Primordia 3: The Lost World—Re-Evolution

CHAPTER 23

“Impossible.” Jim Henson stared into the viewing piece of the 12.5-inch Newtonian reflector. The massive steel tube was now pitted with rust spots on the outside but was too expensive to replace and even cleaning the entire telescopic infrastructure was a bitch.

However, inside the highly polished glass lenses and mirrors, plus large view aperture, still gave the man crisp images of the solar system. Henson typed rapidly into his computer and then stared.

“Predictive position plotting now gives us a 91 % chance of a strike.” He sat back. “This is big.”

Andy Gallagher leaned away from his computer screen. “P/2018-YG874, Primordia, has had close calls before. Besides, it’s basically a massive chunk of iron. It’ll survive.”

Henson typed and shook his head. “Primordia is huge, but this little guy is no lightweight. Its composition is… ” He read from his screen, “… around 20 % being a mixture of nickel, iridium, palladium, platinum, gold, magnesium, plus some osmium, ruthenium, and rhodium thrown in for good measure. But its base, and 80 % of its composition, is also solid damn iron.” He looked up. “It’s an astral ball bearing.”

Gallagher bobbed his head. “A ball bearing meets a wrecking ball — no contest. My money is still on a no-strike — they’ll miss by a thousand miles.”

“You’re forgetting something.” Henson folded his arms on top of his prodigious belly. “Primordia is magnetic.”

CHAPTER 24

Emma and Zach dropped Ben at the airport and she pulled in at a far runway, slowed, and then stopped. He sucked in a huge breath and stepped out.

Ben immediately saw at the end of one of the longest runways a massive airplane sitting there.

“Wow, Dad, is that one yours?” Zach grabbed his arm and hung on, his mouth hanging in an open-mouthed grin.

“Yep, that’d be it — the LRS-B.” Ben could just make out Drake as well as his mercenaries standing around outside. But the airplane exceeded his expectations. It was a retired Long-Range Strike bomber, or LRS-B — matte-black in its radar-reflective paint, looking like some sort of hulking metallic bat.

“Looks fast,” Zach said.

“Subsonic maximum speed. And it can fly for 5,000 miles before we need to refuel.” He looked down and smiled. “In mid-air.”

“Oh wow.” Zach nodded. “I so want to go on it.”

“Looks fast, and expensive,” Emma said, standing beside him and folding her arms. “Does the military know you are stealing one of their stealth planes?”

“Hiring, not stealing, and at great cost. And the LRS-B is an obsolete model now, even though it still has state-of-the-art propulsion, computer systems, radar technology, and can even withstand heavy weapons attack.” He winked at her. “And you don’t want to know what it’s costing to hire it, including a pilot, fuel, a drop-crate, plus extras.”

“The GDP of a small country, I bet.” She lifted her chin. “But worth it I guess to get there fast and without anyone asking too many questions.”

“Yeah, the radar deflection alone will allow us to sneak into South America without them even knowing about it.” Ben got Zach in a headlock. “Hey, I’ll give you a tour when I get back, promise.”

Zach nodded and laughed, and then pointed to the men and women watching them from in front of the bomber. “Are they your friends?”

Ben turned, first to the group and then back to Emma. She rolled her eyes. “Friends, yeah.”

Ben just smiled. “Well, they’re definitely going to be my travel buddies. But my real friends Drake and Helen are there.”

Zach stared for a while and then turned his large eyes up to him. “Dad?”

“Yeah?” Ben crouched and Zach dropped his gaze to his shoes. He wiped his nose. “What’s up, buddy?”

Zach continued to keep his head down and when he spoke, his voice was tiny. “I don’t want you to go. I have a funny feeling in my tummy.”

“A pain?” Ben grabbed his shoulders.

He shook his head. “Just… can you not go this time, and maybe just your friends go?”

Ben hugged him, and for a second, he wanted to jump back in the car and go home and lock the doors. He wanted to spend whatever time they had left with the people he loved most in the world.

Zach sniffed, wiped his nose again, and then reached out to grab Ben’s sleeve with his fingertips. Ben felt the agony of indecision; if he went home, they might have months, weeks, or only days together before things changed to become insane. But if he went and was successful, they may have the rest of their lives together.

There was no choice. “I’ve got to, Zachy. But wherever I am, know that I’m thinking of you. And I’ll feel good knowing that you’re thinking about me.” He raised the boy’s chin to look into his eyes and leaned forward to whisper, “I’ll also feel good that you’re here to protect your mom. She gets a little scared by herself.” He leaned back. “Can you do that?”

Zach gave him a tiny smile and nodded.

“That’s my boy.” Ben hugged him again.

Zach held his arm for a moment. “Can you bring me something back?”

“Sure, like what?” Ben asked.

He hiked bony shoulders. “I dunno; just something cool.”

“You got it.” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “See you when I get back, big guy. Don’t forget; look after your mom for me while I’m away.”

Zach nodded solemnly. “I will, I promise.”

He stood and Emma put an arm around his neck. “You’re mad, and I love and hate you for it.” Her eyes were glistening as she spoke, but she tried to hold a watery smile. “Bring me something back as well.” She brought her face close to his. “You… just you.”

Ben turned to kiss her. And then stared into her eyes. “Just promise me you and Zach will be here when I get back.”

CHAPTER 25

Ben sat next to Drake and Helen in the cavernous rear of the strike bomber. The plane was an enormous piece of modern flying technology, but for all its size, the jets were whisper quiet and allowed all three of them to become lost in their own thoughts.

Ben’s mind took him back to the airport, and he now thought of a hundred things he should have said to his family. He also tried hard to dampen down the niggling thought that it might have been the last time he’d ever see them. He felt a lump in his throat and swallowed hard to make it go away.

He exhaled and looked across at Drake’s mercenaries. Most dozed with sprawled legs and mouths hung open. Chess’ snoring sounded like someone tearing up canvas sheets. But it didn’t seem to bother the brawny Shawna beside him who was also lights-out.

The huge Francis had his hands clasped together and eyes closed, and Ben wondered whether this was how he relaxed or perhaps he was saying some silent prayers.

Ben then glanced across to catch Balls, or Bianca, smiling at him. She winked and then continued to hold his gaze. For the last few days, she’d been extremely helpful, friendly, and way too flirty. Ben nodded back and knew that Emma would have vetoed her coming along if she had seen any of that.

He let his eyes slide to the last of the group, Buster. Ever since they had departed, the guy had worried him. He’d seen good soldiers become strung out on adrenaline before. Most handled it well when they were young or trained to deal with the stress. But some entered a state of permanent agitation and became hyper-alert, hair triggered, and/or short-tempered. Buster’s eyes were open and constantly darting. Drake said the guy would do his job; he hoped so, as they’d have enough problems to deal with once they walked into their own private hell.

A red light came on overhead, the lights dimmed, and blackout globes lit up. It meant it was time to move into their drop crate, a little bit of new technology they were using for landing that removed the necessity of a formal arrival or letting anyone know they were coming. And it didn’t even need a runway.

Other than them, the drop crate was the only thing in the rear of the bomber, and they filed in and took their seats along either side. It was armored and looked like a cargo container except it was packed with modern technology. The drop crate would slide from the rear of the plane and then a rotating wing on each corner would deploy to lower them to the ground.

There was minimal guidance, and it could only be moved by increasing or reducing power to one or more of the mini-chopper wings. Drop crates were primarily used for cargo drops when the materials needed to be kept intact. It had been used for personnel before but wasn’t recommended, and it also wasn’t really meant to fly, just supposed to find a suitable place to land without breaking the equipment, or bodies, inside.

The other reason they now needed to use it was that Ben and Drake had discovered that for some reason the airport at Caracas didn’t exist anymore, and the capital city of Venezuela that they knew had a population of over 2 million was now little more than a ramshackle town. It seemed a recent re-evolution change had wiped most of it away.

Also, the major river they once traversed, the Rio Caroni, a once mighty coffee-brown water laneway snaking through the Amazon jungle, was down to a trickle in this area. Whatever was happening to their world wasn’t just affecting the population and cities, but now also the geography.

The other obstacles Ben found they needed to surmount were that there were now few modern settlements, no guides, and the Amazon jungle was deemed a largely unexplored no-go place. This last bit filled Ben, Drake, and Helen with trepidation — they always knew it was a place where dangers lurked everywhere, but it was eminently survivable if you had the right experience. But now, something else had obviously changed in there.

Ready for drop, the pilot intoned from the overhead speaker.

Ben sucked in a deep breath. I guess we’ll all find out soon enough, he thought as he tightened the straps across his upper body.

From outside the fortified container came the faint whine of hydraulics and Ben expected it was the bomber’s rear cargo door yawning open. He suspected there would now be howling winds inside the rear cabin, but they were sheltered, locked inside their steel cocoon.

Around them all crated up and tied down were their weapons, climbing gear, and supplies. Ben closed his eyes for a moment as he felt nervousness creep into his belly.

On my mark, 3, 2, 1… mark. So long and good luck, people.

“Here we go,” Drake said. He pulled an extendable arm around in front of him that was a little like an airline tray table and opened the small screen.

There was a clunk, a drop of about an inch, and then the sound of rollers for a few seconds. Finally, there came a sensation of weightlessness. Their tiny steel world dipped, the overhead rotors whirred to life, and then the drop crate automatically righted itself in space.

On Drake’s control console were four small toggles, which he worked, shifting power to one or the other as he checked for a suitable landing space that was devoid of water, rocks, or trees.

They’d hoped to set down about a day’s march from the plateau, as it was the most level ground for hundreds of miles, and then have 48 hours to be there when Primordia was directly overhead.

“There,” Drake said.

Ben leaned across and saw where his friend was pointing — there was a small clearing, just 50 square feet, that would fit them in with little room to spare. There were tall trees surrounding it, but as there were no huge canopies to contend with, the rotors only extended a few feet out from all four corners.

“Get ready, people, coming in on, 10, 9, 8… ” Drake’s hands were a blur as he shifted power around the rotors to guide the crate in. “3, 2, 1… ”

Then the lights went out.

“Oh no,” Helen whispered in the darkness as Ben felt that weird butterfly fluttering sensation that started in his stomach and then tingled all the way from his scalp to his toes.

The light came back on and Ben noticed they had only been around a dozen feet up when the lights were out, and when they came back on, they were still a dozen feet up, even after the lapsing of what he thought had been a few seconds. It was as if time stood still in those void-like moments.

The container gently settled and Ben looked one way then the other. “Everything okay?”

Drake and Helen’s faces were pale and cautious, but the mercs just looked bored.

“Sure, why wouldn’t it be?” Chess asked.

“Hey, where’s Bianca, uh, Balls?” Ben asked, frowning. He quickly looked to the door, but he already knew it was still sealed tight.

“Who?” Chess asked.

“Damnit, Bianca Alejandra, and whatever the rest of her name was. You guys called her Balls?” Ben said and pointed to the vacant space beside Francis. “She was just there.”

“Balls?” Francis looked down to the empty space next to him, and then slowly shook his head. His voice was basement deep. “Ain’t no one there now, and ain’t no one been there. Don’t be losin’ it now, brother.”

Ben cursed and ran both hands up through his hair. Helen leaned across to him. “It’s starting on us now: erasure.”

Ben looked up at her. “Let’s hope we’re in time.”

CHAPTER 26

Andy finally made it down onto the debris-strewn beach and he stood on the silty shoreline, flexing his aching fingers from the climb, and looked back up; the cliff top was far above him, and he had no doubt if he had fallen when the edge broke off, he’d have been killed. Or even if he had survived, and only ended up with one or more broken limbs, in this place, it would have been a death sentence anyway.

His first order of business was to grab up several of the flattened helmet crabs that meandered along the sand making wide tracks. They were slow and in no time, he had several large ones stacked like plates under his arm.

Andy quickly turned to the ocean, always mindful of being in an open space. It was shallow at first but darkened quickly to deeper water. The amazing thing about it was that it surged sideways along the rocks and sand as if it was a monstrous river.

The surge moved rapidly, far faster than walking pace, and he guessed it traveled for miles; hundreds even, on the turn of the tide. Given there was around six hours for a full change of tide, he bet if he was in his boat, he could travel for miles.

Right now, it was heading north, but sooner or later it would stop, then become calm for a while as the tide had reached its zenith or nadir depending if it had been on the run in or out, and then it would turn to begin its southern run. Maybe all the way down south where the inland sea reached the open ocean. It might even join up with one of the continental currents and travel all the way to where he pulled his little boat up at the estuary mouth all those months back.

“Need a boat.” He looked up and saw the stand of trees at the cliff line. He thought about it for a brief moment but then gave up. “Too hard, too long.” He sighed and turned back to watch the surge for a little longer.

