Return To Primordial Island, Rick Poldark [top non fiction books of all time .TXT] 📗

island that your grenade launchers and ‘copters can’t touch.”

Collins snickered and looked at Nielsen. “What in the hell is she talking about…supernatural?” His amusement faded when he saw the grave look on Nielsen’s face.

Nielsen stabbed a finger into the air. “Funny you should mention that…” He pressed some keys on his laptop. “Our technicians analyzed the flight recorder your expedition recovered, Dr. Moran. They found something…unusual. Something strange.”

“Something stranger than an island from another dimension with dinosaurs?” quipped Collins.

  A chill shot down Tracey’s spine, and her skin erupted in goosebumps.

“Let me play it for you,” said Nielsen, pressing a button. A voice recording played out of his speakers. It was the pilot talking. His chatter turned to panic, then static, then an eerie, scratchy voice over the static, ‘Cooooooome to meeeeee.’ Then more static.

“What was that?” gasped Tracey.

Nielsen held up a hand, signaling it wasn’t over yet. ‘You’re miiiiiine!’ Then nothing.

Everyone in the room was silent, exchanging horrified looks.

“Maybe explain what else happened on the island,” said Nielsen.

Tracey swallowed hard. “The island affected some people in rather peculiar and…unnatural ways. The previous team leader, Mike Deluca, found something in a temple, deep underground. It changed him. It allowed him to raise the dead. He…he created zombies.”

“This is ridiculous,” said someone in the room. “You expect us to believe all this?”

“Believe it,” said Nielsen. “Your life literally depends on it. If anyone wants to back out, now is the time. If you’re not on board with all of this, you’re a liability. You have one hour to decide.” He closed his laptop and thanked Rudy, shaking his hand. “Prep your team. We go in exactly one hour.” Then he turned to Tracey. “Are you sure you’re still up for this?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You do, as a matter of fact. What do you think of our preparations?”

Tracey paused a moment. “Your intel is spot on. Do you think Collins and his men can handle it?”

“Short of using the actual military, his outfit is the best there is, and they are better equipped than Torres’ men. We spared no expense this time.”

Tracey’s eyes narrowed. “What’s Poseidon’s interest in all this? You got paid for recovering the flight recorder.”

“We still have people on the island. You still have people on the island, Dr. Moran.”

“That’s exactly what David Lennox said.”

“He’s correct.”

“Come on,” pressed Tracey. “There has to be something else. Some other reason.”

Nielsen smiled, a strange departure from his permanent scowl. “You mean first dibs on the exploration of another dimension?”

“Yes, but to what end?”

He winked at her. “That’s for us to worry about. You worry about bringing your friend home and helping keep our team safe.” He bowed his head slightly and left the cafeteria.

Marcy approached cautiously, eyes wide in awe and apparent admiration. “Holy smokes. I had no idea it was you. I mean, you were her. Uh, you were you.”

Tracey smirked. “Who else would I be?”

Marcy cocked her head sideways. “Come on. You know what I mean.”

“Marcy, you don’t have to do this. Go home.”

Marcy raised her eyebrows. “No way. Are you kidding? This sounds…”

“Dangerous,” said Tracey, finishing her sentence.

“I was thinking like an experience of a lifetime. Come on, Tracey. You’re going.”

“I have unfinished business on the island. I left someone behind that I care about very much.”

Marcy gasped. “The other paleontologist?”

Tracey nodded. “You have your whole life ahead of you.”

“Yeah, but I want to be a part of history. Another dimension, dinosaurs. This is huge.”

“That island changes people. You may not like what you find out about yourself.”

That remark clearly confused Marcy.

Tracey threw her hands up in exasperation. Her appeal was falling on deaf ears. “Listen, you stay close to me and do as I say. Understood?”

Marcy grinned from ear to ear and her eyes lit up. “Yes. Whatever you say.”

“You know that nephew of yours?”

Marcy nodded.

“You might want to say goodbye to him.”

* * *

Peter entered a large stone structure with impressive pillars in front. While the other buildings had windows, this one did not. He marveled at the architecture, which was amazing for a species with only three clawed fingers and no opposable thumbs. It was cold and dark, multi-colored orbs casting peculiar light. A strange, discordant music piped in from an unknown source. They passed through a large antechamber stocked with around a dozen guards, and he was led to a crude staircase. Two of the guards he followed stood aside, allowing everyone else to climb the stairs. When Peter passed them, they stood in front of the staircase, guarding it. Peter wasn’t sure if it was to keep others out or him in.

When they reached a landing up above, they turned left and marched down a long hallway. On the walls, runes were arranged, set in the stone. The pattern, if there was any, seemed haphazard to Peter. At last, they brought him to a set of double stone doors. One of the guards waved a claw over a rune, and the door opened to the sound of stone grinding on stone.

The guards stepped aside, gesturing for Peter to enter. Not wanting to be rude, Peter did as he was asked and stepped into the dark room where the strange, almost cosmic music was louder. As the door closed behind him, he was enveloped in darkness. In the pitch black, Peter was unsure how large the room actually was. He focused on his power from the orbs embedded in his chest, and in response they grew in illumination. However, his light was snuffed out by the darkness around him, as if it was alive and hungry, devouring his light.

“Hello?” His voice echoed, indicating that the room was of significant size.

As if in answer, a single