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From a Stranger Future Ch.2
By Parasaur.w
FROM A STRANGER FUTURE
Chapter Two: A World Far Gone
“There was always something strange about Mac Wallace. Mac was one of the original designers of the D4 Module, and of the ChronoLeaper. He worked closely with Jeremy [Stinson], and often only spoke to him. We hired him…uh…oh shit, when did we hire him? *Snort*, God my memory has taken a turn for the worst. I used to know all kinds of crap like this, *laugh*. Uh, well I remember it was on a Friday, because I remember only wanting to get home when I was briefing him. *Lights cigarette, inhales*. The funny thing about Mac was that he exceptionally bright and talented, and God knows all the girls were after him, yet he was always very sad and morose. I never figured out what it actually was that made him so upset. I only knew that something depressed the hell out of him. It never affected his work, fortunately. But I didn’t like to see anyone on the job frowning. All my workers were like my friends, you know?”
Future, July 21, 5752 a.d.
9:40 am
Rays of sunshine filtered through the thick canopy of trees. The dense boughs made it nearly impossible to see the sky, and only the smallest slivers of blue could be detected beyond the dark green ceiling. Below the thick vegetation though, the trees, being so monstrous, were spaced far enough apart for an elephant to walk through. The ground wasn’t covered with the forest debris that usually littered woodlands. Instead, the forest floor was blanketed with only a layer of fine brown pine needles. Off in the distance, the sound of rushing water was audible, indicating a fairly large river was nearby. This definitely did not seem like Mali, Africa.
The team’s location was Tombouctou, Mali (also known as Timbuktu). In a former time, this was a small village was located on the southern edge of the Sahara, and was very dry. It was founded in the late 11th century as a trading post for salt and gold. But now, that was obviously not the case. Astonished, the crew of eight people filed one by one out the steaming ChronoLeaper. Among them was Mac Wallace, the expedition’s leader. The forty-year-old man was the first to step from the cramped machine and stretch. He looked around his surroundings in wonderment. “What the hell?” the first words from his mouth in over an hour. He extracted a small gadget from his backpack. Instead of reading a set of coordinates, the tiny LCD screen only displayed static, with the words: “Cannot locate Global Positioning Satellite.” Mac figured this might happen. They were millennia into the future. Humans had probably advanced those satellites by now or come up with a new system. He put his GPS Locater back and went to his team, who were still getting out of the cramped machine.
Mac handpicked every member of the team. There was Eddie Finn, a thirty-year-old physicist whose temper often got the better of him. Jen Landon, a mathematician and photographer. Jen was twenty-seven, the youngest in the group and seemed like the most mature, besides Mac. There was also Doug Robinson. This thirty-eight year old black man was the comic relief for the group, which was needed most of the time. He also worked as the team’s doctor. Wayne Crossly, at fifty he was the oldest member, who specialized in communication skills. His purpose aboard was to be able to speak with the natives of this future world. He was fluent in eight languages. Lieng Chen was another physicist, aged thirty-two. Kenneth Hart, outdoorsman, zoologist, and researcher for Futura Centra. He job was to record as much information about the ecosystems and natural environments as possible. He was twenty-nine. And Denise Anthony, thirty-three, whose job was to gather as much information about the societies they might encounter as she could. They all gathered around the machine chattering excitedly about their voyage.
Mac addressed them. “All right everyone, I know you’re all excited about this, but it’s time we get serious. We have jobs to do. The first order of business is the concealment of the ChronoLeaper. Anyone have any ideas?” The crew was silent.
“We could bury it,” Ken suggested weakly.
His idea wasn’t taken seriously enough to regard with a reply. “Maybe we can find a cave to stash it in or something,” Denise said, toying with a palm pilot.
Mac considered this for a moment, then shrugged. “Ok, let’s spread out and see if we can locate a cave.”
The air was fresh, a little humid, and clean. Again, Mac wondered how this could possibly be Africa, but it was the year 5752. Anything was possible. Nothing is impossible. That was Futura Centra’s slogan. As Mac walked through the vast open forest, he contemplated what might cause such a dramatic alteration in this area’s environment.
