The Extinction Series | Book 7 | Primordial Earth 7

by Higgins, Baileigh

  Murmurs ran through the crowd, but gradually the throng dispersed. One by one, the people returned to their places, and the staff regained control. Soon, the ward was back to normal. Or as normal as it was ever going to be.

  With a sigh of relief, Kat climbed down from her perch and replaced the speaker. The entire ordeal had taken more out of her than she’d bargained for, and her muscles shook with exhaustion.

  She stumbled toward the nearest chair and fell into it seconds before her legs gave out. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and took a few breaths. That turned out to be a mistake when she dissolved into a fit of coughing.

  A nearby nurse eyed her with concern and hurried over. “Mistress Mewes? Are you alright?”

  Kat nodded and raised one hand to ward her off while she tried to catch her breath. “I’m… okay.” She’d barely spoken when her chest convulsed once more, and it felt like she was drowning.

  “Shouldn’t you be in bed? You’re sick, aren’t you?” the nurse added, hovering over Kat. “And you’re pregnant.”

  “I’m… fine,” Kat wheezed, tears burning her eyelids.

  “Dr. Bloomberg! Somebody find Dr. Bloomberg,” the nurse called. “We need his help over here.”

  Kat closed her eyes and swore beneath her breath. Not him. Anybody but him.

  With Dr. Bloomberg on her case, she could forget about investigating the plane. He’d chase her straight back to bed. And who could blame him?

  “I’m okay. Really. No need for a doctor,” Kat said in a last-ditch effort to get away. Deep down, she knew it was a mistake, but the thought of the plane egged her on. “I can find my own way from here on, thanks.”

  “But… you can’t. This is suicide,” the nurse protested.

  “I can, and I will,” Kat insisted, but her voice was weak, and so was her resolve. “I’m leaving.”

  She stood up and took a few steps, but her legs turned to jelly. She’d have fallen if it wasn’t for a young orderly who caught her. Sweeping her up into his arms, he carried her to a nearby couch.

  Kat hardly registered any of that. It felt like she was about to faint, and the room swam around her. Her lungs constricted and slime bubbled up her throat. “I can’t… I can’t breathe.”

  “Let me help,” the nurse said. Removing Kat’s mask, she handed her a bowl. “Spit into that.”

  “What?” Kat asked, confused.

  “You’ll see.”

  With cool efficiency, the nurse leaned her forward and pummeled her on the back. That triggered a bout of coughing, and Kat spent the next few minutes hacking up phlegm. It hurt, and it was anything but pretty. But she was able to breathe afterward.

  “There, there. It’s alright.” The nurse dabbed a wet cloth across her forehead and handed her a glass of water.

  “Thanks,” Kat mumbled.

  “Mistress Mewes. What is the meaning of this?” a voice boomed.

  Kat flinched and looked up into the face of Dr. Bloomberg. He looked furious, an expression she’d never seen on him before. “I’m s… sorry.”

  “I should certainly hope so,” he said, pressing one hand against her forehead. “You’re burning up, my dear.”

  Kat hardly heard him. His voice sounded like it was coming from a long distance off, and she struggled to focus. “Where’s Callum? I want Callum.”

  Bloomberg exchanged a look with the nurse. “She’s running a high temperature, possibly delirious. We need to get her into a bed right away.”

  “We don’t have any beds available, doctor,” the nurse said. “We’re full.”

  “I have a spare room in my practice upstairs,” Dr. Bloomberg said.

  “Are you sure, doctor? She’s contagious. You’ll have to quarantine her if you don’t want your other patients to be affected,” the nurse said.

  “I’m sure. That way, I can keep a close eye on her,” Bloomberg said.

  “Of course, doctor,” the nurse said, turning to the orderly. “Fetch a wheelchair and take Mistress Mewes to Dr. Bloomberg’s offices.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the orderly acknowledged. He scurried off and disappeared into the crowd.

  “I’ll meet you both there in ten minutes,” Bloomberg said to the nurse. “I have to stop at the dispensary first. She needs medicine.”

  “If you can find any,” the nurse said. “We’re running low on everything.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” the doctor said. “Please, look after her.”

