Everybody's hanging high wires

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𝔸 dull ache throbbed in Rosita's skull as she stirred, her body feeling like a dead weight against the damp jungle floor. Her limbs were sluggish, tingling with the uncomfortable sensation of waking nerves. She groaned, blinking against the harsh light filtering through the canopy, trying to piece together where she was.

Beside her, Owen let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a grunt and a groan, his body equally uncooperative. But before Rosita could turn her head toward him, a wet, slimy sensation filled the air—a distinct, squelching noise followed by an exaggerated, slurping sound. She cracked one eye open and immediately clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

A triceratops—a young one, judging by its size—stood beside Owen, happily licking his face with a thick, slobbery tongue, drenching him in a fresh coat of dinosaur drool. Owen's entire expression was frozen in horror, his eyes wide open but unable to move a muscle to stop it.

"Guh—Rosita—help," Owen wheezed, his voice muffled by another enthusiastic swipe of the triceratops' tongue.

Rosita cackled, her body too weak to do anything else. "Sorry, buddy, I think you've made a new best friend." The triceratops let out a pleased huff, its enormous nostrils flaring before it suddenly lifted itself onto its hind legs in an oddly theatrical display.

Owen's eyes went even wider. "Wait—WAIT—"

Before Owen could do anything, the triceratops slammed back down, its front legs crashing against the ground with enough force to shake the dirt beneath them. By some miracle (or sheer dumb luck), it barely missed Owen's face. Owen let out a string of panicked curses as the triceratops snorted, apparently satisfied, before trotting off without a care in the world. The movement caused Owen to roll onto his side, giving him a perfect view of the molten lava slowly creeping toward them in the distance.

"Well, that's not great," Owen muttered, his voice still hoarse.

Rosita, finally shaking off the last remnants of the tranquilizer, attempted to sit up—only for her limbs to protest immediately. "Oh, come on, legs, I need you now," she grumbled, trying to force herself upright.

Owen wasn't faring much better. He managed to push himself onto his elbows, but his entire body still felt like it was made of lead. "I swear, those darts aged me. I feel like I'm ninety."

Rosita grunted as she pushed herself to her feet, wobbling like a newborn deer. She grabbed onto a fallen log for support, but the moment she tried to step over it, her balance betrayed her. With a startled yelp, she tumbled forward, landing hard on the ground with a very undignified oof. Owen, who had just managed to stand, immediately lost it. He clutched his stomach, laughing despite their very real and immediate danger. "You okay?" he wheezed between chuckles.

Rosita groaned, her cheek still pressed against the dirt. "Yeah. Just figured I'd give the ground a hug. It's been a while."

Despite her dramatic response, Owen reached down, grabbing her arm, and pulling her to her feet. They both turned, their amusement dying down the second they caught sight of the lava inching closer, the ground shimmering with heat.

"Okay, no more falling. Running now." Owen grabbed her hand and took off—or at least, he tried to.

Both of them staggered forward like two toddlers learning to walk for the first time, their legs still half-asleep and refusing to cooperate.

"This is not running!" Rosita shouted, flailing her arms as she tried to force her body to move faster. "I know! I'm trying!" Owen shot back, his movements just as stiff and uncoordinated.

𓆌

It was less of a heroic escape and more of a tragic attempt at movement—two adrenaline-fueled survivors powerwalking for their lives as molten lava crept closer behind them.

The ground trembled violently beneath Claire and Franklin as they slammed the hatch shut, locking out the searing heat, the thick plumes of ash, and the snarling dinosaur that had been mere inches from tearing them apart. Franklin, chest heaving, wiped sweat and soot from his forehead before turning his gaze upward. His breath hitched.

"Claire." His voice was barely above a whisper, raw with fear.

Claire followed his gaze, and her stomach lurched.

The volcano had reached its breaking point. A deafening crack echoed through the island as fire and molten rock burst from its mouth, sending thick, black smoke curling into the sky. The air turned blistering hot in an instant.

"Oh, shit," Claire breathed.

Fiery projectiles rained down in hellish streaks, exploding on impact and igniting the landscape like kindling. The jungle—once dense and green—was now a battlefield of destruction. But through the chaos, something else grabbed their attention.

Faint at first but growing louder—two voices.

"RUN! RUN!"

