Primal Terra, page 17
“What...” Phil tried to ask a question, but whatever he was going to ask got lost.
Dickey roared with laughter. “They've answered my prayers...”
Those words caused chills to creep down Phil's spine.
“The Unseen. They've answered my calls. We're going home.”
Phil didn't know why, but he didn't trust a single word Dickey was telling them. He didn't know what was responsible for the glowing portal, those explosions of pink and teal stars, but he didn't resign to the fact that invisible beings of varying animal-like qualities were behind it all. Seeing was believing, and even though what he'd witnessed was magical to say the least, he didn't want to give into the notion of gods, superior beings that reigned above them all, floating entities in a cosmic existence.
“What is this?” Phil finally asked, the question unsticking from his mind.
“This is how we live now,” Dickey replied.
Phil didn't care for answers that were riddles, and let him know by elbowing him in the ribs. Hard. With enough force to knock the breath from him.
“Answer me, you crazy fuck.” He gripped Dickey by the neck and forced him onto his knees. “Answer the goddamn question. What are we looking at?”
“It's a portal,” Dickey said, spitting as he spoke. “It's a way off this lost planet.”
“Where does it lead?”
“Home. Wherever that is.”
Phil brought his knuckles down on Dickey's head. The punch probably hurt him more than it hurt Dickey, but it was enough to make the man's vision blur, he was sure of it. Dickey fell forward, onto his face. Grabbing the perp by the cuffs, Phil yanked him to his feet. He made sure to do so forcefully, stretching his arms back, putting the maximum amount of strain on the tendons in his shoulders. He hoped it hurt. A lot.
Phil crouched, placing his lips near Dickey's ear. “Listen to me, you insignificant piece of shit. I will not ask you again. Answer me, or I will feed you to this thing.”
As if the portal heard him, a fury of pink stars exploded before them. The translucent film that served as a border between two worlds bubbled with excitement. Phil couldn't shake the notion that the portal was alive, listening to their conversation. If it were human, he imagined a face anxious to eat, licking its lips, drool pooling at the corners of its mouth.
It wanted to consume them. Absorb them.
That's how it gets its power. It feeds on people.
Dickey had claimed to be an expert, a traveler of worlds. He'd been to many places, many times. And now, it seemed, this interdimensional travel had taken its toll on his mind. Phil wondered what a PET scan would reveal about Dickey's brain. He visualized a block of Swiss cheese, figuring it would closely resemble that.
These portals were feeding off Dickey. Off his mind.
The portals, or something else.
Phil's eyes were immediately drawn above the portals, to where Dickey had scrawled childish deceptions of ancient beasts—The Unseen.
“Answer me,” Phil repeated.
“They will not like it.” The portal stirred, agitated by Phil's question and Dickey's response. This conversation was obviously forbidden territory.
This planet is forbidden territory. This universe.
“You're feeding them, aren't you?” Phil stared at the portal, watched the thin barrier undulate like waking legs beneath cool bedsheets. Something was disturbed. Awoken. And it didn't like being so. “Not just souls or bodies or people. But something else.”
“They do not like that kind of talk.” Something changed in Dickey's face. Phil knew it at once—it was fear. Panic had hooked its claws into him. His eyes were feral, like a timid animal backed into a corner with no way out. It was only a matter of time before Dickey's survival instincts kicked in; then, Phil would have his hands full. He would need help from the girls.
“You're giving them bits of yourself. Of your knowledge. All these universes and time periods, all the things you've seen.”
Dickey shook his head. “I am the collector, I am the collector, I am the collector!”
The thin barrier of the portal stretched, as if something behind it were trying to break through. It pushed and pushed, but the elasticity of the semi-transparent film held firm.
It.
Whatever it was, it wanted free.
Phil didn't want to know. Didn't need to. Whatever was on the other side of that door, it wasn't home.
“You take things from places and you give it to them.”
“I am the collector, I am the collector, I AM THE COLLECTOR!”
