Flyers

by Scott Ciencin

  “The truth?” Eric asked.

  “I can take it,” Alan said.

  “Josh,” Eric said.

  “Really.”

  “Josh seems like a good guy. I want to help him, but . . .”

  Alan nodded. He understood. “But he worships you. You’re his hero. And you don’t know how to deal with that, right?”

  “Kind of,” Eric said. “Did you ever meet someone who’s read about you, or they’ve read something you’ve written, so they think they know you? And they think it’s cool to say things to you they normally wouldn’t even think about saying to a total stranger?”

  “Personal and insulting things, like you’re not real, like you’re on the other side of the glass with them, making commentary on your public persona?” Alan asked.

  “Yeah. Like this thing he said about my dad . . .”

  Alan sighed. “I suppose it goes with the territory of being a celebrity. Not that we’re movie stars or anything like that, but for some people, we might as well be. And they don’t know how to act around us, how to treat us like we’re regular people.”

  A voice called from way behind them. “Hey Dr. Grant, any comment on our current situation? Are you feeling guilty that all these people are at risk because you let those things off the island and let them multiply?”

  Alan was about to spin and tell the reporter exactly what he thought when Eric gripped his arm.

  “Forget him,” Eric said. “He’s like half the kids at school. He’s baiting you, that’s all. Just remember, you’re the one holding the cards. You’ve got something he wants.”

  “My reaction,” Alan said.

  “On camera, yeah.”

  Alan looked over his shoulder at the camera aimed his way. “What matters now is saving lives. You can quote me on that.”

  They reached the end of the corridor and followed Amanda’s plan into the heart of the Kongfrontation ride.

  “We need to get on the other side of the building,” Amanda said. “Fastest way is probably taking the tram itself right through the ride.”

  They located the tram, which sat at a re-creation of a New York City subway station. The signs above the graffiti-covered concrete walls identified the place as the Roosevelt Island station near the Fifty-Ninth Street Bridge. The TV monitors all around them were blank, and shadows wrapped around every corner.

  The tram had pulled into the station and it sat, doors open, waiting to take its next pre- programmed trip. Amanda, Eric, and Josh loaded in their supplies, while Manly played back footage of the flyers he had taken during their initial attack and then on the run from the Earthquake building to the restaurant. Alan watched with interest.

  “So this is our enemy. There’s six of them,” Manly said.

  “Six?” Alan questioned. “I’ve only ever noticed five at one time.”

  Manly scanned the video back and played it for the group, identifying each of the six flyers. The trolley car began to hum and a warning came over the loudspeaker that it would leave the station in moments.

  “It’s a mystery,” Alan admitted. “But—”

  He heard a scratching. A familiar fluttering of wings.

  “Turn that off, will you?” Alan said, pointing at the camera.

  “It is off,” Manly said. “I’m not making that sound.”

  Alan and Eric turned at the sound of footsteps. Amanda and Josh were heading their way, her hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  Something skittered in the darkness. Another flyer was in the tunnel, beyond the tram car—and it could be on them in seconds.

  Amanda and Josh heard the sounds and froze.

  “Manly, here’s what I need you to do,” Alan said. “Do you have a volume control on that thing?”

  The reporter nodded.

  “Set it to full blast, wind the footage back to where one of those things is really squawking, then kick the camera as far as you can without breaking it.”

  “Not a chance,” Manly said. He lifted his baseball bat.

  “No story’s worth your life,” Alan said.

  “You’ve never worked for the Examiner.”

  “Fine, then it’s not worth our lives,” Alan said. He reached for the camera, but Manly was too quick for him. The reporter snatched it up and ran into the tram car.

  The Pteranodon who’d been lurking in the shadows sprang at the others!

  CHAPTER 13

  Eric and the others raced onto the tram as the flyer leaped into the station.

  “Preparing to exit,” a prerecorded voice said as the last of the group darted into the car—the flyer close behind. The doors slid shut as the Pteranodon jammed its body into the steadily diminishing opening. It squawked in rage as the doors slammed on its shoulders and squeezed its wings together painfully.

