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  The Umazoa thought that they had angered the gods, which resulted in this reptilian plague upon their tribe. They also believed Peter was imbued with the power of the sun, which they regarded as a deity, to right their wrongs. Peter, of course, had tried to explain to them what had happened, but much was lost in translation, and the Umazoa were resolute in their beliefs.

  The entrance to the temple was dark, so Peter unbuttoned his shirt, allowing the glowing orbs in his chest to illuminate the way. The bushes rustled behind him and two lizard men darted out, dashing towards him. However, Peter was unconcerned as they shoved past him to enter the temple, leaving him unharmed. Peter smiled to himself.

  He broke into a jog, attempting to keep pace with them. He remembered the room with the intertwining paths of multi-colored tiles and the side doors that unleashed velociraptors, as well as the Dilophosaurus cave. Surely, there was a more direct way to the lizard men’s den.

  He followed them to the door with the reptilian face crudely painted on it. They entered the room with the tiled paths, but instead of taking the paths, one-by-one, they jumped into the pit. Peter watched them, smiling. He knew this wasn’t suicide. To be sure, he reached out and sensed their life forces, like lanterns in the dark.

  Peter walked to the edge of the pit, keeping one eye on the side passages for any velociraptors. He felt their presence behind the rolling stone doors, waiting for a meal. He leaned over the edge of the chasm before him and squinted to see in the darkness, crouching for a closer look. There it was, a narrow shelf clinging to the sheer wall of the cliff. He reached out and felt their essences move away, and when they were far enough, he lowered himself down.

  Clinging to the wall so as not to fall into the chasm, he side-stepped his way to a tunnel entrance. He thought of his tabletop role-playing gaming and smiled again—search for hidden passages. He entered the tunnel, using the two orbs that resided in his chest to illuminate the way. He crept along as it sloped downward, and he sensed the den of lizard men in the distance.

  Before long, he was in the room with the massive pitcher plants. He looked up at the holes in the rock cavern above, remembering the horror of the Dilophosaurus cave. He walked around to the opening with the reptilian carving depicting the large, obsidian eyes and passed through. The subterranean city was drawing closer. He felt it, and the orbs in his chest pulsated in response.

  He passed the reptilian statues and descended the stairs that led to the city below. The last time he saw these stairs, they were covered in dust from sitting unused for ages. This time, there was no dust. As he descended, he saw them—hundreds of lizard men traversing the city, walking the streets, entering and leaving buildings.

  When he reached the bottom, two sentries grasping long spears guarded the entrance. However, when they saw Peter, they parted, allowing him admittance. They watched him with those large, black eyes, their faces cold and expressionless, except for the occasional flaring of the dewlaps on their throats. Their bodies, however, emanated heat. Peter mused how reptiles—at least in this dimension—must’ve evolved from these progenitors, becoming cold-blooded as an adaptation to living above ground in the sunlight in warm climates.

  As he walked the streets, Peter sensed life all around him, but he was seeking out one life in particular—the chief. Unfortunately, his newfound powers didn’t provide him the ability to distinguish between beings. He kept an eye out for a prominent building, one that looked like it might house the tribal chief.

  The subterranean city looked different from the last time Peter saw it. Prior, when he had first discovered the orb of life, it was barren. Now, various multi-colored, floating orbs illuminated bustling streets. The lizard men had wasted no time in rebuilding. As he looked around, Peter wondered at their actual numbers.

  He also wondered if he should have spent more time down here after reawakening this ancient race. He had figured he’d leave them alone to reacquaint themselves with an island that had moved on in their absence. He had believed a policy of non-interference was best, respectful even. Now, he realized his folly. His absence had made him less of a presence in these reptilian beings’ lives.

  Although he was viewed as a deity amongst them, the lizard men’s concept of piety was somewhat unusual, at least to Peter. They acknowledged him, but chose to remain aloof. The distant clockmaker, he had set their civilization in motion and left them to their own devices, and now he was repaid in kind. This reaction, however, was preferable to the savage violence they typically greeted other humans with.

