How Teddy Roosevelt Slew the Last Mighty T-Rex

by Mark Paul Jacobs

  Roosevelt whispered to Cherrie. “We are obviously dealing with an insane man. I doubt we can persuade him with rational argument.”

  “We must be careful, Colonel. He has already proved his willingness to murder without provocation. Any miscalculation could very well be our last.”

  “Lieutenant Martin,” Roosevelt bellowed. “As your commanding officer, I demand you tell us your intentions. Why do you keep us captive? If you desire the jewels, simply gather them up and be on your way. We cannot stop you.”

  Martin laughed heartily. He casually strolled over to Julio’s sack, untied its bindings, and flung its contents across the length and width of the Wide Belt’s pit. He tossed the empty bag toward George Cherrie. “There, gentlemen, I have appeased the Wide Belt’s Gods. Are you satisfied?”

  “Well then, Mr. Martin, just what are your demands? I feel we have every right to know.”

  Martin shook his head, saying softly, “I have no particular demands, Colonel Roosevelt. But I am going to grant you and Mr. Cherrie the greatest favor a scientist can bestow upon another of an equally inquisitive mind. I intend for you to bear witness to the ancient ritual of the Kariati. I only request that you report such to the outside world, that is, if you are fortunate enough to survive…”

  “You’re mad,” Cherrie said flatly. “You wish to lure a living tyrannosaur into this pit and then slaughter the beast singlehandedly? Judging by the size of the footprints we found beside the river, this creature is most likely twelve feet tall and six tons in bulk.”

  “Even the African elephant,” Roosevelt added, “which is considerably smaller and presumably less nimble then this creature, requires several skilled shots from a powerful rifle… even then, the kill may not be assured. I know this from direct experience.”

  Martin grinned. “I have no intention of using a rifle, my simplistic American friends.” Martin reached down and lifted a long spear from the ground. Roosevelt noticed that it was constructed in Wide Belt fashion, yet a hunting knife functioned as the spear’s tip. “An ancient ritual requires traditional weapons, do you both not agree?”

  “You will be killed,” Cherrie said, tugging at his bindings in desperation. “And we will likely die shortly thereafter in the jaws of this beast.”

  “Quite possibly, good chap, but first I must prepare for our special visitor.” Martin looked down at Julio. “Are you ready my greedy friend? It warms my heart knowing you will serve a higher purpose for the first time in your pitiful life. I hope those tins you stole were consumed in earnest, because your flesh should be ample and meaty to be worthy of such a magnificent beast.”

  Martin stripped off his own clothes, and soon he stood stark naked before the hostages and the fire’s flames. He tossed his ragged trousers and shirt into the pit. “There,” he muttered to himself. “That feels much better. Now, I must get down to business.”

  “By the grace of God,” Roosevelt whispered to Cherrie. “He has finally lost all touch with reality. He truly believes he is a native!”

  Martin grabbed his axe and chopped forcefully into Julio’s left leg just above the knee. Roosevelt glanced away in revulsion. Martin chopped repeatedly until the leg broke free. The Englishman whistled a merry English tune while performing his grisly task. Roosevelt noticed Martin’s legs coated in freshly splattered blood.

  Lieutenant Martin systematically removed Julio’s arms, legs, and finally the camarada’s head. Roosevelt and Cherrie watched helplessly, not uttering a word. Roosevelt assumed from Martin’s skilled butchering that he’d worked from experience gained from living amongst the Nhambiquaras, who had long been rumored to practice the abhorrent act of consuming human flesh.

  Martin grabbed the torso by its shirt and dragged it toward the pit’s edge. He shoved the bloody mass into the deepest part of the pit. Martin grabbed each leg, tossing them into the forest near the pit’s mouth.

  “Bait,” Cherrie said. “The smells of fresh kill for a predator.”

  “Or scavenger,” Roosevelt countered. “Either way, some will certainly come, whether it is jaguar or monstrous beast.”

  Martin continued his ghastly butchering as the stars shone brightly above the clearing through a cloudless sky. The Englishman, now almost completely covered in human blood, gathered up most of Julio’s remaining body parts and distributed the bloody slabs near and around the pit. Roosevelt noticed Martin setting aside parts of Julio’s upper arm, and his stomach turned imagining Martin’s intentions with the leftover flesh.

