Raptor Apocalypse Read online

  “We are live here at—”

  Something flitted past behind her, racing from left to right.

  “Did you see that?” Cheryl asked. Jesse nodded absently.

  The reporter stopped talking and moved sideways. She remained partially in the frame and staring off camera at something. She seemed puzzled by it. Behind her, a white shape went streaking past. Then another. And another. They looked like the blurry forms Jesse had seen earlier.

  The reporter kept moving closer to something.

  Closer still.

  They did look a lot like what Hannah had said, like dinosaurs. But that was impossible.

  The woman’s eyes shot wide in terror. She opened her mouth to scream. It seemed to take a long second before any sound came out. Then it erupted all at once, and she screamed so loudly that her microphone clipped.

  Cheryl flinched and grabbed Jesse. “What are those things? What the hell are they?” Her voice was pleading. She was shaking her head as if her mind was refusing to believe what her eyes were telling it.

  “I dunno,” he replied, watching the reporter stop and take another breath before screaming again. He tucked his arm around Cheryl and pulled her closer.

  Something slammed into the reporter. Cheryl jumped and pulled herself even closer to him. He could feel the bite of her fingernails through his work shirt. If he hadn’t been wearing it, she’d have probably drawn blood.

  The reporter staggered forward. Again, she was struck hard. She collapsed, disappearing from the shot, going silent for a moment. Then from off camera she began shrieking, “Oh God, oh God, no!” And the oversized speakers next to the TV amplified her wailing cries.

  The TV screen went dark. Had they cut it? Had they cut the feed? Mouth opening and closing mechanically, Jesse got stuck between hoping so and hoping not. The image stabilized. They hadn’t cut the feed. The reporter came back into the frame, rolling away from the camera, trying desperately to lift herself to her knees and escape her attackers. White-skinned creatures smothered her, too many to count.

  “Hannah, shut your eyes!” Jesse snapped, keeping his own eyes glued to the TV.

  In seconds, the reporter’s clothing was shredded and falling off. She screamed out another high-pitched shriek and tried to stand, only managing to rise to her knees, her face remaining twisted and strained. She stumbled toward the camera, reaching out with bent fingers for the lens. She got nearer, and the microphone dangling from her hand fell away. The audio signal popped twice and cut off. Soundlessly, she fought to get her feet beneath her while using her arms to protect her face. One of the white-skinned creatures leapt high enough to grab her arm. The thing hung there by its teeth, thrashing. Ribbons of pink flesh tore off, along with the navy blue material of her pantsuit. Skin, muscle, and tendons stretched like red rubber bands, pulling away from her body before finally snapping. The startled creature fell to the ground. Its mouth was full of meat and fabric. In a frenzy of chaotic motion, more creatures pounced on the stolen flesh while still more leapt on the woman and dug at the growing wounds, clawing away at them with three-toed forearms, or biting and tearing at her with their teeth. The reporter’s arms fell limply to her sides as if she’d lost control of them. Her mouth swung open. Stumbling closer to the camera, she dragged the mass of creatures along with her. Her lips began moving. She was trying to say something. It could have been, “Help me,” or maybe “Mama.” One of the creatures landed on her shoulder and perched there, digging in with its hind claws. It bent its neck sideways, obscuring most of her face from the camera. Then it shuddered, pulling at something. Finally, it leapt away, springing off her, leaving behind two gaping holes where her nostrils had once been.

  Trina Martinez-Herald frantically snatched again for the camera. She gripped it with her bloody fingertips. On the screen, her face was huge, red, and out of focus. She and the camera fell as one to the ground. The image shifted to display a sideways picture of short, brown grass, lit by the high-powered light mounted on top of the camera. Jesse wanted to look away but couldn’t. He was too enthralled by the unfolding violence. One of the creatures moved closer to the camera. This time, the harsh light brought out every detail in crisp, clear high-definition. He realized Hannah was probably right. They did look like dinosaurs, straight out of Jurassic Park, only paler, meaner, and a whole lot uglier. In its mouth, the creature held a long bluish-gray cord with an orb attached to one end. The orb swung back and forth like a ball on a string.

  “Is that… Is that her eyeball?” Cheryl asked in a quavering voice.

  The creature cocked its head to one side and stared into the camera lens. It blinked twice. Crimson blood ringed its maw. It then jerked its neck upwards and opened its mouth wide. Eyeball and trailing optic nerve vanished down its throat in one swallow. Icy waves of revulsion shot through Jesse. He instantly regretted what he had seen, but there was no taking it back. Movement in his living room caught his attention. As if yanked from a nightmare, he remembered his family and turned to Cheryl and Hannah.

  Cheryl had covered her mouth with her hands. She was shuddering uncontrollably. She slowly leaned forward, rolling onto her feet. Without saying a word, she went stumbling down the hallway toward the bathroom. Jesse sucked in a breath, fully inflating his chest. He rested his palms on his knees and forced himself back into a state of practiced calm.

