Footprints of Thunder

by James F. David

  He glared at Nick, leaving uncomfortable silence in the room. Finally, Dr. Gogh answered in a monotone. “When the missile nears its termination point, and the terrain ceases to match the digitized map, the missile can exercise an option to use the last confirmed position to estimate distance and direction to target.”

  Many of those at the table began murmuring, but Nick wanted to make sure everyone knew full well what Gogh’s missiles would do.

  “In other words, Dr. Gogh, if the missiles get lost, they will guess.”

  This time everyone murmured.

  47. Death For Dinner

  Our decoys were bringing the flock down and we were ready to fire, when there was a flash. Suddenly, we were pelted by roasted ducks—burned, feathers and all.

  —Reuben Black, Winston, Maine, 1972

  Warm Springs Indian Reservation, Oregon

  PostQuilt: Tuesday, 2:25 P.M. PST

  The sounds of the feeding were horrifying, but the thought of who was being eaten was worse. Dr. Piltcher sat in a crumpled heap, broken by the thought of the fate of his friend. Petra kept her arm around his shoulder while he stared at his hands in his lap. Her words were no comfort to him, but Petra” continued speaking softly, as if to soothe herself. Colter stood nearby, holding his spear like a talisman, but soon he returned to the others and squatted.

  “That’s not Dr. Coombs. I mean what we’re listening to.”

  Dr. Piltcher continued to stare at his hands, but Petra looked up.

  “What? How would you know?”

  “Well… there’s just too much eating going on. Don’t take this wrong … but if that was Dr. Coombs he would have been gone a long time ago. Know what I mean?”

  Petra was sickened by the logic, but it made sense. The dinosaur that terrorized them was so big, Dr. Coombs would have provided just a snack, and the gruesome sounds ahead indicated several feeding dinosaurs. Dr. Piltcher remained oblivious to Colter’s suggestion until Petra took his hands in hers. He looked up then, his eyes puffy and red. Petra was going to speak but Colter cut her off.

  “Doc, Dr. Coombs would be an appetizer, and whatever’s up there is eating a six-course dinner.”

  That brought Dr. Piltcher to his feet, his cheeks reddening, but he turned to Petra, not Colter. When he spoke his voice trembled.

  “Monoclonius was a herbivore. It wouldn’t eat my friend, it would only kill him.” Dr. Piltcher paused to control his grief. When he spoke again it was with anger. “If you want my opinion, somewhere in there,” he said, pointing toward the noises, “is a pack of small scavengers making a meal of my best friend.”

  “Uh-uh.” Colter argued. “Whatever is up there is big, and they’re having a feast, not a snack. Let me make it plain for you. If that was Dr. Coombs, those mono-monsters would be picking their teeth with his bones by now.”

  Petra watched as Dr. Piltcher’s face flushed again. This time he turned to face Colter, staring him in the eye. When he found his voice it came in a near shout.

  “What do you know, Colter? In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve shown an interest in only one thing.” He turned and pointed at Petra, opened his mouth to speak, but then turned back to Colter. “Colter, you are what you are, an ignorant young man who’s biggest accomplishment will be seducing a young woman I admire … and love. Why she chose you … chose to carry you, I’ll never know. But I’m telling you, George … Dr. Coombs, is dead.”

  Colter flushed this time, but when he spoke it was in a whisper.

  “He may be, Dr. Piltcher. I never said he wasn’t dead. I’m just telling you what they’re eating up there isn’t him.” Colter paused, collecting his thoughts. He wasn’t angry, but he was hurt. “As for being ignorant, I guess I am when I’m back in the city. Sitting around discussing all that crap you guys think is so important, I probably looked pretty dumb. I admit it, I wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for Petra. But you tell me, Dr. Piltcher, who’s the ignorant one out here? Who wouldn’t let me go get a gun? And who is whispering and who was shouting when there’s a pack of dinosaurs about a hundred yards away?”

