Return To Primordial Island

by Rick Poldark

  Peter’s Simian mount grunted and it bounded back into the jungle. Peter clutched him tightly around the neck just in time to hang on. The Simian leapt, and they were suddenly airborne, swinging from branch to branch with such speed and grace it took Peter’s breath away.

  He closed his eyes as his stomach lurched. He was never one for amusement rides, and this was much worse. There were no seat belts or safety bars to keep him from plummeting to his death. In time, he opened his eyes and instantly regretted it. They were way up into the canopy. He looked down below, through breaks in the tree branches and leaves and saw a pack of tyrannosaurs roaming around beneath them. It was at that moment Peter realized they were being escorted safely through the jungle, carefully following the river back north as Peter, Tracey, and Mary had been observed doing.

  Peter caught a flash of something in his peripheral vision. A blur flew right by him and collided with one of the Simians to his right. The ape cried out, losing its grip on its branch, nearly falling. Another blur zoomed past Peter, and he turned his head to see the wide wingspan and pointy head of a pterodactyl descending on him through a gap in the trees.

  He braced himself, clinging to his Simian’s neck, but he felt claws grip his torso. He was suddenly lifted from his Simian as it swung away, disappearing into the trees. Peter called out for help, but the flapping of a twelve-foot wingspan yanked him upward, taking his breath away.

  He felt a large hand wrap around his ankle, yanking him out of the pterodactyl’s grip, and another Simian slung him onto its back. It swung away posthaste as the winged predator pursued. Peter heard the shouts and cries of Tracey and Mary as he saw other pterodactyls descend upon them, attempting to snatch them away.

  Other Simians punched and swatted at the airborne attackers, roaring in fury. The canopy erupted in a feeding frenzy, and Peter hung on for dear life. His Simian made an abrupt turn to evade a winged attacker, and Peter lost his grip. He slid off its back, falling through the canopy. In his freefall he saw a pterodactyl diving right for him. Another Simian reached out and snatched him from its beak as it snapped closed, just missing him. The winged reptile collided with a tree trunk, but Peter didn’t get the chance to see what happened to it as he was immediately whisked away. The Simians threw him around like a ragdoll, passing him back and forth, keeping him out of harm’s way as they contended with the winged scourge.

  After a few minutes, the Simians had put enough distance between them and the pterodactyls, and the canopy was once again safe for passage. While making stops on long tree branches up high, Peter caught glimpses of the other Simians. He saw Tracey for a brief moment, and then Mary. He was thankful they were safe. They spent the rest of the day swinging through the trees until Peter’s Simian stopped at the edge of a clearing. It grunted at him.

  Peter hoisted himself up on its shoulders and had a look. Tracey and Mary each landed on a nearby tree on the back of their escorts.

  “It’s base camp,” said Tracey. “The Simians took us back.”

  “It looks deserted,” said Mary.

  It was true. Peter didn’t see any sign of activity. The tents remained upright and intact, and the land vehicles appeared unharmed, but there wasn’t a soul to be found.

  “The helicopter is gone,” said Tracey, crestfallen.

  “They left us,” said Mary, bitter.

  “We don’t know that,” said Peter. He noticed the Simians waited, listening to their discussion, though he doubted they comprehended it. Peter held a hand out in front of his escort’s face and pointed his finger down to the ground.

  With a jolt that nearly sent Peter flying off its back, the Simian swung down, descending the tree, finally landing on the ground. Peter barely hung on for dear life. Tracey and Mary landed next to him on their Simians.

  They each slid off their escort’s back. Peter was relieved to have his feet planted on terra firma. He stepped forward, his eyes searching the camp.

  A diminutive figure stepped out of the main tent, looking around. It appeared to be one of the Umazoa. Peter squinted, trying to determine who it was. “It’s Hiu!” Then other tribespeople stepped out.

  “He did it,” gasped Mary. “He saved his tribe.”

  “Let’s go say hello,” said Peter. He turned to his escort and pounded his chest. “Thank you.”

