Lost in Time(36)

The one hanging above didn’t change.

It wasn’t his.

Which meant there was another prisoner here. Why?

The people sent back via Absolom were the worst of human society. Murderers. Terrorists. Serial killers.

Well, with the exception of Sam himself.

Why would someone send a killer here? There was only one good answer Sam could see: to kill him.

The scientist in him couldn’t help but wonder how the other prisoner had gotten here. Absolom should have sent him to an alternate timeline—and it should have sent other prisoners to their own timeline. No two Absolom prisoners should ever meet. Unless they had somehow used Absolom Two to send the other person—and sweater—here.

Sam realized then that he had more to do here than survive. He had a mystery to solve. A secret to unravel.

If he was going to do that, he needed to recuperate. The sea and a few days without food had left him weak. He needed to get his strength back. Then he would sort out who else was here. And why. And how they had gotten here. He sensed that in that answer was the key to learning who had killed Nora and perhaps a way to get home.

He tied his sweater around his waist and waded into the forest, stopping near the tree where the other sweater hung.

There wasn’t any sort of trap that he could see. It seemed the white garment was some sort of sign, a signal perhaps to any other prisoners who might see it. But why? Was it a lure of some kind?

The mystery would have to wait. Sam was hungry. And thirsty.

Past the shrubs, the forest was dark where the thick tree canopy blotted out the sun. Sam felt as though night had fallen in just a few steps. Behind him, the light-drenched beach was disappearing.

The trees around him reminded Sam of redwoods. The bark was thick with deep grooves, and the wide trunks seemed to extend all the way to the clouds. He felt as though he had been shrunk and dropped in a land where everything was oversized—which was technically the case.

The forest floor was covered in moss. Large ferns clumped together where there were holes in the tree canopy, positioning themselves to get hit by the sunlight.

Sam reached out and touched one of the fern leaves. It was thick and soft, almost like velvet. On the underside were spongy red spores. In the valley of the blades, small puddles of water remained from the storm. Sam tipped the closest one and drank the cool water. It coated his throat like aloe on a sunburn.

He exhaled and breathed a few times, savoring the relief.

He moved to the next fern frond and tipped the leaf to his mouth and drank. He repeated the action until his belly was full and his chin and undershirt were soaked. Sam was so consumed with quenching his thirst that he didn’t hear the rustling beside him. When he looked up, the creature was ten feet away, staring up at him, its scaly head cocked, as if curious.

The dinosaur was a small theropod, shaped like a T. rex, with large hind legs and small forelimbs. But this creature was smaller and more slender, about six feet long, with a head that came up to Sam’s waist.

But it was big enough to do Sam some serious damage. Or kill him. Even a deep wound would be deadly out here. The smell of blood would draw larger predators.

Slowly, the dinosaur opened its mouth, revealing jagged teeth that were razor sharp. This was a carnivore. No question about it. And it was hungry. Its tongue slithered in its mouth, bouncing left and right.

Sam didn’t move.

The forest was quiet as the carnivore took a step toward him, the three sharp claws on its hind legs digging into the green moss. Its forelimbs rose. Anticipating.

Sam’s breath came out of his nose with the force of a wind tunnel, the sound like a foghorn to him. Could the dinosaur sense his fear? Smell it?

A thud landed somewhere nearby, followed by a screech, another screech, and the cracking of limbs and twigs underfoot.

The dinosaur advancing on Sam whipped its head around, eyes darting back and forth, and launched into the forest, feet pounding the ground as it gave chase to the other creatures.

Sam fell to his knees and exhaled.

He had to get his head in the game. He was reminded of his sessions with Daniele, of her verbally shaking him, trying to convince him to focus and learn.

He had to get it together. Or he wouldn’t last the night.

What was the priority now?

A weapon. That was number one.

He glanced around, found a piece of fallen wood, but it was too soggy. Moss had already begun to grow over it, breaking it down.

In fact, everything in this forest seemed to be rain-soaked and dissolving, as if the darkness and dampness were turning everything to mush.

He tried two more sticks before finding one he liked. It must have recently fallen from a tree during a windstorm. It was about the length of his arm and strong, but light enough for him to easily carry and swing.

What he really needed was a fire. If he had had a burning torch, that dinosaur would never have approached him.

The problem was that a fire would draw the other Absolom prisoner—if they were still out here.

He was going to have to make some hard choices. In a world where everything can kill you, one must choose which battles to fight.

The next challenge was what to eat. He was too weak to hunt or fish. He also didn’t have a fire to cook the meat. Not yet.

That meant foraging. For plants. Or insects.

He tried to remember the survival food pyramid from Daniele’s book, but his mind was like molasses flowing through a fine cheese grater.