THE EPOCH CHRONICLES | ✔

seven

Blinking, Amelia turned to George. "After ERAA has been initiated, can the public follow into the Jurassic Period?" Daryl weighed heavily on her mind; would she be abandoning him to pursue a future free of pollution and destruction, but riddled with dinosaurs? If, she reminded herself. If she decided to do it.

But it was obvious to her heart what the answer would be.

George hesitated, but only for a second. "Of course. Immediate family of the Jurassic settlers would be granted passage, of course," Amelia breathed a quiet sigh of relief, ignoring the niggling at the back of her mind — of fake reassurances and blackmail. "And they would be followed by those who could pay their way, such as politicians and celebrities."

Amelia felt a momentary bolt of shock, but that too made sense. Though she could hardly imagine the offspring of Beyoncé traipsing through mosquito-infested tropical jungles. (And the mosquitoes won't be the most dangerous things out there, she thought darkly.)

That rang forth another question. "And the dinosaurs? How will the armed forces," she said these words with more malice than she had intended, because, at the end of the day, she realized, it would be a kill-or-be-killed world out there. The armed forces would be armed, with more dangerous firepower than mere tranqs. The thought brought a certain tightness around her heart. Could they really kill the creatures that would control the world they were stumbling into? "deal with the dinosaurs?"

George's mouth twisted, yet he remained nonplussed. "With as little bloodshed as possible. You will be briefed on such matters, should you agree to officially join ERAA," and that was when Amelia realized how much these people — scientists, parliament, even the president, depended on her, and others, to say 'yes'. They probably supposed that making it this far without backing it out would guarantee that they would agree.

And they were entirely right.

"then you will learn that we cannot actually bring animals and livestock we have as of now with us. That will make us rely solely on the more manageable dinosaurs for meat and eggs — meaning that each and every single species will be far too precious to simply wipe out."

Amelia swallowed, and nodded. He hadn't answered her questions but her mind was spinning way too much to ask another. It all made so much sense, and at the same time, it was difficult to grasp. How could she, an unemployed, nineteen-year-old girl with a fascination (or obsession, as Daryl sometimes called it) with old dinosaur bones, be chosen to be a part of a mission to venture to a time when those bones were connected to the very alive specimens? Another paleontologist's dream, for sure — but Amelia's skepticism was easing.

Slightly.

And she didn't know if that was a good thing — or a bad one.

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Amelia let herself into the apartment, her mind still abuzz with George's words.

"The plane to Nevada leaves in two days," he'd told them. More waiting, and not of the good kind. She'd have to break the news to Daryl — lie to him and add one more to the pile, or face getting kicked off the mission for exposure of state secrets. "Be there." His words had not been unkind. He sympathized with them.

But sympathy would not heal Amelia's conscience.

"Mel?" Daryl's voice cracked slightly on the dryness of the air. That day had been hotter than most, and now that Amelia had finally paused to comprehend how her life had changed in the last week, she realized her perfectly yuck she felt. Her curly hair was knotted, and her shirt was sweat-stained. She forgot about this, though, when her cousin appeared at the end of the hall, his eyes wide and concerned.

"Amelia! I've been waiting for you for ages; why're you home so late?" His tone was accusing, but not suspicious. Not yet.

Amelia worked the knot out of her throat. "You might wanna sit down with what I've got to tell you, cuz."

One glass of water later, they were sitting across from each other in the sitting room. She couldn't help but feel she was facing the jury in court. "Okay, I'm sitting." Daryl rubbed his hands on his overalls. She felt a pang of shame that she had kept him up so worried, he'd barely had time to change. "Tell me," he urged. "You've been distant all week, and you're about as twitchy as a cornered rat; like someone's gonna burst though the door any minute."

Amelia opened her mouth to apologize or defend herself or both, but he carried on, which told her to shut up. Her ears heated as his words continued to berate her.

"— and I know you're disappointed by the tenure rejection, hell, I'd be too — but, Amelia, it isn't the end of the world."

But what if it is? Amelia wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. She wanted to lash out and kick and bite — she wanted to hurt with the pent-up frustration she'd been holding within. She wanted him to understand. But she couldn't. And that's what made her keep her jaw firmly shut. Because Daryl — for all his kindness, and apathy, and concern — would never be able to understand the obligation she had to the past. To the people and creatures of it.

And maybe that was why she wanted to go along with that suicide mission — to finally be understood.

Finally — after an eon — Daryl was finished, his eyes blazing, his mouth twisted in a line of hurt. She had hurt him. Her cousin. The only family Amelia had left.

"I'm sorry." That was the only thing she could say. "I'm so, so sorry."

And Amelia wasn't just apologizing about the past, about her week of reclusiveness; but also for what would happen in the future.

She could only pray that Daryl would — one day — forgive her.

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