by Jack Geurts
And there, nestled in amongst it all, was the dig site. The marquees and the cars. The excavator and the bulldozer. The row of portable toilets and the scattering of tents. All of it exactly the way it had been prior to Janus’ rampage – undamaged, unbloodied.
They had returned to the morning before Jasper’s discovery of the saddle – a favour Io had granted him before he flipped the reset switch on humankind.
Jasper started down the hill and off toward the dig site, picking his way through the long, spiky grass. He passed the tents quietly, most of the students still asleep, and when he came to his own tent, he was especially quiet.
He crouched down to unzip the door flap. At one point, he heard rustling inside as whoever was asleep turned over. He froze, and when all was silent again, he continued. Finally, the zip was high enough for him to poke his head inside, and he looked upon another version of himself curled up in a sleeping bag, eyes closed and dreaming.
A younger version, much younger it seemed, even though they were only a couple of days apart – a version of himself before the saddle, before the dinosaur, before Janus and Io and the Precursor map. Before travelling through time in an invisible spaceship, before braving trap-filled tombs and riding dinosaurs atop pyramids. So much had changed, Jasper felt like the boy sound asleep in that tent was a different person entirely.
It was almost too strange to believe, even after everything that had happened – crouching there and watching himself sleep. It was like an out of body experience, and he knew he had to act quickly before his younger self woke.
Jasper reached in to the open duffel bag at the foot of his bed, removing another shirt and a pair of jeans. He quickly removed the filthy, torn clothes he was wearing and pulled on the clean ones. He knew it would raise too many questions if he didn’t change.
When he was done, Jasper took one last look at his younger self and zipped the tent back up.
He dropped his soiled clothes into a bin outside the dining tent and found his parents sipping tea inside. Jonathan was reading the paper and Zoe was staring out at where the sun would soon rise, savouring the dawn. It took Jasper a moment to compose himself, to adjust to the sight of them alive and well and oblivious to the things he knew. They were the only ones awake as Jasper knew they would be. He was very specific about the time he had asked Io to deliver him here. For what he was about to do, he didn’t want anyone else around – especially his younger self.
Zoe saw him first and smiled, surprised. “What are you doing up so early?”
Jasper shrugged. Jonathan turned and saw him too. “Hey, buddy. You going to have some breakfast or are you just going to stand there?”
Jasper realised he had stopped moving and was just staring at them. He snapped out of it, walked over and sat down with them at the fold-out table.
“How’d you sleep?” Zoe said. “Not well, by the looks of it.”
Despite the nap he’d taken on the way to Peru, Jasper was still exhausted – physically and mentally drained. He must have looked it too.
“Oh...” Jasper said, trying to play it off. “No, just tossed and turned for a bit. Bad dream.”
“What about?”
“I was riding a dinosaur.”
Jonathan and Zoe exchanged a smile. That boy of ours...
There was so much Jasper wanted to tell them. The things he had seen, the things he had done. He wanted to tell them about the glistening white pyramids in Egypt, about standing atop the ziggurat in Eridu, looking out over the world’s first city. He wanted to tell them about walking across a sea of mercury in the Emperor’s tomb, about bringing an alien princess back to life with his bare hands.
But even if he did recount his adventure, there was no way they could believe him. Even if he went and exposed the saddle they would find in the next couple of days, it would not prove the rest of the tale. He had to content himself with just being there, sitting with them and waiting for the sun to rise.
And that was more than enough.
“What kind of dinosaur?” Zoe said, humouring him.
“Giganotosaurus.”
Jonathan nodded, impressed. “That would have been a hell of a ride.”
“It sure was.”
He had told Io he wouldn’t be long. Normally, she would never have let him return here, but since he was about to take the world back sixty thousand years – meaning Jasper’s present time would be lost forever – Io had seen no harm in allowing him to say goodbye. It was all she would have wanted when her brother was killed, but her father hadn’t allowed it.
Jasper struggled to comprehend how all of this would cease to exist after he pressed that button – how the world he knew would simply vanish. The towns and cities, the skyscrapers. The cars, the planes, the satellites. All of it gone. In their place, forests would grow, mountains would rise, rivers would flow.
And people would slowly spread out to colonise the world again...
Jonathan had returned to his paper. Zoe brushed Jasper’s hair out of his eyes and smiled at him. “You alright, hon?”
Jasper nodded. “I think I’m going to go for a walk.”
Another glance between Jonathan and Zoe – this time, one of surprise. “A walk?” Zoe said.
“Yeah.”
“What’s gotten into you? Getting up early and going for a walk.”
“Why...is that bad?”
“No, it’s not bad at all,” said Jonathan. “It’s just...different.”
“Is different bad?”
“No. Different’s just different. It’s good.”
He smiled. Jasper smiled, too. He knew he had to leave, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to stay here forever just waiting for the sun to rise.
“Alright, well...” Jasper got to his feet. “I’d better get to it.”
“Good luck,” said his dad. “Watch out for anything that crawls or slithers, anything with fangs.”
“So just watch out for anything, pretty much,” Zoe said, with a laugh.
Jasper laughed, too. “I will.”
“Where’s your hat?” said Jonathan.
Jasper remembered how it had blown off in the sandstorm at Eridu. “Uh... I don’t know. I must’ve left it somewhere.”
Jonathan shook his head, chuckling. “Well, the sun’ll be up soon. Here...” His own cowboy hat was resting on the bench beside his cup. Jonathan picked it up and passed it to his son.
Jasper took the hat reverently in both hands. He lingered a moment on the image of his parents – alive and well and happy. This is how he would remember them. This is the last time he would ever see them, the last time he would speak to them or hear them speak to him. The last time they would ever be together, except in his dreams.
He hugged his mother, then went around the table and hugged his dad. Both of them were almost too shocked to reciprocate.
