“Gunny and Benjamin are waiting at the rear exit, as you ordered. We can go in now.”
They advanced towards the entrance. There was no sound. They waited inside a spacious foyer until their eyes got used to the dimmed light. Then they went to the underground level where Jonah told them they would find the dead Pongos. And there they were, dead in their bunks.
Gunny and Ben joined Presley and the others.
“Four of you go and survey the building, floor by floor. Take both staircases, two on each side. See to it that nothing is left unchecked.”
They left. Presley examined the bodies of the dead hybrids. They actually didn’t look quite dead, but rather asleep. There was no smell of decaying flesh, but they didn’t appear to be breathing either. And they were stone cold.
“Paul, put your suppressor on and shoot each of them in the head,” he ordered the man who stayed with him. “I do not want any surprises.” The soldier shot the first one with no hesitation. Then he fired at the rest of them. There was no mercy for Pongos for they gave none; they were savage beasts without a hint of empathy. There were twenty of them in total, spread around in three underground rooms. No blood poured from their gun wounds.
“So, they are dead all right,” said the man, when they met again in the main lodge.
“Yeah, but why.”
“Maybe they really met their “best before” day as that man said. Elapsed and expired.”
“Nah—there must be something else. Maybe they were poisoned and left to die. Or they were sick with something very bad. We’ll never know, I guess.”
“What are we going to do with them?”
“What do you mean? Let them rot. You want to give them an honoured funeral?”
“No sir. I mean; they will contaminate the place.”
“Well, do we need to be concerned with it? It doesn’t look like anyone will be using this building any time soon. Besides, it’s too cold for the worms.”
“I guess you are right, chief.”
An hour later, the four men joined Presley and his companion in the lobby, confirming that nobody else, dead or alive was in the building. The only other bodies they found were those of Jonah’s companions, lying dead in the laundry. Parts of their bodies were dismembered and they knew that it meant only one thing—the Pongos were feeding on them. Presley heard of this but never had a chance to find human remains in any of the Pongo dwellings. Probably for the better, nonetheless.
He ordered his men to collect the bodies and burn them behind the building. He did not want anyone else to see the state in which they were left, and advised his men not to talk about it to anyone, especially the five new members of their group. He reasoned that anyone who survived such captivity experienced enough heartache and horror, and should be spared this knowledge. He hoped they did not already know.
“Let’s go around and collect whatever might be useful; food, bottled water, weapons, ammunition, tools, clothes, you know: the usual.”
Presley then decided to go upstairs, to the top floor. The building was much taller than the one they were occupying, some fifteen stories high, so he wanted to see what the vista might reveal. It took him a while to reach the top and he was quite winded when he finally reached the roof.
He climbed up the last staircase that led towards a door to the rooftop. It was unlocked. He came to the parapet on the western side of the building. As far as his gaze could reach he saw nothing but ruins of a once immense city. Except for an occasional bird cutting through the sky, there was no sign of movement or life anywhere; the city spreading to the west was seemingly deserted and dead. He knew that this was just an illusion for there must be more enclaves like theirs, all around the metropolis, but probably farther away. It was, after all, a city that once was inhabited by ten million people. During daylight everyone was taking cover. And the Pongos, he thought, where were they? They were not afraid of the daylight. They regarded the city as their domain, making rounds during the day, and if they found something of interest they waited for dusk to make their move. But he could not detect any movement anywhere. Everything was still and quiet, so still that he felt an unpleasant shiver down his spine. And then it occurred to him: We have to leave here soon! The sooner the better… There is nothing left here for us. The longer we stay, the greater our chances for failure and death.
He noticed black clouds rolling over from the northwest, thick and low. They were growing progressively bigger and he realized a storm was coming. A super–storm. He could already feel a freezing chill from the wind picking up strength and he could see how black nothingness began to swallow the horizon.
He went back to his men in a hurry. They were waiting for him in the lobby. In the middle of the room was a pile of bounty they collected. Canned food and bottled water, rifles, ammunition and grenades, uniforms and whatever else useful they could find.
