The Jurassic Chronicles (Future Chronicles Book 15)

by Samuel Peralta

  “Fred, Mother. Call me Fred. I’m not a little boy anymore, and saying the word tinkle is what you say to a child.”

  Eloise turned back around and patted him on the shoulder, then started waddling away in her oversized flowery print dress. “Yes, you’re a man, twenty years old, and here we are to see the giant toy dinosaurs.”

  He knew it was no use saying anything more, so he sat down on the bench to wait, just like his mother told him to. Sometimes he just wanted to…well, he’d never do anything to hurt her, but it sure was tempting.

  Fred scratched the jagged scar on his cheek and thought back to the day his mother told him about the animatronic dinosaurs for the first time. He was six and playing with his little plastic Herd of Jurassic Thunder toys when his mother announced the news. At the time, little Freddie wasn’t in a good mood. He’d just discovered that his Herd of Jurassic Thunder came packed in the plastic bag with inaccuracies.

  “Mommy, these toys are defective.”

  Eloise set aside her latest issue of Soap Opera Digest. “What’s wrong, Freddie? Are they missing some legs or tails or something? I still have the receipt, and we can take them in for an exchange. You know how I always keep the receipts.”

  “Nothing’s broken, but not all of these dinosaurs are from the Jurassic Period.” Freddie held up a book on dinosaurs his mother gave him for his birthday. Dinosaur gifts were always very special to Freddie. “It has charts and timelines in it. That’s how I know.”

  Eloise chuckled and Freddie felt his face redden, unsure about the intention of her laugh. “It’s because of all those Jurassic movies, Freddie. The first one came out almost fifty years ago. Seems like anything to do with dinosaurs, no matter what kind, are all lumped in with Jurassic stuff.”

  “Period.”

  “What’s that?” his mother asked, looking at him with a perplexed look on her face.

  Freddie sighed quietly to himself. Even at age six he realized you needed lots of patience when it came to Eloise Wichman. But he still loved his mommy. “Jurassic Period. You know, a period of time in history.”

  Eloise hoisted herself out of her recliner. “Freddie, you’re the smartest little boy I know. Keep reading and you’ll go places. Anyway, I better check on dinner. Your father will be home soon.”

  At the mention of his father, Freddie tensed up. He didn’t much like the man. As soon as he got home from work he’d bark orders at Freddie’s mom and often complained about what she’d made for dinner. Then he’d come into the living room, where Freddie was usually playing, and kick off his shoes. Boy, did they ever stink. Sometimes after that he’d go straight to the basement, but more often than not he’d torment Freddie for a while. He’d ask Freddie what he’d been doing with himself all day, but no matter what he said, his father never liked the answer. Whether Freddie played with toys, watched movies, read a book, or discovered that he had a knack for calculus, Mr. Wichman wasn’t impressed. He’d tell Freddie he could do all those things by the age of three, and that by the time he was six, like Freddie was, he’d already started his own small business. Granted, it was just a lemonade stand, and his parents paid for all the supplies, but he was making money, and all Freddie seemed to do was influence Eloise to spend money so that he could get new books and toys.

  When his father first started badgering him like this, it hurt Freddie’s feelings. But now it didn’t bother him so much, because he decided the man wasn’t worth liking, and therefore could no longer hurt Freddie’s feelings.

  Freddie heard a shriek of excitement and it brought him out of the dark place he always entered when he thought about his father. Eloise came waltzing from the kitchen back into the living room.

  “Freddie, my dinosaur-loving son, guess what’s coming to the zoo? An animatronic dinosaur display. They move all sorts of ways, shaking their tails and all, and these new ones walk around so well you’d think they were real. Or at least that’s what it said in the advertisement I saw in the Community section of the Sunday paper. I couldn’t tell you if they’re Jurassic Period or Adam and Eve Period, but momma is going to take her little Freddie to see them.”

  Freddie jumped up from the floor and ran across the room, hugging Eloise Wichman as hard as he could. Perhaps what she lacked in brains she made up for in love, Freddie decided. Despite the fact that the Herd of Jurassic Thunder came littered with errors, this had to be one of the greatest days ever. Even the eventual disappointment of his father walking in the door couldn’t ruin his excitement, or so he hoped, as he walked back to his toy dinosaurs.

