by G Sauvé
“They’re harmless,” I say. I have no proof of this, but I’m pretty sure prehistoric snails are inoffensive. That is, as long as they’re not rolling around.
The snail stops less than thirty centimetres from Kara. It hesitates for a moment, then adjusts its trajectory and resumes its journey. The other two soon follow. Before long, dozens more emerge from the forest. Within seconds, we’re surrounded. I’m slightly worried, but the snails slither past without paying us any mind. I’m not sure what they’re up to until they start scaling the stone wall. The smoothness of the surface, combined with the sticky nature of the mucus that oozes from their underbellies allows them to defy gravity and progress up the cliff at a slow but steady pace. It also explains those lines of dried goo Kara noticed earlier.
It’s an odd sight, but it’s also quite beautiful. Unfortunately, the magic of the moment is shattered when Kara comes up with a brilliant, yet terrifying idea.
“I know how to get to the top,” she announces. She doesn’t even give me time to object before scaling the nearest snail and hanging onto the lip of the shell. Moments later, she’s on her way up the cliff. I watch with a mixture of awe and disbelief as the prehistoric snail carries my friend away from me.
“What are you waiting for?” asks Kara. “Pick a snail and hop on.”
I’m too terrified to respond. I simply stand there, limbs shaking and sweat leaking from every pore.
“What’s wrong?” asks my friend.
It takes a moment before I muster the strength to speak. When I finally do, my voice sounds squeaky and high-pitched.
“I-I’m afraid of heights.”
Memory 65
K ara stares at me in stunned disbelief.
“You’re afraid of heights?”
I nod. “It’s called acrophobia.”
“Who cares what it’s called? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I-I was embarrassed.” The truth is, Kara didn’t give me much time to come clean, but now doesn’t seem like the right time to bring it up. Speaking of bringing things up, Kara’s snail is now quite high. So high, in fact, it’s now impossible for her to jump off without injuring herself.
“You have to climb,” she says.
“I can’t.”
She stares deep into my eyes.
“Yes, you can.”
I’m not sure why, but I believe her.
“O-okay,” I mutter as I scan my surroundings and pick a snail at random. I carefully approach it and circle it in the hopes of finding an easy way to scale it. Unfortunately, snail shells aren’t designed for passengers. Kara managed it quite competently, but I’m far less athletically skilled, a fact that is proven when I attempt to mount the snail, miscalculate and land face first into the trail of mucus it leaves behind.
“Uh!” I groan as I pry myself off the ground. I try to wipe the slime from my face, but that only makes things worse. Now both my face and my hands are sticky with snail mucus.
“Try again,” urges Kara. I peer up at her, only to realize she’s now a quarter of the way up the cliff.
I hurry toward the snail I selected and use my momentum to propel myself onto its shell. Unfortunately, I overcompensate, and instead of landing smoothly on the apex of the shell, I go flying over it and face-plant once more. Unfazed, the snail slithers around me and continues its journey toward the cliff.
Now more angry than afraid, I pry myself off the ground and stomp over to the snail. I catch up to it just as it reaches the wall. Given its current position, all I have to do is grab hold of the rim of the shell and let the mollusk’s movement guide me onto its back. It’s so simple I hesitate.
Bad move. This momentary delay not only expulses the anger and embarrassment from my frame and replaces it with fear, but it allows the snail to begin its journey up the wall. Within seconds it’s out of reach.
I missed my chance. Luckily, there are dozens of snails for me to pick from. In the end, my success will depend on whether or not I can overcome my fear. Or so I think until Kara’s voice reaches my ears.
“Watch out!” she yells.
At first, I think she’s trying to motivate me by tricking me into thinking I’m in danger, but one look at my companion proves the theory incorrect. Her once beautiful traits are contorted into a mask of horror. Her left arm has released the snail’s shell and now points at something behind me. I follow the trajectory of her finger all the way to the dinosaur standing a dozen metres from me.
I immediately recognize it. It’s a Velociraptor. While smaller than the other prehistoric reptiles I have encountered thus far, it’s one of the deadliest. Why? Because Velociraptors travel in packs and don’t give up until their prey is dead. In other words, I’m toast.
