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| The Last of Their Kind. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Forward. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| The date is 3423 A.D. as you would reckon it, but those numbers have little meaning now. The few humans left wouldn't have the slightest idea what those strange marks are, but I'm getting ahead of myself. I'll start at the beginning and let the rest fall into place... | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Humans were morons. That Y2K thing you're all worried about turned out to be a stupid idea and completely blew over. At the same time you started to pay less and less attention to the environment and more and more to money. Like I said, humans were morons. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| As the ozone got thinner and thinner, the world got warmer and warmer. Areas in Africa, South America, and Australia became deserts of heat and death. The United States government had over the years become more and more corrupt, to the effect of each member of congress making almost a hundred million dollars in unmarked bills per year. Fearing taking action would dent their pocket books, they denied that the global warming was even happening. Desert slowly crept over the earth but that was just the beginning of the storm. The heat melted the ice caps, which shifted the tectonic plates everywhere, causing earth-quakes and volcanoes to reek chaos. The lakes almost completely disappeared, and for an entire two score years the earth cried out for water; then the real disaster struck. Ice caps melting caused the ocean levels to rise and water swept over the land. Suddenly, like a fragile flame, human existence winked out. What irony, the same thing we prayed hardest for was our own downfall. No, not irony, not any more, for after all, irony is a human concept. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Somewhere in the island chain, formerly the Andes mountains, some humans have survived. They live in small villages. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "NOOO!" The child known as Prost cried out in his sleep, and he awoke in a laboring cold sweat. It was nightmares like this that made Prost wish he were dead, and made him dread every night and the cold blanket of fear that accompanied it. Whenever the Wolf Pack attacked it was on the cold nights like this. The Wolf Pack was a group of men that lived by sailing from island to island plundering villages, taking food and women. Listening, had he heard foot steps, war cries? No, crickets, owls hooting. Prost's mother had died on a night like this. Seven great rains had past since that night, he had been only ten. The Wolf Pack had attacked them and burned their small village. He could still hear his mother's cry for help as a few of the men found their way to his family's meager shelter. His dad had left to help the outer defenses and could not do a thing. The men took his mother, TOOK his mother. Prost tried to stop them but they threw him aside. When his dad got home he found his wife raped and dead, his son bleeding on the ground. "If only I had been faster, stronger, smarter I might have saved her." That one thought haunted him until he found his way back into the dismal sleep. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Run, run, branch, duck, log, jump, tree, swerve, tree, swerve, log, jump, tree, swerve, run. The girl known as Mead slowly outdistanced her pursuers. The Wolf Pack had attacked, she had just watched her mother and father murdered before her eyes. In the seventeen great rains that had passed since her birth never had she seen such a horrible sight. Her pursuers were gone but the sorrow they had laid upon her was a heavy burden that followed her everywhere. Mead now ran from her sorrows -- her pain, her grief, her faith in her parents, that like glass fallen had shattered on the ground. They kept steady pace with her own. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| His dad was dead. Prost still saw his dad's lifeless corpse on the ground. Orphaned just like that. They had attacked. The Wolf Pack, just like that, an orphan. Run, Run, faster, faster, must escape. His thoughts were only revenge on the Wolf Pack but his legs headed him the other way. Did that make him a coward? He had been too weak to stop them last time; this time when he could have done something he ran. His legs would not turn. Prost had been running for over an hour though he was never really being chased. Prost was careless in his steps as he half-wandered, half-ran from the village. Was he a coward? "AH!" a log in his path threw him head over heels, then the log got up. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| " HEY!" the log cried out in surprise, "That hurt!" | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| So caught in agony and grief, he barely noticed that the log was a girl about his age, barely noticed and barely cared. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "Who are you and what do you run from?" The girl seemed on the edge of tears, yet Prost barely noticed. Too caught up in his own grief. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "It doesn't matter, not any more." Prost meant for his voice to have no feeling in it, but failed miserably. In those simple words the girl gathered that, like herself, this boy was a recent orphan. