Baileigh Higgins
Primordial Earth - Book 6
The Extinction Series - A Prehistoric, Post-Apocalyptic, Sci-Fi Thriller
Copyright © 2021 by Baileigh Higgins
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Contents
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Chapter 1 - Imogen
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5 - Imogen
Chapter 6 - Kat
Chapter 7
Chapter 8 - Brittany
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11 - Imogen
Chapter 12
Chapter 13 - Kat
Chapter 14 - Callum
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18 - Callum
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21 - Kat
Epilogue - Seth
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About the Author
Glossary
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Christian Bentulan for the stunning book cover design. You can check out his portfolio at http://www.coversbychristian.com. He’s an amazing artist.
Plus, a huge thank you to Graham Rintoul for his tireless dedication to my books, his research, and his input. A big shoutout to Mike Hansen for his support and help, and to all the fans and readers out there. I truly appreciate you all!
Dedication
This book is dedicated to a special reader, Tricia Lynn Sinnet. I hope you enjoy this story of survival, and that you enjoy many more great adventures in the future. Happy reading!
Chapter 1 - Imogen
Imogen stared at the map on the wall, her expression somber. Colored tacks marked the various territories around her home city, Vancouver. The bright buttons radiated outward in ever-widening circles.
It was a system she’d created when she first joined the expeditionary team. Their primary goal was to search for other survivors and settlements. That was why she was there. With her degree in anthropology and history, she harbored a keen interest in human behavior, movement, and culture. But they were also on the lookout for resources such as minerals, empty cities, water, and more.
The tacks marked each territory according to type: Red for danger, yellow for risky, and green for safe. Or at least, as safe as it was possible to get in the primordial world. There were also blue tacks that meant human life. Sadly, these were few and far between.
Purple tacks designated areas rich with modern supplies such as unlooted cities, white tacks pointed to natural riches such as water and minerals, while black tacks pointed to dead zones. These zones were both devoid of life, supplies, and anything else that might be useful. Where the black and red tacks combined, they created swathes of land avoided by all.
Currently, the area south of Kalama was empty, waiting for Jessica and her team to fill the void. The only problem was, they were four days overdue. Four days was a lifetime in the prehistoric world, and anything could’ve happened to them. All of it bad.
Worry gnawed at Imogen’s gut while she stared at the map. She did not know where her friends were, and so far, the daily search parties had yielded nothing. They were burning through their fuel reserves at an alarming rate, but she refused to give up.
The door to the office opened, and Alan walked in. His ruddy cheeks were flushed, and he flashed her an impatient look. “Are you still staring at that thing? It’s been days. Give it up already.”
Imogen gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t allow Alan’s ill-humor to affect her judgment. Jessica, Lee, and Barry were still out there somewhere, alive. She knew it. “They’re not dead. I know they’re not.”
“Yeah, right? You’re not psychic. Be honest. What are the chances they’d still be alive after all this time?” Alan asked with one eyebrow raised. Sweat poured down his temples and stained his collar. While it was a warm day, Alan ran hotter than most, and he was always sweaty no matter the weather.
“I don’t care what their chances are,” Imogen said. “I care about them. They’re our friends. What if it was you out there?”
“Then I’d be dead.” Alan checked the kettle on the wood-burning stove and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Nobody can survive out there for this long. You should stop the search parties before we don’t have enough fuel left to get back home.”
“It’s not your call,” Imogen said, standing her ground.
“Yeah, I know it’s not, but it should be,” Alan rumbled. “I’ll never understand why the powers-that-be put a little girl in charge of this operation.”
“I’m not a little girl. I’m twenty-six,” Imogen said, immediately regretting it. She did not have to explain herself to him, and it sounded childish when she did.
Alan laughed. “Yeah, you’re a real Methuselah just brimming
