Day of the Predator

by Alex Scarrow

  ‘Maddy?’

  She looked up at Sal. ‘I’m going to go nd Foster. Bring him back if I can. He’l know what to do, Sal. Because I sure don’t.’

  ‘But he’s gone for good you said. He wasn’t here when the bubble reset. He’s gone.’

  ‘Gone from our two days, yeah. But not Wednesday …

  not Thursday, not any other day after that.’

  ‘You’re going to ride forward?’

  ‘You’re going to ride forward?’

  Maddy considered that, but the less time travel she did –

  forward or backwards – the bet er. Foster had quietly told her timeriding was a bit like smoking; like a single cigaret e, it was impossible to say for sure how much a single smoke might take o your life, but if you could ever avoid having a cigaret e that could only be a good thing.

  ‘I’l miss the reset. That’s what I’l do,’ said Maddy. ‘I’l go into Wednesday and hang around those places. Who knows? I might get lucky.’

  ‘You can’t do that! You’l be gone for good like Foster!’

  ‘No … we’l schedule a return window.’ Maddy pinched her lip in thought. ‘Yeah, we’l schedule a window at, let’s say, eight in the evening on Wednesday.’ She turned round and pointed towards the shut er door. ‘Just outside the archway in our side street. That’l bring me right back into our time bubble, back into Monday.’

  ‘But what if a time wave happens while you’re gone?’

  Maddy shrugged, resigned. ‘I can’t see you coping any worse than Maddy “Mess-up” Carter’s done so far, right?’

  ‘Oh shadd-yah! We should be guring out how to get Liam back, not messing around visiting tourist at ractions.’

  ‘Yeah? But think about it – there’s nothing we can do, is there? Just wait around … wait for a time wave to hit us and hope it’l lead us directly to him? That’s it. That’s pret y much al we can do right now. Just wait. Wel , at least while we’re sit ing around here doing nothing useful I can try and nd Foster, see what else he can suggest.’

  Sal clamped her mouth shut.

  Sal clamped her mouth shut.

  ‘Make sense?’

  Sal nodded slowly. ‘OK,’ she replied, ddling with a pair of plastic bangles on her wrist. ‘Do you want me to come with you? Two pairs of eyes?’

  The screen in front of them ickered.

  > Recommendation: Sal should remain here as the observer.

  Maddy nodded reluctantly. ‘Bob’s right. If we get a time ripple preceding a wave, we need you here as our early heads-up. You should stay here and do your mid-morning walk around Times Square just like always. And, anyway, if the poop hits the fan and for some reason I end up being stuck out in Wednesday it’l be good to know there’s someone left holding the fort, right?’

  Sal tried a con dent nod. ‘Uh … yeah.’

  ‘Right … that’s the plan, then.’ Maddy looked at her watch. It was just gone ve in the afternoon. Outside, the sun would be looking ahead for a place to set le beyond the smoke-l ed sky of Manhat an, and most of New York was already back at home, the normal day of work abandoned hours ago as they silently watched live news feeds from their dinner tables.

  Tonight, New York was going to be a ghost town, just like it always was on the Tuesday as the clock ticked down towards their eld o ce time bubble reset ing itself.

  CHAPTER 26

  65 mil ion years BC, jungle

  Liam wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. ‘Jay-zus, it’s almost as hot as the old lady’s boiler room, so it is.’

  ‘Old lady?’ It was Mr Whitmore.

  Liam thought the man had been far enough behind not to hear his bad-tempered mut erings. He shrugged. ‘Oh, just a … just an old ship I used to work on.’

  He stopped where he was, catching his breath for a moment. The hot humid air felt heavy on his lungs. They stood stil for a while, trading ragged breaths and listening to the subdued noises of the jungle around them, the tap of water dripping on waxy leaves, the creak of the tal canopy trees subtly swaying and shifting, the echoing chat er and squawk of some ying creatures far above amid the branches.

