The Dinosaur Battle Of New Orleans

by Dane Hatchell

  “And?”

  “Jacob, these flares have paper casings on the outside. The pyrophoric material is on the inside. There won’t be a rapid release of energy to make the flares explode like sparklers,” Eric said.

  “That makes sense,” the sailor said. “You’ll have one big flare, but you won’t have a bomb.”

  Jacob thought a moment. “Okay, we’ll use a great big flare to get rid of that monster.”

  “What are we going to do? Drop the flare on it and burn a hole through it?” Eric asked.

  “I doubt if that would work. The flare would just bounce off of it and fall into the river,” Jacob said.

  “Then, what?”

  Jacob smiled, and said, “We’ll have to convince it to come and get it.”

  *

  When the three entered the Creole room, the passengers seeking refuge had used the tables and chairs to build a protective wall around themselves.

  Glass covered a good portion of the floor from multiple broken windows. Wide swaths of blood smeared across the wooden planks and stained ornate rugs.

  “Come hide with us, or you’ll get killed,” a concerned passenger called out.

  A window shattered on the deck below, and a woman’s shriek of terror announced the elasmosaur had claimed another victim.

  “We can’t waste any more time,” Jacob said. He took the bundle of flares from Eric and bent close to the floor. He had left the center flare poking from the middle of the bundle because he planned to use it for a fuse. With that strategy abandoned, he had to make the flare ends even.

  Tamping the protruding flare against the floor, he said, “We don’t want one of them sticking out.” After a few firm plants against the hard deck, he said, “There, it’s ready to go.”

  “What next?” Eric asked.

  “Simple. You’re going to stick your arms and head out of a window and gets its attention,” Jacob said.

  “Like heck I am!” Eric said as if that was the dumbest thing he had ever heard in his life.

  “You’ve got to act as bait. I’ll take it from there,” Jacob said.

  “I don’t think—”

  “Just get its attention and then run to the other side of the room. It’s no big deal. I’m taking all the risks,” Jacob said.

  “I’ll do it,” the sailor said.

  “No, I’ll do it,” Eric said. “When we get out of this jam, Jacob’s not going to tell anyone I chickened out. Besides,” he paused, “Jacob’s taking all the risks, right?”

  Touché, Jacob thought. It was time to put the money where his mouth was.

  Turning to the sailor, Jacob said, “How do we light these?”

  The sailor reached his hand out and peeled a strip of paper from around the end of one flare. Then, he pulled a one-inch section off the end and held the bottom side up. “See that? That’s the cap, and the bottom has a coarse striking surface similar to a book of matches. You light the flare like you would a match.” He motioned the bottom of the cap above the end of the flare.

  “Okay, let’s do this,” Jacob said.

  The sailor peeled off the paper strips of the remaining flares and removed the caps.

  Turning to Eric, he said, “Get into position.”

  Eric took a deep breath and turned his gaze toward the center window. With his neck stretched to the limit, he began a cautious approach.

  “See anything yet?” Jacob asked as his friend was within arm’s reach of his destination.

  “No,” Eric said, stepping as softly as he could. His body language indicated he would be ready to bolt for safety at the first sign of danger. He eased closer and stopped. “Hmm, nothing right now.” He poked his head past to where the window glass should have been and looked to his left and right. “No—wait. I see something floating to the surface.” He pulled his head away from exposure, turned, and pressed his back against the section of wall between the windows. “That thing is big. It’s totally huge, dude.”

  “Time to light up,” Jacob said. He held the flare bundle away from his body.

  The sailor rubbed the cap bottom on the middle flare. After a few errant sparks, the flare lit brightly like a kitchen match. The molten material spewing out lit the other flares in a roaring display of pyrotechnics.

  Jacob pointed the hot flare bundle at an angle to keep the sparks away from his face. “Eric, go dangle your worm out the window.”

  “What?”

  “Stick your head out and call it. You’re the bait.”

  Eric’s body leaned forward a little then retracted at a steady even pace. It looked like he was counting; trying to build enough nerve to do the deed.