Emerging from the thick, suffocating smoke, Rosita and Owen sprinted toward them at full speed, their silhouettes barely visible against the infernal backdrop. Claire and Franklin barely had time to react before another sound shattered through the chaos—the thunderous stomps of dozens of dinosaurs. The ground quaked as massive creatures, desperate to escape the impending doom, barrelled forward in a stampede of sheer panic. Triceratops, Gallimimus, and Stegosaurus charged past, their massive bodies kicking up clouds of ash and dirt.

Claire didn't think. She just ran.

Rosita's heart pounded as adrenaline surged through her veins. The roar of the volcano mixed with the deafening cries of dinosaurs, a cacophony of destruction and primal fear. She dodged around fallen trees and burning debris, Owen right beside her. The jungle was collapsing. Trees groaned and splintered, toppling under the pressure of the eruption. The heat was unbearable, sweat mixing with the soot clinging to her skin.

They weren't going to make it.

Up ahead, a fallen log blocked their path, a Gyrosphere wedged just behind it. Franklin clambered over, using the Gyrosphere as cover, while Owen boosted Claire up before jumping over himself. Rosita didn't hesitate—she dove over the log just as a massive dinosaur crashed into it, snapping the wood like twigs. The force sent a shockwave through the ground, nearly knocking them off balance.

Before anyone could recover, the Gyrosphere jolted from its position, nudged upward by the frantic stampede. The sudden motion made everyone stumble.

"Go, go!" Owen shouted.

Franklin scrambled inside the Gyrosphere, his hands shaking as he buckled in. Claire climbed in after him, tightening her belt in record time. "Buckle up, Franklin!" she ordered.

Franklin could barely breathe. "O-Okay, okay—"

Claire turned back to Rosita and Owen. "Get in!"

But neither of them moved.

Their eyes were locked on something else.

Claire turned her head, her stomach dropping. A Carnotaurus stood next to her side looking at Rosita and Owen, its blood-red scales and jagged teeth glistening in the glow of the molten sky. The massive predator prowled forward, its golden eyes fixed on its prey. It sniffed the air, nostrils flaring. 

Rosita and Owen took cautious steps backward, trying not to provoke it. Their breaths came out ragged, their muscles coiled and ready to run. The Carnotaurus growled, deep and guttural, before lunging at a Triceratops. The Triceratops intercepted, slamming into the predator with the force of a wrecking ball. The impact sent shockwaves through the ground as the two titans clashed, dust and debris swirling around them.

The force of the Carnotaurus's body hitting the Gyrosphere sent it rolling uncontrollably. Rosita and Owen jumped out of the way just in time, but the motion sealed the doors shut. "No, no, no!" Rosita pounded on the glass, trying to pry it open, but it was too late. Before they could do anything, the Carnotaurus staggered back to its feet, shaking off the attack. Its attention snapped back to Owen and Rosita.

It growled. Snarled.

Then it charged.

The world seemed to slow as the beast lunged forward, jaws wide. A monstrous roar split the sky. Out of the smoke and fire, a T-Rex slammed into the Carnotaurus, locking its massive jaws around its rival's neck. The Carnotaurus shrieked as it was yanked backward, its body slamming into the earth. For a brief moment, Rosita and Owen were frozen in awe. The T-Rex, a living legend, stood victorious as the volcano raged behind it—a god of destruction in an apocalyptic world.

Then the volcano erupted once more, shaking the ground beneath them.

"Owen!" Claire's voice snapped them back.

They turned to see the Gyrosphere rolling toward the cliff's edge.

And beyond that—nothing but open sky and the ocean below. The earth cracked apart as fireballs rained from the heavens, striking down dinosaurs in their path. Rosita pushed forward, her lungs burning with each breath. A blast of heat engulfed them as they neared the cliff. Smoke swallowed their surroundings, turning everything into a choking, burning abyss.

Then—nothing.

The Gyrosphere vanished over the edge.

Screams filled the air as it plummeted into the water below, crashing into the depths with a violent impact.

Inside the Gyrosphere, Franklin's world was spinning. The glass walls cracked on impact, water rushing in through the fractures. "We have to get out!" Claire's voice was sharp with urgency as she fumbled with her buckle. Franklin, still in shock, let out a nervous, breathless laugh. "We just fell off a cliff. We're alive. We're actually alive—"

Then he felt it. Cold water creeping over his shoes.

His stomach dropped.

"No, no, no—" Water sprayed through the cracks, filling the sphere at an alarming rate. "Franklin, move!" Claire shouted. Franklin scrambled, pushing against the sealed doors. "They won't open! They won't—NO, NO, NO!" Outside, the surface of the ocean rippled with disturbance. And below the waves—something was moving.

