Sid stared at the latest recruit.
Barbara walked with a slight hunch.
Not because she needed to.
Because she always had.
Her enormous frame bore almost no resemblance to the body she must have possessed in life. Dinosaur bones reinforced her limbs and spine, her shoulders were absurdly broad, and she stood nearly nine feet tall.
Yet the mannerisms remained.
The slight stoop.
The measured stride.
Even the way one shoulder dipped as she walked.
“Remarkable…” Sid muttered.
He stroked his chin.
“Subject appears to retain behavioural habits despite possessing an entirely different skeletal structure.”
Barbara kept walking.
“The posture should be different.”
No response.
“The gait should be different.”
Another pause.
“The centre of gravity should be comple—”
“I’ve heard enough.”
Barbara sighed.
Sid blinked.
“What?”
“You’ve been talking about me in the third person for ten minutes.”
“Have I?”
“Yes,” Alan said.
Sid considered this.
“Interesting.”
Barbara’s shoulders sagged.
“The subject appears mildly frustrated.”
“Sid—”
“I’ve observed similar behaviour in the others shortly after revival.”
He tapped his chin.
“Heightened emotional responses. Irritability. Panic. Perhaps something about the resurrection process decreases emotional stability.”
Silence.
Alan stared at him.
His amber eye lights narrowed.
“Annoying.”
Sid looked over.
A pause.
“Ah.”
He nodded thoughtfully.
“Astute.”
Barbara made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan.
They continued.
A distant rumble travelled through the stone from somewhere far above.
Barbara glanced upward.
Alan did the same.
Sid had already wandered several paces ahead, apparently unconcerned.
Barbara looked back at Alan.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
“What’s your story?”
Alan was quiet for a moment.
“I think I was thirty-two.”
“You think?”
“Some of it’s getting difficult.”
He looked down at his hands.
“I had a decent apartment. I was in good shape.”
A faint chuckle.
“My girlfriend was a keeper.”
Barbara listened.
“Always making jokes about things that weren’t even fu—”
Alan stopped.
His hand rose to his skull.
Silence.
“I can’t remember her face.”
Barbara slowed.
Alan pressed his fingers harder against his temple.
“I…”
Nothing came.
His hand fell.
For several steps, only the drip of distant water followed them.
“…What about you?” he finally asked.
Barbara gave a low chuckle.
“I died in a hospital bed.”
Alan looked up.
“Seventy-nine.”
She adjusted the enormous dinosaur skull hanging from her arm.
“Good age.”
A pause.
“Good life, too.”
Her green eye lights dimmed slightly.
“Until my body finally failed me.”
Alan nodded.
Ahead of them, Sid stopped beside another mineral deposit.
“Anyway, if we find coal, this expedition will be considered a tremendous success.”
Neither answered.
They walked on.
Alan stared at his hands.
“She always wanted to go skydiving.”
Barbara looked at him.
“I thought we had time.”
Silence.
“What was her occupation?” Sid asked.
Alan stopped.
Barbara closed her eyes.
Or made the closest skeletal approximation possible.
“Sid.”
Sid turned eagerly.
“Yes?”
“Has anyone ever told you…”
Alan paused.
“Fuck.”
Another pause.
“You.”
Sid tilted his head.
Then looked at Barbara.
“Giantess?”
Barbara stared down at him.
“Uh?”
“Are you proficient in combat?”
“I used to know some things.”
“Good.”
Sid nodded.
“Then it’s decided.”
Barbara stopped.
“What is?”
“You’re going to hunt a dinosaur.”
“No.”
Sid was already moving on.
“Excellent. Now then…”
“No. That was a complete sentence.”
He gestured toward the crystal formations around them.
“Do you see those?”
Barbara glanced across the cavern.
“Yeah?”
“They’re nearly perfect for what we need before reaching the Iron Age.”
She looked back at him.
“The Iron Age?”
“But we can barely harvest them.”
