I said I was working on fixing this, didn't I? This is totally original, totally unique, and supposed to be funny.
...
...I wrote this thing originally a year ago, ok? I wasn't very good back then, so there will still be problems. Not nearly as many, though. This was the original short story- And its about a 7th of what I've got right now. And yes, it's very slow for me. Be patient. No action yet. But still- enjoy.
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Chapter 1

On the thirteenth of May, 2018, China went silent. No radio, now TV brodcasts... nothing. People went in to see why, but they returned on the brink of death- or not at all. No one could figure out what was killing them and why- that is of course until some doctors found it out. It was some, seemingly man-made plague, one 10 times more deadly than the Black Death! It infected a person, and within days that said person just fell over and died. They injected it in mice to see the effect, but the plague, now known as Black Death 2.0; BD2 for short, immediately disintegrated in the rodent’s system. It had no effect. They couldn’t develop anti-bodies; so the human race had no resistance against it, and they couldn’t protect themselves in any other way, so… they died. The human race just fell over and died. And in L.A., where stars shone brightly in the movies and gangsters were more common than weeds, a star that owned a large Military Macaw died in pain and alone. But the macaw watched from his large cage as his owner died, yet he was unharmed, uninfected! The BD2 seemed to choose its victims.
What would happen to the world? Would the cities fall apart and nature return? Or would mankind’s taint on the world never disappear? So the meek do inherit the earth. Well, the furry, feathery, and scaly do, at least. In 100,000 years time, would mankind be replaced by some other species? If so, would they be evolved from the chimps, the lizards, the birds, or even the dolphins? Who knows, who knows…
This story isn’t about the Earth, nor is it about evolution.
It’s about that macaw.

His name was Squawks- not the most imaginative name, but his owner was a simple man. He used to live in a large birdcage that he thought was too small for a bird of his size, but his owner though it was fine. His owner, a young male star that starred in a movie about talking dolphins and a toaster, opened up the door to Squawks’ cage before he just fell over, and with a gurgle, he died.
Poor old Squawks was confused, and later, annoyed because he had no one to feed him. And so he hopped out of his shiny chrome cage and glided over to his ex-owner. He watched him intently for two minutes and 34 seconds before he went searching for the container of bird seed. (Macaws have a very acute perception of time; they can recall the time certain events happened from the same year, down to the minute, sometimes even the second.)
He tried to pry open the cabinet that held his feed, but it wouldn’t budge. The lock was solid. So he thought to try the doors to the outside world. They were closed, but unlocked. So he eventually nudged the doors open and escaped! He takes a leap and flies up into the sky, then he looks down and squawks in surprise. Just a little bit after all the humans in L.A. have died, the animals have taken to the streets. Packs of mangy mutts roamed the streets with trimmed poodles in their midst. He watched as packs off geese settled into buildings for a nice nap, knowing the previous occupants were gone; dead and gone. He glided upon wind currents that knocked over a few mice that were on the ground that he could see. He flew down lower and through the doors of a grocery store.
He glided past several dogs whom were trying to get to the frozen meat, but without much luck. He stopped at the fruit section and he neatly chowed down on a lemon. He loved lemons! That was just one of his quirks.

