Day of the Predator by Alex Scarrow
‘I’ve seen enough. We should go back inside,’ said Maddy. ‘There’s work to be done.’
‘Don’t you want to learn more?’ asked Cartwright. She shrugged. ‘Why? If we’ve managed to get lucky and locate Liam … then none of this wil ever have happened.’
She looked at Forby, who seemed relieved at the idea of heading back. ‘Be pointless learning anything about these things real y … if you think about it. They soon wil belong to the world of Never Were.’
Cartwright made a face, a mixture of disappointment and frustration. ‘Al right,’ he conceded. ‘Let’s get on with it.’
CHAPTER 65
65 mil ion years BC, jungle
‘Did you hear that?’ said Laura, her eyes round with fear. They’d heard it al right. Although the jungle was soon due to stir with its concert of nocturnal cries and cal s, the sun had only just slipped from the sky, leaving behind thin combed cirrus clouds stained a coral pink from its waning light. The jungle was on the turn, the stil ness between those that lived in the day and those that prowled the night.
But there it was again. A desperate female cry for help. It was one of the four they’d left behind, either Keisha Jackson or Sophia Yip.
‘… Please … help me …’
‘It’s Keisha!’ said Jasmine. She turned to the others. ‘It is! It’s Keisha!’
‘Which direction did it come from?’ asked Liam. It wasn’t far o , somewhere within the apron of jungle around their clearing. Could be coming from any direction, the mischievous way voices seemed to bounce around.
‘… Help … it hurts …’
‘We have to go help her!’ said Edward.
‘Negative,’ said Becks. ‘The hominids could stil be on the island.’
the island.’
Laura’s eyes darted back to the nger on the ground. The light was get ing dim enough for it to be almost, merciful y, easy to overlook. ‘Could be?’ she exclaimed.
‘They’re h-here, al right.’
‘Or they’ve been and gone,’ added Whitmore. He looked at Liam. ‘We’ve got to go help the poor girl! She could be dying!’
‘… Please …’
Whitmore nodded across the clearing. ‘It came from over there.’ He grabbed a spear and turned to the others.
‘I’l need help lifting her.’
Edward grabbed a spear and joined him. Howard and Juan did likewise.
‘OK,’ said Liam, ‘go get her.’ He turned to Laura, Akira and Jasmine. ‘We need this re going again. Can you see to that? Big re, al right? Big as you can make it.’ They both nodded. ‘And, Becks, we need that windmil contraption running.’
She nodded. ‘A rmative.’
‘And, al of you,’ he cal ed out, particularly to Whitmore and the others already jogging in the direction they hoped to nd Keisha, ‘al of you, stay close together! No one goes on their own!’
He watched them go, four of them al armed with spears. In the jungle on their way back from laying down their clay tablets, they’d been in nitely more vulnerable to ambush, and yet the creatures had warily held back …
only jumping Kel y, he presumed, because he’d been only jumping Kel y, he presumed, because he’d been entirely on his own.
He looked anxiously around the clearing. The girls were just a dozen yards away working on the re, and Becks merely thirty yards from him, busy trying to re-jig the windmil . Liam tried to think quickly. He wasn’t exactly alone here in the middle of the clearing, but he’d have felt happier having another one or two people standing right beside him. His eyes darted to the dark entrances of a couple of the nearby lean-tos, the smal gateway to their palisade, possible hiding places. Possibly containing one or two of them.
Liam. Stay calm, Liam. Stay calm.
Broken Claw watched the new creatures approach. Four of them armed with their kil ing sticks.
He turned to the others, crouched nearby, and softly hissed for them to make ready. He turned towards the younger one, crouched next to him. The youngest ones of the pack were best at this particular skil – mimicking the cal s of wounded prey – their voice-boxes being smal er, al owing them a much higher pitch, the shril pitch of fear and desperation.
He clacked his claws gently, instructing the young one to do it once again.
The young female’s jaw opened, and her tongue and voice skilful y reproduced the cries the female new creature had been making earlier today as she lay dying from a fatal stomach wound.
from a fatal stomach wound.
