by Mark Robson
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
‘Good news, Sam,’ Brad announced excitedly as he burst in through the front door. ‘I’ve spoken with Nipper and he’s agreed to come with us.’
Sam looked around, surprised. ‘Us?’ he replied. ‘You’re planning to come as well?’
‘Yeah, well . . .’ Brad paused and shrugged. ‘You boys’ll need someone responsible along if you’re gonna stay out of trouble. Besides, you’ll stand a better chance of finding your ma if you go with someone who can speak the language.’
A warm rush of gratitude flushed through Sam. He glanced across at Callum who looked as relieved as Sam felt. ‘That’s brilliant news, Brad!’ Sam replied with genuine enthusiasm. ‘I don’t know how to thank you.’
‘Then don’t,’ he said. ‘Just make sure you do as you’re told. Before we go, there are some things you should know about the raptor Imperium.’
‘What sort of things?’
‘Well for one, the leaders of raptor society don’t take kindly to any form of disrespect.’
‘I can understand that,’ Sam said. ‘My head teacher has a similar mentality.’
‘No,’ Brad said firmly. ‘I doubt he has. The Imperium won’t give you lines or detention if you misbehave. You’re more likely to find yourself being impaled on a huge spike in the equivalent of the local town square.’
‘Ouch!’
‘I guess you could say that the raptors live in a form of communism,’ he continued. ‘The majority of their society embraces the most attractive elements of the ideals that communism supposedly encourages. In many rural areas they work together, supporting one another and sharing resources more completely than I’ve ever heard of in human societies. Unfortunately, as with most forms of society and government, those who sit in the highest positions of responsibility are prone to corruption. The eight raptors who form the High Council of the Imperium are the worst. They control the media, the scientists, the raptor equivalent of law enforcement . . . everything.’
‘And we’re going into their home turf,’ Sam said.
‘That’s right.’
‘And Leah? Is she coming as well?’
‘Am I coming where?’ Leah asked, entering the living area from the couple’s bedroom.
‘Ah! Um, yes, dear. I was just gonna talk to you about that,’ Brad spluttered. ‘I’m . . . er . . . gonna take a trip with the boys for a few days. You’ll be OK here, won’t you?’
‘Sounds like I’m gonna have to be,’ she said reproachfully. ‘Where’re you goin’ ?
‘The City of the Imperium.’
‘The Imperium! Are you crazy?’
‘Not at all, honey,’ Brad said quickly. ‘We’re gonna try to find Sam’s mom. Don’t worry. Nipper’s comin’ with us to play escort. I wouldn’t consider it otherwise.’
‘Well . . .’ Leah replied slowly. ‘If Nipper’s agreed to go, I suppose it should be OK. So long as you promise to stick close by him. Just remember that Nipper can’t keep you safe if you wander off. There’s a lot of raptors out there who would gut you as soon as look at you. You know the superstitions, Brad.’
‘Yes and they’re total trash.’
‘Of course they are,’ Leah agreed. ‘But some raptors don’t see it that way.’
‘What superstitions, Leah?’ Sam asked.
Leah looked him in the eyes. ‘There’s some raptors as believe that humans bring bad luck,’ she said, her eyes deadly serious. ‘They blame us for most of the problems in this world. Normally, I’d be quick to believe human meddlin’ had upset the natural balance of a place. As a race, we don’t exactly have a great track record, but this time I’m not so sure. It seems that the raptors’ problems are more likely of their own making.’
‘What sort of problems?’ Callum asked.
Leah looked at Brad, who nodded.
‘Well, the weather for a start,’ she said.
‘The weather?’ Sam exclaimed. He let out a laugh. ‘You’re kidding, right?’
‘Not at all,’ Brad confirmed. ‘Humans started arriving about the same time as the first severe magnetic storms began. Seems their weather systems here have undergone changes over the past couple of centuries that make El Niño look like a storm in a teacup.’
‘Could the storms be something to do with the global warming in our world?’ Callum asked.
