Colt’s vision blurred white for half a second before the world came back into focus around him. His stomach settled and the pull in his chest let go. He’d done this enough times now, he’s gotten used to it. He looked at Clay, he hasn’t gotten used to it.

  The ten-second blur passed and the world snapped into focus.

  He straightened up and looked around.

  Green everywhere. Not grass from back home. This was the thick kind that rolled across the valley in waves when the wind pushed through it. The kind of green that hurt to look at because it was so damn green.

  The sky overhead was blue without a single cloud in it. No smoke. No violet bruise hanging over the mountains. Just air that smelled cleaner than anything he’d breathed before.

  Clay stumbled beside him and caught himself on Colt’s shoulder.

  “Holy shit,” Clay breathed.

  Colt turned his head.

  A herd moved through the grass maybe two hundred yards out. Big animals with thick bodies covered in brown hides. They grazed with their heads down, moving slow. Some kind of deer or elk, but bigger than any Colt had seen back home.

  Birds circled overhead with wide wings that caught the light.

  The wind pulled at Colt’s coat and carried sounds he couldn’t name. Animal calls he’d never heard. The rustle of grass that went on for miles.

  No wagons. No people. Nothing built anywhere.

  Just the world before anything got put on top of it.

  Clay let out a long breath. “This don’t even look real, Colt.”

  Colt nodded. His throat felt tight for some reason.

  “Like somebody painted it or somethin’.” Clay turned in a slow circle. “Ain’t never seen grass this green. Or sky this blue.” He stopped when he got to Colt.

  “What’s the map say?” Clay asked.

  Colt focused on the corner of his vision.

  PROJECT: LAST STAND v1.10

  Shinki: 1

  Puha: 130.2

  He opened his interface and focused on Map.

  The display opened up. Most of it was black, but a circle of cleared territory surrounded a flashing dot. Right where he was standing. On top it said EARTH 329.

  Colt studied the cleared area. Behind the flashing dot, a blue line curved through the map. A river. He turned and looked over his shoulder, saw water cutting through a forest, maybe a quarter mile back. The map matched.

  He turned his attention to the other side.

  A marker sat to the east. A small star pulsing on the edge of the cleared area.

  “Looks like it’s on the other side of the forest over—”

  Colt pointed and turned.

  Clay followed his finger.

  The tips of massive trees showed above a hillside to the east. Not pines like back home. These were different. Broader. Their canopy spread wide enough to block out sections of sky.

  “That’s a hell of a tree,” Clay said.

  They started walking.

  The grass reached up past Colt’s knees and made a sound like rushing water when the wind moved through it. His hand went to his revolver, fingers brushing the grip. Nothing out here looked dangerous, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t.

  A cry cut through the valley.

  High-pitched at first, then dropping low into something that rumbled. It came from beyond the hillside where those massive trees stood.

  Colt stopped walking.

  Clay’s hand went to his shotgun. “The hell was that?”

  Another cry answered the first. Closer this time. The sound carried pain in it.

  Colt looked at Clay.

  Clay looked back.

  They ran.

  The hillside rose steep and Colt’s boots dug into the grass as he climbed. His lungs started working hard halfway up.

  Colt crested the hill and stopped.

  The valley spread out below them. Green grass rolled down toward a patch of forest where those massive trees grew thick. And in the clearing between the hill and the trees, something was dying.

  Something lay on its side in the grass. Brown fur matted with blood that looked black against its hide. The animal’s legs kicked once, then went still. Its trunk lifted and dropped.

  Standing over it was something out of a nightmare.

  Short fur covered a body built like a mountain cat but three times the size. Muscles bunched under its shoulders as it moved. Its head dipped low over the mammoth’s neck and when it pulled back, Colt saw the teeth.

  Two fangs curved down from its upper jaw. White bone stained red at the tips.

  “Jesus Christ,” Clay breathed beside him.

  The cat didn’t notice them. It was too focused on its kill. It bit down again and the mammoth’s body jerked.

  Colt’s hand tightened on his revolver. Kevin had said these things were here. The Smilodon. Five hundred pounds. Seven-inch teeth. But seeing it written on a screen was different from watching it tear into something ten times its size.

  The cat’s head snapped up, ears flattened against its skull.

  A sound came from the forest.

  Not a roar. Not a growl. Something between a screech and a hiss that made Colt’s skin crawl.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Five shapes burst from the tree line.

