It was late afternoon when the rex finished and wandered off down the valley.
“Thank God he went the other way,” John whispered. Cubby whispered, “Amen,” then urged his friend, “we’ve got to move, John.”
“No way. We’re safe here.”
“That carcass will attract scavengers all night long. They could find us too.”
John desperately wanted to stay where he was. He didn’t even know how to deal with bears, or lions, let alone dinosaurs. Now if Ripman was here, he might know what to do. After all, he knew about survival, he knew about animals, he knew about being elemental.
But Cubby persisted. “John, every dinosaur from ten miles around heard that rex make a meal out of that other one. They’re probably already thinking about the leftovers. Let’s get out of here before they get here.”
John was nearly persuaded when a noise outside distracted him. It grew louder, stopped, and then something started sniffing at the opening. John cringed and backed into Cubby, and they both fell back against the logs that made up the back wall. Suddenly a three toed claw appeared in the opening, each toe tipped with curved spikes, ripping away chunks of dirt, first on the left, then on the right. To John’s horror the opening was already doubled. The claws dug methodically several more times, then disappeared, and Cubby and John froze in fear. Cubby feverishly whispered a prayer. Then they both screamed as a giant triangular head jammed its way into the opening.
John was about to be eaten. The head in the opening strained forward, trying to get at Cubby and him. The gaping maw, blood red with a double row of jagged teeth, exhaled, filling the small enclosure with the smell of rotting flesh. Both boys were paralyzed with fear and indecision. Suddenly the head pulled out, and the paws returned to make the opening larger. John turned in panic and started pushing through the spaces between the logs, trying to find a way out. The biggest space would accommodate only his arms and his head. Try as he might, he couldn’t push his shoulders through the opening. If he was going to die he didn’t want to be eaten from the bottom up. He’d rather have his head go first and get it over with.
John pulled back in to look, but he saw no other way out except where the giant claws were diligently excavating. Cubby knelt on the ground and began fumbling with his bow and quiver, notching an arrow and preparing to use his bow … his weapon. Seeing him, John did likewise, pulling an arrow out of his quiver. There wasn’t enough room to stand, and he tried to figure out a good position to shoot from—assuming he could, because his hands were shaking terribly.
Cubby held the bow diagonally, because he couldn’t hold it vertically without hitting the roof.
With a wham and a roar the animal’s head was back. The roar stretched every nerve in John’s body to the breaking point. The head roared again, its warm sour-smelling breath in John’s face. It wriggled back and forth in the opening, shifting the logs. From a few feet away, Cubby let his arrow fly into the green scaly flesh above its eye. The dinosaur didn’t even flinch. It just kept wriggling and coming closer and closer. Shaking, John fumbled an arrow into place. Unable to stand, he put his feet on the bow and pushed until he felt the compound bow give into its ready position.
“Shoot it, John, shoot it!” Cubby shouted, fumbling with another arrow.
The dinosaur lunged again, and this time the logs shifted. John suddenly slipped, rocking onto his back. He shook his head to clear it and looked between his legs. Inches from his feet was the biggest eye he had ever seen. Screaming, he let go of the bowstring.
Twelve inches away, the razor sharp arrowhead penetrated the eye of the dinosaur, who screamed and reared. The roof gave way under the pressure and the back wall collapsed and rolled away. Cubby yelled a warning and pointed to an opening behind John, who scrambled out. Cubby followed him and they started running, the dinosaur screaming behind them.
In John’s blind panic he tripped over a root and sprawled flat. Cubby literally ran right over him. A short distance later Cubby fell and John passed. They continued running and tripping until they could go no farther.
John and Cubby found themselves in a patch of ferns, gasping for breath, and holding their aching sides. Slowly their breathing grew normal and they began listening for sounds. They’d made so much noise running and panting, they were afraid they’d attract flesh eaters.
They sat for more than an hour without speaking, each lost in his own thoughts. John was worrying about his family. He knew his sister was safe in Washington, D.C., but were his parents at the beach cabin or in Portland? John knew Cubby would keep looking until he found his parents, and John would keep following Cubby. John couldn’t go back now. He was closer to Portland than to where they had left the van. He still worried about the way Portland had looked, but what choice did he have? After a while Cubby lay down in the ferns. John soon followed, pushing his back up against Cubby, and fell asleep listening to Cubby’s prayers.