‘I don’t see how,’ Leah replied, shaking her head. ‘But then I’m no meteorologist. Who knows what’s possible?’
‘So we get the blame for some bad weather. Is that it?’
‘No, there’s more. Lots more.’
‘Like what?’ Callum asked.
‘Volcanoes, an increase in raptor mutation rates, unusual behaviour in farm stock, brittle claws, lost teeth . . . just about anythin’ and everythin’ bad really,’ Brad answered. ‘You could equate it to the witch-hunts around Europe in the Middle Ages. It’s all nonsense, but a surprisin’ly large number of the raptor population believe in the superstitions. Seems strange to me for such an advanced species to believe in such nonsense.’
‘And unfortunately, a raptor’s imagination is no laughing matter when it turns to paranoia,’ Leah added. ‘That’s why most of us choose to live in the Reserve. Here we’re protected by raptors who don’t believe the ridiculous superstitions that surround us.’
‘There is another theory though,’ Brad said, furtively looking over his shoulder and lowering his voice. ‘It’s been circulating around the human population here for some years, but the raptors refuse to accept it.’
‘What sort of theory?’ Sam prompted.
‘Well, like we told you before, the raptors have been using nuclear power for a very long time – about 800 years or more, if the information we’ve been given is accurate. In that time they have created billions of tons of nuclear waste.’
‘You learned this from Nipper?’
‘No. We heard it from humans who’ve worked alongside raptor scientists,’ Brad explained.
‘OK, even assuming for a moment that was true, radioactive materials wouldn’t cause all the things you mentioned,’ Callum said quickly. ‘We learned about radioactive isotopes in physics and chemistry. They can’t affect the weather.’
‘You’re right, Callum,’ Brad replied, nodding, ‘but it’s not the nuclear waste itself, it’s what they’ve done with it all that we think is causing all the problems. According to the rumours, some centuries ago a particularly clever raptor scientist devised a way of both disposing of the waste while simultaneously creating a cleaner source of energy that would benefit future generations into the foreseeable future. He initiated a programme of pumping the radioactive materials into the Earth’s core.’
‘Nice home for it,’ Sam said, nodding. ‘But how did that create a new source of energy?’
‘Over time they pumped enormous quantities into the magma to be burned up,’ Brad continued. ‘The Earth works a bit like a dynamo with the friction of the magma against the iron core creating the Earth’s magnetic field. The burning process heated the magma, causing it to liquefy more and flow faster around the Earth’s iron core. Gradually, this made the field stronger. The raptor scientist invented methods of harnessing the increased magnetic field and converting the inherent energy there into electricity. They’ve been refining the techniques and technology ever since.’
‘Blimey!’ Callum exclaimed. ‘That’s genius!’
‘Yes,’ Brad agreed. ‘But there are those of us here who believe that it’s the side-effects of what they’ve done that’s causing all the problems. Think about it: heat the magma and it expands. Suddenly, you have increased volcanic activity all over the world.’
‘The smell of sulphur!’ Sam exclaimed. ‘Remember, Callum. I could smell it even before we crossed.’
Brad nodded. ‘The combination of the changing magnetic field and the increased vulcanism could be messing with the global weather patterns. And one of the side-effects of the strongest magnetic storms seems to be the rifts between this wor
ld and ours. When they are really powerful, the eye of the storm creates a crossing point between dimensions. From what we’ve learned from careful questioning, this region, and another off the coast of what would be Japan in our world, get the worst of the storms, and these areas correspond with the Bermuda and Dragon’s Triangles. What’s more, the storms have been getting steadily more frequent, particularly during the last century. The effect is accelerating out of control. Mention this to a raptor though, and you’re likely to make him angry. Making raptors angry is not a good idea.’
‘I can see that,’ Sam observed. ‘So when people cross into this world through the rifts created by the storms, they end up here in the Reserve? What about people who don’t want to stay?’
‘Some try to ignore the prejudices and work with the raptors on scientific projects. But there are others who attempt to get home; most die trying,’ Brad said, his voice flat and emotionless.