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "I've seen you around the village, you're Prost right? You're the son of Kite." | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| The mention of his father's name made the wound of sorrow sting all the more, but it at least pulled him partially from his trance-like state. "No, I was the son of Kite, I'm an orphan now. You are?" It made Prost feel embarrassed not to know this girl's name when she knew his, but he didn't know why. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "I guess I can tell you, since I'm an orphan too. I'm Mead." She said her name with scorn, as if she wished it were not her own and she could spit it out. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "I would say I'm pleased to meet you, but under the circumstances..." Prost left the sentence incomplete as a new wave of sorrow swept over him. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "What are you going to do now that you're an orphan?" Mead asked in a bittersweet tone. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| He thought for only a moment, as all traces of true humanity and compassion left him, "Kill the Wolf Pack!" He would have his revenge. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Part II - The rain. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "We will need help," Mead stated matter-of-factly, "after all, we don't want to get killed." Or did they? Was that why she was so eager to annihilate humans like herself in so many respects? Or was there some other reason, was it this boy she had known only a matter of hours yet agreed with every word he said? Was it for him she wished to do these things? Or was she just stupid in her grief? | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "No," | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Prost word jolted her out of deep thought, | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "I...You can't come!!" At the same time he said that, his emotions cried out, "What are you thinking?" Yet he could not let her come. Could not risk his only companion, new found though she was, to the danger of the Wolf Pack. Could Not! lose her. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "Well, why in the world not?!?" Her blood rushed to her face at this boy, no older than she was, trying to make decisions for her. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "Because. Because, I, I, don't want you to get hurt." He could not let her come. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "Oh, well...well, Prost, whether you want me to or not, I'm coming! And...and you can't stop me!!" Two simultaneous thoughts rushed into her head -- he can't stop me even if he's being nice. And, could he really care about me, care if I get hurt? | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| As much as he regretted it, Prost could not make her stay, "Ok, fine, come." But as he said it he suddenly felt a wave of happiness wash over him. In fact, part of him was overjoyed that she was coming. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Just a moment before, the sun had been coming up, light had been flooding the forest they were in. Now the sun seemed to have disappeared with no traces. Covered completely by rain clouds. A few drops of rain started to fall as if the clouds were testing the ground. Suddenly, BOOM! Rain started to drench everything in hard sheets as the heaven let out all the water of oblivion. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "Prost!" Mead yelled out his name as the rain started. It fell so strong that though she stood but feet from him, she could not hear him. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "I'm right here!" He reached towards where Mead was standing and grabbed her hand. "Follow me! I know a cave where we can get out of the rain!'' She followed him towards what she hoped would be a refuge. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| The cave did provide solace from the rain but the rainy season was upon them. Both Mead and Prost remembered their parents telling them stories when they were young. Stories about when there were great droughts, when there seemed to be more land than ocean. When all the lakes dried up. All the rivers ran with dust. Hard to imagine, on this island of theirs. Every year when the rainy season comes the two twin peaks that make up the Island of Motroca, the same island their village was on, are separated by flood water which makes two smaller islands. When separated like this they are called the little sister and the big sister. The big sister is the one their town is on. Somehow with all their running they had gotten on the wrong side of the island, and in only one or two days they would be separated completely from their village, and from the Wolf Pack. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "Prost?" Mead's voice sounded weak and fragile, they had been in the cave for three days. When Prost had tried to lead her to the cave, he had slipped. He had hit his head on the sharp rocks of the mountain slope. She searched for the cave he had spoken of. Once found, she dragged his unconscious body to it. Mead had left the cave only twice to scrounge for food and timber to build a fire... If he did not wake up soon he would probably not wake up at all. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "Augg." Prost had meant to say, "Where am I?" But the fog that seemed to stifle his thoughts would not let him. