Prehistoric Survival | Book 1 | Doomed City

by Sander, K. G.

  Dirby wrapped his hand in a piece of t-shirt and knocked the glass away, then reached in and unlocked the door. Maggie gave him a sidelong look. Dirby shrugged, “Not my first time,” he said.

  Maggie nodded. They stood at the open door, looking into the dark store.

  “After you,” Dirby said.

  Maggie nodded again and took the lead, careful to avoid the broken glass. The crunch of it was deafening in this complete silence, and Maggie flinched with each step. There’s no way that a dinosaur wouldn’t hear them.

  “You think the dinosaurs have eaten them all?” Dirby asked from behind her.

  Maggie stopped and waited. When nothing sprung out of the store to kill them, she lowered her crowbar and walked to the cooler. She opened it, relishing the small rush of cool air. It was damn hot out.

  “No,” Maggie said, “the average prey to predator ratio is like five to one. There’s no way there are enough predators around to wipe out all of Saskatoon.” She opened a water and took a big gulp, then tossed it to Dirby, who caught it and started filling his own pack with nuts and energy bars. “Especially since we’ve only seen maybe fifteen herbivores.”

  “Yeah, but herbivores stick to a migration pattern. The carnivores are more likely to explore the new ecosystem. That could skew the numbers.”

  “True. But how many humans could each carnivore eat? We’ve been at the edge of the city for the last two hours. We’ve seen two carnivores.” Maggie shrugged. “There’s no way that one T-Rex has eaten a quarter of the city. What was our last census? Three-hundred thousand, ballpark?”

  Dirby nodded, “Something like that.”

  “So, five to ten T-Rex’s roaming the city haven’t eaten three-hundred thousand people.” Her bag full of bottled water and heavy, she hoisted it back onto her shoulders, Dirby following suit. “There’s something else going on here.”

  Dirby nodded and went through the door. Maggie took one last look around to make sure they weren’t missing anything and followed him. She almost ran him over. Dirby was stopped with his hands above his head.

  “What the-”

  “I said hands up, fucker,” a man yelled from where they’d left the group of women. Maggie raised her hands and stepped around the statuesque Dirby. A man was holding a shotgun out in front of him, facing Maggie and Dirby. His three friends had Ginny, Trudy, and Lindsay held in front of them at knifepoint. Two trucks idled, the beds each with five or six people, wrists bound and bags over their heads.

  A click sounded beside her, and a hand gun was pointed at her face from the side, a woman behind it smirking at her.

  Well, they’d found out what had been happening to the people.

  “I have money,” Maggie said.

  The man laughed, “It’s the apocalypse. We don’t need no fucking money.” He nodded to his friends. “Take them.”

  Ginny screamed and tried to scramble. The man holding her knocked her down with a swift hit to the head. Then bound her wrists behind her before she could shake off the stun. Maggie winced.

  “We will come with you,” she said hurriedly, stomach churning to see the blood leaking from the hurt Ginny’s head. “Okay? I just want to know what you want.”

  The man smiled. “We want people, cunt,” he said. “Gotta keep the Dinos away from us somehow. Plus, as business has changed from Up, it’s seeming that my employer has changed to trading people. That’s the running tender.”

  Maggie kept her hands up but cursed herself inwardly. Of course, the gangs would take control. Or try to. Who better to handle the apocalypse than gangs? They had easy access to guns and a network of people used to living in the shadows and handling merchandise.

  Cursing her stupidity, she allowed her arms to be brought behind her and tied with zip ties.

  A bag was slammed over her head. Darkness swallowed Maggie, and she stumbled.

  She wouldn’t beg. She’d promised herself since the last time someone did something to her she didn’t like that she’d never beg again. Not like it had helped before.

  She allowed herself to be jostled forward and heard Dirby fall beside her and curse. Lindsay moaned, they must be tying her arms behind her. Fear rose in Maggie’s chest, but she fought it down. She was roughly shoved into the back of a pickup truck. Two people taking each leg and tossing her in. A woman in the back sobbed as Maggie fell on top of her.

