Z. Raptor

by Steve Cole

  “We’ll make room. Get in!”

  Bracing himself, Adam squeezed through the hole feetfirst. Hands grabbed his flailing ankles, pulling hard to draw him down into the darkness. He had a panicked, suffocating moment as the hard-packed mud of the entrance dragged against his ears and hair. More hands pulled at his shirt and sides—and then he was dropping down into a dark, sweat-stinking concrete pit in the ground, pressed up against Harm and Lisa. Their bony limbs jabbed against his. The rasp of their breathing filled the stale air.

  “Curl up,” Harm hissed at him. “Make more space.”

  With neat, economical movements, David worked himself into the tiny shelter, then reached for something heavy at his feet and forced it with some difficulty up into the hole. The trickle of daylight was blocked off. Adam heard the scrape of concrete against earth as the makeshift plug was wedged securely into their point of entry, a metal pole holding it in place. Only a chink of sunlight broke through.

  Adam held himself tensely in the pitch darkness, trying not to shake. He was sure he could hear stamping noises getting closer. “What happens now?”

  “We wait for them to leave,” said David.

  “But won’t they sniff us out down here? I mean, their sense of smell must be—”

  “That’s enough,” David told him.

  Adam turned to Lisa instead and lowered his voice further. “Is that hole in the roof the only way in?”

  “It is now,” Lisa muttered. “A pack of Brutes stamped the roof in when they couldn’t get in through the main entrance. Most of the shelter collapsed.”

  Adam swallowed hard. “And you still use what’s left?”

  “What choice have we got?” Harm whispered.

  The four fugitives heard grunts and heavy footfalls. Then an earthy, scraping sound, like a shovel hitting concrete.

  Lisa started to whimper as the plug in the ceiling began to budge and a loud hissing sound started up, like someone using a spray can. Except the hissing went on. David held Lisa’s hand. “We’re safe down here,” he breathed.

  But then something poked down into sight through the narrow gap next to the concrete plug. Not rope. The end of a rubber hose. And immediately white smoke coiled out from inside.

  “What is that?” Lisa held her hand to her mouth.

  David started choking, gasping for breath. “Gas,” he spluttered.

  “Gas?” Lisa wailed incredulously. “How did they—”

  “Who cares how?” Adam’s eyes felt suddenly on fire. “We’ve got to block it!” He ripped at the hem of his shirt, trying to tear it free. But his efforts were hampered as the others started to jostle and push into the narrow space. Nose and eyes streaming, saliva coming so fast he thought he might hurl, Adam fell to his knees. Lisa was shrieking in his ear. David and Harm coughed and retched as the gas misted over the crack of sunlight. The raptors above began to stamp their feet.

  They’re using human weapons against us, Adam realized, his throat on fire. They’re going to smash their way inside and then reach in and pluck out our bodies.

  10

  STOLEN PREY

  Adam could barely see; his eyes burned like someone had rubbed them with chili peppers. He knocked against the base of the metal pole holding the concrete plug in place—just as a stamp from above smashed the rock in two. A chunk hit his leg, and sunlight burst in like a spotlight. Something metal clattered down into the tiny space—a canister, spewing out the evil smoke. Eyes awash, Adam saw a claw as big as his face plunge down into the dugout, grasping blindly. He grabbed the concrete and swung it at the creature’s hand, trying to knock it away. But the claw closed around his wrist, and with a choking gasp, Adam found himself hauled up, clear out of the dugout.

  Blazing sunlight hit his skin, closely followed by hard, scaly flesh. Before his terror could even fully register, he was thrown aside, a tree root biting into his spine. He heard Lisa’s shriek and a deep, bestial snarl as the other Vel rooted about in the concrete cavity. Forcing his swollen eyes apart, he glimpsed through his tears a blurred red shape bearing down on him. Rank breath hissed into his face.

  “You will join us.” The Vel spoke in a grating rasp as though choking up the syllables. “All of you will join us for the feast.”

  “No,” Adam moaned helplessly. “No, please . . .” He felt his wrists being bound roughly and clumsily with the rubber tubing. He cried out as the raptor’s claws scraped at his flesh.

