by Greig Beck
There were flowers, enormous fruits or seed pods, some with dangerous-looking spines, and also fungi as toadstools or in ragged shapes like torn bread.
“It’s like the Garden of Eden,” Shawna whispered.
“Yeah.” Chess snorted. “Complete with the devil snake, according to these jokers.”
“I can smell it,” Buster said. “Stinks like shit out there.”
“Because that’s probably what it is,” Helen replied. “Dinosaur shit.”
“Look.” Chess pointed with one fingerless gloved hand.
Something the size of a brush turkey sped past the cave mouth, paused to stand so still that it looked like it had become frozen as it seemed to be listening for a moment, before it unlocked and then sprinted on.
“Did you see that?” Chess continued to point. “That was a…”
“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Drake said and turned to Ben. “What do you want to do, boss?”
Ben slid forward so his elbows were on the lip of the cave mouth. He stuck his head out and looked left, right, then craned his neck to look above them.
They were about six feet up from the ground, and vines were hanging across their cave mouth, partially obscuring them. Helen was right, they should do a lot more watching and waiting, but they were on the clock. There didn’t seem to be anything close by, so he guessed it was as good as they were going to get.
“We mark our position, and then we head out. Follow me, stay quiet, low, and in tight.”
Ben eased out and dropped to the ground. He held a hand up and just crouched for a moment. He turned his head slowly, and then looked up above them. There was a rocky hill behind them, mostly covered in plants, and even from where he was only a few feet in front, it was hard to make out the hole he had just climbed out of.
He waved them out, and one after the other, the men and women jumped lightly to the ground. The mercs and Drake had their guns up and all pointed out at the jungle.
Helen also leapt down followed by Nicolás. The young man just gawped as he turned slowly.
“This is not real,” he breathed and fumbled for a camera, but cursed when he saw it was dead. He turned to Helen. “How can this be real?”
“We told you. You just didn’t want to believe us,” she said. “This world is our world. But it’s from about 100 million years ago. Somehow, the comet that is passing overhead distorts time, opens a portal to long ago, and right here, on this tabletop mountain, we get a little slice of the Late Cretaceous period.”
Nicolás continued to stare. “This is where those giant bat-birds came from.”
“Yes; pterosaurs,” Helen said softly.
“Hey.” Drake nudged Nicolás back to attentiveness. “And I’m betting there’s something else you didn’t believe us about this place…it’s the most damned dangerous one on Earth.”
Nicolás nodded, his eyes blinking. He turned back to the jungle as Shawna looked over her shoulder.
“Buster was right: it stinks.”
Helen pulled out a small scope and held it to her eye, shifting it to thermal, and turning slowly. “Rotting vegetation, sap and plant resin, early flowers, and one extra thing—lots and lots of dino-poop.”
“Big shits mean big assholes,” Chess said. “Stay in tight, people.” Keeping his eyes on the wall of jungle, he moved in closer to Ben. “Which way, Cartwright?”
Ben turned to the female paleontologist. “Helen?”
The woman looked up, sighting the sun for a moment. “Even as a kid, he wanted to see what America was like in the past.” She held out an arm. “So I’m betting he went up north, and if he came back, it would have been coming from that way.”
“Then let’s meet him halfway,” Ben said. “Francis, take us out.”
The big man grunted, kept his gun tucked under his arm, and went to move off into the jungle.
“Wait,” Helen hissed.
Francis turned.
“Some of the creatures here, the snakes, Titanoboa, also use the trees. Make sure you stay aware of what’s above you.”
“Those tinyboas; that’s them big snakes you mentioned?” Francis’ voice was deep but untroubled.
“Titanoboa, but yeah.” She nodded. “Be careful.”
“And the dinosaurs.” Shawna grinned. “They can fly as well.”
“Francis, also big damn spiders, just like you hate, right, Drake?” Chess chuckled.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Drake sighed.
“Oh man, this is getting better by the minute.” Francis shook his head. “Hope I live to get that big paycheck.”