  Dr. Piltcher stared back defiantly, but had no answer. In the city his vast storehouse of the arcane had given him cult status and a circle of followers who marveled at his knowledge and wisdom. But here in this strange world, book learning meant nothing. It didn’t matter whether it was monoclonius or triceratops that had impaled and carried off his friend. What mattered was having the knowledge to keep it from happening again. If Colter had his way they would be walking through the brush with rifles and George would still be alive. Instead George was dead, and their only weapon fashioned by the one he had called ignorant. As if to confirm it, Petra turned and spoke to Colter.

  “Is there any chance Dr. Coombs is still alive?”

  “Slim. If we want to know, we need to see what’s going on up ahead. Why don’t you wait here while I scout it out.”

  Petra looked at Dr. Piltcher and back to Colter, and then shook her head.

  “I think we better stick together. But as soon as we know for sure one way or another, let’s get out of here.”

  Colter shrugged and led off, resuming his slow, stealthy approach. The sounds grew louder and more terrible. The gurgling and growling repelled them, and they had to force themselves forward against their natural inclination to run. Suddenly, Colter bolted several feet and then knelt behind a dense bush. He stared straight ahead for a minute and then signaled to the others. They quietly crept up behind him, but the sounds of the feeding were so loud now that they could have driven a car up and not been heard.

  When they were all together Colter reached out and gently pushed a limb aside, revealing the clearing where they found the egg. On the far side of the mound was the dinosaur who had attacked the RV and carried off Dr. Coombs. She had returned to her nest, and then finished bleeding to death. Her lifeless form was lying on its side and its body was nothing but shredded, bloody meat. Half a dozen bipedal dinosaurs were tearing off huge hunks of flesh, or gnawing on ribs torn from the carcass. The biggest ones were fifteen or twenty feet high. Smaller bipeds, no more than two or three feet high, circled around the outside, darting in to grab dropped pieces of flesh, or bits of bone. The larger carnivores snapped and snarled at the little ones, but were too slow to stop them. There was more than enough meat anyway.

  Something moved through the brush near them and they froze in fear. One of the smaller dinosaurs darted through, then ran into the clearing and began circling the dinner party, looking for a chance to snag a helping. They sighed with relief when it passed and then backed away slowly until they felt safe enough to talk softly. Petra spoke first.

  “I didn’t see Dr. Coombs’s body there. Maybe he got off somehow.”

  “If he did,” Colter suggested, “he’d be back along that blood trail. It may be risky to search there. We don’t know if any more of these things are following it to supper.”

  Dr. Piltcher and Petra understood the implications. Every second they spent among the dinosaurs was a risk, but walking along a blood trail could be suicidal. Still no one wanted to be the first to give up on Dr. Coombs. Colter took the now familiar role of leader.

  They backed well away from the clearing before circling around to the trail, which was heavily trampled by the gathering scavengers. Though the blood was drying, it was still crimson on the green grass. Quickly, before they met another predator, they backtracked toward where they left the trail originally. But suddenly something cut across the path, and they gasped in fear. The three were about to start off again when Colter turned, looking to where the little dinosaur had disappeared. He took a couple of steps off the path and then squatted. Petra knelt next to him as Dr. Piltcher looked over his shoulder, and they saw blood on the grass.

  “More blood. So what, Colter?” Petra asked.

  “How did it get here? The trail’s back there.” Colter stood and walked a few more steps. “Here’s more of it.”

  Then, without anot
her word, Colter trotted off through the brush. Petra and Dr. Piltcher looked at each other, suddenly realizing it was another blood trail. A hundred yards away they found him staring at a pack of small dinosaurs in the grass ahead.

  It took Petra and Dr. Piltcher a minute to recognize Dr. Coombs’s remains. The small dinosaurs had shredded his clothes and picked his bones nearly clean. Even his skull had been peeled of its flesh, although his eyes were still intact in the sockets.

  When the small pack of dinosaurs spotted them they froze, heads up and tails held straight out. As Colter screamed and then charged the pack, thrusting at the closest dinosaur with his spear, the pack scattered, some with meaty bones still in their mouths. Colter stood looking down on Dr. Coombs’s remains, Petra’s mind was overflowing with horror, and Dr. Piltcher was once again lost in his grief. This time he had no doubt about his friend’s death.

  Colter returned to the others, his face impassive.

  “Want me to bury him? There’s still quite a bit left. I don’t know, though. They’ll probably just dig him up again. Maybe we could cover it … him, with rocks.”

