Footprints of Thunder

by James F. David

  John’s mother came out of the bedroom to make a cup of tea. Her right arm was in a cast, which she carried in a sling. He watched her until he was sure she could handle fixing the tea one-handed. The hotshot’s noise drowned out the sound of the TV.

  Ellen was more animated now than when she had learned of her husband’s death, but her grief was still compounded by the fact she had been angry the last time she saw him. She couldn’t make peace with him now and would live the rest of her life with that knowledge.

  They couldn’t get through to John’s sister, Carolyn, until after her father had been buried. It wouldn’t have mattered though. Civilian air travel was restricted. Ellen offered to bury Colonel Conrad next to John’s father and include Angie’s name on the marker, but the military took charge of Colonel Conrad’s body. John remembered vividly his mother sobbing as she explained what had happened to Colonel Conrad’s wife, and after that Ellen had been more depressed than ever.

  With her tea, his mother sat on the other end of the couch watching the TV. The constant repetition couldn’t hold her attention any better than it held John’s, and her eyes wandered to the window and the distant ocean. But that only reminded her of more death. Animal carcasses mixed with debris had begun washing ashore. The carcasses were victims of nature’s recycling process and hard to identify. Some of them were dinosaurs, of course, but with live ones loose in the countryside, the carcasses received scant attention. At their beach house, John’s parents used to walk the shore endlessly, occasionally collecting glass floats or unusual pieces of driftwood. To walk the Oregon beaches now, though, was to risk an encounter with the bloated remains of a prehistoric animal, victim of something they could never conceive of. Most sickening of all was the realization that somewhere in time there were undoubtedly human bodies washing ashore in the same condition.

  The sound of a car outside distracted them. They had few friends at the coast, since they were weekenders, and no one had come by to see them since they moved in.

  John opened the door and stepped back with the shock. Cubby’s van was parked behind Angie’s Jeep. The glare on the tinted windows prevented John from seeing inside. Behind him he heard his mother’s gasp of recognition. The driver’s door opened, and Ripman stepped out, grinning sheepishly. They smiled at Ripman and then turned and watched the other door. Ripman lost his grin.

  “He’s not with me. I looked for Cubby after the … light, bombs, whatever. I never found him. Never found Portland either. It’s really gone now.”

  Ripman stayed by the car, making no move toward them, seeming uncertain. John felt his mother’s hand oh his shoulder and stepped aside to let her pass. She walked around the car toward Ripman. He stepped back, but she kept coming, wrapping her good arm around him in a big hug. Ripman’s hands went up, but he couldn’t bring himself to hug her back. His face went red, but the smile returned.

  “What’s the matter, Ripman?” John teased. “A hug is as elemental as things get.”

  “Screw you,” Ripman mouthed over Ellen’s shoulder.

  “Up yours,” John replied silently.

  Ripman looked at John and mouthed the word “El-ah-mental,” then let his hands fall and hugged Ellen back.

  70. The New Country

  South Oregon Coast

  The New World

  Petra was driving while Colter dozed in the seat next to her. Peaches was cuddled in his arms and Moose was settled on his shoulder. Sarah was on her blanket beneath his feet. Petra guided the battered camper down a forest service access road not marked on many maps. The dirt road was poorly maintained and filled with deep ruts and huge mud puddles, and Petra could do no more than twenty-five miles per hour. Colter found the road, remembering it from deer hunting. The main roads were filled with confused people or blocked by state police who were restricting travel.

  Petra found herself driving along a hill so steep it was indistinguishable from a cliff. Some tractor driver had carved a road across the middle. Tons of debris littered the lower side of the hill, which dropped sharply to a creek. Rockslides covered parts of the road. Petra snaked around rock piles, fearful of triggering another rock fall. Once across she cornered left around a huge boulder, following the road as it dropped off sharply. Suddenly she was out of the forest into a clear-cut, those great ugly scars that peppered Oregon’s great forests. Clear-cut is a funny name, thought Petra, Sure, the towering firs were gone giving a clear view of the sky, but nothing resembling a clearing was left behind. The “clear-cut” was filled with massive stumps, limbs shaved from the fallen ancients, and junk timber felled to reduce the competition for sunlight for the newly planted fir seedlings.

