Primitive. Part 14

We all grew silent as Stuart continued, and as he related this next batch of information I could feel the hairs standing along the nape of my neck. "The last time I saw it, the thing was coming. I call it the G.o.d of the New World, 'cause that's what I think it is. I could see it flying from the north, heading my way, and I ducked down to avoid being seen, but I still had the telescope out and I was watching it. The thing wasn't paying attention to me. It was just...flying around, going back and forth. It got about five, maybe six blocks from me and when I saw that its back was to me I took a chance and got a wide view of the area it was flying over. And...that other thing...that...primitive, the one that was changing, it was running directly below the thing and it was...making these weird gestures with its face and arms. I didn't know what it was doing at first. It was just going back and forth, across the street and back, over and over again, and I looked back up at the G.o.d of the New World and saw the connection. Every time the G.o.d of the New World changed course, that primitive changed right along with it. More I watched, the more I saw that the primitive was...it was linked to the G.o.d of the New World somehow. Making the same movements with its face, its arms, moving its head, the way it flew back and forth...the primitive was making the same movements and running back and forth in the same spot. As if it was being pulled-"

"Like it was directing it," I said. "Or...moving it around like a marionette pulls a puppet's strings."

"Yeah, exactly!" Stuart said.

"Have you seen this kind of behavior since then?" Wesley asked.

Stuart wrapped up his summation quickly. Five days after he witnessed that strange ritual/possession he caught a glimpse of another, this time coming from the opposite direction. "By then I had commandeered the entire top floor of my building," he said. "I just busted down the doors of the other apartments. They emptied out the day the s.h.i.+t hit the fan. Gives me a better view, and I barricaded the door to the staircase. Of course the elevators don't work here anymore and I'm twenty flights up, so those things will have to be really determined to get me if they want to. Anyway, I saw a similar ritual on the north side five days later. This time the G.o.d of the New World was controlling three of them. I think one of those was the first one I saw. It seemed...like it had changed more. It...didn't look human anymore."

Once again, I felt my veins freeze. I traded a glance with Wesley, then with Tracy. The look on Tracy's face was one of pure terror.

"So that's what I mean by this thing possesses them. It seems to take them over, turn them into miniature versions of itself," Stuart explained.

There was nothing else to discuss. Nothing else to debate, no further clarification needed. We had no need to disbelieve Stuart. He was a rarity in this new world. An un-primitive human being.

"I'm going to guess that it's too dangerous for you to get out of the city," Wesley said. Wesley looked exhausted. "Is that right, Stuart?"

"Yeah, I'd say so," Stuart said. "Some days it seems like I'm the only one here. I don't even see any primitives. I can sometimes go three, four days without seeing anybody. Then suddenly I've got a clan of them down on First Street running around like G.o.dd.a.m.n wild monkeys."

"Does that thing-that G.o.d of the New World, as you call it-show up when the primitives are nearby?" Martin asked.

"Not all the time," Stuart admitted. "But I don't want to take that chance. I just a.s.sume it's around."

Martin made a throat slas.h.i.+ng gesture with his hand, signaling to Wesley to cut the communication off with Stuart. Wesley nodded and turned to the console. "Listen, Stuart, I need to regroup with my people. Can I get you on this frequency again tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yeah, I'll be here. WB3SDS."

"Okay. Four o'clock Eastern time."

"Four o'clock it is.

"Take care of yourself, Stuart," Wesley said.

"You too, Wesley. And the rest of you. Sorry, I don't remember all of your names. I should...you guys are the only people I've heard from since...this all started." Stuart's voice broke slightly.

"It's okay, buddy," Wesley said, his tone soft. "We'll talk to you later."

"Okay. Over and out."

Wesley released the b.u.t.ton on the mike and leaned back from the console. The five of us regarded each other in that darkened radio room. I could read it in their faces, see it in everyone's eyes.

"This is bad," Martin said.

Twelve.

Despite the lateness of the hour, we weren't tired. I think we were all too disturbed by what we'd just heard to try to go back to sleep. I know Tracy was very bothered by what Stuart had to say. I could read it on her face. She prepared herself a gla.s.s of wine at the bar while Martin drew whiskey into gla.s.ses for himself and Wesley. Lori was sitting outside on the deck, looking out at the vast night. Eventually we made our way outside and grouped around the table that the former owner had set outside to serve as a gathering area for guests. The spot had become our unofficial meeting place for the summer.

