As if there weren’t enough pandemonium, a third Quetzalcoatlus flew in to divide the six others racing for the sanctuary of trees.
“Son-of-a-bitch! They’re everywhere,” Bats cried.
“You let him go you gooseneck bastard.” Ron reared his right arm back and let one of the rocks fly. The anemic projectile hit the Quetzalcoatlus in the chest and bounced harmlessly off. The second and last rock wasn’t any more effective.
Chief brought Susan and Bats to a halt after ducking behind a large tree. It was time to rein in emotions and collect his thoughts before the situation got completely out of hand. He wasn’t sure what they could do to save Don, but with only rocks and bare hands as weapons, the pterosaurs were impossible to defeat.
“Ron! Run away!” Coop yelled, his voice distant.
At least others had made it to safety. How many, Chief didn’t know. From his vantage point, he saw one Quetzalcoatlus chase after where Meat, Suge, and Natasha had entered the woods. He couldn’t see Coop or his companions, but the Quetzalcoatlus who split the Geologist’s group didn’t follow them past the tree line. Instead, it walked on all fours—heading for Ron.
As Don wailed in pain, Ron jumped abruptly backward as the snaking head of his brother’s captor snapped an open beak closed mere inches away. The poor man was grossly outmatched.
Chief watched in horrific amazement as the second Quetzalcoatlus walked giraffe-like toward his Redwater mate. The giant reptile shrieked its challenge and made a claim for the tiny human.
Ron barely had twisted around to face the new predator when its six-foot toothless beak scissored closed across his chest. “Roll Tide!” the man screamed out.
The battle wasn’t over; in fact, a new one began. The Quetzalcoatlus holding Don wasn’t content with its prize. Before its competition made off with Ron, it lowered its head and clamped its beak around Ron’s legs. Chief’s teammate howled in new pain.
For the first time in his life, Chief wished he were back in Iraq dodging enemy fire. At least the odds were better for survival. If a person or team could hunker down and hold their own, there was a chance of help arriving. In Patagonia, no SEAL team waited to parachute in. No bombs from 5,000 feet would find and destroy the enemy. This lost world was a harsh, cruel place. An environment not designed for human habitation.
He looked over at Susan. The woman had her head leaned back against the tree. Her eyes were closed and fear had contorted her soft, feminine features. No doubt she struggled to push the dying cries from Ron and Don from her mind.
At least Chief’s emotions had been battle-hardened—this wasn’t the first time he’d heard suffering in the throes of death. Not that it eased his conscience; two members of his team were dying, and he was doing nothing other than sit tight and preserve his own ass. If he had a gun it wouldn’t have the firepower to do anything but grant final mercy to Ron and Don.
His thoughts returned to Susan. Would there come a time when death was imminent, where picking up a rock and smashing her head in would be more humane than giving her up to the hungry jaws of a dinosaur? Patagonia was a war with new rules. Chief would have to act as his own judge.
“Looks like the tug-of-war is over,” Bats said. “They settled for one apiece.”
“At least the screaming’s stopped. Ron didn’t have a chance to save his brother and he knew it. It just didn’t matter,” Chief said.
“They’ll both end up back at the volcano. It’s not like Ron didn’t know that,” Bats said.
“I doubt Ron was thinking that way. I believe the two have been together for so long that one couldn’t live without the other very long. I don’t think either wanted to find out what that would be like,” Chief said.
“What’s the plan?” Bats asked.
“We need to regroup. There’s a pterosaur between us and Coop’s group chasing after Suge, Meat, and Natasha. We all agreed to go south, so we head south,” Chief said.
Bats shook his head and smirked. “I know, but I don’t know what good it actually does us. Three, six, nine naked and unarmed people in this place—doesn’t seem like numbers will make any difference. We can’t outfight these things here. We can’t outrun them—mostly because they’re everywhere,” Bats said.