The walls of the cave shook. Rocks the size of softballs fell from the ceiling, crashed down around them. Carla shrieked as she sidestepped a piece of rock the size of a volleyball. It hit the hardened dirt and broke apart on impact.
Jill stepped forward. “I think we should make a tree and get the fuck out of here.”
“One more minute,” Phil said, squeezing Dickey's head now, forcing him to look upon the horrors he was primarily responsible for. He directed his own eyes at the portal, the thing trying to push through and birth itself into this world. “You've done terrible things, Dickey. Jonesy was right about you. You were meddling with things far beyond your understanding. Anyone's, really. I don't know much of anything about this time travel, space junk—but I know whatever you've done, it's seriously fucking everything up.”
“I AM THE COLLECTOR!” he shouted in response. Two long streams of tears poured from his eyes. He let loose a long sound that reminded Phil of a cat getting its tail stepped on. Dickey wriggled in his clutches, trying his hardest to break free. “The Collector! I collect! They ask me to! I must! I gather and collect and in return, I go everywhere, do everything! I AM THE COLLECTOR!”
Phil didn't know what The Unseen made Dickey collect and he didn't care. Right now, all he knew was they should leave this place before the phantom-like figure broke free from its cage. The farther it stretched, the more adrenaline pumped through Phil's veins. Wouldn't be too much longer before the thing freed itself.
“All right, Dickey,” Phil said, loosening his grip. “Go to your masters. Be with them.”
He let go of Dickey's head, allowing him to stand on his own two feet. Dickey did so without hesitation. He raised his hands in the air, as if accepting the presence of some higher power. Then he started toward the portal, toward the thing struggling to get through to the other side.
Phil backed away. Jill and Carla followed his lead, backpedaling their way toward the exit. By the time they reached the only way out, Dickey had reached the mysterious figure, the outline of the creature attempting to come through.
“I am the collector,” he said one last time in a voice that sounded entirely unsure. In Dickey's final moment, he didn't seem very confident in his position in the universe.
The thing that stretched the fabric between worlds didn't seem to care. It grabbed Dickey, took him into its waiting arms, and absorbed him. Phil watched as the undulating surface engulfed the traveler (collector) and completely hid him from the world. Dickey surrendered to the cosmic being, allowing himself to disappear among the translucent blanket. Stars of varying pink tones popped and burst, showering the ground with sparkly dust.
“Let's get the hell out of here,” Phil said to the girls, getting to his knees. He helped them through the hole, waited for them to climb out before following them. He took one last glance at the portal before making his exit. The surface twisted and danced, finishing off its meal.
As Phil crawled toward the light, he doubted whether the beast within had been satiated by Dickey Marx.
He doubted it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“We're being hunted,” Tampa informed him, about three miles into their march through the jungle. He had the tracking device out, the blip on the map taking them through the deepest, almost impassable, parts of the jungle. Tampa didn't think they'd make it through, but he'd been wrong so far.
“What?” Jonesy said, whipping his head around. His eyes bulged with instant worry.
“Don't panic.” Tampa kept his free hand on the handle of the M-4. He'd picked up the tail about a mile back. Three Deinonychuses were stalking them, one from the rear and the other two flanking on either side. He wondered why they hadn't attacked yet—the numbers were in their favor. He wondered if stumbling upon their fallen brethren had anything to do with it. Maybe they were leery of engaging in a full-on attack. Maybe the M-4 swinging from his neck was the only thing keeping Tampa and Jonesy alive. Maybe the dinosaurs had learned a valuable lesson—their new prey was dangerous. It killed.
Yes, Tampa thought, we're certainly good at that.
“What do we do?” Jonesy's eyes darted back and forth, keeping close tabs on the surrounding ferns. He seemed ready to climb up the nearest tree.
