Footprints of Thunder

by James F. David

  Kyle found no comfort in the thought of Murphy and his men blasting away over his head.

  “Murphy, when we’re up there I don’t want any cover fire. I don’t want any fire at all. I don’t want to risk a ricochet or bringing some of that mountain down in an avalanche.”

  Murphy didn’t exactly disagree, so Kyle began hauling the climbing gear over to the mountain. As he walked a man separated from the crowd and joined him, a tall thin pale man with black-rimmed glasses. He obviously had something to say. “It’s not a condor.”

  “What?”

  “I said, it’s not a condor. I got here just before those fools over there shot the first one.” The pale man jerked his head toward the two civilians with rifles, who began following within earshot. “Those two brainless wonders blew the wing off a living, breathing pterosaur.”

  Kyle stopped in his tracks and stared at the man. “What are you talking about? Are you trying to tell me it was a dinosaur? A pterodactyl?”

  “Certainly not. It was too big to be a pterodactyl. Surely it was part of the pterosaur family, but it most assuredly wasn’t a pterodactyl. More likely it was a pteranodon. They were much bigger. Cretaceous period, I believe.”

  Kyle stared incredulously as the pale man continued talking. “It was magnificent. So graceful in the air, and so huge. Nature’s finest flying creation, perfectly designed to conserve every ounce of energy. The aerodynamics involved stagger the imagination. You see as the wingspan increases, the weight increases exponentially. Theoretically anything this big shouldn’t fly at all. Even with the hollow bone structure. But it uses the surface area of its wings to maximize use of the thermal—”

  “What about the little girl?” Kyle cut in.

  “Well, they were most likely scavengers. Carrion eaters. I imagine that little girl was too tempting a target to ignore, just small enough to lift off the ground. The way it swept down and grabbed her … nature’s perfect flying machine. And those two men shot it. They should be shot, not that beautiful pteranodon.” Kyle couldn’t stand it. He turned and walked back to the two men with guns.

  “You the two that shot that thing?” The two nodded nervously. “Well, I’m going up there to see if that little girl’s all right and when I get back I want to punch that man,” he said, pointing at the pale one behind him. “Just in case I don’t come back, will you see that it gets done?”

  The two men looked at each other and then smiled. The pale man turned even paler and then walked hurriedly toward the crowd, the two following.

  What had the jerk called it? Kyle wondered. A pteranodon? Kyle had heard strange reports of disasters coming through the station house, but they were explainable. But what could explain dinosaurs flying around?

  When Jay and Kimberly carried the rest of the equipment to the base of the mountain, Kyle tried to examine the rock face. It would be an easy climb over the boulders and loose rock at the bottom, but above that the rock face quickly became vertical. Shirley returned from talking to the mother while he was still mapping his climbing route.

  “She’s terrified. We’d better get up there quick and settle this one way or another.” Shirley looked up to the overhang where the girl had disappeared. “We can do this free climb.”

  “No we can’t,” Kyle responded quickly.

  Shirley looked at him and raised her eyebrows.

  “There’s two of them, remember? We want to be anchored if the other one comes after us.”

  Sure that Shirley saw right through him, Kyle quickly changed the subject.

  “Not only that, but that guy back there,” he said nodding to the pale man, “well, he said the bird up there was a dinosaur. Really! He called it a pteranodon.”

  “No such thing, Officer Kyle.”

  “You think a condor could lift a little girl?”

  “Depends on how much she weighs,” Shirley said thoughtfully. “But I doubt it in this case. Chrissy is three years old. I’ll bet she weighs thirty pounds.”

  “Then what lifted her up this mountain?”

  Shirley frowned, then turned to Kyle with an infectious smile.

  “I give up. Let’s go see.”

  “Another thing, Shirley. I want you to take a gun.”

  “No thanks. I don’t know how to use one anyway. I’d probably end up shooting you. I’ll take the first aid pack,” she said holding out her hand.

  Kyle had no intention of getting shot, so he quickly agreed with Shirley. The first part would be a free climb through the loose rock and boulders. Then they would take separate routes up the face, setting pitons. Once the first piton was set Jay and Kimberly could belay their fall. Because of the size difference it was decided. Jay would act as belayer for Kyle and Kimberly for Shirley.