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "Stay still, don't try to talk. " | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "Where...am I?'' | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "We're in the cave. Now sleep." Prost slowly drifted into a restless dream. The sky was so dark with rain clouds you could hardly tell the difference between night and day. Yet for two of those weary dark days Mead did not move from her perch by his makeshift bed. She did not let herself sleep a wink until he was completely awake three days later. Slowly Prost started to really recover. After a few weeks when he was good as new, the two of them scrounged for berries and the roots of cocktle bushes. They decided that since the rainy season makes it almost impossible to sail, the Wolf Pack would most likely settle down for a few months. That would give them almost ninety days till they could try to destroy the Wolf Pack once and for all. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| During the brief periods when it wasn't raining they scrounged for food. During the long cold nights they huddled close together by the fire to keep warm. They almost never smiled, no reason to. They both knew that in a matter of months the water would go down, and they would be able to attack their enemies with the wooden spears they had made from tree branches. Then it would be over. Maybe, if they were lucky, they would avenge their parents, by killing at least one of the Wolf Pack's members, or maybe they would just die in a useless suicide run. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Days went by like this. Dawn, till dusk, dawn, till dusk. Work, sleep, work, sleep, there was no end in sight, only a slowly ticking clock...counting the days, counting the days...... | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Part III - Getting ready. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| The rain had ended. For a full three days no rain fell. The birds started to sing, chirping slowly, testing their songs. Soon the ground started to dry and the animals came out of their holes. Spring pushed the rainy season away with a soft breeze and a fox fire foot print. As the water level dropped, Prost and Mead waited eagerly for the land mass of Motroca to become one, not two, islands. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| It happened while Prost was gathering berries on the hilltop. He saw land leading across to the big sister, the larger of the two peaks. Unlike most mornings, Mead was not with him. Instead she was back at the cave attaching stone tips to their wooden spears. It had been an idea of hers ever since they had made the spears but the slopes where they might find the right sharp rocks were too treacherous when wet. He barely ever went anywhere without her, nor did she go anywhere without him. Prost was filled with joy as he ran back to the cave where they had spent the last few months. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Just as he reached the little path that he had made but days before, he stopped. He had enjoyed the last few months. Living and working alongside Mead. She was now the only thing in his life he cared about. Couldn't they be happy just living there? He didn't have to tell her about the water level, did he? But no, foolish thoughts, cowardly thoughts, he was a coward for not wanting to fight Wolf Pack. At least that was what he thought. He had missed his chance twice before. He would not, COULD NOT, miss it again. But didn't he deserve to be happy too? He was torn apart inside by emotions he did not know he had. He ran inside before he could change his mind. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "We'll want to leave soon, before the Wolf Pack does." That was Mead, always the sensible one. "How about tonight? That way we'll surprise them and catch them while they're asleep. Since they haven't had a worry for months they probably won't even have a guard posted." | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| If Prost had been talking to the same Mead he met in a forest months ago he would have been able to tell that she was scared to death. Over the last few months she had become self-sufficient and hard like the land. Prost knew she was scared though, because in the deepest reaches of his soul, he was scared too. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Part IV - The Wolf Pack. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| During the rest of the day they made last minute arrangements. Polished off their stone tipped spears, said good byes to the cave which had sheltered them for so long that they both thought of it as a second home. Though they each wanted to talk about how scared they were, neither of them could bear the icy pain that stabbed their hearts when they thought of the other dying. As the moon was reaching mid-sky, Prost and Mead set out for their old village. Now it was the temporary headquarters of the Wolf Pack. Slowly creeping along on silent feet they made their way towards the village. Odd, Mead thought to herself later, how they could hear no noise coming from the village, and they could see no campfires. As they approached the encampment they crawled on all fours, so as not to be seen. Two-hoo. Two-hoo. The great owl sounded so human as it swooped in to kill a young mouse somewhere nearby. It startled both Mead and Prost so much that they dived for the cover of a nearby tree. In the shadow of this ancient oak they said what they thought would be their good byes, | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "Mead?" | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "Yes?" she whispered, not even caring if Prost saw that she was scared. