Prehistoric Survival | Book 1 | Doomed City

by Sander, K. G.

  “Love you, mom!” Kennedy yelled as the door shut behind her.

  Maggie stared.

  Her inadequacy as a mother reared its ugly head. Her seventeen-year-old son was taking his little sister to school and reminding Maggie of meetings.

  Wasn’t that Maggie’s job?

  With a sigh, she dumped her untouched coffee down the sink and put her pancakes in the fridge.

  Time to go change the world.

  Hell, Maggie couldn’t even run a house.

  Chapter Two

  Maggie

  It didn’t take long for Maggie to curse herself and swing by the Tim Horton’s. She hadn’t touched her coffee this morning, and the grit behind her eyes was getting worse.

  “Large dark roast, two sweetener,” Maggie said absent-mindedly to the speaker at the drive-through. Her phone rang, and she didn’t wait for an answer from the employee before she rolled up her window and pressed “Answer” on the interactive display of her Ford Escape.

  “Lindsay,” Maggie said, barely stopping shy of the vehicle in front of her with a lurch, “What’s the news?”

  “Ready to go,” her Doctorate student said sheepishly, “But Doctor York is here, and he wants to see you.”

  “Fuck,” Maggie breathed, blushing when she realized she’d swore in front of a student. “Okay. I’m on my way,” she continued quickly, hoping that Lindsay didn’t notice. “Did he say what he wanted to talk about?”

  “No. He wouldn’t talk to me. He’s waiting in your office.”

  “Alright. Thanks for the heads up.”

  The smiling Tim Horton’s employee was waiting impatiently for her to open her window, take her coffee and pay. The line was growing behind her, with harried people trying to get to work on time, and Maggie knew she was being rude. But really, they can wait five fucking seconds.

  “I gotta go,” she snapped to the phone, too harshly than her student deserved. Lindsay had been one hell of a Doctorate student, joining her two years ago. Really, she was irreplaceable on this project.

  Hitting the END button on her dash as she rolled down the window, guilt rose. Couldn’t she get anything right? She couldn’t even order a coffee without being rude to fifty people. Flashing a small smile, she took her coffee from the employee. Holding out her credit card in exchange.

  “Tap?”

  “Yeah, go ahead.”

  The employee quickly tapped the card on the machine and returned it. Maggie grabbed it and hit the gas. Much to the appreciation of the people in the line behind her.

  Guilt rose as she thought about how she’d just talked to her doctorate student. Lindsay was probably the best student she’d ever had. Hell, the kid single handedly discovered an algorithm to fix the instability complex of the receiving Carbon 16 molecule. Maggie would have never thought of using the instability to their advantage and by predicting where the electron cloud would be, by predicting where it wouldn’t be. Genius. And there was no way Maggie would have thought of that.

  Lindsay was the one who was changing the world. Maggie was just holding on to her coattails.

  “That’s not true,” Maggie muttered to herself, angrily careening through traffic. “You’re valuable to this project. You’re the leader. You know you need to be there.”

  Her therapist’s mantra was hollow. Maggie didn’t really believe it anyway. Careening through traffic, the clock on the dash counted down to the end of her world. The time where everyone would realize she was a fraud.

  Maggie pulled into the staff parking lot and slammed to a stop; inches shy of a concrete block at the front of the parking stall. Sighing, she gathered her briefcase, phone, purse, and still hot coffee precariously in her arms and opened the door of her Escape.

  “Shit,” she mumbled as her phone slipped from her hand. A desperate grab later, Maggie beamed as she caught the phone. She pivoted, distracted.

  WHAM.

  The body thudded into her chest, sending Maggie sprawling to the asphalt. Her briefcase, phone and purse flew from her hands as her entirely still too warm coffee splattered against her chest.

  “Sssss…” Maggie gasped as the coffee soaked through her blouse and into her skin. It wasn’t hot enough to burn, but it was sure close.

  “Oh my,” a girlish voice chirped from above her. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you!”