  Eric and Josh hefted their bats as if it were time for tryouts for their local baseball teams. With camera raised, Manly slid perilously close to the flyer as the car rocked and threw him off balance. He screamed as the Pteranodon’s talon swept through the doorway of the slowly moving tram and across his chest, tearing open his shirt.

  BLACK PTERANODON

  Alan hauled the reporter back from the creature’s claw as Eric and Josh swung their bats at the trapped flyer. The Pteranodon dodged the flying sticks of wood, and its powerful beak fastened on the closest bat. It wrested the bat from Josh and whipped it around, keeping the humans at a distance as it pried at the doors.

  The tram picked up speed and sailed toward the tunnel. The Pteranodon looked to one side at the wall rushing its way and yanked itself free. The doors hissed shut and the flyer smacked against the wall, spinning and fluttering to the tracks behind the tram.

  Manly looked a little pale. The gashes on his shirt were turning deep red.

  “Gangway, mom with a mission here,” Amanda said as she brought one of the first-aid kits over. He took off his shirt, exposing his sweat-soaked, rippling muscles.

  “Hmmmph,” Amanda said with a frown as she cleaned his wounds. They weren’t deep, but they bled a lot. “If I wasn’t married and you weren’t a jerk, I could almost be impressed.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I said almost.”

  Eric nodded at a medallion Manly wore around his neck. “What’s that?”

  “My first award. A journalism competition when I was in high school.” He looked away, a little embarrassed. “My good-luck charm.”

  A saying was inscribed on the medallion: WITHOUT THE SPOONS AMONGST US, WHO WOULD STIR THINGS UP?

  The tram passed a realistic-looking subway car torn from its track and a demolished police car near a gushing fire hydrant. Turning a corner, they saw Kong hanging from the Fifty-Ninth Street Bridge, a police helicopter hovering nearby.

  Kong charged at their subway tram, which shook and dipped toward the river. Manly and Amanda were almost knocked from their feet.

  Suddenly, a sharp crack sounded from the tram’s rear. Eric spun and saw the flyer smacking its beak against their rear window.

  Kong roared—and the flyer jumped away in surprise. The tram left Kong behind, but the flyer returned. The Pteranodon smashed against the window but couldn’t break through.

  Suddenly, another Kong burst from the roof of a damaged building ahead. He reached out and grabbed the tram, giving it a mighty shake.

  The Pteranodon held on to the rear window, smacking its beak on the glass. Then a fiery explosion from behind Kong made the flyer screee at the top of its lungs and take flight.

  The tram settled into the station and the doors opened. The group leaped onto the platform, carrying what they could of the supplies they’d gathered. The caws of the angered Pteranodon grew louder as the flyer closed in again. This end of the ride was so vast and wide open that there was nowhere to hide!

  “The fish,” Eric said. “We can distract it with the fish—”

  “No good!” Alan said. “Given a choice, these things will go for live prey every time.”

  “Besides, it’s tic
ked off,” Manly said. “And so am I.”

  Manly slipped his camera to Josh. “Just make sure you keep me in the frame.”

  “What are you doing?” Alan yelled.

  Manly darted back inside the tram’s open doorway, waving his bloody shirt around.

  “Come on, you think you’re so smart,” Manly said as the flyer came into view. He waved his baseball bat in the Pteranodon’s direction to get its attention.

  The Pteranodon eyed the situation: Alan and four humans with bats in one group, and a lone, unarmed human elsewhere. It went for Manly!

  As the flyer shot into the air, folding its wings to soar into the tram, Manly tossed the shirt high. The flyer screeched as the fabric closed over its face, and Manly dove low, barely avoiding the flyer’s raking rear claws as it flew into the tram. An instant later, Manly barreled out of the tram, and the doors hissed shut, trapping the flyer inside.

  The Pteranodon screamed in frustration and raced around frantically, its wings flapping wildly. It looked like a moth caught in a sealed jar!

  “Okay,” Amanda said. “Now what?”