“True. That’s why we’ll have to use our brain to keep alive—find some way to keep a step ahead of them. Alex and Matt stayed safe in the trees when we were attacked by Troodons. We could do the same—if the opportunity presents itself,” Chief said.
“Yeah, if there’re trees in the area, if the branches are low enough for us to reach, and if we can climb faster than they can catch us,” Bats said. “Even if we get up a tree, what then? This ain’t a Tarzan movie. We won’t be swinging on vines from tree to tree. We’ll be stuck up there with no food and no water. All the dinosaurs have to do is wait for us to drop and it’s lights out.”
“We have to keep moving and not give up if we want to leave here,” Chief said.
“It’s a long, long way on foot back to the Mule,” Bats said.
The wheels were turning in the mercenary’s mind. Bats usually wasn’t one to beat around the bush with his opinion. What was he hiding? “If you’ve got something to say, say it,” Chief said.
Bats turned his gaze to the ground and rubbed the back of his neck. He cocked his head to the side, and said, “I’ve had some time to think. Maybe we’re going about this all wrong. We think we can escape this place. Maybe we can’t. Every step we take into the jungle places our survival in uncertainty. We haven’t been gone much more than a couple of hours, and Ron and Don are already dead. Some of the others may be dead, too. We don’t know. How soon will the rest of us die? How many times are we going to play the stupid game of traveling to the Mule to call for help? Face it. We’re never going to make it, Chief. We’re all going to die one by one and wake up by that volcano all put back together to go out and do it again.”
“Say we don’t go searching for the Mule. What’s your plan?” Chief asked.
“We find a safe location—away from the bigger dinosaurs—and set up camp. Some place near water where we live day to day. Sure, we may have to go through hell a few times until we find such a place. But I think it’s better to spend our energy that way than running off on a journey hundreds of miles away. Ace Corp isn’t going to leave this area until they map out all the natural resources. They’ll find us one day. In the meantime…” Bats turned his head Susan’s way, “we’ll live our lives as normally as we can. We’ll find or build shelter, hunt and fish, and we even have a couple of women to keep us company.”
Lust had once again invaded paradise—threatening to fragment the group into warring factions. Chief looked over to read Susan’s reaction to such a forward suggestion. Bats was already reducing the women to possessions, and Susan didn’t seem like the type to keep her opinions to herself. She stared wide eyed ahead.
“Over there,” Susan whispered and raised a finger. “There’s something big coming our way.”
At this point Chief didn’t know if she had heard Bats’ proposal, but at the moment it didn’t matter. The theropod lurking in the jungle some twenty yards or so away had the potential to ruin their plans and much more.
“I don’t know what that is, but I bet it's hungry,” Chief said.
“I studied up on dinosaurs with Alex before the trip. It looks like a Dilophosaurus. See that pair of rounded crests on its skull?” Susan said.
“I was focused more so on all those teeth,” Chief said. There was something unusual about the head—and not the double crest. It was difficult to see because of the distance, but the face had a series of deep scratches across it, and its eyes looked like opened wounds. “It’s been hurt—maybe blinded. We’ll have to make a break for it. I’m sure it can still hear and smell. Let’s not do anything sudden.”
“Shit. It has our scent,” Bats said.
The theropod had frozen mid-step and pointed the tip of its nose on its pear-shaped head into the wind. The rounde
d red rose colored crests started past its nostrils and ran all the way past its eyes to the top of its head. The back, tail, and legs were gray-silver with faint black mixed in outlining a rough diamond pattern not unlike a rattlesnake. The underside was dull white like most other theropods.
Chief felt Susan’s nails dig into his left forearm. There was no way to know how long she could maintain her composure. If she lost it, they’d all be in danger. His mind told him that if that happened, the correct decision would be to leave her and for him and Bats to seek safety—to continue the mission. But he didn’t know if he could do that—leave Susan to die alone—leaving her with the dread of abandonment to go along with facing horrific death. Chief had feelings for Susan, and though his life would be wasted if he fought for her survival, she would at least know that he was there for her, and that he cared. If the two were going to have any future relationship and set him apart from the rest of the men, he had to be there for her when she needed him the most.