He turned back, scanned the tree canopy for a moment, and then led them in.
CHAPTER 41
Humboldt County, Nevada, present time
Re-Evolution: 409
Barry Ryebeck pushed the mower around his large grass backyard for 20 minutes before stopping, grabbing the brow of his cap, and lifting it to wipe his streaming brow with a forearm. It was hot, damned hot, and the Nevada summer was going to be a bitch as always.
His home in Humboldt County was a good 3,000 square feet with a few orange trees, camellias for color, and plenty of flat ground for his magnificent emerald-green grass. It was Kentucky Bluegrass Supreme, and was soft, thick, and a pleasure to walk on in bare feet. Everyone commented on it. It made him feel as proud as a rooster.
He took a moment to inhale the sweet smell of fresh cut grass, and then jammed his cap back on and was about to check his progress when the lights went out.
“Huh?”
As soon as he noticed it, it was all over and the sun shone hotly once again on his upturned face. He blinked, turning one way then the other.
Musta been my imagination, he thought and straightened his cap and looked back to his work. He was pretty much done, with just some tidy up to go around the trees, and along the hedge line—he’d tackle that one first.
Barry pushed the mower along the hedge line, coming to a hole in the hedge at ground level that was roughly the size of a hubcap. He pushed the mower on past, and then just as he was beyond it, something that felt like molten daggers stabbed his calf.
Barry screamed and went to the ground while the damn mower continued on without him. He turned over, gripping his leg, and just caught sight of two black stick-like things repositioning themselves just at the hole opening in the hedge.
As he grimaced, confused, he felt the spreading coldness work its way up his leg to his groin. And then begin to rise higher.
“Help me!” he shouted but his words were weak as already his chest was succumbing to the spreading numbness.
Then he remembered. “Ah damnit.” It was Meso season. He should have known better—those big bastards, the Mesothelae, were the world’s largest and heaviest spiders. They lived in burrows, and a big one could get to be two feet across and weigh 40 pounds.
Barry began to take short breaths, as it was getting hard to breathe. He turned his stiffening neck and saw it then, the Meso, as it eased further out of the hole in the hedge. Just as he thought, it was a big sucker, and had been in its burrow, lined with silk, just waiting for an ambush.
The spider came out slowly and in the sunlight, its skin looked like polished plastic. The eyes, two big central ones and many smaller ones surrounding them, were glossy black buttons devoid of soul, but Barry knew every damn one of them was focused right on him.
Below those eyes was where the shit got crazy—the two chelicerae, the things that housed the fangs, were an angry red, and those twin curved daggers were as long as his big fingers.
“Shit, shith, thithhh,” Barry whispered as the numbness spread to his face. He lay back then on his magnificent grass, and it felt like a soft, sweet-smelling pillow. “I gith thup.”
Barry didn’t feel the spider’s first touch, as he was totally numb now. And thankfully, he didn’t feel when it began to drain him of his body fluids. He just felt dumb for not remembering sooner.
CHAPTER 42
The Plateau—100 million
years ago
Drake tried to look everywhere at once. Ten years ago, he escaped this hellish place with his life and little else. He promised then to never return—he groaned for a moment—but now, here he was.
Out front, Ben had taken over the lead, and next was Helen. He never stopped thinking about her, and when things went well for him or he ran into trouble, it was always her he wanted to talk to. Guess I’m still hooked, and her coming was probably why he was really here. I’m dumb like that, he thought and snorted softly.
Ben paused to look again up at the jungle canopy. Sunlight filtered down, but it was shredded into thin bars by the thick leaf cover. At their feet, mud pulled at their boots, and roots thick as Drake’s thighs lifted from the slime to plunge back down like the muscular tentacles of a massive mud-slick octopus.
