Alex Scarrow - Day of the Predator

Edward swallowed 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’ll buy you time.’

‘You… y-you’ll die!’

Howard nodded, smiled even. ‘Sure, I figured 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 kill 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’ll kill us all; it’ll destroy the 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 gracefully stepping over the uneven jungle floor towards them, their lean bodies bobbing with coiled energy.

‘Please…’ he hissed. ‘Please tell me you understand.’

Edward’s eyes met his. He was crying. ‘Yes… I p-promise. I promise!’

Howard ruffled 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 all 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 still 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, still off balance. The jagged blade caught something and the creature screamed.

Howard spun round and reached for Edward. ‘GO!’ he shouted, grabbing the scruff of his collar and pulling him forward. ‘GO, GO, GO!’ He pushed the boy forward with a rough punch to the small 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 small enough to make a better job of dodging the jungle obstacles. Howard turned his attention 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 fingering 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.

Just as long as the boy keeps his promise.

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 allowed to find its voice.

And that’s all that matters. Right?

Howard stared down the creature in front of him. ‘Mission completed,’ he uttered 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 shuffled and swayed with the arrival of the other two, ready to finish him off.

2001, New York

They returned to the archway and Forby wound the shutter down again.

‘So,’ said the man as he shouldered his assault rifle and cranked the handle. ‘What I don’t get is if this is still 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-off cluster of rounded huts on the muddy banks of Manhattan island. ‘A good question… and I’ll hazard a guess. They’re a dead-end branch of evolution.’

Forby looked at him. ‘Sir?’

‘Those things out there — ’ he flicked a finger out at the narrowing window of alternative world outside — ‘if they really 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 millions of years.’

‘Well, 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?’ Forby finished cranking the shutter down. The archway was dim once more, lit by the sterile fizzing glow of the ceiling tube light.

‘They plateaued,’ said Cartwright. ‘Perhaps their species evolved to the best it could possibly be. And then just stopped.’

Sal made a face. ‘I thought evolution never stopped. I thought it always changed, always, like, adapting.’

‘Oh, but it does and can stop,’ he replied. ‘There are species alive today that are virtually identical to their distant prehistoric ancestors — sharks, for example. Nature had evolved them to be perfect for their environment, perfect killing machines… why bother adapting any further?’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps in this world, those reptilian hominids out there are the dominant predator, with nothing to compete against… and have been that way for millions of years?

‘Evolution is nature’s way of problem solving. If something changes that challenges a species’ ability to survive, then that stimulates an adaptive response. If there’s nothing to challenge a species’ existence, then why would it ever need to change?’ Cartwright shrugged. ‘A dead-end of evolution.’

‘A dead-end world,’ echoed Forby.

They made their way across the dim archway. ‘On the other hand, maybe there’s some practical limit to how much smarter that species outside can get? Maybe those long heads are already too heavy to develop any greater cranial capacity?’

‘So their brains will never get any bigger?’

‘That’s right. And they’ll never do any better than spears, mud huts and dugout canoes.’

‘Well,’ said Maddy, approaching the desk, ‘whatever. We’ll never know, because those creepy-looking things weren’t meant to happen.’ She sat down at the computer desk. ‘Bob, how’re you doing with those candidate signals?’

› Analysis completed. The last 1,507 density soundings before you ordered me to cease the sweep indicated the immediate location was occupied by a permanent physical obstruction. This could be a natural intrusion, for example a fallen tree or a geological event.

‘So, before that?’ Maddy asked impatiently.

The others joined her at the desk.

› A total of 227 transient density warnings.

Cartwright squatted down beside her and studied the dialogue box. ‘That means what? So now you’re down to two hundred and twenty-seven possible locations for your friend?’