“Right now, nothing.” He caught a glimpse of the feathery beast on their right. Through the layers of foliage, he spotted bright feathers moving silently amongst the jungle. Sweat dripped steadily from Tampa's brow, the panic in his chest tightening like a screw. He could turn on it, blast it to hell, but that would open him up for an attack from behind. Either way, he was screwed. The dinosaurs knew that. No matter which approach he took, they'd overpower him from the opposite direction. In fact, they were counting on it.
“Shit,” he said, his neck burning as the panic spread to other parts of his body. Compared to the shitty situations of his past, this one took the crown. He'd never felt so hopeless before. Death never felt so close. “They're flanking us. Waiting for us to make our move.”
“Dammit,” Jonesy snarled. “I think I see one of them.”
“Don't let them know we're onto them. Keep walking.”
“They could take us at any time.”
“Yes, they could. For some reason, they're waiting. I think it's because of the gun. They've seen what it can do.”
As they walked on, the distant hiss of rushing water became more distinct. Somewhere not far from their position rested a river or a waterfall, a body of water that Tampa immediately began to wonder if he could use to their advantage.
The Deinonychus on his right had fallen behind, but not by much. It was still there, lurking, waiting to make its move. Waiting to play out the kill.
“We don't have much time,” Tampa said. “I want you to pick up the pace, but not by much. Don't panic. Don't run. Just move faster. We don't want to clue the beasts in that we know they're on our trail.”
Jonesy did as Tampa instructed, and the two walked briskly toward the sound of agitated water. As the sounds became closer, they approached the edge of a cliff with about a thirty-foot drop to the bottom. Less than fifty feet beyond the craggy landing pad, the one that would likely snap their ankles and shred their skin apart if attempted, was the river about three parking spaces wide. It ran the opposite direction of a tall waterfall. The white water bubbled and churned the length of what they could see. Tampa followed the entire run of the river to another waterfall, this one leading into the foggy atmosphere below.
“What are you thinking?” Jonesy asked as the edge of the cliff grew closer with each step. Wouldn't be long before they reached it. A decision would have to be made, whatever it was. “We can't survive the drop,” he said, as if he read Tampa's mind.
“I wasn't thinking we should jump. Our legs would splinter.”
“I don't think our friends will let us walk around it. If they're gonna come for us, now would be ideal.”
“Agreed.” Tampa pocketed the tracking device, as if holding it any longer would sign his death certificate. “Get your weapon ready. We walk to the edge, and with no warning we take out the flankers. That will leave us with one. I think I can take it. Just make sure you take out your target.”
“Right or left?”
“I'll take the right.” The one on the right had made itself less visible while the left had been more careless. Tampa didn't trust Jonesy's shot, no matter what his reputation said. He might have been a war hero once and a big shot for the CIA, but that was years ago. An office job changed people, dulled their skills. Even if he'd been practicing at the range four hours a day for the last several years, Tampa still wouldn't bet the bank on Jonesy's accuracy. No, it was best to leave the more difficult shot for the seasoned killer.
Tampa readied for the maneuver, mentally and physically. About three steps to the edge, he shouted, “Now!”
He pivoted and raised his gun. The Deinonychus on the right leapt through the vegetation, screeching as it sailed through the air. Tampa aimed and pulled the trigger. The burst of gunfire knocked the predator out of the air and the dinosaur fell like the birds in his favorite classic video game—Duck Hunt. The predator landed on the rocks with a hard thud, and then floundered for a few seconds.
Tampa didn't waste any time; he'd already moved on from the injured creature and now focused his attention on the attack from the back. He turned in time to see the Deinonychus explode through the trees, its mouth open, anticipating the kill. It ran low to the ground, spreading its wing-like arms. Feathers detached from its body and floated in the air, reminding Tampa of the aftermath of a pillow fight, a colorful collection of quills that he might have enjoyed if they hadn't come from a seventy-million-year-old apex predator.