  Birds. But not like any bird Colt had ever seen. They stood tall as a man with legs that ended in curved talons. Their heads sat on long necks and their beaks looked sharp enough to punch through bone. Dark feathers covered their bodies

  They charged across the clearing toward the cat.

  The cat backed away from its kill. Slow at first. Its lips pulled back showing those massive fangs and it let out a warning growl that rumbled across the valley.

  The birds didn’t slow down.

  The lead bird screeched and the other four spread wide, flanking. They moved like they’d done this before.

  The cat held its ground for another second. Then it turned and ran.

  One of the birds gave chase for maybe fifty yards before stopping and screeching again. The others were already at the mammoth, their beaks tearing into the carcass the cat had left behind.

  Colt stood there watching them feed. Their heads jerked up and down as they ripped chunks free. Blood splattered across their feathers.

  Clay’s voice came out quiet. “Those things just ran off the cat.”

  “Yeah.”

  “The cat with the teeth long as my damn forearm.”

  “Yeah.”

  Clay was quiet for a second. Then he said, “We gotta walk through them trees to get to that cave, don’t we.”

  Colt looked at the forest where the birds had come from. The massive trees stood thick with shadows between them.

  “Yeah,” he said. “We do.“

  “Well we can’t exactly cut across this field with them big ass birds right there,” Clay shook his head. “I don’t think we should go that way either.” He nodded in the direction the cat had run. “How about we circle around.”

  “Yeah, let’s move.”

  They started walking, keeping the crest of the hill between them and the clearing below. The grass stayed thick and the ground rolled in waves that made it hard to see more than twenty yards ahead. Colt kept glancing back over his shoulder, watching for those dark-feathered shapes.

  After a few minutes, he couldn’t see the birds anymore. Couldn’t hear them either. Just the wind moving through the grass and the sound of their boots.

  Clay stopped and looked down the slope. The forest sat maybe a hundred yards ahead. Those massive trees rising up with trunks thicker than anything back home.

  “Alright,” Clay said. “Let’s move.”

  They crouched low and started down through the grass. It reached up past Colt’s waist now and he had to push through it with his hands. Each step made the stalks rustle and he tried to move quiet, but quiet wasn’t easy when the grass was this tall.

  Halfway to the trees, Clay spoke up behind him.

  “Oh my god, man.”

  Colt stopped and turned his head. “What.”

  Clay had his hand on the back of his neck, scratching. “Just thinkin’ about what kind of ticks I’m gonna be pullin’ off me later.”

  Colt stared at him.

  “That’s what you’re worried about right now? Ticks?”

  “You seen how thick this grass is?” Clay kept scratching. “Guarantee there’s ticks in here big as your thumb.”

  “Clay, there’s birds out there that just ran off a damn monster cat.”

  “Yeah, well, them birds can’t crawl up my pants.”’ up my pants later.”

  Colt shook his head and kept moving.

  They made it to the trees without anything jumping out at them. The forest edge rose up like a wall, the massive trunks standing close enough together that the canopy blocked out most of the sky. Shadows stretched between them and the temperature dropped the second Colt stepped under the branches.

  He stopped and looked back. The grass field spread out behind them, rolling away toward the valley. No birds. No cat. Nothing moving that he could see.

  Clay came up beside him and looked into the forest. “Alright. Now what.“

  Colt checked his map.

  “I’m guessin’ the forest is about four miles thick right here if we move in a straight line,” he said. “There’s a river in the middle of it though. Can’t tell how deep.”

  Clay looked at the trees ahead. “Well, let’s get it over with.”

  They started walking.

  The forest floor was different from the woods back home. Softer. Thick with dead leaves and moss that made each step quiet. The massive trees rose up on all sides with bark so rough it looked like stone. Vines hung between the trunks and the air smelled wet.

  Light came through in patches where the canopy broke, but most of the forest sat in shadow.

  Colt kept his hand near his revolver. His eyes moved from tree to tree, looking for movement. For shapes that didn’t belong.

  After about twenty minutes, he caught a smell on the air. Water. Clean and cold. The river had to be close.

  Then he saw it.

  A shape ahead between the trees. Big enough that Colt stopped walking and his hand went to his gun.

  Clay came up beside him and went still.

  The thing was massive. Fifteen feet long at least, standing on its hind legs with its front claws hooked into a tree trunk. Brown fur covered its body in thick patches. Its head was small compared to the rest of it, almost too small, with a snout that looked blunt.

  It pulled at the tree with claws as long as Colt’s arm. Bark came away in chunks and the creature stuffed something into its mouth. Leaves, maybe. Or moss.

