The Next World

by Gerry Griffiths

  A bright light shone in their faces.

  Instantly alarmed, Lucy let out a high-pitched, dolphin-like cry.

  Ally shielded her eyes and could see the silhouette of the man holding the flashlight. She crouched in front of Dillon to protect her brother.

  The man lowered the flashlight slightly so that the beam was shining on the ground as he slipped into the stall.

  Ally could see something in his right hand. A hatchet.

  “Get away!” Ally shouted.

  “Yeah, leave us alone!” Dillon yelled at the man.

  Lucy snorted and her right hoof stomped the ground.

  Ally watched in horror as the man raised his hatchet and was about to take another step when suddenly there was raucous laughter. At first, she thought the demented chuckling was coming from the man, but then she saw him looking around, equally baffled by the boisterous cackling.

  Then she spotted something stumble through the gate and come up behind the poacher.

  Ally heard a bone-pulverizing crunch.

  The man screamed and dropped both the flashlight and the hatchet. He fell forward on the ground, digging his fingers into the dirt, obviously in a great amount of pain.

  Hobbie’s head was bent over the man’s right leg. The carnivore’s jaws were closing like a vise around the back of the kneecap, making a sound like concrete breaking up in a grinder.

  The three-legged hyena was remorseless and chomped off the leg.

  Blood gushed out of the stump onto the lower portion of the severed limb lying in the ichor-drenched dirt.

  The man passed out from the shock, soon to be dead.

  Ally grabbed the flashlight and switched it off.

  There was no telling how many more were out there.

  58

  Isoba heard a man scream from somewhere out in the compound. He stayed back in the shadows with his rifle ready, inside the stucco animal enclosure. Duna was bound and gagged next to him. The boss man was determined to free himself and struggled to undo his tied hands.

  “Be still,” Isoba said and jabbed the rifle muzzle into Duna’s ribs.

  Duna glared at his captor, his grumbling muffled as he protested with the bandana covering his mouth.

  “Quiet,” Isoba warned and jabbed his prisoner a second time.

  This time Duna became quiet but kept staring malevolently at Isoba.

  “Duna!” a voice called out in the dark.

  Isoba glanced through the steel bars of the locked door and saw a figure standing twenty feet away. Even though it was dark, he could tell the man was carrying a rifle. The man began walking toward Isoba’s hiding place.

  Each step the man took, Isoba inched the barrel of his rifle farther out between the bars getting ready to fire. He put his cheek on the stock and looked over the sights to line up the shot, aiming for the man’s chest.

  Then he was kicked in the back from behind and thrust against the door.

  A hand from outside ripped the rifle out of Isoba’s hands, pulling the weapon out through the bars.

  Isoba rolled on his side and looked up just as Duna kicked him in the face with both bound feet. Before Isoba could react, Duna had already snatched the cell key and was tossing it to the man outside so he could unlock the door.

  The key jangled in the lock and the heavy door swung open, banging against the clay wall.

  A man entered the tight quarters and quickly cut Duna loose. They grabbed Isoba and dragged him outside and threw him down on the dirt.

  Isoba looked up at the three men standing over him. He could see their faces in the weak moonlight and recognized Abrafo.

  “I want to kill him,” Duna said to his brother.

  “Then do it,” Abrafo said.

  Duna looked at the other man who had only been armed with a machete before snatching away Isoba’s gun and helping Duna escape. Duna put out his hand for Isoba’s weapon. The man didn’t object and handed over the rifle.

  “Sooner or later, you will be stopped,” Isoba said.

  “Not by you,” Duna replied and aimed the gun at Isoba’s head.

  But before the evil poacher could pull the trigger, a woman’s voice called out Abrafo’s name.

  Isoba looked across the yard and saw Dr. Tomie standing just outside the rear door of the clinic. She was leaning on a pair of crutches, though the left one she was using to support herself looked a little irregular.

  “You are as foolish as was your husband,” Abrafo said.