  Kyle stood at the base of the mountain, running over his training in his mind. His climbing skills were a tool, not a hobby, and seldom used. Shirley and the others, however, spent weekends scaling mountains for fun.

  When Kimberly and Jay were ready, Kyle followed Shirley, who was scrambling up the boulders to the beginning of the rock face. Kyle followed easily enough but found himself breathing hard when he caught up with her. Shirley was examining the rock above her and mapping her route. Kyle picked a spot thirty feet from Shirley and checked the rock face. It would be easier for Shirley. The cracks weren’t made for a size eleven climbing boot.

  “Climbing!”

  Kyle turned to see Shirley with her toe fitted into a crack about knee high.

  “Hey, Shirley!” Kyle called, stopping her before she could get started. “You like movies?” Shirley nodded her head and smiled like she’d just been asked out on a date.

  “Me too. I saw one once with a dinosaur like that one up there in it,” Kyle said, jerking his thumb upward.

  Shirley looked at him quizzically. “What happened?”

  “It swooped down and swallowed a person whole.”

  Shirley shook her head, then smiled and patted her own bottom.

  “Race you to the top, Officer Kyle.”

  Kyle yelled, “Climbing!” and Jay’s “climb” followed immediately. Kyle jammed his right toes into a good-size crack and then felt for others wide enough to grip with his fingers. When he found a satisfactory one he pulled himself up, ready to set his other foot.

  Kyle made good progress. He was fifteen feet up when he noticed that Shirley was ahead of him. He managed a couple more steps before he heard Shirley yell “slack,” and set her first anchor. Kyle picked up his pace and climbed to a spot a few feet above Shirley’s anchor to set his own. He clipped a D carabiner to it and passed his rope through the spring catch. A wave of relief came as he realized his fall would now be limited by the anchor.

  Only after his third anchor was Kyle climbing ahead of Shirley, which gave him great satisfaction. They continued seesawing up the rock face, setting pitons, clipping carabiners, and looping kermantle. As they approached the outcropping they angled in toward it with one of them on either side. Twenty feet below the ledge Kyle motioned for Shirley to stop and be quiet. He listened intently but heard nothing—no little girl, no prehistoric bird.

  They proceeded up on either side of the outcrop, neither willing to hammer in a piton this close to the pteranodon. Now Kyle and Shirley had to climb out and up, and they lost sight of each other. As Kyle neared the top he debated whether to pop up suddenly, jump onto the ledge, and then pull his gun, or peek over the top slowly. He decided on slow and cautious. Caution was natural for Kyle.

  He found toeholds and fingerholds and then slowly pulled his head above the rim of the outcrop. The first thing he saw was the massive head of the pteranodon—six feet of it lying against Kyle’s rock. Two enormous eyes were set in the middle of the spear-shaped face. Kyle sighed with relief when he saw the eyes were closed.

  The pteranodon’s wings filled nearly the entire ledge, concealing the little girl. Across the other side of the ledge he saw Shirley. First her eyes appeared searching for the child. Then she stared at th
e pteranodon, caught Kyle’s eye, shook her head in disbelief, and mouthed, “Is it dead?” Kyle mouthed back, “I think so.” Shirley nodded, and then pushed herself up a little higher and took hold of the collapsed wing of the pteranodon. As she lifted it, stretching it out so that she could look under it for the little girl, the creature blew air through the nostrils in its beak.

  Kyle dropped his head down and froze. It was alive. He thought about shooting it, but he couldn’t and still hang on.

  Kyle pulled his head up again to find himself staring at the back of the pteranodon’s head. It had moved; its head was up now and its beak pointed at Shirley. The crest that protruded out the back was inches from Kyle’s face. Kyle followed the creature’s stare to Shirley, who had lifted the wing and was looking under the membrane for the little girl. As she started to lift another piece of wing, she looked up to find the pteranodon staring at her, and she froze. Kyle decided to grab the crest and hold the bird. He made sure his feet were secure, detached his rope and secured it in the rock, and pushed up slowly with his legs.

