Jurassic Earth Trilogy Box Set

by Logan T Stark

  “Can’t we just go home and close the portal?” Becca said. “Surely it’s the simplest way. Why get into a fight if we don’t need to?”

  “That’s not an option,” Nori said. “The entity’s malevolence radiates through time. It’s already connected to our time in the twenty first century. If we can’t stop it, it’ll be Armageddon, the apocalypse. We’re in a fight for the soul of humanity here.”

  “The rise of the living dead,” Molotov breathed.

  “Exactly,” Nori replied. “There are ranging effects. Mass hallucinations, delusions, madness, people’s minds increasingly attracted to extremist ideologies. It’s been affecting modern-day Earth for many years, but now it’s out of confinement we’re in real danger. People are going to start seeing the worst things imaginable. It’ll get scarier by the day. Eventually their minds will turn to rage and it’ll be too late. Just sit tight and lay low. We’ll be there soon, with the cavalry hopefully. I have to call Earth now. Time is not on our side. Stay vigilant, and Becca, don’t leave the starjet. Don’t trust anyone. Nori out.”

  The Vienna Congress

  A aditya turned to the delegates seated in the Congress Hall of the Vienna International Center. Most people’s faces were drawn and full of concern, but some were smirking and shrugging, laughing between themselves, hands covering their mouths to disguise their disbelieving conversations.

  “That’s the story so far,” Aaditya said. “It’s all true, every word. The anger amongst us will soon become rage, coupled with the worst hallucinations and delusions imaginable. It’s only going to get worse as we absorb increasingly large doses of spectral radiation. You know it’s true. Many of you in this room are saying things today you wouldn’t have dreamt of espousing only a few short years ago. Just look in the mirror. For some of you here, the you of yesterday would be scared of the you today. We’re already extreme, and it’s only just begun. It gets worse from here, so much worse.”

  “Lies!” Someone screamed. “You should be arrested, all of you. People like you Yamamoto psychos are the problem!”

  The sounds that followed wouldn’t have been out of place in a farmyard fight, swine barging one another to gorge on slop. The noises were awful, grunting and huffing, screeching and squealing. Aaditya waited for the disheartening spectacle to simmer down.

  “Stop, listen,” Aaditya pleaded. “We’re divided like never before, that much is clear. This is the most important congress any of us will ever attend. I can see many of you out there nodding, agreeing. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, ‘yeah, they are like that, those extremists on the other side… No, you are like that. We are all becoming like that. We’re coming apart at the seams, breaking apart, losing balance and perspective, turning to our own brands of hatred and building justifications to support them. This doesn’t need to be the way things go. We asked you here to gather in the United Nations chambers because the United Nations was founded to ensure the world would never go to war again. In the spirit of that pact, we need to come together to stop war coming to the world.”

  A deafening silence descended on the chamber. Mouths were hanging open and the light of realization was igniting behind some of the delegates’ eyes. Some were shaking their heads, not in disagreement, but as though they were shirking the effects of a mind-altering intoxicant, as though they were waking from a trance. One man stood tall amidst the sea of repenting faces. He reached down and lifted his microphone. The name plaque on his desk read, Ilya Lazarev, Ukraine.

  “I assure you, Aleksi does not represent my people,” the Ukranian Prime Minister said in solemn voice. “What you have told us today disturbs me greatly. Honorable delegates, leaders of the world, in Ukraine we know something of radiation. In nineteen eighty-six reactor four of the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant exploded. It spread nuclear ash far and wide, invisible death. In service to the world, tens of thousands of brave men and women put their lives on the line to ensure the outbreak was contained. This represents the honor of my people. We are not Aleksi. Many brave souls sacrificed everything so that the world could continue happy and healthy. They did this knowing their chances of survival were limited to days or weeks. If what you say is true, we need to act fast. With things like this, there is no time for sitting on hands. Whatever you need, we will help. Ukraine pledges allegiance.”

  “We also pledge allegiance,” Salman Salem, the Saudi Arabian delegate offered, standing tall.

  “Britain too, united we stand,” Victoria Porter, the British Prime Minister chimed.