‘How can you be so sure that they die?’ Callum asked, his voice rising. ‘I’m sorry, but I refuse to accept there is no way back. Cool though this place is, with the dinosaurs and everything, I’m not spending the rest of my life here. Surely, if we can get to the eye of one of those storms, we could cross back the other way.’
‘You think we wanted to stay, kiddo?’ Brad snapped. ‘Believe me, if I thought there was a gen-u-ine shot at getting home, then I’d be first in line to try it. Despite the bucket load of obvious dangers, some have travelled this world their entire lives searchin’ for a gateway home. Eventually, one way or another, they all fall foul of somethin’. One of the main problems is that the effect only seems to happen over water – don’t ask me why. There’s just no boats here that’ll stay afloat long enough to get to the eye of a storm.’
‘What about one of the floating islands you told us about?’ Sam asked.
‘Ha! The raptors don’t bring those anywhere near the Triangle. They only take them across the ocean along routes where the weather is less severe.’
Sam glanced at his friend. Callum looked thoughtful. Sam could almost see the cogs in Callum’s brain whirring. He would think about what he had been told, gather evidence from as many sources as he could and then he would work on the problem alone. Once he set his mind to solving something, Callum was the sort of person who examined every angle until he found a way to the answer he wanted.
I ought to be siding with him, Sam thought. He’s my best friend and he deserves my support. He’s also right – we should be looking for ways to get back. But if there’s a chance I can find Mum first . . .
He did not dare to finish the thought. If Sam could find his mother and take her home, then his family would be complete again. A thrill ran through him at the thought of it. Life could finally move forward again, rather than remaining forever anchored to that terrible day nine years ago when his mum had vanished without trace. Now that he knew she had been seen here, if he returned home without trying to find her, he would never forgive himself.
Later that afternoon Sam followed Brad outside, eager to get their journey under way. Nipper and a second raptor were waiting for them.
‘They’re wearing clothes!’ Callum whispered to Sam.
‘Perhaps it’s the convention at the Imperium,’ Sam replied softly, noting the drab brown garments that now covered the raptors’ loins and upper body. There was nothing stylish about them. The cloth hung round their bodies looking both out of place and uncomfortable.
‘Ssss’amm,’ Nipper said, pointing a wickedly curved middle claw.
Sam’s eyes went wide. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s my name.’
‘K’umm,’ Nipper continued, moving the claw to point at Callum.
‘Close enough,’ Callum acknowledged. He adjusted his glasses up his nose before glancing first at Sam and then nodding at Nipper. The raptor repeated the nod before pointing at the second raptor and making an explosive, rolling huff noise in the depths of his throat.
‘Just call him Grunt, boys,’ Brad chuckled. ‘It’ll save you gettin’ sore throats.’
Nipper gestured for the boys to follow him. They exchanged a final look of amazement and then stepped out after him. Brad followed close behind, with Grunt bringing up the rear. Leah followed the group to the edge of the trees. The boys turned to say goodbye.
‘Good luck, boys,’ she said, wiping a tear from her cheek. ‘Stay with Nipper and keep safe.’
‘Bye, Leah!’ the boys chorused back.
‘Thanks for everything,’ Callum added.
Brad drew Leah into a tight hug and kissed her, first on the top of her head and then on the lips. Their embrace lasted some time, but at last he pulled away.
‘Gotta go,’ he said.
‘Be careful, love,’ Leah told him, blinking hard as she tried to stop more tears from welling. There was no mistaking her worried look.
‘I will,’ he assured her. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
Nipper pushed into the dense greenery underneath the trees and the boys followed. A few steps and the dense jungle closed around them. Leah and the house disappeared. Sam looked back at Brad and the older man gave him an encouraging smile. Sam envied him his relaxed attitude. It was hard to imagine ever being able to relax in this environment. There were too many unknowns: too many dangers.
