Children of Extinction

by Geoff North

  “Oh shit,” Abe whispered. “They’re not human.”

  Not quite, Becky thought. They walked on two feet and carried weapons like humans. Their bodies were covered in light furs—or so Becky first thought. They advanced further and she realized it was hair covering their powerful arms and legs. “Neanderthal, I think… maybe Cro-Magnon,” she whispered back.

  Becky and Abe could fight their way out of this—human, Neanderthal, Cro-Magnon—it didn’t matter which. The teenagers were ten to twenty times stronger than any bipedal race on earth from this time or any other. Better still, they could run. But whether they fought or fled, chances were that Ann and Boo wouldn’t survive the encounter.

  Their eyes were set far apart, separated by flat, brutish noses. A thick protrusion of boney brow and low-sloping skull lent them an even more menacing look. Their lower jaws resembled anvils housing teeth twice the size of any Becky had ever seen on a human.

  She felt Abe’s fingers tighten around her arm. “We won’t be able to talk or scream our way out of this. I’m not even sure they can communicate each other.”

  The children sank to their knees and covered their heads. Over four dozen hairy bodies were closing in, and more were spilling out from the reeds.

  “There won’t be enough meat on those animals to feed them,” Becky said. “If they kill us, it won’t be because they think we’re a threat.”

  Abe finished for her. “They see us as food.” He offered his hands up slowly, praying there was enough intelligence gathered in the crowd to see they meant no harm. Silence in return. The circle continued to close, bloodied spear ends almost close enough to touch.

  There was a grunt somewhere behind the first line of beings directly in front of Abe. He could see blonde hair above the greasy black wave of heads. The shorter beings stood aside and let the taller one through.

  He smiled and spoke.

  “Hello!”

  Chapter 12

  Hello seemed to be the only word he knew. The man repeated it often as Abe, Becky, and the children were herded into the Neanderthal village. Hello when they saw the primitive mud huts. Hello as they passed the stinking carcass of a hippopotamus being stripped of meat and drained of fat by women uglier than the men. Hello as they were pushed by a circle of children squatting over a black pool of reeking feces and urine. Hello. Hello. Hello.

  Abe had tried to talk to the man but was poked in the back with a stone spear point hard enough to almost draw blood. Had it been any other human, the spear would’ve sunk straight through. Abe’s skin was much tougher than it looked, and he had the feeling these people knew it, too. Becky remained silent.

  The man shook his head adamantly and whispered the word like a warning. Hello! Abe and Becky allowed themselves to be led along as the man repeated his word. Was he trying to calm them? Becky sensed he was saying it for their sake—a constant reminder he was one of them—and when the time was right, they would be able to exchange a little more.

  They were led to the center of the encampment and forced to sit in a huddle where other villagers could circle around and study them from a safe distance. Homely females would sneer in disgust; bow-legged children would dart in from time to time to poke them with sticks. Half a dozen full grown males stood guard, prepared to steer the more aggressive onlookers away and keep the humans in place.

  Abe kept his eye on the blonde man seated between Boo and Ann. He was still grinning from ear to ear, still repeating that single greeting over and over. Abe leaned closer and whispered. “Is that the only word you know?”

  The man looked from side to side warily, and when he felt certain their conversation couldn’t be overheard, he whispered back from the corner of his mouth. “Who hit first? Kennedy or Khrushchev? Was there anything left?”

  “What?” Becky asked.

  “Ssshhh… They have no vocal cords. They can’t speak and it really pisses them off when humans do. Hello is about the only thing they’ll let me say out loud. Keep everything to a whisper.”

  “Kennedy and Krewchev,” Abe said. “What’s that supposed to mean? Who’s Krewchev?”

  “The Cuban Missile Crisis,” Becky answered. Abe gave her a blank look. It seemed he was as ignorant in twentieth century events as he was prehistory. “He thinks the Soviet Union went to war with the United States in the sixties.”

  “Didn’t they?” The blonde man asked.

