by Dakota Chase
I gulped. “No, sir. We’re done fighting, aren’t we, Grant? Come on, Mr. Ambrosius. Give us a break.”
“Yes, sir. Please?” Grant added his plea to mine. The last thing either of us wanted to do was end up in prison. We were both on our last strike. If Merlin accused us of starting the fire that destroyed his office, we’d be locked up for sure.
He stared hard at us for a long few minutes, until I was almost sure he was going to refuse, but then he gave a small nod. “Very well. I believe this trip will be beneficial for both of you. It will build your characters.” Standing up, he reached up to the top of the dry-erase board behind him and pulled down a world map. He pointed to the east coast of the United States. “I’ll be sending you here, to the coast of Virginia.” The smirk on his face suggested there was more to it than he was telling us.
There had to be a catch. He sure as hell wasn’t sending us to some souvenir shop in Virginia Beach to pick up this talisman. “When, Mr. Ambrosius? What year will it be where we’re going?”
He chuckled, and it was a scary sound. “I don’t believe they had a reckoning of years back then. I’ll see you when you get back with the talisman.” He began to wave his hands in esoteric patterns and whisper his spell.
Before I could ask him what he meant, the room began to spin, and the now-familiar dizziness I got when Merlin sent us back in time washed over me. Just before everything went black, I thought I heard Merlin say, “If you survive, that is.”
THE FIRST thing I became aware of was the sound of the ocean. It was loud, like a dull roar, or low, pulsing thunder. I cracked my eyes open and found myself lying on a wide, sandy beach. It’d been warm and wet when I woke up that morning. Now it felt like late November, almost cold enough to snow. The wind was blowing and bit through my clothes, making me shiver.
I sat up and looked over at Grant, who was lying next to me.
He blinked awake and sat up too. “Where are we?”
“Virginia, according to Merlin. The more important question is, when are we?” I glanced down at what I was wearing, examining it more closely. Merlin had always dressed us appropriately for whatever time he sent us back to, and if that was still true, then what I’d been dressed in did not bode well for us.
My shirt was cut from some sort of animal hide. The sleeves were sewn onto the body with knots of brownish fibers too thick to be called thread, but too thin to be considered rope. I wore pants fashioned the same way. Soft boots were on my feet, attached to strips of fur wrapping around my calves to the knee. The heavy fur cloak draped over my shoulders hung nearly down to my knees. Everything I wore smelled like wood smoke too.
Grant was dressed similarly, with only minor differences in color and texture. The fur of his cloak was thick, rough, and gray while mine was curlier and black. He looked out at the ocean, one hand absently stroking the fur. “It feels like dog.”
I blinked, confused. “What?”
He looked at me and smiled. “The fur. It feels like dog fur. It’s probably wolf. Yours looks like bison.”
I fingered the black curly fur. “Huh. Weighs a ton, but it’s really soft for fake fur. Good quality costumes. We must be in some sort of play, huh? Or maybe we’ll be working at one of those Renaissance fairs—you know, the ones with the fake jousting and knights and stuff. I went to one once and ate a turkey leg that was as big around as my head.”
Grant snorted and rolled his eyes. He gestured toward the wide, empty beach. “Look around you. Do you see any tents? Do you see any other people for that matter? There’s nothing here, Ash.”
I shrugged. “So? When does Merlin ever drop us right in the middle of where we need to be? We always need to hike in. There’s probably a town or something right over that dune.” I got up and trudged across the sand. The wind was cold and whipped sand across my face, so I put an arm up to shield my eyes.
The climb up the dune was difficult. My feet kept displacing the sand, and I kept sliding backward, but eventually I made it. When I finally did, I swore out loud.
My struggle up was for nothing. There wasn’t anything but more sand on the other side. It stretched in both directions, broken only by clumps of wild grasses and the tree line in the distance. There wasn’t even any trash, and that’s what really got me.
