by Jake Bible
“Combots!” someone shouted before their voice was cut off with a mortal throat gurgle of choking blood.
Amanda rolled to her left until she was up against a pile of debris. She got to her knees, took cover, grabbed her stun thumper from her back, took aim, and fired.
The closest combot took a direct hit and electricity flowed and whirled around its metal alloy body. The .50 cals on the machine’s back turned and targeted her. Amanda had zero delusions that her direct hit did anything other than piss the battle robot off.
She dove and rolled farther as the heavy-caliber slugs ripped the pile of debris to shreds. Metal, plastic, wood, organic matter, which Amanda quickly realized included human and dino, was sent flying high into the air in a shower of trash and junk.
Amanda had seen enough real combat in her career to know that even the best targeting computer would lose her in a rain of junk like the one that was being created by the combot’s attack. She used the cover to stand and sprint as far and fast as she could before the cloud of crap fell back to the ground.
She hadn’t made it far and was still close enough to hear the whirring of the combot’s belt guns slow then stop. She also heard the six legs crunching across the broken pieces of the base as it hunted her down. Wouldn’t take long with the machine’s thermal capabilities.
Amanda looked about the dark landscape, listening to the other sounds that filled the base. More belt guns, more screams from her people, more crunching and crushing of debris as way more than two combots raced through the base to engage the newly arrived humans. And something else…
“You have to be shitting me,” Amanda said, pressing her finger to her ear. “Teams, report! I need to know who is still out there!”
Nothing but static. Not even a hint of a voice behind the white noise. Comms were toast.
The new sound, the non-manmade sound, hit Amanda’s ears again and she glanced down at the stun thumper she still held. The weapon had been designed to stop dinos. Stop them, but not kill them. It was the humane way to handle controlling creatures that weren’t doing anything wrong except living their lives. Plus, before the idea that time paradox wasn’t real and wasn’t going to destroy the universe, no one wanted to kill an animal that might have been responsible for the eventual evolution of the human race. They were covering their bases.
Except, what Amanda needed at that very moment was a weapon that could cover her ass, not cover bases. And being Head of Security for Topside Command meant Amanda actually knew exactly where the ass-saving weapons were stored.
The far-off sound hit her ears again, which meant it wasn’t so far off anymore if she could hear it over the cacophony of battle and brutality that had overtaken the FOB.
Amanda moved. She moved fast and deliberate. She knew her destination and she was not going to slow or stop until she got there. Slowing and stopping were no longer options in her world. A world that had changed in the blink of an eye.
***
Blood covered Zach’s face, but as Barbara wiped it off, she realized it wasn’t his. She gave his cheek a hard slap and his eyes fluttered open.
“Wha…? Huh…? Barb?” he mumbled as he focused on her. “Where? How? Are we dead?”
“Jesus Christ, Z, no we’re not dead,” Barbara replied in a hushed whisper. “But we will be if you don’t stay quiet.”
The sounds of heavy-caliber machine guns were very close. Close enough that the walls of the crawler they were in shook with each burst.
Zach looked around, squinting into the darkness of the crawler’s cargo hold. “Are we upside down?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Barbara hissed. “Do you want to die?”
Zach shook his head and closed his lips tight. Then he looked up and opened his lips back up to scream. Barbara clamped a hand over his mouth and pressed her body down on his, her eyes blazing orbs of fury.
“Shut up. Shut up,” she whispered into his ear as she put her entire weight on his body. She’d learned when researching a story that intense full-body contact sometimes calmed psychotics down. She was ready to try anything. “Shut up.”
Zach shut up, but his body shook with fear as his eyes remained locked on what was hanging above them.
Barbara turned her head slowly and gave the gory scene a glance then returned her eyes to Zach’s and pressed her nose to his. “If I let go, can you stay quiet?”
Zach hesitated then nodded.
“I’m not fucking around, Z,” she said. “Do you hear what’s happening outside? Do you hear people screaming and dying? That will be us if you open your fucking mouth one more time.”