‘… Help me … please …’
They changed direction, veering directly towards Broken Claw and the others, just a few dozen yards away now, stepping out of the clearing and into the darkness of the jungle. The new creatures seemed to have absolutely no sense of how close to danger they were, their smal seemingly ine ective noses unable to detect the smel s that l ed Broken Claw’s nasal cavity: the smel of excitement from his pack, the smel of anticipation of a ne kil , the smel of their dark-skinned female brethren lying dead amid the ferns nearby – bled out hours ago.
How could they not smel any of this?
These creatures were either foolish or incapable of sensing al the warning signals in the air around them, stumbling blindly. Certainly – he understood this now –
nothing for his pack to be wary of any more. He’d learned enough about them: that they were as vulnerable as the larger plant-eaters they usual y hunted, more vulnerable, in fact, since they had neither their weight or strength to throw around.
And now … Broken Claw and several of the stronger males in his pack now possessed sticks-that-kil . The four long digits on each of his hands tightened round the thick bamboo shaft. Broken Claw was determined to use his stick-that-kil s on one of them as he had that older male earlier this morning up in the hil s. A fascinating way of delivering death. An intriguing tool of death.
Juan stopped and pointed at a splotch of drying blood on the back of a broad waxy leaf.
‘Keisha!’ he cal ed out. ‘You here?’
The four of them stood perfectly stil , listening to the gentle hiss of shifting leaves above them and the fading echo of Juan’s voice.
‘Keisha!’ he cal ed out again.
Then, very softly, not a crying-out voice trying to be heard across acres of jungle, but a soft whimpering closeby murmur. ‘… Please … help me …’
‘Where are you?’ asked Whitmore. ‘We can’t see you!’
‘… Help me …’
‘Where are you, Keisha? Can you see us?’
‘… Please … please …’
Juan cocked his head. ‘That don’t sound like her, man.’
Edward nodded. ‘She sounds kind of funny.’
‘… Sophia … run …’
Whitmore’s eyes narrowed. ‘Keisha?’
‘… They kil ed Jonah …’
Juan looked silently at the others. His face spoke for him. That real y isn’t her.
Whitmore nodded and then slowly placed a nger to his lips. He waved his hands at them to back up the way they’d come. Fifteen … twenty yards of jungle, that’s al , then they’d be out in the clearing again.
They’d just begun to careful y retrace their steps when Juan suddenly convulsed, burping a trickle of blood down Juan suddenly convulsed, burping a trickle of blood down the front of his varsity sweatshirt. He looked slowly down at the six inches of sharpened bamboo tip that protruded from his bel y.
‘Oh … oh, man …’ was about al he could say before his eyes rol ed and his legs buckled beneath him. Crouching behind Juan’s col apsed form was one of the bipedal creatures, its long head cocked with curiosity and its yel ow eyes marvel ing at the spear in its hands.
‘RUN!’ screamed Whitmore to the other two. ‘IT’S A TRAP!’
Howard and Edward turned on their heels to head back towards the clearing, only to face another pair of those creatures, springing seemingly out of nowhere. Howard lunged quickly with his spear, catching one of them in the thigh
‘GO!’ screamed Howard, pushing Edward away from the creatures. Meanwhile, Whitmore found himself trapped by a closing circle of four of them.
‘You r-real y … are … c-clever … aren’t you?’ he found himself babbling through trembling lips. A couple of them were holding spears just like he was holding his. ‘My GGod … you’ve learned f-fast … haven’t you?’
The creature that had speared Juan stepped over his body and approached Whitmore with an unset ling raptorlike bobbing movement. The creature barked an order to some more of its kind hiding in the undergrowth and Whitmore heard the thud of feet and the swish of branches icked aside as several set o in pursuit of the other two icked aside as several set o in pursuit of the other two boys.
Now it cocked its head, its yel ow eyes drinking him in, eyes that burned with intel igence and curiosity and a thousand questions it probably wanted to ask, but hadn’t yet developed a sophisticated enough language to know how to ask.
