The Xy Syndrome

By Gary M. Roberts

A plane crash is only the beginning for a young doctor, Ray Butler. He must now face another crash of worldwide proportions as ninety-five percent of the male population has suddenly and inexplicably died. Now, unbeknownst to Ray, those who have survived have become a highly prized endangered species.

He soon befriends a young woman and together they seek help in a nearby small town. Instead of help they find themselves in a battle with a town of women who are determined to hold Ray and the other men in what they call protective custody. Ray, and the other captives must now rely on a young girl he has only known a short time to help them escape or they will be destined to live their lives as caged breeding stock.

First in a series of a spine-tingling story about society in chaos and a different battle of the sexes where men are viewed as the weaker sex.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gary M. Roberts
• Release date: Oct 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370440948

Gary M. Roberts

Dr. Gary M. Roberts has been a pastor and teacher for over thirty years. Besides writing, he has also been a law enforcement officer for almost forty years. He has earned a Masters Degree in Education, a Doctorate in Theology and numerous awards and certifications in law enforcement as well as for teaching. He and his wife live on a farm just outside of Savannah Georgia. His hobbies are writing, fishing and horses.

Book preview

The

Xy Syndrome

Gary M. Roberts

Country Writes Publishing Company

Dedicated to my wife, Carol,

our children and Lucy

Copyright © 2018 Gary M. Roberts

All rights reserved.

Country Writes Publishing

https://countrywrites.com

Prologue...

Between the heat, the noise and her husband yelling, Becky thought she was going to lose her mind. The little two-bedroom trailer was like an oven, baking and broiling the occupants inside and making the air stifling and thick. Tensions were running high as the noonday temperature increased. She did not know which was worse, the television blaring or the clothes dryer screaming. The dryer had been a nice gift, but it was easy to tell why their neighbor had parted with it. The older woman was so pleased with herself when she offered it. Becky almost laughed when the woman said in a quick chirpy voice, I’m glad to help out those less fortunate than me, then added, I think that is what folks ought to do, and I just guess I’m one of those giving people. It had been a nice gesture, but the machine squeaked constantly with an ear-piercing cry as though it were in agony, making one wonder if it was worth using at all. With the noise and the summer heat, the little mobile home had become a live-in torture chamber.

The little box fan at the front door was nothing but an illusion of hope. All it managed to do was blow the hot air around some, and suck in flies. It was no wonder little Mitch was crying. His little cheeks looked as if they had been rubbed raw with sandpaper from prickly heat. Becky tried to hush her baby by wiping him down with a cool, damp washcloth, but that only seemed to agitate him all the more.

Can’t you shut that kid up? Becky’s husband yelled over his shoulder from the living room. Me and Tony can hardly hear the game.

Becky shot him a glance and watched as he turned a beer can bottom up and swigged the last few drops with a triumphant belch at the end.

And while you’re at it, fetch me and Tony another cold one.

As much as she had first loved her husband, she had now come to despise him. They had been married less than two years, but in that time he had more than once slapped her around for almost any reason, and the mental abuse hardly ever stopped. The abuse was always worse when Mitch was drinking and had his friend over.

Both her husband and his friend spent most of their time off from work sitting around sipping beer and watching the game; Mitch in the easy chair and Tony on the couch; both wearing shorts and shirtless.

From the first time she met her husband's friend, Becky decided she did not like him. She did not like the way he looked at her when Mitch wasn't watching – she did not like the way he came over every weekend and – she did not like the way she was expected to wait on him. She figured he mostly hung out with Mitch because they fed off each other. Tony needed a friend and Mitch needed someone to look up to him. Mitch liked having a yes man around and Tony was one of the few people who could tolerate being with her arrogant husband for any length of time. Probably the biggest thing that bothered Becky about Tony was his snickering though. He did not laugh like most people. His was more of a sneaky snicker, which he did often. The fact that he snickered every time Mitch yelled at her added to her dislike.

Little Mitch was crying again, and Becky thought that maybe if she fed him, he would settle down and take a nap. She started to take her son into the bedroom and do a quick breastfeed, but she was so sweaty she would have to bathe herself first, so she went to the refrigerator to grab a bottle she had stored up.

Where is my beer? Mitch yelled again.

She turned to tell him it was coming and saw that he was already up from his chair. She could also tell he was spoiling for another fight. Becky flinched, expecting him to come over and slap her across the back of the head the way he liked to do when he was drinking, but instead, to her horror, he headed for the playpen and little Mitch this time.

I thought I told you to shut this kid up! he yelled through clenched teeth, as he jerked up one side of the playpen.

Becky did not have much of a temper and would much rather give in than fight, but when she saw her husband lift one side of the playpen with her son it, then slam it to the floor, her temper shot up. Even though the baby was not hurt, it scared the toddler and he began screaming louder. Mitch lost control.

I told you to shut up, the man yelled, reaching for the baby again.

Mitch was a little over six-feet tall and outweighed his wife by nearly sixty pounds, but at that moment it meant nothing to Becky. In an instant she was on him and had pushed him halfway across the room, yelling all the time, Leave my baby alone!

As quick as she had been to attack, she was just as quickly overpowered. Mitch went straight to his favorite hold, grabbing her by the neck and forcing her up against a wall. Tony snickered.

Don’t you ever put your hands on me again, The words came out so forceful Becky could feel beer spit hitting her face.

