The Door to September by R Magnusholm

The Door to September

The Door to September by R Magnusholm (Back to the Stone Age #1)
English | 2020 | Fantasy | ePUB | 3.1 MB

When office manager John Summers falls through a portal, he lands in an alternate universe that resembles prehistoric Earth. Beside him is Liz from Accounting. The sun sets, and the temperature plummets. Unwittingly, the pair take refuge in the empty lair of a predator with long fangs and an even longer memory. Armed with nothing but a blunt cutlery knife and paperclips, John and Liz struggle to survive in the wilderness. But hunger, cold, and vicious animals are the least of their problems. Just wait till they meet the natives.

Liz, her face pale and lips trembling, dropped the birch leaves and watched them drift with the wind. No longer her usual cheerful self, she hugged her shoulders and shivered.

We must do something, John thought. Anything. Not just stand here. Movement was life. “Let’s go,” he said with a confidence he didn’t feel.

“Go where?”

His gaze fell to her feet. “To look for your missing shoe.”

They limped around the clearing in silence for several minutes, peered into thickets, checked behind tree trunks. Nothing. The sky turned lead-gray, and along one side, presumably west, ran a band of sour yellow light.

As John kicked apart a drift of fallen leaves, from within a dense stand of yews came a dry crack of a breaking branch. He and Liz exchanged a glance.

“Hello. Over here,” Liz yelled. “Help. He-e-lp!”

More branches snapped as someone or something crashed through the thickets, the noise gradually receding. The hope drained out of her face.

“An animal,” John said. “A deer probably. A whole herd, by the sound of it.”

“Deer in Pimlico?” Liz burst into tears and slowly sank to the ground. She added in a thick voice, “If this is Pimlico.”

He sat next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. “Hey Liz, it’s all right. It’s only an animal.” She was shivering uncontrollably, and he noticed faint puffs of vapor accompanying his words.

The western sky turned the color of a livid bruise, and the shadows thickened. He looked at his phone again—only lunchtime and too early for nightfall. Either his phone’s clock was incorrect, or something had gone horribly wrong with the world. The ground under his butt was cold and damp.

He was considering checking the time on Liz’s phone, when from somewhere to the right came a furtive rustle. A small animal probably. Another rustle came from behind and then from the left. Liz stiffened against him.

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