Children of Extinction

by Geoff North

  “I love you, brother… I won’t forget you.”

  The picture of them on the dock caught last. It didn’t burn as quickly. Sheila changed her mind and reached in for it. She blew the small flame out that had already consumed the bottom quarter away and tucked the photo under her mattress. When all that remained in the basket was black ash, Sheila left her room and went to see her mother. She was sitting on the end of Abe’s bed, holding one of his shirts in her lap.

  “Please, Sheila… Let me call someone. We have to find him… He could be in trouble. He could be hurt somewhere.”

  “There’s no one to find, Mom. You have no son… I’m an only child.” The words came out of her mouth but Sheila felt dead inside.

  Andrea Feerce placed the shirt on the bed and stood. She had that confused, lazy look on her face that Sheila and Allan had seen on so many faces around town when they were told to do something. “Can I… can I leave now?”

  “Yes.”

  Her mother paused in the doorway. “I’m going to start supper now. Have you seen your father?”

  “He’s in his shop… I’ll go tell him.” She listened to her mom pad down the stairs towards the kitchen. Sheila looked around her brother’s room and decided to pack everything away later. She would need Allan’s help moving it all to the dump to be burned.

  Talking with her father was more important at the moment. She had to tell him supper would be ready soon—that, and a few other things.

  ***

  “I’ll be back later.”

  “When later?” Ted Bagara asked as politely as he could.

  “One more rule, Dad.” Allan opened the front door and spoke without turning to face his father seated on the couch. “Don’t ask any more questions.”

  He started down the street, towards Abe and—towards Sheila’s place a mile out of town. He stopped. The thing had instructed them to take her brother’s belongings to the dump. They would need a truck for that. Allan looked back at his father’s half-ton sitting in the drive. He would never let him borrow that. No problem, he thought. That’s all changed now. He went back into the house.

  “Keys to the Dodge… give them to me.”

  Ted dug into his pocket and tossed him the keys. His mouth opened, and then shut again, his brows furrowed together in puzzlement. He was about to ask his son a question but couldn’t. He wasn’t allowed to. “Drive carefully, son.”

  Allan met Sheila at the end of her lane as they’d arranged. It was funny how they still tended to sneak around even though they could do any damn thing they pleased. “You tell your parents?”

  She climbed into the truck and nodded. “Yeah… It’s all done.”

  “You ready to get rid of Abe’s stuff?”

  “Not tonight… maybe tomorrow.”

  Allan pulled a little further to the side of the road and turned the truck off. “We talked about this. The thing’s not giving us any choice. We have to let them go for good.”

  “Guess I’m not as strong as I thought. It’s been easier for you being an only child.”

  “It hasn’t been easy.”

  She felt bad for saying it. Allan had told her the toilet story. At first Sheila thought it had been an abnormally cruel act, but considering how his father had treated him for the last seven or eight years, it was hardly surprising. She probably would’ve let the bastard drown. She wanted to change the subject. “I erased my brother from history. I burned every picture we had of him and made my parents forget he was ever born. Have you ever told anyone you wished they had never been born? We can do that now… We have to stop it. We have to go into the woods and—”

  “Quit thinking like that. You know every time we do the pain gets worse.” His teeth were already beginning to ache. “It can read our minds from miles away.”

  The palms of Sheila’s hands were pressed against her temples, attempting to rub the building ache away. “Maybe if we separated… if one of us went out there to confront it and the other snuck up from behind…”

  “You want to kill it?”

  “Don’t you?”

  They started out an hour later when it was full dark. In Allan’s hand was a tire iron he’d taken from the back of his father’s truck. They were still a quarter mile from the shelterbelt of poplar trees, trudging stealthily through the waist high fields of wheat, when Sheila reached for his shoulder and whispered. “We should split up now. I’ll keep heading straight south, you go west and come up from behind it through the forest.”

  The warmth of her fingers tingled through his body. Allan wanted to force her down into the wheat. He needed to strip out of his clothes and feel her against him. Sheila could see it on his face and pulled her hand away. “I’m sorry,” he sputtered. “It’s so hard to control.”

  She nodded and pointed to the black line of trees to the southwest. “Shut your mind off… or better yet, make it believe you’re somewhere else. Can you do that, Allan? Can you picture yourself back at home?”

  He closed his eyes and thought of his bedroom. He was under the sheets, a cool breeze wafting through the open window. Allan relaxed even more when he imagined his mother downstairs. He was a little boy again, his parents were still together and life was good. He opened his eyes and focused on Sheila’s dark form. A swollen harvest moon was rising up behind her. It was immense and orange, painting the sea of wheat they stood in blood red. “You have to concentrate just as hard as me. You have to make it believe you’re out here all alone.”

  She leaned in and kissed him, careful not to let any other parts of their bodies touch. Allan almost dropped the wrench and pulled away first. There would be time for that later. Hopefully.

  Sheila watched as he receded into the wheat stalks, his grey outline swallowed up into the black of forest beyond. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. A cool breeze carrying the smell of fallen hay washed over her. She collected her thoughts and relaxed a little more.

