Return To Primordial Island

by Rick Poldark

  Marcy shimmied closer and her eyes widened. “So, it is Dr. Albanese.” She chuckled and covered her mouth with her hand to stifle the sound.

  Tracey now realized that Marcy was a bit younger than her. She figured she was in her mid-twenties or so. “I had a good guy right in front of me, someone with whom I shared so much in common, and I was afraid to open up to him.”

  Marcy reached out and touched Tracey on the hand. “I haven’t met someone like that yet. I didn’t even start to date till the end of college. Grad school was a big commitment, so there wasn’t much dating there.”

  Tracey smiled. This girl sounded like one of her students back at the university. She decided she was starting to like Marcy. “Same here. I didn’t start dating until after grad school, but then I was travelling to dig sites…there just wasn’t the time. On top of that, try finding a guy who understands what I do, let alone finds it interesting. It was always an empty spot in my life. I had accomplished so much, yet I was lonely.”

  Marcy arched an eyebrow. “So, did you and Dr. Albanese…?”

  “Peter? Oh, no.” Tracey chuckled. “I think he always wanted to ask, but… I don’t know. The thought of dating a friend and co-worker was…daunting.”

  “Girl, you are a coward.”

  They shared a stifled chortle.

  “We need to get our rest for tomorrow,” said Tracey. “I have to keep my eyes peeled for carnivorous dinosaurs.”

  “And Dr. Albanese,” added Marcy. “Good night.”

  “Good night.” Tracey rolled over and closed her eyes.

  * * *

  Peter awoke, his vision blurry and his head pounding. His back was killing him, and as he got his bearings, he realized he was lying on a hard surface. He reached out and felt smooth stone beneath him. As his vision adjusted, he realized that he was in a dark room illuminated only by a red crystal orb embedded in the wall.

  So much for being treated like a god. He sat up, fighting back a wave of nausea, realizing that he was likely concussed and definitely dehydrated. He closed his eyes for a moment, reached into himself for his special healing power, and allowed it to wash over him. When he opened his eyes again, the pain and nausea was gone.

  He pushed himself to standing and saw that he was in a twenty by twenty-foot stone room that was sealed off by an iron gate. The entire room was cast in a red hue due to the crystal illumination. Peter wondered if the crystal was only for light. He stepped forward, gripped the bars, and peeked outside.

  A reptilian guard clutching a crude spear patrolled the hallway. Peter figured he was in some kind of dungeon cell. He wondered what had gone wrong upstairs. They hadn’t killed him outright, but he was being held prisoner. He thought back to the thinking lizard and the images projected within his mind, the historical record. What did he see that maybe he wasn’t supposed to see? He wondered why he was being kept alive. Was it for interrogation? Would there be torture?

  He heard sounds coming from somewhere down the hallway, and four guards marched down toward his cell. Peter dashed back toward his corner where he had been left, and sat with his back leaning against the wall. When the guards stopped in front of his cell, he rubbed his head and moaned, playing up his injuries.

  One guard produced a large iron key and unlocked the iron gate. It swung outward, and three of the guards entered his cell. Two of them flanked him, pointing their spear tips at his chest. The third held a bag. It gestured for Peter to rise with its three clawed hand, eyeing him with those cold, black eyes.

  Peter appeared to struggle to stand, clutching his back and groaning, playing the part of the weak and injured. Acting had never been his strong suit, but he figured these lizards’ inexperience with human body language would smooth over the rough edges of his performance as nuances were often lost in translation.

  The two flanking guards jabbed spear tips at him, menacing him. The third reached into his sack and produced a snake coiled around the lizard man’s arm. It licked the air, tasting it, searching.

  Peter knew this wasn’t good, whatever it was for. The lizard man extended its arm towards Peter, and the snake stretched in his direction, its eyes glinting red in the crystalline light, flicking its tongue in and out of its mouth.