A thought crossed his mind: he could actually use it to travel further up inside the continent, at least along the coast of Appalachia. There were places he was still desperate to see in the lands that would one day merge to become North America.

He turned southward: or should he try and head back down to South America again to watch the effects of Primordia? After all, Appalachia and Laramidia would be here tomorrow and every day for millions more years. But the comet Primordia only ever came once every decade.

What a sight it would be to watch as that plateau became shrouded in its curtain of rain and that tiny section of Amazon jungle was somehow thrown forward, or them backward, so the two time zones briefly overlapped.

Truth was, a small part of him was calling him home. He held up his hand that was missing the fingers. He smiled at it and flexed it — the damned thing still hurt. His body was all skin and bones, covered with a hundred different scars. Added to that, his back teeth were loose and he often suffered from chronic diarrhea from eating things that he obviously shouldn’t.

Andy knew in his heart that this was no place to be an old man and alone. He exhaled and watched the water barreling north. Maybe I can just head back down and when I see the portal open, I can decide then.

He flexed his hand again — it ached, and there was even a tiny nub of bone showing. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to get some supplies, medicine, knives, and whatever.

“If they even come,” he whispered, but then: “Nah, Helen will.”

He smiled at the mental images of his sister forming in his mind. First there came the ones of a little girl falling off a swing, and then her standing in the water with a beaming grin, her Sammy the Seal pool float around her waist. Next came her in a prom dress and being taken to the dance by the college meathead called Jack Harding, who probably had the IQ of a tree stump.

His vision blurred as his eyes watered as his mind took him home — then came university, and he and she had graduated together as the first brother and sister paleontologists in the state.

Andy suddenly realized he missed her terribly. In reality, he missed everybody and anybody. He peeked into his bag. “Sometimes your conversation skills just don’t cut it, my little friend.”

“And yours do?” The tiny thing tilted its head. “Gluck.”

“Exactly.” He looked back at the surging sea and watched as a massive tree trunk, hundreds of feet long and probably twenty feet wide, passed him by on its way up the coast. Its branches and roots acted like stabilizers so it didn’t roll or bob.

His mouth dropped open as it continued on by, fast, and traveling at about 10 knots in the surge — that was a good running speed.

“I need a boat,” he repeated, and his mouth curled up at the corners as a plan began to take shape in his mind. Andy turned to look down the coastline and then back up. The tree was still in sight, but now already about 1,000 feet further up the coast.

From where he stood, there was nothing but cliffs, rubble and little else down the coast. But just further up from where he stood, there was a small spit of sand and stone. The tree must have passed so close to it; it would almost have been leaping distance.

“Maybe,” he whispered.

He started to walk up along the beach, picking up more crabs and other things that could be edible as he went. Supplies, he now thought.

He needed a boat, and Mother Nature provided one for him. If things went to plan, he’d be on that damned log for hours, and if things really went to plan, maybe even days.

As he watched, the surge began to slow. “Here we go.” It was the change of tide, and soon the opposite surge would start and keep up for hours. He had to be at the spit waiting for the tree trunk or he’d miss his ride.

Andy started to run alongside the now glass-calm sea, his feet slapping in puddles that sprayed his legs with warm water. But then from the corner of his eye, he detected a flicker of movement.

“Shit.” He leapt to the side as the long shining body launched itself from the water.

He scrabbled backward as the jaws snapped shut and kept snapping as the thing moved seal-like up onto the beach after him.

It was a mosasaur, a small one at about 25 feet long. The calm water had created a window-like surface, and coupled with Andy jogging along the sand, he had attracted a predator whose eyes were adapted to focus on moving prey.

However, the water was its kingdom, and on land it was well out of its element. The mosasaur gave up and flipped itself back into the water, but Andy could still see it gliding along under the surface beside him.

“Dumb, dumb, and dumber,” he berated himself. He walked even further from the water and sat down. “Now what?” he wondered.

He had to get to the tree stump, which meant even if it came real close to the spit, he would still need to cross some of the water by swimming. If he dragged this thing up the coast with him, he wouldn’t make two feet of open water, let alone a few dozen.

He picked up a stone from the sand and threw it out into the water.

“Fuck you!” he yelled.

There was a surge toward where the rock landed, and he watched for a moment with narrowed eyes.

“Okay, you find that interesting, huh?” He picked up some more and threw them again and again. This time, the mosasaur came to the surface, and he managed to land one smack onto its back.

With a gout of water, it thrashed away. Andy watched for many more minutes, but there was no dark shape gliding back and forth.

“And goodbye to you too… I hope.”

Andy looked up at the sun — it was still only at mid-morning. Everything he owned was with him or on him, and he had miles to travel. He decided. He began to walk up the beach to the cliff wall, and then turned to head north toward the small spit that was like a natural wharf that would take him out from the coast.

If he was going to hitch a ride, he knew he would have to cross some water — so the farther he could get out onto that spit, the better.

It took him 30 more minutes to reach the spit, and in the far distance, he could see the massive tree starting to make its way back down toward him. It was moving slowly, probably only a few miles per hour right now. But as soon as the tide really began to turn, it would pick up speed. He needed to be on it and settled by then.

The rock wharf extended out like a finger for about 50 feet, and by the way the water pushed up in a small wave at its end, there must have been a sand spit as well.

Andy turned to look up the coast again — the log was about 500 feet from him, and now picking up speed. There were plenty of leafless branches and gnarled roots for him to use as a ladder to climb up when he got there, and he mentally went through the motions he would use — swim, grab on, climb up, don’t look down, don’t look back.

He turned and faced the water again. Just beyond the spit, the shelf would drop away to at least 50 feet in close, maybe more, otherwise the tree trunk’s branches would get snagged up on the bottom.

Andy opened his bag and reached in for the last remnants of a shirt that was just a length of rag now. He carefully picked up Gluck and began to wrap him up like he was swaddling a tiny infant. The small reptile had felt it before and didn’t complain too much.

“Gonna get wet real soon. Wish me luck, and you hold your breath.”

“Good luck, Andy friend.”

“Thank you. And I know you didn’t really say that.” He smiled. “But I don’t care.”

Gluck never made another noise as Andy pushed him down deep into the bag and tied it closed. He then secured it over his shoulder.

He rolled his shoulders like an Olympic swimmer getting ready for a heat and looked to one side of the rocky spit then to the other. The water was fairly shallow so the risk was minimal. But further out…

He carefully moved along the rocks, slowly, arms out. His gaze went from the tree stump, to the rocks, and then to the water—I need eyes in the back of my head, plus a few more on the sides, he thought.

When he reached the end of the rocks, he saw that there was a sand bar extending for another dozen feet, just about a foot below the waterline. Beyond, the water was dark blue and he could see the rip lines as it was beginning to pick up speed as it headed down south on the outgoing tide.

Andy looked toward the massive log again that was bearing down on him and also picking up speed. He only had a few minutes more before he had to commit — he wanted, needed, more time, but any second now, it’d be at the go/no-go split.

His heart galloped like a racehorse in his chest.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he whispered from a cotton-dry mouth.

Damnit, he thought. Gotta catch my ride, see Helen again. He stepped down onto the sandbar.

CHAPTER 27

Ben waited while Drake slid the door back on the drop crate, and as soon as it was open, the heat, damp, and smells of the jungle rushed in. He inhaled the wet smell of decay, the cloying sweetness of scented blooms intermixing with the sharp tang of acidic plant resins. There was also the smell of the rich soil and corruption — life and death in equal measures was all around them.

Walking further out into the small clearing, Ben could almost physically feel the waves of raucous sound from a million insects competing in song to attract a mate, give a warning, or just enjoying the warmth of the sun. Things flitted through the jungle canopy, some small and brightly colored and others larger shapes that caused the leaves to rain down like confetti.

“Welcome home,” Drake said.

“God, I missed this place,” Ben said.

“Really?” Drake’s brows went up.

Ben turned and grinned. “Nah, not one bit.”

Helen joined them. “And then we were seven.”

“Yeah.” Ben sighed. “And only we noticed her gone.” He looked at Helen. “Like you said, it’s reached us. But I don’t understand how it just took her? What happened?”

Helen shook her head. “Who knows? Maybe somewhere back in her lineage something happened to change direction — an ancestor had a son instead of a daughter, or maybe never had children at all.”

“We could be next,” Drake added.

“Sobering.” Ben looked over his shoulder at the mercs and then lowered his voice. “Do you think… it will affect us?”

“Who can say?” Her mouth turned down. “But my guess is that the bigger changes will start to happen soon and become evident.” She looked up at him. “But evident only to us.” She looked down at something moving through the grasses at their feet and crouched to scoop it up.

Helen opened her hands and let Ben and Drake crowd closer. “Like, what’s this thing?”

In her hand was a tiny creature that just covered her palm. It was the size of a mouse, except instead of fur it had pebbly skin and a beak rather than a long whiskered snout.

“Some sort of… ” Drake just snorted, “… ugly little bastard?”

The thing mewled like a cat as Helen turned it one way then the other. “Well, it looks like an Aquilops, a distant relative to the huge Triceratops. But it’s different — new things are appearing, and old things are winking out.” She put it down. “But one thing’s for sure, it shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should we,” Ben said. He turned and whistled to Chess and waved the mercs on before turning back to Helen and Drake. “Seems we’re in a race. We find Andy and bring him back before we get erased from history. We can’t afford to lose.”

CHAPTER 28

Andy sunk down into the sand a few inches and felt the strength of the current in bath-warm water as it came to just above his knees. The sand spit was only about 10 feet wide and was like a shoulder that sloped to rocks on either side.

He licked his lips and tore his gaze away from the water, saw the tree trunk approaching now just another 100 feet further north and, worryingly, was going to pass by a lot further out than he anticipated.

50 feet, he thought apprehensively. He tried to do the math — a single swim stroke would drag him forward about 3 to 4 feet, so maybe 15–16 strokes, 20 tops, and he’d be there. Once he got into the shadow of the log, anything in the water wouldn’t be able to see him.

As the tree approached, he was able to get a better look at its characteristics: leafless branches, some massive, extended 20 feet in the air and all clustered around the front end. And at the other end, the roots were like a massive 10-foot-wide tangle. But there was plenty of room in among them for one skinny paleontologist to hide — he’d be caged in, but everything else would be caged out, so that’s where he’d head for: the rear.

Andy stood just back from the very end of the spit and waited. He mentally calculated the timing he would need — dive in, stroke hard, try and intercept the log as it passed by. If he went too early, he might be carried away in the tidal surge. If he was too late, he might never catch up to it. He needed to time it so the trunk was right in front of him when he was out there. The absolute least time he spent in the water, the better chance he had of surviving.

He quickly crossed back to the rocky spit and picked up a piece of loose stone. He brought it back and flung it far out into the sea — nothing surged toward it, and other than the ripples from the moving water, there also seemed nothing else lurking. He counted down, flexing his hand and bending his knees that felt weak and trembling.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6—look left and right—3, 2, 1…

He dived. Even though the water was tropical warm, he felt a chill run right through his body. He swam hard, too hard, thrashing like a machine. Slow down! his mind screamed, but his primitive brain refused to listen, and he thrashed onward. He knew his flailing strokes would attract predators but he wanted to be out of the water more than anything else in his life.

Andy didn’t want to, but he opened his eyes. Down below him was a flick of movement, and it caused a little bit of piss to shoot from his groin.

Oh fuck, he thought. The mosasaur was down there. He lifted his head — just 15 more feet.

The long and straight trunk towered above him and he thought its size meant it might have been some sort of early species of Sequoia that had been around since the Jurassic. For something so colossally huge, it was moving fast, way too fast.

The jig was up and he had nothing to lose but his life. His fear shot adrenaline into his system and with it came a burst of energy. He threw his arms over and kicked hard. He was no champion swimmer, but he bet he would have left Michael Phelps in his wake.

On his back, his satchel, even though mostly closed, was acting like a water parachute and slowing him down. There came a surge from beneath him, and his stomach fluttered as it was exposed to the depths. Andy swam with his head up now, counting down—10 feet, 8, then 5.

He didn’t want to look down or back anymore, just willing himself to thrash toward the tangle of tree roots. In another few seconds, he was jammed in among them and kept going until he was in their very heart, just as something welled up, nudged the massive tree trunk, and covered him in spray.

“Ha!” he yelled and spun back. “Fuck you.” He turned around and hung onto some roots and puffed hard like a steam train. He felt ill and his stomach threatened to lose the precious little food it had in it. But he swallowed hard and willed it down, and also forced himself to breathe slower. He could do nothing about his heart rate that was still sprinting in his chest. He’d had close calls before, but there was something about dark water that scared the shit out of him.

In another few minutes, he had regained enough energy to clamber up onto the top of the log. It was wide, stable as he had hoped, and he flopped down to lean his back against a stout gnarly root. Andy lifted his face to the sun. It warmed him, and he thanked whatever gods were up there for looking after him.

