by Perrin Briar
The pool of water was crystal clean, the floor visible, like the water on a remote Caribbean island, unblemished. Cassie ran toward it.
“Yes!” she said, dropping to her knees in front of it and preparing to dip her hands in.
“Wait!” Zoe said.
Cassie froze in place, fingertips centimeters above the surface.
“Don’t touch it,” Zoe said.
“Why?” Cassie said. “It’s water.”
“We don’t know what it is,” Zoe said. “It’s a new place, a new system. It could be anything.”
“Then what are we going to do with it?” Cassie said.
“Probably nothing,” Zoe said. “Look. There’s nothing on its surface or inside it.”
“So?” Cassie said. “That just means it’s clean, doesn’t it?”
“So clean nothing living can survive in it,” Zoe said.
“Maybe there just aren’t any fish down here,” Cassie said.
“The oceans are seventy-five percent of the surface of the Earth,” Zoe said. “I’m certain there are fish down here, but not in this pool.”
She snapped off a thin branch and tossed it into the pool. The branch floated. Nothing happened.
“See?” Cassie said. “You’re worrying about nothing.”
Smoke rose from the branch and it began to hiss. The wood cracked and whistled like it was on fire. The leaves shriveled up until they were small and black, disintegrated crisps. Within moments the branch was gone and the pool was perfectly clean again.
They all just stared, aghast.
“What was that?” Bryan said.
“Acid,” Cassie said.
“Cassie, get away from the edge,” Bryan said.
Cassie, body shaking, leaned back on her hands and shuffled away.
“Is there anything in this place that won’t kill us?” Bryan said. “Carnivorous plants, deadly pools of acidic water. No wonder tales of hell exist.”
“The things that are here were never meant to be put together like this,” Zoe said. “Their worlds weren’t meant to mix. They were meant to be separated by millions of years of gradual change, of progress. And now here they are, forced together. It makes for a potent mix. They’re fighting for the right to survive, to reproduce. It’s the Lost World, like Conan Doyle’s famous novel. We’ve stepped back in time. And around every rock there could be danger.”
40
THE TREE BRANCH had floated in the water for the past ten minutes. So far, nothing had happened.
“Looks like it’s safe,” Zoe said.
“Wait,” Bryan said. “Are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be,” Zoe said, taking off her boots. “It’s not like I have my lab here to test it. But it hasn’t disintegrated the tree branch. That’s an improvement over the last lake.”
Zoe put her hands into the water. It was cool and refreshing against her skin. She splashed it over her arms and shoulders. The others stood there watching, like starving men before a banquet.
“Aren’t you going to wash?” Zoe said.
Cassie and Aaron headed a little farther down before entering.
“Don’t go in too deep,” Bryan said.
“I won’t,” Cassie said, rolling her eyes.
Zoe took off her top, wearing just her bra. She washed all the gunk and dirt and sweat off her body. She had never been so grateful for a bath her whole life.
She looked around at the world around them, alert for an attack at any moment. She cupped her hands and briskly washed her face before stopping and peering at her surroundings again.
Bryan sidled up to her.
“I need to speak with you,” he said.
“Aren’t you speaking now?” Zoe said.
“About something important,” Bryan said.
“Can we not talk about this right now?” Zoe said. “We’ve got more important things to focus on.”
“I’m not talking about us,” Bryan said.
“Oh,” Zoe said. “What is it then?”
“I didn’t want to scare you or the kids,” Bryan said under his breath. “But I found something a little while ago and I think you should see it.”
“What is it?” Zoe said.
“It was… It was…” Bryan said, fading out.
He shook his head.
“I have to show you,” he said.
“Can I finish washing first?” Zoe said.
She took her time, scrubbing away the dirt. She was covered in bruises and scrapes that she hadn’t known were there. She could hear the kids splashing, washing themselves just over the rise.
“All right,” Zoe said. “I’m ready. What is it?”
