by Brian King
“Alright, let’s get some breakfast,” I said as I got to my feet.
It bugged me that we had to get into the water to jab a spear at the fish. Fishing with hand grenades would be more appropriate for this world. Perhaps with a little time, we could make a fishing pole, string together a net, or figure out how to create one of those fish basket things I’d seen on those survival shows. Could a bow and arrow be used for fishing? Anything but stepping into the same water with prehistoric crocodiles.
Thankfully the water was shallow enough we could see the shapes of fish pretty easily and confirm there were no big predators in our cozy cove.
“I’ll stand over there, and we’ll work toward each other,” Sheela said as she walked down the shore a little way. She went waist-deep into the water with a small splashing sound that didn't seem to startle any of the fish. I did my best to be equally stealthy and got to about the same depth in the warm water, but had to move a few steps in her direction to get out of the shallows. When we were both in position, I gave her a thumbs-up, and she pointed down to let me know she was ready.
She held her spear in a cocked throwing position and then froze like a statue. I mirrored her and watched the bottom for movement.
Our statuesque fishing stance dragged onto minutes as we were waiting for one of the fishes to swim near us. Across the lake, a mixed herd of duck-billed human-sized dinosaurs tugged at leaves, rolled in the mud, and warily poked their heads in the water. Another group of elephant-sized dinos with funny-shaped tubular crests splashed at the water’s edge like kids at the beach. They were at least two hundred yards away, so I didn’t think they could see us, but I stayed alert just in case.
I finally saw movement below me. A big fat fish flashed its reflective scales under the sunlight, and I got a good look at it. Then I jabbed my spear into the three-foot-deep water and aimed for that shimmer.
“Holy shit. I hit something,” I said, almost at a shout.
I pulled up a dinner plate sized light-colored fish that had huge teeth. My first impression was that I’d caught a piranha, and I almost dashed out of the water. Didn’t they travel in schools? Was I being surrounded by others? Would they be drawn by the blood of their own kind?
“Are these what’s in the lake?” I asked while pushing back the irrational fear. We’d been fine the whole time, and Sheela said nothing about flesh-eating fish.
“Yes. They are common. There are some reddish striped fish that I have caught also, but those are more common in our little stream,” she replied.
“Do they all have teeth like this?” The fish I held had a mouth full of razors a lot like Heracula’s knife-like set. As daunting as the teeth were, the rest of the fish was pretty ordinary. It reminded me of those decorative fish tank species that were as tall as they were long. This one was about a foot long and had some meat to it. Definitely not a catch and release.
I had to get out of the water to set it down. I tore a big leaf off one of the nearby plants and used it as a drop cloth. The spear had gone in almost right smack in the middle, and the wound was now a bloody mess. Since I didn’t have a knife or sharp rock handy to kill the fish, I used the spear again to end its suffering.
“First blood,” I said to Sheela, repeating a phrase I’d heard many times in video games.
As I walked back into the water, Sheela speared her own fish. It was one of the red kind and was about twice as long as mine, but a lot thinner. She came out of the water and put hers next to mine. I ignored her wet body while I set up for my next attempt. Fishing was serious business, and I wanted to prove my first catch wasn’t a fluke.
“Second blood,” she replied as she humanely dispatched it, perhaps not understanding my words.
My beginner’s luck ended after the first fish. I made several thrusts to hit the movements below me, but I missed each time. Sheela, on the other hand, landed four more of the white fish in the next half hour.
“I think we have enough to head back, we still have a lot of shit to work on. What do you think?” I reassured myself I wasn’t a sore loser. Sheela didn’t even know I was trying to beat her. We had plenty of fish for this outing, and we had to get back. On our next trip, I would let her do the fishing while I did one of my other tasks.
“I am ready, yes,” she said in a hushed voice. I could tell she was stalking another fish, so I didn’t push her.
“I’ll get the clay,” I replied. That would be the easiest assignment of the morning. The whole cove was nothing but red clay dirt and mud.
I crouched by the pile of fish and tipped over the empty food pot. It was easy to see the pot came from this spot, since the red dirt of the shore matched it exactly. I used my hands to scoop in some clay-mud and pack it to the brim so it looked a lot like a flower pot filled with soil. Eventually, we could make a shitload of these pots to grow our own food, and another big problem would be solved. I was excited at having thought of one more tech advancement, but we were a long way from those technological developments. Deep down I guess I hoped Trel was right, and help would soon be here. But I believed Sheela even more; we had to plan as if rescue was never coming.
Sheela made a grunting sound as she speared another fish. I watched her lift the white shark-mouthed catch out of the water and marveled again at her beautiful fuzzy body.
“Gee. You caught another,” I said with playful sarcasm as she approached. “I think it’s safe to say you’re the master fisherwoman in our tribe. Give me that fish, and I’ll string all of them to this cord so we can carry them.” I pulled the rope from my pocket and once again avoided looking at her soaking bikini bottom.
She held her catch so I could pull it off her spear, and then I got busy winding the rope through the gills of all six of the dead fish. It wasn’t very pretty, and might attract bloodthirsty predators, but there was no other way.
