Evolution (8 page)
Authors: Cody Toye
Granny Mae watches her expressions and becomes solemn. In a sweet yet bold voice she tries to help in the only way she ever knew how.
“Don’t you dare cry now dear. I know that look, and I reckon I should give you the same advice my Ma gave me a long time ago. Don’t cry over men. They are nothing more than a cow pie in a field full of over fed cattle. Where there is one, there is bound to be more and with every step you make they will be there filling your life with crap.”
Alex couldn’t help but like this woman! A small giggle escaped her as she looked up at Granny Mae.
“Did she really say that Granny Mae?” she snickered
“Well no, what she said is unfitting of a woman your age.”
Now a full rumble of laughter came from the mousey teen and she felt tears falling for a very different reason. After a very welcomed moment, the room falls silent once more. She looks over and sees Boomer snoring away. The poor guy needs his rest. She thinks to herself as she slides the throw pillow under his head.
“Granny Mae...can I ask you something?”
The old woman remained silent. Alex stared at the grooves between the wrinkles uncomfortably, waiting for her reply.
“I reckon you already did child” came a sharp retort.
“What is it?”
Alex shifted nervously; she was rough around the edges, both as sharp as an axe and as gentle as cotton. A tough woman to read.
“Out with it!” She coldly stated.
“I-I want to know how you managed to survived out here all alone.” Alex stammered
“You mean how does an old fart like me make it when others didn’t?” She arches her eyebrows
“N-no that’s not what I meant I didn’t mean to call you...”
Granny Mae lifts her hand to silence her; a half snicker comes from her wrinkled lips.
“It’s quite alright dear.”
“I reckon I am too damn stubborn and mean to die. I survived three house fires, four divorces, was widowed twice, I made it through the fifties as a strong independent minded female, and I watched the world get brain washed by technology. Surviving a bunch of plants ain’t nothing.”
The chair squeaked as the foot rest was folded neatly into the recliner. Granny Mae sat upright and gave a wondrously bizarre grin. Alex watched with curiosity as the old lady scooted gracefully across the carpeted floor and lifts the shotgun to her arm.
“I haven’t shot this thing in ages. Been meaning too but ain’t had a reason till now”
A new twinkle filled her pupil, excitement that she hasn’t felt in ages radiates through the woman and her hands tremble slightly as she points the barrel at the door. She holds it steady and places her finger on the cold metal trigger, relishing the feel.
“I can tell you lost something back there child, something very dear to you.”
Alex tried to speak, but was cut off by a sharp edge to the woman’s voice.
“Now don’t you go thinking I’m a weak old lady now, I will be back. My Ma once told me that you ain’t got a lick of sense if you let a man save you. If you go through life letting people save you, you will never have the strength to save yourself. Now I don’t know if I agree with all that, because Ma was half a bubble out of plumb, but as crazy as that old biddy was I rejoice in her wisdom.”
Completely lost for words, Alex watched in astonishment as the door slammed shut. Her thoughts rattled around like a pebble in a tin can. She don’t know who or what she’s looking for! She don’t know where Trevor is, she don’t know which direction to go or what she is up against. She is crazy!
A smile crosses her face and she feels her body slump against the comfort of the couch. Even though she can’t explain it and as insane as it is for an eighty year old woman to slowly venture out into the wild, Alex believed her. She will be back.
*~*~*
The first bite was mental. Pure and simple. The sheer thought of the heinous act reflected on his taste buds and his stomach held picket signs. Jedd swallowed hard and doubled over fighting his gag reflex. The meat slid down his throat and splashed in his empty stomach. After two more bites, he greedily worked the arm into slender portions, grinding it with his teeth and swallowing with ease.
The instinct to fulfill his basic needs took over. A calm satisfaction washed over him as the pings of hunger subsided. After twenty grueling minutes, Jedd felt something he hasn’t felt in a very long time. He was full. His stomach was extended and his hunger gone, life was almost worth living once again. He flung the casserole dish across the room and paused long enough to breathe.
