The Universe Next Door: A Jake Corby Sci-Fi Thriller (Jake Corby Series Book 3)

by Al Macy

  When I stood, the world spun and the ground flew up and smashed me in the face.

  * * *

  I lay in the debris bed, stripped to my underwear but sweating. Daylight filtered through the brush that covered the cave entrance.

  “Marie?”

  Nothing.

  “Boonie?” I started to get up, but a wave of nausea hit me and my head pounded. I lay back down and closed my eyes. When I opened them, Marie kneeled by my side, holding my soaking-wet t-shirt against my forehead.

  “Welcome back. How are you feeling?”

  The air I sucked in through my chapped lips burned all the way down to my lungs. “What happened?”

  “You passed out after dinner a few days ago.”

  “A few days? Days?”

  She nodded. “You’ve been wicked sick. I don’t know if it was from the bite on your ear or something you ate. I was pretty sure you were going to die. I’ve been feeding you broth. Can you drink some now?”

  “Broth? Where’d you get that?”

  Marie chuckled. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “Yes.”

  “Boonie killed some ratlike creatures. I cooked them on a stick over the fire—quite good, actually. Then I cut up the offal and the meat and soaked it in—”

  “Offal? Isn’t that feces?”

  She laughed. “No. Offal is the liver and other organs. It’s the stuff that ‘falls off’ the carcass when you butcher it. Off fall.”

  “How did you soak it?”

  “In your shoes.”

  “Oh, no!” I’d had those shoes for years. “So, rat entrails soaked in cold water in an old shoe.”

  “Warm water. I was able to put the shoe close to the fire.”

  “How does it taste?”

  “You tell me. I sure as hell haven’t tried any.” She opened her mouth and put a finger in, making gagging noises.

  It tasted as bad as I’d have expected, and I declared myself ready for solid food. I crawled out of the cave, pausing a few times to let the nausea and dizziness pass.

  I complimented Marie on her clever door. It was a square lattice of branches firmly lashed together with her homemade rope. Two feet on a side, it fit neatly into the logs that disguised the front of our residence.

  Marie had organized the area in front of the cave. Coals glowed from the bottom of a well-designed fire pit, and one of my shoes had a rock between it and the fire. Coils of rope leaned against a tree.

  “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

  Boonie bounded out of the bushes carrying what I’d describe as a flightless turkey. More like a dinosaur than a bird, really. Marie and I made a big fuss over Boonie, rewarding him for his lifesaving behavior.

  The timing couldn’t have been better. I needed some meat to get stronger, and this would make a feast. Marie set to butchering it while I rested. The rope that had held my key chain was now fastened to the Leatherman tool, with the other end clipped onto her belt.

  I sat, petting Boondoggle. “You haven’t seen any large meat-eating dinosaurs, or bears, or big cats? I think that’s our biggest worry right now.”

  “I haven’t, but top-level predators are usually scarce.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “An individual mountain lion’s range can be over three hundred square miles.” She skewered one of the huge drumsticks onto a green stick she’d prepared ahead of time.

  “So, you’re saying they might be here, but they just haven’t happened to stop by in our neighborhood.”

  “Right, but—”

  A roar made me jump out my skin. Boonie popped up so fast he knocked me in the jaw. A sonic boom. It reminded me of watching the Blue Angels perform over San Francisco Bay. One plane had flown in over the Golden Gate Bridge, and the sound hit all at once.

  This was even more dramatic. I caught a flash of the aircraft across the valley. Brilliant blue, it was like no airplane I’d ever seen. My glimpse was so brief. Was it triangular?

  * * *

  That night, we lay in our debris beds going over strategy, ordering our priorities. I was still too weak to do much, so Marie had cleaned up the cave, getting rid of the sick-room smell. By adding some anise branches to the front wall, the earthy smell was overlaid with a licorice scent. Maybe it would disguise our tasty-defenseless-creature odor, too.

  We didn’t kid ourselves that the wall could keep bears, lions, or dinosaurs out, but perhaps it could slow them down.