  The ape warrior returned the gesture, and then he grunted at the others. They immediately dispersed, leaping into the trees and disappearing into the canopy.

  Peter smiled, watching them vanish. They seemed like a good species. Maybe there was hope for this place yet. “Let’s go.”

  He, Tracey, and Mary strolled into camp. They were quickly spotted by one of the Umazoa, who sounded the alarm. Within seconds, they were surrounded. Men, women, and children all took turns embracing each of them, fussing over them in a true hero’s welcome.

  “Thank you…yes, nice to see you…” Peter looked around to see if any Poseidon Tech staff were present. He saw Hiu approach, smiling, arms held out wide in front of him. Marcy and Collins were with him.

  The others parted as Hiu embraced Peter first, chattering on in Umazoan. He touched Peter on his arms and chest, apparently looking for wounds. His expression turned to concern when he saw Peter’s chest sans orb. Hiu pulled his shirt open, practically sticking his head inside. “Where it?”

  “Gone,” answered Peter. “Nazimaa gone. Dead.”

  This pleased Hiu, as he laughed raucously and embraced Peter again. He then kissed and embraced Tracey and Mary, greeting them as prodigal children returned. His joy faded as he looked around. He turned to Peter once more. “Where hunter?”

  Peter’s smile withered, and he shook his head.

  Hiu bowed his head in respect and grief.

  “We thought you left us,” said Tracey, hugging Marcy.

  “Not a chance,” said Collins, shaking Peter’s hand. “Marcy wouldn’t leave without you.”

  “You stayed too,” said Peter.

  Collins shrugged. “I was contracted to bring everyone back safely. I didn’t want to get sued for breach of contract.”

  They all shared a laugh.

  “So, that means we’re getting off this damned island?” asked Mary.

  Collins nodded. “A chopper is on its way to pick us up.”

  “Thank you,” said Peter.

  “Don’t mention it,” said Collins. He pointed to Marcy. “You should’ve seen her stand up to Nielsen.”

  “He must be pissed,” said Tracey to Marcy.

  Marcy smirked. “I think he was impressed.”

  “How did you know we’d come back? That you’d ever see us again?” asked Tracey.

  Marcy shot a glance at Peter. “I knew you’d bring him back. I just had a feeling.”

  Within minutes, a chopper arrived. Hiu and his tribe, having never seen a contraption like that before, startled and practically ran away. Peter and the others reassured them, and they reluctantly stayed but never took their eyes off the magic flying machine. Hiu nearly fell over when he saw a human hop out.

  Nielsen ran over to the group. “Excellent! You’re back.” He looked around at the group. “Where’s Jason and Susan?”

  “They died saving our lives,” said Peter.

  “We have to go,” said Nielsen. “HQ is sending a fresh team to guard base camp. We’re keeping the portal open.”

  “About that…” said Peter.

  “We’ll discuss your concerns when we return back to our dimension,” insisted Nielsen. “There’ll be a full debriefing.”

  Peter nodded. He said his goodbyes to everyone. He didn’t have time to tell Hiu about the Simians, nor did he have time to ask about the Zehhaki. It would all have to work itself out—natural selection.

  He hopped into the chopper with the others, and they took off, heading for the offshore oil rig. Peter looked out the window as the island dropped beneath him, shrinking as they flew away. The island remained in view, the portal containment field holding up. However, as th
ey flew further away from it, the sky resumed its familiar blue. He was in his home dimension again.

  It was an odd sensation, leaving the island behind. He didn’t know why, but he felt ambivalent about it.

  * * *

  In the cafeteria, Peter dove into a ham sandwich with Swiss and mustard. He never thought a ham sandwich could taste so good. The others also dove in, stuffing their faces like ravenous beasts. Peter took a long draw off his can of ginger ale, which tasted amazing.

  Nielsen watched, smiling, apparently pleased they enjoyed the refreshments provided by Poseidon Tech. “Eat and drink up. We head back home in a few hours, after a full debriefing.”

  “Can I take a shower?” asked Mary. “God, I’m dying for a shower.”

