Children of Extinction

by Geoff North

  Chapter 19

  The last thing Stewart wanted to do was go to a Christmas concert. He didn’t want to see anyone. Staying in his room on a dark winter night thinking of the neighbors a mile down the road appealed to him even less. He wished more than anything he could run away and take Loren with him. But fifteen-year olds with little money and no cars couldn’t get very far in minus thirty weather. And then there were his parents to consider. What would become of them if he tried to escape? What would happen to Loren’s parents and little brother?

  His mother called from down the hallway. The car was running and they were ready to go. Stewart pulled himself off the bed. He put his winter coat on and met her in the front porch.

  “I thought you were looking forward to tonight. Or are you just shy of us meeting your girlfriend’s mom and dad?” She tugged at the brim of his toque until it covered his eyes. “Don’t worry—we’ll try not to embarrass you too much.”

  Stewart started to feel better once they were in town and saw the cars already parked in the school parking lot. Hundreds of Birdtail residents were packed in the gymnasium to watch the children of Kindergarten through Grade six perform. If Allan Bagara had a Christmas surprise prepared, Stewart could rest assured it wouldn’t come tonight. There were too many people here, too many witnesses to keep silent. Strength in numbers.

  They spotted Loren up in the bleachers waving her arms in the air. Stewart’s parents followed him up through the crowd and squeezed into seats saved for them. Quick introductions were made and the concert started minutes later.

  Loren whispered in Stewart’s ear as the Grade One class sang Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. “I was talking to Brian Bryant a few minutes before you got here. He didn’t phone me, Stewart.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it… Not tonight.”

  “Well we’re going to have to talk about it soon. I’m scared.”

  The evening dragged on. Parents laughed and applauded. Ethan was especially good as an elf. One of his pointed paper machete ears had fallen off and he’d stuck it hastily back on upside down drawing more roars from the crowd. Nearing nine o’clock most people were anticipating the concert’s end. Half were still bundled in their winter jackets and the room had started to smell of heated bodies sweating through perfume and antiperspirant. Two hours had been long enough. Everyone would be grateful to head back out into the cold night.

  All the classes assembled together and started to sing We Wish You a Merry Christmas. This was it, Stewart thought. As soon as they finished, the school’s custodian, old Mr. Bernie, would come through a side door dressed as Santa Claus and hand candy canes and oranges to the kids. Stewart would go home with his parents—driving past the Feerce lane—and head to bed, alone with his thoughts of what had been promised to come. He didn’t want the song to end.

  Santa burst through the equipment room door. It wasn’t Mr. Bernie. This Santa wasn’t wearing the traditional costume and shiny black boots the custodian took so much pride in donning each year. This Santa was a foot taller and a hundred pounds lighter. He was clad in tattered runners and filthy red thermal underwear. His white beard was a frayed plastic shopping bag, the handles hooked loosely around his ears. He hadn’t bothered with a hat, and even half way across the gymnasium, Stewart could see that big blue vein throbbing at the top of his bald, grey head.

  A few adults laughed uncomfortably as Allan Bagara made his way to the group of kids still gathered in front. Stewart heard confused whispering around him.

  Where’s Mr. Bernie?

  Who planned this?

  Halloween’s over... Bad judgment… Poor taste… The children will be scared.

  Loren’s eyes were round and terror-filled. “Is that… Is that him?”

  Stewart nodded. He grabbed his father’s coat sleeve and shook. “Dad, we have to get out of here.”

  Brad Weibe hadn’t heard him. His face was blank. Loren was tugging on Stewart’s other arm, insisting they get her brother off of the stage.

  Stewart was about to plead with his mom, and then Santa spoke into the microphone.

  “Everyone remain where they are. No one say a word or make a sound unless I give permission.” He paused a moment to reattach one of the grocery bag handles that had fallen away from his ear. “First off… Mr. Bernie gives his regrets and promises to return as Santa Claus next year.” He turned and looked down at the line of Kindergarten children sitting cross-legged behind him. “Yeah, kids, it’s true… There’s no Santa—just a bunch of lying grown-ups playing the part. You better get used to that fact now.” He faced the audience again. “A lot of you know who I am. A lot of you cowardly rednecks still talk about us behind our backs. You whisper in the coffee shops and you whisper to your wives and husbands late at night in bed when you think nobody can hear you.”