37. Sea Monster
In my visions I see the shadows of great beasts. Before them flee the shadows of man.
—Zorastrus, Prophet of Babylon
Off Naples, Florida
PostQuilt: Tuesday, 6:50 A.M. EST
Dawn broke, bringing them the clearest view yet of the monster’s head. It was perched on a neck rising fifteen feet out of the water and wasn’t much larger in diameter than the neck. The skin appeared to be the same color as the mound they were sitting on, a deep green. The neck and head undulated rhythmically. Ron looked behind where the mound curved down to the water. He knew there was a tail under there somewhere, and from the swirls behind them he could tell the tail was moving. Undoubtedly the animal was swimming and making slow steady progress.
Chris was still in the front sitting between Carmen’s legs with Carmen’s arms around his waist. Rosa was sitting behind Carmen, her left arm folded across her body and held in place by her right arm. Ron was in the back, staring around the others.
Ron heard Carmen’s whispered voice.
“Ron, back down. Let’s get off here.”
Ron started to move but then hesitated. They had spent the night on the animal, too afraid to move off, and with no place but the lizard-infested ocean to go to. The beast had shown no awareness of their presence during that time, let alone hostility. The few hundred pounds of weight they added to its bulk would be insignificant, like a bird riding the back of a rhino. Ron also guessed the animal was preoccupied with saving itself. The animal was heading straight toward the sun, and that meant they were traveling in the right direction. If it kept going in a straight line it would eventually reach the coast of Florida. Estimating its speed, Ron calculated that it would take maybe two days to get to the coast. Otherwise, Ron and his family had no chance of swimming to shore, and no boat or raft to take shelter in. He agreed they had to get off, but thought maybe they should wait for a good-size log or some other wreckage to come by before abandoning their ride.
“Carmen,” he whispered. “I don’t know … maybe we should stay. It’s going in the right direction.”
“Are you kidding?” she whispered back. “Do you know what this is? It’s a brontosaurus.”
Ron had been shocked too many times in the last few hours to be surprised now. All he could do was mutter numbly, “A brontosaurus? You mean a dinosaur brontosaurus?”
“It’s not called a brontosaurus anymore,” Rosa whispered. “It’s an apatosaurus.”
“Yeah,” Chris said in a normal voice, “it’s a potosaurus.” Carmen visibly cringed at the volume of Chris’s voice and hushed him. Ron found the strength of Chris’s voice not frightening, but reassuring, confirming that Chris was alert and strong.
“I don’t care what it is, I want off,” Carmen whispered harshly.
“Mom, they were herbivores, they only eat grass and leaves,” Rosa said.
Rosa said it as if she were an authority, and Carmen seemed to listen. Ron had to admit that it looked like a dinosaur, but he also knew such a thing couldn’t exist. Dinosaurs were lon
g extinct. But there shouldn’t have been an island at that longitude and latitude either. It seemed likely this animal and the other lizard things had come from the island, but he couldn’t make the jump to calling them dinosaurs. There had always been stories of large animals in the ocean, even in lochs. Of course this one didn’t seem to be a sea mammal. It showed no intention of diving below the surface, and had no blow hole. It might be a relative of dinosaurs, Ron rationalized, but dinosaurs were extinct. They could call it a brontosaurus or apatosaurus if they wanted to, but Ron suspected any big animal would be an apatosaurus to the children.
“Besides,” Rosa continued, “I don’t think I could take that water much longer.”
“Hey look,” Chris said, in an even louder voice. “There’s another one.”
Ron looked to their left to see a smaller shape in the water, a miniature version of the one they were sitting on. It was swimming just off the shoulder of the big one.
“It’s got a baby,” Rosa whispered.
“Yeah,” Chris said in a normal voice. Then after a shush from Carmen he continued softly, “It’s got a baby.”