“Oh no.” He suddenly jerked forward and dragged his bag around in front of him, quickly untying it and searching for his little friend. It was a wet jumble inside, and he remembered the bag filling and slowing him down. Anything could have been flushed out.

A tiny sneeze and a head shake. “Gluck.”

Andy let out a relieved chuckle.

The little pterosaur blinked up at him. “Thanks a lot.”

“Don’t ask, buddy; you don’t want to know.” He lifted the flying reptile from the bag and gently laid it on the trunk’s surface in front of him. Gluck hopped in a circle and then stared out over the tree trunk’s side at the water.

“Yep.” Andy did the same. “We’re on the bus.” He watched as the shoreline hurried past. He must have been traveling at a good 10 miles per hour by now, and he could see the landscape of late morning, with all its marvelous creatures hunting, killing, fleeing, or dying in their primitive and brutal world.

As the cliffs gave way to more open landscape, he saw a Triceratops with a huge bony crest and three horns, two massive ones up top each easily six feet long, and astoundingly, the colors were magnificent, in brown, brick red, and some green. One pawed at the ground like a bull and snorted, and must have weighed as much as a school bus.

Andy lifted his hands in a box shape and brought them to his eye. “Click.” He lowered his hands. “Just one photo, that’s all I want.” He sighed as he continued to watch the show.

There were also herds of hadrosaurs, with sail-crested heads. “Corythosaurus.” He said, and then: “No, bigger, maybe even Hypacrosaurus.”

He straightened when he spotted the box-like head peeking between some trees. “Look out,” he whispered and pointed. The carnosaur burst free, and the herd of hadrosaurs panicked. But the massive predator’s hugely muscled legs pounded down on the ground, going from 0 to 30 miles per hour in a blink, and then caught a medium-sized hadrosaur, holding it with a foot, and bringing its six-foot jaws down on a long neck. Even from where he sat, Andy could hear the vertebrae crack from the thousands of pounds per square inch bite pressure.

“Wow,” he mouthed. “That’s the photo I want.”

It all suddenly made him remember why he was here — he could be killed, horribly, any second. But this world at this time was magnificent in its ability to terrify, but it was also so beautiful that it made his heart leap in his chest.

“Ouch.” Something jabbed his leg. He lifted his bag and saw one of the sharp crab legs was protruding through his bag. His stomach rumbled, reminding him it had been many hours since he last ate.

He drew the bag between his legs and fished out the first of the crabs. They had a huge disc-like head, long spindly legs, and a whip-like tail that contained next to no meat.

“It’s not your lucky day.” He broke the legs off and the tail and placed the pieces on the log before him. It took him several more minutes to tease out the meat from the legs using the hard spiky tail like a spear, and he shared some with his ever-hungry small friend — the meat was raw, cold, salty from the ocean, and damned magnificent.

Finished with the legs, he began to bash the crab’s head on the hard wood, finally cracking it along the seam and opening it up like a lid. Inside were gill fans, mushy-looking gray organs, and some muscle-meat near the leg-joints. He teased that out first, and then ate most of everything, handing over the really unidentifiable stuff to Gluck.

Finished, he quickly tossed the remains of his meal over the side, as he knew what dead crustacean was like when it was left in the sun for while — it became so pungent it attracted predators from miles away.

Andy licked his fingers and tossed the last shell over the side. His hands were sticky and smelled already. He rose to a crouch.

“Wait there, buddy.”

He climbed down, staying within his tree root cage toward the water, and leaning down, dipped his hands in to rub them together. He was about to turn away when he chanced to look deeper and there, sure enough, was a long gray shape that dived below the log.

“Ah, not you again.”

It seemed his friend from before hadn’t quite given up and was following him down the coast. Andy was about five feet up from the water and his tree was quite stable. Barring hitting surf, he should stay high and dry and out of trouble.

He clambered back up to his root nest and stood to crane his neck and look out at what was ahead — there were no more spits or white-water areas that might have indicated a reef, bank, or even shallow water.

His only problem was the coast seemed to be receding, and he was heading straight. Slowly but surely, he had gone from being 50 feet from the shoreline to now about 150, and the water here was impenetrably dark.

For now, I’m okay, he thought as the tide was still on run-out and was taking him with it along the coast. He was moving fast and guessed he must have crossed many dozens of miles. Trying to trek through the jungle would have taken him days to do what he’d done in a matter of hours.

There came a wet hissing sound like a soda bottle being opened and Andy looked down at the water to see the mosasaur surface. It exhaled through its snout, blowing water and air upward, and then sucked in another huge breath. Its nasal flaps closed over the snout holes and back down it went. But not before it turned one enormous and very human-like eye on him for a second or two just to make sure he was still there.

Mosasaurs were marine reptiles, but they breathed air just like sea turtles. Over the millions of years they existed, they had evolved enormous, long lungs and could stay down for an hour. It meant they were excellent ambush predators, waiting down deep and then coming up fast to catch something unaware on the surface.

Andy exhaled and looked back down southward. How long would it track him? Possibly in the next few hours, they’d reach the tide’s peak low point, and then there’d be a period of calm before the tide started to run back in. At that point, he was planning to leave his makeshift cruise liner. The danger was he now found himself a good 200 feet from the shore.

He looked down and saw the shadow pass underneath his tree trunk again.

Well, that’s just great, he whispered. I only just made 50 feet, how am I ever going to make 200? He looked back over his shoulder; did it now mean he was stuck and going to have to ride the tree back up the coast again? Would the massive sequoia finally beach itself, or would it eventually be washed out to sea where he’d slowly starve or die of dehydration?

“Gluck.” The small flying reptile found a few extra shreds of drying crab in amongst the bark and pecked them up and ate them. Andy smiled down at it.

“Don’t worry, little guy, I’m never going to eat you.”

It hopped up on his leg and sat down. The tiny pterosaurs weighed next to nothing; a combination of having a small frame and hollow bones just like a bird.

“Besides, there’s no meat on you.” Andy stroked its head. It was a warm, leathery feeling, with a few bristles on its hide, perhaps early forms of feathers. It was like touching a warm, plucked chicken.

“I wish you could fly… for your sake.” He leaned back into his tree root chair. But I’m glad you can’t, he thought. Because if Gluck was ever able to fly away, I’d be left alone.

Andy started to hum a tune, and then broke into a song. It made him feel good, but homesick. The weird thing was, he needed to hear a voice, any voice, even his own. Deep down, he knew Gluck talking to him was really his mind so craving interaction, it had created one for him.

We humans are weird, he thought. We all want to be left alone, until we really are. Then we all want to be with someone.

He sat in the Cretaceous sunshine and let his mind wander as he sailed ever onward. What would he do when, if, he saw Helen again? His eyes watered.

“I miss you, sis.”

He sniffed, still trying to decide his future. There was a place up in North America were there was an explosion of evolution around the time of the Late Cretaceous Period, right about now, that led to all manner of new forms.

Why did new species come out of there? What was so special about that place? He desperately wanted to see it, and maybe he could talk Helen into staying and coming and seeing it with him. He bet she’d like it.

Andy immediately brightened. Hey, maybe that was why she was coming. She missed him, and she wanted to do what he did — explore. He grinned. This might turn out to be a really cool idea after all.

Andy looked down and saw the long, shiny, but clearly reptilian body come to the surface, roll, stare, and then sink back down. He suddenly knew what it reminded him of — a massive Komodo dragon lizard, with a smooth body, and flippers where its legs should be.

“I wish you’d just fuck off.” He sat back and tried to ignore his nemesis. It was still hours until the tide turned. I still got time. He hoped.

Andy had been right about the different hues of seawater representing different currents. The massive continents of Appalachia and Laramidia were in the middle of a massive ocean-wide northern hemisphere current that came up along its external coasts, and was drawn in the northern opening to then return to the southern hemisphere via the inland sea, exiting down where Florida would be one day.

While the tides moved in and out along the coastal areas, the current further out was a constant southward drift. And that was where the mosasaur had bumped his tree trunk.

Andy didn’t yet know it, but for him, there would be no tide change. His trip was one-way and would take him all the way out into the depths of the prehistoric ocean.

Another hour sailed by, and Andy’s tree trunk ride was veering even further away from the coastline. He was hungry but didn’t want to eat his last crab just yet.

From time to time, he had been lowering his bag into the water to keep the crustacean fresh. And so far, every time he’d done it, there had been nothing down there but deep blue ocean.

He dared to hope that the water hunter had finally given up. He eased back in amongst his nest of wild roots. Without the constant presence of the mosasaur, he thankfully only had one problem to worry about now — getting to dry land.

Gluck busied himself further down the log, finding something interesting in among the rotting scales of bark. It cheered him a little to think that at least he seemed to be finding something to eat.

He turned to watch the land pass by. He was now a good 500 feet from the shoreline now, and he bet he had traveled hundreds of miles. As there was no coastline on the other side, he couldn’t be sure if he was now heading out into the open ocean or was still traveling down along the edge of Appalachia. But the key thing was, he was still heading down the coast.

He sat forward. Why? Why was he still heading down the coast? Then it hit him — the tide never changed. He got to his knees, making the small pterosaur raise its head in alarm.

“Hey, we should have been going the other way by now. Or at least becalmed as we hit mid-tide.”

He put a hand over his eyes and squinted in at the shoreline. There they were, those stripes of different colored water, the lanes, and as he watched, they passed by mounds of floating debris, fast. No, that wasn’t right. They were going one way, and the debris in closer was going the other.

“Oh, shit no, we must be in some sort of sea current.”

Andy continued to watch for a while, and then he guessed it didn’t matter. The basic fact was, they were still going the way he wanted, but his priority was he needed to be closer to the shore or he would eventually starve, or in the next storm be tipped into the water where there was death in a hundred massive forms lurking below.

Andy squinted at his tree trunk. He needed something — maybe a makeshift paddle, or rudder, so he could at least steer his log, even if it was just a little. He carefully got to his feet, making sure to hold onto a lengthy root. Further down the tree were long branches, some still with the remnants of dried leaves. Perhaps if he could break one off, he could use it.

He walked carefully along the log and came to the first — it was about 15 feet high before it broke off, and as thick around as his waist. He’d need an axe to chop through it. Further down, there were smaller ones, but that was where the end of the mighty tree got thinner, and therefore its buoyancy was reduced — and that meant the entire log was lower in the water.

“Oh boy,” he whispered.

The sea around him was deep blue, and shafts of light vanished into it for perhaps a few dozen feet. Below that, it turned to ink. But he knew from below, up here in the sunshine he stood out clearly even from the depths. That meant anything down there could see him long before he got to see it.

Andy braced his feet and stared at the spray of branches. There were a couple of longer ones that were thinner half way up, and maybe he could at least snap them off.

The log bobbed in the dark blue water and seemed to be stationary even though he knew they were drifting fast now in some sort of sea current. He looked from the water to the branches again and mentally calculated how much time it would take to get there, snap one off, and then scurry back.

“Seconds,” he whispered.

“Gluck.”

The small flying reptile was watching him keenly, and it didn’t look happy. Andy took a few steps.

“Please don’t do it.”

There was no doubt that the pterosaur was calling him back.

“Yeah, I hear you.” He blew air through his lips. “But I’ll be greased lightning, I promise.”

He widened his stance, getting ready to run toward his target branch. In his mind, he saw it all in slow motion — him darting forward, snapping the limb off, and being back before anything was the wiser.

“You’ll never make it. Ple-eeease don’t, Andy!”

“Shush.” He turned and put a finger to his lips. “Just keep a lookout for me okay, little buddy?” He drew in a breath and felt the knot of nervousness in his empty belly.

“Ready, set… go.” He sprinted forward.

The log surface was sun-dried and traction was good. He only had to travel about 15 feet to the first large branch, dodge around it, and then run another 10 feet or so to his destination branch.

At the first massive limb, he slowed, turned his back to it, and edged around it. He slipped a little as the curve of the log was closer to the waterline, meaning it had become a little more waterlogged and greasy.

But just as he came back up to the top, the creature exploded from the water. Andy screamed and stumbled back to the top, but way too fast. He went over the other side.

In seconds, he was spluttering on the surface and looking up at the top of the branch some four feet above him and too high and steep to climb. Up there, the mosasaur hung, having come right up out of the water to get at him. Its massive seal-like body writhed and thrashed as it looked to either roll back into the water or keep going to get to Andy over the top.

Andy gave up the idea of trying to climb back up here and swam to the root ball at the rear. The predator curled its body and with a thunderous splash, flipped back into the water on the other side, making the massive log bob up and down half a dozen feet in the water

Now, it and Andy were both in the monster’s domain. But fear gave him energy and he was in among the roots in seconds. He didn’t stop as he then clambered back up into his root cockpit, cutting and grazing himself in his haste.

