Footprints of Thunder

by James F. David

  The monster was continuing along the picket line, which moved in front of it to keep the largest males in front of the enraged carnivore. It paused to roar at the monoclonius occasionally but made no attacks. It was close to their tree now, and Petra signaled Dr. Piltcher to freeze while it passed. Its head moved along the treeline at eye level, and Petra found herself mesmerized by one huge eye. How could something that big be alive? But it passed and Petra watched its back move toward the lake and to where Colter had disappeared. Whispering a prayer for him, she signaled Dr. Piltcher to try again.

  When the giant carnivore reached the lake its frustration boiled over. Obviously, there was no opening in the line of monoclonius, only a solid line of horns and armor. From experience, it knew the three horns could be killed, but only if caught alone. In a pack they worked together, jabbing over and over, and exposing nothing to the carnivore’s jaws except horn and bony collar. But the giant’s hunger was great today, almost as great as its frustration, so it screamed again and then charged.

  The carnivore’s scream nearly shook Petra from her limb. She could hear its rage. Petra turned to see the carnivore thrust down, clamping its jaws on the collar of one of the monoclonius, its teeth squalling on the bone like fingernails on a black board, and Petra flinched. The monoclonius roared back defiantly, trying to shake the carnivore from its collar, but the massive jaws kept their grip and the carnivore jerked the monoclonius briefly off its feet. .

  The monoclonius roared again, but in anger, not in pain. Petra realized there were probably no nerves in that protective collar. Suddenly another monoclonius shot forward, burying it: snout horn into the thigh of the carnivore, and then quickly pulled out and backed away. As the carnivore’s jaws released and its head snapped up and turned toward its tormentor, another male jabbed it from the other side. It trumpeted in pair this time, snapping its head toward the new threat. Again it was attacked from its left. Petra silently cheered the monoclonius.

  The carnivore, bleeding from the thigh wounds, began backing up, bellowing out its pain and outrage. Now the monoclonius advanced slowly, heads down, pawing the ground threatening the carnivore every step of the way—Petra realized it was backing straight toward their tree.

  She turned to signal Dr. Piltcher to freeze only to find him hanging upside down, with one leg over the overhanging limb trying to get still higher. Petra turned to see the back of the carnivore’s head coming toward her. Yelling for Dr. Piltcher to hang on, she wrapped her arms around the trunk of the tree and buried her face in the bark.

  At the last second, the carnivore turned and backed into the tree next to theirs. With nowhere to go, the monster bent and snapped its jaws at the advancing monoclonius, who stopped their advance and backed away. When the monoclonius had given it enough space to retreat, it released its anger in another deafening roar, and then turned—spotting Petra and Dr. Piltcher.

  Petra’s strength melted away when the giant’s eye fixed on them. Then the head turned, showing both its eyes, and its huge flaring nostrils. The head leaned into the tree, snapping off limbs in its way. When Petra saw the jaws opening slowly she turned away, and jumped to a limb below. She caught it, but her weight pulled her free, and she fell again. She hit another limb with her hip, ricocheting off and onto another. This time she wrapped her arms around it and managed to hold on. Her legs were still dangling, but she looked up.

  Dr. Piltcher had dropped back to the lower limb and was standing facing the monster’s head, flinching back, turning to jump, when the jaws reached him. They crushed both the professor’s feet and the limb. Dr. Piltcher screamed and fell headlong, his ankles still trapped in the jaws. With a mighty shake of its head, the professor was thrown to the ground. Still he remained conscious and lay screaming, his ravaged legs spurting blood.

  With more terror than she’d ever felt, Petra turned away when the dinosaur bent and clamped its jaws over Dr. Piltcher’s head and shoulders. She closed her eyes, but knew that if she lived she’d spend her life seeing that image every day. As the dinosaur worked at its meal, tearing the body and crunching the bones, Petra saw her chance and carefully dropped onto a lower limb on the other side.

