“Well, that was a fun email,” you think.
Then you decide … you won’t die on the run.
So in a last act of
foolishness valour, you turn around to face the giant beast coming at you head-on.
When you see it again — its dozens of eyes, four fangs, three arms, scales, and spines — you wish you hadn’t.
You shut your eyes and wince as the end comes …
At that moment, a massive shockwave knocks you backwards.
Yet as you fall, in slow motion, you catch a glimpse of the closest gorilla-beast to you.
Or at least … what’s left of it.
The top six feet of the monster have been literally vaporised by the force of whatever just hit it. Chunks of green monster-flesh fly through the air in slow motion, in a grotesque imitation of alien snowflakes.
Then time speeds up, and you hit the ground. “Oof!”
You lift your head …
… to see several of the other beasts in pursuit start exploding, one by one.
And each time, there’s that enormous “BOOOOOM” that rattles through your head.
You look over at me to see what I’m doing.
I’m standing there, hands on my hips … laughing at you.
Then I call out:
“Well, THAT took you long enough!”
At first you’re confused … till you realise I’m not looking at you. I’m looking past you.
You sit up, and look where I’m looking—
And then, you see him.
A few dozen feet away is a thin American guy with light brown hair … a short beard … and the biggest freakin’ sniper rifle you’ve EVER seen, which he’s firing at the rest of the monsters. It’s literally eight feet long.
With a few more shots, he finishes off the rest of the pursuing horde, and hoists up his enormous rifle.
Then you realise who it is:
My best friend, frequent email cameo guest, and the guy who saved your life in these inter-email stories once before.
He walks over and kicks at the dead body of one of the monsters.
“Holy smokes,” he says. “Glad I brought the big gun today!”
Then he turns to me. “You doin’ okay?”
I dust my arms off and shrug. “As good as you can be 10,000,000 years in the future on your remote island, being hunted by giant monkeys, I guess.”
“Well, I heard a scream and came into the lab … and you weren’t there,” says Tom. “I figured this moron must’ve hit the blue button, so I came to get you.”
He pulls out two spare time-travel remotes out of his jacket pocket. He tosses one to me, and then walks over and crouches down next to you.
“You’re the one who caused this?”
You swallow. “Y-yes … but it was all an accident! I was just trying to get more of Daniel’s emails, and—”
Tom silences you with a finger over your lips.
“Sssshhhhh,” he says.
Then he takes out the second remote, and lightly brushes it down your cheek, in a way that makes you feel really uncomfortable.
“No words. I’m your daddy now,” whispers Tom in your ear.
Tom stands up. “Eh, just messin’ with ya. This time, jerkface — press the green ‘back-10,000,000-years’ button, okay?”
(Yes, he’s a bit … strange.)
You nod solemnly.
“Right then — catch ya later,” says Tom. He picks up his giant rifle, hits a button on his remote, and — whoosh! — vanishes back to the present.
“Time for us to go, too,” I say. “Don’t mess this up again.”
You hit the button. And then, a familiar sensation:
As usual, you start falling … and then a short while later, we’re back safely in my lab.
As we arrive back into modern-day mobile phone reception, your phone buzzes.
It’s a new email from me.
And after all that excitement, a nice, new email is just what you need.
Check your inbox …