The Dinosaur Battle Of New Orleans

by Dane Hatchell

  As the three goons took the bait and turned to look, he dashed to the right; hoping to make it past the wall supporting the observation deck and to the front promenade deck to mix in with the crowd.

  Sam’s luck rolled snake-eyes when the slick soles on his shoes couldn’t adequately grip the moist deck. He spilled forward and landed flat on his stomach.

  Percy Ray and company were on top of him before he could get up.

  Looking even with Percy Ray’s shoes, Sam lifted his gaze to the leader’s eyes.

  Bending over, Percy Ray scooped something off the deck. He lifted the dice up for his inspection and shook them about. “You should have done this the easy way.”

  The next thing Sam new, a size eleven loafer planted in his stomach, knocking his wind out.

  “Get the money, and throw him over,” Percy Ray ordered his goons.

  Then, what seemed like a five-gallon bucket of water, rained down on Sam.

  Percy Ray dropped the dice, and they bounced on the sopping deck.

  Sensing danger, Sam lay flat on his back and saw a huge snake-ish head open its mouth and chomp down on Percy Ray’s head. Long fang-like teeth in the front of the mouth pushed easily past human flesh and bone. Blood gushed down the leader’s chest as he uselessly slapped the creature on the side of the head.

  Briefly looking over the side, Sam saw the head attached to a neck over twenty feet long, connected to a massive gray body floating on the Mississippi’s surface.

  One goon pulled out a pistol and fired into the elasmosaur’s neck.

  The prehistoric creature felt the gun’s onslaught and cried out in pain, slinging Percy Ray backward into the wall, where he crumpled into a bloody mess.

  The elasmosaur clamped its jaws on the shooter’s torso and jerked its head to the side, sending the gangster flying into the paddlewheel of the Southern Queen. His screams briefly breached over the patter of splashing water.

  The last goon wanted no part of the sea monster. But as he turned and ran, he slipped on the deck too.

  Once again, the snaking head claimed a prize. The elasmosaur sank its teeth in the goon’s rear and hauled him over the railing and into the Mississippi.

  Sam caught his breath for a second and gazed over at Percy Ray. The teeth had committed so much trauma to the mobster’s head, there wasn’t a chance he was still alive.

  The gunshots would soon have others come to the back of the boat to investigate. Sam needed to leave and hide in the crowd before someone grabbed him for interrogation.

  Picking up his loaded dice off the deck, he hurried toward the front of the boat. Surely someone on the observation deck got a look at the creature. There was no way anyone could pin Percy Ray’s death on him, Sam hoped.

  The promenade deck held a mass of people huddled together as far to the front as possible.

  A young crewman grabbed Sam as he headed to blend in with the crowd.

  “Sir, what happened back there? There were gunshots,” the crewman said.

  “Something big came out of the water. It looked like a dinosaur and had a neck so long that it was able to reach the top deck! Some guy had a gun and shot it when it attacked two of his buddies.”

  “Dinosaur? Mister, are you drunk? Do you have a gun?” the crewman asked.

  “I’m not drunk, and I don’t have a gun. You can search me. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Sam said.

  “I saw it,” one of the ship’s sailors said from the observation deck. The man wore a blue uniform with gold bands around the sleeve, but Sam didn’t think it was the captain. “I’m not sure what I saw. It was huge…reminded me of those dinosaurs in the ocean in that movie Jurassic World.”

  Sam’s peripheral caught something reddish snaking up from behind the crowd. Its blade-like shape had the width of three men. Suction cups the size of beach balls dripped with the river’s muddy funk. It looked just like the club at the end of a squid’s tentacle. But the size of it was huge.

  The tentacle crooked like a shepherd’s hook and round, quivering suckers from its club mashed against two unfortunate passengers. The two men’s screams had everyone fleeing from the front of the boat.

  “What the…?” the crewman said as he spun toward the noise.

  One of Sam’s favorite appetizers was fried calamari. In fact, when he would fish off the Gulf with his uncle, he made him keep the cephalopods instead of using them for bait. Sam’s mother made a marinara that turned average fried squid into a treat decadently delicious. Whatever was on the other end of the tentacle would be anything but.

