Dinosaur Wars: Earthfall

by Thomas P Hopp

CHAPTER 21

  The time between Ogilvey’s interpretation of Oogon’s death sentence and its implementation was mercifully brief. The drums picked up rhythm as soon as the Kra had cleared the remains of their first victim from the temple floor. When the two guards came for him, Ogilvey went out quietly. His spine tingled as they escorted him through the mob of Kra hissing in anticipation of another blood-orgy. His knees felt weak mounting the altar steps with the horde appreciatively eyeing his arms, legs and belly in anticipation of a feast. No sooner had he reached the altar than Oogon strode from a dark doorway, bedecked in scarlet feathers and in the company of his two sub-priests. The High Priest looked at Ogilvey with the approving gaze of a meat inspector eyeing a side of beef.

  “What a shame,” Ogilvey said to him. “We could have taught each other so much.”

  Oogon squinted at him harshly and muttered, “Olekek tu vatta!”

  Ogilvey pondered the translation for a moment. “Shut up and die.”

  As Oogon took his place beneath the monstrous idol’s jaws, he motioned to the acolytes, who tore Ogilvey’s shirt from him in tatters. They clutched his arms, lifted him off his feet and threw him on the altar. One sub-priest held his hands and the other his feet, stretching him tightly across the stone slab. He swallowed his terror as a horrific cheer went up among the Kra. “How many times,” he mumbled, “have I dreamt of meeting pteronychus in the flesh? This was never how the dreams ended.”

  Oogon lifted his head and issued his shrill cry. The drums beat louder. He raised his hands and began the incantation that had preceded MacIlvain’s sacrifice. “Jalah Eng-Kan!”

  The Kra horde responded in unison. “Tooveet Eng-Kan!”

  Oogon stepped near Ogilvey and another, louder cheer resounded through the temple. Standing over him, Oogon leered approvingly at the soft, white, and all-too-vulnerable belly flesh. The drums pounded louder. Saliva dripped from the deadly fangs and split-splatted on Ogilvey’s belly, causing him to mutter, “Carnivory at its worst, that’s what we have here.” Trying to be brave, he chuckled, “So this is what they mean when they say you’re consumed by your work.”