  But then the monster was knocked clear by some massive impact. It grunted with pain as it slammed into something, started snarling and snapping its jaws. There was a wet crunch of flesh on flesh, a howl of anger. The foliage around Adam danced and shook as though alive and wild. A second roar, deeper and angrier, sounded to his left—the second Vel, close by. Whimpering with fear, Adam tried again to open his swollen eyes, but then the sounds of struggle broke off and something picked him up. Sharp claws pressed into the small of his back as it ran off, taking him away. Adam felt sharp, stubby feathers chafe his neck, his body clamped hard against folds of reptilian skin. Another raptor, he realized. Got to be a Brute. Brutes hate Vels. This one’s stolen their prey.

  Helplessly, Adam began to struggle in the creature’s grip. It was too strong. He couldn’t overbalance it, and it didn’t seem to feel the blows he rained down on its back. Any moment now, he imagined, that acidic spray would eject from its mouth, searing his flesh. ...

  But then suddenly he was dumped to the ground. He lay for a few seconds, still choking from the gas. His eyes had cleared enough to see he was lying in long grass just beyond a leafy tangle of creepers. The space was wide open, no cover. Something was trampling quickly through the undergrowth toward him, and there was nowhere to hide.

  “Stay there,” came an eerie voice—a voice that made Adam picture the steam of breath on cold glass. And with a surge of sudden hope, he realized it was a voice he’d heard before.

  “Are . . .” Adam choked. “Are you Loner? The one who helped Lisa? The one who—”

  “Yes.” The voice was eerily soft for such a fiercelooking animal. “I am Loner.”

  Adam blinked away his tears, focused—and then flinched. The blurred video he’d watched in the safety of a UN conference room had done no justice at all to the scale and power of this creature before him. Loner stood taller than a man but hunched over in the classic prehistoric predator stance, arms hooked over and outstretched. Piercing orange eyes shone in the low, elongated head that crowned the thick curl of his neck. The scarlet-striped snout sniffed and quivered. His thighs were bunched with corded muscle, and the claws curling out from his hind feet were like butcher’s hooks. A thicket of thorny quills blanketed his chest and shoulders.

  The creature stood there, breathing heavily. Just watching. Unbelievable, but so real.

  The stamping noise was getting louder. “Is that the Vels?” Adam croaked.

  “I killed one of them.” Loner shifted his weight from foot to foot as though anxious or in distress. “I took you here to lure the other Vel away from the bunker.”

  Adam stared at him helplessly. “What?”

  “The gas left the others helpless. But you are free.”

  So it’s coming to get me, Adam realized.

  “Stay still,” hissed Loner. “Trust me.”

  Trust you? How can I? You’re . . . Adam looked into Loner’s unblinking eyes. You’re an impossible creature, put together by madmen from scraps of fossil, given powers no wild animal ever had. He was scared and sickened, but it was like some force was compelling him to keep searching out Loner’s eyes. Then he found himself nodding. If I’m wrong, he thought darkly, I guess it won’t hurt for very long.

  Loner turned abruptly and left the glade with a striding, birdlike gait, disappearing back into the thicker trees.

  It was too late for Adam to move now, in any case. A raptor, similar in build to Loner, yet darker and with thicker stripes, burst out of the foliage and skidded to a stop at the sight of the human prey befo
re it. Hissing and snorting, it lowered its head and tore toward him, clawed feet kicking up the turf. Adam opened his mouth to scream.

  But then, mid-charge, the creature dropped out of sight—fell through the covering of foliage into a hidden pit beneath. A trap, Adam realized, his pulse rate as wild as the howling raptor in its prison of mud. Loner must’ve dug the pit. I was the bait to lure that thing inside.

  He edged away nervously as the raptor began thrashing and clawing at the steep walls of the pit. But the next moment, the leafy vegetation to Adam’s left exploded as Loner charged back out, built up speed and then jumped inside the pit, his large feet trampling the raptor caught inside.

  There was a wet, crunching sound and a rattle of wheezing breath, and the captive raptor’s struggles ceased.

  Loner hauled himself back out from the hole in the ground, using the body lodged inside for leverage. Once clear, he lay on the ground, apparently exhausted.

