The Extinction Series | Book 1 | Primordial Earth

by Higgins, Baileigh

  A few pieces of thick cardboard ensured a steady burn, and she used the light to comb the shelves for something that could cover the smell of blood on her body. There was nothing. The office yielded little besides broken appliances, a desk, and a chair. To add to her troubles, her fire was rapidly dying for lack of more fuel, and the smoke was fast filling the small space. If she wasn’t careful, she’d asphyxiate herself.

  With growing desperation, Rogue fed the last few cardboard pieces to the flames before barricading the door with the desk. It probably wouldn’t help much, but she was out of options. Next, she climbed onto the chair and smashed a hole into the window with the machete. That allowed the smoke to escape but still didn’t solve her main problem. What now?

  Rogue piled more stuff onto the desktop to reinforce it. Everything she could lay her hands on. Finally, she collapsed into the chair and stared at the dying embers of her fire. There was nothing left to do but wait. Wait and pray that nothing came for her.

  The last flame flickered out, and she was once more plunged into darkness. Outside, the world awakened as the nocturnal creatures went about the grizzly business of hunting and killing their prey. For hours, she sat unmoving, hardly daring to breathe. Sleep was out of the question as she stared wide-eyed at nothing. At last, exhaustion won out, and she nodded off, only to jump upright when something scrabbled at the door.

  Rogue’s heart hammered in her chest as she stared into the darkness. No matter how hard she strained her eyes, she couldn’t see a thing. Nor could she know what lurked outside the room. Did she even want to know?

  All she had was her sense of hearing, and she sat frozen while waiting for the next noise. A deep sniff sounded through the crack underneath the door. A snort echoed through the room, and the handle rattled as the creature scraped its claws down the wood. A click sounded as the door unlatched, and Rogue cursed beneath her breath. Of all the rotten luck!

  The door creaked in its frame as the dinosaur, whatever it was, pushed against it. The desk shifted, and she nearly peed herself on the spot. I have to do something. I can’t just sit here and wait to be eaten!

  Rogue darted a look in the broken window’s direction, but she knew it was too small. Swallowing a cry, she huddled deeper into the chair. One hand felt for the machete at her waist, though she doubted it would work so well a second time. Not against a real predator.

  Suddenly, a thought occurred to her, and she lurched forward to scoop up a handful of ashes from the dead fire. She rubbed it into her clothes and hair, hoping it would cover any lingering scent of blood. Next, she grabbed another handful and crawled across the floor toward the door. She had to navigate by memory, but it wasn’t that hard in such a small space.

  She bit back a cry when she banged her head against the edge of the desk. Ducking lower, she threw the ashes into the slit underneath the door. Then she reversed and pushed the desk back into place. Its feet scraped across the floor and simultaneously shoved the door shut with a loud click.

  Instantly, she knew she’d made a mistake. For a brief moment, nothing happened, and hope rose within her chest. Then, all hell broke loose.

  A bellowing roar filled her ears, and the door rattled as the creature on the other side attacked the flimsy barrier. The wood creaked and groaned, and Rogue held onto the desk for dear life.

  Regret filled her mind. Why had she pushed the stupid door shut? Why hadn’t she waited for the stupid dinosaur to smell the stupid ashes? All beasts were afraid of fire, weren’t they? Even dinosaurs had to be. Fires were common, especially in lightning prone areas. That wouldn’t help her now, however. Not when the beast knew there was something on the other side.

  The attack continued, and the wooden door barely held up beneath the assault. Rogue pushed against the desk with all the strength she possessed, her eyes screwed shut as thunderous roars echoed around her. A loud crack caused her eyes to snap open, and her blood ran cold. The door wouldn’t last much longer. I’m sorry, Moran. I tried. I really did, but it’s impossible to survive in this world. Impossible.

  Another loud crack announced that the end was near, and the desk rattled beneath her hands. Her arms and legs shook as the last of her strength began to run out. She was beyond exhausted, beyond caring…almost. Maybe this is for the best. It should be quick, at least.

