Primordia 2: Return to the Lost World

by Greig Beck

  “Like you said,” Drake observed. “The magnetic effects have distorted all our electronics.”

  “It’s beginning,” she breathed, feeling her own heartbeat quicken. “Now, we get to use what we were born with—eyes, ears, any other senses we can call on to help.” Emma straightened. “But I think it’s pretty clear which direction we need to head.”

  In the distance, the cloud was changing, growing, and now looked like a chaotic explosion as a column of cloud swirled like a tornado and now reached high into the atmosphere. Within that dark column, lightning crackled non-stop and forked downward, sideways, and even up into the sky.

  “What the hell is that?” Fergus said, his mouth continuing to hang open.

  “The finger of God,” Juan said. “Reaching down to the earth.”

  “Or maybe, the devil, reaching up from Hell,” Camilla added.

  Juan turned and raised an eyebrow. But Camilla just clung to the small crucifix around her neck and gave him a half-smile. “Don’t mind me.” She turned away.

  The swirling cloud began to spread out, not into the upper atmosphere, but lower like a fog that crept over the land, and at its center, the huge purple column over just one area of the jungle.

  “Well, whether it’s the finger of God or the Devil, it’s pointing the way,” Andy observed.

  “Yup.” Drake lifted binoculars to his eyes. “Don’t like the lightning inside it; not good if we get a strike. But it has a low ceiling, and that’s what we want.” He lowered the glasses. “Provided the wind doesn’t get too high, we’ll need to rise above it soon.”

  “The column won’t last, but the cloud will.” Emma turned. “The wettest season is here. We better get everyone ready.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Once again, Ben had covered himself head to toe in greasy mud. He belly-crawled forward and kept his eyes as slits as he lifted his head over the plateau’s edge.

  At this time in history, the future flat-topped mountain was only just beginning to have the surrounding jungle weathered down around it. Over the millions and millions of years to come, the jungle would sink, while the harder granite would erode more slowly, making it seem to rise like an island into the sky. But now, it was just a slightly raised area in a vast primordial jungle.

  Ben knew there was something different about this raised area. Just like the surrounding jungle, it was home to all manner of creatures, hunters and the hunted. But it was also home to something that was vastly more deadly than any two-legged, razor-toothed theropod.

  He glanced up through the trees and saw the thick cloud swirling above him. It’s started, he thought, as a thrill of excitement and impatience ran through him.

  The cloud was also starting to drop, creating a misted atmosphere on the plateau, and though slightly cooler, it was still dripping with humidity. He also knew that at its center, the cloudbank would break and rise. But right now, as the comet, Primordia, approached, everything was thrown into chaos—the atmosphere, the weather, the magnetic orientation of the Earth, and even time and space, as a portal or doorway to another reality was opened.

  For Ben, that doorway would be to the future, his home. And in that future, the reality was a pathway to right here and now. The plateau itself was only a few square miles. The surface of that tiny landmass was thrown forward or the future backward, but only for a little over 24 hours. And at the end of that period, when the comet pulled away and the time distortion ended, the two realities went back to being ordered once again. And anything left behind on the plateau would find itself back here, just like he did.

  He moved his head slowly, no fast movements, scanning the undergrowth before him. He let his eyes move over the dense jungle, the broad and fleshy leaves and bulbous hanging fruits. There were the tangling vines, some with hooked barbs that tore at the flesh, cycads, and tongue-like ferns. There were massive trees that climbed into the clouds, some recognizable as being primitive pines, ginkgos, and redwoods. Many had fungi, like flatbread growing out from their trunks, and their lower branches had what looked like strings of green pearls hanging from them.

  There were also trees he was now familiar with but had no idea what names to call them. The ones with bark-like course hair, or plated scales, or even a surface that looked like popped rice.

  He was horribly familiar with all of them, but he was still as much an alien in this world, as if he had crashed here in a spacecraft from another planet. Tiny, soft little human beings didn’t belong here, and when their time came to rule, it would only be because the land giants had all departed into a fossilized history.

