Dinosaur World Omnibus

by Adam Carter

  Annoyingly enough, Whitsmith reasoned Torrance actually looked more attractive outside of the suit and was tempted to make her put it back on.

  “We need to get out of here,” Torrance said dryly, her narrow eyes staring pure hatred at Hudson, all but refusing to even acknowledge Whitsmith was even there any longer. “That thing’s coming for us and if it finds us it will kill us.”

  “It didn’t kill me before,” Whitsmith said.

  Torrance looked to her now. “What?”

  “It seemed more curious than anything,” Whitsmith continued. “In fact, it even seemed human. After a fashion. What is it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where did it come from?”

  “I don’t know that either.”

  “You’re lying.”

  Hudson waved her rifle slightly to remind Torrance she was still holding it.

  Whitsmith could see the soldier wasn’t going to give them anything and said, “It came from the north. Didn’t it?”

  It was such an obvious thing that Torrance did not even bother denying it.

  “What happened up there?” Whitsmith asked. “You said there were forests to the north. Are there more of these things?”

  “I don’t know,” Torrance said through gritted teeth. “Maybe. We ... We found something. An outpost maybe, I don’t know. People had been living there anyway. Looks like there may have been some kind of large craft settled for a while. There was a camp with high fences, for all the good they did. We found electrical generators for the fences, but nothing was working. The barriers hadn’t kept the creatures out.”

  “Go on,” Hudson urged when she stopped.

  “There weren’t any bodies,” Torrance said, “so whatever happened there, there may have been survivors. Maybe they took their dead, maybe they buried them. Maybe the animals got them. We didn’t find much of use there, but we did find that thing. It stalked us, tore two of our people apart before we even realised it was there. It’s the most proficient killing machine I’ve ever seen.”

  “So you ran,” Whitsmith determined. “And it chased you.”

  “What?” Hudson asked. “You mean you led that thing here?”

  “Why didn’t it kill me?” Whitsmith asked.

  “I don’t know anything about it,” Torrance snapped, and Whitsmith reasoned she could believe that. “I’ve never stopped it for a chat, we just ran.”

  “Perhaps it doesn’t like soldiers,” Whitsmith surmised. “Maybe it fought soldiers in that camp and it’s developed a hatred for them.”

  “I hope so,” Torrance said, “because that would be the only good thing to come from me dropping all my armour.”

  Thunder rumbled overhead and Whitsmith glanced to the sky. The rains were strengthening. “Come on,” she said. “We should head back.”

  “What about her?” Hudson asked. “We take her back like this, there’ll be questions.”

  “We’re not shooting her.”

  “Just in the legs?”

  Whitsmith glowered at her colleague. “It’s not at the us or them stage yet, Katie. You,” she spat at Torrance. “If we take you back, you don’t go telling tales to your boss.”

  “She’s going to wonder where my armour’s gone.”

  “She’s right,” Hudson said. “Shooting her’s the best option for all of us.” She smiled. “Oh, Aubrey? It’s nice to see we didn’t beat her up or anything.”

  But Whitsmith had no time for such levity. Her mind was racing. The rain was freezing and her teeth were beginning to chatter. She could see Torrance was shivering, her naked feet likely frozen. “We’ll head for a marker,” Whitsmith decided. There were several outposts surrounding the prison, usually referred to as markers. They were little more than sheds, but they were handy places to stop for a while if necessary. “We’ll tie her up while we think of what to do about her.”

  “Tie me up?” Torrance almost shrieked. “That thing is after me and you want to truss me up like a present?”

  Lightning flashed, the rain suddenly pounding them, and Whitsmith knew the time for arguing was long past. Whatever they were going to do, they needed to do it now; and Whitsmith was in charge. “We’re heading for a marker,” she determined. “Katie. If she resists, shoot her.”

  Again lightning cracked through the swamp and Whitsmith snapped her head up to the sky. Her eyes widened. Along with the darkness of the storm, night was also rapidly falling so she could not be certain as to what she had seen, but as the swamp was illuminated she could have sworn there was something lurking in the trees, looking down upon them.

  “All right, move,” Whitsmith said.

  Hudson led Torrance away at a brisk trot. Whitsmith remained behind for several moments, staring up into the trees. It was still light enough to make out the trees themselves, although the various shadows cast by their high branches and all-encompassing leaves were mystified by the coming night. Nothing leaped out to cut her down and Whitsmith realised it did not much matter what was out there. If that creature wanted to kill them, it would do so. Torrance had said it had killed two of her people in seconds. Whitsmith believed her.

  Tearing her eyes from the darkness, Whitsmith hurried after her companions. The marker would shelter them from the storm, but if electrified fences could not keep this beast at bay, she very much doubted wood and nails would be anything more than kindling for its fury.