  “You can count on us,” David Douglas, the Portuguese delegate said, rising to his feet. “Whatever you need.”

  “We stand together,” Li-Chia Ou, the Chinese Premiere said, also standing. “We offer everything we have at our disposal.”

  “We also offer our solidarity,” Lorenz Artaker, the Austrian President said. “If it helps, we can stage operations from Schwechat Airport. It’s only a few miles away. I can have all domestic flights diverted within the hour. The airport is yours, fly in whoever and whatever you need.”

  The show of solidarity grew into a rousing roar as declaration after declaration swept through the chamber. Soon, there was only one person in the room remaining seated, President Knox of the United States. She gazed around the chamber, smiling, her eyes crinkling with pride. She rose and lifted her microphone.

  “I’ve never been prouder of the leaders of the world than in this moment,” she said, gazing around the room. “Out of this nightmare, we might grasp hold of the fraying threads of world peace, so that we might weave them, once again, into a blanket that nurtures and protects all humanity. This could be our most wondrous hour.”

  Aaditya leaned on the rostrum and expelled a pent-up sigh of relief.

  “Thank you,” he said, looking over the crowd, clothes rustling as the congregation seated themselves. “Let’s hope this pact remains strong after I show you the next slide. Some of you are not going to like this public reveal, but we need this technology for the battle ahead. If you really want to help, now is the time to prove it.”

  He pressed his thumb to the clicker in his pocket. His laptop fed a new picture to the overhead projection system. Gasps went up. The Chinese Premiere and the British Prime Minister shot to their feet. The American President dropped her head into her hands. Mutters of disbelief rippled through the room. Some began heckling angrily.

  “What is the meaning of this,” President Li-Chia thundered. “Where did you get this information? This is espionage, completely unacceptable!”

  “Please,” Aaditya said, “don’t lose sight of what’s important here. We need to keep our heads.”

  He turned to the projected image of three space fighters, the American Raptor Firehawk, the Chinese Shenyang WS-500 and the British Lockheed Skunk. They were labelled so the congregation could easily and quickly understand their purpose and design. The three top-secret experimental military aircraft bore striking resemblances to atmospheric fighter planes, just these were beefed up and capable of flying into space. They had multidirectional thrusters, extra fuel tanks and were prickling with ordonnance, bombs and missiles. They also had golden canopies to protect the pilots from being blinded by sunlight, similar to an astronaut’s helmet.

  “Please, quiet, quiet down,” President Knox implored, standing and tamping the air, trying to calm the increasingly agitated crowd. “This information shouldn’t be a shock to anyone. We’re all developing secret technology. This isn’t news. Most of our developments will rot in hangars in the back of beyond, never to be used. We have this technology, so let’s use it. We need to stick together. Don’t fall apart now, don’t let this opportunity slip. It’s too important.”

  “The President’s right,” Aaditya said over the simmering din. “These space planes are the only vehicles on the planet that can reach orbit and survive passing through the star portal. Shake off your anger and try to see clearly. We don’t have time for arguments. I’m begging you, turn away from
rage. If we lose this fight, it’s over, all of it. Step back and think about the consequences of the decisions you make in the next few minutes.”

  “Agreed,” the Chinese President said. “We must lead the world, not fight and squabble. So, how do you want to proceed?”

  So it Begins

  P eter Buschmann was just finishing his shift and exiting the visitor center at Lakehurst Field, New Jersey, United States. He opened his phone, eager to discover whether his new nephew had been delivered yet. He couldn’t wait to be an uncle. He hadn’t been lucky enough to have kids of his own, but had visions of playing football, going camping, fishing, and taking the little man on an incredible journey through movie history, which was one of his favorite pastimes.

  He wanted to share the magic of the greatest adventures ever told, from the minds of the most amazing storytellers to have ever lived, Spielberg, James Cameron, George Lucas, amongst others. It was going to be like watching the best films ever made all over again. He’d be able to experience the magic once more, through the reactions of his soon-to-be best little buddy. It was fair to say his excitement was trending towards the ecstatic end of the scale.