  “I’ll make sure she’s okay,” the nurse said, bobbing her head.

  “Much appreciated,” Dr. Bloomberg said, hurrying away.

  Kat stared at the ground, feeling miserable. Her thoughts were confused and disjointed. On the one hand, she understood she was sick. But she also missed Callum and couldn’t fathom why he wasn’t there with her. Where is he?

  Inside Kat’s body, a war was raging. The Red Flux raced through her veins, spreading its tentacles far and wide. Her immune system had done a great job of fighting it off, but it was failing. In a last-ditch effort to purge the disease, her body sought to burn it out. Her temperature soared, and her fever spiked. Her lips and mouth grew dry, and her parched tissues cried for relief. “I’m thirsty.”

  “I’ll get you some more water,” the nurse said. “Stay here.”

  “Okay,” Kat said, but she forgot all about it in the next instant when she spotted a man with red hair. “Callum?”

  The man ignored her, walking toward the stairwell. His red hair shone like a beacon, bobbing up and down through the crowd. Without thinking twice, she jumped to her feet and followed.

  By the time Kat got to the stairs, he was gone. Frantic, she looked around. “Callum? Where are you? Where did you go?” The room. He must’ve gone to our room.

  Her heart leaped in her chest, and she ran up the steps to the bedroom she shared with him. It was their special place away from the pressures and stress of life. A place where it was just the two of them. I’m coming, Callum.

  But Kat’s body had other ideas. Weakened by her illness, she collapsed partway up the first flight of stairs. Her legs gave way, and she lost her balance. With a cry, she grabbed for the railing but missed. “No!”

  Unable to stop herself, Kat rolled to the bottom in a mad tumble. Each jarring impact sent fresh pain stabbing through her body. Blood filled her mouth, her knee twisted at an angle, and her shoulder popped. Finally, she landed at the bottom with a terrific crash.

  Staring up at the ceiling, her last thought was of the baby. With one trembling hand, she touched her stomach. As a shudder tore through her body, she wondered. Have I killed you, my sweet? My unborn miracle?

  From a deeply buried part of her, self-loathing sprung forth. She should’ve known this would happen. When had she ever done anything good? Everything she touched turned to dust. Now she’d killed her unborn child. I’m cursed. I’m cursed, and Callum is better off without me.

  Chapter 10 - Callum

  Callum huddled close to the fire and stretched out his hands to the flames. As the fiery heat warmed his cold fingers, he gazed around the campsite. They’d chosen well, setting up on a low hill with a good field of fire all around. On two sides, a sharp cliff plunged down into a deep gulley, providing protection from that direction.

  Armed guards lined the rest of the perimeter, fortified by smoldering bonfires. Even dinosaurs feared the yellow death, and as long as the fires burned, they should be safe. Or so Ric said, and Callum hoped he was right. The Exiles had more experience with the wilds, and he trusted in their expertise. For the moment, at least.

  “Are ye hungry, O’ Neill?” Callum asked, pointing to a pot of bubbling stew next to their fire.

  “Aye, Sir. I’m starving,” O’ Neill answered.

  “Then dish up, man. We need to eat if we plan to last on the morrow,” Callum said.

  “Truer words were never spoken,” Ric said with a grunt.

  O’ Neill obeyed the command, plating up three heaping bowls of stew and biscuits. Silence
descended as the men settled down to the serious business of eating. All around the camp, the sound of scraping pots and clinking cutlery filled the gathering dusk. The last rays of sunlight winked out on the horizon, and the chill of night set into the air.

  As soon as they’d eaten and washed up, Callum stood up. “I’m off to bed. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

  “I hope you plan on sharing the watch, at least,” Ric said. “I’m taking the midnight shift. You?”

  “I’m on for the dawn shift, so shut yer gob,” Callum muttered before ducking into his tent. It was a tiny affair, scarcely big enough to accommodate his tall frame, but it kept the mosquitoes out. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.

  An hour before dawn, he woke with a start when O’ Neill shook his shoulder. “Time for your watch, Sir.”

  “I’ll be right out,” Callum said, smothering an enormous yawn.

