CHAPTER 32

65 mil ion years BC, jungle

Several of the new creatures were standing in the shal ows of the raging river, frothing white water tumbling noisily around their legs. They al held long sticks in their hands and seemed to be studying the water intently, keeping motionless for long periods then nal y, inexplicably, lashing out with their sticks.

Broken Claw turned to the others crouching a few yards away, watching these creatures with fascination. He snicked his claws to at ract their at ention. They al obediently looked his way. Broken Claw ut ered a series of soft throaty barks, and snapped his teeth.

New creatures. They are dangerous.

He couldn’t explain why – he just knew somehow that they were. Quite possibly far more dangerous than them. His yel ow eyes swivel ed back to the creatures, and across the far side to the curious contraption these things had been fashioning with their pale clawless arms. The long trunk of a tree stripped of branches and leaves and hanging at a raised angle over the river, just like the longslanted neck of one of the giant leaf-eaters that lived on the open plain. Tied round the contraption’s top, Broken Claw recognized vines, entwined together, taut and angling Claw recognized vines, entwined together, taut and angling back up towards another tree, over a thick branch and dangling straight down to the ground, where the vines were wrapped round a cluster of logs.

He couldn’t begin to understand what the contraption did, or why these things had laboured so hard on making it. But they had, and it worried him. That he himself couldn’t understand what it did worried him. He barked again softly.

New creatures. Cleverer than us.

The others seemed to agree. They cowered lower among the foliage at the edge of the jungle. He could see as many of them wading in the water as the number of claws he possessed. He wondered how many more of them were on the island on the far side of this narrow river. More than his pack?

Just then, one of the new creatures lurched forward, pushing the stick into the water. A moment later it pul ed the stick out. On its end, one of the grey river creatures thrashed and struggled, silver and glistening. The stick had somehow captured the creature. The stick … captures … the river creature.

He watched with fascination as the new creatures carried the large apping river-dwel er between them, away from the water’s edge and through the trees until they were gone from view. Only one of them remained behind. Stil , poised, gazing intently out at the water. Broken Claw recognized this one. He’d seen him before three sun-rises ago, back in the jungle. Their stare had three sun-rises ago, back in the jungle. Their stare had actual y met for a moment, although the thing’s pale blue eyes had seemed to register nothing of that. Broken Claw sensed this one led the others, just like he led his pack. A position of loneliness and responsibility. For a moment his animal mind processed a thought that a human might have cal ed kinship.

New creature. Is like I. Leads others.

When the time came to kil them al , when he was sure it was safe for them to make their move, he decided this creature should be his and his alone. Perhaps in the moment that he tore this pale thing’s heart out al the wisdom and intel igence inside it would become his. Then he too would understand the stick that captures … and the curious construction raised over the river.

Liam scanned the swirling suds of water in front of him. Every now and then he could see the dark outline of one of these large prehistoric mud sh darting around the shal ows, teasing him to make a lunge at it with his spear. He was useless at it, unable to anticipate which way the dark shape would lurch to avoid being skewered. Juan was probably the best among them at catching these things. The one he’d just caught was a whopper: four feet of wriggling wet meat, enough to feed at least half of them tonight. If he could just manage to bag another one himself while the others were carrying it back to the camp, then he could at least feel less like a useless jerk. Some leader.

Some leader.

Franklyn seemed to know everything about dinosaurs, Whitmore quite a lot too. Juan seemed to be at home in this survival situation, good at hunting, building a re and al . Keisha seemed to be the group’s carer and doctor. And, despite the unfortunate incident a few days ago, the others were beginning to regard Becks as their bodyguard. Even Jonah seemed to have a valued role as the group’s comedian.

And then there’s me. The Irish kid who can do nothing more than keep saying ‘help’s on the way’.

He wondered if the only reason they’d accepted him as the nominal leader was because he’d made the rash promise to get them back home. That and, of course, because Becks took her orders only from him. He wondered how they were going to feel about him being in charge in a few weeks’ time or months’ time, when there was stil no sign of rescue.

He felt lonely and worn out with the burden of responsibility. At least the last time he’d been stuck in the past it had just been himself to worry about; he hadn’t been asked to lead anyone.

No, that was Bob’s job. He laughed at the memory of Bob leading that army of freedom ghters. They’d thought he was some sort of warrior angel sent down from Heaven by God himself; they’d thought he was a superhero just like out of one of those comicbooks. Superman, Captain Freedom. He’d certainly looked the part.

Movement.

Movement.

He looked up and saw a pack of smal dinosaurs, lit le more than lizards, standing upright on their hind legs and gazing at him curiously. None bigger than his hand. They were standing only a couple of yards away and tweeted and twit ered among themselves as they idly watched him. Franklyn had a species name for them, although Liam was damned if he could remember it.

‘What do you fel as want?’ he cal ed out.

He could guess … begging for scraps. These lit le chaps had been hopping and skipping around their camp re last night like excited children, drawn by the smel of sh meat being gril ed on a spit. One of them had even been bold enough to hop up on to the cooking carcass, but had slipped on the greasy scales of the sh and fal en into the re, where it had apped around and screamed for a while before nal y succumbing to the ames.

‘Did you not learn your lesson last night, you sil y eejits? Best staying away, eh?’

They al cocked their heads to the right in unison at the sound of his voice.

‘Jay-zus, you lit le fel as real y are stupid, aren’t you?’

They tweeted and twit ered and cooed at that.

‘Ah, go away, wil you? You’l spook my sh, so you wil .’ Liam bent down, scooped up a rock and tossed it a dozen yards down the silted riverbank. The entire pack of mini-therapods turned and scooted after it excitedly, presumably ut erly convinced it was a hunk of juicy meat. Liam watched them go, pat ering across the silt, leaving Liam watched them go, pat ering across the silt, leaving a host of tiny trails behind them, like the trail of winter birds across virgin snow.

And that’s when the idea struck him.

‘Oh … oh,’ he gasped to himself. ‘Oh Jay-zus-’n’-MotherMary,’ he added for good measure. ‘That’l be it!’ He dropped his spear into the water and turned on his heels, heading through the trees towards the camp.