Tyrant: A Prehistoric Thriller
Author: Michael Cole
Date: 2025-12-07 08:00:00+00:00
Description: When Faith Lorrell comes across a stopped freight train in the remote San Zechariah Valley, she expects a routine delay—not a wrecked boxcar, a mutilated corpse, and a deadly secret breaking loose into the night. Prehistoric creatures have escaped their transport, and as the body count climbs, Faith is thrust into a fight for survival. Hunted by both the rampaging dinosaurs and the ruthless corporation desperate to hide its crimes, Faith forms an unlikely alliance with a reluctant employee… and a surprisingly docile triceratops. But the true nightmare is still ahead. A razor-fast raptor prowls
Publisher: SEVERED Press

TYRANT

A novel by Michael Cole

www.severedpress.com

Copyright 2025 by Ethan Richards

Chapter 1

“Did you hear that?”

Jacob parted his lips from Hannah’s neck and turned his eyes to the vast valley on the other side of his truck’s windshield. All he saw was a twilight sky, a gravel road, and a column of trees… and, beside him, a beautiful woman.

“There’s nothing out there,” he said.

“But I heard something.” Hannah fixed her shirt – much to Jacob’s disappointment – and leaned forward to inspect their surroundings. “I can’t believe you didn’t hear it. It was like a big crash. Like, maybe an accident happened.”

Jacob kept his eyes on the top buttons of her shirt, completely disinterested in the source of her concerns. It had been a long and grueling day constructing the new suburb community. The valley of San Zechariah was a vast rural area. For most of its history, it had been populated by farmers and some scattered homes and cabins used by staff of a logging company and out-of-town visitors. Generally speaking, it was a quiet region. But with the expansion of migrating populations and the evolving economy, demands for housing began to rise. Thus, San Zechariah’s first suburb community had been greenlit.

Jacob’s shirt was dusty from the day’s labor. He hadn’t bothered changing out of it, for he figured he wouldn’t be wearing it much longer. The main thing that had kept Jacob going through the twelve hours was the thought of picking Hannah up from the hotel and having a little ‘countryside action’. It was nice and quiet out here. They were practically isolated. Ironically, out here in the open, they had more privacy than at the hotel in town. Every night after work, the other workers would hound Jacob and Hannah about going to the bar with them. They never took no for an answer. By the time they returned to their room, Hannah was always too tired to partake in sex.

It would figure some random noise would spook her.

“It was probably just thunder,” he said.

“No, that wasn’t thunder,” she replied. “That sounded like an impact of some sort. Like something got smashed, or exploded.”

Jacob laughed at that. “Babe, I’ve actually gotten to blow things up at work. Cool thing about my job is occasionally, we get to play with dynamite. Trust me, if there was an explosion, we would know.”

She shot him a look, then smiled. “Is that right? We would know, huh? Maybe I would know. You, on the other hand, would be too preoccupied to notice anything else in the world.”

Jacob smiled and shrugged. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Much to his delight, Hannah let her shirt open back up. He was quick to move over to her side. His mouth went for her neck like a vampire. His hands went to work undoing the remaining buttons on her shirt for searching for her bra strap. The intensifying of Hannah’s breathing spurred him on. Having gone over a week without action, he was dying for relief.

Hannah tilted her head back, smiling as her man enjoyed himself with her flesh. His hands clawed at her back, struggling to undo that damn bra strap.

A blur of motion outside the windshield made her shriek. In an automatic reflex, she pushed Jacob off of her.

He pursed his lips, elbow resting against the driver’s side window. “There was no sound, Hannah. I was listening this time.”

“No, no.” She pointed through the glass. “I saw something.”

Jacob, frustrated and impatient, turned to look. As he expected, he saw nothing but trees and gravel.

“Would you like a beer?” he asked.

Once again, Hannah closed her shirt up. “No. I think there’s someone out there.”

Jacob shook his head. “Babe, we’re in the middle of nowhere. It’s precisely why I picked this spot. The only other people in these parts are farmers, for the most part. You probably just saw a deer or a mountain lion or something.”

Hannah perked up. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?!”

“Ugh!” Jacob put his head in his hands. He could not believe how this evening was going. “Babe, they’re not monsters. They don’t like to come near vehicles.”

Hannah nodded. After a few moments of silence, she began to relax.

“You sure?”

