Hell Pig (Dawn of Mammals Book 3)

by Lou Cadle

  They walked for another few dozen steps, and then Bob stopped, and fell to his knees. “I can’t,” he managed to say. “Go on.” And then he collapsed on his side, curled up, his hand on his chest.

  “Mr. O’Brien!” Jodi said, and got down beside him. “Are you okay?”

  Hannah didn’t think he was. If he’d had a heart attack before, this might be another. “Nari, tend to Mr. O’Brien,” she said. The girl wouldn’t be very helpful in a fight anyway, so Hannah gave her something useful to do. Hannah stripped off her pack and set it down by Bob. “There’s one aspirin left in the first-aid kit,” she said to Nari. “You need to chew it a bit, then stick it in his mouth. Make sure he swallows it all.”

  Nearly as pale as Bob, Nari nodded and began to dig through Hannah’s pack.

  “The rest of us,” Hannah said, “We should retrace our steps, and make a stand away from these two.”

  “Right,” Jodi said, getting to her feet. “We need to protect Mr. O’Brien.”

  The two youngsters stripped off their packs, Garreth’s old pack and a new basket pack and left them with Bob and Nari. “I’m ready,” said Zach.

  “Me too,” Jodi said. She swung her club in a single rotation and then gripped it solidly. “I’ll make him sorry he’s messing with us.”

  “And I’ll help this time,” said Zach.

  “Let’s go,” Hannah said, and she marched back the way they had come. She could hear Nari saying something soothing to Bob, but she was focused ahead and didn’t register what. She held a hand up to stop Zach and Jodi and ran up the few steps that allowed her to see over the hill. The hell pig was still trailing them, following their footsteps exactly. In the distance, the other animals were still around the area of their kill.

  Zach came to her side and crouched down.

  Jodi, behind, said, “I’m coming up too.”

  “No,” Hannah said at the same time as Zach. “We’re coming down,” she said. “There’s nothing important to see. But there is only one of them coming after us.”

  “We can take one, can’t we?” Jodi said.

  “Better than we can take all five,” Hannah said.

  “Maybe we should be aggressive about it,” Zach said. “Go at it, and it might turn. Without its buddies, it might be more skittish.”

  Hannah wouldn’t feel skittish at all if she were the animal, as it still outweighed the three of them added together. But maybe he was right. Better to confront the animal, better to surprise it, than let it dictate the terms of their encounter.

  Jodi said, “Let’s start with the rocks. Maybe we can convince it we’re not worth the trouble.”

  “Good plan,” Hannah said. “Let’s get closer to it, right now.” She sprinted for the spot where they had come over the hill, hoping to beat the predator to it. Jodi and Zach ran after her, their legs kicking through the tall grass with a rhythmic rustle.

  They beat the animal to the hill’s crest, but not by much. It was only a stone’s throw from them, which was a good news-bad news situation. It was so close, it was a real danger, just a quick charge away from them. But they did have their stones, and they began to throw them at the long muzzle, still bloodstained from its recent meal.

  The hell pig chuffed and twitched its head as one of the bigger stones smacked it right between the eyes. The clunk of the stone bouncing off the bony protuberance there lifted her spirits briefly.

  But then the hell pig continued toward them. It didn’t hurry. It moved like it had all the time in the world.

  “I have an idea!” Zach said. “Let’s do this.” He began marching in place, stomping the ground hard. “All together. Side by side. Make it think we’re a six-legged creature.”

  Jodi slid into place beside him and joined his march.

  What the hell, Hannah thought, and lined up by Jodi, marching in place.

  As her left foot hit the ground, Zach yelled, “Hah!” The next time her left foot came down, Hannah repeated the cry, lowering her voice to a deep pitch. Jodi did the same, and she shook her club overhead in rhythm to their footfalls.

  The animal paused, looking up at them. Hannah thought it might be more confused—or amused, if it had a sense of humor—than intimidated, but it did stop.

  And that gave all three of them heart, and they stomped and yelled with more power.

