Desolation

The detritus from previous travelers on both sides of the trail grew higher the closer he came to the gate. It was as if more and more people disposed of their cast-offs before entering this sanctuary. Until now, the layers of debris were not really visible, as the dip off the road was cavernous. Less than one hundred steps to the wall, the piles of debris were almost level in height with the path. He stopped when one of the rejects caught his attention. It was a strange mechanical contraption that reminded him of the transportation devices he had often seen in his travels, used during the Before Times a few generations ago. But this one had three wheels, not four. It appeared to be powered by a human traveler who would ride upon it. Each wheel was covered in small twig-like pieces; he remembered these were called “wires.” Attached to the back was some sort of container with two separate wheels, one on each side. They must have carried their belongings in this, behind them. The container was sticking straight up, bent at an unusual angle, as if it had fallen in or had been pushed off the side of the road. Piles of discarded wreckage surrounded both sides of it, but the container was sticking up and out of the mass. On the back of it was a well-worn but very readable plaque that bore the notation “CARR + MEL.”

Mechanical noises alerted him to the giant gate; they were sounds of movement.

Gord stared at the grand-looking gate, waiting for something to happen, clutching his ax tighter. Just then, he noticed something that felt out of place and odd to him. The wall was smoother than the one he remembered beyond the marker that told him he had found Cicada. Of course, he saw no marker on his approach to this wall. Also unusual was a thick tree trunk that rested against the wall directly to the left of the gate, as if it had been tossed there. Studying it he thought it might have been used in an attempt to scale the wall. Red patches, perhaps dried blood, spoke to its failure. Behind the thick tree trunk, on the wall, was a placard, its letters hidden, almost but not quite readable.

The gate burst open and a bright white luminescence poured out of the opening, as if a white sun actually rested on the other side of that gate. Gord looked up into the sky to make sure the sun was still where it belonged. A man’s silhouette appeared in the brightness, but he couldn’t look at it any more than he could look directly at the bright sun.

Forgetting his anxiety, and remembering the instructions from his father’s father, Stepha, he quickly put down the ax—he didn’t want to be mistaken for one of the people in the town nearby—and pulled from his satchel the book that held so much hope for him and his people. He hoisted it up, held it steady so that the now three silhouettes in the doorway could see it plainly.

He stepped into the bright white light, holding the book higher, and said, “I am Gord and I have brought this.” He closed his eyes and white spots danced on the inside of his lids. Besides the light’s calming warmth he felt peace, sure that he had finally arrived. These people of science would give him answers to his questions, the answers he and his people would need to solve their water problem. I have made it to the sanctuary known as Cicada.

A deep voice came from the light, “You have the book… Please enter.”

He did.

The massive door closed behind him, cutting off the shafts of light, its large interior bolts slid into place. The wall shook slightly from this, its movement dislodging the large tree trunk to the side a few inches. The trunk slid down the wall and crashed into its rocky base.

The placard of bronze, its letters reflecting the afternoon light, read “BIOS 2.”

The following is an excerpt from CICADA (The next book in the Stone Age Series)

BIOS-2

1 Day Before the Event

Senator Brian P. Westerling was up for re-election in six months, but he didn’t care about that; he wasn’t even campaigning. When the world was about to end, why would such trivial things as running for a third term in the US Senate matter? He just received his notification announcing the Cicada Protocol had started. It was to be a giant solar flare that would end it all. This was no surprise to him; after all, he was the one responsible for bringing this chapter of humanity to a close. It was a moment of pride.

Enveloped as he was in the comfort of his supple leather lounge chair, the buzz from a bourbon and ice smoothed out his trivial concerns. He took a drag from his Cohiba Robusto and released white swirling puffs of wispy smoke circles. He smiled at his air-borne creations as they appeared to float out from the lonely confines of his office to the environment he created outside. Ringing beside him drew his attention.

“Sir, everyone is ready,” the voice on his intercom announced.