He promptly finished his lemon, peel and all, a few minutes later. Now he didn’t need any food! For awhile yet, anyways. That couple of dogs had moved on from the frozen meat section and squawks could see them eyeing the butcher’s stall.
Hhhhmmmmm…. He thought. Poor cows, to be eaten by a pack of ally hounds.
He jumped off the fruit stand and flew out of the door of the store.
Squawks knew he had a journey to do. He wanted to go back to Brazil, where he used to live before he was captured and shipped off to that wretched pet shop. He flew past several buildings still with the lights on and he nearly crashed into a traffic light.
I need to fly higher! He thought.
He went up and up till he was at a height of about 60 meters. (A macaw’s reference to distance is on a smaller scale than ours. 60 meters seemed like 120 meters to him.)
He glided around for a few moments until he spotted the fire department. Maybe they’ll have some room for a weary bird, he thought. So he swooped down and darted into the large doorway made for the fire engines. Several of the fire trucks were still there as well as the fire depot’s Dalmatian. Squawks quickly crashed into the table leg of a table that still held the fire fighters’ breakfast. Well, used to. It toppled over as the leg broke, spilling the contents on the ground. He skidded and stopped after he slid into a crate. The Dalmatian ran over. ‘Are you alright? You crashed hard, little bird.’
Squawks got up from his painful position and said; ‘I’m fine. That table won’t ever be the same, though.’
The Dalmatian looked back at the ruined table and sighed. ‘That thing was older than I was… well, first things first. Who are you?’
‘Who are you?’ Squawks replied.
‘Just because you’re a parrot doesn’t mean you need to act like one. I asked first. Who are you?’ she said back in a rather annoyed tone.
‘My name’s Squawks. I used to live up the road from here. And I’m a macaw, not a parrot! Same family, different species.’
‘Sorry…’ she raised out a paw, much in the style akin to those “Shake” tricks. ‘My name’s Scribbles. Nice to meet you. Shake on it?’
He tried to do a paw-to-wing shake, but that was nearly impossible, so they gave up trying. So Squawks asked her why her name was Scribbles.
‘My name is like that because when I was just a puppy, I used to steal markers and scribble around with them on paper, but more or less usually, the walls and the floor. The fire fighters thought this would be a good name for me just because of that. They tryed to get me into dog shows as well.’ She passed over one of the firefighter’s breakfast plates over to me. There was still some of an omelet stuck to it like glue. ‘Hungry?’
‘No thanks. I ate before I got here.’
Scribbles did a sort of canine shrug and she took a bite of the grilled omelet.
‘So, why are you out and about, an expensive bird like yourself?’
‘I want to meet others of my species, my family, in Brazil.’
‘You still have relatives there?’ she asks.
‘I hope so. Because I’ve got a long flight ahead and I don’t want to waste it.’
‘Do you mind if I come?’ Scribbles said without any hesitation.
‘Sure, if you can keep up when I take to the sky.’
‘Should be easy. I would think so, right?’
‘I’ll go slower for you because you may need to get around or over hills and obstacles, but don’t worry, we’ll stick together. But why do you want to come?’
‘To explore, to see the world! I haven’t gone very far out of L.A., anyways.’
‘Hey, a lot of larger creatures like that. Alright then, you can come along. But you’ll have to be careful.’

Chapter 2

And she was. On the nineteenth of May, the macaw and the Dalmatian exited a dusty supermarket, with Scribbles holding a half frozen veggie burger in her mouth. Squawks darted out and landed upon a car.
‘How’s that burger?’ Squawks asked. The trip was going as normal.
‘Not to bad. Could use some warming up, though.’ She looked around the parking lot.
‘Any idea where we are?’ scribbles asks.
‘I think we’re in Arizona. I think. We still got a long distance to go. Why did you ask?’ Squawks hops off the car as he says that, landing on the dusty ground.
‘Just wondering…’
Wonder, and more or less, curiosity, can severely hurt animals, usually ones of a feline nature. The saying; “curiosity killed the cat” came from along time ago when a house cat that lived in an area somewhere in the Alps though to itself whether or not to go see if snow was cold, or not. The poor cat, never have been taken out of that room he was born in; thought that snow was warm because of the way it seems to shine when the sun hits it. The cat thought the snow made that light. He walked out the door, and because of his thick coat, he didn’t notice the 0 degrees temperature out there. He thought the snow was solid, so he walked right off the little porch on the log cabin. He fell 3 feet through the powdery snow and promptly vanished under the collapsed snow. The fluffy kitten’s body was found a couple of months later, and they guessed the cat got curious. But lethal curiosity may not affect dogs- or macaws, for that matter.