His eyes darted towards the door instinctively and he postured himself defensively ready for a battle. To no avail. Silence. Feeling brave, he slowly stepped around the bodies and listened to the nasty crunch from day old blood as he crept toward the doorway. His shoulder touched the frame and he leaned his weight against it. A ninja. A robber. A cowboy dodging bullets from the fifth sheriff attempting to take down his posse.
Inhaling deeply, Jedd slowly peeked out, lingering long enough to glimpse the edge of the hallway. Motionless corpses and bloodstained walls were all that lay down the path of wreckage. He replayed the events from the past week in his mind, from his exile in the sleeping quarters to the poor soul he just consumed. He had survived. Him and only him.
He waited for what seemed like an eternity and inhaled and exhaled, feeling his lungs strain to accommodate the intrusion of air. Once again he poked his head around the corner. He casually glanced down both sides of the doorway, allowing his head to fall in full view of any living creature in the vicinity. He closed his eyes and stepped out in the hallway, his knees weak and his chest pounding he stood in pure shock as he seen the extent of bloodshed caused by the invasion.
Cautiously, Jedd slowly slide his hand back to his boot, unsheathing his blade. His fingers curled around the handle and his knuckles whitened as he clung to it for dear life.
“HELLO?”
He waited with fear breathing softly on the back of his neck. What if I’m wrong and they are simply unaware? What if I just woke them? He felt his throat go dry at the thought. He closed his eyes and tested the waters of uncertainty once more.
“H-HELLO! HELLO CREATURES?” He stammered.
Jedd felt the blood drain from his face as his voice echoed through the hallway and complete silence followed. He felt lost in a sea of nothingness, his life and his cause stripped from him in a single moment. What do you do when you actually win? When you stand the victor and the only soul left in a hellish environment?
His knife still at his side, he strolled down the corridor, making his way through the vast tunnels and gathering what he can from the bodies. He noticed many dead pod creatures laying next to the soldiers in battle. The red and green backsplash of carnage mixed perfectly and the horror of reality was written on the expressions of the damned.
For the first time, he allowed himself a lingering gaze upon the faces of the horrid creatures. Sympathy tried to rise, but was soon crushed by the image of his own suffering. War. The word no one chose to describe the worldwide phenomenon. The arrogance of the human race was infinite.
He looks at the casualties and purpose of both sides. He sees creatures and humans alike both fighting for the exact same thing. A right to live. He let his thoughts take over as he worked his way towards the exit of the caverns. A new understanding of the situation preserved forever in his memory.
We assumed they attacked us. Did they assume we did the same? Did they take it as an act of genocide when we starting cutting down trees, paving the ground, and selling land? Can plants have thoughts and feelings? Of course they can! They can obviously feel pain and hunger, they can adapt to survive and hunt for food.
The sunlight greeted him with a warm embrace, licking his cheek and blinding his eyes. As Jedd strolled out of his prison to embrace freedom, his celebration was cut short by a new found realization. One that sucks the very hope and purpose out of a man’s soul. We are the enemy.
He slides the knife back into his boot and leans against the entrance of his prior prison. A small giggle of madness escapes his lips. In the distance he can hear the many distinct sounds of nature’s fury waiting patiently to release its wrath on the first human it can. Baboons, Podradiles, and what sounds to be a bigger and meaner unknown foe pollutes the air with sounds of anger and chaos. Jedd answers with three little words, made big enough and loud enough for Mother Nature to hear.
“WE DESERVE THIS!”
*~*~*
She couldn’t help herself. It was as if time itself forgot to claim Granny Mae. She walked back and forth looking at photos that decorated the wall. Her fingers touched the cool rotary phone and her feet carried her deeper into the dwelling. Alex saw so many marvelous things from a time when life seemed simple.