  He smiled upon finding a series of messages. The pictures were confusing, mostly of empty corridors and rooms full of people freaking out, but the texts were alarming. One read ‘hospital full of the dead, I’m not kidding check it so scared were leaving.’ The texts went on. His brother said he was fleeing, taking his pregnant wife to their cabin in the woods. The texts went on to say it was the end of the world, and that Peter should drop everything and get there as quickly as possible. ‘don’t stop just come,’ the final message said. ‘We have supplies to last a few weeks. You need to move before the roads get too jammed.’

  Peter quickly composed a response, ‘Funny, how’s Marla? No need to freak out, it’s gonna be the best. Will help always. Still gonna charge ten bucks an hour for babysitting. Prob up the rate if he’s a bawler. Just kidding. So pumped.’ He chuckled and hit send, thinking his brother always did have a weird sense of humor.

  Peter noticed blue-green light rippling across his clothes in the dusky evening light. He gazed up and dropped the phone, which clattered across the concrete. He backed up to the hangar behind him, the corrugated structure rattling as he collided with it. Ahead of him, above the airfield, was a ghostly apparition of the Hindenburg airship, burning unearthly turquoise flames. The phantom ship crashed down and disintegrated. That’s when the dead emerged. Entities with reaching arms, all floating towards Peter, alone in the dark…

  *****

  Captain Mike Pollan increased speed, pushing the Ember Dawn’s engines to their maximum safe operating limits. From the Bridge of the cargo vessel, he could see nothing but stars and moonlight twinkling across an unimpeded ocean. He glanced again at the satellite radar, which showed zero bergs or traffic, meaning they could maintain the hefty clop. They needed to make up ground due to a delay at Southampton dock, where a newbie crane operator had experienced a vertigo attack. It’d taken safety crews over three hours to help the guy down. They’d resorted to calling the coastguard to winch him to safety. It had been one of the strangest incidents Captain Pollan had ever experienced.

  Captain Pollan had been sympathetic, as it was never nice to see someone in distress, but he was also aware docking schedules were tight and unforgiving. If the Ember Dawn was to arrive late to her destination in Halifax, they could find themselves holding for hours, which would cost the company a ton of money in overtime and fuel. He didn’t feel much like copping an earful from management, or doing all that compensation paperwork, so full speed ahead it was.

  He sat back and scanned the neon monitors wrapping around the Bridge. It appeared their added speed would cover the operational shortfall and bring them to Halifax on time. He opened his lunch pail and fished out a thick sandwich, packed full of Boursin cheese and roast turkey.

  “Mmmm, yummy borjevorge cheese…” he said, butchering the name as he always did, more through habit than stupidity. The silly sounding name seemed to have stuck with him from when he was a kid.

  He leaned in to take a bite, mouth salivating, but stopped short as the first officer, Ranya Nehmeh, addressed him from behind.

  “Sir, there’s a ship going down. Three hundred degrees off the stern. It’s… I can’t… it’s…”

  Captain Pollan threw the sandwich into his lunch pail and jumped up.

  “You’ve seen it with your own eyes? There’s nothing on radar,” he said, checking the instruments once more, then flicking the display with a finger. “There’s nothing there. Did someone put you up to this? These stupid YouTube pranks need to stop. I swear, one of these days someone’s going to get actually hurt. I’m gonna have to start disciplining people if this keeps up, docking pay. I don’t know what else to do. It’s getting beyond a joke.”

  “It’s not a joke… I… it’s…”

  Seeing the terrified look in Ranya’s eyes, Captain Pollan snatched up the radio.

  “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. This is the Ember Dawn, forty-one north, fifty-six west, four hundred miles south-south east of Newfoundland. We have a ship in distress. Repeat, a ship in distress. She is sinking. We require immediate assistance.”

  “They won’t be able to help, Captain,” Ranya said, her face ashen.

  “What d’you mean, of course they can help. They’re the coastguard.”

  “No, sir, you need to see this,” she said, offering a pair of binoculars. “Go outside and see for yourself, please.”

  “Ranya, if this is a joke...”

  “It’s not a joke. Go outside and see.”

