The Extinction Series | Book 1 | Primordial Earth

by Higgins, Baileigh

  Lillian scrambled out from underneath the flimsy table and dove to the front of the room, crawling into the foot space underneath Mrs. Walton’s desk. Squeezing herself in as far as she could, she screwed her eyes shut and clamped her hands over her ears. Her breathing was fast and ragged as she willed herself to be invisible.

  The desk rocked at her back as the Ankylosauruses crashed through the room in a blind panic. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.

  Chapter 6

  Rogue started awake, gasping as she pushed herself upright on the seat. Her hair clung to her face, and she brushed it aside. She was in the van. Safe for the moment. A wave of stale air wafted over her nostrils as she settled back into reality. When her heartbeat returned to normal, she lay back and sucked in a deep breath.

  The memories of the Shift still swam through her mind, refusing to be forgotten. She hated them. She hated remembering the look of terror on Mrs. Walton’s face. It had taken her years to realize that the woman had known what was happening. She’d known that one side would be whisked away and transported back in time. Maybe she couldn’t tell which side, but she knew she was leaving a student behind to fend for herself in the aftermath of the cataclysm.

  It had taken even longer for Rogue to forgive the woman. For a long time, she’d been angry. Angry that Mrs. Walton hadn’t tried harder to save her. But what could the teacher have done? The Shift had already begun. If Rogue touched the shimmer, she might have been ripped in half as well. Or, she might have been fine. Who knew?

  The only people who could answer those questions were the scientists who’d caused the Shift in the first place: The people who’d tried to control time for their benefit. They made their first attempt in the Nevada desert, once again in the Rocky Mountains, and finally, in Antarctica. Each time, they failed. Each time, the damage was worse than before.

  Instead of giving up, the scientists made a final attempt, determined to gain supremacy over time. This time, they poured every ounce of power into the experiment they could manage and tore the world in half. Their half, remained in place while the other half, Rogue’s half, was transported to the late Cretaceous period. She’d learned that much from Moran. The woman didn’t know all the details, but she’d gleaned enough from the whispered rumors on the internet before the final event, to piece it all together afterward.

  “They did this, Rogue,” Moran would say, nodding at Douglas and his cronies. “People like them, hungry for money and power. The kind who don’t care who gets hurt in the process.”

  “Is that why we fight them?” Rogue would ask.

  “Precisely. We fight for freedom from corruption and tyranny. The freedom to govern ourselves with care and kindness. Never forget that,” Moran said, her eyes cold and distant.

  “I won’t,” Rogue replied, leaning against Moran’s bony shoulder.

  The memory faded away, replaced by her current reality, and Rogue sighed. She rolled over and screwed her eyes shut. She didn’t like to think about the what-ifs. The what-ifs didn’t matter. All that mattered was she was here. She’d been here for twenty years now, and nothing would change that. Nobody was coming to save them. She had spent more time in this prehistoric hell than in her own. The truth was she could barely remember her life before the Shift.

  Suddenly, the van rocked, and Rogue’s eyes snapped open again. Not daring to move, her eyes darted to the windows. The glass was so caked in dirt and grime that it was impossible to see through, and she could do nothing but wait. Wait in breathless silence.

  The vehicle rocked again, and this time it was accompanied by a soft snort. Slowly, Rogue sat up. If she couldn’t see out, whatever was outside couldn’t see in. Keep quiet. Maybe the thing outside will move on.

  The quiet thud of feet on concrete reached her ears—many feet. Inching forward, she peered through a tiny corner of the back window that was still somewhat clear. All she could see was a patch of dark brown hide.

  The creature moved away, and Rogue pressed herself to the window, desperate to see what she was up against. The horned creature snuffled at shrubs that had grown wild at the side of the road. She wracked her brain until she remembered its name: A Zuniceratops.

  Her blood ran cold. While the Zuniceratops was relatively small, only about a meter high and weighing in at two-hundred-and-fifty pounds, they were known to be protective of the herd. Very protective. She’d heard enough talk from raiders who’d had the bad luck to run into a group of these fellows to know she was in real danger.

