Read Hell Follows After (Monster of the Apocalypse Saga) Online
Authors: C. Henry Martens
T
he last of the magnificent leviathans sank to the bottom of the world’s oceans soon after the plagues took humanity to the brink. The songs of the deep… hushed. The largest creatures ever to have lived on earth, recorded at up to one hundred feet long and a hundred ninety tons, died a slow and agonizing death by starvation.
Baleen whales, blue, humpback, and the others, fed on the smallest of creatures drifting in the currents of the vast seas. When the Great Ocean Die-Off rose up to swallow the largest protein source on the planet, the krill, they disappeared from an inability to form chitin exoskeletons. So, too, followed the animals that fed on them.
The many rorqual species of whales possessed a filter to sift small animals from seawater, and as those small animals became fewer, the whales became desperate. Several washed up on beaches with evidence of having choked on silt. They were attempting to find calories in the sludge of river deltas or in deep canyons where mud accumulated.
There was food left in the seawater they filtered. Copepods, small fish, and some squid supplemented the absent tiny crustaceans, but it was impossible to replace four tons, forty million krill, with ancillary protein sources.
The huge beasts were not unfamiliar with famine. Part of their natural cycle of life was feeding as they migrated north and then a cessation of feeding for some months as they headed to their calving grounds. Birthing and raising their offspring in warmer waters, they went for months without eating. The normal cycle was one of tremendous gains in weight and immense weight loss as they nursed growing calves that gained in the hundreds of pounds a day.
But they could not sustain a double whammy. Returning to the north with nursing offspring, they found virtually nothing to eat. The krill had been threatened by the warming oceans previously and had experienced a smaller die-off several years before. This time the level of demise reached extinction levels. The krill died, and the whales followed. The big bulls with the thickest blubber reserves suffered the longest.
Two hundred years after the plagues, the largest animals on the planet were sperm whales. The business of evolution went on with them and their smaller cousins that hunted large prey. It was a question whether mammals would ever become as massive again.
An unusually early weather pattern triggered the Olive Ridley sea turtle to seek the beach of its hatching much earlier than normal. She had met a male from the western pacific in the open ocean, and after a brief encounter had developed a clutch of eggs that needed to be laid in deep sand.
At one time Ridley numbers were listed in the millions, and they were harvested commercially. But just as most things used by humans, numbers plummeted as bad management and greed worked against them. In the middle of the twentieth century, after the Great War, the beaches were lined with turtles turned on their backs by people making money from the products they could supply. By the time the plagues hit humanity, the nesting grounds of the pacific side of Mexico had become bereft of females laying eggs. All of the hundreds of locations were barren except one.
With the sudden departure of man from the landscape, almost all of the animals recognized as threatened with extinction had rebounded. There were exceptions, and the sea turtles were one.
A man and woman had survived the plagues in Acapulco, and they had wandered the beaches of the coast until finding others. The group swelled as children were born and, within the first fifty years after the plagues, had found the one remaining nesting site of the Ridleys in the Playa Escobilla in Oaxaca.
The oldest man in the group remembered and spoke of the necessity to control the harvest of turtles and eggs. After his passing, others of less knowledge and interest in history forgot the stories and did as they wished in the interest of immediate gain. The wondrous animals that had started to rebound declined in a steady trajectory to extinction.
Now, two hundred years later, the last female nesting on the west coast of the Americas cast her shadow in the moonlight. She moved up the beach on her belly, forging ahead in the strange surroundings so alien to her, determined to procreate.
Children, playing on the beach in the evening hours, found her trail and followed it to the laboring reptile. They kicked sand in her face and hit her with sticks before running to their parents and describing what they had found. The parents walked down to the beach and found the big turtle before she had even had the opportunity to begin digging a nest. Regaling in their good fortune at the early find, they flipped the turtle on its back so they could come back the next day and butcher her. The eggs, so precious, would be harvested not from a sandy hole in the ground but directly from the turtle’s womb.
What was left of the great apes rebounded with wonderful results. After the pressures of the bush meat trade were reduced to nothing, the apes lived in a virtual nirvana. They multiplied until their numbers stabilized naturally.
So, too, did many species. The last large cats left in the wild became the top of the food chain once again. Population growth was a result of increased habitat. Territories were suddenly free of high powered weapons and tree-destroying chain saws. They reclaimed lost lands as the forests reclaimed lost acreage, and soon the cities of India, Mexico, Brazil, and the Congo were home to tiger, jaguar, puma and leopard, much like the ancient cities of Cambodia and the Amazon jungles had been reclaimed by the wild in long past centuries.
