by Greig Beck
Gil blinked as the lights went out and he looked over his shoulder but there was nothing at all around him as if he had been dropped into the depths of space. Just as he turned his face to the sky, everything came back to normal.
“Well.” He snorted softly. “Don’t tell my doctor.”
He reeled his line in, walked further out toward the deep channel, and recast. He had a good-sized bit of fish bait on a razor hook, and he kept his fingers lightly on the line, sensitive to every tap, bump, and tiniest of vibrations—after many years of fishing, by feel alone, Gil could tell the difference between the sea bottom, weed, and a fish nibble—and most times, he could even tell what sort of fish was doing the nibbling.
The line suddenly got heavy. “Whoa there.”
Gil reeled in, but the line stopped dead. “What the hell?” He clicked his tongue in his cheek at the thought of maybe getting himself hooked up on a snag—sunken log probably. There’d been some rain a few weeks back, and maybe something washed down the river and was stuck on the bottom.
He tugged again and took a few steps closer to the channel drop off. He continued to reel, and thankfully, the line started to slowly come up. But there was still weight on it. He knew what a shark or big ray felt like, and it was similar to this—dead weight.
But at least it was still coming, so that was a good thing. He reeled in more line and tried to calculate how much he'd reeled back in verse how much line was still down in the depths. As Gil reeled in, he stared into the water, looking for ‘color’ as they called it, the first glimpse of a catch, to get an idea of what exactly he had on his line.
He squinted. Gradually, something was taking shape from the darker water. “Big ray, maybe.” He kept reeling, drawing it toward him. When it was about a dozen feet out and coming up the side of the channel into shallow water, he suddenly realized, and then remembered with a dawning horror, what it could be.
“Shit.” He dropped his expensive Shimano rod and turned to run.
The pool-table-sized creature came up from the depths and into the shallows. It was sandy pale, and two fist-sized bulb-eyes popped up from the water to regard the fleeing man.
The emperor crab was one of the biggest crab species to have ever existed, and it had been known to attack dogs, livestock, and even people who were stupid enough to wander close to river mouths at dawn or dusk.
Gil splashed hard, throwing up waves, his bulky trout fishing pants catching some of the surge and beginning to fill with seawater. Unfortunately, he was 55, out of condition, and tiring fast.
The crab never slowed for a second, and as the water shallowed, it lifted up on pointed, stilt-like legs and accelerated. In the next instant, one of its four-foot-long claws reached out to take him by the neck. Gil screamed, but no one heard, and in another flash of returning memory, he knew why.
Don’t fish at dawn or dusk.
Why didn’t he remember that before and why didn’t he remember about the emperor crabs?
The crab was now holding its prize in close to itself, like a footballer holds the ball, and it immediately set about returning to the deep water.
Gil didn’t even bother fighting the grip, as it would have been like trying to combat an industrial press. As the crab went over the lip of the sandbank and back into the channel, Gil had one final wish: I hope I drown first.
CHAPTER 30
The water splashing his face brought him to abrupt wakefulness.
“Gluck, gluck: Andy, wake up, wake up!”
“Huh.” Andy blinked a pleasant dream away where he was in warm, dry clothing, and sitting down to dinner as a Thanksgiving turkey the size of a small car was placed on the table.
It vanished, and he wasn’t dry, or in nice clothes, but instead was starving, near naked, and cold.
“What?”
“Bad things, bad things coming.” He felt the sharp talons of his little friend on his thigh.
“Uh, was dreaming.” Depressingly, he was back on his floating log. He put a reassuring hand down on Gluck’s shivering back. “It’s okay, buddy, just dozed off for a minute, or…”
But as Andy sat up, he knew why the small creature was agitated. The wind was up and dark clouds raced across the sky. Added to that, the temperature had dropped 10 degrees. Waves now lapped the side of his log, and from time to time, the huge tree lurched in the water.
There was no doubt that a storm was bearing down on them—that was the bad news. The good news was the wind came from the west and it was blowing him toward the shoreline.
“Jesus, how long was I asleep?”
Andy looked up at the clouds billowing up from that direction. They were dark, ominous, and held flecks of lightning within them. He then turned to the distant shoreline. Would he be beached, or swamped by the storm before then?
Who will win? he wondered aloud.
Another wave and more spray whipped across them. Gluck raised its bony wings, one opening wide and the other deformed one, just only lifting from its body. It held its balance, but it skidded.
“Whoops. Hang in there, little buddy.” He reached down and scooped him up. “Better you go back in here where I can keep an eye on you.”
Andy popped him in the near empty bag. There was no food or water left now. So something had to change one way or the other.
The tree lurched as a larger wave rocked it. Andy knew that when the storm was fully upon them, he could expect them to be rolled over and he’d be going in.
Slowly but surely, the tree was being washed and wind-pushed toward the shoreline, and Andy squinted into the salt spray. He was way too far out to leave his tree now, but on the coastline, he began to make out landmarks—in the distance was what could have been a single tall tree at the waterline, and all of its branches looked to have been wind-blasted off from one side.
“You’re kidding me; that’s where our boat is.” He grinned. “We made it.”