  “What a great day, my little Freddie. Momma’s gonna put on her South Pacific soundtrack to celebrate and go work on dinner.”

  A short time later the front door slammed closed and Freddie knew his father was home. He stayed quiet, hoping the man would go downstairs and keep his stinky shoes and feet way out of the living room.

  “What’s for dinner?” his father bellowed.

  The sink turned on, and Freddie couldn’t hear his mother’s answer as a chorus of singing spilled out from the old Detrola record player, but he knew the answer was meatloaf. Along with mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans. He could smell all of it and his mouth started watering.

  “You better have enough ketchup this time.”

  Great, his father was in one of those moods again.

  “I need you to move fifty dollars into my Tap and Pay account,” his mother said.

  Silence. Freddie heard the refrigerator door slam shut and the sound of a can of pop being opened.

  “Get me a glass and my bottle of rum.”

  “Don’t you think you should wait for dinner before drinking?” Eloise asked.

  Why did she have to say it? He’d only get angrier now, and Freddie didn’t need him to be angry, not on such a good day.

  “What do you need fifty dollars for? Nothing. That’s what I say. Nothing.”

  “Little Freddie and I are going to the zoo to see these electronic lifelike beasts of the past. You know, dinosaur creatures. Your son loves them so much and it would be educational.” Good old Mom, thought Freddie. Nothing ever seemed to phase her.

  “Come on, Eloise, where’s my bottle?”

  There was a long pause, and Freddie felt his little heart ticking faster than ever before.

  “You finished it last night. Don’t you even remember?”

  “Then you picked me up a new bottle, didn’t you?”

  Again, nothing but silence for a long ten seconds. Then his mother said, so soft and gentle he almost missed it, “You drink too much. We have a young child in the house, and you don’t set a good example for little Freddie.”

  There was a sharp scraping noise, like a chair being pushed across the floor, then an audible slap of flesh on flesh startled Freddie, causing his eyes to blink. Soon he could hear his mother crying, but she wasn’t loud, probably for his sake.

  “I’m going down to my room,” his father shouted. “Call me when dinner’s ready.”

  A rattling crash startled Freddie and he covered his head before realizing his father must have thrown the can of pop into the sink, since he didn’t have any rum.

  I hate my father, he thought. Hate him hate him hate him. Tears rolled down his cheeks and splashed onto his Triceratops. And it had been such a good day. His mother loved him so much, but his father was just a big snotty ball of hate. He looked down at his Herd of Jurassic Thunder toys. If only they were real dinosaurs, Freddie thought. They would eat him or stomp on him. What I wouldn’t give for them to kill my father.

  The basement door slammed shut and Freddie looked up towards the kitchen, startled once more. He wanted to do something for his mother, but he was terrified of his father and felt so helpless. He reached down to pick up his tear-soaked toy and was surprised to see that it was gone. Along with his Stegosaurus and Tyrannosaurus rex. He started wondering where they could be when he heard a yell from his father and several loud crashes. Then his mother shrieked and footsteps pounded dow
n the hall, towards the basement door. Then it hit Freddie like a ton of bricks. He was only six, and he really didn’t know how they did it, or how he did it, but his missing trio of Jurassic Thunder toys were suddenly on the basement stairs; they’d popped in just underneath the descending foot of the mean Mr. Wichman.

  Freddie started panicking, not only because now he could actually see the toys there, in his mind, but because if his mother found the toys there, and if his father had bad injuries, she wouldn’t love him anymore.

  “Come back, come back, come back,” he whispered. And just as he heard his mother open the basement door, his Triceratops, Stegosaurus, and Tyrannosaurus rex rejoined the rest of the Herd of Jurassic Thunder. Then Eloise screamed, long and loud, and Freddie’s sight traveled into the kitchen and out to the hallway and down to the basement, even as he was sprawled out on the living room floor, and he saw his father at the bottom of the stairs, twisted the way a man shouldn’t be. There wasn’t much blood, but his eyes were open and glazed over, and Freddie knew things would get better now. Much better.