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "If I die, I want you to know--" | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "I know...me too... Prost, I'm scared...?..." Her statement was so soft that it seemed to be a question in itself. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "We don't have to do this, we can always go back." There was a hopefulness in his voice. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "No." Then Prost and Mead embraced in a hug of pure love. Slowly Prost bent his head down to kiss his love on the cheek, | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "I'll miss you." Scared as he was, he was relieved to acknowledge his love to her. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "And I you.'' | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "Let's go!" | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| They ran towards the nearest farm cottage yelling as they ran. It was a blur to Prost, running, running, a door in his way, break it down and then, dead. All dead. Before Prost or Mead had laid a finger on them they were dead. Two men he recognized from the village lay there slumped on the floor, blades in their chests. Two more were members of the Wolf Pack, rotting, dead for no apparent reason, no wounds or injuries, just dead. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "Prost!" Once she had seen them there she had run to the cottage of her family. Apparently the Leader of the Wolf Pack had used it as his quarters since it was the largest. He was still sitting there, dead, slumped over the table her family had once used to eat on, in front of him was his captain's log. "Prost, we have to get out of here!" She sounded scared, yet determined. They ran, not even bothering to see if some of the men were still alive. They ran hand in hand like the day, months earlier, when their village had been attacked. Now running not from the Wolf Pack itself but from the images of the dead figures slumped on the floor of the cottage once belonging to friends of theirs. How could the Wolf Pack have died like that? No wounds no injuries, just lay down and died. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "Stop, Mead, Stop." Prost could not keep running, he was too tired. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Only a mile or so away, images still fresh in her head, Mead wished only to keep running. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "It should have been me!" Prost cried out with all the strength still left in his soul. "I was supposed to kill them!" He slumped over on the ground sobbing. "I was supposed to kill them." | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "Prost, no one killed them. It was a disease. I read the first page of the captain's log." Prost didn't register what she was saying. The idea of the man's log only brought back the image of his cold dead face. The image of his and a hundred others. His Dad's, Mom's, the person in the cottage, sword in his back. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "Prost!!! A disease!!! It killed every one on all the other islands! We were the only ones it hadn't reached and THEY brought it here. We may have caught it simply by going in the camp!" She was sobbing. ''I'm scared, and...and I don't want to die." | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| "I know, baby, I know." They stayed there the rest of the night. Drowsing under the twinkling stars that laughed at their very existence. Who knows how many starry nights there would be, could be? How many parents have told their children the stories of those stars? Or how many fox fire candles have been lit by their light, how many loving companions have looked up at those twinkling stars? How many lovers have run guided by those stars, how many...I ask you? | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Do you know better than any other? Do you deserve better than the next, do you deserve to live in such a time as this? When you have the power, do you deserve the power? In the end I think not. Does humanity deserve the power it wields or will it destroy itself in slow corruption? Will these two make up for the sins of a thousand men? Or is the human race already doomed by its corruption? I think so. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Can you prove me wrong, or will you...be like any other? | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Author's note. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Is it the love that makes us human? Or is it the corruption? Many hours have I thought this out, and all I know is that I don't know everything, and certainly don't know that. Knowing this I believe is quite a lot after all. But still, which is it that makes us human? The love we possess is unique in many ways. No animal that I know of loves in such a way, yet how many people have talked to animals? Could it be that animals are superior to humankind? That they could possess the love we give ourselves credit for? We think we are smart, but we have only lasted two million years, and if things go how they are going we don't have much longer. Dinosaurs had brains the size of nut shells, yet they lasted over a hundred million years. Can it be our unique ability to become corrupted that makes us human? In stories from centuries ago there were people that were corrupt, yet there were also people that loved. Which are you? That is all I ask. Which are you? | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| Copyright, John Owens-Ream 1999 | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||