Prehistoric WWII

by Dane Hatchell

  Frantically, the hatchling flapped its wings, striking Erik on the side of the head. But the boy persevered, digging the blade deeper with each blow, and cutting furrows in its flesh.

  Finally, the pressure on his arm subsided. Erik pulled it from the limp beak and pushed away from the slouching beast. It was dead. The other hatchling had not joined in the attack and still waited with an open mouth for its mother to feed it.

  Erik’s forearm felt bruised, and two shallow cuts on the upper and lower side were left from the imprint of the beak. In all, he was in relatively good shape and wasted no time sheathing his knife and climbing off the nest.

  The tree was a little too large for him to wrap his arms completely around it. So, his descent slowed with caution. At least the trunk grew from the mountain at an angle, and he didn’t have to travel straight down. One meter at a time, his heart pounding, the war cries of the flying reptiles cheering him on, at last his feet hit terra firma.

  The rock mountain offered no place to hide. He maneuvered as quickly as possible the sixty meters or so down the rocky surface to the flat ground below.

  As he dashed toward the dense jungle, he realized that the whole time he went down the mountain, he had not heard the cries of the battling pterodactyls. A bad feeling washed over him. The back of his neck felt hot, and his cheeks felt tingly.

  SKEER-AK!

  The screech sounded right by his ear! Something hit him in the back, and he plowed face-first to the ground.

  The winning pterodactyl landed two meters from him, coming to claim its prize.

  Erik flipped over and rose on his knees. He frantically slapped at his side to pull the knife from the scabbard! But it was too late. The reptile’s triangular-shaped head jutted forward. Its pointed beak opened wide as it came in for the death blow.

  Bam! Bam! Bam!

  SKEER-AK!

  Erik fell to his side and lifted his arms over his face.

  Bam! Bam!

  It wasn’t until the second volley of gunfire that Erik realized someone was shooting.

  AK-AHHAK! The pterodactyl, wounded, pounded the air under its wings until it gracelessly became airborne and fled.

  Erik felt the air kicked up from its hasty departure. Unbelievably, he had been saved!

  He rolled to his side and saw a figure approach. It was an American sailor, his rifle pointed at him, his finger on the trigger.

  ***

  Adam Rodrigue traveled briefly by the gulley after narrowly escaping the hungry jaws of troodons, uninspired by his chosen path. He at least knew heading west would lead him to the ocean, but how far away from camp he would be, he didn’t know. To make matters worse, a dinosaur bigger than a double-decker bus, with a duckbill and a strange horn-like thing growing backward on its head, veered him from his path. The problem compounded as he tried to travel back west with other dinosaurs, some who had walked on all fours, and some with bird-like characteristics, and inadvertently pushed his path north.

  He at least had enough sense not travel far in the wrong direction. He elected to take refuge in a tall tree before dusk and spend the night, and stay there for the morning, unable to make a decision of what to do.

  It was possible Captain Brazo would send out a rescue team for him. Even if that happened, the chances of them actually finding him seemed almost zero.

  Just as he left the tree, deciding to head south and taking his chances crossing the tree bridge over the gully, risking the possibility of facing more troodons, he heard shrieks coming from the nearby rock mountain.

  He was shocked when he saw a boy, who looked to be in his early teens, choose his steps carefully as he navigated the side of the mountain to the ground. He was even more shocked when he saw a giant pterodactyl leave the heavens and careen toward him.

  Adam pulled the wad of gum from his mouth, stuck it behind his ear, and double-timed it over toward the boy. Just when the creature knocked him to the ground, Adam stopped and fired his M1.

  The pterodactyl’s leathery body presented a huge enough target, though from where Adam stood, he couldn’t tell if his bullets found the wing or the beast’s body. No matter, his shots were sure enough to send the animal scurrying back to the skies. The boy narrowly escaping death by mere seconds.

  With the threat gone, Adam cautiously approached the boy. He realized that no more than two or three years separated them in age, and he had no visible weapon. That said, there was always the possibility he might have a grenade. The boy had a backpack, and there was no telling what was inside.

  “Are you okay?” Adam asked as he steadily walked forward.