There were some close calls and some failures.
An aged male Siberian tiger managed to escape a private preserve in a famous Russian’s compound and found a mate before he died of starvation. His was a vital component to the wild population that had been thinned to genetic exhaustion levels.
A pregnant hippo was turned loose by a well-meaning zookeeper in Florida. She had a male offspring and they started a herd in the waters of the everglades. But there were genetic issues, and the last one died within the first hundred years.
Domestic animals filled the needs of the hunting felines as natural prey rebounded. By the time there were enough tapir and red deer, the bovine and equine populations had been thinned to manageable levels. Natural herbivore populations stabilized as domestic livestock became feral or disappeared.
There were oddities in how animals repopulated. Prairie dogs from the northern plains of the United States had become a popular pet in China, and they spread quickly and in great numbers after escaping or being released in Asian fields. Ostrich roamed the plains of Texas and the northern states of Mexico. Similar large flightless birds, rhea occupied the adjoining state of Louisiana and spread east and north into Arkansas and Mississippi. Llamas roamed in small herds from Yellowstone in Wyoming, north into Alberta and Saskatchewan and east to northern Minnesota. The large Llama population of southern California died out due to the predation of dogs as the canids went feral. Then the dogs disappeared for many reasons, mostly disease. Alpaca became native to the lower slopes of the Tetons, competing with the bighorn sheep that had been rehabituated there.
The European starlings that had plagued the North American continent and were spreading through Central America were dealt a lethal blow before man’s self-inflicted decline. A cheap and easy facial recognition system was used by a smart young techie, and the starlings’ demise made room for the cloning and reintroduction of passenger pigeons. They did well after some troubling years and then had a population boom leading to numbers that darkened skies as they had before the age of shotguns.
The large herds of American bison reestablished. The animals were fully capable of pushing through fences that would contain cattle until they starved. The bison gathered into herds and propagated. It was not long before they started to migrate in seasonal patterns. Both the northern and the southern herds moved much as their ancient counterparts had. Transplants in California formed a herd which never established a migration pattern, and they changed suddenly as a genetic anomaly became dominant.
Man had a tough time. There were so few survivors in many places that those who rode out the initial contagion often thought themselves alone in the world. Accidents due to stupidity and depression-induced suicides took more than eighty percent of the remaining survivors. But man cannot fail, even when he should. Those who persisted gathered into tiny enclaves, and when they were not killing each other for little reason, they bred. Breeding led to greater numbers, and greater numbers led to societies and governments and civilization. Religion would surely follow.
Man would live to threaten the planet once more.
The tall buildings of Denver loomed on the horizon south of Boulder. The huge city became dangerous as structures aged. Anticipating the creeping deterioration and the hazards, the three people who decided to inhabit the smaller community north appreciated the homey feel of the little burg. They saved what they could, gathered others with similar ideas, and because of a commitment to planning and effort, the tiny population and the small city of Boulder swelled once more.
There were many wanderers, traders, and lost souls who visited the east slope settlement. Some stayed just long enough to stock up or sell their wares, and then they disappeared with anything of value they had accumulated. Others stayed for extended times. A long stay was usually due to distance and weather. If a trader came all the way from beyond the Mississippi, they would not be traveling back the same summer. The planners made allowances for this, as they encouraged any business they could get.
The bustle of the open market drew the people of Reno and Oregon like a magnet. This was what they had come for and was so much more than they expected. Renoites who had made the trip before were always surprised by something new.
The handcarts were assembled and loaded with goods once again. Trade had begun.
After so much effort on the trail, the Smithy and his apprentice took some time to wander and investigate. Occam’s priorities were readjusting. The loss of his wife had made him introspective and appreciative of life and time. He was no longer in such a hurry. Oxen in need of shoes or wagons in need of crucial repair were given priority but then gave way to relaxed study and introspection. Taking advantage, Edge investigated not just the market but the entire town.
With nothing else to do, Cable and Cy accompanied Edge in his explorations. Cy and Edge had become fast friends on the trail, and the three were comfortable with each other.
One of the responsibilities left open by Arc’s disappearance was the trade in draft animals. In the case of the large bulls, those that had been brought as both drayage and trade goods, there was substantial investment by the Company providing the capital for the expedition. Someone would have to show the animals and act as a sales agent with those interested in buying them.