  “Of course not. It was a close call… but no.”

  “There was no nuclear war?” He appeared almost disappointed. “But I always believed deep down that’s why we were sent here… to avoid mankind’s final—”

  Abe interrupted as the man’s words drifted off into quiet thought. “We? There’s more here than you?”

  “My daughter… Jillian. She was only twelve.” Tears had begun to pool in his eyes. “It was a Saturday… October 27th. We’d been watching the news for days… the escalation of events. My wife and I believed it might be the last night any of us would spend together.”

  “Krewchev?” Abe butted in again. “Wasn’t Kennedy assassinated? What did the Cubans have to do with the United States and Russia? I don’t remember learning anything about that in school.”

  Becky snapped at him. “You don’t remember anything from school because you never paid attention. Now would you please shut up and let him talk?”

  Abe looked hurt but did as she said.

  “Last night on earth…” He repeated the words silently, his eyes focused on a clump of dry mud at his feet. “We tried to keep Jillian away from the television… didn’t want her to see how bad things were getting… didn’t want her to see the fear in our eyes.” He looked up at Becky and smiled. It sent a tear down his cheek. “That was so long ago. We’ve been through so much since then… forced to do terrible things. Sometimes I wonder if it would’ve been better if it had all ended there… In 1962. I’ve missed Bonnie so much.”

  “Bonnie?” Abe asked.

  “My wife.” He started to weep.

  “There was no war,” Becky reassured him again. “She might still be alive.”

  He frowned and Becky realized that possibility might be even more painful. She studied his face closely and tried to guess his age. There were a few flecks of grey in the blonde sideburns, his skin was tanned dark but relatively unlined. He couldn’t have been much more than forty. She was about to ask how old he was—how long he’d been here—when he started talking again.

  “I wanted Jillian to see the farm one last time. We walked along the forest’s edge and watched the sun set.”

  Abe’s head perked up. “Farm? The forest?”

  “That’s when we saw it—the little grey thing.” He started to giggle. It was holding a goddamn soccer ball to its chest. Thought I was dreaming… a soccer ball of all things.”

  Abe and Becky exchanged a look. How could it be holding the soccer ball Abe had thrown fifty years later? She shook her head at the thought. There was much they didn’t know, and a lot more they never would, unless they questioned him further. Her next question was for Abe. “How long have your parents lived on the farm? Who did they buy the place from?”

  Abe closed his eyes and searched his memory. “I was just a little kid—me and Sheila were like six or seven.” His eyes shot open. “Mrs. Greely! They bought the place from an old lady named Mrs. Greely. She passed away just a few years ago.”

  The man nodded somberly. “She was my wife. I’m Edwin Greely.”

  “And you’ve been here for over fifty years,” Becky whispered. “Where’s your daughter, Edwin? Where’s Jillian?”

  Silence.

  Abe pushed. “The thing in the woods… the grey being—did it speak in your head? Did it tell you what it wanted? Did it send you here for a reason?”

  He remained silent for so long they thought he either hadn’t heard the question or refused to answer. Finally the choking reply came. “Oh yes… It spoke inside our brains… said horrible things… infected our bodies with disease and
sent us back in time seventy-five thousand years. Our bodies were changed… toughened, strengthened to a point that nothing could cause us harm. We stopped aging but our bodies still carried the sickness.”

  Abe pieced the rest together easily enough. “Becky… it infected us with some kind of virus.” He reached for her. “It was us… We killed Boo and Ann’s people. It was us.”

  Becky was stunned. “Why? Why make us strong and immortal and send us back carrying some kind of sickness?”

  “That is the whole point,” Edwin whispered. “It wants the human race extinct. And what better way to do it than sending back disease-carriers to a time when humanity’s numbers were at its lowest?”

  “It told you that?” Abe asked.