  The youth rose to his feet and brushed off his pants, never taking his eyes off Adam’s.

  “I said are you okay?” Adam had spoken louder and with an edge in his voice. It was obvious by the boy’s clothing that he was a member of Hitler’s youth. The Germans had made it to shore, as Captain Brazo suspected.

  The youth’s right hand drifted toward something on his right hip. It was a knife.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Adam warned.

  The youth’s hand froze in place.

  “You gotta name?” Adam asked.

  “Sprichst du Deutsch?”

  “Don’t play with me, boy. I know all you Germans over there speak French and English. Plus, you understood enough not to go for your knife.”

  The youth remained still, his eyes showing no recognition.

  “Aw, come on. I just saved your life. You can at least talk to me. I ain’t gonna shoot you unless you do something stupid.”

  Biting his lower lip, the youth reached over with his right hand and gently touched the cuts from the hatchling’s beak on his left forearm.

  “Hey, you’re bleeding. You hurt?”

  The youth nodded his head.

  Adam turned his gaze all around, and then up at the sky. “Look, I don’t like standing out here in the open. Seen too many dinosaur things. I ain’t gonna leave you here alone. What say you that we call a truce and try to help each other? I got some stuff in a pack that I can clean your cuts with.”

  “Erik, my name is Erik.”

  “Eric, that’s an American name,” Adam said.

  “My name in English is spelled with a K on the end and not a C.”

  “Yeah, you Krauts use different letters in your names than we do. I remember thinking that when I read some news stories.”

  “What is your name?” Erik asked.

  “Me, my name’s Adam. Like the first man, Adam. You know about Adam and Eve, don’t you?”

  Erik shrugged. “I am Catholic.”

  “What? No way! I’m Catholic,” Adam said. It dawned on him that he had just assumed that the Germans, because of all their evil ways, didn’t believe in God.

  “My mother was Catholic, and I am Catholic, too. Germany has many Christian citizens.”

  “Well, if we’re both Christian nations, why are we fighting each other?” Adam wondered aloud, internally questioning how two countries believing in the same God could be at such odds.

  Erik shrugged again. “I guess the war is not about religion.”

  That answer sounded as logical as any, Adam guessed. Still, they were wasting more time, and he was ready to go back and take cover under the trees. “Okay, I’m going to lower my rifle. We have a truce, right? I promise I won’t do anything to hurt you, and you keep that knife in that scabbard? Deal?”

  “I agree to a truce,” Erik said.

  “What’s in the backpack? You ain’t got no weapons in there, do you?”

  “All I have is a canteen. The backpack is empty because I was on my way to fill it with supplies when our camp was attack—” Erik’s eyes widened as if he realized he let out more information than he thought he should.

  With his rifle pointed to the ground, Adam said, “Com’on over here. Let’s walk under the shade of that tree over there.” He waited for Erik to step by his side, and then matched strides with him by Erik’s right side, keeping a f
urtive watch on the knife.

  Once under the tree, Adam asked, “So, what cut you? Your arm’s sliced top and bottom.” He had Erik’s wrist in one hand and ran his fingers near the cuts. “Not too deep. Blade must have been kinda dull. Not really a clean cut.”

  “I was bitten by a flying reptile—like the one you shot. It was much smaller, though, a baby.”

  Adam chuckled. “I was going to say if you got bit by one as big as I banged up, you wouldn’t have an arm.” He let go of Erik’s wrist and pulled a medical pouch on his side. Retrieving a cotton ball and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol, he opened the bottle, and put some on the cotton. “Now, this may sting a bit.” Adam chuckled again. “You know what, I sound like my mom. Your mom ever tell you that when she puts an anti-septic on a cut?”

  Erik smiled for the first time and nodded. Abruptly, the expression fell from his face.

  “Hey, what’s the matter? Am I hurting you?”

  Erik sighed. “No, it only hurts a little. My mother did say those words to me when she cared for my wounds.”

  “Well, I guess mothers are the same all over the world,” Adam said.

  “I guess you are right,” Erik said, lowering his head. “My mother was killed in the war.”

