One

Light slowly filtered through the cracks of those buildings long abandoned, yet still standing. Huge trees sprung up beneath their exposed steel skeletons as the land worked vigorously to reclaim its verdant stranglehold. Nearby piles of broken glass and concrete, shed over time and nearly worn back into sand by decades of whipping winds, twinkled in the morning sunrise. Deer, wolves, foxes, horses, coyotes, and bears, to name a few, had muscled their way back into territory once dominated by humanity’s inhospitable concrete facades and had picked up some interesting new survival skills in the process, seamlessly integrating the decaying city into their routines. Foxes were often seen high in the more structurally sound buildings, peering out a long-broken windowpane for the chance to pounce on anything that may provide itself as an easy target. Peregrine falcons had all but eliminated the feral rock dove population from the city, long dwindling since their steady supply of trash, seed, and bread was cut off long ago. Wolves adapted best of all, utilizing every nook and cranny of the ruins to effectively skulk around. Deer were the second best, but they had been outmatched by their wily rival in this environment and so were a rare find.

Against the odds, Mac went tracking anyway. Only ten meters in he spotted some dung decidedly that from a deer. He hovered one hand above it to judge its freshness and took a short whiff. It was still warm and stank mildly, a good sign. Mac decided to alert the others in the hunting party by sending a text: a flower emoji, followed by a poop emoji followed by a deer emoji. Han, Will, and Chuck, Mac’s brothers, had mercifully kept their phones on silent and only quickly looked at them when the screen lit up but Doug, his absent-minded cousin, had forgotten to silence his. The phone squawked its presence to every living thing within the area, loud rustling exploding from the underbrush in all directions and fading into the distance. Mac cursed under his breath. He loved Doug dearly and respected his technological know-how but sometimes could not fathom how Doug had survived to adulthood. He sighed, trying to calm himself with a good memory, the time he and Doug had devised a scheme to hunt a massive buck and succeeded, effectively feeding the tribe all winter long. Mac knew Doug could do it, and also knew that Doug wanted to do it, so Mac dealt with him coming along. Besides, Doug had a habit of noticing things that would go unnoticed by others, making connections that would make their outings more effective. Mac, taking a deep breath in, quelled his anger. He waited for the others. They appeared first as indistinguishable silhouettes against the rising sun but quickly came into focus. First, Han leading the party, silent as a bobcat. Then, Will and Chuck following close behind, nearly as silently, and finally, Doug, bumbling his way along as silently as he could manage. Mac gestured toward the cooling pile of dung, now illuminated in the sunrise. Mac’s elder brother Han, his nose second to none, bent down and took a sniff. He frowned slightly as he waited for his brain to make sense of the bouquet of aromas.

Han smelled apples and grass and sarsaparilla, a mix of aromas that conjured an image of a clearing about thirty meters south of their current area, a favorite spot for the deer to congregate. Han gestured in that direction, and the party correctly guessed his intention and followed, even Doug now focusing his entire attention on his footfalls in an effort to be silent. This clearing, which they knew as Arcadia, had become well known in the area for hosting a variety of great local flora and fauna.

During the time of empires and centralized civilization, the humans living within its confines became bored, confused, and listless. In the early 21st century, the monster of capitalism had taken a frightening toll on the world at large and those young enough at the time realized that to save themselves, and humanity at large, they would have to go about making some drastic changes. As the prior generations’ ideology was no longer viable they started to realize they didn’t need the huge cities to continue their lineages. Bit by bit, they returned to the land, not without the spoils of their ancestors, but with the proper knowledge of how to handle them.

Mac crept forward, once again taking his position as scout. He kept his keen senses focused on the path ahead. It was well-trod and for being man made surprisingly durable through the years. Even after being left to ruin, many of the landmarks built before his birth stood as monuments to what was, monuments to repression and servitude and waste, but monuments to innovation, collective spirit, and exuberance persisted as well. A tattered striped awning flapped in the wind as the group slunk past an abandoned storefront proclaiming to have the best Mac and Cheese in the area. Mac’s eyes flickered towards the shattered windows in an effort to deduce danger and, noticing this potential wordplay, chuckled to himself and faced forward once more. The party continued on, down the pleasantly forested pathway, silent and wary.

