by David Boyle
Similar but far larger than the frilled animals they’d seen earlier, Charlie saw too that in this herd there were no babies, no juveniles… and no females if size was any indication. The chilling implication being that they were all bulls. Love starved bachelors, and horny in more ways than one. All of them spoiling for a fight.
Damn they were big.
Kicking sand and trembling at the force of their exertions, the two combatants were locked head to head, chests heaving as each felt for signs of weakness in the other. One shoved… and the other shoved back, the other young toughs milling like an angry mob and grunting encouragement, scuffling amongst themselves and banging heads in ritual determination of their position in line of succession.
Watching just long enough to be certain he hadn’t been spotted, Charlie waved to Hayden, desperate to get his attention. Which he eventually did. Thank God. Hayden groped his way out on a branch with a ‘Yeah, I’m hurrying’ gesture, and promptly went back to hacking. Charlie gasped. “No no, Prentler, don’t….”
But up the beach, heads were already turning. And with each skirmish ended the dinosaurs closed ranks. To Charlie they looked like artillery, long horns sweeping the shoreline for something to destroy. Feet started stomping. And a collective grumble swept the herd, growing in volume until the shoreline sounded like Indianapolis in May, powerful engines rumbling to life. And in the next seconds the entire herd of multi-ton animals was thundering down the beach.
“Ohhhh shit!”
Charlie tossed in the revolver, and on impulse snatched the remaining tree limb and jammed it under the thwarts. He ran the canoe into the shallows and hopped aboard, his heartbeat blending with the thump of hoof beats as infuriated dinosaurs charged alongshore and into the lake.
He chanced a glimpse over his shoulder, stroking, then let the boat coast when he saw the animals swiping at the water with their shiny hooked beaks. Five stood glaring in belly-deep water, snapping and jerking their heads as if goring him from a distance. Two others were ripping the branches he’d left behind. His scent maybe? or frustration?
At least the bastards didn’t like the water. They weren’t exactly built for it, what with that shield and all. Still, Charlie had never heard of an animal that couldn’t swim at all, so he’d make certain to keep a respectable distance.
“Keep my distance,” he grumbled, kicking away the broranges that had rolled to his end of the boat. Charlie glared past the now unified and thoroughly aggravated bulls to where Hayden was hopefully shaking in his boots. “Keep my distance and get to you at the same time.”
He thunked his paddle across the gunnels. “And how the hell am I supposed to do that?”
The timing couldn’t have been worse. First the horns… now these guys. Hayden sighed. It was enough to make a guy swear off exploring.
How many there were he’d find out once he was on the ground, though a quick scan located five nearby and the legs, arms, and tails of six or seven others. Sleek and trim, and with long necks that reminded him of greyhounds, the dinosaurs that had invaded the grove were very different from the bulky duckbills he was accustomed to seeing. A smaller head. No crest. And except for the stripes on their flanks, nothing particularly extraordinary about their coloration. They were watching before he knew they were there, and paid him no more and no less attention than they did their surroundings, staring for long seconds before resuming their dainty, almost lady-like search for fallen broranges.
The relaxed and near dignified manner exhibited by the Ladysaurs was in blatant contrast to the goings-on a few stories down and along the beach. The triceratops were an ugly bunch, and in serious need of an education when it came to greeting tourists. Charlie was paddling south at the moment, pissed off most likely and burning nervous energy, and safely clear of harm’s way.
Hayden walked the limb into the sunshine, trimming branches to get a better view. Out in the lake, Charlie slammed down his paddle and shook his fist.
“You idiot! Now look what you’ve got us….”
Yeah, he was pissed alright—four of the triceratops charged into the shallows—as were the boys on the beach. They weren’t so much a herd as a gang, some kicking sand, others goring the shallows, clicks sounding as they popped their wickedly hooked beaks. One splashed to the green deep water drop off before stopping to gore the water.
Apparently even bullies had limits.
