By Alex Scarrow
Liam O'Connor, Maddy Carter, and Sal Vikram all must have died. yet as an alternative, they've been given a moment chance-to paintings for an corporation that not anyone is familiar with exists. The TimeRiders' venture: to avoid time commute from destroying history-and the longer term. . . . while Maddy mistakenly opens a time window the place and whilst she won't, Liam is marooned sixty-five million years some time past, within the searching floor of a perilous, and formerly undiscovered, species of prehistoric predator. Can Liam make touch with Maddy and Sal prior to he is hunted down via dinosaurs, and with no altering historical past quite a bit that the realm is overtaken by means of a terrifying new fact? the second one booklet within the exciting TimeRiders sequence is simply as fast paced, clever, and mind-bending because the first.
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Extra info for TimeRiders 02: Day of the Predator
Example text
Sal looked up at the old man, frightened at his strangeness, reluctant to offer her hand to him. Not that she believed in anything beyond this world, not Hindu gods, not angels or demons … but he seemed not of this world somehow. An apparition. A ghost. Her father angrily snatched at her hand. ‘Saleena! ’ She looked at her father, her mother. ’ The old man shook his head. ‘Only you, Saleena. ’ She realized tears were streaming down her cheeks, tracing dark tracks on her chalky face. ’ called out Mrs Chaudhry.
When she’d double-clicked on it, what she’d got was an image of Foster’s face looking out of the monitor as he’d addressed the web cam. He looked ten, perhaps twenty years younger than he had the morning he’d told her she was ready, wished her luck and walked out of Starbucks leaving her to run things. The Foster onscreen looked no more than fifty. ‘So,’ he began, adjusting the flex so that the mic was in front of his mouth. ‘You’ve opened this file. ’ Foster had proceeded with detailed instructions on maintenance and feeding, and how the growth tubes work.
Above them, the stairwell they’d been clambering down only moments earlier was crushed by the collapsed floors above. She saw an extended arm emerging from the tangle of beams and crumbling breeze-blocks, an arm chalk-white, perfectly still, reaching down to her as if pleading to be held or shaken. ‘We’re trapped,’ whispered her mother. Sal looked to her, then to her father. He shook his head vigorously, dust cascading off his thin hair. ‘No! We are not! ’ He looked at Sal. ‘That’s what we do, we dig.