Sunlight spilled westward ever higher through the trees, patterning everything with blazing orange stripes. They had traveled nearly two kilometers when Mac saw a faint twitch from the corner of his eye. He immediately gestured for the rest to stop while focusing his gaze on that spot. Again, he saw it, but could not believe his eyes when he realized what he was looking at. He thought the sunlight was playing tricks on him at first, so he squinted and shadowed his eyes with his hand just to be sure. This was no trickery, just a very large African lioness ambling directly towards the hunters.

A side effect of abandoning all of civilization is effectively orphaning all zoo animals. Some kind souls made misguided efforts to release the captives into the wild but it often ended in disaster. In most instances the animals died, as they were unable to adapt to the world outside of captivity. A few individuals, however, rescued and bonded with certain creatures, or at least that was the popular rumor. A man had been seen riding an elephant north of the main camp, and Mac had received the photo from Doug as proof. This lioness, however, was a different story altogether.

Sensing the imminent danger, Mac whipped around and frantically motioned toward a dense copse of ash trees about 10 meters away, then sprinted toward them. The party, realizing the urgency, quickly followed, shrinking into the shadows. They slowed their breathing from fearful, ragged gasps to calm sighs. Once his hand stopped trembling Mac texted the party his observations. Mercifully, even Doug had silenced his phone so the only reactions to the news were those of faces silently blanching. Mac hadn’t dared to stay out one second longer to further observe the big cat so the party had no way of knowing if it was still heading their way but it wasn’t wise to press their luck. After all, the You-Tie-Way (Need to verify nothing that even sounds like this exists in real life) Tribe had sworn off most firearms and had reverted to bows and arrows, leaving the boys with a near impossible shot against the huge cat. To their credit, and ultimately to their advantage, they were very, very good at choosing their battles wisely and staying out of sight when conditions were unfavorable.

It had been nearly five minutes since Mac’s sighting and every minute lost was a minute the trail got colder and their potential meal wandered further out of reach. He decided to inch his way out of the shadows, toward the road and potential danger. He poked his head out from the copse and fluidly moved to all sides, surveying for the lioness. When his search turned up empty, he texted the party to continue on. They fell back into place, with Mac scouting ahead and the party continuing down the sturdy, yet steadily crumbling man made pathway. By this time the sun had climbed higher still, illuminating the path and burning off patches of vapor. Another fresh pile that was found was investigated by Han. They were definitely heading in the right direction. As the party continued toward the clearing, the crumbled ruins of civilization gradually gave way to a dense forest teeming with life, a forest so dense even the sun couldn’t penetrate its canopy. Ahead the man-made trail of concrete dissolved into nothing, leaving only a well-worn dirt path leading directly into the darkness. Mac waved everyone on, and one by one they crept deeper into the inky blackness. Behind them a breeze blew, the leaves rustled. Then, nothing stirred.

Two

Welchy and Inverness darted from bush to bush, laying snares out for unsuspecting jackrabbits. The sun was still well below the horizon; the moon staying strong in her throne. The twins worked feverishly, hoping to be rewarded shortly before being subjected to the fierce, blazing sun. They settled under a thick palo verde, caught their breath, and waited. Five moments. Then five more. They willed themselves to be stone-still, as to not alert their cunning prey. In the twilight Welchy made out a small shape bounding in their direction. As the shape got closer he made out the unmistakable ears of a jackrabbit. The rabbit slowed its approach as its shape became more defined in the darkness, the huge ears pricked and alert for danger. The twins intently eyed it, Inverness willing it toward a trap with her gaze. It sniffed the air, and, smelling no danger, headed toward a bush. Moments later a loud scream pierced the night, followed by a mighty struggle that ended just a minute after it began. The twins traded subtle smiles and waited for more. In all they caught five before the sun burst on the scene and forced them to scuttle into the shadows. It was enough to tide them over for yet another day in the harsh badlands. They had gathered kindling the evening prior and stashed it in a shady spot. Welchy was now spit-roasting jackrabbits in that same spot, enduring the heat of the morning. In just an hour the temperature had risen considerably and in an hour more would be unbearable so they worked efficiently to prepare their meal. “Vern, what do you reckon would happen if we slipped up once and got caught in the sun?” Inverness looked her brother in the face and pushed out a whispered “We die.” “Are you sure? There is no way to survive while the sun is up? Didn’t you see the ruins to the south? Between the mountain ranges? Wasn’t our great grandmother from that very spot? They must have figured out a way to live during these times. I think we could figure out something similar.” Welchy looked small and ragged, skinny from the meager offerings of the desert. Inverness slumped her shoulders and got back to work, worrying for her brother’s health but doing her best not to show it. They had been roaming the desert for weeks now, trying their best to find a new tribe to take them in since their previous one succumbed to drought, their mother being among the victims.