  CHAPTER TEN

  There had been over one hundred species of animals catalogued upon their world in the five years since they had taken over the prison, and the only ones Valentine had ever been interested in were those which were served up to him in gravy. The more dangerous creatures were useful only in that they could be fought in the pits, but that was Zebadiah’s territory and Valentine wanted nothing to do with it. If it was up to Valentine they would only ever capture and fight herbivores, but the bouts which attracted the most attention were always the ones where a human being was pitted against a carnivore. As such Valentine understood the necessity for having carnivores locked up in cages downstairs, even if he did not agree with it. He had always been assured, however, that there was no chance of any of them ever breaking out.

  He had not counted on someone being stupid enough to just open the door and let the things walk free.

  So far as he could determine, there was only the one creature loose in the prison, but that one had been without doubt the most violent and dangerous they had stored away. On his way down to the main hall Valentine grabbed a handheld access port linked into the prison’s library and scanned through all the information he could find about the creature on the loose. The erythrosuchus, the red crocodile, was an odd name considering no one knew what colour these animals were. Fossils could tell scientists many wonderful things, but even Valentine knew they did not preserve skin pigmentation. That the red crocodile from the cells was actually red may have been coincidence, genetic manipulation or proof it had an apt name. Valentine did not much care why it was red and was of half a mind to just shoot the thing dead and be done with it. If he did that, however, he would be faced with a lot of angry people, and it could bring his entire system down about his head.

  He continued to scroll through the animal’s file, but there was precious little of interest. That the creature was a precursor to the dinosaurs and that it was a cross between a theropod and a crocodile was something he didn’t care about. That it was considered an ambush predator was indeed useful information, since it would mean it would be good at hiding. There was nothing in the library about how to kill one, but then he doubted many people had ever done such a thing.

  There was more information which had been added by his people over the past few years, probably by Whitsmith mainly, but most of that only dealt with its lifestyle and habits. Unless it intended to nest or rear young any time soon, Valentine did not believe any of Whitsmith’s research would do him any good. He promised himself he would have a talk with her about priorities once this was over, assuming
any of them made it out alive.

  As he entered the main hall he could see a scene of carnage. Blood soaked the stairs and Valentine could see an arm hanging loosely over the railing. There were four bodies on the ground floor, all torn apart by savage jaws, with several people dealing with the bodies while others stood about with guns. When they had initially seized the prison Valentine had been thankful to have found such a supply of weapons, and since many of the prisoners had been incarcerated for gun-related crimes they had no shortage of people able to train everyone in how to shoot. Valentine was still not sure it was such a good idea to teach convicted murderers how to shoot someone, but on this world there was very little choice in their survival.

  He approached his bodyguard, Anthony Stone, who was directing operations.

  “Where did it go?” Valentine asked, trying not to look directly upon the shredded people, nor hear the wailing of any still alive. The smell was something he could not block, however, and wrinkling his nose only struck him as a tad insensitive.

  “We’re not sure,” Stone told him. “I have patrols moving through the corridors. That thing was big, it can’t have got too far.”

  “It could be anywhere,” Valentine chastised him. “It’s an ambush predator, which means it’s good at hiding. Don’t you know anything about these creatures?” It was a low blow, but Valentine always had to maintain an air of knowing what he was talking about. It all helped with his control, especially should anyone be considering wresting the institution from him.

  Institution, he reminded himself. Since the arrival of the soldiers he had reverted to thinking of this place as a prison all over again. Prison was not a name these people favoured, although it was just a name to Valentine.

  “If it’s hiding,” Stone said, “it might go for dark places. Perhaps we should shut off the lights in some areas to goad it into a direction we want.”

  “I think it might be a tad cleverer than that, Stone.”

  “So we lower the temperature. It’s a reptile, right? So it’s coldblooded. We lower the temperature and it’ll become sluggish.”

  Valentine tried not to scowl. The truth was not all dinosaurs were coldblooded, but he had no idea which were and which weren’t. To top it all off the red crocodile wasn’t even a dinosaur, and he had no idea how such things stood with creatures like that. What he needed was someone who knew what they were talking about.

  “Is there any word on Aubrey yet?” he asked.

  “No, boss. You want me to call her?”

  “That would help, yes.”

  Stone pulled his radio and tried her frequency, but there was no response. He tried again, to no avail. “Probably the storm, boss,” he said.

  “So there’s a storm as well is there? Oh joy, this really is my lucky day. Just do a level by level search and bring that thing back down to its cage. Tranquilise it if possible. I’d rather lose a few murderers and bank robbers than a crowd-pleaser like that.” He of course spoke this part more softly so no one would be able to overhear.

  Stone took some people and headed out after the patrols he had already established. Valentine was left not knowing what he might himself be able to do about this situation. Whitsmith would have known the best course of action, but Whitsmith was unreachable. He briefly considered leading an expedition to find her, but with a storm raging outside it was never a good idea to wander the swamp. He hoped Whitsmith and Torrance were taking care of each other, although he had detected no small amount of antagonism between the two women. Whatever their problem with each other, so long as it didn’t break into a shooting match he knew Whitsmith would handle it fine.

  Knowing he would be useless on the search for the red crocodile, Valentine decided it was time he did what he was best at. He was in charge here and it was about time he started acting like it.