  When Shirley started to lower the bird’s wing, the pteranodon’s mouth opened in a high-pitched screech. Then it lunged at Shirley, using its beak like a spear. Shirley flinched, bringing her hands up to deflect the thrust, but the bird was too fast—as her hands grasped the beak, the momentum of the thrust carried the beak into her chest, knocking her over the edge. Controlling his panic, Kyle reacted by pushing himself up and flopping onto the ledge. As soon as Kyle’s chest hit the rock, the pteranodon twisted to look at him. The crest was suddenly out of Kyle’s reach and he found himself staring down the three-foot beak into a pair of black, angry eyes.

  The bird screeched again and began hopping, its unfolded left wing partially obscuring Kyle’s view. Kyle pulled both legs up onto the ledge as the pteranodon hopped trying to get at him. It was handicapped by its huge wingspan and its crippled wing. Now it began beating at Kyle with its good wing. Then the bird lunged again.

  Kyle, stumbling backward, tripped over loose rock, falling against the cliff wall. The bird danced around and Kyle saw the beak coming at his stomach. He leapt sideways and grabbed the beak with both hands, holding it closed. The huge wings slapped at his body and face, but he kept his head down and let his shoulders absorb the blows. He was gaining confidence when something tore through his shirt and sliced the skin on his right shoulder.

  In sudden pain, Kyle realized the creature had small clawed feet attached to its wing. Wincing, Kyle maneuvered himself to his left and away from the good wing, in a frantic dance with the pteranodon, keeping it at arm’s length. Around and around they went until the partners collapsed in exhaustion.

  Still, Kyle held on, feeling the deep, rapid breaths coming out of its nostrils.

  He was still considering the options when he heard a voice.

  “I want my mommy.”

  Kyle looked around but couldn’t see where the voice was coming from.

  “Chrissy? Where are you, honey?”

  “I’m here. I hurt.”

  Kyle could hear the voice, but the wing was blocking his view. Desperately, he searched vainly for an option. Then Shirley’s head appeared.

  She pulled herself up over the ledge, flopped onto her stomach and then rolled to her back, smiling.

  “I saw you dancing with that thing, Officer Kyle. And while on duty too. You two made such a lovely couple,” she drawled sarcastically.

  Kyle felt foolish but spoke authoritatively. “The little girl’s here somewhere, I heard her voice. See if you can find her.”

  Shirley nodded and crawled to look under the massive wings, then poked her head up and looked at Kyle mischievously. “Hey, Kyle, give me a hand, will you?”

  When she picked up the wing, the pteranodon began twisting sideways.

  “Mommy?”

  At the sound, Shirley abruptly turned around and crawled to the cliff wall, reaching for the broken wing.

  Kyle tightened his grip. When Shirley lifted the bird’s injured wing, Kyle could feel the bird’s whole body shudder. Now Shirley lay on her stomach looking down into a crack between the ledge and the cliff wall.

  “Hello, Chrissy,” she said. “Your mommy sent us to get you.”

  “I hurt.”

  “Where, Chrissy? Where do you hurt?”

  “Here. And here.”

  In the dim light, Shirley could see the child’s gestures.

  “I’ll be right back, Chrissy,” Shirley said soothingly. “She’s in pretty good shape,” she announced. She rolled to face Kyle. “Some cuts and abrasions. Her shoulder looks the worst, but her arm’s hurt too.” Looking at Kyle and the pteranodon, she frowned.

  “Since you’ve got your hands full, I guess I’ll take care of her.”

  “Shirley, get my gun and shoot it. Then I can help.”

  Shirley thought it over for a second, and then shook her head.

  “I don’t know how to use it. Besides, you’ve got it under control. Why kill it?”

  Shirley grinned. Then she rolled over, reached down into the hole and began checking Chrissy’s injuries while Kyle watched helplessly. After a few minutes she slowly pulled the child out of the crack, pausing to reassure Chrissy when she began to cry.

  Chrissy started to sit up, but Shirley restrained the child, talking soothingly as she splinted the right arm, put it in a sling, and tied it across Chrissy’s chest. Next she bandaged a wound on Chrissy’s head, then cut away at her shirt, exposing the injured shoulder. It was caked in dried blood and Shirley shook her head. She was still looking at the injury when a shadow passed over the ledge.

  Kyle looked up to see another pteranodon. The newcomer looked like a 727 orbiting above them.

  “We’ve got company, Shirley.”

  Shirley didn’t pause. Instead she quickly bandaged the shoulder and then got Chrissy to the edge and propped her up.