Memory 66
T he Velociraptor stares at me with unblinking eyes. A red tongue erupts from its tooth-filled maw and lashes at the air before retreating into its deadly dwelling. The beast’s powerful muscles undulate beneath greyish-green scales as it impatiently shifts from foot to foot. Its long tail sways left and right like a snake preparing to strike. The razor-sharp claws that adorn its limbs are at rest, yet one quick movement is all it will take to transform them into deadly weapons.
I’m terrified, yet the first thought that pops into my head is: Archeologists were wrong! Velociraptors are not the turkey-sized, feathered dinosaurs they claim. The creators of Jurassic Park came surprisingly close to hitting the proverbial nail on the head with their interpretation of the prehistoric reptiles. The only thing they got wrong was the size. Real-life Velociraptors are roughly my height and measure approximately three metres from snout to tail. Aside from that, they got it all right.
Nothing happens for the longest time. I’m debating whether or not I should try making a run for it when the Velociraptor takes a step forward. I yelp, knowing the end is near. But then something unexpected happens.
A snail slithers between us. The reptile momentarily vanishes, and I become aware this may be my one and only chance to escape. Unfortunately, there’s nowhere for me to run. Fortunately, flight is no longer necessary.
The Velociraptor has forgotten all about me. It’s now focused on the snail. It hacks away at the giant mollusk with its teeth and claws. I expect a bloody display, but the snail retreats into its shell, escaping its attacker with ease. The dinosaur continues slashing, but its assault proves fruitless. The shell is too solid.
I can’t help smiling when the Velociraptor gives up. The snail, unfazed by the reptile’s attack, emerges from its shell and continues its journey. But the smile fades from my lips as soon as I tear my gaze from the prehistoric mollusk.
The Velociraptor is no longer alone. My heart hammers in my chest as I perform a quick inventory. Three to the right. Four to the left. Two in front. That’s nine deadly dinosaurs against one terrified human. It’s hardly a fair fight.
“Run!” yells Kara.
It’s good advice, but my legs have turned to jelly. It takes all the strength I have just to remain upright. Then again, it’s not like I have anywhere to run. Not to mention the fact that there’s no way I can outrun one Velociraptor, let alone nine. I watch in petrified horror as the deadly predators advance. Within seconds, they have me pinned against the cliff.
My odds of survival have now dropped into the negatives, and the Velociraptors know it. They take their time. They slowly approach, bear their teeth threateningly, and stop. They do this over and over again until a mere two metres stands between them and me. It’s only a matter of time before I’m torn to shreds.
“NAIL!” yells Kara. At least that’s what it sounds like, but she’s now so high her voice is muffled.
“WHAT?” I yell back, praying my outburst won’t excite the Velociraptors. They bear their teeth and growl but keep their distance. I’m not sure why they behave in such a manner, but I’m grateful for it.
“SNAIL!” Kara’s voice floats down from above. At first, I don’t understand what she means, but then I remember our original pla
n. If I can ride a snail up the wall, then maybe—just maybe—I can escape the Velociraptors.
It’s a good plan. At least, it would be if not for the fact that every last one of the snails has now begun the long, slow journey up the cliff. Or so I think until I spot one nearing the base of the stone wall.
It’s the last snail. It stands less than a dozen metres away. Under normal circumstances, reaching it would be a matter of seconds. Unfortunately, no less than nine hungry dinosaurs stand between me and my goal. And every second I waste hesitating, my one and only means of escape grows more distant.
I have to act. Now.
I take a moment to weigh my options. Making a run for the snail isn’t a viable solution as I would be torn to shreds before taking a single step. Fighting is also out of the question. That leaves only one option.
I need to cause a distraction.
How? I don’t know, but unless I come up with something soon, my ride to safety will depart without me. I take a quick inventory of my possessions, but it’s not until I remember the satchel that hangs from my shoulder that the solution finally dawns on me.
