by Adam Carter
Something caught his eye: a familiar blue which seemed to enjoy being abandoned. He frantically tried to remember how to cut the power and slowly eased the copter down to land. The sight of such a large raptor descending would keep the animals at bay, as would the sight of the whirring propeller and the dull hum of the motor. The basket set gently to the ground and Monroe secured the vehicle before throwing his leg over the side and setting foot gingerly back upon solid ground. His legs were slightly shaky, which was to be expected apparently, although he ignored the sensation as he approached the bike.
It was in a terrible state. The wheels were still attached, yet the paintwork had great rents, as though torn by the claws of some mighty beast. The metal was twisted and bent, an entire plate had been torn and crumpled, still hanging loosely and resembling scrunched paper. One of the wing mirrors was shattered, its plastic covering twisted by powerful jaws or hands, while padding had exploded from the seat as though in a valiant attempt to escape its manic assailant.
Monroe could not help but take especial note of the state of the wheels, for neither was punctured. He had thought before that so long as the wheels were attached the bike would still function, but now he was not so certain. When a large theropod tore something apart, he could not say it would ever run again.
There was no sign of Allen, nor was there any blood. He could see the skid-marks where the bike had veered off and surmised that Allen had been surprised by something. Since there was no evidence of the theropod either he could only assume Allen had fled the beast or been devoured.
The thought was not a pleasant one, yet he could not sugar-coat his suppositions. Pretending everything would be all right was not going to do anyone any good, and Allen deserved better than that.
He noticed something else then, a scent upon the wind, and walked slowly towards the mighty woodland. There was something there: an animal lying with its body open to the world. Flies festered the corpse, and he could see tooth- and claw-marks indicative of a carnivore having fed upon it. He could not make out the species of the animal, nor did he want to get close enough to be able to. That it was not Tom Allen was all he cared about.
There was nothing he could accomplish from the ground, so Monroe clambered back into his basket and took to the air once more. It was only as he climbed back to fifty metres that he realised he really had no idea what he was doing. Searching for Allen was all well and good, but he no longer had any clue as to where to search. All he could do was continue and hope he struck lucky, because if there was one thing he had decided it was that he was not about to head back to camp without him.
*
Allen ran. He had never been an especially fit young man, had never bothered with things like gymnasia, but nor had he ever been chased into the woods by a hungry dinosaur. The deltadromeus had come at him in a rage when Allen had fallen from his bike, and he still did not entirely know why. The carnivore had been feasting when it had sighted Allen, which meant it could not see him exclusively as a food source. That it saw him as a threat was a possibility, for he had been fast-moving and noisome, especially once he had crashed, and the fact he had stopped so close to the dinosaur could have been received as a challenge. Having chased him off, however, Allen could not see that the deltadromeus would not have simply returned to its hard-won meal: unlike the triceratops earlier it was not establishing its dominancy or attempting to impress the females of the herd. The only conclusion Allen could really come up with which made any sense at all was that the deltadromeus was curious about him. This strange two-legged creature walking with an upright back had come off a faster-moving body like some high-spirited remora. That a dinosaur could be curious enough to chase him into the woods and still be seeking him out was not something he had ever considered about the creatures; but then perhaps the dinosaurs of Ceres were far more intelligent than anyone had ever believed.
Whatever the reason, all Allen actually cared about was the fact he was still being hounded, and that his pursuer really did not seem to want to surrender.
Initially he had run into the woods because he had not expected such a large creature to be able to give proper chase with all the trees in the way. He was horribly surprised at how swift the thing could be even with the trees hampering its movements, and if Allen had not somehow been able to pour on more speed than he had ever thought himself capable, he could not imagine that he would have survived even this long.
Presently he was hiding behind a tree, desperately trying to catch his breath. He could hear the tread of the deltadromeus close by and could feel its nearness. Its strong lungs released its exhalations as deep sighs, but they were far from mournful wails at its lost prey. The deltadromeus did not for one moment believe it had lost Allen: it knew it just needed to find him. Allen could not help but feel he was attached to the animal by an invisible cord, and that it was sheer impossibility for him to make his break from the creature, no matter how hard he ran.
He felt something brush against the tree behind which he was hiding. He did not know precisely what it was, for he could not bring himself to turn even his eyes in case the great beast recognised the movement. He thought it was the creature’s tail, and feared it was long enough to probe the nearby trees like the feelers of a growing cucumber plant. He wished the creature was only a giant cucumber, for that would solve all his problems, but, closing his eyes and forcing the imagery away, he realised how ludicrous he was being.
If he was going to survive this he needed to focus.
The trees shook fearfully at the sudden bellow of the monster, leaves falling from trembling branches and littering the ground. Small animals exploded from the underbrush and Allen could hear the snapping of mighty jaws and knew the deltadromeus was making only half-hearted attempts to catch them. It was trying to frighten him out of hiding, and Allen wondered what it would do now that it had discovered he was not some scared rabbit willing to leap out of concealment the moment a predator told him to. Perhaps it would think he had escaped already, that he was halfway through the woodland and still running. Perhaps it would just give up and go back to whatever it was it had been eating.
