(Dinosaur print, Navajo Nation, near Tuba City, Arizona. Photo is mine)
FINISH THE FICTION CONTEST - WEEK #11
If you want to participate, just write an ending to my story and post the link here:
https://steemit.com/contest/@f3nix/finish-the-fiction-story-contest-week-11
The story begins...
NEXUS@TubaCity
He drained the last of his waterskin and sank to his knees. What a crap place to die. Tuba City. Dirt and rocks and nothing but a cracked and empty highway half buried in sand. Maybe if he caught his breath he could make it to the mesa. But then what? Who was he kidding? He was done.
There was a distant whoop and he could just make them out. Perhaps five hundred yards. Maybe less. The Eggman and Tree, pace steady, drawn towards him like rats to steaming garbage.
His head drooped down. He had no juice left to fight. And then he saw it. He had to crawl until the dark form took shape. It was a footprint. A footprint sunk into solid rock. Bigger than his head. Three toes, huge claws, every detail visible, as if chiseled by a master. His whirling brain finally caught a gear and delivered. “Huh,” he said, “Raptor print”.
They were only a few hundred yards away now, skullblades catching the last of the sunlight. Time was going, going, gone.
Why here? A two hundred million year old echo pressed into stone, a sliver of time out of sequence, a crossing over point. This was the place. It was meant to be here. Him, Eggman and Tree, and the silent intruder from across a gulf of eons. Good Lord. Who organizes this shit? So many variables for them all to wind up here. Had to mean something, he just couldn’t figure what.
"This wouldn’t be so hard,” he mumbled to himself, “If you weren’t tripping balls”.
AND HERE'S WHERE YOU TAKE OVER...