Extinction 2038

by P. R. Garcia

  “Slight breeze,” Max replied. “Wind waves two feet or less. Blue skies. The storm to the south seems to have ended. I don’t see anything to worry about either on the horizon or radar.”

  “How long to reach each location?” Dr. Q asked as he walked up the stairs to the steering house.

  “Under the present conditions, four hours to the Falklands and a little over five to Argentina.”

  Dr. Q looked out the starboard side. Just as Max had stated, it was a beautiful day on the ocean. “What do you two think?”

  “We don’t need any supplies, and we still have plenty of fuel,” Max began. “The Falklands are a straighter route north, so I say we go there.”

  “I agree,” Gayle said. “Especially since we don’t know what types of humans we might encounter, the Falklands offer us a safer haven. With its small population, we shouldn't encounter anyone. And there should still be boats in the marinas if we want to top off our fuel supply.”

  “The Falklands it is,” Dr. Q announced. He looked at his watch. There were only forty minutes left of his rest period, so he saw no reason to go back to sleep. “Max, if you’d get us heading in the right direction, then join me downstairs. Our turn to fix dinner while Gayle drives.”

  “Will do, Doc,” Max replied. “I thought that perhaps tomorrow I might try my hand at fishing. I saw some equipment downstairs. Some fresh fish would not only taste good after weeks of rations and canned food, but it would probably do our bodies some good. And it will give us an indication of what still lives in our salty oceans.”

  “Do you think anything we catch will be okay to eat?” Gayle asked

  “Any ocean fish is likely to be no more dangerous now that it was before the virus,” Dr. Q answered. “Thanks to mankind, most of the marine life is polluted with chemicals and toxins. I say if the fish looks healthy it should be safe to eat.”

  Max adjusted their course to the Falklands, then went downstairs to the galley as requested. They were about halfway through their preparation when they heard Gayle calling them.

  “What’s up?” Dr. Q asked as he emerged from below.

  “Off to the starboard, I think there’s a carcass floating,” Gayle answered, slowing down the vessel. “Do you want to check it out?”

  “Yes,” Dr. Q stated, straining his eyes to see what Gayle saw. He thought he saw something bobbing up and down, but he wasn’t sure. “Max, you take the controls. You’re the better navigator.”

  Max stepped forward and moved the boat in the direction of the possible body. Within minutes it was confirmed that something large was floating. Possibly a whale of some kind. As they drew nearer, the sea breeze brought the undeniable smell of rotting flesh, causing all three to cover their noses with their shirts.

  “Wow, what a stench,” Max stated. “I forgot how much rotten flesh stinks.”

  “Bring us alongside,” Dr. Q said, watching the object grow larger.

  As they suspected, it was a whale of some kind. It was severely decomposed. So much so that they were surprised it was still floating. Also surprising was the marine life eating it. They counted fifteen nemertean worms greedily eating away at the decaying flesh. More than likely there were two or three times that many hidden inside the carcass. In addition to the worms, crabs were crawling in and out of the openings taking their tidbits. There were even several species of small fish nibbling pieces dropped by the crabs and worms. Although not a significant representation, it was their first physical confirmation that life still existed in the ocean.

  “Max, did you happen to notice a fishing net with that equipment you found?” Dr. Q asked.

  “No, but I’m sure there’s one or two down there,” Max replied.

  “I want a sampling of that life,” Dr. Q stated. “The crabs, fish and in particular the nemertean worms. The worms will give us the best indication of the health of the ocean. As scavengers, they would have been eating everything that has died.”

  Max handed the steering of the boat back over to Gayle, giving her a few instructions on how to keep it stationary. He then ran downstairs and located two nets. On the way back up he grabbed several containers for the specimens. When he returned on top, he noticed that Gayle was having a little trouble keeping the boat from drifting, so he handed her the nets and containers and took over the steering again. Within seconds, he had them back alongside the floating whale carcass.

  “Any idea what kind of whale it is?” Max asked.

  “Hard to tell,” Dr. Q said. “It’s been dead for some time. I’d say by its length it’s probably a blue whale.”

