Primordia 3: The Lost World—Re-Evolution

EPILOGUE

“I woke up in a field,” Emma said softly.

Ben nodded. “The rain shut off like a tap. We all fell, but it was like we fell into a vacuum. Like you, we blacked out, I think, or were in some sort of other place… no, more like between places, for nearly an hour according to our watches.”

“It was horrible.” She turned, her eyes wet. “We had lost everything. We were cattle, farmed for our meat.” She buried her face in her hands. “Zach, you, the world, was all gone, and only I could see it.”

He rose from his chair and came and sat next to her, throwing a large arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him.

“We stopped it.” He exhaled. “Andy said he had so much left to do and see. Whatever that was, it must have been the major keystone events that changed everything.”

She turned to the large windows that looked out on the green fields of Ohio. The sun shone, and there were far trees whose leaves glittered in the sun as a gentle breeze ruffled their branches.

“Was it real?” she asked. “Did it really happen?”

Ben grinned and thumbed over his shoulder to the staircase. “There’s a tiny flying reptile in a cage in Zach’s room; you better believe it was real.”

She returned his smile. “He wanted you to bring him back something cool, remember?”

“Then mission accomplished.” Ben snorted softly. “And he can keep it until it grows big enough to carry off a cow.”

There came the skittering of paws, and a golden-haired missile launched itself to land between them on the couch. The wriggling golden lab was all wagging tail and licking tongue. Ben grabbed it and rubbed its head, and then looked into its face.

“Belle, if I told you, you came within an inch of never existing, would you believe me?”

Belle just wriggled her enjoyment from the attention even harder, and Emma stroked the dog’s head, calming her. Belle relaxed between them and Emma stared down at the dog for a few more moments.

“You know what? We should tell someone,” she said.

Ben bobbed his head. “Well, the story was pretty fantastic.”

“So tell it, make your ancestor proud.” She leaned across to him. “After all, it was his correspondence with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that started everything.”

“Maybe I should tell it. As a story, let everyone think it’s fiction, but with a message.” He tilted his head. “Just not under my name.”

“Then use your middle name — Greig — and change Ben to Beck, after one of my favorite singers.” She shrugged. “Let’s call it Primordia, and use it as a warning.”

“Don’t mess with the past, huh?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Our world, us, and everything in it, is all just a big series of fluke events. We can’t mess it up ever again.” Emma nodded to him. “Go on, do it, tell the story.”