Zach nodded again.
“Good,” Barbara said and slowly removed her hand from his mouth.
Zach took a deep breath. Barbara glared at him and he slowed his breathing, keeping it as quiet as possible. His eyes were still on what was now the ceiling, but had been the floor of the crawler’s cargo hold. Then he turned to look at Barbara, so many questions in his eyes.
She got off of him slowly, careful not to jostle all the broken equipment that filled the space around them. Barbara’s eyes looked up then back down and she shook her head.
Above them, still strapped into their jump seats, were a dozen operators, all dead. Steel rods protruded from heads, chests, abdomens, everywhere, having pierced the crawler’s hull on both sides of the vehicle. The cargo hold looked like a magician’s trick gone horribly wrong.
Zach patted his body and sat up slowly, mimicking Barbara’s movements in order to stay quiet. He checked himself out then looked at Barbara in surprise. She frowned and pointed up at the two seats they had been assigned, both farthest away from the cargo hold’s hatch, which was no longer there; only a torn hole in the rear of the machine remained. The rods that had killed everyone else stopped two seats away from theirs. Seats that had been empty since no other civilians had come along for the trip of a lifetime.
A lifetime Barbara feared was pretty much over as the sounds of Hell on Earth continued outside the crawler.
Zach looked back at the cargo hold’s ripped-open hatch then at Barbara. She sighed, stood up, and very carefully made her way to the opening. Their crawler didn’t have a ramp, just a hatch, so the opening was a lot smaller than it would have been on one of the other crawlers. Barbara motioned for Zach to follow her.
He complied and when he reached the edge, Barbara pointed at what was outside. Zach cautiously peered out, gulped hard, then nodded and backed away.
Outside, was a clear view of Flipside FOB. Extremely clear, other than the clouds of smoke drifting by now and again. They could almost see the entire complex. Being suspended a hundred feet in the air made for a good view.
Flipside FOB had been a combination of military installation, scientific research center, and tourist resort. Although, no one that had ever visited Flipside would have gushed over the accommodations as five-star. “Disney Rustic minus the magic” was how Barbara had heard it described.
The base had been built around a central cluster of buildings that were there for the guests’ comfort—living quarters, gift shops, a couple cafes and a nice restaurant, a museum and auditorium, and some outdoor outfitter-type shops that charged a thousand percent markup on clothes that cost less to make than the hangers they were displayed upon.
After the central hub were many other buildings, spiraling out in concentric circles that were designed to be barriers to protect the tourists that had come to visit the prehistoric landscape. Of course, tourists were only supposed to be there when the turn happened and the part of Flipside contained in the bubble was safely Topside. Barbara stared at the destruction and wished that she was safely Topside, but that wish wasn’t going to come true.
She studied the outer circles of buildings, identifying the remains of what she thought were administrative offices, personnel quarters, mess hall, a cluster of research buildings, rows of pens for animals captured for study or held for rehabilitation, what she thought was the armory, if her memor
y of the map she’d studied was correct.
But being positive about any of the buildings was kind of hard considering almost all of them were barely more than piles of rubble. There were plenty of walls left, but not a single building was fully intact as far as she could see. Maybe one or two of the smaller ones, but for all intents and purposes, in Barbara’s opinion, Flipside FOB was a complete loss.
So was the one-hundred-foot wall that had been built to protect the base from outside attacks. There were single panels here and there that stood independently, but other than those few exceptions, the wall was as much of a loss as the base itself.
“Radio tower,” Barbara whispered as she realized where their crawler had ended up.
Zach nodded, took a breath, then looked out again. Barbara watched his features change continuously as he studied the scene. Then the inevitable questioning look appeared.
Barbara pointed up.
Zach frowned.
Barbara tapped her ear and pointed up in a more aggressive manner.
Through the sounds of gunfire and humans screaming were the sounds of sharp objects scraping against the hull of the crawler. Zach shrugged. Barbara gave him a “wait for it” look. Zach’s shoulders slumped then immediately tensed when the “it” happened.