  On the fifth nod of his head, he stuck his upper body out of the window and waved his hands wildly about.

  “Hey! Come and get it! Woo! Up here, you long neck loggerhead. I bet Godzilla would eat you for breakfast!” Eric shouted.

  Jacob thought he saw Eric’s eyes widen three sizes larger before his friend pulled back and dove over a table behind him.

  The elasmosaur’s head shot through the window in a blink. The long neck carried it forward all the way to the overturned table Eric and others hid behind.

  The event happened so fast it stunned Jacob into momentary paralysis.

  The snake-ish head hit the table, and the people hiding behind it cried out in shock. Opening its mouth and unleashing a reptilian hiss, the elasmosaur’s bloodstained teeth held meaty remnants of its earlier victims.

  The creature’s jaws bit the table. And with a quick shake of its head, tossed it to the side.

  Eric and four other passengers were about to lose their lives.

  “Over here!” Jacob didn’t know where his sudden burst of bravery came from, but he realized doing nothing would sentence those people to death. He was already responsible for killing one human and didn’t want to add to that burden—even if it cost him his life. “Come get me. I got your birthday cake with candles.” He stepped forward, moving the burning bundle in front of him.

  The flares’ sparkles caught the elasmosaur’s attention. It sensed an attack, and the neck defensively pulled its head back.

  The sailor threw a bottle of hot sauce and hit the sea creature on the nose.

  It opened its mouth again and hissed a warning. The gaping jaws were wide enough to stuff a whole hog down its throat.

  Jacob didn’t have a hog, but he did have a burning bundle of flares.

  He tossed the flaming weapon like shooting a basketball, with two hands. Whereas Jacob usually lost in a friendly game of HORSE, his aim was true and sent the flares smack into the middle of the elasmosaur’s throat.

  The elasmosaur’s jaws closed, and in an instant, it slammed its head upward on the ceiling. It hissed and gagged, flaying its head about.

  Jacob took a hit to his left side and heard ribs crack. He rolled on the floor and put his hands over his head. There was nothing left to do. This had either been the most heroic thing he had ever done or the most stupid thing which might end his life.

  “It’s gone!” the sailor said. He ran to the window and watched. “It’s thrashing in the water. I don’t think it can spit out the flares. You’re burning up its guts.”

  Eric came over to his side. “Hey, man. You okay?”

  “Yeah,” Jacob said and tried to push himself off the floor. “Ouch! Dude, I might have some broken ribs.”

  “It stopped moving! I think it’s dead!” the sailor said and grinned from ear to ear.

  Cheers of delight rose from the passengers.

  “Look at that, dude. You’re a hero!” Eric said as he gingerly helped Jacob to his feet.

  Thank-yous and accolades inundated Jacob as he steadied to his feet. But all that attention became a white noise clouding his vision.

  His mind’s eye kept returning to the unnamed man who had risked his life for him earlier and paid the ultimate price.

  Jacob had made a mistake so egregious that nothing he could do would absolve the sin.

&nbs
p; “I don’t even know his name,” he said; his words lost in the barrage of excitement; his soul in a cage that he may never escape.

  Chapter 14

  Officer Charles Tidwell gripped tightly to the waistband of his rescuer’s jeans as the dirt bike careened down Decauter street. The driver’s jacket had Ardis embroidered on the back.

  Less than a minute ago, Tidwell was about to die a horrible death by a deadly creature from time’s past. It took the bravery of an outlaw who risked his life to save him.

  He glanced behind and saw the other three dirt bikes make their escape, along with the two ATVs whose riders had unpinned Sergeant Darryl Ginyard from underneath the carriage and take him away before the allosaurus ate him alive.

  Crossing Canal Street, Tidwell saw the main street had become a parking lot. Some cars were abandoned, and some not. He imagined the fear of those trapped inside a vehicle with no way to leave. It was hot enough where if the windows weren’t rolled down, or the air conditioning running, that temperatures could rise high enough to kill the passengers.