“We better get going. A storm is approaching fast. C’mon, pick up what you can carry and let’s get the hell out of here.”
They hid what they couldn’t take under the staircase and ran across the square. They barely made it before the storm. The guard closed the gate behind them and they all ran to the small room underneath the stairs where others were already tightly stacked against one another, for that was the only efficient way to preserve warmth while the super–storm passed. No one stayed behind to keep watch, as there was no danger of any intrusion during the blizzard carried by the hurricane.
The wind got stronger and stronger by each minute, roaring and wailing across the city. Pieces of debris hit the walls like projectiles with tremendous speed. The noise was deafening, and the cold was unbearable. It lasted a mere half an hour. Then the super–storm resided to a whiteout. It came and went, leaving utmost silence. If it was not for the thick walls made of brick and concrete, they all surely would have died. This was why for so long, Presley opted to stay in the city—out in the open, nothing could save them from the element and flying debris.
They relit the fires, trying to recuperate from the cold, drinking tea. Presley and his five companions proceeded to assort the new spoils, while the other members continued their business and duties as usual.
“You were right,” Presley said to Jonah later, when they were all gathered in the heated make-shift mess hall. “They really did look like they terminated. It’s curious, though. What might have caused it?”
A young woman, whom arrived the night before with Jonah’s group, served them tea in tin cups. Her appearance caught his attention just for a moment. But, then his mind turned to the constant nagging thought that they should leave the city. He learned long ago to trust his instincts.
“Listen up, everybody; I reckon that the time has come for us to move on, if not today or tomorrow, then very soon. There’s nothing much left for us here, and we should take our chances, while we still have enough food and supplies to sustain us.”
A muttered hush went through the crowd. It took them a while to process Presley’s words and to grasp their significance. Nobody, it seemed, liked the idea of leaving this shelter, that had thick walls they could defend, enough room for each member to live comfortably, and most importantly, a wealthy supply of water, food and wood to burn, to keep them healthy and warm for a long time.
“Where would we go?” one man asked.
“South.” Presley stated bluntly.
“South!” many exclaimed in unison.
“What’s wrong with the South?” Presley replied.
“Nothing, except there’s a big lake due south. You can see it through the window.”
“Yeah, and it’s frozen,” Presley replied.
“Meaning,” asked Malcolm.
“Meaning we can cross it on foot,” Presley said.
“Why, all of a sudden, do you think we should leave the city?”
“There is nothing left for us here. We have to think about it and decide. Now that there are no hybrids in this part of the city, someone else will soon come to take their pla
ce and fill the void. And as strange as it may sound, the Pongos were our assurance that no one else would come. Before, we had the comfort or, at least, an ease of mind, at having only one adversary. Now that they are gone, who knows who else would come and threaten to separate us from our shelter and possessions? And I am getting tired of this. I want to find a place where no one will compete with us for anything, some place we can call ours and live peacefully.”
“It could be the same everywhere else. What makes you think that down south we would find peace?”
“Well, I don’t know. For one, it could be warmer. The daylight might be brighter, there may be some live vegetation and animals to hunt, and hypothetically, it could be easier to survive. We will talk more about it, but I am certain that this is what we should do, and that now is the right time to do it. Think about it, and in a couple of days we will talk again.”
No one tried to object to his argument further. Presley was not sure about all this himself. He relied on his instincts, and his instincts were telling him they had to be cautious, now more than ever. Every new development on the ground presented a burden of unknown danger. While he talked, he noticed a change of mannerism and expression on Professor’s face, and after a while, once everyone dispersed, Professor Tagore approached him.
“Care for a game?”
“What, that Jonah fella is not as good as he claimed?”
“Actually, he is very good. But we need to talk.” Professor said in a hushed voice.
