The Chosen

by Taran Matharu

  The thought of being alone in this world filled Cade with a dread so deep and dark that he had to shake it from his mind. One problem at a time. Less thought, more action.

  Cade reached out to touch the map, and to his amazement, he was able to manipulate the image in much the same way he might on a smartphone, zooming closer. And what he found was even more interesting. There was another blue dot, not too far from him. Another “remnant.”

  “What’s that?” Cade asked.

  “Remnant identified as Captain Cole Dylan Benjamin Moore of the Seventh Cavalry Division in the US Army.”

  Cade’s pulse quickened. A soldier? Or, at least, the last known location of one. There was no way he was going to ignore it. Yes, his friends might be ahead—the boat might even make it through the rapids while he was away from the river, passing him by.

  But to meet someone else, someone armed, who might know more about this place? There was no way he was passing this up.

  He took a deep breath; this could be a fatal choice. Then he turned and, for the first time, pushed his way into the jungle.

  The waxy leaves slapped against his feet as he waded through the sea of vegetation. And it only took a few steps for his world to completely change.

  There was so much life in this place. Insects whined around his head; mosquitoes the size of hornets made him glad the uniform he wore was so tough. A millipede as long and thick as a snake twisted its way up a tree beside him, avoiding the veritable river of giant red ants that seemed to cut a swath through the jungle floor ahead of him.

  Cade made an awkward leap over the marching ants, careful not to disturb them. They were as big as beetles and looked twice as deadly, the guard ants that lined the edges of marching workers opening and closing their mandibles.

  Above and around him, the calls of various creatures echoed. Chirps, whistles, even low, throaty bellows seemed to shiver the very air. He could not see them, but far larger animals than insects were nearby. It would be best to keep moving quickly. At least when he’d been by the river, he’d had the option of throwing himself in again to escape any predators.

  He continued on, slapping at any insects that ventured too close. It was even hotter in the jungle, and soon his muddy clothes were drenched with sweat. Now that he was in among the trees, he found the jungle had a strange, double-layered quality to it—the tall sequoia-type trees created an epic ceiling, with smaller trees soaking up the meager rays in a second, scattered layer below.

  Meanwhile, lush vegetation of waxy-leafed bushes, snarling vines, and fallen branches made up the very bottom layer. But to Cade’s surprise, he made good time through the forest floor, not least because of the strange natural pathways that crisscrossed the area.

  He might have called them bush trails, made by the countless treading feet of large animals like boars and deer. But some of these were as wide as roadways, and Cade did not want to imagine the size of the creatures that had created them.

  Still, the Codex followed him, and he could see his red dot was almost on top of the blue dot. And yet … there was nothing in front of him. Nothing but tall trees. Whenever this Cole Moore had been scanned, he was long gone now.

  “Codex, when was Cole Moore last scanned?” Cade asked.

  “Three years, two months, fourteen days, twenty-two hours, and seventeen seconds ago.”

  “You’re all about the detail, aren’t you,” Cade said, inwardly cursing. “I wish you’d told me that before.”

  “Would you like me to give more detail when answering your questions?”

  “Sure,” Cade said sarcastically. “As much as you can.”

  He sighed. He should definitely have asked more questions before he hurried over here. In fact, they all should have been asking it questions—it was the only thing that had any answers. There had been no time … or at least, not since they had known it would speak to them.

  Still, he might have gone in regardless, if only to look for clues. Even if the soldier was nowhere to be seen.

  Defying logic, Cade searched the area, hoping for footprints, tree markings, anything at all. It was then that his eye caught something glinting among the roots of a nearby tree. He bent and picked it up. It was a Zippo lighter, empty and rusted. A name was engraved on its side: C. Moore.

  Had the soldier dropped it? He looked up, more out of instinct than anything else. And there, hidden among the branches at the top of the tree, was a body. Or what remained of one.