  I’m alone. I couldn’t sleep and I’ve come out for a walk to clear my mind. I’m alone.

  She tucked her hands into her jean pockets and started to walk. The wheat crunched down beneath her shoes. I’m alone. The breeze picked up and whispered through the stalks around her, an owl hooted in reply. Sheila walked a straight line through the field, paralleling the forest to her right. The trees came to an end; she was at the forest’s southeast corner. I’m alone. She turned west, the moon at her back casting even deeper shadows ahead. The idea of creeping around the farm after dark had always terrified her. A coyote started to howl and was joined by half a dozen more. She yearned to be back at the house—to be tucked in bed listening to these haunting sounds in complete safety—but to get there meant cutting directly through the forest. And directly in her path was the thing. The thing they were about to ki—I’m alone. I’m alone… I’m alone.

  She wanted to sink down into the wheat and curl up into a ball. She wanted to wait for the sun to rise and forget their insane plan. She wished Abe was here to reassure her everything would be alright.

  That wouldn’t happen.

  I’m alone… I’m all alone.

  She headed for the forest with more purpose. The black outline of popular trees loomed over her and she could no longer be sure which section of forest the thing was in. More to the left. She could feel that hum in the roots of her teeth. It intensified with each step. Further west... Closer... almost there.

  A dull purple light was swimming in the branches, twisting and writhing. At first Sheila thought they were glowing snakes, wrapping their diseased bodies around and throughout the tree trunks. Then she made out the small square craft still lodged awkwardly into the ground by one corner. The swirling mauve bands moved along its surface like living things, sliding and slipping.

  Something else caught her eye—something grey. No—something white. The soccer ball. It’s still holding the damn ball against its chest. The creature’s head and body was still vibrating, making it hard to focus on in the moon’s pale orange light.


  Sheila came to a stop in the last of the standing wheat. It was less than thirty feet away. She knew it was watching her through the last bit of deadfall and smaller trees growing at the field’s edge.

  I’m alone. I couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk. I’m alone.

  Do you always wander outside in the dark when you can’t sleep?

  Sheila almost fell back. Even with the distance between them it sounded like it was speaking right next to her. She cleared her throat and took a few tentative steps forward. “I like it outside. The fresh air clears my mind.” It was a terrible lie but Sheila kept repeating the ‘I’m alone’ mantra inside of her head. It would have to be enough.

  The alien spoke its thoughts in a quieter tone. You keep saying you are alone. We can see this. Are you repeating it because you miss your brother and best friend? Is there anything else we can offer to lessen your sense of loss?

  “Bring them back.”

  No. That isn’t possible, and even it were, the answer would still be no. By sending them back to do the work for us, we risk even less exposure and potential damage. They will stay where they are.

  Sheila thought she saw a shadow of movement over its shoulder. Perhaps a branch moving. Perhaps not. I’m alone. She spoke louder in an attempt to keep its attention drawn to her. “I’ll do anything you ask. I’ll go back into the past myself as a replacement. Please… Please return my brother and best friend.”

  The shadow grew larger. It was moving towards them. Fast.

  “Bring them back,” she shouted. “Do it now! Do it right now!”

  Allan swung the iron with both hands. It caught in a branch over his head and missed its intended target by inches. Metal slammed into the unnamable material of alien craft and slid off its oily surface. The purple swirls spiked red and settled back to mauve as Allan raised the wrench for a better hit.

  Put that down.

  Allan dropped the tire iron.

  Go stand with the girl.

  He went to Sheila and took her hand. She saw the look on his face and hugged him, whispering in his ear. “You did your best… We’ll get another chance.”

  You will not.

  It was Allan’s turn to yell. “Bring them back, you little grey shit! Bring them back and get out of our minds!”

  There was a long silence. The alien’s vibrating head moved slowly to one side, studying the teenagers like insects. Don’t the two of you want to touch each other some more?

  “What?” They said it in unison.

  When you remove your clothing and lie down… don’t you want to be that way right now? We would like to see what that is like… we want to watch.

  The urge hit hard. Nothing else mattered. Allan went to pull Sheila’s shirt off but she pushed back, grabbing at his hand again. She dragged him out of the woods and they ran back through the field, following the trail of crushed wheat she had flattened minutes earlier.

  “We have to fight it,” Sheila panted. “We can’t give into that sick little thing.”

  The oblong moon loomed down on them and the coyotes wailed. Allan repeated her words. “Fight it… We have to fight it.”

  The thing in the trees had fallen silent in their heads.

  It wouldn’t last.

  Chapter 7

  It had been twenty-one days since Becky and Abe had run out from the woods of twenty-first century Canada and into ancient Africa—three weeks trekking through forests and across deserts, alongside rivers and dried up streams, slowly making their way into the mountains. Becky had taken to carrying a flat rock under her arm and etching the days off with sharper pieces of stone. There were no pencils or pens, no paper to write on. They took turns lugging the stone for five days and finally tossed it off of a cliff. It was hard enough journeying on foot without anyone else to talk to. The rock calendar became a painful reminder their ordeal wasn’t going to come to an end any time soon. It was a weight they were better off without.