  Further back down the trail he’d been hacking out with his improvised machete, he heard the others stumbling towards them: Franklyn, their resident dino expert grinning at the prehistoric jungle around him like a kid in a candy store; Lam behind him, squinting up at the bright lances of sunlight piercing down through the cathedral-like vaulted roof of arched branches and thick leaves, and vaulted roof of arched branches and thick leaves, and Jonah Middleton whistling something tuneless as he stumbled clumsily after them. The rest of the group were back on their ‘island’ xing a counterweight to the bridge so it could be raised and constructing a camp under Becks’s supervision.

  Two days and nights they’d been here already and both nights, like clockwork, rain had come down in a torrential downpour, soaking them al and making sleep impossible. Tonight hopeful y, with Becks hard at work – a one-man construction team, they’d at least have shelters to huddle beneath.

  ‘You used to work on a ship?’ said Whitmore, his breath wheezing past each word. ‘Was that before you became …

  what did you say you were – some sort of time-travel ing secret agent?’

  ‘I didn’t real y say it like that, Mr Whitmore. Did I?’

  He scratched his beard. ‘I think that’s exactly what you said.’

  ‘Oh wel , even though that does sound a lit le barmy, that pret y much describes me and Becks, so it does.’

  Whitmore shook his head. ‘I’m stil trying to get my head round this being real, you know? It’s just –’

  Liam grinned. ‘Oh, it’l mess with your head al right. That’s for sure.’

  ‘You’re real y from the future?’

  ‘Wel , actual y, not precisely the future as it happens.’

  Whitmore looked confused by that.

  Liam wondered if he should real y say any more. Becks Liam wondered if he should real y say any more. Becks was right in that the more information they handed out to these people the greater the potential risk to blowing the agency’s anonymity. But he also gured what the heck …

  they were here and the future was sixty-ve mil ion years away.

  Might as wel be hung for a sheep as a lamb.

  ‘I was born in Cork, in Ireland in 1896, if you must know. And I should’ve died in 1912.’ He looked at Whitmore and his grin spread even wider. ‘Aboard a ship you might just have heard a lit le something about … the Titanic.’

  The man’s eyes widened. Lam, Franklyn and Jonah joined them then, al ve of them l ing the quiet jungle with their rasping breath.

  ‘What’s up?’ said Lam, noticing the goggle-eyed expression on Whitmore’s face.

  ‘That’s … surely … that’s just impossible!’ blustered Whitmore.

  ‘Wel now,’ replied Liam, looking around at the Cretaceous foliage, ‘you’d think al of this lit le pickle we’re in would be impossible, right? I mean … us lot stranded in dinosaur times?’

  Whitmore ran a hand through his thinning salt and pepper hair. ‘But the Titanic … you were actual y on the Titanic?’

  ‘Junior steward, deck E, so I was.’

  Jonah pushed his frizzy fringe out of eyes that were l ing his face. ‘No … way … dude!’

  l ing his face. ‘No … way … dude!’

  Lam wiped some sweat from his brow. ‘This is just get ing weirder and weirder.’

  ‘I was recruited, see. The agency plucked me moments from death just as the ship’s spine snapped and apparently both halves went sliding under. Made no di erence to time, do you see? It made no di erence to history whether my bones ended up at the bot om of the Atlantic with everyone else’s or not. That’s how the agency recruits …

  poor fools like me who’l never be missed.’

  ‘My God,’ whispered Whitmore. ‘That’s real y quite incredible.’

  ‘What about the other one?’ asked Franklyn.

 
; Jonah nodded appreciatively. ‘Yeah, your foxy goth girlfriend.’

  Liam assumed he was referring to the support unit.

  ‘Becks? No … she’s, uh … she’s certainly not my girlfriend.

  ’ ‘Whatever,’ said Franklyn. ‘Where does she come from?’

  Lam shook his head. ‘Maybe we should be asking when does she come from?’

  Franklyn’s face sti ened at being corrected. ‘Yes …

  when.’

  Liam decided a smal white lie was bet er right now. Tel ing them she was some kind of a robot kil ing machine probably wasn’t the best thing to be tel ing them. The last thing their lit le group needed was a reason not to trust Becks. They al needed each other, and they certainly needed her help.

  needed her help.