Now that the duties of Wagon Master had been fulfilled, Till transitioned to the duties of managing the camp and assigning people to tasks in the interest of the Company. He had no confidence in any of the Company hires in regard to handling livestock trade. Looking to those outside of the Company, he studied three, Edge, Jody, and Olivia. Arc’s young widow was considered by Till only because of her association and knowledge from being married to a Master of Oxen. He considered the others for their demonstrated skills. They were all so young, but they were also the most experienced animal handlers and in many ways the most competent.
The two laden pack horses followed Bluehawk’s sorrel stud closely, joining the convoy through town. Some noted that none of the horses were bridled, haltered, or restricted by even a light lead rope. Bluehawk controlled his charges through intense and effective training.
As soon as the wagons halted in the area of their camp, the native man in buckskin leather guided his ponies back into town and toward a home he was familiar with. Leaving the horses in front of the fenced entry, he strode toward the familiar door of a good friend who would be expecting him. The man occupying the attractive dwelling met him on the porch, arms open wide, and bear hugged him. The short man was swarthy with tight, curly hair surrounding a hairless pate and huge shoulders, neck and gut. Tipping the scales at three hundred sixty pounds, Angus Mills contrasted the fit native man who towered over him. Bluehawk was glad to be returned after the long summer months. Now the conversation would become interesting.
The woman of the house appeared at the door, flour dusting her nose, mouse brown hair, and hands. With her, the aroma of fresh bread and pie wafted onto the covered porch to tantalize Bluehawk’s nose and palate. Angus watched with delight as his wife and his best friend embraced. She was taller than her husband by many inches and, though padded nicely, not nearly as heavy.
The next couple of hours were spent pleasantly, both in catching up on personal experiences and in consuming a fresh sour apple pie. Angus was a master in making the fillings, and his wife was a magician in assembling them… and her crust was to die for.
There was business to be done, so with reluctance tempered by the knowledge they would have many pleasant hours in the coming months, Bluehawk gave both of his friends a hug and departed. The next stop would be to the Furriers and Leathermen to acquire cash.
Being fall and not when Furriers normally traded for pelts, Bluehawk was confident he would be welcomed. By summer’s end there was always a shortage of materials to be worked in the shops, and the best shops paid the highest prices for the quality he offered. His sons ran traplines over the winter, and Bluehawk and his wife worked the skins over the summer into a finished product which most trappers did not. The furriers usually bought raw skins and had to work them into leather. After visiting three shops, a substantial, soft leather pouch of local coin made its way into Bluehawk’s saddlebag.
Unburdened, the ponies bucked and cavorted like yearlings on a holiday. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and the stud pranced as he carried his rider. The next stop would be the most difficult for Bluehawk, but it was also home.
The horses were not his. He had an agreement with a horse breeder and picked up green ponies every fall as he turned in the mounts he had trained over the summer. The new horses were his to use until the next fall, to be gentled and trained and turned in on his return. Then the cycle would repeat. The ponies would go to the breeder, even though they had become friends.
In exchange for his valuable work with the horses, Bluehawk received a cabin for the winter, adjacent the breeder’s own home. The arrangement was advantageous for both men.
Approaching with the three animals, Bluehawk noted the paddock next to the barn. He already knew the horse he would be getting as he traded in the sorrel stud. The five year old appaloosa in the paddock would be worked over the winter months so that a saddle and rider would be accepted but not enough to be bulletproof. Bulletproof was what he would be in a year when returned next fall.
The sorrel was a fine animal, as were the two geldings that had carried the packs, but the appy was magnificent. He was the only animal that Bluehawk had ever seen that was marked as he was. A yellow dun color in rich gold, he had streaks of both black and white in his mane and tail and various size spots over his entire body in both black and white. His genetics would find their way into Bluehawk’s tribal herd just as the sorrel’s had. But in the years after, Bluehawk would be hoping for yellow foals with black and white spots.
Bluehawk turned the sorrel and his companions into an adjoining paddock and, without knocking on the rancher’s door, threw his saddle and bags inside his familiar cabin.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in the proximity of the appaloosa. He found a comfortable spot in the small pasture and a workable stick and whittled the rest of the day away. Soon the big animal was investigating Bluehawk with his nose, and as the native changed position casually, the horse followed. The tribesman already knew this animal would be hard to give up.