  “Kyle, we don’t need a backboard, so I’m going to take her down myself.” Then Shirley looked up at the circling pteranodon. “Maybe you could hold one in each hand.”

  A shot rang out, followed by a ricochet. The captive pteranodon began twisting and turning and Kyle tightened his grip until it settled down. Waving her hands, Shirley stood up slowly, leaning out over the ledge to shout. “No firing! We’re coming down! We’ve got the little girl.”

  Kyle knew the last sentence would mean new hope to a mother down in the clearing. Shirley pulled Chrissy to her chest and began crisscrossing kermantle to secure her. Kyle watched helplessly, his frustration growing with each second. Another shadow passed over them. Kyle looked up to see the pteranodon closer than before. The shadow passed twice more, growing bigger each time. “It’s coming,” Kyle warned.

  Shirley ignored him and finished strapping the little girl firmly to her chest, the injured arm safely tucked between her own and Chrissy’s body.

  “Gotta go now. Hang in there, I’ll be back.”

  Kyle was about to answer when the second pteranodon swooped low over the edge, knocking Shirley backward onto a loose pile of rocks. Shirley gasped with pain. The fall set off spasms of pain in Chrissy, who began sobbing wildly. Desperate, Kyle got to his feet and began dragging the pteranodon toward the edge. If he couldn’t shoot it, and if he couldn’t let go of it, he was going to throw it over the ledge. Sensing the danger, the pteranodon renewed its struggle. For Kyle, this wasn’t a dance, it was a tug of war. The pteranodon used its good wing to push back and beat at Kyle, but it was losing the fight, and Kyle pulled it closer to the ledge. As he struggled, Shirley slid over the side and disappeared. Kyle took another step and stumbled over a rock, falling to his knees but holding on to the bird. He was ready to stand when a rush of wind behind him announced the other pteranodon. Then he felt a jab of pain.

  The second one had stabbed him in the butt with its beak. Kyle flinched and screamed, letting go of the first to protect himself from the attacker. When he released its bill the dinosaur tumbled backward, finally winning the tu
g of war. Kyle turned in time to dodge another jab, stumbling backward and falling onto his wounded behind. Both birds now screamed simultaneously, deafeningly, but he picked up a rock and hit the pteranodon who had stabbed him. Spreading its mammoth wings, it launched itself off the edge, only to float back up and hover, looking down. Kyle remembered his pistol and fired, punching an insignificant hole in the webbing. The sound drove the pteranodon off, and it floated out of sight.

  Kyle turned to race the injured pteranodon, his pistol still in his hand. But when he swung around, the pteranodon was thrusting at him with its beak. As Kyle brought his arms up to deflect the jab, the dinosaur’s mouth opened revealing rows of needlelike teeth, and then closed them over his gun arm just above the wrist. Then the dinosaur jerked its head back. When it did Kyle pulled his arm out, the rows of teeth shredding three inches of skin. Overwhelmed by pain, Kyle dropped his gun—just as the pteranodon jabbed into Kyle’s sternum, knocking the wind out of him. The beak stabbed once more, jamming between two ribs. Kyle grabbed the beak and pushed it back. His bottom, chest, and wrist were throbbing, and he was in a fight for his life. The adrenalin poured into his system. Then he stood and dragged the pteranodon toward the edge again.

  Twisting savagely, Kyle pulled the beak close to his chest, flexing his arms, and threw the dinosaur away from him. Only the good wing held it to the ledge, its body suspended in air. Kyle walked to the edge, ready to break the wing with his boot and send it over, but he paused. It was truly helpless now and no threat to him, except that it was hanging over his rope. He was considering a different way down when he heard Chrissy scream.

  Kyle raised his boot and broke the wing with a quick stomp. Shrieking, the dinosaur dropped over the edge, fluttering and twisting in the air until it hit the rocks; then it lay silent and motionless.

  Kyle leaned out looking for Shirley and Chrissy but couldn’t see them. The ledge must still be obscuring his view, he hoped fervently. But now the other pteranodon floated by below him, circled, and headed back toward the cliff. He heard another scream when it disappeared, but then it floated below him again. Kyle looked back for his gun. When he started away from the edge to find it, another scream spun him in his tracks.