  Grabbing a pistol from one of the women standing guard, Valentine headed back to his bedroom. It was not a long walk, yet when there was an angry monster potentially lurking within every shadow it was like running a marathon. He had received training in the use of a firearm but had never been especially good at it and suddenly wished he had not sent his bodyguard off to organise the search. If there was one thing which was not favoured within the institution, however, it was weakness, and Valentine could not be seen cowering in the corner while everyone else ran around dealing with the threat.

  Sucking up his gut, Valentine ran all the way back to his chambers. His reasoning was that if the creature was going to get him it was going to get him. Being an ambush predator there was a chance he might speed past it and be gone before it had decided whether he was worth attacking.

  Whether through skill or blind luck, Valentine made it to his room and pounded upon the door. He could have unlocked it of course, for he carried a spare key upon his person, although did not want to antagonise the sergeant any more than he had to. There was a chance after all she did not know what Hunter had done, and he wanted to keep the cranky woman on his side if at all possible.

  After a few moments the door flew open. Cartello stood there wearing a shirt and a scowl, and before she could say anything Valentine had pushed his way into the room.

  “There’s a creature on the loose,” he told her.

  She was too taken aback to even say anything; not because of what he had told her, but by his sheer brazenness.

  Valentine, safe in his room at last, spun to face her, watching for a reaction. “Private Hunter thought it would be worth a laugh letting go one of our research subjects.”

  The sergeant’s scowl diminished slightly, and Valentine was not certain whether this was a good thing. He had been hoping to transfer the woman’s aggression onto Hunter, but the sergeant seemed more amused now than anything.

  “This isn’t funny,” Valentine said. “My people are dying out there.”

  “What creature are we talking about?”

  “An erythrosuchus.”

  “No idea what that is.”

  “A red crocodile.”

  “And what do you want me to do about it?”

  “Well you’re a soldier aren’t you? Go shoot it. It’s Hunter’s fault I’m having to deal with this.”

  “So go bother Hunter.”

  “You really don’t care do you?”

  Cartello rubbed at her tired eyes. “Has there been any word from Torrance?”

  “What? No.”

  “Stupid girl, probably got herself killed already.”

  “You really have no respect for anyone, do you?”

  “You noticed that.”

  Valentine folded his arms and simply stared at her.

  “All right,” she finally said with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m not getting any peace until I’ve taken down your lizard am I?” She moved across to her armour and began to fix it to her body. She struggled into the breastplate, for she was a heavy-set woman and the armour was a tight fit. Not wanting to watch her dress, Valentine gazed about his own chambers, trying to see whether she had broken anything, and his eyes fell upon his computer terminal. He could see it had been accessed and he idly called up the history. It made for interesting reading.

  “You’ve been looking up troodons,” he noted.

  “Your Whitsmith woman seemed to think the creature in the swamp was connected.”

  “I’m reasonably sure you were out of earshot when she said that.”

  “I have good hearing.”

  Valentine paused. She clearly knew more than what she was telling, but asking her about it would not gain him anything so he did not see the point. Antagonising her would not get the red crocodile hunted down.

  “Oh,” she said as she finished with her armour and began checking her guns, “I also looked up the history of this place. The prison records have all been wiped, but I managed to find some old data relating to outstanding warrants. I cross-referenced the names with some of the rotas you keep on your computer. Strange so many people who would have been arrested a few years ago would have ended
up working in a prison. Ironic, you might say.”

  Valentine felt a sudden chill wash through him. “It was a government scheme,” he said quickly. “Using former inmates to help charter the various animals on this world.”

  “Well since the entire expedition’s illegal, it makes sense.” She glanced over at him. “Don’t treat me like an idiot, Valentine. Especially when I’m loading my gun. I don’t care about you people, and I don’t care about the paperwork involved in reporting you. Knowing my luck I’d be sent straight back here to arrest you, so you can stay here and rot for all I care. Once my mission here is finished I’m leaving this world and I tell you now I’m never looking back.”

  She was being upfront and a part of Valentine even believed her. It would be taking an incredible risk to trust her implicitly, but she was right about one thing: she was the one holding the weapons. Valentine may have had a pistol in his hand, but she was trained to kill with her eyes closed.

  “I appreciate your honesty,” he said, trying to build a bridge. “If you told me your mission I might be able to help speed things along.”

  She regarded him with an expression which told him she was seriously considering telling him the truth, but then she finished her weapons check and said instead, “Lead the way, Valentine. Let’s see about this red crocodile of yours.”

  Gripping his pistol, yet knowing it was by far a flimsier lifeline than was Cartello herself, Valentine led the way from his chambers and activated his radio. “Stone, talk to me.”

  “We’ve lost three more people on the east side, boss. We think it’s headed for the cafeteria. Maybe it can smell the bacon cooking.”

  “Keep it pinned if you can. Block all its exits. I’m on my way with the sergeant. She’ll sort this out for us.”

  “Stroking my ego,” Cartello said once he had put his radio back at his belt, “isn’t going to make me like you, Valentine.”