Great Big Teeth

by Eddie Generous

  Dick prodded his injury. It had started to sting after the cold water numbed it. The hole was deep and the way his arm wanted to dangle at one end and seemed bunch up top made him think a muscle had come away. At the time of the incident, it had hurt like nothing he’d felt before. The pain had changed in stages, making this liveable, but meaning he still couldn’t climb, even bandaged.

  “Hey?” he whisper-yelled up the stem. “Hey!”

  “What?” This was Peter’s voice.

  “It’s gone and we should keep moving.”

  “What if it comes back?” Still Peter.

  “Yeah,” Emily seconded.

  “Well you can’t stay up there forever. You’ll starve.”

  “Not me, I got nuts and Skor bits.” Peter had pocketed what he could from the Dairy Queen haul that Stevie had brought back where the others hadn’t.

  “We have to get back above ground.”

  At this, David imagined the before times place and began climbing down.

  Emily followed next. Then Stevie. Then Peter.

  6

  Wednesday, April 30, 2019: 1:40PM

  TV soldiers, breaking across a no-man’s land. They had no weapons—what handheld option would kill a dinosaur? A germ maybe, a virus perhaps, but what were the chances? The best hope was to stay low and move quickly.

  They covered little space in the hour or so since they’d really gotten down to moving forward. David had wanted to go back, explained the size of the place, but relented when he agreed that the only other time he’d been to the bad side was a brief visit and he did not follow the river until the way back out, so he didn’t really know. They could’ve made it further faster had Dick not slowed them down, feigning more pain and exhaustion than he felt.

  He’d see things and need to observe them. A third species of insect entered the list. A dragonfly, one a little shorter than a raven, buzzed around them until sighting one of the mosquito-like pests and trailing it behind the orange curtains of light.

  “What makes them glow?” Peter asked as they huddled in the middle of a mushroom patch, caps clustered tight around them, standing about six feet high.

  “Not sure, but my guess is bioluminescent bacteria. It’s how the anglerfish catch their prey. Evolution is full of one-off oddities, so I could be wrong. I’ll need to come back with a team.” Dick poked at his arm gently as he scanned the mossy floor for worms.

  “Come back? How come you would come back?” David was aghast.

  “Knowledge and understanding are what makes life worth living. This place is a fantastic resource of unknowns. It needs to be studied, cataloged, and—”

  “Recorded for Netflix,” Stevie said, crunching on some of Peter’s pocket Skor chunks.

  “Right.” Dick wanted very much to be on a documentary. He’d be the first human standing in front of a living, breathing dinosaur. He’d be one of those scientists who become famous for half a news cycle and never have to worry about funding ever again.

  To their left, far enough to be barely visible, a group of Velociraptors circled an infantile tank-pig. The stony-looking shell was still pinkish and appeared soft. The horn came up like a budding wisdom tooth.

  Dick made a show of holding his chest. “Can we break a minute? My lungs are…” He trailed so that the others, young but not stupid, could connect the dots he laid before them. He squinted so that his eyes might pass for closed as he leaned on his knees and watched the show.

  The count was six and the Velociraptors were each about a third of the size of the tank-pig, but they were fast and they were vicious. One snapped in the whining tank-pig’s face while the other clawed beneath its tail, obviously seeking a tender area. The tank-pig spun and another Velociraptor latched onto the rear end, the inner thigh this time. The tank-pig jerked around, trying to kick the thing off, but it held and blood began to fall. It screamed and the Velociraptors swarmed to the bloody leg and the baby tank-pig was on its side. Its screams traveled, but nobody came. The Velociraptors, the snake-chickens, killed the young thing and then feasted.

  “Okay,” Dick said and straightened.

  The others were trying not to watch, but obviously seeing. They started walking, crouched, and then took to jogging. David would pick a distant cropping of stone or mushrooms and lead them in a roundabout route, going from cover to cover, until stopping and waiting, starting all over again.

