The Savageside (The Flipside Sagas Book 2)

by Jake Bible

  Everywhere he looked there were sick people. Most of the base was suffering through whatever Bloom had contracted. Suffering through what had killed Bloom only three weeks earlier…

  Some of the personnel acknowledged Thompson, giving him short nods as they hurried by, off to perform a hundred different duties that weren’t being performed because of the base-wide epidemic. Thompson smiled at those that passed by, those that were still dedicated to keeping Flipside BOP together.

  No one smiled back. Mainly because all duties eventually devolved into carting a corpse to the burn piles set around the edges of the base. They had to trade off which pile to burn which day all due to the direction the wind was blowing. Burning corpse smoke did not help morale when it filled the entire base. Nor was it sanitary to have that ash floating inside the base. Watching the wind had become a very important job.

  When Thompson reached his destination, he knocked softly and waited. Elvis turned around a couple of times then lay down in the dirt off to the side of the hut Thompson was standing in front of.

  The door opened and Mike stuck his head out of the hut.

  “You alone?” Mike asked.

  “Aren’t we all, Michael?” Thompson replied.

  “Dude…”

  “Yes, I am alone,” Thompson said. “Do you have anything for me?”

  “Come on in,” Mike said and held his door open. He waited for Thompson to climb the couple of steps and go inside, then looked about the base as if spies were watching him. He shut the door, locked it, and turned to Thompson who had already cleared a spot from Mike’s cot and sat down. “Make yourself at home.”

  “I will,” Thompson said. “What do you have?”

  “Not much,” Mike said. “But maybe more than we had a week ago.”

  “I do not intend to waste time deciphering your ramblings today, Michael,” Thompson said. “Tell me what you have.”

  “I briefly, and I mean briefly, so I cannot be sure, but I briefly thought I had comms connected to Topside,” Mike said.

  That got Thompson’s attention and his bored annoyance quickly turned to interest.

  “Explain,” Thompson ordered.

  “I manned the comms all last night,” Mike said, pointing at the makeshift setup in the corner of his hut. “This is only a relay to the main system in the command—”

  “I know. Topside. Did you or did you not communicate with them?” Thompson snapped.

  “Maybe. And the only reason I say maybe is because they couldn’t hear me,” Mike said. “I could hear them, and the way they were talking back and forth, it sounded just like Topside command.”

  “Except…?” Thompson said. “I know that tone, Michael. What is the problem?”

  “I didn’t understand anything they were saying,” Mike replied.

  “So it was not Topside BOP?” Thompson asked. “A different country’s base? What language were they speaking?”

  “No, they were speaking English,” Mike explained. “And I was hearing American accents, but they were…”

  “Michael…” Thompson snarled. “I have important work to do. I need to get back to Tressa and the others ASAP.”

  “Yes, dude, of course,” Mike said. “They were acting like they were at war. That’s how they sounded. Everyone I could hear, and there was a ton of static, everyone was coordinating troop movements and supply runs. They were discussing defensive failures.”

  “Perhaps the Russians are attacking in our time too,” Thompson said. He glanced toward the direction the main gate was in and sighed. “How I would almost welcome a heads-up attack instead of this constant waiting game Petrov is playing.”

  “We could try talking to him again,” Mike suggested.

  “He refuses to talk any more,” Thompson said. “He’s waiting for us to open the gates for him and his people. None of them are sick and there is a reason for that.”

  “Dr. Raskov said—”

  “Dr. Raskov is dead, Michael,” Thompson snarled. “So his opinion is not relevant. It is left up to me to navigate our way out of this nightmare.”

  “How is Liv doing with Astrid being gone?” Mike asked.

  “How would you do if you lost your wife three days ago?” Thompson responded and waved his hand. “It does not matter. She is dealing just like the rest of us.”

  Thompson rubbed his face then gave Mike a weak grin.

  “Please continue with your story about this communication,” Thompson said. “Is there anything else of relevance?”

  “Yes,” Mike said and got somewhat excited. “They were discussing how technology was breaking down rapidly.”