  “Dr. Q, I find it hard to believe this whale has been floating around in the ocean for eight or nine months,” Max commented. “At the most, it might have died three or four weeks ago. Do you think the virus is still actively killing marine life?”

  “A good question,” Dr. Q replied as he dropped a crab into the tall glass he held. “That’s something these critters are going to tell us. I need a chunk of the whale’s flesh also.”

  Gayle stretched out her net and tried to push some hanging blubber into it, but had little luck. “I need a knife or something.”

  “You take the wheel,” Max said. “I’ll get the sample.” He reached beneath the Captain’s seat and withdrew a fish-filleting knife. Once Gayle had the controls, he walked over to the side, stuck the knife into the putrid flesh and sliced off a large chunk. It fell with a thud into the net. “Need more than that?”

  “I think that’s sufficient,” Dr. Q laughed. He looked over the various containers of specimens. The two nemertean worms had already wiggled their way out of the bucket and were slithering across the floor. Max quickly caught them in his net again, this time twisting it close before placing it and the worms back into the bucket of water.

  “Slippery little buggers,” Max chuckled. “Almost as bad as trying to contain an octopus. I’ll get the slides ready while you finish dinner. Then I’ll take over your turn at the wheel so you can study the slides and ascertain if the virus killed this whale or not. Gayle, can you steer us away from the corpse or do you want me to?”

  “I think I got it,” Gayle shouted, giving the vessel a little too much gas as she turned the boat away from the floating smorgasbord. Both Dr. Q and Max quickly reached out for the side of the ship in an attempt to keep from falling. They were successful, but the boat’s action knocked over the container of crabs. Max hurried after them, chasing them down before they could jump overboard. “Sorry,” Gayle said.

  Dr. Q wanted to skip dinner and go right to researching the cause of death and condition of the other marine life, but they had a plan. A plan that they needed to adhere to, no matter what, if they were going to make it all the way up the coast to the United States. “Thanks for the offer, but you need your rest time, and I need to do my share of driving. The results will be the same after our trip to the island.”

  Unable to wait that long to discover what killed the whale, Max prepared blood and tissue samples of the collected specimens as he ate his dinner. His initial exam of the whale showed no signs of the LO virus. The whale had died from something else. When he began to examine the tissue samples, he heard Dr. Q say enough was enough and Max needed to rest. Hating to stop now that he had something new to examine and doubting he’d ever be able to sleep, he laid down on the bed and was soon asleep. To his surprise, he was awakened almost four hours later to learn they were off the coast of Weddell and Beaver Islands, two of the southwestern Falklands.

  “I see what you mean about getting a good rest,” Max commented as he entered the bridge. He could see in the distance the two islands. “Any preference of which island we land at?”

  “I’ll rely on your expertise as our navigator,” Dr. Q replied. Although Max was not a seasoned sailor, he did have more experience with boats than either Dr. Q or Professor Dilbert, which was zero. In his early college days, he had spent two summers on the ocean: one on a tuna boat and another as a census taker of green sea turtles. Thes
e experiences, along with his time volunteering with the Coast Guard, made him the expert amongst the three.

  “It appears there are fewer stranded boats on Beaver Island,” Max commented as he peered through the binoculars at the two islands. “Looks like only two. Appears to be less debris also, but we’ll have to be careful of the kelp beds. Don’t want the motor to get tangled in kelp. If the two ships have fuel, it should be enough to refill our tank. Plus, Beaver Island is privately owned, so we shouldn’t run into any people. If memory serves me right, it’s the breeding site of about forty bird species. It also has a good population of fur seals, foxes and guanacos.”

  “Guanacos?” Gayle asked. “I’m not familiar with those.”

  “They’re the parent species of the domesticated llama,” Max replied. “We probably won’t be able to spot any from the shore. They usually stay up in the hills. You know, Dr. Q, we might want to take the time to do a little exploring. The island will be a good representation of how the virus affected small, isolated islands. Especially the mammals, which we know have been hard hit in other areas. If the seals and guanacos survived, chances are life on other islands are also flourishing.”

