by Rachel Ford
At length, Stevenson said, “Well, we should head back to the car.”
Nancy nodded, and there was a touch of sadness to her voice as she said, “I suppose so.”
He grinned. “The best is yet to come, Nance.”
“Oh?”
He would say no more, though, except, “You’ll see.”
The trio returned to the rover. “Alright,” Nancy said as they fastened their safety restraints, “so what’s next?”
Stevenson powered the vehicle up, and then turned to her with a smirk. “Hold on, Nance.”
With that, the rover darted forward. Nancy loosed a yelp, somewhere between excitement and fright.
Alfred, meanwhile, found himself pressed against the back of his chair at the acceleration. His reaction was squarely on the side of fright. He strained to see what the marine was doing, or where they were headed; and when he did, he wished he hadn’t.
The vehicle had left the embankment, and was headed straight for the water, accelerating all the time.
Chapter Twenty
They broke the surface of the water with a great splash. Nancy was hollering with delight. Alfred was screaming in terror.
“You didn’t tell me this thing could go underwater,” she said.
“No,” the marine smirked, “I didn’t.”
She elbowed him playfully. “You sneak.”
Alfred, meanwhile, was only now returning to a state of mental equilibrium. The vehicle hadn’t flooded; they weren’t drowning; Nancy was enjoying herself. That meant that the marine wasn’t trying to kill them in some kind of crazy murder-suicide plot. It meant he hadn’t lost his mind, after so many years in the past. It meant he could breathe again.
The taxman allowed himself to do so. Then, he looked out the window.
The sky and horizon were gone. In their place was an entirely new world, of soft blues and gentle, rippling water passing them by.
“Why are we in the Western Interior Sea?” he managed.
“Much better view that way,” Stevenson said. “If we’re lucky, we’ll see some fish. Or maybe even one of the swimmers that graze on plants near the shore.”
“Swimmers?”
“Hadrosaurs. Duck-billed swimming dinosaurs.”
“Herbivores, right?”
“Yeah.”
“They’re harmless, then?” Alfred wondered. “Since they eat plants?”
“Well, I don’t know about harmless. They’re still big. They can still kill you, if they think you’re a threat.”
“But…we’ll be safe in here, anyway?”
The marine laughed. “Yeah, you’ll be safe, Alfred.”
He colored at the mockery in the other man’s tone. “I’m not convinced of that,” he sniffed, “with you still behind the wheel.”
Stevenson ignored him, though, and continued addressing Nancy. “We hunt them, sometimes. They don’t taste great – they’re kind of chewy – but they’re a good source of protein. And big enough so you get a lot of food.”
Alfred had no interest in learning what the marine liked to kill. So he turned his attention back to his window. It was, he had to admit, an interesting view of the sea. Creatures now and again would dart past, some of them fish-like and familiar, and others strange and sometimes horrifying. One of the forms that scuttled by in particular, he thought, had carved out a special place in his nightmares. It was long and green, with flipper like appendages, and a great bulging midsection from which dangled dual tails.
He saw plenty of underwater plants, too. There were broad, leafy variants, and long, thread-like weeds as well.
They passed a few of the limestone pillars he’d spotted from the shore, and underwater animals would dart to or from them in search of safety as they went by.
Nancy, meanwhile, had steered the conversation from killing to tech. “So how long can this thing stay underwater?”
“As long as you’ve got fuel. It’s got a set of gills – to process oxygen for the cab. And it actually gets better mileage under water than on land.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s not as maneuverable, though.”
“Still,” she said, “that’s one hell of a design.”
Stevenson nodded. “Yeah. There’s a land and air version too – the ones you saw in the hanger, with wings. They fold when you’re on the ground. But there’s still some bugs with those models. We keep them in air mode only. Too many problems otherwise.”
Nancy shook her head. “I’m impressed.”
“That was one of the perks of working for Futureprise: all the cool toys. Up until we got trapped in the past, anyway.”
She laughed. “Kind of puts a damper on things, I guess.”
He glanced over at her. “I don’t know. It’s not so bad.”
They’d been underwater for about an hour, and the novelty was decidedly wearing thin for the taxman. His stomach was feeling uncooperative, and he couldn’t tell if that was because of the throb of the water against the rover, or the marine’s steady stream of flirtatious nonsense directed at Nancy.
Either way, he was feeling like he might vomit at any minute. Stevenson dismissed his concerns, until he observed, “Well, you can explain to the Garritys why there’s puke all over the upholstery, I suppose.”
That did the trick, and they headed back toward the shore. “There’s an island out another hour and a half or so in the direction we were headed,” Stevenson told Nancy. “We’ll have to come back some time. You’ll like it.”
Alfred rolled his eyes, and was searching his mind for an appropriately sarcastic comment to offer, when a shadow fell across his window – across, he thought, the entire craft. “What’s that?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” Nancy was craning her head at her own window, glancing toward the surface of the water.
The marine, meanwhile, was frowning at his sensor display. “Looks like we might have company.”
“Company?” he said it in unison with Nancy. He added, “What kind of company.”
“Not sure, but it’s big. Some kind of plesiosaur, I’d guess.”
