Primordia 3: The Lost World—Re-Evolution

CHAPTER 01

Andy carefully lowered the sail, an inch at a time. He had to be careful and quiet — several times his boat was investigated by creatures that glided beneath him in the warm, soupy water, rolling to look up from the depths with one large eye and regard him with interest or disdain, but thankfully, not hunger.

It had taken him months to hop up along the coastline, trying to stay far enough out to avoid the big crocs, but also not so far that he went over the edge of the shelf into the deep blue-black water, and ended up in mosasaur territory.

Luckiest man in the world, he had thought. Only man in the world, he corrected.

At a long spit extending out into the sea, Andy allowed the small boat to drift in toward the marshy shoreline, and felt the bow slide in on the bank’s mud and stick fast. He lowered himself down below the gunwale, just letting his eyes rise to the top edge and moving them over the landscape.

The heat beat down on his neck and shoulders and he sniffed, smelling the warming silt, bringing with it the odors of brine, sulfur, rotting vegetation, and also something sweet that might have been animal decomposition.

“Gluck.”

“Shush.” Andy grabbed the small pterosaur’s beak with a hand missing the two small fingers and held it for a moment. He gave it a stern look for a few seconds, and then released it.

The tiny creature cocked its head, and briefly turned one ruby eye on him, before hopping closer.

Andy shook his hand and flexed the remaining fingers; it still hurt even though it had been over a year since he lost the digits. He opened the hand to look at it. That’s what happens when you doze in a boat while leaving one hand dangling over the side, he thought. He was lucky that whatever creature had traveled up from the depths and grabbed his hand was small, and its teeth razor sharp — otherwise, he might have lost more than his pride and a few fingers.

He sighed and turned back to the bank. The ground looked muddy but not bog-like, and he had pulled up in the mouth of an estuary. There was a river further in, and huge tree limbs grew over its top, making it look like a giant, mysterious green cave. Either side of the jungle was thick, and though it didn’t look impenetrable, it would be harder going than trying to navigate the waterway.

But, he’d have to keep the sail drawn in. It didn’t matter much as there didn’t look to be a breath of wind in there, and for sure he’d get snagged on the lower branches.

“Anyone home?” he whispered, and then chuckled. He was impatient to jump out and stretch his legs. But if the years had taught him one thing, it was that the creatures that lived in this time were masters of camouflage and ambush. Caution and patience had kept him alive so far, and that’s how he wanted to keep it.

The scream that pierced the air made him cringe down low for a moment. Even the small reptile flattened itself to the bottom of the boat. Andy looked up, and then higher. There was a solitary tree close to the waterline that stood about 70 feet tall and had all the branches on one side wind-blasted off. In its few remaining spiny-looking branches, medium-sized pterosaurs jostled and argued amongst themselves for a moment before settling down again. And then they turned to watch Andy with gimlet eyes and pointed, toothed beaks.

“Friends of yours?” he asked, but his little buddy said nothing, probably spooked by the bad language used by his bigger cousins.

Andy also desperately wanted to see his country, long, long before it actually became a country. He wanted to stand on hills, or in valleys, or on raw coastlines, seeing them in their infancy, and then picture what they would be like in the future.

He wanted to visit fossil bone beds, and other places where he had found prehistoric remains, with the hope of perhaps seeing those very beasts when they were alive. How cool would that be? Impossibly cool, he thought.

His determination was proving a challenge to logic and reality, but he was still alive, and had only had to pay with a few fingers so far — a small price.

“Are we there yet?”

“Huh?” Andy turned to look down at the small creature that just cocked its head staring up at him. He shook it away. He knew it was his imagination wanting to fill the void of loneliness with an imaginary friend. I’m not insane yet, he thought, and then he grinned. Not fully anyway.

The small bird-like reptile climbed on his leg, and he gently stroked its leathery skin. “Yeah, we’re here.”

Andy smiled down at his tiny friend. He had found the baby creature when it had been abandoned after its hatching. One wing was permanently stunted, and at first, he thought he’d simply eat it.

But then he wondered about the studies that queried dinosaur intelligence — were they smart? Could they ever be trained? He wanted to find out, so he kept it, and it had quickly bonded to him. And, ridiculously, he to it.

What started as a scientific experiment had yielded his only friend in the world. And a few years back, he began talking to it, and then one day, it talked back.

No, it didn’t, he reminded himself. He was a scientist and knew enough about people being alone to recognize a psychosis. Deep down, he knew that the words were really coming from somewhere in his own mind. The problem was, he didn’t really care that much.

And though he might not have admitted it, talking to someone, or some thing, was important to maintain his motivation, and remaining sanity. He thought he wouldn’t mind being alone. But he did. So it was kinda nice to be able to share his thoughts about this place with another being.

Gluck rested its long, beaked head on his thigh as it nestled on his sun-warmed leg. He guessed the tiny pterosaur wanted to be off the boat as much as he did.

Many times, Andy had pulled in at the coast on his voyage, but for the most part, he’d slept in the boat and dropped a homemade anchor of a rock tied to a length of vine to keep him in place. He’d just covered himself over in the sail and prayed he got to see the next morning.

He knew that the ocean was fraught with danger, but sleeping in the jungle meant finding shelter, like a cave, and then barricading himself in, or up a tall tree, or burying himself in mud, as he had heard Ben Cartwright had done. None of the options were as easy, or any lower risk, than just lying down in a gently rocking boat, and hoping for the best.

Andy was a paleontologist, and one thing he knew from his fossil bed excavations was that at river mouths and broad estuaries like this one, where fresh and salt water mixed and where the environment was warm, calm, and teeming with life, big things lived.

The beasts came here to lay eggs, rear young, and to hunt. If he stayed in the center of the river, he’d probably be safe, or at least safer, from attack from the shore. But in the river center was where it was deepest, and here there were also aquatic creatures that hunted. Big creatures.

Andy continued to wait and watch. Impatience got you dead, real quick. His food had run out, and his drinking water was down to about a single tepid inch in a gourd. He desperately needed more supplies.

Andy’s tools comprised of a spear, a slingshot, and something that looked like a deformed tennis racket that he used as a net. It was amazing how many small sea creatures came all the way up to the boat to investigate — close enough for him to simply scoop them out.

“Hello there.” Andy saw a small herd, or maybe flock, of a dozen or so bipedal creatures tentatively come down to the water. They were bird-like in their movements and slate grey with black-banded tails held out stiffly behind them. He bet they were lightning fast, and he marveled at the way they took turns darting down, drinking quickly, and then darting back, while a few stayed with heads high in the air, looking one way then the other.

But speed and lookouts didn’t help when you can’t see below the water. And he was right — the attack came fast. The torpedo launched itself from the river with blinding speed and brutal power.

“Yep.” Andy watched, transfixed. “Someone is home.”

The creature was about 10 feet in length, and looked like a cross between an alligator and a seal. He rattled off some suspects. “Uberasuchus, definitely a mosasauroid, and maybe even a form of Pannoniasaurus—bloody beautiful.”

The tiny pterosaur climbed higher on his leg and looked over the gunwale.

“Gluck.”

“Yeah, sure, but are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Andy grinned. “I think for us, that was a good thing.”

Andy knew that the upside of seeing the attack was though the predator might have been big enough to attack Andy if it had the chance, it wasn’t big enough to take on his boat. Added to that, it had just fed.

“We can do this.”

He lifted the paddle and gently stroked in toward the mouth of the estuary. The water depth shallowed quickly as they passed over a sandbar, and looking over the side, he saw silver bony fish darting back and forth in the lukewarm water.

On the bottom, a five-foot, leathery-looking disc glided over the sand. The primitive stingray was mottled like a parlor rug, and had more of a shark-like tail, not the whip-like ones of modern times. Andy knew they were another ancient species of cartilaginous fish that’d been around for 200 million years, or rather, 100 million more than now.

Once over the sandbar, the water deepened again, and Andy moved away from the river mouth center where the water was becoming a dark green. The estuary was over 100 feet across and quickly narrowed to about 50 further in where the river began.

He gently paddled to within 10 feet of the bank where he could see the bottom — far enough away from the shore to hopefully dissuade larger land-based predators from lumbering after him, and close enough that if he did get attacked by an aquatic carnivore, he had a chance of making it off the water.

Looking over the side, he saw that the silt was striped with mollusk tracks, some of them quite wide. If he got the opportunity, he’d grab some as they’d be a couple of mouthfuls of great protein.

There were also a few nautiloids hovering mid-water for a moment or two, before they all turned in the same direction to zoom away when he approached. He’d tried eating them before but found they exuded something cloyingly sweet that tainted their flesh.

Ripples ahead made him stroke a little harder, and just below the surface, several foot-long fish were heading toward the bank. Andy gave the boat one more powerful stroke, letting them glide, and then grabbed his net. He lunged, scooping back toward him.

“Yes.” He netted one, bringing it into the boat where its muscular body flipped and shivered, making a sound like drumming against the wood. Andy put his foot on it to quiet it, and Gluck immediately set upon it.

“Hey, wait up there, little buddy.” He pushed the pterosaur away, and it glared and opened its bony-looking wings in annoyance but then stayed close so it could keep its beady eyes on the fish.

Andy took his foot off it and tipped it out of the vine net where it flopped to the boat bottom.

“Whoa, weird. What are you?”

The thing was grey, but without scales, sort of like a catfish, and had what could have been bristles all along its streamlined body. No obvious gills, and a flattened head. But the weirdest thing was that its flippers appeared strong, and they ended in tiny-clawed toes.

“Rudimentary limbs? Synapsid? Therapsid?” It was the name given to the earliest of creatures that began to transition to mammals. “Don’t remember you from the fossil record.” He knew though that thousands upon thousands of species just never became fossilized due to being in the wrong place, were the wrong composition, or were just too damn rare to begin with.

It flipped one last time, and he put a foot back on it to keep it still. “I wonder what you’ll become in another 100 million years?” He chuckled. “I mean, what would you have become?”

Gluck waddled forward and pecked at it again.

“I know, right, it’s amazing, but formally out of the evolutionary gene pool. Because today, it’s dinner.”

“Hungry.” Gluck pecked harder.

“I know you didn’t just say that.” Andy pushed the small pterosaur back a step, but it bustled forward. “Okay, okay.” Andy set to cutting up the strange creature, some for his companion, some for himself, and some left to dry in the sun.

CHAPTER 02

Montgomery wasn’t a big town by anyone’s standards; in fact, only 621 people at last count. It was sparse, friendly, and close to the National Park and beautiful Lake Conroe. Summers were hot and humid, the winters mild. Many say it’s more subtropical than true Texan weather.

No one could really remember when the first cats and dogs went missing. But it might have been around the time of the blackout. It only occurred for a few seconds, and not everyone even saw it, but straight after, everyone learned that any pet left outside at night never came home in the morning. Bears and mountain lions were suspected, action demanded, and hunters were dispatched.

Then, they caught something.

The three hunters stood around their kill. It was laid out in front of them, and though a few people held phone cameras loosely in their hands, no one took pictures as they all simply stared in silence, brows drawn together in confusion.

It was a bird, sort of, stretching 10 feet from beak to claw. It was a little like an ostrich, except the head was two feet in length, ferocious-looking, and with a huge trap-like serrated beak. The claws on the end of its powerful legs would have been more at home on some prehistoric creature as they were fearsome-looking scaly talons.

The plumage was red and brown, and flightless wings were tucked tight in against a barrel body.

Mitch Connors, the local MD, and the closest thing they had to a science type, leaned in closer, and then grunted.

“Terror Turkey.”

The crowd turned to him.

He nodded. “Yep, now I remember, called a Phorusrhacid. Rare, but they come out of the forest this time of year.” He looked up at the crowd. “Dontcha remember?”

Billy Douglas began to slowly nod. “Oh, yeah, I do. Now I remember.”

Then they all did.

CHAPTER 03

Ben Cartwright hung on the cliff face, resting and sucking in deep breaths. He turned and looked out over the landscape. The cliff face he and Emma were on was of medium difficulty, but it was high, and afforded a view for miles over the forested landscape.

Elm, spruce, ash, and other tree varieties all competed for sunlight and created a multi-hued mosaic as they crowded together over the breathtaking landscape. Ben grinned; it looked inviting, safe, and felt like home.

He couldn’t help his mind going back to a similar vista where he looked out over another forest from upon high — that one, the Cretaceous jungle of 100 million years ago. Back then, there were more dangers in a single square mile than this place where there was the occasional bear, mountain lion, or skinny wolf. In that time and place, there were things that were monstrously huge, cunning, and hunted with senses well beyond those of the soft, pink, hairless apes called mankind.

When he was trapped there, he’d had to hide buried in mud, in caves, and on treetops. He’d eaten carrion, insects, grass, and anything he could find to stay alive. His body became crisscrossed with more scars in a few months than his entire time with Special Forces operations.

He was about to turn away, when an odd tingling feeling washed through his body. And then everything blacked out.

“What the…?”

It was over as quickly as it started and Ben looked up to see if something had passed over the sun, but the sky was as cloudless and azure as ever. Looking down again, his eyes narrowed as he gazed out over the trees — something about them now. Different. He hung on the rope and tried to tease it out, but it wouldn’t come.

It’s nothing, he thought, and pulled himself back to the moment. He was here now, home, and he had survived his ordeal. He was safe.

Ben grinned, then laughed out loud, and then threw his head back. “I’m alive.”

“You won’t be for long if you don’t hurry up, buster.”

Ben grinned wider and looked up. Emma was already at the top, standing on the very cliff edge, unafraid, with her hands on perfect hips. Her tanned, muscled shoulders gleamed with perspiration in the sunlight.

He chuckled and started to climb again. Though she was the expert climber, she had taken him on more climbs now than he could remember. It had made him stay fit, in top shape, and though there were silver streaks in his hair, he was still as tough as iron — at least in his book.

He began to climb faster, and his arms and shoulders screamed. He bet he’d need a good soak in a warm tub, plus a few cold beers after this one.

He reached the top and shook his arms and hands out, letting the muscles unwind. He grinned at her.

“Funny, it looked a lot easier from all the way down there.”

Emma smiled back, her green eyes crinkling at the corners. To him, she was still as beautiful as ever, and though the years had lined the corners of her eyes and mouth, and the sun had given her a million more freckles across the nose and cheeks, she still made his heart leap.

She held her arms wide. “But didn’t I just hear you say you feel alive up here, Captain Cartwright?”

“I sure did. After all, you have to be alive to feel pain, right.” He grimaced theatrically.

“Oh, you big baby.” She walked right up to the cliff edge again and peered over, absolutely fearless. “Climb down, or via the path?”

He held up both hands. “Two votes for the path.”

She laughed. “Deal, but we jog, okay?”

He groaned. “Can we enjoy the view for a few more moments?”

He sat down on a rock, she beside him. Nine years had passed since Emma had ventured to the dark heart of the Amazon Jungle to find him and bring him home. The psychological scars for both of them ran deep, and would take a lot longer to heal, but would never ever fade from their memories.

Ben looked up at the sky. Soon, the comet, Primordia, would arrive back again. Frankly, he didn’t want to give a shit, but every year at this time, it managed to creep back into his consciousness. It was an evil anniversary that had burned itself deep into his brain.

He felt Emma’s thigh rub up against his and he felt he was the luckiest man alive. He sighed and looked back out over the view. The trees drew his attention again.

“Hey, Em, the forest, what’s different about it?”

She stood and walked to the precipice edge and put a hand above her eyes. Her head turned slowly as she scanned along the treetops. She began to shake her head and looked over her shoulder.

“Sorry, I love the view, but I’m usually more focused on the rock faces.” She turned and walked back to him, and came and tapped his broad chest. “You’re the ex-special forces guy supposed to be observing things.”

She was right, he was, and he did. He smiled crookedly up at her for a moment and looked back to the trees. He was sure those pine trees weren’t there before. And they were huge, abnormally huge, and for some reason, familiar.

He wracked his mind, but it just wouldn’t come. He gave up, smiling up at Emma who was still half-turned to him and looking out at the trees again. He smacked her tight butt.

“Okay, last one down buys the beers.” He began to sprint.

CHAPTER 04

Comet P/2018-YG874, designate name, Primordia, had finished its elliptical curve around the sun and was on its way back toward Earth. In a few more months, it would be at its apparition point — the closest point to Earth where it becomes visible to the naked eye.

At that time, its astral effects would be felt, but only in one place on the globe — a tabletop mountain, or tepui, deep in the Venezuelan jungles of the Amazon. Primordia had done this for 100 million years, and maybe would for 100 million more.

Unless.

At the other end of space in a circumstellar disc in the outer Solar System, approximately 31 million miles from the sun in a place called the Kuiper belt, an astral body rushed to join the countless other fragments of space debris that already existed there.

Most of the astral bodies were small, made up of little more than frozen gases such as methane, ammonia, and water, and were remnants from when the Solar System was formed. But other suspended bodies were of titanic proportions, and were composed of dense rock and metals.

The newcomer was traveling at bullet speed as it entered the Kuiper belt, and just like in a game of pool, its velocity and mass on collision caused some of the other asteroids to be exploded away from it, and thus, out of the belt.

They were scattered throughout the solar system and beyond. But one of them was sent on a voyage into the heart of the Solar System — toward Earth.

