Author's Note: Here is another piece by yours truly! I can't seem to get this off my head by the time Continental Drift premiered. What if Buck didn't survive the great drift? I never thought I'd see the guy again on the big screen, after that minute when Gupta tossed the makeshift dagger over to Louis. You know, where Louis makes a scene? Yeah, I thought our beloved weasel was done for. So, here is how it played in my head a few years back. This is a rough draft, so editing would be done later. Set between the time Gutt was out to seek vengeance.
So what if Buck was thrown back into the surface and came face-to-face with the self-proclaimed master of the seas? A bloody encounter, is what it is!
Rubbles and debris fall from the ceiling, and the ground beneath him trembled immensely. The sudden tremor woke most of the inhabitants, Buck included. He reacted rather quickly, rolling off his stone bed and went straight into action. The first thing the weasel did was grab his trusty blade, and snagged a vine, if in case an escape was needed. All that without a single bite of breakfast. Not the usual routine, but it would do. Buck didn't have the time.
Trees wobbled and the reptilian residents fled in panic. Buck had little to no idea why. That was why he decided to climb the highest point to see the source of the initial shock. Oh, how he wished he didn't. As he scampered further into the incline, the tremors started to ripple through him. He could feel his insides rattling, and his nonexistent breakfast was about to come up in his throat. Perhaps the meal he had last night. He tried shaking it off, to no avail.
Disoriented, the weasel struggled to balance himself on his two feet. He nursed his temple in his paw, and steadied himself with the other. Standing over the cliff, he found himself watching as chaos unfold before him. From there, he could see the entire population scramble. Cries of distress ring throughout the underworld, and everything was a mess. Predator and prey ran for their lives. Whatever this powerful phenomenon was, it was enough to drive everyone away. Not a single one from them minded being so dangerously close to each other, considering they contested over food and territory. That fact was completely forgotten as they try to escape their imminent fate. The lizards were scared to death.
Cracks slithered across the land, and it seemed to be approaching his direction. And the stampede wasn't helping the situation, if at all. For years, he didn't think this would be possible. He didn't think this day would come. Of all the catastrophes he could come up with in his head, it just had to be this one. His nightmare was manifesting itself into reality. "Oh no."
His only eye frantically followed the widening gap. There was no stopping it, not even if he tried. This? This was beyond them. Way beyond them.
Nearly every column that supported the surface collapsed and finally gave in. Its very foundation, destroyed. The sudden shift in the plates made him lose his footing. He buckled on his knees. Was this the end for Buckminster? Had his adventures finally come to an end?
Chunks of debris showered down the lost paradise, pulverizing and destroying everything it falls onto. Wails of despair could be heard.
No, this wasn't how he was going down! He wasn't about to let himself die. He won't allow it!
With all the strength he had in his body, he pushed himself back on his feet. He strapped the knife to his back using the vine he collected from earlier and started sprinting where the crack hasn't been.
His chest heaved for air. It was like Rudy chasing him all over again. He didn't have the time to entertain the thought. That would be for later, for him to ponder on. Whether one of them survives, that is.
Screeches and earsplitting howls could be heard from behind him. The deafening sounds begin to grow louder and louder by the minute. He kept running. More and more rocks poured down on them like hail, crushing its unfortunate victims. The remaining giants had scattered, and apparently, on his tail. He risked a sideways glance, and what he saw instead were the surviving numbers in his pursuit. They must have thought he knew the way out. Being the only mammal with a big enough brain, surely he would know the way out. Sadly, he didn't.
"No, the other way!" he tried to warn them, gesturing with his paw to go the other direction. They were too frightened to listen. All Buck could do was pray they won't step on him. "Go the other way, you stupid reptiles!"
On all his four paws, he did his best to avoid the incoming packs of dinos, stomping and whizzing through. Even with extra precautions, he was not spared from the claws and bruising talons that torn open a portion of his flesh. That was only a graze. What more if it had been done on purpose? The weasel dismissed his wound, climbing on the back of a Saurolophus. Immediately, he gripped the crest on its head.
Before them was a dead end. "Bullocks."
Stacks of corpses block their way. Those following behind them had no idea what was up ahead. They weren't given any memo. It was too late when they crashed into each other, toppling over the hundreds that were left. The weasel had been knocked of from his ride. Sir Saurolophus was in the middle, and was no exception. It had been impaled by the piercing horns of a Styracosaurus. Underneath its colossal weight was his foot, as it appears to be stuck. He tried kicking and wrenching it out. The area around him had dimmed, indicating the falling chunks of land. Bodies of rock had finished them off.