“Here,” Bryan said, leading her a little farther down the waterside.
He knelt down beside a pair of small round holes joined together, with five dots above them. Zoe’s eyes went wide.
“What do you think it is?” Bryan said.
“It’s a footprint,” Zoe said.
“I know that,” Bryan said. “But from what?”
He clearly knew what it was, but didn’t want to admit it.
Zoe peered at it again.
“You’re sure it’s not one of yours?” she said.
“Definitely,” Bryan said. “I never came this far.”
Bryan was right. His footprints led up to the footprint in question and then turned away. But more than that, they didn’t match Bryan’s footprint shape at all. Zoe bent down and put her fingers to it. It was barefoot, broad, but squat. Zoe peered around at the foliage around them with a keener eye, as if something was going to jump out at them at any moment.
“We need to get away from the water,” Zoe said.
“Why?” Bryan said. “What is it? Maybe it’s a chimp?”
“Maybe,” Zoe said, though she didn’t sound convinced. “I’m not a tracker, but I get the sense this creature walks upright, on two feet, though it seems to sway a lot – see the deeper indents on the inner and outer side of the print? He – or she – appears to be comfortable on two feet. And the toes are similar to ours. See? I think it’s either a deformed man or a fairly modern ancestor.”
“Ancestor?” Bryan said.
“Anything, anytime, anywhere,” Zoe said. “Remember?”
The thought he might meet his ancestor made Bryan shiver. He didn’t even like close family gatherings. He looked at the print again and then spotted something else. The footprint had stopped, as if the walker had taken flight. There were other footprints, ones that didn’t head toward the water, but instead away from it, having never approached the body of water in the first place. These footprints were stunted and wide, with long claw marks.
Claw marks. Bryan turned and ran up the rise in the direction of the kids, his heart thumping in his ears.
“Bryan,” Zoe said. “Where are you going?”
Bryan ascended the short rise and looked down at Cassie and Aaron, who had their backs to one another, washing. The reason the human ancestor footprint had suddenly disappeared was because it had been snatched off its feet. At the water’s edge.
Floating no more than three meters from Cassie and Aaron was what looked like a huge floating log, except it wasn’t a log. From his perspective he caught the creature’s profile. He could make out the swish of its thick tail. Its head alone had to be three feet long. The skin over its eyes slid back revealing a cat-like slitted eye. It pressed forward.
41
CASSIE FELT a whole lot better now she was clean and the gunk had been washed off her body. She kept checking over her shoulder to make sure Aaron didn’t look at her. He was either too fast for her to catch or he really was keeping his promise and not glancing at her. She kept checking over her shoulder anyway.
Something came out of the foliage and approached the waterside. It was small, with arms curled up by its side and a pointed snout that it dipped into the water.
“Man, that’s one sick chicken,” Cassie said.
“It’s not a chicken,” Aaron sa
id. “It’s a compsognathus.”
“A what?” Cassie said.
“A compsognathus,” Aaron said. “An ancient reptile.”
“Wonderful,” Cassie said, splashing water over her face. “At least we’ll have something to eat down here.”
“I’m not sure if we should eat it,” Aaron said.
“I’ll eat whatever’s lying around,” Cassie said. “I’m starving.”
“No, you don’t understand,” Aaron said. “We shouldn’t be able to eat it. That’s what I meant to say.”
“Why?” Cassie said. “Are they really fast?”
“No,” Aaron said. “They’re extinct. They’ve been extinct for many, many years.”
Cassie looked back at the little beast.
“Looks plenty alive to me,” she said. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Aaron said. “They died out around the time of the dinosaurs.”
“Dinosaurs?” Cassie said.
“And that’s because it is a dinosaur,” Aaron said.
“A dinosaur?” Cassie said. “It’s a bit on the small side for a dinosaur, isn’t it? I thought they were massive?”
“They’re not all brachiosaurs and diloposauruses,” Aaron said. “Many of them were small like this. How else do you explain how they evolved into birds?”