  Dr. Piltcher was about to reply when the branches behind him began to snap. The three turned to see a fifteen-foot-tall carnivore coming through the brush, towering above them. Its head and jaws were huge. It walked on two well-muscled back legs, but its forelegs looked smaller and useless. A long thick tail dragged behind.

  “Run,” Colter yelled, and the others obeyed. Colter took the lead, breaking trail through the brush. He ran a straight line, dodging only the thicker stands or those with thorns. They pounded through, oblivious to the blows from the branches. Dr. Piltcher; soon exhausted, began to trail behind. When Petra noticed she shouted to Colter, who shot a quick look over his shoulder, and then trotted off to the side, motioning for Petra to take the lead. When Dr. Piltcher plodded past, Colter fell in behind, watching over his shoulder for the dinosaur.

  Petra set a slower pace than Colter so Dr. Piltcher could keep up, but something was wrong. Petra had seen him jog for miles before. He was stumbling along now, head down and breathing raggedly. The brush thinned, and then they broke into a clearing that led down to the lake, where the grass was short and looked well grazed. They were moving at a slow jog around what Petra realized were huge piles of animal droppings. Dr. Piltcher stumbled over one pile but kept his feet. Petra dropped back to jog next to him, setting a pace. Dr. Piltcher’s chest was heaving and his breathing was irregular.

  When Petra looked back for Colter, her feet caught in something and she fell headlong into the grass, just missing a pile of dried dung. Dr. Piltcher stopped when she fell and dropped to his knees, desperately trying to catch his breath. Petra found herself lying in the grass on an uneven surface, the turf beneath her looking like a badly laid carpet with huge wrinkles. Petra rolled to her knees, looking for Colter, but he was nowhere in sight. Neither was the dinosaur. Dr. Piltcher was still on his knees, his breathing labored, one hand was pressed tight against his chest, and his face red and sprinkled with sweat. Looking up at her, he shook his head, and began puffing rapidly through his nose, trying to control his breathing. He spoke finally, in a hoarse whisper.

  “Petra, I’m sorry, but I … my chest…”

  “It’s okay, Dr. Piltcher. Don’t speak. I think we’re all right here,” Petra answered reassuringly, but not believing it.

  Petra scanned the meadow looking for Colter or signs of danger. If she hadn’t been so scared she might have noted the details in the landscape—the still, blue lake in the middle, surrounded by clumps of towering leafy trees along its shore. The bright green sea of swaying meadow grasses hid the wrinkled turf.

  Taller, forest green bushes dotted the clearing as far as Petra could see. She looked from left to right for a hiding place or a way back to the RV. The lake narrowed on the south end and a finger of the lake ended in a stream. Whether it fed the lake or drained it, Petra couldn’t tell. But along that stream were large moving shapes—quadrupeds like the one that destroyed the RV and killed Dr. Coombs. They were still a long way off, but it was clear they were coming closer. Petra felt trapped. She feared running back into the brush because the dinosaur that had chased them was there somewhere. She was too afraid to head toward the approaching herd, but if they cut across the meadow away from the herd she could be inviting attack. Besides, Dr. Piltcher wouldn’t be running much farther today.

  Petra could see only one choice. She urged Dr. Piltcher to his feet, took his arm, and led him toward the trees along the lake. They would climb a .tree if they could. Otherwise they could swim for it, although she had no idea whether dinosaurs could swim or not.

  Dr. Piltcher padded along next to her, Petra supporting him when he stumbled. As they ran, Petra kept watch on the approaching herd. They showed no signs of attack, or even of notice. At the first tree, Dr. Piltcher sat with his back against the trunk, his hand on his chest and his head down. He was breathing easier now, although still ragged.

  Petra walked around, trying to find an easy tree to climb. Similar to poplar trees, these had branches covered with thousands of round leaves. When she found it she returned to help Dr. Piltcher to his feet. He let her guide him, his strength and spirit left behind with Dr. Coombs.