  Another tentacle came from below and searched the deck as the first tentacle disappeared with the two victims.

  Sam knew squids had two feeding tentacles that were considerably longer than the eight other legs. He hoped those suction covered legs weren’t trying to latch onto the boat’s bottom. As scared as he was, he was so fascinated by the size of the squid, he couldn’t pull his gaze away.

  Then, bubbling of the port bow, the squid’s stabilizing fin and mantle rose from the water, resembling a mountain shaped like the Devil’s horn. Its reddish skin glistened above the dark river. The beast looked otherworldly. Its majesty proclaimed that nothing on Earth could be its equal.

  Its single eye peered out; a hungry black void wanting to suck out a man’s will to live. The squid’s body tilted backward revealing its parrot-like black beak. Sections of its eight arms, looking like massive rubber hoses, floated to the surface. The feeding tentacle snaked toward its open maw. The obsidian mechanism pushed through slimy white muscle and opened wide. The beak looked strong enough to snap an oak tree in half with a single bite.

  The first man entered halfway in. The beak sliced the unfortunate victim in two above his waist. Face down, his arms slapped at the river’s surface in a hopeless attempt to escape. Suffering was short-lived as the beak opened again. The rest of the man disappeared into the sea devil’s mouth.

  The second man flayed about uselessly. What horror he must have felt watching the first man meet such a dreadful fate!

  The tentacle pulled toward the squid’s mouth, and the beak took his upper body first. At least he was lucky enough to die a quick death.

  Then, a young man dashed from mid-deck to the front, following along the railing. “Wow! Awesome!” His t-shirt proclaimed he was a fan of the University of Louisiana–Lafayette Ragin’ Cajuns. “Eric! You gotta come see this!”

  “Hey! Get away from there! Watch out!” Sam yelled, shocked at the display of stupidity.

  In fascination, the young man apparently didn’t notice the feeding tentacle sweeping the deck behind him.

  The giant squid’s pulsating bluish-white suction cups honed in on its prey.

  Feeling powerless to help, Sam turned to run down the stairs to the next deck and spied a rectangular box on a wall. Big letters instructing to USE IN CASE OF EMERGENCY hung above a glass case guarding a fire ax.

  His mind’s eye saw what would happen next. The giant squid would claim its next prize and end another human life in a couple of bites. There was just something so wrong with that.

  Sam ran up to the glass case and smashed it dead center with his right elbow. Shattered safety glass rained onto the deck, allowing him to grasp the ax handle and pull it free from its mount.

  “AAAHHH!” the young man cried in the sea devil’s grasp. The suction cups had planted on his back and his bare legs below his shorts.

  Raising the ax above his head, Sam raced over to the tentacle just before it slinked over the side, and swung it downward with all his might.

  The polished head of steel sliced deeply into quivering red flesh, sending a fountain of blood spewing into the air.

  A shriek erupted from the river below never heard by human ears; sending an icy-bolt of fear up Sam’s spine.

  In a blink, the suction cup-laden club thrashed about, crashing the young man into Sam, and popping loose from the squid’s hold.

  Both men sprawled out
on the deck as the injured feeding tentacle disappeared over the side.

  “You okay?” Sam asked as he gathered his bearings and tried to roll to his knees.

  “Yeah…I think so,” the young man said.

  “Jacob!” another young man called from by the stairwell, also wearing a Ragin’ Cajun t-shirt. “What the heck happened to you?”

  “Dude, you won’t believe me when I tell you,” Jacob said. He slowly stood and adjusted his shirt collar. Then he reached behind his left thigh. “Ow…that thing latched onto my leg so hard it broke the skin.”

  As Sam rose, using the ax handle as a crutch, he looked over the side and saw the squid’s good feeding tentacle come straight for him.

  With no time to react, the squid’s wide club wrapped around him so tightly he couldn’t breathe.

  His feet left the deck, and as the tentacle pulled him over the side, his heart felt like it flew upward and hung in his throat.

