The Nibiru Effect

Memory 56

The air is hot and humid. My forehead glistens with sweat, and my feet are beginning to hurt. It feels like we've been walking for days, but the position of the sun tells me it's only been a few hours.

"How are you doing?" asks Kara, slowing her pace so I can catch up.

"I'm exhausted," I admit, too tired to pretend otherwise. "You?"

"I'm fine," she says, but it's a lie. She isn't merely fine; she's great. Never before have I seen such a resilient individual. Not only does she have a spring in her step and a smile on her lips, but she isn't even sweating. In fact, she looks as beautiful now as she did when I first met her. It's almost as if she isn't quite human.

"How do you do it?" I ask.

"Excuse me?"

"We're trapped in the past, desperately struggling to survive, while also trying to stop a psychopathic maniac from altering the past. How can you be so relaxed?"

Kara chuckles.

"I'm not," she admits. "I've just learned to compartmentalize. This is all I've known for the past... Wow. I can't even remember how long it's been since this all started."

We progress in silence for a while.

"What do you do when you're not... well, you know..." I begin, but I'm not sure how to finish the question.

"Jumping from time to time, trying to keep the past from being altered?" suggests Kara.

I chuckle. "Yeah. I guess that pretty much sums it up."

Kara chuckles too, but then her expression grows dark.

"I don't really have a life outside this," she admits. "My father and I have spent the past few years chasing Avalon. My friends have moved on, and my family... well, Dad is all I have."

"What about your mother?"

"She's dead."

There's a moment of silence during which I don't know what to say. Should I inquire further or change the subject? I'm still struggling to decide when Jonn stops dead in his tracks.

"What's wrong?" asks Kara.

"I hear something," whispers Jonn.

We all listen for a few seconds, but all I hear is the cawing of birds, the cracking of branches and the occasional distant roar of a dinosaur.

"I don't hear any—" I begin, but I stop mid-sentence when I notice a noise I haven't heard before.

I close my eyes and focus on it. It sounds like a buzzing cell phone, yet I know for a fact those haven't been invented yet.

"That sounds like..." I begin, still searching for an answer. It's right on the tip of my tongue, but it's not until the buzzing intensifies that I finally recognize it.

"...MOSQUITOS!" I finish, just as a dozen flying insects emerge from the trees.

They're massive. Their bodies are as big as my fist, while their wings out-measure my open hand by a good two centimetres. But the scariest part is the ten-centimetre long darts that protrude from their heads.

I barely have time torecover from the unexpected appearance of the prehistoric insects before theyattack. Within seconds, I have been stung a dozen times, and the numbing agentreleased into my bloodstream overpowers my nervous system. With a final gruntof distress, I crumble. The last thing I see is the ground speeding up towardme. Then, there's nothing but darkness.