Primordia 3: The Lost World—Re-Evolution

by Greig Beck

  It watched the line of upright animals passing by it. They were just too large to swallow whole, which was its favorite attack method based on a mouth three feet across in a wedge-shaped head. But it also had the strength to attack larger prey and drag them under. It only needed to hold them down for a short while and then the water did the rest.

  It would then wedge them in among the twisted stilt-like roots of the swamp trees, and wait for the warmth and bacteria to soften the flesh enough for it to be pulled from the bones.

  The Mastodonsaurus’ short, strong legs and a thick paddle-like tail propelled it forward as it plotted an intercept course to set up an ambush.

  *****

  Shawna dropped back to walk beside Chess. “This is fucked up.” She grimaced as she took a hand off her gun to touch the back of her neck that was still heavily bandaged after the attack.

  “You got that right,” Chess said, letting his eyes move over the putrid water. Drake had told him to watch the trees as well, but he knew if there was going to be an ambush in here, it’d come from below the surface. He’d been in alligator-infested swamps before and he knew how they operated—get in close then finish their final run at you from under the water.

  Nicolás plodded along just in front of them, and Chess was happy for the young Venezuelan to act as their stalking horse.

  “Can’t see shit in here,” Shawna complained.

  “Sure can’t.” She was right; the mist hung over the water’s surface like a veil of gauze. Added to that, the water was the color of dirty coffee. And it was further obscured by bubbles and ripples, and other signs of things coming and going below the surface.

  That asshole Ben Cartwright was leading them into deeper and deeper water. Bad for them, but real good for any predators lurking about.

  Shawna sloshed closer. “I say we back out. Head home. We’ve got hundred grand each in the bank. Good enough.”

  Chess kept his eyes on the water as he spoke. “But I want a million. This is my retirement package.” He grinned. “Only reason I’m here.”

  “Yeah, well, ask Buster whether $100,000 would have been enough.” She sneered. “A dead millionaire is just dead.”

  He nodded. “I hear you, babe. But give it a few more hours. We’re nearly done here.” He turned. “Remember, we find this asshole or not, we get outta here and we’re rich. And it’s all over in another half day. You can suck it up for that long.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” she agreed. “But we gotta keep these guys alive as well.”

  He laughed, hoarsely. “Only the money man, Cartwright.”

  “Ri-iiight.” She visibly cheered at the thought.

  “And anyone else that gets to go bye bye, well that just adds a little more pressure to go home.” Chess slowed down and put a hand out, also slowing Shawna. “So let’s let these suckers get a little ahead.” He winked at her. “Bait.”

  “Ahh, now I get it.” She grinned. “And the more I get it, the more I like it.”

  Chess slowed them down even more as he caught sight of something. “Head’s up.”

  The group was now a few dozen paces ahead of them, with Nicolás just on half that.

  Then the attack came.

  The surge of water was followed by a scream and then Helen went under.

  *****

  Ben began to turn just as from the corner of his eye he noticed the V-shaped water movement. Even before he finished turning, the thing was launching itself from the water—all he had time to see was a massive mouth gaping open and snapping closed around Helen’s waist. There was a short scream, more like a squeak, as she was quickly taken under.

  From behind him, Nicolás also shouted his shock and fear in Spanish. Immediately, Ben saw the water moving again, this time in a lumped wave as the thing tried to get back to whatever den it lived in, but now taking Helen with it.

  Drake and Francis dived, and Ben raised his gun, but knew that with Helen in its mouth and Drake now also below the surface somewhere, if he didn’t have a clear target, he couldn’t dare fire a single round.

  He spun, yelling at the other two mercenaries at his rear, who just stood watching. “Get the fuck after them.”

  Francis came to the surface, shook the mud and grit from his eyes, and looked about. He then dived back under.

  Ben surged after the beast himself, but the going was slow as the water was at waist level now. Ben just prayed that the predator was territorial and big enough to keep others away. The amount of noise they were making would have attracted anything else for half a mile.