  Suddenly, an eye filled Rogue’s view, and she jumped back with a startled shriek. Immediately, the creature grunted and slammed into the car. One horn punched right through the rusted metal with a loud screech. The sturdy vehicle rocked sideways on two wheels before it dropped back to the ground. More trumpeting bellows sounded around her. The sound of feet turned frenzied as the creatures raced around the van in a storm of destruction.

  Another creature rammed into the back, shattering the rear windshield in a spray of glass. The Zuniceratops looked at her, its eyes wild and angry. Its ears flicked back and forth as it pawed at the ground, and she knew it was about to charge.

  It lunged forward, smashing against the vehicle with its full weight. The impact pushed the van several feet across the road, and the metal groaned in protest. Rogue screamed as she clung to the seat with all her might.

  Before she could gather her thoughts, a second beast slammed into the side, and the van rocked violently. Before the wheels could settle down, the creature attacked again, and the vehicle toppled over. She landed hard on the shattered window. Broken glass and concrete dug into her shoulder as the car spun like a top across the uneven tar.

  She had to get out of the van before she got crushed. Standing on the window’s edges, she clung to one of the seatbelts to keep from falling and being ground to mush. One of the Zuniceratops kept pace with the back window, watching her struggles. As they locked eyes, the creature’s jaw dropped open in a challenge.

  Rogue screamed back at the beast, and its ears flicked in consternation as it stomped at the ground. The Zuniceratops charged the vehicle and sent it spinning. As the van slowed, she lost track of the beast. That was it, her moment of opportunity.

  She scrambled over the seat and threw herself out of the broken window. Rogue didn’t look back as she pushed herself upright and sprinted down the street. Behind her, the herd cried out in frustration. Hooves pounded against the pavement as the Zuniceratops gave chase. She could hear them getting closer. Though bulky, they moved fast.

  Rogue focused on the building ahead. Get around the corner. Dive into a door. A window. Anything. Hide.

  Maybe she could find a weapon. She needed a gun, something she could use to defend herself against the monsters of this world. But she’d never even seen a gun, let alone fired one.

  One of the Zuniceratops bellowed. The beast couldn’t have been more than a few feet behind her. She could feel its warm, moist breath on her neck. It lunged forward, grazing her shoulder, and she collided with the wall of the building. The beast followed and headbutted the space next to her. Bricks and mortar rained down as it stumbled back a few steps, dazed.

  Without pause, Rogue sprinted forward as the rest of the herd gained ground. She pivoted around the corner of the building and launched herself ahead. The Zuniceratops scrambled across the concrete as it tried to turn after her.

  Rogue slammed into something hard, bouncing off and falling backward. A leg like a tree trunk blocked the sidewalk. The dinosaur reared back, pulling its head out of the pine tree that grew next to the building. It’s duck-billed mouth chewed languorously on a clump of leaves. As the Lambeosaurus shook its head, she noticed the distinctive hollow crest on top of its skull.

  The Lambeosaurus lowered its head. As its nose came level with Rogue, she scooted back, wary of the giant.

  A trumpeting sounded from behind Rogue, and the long neck quickly jerked upward. It bellowed out a cry of its own, challenging the h
erd of Zuniceratops. Similar bellows echoed through the street. The ground shook as two more Lambeosaurs lumbered forward, their tails snapping back and forth.

  The Lambeosaurus reared up, raising its front feet off the ground before slamming them back down. Rogue screamed and threw herself to the side for fear of being crushed. She scrambled toward the nearest doorway, seeking shelter.

  The herd of Lambeosaurs advanced on the remaining Zuniceratops, pushing them down the street. The smaller horned creatures scattered in fear, their feet thundering into the distance.

  Rogue grabbed her chance and ducked into the vine-covered building. She wanted to get out of sight before the Lambeosaurs could take exception to her presence.