  Peter wondered if it was a test. He decided not to flinch. His only option, flanked by sharp spear tips, was to remain still and calm. The snake hovered its face in front of Peter’s, touching Peter’s nose with its tongue, drinking in his barely concealed fear. Faster than Peter’s mind could process, the snake lunged at his face and sank its fangs into his left cheek.

  Peter instinctively grabbed the snake with both hands, but the toxin worked fast. His vision quickly blurred and his head swam. His muscles went limp, and he dropped to the floor, his head hitting the stone hard. Yet, he felt no pain.

  The serpent handler placed the snake back into the bag and left the cell. The other two picked Peter up and followed the third, dragging Peter’s legs across the hard ground. Peter was helpless as they dragged him out of the dungeon block. He felt nothing, which led him to believe that he had been anesthetized.

  They brought him to another cold, dark room and lay him on a stone slab. It looked to Peter like an altar, and his mind raced with terrible notions of sacrifice. He lay face-up as the guards backed away. Another lizard man stepped forward, palming a small blue orb. Peter felt this being enter his mind, only this time there was no communication, no wordless voice.

  Rather, this time it felt as if this creature was accessing his thoughts, more specifically his memories. Peter tried to resist, but he had no access to his muscles for fight or flight. He tried to control his thoughts, directing this lizard being away from anything sensitive, but to no avail. He felt it access his thoughts about the orbs that resided in his chest, his intentions regarding the lizard man race, as well as his feelings for the Umazoa, Mary, and even Tracey. He felt the creature probe his deepest secrets, specifically the plan to evacuate the Umazoan village should he not return. The reptilian inquisitor then toggled through more memories and impressions, settling on Peter’s memory of the vision of the ape race. The reptile probed deeper. To Peter, it felt as if someone was scraping around the inside of his skull with a sharp implement.

  At last, the reptilian inquisitor released Peter’s mind. It motioned to the guards to take him away. Peter knew he’d served his purpose, whatever it was, and he wasn’t going to like whatever came next. He immediately pondered his two possibilities. He could tap into the death orb and wipe all those out around him, but then he’d be left lying on the ground, paralyzed while more would surely come and kill him where he lay helpless. His other option was to heal himself quietly so when he took further action, he’d be strong enough to run.

  He decided to heal himself, tapping his life orb within his chest. Unfortunately, it caused his chest to illuminate more. Worse yet, it pulsated as he healed, but he hadn’t any other options.

  He was dragged quite a distance through tunnels and eventually laid to rest on a crude raft made of long branches lashed together. Other lizard beings emerged all around him. Some appeared to be females, as apparent by their curvier appearances and the shape of breasts underneath their crude tunics.

  As Peter pondered the perplexing juxtaposition of mammalian traits in the reptilian creatures, they arranged skulls and bones around him on the raft. The more he focused on what they were doing, the more his healing suffered from interruption, as the ability required intense concentration.

  He decided to close his eyes and block out everything going on around him. He used all of his focus to expel the snake toxin from his body. His chest grew in warmth as he reached deep, tapping the power of the life orb. He felt his body’s cells metabolize the toxin, gradually restoring agency over his own muscles.

  He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but when he opened his eyes, he was blinded by sunlight. He felt every muscle of his body once again, and he felt the island breeze on his skin. He felt sweat trickle down
his right temple, and he heard the burbling of running water. As he squinted and his eyes adjusted to sunlight, he processed the scene enfolding around him.

  The thinking lizard from before loomed above him in some ceremonial garment, hands extended out, and it was making strange throaty sounds. Others stood around it, watching the thinking lizard. Peter wanted to lift his head to see what was at his feet, but to do so would have been to reveal his restoration.

  Instead, he closed his eyes once more, this time tapping into the death orb inside his chest. He hadn’t wanted to consider using this power, but he now felt as if he had no choice. If he didn’t kill them, they’d kill him. At least he was outside, where he could make a break for it before reinforcements arrived.

  It was his first time attempting to tap into this dark energy, so he was uncertain of how to proceed. He reached out and sensed their lifeforces. Their heartbeats, slower than those of humans, beat within his mind. He used the power of the life orb to accomplish this, but he’d have to access the death orb to quash their lives. He reached out, probing within himself, searching for the dark energy, straining.

