Day of the Predator tr-2

by Alex Scarrow

  Liam looked at her and shrugged. ‘Assume I’m a child that knows nothing, Becks.’

  She looked at him and he thought he caught her rolling her eyes at his stupidity: a gesture the AI must have learned from Sal back when it was computer-bound and its visual world was what it picked up from the one webcam.

  ‘Tachyon particles decay at a constant rate. That is why it takes greater amounts of energy to beam a signal further into the past.’

  Liam tugged hard on the vine rope, cinching the knot tightly. ‘I get that. So, if these particles die out at a steady rate, that means

  …?’

  ‘I am able to calculate how many particles decayed and, from that, determine how far in time we were sent.’

  He grinned. ‘Really? You can do that?’

  Becks looked up and tried mimicking his uneven smile. ‘I have the processing power to do this.’

  ‘And we’ll know exactly when we are?’

  ‘To an accuracy level of one thousandth of a per cent.’

  Liam shook his head in wonder. ‘Jay-zus, that metal brain of yours is a bloody marvel, so it is!’

  She seemed pleased with that. ‘Is that a compliment, Liam O’Connor?’

  He punched her arm lightly. ‘Of course it is! Don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  Her gaze drifted off across the clearing for a moment then back at him. ‘Thank you.’

  He finished lashing the log and waited for her to pick up another and slam it down heavily beside the last one.

  ‘So what? We’ll actually know what day we arrived in the past? Even what time?’

  ‘Negative. I am unable to give that precise a calculation.’

  ‘OK. We’ll know to the nearest week or something?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘The nearest month?’

  ‘Negative.’

  ‘Year?’

  ‘I can calculate to the nearest thousand years.’

  ‘ What? ’

  ‘I can calculate our current time down to the nearest — ’

  He cut her off. ‘I heard you the first time. But… but that’s no good to us, is it? I mean, even if we could somehow get a message to the future and tell them which thousandth year we’re in, finding us here would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack!’ He slumped down against the wall. ‘If they tried opening a window at the same time every day for every year for a thousand years that’d be… that’d be…’

  ‘Three hundred and sixty-five thousand attempts,’ said Becks. ‘Add another two hundred and fifty attempts for leap years.’

  ‘Right! That many. Jeeeez, they’d never find us!’

  She squatted down on her haunches beside him. ‘You are correct. It is extremely unlikely,’ she confirmed.

  ‘So that’s it, then?’ he said, sagging. The moment of believing they might have the beginnings of a way out was gone now, leaving him feeling even more hopeless than before. ‘We’re stuck here.’

  ‘Until my six-month mission timer reaches — ’

  ‘Yes, yes… I know. Then you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do.’

  A hand reached out and gently grasped his arm. ‘I am sorry, Liam O’Connor. It does not make me happy to think of terminating these humans. Particularly you.’

  He sighed. ‘Well… I s’pose that counts for something,’ he muttered. ‘Thanks.’

  They watched as the others finally arrived with the log, and between them heaved it on to the ground. Whitmore wiped sweat from his forehead and recovered his breath. ‘Good God, I’m beat. Roughly how many more of these logs do you think you’re going to need to finish that?’

  Becks turned and eyed the wall for a moment. ‘Seventy-nine.’

  He puffed out his cheeks. ‘Seventy-nine? You sure?’

  She nodded. ‘I am sure.’

  ‘Right,’ Whitmore puffed. ‘Right, come on then, you lot,’ he said to the others. ‘Back to work.’

  Liam and Becks watched them go. ‘It would be possible for the field office to narrow down the number of candidate windows,’ said Becks.

  ‘What?’

  ‘They do not need to try opening three hundred and sixty-five thousand, two hundred and fifty windows. I am certain the AI back in the field office would make the same recommendation.’

  ‘Same recommendation? What?’

  ‘A density probe. They could attempt a brief scan of each day. Any scans that returned a varying density signal warning would indicate movement of some object at that location. It is possible they would consider density warning signals as best-case candidates.’

