The EXXtinction: The Only Hope for Man is a Woman

By J. A. Antonio

This is an epic novel of a fight for the survival of a species, mankind as we know it. A tale of a father’s love for his daughter and his battle to prepare her to take on the leadership role of a lifetime, to become the head of the rebellion against the Queen whose sole purpose in life is the extermination of all men.

In a cataclysmic occurrence known as the “The Event”, the Queen starts a vicious civil war that reduces the male population by half. With help from her Amazon Super Warriors and the creation of a subliminal communication device she takes over the minds of women throughout the nation and they begin a mass genocide.

Queen Estevez theorizes that all women will take action against men. That is not the case. She underestimates the strong connections and bonds amongst men and women. The wonderful relationships that exist between husbands and wives, fathers and daughters, brothers and sisters, they become the very foundation of the rebellion.

Due to a combination of circumstance and ability Noah, Talayeh’s father finds himself smack in the middle of the resistance, sacrificing himself to increase their chances of survival. His actions plant the seeds of hope in Talayeh’s mind that would eventually turn the tide. Surviving the Queen’s death squads is the first obstacle; surviving each other is the next. Like a Queen Bee Estevez believes that she and her sisters shall inherit the earth.

The only hope for man is a woman.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. A. Antonio
• Release date: Feb 20, 2018
• ISBN: 9780692949955

Book preview

Prologue

Beginning of the End

There is a war being waged. We don’t understand how big it is, or who it’s against. My name is Noah, and I died three months ago. Death isn’t as finite as it would seem; it was just the beginning. It gave me the uncanny ability to transcend reality and tell this story. I was one of the few who survived the initial attack many referred to as The Event. I inevitably joined the rebellion. The United States of America was involved in a bloody civil war that eventually leads to worldwide conflict. We were the first to fall, due to our overwhelming sense of confidence.

Twenty-five years before my death, I was a third-grade teacher in Liberty City. Ten years before that my father died in the rabies epidemic, which wiped out 50 percent of the world’s male population. The virus had somehow evolved to attack certain genetic codes associated with the Y chromosome, becoming a disease that infected males, those who were not immune to it; females did not suffer from this pathogen. It killed its host within forty-eight hours, but not before it turned its victims into raging lunatics who attacked only other uninfected males.

There were two possible outcomes from an attack. Those who were bitten became frenzied beasts, or they were immune. In that case, the infected and crazed continued to bite and tear until the immune were torn apart. In either scenario, victims met a horrible end. Hordes of the infected wiped out entire male populations of towns and cities. They eventually met their end in global clashes and with the advent of a vaccine—but it may have been too late.

Surviving that apocalyptic incident scarred me. I watched my father, who was immune, meet his end. It was traumatic, but he gave his life to ensure that I, a scrawny teenager at the time, survived. The worldwide ratio of women to men now is roughly seventy-five to twenty-five.

Years after my father’s death and I’d grown and become a teacher, I’d walk up and down the aisles of my classroom wondering what would happen to my male students. My best-performing boys couldn’t compete with my worst-performing female students. I saw the frustration in their faces. No matter what I did to help, the trend continued.

The definition of being a man has changed dramatically. Women dominate the workforce, practically eliminating gender-associated identities. Government programs that were created to increase male populations globally seemed to have had the inverse effect for Americans. Here, females outnumber males five to one. One would think men would be a highly regarded commodity, but our status has been reduced to being mere sperm donors with the government mandating our participation in reproductive programs. A strict caste system has developed where men in America are treated as second-class citizens. Proposals have even been presented to Congress that actually strip away men’s right to vote.

Once a pendulum swings one way for a long time it gains momentum. As soon as the inertia subsides, it moves the other direction. Its force cannot be stopped so easily.

Over thousands of years of evolution, males became bigger, stronger, and faster. We became the hunters, providers, and protectors for our species. This placed us in a perceived dominant position, which created a need to have men around. With the elimination of these roles, the concept of being a man has essentially been erased.

Freud theorized that human decision-making is subconsciously based on the drive to procreate. Karl Marx stated that the history of all existing societies is the history of class struggles. Darwinian processes are inescapably applied to social constructs. This made the next step of human evolution a focal point of extensive debate among pundits and our educational elite. What will be the next evolutionary step for Homo sapiens?

This question ignites a profound interest as to what that next step will entail. These theorists never realized that our next progression in human evolution would be extinction—the extinction of a sex.