  A hand reached down, and Maggie took it, allowing the student to help her up. The girl looked under twenty, was a beautiful blonde with bright blue eyes, and had obviously been interrupted during a run.

  “That’s okay,” Maggie said, wincing more at the ruined outfit than any actual physical pain.

  “Are you okay?” The girl asked, puffing a little. “I’m so sorry. Please, can I help in any way?”

  With the shock of being knocked on her ass by a one-hundred pound freshman wearing off, anger crept along the edges of Maggie’s calm demeanor. The freshman noticed, and stepped back quickly, arms held out.

  “I’ll pay for dry-cleaning,” she blurted, bending over to pick up Maggie’s dropped phone and purse. “I can just…”

  “It’s fine,” Maggie said through gritted teeth, trying desperately to force a smile. The freshman handed over her things. “It’s fine.”

  “Oh, your tights...”

  Maggie looked down again and sighed. Her tights were ruined, with gashes across both knees, blood seeping from her scrapes. That’s how she didn’t want to appear to anyone… Walking into a male-dominated position with scraped knees and ruined tights.

  “I have an extra outfit in the lockers,” Maggie said, suppressing the building anger.

  “Okay, are you sure you’re okay?” The Freshman looked around, desperate to leave the conversation.

  Why wouldn’t she be desperate? Maggie was pissed off and was not hiding it well. The poor girl didn’t try to ruin her best outfit. She was probably just trying to beat a personal record.

  The anger dissipated into guilt as fast as it had manifested.

  “I’m fine,” Maggie said, her smile more genuine. “Nothing a little Oxi-Clean can’t fix.”

  The freshman forced a chuckle, knowing as well as Maggie did that if the suit came clean with a small fortune paid to a dry cleaner, it would be a miracle.

  “Have a good run.”

  “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Maggie said, but the freshman was already backing away.

  “Okay. Have a good day,” she said, and all but sprinted away.

  “Oh, it’ll be just fucking great,” Maggie muttered under her breath.

  And, as if the universe wanted her to fail, her phone rang in her hand.

  Only one thing on her phone had that ringtone.

  “Fuck.”

  “Look, he left for school with his sister this morning,” Maggie barked into the phone, tucked precariously into the crook of her shoulder. She barely nodded to Lee, the young woman in charge of the desk at the pool on her way by. “I’m assuming he is there.”

  “He did not show up for attendance this morning,” the vice-principal chided in her ear. “Or for his morning math class.”

  “What are they learning in math?” Maggie asked as she strode to her locker.

  “That’s hardly relevant-”

  “It is to me,” Maggie snapped. “Mason already has a University level calculus course under his belt. That he took for fun. If he doesn’t want to show up for his math class, then he doesn’t have to.”

  “But-”

  “Listen here,” Maggie said as she slammed her stuff onto the locker bench. With the full fury of a mother who knew she was wrong, Maggie unleashed the stress of the morning onto the civil servant, “My son probably has a good reason for skipping. Test him. If he fails, then I want a call. Until he is behind in his schoolwork, I see no reason to waste his time in a class he need not go to. Just like I see no reason for you to waste my time with any more of these phone calls.”

  “As a fellow educator, I would have thought
his attendance was important to you.”

  “Success is important to me,” Maggie snapped, “If he can’t pass without being there, why would I care? Good day, sir.” And, without giving him time to respond, Maggie ended the call.

  Go to school.

  A quick text on her phone to her son.

  Maggie stripped and put on a black pantsuit that she had in her locker for emergencies. It was a little too big and hung off her shoulders a little, but it would be fine for the day.

  Her phone binged, heralding a message from her son.

  Roger that, boss. I’ll get there for English. Have reasons to be there ;)

  Maggie rolled her eyes.

  If you get a girl pregnant before you’re done High School, I’m not paying for University. Go. To. School.

  Love you too, mom. Kill it today :) :)

  A genuine smile reached her eyes.

  She didn’t know it would be her last.

  Chapter Three

  Mason

  “No. Still too visible. They’re going to stop me at the border if they see that. For sure.”

