The Grapes of Wrath

“To whom it may concern.”

The words hastily scribbled on the sheet of paper stared coldly back at Charley. Or was it the meaning attached to them that sent shivers down his back?

Perhaps it was the fear of what was to come.

Charley saw the end coming. The end of him. The end of all.

Perched beside his grandfather’s grave atop a hill overlooking his hometown, he looked out in awe as a sudden breeze swirled dust high into the air.

There would be survivors, he comforted himself, but he would not be one of them.

He glanced again at the small sheet of paper torn from an old notebook. Gripping his bible firmly as a table rest, he put the pencil to the yellowed paper and tried to gather his thoughts.

But they were a jumble, tainted by voracious fear and determination to set the record straight.

And for an instant, his hand moved independently of his thoughts.

“December 25.”

He took a deep breath, then sighed as he pored over the date.

Like a small electric jolt, an inner voice focused his thoughts back to the task he had set himself. He must write down his account of what happened, for if humankind should be extinguished, it was important that someone, somewhere, might find his hurried words and know the injustice that was unleashed.

Averting his eyes, a shrill cry from above gripped his attention. He looked up to see a solitary bird of prey circling overhead, soaring high above, free and at peace.

Just as Earth had been for the past thirty years.

On the verge of war in 2037, the leaders of the world vowed never to repeat the horror they swore was necessary to stop the latest incarnation of evil spreading over the world like a plague.

But these words were familiar to too many people. Every leader throughout history spoke such words on the eve of war, and this time was no different.

The people saw that and realized their differences were more of an ideology than anything else.

And what did they care for ideology? That was what governments cared about and argued over.

And it was those arguments which became the wars.

The people of Earth were tired of the death, the destruction, the pointlessness of it all. War should be avoided at all costs, and the only way to do so was to remove its causes.

No, there would be no war this time.

Nor in the future.

The people had spoken, and they were just.

And they kept their promise. All weapons of mass destruction were gathered and destroyed, save a few, which were rendered inert and put on display in museums and public squares as reminders of just how close the madness had come to becoming the instrument of man’s extinction.

The people of the world formed a new government. The Grand Council of United Earth was made up of common people, not the royalty who had once again betrayed them by plotting to unleash destruction upon them.

Earth was finally at peace.

Peace.

Charley lingered over the word for a moment. The thought filled him with a warmth that melted the biting cold.

Peace.

The most important event in all of Earth’s history.

Until now.

Three days ago, the sky became darkened with alien crafts of dazzling variety, their details clear. Charley watched, in shock, the images beamed to the closed-circuit monitors from orbiting satellites.

Ships as large as whole cities, round and intricately constructed.

Ships as small as children, cylindrical and plain.

Shape and size were secondary to the fear each instilled, for they were locked in a singular purpose. Invasion? War? Destruction? It didn’t matter, as it all added up to the same thing.

Desperate pleas for friendship were transmitted on all known frequencies aimed directly at the grand armada.

Nothing.

No one knew what to do. Nor what to expect.

Aliens. The idea of beings from another world sent shock waves rippling through everyone. With the space program abandoned due to cost and lack of apparent potential in the face of the growing population problems half a century earlier, the search for extraterrestrial life was relegated to the entertainment business.

All there was to do was wait. And hope. Hope for some miracle that these beings would go away.

But go away they did not. Their numbers increased until, at last, on the third day since their arrival, their purpose became clear.

A new armada showed on the radar beams probing into space.

A new threat.

Was Earth to become a battleground between two great galactic powers?

Scrambling for ideas, Earth sent out more messages, now aimed at the two star fleets in high orbit.

Like an itch needing to be scratched, Earth had been heard and understood.

The one force, identifying itself as the Alliance, warned not to interfere with matters between them and their opponents, the Empire.

The Empire’s message, short bursts of data streams sent in rapid succession, could not be deciphered.

Realizing the stakes, Earth’s leaders scrambled for ideas to effect a solution. Diplomacy, the one item left in her arsenal, was offered. A summit that, if Earth were lucky, would avert a war unlike any in its history.

If she were lucky.

A site was chosen, and arrangements were hurriedly set.

The summit would get underway as quickly as possible, with only one agenda item on the Earthers’ minds. Peace must be established, no matter what. Concede whatever is necessary to keep out of their war.

And so it was. The dignitaries came together and, for the first time, Earthers looked at the beings.