  “Now nobody moves,” the leader said. “Or imma blast this fucker in the head. Time for you guys to meet the boss.”

  The gang chuckled, and they slammed the truck into park.

  Maggie breathed and tried to think through the dark hood and her tied wrists.

  She hoped her limited knowledge of predators was right, and that the blood coming from Ginny’s head would help in the long run.

  Because if it wasn’t slavery and god knows what else seemed to lie in their future.

  Then what would happen to her kids?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  York

  York breathed heavily from the bushes, watching the scene unfold.

  He’d seen the gangsters pull up. He probably could have warned the group, but why should he? Those cunts had left him to die. He didn’t owe them shit.

  He jumped at every sound around him. There was no telling when a dinosaur was going to come up and make him a meal. He was reliant on the group in front of him to draw any large attacks. Now what would he do? Survive by himself?

  York didn’t have it in him, and he knew it. He needed to get somewhere safe. Somewhere with people to protect him.

  As the gangsters pulled away, people in hoods in the back of the trucks, York stood.

  Somewhere guaranteed to have people.

  The University.

  He had to get to the University.

  Then he could hunker down and let others fight for him.

  He scurried to the convenience store and grabbed water.

  Now he was exposed. And the actual game would start.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Maggie

  They drove for a while. Maggie tried to keep track of the turns. She knew Saskatoon well, but they were in a residential area on the North-East side of town. At some point she was sure they crossed a bridge, but she couldn’t be sure. Plus, with the lack of following road regulations, it was tough to know if they were even on a street. Hell, they could be following back paths for all she knew. Maggie was thoroughly lost and confused.

  The sun was setting, that she knew. The light coming through her windshield was a dark red. It would have been pretty at one time.

  Not like a cop was going to be around them.

  “How long have they had you?” Maggie asked the person next to her.

  “Shut the fuck up,” a woman yelled. Pain erupted in the side of Maggie’s head as she was hit with the butt end of a knife. She slumped to her side, truck bumping her around roughly.

  Blinking the stars clear, she breathed deeply, trying to focus.

  “Please,” she mumbled. “Please. I’m just trying to get to my kids.”

  The captors howled with laughter, and Maggie took a swift kick to the stomach. The air went out of her and she groaned. She’d never been struck before. By anything. The pain was excruciating, and she was having a tough time thinking through the haze. She had to get out of here. She had to. The captors cackled and Maggie withheld a sob.

  “Leave her alone,” Trudy yelled.

  Maggie heard the blow coming and Trudy ended up lying on the bed of the truck beside Maggie, coughing.

  “It’s okay,” she said between coughs. “I’ll get us out of this.”

  The pain lessened, leaving Maggie confused on how the five foot zero, one hundred pounds soaking wet preschool teacher was going to help them out of being kidnapped by a gang.

  “Trust me,” Trudy breathed. “Just follow my lead.”

  The trucks lurched to a halt and Maggie was dragged roughly out of the back of the truck. Strong hands placed her on her feet, and she was
dragged away. She could hear Lindsay moaning behind her, and fear overtook common sense.

  “Listen,” Maggie said.

  “Shut up!” Someone yelled.

  “That girl. She’s going to die unless we do something,” Maggie said. “I need to get her to the hospital.”

  Cackles around her as the light shining through her hood blackened and her feet went from grass to concrete.

  “Haven’t you heard? The hospitals are closed. As is the cop shop and the ambulances. Everyone went home.”

  Maggie’s heart dropped. If John had left St. Paul’s, how was she going to find him? Her family lived in the South of the city. St. Paul’s was in the central west. How would John make it to her kids? Where was she supposed to take Lindsay?

  “It’s an emergency,” Maggie begged. “Please. She’s going to die. We need to get her to RUH.”

  More laughter.

  “RUH is burning,” someone laughed. “Julio wanted to take care of it. So, after they gave us all of their Down, we burned it to the ground.”

