How Teddy Roosevelt Slew the Last Mighty T-Rex

by Mark Paul Jacobs

  “Diamonds?” Cherrie said, nearly apologetically. The naturalist eyed Martin directly.

  Martin nodded playfully. “Any fool entering the Wide Belt realm would have noticed the land’s potential for mining precious gems. The village was literally over-flowing with sparkling trinkets.”

  Roosevelt, in no mood for evasive answers, sighed deeply. “Is this why you brought us all to this juncture, Mr. Martin, simply to plunder these native’s gemstones?”

  “I can assure you my own intentions are purely scientific, Colonel. Only today did I see the true breadth of Julio’s treachery.”

  “You should be aware,” Cherrie said, “that Julio has divulged some interesting stories about your own past, Lieutenant.”

  Martin’s inane grin evaporated. “Julio is a born liar and a greedy fool. And, if you hadn’t yet noticed, he has proven his willingness to commit cold-hearted murder. What additional proof do you need?”

  “I did not mean to imply—”

  “I, on the other hand, have performed every task assigned to me. And now, you inform me that you find it more suitable to believe him than me?”

  Cherrie caught Roosevelt’s eye. Roosevelt shook his head subtly.

  “Well, it appears Julio is gone now,” Rondon said. “He will die alone in the jungle and cradling his treasure; that is, if he is lucky enough to escape the jaws of some predator yet encountered.”

  Roosevelt breathed fire. “Are you telling me that we are not sending a posse to find and arrest this… this murderer?”

  “We simply do not have the time or—”

  “This is completely unacceptable.”

  Rondon shrugged. “It is, what is must be, Colonel Roosevelt.”

  Roosevelt checked his rifle and hurriedly inventoried his ammunition. “Well I am going after him, alone if I must. Mr. Cherrie, would you care to accompany me?”

  “Senhor Roosevelt, be reasonable, sim?”

  George Cherrie stepped forward. “I am ready, Colonel.”

  “I am also, father,” Kermit said. “You are not going anywhere without me by your side.”

  Roosevelt hesitated before offering his son an approving nod. He thought first of Edith and then of Belle. Shaking aside these concerns, he turned finally to the Englishman. “Lieutenant Martin, would you care to lead the way?”

  Martin grinned. “Of course, Colonel, I will be absolutely enthralled to offer my tracking skills to your grand posse.”

  Colonel Cândido Rondon sighed with resignation. “Very well, Mr. Roosevelt, but the expedition cannot be held back for longer than twenty-four hours. We must press onward by sundown tomorrow, with or without you and your contingent.”

  “Understood,” Roosevelt replied. “I would think less of you, commander, if you failed to act otherwise. I would like to state openly that I alone have decided to pursue Julio, and please note such in your personal logs.” Roosevelt waved his hand. “Now, let us be on our way. Julio’s trail grows colder each minute we dawdle.”

  Martin and Cherrie led the way into the deep jungle to the west and away from the river. Theodore Roosevelt lagged twenty or thirty steps behind followed by Kermit, guarding the rear. The ground tilted upward as they meandered above the river basin, and Roosevelt began to stagger before coming to a complete halt, absent his breath. Mercifully, the others waited patiently, allowing the asthmatic former president some time to recover.

  Roosevelt noticed George Cherrie listening intently to the sounds of the surrounding jungle. The naturalist turned his head in every direction before sitting down and lowering his hat in thought. “Anything of particular note?” Roosevelt asked, tipping back his canteen to drink.

  “Just the usual monkey-calls and insects, Colonel, nothing extraordinary…”

  “And if it were… something…?”

  Cherrie took a swig of water and wiped his mouth. “In my experience, an abrupt silence would indicate the presence of an outsider.”

  “Or a large predator?”

  “Yes, possibly.”

  Lieutenant Martin chuckled hysterically, waving the others forward. “I have found Julio’s tracks. The prints are no more than an hour or two old. We shan’t have to wait long before catching him now!”

  Roosevelt noticed the strangest gleam in Martin’s eyes. “He must be one of the oddest men I have ever met,” he whispered to Kermit. “The man does not appear the least concerned with encountering the beast of the Wide Belt’s legend.”

  “Or even about coming face to face with a hostile and dangerous Julio,” Kermit replied.