  Manly took the camera from Josh. “Now we get to that communications room and let the outside world know what we’ve seen.”

  “For once, I agree with him,” Alan said. “If there’s a computer, we can upload his footage as an e-mail attachment. Knowledge is power. The more information people on the outside have, the better equipped they’ll be to deal with this.”

  Alan nodded toward the trapped Pteranodon.

  “Tape some of that racket,” Alan said, looking at his map. “I’ve got an idea.”

  CHAPTER 14

  The chopper descended quickly over Orlando. The side door was open wide and one member of the city’s animal control unit sat in a harness, his legs dangling. A high-powered long-range tranquilizer gun was gripped tightly in his hands. His partner was perched behind him with a video camera. The man’s shoulder-holstered sidearm was filled with Teflon-coated armor-piercing bullets.

  “I’m still thinking maybe we should have gone in on foot,” Kelly LeCroix said as the chopper sailed over Universal Studios and continued to descend. He was a handsome, well-muscled African American with brown eyes hidden behind his dark shades.

  “These things have the advantage of the high ground,” Jack McCanley said, shouting to be heard over the heavy beating of the chopper’s wings. He had short, thinning red hair shaved to a crew cut and covered with a baseball cap. His face was thin, his look determined. “This way, we’ll be even higher.”

  Kelly sighed. “So—you up for this?”

  “No. You?”

  He laughed. “No.” Playing scared was a ritual with them, a way of easing their all too natural and reasonable fears.

  “We stick with the plan,” Jack said. “Aerial recon first. We need a good lay of the land. Try to assess any damage.”

  “And casualties.”

  Jack gripped his partner’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

  The park was now coming well into view. Kelly hoisted the camera and aimed it at the many buildings and streets below. “How many would you say we’ve bagged?”

  “Gators or bears?” Kelly asked.

  “Both.”

  Kelly leaned out a little and checked the scratches on the side of their chopper. They only counted the animals they captured alive. Termination was a last resort, a kind of failure. “A baker’s dozen.”

  “Right, lucky thirteen.”

  “Yeah, the last was that bear that knocked on that woman’s door in Oviedo, then just sat on the porch until we came.”

  “I remember. Wish they could all be like that.”

  Kelly nodded. They had joked about how that one had been too easy; they’d probably have to really work for the next one. As it turned out, they had no idea what they’d be in for.

  The chopper swung over the great lagoon at the center of the park. Jack caught the entire scene with his zoom lens. “They’ve herded all the people into the lagoon. Could be close to a hundred visitors. Two of the Pteranodons are circling. Two more are perched on boats in the harbor, pecking anyone trying to climb out of the water.”

  “How many killed?”

  “No floaters. A couple of people lying on the boardwalk. They might just be knocked out.”

  Kelly raised his weapon and put his eye to his sight. “Then we should get this done quickly.”

  “Negative. Recon only. Who knows what might happen if we get those things stirred up?”

  Kelly lowered his weapon. “Yeah.”

  Looking over his shoulder, Jack told the pilot to take them out of here.

  Kelly finally allowed himself to relax.

  “I was reading up on the way here,” Jack said. “Pteranodons aren’t even dinosaurs. They just lived during the Dinosaur Age. They’re actually winged reptiles. They’re more like birds than anything.”

  “So what are they doing here?” Kelly asked. “What do they want?”

  The chopper flew high over the lagoon. Jack frowned. “My best guess? Nesting.”

  Suddenly, one of the flyers whipped around and sailed right for them. Kelly aimed his tranq rifle and fired twice at the Pteranodon as it sailed perilously close to the chopper. He missed both times, though he felt the updraft from the flyer’s thirty-foot wingspan.

  “Whoa!” Kelly yelled.

  “Don’t worry, they look tough, but they’re hollow-boned, really light,” Jack said, talking much too quickly as he drew his sidearm. “About thirty or forty pounds, that’s all.”

  “Uh-huh,” Kelly said, watching for the Pteranodon as he patted his spare cartridge belt. Still there. Good.