Sid pulled the dimmed crystal from his belt.
“They carve bone exceptionally well and fracture softer stone.”
He flicked a finger against its surface.
Clink.
“Yet the formations themselves are remarkably resistant to breaking.”
His blue eye lights narrowed.
“Interesting material.”
Alan groaned.
Sid continued.
“If we could produce iron tools, though…”
He looked toward Barbara.
“A pickaxe might let us harvest them properly.”
Barbara nodded once.
“Useful.”
“Extremely.”
Sid glanced toward a thick blue crystal jutting from the wall.
“I’d ask you to break that one off.”
Barbara followed his gaze.
Sid shrugged.
“But I doubt you’re strong enough.”
Silence.
Alan looked at Sid.
Then at Barbara.
Then quietly moved several steps away.
Barbara handed him the dinosaur skull.
“Hold this.”
Alan’s amber eye lights widened.
“Oh, no.”
She was already walking toward the crystal.
Sid’s jaw rattled.
“Hehehe…”
“It’s all wrong.”
Elias crouched beside the dried moss.
The crude kiln stood nearby, its clay walls now firm enough to hold their shape. Beside it lay the pyrite they had carried from the blue cavern.
Elias struck it against a piece of limestone.
Clack.
Nothing.
Again.
Clack.
Nothing.
Kaya sat on a rock beside the stream, watching him fail.
“The pyrite is fine,” Elias muttered. “The tinder is dry enough.”
Another strike.
Nothing.
“The problem is the limestone. Too soft.”
Kaya rested her chin on one hand.
“Have you tried the red crystal?”
“Trial and error is not a substitute for—”
Elias stopped.
He looked at her.
Then at the glowing red crystal tucked into his belt.
Silence.
Kaya raised both hands.
“What?”
Elias slowly pulled it free.
“You may be right.”
“Obviously.”
“I said may.”
He positioned the pyrite.
Then struck.
CLACK.
Sparks scattered across the stone.
Both skeletons froze.
Elias struck again.
CLACK.
A shower of orange sparks landed in the dried moss.
A tiny ember appeared.
Then another.
Smoke curled upward.
The moss began to smoulder.
Kaya slid off the rock and crouched beside it.
“Oh.”
A faint orange glow spread through the tinder.
For the first time since any of them had awakened, something burned.
Not crystal light.
Not magic.
Fire.
Elias stared at it.
Kaya stared at him.
The ember strengthened.
Elias slowly shook his head.
“Remarkable.”
“What is?”
“I appear to be an idiot.”
Kaya laughed.
Elias ignored her and carefully fed more dried moss into the growing flame.
Once it held, he turned toward the kiln.
Beside it sat his other experiment.
Two thick pieces of dried clay formed a crude mould. Their outer surfaces were rough and uneven, but Elias had carefully shaped the interior around the form he wanted.
Kaya walked over.
“What’s that?”
“A casting mould.”
“For?”
“Eventually?”
Elias pointed at the cavity.
“Metal.”
Kaya stared at him.
“We don’t have metal.”
“We have ore.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“No.”
“Of course it isn’t.”
Elias picked up a crude clay vessel.
“The kiln traps heat. Ore goes inside this.”
He tapped the bowl.
“If we reach a sufficient temperature and the ore is suitable, we may be able to extract usable metal.”
Kaya pointed at the mould.
“And then?”
“Pour it in here.”
She looked between the kiln, the bowl and the mould.
“That’s it?”
“In principle.”
Kaya narrowed her eye lights.
“And in reality?”
Elias looked at the kiln.
“The kiln may crack.”
He raised the bowl.
“The vessel may crack.”
He pointed at the mould.
“The mould may crack.”
Another pause.
“The fuel may not burn hot enough.”
Another.
“The ore may not contain anything useful.”
Kaya stared at him.
“That sounds like a lot of assumptions.”
“Yes.”
Elias nodded.
“Engineering often is.”