Primordia 3: The Lost World—Re-Evolution

by Greig Beck

  Emma grinned as she drove; it sounded gross, but the tender, juicy steak with the salty, melted peanut butter tasted like heaven. Probably about a million, billion calories, she bet, but tonight, it’d be one each, plus fries, then pie for dessert, and all washed down with endless sodas—what the hell, they were celebrating.

  No, they weren’t, she thought as her smile flattened; she’d make a show of celebrating, laughing, and smiling, but they were saying goodbye to Ben before he and his team headed off. She knew exactly what he’d be walking into, and she knew he’d already been trapped there once, for 10 long, horrifying years.

  Ben became trapped the first time because he saved her, and now he was doing it for Zach, her, and the entire world. He was the most selfless man she had ever known.

  Emma blinked away watering eyes. He was also the most insane man she had ever known. The risk of being trapped there again or being torn to shreds was so high it was off the charts. She felt a lump in her throat, and her morbid train of thought was only broken by Zach’s laughter from the back seat.

  “Dad, I’m putting my fries on my burger this time.”

  Ben turned in the seat next to her, looking back at his son. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m putting my fries on my burger, and I’m asking for extra crispy bacon, two layers, to jam on that bad boy as well.”

  “I’m doing that too,” Zach said enthusiastically. “What else?”

  “Fried egg,” Ben added.

  “Um, okay.” Zach’s grin widened. “And…?”

  Ben umm’d, and Emma nudged him. “That’s enough. After that, your blood pressure will probably make your head explode.”

  “But what a way to go.” Ben laughed as he winked at Zach who joined in, having no idea what blood pressure meant, but probably thinking it sounded pretty cool.

  They were heading along Lake Road with the river on one side and the urban area on the other, when Emma felt the familiar tingle in her stomach.

  “Oh no.”

  The lights went out, and just for a few seconds, it was like being in the vacuum of space. Then everything came back on.

  She turned to Ben. “What just…?

  “Watch out!” he yelled.

  Emma’s head whipped back to the front as a man stood in the center of the street. She nearly stood the car on its nose as she stopped so suddenly, and the guy raised both hands, fists clenched as though he was going to bring them down on the hood.

  “What. The. Hell?” Ben stared open-mouthed.

  The guy had on gray overalls and only stood about five feet tall. But his shoulders and arms looked so powerful they nearly burst through his clothing. His fists were still raised and his hands were large, gnarled, and covered in hair.

  “Oh, Ben,” Emma began and pushed herself back in her seat as they stared at the man, and he stared back at them. “His face.”

  Emma couldn’t look away from that visage—his tiny, dark eyes stared out from under a jutting, shelf-like brow-ridge, and his jaw was weak and receding. Hair grew all the way down to his bushy eyebrows, on his cheeks, and sides of his face, as well as hanging long and wiry hair to his shoulders.

  “Don’t stare,” Zach said. “It’s rude and they don’t like it.”

  Zach leaned between them and made some shapes with his hands. The small eyes of the deformed-looking guy followed his fingers for a moment and then looked like he snorted from wide nostrils before moving on.

  “The Neans are okay.” Zach sat back. “But they really hate being stared at just ‘cause they’re a bit ugly.”

  Emma and Ben watched as the hunched man crossed the road in a bow-legged gait to join with more people exactly like him—men and women.

  “Neans,” Emma said softly.

  “As in, Neanderthals.” Ben half turned. “How long have you known about them?”

  “Huh?” Zach frowned. “About the Neans?” His frown deepened and his mouth curled up a little in the corners as though waiting for the punch line. When it didn’t come, he went on. “Like forever.”

  “What do they do?” Emma asked.

  “The tough stuff usually. They’re really strong.” He pointed. “See the guy in the blue cap? That’s Gorin; he’s the Ohio state arm-wrestling champion.”

  Ben and Emma continued to stare, and Zach sighed theatrically.

  “Can we go now?”

  Ben and Emma looked at each other, and she could tell exactly what Ben was thinking: the Neanderthals never died out in this version of reality. The next version they might be gone again, but one thing was for sure: the changes were now working their way up the evolutionary chain and were about to reach them. They might be next.

