The Devouring Age - Chapter 5 – The Ones Who Came Before

For a long moment, the three of them sat in the dark hollow beneath the uprooted tree, listening to the faint thrum of massive wings fading into the distance. Only when the forest returned to its natural chorus of clicks, trills, and distant roars did Marla dare unclench her fists.

Andrew leaned back against the dirt wall, breathing hard. “What was that thing?”

The stranger—mud-smeared, exhausted, eyes wild—laughed without humour. “A Quetzalcoatlus. Or something close enough. Biggest flying predator this age has to offer.” He wiped blood from a tear in his sleeve. “You’re lucky it didn’t take your heads off.”

Marla swallowed hard, her throat tight. “Who are you?”

He hesitated. His gaze flicked to the narrow gap where sunlight filtered through tangles of roots. “Name’s Garrison. Been stuck here… best guess, six months.”

Andrew’s eyebrows shot up. “Six months? How?”

“Same as you, I’m guessing.” Garrison tapped the side of his head. “Storms back home. Strange lights. A rip in the air. Thought it was a hallucination until I landed in a swamp with a sauropod staring me down.”

Marla exchanged a glance with Andrew. “We need to get back. You must’ve tried.”

“Oh, I did.” Garrison’s expression darkened. “Everyone did.”

The word everyone chilled Marla. “How many?”

“Thirty-two of us, first day.” His jaw tightened. “Not many left. That sky-hunter took a lot. Raptors got some. And, well…” He trailed off, eyes distant. “Some things we never even saw.”

Andrew shifted uneasily. “You said we made a mistake by staying alive long enough for it to notice us.”

Garrison nodded. “That thing marks prey. Once it sees you, it’ll keep circling this region for days. Weeks, maybe. It remembers faces. Or scents. Not sure. But if it spotted you two…” He grimaced. “It won’t stop.”

A tremor rippled through the ground. Not a large one—just enough to rattle the roots overhead.

Marla froze. “What was that?”

Garrison held up a hand, listening. “Not the flyer,” he whispered. “Something heavier.”

The tremor came again. Slow. Rhythmic.

Andrew paled. “Tyrannosaur?”

“No.” Garrison shook his head. “T. rexes are loud, but they’ve got a rhythm to their steps. This… this is different.”

He crawled toward the gap and peeked out cautiously. Marla held her breath as he stared through the roots, unmoving.

Then he exhaled slowly. “It’s one of the long-necks. A diplodocus. Big as a ship but harmless unless you get underfoot.”

Marla let out the breath she’d been holding. “So it’s safe?”

Garrison’s face tightened. “Safe from that, sure. But long-necks move in herds. And where there are herds…” He motioned toward the deeper forest. “…there are things that hunt them.”

A low, guttural bellow echoed across the landscape—so deep the ground vibrated with it.

Not the tyrannosaur. Something lower. Hungrier.

Garrison pulled back from the gap. “We can’t stay here. Not with that thing nearby.”

Andrew nodded. “Then where do we go?”

Garrison’s expression turned grim. “The others set up a camp—a proper one. Reinforced. Hidden. But it’s far.”

“How far?” Marla asked.

“Two hours,” he said. Then added quietly, “If nothing finds us.”

Marla squared her shoulders. “Then we move.”

Garrison stared at her a long moment, as if weighing her resolve. Then he nodded.

“Fine. But stick close. And whatever you do…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “…don’t look at the water if it starts reflecting something that shouldn’t be there.”

Marla shivered. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he crawled into the blinding red sunlight and motioned for them to follow.

Source: Some or all of the content was generated using an AI language model