The Nibiru Effect

Memory 68

Eyes. Tentacles. Tails. Every centimetre of exposed skin is attacked. For some reason, I'm spared, though that does little to comfort me. It's only a matter of time before all that pecking compromises my mount's ability to remain affixed to the cliff, and when that happens, we will both plummet to our deaths.

I may be afraid of heights, but I'm more afraid of death. It's thus with surprisingly little doubt that I release the snail's eye stalks and spin around so I'm facing away from the wall. I grab hold of the shell's lip for stability and kick the nearest Pterodactyl square in the face. It releases a surprised squawk and drops half a metre, but then goes right back to pecking. I try again, with a similar result. Only this time the flying dinosaur snaps at me and only barely misses my foot. I'm tempted to try again, but I fear it will put the beast in a state of frenzy and that's the last thing I want. I have no choice but to watch as the Pterodactyls peck away at my mount.

Just when I think all is lost, the snail does something so unexpected I can't help laughing. It retreats into its shell, protecting itself from the onslaught. One look at my surroundings reveals the other giant mollusks have done the same. For a brief moment I think we're safe, but then the Pterodactyls start pecking again. Only this time they're focusing on the shells, not the flesh.

I don't know how thick prehistoric snail shells are, but I suspect they can withstand the repeated onslaught of Pterodactyl beaks. Unfortunately, the winged predators are only getting started. The pecking continues for a while before one of them flies away. Thinking this is the beginning of a retreat, I breathe a sigh of relief. By the time I realize my mistake, it's already too late.

The Pterodactyl soars high into the air, spins around, and dives straight toward the snail it only just abandoned. It gains speed with each passing second. By the time it finally reaches the snail, it's travelling at such high velocity it's nothing more than a blur. But it snaps right back into focus as soon as the tip of its beak makes contact with the giant mollusk. Seemingly unaffected by the brutal impact, the Pterodactyl hovers and watches as the snail wobbles. It sways from side to side for a few seconds before dropping.

I watch with a mixture of awe and horror as the snail plummets. I follow its trajectory until it whistles past me. It passes so close I could reach out and touch it. I don't, of course. Nor do I continue watching once it drops past me. The last thing I need right now is to be reminded of how high I am.

There's a distant thud, followed by a long silence. Then, as if reacting to a soundless command, the Pterodactyls fly off and start pummeling the snails. Not all fall as quickly as the first one, but it doesn't take long before dozens start plummeting. One slams into a fragment of the former staircase. The stone steps shatter, sending debris flying in all direction. I feel sorry for the poor snail, but at least now I know what happened to the staircase. It also proves this isn't the first time the prehistoric mollusks are attacked. But I forget all about that when a high-pitched scream reaches my ears.

I look up just in time so see Kara soaring through the air. At first, I think she's falling, but then I realize her trajectory isn't steep enough for that. That can only mean one thing.

She jumped.

I don't understand why she would do such a thing until she lands in a nearby tree. The first branch smacks her in the face, but she manages to hang on to the second one. Within moments, her fall has been interrupted, and she's safely sitting on a branch, her back resting against the trunk.

It was an impressive jump made all the more remarkable by the fact that she was almost at the very top of the cliff when she leapt. What I don't understand is why she chose to jump. It's not until I look up at the spot where her snail used to be that it all makes sense.

She didn't want to jump; she had to jump. I wonder if I would ever have the guts to—

"Jump!" yells Kara before I can finish the thought. "You have to jump!"

I stare at her in disbelief. Deep down I know it's only a matter of time before my snail is targeted, but the fear that courses through my veins keeps me from even considering the possibility of taking a leap of faith.

"You have to jump!" repeats Kara. I know she's trying to help, but I don't care.

"No!" I refuse, tightening my grip. The shell feels strong, safe.

"WATCH OUT!" yells Kara. At first, I think she's trying to motivate me, but the horror-stricken look on her face tells me it's no act. I look up and see it.

A Pterodactyl—the biggest one I've seen so far—dives toward me, its beak pointed straight at me. He will be upon me in mere less than thirty seconds.

"JUMP!" orders Kara.

I try, but my limbs have stopped working. I'm too terrified to move. I can barely even speak.

"I-I can't," I whimper.

"Yes!" insists Kara. "You can! And you WILL!"

I want to believe her, but my acrophobia overpowers me. I peer over the edge, and the sight of all those fallen snails littering the ground far below me makes my vision swim. I try to focus, but the world is nothing more than a blur. I'm vaguely aware of Kara yelling. I can make out a shape above me, drawing nearer, yet I can't estimate its exact distance. All I know is, unless I overcome my fear, I will die.

It's with sweaty palms and a thumping heart that I release my mount's shell. I unfold my legs until I'm standing. The world is spinning so fast I can barely see, yet I somehow manage to retain my balance. I hear the whistling of the approaching Pterodactyl. Though I can't see, I can tell it's almost upon me. If there was ever a time to overcome my fear of heights, it's now.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I hold it for a second, then exhale. I'm hoping it will clear my vision, but it doesn't. If anything, it makes things worse. I can no longer differentiate up from down, left from right. And the whistling in my ear tells me I'm out of time.

Just when I think all is lost, Kara's voice reaches me. It envelopes me in a cocoon of comfort, momentarily allowing me to regain control of my body. Taking full advantage of my renewed strength, I take in my surroundings.

The Pterodactyl is only metres away. In less than a second, its beak will puncture my body.

The snail is already swaying softly, ensuring one strike is all it will take to send it tumbling.

A few metres before me stands a massive tree. It's the same one Kara used to break her fall. It's a long jump, but it's my only option.

I close my eyes, take adeep breath, and leap.