REBIRTH ... The New Dark Ages

By Bill Sheehy

When terrorists succeed and the world oil spigot is turned off it is a world wide disaster. Now two, possibly three hundred years after the end of civilization Rory's new world is slowly rediscovering some of the knowledge of the “ancients”. A major problem in this new Dark Age is a population imbalance; there are too few females. Nothing will be ever be like it was before.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bill Sheehy
• Release date: Feb 25, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452304861

Bill Sheehy

A prolific writer, I have a number of western stories and crime mysteries published in the old fashioned way, paper and ink, and am now moving some of those stories into eBooks.As time goes by I'll format all or some of these as well as a major SF saga and at least one if not two non-fiction works.Stay tuned and make a note of my name so you can search for it and my stories.Remember ...Always read stuff that will make you look goodif you die in the middle of it.P.J. O’Rourke

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Preface

The historic age of Egypt lasted more than 3,000 years.

The Roman era lasted more than 1,000 years.

The modern Industrial Age, made possible by the use of fossil fuels as the prime

source of energy, is only slightly more than 200 years old.

The History of the Fall

At least three hundred years before this story begins, modern civilization was delivered two blows that changed the world. The first was a long time coming and rarely understood until it was too late. This was the stress on society caused by an imbalance in population, the result of birthrates in too many countries falling far below replacement levels. The pressure of this issue, exacerbated by over population in other countries, overuse of the world’s natural resources and fear of global warming had reached unacceptable limits. Governments, always promising a better control on these problems in the very near future might have delayed events but for the second shock, the almost instant loss of oil as an energy source.

As early as 2004, it was known that birthrates were falling far below replacement levels in many countries, from China, Japan, Singapore and South Korea to Canada, the Caribbean, all of Europe, Russia and even parts of the Middle East. For more than a generation, well fed, healthy, peaceful populations around the world had been producing too few children to avoid population decline.

Mechanical devises such as the ultrasound-scanning machine came into widespread use in Asian countries such as Bangladesh, China, India and Taiwan. The instrument gave pregnant women a cheap and readily available means to determine the sex of their unborn children. By choosing to give birth to boys, and to abort girls, millions of Asian parents propelled the region into an extraordinary sex imbalance.

For countries such as China, Germany, Italy, Japan and Spain, in which one-child families had become the norm, the quality of human capital was high, but the practice put the resident population at risk. Single-child families are naturally prone to extinction. A single child replaces one of his or her parents, but not both.

For many years, world leaders had discussed warnings that the world’s supply of oil was finite. However, even though people were well aware that the end was coming, few did anything about it. In fact, coupled with a ballooning population, worldwide demand for oil was outpacing worldwide production. At first oil prices skyrocketed and then oil-dependant economies begin to feel the pinch and multi-national corporations got on the bandwagon and promised their shareholders they would do something about it. Whatever that something was to be, however, did not happen. The second blow to civilization, the killing blow, was the terrorist attack on oil facilities.

No one had ever given the terrorist’s responsible for the September 11, 1991, attack on buildings in the US credit for accomplishing so much with so little. The outcome was, among other things, a war, economic problems and thousand killed in a number of Muslim countries. Those wishing to complete the effort the so-called 9/11 terrorists started had learned, though. The next assault was not only multi-faceted but also extremely well planned.

The first signs of trouble were the explosions that took out the three largest oil refinery and production facilities in Saudi Arabia. Instantly, in a flash of light that was seen more than a hundred miles away and heard more hundreds of miles further, the export terminals at Ras Tanura, Al Juaymah and Az Zuluf disappeared. At the same moment, although nobody was aware of the timing, the huge storage facility at Pittsburg, on California’s San Francisco Bay, also exploded. The tank farm made up of hundreds of huge storage structures, each holding 350,000 barrels of oil products, simply evaporated in a bright flash. Along with the facility, all structures within a ten-mile radius went too.

Numbers of other explosions set off at almost the same minute occurred at refineries or storage facilities in the Gulf of Mexico, the UK, Russia, France and a number of oil platforms located off the coast of Norway. The Petroline crude oil pipelines that ran from Abqaiq to Yanbu in Iraq, and carried 3.2 million barrels of crude per day, were quickly destroyed and smaller detonations at two pumping stations on Alaska’s Prudhoe Bay pipeline put that facility out of business.

