Zena marveled at that. She had thought the limits were much narrower. For one thing, she had understood that much sea life was dependent on direct sunlight. But she could think of two explanations: first, that there had been many quick extinctions, as in ages past, leaving room for those better able to cope with the changed environment. Second, that this type of thing had indeed happened before, so that the creatures of the sea had prior experience. No doubt there had been an explosion of the fungus life in the sea as well as on land, providing an alternate source of food. Fungus was independent of light, so it was always ready to fill the vacuum.
What had happened to the fishes of the sea at the time of Noah’s flood? Geologically, this was still soon after that deluge. The sea creatures would not have forgotten, genetically, how to handle it.
In addition, the warmth of the water, plus the wealth of refuse washed down from land, had provided an ideal growth medium for those species ready to take advantage of it. The net would feed the little party of four people and two animals indefinitely.
“The world is ours,” Gus said, pleased. His whole personality seemed to have sprung back the moment the rain stopped. Had he already sealed off the deluge as a nightmare?
A sinuous ripple approached. It was an alligator, a large one. The reptiles, like the fish, were doing well!
“This warm weather, and all that water,” Zena murmured. “The cold-blooded creatures thrive on it. The world is really theirs.”
The alligator poked its head up on shore, and the four people stepped back hastily. They had no real fear of it, because they were better equipped to maneuver on the land. But it did seem that Man was now a minority species on the planet.
“We’ll have to make a raft,” Gus said. “Travel about, find others like us, start civilization over.”
Zena, long on her feet, suddenly sat down on a mossy rock. “Oh-oh,” Floy said. “Raft’s going to have to wait.”
“Look!” Gus cried, pointing across the water. “A boat!”
“Just let me rest,” Zena said. “It’s not due yet.”
“Halloo!” Gus called, waving his hand in the air.
“Listen,” Roy said, “I’m no expert, but I think it is due. We’ve got to get you back home.”
Thatch’s head turned back and forth. He didn’t know whether to watch the boat or help Zena. But his decision was soon made. “A stretcher,” he said. “We’ll make a stretcher and carry you back.”
“It’s coming!” Gus exclaimed. “Two men.”
“There’s nothing to make a stretcher,” Floy said. “We’ll have to set up right here. See if there’s a hot spring near.”
“No.” Zena protested futilely. “Not for another month!”
They made her as comfortable as possible, gathering soft moss to make a temporary bed. The contractions eased, then came again, harder. Zena knew it would happen long before a month had passed. She must have miscounted, after all.
Now the boat came near. It was a canoe, or rather a kayak, covered over with animal skins to seal out the water. The upper halves of two people showed, stroking with paddles on opposite sides so that the little craft glided smoothly and swiftly forward. A man and a woman, both young and vigorous.
“We’d better parlay with them before we go anywhere,” Thatch said. “Maybe they can help.”
But the boat stopped thirty feet from the shore, its occupants backpaddling to hold it in place. “We don’t want any trouble,” the man called. “You stay on your island, we’ll stay on ours, okay?”
Gus and Thatch exchanged puzzled glances. “Trouble?”
Floy strode to the bank. “We have a woman in labor here. No drugs or anything. You’re the first human beings we’ve seen since the second rain began. Please, help us!”
The kayak moved closer. “They do!” the woman said. “And we thought we had problems!”
“I don’t see any weapons,” the man said.
“Weapons!” Gus cried. “We don’t want to fight! Too many people dead already.”
“He has a scar,” the man said.
The woman peered at Gus. “No, that’s not the one.”
“I put that scar on him, if you really want to know,” Floy said. She showed her fingers. “But that was a personal matter. We don’t want to—”
“We had to eat two of our own number just to get through,” Gus said.
“Shut up!” Floy hissed, too late.
“You killed your own?” the man demanded suspiciously.
“No, of course not,” Gus said. “One was killed when bandits attacked us, just as the rain was starting. The other was a diabetic. We—” He broke off, remembering Karen. “What do you care, anyway? If you don’t want to help—”
“Those bandits,” the man said, showing interest. “Were they white or black?”
“White,” Gus said. “One of them had a scar on his face. They came in with guns and knives, trying to take our home and women. We killed four. We don’t have any decent home anymore, so there’s nothing for you to take, if that’s what you’re—”
“Wait!” Zena cried, interrupting him. “They’re black! That’s why they distrust us!”
Gus did a double-take. “So they are! What difference does it make?”
“Those bandits,” the man said. “They hit us a week before the second rain. Killed two men and a child, burned our house. We thought it was a race war. But if they went after you too—”
“You have children?” Floy asked.
“Three of them. Not ours; we’re not a family. Weren’t, anyway, before the rains. We had to eat our dead, too; there wasn’t any other way, except the moss.”
“Well, the bandits are dead,” Gus said. “We found their camp.”
“Zena and I worked over scarface,” Floy said with relish. “And Dust Devil finished him off.”
“We gave him that scar,” the woman said.
“Any of you know nursing or medicine?” Floy asked. “We can’t wait long.”
“We have one old lady, used to be a midwife. You want to come in with us?”
“Sure,” Gus said. “For now, anyway. See how it works out. We have a net for fishing, but it’s hard to handle without plenty of manpower. Not much else we can contribute.”
The boat pulled up to shore. “Okay,” the man said.
“One of you came back with me, meet our people. Don’t expect too much, at first—we’re leary of whites, after what happened. But we’ll make do, make a new start together. Joy’ll stay here with you, talk things over. We’ll fetch our midwife.”
The pangs of labor were upon Zena again, but now she knew things were going to be all right. Joy was coming toward her solicitously, while Thatch struggled to enter the unfamiliar craft.
“Were you picked up in Florida?” Zena asked between spasms, remembering the girl they had lost.
“No. Never been there,” Joy said.
Oh, well. Mankind would continue—and perhaps this time it would build on a better foundation.
Afterword by Donald L. Cyr
The Annular Theory has been presented in this novel as fiction. It is not. Isaac N. Vail was an obscure Quaker scientist who lived from 1840 to 1912; he originated and publicized this theory that there were once icy rings about the Earth, similar to those now about the planet Saturn. He suggested that these rings lost momentum, dropped closer to our planet, and dissolved into a tremendous vapor canopy perhaps a hundred miles above the Earth’s surface. This vapor canopy could have been similar to those of Jupiter and the other gas giants.
When sufficient material had been injected into this canopy, Vail suggests, it became unstable. As it spread out to shroud all the planet, the portion near the north and south poles had to fall. Vail believed that the lack of centrifugal force toward the poles caused the downfall, but modern interpretation considers that the interaction with Van Allen zones, whose impinging particles were discovered by space probes and earth satellites, could have been the controlling factor. Possibly future space probes that explore distant Jupiter may settle the issue of how such canopies operate. That the earth once had such a canopy that did fall in the poleward regions is at present still a viable scientific theory; all that remains is to settle the details.