THE LONE HAWK

EVOLUTION

EVOLUTION

"Why there?" asked the boy.

The old man with the straw hat glanced over and gave him a wink.

"Well son, it's Redova Canyon. The best goddamn place in the world," he said, a toothpick dangling from his mouth.

"When are we going?"

"Very soon. As soon as I get the truck working again," said the old man. "Hey, can you fetch me a match?- we needa make a fire before it's turned dark."

The boy frowned and went around the hut. Greasy bags and expired foods filled the air with a musty odor. They always kept it in the back of the hut. The box lay on the floor, with more than half of the matches gone, and the rest were an ashy black. Sighing, he picked up the two that were left and jammed them into his pocket.

When he opened the door with a creaky noise, he heard a faint scuffle. Cocking his head back, he saw a tiny creature with a bulging head, fairly sharp claws, and buck teeth sticking out. Both of their faces locked and they tilted both their heads to the side.

The gopher scampered away with a rope and bag attached to his tail, carrying a various assortment of leaves, dirt, and seeds. The boy shook his head, trying to forget this hallucination. But still he saw the bag bouncing over boulders and patches of grass and disappearing in the distance.

Now, the boy wobbled back into the old man's hut, his eyes wild and his head still shaking.

"What happened? Seen a ghost?" asked the man, staring outside.

"There was a gopher..a..and it was..." started the boy.

"Well, tell me now! We don't got all day!"

"The gopher had a big sack on him and he was running with stuff in it!" blurted the kid, as he tossed the match to the old man.

The old man raised an eyebrow, chuckled, and grunted as he sat back in his chair.

"You sure do have quite the imagination," he exclaimed.

The boy stood, his hands crossed and his eyes narrow.

"Ok, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I was only kidding, son," replied the old man. He began looking out the rotting window smelling of sulfur.

Both watched as a hawk swooped over to the ground, slowly descending and spinning slowly to a stop, making a perfect helicopter landing, but silent. Its sharp eyes made the boy shiver for a second.

The same gopher was back at it again, but this time, the hawk saw him as well. Barely making an audible noise above the sound of natural rustling leaves in the wind, the hawk flapped up and sat on the branch of a tree.

The oblivious gopher never knew what hit him. As the little boy, with his mouth open, watched in horror, the hawk grabbed the gopher, and stabbed it tens of times, the body twitching. Scarlet oozed and flowed out the body, and the hawk mercilessly attacked the squeaking gopher. Halfway through its third cry for help, all sounds in the world came to a bizarre halt.

"That's a front row seat on the beauty of nature, kid," said the old man.

He shifted back in his chair, and cleared his throat.

"Look, I've been trying to hide it, but it's become more apparent that..." said the man gravely, "it's too obvious now."

"Well what is it?"

"After the pandemic, the Manhattan Projects Phase 2, and a lot of time," continued the man , "these guys have been getting smarter."

"But we only see a few animals. Only like gophers, hawks, snakes, and maybe coyotes or-"

"That's because they're the only ones who lived, who made it out," interrupted the old man.

The kid shrinked back, and started listening intentively.

"That's called natural selection."

They both looked back at the scene and the hawk. It was staring at them both with his bloody beak. Yet he went away, flying away with the motionless gopher in one talon and the bag it carried in the other.

"They've evolved."