A/N: This was not intended as a Dino Crisis fic, but I figured it would fit in nicely.
Unlike the popular belief, there is nothing stopping man from taking a breakfast with Dinosaurs… Or being a Dinosaur's breakfast, all depending.
Well, nothing but the fact it is impossible to travel backward in time.
Albert Einstein once said there were no laws of physic to prevent time travel, but that to do so, one would need and infinite source of energy, he also laid down the mathematical principles that would allow such travels, the idea being the normal life lives only in four dimensions, although there are hundreds of dimensions. It is impossible to go back in time, just like it is impossible for debris of an explosion (In this case, the Big Bang) to travel toward the center of detonation, but it is possible to find a dimension parallel to time trough which one can travel up and downstream to emerge at any given time.
Thirty years later, Nikola Tesla created a source of energy drawing power directly from the space surrounding it. Back then, the technology was crude, barely more powerful than a car battery and most prototype were destroyed for unknown reasons.
Now, more than a hundred years latter, the technology has evolved exponentially and, would Einstein and Tesla still be alive, they would agree that time travel should and most probably does exist at least on paper.
Most would wonder 'why not use it then? Go back in time, study the Earth in its infant stages and change the world?'
Tesla and Einstein would likely be very amused by this and their answers would most certainly revolve around 'How do you pull the plug on an infinite power source?'
Indeed, creating a wormhole trough a fifth dimension to link our time with any other would give us a two way access, but such a force cannot be controlled, it would be like trying to blow on a tornado to push it away from your house.
Such portal would take the form of a mirror-like liquid surface the size of a doorway, or, if more pessimist experts are right, a continents spanning cloud, linking both eras together like two photo negatives held over each others, because of Earth's rotation, the impossibility to close the portal and the basic concept of Chaos Theory that everything that can go wrong will go wrong in the worst possible way.
Of course, such risks are trivial when you think of all the possibilities and scientists from a NATO joint venture have started testing the technology in a program called Project: Poor Team.
Now; answer to all of the universe's question or face to face with the planet's former owners? Flip a coin.
There's always a mysterious guy in school, the dark and silent tough guy girls droll over and boys make fun of, but who has that 'Don't give a fuck' attitude that always inspire respect from even the most self-centered dumbass.
The kind of people you write stories out of, make movies, sometimes, heroes, some might say. No matter how much everyone around them tries, they're still better at everything…
That guy ain't me. I'm the weirdo who's had thousands of adventures out of which some might even be real. Compulsive liar? Maybe, but I don't see myself as one, peoples are smart enough to tell the bullshit apart from the real deal and most of the time, telling these stories as mine just allows me to get a point across.
Right now, the dark mysterious guy is shooting at me while I'm laying flat on my stomach, surrounded by high grasses and a few small trees.
I'm located on a light slope leading down to a shallow stream I was about to cross before Kev shat on my position with his E-grip equipped god damned marker; that thing shits bullets like a fire hose. Paint and bits of plastic are flying all over the place and spraying my visor with pale green droplets.
The automatic fire stops and I hear Keven calling:
"Aren't you dead yet?"
For all answer, I push myself out of the grass and pepper the tree he's hiding behind with single-fire. The weird ass blue fog surrounding us coupled with the sprayed paint and my breath fogging up the visor means I can't see for shit, so I really just shoot blindly hoping to hit.
The guy let loose a stream of automatic fire in response and I find myself riddled with paint bullets; two in the legs, one just bellow the navel, two on my trigger finger and one in the face.
Fuck that hurts!
"Dead!" I call, still carried forward by the desperate dash… right before tripping on a branch and falling face first in the water. Kev's not the type that laughs at your face when shit happens to you, but he knows I never take offence at anything, so I get to be told how much I failed.
"Shut up." Something's wrong with my mask; it's too loose and feels somewhat lower that usual.
Closer inspection reveals I broke it near the left temple, just after the spot where the thing links up wit the face part, causing the thing to come loose and let the whole mask just hang on my face.
Nothing some duct tape won't fix, only not today, I guess, since I'll have to make my way to the cars to get tools, and we're many kilometers away from civilization.
I lift my hands in the air and get out of the stream, gun held by the cannon.
Seems the game is over for me, so I head over to the encampment, arms raised over my head or held in front of me in a Zombie-like shuffling. Hey, I'm a walking dead, ain't I?
The clearing that serves as our 'Dead' area is set down a pretty steep slope and surrounded by a thin stream of water. My boots, already filled with water, sink in the stream with all the way to my ankles.
We deconstructed the camp for the game, but I easily find my tent; it's the smallest and brightest of the lot, being a two midgets tent (The cover says two persons, but I'm alone and barely fit in it) and a fluorescent yellow tint. Next to the bunched up Gore-tex shelter is my rucksack, filled with food, water and ammo pods. The thing is a faded yellow, matching the tent, somewhat, and has tons of items strapped over it; axe, diving knife, multi-tool
This game is actually more of a week long survival trip, living like we were on a battlefield, fighting until we all run out of ammo food or water, and even then, some of us like to push it by scrounging the necessaries off the land and being conservative on the bullets. I went along with them once, since I had plenty of rounds left.
