Flashback/The Dinosaur Apocalypse: The Final Trilogy of Stories

Chapter 3-3

“But—why? And why have you gone against your own kind to help us?”

Oonin paused and looked at her—at all of them. ∆Why did you and Quint accompany Miles—a boy you hardly knew—on his journey to find out what happened to his parents—when you knew what dangers it would bring? Or you, Miles—why did you decide to embark on such a journey in the first place? And how about you, Quint: Why would a being who’d experienced nothing but poverty and poor-example his entire life decide to risk himself again and again for two individuals whom—each in their own way—had known a love and security you could scarcely have imagined?∆

Quint just fidgeted and looked at his feet, shrugged a little. “I don’t know. Because they were my friends, I guess. Because in spite of whatever differences we had, or how much we fought, we sort of came to, to ...”

“To love each other,” said Jesse, looking up at him. “To see the good in one another; and the courage.” She looked at Miles. “And the dependability.”

∆Because you were friends—and because you loved one another.∆ He nodded his head slowly. ∆Alas, that is what has fascinated me the most. This capacity for ‘love,’ as you say. This ability to put others before yourselves even if it means your own destruction. Indeed, that is what stood out as I observed you through the Talon—which is what it was designed to do—and which led to observations of your species as a whole using other means, including studies of a great number of the people visited by the vision.∆

He put his hands on their shoulders, or at least Miles’ and Quint’s. ∆And it is what has brought you here today; to place the Talon in its rightful place within the Sphaera Mobis—which are the obelisk and the spheres you see before you—and add its power to the array.∆

There was a strange rumble and he looked up—they all looked up—saw the great ships starting to glow slightly, to turn a deep red. ∆Alack, they will not wait forever, of that we can be certain.∆ He looked at the glowing talisman. ∆Hurry, Miles—the Talon. It must be placed into the slot on the front of the obelisk. Do it now.∆

And Miles took it off and did so—breaking it from its chain first—even as Jesse looked concerned. “I’ve been thinking about those approaching armies, all those men and beasts, as you say, and it’s sort of got me wondering,” She looked up at Oonin. “Whatever will become of our defenders when they get here? Of Sammy and Satanta, and Galaren? Of all those beautiful knights and their beautiful horses?”

∆Because I have expanded the shield to include them, they should be safe from the largest hordes—at least for a time. And yet there is great risk: for it must also include any enemy that was close enough at the time of the expansion. More, it will keep at a distance all those who have received the Call but not yet fully arrived—and who are even now gathering amidst the slopes and hills around us—keep them at a distance and thus psychically muted; for when it comes to the Sphaera Mobis, proximity is key.∆

“Oh. Okay,” said Jesse, still not looking satisfied. “But I’ve got one more question.”

“Jesus, what are you,” sneered Quint, “f*****g Columbo?”

∆It’s okay—she only wants to understand.∆ The alien’s inner eyelids blinked. ∆Yes, my child, what is it?∆

“Yeah, this has been bugging me practically since we got here. I mean, okay, so there’s this shield in place—okay, got it. But then—that being the case—why are the defenders needed at all? It just seems, I don’t know, unnecessary. I know, stupid question.”

But Oonin just smiled as if to say, Not at all, and then just as clearly frowned. ∆Because, just as nothing may penetrate the shield, so too may nothing escape it, and that includes the shaft of energy which will appear when the Sphaera Mobis reaches its full capacity.∆

At which Miles and Quint and Jesse just looked at each other, even as Oonin clarified: ∆In other words, if the shield is in place, the Sphaera Mobis will not work.∆

He gazed up at the ships, which had become a shade of vermillion the kids had never seen and were rippling with some form of raw energy—an energy which would eventually be directed at them, they knew. ∆Either way, my friends, there is only one thing at this point that could be considered certain: And that is that no matter what happens here today ... none of us are getting out alive.∆

––––––––

The gold fog rolled and so did the water, foaming and frothing, revealing first the photonics mast and communications antennas, then The Sarpedon’s black, sea-slicked sail and forward fins, then its great, dark, parabolic bow—which breached the surface at an angle, like the plesiosaurs and ichthyosaurs and mosasaurs swimming alongside—until, still steaming forward, the ship was fully surfaced and its aft fins visible; at which three people—two men and a small woman with a bob haircut—appeared in the sail.

“Jesus,” gasped Puckett, the engineering chief, as he looked at the beasts, which filled the water for as far as the eye could see (which nonetheless wasn’t very far, due to the fog). “If I hadn’t seen it myself, I wouldn’t have believed it. The sonar doesn’t lie.”

Captain O’Neil was more circumspect. “But why, goddammit. That’s what I want to know. I’ve certainly never seen them migrate en masse like this—like Hammerhead sharks. What’s the reason?”

Both of them had to shout over the crash and commotion of the waves.

Pang signed excitedly at them as the wind chopped her hair.

“What’s she saying?”