CHAPTER 05

The flight home to Greenberry, Ohio took under two hours. Several times, Ben had felt the tingling waves rush through him, making his stomach flip. He also saw the light flick on and off briefly, like a temporary power outage makes the light bulb in a room blink. Once he turned to see Emma’s brows knitted as well, so guessed he wasn’t the only one.

The taxicab dropped them back at the huge family home by early evening. His mother, Cynthia, had passed away a few years back, and now Ben was the new owner. The family estate, assets, as well as the history of the house now all belonged to him, and his wife, Emma.

Ben dropped the bags on the front porch and checked his watch. Zach, their 6-year-old son had been staying with a friend, so this might be the last getaway he and Emma did by themselves. She was determined to take him with them next time, already having him practice on the climbing wall at the local gym.

Zach was being dropped back after dinner, and Ben looked north toward the tree line of their estate, gauging how much time he had to do his last chore. Belle, their aging Labrador, was also having a sleepover with their closest neighbors, Frank and Allie — who overfed her, let her sleep on their couch, and never even bothered to sound off at her when she tracked muddy paws in on the rug. It was a wonder she ever wanted to come home afterward, and probably wouldn’t except Zach was her unofficial fur-brother.

The house was big and would feel empty now. Emma had opened the front door, and he tossed their bags inside.

“Are you gonna get Belle? You can forget about us, because she’ll be the first one that Zach looks for when he gets back.” He heard her rummaging inside.

“Yeah.” He knew she was right. “Kids and their dogs, with Mom and Dad a distant second.”

“Good man; I’ll make you something for when you get back with our four-legged fur-bag.” He heard her chuckle inside.

“Great.” Ben reached inside and grabbed his car keys. “Make mine something that rhymes with: cold deer.”

“Cold ear?” She leaned out and grinned. “You got it.”

Ben laughed as he jogged down the steps and headed to the garage. He took the SUV, revving some life into the cold engine, and then headed down their long driveway to the road.

The properties were big here, so it’d take him a good 20 minutes to reach Frank and Allie’s place across a few miles and some gently sloping hills. They were a nice couple, a little older than Ben and Emma — he a retired engineer, and she still doing something in IT consultancy. Their own kids had grown up and moved away, and their big house just had them rolling around in it now, so any chance they had to look after Belle or Zach, they grabbed it.

Ben pulled into their laneway and headed up the small hill toward their bungalow. Oddly, Belle didn’t come bounding toward him when she heard the car, or even as he stepped out.

He paused to look one way then the other—probably being fed again, he thought. Never get between Belle the belly and a snack, he guessed.

The porch light came on, the front door squeaked open, and Frank stepped out, holding a cup of coffee. He waved.

“Hi, stranger.”

Ben smiled and walked up toward him. “Howdy, Frank. Nice evening.”

“Sure is,” Frank said. “Coffee? Beer?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Ben replied. He turned about, hiking his shoulders. “Where’s the old girl?”

Frank frowned. “Allie?”

Ben grinned. “Yeah, right.” He came up to the porch and held out a hand for him to shake it.

Frank grabbed it. “Okay, welcome back, neighbor. So what can I really do for you?” He released Ben’s hand and waited.

“Uh, the fur-kid?” Ben still waited for the joke to play out. “You must have really spoiled her this time for her to be keeping her head down.”

Frank’s frown deepened. “Not getting it, buddy?”

Ben liked Frank, but after being away for a few days, he just wanted to get his dog and then get home. “Belle, my dog; can I get her, please? I’m a little tired.”

“Your what?” Frank stepped back a pace, as Allie came to the door.

“Hi, Ben, welcome back. Emma with you?” She looked from Ben to Frank and then back again. “Everything okay?”

Ben nodded, smiling again. “Yeah, sure Allie. Just came to get Belle. Can’t find her.”

“Belle?” Allie’s mouth quirked up in a confused smile. “Who’s Belle?”

Ben had had enough. “Guys, joke’s over. I want to get home. Thank you for looking after her, but I need to get her home before Zach gets back.”

Frank’s face became serious. “Not sure what’s going on here Ben, but you’re making no sense.”

“Belle.” Ben’s confusion was morphing into anger. “My dog.”

“Ben, there is no one here named Belle.” Frank’s voice now had taken on an edge.

Ben felt the emotional climate shift. He was angry, but he could tell the man wasn’t joking. “My dog?”

“What the hell is a dog?” Frank turned to Allie. “Best go inside now, dear. I’ll deal with this.”

Allie’s forehead was creased with concern as she gave Ben a fleeting watery smile and then disappeared back inside, closing the door behind her.

Ben felt like he was on an episode of the Twilight Zone. “My dog, Belle. She’s a Labrador. I gave her to you for minding.”

Frank reached out and put his hand on one of Ben’s broad shoulders, and gently eased him around. “Best you go home now. Get some rest, or something.” He guided Ben to the steps. “We haven’t looked after Zach for months, and certainly haven’t looked after anyone named Belle.”

“No.” Ben shrugged him off and turned. “Belle!” he yelled at the house.

He walked fast ahead of Frank, who stopped at the bottom of his steps and watched him with a careful eye.

“Belle!” Ben yelled again to the grounds. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Be-eeelle.” But no dog came bounding back.

He whistled loudly. Nothing. It didn’t make sense. The dog was well trained, and if she heard Ben’s voice, she’d come sprinting to him no matter what.

Ben spun. “Joke’s over, Frank. Where’s my fucking dog?”

Frank was 15 years older and probably 50 pounds lighter, but he lowered his head and squared his bony shoulders. “Son, I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. You’re frightening my wife, and pissing me off. Go home and cool down. Right now.”

Ben walked away a few paces, hands on hips, and threw his arms in the air. “Fuck it.” He was more concerned about what Zach would think than anything else.

He stormed back to the SUV, climbed in, started the engine, and jammed his foot down on the accelerator, spraying dirt and gravel as he spun the car around and headed to the front gate.

On the way home, his mind whirled in confusion. He knew he’d dropped Belle off. He’d seen Frank ruffle the fur on her head, and Allie pop a treat into the silly dog’s grinning mouth. He didn’t know what game they were playing but he was damn sure he’d find out.

He grumbled in the cabin of his car; he’d come back tonight with a flashlight if he had to. He was an expert tracker, and as tenacious as a wolverine.

Back on his own property, he skidded to a stop out front, shouldered open the car door, and then jogged up the steps, still muttering.

He had a thought, and stopped — maybe she ran away and they were too embarrassed to admit it. Maybe she came home and found the house empty. Ben turned and cupped his mouth.

“Belle!” He waited a second or two. “Be-eeelle!”

Emma came out holding his beer. “What’s going on?”

Ben spun to her. “The hell if I know.” He rubbed both hands up through his hair, feeling that odd tingle in his stomach again. “Something… weird.” He sighed. “Belle… you know Belle?”

“Uh, yeah.” She held out his beer. “Has something happened to her?” Her brow was furrowed as she looked up into his face.

“Yes, no, ah God, I don’t know.” He grimaced. “I took her to Frank and Allie’s, didn’t I?”

“Of course you did.” She half-folded her arms, still holding his beer. “Where is she?”

“They said I didn’t.” He scoffed. “In fact, they said they never heard of Belle.” His voice rose and he couldn’t help it. “They said they didn’t even know what a goddamn dog was!”

“That’s crazy; you must have misheard him,” she said.

“No, I asked him several times — no Belle, no dog.” He looked heavenward for a moment.

“Rubbish; we’ll go together, talk to them.” She paused. “Wait, let me grab a picture.” She vanished back inside, still holding his beer.

Ben waited, feeling a growing sense of unease in his gut. He suddenly felt like he was being set up for some weird practical joke that everyone was in on except him. All that was needed was the creepy twist at the end.

He heard Emma rummaging, and then the tone of her voice worried him even more.

“Ben?”

He raced into the house and found her in the living room by the fireplace, her hands resting on the mantle. She shook her head slowly.

“It’s gone.”

Ben looked along the items there. Everything was as he remembered — small vases, a colored stone Zach had found, and multiple pictures in silver frames. There was his mom, dad, Emma’s folks, a few of the property in different seasons, several of Zach, and then that was it. There were eight pictures, like there always was. Ben craned forward to the frames — one of the pictures was different now.

He walked toward it on stiff legs, feeling like he was in a trance. It was Zach, after football practice, grinning like a loon as he had scored the winning touchdown. His helmet was lying beside him on one side, and on the other… nothing.

“Where’s Belle?” He lifted it. “He had his hand on her head, and she was sitting, right, here.” He pointed to the empty space.

Emma’s mouth opened and closed and her eyes were blank with confusion. And he knew why — there was no golden dog, looking up at Zach with her typical, sappy, tongue-lolling grin.

Ben brought the picture close to his face, examining Zach, the grass, shadows, anything and everything, as he tried to find some sort of photo-shopping trick. He slowly shook his head.

“What the hell is going on here?” He looked at Emma whose face had drained of color.

His wife’s eyes momentarily widened and she then raced to the kitchen. He heard drawers, cupboard doors, then the pantry opening and slamming closed, and things rattling. Ben followed her in.

“It’s all gone.” She looked at him and just raised her hands, palms up. “All gone; her bowls, her food, toys, everything.” She just shook her head. “It’s like she never existed.”

“What’s a dog?” he mumbled. “Just like Frank asked.”

“This is a mistake.” Emma took the picture from him, bringing it close to her face and squinting at it.

Ben suddenly felt a deep sense of loss as if the animal had suddenly died. “She was real.” He lifted his gaze up at her. “What’s happening to us?” He smiled but without humor. “Thank God you see it too.”

“Or don’t see it, you mean.” Emma’s frown deepened.

“Mom, Dad?”

Emma’s eyes flicked up to him. “Zach… what’ll we tell him?”

Zach came belting into the kitchen but paused to spin and yell back to the door. “See you, Tim! Thank you, Mrs. Abernathy, bye!”

“Thanks, Angie,” Ben called, and heard Zach’s friend’s mom yell a farewell through the still-open door, and then close it for them.

Zach grinned widely, mop of black hair hanging over his green eyes, and rushed to kiss Emma and then hug Ben. He didn’t even notice their strained looks and instead headed for the pantry for a cookie. He came back and smiled at them through crumbs, but then stopped chewing.

“Wassup?”

Ben looked to Emma and she back to him, both waiting for the other to speak. Ben guessed it was only a matter of time, maybe minutes, before Zach asked where his buddy was, so…

“Zach, we think that Belle has gone missing.”

Zach’s brows pinched together. “Who?”

CHAPTER 06

Drake Masterson pulled on the rope tightening the sail in close to the hull, making the boat tilt toward the water in the breeze. Where he sat, he was acting as a counterbalance on the opposite gunwale, and the boat lifted the more it accelerated, requiring him to lean even further out.

He grinned as salt spray whipped his face, and his brawny forearms clung tight to the elasticized rope in one hand and the tiller with the other. The bay was warm this time of year, and a good breeze wasn’t to be wasted.

Drake’s security company was doing really well now. In fact, so well, he didn’t need to be there to oversee it anymore. So he got to spend his time doing something he always wanted to do — go sailing.

Starting from scratch, he took lessons and learned how, bought a boat, and then let himself loose on the water. Out here, it was just him, the waves, the wind, and the blue sky. In a good breeze, it made him feel like he was flying in his 25-foot Catalina Capri 22, with its flared hull, fiberglass and wood-trim design, all finished with a full racing kit.

The beautiful little boat he had named the Nellie, after his mother, also had a small cabin, and many a warm night he had pulled into a cove and slept there, with just the lapping of the water and gentle lifting of the current to rock him to sleep. Sailing was his calm after so many of life’s storms.

It allowed him one other thing as well — time to think. It had been nine years since he, Helen Martin, Emma Wilson, and Ben Cartwright had walked out of the Amazon Jungle. They’d been torn up pretty bad, but they were alive. Many who went in with them hadn’t been so lucky.

The more time passed, the more Drake felt like it never really happened. It was just all so… unreal. Down in the deep, dark heart of the Amazon, there was a tabletop mountain, a tepui, where once every 10 years it became some sort of portal back to a time of 100 million years ago.

You had to get in and out in just over 24 hours. If not, the portal closed, and you stayed. He scoffed; they’d lost five good people in the few hours they were there. Six if you counted the kid who decided to stay behind. But Ben Cartwright had survived 10 damned long years there. And they would have been 10 of the most hellish years any human being could imagine.

Drake found that anything and everything he had faced in this life, and that was a life lived fighting in Special Forces with Ben Cartwright against ruthless and bloodthirsty foes, was shaded by the creatures they encountered from that primordial time.

He laughed out loud. One thing was for sure: he gave thanks every day he was home, alive, safe, and in one piece.

Drake whooped loudly and pulled on the rope, forcing the main sail in tighter and lifting Nellie’s hull a fraction more to squeeze a few extra knots from the sleek boat.

His gut tingled from the thrill, but then the boat slowed so suddenly he lurched forward, nearly slipping to the deck.

“What the hell?”

The boat gradually continued on and there hadn’t been any loud or ominous sounds from below as if he’d hit some sort of submerged object like a log or crate or even sandbar. But he did feel like he had hit something. The only thing was, it felt more like he had hit a pillow.

Maybe it was weed, he thought, and looked over the side, and then saw half of a massive jellyfish go past.

“Je-zus,” he whispered. The thing must have been 10 feet across. He continued looking out the back and saw another half appear — his boat had cleaved the gigantic thing in two.

“A monster.”

Drake had heard there were large jellyfish in the freezing waters to the north that could grow to three feet across and weigh 100 pounds. But this thing would have been five times that.

“Weird.” He sailed on, spending another hour tacking back and forth before heading back into the sailing club.

He kept the Nellie in the small club boatshed most days, but today with the weather good, he’d leave it tied up on the water so he could get back out first thing tomorrow morning.

He quickly grabbed his gear, tidied up, flushed down the sails, ropes, and deck with fresh water, and then climbed out to stand on the sun-warmed wooden pier to tilt his face into the sunshine and just absorb its warmth.

Life was good right now, and he wondered how his best friend, Ben, was getting on. He hoped he and Emma had found their little piece of paradise as he had found his.

He had everything he wanted. Nah, almost everything; he lost Helen, and now and then he missed her terribly. He wished she were here now so he could tell her about the jellyfish. He sighed, feeling the sun warm his cheeks. Time moves on, he thought, and sometimes things, get left behind.

Drake finally opened his eyes and turned to the clubhouse that had a bar and restaurant, and then faced the long stretch of beach to the south. The sun was just starting to sink, making the tide line glow orange. A few sand pipers on long legs waited for waves to draw back so they could race down to peck at small crustaceans that became momentarily exposed, and then striding back up as another waved lapped in at them.

While he watched, a large wave came in and the few pipers went to turn to outrun it when a section of the wave lifted and threw itself forward, like a watery hand.

It completely covered one of the birds, slapping down on it, and Drake then saw that the watery hand was actually one edge of a huge jellyfish like he had seen out on the water. The thing had trapped one of the birds and was slowly pulling it back into the surf-line. Revoltingly, he could still see the bird through the jelly body as it vainly struggled.

Drake turned about, hoping to see someone else to point the weird occurrence out to, but no one was there.

“That is fucked up.” He quickly pulled out his phone to try and get a picture, but in the next few seconds, the massive jellyfish and the trapped bird were gone.

Weirdest thing, he thought. He’d ask someone about it at the club tonight.

CHAPTER 07

Andy stopped paddling and let the rustic boat glide forward as their estuary stream opened out to a larger body of water. At the narrow mouth, the water surged a little as if the pond was a tad higher, and to enter, Andy would have had to either paddle hard or get out and drag his boat up into the bigger body of water.

If he did have to get out, he’d do it on the bank rather than wade in the water. Mainly because a while back the water had lost its clarity, and where he was now it was tepid, brown, and like weak coffee. It wasn’t stagnant and the discoloration was more likely from the amount of rotting vegetation and tannins in the pond, and also the fact that it probably only got fully flushed out after a heavy rain.

None of this concerned him. But what did was he had seen the water lump at the far end when the body of something large came to the surface. It could have been a freshwater mosasaur, one of the many primitive crocodile species, or even a turtle the size of a small car.

If he tried to drag the boat from the water, the turtle he might be able to out run. But anything else and he’d be fish food.

Shit, he whispered.

“Gluck.”

Andy looked down at the small flying reptile.

“Somebody home?” Gluck had its head tilted to have one ruby red eye fixed on him.

He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, there is somebody home, and somebody that’s big.” Andy lent his forearms on the gunwale. “We can’t go in there. They’re home, and believe me, I’m betting they would love to meet us.”

He continued to watch for many more minutes before coming to a decision. He cursed again, knowing it was going to cost him time and ramp up the risk. He began to paddle in to the closest bank.

Andy nosed into the reeds, making something slither away and vanish into the murky depths, and then the boat grounded and held.

He set about dragging it up higher to beach it, and then climbed back in to gather his things together into a satchel he’d made from woven fibers like the primitive tribes in Papua New Guinea. He’d drawn on his knowledge of ancient tribal craft, and had also managed to self-learn how to make a form of animal hide rustic boots, trousers, and vest. He had gourds for fresh water, now empty, and lastly, into the bag went Gluck who immediately settled down.

