by Greig Beck
Juan’s brows came together and his lips pressed so hard they went white, but to his credit, he never made a sound.
In another few moments, she had bandaged it and then rubbed his shoulder. “Now that’s a scar with a story behind it.”
Juan held out his arm so Emma, Helen, and Camilla could pull him to his feet. He patted the bandage and wore a devilish smile. “I’m going to be famous.” He staggered for a moment. “Oops.”
“Easy, might be a little shock setting in.” Helen hung onto him.
Juan gripped her arm to steady himself. After a moment, he looked up into her face. “Thank you.” He held on, and the corner of his mouth turned up. “You are a very good woman. Are you single?”
Camilla groaned. “He’s back to his old self.”
Helen slapped his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s just the oxy talking. Let me know if it gets itchy or the pain increases. We don’t know what that big guy might have left behind when it bit you.”
Blue sky opened above them, and sunlight streamed down on top of the balloon. Drake took one last look around, and then reholstered his gun. He eased forward to look out and upward, feeling the dry sunshine on his face for a moment, before facing down. As he did, he slipped a little on Juan’s blood on the basket floor. First chance he got, he’d clean that up. If Emma was right about there being big predators on the plateau, they didn’t want fresh blood spread over their home base.
Drake also saw that Juan was up cradling his arm, but his face was still pale. He came through it okay and didn’t think shock would be a problem. The Special Forces soldier looked over the side and down again—below them, the thick clouds were like a field of purple cotton. And within the boiling, angry mass, lightning forked to light up portions as though there were Christmas lights hidden in there somewhere.
“No way we’re dropping back down into that,” Ajax seethed. “Freaking nightmare.”
“What put you off?” Fergus grinned. “The zero visibility, high winds, or flying monsters?”
“Fuck you,” Ajax fumed.
“He’s right,” Drake observed. “Can’t chance dropping into that cauldron again.” As he watched, the entire mass slowly rotated, like dirty bathwater circling a plug.
“There.” Emma pointed.
Drake saw it. “Fergus, Brocke, 10 o’clock.”
All other heads turned to where Emma was pointing. The dark and slowly turning clouds seemed to dip into a sort of vortex. Fergus and Brocke opened and closed flaps, expertly maneuvering the balloon closer. It took them another 30 minutes until they edged over the vortex.
“Ho-oooly shit.” Andy grinned. “I think I can see jungle down there…and a lake. But it’s sort of …distorted, oily.”
“I expected that,” Emma said. “I believe there’s some sort of barrier, like a partition layer, magnetic waves or something, between our time and the past. It’s probably what stops those pterodons from flying away. We’ll need to pass through it.”
“Cool,” Andy said and turned back to hang over the basket’s side.
Drake leaned further out and held his binoculars to his eyes. “No clearings for landings that I can see.” He looked to Emma. “Were there any you can recall?”
Emma bobbed her head. “The only open spaces we encountered were at the jungle’s end—right on the plateau edge.”
“That’s where you said it ended up becoming like a hurricane?” Ajax threw in.
“That’s right.” Emma turned. “Hopefully, we’ll be gone long before then.”
Drake was looking down through the binoculars again. “It’s not a huge plateau to search, so the plan is we’re in and out quickly.”
“Not too quickly,” Andy said.
Drake saw Emma turn away. She’s hiding something, he thought. He didn’t like it. Lack of information on a dangerous mission got people killed.
“We’re over the center, boss,” Fergus intoned. “What are your orders?”
Drake looked to Emma. “Okay?”
She nodded.
“Take her down, Mr. O’Reilly.”
“Aye, aye.” He opened the top bag vent and let out some hot air. Immediately, the balloon started to drop in the air. “And, going down.”
“Hoo-wee. Next stop, ladies stockings, haberdashery, and freaking dinosaurs, man.” Ajax grinned ear to ear.