  The road led down to the creek, which flowed over and around boulders creating a swirling frothing stream. Petra found herself hypnotized by the creek and slowed to enjoy it. Something moved in the trees on the far side and Petra stopped to watch. Peaches lifted her head briefly, looked around, and then snuggled into a new position. Colter and Moose never moved. Petra understood. She slept like the dead now too. Her body was still replenishing and renewing itself, and the poor little dinosaurs had little energy in the cool weather.

  Then a doe walked out of the forest and down to the stream for a drink. The deer stared at the RV long and hard before it finally dropped its head and drank. Petra watched with an odd feeling. Something as normal as a deer now seemed strange to her. Petra had been in the company of dinosaurs for too long; she longed for mammals.

  Suddenly the deer’s head snapped up, its oversized ears erect and cocked sideways. Out of the shadows of the forest came something ancient—something no deer had ever contended with. It was five feet high, lizard green, and ran on two large back legs. The body of the animal was small compared to the massive head. The deer jumped but wasn’t up to running speed before the jaws of the dinosaur tore into the flesh of its neck. The deer went down in a tumble with the dinosaur, rolling once and ending their struggle in the stream.

  There had never been any doubt about the outcome. When the deer stopped thrashing the dinosaur dragged its kill from the stream to the shore and only then released the death grip of its jaws. The dinosaur examined its kill, licking its lips, perhaps tasting the blood of a mammal for the first time. Then the dinosaur began its meal. Petra had no desire to watch another bloody feast, so she put the RV in gear and gave it some gas. When the engine revved the dinosaur looked up and watched the RV drive away.

  Petra continued down the road, now aware the forests of Oregon were a different place. The radio reports told of patches of prehistoric land here and there all over the state. The dinosaurs must be exploring the turf of the mammals. There were no fences to prevent it, and no fence would stop some of those dinosaurs. The question now was could they live in this new climate? Oregon winters were mild along the coast, not like east of the Cascade Mountains. Certainly dinosaurs in Florida or closer to the equator could live, but Oregon’s dinosaur would struggle. Petra wondered if the government would try to kill them or save them. All levels of government were working on survival—restoring transportation for food and fuel, restoring communication, and restoring order. But soon it would have to deal with the marauding dinosaurs.

  The dirt road intersected a gravel road. A forest service sign directed Petra to the left, and soon she had the RV up to forty miles per hour. Even at that speed the gravel pounded away at the underside of the RV. Still her little family slept, oblivious to the rock rhythm being pounded out on the floorboard. After they drove through a couple of miles of forest, the road intersected blacktop, which led through a small valley dotted with dairy farms. Dairy cows watched with disinterested eyes from behind barbed wire fences as the RV passed. Petra left the valley and entered another stretch of woodland, winding up a hill and then back down. As she started down she could see the ocean ahead. They were almost there.

  Petra lost sight of the ocean as she wound down the hill and through the woods again, but then suddenly there was the coast highway, and there o
n the other side was the Pacific Ocean, Petra felt a sudden sense of freedom cleanse her soul. She could almost forget what had happened to her, and to the others. She always felt this way by the ocean—renewed, or at least recharged. Petra turned left, heading south. There were few cars on the road. Gas was rationed and only necessary trips were taken. The RV was an obscene use of fuel, but it served as both home and transportation. Petra had asked Colter how he managed to get its three fuel tanks filled, but he had only smiled and mumbled something about the golden rule.

  Petra gave the RV more gas and soon was doing fifty miles per hour. Colter stirred, disturbing Moose, who scrambled from Colter’s shoulder to his place on the dash. Soon Colter’s eyes flickered open. He remained slumped in the seat for a minute and then pushed .himself up. Peaches still cuddled in his arms. When he was upright he discovered the ocean.

