Yocto

by Timothy Jon Reynolds

  Of course, Jack knew that they were not guilty by a long shot, and there was a very good chance he was going to ruffle some patriotic feathers by investigating them; same as with the companies that held the DNA keys to resurrecting these animals back onto Earth. But this was the time when no stone could be left unturned.

  Jack picked up the phone to call Anderson and Jeffers, but before he could, a loud expletive erupted from the lunchroom not sixty feet from his office, someone yelling, “Holly shit!” Jack moved to see what the television had to say this time.

  Hours later, looking at the clock, he knew it was time to go home as it was after midnight, yet he still had a lot of things to get done. Then he realized that the days of accomplishing his daily tasks were over. His inbox was always going to outweigh his outbox now.

  He had shut Christy off in his mind as soon as he knew she was no longer alone, although Jack was certain she would be holed up in their room most of the time. At least she was not alone in the house. But he couldn’t let his mind wander to such things on this day, so he was thankful for the serendipitous nature of the events.

  He was still getting over the shock of the brazen food burglary on the East Coast earlier in the day. The scream from the break room had revealed an army division-sized gang had rolled onto a block in Beverly Hills and dispersed to the houses. Several homeowners were gunned down protecting their property and all the food was taken from each house. Society was becoming unraveled.

  Jack forced himself to logoff his work computer, get up, and go home to sleep. A man with no sleep was worthless, to be sure. The drive home seemed to take forever, but it gave him time to look out into the night sky and ponder, why is God choosing to do this to man? Or at least, why is He allowing it to happen to mankind? If mankind were to start to go extinct, would the Hand of God step in to save them? And if not, why? Why create children only to watch them all kill each other or starve to death?

  The theological questions finally stopped as he pulled into the driveway of his house. He shut the car off and headed into who knew what? Hopefully things were at least civil. The last thing he needed was to go from the crumbling world and twenty-hour workdays to dissention in his home.

  Jack walked in, placed his keys on the hook, and followed the voices to the den, where he found his mom and Christy on the couch looking through photo albums and laughing. Three empty wine bottles sat on the table, and four nearly polished wine glasses with merely a sip or two left were scattered about the room. His father and brother came out of the kitchen to greet him and he could tell they had all joined in the drinking.

  Jack took one look at all of them and started to well up. His mom asked, “Lakovos, what is wrong?” Before he knew it, he sat in the nearest chair and began to sob into his hands. His tears were such a mixture of emotions, that for the first time in his life he had no idea why he was crying, and especially why he was crying so hard? The entire Zarifis clan group hugged him for a very long time, and he didn’t know where she was in the pile, but it felt so cathartic to smell his wife’s perfume again.

  * * *

  Karen finished her workout, and as usual, Oleg Vershinin seemed to be around for the view as she headed out. She always felt uncomfortable around him, as he was obviously in lust with her. Maybe he just needed to get back to Earth and get laid, Karen thought. Back in her private chamber, it was time to change her underwear. A lot of life was different here, but the biggest hardship for her was there was no washing machine for over two hundred miles.

  On Earth, Karen was a frequent underwear changer. It was her own near compulsive idiosyncrasy, so being in a place where she only got to change her underwear once every four days or so was a really tough thing for her.

  There was nothing more repulsive to her than when she was sitting in a chair and smelled her own earthy pong rising from her crotch. It was too much at times, and now that she had thoughts of an interlude someday with Anatoly, she had become even more self-conscious than she normally would have been; which was way more than the average person to begin with.

  When the unmanned Progress ship came, she would be able to get rid of the bag of dirty shame she had in her locker. They would all take their dirty clothing and put them in the Progress ship and then send it on a “burn up” re-entry course over the Pacific Ocean. Karen slipped out of her current pair and could instantly smell her own fetid aroma, which precluded her from ever thinking she could ever be spontaneous enough to take in the man that she now had interest in.

  She used a freshening wipe to clean herself up, and then slid the fresh pair of underwear on. With all the strife in the world, Karen was doing something that she assumed was still playing out elsewhere, she was falling in love. Albeit the world was in turmoil, life went on. People were falling in love, getting married, and having babies right now down there.

  She felt guilty for being happy, but if one allowed worry take over all the time, then what was life about anyway? For years she had forgotten about what life was all about, and now a simple phone call to her mom and the affection of a real man had made a dedicated scientist forget that mankind was going down in a ball of flames at the moment.

  The last twenty-four hours had been a global nightmare. The Earth was now divided, and good and evil were playing it out right in front of their eyes. In Germany, Brittan, and France soccer hooligans changed focus since there were no more public sporting events being held anywhere, and were collectively turning their attention to the People of Islam. All three countries were in near total civil unrest as thousands of Muslims were beaten and murdered in the streets and in their homes. Those actions led to a Holy War being called upon for all of Europe from all of Islam.

  Karen opened her chamber door, and as she was about to step out, Oleg forced his way in, blocking the entrance.

  Karen was stunned, and asked, “What are you doing, Oleg?”

  In his broken English, he stated, “Why do you not like me? I am not attractive enough for you?”