“Yes, babe. I’m sure. Mountain lions aren’t in the habit of coming near big pickup trucks. To them, trucks are like big animals. It’d be like a hyena trying to piss off a rhino. Trust me, if there is a mountain lion out there, it’s gonna stay clear of us…”

THUMP!!!

The truck rocked as a heavy mass entered the truck bed. Jacob and Hannah whipped around and saw the brown fur and hunched shoulders of a two-hundred-pound North American cougar behind the rear windshield. Its ears were pointed back and its jaw was parted, revealing long, dagger-like fangs.

“Oh my God!” Hannah shouted.

Jacob waved his hand at her. “Shh! Shh! Shh! Just relax! Don’t aggravate it. It can’t get through the glass.”

“You said they wouldn’t come near the truck!”

“Yes, I know what I said. Now calm down. It’ll go away, as long as we don’t piss it off.”

They gave the cat another look. It was constantly shifting, constantly looking past the passenger-side taillight. Blood seeped from a large gash near its hind quarters.

“You see that?” Hannah whispered.

Jacob nodded. “Yeah. What the hell happened to it?”

They both shivered as the cat hunched its shoulders again and let out a gravelly scream.

A fast series of beats drew near… running footsteps.

All of a sudden, the truck was rocking back and forth like a sailboat in a hurricane. The cat hissed and cried out, its form lost in a blur of action, for something else had entered the bed of the pickup.

Jacob could hear another series of growling sounds. The intruder had dark skin and a body shape he had never seen before in an animal. Its movements were fast and jerky, making it difficult to determine what it was. Hannah’s screaming did not help, nor did the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

All he knew was that this thing was no mountain lion.

“Jacob! Get us out of here!” Hannah cried.

A SMACK against the rear windshield made her shriek. A curtain of blood had painted the outside, further obscuring the identity of the attacker.

Jacob turned to the noise of what sounded like a bowling ball being tossed to the ground outside his window. Trailing a thin line of blood, the cat’s severed head rolled across the gravel road. A second, heavier thump alerted him to the discarding of the cat’s disemboweled body.

The assailant did not leave the back of the truck. Clawed feet scraped the floor of the bed as the thing repositioned itself to face the cab.

Hannah and Jacob ducked down in their seats.

“Jacob…”

“Shh. Don’t move. It’ll go away…”

SMASH!!!

Its head came through the glass like a battering ram through the doors of a castle. Through the razor-sharp haze of flying glass was a long, angular snout, armed with curved teeth. Those jaws parted and a murderous screech filled the cab.

Two arms, tipped with three clawed fingers each, pulled the beast further into the vehicle.

Hannah flailed and screamed.

Jacob, consumed with the madness that accompanied intense fright, twisted the ignition and floored the engine.

He felt a hot, moist breath on his right shoulder. The reptilian snout emerged over the center console, the big left eye parallel with Jacob’s face.

This time, it was he who screamed.

Blinded by terror, he drove across the gravel road, straight into the base of a tree. His head smacked against the steering wheel, the airbag failing to deploy.

His senses were cloudy. For a few moments, he thought maybe he was asleep, adrift in some horrible nightmare.

The sound of Hannah’s screams and the sensation of her foot hitting his shoulder confirmed otherwise.

Jacob looked over his right shoulder just in time to see Hannah’s bare feet exiting through the rear windshield. He shouted her name and tried to reach for her, his hand finding a shard of glass instead.

Hannah’s screams intensified. She was now somewhere on the ground. Next came a chorus of retching sounds and violent motion.

Jacob opened his door and jumped out of the truck. Armed with nothing but his fists, he ran behind his vehicle. His stoic-ness and protective instincts vanished after he beheld the sight of Hannah’s fate.

She was on her side, blood dripping from her mouth and shoulders. Standing above her was the creature. It stood on two hind legs, each foot armed with a fifteen-inch sickle-shaped claw. Equally as sharp were the three digits on each hand.

With a single raking motion, Hannah’s shirt and bra were reduced to ribbons of fabric. The jaws snapped shut on the delicate flesh underneath. With a shake and a tug, everything covering her heart was removed.

Hannah lay on her back, eyes wide, her chest wide open.

The thing tilted its head back and gulped down its mouthful of protein. It turned its head, sensing the presence of its spectator.

Jacob backed away and placed his hands up, as though hopeful he could make peace with the predator. It took a step in his direction, its long tail swaying behind its hips. Bits of meat dangled between its teeth… flesh that was once part of Hannah’s beautiful body, now reduced to ground beef.