“Fuck.” He lay back, breathing hard. The small pterosaur hopped up onto his leg and actually pecked his thigh.

“Ouch.”

He looked down at the tiny creature as it turned one tiny red eye on him. Andy continued to suck in deep breaths as his heart raced in his chest.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you told me so.”

Andy pushed the wet hair back off his face and looked about. The land seemed even further away. “This might not have been a good idea after all.”

Andy turned toward the branches, knowing now that getting one was an option that was never going to materialize. He needed another plan, he needed something, anything, and even a little luck would do.

He continued to stare at the branches. “You know what they say? Necessity is the mother of invention.” He looked down at the small flying reptile. “So, all I need is a chainsaw, 50 feet of soft rope, and an outboard motor, and we’d be outta here, little buddy.”

He smiled, sighed, and then rested his forearms on his knees. In the distance, there was a smudge on the horizon, and the hint of a cool breeze kicked up to gently ruffle the surface of the sea.

He groaned, knowing exactly what that could mean. “Not good. Very not good.” He rubbed both hands up through his long hair and leant back. “I need to think about this while I’ve still got a little bit of time.” His adrenaline had now leaked from his body, leaving him bone tired and feeling a little sick.

Andy tilted his head back and closed gritty eyes; the sun was warm and dappled on his face as it worked its way through the root canopy and into his skin.

After another moment, he dozed.

CHAPTER 29

Gil stood at the river mouth where the warm water was shallow and there was about another dozen feet to go before the deeper water of the channel drop off. It was just coming on dawn, and he was first out, pegging out the best fishing spot.

Even though there was still a slight chill in the dawn air, he was in his new trout fishing pants and warm as toast. He hummed softly as thoughts of his struggling hardware business were far, far away.

Where he fished, the river emptied out into the ocean, and the tidal flats were just flooding as the tide came in again. The sprats shot across the surface, and soon, the bigger species like sheepshead, snook, and sea trout would follow them in as the water deepened. He might even snag a lemon shark, which always made for a good tale back home.

He had his net at his waist, and even though the water came to just above his knees, he felt now that the sun was coming up he could probably work his way a little closer to the channel.

Gil knew he could stick to fishing shallow and was sure to pick up a flounder or two, but he thought they were a bastard to eat — every time he flipped one over on his plate, he ended up with a shirt front covered in lemon and butter. Tasty though.

Gil blinked as the lights went out and he looked over his shoulder but there was nothing at all around him as if he had been dropped into the depths of space. Just as he turned his face to the sky, everything came back to normal.

“Well.” He snorted softly. “Don’t tell my doctor.”

He reeled his line in, walked further out toward the deep channel, and recast. He had a good-sized bit of fish bait on a razor hook, and he kept his fingers lightly on the line, sensitive to every tap, bump, and tiniest of vibrations — after many years of fishing, by feel alone, Gil could tell the difference between the sea bottom, weed, and a fish nibble — and most times, he could even tell what sort of fish was doing the nibbling.

The line suddenly got heavy. “Whoa there.”

Gil reeled in, but the line stopped dead. “What the hell?” He clicked his tongue in his cheek at the thought of maybe getting himself hooked up on a snag — sunken log probably. There’d been some rain a few weeks back, and maybe something washed down the river and was stuck on the bottom.

He tugged again and took a few steps closer to the channel drop off. He continued to reel, and thankfully, the line started to slowly come up. But there was still weight on it. He knew what a shark or big ray felt like, and it was similar to this — dead weight.

But at least it was still coming, so that was a good thing. He reeled in more line and tried to calculate how much he'd reeled back in verse how much line was still down in the depths. As Gil reeled in, he stared into the water, looking for ‘color’ as they called it, the first glimpse of a catch, to get an idea of what exactly he had on his line.

He squinted. Gradually, something was taking shape from the darker water. “Big ray, maybe.” He kept reeling, drawing it toward him. When it was about a dozen feet out and coming up the side of the channel into shallow water, he suddenly realized, and then remembered with a dawning horror, what it could be.

“Shit.” He dropped his expensive Shimano rod and turned to run.

The pool-table-sized creature came up from the depths and into the shallows. It was sandy pale, and two fist-sized bulb-eyes popped up from the water to regard the fleeing man.

The emperor crab was one of the biggest crab species to have ever existed, and it had been known to attack dogs, livestock, and even people who were stupid enough to wander close to river mouths at dawn or dusk.

Gil splashed hard, throwing up waves, his bulky trout fishing pants catching some of the surge and beginning to fill with seawater. Unfortunately, he was 55, out of condition, and tiring fast.

The crab never slowed for a second, and as the water shallowed, it lifted up on pointed, stilt-like legs and accelerated. In the next instant, one of its four-foot-long claws reached out to take him by the neck. Gil screamed, but no one heard, and in another flash of returning memory, he knew why.

Don’t fish at dawn or dusk.

Why didn’t he remember that before and why didn’t he remember about the emperor crabs?

The crab was now holding its prize in close to itself, like a footballer holds the ball, and it immediately set about returning to the deep water.

Gil didn’t even bother fighting the grip, as it would have been like trying to combat an industrial press. As the crab went over the lip of the sandbank and back into the channel, Gil had one final wish: I hope I drown first.

CHAPTER 30

The water splashing his face brought him to abrupt wakefulness.

“Gluck, gluck: Andy, wake up, wake up!”

“Huh.” Andy blinked a pleasant dream away where he was in warm, dry clothing, and sitting down to dinner as a Thanksgiving turkey the size of a small car was placed on the table.

It vanished, and he wasn’t dry, or in nice clothes, but instead was starving, near naked, and cold.

“What?”

“Bad things, bad things coming.” He felt the sharp talons of his little friend on his thigh.

“Uh, was dreaming.” Depressingly, he was back on his floating log. He put a reassuring hand down on Gluck’s shivering back. “It’s okay, buddy, just dozed off for a minute, or… ”

But as Andy sat up, he knew why the small creature was agitated. The wind was up and dark clouds raced across the sky. Added to that, the temperature had dropped 10 degrees. Waves now lapped the side of his log, and from time to time, the huge tree lurched in the water.

There was no doubt that a storm was bearing down on them — that was the bad news. The good news was the wind came from the west and it was blowing him toward the shoreline.

“Jesus, how long was I asleep?”

Andy looked up at the clouds billowing up from that direction. They were dark, ominous, and held flecks of lightning within them. He then turned to the distant shoreline. Would he be beached, or swamped by the storm before then?

Who will win? he wondered aloud.

Another wave and more spray whipped across them. Gluck raised its bony wings, one opening wide and the other deformed one, just only lifting from its body. It held its balance, but it skidded.

“Whoops. Hang in there, little buddy.” He reached down and scooped him up. “Better you go back in here where I can keep an eye on you.”

Andy popped him in the near empty bag. There was no food or water left now. So something had to change one way or the other.

The tree lurched as a larger wave rocked it. Andy knew that when the storm was fully upon them, he could expect them to be rolled over and he’d be going in.

Slowly but surely, the tree was being washed and wind-pushed toward the shoreline, and Andy squinted into the salt spray. He was way too far out to leave his tree now, but on the coastline, he began to make out landmarks — in the distance was what could have been a single tall tree at the waterline, and all of its branches looked to have been wind-blasted off from one side.

“You’re kidding me; that’s where our boat is.” He grinned. “We made it.”

Andy looked about and then toward the shore — he was still about 300 feet from the land.

“Damn, might as well be on another planet,” he cursed and wished he had something to throw. He also wished he could look below the water and see if his deadly shadow was still there.

The weather was growing darker, but between him and the shore, a few of the medium-sized pterosaurs still dive-bombed the water’s surface and snatched up 20-pound silver torpedoes in their beak. It made his empty stomach rumble.

In another 10 minutes, he guessed they’d pass through the school of fish. Maybe the baitfish might leave some debris on the surface — a fresh fish scrap was better than nothing.

He waited and shivered slightly. With little clothing and no shelter, it wouldn’t take long for him to suffer from exposure. Finding shelter had always been his number one priority, and now he was caught out in the open.

As they approached the school of fish that had now moved closer to be only about a few dozen feet to his side, he saw he was still about 200 feet from the shore. But waves now rocked the trunk so much; it bobbed and some even crashed over its surface. However, he was still moving, and for the first time, he felt a glimmer of hope that his tree might wash up before it was tipped by the storm.

And then he felt the first sensation of grinding.

Andy frowned, not understanding what was happening until he caught a glimpse of weed about 20 to 30 feet down.

“Ah, shit no; the bottom.”

The grinding continued and then the tree slowed and stopped, its lower branches catching fast on the sea bottom. He looked up — still about 150 feet of open water.

“Well, I’m screwed.”

Silver torpedoes shot past his perch on the trunk, and only about 30 feet away, a pterosaur dived to snatch one of the fish from the surface. Up close, he could see these pterosaurs were a fair size and probably stood about four feet in height.

Another came in, grabbed a huge fish, and went to wheel away. However, this time, it never made it. From below the surface, a massive grey beast shot upward, its three-foot-wide head catching the body of the flying reptile and with the sound of crunching bones, dragged it back below the surface.

That could have been me, he thought.

Andy’s dark shadow was there; it had always been there, waiting for him, or for anything else.

But for now, it was busy.

To the beach or die trying, he thought madly and dived in.

The water was still bath-warm, but he felt the chill of death all around him. Andy was no great swimmer, but he powered on, one arm over the other. He kept his eyes tightly shut. He didn’t want to see any visions of hell rising up to snatch him from the surface and crunch his bones like sticks, like what happened to the flying reptile.

A wave washed over him, causing him to scream and gulp seawater. He spluttered, and then there came a surge of water from underneath him. He shut his eyes tighter, his lungs burning and his testicles shriveling from fear, but he kept thrashing onward.

I’ve done this before, I can do it again, I can do it again, I can do it again. He tried to think of nothing else but this mantra.

The bag at his side was wallowing open like a parachute as he’d forgotten to tie it closed this time, and it was slowing him down. But he fought on.

Then something touched his hand. He screamed bubbles and yanked it away and stopped to lift his head, but when he changed angles, his feet touched the bottom.

Andy didn’t stop for a second and started to run faster as the water became shallower. His feet sunk in the silt, but he powered on with the last remaining atoms of energy and adrenaline he had left in his body.

When he thought he was far enough up the beach, he spun back — save for his massive tree stuck further out, there was nothing.

He cupped his hands to his mouth. “You lose, asshole.” He laughed a little madly. “Brains over brawn.”

But then he suddenly remembered that if he found his little boat he had hidden, he’d need to sail right back out of this very estuary mouth.

“Hey, sorry about that asshole bit, okay?” He grinned as he sunk down to sit. “Let’s just call it even and we all go home happy.”

He sucked in deep breaths, feeling like he was 100 years old. Over his shoulder, his bag still leaked water.

He panicked. “Oh no. Oh, please no.” He snatched it up and ripped it open.

“Gluck.” The tiny reptile shook off some water and stared up at him.

Andy started to cry.

CHAPTER 31

Emma paced, waiting on the call from Ben. She knew from his timetable that they should have arrived down in the Amazon by now. This was their last chance to speak together as Ben would soon be entering the blackout zone, and then it was up to their skill, experience, Andy, and a truckload of good luck.

She tried not to think about what would happen if Ben didn’t return from the Amazon. She stood at the window looking out over their estate, still not believing what she was seeing. She knew for sure now the walls were closing in on them.

A while ago, there had been another blackout, this one longer, and then when it was over, everything had changed. Since the first time that they’d noticed time-alterations, she had been doing some hurried research on theoretical changes that could come about due to variations in an evolutionary timeline.

Many of the theorists subscribed to the idea of flora and fauna changes, but also significant environmental changes that could alter entire landscapes. And the experts had history on their side as proof of their theories.

Right here in America, about 15,000 years ago when the mega fauna started to die out, it resulted in significant terrain changes. The massive creatures such as mammoths, mastodons, camels, horses, ground sloths, and giant beavers terraformed their environments. When their populations crashed, a landscape that was once like Africa’s Serengeti plains, with countless herds of great beasts, were suddenly changed forever.

Species of broadleaved trees that had been kept in check by huge numbers of big herbivores suddenly began to grow unchecked and quickly dominated the landscape. Soon after, the accumulation of dropped branches, drying leaf mass, and general plant debris saw a dramatic increase in the number of wildfires, which also recast the landscapes, and the species, plants and animals, living on it.

With some plains turning to forests, erosion was slowed, topsoil retained, river courses altered, and with it the entire land reshaped.

Emma felt a tear run down her cheek as she looked out over the countryside that was once lush American forests of Alder, Blue Ash, and Quaking Aspen. Now there were endless miles of dry plains of brown grass and here and there a few lumps of hills with the occasional scrubby-looking tree.

