JUST ONE DAMNED THING AFTER ANOTHER

by Jodi Taylor

  There were some murmurings from the group and someone said, ‘Hey.’

  ‘Don’t “hey” me. I’m ashamed of all of you. I’ll tell you this now. This “My section’s the best and only we’ve got any brains in this outfit,” attitude is really beginning to piss me off. Everyone makes a contribution here. The techies provide the wherewithal for us to do our job. Security keeps us all safe. Mrs Mack feeds us. How far would any of us get without her Toad in the Hole on Wednesdays? Wardrobe makes our costumes and equipment. Mrs Partridge’s gang make sure we all get paid on time. How important do you think they are?’ I paused. ‘And historians are the ones out there bleeding in the mud. Anyone here want our job?’

  I took a deep, ragged breath and spoke more quietly. ‘We’re all special and we’re all the best there is, but sometimes we’re such a pain in the arse.’

  Silence. It hadn’t worked. Most people looked sulky; the technicians looked smug and security was thinking about whom to hit next. We were one deep breath away from meltdown. And my face hurt.

  Suddenly, I was so tired of all this. This was no way to behave. I had, what seemed at the time, to be a brainwave. Turning to Dieter I said, ‘Come with me tomorrow.’

  He stared at me.

  ‘No, seriously, come with me tomorrow,’ I said, making it all up as I went along. ‘I have to return to the Cretaceous to check out something that arose out of today’s presentation. I’ll need a wingman, so why don’t you come along and see what it’s all about. Come on, Dieter, come and say hello to a T. rex!’

  I’d put him in an impossible position. He didn’t want to go. They all knew what happened to people who went out with me. I saw Kalinda stir and Peterson caught her arm.

  ‘What do you say, Dieter? Are you going to put your money where your mouth is? Or would you prefer to stay quietly at home? I’ll quite understand if you do.’

  Looking at him, I could see he wanted to say no. He was just looking for a face-saving way to do it. Well, I wasn’t going to help. Everyone watched in silence.

  ‘It’s OK, Dieter, I understand.’ I patted his arm gently. ‘It’s no big deal. But I think you would have enjoyed it. What a shame.’

  Just to add a little pressure, I touched my face gently and winced.

  He shook my hand off. ‘Of course I’ll go. Someone has to keep you historians out of trouble.’

  ‘Great. I’ll see you after breakfast for a quick briefing. It’s not a long jump, just a couple of hours, but enough to give you an idea. Greens by the way, definitely not orange. Some of them hunt by sight. And no more alcohol – that goes without saying.’

  He nodded, obviously wondering what he’d let himself in for. I moved off before he had time to change his mind and joined Kalinda and Peterson.

  ‘You’d better bring this one back,’ said Kalinda darkly. ‘And all of him, too; living and breathing.’ Just in case I hadn’t got the message.

  ‘It’ll be fine. It’s only a couple of hours. You’ll be shagging each other senseless again this time tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, please,’ said Peterson. ‘Max, you can’t take a techie on a jump.’

  ‘Why not? I took a techie on the presentation, which went very well, thank you for asking.’

  I wanted to distract them with the presentation and historians are easily distracted. Attention span of a – what was I saying?

  I saw Chief Farrell standing in the doorway surveying the destruction. He looked at me and the look clearly said, ‘Seriously? I leave you for ten minutes and you have a black eye?’

  Belatedly, I remembered protocol. I gestured to Dieter to join me.

  ‘Chief Farrell, as you know, I need to return to the Cretaceous tomorrow and with your permission, I’d like Mr Dieter to accompany me on a short jump. I need a wingman and he has expressed an interest. If you have no objections, of course.’

  He glanced around the room slowly being put to rights. I felt a little guilty. I’d really sprung this on him. Dieter knew it and stood waiting for permission to be refused. I moved my hand slightly to where the Chief could see it and crossed my fingers.

  He smiled slightly. ‘A new experience for you, Mr Dieter. Well volunteered. Enjoy yourself.’

  Dieter took a deep breath. ‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,’ shot me a look and disappeared.