  His concentration was interrupted by the loud blowing of a horn and the sensation of being lifted. He opened his eyes and saw two lizard men standing over him, carrying his raft laden with skulls and bones like pallbearers hoisting a coffin. They took several steps forward, and Peter was lowered again. Only this time, the ground wasn’t solid. He bobbed up and down. By the time he realized he was floating in water, they had released the raft, and the current took him away.

  As he passed away from them and reached what he figured to be a safe distance, he lifted his head to look at his feet. He was, indeed, being sent down a river, away from the lizard hive. Again, he heard the blaring of a horn, over and over again. As he lay back, out of the corner of his eye he swore he saw movement. Startled, he sat up on his elbows and caught the crest of something dip beneath the water.

  His heart raced as he reached out for signs of life in close proximity, and he found something. Something big. The sensation reminded him of fishing on his uncle’s boat and the fish finder pinging something large. Only Peter wasn’t fishing. He was the bait.

  To his left, in his peripheral vision, he caught a swift movement and turned his head in time to see five feet of arched neural spines disappear under the water, followed by two feet of a longer run of spines. Peter saw a large shadow pass ahead of the raft.

  He sat up on his raft, spilling bones into the river as the current gently swept him along. Up ahead, he saw a long rock rise out of the water. However, as he was swept closer, he realized it was no rock. It was a crocodilian head breaching the water’s surface, elongated spines rising behind it. Peter rolled off the raft and into the water as a large mouth opened, chomping down on the raft with large conical teeth.

  The raft immediately splintered under the force of massive jaws as Peter frantically kicked his legs, swimming sideways towards shore. Fifty feet of shadow passed under him. Its tail swept back and forth, propelling the predator through the water. Peter knew this theropod, and he knew that he didn’t stand a chance against a Spinosaurus in the water.

  He also knew, given the length of the Spinosaurus and the width of the river, he had a brief moment to make it to shore before it turned completely around to make another pass at him. As he swam, attempting a direct perpendicular route to shore, his trajectory took on more of a hypotenuse due to the river’s current. He heard a massive splash behind him, and fear gripped his brain as he registered its meaning. It was coming for him. He had only seconds.

  He felt the river bank ride up to meet him, and he shifted to a standing position. He ran, splashing, making a break for shore as he caught the massive theropod rising up out of the water behind him. He darted to the right as it dove at him, missing him. It, however, collided with him, spinning him sideways and knocking him off his feet.

  It turned abruptly, pushing him back into the river. Its size made its movements on land clumsy and imprecise, and it struggled to snatch the tiny morsel. However, the current took Peter once more, rolling him past its hind legs. It spun around on its legs, roaring in fury and whipping its fanned tail, as it searched the river for its elusive meal.

  Peter quickly held his breath and dipped below the surface of the water. If it couldn’t spot him, he had a chance. If it spotted him, in the water using its fanned tail, it would close the distance within seconds.

  Under the water’s surface, rolling in the current, Peter was unable to see if the massive beast was pursuing him. Instead, he curled into a ball, bracing himself for large teeth closing in on him. At last, he had to come up for air. He breached the surface, gasping, his lungs burning as they filled with much needed oxygen. He rubbed the water out of his eyes as he heard another roar and saw the Spinosaurus slide back into the water.

  Peter felt the current pick up, and the jungle on either side raced past him. The water gurgled louder now, and he turned to find that he had entered rapids. He looked over his shoulder and saw the arched spines racing towards him, closing in fast.

  Suddenly, he felt the sharp pain of being slammed against a rock, knocking the wind out of him. He dipped beneath the surface, swallowing water, and popped back up again. He collided with another rock, slamming his head, and warm blood ran into his eyes. He moved faster now, merciless against the quickening current, bouncing like a pin ball against rocks, being rolled by dips and turns in the river.