  “But… There were sick people there?” Maggie sobbed, her stomach lurching at the thought of them being burned alive.

  “We gave them ten minutes. If they couldn’t get out, then the Dino’s were gonna eat them anyway,” A calmer voice, almost sad, answered. “We put them out of their misery.”

  “So, killing everyone in a hospital is mercy?” Maggie snapped.

  “These are different times,” the man said sadly. “We got our orders. Now we have the medications. Your friend there needs antibiotics. She’s burning up. Julio might give them to you, if you play your cards right.”

  “Bear,” someone called, “Quit talking with the prisoners. You just got your ass out of a cell, don’t make us put you back in one.”

  Maggie was pushed and pulled through the cool building. Fear had her sweating, even though they were out of the humid air.

  She was shoved roughly to her knees.

  This was it. She’d die with a hood on, never knowing what happened to her kids.

  The hood was removed in a swift motion.

  It was worse than she thought.

  Sweat poured off her forehead, and she barely kept the rising anxiety under control.

  Trudy had to rise to the occasion, or they were going to be fucked.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Kevin

  “What do you mean, you can’t tell us anything?” Kevin snapped at yet another Air Canada manager. “We’ve been re-routed to Regina. We landed and were offloaded on the tarmac. And you’ve kept us in this room with no information,” he checked his watch, “for over an hour. Now, I know you guys keep saying that you’ll tell us when you know, but this is horseshit.”

  Murmurs of agreement sounded from behind Kevin. They were being kept in an isolation room. The one that is used to house family members when there was a crash. But Kevin had never heard of people in an airplane being held there. No phones. No windows. No clocks. Thank god for the watch Jake had given him for their five- year anniversary.

  His heart sank when he thought of his husband.

  Something was wrong. They’d all known it for a while. But the uneasy hope they’d felt on arrival was fading into dread.

  “Look,” the manager said, holding her hands outward in front of her, facing the one hundred angry passengers from flight AC 1547. “We haven’t been given any information from the RCMP. You know as much as I do. Once the RCMP gets back to us, we will let you know.”

  Angry mutterings erupted from behind Kevin and egged him on. He was NOT about to deal with this shit, especially on date night.

  “Look, we all saw the crater at the airport when we were going to land,” Kevin said, “We’re not stupid. Keeping us in here without access to our phones is not okay.”

  “It’s fully within our right to confiscate your cell phones in a perceived act of terror,” a new voice said, walking in behind the manager. “David Troke, RCMP,” the man said, flashing his badge. “And, as the situation in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan has been labeled a terrorist act, count your blessings that Air Canada has provided a holding room, instead of us taking you to prison.”

  Kevin gaped. “None of us did anything,” he said. “None.”

  “We believe you,” Troke said, holding out a basket of cellphones. “But we have questions for you all.”

  “Not before you answer questions from us,” Sarah-Lynne said, standing up beside Kevin. “My sister and nieces are in Saskatoon, and I need to make sure they’re okay.”

  “Please, sit down,” Troke said, a gentle note. “I wanted to tell you this individually, but I feel it necessary that you are all given this information together, before you get access to your cell phones.”

  “Someone blew up the airport,” a passenger gasped. “I know.”

  “No,” Troke said, sighing. “Saskatoon as we know it is no longer there.”

  Kevin blanched, then chuckled uneasily along with a couple other passengers. “What do you mean no longer there? Like it was bombed or something?”

  “We aren’t sure,” Troke said. “I’m saying that where Saskatoon was, there is only a crater. The city of bridges is no more.”

  “You’re full of shit,” Kevin snapped. “A city can’t just disappear.”

  “Well, this one did,” Troke said. With a flip of a remote, he turned on the TV nestled in the room's corner.

  The news was playing; the channel saying CBC EMERGENCY BROADCAST on a banner underneath a wind-torn woman in a trench coat.

  “-That’s right, Tom,” the woman said, louder as Troke turned the volume up. “We’re not sure what to make of it. But the city has been reduced to a crater.”

  Kevin heard nothing else. The room erupted into sobs, screams, wails and moans.