“That’s it!” I blurt out before I realize my mistake. Luckily, the Velociraptors seem unaffected by my sudden outburst. I take full advantage of this to reach into the satchel. I feel around until I locate what I’m looking for.
I pull out three lilis.
I raise them high into the air and slowly wave them around. All nine pairs of eyes focus on the small, red fruit.
Perfect.
I lower my hand, pick a fruit at random and chuck it up and over the wall of reptiles. It sails through the air for a moment before vanishing into the jungle.
At first, nothing happens, but then three of the Velociraptors rush off in pursuit of the lili. I breathe a sigh of relief and throw the second fruit. It lures two more reptiles into the jungle. The third distracts another two.
The number of Velociraptors has dropped from nine to two. While another fruit may well distract them, one look at the snail tells me I’m out of time. The prehistoric mollusk has reached the cliff and is now getting ready to scale it. Within seconds, it will be out of reach.
I hesitate for a moment longer before making my move. Doing my best to ignore the two Velociraptors that remain, I dash toward the snail. I work my legs like they’ve never been worked before. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, giving my muscles the boost they need to outrun the hungry reptiles.
I travel the first half of the distance in less than a second. When nothing bad happens, I allow myself to believe I will make it. Then the cracking of a severed branch emerges from my left. A quick look reveals one of the Velociraptors is speeding alongside me, each step drawing it closer to me. I glance to my right and find the other dinosaur mirroring the first’s behaviour. I look ahead. The snail is only a few metres away, but there’s no way I will reach it in time to escape my pursuers.
Most people in my situation would keep running and hope for the best, but I’m not most people. Instead of pumping my legs harder, I skid to a stop less than a metre from the snail.
The Velociraptors try to halt their forward momentum but fail miserably. Instead of sinking their teeth into me as they had planned, they slam into each other at full speed and go down in a tangle of limbs and scales.
I don’t bother checking to see if they’re all right. I rush forward and, using their writhing bodies as a stepping stone, I propel myself into the air. I soar toward the snail and barely manage to grab hold of the upper rim of its shell. Adrenaline must still be pumping through my veins because I easily pull myself up onto the shell.
I’m safe. Or so I think until I hear the unmistakable sound of gnashing teeth. I don’t want to look, but I know I have no choice. I peer down just in time to see one of the Velociraptors leap off the ground. The prodigious bound sends it flying high into the air. I barely have time to understand what’s about to unfold before it happens.
One second I’m congratulating myself on a successful escape, and the next I’m yelling in horror as the dinosaur’s jaw snaps shut around my foot.
Memory 67
A AAAAAHHH!!!”
The cry is high-pitched but surprisingly pain-free. Against all odds, the Velociraptor’s teeth have missed my foot, but they have dug deep into the shoe the korrigans designed for me, and the weight of the beast nearly yanks me from my mount. I hold on as best as I can, but the scaly predator is heavy, and my arms are weak. It’s only a matter of time before I lose my grip and go tumbling down to ground and certain death.
I focus on my fingers. They desperately squeeze the lip of the snail’s shell, but each passing second sees them turn a lighter shade of white. It’s only a matter of time before every last drop of blood is drained from them, and when that happens, my chances of survival will be nil.
I hold on for all I’ve got, but I feel my strength leaving me. A few seconds. That’s all I’ve got left. I peer up at Kara, only to find her staring down at me from high above. I can barely make out her face through the tears of desperation that fill my eyes, but I can tell she’s horrified. Somehow, knowing she cares what happens to me makes my inevitable demise bearable. I hold on for a few more seconds before the last of my strength leaves me.
A split second before my grip fails, something miraculous happens. The sole of my shoe rips and, with a resounding tear, the fabric keeping it in place snaps. The Velociraptor plummets. I don’t see it hit the ground, but I hear it. I’m not sure if it survived, but I can tell it will think twice about attacking another human.
I’m now safe from the dinosaurs, but my situation is still quite perilous. I’m hanging from the shell of a giant snail, and I’m about to run out of strength. I struggle to pull myself up and onto my mount’s shell, but my arms are too weak. I can’t believe I survived a Velociraptor attack, only to die because of a lack of upper-body strength.