  Roosevelt calculated that midnight had passed, and with Martin currently occupied organizing and discarding Julio’s body parts, he whispered to Cherrie. “The moon should be full and directly overhead in a few hours. We can attempt our escape within its light, if the opportunity presents itself.”

  “I’ve tried for hours without success to pry my binding loose, Colonel. I’m afraid they were tied securely. What about yours?”

  Roosevelt maneuvered his wrists against the small of his back. He felt a measurable gap between his hands. Struggling mightily, he couldn’t pull the binding over either palm. “I’m very close,” Roosevelt said. “Apparently, Julio failed to bind my hands as well as he did yours. He most likely underestimated my strength and tenacity to escape. That may have been his final miscalculation!”

  “Good, good.”

  “But, even if I manage to free my cuffs, what do you suggest we do? The rifles and ammunition are stockpiled close to Martin and the pit.”

  “We need a diversion. We need some way to distract a madman.”

  “One step at a time, George. For now, we will speak of this no further.”

  George Cherrie nodded in agreement.

  Martin returned to the fire and placed Julio’s dismembered arms gently upon its glowing coals. Theodore Roosevelt’s stomach churned. Roosevelt had seen evidence of cannibalism practiced by the tribes of Africa but never by an individual born of such an honored and traditional culture. More bemused than shocked, Roosevelt had little of substance to say to the naked Englishman: “And all this time I figured you a civilized man, Lieutenant, but apparently, I was mistaken.”

  Martin laughed. “Humans have consumed their own kind since the dawn of man, Mr. Roosevelt. This meat will provide me great comfort and rejuvenate my weakened body. I will need all my strength to confront the beast, would you not agree?”

  “Release us from these bonds,” Cherrie said. “And the three of us will help you slay this creature.”

  “But you will try to escape and ruin my fun, Mr. Cherrie. Even in this darkness, I can see it in your eyes and sense it in your voice.”

  “Three rifles will most certainly provide better odds than a single man with a spear,” Roosevelt added.

  “Gentlemen, the wisdom of the Amazonian natives is far superior to those of the so-called civilized world. When I was amongst the Navaïté, their shamans revealed to me a closely guarded secret about the mighty Arawuua. The creature can be killed with a single spear-thrust into its neck, but the penetration must be precise and sever the creature’s artery. It is said the beast will bleed out and die very quickly.”

  “And if you fail in your first attempt?” Cherrie asked.

  Martin shrugged. “Then I believe we will all suffer the consequences of the creature’s wrath.”

  “You have gone completely mad.”

  “Perhaps… yet, if I succeed, I will rank with the greatest warriors and scientists the world has ever known! Newton… Darwin… Julius Caesar!”

  “You will be regarded as none of these,” Roosevelt said flatly. “You will be greeted with scorn and ridicule, and then you will be imprisoned for kidnapping and promptly hanged for murder. Colonel Rondon will see that justice is done.”

  “Colonel Rondon is a fool, but he pales in comparison to the British and their utter hypocrisy. They have conquered a quarter of the world to butcher, rape, pillage, and plunder—all in the name of Her Majesty. And the Americans act no better as their influence swells
on the world’s stage; no small thanks to you and your despicable policies, Mr. Roosevelt.”

  “So, what exactly happened in South Africa?” George Cherrie asked suddenly. “Did the children cry for mercy before you murdered them in cold blood?”

  Martin sat silently for a moment, inspecting the human bicep sizzling on the flames before him. Roosevelt caught a whiff of the searing flesh and promptly gagged. Just the thought of burning human skin turned his stomach, although its smell was indistinguishable from the monkey-meat they enjoyed along their journey. “Almost time for a midnight snack,” Martin said.

  “You did not answer my question,” Cherrie pressed.

  Theodore Roosevelt instantly recognized George Cherrie’s strategy. Provoke the kidnapper until he lowers his guard. Bravo! This was certainly a courageous and brilliant maneuver.

