Of the seven billion people living when the world ended, only a few thousand souls survived—not even enough people to fill a modest football stadium or concert hall. Most survivors were living on outlying islands in the Philippines, Indonesia, and Malaysia and were thus spared—for a time. Within six months, most of them were gone too, victims of the plague unleashed by the Earth’s core in retribution for a century of cumulative abuse. Fracking for oil and natural gas was the undoing of man.
The Earth began repairing itself almost immediately. In short order, animals reclaimed dominance over their near-extinct Human masters with a swiftness impossible had more than a few Humans survived. One-time pets were now rulers of all they surveyed. Once removed from under the rule of mankind, animals’ natural instincts came to the fore. Unfettered by Human dominance, their intelligence developed rapidly.
Animals born natural enemies became amicable inhabitants of the same space. Without humanity encroaching and poaching, food and water became plentiful once again, lessening animosity between species. While hunters still hunted and prey still fed them, a harmony and balance unlike any seen before mankind’s ascension was restored.
But this tale isn’t just about endings. It’s also about beginnings.
Two
Life in Davao City was always relatively easy, even before the Collapse. Then, with the people gone, paradise began living up to its name in earnest. While there were many animals living in Davao, two groups made up the majority—the Bat colony on Samal Island, who identified themselves as the Bats of Paradise; and the colony of Budgerigars, or simply Budgies, who identified themselves as the Birds of Paradise.
Budgies and Bats, while not normally enemies, shared an easy alliance in the renewed world. Both groups worked together toward mutual, comfortable survival. The common enemies of Bats and Budgies included Cats, Rats, and occasionally Dogs. In the months immediately following the Collapse, many Budgies were lost to raids by these predators, and likewise, Bats sometimes fell prey to the same raiders, if less often. And so the two flyers became natural allies for mutual protection.
When the alliance between Bats and Budgies was forged, a council was formed to manage it. Called the Wings of Paradise, it was composed of six members, three from each colony. Two of the three representatives were Elders, chosen for their knowledge and ability to exercise rational, clearheaded thought. The remaining member of each group was a Youngling, chosen for their flight skills, bravery, and willingness to learn.
All three of the Budgie council members—Max and Hettie, the Elders, and Vic, the Youngling—had been human pets before the Collapse. All the Bats came from the wild and so had little experience with Humans before their extinction, save with the visitors who’d snapped pictures of them at their main colony cave.
The oldest of the Bats was called Bongse. He was a skilled hunter and always knew where to find the best insects whenever the colony ventured out in search of sustenance. His fellow Elder on the council was Magsay, who’d given birth to many strong pups and was revered for her expertise in raising capable Bats, as well as for her hunting prowess. Whenever members of one of the colonies were sick or elderly and couldn’t hunt for themselves, it was Magsay who organized the other Bats and Budgies to provide for them. Rounding out the Wings of Paradise council was a Bat pup named Kal.
The council’s job was ensuring the mutual protection of both species, as well as seeking new territories for expanding the colony. Each species trained a Guardian class to secure the perimeter around both colonies and repel any attackers that might threaten them. Budgies provided daytime protection, while Bats covered the night watch.
Others were trained as Kidapawan, who roamed far afield in search of new areas suitable for offshoot colonies to expand the territories of the two species. The night-flying Bats of the Kidapawan were responsible for aerial scouting, while the day-flying Budgies performed ground observations and identified food and water sources. Once these scouts discovered an area suitable for both species, Transplants—small groups of Bats and Budgies—would leave each of the main colonies and begin the settlement process.
On the seventh such mission, Humans were seen for the first time in as many generational cycles.
Three
As the afternoon waned, the setting sun shone like brilliant diamonds on the ocean. Vic, the Youngling Budgie council member, and Via, his sister, made a final sweep of the island they’d been exploring for much of the day. The previous evening, smoke had been seen near the center of the small island; but closer inspection by the Bats patrolling couldn’t confirm it, so a daytime patrol was dispatched to investigate further. A small, nearby cave system held promise as a new colony home, and the presence of smoke so close to it was worrisome.
“I still don’t see anything,” carped Via. “We should head back. I’m getting hungry.”
“All right. Quit complaining. Let’s do one more low sweep over that clearing, then we’ll rest for a bit before heading home,” Vic replied. “There are some ripe mangoes down there we can snack on.”
“I guess that works,” Via said reluctantly.
The pair began their descent, sweeping in tight circles around the open area populated by coco palms and papaya and banana trees. Vic led them down, with Via riding close on his tail feathers. As they made their final circle aiming for the grove of mangoes, Via squawked a warning before shooting straight up and away from her brother. Taken by surprise, Vic nevertheless followed suit, quickly catching up to her as she settled, fluttering her wings, at the top of a coconut tree.
“What’s your problem?” he yelled, landing beside her.
“There are Humans there! Didn’t you see them? There are three big ones and two little ones.”
Vic hadn’t seen anything, but he was loath to admit it to her. “Of course I saw them. I wanted to get a closer look, before you scared the crap out of me. We should find out if there are more of them. This place would be a perfect offshoot site, so long as it isn’t too overrun with Humans.”
“I don’t want to live anywhere near Humans,” Via snapped. “They stink and make too much awful noise.”
It was something Vic had heard before. He and Via had been adopted by very different Humans. Via’s owners had kept her cage-bound, never letting her out to fly or stretch her wings. She’d lived her entire life indoors before the Collapse and now, with the freedom of a clear-blue sky to fly in, considered her life under the rule of Humans as near-imprisonment—the din they’d made, the constant, oppressive odors they’d created. Looking back on that time, Via found her memories of cooking chicken and a blaring Tee-Vee particularly offensive. It was only by chance that one of her owners had opened her cage to feed her when he was struck down by the Collapse Plague. His death had been her harbinger of freedom.
Vic simply couldn’t understand Via’s attitude, mainly because his Humans hadn’t been so bad. He’d been allowed free flight inside their home and could come and go from his cage as he wished. Because he’d been treated relatively well by them, he held a higher opinion of Humans than most Budgies. Deep down, if he were honest with himself, Vic missed his Humans. He missed their attention and their providing food and water for him. But if he were ever to acknowledge that, he’d likely lose his seat on the council. His was a minority opinion.