“Balls?” Francis looked down to the empty space next to him, and then slowly shook his head. His voice was basement deep. “Ain’t no one there now, and ain’t no one been there. Don’t be losin’ it now, brother.”
Ben cursed and ran both hands up through his hair. Helen leaned across to him. “It’s starting on us now: erasure.”
Ben looked up at her. “Let’s hope we’re in time.”
CHAPTER 26
Andy finally made it down onto the debris-strewn beach and he stood on the silty shoreline, flexing his aching fingers from the climb, and looked back up; the cliff top was far above him, and he had no doubt if he had fallen when the edge broke off, he’d have been killed. Or even if he had survived, and only ended up with one or more broken limbs, in this place, it would have been a death sentence anyway.
His first order of business was to grab up several of the flattened helmet crabs that meandered along the sand making wide tracks. They were slow and in no time, he had several large ones stacked like plates under his arm.
Andy quickly turned to the ocean, always mindful of being in an open space. It was shallow at first but darkened quickly to deeper water. The amazing thing about it was that it surged sideways along the rocks and sand as if it was a monstrous river.
The surge moved rapidly, far faster than walking pace, and he guessed it traveled for miles; hundreds even, on the turn of the tide. Given there was around six hours for a full change of tide, he bet if he was in his boat, he could travel for miles.
Right now, it was heading north, but sooner or later it would stop, then become calm for a while as the tide had reached its zenith or nadir depending if it had been on the run in or out, and then it would turn to begin its southern run. Maybe all the way down south where the inland sea reached the open ocean. It might even join up with one of the continental currents and travel all the way to where he pulled his little boat up at the estuary mouth all those months back.
“Need a boat.” He looked up and saw the stand of trees at the cliff line. He thought about it for a brief moment but then gave up. “Too hard, too long.” He sighed and turned back to watch the surge for a little longer.
A thought crossed his mind: he could actually use it to travel further up inside the continent, at least along the coast of Appalachia. There were places he was still desperate to see in the lands that would one day merge to become North America.
He turned southward: or should he try and head back down to South America again to watch the effects of Primordia? After all, Appalachia and Laramidia would be here tomorrow and every day for millions more years. But the comet Primordia only ever came once every decade.
What a sight it would be to watch as that plateau became shrouded in its curtain of rain and that tiny section of Amazon jungle was somehow thrown forward, or them backward, so the two time zones briefly overlapped.
Truth was, a small part of him was calling him home. He held up his hand that was missing the fingers. He smiled at it and flexed it — the damned thing still hurt. His body was all skin and bones, covered with a hundred different scars. Added to that, his back teeth were loose and he often suffered from chronic diarrhea from eating things that he obviously shouldn’t.
Andy knew in his heart that this was no place to be an old man and alone. He exhaled and watched the water barreling north. Maybe I can just head back down and when I see the portal open, I can decide then.
He flexed his hand again — it ached, and there was even a tiny nub of bone showing. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to get some supplies, medicine, knives, and whatever.
“If they even come,” he whispered, but then: “Nah, Helen will.”
He smiled at the mental images of his sister forming in his mind. First there came the ones of a little girl falling off a swing, and then her standing in the water with a beaming grin, her Sammy the Seal pool float around her waist. Next came her in a prom dress and being taken to the dance by the college meathead called Jack Harding, who probably had the IQ of a tree stump.
His vision blurred as his eyes watered as his mind took him home — then came university, and he and she had graduated together as the first brother and sister paleontologists in the state.
Andy suddenly realized he missed her terribly. In reality, he missed everybody and anybody. He peeked into his bag. “Sometimes your conversation skills just don’t cut it, my little friend.”
“And yours do?” The tiny thing tilted its head. “Gluck.”
“Exactly.” He looked back at the surging sea and watched as a massive tree trunk, hundreds of feet long and probably twenty feet wide, passed him by on its way up the coast. Its branches and roots acted like stabilizers so it didn’t roll or bob.
His mouth dropped open as it continued on by, fast, and traveling at about 10 knots in the surge — that was a good running speed.
“I need a boat,” he repeated, and his mouth curled up at the corners as a plan began to take shape in his mind. Andy turned to look down the coastline and then back up. The tree was still in sight, but now already about 1,000 feet further up the coast.
From where he stood, there was nothing but cliffs, rubble and little else down the coast. But just further up from where he stood, there was a small spit of sand and stone. The tree must have passed so close to it; it would almost have been leaping distance.
“Maybe,” he whispered.
He started to walk up along the beach, picking up more crabs and other things that could be edible as he went. Supplies, he now thought.
He needed a boat, and Mother Nature provided one for him. If things went to plan, he’d be on that damned log for hours, and if things really went to plan, maybe even days.
As he watched, the surge began to slow. “Here we go.” It was the change of tide, and soon the opposite surge would start and keep up for hours. He had to be at the spit waiting for the tree trunk or he’d miss his ride.
Andy started to run alongside the now glass-calm sea, his feet slapping in puddles that sprayed his legs with warm water. But then from the corner of his eye, he detected a flicker of movement.
“Shit.” He leapt to the side as the long shining body launched itself from the water.
He scrabbled backward as the jaws snapped shut and kept snapping as the thing moved seal-like up onto the beach after him.
It was a mosasaur, a small one at about 25 feet long. The calm water had created a window-like surface, and coupled with Andy jogging along the sand, he had attracted a predator whose eyes were adapted to focus on moving prey.
However, the water was its kingdom, and on land it was well out of its element. The mosasaur gave up and flipped itself back into the water, but Andy could still see it gliding along under the surface beside him.
“Dumb, dumb, and dumber,” he berated himself. He walked even further from the water and sat down. “Now what?” he wondered.
He had to get to the tree stump, which meant even if it came real close to the spit, he would still need to cross some of the water by swimming. If he dragged this thing up the coast with him, he wouldn’t make two feet of open water, let alone a few dozen.
He picked up a stone from the sand and threw it out into the water.
“Fuck you!” he yelled.
There was a surge toward where the rock landed, and he watched for a moment with narrowed eyes.
“Okay, you find that interesting, huh?” He picked up some more and threw them again and again. This time, the mosasaur came to the surface, and he managed to land one smack onto its back.