  “No shot!” Ben yelled and tried to run harder just as there came an explosion of water up ahead. The creature breached and Helen was still in its mouth, battering against the slimy, shovel-shaped head. But now Drake had both hands gripped around its paddle-like tail.

  The huge form of Francis came back up again gasping for air, but he had swum underwater in the wrong direction.

  Nicolás, who was closer, surged forward and dived then, grabbing Drake’s ankles, and the combined weight obviously created enough drag to cause the creature to spit the woman out and turn on Drake. Ben didn’t need a second invitation, and as soon as Helen came free, he fired.

  Before the massive amphibian had a chance to get its jaws around Drake, it had lifted itself out of the water, and then Ben’s high-powered shell entered the wide-open mouth, punching the glistening head back and blowing a fist-sized hole out the top of its skull.

  The shot echoed out over the brackish water and the massive beast rolled on its back, its stout legs bicycling and large taloned feet clutching at the air like webbed hands.

  Drake pushed it aside and raced to where Helen grimaced in the muddy water. He pulled her to him and wiped hair from her pain-wracked face. Ben charged closer and quickly turned to the mercs.

  “Keep a look out.”

  He then helped Drake lift Helen up out of the water and onto some exposed roots.

  She held her chest and breathed in and out rapidly through clenched teeth. She threw an arm out around Drake’s neck.

  “Thank you.”

  “I just thank God you’re safe. I’m going to take a look, okay?” He lifted her rapidly reddening shirt.

  Drake turned to Nicolás who was streaked in mud and his brown eyes, blinking probably in surprise at his own bravery. He slapped the young man on the shoulder.

  “Thanks, buddy.”

  Nicolás smiled weakly. “I feel sick.”

  “Makes two of us.” Drake went back to pulling Helen’s shirt away.

  Helen let him and looked away. “Is it bad?”

  Drake looked over the wounds and pressed various places on the ribs. She exhaled loudly when he did.

  “I don’t think you’ve got broken ribs. That’s good. But there’s a lot of lacerated skin in here.” He turned to Ben. “We need to get to dry land, clean this up, ASAP.”

  “I heard that.” He turned. “Chess, you and Francis get ahead, double time. Find us some dry land or a place out of this damned hellhole.”

  “You got it.” The pair waded ahead.

  Ben then turned to Shawna. “Keep your eyes open. And don’t shoot anyone.”

  *****

  In another hour, they finally managed to find the end of the swamp and Drake and Nicolás carried Helen up onto a dry bank.

  “Keep watch,” Ben ordered the mercenaries.

  The female merc’s jaws ground together for a second, but the three did as they were asked.

  Drake opened her shirt, and Helen sucked in air. The lacerations were mainly in two half-moons on both sides of her body where the thing had grabbed hold of her.

  “Take it off,” Ben asked.

  “Huh?” Helen frowned through her pain.

  “The shirt; its soaked in blood and I need to try and rinse it out.” He held out his hand.

  “Oh.” She let Drake help her peel out of the red and brown-streaked top, and Drake then tossed it to Ben.

  He went to the bank, took one
last look out at the water, and then dipped it in, rinsing and wringing it several times to flush it out. It came out covered in fine silt, but at least much of the blood odor would be gone.

  Ben dunked it one last time and held it out. He began to brush the slime from it and saw the wriggling creatures dotting it—they looked like tiny crustaceans, like isopods, and he hoped that they weren’t some sort of parasite, as there was no doubt they’d be in Helen’s wounds.

  Give us a break, will you? he whispered. He shook the shirt hard, flicking them away.

  When he got back, he saw that Drake was wiping out the wounds and squeezing iodine into them. Helen sucked air in and out quickly, as it must have stung like a bitch and probably felt like she was being seared.

  “You do know that you’re the only person alive today who was bitten by a prehistoric salamander?” Ben half smiled as he handed her the cleaned shirt.

