Footprints of Thunder

by James F. David

  Ellen once again tried to distract Carl.

  “What happened to Kishton, he get away too?”

  “I’ll tell you what the fuck happened! It bit his head off, that’s what happened. But when it did I pumped five bullets into its brain. I killed that mother—twice as big as that other one—the one that got—”

  Carl’s eyes glazed over as he realized the last of his friends was dead. He was alone now, but in an instant his eyes refocused in a cold stare.

  “Carl, I’ll give you what you want. Just don’t hurt him,” Ellen pleaded.

  “Give? I’ll take what I want, and do what I want, when the hell I want to.”

  Carl swung his gun back to Ripman just as Cubby’s deep menacing voice came out of the trees to Ellen’s right.

  “Freeze, maggot, or I’ll blow you away.”

  Carl spun and fired twice toward the voice. As the second report sounded, another gun fired three times, the slugs ripping through the flesh of Carl’s back, pitching him forward. Ellen, stunned, tried to understand what had happened. Carl had fired at Cubby but Carl ended up shot dead from behind.

  Now Cubby emerged from the forest on Ellen’s right, and then John emerged from the left, holding the pistol. Waves of relief swept over Ellen followed by concern for John: Her child had killed.

  Ripman sent Cubby and John back to the clearing to retrieve Butler’s rifle and ammunition. While they were gone he used his hunting knife to cut three limbs the length of Ellen’s arm. Then he cut strips of cloth from Carl’s clothing. Ellen’s broken bone wasn’t protruding, so to Ellen’s relief, Ripman didn’t try to set it. The splint did nothing to relieve the pain, but the sling made it easier for her to immobilize it. Ripman finished the first aid just as they heard the motorcycle again.

  Ripman ran for Carl’s rifle and aimed it in the direction of the sound, but something was not right. The sound was approaching very slowly. Finally, Ripman shouted and pointed through the trees. Ellen had to stand to see above the ferns and grasses. Cubby was driving the bike, with John behind him, his arms around Cubby’s waist. It was clear Cubby was a novice on a motorcycle. The bike was in one of the high gears, and Cubby kept revving it, releasing the clutch, and lurching forward, almost losing John each time. Ripman shook his head, and then laughed.

  “Those bozos can’t even ride a motorcycle.”

  When they finally lurched up to Ripman he shook his head in appreciation.

  “You bozos finally did something right. Does it have much gas?”

  It turned out to have about a quarter of a tank. Not even Ripman had any idea how far that would take them. Since they couldn’t all ride the bike, Ellen insisted that Ripman take John and Cubby out first. John insisted Ellen go first, and Cubby protested going at all. He wanted to ride into Portland if they could find it.

  Cubby did agree that Ellen needed to get to a doctor and should go first. They then argued over who should have which weapons. Ellen wanted to take only the pistol. John insisted she take a rifle. Cubby agreed, pointing out that he and John had survived without a gun. Ripman muttered something about dumb luck under his breath, then sided with Ellen. With the bike they could outrun the dinos, so they would take just the pistol. Cubby and John didn’t want to stay with Carl’s body, it would attract scavengers. So the three boys scratched in the dirt working out a plan to rendezvous. Ripman started the bike as if he knew what he was doing, then Cubby and John helped Ellen on the back, John giving her shoulder a squeeze. It was too painful for Ellen to turn around, so she didn’t see her son waving good-bye.

  67. Out Of The Pit

  … the mountains shall be molten … and the valleys shall be cleft, as wax before the fire, like water rushing down a slope.

  —Micah1:4

  Warm Springs Indian Reservation, Oregon

  PostQuilt: Wednesday, 4:52 P.M. PST

  Petra, still wedged against the tree trunk, shivered uncontrollably. A bra and torn panties were inappropriate for an autumn day in Oregon. The sounds of splashing came from the lake. She wondered if more of those walking fish lived in the lake, and wished Dr. Coombs and Dr. Piltcher could have seen that fish. It walked, it breathed air, it swam under the water. Half-fish and half-mammal, it was some in-between species, like millions of other variant forms. As such it must have been ancient, much older than the dinosaurs onshore. Dr. Piltcher would have given his life to see it, but unfortunately he gave his life a little too soon.