“Can you grab some water?” I said while concentrating on my project. All I had to do was tie it off, and we were ready. “I want to--”
A powerful dinosaur roar shook my bones and almost made me drop the fish rope.
“I vote we leave right this second,” I urged as I fumbled with the finished cord. All the fish slid down the line, so they sat at the bottom, and the looped rope was perfect to put my arm through so I could sling the fish over my shoulder.
I felt as much as heard the next few roars. They weren’t the friendly honks and horseplay of the dinosaurs across the lake. The bellows were throaty and commanding like from a Tyrannosaurus Rex, at least as I knew it from television. There was more than one, but less than a hundred.
“Agreed,” Sheela said in a hushed voice.
We were faced with a new problem. We now had two pots to carry along with our spears and the fish. It was a classic loadout problem for me to solve, but it wasn’t really that difficult, even under pressure.
“I’ll carry both pots,” I said to Sheela as she lifted the full water pot up from the bank. “So you can carry both spears.”
“Where is your spear?” she asked as she set the water pot on top of the one I’d filled with clay.
“What the?” I scanned the shore and didn’t see my weapon. I knew it was close because I’d just had it, but so were giant dinos.
“Leave it. We have to go. Now!” I tried to sound confident, rather than panicky, but I was scared shitless.
In five seconds I had the water pot balanced on top of the other one and then lifted them both from the ground. The stack seemed stable, and I nodded to Sheela. Then we jogged as fast as I could manage without spilling the water. We headed into the trees back toward our cave and away from the sound of the roaring dinosaurs.
I tried my hardest to keep up, but the best I could manage for a long period was a fast walk. Sheela stayed within eyesight but went ahead a bit to ensure there weren’t predators lying in wait. I caught up with her while she looked at the jungle behind us with her spear raised in throwing position.
“Oh, shit. What do you see?” I whispered as I wa
ited next to her. The jungle was so thick we couldn’t see much farther than the distance of a good spear throw, so I expected a toss at any second.
The roaring and commotion of giant footsteps kept getting louder. It was obvious that the massive creatures were getting closer, and my brain started pumping even more adrenaline through my muscles.
“I thought I saw movement. We must run.” Despite everything, she kept her cool and spoke in her usual dry, Aussie voice.
“Just go,” I said with a massive effort to be level-headed as well. “I won’t lose you.”
She led us forward, and I almost managed to run. I was already in need of a short rest to catch my breath, but I ignored the pain. It pissed me off my physical conditioning was so lame.
I really hoped my lack of fitness wasn’t about to get me killed.
The cracks and chaos of falling trees and breaking branches rumbled from the surrounding jungle.
“Fuck! That was close,” I shouted, but then I realized we were trying to be stealthy, and I shut my mouth with a snap.
Sheela was only a little ways ahead, and I did my best to keep up. While I fast-walked, a flock of tiny red birds got spooked out of the dense cover to my right. One of them turned and pecked at my fish for a few seconds but then flew on.
They were fleeing from something that had scared them.
A moment later I was passed by a large four-legged animal barking and yipping kind of like a dog. It sported wooly gray fur with big black dots all over. Its whip-like tail clipped my right knee as it shot by, though it didn’t even give me a sideways glance before it hopped over a downed tree and disappeared.
“We must hurry,” Sheela said with more desperation in her voice than in her previous instructions. “There is an apex predator coming. Be prepared to drop the pots and run if you need to.”
Fuck. She didn’t have to tell me to run, but I didn’t want to drop anything we’d worked for. We’d just have to come back for it or make replacements, which would put us even further behind schedule.
“Say no more,” I replied in a determined voice.
She nodded grimly and led us into the vines and undergrowth of the jungle. I fast-walked a short ways and ran into her at the edge of a large creek.
“This is the stream that goes through our redwood forest, Victor. This way.” She pointed upstream and led the way ahead of me again.
A long, primal rumble from close behind almost made me jump out of my boots.
I thought about dumping all my shit, but I resolved to hold on to it until the last second. I pushed myself and walk-jogged behind Sheela on what looked like a game trail next to the stream. We hadn’t gone far on the path when a small tree fell over a few yards to my right. An honest-to-god triceratops plowed it over and ran almost right into me.
“Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Run, Sheela!” I yelled as I skidded to a halt before it hit me.
It was as big as a Mack truck and sported two long horns above its eyes and a shorter one on its nose. The giant crest behind its head was colored red and orange, like plumage behind a peacock. I wasn’t sure it even saw me, but it did see the stream. A moment before he squashed me, the trike turned on the game trail and lumbered on all fours behind Sheela.
I got moving again just as another dino bolted out of the undergrowth. It looked like a small ostrich, with black feathers and a long black neck. The head was distinctly lizard-like and hung low to the ground as its gangly pair of legs pumped hard to vacate the jungle. It missed me by a few feet and shot out into the stream without the slightest effort to slow down. I didn’t watch it long, but it crossed the water and disappeared into the leaves on the far bank.
Sheela and I followed the game trail for a few more minutes. Spooked wildlife ran, flew, and hopped in the dense jungle all around us. Most were smaller lizards, birds, and rodents instead of proper dinosaurs. The exceptions were the growing number of trikes running by. The sounds of pursuit chased all of us along the stream and toward the redwood forest.