It was a good thing Buck managed to get off in time.
If only he had more time.
He was back and on the run. Enormous and formidable tails hit him, sending him flat against a wall. His head turned to watch his world in its final moments.
For a fraction of a second, he got a fleeting glimpse of the tragic utopia.
And the party has barely begun.
Buried beneath the pile of rocks, along with the crushed bodies of the extinct, his home was no more. Had he given up, it would have been his resting tomb. He would have joined the fossilized beasts.
The screeches have been silenced. Every flora there is had been crushed to pulp. The crack had swallowed everything in its mouth. It doesn't end there.
Clearly, it wasn't over yet.
Luckily for him, he didn't get squashed by the rubbles, or gotten himself sandwiched between the dead. Thank the stars, he survived. Sustaining a few minor wounds, some fractures here and there, were nothing to him. What mattered most to him was the fact that he was alive. He chuckled dryly to himself. This wasn't the time to celebrate. He had to move. Fast.
Lifting himself up using his blade, he stabbed the ground with its tip for support. For a number of times, he failed to get up. He tried applying pressure to his foot, but this proved to be pointless. He must have sprained his ankle, or somehow shattered the bone. Broken, probably, but can still be fixed. He then wrapped the vine he had on his injury, and started on his way.
Bloodied, battered, and bruised, the weasel persisted. He persisted through the pain. Hopping on one foot, and leaning his weight on his blade, he persisted.
A part of him refused to die. He refused to go down without a fight. What a pathetic death it would have been, weeping for his life without doing anything about it. That wasn't how it was supposed to go. That would be embarrassing. It would put his legacy to shame. What would the mammals think of him then?
Once the dust had settled, Buck limped towards the steps where the rocks had formed a mountain. The very mountain lead to the bridge, and at the very peak was the opening to the surface. "Come on, old fella," he begged to himself, as if it would do him any good. "Just a bit more, and we're there."
"A little more." dragging his hind leg, and propping himself on his weapon that he turned into his makeshift crutch. The mammal marched forth, leaving a thin trail of blood behind. His chest heaved steadily. The earthquake has calmed down a bit. For now.
Buck's journey back to the surface didn't take him long. He made a few stops and short breaks in between. It wasn't too bad, if it wasn't for losing a pint of blood. No, it might have been more than that. By now, the bleeding should have stopped. Perhaps it doesn't work on an empty stomach? But what other choice did he have? Nothing much was left. If he wanted to eat, he would have to return to the destroyed world of his. Even if he did, there was a very small chance he would find anything edible to eat. Dinosaur flesh, maybe, but that wouldn't sit too well in his stomach. His only option was to resume his climb to the surface, where there might be plenty of food for him to eat.
In his ascent, he reached the exit. At long, long last! "I made it! I made it!" cheered the weasel. The small crack of light ignited a small spark of hope inside him.
Hurrying and hobbling over the mound of rocks, he was disappointed to see a gloomy trench. He fell like the sky fell on him—hit him much harder than the boulders did. His shoulders dropped at the sight, and his heart sunk. Above him was the boulder that bolted the supposed opening shut. His hope diminished as he inspected the abyss. The hollow chasm stretched to nowhere. Buck was bound to lose his mind. Was this it? If so, then the surface wasn't quite like what he imagined. The damage below had been far too severe. What made him think this was any better?
A sudden explosion erupted from behind him. The smell of seawater was strong.
This can't possibly be good. Pebbles around him started to bounce off the ground, shaking rather violently. The sound of water could be heard from beyond the wall of rock that cut him off from the surface.
Bursting through the crevices, the waves outside crashed against the sealed off exit. The waters began to rise up to his ankles, his hand kept hold of his chest. It was no use. His blue eyes darted across the walls, searching for an exit before the ground could close in on him. He breathes deeply, inhaling a lung of air before diving into the deepening pool. His fresh wounds stung very badly, but he chose to ignore the pain instead. He had to keep going. It was his priority—no, make that his top priority for him. He would have to deal with the pain later.
His slender body made it easy for him to fit through even the tightest spot. Wiggling his way through the opening he entered a while ago, Buck struggled to keep track of the light emitting from the surface. His tiny legs kicked, while his arms were grabbing at anything he could grab a hold of, anything that could pull him out. But there was nothing. He disregarded the stinging wound that ran across his body, hoping that he could escape from the dark.
Certainly, this would not end very well for the weasel.