  Roosevelt felt a sudden chill, catching both Kermit’s and Cherrie’s sudden glances; apparently they too were struck by the same dispiriting unease. “Keep your rifles handy and your mind alert for any possibilities,” Roosevelt hissed tersely.

  Kermit and Cherrie nodded in agreement.

  The four men continued to penetrate deeper into the jungle as the landscape flattened and the terrain became cluttered with huge boulders surrounded by towering trees with thick, twisting trunks. Roosevelt checked his watch, noting that it had been nearly an hour since they had left the Rio Roosevelt’s bank in pursuit of the renegade Julio de Lima.

  Suddenly, Lieutenant Martin halted and motioned for silence. Carefully pushing aside some palm fronds, the Englishman gathered the others and pointed ahead toward a wide clearing in the forest. Roosevelt noticed a man-made stone building amid the overgrown meadow; it was approximately fifteen paces long by ten wide with a narrow entrance facing south.

  “The Wide Belt’s stone house,” Martin whispered with almost giddy zeal, “built in deference to the Arawuua beast and to protect their gallant warriors from harm during their yearly hunts. How magnificent! And precisely like the chief described. We must be at this very moment treading upon the very center of the creature’s abode!”

  “What about Julio?” Roosevelt asked. “Do not forget that he still carries a rifle and enough ammunition to kill us all. I fear Julio more at this moment than I do a monster.”

  Martin bowed dutifully. “Of course, Colonel, please allow me to secure the building before you proceed.”

  “Be careful, Lieutenant.”

  Martin grinned. “Always!”

  The three men watched Lieutenant Martin creep toward the Wide Belt’s shelter. Peering around, the Englishman slipped through the door and quickly out of sight. Roosevelt counted to fifteen before Martin reemerged. Martin motioned the others forward. “Come, it is quite safe.”

  Roosevelt, Cherrie, and Kermit moved cautiously into the clearing. Kermit lagged behind with his rifle trained on the outlying forest. Roosevelt noticed a deep pit—possibly natural, possibly man-made—surrounded by several equally-spaced fire-pits. The far side of the pit faced the open forest, leaving an opening at ground level; thus forming three steep walls and no escape for anyone or anything lured within, except for retreat. Could the Wide Belts have used this pit to corner and trap the beast? Roosevelt mused.

  “Come,” Martin beckoned impatiently. “Julio is not here. You will be quite astonished when you see what lies within these walls, I promise. Come.”

  Theodore Roosevelt squeezed inside the doorway followed by George Cherrie. The room was draped in shadow, yet a few rays of sunlight penetrated the patchy and worn roof. Roosevelt could clearly see a stone vat filled with sparkling jewels near the opposite wall. “George, look—”

  Roosevelt suddenly felt a cold presence to his right. He glanced upon a glint of a rifle’s barrel pointed directly toward his temple.

  A voice hissed from the shadows: “Drop your rifle, Colonel.”

  Theodore Roosevelt froze. The voice was all too familiar. “And you also, Mr. Cherrie. Drop your gun now or senhor Roosevelt’s brains will be splattered across these walls and you will be burdened with that grim image for as long as you live, which incidentally may be mercifully brief.”

  With their hands held above their heads, Roosevelt followed Cherrie out the doorway and back into daylight. Roo
sevelt’s heart sank to untested levels of despair when he noticed Lieutenant Martin pointing his rifle directly at the temple of a prone and unarmed Kermit.

  CHAPTER 26

  “You do realize,” George Cherrie said calmly, “that you will both likely die lonely deaths in this god-forsaken wilderness with only the trees and mosquitos bearing witness to your utter stupidity.”

  Julio tugged violently at the cloth strips binding Cherrie’s hands behind the naturalist’s back. Theodore Roosevelt could almost feel Cherrie’s searing agony, even though he sat on the ground several feet away. “Quiet,” Julio hissed. “You will get what you deserve, Mr. Cherrie. I will never forget the beatings I received at the hands of your mindless slaves. My only regret is that the man-boy Rondon was not among you. How I would have loved having some fun at his expense. Is that not right, senhor Martin?”