He knelt in the boat and took one last look toward where he had seen the large shape. His eyes narrowed as he scanned along the water’s now-still surface. There was no breeze, and just the zumm of insects from the reed beds. The sun warmed the water and the bank, and he smelled the fresh silt, plants, and a dozen other odors. If he hadn’t seen the thing come to the surface briefly, he would never know it was there.

He knew that big crocs like the Deinosuchus or Mourasuchus lived around this area at this time and could potentially follow him out of the water. But they were big, up to 40 feet, weighed many tons, and would be slow. And as the jungle looked dense here, they’d give up quickly.

He grimaced. There was one thing that could follow and catch him, probably before he even went a dozen feet, and didn’t mind hunting in water.

“Please don’t be a Titanoboa.”

He continued to watch for a few more minutes, wishing his sister, Helen, was here to ask. She was the real expert on the giant snake’s behavior.

There was something else he wanted to ask her: why did the snakes only seem to inhabit the plateau top? In all the time he’d been here, he’d never seen one away from the tabletop mountain. What was it about that site that they preferred? A mystery for another day, he thought.

Andy turned back to the jungle. There were trees that might have been mighty banyan with massive roots interspaced with ferns, bracken, palms, and all manner of weird tongue-like plants. Fungi grew from the bark in shelf-like plates of orange, brown, or brick red. And everything glistened like it was damp.

The deep jungle always worried him, and he much preferred the water where he could see what was coming — at least above the surface. Just looking at the tangle of green madness made him feel claustrophobic and nervous as hell.

One upside is at least I’ll be able to forage on the way, he thought. He knew he wasn’t eating enough plant material, and it didn’t take long on a meat diet to develop things like scurvy and rickets, with the associated bleeding gums and then tooth drop.

Down beside the boat, some sort of mollusk was gliding along the bottom, and he reached over to grab it. It was the size of his fist, and immediately the foot extended from the shell like a long blue tongue. He leaned out again to rip up some leaves and rolled the large aquatic snail inside to keep it fresh, and then added it to his bag for a later meal.

He peeked in. “No fighting, you two.”

“Gluck.” Gluck glared.

“I know it smells funny; and you don’t?” He grinned and closed the bag.

Andy often wondered about whether anything he was doing now would make a difference in the future. Before he came, he had done some homework on the subject, and he’d read many theoreticians who said, yes it would, and many more who disagreed and stated that the future was immutable, and anything he did was destined to have happened anyway.

Perhaps without him, the future wouldn’t have been as he remembered it. The bottom line was, the time paradox was unknowable.

Andy took one last look back toward the body of water, and then stepped out of his boat. He stood for a moment, turning slowly until a broad smile split his face.

“I christen thee, America.”

He entered the jungle.

CHAPTER 08

Helen Martin carefully dusted the nub of long mineralized bones. Though there was only an outline of the skull showing, her experienced paleontological eye had already guessed it was going to be significant, and her excitement grew with every wipe of her brush.

It was from the Triceratops species and it was different — it had front-facing horns, unlike anything else they’d discovered here. And the head was big — six feet long and abnormally crested.

She paused to look at her surroundings: sand, clay, dunes, shelves of hard rock, and a few hardy plants.

The Elmo site was a veritable gold mine for dinosaur fossils, and especially Allosaurus skeletons. They were big theropods, with massive, boxy heads filled with tusk-like teeth. Finding a new Allosaurus skeleton was cool, but finding something even more rare was 100 times cooler.

She turned her head to sneeze, the dryness and dust tickling her nose, but in a good way. Though the area she and her team worked was dry now, in the late Cretaceous period, it was a lush swamp bordering an inland sea, filled with a variety of huge plant-eaters, and hunting them, the carnivores.

At that time period, there was an elevated sea level that split North America in two. The western landmass was called Laramidia and included what is now the west coast of Canada and the United States. To the east was the equally large Appalachia, the mountainous island landmass.

Helen wiped her brow and rested on her haunches. Her specialty had been prehistoric snakes, especially the Titanoboa, but for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to even look at that species anymore.

Maybe it was the fact that she had nearly been killed by one herself, and also had seen people crushed and eaten alive by the creatures. It had taken her years to get over the physical and psychological trauma she had suffered. Adding to her pain was the knowledge that her little brother, Andy, was still back there.

Her eyes glistened as she stared down at the nubs of bone showing. Maybe one day I’ll dig him up, she thought, and then laughed. But there was little humor in it. Her nose tickled again, but this time it was from melancholy memories.

She hated that she was alone now. After they survived their ordeal, she and Drake had dated for a few years, but then drifted apart. She guessed they both reminded each other of a horrible experience, and distance from anything that reminded them of those terrible events was the only way to truly heal the psychological wounds.

“Ooh.” Helen felt the tingle ripple through her belly and placed a hand on her stomach, just as the sunshine flicked off and then a few seconds later, back on. She blinked, wondering whether she had only imagined it.

She looked around, finding her two students helping on the dig and earning bonus credits for their final. Edward Ramirez and Elizabeth Shelley were both competent, fun, and she could count on them to be meticulous in everything they did. Neither of them looked up or seemed confused about what just happened, so it must have been her imagination, or maybe even dehydration.

Helen uncapped her water bottle and sipped, letting her eyes travel over the dig site. There seemed more greenery now, or maybe she just hadn’t noticed it before.

To her far left, Edward worked on a wall of shale-like material with an overhang of some sort of bush dangling over him. It was a great spot he’d found, as he had access to the fossil layers and a natural canopy against the harsh sunshine.

She watched him for a moment more and saw that the bush over him had what looked like large cherries in amongst its foliage — strange, as out here, most things struggled to survive in the dryness and nutrient-poor soil, so fruit was a luxury most plants couldn’t afford to produce.

She was about to turn away, but then noticed one of the cherries, a particularly large and red one, seemed to be lowered down closer to the young man. In a few seconds, it was mere inches above him, and then to her amazement, it exploded in a puff of what looked like powder or gas.

Edward eased to the ground as though resting.

What the hell? She straightened, a frown creasing her forehead.

“Edward,” she said loudly enough for the young man to hear. One side of her mouth quirked up in bewilderment, but in the next second, her confused smile fell away when she saw the tendrils drop from the bush above him.

“Hey!” Helen got to her feet.

Her other student, Elizabeth, turned.

“Hey!” Helen shouted again and quickly looked down at her tools, snatching up a small and sharp metal shovel. She saw the tendrils begin to gently wrap around the young man, and then once coiled, horrifyingly, his body began to be lifted from the ground.

Shit. She ran at him.

Edward was out cold, and Helen raised the shovel above her head, and then swung it forward like a machete, severing some of the thinner vines. But the thicker ones were elastic enough to resist her blows.

She went to snatch at the vine-tendrils but saw that they were covered in small, serrated thorns and these had already hooked themselves into Edward’s clothing and exposed flesh.

Elizabeth joined her with a small pick, and together they bashed, hacked, and chopped at the vines and bush until the combined attack proved too much for the plant and the young man rolled free. Elizabeth dropped her pick, grabbed the young man by the shoulders, and dragged him away.

Helen stood, staring in disbelief as her chest heaved. She saw that where the spots of Edward’s blood had dropped to the ground, tips of vines gently tapped on it as though like a cat lapping at a plate of cream.

She took a few cautious steps closer and then could just make out in amongst the plant roots there nestled bones — lizards, some birds, and even what might have been a coyote skull.

“What the hell is going on?” She turned about.

Elizabeth was gently wiping Edward’s wounds with a damp handkerchief. “Vampire Dodder,” she said. “We should have known they’d grow in this area.”

“What?” Helen’s mouth hung open, and she turned to stare for a moment. “What is that thing?”

Elizabeth tilted her head, confusion crossing her youthful features. “I only just remembered — the Vampire Dodder. It’s a parasitic vine that can be a real problem. Pretty common in these parts; you know that.”

Helen shook her head and felt slightly nauseous as another tickling ripple ran through her body. “I’ve never seen, or even heard of that thing before in my life.” She turned back to the plant that had now reset its thorny tendrils, waiting patiently for something to blunder too close again.

Somehow something had changed, and the more she thought about it, the more she got a sinking sensation in her stomach. She rubbed her forehead, wondering why she seemed to be out of sync with everyone else. Why did the plant seem so alien to her, but normal to everyone else?

But then she did sort of remember. Not this type of plant, and not here and now. But when they were hacking through the jungle of the Late Cretaceous, there had been something similar. So what was it doing here, in this place, and in this time?

A worm of worry coiled inside her. She needed to talk to someone, urgently, and there was one someone she could trust who had experienced everything she had.

CHAPTER 09

Drake was back out on the bay, heading out, and already about 2,000 feet from the shoreline where the water darkened as the sea bottom sloped away to about 200 feet of deep blue. There was a slight chop on the surface, but his streamlined Nellie cut through it like a hot knife through butter.

Several times last night and once this morning, the weird blackouts had occurred, accompanied by the tingling that started in his belly and then washed right through him. No one he talked to seemed to have noticed, and when he brought it up with a guy on the dock, he just stared back as though Drake probably needed to see a doctor, rather than it being an external phenomenon.

One thing that the Amazon had taught him was that life was short and should never be taken for granted. Enjoy it while you got it… so, he simply pushed it from his thoughts.

He flicked his head, whipping water from his eyes, and stared dead ahead. It was a good day for sailing, and he thought it odd that no one else was out here with him. In the distance, he saw there was a lump in the water, and he craned his neck trying to get a better look, but it seemed to vanish before his eyes.

One of those weird-ass giant jellyfish, he bet. This time, he decided to get a picture and kept heading toward it. But he gave the tiller a touch so he wouldn’t sail right over the spot just in case it was something half submerged, like a log or lost shipping container. His Nellie was a Catalina Capri, built for speed and beauty, and definitely not for breaking ice packs.

The wind gusted a tad harder and the boat lifted a little and began to skip and dance across the surface. Drake was forced to lean back to stop it flipping. He was closing in on the spot he’d seen the dark shape, and as he leaned out even further, he caught sight of the thing almost right below him. His heart jumped in his chest.

There was a huge head only about 10 feet down, nearly as long as his boat, and it was attached to a long whale-like body — and worst of all, it was now trying to keep pace with him.

Drake couldn’t tear his eyes away and saw it was turned slightly on its side so as he looked down at it, it was looking back up at him. Then to his horror, he could tell it was coming up.

“Jesus Henry Christ!”

He tacked away, his hands moving furiously to drag in ropes, keep the tiller tight, and also reposition himself to rapidly build up more speed. He twisted on the gunwale to look back and saw the lump in the water breach, coming after him.

There was a plume of water mist like that from a whale, but unlike a whale, there were two instead of one, as if there were two spouts close together, like from a freaking big nose.

Drake felt his heart galloping now, and he turned ahead to see just how far he was from the shoreline — still 1,600 to 1,800 feet at least.

He angled even steeper into the wind and headed directly in. Drake was skimming now, cutting it fine between top-speed and tipping over. And that was the last thing he wanted, because he had a pretty good idea that if he went in the drink, he wouldn’t be climbing back out.

He snapped his head around for a quick look back and saw the lump still there, not gaining, but not falling away either. The huge bulk of the thing was making V-shaped waves as it chased after him. Whatever the thing was, it was damn big and fast as hell. But he had a good lead and with the wind up, he intended to keep it.

Then the Nellie hit something, soft and pillow-like, and he immediately knew he’d just run over another of those goddamn giant jellyfish. The boat’s speed was cut by three-quarters.

Drake furiously re-angled the boat, tugged in the sail, and the Nellie gathered again as the breeze lifted the boat as if a giant hand gave her a gentle push along. He was soon back up to speed, but looking back, his lead had been cut in half.

Damn, damn, damn… This can’t be happening, he thought. He left all this shit behind on that damned plateau nearly 10 years ago.

Drake whipped his head back again toward the thing following him, and then forward. His swift little boat was eating up the yards toward the beach. He didn’t have time to get back to the club wharf, so anywhere dry would do.

He looked back again and gritted his teeth. Then he hit another jellyfish and grunted as he was thrown forward.

“Fuck the fuck off!” he screamed. He madly went through the motions once again to regain his speed. He looked back and felt a cold hand on his neck — the damned thing was gaining on him. It was 500 feet back before, but now only about 200. He turned back to the beach.

Come on, baby, you can do it.

Once more his boat skipped along, and then he hit every racing boat captain’s number one enemy — the calm spot. Drake had to leap forward to stop from falling back into the water as the boat settled into the dead zone of no wind.

Oh, shit, no.

Then it was over and the wind started up again. But now he had to go from a standing start this time — slow, so slow. But up he climbed—5 knots per hour, 10, 15, 20… Drake looked back and could see the lump of the beast’s back clearly now. It was a shining gray like a whale but with darker banding. It was so close he could see a few barnacles on its back, and horrifyingly, the two large predatorial eyes were fixed right on him.

His boat skimmed fast once more, and he counted down to the shore—400 feet to go, with the thing only 100 back now. He watched it for a moment more and saw it accelerate, trying to catch him before he got away.

He turned back toward the bow and leaned forward as if this was somehow going to make him and the boat a little more aerodynamic. How far must he go before the creature decided the water was too shallow? Or could it come up on the land — remember the damn jellyfish and the bird? Impossible, he thought, begging it not to be true.

Faster, faster, faster, he urged Nellie.

Below him, he started to see clumps of weed. It must have only been about 20 feet deep here. He hurriedly turned back and saw that the thing was gone. Or had dived.

No way, it was too shallow. The boat skipped toward the shoreline—80 feet, 50, 30, 10, and then he hit the sand and leapt out.

Drake didn’t stop running until he was 50 feet up the first sand dune. He spun back.

The sea was calm. Except for the whitecaps, there was no monstrous lump or wedge-shaped head rearing up. But he knew what he saw. He grimaced as the tingling rushed over him again — and then the sunlight blinked off then seconds later, back on.

Drake looked up at the sky. And what the hell is with that? he demanded of the big yellow orb.

“You tryin’ to commit suicide, son?”

“Huh?” Drake spun.

There was an old guy standing up on one of the dunes, holding his sandals with a pair of binoculars around his neck.

Drake pointed. “Did you see that?” His voice was higher than he wanted.

The old guy’s face twisted in disdain. “Course I saw it.” He stepped aside and thumbed over his shoulder to a sign jammed in on the dune.

Drake’s mouth fell open in disbelief as he read the huge yellow sign’s black lettering.

Kronosaur season — no swimming, no boating, and no fishing until further notice.

There was a stenciled image of the sea reptile he just saw.

“What?” Drake felt his eyes actually bulge. “Is this a joke?”

“Idiot.” The old guy began to turn away. “There’s a reason we stay out of the water this time of year. It’s mating season for the big kronos. They make a kill, and they’ll hang around all year.”

“This is madness.” Drake ran up the dune to grab the guy’s arm. “When did this happen?”

The old guy suddenly looked a little worried by Drake then, who was still tough and brawny-looking even though he was now in his 50s.

“When?” The old guy shook his head, looking confused. “It’s always been like this. Every season on the warm current they migrate up the coast.” He backed up. “Just… just stay out until about October, orright?”

“Yeah.” Drake nodded slowly. “Yeah sure.”

The guy turned and vanished up and over the dunes. Drake looked back out over the water. It now looked ominous, threatening, and mysterious. He then stared down along the waterline where his boat was beached. He really wanted to believe it was some sort of prank on him. But he knew what he saw, and knew something bad had just happened that defied belief.

He felt the tingle in his belly again, and he knew whatever was happening was still happening. His phone rang and he pulled it out, looking at the caller id — it was Helen.

CHAPTER 10

Ben Cartwright put the phone down slowly and turned to Emma.

“That was Drake. He and Helen are coming over; I mean, they’re on their way right now. They want to discuss something important with us.” His eyes were on hers. “He sounded a little agitated.”

“They’re back together?” Emma’s brows went up. And then: “Did they say about what?”

“No.” Ben slid his hands in his pockets and ambled toward her. “But I can kinda guess, can’t you?”

“You think it’s happening to them too?” Emma turned to stare at the empty fireplace for a few moments. “But why us? I mean, why is it just us seeing the weird things going on, but everyone else is acting like all the weird is normal?”

“The weird is normal.” He paused, staring down at her. “The new normal.”

She looked up quickly. “Do you think it’s because we went, um, back?”

Ben shrugged. “I don’t know. How? Maybe there are others, but then, why doesn’t Zach see how strange it all is? To him and everyone else, it seems to them that it’s always been like this, and we’re the ones out of sync.”

“Only we see the change,” Emma said softly.

Ben walked to the window. “And it all worries the hell out of me.” He spoke over his shoulder. “When will it stop? I mean, what comes next?”

The doorbell rang, and he and Emma got to their feet. “Time for some answers,” Ben said.

Emma pulled the door inward as Ben stood at her shoulder. When Drake entered, she hugged him, and then allowed him to pass by her so he could shake Ben’s hand. She went to also hug Helen and chat softly to her.

