“Hey, how far does this go, anyway?”
The woman turned before she followed the others.
“Don’t know for sure. I heard Vancouver’s still there, but the bridges are down. Someone said it goes all the way to Wilsonville.”
John thanked her as she rode to catch up with the others. Wilsonville, he said to himself. They had already seen how far south the affected area was, and the woman had mentioned Vancouver. That meant not only was his house gone, but 90 percent of the metropolitan area was now dinosaur-infested forest.
Bill took them up again and deeper into the quilt. Two clearings later Terry spotted something orange—fluorescent orange and certainly not natural. Bill couldn’t land so he hovered at treetop level, giving Terry a better look. There were four three-wheeled ATVs in the trees. Two of them lay on their sides. Each one carried an orange flag on a seven foot whip pole— that was the orange Terry had spotted. They circled slowly but saw no signs of any people. Even when they widened their search circle they never found the owners of the bikes.
Terry directed Bill into the valley, using the few landmarks he could recognize, but mostly relying on his best judgment. Terry was directing Bill toward his house, or at least where his house had been. That would be the logical place for Ellen to look for John. Terry let Bill fly past the location before he directed him to circle. There was nothing there but forest. Bill’s circles grew wider and wider, and still they saw nothing but trees, no houses, roads or buildings. Surely, Terry told himself, Ellen and Angie would have realized the futility of their search by the time they got this far.
Bill’s air force eyes were used to seeing things from overhead, and again he spotted something new. Motorcycles were parked around a black spot in a clearing. He circled the clearing but again saw no people, only movement in the grass, small animals scurrying for hiding places. Bill landed near the bikes and left the rotors turning, then climbed out, offering an M-16 to Terry. Terry refused. He didn’t know how to shoot it and felt he’d be a danger to Bill if he tried.
The motorcycles were parked around a fire, still smoldering, littered with empty liquor bottles. In the grass on one side was the head of a dinosaur, about twice the size of a human head. Its eyes were gone and insects crawled over it, Terry was mesmerized. Even though it was as much a product of evolution as Terry, it seemed unearthly.
Bill climbed on one of the bikes, turned the key, then tried kick starting it. The loud whirring startled Terry and also something in the grass. Walking slowly toward the movement, Terry saw the grass had been trampled or run down in the makeshift path. More grass rustled to his right, and he froze. Then he stepped into the grass toward the movement. He took two steps down a slight hill before he saw it. It was a body, a human body, in worse shape than the dinosaur head. Large and small animals had been feeding on it, and it was nothing more than blackened meat. Terry turned away, struggling to control his nausea.
Bill was looking at the engine on the motorcycle when he returned.
“There’s a body down there,” Terry said slowly.
Bill stood up and merely looked in the direction Terry pointed.
“Well that might fit. These bikes have been sabotaged. Someone got mad and cut up their wiring, and maybe killed a guy.”
Before Terry could respond something big ran behind him. Bill shouldered his rifle and stared into the grass.
Suddenly a head popped up. It was larger than a human head, with an elongated snout and two rows of needle teeth. Hissing at them, it ducked its head and continued walking. Bill fired blindly after it.
“What are you doing, Bill? That’s an extinct species—was an extinct species.”
Another movement to Terry’s left brought Bill’s gun around again. Another head popped up and then disappeared, similar to the first. At the sound of more movement in the grass, Terry realized they were surrounded.
“They’re hunting us in a pack,” Bill said. “Stay close to me and when I say run, you run.”
Following Bill’s gesture, they stepped toward the helicopter. Terry wished he’d not turned down Bill’s other rifle. A pounding behind them caught their attention, and Bill and Terry turned to see a dinosaur about the size of a Shetland pony charge through the grass. Its body was gray-green, with a short thin neck and a tail held up almost to head height. It was running on two back legs and had short clawed arms folded against its chest. Its mouth was open, revealing its double row of teeth, but it made no sound. Bill fired three shots into the chest in quick succession and the dinosaur collapsed into the grass, tumbling toward Terry and Bill, yelping and screaming, drowning out the thump of the helicopter. Bill fired three more shots at movement to their left and was rewarded with another yelp.