  She started to chuckle, but then pressed a hand to her ribs. “Helen, meet Mr. Mastodonsaurus, and vice versa.” She reached out a hand to Drake. “Did I thank you for not letting me be the only person in history who was taken away to be eaten by a prehistoric salamander?”

  He smiled as he worked on her. “Buy me a drink when we get home.”

  She squeezed his arm. “You said that last time. Next thing I knew, you had me in bed.”

  He shrugged. “What can I say, I’m pretty charming like that.”

  Ben cleared his throat. “Nothing like being attacked by a monster to reignite the flame of love.” He looked above them. There was a small break in the tree canopy overhead. “Well, what do you know?” He could just make out the small eyebrow-like streak directly above them. “Primordia,” he whispered. “It’ll probably be at its closest point now.”

  “Yep.” Drake followed his eyes. “And that means, it’ll be heading away soon.”

  “Yeah.” Ben opened his pack and took out a squat pistol. He cracked it open and loaded a stout brass plug into it. He then aimed for the hole in the branches above them and fired. The plug streaked away and then high above them it exploded in a red star that began to settle slowly toward the earth.

  “Time to let our prodigal son know we’re here.” He lowered his arm.

  “Come on, Andy,” Helen breathed as she sat up. “Come home, little brother.”

  *****

  The red flower bloomed high over his head. It seemed so strange, so incongruous, that something so modern could be appearing over a prehistoric jungle. Over his prehistoric jungle.

  “Oh wow.” Andy smiled as he said the words. “She came.”

  “Gluck.”

  He shook his head. “Oh, you told me so, did you?”

  Andy tried to plot where the flare had risen. Not that far, he guessed.

  As the small red star fell back to Earth, the pale blue sky was left unmarked save for a small eyebrow streak just up and to the left. He continued to stare at the streak that was like a single artist’s brushstroke that seemed to hang there, locked in place. But he knew that the celestial body would be moving at hundreds of miles per second.

  “That’s my sister’s ride—she just got dropped off.” He peeked into his bag. “You’ll like her.”

  “I know I will; will she like me?”

  “Of course she’ll like you.” He grinned and shut the bag.

  Before he ventured further, he found a small area of mushy ground and took a few moments to lather on some more mud. He carefully coated every inch of his body, paying attention to his groin and under his arms and anywhere else that his scent was strongest. Though humans didn’t have scent glands, bacteria combined with sweat gave them a distinctive pungent odor. It was this odor that predators homed in on.

  He faced the thick jungle, aiming himself toward where he suspected the flare was fired from, and then began to burrow in. He moved through hanging vines and under huge spiked cycad fronds, and also past rice-bubble-spotted tree trunks.

  Up on the plateau, the climate was slightly cooler than in the valleys, but it was still damp and humid. It would have been easier going out in the clearings, but the chance of being spotted and run down was too great for the small benefit of drawing some clean air.

  Andy estimated he had about a half mile to cover. Any normal place, it’d take him less than an hour. Here, it’d be more like 3 or 4 times that.

  His lips moved silently as he burrowed on: “Silence is the key, silence is the key.” And then: “Because the bad things live up here.”

  He got down on all fours to slither through a tunnel in the brush, and then slowed. Maybe the bad things are us, he thought, and felt like he’d been struck by a thunderbolt. We’re the bad things.

  He crawled on for several more minutes before this time freezing as another thunderbolt struck him.

  The Titanoboa fossils were only ever found deep in caves and mines of South America. And he had never encountered them once in his travels anywhere except here.

  What if they were more rare than anyone really knew? What if these were the total breeding population that ever existed? What if these were the last?

  And then: How many have we killed?

  CHAPTER 47

  Something is out there.

  The pair of three-fingered hands slowly pulled the foliage aside to watch the line of bipeds pass by. The pack leader knew they were clumsy, loud, and soft. But they had stingers that sounded like thunder and killed in a blink.

