The Second Intelligent Species: The Cyclical Earth

by Dale Langlois

  I shook Pete’s hand and noticed he had a powerful grip. He was a big man.

  I reached to shake the hand of the other man. Even though the light was away from his face I could see a smile develop into a full-blown toothy grin.

  I no longer distrusted these two. The handshake made me feel this man was trustworthy. The smile was sincere; I could trust the other one too.

  Chapter 29

  Getting to Know

  One Another

  The makeshift sleigh we had used to haul the children now carried wood. More effort was needed to drag it, since the wood weighed more than a couple of toddlers. Both men cooperated and gathered wood without speaking. It seemed good to fill up the sled in half the time.

  I had no choice but to head back to camp. They had done their part, now I would have to make good on my word. My first impressions told me that I could trust them, but I had to be sure. “How do I know that when we get back to the others that you won’t kill us all and bring us back to your group?” I hated to be so blunt, but it was only about a quarter mile to the shed, and I didn’t have much time to get to know them socially. I knew once we broke over the hill they would see the glow of the fire.

  “If we were going to kill you, we would have done it by now. We only use the gun for self defense, so you tell anyone in your party that’s interested in starting any shit, that we’ve killed already and aren’t afraid to do it again,” Pete said. He had his lamp off, and my torch was all wet and wouldn’t light, so I couldn’t see his face. Apparently they were used to walking in the dark as well.

  Sensing that he didn’t quite trust me either, I said, “I can assure you, you have no reason to worry. We have found a way to find food without eating each other, or anybody else. We even have some extra in case you’re hungry, but not a lot.”

  The winds were beginning to pick up again, giving away the location of the others. Jorge yelled out, “You got fresh meat?” as the aroma of supper drifted our way.

  We neared the driveway that led to the steel tool shed. “What have you guys been eating?” I asked.

  Pete answered for the duo again. “Mostly animal grain from farm silos. Cans of food when we can find them… pretty picked over near the cities. Plus it’s too dangerous there. We ate mushrooms until it got cold. There ain’t no mushrooms no more.”

  It struck me funny that I never thought to cut into one of those silos. I’d seen them. I just forgot that they have grain. Apparently the grain in them wasn’t as subject to the dampness that molded the corn in other silos. The corn in the steel silos must have been dried before it was stored, while the other corn still had moisture in it.

  As we walked down the drive of the farm, no longer recognizable, the talking ceased. We walked past the empty cellar of the once proud home, handed down generation to generation. Past the rusting pickups, tractors, and a combine that was now sitting on equally rusted rims. There was no silo, this was not a farm that raised animals. I wasn’t sure what crop they had raised, and there wasn’t much machinery that I recognized.

  I could hear the now familiar bickering between Beth and Sarah growing louder as we neared the shed—not because we were getting closer, but because their argument was intensifying. Both of them kept their distance when I was around but when I was gone for awhile, then no holds barred.

  “Ladies, could you please use your inside voice? We have company,” I said as the four of us walked into the light of the fire.

  My request was fulfilled with immediate silence.

  “Gentlemen, this is our group. These three ladies are all nurses. Beth here is my wife. This is Maria, and this is Sarah.”

  Both women said, “Hello.”

  Both men said, “Hi.”

  “You’ve met Marcos. Over there under those furs are Tara, and Eve. They’re just young children, orphans. And that’s it. We had two children taken by cannibals upstate.” After that I was temporarily speechless. I regained my composure. “Oh, everyone this is Pete and this is….” I had forgotten his name, I knew it was something Hispanic, but couldn’t remember.

  “Jorge, Jorge Hernandez,” he said, nodding as he looked directly at Maria and smiled.

  She returned the smile, but with a far less tooth-to-mouth ratio.

  Sarah blurted, “How do you spell that?

  “J-O-R-G-E” he said, carefully enunciating each letter.

  “Oh, George?” she said.

  “See I told ya,” said Pete, as he punched the little guy in the arm.

  Feeling I was left out of the joke, I said, “There’s some beaver jerky if you’re hungry.” As a host, I had never offered my guests this before and felt kind of funny hearing it out loud. “Eat what you want, there’re more swimming around in the swamp.”

  “Maria made some fresh rat stew… just like Mom used to make,” Beth said, barely holding back the laughter.

  Then the other two women broke out into uncontrollable laughter.

  “Here, have some cattail bread to go with it. Yumm,” Maria said sarcastically, rubbing her tummy in a clockwise motion.

  Not being a great fan of cattail bread I too started laughing.

  Now Tara and Eve were up and wanted to become part of the fun. They each began laughing without even knowing what we were laughing about.

  I looked over at Pete and Jorge; the contagious laughter infected everyone.

  Jorge’s large smile was ever widening as he reached into his backpack. “I have some cow grain,” he said.

  I don’t believe there is a term for the type of humor that was making us laugh, neither irony, nor sarcasm. More some sick type of humor that only can be appreciated if one suffers from posttraumatic stress disorder. In retrospect, it wasn’t that funny.

  Both men sat down at our fire and ate what we could offer them without complaint or criticism.