  “Yeah, sure, buddy. The peanut, bacon, and egg burgers are on me.” Ben glanced again out the window at the group of powerfully built hominids. And Emma noticed that he slumped a little in his seat.

  PART 2—JUST A SINGLE TICK ON THE EVOLUTIONARY CLOCK

  “Time was a film run backward. Suns fled and ten million moons fled after them.” ― Ray Bradbury, A Sound of Thunder

  CHAPTER 23

  Eagle Eye Observatory, Burnet, Texas—5 Days to Comet Apparition

  “Impossible.” Jim Henson stared into the viewing piece of the 12.5-inch Newtonian reflector. The massive steel tube was now pitted with rust spots on the outside but was too expensive to replace and even cleaning the entire telescopic infrastructure was a bitch.

  However, inside the highly polished glass lenses and mirrors, plus large view aperture, still gave the man crisp images of the solar system. Henson typed rapidly into his computer and then stared.

  “Predictive position plotting now gives us a 91% chance of a strike.” He sat back. “This is big.”

  Andy Gallagher leaned away from his computer screen. “P/2018-YG874, Primordia, has had close calls before. Besides, it’s basically a massive chunk of iron. It’ll survive.”

  Henson typed and shook his head. “Primordia is huge, but this little guy is no lightweight. Its composition is…” He read from his screen, “… around 20% being a mixture of nickel, iridium, palladium, platinum, gold, magnesium, plus some osmium, ruthenium, and rhodium thrown in for good measure. But its base, and 80% of its composition, is also solid damn iron.” He looked up. “It’s an astral ball bearing.”

  Gallagher bobbed his head. “A ball bearing meets a wrecking ball—no contest. My money is still on a no-strike—they’ll miss by a thousand miles.”

  “You’re forgetting something.” Henson folded his arms on top of his prodigious belly. “Primordia is magnetic.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Emma and Zach dropped Ben at the airport and she pulled in at a far runway, slowed, and then stopped. He sucked in a huge breath and stepped out.

  Ben immediately saw at the end of one of the longest runways a massive airplane sitting there.

  “Wow, Dad, is that one yours?” Zach grabbed his arm and hung on, his mouth hanging in an open-mouthed grin.

  “Yep, that’d be it—the LRS-B.” Ben could just make out Drake as well as his mercenaries standing around outside. But the airplane exceeded his expectations. It was a retired Long-Range Strike bomber, or LRS-B—matte-black in its radar-reflective paint, looking like some sort of hulking metallic bat.

  “Looks fast,” Zach said.

  “Subsonic maximum speed. And it can fly for 5,000 miles before we need to refuel.” He looked down and smiled. “In mid-air.”

  “Oh wow.” Zach nodded. “I so want to go on it.”

  “Looks fast, and expensive,” Emma said, standing beside him and folding her arms. “Does the military know you are stealing one of their stealth planes?”

  “Hiring, not stealing, and at great cost. And the LRS-B is an obsolete model now, even though it still has state-of-the-art propulsion, computer systems, radar technology, and can even withstand heavy weapons attack.” He winked at her. “And you don’t want to know what it’s costing to hire it, including a pilot, fuel, a drop-crate, plus extras.”

  “The
GDP of a small country, I bet.” She lifted her chin. “But worth it I guess to get there fast and without anyone asking too many questions.”

  “Yeah, the radar deflection alone will allow us to sneak into South America without them even knowing about it.” Ben got Zach in a headlock. “Hey, I’ll give you a tour when I get back, promise.”

  Zach nodded and laughed, and then pointed to the men and women watching them from in front of the bomber. “Are they your friends?”

  Ben turned, first to the group and then back to Emma. She rolled her eyes. “Friends, yeah.”

  Ben just smiled. “Well, they’re definitely going to be my travel buddies. But my real friends Drake and Helen are there.”

  Zach stared for a while and then turned his large eyes up to him. “Dad?”