  Despite being so far below, Cade recognized the army uniform, though it was obscured by the foliage. It looked like Moore hadn’t wandered off after all. He had died, up in that tree.

  Cade’s belly twisted with disappointment. He had never felt such loneliness, such a desire for companionship. He’d thought he might find someone here. Instead, he’d wasted precious time, time that could have been spent getting back to the others.

  Although … this body had already yielded results. He had a lighter now, even if the fuel inside had long since dried up. What further treasures could be up there, hidden in the soldier’s pockets, or hanging off a branch? A gun perhaps?

  But how to get up there? He could climb the branches, but the top was fifty feet in the air. It was a daunting task. One slip, and it would be over for him. For a moment he pictured himself dragging his body along the jungle bottom with broken legs, a tide of ants picking him apart, piece by living piece. He shuddered and pushed the thought aside.

  In the past, he might have played it safe, but now he wasn’t so sure. Pleading guilty had been playing it safe … and he’d give anything to change that.

  But here, now? This was his best hope of giving himself a fighting chance. He’d roll the dice.

  Cade wondered what Cole had been doing up there. The treetops certainly seemed like the safest place to sleep, or hide. But how had he had died up there? Perhaps he had been injured and managed to escape to the tree’s relative safety before succumbing to his wounds. Or perhaps it was where the … whoevers … had left him. Maybe he had already been dead.

  There were a lot of questions, but he wasn’t going to find the answers loitering around there. Cade spat on his hands, then gritted his teeth.

  “Here goes everything,” he muttered.

  He jumped onto the trunk and heaved himself upward, glad of the rough bark of the lowest branch. As he pulled up, he pressed his feet on either side of the tree, using the friction there to grip and push with his legs, then grasp the next branch higher with his arms. Now he was able to use the previous branch as a foothold, and he hung there, already tiring.

  It wasn’t so bad—there was a clear path to the top, a ladder of intermittent branches and footholds. He just couldn’t look down.

  He reached up and repeated the motion, sweat sticking his shirt to his back. Then again, and again. He tried to ignore the mosquitoes whining around his head. Pull, grip, pull and grip again.

  Suddenly, the tree shifted, tilting Cade forward and then bending back, as if a gust of wind he could not feel had blown through the branches above. At the same time, he heard a sound just beneath him, like a champagne cork popping but many times louder.

  His legs came free, and for a desperate moment he hung there by his fingertips, his nails digging into the bark. Choking with fear, Cade caught his toe on the trunk, giving him the leverage to pull up to the next branch.

  Cade didn’t stop to look down. All he could do was continue his ascent, dragging himself onward with all the speed he could muster. The tree lurched a second time, and Cade felt his gorge rise as he swung back and forth. Still he climbed.

  On and on he went, the sweat streaming down his face and stinging his eyes, arms burning with effort, legs cramping.

  And then he was there, in among the leaves of the tree’s top. He perched on the nearest branch and hugged it for dear life, gulping down air as the world spun beneath him. Vertigo almost brought up the figs he had eaten for breakfast, but he forced it down, knowing it could be his last meal for a
while.

  He took deep breaths, closing his eyes until the nausea receded. Then he opened them, blinking the sweat away.

  But as his view of the ground came into focus, a silent scream of horror hissed from his parched throat.

  A dinosaur had arrived.

  CHAPTER

  19

  05:05:43:21

  05:05:43:20

  05:05:43:19

  The Codex floated above the dinosaur’s head, and the creature leaped for it, its jaws snapping. The sound of teeth clashing was the same one he had heard as he climbed the tree, and Cade felt another wave of nausea as he realized how close he had come to being devoured.

  It was a theropod, based on its physique—two legs, a small pair of feathered front claws, a long tail, and a gargantuan head that seemed too big for its body. A carnosaur, if Cade had to describe it, which was an antiquated, catch-all term for the larger theropods that matched a T. rex in shape and size. Smaller theropods were usually known as raptors, of course. Everyone knew that.