Our little duo traveled down a street which was in a serious state of disrepair. Buildings were vacant of occupants and windows, and that cars on the streets were starting to rust. Sections of the road have collapsed, rendering it impossible for non-flying creatures to pass. When this appeared, Squawks just flew over the chasm whilst Scribbles found another way around. Usually, this detour was going around or through a building.
At around 3:30 pm, our faithful friends were walking down a slightly messy bit of some highway they could not identify. They did believe it to be Route 66, though. They stopped at a stockade made out of cars, manned- or should I say wolved- by a couple of scrawny wolves.
‘Stop!’ one of them cried out.
‘You shall not pass!’ said another.
‘What is your business?’ shouted out a third.
Squawks landed and looked at Scribbles, like she would have some answers. So Scribbles answered the wolves’ calls.
‘We are here just to head down to south America! My friend here would like to be with his relatives, and I would just like to check it out.’
‘What, with your friend from Costa Rica?’ shouted out the second wolf.
‘Brazil, I’m from Brazil!’ Squawks shouted out back at the wolf.
Scribbles looked at Squawks with a look of puzzlement like she was saying; what are you doing?
Scribbles continued. ‘We don’t mean any harm. We just wanna pass!’
‘You shall need to bring us tribute if you want to pass. Bring us a couple of Hershey’s bars, 50 packets of wintergreen gum…’ they weren’t heard by the duo any more because the two were now currently walking out into the forest on the left side of the highway and they intended to simply walk around the blockade.
They got back on the highway a few hours later, with the barricade out of sight.
‘Miserable little things…’ Scribbles said. ‘It looks like they need food. Why couldn’t we help them?’
‘Because they were asking for stuff that wasn’t food. It would’ve probably killed them. You know what chocolate does to dogs, and even gum they would probably swallow. Enough gum that’s been swallowed can stop the heart, you know.’ Squawks said.
‘Really? I didn’t know that, so how do you know?’
‘My cage was in front of the television. You can learn a lot from the education channels. I would usually turn those on when my owner was away, then switch them off when he returned. Ever watch the History Channel? Great stuff. I love all the things they show on that…’
‘It’s ok.’ Scribbles responded. ‘I like animal planet myself.’
‘Hey, what animal doesn’t?’
‘Very true. Speaking of that…’
Scribbles ran forward down the exit ramp and stopped at one of those highway signs. She pawed the bit that said ‘Tulsa zoo’
‘Shall we go and help?’ Squawks said.
‘Lets.’

They went down the exit ramp and swerved into a smaller two lane road. A flock of starlings were watching them from on high and they were wondering what the hell they were doing. But when they say the two were heading towards the zoo, well, they just split up and started looking for some tasty worms.
Scribbles and Squawks stopped at the zoo’s closed gates.
‘How are we going to get around that?’ she asks.
‘Simple!’ Squawked Squawks. He went up into the air and he flew over the gate.
He then landed on the large lock and took a peek into its workings.
‘I think I’ll need a key for this one…’ Squawks says. He flew over to some of the ticketing booths. Nothing in that one but a moldy sandwich. The other one happened to have the key!
‘Found it!’ Squawks shouts out. He picks the key up in his talons and flies over to the lock. He unlocks the lock after several tries in turning it, and when it opened, Scribbles pushed the gate open with her snout. ‘Alright then, let’s go.’ She says.
They quickly went through the turnstiles, with Squawks just flying over and Scribbles jumping. The primate house was the closest one to them, so they started their work there.

A few hours later, our duo had learned that most of the animals had already been released. The animals that couldn’t live in Oklahoma stayed in their habitats, like the polar bears and the penguins. But their habitat had been greatly extended, with several habitats covered in ice, even though the temperature was 60 degrees. Squawks was almost as big as the smaller penguins!
They did free the reptile house, with the boa constrictors trying to thanks Scribbles with a hug, and they freed the elephants, whom promptly stormed out of their enclosure.
‘Well, we helped a few off them. That’s something, isn’t it?’ Scribbles said as they walked out of the zoo.
‘Yeah, but did you see the gratitude they gave us? That boa almost killed you! To bad any of my fellow birds weren’t there anymore.’
‘Maybe we’ll meet some more on the way to Brazil.’
‘True… it makes me wonder… why didn’t any of those lizards try to talk to us? Or the elephants?’
‘Yep, I thought that was odd. I could have sworn some of those species there were intelligent.’
‘Maybe they were just shy?’
They broke off into a faster run and fly.
‘It would be rather odd.’ Scribbles barked out. ‘I wonder why.’
‘Maybe because they were stuck all on their lonesome for a couple of years in those frightful little cages?’
‘Could have been. That boa should have said something when it was on me.’
‘It did hiss at you when you barked.’ Squawks said.
‘Oh, be quiet.’
Squawks laughed.