A spark of greatness flared as commentators quietly mused on the mission’s underlying importance. At the least, perhaps the battle would be fought some distance from this small planet, and the people of Earth would be spared the horror of yet another war.

But there was another possibility.

A warm feeling of renewed hope began permeating the populace as word spread of this other possibility. What if Earth, as insignificant to these galactic powers as specks of stellar dust on their armor, were to make peace between these two opposing sides?

The thought of galactic peace brought a sense of excitement to everyone who realized the importance of such a feat.

The world soon was abuzz with the idea of conquering all without raising so much as an angry finger.

The time was precisely 1400 hours when the first diplomats from the Alliance and Empire came together for the banquet offered by the finest chefs on Earth. It was a gesture of support for both sides to indulge in a relaxed atmosphere. Food and refreshments from the more or less neutral party ensured trust and honorable behavior from those on the verge of annihilating a people they hardly acknowledged.

Charley was an aide to the Grand Council of the United Earth, a post he enjoyed as it brought him to the furthest reaches of the planet.

And now it had brought him even further than that.

He felt privileged to be among the guests participating in this monumental gathering.

He watched in awe as aids from both sides sampled all that was offered. But their sampling was done by chemical analysis rather than by taste.

They could not afford the possibility of being poisoned, so everything was tested.

Suddenly, an imperial aide threw up an appendage and shouted something in his own language. Immediately, other imperial aides began clearing the banquet tables of wine bottles, dumping them carelessly on the floor of the hall.

Curiosity set in, and Charley bravely approached one of the aids with a questioning look.

The aide immediately turned to him, shouting something.

It took Charley only a couple of seconds to realize what the aide was trying to convey.

“Poison!”

There was no poison in the wine. Charley knew that. The stakes were far too high for anything so foolish as that.

Charley thought for a moment about what could have shown up as poison.

Perhaps the wine itself? Perhaps the alcohol? No, they seemed perfectly happy with the ale and the hard spirits.

Charley’s puzzlement grew as only the wines, both red and white, were discarded. Even the Dom Perignon was cast aside like stagnant water.

He chuckled as he watched the mound of bottles grow. No one was to touch a drop.

Charley’s mouth watered at the sight of so much waste, but he knew not to question the decision.

Eating began two hours later. Everything was offered in unlimited supply, and the dignitaries were not shy of gorging themselves. It seemed strange to Charley that this food, alien to the aliens, would find such a following among them.

But here it was as the bellies began to bulge.

Charley watched as, now and then, the Imperial dignitaries ingested colored tablets.

The Alliance counterparts seemed to rely on taking sips from small vials hidden in their formal wear.

Perhaps this is what allowed them to digest the amount that no human possibly could.

The mood seemed to grow warmer as talks began between the opposing leaders. The Earthers hadn’t even begun to intervene, yet these two sides seemed to be doing just fine on their own.

Dessert followed the gorging as each dignitary first refused to add more to their plates, patting themselves wherever their stomachs would be. But they gave into their indulgences with only a little prodding.

Strangely, the partakers consumed the desserts with the same abandon as the main courses, which Charley had lost count of.

Strange, too, that the most sought-after was the green, jiggly mass of gelatin laden with fruit cocktail. Of all the delectable foods offered, this lime-flavored expanse was perhaps the simplest. Charley noted the puzzled look from the testers scanning the gelatin. He also noted the confused chatter among them before they seemed to nod their approval, sighing in relief as plates were piled high with this most simple of desserts.

And, ironically, the deadliest.

One by one, the Imperial Ambassadors and Generals alike fell in crumpled heaps upon the wine-laden floor.

Shouts of outrage and vengeance quickly filled the hall. Just as quickly, those shouts fell silent. Betrayal was the last gasp Charley heard before being struck unconscious.

Now, once again, he stared at the yellowed page torn from an old notebook. No longer did that page look as barren as the surrounding landscape. No longer were his thoughts a jumble of colliding images.

Again, he heard the bird of prey’s shrill call; only now did he see its true form. Great wings cast a shadow of fear through him. Its pointed metal head aimed at him, its sheer size and speed spinning tornado-like winds that whipped the dust into a frenzy, and he realized this was not a bird or any other creature of the Earth.

As the thunder of the attack rumbled closer, he had time left for one last thought before the Armageddon would claim what he knew was only the beginning of the end.

With his fingers trembling, he focused all his strength on the last entry that would explain the death of an entire world.

“The grapes in the…”

And then, for him, there was silence.