On every beach I’d ever been to, there was some sort of reminder that people had been there. A sign, a trash bin, a paper, a cigarette filter… something. Here there was only sand, grass, a few little side-walking crabs, birds, and a whole lot of nothing.
I heard feet shushing in sand and saw Grant climb up the dune next to me. His sigh, although warranted, irritated me.
At that moment I knew Grant was right, but I still didn’t want to admit it. I gave him a shrug born of pure stubbornness. “So, we’re in a state park or nature preserve or something. No biggie. The fair or whatever is probably a mile or so inland. No worries. Come on. Let’s get going. I’m getting cold.”
His hand on my arm pulled me back and kept me from sliding down the opposite side of the dune. His voice was little more than a whisper, almost lost in the sound of the wind and waves. “Ash, look.”
I looked in the direction he pointed. Several hundred yards from the dune was the beginning of what looked like a thick forest. I saw it immediately, although my brain had a little trouble making sense of what my eyes insisted they saw.
The animal was huge, maybe the size of a rhinoceros, but it didn’t look like any rhino I’d ever seen in a zoo. Covered in shaggy dark gray fur, it walked on four stout legs, the front longer than the back, which gave it a peculiar gait. When it stood up on its shorter hind legs, it sat supported by a muscular, furry tail. I watched in awe as it reached up and used long, curving claws to pull down the branch of a tree so it could eat the leaves.
“What the hell is that thing?” I asked. “Is it a bear?”
“No, I don’t think so. It looks like some sort of sloth.” It sounded to me like Grant’s voice was heavy with the same terrified fascination I was feeling. “A giant one.”
“Where are we?” I looked up at the sky, as if I might see Merlin’s face in the clouds and yelled. “Where the hell did you drop us this time, old man?”
Grant shoved me. “Shut up, Ash. Do you want to get us killed?”
I turned on Grant and snarled. “That thing is big, but it’s eating leaves, and it moves slow. What are you afraid of?”
“Stop and think a minute, you idiot. Sure, that thing’s a vegetarian, or at least an omnivore, but what if there’s something around that eats it?”
I started to argue but then froze as my mind conjured up images of Godzilla-like creatures breaking through the trees and chasing us down the beach, eager to chomp on two time-traveling high school seniors. “Point taken. So what are we supposed to do on a beach? Have a bonfire? Maybe grill some sloth burgers?”
“I think the more important question is when are we rather than where are we. You know, last night I was thinking that with our luck, there not only wouldn’t be inside plumbing, but probably wouldn’t be any insides at all.”
“Smart guy. So?”
“I think maybe I wasn’t very far off the mark.”
The thought sank in, and I gaped at him as understanding dawned on me. “Are you telling me I need to worry about becoming lunch for a T. rex? Because if you are, I’m going to lose my shit right here on the beach.”
Grant shook his head. “No, no. That creature over there is a mammal. You can tell by the fur. There were no mammals that big when dinosaurs were around. Besides, Merlin said we’re looking for a hunting talisman, and people definitely weren’t around during the age of the dinosaurs.”
“So, what’s around, then? Bears? I’m no fonder of having my face chewed off by a bear than I am a T. rex.”
“If there are bears, then they’re probably really big ones. I think maybe we’re in the middle of an ice age, and mammals were a lot bigger then. They called them ‘megafauna,’ emphasis on the mega part.”<
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“Swell. And what do you mean by an ice age? How many were there?”
Grant shrugged. “A lot, from what I’ve read. Big ones and little ones.”
I was a little annoyed he seemed to know so much. It made me feel stupid. “You read too much.”
“Well, it’s a good thing one of us reads, so we can figure out when the hell we are and how to get what we need to go home.”
I decided to change the subject since he was, once again, right. “Speaking of, why can’t Merlin just be up front with us? Why play these games?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s bored.”
“And maybe he’s a freaking sadist.”
“Yeah, that too.”
I grunted and kicked at a small seashell in frustration. It bounced down the side of the dune. “I’m getting tired of Merlin’s crap.”
