K-Rex: A Prehistoric Thriller

by L. Z. Hunter

  Claire emerged from the forest first. “Louis?”

  “It’s okay. I’m okay,” he said. Everything had happened so fast. He wasn’t sure he could recall all of the events. He was confident his dreams would be plagued. Nightmares were going to prevent him from getting a solid sleep ever again.

  “I tried to help you. I tried to kill it,” she said. She was trembling. Her lower lip quivered. Claire kept one arm behind her back. Powell saw the young girls behind her. They clung to Claire’s shirt and peered around her back.

  He nodded. “Thank you. You did. You helped me,” he said. He wanted to spend some time reassuring her and make sure she was okay. He wished there was time, but there wasn’t. “Get the others. We need to keep moving.”

  The rain came down steadier than before. It fell in large drops, as if the rain had pooled on the canopy and was now draining down from the heavy leaves. The rainwater felt somewhat refreshing. It took some of the bite out of the humidity, cleaned some of the dirt and sweat and stink off his body. That was the only silver lining Powell could find at the moment. He grabbed it and hung onto it, because at least it was something.

  The young men stepped onto the path, heads hung low. Powell thought he could imagine the thoughts passing through their minds. They had taken off, practically dove into the bushes when everything went down. They looked ashamed, as if they felt guilty.

  He wished they didn’t feel that way. They were not cowards. This was not a normal situation. He clapped Akia on the back, gave him a quick rub. He wished he knew French. He desperately wanted to communicate with each of them. All he could do was point ahead and motion with his hand that he wanted them to begin moving again.

  Akia understood. He readied his machete. Ruh stood by his side.

  Powell checked the ammunition in his gun. Best he could tell he had two bullets left. Two. Claire had fired one shot. They were very low on ammo. He felt like a thief, but his actions couldn’t be helped.

  Leaning over Stacy’s shredded corpse, Powell retrieved her rifle. He pulled off her vest. Affixed to it were pockets with clips of extra ammo and two grenades. Her body was ripe. He saw chunks of missing flesh and tissue. He put on the vest. She had a handgun in a holster on her hip. He closed his eyes and cringed as he unfastened the belt and slid it off her waist. He clipped it on around his, doing his best to ignore the warm, wet blood that now coated his palms and fingers.

  At least they were more heavily armed than before.

  The seven of them cut a way through the forest, staying on the path. Powell only hoped they were close to a village. The daylight was being spent quickly. Too much time was passing by, and it felt like they’d barely made it anywhere. He ignored the thought in his brain that insisted they had just been going around and round in circles. He knew they weren’t. Fear that bad luck followed him everywhere kept him from believing it though.

  The natives knew where they were going. Stacy had been right about that. This was their home. The trails were in their backyards. If they were uselessly going in circles, Akia, or Ruh, or Kacancu would know.

  In fact Akia bounced up and down, waving them on. “Par ici! Par ici!”

  Claire raised an eyebrow.

  “I think he wants us to follow him,” Powell said. He saw no reason why they shouldn’t. He said, “Par ici, par ici!”

  Akia nodded, smiling. It was the first time Powell could recall seeing the young man smile. He stepped off the path, cutting a way deeper into the forest. Claire reached out and touched Powell’s arm.

  “Where is he taking us?” Claire asked. “This can’t be a good idea?”

  Powell whispered. “Let’s just follow him. They know these woods. We don’t. We’re alone now. Us. You. Me. We need to trust these guys to help us.”

  They stepped over raised roots and around mossy growths. No telling what might be hiding underneath. Powell was as careful as he could be to step on only ground he could see. His phobias increased the deeper they journeyed away from the path. Why he’d felt even moderately safe on some worn trail was ridiculous. But he did. And now that they were off it, everything had changed. It suddenly seemed like the rain forest felt the exact same way. The more they walked, the more alive everything around them became. Powell heard more animal calls than he could ever identify. The chatter came from above them and from all four sides. It might not be vicious velociraptors stalking them at that very moment, but they were being watched.