  He paused at an intersection, where a black orb floated above the ground at waist height. Passersby would swipe a three-clawed hand over it, pausing, and moving on. Peter knew that the orbs served to transmit information. He figured if he touched one, it might provide a clue as to the whereabouts of the chief. He reached out, the two orbs in his chest brightening, and touched the top of the black orb with the palm of his right hand.

  Visions conjured in his mind’s eye of news, prominent figures, and ideas that he wasn’t quite able to translate into human terms. Knowing he could interact with the orbs, he reached out with his mind, asking the orb about the chief in the best way he knew how. Countless visions toggled through his mind, and he swooned. Overwhelmed, he staggered but kept his hand on the orb. Finally, when it became too much, he released the orb, pulling back his hand. His surroundings blurred and his head rang as he tried to regain his bearings.

  When his vision cleared, he was startled to find that the lizard men around him had stopped what they were doing and were staring at him, silent and statuesque, the way reptiles could voluntarily slow down bodily functions to attain an eerie stillness.

  Peter looked around, wondering if he was in any danger. As if in answer to his silent query, a detail of what was apparently some kind of town guard approached him, spears in-hand but held point facing upwards. The throng of onlookers parted to let them through.

  Peter realized he must’ve transmitted his desire to meet with the chief, and this was to be his escort. As if reading his realization, they turned and walked away from him in formation, and he knew he was to follow. As he marched behind them, onlookers continued to gawk in their cold, expressionless way with large, black eyes reflecting the crystalline illumination, and Peter’s mind raced to decide how he was going to address the reptilian chief.

  Chapter 2

  Tracey stepped into the cafeteria at the off-shore oil rig for the second time in her life. She was exhausted from the long flight, and she had never been able to sleep well on planes. The room was already filled with various Poseidon Tech employees.

  She walked over to a metallic table holding coffee decanters and grabbed a paper cup. She poured herself a cup of coffee, adding two artificial sweetener packets and a dash of powdered milk. She bypassed the finger sandwiches and found a seat at a table next to a woman approximately her age. She was dressed in a beige blouse and khaki pants, and her straight brown hair hung over part of her face as she pored over her notes on her laptop.

  When she felt Tracey sit on the bench next to her, she looked up and smiled. “Hi.”

  Tracey returned the smile. “Hi.” She looked around the room. At the front, a man stood, reviewing something on his laptop, the same laptop the woman seated next to her used, no doubt Poseidon Tech standard issue. Tracey figured he was the team leader. Fresh meat for the grinder. “So, what are we waiting for?”

  The woman looked up. “We’re waiting for a private consultant, some paleontologist who has experience on the island.”

  Tracey smiled. “Oh, wow. I can only imagine what she must’ve seen on that island.”

  “I know,” replied the woman. “Isn’t it wild?”

  “That’s a good word for it.” She extended her hand, “Tracey.”

  The woman shook it. “Marcy, data engineer.”

  “Data…engineer.”

  Marcy smirked. “Yeah, nothing as exotic as a paleontologist, but someone has to collect and crunch the data
.”

  Tracey leaned in, looking from side to side. “From what I hear, the data on this island will crunch you.”

  Marcy shook her head. “The last time was a trial run. This time, there’s going to be more security.”

  Tracey frowned. ‘Trial run?’ She figured Marcy didn’t know that the last expedition was not the first. It may have not even been the second or third, for that matter. Poseidon Tech apparently kept many of their employees in the dark. “Let’s hope so. Many people died last time.”

  Marcy looked startled by that last revelation. Before she could respond, the man up front looked up from his laptop and saw Tracey. He cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s begin. We don’t have much time before the island phases out, so time is of the essence.”

  The din quieted down, except for the occasional cough and throat clearing, and all eyes were on the man up front.

  “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Trevor Nielsen. I’m the team leader of this operation, and what I’m about to tell you will likely save your life. So, you’d better pay close attention.”