  She’d set up two beds, essentially big piles of leaves, pine needles, and moss. She and Boonie slept in one and I in the other. She needed the extra warmth. We were heading into summer, but when it got colder, we planned to all huddle together in one bed.

  I stared at the ceiling of our cave. “I’m guessing the civilization that built those aircraft transported us here. Hoping, anyway.”

  Marie had fashioned a candle with fat from the turkey thing, a carved-out piece of wood, and a length of homemade string. It sputtered away on a rock shelf. More mad Girl Scout skills from the forties.

  “Good guess, but why transport us here? Why not to some chamber in a laboratory? Maybe it was a natural phenomenon.”

  “Do we both agree we should attract their attention?” I asked. “Because if I didn’t care about getting back to Charli and Sophia, I could actually imagine living out my life here. Maybe it would be better to stay under their radar.”

  “Living here with your grandmother-in-law.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “That’s the introvert in you talking, Jake. Wait until I’m gone, and you’ll be singing a different tune. But it doesn’t matter, because you do care about them.” Her voice was fading. We’d both be asleep soon.

  “Yes, very much. So we should signal those planes.”

  “And how do we do that?” Marie asked.

  “I’ve got an idea.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The next morning, we hiked to the grassy meadow by the river. Boonie showed no ill effects from the croc attack, wagging his tail and bouncing around on the trail. His glee helped us view the world through his eyes: a crisp day, full of promise.

  Our turkey-thing dinner had done wonders, but I still felt as if I were slogging through molasses. I stopped twice to sit on a log and rest. Words from nature shows echoed in my head: Wily predators pick off the weak and injured members of the herd. In other words, me.

  Under a dazzling sky, we walked down the hill along animal trails. A stiff breeze brought us the scent of seaweed and worked at dismantling the fog that obscured the mouth of the Yurok River. The chattering of birds never stopped. At one point, it was so loud we had to yell to one another to be heard. Dense flocks surged over the valley, and we occasionally stopped to watch the flowing patterns in the sky.

  Boonie ran ahead, charging into the underbrush, chasing small animals, and doubling back. He never got too far away. I admired my new-and-improved stick. It had a heavy end for bashing and a sharpened end for stabbing.

  Back in our world, an outing like this would include a bottle of wine and a picnic basket filled with sandwiches, cheese, and chocolates. We’d spread out a thick wool blanket, and after lunch I might lie back with my head in Charli’s lap while Marie recounted adventures from her childhood. Sophia might throw a slobbery tennis ball for Boonie, occasionally faking him out by only pretending to throw it.

  But here in dino-land, we emerged from the forest and chose a location for our crop circle, halfway across the meadow. The radius would be around thirty feet, since that was how much rope we had. Marie tied one end to her belt loop, and I sat holding the other end, at the center of the circle.

  Marie placed a four-foot stick, like a walking stick, on the ground. I’d tied a length of rope to each end. Putting her foot on the stick, she flattened the grass, then lifted it with the two lengths of rope, moving it ahead a foot or two. She repeated this over and over, making her way around the perfect circle.

  Once that was done, we both work
ed at mashing down the grass within the perimeter. It was tedious, but given the fresh air, the warm sun on our backs, and the astounding scenery, the work went quickly.

  We stopped for lunch, sitting together in companionable silence, eating meat left over from the previous night’s feast and watching the peaceful apatosaurs grazing in the distance. Occasional headshakes needed no translation—our situation was crazy weird.

  With the addition of some blackberries harvested along the path, we had the otherworld counterpart to turkey leftovers with cranberry sauce. I got stronger by the hour.

  We finished by midafternoon and stood back, admiring our work, trying to picture the crop circle from the sky.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  Marie shrugged. “Not as dramatic as a circle made in a field of tall wheat, but it might stand out.”

  “Right. Maybe, just maybe, a passenger in one of those high-flying airliners will look out the window and say, ‘Hey, what’s that?’ or the pilot of that supersonic thing will notice it.”

  “Supersonic aircraft and dinosaurs.” Marie shook her head.