‘I … I know … you can c-communicate …’ Whitmore babbled, his man’s voice broken and mewling now like a child’s. ‘S-s-so … can w-we. W-we’re the s-same. Y-you,’ he said slowly, pointing a shaking nger towards the creature.
‘M-me … me,’ he said, gesturing to himself. ‘We’re the ssame!’
Its long head protruded forward on the end of a fragile, almost feminine, neck.
‘Th-the same … the same,’ whimpered Whitmore.
‘Intel i-intel igent.’
Whitmore was only vaguely aware of his bladder let ing loose, a warm trickle running down his left leg and soaking his sock. A smal detail. A faraway detail. Right in front of his own face, only inches away, his world was this bony carapace of another face and yel ow piercing reptile eyes that seemed to grow ever larger.
Its jaw snapped open, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth and a twisting, leathery black tongue that furled and unfurled like an angry snake in a cage.
Whitmore let go of his spear and it clat ered to the ground between them. ‘Do … d-do you s-see? No n-no harm. I m-mean y-you no h-harm!’
harm. I m-mean y-you no h-harm!’
The tongue twisted and coiled and Whitmore heard an odd facsimile of his own voice coming right back at him.
‘… No h-harm … the s-same …’
He nodded. ‘Y-yes! Y-y-es! W-we-we’re intel i–’
Whitmore felt a punch to his chest. It winded him – like a medicine bal launched at his thorax. He gasped, spat ering a ne spray of blood on to the creature’s expressionless face. He would have doubled over from the blow, but claws from behind were holding him up on his feet. The yel ow eyes inches in front of him looked down at something. Al of a sudden, feeling oddly dizzy and lightheaded, he decided the polite thing was to do the same.
And there it was in the palm of the creature’s hand, his own heart stil dutiful y beating away.
CHAPTER 66
65 mil ion years BC, jungle
Howard and Edward stumbled through the jungle, skirting the clearing but unable to get to it because one of the creatures was deliberately blocking them.
‘Clever,’ wheezed Howard. Keeping them bot led up here amid tree trunks and dangling loops of vine, it prevented them making big sweeping strikes with their spear and hatchet; the blade or shaft was bound to get tangled or caught on something.
One beast was behind them and another to their left, preventing them from making their way to the encircling river … not that they’d be able to go anywhere. The pursuer behind them could easily have caught up, but he remained a steadfast dozen yards behind. He realized then that they were just wearing them out, pursuing the pair of them through the tangled undergrowth until they were certain they were spent and unable to o er much of a ght.
Howard stopped. Edward, who’d been supporting his weight on the right leg, gasped. ‘Uh? We got to run!’
Howard shook his head, nding his breath. ‘No …
they’re playing with us. Herding us.’
Al three of the hominids pursuing them came to a halt Al three of the hominids pursuing them came to a halt a dozen yards away on each side and waited patiently for their next move, yel ow eyes peering at them through thin veils of dangling, looping vines.
Howard nodded to the clearing, the edge of it fty yards to their right. The creature blocking that way had ducked down out of sight. ‘That’s the way we should be heading.’
Edward swal owed nervously. ‘But … one of th-those –’
‘I know.’ He sucked in breath again. ‘He’s in there somewhere … but you have to make a break for it, run for the palisade.’
‘What about you?’
He shook his head. ‘I won’t make it … I can’t run … I’l buy you time.’
‘You … y-you’l die!’
Howard nodded, smiled even. ‘Sure, I gured that.’
Edward grabbed his arm. ‘We c-can both run!’
‘Don’t argue. There isn’t time for this. Listen.’ He grabbed the boy’s shoulder. ‘Run, save your life. Make it back home. But promise me something.’ He glanced over Edward’s shoulder; one of the creatures was shifting position, impatient for a kil and stepping closer. ‘Promise me to dedicate your talent to something else … not time travel, Edward … anything but time travel!’
Edward’s eyes were on the other two creatures.
‘Promise me!’
He nodded. ‘Yes! Y-yes … OK!’