“They evolved into birds?” Cassie said.
“Some did,” Aaron said. “We should tell our parents. There might be lots of these things out there.”
“No, don’t,” Cassie said. “They’ve got enough to worry about. Plus, I don’t think they could be much safer, do you? They won’t let us do anything by ourselves. Imagine how bad they’ll be if they knew dinosaurs were about.”
“Cass!” Bryan shouted. “Run!”
Cassie sighed.
“See?” she said.
She looked over at her father, standing on a slight rise.
“Why don’t you try not shouting at me?” Cassie said. “I’m not a piece of meat.”
Bryan pumped his arms and legs, making a beeline for them.
“Dad, what-?” Cassie said.
The words stuck in her throat. She caught sight of something in her peripheral vision. Two big yellow eyes in a long broad face. Her blood turned cold and she froze, unable to move. The giant crocodile opened its jaws wide and snapped at the water’s surface.
“Cass!” Aaron said, seeing the giant crocodile.
He slapped the water’s surface, getting the croc’s attention. It turned its heavy head toward him.
“Cass!” Aaron said. “Get out! Get out now!”
Cassie scuttled sideways toward the shore like a crab. Bryan scooped up a handful of rocks and threw them at the large croc, striking it across the head and back. The crocodile hissed and opened its jaws wide in defiance.
But the crocodile was slow to move, and retreated back into the lake, sinking out of sight. Perhaps he had eaten earlier or didn’t want the chase. Whatever the reason, the crocodile turned away.
Bryan grabbed Cassie and Aaron by the arms, dragging them out of the water.
“What did I say?” he said. “Don’t go too far into the water. Isn’t that what I said?”
Cassie nodded, tears streaming down her face from the shock. Bryan hugged her and kissed her on the head, soothing her.
“I’m sorry,” Cassie said.
“It’s okay,” Bryan said. “You’re all right, that’s the important thing.”
He turned to Aaron.
“Thank you,” he said.
Aaron nodded back. Zoe wrapped her arms around him.
“We’re never going to survive here, are we?” Cassie said. Her voice was dead, cold. “One day we’ll wake up and we’ll be in something’s belly.”
Bryan didn’t reply to her, and just hugged her close. They were safe now. That was the important thing. It felt odd being at the bottom of the food chain. Bryan Angelo had never been at the bottom before. It was an unwelcome feeling. He felt vulnerable. And suddenly he was thrust into a world that was out of his control.
He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one little bit.
42
BRYAN LEANED against a tree for fear he might collapse under his own weight. He shut his eyes and took deep breaths. The sweat ran down his face and drenched his T-shirt. The heat in the jungle was humid, close and sticky, like walking into an oven. Bryan took a small bottle out of a side pocket on his backpack.
“What’s that?” Zoe said.
“Anti-mosquito spray,” Bryan said. “I’m hoping the mosquitos down here aren’t too different from ours and this stuff still works. The last thing I need right now is to be bitten to death.”
He sprayed himself liberally with it.
“Give me some,” Zoe said.
“Haven’t you got your own?” Bryan said.
“I do, but it’s in my bag somewhere,” Zoe said.
Bryan handed the bottle over. Zoe raised it to her face. Aaron slapped the bottle out of her hand.
“Hey!” Zoe said.
“Is this the same stuff you’ve been using during the camping trip?” Aaron said to Bryan.
“Yes,” Bryan said. “Why?”
As if in response, a low thrumming noise like helicopter blades grew louder over the dense jungle foliage.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Aaron said.
He tossed the mosquito bottle aside.
“What are you doing?” Bryan said. “I need that!”
“Trust me, you don’t,” Aaron said.
“But mosquitos are attracted to me like flies are to-”
The thrumming shook the ground. A vast dark blanket rose over the jungle canopy. A swarm of mosquitos. And they weren’t just any mosquitos.