  Then, he discovered the source of the traffic jam. A stegosaurus a few blocks up the street clogged the intersection. It looked as big as a float on Mardi Gras day. In fact, the beast had been bombarded from above with long strands of colorful beads, that now hung from the spade-shaped boney plates lining its back. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Tidwell would have laughed.

  He remembered that a stegosaurus had a spiked tail. A heavy weapon like that could do major damage to thin sheet metal. Hopefully, the stegosaurus wouldn’t consider vehicles much of a threat. Now wasn’t a good time to lay on the horn to voice traffic frustrations.

  Canal Street came and went. Where they headed, Tidwell didn’t know, and that made him uneasy. He didn’t think he could convince the Bywater Boyz gang member to entrust his dirt bike to him for emergency police business.

  A few beeps came from one of the ATVs behind them as they approached Poydras Street.

  Engines wound down, and vehicles braked to a stop at the intersection.

  The ATV carrying Sergeant Ginyard pulled up even with Tidwell’s ride.

  “I got a hold of the Chief,” Ginyard said. “They’re emptying the Louisiana National Guard and the Army National Guard in the Ninth Ward and sending them to the Superdome to set up base. All available police units are heading there to secure the area.”

  Ardis, the driver of Tidwell’s bike, lifted the face shield on his helmet. “My boys are going there too.”

  “Really? Why?” the sergeant asked.

  “Come on, man,” Ardis said. “You know when the crap hits the fan the poor people run to the Superdome for safety. Heck, I spent a few days in that hot-box during hurricane Katrina.”

  “The dome’s up the road. Time to get while the getting is good,” Tidwell said.

  “Let’s go,” Ginyard said.

  Ardis dropped his visor and goosed the throttle. The front tire lifted off the ground after turning on Poydras Street. He was no fool, he knew right now he had a get out of jail free card for anything short of murder.

  Poydras Street had almost no traffic. Parked cars sporadically lined the road as always.

  A vehicle from out of nowhere darted across an intersection in front of them, and Ardis and the others hit their brakes.

  Dodging one bullet, fate doubled down as a two-legged dinosaur popped up from around the corner. It was easily twenty feet tall and looked a lot different from the allosaurus who had attacked them earlier.

  This dinosaur had a long neck and lizard-like head. An array of feathers ran from its crown, down its spine, and all the way to its thin and relatively short tail.

  Another unique feature, it had oversized three-fingered claws—the claws measuring nearly three feet long!

  Tidwell had found himself thrown forward when Ardis braked, and now he almost tumbled off the back as the Bywater Boyz hit the accelerators to flee.

  One of the dirt bike riders caught a swooping claw from the therizinosaurs. The three spike-like claws penetrated his chest and poked all the way through his back. The bike continued forward without its rider and crashed into the side of a building.

  Ardis slammed on the brakes, and the bike fishtailed and spun around so far the back tire bumped a New Orleans Public Works truck. “Darius!” he yelled and lifted his visor.

  Darius’ arms and head listed lifelessly, but his legs twitched uncontrollably.

  Dismounting the dirt bike, Ardis left Tidwell on his own. He then lowered to one knee and reached to his ankle. Coming away with a handgun from his ankle holster, he raised it and fired.

  Tidwell slid forward in the seat and prevented the bike from falling on its side. When he saw Ardis produce a handgun, he yelled, “Stop! He’s gone. Get back over here. We need to leave.”

  The others had stopped and watched the horror show.

  Ardis had a small caliber gun which could do little, if any, real damage. As evident by the therizinosaurs paying him no mind. Instead, it fixated on the skewered fresh meat.

  Darius’ skull cracked and crunched as the dinosaur’s jaws crushed it like popcorn.

  Tidwell saw the pain on Ardis’ face and wished there was a way he could help him extract revenge for his buddy. Not only that, but this monster didn’t need to prey on the innocent of New Orleans. It needed to be destroyed now.

  As he looked around, Tidwell spotted a five-gallon propane bottle in the back of the maintenance truck. It was a long shot, but a YouTube video he’d watched on improvised explosives inspired his next move.

