The Last 200: Rebuilding Humanity

"Put the house down, Bob! Put it down right now!" Ethan screamed, ducking as a shower of splinters rained over his head. "You're going to kill us both!"

"No! No sleep! No nap!" Bob roared, his twelve-year-old muscles bulging as he held up the entire corner of the log cabin with one beefy hand. "I want to play! You can't make me sleep!"

"Bob, buddy, look at me," Ethan pleaded, raising his hands slowly. "If you pull that beam, the roof is going to squash us. Like bugs. Splat. You don't want to be a squashed bug, do you? Squash bugs don't get to play tag. They just get flat."

"Want juice! Want juice now!" Bob screamed, his voice cracking from a high-pitched toddler squeal to a deep, booming adolescent rattle. "Give me juice or I smash the whole place!"

"Okay, okay! The juice is right here! Just... let go of the building!" Ethan begged, staring desperately at his messy desk. "Don't shake it! Please don't shake it! The roof is literally groaning, Bob!"

"No juice! You lie to me! You always tell me to wait!" Bob howled, shaking the support timber. "I hate waiting! Waiting is for losers!"

"Who taught you that word? Was it Sarah?" Ethan sighed, shaking his head. "Look, I'm not lying! Look who came to visit!" He grabbed a crudely painted wooden block from the shelf and waved it frantically. "It’s Mr. Squeaks! He came all the way from the deep, dark forest just to see you!"

Bob froze, his face twisting in confusion. "Mr. Squeaks?"

"Yeah! Mr. Squeaks!" Ethan threw his voice into a ridiculous, high-pitched falsetto. "Hey there, Bobby-boy! Don't crush Ethan, okay? If you crush him, who's going to tell us bedtime stories? Who's going to make the delicious sweet-berry juice?"

"Mr. Squeaks sounds funny," Bob muttered, his grip on the timber softening. "Why does he talk like that?"

"Because he's a magical forest block, Bob!" Ethan squeaked again, bobbing the wood in the air. "He says, 'I brought you a secret juice box, Bob! But only if you gently—very gently—set the cabin back down!' Can you do that for Mr. Squeaks?"

"Gently?" Bob asked, sniffing loudly. "Like a baby chick?"

"Yes, super gently. Like you're putting a little baby bird to bed. Nice and slow. Just let the beam slide right into the groove."

With a grunt, Bob lowered the heavy cedar beam. The cabin groaned, settling back onto its stone foundation with a dull thud.

"Good boy," Ethan sighed, handing over a hollowed gourd. "Here. Take your juice. You earned it."

Bob snatched it, sucking happily. "Mr. Squeaks can watch me?"

"Yeah, buddy. He'll watch you." Ethan leaned against the wall, rubbing his temples. "Man, you're getting too strong for this. If you keep growing like this, I'm going to need steel beams. My spreadsheets say we are officially out of nails, anyway."

"Ethan? Why you look sad?" Bob asked, his giant eyes suddenly wide with concern. "Did Bob do bad?"

"No, you didn't do bad, Bob. I'm just... tired. Managing you guys is hard. You're growing so fast, but your brains are still so little. Why did those lab people do this to you? What was the point of accelerating your bodies if you're still toddlers inside? It's a mystery I can't solve. I really wish I had the answers."

"What's a lab?" Bob asked, tilting his head. "Is it tasty?"

"No, it's not tasty. It's a place where people in white coats made big mistakes. They made you grow too fast, Bob. They made all of you grow physically, but left your hearts and minds behind. I just wish I knew why they did it before they abandoned us here."

"Did they make Mr. Squeaks too?" Bob asked.

"No, I made Mr. Squeaks because we don't have real toys anymore. We don't have anything anymore. Just this island, some seeds, and a lot of questions. Now, drink your juice, okay?"

"Okay. But you have to tell me a story later. A big story with dragons!" Bob grinned.

"Sure, buddy. A big story about dragons who actually listen to their big brothers."

BOOM.

A massive crash echoed from the southern shore, shaking the very floorboards.

"What was that?" Bob whimpered, dropping his gourd. "Is it a giant monster?"

"Stay here, Bob!" Ethan ordered, his exhaustion vanishing instantly. "Do not touch the beams! Do not go outside! Do you hear me?"

"But I'm scared!" Bob wailed. "Don't leave me alone!"

"Mr. Squeaks is guarding you! Talk to him! I'll be right back!" Ethan yelled, bolting out the door. "Keep your eyes on the block, Bob! I mean it!"

He ran down the dirt path, his chest burning. The ocean waves were crashing violently against the southern reef. Through the sea spray, he saw a bizarre shape.

"No way," Ethan gasped, running faster. "What in the world is that ridiculous thing? Who builds a raft like that?"

It was a raft made of hollowed-out coconut trunks, tied together with messy vines, carrying a tattered palm-leaf sail.

"Hey! Is anyone on that piece of junk?" Ethan screamed, hitting the wet sand. "Hello! Can you hear me?"

The raft slammed against the sharp coral, tilting dangerously. On the deck lay an unconscious woman, her dark hair tangled in wet vines.

"Oh, great. Just what I needed," Ethan muttered, kicking off his boots. "Hey! Wake up! You're about to hit the rocks! Get up!"

The woman didn't move. A huge wave lifted the raft, preparing to smash it completely.

"Why does this always happen to me?" Ethan shouted to the wind. "I am absolutely, one hundred percent going to regret this! Don't you dare drown on my watch!"

He plunged headfirst into the fre

ezing, violent surf, desperately swimming toward her. "Hold on! I'm coming!"