“A plesiosaur? What’s that?”
“Another family of aquatic dinosaurs.”
“Are they dangerous?”
“They can be. But we’re in-” He cut off suddenly, and everyone started.
A wall of green and gray passed in front of them. At least, to Alfred’s eyes, it looked like a wall. It was vast and solid, and reached above and below the viewport.
“Oh boy,” Stevenson said. “He’s checking us out.”
“Are we…safe?” the taxman ventured.
“Nothing he’s got can penetrate our armor. But…we may be in for a rough ride.”
“How rough?” Alfred asked.
The answer came quickly, and left no room for uncertainty. Motion to his right caught the taxman’s eyes, and he turned just in time to see a snout, some three or four meters long, parting. The creature’s mouth stretched wide, and inside, lining the entire perimeter of the snout, were long, thick teeth.
The jaws impacted with the rover, clamping over Alfred’s window. A tongue – a great, hideous tongue – pressed against the glass.
Alfred stared at the monstrous tongue snaking its way up the window, at the teeth pressing against the vehicle’s frame, and screamed.
The rover, meanwhile, spun over. The taxman was thrown against his restraints, upside down, and as quickly flipped back over again into his seat. The plesiosaur held on firmly the whole time.
“Hold on,” Stevenson said. “I’m going to try to lose this thing.”
The motor kicked in, and the vehicle began to make way. But the dinosaur in whose mouth they nestled wasn’t giving up easily. It held fast, and seemed to be pulling in an opposite direction. The rover was making little headway.
“I’m going to shock him,” the marine advised. “If you’re not strapped in, do it now.”
“What will shocking it do?” Nancy asked. She had refrained from
the screams that escaped Alfred, but she was a little pale.
“Piss him off. A lot. But hopefully get him to let us go, too.” The rover shook as the creature tugged against it. “Alright, here goes.”
A crackling sound, high and quick, surrounded him, and Alfred saw the jaws at his window suddenly loose.
“Good,” Stevenson said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
The taxman could feel the vehicle accelerate, but his eyes were drawn to the monster behind them. He’d seen the jaws already, huge and terrifying. But the rest of the creature – or, perhaps, it in its entirety – made Alfred’s blood curdle a little in his veins. It was easily fifteen meters long from tail to snout. The tail was about as long as its snout, but the bulk of the body was comprised of a wide, somewhat amorphous midsection from which four flippers protruded. These were hard at work in the task of pursuing them. It was the undulating fashion of its travel, though, that really hit him. It moved at once like a fish and a snake, its body almost slithering through the water, yet propelled by those flippers.
“Might want to step on it,” Alfred encouraged, in a tone that was nearer a scream than speech.
The rover, though, was going as fast as Stevenson could coax it to go. “Brace yourself for a second impact,” the marine warned.
Alfred braced, alright, clutching the ceiling and back of his seat. Still, though, he screamed when it came.
The rover was again bowled over.
“Oh God,” Nancy said this time, clutching the dash.
“Let’s see how he likes it if I turn up the juice,” Stevenson suggested.
Turning up the juice, Alfred concluded, was increasing the voltage of the shock, because the dinosaur did not like it, at all. He shook his head and thrashed about. The taxman felt like a piñata, being tossed and beaten against the sides of the rover.
He didn’t understand, at first, why the plesiosaur didn’t just let them go. And he was too busy screaming to apply his mind to the problem.
The marine, though, supplied the answer. “Shit. Looks like he’s got a tooth caught on the cage.”
“Caught?” Nancy was doing a much better job at controlling herself than he was, but Alfred could still detect the fear in her voice.
“We’re fine, Nance,” Stevenson reassured her. “I just got to turn this up a little more…give him incentive to get off us.”
“Okay.”
Another buzz sounded, and again the plesiosaur thrashed. The rover went to and fro with his wild undulations. Then, very near Alfred’s head, it seemed, a great snapping sounded.
The vehicle spun to the side, turning in a circle several times before they regained control. Stevenson whooped in delight. “Alright! But let’s get the hell out of here, before he comes back for more.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Alfred had thrown up shortly after the danger passed. It had been a controlled throw up, at least as much as vomiting can be controlled, in that Stevenson had produced a rain poncho for him to use as a makeshift bag.
Still, everyone was glad when they reached land and could dispose of the “stink bomb,” as the marine called it.
The smell of vomit had put a damper on the day. But after it had been disposed of, Nancy and Stevenson resumed their banter. Alfred, feeling a little ridiculous after screaming and throwing up, sulked in the back quietly.
It was a long trip for him, but she seemed disappointed when they rolled back into the hanger. “Hey, that was a lot of fun, Josh. Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Nance. Best damned day off I’ve had in a while.”
They parked, and Stevenson helped Nancy out of the safety restraints. “Well, I better get this thing fueled up and checked over before my next shift. Have a good one, Nance.”
“You too, Josh.”
Alfred pulled himself out of the vehicle and plodded along self-consciously after Nancy. They were heading back into the main base. “That was…uh…exciting,” he said.
She grinned at him. “Maybe too exciting?”
He flushed. “I just…didn’t expect to almost get eaten again. Not so soon, anyway.”