“These animals know what’s coming,” she said when I caught up to her next to a small sequoia.
A gut-shattering roar followed her words and several similar yells answered from the edge of the jungle. I associated the sounds with dinosaurs fighting each other, and the screams and counter-screams were deafening. More of the trikes came running out of the thicker jungle like they’d been kicked into overdrive.
“Shit. Watch out!” I shouted.
We both scrambled to the backside of our tree as several trikes ran by. Some of them turned their horns in our direction as if to dare us to try to stop them. The grim sounds of battle probably meant some of their number were getting left behind.
“We should follow them,” I suggested when my breathing allowed. “Safety in numbers,” I added as I fumbled with the pots to get them to line up.
“I will go first,” Sheela replied. She pushed off from the tree after she looked toward the thunderous commotion behind us. I looked back there, too, but only saw green foliage. The fight seemed to be just beyond what we could see through the leaves, but that was very close, and the vibration of the bellows rattled my ribs.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” I repeated as I got moving again. I had the distinct impression I was the last zebra in the herd, and the “lion” was hiding behind the thin curtain of green leaves.
My legs were going numb with terror, but I still pushed them to run faster.
Another series of howls ripped through the forest behind me, but they soon became a painful-sounding screech and wail. The noise somehow caused my heart to beat in triple-time, and every agonizing breath I sucked into my lungs seemed to echo in my ears.
I made it to a full run for a minute or so before I figured I wasn’t going to be grabbed from behind and dragged to my death. My heart reached a limit, too, so I had to slow back down. The water sloshed in the pot, but even at breakneck speeds, I was getting good at keeping it just below the rim.
“They are heading toward the cave,” Sheela said with a little breathlessness. “We will follow them.” She gripped her spear and waved me where the trikes were going.
“I’ll stay right behind you,” I gasped, sounding like I’d crushed the world record for the 100-yard dash. My heart and lungs felt like they were trying to kill me.
As we cleared the last bits of the jungle and entered the redwoods, I caught sight of about eight or nine of the trikes, including two that were about half the size of the others. Their lizard-like skin was gray with vertical black stripes, and they all had vibrant colors along the edge of their crests. Colors blurred in the sunlight as they swiveled their heads to watch us run behind them.
“They look very ferocious,” Sheela said at one point. “Those horns would make formidable weapons.”
I used the calm to pop one of them in my Eye-Q.
“Identification: Dinosaur, Triceratops prorsus, male.”
“I think these are vegetarian,” I managed to say. The battle cries were not far enough behind us for my liking, but my heart was about to shoot its way out of my rib cage if I didn’t rest for sixty seconds.
After a short break, Sheela trotted ahead, and I followed close behind. In the open redwood forest, we could both see a good distance, so we didn’t have to worry about what was ahead. Behind us, the commotion of the dinosaur brawl faded, which had me thanking the stars, gods, aliens, or whatever would listen. If these truck-sized dinosaurs were on the run from a predator, what hope did Sheela and I have with our little spears?
We’d run and stopped several times as we crossed through the grove and now I saw something I recognized. “Are we back at the cave?” I finally asked, barely able to talk.
Sheela replied by nodding. Then she motioned ahead, and we crossed the last hundred yards through the redwoods. When she reached the pterodactyl’s tree, she looked up as we had done before leaving. Dino-bird looked down at her with curiosity and gave a don’t-bother-me squawk.
We’d followed the herd of triceratops throu
gh the forest and by a lucky coincidence they now gathered on the hillside below our cave. They must have thought the danger had passed because they were taking the time to chomp the bushes and small trees with the berries. I couldn’t hear the predator anymore, so I figured that we were safe.
I walked the final few yards up the ramp to the cave and looked down at what I’d brought. The pot of water survived pretty well, but I lost about a third of what I’d pulled from the lake. I did better with the clay soil because that couldn’t slosh out. The fish had slammed against my uniform shirt the whole time, soaking my back with fish juices. I was going to smell awful for my efforts, but it was a great haul. There was enough fish for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Even though my sore arms felt like I was carrying cinder blocks, I was proud I didn’t have to drop it all and run. We escaped whatever had chased the trikes away from the lake, and I’d gained valuable knowledge of the world around us while bringing home the bacon.
“Didn’t you say morning was the safe time of day?” I asked Sheela just before we entered the cave.
“Yes,” she replied with a deadpan expression. “It is.”
Chapter 8
Sheela and I walked into the cave weary but victorious. After I set down the pots of clay and water, I gave the string of fish to Galmine. I let Sheela sit down first to be polite, but then I collapsed in a heap next to her.
Galmine was cooking our fish before I could breathe and speak normally. The carnivorous predator Sheela and I evaded was still out there, and I was convinced it was coming for us. I only allowed myself to relax when I figured out the trikes were our early warning system. I’d just have to check that they were still grazing peacefully outside our cave every few minutes.
Sheela told the others about our journey, including our stop near the volcano, our time in the lake, and the frantic run home. Galmine and Trel needed to know where we were in case we didn’t come back the next time.