  For a few heart-pounding minutes, Cade could do nothing but stare at the monstrosity below him, both amazed and horrified to see such a creature up close. Spiny black quills covered its body, and an orange growth upon its head looked for all the world like a rooster’s comb. Its movements were slow but controlled, its feathered tail switching back and forth as it stared up at him through two surprisingly small eyes, but with a no less terrifying gaze.

  “Think … think…,” Cade muttered.

  As a child, Cade had been obsessed with dinosaurs. His father had entertained his hobby, glad Cade was interested in any sort of history. Cade’s memories of their conversations were hazy at best, but he remembered when his father had laughed at Cade’s favorite dinosaur poster.

  His father had said that prehistoric creatures were unlikely to match what Cade had seen in the movies, or in his picture books. He’d said that the animators and artists had done little more than drape a thin layer of muscle and skin over reconstructions of the fossilized bones, ignoring the fat, skin folds, bumps, lumps, spines, flaps, fur, and feathers that must have coated them. Of course, Cade didn’t believe him.

  His father had won the debate when he’d shown Cade pictures of three animal skeletons and asked him to tell him what they were. To Cade, they had looked like monsters.

  What appeared to be a fanged cyclops skull had turned out to be an elephant’s instead. Another had looked like a giant snake with a curved trident for a head—that one ended up being a blue whale. The final one looked more normal, and Cade had been given as many guesses as he wished. He had guessed cat, dog, monkey, dog, possum, weasel. It was only after he had given up that Cade’s father had told him it was a raccoon.

  Turned out his dad has been right, if this was indeed a dinosaur. Of course, none of this helped him with his current predicament.

  “What exactly are you?” Cade whispered. Too loudly.

  Beneath, the carnosaur reacted to his voice and rammed its head against the tree. Cade’s stomach twisted as the bough he was perched upon swayed back and forth, and the soldier’s body almost dislodged from the hollow it was wedged in.

  There was a brief flash of blue light, then the voice of the Codex drifted from below.

  “The closest known relative of this animal is Gorgosaurus libratus, a tyrannosaur that lived approximately seventy-five million years ago. It was a large bipedal, carnivorous theropod. Adults had an estimated length of nine feet and weight of 2.5 tons. The first fossils were discovered in—”

  “Quiet!” Cade hissed as the creature’s tail swished with excitement at the noise. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to ask for more detail from the damned machine.

  So it was a dinosaur, though one the Codex couldn’t identify exactly. Impossible. Unless … it had descended from this “Gorgosaurus” creature?

  But that would be unlikely. Seventy-five million years of evolution would have turned it into a chicken, or some other vastly different-looking creature.

  Few creatures looked anything like their ancient ancestors. Human ancestors had been no more than shrewlike mammals back when Gorgosaurus had lived.

  With no explanation coming to mind, Cade finally managed to tear his eyes away from the carnosaur and turned back to the task at hand. The soldier. Surely he must have a weapon. Something, anything that might help him.

  To Cade’s surprise, when he found the courage to look at the man’s remains, he felt little revulsion. It was all bone, held together by the uniform and the hollow the body was wedged into. The skeleton had been picked clean by whatever creatures and insects had found it. Three years was a long time for nature to take its course, leaving a grinning skull nestled inside an upturned collar.

  Cade rifled through the man’s pockets, careful not to dislodge the delicate bones beneath. A pencil and a notebook, though the pages had been soaked by the rain so many times that it was little more than a lump of papier-mâché. A pack of cigarettes was in similar condition—though Cade could make out faded Japanese writing on the outside. There were Japanese coins too.

  Thinking back on his history, Cade guessed that Moore had probably been a soldier during the US occupation of Japan, just after the Second World War. Not that this helped him much. He stuffed the items into his pockets, somewhat disappointed but eager to get to the real prize. Because wedged beneath the captain’s legs was a long, canvas duffel bag.