Nancy laughed. “It was a little intense,” she admitted. “I’m glad Josh knew what the hell he was doing. I think I would have passed out if I was behind the controls.”
Alfred scowled. In his mind, Josh was the reason for their peril in the first place. “Yeah,” he said wanly.
“Hey, speaking of eating…you hungry? I’m starved.”
The taxman’s stomach was still not entirely settled, but he said, “Sure. Mind if I, uh, freshen up first?”
“Probably a good idea,” she grinned. “You do still have a little bit of stomach bile smell going on.”
Her tone was playful rather than mocking, and though he felt himself color, he grinned too. “Well,” he started.
But a voice cut in before he could continue. “Nancy!”
It was the marine, and he was running to catch up to them. Alfred grimaced.
“Nance,” he said, panting. “Hey.”
“Josh? What’s up?”
“Here. This is for you.” He extended a hand, palm upward; and on it sat a massive canine tooth, some three inches long.
She glanced between the tooth and the marine. “What is it?”
“The plesiosaur’s tooth. Remember, I said I thought he had a tooth caught in the cage, around the rover? And the snapping sound?” He grinned. “He lost a tooth.”
Alfred wrinkled his nose at the offering. It seemed grotesque.
Nancy, though, smiled. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow.” She reached out and lifted it, turning it in her fingers to examine it. “That thing’s huge.”
“Yeah. Now you know why we stay in the rovers so much.”
She laughed. “Don’t you want it, though? I mean, you were the one who got us out safe.”
“No,” he said. “You keep it. A souvenir from the sea.”
She smiled again. “Thanks, Josh.”
“Course.” They stood there for a moment, looking at each other rather than speaking.
Alfred frowned, then cleared his throat. “So, uh, are we going to get some food?”
“Oh.” Nancy flushed. “Yeah. We should.”
“And I should get back. See you, Nance.”
Alfred didn’t have much time to contemplate how the excursion to the Western Interior Sea lessened his already low opinion of the marine. The mercenary, he would correct himself when he’d think of the other man by his former profession.
Nor did Nancy have much time to admire her grim trophy. He’d barely finished washing and meeting Nancy in the mess hall when the news came: a body had been found.
David Garrity made the announcement. An overhead page went out summoning the crew to lecture hall – a bland concrete room with display screens and row upon row of uncomfortable seating. The inventor was waiting, standing to the side of the room nervously.
Stevenson found a seat by Nancy and Alfred. “What’s going on?” he whispered.
“No idea.”
Garrity made his way to the podium. “Thank you all for being here on such short notice. What I have to tell you is not pleasant. And I’m sorry, there’s no way to say it other than directly.
“Matt is dead.”
A gasp rose from the assembled persons. “Matt?” Alfred whispered to Nancy. “Who is that?”
“Matthew Fry,” Stevenson answered. “One of our security team.”
Garrity’s expression was grim. “Matt’s death wasn’t an accident. He was assassinated.”
“Shit,” the mercenary said under his breath.
At the same time, a murmur rose from their small body of persons. Garrity held up his hands to quiet them. “We don’t suspect anyone here. The weapon…doesn’t fit the profile of anything we’d have.” This seemed to only rouse the crowd more. He raised his voice to be heard above them. “Which brings me to my second, and worse, piece of news. We believe someone
followed Alfred and Nancy here. Someone from our time.”
“Not again,” someone said.
“Who?” another voice called.
“We don’t know yet. We don’t know why they’d kill Matt, either. But we’re going to operate under the assumption that they’re a hostile force – to all of us.
“We’re going to catch this guy, and we’re going to make him answer for Matt’s death,” Garrity said, and there was a hardness in his voice. “I promise you that.
“But, in the meantime, we’re going to have to implement some safety guidelines to make sure no one else gets hurt. No more single patrols. Teams of two: no one leaves the base alone. And all R-and-R is cancelled indefinitely, until this is resolved.”
There was more pushback now, Alfred thought, than when he’d mentioned the death of one of their colleagues.
“I’m sorry,” Garrity said. “But we can’t lose anyone else.
“Also, all research that requires leaving base is on hold.”
Another murmur of disapprobation sounded.
“It’s not worth dying over, folks.”
The briefing wrapped up shortly thereafter, and the room cleared in groups of two and three. Alfred walked with Nancy and Stevenson. “You think he’s after Angie?” she asked.
The marine’s eyes darted to her face, and he scrutinized her. “I…uhh…”
She pulled a face at him. “I already know about it, Josh. You don’t have to keep Garrity’s secrets anymore.”
He flushed. Despite it being such a frequent hallmark of his early acquaintance with Nancy, it was the first time in awhile Alfred had seen the marine color around her. But, whatever equanimity he’d achieved in her presence, this time she pushed him firmly back out of his comfort zone. “Sorry, Nance,” he mumbled. “It was orders.”
“I know,” she said. “Not that I’m not a little pissed that you’d keep something like that from me. But we got the truth out of David in the end anyway.”
“It wasn’t my idea, believe me. I said you had the right to know. But David was worried…well, about what kind of ideas you might get.”