Through the yellowing, she could see a newspaper article from the sixties; the caption proclaimed several women’s rights activists were chained to the hand railing on the steps of city hall in Sacramento, California. There she was, Alex looked upon the old black and white picture, studying it, trying to catch a glimpse of the past. She looked upon the faces of the women, a sea of nameless faceless women. All except one. Leading the group with bullhorn in hand and the key around her neck was a younger meaner Granny Mae. Her face was twisted into a serious scowl and the riot squad frozen in time was only a few short steps away.
Alex couldn’t contain her smile. The thought of Granny Mae taking on City Hall. I bet they had no clue what they were up against. She could picture the police moving in, only to be flogged by a mob of angry women, tearing them down and holding tight to their principles. Next would come the military, armed with every crowd controlling weapon in their arsenal, and fighting women with nothing more than a bullhorn and a severe attitude. The battle would last for a rubber band moment, stretching as long as it could before the situation would snap and one side would become the victor.
Placing the article back in its rightful place among the mess of artifacts, Alex casually looked around the room. Her fingers seemed to extend out and randomly feel anything and everything. They took on a life of their own, craving the sensation of landing on surfaces new and foreign to them.
Next to the large antique bed, just past the chocolate brown comforter, and to the left of the old phonograph was a large wooden bookshelf. Her fingers ran over the paperbacks on the top, analyzing the names for a hidden deeper meaning.
Smut. Until this very moment, that was how Alex truly thought of romance novels. She thought only lonely women who felt weak and felt insecure would dare to read and fantasize a storyline where men were strong and women were damsels in distress. She thought that the only meaning they held was that the reader needed reminding that love does exist, even if only in their mind and only in the neat binding of a paperback.
Granny Mae was a strong independent woman. A true warrior for women’s rights and the only woman she has ever met to be perfectly content without a husband. No. Alex understood on a deeper level now. She looked closer and let her mind wonder. It was the complete opposite as she thought. These particle books were written by women for women. The need to feel love from a man, for whatever reason, was not relevant while reading these paperbacks.
By women for women. A smile crossed her face as she lifted the third one from the left and examined it closer. “ Heart’s Summer” Book three in the Heart’s series. Written by Irene Norwood. The entire shelf of romance novels, were small glimpses into Granny Mae. A piece of her soul, her personality bled onto pages and captured for all of eternity.
Dusting off the cover, she thumbed through the pages, choosing one at random. She did more than read; she ate the words like the very last piece of steak in the entire world. Savory. The words that were written by a woman who dared to truly live her life in a time where life barely seemed livable for women.
“ She refused to allow emotion to surface. Rosemary faced all the indignities with grace and honor, a victim of circumstance and a survivor. She knew her fate was sealed when Charles had his first sip of Brandy. The evidence of the summer of discontent still stung her face. She also knew that by summers end, Charles would be begging for forgiveness.”
Alex reread the passage, trying to decipher a hidden meaning. Was there one? She recalled a brief conversation with Granny Mae and how she so lovingly told her about Herbert. Alex closed her eyes and let the woman’s voice carry like waves towards the shoreline. She could hear her voice and see her posture as she spoke.
“He has a mighty appetite, he reminds me of my late husband Herbert. He always was a big eater. I remember making this exact same meal for him. Of course, I wouldn’t dare butcher the family pet for that man. He wasn’t worth the effort. Awful man.”
Herbert was Charles and it really was a summer of discontent. Granny Mae. A tough old bird. She placed the paperback back on the shelf and slowly walked back towards the living room. Her head filled with visions. On the sofa where the large beefy body of her brother once occupied was an empty spot. Just air.
Panic crept up and a new sense of urgency filled her to the brim. Her feet felt heavy and her legs were unresponsive. Alex started screaming and the room seemed cold. Unfamiliar. His name carried on the air and the house was filled with the hollow echo of fear. Nothing. No sound came as a reply.