Ron estimated the baby was bigger than a full-grown elephant. Its neck was proportionally much shorter than the mother’s, but even then it cleared the water by six feet. The baby didn’t seem to be having much trouble keeping up, but Ron suspected the mother was holding back considerably. It made him wonder about the bone structure and anatomy of these animals. They seemed to be using all their energy to move through the water and little or none to stay on top. If the bone structure was light enough, the fat content high enough, and there was enough lung capacity, they could float. Ron suspected that was the case, and it was another reason to stay onboard. They wouldn’t, find a better raft, or one easier to spot from the air.
“Carmen,” Ron whispered, “maybe we should stay here for a while. There might be more in the water, or those other things—at least until we find a log or something.”
Carmen looked around fearfully. Ron knew she was thinking of the lizards they had fought in their raft. After thoroughly scanning the surrounding ocean, Carmen whispered back, “All right, but only for a little while.”
Somehow staying on the monster had become the safe thing to do, although everyone except Chris was cautious enough to sit perfectly still until their bodies ached. When the pain finally forced them to move, Carmen made sure they moved one at a time, and very slowly. Ron found the sun on his bare back and the rhythm of the animal restful, and soon, like the rest of his family, fell asleep.
38. Friends
We often refer to civilization as a thin veneer, but the constant violence in our country suggests it might be better characterized as a net, with great gaping holes that people are constantly falling through. As the net fills with population growth, the net stretches, making the holes bigger and more people slip out of civilization’s control. God help us if the net should ever tear open.
—Dr. Charlene Hall, The Violent Society
New York City
PostQuilt: Tuesday, 7:30 A.M. EST
The sounds of Mrs. Weatherby in her kitchen brought Luis back to consciousness. He was feeling better. The headache was finally gone. The lump on his scalp was still there, but the swelling in his lip was down noticeably. He sniffed the aroma from the kitchen and realized with a start he had slept through the night. Mrs. Weatherby was fixing breakfast. Luis could pick out the smells of coffee and frying bacon; they reminded him of his family; Melinda must be out of her mind with worry; Luis knew he had to go and he wanted Mrs. Weatherby to come with him.
Luis sat up slowly. When he was sure he wasn’t going to faint he walked to the kitchen and leaned against the door frame. Mrs. Weatherby, wearing a red and white checked apron, was cooking a pan of eggs and bacon over a propane stove. When she saw him she flashed him a grandmother’s smile and motioned to the table.
“Sit down, Luis. You’re just in time. I’m afraid there’s no toast this morning. The toaster is out, you see. I do hope the electricity comes on again soon. I know, I’ll toast a piece of bread over the flames of the stove. That just might work you know.”
“No, Mrs. Weatherby. This is fine. More than I ever hoped for.”
“I’d be happy to try toasting the bread.”
“I’m fine, really.”
Luis sat down at the table and ate greedily. When he was about halfway through, Mrs. Weatherby clucked her tongue and began frying the last two eggs in the carton. He felt guilty. “Mrs. Weatherby, you’re feeding me the last of your eggs. There won’t be anymore, you know. At least not for a while. There’s no law out there. Take a look at my face if you don’t believe me. Let me take you to Melinda’s brother’s place. The kids are there. You could really help us out. You know, you watch the kids while Melinda and I look for a new place. The kids would love it. Especially Katrina. You know she loves you.”
“Katrina is a dear, Luis, and you give her a hug from me. But this is my home and I see no reason to leave it; I can do without a few eggs. As for food, I have everything I need to last me a month right here in this apartment, and when that runs out I’ve got lots of neighbors to borrow from. I’ve been through blackouts before, Luis, and they’re no problem if you’re prepared.”
“But, Mrs. Weatherby, there’s a dinosaur out there.”
“Many dinosaurs, Luis. It’s been a constant parade. Some of them I haven’t learned the names for yet, but I know I saw a polacanthus and a pachycephalosaurus and those awful deinonychus. They’re terrible killers! And of course there’s my iguanodon friend. A vegetarian, you know. He has a sweet tooth.”
She scooped the eggs onto Luis’s plate, then took apple juice from the refrigerator and filled a glass for Luis. “I don’t know why I keep the apple juice in the refrigerator. It isn’t working, of course. I guess it’s just habit.”