  As she walked deeper into the cool, dark building, her legs wobbled. Her feet were heavy, and her lungs burned. She could feel the tension slip out of her shoulders, leaving them knotted and sore. She needed to rest again, and the day had only just begun.

  Chapter 7 - Bones

  Bones threw the flimsy blanket aside, one leg hanging off the bed. He couldn’t sleep. The sheets were constricting. His skin was sweaty, and the scratchy fabric clung to it like tape. Though his body yearned for sleep, his mind raced.

  How could he have let her go?

  He should have done more.

  He wanted to take his words back.

  How could he have saved her?

  He should have done something. Anything.

  Maybe, he should have gone with her over the wall.

  Then, at least, they could be together.

  What if she was already dead?

  No.

  He couldn’t think like that. It couldn’t be true. Bones pushed himself out of bed. His footsteps were quick. Five steps and he pivoted on his heel to pace back the other direction.

  He couldn’t breathe. The air felt heavy around him, pressing on his chest and threatening to crush him into the floor. Bones yanked on his Watch uniform and threw open the door.

  The streets were empty and dark. They were always empty at night. Not even a single light shone to guide those brave or stupid enough to break curfew.

  Bones walked the streets. The outside air was still too warm and too muggy for his taste, but less confining than his room. He could think better. He had to do something.

  Unconsciously, his feet had carried him back to the market, to the place that had sealed her fate. The stalls were closed. The square was vacant. The blood had been washed away, and the covers had been put back in their place. It was as if none of it had ever happened.

  But it had. Rogue was gone. He would never see her creep through the streets, slipping between the shadows. She’d been a radiant glow of light in the dark. How could the others not see that? Prime was a city of ghosts, and she was an angel walking in their midst.

  He had to find her. He had to save her. Maybe then, she would truly understand. Maybe then, she would finally love him…

  Chapter 8

  The room was small and barren. Huddled in the corner, Rogue sat for a long time. Unmoving. Not daring to make a sound.

  She didn’t have the energy or the courage to carry on. Silent tears ran down her cheeks, dripping onto her filthy, torn shirt. When did everything go so wrong? What was she going to do?

  Only yesterday, she’d been scrounging in the market square for scraps, thieving the occasional loaf of bread or overripe apple. Nothing expensive. Nothing worth dying for. Sure, she often went hungry. Sometimes, she didn’t eat for days. But she was alive and with her own kind. Humans. Out here, she was at the mercy of the prehistoric world and its vicious inhabitants. All because of one stupid egg. Why had she taken it? Why?

  Pressing her hands to her head, she sobbed. What am I going to do?

  The words swirled around her brain like angry bees. She was going to die alone out here. Ripped apart and eaten. Perhaps even squashed like a bug.

  The visual image of being stepped on by a long neck flashed before her eyes. It played out like a cartoon, her arms and legs sticking out and wriggling on either side of the dino’s foot. Blood like tomato sauce squirting onto the ground. When last had she watched a cartoon? Too long ago.

  A hysterical giggle escaped her lips, prompting Rogue to wonder if she was finally going mad. With a sigh, she wiped away her tears. Maybe she was going crazy, but sitting around crying wasn’t going to make things any easier. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her how hungry she was. Again.

  With a groan, Rogue stood up, dusting off her clothes. “Time to explore. There has to be something around here I can eat. A weapon, perhaps. Anything.” Her voice sounded strange, but it was nice to hear the words out loud. Maybe she really was going crazy.

  With fresh determination, she set out to explore the building she’d sought refuge in. It turned out to be an apartment block, and she was in the foyer. Taking the stairs, she made her way to the first floor.

  A long walkway stretched ahead, the doors to apartments were on her left while the right side was an open balcony. She dared a peek over the side. The gallery looked out over an empty parking lot, now overgrown with foliage. The rusting hulks of a few cars were barely visible. It was empty for now, much to her relief, and she slipped into the first apartment.