  Taking him by surprise, Hannah, with her teddy bear firmly clenched in her hands, clambered onto his lap and wrapped her arms around him. She was breathing rapidly. He could feel her tiny heart thudding away. She saw that? he thought. She saw that? Aching inside for being so stupid as to let her witness the brutal attack, he scolded himself, wanting to take it all back and somehow erase it from her memory. But he realized he couldn’t, so he did the only thing he could think of doing. He wrapped his thick arms around her and held her close to his chest. She sniffled and let go of her teddy bear to hug him even harder.

  He held her and started rocking, listening to the sounds of Cheryl retching in the bathroom down the hall. He figured he’d better check on her soon, but she was an adult. She’d survive. He had something more important that he needed to do. He bent and kissed Hannah gently on the top of her head. “It’s all right, pumpkin. Don’t be afraid. I’m here, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  She pushed away and gazed up at him. Her pupils were large. He could clearly see the terror in them.

  “Promise?” she asked.

  “Promise.”

  -3-

  IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN

  THREE YEARS EARLIER… Cory Melkin sat at a table on the left side of the auditorium’s stage, hidden from view by black curtains, but still able to observe the audience clearly. Restlessly, he tapped a pencil against a dog-eared copy of Malthus’s Principle of Population while viewing Professor Juan LaPaz’s lecture on Profiting from Geo-engineering and Sustainable Infrastructures.

  “Humans are thousands of times more common than we ought to be,” the professor said. “By all accounts, the planet can support no more than sixteen billion people. At our current rate of expansion, we will surely exceed that number within the next two hundred years, if not within the next fifty.”

  Professor LaPaz stopped to adjust his glasses. They had slipped down his beak-like nose. Cory hated being there, but he was the professor’s teaching assistant and one of his closest friends, so it was required that he attend. Today’s lecture was unique, too. It was the type of lecture where he had to wear a suit. He hated suits. The professor was speaking today in front of an audience of business and political leaders whom Cory figured would ignore most of what was being said. They were the villains of the world, the ones who preached chastity, modesty, and the godly ways of capitalism, while, in reality, they were the rapists of the planet.

  “Imagine a family of four,” the professor said, “moderate income, living together comfortably. Now, what if you were to add two more children to that family? Four more? Eight more? There comes a point where t
he family grouping is no longer able to act as a functional, productive contributor to society. Instead, that family unit slips into a vicious cycle of poverty and dependency. And when they are put into this position by a society that no longer cares for them, to what lengths will they go to survive?”

  Cory rolled his eyes. Easy one. He gazed over the identically dressed members of the audience in their black suits, red or blue ties, pantsuits, and skirt suits, thinking: They will come after all of you.

  The professor continued. “We may never make it to a total population density of ten billion. Climate change, deforestation, and the shortsighted destruction of the fragile ecosystem supporting life could significantly degrade our chances for survival. We are rapidly reaching the point of no return, and soon, no matter what is done, we will be unable to affect the variables of the equation. Life, as we know it, will become intolerable for all but the richest and most powerful. And even they will not escape the wrath of those whom they have left behind.

  “As a free people, capable of choice, we now stand on the edge of a cliff peering down into the abyss. It is a situation of our own making. One in which we must realize we are on the cusp of a catastrophic degenerative cycle from which there is scant hope of correction.”

  The professor banged his fist on the podium. The audience sat in abject silence. Cory sensed a certain uncomfortable apathy from those in the crowd, as if they resented being here. Most had likely stayed out of mock courtesy or were waiting for the following lecture at the bottom of the hour on Cost Reductions for the Shortened Business Cycle that would be given by the pretentious prick CEO who ran Aubergine Computers. Barely a smattering of suits now actively watched the professor. More than three-quarters of them sat with their arms folded or heads bent low, locked within their self-imposed slavery, praying to their new cell phone and tablet idols. Cory looked down on them from the stage. They were idiots, sheep. They were all marching merrily to slaughter, preferring to twiddle their fingers on gadgets while closing their minds off to the inescapable truth that their actions were leading to the extinction of the human species. Nevertheless, he knew better. He understood the nuances of Harding’s Tragedy of the Commons all too well. But these fat-cat greedy whores would love nothing more than to suck the marrow from Gaia’s bones, lick their pudgy little digits dripping with shiny grease, and audaciously ask for more.

  Douchebags, all of them.

  The professor held up a hand and counted on his thin, skeletal fingers. “Famine, war, destruction, disease, scarcity. Can you picture a world with no oil? No food? No clean water? A desolate wasteland where everything necessary for human survival must be consumed to keep warm? A world where death and constant conflict rule? Where only the strongest and most ruthless survive?”

  Cory puffed out through his nose and doodled something in his notebook. Those same ruthless scumbags made up a large portion of those here today.

  “If we cannot adequately manage our planet’s resources then this is our future. Do you think you can escape it? What about your children? How about your children’s children?”

  Cory could sense the crowd’s collective yawn.

  Professor LaPaz adjusted his wire-framed spectacles and ruffled his shaggy gray hair. He pointed to a slide projected on a large screen behind him. “This chart shows the growth of the human species over its entire existence. Starting in the early 1800s, the population has expanded at an exponential rate, which is far beyond reasonable sustainability. Prior to that, wars, famines, and plagues kept human populations in check. With advancing technology and medical breakthroughs, this balance has been misaligned and must be righted. While technology has brought us some wondrous and diverse things, it has also brought us many unintended consequences, the largest being complete dependency, no, enslavement to our distribution systems and social orders.”