  People in the room traded glances, and murmured to each other. Nielsen let the weight of his words hang out there for effect before continuing. “Risk analysis from the last expedition has been compiled to provide a comprehensive threat assessment…although all of you have read the debriefing, some of what you’re about to hear may still shock you. But, for the safety of this expedition, we must take these threats seriously.”

  He paused, looking around the room. Tracey thought he looked like a principal scolding a classroom of children. “The island is unstable. Not only does it phase in and out of this dimension, it emits energy that can interfere with scanning. It’s played havoc with our satellites and radar. However, it is inconsistent. The EMI waxes and wanes, and it is during the troughs that we have obtained what little surveillance data we have remotely. However, the most reliable way to gather data is on the island itself.

  “We do not expect the containment field to hold up.” The murmurs started again, louder than before. “That’s right, folks. We totally expect to be cut-off once on the island. Not permanently, of course. This isn’t a one-way ticket. Our technicians, guided by data transmitted from our vessels circling the island, will do their best to raise a stable containment field when possible. However, our focus will be on the island.

  “Once we land on the island, there are a variety of threats coming from indigenous flora and fauna. Firstly, I have provided you with a detailed list of dangerous plant life, as related by a botanist from the last expedition. There are plants that sting, plants that paralyze, and toxic plants that can kill with the slightest contact with the skin. Our expedition will have two scouts who will identify any of these known threats so they may be circumvented or negotiated safely.

  “Secondly, as I’m sure you’ve read and may not believe, there are animals on this island that pose a significant threat, namely dinosaurs.” He paused as the room erupted into a combination of scoffs, chortles, and gasps conveying everything from disbelief to mockery. When the room quieted down, Nielsen continued. “It’s true, and we are fortunate to have a paleontologist with us here today who was on the last expedition. We will listen to her guidance on what we can expect once on the island.”

  Everyone looked around the room to see who the paleontologist was. Marcy leaned in and whispered to Tracey, “This is so exciting. My little nephew would freak if he knew I was going to see dinosaurs, if it wasn’t for the NDA.”

  Tracey noticed a man dressed in camouflage enter the room and stand off to the side. She knew who this was going to be.

  When the room settled down, Nielsen cleared his throat and continued. “There appears to be the presence of an indigenous tribe on the island. Data gathered from the last expedition indicates that they are not a significant threat. In fact, the last expedition had established a relationship with them, and several of our staff are still on the island, presumably with them. Our main objective is to locate and rescue our stranded employees. Our secondary objective is data collection for off-site processing.”

  “What about security?” blurted Tracey.

  Nielsen nodded. “I’ll leave that up to our security detail leader, Rudy Collins.” He nodded, and the man in camouflage stepped to the front of the room and cleared his throat.

  “Thank you, Mr. Nielsen. Hi, my name is Rudy, and my job is to keep the expedition safe.”

  “Funny,” shouted Tracey, “that’s what the last security team leader said, and none of his detail made it back.”

  Marcy nudged Tracey. “Come on. What are you doing?”

  Collins scowled. “Yes, that was…unfortunate. I knew Mario. He was a good man. But he was unprepared. His detail was too small and underequipped. I assure you, we’re larger and better equipped. Plus, we have learned from his mistakes.”

  Tracey stood up, indignant, forgetting where she was. “Mistakes? Mistakes?” Marcy grabbed her arm, but Tracey shook her off. “People died. People like you, Collins, who thought their training and weaponry would protect them, died. When the T. rexes came swooping in, they destroyed our helicopters and devoured Mario’s men one-by-one.”

  She walked towards the front of the room as she accosted Collins until she was practically nose-to-nose with him. “How do you plan on dealing with a fifteen-foot tall eating machine with legs like tree trunks and teeth like hunting knives? What marvel of modern technology will you use then?”