  ‘Leon …’

  ‘I know,’ he sighed. ‘The night before a jump is traditionally spent in a solitary and sober fashion.’

  ‘Well, I’ve got a passenger tomorrow. You’ll want me to take care of him.’

  ‘I would be grateful if you could.’

  ‘I’ll bring him back without a mark on him.’

  I made the promise in all good faith.

  We parted in the Hall.

  ‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘There’s always tomorrow night.’

  But there wasn’t. It only goes to show – take your eye off the ball and Fate, Destiny, History, call it what you will, steps up and just pisses all over your chips.

  Chapter Eleven

  I put together a short briefing for Dieter and met him at breakfast. He’d remembered his greens and looked sober and calm, albeit apprehensive.

  We looked through things. He asked questions, good ones and I began to feel quite optimistic. I planned to show him around the lakeside where, hopefully, there would be enough wildlife to make it interesting without being life-threatening in any way. So long as it was far enough away, I quite hoped for a T-rex.

  Loads of nosey people had found things to do in Hawking that morning. I waved to Kal and Tim up on the gantry. They gestured back. So rude!

  We settled into the pod, good old Number Eight, and the Chief carried out the last minute checks. Dieter was very quiet. At last we were done. I started flicking switches. The Chief leaned over Dieter.

  ‘Just one last thing. Miss Maxwell is in charge of this pod, this mission and you. You do exactly as she tells you, when she tells you, because that will save your life. Is that understood?’

  He swallowed. ‘Yes, sir’

  ‘Good luck, both of you.’

  ‘Thanks Chief. Put the kettle on.’

  I locked the door. The world went white.

  Again, Fate, Destiny, whatever, took a hand. We were near the lake, but higher up on the slope, at the unexplored northern end. We bumped as we landed and one of the hydraulic legs unfolded automatically to keep us level. I checked all the read-outs very carefully. This mission would be by the book. There was no way I could take back a damaged Dieter and ever hear the last of it. But everything seemed quiet. Nothing large appeared within biting distance.

  I checked over my passenger – helmet, vest, coms and blaster; everything the well-dressed historian carries. We jumped up and down. Nothing jingled and nothing fell off. We activated the cameras and set off.

  I remembered my first time and gave him a couple of minutes to get his head around it. The warm blue sky, the forest noises, the heat, the smell, the sheer exhilaration. He spun around and around. ‘Wow! I’m sixty-seven million years ago! Max, this is absolutely, bloody amazing!’

  ‘You just wait,’ I said. ‘We’ll go this way and then down a bit.’

  He pulled himself together and we headed towards a gap in the trees which should give us good views of the lake and the flat areas around. I stayed vigilant because although I wasn’t expecting any trouble, this was the Cretaceous period after all. And I was quite fond of Dieter.

  Vigilant and alert I may have been, but I was totally unprepared for the brain-numbing, gobsmacking shock I got when we emerged from the small copse and got a good view of down below. I stood transfixed, then grabbed Dieter by the arm and pulled him down to the ground. We wriggled forwards on our bellies and tried to make sense of what we were seeing below.

  It was like a small town down there. I could see tents, people, cages, vehicles. Pop music played over a PA system. I could smell cooking. What the fuck was going on?

  ‘Dieter, make sure you’re getting all this.’ I star
ted to dictate into my com. I could hear him doing the same. He estimated numbers of people and described them, counted the pods and noted their positions. I counted the cages and identified the occupants as best I could, all the time turning my head so the camera could get the full sweep.

  A large cage stood slightly apart – its occupant a young, half-grown T-rex. Even though not fully grown, he was still too big for the cage and he roared and bellowed trying to swing his head around and batter his way out. As I watched, a group of men wandered past on their way to somewhere else. One pulled out what looked like a Taser and casually zapped him as they passed. He bellowed and lunged against the bars and they all laughed. I felt my blood turn hot and beside me, Dieter growled.