"So what does this mean for us?" Lori asked. She was a dark silhouette in the night. Unlike other evenings when we brought candles out to illuminate the night, we sat in the dark. The evening was mild, in the low seventies, and I could see fireflies twinkling in the field below us.

"It means we made the right decision in holing up here," Martin said.

"If Stuart's in Philadelphia and this thing is heading west, will it swing by this way?" Tracy asked.

"And is it an actual real being?" I mused.

"Of course it's real," Lori said. "What kind of dumb a.s.s question is that?"

"We never saw this thing," I said. I was more or less thinking out loud. Trying to make sense of what I'd just heard, trying to apply it with what limited knowledge I had of primitive belief systems. "We saw the drawings, and I think we can all agree that the drawings represent a collective understanding...maybe some kind of psychic link the primitives have with this thing. G.o.d of the New World seems to be an apt name, but I wonder if it's accurate? G.o.d of the Old World may be a more accurate description."

"G.o.d don't look like that, and you know it!" Lori said.

I raised my hand up to stop the protest. "Hear me out for a minute. We agree that this virus Wesley told us about reverted everybody to his or her primitive state, that it altered our DNA and woke up the Neanderthal strain. Correct?"

I sensed nods all around. Martin murmured quietly. "Okay."

"What do we know about the spiritual beliefs of primitive man?" I resumed. "Anybody?"

Now I sensed confusion. Bafflement. Apparently my new clan was just as clueless about the spiritual beliefs of primitive man as I was.

"Just...what I've seen on the History Channel," Wesley said, making a n.o.ble try. "We know they had rituals over their dead...that they had burial rituals and stuff."

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "And James said that some primitive cultures practiced human sacrifice. We know various primitive cultures had different G.o.ds. G.o.d of sun, water, earth, that kind of stuff."

"I'm sure most of that is pure speculation," Tracy said.

"Sure," I agreed. "Speculation based on the scant archeological record. I admit, I don't know much about Neanderthals, just that they were a lower form of man, a distant relative, if you will."

"I thought there was a missing link between Neanderthal and modern h.o.m.o sapiens?" Tracy asked.

I shrugged. "It's possible. I remember something from the same History Channel episode Wesley saw. Something about ancient superst.i.tious beliefs of primitive man. Cave drawings, ancient artifacts found that suggest religious belief. Evidence of primitive burial rituals which would suggest some kind of belief in not only an after-life but a G.o.d of some sort."

"But n.o.body knows what kind of G.o.d," Martin said.

"That's what I'm not sure of," I said. "But here's the thing." I leaned over the table. I could sense the others drawing close to me in order to listen to what I had to say. I was very aware of Mother Nature around me; the breeze rustling the branches and leaves of the trees, the chirping of the crickets, the flickering lights of the fireflies dancing in the field below. I was trying to imagine how things might have been twenty thousand years ago or more. How the destructive winds of a hurricane might appear to primitive man who had no concept of the scientific basis of such weather patterns; that would be the wind G.o.d, of course. And if a hunting expedition proved to bear good fruit, it wasn't the combined skill or power of the hunter-gatherers that took the wooly mammoth down...it was the G.o.d of earth who helped things along, who made it possible for half a dozen men armed only with crude spears to bring down an enormous animal that could easily crush and maim with one stomp of a foot. Lightning setting trees on fire? That was the G.o.d of fire, of course. "Despite all the evidence we have of primitive man, we don't really know what they thought or believed in. There's no written record. We can only speculate based on the archeological record and by observing some of our more primitive cousins-chimpanzees, gorillas and the like."

"So you believe in evolution?" Lori asked.

"Yeah, I do," I said. I had no desire to get into a religious debate with Lori who, judging by some past comments, appeared to be a devout Christian. I wasn't sure if she was the type who swallowed the creation story as related in Genesis lock, stock and barrel-and I knew far more Christians who saw that story as pure allegory-but if that was the case, I didn't want to get into a theological argument with her. "But that's beside the point. Hear me out for a minute, okay?"

I sensed and saw nods around me. Tracy reached under the table and patted my leg. I smiled at her.