  “All right, we made it. How far is it?”

  “We’re almost there.”

  Colter watched the ocean in silence for a few minutes, stroking Peaches’s head. The baby dinosaur kept its eyes closed but make a little squeaking sound with each stroke. Colter scratched behind its little collar eliciting more squeaking, then he leaned over and put Peaches on the blanket next to Sarah and went into the back of the RV. Petra heard the refrigerator open.

  “Petra, want a Pepsi?”

  “I’ll split one with you,” Petra offered:

  Colter came back with two cans of Pepsi, opened one and put it on the dash.

  “Drink as much as you can; I’ll finish the rest.”

  Petra shook her head. “Colter, we better start taking it easy on some of this stuff. You’ve heard all the reports on the shortages and all the rationing.”

  “They aren’t rationing pop.”

  “That’s because it’s not a necessity.”

  “That’s what you think.”

  Colter opened his can and swigged down half of it. When he was done, he saw her watching him, and frowned. “All right, from now on you’re in charge of supplies,” he said.

  “I don’t want to be in charge, I just want you to take it easy.”

  “I want you to be in charge. You know, and I know, I don’t have any self-control.”

  Petra could see he was serious—he was asking for her help. This was a new Colter. She knew she would never be the same person, but she had wondered about Colter. She appreciated his new self-awareness but hoped some of the reckless courage and other traits remained. She had fallen in love with the old Colter. Then he opened his mouth and loosed a long, loud belch. Yes, some of the old Colter remained.

  The sun was nearing the horizon when they came to the turnoff and followed the road around a hill to the parking area, The lot sat on a little bluff overlooking the ocean. A narrow gray sand beach separated the ocean from the massive piles of driftwood directly below. There was one other car in the parking lot but looked abandoned. Colter opened the door, and the cool sea air rushed in, cleansing the RV of animal smells. When the door opened Moose quickly retreated deeper into the RV out of the cool air. Sarah roused herself from her blanket and waddled down the aisle to the back. Petra picked up Peaches and found a snug corner for her next to Sarah. Sarah wriggled around until she was comfortable with Peaches next to her.

  Petra could hear Colter outside getting the shovel. She pulled the blue and white plastic cooler out of the cabinet and checked the contents again. It was all there. Petra closed the cooler and headed for the door. When she reached it she turned and went back for the rifle, then joined Colter outside. The air was cool and the sky overcast. When was the sky not overcast at the Oregon coast Petra reminded herself.

  “What’s the rifle for?” Colter asked.

  “In case there’s any deer hunting going on. Never mind, I’ll explain later.”

  Colter shrugged his shoulders and said impatiently, “Let’s get this over with.”

  Two paths led from the parking lot. One well-traveled path led to the beach, but the other path wound up the hill into the trees. Colter followed the path uphill. It was a gentle climb, marked frequently with signs identifying the vegetation. A quarter mile up the trail they left the path, turning into the trees. Soon they could see the ocean again on their right and a rocky cliff to their left. Colter stopped by a small fir tree, looking out to sea, and then turned and looked at the cliff. Then he walked to another young fir, looking again in all four directions.

  “This is the spot, right.”

  Petra stepped behind the fir and looked out to sea, lining the fir up with a large rock formation just offshore. Then she stepped to the other side and lined the fir up with a large crack in the rocks of the cliff behind them. Finally she stood to one side and made sure the fir lined up with a notch in the distant hills.

  “Yeah, this is the spot.”

  Colter stood with his back to the tree and then took two steps toward the sea.

  “About six feet?”

  “Close enough.”

  Colter began digging with the shovel. The ground was moist and soft but there were many rocks,‘and the digging wasn’t easy. When Colter looked disgusted and ready to call it deep enough, Petra took the shovel and dug. That shamed Colter into digging again. Finally, he buried the tip of the shovel in the ground next to the hole and turned to Petra.

