Everybody Loves A Hero
(Primeval American Style!)
Main Cast:
Matty Wilder ... Eric Balfour
Melanie Kowalski ... Amy Acker
Valerie Kane ... Jennifer Beals
Fletcher Malloy ... Jensen Ackles
John Foster ... Alex Carter
Chapter 1: Matty
It was a long way down.
It wouldn't be fun if it wasn't.
Matthew Horatio Wilder knew better than to consider the possible outcomes of a fall from this height. He had climbed cliffs and canyons in every continent on earth, including Antarctica, as part of one geological survey or another, but the one climb he had always wanted, the one he had promised himself he would get round to when he had the time, was the one he was doing now. It was the Grand Canyon, Arizona.
This climb was just for fun. There were no rock samples to be taken, no laser measurements to be precisely noted down. Even without the usual scientific field work, though, he'd already been climbing for hours. The top of the canyon was in view, but a ledge where he could rest his aching muscles was closer. He worked his way sideways and anchored himself in, unhooking the water flask from his belt and drinking deeply once he was sure the cams were holding.
When the metal flask slipped out of his grip he swore and looked down, expecting to see the bright blue canister bounce gracefully from rock to rock as it tumbled towards oblivion.
It didn't.
Instead, Matty Wilder found himself staring at a pulsating yellowish light that blocked his view of the canyon floor. It hadn't been there before. He would have noticed it as he climbed. It wasn't an optical illusion from the canyon floor either: there was nothing down there that could cause such an thing and the rock wall protruded too much for a direct line of sight downwards anyway.
The sound of metal scraping on rock brought Matty's attention back to his climbing gear with a sudden shock: the cams were moving. Although locked in position, the metal anchors were now gouging deep wounds out of the rock face, like fingers being dragged slowly through sand on a beach. Matty looked down at his kit belts: the metal wires, cams and carabiners were dangling towards the light as though they were being pulled. In fact they were being pulled: he was sure of it now.
Between the extra weight pulling him downwards and the extraordinary behaviour of the anchoring cams, Matty decided it was time his rest stop was over. He found new handholds and footholds, then released the cams.
It was the worst thing he could have done.
Without the aid of the cams, the attraction of the metal climbing tools to the light was enough to drag him down. He lost his grip quickly and fell backwards. At any moment he expected his body to come into sharp and painful contact with the rock wall below.
That moment never came.
Instead, Matty found himself floating in the midst of the light.
"I'm dead," he muttered aloud. "I have hit my head, died instantly and this is the bright light all those near-death-experience dudes and weird psychic spook babblers go on about."
Something cold hit Matty's outstretched hand and he looked round above him. The blue enamelling of his metal water flask gleamed brightly at him in response. He looked at his tool belts. Every piece of metal on the belts was pointing vaguely upwards, into the centre of the light. Matty frowned. Opening and reaching into a zipped pocket, he pulled out a compass and held it horizontal above his face. The needle was definitely not pointing North. He turned the compass on its side and watched as the needle pointed a wavering course straight into the heart of the light.
"It's magnetic," he murmured, rotating the compass and watching the needle ignore the traditional readings entirely.
Whatever else the light may be, Matty could be sure of two things. For one thing, the light was definitely producing a magnetic field, or the magnetic field was producing it. For another, gravity was still having some effect, otherwise he'd be right in the centre of the thing by now. He watched his flask float by above him again. It certainly seemed to be orbiting around a central point. It seemed he had two choices: either stay in perpetual orbit around the light, like his flask, or lose the iron-rich tool belt and take his chances with the fall. No, wait there was a third option: he could try and find the rock wall again first, then lose the tool belt.
Moving felt something like what he'd imagined astronauts went through, or possibly deep sea divers. After a few failed attempts, he managed to roll over and turn round, so that his head, rather than feet, was at the end near where he figured the wall should be. He reached out a hand in front of him, stretching out in the direction of the rock wall. Nothing.
A few awkward swimming-like manoeuvres brought him closer to where the wall should be.
Still nothing.
He should definitely have been within reach by now, he was sure. Had he turned round too far? Had he fallen further out than he'd thought? No, he was sure he hadn't. He could picture the light from above clearly: there wasn't that much space within it. He must have got turned around. He tried a different direction.
Still nothing.
Half an hour or more passed, he couldn't be sure how long exactly, and still Matty couldn't find the wall. There was only one thing for it: he would have to lose the tool belt without any handholds or footholds to fall back on.
He kept one hand firmly gripping the belt as he unbuckled it. As first, nothing happened; then Matty realised that the belt was acting like a cradle, supporting his weight from below him as well as above. He rolled sideways, out of the loop of magnetised metal, and fell sharply downwards. Once again, the tool belt broke his fall, winding downwards with him as he fell and gradually slowing his descent until he felt his body bounce gently upwards and settle at a new level. He hung there in the open air, dangling from the tool belt by one hand, his jaw hanging loose in wonder.
The fall had taken him out of the glare of the light. He could see his surroundings once more. The rock wall was nowhere to be seen, either before him or behind him. Neither was the Grand Canyon.
The landscape that stretched out before Matty now was definitely still Arizona, geologically anyway. The composite layers of reds, browns and oranges were still vibrantly visible in the steep, water-eroded bank of a narrow river a short distance away. Matty looked down. The drop was survivable. If he landed right he might not even break anything.
He let go of the belt.
The force of bare rock hitting his feet and ricocheting through his ankles hurt, but nothing snapped. Matty straightened up and looked around him, looking up at the light just in time to see the tail of the tool belt disappear upwards. There were one or two other items still attached to his person that were trying to do the same, so he made his way cautiously towards the river, away from the magnetic field.
The eroded layers of riverbank looked familiar. Matty checked his zipped pockets for his phone and started taking pictures. The stratigraphy was just like that of the upper layers of the canyon, but the topology was completely different. It was as though he was looking at the Grand Canyon in its very infancy.
But that was anything up to seventeen million years ago.
And time-travel was impossible.
Wasn't it?