  Ben licked dry lips. He knew time was his enemy now. If Emma was coming, he needed to find her quickly. But where would she be? She was a climber, so the odds were she would be coming up over the cliff edge, somewhere. And from there, he’d have to make some educated guesses, and try and get in her head and think like her.

  Perhaps she might decide that a good place to start was somewhere they both knew—the site of their first entry. It was a familiar place and somewhere they could rendezvous. If there was a chance she was there, then that’s where I’ll be too, he thought.

  It was all he had, but he couldn’t help the excitement creeping back into his gut.

  Ben crept up over the rim, and then scuttled in amongst the fern stems. Slow down—no fast movements—stop and look—he had a long way to go, but he couldn’t afford to let impatience cloud his judgement.

  Right now, a sixth sense made the back of his neck tingle, and he paused and hunkered down. A twig snapped behind him.

  Ben spun; spear up, just as the hunter landed on his chest, crushing him flat.

  The seven-foot-tall theropod had warty, pebbled skin, small eyes, and a large boxy head. It also weighed as much as a linebacker and hissed like a steam train as its dagger-like claws penetrated his flesh.

  Ben felt the weight pushing the air from his lungs—one three-toed foot was on his chest, the other on his shoulder where the scythe-like daggers on its feet penetrated his flesh. He began to panic, as he knew that this would be the scout, and others of the pack would soon follow.

  He stabbed upward with his spear, using his last reserves of energy. The spear dug into the creature’s shoulder, but not deep enough. The hunter reached down, grabbed at it with its rows of serrated teeth, and bit right through the pole, cutting it in two. The old blade fell to the mud.

  Ben had nothing left.

  I was so close, he thought. Sorry, Emma.

  CHAPTER 24

  Full Comet Apparition

  Comet P/2018-YG874, designate name, Primordia, was now at its perihelion or maximum observable focus as it had now reached its closest point to Earth.

  The magnetic distortion had also reached its peak, but now the field generated a form of stability. The hurricane-like winds that had been roaring above the top of the plateau ceased, and the boiling clouds dropped to become a mist that moved through a primordial forest.

  Torrential rain fell on the surrounding jungle, but now on the plateau top it first eased to a warm rain, then stopped, and at its center, sunlight broke through.

  The season of Primordia had begun.

  CHAPTER 25

  “Hang on.” Drake grabbed the edge of the basket and planted his legs as the balloon swung in the furious wind.

  Camilla screamed and Andy threw an arm around Helen to hold her in place. Emma gritted her teeth and turned. “Drake?”

  “I know.” The big man nodded. “Gonna try and rise above it.”

  The clouds had thickened and visibility was down to around 50 feet. In addition, below and above them there was nothing. The danger now was that with the wind becoming stronger, and therefore the balloon accelerating in the air, flying blind was suicide. For all any of them knew, the plateau edge was right in front of them, and at the speed they traveled, if they collided with it, they’d either be tossed out or snagged up on a rock face.

  Drake yelled at Fergus to give them some more burn, and t
he redheaded Special Forces soldier cranked up the propane gas burners to produce a strong jet of near colorless fire that increased the fill of the bag. In seconds, he felt them start to rise.

  The balloon swung again, and he saw Emma’s fingers dig into the wicker railings. The commercial balloons were great fun in less than five-mile-per-hour winds, exhilarating in five to six, but once you got over ten, they became damned dangerous.

  Drake knew sensible people didn’t usually go up in anything above eight. He also knew that sensible people didn’t try and balloon into a prehistoric world in the middle of a cyclone.

  “Fergus, more burn!” Drake yelled.

  “You got it.” Fergus shot another drought of hot air into the canopy, and their rise began to accelerate.

  “Ease up,” Drake called, and Fergus slowed the rate of hot air delivery. He kept his eyes on Drake, his hands on the controls. Brocke and Ajax also watched, their hands on the flap ropes, waiting for orders to tug on one or the other. But for now, they lifted, and also sailed ever northeastward—toward, he hoped, what was the top of the plateau.