  He looked at her. She was right. A routine protocol before opening a window, to make sure they weren’t going to get mangled up with somebody else. ‘Do you remember exactly where we appeared on this clearing?’

  She nodded. ‘I have the exact geo-coordinates logged in my database.’ She pointed across the ground towards a cluster of ferns. ‘You appeared there. Fifty-one feet, seven and three-quarter inches from this location.’

  ‘Then — ’ Liam looked at the spot — ‘we’d need to stand someone right there… flapping their arms around or something, right?’

  ‘Correct. But it is unlikely the field office will be making probe sweeps this far back in time.’

  Liam felt himself sagging again. Another dashed ray of hope. He balled a fist with frustration. ‘This time-travel stuff is nonsense. Would it be so hard for the agency to come up with some beamy signal thing we could send back to them?’

  ‘In theory it would be possible. But it would require an enormous amount of energy and of course time displacement machinery, and a sophisticated enough computer system to target where to aim a — ’

  He raised a hand to shush her. ‘Becks?’

  Her grey eyes locked on him obediently.

  ‘Please, shut up.’

  ‘Affirmative.’

  He stood, stretching an aching back. ‘Ah, sod this!’ Then he suddenly snapped, slamming his fist against the log wall. The palisade vibrated slightly with the soft creak of stretched vine-rope.

  ‘Ouch!’ he muttered, and sucked on grazed knuckles. ‘That hurt.’

  She tilted her head, curious. ‘Then why did you do that?’

  ‘Ugh… will you not be quiet?’

  CHAPTER 32

  65 million years BC, jungle

  Several of the new creatures were standing in the shallows of the raging river, frothing white water tumbling noisily around their legs. They all held long sticks in their hands and seemed to be studying the water intently, keeping motionless for long periods then finally, inexplicably, lashing out with their sticks.

  Broken Claw turned to the others crouching a few yards away, watching these creatures with fascination. He snicked his claws to attract their attention. They all obediently looked his way. Broken Claw uttered a series of soft throaty barks, and snapped his teeth.

  New creatures. They are dangerous.

  He couldn’t explain why — he just knew somehow that they were. Quite possibly far more dangerous than them. His yellow eyes swivelled back to the creatures, and across the far side to the curious contraption these things had been fashioning with their pale clawless arms. The long trunk of a tree stripped of branches and leaves and hanging at a raised angle over the river, just like the long-slanted neck of one of the giant leaf-eaters that lived on the open plain. Tied round the contraption’s top, Broken Claw recognized vines, entwined together, taut and angling back up towards another tree, over a thick branch and dangling straight down to the ground, where the vines were wrapped round a cluster of logs.

  He couldn’t begin to understand what the contraption did, or why these things had laboured so hard on making it. But they had, and it worried him. That he himself couldn’t understand what it did worried him. He barked again softly.

  New creatures. Cleverer than us.

  The others seemed to agree. They cowered lower among the foliage at the edge of the jungle.

  He could see a
s many of them wading in the water as the number of claws he possessed. He wondered how many more of them were on the island on the far side of this narrow river. More than his pack?

  Just then, one of the new creatures lurched forward, pushing the stick into the water. A moment later it pulled the stick out. On its end, one of the grey river creatures thrashed and struggled, silver and glistening.

  The stick had somehow captured the creature.

  The stick… captures… the river creature.

  He watched with fascination as the new creatures carried the large flapping river-dweller between them, away from the water’s edge and through the trees until they were gone from view. Only one of them remained behind. Still, poised, gazing intently out at the water.

  Broken Claw recognized this one. He’d seen him before three sun-rises ago, back in the jungle. Their stare had actually met for a moment, although the thing’s pale blue eyes had seemed to register nothing of that. Broken Claw sensed this one led the others, just like he led his pack. A position of loneliness and responsibility. For a moment his animal mind processed a thought that a human might have called kinship.

  New creature. Is like I. Leads others.

