The Trail

Chapter 6 | The error in evolution

Cold, and rugged, I leaned forward in order to add another of the few dry twigs - that I had managed to gather despite the downpour - into my small campfire. Juniper laid next to me, curled into a ball under the tarpaulin, which I had fastened between two trees in order to protect us from the rain. Below it, I had rolled out my sleeping bag, which was what we now rested on.

I had taken of my wet clothes, and traded them for the only change that I had; a black, worn tee shirt, a grey hoodie and a pair of ripped jeans together with a dry pair of socks. I had also put on my rain coat and pulled the zipper up all the way to my chin so that I would keep warm. The rain had quickly cooled of the sweltering temperature, making me shiver after my reluctant bath in the river. As far as hygiene was concerned, however, the change of clothes didn't do much. All my clothes were filthy and reeked of sweat. Luckily, Juniper was the only one around to smell me. She didn't seem to mind, or, she was just as used to it as I was. I had dried her fur the best I could with my damp towel before I had put on her rain coat. Last thing we needed was for her to acquire moist dermatitis.

While she slept, I prepared the hare that she had brought me. In the same time, I waited for the water to be cleansed of pathogens by boiling.

I was exhausted, my deepest wish to crawl into my sleeping bag next to Juniper. I felt dizzy and slightly nauseous as a strong headache pounded against my temples. I could still hear quiet voices call out to me from the dark. Whenever I heard something in the bushes, I jumped, and they fed on my fear.

"They are coming for you, Charlie", I heard in my right ear. The voice spoke as if in a hurry.

"They wan't your dog. Your precious little Juniper", a woman's voice whispered and then lastly hissed as if it changed form into a snake.

"What will you do without her? Without her you will be lost. As good as dead", they echoed through my head.

"But we are here for you, Charlie. We will always be here for you..."

I focused at my task at hand, trying to shut them out. Just as the water had finished boiling, I was done skinning the hare. I took my camping kettle of the fire and left it to cool under my provisional tent.

Then, I grabbed my pocket knife to cut the hare's belly open. I emptied the intestants and other organs to only leave the meat itself. I still had some salt amongst my supplies and decided to dry some of the meat to make it last longer. I cut it into thin slices, before taking the rest of the hare to let it cook over the fire. Whatever was left I gave to Juniper, who had got up by the smell of blood.

While she ate, I leaned back against one of the two trees that had helped me provide shelter. I still felt as if I was left to the desert's reign, not quite gripping the fact that we had made it out alive. These days the climate changed faster than light traveled, making it impossible to predict the weather. Walk another couple of miles and you could be walking into a hurricane. As the gulf stream had started to slow down years ago, the temperature had spiraled. In Australia it had only grown hotter, while in other parts of the world, like Europe, it was now unbearably cold, all thanks to the greenhouse effect. I could not determine what was worst. Freezing to death, with no electricity to help keep you warm, or being scorched under the sun with no shade or water to cool you down.

I often spent my time contemplating the harsh reality that there was no way to fix what the human race had brought on themselves. I couldn't possibly set of on an epic mission to save the world, like they would in a movie. There was no way to stop it from destroying itself - if it even was destroying itself. With the disease that had spread like wildfire, taking the lives of billions of people, it didn't seem as if it was the end of the world. Rather, it seemed like someone had hit the reset button.

Perhaps the human race was only an error in the coding of evolution. A mistake that had to be erased. It had happened before, species going extinct because they weren't adapted well enough to life on Earth. Which, in ways, we weren't.

The modern world wasn't built on a foundation based on harmony with nature. Instead, all we had ever done was to fight against it, when what we should have done was to find a way to live beside it. Maybe if we had returned to the old ways a lot sooner, the future would have looked a little bit brighter. Some people had, the Aboriginal people for once. The rest of us could certainly have learnt a thing or two from them. Instead, we had stolen their land and banished them to a life of poverty. That was the thing about humans; they banish everything that strays from their ideal. Gripped by fear of what is different.

One thing was at least certain; it was no longer up to us to determine the fate of the planet Tellus, if it ever had been. If we were what was left of the human race, we could only pray that there would be a future left for us after Earth was done resetting itself. A future where we would be put to the test in order to tell whether we were worthy enough for the new world. A test that Darwin most likely would have called 'survival of the fittest'.

I noticed that Juniper had finished her meal. Afterwards, she settled on the worn fabric of the sleeping bag with a content sigh. My own food was almost ready, and only a moment later I was hungrily ripping of the meat, using my teeth, from the grilled hare while rinsing it down with lukewarm water. It didn't take long before most of the meat was gone and I had drank an entire kettle full of water. I will boil more tomorrow, I thought as I put out the fire.

Before I laid down to sleep, I gathered my things into my backpack in case we would have to leave in a hurry. Dead tired and fully dressed, I crawled into my sleeping bag. It didn't take long for my weary eyelids to close shut. To the sound of the light rain that pattered against the tarpaulin and the fresh smell that rose from the humid vegetation I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.