|
The sun rose like an orb of blood, for all the days saw rain now. When it didn't rain it was blistering hot, and the equator had long ceased to be a region in which life could exist. Waters had all become warm now, except from the tiny springs in the mountains. Because of the heat the water that had redistributed a plethora of heavy metals, and new life forms were beginning to develop.
Conrad stood on the eastern shoulder of a hill and scanned the horizons for signs of other humans. He knew there were plenty out there, but many were so sick from West Nile Disease that they were themselves spreading contagion. An overwhelming majority of the population resembled lepers because of contact with the giant hogweed that had taken over the Earth. The rarified atmosphere and resultant high waters had agreed with the noxious plant. Any patch of green had to be scrutinized from a distance before approach. Failure to do this resulted in months of misery. When contact was
constant, many people went mad and were capable of deeds a sane mind can not even imagine.
As near as the man could figure, this was New Year's Day 2063. New Year's Eve had been a total bust, with no date and nowhere to take her if he had one. Well, maybe the Hatfields would have had a party. Their distrustful nature had served them well when the rest of the world went amok. They had just kept moving from one mountain to another until they were but ten miles from him right now. He was an outsider, and while he could visit, the men all kept a very watchful eye on him. There was no way he was getting one of their women. In fact, he was aware that the clan had become cannibalistic. On his last visit, he had seen the bones in back of the camp, and the way they started to look at him gave him the creeps.
Conrad remembered television and the old clips of New Year's Eve in Times Square. In was all gone now. Guy Lombardo, Times Square, New York City; all gone even before the area became part of the ocean's bottom. The Appalachians and Blue Ridge mountains were still populated. The crush of people from the cities had made them very dangerous. Cannibalism was the least of the heinous crimes committed. No wonder the Hatfields had moved out here to the Rockies. They had survived the feud with the McCoys two centuries before, but they knew they were no match for the two legged beasts that now roamed the East.
The man squinted again into the horizon. There was a small movement out there on the water, a tiny craft barely moving. He cursed the day when he had lost his binoculars - the day a pack of kill
crazed Dalmatians had rushed him, their black and white coats splattered with the blood of the small child they had just devoured. He had to shoot six of them before they tired of the attack and went in search of easier prey.
Most dogs had either been utilized as food or set free to menace other living things. Cats had been set free too, but these were the first things the dogs ate. Then they turned on the people.
Out on the water the object turned into a crude boat with a tiny sail. Conrad did not signal. What chance it was a woman? Very, very slim. Yet, wasn't that long blond hair that he saw under the sail?
Governments had long ago ceased to exist. People realized they were pointless and had indeed caused many of their problems. When the last election had been proposed thirty years ago, there was an interest level of zero. When an old woman named Hillary had stepped forward and proclaimed herself Absolute Ruler, the remnants of the standing army took their weapons and went off to join the rest of the people in the hills. The old woman died a raving egomaniac.
The present scarcity of females was due to the change that had occurred in the past ten years. Most men, when finding an undamaged woman, kept her chained out of sight. The female of the species had gone back to being property, losing the gains that had taken so many years to achieve.
Conrad was lonely in many ways, but the most aching void was that of an intelligent person to converse with. It had been nearly two years since he had engaged in an intelligent conversation. Perhaps this woman in the boat would be the answer. It seemed too much to ask for. He tried not to become anxious, but he could feel his pulse quicken. This could be a chance for a new life.
His own boat he had packed in pieces over the mountains, ready to head out on the Pacific eventually. He had no idea what might remain of the Eastern part of the world, and an attempt to get there could well be suicidal. Yet, what was here? He didn't know why he had stayed here as long as he had. Perhaps sub-consciously he was afraid of the far reaches of sea on the other side of the range.
He was sure now that a blond woman was in the boat. He called but got no response. She was probably asleep from boredom and the heat of the sun. Stepping into the light surf he caught the painter line, towed the boat halfway out on the beach, and said in his finest voice, "So glad that you could stop by."
Then he walked around to see her face and recoiled in horror.
The face was only bone and cartilage; birds having pecked out the eyes and insects had stripped off the lips and cheeks. The exposed teeth were making a hideous grin at the mast. The movement of bloodworms showed behind the empty eye sockets where they were devouring the brain. As he watched the sightless eyes of a hagfish showed as the big slime eel squirmed part way out of the mouth, then changed its mind and went back in.
Conrad walked down the beach, grief stricken. The waste, the lost dream, the utter horror. He pulled his pistol and looked at it. How easy it would be to raise it to his temple and put an end to it. Why not?
He knew why not. He had life, and while there was life there was hope. He glanced back at the boat on the beach. At least he was getting out here. He was no loner afraid of the vast Pacific. It held hope where this place had lost it.
He started on the long trek over the mountains, and he did not look back at the body on the beach again.
©2002 StoriesByEmail.com
|