  The memories brought a smile to Fred’s face, and he felt sure today would be just as good as the day his father died.

  “Why, if it isn’t little Freddie Wichman.”

  He recognized the voice immediately. Cooper Rojas, a kid who constantly picked on Fred from junior high until graduation. Regardless, Fred looked up and greeted Cooper with the smile that hadn’t yet left his face.

  “Nasty scar, Wichman. Come to see the dinos? I remember how much you loved them back in middle school.” The crowd around Cooper started laughing, and Fred scanned their faces. The same crowd of punks from high school, and some of the girls who made sure to never talk to him.

  “Yeah, I’m here to see the dinos. What about you, Cooper? Dropping by to visit your relatives in the weasel cage?”

  Cooper had a short fuse and started walking towards Fred, who remained sitting comfortably on the bench.

  “Why, it’s that cute Cooper Rojas, if I’m not mistaken,” Eloise Wichman said as she walked towards them. “You always were such a nice boy. That’s what I always tell my Freddie. How’s your mother?”

  Cooper sputtered and Fred wanted to laugh. “Just fine, Mrs. Wichman. You should call her sometime and get together. You two can compare notes about what your boys have been doing since graduation.”

  Fred saw his mother’s face light up and knew she would ask him. Maybe he should just make them all go away. But that would be too easy. He needed to come up with something good. Something worthy of his craft.

  “This fall I’ll be starting my junior year at Yale. Pre-law, of course,” Cooper said. “So what’ve you been doing with yourself these past couple years, Freddie? Didn’t you always say you’d be famous someday? An artist or something like that?”

  “Oh my goodness, my Freddie,” Eloise answered for him. “That’s all he does, practice, practice, practice. He paints and does sculpturing. He’s really good, and I truly believe he will be famous someday.”

  Cooper gave Eloise a winning smile and Fred wanted to wipe it off his face. Permanently. Patience, though. That’s what he needed now. Plenty of patience so that he’d have time to come up with something improbable, something beautiful, something artistic.

  “It’s a beautiful day and we’re going to go visit the animals now,” Cooper said. “Nice seeing you, Mrs. Wichman, Freddie.” He turned back toward his friends and Fred could hear them trying not to laugh too loudly.

  “What a nice boy he is, Freddie. You should make sure to stay in touch with a boy like that.”

  Fred sighed. How could his mother be so blind? But she was a sheep, just like all the rest of them. Yet she was his mother and loved him, so he had to keep her safe today. Because practice was over. It was time for Fred to start being an artist.

  * * *

  The animatronic dinosaurs were spread throughout the zoo. Fred and his mother didn’t bother getting a map when they paid their entrance fee, instead choosing to walk counterclockwise in a big circle of the exterior, then doing a smaller circle, like a corkscrew, until they’d seen everything.

  Eloise kept raving about all the animals they stopped and looked at, and Fred felt like his brain might explode. But while Eloise went on and on about rhinos and prairie dogs and the Stegosaurus that she swore looked completely alive, he was starting to formulate a plan of revenge. He needed to come up with something extraordinary to pay Cooper back for all the times he’d tortured Fred in school.

  He knew he had the power to hurt Rojas from the moment the punk started picking on him ten years ago, but Fred kept his special abilities a secret. After his father died, it didn’t take little Freddie long to come to the realization that he was a Psi-Tal. And people with psionic talents weren’t trusted. So he decided to wait. And practice. Alone in his bedroom, Fred learned to make objects float to the ceiling, disappear, and then reappear in different places. He could mentally rip objects in half, then make them whole again. This one took a bit longer to master, yet his determination didn’t let him down. And though using his powers often brought on terrible headaches, and sometimes body aches, they eventually subsided.

  Fred was good, and he knew it. Really good. But he didn’t want the world to know until he was great. So he painted and sculpted, using just his mind. If Eloise came nosing around—which wasn’t often because Fred told her that he needed to be left alone to do his art—he’d create an illusion that he was actually painting or sculpting. And that was one of his favorite abilities, to create illusions.