His was next.

The creature pedaled its legs and tackled the flustered construction worker to the ground. His body spasmed, his brain overloaded with a thousand simultaneous nerve signals. All he could do was gag and endure the agony of having his body flayed open and his guts forcibly removed.

The relief he sought now was death.

Chapter 2

The massive claw plunged into its target and turned inward until it was in a half-coiled pose.

Faith Lorrell cranked the lever and lifted the excavator’s arm from the earth. She swung the enormous scoop of dirt to the right and deposited it into the bed of Tanner Houston’s dump truck. She coiled the bucket and patted the dirt down as best she could.

As she did, Alfredo flattened the newly cleared space with his bulldozer. In a few months, a two-story house would be standing in this very spot.

The horn blew from somewhere near the trailers. It was a crude and old-fashioned way of signaling the end of a shift, but the crew of the Mosser Construction company wouldn’t have it any other way. Especially not today, when most of them worked between ten and sixteen hours. It was a big job, but the client was not keen on getting charged by the week. There would be no dragging this contract out any longer than it needed to be. The company owner, Gary Mosser, agreed to a flat sum, with additional charges in order to pay his staff overtime and holiday pay. The only way this gig would be complete in the desired timeframe would be if everyone worked long, shitty hours.

For Faith and her coworkers, long shitty hours meant lots of dough. At least they did not have to work overnight. THAT she would have despised, no matter the pay.

She drove the excavator to the eastern end of the construction site and parked. The moment she stepped out, she dug a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket and planted one in her mouth.

“’Bout damn time! I thought the day would never end.”

Tanner stepped out of the fully-loaded dump truck and approached her, hand extended to accept a smoke.

“That’s because you’re here from sunrise to sunset. The days never seem to end because they blend together after a while.”

Faith let him pull a cigarette and extended her lighter. They took a few draws, then started walking to their vehicles.

“Jacob already take off?” she asked.

“Clocked out maybe an hour ago. I saw his truck heading that way after a quick stop at the hotel.” Tanner pointed southwest into the interior of the valley. Down that way was nothing but farmland and rural countryside. That knowledge alone informed Faith of what Jacob had in mind.

She stuck her tongue out. “Blech.”

To be fair, she really couldn’t blame the guy. This dry little town was going to be their new home for the next few months. Once the land was leveled out, they would begin laying the foundations for at least forty houses. According to the client, once a few deals were completed, he would probably purchase a few more acres of land, where another home community would be erected. From the sounds of it, he was already receiving inquiries regarding the units that were about to be constructed.

Of course, Mr. Mosser wanted that contract.

On the one hand, Faith didn’t mind the idea. Personally, she benefited financially. Better yet, she had one advantage over her coworkers. She didn’t have to concern herself with staying in a hotel. It just so happened a cousin of hers owned a property in the area, and generously gave Faith permission to stay there during the contract. With the cousin living with her husband in Seattle, Faith essentially had the place to herself, free of charge. If there was any downside, it was that the place was thirty minutes away. Given the circumstances, there were far bigger issues to be had. She would only have to shop the town of Redbud once every so often and keep the place tidy. The bed was comfortable and she was removed from the temptation of visiting the local bars and diners every evening.

“You heading home?” Tanner asked.

Faith let her cigarette dangle from her teeth as she dug for her truck keys. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh! You didn’t know?”

Faith shook her head and shrugged, impatiently waiting for whatever the surprise was.

“The fireworks show!” shouted a very enthusiastic Alfredo. He strutted up to Faith and plucked a cig from her already outstretched pack. She was used to these two stealing smokes off her at the end of the day. It had pretty much become a tradition at this point.

“Someone’s hosting a fireworks show?” she said with a grin. “I don’t suppose some major festival is coming all the way out here.”

“No,” Tanner said. “Just Bradley.”

Right on cue, a barrage of firecrackers started popping off behind the trailers. Standing a couple of meters from the deafening cracks was Bradley Lowinski. He turned to face the crowd of construction workers and bowed like a professional stage performer.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is but a taste of the show I’ll be putting on tonight.”

“Congratulations,” Faith said in a dry tone. “You popped off a bunch of firecrackers. Oooh!”

“How’d you not know about this?” Bradley said with a laugh. “I’ve put up flyers all over the valley. Word on the street is a bunch of people east of the town will be coming to watch.”