  Jake was dead. His niece and nephew were dead. His life was dead.

  Kevin fell to his knees and sobbed.

  Part V

  Targeting

  Chapter Thirty

  Mason

  “That’s great,” Kennedy said snippily, “But that doesn’t answer why you have a double-barrel shotgun in your room under your bed.”

  “Who are you, mom?” Mason snapped back, pulling the shells out of the bag and stuffing eight in each of his jeans pockets. “Mind your own business and just be happy we even have it.”

  Kennedy pursed her lips, “Do you even know how to use a shotgun?”

  “Yeah,” Mason said, fumbling a bullet and dropping it to the floor of his room. “Dad taught me. He has a rifle, remember?”

  “For hunting,” Kennedy said. “And it’s not the same as a shotgun. I’m not stupid.”

  “No, you’re just annoying,” Mason snapped. “And we have to find the gun case key. Go look in Mom and Dad’s room.”

  “We’re not supposed to go in there when they aren’t in there,” Kennedy said, crossing her arms defiantly, “And I don’t like breaking rules.”

  Mason stared at her and rolled his eyes, “Ken. There are dinosaurs roaming the streets outside. In this situation, they wouldn’t care. Go. Check. Their. Room.”

  Kennedy held her stare, arms crossed.

  “Also, I caught you skipping school, remember? You’re not all about rules.”

  Kennedy hopped off the desk. “What if I find their underwear or something?”

  Mason rolled his eyes, “Would you rather take the basement where that thing almost ate your head?”

  Kennedy thought for a moment. “I honestly don’t know which is worse.”

  Mason laughed. “Fine. Want to stick together?”

  “That seems like the best call.”

  “Alright then, we stick together.”

  They left Mason’s room and walked slowly towards their parent’s room. Something clanged downstairs, and they stopped, panting.

  “We better get the key and get out,” Mason whispered. “We head to Ellis’ house.”

  “What’s at Ellis’ house?” Kennedy answered, fear raising her voice an octa
ve.

  Mason held up a finger to his mouth, “Shhhh,” he mouthed.

  Another clank from downstairs, followed by a smash, then a chitter that sounded like a cross between a monkey and a bird. Their parent’s door was open just at the end of the hall, with the stairs to the main floor leading directly to the door.

  “We have to go fast,” Mason mouthed. He held up three fingers. Kennedy nodded, white-faced.

  “One,” he mouthed, lowering a finger. “Two. Three.”

  They darted forward to the open door, a chirp and a crash sounding from the kitchen. It was only ten steps to their parent’s room, but it felt like an eternity. Mason dove in, followed by Kennedy. Scrambling, he crawled to the door and slammed it closed, just as a tiny dinosaur, about the size of a chicken, darted towards them.

  The dino hit the door with a rattling thud. Mason sat with his back against the door. A couple more thuds and a chirp. Chirps answered from deeper in the house, probably the kitchen.

  “Don’t think we are going to get that gun from the basement,” Kennedy said, gasping for air.

  “I think you’re right.”

  She looked at him, fear all over her face. “Mason. What do we do now? They’re in the house. What do we do?”

  Chirps sounded from right outside the door.

  Mason looked around the room. His sawed-off shotgun lay strewn by the bed from his frantic dive and scramble.

  “Come here,” he said, as the door rattled. Kennedy listened and crawled towards Mason, plopping herself on the ground beside him. The door banged as a dino threw itself against it again.

  “Hold it closed,” Mason said. “I need to get the gun.”

  “You’re not good enough to blast them,” Kennedy said. “Do you even know how to use that thing?”

  “Of course I do,” Mason snapped. The door rattled on its hinges again. “Now shut up and do what you’re told. I’m not gonna blast them. I’m gonna move the dresser in front of the door and we’re going to head out of the window,” Mason pointed to the window beside the sitting area of his parent’s room. “We go out the window and onto the garage. Then we hop into the Spelling’s yard. Head down the street until you get to Ellis’ house.”