  Collins didn’t budge an inch. “We’re going to clear the Landing Zone with a cargo plane using ‘Daisy Cutters.’ We have two light squads of nine each and two weapons squads of twelve each. One weapons squad will remain near the staging base, serving as security and a reserve. They’ll be equipped with AT4s and guided anti-tank missiles. We have Humvee-mounted anti-tank rifles and MK19 belt-fed automatic grenade launchers. This time we certainly won’t leave our birds parked on the ground to be destroyed. In fact, they’ll be mobile, Hueys with gunship configurations, able to track and take down a T. rex on the move.”

  “Hueys? Aren’t they a bit old school?” asked Tracey.

  “This is the private sector,” reminded Collins. “We use what’s available and whatever Poseidon Tech will pay for. They’ll do the trick.”

  Tracey met his gaze with hers, her eyes burning with intensity. “How do you know this is all going to work?”

  Collins didn’t blink. “We are also equipping members of the team, including you, with the latest in camouflage, fabric that actually bends light.” He nodded to a man standing at the back of the room, also clad in camo. The man stepped forward and handed Collins what looked like a folded tablecloth. Collins turned it in his hands, pinched an edge, and unfurled it. Suddenly, his legs appeared to vanish before everyone in the room. There were gasps and murmurs from the crowd.

  Collins looked at Tracey. “May I?”

  Tracey, stunned, nodded.

  Collins addressed the group. “If a dinosaur penetrates our screen, you can find a spot to hide…” he draped the sheet of cloth over Tracey, “…and blend into the environment as a last resort.”

  There were oohs, aahs, and applause from the crowd of technicians and data analysts. Tracey wasn’t able to see them through the material, but she pulled it off her head, balled it up, and shoved it into Collins’ hands.

  Nielsen quickly stepped up to the front of the room. “Thank you, Rudy. I have complete faith in your detail’s training.” He waved a hand in front of Tracey. “Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce to you the paleontologist who will be accompanying us, sharing her expertise and experience, Dr. Tracey Moran.”

  There were stunned looks and applause, as if her interjection was all part of the show. Marcy looked positively flabbergasted, and she clapped enthusiastically.

  When the noise died down and all eyes were expectantly on her, Tracey leaned against the metal table and eyed the group with a combination of pity and contempt. “This is no pleasure jaunt, I assure you all.
I was in the last expedition. I was awed when I saw my first dinosaurs, two T. rexes, but the effect wore off quickly when they ate our security detail and nearly killed the rest of us. They can see you, even if you remain still, and one damn near climbed a hill, using its little arms, to eat my group.”

  She turned to Collins. “With all due respect to your training and experience, your Hueys may take one down, but what about velociraptors? They’re smaller and agile, and they picked off several of our group and the indigenous warriors who had experience with them.

  “You can blow up the whole damned jungle, but there are other things…” she paused, pondering how exactly to explain, “…more preternatural, even supernatural elements of the island that your grenade launchers and ‘copters can’t touch.”

  Collins snickered and looked at Nielsen. “What in the hell is she talking about…supernatural?” His amusement faded when he saw the grave look on Nielsen’s face.

  Nielsen stabbed a finger into the air. “Funny you should mention that…” He pressed some keys on his laptop. “Our technicians analyzed the flight recorder your expedition recovered, Dr. Moran. They found something…unusual. Something strange.”

  “Something stranger than an island from another dimension with dinosaurs?” quipped Collins.

  A chill shot down Tracey’s spine, and her skin erupted in goosebumps.

  “Let me play it for you,” said Nielsen, pressing a button. A voice recording played out of his speakers. It was the pilot talking. His chatter turned to panic, then static, then an eerie, scratchy voice over the static, ‘Cooooooome to meeeeee.’ Then more static.

  “What was that?” gasped Tracey.

  Nielsen held up a hand, signaling it wasn’t over yet. ‘You’re miiiiiine!’ Then nothing.

  Everyone in the room was silent, exchanging horrified looks.

  “Maybe explain what else happened on the island,” said Nielsen.