From his vantage Hayden had the perfect view of ceratopsian tactics. Except for a few branches, he could see along the outer edge of the ridge for nearly an eighth of a mile in both directions. He looked again at the silt clouding the water and out to Charlie. He hadn’t been watching the whole time of course, but the footprints and silt seemed to correspond to Charlie’s nervous wanderings. Where Charlie went, the triceratops followed, moving whenever and wherever he did to block his approach to the beach. Like gigantic puppets on a string….
A grin wrinkled his cheeks. Yeah, that should work. Get Charlie to lure the triceratops north and he’d have all the time he needed to make a break. Then get to deep water and wait to be picked up. How hard can that be?
Knife secured, Hayden slipped the fannypack back around, all the while watching the Ladysaurs, then started down. He didn’t go out of his way to make noise, and wasn’t all that quiet either. The long necks came up, as expected, the dinosaurs staring, two with their mouths stuffed, though no longer chewing. A couple steps lower and the nearest three pranced away to join their companions. Uneasy initially at the prospects of having an audience, Hayden was convinced by the time he reached the ground that the dinosaurs were more nervous than he was. He saw too that his count was low, the animals as a group seeming… well, twitchy.
“It’s okay, ladies,” he said reassuringly. “I’ll be gone before you know it.” A few of the animals tiptoed nervously away, then stopped and checked back to see if he was following. Like he had a disease or something. He jogged toward the thicket, relishing the breeze blowing off the lake and chuckling under his breath. Why couldn’t all dinosaurs be like that?
He found an opening and waved to Charlie, who was still looking glum.
And really, why not? Bull didn’t know the plan….
That thought, and more the question it raised, brought Hayden to a stop. He stared past the milling triceratops and out the nearly hundred yards to Charlie. To anyone that far away, he was barely a dot on the hillside. How then to tell Charlie what to do without alerting the triceratops?
The animals grunted just down the beach, all muscles and horns, snapping.
No… not good at all.
Get the notion of ‘paddle’ across, and Hayden was sure the rest would come easy. The ground was littered with branches, but the ones nearby were either too rotted or too small to get Charlie’s attention. A skinny sapling filled the bill, which he hacked down and carried to the drop.
He waved to Charlie and started trimming. The light tan of the shallows went to deep green roughly thirty yards from shore, and Charlie backwatered to a stop at a cautious fifty.
“Okay,” Charlie yelled, sounding peeved. “Now what?”
Hayden motioned to paddle with the dismembered sapling, pointed north, then went through the sequence again. It was a one-sided conversation, but Charlie eventually understood.
“This is the last time!” Charlie hollered, hauling back hard on his paddle. “You wanna go off exploring….”
And whether winded or finally tiring of the sport, the triply horned animals simply watched him go. Charlie noticed as well, and by steering toward shore soon had them once again pounding through the shallows. Hayden flipped the branch over the edge, watching as it arched the thirty or so feet to the ground. Good job, Bull. I knew you’d come through.
He couldn’t help but notice the Ladysaurs, standing not far off in the grove and enveloped by the vibrant colors of the forest. Branches bowed high up and along the drop, heavy with broranges; the sunlight streaming through the branches; the dinosaurs, like finely sculpte
d figurines, staring—Hayden cocked his head—not at him exactly. More like… past him. He followed their gaze to the trail where he’d entered the grove. He hadn’t paid much attention before, but the forest there was noticeably thicker, the trees packed more tightly with a whole different mix of plants covering the ground. There were big trees farther back, a sunny patch showing where a tree had recently—
A wheezy snort sounded, then the all-too-familiar chee chee of feet scuffling leaves. Hayden came around, tails bobbing as the Ladysaurs fled the forest. His heart started pounding, the dinosaurs all but gone when the burn in his chest reminded him to breathe.
Too darn skittish is what they were—Stupid dinosaurs—an army of crawlies starting along his spine when he looked to the thicket. The sun wasn’t helping, the splashes of brilliance filtering through the canopy serving only to accentuate the intertwined mélange of wood and leaves. Then what was that? A shadow? Hayden wriggled his shoulders, but the spiders weren’t going away. Bits of sunlight winked out… then on again. The Ladysaurs were right to get moving. There was something coming. Something big.