  Then she climbed down recklessly. She’d rather die from a fall than in the jaws of that monster. A rumbling sound brought her head around to see that the monster was back, and its head sniffing the tree where she had been. Now she dropped, barely looking to check her footing before moving to the next limb. Another rumbling above her, this time closer—she didn’t bother to look but swung out and dropped to the ground. Her knees buckled—she crumpled, looking up to see the legs of the monster move toward her. She didn’t have to look to know the jaws were coming down.

  When Petra stood to run the monster roared, its hot fetid breath knocked her to the ground. Petra rolled over to see the monster’s towering head swing away toward something behind it—Colter, running through the trees, holding his spear, the tip bloody. Petra was on her feet when he reached her and they ran through the trees side by side. Futilely, the monster tried to follow. Branches snapped and bent, but the trees proved too much for the awkward behemoth. Finally, it turned and moved to the edge of the woods, trying to catch them when they entered the clearing.

  Colter, running on Petra’s right, reached out, pushing on her shoulder. Petra stumbled left, turning to glare at Colter, thinking his push might cost her life. But he reached out pointing left and he shouted, between gasps, “Run for the lake.”

  Petra didn’t bother to answer. Dodging bushes and trees, she headed where he’d directed her. Colter ran abreast of her. When they reached the treeline they stopped to catch their breaths, trying to spot the dinosaur. They could hear the dinosaur bulldozing through the brush, but it was nowhere in sight. Colter kicked off his shoes, pulled off his shirt, and began unbuttoning his pants; Petra, exhausted, followed suit but kept her bra on.

  Glancing at Colter’s body, she saw it was cut in a dozen places with dried blood covering his chest and legs. His white underpants were stained with blood too. As Petra watched bewildered, he took her pants and zipped them up and buttoned them, then tied the legs in knots. Colter looked up, his forehead creasing in concern.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “What do you think?” she snapped.

  Then Colter wiped a finger across her forehead. When he pulled it away it was covered with blood. Petra started to check her head for wounds, but then realized that when the monster blasted her with its breath, it misted her with Dr. Piltcher’s blood.

  “I’m okay,” she whispered. “It’s not my blood.”

  Colter didn’t ask whose blood it was.

  “I’m ready,” he said instead. “Let’s go.”

  Colter got up, holding their pants in one hand and trotted toward the lake. It was a warm autumn day, but they were wearing nothing but their underwear, and their sweat-coated bodies cooled rapidly in the breeze. Halfway to the lake the monster came around the treeline. It spotted them instantly and charged. They sprinted the rest of the way to the lake across rock and weed, unmindful of the little creatures skitter’ ing away from their feet. Petra and Colter hit the water full speed, but the water slowed them. Waist high and barely moving, they saw the monster was turning into the lake, splashing toward them.

  Colter and Petra began stroking as fast as they could, pulling for deep water, realizing the lake would have to be thirty feet deep to force the monster to swim. They heard it splashing behind them, creating deep waves that rolled Petra, making it difficult to swim. She turned her head back with the next stroke to see the dinosaur behind them, very close to Colter who dove, disappearing beneath the waves. Bellowing, the monster turned toward Petra. She too dove, kicking and stroking furiously, holding her breath until her lungs were ready to explode. Then she surfaced, blowing out the stale air, and breathing in new.

  She heard the monster roar behind her and dove again, now angling away from her last position. This time she couldn’t stay down a
s long, but when she came up again she found the monster turned away from her and looking down into the water. She took several quiet breaths and then dove again, stroking away from the beast. When she came up the dinosaur was staring helplessly into the lake.

  Now she breaststroked away from the beast, looking back frequently to make sure it wasn’t following. Well out into the lake, safe from the dinosaur, she was tiring quickly. The monster watched her from shore but still didn’t move to follow— she hoped it couldn’t swim. Colter was struggling through the water, swimming with one hand. Petra worried that one of his arms had been injured but then realized he was still dragging the jeans. When Colter splashed up close to her he reached out and thrust a pair of jeans at her.

  “Here, hold these.”

  “What for?”

  “Just do it,” Colter yelled breathlessly.

