Countdown to Extinction

by Louise Moss

  It grew dark. Everyone looked up at the sky. There, for a few seconds, was a large cylindrical object about a half a mile long. Emma pulled the children tightly to her. Christine fainted on the pitch. Richard fell to the ground and covered his head with his arms. Susan clutched her stomach. Only Gerald and Pete kept on looking as the ship ascend vertically at high speed. “That’s not possible,” Gerald said.

  Pete had been born late in the 21st century. “I saw that at an air show once,” he said, “but never such a big bugger.”

  Hagan had learned as a child, that in 2175, a flotilla of fifty ships from the planet Xelgo were seen by the Earth people as they passed by on their way to Alpha Centauri. Although most of the population could not see them, there were a few individuals who knew they were there. When they described what they could see, there was panic, with those underneath the flight path claiming all sorts of ills, from blindness to implants. All were discounted as hysteria. The Government put out stories of secret military flights and unusual space phenomena linked to comets or asteroids, but the panic continued, with people leaving their homes, convinced aliens had ‘come to get them’, burning their houses and most of their possessions before they fled.

  The Government rounded up all those who claimed to have seen the ships and kept them locked away in a mental institution. The rest of the population was too afraid to say anything and peace was restored. It was a false peace, though, which was to bubble up later in a riot that lasted seventy-two days, with military establishments and government buildings targeted throughout the world.

  He must ensure that nothing like this happened again. Already, alarm was spreading through the Primitives. They had gathered in Gerald’s cottage and were all talking at once. He must go to them.

  He stood framed in the doorway of the cottage, trying to avoid breathing in their damp, sweaty smell. Emma and June were seated on the only two chairs, Christine was on the bean bag and Susan was laying on the floor groaning. Gerald, Richard and Pete sat on the floor. Aurora played in the corner with a few toys: a wooden rattle Pete had made, a doll and a little car.

  “It was only a ship passing by,” he said. “There is no cause for alarm.”

  They regarded him with wide open eyes. Finally Gerald said, “What did they want?”

  “They were refugees from a planet that was destroyed by an earthquake. They saw that the Earth could not support them and have gone to seek sanctuary elsewhere.”

  “They’ve gone?” someone asked.

  “Yes, they have gone.” It was not true, but it was what they wanted to hear.

  22

  “I’ve never seen anything like this before, it’s not potato blight or aphids. I’m not sure what it is,” Richard said. All around, the plants had begun to wither and turn yellow.

  It was the same in the dome. Hagan believed it had something to do with the Kudlu child. Most likely, he had introduced foreign matter to the planet.

  He must work with the Kudlu to control the situation before the Primitives became violent and dangerous. First, he would get them all out of the way so that they did not interfere with what he was doing.

  “You need not concern yourself with the damage to the plants,” he told them.

  “You know what’s wrong then?” Gerald asked.

  “You will go to the town and see whether the plants there have also been affected. I will send a pod.”

  “I’ll go. It doesn’t need all of us,” Richard said.

  “It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order,” Gerald said.

  “We don’t have to do what he says.” Richard glanced at the set expressions of the others and shrugged. “OK, let’s all go. It doesn’t make any difference to me.”

  Only Susan was pleased. She would see Michael again.

  As the pod slid silently to a halt in front of the cottages, Emma scooped up the wooden bricks for Aurora to play with on the journey and Gerald picked up his Swiss army knife. He had managed to persuade Hagan that this was as essential a tool as hammers and saws.

  Beyond the farm, the hazel, oak and ash they had planted to form a wood had begun to wither.

  Gerald mulled over what he would say when Derek and Janice realised that there really was nothing beyond the farm, that the earth really was completely bare. As they passed the plains where the Nguni cattle with their black and white markings and large, curved horns, grazed on the withering grass, he prepared himself for the sight ahead.

  Emma wondered whether she had the strength to go through it all again. She had thought the difficult times were behind them, but as always, they were at the mercy of forces they could not control.

