About 02:28 Hours to Yuma: A Tale of the Flashback
Before the Flashback ended in The War-torn Hills of Earth, there were other trials, other crucibles, other adventures not previously recorded. 02:28 Hours to Yuma–the sequel to 72 Hours to Animal–is one of these, in which helicopter pilot Zola Skirata’s stopover at Arizona’s Biosphere 2 results in a night of alien–and primordial–terror.
From 02:28 Hours to Yuma:
Zola scanned the biome carefully, tracking left to right, past the fruit trees and ferns and a man-made mountain (which reminded her of Disneyland), but didn’t see anything.
“What exactly are we looking for?” she practically whispered.
“Look for colors that are too perfect, too vibrant, you’ll know it when you see them. It’s called chromatophores—the ability to change one’s coloration in order to better suit an environment. You’ll see it because the nanotyrannus’ cells tend to over-compensate at night, so they’ll stand out like a sore thumb once you know what to look for. Also pay particularly close attention to the caves and hallows, because they just love to hide there. You might even want to—wait a minute, wait a minute. Okay. Right there—between that instrument tower and the mountain. About two o’clock.”
She looked to where he’d indicated but didn’t at first see anything, that is until the large frond she was studying suddenly blinked and cocked its head, which caused her breath to hitch and for her to wonder how she’d missed it, because the eye was wild-cherry red.
“Thought it was fruit, I suppose,” she said, mostly to herself, and laughed nervously.
“There is no fruit,” said Donovan.
“What do you mean, there’s no … But it’s all over the damn—”
But she could see that she was wrong and he was right, there was no fruit, no blinking wild cherries, no biome filled with fruit trees. There were just eyes—eyes staring out from caverns and hollows and from between jiggling fronds; eyes studying her with cool precision and unwavering intent; eyes looking on her not like a bird, which would have at least had to turn its head, but squarely, directly, with perfect binocular vision. Eyes triangulating her and studying her every move—that were long and tapered and reddish-brown, like Donovan’s. That were keen and pure and not multi-faceted, as the lights in the sky had been; but rather consistent and uniform and a deep, bloody red—as the sky was now.
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Author Bio:
Wayne Spitzer is an American writer, illustrator, filmmaker, and founding editor of the publications Dark Horses: The Magazine of Weird Fiction, Black Sheep: Unique Tales of Terror and Wonder, and Mobius Blvd. He is the author of countless books, stories, and other works, including Beyond the Black Curtain, X-Ray Rider and Other Dark Rites of Passage, Legends of the Flashback: The Finished Saga, The Devil Drives a ’66 and Other Stories, The Witch-Doctor Diaries and Other Dystopias, and The Place and Other Stories from the Region Between, as well as a film (Shadows in the Garden) and a screenplay (Algernon Blackwood’s The Willows). His work has appeared in MetaStellar—Speculative fiction and beyond, subTerrain Magazine: Strong Words for a Polite Nation and Columbia: The Magazine of Northwest History, among others. He holds a Master of Fine Arts degree from Eastern Washington University, a B.A. from Gonzaga University, and an A.A.S. from Spokane Falls Community College. His recent fiction includes The War-torn Hills of Earth and The Wine-Dark Passage. He shares a life with his sweetheart Ngoc Trinh Ho in Spokane Valley, Washington.