One of the largest blows to the world’s oil industry took place in a waterway many people had never heard of; the Malacca Straits. More than 50,000 vessels per year transited the Straits, which is only slightly more than a mile wide at its narrowest point. Linking the Indian and Pacific Oceans, the Straits of Malacca was the shortest sea route between India, China and Indonesia … the world’s three largest populated countries. More than half of all the products shipped by sea worldwide traveled through this 621-mile passage. Eighty percent of Japan’s oil was shipped byway of this body of water. It was at this bottleneck that the terrorists struck.

The Strait, with it’s thousands of small islands, had been a haven for pirates for centuries. However, it wasn’t pirating that the terrorists had in mind when they took command of three VLCC (Very Large Crude Carriers) supertankers. Each was carrying between 250,000 and 500,000 tons of petrol products that were headed north through the narrows. Within minutes of the storage tanks in San Francisco bay blowing up, the three tankers collided and carefully placed quantities of explosive were detonated. The huge vessels erupted in a tremendous blast. The destroyed hulks were destined to remain where they settled blocking any future passage by other large carriers.

With all their planning the one thing the terrorists hadn’t counted on was the total impact their explosions would have on the world economy. Obviously they expected to cause major upheavals in the world their enemies lived in. The infidels were certain to learn the power of Allah. What they didn’t realize was the affect their attack would have on the entire world.

First the world powers with huge supplies of oil stored within their borders moved to protect those reserves. Countries in the far north under pressure of winter cold were the first to attempt to raid those storage facilities. The battles over stored oil ranged from large countries fighting off marauding raiders to neighborhoods without a petrol station on a corner fighting for the petrol in the tanks of the next station two blocks over. The first winter without oil and gas deliveries brought war to many parts of the world above the 45th Latitude. By the end of the next summer, few countries and all peoples could be found that had not suffered from oil-seeking raiders.

As oil supplies disappeared, wars of aggression gradually died out. There was little left to fight for and it had become physically impossible to put an army into the field. However it proved to be too late. While the battles had raged, entire populations disappeared. The leaders in what once were called Third World countries believed they saw an opportunity to rise in power. Those with biological or chemical missiles in their arsenal used them. The few with nuclear weapons retaliated, making huge sections of Europe, China and Indonesia uninhabitable. The number of people killed worldwide was horrendous. By the time the last battle over the dwindling oil supply ended nobody could tell how many people were left alive. There was no longer any communication between countries, no bureaucracies left to conduct the head count.

As time passed, evidence of the once mighty civilization faded, disappearing as Mother Earth reclaimed herself.

Part I

Chapter 1

Unmoving, almost not breathing, he waited. Sooner or later, someone would come and he wanted to see whoever it was before he was seen.

He had stopped instantly when he first heard the heavy breathing. Frozen in his tracks, Rory stood for a long time letting his eyes search the area for the source of the sound. A tall man standing well over six feet, he was physically in his prime, his movements in all things smooth and purposeful. His clothing was made of well-worn buckskin that had worn to a thin suppleness. The color of his pants and tunic were naturally mottled shades of browns, and blacks that helped him almost disappear when standing motionless. A slender man, his full head of black hair tied at the back to keep it clear of his eyes. Finally, not seeing anything out of place and moving very slowly, he took a quiet step. Bringing his bow up with an arrow already nocked in the bowstring, he paused once again.

Suddenly, exhaling with a cough, a big buck deer lunged up from behind a huge fallen log a few yards away and in a single jump was out of sight in the forest. Silence once again fell over the woodland. The hunter did not move. The arrow sticking out of the animal’s shoulder wasn’t his. Somewhere there was another hunter. Unhurriedly, making no quick movements, he settled down beside the log and relaxed. Either the owner of that arrow would be along following the wounded deer or he wouldn’t. If the buck had escaped his killer, Rory would follow it up and take the kill. Whichever happened, waiting could only be to his advantage.