It’d been a while since they last saw each other or even spoke, and to Ben, they looked the same except their hair contained a few streaks of silver, and the sun had pressed a few more fine lines onto their brows and at the corners of their mouths. However, he bet that the haunted look around their eyes was something new.

“Come through, come through.”

Ben led them into the living room where there was a coffee pot on the table, plus freshly sliced orange cake that Emma had baked that morning. Behind them, the fire popped, and the place looked and smelled inviting, hopefully a sanctuary from all the confusion.

“Where’s boy wonder?” Drake asked.

Ben chuckled and thumbed toward the steps. “I’m betting either slaying dragons or chopping up zombies online.”

“If only he knew what his father had done — slain some real ones; dragons, I mean.” Drake sat down on the couch and looked at its clean surface. “Hey, no dog blanket covered in hair for a change.”

“Yeah, about that.” Ben looked grim and clasped his fingers together. “What’s a dog?”

“Huh?” Drake frowned and held a slice of cake suspended from his mouth. “What does that mean?”

Helen also sat down and Emma spoke as she poured her a coffee. “You see, there’s no such thing… anymore.”

Drake and Helen sat and stared as Ben continued. “We had a dog, we know we did. But he’s gone.” He frowned. “No, he’s not just gone; he never even existed. In fact, no dogs exist anymore.” He looked at each of his friend’s faces. “Except in our minds.”

Emma’s mouth was a flat line. “Something has changed. Somehow, our world has changed.”

Drake lowered his hand holding the cake. “I knew it.” He turned to Helen. “See?”

Ben sat on the edge of his chair, big hands grasping his knees in front of him. “I’ve seen things, weird things, that I don’t understand. I think you have too, right?”

Helen nodded. “Yes, yes. Plants, carnivorous, that attacked my students. They never existed in our time before. I would know if they did.” She shook her head. “And my students acted like I was the crazy one for not recognizing them.”

Drake nodded. “Yeah, that was the kicker for me; everyone else acting like I was the odd one out. I was out boating and got chased by something the size of a freaking whale. But it wasn’t. Looked like a giant lizard that swam under the water… ” He turned to Helen. “What did you say it could have been…?”

“Kronosaurus, Tylosaurus… maybe one of those, but both long extinct,” she said softly.

“That was it — a Kronosaurus—yeah, a freaking monster. Just made it back to shore with my skin.” He sat back and scoffed. “But what was even weirder was on the beach an old-timer chewed my ass off because I shouldn’t have been out on the water.” He scoffed. “You know why? Because it was goddamn sea reptile season—Krono season!” His eyebrows were up. “What the hell? When did that happen? I mean, there were even signs stuck on the beach as warnings. They weren’t there before, I know it.”

Ben nodded. “The world is changing. We now live in a world where dogs don’t exist, and sea monsters do.”

“That’s a shitty tradeoff,” Drake said.

Helen’s vision seemed to have turned inward. “Dogs never evolved. And other species never went extinct. Evolution is on a whole new pathway.” She looked up. “Something happened to change everything… in the past.”

“And is still happening,” Emma said. “Hey, has anyone felt strange lately? Like, um, a tingle running through them?”

“Yeah, yeah, like a mild electrical current that runs from your head to your toes, and ends up in your belly,” Drake said. “And the light flicks on and off — the sunlight.”

“Yeah, me too,” Ben agreed. “I felt it just before I saw the tree species change down in Utah. The weird feeling rushes through you as the lights black out, and then there’s a change.”

“And they’re getting bigger,” Helen said. “We did it, we changed something in the past, we broke the rules.” She looked at each of them. “And now we’re going to pay for it.”

CHAPTER 11

Chess Monroe briefly glanced over his shoulder at Mohammed Ibn Aziz as he came down the main street flanked by three enormous men in dark suits that barely contained their hulking muscles. One walked in front, and the other two just behind each of his shoulders.

Aziz used to be the chief accountant for the Maghadam crime family, and since he had been picked up by the CSIS — the Canadian Security Intelligence Service — and threatened with life in prison, he was rumored to have flipped. Word was that he agreed to give evidence against the family for a new name, new home, and complete amnesty on all charges. He’d agreed, and all he had to do was survive until his single court appearance in a week’s time.

No one was even supposed to know he had been picked up, and this one last venture outside was to his strong box at the bank to retrieve some documents he’d need to put the Maghadam elder’s heads on the block. The State Prosecutor’s Office would then do the rest.

The thing about organized crime, and the families who ran it, was they had enormous resources at their disposal — money, property, businesses, and contacts in everything from the highest office of politics all the way down to the most cunning street urchin. Therefore, for every snitch like Aziz, there was a counter-snitch prepared to give up their mother for a golden goose egg.

The Maghadams already knew about Aziz being picked up, they knew about him getting ready to testify, and they even knew about the visit to the bank, probably minutes after it was floated in at the CSIS.

Toronto’s Bay Street was fairly busy at 2pm in the afternoon, and even though it was downtown in the financial district, its coffee shops were overflowing with outdoor business meetings, groups taking the opportunity to take a break and talk a little office treason, and also several weary shoppers walking from one set of retail hubs to the next.

The two men and a single blonde woman at one of the tables laughed and sipped coffee, and the woman leaned forward to cut some cake with a fork. If a trained operative were looking for potential risks, or something that stood out as incongruous, they would have seen that even though she wore expensive clothing, she held the fork roughly in her hand and her fist had knuckles that were raised and calloused.

Chess was one of the two men at the table with her. Both of them were also dressed well, in linen sports jackets, one blue, one brown, and pressed shirts, but they too had the facial features of men used to brutality rather than corporate finance.

Two blocks further down Bay Street, a van moved slowly and then double-parked. The single driver, a dark-haired, dark-eyed woman, had a small communication pill in her ear, and waited. In the back of the van, another man also waited by the sliding door.

As the Aziz party approached, from the café table one of the men facing the group counted the steps of the coming men and lowered the cup a fraction from his lips.

“Now.”

The man in the blue linen sports jacket left the table to wander down the street in front of the approaching Aziz group. The two remaining coffee drinkers continued to sip their coffee, laughed, relaxed, and made small talk as they faced each other. However, behind their dark sunglasses, their eyes were fixed on the party of four now coming abreast of them.

Just down the street, the man in the blue linen jacket slowed so he was only a half dozen paces in front of the lead bodyguard. He spoke softly.

“Show time.”

From his sleeve slid an 8-inch steel spike and he stopped, spun, and then lunged. Before the lead bodyguard could react, he had jammed the spike into the side of his neck.

Aziz’s mouth dropped open and he held his hands up in front of himself like a small animal holding up its paws.

The two guards behind him went for the guns at their belts, but from behind, the man and woman who had been seated were already on their feet and up close. They shot them point blank in the back of the skull with silenced shots so soft it sounded more like a small child coughing.

The three guards were carefully laid against the brick wall, and as the van roared to a stop beside them, its door slid back. Aziz was grabbed under one arm and lifted toward the open door like he was a child.

“You got a date,” Chess said.

The small accountant was pushed inside and the trio followed. On the street, few people were even aware something had happened.

In the back of the van, Aziz’s eyes began to water. “Are you going to kill me?”

Chess shook his head. “Nah, we’re just going to deliver you to the Maghadams. They’ll kill you… eventually.”

CHAPTER 12

Emma leaned forward. “Helen, you said that something was changed in the past, we broke the rules, what does that mean?”

“The butterfly effect is one name for it,” Helen said.

“You mean the theory that if a butterfly flaps its wings in one place, it can affect another, like cause a hurricane?” Emma asked. “That bizarre theory?”

“Something like that, but it’s an actual mathematical design theorem,” Helen said. “Grew out of chaos theory and was put forward by theorists in relation to weather modeling and the path tornadoes took. It can also be adapted to anything that can be affected by minute changes. And time is certainly one of them.”

Helen reached forward and grabbed her coffee cup, sipped, replaced it, but continued to stare into its dark depths. “I did some research when I first thought that something had been changed that might affect us.” She put her cup down but held onto it.

“There are so many theories, such as the grandfather effect, predestination, looping, and something called the Fermi effect. Basically, some of them contradict each other, and some state that no matter what someone did in the past, it was meant to happen anyway and therefore of no consequence to the future. Others say it is impossible to make changes, such as that proposed by the grandfather effect theory.”

“Going back in time to kill your grandfather,” Drake said. “Like, how you can’t really kill your grandfather, because then you would never have existed to have been able to kill him in the first place, right?”

“Exactly. Another theory that exposes the absurd complexity of it all is the impossibility loop.” She laid a hand on Drake’s forearm. “Say, an old lady gives a young man a watch. He then travels back in time and gives the watch to the old woman who is now a young girl. The young girl grows old and then gives it to the man. So, where did the watch originally come from?”

“Makes my damn head hurt,” Drake said.

“That’s why they call it a time paradox.” Helen smiled. “But one thing’s for sure, is that something we did, or maybe Andy did, has altered our version of time. And now it’s catching up to us.”

“Like toppling dominoes,” Emma said.

“Yes. And the further you go back in time, that first tiny domino to get a push, can topple a slightly bigger domino. And then that one can topple an even bigger domino, and the bigger the dominoes that can fall, and the more time they have, the bigger changes that can occur.”

Drake’s brow was furrowed deeply. “But so what if you take out a few animals to eat a hundred million years ago? Or chop down some trees, or eat some berries and nuts? It’s not like they’re the last ones.”

“But don’t you see?” Ben sighed. “They might just be the ones that made all the difference.”

Helen clasped her hands together. “That’s how the domino effect works. Just imagine you went back in time 100,000 years. You find a berry and eat it. But that berry was going to feed a bug. That was going to feed, say, a bird that was going to feed an eagle that now doesn’t lay eggs that season. And those eggs were going to feed a hunter-gatherer family.”

Helen rubbed her temples and went on. “The family goes hungry, and now don’t have children that year. One of those children was going to be a great leader and found a great nation that will now never exist. The human world will be changed forever.”

Ben ran a hand up through his hair. “And now multiply that by a thousand times, by going back 100 million years.”

“Yes, yes,” Helen said softly. “Through one tiny change, one species may die out, and instead another may take its place. An alternate future is created.”

“Jesus Christ,” Drake whispered and stood up. He paused. “But… why is it happening now? None of this occurred when Ben was stuck there.”

They sat in silence for a moment, all lost in their own thoughts.

“Maybe, uh… ” Ben hiked his shoulders. “Maybe it was like keystones. Everything I interacted with wasn’t important… wasn’t key to our timeline.”

“That’s all I can think of,” Helen agreed. “Some species, or even some particular animals, are pivotal to our timeline. You might be lucky a thousand, thousand times, and then the one berry you eat, or bird you kill, or fish you net, turns out to be the one that was important.” She looked up at Ben. “That turns out to be the keystone to change.”

“Lucky us.” Drake exhaled through pressed lips. “Okay, I got another question. Why is it affecting us, here, when we were down in South America?”

“It’ll be a global effect,” Helen said. “As well as continental drift, the sea level was much lower many times over the past 100 million years. There were land bridges between Africa, Asian, European continents, and us, right here. Things, creatures, plants, moved back and forth.”

“We just have to adapt,” Emma said. “Maybe things will change for the better. Maybe we humans will be less warlike, maybe there’ll be less disease, better food… we might have to just wait and see.”

Helen’s eyes were glassy. “Or maybe we won’t exist at all.” She gave Emma a watery smile. “Or a new disease might evolve, a new predatorial creature.” She chuckled. “Or we might have decided to never come down from the trees.”

“We could vanish altogether,” Drake said. “Our… human line, our thread, might begin to be unpicked right before our eyes. One person at a time.”

“And we might be the only people in the world to notice,” Ben said morosely.

Ben felt the tingle run through him again and he grimaced. He saw Drake and Helen look to each other, and Emma reached out to place a hand on his shoulder just before everything went black for a second.

“Oh God, another one.” Emma gripped Ben’s shoulder even harder.

“Yeah, I felt it too.” Drake straightened in his chair. “What else just happened this time? What else has turned up, or disappeared?”

Emma looked to Ben and he back at her — the same question hung between them. She jumped to her feet and ran to the steps.

“Zach?” She sprinted halfway up the stairs. “Zach?”

Ben rose, staring toward their staircase and feeling sick in his gut. He said a silent prayer.

“What?” It was the muffled sound of Zach’s voice.

Ben exhaled, only then realizing he had been holding his breath. He slowly sat back down and sighed heavily.

“The human race is a frog in a pot with the water beginning to boil,” Helen said softly. “And just like the frog, it doesn’t even notice the changes.”

“So what’s worse?” Drake asked. “Not noticing and carrying on as the world gets more dangerous or people just start winking out? Or being like us, somehow immune to this collective obliviousness and actually witnessing the changes?”

“Worse for us,” Helen said. “Because we won’t know what to look out for. Remember your kronosaur?”

Drake nodded. “Oh yeah. And I didn’t even get to tell you about the bird-eating jellyfish.”

Emma came back down the steps, and her expression was relieved but strained. She came and sat up close to Ben and grabbed his hand in both of hers.

“What do we do?”

“Nothing we can do,” Ben said.

“Isn’t there?’ Drake asked. “Sure, we can’t do anything today, but it’s now been nine years and eight months since we were on that damn plateau.”

“So,” Ben picked up. “In four months, Primordia returns. And with it, comes a doorway.”

“A doorway back to stop anything else happening.” Drake sat back.

“No,” Emma said. “No way. We only escaped with our lives by the skin of our teeth last time. No way we’re going back. Why the hell would we?”

“Andy,” said Helen. “Whatever he’s doing, we can’t let it continue.”

“No.” Emma was even more emphatic this time. “I’m not doing it.”

“I agree,” Ben said. “You stay.” He drew in a deep breath. “But the thought of not going, and leaving our son in a world that is hostile to him, scares the hell out of me. You need to look after him. But I need to make sure this ends. Whatever this is.” He smiled, but couldn’t make it extend to his eyes. “Besides, it’s basically a second home to me, right?”

Drake groaned. “It was my idea, so if you need a wingman… ” He screwed his eyes shut. Say no, say no, say no.

“Thanks, bro,” Ben said and leaned across to slap his shoulder.

Drake opened his eyes, held out a fist, and Ben bumped it with his own. “Done.”

Ben looked at Drake with a level gaze. “We make Andy come back with us. Or we stop him doing what he’s doing.”

“Hey.” Helen’s eyes flashed. “What does that mean? Stop him doing what he’s doing? How do you plan on doing that?”

Ben looked at Drake, and the two men knew exactly what that might mean. He cleared his throat. “We convince him to come back with us. Even if we have to tie him up and drag him home.”

“Really?” Helen’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t trust you.”

“Well, come with me, us, I mean.” Drake lifted his chin.

“Seriously?” Helen frowned. “You’re going to use this as a way to try and rekindle our relationship? Try and get me to come back to a prehistoric world where everything there is designed to tear you limb from limb? Oh, and you also insinuate you might harm my brother as well.”

Drake grinned. “So I’m a bit rusty, huh?”

Helen looked furious for a moment and then burst out laughing. Ben and Emma did the same.

“You asshole.” Helen wiped her eyes. “Okay. Because I know if he sees me, he’s more likely to come with us.”

“Okay?” Drake’s brows went up. “Seriously? I was only joking about you coming.”

Helen shrugged. “You’d be dead in a minute without me. And besides, I figure if we don’t do something, then this world, or rather this time, might end up just as deadly as the one of the Late Cretaceous.”

Emma sat back and folded her arms. She shook her head, and her eyes watered. “I’m sorry; I can’t.”

Ben reached across and put an arm around her shoulders. “I know, and you shouldn’t. Your priority is Zach. As is mine. You need to stay to look after him. I need to go to ensure he is safe in the future. That we all are.”

Emma nodded, but then paused. “Maybe he’ll come home by himself. When the portal opens, he might just decide to come home.”

“Maybe. And maybe the changes we’ve seen so far are all that is going to occur,” Drake said.

“No, he won’t come home,” Helen said. “But, I’m betting his scientific curiosity will draw him back to the plateau to observe the doorway opening again. He won’t be able to resist that.”

Ben nodded. “He’ll be there, and so will we. Snatch and grab, and then we bug out.”

“I’ll organize some hardware.” Drake grinned. “And I’ll make damn sure it’s appropriate this time.”

“Jesus, you guys.” Emma shook her head. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

They waited.

Emma scoffed. “Ben, you first went when we were 30. That was 20 years ago. Now you’re in your 50s. I know you guys have trained hard and maintained your fitness. But seriously, the one thing you both know is that surviving on that plateau is the most arduous thing anyone could do at any time anywhere.”

Ben sat back. “We don’t intend to be there long. We can’t afford to be.”

“So we’ll need help.” Drake rubbed his stubbled chin, making a rasping sound. He began to nod. “I know some people. They’ll bulk us up on muscle and firepower. But they’ll cost us.”

“It’s not right,” Helen said. “Remember last time? There’s no way you can make someone believe or be ready for what that place is really like.” She turned to Drake. “All those years ago when Emma first spoke to you about it, did you believe her?”

“Nope,” Drake said. “And even now, I still find it hard to believe it was even real. That was, until a few days ago.”