Dust clouds rose from the hooves of the herds. Creatures that could have been deer but had a single horn in the center of their foreheads and also a rough of fur at their throats like that on a lion.

“Zach,” she called.

“Yeah?”

She half turned. “Can you come down here, please?”

There was a groan from upstairs and then came the rumble of feet on steps. Zach appeared beside her at the window and jammed his hands in his jeans pockets. He looked out for a moment and then up at her. “What’s up?”

Emma pointed. “Those animals, what are they?”

Zach frowned up at her as though she was a simpleton. After a moment, he rolled his eyes. “Unicorns, of course.”

“Unicorns?” She looked down at him, as if searching for the joke.

“Yeah, why?” He waited for another few seconds. “Anything else?”

She snorted softly as she looked out over the herds of beasts that numbered in the thousands. The landscape was flatter, beaten down, as the exposed ground was nibbled down and churned up from countless hooves to then be blown away in the next dust storm.

“Unicorns; guess they made it on the Ark after all in this version of the world.” She sighed.

Zach shrugged and zoomed back up the steps.

Her phone rang and she snatched it up, saw the caller ID, and quickly jammed it to her ear.

“I miss you already.”

The line was weak, but just the sound of Ben’s voice calmed her. “And I you.” She smiled as she spoke. “I wish I was there.”

There was a pause for a few seconds. “No, I’m glad you’re not,” he replied softly, and then: “How’s Zach?”

“He’s fine, bored, and thinking I’m losing my mind.” And I probably am, she thought.

“And how are you?” There was a grin in his voice, and she bet he could read her mind.

“Good,” she lied. “But… ”

“Yes?” He waited.

“Everything is different. The animals, the people, and now even the land is changing.” She looked out the window. “We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.” She smiled weakly.

“I know, but we’re nearly to the plateau. Stay in the house, and keep an eye on Zach. I want you both safe and sound and waiting for me when I get home.” Ben sighed long and slow. “Hey, want to know something weird: we lost one of our people.”

“Oh no, how?” she asked. “Was it bad?”

“No, I mean, we lost-lost one of our people — one minute they were there, and the next — poof — just, gone.”

“I don’t understand. You’re not even at the plateau yet.” She felt her stomach flip.

“No, no, they, she, just vanished. Only Drake, Helen, and I noticed. Weird thing was, the other guys said she never existed in the first place.” He chuckled but there was nervousness in it. “Helen said it was like evolution just took them back.”

“Evolution took them back.” She felt a little dizzy. “It’s finally reached us, us humans, I mean, hasn’t it? And it seems to be speeding up,” Emma said. “I’m scared. I want to scream, fight back, but against who or what?”

“We’ll fix it,” Ben said confidently.

“But what if the changes that Andy made were already done and bringing him back won’t make any difference at all? We might not be here when you get back.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t even think like that,” Ben insisted.

“The world could be destroyed,” she said. “And only we’ll know it.”

“No, it won’t be destroyed,” he said softly. “But maybe a new version of the world might be made.” He sounded like he shifted, and the connection began to crackle. “I’ve got to go, but stay positive, please. We can’t undo what’s already been done. But we can certainly stop anything else happening. That’s all we got right now.”

“I know,” she said and looked out again at the dry plains of their estate. “Ben… ” she began.

“Yeah, Emm, I’m here,” he said softly.

“Be careful down there. That jungle you knew before is now probably very different to the one you’re entering. Who knows what lives in there now.”

“I know, and I will, I promise. Stay positive; I’ll be back in a week… all of us will.”

He already sounded far away as he signed off.

CHAPTER 32

Nicolás Manduro paused as the light flicked on and off, like something had been thrown over the sun for a second or two. It passed as quickly as it came and he adjusted his backpack, grabbing a tree trunk to momentarily steady himself.

He had trekked now for many days, and although he had ventured into the jungle before, he had never ever been into the dark region he was now at.

Being a native Venezuelan, his father and grandfather had taught him to hunt, fish, and survive off the land, and it served him well now, mainly by being able to reduce the amount of supplies he needed to bring. Still, his pack sagged with the weight of the meteorological equipment he had brought with him.

He was determined to be at the plateau when the strange weather effects took place. He wanted to see for himself what the meteorological department’s electronics’ eyes and ears could not. He desperately wanted to know what actually caused their ‘eyes in the sky’ to become whited-out when trying to see down into that hidden tepui. And what the strange images were that looked like giant bat-like birds in the clouds he had seen exactly 10 years ago.

He had heard the legends of the monsters from the Amazon jungle that came down to claim the souls of the people once every half generation. He didn’t believe any of them, but he did believe something strange was going on in there. His suspicion was that somehow the phenomena of the wettest season and the comet Primordia approaching were linked. He didn’t know how, but right now, he believed in that more than it being something supernatural rising from the jungle.

He was only a day out now, and the ground was becoming mushy beneath his feet. There would be a waterway close by. He also knew that water and jungles meant insects, parasites, and in most cases, predators who came to drink or lie in ambush, waiting for prey animals to drink.

The only weapons he had brought with him were his hunting knives and his wits. He suddenly regretted not taking his father’s old rifle.

Nicolás plodded on, and though the raucous sounds of the jungle masked his movements, he doubted they were hidden from any predators because his sounds were unnatural — two-legged creatures like him just didn’t belong here.

After a moment, the buzzing, clicking, and humming of bugs, the scream of birds, plus the rustling of leaf litter all fell away. He stood in near silence in an open space about 10 feet square. It was only noon, but the heavy jungle canopy overhead made it seem like twilight.

Sweat streamed down his face, and the salty residue was attractive to all manner of flying things even though he had lathered repellent on himself and continued to do so every few hours. He knew it usually worked to keep the insects at bay, but it also advertised him blundering through the jungle inside a chemical cloud, probably 100 feet wide.

Nicolás stood quietly, turning his head slowly. He even made his breathing shallow and strained to hear anything approaching. He sensed danger, and the other creatures of the jungle did too. It could be anything — a jaguar, anaconda, or something else entirely. He eased in close to a tree trunk, keeping it at his back, that way he only had to worry about three sides, and if something did attack, he might have a chance of repelling it.

He had the urge to run but stood his ground. One thing was for sure: predators in a jungle were much better at chasing something down than he would be at fleeing.

Come on, he breathed. Show yourself.

The hairs on his body lifted and his scalp tingled from tension. He was being watched, he knew it, and he could feel his heart beating in his chest.

He was first grabbed around the neck. Whatever it was, it was fast and very quickly also wrapped around his forehead, and then he felt it sliding around his waist. The pressure was enormous, and with it came a stink that enveloped him and made his eyes water.

Nicolás yelled in surprise and fear and grabbed at the thing, feeling what seemed to be a thick snake, but instead of the dry scale feeling he expected, it was slick, slimy, and his hands slid away and were coated in a jelly-like mucus.

His eyes streamed from the chemicals, and then the pressure increased on his head and waist, and he felt himself begin to be lifted off his feet. He panicked then, punching at it, tearing and scrabbling, but he couldn’t get a grip on the revolting thing.

“Help.”

He thrashed some more, kicking his legs as he began to be lifted higher into the tree canopy.

“Help!”

He tried to grip the tree trunk with his legs to stop being lifted, but the thing that held him was far more powerful than he was.

Nicolás began to panic, becoming scared out of his wits at the thought of what would happen when the thing or things finally had him up and into the dense tree.

His eyes streamed and his breath was beginning to be cut off. He had seconds left.

“He-eeelp!”

“Did you hear that?” Drake frowned and turned to Ben, but kept his head tilted, listening.

“Yeah, yeah, I did.” Ben held up a hand, stopping the group.

“What is it?” Helen asked.

Chess and Francis hefted their guns; Shawna and Buster turned their backs on them, covering their rear.

“That was a voice,” Chess said. “Up ahead; sounds like trouble.”

“Yup.” Ben nodded. “Let’s go; low and quiet.”

He and Drake led them out, Chess and Francis right behind, and then Helen, Shawna, and Buster.

Ben burrowed through the wall-thick jungle, making too much noise but not being able to help it. He’d been in far too many jungles now to know the signs of a predator — all around them the rest of the jungle held its breath and just watched.

He also knew from experience there was the pause during the stalking, and then the attack, and just like now, the sounds of the final death struggle. Often it attracted other predators and scavengers. If it was someone in trouble, Ben needed to be quick.

Ben was first into the small clearing and the group piled in fast, spreading left and right. Ben saw the pack on the ground and breathed in the stink.

“What the…?”

“Holy shit.” Drake pointed the muzzle of his gun. “Look!”

About 10 feet up from the ground, someone struggled furiously. They were held aloft by something wrapped around his neck and waist, but it was what the things were attached to that made the hair on Ben’s neck stand on end.

“Oh my God.”

“Monktopus; bad news.” Chess lifted his gun but couldn’t fire. “No shot, no shot.”

The thing was holding the man in front of it, but Ben could sort of make it out. It was a huge greenish-gray bag, five feet across and sprouting short, muscular tentacles. At the end of each limb, they formed a type of fork, like a two-fingered hand or two-toed foot. The worst thing was the large lidless eyes that were way too intelligent.

“A what?” Drake said, trying to angle his gun.

The snared man’s face was turning purple and his tongue began to protrude. Even though the eyes bulged, they were panicked, and he was well on his way to being suffocated.

Ben lifted his gun and aimed — the thing seemed to know to use the guy’s body as a shield, and it waved the choking man back and forth in front of it.

And then it moved him a few inches too far one way and Ben fired. The shot took a fist-sized chunk of meat from the bag-like head, and blue blood splashed the surrounding foliage.

It screamed.

“Shit.” Drake took a step back.

It was an unnatural hellish sound like nails on a blackboard that made Ben grit his teeth. It threw the man at them and raised its tentacles, opening them like a flower and revealing a parrot-like beak underneath that was as long as his forearm. It snapped at him, angrily, and Ben fired three more times, hitting it again but only once.

Bizarrely, it swung away, as nimbly as an arboreal creature, and in seconds, it was gone. Monktopus, Chess had called it — a monkey-octopus.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Drake said, and his mouth stayed hung open. “What the hell was that?”

Ben turned. “Helen, could that have come from…?”

“The plateau?” She shook her head. “No way. Besides, the doorway isn’t even open yet. Nothing like that ever existed in the fossil record, or on any branch of evolution.” She snorted. “It was an octopus, for God’s sake.”

“Like I said, a Monktopus,” Chess said casually. “I thought you said you’d been in the Amazon before.”

“Many times,” said Ben.

“Me too,” Drake added. “And never seen anything like that.”

“They’re rare, but inhabit the darker areas of the jungle, and usually close to a water source. That’s where they lay their eggs,” Francis said and shrugged huge shoulders. “That looked to be an 8 to10-footer, but they can get even bigger.”

Ben turned to Helen. “They left the water.”

She nodded slowly, but her eyes were now scanning the treetops. “Theorists always speculated they would. They’re intelligent, strong, and adaptive.” She turned. “The theorists also speculated that if mankind didn’t exist, then cephalopods might one day rule the world.”

“All hail our new multi-armed overlords.” Chess turned and guffawed at Shawna.

A cough from the brush brought their heads around, and Shawna crossed to the Monktopus victim and stood over him. “Hey, whatta you know, he’s still alive.”

He coughed again and sat up rubbing his neck, but with his eyes screwed shut. He grimaced. “My eyes.”

“Yep, that’d be the ammonia; stings like a bitch, dunnit?” Chess said. “The damn monks are covered in it. Stops them drying out when they’re on land.” Chess clicked his fingers at Shawna. “Flush it out or he’ll be blind for days.”

Shawna tilted his head back and lifted her canteen over his face. “Shut your eyes, honey.” She first used her sweat rag to wipe his face off. “Now open them.” She then let water trickle over his eyes. She wiped them again. “Better?”

He continued to blink as he nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”

Ben went and stood in front of him. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

“Nicolás Manduro… ” He coughed again and held out a hand. Shawna tugged him up. “Thank you again.” He turned to Ben. “I work for the Venezuelan National Institute of Meteorological Services.”

“You’re a meteorologist? What the hell are you doing all the way out here?” Drake craned his neck forward. “Are you insane?”

“Probably.” The young man grinned apologetically. “I forgot about the Monktopus. I don’t know why I forgot.” He sighed. “I came to investigate the source of the wettest season anomaly.”

“Great,” Ben said and exhaled. “Just great.” He immediately knew he was going to get stuck with the guy.

“The wettest what?” Shawna guffawed. “That sounds like one of your porn tapes, Chess.”

Chess brayed. “Private viewings only these days, babe.” They both continued to laugh.

“That’s enough,” Ben said. He faced Nicolás. “What are, were, you planning to do?”

Nicolás began to grin. “You’re going there too, aren’t you?”