The duo of canine and avian dashed out of a tunnel in Tulsa and abruptly stopped at a big pile up of cars. They had seen these all over the place, usually in big cities. They were in the center of Tulsa, a big area with huge skyscrapers all around. The towers were about 30-40 stories each, but to our two friends, they seemed to be a couple of miles high. Plants were already growing up the sides of the towers and the cars were just hunks of rusty metal now. Decay was accelerated, it seemed. When they looked up they could see flocks of different types of birds flying about in the air in greater numbers than what they had done when mankind was around. Whilst they were watching a section of one of the skyscrapers tumbled off and crashed on the ground a good twenty feet behind Scribbles and Squawks. Squawks had hopped back and Scribbles dashed out of the way and hid behind a car, whimpering.
‘It’s alright, Scribbles! It’s just a hunk of masonry!’ Squawks called out.
‘Why’d that fall just then?’ Scribbles asked in a fearful voice.
‘I don’t know… maybe it had to do with those large flocks of birds. Maybe they had something to do with it. Maybe they eroded it off…’
‘… or they knocked it off to try to kill us!’
‘Maybe. Wait a mo, I’ll go fly up there and check.’
Scribbles nodded and sat down as Squawks flew straight up at a speed to rough to calculate for macaws. He flew right up to the roof and stopped. There were a few dozen songbirds in the air fluttering about over the area where the bit of the building had fallen off of. Other songbirds were in little makeshift nests made out of newspapers and twigs from the half dead trees in pots on the sidewalk. A few stared at Squawks when he flew back down to Scribbles.
‘Wasn’t them. I think it was an accident.’
‘Really? Why do you say that?’ Scribbles said.
‘Because several were fluttering about in the air in a state of confusion, and all of those birds looked like they had been woken up from a long nap.’
‘How do you know that?’ Scribbles asked.
‘Believe me, I know. You can ask a bird on how to identify other birds’ feelings. Anyways, look. And I can see several of their nests in that pile of rubble.’
‘Oh, right. Of course.’ Scribbles walked over to the pile of cars. ‘How are we going to get through this?’
‘Simple, my friend!’ Squawks squawked. ‘We go around!’
He flew over to a door in the skyscraper on the right and pushed the door open.
‘Come in! Let’s go.’ Scribbles ran over and they strode into the dark tower.

They left the tower quite suddenly. It was full of dead bodies, most of them skeletons! They ran right out of there.

On the 23rd of May our duo was walking down the streets of some border town in Texas. They stopped at a mass of metal in the road. But this was put here for a reason… they looked around. Every now and then they saw a couple of fleeting shadows in the alleys. They knew they were not welcome here.
‘Should we run?’ Scribbles asked.
They heard the yowl of a cat getting its tail stepped on.
‘I think we should…’ several dozen alley cats dashed out of the alleys.
‘…Run!’
They speed down the road they had come from and dashed down an alley which had several doors to different buildings on the sides. But only one was open, so they took that one and dashed into what looked like the ruins of a bookstore. Several cats flanked them by crashing through the front door.
‘Where should we go?!’ cried Squawks.
‘Up there!’ Scribbles shouted, running up some stairs behind a shelf. She knocked a trap door open and skidded onto the roof with Squawks not to far behind.
‘Jump!’ Squawks cried as he flew over a space between the two buildings on the alley. Scribbles did so and almost fell down into the alley where a couple of hungry alley cats were waiting for food, dog or not. They dashed along the roof with cats at their tails.
They then jumped/flew over another gap in between two other buildings and stopped at the mass of metal that made the barricade. At least a dozen cats were waiting for them. Well then, Squawks thought. Let’s do this.
Squawks flew straight over the cats’ heads and Scribbles jumped right over them, knocking one in the head with one of her rear paws. They scrambled- well, Scribbles did- over the metal barricade which might have been a pile of cars once upon a time, and tumbled onto the roof of the grocery store on the other side of the barricade. They swerved around vents and jumped fans, making half of the cats run straight into them.
Interesting how they put the store so close to the Rio Grande.
‘Scribbles! You’re going to have to swim for it!’ Squawks shouts out.
‘What about you?’ she cried.
‘Don’t forget, I can fly!’
They avoided a few more of the vents and jumped off the roof, coming in for a hard landing on the river.
‘Geronimo!’ Scribbles shouted out. She plunged into the depths and then surfaced a few moments later and started paddling to the other shore. Squawks zoomed over and landed on the south shore of the Rio Grande, just in time to watch a couple of the cats tumble into the river and try to swim to shore, but with no avail.

‘Wow, what was with that?’ Scribbles asked as she shook her self off.
‘I don’t know. Maybe they were like those wolves we encountered back on 66. Remember?’ Squawks replied.
‘Yep. Those guys were very odd…’
They looked out at the darkening skies, watching the bats. From this area with out any lights they could see hundreds of stars, nebulae, and the Orion arm of the Milky Way. It was-plain and simple- beautiful.
They just watched for awhile longer and later they sat down and slept.