Chief moved his arm, breaking Susan’s grasp. He then grabbed her hand with his and brought a finger on his other hand up to his lips. He narrowed his eyes toward Bats, signaling that he was taking the lead, and about to make a move.
Bats nodded, obeying the chain of command as any good soldier would.
How long would discipline rule? Hopefully until they found their way out of Patagonia. But if escape gave way to settling down, it would eventually turn to every man for himself. Chief thought it ironic how war turned men into animals but formed strong bonds between strangers—ties hardened by life and death situations. Sharing experiences that made a random group of men closer to each other than their own fathers and brothers. But take these same men out of war and put them back into civilization, every sacrifice of the past could be erased by the smile of a cute girl or the plunge of a blouse neckline.
It was impossible for them to take a path without leaves or other grasses calling attention to each step. Even though the adrenaline pumping through Chief’s body had his legs ready to run as fast as they could, stealth would be the key to victory. He stepped lightly—trying to find the hardest ground and avoiding any brown, withered foliage. The sound of his own breathing amplified in his head, making it difficult to judge their success in being quiet. This wasn’t like him. He had been in bad situations before but had managed to keep his shit together better than this. He was distracted—and it hit him why. Susan. His feelings for her had wormed its way into his unconscious and weakened him. Chief told himself to harden his resolve. This was a mission, a job; he needed to tune emotion out and achieve the objective.
A furtive glance back every now and then told him the Dilophosaurus had picked up their trail and followed. Perhaps it was only curious of the odd smell and questioned whether expending the energy to track down a potential food source would be worth it.
Several minutes went by, and Chief thought the dinosaur had picked up its pace a bit. A shuffle of leaves here and a twig cracking underfoot there might have inspired its pursuit. Breaking into an all-out run would certainly get one or all of them killed. There was a chance two could escape if one of them sacrificed their life. But it wasn’t like he could order Bats to take one for the team and give him and Susan a chance. Maybe they could draw straws. Chief didn’t want to leave Susan with Bats if he lost. At least he would give her a chance and perhaps spare her the pain of dinosaur teeth ripping flesh from bone.
Before he decided to put the offer up for discussion, an unusual mound of dirt a couple of feet high caught his attention. If it was what he thought it was, this might buy them a chance.
Chief pulled Susan from where he led for a detour a short distance to the side. When they reached the two-foot-high pile there wasn’t any doubt as to what it was made of.
“Get a handful and rub this over your body—and make it quick,” Chief whispered.
“It’s shit,” Bats said, disgust in his voice.
Chief was the first to plunge his hand past the dried crust and scoop out a gooey portion. “And if we smell like shit, baby Godzilla over there might stop following us.” He smeared the feces across his chest and shoved some under his arms.
Susan looked at the pile like it was a serpent and reached in the crater, bringing a wad of the brownish-green organic material. She stuck her head out a bit and opened her mouth, gagging at the foul odors released into the air she breathed.
“I don’t like the smell of shit,” Bats said.
“Great. You go dance with the dinosaur then. It’ll give Susan and me a chance to escape,” Chief said.
The look Bats gave in return showed the man realized the suggestion might have been more than a prompt to motivate him into action. His expression turned to reflect that his feelings were slightly wounded. Still, though, he moved the rock from his right to his left hand and painted himself with a handful of dino dung.
Susan managed to keep whatever she had in her stomach down and went to work rubbing the feces on her body. Her disgust had her nose squinched and her bottom lip poking upward forming tiny dots on her chin.
By the time they had finished, the Dilophosaurus was too close for comfort. Chief led them away from the dung pile and stepped on over to a tree with a trunk at least six feet wide. He motioned for them to be still and wait.
The dinosaur had hurried its pursuit, and now the only chance the three had was hiding under the blanket of smell.
