The eepees appeared genuinely pleased Becca had eaten the centipede and accepted the twig. That night, after laboriously picking pieces of shell from her teeth, and with a silvery moon watching over them, Becca curled beside her protectors and entered the first peaceful night’s sleep she’d had since becoming stranded. By morning, she felt almost whole. The discomfort in her stomach from the month-long diet of dry foods was completely absent. She rubbed her belly, wondering if her furry friends hadn’t given her some sort of medicine, something they’d learned cured an upset stomach.
Over months of research prior to the destruction of the island, the Jura base’s scientists had been discovering similar phenomenon across numerous species. Many of the animals on Jurassic Earth had been evolving for millions of years, which far exceeded modern humans’ mere two-hundred thousand years. The modern archaeological record showed the cranial cavities of Jurassic animals to be small, which suggested small brains and low intelligence. This conclusion had been derived by mapping and comparing relative brain sizes of Jurassic animals against equivalent modern-day animals. Most dinosaurs were believed to have been no smarter than a cat, but Becca’s observations and indeed, the observations of Jura base’s behavioural biologists had suggested otherwise. These animals were smart, not as clever as humans, but they were far from the lolloping dopes modern science believed them to be.
The prevailing hypothesis to explain the discovery was that, much like advancements in microchip technology, which resulted in shrinking size with expanding capability, Jurassic animals were simply more evolved. Their brains appeared to have been tweaked, shrunk and optimised by Mother Nature over years of trial and error. The assumption Jurassic animals and dinosaurs were stupid was wrong. They displayed incredible emotional intelligence, high levels of environmental awareness and in some cases, had been observed using tools. Becca herself had witnessed a spinosaurus collect and heap vegetation in order to lure hungry prey to the lake in which it dwelled. Jurassic animals were aware and actively manipulating their environment. Curiously, inquisitively, Becca examined the twig the eepee had given her the previous evening.
“It’s a fricking toothbrush, a toothpick. It was to pick the centipede shell out of my teeth. How’d I not twig that?” She said, laughing at her own bad joke. “Jeez, they even got me beat, clever little critters.”
Becca donned her belt and wedged the bunker door wide open. She could hear the eepees playing in the mist nearby. She built a fire a short way from the shelter, beside a mound of solidified lava which acted as a windbreak and heat reflector. The eepees bounded out of the mist and visited her from time to time as she waited for the flames to die down enough to start cooking the foil wrapped potatoes. Things almost seemed good, great in fact. She didn’t feel alone in the slightest.
The thought of leaving her newfound friends weighed heavy on her heart. If she managed to descend from the plateau it would likely be a one way trip. She might never see the eepees again. Her furry friends suddenly seemed the most important thing in existence. She suddenly didn’t want to leave the plateau. She’d be alone down there in the wastelands of the nuclear jungle. There were a billion things that could go wrong. In the best-case scenario rescue was many weeks away, likely months. If the dark stranger returned, she doubted she’d have the strength to fight it off alone.
The eepees had saved her. Leaving them was madness. Maybe it was better to stay, to carve out as best a life as possible. It might not be so bad, living with her little angels. They could take care of each other, look out for each other. She could help them build the best home they’d ever had.
There was a sudden swoosh, followed by a sound like a rug being beaten clear of dust. Three powerful thumps. Something flew out of the mist to her right and Becca scrabbled backwards. An eepee appeared. It tugged at her foot, shrieking. Somewhere in the mist the other eepees were wailing, shrill terrified bleats that were receding. A gargling hiss rattled from the bunker behind her. The eepee by her foot gave a strong tug, then fled.
As though compelled by a sinister force outside her will, Becca slowly turned. The silhouette of a colossal reptilian bird was perched above the bunker door, at least three storeys high, talons clutching the concrete, its huge wings bent back at a joint at the center, making it look like an enormous mangled umbrella. There was little detail through the fog, but Becca immediately knew what it was and her heart zoomed into overdrive, hammering at light speed. The pterosaur turned its head, opened its toothy beak and shrieked a cry that sent stinging adrenaline shredding through her limbs.