  Isoba was surprised to see Wanda step outside and stand beside the doctor.

  Abrafo and Duna both laughed when they saw that the other woman had her arm in a sling.

  “You think we are afraid of two crippled women?” Abrafo said.

  “As soon as he is dead,” Duna said, looking down at Isoba, “I will enjoy killing you next.”

  “I don’t think so,” Dr. Tomie said. She swung up her left crutch, pointed the end at Abrafo, and a fiery flash came out the end.

  It was then Isoba realized that the crutch was really a rifle.

  The bullet smacked Abrafo in the forehead and carried his brains out the hole in the back of his skull.

  The poacher with the machete dove and grabbed Abrafo’s rifle off the ground. Wanda pulled her Beretta out of the sling and center shot the man in the chest.

  Duna turned the barrel of his gun on Isoba, but Isoba was ready and grabbed the muzzle. He pushed the gun barrel away so that the end was pointing at Duna’s right foot, and then yanked down so that it was Duna pulling the trigger and the one blowing off his own toes.

  Duna yowled and scampered off toward the open gate. A huge shape charged out of the shadows and tackled him to the ground. Duna thrashed about, kicking his feet, his screams muffled by savage growls.

  It wasn’t long before Duna stopped screaming.

  Isoba watched as the Anatolian shepherd came out of the gloom, pranced over to Dr. Tomie, and sat obediently at her side. She reached down and patted the dog on the head.

  “Good boy, Samson.”

  59

  Instead of waiting until daybreak, Frank and Isoba decided to dispose of the bodies during the much-cooler night. Frank’s first thought was that they should bury the men, but Isoba quickly rebutted, saying they were not deserving of a proper burial. Isoba thought it would be more fitting if the animals were given their justice.

  So instead of digging a mass grave, Frank and Isoba hauled the bodies in the transport Jeep a fair distance from the clinic and dumped the corpses in a ravine.

  The gruesome ordeal had taken them three hours.

  After some sleep, Frank went to Dr. Tomie’s office later the next morning. He leaned against the doorjamb and gazed in at Isoba and Celeste, who were sitting at a small table behind the doctor’s desk. Celeste had a microphone up to her mouth and was clicking the button while Isoba fiddled with the knobs on the ham radio.

  “Any luck?” Frank asked. For some reason their cell phones and Internet devices were not working, and they were unable to get service.

  “The signal isn’t strong,” Celeste said. “But we did hear someone cutting in and out.”

  “Maybe the park rangers,” Isoba said.

  “I told them it was imperative that I be airlifted out,” Celeste said.

  Frank turned as Wanda joined him in the doorway.

  “What about the rest of us?” Wanda said indignantly.

  “I’m sorry if that sounded a little harsh, but it’s important that I get back to my observatory.”

  “And why’s that?” Wanda asked, still a little miffed.

  “Remember I told you I’ve been recording these meteor showers for the past three years?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, some other astronomers and I have established a network tracking system linked with every observatory around the world. Which means that we have currently pinpointed the locations of every meteorite that has struck our planet so far.”

  “That would be invaluable information,�
�� Frank agreed. “If we destroy the meteorites, we eliminate the alien threat.”

  “Exactly. Now you see why I have to get out of here.”

  Wanda nodded. “I understand.”

  “I’m sure when they come for me there’ll be room for all of you.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Frank said.

  “So this is great news, right?” Wanda said. “Once Celeste and the others relay the locations to the military, the meteorites can all be destroyed.”

  “Well, don’t forget the insects that have already been affected,” Frank said.

  “Why, they’ll all be dead soon. Bugs don’t live long.”

  “Some do, some don’t. Sure, flies and wasps live only about thirty days. Crickets maybe three months. But it’s the other species that we really need to worry about. Scorpions can live up to fifteen years, some spiders twenty-five years. And if we’re talking about a queen, like a termite, you’re looking at a lifespan of fifty years.”

