Jurassic Earth Trilogy Box Set

by Logan T Stark

  These problems, however, were monumentally overshadowed by the fact there were only a few liters of water remaining. If she waited until they ran dry, they’d be in serious trouble, terminal trouble. The devastating heat seemed to be simmering down, which made her hopeful the scalding fog was subsiding, but it was still hot enough that her and the eepees would die within a day or two without hydration.

  The thin windows skirting the bunker were now strips of dark gray, so something had changed outside. The time to open the door was here. There was no choice. She had water purification tablets, so could purify rainwater. She only needed to open the door a few inches, just enough to reach through the crack. If she was able to position water barrels with the tops cut off, she could collect rainwater and extend their lifespans. If she also reduced their rations, they might stretch to a couple more weeks perhaps, after which they’d be forced to eat raw potatoes, which she wasn’t sure was wise or even possible. She had fire making tools and materials, but couldn’t make fire inside the bunker as they’d choke on the smoke.

  It was abundantly clear their situation was becoming increasingly grim. It was bad and getting worse. She imagined the bunker as a package now, below a tree in a nightmarish realm, wrapped in darkness, beyond which salivating monsters were waiting, eager for the grand unboxing.

  “You gotta do it, Becks,” she said, holding and squeezing her head. “You gotta open the door. The eepees need water. You’re all badly dehydrated. You’re not drinking enough, you know it.”

  “What if it’s still boiling?”

  She couldn’t be sure, but she imagined her internal conversations had migrated externally. Sometimes it seemed there was someone else with her, a dark stranger who’s sinister mutterings scared her witless.

  “If it’s boiling, walk into the steam and sit down. Close your eyes and wait. The pain will fade. It won’t last forever.”

  “I don’t wanna die…”

  “We all die, Becca, we’re all born to die. No one can escape that.”

  “Not me, not yet. I wanna live. I’m gonna survive. Somehow, I’m going home and when I’m old, very old, and my grandkids are making fun of me for being a dinosaur, I’ll tell them, that’s right, granny lived with the dinosaurs. When my time comes, I’ll be surrounded by all the people I love, many years from now. I won’t take anything less. I refuse!”

  “What about the radiation? Don’t forget about the radiation. It’s nuclear fallout. You’re already dying. You know I’m right. It’s creeping through the walls of your tomb right now. Ever so slowly, bit by bit, inch by inch, death is coming.”

  “No, I’m fine, I feel fine. Shut up!”

  “The water out there’s poisoned too. Each drop is a dose of radioactive death. You were never going to survive this, but you know that, don’t you? You can’t fight the inevitable, Becca. Walk into the steam and sit down. The pain will fade. Accept your fate.”

  “No, you’re wrong! The worst of the radiation’s contained miles below the Earth’s crust. The starjet would’ve sunk deep. It was sinking for hours. If any radiation escaped it’s covered by lava, sealed away. It is safe outside, I know it. I don’t have to listen to this, crap. I’ve had enough. Go to Hell!”

  “Who’s to say we’re not already there?”

  Becca grappled for the torch and switched it on. She shone the beam around the room, expecting to find the ghoulish stranger standing in a corner, facing away from her, hunched, long damp hair clinging to its spectral shoulders.

  “You’re going outside today,” she said. “You will not go mad, Becca, you hear? Get a grip. You’re doing this. Cover your skin and open the door. Fight and survive. Take a bite!”

  Becca discovered mould growing on the inside of her survival suit. She cleared away as much as possible, then donned the slimy fabric, which felt like the skin of a giant wet slug.

  “So this is how Princess Leia felt,” she said, shuddering. “Uch, gross.”

  She cut the tops off some water barrels and set them by the door, ready to place outside. She then wrapped her tattered shirt around her face, tucking it into her neckline, and used her socks as gloves. She worked quickly, not allowing herself time to think. Once ready, she strode to the door. The moment her hand touched the handle the eepees flew into a frenzy and began darting around her ankles, squealing madly.