  They’d crossed paths with everything but the big ones, but he wasn’t surprised. They were rarer and most times, you felt them more than saw them. When you felt them, you forgot about your friends and bolted for somewhere solid.

  They were across a meadow full of oversized dragonflies when David moaned and held his belly. He squatted and tried to keep running as diarrhea blasted from him.

  “Jesus Christ,” Stevie said, taking a wide route.

  Unthinking, the night before, they indulged in chocolate-covered waffle cones and the bottom of the bag of Oreo pieces Peter had saved. David grinned madly over the sweetness. That sweetness was coming out of him in a much less sweet manner.

  “Eww,” Emily whispered and continued jogging. She’d gone more and more quiet since Tanya died. She was the only girl. The other girls of the group, though she hadn’t linked up when Charlie Warinka was around and went, so did that mean she was next? As she passed, part of her hoped David would die of what his body was doing just so she couldn’t be next. Let the universe eat up a boy instead.

  “Do you need help?” Peter said on his way past. He’d worried a great deal about taking a shit out there. He’d never even shit in an outhouse. Running water every time—since he was old enough to make use of it.

  David held his cheeks spread and hurried with surprising ability.

  Dick said nothing, looking above David as if he didn’t see him. Stevie stopped the motion of the group under a stubby mushroom and they all sat in the moss, leaned on elbows and waited, watching.

  Dick was still going, moaning. Suddenly, the ground began to shake and David stopped all but the bowel movement and looked around. At the last possible second, he leapt straight up as a horn emerged from the orange haze. David flipped higher in the air, landing on the back of a full-sized tank-pig. It continued forward, followed by three adults and two juveniles, though much bigger than the one devoured by Velociraptors.

  Bouncing, once, twice, David latched onto the shell of the tank-pig and clung. The parade quickly left view.

  “What the fuck do we do now?” Stevie shook his head.

  Dick said, “We follow the river out.”

  “But he held on. What if we can help him?” Peter looked angry. “We said we’d take him out. We have to help him. He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for us.”

  Dick loaded up to argue that it was David’s mother’s fault that the boy was stuck where he was and that nobody forced him to come along, but he said none of this. He wanted to see more of the great beasts that resembled the mysterious nodosaur.

  The spongey moss was trampled, but reviving its shape quickly. They hurried until they reached the river and looked across. There was a big cave and much grunting.

  7

  Wednesday, April 30, 2019: 5:39PM

  The tank-pigs circled out front of a foul-smelling cave, drying their shells and burning pent up energy. As they slowed and the one David clung to rounded to the most northern point of the current track, David leapt to the ground. He didn’t dare look behind him, sprinting to a twenty-foot mushroom. He scrambled up and out of sight.

  When he did look, it was at disinterested beasts far enough away that they fell into the orange haze. All he had to do was wait and head back up the river, abort this insane idea. There had to be another way out, now that he knew there was an out.

  Tank-pigs usually wore themselves down or something else grabbed their interest. However, according to the stench of that cave, this might be home base for the beasts, meaning David might have to risk them once again.

  But not yet.

&n
bsp; No.

  He could take the time to slow his heartrate and catch his breath.

  Clinging upside down, legs wrapped and shoulders nuzzled over firm seams of cap fins, he tried to imagine the before times place. There had been pictures and things like cars and chocolate, stuff his grandmother sometimes talked about, but he hardly believed it ever existed. He tried to imagine all the differences in people.

  Hell, the group he’d come to move with had more shades of hair color than he’d ever considered, and the clothes they wore…they weren’t exactly like what his grandmother had said, but they sure were bright.

  The shit that hadn’t washed away from his ass when the tank-pig carted him over the river had begun drying and was itchy. The way the others acted made him wonder what he’d done wrong. They wore clothes to cover up and look different, he grasped that, but when a nasty bowel movement came, it came…where else would he be weird and what would people scorn him about if he ever reached the before times place? Was it worth all that trouble to go?