  “Are you serious? Fifty years?” Wanda said, flabbergasted. “But what if—”

  “If one of those mutations laid eggs, it would be catastrophic.”

  60

  After the family ate supper, Ryan, Ally, and Dillon went off to the cottages while Frank and Wanda stayed behind to wash dishes and clean up the kitchen.

  “You’d think, as I am on vacation, that I’d at least be spared the duties of a scullery wench,” Wanda said, standing in front of the sink with one arm immersed in sudsy water. She handed a plate to Frank so he could rinse it in the adjacent sink.

  “Don’t you mean scullery maid?” Frank said, smirking as he dried the plate and placed it on a stack of plates waiting to be put on a shelf.

  “You know what I mean.” Wanda flicked her right hand out of the soapy water and splashed Frank.

  “Me lady, must I report you to the innkeeper?”

  “Perhaps you would like—”

  “You guys have to come out and see this,” Celeste shouted excitedly, dashing into the mess hall.

  Frank and Wanda turned and looked over the serving counter.

  “Come on! Hurry!” Celeste waved for them to follow her and ran out of the room.

  “Sounds urgent,” Frank said and handed the dishtowel to Wanda so she could dry her hand and wipe off the soapsuds she had splashed on her sling.

  They hurried through the mess hall and turned down the corridor. Frank could hear voices outside. He opened the door that led onto the observation deck where everyone had gathered.

  “What’s going on?” Frank asked, letting Wanda go out ahead of him.

  Ally turned and said, “Something weird down at the lake.”

  “Yeah, check it out,” Ryan said, pointing down the sloping terrain at the large body of water.

  Frank and Wanda came over to take a look.

  “It’s like the water’s dancing,” Dillon said as he looked up at his mother.

  Isoba and his two daughters were also on the deck, witnessing the phenomena.

  Dr. Tomie opened the side door of her office to see what the commotion was all about. She leaned against the doorframe while Samson sat beside her in the open doorway.

  Frank gazed down at the lake, which took up about five acres. The entire surface seemed to be flittering, not sparkling, as he’d seen it do just before an evening sunset.

  This was completely different.

  “What do you think it is?” Wanda asked.

  But before Frank could answer, a huge swarm rose off the lake, like a giant malevolent cloud—and it was heading straight for the observation deck.

  “Oh my God, Frank, there’re millions of them,” Wanda gasped.

  “Everyone, get inside!” Frank yelled.

  Dr. Tomie pulled Samson away from the doorway and stepped back to make room as everyone dashed into her office to escape the winged horde.

  Isoba was the last one in and closed the door but not before the room was engulfed with mayflies.

  Ryan swatted his face while Ally tried to get them out of her hair. Dillon was having fun trying to catch the bugs while Samson attempted to wedge himself under the desk.

  Dayo and Adanna were scooping the tiny insects up with stiff sheets of paper and dumping them into a trash bin while Dr. Tomie covered the top with a folder so that the insects wouldn’t fly back out. Isoba and Celeste used their hands to scoop them off the walls.

  Frank gazed out the office window at the swarm of mayflies, so thick it was impossible to see more than a couple feet.

  He snatched a few out of the air that were flying about the room and glanced at the ones in his palm. The mayflies were in the subimago stage. In an hour or so they would moult into adults with productive sex organs. It always seemed like a cruel joke for a creature to forage for two years as a nymph at the bottom of a lake just to sprout wings for a single day so that it could procreate then die.

  “So what do we do now?” Wanda asked.

  “I guess we have no choice but to wait,” Frank said

  ***

  It was close to midnight by the time the swarm dissipated and a large majority of the mayflies returned to the lake.

  Frank, Wanda, and Celeste had remained in the office while the others camped in the mess hall until the mayfly inundation had passed.

  Frank opened the office door that led out onto the deck. There were thick piles of dead mayflies on the expansive deck, some as deep as two feet, which would have to later be swept away. He figured the female mayflies were back on the water, each one capable of laying 3,000 eggs at one time.