Andy looked about and then toward the shore—he was still about 300 feet from the land.
“Damn, might as well be on another planet,” he cursed and wished he had something to throw. He also wished he could look below the water and see if his deadly shadow was still there.
The weather was growing darker, but between him and the shore, a few of the medium-sized pterosaurs still dive-bombed the water’s surface and snatched up 20-pound silver torpedoes in their beak. It made his empty stomach rumble.
In another 10 minutes, he guessed they’d pass through the school of fish. Maybe the baitfish might leave some debris on the surface—a fresh fish scrap was better than nothing.
He waited and shivered slightly. With little clothing and no shelter, it wouldn’t take long for him to suffer from exposure. Finding shelter had always been his number one priority, and now he was caught out in the open.
As they approached the school of fish that had now moved closer to be only about a few dozen feet to his side, he saw he was still about 200 feet from the shore. But waves now rocked the trunk so much; it bobbed and some even crashed over its surface. However, he was still moving, and for the first time, he felt a glimmer of hope that his tree might wash up before it was tipped by the storm.
And then he felt the first sensation of grinding.
Andy frowned, not understanding what was happening until he caught a glimpse of weed about 20 to 30 feet down.
“Ah, shit no; the bottom.”
The grinding continued and then the tree slowed and stopped, its lower branches catching fast on the sea bottom. He looked up—still about 150 feet of open water.
“Well, I’m screwed.”
Silver torpedoes shot past his perch on the trunk, and only about 30 feet away, a pterosaur dived to snatch one of the fish from the surface. Up close, he could see these pterosaurs were a fair size and probably stood about four feet in height.
Another came in, grabbed a huge fish, and went to wheel away. However, this time, it never made it. From below the surface, a massive grey beast shot upward, its th
ree-foot-wide head catching the body of the flying reptile and with the sound of crunching bones, dragged it back below the surface.
That could have been me, he thought.
Andy’s dark shadow was there; it had always been there, waiting for him, or for anything else.
But for now, it was busy.
To the beach or die trying, he thought madly and dived in.
The water was still bath-warm, but he felt the chill of death all around him. Andy was no great swimmer, but he powered on, one arm over the other. He kept his eyes tightly shut. He didn’t want to see any visions of hell rising up to snatch him from the surface and crunch his bones like sticks, like what happened to the flying reptile.
A wave washed over him, causing him to scream and gulp seawater. He spluttered, and then there came a surge of water from underneath him. He shut his eyes tighter, his lungs burning and his testicles shriveling from fear, but he kept thrashing onward.
I’ve done this before, I can do it again, I can do it again, I can do it again. He tried to think of nothing else but this mantra.
The bag at his side was wallowing open like a parachute as he’d forgotten to tie it closed this time, and it was slowing him down. But he fought on.
Then something touched his hand. He screamed bubbles and yanked it away and stopped to lift his head, but when he changed angles, his feet touched the bottom.
Andy didn’t stop for a second and started to run faster as the water became shallower. His feet sunk in the silt, but he powered on with the last remaining atoms of energy and adrenaline he had left in his body.
When he thought he was far enough up the beach, he spun back—save for his massive tree stuck further out, there was nothing.
He cupped his hands to his mouth. “You lose, asshole.” He laughed a little madly. “Brains over brawn.”
But then he suddenly remembered that if he found his little boat he had hidden, he’d need to sail right back out of this very estuary mouth.
“Hey, sorry about that asshole bit, okay?” He grinned as he sunk down to sit. “Let’s just call it even and we all go home happy.”
He sucked in deep breaths, feeling like he was 100 years old. Over his shoulder, his bag still leaked water.
He panicked. “Oh no. Oh, please no.” He snatched it up and ripped it open.
“Gluck.” The tiny reptile shook off some water and stared up at him.
Andy started to cry.
CHAPTER 31
“Evolution took them back.”
Emma paced, waiting on the call from Ben. She knew from his timetable that they should have arrived down in the Amazon by now. This was their last chance to speak together as Ben would soon be entering the blackout zone, and then it was up to their skill, experience, Andy, and a truckload of good luck.
She tried not to think about what would happen if Ben didn’t return from the Amazon. She stood at the window looking out over their estate, still not believing what she was seeing. She knew for sure now the walls were closing in on them.
A while ago, there had been another blackout, this one longer, and then when it was over, everything had changed. Since the first time that they’d noticed time-alterations, she had been doing some hurried research on theoretical changes that could come about due to variations in an evolutionary timeline.
Many of the theorists subscribed to the idea of flora and fauna changes, but also significant environmental changes that could alter entire landscapes. And the experts had history on their side as proof of their theories.
Right here in America, about 15,000 years ago when the mega fauna started to die out, it resulted in significant terrain changes. The massive creatures such as mammoths, mastodons, camels, horses, ground sloths, and giant beavers terraformed their environments. When their populations crashed, a landscape that was once like Africa’s Serengeti plains, with countless herds of great beasts, were suddenly changed forever.