  Martin shook his head. “Poor Julio, he was as strong as an ox, although he proved just as vapid in the end. My greatest blunder was choosing such an inept co-conspirator.”

  “Did you kill all those people?”

  Martin sighed. “You are quickly becoming quite a bore, Mr. Cherrie.”

  Roosevelt asked, “But innocent women and children…? How could you do such a thing?”

  Martin removed Julio’s smoldering bicep from the fire and set it aside to cool. “One does what one must, Colonel Roosevelt. The women and children were just a small sacrifice for the common good of all South Africans…”

  Martin stood quietly for a few moments. Even at some distance and shrouded in shadow, Roosevelt felt Martin drifting into some dark and mysterious corner of his overt insanity.

  Martin continued, softly, “You should have seen their tiny faces flushed with terror and begging for mercy.” Martin shrugged as if brushing demons from his brain. “Perhaps they were better off dead than living under Britain’s crushing hand.”

  “But the innocent—”

  “Spare me, President Roosevelt. I acted no differently than your own legions did to your Native Americans. None of us can claim complete innocence, can we? The pendulum of moral absolutism and high-mindedness swings both ways.”

  Martin grasped the meat and ripped out a huge chunk with his discolored teeth. He chewed slowly before swallowing the first morsel. He closed his eyes and then tore into Julio’s flesh like a ravenous dog. Theodore Roosevelt promptly looked away.

  Martin giggled like a schoolgirl. “This is undoubtedly the finest meal I’ve had in months! Are you two certain you would not like a bite? I’m afraid I’m fresh out of tea. And with all of these delicious smells permeating the jungle, our friend will surely pay a visit. Only then will the real excitement commence!”

  Roosevelt noticed the sky brightening with the approach of the full moon that hovered just beneath the trees to the west. Roosevelt maneuvered his wrists again, finally freeing his left hand. Hurriedly, he stretched his cramped fingers before untying his right wrist. Roosevelt caught Cherrie’s eye and grinned.

  Cherrie nodded in response.

  “And just how did you receive those nasty scars on your back,” Cherrie said. “Did the British deal you some of their own brand of justice while you awaited the sentence you so rightly deserved?”

  Martin tossed Julio’s remains into the pit. He turned slowly toward Cherrie.

  Roosevelt sensed immediately that Cherrie had finally struck some hidden nerve. My friend has just struck gold. And just in time!

  Martin reached up and gently stroked the jagged ridges crisscrossing his bony shoulder. “No, Mr. Cherrie, these scars were not the result of the British justice system, but they were the handiwork of a British patriarch, nonetheless.” Martin grabbed his spear and sat on the ground just a few feet in front of the captives.

  Roosevelt noticed a distant blankness in Martin’s stare. Just come a little closer, Roosevelt thought. A bit closer….

  “I was shipped off by my Aunt to a prestigious boarding school in Derbyshire when I was a mere innocent lad of fourteen. My father had been dead for many years and my mother, a pathetic shell of a human being, was a worthless alcoholic. But my dear Auntie inherited a comfortable sum and took me under her wing.

  “My grades were always exemplary, but I eventually became bored and fell in for some schoolboy tomfoolery for which I promptly ended up in the Headmaster’s office awaiting punishment of the sort I had not previously been privileged to endure.

  “The Headmaster, a stern and proper family man in his late forties, lectured me of my bad behavior. Then he grabbed a heavy wooden paddle and whacked my backside several times. The pain was mild compared to my bruised sense of self-worth, but there was something else that struck me oddly as I played the incident out in my own mind over the next several days and weeks.

  “So I continued to get into more mischief and I was sent to the Headmaster where he administered increasing harsher punishment, sometimes hitting me hard enough that the welts lasted for days, and yet I still could not get enough to satisfy my… unique hunger.

  “After a month of these staged encounters, I noticed a fleeting glimmer in the Headmaster’s eyes. He invited me to his home, claiming that his wife and children were away for the weekend, whereupon I beheld—much to my sheer delight—an abundance of odd artifacts and devises scattered throughout the Headmaster’s dank cellar.