  “Be careful you don’t slip,” Frank said as Celeste followed him out. He stepped warily, feeling the soles of his boots glide over the squishy bugs. He made his way over to a railing and gazed down at the lake glimmering under the sliver of moonlight.

  “Boy, they sure made a mess,” Celeste said, walking gingerly.

  “Smells like a fish market.” Wanda worked her way over to where Frank was standing, sliding her boots across the deck like a cross-country skier then grabbing the railing for support.

  A green flash streaked across the night sky, then another, until there was a steady barrage of meteorites racing over the distant savanna—so many blips that the cosmic event was creating an aurora borealis effect of swirling colors in the atmosphere.

  Frank, Wanda, and Celeste gawked at the heavens, mesmerized by the incredible display of shooting stars.

  Suddenly, a fiery globe swooped down and crashed into the middle of the lake.

  “That was a little too close for comfort,” Frank said, the three of them watching awestruck while the steam rose on the turbulent point of impact.

  61

  For the next three days everyone stayed relatively busy. Frank estimated that the mayfly swarm had been in the billions. They devoted some time to sweeping the observation deck and raking up the dead insects in large piles, creating pathways leading out of exterior doorways so no one would slip and fall on the greasy mush.

  Celeste continued to monitor the ham radio, hoping for a reply to one of her broadcasts.

  Isoba and Adanna had been patrolling the grounds in alternating shifts and decided that they could be more effective establishing a watch station on the roof of the clinic where they could set up some shade and maintain a better view of the surrounding savanna. In the event of trouble, they had an air horn that they could sound to alert everyone in the compound.

  Ryan had helped his mother conduct a thorough inventory of the food supplies on hand. Based upon the amount of people that were currently holed up on the reserve, Wanda had determined that there were enough rations to last them three months, longer if they were to hunt for game. Growing a garden didn’t seem prudent in the withering African heat.

  Water would soon be an issue. Even though there was a well with a moderate amount coming up through the pipe, it was taking exceedingly more hand pumping to draw the liquid up out of the ground. The underground aquifer was probably drying up.

  Knowing that t
heir resources were limited, Dr. Tomie decided it was best to tend to the ailing animals in the clinic as best they could before releasing them back into the wild. Ally and Dayo assisted in caring for the injured animals. When Dillon wasn’t out in the corral bottle-feeding Lucy, he was sitting on the floor in the clinic surrounded by the litter of wild dog pups, letting them take turns nursing on the bottle.

  Frank was just walking into the mess hall to talk with Wanda, who was sitting at a table with Ryan when the air horn blasted outside.

  Wanda looked up from her paperwork and gazed over at Frank. “Are we being attacked?”

  “I don’t know,” Frank said. He turned and dashed out into the hall. Wanda and Ryan were right behind him. They raced for the glass door leading out the front of the building. Banging through the door, they immediately shielded their eyes from the glaring sun.

  Ryan used the palm of his hand as a visor and gazed up. “Look! It’s a plane!”

  Frank turned and gazed up at the two figures standing at the edge of the roof.

  “Your pilot has returned for you,” Isoba called, peering through his binoculars at the approaching aircraft then looking down at Frank.

  “Should we pack up our stuff?” Wanda asked.

  “Just leave it,” Frank said, and looked at Wanda. “There’re still five vacant seats on that plane. That means Celeste, and I know she’ll balk, but I think we should get Gayle to come with us. There’s also enough room for Isoba, Adanna, and Dayo.”

  “Thank you for the offer, Frank” Dr. Tomie said, halfway out the front door. “But I am afraid I will have to decline. I can’t leave the reserve.”

  “I really don’t think it’s safe to stay here.”

  The twin-propeller Beechcraft was making its decent, the two tires under the wings touching down first on the dirt airstrip, followed by the nose landing gear.

  As the small private plane taxied toward Frank and the others, he couldn’t help noticing the rugged condition of parts of the runway, as if a tractor had driven by and dropped a tow-behind plow and scraped up the surface.