“I asked you a question.” Ben gave him the ‘glare’ and the young man’s smile dropped.

“I plan to scale as high as I can on the plateau and plant some measuring equipment.” He frowned. “We can’t see it from a distance; it shuts out all our sensors. Need to be closer, I guess.” He frowned. “I think there’s something strange going on up there.”

“Yeah, din-o-sewers, according to these jokers.” Chess’ grin widened.

“You shouldn’t climb the plateau,” Drake said and glanced at Helen and then back at the meteorologist. “It’s too dangerous.”

“How do you know?” Nicolás’ eyes narrowed. “You’ve been there before, haven’t you?” He stepped forward. “I’ve seen something. Last time, 10 years ago, I saw a balloon entering, and then, I think—” He shook his head and then grabbed Ben’s arm, “—no, I know, it was attacked by something big. Like a giant bat, but as large as an airplane.”

“Ah, fuck.” Ben looked heavenward.

“You do know something,” Nicolás pressed.

“Yeah, we do. That was us in that balloon,” Drake said.

Chess, Francis, and Shawna became silent.

Ben turned to the man. “We lost a lot of people. Only a few of us made it out alive. And three of those four are right here. Believe me when I tell you it’s dangerous up there — deadly dangerous. You don’t want to go there. There’s more than just weird weather up there.”

Helen nodded. “He’s right, Nicolás. Maybe you can take your measurements from the base.”

“That is not possible.” Nicolás’ expression hardened. “If you’re going up there, then I’m going up there.”

“Nicolás,” Ben said. “The weather is not the anomaly. The weather is only a secondary effect from a magnetic comet that’s passing overhead.”

“I knew it.” He clapped his hands together. “A magnetic astral anomaly; it makes perfect sense.” Nicolás straightened to his full height of about five feet eight inches.

“It does?” Shawna frowned.

“Yes,” Nicolás replied enthusiastically. “Correlation between changes in amplitude of geomagnetic variations of external origin could account for the significant but temporary, weather fluctuations.”

“That was English, right?” Shawna looked impressed.

Nicolás nodded. “But I need to be up there for verification.”

Chess snorted. “Buddy, you nearly got killed down here. If only half of what these guys say is true, your life expectancy will be about five minutes from setting foot up there. Here’s some advice: fuck off home.”

“I’m going,” Nicolás said. “With you or without you.” He paused. “But, preferably with you.” He grinned sheepishly.

Shawna shrugged. “Aw, let the kid come with us. It’s his life.”

“Gets my vote.” Buster’s mouth twisted. “Shit goes down, my money is on him buying it first, rather than one of us.”

Ben went and picked up Nicolás’ pack. It was heavy. He tossed it to him. “How were you going to climb up a cliff face about 1,500 feet with that on your back?”

Nicolás pulled the backpack on. “I’ve got a power winch.”

Drake chuckled. “Of course he has.”

“He’s not coming.” Chess’ eyes were half-lidded as he cradled his gun. “He’ll slow us down, ghost us, and get us all killed.”

Nicolás shrugged. “With or without you.”

Drake exhaled. “He’s more likely to get killed by himself, that’s for sure. At least with us we can keep him under control.”

“No,” Chess said and lifted his chin to Ben. “Unless you throw in another hundred grand… each.”

All eyes swung to Ben. Frankly, Ben couldn’t give a shit whether the kid came with them or not. But now that Chess had made it a chest-bumping issue, he decided to play.

Ben’s gaze was deadpan. “He comes, and if anyone tries to screw the deal we made, you can head home. Now.” He grinned like a death’s head. “And when you get home, you’ll find your sign-on fee has been reversed out of your bank account, for being an asshole.”

The group’s gaze now swung to Chess. The big mercenary’s jaw worked for a moment before he broke into a grin. “Who gives a fuck?”

He turned away, but Ben caught the lethal glare he threw him. He hoped he wasn’t going to be trouble.

“Okay?” Nicolás asked.

“All okay,” Shawna said.

Ben shook his head. “Well, you’ve been warned, but like she said… ” He thumbed over his shoulder at Shawna. “It’s your life.” He turned to the female mercenary. “And you own him seeing as it was your idea.”

Nicolás nodded. “Thank you.”

“Come on.” Ben checked his watch and then looked upward. Huge drops of blood-warm rain began to fall. “We’ve got about eight hours to get to the plateau base and then climb to the top. And our one-night stand is fast approaching.”

CHAPTER 33

Comet P/2018-YG874, designate name Primordia, hurtled through the solar system on its approach toward the Earth. The magnetic bow wave that preceded it caused collisions between electrically charged particles in the planet’s upper atmosphere, creating an aurora borealis effect over the jungles of South America.

In one of the most inaccessible parts of the eastern Venezuelan jungle, clouds began to darken, and in another minute or two, they started to swirl and boil like in a devil’s cauldron, throwing down a torrent of warm rain.

Beneath the clouds, a gigantic tabletop mountain became cloaked in the dense fog, and brutal winds began to smash at its sides and surface. Thunder roared and lightning seemed to come from the sky, air, and even up from the ground itself.

The echoes of roars from throats not heard for many millions of years began to ring out that even drowned out the crash of thunder. Soon, those few roars would become a cacophony of hissing, howls, bellows, and screams, rising to be like those from the dark pits of Hell.

It had been 10 years since the last wettest season and it had arrived again, and with it came the primordial sounds of a world not seen for 100 million years.

CHAPTER 34

Andy rubbed his eyes. He and Gluck had been on the sea for many days now, and he was taking advantage of a breeze at his back and making good time. But a few times, he had ventured so far out that he had begun to lose sight of the land.

His navigation skills were good, and he could get his bearings from the sun, moon, and stars, but if he lost touch with the shoreline and clouds moved in, he could be lost.

His supplies were running low, and he blinked crusty eyes and licked flaking lips. The sea was misty, blurring his vision even more, and only after many minutes did it become clear that it really was an island in the distance.

He had been becalmed for the last few hours and his sail hung limply so he had to rely on the tide and currents to move him along. He guessed he was getting closer to his destination, as the heat was once again tropical. So far, he had been conserving his energy, but now with a goal in sight, he began to gently paddle toward the land.

He knew that the water he passed over here was deep and a bottomless dark blue, so he needed to make as little noise as he could manage. He dipped the makeshift oar in and dragged it all the way back along his boat. Carefully, he lifted it and did the same on the other side.

In another hour, he was closing in on the landmass, and the sea bottom suddenly began to shallow quickly, telling him that the island might have been the tip of an extinct volcano, or even the last in line of a sunken mountain range.

He gently pulled the boat forward and in another hour, he was close enough to see that the island was covered in vegetation, but he hoped small and far enough from the mainland to not support a population of large carnivores. Or better yet, any carnivores at all.

He soon made it to the outer reef, and then waited in his boat and just watched. He could see plenty of small sea pterosaurs just like Gluck, and his small friend seemed to become excited and answered their strange clucking and clicking with his own songs of the sky and sea.

Andy guessed the island was only about a mile around and had breakwaters circling it, creating small pools in close rather than sandy beaches, some small and some larger than swimming pools. The flora to the center of the island were mainly upright trees with few branches on the trunks that had initially looked like palm trees from a distance but were more likely a form of spiky cycad on a large fibrous stem that grew 40 feet in the air. Fast-growing palms and ferns made up the rest of the ground cover.

The more he watched, the more he became convinced there was nothing living on the island but the flying reptiles.

“Just like New Zealand,” he whispered.

Andy had visited the island nation off the east coast of Australia once on holiday, and he found it an amazing Petri dish for scientists due to it being an entire biosphere built around one animal form — birds. When it had broken away from Gondwanaland some 400 million years ago, much of it sank, but then several hundred million years later, it was finally pushed back to the surface. But following the mass extinction that ended the age of the dinosaurs, the new rulers came from the sky.

There were the predators and prey, from the herbivores such as giant Moa that stood 12 feet tall, plus a dozen other species of giant parrot, ground dwellers such as the kiwi with fur-like feathers, long-legged wading birds, and also fearsome raptors, such as the Haast, the largest eagle to have ever existed on the planet and weighed in at well over 500 pounds. They could have easily carried off a full-grown man if they had survived.

But thankfully, the tiny island Andy watched seemed home to little more than nesting pterosaurs no larger than seagulls.

“I think it’s safe,” he whispered and pushed a still-excited Gluck down into the bottom of the boat.

Andy carefully guided his vessel in through rocky corridors of the outer reef, and soon entered calm water that was warm, crystal clear, and only a few feet deep. The first thing he noticed was that the inner pools were teeming with fish, probably trapped by the tides, and he grinned, knowing that food wasn’t going to be the problem here.

He pulled his boat up on the rocks. In one hand, he held his spear, while he pulled out his empty water bottles for refilling with the other. He also drew his bag onto his shoulder to carry Gluck to the shore.

“Let’s explore.”

He put Gluck down and his little friend waddled after him as he crossed the tide-line. Andy noted where the surf had come to, and he surmised that it was close to high tide right now, so his boat drifting away wasn’t going to be a problem. Also, the reef barrier should keep out anything larger than a salmon-sized fish, so the large marine predators shouldn’t bother him. Though he knew that the sea crocodiles could cross the reef if they wanted to, it was far too shallow for them to conceal themselves.

He entered the thicket and immediately encountered the pterosaur nesting sites. In among the squabbling and furiously scolding flying reptiles, he managed to steal several eggs without losing too much skin from his hands. He did have to rescue Gluck who obviously seemed to think of himself as part of Andy’s gang or flock now and went to attack several of the creatures that tried to peck at his big friend.

The one thing that Andy noticed was that the nesting sites weren’t built upon one another as he expected from a species coming to the same area over and over. He started to have an inkling of why there were no other terrestrial animals living here.

His next discovery confirmed his suspicions.

Toward the center of the island, piled up against two stout-looking tree trunks, were the remains of a huge animal. Great curving ribs rose high above his head, each as thick as his thigh. A massive skull, 10 feet long, lay on the sandy soil, and on its surface were patches of sun-dried leathery skin.

He saw that it had no arms and legs, but the remains of flippers. Andy went and ran a hand along the skull, and then exhaled.

“You didn’t crawl in here, did you?”

He looked around, seeing everything with a clearer eye — this was why the pterosaur nests only looked to be a dozen or so years old, and not hundreds: a huge wave had deposited the massive sea beast’s carcass here. More than likely, the area was subjected to huge storms and might be totally submerged from time to time. If Andy were caught here during one, then not being able to fly away like the pterosaurs meant he’d be drowned.

“Short visit only then, I guess.”

Andy crossed back to the rocky beach. It was already late when he arrived, and he decided he had time to wade out and grab some fish, shells, or anything else he could catch for dinner. Accommodation was easy, as he had learned that sometimes simply turning his boat over and sleeping underneath was the safest option and cut off his sounds and smells from interested predators.

He waded out into the bath-warm water and as he went, he grabbed one of the pterosaur eggs from his bag, put it to his mouth, and used his teeth to bite through the leathery covering. He ripped it away and sucked most of the fluid out. It was fishy tasting, rich, and oily. If he was back in his own time, his stomach might have rebelled at the strong flavors, but he had trained himself to eat all manner of things to survive, and hunger meant any food was good food.

The contents also contained the beginning of a small pterosaur, and rather than eat this, he lowered it into the bag for Gluck to greedily gobble down.

“You know that’s cannibalism, right?” He grinned and then tossed the shell fragments into the water before him where they created a milky cloud as their remaining fluid leaked out.

Fish almost immediately began to dart through it. On the bottom were numerous almost perfectly circular rocks or growths that looked like flat plates about a foot around or perhaps were some sort of scallop, and as Andy lifted his spear over the silver torpedoes, one of the discs opened and something that looked like a stubby, sandy-colored eel shot out.

“Holy shit.” He backed up, but then swung his arms, not wanting to set foot on any of the discs behind him.

The thing had been all mouth and teeth, and had grabbed one of the fish and drew back into its lair with an amazing speed. It seemed to be some sort of stonefish species, but obviously something that never made it into the fossil record.

As Andy watched, more and more of the jack-in-a-box ambushes took place due to the feeding frenzy he had created. The ambush-eels didn’t seem that large, more double-football sized, but looked more frightening than they were due to their front half being all mouth that was full of needle teeth.

Thankfully, big two-legged land creatures weren’t that interesting to them, and as he backed up to the shore, he still managed to spear a few fish on the way. It looked like there was going to be plenty for everyone.

That evening after he and Gluck had eaten their fill, he sat close to the shoreline with his back against a tree and looked up at the night sky. The stars were enormously bright, and the moon so close he felt he could almost reach out and touch it. In fact, it really was closer, and the constellations of stars were very different at this time.