  The place was a mess, long since picked over by other survivors, raiders from Prime City most likely. The shattered windows had let in the elements, and the place stank of mold. Still, she worked through the debris, looking for anything she could use.

  There was nothing, not even an old can of spam.

  Rogue shook off the disappointment. She searched the rest of the floor, looking in every nook and cranny before moving on to the second and third floors. Toward the end, she’d scrounged up a few items and squatted on her haunches, looking at the pitiful pile.

  A worn blanket, full of holes. A length of cord. A rusted screwdriver. A questionable can without a label. A hair-comb. And finally, a long-sleeved top, also full of holes.

  “Not bad,” she murmured. It wasn’t what she’d hoped for, but it was a start.

  Stripping off her t-shirt, she pulled the new one on. Despite its musty smell and extra ventilation, it was better than the old one. Tearing her ragged t-shirt into strips, she wrapped it around her palms. She’d skinned them while escaping the Zuniceratops, and the flesh was raw and sensitive.

  She rolled up the blanket and tied it around her waist. Next, she attempted to untangle her hair with the comb and managed to smooth it back into a ponytail with a piece of the cord. That left only the screwdriver and the can of food.

  Once again, her stomach rumbled. With hesitant fingers, she reached for the can. Pinning it in place with her feet, she punched a hole into the top, her face scrunched up in preparation for the foul smell sure to explode from the ancient can.

  Nothing happened. After a cautious sniff, Rogue’s stomach flip-flopped again. It wasn’t rotten. In fact, it reminded her of her childhood—spaghetti in tomato sauce. Unable to believe her luck, Rogue widened the hole before slurping the contents into her mouth, not caring when sauce ran down either side of her chin.

  She licked her lips, wiped the last bits from her face, and sucked on her fingers until it was all gone. A sense of bliss overcame her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a good meal. Too bad, there wasn’t more.

  With a sigh, Rogue got to her feet. It was time to move on. She tucked the screwdriver and into her belt. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it had its uses. The can she also kept in case she needed to boil water or cook something, tucking it into a fold of the blanket with the leftover cord.

  What she really needed was a proper weapon, a means to make a fire, carry water, and a backpack. As she descended the stairs of the apartment block, Rogue wondered where she’d find such things.

  “In the same place I’ll find a rainbow pony,” Rogue said with a snort. “I might as well ask for the moon. This place is picked clean.”

  Despite her pessimistic words, she sauntered to the window and peeked
out at the street. Both the Zuniceratops and the Lambeosaurs were gone, and the place looked deserted. She glanced at the sky. The sun was almost straight overhead. If she was going to scavenge, she’d have to do it during the daylight hours. When night fell, the monsters came out, and she’d better be tucked away somewhere safe by then.

  Her eyes ran over the broken and faded shop fronts looking for something familiar. Most of the signs were illegible, the lettering broken and faded.

  “Oh, well. Guess I’ll just have to take a closer look,” she muttered.

  Scraping together her courage, she left the apartment block at a quick jog, making for the nearest shop. She paused at the entrance, searching the dim interior for movement. It looked empty, so she picked her way over the broken glass in the window frame and walked down the empty aisles.

  Dried leaves and sand coated the floor like a carpet, and the dust lay thick on the shelves. None of it had been disturbed for a long time. She spotted a small object and bent to pick it up. After a wipe with her fingers, she could make out what it was. An old coin. Silver.

  And useless.

  She moved to toss it away but hesitated. After turning it over in her fingers a few times, Rogue tucked it into her pocket, unsure why she was keeping it. Because it was pretty, maybe? Something to remind her of the old days? Of Lillian?

  With a shake of her head, Rogue dismissed the thought. The old days were gone, and so was Lillian. That little girl didn’t exist anymore. She hadn’t for a long time.

  After a thorough search, she determined that the shop was a bust and moved on to the next one. From the faded signs and adverts inside, she gathered it used to be a pharmacy. It was empty too. Picked as clean as a bone, carrion to the scavengers that had come before her.