  He scratched himself as he pondered this then wiped his hand in the rubbery folds of the mushroom fins. He was good at living where he did. Good enough anyway. He could scale and hide and run and swim and survive.

  His grandmother was simply protecting him. That’s why she didn’t want them in contact with the strangers. And here he was being difficult and stupid. He had brothers and sisters and parents and his grandmother; what more did he need?

  David looked out near the river and his thoughts froze in their tracks. He didn’t know the word for what he needed, but he saw the physical representation of the word crossing a toppled stem, over the river, then sprinting to safety into an ovular cropping of rocks that rose nearly as high as his current hideaway. He needed what they offered, a connection without necessity. You were born tied to a family; sometimes they helped you and sometimes they hurt you. But this, whatever this was, it was different and undeniable.

  David would get out and know more of this, would bask in it.

  He wiped his sweaty brow and began timing the tank-pigs. They were still running strong, though some had paused to dig beneath the moss and carve the stone and dirt below. He guessed he could count to ten—He knew how to count to one thousand—but he needed an average window longer than that. He’d miscalculated, should’ve run for a shorter mushroom, one easier to see or get away from. A better mushroom choice for a host of reasons.

  The one called Stevie had climbed to the top of the rock mound and was looking around. It hit David then that they didn’t actually know where he was or that he was all right. He squeezed his shoulders together and let his upper-half fall while his legs remained connected. He swung his arms to get Stevie’s attention.

  Stevie was looking near him, but not seeing him. David turned to the beasts, gave it a thought, and made a noise he hoped they wouldn’t hear, but that Stevie might.

  “Yooo!”

  Stevie looked over. David waved. Stevie waved back. A tank-pig looked up and snorted with wild excitement. It charged at the mushroom stalk where David hung.

  “Uh-oh,” he said and jerked upright to secure his grip. He dug deep and hoped for the best. If he’d known what a god was, he might’ve prayed to it.

  The tank-pig gored the mushroom and bounced backward. Another saw the game and joined in, though not understanding why. The second hit sent the mushroom falling, and David’s organs bumped into his lungs and he gasped.

  The cap split and David’s portion spun away from the stock. It had only just begun slowly in motion when another thump rocked it. Huge chunks of the enormous cap flew in every direction. All around him he could hear the wild grunts of busy beasts. His body tensed and another strike sent what remained of the cap airborne.

  A moan escaped David’s throat a heartbeat prior to the third strike. There was more him than mushroom left as he flew, high, high, high and then fell so fast and hard that the river seemed to slap him with an open hand. His knees pounded against the bottom and his chin popped against his knees. He felt several of his molars crack. The orange of the world was miles overhead. He was sunken in the icy doom. He rose and floated facedown.

  8

  Wednesday, April 30, 2019: 7:02PM

  Peter crept away from the safety of the dimmer area of the U-shaped rock outcropping, as he had in the fallen down bank, and watched the action unfold. He saw David waving, saw the mushroom fall, re-spotted him after the second strike, and finally saw him flung from the cap, into the river.

  David floated, but looked dead.

  The tank-pigs were dismantling the broken mushroom, playing a primitive game of volleyball with the spongey hunks. They hadn’t registered David, or perhaps saw enough fun to be had without him.

  Peter saw a chance and took it, breaking for the river. He was a good swimmer, nothing great, but if he powered along with the current, maybe he could reach David, or maybe David would snag on something.

  He dove, and for a moment, the air in his lungs evacuated and his heart ceased beating. It was so cold compared to the balmy underworld. He recovered as his head rose above the surf and he gasped warm air. He tried to swim, tried to really push, but his arms and legs were incredibly heavy. Mostly he could float and watch, kicking off the bottom whenever his body sank.