"We know Neanderthals were a somewhat more primitive distant cousin of us," I began. "They formed small communities. They learned how to make and harness fire, they made small tools, and they organized into warring sects. And they had some kind of primitive spiritual belief system as I mentioned earlier. There's also evidence they crossed paths and possibly crossbred with h.o.m.o sapiens, as...well, as we now have evidence of that due to what happened. The point is, prior to h.o.m.o sapiens appearing in the world, how much do we know about Neanderthal's belief systems? Not much, I would think. In fact, I don't think Neanderthals doodled on the walls of caves like our h.o.m.o Sapiens ancestors. I think what we're seeing with these drawings the primitives are doing is a result of our own hidden knowledge of communication and art. Anyway..." I paused, trying to collect my thoughts in order to articulate what I was trying to say. "Suppose Neanderthals had a belief system...that they wors.h.i.+pped a G.o.d that became so real to them...so powerful in their collective psyche that this...G.o.d...or whatever...it became real to them. It became powerful to them. They did all the things we're seeing and hearing about now...made sacrifice to it, performed rituals to appease it and then...over time, as h.o.m.o sapiens appeared and Neanderthals began dying out, belief in the G.o.d died and in turn..." I looked out in the darkness at my clan and I think they all understood what I was getting at. I saw Martin nod in acknowledgement next to me.

"You're saying suppose the G.o.d itself died off as Neanderthals did and now that they're back, it's back," Martin said.

"Bingo," I said.

"Jesus," Wesley said. I could sense him lean back in his chair. I could also sense the others coming to grips with what I had just hypothesized.

"So it's come back," Tracy said. Her hand found mine beneath the table and our fingers intertwined, drawing strength. "The Neanderthal strain has been awakened, and belief in the G.o.d has come back."

"And it's actually brought it back," Martin said. It sounded like Martin was having a hard time processing this.

"I think I'm having a hard time coming to grips with this myself," Lori said. She directed her next question to me. "How can it be physically back, though? That would suggest that Christians who believed in G.o.d could actually bring Him into the flesh for real."

"Yeah, but I think we have far more primitives in the world now than we've ever had Christians," I said. "Think of all that subconscious will of belief working at once. More than ninety percent of the human population, probably. All sharing that spiritual link."

"This is insane," Wesley said.

"I know," I said. I could feel my clan's confusion and intellectual struggle to wrap their minds around this. "It sounds crazy. Believe me, the thought that a belief in some kind of G.o.d could be so strong, especially the collective belief being so great...that it could make it appear in the flesh...it just flies in the face of everything that I believe in, but I have to take it into consideration. After all, it's happening."

"You're just making an educated guess at this, right?" Lori asked me. "I mean, whatever this thing is...this G.o.d...it couldn't have actually existed thousands of years ago-"

"But it did," I interrupted her. "It existed in the collective minds of primitive man."

"And now that they're back, those old beliefs have been reawakened," Wesley said, finally on my wavelength. "And there's more of them now than there have ever been. That's made their belief in it stronger." His eyes met mine across the table in the darkness. I could make them out in his dark silhouette.

"Yes," I said, nodding. I squeezed Tracy's hand. "Their collective belief has reawakened it and it's seeking its believers out. It's drawing them together to make it even stronger than it ever was before."

"And it's possessing its followers for the same reason," Wesley said, his features grave. "The more of its followers it can possess, the stronger a grip it has in the world."

I nodded, feeling the weight of dread settle over me. "Yeah," I said. "Now comes the next question. How to stop it."

Thirteen.

The following day several things of importance occurred.

I headed to town, accompanied by Martin and several rifles and handguns, in order to find some books on primitive man and ancient superst.i.tious beliefs. It was during our absence that most of the important things occurred, so I'll deal with the retelling of those events in due time.

Martin and I left fairly early-about eight o'clock-and drove to town. We were silent most of the way over. Martin drove. We'd gone to bed the night before tired, confused, scared, wondering what to do with the newfound information we'd learned. It was my idea to try to find books to research the subject of primitive man. Surely there had to be a library in town that would have books on the subject. The few books we'd picked up on an earlier excursion to town-medical books, guides to herbs and plants, volumes on childcare-had been secured from a ransacked Wal-Mart.

The town of Haversville is a dot on the map, but it once boasted a population of ten thousand. Most of our food and other sundries had been acquired from the shopping center at the northeast end of town. This time, as we drove through town, we headed through the downtown business district, looking for any indications of a library or bookstore. We thought there would be at least a library.

We were rewarded midway through town with a sign that pointed the direction to the Haversville Library. Martin steered the SUV in the right direction and a moment later we were circling the lot, scoping it out for any primitives.

I'd noticed a smell the moment we crossed into town. It was the smell of rotting flesh. Hundreds of bodies lying dead and maimed in their homes, in their cars, on the street; or dead from being attacked by primitives. It was hard to tell who had been primitive and who hadn't.