  Mason Porter leaned over his best friend, confidant and, most recently, business partner’s shoulder. The lights of the LED lit computer tower glowed a soft blue, and the monitor illuminated both the teenager’s faces as Ellis carefully replaced the pixels in the E of a fake passport.

  “There’s no way they would see that,” Ellis said skeptically, squinting his eyes at the glowing computer. “I can’t even see it and it’s magnified a thousand times.”

  They were exact opposites, in looks and disposition. Mason, tall and lanky, long hair he wore down, so it flowed while he rode his skateboard. His mom often asked him how he saw, but Mason could see the ladies watching him just fine. Ellis was built like a truck. Over six foot two, arms as big as Mason’s thighs, short clipped hair. Mason knew that Ellis was self-conscious of his size, especially since he didn’t play football, and never would. His dad was THE Samuel P. Didsbury, the starting running back of the New England Patriots during their first run at the ring in the early century. Retired, they’d moved back to Canada, and he’d blown all his money on failed restaurant attempts. Always investing in the wrong move. No one in Canada seemed to care about an ex-NFL player who had almost won a ring.

  “It’s there,” Mason said, “I can see it.”

  “I’m not sure if I can get this done for your run tonight,” Ellis breathed, clicking away at the computer, sharpening edges of letters and deleting pixels. “If you want it better than this. Plus, I’ll have to redo all the other ones on order.”

  “I have faith. Didn’t your dad call you in sick today?”

  Ellis smiled, young face wrinkling, eyes sharp. “You really do a badass grown man impression.”

  “Sure do.”

  Mason stood and stretched, letting Ellis click away at the computer. They were going to make a killing this run. Might be enough for their genuine business start-up of graphic design freelancers. Their parents didn’t understand their art. Mason perused their graphics lining the walls, some better than others.

  Ellis was a genius on the computer. Mason was a genius with backgrounds and colour concepts. Their parents wanted them to be doctors. At least Mason saw his parents, he thought as he leaned in closer to see one of their earlier works of a bright yellow Tyrannosaur wearing a sombrero in front of a sign reading “Will Work for Food.” Ellis was left alone most days a month. His dad at different conferences and get rich quick seminars, his mom a waitress working two jobs to pay for their debt. Mason had it easiest of the two. At least Mason only had to deal with an absent mother.

  Bing.

  “Speaking of,” Mason sighed, pulling out his phone at his mother’s text tone.

  “What?” Ellis grunted, still staring at the barely perceptible line of pixelated black font on his computer screen.

  “Nothing,” Mason said, “Just my mom texting.”

  Ellis grunted, showing he’d heard as he got to work.

  Go to school.

  “I’m gonna have to duck out,” Mason said, “The school called my mom.”

  Ellis grunted again as Mason texted his quick reply to his mom. Large teenager hunkered over his computer, shrinking into himself.

  “Have it ready by midnight. Julio deliver the other stuff I need?”

  Ellis turned in his chair, suddenly pale. “Yeah. Yeah, he did. Look, Mason, you don’t have to go through with this. Messing around with guys like Julio… People don’t come back from that.”

  “One and done,” Mason said, grabbing his skateboard from the side of the stairs. “We can have everything we want once I make this run.”

  “It’s not worth it…”

  Mason shot Ellis a look, and he closed his mouth, “It is to me.”

  Ellis nodded. “It’s already been delivered. Check the duffel.” Ellis nodded towards a dark cubby of the already dark basement.

  Mason headed over as his phone binged again.

  If you get a girl pregnant before you’re done High School I’m not paying for University. Go. To. School.

  Smiling at how out of touch his mother really was with his activities, Mason fired his response. Then he carefully lowered a black duffel bag from the cubby, with Ellis nervously tapping his legs behind him.

  Heart skipping a beat, Mason looked inside.

  A sawed-off double-barrel shotgun sat in the duffel's bottom, a dozen shells littering the bag.

  This was real. It was going to happen.

  Tonight.