  Can you hear me now, Stewart wondered?

  Can you hear our thoughts, or is it all just part of your paranoid act?

  Loren was squeezing his hand too tight, her knuckles were bone white. Tears streaked down his mother’s face and his father was breathing too hard. It was the same throughout the silent gymnasium—heavy, wracked breathing, eyes unblinking and terror-filled—their heated bodies now rank with fear. Stewart had no doubt the thing standing before them was powerful. The sound of his voice could make them do anything he wanted. But Stewart wasn’t so sure he was all-knowing. He did see me in the grocery store. He knew I would tell Loren, and followed us.

  Stewart thought back further—to the night his father was beaten and dragged into the field. Why couldn’t they hear my thoughts then? Didn’t they know I was cowering and watching a hundred feet away? Why can’t he hear what I’m thinking now?

  You stupid grey douche bag… Do you have something to say about that?

  Allan continued to speak into the microphone. “Things are about to change. Think of this as like a… coming out party.” The forced silence continued. “You know who we are and where we live. Keep talking about us if you want. Say what you want, but keep out of our business. Stay off our land. You will obey our commands. You will remain in town, and on your farms. You will continue to raise your families and go to your jobs… within the town limits. No one ever leaves.” He stepped back and patted a trembling girl on the head. “See? Santa’s not that scary. You can speak now if you want.”

  The little girl scrambled away. She started to cry and was joined simultaneously by all of the other children clustered around her. Stewart could see Ethan in the middle of it all, staring up at the diseased Kris Kringle with a puzzled look on his face. The upside down ear had fallen away altogether. What does he think of all this, Stewart wondered?

  Allan faced the crowd again. “That goes for all of you. If any one has any questions or concerns, now is the time to raise them.”

  “I have some goddamn questions!” A big man stood up in the crowd. It was Wesley’s Zimmer’s father. He was the complete opposite of his under-grown, asthmatic son, standing at six-foot-six and as thick and heavy as a fully stocked refrigerator. “Who the hell do you think you are barging in here and scaring all these kids? Yeah, I heard all about you moving in with the Feerce girl after her parents up and left. A lot of folks in town felt pretty sorry for the two of you, especially after your dad—well, that was a real shame. But it don’t give you the right to brainwash all the people in Birdtail.”

  The crowd had started to murmur its support. A few more started to shout. Allan raised his grey emaciated fingers towards them and lowered his hands as if pulling down an invisible curtain. “Silence, please—one at a time.” He pointed to a woman standing at the back of the bleachers two rows behind Stewart. “Mrs. Stille… What would you like to say?”

  Emma Stille was a nurse at Birdtail Hospital. Her daughter was the girl on stage that had scrambled away from Allan. She was less outraged than Claude Zimmer, her voice shaky and less booming, but she was as distraught as anyone else in the crowd, maybe more so. “Please, Allan—let the children
go to their parents. This has gone on too long. You need help. Come to the hospital so the doctors can check you out. You look very… sick.”

  “Next.” Allan pointed to an old man sitting down in the front. “Mr. Patrick. You used to be a teacher, right? Wasn’t my father one of your students?”

  Jim Patrick didn’t stand. The ninety-four year old World War II vet had come to the concert under the aid of his granddaughter and a walker. He never needed help coming up with something to say. “Ted Bagara may not have been much of a father… but you sure as hell must have been a disappointment for a son. Can’t say that I blame him for what he did.”

  The crowd went silent again—even more silent than when Allan had commanded them to. Stewart couldn’t imagine things getting worse. He lowered his head into his hands and covered his ears. He didn’t want to hear the instructions that were sure to follow. It was at that moment the simplest idea struck him.