  ‘Oh, Becks is from the future. 2050-something or other. I guess that’s why she talks a lit le funny every now and then.’

  ‘She is kind of weird,’ said Franklyn. ‘Like Spock … or something.’

  ‘So, Liam, since it looks like you’re the only one who understands what’s happened here,’ said Whitmore, ‘it seems we’re al going to have to rely on you to get us home. I presume you have some sort of a plan of action?

  You know … beyond merely exploring our immediate surroundings.’

  A plan? The closest thing to doing any ‘planning’ so far had been guring out how he’d use the rubbish machete in his hand if a dinosaur was to suddenly emerge from the undergrowth ahead.

  ‘The plan?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Whitmore, ‘I mean … I presume there’s a way out of this mess for us, isn’t there?’

  Liam could see the other three were staring expectantly at him. ‘Wel , uh … wel , one thing’s for sure, gentlemen. We need to stay right where we are, on that island.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it’s the exact same place that we were.’

  Joseph Lam nodded. ‘The same geo-coordinates as the lab, right?’

  ‘That’s right. We haven’t moved an inch in position …

  just in time. If we happened to up sticks and move camp somewhere else, it would make it even harder for somewhere else, it would make it even harder for someone to nd us. So we’re best staying put right where we are.’

  Whitmore dabbed at his damp face with the cu of his shirt. ‘This agency you work for … are they like a government agency? Like the CIA? Like the FBI?

  Something like that?’

  Liam hadn’t heard of either of those. So he decided to do what he did best: blu . ‘Sure, they’re just like them fel as, Mr Whitmore, but you know … uhh … much bigger and bet er, and, of course, from the future.’

  ‘And they’re going to come for us, right? They’re going to get us al out of here, aren’t they?’

  Liam o ered him a stern, con dent nod. ‘Sure they are. We’ve just got to hold on here. It’l take them a lit le time to nd us … but they wil . I assure you, they wil .’

  They looked at each other uncertainly, until the scraggly beard beneath Whitmore’s stubby round nose stretched with a smile. ‘Wel , al right, then. I’m sure between us we’ve got enough know-how to make do for a few days.’

  His smile spread to the others.

  ‘I’d like to see at least one dinosaur rst, though,’ said Franklyn. ‘Be real lame not to.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Jonah, pul ing out a mobile phone from his pocket. ‘That would be, like, awesome. You know? I could stick it up on YouTube. Whoa! No!’ He pushed his frizzy mop of hair aside. ‘Bet er than that, dude … do it as a payper-download. I could make, like, mil ions out of this …’

  Whitmore shook his head. ‘What is it with you kids Whitmore shook his head. ‘What is it with you kids these days?’

  ‘Opportunity,’ replied Jonah. ‘That’s what it is, my man

  … a golden freakin’ money-makin’ opportunity.’

  Whitmore sighed.

  CHAPTER 27

  65 mil ion years BC, jungle

  Becks stood to one side dispassionately observing the work of the others as they hacked at the slim, straight trunks of the smal er trees they’d already fel ed, stripping branches from their sides to produce usable lightweight logs for construction.

  She had them divided into two groups. One doing this job, the other group lashing the logs together with lengths of twisted vine to form wigwam-shaped frames. On top of these they could layer the big waxy leaves that drooped from the canopy trees. A few layers of those would give them a covering that would almost be waterproof. That had been Liam’s instruction. Make shelters. But her cool grey eyes panned uneasily across the clearing, observing the area of jungle that had been hacked away, the disturbed jungle oor where the smal er trees had been uprooted. Her eyes picked out the slashes of machete blows on other bigger trees that had proven too di cult to fel or uproot and the compressed tracks of footprints on the ground – the distinct oval of signatures of a human presence.

  > [Evaluation: time contamination is increasing]

  Every movement these people made, every footstep, Every movement these people made, every footstep, every swipe of a blunt blade, was adding to a growing count of potential contamination. Yet Liam O’Connor’s instruction to her was a mission priority, an override. As the mission operative, his orders were as nal and nonnegotiable as any hard-coded line of programming in her head.