  “What, you don’t believe me?” Jack said nervously, priming his gun.

  “Sure, it’s just . . . I mean—I read this article in Time, and it said InGen played around with stuff. Who knows if—”

  The flyer changed direction suddenly, slicing directly under the helicopter and disappearing from sight. Both men tensed.

  “Anything?” Jack called to the pilot.

  “I don’t see it,” the pilot yelled.

  “The sound of our blades should be scaring the life out of that thing!” Jack said. “They’re like birds, and birds scare easy.”

  Not like birds, Kelly thought. Not even close.

  “We’ve got a loudspeaker, ultrasound, but none of it’s hooked up,” Jack said. His voice was shrill.

  Suddenly, the Pteranodon rose up on the opposite side of the helicopter, allowing the vacuum of the machine’s blades to haul it upward. Kelly saw the creature in all its glory for only a second. The flyer’s dark eyes met his; then its fiery-looking wings flapped sharply and the chopper jerked as if it had been grabbed by a giant hand on one side.

  The flyer had landed on the chopper’s opposite rudder. Each time it flapped its wings, the helicopter bounced in the air. The Pteranodon had to weigh five or six hundred pounds!

  Kelly felt his lunch rise as the chopper tilted and trembled. Jack spun and aimed his gun at the opposite window. He caught only a glimpse of his friend’s ashen expression and shaking hands.

  “No!” Kelly screamed.

  Jack emptied the gun. Glass shattered as the flyer dropped away, capsizing the helicopter with a thrust of its powerful rear claws! Bullets ricocheted as the chopper spiraled down toward a grove of trees.

  Kelly’s world whirled around and he felt as if he were caught up in the chaotic fury of a twister. He tried to draw a breath, he wanted to scream, and the trees shot up at them.

  He never got the chance.

  The adult male Pteranodon dropped away from the great metal enemy, easily avoiding the crash and the great fireball that rose up. He considered checking the wreckage for carrion, but there was no need. Twilight was fast approaching. With the night would come the first of many feasts his family would enjoy in this place.

  He returned to the lagoon and found a scene of confusion. His mate, Flood, was frantic. His son Spike had returned, though he seemed shak
en, agitated. Trip was also on hand. But Lightning, his quickest and eldest son, was still missing.

  Fire announced that he would delay the feast. Give his eldest son time to return.

  CHAPTER 15

  They found the communications room quickly. Manly went to a computer in the corner and hooked up his digital camera. Amanda practically attacked the phone, but all she could summon up was another series of busy signals. Eric and Josh surveyed the equipment with Alan.

  “We can tap into the park’s loudspeakers and announcement system from here,” Eric said as he pointed at a set of controls.

  “So I could talk to my dad?” Josh said, his chest heaving with excitement.

  “He’d hear us,” Alan said. “We wouldn’t hear him.”

  PTERANODON

  Josh nodded, his shoulders sagging. “Right. I didn’t think of that.”

  Eric understood. When he was lost on Isla Sorna, the logical conclusion wasn’t always the first one he came to, either. And yet . . . Josh was glaring at him, as if he felt Eric was somehow to blame for things.

  “Come on, it’ll be okay,” Eric said as he put his hand on Josh’s shoulder.

  “You don’t know that,” Josh said sharply. “You don’t know anything.”

  Eric drew back and let Josh busy himself in another corner of the room, checking out a control manual.

  Alan went over to Manly. “You know how to do this?” Alan asked.

  “Yes, not a problem,” the reporter said. He was wearing Alan’s flannel shirt. Alan still wore his T-shirt and hat. “Local and state authorities. Animal control. On-site security. The e-mail addresses you gave me for your people on Isla Sorna. You name it, I’ve got ’em covered.”

  “Good.”

  “I want to get through this just like anyone else. All we have to do is log on and hit send.” Manly hit the sign-in button. The computer made several attempts to log on, but the Net was busy.

  “It’ll just keep trying until it gets through,” Manly said. He looked at his watch. “Must be getting dark by now.”