  Adam looked into the pale orange ovals of Loner’s eyes; the sly intelligence of the predator shone there, as they had in the eyes of Zed. But here was something else too—uncertainty, maybe. Or regret.

  “I had to,” Loner whispered.

  “Uh . . .” Adam licked his dry lips. “Had to what?”

  “To kill.” Loner’s breathing grew slower, more even.

  “The first of my pack brothers I killed swiftly and by surprise. The second would have slashed my throat if I had not done this.” He stared down at the hole in the ground. “I dug the pit for catching ostrich, you see? There were spikes at the bottom. But . . . not sharp enough.”

  Adam shuddered. “So you jumped on that thing to . . . to push it down onto the spikes?”

  “Not ‘that thing,’” Loner snapped. “Pack brother.” His tail flicked over the edges of the pit as if to caress the mangled remains inside. “He was like me. But not like me.” He looked at Adam and edged closer. “Same with you. You are like the other humans . . . but not.”

  Adam shook his head. The weird reality of his situation was sinking in. I’m having a full-on conversation with a dinosaur. He’d grown used to Zed grunting syllables at him like a belligerent child. But Loner spoke more like Adam himself. Geneflow’s techniques have grown way, way more advanced—and in just a few months.

  Adam felt more afraid than ever.

  “I saw you on the beach.” Loner rose up slowly on his haunches. “Smelled you. I was following you, when my pack brothers . . .” The bestial head cocked to one side. “How do I know you so deep down? How do I know . . . the thought of you?”

  Adam flinched as the bestial head pushed slowly toward him on the elongating S of its neck. He swallowed hard. “I guess you were taught with something called Think-Send. My dad invented it, and he used my brain waves to get the whole thing working.”

  “Like an echo in my head,” Loner said hoarsely. “Yes?”

  “Maybe.” Adam could see every scale of that rough, reptilian face now, close enough to touch, and thought of Zed. “Maybe there’s a trace of my thoughts in your head. It happened that way before. I’m Adam Adlar.”

  “Adlar.” The towering creature nudged Adam’s head, scraping his scales against Adam’s skin. He closed his eyes, held his breath. He realized that Loner was doing the same. Then they both released a shaky sigh at the same time, and the raptor recoiled. Adam, with relief, fell backward, supporting himself with his hands. He felt like a lion tamer who’d just put his head in the lion’s mouth during his first day on the job.

  A fresh crashing started up from the jungle, but from the choking and slow speed, Adam realized it was Harm and the others.

  “Hello?” he called to them.

  “Adam?” David called back. “Thank God!” The crashing got faster and louder, and David was first to emerge from the trees, his haggard face streaked with tears. He was leading Lisa by the hand; her eyes were swollen and closed. Harm was last out, looking sick and scared. She saw Loner hunched there on the ground and reacted, crying out.

  “It is me, Harmony.” The raptor turned and lowered his head, almost as if bowing. “Do not be afraid.”

  “We thought you must be dead, Loner.” David pulled off his hat and wiped his glistening brow, trying to stifle his coughing. “We haven’t seen you for so long.”

  “I have been in hiding,” he said quietly, rocking on his haunches. “Fresh-caught human prisoners at the Vel camp saw me there and begged me to help them as before. My rulers now know that I have sided with your kind. They tried to kill me.” Loner bowed his head. “Like you, I am a fugitive now.”

  “Well . . . thank you.” David surveyed the pit’s grisly contents. “You saved our lives.”

  He’s talking to a dinosaur as casually as—Adam caught himself. As casually as I would. When confronted with the reality of talking dinosaurs, you could either crack up or come to grips with it. How long had he wanted to talk about his experiences to people who wouldn’t laugh in his face, who would understand?

  Lisa’s fingers strayed to her puffy eyes. “What was that stuff they used on us?”

  “From the way our mucous glands have been affected, some sort of tear gas, I think.” David pulled a rusted canister from his shorts pocket. “Probably World War II issue. The Vel camp is an old military base, after all, and we know they’ve found leftover munitions.”

  “Like the explosives they set off on the old airstrip.” Lisa shuddered. “Testing out human weapons.”