The tree behind him shattered and Allen was thrown forwards, his cover no longer there. He raised an arm as he fell to the floor, but the splintered wood missed him, the heavy branches and leaves thankfully falling at an angle not to pin him. The deltadromeus was revealed behind, standing free and angry, and smugly pleased that it had found its prey with so little effort.
Allen scrabbled to his feet, his boots finding little purchase in the fallen wet leaves, and the deltadromeus lunged for him. Allen rolled to the side, barely evading the serrated teeth, the stench of raw meat washing over his face as he came face to tooth with those bloody jaws. The huge dinosaur snapped at him once more, but Allen scrambled backwards, at last regaining his footing. But he knew that to run would be to die, for he would not be able outrun the creature.
Standing before the thing, he suddenly realised why the creature had been chasing him all this time. It had not been hungry or asserting its authority, or even curious. It was simply playing with him. This was all a game to the animal, for it could have caught him at any time. It was honing its skills, testing this unknown animal to determine whether it could learn anything from it. It was a clever, adaptable animal, and it had just proven its superiority over him.
The deltadromeus yawned wide and roared once more, informing the entire woodland that it was the king here, that this small unknown creature was nothing beside its glory. Allen could not find it in his heart to disagree with such a statement. He had never in his life faced such a situation. He was terrified, his body was petrified, his mind shutting down; but it was more than that. As he stood before the amazing killing machine that was the deltadromeus, he could only marvel at the wonder of such a beast, that nature could have crafted this vision of pure beauty and sent it forth into the world to see what it might accomplish. That millions of years later mankind had taken that creature an
d brought it back made the wonder no less, for life was amazing no matter what form it took.
That was the problem he had always found with archaeology. It dealt with things long dead, while the true beauty was in life. He thought of Sara Garrel then, in his final moments. She was an equally amazing creature of beauty, sent forth into the world, and all people like Allen concentrated on was the dirt around her feet, digging and looking for clues of civilisations long gone. It was a necessary study, he had always known that, but Allen knew he was someone who needed to keep his eyes firmly on the present. It had taken him this long to realise this, and he was only upset it had come all too late.
He vowed if he somehow managed to make it out of this, he would change his life. He would leave the field of archaeology and move into something where his vision could encompass the present and future, and leave the past to the Professor Traverses of the solar system.
And then he had something in his hand. His eyes may have been focused upon the creature, his body may have been frozen in fear, but his fingers had been working the entire time, and had retrieved something from a pocket. The deltadromeus may have been his physical superior, but there was nothing which could ever compare to the human mind.
He held the torch up and flicked it on. The deltadromeus paused as the light shone directly in its eye. It shook its head, trying to avoid the glint, but Allen kept the beam focused. The creature grew angry, snapping down at him, but Allen leapt aside and shone the light in its other eye. He was under no illusion that the thing was now blinded, but it would certainly be blinking spots from its eyes for at least a second, and that enabled him to turn and beat a hasty retreat into the trees.
Behind him he heard the raging bellow of the monster, and the steady thump of its powerful feet giving chase. Allen knew the game was over, that the creature was through training itself and was now moving in for the kill.
It seemed the deltadromeus disagreed with his new philosophy: it was far more interested in Allen being dead than alive.
CHAPTER TEN
She had a desperate urge to explore the remainder of the temple, yet Garrel knew she had placed Allen in danger by contacting him. He took precedence, there was no question of that. Why she was lingering then, she could not say, or did not want to. She liked to think she was searching the temple for something she might be able to use, for she still had no means back to the surface, yet the truth was plainer. She had never become involved in the Ceres debate, yet here was concrete evidence that people had been here before, and recently. She could only imagine what secrets they had uncovered, and if they approached it from a religious perspective they may have found some answers Travers could not.
The answers, however, were not worth Allen’s life. She knew it was guilt that kept her at the temple. She had been born to a religious family and had been raised to respect her deity, but she had never been active in her religion. It had always been something in the back of her mind, yet nothing she had ever acted upon. And here was her chance to atone for that, to find her answers and make up for all that lost time.
But Tom Allen was still on the surface, needing her help.
Resolving herself to a decision, Garrel ignored all the equipment, all the potential clues, and instead pulled open every door she came to as quickly as she could, ignoring anything which would not get her to the surface.
Then she opened one door and found she was in a large circular chamber without any form of ceiling. Within the centre of the chamber there was a strange tube-like contraption, around two metres tall and half a metre wide. What it could have been was not obvious, although as she turned her gaze skyward she could see a pinprick of light in the rocky ceiling high above. Now some of the temple’s lights were on she found she could see a portion of the surrounding rocks, and they rose to perhaps sixty metres. But she could still see that pinprick and knew it led to the surface.