Water surged into the Gyrosphere at an unforgiving pace, the icy grip of the ocean swallowing them whole. Claire's heart pounded as she frantically scanned the sinking capsule, searching for anything—anything—that could help them escape.

"We need to get out!" she gasped, her voice strained with urgency.

Above them, the cracked glass groaned under the mounting pressure. Suddenly, a fiery projectile, still searing hot from the volcanic eruption, tore through the water and slammed into the roof of the Gyrosphere.

The heat was instantaneous.

The remaining glass melted away like wax, sizzling as it met the freezing depths. Then—CRACK. A jagged hole ruptured above them, sending a violent rush of water pouring inside.

"Franklin, watch out!" Claire shouted.

Franklin barely had time to react before the deluge hit him, nearly knocking the air from his lungs. He let out a panicked, high-pitched wail.

"I WANT TO GO HOME!" he cried, his hands desperately clawing at the sealed door. The Gyrosphere was now little more than a doomed prison, sinking faster and faster into the abyss. Then—through the murky water, Claire saw them. Two familiar figures cutting through the waves.

Owen and Rosita.

They swam toward the Gyrosphere with unwavering determination, their forms illuminated by the eerie glow of fire above and the deepening blue below. Claire's heart soared with hope. "Owen! Rosita!" she cried, pressing her hands against the glass as relief flooded her system. Rosita reached them first, her movements swift and controlled. She met Claire's gaze through the glass, then motioned for her to move aside. Claire followed her line of sight and spotted the handgun strapped to Rosita's thigh.

"Move! Move!" Claire shouted at Franklin.

Franklin scrambled aside just as Rosita pulled out her weapon and aimed at the weakened glass. With steady precision, she fired. Tiny fractures spiderwebbed across the surface. She fired again. And again. Each shot weakened the barrier, little bubbles escaping through the growing cracks. Then—before she could take another shot—something in the water moved. A dark shape, fast and powerful. It slammed into Rosita with brutal force. Rosita's body jerked as something snared her arm, yanking her downward. Her gun tumbled from her grasp, disappearing into the black void below.

Claire's stomach twisted in terror.

"No! No, no, no, no, no!" she screamed, palms slamming against the glass.

Bubbles erupted around Rosita as she thrashed, her limbs fighting against the unseen force pulling her deeper. Owen wasted no time. He dove after her, his body slicing through the water with a singular, unwavering focus. Claire pressed against the glass, her breath catching in her throat as she watched Owen reach Rosita, wrapping a strong arm around her waist and pulling her free from whatever had tried to drag her down.

But inside the Gyrosphere, time was running out.

Water had completely filled the capsule.

Franklin's hands clawed at his throat, his eyes wild with panic. Claire could feel her own lungs burning, screaming for oxygen. Owen and Rosita reached the Gyrosphere, their expressions turning desperate as they saw Claire and Franklin fading. Owen yanked his knife from his belt and drove it into the weakened door, gritting his teeth as he pried at the cracks.

Rosita mirrored his actions, pulling out her own blade and stabbing into the door. Inside, Claire and Franklin pushed with everything they had left. The door wouldn't budge. Owen and Rosita worked faster, their muscles straining as they forced their knives deeper, wedging the cracks apart.

Claire's vision blurred. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

Then—

The door snapped free. A violent explosion of water burst from the Gyrosphere as the seal broke, sending Claire and Franklin tumbling into open water. With the last ounce of her strength, Claire kicked toward the surface. She could hear her own heartbeat slowing. Her limbs felt heavy, her vision darkening— Then, she broke through.

The world exploded back into sound. Gasping, Claire sucked in air like it was the sweetest thing she'd ever tasted. Franklin surfaced beside her, coughing and heaving, his eyes wide with shock. Owen and Rosita emerged moments later, both breathing heavily.

For a second, none of them moved.

They floated there, panting, disoriented, trying to process the hell they had just escaped. Then, slowly, they turned toward the island.

Or rather—what remained of it. Smoke billowed into the sky, thick and suffocating. Rivers of molten lava cut through the once-green landscape, leaving only scorched earth and ruin. Dinosaurs, their desperate cries carrying over the ocean, ran in all directions, fleeing the fiery apocalypse.

And they had barely made it out alive.

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By: SilverMist707

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