  Further towards the tree line, another group of men were pulling a Hadrosaur from her cage. She was fitted with restraints but they still shouted and poked and prodded her forwards. Not understanding what was happening to her, upset and confused at being separated from her herd, she wailed in distress and fear. Even as we looked, she reared. They jerked the restraint viciously and she twisted awkwardly in mid-air. I heard the crack of a broken bone from all the way up where we were. She crashed heavily to the ground and lay, crying in pain. Someone stepped forward and put a bullet in her brain. Dieter gasped. Suddenly, I liked him a lot. A forklift bustled forward to remove the carcass. Obviously, this had happened before. And still they did it.

  Both the T.rex and the dead Hadrosaur had a splodge of green paint on their sides and a red one on their forehead. I looked around and saw some caged animals had the same markings. Was it some sort of classification?

  Dieter was describing vehicles and plant, together with lists of power provisions and generators. I set up a live feed back to the pod and tried to identify their security arrangements. There didn’t seem to be any apart from an electrified perimeter fence and a lookout tower by the gate. The whole camp seemed to be built around some large central structure, but the view was obscured.

  I was speculating on the origins and purpose of the camp below when Dieter nudged me. ‘Look at that, over there. Does that look like a kind of arena to you? And that’s a funnel. Have you ever seen a salmon run? The fish swim forwards into the funnel and then can’t turn round. This is a dinosaur run. These guys are hunters. They’re going to drive the animals in and shoot them. That’s what those paint marks are. They’re targets. They’re painting targets on dinosaurs; so many points for a red hit and so many for a green. Maybe they even shoot them in the cages. Max, we can’t let this happen. This is so wrong.’

  He was right. I could easily imagine the scene; panicking and confused dinosaurs milling around an enclosed space. Depending on the species, some would vainly seek to escape. Others, (the ones for whom I had a sneaky soft spot), would not understand the threat and would make a stand, roaring their challenge and all of them screaming in pain and terror as high-impact bullets or armour-piercing shells tore into them, shredding flesh and bones, as they crashed to the ground in blood and dust while these – tossers – stood in perfect safety, cheered each other on and called it sport. I remembered that night at the hotel and the Chief telling me about problems from the future. This was why he came back. Suddenly it really was balls to the wall time. Trouble had arrived and it was up to us to deal with it, even if we had only stumbled upon it by accident. I wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t decided to take a techie to work today?

  And another thought – was this what Sussman had been protecting? We were at the unexplored northern end. Maybe it was no coincidence he attacked me on that very day. What was his role in all this?

  I was so busy thinking this through that it took some seconds to register the five or six muffled explosions at the head of the valley.

  ‘What the fuck now?’ said Dieter, taking the words out of my mouth. The ground began to shake. I heard a noise like thunder. We both looked up at the cloudless sky, but this was continuous, never ending thunder, drawing closer all the time. Tens, scores, possibly even hundreds of animals were coming our way. I could hear trees splintering and crashing to the ground. Flying reptiles erupted into the air, screaming and shrieking. Small rocks tumbled past. The dinosaur run had begun.

  ‘Come on Dieter, we have to go. Now! Come on!’

  We ran together. The ground shook and we were continually pulling each other to our feet. I was really worried about the pod. Even with its bracing leg extended, it wasn’t as stable as I’d like it to be.

  ‘A bit like its owner, then,’ panted Dieter and I began to think we might make a historian of him yet.

  Number Eight was still there and upright, but the loose shale on which it balanced was beginning to slide downhill and taking the pod with it. The thunder grew louder and over the crest of the hill came the stampede, invisible in a huge cloud of dust. No time to look – we had only seconds.

  Dieter’s strength got us across the shale. He had the sense to head slightly down hill, which made things easier for us and we met the pod as it slithered past. The door opened and we leaped in. No time to buckle up. The leg snapped off and we tilted. The next moment the stampede was upon us.

  Something big and heavy hit the roof. The ceiling sagged badly, tiles fell and wires dangled, spitting and twisting. The lights flickered wildly. Something else kicked us and we tipped over, rolling down the slope. Locker doors swung open and their contents crashed down on top of us. We were hurled around the inside of the pod, bouncing painfully off the walls.