Luis sighed. “That big dinosaur, he doesn’t have to eat you, you know. Stepping on you would turn you into a pancake.”
“He’s really quite careful.” Then Mrs. Weatherby looked thoughtful. “Would you like some pancakes, Luis? I could whip them up real easy. I’ve got lots of syrup. I’ve got one of those mixes that doesn’t use any eggs. Of course—”
“No, please no. This is fine. I’m already full. I said that dinosaur will turn you into a pancake, I didn’t mean I wanted any. He’s not smart enough to be careful. He’s going to hurt you. He won’t mean it but it will happen.”
“He is so smart,” Mrs. Weatherby replied defensively. “You should see how quickly he learned that sugar trick. Now I’m teaching him to stay away from my garden. Why I think I could—”
Mrs. Weatherby was interrupted by the now familiar “aaaah” sound drifting in from the living room window. She immediately took two paper bags from the kitchen counter and walked through the door, calling back over her shoulder as she left, “Finish your eggs, Luis. I’ve got to see to the iguanodon’s sweet tooth or he’ll never leave us alone.”
When she walked out the apartment door, he realized she was going down to feed her dinosaur by hand. She was impossible. Luis had nearly lost his life trying to rescue her from something she didn’t want to be rescued from. He couldn’t drag her all the way back to Steve and Tanya’s apartment. He was going to have to leave her here, and if that dinosaur got her it wouldn’t be his fault. He had tried.
When he looked out the living room window, the dinosaur was there with Mrs. Weatherby. He was down on all fours getting seconds, his massive mouth wide open as little Mrs. Weatherby poured sugar inside. It was a strange and wonderful relationship, but Luis knew it couldn’t last. Mrs. Weatherby would have to leave eventually. The electricity wasn’t coming back easily this time, and even if it did it wouldn’t matter. The police would evacuate these buildings when the looting ended, and they would seal off the dinosaur meadow.
Luis finally conceded defeat. He had to leave. He had a family worrying about him and he should have been home long ago.
Mrs. Weatherb
y had finished feeding her dinosaur, who was walking off into the meadow chewing a mouthful of grass.
Luis called out the window to her. “Mrs. Weatherby, I’ve got to go to my family. Won’t you come with me?”
She smiled up at him. “Go take care of your babies, Luis. Stop worrying about an old woman. Please don’t worry about me. I haven’t been this happy in years.”
Luis nodded and waved good-bye. She might die, he thought, but she would die happy. Could anyone hope for more than a long life and to die happy? Then he stepped out the door.
The streets were worse than Luis remembered. He figured that earlier the pain in his head helped blank out his memory. The area near the dinosaur field was nearly a total loss. They hadn’t burned the buildings yet, but every window was broken, and anything of value had been hauled away. The leftovers from the looting filled the streets, which were haunted by the scavengers, who were mostly male. The families were long gone and the elderly were holed up like Mrs. Weatherby.
Luis stood in the doorway of his building studying the passersby—young and male, and a mixture of races. The whites had been moving out of Luis’s neighborhood for the last few years, but it wasn’t clear yet whether the neighborhood would go Latino or black. That was partly why the gang problems were worse here. The white gang called Zombies was losing control over their turf and becoming increasingly violent. The Zombies were on their way out, but they were taking some of the Diablos and Kimbos with them. Still, Luis couldn’t spot any gang colors among the crowd. But something else about the crowd bothered him. Why was the crowd still here? Why weren’t they where the pickings were better? What kept them here? The dinosaurs surely kept them penned in on one side, but what about the other sides? Luis wondered if the police weren’t slowly taking back the streets.
Luis started out cautiously. When he first heard the feint popping sound in the distance he instantly knew it was gunfire. The sounds came closer, more furious. He looked left and right, but the firing was coming down from the street, so he melted into a doorway and waited, peeking out occasionally. Men were running down the street toward him, and Luis recognized the red jackets of the Zombies. They slowed and then spread out, hiding behind cars and in doorways. A minute later they began firing down the street at something Luis couldn’t see. Then they began running toward him again. It was time for Luis to hide.
Footprints of Thunder Page 26