Ben used a thumb and forefinger to rub his eyes for a moment. “I don’t think we have any choice. The world is at stake, and it doesn’t even know it.” He opened his hands, palms up. “Sorry, Helen, but what we’re doing is bigger than just our little lives, or even anyone else’s lives who comes with us of their own free will.”

Ben then gave Emma a crooked smile. “I know you get it. Bottom line, even if we don’t go back, it seems the past is coming after us anyway. Maybe coming after Zach and all the other Zachs.”

Emma seemed to melt and grabbed his hand. “No, I’m sorry. Bring Andy back, save our world and its future.” She lifted her chin. “Just leave me a damn big gun.”

CHAPTER 13

“Hey… ” Jim Henson adjusted the lens on his massive telescope and amplified his view aperture. He leaned across to bring the computer online, and then jammed his eye back over the eyepiece.

“What have you got?” His colleague, Andy Gallagher, sounding vaguely interested, continued to type data into his own computer.

“Got some traffic,” Henson scoffed. “Little fella coming out of the void.” He quickly leaned an arm out to type furiously with one hand. He then looked across to check he had the details right and began to record the astral fragment.

“Asteroid?” Gallagher asked.

“Yeah, nice size, and going to come close enough for us to get a real good look.” Henson went from his eyepiece to the computer screen, satisfied that what he was seeing was now on the screen.

To the novice, the screen looked black on black with a smattering of pinpricks of light. But to a trained eye, it was an astral snapshot of a segment of space, well out into our solar system.

“Thought you were going to tell me that Primordia was on its way back.” Gallagher leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Our lucky number year again —‘8’—and our clockwork traveler, P/2018-YG874, is coming back for a visit.”

“Yeah, sure, but this is something else.” Henson froze, and slowly turned. “He-eeey, you don’t think…?”

Gallagher frowned. “Don’t think what?” His brows went up. “No way… collision?” He snorted. “Are you on drugs…? I mean, even more drugs?”

Henson guffawed. “Hey, what do I look like here?”

Gallagher grinned. “You look like Santa Claus, if he didn’t comb his hair or beard, and wore sweatpants.”

“You flatter me, sir.” Henson straightened in his chair. “And Santa Claus with an astrophysics degree from Caltech, remember?”

“Yeah, and mine’s from Princeton, honors, and we both know our orbital mechanics — space is basically empty, and the chance of two tiny astral bodies colliding is millions upon millions to one.”

“And yet it happens.” Henson folded his arms and watched the moving speck on the computer screen. “P/2018-YG874, Primordia, has been traveling perhaps for millions upon millions of years.” He turned. “Eventually everyone and everything’s luck runs out.”

“Impossible,” Gallagher said emphatically. And then, “But it’d be pretty cool if it did.” He looked up. “Hey, you spotted it, you name it.”

Henson stroked his beard for a moment. And then raised a finger. “I name thee… Lord Vader.”

Gallagher groaned as he grinned. “Lord Vader it is. And may the dark side be with you.” He turned back to his screen. “So let’s keep an eye on him, just in case.”

CHAPTER 14

The huge theropod eased forward and gently placed a foot the size of a small car down on the soft ground. It did the same for the next step, and then became motionless for several minutes. It finally angled its head slightly, a little like a monstrous dog, as it listened for a moment, before taking another careful step.

It inhaled deeply, drawing in all the odors and scents of the surrounding jungle. It was tracking something, something it couldn’t yet see, and for now could only smell. But its predator senses told it that the thing was close.

The alpha theropods were huge beasts and happy to feed on carrion, but also liked the thrill of the hunt and kill as well. Their eight-inch, tusk-like teeth were all backward curving, designed for gripping, tearing, and sawing through the flesh and bones of the massive animals of its time.

It remained frozen, and even with its towering size and bulk, it was near invisible in the dappled light of the jungle. Its mottled hide was a patchwork of brown and green with some banding on a thick tail held out stiffly behind it as a counterbalance for its huge head. At around 40 feet from nose to tail tip and weighing in at 15 tons, it was one of the largest carnivores in North America during the Cretaceous Period.

It turned its head again, slowly, scanning the jungle floor, but also searching for the scent trail. Minutes passed, and then it took another step, and then another, and paused to search again.

Whatever it was looking for was not being revealed. Whatever it was, it was better at concealment than the massive hunter was at hunting. Finally, it seemed to give up and it moved on, caring less about its noise and pushing aside trees as if they were long grass.

Andy stayed where he was, not moving a muscle. The mud he had coated himself with was layered on thick and was like axle grease; also, it was as uncomfortable as hell. But it kept the insects away and hid most of his weird and attractive mammal odors from the beasts. Most of them anyway.

He identified the creature as a member of the Carcharodontosaurus genus — probably a Siats meekerorum—that lived in this area just 100 million years before Andy’s home time. Though there were theropods that were larger and heavier, this monster was one of the most powerful, and certainly most ferocious.

Andy continued to watch the path it had taken, or rather just bulldozed through the jungle, while still not moving out of his concealment. He remembered being involved in debates about whether these massive carnivores were hunters or scavengers — but now he knew. He’d seen with his own eyes the massive thunder beasts running down huge prey, using their bulk to knock them off balance, and then their car-sized head craning forward and massive jaws gaping wide to rip out throats or crush neck vertebrae. They were hunters all right. And damned good at it.

Finally, a tiny speck in the gargantuan jungle moved — Andy — coming out from amongst a tangle of mangrove-like tree roots. He opened his pouch and looked in at the tiny bird-like reptile. For once, Gluck kept his beak tightly shut, perhaps catching the scent of the apex predator and knowing that discretion wasn’t just the better part of valor, but the only thing keeping them alive.

Andy took a few cautious steps, stopped, and just let his eyes move across his path. He was a speck in a land of giants, and he turned slowly, looking over his shoulder. He’d learned a lot in his years in this time period, and one of those things was that the massive many-ton predators had an ability to be wraiths when they were hunting. They could be as silent as ghosts; one minute you thought you were alone, and the next there was a 10-ton shadow only a few hundred feet behind you.

Andy couldn’t count the number of near misses he’d had. All my lives are used up, he thought and grinned, his teeth and eyes glowing white through the caked mud.

It took him another 20 minutes before he felt safe enough to resume his normal pace. He stopped to lift his head and sniff deeply. He still wasn’t close — there was no hint of salt in the air. And not the murky salts of mineral pools or sulfurous magma vents, but the clean smell of brine.

When he was growing up, the one eye-opening thing that grabbed his attention and thrust him on the path toward studying, and eventually becoming a paleontologist, was the fossil sites referred to as bone beds. These were places where the remains of many species of dinosaur were found, and in some cases all jumbled together.

The center of America had once been submerged when sea levels were hundreds of feet higher. In the hot and humid times of the Cretaceous, the ice caps melted and the ocean had intruded deep into the continent’s heart. It had split the mighty landmass down the middle, creating two.

Andy had arrived on the eastern landmass called Appalachia. And across a vast inland sea was the western landmass called Laramidia. As the millions of years passed, the sea level dropped, and eventually, the inland sea became a massive lake. It had landlocked thousands of species of prehistoric creatures — some sprat-sized, and some the biggest sea monsters of their time. They became monstrous goldfish in a sea-sized bowl.

Finally, when the inland sea dried completely, the stranded animals became piles of corpses, and then fossilized. It became a kill box for the creatures, but a bonanza for future fossil hunters.

Since arriving in this time, it had always been one of his goals to see arguably the most famous of all the bone beds. But of course, today, in this time period, it wasn’t a bone bed at all.

Andy sniffed again. Damnit, I still have far to go, and it has already taken me… He paused, having a thought, and reached into his bag, eliciting a gluck of annoyance from his little friend.

“Move aside, buddy.” He pulled out a length of slate, roughly 12 inches long by 3 wide and 2 deep. On it was hundreds upon hundreds of scratch marks — his calendar stone. And at the top, his name in all capitals: “Andy.” He’d carved it when he still had a knife, now long rusted away.

“Wow, guess who’s coming back soon?” He looked up, but had no chance of seeing the sky through the thick tree canopy. Perhaps up there in the sky was the familiar eyebrow streak of the comet and its tail as it began its approach to our world.

“So what.” He replaced the calendar stone. But then looked up again. Imagine what the plateau looks like when the displacement actually starts to occur? he wondered, and then cursed. Damn my curiosity, he thought.

Gotta see my interior seaway first, he whispered. There was one problem — what would be the United States in 100 million years’ time was currently two massive continents. The western one, Laramidia, was a land of low plains. But unfortunately, he had arrived on Appalachia, and the mighty backbone of the Appalachian Mountains was already a line of towering peaks.

They were first formed around 480 million years ago during the Ordovician Period, where the mighty fold in the Earth’s surface thrust up to be of equal height to the Alps. Since then, natural erosion had worn them down a little, but during the Cretaceous — now — they’d still be a formidable climb. All he needed to do was cross them.

Andy sucked in a deep breath and then exhaled long and slow, feeling the fatigue and years drag on his skinny frame. He peeked into his bag, and the small pterosaur lifted its head.

“We can do it, Andy. And we still got time,” it said.

He grinned and nodded. “Damn right we do.”

CHAPTER 15

Drake pulled up out in front of the small, flat building that was like an island in the middle of a large concrete sea of a carpark. Hanging on the facade was a huge oval pink sign with swirling calligraphy announcing the place as Mama’s Daughter’s Diner.

He switched off the engine, held onto the steering wheel, and craned forward, looking out through the windscreen at the small building.

Ben scoffed. “In here?”

“Oh yeah. Best comfort food in Texas,” Drake said without turning. “They’ll be waiting.”

“And these guys are available for hire, huh?” Ben didn’t look that optimistic anymore.

Drake grinned. “Sure; a few days in and out, plus throw in an extra two weeks for training and acclimatization, and all up I guess we only need to buy these guys for a month, maybe an extra week here and there.”

“What should I pay?” Ben asked. “You know them.”

“Too little, and they’ll tell you to hit the highway. Too much, and they’ll smell a rat.” He bobbed his head. “Nah, there’s no such thing as too much for these guys.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t have a lot of time to hold too many rounds of interviews. I’d prefer to offer top of scale than to haggle over pennies. Besides, since I inherited the estate, I’ve got more money than I can spend.” Ben sat back.

“That’s why you’re my best friend.” Drake chuckled. “But you’re right; they’re greedy, so a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow will get their attention.”

Drake rested his forearms on the wheel. “I’ve worked with them, and then fired them because they were mavericks and risk takers. Don’t want that in a legitimate security business.” He turned and grinned. “But in a suicidal mission back to the dawn of time, well, they’d be perfect… and expendable.”

Ben chuckled. “And so?”

“And so, a million bucks apiece. 10 % on lift-off, the rest when we get home.” Drake’s face became serious when Ben’s eyebrows went up. “You want them to say yes without even stopping and thinking about it, right?”

“Shit. Big payday.” Ben blew air through his lips. “But at least I like the way you back-loaded the deal. After all, how many will actually be alive to collect?”

“All of them if everything goes to plan.” Drake briefly looked around the near vacant carpark.

“What have they been doing since they left your fruitful employ?” Ben asked.

“Knowing them, bad shit. They’re no angels.” Drake elbowed his door open. “Let’s go and meet them.” He paused and then leaned back into the car. “Oh yeah, one more thing.” He grinned. “Don’t expect any of them to be shrinking violets.”

“You don’t say.” Ben chuckled and stepped out himself.

Ben and Drake crossed the carpark and pushed in through one of the double doors, making a small bell tingle overhead. Both men stood just inside, surveying the interior; there were a few people scattered about, and on one wall was a sign that read: No dessert till you eat everything on your plate.

Ben smiled. “Mama sure sounds like one tough old bird.”

Drake nudged him and nodded toward two huge guys at a booth. Only one was watching him, the other picked at a plate of food.

“Two there, two more at the counter, and one at the far booth.”

Ben looked from person to person — two solid dudes at the booth, two women that looked like they chewed barbed wire for breakfast at the counter, and another guy the size of a small mountain in the far booth. They had spread themselves out to look random, but to the trained eye, it was more like they were expecting an ambush.

All except one seemed interested in the pair of new arrivals. But Ben bet his bottom dollar that when he and Drake had crossed the carpark they had all watched like hawks.

“And these guys are your buddies, right?” Ben asked.

“Sort of.” Drake bobbed his head. “Like I said, they used to work for me… and I fired every one of them.”

“Well then, this should go smoothly.” Ben and Drake took a booth and the waitress came with a notepad.

“Coffee and a chicken club,” Ben said. “Bacon extra crispy.”

“Make it two,” Drake added.

The waitress nodded and left and then Drake eased back against the vinyl and threw an arm out along the top of the booth seat. “Now we wait.”

And they didn’t have to wait long. One of the guys from the booth who had been watching them lifted his coffee cup and sidled over, sliding in next to Ben and bumping him along. Ben was a big guy, but this guy had to be 6”2’, and had 20 pounds on him. Plus about a dozen years.

“Drake.” The guy nodded.

“Chess.” Drake smiled and continued to lounge back. He nodded toward Ben. “My buddy, Ben Cartwright. The guy I told you about.”

Ben nodded, and Chess turned an eye on him to give him the once over and then looked back to Drake.

“You said you wanted to see us about a job?” His mouth turned down momentarily. “Pretty busy right now.”

“Sure you are.” Drake waited as the waitress slid their coffees in front of them and left. Drake lifted it and inhaled the aroma. “Playing pool, being hungover, and a bit of petty crime is a full-time job.”

“Smartass,” Chess snarled. “Is there a job or not?”

“Yep, and one that might be your last.” Drake stared back with an unwavering gaze.

Chess frowned. “What’s that mean?”

Drake chuckled, and Ben shook his head. “I mean, the payday is so good, you may never have to work again.”

Chess waved it away. “Getting too old to be an outlaw, brother.”

“Nothing illegal, as if that ever bothered you. But it is… unusual.” Drake waited with a half-smile still on his lips.

“But I’m betting dangerous as all fuck,” Chess shot back. “Right?”

“You bet.” Drake laughed.

Chess stared for several seconds until the waitress appeared again. “Anything else for you boys?”

“Yeah.” Chess looked up. “Five servings of pie for my posse, and put it on this guy here’s tab. Wait, put all our bills on his tab.” He grinned.

The waitress’ eyes slid to Drake who nodded once.

“Okay.” She hustled away.

Chess folded tattooed arms. “That just bought you both some listening time. Go on.”

Drake looked to Ben who gave him the go ahead. He leaned forward. “A quick snatch… a rescue. A month’s work between here and down in the Amazon. And when we’re ready, in and out in two days. If everything goes to plan,” Drake said.

“We’ve done snatches before, but the Amazon, man. Bad news.” Chess whistled. “Have to think about it.”

“A million bucks. Each,” Ben said, evenly. “So think quick.”

Chess didn’t flinch, but the corners of his mouth twitched. He turned and waved for the other four members of his team to come and crowd into the next booths to listen.

Chess looked at each of them. “Guy here says the job pays a million bucks, each, for a simple snatch, ah, rescue.” He turned back. “For that sort of cabbage, who is it, some drug lord, the president? Who?”

Drake shook his head. “Nobody you know, and nobody important. Who it is doesn’t matter. But we need to bring them home from the Amazon, fast.” Drake’s eyes were level. “And yeah, you heard right, a million bucks each. $100,000 when you get on the plane, and then $900,000 more when you get off back home, with our guy.” He lifted his chin. “And I never said the job was simple.”

One of the women leaned toward their booth, and then right into Ben’s ear. “Sounds like bullshit, man; what’s the catch?”

Ben leaned away from her mouth. “Possibly, probably, going to be a suicide mission.”

“Ooh.” She scoffed, turned to Drake, and thumbed toward Ben. “You gonna tell us who this guy is?”

“He’s a buddy of mine; we used to work together. This here is Captain Benjamin Cartwright, formerly Special Forces. And he’s also been where we’re going. So if you sign up, you listen up when he speaks, because he’s the boss.” Drake grinned with zero humor. “And one more thing: he’s also the guy that pays the bills.”

“Used to be Spec Forces,” the woman said. “And I’ve been to the Amazon more’n a dozen times. It’s just another freaking jungle full of wet heat, bugs, and snakes. But for a million bucks, Mr. Fuckstick, I’d go to the moon.”

Chess turned. “That’s enough, Shawna.” He thumbed to the four people in the booths surrounding them, starting with the two big men. “Buster and Francis. The mouth here is Shawna, and the nice one is Balls.”

Ben tried not to laugh as he turned and nodded to each, finishing on Balls. She was a 30-something Latin American-looking woman with a slight dent in her lips, indicating an old split lip that hadn’t knitted right. Her face was pleasant enough, but her eyes were dead. Ben had seen that look before, usually in Vets that had seen it all. He didn’t think for a second she wasn’t as tough as they come. Ben looked again at each of Chess’ crew. In fact, they all looked fearless and formidable. Good, he thought.

“Got another name?” he asked Balls.

She smirked. “Bianca Alejandra Leticia Sofia.”

“I see; Balls.” Ben grinned. “I’m gonna go with Bianca; how’s that?”

She shrugged. “For the money you’re paying, you can call me what you like.”

“Yeah, for a million bucks, we’re all in,” Chess said and looked over his shoulder at his pals. “Right?”