  Suddenly, the creature ceased its assault, and a thick silence fell over the space. Rogue didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t dare hope that it was over. The predator resumed its sniffing, sucking in deep breaths along the aluminum frame of the door. It reached the bottom, and a loud snort sounded as it smelled the ash. Something like a cough followed, and then, retreating footsteps.

  Rogue sagged to the floor, too tired to believe she was safe. Too tired to even lift her head. For several minutes, she lay unmoving as the silence stretched on and on. The beast was gone. At last, she curled into a ball and drifted into a fitful sleep filled with blood and teeth.

  Chapter 11

  Rogue woke the next morning with a stiff neck and a pounding headache. Her eyesight was grainy, and her mouth dry. She sat upright with a groan, surveying her surroundings. A stream of yellow light lit the room through the broken window and cast the furniture in stark relief.

  The floor was covered in ash, a trail leading from the blackened spot on the floor to the door. The desk remained in place, piled high with broken appliances. Rogue dragged her backpack over and removed the can of beans. With the screwdriver, she punched a hole big enough to slurp the contents into her mouth. It tasted like heaven, and the sauce soothed her thirst. A couple of swigs from a bottle of water followed before she tried out her new toothbrush and nail clippers. There wasn’t much she could do about her clothes. The fabric was covered in ash, and she decided to leave it that way. Hopefully, it’ll help to cover my scent.

  She did manage to comb her hair and tie it back into a knot before packing up all of her stuff. That left only one more thing to do: Leave the room and brave the outside world. She climbed to her feet, every muscle protesting its use. Sleeping on the floor was not comfortable and never would be no matter how often she did it. At least, I’m still alive.

  Rogue faced the exit with deep hesitation. She didn’t relish the prospect of another day spent being chased by hungry dinos. But, her full bladder insisted on relief, and she set about unblocking the door.

  Once the door was revealed, the damage wrought by the dinosaur the previous night was evident. The wood had split in half, with deep cracks splintering off in every direction. It was a miracle that the thing remained in one piece, and she realized how lucky she’d been to escape harm.

  Rogue snorted. “Lucky? Yeah, maybe. Let’s hope that luck holds today.”

  She opened the door a sliver and peered through the opening. Everything was quiet, and the place looked deserted. For a moment, she debated going back to the storeroom where she’d found the shirts. There could be more stuff. Still, the flyers were an ever-present danger, and she decided against it. Time to get out of here.

  She slipped through the opening and jogged straight to the exit of the building. There, she surveyed the street until satisfied it was safe to leave. Her first instinct was to run back to her apartment bathroom. It was reasonably safe and offered a reprieve from the outside world, a place she could lick her wounds. It wouldn’t help much if she starved to death, though. I need more food first.

  With that thought in mind, Rogue headed into the city. She stuck to the shadows, every sense on high alert. It wasn’t long until she reached what used to be a park, now overgrown with alien foliage until it resembled the primordial forest that bordered the city limits.

  With the sun high above her head, she headed deeper into the park and chose a secluded spot to do her business. It was daunting. Squatting with her butt exposed to the air, did little to calm her nerves. At least, there was an abundance of moss to use after the deed was done, and it wasn’t any worse than what she was used to back home.

  In Prime Cit
y, the plumbing had long since begun to collapse. It wasn’t long before it became a luxury reserved only for the rich. Everybody else had to use the outhouses dotted around the city. Every day, men with carts would empty the overflowing buckets and use it to fertilize the crops and fruit orchards. It was the worst and also lowest paying job in the city, and the stench was overwhelming.

  Home. Was Prime City still her home? No. It wasn’t. Not anymore, and the sooner she stopped thinking about, the better off she’d be. I can never go back. Never.

  Pushing away the morbid thought, Rogue finished her ablutions. With her senses on high alert, she searched for something to eat. It wasn’t easy. She wandered through the trees, whipping about whenever she heard a sound. It was even worse than walking through the crowded, filthy streets of Prime city. While she was used to bricks, mortar, concrete, and alleyways, the forest’s sheer greenery was overwhelming. Anything could hide within its shadowy depths, and she decided to head back to the nearest buildings.