  We walked the short distance to our muddy inlet to harvest another bunch of clams. Marie waded in. Now knowing which tasted best, she examined each, tossing the rejects over her shoulder. Boonie lay sleeping in the sun, and I stood guard while she rooted around in the mud and clay. I swiveled my head this way and that, like a secret service agent scanning for threats in a crowd.

  “Look what I found.” Marie held up a clump of whitish clay. “I can make bowls out of this stuff, and we can put them in the fire. We’ll then have pots we can use to boil water. We can make all kinds of stews and—hey, look.” She pointed.

  I spun around. Four of the kangaroo-like animals stood only twenty feet away, watching us. With my movement, they hooted and bounded away a few feet but stopped and turned to gaze at us some more. The resemblance to kangaroos was striking. The heads were lizard-like, but thick fur covered the rest of their bodies.

  When moving slowly, they used their heavy tails as a fifth leg. That is, they’d support themselves with the front legs and tail while they moved their hind legs forward. When moving fast, they’d hop with their powerful hind legs alone.

  The hoots woke Boonie, who jumped up and took off after them. He couldn’t match their speed, and Marie and I got a good laugh watching him chase first one animal and then the next. He came back with his tongue hanging out, proud and happy.

  When I walked over to check the clams Marie had placed in the t-shirt, a snake flew out of the grass, his jaws wide open. I jerked my leg back, and it missed by an inch. I tried to stomp on its head, but it disappeared in the tall grass.

  Energy surged through my body. “Did you see that?”

  “Close call.” Marie added her final handful of clams to the pile on my t-shirt.

  Did nothing surprise her? Maybe there was something missing in her brain. “I could have died if he’d gotten me.”

  “Yes, but he didn’t. So, it was a good reminder to remain on our guard.”

  “Right.” We weren’t in some sterilized theme park. I checked the grass for other snakes. “But what an adrenaline power boost. Now I understand how danger junkies feel.”

  Back at the homestead, a chilling fog blew through camp. I thought about the fur of the roos as I placed the clams and mussels in the fire. Boonie gnawed on yet another bone.

  Marie kneeled in front of a flat rock, working with the clay she’d harvested. “I hate to say it, but I could get used to this.”

  “Getting in touch with your inner cavewoman?”

  “Exactly. There’s a deep-down, primal pleasure in working hard, surviving the day. This must appeal to you, right? No dinner parties.”

  “Charli told you about my introvert side?”

  Marie laughed. “No, you talked about it in your speech at the wedding. Remember?”

  I nodded. “Right.” I’d cut up a pretend Introverts Anonymous card. Got big laughs. Of course, everyone was drunk.

  Our shellfish meal tasted like something you’d get at an upscale oyster bar. Marie had gathered some wild onions on the way back to camp, and they added spice to the seafood in this new, low-salt world.

  After dinner, we built up the fire and sat staring into it. Surprisingly entertaining, we called it our outback TV.

  I threw on a new log. “Tell me about your time as sheriff.”

  Two years earlier, Earth was visited by a solitary alien known as Cronkite. To “cull” the human herd, he sprayed the planet with nanobots that killed five billion humans—turning them all into dry sponges.

  The sheriff and deputies in Marie’s small town of Lipton, Maine, died, and Marie reluctantly took over. Charli told me Marie had done a great job in a difficult situation.

  She shrugged. “It had its moments.” She related a few funny stories.

  We sat in an easy silence in the dark, smelling the woodsmoke and listening to insects in the forest.

  “And now,” she said, “the human population is down to two. For now.”

  “For … what did you say?”

  Marie chuckled. “Just seeing if you were still awake.”

  * * *

  Two weeks passed, and nothing. No response to our crop circle. Our hope of returning to our world dwindled, and we were indeed getting used to our new life. Our endless speculation about what had happened grew tiresome.

  I dropped into an occasional funk over the hopeless situation, but Marie’s play-the-cards-you’re-dealt attitude always pulled me out of it.