  “Shoo, get back,” she shouted, shining the torch in their faces. “Oi, back,” she continued, clapping her sock covered hands ineffectually. “Come on, get back! What’s wrong with you?”

  The eepees paid no attention and continued their crazed dance. She tried to convince them to calm down for a good half an hour, but it was like trying to reason with a group of tantrumming toddlers. They weren’t having any of it. They weren’t even interested in food. She tried walling the door off with a camp bed, but they dragged it away and clawed at the metal.

  “Don’t you get it, I’m tryin’a save you? You’re gonna get hurt.”

  Eventually, unable to calm the creatures, she did her best to use her body to block the opening. She held her foot close to the door, so it could only open a crack. That way she could kick it quickly shut before the eepees did something stupid or were seriously injured.

  The latch disengaged with a crack that echoed through the bunker. Carefully, Becca peeled the door open. There was a soft puff of air. She felt an immediate swell of panic. Steam was tumbling in. She was about to shove the door closed but, to her horror, realized one of the eepees had squeezed past and had its hands wrapped around the door. Its pals quickly joined in, tugging for all they were worth, their noses scrunching under the effort, their little teeth clenched, eyes closed tight. Stupidly, one of them was pressing its hind feet to the door itself in an attempt to get more leverage.

  “Come on, get your hands in, sto…” Becca suddenly realized the animals didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the fog rolling across their faces. She removed one of the sock gloves with her teeth and waved her hand through the white vapour. “It’s normal, it’s not hot…”

  Overcome with elation so intense it was close to panic, Becca flung the door open. She felt like a diver running out of breath, desperately clawing for and breaking the surface of an ocean, in which she’d been drowning. Fresh air flooded her lungs. It felt like it was moving through her veins, thick and tingling, filling her with vitality. Then she realized her error. The eepees bolted and were claimed by the fog within meters.

  “No, no, wait!” She cried, swinging the torch across the shining whiteness. “Come back. Wait! Don’t… please don’t leave me. Please come back…”

  Becca’s mind and body moved from joy to grief in an instant. She wilted and clutched the doorframe. The Ranger inside told her the eepees were wild animals and not meant to be caged, but the lone survivor’s heart ached. Without the eepee’s companionship she was utterly alone.

  She wedged an empty water barrel in the door, afraid the sinister stranger was materialising in the shadows, readying to taunt her, eager to release waspish thoughts from its hive of madness. With the door open there was faint light and fresh air, which might banish the intrusive entity. She also hoped her furry friends might return.

  She knew she didn’t have to worry about dinosaurs. The raised plateau was a microhabitat that had evolved free from large predators. It was mostly insects, eepees, birds and pterodactyls, which were small and harmless. They were no larger and no more dangerous that a kestrel or a hawk. The only predators large enough to be a threat were pterosaurs, huge winged reptiles the size of houses, but they wouldn’t be able to hunt in the fog and even if they could, they were too big to get more than a head inside the bunker.

  Becca sank onto her cot and lay motionless, staring at the door. It was slowly brightening outside and for the first time in weeks, soft white light streaked through the letterbox windows. She decided to take it as a sign, an omen that things were looking up. To occupy her mind she got up, emptied the ready bag and sorted its contents. If she wa
s going to survive it would require embarking on excursions, and for that she’d need tools. She needed to be prepared.

  She re-packed three canteens, water purification tablets, a large can of pepper spray, a Leatherman Surge multi-tool, a Gerber knife, fire making equipment, digital binoculars, a small medical kit, spare batteries, she could pack the torch later, tape, some para cord and the last remaining energy bar. She then placed the water collection containers outside and opened one of the vacuum sealed pouches of potatoes, which she wrapped in foil, ready for cooking. After that, she checked her boots were tightly laced and set them beside her bunk. The soles were melted, but there was nothing to do about it. They would suffice.

  Whilst trying to think if there was anything she’d forgotten, a two-way radio in the jumble of items remaining on the floor caught her eye. She reached down, picked it up and twisted the power knob. The walkie crackled. Her finger moved over the push-to-talk button. She longed to hear a human voice other than the haunting strangers.