  Reaching the United States shoreline as quickly as possible was their major objective, but Dr. Q knew Max had a valid point. They had a unique opportunity to discover how mammalian and bird life were coping, an opportunity that might not present itself again. After all, they were scientists. And any knowledge they could acquire on which species survived, the more they would know on how to combat the virus. He surveyed the horizon before speaking, making sure no storms were coming. “I don’t see why we can’t spend a little time here exploring and recording what life has survived. The kelp bed might even be a good place to try some of that fishing you were talking about. We’d probably have better luck catching fish there than out in the open ocean.”

  As they neared the island, the unmistakable chatter of birds filled the air. Soon, not only were their sounds audible, but they could see the sky was filled with flapping wings. It was early spring, and several species of seabirds had returned to the island to breed and raise their young. On the rocks further north, they hear the unmistakable sound of barking seals. Thankfully, life still continued on the small island.

  With Gayle and Lachlan’s assistance, Max took down the sails and secured them. He felt his seamanship was not good enough to bring the vessel in under wind power. Fuel power would have to do. Switching on the fuel tanks, he turned the key and started the engine. What a beautiful sound, he thought. Skillfully maneuvering his way through the kelp bed and numerous birds floating on the waves, including Gentoo and Magellanic penguins, he glided alongside the first boat. It was half submerged with a large hole in its aft. Any fuel it contained would probably be diluted with salt water, something they did not want. He proceeded to the second boat. It was a larger ship that had become stranded on an outcrop of jagged rocks. It did not appear to be damaged, so it hopefully had fuel to offer.

  Max held their vessel steady while Gayle and Lachlan tied it to the stranded ship. Once secured, Max put the throttle in idle. He debated about shutting off the engine completely, but this was their first landing, and he was a little anxious about who could be on the island. Better to be ready to take off if someone suddenly approached. It was a practice he continued throughout the voyage, a practice which would later save their lives.

  Hopping over the railing, Max gasped in shock when he saw the sight that awaited him. Lying on the deck were four human bodies. The scene before him reminded him of the movie Alien. Their abdomens had exploded from the inside out, but this time it was not an alien responsible. Gas had built up in the dead bodies until it reached the point where the abdomens blew open. The faces were black and leathery, looking as if they had been mummified. Two had their eyes opened, the sight organ shrunken and recessed into the skull. All four were completely clothed. Like the people in the cities, this small crew had tried to outrun the virus and lost.

  “Are you alright?” Dr. Q asked.

  “Just forgot for a moment what we might find,” Max confessed as he composed himself.

  Dr. Q bent over the side and surveyed the horrible scene. The first thing that he noticed were the opened eyes – the fact that they still had eyes. That was usually the first thing the birds pecked out. He surveyed the bodies and found no indication of their flesh being eaten. “Max, check the bodies and see if anything has been eating the flesh.” The doctor looked above at the birds flying. He suddenly realized there were only three or four species represented in the bird mass and none were seagulls, the scavengers who would have fed on the bodies. Had the seagulls died out after eating the dead on nearby islands? Were any seagulls left anywhere?

  “Dr. Q, I don’t see any evidence of predation,” Max said.

  “What about flies?”

  “No flies. No larva. No nothing. Is there anything else you need?”

  “No, that should be sufficient. Go ahead and check on the gas,” Dr. Q stated.

  “Just like in the videos we’ve been watching,” Gayle quietly said to Lachlan, keeping her back to the gruesome scene. “Nothing is eating the bodies of the dead, even way out here. Lachlan, that means that those that did survive the virus are now going to be attacked by every disease imaginable: botulism, salmonella, E. coli and streptococcus, to name a few.”

  “While a horrible thought, I can’t worry about that right now,” Lachlan replied. “Perhaps after I conquer our current beast I can take on these other diseases.” Wishing to change the subject, he shouted out, “Any gas, Max?”