  Michael woke in the morning, thirsty, hungry and cold. He could barely stand. When he saw something moving in the landscape, he thought he was hallucinating.

  It was travelling too fast to be an animal. As it came nearer, he made out a pod, like the one that had carried him here. What was it doing out here?

  He waved frantically before wondering whether he was simply condemning himself to a worse kind of death. But as the pod came nearer, he saw with relief, that it was full of his friends. Strong arms helped him into the trailer and gave him water to drink. He was weak and could barely speak.

  The pod turned towards the dome. “What were you doing out here?” Susan asked. He shook his head. His throat felt as if it had been scrubbed with a piece of sandpaper.

  Back at the dome, they laid him on a bed and let him rest. He could hear them out in the courtyard talking.

  “The way these houses curve around the courtyard reminds me of Bath where I used to live,” Christine said.

  “I’d like a bath, a lovely soak in a bath full of bubbles,” Emma said.

  “With all these ponds and fountains around, you could start a fish farm,” Richard said. “Derek, you know all about fish.”

  “We could start it off with some of the fish from the lake.”

  “We’ll have to ask Hagan,” Gerald said.

  “Does everything have to go through him?” Janice asked and wondered at the slightly anxious look that went between the others.

  “I’m afraid it does,” Gerald said, without further explanation.

  Michael slept. When he woke, they had laid out food the flat stones surrounding the fountains but he felt too ill to eat.

  “How long are you here?” he croaked.

  “I don’t know, Hagan didn’t say. I suppose we go back when the pod appears.”

  The next day, Michael was no better. Red blisters and sores had developed on his arms. The plants had begun to wilt too.

  “We’ve got to take him back with us,” Susan said.

  Nobody said anything. Hagan had made it clear that he was not to go back.

  When the pod appeared in the afternoon, they decided Michael was so ill, they had to risk Hagan’s anger and take him with them.

  They packed the bottom of the trailer with leaves to make a soft bed then carried Michael out of the dome and laid him in the trailer. When they were all on board, the pod moved off.

  Hagan was waiting for them as the pod drew up at the cottages. As soon as it stopped, Gerald jumped out and said, “I know you said he was never to come here again but we couldn’t leave him, he’s too ill. As soon as he’s better, we’ll make sure he goes home.”

  Hagan’s priority was to find a solution to the dying plants fast, before the Earth was reduced to a barren state again. He would experiment on the Primitive.

  “You may come to the laboratory,” he told June.

  He found her presence disturbing. A lock of her hair had escaped from the piece of string which held it back, and curled onto her cheek. His hand began to twitch, as if it would push the hair back or undo the string so that her hair could swing loose like it did when he had first seen her.

  From the start, he had been fascinated by her hair, so different from his own, a symbol of health and vitality.

  Unknown to her, Hagan’s arms had developed a rash and sores had appeared
on his face. It was taking all his energy to produce an image of how he usually looked so that she would not guess.

  The blood had drained from June’s face. “Tests on Michael’s blood show that he has been subjected to a very high dose of radiation. The only possible source was that ship we saw.”

  His own tests had shown this to be true. “Do you know the cure?”

  “First, destroy the clothes.” Her voice was faint and her energy was depleted.

  “Then Potassium iodide, Prussian blue, Diethylenetriamine pentaacetic acid.”

  “I do not know Prussian blue. What is the formula?”

  “C18Fe7N18.”

  “We must prepare a solution.”

  June was exhausted. It seemed a long trek back to her home. As she passed one of the cottages, she heard a low moan. Inside, she found Christine slumped in a chair holding Shapsu’s limp body in her arms. Pete was curled up on the floor, sweating profusely.

  Using the last of her strength, she forced herself into the kitchen, poured a jug of water and placed it on the table with two cups before crawling back to her own place.

  Richard was lying on the bed, breathing heavily. “Not well,” he croaked. “Others too. All ill.” He lay back, exhausted from his speech. June could do nothing to help.