  That was Powell’s last thought before he heard it.

  It was the reverberating roar of a raptor, or two. The sound was worse than nails scratching down a chalkboard. It was cliché, but the best Powell could come up with. A shiver raced from the top of his head down his spine. His legs went weak and his hand shook. He had the rifle now, which should have provided some solace, or consolation. He had no idea what to do with the rifle though. He’d gotten a fast lesson on how to use the handgun.

  “Run!” Powell shouted. It was not needed. They’d all heard the raptor behind them.

  He turned the assault rifle over in his hands. The trigger. He’d seen Marksman remove the curved, rectangular cartridge in front of the trigger. He almost dropped the rifle as he leapt over raised roots. He managed to hold onto the rifle and keep his balance.

  His finger found a release switch. He pulled out the cartridge. There were bullets inside. He had no idea how many. He shoved the clip back into the slot. It locked in place.

  He realized he could hear the raptors closing in behind him.

  Their feet crushed branches under foot. It sounded like they were ramming their heads into trees, knocking things over. There was no way he was looking back. If he did he’d trip, fall, and get devoured. There were far too many obstacles and hurdles. Every running step he took demanded his attention.

  The others were not having much more success. Claire was concentrating on the young girls. She kept them ahead of her. If anything, they were better at running through the rainforest than Claire was. The young men were far, far ahead. They ran like the wind. The leapt over bushes, ducked under branches, and easily swerved around trees.

  Powell needed some kind of plan. The raptors would overtake him any moment. They were so close he thought he could feel their breath on the back of his neck. If he cut left, or right and averted an attack, all he would do is make Claire and the young girls more susceptible.

  He aimed the rifle into the air. He let his finger squeeze the trigger. Bullets shot toward the top of the canopy. He had to take his finger off the trigger fast, or risk using all of the ammunition. This rifle was not a semi-automatic, but an actual machine gun.

  He knew what he had to do. If he thought too much about it, he’d chicken out.

  Instead of dwelling, he acted. Without slowing down, he threw himself forward. Tucking in his head, he somersaulted around. He wound up sitting on one leg, with the other foot planted on the ground. He didn’t have time to aim. He squeezed the trigger and fired.

  Although he knew the raptor had been on his heels, he didn’t realize just how close he had been to getting chomped on.

  The rounds tore into the beast’s flesh. Caught off guard, the raptor ran right through Powell. The weight of its chest barrelled Powell over. He was splayed out on his back. The raptor stepped onto his gut. A talon slashed through his shirt and into his skin. The assault rifle was knocked out of his hands.

  Powell slapped a hand over his stomach. He was bleeding, and the laceration burned. A heat ran through the inside of his body. He winced as he rolled onto his side. His arm stretched out for the rifle.

  The raptor stopped chasing the others. It had its target now. Powell was the bleeding meat attracting its attention.

  Instead of looking to see where the rifle was exactly, he kept looking at the turned around raptor. It seemed to study him. It snorted out of both nostrils.

  Powell knew more than one raptor had been chasing them. He wondered where the others had gone. Claire and everyone else were still in danger
.

  He lunged for the weapon, grunting. It felt like his guts were spilling out of the gash in his belly. They weren’t. He didn’t even think the stab from the talon was that deep. It just hurt like a motherfucker.

  Staying on his stomach, Powell gripped the rifle as best he could, and took aim just as the raptor charged forward. It opened its mouth wide. Thick gooey saliva dripped off the top row of teeth and spilled over the lower lip. With everything there was to eat in the Congo, Powell couldn’t help wondering why this particular prehistoric monster looked so damned hungry.

  The machine gun let out a cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha of rapid firing. Powell thought most of the bullets missed the raptor. He saw large green leaves shredded and tree bark fly as the tree splintered in long shards. Time moved fast. Not slow. Everything he wanted to do needed to happen all at once. He kept both eyes open and focused on the target as best he could. The raptor was almost on him.