Movement from his right caught his attention. Silently, almost ghostlike, a man came slowly through the trees scanning the forest around him before taking the next step. Rory waited and watched. Coming to a patch of sunlight, the man hurried across the little opening in a single bound, giving Rory time for a good look at him. Dressed in worn leather pants and tunic just as Rory was, he almost disappeared into the shadows. From his deliberate movements, with his cloth-covered bow at the ready it was clear he was searching for the wounded deer. Keeping him in view, Rory waited and watched.

The buck must have left a blood trail behind for the newcomer slid noiselessly but purposefully from one patch of shadow to another coming toward the fallen log. Rory kept his attention on the hunter and to make his movement as non-threatening as possible, slowly stood up. The hunter instantly froze, staring at Rory. Raising his arm to point the way the buck had disappeared, Rory was startled when an arrow came out of the woods and pinned his arm to the tree he had been using to hide behind.

Reacting without thinking, Rory fell back and tearing the arrow free. In a crouch, he quickly moved back and away from the oncoming hunter. Ducking first one way and then the other he ran, putting some distance between him and his attackers. Finally, spotting a deadfall to the side, he crawled out of sight and lay still. Quickly feeling his arm he found that the arrow had torn a hole in his shirtsleeve but had missed his arm.

Damme, boy, now we’ve lost him, a low voiced growl caused Rory to hold his breath. Whoever his pursuers were, they were too damn close. Why in the hell didn’t you wait until you had a clear shot? By now he’s half way across the valley and probably still running.

I couldn’t wait, Rabbit, the answering voice was almost a whine. I saw him move sudden-like and thought he was going to shoot you. I had to take the shot I had.

The second man, more a youngster that a man, stepped around a tree holding a short, stubby bow, an arrow half drawn back. Scanning first one way and then the other and not seeing anything, he relaxed and turned to look at the older man. Turning to look over his shoulder, his voice strengthened.

He coulda killed you, you know, he said almost angrily. I watched him. He was waiting for you and you didn’t see him. I tried to catch your attention to let you know where he was, but you were so busy tracking that damn buck you didn’t know he was even there, did you?

The older man came up beside the boy and after searching the ground for any sign, frowned. Yeah, you did what you had to do, but damme, Karl, now we got us a problem. Roland told us to spy out how close we were to that village and not let anyone see us. Now they’ll be ready.

Well, it wasn’t my shot at that deer that missed, now was it? Why in the hell did you even think we needed the meat? And you give me shit for missing my target. I swear, that old buck was a lot bigger than that guy what was hunting you.

Yeah, all right. We gotta figure out what to do now, the man named Rabbit said, still looking around watchfully. I guess what we’d better do is forget that buck and do what we was told. That village Tracker said he remembered has got to be a bit more to the south. Let’s get out of here.

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away through the trees, the youngster right behind him.

Rory rested, catching his breath. The nearest village was his own, called Agriaria, and from their talk, that was what the two men had been sent out to scout. That meant that a band of raiders were somewhere in the area. He would have to give warning.

First he wanted to do what he could to discourage this Rabbit and his partner before they got the information they were after. Scrambling out of his hiding hole, he brushed off his clothes and, after checking his bowstring and making sure he still had his quiver of arrows, set off. Just as he would when stalking deer or any other animal, he moved from tree to tree, shadow to shadow, following the way the men had gone.

The sun had been well past its peak when the big buck had broken out of its hiding place. Now the afternoon shadows were starting to lengthen as he carefully searched the forest floor ahead. They thought he had kept running and wouldn’t expect him to be hunting them. That did not mean they would relax, though. Men didn’t live long in the forests if they forgot just how dangerous the woods could be.

Rory had live in the forest soon after reaching puberty. That was the age when boys left the school at the village Retreat and either went to work on one of the farms or apprenticed to one of the village’s craft guilds. It was also the first time the boys qualified for being chosen for a Marriage Event. This affair was for some, the high point of the year. Held at the end of summer so any babies born as a result would come into the world the next spring. To be chosen was every boy’s hope. None of them really knew what took place during the two days and three nights the selected few spent in the Nunnery, but to be passed over was nearly impossible to bear. For some reason, Rory hadn’t been singled out either of the two times he was eligible. Knowing he would never experience the secrets of the Event, he decided not to make his living in the village. He had become a hunter.