  Martin cackled like a madman, maintaining his rifle’s barrel aimed directly at Roosevelt’s head. Kermit sat passively to Cherrie’s right, his own hands bound and his mouth gagged. Roosevelt noticed Kermit’s nose dripping blood. Theodore Roosevelt closed his eyes and shook his head, recalling Kermit’s minor insurrection only minutes before, and it’s abrupt and inevitable end at the butt-end of Julio’s rifle.

  Theodore Roosevelt seethed. Stay calm, he thought. Keep the hostage-takers occupied with conversation, observe, and probe for weakness.

  Julio de Lima grasped Roosevelt’s hands, drawing them firmly behind Teddy’s back. Julio leaned forward whispering into Roosevelt’s ear like a coiled snake. “And you, Colonel, I remember every degrading remark and every accusation.” Julio pulled the bindings tight. “You rich Americans… You come to Brazil to steal our resources and enslave our peoples. Now it is time for the underclass to fight back. It is time for me to live like a king for a change, not take orders from filthy royalty like you.”

  Roosevelt cringed with pain. “You’re a madman, Julio. You are stealing from nobody but your own native people. Two men cannot survive in this wilderness without help. What you are doing is suicidal.”

  Lieutenant Martin lowered his gun.

  Julio backed away slowly. He stood before all three captives and smiled wryly. “Senhor Martin is a crack assassin with his rifle. He can take out Rondon and his monkey Lyra with little effort, and I can easily remove the doctor. The others should fall into place once the officers are eliminated.”

  “I think you greatly underestimate these men. Most are of sound moral character. They would most likely—”

  “It is you, Colonel, who know little of the camaradas or the men of Brazil. We are all born with so little that we will forge alliances with the devil just to survive botched expeditions like this one. Once these men realize senhor Martin and I are in control and they see the riches we carry, they will side with us. Trust me when I tell you the majority of these men were already quite fed-up with Colonel Rondon’s and your own incompetent leadership. The task will be easier than you might imagine.”

  “What about men like Antonio? Luiz?”

  Julio chuckled. “I never said the task would be without some… very minor difficulties.” Julio turned to Martin, who gleefully issued a quick and rude slicing motion across his own throat. Julio brushed his hand as if removing a pesky flea. “See, senhors, Mr. Martin knows exactly how to handle dissent amongst the rabble.”

  Martin howled with laughter. The Englishman began pacing back and forth gesturing with his hands and muttering to himself. Roosevelt overheard him say, “If only the mighty Arawuua doesn’t eat us all first… chomping us to bits for a light evening snack.”

  Julio’s eyes widened. He shook his head.

  “I think you can plainly see,” Cherrie whispered, “that Lieutenant Martin has completely lost his mind and cannot be trusted.”

  Julio sneered. “Have no worries about Martin, senhor Cherrie. He will do his part when the time is right.”

  “Have you not been paying attention? He has not eaten in over a week, even though he has been offered his due rations several times.”

  “He is accustomed to living on very little.”

  “Even fresh game…”

  “The Nhambacurras survive on next to nothing.”

  “Starvation can fill a man’s mind with illogical thoughts. I have seen it happen on many expeditions.”

  Julio sighed. “Do not play me for a fool, senhor. I understand what you are trying to do. You attempt to divide Martin and myself in a desperate ploy to make your escape.” Julio waved his finger. “This will not work. Any attempt at escape will be met with a bullet directly into Theodore Roosevelt’s brain.”

  “Do not hesitate, George,” Roosevelt interrupted breathlessly. “I am fully prepared to die. Try anything to—”

  “Silence!” Julio hissed. “I must inform you that the second bullet will silence your precious little pampered son.”

  “Listen, Julio,” Cherrie said, attempting to change the subject and calm some frayed nerves. “What do you suppose Martin is doing here? Why did you not just kill the three of us and be on your way?”

  Julio sneered. “Now, you finally speak some sense, senhor. I have questioned this tactic many times since Martin and I agreed to this scheme.”

  “Then why not kill us?”

  Roosevelt had immediate reservations about Cherrie’s present tactics, but lacked any ideas of his own at the moment. I just hope for Kermit’s sake he doesn’t heed the naturalist’s advice.

  Julio sighed with resignation. “Because, senhors, I stick to my side of agreements. I find this to be an inconvenient personal fault. Martin is obsessed with luring the Wide Belt’s giant crocodile into this pit. I think he wants to slaughter the beast to prove some point to the natives.” Julio shrugged. “I suppose every man has a personal journey to fulfill. I told him we were too far from the river to find such a creature, but he simply laughed and waved his hand.”

