Primordia 2_Return to the Lost World by Greig Beck

Author:Greig Beck [Beck, Greig]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severed Press
Published: 2018-05-13T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 27

Ben slithered through the undergrowth and stopped to rest as his head spun from dizziness. The wounds on his chest felt like they were on fire. Three deep gauges, and he was sure he had fractured ribs from that big bastard landing on him.

But just as big fish ate small fish, it was also true that big fish got eaten by even bigger fish. While Ben was being mauled, and he thought his number was finally up, something had burst from the jungle and scooped up the seven-foot-tall theropod standing on his chest like it weighed nothing. The others of its pack had fled screeching in panic back into the undergrowth.

Ben didn’t wait to hand out thank yous, but instead ignored the pain and ran between a pair of clawed feet that must have been six feet long. One thing he’d found out about being in the vicinity of a big carnivore was that everything else headed for the hills. So the jungle had been empty on his blind run.

But now, he had other priorities. Wounds festered, and even a minor cut could mean blood poisoning if not attended to.

He slithered on, finally seeing what he was looking for. He pulled himself into the patch of thick grasses, choosing the greenest stalks and carefully tugging them from the damp soil. He was careful not to dislodge the bulbs as they came up. He quickly shelled one the size of his thumb, and then stuck it in his mouth, grinding the bitter plant root down to pulp, and then spat the mush back onto his hand.

Maybe one day the plant would evolve into an onion or garlic. But as he hoped when he first found them, whatever it was, it was close enough to contain a potent chemical called allicin that was a powerful natural antibiotic.

With his vision blurring from pain, Ben smeared the salve into the chest wounds, feeling the agony as he rubbed the bitter mush into the torn flesh. The extra bonus was the odor of the root masked the smell of open wounds. He chewed some more, his jaw working slowly as he made sure to liberally coat all his wounds. He then finally tugged up some more bulbs and stuck them into a sack which was the last shred of his shirt that had long given up as a garment of wear.

Ben’s head swam, and he crawled and dragged himself under a huge palm frond, hoping he was concealed as he spun away into unconsciousness.

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