Chapter 1

Societal Decay

As I stand here contemplating a life without my mother, the pastor finishes her sermon. As we say goodbye to a wonderful mother, wife, sister, and daughter, her only son, Noah, will carry the light of her torch onward. In the name of the mother Mary, may this angelic soul sit by you for eternity, amen.

It is April 21, 2025. Burying my mother is as painful as watching my father die ten years earlier. I truly believe she died of a broken heart. She loved my father dearly and the trauma of losing my father in the rabies epidemic destroyed her. She stood with me long enough to make sure I was okay to move on without her. My father would visit me in my dreams and my mother claimed the same. I must somehow believe she’s with him now. For devout Catholics, life after death is more than a simple notion, it is a belief. My mother and my father believed that the only way to go to heaven is to live a good and ethical life, and to complete the purpose God has given you to fulfill on Earth. Only then can you move forward.

My mother was a selfless woman, who became a warrior in my time of need.

My father charged into the horde of those infected by the rabies virus, which chased me as I ran away from them. He gave me the only avenue of escape. He sacrificed his own life to save mine. My mother aimed a semi automatic rifle, shooting the attacking frenzied from behind an outpost made of sand bags, plywood, and barbed wire. I made my way through a makeshift escape route. I looked up at my mother before I entered. I saw her as she exhaled a deep breath and pulled the trigger. She saved my father who was immune, the pain of being torn apart with a bullet through his cranium, her gift to him for a wonderful life. She never recovered; she was simply a shell of her former self. They were amazing parents despite our complex circumstances and I miss them terribly.

No one could really pinpoint where or when the rabies epidemic started, but it was April 12, 2015 when my father died, during the peak of the wave. The rabies epidemic decimated the world’s male population. America seemed to suffer the most. The days of a patriarchal society were over; matriarchal domination had begun. The void left by men was obviously filled by women–military, police, construction, and sports to name a few.

The government gradually ingrained itself in every aspect of citizen life, all the way down to reproductive rights. Several years after the epidemic many countries initiated voluntary reproductive programs to increase male birth rates. The United States mandated participation. Men all over the world became a commodity, but not here, not in America. While other countries saw success, our male population declined. Incarceration rates for males increased as well as mortality rates. What were we doing wrong? Heated debates trying to address that question as well as the notion that regarded males as a product of de-evolution took place. Many believed that we were unnecessary, a burden to society. The concept of male-female relationships became obsolete.

As I walk away from the funeral leaving my mother behind in the cold, hard ground, there was little to look forward to. Only a handful of people attended the funeral. Defeated and unsure I stroll into my apartment and prepare for a long arduous day at work tomorrow. I untie my tie and pull out a nice cold beer from the fridge. I lay down on my couch to watch some television. After my sixth bottle, I begin to doze off and start to hallucinate or at least that’s what I think it is, because it seems so real. I wake up in a lush green pasture, a field of beautiful flowers. While I walk, I close my eyes and feel the sun as its amber rays warm my face. A gentle breeze brushes against my famished skin and rejuvenates me. I am barefoot and as I walk I feel the moist grass collapse underneath my feet. I feel a presence far away. It looks like a couple holding hands - a man and a woman. They walk toward me. I can barely make out their faces, but they’re smiling. Eventually I can see who they are and I run to them like a puppy to his owner, Ma, Pa I have missed you so much! We embrace for a long time.

We miss you too, Noah, my mother responds.

Are you guys coming back home?

We can’t, Noah.

Why not, Mami?

We have to move on.

Can I come with you?

My father answers, It’s not your time yet Noah.

Is this a dream? I ask.

Well, sort of. We are in a place of spiritual refuge. We’ve come to say goodbye for now. But before that we want to warn you, my father says.

I don’t understand, Pa.

There’s a storm coming and you have to brave it, son.

Why can’t I just go with you?

Because you are the father of the Savior, my father says.

Savior, like Jesus Christ?

Something like that, but it’s a girl. She will be your amber ray of light. Humanity’s amber ray of light, my father explains.

How can this be? I don’t even have a girlfriend.

My mother and father laugh. My dad places his callused hands on my shoulders and says, Son, as soon as you meet her you will know instantly.

She must be special.

She will remind you of me, son, my mother says playfully.

It’s time for us to go. my father softly articulates.