  “Yeah?” Ben crouched and Zach dropped his gaze to his shoes. He wiped his nose. “What’s up, buddy?”

  Zach continued to keep his head down and when he spoke, his voice was tiny. “I don’t want you to go. I have a funny feeling in my tummy.”

  “A pain?” Ben grabbed his shoulders.

  He shook his head. “Just…can you not go this time, and maybe just your friends go?”

  Ben hugged him, and for a second, he wanted to jump back in the car and go home and lock the doors. He wanted to spend whatever time they had left with the people he loved most in the world.

  Zach sniffed, wiped his nose again, and then reached out to grab Ben’s sleeve with his fingertips. Ben felt the agony of indecision; if he went home, they might have months, weeks, or only days together before things changed to become insane. But if he went and was successful, they may have the rest of their lives together.

  There was no choice. “I’ve got to, Zachy. But wherever I am, know that I’m thinking of you. And I’ll feel good knowing that you’re thinking about me.” He raised the boy’s chin to look into his eyes and leaned forward to whisper, “I’ll also feel good that you’re here to protect your mom. She gets a little scared by herself.” He leaned back. “Can you do that?”

  Zach gave him a tiny smile and nodded.

  “That’s my boy.” Ben hugged him again.

  Zach held his arm for a moment. “Can you bring me something back?”

  “Sure, like what?” Ben asked.

  He hiked bony shoulders. “I dunno; just something cool.”

  “You got it.” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “See you when I get back, big guy. Don’t forget; look after your mom for me while I’m away.”

  Zach nodded solemnly. “I will, I promise.”

  He stood and Emma put an arm around his neck. “You’re mad, and I love and hate you for it.” Her eyes were glistening as she spoke, but she tried to hold a watery smile. “Bring me something back as well.” She brought her face close to his. “You…just you.”

  Ben turned to kiss her. And then stared into her eyes. “Just promise me you and Zach will be here when I get back.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Amazon Jungle—61 hours until Primordia apparition

  Ben sat next to Drake and Helen in the cavernous rear of the strike bomber. The plane was an enormous piece of modern flying technology, but for all its size, the jets were whisper quiet and allowed all three of them to become lost in their own thoughts.

  Ben’s mind took him back to the airport, and he now thought of a hundred things he should have said to his family. He also tried hard to dampen down the niggling thought that it might have been the last time he’d ever see them. He felt a lump in his throat and swallowed hard to make it go away.

  He exhaled and looked across at Drake’s mercenaries. Most dozed with sprawled legs and mouths hung open. Chess’ snoring sounded like someone tearing up canvas sheets. But it didn’t seem to bother the brawny Shawna beside him who was also lights-out.

  The huge Francis had his hands clasped together and eyes closed, and Ben wondered whether this was how he relaxed or perhaps he was saying some silent prayers.

  Ben then glanced across to catch Balls, or Bianca, smiling at him. She winked and then continued to hold his gaze. For the last few days, she’d been extremely helpful, friendly, and way too flirty. Ben nodded back and knew that Emma would have vetoed her coming along if she had seen any of that.

  He let his eyes slide to the last of the group, Buster. Ever since they had departed, the guy had worried him. He’d seen good soldiers become strung out on adrenaline before. Most handled it well when they were young or trained to deal with the stress. But some entered a state of permanent agitation and became hyper-alert, hair triggered, and/or short-tempered. Buster’s eyes were open and constantly darting. Drake said the guy would do his job; he hoped so, as they’d have enough problems to deal with once they walked into their own private hell.

  A red light came on overhead, the lights dimmed, and blackout globes lit up. It meant it was time to move into their drop crate, a little bit of new technology they were using for landing that removed the necessity of a formal arrival or letting anyone know they were coming. And it didn’t even need a runway.

  Other than them, the drop crate was the only thing in the rear of the bomber, and they filed in and took their seats along either side. It was armored and looked like a cargo container except it was packed with modern technology. The drop crate would slide from the rear of the plane and then a rotating wing on each corner would deploy to lower them to the ground.