  Adam’s heart sunk with the weight of Erik’s words. It was obvious the memory was fresh and there had been little time for the grief to pass. “Aw, I’m sorry, man. That’s tough you lost your mother.” Just as quickly as his compassion rose for Erik, he remembered his Uncle David, and how his loss still affected him. It reminded him of his hate for the Germans who had killed his uncle. A hate that he couldn’t transfer toward Erik at this moment for some reason.

  “You know, when you get right down to it, war just don’t make no sense. People just need to learn how to get along. All this fighting and dying just ain’t necessary,” Adam said, mainly to himself. He tossed the crimson-stained cotton ball aside and pulled out a bandage roll from the med-pack. Adam began wrapping Erik’s arm.

  “Adam, I have been thinking the same thing. War hurts every side in the fight. We are better off to find ways to be friends and not enemies.”

  “Well, we have a truce. Soon, the war in Europe will be over, anyway. There’s no reason to keep fighting. The Allies won. You Germans are just gonna have to deal with it, just like losing the first world war,” Adam said, trying to sound like he wasn’t boasting.

  Erik lowered his head and gazed at the ground.

  The poor kid had lost his mother, got separated from his people in this place, and his country had no future after taking half the world on and losing. Adam put himself in Erik’s shoes and knew how low the boy must feel. “Say, are you hungry? I know I am.”

  “Not very. I had biscuits and fish earlier this morning.”

  “I didn’t eat last night. I could use some grub.” Adam reached behind his ear and unstuck the wad of gum he had put there minutes ago. “All I’ve had since yesterday is this gum. You want some gum? I got another piece.”

  Erik nodded.

  Adam reached into his pocket and pulled out a stick of Dentyne chewing gum. “It may have got a little wet yesterday, but the wrapper’s still on it.”

  Taking the slightly-mashed stick of gum, Erik carefully peeled off the paper and popped it in his mouth. “Danke.”

  “Yeah, dahn-keh,” Adam said, thinking the word either meant thanks or good gum. “I got two peppermints I was saving in case I couldn’t find nothing to eat.” He looked around, and said, “Okay, so, before I saw you I had decided to try and make it back to camp the way I came. Thing is, I know how to get most of the way there, at least to this big gully where I only know one place where we can cross. After that, I was at least going to head west and find the ocean, and then try and find where we landed. There were these two-legged dinosaurs, not quite as tall as you, that chased me from camp. If they’re still there, I don’t have enough ammo to kill them all.”

  “Would you take me to my camp?” Erik asked.

  “I…don’t think I like that idea,” Adam said. After a long pause, he said, “How far is your camp?”

  “I do not know. The flying creature held onto my backpack and lifted me away to here. I am not sure how far or in what direction.”

  “If I asked how many of you are at your camp, would you tell me?”

  Considering the question for a moment, Erik said, “Would you tell me how many are in your camp if I asked you?”

  Adam almost reminded Erik that he was the one with the gun but thought better. “You’ll find out sooner or later, if we make it back to camp.” In an attempt to clear the slight tension brewing, he said, “Okay. Let’s focus on getting out of here alive. If we make it back to my camp, you can meet with Captain Brazo. You can decide what you want to tell him. The captain is a fair man. He won’t let anybody hurt you.”

  Erik looked at Adam, with defeat in his eyes, and slowly nodded.

  “You’ll be okay. I promise. And we Catholics always keep our promise, right?”

  Nodding again, Erik’s expression brightened.

  Chapter 17

  Adam and Erik had come upon a dinosaur about the size of a large German Shepherd guarding a nest loaded with big eggs.

  The dinosaur had long legs that kept its beefy chest well above the ground and an unusually large head. Its face and nose looked like a wide, flat beak. At the top of its head, bone jutted out, reminding Adam of the Pope’s hat, in a silly sort of way.

  The dinosaur appeared docile, grazing on vegetation while guarding its nest. Adam had decided to try and steal some eggs by deceit rather than force.

  Some twenty feet away, Erik peeked from behind a tree.

  Adam had left him there and ran a half-circle to flank the protoceratops. Getting as close as he dared, he gave Erik the signal, a simple wave of the hand.

