Doomed City
Prehistoric Survival Book 1
K.G. Sander
Copyright © 2020 by K.G. Sander
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
For Andy and Ev.
May you grow up loving something as much as you both love Dinos.
Contents
Prologue
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Part II
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Part III
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Part IV
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Part V
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Part VI
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Part VII
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Epilogue
A Request
OTHER BOOKS BY K.G.SANDER
About the Author
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Prologue
Part I
1. Senka
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Prologue
Click. Click. Click.
A deep inhale and exhale.
They were being hunted.
It was a big one.
Only the big ones clicked like that.
Another deep inhale.
Kennedy sobbed into the ground. She was trying hard to keep it together, but a meltdown was imminent. There was only so much a nine-year-old could take.
With a shaky hand, Maggie put her finger to her lips, signalling her children to stay quiet. Mason nodded; his deep brown eyes boring into his mother’s. He was already seventeen but looked so much younger as he desperately clutched his sister into his chest.
The trio were lying underneath a tool bench in a small shed on the edge of Brevoort Park.
Inhale. Exhale.
Click. Click. Click.
The monster breathed again, snorting, and sniffed underneath the door.
Stupidly, they’d left their quad outside the shed to find bullets or a weapon.
But this was a park for kids. All they found was a crowbar.
No crowbar was going to take… that thing… out.
Click. Click. Click.
Snort.
Maggie’s heart raced, a loud boom echoing in her ears. She had to save her kids. She had to. She’d gotten them into this mess. And she needed to get them out of it.
BANG.
The monster shouldered the shed, sending a shock wave through the rickety building. It surprised Maggie that it didn’t crumble around them.
Kennedy sobbed again. Mason clutched her tighter, trying to shield her from their impending end.
Good kids. She’d raised good kids.
BANG.
The monster shouldered the tiny shed again, this time harder, sending tools crashing around them.
Decision made, Maggie held up one hand, mouthing, “Stay here,” to her son.
He shook his head violently.
“Don’t leave us,” he mouthed back.
BANG.
The walls creaked with the weight as the monster rammed into it.
It was now or never.
Carefully, Maggie slid the lever action rifle towards Mason. Digging through her pockets, she found four bullets.
Bullets were no good against the big ones. But the kids would need the rifle for the medium ones, if they came across a pack of them.
BANG.
The entire building shifted off its footings. The walls caved around them, leaving only a small area under the bench free of debris.
Her kids didn’t scream as the wreckage fell around them. Brave to the end.
A soft hiss escaped the monster.
Now or never.
Taking one last look at her kids, Maggie wiggled her way out from under the workbench.
“Mommy,” Kennedy sobbed into Mason’s chest.
Maggie couldn’t look back. All this newfound courage would evaporate if she looked back at her kids. With a deep breath, she pushed her body through the pieces of wall and the twisted metal door to blinding sunlight. Desperately blinking, trying to make out what was going on, she almost tripped over the massive tail wrapping around the shed. The quad’s running engine ticked away merrily twenty feet from her. The head of the monster was busy with the side of the shed.
“MOMMY!”
A roar answered. Deafening. So loud it made her eyes water and head scream in response.
Now or never.
Maggie leapt over the tail and ran hard towards the quad.
She never made it.
The Tyrannosaurs’ tail whipped around and hit her square in the back, sending her flying forward fifteen feet.
She landed with a thud, all air knocked out of her, now thirty feet away from the quad.
“Run,” she tried to yell to her kids, but only a cough escaped.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The ground trembled under the sheer weight of the animal. The reverberations rattled her spine and her teeth chattered.
The sun was right above her. A park bench to her left. The quad rumbled, mocking her; so close, but so out of reach.
Mason was smart. He’d get him and his sister to safety. She knew it. That knowledge would make all of this easier.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The Tyrannosaur came into view, hovering over her, blocking out the sun. Massive maw dripping saliva, huge teeth ready to eat her.
They looked so much bigger with skin and muscles compared to the skeletons in the museums.
Funny, seventy-two hours ago she’d been pissed because she’d spilled her coffee on the way to work. Dinosaurs had been a thing of the past. Fossils. A legend of science across the world, marvelled at by toddlers and adults alike.