  The hell pig continued to stand and stare stupidly at them.

  What is it thinking? Hannah hoped it was reconsidering its actions, thinking about rejoining its clan, thinking that this six legged noisy creature wasn’t worth the trouble.

  Behind her, she heard Ted’s whoop as he came running up. She glanced to her right and saw the rest of them, strung out in a line behind Ted, coming to help. All except Laina, who had detoured toward Bob.

  Without pause, Ted came tearing over the crest of the hill and angled straight at the hell pig, which turned to look that way, at the fast-moving creature.

  “Forward!” yelled Zach, and he kept the rhythm but turned the march into a drive for the predator. It looked at them, it looked back at Ted, and it turned around. “Charge!” said Zach, and he ran, too, Jodi just behind him.

  Hannah was a half-step behind, but she caught up to them, driven by the force of worry over one of them getting hurt. “Stay back, Ted!” she screamed. “Don’t get too close!”

  But the hell pig had decided they were dangerous enough—or weird enough—that it wanted no part of them, and it broke into a trot. With four legs and the mass of the animal helping drive it down hill, it stayed ahead of even Ted.

  “Stop, Ted!” she yelled. “Get back here! Please!”

  He was obviously reluctant to give up the chase, but he did slow, and then stop. He jogged back up to intercept them.

  “Thank you,” Hannah said. “I don’t think we need to go any farther. It’s still running.”

  Rex and Dixie ran up then. “You scared it away?” Rex said.

  “Seems so,” Ted said, grinning. “Kind of fun.”

  Jodi said, “Mr. O’Brien,” and she turned and ran for the teacher.

  “What about him?” Dixie said.

  “I think he’s had another heart attack,” Hannah said. “The rest of you hang out here for a minute, make sure that animal is still moving away, okay?” Then she turned and ran for the spot where Bob lay, too.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, as she came up. He was nearly white as cotton, and he was wheezing.

  “You gave him the aspirin?” she asked Nari.

  Nari nodded, looking frightened.

  “Good,” she said, patting the girl on the shoulder. “Bob, is it worse than last time?”

  “Yeah,” he managed to say.

  “Lie back, all the way.” She dug in her pack for the Mylar blankets. “Cover him up,” she said to Jodi, handing the blankets to her.

  Laina said, “We’re going to miss the time gate.”

  “Then we’ll miss it,” said Hannah. “We have berries and water here. We’ll live. So we’ll catch it next month, is all.”

  “I want to go see it,” Laina said. “I can learn something from it, even if I—we—don’t use it.”

  “You can’t go alone.”

  Bob grabbed her arm. “You go, too,” he said. “Watch her.”

  “I need to stay here with you,” she said.

  “Can’t do anything,” he managed. Then he had to stop and catch his breath.

  Jodi said, “I remember everything you taught us about CPR. And if Laina really can learn something from the timegate, you should go. Maybe we can get back to the 21st century in one jump next time, and then we could get Mr. O’Brien to a doctor.”

  “Is that possible?” Hannah asked Laina. The girl was on her feet, pacing. She still had her pack on.

  Laina shrugged and looked at Hannah’s watch again. “There really isn’t much time. And it isn’t far.”

  Hannah was torn. She could send Nari and Jodi with Laina, but Bob was staring at her, even without words telling her to go wit
h Laina, to watch the girl’s back. Okay, fine. “We’ll run. When it’s gone, we’ll jog all the way back, so it won’t be long,” she told the girls. Then she made sure the first aid kit was still on the ground by the girls, grabbed her pack and spear, and said, “Let’s go, then,” to Laina.

  Laina grabbed up her spear and broke into a fast walk, at just under a trot. “I want to be there the instant it appears,” she said. “I need to time everything.”

  “Okay, okay,” said Hannah. “How long do we have?”

  “Less than a half-hour,” she said, picking up the pace even more, speed-walking.

  Hannah broke into a trot, more comfortable for her, even with the pack jouncing on her back. She kept quiet, letting Laina do whatever calculations she was no doubt doing in her head.