  The argument Professor LaPaz had built so far was from his standard lecture, which Cory knew worked in classrooms filled with others like him, but he did not think it would work on this bunch. He recalled a quote along the lines of, “Convincing the enemy of their simpleminded wrongness was maddening and the domain of a fool.”

  But the professor was no fool.

  “Who here can produce their own food? Who can set a broken bone or cure an infection? As the population increases and our limited resources dwindle, we are advancing toward a cataclysm, a lingering, inevitable death.”

  Cory smiled. Not if we can help it.

  The professor glanced down at his notes and then looked back up. “Wealth. Let me say that again, slowly. Wealth. There is wealth beyond measure to be made preventing the destruction of our species.”

  A few heads flicked up to watch the man, but not nearly enough. Cory shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  “Green is now the ‘in’ thing. It is what many consumers want. It soothes guilty souls. Sustainability. Save the planet. Recycle. But, this can also be a curse. Here is a little question I would like you to consider. How can a market develop when the primary focus of the environmentalist movement is to reduce consumption?”

  Even more heads popped up. Cory smiled. Good. Perhaps they might get some new converts. However, he knew it should not be all about the money. Love of money was the root of evil that grew only lies and destruction. Sadly, the cause always needed more capital. More people, more dollars. But they were already far from alone. The message was spreading. He was a little fish in a big pond. Some in the world used their wealth for good purposes, like the deep pockets backing the cause. So, what his group needed to do was get a few more of those types to join them and fan the embers high enough to catch fire. When they did, he hoped to be front and center with the marshmallows and hot dogs and ready to roast.

  “As developed countries have put an end to unregulated immigration, their communities have stabilized. In Europe, there is almost no growth in native populations, and a number of other first-world nations have achieved equilibrium. Today, it is in the third-world countries where the trouble lies. Populations there are trending in the wrong direction.”

  Professor LaPaz coiled his hands around the side edges of the podium. He looked out over the crowd, bending closer to the microphone. He paused, and then asked in a hushed voice, “Who here can sell shoes to a starving man?” The professor waited for the question to sink in. He scanned the room, making eye contact with those watching. More of them unglued from their silly gadgets. Cory took pleasure in noticing the ripple of heads popping up like gophers searching for danger as if the answer to the question suddenly intrigued them.

  “Ah. Yes, you understand. These third-world populations must be managed as they move from third-world to first-world status. They are much like a garden. One that must be tended with loving care. For in a garden, plants must be pruned to make them grow less randomly and more productively. And because of our lot in life, and the blessings we were given, we are the stewards, the shepherds of humanity. We need to manage out-of-control, world-wide population growth to release our fellow humans from the tyranny of excessive reproduction.”

  A claque applauded right on queue. A few of the empty suits joined in and clapped mindlessly. While some of the people in the audience had been planted there, Cory grinned at the sudden enlightenment of the others.

  “Bio-engineered food sources, capable of feeding billions, those will be needed first. Stabilizing third-world population growth through humane methods, next. Then education, and finally, as those societies reach equilibrium, reduced populations will cultivate low-cost labor forces capable of replacing more cost-prohibitive countries.”

  Now the professor was speaking their language, exploitation, outsourcing, slave labor. Cory had many names for it, all bad, but apparently, the modified message was working. A good number of suits now watched with genuine interest.

  “And what if we continue to ignore problems caused by out-of-control population growth? What then?”

  Cory knew. These neo-capitalists would try to hide behind their wa
lls and toy soldiers. Shame and fear would eventually conquer them one by one. If not, there were many on his side willing to take it to the next level.

  “Would it not be better,” the professor continued, “to sell them shoes and shampoo and not be coerced into giving it to them?”

  Cory checked his watch. He knew the concept should not be tough for this crowd to grasp. He only wished the professor had more time to convince this bunch, but their allotted twenty minutes was almost up. Professor LaPaz’s glasses had slipped down his nose again. He took a moment and pushed them back into place with his middle finger. Cory smirked at the private joke.

  “I will finish tonight by restating it all as a single, simple, important question. Would you rather be shamed into spending money to provide food and clothing for those who cannot afford it, or would you rather sell it to them while also controlling new sources of inexpensive labor?”

  Among the suits, more were smiling and making notes on their devices.

  “Thank you for your time tonight,” the professor said. “Remember, profit is not always evil. Too many people have that wrong. All wrong. When those who care about the well-being of others direct the appropriate resources to the appropriate investments, it can lead to a brighter future for all.”

  The professor nodded and scanned the room.

  “Now, if you would like more information, please come visit our website. And if you have any further questions, I will be available later tonight in room four. Thank you again, and good night.”

  The professor collected his notebook and walked off the stage to scattered applause. Cory clicked a mouse to switch the screen behind the podium to the first slide of their presentation. It showed the name and seal of the organization they represented: The Society for Environmentally Sustainable Populations, or SESP. Under the seal was the web address where others could go to explore the social goals and provide donations.