  “At first the games were mildly mischievous, but as boredom took hold over several months, we began to escalate our adventures to greater heights, including the bullwhip welts you see evidenced on my back. Several of my bones were shattered during these encounters, yet I lived in unparalleled ecstasy, much of which I could not explain at the time, being so young.”

  Roosevelt returned Cherrie’s befuddled glance with a shake of his head and widened eyes.

  “About a year after beginning our little dalliance, the Headmaster made an odd request. He asked that I allow him to choke me to the point of asphyxiation but relent at the very the moment of losing consciousness. This was the most dangerous of our games but I felt so utterly unable to control my basic urges in any way. We took turns binding one another’s neck until the blood ceased to flow to our brains, and yet I still remained unsatisfied. It was then I realized I was beyond all hope—nothing short of death would fulfill my deepest needs.

  “So I tied the cloth around the Headmaster’s neck and drew tightly, but when he signaled me to relent, I pulled even tighter. I will always remember the look of terror on his smug face as he gasped his last breaths, much like those helpless Afrikaners and our friend Simplicio when he swam to shore looking for a friendly, helping hand that he unfortunately never received.”

  “You should have committed yourself to an asylum,” Roosevelt said woefully. “Even as a schoolboy, you must have known this was deviant behavior.”

  Martin shrugged. “The Headmaster was hardly missed in the end. His family covered up his death out of embarrassment, and I resumed school under no suspicion. Besides, with me being a mere lad, would his manner of depravity not be considered even more deplorable?”

  “Lieutenant Martin!” George Cherrie cried suddenly. “You must release us all immediately!”

  Theodore Roosevelt knew in an instant what caught the naturalist’s attention. All around them, the usual sounds of the nocturnal jungle forest had abruptly silenced.

  CHAPTER 28

  Martin grabbed his spear and scampered back to the pit’s edge. He stood frozen peering out over the shadowy jungle. Abruptly, he kicked the fire’s ashes aside until only some smoldering logs remained.

  With Martin occupied and his hands freed, Roosevelt fell to his side and pulled at his ankle’s bindings.

  “Hurry, Colonel,” Cherrie hissed. “Get to the rifles!”

  “I’m trying my best,” Roosevelt muttered breathlessly. “Damn-it, they may… have to be…cut.”

  Martin crouched low and crept slowly around the outside of the pit and then downward toward the jungle. He halted, leaving thirty feet of open space between him and the forest. Martin r
aised his spear and stood motionless.

  “Colonel, Look!”

  Roosevelt suddenly felt the jungle move. He leaned up and turned toward the dim forest. Beyond the moon-lit clearing, he heard small trees crunch and scrubs pushed asunder. Listening closer, he heard the unmistakable sounds of deep guttural breathing. Something about this situation triggered a vivid memory—tracking the mighty bull elephant in deepest Africa, the beast lurking in the dark forests of the savannah; although this felt larger, quicker, and far more dangerous.

  Roosevelt noticed the blood-stained axe lying just ten feet away, and he began slithering like a serpent toward the smoldering fire. Suddenly Roosevelt heard a cavernous growl, like the sound of a big cat but with the deep resonance of a rhinoceros. His heart raced.

  “Colonel!”

  Nearly out of breath, Roosevelt saw that the axe was now within his reach. Lying on his side, Roosevelt extended his arm and grabbed the handle, pulling it inward toward his feet. He bent awkwardly, chopping at his ankle’s bindings.

  Beyond the pit, the forest exploded.

  Roosevelt looked up. An immense grey mass sprung forward from the shadows. Roosevelt lay frozen, mesmerized by the creature’s gigantic stature and its snakelike eyes that glinted in the moonlight. Just barely discerning the monster’s form in the darkness, Roosevelt noted it standing on two legs with two small forehands that offered little practical function—very close to how Osborn had envisioned the beast from its ancient skeletal remains. The monster swung its menacing head back and forth across the clearing, drawing scent through its elongated snout. Roosevelt’s heart thumped.

  Martin held his spear at chest height as the shadowy mass advanced with a terrifying roar and toothy jaws that snapped like an angry crocodile. With a nimble pitch to its left, the monster bypassed the pit’s opening, instead lurching upward along the pit’s edge and directly toward the waiting Martin.