WHEN DAK was about four, he got on a huge dinosaur kick and read every single book about prehistoric life he could get his hands on. It fascinated him to no end that for one hundred thirty-five million years dinosaurs were the dominant terrestrial vertebrates roaming the Earth. What an amazing run, considering humans hadn’t even been around for five million years.
That’s why Dak’s heart was slamming so hard against the inside of his chest now. In the tree above him was a real-life adolescent pterosaur. He was sure of it — even though it was technically impossible. But just look at that long, toothy jaw, he told himself. And that tail. Look at that furry coat — which he knew was made up of hairlike filaments known as pycnofibers. This wasn’t some fake, man-made replica in the Smithsonian. It was the real deal. The pterosaur was young, but Dak could already tell it was going to be huge, which meant it was either a Quetzalcoatlus or Hatzegopteryx.
Dak caught a whiff of something unpleasant. It wasn’t coming from the animal, though. It seemed to be coming from him. He looked down at his new Vans, and his heart sank. With his eyes up on the trees, he’d managed to step right in the mess the pterosaur had left behind. He would have been completely grossed out if it wasn’t for one simple fact: He’d just stepped in dinosaur poop!
He quickly caught himself. Technically, referring to the mess on his shoes as dinosaur poop was incorrect. What he’d meant to call it was pterosaur poop. It was a common mistake to refer to pterosaurs as flying dinosaurs when, in actuality, they were their own separate species.
Dak rubbed his eyes to be sure this wasn’t some twisted version of his space dream. But when he looked up, the pterosaur was still sitting in the tree above him, moving its head around. And his shoes still needed a good washing.
What the heck was going on?
Dak turned to call for Sera again, but just then the pterosaur flapped its massive wings and started flying away from him, through the treetops.
He took off after it.
The chase through the forest led Dak clear across town. Occasionally the pterosaur would get way ahead of him and he would assume he’d lost it, but then a hundred yards down the trail he’d find it sitting there in another tree. And it would always look down at him before flying off again, like they were playing some sort of prehistoric game of hide-and-seek.
Dak tried to imagine the conversation he would have with Sera later. “So, what’d you do all day, Dak?” she’d ask him.
“Oh, not much,” he’d answer. “Just tailed a pterosaur around the forest for a few hours.”
As Dak jogged along the path, he tried to figure out how this was even possible. A real, live prehistoric animal in the forest behind his house. Maybe it was some mutated strain that had lain dormant in a cave for millions of years. Or maybe this was the experiment Sera’s parents had been so hush-hush about. They were brilliant, and they were supposed to be working with Dak’s parents, but ever since his mom had started campaigning, nobody seemed to have any idea what the Frostes were up to. Cloning prehistoric animals seemed as likely as anything else.
Then another thought occurred to Dak.
What if he and Sera hadn’t actually fixed all the Breaks in history? What if they’d failed to tie up one or two minor loose ends and over the course of centuries those minor loose ends had become major loose ends that had resulted in strange anomalies in the ecosystem, like pterosaurs showing up in the modern world? If that were true, then they’d be forced to warp back into history and fix these loose ends, right? There was no way Sera would be able to argue with that.
Dak was so excited, he could hardly breathe — though the breathlessness could’ve also been the result of ninety straight minutes of continual running.
“Wait for me, pterosaur!” he shouted up at the trees.
And then, eyes fixed on the canopy, he collided with a teenage girl.
They both shrieked on impact and went tumbling to the ground, the girl’s books scattering everywhere.
Dak had the wind knocked out of him, but he still managed to glance up at the treetops. His ancient playmate was nowhere to be found.
“What could you possibly be in such a hurry about?” the girl shouted, standing up to brush herself off.
Dak opened his mouth to apologize, but quickly realized he knew this girl. It was the young Hystorian who had programmed the SQuare and helped Dak and Sera prepare for their first mission. “Arin!” he shouted. “What a pleasure! Please tell me you saw that pterosaur flying through the forest!”
“Uh, who are you?” Arin said, looking genuinely confused. “And how do you know my name?”
“It’s me. Dak.” When her face didn’t show any sort of recognition, he added, “You helped me and Sera before we warped back in time. And Riq, too. I know you remember Riq. You guys went through, like, Hystorian training together.”
“What’s a Hystorian?” Arin said, crinkling her nose. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. And I’m beginning to think you don’t either.”
Dak started picking up Arin’s books to buy himself a few seconds to think. How could she not know anything about the Hystorians? She’d dedicated her entire life to their cause. But he knew the answer. Once they had fixed all the Breaks, they’d also rendered the Hystorian movement unnecessary. Arin didn’t know about the Hystorians because the Hystorians no longer existed.
Dak’s parents had suggested that he and Sera try to ease back into present-day life. “If you try and dive in too fast,” his dad told him, “it’ll be overwhelming. Believe me.” Hence the hours Dak had been spending in the hammock. But now he understood what his dad meant. The world they’d returned to was different from the one they’d left behind, in both big and small ways.
Case in point, Dak thought as he studied the covers of Arin’s books. They weren’t the Hystorian guides or science textbooks he expected. They were teen novels about . . . vampires. He handed them back to her, saying, “Did you at least see the pterosaur? It flew right over your head.”
Arin studied Dak for a few long seconds. “You’re not seriously asking me if I saw a flying dinosaur, are you?”
“Well, technically,” Dak said, “I asked if you saw a pterosaur. Two totally different prehistoric animals. The one in question existed from the late Triassic period until the end of the Cretaceous period —”
“Okay,” Arin interrupted, “you’re officially starting to weird me out.” She crinkled her nose again and glanced down at Dak’s feet. “Is that . . . dog poop?”
Dak looked at his shoes and then back up at Arin. “Actually, it’s —”
“If you say it’s dinosaur poop, I’m calling 911.”
“— pterosaur poop.”
Arin set down her books and reached into her bag for her phone.
“It was there,” Dak pleaded. “I swear.”
“Oh, it all makes sense now,” Arin said, typing her pass code into her phone. “Those two farmers who reported seeing UFOs a few days ago . . . what they’d actually seen were flying dinosaurs.”
“Again, technically —”
“Look,” Arin interrupted again. “You seem like a nice enough kid. So I’m not going to call the cops, okay?”
Dak nodded, realizing he wasn’t going to convince this version of Arin of anything.
“It’s healthy to have a creative imagination,” she went on, “but it’s probably best if you keep that stuff between you and your little friends, okay? Try finger painting or scrapbooking.”
He looked up at the treetops again. “But . . .”
“Bye, Dan.”
“Dak,” he corrected her, but she’d already spun around with her books and started back down the trail.
Dak watched her go, knowing it was a lost cause. She didn’t know him at all because in this version of the present, they’d never met. And they’d never met because the Hystorians no longer existed.
What did exist, however, was the pterosaur he’d seen flying through the forest. He rubbed his eyes again and looked down at his own palms.
He wasn’t dreaming this time.
He was sure of it.
In order to prove it, though, even to himself, he needed to track that animal down.