  When the time came to kill them all, when he was sure it was safe for them to make their move, he decided this creature should be his and his alone. Perhaps in the moment that he tore this pale thing’s heart out all the wisdom and intelligence inside it would become his. Then he too would understand the stick that captures… and the curious construction raised over the river.

  Liam scanned the swirling suds of water in front of him. Every now and then he could see the dark outline of one of these large prehistoric mudfish darting around the shallows, teasing him to make a lunge at it with his spear.

  He was useless at it, unable to anticipate which way the dark shape would lurch to avoid being skewered. Juan was probably the best among them at catching these things. The one he’d just caught was a whopper: four feet of wriggling wet meat, enough to feed at least half of them tonight. If he could just manage to bag another one himself while the others were carrying it back to the camp, then he could at least feel less like a useless jerk.

  Some leader.

  Franklyn seemed to know everything about dinosaurs, Whitmore quite a lot too. Juan seemed to be at home in this survival situation, good at hunting, building a fire and all. Keisha seemed to be the group’s carer and doctor. And, despite the unfortunate incident a few days ago, the others were beginning to regard Becks as their bodyguard. Even Jonah seemed to have a valued role as the group’s comedian.

  And then there’s me. The Irish kid who can do nothing more than keep saying ‘help’s on the way’.

  He wondered if the only reason they’d accepted him as the nominal leader was because he’d made the rash promise to get them back home. That and, of course, because Becks took her orders only from him. He wondered how they were going to feel about him being in charge in a few weeks’ time or months’ time, when there was still no sign of rescue.

  He felt lonely and worn out with the burden of responsibility. At least the last time he’d been stuck in the past it had just been himself to worry about; he hadn’t been asked to lead anyone.

  No, that was Bob’s job. He laughed at the memory of Bob leading that army of freedom fighters. They’d thought he was some sort of warrior angel sent down from Heaven by God himself; they’d thought he was a superhero just like out of one of those comicbooks. Superman, Captain Freedom. He’d certainly looked the part.

  Movement.

  He looked up and saw a pack of small dinosaurs, little more than lizards, standing upright on their hind legs and gazing at him curiously. None bigger than his hand. They were standing only a couple of yards away and tweeted and twittered among themselves as they idly watched him. Franklyn had a species name for them, although Liam was damned if he could remember it.

  ‘What do you fellas want?’ he called out.

  He could guess… begging for scraps. These little chaps had been hopping and skipping around their campfire last night like excited children, drawn by the smell of fish meat being grilled on a spit. One of them had even been bold enough to hop up on to the cooking carcass, but had slipped on the greasy scales of the fish and fallen into the fire, where it had flapped around and screamed for a while before finally succumbing to the flames.

  ‘Did you not learn your lesson last night, you silly eejits? Best staying away, eh?’

  They all cocked their heads to the right in unison at the sound of his voice.

  ‘Jay-zus, you little fellas really are stupid, aren’t you?’

  They tweeted and twittered and cooed at that.

  ‘Ah, go away, will you? You’ll spook my fish, so you will.’ Liam bent down, scooped up a rock and tossed it a dozen yards down the silted riverbank. The entire pack of mini-therapods turned and scooted after it excitedly, presumably utterly convinced it was a hunk of juicy meat.

  Liam watched them go, pattering across the silt, leaving a host of tiny trails behind them, like the trail of winter birds across virgin snow.

  And that’s when the idea struck him.

  ‘Oh… oh,’ he gasped to himself. ‘Oh Jay-zus-’n’-Mother-Mary,’ he added for good measure. ‘That’ll be it!’ He dropped his spear into the water and turned on his heels, heading through the trees towards the camp.

  CHAPTER 33

  65 million years BC, jungle

  He stumbled out of the jungle and into the clearing. Across the way he could see a thin column of smoke from yesterday’s campfire, still smouldering, and clustered around it their dozen wigwam shelters, cone-shaped frames of wood beneath layers of broad waxy leaves the size of elephant’s ears. To one side their palisade, finished now, and reinforced with a coating of rust-coloured dried mud, packed into the spaces between the logs and almost as hard as concrete. Around the tree-trunk palisade wall a three-foot-deep trench had been dug out. It effectively added another two or three feet to the height of their defence. Liam very much doubted it would hold at bay something as large as a rex, but it might be enough to dissuade any smaller beasts on the hunt for an easy meal.