Never again; I spent three days gathering berries, eating worms and all around starving.
I loved it, although I'm too whiny to admit it.
Anyway, most people here are military or want to be, and I'm not really an exception, being a reservist, but I don't plan of making a career out of the army I got too much of a loud mouth and not enough discipline for that, up until very recently, I wanted to be a paleontologist, wanted to ever since I saw Jurassic Park when I was…
Hell, I'm born in 1991 and the movie came out in 1993, you do the math. But that didn't go very well; not good at school… Not good at much, all around, except surviving in the wild and telling stories at a campfire, so now I work with my father and grand-father in a semi-legal hunting business where we bring tourists hunting stuff on the spot of land my family owns in the north of Quebec.
They like sending tourists with me because I'm a good tracker, a lot friendlier than my father and not halfway deaf and more than halfway blind, like my grand-father.
And, of course, tourists love it when I tell them native tales about the animals in this place and show them how to kill their quarry in a way that respect the animal's soul. They think it's fun to watch superstitious crap like that, I think a little respect never hurt anyone.
Even the predators in the wild have some, why couldn't we?
And once every month, no matter the weather, I take a week to go with the boys on a Survival game .
The rest... well, most are here because they are aiming for SpecWar, Joint Task Force two, maybe CSOR, others want to become snipers and a some are actual veterans who think watching us struggle is fucking hilarious.
"Dead already?" Laurie, a vet, asks, her skull mask smiling at me.
The girl is sitting next to the campfire, straight in the middle of the camp. Wonder how xomes I didn't see her…
"So are you?" I reply, nodding to the orange marks on her sleeve.
She lifts the skull, revealing a smile that is even scarier than the skull.
"Yeah, but I didn't break my mask in the process." I notice she's holding a marshmallow over the fire with a pretty short knife. Heat must be hard to bear, but I guess it's the point.
I'm glad for the fire, as it keeps the fog at bay. Shit is creeping me out.
"Woulda been a shame…" I pick up a bag of ramens and my boiler. "Want some?" I offer the snipe-excuse me: Squad Designated Marksman…
"Nah, I'm good." As I advance toward the fire, meal in hands, I notice she has a scoped hunting rifle on her lap and that worries me, as I've never seen anyone in camp take out the real guns unless there's a predator around.
"Bear?" I question, pointing to her gun with my diving knife before using said knife to cut open my bag of noodles.
Laurie's face takes a careful expression. I'm not the most easily scared member of the team, far from it, I often go wild camping by myself, but I ain't really a soldier either and that makes her uneasy around me when shit hits the fan.
I am prone to panic, in fact, and can actually feel it creeping inside me right now, like mashed ice being forced down my throat. I just don't let it get to me… Yet.
"I don't know," She finally admits, "I saw something, though, small, fast, might have been a wolf, I don't know…"
What? All that fuss for a wolf? Shit all mighty what's wrong with that girl? I must have met half a dozen wolves while camping by myself; they're rarely ever a danger to an adult person and much less to a large group of them, unless they are very hungry.
"…But I doubt it; it was way too curious and not sneaky enough. Whatever it was, it wasn't afraid of me."
Okay, I'm officially scared shitless.
Laurie's graying pony-tail wiggles a bit in the wind as a round whistles past her head, making us both duck as a firefight breaks out on either side of the clearing, hesitantly at first, with just the occasional shot on both sides to be sure someone is actually shooting back and soon turning into a metaphorical shitstorm.
The woman rakes the bolt of her rifle before realizing she's not in Afghanistan. She the flips the safety back on and, in a sharp nod, drops the skull back before her face.
The firefight lasts a minute without anyone getting killed and both groups finally retreating.
I get back up to look at Laurie as she removes her mask and prepares another marshmallow.
"Was it like that in Afghanistan?" I finally ask the vet, awkwardly. I know it's rude and all, but I'm curious.
She actually smiles, "If it had been like that, I wouldn't be here to talk about it. Things were mostly slow paced, most of the time, like the desert was trying to lull you into feeling safe… No matter how hard you focused, you'd almost certainly end up slipping and then, shit would hit the fan, even if you were careless for just a split second, someone would step on an IED or a sniper would start picking your guys out."
I nod, deciding not ask about it again. Ever.
I like Laurie, she's one of the only people here I actually get along with, most other being so fucking stuck on religion or patriotism there is no way for us to hold a conversation without quickly coming to the point I need to leave or risk shooting them all in the face.
See, I was born catholic, but soon decided it was all bullshit and figured I'd find my own beliefs, as, when you think about it, my guess is as good as anyone else's, so I became an animist, somewhat like Native-Americans of old.
I'm about to ask her how her daughter is doing, but something in the forest emits an inhuman screech, causing my mind to go blank.
The scream is like a chainsaw… Yeah, maybe it is a chainsaw, we're in a forest, after all… But just as I convince myself of this, the scream begins anew, this time more articulate.
It's human and it's asking for help… Of course, Laurie is on her feet running toward it in an heartbeat and, not wanting to be left alone, I follow suit.