Day of the Predator - Alex Scarrow [119]
Forby shook his head. ‘You’re telling me one person can actually change a whole … world?’
Cartwright sighed, clearly frustrated by the narrow-minded thinking of his subordinate. ‘Of course, Forby. Think about it, man. If … if a certain Jewish carpenter hadn’t made his mark two thousand years ago, it wouldn’t be In God We Trust on a dollar note, but Gods.’
Forby frowned. A patriot. No one dissed the mighty dollar. Not on his watch.
‘And our friend’s much much further back in time than Jesus,’ added Sal.
‘Small changes in the past,’ quoted Maddy, remembering the first time Foster had spoken to them, bringing them that tray of coffees and doughnuts, a simple and strangely reassuring gesture in that surreal moment of awakening. ‘Small changes in the past can make enormous changes in the present.’
Cartwright glanced towards the nearby riverbank. ‘We should go and explore a little –’ He stopped dead in his tracks.
‘Look!’
Maddy followed his wavering finger, pointing across the broad river to the low hump of island that was once Manhattan. She squinted painfully, her eyes not so great without glasses. She managed to detect the slightest sense of movement. ‘What is it?’
‘People?’ uttered Sal. ‘Yes … it’s people!’
‘A settlement of some kind,’ added Cartwright.
She thought she could make out a cluster of circular dwellings down by the waterside and several pale thin plumes of smoke rising up into the sky.
‘Look,’ said Forby, ‘there’s a boat.’
Halfway across the river, calm and subdued, barely a ripple upon its glass-smooth surface, was the long dark outline of some canoe. Aboard they could see half a dozen figures paddling the vessel across the river towards them.
‘They look odd,’ said Sal, shading her eyes from the sun. ‘They’re … they’re moving all funny.’
Cartwright seemed eager to rush down to the riverside and greet them. ‘We should go and make contact.’
‘No,’ said Maddy. ‘Really, I don’t think we should.’
‘Why not?’ he asked. ‘The things we could learn from each other! The knowledge of another –’
‘Maybe the girl’s right,’ said Forby. ‘They could be hostile, sir.’
He shook his head, his face an expression of bemusement. ‘This is an incredible moment of history!’
‘But that’s just it … this isn’t history. This isn’t meant to happen,’ said Maddy. ‘Those people shouldn’t exist. This is a what if reality … this is a never shoulda happened reality, Cartwright. Do you get it? The last thing we need to do is go and make friends with it.’
‘I’m not so sure they’re people, anyway,’ said Sal, quietly watching the canoe approach the nearby riverbank. A hundred and fifty yards away, the long canoe rode up gracefully on to the silt. The figures aboard the boat put down their paddles in the bottom and began, one by one, to jump off the front and on to the mud.
Even Maddy could now make out that they weren’t human.
‘My God, look at their legs,’ whispered Forby. ‘Like … just like goat’s legs, dog’s legs.’
‘Dinosaur legs,’ added Cartwright. ‘In fact, therapod legs. A bit like velociraptors.’
‘Forget their legs,’ said Sal, ‘check out their heads!’
Maddy squinted, wondering whether her eyes were playing tricks on her. ‘They look like bananas?’
‘Elongated,’ said Forby, shaking his own head. ‘Weirdest damned thing I ever seen. They look sort of extra-terrestrial.’ He turned to the others, his voice lowered. ‘My God! Do you think that’s what they are? A species of alien that’s arrived and colonized our world?’
Cartwright dismissed the man. ‘The legs suggest some possible ancestral link to dinosaurs. The heads? Damned if I know where that shape has come from.’
They watched the creatures spread out along the silt, holding spears in their hands and probing the mud with them.
‘What are they doing, do you think?’ asked Maddy.
As if in answer to her question, some unrecognizable pig-sized creature emerged from a hole in the mud and scurried across the silt towards another hole. The nearest of the banana-heads quickly raised his spear and threw it with practised efficiency. It skewered