“You should not have crossed me,” Gainsborough said, pulling back the sword, ready to strike a lethal blow.
The musty smell of wild dogs wafted on the breeze.
A low, resonant growl filled the air, causing Gainsborough to freeze momentarily.
“Step away from the boy.”
James turned and saw his father walking toward him out of the misty, smoky haze.
Bruce was flanked by two massive dogs, towering above him, their dark outline silhouetted by the distant flames. The sound of their claws striking the concrete struck fear into the hearts of the soldiers around Gainsborough.
James could see grown men cowering, slinking backwards, wanting to melt into the streets and disappear.
Gainsborough froze at the sight of these monsters coming out of the dark of night.
Bruce walked forward calmly.
The dogs kept pace beside Bruce, snarling at the soldiers. Saliva dripped from their twitching jaws. Their ears were pinned back. With their teeth bared, they growled, itching to attack, struggling to contain themselves.
McIntyre loosened his grip on Lisa and she broke free, running over to James and dragging him to one side, away from her father.
The dogs tensed, ready to spring, awaiting the command from Bruce.
Gainsborough turned toward Bruce, his sword out in front of him, the steel blade trembling in his hand.
Seeing so many soldiers around them, the dogs spread apart, still waiting for Bruce to unleash them.
The soldiers continued to back away slowly. No one had seen a wild dog this close before, not outside of a defensive structure with spears and pikes protecting them. No one wanted to provoke the two massive beasts as they would tear them into pieces. It seems they realized how tenuous Bruce’s control was over the monstrous animals and didn’t want to risk upsetting that balance. The slightest move could incite the dogs to attack.
Gainsborough dropped his sword, sinking to his knees.
Bruce stepped forward, pulling his sword out of its scabbard. He held the blade to the general’s throat, raising the old man’s chin with the cold steel so he could look him in the eye. James understood what he was doing. Bruce was mimicking the exact manner in which Gainsborough had intended to kill him.
“No,” Lisa cried. “Please, don’t.”
“Dad, no,” James said.
“It has to end,” Bruce replied, his sword outstretched. “It has to finish here, tonight. There can be no more war among us. Life is too precious. Don’t you see? Men like this are the real monsters.”
“It has ended,” James said, pleading with him. “We’ve won.”
Bruce never took his eyes of Gainsborough. For his part, the old man didn’t flinch. He never begged for mercy or sought leniency. In that moment, James knew Gainsborough would accept his fate, whatever that may be.
“Don’t do it,” James added. “You’re better than this. You’re better than him.”
“You don’t understand, son. We thought all this ended on Bracken Ridge, but it didn’t. There’s only one way this can end. He cannot be allowed to live.”
“Dad.” James spoke softly. He had staggered over beside his father and had his hand resting on his shoulder. “I understand what you’re feeling. I understand the loss of your brother all those years ago. But times must change or we have no chance at a new future. Don’t you see? Look in his eyes. He is a defeated man. No one will follow him. Not anymore.”
One of the soldiers standing beside McIntyre raised a crossbow, pointing it at Bruce. Simon raised his crossbow as he walked over to the soldier, touching the sharp tip directly against the man’s forehead, daring him to fire.
“You want to think carefully about what you do next,” he said coldly.
McIntyre intervened, putting his hand out and gently pushing the soldier’s crossbow down toward the ground. He said, “He's right. Let the madness end. There has been too much bloodshed.”
McIntyre was looking at James as he spoke, not at either Bruce or Gainsborough. Somehow, James understood. For all the tension there had been between him and McIntyre, James knew this wasn’t more posturing on his part, this wasn’t some ploy simply to displace the general. Somewhere, deep within, that sense of honor James had first sensed while on horseback to Richmond still shone through. McIntyre was the right man caught on the wrong side of history.
Bruce spoke to Gainsborough.
“Do I have your unconditional surrender this night?”
“Yes.”
Bruce then spoke to McIntyre, recognizing his authority from his uniform.
“You will withdraw your men. You will depart from the south, never to return. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” McIntyre replied. Gainsborough mumbled consent as well.
Bruce put his sword back in its scabbard. With brute force, he ripped the stars from the General’s shoulder boards, causing the old man to rock back and forth with the violence of that act.
“You are witnesses,” Bruce cried, casting the bronze stars on the ground before the soldiers gathered around. “You will bear this testimony, that this man shall never again hold the rank of an officer.”
No one spoke.
Apart from the distant cries, the night had grown uneasily quiet.
The dogs held their ground, staring down the soldiers, still growling softly.
“Now, be gone,” ordered Bruce. “Depart and never return.”
Gainsborough lowered his head. McIntyre walked over and helped the old man to his feet. His shoulders were slouched. He no longer moved with the arrogance he’d once held.
Slowly, the remaining soldiers disappeared into the swirling mists, their forms fading from sight until only Bruce, James, Lisa and Simon remained.
The dogs sniffed at the air.
Bruce raised his fingers to his lips and let loose a loud wolf whistle, calling off the other dogs.
Out of the mist, the dogs appeared, seven of them, bloodied and torn.