  Determined not to spend another night with the dinosaurs, Petra climbed down, stiff from the cold, and worked her joints. When they were loose enough to let her run if she had to, she crept back toward the carcass.

  Petra approached from the back side again. It had been the least popular side.

  She was shocked when she saw the carcass. It had been hollowed out and stripped of most skin and flesh, leaving bare bones. A huge bloody pool lay around the bone pile and a dozen dinosaurs of different sizes surrounded the remains, gnawing on bones and digging pieces of bloody flesh from inside the carcass. One small dinosaur was peeling skin away from the head.

  Petra worried she had waited too long. They were digging deep into the carcass, and from the look of it they had emptied the chest cavity of every bit of soft tissue. Had they eaten clean through to Colter? Was he still alive under that bloody mess somewhere?

  Petra approached slowly, gun ready, walking out between the trees until the dinosaurs spotted her and froze. None of them was bigger than about ten feet. Apparently the giant dinosaurs had eaten their fill and moved off; still the ten-footers were terrifying. Sucking up her courage, she ran forward screaming at the top of her lungs. The sound was pitiful compared to those of the giant lizards, but it got their attention. She charged and just before she reached the nearest one fired a round into the air, the noise scattering the feeders. After Petra fired another round, they moved off a safe distance. Now to find Colter.

  “Colter? Colter?” she called. “Colter, are you still here somewhere?”

  Petra listened for a reply but heard none. She walked to the carcass, her feet squishing in the blood-soaked grass, and then reached out gingerly with one hand and pushed on one of the still standing ribs. It didn’t budge. Petra put her bare shoulder against it and pushed with all her strength. It still didn’t budge. The ribs were still attached to the backbone and weighed tons. She had no hope of moving it off Colter. There were only two choices now. Go back to digging, or climb inside and try to get through past the backbone. Petra peered into the carcass. Something was moving.

  She backed up, raising the rifle. The carcass began to rock ever so slightly, the still-hanging skin flapped with the movement. Then something rose out of the carcass, covered with blood and reddish mud. The figure rose, then slipped back only to rise again, grabbing on to the hanging skin and flopping over the side and out. Like some bizarre cesarean-born baby, Colter had emerged from the dinosaur.

  Hysterical, overwhelmed with joy, Petra ran to him and cradled his head in her lap. She wiped the blood from his face to see he was crying, then rocked him in her lap and cried with him. She continued to clean his face and head, but had nowhere to wipe the blood because it had soaked the ground too. Petra opened Colter’s torn shirt gently and realized some of the blood was his. There was a gash from above his left nipple running all the way to the right side. She looked closer to find perforations in his shirt along his left arm. A splinter was sticking out of one of the holes. Petra reached down and yanked the splinter out. That sharp jab, of pain made Colter stop sobbing and he complained instead. “Ouch. That hurts, Petra!”

  Petra laughed at him sadly. “Colter, you’ve got a gash across your chest. You’ve been buried alive under a dinosaur, and you’re complaining about a little splinter?”

  “Lots of splinters,” he replied. “I pulled out as many as I could reach.”

  “How did you survive down there?”

  “I nearly didn’t.” Colter paused, but he fought back his tears. “I got down flat when
it started to fall. It had dug out enough of a space for me, I guess. It jammed that limb down on me though. I think it broke a rib or two. That’s when I got the splinters.”

  Petra was going to ask about the stash across his chest, but Colter looked like he was trying not to remember some things, so she let him tell it his way.

  “I heard you outside and I tried digging out, but it was no use. I could hardly move. Then I heard the feeding start. You can’t believe how horrible it sounds from underneath. It was coming toward me.”

  Colter was getting louder and losing control over his emotions.

  Petra tried to calm him. “It’s okay now, Colter. You’re out.”

  “Then the blood started. It was just a wetness at first. I didn’t know what it was. It had a salty smell to it. It just kept coming, filling the hole I was in. Other body fluids too.”