They all agreed. “Money for old rope.” Shawna winked. “And we get 100Gs, just for saying yes?”

“No, you get 100Gs for getting on the plane, and after it takes off. And after your training. And when I’m happy that you’re ready,” Ben replied.

“Too many rules.” Chess looked at Ben with disdain. “If you don’t mind, we’ll speak to Drake. We don’t really know you.”

“Too late; you said you were in, so basically you’re on my payroll and work for me. Don’t like it, the door’s that way.” Ben nosed toward the door and then shrugged. “We got plenty more down and out Mercs to interview, and the day is still young.”

Chess’ eye narrowed. “That right?”

“Now you’re getting it.” Ben just smiled.

Chess’ jaw jutted. “Hey, Drake, I don’t think I like your buddy.” He lunged forward, grabbing for Ben’s collar.

In the blink of an eye, Ben gripped his wrist, half turned it, and used his other hand to take the big man’s hand and give it another twist, turning it upside down, and wrenching it all the way up to the man’s shoulder. He then held it with ease, his eyes half-lidded with boredom.

Chess grimaced, his entire body leaning out, while Ben held him in check with just one hand. He looked like he was struggling hard not to show pain.

“You don’t like me, but you’ll take my money,” Ben said. “That is, if you live to get it.” He sat forward, still hanging on as Chess gritted his teeth. “And you know what? I don’t want you to like me, because I don’t want to like you. If you come on this mission, you may die. Maybe all of you will die, so I don’t want to be your friend, or have to care about you. Got it?”

Chess’ teeth were clamped.

“Got it?” Ben repeated, applying a little more pressure.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Chess seethed.

Ben let him go.

Chess sat back rubbing his shoulder and just glared. His friends looked like they didn’t know whether to pile in on Ben or laugh out loud.

“Told you not to mess with him.” Drake grinned as the five Mercs stared, but seemed more surprised than anything else. Drake raised his eyebrows. “What? You thought he was going to pay you a million bucks to have a holiday? We meant it when we said this mission is bordering on suicidal, and you’ve all said yes without even hearing the details.”

“We’ve been to tougher places than the Amazon.” Bianca lifted her chin. “And we’re all listening now Mr. Special Forces… Mr. Ex Special Forces.”

Ben turned to her. “Self-preservation finally winning over greed, huh? It’s good to worry about your own skin.”

She nodded. “Nothing I’m scared of. Not in this world.”

“Nothing in this world.” Drake chuckled. “In this world, at this time. And I used to be the same.”

They paused as two massive chicken club sandwiches, overflowing with tomato, chicken breast, lettuce, tomato, peppers, and crispy bacon arrived at the table. Potato chips surrounded the plate.

Ben and Drake nodded their thanks to the waitress, and the aroma of bacon wafted over everyone.

Drake lifted his napkin. “Now, Captain Cartwright here is going to give you a brief overview, and I want you to listen closely. Then all of you take a few minutes to think about it and ask questions while we eat our lunch.” He looked hard at each of them until they nodded.

Ben took a sip of his coffee. “Before I start, know that there is no dishonor in saying ‘no’ to us. And indeed, it might be the smartest thing to do. This job will be for insane people only. Drake and I will be leading a small team in. I hope we’ll be leading that same team, plus one, out. If we make it, you’ll all be rich. And if we don’t, you won’t need the money anyway.”

Shawna sneered. “Is this where you tell us that what you’re about to say is confidential?”

Ben shook his head. “I don’t give a shit who you tell. No one will believe you anyway.”

Chess rolled his shoulder and looked like he was about to take one of Ben’s chips, but changed his mind. “Okay, Captain Cartwright, we’re all ears.”

Ben began.

CHAPTER 16

“At last.” Nicolás leapt up to pull the battered notebook from the shelf.

Mateo leaned back in his chair. “At last, what?”

Nicolás held up the book. “The big wet, the monsoon of madness, the wettest season, it’s all due to return in just two months.”

Mateo ran a hand through silver hair and sighed. “Oh, yes; your first love.”

Nicolás flipped pages to his last entry, entered nine years and 10 months ago when he had only just joined the Meteorological Services. He left the book open and rested on his elbows, staring down and reading the notes again as he’d done too many times now to count.

The wettest season came every 10 years, almost to the day, and always over just one part of the Amazon. Down in the darkest center of the still mainly unexplored jungle, a localized hurricane developed, but coming out of nowhere and always centralized. Strangely, it stayed centralized and just over one of the towering tepuis or flat-topped mountains.

Then, in just 24 hours, it dissipated and vanished, as quickly as if a switch had been thrown and so completely it was like it was never there. The anomaly had intrigued him for 10 years since he had seen it right here with his own eyes.

Well, he thought, as much as one could see. Nothing could pierce its cloud cover — radar, satellite images, even X-rays were all deflected. But he had seen something in there.

Nicolás rolled his chair along to his computer and quickly searched his files. He found what he was looking for and pulled up the satellite video he had recorded from high above the plateau from all that time ago.

He had spent months cleaning it up and now he played it again, for probably the hundredth time. The silent film showed a balloon with people in it entering the cloudbank, and then what looked like it being attacked by something that came out of the cloud, something big. Using the passenger balloon for scale, the bat-like creature had to have been about 30 feet across.

Nicolás knew that the Amazon had her secrets, but none he thought as compelling and mysterious as this one. He looked over his shoulder at the sound of the senior meteorologist’s voice.

“Hey, this year, we have all the new meteorological equipment you can use to measure the storm’s intensity. Also, if you’re really lucky, you may get permission to fly one of the drones in for a closer look.”

Nicolás nodded with little enthusiasm and played the video again. “A closer look.” He breathed slowly, watching the strange events, still trying to understand what he was seeing. He knew that the drones couldn’t get too close or they’d lose power and fall to the jungle floor, as dead as a dodo.

He had researched the phenomena extensively, finding many references stretching back hundreds of years. With the Internet as his research base, he crosschecked other phenomena that occurred around this time and found a single peculiarity — a comet, called Primordia — that came close to the Earth once every 10 years, and always in years that ended in 8… just like the year when he had witnessed the balloon. And now, just like this one. A theory had formed that begged to be proven.

Nicolás drummed his fingers on his desktop. He’d waited 10 years for this event, and in a few months, it’d pass by for yet another 10. He sat for a few more moments and then leapt up, pulling the office stationary from a tray and scribbling furiously on one of the pages. He then handed it to Mateo.

The older man looked at it for a moment and his eyebrows rose. “You’re taking leave?” He slowly turned in his seat, his mouth hiked in one corner. “And surprise, surprise, right when the wettest season is going to be occurring in the Amazon.”

Nicolás nodded.

“You aren’t planning on doing anything stupid, are you?” Mateo lowered the form. “Curiosity killed the cat, my young friend. And down in the Amazon, curiosity killed and ate the cat.”

“I just want a closer look.” Nicolás grinned and shrugged. “And after all, everyone knows that cats have nine lives.”

CHAPTER 17

Andy paused to wipe his brow. He’d been climbing for many days and had many more to go.

Back in his own time, he’d been climbing in the Appalachian Mountains before when he was searching for fossil sites. Most paleontologists were curious about the ancient lifeforms up here, as there were large gaps in the primordial record due to the fact that most of Appalachia’s fossil-bearing formations were destroyed by the Pleistocene Ice Age.

But back then, or forward then from now, though the mountains were large, they were nothing like the formidable peaks they were here and now. In the Cretaceous, the mountain range traveled all the way down through Alabama and into the northern edge of the ocean that was the submerged state of Florida.

Where he was right now, he estimated he was only at about 4,000 feet elevation. But further north, they would be three times that and impassable to someone like himself. Over the next 100 million years, they would be weathered down to leave their granite cores and their slopes mostly covered in a gentle forest.

Andy looked out toward the west where there was a world of green as far as the eye could see. There was a steamy mist hanging over the treetops, and it was unbroken, primitive, and teeming with life. It was a green world, all except for right at the very edge of the horizon where something glinted like polished silver.

He was past the worst of his climb now, and he expected it would get easier as he descended. The atmosphere was pleasant here, cooler, but still with humid breezes wafting up through the valley’s conifer forests and fern-filled meadows that interspaced the mountains. Where he was, the trees were sparser and generally growing in stands like tall conifer oases, with strappy-leafed plants at their base and more exposed rock.

So far, he had encountered a variety of smaller dinosaurs and several carnivorous theropod species, but they were small enough to not be a bother to him. Most he recognized, but some were unidentifiable, sporting strange beaks, horned or crested heads, and one that was even covered in what looked to be long rudimentary hair. These were the species that were probably unique to this area and were scrubbed from the fossil record by erosion.

However, he had several encounters with nodosaurs, the large, herbivorous, armored dinosaurs resembling tank-sized armadillos. Interestingly, it was one of the few dinosaurs that he felt he’d already seen from his own time. That was because in 2011, a specimen was found deep in a mine so well preserved that its head and front half of its body were still intact, and even more amazing, not compressed, but in a 3D form.

The nodosaur fossil was so amazingly preserved that it was still showing some coloration — spots and coffee-brown patches surrounding the huge osteoderms, the huge spikes and plates, and the smaller coin-sized scales in between.

Andy had approached one of the great beasts, thinking they might be like armored cows. But he ended up having to run for his life when he was charged. Even though the nodosaur was a plant-eater, it was 18 feet long and easily a 3,000-pound behemoth that had two 20-inch-long spikes jutting out of its shoulders. Instead of being like a cow, it’s more like a bad-tempered mutant rhinoceros, Andy thought as he had scrambled into a stand of trees.

Luckily for him, they shared another rhino-like trait in that they had terrible eyesight, so once Andy stopped moving and hid, he probably vanished to the brute. In addition, a tiny brain meant it lost interest quickly.

A big body, and sparse food, meant it was rightly being territorial, he surmised. From then on, he had learned to give them a wide berth whenever he encountered them.

In the mountains, the opening of the landscape presented him with another challenge. Andy was used to scurrying between tree trunks, under palm fronds, and slithering through bracken to get where he needed to go. But up here, he had to cross areas of open slopes.

He had been crossing a fern meadow on one such slope, thinking how quiet it was, wishing he had his sister here to enjoy it with. But that daydreaming meant he had let his guard down. He became inwardly focused and stopped using his spatial awareness, just for an instant or two, and then from overhead the sunshine had been blotted out for a moment.

Andy was immediately on guard, but still instinctively cringed down and froze, just for a second, as a breeze wafted down on his long hair.

Something heavy landed behind him, and he didn’t even bother to turn; he didn’t need to. He knew enough about this place to know that if something was creeping up on you, it wasn’t because it wanted to make friends.

He began to sprint for the next stand of conifer trees and the terrifying scream from over his shoulder came from an enormous throat that told him he only had a short head start.

Andy was only 50 feet from the trees when he chanced a glance over his shoulder — and it was as bad as he expected. The monstrous pterosaur was around 70 feet tall from nose to tail and had a wingspan of over 50 feet.

He immediately knew what it was and cursed himself for not expecting it: a Quetzalcoatlus. It was a pterosaur species known from the Late Cretaceous of North America and probably the largest flying animal to have ever existed on the planet.

The worst thing for Andy was they had good locomotion on the ground using their folded wings as front legs, and with their giraffe-like long neck, they could lunge forward to spear their prey in a serrated beak that was itself around eight feet in length.

Andy pumped his arms and legs, and upon reaching the stand of trees, dived and crawled in among bushes and tangled roots. He scared a small creature from its hiding place that squealed and made a break for it — the four-legged, barrel-bodied thing could not have known that Andy wasn’t the real threat, and its fast-moving shape distracted the monstrous flying reptile that caught the fleeing creature with ease.

“Sorry, pal,” he whispered.

Andy flopped back, breathing hard. He stayed down, hoping the massive flying reptile wasn’t smart enough to be able to tell the difference between a small four-legged dinosaur and a weird, hairy, two-legged human.

Andy sucked in air and watched as the Quetzalcoatl shook the creature in its beak to break its neck, and then lowered its giant frame to then spring upward, spreading bat-like wings larger than an airplane. It immediately caught a thermal on the slopes and rose higher into the pale blue sky.

He watched it with open mouth and marveled at its magnificence. He’d been here 10 years and every now and then he saw something that made him think it was all a dream. It vanished behind the peak, and he relaxed a little.

“You asshole, you should have known better,” he groaned to himself. I’m either getting old or dumb, he thought. He knew that giant pterosaurs lived in this time and in this area. And just like the condors of home that also had large wingspans and preferred high altitudes for their nesting so they captured the updrafts to make take-off easy, of course the Cretaceous giants of the air would be nesting in the mountains.

Dumb. And dumb gets you dead, he cursed.

“Gluck.”

Andy eased up to sitting and opened his bag, seeing the miniscule version of the thing that nearly ate both of them staring up at him.

“Nasty bird.” Gluck seemed to frown, but only for a moment. “Andy good?”

Andy sucked in one last big breath and nodded. “Yeah, Andy good. This time.” He looked around. “But Andy needs to pay attention or we both won’t be good.”

He looked out through the trees and into the distance. He could still make out the reflective glint on the horizon. He knew it had to be a large body of water.

“My sea,” he said and looked down into the bag. “But I think we’ll travel at night until we’re out of the mountains; otherwise, we’ll both end up as bird shit.”

“Gluck.”

“Yeah, I’m hungry too.” He closed the bag. “We’ll make camp soon and have dinner, I promise.”

CHAPTER 18

Lieutenant Redmond “Red” Gordon was jammed in tight. There were so many dials, tubes, buttons, switches, and electronics surrounding him that he could feel the electromagnetic waves all the way to his back teeth. Added to that, they made the heat in the compact space capsule nearly unbearable and the bulky flame-retardant suit he wore was like a layer of canvas pillows.

But he was thankful for the padding now, as the blast-off and acceleration had been like riding a 1,500-pound rodeo bull, and after several hours of being strapped in place, every single fiber of his body ached and screamed to be able to stand up and move around.

Gordon was an engineer and test pilot with the U.S. Air Force, and he had been selected to pilot the new ballistic rocket system that was to make him the first man to fully orbit Earth, beating Russia by just a few years.

In his ear was the constant professional command center babble of NASA, the newly formed space agency, and his constant companion, ground control leader Mitch Brammel. He looked up to the countdown clock and saw he had mere hours until he’d commence re-entry and be on his way to splashdown in the Florida Bay where he bet helicopters were already hovering.

The Archimedes was coming up over South America, still at a height of 87 nautical miles, as Gordon began the re-entry checklist with ground control; all was going to plan. Until everything went dark. So dark, he thought for a few seconds that he’d gone blind.

“Command center, come back.” Gordon licked suddenly dry lips. “Command center, come back. Ah, Mitch, are you there?”

There was nothing, no sound, not even any static. There was only his own rasping breath.

“Ames Command Center, this is Major Redmond Gordon requesting immediate response, come back.”

Nothing. He was in a void of nothingness where there was no sound, no light, and no constant hum of the electronics. And the craft even felt different now. There was no sensation of the sliding acceleration as he skimmed above the atmosphere in a space orbit heading toward re-entry.

“Damnit, Mitch, where are you?” Gordon cursed and brought a fist down on his thigh. His stomach began to flip and he knew why — gravity was kicking in and he knew he was in free fall.

“Ah shit.”

Gordon shook his head. “Come on, guys, don’t do this to me.” He tried the comms again, and again, and again, and by the fourth time, he knew he was alone.

The words: total system failure, screamed in his head.

“I’ve damn well trained for this,” he told himself to regain some calm over the waves of panic wanting to wash over him.

There were manual procedures, processes, and instruments for him to use, and he reached forward to a small compartment and grabbed a glow stick, broke it, and held it up. Manual clock face dials told him his speed, orientation, and altitude. Thankfully, he was well inside the atmosphere now but had reached a terminal velocity, and he had no idea over what.

Now, there would be no automatic ejection of his capsule from the booster, and no capsule ejection meant no deployment of the parachutes. He had zero idea where he was, but he’d have to deploy himself or he’d be a smudge on some road, swamp, mountainside, or beach somewhere.

Gordon sucked in a deep breath and shook his head to try and flick away streams of greasy perspiration that ran down his face.

The altitude dial spun fast, and he counted down the seconds. He grabbed the manual disengagement lever and prayed he wasn’t too high or too low — too high and the air was too thin for the chutes to grab and open. Too low and he’d never slow himself enough to walk away.

“Command center, I am manually disengaging and deploying. Mitch, I’m coming in hot.” He swallowed. “Hope you’re there when I arrive, buddy.”

All or nothing, he thought, and gripped the red lever. “5-4-3-2-1… disengage.”

There was a massive kick as small explosive charges blew the rocket’s nose cone, and his tiny claustrophobic home spun away from its ballistic missile thrusters. Gordon felt himself tumble once, and then the air brakes kicked in as the chutes now automatically unfolded — thankfully, they filled — and began to slow him down.

Gordon stared hard at the altimeter as the feet counted down. He had jammed the glow stick in beside it, and it was a tiny pool of yellow light beside the dial that was now his whole world. He felt like some sort of tiny insect that had crawled into the back of a giant’s crystal radio set as he watched and waited.