  He’d been very speci c: that she was to organize the completion of the bridge and the building of a camp. And, for good measure, some kind of smal enclosure, a palisade that they could al hide inside just in case any nasty found its way on to their island.

  And so she had. Just like their last mission, back when her AI software had been assigned the ident. ‘Bob’, she was once again obediently fol owing orders. There was something vaguely comforting about being in a brand-new functioning body, being on a mission once again with Liam O’Connor. They had functioned together very e ciently last time – successful y correcting a signi cant time contamination against exceedingly unfavourable odds. But there’d been something … untidy … about the AI’s learning curve. As Bob, it had discovered that the strict mission parameters could be overwrit en with new ones, that under extreme circumstances the col ection of software routines was actual y capable of making a

  ‘decision’.

  That in itself had been a disturbing realization. As Bob, the AI had learned that its core programming could be subtly in uenced, swayed, by something else: the tiny subtly in uenced, swayed, by something else: the tiny nodule of organic intel igence the computer chip was connected to. The undeveloped foetal brain of this genetical y engineered frame. As Bob, the AI had experienced a eeting taste of something that these humans must al take for granted. Emotion. The AI had discovered something very, very odd … that it actual y

  ‘liked’ Liam O’Connor.

  Since that rst clone body had been irreparably damaged in the snowy woods down the hil from Adolf Hitler’s winter Berghof retreat and the AI uploaded into the eld o ce’s mainframe – an entirely non-organic, disembodied existence – the AI had had much time to re ect on al that it had learned from those six months in the past.

  Conclusions

  1. AI is now capable of referring to the newly developed AI routines as … ‘I’, ‘Me’, ‘Myself’. 2. ‘I’ am now capable of limited decision-making. 3. Within an organic hardware housing, ‘I’ am capable of limited emotional stimulation.

  And most important of al …

  4. ‘I’ ‘like’ Liam O’Connor.

  Becks continued to watch the humans at work and realized Becks continued to watch the humans at work and realized that part of her onboard code was insistently whispering a warning to her that a decision needed to be made, and made very soon. The humans were beginning to cause dangerously unacceptable levels of contamination in this jungle clearing with al that they were doing. With every footstep, with every log being cut down, there was an increased possibility that some fossilized forensic clue would survive sixty-ve mil i
on years to be found in the future, and quite clearly reveal that humans had visited this time.

  Unacceptable.

  Liam O’Connor’s instructions to her were at odds with the basic protocols of journeying into the past, that contamination must be kept to an absolute minimum. Even now, by simply being here, these people could be causing a far greater time wave than the assassination of Edward Chan in 2015 might have caused.

  Recommendation

  1. Terminate al humans, including mission operative Liam O’Connor.

  2. Destroy al traces of human artefacts and habitation in this location.

  3. Self-terminate.

  The recommendation was faultlessly logical and strategical y sound. But that smal nodule of primitive strategical y sound. But that smal nodule of primitive organic mat er reminded her software that Liam was a friend.

  And friends don’t kil friends.

  Becks blinked away the thought. It was an unwelcome distraction.

  Decision Options

  1. Proceed immediately with mission recommendation. 2. Wait for operative Liam O’Connor and discuss. A decision. Never easy. Becks’s internal silicon wafer processor began to rapidly warm up as gigabytes of data rat led through software lters. Her lifeless grey eyes blinked in rapid succession as she desperately struggled to produce an answer and her ngers absentmindedly tightened round the handle of the machete. She barely registered the blonde-haired female human cal ed Laura approaching her.

  ‘Hey!’ the girl cal ed out. ‘You going to give us a hand or just stand there and watch us do the work? Huh?

  Becks?’

  Becks’s eyes slowly swivel ed and locked on the girl, but she said nothing. Her mind was very, very busy.

  CHAPTER 28

  65 mil ion years BC, jungle

  Liam saw it rst: amid the relentless green and ochre of the jungle, it was an unmissable splash of bright crimson. He raised his hand, turned round and put a nger to his lips, shushing Lam and Jonah at the back who’d been chat ering for the last ve minutes about comicbooks. They hushed immediately.

  Whitmore stepped quietly forward and joined him.

  ‘What is it?’