  The Troodon pack leader made clicking sounds, and guttural coughs and squeaks, telegraphing the information to its pack. More heads poked through the green wall to watch.

  Their hunting party was 20-strong, and they needed meat. They were always successful on their hunts and had many animals to choose from on the plateau. But this day, they had chosen to target the bipeds for another reason—revenge.

  Their brood nests had been decimated just as the hatchlings were due to commence. Blood would be had, as well as meat.

  The pack leader saw how the line of bipeds was strung out, and how they seemed to tend to the injured member of their group. It decided on a strategy and then pulled back to organize their attack.

  *****

  Drake, Ben, and Helen led them out. Ben tried to watch everywhere at once as the jungle was thickening and turning into pathways that were more like green tunnels that bored through a near impenetrable green tangle.

  Drake helped Helen who was full of painkillers and wrapped in bandages but was so far managing okay. Ben hated that there were blood spots on her shirt and it told him that her wounds were still leaking—open wounds meant blood and that meant the smell of a wounded animal wafting through the jungle to any hungry predators.

  Chess and Francis were just behind a few paces back, and then came Shawna and Nicolás, who was once again carrying much of the blonde merc’s pack. He didn’t care anymore, and frankly, right now he’d prefer one of the mercs to be hands-free rather than the kid.

  Ben held up a hand and the team halted. A few moments back, the jungle had fallen silent and Ben half turned, pointed to his eyes, and then to the foliage. Every single one of them looked from one side to the other and then also overhead.

  Ben looked for odd shapes, eyes, or anything unusual, but he knew that the things that hunted in this primordial place had evolved millions of years of natural camouflaging abilities that rendered them near invisible.

  “You think we got company?” Drake whispered.

  “Yep, and the jungle thinks so too,” Ben replied.

  “Can’t see a damn thing,” Chess hissed. “You’ve stopped us in a freaking kill-box, Cartwright—walls all around. Keep moving until we find some open space.”

  Ben turned to the pathway ahead. They’d been moving along some sort of animal track, but it was impossible to know if it opened out further along, and in fact, to him it looked to close in even more just up ahead of them.

  “Captain Cartwright?” Francis’ deep voice sounded apprehensive and the big man was looking above them. “You think it
might be those tinyboa monsters?”

  “Don’t know,” Ben said. “But something is out there.”

  “There’s nothing.” Chess eased forward, held the muzzle of his gun out, and used it to part the curtain of hanging vines in front of them. At about waist level, hanging just inside the dark green hole he had just opened, he exposed a boxy head with ruby red eyes and a weird grin full of needle teeth.

  “Jesus.” He dropped the vines and went to aim his weapon as the jungle exploded around them.

  “Troodon!” Helen yelled.

  One of the small dinosaurs flew from the jungle to land on Chess’ front. Even though the big man was more than twice as heavy as the 100-pound creature, it knocked him backward. Other Troodon swarmed from the jungle walls, and a small group broke away and headed straight for Helen.

  Perhaps it was the smell of blood, or due to her being a smaller target, but in the blink of an eye, they’d knocked her down and began to drag her away.

  Drake lifted his gun and blew a hole in one of them, as the remaining few dragged the woman down the path. Drake sprinted after them, firing as he went.

  Ben and Francis set off after them as well, as their world became filled with clicks, squeaks, and hissing, as well as yells of furious human beings and the blasts of shotguns.

  Strangely, no Troodon followed them, and as Ben, Drake, and Francis closed in on Helen, and just as Ben raised his gun to fire, the creatures dragging the woman dropped her, peeled off left and right, and immediately vanished.

  Drake was first to Helen who lay flat for a moment, her clothing shredded where they hung onto her. From well back now, they still heard Chess yelling, the booms of shotgun blasts and the hellish squeals of the Troodon making for a madhouse cacophony.

  “Keep watch,” Ben said to the towering Francis, who immediately swung to scan the jungle while keeping his gun in tight at his shoulder. Ben knelt beside Drake and Helen. “How is she?”