  “I think we have time for that,” said Nielsen.

  “Fresh underwear,” blurted Peter with his mouth full. “I’d give my right arm for a fresh pair of underwear.”

  Home. While initially a strange concept, with the island behind him (left in another dimension) a feeling of normalcy began to wash over him. He wanted to see his parents and his friends. He enjoyed the filtered air in the cafeteria, the feel of the metal tables, and the halogen lighting. It was real.

  He wasn’t sure if he was just compartmentalizing it all in his mind, but his experience on the island was beginning to feel like the vague memory of a distant fever dream. He looked over at Tracey, who was downing an ice-cold beer. She was real, and now their relationship was real. Prior to the island, the notion of romantic involvement with Tracey was a mere fantasy. Ironically, actual fantasy made their relationship real.

  The whole experience with the dinosaurs, orbs, demons, lizard and ape men…it all reminded him of one of those Saturday morning cartoons from the 1980s he liked to stream on the internet. It was like a tabletop RPG come to life. No one was going to believe it. Then again, thanks to the non-disclosure agreement he had signed, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone anyway.

  He’d get to tell Nielsen everything when he was done gorging on deli sandwiches. Then again, maybe Nielsen didn’t have to know every little detail.

  Chapter 17

  Peter heard the doorbell ring as he just about finished setting up the game. Tracey and a few of their old faculty gamer friends sat around the dining room table. Everyone was smiling and laughing, drinking cold beer, and munching on handfuls of chips and popcorn.

  He stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

  Peter crossed the dining room and living room to the front door. When he answered it, his face fell.

  “Hi, Dr. Albanese,” said David Lennox, smiling.

  “I’m busy right now.”

  Lennox chuckled affably. “I just need a few minutes of your time, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “Peter, you don’t even know why I’m here.”

  “It’s ‘Dr. Albanese.’ And I can hazard an educated guess.”

  “Just a few minutes. I promise.”

  Peter sighed and stepped aside, allowing Lennox to enter.

  Tracey stepped into the living room smiling. “Who is it, Peter?” her smile faded when she saw David Lennox standing in their living room.

  “Oh good! You’re both here,” said Lennox.

  “What do you want? We have company,” snapped Tracey.

  “Just a few minutes of your time,” said Lennox.

  Peter waved him over to another room off the living room. “Let’s step into the den.”

  Lennox nodded and followed Peter into the den. Tracey followed, closing the door behind them.

  David Lennox looked around at the room lined with mahogany bookcases. In the center sat a mahogany desk, with two plush leather chairs positioned in front of it. To the right was an eighty-six-inch television mounted on the wall. “You have a lovely home. I see you’ve put your stipend to good use.”

  Peter turned around and leaned on his desk. “What do you want, Mr. Lennox?”

  Lennox chose to remain standing and cleared his throat. “Poseidon Tech is going to be expanding operations on the island. There are other interested parties.”

  “Other governments?” said Peter.

  Lennox didn’t confirm or deny it. Instead, he flashed his signature smarmy grin. “We need guides. Those with obvious experience on the island. You two, of course, would be paid handsomely.”

  “Forget it,” said Tracey.

  Lennox’s grin grew wider. “Don’t you want to know how much?”

  “No,” said Peter. “We’re perfectly happy with our current arrangement.”

  Lennox nodded, his smile waning only slightly. “You’re living the high life now. It takes money to maintain this sort of lifestyle.”

  “We’ll do just fine,” insisted Peter. “Now, if that is all…”

  “How about scientific curiosity?”

  “Fully satiated. I know all I’ll ever want to know about dinosaurs.”

  Lennox leveled his gaze at Peter. “It’s a shame. This is all going to go public. The greatest scientific discovery in the history of mankind, and you don’t want to be part of it?”

  “We were a part of it,” said Tracey.

  “Not officially,” reminded Lennox. “Why don’t you enjoy your time in the sun, take your fifteen minutes? Parlay it into something else you want to do. You could finance more digs.”