Taking up with a hunter named Brantson, Rory had quickly learned how to live outside the protection of the village green. For the most part, the forested wilderness was peaceful and rarely did a hunter run into anyone. In the years it took to be trained on how to become successful in the hunt, he had learned to take pleasure in the solitude of the woodlands. Spending as little time as he could in the confines of the village meant he rarely if ever saw anyone other than Brantson. No matter what he had missed out on, any desires he might have had, desires he didn’t understand, could be ignored. Supplying the village with wild game was the price he paid to be allowed to live a solitary life. Since the death of his teacher, lost while attempting to cross a winter storm-flooded river, he had gone on completely alone. Now, still a young man of about 25 years, he had learned the lessons well. One of the most important that Brantson had taught was to always be on the alert. It was the out of the ordinary things that could kill you. That was what he planned to do to those two raiders; something out of the ordinary.

Bands of marauders were not that common. When a group of outsiders or, as they were often called, raiders, were discovered or made a raid, the punishment was usually swift. In the world Rory lived, people either worked together or perished. By necessity punishment for breaking society’s rules was quick and sure. The basic idea was that any man who lived within the society and obeyed its rules could live peacefully. Show distain for that society, though, and society had little patience. Raiders were hated and hunted and quickly hung.

It was the whining voice of the young raider that alerted Rory. He couldn’t make out the words, but the harsh sound carried. Changing direction, he angled uphill from where he thought his quarry was. Moving with great caution, and listening to the argument that was going on between the two men, he circled around until he was ahead of them. Finding a small open place in the trees, he picked a tall pine tree to one side to stand beside. Sticking two barbed arrows in easy reach in the dirt in front of him, he nocked a third and waited.

Karl, for god’s sake, will you shut up? It ain’t late enough to start looking for a hidey-hole yet. We can still make some distance. Damme, but you’d think you was starving to hear you piss and groan, Rabbit’s voice cut into the bellyaching of his trail partner. Now shut up and keep up.

The stocky man’s eyes combed the opening before, with only a slight hesitation; he led the way out of the trees. The little meadow was large enough that before he made it across, the youngster was just out in the open. At the first sign of movement, Rory had pulled his arrow back and aiming at the older man’s body waited. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other one step into the sunlight. Releasing his arrow, he grabbed a second shaft and nocking it, pulled back and without aiming let fly.

His first arrow took the older man in the chest, knocking him around and off his feet. The boy, seeing his partner go down, froze for a brief second and then dropped. Rory’s second arrow tore though his meaty upper thigh as he fell.

Slowly, listening to the boy’s pain-filled yelp, and with his third arrow pulled back and ready, Rory circled around the opening. Once he could see that Rabbit wasn’t moving he stepped out of the cover of the trees.

The wounded youngster wasn’t where he had fallen.

Moving in a crouch, Rory ran to the older man’s body and dropped flat. Waiting a minute, he slowly raised his head and examined the trees where the boy had had to have gone. Nothing moved. A quick look at the man called Rabbit and Rory knew his shot had been good. The arrow had been driven through his body and the barbed iron point was sticking out the other side a full hand’s width. Rabbit was dead.

Keeping a watchful eye on the surrounding forest, Rory quickly gathered up the dead man’s weapons. Cutting the man’s leather belt, he grabbed a quiver of arrows and a sheathed knife and then picking up the longbow from where it had landed, moved back into the protection of the dark forest.

Not taking time to inspect his trophies, he moved up the slope, running as silently as a sun-chased shadow. Finally stopping, he hunkered down in a small depression and listened. Nothing. The wounded boy had made good his escape. Rory thought about tracking him, but decided it would be better to warn the village of the raiders.

Chapter 2

Diana, think long and hard, dear, before taking on this trip, the old woman standing on the sea wall warned her younger companion. The younger woman’s mind was clearly not on what the old woman was saying. This was the only time she would have to make sure everything was stowed properly on board the long sailing boat and she was oblivious to everything else. Most of the fishermen working on the other boats in the little harbor were too involved with making their own preparations. Only a few paid any attention to the tall dark-haired woman as she checked and then checked once again the loading of the big, tall masted boat.