  He aimed for the mouth. It was open. It looked like the best target. It seemed like the bullets did little to the thick lizard-like skin. He kept the bursts of gunfire short. He was aware of limited ammo. He knew he’d grabbed additional cartridges off Stacy, but the last thing he wanted to do right now was reload. Holy shit, he couldn’t imagine having to do that for the first time with a dinosaur about to pounce on him. He wasn’t trained for this kind of shit.

  A bullet struck the velociraptor under the jaw. It plunged through the tongue and slammed into the roof of the mouth. That didn’t drop the beast, but it stopped him. The raptor shook its head, as if a child stung by a wasp. The raptor danced around.

  Powell was watching, instead of reacting. It took him a moment. If this raptor could shake off a gunshot through the mouth, he was in trouble. He got to a knee, ignoring the pain in his stomach, and fired at the injured raptor.

  The rounds hit home. Chunks of raptor flesh were carved off its body. It bled from the new holes. The damned thing wouldn’t fall, though. It looked toward the sky and roared. Countless bullet holes ripped through its body, and all Powell had done was manage to piss it off.

  The raptor regained a sense of composure. It lowered its snout and locked its eyes on its prey.

  Powell squeezed the trigger. Bullets sailed out of the barrel, flame and smoke left behind, and slammed into the raptor. The dinosaur took a step back, and then another, and a third before it fell to the side. Its hole-pierced tongue dangled out of the side of its mouth. The short arms twitched, the talons raked at nothing but air.

  The trigger was still squeezed.

  The rifle was still aimed at the raptor.

  The bullet supply had run out at some point.

  Eventually Powell relaxed his grip. He ejected the spent cartridge and locked in its place a new one. He found it difficult to stand. He stayed on one knee for a moment and listened to the forest. If the others were still being chased, he’d have to find them.

  Looking behind him, Powell half expected to see more raptors running toward him.

  There weren’t any.

  They had to be around though. There had to be more.

  Chapter 18

  Louis Powell got to his feet slowly, a hand draped over his wound. He was not worried about bleeding out. The fear of an infection is what nearly paralysed him. He trudged forward, past the fallen raptor. After a little bit, he began jogging. He heard his breathing inside his head, behind his ears. Huffing and puffing as he picked up speed.

  There was no path to follow. The best he could do is head toward where he’d last seen anyone.

  “Louis!”

  Powell stopped and looked around.

  “Up here!”

  Claire and the girls were in a tree. Powell sighed. At least they were safe. Climbing a tree made sense. The only problem was it didn’t get you anywhere except stuck. He waved them down and used the rifle strap to keep the gun slung over his shoulder as he helped Mangeni and Nafula out of the tree, and then Claire.

  “I thought…” Claire didn’t finish her sentence. There was no need. Powell knew what she was going to say.

  “It’s okay. We’re okay,” he said. He almost added, for now, but didn’t. She knew that much to be true. “Where are the boys?”

  “They kept running. They didn’t look back once,” Claire said. There was an accusatory tone to her voice. Powell let it slide. He still wasn’t upset with the young men for hiding, or for running.

  “I’m kind of turned around out here. Maybe leaving the path wasn’t such a good idea,” Powell said.

  “You’re hurt?”

  “I’m okay. It’s nothing,” Powell said.

  Nafula tugged on Claire’s shirt, and then pointed.

  Powell sighed. He no longer felt confident following native directions. They needed to reach the river. They needed to get out of the jungle. It was no different now than it had been earlier. They knew the forest. Following their lead still made more sense. He knelt down in front of the girl. “Your home is that way?”

  She just looked at him.

  He stood up. “We might as well see where they take us.”

  At some point on their trek, the rain stopped. Powell realized it, but couldn’t recall exactly when the rain had stopped. He almost missed it. The heat and humidity crept back in. He would never complain about New York weather again.