  The squid’s mountainous red mantle jutted above the muddy river water. The ghastly one eye opened a gateway to Hell, and Sam felt like he was in the presence of Satan himself.

  The black beak poked from the white membrane of its mouth.

  This was it. Sam should have left when he could have and saved his own butt. He didn’t know why he had felt a sense of obligation to risk his life for a stranger. As admittedly selfish as he was, that act of chivalry was beyond his normal character.

  Maybe this had been his day to die all along. Rather than be taken out by the Mafia, God had given him one last chance to redeem himself before passing into the great beyond.

  Sam felt the squid’s grip loosen as the tentacle brought him nearer to the scissor-like beak. Then, as if toying with him, the suction cups let go of his legs and held tightly to his back—dangling him in the air above its open maw.

  He still had the ax and swung it wildly about with one hand, doing his best to connect with flesh. His futile attempt didn’t work, as the ax handle slipped from his sweaty grip and landed in the Mississippi.

  Sam thought he heard the squid laugh as the black beak came closer. But no, he realized it wasn’t laughter. It was a noise like people made when they anticipated something good to eat.

  Sam’s last contribution on Earth would be um um good to giant cephalopod.

  Ironically, it was as if all the squids he had eaten in his life would get the ultimate revenge.

  Chapter 10

  Dr. Breaux’s legs responded to the woman’s cry for them to run before he realized what was going on. He heard pounding noises coming from inside Johnny Black’s like something was trying to break through a wall.

  Bridget was right next to him. He got the impression she could have sped past but instead maintained a half-step behind to keep him in her sight.

  So far Bridget had remained strong through this ordeal. In fact, as the situation worsened, her fortitude increased.

  Unlike him, he noticed. He was willing to hold off the troodon with that tiki torch at Pat O’s to give Bridget enough time to escape. But she risked her life too to save his by dousing the dinosaur in vodka, which set it on fire. That was his last act of bravery—maybe his only moment of redemption after the entanglement experiment unleashed the prehistoric havoc. And now, now he seemed to vacillate between a coward too afraid to live or a coward whose only sense of preservation was to flee.

  Bridget must certainly have realized this, and that’s what kept him under her watchful eye.

  Whatever tried to break into Johnny Black’s had succeeded. It unleashed a terrifying warning that it chased after them.

  “We’ve got to find shelter!” the woman cried out.

  The young man leading the three strangers stopped and pulled on the door of the next business they came upon. The door was locked, and they continued to the next.

  The door pulled open this time, tinkling a small brass bell hanging on the backside. The young man held the door open, and a short, portly man running with his arms extended while balancing a drink in his hands went through first.

  Taking a moment to glance behind, he saw Bridget narrow her eyes and nod, a command for him to stay in line and not waver from his path.

  Breaux also saw a feathered dinosaur that certainly was as tall as Big Bird from Sesame Street but looked like Satan himself had remade it in his own image. The theropod opened its mouth and hiss-roared again making Breaux feel like his bowels were about to unleash as he ran.

  The young man called for them to hurry as he continued to man the door.

  Sliding to a near stop, he bumped the door with his shoulder and entered, spilling inside the business.

  Bridget followed, and the young man hurried in and closed the door, twisting the thumbturn on the deadbolt lock.

  Everyone in the room dove to the floor, trying to find a hiding spot from view of the window.

  The Utahraptor stopped by the front of the business.

  Breaux peeked from the side of a display counter he hid behind and watched the dinosaur bend over and sniff the sidewalk. When it raised its head, it cried out in surprise and opened its mouth. At first, he thought the dinosaur had spotted one of them, but then realized it must have seen its reflection from the glass. That was a good thing, as he hoped the mirror-like glass would prevent the beast from seeing inside.

  Not finding food or threat, the Utahraptor turned its attention elsewhere and lumbered out of sight.

  The tension in Breaux’s back released, and he put his butt on the floor and rested his back on the display counter. “It’s gone,” he whispered to Bridget, who had laid flat on the floor behind the same counter.

  Then, the professor heard what sounded like a straw sucking the last remnants of liquid mixed with air from a cup.