Terror Soar
T he snap decisions one makes in a flurry of confusion and panic are seldom wise. Becca was realizing this as she sprinted for all her worth, unsure in which direction she was headed. The cooksite was located on the southern edge of the plateau, overlooking the Tethys Ocean. It was chosen so tourists could enjoy barbequed ribs and fire roasted potatoes whilst watching tidal waves crash against the cliff and volcanoes erupt across the surrounding islands from a safe vantage. Since she was so close to the cliff edge, and running blind, she was acutely aware that any second now the ground might drop from beneath her. The confirmation she’d chosen the wrong direction would only be revealed in the few seconds she’d have to wish she’d run the other way as she plummeted to her death.
Nevertheless, she moved with sure-footed confidence, arms moving like jackhammers, convinced she was heading towards the scorched forest between the cooksite and the Jura Base. She knew only two things for sure. Firstly, the security drones that had kept the colossal flying predators at bay were no longer operational, which wasn’t surprising. Secondly, and most importantly, pterosaurs were hopeless on the ground. She could hear the beast clumsily hobbling behind her on all fours, its rattling breaths heavy under the effort. Even if the forest was so severely burned only a few stumps remained, they’d create enough obstacles to give her the upper hand. She could dodge and weave, the pterosaur could not. She could already hear its talons clumsily scrabbling as it stumbled over cooled mounds of lava, which Becca was vaulting with ease.
As she sprinted, a new concern was evolving, one she was surprised she hadn’t considered until now. If the centipede the eepees had given her had survived the volcanic blast, many creatures might have survived. If the east side of the island hadn’t been exposed to the brunt of the explosion, large predators could have survived. They’d be burned and hangry. Then if, as she imagined, lava was bunched against the plateau, they might’ve already climbed up here in search of food, which meant there were possibly monsters in the mist.
“When you get home, that’s the title of your book,” she said, panting. “Monsters in the Mist, the true-life story of how you survived Jurassic Earth. It’ll be the bestseller mum never had. Let’s make it happen, Becks, come on… mum’ll help you write it. You can have a bestseller together… but you need to get home first… you need to survive…”
A few charred stumpy tree trunks loomed out of the fog, thrusting up at haphazard angles like tombstones littering a post-apocalyptic wasteland. The pterosaur screeched, its powerful wings beating the air. Becca grabbed the nearest trunk and ducked as a shadow passed overhead. The giant reptilian bird pounded to the ground ahead, hidden by fog, its location only given away by a radiating misty concussion wave.
“I know you’re there! Damn thing must have infrared or ultraviolet vision,” she said, gulping down air, breathing heavily, guessing the animal was tracking her so easily because it was able to see in a wider spectrum of light than humans, like an owl, enabling it to track prey at night or through foliage, or as was the case now, through dense fog. If her assumption was correct, her heat signature would be sticking out like a candle in the dark. “That’s why you kept coming back to the plateau, isn’t it? You could see us from miles away, big shining bags of warm meat. Candy on a shelf. I might not be able to see you, but I’m smarter than you. You will not take this girl down, you hear?”
She was about to make a
second dash, to try and return to the bunker when she felt a tightening force squeezing her survival suit.
“Shit, there’s two of you,” she said with disquieting calm, noticing a long toothy beak clamping around her waist from behind.
Her feet were ripped from the ground and she was tossed into the air, suddenly spinning wildly upwards, then falling. Her plummet stopped abruptly and she was now pinned across the shoulders, staring into a pterosaur’s giant amber eye, one arm struggling against its muscular tongue and the other clamped to her side, immoveable in the monster’s jaws.
“PUT ME DOWN! GET OFF ME!” She screamed, struggling, feeling her suit turn ever more rigid as the creature’s grip tightened.
The pterosaur’s eye swivelled and fixed on her, its cat-like pupil shrinking. There was so much menace in the visual connection, to Becca, it conveyed a palpable sense of rage and revenge. It was informing her it didn’t intend on eating her, not right away at least. First it wanted her to suffer. The animal held her tight for a good while, its tongue angrily pressing her struggling free arm against the floor of its mouth. The second pterosaur lumbered out of the mist, snorting deep angry grunts. It lowered its head and glared at Becca, its eye only a few inches away. It opened its jaws and angled them across her face. It closed them slowly, so its teeth were poking her skin with no more force than a gently prodding finger. There it stopped and waited, it’s strong tongue curling around her face, forcefully licking her lips and eyes.