The theropod’s footsteps crushed foliage on the ground. Its steps sounded surprisingly light. The animal itself stood slightly taller than an average man, but the way it was shaped made it appear much larger. From the head to the tail must have had it twenty feet in length. It amazed Chief that something that big could move so fast. Thinking of its crocodile-like mouth snapping closed on his soft flesh brought back haunted memories of the Troodon attack where he was dissected mouthful by mouthful while still alive. Cold sweat beaded across his brow, and a chill snaked down his back.
The Dilophosaurus was close enough for Chief to hear it snort the air. In a way it reminded him of a horse testing the breeze. The theropod uttered a slow hiss and moved into full view past the tree the three hid behind.
Susan kept her cool—thankfully. But Chief felt her flatten herself against the tree trunk next to him. Bats was on her other side, his eyes closed, and all emotion drained from his face.
The dinosaur moved slowly and headed away. So far so good, and with any luck, the camo-shit smell had it thinking a stinking pile of crap was by the tree—not three tasty humans.
Just as Chief thought the Dilophosaurus had lost interest, it abruptly turned around and hissed with a wide open mouth. His legs threatened to turn to water as the beast slowly moved toward him, its mouth open like a bear trap waiting to snare a victim.
Fear had him caged against the tree. He felt like a helpless mouse trapped by a cat in a corner. Where was his courage? Where was that last valiant effort where the warrior took on insurmountable odds and died in the glories of battle?
The theropod hesitated and turned its head from side to side. Maybe it hadn’t discovered the human prey. Maybe it picked up the scent of a more familiar animal—one that didn’t smell like shit and would taste better.
Chief’s chest felt like the weight of the Earth rested upon it. He didn’t know if he was lightheaded because of fear endorphins or because his breathing had become so shallow.
The dinosaur’s curiosity won over whatever other options it entertained in its mind. It took two steps closer and slowly leaned its head forward.
The red crested head of death moved right toward Chief’s face. The theropod’s crocodile smile filled his field of vision. Its teeth loomed as harbingers of impending torture.
Bats still held a baseball sized rock in his left hand. He brought his arm up, and launched it over to the side.
The distraction stopped the Dilophosaurus cold. It jutted its head to the side and craned its neck in the noise’s direction. But instead of taking the bait and leaving—it str
uck like a cobra. The theropod’s head rocketed directly toward Bats, and the daggers of destruction in its maw chomped down between his shoulder and neck.
Chief reacted without thought. He had Susan’s hand and had rolled off to the side dragging her with him. Bats’ screams painted a horrible picture in his mind of the fate he had just barely escaped. His teammate had unintentionally sacrificed himself. For that, Chief was thankful. Oftentimes the saying No good deed goes unpunished proves itself to be true.
The two dashed away from the tree leaving the Dilophosaurus to eat uninterrupted and hopefully not notice their departure.
Bats stopped screaming, and though the attack hadn’t lasted that long, Chief knew each agonizing second of being eaten alive felt like an hour. When the Troodons’ had feasted on him, he remembered how time slowed. Each cut from teeth and every dig with taloned claw blossomed packets of excruciating pain.
Susan struggled to keep up—at times he pulled her along. They needed to get as far away as possible before the Dilophosaurus had time to decide if it was full after only one human.
A hiss mixed with a throaty baritone note told them the Dilophosaurus’ gluttony had it abandon its meal for the chance of two more.
“Shit! It’s following us,” Chief said. He looked into Susan’s eyes and saw any chance of hope dissipate. Death would soon be upon them.
“What’s that up ahead?” Susan said between deep breaths.
Chief hadn’t paid a lot of attention as to what lied before them, worrying more about what gained from behind. He turned his head and saw a gash in the earth traveling as far as he could see in either direction—cutting off forward escape.
They quickly arrived to the crack’s edge. It was as if the land here had been pulled apart. The gap was some ten to fifteen feet wide. Both edges were sheer down the sides and dropped more than ten feet deep to a mostly flat bottom.
Lost World II: Savage Patagonia Page 11