Two older men approached, walking in through the haze. James didn’t recognize them. They introduced themselves as Shakespeare and Sherlock.
Bruce tended to the dogs, giving them a friendly pat, looking at their wounds as he thanked them for their service, talking to them as though they understood him.
Simon was in awe of the huge dogs, keeping a wary distance, but impressed by how the readers worked with them. Shakespeare called Simon over, letting the dogs smell him and encouraging him to pat them. James smiled, understanding Shakespeare was passing the torch to yet another generation.
“What now?” Lisa asked, rolling her arm in its shoulder socket, trying to work out the pain. Blood dripped from around the cuffs still hanging from her wrist.
James was aware his father could hear him. Bruce made out like he was more interested in the dogs, but he was within earshot, and James could see his father wanted to say something but was deferring to him.
James walked over to Bruce as his father gave one of the massive beasts a good, hard rub under the neck.
“Dad?”
“It’s your life. It’s your call, son.”
James could see they were all waiting for him to speak his mind, especially Lisa.
“We can’t stay here. We need to go back to Richmond. In the morning, we’ll meet up with Anders and the others, and return to the north.”
“But why?” Bruce asked. “What is there for you in Richmond?”
“There’s unfinished business, Dad.” James was looking at Lisa. “There can be no more north and south, no more war between the tribes. We will never rise above the monsters if we continue fighting with ourselves. There are no differences between us, none but those we imagine. The old general was right about one thing: It’s time to write a new future.”
“What will you do that is any different?” Simon asked.
James held Lisa’s hand as he spoke. She squeezed his fingers, signaling her support, and that made him feel confident. In the midst of the exhaustion and
pain, he felt strangely at peace.
“We will do the one thing that has made a difference throughout all time, we will teach. We’ll teach people to read and write. We’ll teach people to value knowledge, teach them to rediscover the science of old.”
“How?” Lisa asked with tears in her eyes.
“We will open a school. And we will do it together, for those from the north and the south, from the east and the west. Understanding shall be our banner. Wisdom shall fly as our standard. And when knowledge prevails, the reign of monsters will be at an end.”
The End
Interview with the author
Where did the idea for Monsters come from?
2012 was the National Year of Reading in Australia, and that got me thinking about how easy it is to take reading for granted.
Literacy is a relatively modern phenomenon. For most of history, reading has been a privileged act, something reserved for priests and monks.
Access to written knowledge was pivotal to each of the great revolutions of the modern era, the scientific revolution, the reformation, industrialization and enlightenment. Reading brought mankind out of the dark ages. And that got me thinking, what would life be like if we lost the ability to read?
Few realize how free, open access to knowledge is the cornerstone of civilization, but what if that knowledge was taken away from us? Would people fight to restore knowledge within a crumbling society? I think the answer is, yes.
Could monsters like this exist in real life?
Monsters similar to those depicted in this novel this have existed at various points in time, right up to the present day.
Haast's eagle of New Zealand went extinct in the 1600s. It had a wingspan of 10 feet and is rumored to have snatched Maori children.
Ligers are a cross between a male lion and a female tiger. Ligers can reach 800 pounds and 12 feet in length, which is roughly the size of the dogs described in this story.
Brutus is a wild crocodile found in the Northern Territory of Australia. At 5.5 meters (18+ feet), Brutus has been known to feed on full-grown Bull Sharks.
The Giant Golden-Crowned Flying Fox has a wingspan of 1.7 meters (5'4")
Friesian cows can stand 6'5" in height and weigh in at over a ton.
Male polar bears regularly reach nine feet in length and up to 1,500 pounds.
The Japanese Spider Crab is long and lanky, reaching up to 12 feet in length, while the Bobbit worm is 10 feet long and venomous.
In 2014, a hunter killed a nine-foot grizzly with a skull bone half an inch thick.
The Blue whale, the whale shark and basking shark, along with elephants and rhinos are all examples of megafauna (large animals) that have survived to modern times.
In Monsters, a combination of Natural Selection and the fallout from Comet Holt allows the outliers in the animal kingdom to become the norm and dominate the food chain.
If the animals became enlarged, why weren't humans also bigger?
The history of life on Earth shows us that Natural Selection doesn't favor one particular size. Even such giants as dinosaurs ranged in size from that of a cat to a three-story building.
During the age of the Megafauna some 10,000 years ago, carnivorous sloths reached sizes larger than an elephant, and yet the humans alive then were roughly the same size as we are now.
What is your favorite Monster within the novel?
Ah... that’s a bit like asking me, who’s my favorite child? I love all of them. In writing Monsters, I wanted to show that monsters aren’t simply dark, foreboding creatures of the night. Some of the scariest monsters in this book are bacteria, or the loss of medical knowledge that costs one of the characters her life. Then there’s us, people. Humans can be monsters every bit as scary as a giant, blood-sucking bat.
Will there be a sequel to Monsters?
I hope so, but that depends on how well the book is received. I’ve got enough material for a sequel, appropriately titled Monstrous.
Are you active on social media?
