En route to Bradley's Marsh
3 klicks from Site One
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LALE FELT his voice crack more than he heard it; an almost ripping in his chest out of grief. "Bradley, what's going on? Why do you look so ..." he trailed off, certain his friend would get the gist of what he meant.
The scruffy clothes, the beard (he hadn't even thought that the previously cleanly-shaven ex-pilot was capable of growing one), and not to mention the bow and arrow, all pointed to time spent in the wild. A lot of time.
The thought of Brad, perhaps alone, in the world that had already tried to eat he and Amelia twice in the last half an hour, threatened to choke him; yet it was the only explanation. Had his TimePod malfunctioned? How long had he been out there? Those thoughts made his heart ache for his friend — or whatever remnant was left of him.
No. He told himself firmly, pulling his thoughts away from that direction with as much force as it took to get his feet out of the sludge of the marsh. The watery-brown mud and the cutting edges of reeds made maneuvering difficult, and took almost as much effort as running away from a pack of toothy predators.
Bradley twisted with a suddenness that made him stop in his tracks, his friend's blue eyes barbed with anger. He looked feral, and Lale instinctively put his arm out in front of Amelia, ready to leap in front of her if his friend pounced.
He didn't, and instead put a finger to his lips, silently telling them to be quiet. Brad then turned and continued walking, heading for a cluster of ferns far taller than Lale, who turned and shared a glance with Amelia. He knew her sorrow was reflected in his own eyes. Living alone for who-knew-how-long had taken a toll on Bradley, and Lale resigned himself to be more careful around the other man, even though it made his chest hurt to admit that Bradley had changed.
And maybe not for the better.
Their slow pace was a stark contrast to the race for their lives before, and finally gave Lale the opportunity to think, and study their surroundings.
The vegetation was lush in the marsh — tall reeds that blocked out the sunlight across his face and had cutting edges, along with shorter, squatted ferns with leaves that trailed over the water. Everything seemed super-sized, however, and even the smallest of the sprouting plants were double the size that they would've been in 2039. Including the animals. Lale didn't rest for long on the beauty that surrounded them — so many more shades of green than he would've thought existed — but instead scoped out for potential dangers.
He was relieved that his priorities hadn't shifted, and he was still as sharp in the mind as ever. As they treaded, Lale held the rock that he had thrown at that one dinosaur tightly in his hand. His skills as stretch pitcher back in the day had saved Amelia's life, and he wasn't going to let go of such a weapon just because there were no large nasties in sight.
Apprehension tightened his throat as they drew closer to the ferns; or maybe that was the thick, mouldy-smelling air. Lale couldn't describe the taste hitting his tongue; something along the lines of vegetation and resin in furniture and the heavy weight of humidity. His suit, for all its contraptions, couldn't keep out the creeping heat and accompanying thirst.
Bradley brushed the ferns' leaves away, and Lale's eyes widened as his brain tried to compute the sight before them. His confusion faded, however, when he spotted the wood and ivory-like glow of bone. Not plants. Instead of the stalks of ferns like he had expected, wood had been arranged into a crude raised home, much like the buildings of people whose land had been ravaged by floods. The memory flashed into his mind; sun-faded posters lining the streets of Melbourne, asking for donations for those who had lost their coastal homes once the ocean had destroyed them.
Camouflage.
Lale turned to Bradley, ready to compliment him on his building skills, before he remembered the other man's warning and clamped his jaw shut. Bradley himself had started climbing a rope (which looked like braided ferns to him) onto the platform, his movements speaking of experience.
He turned to face Amelia, who was staring at the rope like it was Mount Everest. She was still holding that dagging egg, and Lale had to fight to not roll his eyes. Each to their own, he sighed reluctantly. She may as well keep it, especially since we nearly died for it.
For the first time, it hit him how close to death they had both been. If Bradley hadn't been there ... Lale didn't want to finish the thought. He gazed back at his friend, who was shrugging off his bow and arrow and entering the house without a glance in their direction.
"Looks like he won't be helping," Lale whispered. In the enclosed space, it sounded louder, and he winced, hoping Bradley hadn't heard.
Amelia tilted her head, still eyeing the rope, then gazing at the building. Which was made out of dinosaur bones. Lale wondered, briefly, whether she would have a problem with that. Still, a house's a house, and I don't mind if I do ... He'd been in worse, after all.
He gripped the rope, which felt like it would give way at any moment, and began climbing hand-over-hand until he could grip onto the wooden platform and haul himself up. Lale dried the leaf juices from his hands onto the grey suit, before he heard an "Ahem."
Lale glanced back down at Amelia, who held the rope in one hand, egg in the other. He felt his ears heat — and she was injured, too! Dropping to his knees like it was his idea in the first place, he extended a hand down to her. "Hand the egg to me."
The woman rolled her eyes to the heavens, before reaching on her tiptoes — Lale didn't miss her grimace of pain — to hand the smooth white object to him. He gripped its surprisingly rough surface tightly, not keen to learn what Amelia would do to him if he dropped it, before laying it down on the wood beside his knee and offering his hand to her again.
She took it, and he felt an unnecessary twinge of relief that both of their hands were sweaty, and it wasn't just him who was suffering in the humidity.
Lale pulled her up with an internal grunt — he knew from experience what women did when they thought they were heavy — and helped her onto the platform, trying not to cause her further discomfort as she winced. His eyes glanced over her back, and he exhaled sharply at the sight of ripped material and bleeding skin.