“Run!”
Terry bolted toward the helicopter, gritting his teeth and pushing his legs to move him faster than he had in years. Bill pulled ahead of him, but Terry had nothing more to give. Terry’s eyes darted back and forth as he ran, watching for any signs of attack. As he pounded and puffed through the grass, he realized the sounds of the helicopter’s engines would drown out the noise of dinosaurs in pursuit. They could be surprised at any moment. Bill scrambled in as Terry ran to the far side, swung the door open, and climbed onto the seat. Just as he was closing the door he heard Bill yell a warning. Instinctively Terry leaned into the cockpit and pulled his exposed leg high. Teeth buried themselves into the seat beneath Terry, and the dinosaur struggled to pull the seat out from under him. Then Bill’s M-16 slapped down on Terry’s other leg. Terry froze, but Bill hesitated. Suddenly the dinosaur lunged for a better mouthful. Quickly Terry shoved himself up off the seat, his back arched. The jaws, snapped closed just below his crotch.
“Kill it, Bill! Kill it!” he screamed, and Bill fired a shot into the dinosaur’s head. Blood spattered Terry’s face and crotch. The dinosaur stopped moving and slumped, but its jaws were still set in the seat.
“Get it out of here. We’ve got to take off before another one gets us!”
Terry leaned on Bill and kicked the head. With each kick he heard the seat tear, but the dinosaur’s blood made the head slippery and Terry’s blows began to slide off. A dozen kicks later, the head flopped out the door with a piece of seat still in its mouth.
Bill increased rotor speed and pulled up immediately. As they lifted off, Terry could see two more dinosaurs running off through the grass. When they were safely away, Bill turned to Terry with a grin and shouted over the rotors.
“Now what was that about those things being extinct species?”
Terry, shaking, tried to maneuver his body onto what was left of the seat. As he put his headphones on, he heard Bill chuckling.
“That was the quickest conversion I’ve ever seen. ‘Save the endangered species’ to ‘kill it quick,’ in less than a minute. Say, Terry, you know, what kind of dinosaur that was, don’t you? Ballosaurus. It eats only one thing and it nearly had yours.”
Bill kept laughing, but Terry wasn’t amused and quietly fumed, watching below. But for a long time all he could see were razor sharp teeth snapping an inch from his crotch.
“What’s this? I don’t believe it.”
Terry looked but saw only foliage.
“No, up here. Over there.”
Terry looked to see skyscrapers shimmering in the distance— translucent skyscrapers. Portland was there now, but it hadn’t been just minutes ago. But was it really there? Did Terry and Bill need to see Portland so badly that their minds were creating it? Terry looked for landmarks, picking out the Bank of California, and the KOIN tower. Terry tried scanning vertically to the base of the skyscrapers, but they blurred into indistinguishable light and shadow at their base, making it impossible to distinguish cars and people.
“Think Ellen and Angie made it into the city? Maybe my son is there now. Let’s fly into it, Bill. See if we can find them.”
Bill hesitated, holding the helicopter in a hover. Terry had never seen him indecisive before.
“What’s the problem? Let’s go find our people.”
“Something’s not right … mmmm … It doesn’t look real … doesn’t look stable.”
“If it’s not real it will disappear as we approach it.” Terry said it with more confidence than he felt. Why was the city flickering like a mirage?
The helicopter tilted nose down and started forward. Bill stiffened noticeably, shaking Terry’s confidence as they moved forward. Terry found it difficult to stay focused on the city. His eyes seemed to fix on the hills shining beyond the city. Then the buildings began to fade. Terry blinked to bring the image back, but it continued to fade until it was gone. Bill slowed the helicopter, hovering again, staring at the forest where the city had been.
“Hallucination?” Bill asked.
“Two people sharing a hallucination is extremely rare. Maybe a mirage.”
“We’re low on fuel. A couple more passes, then we need to head back.”
Bill turned back to resume his spiral search pattern and Terry returned to his watch, surprised at how easily he could put the vanishing city out of his mind. It was, he realized, just one facet of a mystery that had consumed his son, and perhaps his wife.