  She hadn’t gotten far when she discovered the remains of a rusted fence. Upon following it, she stumbled across an astonishing sight. A big statue of a woman sitting on top of a horse dominated a small clearing.

  The statue was covered in moss and vines but still retained a majestic air. Upon closer inspection, Rogue discovered that it was a replica of Joan of Arc. The plaque was still readable despite all the grime that covered it. Awed, she stared at the golden figurine of Joan carrying a proud flag.

  As a child, the Maiden of Orleans had been one of her favorite heroines. Moran knew the fable well and often told Rogue the story at night to help her sleep. It was a beautiful memory, one of the few she had to cherish. Placing her hand on the statue, Rogue blinked back sudden tears. “I’m trying to be brave, Moran. I’m trying to survive, just like you taught me.”

  After a couple of seconds, Rogue sniffed and dropped her hand. If she wanted to keep on living, she’d better get moving. Sentiment was for fools. However, as she turned her head back to the city, her eyes fell upon an apple tree. For a second, she stood frozen, gazing at the ripe, red apples that hung from the boughs. Saliva flooded her mouth, and she rushed over.

  Finally, something was going her way. As she reached up to pluck an apple, her eyes fell on the statue of Joan, and she smiled. “Thank you for this bounty, fair maiden. I won’t forget it.”

  Chapter 12

  After eating her fill of apples, Rogue stuffed as many as she could into her backpack until it bulged at the seams. Shouldering the heavy load, she determined it was time to head back to her bathroom sanctuary. She had enough food and water to last a couple of days while she figured out her next move.

  She exited the park after making sure the street was clear. Jogging down the sidewalk, she kept a wary eye on her surroundings. The moment a flyer circled overhead, she ducked into the nearest open doorway.

  It was gloomy inside the store, and she hunched down to inspect the interior. Empty shelves stretched to the far side, and a dusty counter lined the wall. An equally thick layer of grime covered the floor, undisturbed except for her footprints. It appeared to be deserted, and some of the tension left her muscles. While it was likely picked clean, she decided to do a quick inspection anyway. Who knows what I might find?

  Rogue searched the counter first but found nothing except more dirt. A framed picture on the wall caught her attention, however, and she wiped it clean to see better. The photo depicted a man smiling as he posed in front of the shop, one hand waving at the neon sign. Next to it was a cut-out of a newspaper article from the Portland Observer. It talked about the opening of a new business, the Portland General Store, by Mr. Thomas Crane.

  The picture brought a lump to her throat. It was so normal. So everyday. Far removed from everything she’d ever experienced. The owner looked proud of his accomplishment, and she wondered where he was now. Did he make it to safety after the Shift, or did he fall victim to one of the predators that roamed this time? Maybe he was one of those who watched her climb the wall in Prime City. I guess I’ll never know.

  Moving away from the counter, she looked at the shelves. As expected, they were empty. Rogue was about to give up when she noticed a metal door set into the back wall. It was marked “Storage” by a faded sign.

  With a twist of the handle, the door creaked open. For a few seconds, she didn’t move. One hand hovered over her machete, but when nothing jumped out, she relaxed. Poking her head inside, she surveyed the space. It was dark inside the entrance, but the far wall had collapsed, and light streamed through the opening.

  Numerous boxes and pallets littered the floor, and she picked her way through the debris with care. Most of the stuff was ruined. Time and the weather had rendered it into unrecognizable mounds, and she despaired of finding anything worth taking.

  As she moved around a moldy box, Rogue stumbled over a lump on the floor. It clattered underfoot, and she bent down to pick it up. Her fingers examined the strange object in the gloom. It was round and smooth with deep pockets in places. A suspicion formed in the back of her mind, and she stepped into a beam of light to get a proper look.

