“Officer, what you mean I can’t pump my own gas?” The shorter man scowled up from his car, biting off his words. The neon sign of the station flickered on and off while the smell of exhaust filled Officer Ortega’s nostrils.
Ortega sighed. “I’m sorry sir, that’s the law in New Jersey,”
“Take this,” Mother says, her usually-shining blue eyes muted and sorrowful. “Remember, Lyskkia, you’re not alone. The Allfather is with you, and the land will fight for us as long as we fight for it.”
I accept the staff with both hands, the weight of the ancient, polished wood making this all-too-real.
Carter walks through the terminal doors and blinks. One minute ago, he was stumbling around in the dark, lost in a briar patch along the Appalachian Trail. Now he’s standing in what looks like an airport from the 1970s. A group of stewardesses in robin’s-egg blue uniforms giggle and wave as they pass.
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“You said we were going to the beach.”
We both stared at the frozen wasteland. A gust of frigid wind blew into the time machine, swirling around us and stealing our breath away.
“Um.” With one last glance at the desert of ice and snow, I slammed the door shut and frowned…
“You’re telling me that in the future, Australia is overrun by cannibalistic koalas called drop bears?”
I blinked at my large companion—Squatch, our resident bigfoot—as I tried to make sense of the vision that had guided me and my cryptid companions Down Under.
He adjusted his Outback hat. “Yup.
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