Yes. My twitter handle is @PeterCawdron, and I can be found on facebook, tumblr and pinterest. I also keep a science fiction blog, called thinking scifi http://thinkingscifi.wordpress.com/
What books do you read?
I enjoy reading a wide variety of books, and I’m never short of someone suggesting another good read. My problem is, I’m a slow reader. The more I enjoy a book, the slower I read, savoring each moment, so I don’t get through as many books as I’d like.
I often struggle to finish books. I’ve been reading Rendezvous with Rama for about five years now. Anyone that follows me on Goodreads will know I have half-a-dozen books I’m reading at any one time, but they can sit on my virtual shelf for quite some time before I finish them. I chop and change between them as my interest grows and wanes.
In particular, I enjoy the classics: Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, H.G. Wells War of the Worlds, Charles Darwin’s The Descent of Man, Benjamin Franklin’s autobiography. But I also enjoy Michael Crichton, Alistair Reynolds, Hugh Howey and Stephen Baxter.
In our day, there’s so much competition from newspapers, the internet, blog posts, video games, movies and TV, that it easy to lose sight of reading books. And yet reading a good book achieves a level of immersion these other, quick-fix mediums lack.
In five years’ time, what will you remember about the TV show you watched last night? Or the news report you read online this morning? Books are formative. A good book can stay with you for a lifetime. Most evenings, I’ll read with my two girls. My son’s a little old for reading with dad these days, but he’ll wander past and hear us reading out loud to each other. At the moment, we’re reading Inkheart, James and the Giant Peach and The Magic of Reality.
Do you watch much television or movies?
Reality TV was the best thing that ever happened to my writing, it got me off the couch and in front of a keyboard. I love a good science fiction or action/adventure movie. I try not to pick apart movies, but plot inconsistencies throw me out of a story quite easily.
What hobbies do you have?
I enjoy running in the forest most weekends. It’s a nice way to unwind and leave a hectic week behind. Here in Australia, it’s common to see wallabies and kangaroos in the early morning. I’ve seen goannas and snakes, and even a wild koala.
Having grown up in New Zealand, I enjoy watching rugby and rugby league. If you’ve never seen either game, imagine a bunch of grown men acting like mountain goats in the rut, running hard at each other and butting their heads together. Throw in an inflated pig skin along with a few white lines on the grass and you get the gist of it.
Do you get help writing your novels?
I do. My wife and close friends help by reviewing early drafts, but there’s a lot of input from fans as well. As a writer I’ve “met” people from around the world without ever actually meeting them in person, including my editor, Ellen Campbell. This is a wonderful part of publishing eBooks. I’ve had the opportunity to “meet” university professors, physicists, surveyors, doctors, aerospace/astronaut instructors, other indie authors and indie book reviewers from as far afield as Florida, well, at least that’s far from Australia.
Sometimes they’ll have some scientific input, correcting technical mistakes, other times they’ll pick up on plot inconsistencies or typos, or problems with a particular stylistic approach. Sometimes they’ll just provide a kind word of encouragement, all of which is deeply appreciated.
Is it hard to write an independent book?
Yes.
Well, I guess that answers the question, but do you have any advice for aspiring authors?
* Writing is an art.
* Don’t underestimate the effort involved.
* Never stop learning.
If I seem a bit withdrawn on the subject, it’s because I could waffle on for hours about it, but I think those three points sum things up nicely.
Independent publishing is tough. Big name authors are, well, big names. If y
ou look at their book covers, their name is the most dominant aspect of the cover. Think about Stephen KING novels you’ve seen. Often, the actual title of each book will be quite small, because books sell on his reputation. And, to be fair, that’s understandable, as how can anyone purchase a book based on its contents before they’ve read it? Independent authors, generally speaking, haven’t developed a name for themselves and so sell almost solely on word-of-mouth.
In this regard, reader reviews are the lifeblood of indie writers. Is Monsters a good book? That’s a question I can’t answer. Well, I can, but no one will believe me. They’ll believe you, though, the reader. In my experience, less than one percent of readers will leave a review on Amazon, GoodReads or Smashwords, etc. But that one percent will carry absolute authority in the mind of other potential readers.
Is Monsters based on any personal experience?
None of the characters or monsters are real, but several of the scenes are loosely based on some of my personal experiences.
I once went mountain climbing in the Colorado Rockies. With snowshoes strapped on our boots, my wife and I hiked up to a peak at just over 11,000ft and I was fascinated by all the dwarf trees on the summit. I wanted to get my photo taken by them, but our guide told us the trees were in fact 30-40 feet high, buried by snow drifts. He explained that because of the conical shape of the trees, it was quite dangerous to stand next to them as you could fall through the branches to the ground so far below. I never did get that photo, but I drew on that moment for one of the scenes in this novel.
Oh, and the section where James paints a harvest bin “the same” is another loosely true story, although the farmer I was working for was quite kind and laughed at the misunderstanding. He’d wanted the bin painted the same as it was originally, red and green, but I painted it the same, all red.
One final question. Where did you get these questions? Did you make them up yourself? Hey, wait. Come back... You haven’t answered the question...
Monsters Page 31