  They came to an area that was looking familiar. Then the picture clicked into place, matching Hannah’s memory. It was the precise place they had slept their first nights here.

  “It’s over here,” Laina said, pointing. She hurried in that direction. “Not too close, though, I don’t remember where exactly.”

  Hannah said, “How long?”

  “Six minutes, twenty seconds.”

  Hannah found a hole they’d dug for waste, marked by a short covering of new grass, and then she thought she had the area where they’d slept. “We camped right here, I think.”

  Laina pointed. “Over there, then, is where it should be. I think we can get a little closer.” She walked another dozen steps in the direction she had pointed.

  Hannah hurried to her side. “What are you looking for?”

  “I’ll know it when I see it.”

  Laina counted off the final seconds and then the timegate was there, the cascade of colors, appearing from nothing, like a waterfall of iridescence, purples and deep reds predominating.

  “It’s beautiful,” said Hannah.

  “It’ll get us home. Okay, these first five minutes, no one should go through, not ever. Let it stabilize.”

  “What would happen if you did go through too early?” Hannah said, feeling a chill.

  “Nothing good,” said Laina, staring at the watch. She circled around the timegate slowly, going all the way around. At the opposite side, she was still visible through the light. “Angle of entry means little about timing, but it might mean something else,” she said, when she had completed the circle. With the toe of her boot, she drew an arrow in the grass, pointing to one particular spot. “This is where everyone should go through,” she said.

  “Okay,” Hannah said. “But you’ll be here and can show us.”

  “You never know,” she said. “Garreth died. M.J. died.”

  “I won’t let you die,” Hannah said. “Not if I can possibly help it.”

  For a long time, Laina said nothing, just looked back and forth between the timegate and the watch. “The more people who know a skill, the better.” Laina looked up and smiled at her. “That’s what you always say, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Then I’m teaching you the skill. Angle of approach may not count, but let’s be on the safe side and go with what I know. Timing is everything,” Laina said. “Everything. I think we can maximize the jump by timing it just right.”

  “And get all the way back in one jump?”

  “No, sorry, that’s impossible. Has to be two.”

  “But you—”

  “Shush,” Laina said, holding up a hand. “Since the timegate appeared, it has been exactly fourteen minutes and four seconds.” She took the watch off her wrist and held it up. “Eight seconds. Remember that. Ten, eleven, twelve.” Laina dropped the watch on the ground.

  And she stepped into the timegate and was gone.

  Chapter 28

  “Laina!” Hannah screamed, taking a step toward the place she’d last seen the girl. She reached for the shimmering lights—

  But she stopped herself. She could follow Laina through. The rule was, she knew, once the first person went through, it stayed open. They didn’t know for how long, but for a minute, Laina had said, the gate should be open. Maybe even a few minutes, but definitely one minute.

  She realized, with a sinking feeling, that Laina had this contingency plan all along. She had repeated the facts about the timegate often enough to Hannah that Hannah knew them. She had been teaching her.

  Fourteen minutes and thirteen seconds.

  For God’s sake, Hannah, do not forget that. She could follow Laina, they all could, next month when the timegate appeared again.

  When would that be? About a month, anyway. They’d be here and camped in plenty of time for it, that was for sure.

  Or, she could follow Laina now. She had a few more seconds to decide. If she had any paper left, she could scribble a note, leave it here, and go after Laina, and then the others could follow next month. She threw off her pack and began to dig through it.

  It was a terrible decision to have to make. Alone, could Laina survive a month? In another month, would they even pop out to the same time as Laina, exactly? Would half a second’s difference put them 10,000 years away from her? Was she consigning Laina to death, alone, in the long-ago world of monstrous animals?

  She hesitated, knowing that every second she took to decide was one less second the time gate could be open. She could not step through and push Laina back. It wasn’t a two-way gate. Laina had sworn that was so, and there was no reason to doubt her. She’d been right about everything so far.