“You can do it!” calls Kara from up above. “I believe in you.”
Hearing her voice acts as a catalyst for my adrenaline. One moment I’m on the verge of exhaustion, and the next I’m groaning and grunting as I pull myself up. I slip a few times, but I eventually make it to the apex of the snail’s shell. Once there, I collapse.
It takes a while, but my racing heart eventually slows, and my ragged breathing returns to normal. My strength comes back, and I find the courage to open my eyes.
Bad idea.
One look at my surroundings reminds me I have only traded in one danger for another. I may now be safe from the Velociraptors, but the snail atop which I’m perched transports me farther and farther from the ground. We’re already ten metres up and each passing second adds a few centimetres to that number.
“Oh no!” I groan as my head starts spinning. My vision blurs, and my balance is compromised. I barely have time to grab hold of the giant snail’s tentacles before I completely disconnect from reality.
I’m not sure how long it takes, but my vision eventually returns. My balance has been restored, but the fear that grips me remains. In fact, I’m now more terrified than ever before.
I hold on for dear life as I do my best to avoid thinking of the plummet that awaits me should I lose my grip. Eyes closed once more, I remain petrified for what feels like an eternity. It takes a while, but I finally manage to speak.
“M-make it s-stop!” I beg. “P-please m-make it stop!”
Against all odds, my snail complies. At first, I’m relieved, but then I’m confused.
Why did it stop?
I open my eyes and glance around. Every last snail has come to a standstill. Even Kara’s mount has halted, now mere metres from the top of the cliff.
“What’s going on?” I ask, doing my best to avoid staring at anything that could remind me of the precariousness of my situation.
Kara doesn’t answer. At least not with words. She points to something in the distance. I don’t understand what she’s showing me until I see a flock of large birds soaring toward us. At least I think they�
��re birds until I notice the scales and the claws. That alone is enough to reveal the true nature of these “birds.”
Pterodactyls.
They’re small—at least by dinosaur standards—but that doesn’t mean they’re harmless. They make up for their two-metre wingspan with vicious-looking claws and long, serrated beaks.
There are dozens. Hundreds. They fill the entire sky, blotting out the sun.
The flock grows nearer, like a tidal wave nearing the shore. I try to get away, but there’s nowhere for me to run. All I can do is sit there and wait. I do, my heart hammering against my ribcage. I keep my eyes open for as long as I can, but they slam shut by themselves moments before the Pterodactyls reach the cliff.
Air. It hits me with full force, flattening me against the stone wall. I struggle to break free from its powerful grip, but the flapping of hundreds of powerful wings is too much for a puny human like me to handle. I remain pinned for what feels like an eternity. It’s not until the cacophony of beating wings fades to a mere whisper that the air finally releases me. I slump down onto my snail, only barely avoiding a plummet to certain death.
It takes a moment, but I finally find the courage to open my eyes. The sight that greets me is both beautiful and terrifying.
Hundreds of Pterodactyls flutter along the face of the cliff. Half a dozen or so are gathered around each one of the snails that were unlucky enough to still be scaling the wall. I’m not sure what they’re planning, but I suspect I won’t enjoy it. Sure enough, they start pecking moments after the thought occurs to me.
Memory 68
E yes. Tentacles. Tails. Every centimetre of exposed skin is attacked. For some reason, I’m spared, though that does little to comfort me. It’s only a matter of time before all that pecking compromises my mount’s ability to remain affixed to the cliff, and when that happens, we will both plummet to our deaths.
I may be afraid of heights, but I’m more afraid of death. It’s thus with surprisingly little doubt that I release the snail’s eye stalks and spin around so I’m facing away from the wall. I grab hold of the shell’s lip for stability and kick the nearest Pterodactyl square in the face. It releases a surprised squawk and drops half a metre, but then goes right back to pecking. I try again, with a similar result. Only this time the flying dinosaur snaps at me and only barely misses my foot. I’m tempted to try again, but I fear it will put the beast in a state of frenzy and that’s the last thing I want. I have no choice but to watch as the Pterodactyls peck away at my mount.