Chapter 3

The during the next few days they had walked miles apon miles for nearly a week and they later came upon the Mexican city of Monterrey.
The sprawling city was alive with animals of all kinds and Squawks and Scribbles were even welcomed in by a welcoming party.
‘Hola, and welcome to Monterrey, the sprawling city which we animals have claimed as our own! And whom may you two be?’ A skinny mutt wearing a small sombrero asked our duo.
‘Hola, senor. We are just a macaw and a Dalmatian on the way to Brazil, and we happened to be passing through.’ Squawks replied.
‘You seemed to be American. Welcome!’ The mutt gestured for them to follow.
‘My name is Senor Rodriguez and I’m here to guide you through the city. And you haven’t said your names…’ The mutt said.
‘My name’s Squawks.’ Squawks said.
‘And I’m Scribbles.’ Scribbles said.
‘Good to meet you two!’ Rodriguez replied. ‘Are either of you hungry? I know some good places.’ Squawks and Scribbles nodded. They hadn’t had food for some time now.
They then followed Rodriguez down a street where they watched all the things happening. A couple of lizards scurried down a wall. They could hear bad music playing in the background. Maybe some creature is trying to learn how to play some Mexican songs. A parrot landed on a roof top above our duo and squawked something. And that was just an alley. Our group turned and entered a cafe whose sign had fallen off awhile back. Inside, the place was energized like it was on a sugar rush. Different birds flew in from holes in the roof. Waiters of different species waltzed across the floor, holding menus in their mouths or claws, depending on the species. A band in the corner, made entirely out of cats, was playing some unknown song on a couple of guitars and a piano. They were plucking the strings on their guitars using their claws, which wo0uld imply felines were good musicians.
Our duo and their new guide sat down at a booth that had the back of its seats split in half through the side so it was only half as tall, and the floor under the booth was raised a foot by some cinder blocks with rather tasteful carpet thrown over them. They sat down, and a canine waiter ran up to them and plopped the menus on their table. Oddly, there were at least 3 cat waiters to every dog waiter in here. They also heard the odd cat yowl every couple of minutes.
‘Maybe they shouldn’t get the cats to serve the dog’s tables.’ Squawks said as a yowl rang out, almost blotted out by the off beat music.
‘And what would you like senors, senora?’ The waiter asked us. He was slightly plump golden haired dog which Squawks couldn’t recognize.
Rodriguez started ordering some type of soup as Scribbles and Squawks scanned their menus.
‘Mushroom soup… no, maybe the Caesar salad? Hhhhmmmm….’ Squawks muttered to himself.
‘How about the onion soup?’ Scribbles asked the waiter.
‘Of course, senora. And what about you, senor?’ the waiter replied. He was waiting for Squawks to make up his mind.
‘I think the Caesar salad would do fine. Oh, no dressing. Wouldn’t be able to get it off my beak.’ Squawks said.
‘Certainly, senor. Now, what would you all like to drink?’ the waiter replied, wondering why Squawks wasn’t up with the other birds at the higher tables.
Squawks immediately replied: ‘Lemonade, please. Also, mind taking it up to the bird tables? I’m having a hard time reaching the table…’
‘Of course, senor. Now, if you would excuse me…’ the waiter said that and walked away.
‘You going to head up to the top tables?’ asked Rodriguez.
‘Yep.’ Replied Squawks.
‘Well then, find a table with parrots or-…’ he was interrupted by one of the strings snapping with a loud TWANG! on one of the band’s guitars. ‘…other macaws, they’ll be alright with you sitting there.’
‘Thanks!’ Squawks shouted, and he glided up to the tables up on high. The tables for the birds were quite different from the others. They were simply slabs of some type of plastic stuck in the wall with a wooden perch acting as a seat. Near each of them was a sort of door in the side of the wall that food was delivered by. Squawks looked around to find a table with a macaw or two, but could only find one with a lonely blue macaw, so Squawks flew over and landed on the other side of that table.
‘Hey, nice to meet you.’ Squawks said to the tired looking Scarlet macaw with oddly blue wings.
‘What? Oh- good morning.’ The other macaw responded sleepily.
‘It’s the late evening. You alright? My name’s Squawks. What about you?’
‘Really? Oh… my name’s Bluewing. Sorry, but I’m having a hard day. Did you order a drink?’ He asked that because the little door for their table opened up. An iguana was inside the dumb waiter that the doors opened to, along with two small cups, with one full of lemonade and the other full of what seemed to be a flavored water. Both of them had thin straws stuck in them.
‘You ordered?’ The iguana said, and promptly slid the drinks in front of the two macaws, then ran back onto the platform and closed the door. They could hear a slight squeaking noise as the platform lowered.
‘How wonderfully weird…’ Squawks muttered to himself.
‘They are kinda odd here. You should see what species the staff is made of!’ He took a sip of his flavored water. ‘So, where did you get a name like that, Squawks?’ Bluewing asked.
Squawks responded quickly. ‘Oh, I was captured as a chick and taken to a pet shop in America, L.A. actually.’ A bass solo reverberated from below them. ‘My ex-owner was a movie star, and he was lousy with names. At some point I hope for a better one…’
‘Right… I thought you sounded American. But why are you here?’
‘I remember living in Brazil as a young chick, but not to much more. I would like to meet my family, but…’
‘… You don’t remember your real name, nor do you remember your parents’ names, right?’
‘What? Oh, yeah.’ Squawks started sipping his lemonade. ‘Mmmm! This is good…’
Down below them Scribbles was talking with Rodriguez, learning some more about Mexico. The feline band was taking a break. They were stuck trying to replace the strings on one of those guitars with a taut noodle.
‘So, why are you having a bad day?’ Squawks asked Bluewing.
‘It’s just a usual bad day. Hit a windstorm whilst flying, got chased by an angry owl, that sort of thing. Meeting a new person helps, though.’
‘True…’
The band below them was having some difficulties with the noodle-string on the guitar. They tried it, but it snapped. They were going to try an unused one.
‘What is that band down there doing?’ Bluewing wondered.
‘Looks like they’re trying to use an un-cooked noodle for a guitar string.’ Squawks replied. The feline band tried to get the stiff noodle tied on, but it broke continually.
‘Wow… what’s wrong with those guys?’ Squawks said.
‘They just don’t know what a noodle is uncooked. Does that guy have an actual guitar string?’ Bluewing asked.
‘I think so.’
They heard an increasing squeaking sound coming from the wall next to them, and then the door opened up with the same iguana there. He had two salads, one Caesar, the other some type that couldn’t be recognized by Squawks just then.
‘Sorry for our delay- lots of people here!’ The large iguana shouted out, barely heard over the noise below them. ‘One Caesar, the other some type of custom salad.’ He pushed the salads onto the table, the Caesar to Squawks and the other one to Bluewing. He strode into the little elevator, and shouted out: ‘Enjoy!’ and the doors slammed shut. The two macaws then heard an ‘Ow!’ and some grumbling. The iguana was presumably hit by the doors.
They looked at their salads for a moment; like they were thinking- what the heck is this? - and then they chowed down on a tasty salad.