Thick fog that had been hanging over the mountaintops on the other side of the inner sea was starting to recede. Warmth from the morning sun made the work along the docks a lot easier. Laughter and loud jokes shared by men doing what they enjoyed filled the harbor.

Wanting to catch the tide, she was paying more attention to the loading of the horses than to the words of the old crone. A dozen of the small beasts were being led one at a time down the gangplank and tied in the individual stalls that took up most of the broad deck. To make the job easier, the horse’s heads had been covered with sacking. Blind, they allowed themselves to be led. This was not a new experience for the most of the small herd, but for one, a tan and white pinto, the sounds and smells were strange and scary. Pulling against the lead rope, she had set her hooves a number of times causing the woman leading the mare to lose patience. Hearing the hollow clopping when her hooves hit the plank between dock and boat was the final straw. The pinto wasn’t taking another step.

Interrupting the old woman with a wave of one hand, she jumped off the sea wall and using the sharp point of her dagger, jabbed the pinto’s broad rear. Surprised, the horse jumped away and on board.

This one will cause trouble, Cora, the woman who had been leading the pinto said. Maybe she should be taken off and replaced with one of the older nags.

There isn’t time. I want to be out of the Inner Sea before the sun gets to its mid-day height. She’ll settle down, once we get out of the harbor and things get quiet.

Climbing back to the wall, she continued to interrupt the old woman’s talk with commanding motions and yelled words as the last of the boarding was taken care of. Finally when everything was as she wanted it, she turned to face the old woman.

Why, she asked, thinking about her earlier words. Why should this trip be any different than the others? We’ve got a full moon to sail under and this time of year, the currents are flowing north. What is behind your warning?

The old woman had been a part of Diana’s household since she first gained her strength as a businesswoman. A good looking woman by any account, her body’s wide hipped and firm breasted was the envy of other women and looked upon with lustful eyes by most men. However nature had played a terrible trick in giving her a body that was made for childbearing – it turned out that she was barren. Young women, unlike their male counterparts, were not limited to the number of Marriage Events they could take part in. After all, that was the whole point, wasn’t it, to have as many babies as possible. In the memory of the village’s oldest living woman there had never been a time when there were anywhere near enough girl babies born. For some unknown reason, only about one out of ten newborn infants were female. Usually a woman unable to bear children was destined to spend her life in one of the Nunneries caring for the very young, teaching the few girls living in those confines or possibly serving at a Retreat. Diana, however, had chosen to take a different path. With the favor of the then leader of the Polestero Retreat, the richest of all such facilities from the Inner Sea north to the Great River, from the great sea to the Dividing Mountains, she had became a deliverer.

No one knew for sure, but there was thought to be no more than a double handful of villages anywhere within a five-day walk from the biggest one, the Polestero Village. A few of the smaller communities had better luck in the number of girl babies born. Again, no one knew why, it was just so. The overriding village society had evolved to take advantage of it being male oriented. Villages prospered by being able to be self-sufficient. Any excess of whatever a village produced was sold at the twice-yearly markets, bringing in a profit that was in the form of goods not available there. The markets, held at Polestero Village, were also a time for any village Nunnery with a surplus of girl babies or children to share the bounty. That part of the trading was done by the leaders of the village’s and held behind closed doors. Few villagers were aware of this part of the exchange. In other times, when a Nunnery had too many girls of childbearing age to maintain a village’s balance, those girls were distributed to villages with too few. Making those deliveries was Diana’s business.

The old woman, looking old and bent while the younger one stood tall and firm, also knew her own fate. Attaching herself to the young businesswoman she had taken on the job of personal advisor. Lately, however, it seemed that Diana had stopped listening, especially when the warnings could not be backed up. To simply say that the weather signs were against going out onto the deep waters wasn’t enough. Diana could look at the same weather indicators and see what she wanted to see, blinded, her advisor thought, by the expected profits to be made.