  Adam looked at David. “You used to teach history?”

  “Science.” David scrutinized the canister. “Lucky for us the gas must have lost some of its potency over the years. In that enclosed space, it could have suffocated us.”

  “How come it didn’t hurt them?” Harm wondered.

  “Geneflow probably bred them with better lungs than ours,” said Adam.

  “My throat’s burning,” Lisa said, tears squeezing from her swollen lids. “Evil monsters. They’re not happy just to hunt us now; they’re trying to torture us.”

  Loner seemed to be getting agitated. “We must all leave here. My brothers will soon be missed. More will come. The Council of Blood has spoken—all humans are to be gathered.”

  Adam shook his head. “For this feast of theirs?”

  “Then we’re finished.” Harm coughed noisily, rubbing at her neck. “The Vels can sniff us out wherever we are.”

  “They’ve been picking off groups like ours one by one for so long,” said David. “Why the sudden urgency to get us?”

  Adam got awkwardly to his feet. “Isn’t the question more why has it taken the raptors so long? You’ve been here three months—surely they could’ve hunted you down easily.”

  Harm shot him a look. “Enough of them have tried.”

  But David was shaking his head. “It’s not that simple, Harm. Adam’s right. The fact we’ve survived all this time can’t only be the result of luck, or caution, or skill. For the most part, the raptors have been content to feed on the ostriches Geneflow brought here. And by the way, ostriches are the perfect animals for this environment, you know that? Because they don’t need to drink water. Some they make themselves, the rest they get out of vegetation—so they don’t compete with the raptors or us.”

  “School’s out, Mr. Wilder, ’kay? We don’t need a lesson.” Harm crossed her arms, but her surly tone couldn’t disguise the worry on her face. “What are you saying?”

  Irritation flared in his reddened eyes. “I’m saying what we already know—that this place has been set up for some kind of an experiment.” David looked around gravely at his audience. “Only I don’t think it’s just about the dinosaurs. Us humans are a part of the experiment too.”

  “And all humans must be gathered,” Loner said in his icy whisper. “For the feast.”

  11

  BRUTE TERRITORY

  Loner’s words hung heavily in the air for a few moments. Harm’s next coughing fit, loud and hacking, finally kicked them to the tropical curbside.

  “Thi
s conversation is real fun,” she said weakly, “but I’ve got to have some water. My throat feels like it’s been peeled raw.”

  David nodded slowly as if summoning the strength to continue. “We need to bathe your eyes too, Lisa,” he said. “You’ve had some sort of allergic reaction.”

  Lisa nodded. “The water bottle from the boat—?”

  David shook his head. “It split when we were stamping around inside the dugout. Nothing left.”

  “Nothing left,” Lisa echoed, and seemed to deflate. “I hardly tasted it.”

  “What else do you do for drinking water?” Adam asked. “I mean, with so many raptors here . . .”

  “Loner and his friends can drink the seawater,” David said. “I don’t know how. It ought to kill them. They must have some kind of high-functioning salt gland.”

  “We get most of our water from unripe coconuts,” said Lisa, her voice dull and distant. “And most of our food from the ripe ones.”

  “Which reminds me,” Harm mumbled, pulling a handful of plants from her satchel, “I got us some purslane.” She pressed it into Lisa’s palm, and the woman shoved it into her mouth, chewing quickly. Harm offered some to David, but he passed his share straight to Lisa. She took it willingly, muttering thanks.

  Loner tapped his tail on the ground, almost as though shyly knocking to enter the conversation. “I can collect water for you,” he said in his soft, cold voice, “from the rain traps in the north cliffs.”

  “We haven’t been back that way for weeks,” Harm realized.

  “Too far to trek in our condition,” David reminded her. “We’d use up more energy than we’d get back.”

  “I can collect the water,” Loner repeated. “And food too.”

  Adam regarded the raptor. “Thank you,” he said.

  Loner turned his eyes to Adam in turn. “I will need help to carry it back.”

  “I’ll go,” Adam volunteered.

  Loner nodded almost imperceptibly.

  “You just got here,” Harm said. “And already you’ve needed your butt saved twice.”