"You need to get that cleaned," he murmured quietly, concerned, especially in their situation. Who knew; maybe the bacteria was as deadly as the Tyrannosaurus rex. (One thing that he liked JEE for; it taught him that they would not be facing the famous predator. He had millions of years of evolution to thank for that.)
"I know." Amelia climbed to her feet, dusting her knees off. She was holding the egg again. She straightened and squared him in the eye. "You see any First Aid kits nearby?"
Lale shrugged in response, understanding he'd set himself up for her dry sarcasm. He turned to the open door of the abode, resigned. His chest tightened a little. Since when was he wary of talking with Bradley?
Since he decided to go Tarzan on us, a bitter thought answered. He brushed it away and entered the house, which was surprisingly well-lit despite the leaves covering every inch of the exterior frame. He appraised the inside, and, despite his surprise at how cosy it looked despite lacking furniture, his heart only dipped further and further.
If Bradley had had time to carve figurines from bone (at least, he thought it was bone) and assemble every detail of the shelter — from the vines hanging down from the ceiling, seemingly for no reason at all, and the additional bow and multiple arrows — then how long had he truly been stuck in the Jurassic Period?
Another thought sent a bolt of panic through his veins; what if he, Amelia, and the other people of the TimePods at that nesting ground had come late? Had they been withering away in those machines? Lale glanced down at his clenched fists, as if his flesh would turn to dust at any moment.
Clatters tore him from his thoughts; he looked up to see Bradley rifling through torn fragments of metal that harshly resembled a tool kit. His eyebrows rose as he saw the Red Cross on its lid. Or a First Aid kit.
Bradley looked up as Amelia stepped in, and Lale shifted to the side, realizing how cramped the room was becoming. Another curtain of leaves separated the room they were standing in from another, presumably Brad's bedroom.
"You can talk now," Bradley sighed, his shoulders slumping in resignation. His eyes didn't let up in their sharpness, like they didn't trust that he and Amelia wouldn't disappear in front of him. Lale recalled his friend's words from before; "If you're real —"
Lale was too heartsore already to feel anything more than numbness. He felt like his lungs would freeze for sympathy for Brad.
Bradley handed a bandage to Amelia, along with some antiseptic cream, taking cautious care to not touch her hands, Lale noted. While Amelia unrolled the white material gratefully, he decided to clamp down; enough pity. What's done is done, he remembered Fereldson saying. The thought of her brought more pain than he would've liked to admit.
"Bradley, what's going on?" Lale made sure to keep his void devoid of grief. He kept his gaze on the other man's eyes, which wouldn't return the stare. "What's with all ... this?" He gestured to the house.
Bradley muttered something along the lines of "wrong" and "question". He answered more clearly before Lale could try and focus on deciphering it. "Gotta survive in the Jurassic somehow." He bared a grin filled with teeth and no humor. "In the marsh, only the scamps come close. Out there," he tilted his head towards the door, "the big beasties live.
"You're lucky to have gotten out of the site without a missing arm," he continued, talking about the meat eaters like he was discussing the weather. "It was my damn luck that they weren't nesting there when I arrived." Bradley shook his head, eyes closing for a brief second, like he was saying a prayer. "Or perhaps my unluck."
Lale was speechless by the time Bradley had finished, incorrect word usage aside, his suspicions confirmed. Bradley had been 'dropped' into the Jurassic Period at a different time than he and Amelia — alone, and without weapons. It was hard to keep from cursing aloud.
He folded his arms behind his head and gazed at the ceiling, thoughts whirring in anger. At PAST. At himself for agreeing to venture into this suicide mission. It could've been any of us. He just wished it hadn't been Bradley — a horribly selfish one.
"How long have you been here, Bradley?" Amelia asked gently, after a moment's pause. Lale continued to stare at the vine-covered ceiling; the green tendrils were wrapped between the bones of what seemed to be a rib cage, with thick leaves covering the top as a roof. They shook with moisture.
"A year," Bradley stated matter-of-factly. Lale couldn't bury his groan — one year alone was one year too long.
Amelia turned to face him as he looked down, her already dark eyes even darker. "We need to find a way to lead the Tanycolagreuses away from the TimePods," she said. Lale hadn't even though of that, he was so wrapped up with Bradley's circumstance, and he internally kicked himself for it.
"Okay. How're we gonna do that?"
"You're not," Bradley interjected flatly. Lale and Amelia stared at him in shared shock and disapproval. Maybe Brad had replaced Lale as the negative one. "It's a breeding ground. The only way you're gonna move them is to take away the eggs." He tilted his head defiantly, chin jutting out like a toddler. "And that's a death sentence."
"This whole mission was a death sentence!" Lale exclaimed, more disappointed than anything else that Bradley didn't share their wishes to save the other ERAA recruits. And the disappointment was the kindling for further anger. "We can't just leave the others to get eaten!"
Bradley stepped back, hands up like Lale was holding a gun. "It's a lost cause, Lale."
Lale could feel Amelia's gaze burning into him, but he didn't want to see her own emotions brewing in those black eyes of hers. He kept his gaze on Bradley, his momentary anger fading into weariness, even though he spoke to Amelia. "We'll figure something out, Amelia. Don't worry."
There was hiss, similar to that of the TimePod opening, before another voice chimed in.
"I believe I can help with that."
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