“I love you guys.” Jasper had to concentrate to keep his voice from trembling.
“We...love you too, buddy,” Jonathan said, still trying to decipher who this boy was and what he had done with his son. He and his wife smiled at each other as Jasper turned and headed out. He was almost clear of the marquee when Jonathan said, “Oh hey, buddy...”
Jasper stopped. Turned back.
“I forgot to tell you what an awesome job you did on that history project. Hannibal crossing the Alps. Sorry I was so busy yesterday – I had a look at it last night. Fascinating stuff. I had no idea he went through all that and came so close to changing the course of history. If only his dad had’ve been alive to see what he accomplished, hey?”
If only, Jasper thought.
His father went on, “Anyway...just wanted to say I’m proud of you, bud.”
Jasper swallowed, and nodded. “Thanks,” was all he managed to say, and then he turned and was gone. He walked away from the marquee with his heart in his throat. A single tear ran down the side of his face, but he didn’t brush it away. He left it there.
He placed Jonathan’s hat atop his he
ad as he walked. It fitted perfectly, and the inner lining of the crown was still damp with the sweat of his father’s brow. The same hat he’d seen pushed low over those eyes as the man chipped and dusted and surveyed the land.
He felt his parents watching him go, but he didn’t dare turn back. If he turned back, he’d never leave. He’d run into his mother’s arms and cry like he did when he was a boy and skinned his knee playing out in the street. But he wasn’t a boy any more.
He heard the thin, whistling screech of an eagle and looked up to see one flying overhead. A wedge-tailed eagle like the one his mother had pointed out as they sat beneath the evening sky – maybe even the same one. She had told him that the dinosaurs didn’t die out – they just changed.
“Maybe we can change, too,” she had said.
Maybe we can, thought Jasper. Maybe we can.
He brushed the tears away before he crested the ridge and started down to where the Flight Pod was parked. Io was waiting out front, Dia by her side. She noticed the hat, but said nothing.
He stopped a few paces short of her and looked around, taking in the view – like he had all the time in the world and not a worry in it. Io waited a few seconds, a little confused, then said, “Shall we?”
Jasper let out a long sigh – not disappointed or frustrated, but contented. Finally seeming to be at peace with himself.
“We’re not going back to Egypt,” he said.
“But...”
“I know.”
Io paused, thinking of what this would mean. “Then...Janus wins.”
“Not necessarily.”
She frowned at him, not understanding.
“We’re just assuming there’s only two ways this can end. Either we take the earth back sixty thousand years and humanity has a chance, or we do nothing and they’re doomed. But there’s a third option: we do nothing...and they still have a chance.”
Io waited for him to elaborate.
“Janus wanted to stop us because he thinks that if we keep going the way we are, then we’re going to wipe ourselves out, but...I don’t think he was giving humanity enough credit, and I don’t think we are either. I don’t think we’re taking into account how smart people are. How resilient they are. They’re smart enough to adapt to a changing world and they can figure out a way to keep living here. They’re survivors. They’ve survived natural disasters, wild animals, famines, plagues, wars. They came from nothing to be the dominant species on this planet and it wasn’t because they were the strongest, or the fastest, or the biggest. It was because they were the smartest. And they’re smart enough to figure this out.”
Io didn’t say anything for a moment as she took it all in. Then she smiled. “I am proud of you, Jasper.”
He smiled back.
Then Io realised something, and her face fell. “I cannot leave you here, with your parents.”
Jasper nodded. “I know.”
“Then...what will you do? Where will you go?”
He looked down at Dia and half-smiled, then back up at her. “Well, actually, I was...kind of hoping I could come back with you. If that’s alright.”
The question caught her off-guard. “Oh...um...I had not considered...”
“It’s alright,” Jasper said, trying to play it off. “Don’t worry about it.”
But she was worried. She wondered how it hadn’t occurred to her earlier what would become of Jasper after their mission was complete. Perhaps she had assumed they would simply go their separate ways – she would return to her planet, he would remain on his. An orphan left to make his own way in the world. Now, it seemed almost cruel to leave him.
Despite them only having known each other a couple of days, Io felt a bond between them that seemed much older, and deeper. A bond forged in the fires of adventure – in fear and doubt and exhilaration. In life-threatening danger, and breathtaking wonder. In the recognition of a kindred spirit, somehow in this vast and lonely universe.
She looked down at Dia, who lifted his big, imploring eyes to meet hers and left her no choice at all.
Io turned back to Jasper and said, “I suppose my father will be very interested to meet the man who saved my life.”
Jasper looked up, a bit of light returning to his eyes. The hint of a smile on Io’s face.
“Healed me with his bare hands no less.”
Jasper’s mouth curled slowly into a matching smile. He took one last look at the desert that was once an ocean, and saw the moon still present in the predawn sky, faded with the coming of the sun.
He followed Io and Dia up into the Flight Pod, and once everyone was buckled in or curled up on the saddle, the ramp was raised, and the spaceship lifted into a hovering position while it retracted its telescopic legs.
And as the first blinding rays of sun fanned out over the plain, they took off toward the moon – rocketing through the sky and seeming to any upturned eyes like a shooting star, or the passing figure of a god.
***
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jack Geurts is the author of The Fire and the Forge, first in an epic fantasy series about cruel gods pulling the strings of mortals and people wielding elemental magic. He lives on coffee and podcasts, and only leaves the house to walk his dog, Ruben. Currently, he’s hard at work on his next book.
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ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
PANTHEON SERIES:
Queen of the Dead Lands (coming soon)
To Kill a King
The Fire and the Forge
Buried in the Sky
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OTHER BOOKS:
Vendetta
Mercy Killing
© 2018 Jack Geurts. All rights reserved.