  Oleg was very handsome from the neck down, and due to their frequent close proximity, Karen was fairly certain he was well endowed, also based on something she saw through his shorts once. But attraction for her was never physical. For her to even allow herself to melt for a man, it had to be cerebral first. Which is why she had to break his heart and tell him he had no chance. But she tried to soften her stance with him, “Oleg, no, you are a very handsome man. I just don’t feel that way about you, I’m sorry.”

  Until then, Karen had not felt threatened; the situation had just felt like an awkward, yet honest attempt to convey his feelings. But that all changed the minute her words did not make him back up out of her way. “Maybe just once, Karen, our little secret.” And he moved a small amount forward.

  Before Karen could start defending herself, she heard a familiar voice. Anatoly asked from behind, “Is everything alright here?”

  Karen immediately shouted, “No, Anatoly, everything is not alright.”

  She wished she could take those words back as soon as they left her mouth, as Anatoly was no match for Oleg, and if he felt obligated to protect her, he would surely lose against the rock hard Oleg. Anatoly was a scientist. On Earth, he rode a bike. She knew for a fact that Oleg was some kind of man’s man, what with a military background and all.

  Oleg turned in the bulkhead and faced Anatoly, “There is nothing here that concerns you, Anatoly, now go before you are sorry.”

  Karen braced for the worst, and then she heard the cry of pain. But it wasn’t Anatoly who was squealing, it was Oleg, and he quickly exited the entrance of her quarters in a kind of bent over way. As he got pushed back to her right, she could see that Anatoly had him in a martial art’s wristlock. Anatoly never mentioned it, but his father was a seventh degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do. All of his boys held black belts as well.

  He spoke with authority, “Oleg, I can only hope that you were just being yourself, which is an over-aggressive asshole. Because if I saw what I think I saw, and
she writes a statement, then you are going to the camps.”

  Terrified by that thought, Flight Commander Oleg Vershinin got control of his senses and started his appeal, “You know I would never be so low, Anatoly. It gets lonely here and I just lost my head a little.”

  Karen heard a scream as Anatoly wrenched the wrist more, then he maneuvered Oleg into the wall and his left hand disappeared into their intertwined bodies, about lower mid-section. What she heard next was depraved. First she heard Oleg ask, “What are you doing?” quite frantically, then she heard the most horrendous plea scream she had ever heard. Oleg’s body was twisting and undulating in a way that told Karen that whatever pressure point Anatoly was working on the man created unbearable pain. Then Anatoly demanded, “Are you done with this, Oleg? Are you?”

  Oleg couldn’t answer quickly enough, “Yes, I am done with this.”

  Anatoly then pushed him off, and sent him on his way. Karen had never been more enamored of a man. He came into her chamber to ask if she was okay, and after she closed the door on them, she was glad she had changed her underwear and freshened up . . .

  * * *

  Nhu-Y-Le could not stop her nose from running, it was horrible, and they wouldn’t give her any medicine. Her head was pounding, her body was sore, and she had a horrible cough. These insensitive assholes in their space suits were robotically caring for her like she was the monkey in a lab. Then Nhu-Y-Le realized she was . . .

  She was informed that Hoang Ngo had passed away, and that was horrible in and of itself, as they were close friends. No one even cared. No grief counseling, no compassion from anyone at all. She was starting to understand the fate Hoang passed on to her and she was terrified and alone.

  Suddenly something happened that didn’t make sense. A woman with a clipboard and a smock came into her room. “Hi Nhu-Y-Le, I know seeing me like this is a shock after the last two days, but I came here to tell you that you have a common cold, nothing more. Right now, a very relieved world is getting that news also. We’re going to keep you for observation for a couple more days, but the space suits come off, and it will be like a small rest for you, no need for anxiety.”

  Nhu-Y-Le did not say a word; she just broke down, sobbing and turned toward her pillow.

  * * *

  The field trip was almost cancelled, but the news of the break in the flu panic coupled with the fact they were a private school, and the trip was back on. Mount Pine Academy rented a small private bus to take the kids up to the Sierras. Mr. Hand was an expert in forestry, as he was a reserve fireman in the forestry service as well as a middle school teacher. It was a quick one-hour drive up to the area below the Sonora Pass, and soon he and his twelve students were heading down a thousand-yard slope that ran down to the South Fork of the American River.

  Although due to the recent drought the river was a mere trickle at this point, it was that mere trickle that had brought Mr. Hand here to begin with. He had been monitoring a beaver family for two years now, and even though most people hated the drought, it gave Mr. Hand a chance to observe how these resourceful animals weathered adversity, and if their dams seem to be a help or hindrance to the area. About two thirds of the way down, Julie Brooks, one of his eighth graders, called out, “Mr. Hand, I see a huge hive of some kind.”

  Julie was one of his sharp ones and remembered that he was also hoping to run across a wild beehive, and had asked all of his students to be on the lookout for one. He instructed everyone to stay put, and then made his way back up to where she was. Sure enough, it was a very large beehive nestled in a bristlecone pine tree. But it must have been abandoned, as there seemed to be no activity. That observation began to thrill Mr. Hand to no end, as they could take it and dissect it, a rare treat.