  Pete took a break from eating and wiped his mouth on what remained of a sleeve. “Thank you for the meal. We haven’t had fresh meat besides mice since we killed a coyote about six months or so ago. We’ve been eating this animal grain. We’ve still got some more left; it’s all yours in appreciation of your hospitality.”

  “It’s our pleasure. You boys said you were from Kentucky?”

  “We’re both coal miners,” Pete said.

  Beth spun around, “I thought there weren’t any coal mines in operation anymore. I thought coal wasn’t used now days.

  Pete shook his head. “No, our mine and one other were still in operation, they’re harvesting what they can for the World’s Contingency Plan. We were at work when it started and we still don’t know what to hell is going on. All we know is everyone with a lick of brains is dead. You’re the first people we’ve come across since we decided to go around the cities and stay out in the country. Those left in the cities aren’t going to make it. Once they’re done feeding on each other, then they’ll be dead too, they’ll be out of food. Then maybe we can go back in and use what we can.”

  “You haven’t seen military or Red Cross or anything?” Beth asked.

  “Nothing. The only other people we’ve come across attacked us, and I had to kill two of them to keep them from taking George too. They dragged off another guy who survived the mine collapse with us. He was hurt and couldn’t fight back. George and I ran for our lives when I almost ran out of shells.”

  “So you only have one bullet for the gun now?” Sarah said with her usual bitter tone.

  “We used that one to kill the coyote. Why else do you think I let George carry it? The gun’s just a deterrent.” Both he and Jorge laughed. He turned his attention to me. “You seem to be doing quite well. I never thought about catching beavers. I didn’t think many other animals made it. I thought the coyote was a freak thing. We didn’t dare eat rats, with all the disease and such.” He stirred the remainder of the rat stew.

  Maria surprised everyone by speaking. “We only eat the rats out in the country, near old farms, never near a city. There must be epidemics in the cities. It didn’
t seem to be a safe place for the children.” She shocked all of us that had been with her through it all. Since I’d known her, I’d never heard her interject. She only spoke when spoken to.

  “Were you a nurse too?” asked Jorge.

  “Yes, and I still am,” she said smiling.

  “A very beautiful one too, if you don’t mind me saying.” Jorge was smiling wide, head down, but looking up in anticipation of her response.

  “Not at all. Thank you, Jorge.” Maria shyly looked away.

  “This stew is the best I ever had too,” Jorge said, this time with his head held high.

  “Thank you again, Jorge.” Maria smiled as wide as he did.

  Beth cleared her throat and asked, “Have you heard any planes or helicopters?”

  I sensed that she was getting annoyed with their flirting. I guess it had been some time since I’d flirted with Beth, but in these conditions flirting hadn’t been on my mind much.

  “No, nothing like that,” Pete said. “Do you know what happened? It was terrorists, wasn‘t it?”

  “We’re not sure of anything, but my best guess is that a meteor or comet hit somewhere, and this is what is left.” Beth was the only one in our group who might have a clue.

  “They can do that?” Pete asked.

  “Scientist’s know that was one of the contributing factors that led to the extinction of the dinosaurs. I can see how this would have done it. This would have been enough.” She shook her head as she looked off into the darkness.

  “Would it be like this all over the world?” Pete asked.

  She blew on her hands to warm them. “I don’t know. We haven’t met anyone with any answers either. It’s possible, I guess. I don’t know… I hope not.”

  Chapter 30

  Building a Clan

  The extra help proved to be invaluable. Wood could be gathered while traps were being set. Now that Pete and Jorge were with us, the chores per person were reduced. We were eating better, and we always had dry wood for the fire.

  Before they showed up, sleep was a luxury. When Marcos and I weren’t collecting wood, we were setting or checking traps, building shelters, or this or that. There was always a chore to do. When the two of us stumbled on a swamp where the beaver were plentiful, there wasn’t time to set and check traps, plus clean the animals and flesh out the firs, so the women took on that grizzly task. Actually, once I showed them how to do it, they became proficient. I found they would save more meat and do a better job fleshing the pelts. This too became part of their daily routine. They also gathered wood around camp, cooked meals and cared for the children.

  Once all the work was done, we had time to sit around the fire and talk. It was a big deal that we had new people with new stories and ideas. They were just as intrigued as we were with new tales. The conversations were split between before and after. This was healing we hadn’t had time for before.

  Several different topics were discussed around the fire. Often we threw around ideas related to surviving: where to put out traps, new ways to preserve meat, or build torches. This was a good time to plan the workload for the next day.

  Sometimes we’d speculate about what civilization would be like in five years. Of course this all depended on how many survived.

  When everyone’s belly was full, and nobody was thirsty, and everyone was warm, those were the times we began to cherish.

  We enjoyed the babies more. Eve was talking, and Tara was a bundle of trouble. Her curiosities were insatiable.

  Marcos was more of a man than a child. I don’t think we could have made it this far without him. Now he could go back to being a kid.

  Once, when we were all sitting around the fire, watching the children, a break came in the sky. We could see sunbeams coming through the clouds at first. Then we caught a glimpse of the sun. Not all of it, just a fraction. That was all it took to make every one of us raise our hands in unison to cover our eyes. The brightness hurt, but we each took a quick peek to reassure ourselves. The moment was the spark that lit the fire of hope.