Drake turned slowly. The jungle in this place was like being on another planet. He was no botanist, so nearly everything was unidentifiable. But here, nothing was even recognizable—large fronds like green dining tables hung over scrambling plants that shot out curling hair-like strings to cling to the stalks of hardier plants to lift themselves higher. Large flowering growths that smelled like old gym socks bloomed open, and fungus of all shapes, sizes, and colors fed on rotting logs, each other, and in one case, the skeleton of some gargantuan fallen beast.
“What’s the hold-up?” Chess asked from the rear.
“Stinks like shit in here,” Shawna repeated for the 10th time as her mouth turned down. “And worse than that dino-poop.”
“It’s the swamp methane,” Chess replied. “I thought you liked that stuff. That biker boyfriend of yours reeks of it.”
She returned a short hoarse laugh. “I dumped that ass-wipe long back. Got my eye on something younger and prettier now.” She turned and winked at Nicolás who blushed and looked away quickly.
Ben turned with his teeth bared and waved them to quietness. Shawna continued to guffaw, and Drake knew it’d be impossible to close them down completely. And it would stay like that until they saw something that freaked them out, or one of them got dead—education the hard way, he thought grimly.
“Hey.” Francis walked a few paces across a small, shallow pond. “Looky here.”
“Whatta you got, big guy?” Chess tried to see around him but Francis’ shoulders were like a wall of muscle.
“Got the biggest, ugliest frog I ever seen.” He half turned and chuckled. “It’s all head.”
“Lemme see! I love frogs.” Buster began to slosh toward him.
“Slow down,” Helen said, also moving toward Francis.
“Ah, goddamnit.” Ben looked to Drake, and then nodded to the mercs.
Drake knew what he meant—they were his buddies, so do something about them. He followed.
Francis pulled a long blade from a scabbard on his belt and crouched. “This thing is massive.” He began to hold it out.
As Drake approached, he could make out what was capturing Francis’ attention. There was some sort of frog or toad that looked like an upturned brown and green bucket. On each side of its head over its eyes were horn-like protrusions, and a pair of large glassy eyes was fixed on Francis…and the guy was right, it seemed to be all freaking head.
“Is it alive?” Shawna asked.
“Let’s see.” Francis reached forward with the blade.
Helen moved quickly. “Don’t…”
She went to grab at Francis’ shoulder. But just as she lunged, the toad opened its mouth and sprayed Francis’ hand and arm with something that immediately pitted his clothing and the acrid smell of it stung the eyes.
Francis dropped his knife and recoiled. “What the hell?”
“Fuck you.” Buster kicked out, landing a boot into the center of the amphibian that sent it flying into the bushes with a soft thud.
“It’s burning.” Francis’ normal baritone had gone up a few octaves.
“Put it in the water, quickly,” Helen said.
The man did as he was told and grimaced. He lifted it, and Helen came in closer. Her hands hovered just over his arm. The glove he wore and his tough jungle-proof sleeve was all abraded, and the dark flesh on his arm underneath was red raw.
“Interesting,” Helen said as she craned forward.
“You think?” Francis shot back. “That damn thing just spat acid at me.”
“That looked like a Beelzebufo ampinga… otherwise known as the devil frog. And it’s interesting because their fossils have only ever been found in Madagascar from the Cretaceous Period. But we always thought they might have existed here.” She looked up. “And now I know they do.”
“So damn happy for you,” Francis grimaced.
She opened her canteen and let more fresh water run over his wounds. “You’ll need to dress that.”
Francis nodded. “It still burns.”
Helen looked to where the giant frog had been. “Yeah, hydrochloric acid—because it has such a large mouth, it eats big prey whole. I guess it needs a strong acid in its gut to break them down quickly. Never knew they could spit it.”
“Lemme guess, and now you know that too.” Francis’ brow furrowed.
She smiled up at him and nodded. “Their closest living relative lives right here in South America. This is proof that these things crossed over land bridges.”
“Fuck it.” Francis half turned to look over his shoulder. “Buster, shoot that damn thing.”
“It’s already gone, buddy.” He lifted his gun. “But I’ll shoot the next one.”
“Is it bleeding?” Ben asked from their rear.