  Erik tossed a rock several feet into the brush near the protoceratops.

  The creature, muted brown and green in color, stopped eating and lifted its head in the direction of the threat. It turned its head from side to side but didn’t move from its watch.

  Adam waved again, and another rock crashed into the brush.

  This time, the protoceratops’ eyes locked toward the noise, and it trotted off to find the interloper.

  Carefully avoiding foliage that might crunch beneath his boots, Adam lightly stepped to the nest. These eggs were larger than a chicken’s; nearly eight inches! He grabbed the front edge of his shirt and created a makeshift basket, fighting to maintain the rifle hanging from its strap on his shoulder. Keeping his eyes in the direction the mother dinosaur had exited, he placed six eggs in his shirt before hearing her make her approach back. Time for him to leave, no need to be greedy.

  The eggs jostled about in his shirt as he took long, slow steps, aiming not to do anything to attract attention. He and Erik had agreed to rendezvous back at a particular tree whether his task had been successful or not.

  Adam had been the first to arrive and knelt by the tree’s large roots. He removed one egg at a time from his shirt. These eggs weren’t hard like chicken eggs. Instead, the shell gave a bit, like they were made from leather. He had no idea if dinosaur eggs were fit to eat, but he was hungry enough to give it a try.

  Gazing around, he saw no sign of Erik. Had the boy decided to take his chances on his own? Emptiness hit him in the stomach, and not from hunger. Adam had only met the boy over an hour ago. The two didn’t really have that much to say to each other, but just having him by his side made Adam feel better.

  Then he caught a glimpse of Erik as he rounded a tree. His eyes went wide in surprise when he saw the German boy’s knife in his hand.

  He removed the rifle from his shoulder and leaned it against a tree root. If he needed to, he could have it up and in his hands in an instant.

  Erik caught sight of him and waved, placing the knife back in the sheath. The boy hurried his pace.

  Tension left Adam’s back, and he waved in return.

  “I
see you were successful,” Erik said as he approached. He gingerly stepped over tree roots, choosing one high enough to sit on comfortably.

  “Yeah, did you see the size of these eggs? Man, I bet it would take three or four chicken eggs to equal one of these.”

  “Are we going to eat now?”

  “You bet we are. I just hope dinosaur eggs taste like bird eggs,” Adam said, sat down, and then picked up an egg and pushed a fingernail into the shell. “These shells aren’t hard. You ever ate a duck egg? I love duck eggs. The yoke’s bigger than in a chicken egg.”

  “No, I do not believe I have ever eaten a duck egg.”

  “Well, they’re the best. Except if the ducks have been eating crawfish. Then the eggs taste kinda nasty because crawfish eat dead stuff.” Adam watched Erik’s head tilt to the side. “You know what a crawfish is, don’t you?” He set the egg back with the others. “You know, it’s a crustacean. About this long.” He held fingers from each hand a few inches apart. “And has claws.” He held his hands out, separating his ring and index fingers in a claw-like fashion.

  “Hummer?” Erik said, holding fingers from either hand a foot or more apart.

  “No, crawfish don’t get that big. I bet you’re thinking of lobster. Well, think of a crawfish like a little lobster.”

  Erik nodded. “How will we cook the eggs?”

  “I was thinking about eating them raw. Sounds gross, but some people eat raw eggs. I got some matches. We can build a fire and try to cook them in the shell.”

  Twigs snapped from behind Adam.

  Erik lifted his gaze, and his jaw dropped.

  ***

  Captain Brazo stared down at the sailor’s innocent face as he placed the Colt .45 back in its holster. Gone was any contortion from his expression of fear induced by the ferocious dinosaurs who so savagely attacked. The bullet left a hole in the sailor’s skull the size of a half-dollar: a window to crimson-gray jelly.

  The remaining crew of eighteen softly approached, many with collapsible shovels, and all with freshly loaded rifles. Under the soft sounds of an unthreatening jungle, the wind lazily shaking leaves in the trees, and an occasional cry from the indigenous bird-creatures, the crewmen set to task at burying their shipmates.