How times had changed.
The T-Rex roared to the sky, sound reverberating through her skull.
Apparently, a lot could happen in seventy-two hours.
Part I
Countdown
Chapter One
Maggie
The clock turned to six-thirty.
Maggie watched it from her bed and quickly shut the alarm off on her phone. John had already gone to work. She hated the sound of her alarm after nights she didn’t sleep. The remind
er of how tired she was after a night of tossing and turning frankly pissed her off.
But she’d faked being asleep when John donned his scrubs at five-thirty and headed out the door of their bedroom.
Why had she done that?
As she dragged herself out of bed, she rubbed her gritty eyes and yawned. It wasn’t as if she and John were going through a tough time. Hell, twenty years of marriage was bound to take a toll. But they were stagnant. Not distant, per se, but sometimes she faked sleeping instead of talking to him in the morning.
Especially on the nights she watched the minutes tick by as he snored pleasantly beside her.
That made things so much worse.
She should have gotten up and worked. Going over calculations for the thousandth time. But she’d forced herself to stay in bed and chase the elusive serenity of slumber.
Grumbling, she rose from her new sleep number bed and walked to the master bedroom ensuite bathroom, complete with couples’ vanities.
It has to work today. That’s all there was to it. The close to one-billion-dollar project had to work. If it didn’t, well…
“I’m ruined,” Maggie said to her reflection.
How had she landed this gig? Years of work and a bit of luck.
Well, if she was honest, more than a bit of luck.
“No,” she said, staring at herself, repeating the mantra her therapist had drilled into her head, “You were the best for the job. You’re smart. You’re capable. It wasn’t a mistake.”
The words, once uplifting, sounded hollow and fake.
Ripping the floss out of the container, she got busy flossing her teeth. Channeling the doubt and the fears of the day, she dug and pulled, relishing the pain as the white minty string penetrated her gums and drew blood. Pouring her inadequacies into the pain, she grabbed a toothpick and started stabbing.
Spitting into the sink, she stared at the blood pooling at the bottom of the white porcelain. The dull throb in her mouth helped focus her thoughts.
The math was right. The calculations were correct. Every single computer simulation they’d run over the last five years showed the super collider would out-perform CERN’s in every aspect and create a massive release of energy.
This project, backed by fifty countries and mass funded by governments around the world, was the key to a new, green energy source.
Maggie was the key to an alternative energy source.
A new world.
Nausea hit her fast, and she barely made it to the toilet before she violently heaved. Bright yellow bile hit the toilet as she strained, streaked with bright red blood from her attack on her gums.
Puking on an empty stomach.
Lovely way to start the biggest day of her life.
The thought hit her, soon followed by shame and guilt. The birth of her children, or her wedding day, or the day she’d met John should be the biggest days of her life. Not something to do with work.
But she’d be lying to herself if she admitted anything else. Today was the biggest day of her life.
“Pull your shit together Knight.”
Listening to her own barking command, Maggie pulled herself off the floor of the bathroom and walked to her closet, opening it with a bang.
Her “fuck me,” A-line black skirt, black blouse and Red heels jumped out at her. Specially purchased for interviews and media days, she’d spent nearly a month’s salary on the getup.
You’d think researching something that would change the world would pay more.
Already grimacing at how her feet were going to feel by the end of the day, Maggie pulled the blouse and skirt on, electing to carry her shoes down to the door and put them on at the last moment.
Her hair was easy. The long wavy brown was easy to pull out of her eyes in a tight ponytail. And makeup comprised nudes and a simple smokey eye.
A once over in the mirror told her she looked good.
Good enough to kick ass.
Silence greeted her as she opened her bedroom door. A quick check of the watch showed seven-fifteen. The kids needed to be up in fifteen minutes to be at school on time.
The smell of coffee reached her as she descended into the kitchen. Of course, John had made her coffee.
A plate of fresh pancakes sat on the island.
Maggie frowned.