  The wind eased a little, but they were still trapped inside a murky whiteout. Drake bared his teeth, feeling his patience run out. “No instruments, so don’t know if we’re at two hundred or two thousand feet. Hard to judge rate of climb without landmarks.” He scoffed. “We could be right up against the cliff edge and not even know it.”

  “Quiet!” Andy hissed.

  “Huh?” Emma turned.

  The young paleontologist held a hand up to them. “Just…quiet. Listen.”

  He and Helen were leaning far out over the side of the basket, their heads turned. Inside, everyone was frozen now, listening.

  Then they heard it.

  “What the hell is that?” Ajax’s brows snapped together.

  Camilla nudged Juan, who lifted his telephoto camera and held it ready.

  The sound came again—a scream, or maybe a screech. No one was able to identify it, and even Helen and Andy just looked at each other, confusion creasing their features.

  Emma leaned far out of the basket, her head turning one way then the other. She spun, her face a mix of both relief and worry.

  “Follow it,” she yelled. “It’s coming from the plateau top.”

  Drake pointed. “That way; Brocke, give me some starboard vent, in 3, 2, 1…now.”

  The man pulled on a cord, and gas vented from the opposite side of the balloon. Fergus needed to give the burner some juice to compensate for the loss of hot air, and the balloon moved sideways toward the sound of the screams.

  The cry came again, but this time so close it made everyone cringe back in the basket.

  “I do not like this,” Juan mumbled and crossed himself.

  “Me either.” Ajax pulled his rifle from over his shoulder and held it ready.

  “Hold fire.” Drake had his hand up. He cocked his head as he concentrated on tracking something.

  “There’s something out there,” he said, and closed his eyes to concentrate.

  Out in the mist, something flapped; big, heavy and leathery sounding. And it was close by.

  “Oh shit.” Emma turned. “Quick! Get us up, get us up!”

  “What the hell?” Ajax pointed his gun, but there was nothing to sight on. “Can’t see shit.”

  Drake drew his handgun and listened, trying to get his bearings. Out in the murkiness, something that sounded like a sail flapping in a strong breeze continued. It came from one side, then the other—it sounded like it was circling them.

  “Fuck this,” he said. “Let’s get above this crap. Fergus, take us up a few hundred more feet—give me a ten-second burn…now.”

  The redheaded man twisted a knob and pushed a lever forward to the max on the burner, expressing a flame and jet of hot air. The basket immediately grew heavy beneath their feet as they shot upward.

  Whatever was out there flapped again, and this time it was so close that it threw a massive shadow over them. Camilla shrieked and backed away, bumping into Fergus who elbowed her aside so he could concentrate on his job and watch Drake for instructions.

  “Eyes out, boys.” Drake held his gun loosely, and Brocke and Ajax did the same, the barrels pointed out into the swirling cloud beyond the edge of their basket.

  “What are they?” Juan asked.

  Drake shook his head. “Dunno; but they’re big whatever they are.”

  Helen’s eyes were on Emma, and she pointed. “You know, don’t you?” The woman tilted her head. “Are they what I think they are?”

  Emma had her own gun drawn and turned to look out into the impenetrable cloud. “We never got close to them. But we saw them in the skies. Pterosaurs.”

  “Terror-what?” Ajax yelled back, his lips curled.

  “Flying dinosaurs,” Andy replied. “Well, flying reptiles actu—”

  “They can fucking fly?” Ajax just shook his head, and everyone turned back to the cloud.

  “Why does the cloud suddenly seem creepier now I know that?” Brocke said, chuckling nervously.

  “How big are they? Will they attack us?” Drake asked, trying to see through the billowing mist.

  “They were undoubtedly territorial,” Andy replied. “And some of them were very big.”

  “Bigger than a condor or albatross?” Brocke asked.

  “Well, the sea-going albatross has the largest wingspan of any living bird today,” Andy began. “They can spread wings up to twelve feet, tip to tip. But they usually only weigh in at under twenty six pounds.”

  Helen turned. “But there were species of pterosaur that were literally flying giants. They weighed in at seven hundred pounds, and one of them, the Arambourgiania, had a wingspan of over forty feet, and on the ground would have stood taller than a giraffe.”