  “I’ll give you a few minutes, Sir.”

  “Thank ye,” Callum said.

  Rubbing his bleary eyes, he pulled on his boots and ducked out of the tent. A nearby bucket of water beckoned, and he splashed his face. The icy liquid shocked him wide awake, and he felt almost human again. After relieving himself in a bush, he headed back to the fire.

  A pot of coffee simmered next to the coals, and he poured himself a cup of the bitter brew. It burned all the way down his esophagus and hit him right between the eyes like a sledgehammer. “Now that’s what I call real coffee.”

  After securing his knife and ax onto his belt, Callum checked the load on his rifle. Everything looked good, so he slung the weapon across his shoulder and marched toward the edge of camp. There, he found O’ Neill, waiting patiently to be relieved. “Go catch a few winks, man. I’ll take over for ye.”

  “Thank you, Sir, but I think I’ll get started on breakfast. I’m not tired.”

  “Suit yerself,” Callum said. “I would’na mind a spot of food myself, to be honest.”

  “I’ll have it hot and ready, Sir,” O’ Neill said.

  Callum turned his attention to his duties. It wasn’t something he took lightly. Standing guard was a matter of life and death in this world. In most worlds, actually. That hadn’t changed over the years. Or the eons.

  He stared out over the open field, noting the changes in terrain. Often, the ground could be deceiving. While it might look flat, it could easily hide ditches and holes. Rifts in the ground that a predatory beast could take advantage of.

  The predawn air was clear and crisp, lightening to a soft gray as the sun began its ascent on the horizon. A chill breeze swirled around his form, and he pulled up his collar to protect his ears.

  He hoped the weather would hold long enough for them to finish their mission. One that would start in earnest as soon as they broke camp. According to their map, there were several towns ahead of them. The Primes and Exiles knew most, and they were likely picked clean.

  If they wanted the real goods, they’d have to push past that, further than any of them had gone before. Chewing on his bottom lip, he wondered what they were letting themselves in for. Anything could lie ahead.

  Callum was not the kind of man who believed in his own immortality. Death wasn’t something that always happened to someone else. He knew it could very well be him next, and he’d experienced several close brushes with the Grim Reaper to prove just how easy it was. He possessed no magical charm or aura that would guarantee his safety.

  In the past, this knowledge hadn’t bothered him all that much. One day his time would come, and there was no use fretting and worrying about it in advance. But now, circumstances had changed. Kat waited for him back at Prime, and within her grew their unborn child. As yet a seedling. A tiny fetus. One that carried their combined DNA.

  I don’t want to die, he realized. With that fact came a measure of fear. What would happen if they encountered true danger? Would he stand and fight? Or would he be the coward and run? To live another day for his child and his woman?

  It would be no life for him, though. That much he knew. He could not face Kat or their child with such a burden of shame on his conscience. No. It was better to go down fighting than to live the life of a weakling. I’m sorry, Kat. I hope I make it back to ye, but if I don’t, I hope ye understand.

  Shaking off the morbid thought, he reminded himself why he was there. He was on watch, and the safety of his soldiers lay in his hands. Partially, at least. Dotted around the camp were several more like him. They huddled close to the dying flames of the bonfires, yawning and shivering.

  “I can’t even feel me legs,” he muttered and stamped his feet to get the blood circulating once more. Shuffling closer to the fire, he soaked up the last of its heat while he stared out at the horizon. His gaze scanned every tree, rock, rise, and patch of field with minute attention, not missing a thing.

  He repeated this procedure over and over as the minutes ticked by. Boredom set in, but he refused to let himself be distracted. He spotted a nearby guard slumped over in a daze and frowned. That won’t do. That won’t do at all.

  With determined steps, he strode toward the man. As he neared the soldier, he opened his mouth to berate him, but something made him pause. The man’s station was close to an outcropping of brush, rocks, and stunted trees. The perfect hiding spot for predators.

  The tree closest to the man stirred, and its branches rained down tiny droplets of dew. A shadow crept across the ground, and a clawed foot advanced. Seven feet above that, a pair of slitted yellow eyes gazed at the unwary guard. Two bony growths stuck out above each eye, and Callum’s blood ran cold. A Carnotaurus.