“Not now,” Helen said.
“Does it smell like raw flesh?” Ben pressed.
Helen sniffed, and then Francis. Francis shook his head, but Helen just looked at him.
Ben grunted. “Like the lady said, bathe it, and then bind it, thickly. Many of the things in here hunt by scent.” He turned to look at the man. “And you just made yourself very interesting to them.”
Francis stood. “Hey, listen, man…”
“Shut up.” Ben shot back and looked along each of their faces. “You touch nothing in here. This is no jungle you’ve ever been in. You wise up right now, ‘cause I don’t give a shit if you get yourself killed. But if you put me and mine at risk, I’ll kill you all myself.” He glared. “Clear?”
Chess held up his hand. “Be cool, asshole, we get it.”
Drake doubted it.
*****
Ben worried about Emma and Zach with every step he took. The world was changing, animals were changing, and people were changing and even disappearing. New animals were emerging like some sort of conjuring trick, and everyone just seemed to remember them as though they’d always been there and suddenly recalled the oddities.
The landscape was altering, and he wondered what would happen if they failed to find Andy. What would they be heading back to? It was telling that when they’d last flown into Caracas 10 years ago, the city had a population of two million people. Now it was little more than a town with no airport, no buildings over two stories, and a few thousand people living behind a high wall.
Ben didn’t know whether the jungle consumed them, or if the town just never got a chance to exist as they knew it.
Please don’t let that happen to Ohio, he silently prayed. Or anywhere back home.
His thoughts stayed with home. Emma was the smartest and toughest woman he had ever known, and he had confidence she could deal with anything. But knowing that just didn’t make him feel any better about being here while she was back there.
His lips flattened as he thought about it—back there? Did he mean back there in America? Or back there, 100 million years in the future. It didn’t matter; it was just a long, long way away.
They’d been trekking for three hours now, and he’d stop soon for a break. He’d already laid down the rules: you have something to eat, you bury the wrappers. You take a piss or shit, you dig a hole first, and cover it over—the deeper the better—and you better be damn
ed quick. The smell of fresh feces was something he had learned the hard way that brought the predators running.
If anyone ever wondered why dogs look at you real strange when they’re taking a dump, it’s because they know for that few seconds they’re hunched over, they’re vulnerable. And they’re looking to you, their pack leader, to check you have their back.
As Ben marched, he tried to recall any landmarks from his previous time here, but couldn’t. Though he knew the lake and caves were at the interior, the fact was he left this plateau as soon as he was stranded in this time. It was the only place he found that the Titanoboa lived.
He looked up—the sun was just past its zenith. The snakes were more active at night, and they still had a few more daylight hours yet.
His one hope was that they saw the creatures before the creatures saw them—it at least would give them a fighting chance. That was the reason the mercs were with them—more sets of eyes to watch out and bodies trained to react quickly. He looked over his shoulder at the group coming up behind him. Drake nodded to him, and he returned the gesture. Thank God for having a few people here he could trust with his life.
Ben’s objectives were simple: first prize, they found Andy and everyone went home. He doubted they’d win that medal, but there were levels of achievement underneath that. So, second prize was Andy must be brought back or stopped. With rifle or sidearm, Ben was a crack shot, and Drake was even better; one way or the other, Andy must not be allowed to have any more effect on this time zone.
Ben led them through the damp and claustrophobic jungle. The mists that were still curling around the hairy tree trunks and through the broad palm fronds were now beginning to settle and drip like rain, soaking them all in a warm and oily moisture.
Ben was first to break out into the small and unusual clearing, and as the team filed out, Helen came and grabbed at his elbow.
“This isn’t natural,” she whispered.
Ben nodded slowly. “You’re right; been scratched out of the jungle.” He half turned. “Eyes out, everyone.”
The clearing was roughly 50 feet across, and around its edge, plant debris was piled there that had long rotted down. Something had scraped everything away from the center. There were mounds every few feet that were about a foot high and a yard around.