  They came to a clearing. Trees had been removed. Through the thinning of trunks, Powell saw long rectangular structures. He almost cried. They’d made it to a village.

  Nafula took Claire’s hand and said something to Mangeni, and then Mangeni took Powell’s hand.

  They left the thicket of the forest and entered the village. People stopped what they were doing and stared.

  A woman shouted and ran at them. She cried as she dropped to her knees. Mangeni let go of Powell’s hand and ran to her mother. The two embraced.

  Ruh came out of a building. He made eye contact with Powell, and then turned around and went back inside.

  Nafula smiled and waved hello to people. She spoke quickly, perhaps telling them about the last two days.

  Mangeni reached for Powell’s hand again, and then pulled on his arm as they followed behind Claire and Nafula.

  The natives wore what looked like American clothing. They were in slacks and jeans, dress shirts and t-shirts. They wore boots or running shoes. They turned spits with cooking meat over open flames and ground grains by hand in large ceramic bowls. All eyes were on Powell and Claire, though.

  Ruh came back out of the building with an older man behind him. Ruh pointed at them and the young girls brought Powell and Claire over.

  “You have braved the K-Rex to save our family,” the older man said. The English was broken, but clear enough for Powell to understand.

  Powell assumed the older man was some kind of tribal leader. He really had no idea. Best he could do was try and call on his memory from watching National Geographic as a kid. Either way he supposed it didn’t matter. The man spoke English, and hopefully he wanted to help them.

  “We are trying to get to the river,” Powell said.

  The older man had smooth skin. It was difficult to judge his age. He wore a red shirt tucked into khaki-colored slacks, held up with a black leather belt. His feet were bare, and long toenails scratched at the muddy earth. “You are safe in the village.”

  “Thank you,” Powell said. “Thank you. We appreciate that. We do. But we need to make it to the river, east of here. I think it is east of here.”

  “The river. Yes. But it is getting late. You will never make it there in time. It is a long ways away. Stay here tonight. Eat with us. Sleep in a bed. In the morning, I will give you directions to the river,” the older man said.

  “Will someone be able to guide us? You know, take us to the river?” Powell said. He noticed the other villagers were closing in on them. It probably wasn’t every day they saw a man and woman from America. He supposed it wasn’t often that the natives saw white people.

  Smaller children ran in circles,
giggling and singing. Whenever Powell looked at one of them, they would laugh uncontrollably and cover their mouth with their hands.

  The old man shook his head. “Ah, no.”

  Powell smiled, cocking his head to one side, a little confused. “No?” This time Powell spoke a little slower, and just a little louder. “Maybe you don’t understand. We need someone to lead the way. We will follow them. Or else we might not make it to the river.”

  “No. It is you that does not understand. In the morning, I will give you very clear directions. If you cannot follow them, then you do not deserve to find the river. I am not letting any of my people out of the village for a while. The K-Rex are very,” he paused, his hand rolled around at the wrist as if searching for the right word, and then said, “agitated. Come. Let’s have something to eat.”

  # # #

  Powell and Claire shared a bed. There was nothing romantic about it. Mangeni and her younger sister slept in the bed next to them. There were no walls inside the house. Blankets on string strung from one wall to the next are what separated the rooms. Mangeni’s father snored. It sounded like a train, breaking down. The man’s nose rumbled and roared, and then whined and whistled.

  “Do you think Marksman found Ian?” Claire said.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you think they already made it to the river?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Would they leave without us?” she said.

  “I’m not sure. I don’t know.”

  “I mean if they reached the river first, they might assume we died, that the dinosaurs ate us or something. How long are they supposed to wait for us? It’s not like they’re just going to stand around hoping we show up. They probably don’t care one way or the other if we show up. You saw them? You saw how you practically had to twist John’s arm off to get him to go back and look for Ian. And Ian was—is, Ian is —his friend.”