The distinct calls of pterosaurs filled the cargo hold. Zach looked up and realization dawned on his face.
Barbara backed away and sat down carefully. Zach joined her. They both looked up as the unseen pterosaurs clambered about what had been the undercarriage of the vehicle, but was now a perfect perch for wingers.
***
Thompson dragged himself up the ramp and back inside the crawler as people around him fell and died. He felt hot blood pouring down the side of his neck, soaking his light jacket and shirt. The world swam around him and Thompson knew he had minutes, maybe seconds, to save his own life.
Someone cried for help then the cry was cut short as a burst of heavy-caliber slugs went to work. Thompson winced, but did not let the horror slow him down as he methodically pulled himself hand over hand across the floor of the crawler and over to a small hatch with a distinct red cross painted over it.
Thompson made it to the hatch and managed to reach up and undo the clasp, sending the med kit and medical supplies spilling down on his head. He ignored the pain from the corner of the kit hitting his scalp and grabbed the box, popping it open as he rolled over and sat up, resting his back against the inside of the crawler’s hull.
Eyes locked onto the nightmare outside the cargo hold, Thompson fumbled about inside the kit until his fingers found the unmistakable feel of a compression gel bandage. It had been drilled into every single person that worked for Topside Command, whether they went Flipside or not, that the single most important item in any med kit was that compression bandage.
Thompson tore the package open with his teeth, spat the plastic paper out, and pressed the bandage to his neck. He hissed as the gel went to work by not only putting pressure on the wound, but by injecting a small amount of itself directly into the wound, sealing off the vein that had threatened to spill its contents everywhere and end Thompson’s life.
Finding an injector pen, Thompson flicked off the cap and slammed the pen against his left thigh. He sighed as the painkiller kicked in and his body relaxed. His body numb, Thompson watched as everyone within his line of sight was butchered mercilessly. The cargo hold’s hatch framed the bloody scene like it was a TV show. With the painkiller coursing through his veins, Thompson detached and began to think of the scene in exactly those terms. It was simply a TV show he was watching, nothing more.
Then reality was forced back into his mind as a combot scuttled past, paused, then reversed and slowly turned to face Thompson. It moved closer to the cargo hold’s hatch, both .50 caliber belt guns adjusting just enough to aim directly at Thompson.
“No,” he groaned. “No. Not like this. Not fucking bullets. No.”
The belt guns whirred to life at the sound of his voice. Thompson closed his eyes.
The entire vehicle shook then a loud trumpeting filled the space just before the belt guns opened fire. Thompson whipped his arms over his head and folded himself into a tight ball as bullets whined off the interior of the cargo hold. Most managed to tear through the metal and exit, but more than a couple ricocheted about the hold, nearly taking Thompson’s head off.
Then the gunfire stopped and Thompson waited. The vehicle shuddered for a moment then went still. Hot breath puffed at Thompson’s arms that were still covering his head. Then a rough tongue licked him over and over and over.
Thompson pulled his arms away and glanced up at the open beak that was directly over him. Then the tongue flicked out and licked his face again.
“Who’s a good boy…?” Thompson asked Elvis just before he passed out.
***
Olivia was still crying, but no longer full-body sobbing, when a glow stick cracked and was held aloft by a gloved hand about ten yards away from where Cash stood.
Cash whirled around and brought the stun thumper up to his shoulder.
“Identify yourself!” he shouted and was instantly met with a chorus of hisses.
“Jesus, Tre, shut up,” Tressa’s voice ordered as more glow sticks were activated.
Cash slowly lowered his weapon and stared at the ghostly figures that filled the small corridor before him.
“Tressa? Mike?” Cash said. “Ivy? Haskins? Where’s your arm?”
“Somewhere out there,” Haskins replied as he lifted a heavily wrapped arm that ended just above the elbow. “Been out there for a while now. Welcome to Flipside, Cash. You get to die with us.”
“Knock it off, Haskins,” Tressa ordered.