  Thompson waited and when Mike did not continue, he stood up and clapped his hands.

  “Well, this has been wonderful,” Thompson said.

  “No, dude, you aren’t getting it!” Mike exclaimed.

  “Apparently not.”

  “Technology is breaking down Topside. Don’t you see? It’s malfunctioning just like it does here.”

  “That is not a good thing, Michael.”

  “Yes, it is, dude!”

  “Please refrain from calling me dude.”

  “Oh, fuck that!” Mike shouted and threw up his hands. “I’ll call anyone I want dude! What’s the worst that could happen? I contract a disease that turns my lungs into cottage cheese so I cough blood for hours then die?”

  Thompson only stared.

  “Right. Sorry.” Mike wiped sweat from his brow. “If technology is breaking down Topside, then that means Flipside is influencing the future.”

  “Explain.”

  “There are cracks in time. Probably in time and space, but for certain time. If whatever is messed up here is getting through one of those cracks, then maybe we can find the crack and slip through too.”

  Thompson smiled.

  “Can you find these cracks?”

  “I…um… No,” Mike said. “Not from here.”

  “But maybe if you decided to come out of your hut and work with us in the command hut?”

  “Maybe. I just…” Mike stared at his door. “I can’t go out there. I did the piles of corpses thing when we were first stranded here. Before you and Cash and the others showed up. Back when it was only—”

  “I know the story, Michael.”

  “I just can’t do that again.”

  “Then close your eyes.”

  “I can still smell the bodies.”

  “Then close your eyes and your nose and I will lead you to the command hut.”

  “Mr. Thompson, I appreciate what you are doing, but for right now, I think staying here is best.”

  Thompson shrugged. “I’ll have a meal brought by. Keep listening on your equipment there. Let me know if you change your mind.”

  “I will,” Mike said. “Let you know. Not change my mind. But I guess if I let you know, then I have changed my mind, so really it means—”

  “Goodbye, Michael,” Thompson said and left Mike mid-sentence.

  Elvis stood up as soon as Thompson exited the hut. The dino shook its body then leaned in and nudged Thompson in the shoulder with its beak.

  “I know, boy,” Thompson said. “We’ll get you some food shortly. I need to make one more stop before our day begins.”

  Thompson walked off and Elvis trotted along right behind him.

  The armory was unguarded, and Thompson was pretty pissed at first, then realized that they simply didn’t have the manpower to guard all areas of the base. Those that weren’t sick of tending to the sick were up on the walkway, watching the Russians or watching the landscape to see if the Russians would finally try a sneak attack from the rear of the base.

  They were also watching for signs of Cash’s team’s return and Ivy’s team’s return. But Thompson did not have high hopes he would see either team make it back to Flipside BOP alive. They’d been gone too long. Even if they’d been hiking back on foot, they would have returned at least a week ago.

  Thompson walked into the armory and s
elected a .338 sniper rifle. He picked up a couple of magazines, made sure they were packed with cartridges, tucked those into his pockets, and left without taking anything else.

  Thompson backtracked toward the main gate. He stopped by Elvis’s enclosure and snagged a length of rope and a makeshift harness, tossing both up onto Elvis’s armored back.

  “Don’t lose that,” Thompson said.

  Elvis grunted.

  The two navigated through the death and despair to the main gate where a guard gave Thompson a weary nod then opened the gate wide enough for the man and the dino to slip out into Flipside proper.

  Thompson gave the line of Russian rollers a quick glance, but didn’t see Petrov sitting in his usual chair. One of his subordinates was there instead. The woman gave Thompson a brief wave and a nod. Thompson flipped her off then turned left and followed the base’s wall all the way around to the backside.

  Once fully away from the Russians’ prying eyes, Thompson stopped and peered up at the top of the wall. He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. A guard appeared almost instantly.

  “Where am I headed today?” Thompson asked.