  “There’s no one out there, Becks. You’re the only human in the solar system. Don’t torture yourself. Even if you had a satellite phone there’d…”

  Becca’s hand trembled and she dropped the walkie, which bounced across the concrete. She gasped and sprang to her feet, the camp bed skittering off behind her. Goose pimples electrified her arms and shivers wriggled down her spine. Endorphins surged as she remembered there was a satellite phone. In the forest beyond the plateau, on the right side of the island, was a facility that housed the old starcom communications system. It had been plagued with problems and had never really worked properly, so wasn’t used. It had only ever been able to send grainy images, but that’s all she needed. A grainy image was enough to send a message home. The star portal in space would still be open, it took almost a year to power down. The communication link-up with Earth was still active. She could tell people she was still alive…

  “Don’t get too excited, the bunker’s probably buried under twenty meters of lava,” the dark stranger hissed.

  “It’s not, shut up and go away.”

  She pictured the obliterated volcano at the center of the island. Its left and front flanks had been blasted away. It was quite possible the right side of the island had survived the worst of the explosion. There was a chance the starcom communications facility was still accessible and functioning.

  “I know it’ll work, I know it. That’s one heck of bite, Becca. Atta girl. Now we just gotta figure a plan to get off this damn plateau.”

  A New Hope

  N ight had fallen and Becca still hadn’t come up with a definitive plan to get off the plateau. She was trying to convince herself the lava that had created the rocky arches overhead must have also bunched against the cliff wall, creating an incline she could clamber down. When the fog lifted she’d check. Failing that, she might be able to free-climb down the criss-crossed struts of the structure housing the elevator that descended to the monorail system, which had threaded through the island’s habitats. However, much like the habitats, the elevator shaft was probably destroyed. If anything remained it was likely wreckage, a rickety death trap, but at least it was an option and the more options she could place on the table, the better her chances.

  When the fog cleared, she planned to recce the right side of the island using the binoculars, to check if the bunker was accessible. Even if it was buried in lava, she knew she’d spend as long as it took to dig her way in. If she was going to die, it would be on her feet and fighting. Nothing was going to stand in her way now there was a chance of rescue.

  A haze of pastel moonlight shone through the evening mist, in which long shadows stretched from the obscured lava arches overhead. Becca used the light to her advantage and set to making a belt from tent canvasing. She used a plastic clasp from the backpack as a buckle. It was an old bush-fix she’d learned at Kruger. She’d used a similar technique for everything from splinting limbs to fixing tourists’ camera straps.

  To give her diet some much needed variety, she’d decided to make a fire and cook some potatoes in the morning. She didn’t want to venture too far from the bunker in case she got turned around in the mist and became lost. Such things were easily done. She had a canteen with a compass built into the lid, which she planned on attaching to the bush-rigged belt. That way she could carry water and keep track of her position whilst leaving her hands free to work. She could also attach a Leatherman Multi Tool, which had a knife, saw, plyers and a host of other gadgets. Even though she wasn’t going farther than a few dozen meters, she wasn’t about to leave the safety of the bunker without options. Rangers who ventured out without backup became ex-rangers very quickly, sometimes gruesomely, especially in places as volatile and dangerous as this.

  Eventually, after the tidal waves had struck and the volcanoes had trumpeted their daily call, and there were no more jobs to occupy her mind, Becca lay back in her cot. She found it hard to relax. Her stomach was fluttering with excitement at the possibilities the coming days might bring. Her busily shifting eyes didn’t seem to want to settle and close. She lay for hours, watching through a crack in the door as the shadows cast by the stone arches slowly tracked across the heavens. At some point she must have drifted off.

  A piercing wail made her wake in fright. Her mind fizzed into action and she frantically stared around the dimly lit bunker.

  “H… hello, someone there?”