  After graduating from high school, he wanted a couple of years to further hone his skills before he let the world in on the type of artist he truly desired to be. And his discipline paid off. Just a couple weeks ago he’d gone out and randomly picked a victim, proving to himself that he could pretty much do anything he set his mind to. But the outing wasn’t a total success and Fred ended up getting a pretty bad cut on his cheek. He could have healed the skin completely, but decided he needed to keep it as a reminder that if he wasn’t at the top of his game, bad things could happen.

  Of course, good old Eloise flipped out when he walked into the kitchen that morning with the jagged cut on his face. He could have psi-shielded it from her. From everyone. Yet he was sort of proud of what he’d accomplished the night before, mastering so many of his skills against a random victim who’d possibly never recover all his mental faculties. All it took was a moment of recklessness and the guy sliced Fred’s face. He told his mother that he got a sudden hunger in the middle of the night for some Hot Pockets, and as he headed towards the newly opened convenient mart, he tripped over an empty beer bottle and stumbled into a fence with a piece of metal sticking out.

  “We’ll sue the fence company or the land owners or whatever it takes, Freddie.” Eloise picked up her cell phone and started waving it in the air. “Who should I call first?” Eventually he calmed her down and told her it was no big deal, that artists like him looked upon these happenings as providential, which help them become more sensitive.

  But enough reflecting. A smile crept across Fred’s face. Considering their surroundings, his revenge would be apropos.

  * * *

  About halfway around the perimeter, they came across Rojas and his friends again. Eloise was going on and on about the bears they’d just seen and Fred couldn’t have gotten a word in even if he’d wanted to.

  “Oh, there’s that sweet Cooper Rojas again,” she said, loud enough for everyone within twenty feet to hear.

  “Hello once more, Mrs. Wichman.” He winked at his friends—Fred didn’t miss it, and he was sure his mother had to have seen it also—then put both of his thumbs up, arms outstretched towards Fred. “How about those Jurassic marvels, Freddie, old boy? I bet you’re enjoying the heck out of them, and you too, Mrs. Wichman.”

  Cooper’s friends had stupid grins across their faces, and Fred wanted to melt their brains on the spot. Only that would be too easy. Remember the plan, he told h
imself. It’s sound. It’s solid. It’s art.

  “I can only say, Cooper, that they are probably more realistic looking than…well…even you.”

  A couple of Rojas’ pals laughed, and he gave them an angry glare.

  “Take a look,” Fred said, pointing towards a Tyrannosaurus rex in a penned area behind Cooper. “Look at the way it walks around in there, eyes full of intelligence, as if it’s scrutinizing us.”

  They all turned and looked. The animatronic creature, though not as tall as a real adult T. rex would have stood, still appeared to be a good ten feet tall. It walked up to the front of the pen then stopped, lowered its head, and seemed to be staring towards Cooper and his pals.

  “That’s freaky, man,” one of them said. Fred couldn’t recall his name and frankly didn’t care to remember.

  The nostrils of the T. rex started flaring, as if it were sniffing them.

  “Freddie,” Eloise said, “it looks so real that I’m feeling a little scared here. Maybe we should say our goodbyes to your old friend and move on to the next animals.”

  “Good idea,” said one of the girls in Cooper’s group.

  They all started turning away when a loud noise behind them caused everyone to jump a bit, then somebody screamed.

  “It broke the fence, it’s loose!” screamed another girl standing next to Cooper.

  “No need to worry,” Cooper assured her, “these things run on sophisticated software designs. They’re just a form of controlled robots.”

  But Fred could see a drop of sweat trickling down Cooper’s face, and the Yale student—pre-law and smart as a whip, always championing logic above everything, Fred recalled—started moving backwards, his eyes never leaving the T. rex.

  The mechanical dinosaur appeared to be walking effortlessly towards Cooper, but making this happen was harder than Fred imagined it would be. The programming behind the animatronics proved to be quite sophisticated. And though he’d been practicing his skills on both organic and inorganic materials for years, this T. rex fought hard to maintain the parameters coded into it.