Garrel walked to the tube, running her hand along its surface. It was transparent and empty, but she was not surprised when she found a catch which released a door. Looking skyward once more, she could not say the light from the surface was entirely aligned with the tube, but she had a pretty good idea of what would happen were she to get inside. It was a risk, but it was her only chance of getting to the surface in a hurry. If she explored the temple fully she might be able to find another means to the surface, but by then she would have lost too much time.
Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Garrel stepped inside the tube and closed the door behind her. It was confining in such a tight space, and the air was staler than that of the building, but Garrel knew she would not be in there long, whatever happened. She could find no controls, although as she looked down realised there were pressure points upon the floor. Placing her foot upon one, she pressed and prayed.
The tube shot upwards and she could see the temple blurring past her. Her entire body tensed, knowing if it was not properly aligned she would slam straight into the rock and obliterate herself. She looked up, watching the rock streaking towards her, and the hole, so small above, blazed into life as she slammed into the rock, shooting through and exploding into the light of the outside world.
The tube stopped and Garrel collapsed against the door, forcing it open and stumbling out. She landed upon rocky ground, breathing heavily and feeling her entire body shake. When she was able to control herself she looked back to see the tube still there, and carefully she closed the door. With any luck it would stay there until the pressure pad was activated once more and it would descend. She could not see it would have been the only means to get to the temple, for the tube would only take one person at a time, and there was no way to send it back up empty to fetch someone else. Unless the temple was used by only one person, there had to have been another way in.
Now she was back in the real world she began to question why she kept referring to it as a temple. It was a research centre which held religious iconography, but that did not necessarily make it a temple. Perhaps she was just placing too much faith in what she had found, or perhaps she wanted to make amends far more than she realised.
But all that could wait. She was back on the surface and needed to find Allen. Of course, she had no idea where he might have been, so clambered up the rocks for a better view. She could see the edge of the woodland and from this worked out where the camp would lie. Assuming Allen was anywhere near the camp was ludicrous, yet she had to begin somewhere and if she was headed back to camp she could liaise with Travers and Monroe and be filled in on anything she had missed. Then she would take the copter and perform a detailed search of the local land.
It was only half a plan, for she would much rather have been able to head straight for Allen, but it was all she had to work with. So Garrel started walking.
Ten minutes passed before she saw something in the air and wished she wasn’t wandering over such rocky ground. Exposed as she was, if some aerial predator had labelled her for dinner, she would have no choice but to fight the thing. She did not know much about prehistoric air monsters but could not simply assume they only ate fish. The more she stared, however, the stranger the image became to her eyes, and at last she recognised the familiar shape and knew nature could never have crafted something so bizarre.
Leaping, waving her arms, Garrel attempted to gain the attention of the thing, but she knew from past experience in flying vehicles how difficult it was to spot something on the ground. Everyone could see the thing in the air, but even an eagle-eyed pilot could well miss someone on the ground if they were looking in the other direction.
Wishing she had managed to find something useful in the temple, or that she had not lost her gun, Garrel patted herself down in search of something she might be able to use. She needed to signal the copter and a flare would have been nice, but she had as much chance of producing a flare as she had sprouting a pair of wings. Her fingers closed about her radio, which was about all she had left on her. Radios of course were generally useless on Ceres, but since the c
opter was in the air there was a possibility she might get through. It was not likely, but as she watched the copter moving away from her she knew she had no other option.
Thumbing the radio, she called into it, depressing the button which would allow the other party to speak. All she received was static, but she tried again, her eyes locked upon the copter. It was not receding any more, seemed to be sweeping the land, and she tried the radio once more, waving her arms as she did so.
The copter turned and headed her way. Garrel yelped with glee, leaping and exhausting herself to make sure the pilot could see her. The vehicle grew as it approached, and she waited eagerly while it landed. She was somewhat surprised to find Professor Monroe turning off the engine and leaning over the basket.
“I was wondering why my radio was suddenly spouting out static,” he said. “I figured it had to mean someone was trying to contact me.”
It seemed, Garrel thought, that even a lack of communication could also be used for communication, but there was a more pressing lack of communication she had to deal with.
“I thought I told you to stay at the camp,” she said.
“You’re welcome.”
“Where’s Tom?”
“I don’t know.” Monroe became at once concerned. “I found the wreck of the bike. It had been clawed and bitten by something large.”
Garrel’s heart sank. “Was there much blood?”
“None.”
That did not mean much. If the carnivore was large enough it could have taken Allen in one bite. Or maybe he had managed to run for a while before it had caught up to him and torn him apart.
“The bike was close to the woods,” Monroe continued. “There was a carcass close by.”
“Dinosaur?”
“I think so. Something large anyway.”
“So you got to see your dinosaur at last, Prof. Hope it was worth it.”