  Her words fell away and her blood ran cold as the door began swinging open, pale light creeping across the floor and up the wall. At the center of the expanding patch of light was an elongating shadow, its head a writhing mass of tentacles, like the snakes on Medusa’s head. Becca screamed. It was happening. The Gods had sent her executioner. Her scream was met with a squeak and the figure retreated.

  “Bring it, come… wha…”

  She exhaled a shuddering sigh as the eepees tumbled into the bunker. Panting, she held a hand to her chest and was soon being bundled by her furry friends, who were madly squeaking and licking her face and hands.

  “Good to see you guys. I thought you’d left me,” she said, laughing and petting their adorable little heads. “You came back. I missed you guys.”

  She switched on the torch and laid it on the ground so the light could bounce off the wall. She noticed one of the eepees was clutching a wriggling centipede in its mouth, which it promptly dumped onto her lap.

  “Whaaaah…” Becca squealed as the centipede scuttled up her stomach towards her chest, its creepy antennae roving. “Naaaahhh, get off!” She cried, flicking the beastie away. “Why, why, why would you do that?”

  The eepee that had offered the arthropod chased after it and snatched it up in its mouth. There was a wet crunch and the centipede fell limp, except for a few twitching legs. The eepee returned and gently placed the spasming offering on Becca’s lap, greenish-yellow slime oozing from its half-severed neck.

  “That’s, uh, very sweet,” Becca said, eyeing the decapitated creepy-crawly, which the eepee nudged towards her with its snout. The eepee chirped and stepped back, then stood tall and blinked as though full of pride for its efforts.

  Becca chuckled. Her disgust at the offering was outweighed by the miracle it represented. Not only were her new friends bringing her gifts, which meant they were truly bonded, but there was still life on the island. Parts of the world outside had survived. It meant the eepees could rebuild their colony and, in time, thrive again. The land would heal. A small amount of the darkness in her mind and a portion of the weight on her shoulders seemed to lift.

  The eepee picked up the dead arthropod in its teeth and hopped onto Becca’s lap. It placed its hands on her chest and pushed the offering towards her mouth.

  “Oh, no. No, no. I’m very thankful, but I can’t eat the, the… that.”

  The eepee snorted an impatient sounding grunt and pushed the dead insect against Becca’s lips. She recoiled and plucked the centipede from the eepee’s mouth between forefinger and thumb, and held it l
ike a soiled rag. The eepee snuffled and chirped.

  “I know, I get it, I’m gonna run out of food. I know I need to learn to eat new things. It’s just hard for me. I’m not used to eating things like… well, this, you understand?”

  The eepee sniffed and nudged her hand towards her mouth. Its fellows stood on the camp bed, watching Becca with anticipation, their little heads cocking inquisitively, their large eyes blinking.

  “I don’t wanna let you guys down. Pretend it’s just like fast food,” she said to herself. “Lots of people around the world eat insects. It’s totally normal. You ate grubs in training. It’s just like yummy foreign food. Just uncooked, slimy, oozing… crap, crapetty, crap, okay, here goes,” she said, taking a few quick breaths before shoving the thing into her mouth and hastily munching.

  The centipede popped and crunched. It tasted much like what Becca imagined a warm swamp full of stagnating leaves mixed with pus would, truly horrendous, but she needed to learn to eat the foods available. Even after she’d sent a message through the starcom satellite network it could take months for a rescue mission to arrive. If she was going to survive, she needed to get used to Jurassic Earth’s exotic buffet.

  “That’s quite a flavor,” she said, supressing her gag reflex and forcing herself to swallow, shell pieces scratching down her throat. “Oh please, please stay down. So, euuuch, gross.”

  For a good few minutes she sat hunched over, breathing deeply and willing herself not to vomit. One of the eepees gave a purring chirp. It bounded onto the camp bed and presented Becca with a twig, which it placed on her thighs.

  “Is this like a bravery award?” She said chuckling, picking up the twig and scratching the eepee behind the ears. “I guess you guys are taking care of me now. I gotta tell ya, this is the worst and best moonlit dinner I’ve ever had. I knew you were angels.”