Nipper pushed through the undergrowth with ease. But following him was not so easy for the humans. To Sam, the forest was more reminiscent of the African or Amazonian equatorial jungles he’d seen featured on the Discovery Channel wildlife programmes than anything he would have expected to find in Florida. Huge broad-leaf plants and enormous shiny-leaved ferns limited forward visibility between the trees to no more than a metre or two.
Looking up, the dense canopy was many metres above, capping long, relatively spindly tree trunks that stretched up like so many gigantic spears. All around him the air was alive with birdsong and the whining of insects, but if any of the cacophony of sounds were being made by other animals, Sam could not tell them apart. If he had been alone, he would have trodden carefully, wary of the possibility of snakes. Following Nipper, however, all he could do was blindly push forward and hope.
Unlike the stink of rotting vegetation in the mangrove swamps of Florida, the air in this jungle smelt green with life. Sam breathed it in through his nose, trying to separate out the scents, but it was an impossibly complex blend that changed with almost every step. The only constant he could identify was the background hint of sulphur, which seemed to permeate everything in this world.
Branches of bushes and trees whipped back at Sam as the raptor moved forward with no apparent regard for his immediate follower. Sam had no doubt that the raptor could move much faster if he had a mind to, but as the fourth and fifth branches swished back at him in quick succession, he realised this journey was going to be anything but easy. Twisting, ducking and constantly tense, he gritted his teeth and did his best to keep up.
It was hard to tell exactly how long they walked. When they emerged from the trees, Sam was scratched, sweating and sore in several places from having sustained particularly fierce whipping impacts. He guessed they had spent about two hours trekking through the jungle. He had learned quickly to keep his head and eyes down and it took a few moments after entering the clearing before he could bring himself to look around.
‘Wow!’ he breathed when he lifted his eyes.
He turned to his friend. Callum’s jaw was hanging slack with amazement. The gigantic structure in front of them was like nothing Sam had ever seen before. Its many-faceted exterior reflected light in all directions rather like a gigantic distorted version of the mirror ball that had been hung for their school disco. It was impossible to imagine a human architect ever designing such a seemingly unnatural, amorphous-looking shape, but what left Sam’s mind reeling was not the shape of the strange structure. It was the dazzling effect of the myriad reflective surfaces.
‘Welcome to the local train station, boys,’ Brad laughed. ‘Impressive, isn’t it?’
>
‘You could say that,’ Sam choked, barely able to speak.
‘Wait until you see inside. Grunt tells me there should be a train arriving any time now.’
Nipper turned and uttered a slow sequence of clicks, grumbles and guttural tocks to Brad before firing a much faster sequence of clicking, growling noises at Grunt, who in turn raised his head and gave a strangely restrained roar by way of response.
‘What was that all about, I wonder?’ muttered Callum. ‘That noise Grunt made reminded me of Chewbacca from Star Wars.’
‘I don’t know,’ Sam replied softly. ‘And I have the distinct feeling that it would be better if we didn’t ask.’
Nipper led the way again, stepping out with such long strides that the boys and Brad had to jog to keep up. The raptor did not look back to check on them. He seemed preoccupied with getting into the building. They went left along the outside wall, but the boys could see no obvious point of entry. The irregular-shaped panel Nipper led them to looked no different from any of the others around the building, save for a wide network of well-trodden paths across the ground that all converged towards it. There was no sign of an entry mechanism that Sam could see, but as Nipper approached the panel, it slid diagonally up and left into a hidden sheath within the skin of the building. He moved forward until he was standing in the opening, then he turned and beckoned the rest of the party through.
‘Cool!’ Callum muttered. ‘I wonder what sort of sensors it uses. What do you think, Sam? Movement? Weight?’
‘They’re DNA scanners,’ Brad explained, picking up on their conversation. ‘Raptors don’t want unwanted species entering the station. That’s why Nipper is standing in the doorway. If we were to try to enter without him standing there, the door would slam shut instantly.’
‘And I bet that you wouldn’t want to be underneath that door if it came down,’ Callum added.
‘Not a good idea,’ Brad confirmed. ‘It wouldn’t make your day.’