Andy inhaled, drawing in the warm scents of the ocean, dry beach, plants, and even the fishy odor of the pterosaur nests. The flying reptiles had quietened down for the night and there was just the soft shushing of the surf out against the far reef. The evening’s warmth, combined with the isolation of his little island, made him feel safer than he had in years.

“I love everything about this place.” He smiled contentedly as Gluck climbed up onto his lap and nestled down. “Helen will too.”

He stroked the pterosaur, and it made a small noise like cooing. Andy sighed and felt a little down knowing he had to set off again next morning. But they weren’t far from home now, and the thought of seeing his sister again rallied his spirits.

“Yeah, she’ll love this place as much as I do. I know she will.” Andy leaned his head back against the tree and began to doze.

CHAPTER 35

“There it is.” Ben held up a hand and stopped the group.

The rain fell in large drops that felt like warm oil but its curtains still couldn’t hide the sight that met their eyes.

Through the mad tangle of green vines and creepers, there was the outline of the monolithic plateau’s cliff wall, rising to vanish into the dark clouds over 1,000 feet above it.

“We made it.” Nicolás tried to push past him but Ben grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back.

Nicolás shrugged him free. “The abnormal effects — the clouds, wind, and rain, all just over the plateau, exactly as we thought.” He turned. “Technically, I know how this happens. But physically seeing it, I still can’t believe it.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Helen said from Drake’s shoulder.

An eerie bellow rang out, followed by an unearthly shriek that was suddenly cut off. The group looked from one to the other and finally Nicolás swallowed hard and spoke.

“What… was that?”

“A doorway to Hell beginning to open.” Ben continued to stare up at the plateau.

“We told you.” Drake turned to Nicolás. “It’s not just the weather that gets all screwy.”

“Whoa.” Nicolás blew air between his lips.

Ben checked his watch. The rubberized analog-casing watch still worked as he hoped. “Okay, we’ve got four hours until Primordia is right over us and the doorway opens. An hour’s trek, give or take, until we’re at its base where we’ll make camp and grab a last coffee. Then I estimate another hour to make it to the summit using the winches. That should put us right on the money.”

Ben had pulled free a small pair of binoculars and scanned the jungle ahead. “We can’t be there too soon, and need to time it so we are right there when the anomaly is underway — from then, we’ll have about 20 hours to find Andy.”

He glanced at Helen. “And bring him back.”

Another scream boomed out from overhead but was lost amid a rolling peal of thunder.

“Shit, a doorway to Hell, you said?” Shawna looked up toward the top of the plateau where the purple-black clouds were spinning like the center of a small hurricane.

“Consider it an echo,” Ben said. “From a long, long time ago.” He turned to her. “What, you thought I was making it all up?”

Shawna hiked her shoulders and then turned back to the plateau.

“Okay, let’s go.” Ben led them on.

The ground now sloped upward, and the jungle opened out a little. The trees began to look more alien, exactly as Ben remembered — possibly hybridized from the seed drift from above, or for all he knew now, entire new species that had evolved through their messing around in the past.

Several more times, the light had blinked out, and each time it stayed dark for a little longer. After one of the times, Chess had yanked him harshly back, and Ben spun to find the lead mercenary putting a finger to his lips and then pointing to a place just up ahead of them.

“Cryptis,” he whispered. “Bad news.”

What? Ben mouthed as Drake and Helen bunched up behind him. He spotted movement and squinted to see through the falling rain. Some sort of creature fossicked on the ground, sinuous and many-legged. It was covered in chitinous scales, and looked like a three-foot centipede, but had long back legs like a grasshopper. But it was out front that the nightmare really began — pincers longer than his fingers and blood red.

“Poisonous,” Chess said softly. “And very fucking aggressive.” He tugged on Ben again. “And there’s usually more in the nest. We go around.”

Ben nodded and backed up, thankful the falling rain was masking their retreat.

After another half hour, they reached the base of the plateau and Ben finally pointed to a small open space.

“We do an equipment check. Anything we don’t need we leave here. From now on, we travel fast and light.”

The group set to dropping packs and arming up — weapons were slung on bodies and placed in sheaths, holsters, and pouches. Food was only a single canteen and a few protein bars.

Drake, Ben, and the mercenaries were like drilled machines as they went over their gear. Helen carefully added and removed items, and Nicolás frowned as he checked much of his equipment pile.

“It’s dead.” Nicolás held out a small black box. “This ionization meter; it was fully charged when I left, but it’s telling me that the battery is now fully drained.”

“You heard that bit about magnetic interference, right?” Drake kept reloading his now lighter pack. “Like an EMP wave — knocks everything out and will stay out for the next 24 hours.”

“He’s right,” Ben said. “So leave it here, as it won’t miraculously start working if you lug it all the way to the top.”

“But… ” Nicolás shook his head. “I need it.”

Ben stopped what he was doing. “No, you need working equipment. You don’t need dead weight. I cannot impress on you the need to be able to travel fast, silently, and lightly as can be.” He stared. “Doing otherwise will get you dead.”

“Or worse, maybe get us dead,” Drake added.

Ben sat with his back to a tree and pushed his hat forward to give him some cover from the warm rain. “And now, smoke ‘em if you got em.” He pulled out one of his protein bars and ripped open the foil cover.

High above them came a long bellow that continued on for several seconds before being abruptly cut off. Ben chewed mechanically, knowing exactly what it was: the world of tooth and claw was waking up — and it was hungry.

CHAPTER 36

Emma froze, coffee cup gripped in one hand, as the lights went out, leaving her in a blackness that was deeper than the void of space. She wasn’t even sure if she breathed, but this one seemed to go on and on, and by the time she tried to bring her senses to bear on it, it was over.

When the light came back, the first thing she did was race to the window. The sun was getting ready to go down and evening’s dusk was only about an hour away when the blackout had occurred. Nothing had changed about the sunset. But that was about all that was the same.

Her back straightened as she stared. The rolling, dry plains and weird herds of savannah-like beasts that were there only minutes ago were now gone. In their place were colossal trees that each spread over hundreds of feet. They could have been fig trees except for the massive branches hung with basketball-sized fruits like blaring red melons.

Birds swooped from branch to branch; and further in, she could just make out movement at their bases and in their canopies. But the twilight shadows were too deep for her to see clearly what was in there.

The one thing she had learned was that with every change, there came potential new dangers. It was like evolution was trying out different things, showing them all the paths it could have taken with minuscule adjustments along the way. And because she was outside of the changes, she had no idea, no education, nor life experience on how to deal with them.

She picked up the phone. Her neighbors Frank and Allie were good sources of information, so she called them.

The phone rang out, which was strange given the time. They were a few years older than she and Ben and given it was midweek, she doubted they had a dinner date.

She hung up and dialed them again — same result. Emma put the phone down slowly as she continued to stare out the large window toward the massive tree forest. Should she go visit them? She’d been meaning to try and patch things up ever since Ben had been over there demanding their dog back — that she now knew never existed.

She’d spoken to them a few times, but though cordial, there had been strain between their households now. Might be a good idea to get Zach and herself out of the house for an hour or two anyway. She had been going crazy being stuck at home doing nothing but worrying about Ben, and every minute now seemed an eternity. She craved activity, and she knew that Zach needed it as well.

“Zach,” she called. “We’re going for a drive.”

“Aww, why?” From somewhere deeper in the house.

She smiled. Here we go again, she thought and grabbed her coat and the car keys and headed for the door, pausing at the bottom of the steps.

“Come on, Zachy, we’re just going to visit Frank and Allie next door.”

The groan managed to contain every atom of indignation a six-year-old boy could muster, and she smiled as she put her coffee cup down on the edge of the table and went to pull open the front door. She was immediately assailed by the new odors of spoiling fruit, plant sap, and rich forest soil.

She exhaled long and slow as she stared — rolling English countryside green hills, to Serengeti plains, and now some sort of giant tree forest. The evolutionary changes are rolling forward faster and faster, she thought. It reminded her of those multiple drawings done on the edge of paper, each one slightly different, and when you flicked through them, it made them move faster and faster. It seemed that evolution was in a hurry and speeding to catch up. But to what?

She heard Zach rumble on the steps — but from down in the basement, not from his room upstairs.

“Mum, are you mad?” he asked, his features twisted. “Shut the door.”

“What?” Emma frowned.

He pointed past her, his eyes wide. “Shut the door, shut the door.”

Emma was confused to the point of inaction, and her son ran to her, grabbed her arm, dragging her back inside, and then gently closed the door.

“We shouldn’t even be up here now. You know that.” He pointed to the window. “Aw, Mom, you haven’t even closed the shutters.”

Emma saw real fear on her boy’s face. She suddenly felt rising panic in the pit of her stomach.

“Zach, please, help me understand. I, um, had another of my memory blackouts. Tell me what’s happening?” She stopped him and stared down into his face that seemed drained of color.

“The time, the desmos; remember?” He began to drag her to the basement. But as she approached, she saw it was somehow different. The previous wooden door leading down the stairs was now a fortified sheet of steel set into reinforced concrete.

“The what?” she asked.

“Shush, they’ll hear us.” Zach looked past her, his eyes wide. “The sun’s down. They’ll be out now.”

“The desmos? What are they?” She started to raise her voice as panic took hold.

Zach put his finger to his lips, but looked past her, and his eyes widened even further. “Oh no, the bolt.”

She turned. Beside the door was now a thick beam and two metal braces where it was supposed to slot on behind the door to hold it. He left her and sprinted toward it. On his way, he knocked her coffee cup from the table, where it hit the tiled floor and exploded into a hundred pieces. He froze from the loud noise, his hands up and teeth bared in a fearful grimace.

Emma had never seen such fear on his face like this, and it broke her heart.

“Zach?” She stepped toward him, just as one of the huge side windows blew inward with a massive spray of glass.

And something came in with it.

It hit the ground and immediately came upright. The thing was roughly man-shaped, but taller and thinner. However, not frail as it was covered in a dark, sinewy muscle, and when it turned to her, Emma felt her blood run cold.

The head was rounded and the face flat with a large mouth and protruding fangs. There was no nose, just a triangular-shaped double slit that operated wetly as it sniffed the room. And above that nasal cavity were two huge black eyes. Though standing taller than a man, it used its long front arms for locomotion as its back legs looked almost comically stunted, and between the arms and legs was a thin membrane.

It clicked, mewled, and squeaked as it sniffed and craned toward them. Emma had frozen in shock, but Zach broke the spell.

“Run!” he yelled.

Her muscles unlocked, and she headed to the front sitting room. Zach scurried away in a different direction, and the thing hopped and flapped leathery wings trying to get after her, but found the confines of the room hard to navigate. Still, it was fast and strong. Furniture was pushed aside as it skipped over some and bullocked other pieces out of its way.

“Hey, hey.” Emma was frantic, trying to stay ahead of it, as well as consciously trying to lead it away from her son.

Desmos, Zach had called them. Now she made the connection after seeing the monstrosity; she’d come across something like them before when she was cave climbing down in Brazil—Desmodontinae—the scientific name for a bat. And not just any bat, but the ones that drank blood; the vampire bat.

She winced as she wedged herself in beside the broom closet. They were different than other bats in that, while bats mostly lost the ability to maneuver on land, vampire bats could walk, jump, and even run by using a unique, hopping gait, in which the forelimbs instead of the hind-limbs are recruited for locomotion, as the wing arms are much more powerful than the legs.

This was the ability the bat thing was using now. She wracked her brain trying to remember more details — they had good vision, a sense of smell like a bloodhound, and one other thing, saliva that was an anticoagulant, so when they bit, the blood didn’t clot and continued to flow for them to drink.

She heard the thing snuffling and smelled the acrid stink of it. Emma wedged herself in deeper and looked about for a weapon. She didn’t get it; vampire bats were tiny and usually no bigger than her thumb. But this creature was huge, standing about seven feet tall. The other horrifying fact she recalled as it closed in on where she concealed herself was they could eat nearly their entire weight in blood. She had no doubt that this beast could completely drain both her and Zach if it got the chance.

Oh God — she had another horrifying thought — it probably wouldn’t be alone for long.

Now she knew why the basement was fortified, and why there was a huge bolt for the front door and shutters on all the windows. Zach knew about them, but she didn’t. Whether she liked it or not, being immune to the changes going on around her was no advantage and would get her and Zach killed.

Where was Zach?

The creature was closing in on her, and she was at least thankful for that. Because if it wasn’t searching for her, it meant it was searching for her son.

Emma needed a weapon, and the gun that Ben had left her was in its holster and hanging by the front door. She looked about; close by was the knife block. She carefully reached out and withdrew the largest carving knife she had, the one with the 14-inch stainless steel, laser-sharpened blade. She gripped it, hard.

Emma had stayed in shape, continuing her rock-climbing routine, and the one thing she could count on was a grip-strength well beyond that of a normal person.