  Massive jaws opened and snapped shut, barely missing him, as the Spinosaurus was forced to stand up in the shallow depth, buying Peter just enough time to be swept away from it and out of its reach. He glimpsed that it only stood there, its chest heaving from exertion. Apparently, it had decided against pursuing such a small morsel through the shallow rapids.

  Relieved, Peter’s triumph was cut short by a massive blow to his head and the world going dark.

  Chapter 4

  Tracey saw the clearing made by the aptly named ‘Daisy Cutters’ out of the helicopter window. Her stomach lurched as the copter dipped, hovering over a spot in the clearing. She felt the landing blades touch dirt, and the pilot signaled for her and the others to exit.

  As she hopped out, ducking her head, she saw the other copters and teams exiting their aircraft. The choppers took off immediately, and Tracey scanned the ground for animal prints, specifically theropod prints.

  Her attention, however, was drawn to the sky, which was flickering. Discharges of electricity forked horizontally across the sky. It appeared as if a dome covered the island, and the atmosphere outside was hot pink in color. Nielsen walked directly to her.

  “Do you see any prints?” he asked, looking up at the sky. He saw she was looking up at the show rather than down at the ground. “It’s the containment bubble. It’s unstable. The helicopters have to get out before it decompensates.”

  As the staccato chopping of helicopter blades grew distant, they were replaced by the gunning of Humvee engines. Tracey looked around and watched Collins’ men assemble the staging base. Poseidon Tech staff melded with the paramilitary security detail, erecting tents and establishing com links. Collins’ men set up a perimeter around base camp, while the weapons teams set up the Humvee-mounted weaponry. Pilots fueled the two Hueys for reconnaissance and potential air support.

  Tracey noted this expedition was larger and better equipped than the last one. She had never heard of a belt-fed grenade launcher before, but it sounded promising. She allowed herself to feel cautiously optimistic. “It’s a little big, don’t you think?”

  “What do you mean?” shouted Nielsen over the din.

  “Don’t you think this is going to attract attention?”

  Collins strode up to the two of them, watching his men and shouting directions.

  “Dr. Moran is afraid we’re being too noisy,” said Nielsen. “That we’re going to draw the dinosaurs to us.”

  Collins shook his head. “Negative. We’ve got radar up and operational. Within
minutes we’ll have drones scouting the area.” As if in response to his statement, several drones mounted with mini cameras buzzed into the air like bumble bees and scattered.

  “Dr. Moran, what about the ground?” reminded Nielsen. “We need you to look for prints, anything that might indicate an imminent threat.”

  When Tracey looked hesitant, Collins added, “I’ll send one of my men with you.”

  Tracey glared at him. “If a T. rex decided to barrel out of the tree line and attack me, your man would only be the appetizer to my entrée.”

  Collins nodded. He waved at one of the men operating one of the Humvees. The man shouted something at another, who then hopped in the back. The first man jumped into the driver’s seat, turned the ignition, and threw the Humvee into gear. He drove over to where Tracey, Collins, and Nielsen were standing and stopped.

  “This is Trevino and Roach.” Each man nodded in-turn. “You’ll go with them,” said Collins, gesturing to the Humvee with his right hand. “They are more than equipped to take down a T. rex.”

  “We’ve got your back, ma’am,” said Trevino.

  “Yeah?” said Tracey. “I feel safer already.” She lingered a moment, maintaining eye contact with Collins. She sighed and hopped into the Humvee. The man in the back manning the grenade launcher offered her his hand, but she ignored it.

  “Follow her every instruction,” said Collins. “She’s the expert.”

  “Yessir,” said Trevino and Roach, almost in unison. They took off.

  As Trevino drove away, he looked at Tracey and smiled. “Where to first?”

  Tracey looked around. “Take me out a ways.”

  “Sure thing.”

  The Humvee tore off past the tents and out into the clearing.

  “Slow down,” said Tracey.

  Trevino dropped it into low gear and reduced his speed. She hung out over the open side, scanning the ground. “Stop. Here.”