  He picked out Becks among the figures moving around the camp: a figure in black, her head no longer a pale round eggshell, but dark now with a week’s worth of hair growth.

  ‘Becks!’ he called out. Her head turned sharply towards him, and her posture instantly adjusted to one ready for action. Every other head turned his way as he stumbled awkwardly across the ground towards them.

  He saw Juan and Leonard scrambling to their feet and reaching for spears. He realized his voice must have sounded shrill as if he was shouting a warning. Kelly reached into his trousers for his penknife, Whitmore for one of their hatchets.

  By the time Liam arrived beside the campfire, breathless and sweating from the exertion, everybody stood poised with a weapon and ready to run for the safety of the palisade.

  ‘ What is it? ’ asked Kelly. ‘Something coming?’

  Liam looked at them all. They were wide-eyed, some of the girls terrified even. Glances skipped from Liam to the far side of the clearing from where he’d emerged sprinting as if the devil himself was in hot pursuit.

  ‘What’s happened, dude?’ asked Jonah.

  Becks said, ‘Your voice indicated a threat.’

  Liam shook his head. ‘Ah no, not really. I just had an idea.’

  ‘ Fossils, that’s what you’re talking about,’ said Franklyn. ‘Fossils. They’re not even the original print that’s left behind, but just an imprint of the print: sediment that has filled the footprint, then hardened over thousands of years to become a layer of rock.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s still a mark that’s survived through all that time. An impression of that original mark.’

  ‘Of course,’ sniffed Franklyn. ‘Yes, of course that’s exactly what it is.’

  Kelly shook his head. ‘That’s it? That’s how you intend to communicate with your agency? Leave a mark on t
he ground in the Cretaceous period and hope some lucky fossil hunter finds it?’ He shrugged, exasperated. ‘Oh, great…’ He gazed at the fire. ‘And there was me thinking you and your robo-girl here had some sort of high-tech beacon or something to bring them here!’

  Becks shook her head. ‘Negative. No beacons.’

  Liam raised a hand to hush her. ‘That’s just the way it is, Mr Kelly. There’s nothing I can do about that.’

  Laura bit her lip. ‘That… that doesn’t sound like much of a chance, though — a message traced in the ground surviving millions of years in one piece?’

  ‘Survivin’ that long,’ added Juan, ‘ and bein’ found as well, man. What’s the chances of that?’

  Liam shrugged. ‘Maybe we can improve our chances.’ He looked at Franklyn. ‘Do we not know where the first fossils were discovered? I mean historically? That’s actually known, right?’

  Whitmore and Franklyn exchanged a glance. ‘Well, yes,’ said Whitmore. ‘It’s common knowledge where the first American dinosaur fossils were discovered.’

  Franklyn nodded. ‘In Texas, of course. Right here in Texas.’ Behind his bottle-top glasses, his eyes suddenly widened. ‘Yes! Oh, hang on! Yes… Dinosaur Valley. Right, Mr Whitmore?’

  Whitmore nodded. ‘Good God, yes, you’re right, Franklyn. Near Glen Rose, Texas.’

  ‘Glen Rose?’ Liam shrugged. ‘Would that be far away?’

  Kelly’s scornful frozen expression of cynicism looked like it was thawing. ‘Not that far from where the TERI labs were, actually. About sixty miles away.’

  ‘Dinosaur Valley State Park,’ continued Whitmore. ‘It’s a protected area now, a national landmark. At the beginning of the 1900s, I think, some of the first fossils were found along a riverbed there. Lots of them.’

  ‘The Paluxy River,’ said Franklyn, ‘where the fossils were found, was thought to be the shoreline of some Cretaceous-era sea.’

  Liam looked from Whitmore to Franklyn. ‘So? We could get to this place, right? You fellas know exactly where it would be?’