Several hours later they were exiting the slightly smoky restaurant, with Squawks saying his farewells to his new friend Bluewing.
‘Come back and visit!’ Bluewing shouted out as he watched our duo walk away with their guide, Rodriguez.
‘I will!’ Squawks shouted out as they turned a corner.
It was getting dark now, with a few stars appearing in spite of the light from the restaurant and a couple of other buildings.
‘Senors, you tired? We can stop somewhere.’ Rodriguez asked the duo.
Scribbles yawned. ‘Sure. That place was fun, but tiring. What was it called?’
‘The Cat’s Paw. You can tell where the name came from.’ Rodriguez responded.
‘I’m surprised they let us in...’
‘Well, you maybe, but not me.’ Squawks jutted in.
‘Let’s try this building.’ Rodriguez said as the entered a dark house. Inside were a couple of dozen animals lying about and sleeping. There were perches stuck into the walls. This seemed to be a free place to sleep.
‘Get some sleep, senor, senora. Dawn can be loud around here.’

And it was. Dogs barking, bird song to the nth power- the town was loud at the morning. And Scribbles slept through most of it. Rodriguez and Squawks were talking about something when Scribbles awoke, and yawned loudly.
‘Good morning… huh? Where’s every one gone?’ she turned her head and saw us. ‘Well, at least you two are here. Couldn’t sleep?’ she asked.
‘Actually, you were the one whom slept in late. It’s about 9’o’clock. We woke up with the morning chorus.’ Squawks said.
‘Which was when?’ she asked.
‘About 6:30…’ Rodriguez answered. ‘So, senor, senora, do you intend to stay here in Monterey, or continue on your adventure?’
Both Squawks and Scribbles wanted to continue.