  Small compared to a T-rex, they made up in speed what they lacked in size. Ferocious carnivores, they were fast and deadly. And now one of them had the camp within its sights, and the unsuspecting soldier would be its first victim.

  Callum dropped into a low crouch but kept moving closer. He removed the rifle from his back. As soon as he was within range, he dropped to one knee and raised the gun to his shoulders. Braced for the impact, he sighted down the barrel.

  The crosshairs lined up with the Carnotaur’s eyes, and Callum’s entire world shrunk until it encompassed that single yellow eye. Taking a deep breath, he breathed out slowly, steadied his aim, and squeezed the trigger.

  The rifle bucked, and he remained frozen to the spot. Waiting. Waiting to see if the bullet found its intended target.

  The Carnotaurus threw back its head and roared. Blood spurted from its ravaged eye socket and poured down its thick, muscled neck. It clawed at its snout with stubby forearms and shook its head.

  “Damn. It’s not going down,” Callum muttered, raising his gun for a second shot. Then he paused. Something was happening.

  The Carnotaurus slumped toward the ground and plowed through the earth, raising a cloud of dust. A last dying snort blew from its nostrils before it sagged into death. The beast was dead.

  “Thank the Gods,” Callum said, slumping with relief as the camp exploded into frenzied action all around him.

  The guard he’d saved was shocked into immobility. He stood like a statue, staring at the corpse of the Carnotaurus mere feet from his station. Stuttering breaths escaped his lips, and his complexion was as white as snow.

  “That’ll teach him to sleep on the job,” Callum said with a smile of satisfaction.

  Seconds later, Ric and O’ Neill appeared at his side. Together, they walked toward the fallen Carnotaurus. It lay motionless on the ground, its ruined eye a bloody crater in its skull.

  Ric prodded the dead dinosaur with his foot. “What happened?”

  “Yonder guard was having a nap, and about to get eaten. I took the beast down before it could finish the job,” Callum explained.

  Ric pinned the unfortunate guard to the spot with a wicked glare. “You. What’s your name? And where are you from? Prime or Exile?”

  “My name is H… Harry, Sir, and I’m an Exile,” the young man stuttered.

  “You’re lucky you’re not dead,” Ric said. “Y
ou’ll be on wagon duty for the duration of the trip.”

  “Ye… yes, Sir,” the guard said before running off into the camp.

  Callum nodded with approval. The guard was scarcely more than a boy, and his punishment would serve as an example to the rest. Wagon duty was a dirty and thankless job. It comprised cleaning the tack, caring for the animals, loading and unloading supplies. Still, it was better than dying.

  “Well,” Callum said. “Time for breakfast.”

  “The food is ready, Sir,” O’Neill said.

  “Are you joining us, Ric?” Callum asked.

  “I’ll be there shortly. I just want to get a team onto this carcass,” Ric said. “No sense in wasting good meat?”

  “We have time for that?” Callum asked.

  “It won’t take more than an hour to butcher and treat this meat,” Ric said. “Some wagons have drying racks in the back, and we can hang them over the fires tonight.”

  “Clever,” Callum said, wondering what else he could learn from the Exiles.

  As he turned to walk away, Ric called out. “By the way. That was an excellent shot. Almost as good as I could’ve done.”

  Callum grinned. Coming from Ric, that was high praise indeed. The day was off to a good start, and he hoped their luck would hold. Here’s to a prosperous trip and full wagons.

  Chapter 11 - Sandi

  Sandi hurried toward the far side of the hallway. The exit beckoned, and she needed to find out what was going on. If it was indeed a plane from Vancouver, it might carry the medicine they needed to treat the Red Flux. The antibiotics she needed if she wanted to save Kat’s life. “Excuse me, please. Let me through. Watch out.”

  A nurse grabbed her arm. “What about us? What are we supposed to do?”

  “Keep order. Make sure everyone stays calm and remains at their post,” Sandi said, pushing forward.

  “But what was that noise?” the nurse added, her expression alarmed. “Is it really a plane?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll find out what’s going on,” Sandi said.