  Rogue froze as the sunlight illuminated the human skull cradled in her palm. Deep holes marred the white bone. Teeth marks. Her hands began to shake as she did a quick one-eighty, and the skull clattered to the floor. Her eyes picked out more bones scattered between mounds of shredded cardboard and broken pallets, both human and dinosaur. Most were old, bleached and cracked by the passing of time, but others still had bits of meat clinging to them.

  One heap of moldy cloth caught her attention, and she stepped closer. Her breath came in tiny gasps as she knelt down. Tentatively, she reached out and picked up an oblong egg bigger than her hand. The ivory shell felt smooth and warm to the touch.

  “Oh, no,” Rogue barely breathed the words. Herbivores laid perfectly round eggs. The egg she held belonged to a carnivore. She shoved the egg back into the nest with a gasp of horror, but the damage was done. She’d smeared her scent all over the nest. Whatever had laid the egg would have no problem tracking her. I need to get out of here.

  Rogue whirled around. Her heart thundered in her chest, and adrenaline coursed through her veins. There were more nests scattered about, each filled with eggs. Raptors. It had to be. None of the larger predators lived in packs.

  She bolted back the way she came, fleeing in blind terror. The metal door beckoned, and she nearly fell through the opening. After slamming it shut, Rogue breathed a little easier. The door was thick and sturdy. Surely, it would hold against a couple of raptors.

  She was about to dash to the store exit when two creatures ran past the front. Their heads bobbed, much like birds, and their tails lashed through the air as they sprinted past the shop. They were big and thickly muscled, easily weighing in at a ton each. Raptors, but not just any raptors. Utahraptors.

  The largest of their kind, she knew she was in serious trouble. How could she fight something that size? The answer was simple. She couldn’t.

  Rogue ducked behind the nearest shelf, huddling behind the flimsy rack with one hand on her machete. Suddenly, the steel door didn’t look so sturdy anymore, and she cursed the rotten luck that brought her to this place. Now, she was a sitting duck. “Crap. I need to get out of here, but how?”

  Even as she watched, a third raptor ran past the open storefront. It paused mid-stride and cocked its head, listening. After a couple of seconds, it was joined by a fourth raptor that nipped at its face. A brief fight broke out as the two raptors sparred for the top position. Their grunts and squeals echoed through the air, causing her to wince. Going that way was out of the question, nor could she stay where she was. There was nowhere to hide in the barren shop. The only route of escape lay through the nest.

  For a brief moment, she considered dumping her backpack. It was heavy and would slow her down. But, its contents were precious and necessary for her survival. Without it, she wouldn’t last long anyway.

  Rogue squeezed her e
yes shut, gathering her courage. Just be quick about it. Those raptors still have to run around the block to reach their nests.

  She shot to her feet and slipped through the storage door for the third time that day. One way or another, it would be the last. She picked her way through the scattered debris, nests, and bones, and made her way to the exit. A furtive glance outside revealed that the back of the store edged onto a section of the forest. A cracked and broken tar road separated the two, and an abandoned car marked the halfway point. It would take only a few seconds to cross the distance.

  Rogue eyed the forest. Its murky depths were filled with hidden dangers, but at that moment, she didn’t care. She needed to get away from the raptors’ territory, and the thick stand of trees was her only hope. She wouldn’t last two seconds out in the open, exposed, and vulnerable from all sides.

  Her muscles tensed as she prepared to dash for cover. Before she could move, however, a sound reached her ears. One that made her blood run cold.

  Click.

  It sounded like someone clicking their tongue.

  Slowly, Rogue turned her head. First, to the right, then, to the left. She saw nothing. The street was empty. Maybe, it was her imagination playing tricks on her.

  Click. Click. Click.

  That wasn’t her imagination. Something was coming her way. Before she could second-guess herself, Rogue darted toward the abandoned car. She reached it in less than a second and sought shelter behind its bulk.

  Click. Click. Click.

  A second mad dash saw her cross the street and duck behind the trunk of the nearest tree. With her backpack pressed to its rough bark, she sought to regain her composure. It was difficult when every cell of her body wanted to scream with sheer terror.