The southwest hadn’t been as willing to cede its power as the rest of the country. On this side many victims were created due to arrogance, those leaders not realizing the power of the movement and its draw to every person of meager means. State-wide civil wars were fought and many thousand were killed during the carnage. Welchy and Inverness happened to be among the ancestors of those survivors, the rugged desert rebellion, who bravely fought for all against the tyranny of consolidated power and wealth, against inequality in all forms, and for the most egalitarian of governing systems. The formerly powerful were eventually removed, forcibly from their positions, and exiled to die wandering alone among the cacti. The survivors, the faithful of the movement, broke into their many, many small units, ready for a life free of distractions.

Welchy’s small form heaved as he laid his head against the cavern walls, his sister close by. The children had just escaped heat stroke by jogging back to their temporary cavern home. Huffing and puffing but used to the daily ritual now, they breathed deeply to calm themselves. After a few minutes they wiped the sweat from their respective brows, tightly embraced each other, and finally laid out on the grass mat they shared. They closed their eyes and fell into slumber. Welchy was exhausted and slipped swifty into a dreamless sleep. Inverness did not have such a smooth journey. She did drift off, but dreamed many worrying things. Things like her brother dying of malnutrition. Things like being captured by marauders. Things like herself dying, unable to provide for them both. She woke up in cold sweats between the nightmares. The sun was high in the sky. She roused herself and checked the perimeter of the cave. Shuffling quietly she checked for any indents in the sand that suggested intruders. Not seeing anything suspicious, she paced back to the mat and lowered herself to her side. Still feeling exhausted and now hot, she tried her best to let sleep take her. This time she dreamed about a time before her mother had died. Her mother had urged in her dream for her to keep going. To not give up. This time she didn’t wake until night had fallen. Welchy was already awake and scratching doodles onto the cave wall with a knife. Inverness had always felt he had an exceptional talent for doodling, his drawing taking on form and dimension. She had a phone once and remembered seeing the art of {todo artist: Van Gough or another}, whose impressionistic stroke was present in her own brother’s work. She sat up, stretched, yawned and scratched, and made her way to her feet. The two of them prepared their bags for the night. Supplies for creating snares, a bow, and a pistol with 3 bullets. Their mother had told them the pistol was only to be used against marauders or mountain lions and they had taken that as law. There had been 6 originally, but some marauders just wouldn’t leave well enough alone. They headed into the desert, wilderness well-lit by the light of the full moon.

Upon hearing of the movement for the first time many were so enamored of the idea they vowed to learn as much as possible about living outside the bounds of civilization, barren as the surrounding landscape was. Regardless, they spent their time conversing with those who had already unearthed some of the desert’s secrets, the Navajo and Apache, to further build their knowledge. Many of those attracted by the movement were drawn in by its rational nature. It required no worship, no acknowledgement of impossible phenomena, no buying in. In fact it actively discouraged all of those things. It only asked that you talk with your fellows about the possibility of the movement coming to pass. Spreading talk about the movement took it from an idea to something more concrete because it encouraged thought. It encouraged critical thinking. It encouraged cooperation and from those plans were born. Plans that involved taking the power back, once and for all.

A CHAPTER

The hunting party had made good progress, nearly closing in on their prey. They’d seen the deer about 20 meters ahead and everyone, including Doug, was on their stealthiest approaches. As they crept ever closer they saw it was sniffing the ground near a puddle, evidently scrounging for a mid-morning snack. Mac nocked an arrow back and lined up his shot. He held his breath to steady his aim, and slightly shifted his fingers from the string to let it fly. The fletching swooshed through the airk as the arrow whizzed toward the target, hitting it in the kill zone with a satisfying, wet, THUNK. The deer dropped immediately as Mac gently exhaled, its last breath inextricably tied to the breath of another. The party cautiously made its way toward the carcass, wary of the lion they just narrowly avoided.

A CHAPTER

Charlie {todo: research how to scale a cell phone tower} ratcheted his way up the tower, ever closer as each tooth locked into place during the ascent. He knew how important his upcoming task was, how vital to human connection and continued inter-tribal trade it would become. The coveted title of Master Cellsmith of the Northern Americas was his to take and would make him nearly legendary in this entire region.