“Do it,” Becca said, gagging at the rank fishy breath. “If you’re gonna do it, just get on with it. Don’t you know it’s rude to play with your food?”
The animal hissed a gargling growl, then withdrew and sprang into the air, its wings clapping loudly. The pterosaur holding Becca followed. Her captors were quickly aloft, twisting and swooping through the lava structures arching over the plateau, adjusting pitch and zipping through gaps between stalactites at incredible speed.
It seemed they understood she wasn’t designed for aerial manoeuvres of this ferocity, that they knew how disoriented she was becoming. Perhaps it was a regular tactic they used to ensure prey was too dizzy to flee after they landed. Once again, the pterosaurs were ascending, wings cracking like thunder. For a moment, as they passed out of the fog, everything became silent and Becca saw glorious blue sky and a perfect golden sun, its rays warm, cotton-bud clouds stretching below.
The glorious sight was only momentary. As they swooped back into the wretched gloom, Becca knew for sure the creatures were torturing her. The manoeuvres that followed exerted such high G-forces her vision began to tunnel, blackening around the edges as blood drained from her brain, filling her arms and legs with pressure. She tensed every muscle across her body and blew out streams of air as they cornered, mimicking the technique fighter pilots used to squeeze blood from their extremities and back into their brains. She couldn’t allow herself to pass out. When they landed, she needed to be ready to fight and run.
High in the sky, the pterosaur suddenly flung her free. Weightlessness took hold and she was falling between the lava arches, wind rushing against her ears. A crunching impact made her think she’d hit rock, but the smell of rotting fish told her otherwise. The creatures were tossing her between themselves like a plaything. The second pterosaur had caught her in such a way she was able to wriggle one arm free. She pressed against its palette and tensed as they banked harshly, her vision blackening once more, the strength in her arms fading.
“Stab it,” she said through pursed lips as they soared upwards. “Use the knife. Dying falling is better than dying as food. Puncture it, do something before they break your damn neck.”
She felt for her waist and touched upon the nylon pouch housing the Leatherman. She popped the clasp and withdrew the multi tool.
“Wait ‘till its low, when it swoops down,” she said through gritted teeth, flicking up the blade with her thumb.
The reptilian birds formed up and cut through the mist, wingtip to wingtip. The pterosaur flying beside her glared and bore its teeth, frothy saliva streaking from the corner of its mouth. Its wings suddenly dipped and it plunged into the swirling whiteness below. The pterosaur holding Becca followed and they were soon zipping above blackened tree stumps and mounds of dark rock.
She seized her chance and began thrusting the Leatherman blade into the soft flesh between the ribs across the animal’s upper palate. The creature shrieked, its wings collapsing. Its rear claws skipped along the ground in giant bounds. The knife became lodged in a patch of bone and Becca desperately tugged, but couldn’t withdraw her arm enough in the tight space to get leverage. The pterosaur skidded on its belly, then tumbled over the edge of what Becca could only guess was the plateau. Blood splashed across her hands, which slipped from the knife.
The Pterosaur spread its wings and righted its downward plummet. It opened its mouth and tried to shake Becca loose, but her left ankle was wedged between its teeth. They only remained airborne for a few more seconds before slamming down and cartwheeling head over heels. Becca gasped, water swirling into her throat. Her face broke the surface of the wetness threatening to engulf her and she coughed and flailed, water seeping down the neck of her survival suit. Beside her, across the water, the pterosaur was shrieking and splashing, its wings sinking ever lower, its bloodied mouth angled upwards, desperate for its last few gasps of air, its last few moments of life. Becca took no pleasure in watching the terrified creature go down.
