“Holy shit!!”

Ben looked back at the shoreline and heaved a sigh of relief.

“That was NUTS.”

Looking back he saw the bushes rustling and could hear the angry screams of his pursuers. Ben took a moment to collect himself and take stock of his situation. He had a backpack with paracord, small hatchet multitool, water purification tablets, the last little bits of his remaining jerky, and various other survival necessities. At his feet lay a spent tranquilizer gun and his prize all wrapped up in a heavy canvas bag, sleeping peacefully.

The screams came from shore again and Ben smiled knowing he was safe for the time being. Sitting back with the paddle in his hands he sighed deeply and began to chuckle at the audacity of what he had accomplished.

A few minutes later he leaned forward to open the bag and look at his prize. He gingerly opened the bag and peaked in at the large, leathery shell of a large egg.

“They’re never going to believe me without you little guy. Gotta get you home and organize an expedition back,” I said as I contemplated a bright future.

Screams broke out to his right as Ben began to slowly paddle down the river towards what he hoped was the way out of this crazy place. He drifted off into musings of what had brought him to this place.

Ben was a cryptozoologist who had been mocked mercilessly for years. It had begun when he was a teenager at his grandfathers trailer in the desserts of New Mexico.

One night while sleeping outside to get away from the stench of alcohol and old people he had his first encounter with a creature that sparked a fire in his soul. In the creosote he witnessed heard one his family’s cattle make a wounded cry. There he saw a dog sized hairless creature with black eyes and sharp teeth, its bloody muzzle buried in the flesh of the cow. He cried out and startled the animal. His grandpa heard him and came busting out with a shotgun he promptly fired while screaming, “Damn Goat Suckers!!”

“Goat suckers?” Ben had asked.

“Chupacabra boy, damned nuisance.”

With that he was hooked. He had studied legends, myths, folk lore, creepy pasta. You name it and Ben had sought after the esoteric knowledge that would bring him closer to the mysteries of the lost creatures.

After many years, Ben discovered several stories that led him to a far corner of the Devils Sea or, as it was also known, the Devils Triangle; an area of missing ships and airplanes. Where unnatural sightings had been reported and no sane captain would take his ship.

He wrangled passage on a merchant marine ship and from there arranged to be dropped as near the triangle as he could get with his ocean kayak. He was willing to risk everything.

And he was right.

Ben paddled for two days until reaching an area of unnatural calm. The skies here were unnaturally cloudy and fog seemed to fill the area in great rifts which created primordial canyons and illusory passages.

He had a marine gps connected via satellite uplink and was nearing the location his research had assured him was the basis of many lost ships and missing aircraft when the maps and directions… spasmed and then blinked out.

He pulled out his compass and headed in the north westerly direction he had laid out, determined to continue. But when Ben looked at the compass again it said he was headed east. He adjust course several times and continued to be redirected by his faulty compass when he realized he was right where he wanted to be.

The only problem was that there was nothing here. No islands.

No vortex.

Nothing, and no way to know how to get out without a direction. Lost in the endless miasma of fog.

Ben paddled and calmed himself. Assured of the knowledge he was on the right track and with a few days supply of food and water, he continued on.

The days passed and Ben despaired as those rations dwindled. Losing consciousness, he drifted and slept til he realized he wasn’t moving any longer. Rousing himself, Ben got up and stepped foot onto a pebbly beach.

“I did it.”

He got his equipment and quickly set up a base camp and restocked his water. Food was found in the form of fruits and tubers growing in the area as well as plentiful fish in the cove he had washed up in.

He explored heavily and spent weeks searching for anything, any sign of humans. Instead he found he had stumbled upon the fabled lost world of dinosaurs and lumbering megatherium.

Ben determined to take home a sample and mourn an expedition back to cement his place in history. Having stolen an egg from one of the giant lizards, like no dinosaur he had ever seen. And now he was finally on his way back home.

Just ahead he could make out the curve a the river through some shallows leading to the sea.

Suddenly a screech from the air shook him from his daydream. An answering cry from the shore brought him to high alert. Two of the great lizards broke from the brush and charged forward towards the shallows.

Ben paddled for all he was worth. The current carrying him along and helping him to make up for his carelessness. He watched as the two creatures raced to meet him and, with a desperate burst, Ben outpaced them. He fairly flew around the curve and into the bay leading to his freedom.

Days passed floating on the placid. Ben used every trick he knew to gather water and keep himself going. He was starving and the thirst pulled at him. Draining away every vestige of control he had left when he broke through the fog and found himself in the wider sea and out of the triangle. But there were no ships in sight.

Ben oriented himself toward the nearest islands and shipping lanes he could remember, hoping he wasn’t mistaken. Another day passed. He became gripped in delusion, hearing screams and cries. Hunger shaking his broken body. Thinking himself lost and starving, he knew he had only one hope left. With that he opened the canvas bag and took out his prize.

Weeping, Ben broke the egg open to have his final meal.