Human Nature

Author's note: This is one part of the Melted collection. These stories can be read individually or in any order.

Harlan was a hermit, but preferred the term solitudinarian. Some called him Sasquatch or even Bigfoot, but that was a bit offensive. Yes, he was over seven feet tall and yes, he was an exceptionally hairy man who lived in the woods of the Pacific Northwest. He was in harmony with the animals in the forest, but he was one hundred percent human. He just didn't care for any of the others. 

Human nature repulsed him. Their inherent wastefulness and hatred towards everything was palpable even at a young age. He despised watching his parents pile mountains of trash on the curb every week, never wondering where it went. Every day the news warned of a climate disaster, but nobody changed their destructive habits. People died in the streets, killing each other for no reason at all. Wars were fought over the pettiest issues. They argued and nitpicked the most pointless trivialities and never went outside. Not a single person bothered taking care of the planet. None of them seemed to care about anyone or anything but him or herself, others be damned. 

Is it any wonder Harlan felt suffocated and wished for an escape? On a family camping trip in his youth, he took his chance. Harlan disappeared into the woods and worked hard to stay lost. After a few weeks, the search was abandoned and Harlan was free to live in peace. He took nothing with him but the wilderness survival guide that his father had brought on their trip, and it was easy for him to forage for berries and tasty plants. A well-made slingshot allowed him to supplement his mostly vegetarian diet. A deep dry cave welcomed him home.

He did his best to stay out of sight, but there were rare occasions on which hikers caught a glimpse as he dashed to and from the stream behind his home. Some of these glimpses - termed sightings - became famous and cast an unwelcome spotlight on Harlan. He recognized the increased risk of being spotted when nearly all hikers had cameras in their pockets. He had to be more careful, he knew, but he had errands to run.

Harlan kept a diary, which was actually kept on the last blank page of the book he read that day. Harlan was not a busy man, so he read a book cover-to-cover each morning. Usually he read novels, but occasionally he stumbled upon nonfiction, children's picture books, books in foreign languages, and once, a thesaurus.

He frequently found books on the trails, but his favorite place to shop was the desolate donation center on the edge of town. Every few weeks, Harlan ran his errand to fetch new supplies. Under the cover of night, of course, he shambled down the hillside. The store kept the service door locked, but that was no problem. Harlan had acquired a lockpicking kit years ago. Inside the wonderland of the donation center, Harlan's heart leapt with glee. He haphazardly grabbed stacks and stacks of books, shoveling them into plastic "Thank You" bags. He doubted the center missed his selections out of the thousands of crinkled paperbacks. On his way out, Harlan would occasionally grab a fresh packet of pencils.

On his last visit to the donation center, Harlan stepped on an old newspaper as a warm winter breeze hustled it along the pavement. Between his enormous toes, he could read the headline that screamed:

Argentinian Zombies: What's the Truth?

Harlan scoffed at the sensational headline and dismissed the tabloid. He kicked the rag off his foot and spied another headline as it fluttered away:

Thwaites Glacier Melts, Revealing Billion-Year Old Algae - Exclusive Interview with Dr. Eleanor Lee

Back at home, the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon. The night had come and gone, so Harlan felt he might as well start his day. First things first: time for a book. He groped randomly in the bag and selected a hardcover copy of The Da Vinci Code in pristine condition. Over the years, he had acquired seven or eight copies of the title, but based on their condition, Harlan suspected that he was the only person who actually read it.

After Robert Langdon opened the cryptex - yet again - Harlan grabbed a pencil and began filling the endpaper.

Dear diary, he wrote.

I haven't seen anyone in the forest lately. "Trees're always a relief, after people." Usually, the air is alive with the tintinnabulation of hikers' black rectangles, their most prized possessions--

(Harlan knew perfectly well what a cell phone was, but he enjoyed posturing as a luddite to maintain his reputation. Not that anyone knew him.)

-- but today there is peace. Went shopping this morning and it's shaping up to be a most excellent day. The weather is quite warm. Unusual for mid-February! 

Of course he wore bear pelts. What else was he expected to wear in the winter? Today, however, he shed the fur and went au naturel in the unseasonably warm air. He continued:

Robert Langdon has inspired me. I am a good little monkey, but I am very curious. Will investigate the root of the quietude after lunch. 

Harlan, still undressed, crept down the steep hill and headed towards town. He hated the town, but his curiosity was overwhelming. Peering between two bushes at the edge of the forest, he saw the streets running red.

Bloodied bodies littered the streets and fights broke out everywhere. Unintelligible guttural screaming rose from the crowd of filthy humans, glaring at each other with dilated pupils. Punches landed and nails gouged. Everything was a tool. Red-faced people pounced on those that tried to run away. The sun was now high in the sky and the heat was unbearable. The stench of the half-cooked dead hung over the town in a fug.

Harlan spotted a newsstand behind a convenience store. Crouching low and holding his nose, he dashed to the stand, snatched up an issue, and flew back to the safety of the trees. All of the screaming monsters were too busy killing each other to notice a Sasquatch in their midst. Well-hidden now, he sat on a boulder and directed his attention to the newspaper clutched in his massive fist. The paper was not a multi-page digest of politics, weather, local happenings, and crossword puzzles; this little more than a pamphlet declaring the arrival of the apocalypse. 

Doomsday Clock Strikes Midnight!

Deep Glacial Extremophiles Attack Brain Cells - CDC Breaks Silence on “Melting” in America

W.H.O. Declares Melting "More Than Just a Pandemic"

Despite Death Toll, Millions Claim “Melting” a Hoax

Harlan tittered. He was a hoax. 

So it had come to this. The glaciers had melted and now the people did, too.

Harlan stood at the top of the boulder and laughed. What started as a huff of bitter amusement transformed into a chuckle, a giggle, a guffaw. His sides ached. He placed a hairy hand against his quaking belly. For the first time in decades, Harlan spoke. He quelled his giggles just long enough to shout at the top of his lungs:

 "I told you so!"