“Fresh water,” she realized, turning from the drowning animal and swimming, her arms and legs exhausted from the aerial fight. “You must be in the lake. Just go straight. You’ll.. hu… hit the edge…”
Her survival suit was heavy with water and her limbs throbbed painfully when she finally reached the bank. She pulled herself onto the soft mud and collapsed onto her side, winded and spluttering, water leaking from the ankles and wrists of her suit.
A chilling, thunderous crack of wings split the air and two enormous claws pounded the mud beside her. She willed her arms and legs to move, to give one last push, but her energy was spent. She had absolutely nothing left. The pterosaur leaned through the mist, its crooked wing-joint appearing like the Reaper’s staff. It cocked its head from side to side, glaring with each eye and hissing. It placed a front claw on Becca’s chest, then threw back its beak and warbled a triumphant war-cry.
Becca closed her eyes and gave thanks for all the people that had filled her life with light and love. She knew she’d been lucky. She’d had a wonderful life. The deathblow came with roaring swiftness. She only felt wetness across her face, no pain.
Nightfall
T he cries that followed were not Becca’s own. A confetti of noise exploded, tremendous thumps and splashes, mixed with strained grunts and shrieks. A silence descended and Becca peeked through her eyelids. She saw the lake’s inhabitant sarcosuchus, a twelve meter long crocodilian tank of an animal, slinking into the dark water with the half-dead pterosaur straining limply in its jaws. Noticing Becca, the great lizard paused, its inky eyes bulging.
“Woah… thanks, girl,” Becca murmured, remembering her previous encounter with the titan, her chest rising and falling with exhausted relief. “Gl… glad you made it. You will make it too, after the asteroid hits, your distant offspring. You’re one of the t… tough ones, designed to survive. I owe you one, girl.”
The enormous crocodile flared its nostrils and trumpeted a snort, as though agreeing. Opaque fatty membranes slid across its eyes as it slid into the depths, dragging the gasping pterosaur to its doom. A trail of popping bubbles moved out across the water.
“Gotta keep moving, Becks. She’ll come back for you if you stay here. You’re food too. The monorail’s a few miles to the east. Y… you can follow what’s left all the way to starcoms. Just get up, push, not much further, you can make it… by… by nightfall if you hustle. Come on, you’re so close... you gotta move…”
She heaved up onto her knees, her fingers sinking into the mud. The eff
ort seemed so great it felt like her arms might fall off. She transitioned from one knee to a foot and grunted. She’d never felt exhaustion this intense. The month she’d spent in the bunker with no exercise whilst eating junk food had done her body no favors. She’d probably lost a third of her muscle mass. Panting profusely, she paused and reached for the canteen at her waist. She flushed with momentary panic on feeling leaking fluid, which she imagined was blood, but thankfully saw a pterosaur tooth lodged in the metal container from which water was seeping. She unhooked the canteen and drank what remained. She contemplated pulling the tooth free, but decided the unconventional plug was providing a reasonable seal she’d struggle to replicate. It would also serve as a weapon should she need it. Barely refreshed or recovered, she used the compass on the canteen lid to gather her bearings.
“That way,” she said, re-hooking the canteen to her waist and pushing to her feet. “Oaahhr, the agony… Feels like even my pain has pain.”
She staggered into the mist, dreaming of the luxuries she might discover when she reached the starcom facility. She’d only ever seen it from the monorail, with its satellite dish aimed permanently at the sky, becoming covered by creeping mosses and vines. The facility was powered by a nuclear power cell similar to the one buried deep below the Jura base. It consisted of an enclosed armored hyper-alloy casing, inside of which decaying radioactive isotopes perpetually boiled a reservoir of water. The resulting steam span turbines that generated electricity. The steam then cooled and was recycled back through the system.
The cell could happily power the average street of family homes for fifty years before displaying significant degradation of output. They were originally designed to power bases on the moon and Mars, and the Hawking Aragoscope that was headed to the outer reaches of the solar system. It was the first telescope designed to photograph exoplanets orbiting distant stars in high detail, with more clarity than the Hubble telescope could currently image Mars. It had been billed as the answer to the question of whether advanced alien life was out there.
Jurassic Earth Trilogy Box Set Page 25