*****
Emma gripped the edge of the basket hard as the balloon dropped into the funnel-like vortex in the clouds. Her heart hammered in her chest, and even though she had been mentally preparing herself for a decade, now that she was actually doing it, a growing ball of nausea in her stomach told her she was fooling herself to believe she had it all under control.
She also knew that once down there, it wasn’t the plateau at all. In fact, it had seemed more like a tiny slice of an entire world, not ours, and so ancient as to be unrecognizable to tiny, soft, and modern creatures like us.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, would everyone be ready for a fast disembark when we hit the ground?” Drake said. “We don’t know what we might encounter, but as we’ll be coming down big and slow, if anything looks up, we might be perceived as some sort of big fat bird coming in to roost.”
“You mean like something’s big fat dinner?” Camilla asked.
Drake just shrugged, but Emma knew everyone got the point. Backpacks were checked, loaded, and zipped. The civilians’ weapons were holstered and anything not secured was strapped down. The soldiers rechecked their weapons and held them ready.
The balloon approached the oily film-like layer that almost seemed like a cap over the land below, and as the basket touched it, it actually slowed in the air as though it was a type of membrane. Helen reached over and stuck a hand out as the basket settled through it like they were sinking into it.
“It’s sort of like…thick oil. But it’s dry.” She wiggled her fingers in the air as the basket eased down through the layer, a little like it had landed on the ocean and was now slowly sinking.
“More like some sort of distortion layer,” Emma said. “Between our time and theirs.”
Helen frowned as she leaned over. “I can hear something.”
The balloon settled further down into the layer by another few feet.
“Sort of like, um, whistling.” Helen looked up. “Or howling.”
“Howling?” Drake’s eyes widened. “Wind.”
They dropped all the way through the membrane layer, and then all hell broke loose.
The balloon and basket were grabbed by hurricane-force winds that acted like a mighty hand pulling and tearing at them. Immediately, the bag of the balloon was dragged down, and the entire basket went sideways. Bodies slid and crashed to the side, and equipment also skidded, smashing into them and also some bouncing and then disappearing over the side railing.
Juan yelled in despair as his camera case bounced once, twice, and then sailed into space.
“Hang on!” Drake yelled over the roar of the wind.
Emma screwed her eyes to slits and hung onto one of the basket’s ropes as she tried to remain upright. The wind was like a living thing; it was loud, had a physical presence, and seemed goddamn angry.
It became obvious that the strange distortion effect over the land not only separated the two worlds, but also had a layer of super agitated air between them, like the very planes of reality were rebelling against each other.
In the next second, Andy lost his grip on the basket’s railing, fell, and then slid into Fergus’ legs, knocking him over. As the soldier’s hands were knocked away from the burner, the jet shot up to its maximum three-foot flame.
The envelope of the balloon was treated with significant flame retardant, so they didn’t catch fire like the Hindenburg Airship. But that doesn’t mean they can’t burn—they can, but instead of catching fire, they melt, and to Emma’s horror, she watched as a four-foot hole was seared through the side of the balloon.
Gas heaved out, and the bag began to rapidly deflate as the w
ind continued to pummel the huge floating sack, squeezing even more of the hot air from it.
The balloon immediately dropped a hundred feet, as people yelled, screamed, and tried to hang on. Eventually, the balancing act between lighter-than-air travel, and gravity, is always won by gravity.
The upside was they passed out of the wind agitation layer, but they were coming down now at a rate of about 10 miles per hour, and as the balloon continued to deflate, they accelerated, going from balloon rate, to parachute rate, to falling at a rate that was going to mean serious injury, or death.
Drake struggled to his feet. He dragged himself to the basket’s edge and peered over.
“Coming down…!” and then, “…on water!”
Oh shit, no, Emma thought.
“Bra-aaace!” The big man bent his knees.
The basket struck hard, and it was like a bomb going off, as they were all crushed flat to the bottom of the basket.
And they bounced. Bodies, equipment and supplies lifted and dropped again. Juan, who could only hold on with one arm, landed on top of Emma and his elbow smashed her lip, cutting it.