  Forcing himself to take it slowly, he tugged it free and was glad to feel a heavy weight there. Whatever was inside would be more than scraps of paper. Maybe even a rifle.

  The zipper was rusted shut, but the stitching along the edges was ragged enough that Cade managed to tear a large rent down its side. But when he reached within, his hand came away slick. There were pole-like objects inside, and each one was wrapped in oilcloth.

  He took the one nearest the top and unraveled the cloth, careful to not let its contents fall to the ground below. He was hoping for a service pistol or a rifle. But what he found instead was much more archaic.

  It was a sword. A samurai sword by his guess, with a leather-wrapped handle and scabbard. He imagined the rest of the objects were swords too, but he dug through the bag all the same. He was right—all swords, it seemed. No guns, no documents, no clothing. Just swords.

  “Great,” Cade muttered.

  An hour ago he would have killed for a sword. But it wasn’t exactly going to solve his dinosaur problem. And now he was beginning to feel thirsty. He tried not to think of the cool river less than a hundred feet away from him.

  He looked down, and his eyes met the carnosaur’s. The beast was sitting like a dog at a dinner table, glaring up at him with razor focus. Cade didn’t think it would be leaving anytime soon.

  CHAPTER

  20

  05:00:39:17

  05:00:39:16

  05:00:39:15

  The sun was already beginning to sink below the horizon, and Cade’s heart sank with it. Every hour that passed, the others could be moving farther away from him. His choice to pursue Cole had been a fateful one, and now he was suffering the consequences.

  To be alone, in the midst of all this strangeness. Unthinkable.

  “Codex,” Cade whispered, more out of loneliness than anything else.

  The drone floated up to meet him, its iris seeming to stare passively at him as it hung in the air beside him. Below, the carnosaur seemed unperturbed by the movement, but remained where it was, staring up while resting on its haunches. Cade had not spoken to the Codex in a while, hoping that if he remained still and silent, the predator would get bored and leave.

  No such luck.

  Cade had been pleasantly surprised to see the swords—fourteen in total—were sharp and free of rust; the oil that coated them had kept them almost as good as new, despite the years they had likely spent within the bag. One of them was now in his hands—it made him feel better.

  For some time he had fantasized about sliding down the tree and leaping
from above, beheading the beast in one great blow, movie-style. But Cade was sure that even if he could pull off such a feat, he would break both legs when he landed. More likely, the carnosaur would be waiting with its jaws open wide. He simply be serving himself up like a treat thrown to a pet.

  Just like in the new school, Cade was back to being both bored and scared at the same time. He looked at his sword instead, inspecting it in the ailing dusk light, before it was too dark to see.

  The slightly curved blade was as long as his arm, with dappled streaks that flowed like water along the steel. The handle was made of simple black leather that creaked when he gripped it but felt firm in his palm. Its near perfection was only marred by the slightest of marks here and there along the blade, telling Cade the sword had seen battle before.

  He tested the edge against his arm and winced at its sharpness.

  As for the scabbard, it was coated in a black lacquer, with a long red ribbon knotted to its side. Cade created a loop with the ribbon and draped it over his head in a makeshift sling. Now he kind of regretted it; the sword dug into his back, but he was too tired to do anything about it. Not to mention that any movement excited the carnosaur below, and he was still hoping it would get bored and walk away.

  “Tell me about this sword,” he whispered, curious about where it had seen battle. “Quietly.”

  “The Honjo Masamune, forged by Japan’s greatest swordsmith, Goro Nyudo Masamune, in the fourteenth century. Considered to be the finest sword ever made, it is one of Japan’s most important historical artifacts, handed down from shogun to shogun. It went missing in 1946 when the sword was confiscated, along with thirteen other swords, by Sergeant Koridie Beimo during the United States’ occupation of Japan, according to Mejiro police. The swo—”

  “That’s enough,” Cade hissed, cutting the drone off. “Maybe dial back the amount of detail a bit, okay?”