  She lay down next to him and sank into a restless sleep.

  She was woken by a faint scream from next door. Richard lay beside her, tossing and turning and mumbling incoherently.

  She hauled herself up slowly, swung her legs out of bed and waited for the wave of nausea to pass. Sinking to the floor, she crawled out of the bedroom and out into the night. Afterwards, she was not sure how she had found the strength.

  The cool air revived her slightly. She was too sick to notice that the ground was cushioned with a bed of black leaves and where there had been plants, there were now only bare stalks. A ladybird with one wing landed rather drunkenly on her hand.

  She crawled into Christine’s cottage and lay down on the floor, exhausted by the effort.

  Christine was clutching Shapsu to her breast and moaning, a dull, animal sound. “She’s dead,” she said.

  June closed her eyes. There was nothing she could for Christine, or for any of them. Images appeared – horrific images of burnt bodies, deformed babies. She knew they were hallucinations but she could not bear the sight of them. Make it stop, she called silently.

  Suddenly, the images ceased. Someone was removing her clothes and washing her body but she did not have the strength to stop them. Hands opened her mouth and placed something under her tongue and then everything went blank.

  She sank into a deep, dreamless sleep. When she woke, it was light outside but she had no idea whether she had slept for hours or days. She was lying naked on the floor of Christine’s house. Her skin was smooth, perfect, the sores had disappeared with no trace, as if they were just another illusion.

  Clothes lay beside her, but she was sure she had not been wearing them before she went to sleep. She dress and stood up slowly, but there was no sign of the dizziness that had plagued her before. Christine was still sitting in the chair where she had seen her last, still holding her daughter, rocking backwards and forwards, her eyes glazed. There was no doubting that Shapsu was dead.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” she promised and went to see how the others were. Everyone was talking about how someone had come in the night and healed them.

  “It wasn’t Hagan,” Emma said. “He doesn’t like being near us. He wouldn’t have washed our bodies.

  “I agree,” June said, “but who could it have been? One of Hagan’s family?”

  “No, they don’t even come out of the dome. It wasn’t one of them.”

  “Who, then? There is nobody else.”

  “Didn’t I say something’s going on?” Emma said.

  It was time to bury Shapsu. They congregated in Christine and Pete’s cottage where Christine still sat clutching her daughter. “Come on, old girl,” Pete said, trying to take Shapsu from her. She and shook her head and held more tightly onto her.

  Christine wept silently, letting the tears stream down her face. Emma sat at her feet and put her arms around both of them. Gerald moved towards them, but Richard held him back. “Let the women do it,” he said, and Gerald saw that he was right. Women were so much better at dealing with death than he could ever be.

  Emma said gently, “Let me take Shapsu.” Christine shook her head again. Emma talked gently to her about her own lost baby. They cried together until Emma let go of Shapsu and put her into Emma’s arms.

  Emma closed the girl’s glazed, unseeing eyes and placed her on the table. Richard had brought a candle which he placed at Shapsu’s head.

  “Where’s Michael and Susan?” Gerald said. “Has anyone seen them? They should be here too.”

  Emma, Christine and June prepared the body while Richard and Gerald went outside to dig the grave and Pete made a coffin.

  “There’s no flowers for her grave,” Christine wept. “They’re all dead too.”

  “I’ll make sure she has flowers,” Pete said, thinking of designs for a wooden headstone that he would carve with cornflowers and poppies.

  Gerald and Richard finished the grave and went to see Michael and Susan. Susan came to the door, face was wracked with pain.

  “I’ve lost my baby,” she said, her eyes glazing over.

  “Is Michael all right?”

  “He’s gone to bury him in the woods.”

  “Shapsu died in the night. We’re going to bury her. Will you come?”

  The two grieving mothers stood together, holding on to each other. Gerald said a few simple words and finished with the poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye that Margaret’s sister had spoken at the service.