This was when Becky did some of her best pleading. She was not a fighter and her husband knew it. Normally when things got to this level, she would whimper and apologize with downcast eyes. But this time was different. She did not beg. This time she did not look down, nor did she whimper. This time she kept her eyes fixed on his eyes and stood firm. She had surprised herself when she attacked and was suddenly feeling a surge of confidence, or was it just blind anger?

Take your hands off me, Becky said in a cool voice. A bead of sweat trickled down her red face and dripped off her chin.

Mitch was somewhat taken aback by his wife’s newfound voice. He released his grip and stepped back, looked at her a moment and wondered. This gave Becky even more courage. Rather than being a participant in the drama, Becky felt like she was watching from a distance as a scene from a movie was unfolding.

Keeping her eyes locked on his she swept back the lock of hair that had come lose from her ponytail. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and her breathing was deep and steady. Becky was not scared this time. She was mad and was actually anticipating the next move. At this point, she was ready for a fight if it came to it.

I don’t need this, Mitch finally said, taking a mock swing at her head with his hand. Becky did not turn or blink at the intimidating gesture. She continued to glare.

Mitch kept his eyes lock on her for a second longer, then turned away slowly. Reaching for his shirt and shoes he called to his friend, Come on, Tony, the air is better at the Malibu and it’s a lot quieter.

Tony snickered and agreed.

Becky watched as Mitch kicked the box fan from in front of the door and strutted down the front steps of the trailer with his sidekick close behind. In a second, they were in Mitch’s old truck and spinning up dirt as they headed to the bar.

She was relieved when she saw the truck go out of sight, leaving behind it a floating dust cloud that hung in the still, hot air. As she stood in the doorway watching, hoping he would just keep driving, she felt her arms and legs grow numb and she suddenly felt weak. When she was sure he was gone, Becky stumbled to where her son was and found the strength to gather him into her arms. Holding him tight she felt her own tears roll down her face onto the face of her baby.

Becky did not want to involve anyone else in her problem. She had married Mitch against the advice of her friends, and she swore it would be for better or worse. She had no idea how worse things could be, yet she was determined it was her problem and she would keep it to herself. Now, it was not a problem – it was a decision. She picked up the phone and dialed. As she waited for the call to go through, she wished her husband were dead – in fact, she wished all men were dead, with the exception of her grandpa, of course.

Hello, Grandpa, this is Becky.

Chapter One

Most commercial flights had been canceled for preventative measures, at least until the outbreak could be controlled. According to the news reports the sudden sickness had become catastrophic over a matter of just days and was now worldwide. Officials were uncertain if it was some sort of new virus or possibly even a biological weapon. A special report from the office of the Surgeon General confirmed that whatever it was, it was highly contagious, especially to older men. There had been some deaths attributed to it, but people were told not to worry. Hospitals were doing all they could to treat those who were infected, and a cure or vaccine was expected at any time.

Rumors on the web speculated that it was not a virus at all, but in fact, a biological weapon manufactured to seek out the male chromosome. They said that was why only men and male animals had been susceptible to the illness. Bloggers were buzzing about it, and many were calling it a conspiracy or worse, global warfare.

For Raymond Butler, it meant an almost missed trip home. Thankfully, being a new doctor and having a friend who owned a plane had some advantages. Once he called home and told his family of the canceled flights, they started working on a solution. It was not an hour later that his cell phone rang.

Hey, Ray it’s Tim’ay. Heard you had a bit of a problem. The high-pitched voice was a familiar one. An old friend from high school who had made it big in construction.

Hey, Timmy. Good to hear from you.

You too, my friend. Listen, I’ve got a plane that is right now at the Newark airport that I use to haul buyers and such. During this emergency, I've been making a few bucks hauling some wealthy people who could not get a commercial flight. It should be taking off in the next couple of hours. You’ve got a first-class seat if you want it.

How in the world did you get clearance? I heard everything was grounded except for emergency purposes.

Simple, Timmy laughed. I agreed to haul some precious cargo… a doctor. Once I told them I was flying in a disease specialist they had no problem with it. It also gives me an opportunity to fly some fat wallets for a good profit. I make money, free flight for you – win, win.

But, Timmy, I’m not a disease specialist, Ray objected. my specialty is internal medicine.

Yeah, well, close enough. The plane is at C terminal, gate eight.

Ray hurried through the crowded terminal, bypassing long lines of people and ignoring yells and complaints. He was surprised to see that gate eight was vacant except for a young woman standing behind a podium at the entrance. She was tall and slender, wearing a blue blazer and seemed preoccupied with some papers.

Miss, I was told to come to gate eight for a flight to Savannah Airport.

She looked up and forced a smiled. Do you have a boarding pass?

He handed her his papers, which she glanced at and handed back. Your pass is for terminal A, a commercial flight. This is a private flight.

I know, but a friend of mine said my name would be on the list. Could you check? My name is Dr. Raymond Butler.

Hearing that the young woman looked up for the first time, Oh, Doctor Butler, yes. You’ve already been cleared for this flight. She said, shuffling through the papers and handing him an envelope with a smile. Here are your new papers so you won’t have any problems at Savannah-Hilton Head International.

Ray thanked her, grabbed his bag and quickly made his way to the plane. When he stepped through the door, he was greeted by another young woman in a blue blazer who showed him to his seat. The plane was smaller than anything he had ever been on, carrying twenty passengers at the most, with one seat on each side of the aisle. From his seat, he could see the prop on the left wing and remembered his friend telling him it was a twin turboprop.

The stewardess took his backpack and put it the seat across from him and strapped it in with the seatbelt. "We don’t