“Giant gallinippers,” Aaron said, voice hoarse.
They were over an inch and a half long, notorious for their aggressive behavior and painful bite. And they were heading right for them.
“Oh my God,” Bryan said, the blood draining from his face.
“Run!” Cassie said.
The sky turned black as the mosquitos swarmed overhead, the air vibrating with their powerful wings. The family leapt over a fallen tree trunk and splashed through small puddles. There was a thud, thud, thud as the mosquitos’ stingers embedded themselves into the trees and stony ground at their feet.
Aaron felt the displaced air from a mosquito’s wing right beside his ear. He waved his hand to scare it away, and struck something solid and heavy.
The foliage snapped and broke under their feet as they stormed through it. A body of water reared up ahead, the artificial sunlight from the glow bugs shimmering across its surface.
“The lake!” Bryan shouted. “Jump in the lake!”
“We don’t know if it’s acidic or not!” Zoe said.
“If we don’t jump in and we get stung, we’re dead anyway!” Bryan said.
“Not necessarily,” Zoe said. “Everyone stop!”
They skidded to a stop. Zoe picked up a snapped branch and hurled it into the lake. The branch just floated there.
“Now can we jump in?” Bryan said.
“No,” Zoe said. “Wait a second. It took some time before it reacted last time, remember?”
Bryan picked up a length of wood with a clump of leaves on the end and swung at a cloud of mosquitos. He felt them connect with his make-shift bat. They fell out of the air. Those unaffected continued to fly at him. Zoe brought her own swatter down, knocking a cloud into the ground. They were momentarily dazed before beginning to climb again.
They’d fought for twenty seconds, and yet the sweat dripped down their bodies. They couldn’t fight much longer without getting stung. The main body of the swarm descended upon them now.
Bryan cast a look back at the lake.
“The branch is still in one piece!” he said.
“Jump in!” Zoe shouted.
They all did, the mosquito cloud just above their heads like a personal raincloud. They submerged, waving their ar
ms to keep themselves under. Through the surface they watched a blurry, shimmering sight of hundreds of floating black objects. Some loomed so large they must have hovered mere inches above the surface.
Aaron’s lungs burnt. His heart thumped in his ears, begging for oxygen. He’d run hard and was already short of breath. Beside him on either side he was aware of the others’ hands moving in similar slow-motion movements. But still the mosquitos hung above them. Aaron tried to re-breathe the air he held in his cheeks, to coax more oxygen out of it.
Cassie shook her head, unable to wait any longer, and waved her arms to push up toward the surface. Bryan grabbed her leg and pulled her back down. A mouthful of bubbles floated up to the surface, and half a dozen mosquitos floated toward it, prodding at it with their huge stingers.
Bryan pulled Cassie close, despite her efforts to shake him off. Aaron snuck behind Carrie, grabbed her head, and pushed his lips against hers. Cassie’s eyes went wide. Aaron forced what little air he had left in his body into her lungs. Cassie pulled back. Aaron felt his lips begin to open, desperate for oxygen.
Bryan gestured at their roof. The gallinipper mosquitos were moving away, back into the jungle. Once they were all gone, the family waited an excruciatingly long extra few seconds before they floated up and broke the surface, gasping in the sweet oxygen.
They struggled to the beach on their hands and knees, and collapsed, half their faces staring at one another, the other half hugging the sand. They panted for air. If anything came for them now they would be finished. None had the energy to fight.
43
“I SWEAR,” Cassie said, panting, “if you ever tell anyone what just happened…”
“It wasn’t enjoyable for me either,” Aaron said.
Cassie glared at him. Aaron smirked. Cassie raised a fist, but her muscles were too weak to throw it.
“You should be thanking him for saving your life,” Bryan said, “not threatening him.”
“But he kissed me!” Cassie said.
“He shared his oxygen with you,” Bryan said. “There’s a difference.”
Cassie kicked a clod of dirt and grumbled under her breath.