Grant smirked at me. “Well, you make sure you tell him the next time we see him. Of course, he’ll probably turn you into a salamander or something, but at least he’ll know how you feel.”
“Oh, get bent.” I fumed in silence for a minute or two. “What makes you think this is an ice age?”
“The cold. I’ve been to Virginia Beach in the winter. This is way too cold, and that sloth—or whatever it is—has really thick, heavy fur. It’s not built for hot summers.”
“Makes sense, I guess. So, the question is, where do we go from here?”
He looked up and down the beach. “Since the sloth is heading south, whatever might hunt it is probably going that way too. I suggest we go north.”
“North it is, then.” I figured it was as good a direction as any and was too tired to come up with a reason not to take it.
We turned toward the north, keeping the still-rising sun on our right, and trudged across the sand. It was difficult walking, and while going toward the tree line and firmer ground would’ve made our travels easier, we both agreed the thickset forest might hide predators we’d rather not meet. At least there was no place to hide on the dunes.
By the time we stopped for a rest, the sun was directly overhead. Noon, and I was thirsty and hungry. Grant was too, and we were both full of complaints about Merlin, who’d dropped us here without a single bottle of water or energy bar.
“We’re going to have to go into the forest.” Grant sighed and looked toward the trees. “That’s where we’ll find potable water.”
“I don’t care how potable it is—we can’t carry it without a canteen.”
“Potable, not portable. It means drinkable.”
“Oh, okay, Mr. Big Vocabulary. What about predators, huh?”
“We’re going to have to take our chances, Ash. Dehydration will kill us. Do you really want to test what would happen to us if we die in the past?”
I grunted, unwilling to reply. I didn’t, of course. We’d discussed the possibilities before. One, we die and wake up back in our own time. Two, we die here and wake up dead there. Or rather, don’t wake up. Merlin refused to tell us which it would be. Maybe he didn’t even know. “Okay. To the forest. But let’s find something to arm ourselves with, okay? Big sticks, maybe.”
“Sure. A big stick will be great protection against a Smilodon.”
“A what?”
“Smilodon. Saber-toothed cat.”
I snorted at him. “You do this on purpose, don’t you? Show off, I mean.”
He scowled at me, but then a grin broke free and he shrugged. “Maybe sometimes.”
“Ass.” I shook my head and didn’t bother to bite back a smile as we headed toward the trees.
Chapter Three
THE FOREST was a lot like the woods I remembered hiking through the few times my dad took the family camping. There were huge, looming trees, thick brush, the strong smell of earth and mulch in the air, and years’ worth of fallen leaves crunching underfoot.
Grant said his family’s only version of roughing it was staying in a less than five-star hotel, but my dad had actually bought tents and equipment and lugged my mom and me out to the state forest a time or two. Somehow, he thought a week or two stranded out in the middle of nowhere with no internet or cell phone service would bring us closer together. He spent the time drinking beer and trying to build a decent fire. I spent my time trying to avoid him by going on long hikes.
Which reminded me of how much I hated hiking. Hated it back then and hated it just as much now. Scratchy, thorny branches, spider webs hanging between the trees that you don’t see until you walk through them, and bugs. Lots of bugs. Some buzzed around our heads like miniature fighter jets, while others crawled up our legs or dropped down on us from overhead branches, and some of them bit or stung. I spent most of the time yelping and swatting at the tiny pests. I probably looked like a one-man Three Stooges show. I was going to have bruises from constantly smacking my arms, legs, and face.
We’d been walking about an hour when we heard the scream. It was human; there was no doubt in either of our minds about that. It took only one brief look between us to confirm it.
“Did you hear that?” Grant peered into the thick of the trees, turning in a small circle, looking in each direction.
“Yeah, I heard it. Where did it come from?” I didn’t see anything except trees and more trees.
Grant stooped and picked up a thick stick, almost a short log. He held it with both hands. “I think it came from over there.” He pointed his chin ahead of us, in the direction we were walking.