  Captain Pollan raced from the Bridge and headed for the aft gantry. He stopped dead in his tracks. Off the port flank was a sight he knew as well as the dimples on his wife’s cheeks. He’d seen it in movies and pictures since ever he could remember. He lifted the binoculars to check he wasn’t going mad. He slewed to the raised stern of the sinking vessel, whose bow was already below the waterline, and read aloud.

  “Titanic, Liverpool…”

  “What’s happening?” Ranya asked, her voice trembling. “Is this a trick, is someone playing a joke? I don’t like this, Captain. It’s not funny.”

  Captain Pollan lowered the binoculars from the stern of the ghostly vessel and skimmed the water. He shrieked and dropped the eyepiece. He heard glass shattering as the instrument bounced over the side and was swallowed by the inky abyssal trench beneath the Ember Dawn, two and a half miles straight down. Above the moonlit water, he’d seen a crowd of translucent glowing spirits, each and every one of them eagerly fixated on the Ember Dawn, gliding towards them, ragged clothes blustering horrifically.

  “Shit, oh shit,” Captain Pollan said, turning and dashing back to the Bridge. “We gotta get out of here, we need to hit the high road…”

  *****

  Boschidar Ganev was busy cleaning the household refuse bin, as the smell of festering garbage juice was becoming unholy. He’d wanted to sit back and watch TV after a hard day at work, but his wife had insisted.

  “It stinks from all the way down the road. It was my turn to make dinner, so you’re cleaning the bin,” she’d said, using her best, ‘don’t mess with me, you won’t win,’ face.

  The logic was hard to argue with, so begrudgingly, full and tired, Bosch set to work, flushing the bin with the garden hose. In the porchlight behind him, his four-year-old twin daughters were squabbling over whose dolly was the best horse rider. They liked to argue. Bosch was fairly confident it was their favorite thing to do since they never seemed to stop. Bosch squirted detergent around the inside of the bin, scrubbed it with a broom, then tipped the contents onto the drive. He was about to repeat the procedure when he heard his daughters screaming around the side of the house. He dropped everything and sprinted. He found his girls staring at the grave of their cat, Monty, who’d died only months before. But Monty wasn’t dead anymore. The cat was emerging from the ground, face rotted, fur matted, a hi
ssing mess.

  “What’s wrong with Monty’s face, daddy?” Lucy said, sobbing.

  “Where’s his eyes?” Jessica squealed. “How can he see without his eyes?”

  Bosch snatched up his daughters and ran inside. He set the girls down and bolted the door. He heard his wife’s bare feet slapping the tiles behind. He turned and saw her trembling, clutching her phone to her stomach.

  “We need to board the windows,” she said. “Something’s happening. I don’t wanna say it out loud, not in front of the girls.”

  “I think they know, honey. Monty just came back from the dead…”

  *****

  Mari McLachlan and Laura Haughan were holed up in a bothy in Scotland. They’d been hiking the highland trails and were settling down to enjoy a good pipe and some hearty broth. After they’d had their fill, they unfurled their sleeping bags and settled down to sleep in the free-for-all ramshackle stone cottage nestled amongst the fragrant heather-strewn highlands. Tired and happy, they’d fallen asleep quickly.

  “Laura, wake up,” Mari had said sometime through the night, shaking her friend.

  “Shu…wus… leave off… ffff…”

  “Fricking wake up!” Mari said, jabbing Laura’s ribs. “I’m not screwing around.”

  “What! Wh… Aaaaghhhhhh!”

  Mari didn’t need to explain their predicament. Laura’s scream explained it better than words ever could. Perched above them, on a wooden beam in the rafters of the bothy, was a shimmering translucent ghoul, wings pulsing, ectoplasm dribbling from its fangs, eyes psychotically invigorated by their terror.

  *****

  Mary Ellis and her cameraman were watching from the press paddock outside the main arrivals lounge at Schwechat airport on the outskirts of Vienna, Austria, the country’s primary international airport. A procession of space fighters were dropping past the rising sun and brushing the tarmac, tyres puffing rubber, golden canopies gleaming rich as fire. All commercial air traffic had been diverted and the airport had been cleared. It was now the command center from which the Earth Defense Force would launch their upcoming mission.