  Petra took the jeans and found her arm immediately pulled toward the bottom of the lake. Colter was struggling to stay afloat by using only his legs, while he fiddled with the jeans. Then he took the pants by the waist and swung them up and then down into the water, inflating the legs. Petra grabbed them at the waist and held it in the water and found the makeshift float supported her. Colter inflated the other pair, then side by side he and Petra floated.

  The lake was silent now. The bellows of the frustrated carnivore retreated into the distance and then faded away. The only sound was the sound of the air slowly leaking through the fabric of the jeans, which they had to reinflate every few minutes. Small ripples in the water caught Petra’s eye. Still watching the surface of the water, she saw dozens of bumps appear on the surface of the lake. When the closest set of bumps blinked, she screamed and smacked the water.

  “Petra, stop, stop. Here, look at this.” Colter held out his hand.

  Something was sitting in his palm: a little brown fish with huge bulging eyes. It had two fins and four little legs.

  “What is it, Colter?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s breathing. It’s kind of a fish and kind of a frog or something. I don’t think it’s dangerous.”

  Colter dropped the little creature in the water and swam closer to Petra, then floated by her side. They rested together until they began to shiver, then they knew it was time to move. Kicking through the water, across the lake and away from where they entered, they reached the middle of the lake and turned toward shore. They moved slowly, not wanting to attract attention. The monster was gone, but as tired as they were, even the three-footers would be more challenge that they could handle. The shore remained empty though, and they gained confidence as they neared. Then something brushed Petra’s leg. Something big.

  Whatever it was, was armored with bony scales and scraped a few inches of skin off of her calf. She yelped when it hit and Colter immediately swam closer.

  “My leg! Something hit my leg. I think I’m bleeding.”

  “That’s bad. Trailing blood is like ringing the dinner bell. Make for shore as fast as you can.”

  Petra frog kicked herself forward, keeping both hands wrapped around her jeans float. Colter settled in behind her, zigzagging across her wake. The shore crept closer at a painfully slow pace.

  “Petra, to your left. In the water.”

  Petra turned following Colter’s instructions. There was something swimming alongside of them, matching its pace to theirs—a dark mass six or eight feet long. It looked like a fish to Petra, but without putting her head in the water there was no way to tell what kind. If only Dr. Coombs or Dr. Piltcher were here, they could tell her what kind of fish to expect in a prehistoric lake.

  Petra sifted through her own memories, but the only image that came to mind all had long thin necks and huge flippers. This mass didn’t look like that. Instead it looked like something the size of a shark. Freshwater sharks? Realizing she was only scaring herself, she saw it wasn’t attacking, and the only thing more important than that was the approaching shore.

  “Colter, it’s gone. Do you see it?”

  “No. Man, I wish I knew if that was good or bad. Just keep swimming.”

  Petra gritted her teeth against the pain in her aching muscles and kicked even harder. As she swam she watched left and right, vowing not to give herself up to some fish when she had beaten a monster like the one that killed Dr. Piltcher.

  Not just killed, she reminded herself, but eaten. Why did being eaten horrify her more than just simple death? Surely it didn’t matter to Dr. Piltcher and Dr. Coombs, they were both beyond caring. But to Petra it did matter. Maybe she wanted something to bury and mourn. But most of all she was repulsed by the idea of humans being used as food. Humans weren’t food. At least they weren’t in their own world. Here the human place in the food chain was still being worked out and the humans hadn’t done well so far.

  “It’s back, Petra,” Colter announced. “It just cut between us. I think it’s trying to separate us. Just keep going, I’ll stay close behind.”

  Petra tried, but she had no more energy. She was making her best possible speed—a snail’s pace. Suddenly Colter gasped, and Petra turned to see him struggling back up onto his float. He was coughing and sputtering.

  “I’m okay. It scraped me too. I think it’s tasting us.”

  “Shut up, Colter, and swim!”

  Petra turned toward shore again and forced herself back into her rhythm. Something rushed by her legs, creating powerful swirls around her dangling feet. Petra kept up her pace, but then it rushed by again, closer this time.

  Petra could feel the attack coming and then Colter shouted, “This is it! Swim for it, Petra!”