She held her breath as the acrid fumes surrounding the thing grew stronger. She heard it sniffing along the floor, obviously tracking her footprints.

She lifted her knife arm higher.

“Hey!” Zach appeared in the doorway and threw something that shattered near the creature. He then darted away, and the monstrous bat immediately turned to follow. Emma launched herself from her hiding space and buried the blade between its bony shoulder blades. The knife sunk in a good four inches, but the bat turned and the hardened blade snapped in half, leaving its tip behind.

It swept an arm back, knocking her off her feet, but she was up and sprinting hard while the thing skittered and jumped, trying to dislodge the piece of blade still in its back.

Emma rounded the corner and saw Zach at the basement door, holding it half ajar — his teeth were bared and his eyes were as wide as she’d ever seen them. She could tell by the way his eyes moved from her to just behind her that the thing was bearing down on her.

“Move!” she yelled.

He stood aside and she dived. In a single motion, he slammed the door, just as a huge weight crashed against it.

Emma rolled onto her back and placed her feet against the door. She didn’t really need to as the solid steel was designed to keep the monsters out — she just didn’t know it until then.

She turned to face Zach, still breathing like a steam train. “Desmos, huh?”

He nodded slowly. “Did you have one of your forget-about-things times again?”

She nodded and smiled.

He came and hugged her. “I’ll remember for you.”

“Thank you.” She returned the hug, and then held him back so she could talk to him. “How did they get so big?”

“They’ve always been that big.” He seemed to get it then. “Oh, you don’t know. Well, Mr. Abernathy, our science teacher, said they used to feed on big animals like the land whales, but… ”

“Land whales?” Emma lifted her head for a moment before easing it back down. “Save it for another time.”

Zach nodded, “… they used to feed on big animals like the land whales, but when they all died out, they started looking for other things to eat.”

“Like us.” She snorted softly.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “They can have the night, and we can have the day. Works out okay.” He waggled a finger at her, grinning. “As the saying goes: you’ll be able to sleep at night, as long as your windows and doors are locked nice and tight.”

“That’s good advice.” She let her head rest on the concrete and knew then that this was not their world anymore. She shut her eyes and breathed deeply. “So what comes next?”

CHAPTER 37

Andy ran, hard, keeping his head down and arms pumping as he used his slim frame to dart, burrow, and dodge through animal tracks that were little more than tunnels bored through the tangled green maze of the jungle.

Behind him, the predators closed in — a pack of them, theropods, Austroraptor probably — about 400 pounds each, covered in tiny, shimmering feathers that looked like scales, and with their long hard snouts filled with razor teeth, they seemed like a cross between a bird and an upright alligator.

They had flushed him out before he could find cover, and he prayed that the jungle stayed as closed in as it was because he knew that if he broke into open territory, he was as good as dead.

Unfortunately, they were a large raptor species and big and strong enough to bullock their way after him, and their sense of smell meant there’d be no hiding behind any fallen logs.

Andy had been trying to move as quickly as he could manage back to the plateau in time for the arrival of Primordia, and he stupidly had been breaking all his own rules for survival — travel by night, be quiet, invisible, silent as a ghost, and where possible, coat himself in mud or plant sap.

Instead, he had taken to wearing strings of vines over himself like a homemade ghillie suit that had worked a treat to break up his outline and also cover his odor. Well, it usually worked.

But he forgot that the raptors were smart, and learned quickly, and you could only fool them for so long before they worked out what was really happening. He recalled from his paleontological studies that they were probably as smart as dogs — he knew now that wasn’t true at all — they were far smarter than anyone realized, and he guessed he should have been thankful that at least this one species was wiped out during the great Cretaceous — Paleogene extinction event or instead of humans, it would have been them as rulers of Earth if evolution had allowed them to progress.

Andy paused for a split second at a fork in his green tunnel. It was long enough to hear that the lead pursuer could only have been 50 feet at most behind him. He chose, going left, the smaller tunnel, and he crouch-ran as he burrowed onward.

Then to his horror, he broke cover into bright sunlight and had to sprint hard to cross a small clearing unusually devoid of any plants. Behind him, the Austroraptor broke through as well. Andy’s eyes were wide with panic, as he knew he had never been a sprint champion, and even though he had a head start, he was racing something as fast as a cheetah.

Andy’s teeth were bared as he concentrated on the opposing wall of jungle, but he could already hear the hissing breath of the carnivore as it must have been craning forward, mouth open, to sink its row of razor teeth into his shoulder.

And then he was falling.

Beneath him, there was no more ground, and as Andy fell into space, his mind screamed: sinkhole, way too late, as he had already fallen through the thin layer of vines hiding the deep cavity in the earth.

He wasn’t the only one, as he heard the massive raptor fall as well.

Andy splashed down first into the pool of dark, fetid water, followed by the larger eruption as the creature fell in beside him.

He came to the surface first, tasting brackish, stagnant water, and something sweet like corrupting flesh. He immediately thrashed to the slick rocky shore.

From above, sunlight streamed down, throwing a halo of light onto the sunken pond. The raptor rose up as well, but was more stunned and confused, as its larger body had undoubtedly struck the bottom of the shallow basin of water.

Andy seized the moment to clamber higher in the darkness and squeeze himself in between two boulders, trying to wedge himself in as far as the tiny gap would allow.

The theropod stayed in the middle of the pond, tilting its head to look upward. It began to make a series of short barks, and from high above, it was answered. A number of boxy-looking reptilian heads craned to look down, but its pack could do nothing.

You’re trapped like me, sucker, Andy thought as his eyes began to better adjust to the gloom.

Andy quickly looked around to better understand his predicament: they were in some sort of sinkhole pocket. There was a pond of soupy water at its center, and the walls were slick and rising sheer for about 50 feet to then curve in toward a small opening at the top. Depressingly, Andy also saw that there were animal bones lumping the water and around the pond edge — this sinkhole had probably been trapping unwary beasts for thousands of years.

Turning back to the roof, Andy saw what could have been vines hanging down. He might be able to climb out when the time was right — he looked back down at the pond and at the raptor standing at its center — and if he could survive long enough.

Above, the raptor pack pulled back and then vanished. The lone creature stuck in the hole with him let out a long hiss that turned to a scream of frustration. It stomped around in the small pound for a few seconds, swung its head to look along the slick walls, and then stopped to stare into the crevice where Andy was hiding.

Oh shit, he thought and stared back while trying to wedge himself in even tighter. He glanced up at the vines and knew he’d never make it.

The box-like head began to swing slowly away, when a tiny voice floated up from the bag tied over his shoulder.

“Is it gone?”

Andy grimaced and clutched at the bag, squeezing the small pterosaur to silence it as the head swung back to them. The Austroraptor began to move out of the water, its head now craned forward and directly at him.

Andy quickly looked up again, calculating, but no matter how many options his mind presented him, he knew the reality was there was no way he’d be able to clamber to and then up a vine quickly enough. Plus, the slick walls were impossible to scale, and from what he could make out in the darkness, the cavity they were in was pretty much the size of a double bedroom so he had nowhere else to go — he was royally screwed.

The raptor took another step toward him, but then suddenly became motionless. It slowly turned its head to the side as if listening. Andy also froze, thinking that the thing was trying to get his bearings again — it had night vision like a cat, hearing far beyond his own, and a sense of smell like a bloodhound. It would eventually ferret him out, no matter how dark it was, or how well he concealed himself.

But then it slowly turned away, and began to hunch over and hiss into the darkness. Behind the column of light streaming into the center of the sinkhole, Andy thought he heard another sound — a soft noise he could just make out that was like a typewriter’s keys being struck. He eased out a fraction, concentrating his senses.

The raptor turned again, obviously aware of the sound and probably a smell that was beyond Andy’s senses to detect. Whatever it was, the raptor could hear and smell it, but hadn’t found the source yet.

Then came the soft zizzing of water as if something was being poured into the stagnant pool.

“I think we got company,” Andy whispered.

The theropod stayed in the light with its mouth hanging open, small arms outstretched and shoulders hunched in an attack posture. Andy felt a chill run up his spine as he saw that the fearsome raptor had detected a threat that was even creeping it out.

Then from the dank water behind the great beast, something began to rise up, higher and higher. It looked like a flattened pipe, and Andy at first thought it was a snake or the long neck of a creature, but that thought was dispelled as sharp legs began to unfurl all along the body, dozens and dozens of them, and then they stretched outward, as if they longed for an embrace.

It continued to rise, nearly 10 feet and above the theropod. He recognized it now, a centipede, and in the sunlight, its head was a glossy, fire engine red and at its front, a formidable pair of pincers opened about two feet wide.

Andy knew that right here in this land, in modern times, lived the Scolopendra gigantea, the largest centipede in the world… at that time. It grew to nearly 16 inches long, was venomous, and loved living in caves where it fed off bat colonies.

But in the Cretaceous, there lived its ancestors, evolving from the mighty arthropleura, an eight-foot-long segmented insect of the Permian Period. Andy didn’t need to be told that this thing was a hunter and they had both fallen right into its killing ground.

The theropod must have become aware of the centipede as it spun, but faster than it could react, the massive arthropod darted forward, fixing its wickedly sharp pincers into the Austroraptor’s neck and then its body wrapping around like segmented tape to then allow its sharp legs to hook into the flesh.

The raptor screamed with a noise that made Andy want to cover his ears, and he wasn’t sure if the thing was injecting venom, or who would win, as he couldn’t look away.

“Now, Andy, now, now!” a voice screamed at him from within his bag.

Andy didn’t need to be told twice. If he didn’t get out, then he’d be the next thing being filled full of prehistoric venom and devoured slowly in this miasmic sinkhole.

He ran along the pond edge and reached the first vine, grabbed it, and tugged.

“Nope.”

It broke free and fell down heavily to the cave floor. The sounds of battle continued and he quickly glanced back to the pond. He saw that another long and flattened body had risen up in the dark water.

“Crap, there’s more.”

He tried again.

“Shit.”

Same result, and the next as well. Andy started to feel giddy from fear and refused to look back to the water now, even though the sounds of thrashing had ended as the battle had been decided.

He tried again and finally found one that supported his weight and began to clamber upward.

He didn’t stop climbing, arm over arm, for once thanking his meager diet for shrinking his body weight. Nearing the surface, he felt the vine begin to stretch and then jiggle. He chanced another look back and to his horror saw the blood-red head of one of the massive centipedes coming up the vine after him.

He whimpered and felt his hands and arms go weak from fear for a split second. In his mind, he could imagine the large pincers closing on his bony ankles and then dragging him back down into the darkness.

Fear then gave him a shot of adrenaline-fueled energy that made him cover the last 15 or so feet in seconds. He poked his head above the surface, didn’t even bother looking for the raptor pack, rolled to the ground, got to his feet, and sprinted into the jungle.

At the first huge hairy tree trunk, he stopped to look back and get his bearings. He tried to slow his breathing and the nausea he felt from fatigue.

Andy could see the broken vines over the hole in the ground and for a moment something started to breach, but perhaps the sunlight made it change its mind, and nothing eventually emerged.

He exhaled, and then doubled over and vomited. Nothing came up but yellow bile.

“Gluck?”

Andy opened the bag and smiled in at the tiny pterosaur.

“Yeah, you’re right, we were nearly bug food. But we’re okay now.”

He wiped his mouth on his forearm and turned toward the east, the direction of the plateau.

“I damn well hope this is worth it.”

Andy got to his feet and continued on.

CHAPTER 38

“This is fucking madness.” Chess’ eyes were slits as he hung onto his rope as the wind exploded around them, making him twist and bounce.

Ben checked his watch — the time distortion should happen any minute now, according to his calculations. They had started their climb half an hour ago and were all suspended at different levels of between 500 and 600 feet up from the jungle floor.

Above them, the sky on top of the plateau was purple-black and boiling like a witch’s cauldron. Heavy rain fell, but the wind was so erratic that the drops lifted and seemed to be coming from everywhere at once and then heading upward as though being sucked up into a vacuum.

Ben knew that the comet Primordia was reaching what was termed its perigee or maximum observable focus, as it had reached its closest point to Earth. They must continue on, and must do it now.

“Hang on!” Ben yelled back. “It’ll soon… ”

The magnetic distortion reached its peak, and with it was generated a form of stability. The hurricane-like winds that had been roaring above the top of the plateau ceased, and the boiling clouds dropped to become a mist that moved through a primordial forest.

“… stop,” Ben finished.

Torrential rain still fell around them, but high above, Ben could now see an oasis of light forming. He knew that on the plateau the sunlight would be breaking through.

But the anomaly was that it wasn’t breaking through on their world, or in their time. Where they were going was somewhere far older and far away. But only in time.

“Climb, now!” he yelled and engaged his winch that began to drag him higher.

Now was the time, now the season of Primordia had begun.