She should be appreciative. Hell, she should even swoon. Instead, she was annoyed that John would think of it. If he forgot about her big day, then she could have fought him tonight. The lack of excuse for a future marital spat annoyed her more than the pancakes cheered her.
She really was fucked in the head.
Pouring herself a cup of strong, black coffee, Maggie grabbed the plate of pancakes from the counter, knowing John would have put a couple plates in the fridge for the kids and packed their lunches.
Because of course he did.
She was the weak link in the family. They rallied around her and she… well, frankly; she didn’t deserve them.
The note with John’s tidy handwriting placed beside the plate deepened her frown.
Good luck today! You’ll kill it. I’ll be looking for you on the news at 6!
Change the world, darling.
Maggie quickly crumpled the paper and threw it into the garbage under the sink. Even that made her feel inadequate. She should keep the note in a closet shoebox of cute memories, perhaps one day scrapbooking the symbols of love to show off to her acquaintances, “Look at how loving and amazing my husband is…” she’d brag, smirking at her friends and the look of longing in their eyes as they compared their own subpar mates. Relishing in the comments of “I wish my husband did things like that,” all the while knowing that they hadn’t made love in over a year.
As if the note made up for the distance.
Or the missionary, passionless fucking. Every Wednesday, just as the therapist ordered. Both of them locked in a different space.
Twenty years of marriage was a hell of a thing.
Opening the fridge, annoyed she’d been right as the kid’s full lunch kits and two more plates of pancakes greeted her, she grabbed the maple syrup and slammed the fridge door closed. A little too hard as something inside the fridge fell with a bang.
Refusing to look, Maggie drowned her pancakes and left the syrup on the counter. Grabbing her coffee, she made her way to the couch and flipped on the tv.
Her own face stared back at her.
Haggard, sunken eyes stared awkwardly at the reporter as she desperately tried to dumb down the thousands of hours of work so that the masses could understand. They were standing outside the University and the wind blew Maggie’s hair into her eyes.
“So,” the reporter said, bubbly voice contrasting with Maggie’s sandpaper, “this is going to be the future of renewable energy?”
“Well,” Maggie blabbered, shooting an awkward look at the camera, making Maggie wince in her living room, pancakes and coffee forgotten in front of her. “It’s not a renewable energy source, as matter is destroyed in the process-”
“But it is a green energy source?” The reporter asked, trying to guide Maggie to the newsworthy interview.
“I suppose that’s one way to look at it, but-”
“So, we will use this energy in cars and houses in the near future?”
“A lot of research needs to be conducted before-”
“Wonderful!” And, turning to face the camera, the reporter continued, “You heard it first here folks on channel 205, the super-collider project that has been ongoing for five years and provided hundreds of jobs in the construction will be turned on under Doctor Knight’s watchful eye. Time to welcome a new world! From Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, it’s Rebecca Harrison reporting for CTV Channel 205.”
A commercial started in front of her and Maggie stared at the TV, shocked.
It was worse watching it than living it, and that interview yesterday in actual life had been hell.
“I thought you did great.”
Maggie jumped a
t her daughter’s voice from behind her.
“Sorry, mom. Thought you heard me,” Kennedy said brightly, leaning over the couch to give Maggie a kiss on the cheek. “I thought you did awesome.”
“Thanks sweetie,” Maggie said, trying to ignore the failure welling up inside her. “You ready for school?”
“Yeah, mom. Mase said he’d drop me off on his way.”
“Good, sweetie. Is Mason up? And glad you found your pancakes.”
Kennedy beamed at her, “Dad cooks the best. I’m so excited! And yeah, Mase was in the bathroom.”
A door slammed from upstairs and Mason ran down, carrying his skateboard under one arm and his backpack shouldered on the other.
“Ready to go, kid?” Mason asked his little sister, running his hand through her hair.
“Dad made pancakes,” she squealed in delight.
“Sick.” He noticed Maggie on the couch. “Mom, it’s almost eight. You gotta go. Your big shit is today, don’t want to be late.”
As if she needed reminding.
“Let’s go, squirt,” Mason said, passing Kennedy’s lunchbox to her and guiding her out the door.
Prehistoric Survival | Book 1 | Doomed City Page 1