  We’d yet to see a large meat-eating predator—only the small croc-monster that almost got Boonie. We had a few more evening visits from the noisy breather who’d come by the cave on that first night, but it never tried to get in.

  I was ready to try a new strategy for killing one of the man-sized roos. We needed their pelts to keep us warm. The skins would be the perfect addition to our beds, and Marie explained how she could make coats out of their hides.

  I’d fashioned my best spear yet, with good balance and a sturdy, sharp point. I’d tried ambushing and running down the roos, but they were just too damn fast. They never traveled alone, and their alarm calls kept me from creeping up on them.

  The solution came to me in a dream. I stood with my eyes closed on the 50-yard line of a football field. A roo snuck up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder. I turned slowly and saw the face of a cat. It whispered, “Curiosity killed the cat.” I jolted awake. Bingo. I’d been doing it all wrong. They were curious. I should let them come to me.

  I had a momentary twinge about killing those somewhat-cute creatures, but I pushed that thought from my mind. I was a caveman in a dino-eat-dino world. We headed down to the meadow, and I tried out my new strategy.

  I walked halfway across the grassland between the forest and the river. A herd of roos grazed fifty yards to my left. I faced the forest, where Marie sat, busy making rope. Boonie lay next to her, his ears erect, watching intently. I stood and held my spear on my shoulder, like an Olympic statue. I watched Marie, and she watched me, ready to signal if anything approached. Good thing, since I was blind in my right eye.

  I thought about the bond we shared. It was forged in the fire of an impossible situation, like the bond between squad members in war. Along with Boonie, we were the three musketeers. One for all and all for one.

  Thirty minutes passed. My arm grew tired. Should I give up? Then, Marie pointed a finger over to my left side. I turned my head a millimeter at a time. There they were. Four roos, advancing in their peculiar five-legged gait. Forelegs and tail, hind legs, forelegs and tail. Then they stood tall, about my height, watching.

  Their lizard heads twitched this way and that, curiosity obviously warring with fear. Fifteen feet away, they kept approaching. I moved my eyes to check on Boonie. Marie held her hand on his head, and he remained in down-stay, probably quivering with pent-up desire.

  Only ten feet away now, one roo was bolder than the others
. I looked at its feet. One big claw, shaped like a curved knife, pointed up in the air. Had I miscalculated? With one powerful kick, that claw could eviscerate me. A whine from Boonie drifted across the field.

  The bold one kept coming. It was behind me and to one side—the side with my good eye. Like a gymnast visualizing a routine, I mentally rehearsed my movements, imagining how each muscle contraction would feel.

  It stood tall, cocking its head, barely three feet away.

  Now! Rotating, I bent my knees, whipping the spear around and down. The roo’s companions hooted. Everything happened in slow motion.

  Its body dropped down along with mine, preparing for that explosive jump that would take it out of range. Too late.

  Mr. Curious was on the upswing when my spear plunged into its belly. I’d aimed for the heart as if I knew where that would be, but this would work. I put my whole weight into it, and the spear sunk in deeply. I followed through, falling to the ground. Marie yelled, “Go!” and Boonie streaked across the field.

  I tried to hold on to the spear, but it slipped from my hand, and the roo bounded away. Confused, it headed straight toward the river, as if planning to dive in.

  Each hop was less energetic than the last. At the apex of its third bounce, yards from the river, Boonie leaped onto its back and clamped his jaws on its neck. The two of them came crashing down. I sprinted over and pushed the spear farther in. It was over. The creature convulsed a few times and then lay still.

  All right. This was even better than creating fire. We could survive here. A few more of those and we’d be warm and cozy at night. I stroked the fur. As thick and soft as I’d pictured.

  Marie walked over with a smile on her face. “Well, caveman, I guess you—” She froze. “Jake, behind you!”

  I spun around. A monster stood, dripping, not ten feet away. At least seven feet long, it held its massive mouth slightly open, as if laughing. It resembled a crocodile in basic shape but had only two legs, centered under its mass. Rather than coming out to the side like those of a normal croc, its hips were underneath, as on a tyrannosaurus.