Puckett, who’d been working with her, paraphrased: “She’s saying, ‘What if they were called too—only in a different way?’” He watched as she continued to sign. “‘Or—considering the dream used sound and imagery instead of words—the exact same way?’”

O’Neil looked at the marine animals as they lept and dove and swam powerfully alongside. Aye, but for a different reason, he thought.

“Ho!” cried Chief Puckett suddenly. “The Santa Monica Pier!”

O’Neil peered into the fog and saw the tiny silhouette of a Ferris wheel emerging from the gloom, then unhooked his mic. “Half ahead, revolutions 500—and mind the beasties.” He looked at Pang. “Yes, I’m going to send a team ashore. And no, you’re not—”

And that’s when it happened: that’s when the pterodactyl flapped down like an oyster-white threshing machine and snatched her up by the shoulders—began rising. That’s when O’Neil drew his sidearm—even as Puckett grabbed her by the ankle—but couldn’t get a shot in through the pounding wings and Pang’s own flailing—until there was the briefest of openings, and he did fire.

Until he got lucky and the bird fell and so did Pang—still being gripped by her ankle—so that she was flipped upside down and slammed against the sail—which her head hit like a rock. So that she was knocked unconscious even as Puckett and O’Neil held tightly and ultimately dragged her back into the conning tower.

After which, drearily—for they were unable to wake her or get any sort of reaction at all—there was nothing to do but take her to the infirmary and monitor her.

Nothing to do, frankly, but pray.

––––––––

“All right, now listen up!” shouted Deputy Firth into the bullhorn—even as Hodge slid a finger into the back loop of his belt so he didn’t fall off the water tower. “I’m going to want a quick and efficient rollcall starting with the group whose been here the longest and ending with the very latest to arrive; and I mean quick and efficient—no lollygagging or long-winded Oscar speeches. Just the names of the people in your group and where you’re from; not what you had for dinner of if you thought Donald Tucker was a good President—just the facts. I mean, you give some people a microphone and they think it’s a license to just ramble on about anything, know what I mean?” He tittered softly. “I mean, so long as that microphone’s hot they’ll just hold forth on whatever comes to mind. It’s funny, really. You know, back in my academy days we used to—”

“Bennet,” clipped the Chief—Townsend was his name. “I’ll, ah, I’ll take it from here.”

He took the megaphone and stepped up to the edge of the tower. “What my deputy here is trying to say is that because we still don’t really know what we’re dealing with on all this we should try to stay on point, which I think we can all agree with.” There was some muted laughter. “I’m Archie, by the way.” His voice was folksy and had a slight drawl. “Sandy Chain Police Departmen—”

He flinched as the ships made a sound; like the sound a tuba made on its lowest note, but which then became higher and just lingered, as though the universe itself were brooding over some alien and inscrutable purpose. “But if ... if someone ...” He looked at Hodge and David-Hodge—both of whom he’d deputized—who only stared back gravely. “But if someone will just take the police megaphone we provided and introduce themselves; well, I reckon we’d be off to a fine start. There you go. And you are?”

“Preston Stokes,” said the young man concisely, and squared his shoulders. “Camp Holy Cross, Spokane, Washington. This here is Alexa ...” He indicated a third person, “And Diller, our pilot.”

He handed the bullhorn to the man in front of him, a fiftyish man in a black T-shirt and round sunglasses, who said, “Cooper Black—but friends call me Coup. Albuquerque, New Mexico. This here is Tess Baker and Miguel Francisco—of Nogales, Mexico.”

He passed on the megaphone.

“Paul Barrett; Omaha, Nebraska. With Harry Hawkins, Caleb, and Maria.”

“Lou Reese, Sylvia, Professor Pratt; New York City, New York.”

“Nick, Selena, and Katrice Lee. The Palouse, Washington.”

“Chris, Linda, Penny and Fred. San Francisco, California.” He indicated the ape-like humanoid hunkered next to them— which reminded Archie of Cha-Ka from Land of the Lost. “And Kong.”

And finally:

“Rex Whitmore—Plymouth, Massachusetts.” The young man tipped his cowboy hat. “And this little bugger in my backpack is Dessi. He’s a microraptor.”

“Well, it that don’t beat all.” Archie looked around at all the vehicles: at the midnight-blue Barracuda and the green and white helicopter; the black and silver Harley-Davidson, the customized land rover. “Looks like we’ve got a regular block party going on,” he said, and smiled. “Alas, I don’t reckon you’ve come all this way just to hear me prattle on from the top of a water tower in the sunny—or foggy, as it were—Hollywood Hills; so, I’m going to get right to it.” He took off his Sheriff’s hat and fidgeted with it before continuing. “Because the fact of the matter is, don’t none of us really know just why we’re here, other than that we all dreamed the same dream at some point and that we’ve dreamed since then that it has something to do with ending the Flashback.” He looked at the ships—or the ghostly impressions of the ships. “And so now here we are; locked out by this—this forcefield, and wondering just what it is we’re supposed to do. Now here we are beneath these ...”