62. Captured
It happened mid morning when everyone was about their daily tasks. Suddenly burning planks began to fall from the sky. The fiery planks were of similar width, but varied in length, and all were aflame. The planks were quickly extinguished. The villagers turned to the priest, fearing witchcraft and seeking explanation, but he had none to offer.
—Francois Delaine, Province of Tournaine, France, August 15,1670
Forest, former site of Portland, Oregon
PostQuilt: Wednesday, 10:05 A.M. PST
Ellen, you look like shit. You gotta take better care of yourself.”
Kishton was holding Ellen’s hands behind her back and Carl was looking her over like she was a piece of meat. Which she felt like now—bloodied from a hundred tiny wounds, with dirt covering her arms and legs and tattered blouse and pants. But as his eyes smoldered, Ellen knew the dirt didn’t matter to Carl.
Ripman stirred and sat up, drawing Carl’s attention. He had been lying on the ground unconscious, but the bow was still slung over his shoulder. Carl jerked it off angrily.
“So you’re the sonofabitch that shot me. You fucked up our bikes too, didn’t you?”
Ellen saw that Ripman’s eyes showed no surprise at the mention of the bikes. Had he slipped into their camp while Angie and she slept?
“He killed Bobby,” Miller added, and then kicked Ripman in the side, knocking him over again. “You shot him in the back. That ain’t the way it’s done.”
Ripman pushed himself into a sitting position again and looked up at Miller. The right side of his face was swelling.
“Sorry. What’s the right way to kill a rapist?”
“Sonofabitch!” Miller shouted, and kicked Ripman again.
Carl pushed Miller back and took center stage.
“Rapist? Hell, they were asking for it!” Carl shouted in Ripman’s face. “They sure as hell weren’t no virgins. Did you see the size of Angle’s tits?” Carl said. “And the way she was wigglin’ around? She wanted it, and we have it. A match made in heaven. By the way,” Carl asked; lowering his rifle so it pointed at Ripman’s head, “where is Big Tits?”
Ripman gave Ellen a look she couldn’t interpret and then jumped up and shouted in the direction they had come.
“Run, Angie, hide! Run!”
A blow from Carl’s fist sent him back to the ground.
“I’ll get her, Carl,” Miller volunteered. “Sounds like fun to me,”
Miller headed off recklessly, climbing over and under trees. Ellen looked in the direction of Ripman’s shout, trying to spot the dinosaur, but an isolated patch of standing trees was blocking the view. How far had they come while she was semiconscious? Was the dinosaur gone? Was it following like before?
Carl grabbed a fistful of Ellen’s blouse, pulling her close. She could feel his hot breath and could smell liquor.
“Let’s you and me go someplace more comfortable.” He shoved Ellen ahead of him. “Kishton, bring Robin Hood, and watch him close. You can kill him if you want to.”
Kishton looked scathingly at Ripman, but there was no murder in his eyes. Talking of killing someone was easy. Actually killing was hard. Only Carl was sociopath enough to do it in cold blood. Pulling Ripman to his feet, Kishton shoved him in the direction of Carl and Ellen.
They were nearly out of the fallen trees when they heard three quick shots, followed by a roar. As they all turned and looked back, a loud thumping and crunching sound nearly frightened them off the log they were standing on. Then Miller appeared around the corner of the tree stand, his rifle in one hand, climbing one fallen log, and then jumping from tree to tree. Another roar trumpeted and a dinosaur came around the tree stand, the one that killed Angie. It had trouble negotiating the fallen trees and picked its way slowly. Miller tripped over a trunk and disappeared, then popped back up, steadied his rifle across the trunk, and fired another three quick shots. When the dinosaur bellowed in pain, Carl and Kishton brought their guns to their shoulders and fired, missing it.
Miller raced to another fallen tree looking for a way over, then began climbing limbs recklessly. The dinosaur swiped at him, but too late, and Miller jumped down between trunks. Before Miller reappeared the animal stepped up on one trunk, and then another, and another. Then, poised precariously on two logs, it looked down. As the tail slammed down, acting as a stabilizer, the dinosaur bent its head between its feet, using the forelegs to swipe. Two quick shots came from beneath the trunk.
