Stuck In The Time Of Dinosaurs

The enormous shape in the distance lifted its head. A long tail dragged behind it, cutting a dark line through the wet grass. Another shape moved beside it, smaller but still taller than the trees near Mara’s house.

Her hands tightened around the dead phone.

“No,” she said.

The first animal gave another booming call. Birds burst from a stand of strange, fan-shaped trees. Their wings flashed blue and green as they fled.

Mara stumbled backward. Her heel struck the stone. Pain shot up her ankle, but she stayed upright.

The dinosaurs did not look like museum skeletons. They moved. They breathed. One swung its long neck toward the ravine, and its eye caught a pale glint of light.

Mara ducked behind the fern.

Rain ticked against the leaves. Mud chilled her palms. She pressed one hand over her mouth and tried to make her breathing quiet.

A memory pushed through the fog in her head: the storm over the old quarry, white lightning twisting down instead of striking across. The broken fence. The flash that had swallowed the world.

Then the thunder.

Then this.

Mara looked toward the ravine. It was not far, but the space between them was open. No trees. No shelter except low shrubs and scattered rocks.

If she reached the ravine, she could hide. Maybe it led to a road. Maybe to a cave. Maybe someone would find her.

She pulled the backpack onto one shoulder and waited for the long-necked dinosaurs to turn away.

They did not.

One lowered its head toward the ground. The smaller animal beside it gave a sharp, barking call. Both began moving across the plain.

Toward her.

Mara ran.

Her first step sank to her ankle. She yanked free and splashed forward. Rain slapped her cheeks. The backpack bounced against her spine, and the loose strap snagged on a thorn bush. She tore it loose without stopping.

Behind her, the ground shook.

Mara risked a glance over her shoulder.

The dinosaurs were not chasing her. They were still too far away, lumbering toward the ravine. But their size made the distance seem shorter. Each footfall pressed a dark print into the shining mud.

A shrill cry rose from somewhere near the rocks.

Mara faced forward and ran harder.

The plain dipped suddenly. She slid down a muddy slope and landed on both knees. Her palms struck sharp gravel. She bit back a cry.

The ravine was closer now, a narrow cut in the earth with walls of dark stone. Water rushed along its bottom, brown and fast. On the far side, a shelf of rock made a shallow hollow.

Mara scrambled down toward it.

Then lightning split the sky.

It did not flash above her. It flashed inside her wrist.

Mara cried out and fell against the ravine wall. A thin mark had appeared beneath the skin of her left wrist, bright as a blue-white thread. It curved in a broken circle, with tiny lines branching from it like cracks in glass.

The mark pulsed once.

Across the plain, the thunder answered.

The distant dinosaurs stopped.

Mara stared at her wrist. The mark faded to a dull silver, but the skin around it tingled.

“What are you?” she whispered.

A second pulse shivered through her arm.

The larger dinosaur lifted its head.

Mara clutched her wrist with her other hand. The mark warmed beneath her fingers. A pale glow leaked between them.

The dinosaur turned toward the ravine.

“No,” Mara breathed. “No, don’t.”

She scrambled along the slope, searching for a way across the rushing water. The ravine narrowed a few yards ahead, where flat stones formed a rough bridge. She could cross there. On the other side, the rocks might hide her.

Mara climbed.

The rain had made every stone slick. Her fingers slipped twice. On the third try, she pulled herself onto the narrow shelf above the water.

The mark pulsed again.

The sound that followed was not a roar. It was a deep, grinding call that seemed to press against her ribs.

The dinosaurs had started toward her.

Mara reached the stone bridge. Water foamed around the rocks. She stepped onto the first one.

It shifted.

Mara windmilled her arms and dropped to one knee. The current surged around her shoe. Cold water soaked through her sock.

“Stay still,” she told herself.

The stone rocked again.

Behind her, something crashed through the brush at the top of the ravine.

Mara looked back.

A dinosaur’s head appeared above the edge. It had a narrow snout and rows of small teeth, not huge like the long-necked animals’ teeth, but plenty sharp enough. Its yellow eye fixed on the glowing mark beneath Mara’s hand.

Another head rose behind it.

Mara’s mouth went dry.

The first dinosaur snapped its jaws.

She jumped.

Her foot landed on the next stone, but the rock rolled beneath her. Mara plunged into the water up to her waist. The current slammed her against the ravine wall. Her backpack tore free and spun away.

“My bag!”

She reached for it. The backpack caught on a branch jutting from the bank. Mara grabbed the strap and pulled. The current tugged at her legs, trying to drag her beneath the brown water.

Above, the smaller predator screamed.

Mara wrapped one arm around the branch. With the other, she hauled the backpack toward her. The strap cut into her palm. The water rose to her chest.

“Let go!” she gasped.

The branch cracked.

Mara made a choice.

She released the backpack.

The current snatched it away, carrying her notebook and flashlight toward the bend. Mara shoved herself against the wall and clawed for the next stone. Her fingers found a crack. She pulled, kicked, and rolled onto the far bank.

For a moment she lay there, coughing.

The predators snapped and shrieked from the opposite side. One stepped into the ravine, its claws scraping stone. The water pushed against its legs, but it kept coming.

Mara crawled toward the rock shelf.

The mark on her wrist burned.

She looked down. The silver lines had brightened. Their glow spilled across the wet ground, shining through the muddy water in tiny trembling reflections.

The predator’s head jerked toward the light.

Mara pressed her wrist beneath her shirt.

The glow vanished.

The dinosaur stopped.

Mara froze.

It tilted its head, listening. Rain ran from its snout. Its claws flexed against the stone.

Mara held her breath until her lungs hurt.

The dinosaur stepped forward.

A rock broke loose beneath its foot and splashed into the current. The animal recoiled, then gave a frustrated bark. The second predator answered from the rim.

Mara crawled into the shallow hollow beneath the shelf. It was barely deep enough to hide her. Stone pressed against her shoulder. Wet leaves clung to her knees.

The first dinosaur climbed out of the water.

Mara squeezed her eyes shut.

A heavy foot struck the ground inches from the hollow. Mud spattered her cheek. The creature sniffed, then scraped at the stones with one claw.

Mara’s hand closed around the only thing left in her pocket: the cracked phone.

She pressed it against her wrist.

The mark flashed.

The dinosaur jerked back with a furious cry.

Mara stared at the phone. Its dead screen had lit again. The numbers were gone. A single white line curled across the glass, forming the same broken circle as the mark on her skin.

The storm rumbled far away.

The mark pulled.

Not like a hand tugging her. Like a thread inside her bones, drawing her toward the open plain and the purple sky.

Mara shook her head. “I’m not going back out there.”

The pull strengthened.

Outside the hollow, both predators began circling the ravine. Their feet thudded on either side of the water. One lowered its head toward the shelf.

Mara tucked her knees close and covered the glowing wrist with both hands.

The phone vibrated.

A tiny crack appeared across its screen.

Then another.

The white line on the display stretched toward the ravine mouth, pointing straight at the storm-dark horizon.

Mara understood one thing with sudden, terrible certainty.

The mark was not only showing her the way home.

It was calling something to her.

The predator above her gave a soft clicking sound.

Mara slid deeper into the hollow, pressing her back against the cold stone. The mark burned brighter beneath her hands, and somewhere beyond the ravine, something much larger answered.

End of chapter one. 14 more chapters and about 28,975 words in the full book.