  With a bellow, something really big fell on top of us, the walls bulged outwards and frighteningly, with a noise like a pistol shot, the screen cracked. I think Dieter was yelling. I know I was.

  I shouted, ‘Computer, emergency extraction …’ and it all went horribly quiet. Through the distorted screen I could see the ground – a long way down. We’d gone over the bloody cliff!

  ‘… Now!’ hoping desperately we would jump before we hit the ground, which was getting closer and closer. And then the world went black.

  Much later, I saw the tapes of our landing. Every alarm in the unit went off. The hangar was still full of nosey sods awaiting our return. As our pod appeared about eight feet above the plinth, people scattered. Techies threw aside their umbilicals and ran for their lives. The pod landed on the plinth with a thunderous crash. Dust and debris dropped from the hangar roof. The whole hangar shook. They felt the impact all through the main building. Apparently, the shock was such that one of our decorative stone pineapples fell from its plinth and crashed onto the front steps beneath, narrowly missing our caretaker, Mr Strong, who had stepped outside for a crafty fag.

  The pod bounced down the hangar like something dreamed up by Barnes Wallis, inventor of the famous bouncing bomb, scattering people as it went and finally came to a stop, door side down naturally, in front of Plinth Three at the other end of the hangar.

  On the tapes there was a long, shocked silence. Red and blue lights bounced off stunned faces. Chief Farrell moved first.

  ‘Emergency evacuation! All non-essential personnel out. Now. Crash teams to me. Move.’

  Karl and Peterson got people off the gantry while contriving to stay put themselves. They were joined by the Boss, who had turned up to see who was trying to wreck his unit.

  Major Guthrie and a security team appeared from the back of the hangar, closely followed by Helen and her team of medics. All in all, the hangar cleared and key personnel assembled in around two minutes. Quite impressive. When they discovered the pod had landed on its door, the Chief kicked the pod in frustration, snapped an order and Polly Perkins dashed off out of the picture.

  Inside the pod, where the important people were, Dieter and I were still wondering who we were and what the hell was going on. Amazingly, we were still conscious and gave thanks for our vests and helmets.

  ‘Jesus,’ whispered Dieter, ‘I am never going anywhere with you again, Max. Ever. I’m not even using the dining room if you’re there. You’re a fucking disaster!’

 
‘I think that’s a little unkind,’ I said, weakly. ‘You’re surely not blaming me for this.’

  There followed some argument which it would not be useful to repeat, but he seemed better afterwards,

  ‘How are you?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, I’m lying on the door which means we can’t get out and they can’t get in, with the contents of seven lockers on top of me and there are live wires everywhere. What about you, Max. You OK?’

  ‘Yes, I think so. Listen, Dieter, this is important. If I pass out you must make them download the tapes first. I know we’ve got live cables everywhere, but if they switch the power off then we might lose all our data. I’m sorry, kiddo, but it’s more important than we are.’ Silence. ‘Dieter, I’m sorry, but you’ve just become an honorary historian, which means you rank somewhere between blue-green algae and the duck-billed platypus in the scheme of things. The Boss must see those tapes.’

  More silence. I didn’t know what to say to him. I’d brought him with me in a stupid attempt to promote equality and co-operation and I’d nearly got him killed.

  ‘Dieter, are you still awake?’

  ‘Honorary historian, eh?’

  ‘Could be.’

  ‘So how does this work? Do I have one orange leg and one blue leg?’

  My com crackled. Farrell said, ‘Max, can you hear me?’

  ‘Good afternoon, Chief.’

  ‘Is Dieter OK?’

  ‘Yes, we’re just redesigning his uniform.’

  ‘Are either of you injured?’

  ‘We may be a little shaken.’

  ‘We’ll get you out in a jiffy.’

  ‘Is the Boss there? Can I have a word?’

  ‘Just a minute.’

  He came on immediately. ‘Miss Maxwell. That was quite an entrance.’

  ‘Sir, I apologise for disturbing your afternoon. We’ve got some data here and it’s important you see this. It’s more important than we are. Please sir; under no circumstances allow them to disconnect the power in this pod. You must preserve the data. You’ll understand when you see it.’