Can’t you stay a little longer?

Sorry, we can’t, my mother says smiling while shaking her head.

Our job here is done. Rest assured that we are happy and that you will make this damaged world a better place.

Please don’t go. As I reach for them, they begin to fade and I hear a faint beeping sound, which becomes a loud irritating repetition and I wake. It’s my alarm. It is time to go to work. I stumble out of bed and put on a button-down shirt and a pair of slacks and rush to elementary school number 13. The school is located in the heart of Liberty City, part of the largest city on the East Coast. I run past rows of yellow buses parked along the street and get to my third-grade class. The students are seated and ready to go.

Good morning, Mr. Rodriguez, the class of thirty students state in unison.

Good morning class. Please turn to page 200 on your laptops in the unit where mathematics meets science.

My class consists of 25 girls and five boys. Two are absent for fighting during recess, which resulted in a ten-day suspension. Pretty harsh in my book but there is a zero-tolerance policy at the school. After class, I am summoned to the principal’s office. My union representative, the vice principal, and the principal are already seated at the conference table. I already know what this is about.

Principal Winslow states in her irritating raspy and nasal voice, Mr. Rodriguez, please have a seat.

Thanks, Ms. Winslow. Sorry I was late today. I just returned from my mother’s funeral.

She remains silent. Doesn’t even acknowledge my loss. What a bitch!

My union representative, Anna, chimes in, Your lateness and other concerns are the reason why we are here.

Anna, this is the first time this year that I have been late. Did I mention I just buried my mother?

With little emotion Anna responds, Sorry to hear that, Noah.

Vice Principal Kelly says, While we respect your personal concerns, this is a matter of serving our students. You have been causing quite the uproar with your water cooler antics and questioning of decisions regarding our discipline policies.

I quickly counter, With all due respect the discussions revolve around our students and the data doesn’t lie. Our boys are suspended at triple the rate of our female students and receive harsher consequences for committing similar offenses. We have to find a way to keep them in school without suspending them.

In a more aggressive tone, Ms. Kelly responds, Mr. Rodriguez, that is a discussion for our administrators, not you.

If it concerns my students, it concerns me.

No need to be so aggressive, Noah, my useless union representative states.

No one is being aggressive, I just simply disagree. By the way, Anna, aren’t you supposed to represent me?

It’s kind of hard to do so if you’re having a tantrum.

Snapping my head back and cringing in confusion, I repeat, Tantrum?

Yes, Mr. Rodriguez, tantrum. We need you to calm down.

I am calm.

Mr. Rodriguez, I really don’t feel comfortable with your demeanor. You’re a man and I understand emotions can get the better of you, Principal Winslow adds with manufactured concern.

I don’t understand what you’re trying to do here, but it’s not okay.

Principal Winslow barks, Ms. Kelly, call security.

Yes, Ms. Winslow. Right away.

There’s no need for that, I’ll just escort myself out.

No, Mr. Rodriguez, please remain seated. Ana says extending both hands, with palms facing me as if she was trying to calm an angry student. Now I see what’s happening and it’s not good.

Ms. Kelly runs out of the conference room and calls out to Craig, our only male security guard. He’s about six foot five and weighs three hundred pounds. He is a really nice guy. We would go out for drinks on occasion. He walks in barely fitting through the doorway.

Ms. Kelly states, Please escort Mr. Rodriguez to the security office and contact the police.

In a somber tone Craig responds, Yes, Ms. Kelly. Mr. Rodriguez, please come with me.

I shake my head in disbelief as I follow Craig. On our way to the security office I say, Craig, you know this is bullshit.

I know, Noah, but you have to learn to keep your mouth shut. You know these bitches run shit. It’s not the same anymore.

It’s not right, I’m tired of tucking my tail between my legs.

You need to learn or else things are just gonna get worse. The police are on their way. This is my Uncle Al’s phone number. He is a defense attorney. The union here don’t do shit. He specializes in the maltreatment of males. There is a whole industry for this. Sad, real sad, just do what the police say and you’ll be out in no time. Then we can meet for drinks again.

Thanks, man. I just don’t understand what this world is coming to.

A static-filled transmission comes in on Craig’s radio. Unit four from LCP is here, they’re headed to security now.

The police are here. Just keep your cool and keep your mouth shut. Simply ask for your one phone call.

The police come barging in with guns drawn, all of whom are women.