  There was minimal guidance, and it could only be moved by increasing or reducing power to one or more of the mini-chopper wings. Drop crates were primarily used for cargo drops when the materials needed to be kept intact. It had been used for personnel before but wasn’t recommended, and it also wasn’t really meant to fly, just supposed to find a suitable place to land without breaking the equipment, or bodies, inside.

  The other reason they now needed to use it was that Ben and Drake had discovered that for some reason the airport at Caracas didn’t exist anymore, and the capital city of Venezuela that they knew had a population of over 2 million was now little more than a ramshackle town. It seemed a recent re-evolution change had wiped most of it away.

  Also, the major river they once traversed, the Rio Caroni, a once mighty coffee-brown water laneway snaking through the Amazon jungle, was down to a trickle in this area. Whatever was happening to their world wasn’t just affecting the population and cities, but now also the geography.

  The other obstacles Ben found they needed to surmount were that there were now few modern settlements, no guides, and the Amazon jungle was deemed a largely unexplored no-go place. This last bit filled Ben, Drake, and Helen with trepidation—they always knew it was a place where dangers lurked everywhere, but it was eminently survivable if you had the right experience. But now, something else had obviously changed in there.

  Ready for drop, the pilot intoned from the overhead speaker.

  Ben sucked in a deep breath. I guess we’ll all find out soon enough, he thought as he tightened the straps across his upper body.

  From outside the fortified container came the faint whine of hydraulics and Ben expected it was the bomber’s rear cargo door yawning open. He suspected there would now be howling winds inside the rear cabin, but they were sheltered, locked inside their steel cocoon.

  Around them all crated up and tied down were their weapons, climbing gear, and supplies. Ben closed his eyes for a moment as he felt nervousness creep into his belly.

  On my mark, 3, 2, 1…mark. So long and good luck, people.

  “Here we go,” Drake said. He pulled an extendable arm around in front of him that was a little like an airline tray table and opened the small screen.

  There was a clunk, a drop of about an inch, and then the sound of rollers for a few seconds. Finally, there came a sensation of weightlessness. Their tiny steel world dipped, the overhead rotors whirred to life, and then the drop crate automatically righted itself in space.

  On Drake’s control console were four small toggles, which he worked, shifting power to one or
the other as he checked for a suitable landing space that was devoid of water, rocks, or trees.

  They’d hoped to set down about a day’s march from the plateau, as it was the most level ground for hundreds of miles, and then have 48 hours to be there when Primordia was directly overhead.

  “There,” Drake said.

  Ben leaned across and saw where his friend was pointing—there was a small clearing, just 50 square feet, that would fit them in with little room to spare. There were tall trees surrounding it, but as there were no huge canopies to contend with, the rotors only extended a few feet out from all four corners.

  “Get ready, people, coming in on, 10, 9, 8…” Drake’s hands were a blur as he shifted power around the rotors to guide the crate in. “3, 2, 1…”

  Then the lights went out.

  “Oh no,” Helen whispered in the darkness as Ben felt that weird butterfly fluttering sensation that started in his stomach and then tingled all the way from his scalp to his toes.

  The light came back on and Ben noticed they had only been around a dozen feet up when the lights were out, and when they came back on, they were still a dozen feet up, even after the lapsing of what he thought had been a few seconds. It was as if time stood still in those void-like moments.

  The container gently settled and Ben looked one way then the other. “Everything okay?”

  Drake and Helen’s faces were pale and cautious, but the mercs just looked bored.

  “Sure, why wouldn’t it be?” Chess asked.

  “Hey, where’s Bianca, uh, Balls?” Ben asked, frowning. He quickly looked to the door, but he already knew it was still sealed tight.

  “Who?” Chess asked.

  “Damnit, Bianca Alejandra, and whatever the rest of her name was. You guys called her Balls?” Ben said and pointed to the vacant space beside Francis. “She was just there.”

  “Balls?” Francis looked down to the empty space next to him, and then slowly shook his head. His voice was basement deep. “Ain’t no one there now, and ain’t no one been there. Don’t be losin’ it now, brother.”