‘No time travel, Edward. It’l kil us al ; it’l destroy the world … God help us, perhaps even the universe. Do you world … God help us, perhaps even the universe. Do you understand?’ he said, shaking the boy’s shoulder. The creatures inched warily closer, long athletic legs graceful y stepping over the uneven jungle oor towards them, their lean bodies bobbing with coiled energy.
‘Please …’ he hissed. ‘Please tel me you understand.’
Edward’s eyes met his. He was crying. ‘Yes … I ppromise. I promise!’
Howard ru ed his hair. ‘Good.’ He took the hatchet in one hand and grasped the spear in the other.
‘Now, when I say,’ he said softly, ‘you run, Ed. You run for al it’s worth. You understand?’
The boy nodded.
Howard could see the creature between them and the clearing now. Its head bobbed up and ducked behind a large fern, no longer trying to hide, but clearly stil very wary of them.
Good. Then he’d take advantage of that.
‘Ready?’ he whispered.
Edward nodded silently. His cheeks shone with tears; his lips clamped shut, trembling.
Without any warning Howard roared ‘Waaarrghhhh!’
and charged forward towards the creature cowering behind the fern. The creature leaped back, an almost comical bunny hop of surprise as Howard crashed through the undergrowth towards it. He stumbled through a cluster of ferns, swinging his hatchet at the creature as it recoiled, stil o balance. The jagged blade caught something and stil o balance. The jagged blade caught something and the creature screamed.
Howard spun round and reached for Edward. ‘GO!’ he shouted, grabbing the scru of his col ar and pul ing him forward. ‘GO, GO, GO!’ He pushed the boy forward with a rough punch to the smal of his back.
Edward scrambled past the writhing creature, across a dozen yards of stunted plants and thinning saplings, ducking loops of thorny vines that promised to snarl his throat like barbed wire.
The boy was fast and agile and smal enough to make a bet er job of dodging the jungle obstacles. Howard turned his at ention to the creature beside him, snapping and clacking teeth as it got to its feet and warily circled him, leaking dark blood from the gash on its leg. I’m ready for this, he told himself. I’m ready for this. I’m ready. I’m ready. I’m ready to die.
His mantra back in the lab, back when he was approaching Edward Chan and ngering the gun in his bag. He’d been ready to die then for a cause only a few seemed to truly understand. He was just as ready to die now.
There was no knowing, but instinct, hope … told Howard that Edward had seen enough of the nightmare of time travel for himself to know that his unique talent could never be al owed to nd its voice.
And that’s al that mat ers. Right?
Howard stared down the creature in front of him. Howard stared down the creature in front of him.
‘Mission completed,’ he ut ered to himself with a growing smile spread across his boyish face.
‘Come on, then, ugly,’ he said, advancing on the thing just as the leaves behind him shu ed and swayed with the arrival of the other two, ready to nish him o .
CHAPTER 67
2001, New York
They returned to the archway and Forby wound the shut er down again.
‘So,’ said the man as he shouldered his assault ri e and cranked the handle. ‘What I don’t get is if this is stil a version of the year 2001 how come those dino-humans out there aren’t a lot more advanced?’
Maddy and Sal looked at each other. ‘I dunno,’ said Maddy. ‘I’m no anthropologist.’
‘It’s a good question, Forby,’ said Cartwright. He turned round and crouched to get one last look out at the rainforest version of the Hudson River delta, and the far-o cluster of rounded huts on the muddy banks of Manhat an island. ‘A good question … and I’l hazard a guess. They’re a dead-end branch of evolution.’
Forby looked at him. ‘Sir?’
‘Those things out there –’ he icked a nger out at the narrowing window of alternative world outside – ‘if they real y are the direct descendants of some species that survived the end of the Cretaceous era, a species that somehow survived as a result of something that’s been changed –’ he looked at the girls – ‘by your friend, then they’ve been around for tens of mil ions of years.’
they’ve been around for tens of mil ions of years.’
‘Wel , that’s exactly my point, sir. How come they aren’t light-years more advanced than humans? How come there isn’t some gigantic lizard version of Futurama out there?’