  “What the hell is that,” Clay whispered.

  Colt watched it chew. Slow. Its jaw working side to side like it had all the time in the world.

  “Some kind of sloth,” Colt said. “Kevin mentioned them. Giant ground sloth.”

  “That ain’t no sloth. Sloths are small.”

  “Not these ones.”

  The creature kept eating. It hadn’t noticed them yet. Or if it had, it didn’t care.

  Colt’s eyes went to those claws. They curved down to points that could gut a man easy. But the thing was just standing there, pulling leaves off branches and chewing.

  “It’s eatin’ plants,” Colt said.

  Clay let out a breath. “So it ain’t gonna eat us?”

  “Don’t think so.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  Colt took a step forward. “Long as we don’t spook it, we should be fine.”

  The sloth’s head turned toward them. Small eyes that looked almost sleepy. It watched them for a second, then went back to eating.

  They walked past it slow, giving it space. The creature didn’t move except to pull more leaves into its mouth.

  When they were far enough away, Clay spoke up again.

  “That thing could’ve killed us easy.”

  “Yeah.”

  “But it just wanted to eat leaves.”

  “Yeah.”

  Clay shook his head. “This place is strange as hell, Colt.“

  The sound of water got louder as they walked. Running over rocks somewhere ahead. The trees thinned a little and more light came through the canopy.

  Colt pushed through a patch of ferns and stopped.

  His hand shot out and caught Clay’s chest.

  Clay froze. “Shit,” he breathed.

  The river cut through the forest maybe thirty yards ahead. Wide enough that Colt couldn’t throw a rock across it. The water moved fast over smooth stones, white foam kicking up where it hit the shallows.

  And drinking from the far bank were the birds.

  Five of them. Dark feathers catching the light that came through the trees. Their heads dipped low to the water, then pulled back up. Watching. Listening. One of them had blood still matting the feathers around its beak.

  Colt’s gut tightened. These were the same ones from the clearing. Had to be.

  He pulled Clay back slow behind a thick tree trunk.

  “We gotta cross that,” Clay whispered.

  Colt looked at the river. Then at the birds. Then back at the river.

  The water wasn’t deep. He could see the bottom through it in most places. Maybe knee-high in the middle. They could wade across in less than a minute if they moved fast.

  But the birds would see them. No question.

  “How fast you think those things run?” Clay asked.

  Colt thought about the way they’d moved in the clearing. The way they’d chased off the big cat. “Way faster than us,” he said.

  One of the birds lifted its head. Its neck stretched up and it looked around, beak opening slightly. The others kept drinking.

  Colt watched them. Counted the distance. Thirty yards to the water. Another thirty across to the trees on the far side. Sixty yards total with nowhere to hide once they broke cover.

  “We could shoot ’em,” Clay said quiet.

  “Five of them. Two of us.” Colt shook his head. “We drop one, maybe two before they close the distance. Then we’re reloading while they’re on us.”

  “So what do we do?”

  Colt looked upstream. The river bent around a curve about a hundred yards up. The trees hung lower there, branches reaching out over the water.

  “We follow the river,” Colt said. “Find a spot where they can’t see us cross.”

  Clay nodded.

  They moved slow through the trees, keeping the river to their right. The sound of it covered their footsteps. Colt kept glancing back toward where the birds were, but the forest blocked his view after a few seconds.

  The river curved and the trees pressed in closer to the banks. Colt stopped where a fallen log stretched partway across the water. Not all the way, but enough to cut the distance they’d have to wade.

  “Here,” he said.

  Clay looked at the log. Looked at the water. “You go first. I’ll cover.”

  Colt stepped out onto the log. The bark was slick under his boots and he had to move careful. The log ended about ten feet from the far bank and he dropped into the water.

  Cold water soaked through his pants. The current pulled at his legs but the bottom was solid. He waded across and climbed up the far bank, then turned back.

  Clay was already on the log. He had his shotgun in one hand and was using the other to balance.

  A screech cut through the forest behind him.

  Clay’s head snapped around and his boot slipped.

  He went sideways off the log and hit the water hard. The splash echoed across the river loud enough to wake the dead.

  “Shit,” Clay said, scrambling to his feet in the shallows.

  More screeches answered. Closer now.

  “Move!” Colt said.

  Clay waded toward him fast, water spraying up around his legs. He was halfway across when the first bird burst through the tree line on the far bank.

  Its head jerked toward them. Those dark eyes locked on.