No, that was impossible — the track was still there, and the shape of the hill looked right, but there was nothing else, not even a sign that a house had ever been there in the past. She looked along the dirt track — it was a good two miles to her property. Emma knew she had no choice. She began to run.
She checked her watch; it was still only midday—good—the goddamn freak bats weren’t due to be out and about for ages yet. But it had been hours since the last blackout, and every time one occurred, something changed. And the changes were getting bigger, more extreme. At first, it was as if little edits were being done to their world’s story. But the latest changes weren’t just edits, big or small; instead, they were full rewrites.
She powered on, her athletic frame easily eating up the miles. She began to speak to herself as she ran, moving it into a chant: Zach will be fine, Zach will be fine, she whispered over and over.
She managed to calm herself with the positive thoughts. And then everything dropped into an empty void of blackness.
And stayed black. And empty. And silent.
Emma felt like she was falling, or floating, as there was no sensation of ground, no up or down, cold or warmth, or even if she was even breathing or not. Her stomach flipped and just as she was about to scream her panic, the light returned. And with it came her senses.
That’s when the smell hit her — human waste, blood, body odor, and something else she found familiar but couldn’t quite place.
Emma got slowly to her feet and found she was dressed in some sort of rag. People milled around, but they were like no people she had ever seen in her life. They were short, overweight, and had small heads and receding chins. Some turned to look at her with vacant, cow-like eyes.
“What’s happening?”
Emma backed up as one of them bumped into her, and it felt soft and flabby. She turned about. The green field she had been in, the one she was just running across, was now covered in muck, surrounded with a wire fence, and she was trapped inside with all these strange people.
In front of her, one of the men or women, she couldn’t really tell them apart, started to urinate. She backed up as it just let it splash to the ground and onto its feet to add to the fetid mess. It didn’t seem to mind, and none of the others even noticed.
“What the hell is happening?” She turned about, and then from the far side was the sound of an engine, and she pushed the dumb brutes out of her way and headed toward the sound. “Move it.”
But there were hundreds of them in here with her, and when she finally got to the fence where the sound of machinery was coming from, she wrapped her fingers around the links and stared. Some of the people were being herded up a ramp and into a large building, and now that she was closer, she could make out the distinct sounds of metallic thumps, saws working, and grinders.
Emma moved along the fence, pulling and pushing the soft, chubby people out of the way so she could see around the other side.
She wished she didn’t.
There was another ramp out the back, and this one was a conveyor belt-type thing, and coming down it to be loaded, were sides of meat.
“No, no, no.” Her fingers unhooked from the wire mesh as she backed away. Now she recognized the odor — blood, meat, offal, and the hot smell of a bone saw — an abattoir.
Loading the meat and helping herd the dumb brutes were groups of people in green coats and helmets.
She squinted for a moment and then raised an arm.
“Hey!”
She licked her dry lips. They’d soon see she was in here by mistake.
“Hey you — where am I?”
They turned to face her.
Emma’s mouth closed so hard her teeth clacked together.
They weren’t people. They weren’t even human. They were lizards, with pebbly skin, red lidless eyes, and snouts. She squinted and saw between their eyes a distinctive v-pattern of larger scales, like a brow, but it made the things look like they were scowling at her.
Emma backed away, putting her hands to her face. “Oh, Zach?”
She felt it then, her face; it was round, the chin weak and receding. Tears ran down her cheeks. She lifted a hand to her face and saw the stubby and soft little fingers.
Then she knew — the last black out, the big one, was a major rewrite — the final re-evolution. They, the human race, had lost it all. Some other creatures had now risen to the top, and they were little more than cattle to be farmed and harvested.
She began to cry, and she knew she was carrying the greatest curse of all — she had retained her mind. She knew what they’d done, and she knew what was coming.
We did this, she thought. We threw it all away.
She looked up, her vision swimming.
“Curse you, Primordia.”
When she looked back down, she saw the lizard creatures were at the fence now and staring in at her, their faces registering naked interest.
She knew then she needed to keep her mouth shut. After all, cows don’t speak. She tried to back into the crowd of brutes, but the lizards followed her with their large, red eyes. There were hurried conversations and then a few broke off to head toward the cage gate.
In a minute, they were unlocking a gate and the crowd around her started to become agitated. The human cattle-people started to grunt and harrumph, snorting and whining rather than talking.
The reptiles coming in had picked up long poles with u-shapes at their end — either cattle prods or capture sticks.
Emma backed further away, bumping into one after the other of the docile remnants of humanity. Their near-naked bodies pressed in around her, with their stink and their oily sweat, and their grunting, snorting, and animal utterances.
I’m in hell, she thought, as the capture stick caught her by the neck. They forced her down into the muck and brought a lead.
It was then she slipped mercifully away into unconsciousness.
CHAPTER 52
Ben wiped his face as the rain beat down on them, heavy, blood-warm, and slick. Wind also bent the palm fronds back and made tracking the kid difficult.
“Can’t let him get away,” Ben said. “Too much at stake.” He pulled his revolver. “First prize, we take him down wounded. Second prize, we just take him down full stop.”
Drake pulled his gun. “Spread.” He charged out to the left.
Ben nodded and did the same to the right. Both big men chased down the wiry Andy who skipped lightly through, around, and over the jungle debris. But Andy was increasing his lead, as his smaller, slimmer body was able to maneuver through the tangled jungle far faster than the two broad men in their bulky equipment-laden clothing.
Just as Ben was going to prop and fire a few rounds to try and wing the kid, something exploded out of the jungle from Andy’s side. Ben already knew from experience that this wasn’t a place to run blindly through the jungle — noise, scent, and especially movement attracted predators.
“Down,” he hissed to Drake as he dived to the side.
The theropod was about 10 feet tall and had a large, pebbled head that seemed all bone, with a mouth full of finger-length, curving teeth. But what would have caused the most damage to Andy was that it leapt and landed on his skinny body, about 800 pounds, with massive feet extended and displaying scythe-like claws on each center toe.