  “Don’t think about it, Colter.”

  “I nearly drowned in it.”

  “Time to go, Colter.”

  “Oh God, it was horrible.”

  “The dinosaurs might come back, Colter.”

  “I want to go. I want to go out of here.”

  “Yes, Colter. Me too.”

  They stood, helping each other to their feet and then with Petra holding the rifle, they stumbled through the trees and back toward the RV. They leaned on each other, more for emotional support than physical.

  Monoclonius stood in the clearing, but they ignored the humans, allowing them to cross the clearing without incident, and then they were into the tall brush on the other side. Petra hated the brush. There was no visibility and they had too little energy to walk stealthily, so they crashed through it. Petra slowed when she saw the RV, Near it were two piles of bones. Then Petra urged Colter to go faster. As they walked, Petra scanned the clearing nervously for predators.

  The RV was close now. So close she began to feel its safety. It could take them away, and she wanted that badly, and the more she wanted it the more she feared something would snatch it away again. At the door of the RV Petra pushed Colter up and inside. Then with a last nervous look around she climbed in, vowing not to leave the vehicle until she was safe with other people.

  Colter handed her a quart of orange juice and raised a second quart to his lips, drinking down huge gulps. Petra drank half of her juice without pause. After a couple more swallows, Colter walked into the back of the RV and collapsed on the bed. Petra started back to join him but jumped back in fear as something came out from under a pile of blankets—Sarah. Petra had forgotten about the little dinosaur. It stared at her, but unlike earlier, she didn’t seem panicked by Petra’s presence. Then to Petra’s surprise Sarah waddled over and banged into Colter’s dangling legs.

  “Petra,” Colter moaned. “Feed them will ya?”

  Opening the fridge, Petra pulled out an apple and rolled it to Sarah. Then Moose launched himself from the top of the cabinet, landed next to Colter, and then jumped down to the floor. Petra sliced up another apple, and he quickly carried a piece to his place on top of the cabinets. Petra was amazed by the little dinosaur’s new confidence. They had lost all fear of people.

  She flopped down next to Colter, lying on her back with one arm over her face, and both were soon asleep. When Petra awoke she found Moose sleeping next to Colter on the other side, but when she stirred the little animal scrambled up the wall and to his hiding place.

  Petra propped herself up with one elbow and looked down at Colter. His face was caked with blood and red mud, so she got up, soaked a towel with water and began to clean his face. He woke and stared at her blankly.

  “Colter, you’re coated with … well, why don’t you take your clothes off? You’re a mess.”

  Colter nodded and sat up, unbuttoning his shirt. Now Petra could see the wound on his chest more clearly. It was deep, crusted with dried blood, and should have been stitched. But at least it didn’t seem to be oozing, so Petra decided it would heal. Colter slipped out of his bloody pants and shorts and put on a clean pair of pants and a T-shirt that he dug out of a cupboard.

  Petra looked at her own body. She wasn’t as severely injured as Colter, but blood and dirt were all over her. Petra used the wet towel to wipe off as much of the grime as she could, and then took off her bra and bloody panties to wipe the rest of herself. Petra felt scabs on her bottom.

  “Here, let me,” Colter said, holding out his hand for the towel.

  Petra was momentarily embarrassed. He was fully clothed and she was naked, and she felt helpless. Still, she turned and let him help her.

  “It’s not too bad,” he assured her.

  “Good. Give me some of my clothes to put on.”

  Petra turned, covering her small breasts with her arms as Colter stared at her with a strange look on his face.

  “Well … I …”

  Colter never got to finish. Something rattled behind him. He turned and looked for what was making the noise in the front of the RV. Petra cringed behind Colter as they walked forward, looking for the sound.

  Colter stooped, reaching down to a cabinet door near the floor, hesitated and then yanked it open. A baby dinosaur rolled out, its lower half still in the eggshell. About a foot long, its skin was the bright green of spring leaves. The wet little baby had a small flexible neck collar and a short stubby tail, its snout tipped with a small hooked horn. It was clearly a baby monoclonius.