He hurried along the drop and threw himself behind the nearest tree offering protection, scrambling at last yards on his hands and knees. The ground was springy, the tree reaching half out over the drop. No mistakes here. One slip, and over he’d go.
The dinosaur strode from the thicket, the boxy head and gray-black coloration a near match to the one that had fought the tigress. Almost the same size too. He scrunched against the trunk, bits of overhang drizzling into the bushes below as the animal plodded along the trail. Through the trees he could see the scars on its face, then the missing arm. A fighter who’d fought one battle too many, the predator marched forward with an air of menace and revenge, its eyes sweeping the forest. Already the time for running had passed, and Hayden could but pray that the dinosaur would keep going.
The predator slowed, nostrils flared and sucking air when it stopped close enough he could smell it. The head shifted, sniffing, the twin claws on its tiny arm twitching when the animal stepped forward. Hayden slipped quietly around the trunk, the scaly tail swaying on the other side. The thing was just…
Holy fuck is he huge!
The head swung slowly side to side, scanning the trees. Another step and the pebbled mountain nosed to the ground, its purple tongue darting out.
Hayden somehow hadn’t noticed before, but there were lumpy piles littering the grove, most with a fuzzy layer of mold. The predator was investigating what had to be dinosaur dung, and he wondered distantly if the one-armed killer could tell what kinds of animals had left them. The dinosaur stepped forward, its nose but inches above the leaves. He could hear the air swooshing in and out of the scaly nostrils, the grungy lips at times peeling back, the daggers jutting along the jaws stained with the blood of countless victims.
He was so, so very grateful for Charlie’s camouflage.
Another step. More sniffing.
Hayden breathed quietly through his mouth. Out the corner of his eye he could see a long stretch of lake, Charlie, and the triceratops on the beach. What he wouldn’t give to be out there paddling.
The head started up, and the torso tilted, the thick tail dropping like a crossing gate. A gurgled hiss fluttered along the folds of the dinosaur’s throat. A resigned step, then another. The long tail swinging slowly side to side as the predator continued on into the grove.
Hayden kept watch as he inched trembling around the trunk. He looked into the tree—climbable sure, but nowhere near tall enough—then along the edge of the cliff to the thicket. He’d never make it without being spotted. Over the cliff? What a joke. Try it and he’d break his neck. No, he wasn’t going anywhere while the dinosaur was in sight. Whether minutes or hours, he’d just have to sit—
A snort snapped him around.
The head was up, shifting, sniffing the air. The tip of the tail started vibrating, the boxy head sweeping side to side, and always more left than right. Hayden watched in dread as the tyrannosaur pivoted slowly around. He cringed into the leaves.
A step.
God no.
Two quick sniffs and the hunter leaned forward.
Oh God. Oh God no….
Straw colored eyes gleamed in the sunlight. Reptilian eyes. Eyes that had finally located prey. Charlie’s remark came to mind—We’re all gonna die here—and Hayden knew now he was right.
The dinosaur lumbered forward, and with it the certainty of a bone-crushing end to his existence. He peered over the drop. It was thirty feet, straight down. Better a broken neck than….
There were roots, too, poking into space. He groped beneath the lip, frantic, the ground thumping beneath his chest when he located one as big around as his wrist, his fingers tightening on instinct when the overhang fell away….
The hillside started spinning, trees and tooth-filled jaws doing a pirouette to the sound of snapping branches when he jolted hard against the cliff face. Grit squirted past as the root carved the soil. He shook his head, blinking. At least you didn’t—
Jaws slammed shut mere inches from his arm. Spittle splattered his face.
He gasped at the stench, choking, twisting away, at the same time shifting his hands along the root and digging for toe holds. The big head lunged past the overhang, and again the sloppy crump. The roots were scratchy and the footing nearly nonexistent, yet already Hayden was beyond the monster’s reach. The tyrant roared, soil and limbs raining past as it probed the drop, a weakened section of overhang sent crashing down the hillside.