On May 29th, our favorite duo stood at the edge of Monterrey, looking out at a lush, verdant forest.
‘So, is this goodbye, senor Squawks, senora Scribbles?’ Rodriguez asked, with an apparent tear in his eye.
‘For now, for now.’ Scribbles responded. ‘If we come back, then we’ll meet again. And I’m sure we’ll return. Goodbye, Rodriguez.’
‘Hasta luego, Rodriguez. See you later.’ Squawks said.
‘Good luck on your travels!’ Rodriguez shouted out because Scribbles and Squawks were already on their way.

Chapter 4

The forest teemed with life. They could hear monkey hoots, cries of birds, and the occasional howl of something else.
‘What was that?’ Scribbles asked. Another howl broke the silence.
‘Sounds like a wolf…’ Squawks responded.
‘Don’t they only howl like that at night?’
‘They’re not far off… according to my watch, dusk is nearing.’
‘You don’t wear a watch!’
‘That’s the point…’ another howl cracked the air like glass and some faint barking could be heard in the distance behind them.
‘Run?’ Scribbles asked.
‘They’re fast. We wouldn’t make it!’ Squawks cried.
But the barking didn’t seem to be for them, but for someone-or something- else in these woods.
‘They seem to be heading to the left.’ Scribbles said, a bit calmer now.
‘I hope their not flanking us…’ Squawks muttered, hoping Scribbles wouldn’t hear.
‘Oh, now you tell me! Why, sometimes…’ she was interrupted by human screams piercing the air.
‘Should we go see what’s happening?’ Squawks asked.
He got no answer because Scribbles was already running towards the source of the cries.
‘Here we go again…’ Squawks muttered, and then he flew after Scribbles.
They speed through the forest, surprising several different creatures, whom quickly fell off their perches. They stopped at a gnarled tree overlooking a clearing. But in that clearing a native tribe of humans that somehow survived the plague where there; fighting off a good sized back of rather large, gray wolves. Several wolf bodies were lying about the clearing, and some natives were dead or dying on the blood-stained ground as well.
‘Look at the size of the wolves…’ Scribbles said, not very loudly.
‘I’m just surprised that a whole native tribe survived.’ Squawks responded as he watched a wolf get impaled on a native’s spear.
‘Let’s hope this is over soon…’ Scribbles said to herself.
And it was. A few minutes and a few bodies later the wolves retreated back into the forest, their collective tails between their legs. Squawks counted seven dead wolves and three dead natives. These tribesmen had dark skin, and most of them wore a cloak made of several types of fur. One of them- a young child of no more than six- watched Squawks with interest, like he had never seen a macaw before.
‘So, the human race survives to live another day.’ Squawks said as he hopped down from his tree limb.
‘That’s good. I couldn’t bear for more of those natives to die, much less the children.’ Scribbles responded. ‘I wonder why it was this tribe, and why not other humans?’
‘I don’t know...unless…’
‘Unless what?’ Scribbles asked, her curiosity peaked.
‘Unless this plague was planned!’ Squawks cried out.
‘Are you saying that someone wanted to wipe out the human race?’
‘Dunno. Maybe it targeted all the medicines and artificial things in most humans’ systems! That could explain it.’
‘So that’s why this tribe didn’t die out? Because they hadn’t taken artificial vaccines?’ Scribbles asked.
‘Exactly! So that means... This plague... someone or something wanted to wipe out humanity.’

The surprised duo stumbled away from the clearing, in one heck of a daze. The rest of their walk through Central America was rather un-eventful, except the time when they saved another zoo. It went rather like this…:
‘Is that another zoo?’ Squawks asked as they walked down a cracked road.
‘I think it is… c’mon, lets go see of anyone’s still alive in there.’ Scribbles responded.
They ran/flew down the road, and stopped at the rusty gates, which were in several bits all over the ground.
‘Looks like the winds of time eroded this gate down.’ Squawks said, looking around.
‘Hey, I found a hole I can fit through!’ Scribbles shouted out, and she walked over to a rusty hole which had rusty metal spikes protecting it. It was about a foot and a half tall.
‘Alright, I’ll crawl through and meet you on the other side, alright?’ Scribbles said.
‘Be careful.’ Squawks commanded. ‘Don’t need you hurting yourself, do we?’ and then he flew up and over the gate.
Scribbles lay down on her stomach and crawled, very slowly, through the small hole in the tall gates. She made it through without harm.
‘Good, you made it. Now then, if I’m reading this Portuguese text right, this way should be the primate house. We may need them. Let’s move!’ Squawks shouted out, and he headed towards a large, glass domed building. The building seemed to be in the middle of the zoo, surrounded by all kinds of other exhibits.
‘Although, how long have they been in there? It’s the 30th, and all of this started on… the thirteenth. So they’ve been in there for 17 days. Dunno if their still alive, Scribbles.’ Squawks said.
‘Let’s hope so…’ Scribbles replied. They followed the crumbling concrete path to the primate house, and then they pushed open the plastic doors.
‘Oh jeez…’
‘Good god! All of them?’ Scribbles shouted out. All of the 17 primates were dead, apparently from the same plague that wiped out the humans!
‘They must have been vaccinated from the plague, but it didn’t work, it just attracted it…’ Squawks said.
‘This has gone on for too long! I wanna know who did this!’ Scribbles shouted, her voice echoing through the big building.
‘I know… I want to figure this out too…’ Squawks replied.