  “You can still back out…”

  “No,” Mason said, sweating hands reaching to grip the cool metal. “There’s no going back.”

  Chapter Four

  Maggie

  Maggie pulled at the hem of her slightly too large suit coat, wishing she had the one that had cost her an arm and a leg. Today was the day to look good, not like she was swimming in a hand-me-down.

  The elevator dinged, pulling her attention from her too-skinny reflection of the metal doors. She’d lost a lot of weight with the stress of this project.

  For no good reason, her doubt reared its ugly head: it’s going to fail, and you’ll be out of a job. Then what?

  Shaking her head, she stepped out of the elevator into the long corridor of cramped professor and TA offices. Hers was at the end, with Lindsay in a small desk outside. She’d been given the budget for two more TA’s, but none of the applicants had impressed her enough to hire them. The only person in the entire department of physics who’d shown any talent was Lindsay. And she was, hopefully, chatting with Doctor York in her office to distract him from her tardiness.

  The hall was empty, as were most of the offices. Not unusual for nine-thirty on a Friday. Most were teaching classes or took Friday’s off.

  The stillness of the corridor made the small gasped “No” that came from her office clear.

  Maggie slowed to a stop, careful not to make any noise with her heels. Her heartbeat rose as she stopped and listened, only a few offices away from her corner. The door stood slightly ajar and the shadows of someone cast onto the floor of the hallway.

  A male voice, muffled, said something.

  “No,” Lindsay’s voice squeaked, an octave too high. “I said I don’t want to.”

  Maggie crept closer and took her phone out, hitting “video record” in her camera setting before putting it into her pocket.

  Doctor York’s voice became clear as Maggie reached the door.

  “- you to lose your position. I’m looking out for you.”

  “No,” Lindsay squeaked again. Something brushed against the door from inside her office.

  “I will end yours and Doctor Knight’s careers,” Doctor York said, more aggressively. “Show me how much you want a position here next semester.”

  Bile rose in Maggie’s throat. She’d heard enough.

  Maggie slammed through the door, earning looks of surprise from Lindsay and Doctor York. Lindsay was leaning against her desk, tr
ying to get away from the seventy-year-old, pudgy man. The old man was grabbing her arm and looked to be trying to push her against the desk. He quickly let go of Lindsay’s arm and took a hasty step back.

  Disgust rippled through Maggie. York didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. A smug smile drifted across his face as he met her gaze.

  “Doctor Knight,” he said swiftly, his usual charm oozing from his voice, “How nice of you to join us.”

  “Don’t you dare have the audacity to sound annoyed,” Maggie spat. Gesturing to Lindsay, she hastily grabbed her student’s arm and pulled her behind her, placing herself firmly between her student and her boss.

  “I don’t know what you thought you heard,” Doctor York replied, “But I can assure you it was out of context.”

  Anger swelled as she gripped Lindsay’s arm protectively. “I can assure you that it was plenty of context. Pack your shit, I’m going to the cops.”

  York's smile widened. “Your career can’t stand another false rape claim. You’ll never work as a scientist again.”

  The anger seeped out. Images flashed through Maggie’s mind before she could stop them. Her partner leaning in for an unwanted kiss. The shame Maggie felt afterwards when talking to her husband. The report to the Dean. The reporters chasing Mason into his school as the news broke about the most beloved and philanthropic Professor at the University of Toronto. The trial. The not-guilty charge. Mason begging her to tell everyone it had been a lie. Her public apology to the throng of reporters, which was needed to avoid the slander lawsuit.

  Images, sounds, smells, guilt and shame slaughtered Maggie’s conscious thought.

  “Ah,” York said, popping a candy from her desk into his mouth. “See? I knew it was just a misunderstanding.” And, without a look back, he pushed past her and Lindsay out to the hall.

  “I will see you this afternoon at the big start-up,” he called over his shoulder, “I would hate for a scandal to wipe out everything you’ve accomplished.” The elevator at the end of the hall opened its doors, and its maws swallowed the pudgy usurper of moral turpitude.