  The guard pointed to the south. “A couple of teeth were that way earlier, but I don’t see them anymore. I did spot a small herd of Triceratops about six clicks off. They walked over the horizon though, so they’re probably long gone by now.”

  “The teeth? Only a couple?” Thompson asked.

  “Yeah. Two of them. Tyrannosaurs, maybe.”

  “I’ll try those. Thank you.”

  “You bet, sir,” the guard said. “Hopefully you make a catch today. Something fresh to eat would be nice.”

  “I agree one hundred percent.”

  Thompson gave the guard a last wave then walked off in the direction the man had indicated.

  The sun was angled in the sky and Thompson guessed it was about eleven in the morning. Maybe earlier, but the way the air was heating up, he figured it was closer to eleven than ten.

  “You happy to be out again, boy?” Thompson asked as Elvis followed a few paces behind. The dino grunted. “Yeah. Me too.” Thompson looked over his shoulder and laughed. “You can breathe out of your nose now.”

  Elvis shook his head.

  “Yes, you can. We’re far away enough that we can…”

  Then the smell hit him. Smoke. Corpse smoke.

  “Ah. Never mind then,” Thompson said. “You were right all along. You never know which way the wind will blow. Should mask our smell from the teeth we’re going to hunt, though.”

  Elvis did not respond to that, only kept walking in step with Thompson.

  The two walked for an hour before Thompson saw dino sign in the dirt. He knelt and put his hand over the track.

  “Definitely a T-rex,” Thompson said more to himself than to Elvis. “Two of them…?”

  He stood and walked a few more meters then crouched again near a new set of tracks.

  “Yes, two of them,” he confirmed to himself. “Juveniles by the foot size and length of claws. That will make this a little easier.”

  Elvis snorted.

  “I didn’t say it would be easy, I said it would be easier,” Thompson responded. “You smell them close by, boy?”

  Thompson stood and stared at the dino. The dino that still refused to open its nostrils.

  “Elvis,” Thompson admonished. “You are allowed to come with me because you serve two purposes. One is that you can sniff out dinos when they are near. Two is that you can help haul the meat back when I make a kill. If you cannot perform either of those purposes, then I will leave you back at the base next time.”

  Elvis snorted louder.

  “I do not know how I will get the meat back,” Thompson said. “I’ll bring a hand cart and haul it all by myself.”

  Elvis’s snort was even louder the third time. Then his nostrils stayed open and grew wide as Elvis lifted his head into the air.

  “There we go,” Thompson said. “Which way?”

  Elvis turned southwest and loped away. Thompson nodded. It was his turn to follow. He had to pick up his pace to stay abreast of Elvis. The dino had locked onto a scent and was intent on finding the source of the scent as soon as possible.

  The landscape before them began to change after forty minutes of brisk hiking. The grass grew shorter and more trees appeared here and there until Thompson was surprised to find himself staring at a grove of what looked like palm trees. Although the fronds had needles more like pines.

  Elvis stopped about fifteen meters from the edge of the grove and waved his head back and forth, back and forth, wafting the smells coming from the trees. The dino grunted loudly then turned in a circle and plopped down on the ground. The gear on top of him rolled off into the short grass. Thompson fetched it and moved it out of the way so if Elvis got up quickly, it wouldn’t get trampled.

  Then Thompson once again checked the rifle, put it to his shoulder, and stepped cautiously toward the grove.

  As his daughter had pointed out many times over the last couple of weeks, there were others that could go out hunting for meat. And as Thompson had pointed out, those others were needed more at Flipside BOP than out in the field hunting dinos. Plus, Thompson was the only one that could get Elvis to agree to be a pack mule for a day. Every operator or personnel member that had tried ended up launched halfway across the base by an angry tail.

  There was also the fact that Thompson not only liked hunting, but he was very, very good at it. And in the early days of Flipside, before any bases had been built and back when Thompson was a younger man, hunting for food was how you survived. The trips into Flipside always went wrong and always ended up being longer than they had rations for. So hunting kept them fed.

  Dino meat tasted damn good roasted over a fire, so there was that too.

