Survivor's Guide to the Dinosaur Apocalypse

Scenes & Interludes...From an Improbable End A New Series in the Flashback Universe "I'm not a killer, if that's what you mean," he retorted, then turned away and watched the fire, hands on his hips. "Nor will I let any of us be. I mean, if I've said it once I'll say it again: this isn't about bloodshed. It's not even about rebellion. It's more about ..." He paused-as though saying anything else could only lead to regret. "I thought it was about nothing," said Fiona, softly. "That that was its beauty-it was wildness for the sake of wildness. Passion for the sake of passion. Isn't that what you said?" She laughed with surprising bitterness. "Different context, I guess." "It was about filling the nothing," he said, still facing away. "And letting go. Until...But then-you haven't had to think about any of that...have you? No one's made you king." "And cue the Messiah Complex," fumed Fiona, which I took as my cue to leave; to give them space-to let them hash it out, whatever it was-after which I wandered over to one of the kegs and filled a cup, reckoning that next to a roaring fire wasn't the best place to keep beer-because it tasted like piss, literally. Nor did I stop at one but downed three in rapid succession, wondering what Calvin had meant by 'filling the nothing' and 'letting go,' and about being king-not to mention starting a sentence with 'until'...but never finishing it. And I guess I must have stood there for a while, because I distinctly recall watching the same group of teens-their arms laden with destruction-moving back and forth between the fire and the White House-the fucking White House!-to the point that I began feeling shitty about what we'd done; and even a little sick to my stomach. But then Fiona returned jingling Calvin's keys and we were firing up his Mustang convertible, and the next thing I remember she was piloting us down 14th Street NW past buildings with Doric columns (now choked in prehistoric ivy) and a pair of grazing stegosaurs and at least one giant millipede; all the way to Constitution Avenue and the National Museum; which I took special note of only because I was trying not to look at her body-something she noticed, I'm sure, but didn't seem to mind-because she just glanced at me beneath the blood red sky and smiled-toothily. Carnivorously.

A new series in the Flashback/Dinosaur Apocalypse Universe ... I looked to see Nigel and Ewan entering the shop from the left, the latter seeming like an utterly new man-his hair no longer mussed; his clothes no longer a catastrophic mess. "Apologies, apologies, a thousand apologies," he said, before pausing to admire Gargantua. "But a maiden voyage such as this requires a fresh change of clothes." He looked on a moment longer and then dropped to one knee-began ruffling through his overpacked bags. "Ah, yes, here it is. It's-I opened it with Nigel." He withdrew a corked bottle-which glinted darkly in the light from a high window. "Voila! One of eight bottles of Dom Perignon Rose champagne, Vintage 1959, served in Persepolis in 1971 by the then-Shaw of Iran." He looked at us with a face flushed with excitement, and we looked back. "To-to celebrate the 2500th anniversary of the founding of the Persian Empire ... by Cyrus the Great." Disappointment stole over his face like a shadow. "It's-it's to break over the bow, as it were. To christen Gargantua." Nobody said anything. "Yeah-well. Waste of liquor, anyway. Especially when I've got so much celebrating to do. I'll, ah-I'll just get the door. Over there." He moved up the ramp toward the garage door. That's when I thought of Lazaro's admonition, I don't know why: You heard Roman-carnotauruses, heading this way. "Wait, Ewan," I said. But he was already there, triggering the great door with his fist, turning to look at us as it rattled upward, pulling the cork from the champagne. "Life is for the living," he said, and toasted us with the bottle. "And this stuff ..." He poured champagne into his mouth and down the sides, soaking his clean, white shirt, splattering the floor with foam. "This is for howl-" But then the door was open and they were there, the carnotauruses, and one closed its jaws about his scalp while another laid wide his abdomen (and another took up his legs) so that, howling, he was opened like a pizza being groped by eager hands. And then they themselves howled and piled over his body, and all we could do was to run-everyone save Nigel, who had his trimmer, which he started with a sputter-because our weapons were already in the rover.

Atticus, meanwhile, had been counting down. "Three…two...one." He sighed and lowered the megaphone-then lifted it to his mouth again. "The problem with you, Jaime, is that you just-don't-listen. Now I just explained to you what was going to happen if I reached 'one' and you hadn't come out, and goddamned if you didn't come out. So. What's going to happen now is that we're going to kill one of these people for every 30 seconds you remain inside the vehicle-starting immediately." He directed the bullhorn at the upper floors of one of the buildings. "Hershel? You awake up there?" "Get ready," I said. "I'm awake," came a voice, though it was impossible to tell exactly where from. "Fine," said Atticus. "Hershel, in 30 seconds, I want you to place your site on the head of...that little girl, right there." He gestured at a storefront on our right side-Simply Seattle. "Green coat, last one on the end, right next to the display window. Copy that there, Chief?" The man didn't hesitate. "Twenty-nine! 28! 27..." I toggled the loudspeaker myself. "We're coming out," I said, suddenly, and glanced at Sam. "We're trying to figure out how." There was a silence as Atticus seemed to think about this. At last he said, "Well, how complicated could it be? Just open the door. Hershel, keep counting..." "Twenty-three, 22, 21..." "It's not that simple," I hurried to say, "It's, like, pressurized or something." To the others I said, "On my mark, okay? Get ready." "We're at 18 seconds and counting, James," said Atticus. "Best clean your glasses and get with it." "Seventeen, 16, 15..." "Okay! Okay. We're depressurizing. Right...now." And then Sam was toggling the smoke as I gripped the joystick tightly and Nigel took over the loudspeaker and Lazaro opened the side door, after which we cursed loudly and bent to our tasks, and, together, threw wide the gates of Hell.

Welcome to the Big Empty, the world after the Flashback, a world in which most the population has vanished and where dinosaurs roam freely. You can survive here, if you're lucky, and if you're not in the wrong place at the wrong time--which is everywhere and all the time. But what you'll never do is remain the same, for this is a world whose very purpose is to change you: for better or for worse. So take a deep dive into these loosely connected tales of the Dinosaur Apocalypse (each of which can be read individually or as a part of the greater saga): tales of wonder and terror, death and survival, blood and beauty. Do it today, before the apocalypse comes. He hesitated before peeling off a wedge and placing it in his mouth, at which he closed his eyes and seemed to melt, hanging back his head, working his jaw in a circular motion, reopening his eyes-pausing suddenly. "What?" I asked. "What is it?" He tilted his head, peering into the branches. "Isn't that strange?" I followed his gaze into the tree but, alas, saw nothing. Which, of course, was precisely the problem; there was nothing-no oranges, no leaves, no uppermost branches, it was as though someone or something had picked the treetop clean. "Someone has a helluva reach," said Maldano. I looked around the lot: at the lichen-covered Public Market and the Jersey Mike's Subs with the Prius in its window, at the Vietnamese Nail Salon and the El Buzo Peruvian Restaurant. "We should split up, canvas the area. Make sure-there's nothing else." "Yeah," said Maldano. "I think you're right." I headed for the Public Market. "Make a sweep of the strip mall. I'm going to check out that grocery store." He laughed a little at that-which caused me to pause. "Orders-Hooper?" I half-turned, but didn't make eye contact. "Sorry?" "I mean, in all this? This Big Empty? This 'world tenanted by willows … and the souls of willows?'" There was something in his voice. Something subtle, something contentious. "Call it what you like," I said, and continued toward the market.