“What…? How are you here?” Cash asked Tressa as he slung his stun thumper on his back and rushed forward for a hug. He winced as his left exo-brace sparked and seized briefly once more before returning to its fully operational state. “Ow.”
Tressa hugged Cash then pushed him back and glanced down at his knee. “Mike. We need him at one hundred percent.”
“Sit your ass down, dude,” Mike said. “I can take care of that. Fixed in a jiff.”
Olivia snorted and snotted then wiped her face and stood up, rubbing her palms on her jeans. “Sorry.”
“No need to be sorry,” Ivy said as she moved to Olivia and put an arm around her shoulders. “You disobeyed orders, but have balls the size of a T-rex.”
“Pissy is dead,” Olivia said.
“Shit,” Ivy replied and crossed herself before kissing two fingers and holding them up in the air. “Safe journey, you big fucker.”
Mike motioned for Cash to sit and he did, lowering himself to the floor as his head swiveled around, taking everyone in. They were as different looking as Olivia first had been when she revealed herself. Lean, haunted, almost primal.
As Mike knelt, opened a tool kit, and started working on Cash’s exo-brace, a small flashlight clamped between his teeth, Tressa sat down next to Cash and grabbed his hand like it was going to save her life.
“How many lived through the crash?” Tressa asked.
“I… I don’t know,” Cash replied. “I thought I heard Elvis and took off running to find him only a few minutes after we stepped off the crawler.”
“That was breaking protocol,” Ivy stated.
“Sure. I’ll take the hit for that, but…” Cash shook his head. “I’m a little shaky on what is considered protocol now. How in the fuck are any of you here?”
“We’ve been here for months,” Tressa said.
“I told him, but we got distracted by combots,” Olivia said. The sound of heavy gunfire outside the cellar door echoed around the corridor. “They’re everywhere. I couldn’t get to…”
“It’s alright,” Ivy said. “You tried, Liv.”
“Against orders,” Tressa said.
“But not the time,” Ivy said as she gave Olivia a squeeze then turned to face the cellar door, her weapon at the ready
.
Cash noted that she was not holding a stun thumper, but a TS .338 sniper rifle instead.
“Stun thumpers power the combots,” Tressa said, following his gaze. “We’re live ammo only now. Have been since the first attack.”
“Which was more than a month ago,” Haskins’ said, waving his stump once more. “This was an inch longer then.”
“We had to shave off some flesh that had begun to turn,” Mike said. “Or Doc did.”
“Hey,” a voice called quietly from back in the shadows down the corridor.
“Dr. Raskov? That you?” Cash asked.
“Yep. It’s me,” Dr. Raskov replied. “I’d get up to greet you, but, well, I have my own issues.”
“Both legs above the knees,” Tressa said. “He lost them the first day.”
“The turn took them,” Mike said. “We barely made it here. It was a miracle.”
Olivia snorted.
“Maybe not so much a miracle as a bit of good luck,” Mike said.
Olivia snorted again.
“Okay! Not good luck, but some luck. Like winning a twenty dollar scratch-off lottery ticket. Not exactly life-changing, but you didn’t lose money.”
“Doc lost his legs,” Olivia said.
“Jesus fuck, dude,” Mike muttered as he continued working on Cash’s exo-brace.
“Everyone shut up and let Tressa explain this shit to me,” Cash snapped. “No more interrupting, no more snarky comments. Shut up until I’m up to speed.”
“You in charge now?” Ivy asked, but there was no rancor in her voice.
“Might be,” Cash said. “Tressa?”
“As soon as you entered the bubble, it all went wrong,” Tressa said. “The micro-turns accelerated then decelerated. They became random and chaotic. The rate of bubble expansion increased immediately then decreased. Expand, contract, expand, contract.”
“Ow! Son of a bitch!” Mike cried as an arc of electricity lit up his hand. Everyone hissed at him to quiet down. He sucked on his pinky finger for a second then got back to work. “We thought you guys were dead.”