They were all thrown to one side of the large basket, and it immediately caused it to tip. Water began to pour over the side as they settled.
Emma pushed the big Venezuelan off and climbed to her feet. They were toward the middle of a lake, the lake, and she quickly looked one way, then the other to get her bearings.
“Out, out, out.” She grabbed Juan and dragged him up. “Swim, swim…” She pointed to the closest bank. “Drake, to the shore, there. Fast.”
The soldiers were tossing packs over the side, and also helped in pushing people out. In another few seconds, the basket was inundated and beginning to sink.
She went over the side and found herself next to Drake. “Well, we’re here, and at least we’re alive,” he said glumly.
Emma’s head spun left and right. “We’ve got to get out of the water.”
“We will.” He trod water beside her. “But we need our equipment.”
“No, you don’t understand.” She grabbed at him. “Something…” She coughed out some water. “…lives in here.”
Drake stared for a second or two before he got it. “Jesus Christ; everyone goddamn swim!”
He yelled as he watched the balloon start to sink. “Hurry, get away from the bag when it starts to go down. It’ll snag you and take you with it.”
Drake trod water for a moment as he watched his men set off, pushing packs before them, or stroking one-armed. Andy and Helen were already swimming away strongly. But Camilla was struggling and looked like she barely knew how to keep afloat let alone swim.
Emma headed for her, but Drake headed her off. “I’ll get Camilla, you get to the shore. You’re bleeding. Go.”
She felt her lip, and the sting of the cut there—blood in the water—bad news. She started to swim, now feeling vulnerable in the open lake. The sun shone down strongly, but below her, there was nothing but a deep, dark blackness. Added to that, it was brackish and warm—blood warmth, she thought morbidly.
They were strung out in the water, separated now by a good 100 feet. Some of the soldiers were close to the bank, and in fact, it looked like Brocke had already clambered up and dropped off his package.
She was mid-way. Behind her, the balloon was just a colored lump at water level, already being dragged down by the basket. Debris littered the surface.
Well back, she saw that Drake now had Camilla on his back. The woman had her arms around his neck and the big man breaststroked with her along for the ride.
“Dammit.” Emma hovered in the water. Even further back, Juan splashed, only just staying above the surface. He held his bandaged arm up, as though trying to keep the already-soaked bandages dry. But even from where she floated, she could see that the gauze was leaking red.
“Just damn swim.” She grimaced, and then turned about, indecision wracking her. She was about to try and swim over to get him, when she heard splashing behind her. Emma spun, eyes wide.
Brocke grinned and motioned with his head. “Head in, Emma, I got this.” He winked. “Used to be the state swim champ.”
She felt relieved, and before she could even thank him, the young soldier put his head down and powered on.
“Keep moving!” Drake yelled to her, spitting water as he tried to keep himself and Camilla afloat.
Emma nodded and was about to turn back, when she spotted the large, dark lump on the surface. She felt a shock run right through her body.
She prayed it was something that came down with them and had floated away but knew that was a lie. She froze, and all she could do was watch.
The thing was big, and she had no idea what was still below the surface, but the one thing she was sure of was that thing didn’t come from their balloon and sure as hell wasn’t there when they came down.
Emma continued to stare, and her chin began to tremble even though the water was like a warm bath. Then, to her horror, the small island began to sink, ever so slowly, and just as the lump vanished, it was immediately replaced by the familiar V-shaped water pattern of something moving just beneath the surface. And its destination was clear—straight at Juan.
“He-eeey!”
She forced her body to unlock, and then launched herself high in the water, waving madly to Juan and to Brocke. Everyone else was on the bank now and could only watch. Drake caught up to her and turned.
“It’s going for them,” she spluttered.
Drake pushed the woman off his shoulders and Camilla immediately latched onto Emma. The soldier then dragged his M4 rifle off his back and hung in the water, arms up and the gun pointed.