  Colter reached down and pulled the rest of the eggshell away and then wiped it with the towel he had been using on Petra’s bottom.

  “It’s cute, isn’t it, Colter?”

  “Cute now, sure. It won’t be so cute when it weighs a few tons.”

  Colter picked it up and handed it to Petra. It was heavier than it looked and wriggled in her grasp.

  “What do we feed it?”

  “I dunno. Probably some mashed fruit. Maybe some milk. Moose and Sarah seem to eat everything.”

  “We’ll figure that out in a minute.” Petra put the baby down on Sarah’s blanket, and she sniffed at the baby, but wasn’t hostile. Then turning to Colter Petra said, “First, where are my clothes?”

  “Well … you see I was kind of upset when I thought you were dead. I mean, I didn’t know you were alive. How did you get away from that fish anyway?”

  “Don’t change the subject. Where are my clothes?”

  “I kind of threw them away.”

  “Colter! Why would you do that?”

  Finally he got the courage to look Petra in the eyes and tell her.

  “Your things kept reminding me of you, and how you were dead and stuff. It was too hard for me. It hurt pretty bad.”

  Tears welled up in Petra’s eyes. It was only a couple of sentences but Petra knew the rest of what he could never say. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him, and then pretended to be mad at him.

  “Oh great. Someone dies and you immediately hold a garage sale. What am I supposed to do for clothes?”

  “I like you the way you are.”

  “1 don’t like being the only one naked.”

  “I can fix that,” Colter offered.

  “Don’t bother. Neither of us is in any shape for that.”

  Petra turned and opened several cabinets until she found one of Colter’s sweatshirts and pulled it over her head. Though it hung down covering her bottom, she still felt exposed and she never wanted to feel that way again. Colter’s pants were way too big, but she put on a pair of his boxer shorts. The flap gaped open when she tried sitting in them, so she found a safety pin and pinned it closed. It would have to do until she could get to a town.

  Then Petra opened a can of peaches and mashed them up, pushing spoonfuls into the baby dinosaur’s mouth. It chewed reflexively. When Petra was sure it had swallowed enough, she poured in some of the juice from the can. Most ran down its neck and pooled in the collar. Colter watched the feeding with amusement.

  “Moose and Sarah aren’t this sloppy,” Colter said.

  “It’s just a widdle thing,” Pe
tra said in baby talk.

  “Just what are you gonna call the little orphan?”

  Petra set the can of peaches to the side and put the little dinosaur on the floor. The baby got to its feet and wobbled a few steps. Then it stopped and licked at the peach juice on its chin.

  “Well, what if we call her Peaches?”

  “Her?”

  “Her until we know better. We should get a bottle somewhere for this poor thing.”

  He rolled his eyes, nodded, and moved to the driver’s seat and started the engine. Petra sat down in the passenger seat gingerly, holding the sleeping baby dinosaur in her lap. Now that she was rested, she was beginning to feel every bruise, cut, and aching muscle. Colter, she knew, was feeling his pain as well.

  They were about to leave when they heard the sound of padding feet. Petra flinched when Moose scrambled up the dash and stretched out in the window. Sarah waddled forward and looked perturbed that Petra had taken her place, so instead she curled up on the floor between the seats. Petra and Colter looked at each other and smiled.

  “Well, honey,” Colter said. “It’s been quite a vacation.”

  “Yes, dear,” Petra replied. “But the kids are exhausted. Let’s go home.”

  Then they drove away from the clearing and back up the road.

  68. Choices

  In the age of no time, what came before will come again, and what is yet to come, will come before. I do not understand it myself, hut I know it will be heralded by a great fire.

  —Zorastrus, Prophet of Babylon

  Forest, former site of Portland, Oregon

  PostQuilt: Wednesday, 5:05 P.M. PST

  They walked with a new confidence. Someone watching would say it was the rifles that gave them confidence; a store-bought, machine-made and polished confidence. But this was homemade confidence. Everything and nothing in their experience had prepared them for what they had gone through over the last few days, but what they found inside had been enough, even more than enough.