  The shade from the trees above fell over Thompson as he walked slowly into the grove, his eyes looking for any sign of movement.

  Of course, there was plenty of movement to distract him. Birds and small lizards darted about the canopy. There was the snuffling of something digging in the brush to Thompson’s left, probably a primitive mammal tracking insects to eat. A snake climbed up a tree trunk to Thompson’s right, the animal’s muscles bunching and loosening, bunching and loosening in a rhythm that allowed it to grip the bark and scale the tree vertically.

  Then the soft bark of a predator caught Thompson’s attention and he froze. The sound wasn’t repeated, so Thompson slowly got to one knee and searched the area through the rifle’s scope. The teeth were cold-blooded, so switching the scope to thermal shouldn’t have been much help. Except Thompson knew exactly what the thermal signature of a predator looked like; all blues and greens shaped just like a T-rex.

  There. Straight ahead. Maybe six meters or less.

  Thompson took aim, putting the crosshairs on a spot just below the dino’s shoulder, and squeezed the trigger. The rifle’s report echoed around him, causing the birds above to explode from the trees and take off high above the grove. The dino Thompson had been aiming at screeched then stumbled and fell into view, its eyes rolling in its head from pain and panic.

  Thompson did not hesitate. He put a bullet right between the juvenile tyrannosaur’s eyes, killing the beast instantly.

  “One down,” Thompson said and stood back up, his joints creaking and popping from the exertion. “One to go.”

  There was a bellow from behind him and Thompson whirled around, rifle up, to see Elvis charging through the grove straight at him. Thompson knew the look in the dino’s eyes and he began to sweep the area, turning this way and that, to find the other T-rex.

  The predator showed itself just as Elvis almost reached Thompson. The beast burst from its cover and launched itself onto Elvis’s back. Which was the worst move it could make.

  Elvis may have been raised in captivity, spending most of his life Topside instead of Flipside, but for the past year, he had been living in his normal time and place. Living with people that
were more than willing to teach him new things. Things like how to fight off predators in ways that his natural instincts would not have taught him.

  That was exactly what Elvis did at the moment the T-rex landed on his armored back. If he’d reacted instinctively, he would have tried to shake the creature off or rolled over to dislodge the predator. Instead, Elves simply dropped and tucked his legs under him, letting his natural armor protect his body from the massive teeth that were trying to bite through to his chewy center.

  What Elvis did, was offer up a perfect shot for Thompson to take. Which Thompson took. Half the tyrannosaur’s head became mist as the .338 round punched through its temple and out the other side. The dino corpse’s teeth disengaged upon its death and the body rolled off Elvis’s back.

  “Good boy,” Thompson said. “Way to be smart.”

  Elvis grunted and stood up, giving the T-rex corpse a solid kick with his right front leg.

  “Okay, you stay here and I’ll get the harness and rope,” Thompson said.

  Elvis snorted in protest.

  “Or you stay behind at the base next time,” Thompson continued. Elvis didn’t snort at that.

  ***

  “Last of the mud,” Olivia said as she sat down next to Tressa in the command hut.

  Tressa was hunched over a keyboard, typing furiously, and didn’t notice the mug of mud or Olivia.

  “Tressa? Hey. Drink that,” Olivia snapped. “I used Astrid’s last ration token to get it for you.”

  Tressa continued to type, her entire being focused on the screen in front of her.

  “Tressa!” Olivia shouted.

  There were two techs in the command hut and they jumped and went for pistols that were close at hand.

  “Chill,” Olivia said, holding up her hands. “Everyone calm down.”

  The techs eyed Olivia, gave Tressa a quick glance, then got back to their own work.

  “I heard you, Liv,” Tressa said, her voice a raspy croak. There was a fresh scar in the middle of her throat. A tracheotomy scar. “Busy.”

  “You didn’t survive the first wave of sickness to die from starvation hunched over a fucking keyboard, Tressa,” Olivia said. “Drink the fucking mud or I’ll force feed it to you.”