Species of broadleaved trees that had been kept in check by huge numbers of big herbivores suddenly began to grow unchecked and quickly dominated the landscape. Soon after, the accumulation of dropped branches, drying leaf mass, and general plant debris saw a dramatic increase in the number of wildfires, which also recast the landscapes, and the species, plants and animals, living on it.
With some plains turning to forests, erosion was slowed, topsoil retained, river courses altered, and with it the entire land reshaped.
Emma felt a tear run down her cheek as she looked out over the countryside that was once lush American forests of Alder, Blue Ash, and Quaking Aspen. Now there were endless miles of dry plains of brown grass and here and there a few lumps of hills with the occasional scrubby-looking tree.
Dust clouds rose from the hooves of the herds. Creatures that could have been deer but had a single horn in the center of their foreheads and also a rough of fur at their throats like that on a lion.
“Zach,” she called.
“Yeah?”
She half turned. “Can you come down here, please?”
There was a groan from upstairs and then came the rumble of feet on steps. Zach appeared beside her at the window and jammed his hands in his jeans pockets. He looked out for a moment and then up at her. “What’s up?”
Emma pointed. “Those animals, what are they?”
Zach frowned up at her as though she was a simpleton. After a moment, he rolled his eyes. “Unicorns, of course.”
“Unicorns?” She looked down at him, as if searching for the joke.
“Yeah, why?” He waited for another few seconds. “Anything else?”
She snorted softly as she looked out over the herds of beasts that numbered in the thousands. The landscape was flatter, beaten down, as the exposed ground was nibbled down and churned up from countless hooves to then be blown away in the next dust storm.
“Unicorns; guess they made it on the Ark after all in this version of the world.” She sighed.
Zach shrugged and zoomed back up the steps.
Her phone rang and she snatched it up, saw the caller ID, and quickly jammed it to her ear.
“I miss you already.”
The line was weak, but just the sound of Ben’s voice calmed her. “And I you.” She smiled as she spoke. “I wish I was there.”
There was a pause for a few seconds. “No, I’m glad you’re not,” he replied softly, and then: “How’s Zach?”
“He’s fine, bored, and thinking I’m losing my mind.” And I probably am, she thought.
“And how are you?” There was a grin in his voice, and she bet he could read her mind.
“Good,” she lied. “But…”
“Yes?” He waited.
“Everything is different. The animals, the people, and now even the land is changing.” She looked out the window. “We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.” She smiled weakly.
“I know, but we’re nearly to the plateau. Stay in the house, and keep an eye on Zach. I want you both safe and sound and waiting for me when I get home.” Ben sighed long and slow. “Hey, want to know something weird: we lost one of our people.”
“Oh no, how?” she asked. “Was it bad?”
“No, I mean, we lost-lost one of our people—one minute they were there, and the next—poof—just, gone.”
“I don’t understand. You’re not even at the plateau yet.” She felt her stomach flip.
“No, no, they, she, just vanished. Only Drake, Helen, and I noticed. Weird thing was, the other guys said she never existed in the first place.” He chuckled but there was nervousness in it. “Helen said it was like evolution just took them back.”
“Evolution took them back.” She felt a little dizzy. “It’s finally reached us, us humans, I mean, hasn’t it? And it seems to be speeding up,” Emma said. “I’m scared. I want to scream, fight back, but against who or what?”
“We’ll fix it,” Ben said confidently.
“But what if the changes that Andy made were already done and bringing him back won’t make
any difference at all? We might not be here when you get back.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t even think like that,” Ben insisted.
“The world could be destroyed,” she said. “And only we’ll know it.”
“No, it won’t be destroyed,” he said softly. “But maybe a new version of the world might be made.” He sounded like he shifted, and the connection began to crackle. “I’ve got to go, but stay positive, please. We can’t undo what’s already been done. But we can certainly stop anything else happening. That’s all we got right now.”
“I know,” she said and looked out again at the dry plains of their estate. “Ben…” she began.
“Yeah, Emm, I’m here,” he said softly.
“Be careful down there. That jungle you knew before is now probably very different to the one you’re entering. Who knows what lives in there now.”
“I know, and I will, I promise. Stay positive; I’ll be back in a week…all of us will.”
He already sounded far away as he signed off.
CHAPTER 32
Venezuela, the Amazon Jungle
Nicolás Manduro paused as the light flicked on and off, like something had been thrown over the sun for a second or two. It passed as quickly as it came and he adjusted his backpack, grabbing a tree trunk to momentarily steady himself.
He had trekked now for many days, and although he had ventured into the jungle before, he had never ever been into the dark region he was now at.
Being a native Venezuelan, his father and grandfather had taught him to hunt, fish, and survive off the land, and it served him well now, mainly by being able to reduce the amount of supplies he needed to bring. Still, his pack sagged with the weight of the meteorological equipment he had brought with him.
He was determined to be at the plateau when the strange weather effects took place. He wanted to see for himself what the meteorological department’s electronics’ eyes and ears could not. He desperately wanted to know what actually caused their ‘eyes in the sky’ to become whited-out when trying to see down into that hidden tepui. And what the strange images were that looked like giant bat-like birds in the clouds he had seen exactly 10 years ago.