Put your hands up! one of the police officers demands.

Craig tries to calm the situation, Everything is under control, officer.

Step aside rent-a-cop. Let the real police handle this. one of the police officers says.

They grab me and throw me to the floor. They put their knees on my back and cuff me. It really wasn’t that serious.

When we arrive at the precinct two officers lead me away from the car in handcuffs as if I had killed someone. This charade is ridiculous. I’m thrown into my cell with no explanation or regard for my side of the story. I am forced to sit in a dilapidated cell with no bed, several inmates, and one toilet. It smells. I sit in a corner. I begin to doze off and I dream; I’m nine years old and I walk in on my parents arguing.

Michael, we have to go to the school and speak with his principal. This is the third time this week he’s come home with a bloody nose, my mother yells.

No, we will not. He needs to learn how to defend himself. He needs to fight back. my father responds.

Those kids are bigger than he is, we have to do something.

He’ll learn how I did. He must figure it out and stop with the video games and Kung Fu movies. That fake stuff won’t help him in the real world.

I’m going to say something. my mother insists.

You’re only going to make it worse.

My father was a complex man, who grew up with no father and fought in the Vietnam War. He earned two purple hearts and learned early on how to survive. He was fifty years old when I was born. A genetic freak of nature, he was still bench-pressing three hundred and fifteen pounds at that age. He was what you would consider old school. He was ten years older than my mother who led a more sheltered life. She worked part-time at a daycare. My father was a mechanic. We were what you would consider blue collar, the working poor who lived in a very rough industrial section of town.

My mother eventually went to the school and complained. It did no good. My father was right. It made things worse. I know they both loved me in their own way. To avoid that embarrassment again, I found alternate ways to get home in order to avoid further conflict with my tormentors.

I am suddenly startled and awakened by the acute banging of a nightstick against the iron bars.

Rodriguez! Are you ready for your phone call?

Groggy, I reply, Yeah.

I make my way through the maze of scattered and broken bodies. I dig in my back pocket and retrieve the number Craig gave me. I dial.

Schumer and associates, how may I help you? the receptionist says.

Can I speak to Al?

He’s in a meeting right now. Can I take a message?

I curl my neck in frustration. Sure, can you tell him that Noah Rodriguez called.

Absolutely sir, what is your dilemma?

I am incarcerated in the twentieth street precinct in the southward section of Liberty City. Can you please tell him I need his help?

Will do.

It looks like I am going to be here a while. The next day, while sitting in the same clothes, disheveled and peeved, there’s another knock on the prison cell.

Rodriguez, you have a visitor.

The visitors area contains two rows of cubicles facing each other with a large Plexiglas separating the two. I sit in cubicle three. There is a short, portly elderly man on the other side. I grab the phone and we begin to speak.

You must be Noah.

Yes. I need to get out of this place.

Yes, you’ll be out today. Craig told me what happened. It’s all nonsense. You should have thought twice about choosing a profession that was already dominated by women.

What difference does that make? All the professions are dominated by women anyway.

You’re right, it’s a different world, son, and these women have us by the balls. Talking about balls, have you donated your seed yet?

That’s what they’re calling it now? No, I don’t want to.

Well you’re gonna have to if you want to get out. They have nothing on you. These dummies couldn’t even tell me what the charges are. But anyone who finds their way here has to mandatorily donate.

That, my friend, is what you call an oxymoron.

Call it what you want, have it done as soon as you get back to processing.

Shit, I’ve never felt so violated in my life.

Get over it, it’s our new reality. I’ll meet you out front. I have also taken the liberty to obtain a court order for you to return to work. Your union is useless in case you haven’t realized that yet.

As I exit through processing, I am handed a plastic container by a very masculine female guard with a five o clock shadow. She follows me to the room and I turn to her.

Not for nothing, sweetheart, but I need some privacy.

She scowls at me with disgust and says, Make it quick if you don’t want me to assist–if you know what I mean. as she waves a syringe like contraption in her hand.

Talk about pressure; time to let my imagination get the best of me. After a few moments, I open the door with the container in hand. I give it to the guard and she smirks at me. Didn’t take very long. There is not much here.

Disturbed by her interest I answer, That’s all you’re getting. Please show me the way out of this place.

I head over to the front area and meet Al there. We exit and get into his black sedan. As we drive we strike a conversation.

"Noah, Craig had some