THE WORLD IS DYING.
Global warming, lack of resources, and the collapse of authority across all seven continents has caused worldwide strife. People are willing to do anything to survive.
The solution? Project ERAA, humanity's last effort to...
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ICHABOD RESTED on a fallen fern at the edge of the camp, pressing his palms together as he blinked back the sunlight in his eyes. The leaves of the fern were brittle and dying, and the trunk of it dug into his skin.
He saw Tina approaching, and stood up to greet her. Doctor Royson had given him something for the ringing in his ears, but he made sure Tina was close before speaking. "I'm sure you know why I've called you here."
Ichabod probably looked a sight, he realized - a far cry from the suits and stifling ties and cufflinks he'd grown up with. Sweat gathered at his temples, and blood was splashed across the shirt he'd stripped to; the grey suit too compressing to bear. Not his blood, thank God, but Tina wouldn't know that.
Her eyes darted across his front before locking on his. She looked calmer than he'd have expected her to look, and he had to hide his surprise. Ichabod kept his lips pressed together and stilled his hands.
"You want to know more on the ... rebels." Her voice wobbled, which was a mistake. So maybe she wasn't as calm as first impressions had made her out to be, and Ichabod was keen to press the advantage.
"Yes! I'm glad we're on the same page." Ichabod grinned, clapping his hands. The sound was loud, even to his deaf ears. He knew she knew he was suspicious of her - which he was - and that she would lie (of course she would), but Ichabod had learnt how to succeed in getting information out of people.
Not by torture or through some other barbaric means, oh no. They may have been in the Jurassic, but Ichabod would not condone himself in becoming uncivilized. Because that's what they were, he reasoned, right?
Civilized adults, talking on the future of the world, even if they had different goals in mind.
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It was blatantly obvious that Ichabod was expecting something from her. Though he looked rugged, and positively chilled, his eyes were flickering with intent.
Tina drew her lips together, curling her bare toes into the dirt. They were no thorns in the marsh, which was a stark contrast from the glass and stone-covered tarmac she had grown up walking along. It was comforting, and gave her a moment to think.