  The waves thrashed him sideways and he went under, toes skidding painfully off a rock. He bounced off the lip of the shore and spun toward the middle. At the last possible second, he spotted David, his body leaning against the shore and his legs making a V over a tall stone. Peter reached out and latched on, swinging himself around and nearly dislodging David.

  He got his feet beneath him and jumped, clamping down on handfuls of moss. He pulled and kicked. The moss seemed to stretch and slip. He scrabbled, a bark emitting from the back of his throat, and then his hips were up, then his knees, and finally his feet. He rested for a single breath before he flipped over and grabbed onto David, dragging him up onto the shore.

  He wasn’t breathing.

  Like every modernized human being, Peter had seen CPR performed on countless films. David’s body was a heavy sack of lumps and loose ends. Peter went to work on David’s chest, then below his chest, and then a couple shots to his gut, but nothing happened, so he bent and pinched his nose, blew down his throat—all the air he had; upright, he gasped and went back down to force more air, making him lightheaded. He straightened again, began slamming, hard, everywhere, just banging and punching, until finally David vomited water, blood, and bile.

  Peter clapped his hands. “Yes!”

  David sat up and then flopped sideways, began crying in a way that made him seem like a very small child.

  “It’s okay, you’re okay now.”

  David tried to move, but couldn’t really. His eyes began to flutter and Peter thought maybe sleep was okay, so long as he kept on breathing. He watched. Eyes closed, David’s chest did nothing, and then it did. It rose and fell. Slow and steady.

  Peter fell back and relaxed. Closed his own eyes for what seemed like a couple seconds. Then he felt it. Something bit his elbow. He sat up, looked at the ugly bird face. It was one of the Velociraptors.

  “Screw off.” Peter took a swing. The thing jumped back.

  Something pecked at his back then and he spun, getting to his knees. He eyed the thing. It had a long face, its mouth open like an alligator, but with teeth too damned big for its mouth. Absurd teeth. Teeth that didn’t fit.

  He took a better swing at this one. “Screw off.”

  Another beak-jab landed, but this time it was no teeth, just a prod, right in the ass cheek. Peter dropped onto his seat and spun like he was dancing in the concrete jungle rather than a Jules Verne nightmare. He kicked out and hit both Velociraptors that had attacked from that angle.

  Two quick pecks and a scratch nailed his back and shoulders.

  “Ah!” Peter turned, his elbows jerking out like he was attempting to topple bowling pins. “Fuck off!”

  There were three on tha
t side suddenly. Understanding, he pre-emptively kicked his upper-half around to look. Five Velociraptors leapt onto him. He grabbed and pulled, punched, and wailed.

  “David! David, help!”

  They clawed and bit. Those teeth were big and sharp, but not razor sharp. Each bite demanded, ripped.

  “David!”

  Peter tossed two from his neck and chest. He reached down to the pair trying to latch onto his hips. Then he felt more land on him. The bites and scratches were coming fast.

  “David.” His words were a quiet plea full of blood. His leg shot out and nailed David’s sleeping chin. “Please.”

  The fight was a losing one, then quickly the pain began departing and the beasts were being torn off him. He looked up. There were Stevie and Emily, both raging against the bastardly things.

  “Hold on.” Emily said this right before she grabbed one of the Velociraptors and turned to slam its head against a rock.

  Stevie remembered David’s method and instead of working to kill the things, he tried to break their stiff tails. The action was surprisingly easy. They scratched and bit at him, landing many glancing blows, but he could toss them like pillows after he broke the bones of their tails. They couldn’t rise, could only whine and flop, kick and scratch. Moving in on a target was impossible for them.

  Emily grabbed another, spun, and dunked it in the river. She held it, watching the bubbles rise from its oversized mouth as it screamed in silence.

  “Oh God,” she said, turning to see Stevie yanking away the final creature. It had way too much Peter in its mouth. She saw inside him, saw his organs and stomach, the ugly coil of intestine. “Oh God.”

  Peter’s mouth opened and he licked his lips. “Hey, you came too.”