  Allan took a deep breath and shook his head after the old man’s words had finally sunk in. “Wow… That just might be the most terrible thing anyone has ever said to me… Unfortunately it’s all true. Don’t worry, Mr. Patrick, I’m not going to command you to go home and take your own life. You’ve served our country in a way no one else here ever has. I respect that. And I respect you for giving me an honest answer.” He regarded the rest of the crowd with black eyes. “But the rest of you… cowards and liars. You would like to see me to dead. You’re all thinking and scheming of ways to leave this gymnasium… of leaving town. It’s not going to happen.”

  Stewart hunkered down lower into his bleacher seat. The palms of his hands had completely sealed off all sound. He couldn’t hear what was being said, and he prayed the thing up front wouldn’t notice.

  “Here’s how it’s going to be from now on,” Allan continued. “If anyone tries to leave this town—if anyone phones, emails, texts, or in any other way tries to communicate with the outside—you will kill them. If your wife, your husband, your son, daughter, cousin, aunt, uncle, or best friend even make the suggestion of getting a warning out—you will kill them. Do I make myself clear? Do you understand?”

  The silence continued. No one moved.

  “Nod your dumb heads.”

  People around Stewart were nodding their heads. He uncovered his ears and nodded along with them.

  “Excellent.” Allan paused to consider things further. “But I guess that doesn’t guarantee total silence, does it? I’m betting only half the town is here tonight… Maybe not even that many. A lot of people living in Birdtail didn’t make it out tonight… And there’s probably a few dozen more living on farms that didn’t bother showing up either. I want you all to contact everyone not here and get them to phone me over the next few days. I’ll tell them personally how things are going to be one at a time.”

  Stewart plugged his ears again at the words I want you all to and wondered if it could be so easy. Whatever Allan Bagara was commanding everyone in the gymnasium to do wouldn’t apply to him. The faces around Stewart had turned waxen and pale. What they’d heard——what they had been instructed to do—terrified them. He wanted to whisper to Loren, to shake his mom by the leg and warn them. But it was too late. Their unblinking stares were drawn to the front, absorbing everything being said.

  “One by one I’ll talk to everyone. They will listen—you will listen—and obey.” He paused again, waiting for someone in the crowd to object. They didn’t. “After a time, when it’s appropriate… I’ll be in contact again with a new set of instructions… It’s something I haven’t wanted to do but I know the time is coming. Things can’t go on like this forever, can they?”

  There was no sound, no movement. Allan regarded the audience with his black eyes for a full minute, and then finally left the stage. He paused one last moment at a side door and called out. “Get on with your evening, folks… and have a merry Christmas!”

  Stewart uncovered his ears and tapped Loren’s thigh. “What was that all about? What did he say?”

  She gave him a blank stare. “Weren’t you listening?”

  Stewart looked at his mom. Her bottom lip was quivering, her gaze set straight ahead to a point on the far wall. He shook his father’s leg. “Dad? What happened? …Dad?’

  Brad returned a look Stewart hadn’t seen since that night in the middle of the dirt field—a vacant, unblinking stare. “You should know better, son. You of all people… after the last time.” He dug slowly into the pockets of his coat and pulled out his gloves. “Come on, let’s get going. It’ll take a few minutes for the car to warm.” He stood on the bleacher and helped his wife down through the dwindling crowd. Stewart’s mother said good night to Loren’s equally stunned parents and followed her husband out. A few children had begun to whimper. Ethan trailed after his parents. He wasn’t crying but he still had that puzzled look on his face. Stewart wondered again what effect the night had on the eight-year old. People were filing in messy lines to leave but saying little. Stewart pulled Loren to the side. “Do you see now? That… thing can control our thoughts. He can make us do whatever he wants just by saying the words.”

  “You were listening, weren’t you, Stewart? You did hear what he expects of us?” The mindless stare was gone, but the Loren he knew wasn’t looking at him anymore. This was someone different. “Why are you talking like this?”

  Stewart thought his heart had stopped beating. A dry lump had lodged in his throat. “Of course I heard. I listened to every word he said.”

  “Then just shut your mouth and obey.”