  Max walked onto the bridge and was surprised to see luck was still with them, for the keys were in the ignition. Unfortunately, they were in the “on” position, meaning chances were the motor ran until the fuel was gone. His fear was realized when he tried to start the engine. It was completely dead. And it appeared this boat did not have an extra fuel tank. Perhaps they should have gone to Weddell Island. Thinking maybe the crew would have brought extra fuel with them, he searched the small cargo hold. Nothing. Then he noticed a bench across the back of the boat. Such benches often contained storage space. He lifted the seat and found four five-gallon gas containers. Lifting each one, he discovered the first can was empty, but the other three were full. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something. He passed the containers over to the professors, hopped back over and pushed their boat away. The faster he could get away from the bodies, the better. Up ahead he noticed a small inlet which looked deep enough to allow the boat inside. It was an ideal place to go ashore.

  After anchoring the boat, the three climbed down into the water. It was a little deeper than they anticipated, making it necessary to swim a few feet before their feet could touch the sandy bottom. Their stay in the water turned out to be the easiest part of entering the island, for the beach was covered with penguins and nesting birds. They carefully stepped over nests and around waddling penguins. Occasionally, they felt a bite as some angry bird pecked at their ankles as they walked by. The bird colony continued to grow in magnitude for almost two miles inland, occasionally becoming so thick that they could not proceed. They would have to retrace their steps back and find another way to go ahead. Each scoured the various birds in hopes of finding seagulls or other scavenger seabirds, but none were found. They were surprised, however, to see two foxes running amongst the nests stealing eggs. These were the first foxes they had seen. Gayle made a mental note to add them to her list of surviving species.

  They climbed to the top of a hill and surveyed the land. The coastline was dotted with fur seals, although their number appeared to be significantly reduced. They imagined that before the virus the seal population would have been in the thousands. Today there were less than five hundred. More disturbing still was the fact that they could see no pups. Perhaps the virus had caused the female seals to abort their unborn, a frightening possibility. Needing to know if the guanacos were also affected, they pressed on up the rocky slope. When they
came across a freshwater pond, they stopped to rest, relishing the taste of the fresh water. They had been drinking bottled and recycled water for so long they had almost forgotten what real water tasted like.

  Resting under a nearby tree, they were amazed to hear the sound of a songbird. It was a sound none of them ever thought they’d hear again. "Don’t move,” Gayle suddenly whispered, slowly holding her fingers to her lips. “Look at the pond.” The two males turned to see a small herd of guanacos walking down the slope, heading towards the watering hole. And these mammals had newborns with them. Either because of their physical makeup or their diet, these animals had not lost their unborn.

  Dr. Q wished he could get blood samples of the guanacos and seals, but that would require additional time they did not have. If they wanted to try to catch some fresh fish to eat, they needed to get back to the ship. They were still far enough south that the days were long enough to give them extra time to work, but they needed to continue their journey. It was not safe to remain in one location for too long. As they walked back and carefully navigated through the pecking birds for the second time, each wondered what they would encounter on the islands and shores that laid ahead. Would they find life as they did here or death as on the boat?

  HUMAN ENCOUNTER

  The next scheduled stop was Valdes Peninsula along the east side of Argentina, about halfway up the South American seaboard. Like Beaver Island, it was mostly uninhabited by humans. It was a World Heritage Site, hosting a variety of marine mammals and birds. The peninsula also contained various herds of guanacos and domesticated sheep. Dr. Q was particularly interested in one of its other native residents, the mara; a large rodent which resembled a cross between a jackrabbit, guinea pig and capybara. Although not a scavenger like rats and mice, the maras would give them their first opportunity to see how rodent populations were doing.

  The sound of barking seals and squawking birds filled the air as they neared the peninsula. They could see there was a more diverse population of pinnipeds here, including elephant seals and sea lions. As on Beaver Island, their numbers were drastically reduced. And they, too, had no pups amongst them, nor were there any seagulls. The other missing items were boats. The wind had been against them on their journey from Beaver Island to the Valdes Peninsula, making them use the engine. They had used an entire tank of fuel, so it was imperative that they find some. Max had already switched the tanks to their reserve, and none of them knew how far it would take them. Although the chance to check on the maras was intriguing, they pressed on towards Viedma. It would have marinas and offered a better chance of finding fuel. And right now, fuel was their number one priority. As they sailed along the beach, Lachlan and Gayle wrote down every animal they saw. Neither recorded a mara or a sheep, dead or alive.