This trip to deliver a clutch of young girls to Brother Calesephus was, Diana argued, important. Traders from across the Dividing Mountains were making a late season journey. Part of her success lie in the fact that she always delivered on time.

It is later in the season than I normally sail, she said, agreeing with the old woman. But if I go by horse, I could be too late. Those coming across the Dividing Mountains have winter weather to contend with. Thank you for your concern, Grandmother, she smiled, hoping the use of the honor-name would soften her words, but I’ve a good boat and an experienced crew. We’ll be all right.

Brother Calesephus’ Polestero Retreat was located in a mountain valley inland a day’s march from the coast and about half the distance north to the Great River. It was possible to make the journey using the ancient’s pathway, up the broad valley to the low mountains and on to the high mountain valley that protected the Retreat. This, an almost reverent journey for most people, took two and, depending on the weather, even three weeks on horseback.

For the adventurous who could afford it, the trip up the coast by boat to the third Little River and then overland took only three or four days. She felt her reputation called for her to take the more speedy means. To make the delivery and earn her pay meant speed as well as stealth. Transporting young girls unseen and safely took secrecy and cunning.

The winds may still be blowing along with the currents, her advisor muttered, her voice low and almost lost coming from her bowed head, the winter change is coming.

Gray streaked brown hair hung uncombed from her head that was bent so looking at the sky was not possible. The old woman’s back was curved as if she carried the weight of all sins on her shoulders. Even so, if one were able to see her eyes, they would be seen to hold a sparkle of a girl a third her age. Trouble will follow you on this trip, she muttered, knowing her words would go unheeded. I can’t see from where that misfortune comes, but it is there.

Knowing that her advice came from both knowledge and wisdom as well as some inner source made it hard for Diana to overlook the warning. The old woman often was able to see things other could not. Too often in the past this had saved Diana losses; the words of advice were not to be taken lightly. She felt this trip, however, could not be put off. The young girls were on board and a request from someone such as Brother Calesephus could not be denied.

Brother Calesephus, himself not a young man, had replaced Foster the Elder upon the old man’s death. Having been familiar with Foster and having made five or six deliveries to that exalted Retreat before had almost assured the success of doing business with them. The difference in leadership for the Retreat located in the largest village in the land didn’t really change anything. In fact if anything, business got better. His request was for a delivery of at least a dozen suitable girls every full moon during the north-sailing season. Trade with communities on the far side of the Dividing Mountains was good. Trade goods from those people were bringing in new and unusual things. Things the villages on this side were unable to produce. Every one was aware it was late in the season, but there was still time to make one more trip before the winter currents and winds changes. There would be shelter in a number of places on the return trip.

Diana’s vessel was strongly built; a master craftsman at his shop up river from the harbor had done the joinery and pegging. While the forces of the ocean outside the mountains that ringed the Inner Sea were strong beyond belief, the boat cut through even the roughest waves smoothly, turning the sea foam cleaning to each side.

Forty feet long and half that broad at the beam, the single-mast carried a huge triangular sail that allowed the long bowsprit to speed over the sharp keel ends of the bow. Cabins below the flat deck gave space for crew quarters forward of the pair of swing dagger boards which hung aft of the mast-foot. Aft, and between those dagger boards, used to counterbalance the pull on the sail when beating to windward were the cabins used to house the girls. Above and at the very stern was cabin space set aside for use of the owner. The vessel was better built and faster in the water than any of the more common boats used by fishermen.

Leaving the Inner Sea and entering the wildness of the ocean itself was best done under the rising full moon. This trip, however, starting so late in the season would begin with the tidal change at mid-day. For the next three nights the moon would give mariner’s light to fish by, and Diana light to sail north by.

It was the second morning’s sunrise that brought the first sign of the storm. The heavy black cloudbank that hovered on the horizon made sunrise an hour or more late. Once the sun ended the darkness, it soon became clear that the storm was chasing the vessel. Shortening sail early after the noon meal kept the boat’s stern from being picked up and tossed ahead. Double tying the horses in their stalls and wrapping sacking around their eyes, Diana took time to give a calming talk to the young girls huddled below decks before hurrying back on deck, ordering the sail to be lowered and secured. The wind had increased to the point