“Ok let’s…” Said Presley, puzzled by Tagore’s sudden seriousness
Chapter II
Professor took Presley under the arm and led him to the far end of the room, where nobody could hear them. He invited him to sit down in a worn lazy chair, and sat directly across him. He was silent for a while, looking at his hands, as if he had a hard time collecting his thoughts. Presley waited patiently, drinking his tea. The tea was unusually good and oddly, it reminded him of that new woman who had served it.
He caught himself looking for her around the room. He couldn’t find her for some time and, then, he spotted her in the far corner sitting and talking with the other women. It surprised him how quick the new arrivals blended in with the rest of his band, as if they were old acquaintances reunited once more after a brief parting. He could see her face in a light of several petroleum lamps. He found her features pleasing and quite attractive. She glanced toward him and he quickly averted his gaze. He just hoped he did not blush, suddenly embarrassed. Meanwhile, Professor was spreading figures across the chessboard, but had no interest in making a move. The aimless rattle of pieces finally annoyed Presley.
“Well?”
“You said you would want to go south?”
“Yeah.”
“Where exactly would you go?”
“Well, I didn’t think of any place in particular. The main thing is to get out from the city. I just thought that closer to the ocean would be warmer, easier to survive… Why does it matter, anyway?"
“It’s a long journey…”
“I know.”
“There are many, many cities on the way down and that means we would certainly meet others, undoubtedly some hostile people on the way.”
“I think we can deal with it. We will go through the countryside, whenever it’s possible. There is no reason to hurry. We will move cautiously as always. When we find good shelter we will stop, get rest, scout the area on route and determine our next move. The main thing, as I see it, is to leave the city. And if we are to leave, why not head south? It seems to be the most obvious and rational option. After all, I really hope it is warmer down there.”
“Would it surprise you if I agreed? That we should—that we must go south, as far south as we can—and as you said, as soon as we can!”
“Okay?” Presley said looking at Professor quizzically.
“Yes, yes, yes… as far south as we possibly can.”
“…I am thinking straight down, to the shores of the ocean…” Presley mused.
“Even farther than that,” Professor continued.
“Farther where?” Presley asked.
“To the southernmost tip of the Long Point,” stated Professor.
“Long Point!” shouted Presley, but then repeated himself in a lower tone, as Professor hushed him to be more discreet. “Why so far?”
“It will be warmer down there, you said it yourself,” declared Professor.
“But it will take us who knows how long to get there. Yeah, it would probably be much, much warmer all the way down there, but it’s too damn far! Three times farther!”
“Nevertheless, we should go there. And, if we get lucky to find a large ship in good condition…”
“A ship! What the hell would we need a ship for?” cried Presley.
“So we can reach Sugarcane Isles!”
“ Sugarcane Isles…”
“Yeah, or some other big island…”
“But why?”
“Because, we would be safe there.”
“What do you mean?”
“There is nobody left there.”
“What have you been smoking this morning, Professor? How can you be so sure?”
“I participated somewhat, and witnessed much, of what went on in the World in this last ten years.”
“Participated in what? Witnessed what?”
Professor sighed.