The scream came again, shrill, and it raised gooseflesh on my arms. I hoped Grant was right and dreaded he was at the same time. I bent down and picked up a branch as thick around as my forearm. It felt heavy and sturdy.
What was going to be waiting for us when we found the source of the shriek? Could a Smiling Don, or whatever Grant called it, be driven off by a pair of teenagers armed with sticks? Somehow I doubted it. It would probably use our sticks as toothpicks to pry bits of us out from between its big fangs.
Before I could voice my fears, Grant went charging through the forest, holding his stick over his shoulder like a baseball bat. Since my only choice was to stay where I was, alone—which was no option at all—I swore at his back, then took off running after him.
Plunging full tilt through the forest was good in one respect—the insects couldn’t keep up. On the other hand, I could feel brambles tearing at the leather and furs I wore and ripping at my skin where it was exposed.
A couple of minutes later, we burst out of the thick forest into a small clearing. The source of the scream was lying crumpled at the foot of a massive tree, clutching its leg. It was a kid, maybe ten years old or so. A closer look showed his right leg bent at an angle no human leg should be able to bend at. It was broken, no doubt about it.
There was nothing else in the clearing. No Smiling Dons, no giant sloths, no whatever else might live in the forest here. Just the boy and us. I felt a little relieved and lowered my branch, leaning on it like an old man’s cane.
Grant had stopped a couple of paces ahead of me, still holding his log like a bat and breathing hard. As soon as I caught my breath, I walked up to him. “It’s a kid.”
“I can see that. He’s hurt.” Grant took a breath, then approached the boy. He squatted down next to him. “Hey. Don’t worry. We’re not going to hurt you. We want to help.”
The boy’s face was pasty white under the streaks of dirt covering it, and his expression was strained as he propped himself up on one elbow. He was obviously in a great deal of pain. He also looked like he hadn’t had more than a passing acquaintance with soap and water in a long while. His brown hair was long, and bits of leaves and sticks were tangled in it. When he spoke, his voice was high-pitched and raspy. “You…. You are of the Bison Clan?”
“Bison Clan? No. I’m Grant, and this is Ash.”
“I don’t know those tribes. I’m Rabbit, son of Gray Wolf of the Bison Clan.” He moaned and slumped back to the ground.
“Grant and Ash are our names, Rabbit, not our tribes.” I looked more c
losely at Rabbit. He was wearing clothing very similar to ours. His outer cloak had long shaggy reddish fur, though. I couldn’t tell what animal it was from.
I exchanged a knowing look with Grant. We were going to help the kid, no doubt about it, whether that would lead us to the hunting talisman we needed or not. There was no way either of us would leave the kid lying on the forest floor like this. Besides, he was the first human being we’d seen so far.
“Rabbit, how did you get hurt?”
He didn’t try to sit up again but answered quickly enough. “I came to lay snares. I thought to get a few squirrels, or maybe a couple of fat hares. I heard snuffling—I thought it might be a bear, so I climbed this tree. My foot caught on a branch and I fell.”
“A bear?” I picked my stick back up. “Here?”
Rabbit shook his head. “If it was a bear, it must’ve gone away. I haven’t heard it since I fell.” He moaned again and lay back down.
Grant sighed and finally lowered his log. “Okay. Rabbit, are your people near here?”
“Our cave is to the north of here. The sun was high in the sky when I set out.”
Grant looked at me. “Sounds like his people are a couple of hours from here. We’ll have to immobilize his leg and make a stretcher to carry him on.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Okay, Dr. Who. What makes you think either of us knows how to immobilize a leg or make anything except maybe a mess?”
“We don’t really have a choice.”
“We also don’t have any tools.”
Rabbit piped up again. I thought his ability to follow a conversation while in such pain was pretty impressive. “How do two men come to travel and carry no tools? I came only to set snares but brought my knife, a hand ax, and my fire kit.”
Grant grinned at me. “Problem solved. We’ll need to borrow your tools to make what we need to carry you home, Rabbit.”