  Petra’s tree was on the edge of the clearing near the lake. The lowest limb was just out of her reach. She knew she could jump to it and pull herself up, but Dr. Piltcher couldn’t, even if he was feeling well. She tried boosting him up, but he was too weak to grip the limb. After their third try Petra let Dr. Piltcher slip to the ground and rest while she trotted along the edge of the small stand looking vainly for signs of Colter. At the far edge of the little wood, she was shocked to see the dinosaurs had nearly reached the lake and were fanning out along the shore, coming closer. Hiding behind the tree trunks, she shrank back when she saw them. Petra’s eyes riveted on the massive set of horns—images of Dr. Coombs impaled flashed through her mind. Urgently, she dodged from trunk to trunk back to Dr. Piltcher. She had to get him in the tree somehow, or it was the lake.

  She pulled the professor to his feet again. His breathing was better now, though his hand was still pressed to his chest, and his face had regained some color.

  “We’ve got to climb this tree, Dr. Piltcher,” she said. “More of those dinosaurs are coming, like the one that wrecked the RV.”

  “Monoclonius,” he managed to whisper.

  “Yes, monoclonius. They’re almost here. I want you to stand on my back.”

  “I’m sure George was wrong about them being triceratops.”

  “Dr. Piltcher, you must climb on my back.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Petra.”

  “Don’t worry, you won’t hurt me.”

  Dr. Piltcher continued to protest, but Petra shushed him and got down on her hands and knees. The professor stepped up on her gingerly, but his full weight was soon on her back. His boots seesawed across her spinal column, and she had to bite her lip to hold back a gasp of pain. She could feel the older man trying to pull himself up, but he had no strength.

  “I can’t do it, Petra. Leave me. You climb up, I’ll be okay.”

  “No. Don’t you move, just hang on to the limb,” Petra nearly shouted, and Dr. Piltcher stood still, his hands drooped over the top of the thick limb. Then Petra inched her legs forward and began to push. Suddenly the weight was removed from her back and she collapsed to the ground. She rolled over, expecting to see Dr. Piltcher sitting in the tree. Instead, she found him hanging from the limb, his arms wrapped over the top, and his legs dancing below.

  “I’m going to fall, Petra.”

  “No!” she shouted, leaping to her feet. She knew she wouldn’t be able to lift him again, so she put her hands on the professor’s bottom and pushed. At the same time Dr. Piltcher used his arms to hitch himself higher on the limb. Finally, his chest worked its way up, and then he was lying on his stomach on the limb. Petra watched him turn toward her, a slight smile on his face—then the
smile evaporated.

  “Petra, behind you,” he whispered.

  Petra turned carefully to see a monoclonius looking down its snout horn at her. Two smaller monoclonius were behind, both with their horns pointed directly at her. Petra was afraid to move. She was pretty sure she could pull herself up, but pretty sure wasn’t good enough. She might not get that second chance. The monoclonius weren’t moving, or acting aggressively, but something that size would petrify Hercules.

  The standoff continued for a full minute, then the closest monoclonius walked deliberately forward, keeping its eyes on Petra. She retreated until her back was against the tree trunk. Petra looked right and left, trying to decide on which way to run. The monoclonius was only twenty feet away when it stopped. Then it raised its massive head, pointing its three long horns at the sky. After several sniffs the dinosaur dropped its head, pointing the three mighty horns at Petra, sniffed again, snorted out a spray of mucus, then walked past Petra and out into the clearing. The two dinosaurs behind it followed suit, each pausing to sniff at Petra. Petra held her breath until they were well gone and then jumped up, grabbed the branch, and pulled herself onto the limb. Dr. Piltcher managed to sit up.

  “I told you, Petra, they’re vegetarians,” He smiled weakly.

  Petra smiled back. She hated to see him like this, weak and dependent. For the last two years he’d been her father figure. It was a symbiotic relationship. He needed his ego boosted by a young admiring female, and she needed some older charismatic man to make up for the father she never really knew. She also knew children eventually become parents to their parents, but she never expected it to happen with a mentor, and not. in such a bizarre fashion. Dr. Piltcher was still smiling at her so she shook her head in disbelief and whispered back to him. “So a vegetarian did that to the RV? Needed a little iron in its diet, so it decided to eat an RV.”

  Dr. Piltcher returned her smile, seeming to have more energy now.