Oliver Smarts's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Oliver Smarts ducked under the frayed rope strung across the mouth of the dig. The rope was his line in the sand. No one followed him past it. Inside, the exposed dig face waited—layered rock streaked with ice, fossil shapes hinting through the dirt. Somewhere in that wall was the DNA sample the Prehistory Zoo needed. He stepped onto the cracked floor. Dust shifted under his boots. The shattered ground was a map of old stress, every fissure a warning he couldn't read fast enough. The sensor clipped to his belt chirped once. Then it shrieked. Oliver froze. The little metallic box flashed red across its display. His hardhat sensor pinged in answer, a second alarm layered over the first. The eastern wall. The same wall that killed the worker last week. He didn't run. Running cracked things. He stepped backward along his marker line, slow and even, eyes on a dust trail sliding down the rock. A pebble dropped. Then a handful. He cleared the rope just as the ceiling inside groaned and a section of the dig face sheared away in a dry roar. When the dust settled, Oliver was outside, shaking, empty-handed. The site had not killed him. It had also not given him what he came for. He wiped his mouth and looked at the collapsed face. The samples were still in there. So was the risk. He would have to go back in another way.