  “I say that’s three feet deep.”

  Petra agreed but held back the cooler when Colter reached for it. Opening it she checked the contents one last time. Inside was a record of what had happened. There were newspaper clippings about the disasters and the sudden appearance of dinosaurs and the sudden disappearance of people. There were also articles about the bombing of Portland and the debate over whether Portland had been destroyed or not. There were many articles about the dinosaurs and the problems they were creating. Of all the items in the cooler, however, the most important was a history Colter and Petra had written of all that had happened to them and the group. They wrote of the group’s meeting with Kenny Randall and his strange story of corn falling from the sky. They wrote of the group’s research, and their discovery of Zorastrus. They described the model Kenny and Phat had programmed and their search for confirming evidence. They told the story of a boy who nearly drowned in saltwater in the middle of a prairie and of Yellowstone and the ice falling from the sky. Then after recapping the before events they told in even more detail what happened next. How they had divided into groups to be as widely dispersed as possible when it happened. They told of losing contact with Mrs. Wayne and Ernie Powell. They told of their search for their friends and the discovery of the dinosaurs. They told of their discoveries, especially Sid, Moose, Sarah, and Peaches. Then in painful detail they talked of the death of Dr. Coombs and Dr. Piltcher. Colter wrote of his adventures and Petra of her time in the walking fish’s den. When every painful detail was down they had taken the record, made three copies of it, and sealed them in plastic. The first copy had been buried in Dr. Piltcher’s backyard. The second was in a small cave east of Medford, and the third copy would be buried here, by the sea. Like the other two copies it would be buried in a plastic cooler. Dr. Piltcher had assured everyone the plastic would last for centuries.

  When Petra was sure the record was complete she put it in the cooler, latched the top securely, and placed it in the hole, Colter filled the hole in a little at a time, compressing the earth as he filled by stomping on it. Soon the hole was firmly packed with earth. Colter took the shovel and scattered the leftover dirt into the trees. Then he spread pine needles and dried leaves over the hole. Finally he pried a nearby rock out of the ground and placed the rock on top of the buried cooler. When he was done he looked to Petra for affirmation.

  “Good enough,” she said.

  Colter picked up his shovel and Petra the rifle and the two of them started back down the path. The clouds had broken up, letting the setting sun peek through, but the air was cool and evaporated the sweat from Petra’s body, making her shiver gently. Colter put his arm around her shoulder and they wa
lked together, their arms around each other. There was no hurry, they had nowhere to go.

  “Petra,” Colter said softly, not wanting to break the feeling they were sharing. “Do you really think anyone will ever dig that up?”

  “If Dr. Piltcher was right, then the others may be digging it up right now.”

  “Right now? They disappeared, remember?”

  “I mean right now in the future.”

  “Now in the future. That makes no sense.”

  “I know. What I mean is if the dinosaurs came here then the people and things that were here had to go somewhere. Maybe they went to the future. If so, Ernie and Mrs. Powell would know where to go to find our message. Maybe Phat and Kenny too. We don’t know what happened to them.”

  Colter walked on in silence, a puzzled look on his face. Petra knew what he was feeling. It didn’t all make sense to her either—maybe it never would. But she and Colter had to learn to live with what had happened. They had lost all their close friends—the friends that made up their support network. Colter still had a family in northern California. That’s where they would head next. Petra still had her father, but there was little support to be found there. Still they were lucky, they had each other. So many had lost so much.

  “Look,” Colter shouted.

  Petra followed his point to see something moving along the ocean shore. Colter broke into a run and Petra followed down the path to the wire fence along the edge of the bluff. To the north was a point of land that blocked the view farther up the coast. Coming around that point was the biggest dinosaur they had seen yet. It walked on all four legs and had a long snaking head and dragged a long tail. It was a brontosaurus, except they remembered it was technically an apatosaurus. Everyone was quickly becoming a dinosaur expert.