His mind partially numbed by his reflections, Mac hardly noticed the creature until it was three feet in front of him. His eyes came into focus as he snapped back to reality, revealing a strange animal. The thing was about two feet tall, and nearly five feet long. A stout body covered with snake-like scales and shaped much like a kangaroos held an extremely aberrant head. With huge black eyes and a long reptilian snout, this part of the animal resembled more of a gecko. It made a strange gurgling noise as it stared calmly into Mac’s eyes. His breathing heavy and quick, he realized he had stumbled onto a creature never encountered before. Diving into his pocket for his tiny digital camera, Mac shouted, “Hey guys! Come here!” The strange animal cocked its head. While he was fumbling with the camera, looking for the On button, he felt a sharp impact smash into his chest. The force was strong enough to knock him off his feet. Groaning, he felt the aching ribs that were hit. A slimy residue stained his gray shirt. Suddenly, he realized the creature was advancing on him, as he lay stunned on the forest floor. A boxer for twelve years, Mac prided himself on his quick reflexes. They came to his aid as rolled over and scrambled to his feet.
Doug, responding to Mac’s previous call came running. “What the hell is that? And why is it chasing you?”
“I don’t know,” Mac replied, grinning slightly as he ran from the animal. “I must have pissed him off somehow. He hit me with something! Get this thing away from me!” He laughed as he ran. This, despite possible dangers, was fun for Mac.
Doug backed away as Mac and the charging monster neared. “Nah, man. I think I’ll let you two work out your differences by yourselves,” he replied, chortling, assuming like Mac that this animal was relatively harmless.
Mac laughed. “Seriously, I’m getting tired. I think I—Ugh!” the creature leapt into the air and crashed down on the fleeing man. Mac moaned in pain as the animal stood on his back and growled a sick flem-based growl, bearing its cone shaped teeth.
“Ah, shit!” Doug started running towards the ChronoLeaper, where a Tranquilizer gun was locked.
The kangaroo/gecko flipped Mac onto his back with surprising strength and pinned him down. Mac swung his fist hard, crashing into the creatures face. But, this didn’t have the desired effect. Instead of toppling over, the animal only swayed a bit and quickly recovered, shaking its reptilian head. Then with cold measure, the creature opened its scaly jaws. Then Mac, for only a split-second, saw what he had been hit in the chest with. At point-blank range, the creature shot its powerful tongue, much like a geckos own fly catching appendage, down onto Mac’s face, breaking his nose and rendering him unconscious.
*****
Doug Robinson was born and raised in Citrus Heights, California with his two brothers and his mother. His father, a raging alcoholic, had abandoned the family when Doug was ten. Doug was the eldest of the siblings and took it upon himself to fill the void that his father had left. He worked hard in school, and at the age of fourteen started to work at a local carwash, devoting his paycheck to his family. His mother worked as a nurse’s aid and often had to stay for late hours at the run-down hospital, leaving Doug home with his two younger brothers. And when he reached the age of eighteen, and it was time to graduate, Doug lamented over leaving his thirteen and fifteen year old brothers alone. “Don’t worry about them, Doug. They’ll be all right,” his mother told him. And after a bit more persuasion, Doug applied to several colleges. Often Doug would look back on the day when he received the dozen or so letters back from the colleges he applied to with happiness. Not one of the letters had denied him from entering their school. He picked the best one, Dartmouth, which he had been very apprehensive to send an application to, and, somewhat regretfully, shipped off to New Hampshire. There he studied medicine and Hitchcock hospital, and eight years later would emerge a physician. But it was at college where he found his sense of humor. Comedy was something that Doug never had the time for back home, and he always pushed back the urge to tell a joke. But at Dartmouth, he found himself free. He eventually married Cassandra Bates, a young English girl, and settled down in Chicago. He found a job the local hospital. And a few months later he found a strange ad in a Doctor’s Weekly magazine that said:
Physician wanted.
$1500 Per Week.
Must be willing to travel.
Call 1.800.555.2378
He blinked several times after reading it. He darted to the phone and dialed the number. As luck had it, he was the first to notice the ad and was given the job.
*****
Mac regained consciousness when he started to choke on his own blood, which had flowed down his damaged nasal passage and into his throat. He sprung forward, hacking and coughing. His head ached and his nose felt like it had been hit with a ton of bricks. Groaning, Mac struggled to focus his eyes. Dimly, he could see Doug.