The rest of the zoo was the same. Many were dead from the plague, the others had died all too recently from starvation. A few animals that had access to food were still alive, and they were set free, but there wasn’t many. They left the zoo after a rhino knocked down the gates. The rest of their adventure through Central America was a rough one, with more and more evidence of the plague. They eventually entered South America via the collapsing Panama Canal, which already had fish trying to swim up it. But the scenery was starting to get much more beautiful- in a chaotic way. Huge trees of green and brown towered high above the Dalmatian and the macaw, flowers sprouted wherever they looked, and birds twittered in the huge trees described previously. They passed through Columbia and entered Brazil on the 2nd of June. Their adventure, lasting twenty days, was nearly at a close. But how where they to find his family, even if they were still alive? And if they were, how will our duo find out? Tune in next time- no, tune in now, because that’s what follows now.

‘Wow... I never expected the jungles of Brazil to be like this. Just, wow…’ Scribbles said as she pawed a vine out of the way. She looked up at Squawks flying nearly 30 feet up above the trees, zooming around and asking other birds if they had any idea if there were two macaws whom had lost a child. Maybe they were taken to a pet shop as well…
They were way out in the Amazon forest, looking for a needle in a very large haystack. Also, they were lost. Squawks glided down and landed on a branch near Scribbles.
‘They have no clue. I ask them if a macaw couple lost a child to humans several years ago and they say they haven’t heard a thing!’ Squawks shouts. ‘You hear a lot about macaws, other kinds of birds, losing children after they fall out of a nest, but none to humans. Maybe we’re in the wrong area.’
‘Maybe…’ Scribbles replied, looking further into the jungle. ‘But the Amazon isn’t the place for a Dalmatian. And if I trip again…’
‘One more section, Scribbles. And there’s been lots of macaws and parrots losing children to humans, just not any 4 years ago…’
‘Maybe they don’t remember. Or maybe you’re older or younger than you think.’
‘Maybe…’
‘Squawks, this is like looking for a needle in a haystack- a huge haystack and a miniscule needle. Maybe we should come back to this after we find out why the plague was created.’ Scribbles replied, watching a large butterfly float past.
‘If it was created.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Maybe some other virus mutated into a form that targets artificial vaccines- no, that’s not right… can it?’
‘That would seem rather odd. Go on, keep asking other birds. I’ll keep on asking around down here. Let’s head west, we haven’t been that way. I think.’
‘Don’t worry, we haven’t. c’mon, let’s move.’ Squawks said as he took off from the branch and slowly glided west, with Scribbles following from the ground.

On the fourth of June, our duo entered the west Amazon, with their only clue being that some old macaw lovebirds that lost a chick used to live in that area. They lost the chick to humans about 4 and a half years ago.
‘That was nice of that parrot giving us that clue on where your parents were.’ Scribbles said as the traversed the thick jungle.
‘That parrot was terribly old. He said that he had seen it when he was only three years old! So how old would my mom and dad be?’ Squawks replied.
‘Terribly old, I would think. How old can macaws get?’
‘About 40 years old. I think… So maybe not.’
‘Hhhmmm…’ they passed an old car covered in vines and rusting brown metal powder. Maybe someone tried to escape the plague. They stepped out into a clearing full of holes.
Snakes, maybe? They entered a dark area completely covered by a tree canopy awhile later. Two small stones that looked rather worryingly like gravestones stuck into the ground next to a dead tree.
‘Oh no…’ Squawks whispered. The gravestone said, etched in a real bad style; here lie two heroes to the Amazonian people, the Greentails. Even though they lost their chick four years before they died, they kept on fighting, sabotaging deforestation projects and helping whoever needed help.
‘Missed them by six months… by six months!’ Squawks cried, his voice choked by tears.
‘Squawks, I’m sorry…’