  “That island, which is actually more of a continent, is dangerous,” demanded Peter. “Who knows what else lurks in that dimension undiscovered?”

  “Discovery is fraught with danger,” said Lennox. “The moon landing was extremely dangerous, executed with less technology than exists in your cell phone. Yet, it was a tremendous achievement.”

  Peter only glared at him.

  Lennox chuckled to himself. “Okay. Point taken.” He reached into the right breast pocket of his designer suit and produced a stiff, off-white business card. “In case you should change your mind.”

  Peter accepted it and guided Lennox out of the den. They crossed the living room, and Peter held the front door open. Lennox stepped outside. He turned to say something. “Remember your non-disclosure…” but Peter closed the door in his face.

  He sighed. “That felt good. Shall we return to our guests?”

  Tracey smiled. “Yes, let’s.”

  They returned to the dining room table. Tracey took her seat, and Peter took his. He looked at his friends from over his Game Master screen and cleared his throat. Everyone grew quiet. They all watched him as they sipped beers and rolled polyhedral dice in their trays, practicing. Miniature game pieces sat haphazardly on a well-worn gridded game board.

  “Okay,” he began. “Your airplane experiences quite a bit of turbulence as it flies through a massive storm. Lightning flashes outside your window. Suddenly, the plane drops, the cabin loses pressure, and oxygen masks drop from the ceiling. You black out and regain consciousness. You’re on the ground, the torn fuselage open to the night sky.

  “Most of the passengers have died, leaving you as the only survivors. Raindrops fall through the opening above you. As you look around and begin to process your predicament, you realize you’ve landed on an uncharted island.

  “Off to the right, you see trees moving in the moonlight.” Peter contorted his face and raised his arms, pulling them close to his body for dramatic effect. “A massive Tyrannosaurus rex steps out into the clearing, sniffing the air. It smells its next meal and turns in your direction, letting out a deafening roar.

  “Another emerges from the jungle at the other end of the plane, zeroing in on your location. It begins to snatch bodies from their seats, rending flesh from bone. It tosses the fresh meat into the back of its mouth as blood runs down its jowls. Strapped into your seat, you look on in horror.”

  Peter unconsciously fingered Lennox’s business card behind the screen, pulling at the corner with his index finger, bending it and letting it snap back.

  “What do you do?”

  The End
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br />   Read on for a free sample of Age of Monsters

  Chapter 1

  Everybody remembered where they were when the world ended.

  When you met them, that was always the first thing people told you – where they were – what they were doing. What it was like.

  Jonah certainly remembered where he had been – out fishing.

  He'd almost missed it.

  He had just come in from a day on the river, smelly and wet, stopping by the old general store, with nothing more on his mind than frying up his catch, and maybe stocking up a few supplies for the rustic mountain cabin he kept just north of town. He lived nestled high up in Oregon's Siskiyou Forest, and the market was the last post before open wilderness.

  The end of the world had been on TV.

  Jonah had been idly checking out the woman standing in-line in front of him – noticeably attractive, despite the deliberately frumpy flannel, heavy jacket, and worker's boots. Her hands were in her pockets, hiding her ring-finger, but the obvious effort to cover it all up suggested a married woman. Jonah was guessing a soldier's wife – a military bride accustomed to being on her own while her husband was deployed. You could tell she was used to fending off approving stares – although the one sideways glance she had spared to Jonah, with a brief, up-and-down appraisal, had also added the unconditional qualifier 'and out of your league'.

  The clerk was absent. They had been standing in line for a couple of minutes, and the man waiting at the counter, a big burly guy in a hunting jacket and a beard, was becoming impatient. He rapped his knuckles loudly on the counter.

  “Hey!” he shouted. “Anybody here?”

  The door to the back suddenly opened, and the elderly gentleman who ran the place on weekends looked out at them wide-eyed. Behind him, a small portable TV was blaring the news.

  “Oh Lord, I'm sorry folks,” the clerk said, making no move towards the register. He looked at the three of them blankly.

  “Oh my God,” he said. “You don't know what's happening?”