  The portly man poked his head from around an antique wardrobe. He let the straw drop from his lips, and said, “I think it’s gone.”

  The young man and the woman appeared from their hiding places and went over to the other man.

  Bridget rose to her feet and glanced their way, and then turned her gaze to him. “Doc, are you okay?”

  Yeah, he was fine, but if that business’ door had been locked, it might have been a different story for all of them. “Yes.”

  “Everyone else okay?” she said, having turned her attention to the strangers.

  “We’re fine,” the woman said while giving the portly man the evil eye.

  “I’m Bridget Reed, and this is Dr. Bryan Breaux. We’re over here from Tulane. Doc is a professor there, and I’m a student.”

  “I’m Kathy Stevens. I’m with Delta airlines, as you might be able to tell from my flight attendant uniform.”

  “Dave Einstein. I’m a student at Tulane, too.”

  “I thought you looked familiar. I’ve probably seen you around the student union,” Bridget said. “Although all you flannel wearing, bearded white dudes tend to look alike sometimes.”

  All gazes turned to the portly man, who smiled widely at the sudden attention. “Me…I’m drunk!” He laughed like an eight-year-old getting his feet tickled.

  Kathy’s face turned red, and she balled up her right hand into a fist.

  “Okay…okay. My name is Melvin Posey. I own several used car dealerships in Cleveland.”

  “Any idea what’s going on around here? One minute we’re having drinks, and the next minute a triceratops and a T. rex are fighting it out in the street,” Kathy said.

  Bridget turned a warning gaze to Breaux that told him to be careful what he said.

  “We were across the street at Pat O’leary’s when the dinosaurs attacked. They seemed to appear collectively in the two bars leading to the patio. Bridget and I were celebrating my new…” Breaux caught himself before he created a trail to a place he didn’t want to go, “new promotion. When they invaded the patio, we escaped by climbing onto the roof. When you three ran out of Johnny Black’s, we had just come down from there.”

  “I just realized I haven’t looked at my cell phone yet since
the dinosaurs appeared,” Dave said. He unclipped the phone from the holder and typed in his passcode. “Hmm, no bars.”

  The others, except for Melvin, pulled out their phones and checked.

  “Mine was in my carry-on,” Melvin said to no one in particular.

  The negatives were unanimous.

  “Dinosaurs are running in the streets of the French Quarter. I don’t see any viable solution until the military moves in and destroys every last one of them. We’ll just have to wait it out here,” Breaux said.

  “I wonder if there’s any food or drink in this store? We’ll need something if we’re going to be here a while,” Bridget said as she looked about.

  “I’ve got some cherries in my drink,” Melvin said as he looked over at Kathy. “I’ll share them with everyone.” It was an obvious attempt to quench Kathy’s ire.

  Dave pointed to the window, and said, “We’re in Cou-Yon’s Collectibles. These junk shops don’t usually carry refreshments.”

  Breaux let his gaze wander about the room and saw nothing of the sort. There was jewelry, coins, furniture, figurines, and other knick-knacks, but nothing for sustenance.

  “Oowee. Look at all the old coins over there,” Melvin said.

  “Hold it right there, Stinky,” Kathy said grabbing onto his arm as he started for a display counter. “This stuff isn’t yours for the taking. We’re here to hide out, and that’s all. You could get us in trouble.”

  Breaux didn’t know why Kathy had called Melvin, Stinky, but considering the way the man looked and what he did for a living, it didn’t take too much imagination to guess a plausible answer.

  Stinky’s head bobbled as he turned his gaze to meet Kathy’s. The left corner of his mouth rose, and then the right corner of his mouth dropped. “I…don’t…feel…so…good.” His knees gave way, and he dropped to the floor.

  “Gosh, darn it!” Kathy said through gritted teeth. “I told you not to drink all of that alcohol.”

  The portly man was on his side and rolled over on his back. Blinking his eyes like he was trying to get them to focus, he said, “No…that’s not it.” He closed his eyes and swallowed. “I need my…insulin. I’m a diabetic.”