“Goddamnit, no shot.” He turned to Emma. “Get to the bank, we can’t do shit here.” Then he spun to his remaining men on the water’s edge, yelling so loud it echoed across the lake.
“Give Brocke some cover. We got company.”
*****
It both heard and felt the impact through the water. It sensed the thing that struck was large, so for the first few seconds, it slid below the surface to hide.
The freshwater mosasaur was a smaller variety to its giant sea-going cousins, but was still nearly 40 feet long, squat, and powerful. It had four paddle-like flippers that were the last vestiges of limbs, plus a scythe-like tail akin to that of a dolphin. It was a powerful water hunter, and an expert ambush predator.
It knew that the thing that landed would be either a threat or food. And as no attack came, it decided it might be prey instead of predator.
Then it began to feel the thrashing of smaller creatures on the surface, and gently rose up to investigate. Though the huge lake had many varieties of fish, it supplemented its diet by also taking the land-based animals that wandered too close to the water.
It saw the thrashing bodies, strung out in a long line, leaving a large mass behind. Its long tail thrashed and propelled it forward, with just the top of its head showing. As it approached, it moved into attack-ambush mode and dropped down another foot, so the only telltale sign was a V-shaped wave on the surface as it closed in.
When it was within 50 feet of the creatures, it then smelled the blood in the water—rich, salty, and nutritious. The things were edible. It selected its target and began to accelerate.
*****
Brocke reached Juan and pulled the man close. “Gotcha, big guy. Gotta get outta here now.”
Juan held up his torn hand and arm, still spluttering. “Can’t swim, can’t.”
Brocke grabbed him and immediately saw the idiot had one of his huge cameras still hanging around his neck. He grabbed it and ripped it up and over his head, tossing it over his shoulder where it splashed and vanished.
“Hey.” Juan’s eyes widened.
“Shut up.” Brocke grabbed his shirt. “Listen, there’s something in the lake. You swim, and you don’t look back. Understand.”
“Something in the water?” Juan’s brow furrowed and his head snapped around. “Shi
t.”
Brocke pushed him at the shoreline. “Just swim.”
Juan threw one arm over, and then the other that resulted in a shortened deformed stroke from his wounded arm, but at least he was moving. Brocke hung back for a moment, letting his face sink to nose level and his eyes just on the surface. He looked along its top, scanning about. He couldn’t see anything. He knew that might not be a good thing.
He felt his testicles start to shrivel and knew there was nothing but deep, dark water underneath them.
“Fuck it, I’m outta here.” He started to swim as well.
He kept his head above the water as he stroked this time. He didn’t want to outpace Juan, but he also wanted to see and hear what was going on. Maybe, he hoped, the thing was spending its time investigating the balloon as it sank. Maybe, he hoped even harder, it got caught up in the rigging and was being dragged down to the bottom.
He looked ahead to Juan who was now only 10 feet in front of him. The man’s wounded arm was still bandaged, and the blood that had soaked it had now washed away…into the water.
Please, I hope whatever this thing is, it’s not like a shark who can smell the blood in the water, he prayed.
There was something about being a soldier that had seen active service, and in extreme hot zones, that seemed to heighten the senses to danger; call it a soldier’s sixth sense. And right now, those sensory alarms were screaming in his head.
There was clear and present danger, and a pending attack. Brocke felt a calm come over him and he stopped and trod water, bicycling his legs to keep his upper body above the surface. He drew his M4 from over his shoulder.
He spun, and not six feet away, the thing’s head surfaced. It was like a smooth alligator, but bigger, so much bigger.
From where the eyes sat toward the back of the skull, he could just make out about six feet of snout and jaws. The thing turned a little, regarding him with one large, predatorial eye.
Any normal man would have been frozen in fear or been reduced to a screaming pile of insanity. But instead, Brocke kicked hard in the water and launched himself high. As he lifted, he pointed his weapon and yelled a battle cry that carried right across the lake.