“You all right, man?” Doug said, his face concerned.
His vision mostly cleared, Mac realized he’d been moved to the ChronoLeaper. “Ugh, I think I’m ok,” He tenderly prodded at his sore nose. “Is it broken?”
“’Fraid so, my man. Not too bad. Just a small fracture,” Doug snickered. “You’ll be all right. What happened?”
“That thing pounced on me and shot it’s tongue out like a chameleon or something onto my face. It was really strong. It feels like I’ve been bare-knuckle boxing. What happened to that thing anyway?”
“It’s right here,” Lieng said, from behind. “Doug tranquilized it. This is quite an interesting animal. It actually has hoof-like feet!”
“Yeah, I felt that,” Mac replied, rubbing at his chest. He got to his feet, with help from Doug and walked over to where Lieng, Jen, and Ken were standing.
The three stood hovered over the thing, which was asleep and breathing heavy, the dart still in its neck.
“What the hell is it, do you think?” Jen said to Ken, in her girlish voice, that all the guys.
Ken shook his head, poking at the animals belly cautiously. “I have no clue. Maybe it evolved from…something.”
“Whatever it is, we have to leave it alone. Ken, do whatever you have to do and let’s move on. I want to hide the ChronoLeaper and go on with the mission,” Mac said, staring down distastefully at the animal.
“Right,” Ken replied, fishing his own tiny digital camera from his pocket. He snapped a series of pictures. Then took out a small laptop. He rapidly tapped at the keys, no doubt taking notes. “I wish I could study this thing longer.”
“You finished? Let’s go,” Mac asked, impatiently.
Ken nodded and bent down. He removed the dart, and with a small glass vile he took a sample of the blood that sprayed from the open vein.
*****
“God damn it, Mac, I> don’t know what to do with it!” Wayne Crossly said to his leader. “You’re the damn boss! You figure something out.”
Mac sighed, “Well, we’re fresh out of ideas. How in the hell do you hide this fucking thing?”
The ChronoLeaper, when fully assembled, was about the size of a U-Haul truck. It consisted of five major components, the D-4 Module, the control chamber, two turbine jet engines, and the docking struts. Obviously, this could not be disassembled so easily. “Well, I guess we’ll have to go search for a cave again,” Mac said, resignedly. He disliked the thought of splitting up, and disliked the thought of getting lost even more.
Mac’s contemplations were interrupted by Jen’s voice, for some reason very shrill. “Mac! Get over here, Mac!” Mac pulled himself to his feet from his spot beside a tree, some ten meters from the ChronoLeaper. He wandered over to where Jen’s voice was coming from, and wasn’t too particularly worried. Jen was high-strung, and she overreacted over the most trivial of matters sometimes.
But, unfortunately, Jen’s distress was not without merit. Mac saw the whole team with their backs to him, sputtering and making strange strangling noises, and staring at something that Mac couldn’t see. He walked up to them and pushed his way through them to the front. He started to sputter when he saw what they were so fixed upon. Standing before them, with an evil smirk on its face was a strange animal. It was humanoid in shape, but it was no more human then the kangaroo/gecko, and if Mac had to guess it was about five feet and five inches. Though not very tall, this creature was very imposing. Its skin was a light hue of purple, blended with a light shade of yellow. Its eyes were large and angular, and the pupil barely a slit in the depth of the surrounding green eye. Its body was clad in a strange white armor, that seemed to be only plastic and for show. But its right hand, which had only three fingers, held a weapon that looked all too real. It was seemingly a gun, or that’s what Mac thought it was, about two feet long with more then three barrels. A green light towards the trigger, which was more like a handle, gave the impression that the weapon was locked and loaded. Nobody moved. The creature, sneering and exposing mostly human-like teeth, spoke. “Humans,” it said, its voice raspy and croaky. It pressed some buttons on its gun and pointed the multitude of barrels at them. The team didn’t have time to jump out of the way, as a pulse wave struck them each, rendering them unconscious, their limp bodies falling to the pine-needle turf.
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Here ends Chapter 2 of FASF
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5/4/2002 2:11:40 PM
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