He blinked away more sweat; he had a ways to go, as he was still 2,000 feet up. But it would be eaten up fast. He gripped the armrests, preparing for whatever came next — he’d strike hard if he hit water or green. If it was rock, chutes or no chutes, he’d more than likely break apart.

In a few more seconds, he was at 1,500 feet, and then strangely he felt the first strike. He bounced, struck something else, and then felt the tin skin of the capsule being thrashed and pummeled as there came the sounds of branches snapping and leaves slapping at him.

In another few seconds, he landed softly and bounced — like in a hammock. He waited for a few seconds and then began to grin.

“Ho-le-y crap.” He started to chuckle. “Thank you, mother nature.”

He looked up at the instrument panels that were all still as dead as dodos. “You’re no help.”

He immediately began to unbuckle, unstrap, unhook, and unwind from the multitude of safety harnesses, monitors, and communication’s equipment, and then he shifted forward to grab handholds so he could lever himself up to the door.

Gordon had to use the spanner to literally unscrew the metal door, and after 20 minutes was able to shoulder the lid off where it fell to the ground. He looked out.

Green.

Everything was green.

He flipped his faceplate up and was hit by a wave of cloyingly sweet scents, wet heat, and a cacophony of jungle sounds.

He leaned out further and looked around — he saw he was hanging about six feet up from the ground in some sort of massive banyan tree that must have been 300 feet tall if it was an inch.

The foliage above was too thick for him to get his bearings, and he even had no idea which country he was in. He didn’t think he’d made it as far as the Florida Everglades, but who knew.

Gordon ducked back inside and pulled out the emergency bag tucked under the cockpit seat. It contained rations, water, and a couple of flares. He then twisted his helmet a half turn to remove it and let it drop down to the ground.

It bounced on a solid but plant-littered base, so he threw a leg over and jumped down.

Red Gordon stood with his hands on his hips for a moment, trying to decide if he should wait by the capsule or try and set off. Even if he was in the U.S., he could wander into a swamp and end up gator food. And if he were in the Amazon, well, then getting lost would mean he’d really be screwed.

He looked up again. The tree he had landed in was probably one of the tallest around… maybe he could climb up and see if he could get his bearings further up.

He tried to map a path to the upper branches. The limbs were huge lower down, and there were plenty of handholds — yeah, it was doable. He took a quick sip of water, left his bag with his helmet behind, and started up.

It was easy at first; the branches were broad, and now and then Gordon came across weird lizards that got up on their back legs and hissed at him.

He’d never been to the Amazon before and guessed he was just seeing their typical lifeforms. He’d make a mental note to ask the science geeks when he got back.

At about 120 feet up, he paused to listen as something large moved below him. He heard the sounds of trees being pushed aside and the snuffled grunts from a large throat and mouth. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of an enormous grey-banded back as it broke for a few seconds before it re-entered the dense growth again.

Did they have elephants here? he wondered. While he continued to stare down, there was a thump of something landing behind him, and turning, he saw another goddamn reptile standing upright, this one about three feet tall. It was a mottled green and had a long, pointed face, like a beak.

“Shoo,” he said as it fixed him with one ruby-red eye. Gordon had the weird feeling it was looking him up and down as though sizing him up… for dinner.

“Go on, get lost.” He waved a hand at it, and the thing screeched and unfolded bat-like wings… goddamn wings!

“Piss off!” he yelled and it flapped away like a wet sheet. Gordon shook his head. “Goddamn weird place.”

He started up again, now getting to about 200 feet up. He didn’t suffer from vertigo and he was extremely fit, so even though the going was tough, he was managing just fine.

He was still within the canopy so as yet he couldn’t see out, but he could just make out that where he was now put him at the forest ceiling, so when he got a little higher, he’d be above it.

In another 10 minutes, Gordon edged out on the thinnest branch he could, holding the one above it for balance. He got as far to its edge as he could manage before it started to bend precariously under his weight.

The test pilot then leaned forward to bend the branch down, opening a hole in the banyan’s foliage.

Red Gordon looked out, and his mouth fell open.

Miles and miles of green.

He was higher than the far jungle, much higher, leading him to believe he was on some sort of flat-topped mountain, and that accounted for his crash landing before he actually made true landfall.

There were no roads, no settlements, and nothing resembling human habitation. In the distance, he saw a line of mountains and before it a lush green valley that was shrouded in mist.

“Where the hell am I?” he whispered.

Staring upward, he could see the sky was marred by a long eyebrow-like streak, and soaring above the heads of the distant trees were what looked like small airplanes.

No, not airplanes, they flapped wings and were some sort of bird — some sort of giant freaking birds.

His branch quivered, and Gordon held on tight. He sniffed, frowning, as he smelled something like piss or sour vinegar and checked his hands for plant sap.

“Phew.”

He tried to change angles to see in another direction, but his branch quivered again, and then to his shock, began to bend, downward… far downward.

“Hey?”

He turned, and then froze. At the base of the limb where it met the tree trunk was a monster, a snake, big around as a Longhorn steer. It was so motionless he might have thought it was a statue, except a tongue thicker than his arm flickered out as it tasted the air, tasted him, and then drew back in.

Its brown, green, and black scales made it almost invisible in among the foliage and dappled light, but its two dead eyes were like giant glass beads, and he had no doubt they were fixed on him.

Its body curled around the trunk and trailed away beyond his vision, but the head slowly lifted and then began to come forward, its gaze never wavering from him.

Gordon couldn’t look away. He’d once seen a big anaconda eat a possum and had a pretty good idea what this thing had in mind.

“Stay back,” he said with a quaver in his voice as he edged another foot away. His branch bent further, and he quickly glanced down, looking for an escape route.

Could I leap to the next branch down? he wondered. The snake glided ever closer, and with the sound of creaking wood, the branch bent even more.

Gordon knew he had no choice. He released the branch above him to wobble on his thin perch for a moment as he tried as best he could to judge the easiest hand holds below him. Then he leapt.

Red Gordon never got five feet. The snake struck out, catching him in mid-air. Its mouth clamped down on his torso, and it rolled him back up in its coils. The snake was so large the light was blotted out around him, and he felt the massive pressure begin.

The mouth released him and he was thankful for the padding of his suit as he had felt the teeth in his flesh, but they hadn’t penetrated too far into his body.

“Oh God.” He lost all feeling below the waist. Then the coils tightened again and he both felt and heard his hip and ribs begin to pop and crunch like kindling.

“No,” he gasped as his head felt like it was going to explode from the pressure on his circulatory system. The last thing test pilot Major Redmond Gordon saw was the coils parting slightly to offer him head first into a toothed maw the size of a doorway.

This time, he knew he would feel the teeth.

CHAPTER 19

Ben, Drake, and Emma were all lost in their own thoughts as they arrived at the warehouse they’d been using as a staging area for the past few weeks. Every time they felt they were ready, they found another dozen things that needed to be done. The logistical things could be managed. But it was time that was their enemy, and unfortunately, not their only one.

The weeks went by and more incremental changes occurred around them. Some things once familiar now vanished, and new things appeared — a large yellow beetle called a ‘cob,’ for obvious reasons, was found to have a taste for rubber. You needed to check your car before driving, as its favorite meal was the wheel tread, and a single beetle could leave a whole tire completely bald. Several of them together, and you were looking at tattered shreds on steel rims.

There was now a domestic pet called a molecat that was taken into family homes — it was the size and shape of a cat, but was without eyes. It found its way around and also everything it needed by using its hearing and sense of smell.

There were gross changes as well, such as a species of lamprey, those ancient fish-like creatures with circular mouths filled and rasp-like teeth. When it rained, the new species left their waterways and slithered up onto the land, making a meal of livestock. And if they managed to get into your house and found you sleeping, they’d latch onto a limb or torso and leave a painful, weeping sore when they were done.

Nearly every day now, the tingling in their gut followed by the blacking out of all light was occurring. They all knew that whatever was happening was accelerating. No one doubted that there were big changes coming. And they just prayed nothing happened before they had a chance to change it all back.

Drake and Ben walked along a row of their tactical hardware laid out on the warehouse floor. Emma was at the far end also checking off some of her own new equipment arrivals.

“Cheer up,” Drake said.

“I feel like shit,” Ben said.

“What, about bringing in those merc knuckleheads? Forget about it; they know how to deal with deadly risk. They’re hard-asses, and bastards all of them, but damn good at what they do. Plus, they’ve got jungle experience and are totally fearless. They’ll do their job.”

“They didn’t believe me,” Ben said. “I’m, we, are walking them into a freaking prehistoric meat grinder.”

“They’ve risked themselves before, and if they make it, they get a million bucks. Believe me, for that amount of money, they’d go even if I told them they’d have to duke it out with Satan himself.” Drake half smiled.

“If we didn’t need ‘em, I wouldn’t bring ‘em,” Ben replied.

Drake cocked his head. “Hey, you ever heard of the old diving axiom about always swimming with a buddy?”

Ben shook his head and Drake grinned wider. “It’s so it improves your chance of not being the guy who gets eaten by a shark.”

Ben scoffed. “So I should bring them, just so they might be the ones killed instead of me?”

“That’s right,” Emma said, wandering over. “That’s damn right.” She lugged a few big boxes with her.

Drake shrugged. “What can I say? Two against one.”

“You, Ben Cartwright, are going to save your family, and maybe even the entire human race. Those mercenaries are going to make some fast money.” Emma dropped the boxes she carried with a thump, and then folded her arms. “That’s why they call them mercenaries.”

“Brutal,” Ben said.

“But accurate,” Drake added.

“Damn straight.” Emma squared her shoulders.

Ben could see she meant every word and was prepared to fight him on it. “Okay.” He knew that either the mercs went with him, or maybe she’d decide to go as well. And that was something he couldn’t bear. He changed the subject. “What have you got there?”

She crouched by one of the boxes. “We learned a lot last time we went in. Getting there, and I mean up there, proved to be the first and one of the biggest hurdles.”

“You can say that again.” Ben waited.

She laid a hand on one of the boxes. “Flying up to the plateau top is out, as the magnetic pulses knock out electronics, and even using gliders would be impossible due to the wind turbulence. And we found out the hard way that ballooning is subject to attack.”

“And external cliff face climbing is dangerous for non-climbers — sheer walls at over 1,500 feet,” Ben said.

“Deadly,” Drake added.

“Yeah, I was there, I remember.” She half smiled up at him. “Climbing is slow, arduous, and like you pointed out, high risk for novice climbers.” She held up a finger. “But what if we could make climbing safer, and faster?” She pried open the lid on one of the crates and lifted out what looked like a black steel box, 6 x 12 inches, that had a round opening at each end.

She held it up. “Gentlemen, I give you the power winch. The lazy rock climber’s speed lift.” She turned it on its side, holding it flat on her hand. “Can lift 400 pounds of equipment or two people at once. Dual rope feed, and two speeds—3 miles per hour for slow ascent, or rapid lift at 10 miles per hour — you’ll basically fly up.” She pointed. “Rope feeds in one end, and the grip teeth suck it in and spit it out back.” She looked up at the men. “Simple, won’t jam, and so easy, even ex-Special Forces guys can operate it.”

Drake whistled. “I like it. Especially that bit about it being good for lazy climbers and dumb Spec Forces guys.”

“That’ll work,” Ben said. “But one question. The cliff faces of the tepui are between 1,500 and 3,000 feet. And the winch works on pulling us up a rope — so how exactly do we get the rope up the wall for it to feed in and out?”

“Good question.” She flipped open the second box and pulled out what looked like a cross between a rifle and spear gun. “Cliff dart with titanium tip. Just aim and shoot. It’ll penetrate even granite at 300 feet, and the expansion collar will immediately lock it in place.” She stood, holding the gun. “I’ve used these before; once they penetrate the rock’s surface, that’s where they stay. They’re good tech.”

Emma held it up with one hand, sighting along the barrel. “You aim it at where you want it to go in, fire, and then it takes the rope up with it. Then all you need to do is feed it into your winch, and up and away you go.”

She held up a hand when she saw Drake frowning. “Yeah, I know, the cliff face where you’re going to be climbing is around 1,500 feet, so once you’re at the top of your rope, you’ll need to reload and fire again. Then you’ll need to move from rope to rope — I’ve done it before, and you can too.”

“Show us,” Ben said.

Emma quickly mimed the aiming, firing, and then showed them the winch pulling in the rope, and when it came to the end, how to change from one rope to the next without any slippage. It looked simple, but Emma was an expert.

“We’ll need to practice that,” Ben said.

“We all will,” Drake added.

“Okay, your turn.” Emma pointed. “What toys did you bring?”

“Glad you asked.” Drake grinned, and as he walked, he waved a hand over the edge of a sheet where all their weapons were laid out. He stopped. “Okay, for close contact, we got our standard knife kit — hunting and Ka-Bar with Tanto edge. Also, I managed to get a good deal on some new Glocks — short recoil-operated, locked-breech semi-automatics with a box magazine, and all in a non-reflective polymer-frame with a nitride finish.”

“Light and low-jamming, nice ones,” Ben said, crouching to pick one up and hold it in a two-handed grip as he sighted at the far wall.

“My thought was to pack a punch, but be mindful of our weight-to-defense ratio. Last time, we found some of our hardware came up a bit short against the bigger plateau residents. So with that in mind, and also not wanting to load us up with hundreds of pounds of steel, I stuck with the Mossberg 12 gauge, but kicked it up to tactical level with the Venom rotary kit for rapid cycle times, greater shell capacity, and lightning fast reloads.”

Drake picked one up. The shotgun now had a circular magazine on its side. He ran his hand up and along the weapon. “Forend with action bars and grip, 10-round rotary magazine, and barrel clamp.” He held it out front, aimed it from his waist and then from his shoulder, before lowering it and grunting his satisfaction before laying it back down.

“Now we move up to the real kick-ass tech.” He picked up a powerful-looking rifle that was matte-black with a skeletal framework. He looked down at it almost lovingly for a moment before holding it out to Ben.

Ben took it and hefted it. “Barrett M82—the Light Fifty.” He then held it under his arm, testing the balance. “Big punch.”

“Yep, can’t go past the .50-cal, Barrett M82, recoil-operated, semi-automatic, anti-materiel, anti-personnel rifle. Like you said, a big punch, but with a significantly lighter weight compared to previous models.”

“You got us the shorter barrel — smart,” Ben said.

“Sure did; in closed-in spaces, it’s good to have that extra maneuverability. And that’s not all I got.” He ducked down to pick up a magazine box and flipped it open. In it were large shells with a green-on-white tip.

Ben scoffed. “Holy crap, are they Raufoss?”

“You bet your ass.” Drake kept grinning.

“A what?” Emma asked, taking out one of the shells and holding it up.

Drake took it from her and held it up like he was examining a diamond. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Raufoss Mk 211.” He turned it in his fingers. “It’s a .50-cal, multipurpose, anti-material, high-explosive incendiary plus armor-piercing projectile. The multipurpose bit I mentioned is because these bad boys have a tungsten armor-piercing core, plus an explosive and incendiary component. Comes in handy for penetrating armored targets and causing internal damage after that penetration — basically, it’ll punch its way in through the toughest armored hide, and then explode.”

He turned. “So, to quantify that, your standard .50-cal will put a hole the size of your fist through steel. But a Raufoss round will penetrate even the toughest of armored bodies, and then blow bucket-sized chunks of flesh all over the field.”

Emma nodded. “Okay, I feel a bit better now.”

“Me too,” Ben said. “Considering we only want to be there for a single day, if we were going anywhere else, I’d say you’ve gone well over the top. But we all know what we’re going to be up against, so well done.”

“I just hope your friends do as well. Chess and… who?” Emma half smiled.

“Chess, Francis, Shawna, Buster, and… Balls.” Drake grinned. “And by the way, Balls is a woman.”

“Of course she is,” Emma said with a smile. “Tell me about them.”

Drake rubbed his chin theatrically. “Well, Chess is sort of their leader. He’s a big S.O.B., but Ben already established the chain of command with him.” He winked at Ben.

“I can imagine.” Emma rolled her eyes at Ben who just shrugged as Drake went on.

“Shawna is blonde, busted nose, and used to be a bail bond hunter. She’s tough as nails and knows every curse word known to mankind, and a few she’s made up. Francis is a big guy, real big, and ex-MMA. He doesn’t say much but he’s a coffee-colored mountain and good with a gun, knife, and his fists. Even Ben would have trouble with this guy. Next up is Buster; he used to do some freelance work in South America consulting to the drug agencies. Apparently got caught and tortured, so is still a bit twitchy.”

“A problem?” Ben asked.

“Nah, bit of high blood pressure and plenty of scars inside and out, but he’s all good now.” Drake shrugged. “He’ll keep his end up.”

“And Balls?” Emma grinned.

“She’s a tough little one, and a fighter. Smart as a whip, totally fearless, and a crack shot. She’s also probably the brains of the group.”

“And you fired her?” Emma asked.

“Yeah, like I said, she likes to fight, but a little too much.” Drake’s mouth turned down momentarily.

“Quite a team you’ve pulled together,” Emma said.

Ben nodded at Drake. “They’re friends of his.” He chuckled. “Oh yeah, he didn’t just fire her, he fired all of them. So I expect employee loyalty will be off the charts.”