In the few times we'd been to Haversville I probably saw no more than fifty dead bodies. I a.s.sume most of the other ten thousand or so people who turned primitive had either fled to wherever it was they were gathering, or those who'd been spared the flipping of the DNA strain (like us) left town and scattered. Or they were killed.

Martin pulled the SUV into the library's parking lot, and as we exited the vehicle I got the feeling we were being watched.

I held the M4 rifle in my hands, muzzle pointing skyward. Martin tensed up beside me, weapon ready. He felt it too.

We weren't alone.

Martin and I exchanged a glance.

"Behind us," I whispered.

We whirled around in unison and squeezed off a volley of shots the minute we saw the primitive come rus.h.i.+ng at us from a ma.s.s of shrubbery that bordered the lot. It yelled a war cry, and as it ran I saw it was naked. Its p.e.n.i.s flopped uselessly between its legs and I caught a brief glimpse of a dirt and blood encrusted face, a wild look of mad intent in those eyes before it was cut down in a burst of gunfire.

It went down, legs twitching spastically, and was still.

Martin and I paused, eyes and ears alert for anything else.

All I could hear was the twitter of birds hopping among the trees. The sun was out, beating down on us, and the sky was bright blue.

The perfect summer day. In a dead town.

I tried to listen for human movement. The crunching of leaves beneath human tread, the harsh breathing of somebody making their way through side streets, the excited cries of primitives at the sound of gunfire. Even the sound of a real person shouting "Hey, I heard gunfire over there! Somebody else is out there! Maybe it's the National Guard or something! Hey, help us!" But there was none of that. There was only the silence of a near-perfect summer day.

Martin and I approached the corpse. A waft of foul body odor and excrement wafted up at me. I grimaced. "It's dead."

"Come on," Martin said, turning a grim countenance to the library. "Let's get this over with."

As we entered the library we were once again greeted by the foul stench of rotting flesh. A woman lay face down near the check out desk, her hair matted with flies and maggots, her business suit dusty. A once-portly man in a wheelchair was slouched over a computer desk, his throat ripped out. The expanding gases in his belly had distended his abdomen grotesquely and his T-s.h.i.+rt was ripped from the strain. I held a hand up to my nose and mouth, wondering if I'd be sick before I could get started in my search, when Martin pointed to our left. "Here we go," he said. "History and Anthropology. You go check it out, I'll stand watch here."

"Okay," I stepped toward the section, brandis.h.i.+ng my weapon.

I pa.s.sed one more body on my way, a boy of about twelve with brown collar-length hair. A chunk of flesh had been ripped from his throat and his blood had soaked into the carpet in a wide arc. I couldn't help but step through that dried blood as I made my way to the shelves, although once I realized why the carpet was so hard and crinkly beneath my footfalls I changed my path to skirt around it.

I finally came to the section I was interested in and tried to read the t.i.tles on the spines in the darkness. While the blinds had been open when the madness. .h.i.t, this section of the library was toward the center of the building, and in between the shelves it was darker than usual. I quickly determined how the volumes were arranged and tried to run through the sub-headings as fast as I could: US History, European History, Asian History, the Middle Ages, Ancient History...

I paused at this section, paying closer attention to each t.i.tle as I scanned through them. Sure enough, it was written ancient history: Mesopotamia, Babylonian History, and Egyptian History. On the shelf immediately following Ancient History was a placard that read Anthropology. It was there where I struck pay dirt with the first t.i.tle I came across: Primitive Man.

I pulled the volume out without even bothering to flip it open and scan the chapter headings and quickly selected five more, including a coffee table sized volume that included photographs of cave paintings and artifacts that had to have been religious in nature. I gave the section one more pa.s.s to make sure I'd gotten everything the library had on primitive man-all the other volumes were on primitive mammals and dinosaurs, as well as various geology books on the formation of the earth-then made my way back to where Martin was waiting.

When Martin saw me he nodded. "Found some?"

"Yeah," I said. "Let's get the h.e.l.l out of here."

We approached the gla.s.s door of the library. Nothing lurked outside. Martin stepped outside first, p.r.o.nounced the lot clear of danger, and we quickly made our way to the SUV and piled in.

We didn't relax fully until we were back on the highway heading toward the cabin. While Martin drove, I was able to turn my full attention to the volumes I'd pilfered from the library.

"Find anything that could be useful to us?" Martin asked.