  “Of course it didn’t tell us all that… almost everything it said was a lie. Did it tell you anything about where you were going or what you were expected to do?” Abe shook his head. “I didn’t think so. It told me just enough so my daughter and I could survive—how it strengthened our bodies to make it through the Ice Age, how a super-volcano somewhere in Indonesia would eventually blow and decimate mankind’s numbers even further… It said we were being sent back to guarantee humanity’s survival.”

  Becky and Abe shared a look. The super volcano part of his story made sense. They’d been living in the shadow of its aftermath for months.

  Edwin started speaking again, his voice low and hate-filled. “Guarantee humanity’s survival… I was stupid enough to believe it in the beginning. It gave us just enough hope to get by. But deep down I knew the little bastard was lying. Humanity made it through the Ice Age all on their own. It wasn’t helped along the way.”

  Becky shifted her gaze to Boo and Ann. “They never got sick. They’ve been with us for months. Will they eventually catch the disease, too?”

  “I doubt it. Anyone still alive after that much time has passed is likely immune to the virus we carry. I’ve only seen it a couple of times before. It’s an effective sickness… extremely hardy and insidious. They’re lucky to be alive.”

  “Lucky,” Becky responded in disgust. “We’re responsible for the death of their parents—of everyone they knew and loved.”

  “More reason they have to stay with us now,” Abe said. “We are their parents now.”

  A figure pushed through the circle of guards carrying a bundle of grass-woven rope over one hairy shoulder.

  “Tie-up time,” Edwin mumbled.

  Abe wanted to fight but saw the warning shake of Edwin’s head. He relaxed his limbs and allowed his wrists to be tied behind his back. They were separated from the children and led to a pit six feet across and eight feet deep. Rough hands shoved them in. Becky snapped her ropes and tried to claw her way up. Four spears were pointed at her face.

  “Where are they taking Boo and Ann?” She shrieked. “Bring them back!” One of the spear points jabbed the soft recess above her collar bone and forced her back down.

  “Wait,” Abe urged. “We won’t be able to do them any good if we end up dead down here.”

  Edwin was nodding. “There’s time. You’ll see them one last time, I’m sure.”

  Becky’s voice finally lowered. “One more time? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Children like that are rare. They survived the disease… they’ve become carriers like us. They’ll be led off to different places, find more humans to spread the sickness to.”

  Abe was leaning against the cool wall of black earth trying to comprehend what it all meant. “It makes no sense. Won’t these… these people become sick as well?”

  “These people aren’t human. You can see that. They’re some failed race of hominid given a second chance. They’ve been given the perfect weapon to wipe out their most dangerous competitor.”

  “Humans sent back in time to wipe out more humans,” Abe said.

  “Like pox-ridden blankets given to the natives of North America,” Becky added knowing full well only Greely would understand. “That thing is making us do its dirty work because it no longer can.” She pictured the alien in the forest, its craft crashed in the ground and snagged on the branches. She sought Edwin’s eyes in the dark. “Where’s your daughter? What happened to Jillian?”

  “We were kept together in the beginning. They sent us to human gatherings and we spread the disease. Twenty, maybe twenty-five years ago they split us up. It took them that long to figure out more sickness could be spread if we were separated. Stupid thals—that’s what Jillian used to call them, short for Neanderthals—is it any wonder they went extinct?” He giggled softly and went deathly quiet for a time. “I’m sure she’s dead now… been so long… I hope she is.”

  They watched the dull grey circle of light above their heads darken. Edwin started to sing when the grey turned to total black. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are—”

  “Why didn’t you fight back?” Becky interrupted. “You had the strength. You could’ve escaped and went after her.”

  Edwin finished his song before answering. “It was her favorite when she was a little kid. She made me sing it every night after I tucked her into bed. It’s how I remember her now… that and I like to hear the sound of my own voice.” Even in the pitch black, both teens could sense him grinning. “If I didn’t sing from time to time, I think I might go mad.”

  A little late for that, Abe thought. He tore free from the rope behind his back. “Where did they take the children?”

  “Don’t worry. They won’t move them in the dark.”