“And that’s why you pay them the money only when they get home,” Drake replied.

“Yeah.” Emma’s mouth set in a line. “Just make sure you come home; everything else is secondary. Drake, you tell them that if Ben doesn’t return, as far as I’m concerned, they can all go to hell.”

“That’s the plan,” Ben said. He grabbed his friend’s shoulder and pulled him close so he could feign whispering into his ear. “I’m sure she means both of us.”

“Yeah, right.” Drake checked his watch. “Okay, we’re done here. I’m gonna pack all this up and send it on ahead. It’s five weeks until Primordia passes over and our doorway opens. We set off Monday morning.” He held out his hand to Emma. “You two have a nice weekend and I’ll see you when we get back.”

She grabbed it and pulled him close into a hug. “Take care of yourself, and take care of Ben… for me.”

He nodded. “Seems to be a full-time job these days.” He turned to Ben. “Monday morning, big guy, we’ve got a date… 100 million years in the past. See you at the airport.”

CHAPTER 20

Andy woke and came to his senses almost immediately as he had trained himself to do. He had found a hiding space beneath a huge tree that might have been some creature’s burrow that looked as if it hadn’t come home for a while — one trip out too many, he surmised.

He and Gluck had moved in and set to barricading themselves in for the night. Morning sunlight just peeked through the cage bars of roots as it had peeked over the horizon.

The tiny flying reptile had wedged itself under his arm as though hiding and was delighted he had finally woken.

“Morning, Daffy.”

“Gluck.” It angled its head, turning one eye on him. Andy grinned down at it.

“Say: thuffering thukotash.”

“Gluck.”

Andy grinned. “Thuffering… ”

“Gluck.”

“Thukotash.”

“Gluck.”

“Thuffering thukotash.”

“Gluck, gluck.”

“I think you’ve finally got it, little buddy.” He rubbed its head, and Gluck climbed up on his thigh, flapping its leathery wings and pulling on the hairs on his leg.

“Hungry.”

“You’re always hungry.” Andy found the last bits of his dried meat and shared it with the animal. Gluck gobbled it down and then went to climb higher on him, as if trying to get under his arm.

“That’s all I got, but big day ahead. Got another sea to check out. We’re here just in time, ‘cause in another dozen million years, it’ll be gone. Blink of an eye, really.” He chuckled.

“Many legs.” Gluck burrowed under his arm.

“Huh?” Andy tried to push Gluck off, but the tiny pterosaur stayed put, and when he went to lift him, he felt it shiver. Andy knew it wasn’t from cold as it was already about 80 degrees and humid, so even hairless, featherless reptiles were in their comfort zone. Gluck started to make tiny noises almost like a mewling whine.

“What’s the matter with you?” he whispered.

He looked around, but there seemed nothing inside to worry them, and he began to wonder whether there was a threat outside their root cave. He looked down at Gluck, who was staring back up, but not at him, at a place just over his head.

Andy slowly lifted his gaze.

“Oh, shit.”

On the roof of their cave was a spider the size of a dinner plate. It was muscular, its body was shiny black like polished plastic, and finger-thick legs covered in hair were spread wide.

Multiple eyes were like drops of oil, and he knew it was watching them. Normally, Andy would just give it space, as small ones like this rarely contemplated attacking something the size of Andy, but a few pounds of skinny pterosaur would have been perfect for it.

No wonder the little guy was trying to get under Andy’s arm, as the spider might have been stalking him for a while.

“Okay, okay, everyone just stay calm.”

While keeping his eyes on the spider, he quickly set to packing up and once done, to unblocking their tree root cave. The spider rotated on the roof so it could continue to track them, and without even being asked, Gluck climbed inside Andy’s bag.

“Good thinking — out of sight, out of stomach.”

He kept one hand on the bag top to keep it closed and then carefully peeked out through the last logs he’d set up. He had to stay that way for many minutes, just letting his eyes run over the jungle floor, then in and around the fronds, stems, and branches. And finally, up above them.

He’d found that morning was a good time to move around — many of the larger daytime predators hadn’t yet roused, and the night shift of carnivores had clocked off.

“All clear… I hope.”

Andy pulled the last of the logs out of the way. He lifted them and placed them to the side, gently, quietly, trying to use all his senses to detect whether anything had taken an interest in his tiny corner of the jungle.

So far, he heard something small in the tree canopy overhead and the patter of morning dew as it dropped from the large pad like leaves to the detritus on the jungle floor.

He took one last look at the spider, which had now crept down from the ceiling to where he and Gluck had slept, perhaps hoping to find traces of the pterosaur.

“Thanks for letting us stay.” Andy saluted it. “Just glad you guys never made it to our time.”

Then he was out, with his life’s belongings packed up, as well as the only friend he had in the world safe inside his bag.

He set off, away from the sun to the west where he knew the inland sea would be, and also following his nose. Andy was excited, curious as all hell, and working hard to slow his impatience. He smiled, thinking that when he was a paleontology student, if anyone had said to him that one day he’d actually see living, breathing Cretaceous Period dinosaurs, he’d have told them to kick the drugs.

Now, he wasn’t just seeing them, he was living among them, and about to cross off one of his ultimate bucket list objectives. He sniffed again, inhaling the brine. His excitement started to peak.

Andy eased through the jungle, darted forward, and then hid. He watched for movement, and when he felt safe, he repeated the entire process over again, and then all over again, and again. It took him two full hours to move through only a thousand feet of jungle, but by then, he began to hear the sound of water against rocks.

Andy got down on his belly. He flipped his bag over onto his back and crawled. In another few minutes, he came to the very edge of the vegetation line and saw the sparkling blue before him. He stood, easing upright beside a tree trunk, and stared out over the vast expanse of water.

“Yes. Oh yes.”

He slowly slid down the trunk to sit cross-legged and partially hidden under some strappy fronds. He felt a little discombobulated knowing that he was the first, and only, human being to ever see this place. And no one ever would again, because by the time man evolved, this vast sea would be long, long gone.

Andy sighed. “At the very edge of the world, I beheld where time began.” He peeked down into his bag. “Do you know who said that?” He looked back out at the sea. “I did, Andy Wilson, just then.”

It was hard to picture, but one day if there even was a cliff top here and he stood on its edge, he would be looking out over an Alabama or maybe Mississippi landscape.

Gazing out over the endless expanse of sparkling water, he noticed it seemed to be in lanes. Perhaps depending on depth? he wondered. In close to the shore, it was a lighter blue, and a little further out, it became a darker blue lane, and then a few hundred feet out further again, it looked to be the blue-black of significant deepness. He frowned, perplexed, as he looked along the different hues, knowing that this inland sea wasn’t all that deep.

“Maybe it’s some sort of tidal or continental current movement,” he guessed.

Andy peered over the edge. The cliff was a few hundred feet high and where he was ended at deep water. The sound he heard was the surf crashing against its face. It was clear, clean, and he knew it would be warm. While he watched, a surge wave came about a thousand feet out from him. Something big had sped forward and attacked something else below the surface.

He waited for another moment and saw the huge back of the beast lump the water and then dive deeper. As it vanished, he saw there was no scythe or flipper tail, but instead a long, flattened oar with distinctive scutes along its top that were like teeth but were actually bony external plates overlaid with horn. It immediately told him it was one of the mighty sea reptiles, like the massive Tylosaurus that grew to 50 feet in length. But this one had looked even bigger, and around this area lived the T-rex of the ocean, the monstrous Hainosaurus.

Andy stared, willing it back to the surface, and it didn’t disappoint him. It surged back up, shaking its head like a dog just below the surface. The creatures had a distinctive long snake-like body, and in fact, they were thought to be related to real snakes. And with their expanding jaws, they ate other animals whole, including other mosasaurs.

As it sank, the sea surface was stained red — whatever it had charged at, it had caught.

Andy exhaled; he’d seen a few of the giant sea reptiles on his sea voyage, but luckily, they didn’t think he was interesting enough to investigate, or worse, eat.

He got down and crawled along the cliff edge for a few hundred feet to an area below that wasn’t under water, and once again went all the way to the very edge of the cliff to lean over. First thing he noticed was the discoloration marks against the cliff’s rocky surface at about 50 feet up from the current waterline.

“Ha, the sea level was once higher,” he said softly. “So it’s already in retreat.”

Down below him now was a plain of exposed mud, and he could see what looked like some sort of crustaceans making foot-wide tracks in the silt as they came out of the water, fossicked in a random pattern, and then headed back into the sea. They looked like some sort of king crab with their rounded bodies, like flattened helmets and long stiff tails sticking out the back.

Andy looked back and forth, trying to find a way down; other than being curious to investigate a few caves at the cliff base, those crabs would make an easy-to-catch meal. He crawled along the lip a little more.

As he shuffled along, he thought he heard a cracking sound like an old board being bent back. He froze and listened for several moments, but it wasn’t repeated so he continued to worm along, looking for a pathway down.

Puffs of dust blew up around him, and the creaking was back, louder than before.

“Oh crap.” He froze again as the entire cliff edge began to crumble. Right in front of him, clods of earth and then rocks began to fall off and tumble in space for a while before smacking into the glistening mud hundreds of feet below.

Popping and more puffs of dust were now coming from behind him as well. Andy tried to edge back but it seemed just the additional pressure from using his hands on the cliff edge was enough to destabilize the lip.

There was a crack like a gunshot and then a table-sized chunk of rock and soil began to slide free — with Andy on it.

“Shi-iit!” he screamed and threw his arms out wide to try and hang on as the entire section he was laying on fell away. His bag was up-ended, and he threw a hand down to slap it shut, just catching it before Gluck fell out, but not in time to save his heavier calendar stone that fell away into space.

The slab of rock hung down at a 45-degree angle but didn’t break off and Andy hung there, closing his eyes to pray for a few seconds. After another moment, he gently pushed the tiny flying reptile further back in the bag and opened his eyes.

I’m still here, he thought. Hundreds of feet below him, he heard the booming smack and ensuing echoes as large rocks hit the mud. Gotta go, he urged and began to use his fingertips and toes to carefully crawl inch after inch up to the firm ground.

After his long years in this place, his body was all stringy muscle and zero excess fat, so he managed to pull himself up without too much strain. He slid himself back up off the hanging rock and then rolled on his back right on the new cliff edge, breathing hard, and after a few moments, he built the courage to look back down.

Way down below, there was no sign of his calendar stone, but the silt beach was littered with debris and impact craters. He could imagine the super hard stone smacking down into the silt, and then something landing on top of it, burying it forever.

After another moment to give his heart rate a chance to return to normal, he crept back to the tree line and then with his back braced against a huge trunk, he was able to relax.

“What a day,” he whispered, as the sunlight was only just now beginning to strengthen. “And it’s only just begun.”

CHAPTER 21

Janine and her husband, Hank, were amateur fossil hunters, and twice yearly they saved enough to spend a week down at the Montgomery fossil beds. Though the entire area’s geology was comprised of Cretaceous Period fossil-bearing stone, she and Hank knew a few places that the others didn’t.

A hundred million years ago, this many-miles-wide dusty plain was under water, and when the seas finally pulled back, it left behind a wealth of bones.

“Got something,” Hank said.

“Me too,” she replied.

Both worked about 20 feet apart, and Hank lifted his head. “What have you got?”

“You first.” She grinned.

Hank pointed with his soft brush. “Tylosaur tooth — big guy. Must have been a 50-footer at least.”

“Wow,” she replied, impressed. Carnivore teeth were highly prized as both personal specimens and also in demand at sales. “Not sure what I’ve got yet. Might not even be a fossil.”

She was carefully excavating what looked like a foot-long rod of a different type of stone embedded in the matrix. It seemed to be ancient slate, which wasn’t usual for this area, and she was beginning to wonder if it had been washed in from somewhere else when the matrix around the specimen crumbled away, half the rod popping free.

She carefully lifted the piece and turned it over — there were hundreds of marks on it that seemed all in rows and didn’t look natural at all. That’s weird, she thought, but none so much as the markings at the top of the stone.

“Well, what have you got?” Hank called.

“Um… hold on.” She quickly dug out the other half of the stone and lifted it, dusted it off, and then turned it over. She carefully brought the second piece together with the first — they fit like a jigsaw. Janine looked at the markings.

“Andy.”

She stared hard, her brain not comprehending what she was seeing. She knew the rock here was Cretaceous to Late Cretaceous—100 million years old if it was a day.

She frowned down at the stone, but there was no mistaking it: the word “Andy” was scratched into the top.

“Well?” Hank stopped digging and while on his knees, he straightened, obviously interested in his wife’s sudden silence and concentration.

Impossible, she thought. And then: ludicrous. Janine began to shake her head. “Nothing; must just be some site contamination.” She let the two halves of the stone drop to the dirt.

CHAPTER 22

Sunday evening and their final night together, Ben and Emma, plus an animated Zach, headed into town for a meal at Bearden’s at Rocky River. It had been Zach’s favorite ever since he was old enough to sit up in one of the long booths.

Not only did they have a cool car stuck on the front of their cottage-style diner — with working headlights — but they also served his all-time, ever-lovin’ favorite meal: the Peanutburger — a steak burger, with the works, and all topped with melted peanut butter.

Emma grinned as she drove; it sounded gross, but the tender, juicy steak with the salty, melted peanut butter tasted like heaven. Probably about a million, billion calories, she bet, but tonight, it’d be one each, plus fries, then pie for dessert, and all washed down with endless sodas—what the hell, they were celebrating.

No, they weren’t, she thought as her smile flattened; she’d make a show of celebrating, laughing, and smiling, but they were saying goodbye to Ben before he and his team headed off. She knew exactly what he’d be walking into, and she knew he’d already been trapped there once, for 10 long, horrifying years.

Ben became trapped the first time because he saved her, and now he was doing it for Zach, her, and the entire world. He was the most selfless man she had ever known.

Emma blinked away watering eyes. He was also the most insane man she had ever known. The risk of being trapped there again or being torn to shreds was so high it was off the charts. She felt a lump in her throat, and her morbid train of thought was only broken by Zach’s laughter from the back seat.

“Dad, I’m putting my fries on my burger this time.”

Ben turned in the seat next to her, looking back at his son. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m putting my fries on my burger, and I’m asking for extra crispy bacon, two layers, to jam on that bad boy as well.”

“I’m doing that too,” Zach said enthusiastically. “What else?”

“Fried egg,” Ben added.

“Um, okay.” Zach’s grin widened. “And…?”

Ben umm’d, and Emma nudged him. “That’s enough. After that, your blood pressure will probably make your head explode.”

“But what a way to go.” Ben laughed as he winked at Zach who joined in, having no idea what blood pressure meant, but probably thinking it sounded pretty cool.

They were heading along Lake Road with the river on one side and the urban area on the other, when Emma felt the familiar tingle in her stomach.

“Oh no.”

The lights went out, and just for a few seconds, it was like being in the vacuum of space. Then everything came back on.

She turned to Ben. “What just…?

“Watch out!” he yelled.

Emma’s head whipped back to the front as a man stood in the center of the street. She nearly stood the car on its nose as she stopped so suddenly, and the guy raised both hands, fists clenched as though he was going to bring them down on the hood.

“What. The. Hell?” Ben stared open-mouthed.

The guy had on gray overalls and only stood about five feet tall. But his shoulders and arms looked so powerful they nearly burst through his clothing. His fists were still raised and his hands were large, gnarled, and covered in hair.

“Oh, Ben,” Emma began and pushed herself back in her seat as they stared at the man, and he stared back at them. “His face.”

Emma couldn’t look away from that visage — his tiny, dark eyes stared out from under a jutting, shelf-like brow-ridge, and his jaw was weak and receding. Hair grew all the way down to his bushy eyebrows, on his cheeks, and sides of his face, as well as hanging long and wiry hair to his shoulders.

“Don’t stare,” Zach said. “It’s rude and they don’t like it.”

Zach leaned between them and made some shapes with his hands. The small eyes of the deformed-looking guy followed his fingers for a moment and then looked like he snorted from wide nostrils before moving on.

“The Neans are okay.” Zach sat back. “But they really hate being stared at just ‘cause they’re a bit ugly.”

Emma and Ben watched as the hunched man crossed the road in a bow-legged gait to join with more people exactly like him — men and women.

“Neans,” Emma said softly.

“As in, Neanderthals.” Ben half turned. “How long have you known about them?”

“Huh?” Zach frowned. “About the Neans?” His frown deepened and his mouth curled up a little in the corners as though waiting for the punch line. When it didn’t come, he went on. “Like forever.”

“What do they do?” Emma asked.

“The tough stuff usually. They’re really strong.” He pointed. “See the guy in the blue cap? That’s Gorin; he’s the Ohio state arm-wrestling champion.”

Ben and Emma continued to stare, and Zach sighed theatrically.

“Can we go now?”

Ben and Emma looked at each other, and she could tell exactly what Ben was thinking: the Neanderthals never died out in this version of reality. The next version they might be gone again, but one thing was for sure: the changes were now working their way up the evolutionary chain and were about to reach them. They might be next.

“Yeah, sure, buddy. The peanut, bacon, and egg burgers are on me.” Ben glanced again out the window at the group of powerfully built hominids. And Emma noticed that he slumped a little in his seat.