Primordia: In Search of the Lost World

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Benjamin Cartwright ran like never before in his life. Damp green fronds slapped at his face, thorns ripped his skin, and elastic vines tried to lasso every part of his body. But he barged, burrowed, and sprinted as if the devil was after him.

Because it was.

The thing that followed him pushed trees from its path, and its carnivore breath was like a steam train huffing and hissing as it bore down on him. He whimpered, pivoting at a boulder and changing direction. The roar came then, making leathery-winged avian creatures take flight from the canopy overhead, and causing his testicles to shrink in his sweat-soaked trousers.

Cartwright accelerated, and immediately an explosive breeze hit his face as the jungle opened out. He skidded to a stop, squinting against it. He was at the cliff edge that dropped away to a green carpet over a thousand feet below.

He stared for a split moment; the strange low cloud swirled all around him, and he knew he only had hours before he’d be trapped forever. He grimaced and turned. Already the trees were being pushed aside as his pursuer caught up to him. He’d seen what it did to Baxter, and the thought of it happening to him liquefied his bowels.

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