“Humanity has an obstinate ability to solve its problems by creating another. For thousands of years we did nothing but make wars, each time we couldn’t disentangle our shortcomings, often times by use of more and more lies and deception. Our history is a perpetual spiral, formed of short periods of harmonious existence and long decades of chaos and struggle. It is called progress. Until we reached the point where we couldn’t possibly go any further. Half a century ago, we finally crossed the line of no return and, in consequence, doomed humankind to chaos and decline. There were simply too many of us. Or so it seemed. So carelessly, we turn everything around us to waste. We outspent all resources our planet could supply, destroying nature, and never gave it a chance to replenish itself. We are the only living species that continually take and never give back, and dangerously, the only species with the ability to alter the face of mother Earth. We have disturbed the equilibrium for much too long. And have finally arrived to the point of no return. Ten years ago, just after The Last War, when, as a consequence, the World Government was established, Georgyanis Ammabussa got elected to be its first Chancellor. Oh, how popular he was. Almost worshiped! The whole World adored him; his neighborly–looking face on every television screen, his enchanting voice from every loudspeaker, his warm and candid smile on every poster and billboard… Even during the War, he was able to go into the midst of a war–torn region and turn archenemies into brothers; like an incarnation of an angel of peace. It was a brief time of hope. The war was over. Ammabussa gave us a reason to believe peace and prosperity might be within reach. For a short while it seemed as humanity got to its senses. I became a member of the World Science Committee. Oh, how honored and humbled I was. And how truly I believed we could make a difference. Our multidisciplinary team’s only task was to propose feasible solutions to the World’s number one problem… overpopulation. Even though the War took more than half a billion lives, pollution and exhaustion of renewable sources was bringing all of humanity to anarchy and slow death by starvation. We recommended immediate measures and proposed a thirty year plan, based on strict and fair quotas that should be universal and mandatory for all. Voluntary sterilization after a first-born child was the most important aspect of our program, in combination with the new methods of food production and distribution that could sustain thirteen billion people. We tried to create a fair model based on several key factors, including a new educational system, in an attempt to create a new conscience. Ammabussa was an avid supporter of the program, urging leaders to accept and adapt to this new reality, even undertaking a vasectomy himself. In the beginning, the program yielded so
me results but, soon after, it failed gloriously. Some political and religious leaders and many free thinkers didn’t approve, claiming those measures were too severe and openly pushed back. While he was still overwhelmingly popular, Ammabussa claimed his legal right to defend the interest of all and succeeded in convincing the General Assembly to submit him with all the executive power, giving him a mandate to implement an austerity measures as he see fit. He, for unknown reasons, decided to act subversively, creating pockets of crisis in underdeveloped parts of the World, turning different ethnic groups one against the other, all the while preaching peace and tolerance. Aversion spread. The Last War continued; minority groups were first to be attacked and slaughtered by their neighbors, and then existing allies began to turn against each other. In a deceitful attempt to restore some semblance of order, the Government appointed local strongmen to govern segments of populous in these unfortunate parts of the world. For a while, the local authorities were left to do whatever they wanted. Accountable to no one, they ruled with terror and used extortion and violence to preserve their positions of power. Eventually, Ammabussa’s Regime stepped in, accusing the very same heads he appointed of tyranny and crimes against humanity, and ordered that they be brought to ‘justice’ and persecuted by the ‘supreme court’. Violence spread further and faster, while the Government pretended to be a steward of peace, sending peacekeeping forces to stop the fighting, which only caused more death and destruction. In the end, the stage for massive depopulation by annihilation was set in motion; old animosities, and the ethnically, racially and religiously induced violence, served its purpose as numbers started to dwindle. Hordes of skinheads, neo–Nazis, anarchists, religious fanatics or simple provocateurs, secretly supported and recruited by Ammabussa’s secret police, and seemingly motivated by xenophobia, religious and racial hatred, created havoc and horror. Many died in these raids. Ammabussa turned a blind eye at first, and then, finally, sent in the army. Everybody was deemed a terrorist, or rebel, or anarchist. Joined armed forces were deployed in peacekeeping missions, and then again in peace–making and policing campaigns. After that, the Government reached the point when it began to feel it didn’t need to hide any more. Ammabussa proclaimed a dictatorship. He simply decided to resolve all the problems by mass killings. When more and more soldiers started to refuse to continue with the senseless slaughter and defect, the Government brought in the hybrids; created in hidden laboratories. The Pongos; genetically modified, subhuman creatures, without any sense of conscience or remorse, or racial and ethnic preference. It was an undercover project, financed by the elite for the times when the Government faced overall resistance; and they anticipated they would probably, in the final struggle, need a reliable means of enforcement. Pongos proved to be merciless and effective. The destruction was overwhelming, yet even that did not give the results the Government was aiming for. It turned out to be no easy task to exterminate the human race. In the last stage, they poisoned the world with the White Plague. Those who did not get a vaccine—and only the chosen few were vaccinated—died in multitudes. It was a couple years ago, that they almost reached their goal.”
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