  Chapter 20

  Abe and Becky had seen their fair share of snow. Growing up in western Canada meant a solid four months of winter from the months of December through March. Sometimes winter started earlier, as early as October, and stuck around until the middle of May. They were used to extremes. But this wasn’t like home. When it started to snow here it lasted for weeks. When the temperature started to drop, it kept on plunging. They had been moving steadily for a month since their capture in the woods. Day after day it grew colder, hour after hour the snow pushed against their faces, and the wind howled in their numbed ears. There would be no end to this season. This was an Ice Age—a thousand-year long winter to challenge their wills.

  Clothed in primitive furs and thick boots, Abe and Becky dragged a wooden sled carrying the heavier-bundled Boo and Ann further into the frozen waste. Three men led the way ahead, and three followed, dragging a second sled laden with dwindling supplies. The leader of the group, the man that had held a blade at Abe’s throat, was the only one that spoke. He rarely talked, and when asked where home was, he merely shrugged his burly shoulders and answered ‘you’ll see’.

  They were still headed north—a route Abe and Becky had abandoned weeks before—but they didn’t push him on it. As long as Boo and Ann remained warm and fed, the other two would follow.

  On the fortieth evening they found partial shelter at the base of a steep hill. The blowing snow made fire impossible, but the cover offered enough of a break from the wind for the children to rest and feed on scraps of dried meat. They were asleep soon after, bundled in ice-encrusted blankets at Abe and Becky’s feet.

  “They’re strong, but I don’t know how much longer they can be expected to keep travelling like this,” Becky murmured into Abe’s chest.

  “It’s no different than what I expected from them.” Abe glanced up at the grey sky. A particularly large pellet of snow-ice blew into his eye forcing him to blink the moisture free. “I had every intention of bringing them this far… of going a lot further. If it weren’t for these people, Boo and Ann would already be dead.”

  “Quit blaming yourself. We’d already turned back.”

  “Back where? Where would we have gone? This world is nothing but cold and death.”

  “There has to be some place… Some place where the clouds aren’t dark and filled with snow and ash.”

  Night set in, if it could be called that. The dark only lasted an hour or two the farth
er north they went. Becky had fallen asleep. Abe could feel the strong, steady rhythm of her breathing against his chest. He shook her awake when the sky began to grow light. The clouds had finally broken revealing a semi-clear sky of light violet. The wind had dropped to a whispering breeze. Abe pointed to the north. “Look there.”

  The hill they’d settled behind obscured half of the horizon, but Becky had no doubt what he wanted her to see. It was a wall of blue rising up a thousand feet out of the snow. “Is that a mountain range?”

  “I don’t think so. It’s too flat along the top. No peaks or anything. I thought maybe it was another bank of clouds but it hasn’t moved… I don’t know what it is.”

  Abe remained where he was as Becky stood to look for Boo and Ann. She could smell smoke. She spotted them moments later, seated around a small fire with the other men. “Where did they find wood to start a fire?”

  “They tore one of the sleds apart,” Abe answered.

  Becky waved to the kids. “And you didn’t stop them? How are we going to carry supplies now?”

  “The food’s mostly gone. I get the feeling this part of our journey is almost through.” Abe continued to stare towards the distant strip of dark blue to the north. “I think they know that, too, and the sled’s no longer needed. Maybe that’s home up ahead.”

  “Maybe? Did you ask George?”

  They called the leader George. He hadn’t objected, and never offered another name. Abe shook his head. “You think he’d tell me?”

  When the sky turned pink and the eastern horizon was ruddy gold they started moving again. The distant ridge to the north lightened in color with the coming of day. It became mauve, and after two or three more hours of heavy walking, turned gun-metal grey. Becky and Abe pulled the remaining sled through deep snow with Boo and Ann bundled on top. Through everything their strength never waned, they never tired. Their companions strained to keep up. George would grin at Abe every so often and shake his head in wonder. Abe had the sense it wasn’t disbelief but more a begrudging respect for their endless endurance. As if he’d seen it all before.