A stone was there to support his toe, scree drizzling along the slope when the predator snorted. Hayden pressed tight, listening, then carefully shifted his weight before working life back into his fingers. A search along the overhang found no sign of the predator. A goodness surely, whatever relief he thought he’d feel clouded by the knowledge that he still had the triceratops to contend with. Then too, he was running out of handles, what roots there were becoming thinner and more fragile. He checked nearby. And once there aren’t any?
Hayden took hold of an adjacent root, his forearms beginning to burn when he noticed the thumps. He knew what was coming, and also didn’t care. Crazy angry as the bastard was, the thing couldn’t possibly reach him, his concentration now focused solely on maintaining his grip. A few yards was all he needed. A little lower, and he’d jump.
Soil squirted in pulses down the hillside, the thump of footfalls ever louder when a section of the rooted overhang collapsed. A cloud of dirty gray enveloped the hillside, the dinosaur a monstrous lump as it tumbled along the rain-softened apron and into the bushes. The dust settled quickly, odd rocks and pebbles still trickling into the bushes when the dinosaur shook its enormous head, stunned and confused, and rolled snarling onto its feet.
Hayden clawed at the hillside, desperate to change direction. The monster charged, and he chinned himself higher, his heart hammering in his chest when the jaws slammed shut just shy of his feet.
It stood huffing at the base of the slope, the big tail swaying, a gurgle in its throat. Battered and bruised, its prey clinging to the hillside, the tyrannosaur clearly wasn’t going anywhere.
Sparks shot along his fingers and arms, the root slipping gradually through his fists. An inch, then two. Inches, like his life, slipping away. He could hear the throaty gurgle. Contented even, almost like a purr. Another inch slipped away. He snapped one hand above the other, gritting his teeth, and noticed the drumming. What could that—
A roar blistered his spine, and he flinched—“Holy!”—his fingers slipping further along the root…
His forearms were screaming, the fire past unbearable when next the predator roared. You will not let go! The roar faded to the drum of hoof beats... and now the sound of grunting. Past his arm Hayden could see the triceratops, like massed armor, galloping along the beach. The tyrannosaur backed through the scrub, growling, lashing its tail. A momentary loss of concentration was all it took. One slip, and Hayden was tumbling in
a flurry of dirt and pebbles, thumping down the slope… and like a rag doll, flopping to a stop. He clutched at his shoulder, wincing, his life oozing between his fingers when the predator looked his way. He scuttled against the incline, the hoof beats ever louder, the klaxon in his head blaring: Game Over! Game Over!
Bony arcs bobbed above the bushes, the predator roaring defiantly as the triceratops charged along the beach. The head came around, the hateful eyes staring, Hayden with his heart in his throat when the one-armed killer snarled and thudded away. The gang was there, seconds later, Hayden staring, numb and bewildered as the incensed triceratops rumbled past.
And for long moments Hayden sat twitching against the incline, too stunned and disbelieving to move.
“…the dumbest, craziest, most dangerous motherfuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen in my whole cock-sucking life!” Charlie hauled back on his paddle. “And all for some… some god damn fruits!” he went on, driving the canoe further into the lake. “You… you… you ever try anything like that again… you ever even think about doing something like that and, by God, I’ll beat you to a frickin’ pulp!” Charlie glared at Hayden, sprawled in the bottom of the boat. “You got that?”
Still shivering from the aftereffects of multitudinous jolts of adrenaline, Hayden could only nod. They were away from shore. The dinosaurs were gone. And the beach had again assumed its former sun shiny tranquility. Charlie put down his paddle and let the canoe coast. He was shaking too, with anger and fear.
And for long minutes, neither spoke.
“You got any idea how close you came to gettin’ eaten! And me havin’ to watch!”
Hayden closed his eyes and eventually got control of his mouth. “More than you know.” The whole of the bilge seemed filled with broranges. “We did get what we came for,” he said, forcing the tiniest of smiles.
“Uh huh… and a whole lot more than I fuckin’ bargained for.” Hayden unbuckled the fanny pack, then crawled up onto his seat. Charlie couldn’t help but notice the blood. “Took a heck of a spill there. You sure you’re okay?”