  He stood the dirt bike on its stand and went for the propane tank. It had a regulator on a rubber hose connected to the valve. He sawed the hose off with his serrated pocket knife and ran by Ardis’ side. “Put the gun down!”

  The therizinosaurs placed Darius on the ground and put a foot on his leg while its jaws worked on pulling off his right arm.

  Opening the valve, propane hissed out the cut hose.

  Sergeant Ginyard excitedly yelled something Tidwell couldn’t understand. Didn’t matter. There was a chance they could take care of this threat here and now.

  Tidwell ran forward and waited to get close enough before he reared back and unleashed the propane bottle like it was a bowling ball.

  The bottle skidded along the street before coming to a stop when it hit the therizinosaurs’ leg.

  Again, the dinosaur was only interested in eating.

  Running to Ardis, he held out his hand. “Let me have that.”

  “No, it's mine. I’ve got a concealed carry permit,” Ardis said.

  “I’ll give it back,” Tidwell said.

  Reluctantly, Ardis complied.

  The heavier than air propane formed a visible cloud growing around the therizinosaurs. Tidwell waited for the dinosaur to lift its nose as it noticed something strange before he squeezed off a carefully aimed round.

  The first bullet missed. But the second found its target and penetrated the tank. The explosion nearly sent Tidwell to his knees.

  A glorious fireball engulfed the dinosaur. It slammed into a nearby wall and looked burnt to a crisp and bloated like it had swollen and popped. The concussion from the explosion possibly turned its insides to jelly.

  Tidwell felt the concussion too; like his head got run over by a log truck. He looked and saw the others rubbing their ears and heads. They weren’t as close to the explosion as the dinosaur but still had suffered some effects.

  Ardis removed his helmet and wiped his wet eyes with his fingers.

  “I’m sorry about your friend,” Tidwell said.

  Shaking his head, he said, “He…was my cousin.”

  Giving the poor man a minute to grieve, Tidwell said in a soft, instructive voice, “We need to get over to the dome. We’ll come back and get his remains as soon as this is over,” he said and handed the pistol to Ardis.

  “That was some creative thinking, officer,” Ginyard said, giving a rare half-grin showing two of his gold teeth.


  This was the only time Tidwell had seen the sergeant smile like that outside of a bar when Ginyard was talking to a woman and drinking a Heineken. “Thanks. Let’s go to the dome.”

  *

  The blocks passed quickly down Poydras Street as the Bywater Boyz’ vehicles ate pavement. Tidwell spotted a few dinosaurs roaming the narrower side streets. The dirt bike moved too fast for him to get a good look at them. But from what he saw, none were attacking humans, and none were taller than an average man. This inspired a little hope because if all the dinosaurs had been the size of the allosaurus or the therizinosaurs, whatever defense the police could put together wouldn’t be enough.

  As they approached the dome, cars cluttered the surrounding streets. Taking sidewalks and other off-road passages put them near the entrance to the Mercedez Benz Superdome.

  They came to a stop by a line of police cars. Beyond the blockade, Tidwell saw people coming in droves from a nearby interstate ramp. A small number of police officers patrolled the area amongst the crowd, urging them toward the Superdome.

  Tidwell hopped off the back of the dirt bike and waved at Chief Kenny Gregoire.

  Gregoire broke his attention away from another officer and returned a slight nod before continuing his conversation.

  Sergeant Ginyard joined Tidwell as the Bywater Boyz shut down their vehicles.

  Gunshots cut through the air followed by a woman’s scream. More gunshots followed from multiple weapons.

  “Let the good times roll,” Ginyard said and looked around. “We need firepower, and we need it fast.”

  Two four-door Jeeps painted with the Bywater Boyz logo rolled up.

  Ardis and his other three companions walked over to greet their fellow gang members.

  Tidwell almost called out to Ardis to thank the man before going their separate ways, but Chief Gregoire approached to meet them.

  “What have you two been doing to end up with that bunch?” the chief asked, his left cheek puffy with sunflower seeds.