“Reload, Miller, reload!” Kishton shouted.
Miller’s first scream was shorter than Angle’s, but he got two more out before the digging claws silenced him.
“Move it!” Carl yelled, shoving Ellen again. “And you, you sonofabitch!” Carl screamed, kicking Ripman in the groin and knocking him to the ground. “You did that on purpose. You knew that thing was there!” Ripman groaned, then whimpered as Carl kicked him in the back.
“He wanted to be with Angie, didn’t he?” Ellen said, hoping to distract Carl. “Now they’ll always be together.”
Carl whipped around at the sound of her voice, his face red with fury, the lust in his eyes replaced by murder. Ellen’s mind raced as she searched for a way out.
“I think it’s coming this way,” she lied.
Carl’s head snapped back to the dinosaur, which still had its head poked under a log.
“You’ll pay for this! You’ll both pay,” Carl hissed.
Carl shoved Ellen and once again they were climbing toward the forest. Everyone except Ripman kept looking back. Occasionally the animal glanced in their direction, but it was preoccupied with eating.
Again Ellen was facing what her psychologist husband would call an avoidance-avoidance conflict. If she tried to escape she would probably be killed by Carl or Kishton, and if she did escape, this dinosaur, or some other-, would probably eat her just like Angie. But if she didn’t escape she would end up being gang raped first and then killed. Then there was Ripman. He could have left her and Angie to the dinosaur. Instead he tried to help them. Now it looked like Carl and Kishton would beat him to death. If she escaped, she resolved, it would be with Ripman.
The standing forest was only a few logs away when a bullet slammed into a fallen tree next to Ellen, followed by the report of a pistol. Confused, Carl and Kishton looked in all directions. Two more bullets whined over their heads, and all four people ducked behind the nearest log. Then a voice rang out of the forest, a deep menacing voice, a voice that was vaguely familiar to Ellen.
“Let the woman and boy go!”
“Who are you?” Carl shouted back. The voice repeated its demand. Carl gave Kishton a quizzical look, but Kishton merely shrugged. Carl then turned, his rifle on Ripman.
“Who’s out there, kid?”
The right side of Ripman’s
face was swollen and purplish. He could scarcely move his lips, but he whispered, “Someone with a gun.”
Carl slapped Ripman across his discolored cheek. As Ripman grimaced with pain he gasped and moaned. Satisfied momentarily, Carl turned to Ellen, who flippantly offered, “Someone with a gun and an attitude?”
Carl slapped her down, then jerked her up by her hair.
“They ain’t gonna get you. You’re mine.”
Two more shots echoed out of the forest, and the bullets whined overhead. From the log, Carl fired three quick shots in response.
“Come and get them, if you want them!” he shouted. “We got plenty of ammunition, and we ain’t movin’.”
“Look behind you!” the deep disembodied voice called.
They all turned to see the dinosaur looking in their direction. When it stepped toward them Kishton kicked Ripman twice more.
Carl looked around wildly for another escape route, but Ellen could see they were trapped and hoped Carl was smart enough to see it too. They could move parallel to the forest until they were out of range of the gun, but there was no way to know that the man in the forest wouldn’t follow them. And it would be slow, and the dinosaur was getting better at walking through the fallen trees.
“What we gonna do, Carl? Maybe we better let them go?” Kishton offered hopefully.
“Let me think. Just shut up and let me think!”
Ellen was watching the dinosaur, afraid 1t was moving faster than Carl could think.
Carl finally shouted into the forest defiantly, “If we let them go, how do we know you’ll let us out of here before the dinosaur gets us?”
“Let the woman and the kid go. We have no interest in you.”
At the word we Ellen felt hope. Whoever they were, they couldn’t be any worse than Carl and the guys. Ripman, his head down, showed no reaction. Carl and Kishton were taking too much time. If they didn’t act soon they wouldn’t be able to release her and Ripman and make it to the forest themselves before the dinosaur caught up.
Footprints of Thunder Page 46