  “Okay, so big then,” Brocke stated, nodding.

  “Good. ‘Cause, the bigger they are, the bigger the target.” Ajax grinned cruelly.

  And the bigger they are, the more damage they can do to the balloon, Drake thought. He spoke over his shoulder. “Fergus, give me another ten-second blast. I don’t want one of those flying giraffes crashing into us.”

  It was too late. An enormous shadow came out of the swirling mist and materialized as a leathery vision from hell. It hit the side of the basket and clung there like an obscene bat. A massive wedge-shaped head, furious red eyes, and a beak three feet long lined with backward-pointing teeth lunged inside.

  Screams, yells, and the screeching of something from Earth’s dawn caused a chaotic panic in the crowded basket.

  It’s a man in a Halloween mask, Drake thought insanely. For the first time in decades, he felt the electric jolt of pure fear run through him. It looked like a giant man in a leathery suit and weird ugly mask that was clinging to the side of their basket. And the bastard must have been heavy as it dragged down one of their sides.

  “Out of the way!” Drake yelled as he ducked and weaved, gun up, trying to take a shot.

  Juan screamed as the beak opened and snapped shut on his arm, and then tugged. His feet came off the ground, and Brocke dived and grabbed one of his ankles. Emma did the same to the other leg and a tug of war ensued for a few seconds.

  “Hit the deck,” Drake yelled.

  Camilla, Helen, and Andy dove to the floor, and gunfire rang out as Ajax, Brocke, and Drake poured dozens of rounds into the thing. Blood spurted, the screech turned to a scream of pain as the massive creature let go, and Juan fell back to the floor of the basket, wailing and gripping a torn arm.

  Emma jumped up and peered over the side in time to see the huge body fall away in the swirling cloud.

  “Jesus Christ,” Fergus yelled. “A fucking monster.”

  Drake still had his gun pointed out at the boiling fog as more huge shadows began to loom.

  “Fergus, get us out of here, now.”

  Fergus pulled hard on the throttle lever, and gas jetted out like a dragon’s roar. The balloon jerked upward so fast it made the group
hunker down to maintain their balance.

  Emma gripped one of the ropes to stay upright and also had her M4 carbine under her arm and her legs braced. Between Drake, herself, Brocke, and Ajax, they had all four quadrants covered, and in another few moments, the looming shadows were left behind.

  “I see sky,” Fergus yelled.

  “Thank the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,” Camilla stammered.

  Emma saw she was holding a cloth against Juan’s arm that was already stained scarlet. Her lips moved in silent prayer.

  “Let me help.” Helen scooted over and peeled it back. “Okay.” She pulled out the first-aid kit.

  Emma knelt beside her. “Bad?” She saw underneath the man was a growing stain of dark blood on the basket’s wicker flooring.

  “Gonna need stitches, and…” she rummaged, “…yes, we have a needle and thread in the kit.”

  Helen went back to feeling up and down the lacerated arm. “Doesn’t feel like a break, so that’s a good thing. Hold your breath.” She liberally poured iodine onto a cloth and wiped it over the gashes.

  Juan grimaced and sucked in a breath.

  “Can you move your fingers?” Helen asked.

  The cameraman wiggled all five and nodded. “Yes.”

  “That’s good; also means there’s probably no tendon damage.” She held a cloth on the wound and lunged forward to grab Camilla’s hand.

  “Here, keep your hand pressed down here.” Once again, she rummaged through the kit. “Damn, no morphine, so…”

  She held out three oxycodone to Juan. “Take these. I’m going to have to stitch it and wrap it tight. You’re losing too much blood.”

  “Yes, please, go ahead.” He threw down the tablets dry and swallowed several times to force them down. Juan then tugged the remains of his now tattered and very red sleeve up as high as he could manage.

  Helen expertly threaded a needle with nylon twine, and then eased Camilla’s hand away. She squeezed the folds of ripped flesh together, pushed the needle right through, and then began to sew, pulling the ragged lips of the wound tightly closed as she went.