  Right away, however, he observed that something was not right; for the ground directly under the hive was littered with hundreds of dead bees. Confused and trying to gain perspective, it was not lost on him that a massive bee die-off had been under way worldwide for some time. That was why he was hoping to see a hive, but he never could have guessed that this would be the result. Having recently read a report that postulated that microscopic mites could be the culprits in this great die-off event, he wondered to himself if these same mites had done these guys in as well. His field trip took on a new mission—they would collect as many of the bees as possible, take the hive down, and then bring them all to his friend, Bill Hadley, an Entomologist.

  It saddened him to no end to think that something was causing the most important link in nature’s pollination process to be wiped off the face of the earth. It never occurred to Gabe Hand that this discovery was related in any way to the other recent die-off events that had plagued the earth as of late. These insects were already in the midst of the their own extinction event, so a connection between the two never crossed his mind.

  That was until he turned on the radio during the trip home. That’s when Gabe Hand was informed of what most of the world already knew. That morning, while they were driving into the mountains with no signal on their cell phones, all the bees in the world had died—and they had missed the absolute fear and further bedlam that had spread throughout their world in the amount of time it took to take a day trip. The New World Order apparently included that you couldn't take your eye off the ball for even a day trip.

  * * *

  Jack awoke at seven—and was already late according to his phone’s log of messages. He was about an hour late apparently. The night before, after the family talk, post breakdown, a hot shower and some amazing sex, he only got about four hours of sleep, but it was well worth it . . .

  He showered, shaved, and dressed in under ten minutes, as Christy had the foresight to already have his clothes laid out. He was eating a piece of peanut butter toast she’d made for him when the Secretary of Agriculture came on the TV. He was fielding questions about the effect that the death of the eleven key scientists killed on the White House lawn was having on their progress to understand what was happening.

  The next thing the press asked was, “Who’s running the West Coast for the USDA now?” Before Jack knew it, his name was being mentioned as the man in charge and a leading mind toward finding the solution.

  Jack noted that his age did not come up and he was thankful, as he was a child compared to most of the people affiliated with working on the solution. It worried him that it could be a hindrance to him being an effective leader.

  He kissed his wife upon leaving and observed a new addition to his life as he hit the driveway. Apparently, two Federal Agents were parked in an unmarked car right in front of his driveway. As he got into his car, they started theirs and backed out, never saying a word, just the obligatory nod behind dark glasses.

  He put the car in gear and started to roll when Christy came running to him. He jammed the brake, placed the car back in park and rolled the window down. She leaned in and said, “I never told you I was sorry for being a spoiled child and a bad wife, but I am.”

  He cupped her face in his hands and said, “I love you.”

  They kissed and he headed out, but not before she told him that Dimitri had been procuring produce from farmers he’d befriended, so tonight was going to be fresh Minestrone soup. Jack laughed at his brother’s ability to forage yet Christy really didn’t get why until he elaborated the night before. He explained to her that every summer they went to Greek Camp. Dimitri always felt cheated at dessert time, so he would invent outrageous ways to obtain things he wanted.

  They did a lot of reading growing up and his nickname became Milo Minderbinder, after the lovable character in Catch 22. His brother was a force and by the time they became counselors, Dimitri was a full-blown entrepreneur.

  Jack headed to work with a sense of hope, and that sense of hope floated him until lunchtime. He should have known better than to go into the lunchroom, as it seemed to be a place for him to find bad luck, but he brought his sandwich there rather than eat in his office by himself. He hated to eat alone for s
ome reason. Jack had always been popular due to his good nature, so it was not awkward for him to eat in a place David never would have stepped foot into, but it wasn’t long before he was regretting his decision to eat here as well.

  The TV news was talking about diversity. Suddenly, everyone needed to be an expert on victory gardens, hanging gardens, and every other type of garden. One thing was for sure; America was going to get a lot healthier with the absence of two of the foods that were killing them. Then the breaking report from Salt Lake City, Utah—some beekeepers there said a die-off was happening and all their bees were dying.

  Jack listened and thought that there had been a die-off of bees for some time now, mites were the biggest suspects, but this seemed to be different. And then a horrid feeling of foreboding fell upon him. Bees! Pollination!

  Before Jack could even process that thought, another food robbery was in the headlines, and they put the bee story on the back burner to go to the breaking story. And there it was. Mankind’s absolute worst attribute: no attention span. This time the news was about a robbery of a high-end cheese maker who had a large store of aged cheese along with different cured meats. It was another smash and rob by a large, heavily armed gang. Unlike the Beverly Hills incident where five different police cars and the men and women inside were turned to a sieve in a fusillade of gunfire, this one ended in only one police vehicle being destroyed. The gang in Beverly Hills had used over thirty vehicles, most of them trucks with gunmen in the back using automatic weapons.

  The Pasadena cheese bandits used a bus full of armed gunmen for their heist, but they also had a truck or two to protect them. The men in the back of their trucks had portable rocket launchers though, and when the police helicopter showed up to follow them, they left the downed craft burning in the middle of the Pasadena Freeway, along with a multitude of cars in the wrong place at the wrong time.