The race was on.
He dashed toward the tree—pushing past the pain in his knee, his elbows chugging like the main rod connected to the wheels of a steam locomotive. Tall grasses slapped against his body, impeding his flight to safety. Gerald gave it all he had; he sucked in and heaved out air in his lungs.
As if pissed that the prey dared attempt an escape, the two creatures’ uttered reptilian cries several syllables long. Each had its own distinct tone, lacing threatening hisses between ferocious warnings.
The dinosaurs hadn’t hesitated for long. Gerald heard each clawed foot strike the earth and tear through the grass behind him. They were gaining—fast.
He stepped to the side to avoid a tree whose branches were too tall for him reach. It was as if he could feel the creatures’ hot breaths on the back of his neck.
A broken tree branch on the ground nearly five feet long looked promising as a weapon. Gerald stooped and picked it up, and then turned to make a final stand.
Out of wild fear and pure luck, he jabbed it toward the nearest dinosaur and struck it in the face—and in one of its eyes.
It stopped cold in its tracks and let out an enraged yell. The other stopped as well, clawing at the air and jutting its head back and forth, as if waiting for the proper moment to strike.
It wasn’t much of a defense, but it was all he had. There was no way he could win a fight, and he knew better than to believe the intruders would eventually tire and go away. The million-dollar question: Could he hold up long enough to make it up a tree?
The unhurt dinosaur stepped away from his companion, drawing Gerald’s attention. It moved almost 180 degrees from the other, exposing his rear. This was not good. He slowly backed up, poking the stick toward the dinosaurs.
The injured creature got back into the game, snaking his head forward, and biting the air a few feet from Gerald’s head. He turned and poked the stick at it, and then hurriedly turned to the other side and jabbed at the other. But the dinosaur moved quickly and in close enough to bite the stick—tearing it from Gerald’s grasp. He raised his arm in a futile attempt to hold it back, but the creature wasted no time and bit Gerald up to the elbow of his right arm. The other attacked from behind, and as Gerald instinctually raised his other arm to ward off the foe, it bit his left forearm.
Lost World of Patagonia is available from Amazon here.
One Dinosaur One Bullet Page 13