  Fleeting joy was replaced with horror now that we saw the landscape clearly. It looked like ancient black and white photographs of Hiroshima, Nagasaki, or Geneva. Trees with only the largest limbs remained, surrounded by debris. Anything metal was rusted, though no twisted metal could be seen like at the places nuclear bombs were detonated.

  Again I saw a water tower in the distance, but this time it wasn’t worth the walk. We had learned to sustain our needs without the infrastructure of the past. We’d learned to purify water without relying on artificial aqueducts. We’d learned to find food without going to the nearest 7-11. Our animal instincts, along with the combined knowledge attained through past experiences, brought us to this stage of survival.

  We had survived, and would probably continue to survive. We came to the conclusion that we were the beginning of the next age of man. We would have to rebuild the world. Any history recorded from this point backwards would be our responsibility and of our choosing. For the first time in history, the opportunity to change the world for the better, eliminating the mistakes of the past, had been given to one generation. We came to the conclusion that it was better to learn how to live in this world than to keep trying to find the old one.

  Chapter 31

  The Next

  Generation.

  Time was immeasurable. No sun to differentiate morning from night, no moon to keep track of the months. Although one cycle was ever present.

  The birth of Maria’s baby came. The child was white, proving that the animal who had raped her at the hospital was Caucasian, at least the one raping her at the moment of conception.

  Maria and Jorge had become a couple as had Sarah and Pete. Sarah failed with Adam and Megan, but Eve eventually became hers. Tara and Beth were inseparable. She wouldn’t leave her side.

  Marcos seemed to be content belonging to no one, however he was my constant shadow. I was more of a mentor than a father.

  A few days after Maria’s baby was born, she and Jorge came up to me, he put his hand on my shoulder. “Nick… Maria and I would be honored if you would join us at the baptism we’re having in three days. We would like you and Beth to be the baby’s godparents.”

  I hadn’t had many religious friends. Beth frightened them all away. I wasn’t sure what being a godparent entailed. “Well, I’ll talk to Beth, but I’ve got to warn you, she’s not all that big on religious traditions. I’ll talk to her.”

  I could never get her to go to any symbolic ritual pertaining to any religion. She was a devout atheist. Her science was her religion. Everything could be explained by mathematics and physics. She believed that man created God. Until it was proven to her, she wasn’t into “blind faith.” I’ve never seen her pray, not even when we were looking for her son and grandchildren.

  “What’s the baby’s name?” I asked.

  Holding the baby to her breast, Maria answered. “We’re not going to name him until his baptism. I want you to hold him when he is cleansed of his original sin. Jorge and I have seen enough baptisms we can do the service by heart. Even though a priest isn’t going to be there, I know God will be beside us.”

  The firelight gave us a clear view of this new addition to our group as he suckled. Shame no longer existed. We were family. I was witnessing the beginning of the next generation: the first generation of the new world. As I watched I thought, why should mothers have hidden their breast when they fed their children? At what point did we as a civilization decide that breastfeeding was something that needs to be hidden? Adults eat in public, why can’t our children? That was one thing we could change today.

  I snapped out of deep thought again to answer Maria. “Yes I’m sure we would both be proud to be your child’s godparents.”

  “Do you have any suggestions for names, Nick?” Maria asked.

  “No.” Naming babies wasn’t one of my things. “I’ll think about it, and I’ll ask his godmother-to-be.”

  “Thank
you, Nick.” Jorge shook my hand, brandishing his signature smile.

  “As long as you don’t name him George, anything’s okay,” I said, smirking.

  They both laughed then went back to adoring their new child.

  I went over to Beth who was reading the remains of a magazine to Tara on the other side of the fire.

  I tried to come up with a way to ask Beth about going to a baptism without wakening demons. If I could convince her that this was the happiest I’d seen anyone since the event took place, perhaps she’d consider their request. Jorge and Maria had everything to live for. They had a son to care for, and they had their God. How could that be so bad?

  I intentionally interrupted Beth while she was reading. “They remind me of the Amish we had around our town; some of the happiest people I’ve ever met.”

  “Who’s that?” Beth asked.

  “Jorge and Maria. They remind me of the Amish. I wonder if they made it.”

  “They’re right over there, what’s wrong with you?” Her attention was split between Tara and me. Tara was getting more than her share, as usual.

  “No, the Amish. I wonder if they made it. If they did, I’m sure they’ll continue to survive. They were taught the old ways. They also taught their children discipline, religion, and how to work. What did we teach our children? Readin’, writin’ and ’rithmetic. Who taught their kids about finding water or catching rats? Nobody, that’s who. Who taught our children? Society educated our children with contractors. Facts were memorized. Test results proved that the system worked. Survival skills and morals were not on the curriculum. Did we teach problem solving, survival skills, or even ethics?” I paused to take a breath or two. I hadn’t planned to get as worked up as I had.

  “What does religion have to do with the ability to survive?”

  Now I had all of Beth’s attention. “Well I’ve been talking to George and Maria. They’re very religious you know.”

  “Yea…and…?” I could tell the old Beth was still around.