  Confused and scared, Petra wanted to shout she was swimming but had no energy. Colter was facing the other way. She couldn’t see the fish but its wake was rushing toward Colter, whose float, she realized, was gone. She turned, let go of her float, and began arm stroking toward shore, finding her rested arms had more energy left than her nearly useless legs. Despite her loud splashing, she heard the attack behind her; violent thrashing in the water. Petra was too afraid for herself to think about Colter. Instead she repeated to herself, left, right, left right. Soon, her arms tired and her speed dropped off.

  A new sound came behind her now, a rhythmical splashing Petra began to cry. Her arms moved mechanically, and with every stroke she lost a little speed. Her vision was blurring Before she had seen the blue murk of the depths. Now a greenish fuzz hung before her eyes, drifting up to meet her, and then on her next stroke she hit it. It was the bottom.

  She folded at the waist trying to get her legs under her, but she was too near the shore. Now she found herself kneeling in the water, chest deep. Still, she felt as if she were onshore, safe from the lake’s menaces. Then she heard splashing behind her,

  She spun to see Colter wading through the water, spreading his arms as he approached. Petra stood to take his embrace, but instead Colter turned her toward shore. With his arm around her they walked along the lake bottom toward the meadow beyond.

  As their bodies met the cool air, they began to shiver. Petra wanted to run to shore and into the grass of the meadow for warmth, but Colter held her back.

  “Let’s make sure something’s not waiting for us.”

  The breeze was chilly, so Petra squatted in the water to warm herself.

  “What happened back there, Colter? I thought that fish had you for sure.”

  “It almost did. I stuffed my Levi’s into its mouth. It tore them up something bad, but while it was wasting its time I took off.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t stop to help you.”

  Colter turned when she said that, anger flashing across his face.

  “Don’t be sorry. Petra, everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you. Dr. Piltcher is right … was right. I’m not that smart, not like you. I didn’t really belong in the group. I was only there for you. Now all I want is to get you out of here.”

  “Get us out of here,” Petra corrected. “Let’s get out of here and see if my dorm room is still there.” />
  Pushing herself out of the water as she spoke, she stood in her soaking bra and panties, holding out her arms. Colter, nearly naked himself and covered with wounds, stepped into her arms. They hugged, enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodies, and rocked gently against each other, their eyes closed, lest something distract them from their internal sensations. The released libido warmed them slightly, giving them comfort and pleasure.

  Then Petra pushed her hips against Colter and leaned her head back. Colter bent his head to kiss her, but never got the chance. When Colter moved to kiss Petra he saw something coming out of the water behind her. It was the fish.

  This was like no fish he had ever seen. It had a fish shape, but it was armored from head to tail, with four flippers it used like legs to run along the lake bottom. Colter started to push Petra aside, but it was too late. The fish hit her from behind, clamping its jaws down on her left leg. The blow knocked Petra into Colter and he stumbled back, falling into the shallows. Screaming from the shock and the pain, Petra’s leg was jerked out from under her as the killer fish pulled her toward the depths. In vain, Colter charged after them.

  “Kick at it, Petra,” he shouted in desperation.

  Petra mouthed something Colter never heard and then her head was pulled beneath the surface. Diving into the water, Colter saw Petra pulled deeper into the lake, her arms outstretched, reaching for him. He stroked and kicked after her, reaching out to grab her retreating hands, but it was no use. He watched her pleading eyes and reaching hands fade into the murky depths, until she was gone.

  50. Rescue

  You have confessed your prognostications of doom. Have you forgotten I am a god? Would not I know the future if it was to be known?

  —King of Babylon to Zorastrus

  Forest, former site of Portland, Oregon

  PostQuilt: Tuesday, 5:20 P.M. PST

  They were running through the trees away from the camp. Ripman led the way, moving through the forest with a familiarity that was natural, not acquired, and Ellen and Angie struggled to keep up. Both women still had on their shoes and pants, but Angie’s blouse was completely gone and Ellen’s had no buttons. Branches and tall grasses scratched tender skin unaccustomed to exposure.