  “This creature, “Roosevelt said, “may be far more dangerous than a river crocodile.”

  “And it could very well be a forest-dweller,” Cherrie added. “Martin may be correct to wait for the creature here, but Mr. Roosevelt is also correct when he warns that the creature may be more ferocious than you envision.”

  “And yet I agreed,” Julio continued, “to allow him his fun for just one night. I will use the Wide Belt’s shelter to protect me through the evening. The natives were more resourceful than we could ever have imagined.”

  “And how does he intend to lure the beast?”

  Julio laughed perversely. “Unfortunately, senhors, fresh carrion is rare in the deep jungle.”

  Roosevelt closed his eyes. This cannot be happening, he thought repeatedly, testing his hand’s bindings.

  Darkness overtook the clearing. The men watched silently while Martin collected firewood and constructed a fire above the deepest end of the pit. Julio appeared impatient with his role as camp guard and griped constantly of hunger.

  “Eat,” Martin said. “You have stolen more than we can carry. Stop your complaining and eat!”

  Julio opened several cans of the expedition’s stolen provisions. He gulped the precious foodstuff down in minutes. Afterwards, he lay back and gazed into the starry sky.

  Martin, whistling an inappropriately merry and wholly British tune, arranged the hostage’s rifles and ammunition near the fire. Upon finishing his task, he sauntered over to Julio. “Let them see, Julio. Let President Roosevelt and Mr. Cherrie see the diamonds you have plundered. Allow them to see how the gems sparkle in the firelight.”

  Julio sighed deeply. Reluctantly, he reached for his sack of plunder.

  Martin slowly leaned over the Brazilian’s shoulder. Roosevelt noticed an odd gleam in the Englishman’s eyes, followed by a brilliant grin.

  Roosevelt watched in stunned silence while Julio—caught completely off guard—seemingly never noticed the blade of Martin’s knife materialize beneath his chin. Before Julio could react, Martin’s blade slid effortlessly across Julio’s outstretch
ed neck, severing the brawny camarada’s carotid artery.

  CHAPTER 27

  Roosevelt watched wordlessly as Julio de Lima collapsed to the ground like a sack of potatoes just a few feet beyond his own bound ankles. The camarada lay convulsing, his severed throat spewing rivers of blood across the clearing’s floor. Roosevelt could not help but stare into Julio’s blank eyes as his life-force drained away to eternal stillness. Lieutenant Martin straddled his victim like the Colossus of Rhodes, holding his bloodied knife at shoulder height in the grand fashion of a victorious Roman gladiator.

  Roosevelt felt for a moment a surge of hope, but the feeling turned abruptly to confusion and then to despair, watching the Englishman stare at the dying man with eyes the size of saucers and his mouth agape with sickening ecstasy—the look of the criminally insane.

  George Cherrie uttered nothing during the whole brief episode. There is little doubt he is likely as shocked as I am, Roosevelt thought. Almost an afterthought, Roosevelt spied his bound and gagged son a few feet beyond Cherrie. Roosevelt noticed a tiny trickle of dried blood on Kermit’s temple, no doubt from the blow from Julio’s rifle butt a few hours before. Roosevelt felt relieved that his son’s eyes were now open and that he had finally regained consciousness.

  “Unbind us immediately, Lieutenant,” Cherrie said suddenly. Roosevelt detected a bit of desperation in the naturalist’s normally steadfast voice.

  Martin stood his ground, continuing to stare down at Julio. After pausing several seconds, the Englishman suddenly looked up, laughing hysterically.

  “You heard Mr. Cherrie, Lieutenant,” Roosevelt commanded. “Release us and be on your way. We will not stop or hinder you. You have my word!”

  Ignoring Cherrie’s and Roosevelt’s pleas, Martin grasped Julio’s hands and began dragging the limp body away from the hostages and nearer to the pit’s edge. The Englishman dropped his gruesome burden, gasping for breath. Roosevelt overheard him mutter to the corpse. “You are still quite a load, my friend. I see that even a month in the jungle has not pared your bulk.” Martin rubbed his chin. “I wonder…?”