Tampa pulled the trigger, hitting the birdlike creature in the center of its skull. Its head disappeared behind a misty screen of blood. Lifeless, the Deinonychus dropped to the earth, dead on impact, and tumbled a few feet. Satisfied with the kill, he turned back to the injured mark, the creature who was trying to make its way to its feet, but having no such luck. Tampa pumped three more rounds into him, executing the prehistoric turkey.
Next, he spun toward Jonesy, who had handled his job well. A dead dinosaur lay at his boss's feet.
“Not bad for a semi-retired guy, huh?” Jonesy flashed him a satisfied grin, stepping over the giant dead bird, making sure to avoid the splash of blood that had pooled beneath the corpse.
Tampa wasn't having any of it. “We should move. There are still plenty of things out there that can eat us if we linger for too long.”
Truer words had never been spoken.
* * *
“I don't even know what the fuck I just saw,” Jill said, squeezing her cheeks as if checking to make sure her face was still there, if it hadn't been swallowed by the same shapeless entity that dragged Dickey into the void. “I mean... can either of you explain that shit?”
Phil and Carla didn't dare try. They hadn't spoken much since they left the cave twenty minutes ago. Their latest trek through the jungle had been filled with silence and listening to Jill trying to break up the quiet stroll with awkward conversation-starters. They were just trying to get through this, survive to the very end. Get home to their daughter.
At least they had something to go home to. Jill had nothing. She had the inside of her shitty apartment, her fish tank and the dozens of tropical fish she hardly took proper care of. How many had gone belly-up over the past two years? More than she could calculate on two hands, she guessed. No, she had nothing. No husband. No family. No boyfriend. Not even a steady hook-up, now that she thought of it.
God, I'm such a loser. She didn't realize how alone she was until she stopped to think about it. What would happen when she got home safely? What would change? Not much, she surmised. If the three of them survived, would Phil and Carla stay in touch? Would she make their Christmas card list? Definitely not. They'd be glad to watch her fade into their rearview mirror. Gone. Forgotten. Just like everyone else who flashed in and out of her life.
Before her dead mother could tell her I told you so, she filled in the silence the only way she knew how: “Ever wonder how a T. rex ties its shoes?”
No one replied. Not even an are-you-kidding-me sideways glance.
“Yeah,” she said, hanging her head, “me neither.”
For the first time since they landed in the jungle, they could see an opening through the trees. And not another field or valley, but an actual clear view. They saw the skies, a gentle blue backdrop. Behind the buzzing of insects and chirping of God-knew-what, the sounds of waves lapping against a sandy shore repeatedly whispered through the trees.
Phil and Carla turned to each other, excitement flooding their faces. Jill stared on, a little less enthused than her companions. Before she could react to the pleasant sounds coming from the coast, Phil and Carla were off, racing toward the shore.
“Okay then,” she said, continuing her leisurely pace.
She heard something move to her right, something big, something that bent branches with ease. She expected to see the massive cranium of a Tyrannosaur staring her down, ivory teeth stained with the gore of past meals. But that wasn't the case. Instead, a herbivore moved amongst the towers of trees, standing on its hind legs and eating the leaves within its grasp. She'd seen the species before and tried to recall what Kline had labeled it. A Para... para... Parasaurolophus. Yes, that was it. A gentle creature, Jude had informed them. It wasn't until then that she actually missed the man. His knowledge sure would have come in handy and undoubtedly increased their chance of survival.
As she reached the shore, Jill watched the skies. Birds with massive wingspans sailed through the air, entire clusters of them. From the ground, they only looked like black specks, and she wondered if every airborne creature belonged to the same genus, or if there were different species populating the airways. There were so many unknown things about this world. About this planet.
About this Earth.
If that was where they were. That was a topic of much debate, one she kept to herself. On one hand, they were clearly residing in a reality where dinosaurs stalked the earth. On the other side of the coin, there were temples. People living before the dinosaurs, existing alongside them. It didn't add up. Made no sense.
As a faint breeze tapped her face, she thought she'd drop the argument. In reality, it didn't matter where they were, only where they would end up.
Home.