  I am a thousand winds that blow

  I am the diamond glints on snow

  I am the sun on ripened grain

  I am the gentle autumn rain

  As they walked back to the cottage, a gentle breeze brushed their faces, as if Shapsu was saying goodbye.

  After the funeral, they walked out to the farm to see how far the destruction had spread. Already, tiny shoots were sprouting from the base of the blackened charred plants but all the chickens were dead, along with one of the cows and a new-born calf.

  “This is a mystery. I was certain the crops were completely dead, but they are growing again already,” June said.

  “What was the sickness?” Gerald asked.

  “Radiation sickness.”

  “I think Hagan has some explaining to do,” Christine said.

  “I can’t contact him. I’ll have to wait until he contacts me.”

  “It’s Hagan’s fault, it’s got to be,” Emma said bitterly. She thought she was pregnant again and was distraught at the thought of what might have happened to her unborn baby.

  Pete said, “That man needs to get over here pronto, we need answers.” His face was flushed, his voice gritty. It was the first time they had seen him angry.

  It was June who saw Hagan first at the door of the cottage.

  “I wish he’d stop doing that, appearing all of a sudden,” Pete said. “He gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

  “The source of the problem has been isolated,” Hagan said.

  Gerald restrained Richard as he moved towards him. “How can you be sure? This is too important. We need to know what’s gone on.”

  “That need not concern you.”

  “I don’t think you realise the importance of what’s happened. This destroyed all our work. We’ve got very little to eat.”

  “Over the past year, you have grown more food than you need. I have stored the excess food and this will be made available to you.”

  June opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment, they heard shouting. “Let me at him.”

  Michael shot out of the cottage with Susan grabbing on to his sleeve, but he was too strong for her.

  Hagan had retreated back to the dome.

  “Coward!
” Michael spat, pulling himself free and striding off towards the dome.

  “He doesn’t want to do that,” Pete said, trying to grab him as he went past. Michael dodged out of the way and continued to the dome but when he was a few feet away, he came to an abrupt halt. Taking a few steps back, he ran as fast as he could at the dome, but once again, he was stopped by an invisible barrier. When they reached him, he was thumping at the air.

  “You’ve got yourself all worked up,” Pete said. Michael pushed him away. “Don’t touch me!” he yelled. “It was Gerald, wasn’t it? What did he do?”

  Gerald’s blood ran cold. After months of peace, it was starting up again, the shouting, the arguments. He fleetingly wished he’d left Michael where he was to die. The man had always been volatile.

  “You were always cosying up to that Hagan,” Michael roared.

  Gerald did not want a fight. He turned to walk back to the cottage. Too late, he realised his mistake as Michael attacked him from the rear, pulling him down to the ground.

  “What are you doing, mate?” Pete said. “He’s one of us. You’re not thinking straight.”

  Michael kicked Gerald and was about to start on Pete when Susan dodged in front of him. “Stop, Michael, please,” she cried.

  “There’s a barrier that goes all the way round,” June said. “You can’t blame Gerald.”

  “I told you,” Michael said. “I told you what he was like but you didn’t listen. “Don’t you know that man is trying to destroy you?”

  “You’re not making sense,” Pete said. “Until this sickness, things were so much better, the best since we came out of that vault.”

  Michael waved his arms. “You all did nothing before. Stop being so stupid and do something about that dictator before it’s too late.”

  The group glanced at each other nervously. Emma clung to Gerald. Christine looked down at the ground. Pete said, “No need to talk to us like that.”

  “I agree,” said Richard, “But I think he’s got a point. We need to run our own affairs and for as long as I’ve been here, that’s not happened.”

  “What do you suggest we do?” Gerald asked. “Everything we need is kept in the vault. We cannot get in there and anyway everything is kept under lock and key.” He made no attempt to explain Hagan’s security methods – like that time thousands of tsetse flies had appeared in the corridor to keep him away.