  Abe helped her up onto a particularly steep ledge and the two stared back the way they’d traveled. They had ascended two thirds of Kilimanjaro, less than fifty feet above their heads the snow began. This was as far as they would climb. It was as far as they needed to go.

  “Satisfied?” Becky asked.

  “I just wanted to be sure… Just needed to see that nothing was out there.” It was a sloping blanket of green below, red desert and grassy plains beyond. There were no roads, no farms, no towns or cities. The planet was as it was before man happened along and changed everything. It was constantly on their minds—maybe even more than everything else they’d been through—this new-old world no one had ever seen.

  “We knew that weeks ago. She crossed her arms and shivered. “What now? We’ve spent all day climbing the mountain. I’m cold and hungry.”

  She probably wasn’t all that cold, and he doubted she was hungry. Becky had lost weight. If it wasn’t for all the muscle, Abe would say she had lost too much. He looked at her long brown legs and studied the buildup of freckles on his arms. He hadn’t tanned to the extent she had, but his skin hadn’t burned either. Their bodies were powerful and extremely hardy in this new environment. Abe hadn’t eaten in three days, Becky a day before that. Their last drink of water had been by a stream earlier in the morning. He knew they could go longer. They could climb higher and withstand freezing temperatures. Climbing Kilimanjaro was more of a test than it was an exercise figuring out where they were and who they had for neighbors. Abe wanted to see how far they could go without turning back, how difficult it would be to climb the steepest parts of rock without aid. The test was over and now it was time to… time to what? Where would they go?

  It was late in the afternoon. There was just enough room on the ledge to allow them to spend the night. Sleep was another thing they didn’t need much of these days. Their bodies could tolerate the drop in temperature after the sun set, but it didn’t guarantee a comfortable night.

  A rumble sounded in the distance. They listened and waited for it to subside. It didn’t. The rumble continued, reminding Abe of hail falling in the distance.

  “I think it’s going to rain soon,” Becky said. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. “Let’s head back down before we get caught in it.”

  Abe wanted to stay, he wanted to watch the day end and wait for the stars to come out. He opted to follow her instead. Had he known it would be one of the last sunsets for years to come, he may have tried changing her mind. The way down was faster. Their coordination had improved greatly, allowing quicker reaction times to whatever feats they wanted their bodies to perform. Three hours later they were back at the small stream they had drank from in the morning.

  Becky explored the forest for fruits and berries while Abe built a fire against a steep wall of rock. They sat across from each other and stared into the flames, eating food they didn’t need. The rumble continued. At times they felt the ground shake. If they were experiencing an earthquake, it was taking a hell of a long time.

  “What should we do tomorrow?” Becky asked after eating a last handful of red berries.

  Abe shrugged. “We could stay here, I guess. There’s plenty of food in the jungle… the water’s clean and filled with fish.”

  “I hate fish.”

  “Well you might have to start eating it soon. I’m getting sick of fruit.”

  They weren’t arguing but those first few nights of fearful excitement had given way to moments of petty disagreement. It reminded Becky of her grandparents. “Are you going to carve a fishing pole, or scoop them out of the water with your bare hands?”

  He caught her rolling her eyes—one of those simple expressions he’d fallen in love with years before in another time and in another world. Abe leaned towards Becky and kissed the end of her nose. The weeks of worry, the days of fear, the endless hours of guilt-ridden need gave way and they embraced. The teens struggled out of their thread-bare clothes without actually parting and made love for the first time beside the fire.

 
; When their passion was finally spent they dressed and Abe added more wood to the fire. He had this wide-eyed, dopey look on his face and a slight smile that refused to go away.

  Becky slapped his arm then pulled him closer to her. “Don’t act so pleased with yourself.”

  “You didn’t enjoy that?”

  “Of course I enjoyed it… I just wonder if it ever would’ve happened back home… before this place.”

  Abe sighed. “It’s about time you dropped all this feeling sorry for yourself crap. I’ve been in love with you for years.”

  It was out.

  Becky was about to question it—to challenge him again—but decided maybe it was time to let him continue talking for a change.

  “Yeah, a lot of kids made fun of you… I was one of them. And I should say sorry for that but I’m not going to. If I should apologize to anyone, it should be to myself. All that wasted time acting like an idiot, not getting to know you better. I should’ve told you how I felt a long time ago.”

  “I know how you feel now—how we both feel. That’s all that matters.”

  “Still… kids can be so stupid… so cruel. I am sorry for that, Becky.”

  “I thought you weren’t going to apologize.”

  He laid her down into his lap and brushed the hair from her eyes. “I don’t know how long we’re going to be here. Maybe we’ll wake up tomorrow and all of this will be over. Maybe we’ll finally be home. I don’t want to waste another second not letting you know how I feel.”

  Becky reached up and ran a finger down his forehead and along the bridge of his nose. She cupped the side of Abe’s face and whispered. “I love you.”

  “And I love you… Better late than never, right?”

  They sat that way for a few more minutes, touching each other and listening to the sounds of the night. Finally Becky asked. “If we can’t get home, we’ll have to be really careful… if something happened… if I got pregnant…”