  If Bob was healthy, she might follow Laina right now. But he wasn’t. Without him, there wasn’t a healthy adult to oversee the kids. They might survive alone—they had a lot of skills now—but they might not. She worried that Dixie would be uncontrollable without an adult present, that Jodi and Zach would certainly have sex, and that one of them would die.

  She hadn’t found any paper in her pack. Her gear and supplies were scattered around her now. She unzipped the outer compartment, still looking for paper, still unsure if she was going to step through the gate at the last minute or not, and she saw the commercial pemmican packet that she’d never used. There was still a rock in her pocket. She tied the two together, and she threw them through the timegate. She hoped Laina had packed food, but if not, at least she had one meal.

  That’s all she could do for the girl. She had to stay here. It was purely a matter of numbers. Save one of them? Or stay with the majority? She had to let Laina go.

  She sat on the ground and stared at the timegate, feeling hopeless, hating her decision, even knowing it was the only one she could make. Could Laina survive alone?

  When the timegate flickered and disappeared, it felt like watching the door of a crypt close. Hannah grabbed her head and moaned. She thought she’d dissolve into tears, but apparently she had no more tears left.

  Either that, or she was too much in shock to cry.

  “Laina,” she said, “What were you thinking?”

  A few minutes later, she shook herself out of her shock. Gathering all her scattered belongings, she systematically repacked them. She went and picked up her watch from the grass, where Laina had tossed it.

  Fourteen minutes and thirteen seconds.

  She chanted it to herself as she walked back to join the rest of them. It was the first thing she said aloud to them. “Remember that,” she said. And then, as they all looked at her with the question in their eyes, she told them. “I lost Laina. She went through the timegate.”

  The End

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  Acknowledgments and a note on science

  I thank you most of all, my readers, for enjoying my books.

  My proofreading team of Cathy, Liz, Peg, and Nancy deserve—and have—my deepest gratitude.

  The world our time travelers are in this novel is in the Eocene, the Duchesnean North American Land Mammal Stage. There was a rich diversity of mammals, from impressively large animals to tiny rodents. The Gollum-faced crea
ture was an Oxygenid. The primates in the trees would go extinct by the end of the Eocene, evidence suggests, and no primates would exist again in North America until the first humans arrived (in geological time, a mere eye blink ago). Vitamin C does have an evolutionary history, connected to primate evolution.

  Dawn of Mammals will continue with book four in early 2017, Killer Pack.

  Keep reading for a free sample of the opening to my post-apocalyptic novel series, Gray.

  Gray

  Lou Cadle

  Chapter 1

  The midmorning sun lit her way as Coral pulled in near the cave’s entrance. She parked, climbed out of the cab of the motor home, and looked around the small clearing. An evergreen forest stretched down the slope ahead of her and back up to the distant mountain ridges. The woods were eerily still, not a bird singing or insect buzzing.

  She shook off a vague sense of unease as she walked over a pad of fallen pine needles to the cave’s entrance. She could see inside to curved walls marked by horizontal striations, carved patterns of water cutting through the rock in centuries past. Beyond the first few feet, the darkness of the cave beckoned.

  Returning to her brother’s aging 20-foot motor home, which he kept for hunting getaways and had reluctantly let her borrow for this trip, Coral found a flashlight in the glove box, shoving it into the daypack she always kept ready on the passenger seat for spontaneous hikes. Hauling the pack with her, she crawled back between the bucket seats to the living area. In the propane-powered mini refrigerator were two one-liter bottles of cold water. She made sure the cap of one was tight and tossed it in the pack, then, thinking better of it, grabbed the other, too. From the closet, she pulled her gray sweatshirt off a hook and tied it around her waist.

  She had nowhere to be and no one to report to until July 1, when her summer job started. Over the past ten days, she had lost track of days and calendar dates, a loss she found made her nearly giddy with relief after the past year of a rigid and packed freshman schedule at the University of Michigan. She was pre-med, and the classes were tough. This month was her well-deserved reward for a freshman year spent working while most of her friends had spent theirs partying.