  Becky nudged Abe in the dark. “We’re not staying here.”

  “Let’s wait until most of them are asleep.” He paused for a moment to consider the easiest way to say what had to be said next. “We’ll have to move fast and keep quiet. We can’t afford to play safe. Hit them hard, Becky… If that means killing…”

  “They’re using us like weapons to murder our own people,” she answered. “It won’t be a problem.”

  After two full hours had passed Edwin spoke again. “Now would be the best time. Your vision is much better in the dark than theirs. Grab the children and head north into the delta. It’s swampy there and will be difficult for them to follow.”

  “You’re coming with us?” Becky asked.

  “I’ll create a distraction, give you a head start.” They could hear the strands behind his back giving way, like tearing cloth. “But as enhanced as our bodies are, their sense of smell is better. Make no mistake of this—they’ll track you as long as they can smell you… and they’ll be able to smell you from miles away.”

  “The kids,” Abe urged. “Where are they?”

  “There’s a second pit, like this one, another hundred yards or so north along the way. At first light they’ll be pulled out, fed, and separated. A party will take one east, another will head west. You’ll only have one chance at this, so make it count.”

  Becky moved silently onto her knees and Edwin’s face was suddenly inches from hers. She could smell the sourness of his breath as he whispered. “I gave up on life… on humanity decades ago. These… Neanderthals were the only company I had left. I should’ve murdered them—wiped their race from the face of the earth. I’ve been weak… You’ve given me hope again. There was no nuclear Armageddon. That grey thing in the woods is still there… sending people back. It’s always there. Go! Save the children and find it. Kill it… Kill it.”

  Abe’s heart was hammering. His need to go home—the urge that had set them on a journey half way around the world suddenly made sense. He was aware it may have been the alien’s doing—that it wanted him to travel and spread the disease—but another part of him, another piece somewhere deep down inside knew the thing would still be there, even in the past. He wasn’t going home just for the sake of going home. Abe was heading back to finish this.

  “Come with us,” Becky pleaded a final time. “You don’t have to stay here any longer. You’re not alone.”

  “Will you find my daughter? W
ill you take me home to a young wife?”

  Becky couldn’t answer.

  “Then it’s settled.” Edwin stood and stretched his limbs, giving a long yawn. He squatted momentarily and jumped, screaming at the top of his lungs.

  They could hear grunting and shuffling, spears dragged across dirt and lifted as slumbering thals came awake. And then they heard the unmistakable sound of bones breaking. Edwin’s screams continued over it all, and it wasn’t until Becky and Abe had emerged from the pit and started north that they recognized the high-pitched shrieks for singing. You are My Sunshine. Edwin snapped Neanderthal limbs as he sang—he crushed in low-sloping skulls and snapped spines over his knees. Becky slowed and watched over her shoulder as Edwin was surrounded by more and more dark figures. If she lived through the night, that song would never sound quite the same ever again.

  Abe pulled at her. “Forget him, the kids are just ahead—I can hear Ann!”

  She hesitated. The circle closed in on Edwin. More figures were converging on the spot than there were bodies falling broken and dead to the ground. They started to jab with their spears, hard enough to knock him around, but still not forceful enough to break skin. He’s too valuable to lose, Becky thought. The more they poked and prodded, the more violent he became. The singing got worse.

  “I have them!” Abe shouted from somewhere ahead. “Becky, I have them, let’s go!”

  Becky was frozen in place, her feet unwilling to respond until the grisly song ended. The noose was tightening around Greely, the spears jabbing harder, and still Edwin sung on.

  “The other night dear as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms—”

  She saw another spear dart in with much more force, but Edwin’s skin was tougher still. A second Neanderthal grabbed at the spear’s end and pushed, doubling the strength of its original wielder. They pushed with all of their strength, and finally the stone end disappeared into Edwin’s abdomen. She could hear as it grated against his spine and saw the bloodied end shoot out from his lower back. A black stream of blood and shredded intestine followed and Edwin sunk to his knees.