“Might help to smooth public relations, so to speak,” Tanner added.

“Great,” Faith said. “Let me know how it goes.”

Bradley snorted. “What? You’re not staying?”

“No, I’m going. I’ve been here since six. I want a shower, a beer, and a sandwich. All three are waiting for me at home.”

“Aw, come on!” Bradley complained.

“We can buy you all the sandwiches and beer you want in town,” Tanner added.

Faith sighed and looked toward the town area. Redbud pretty much resembled the conventional one-horse town you see in the movies. There was one main street that connected the entire place. It felt like something out of a Western, aside from the Taco Bell sign. There was a hotel, a church, a few diners, and a local grocery store among some other businesses. Even the sheriff’s station looked like something out of an Old Western.

West of the town area was nothing but a few ranches scattered across the valley. To the east were a few sparsely populated neighborhoods, each with at least a few acres of land. There was just enough of a population to keep the shop owners satisfied. Nobody wanted to head into the city for their supplies. Whenever anyone needed their beer and groceries, they came here.

The thought of beer cemented Faith’s decision. Specifically beer and solitude.

“No thanks. I’m good,” she said.

“If the shower’s the issue, the one in my room works pretty well,” Tanner said with a wink.

Faith snorted. Big surprise, Tanner wanted to see her naked. In other news, water is wet.

“I appreciate your selflessness,” she remarked.

Tanner laughed. “Hey, I’m the one sacrificing my hot water.”

“Uh-huh.” She punched his shoulder and walked to her truck. She stood by the door and pressed the unlock button on her fob. Ready to leave, she opened the door and planted one foot on the floor.

It was at that moment she heard what she could only describe as a sizzling sound coming from the ground.

“The hell?”

She backed away and searched for the noise. There, by her front tire, she saw what appeared to be a line of really tiny sparks. A burning fuse, leading right up to a set of firecrackers.

They popped off at the rate of heavy machine gun fire. Faith jumped back, her arms flailing like the wings of a chicken.

“Goddamn! Motherfucking shit!”

Next came a pair of laughing goons emerging from behind cover a couple of vehicles down. It was Eddie and Bart, two overweight boneheads who always felt like they needed to be the funniest guys on site. Like a pair of five-year-olds, they pointed at Faith and continued laughing.

“Whew!” Bart exclaimed. “You should have seen your face!”

Eddie put his hands to his face and mimicked her reaction, dancing as though he had ants in his pants. “Wahh!”

She glared at the two idiots. “See my face now?”

Their laughter subsided. Somewhat.

“Just keeping you on your toes,” Eddie said.

“Right.” Faith looked past them at Bradley. “Maybe aim a few Roman candles in their direction during your show tonight.” She climbed into the cab of her truck, stopping briefly to point at the jokesters. “Don’t you two even THINK about coming over to my place and setting off more of those things.”

“What? Us?!” Bart said. “Never!”

“I’m serious. If I wake up to fireworks outside my door, I’m going ‘Punisher’ on your asses.”

“Oh yes,” Bart moaned. “Punish us, babe.” The two idiots started laughing again.

Faith rolled her eyes. Of course, most of the guys on this job had their heads in the gutter. She shook her head and buckled in.

“Good night, guys!”

She slammed the door shut, started the truck, and took off for home.

Chapter 3

Faith may have thought San Zechariah to be a beautiful valley, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to take a bulldozer and concrete truck to this damn dirt road. It was called Bengal Road, and it cut across the entire valley from east to west. Why it could not simply be named the ‘main road’ or something like that was beyond Faith’s understanding.

Maybe whoever named this road was a fan of the football team.

She wasn’t truly bothered by the name. Like most other things, it served as a distraction.

What did bother her was the fact a road this size was made entirely of dirt. Every time she drove to and from work, she formulated a speech in her mind to convince Mr. Mosser to get a contract with the county to pave a freeway. Granted, that would put them at odds with the farming community. Most of them had descended from many generations and were not keen on seeing their valley transformed. Even if that meant a better freaking road to drive on.

The Cowell family was a perfect example of this mindset. Faith could not help but cringe whenever she passed their front driveway. She glanced to her left as she drove by.

Mrs. Dana Cowell was riding her horse in the side yard. She glanced in Faith’s direction, wearing her usual sneer on her face. Faith swore that expression never changed. Mr. Cowell wasn’t much different. It was during the second day on the job when Faith and her coworkers learned the Cowells’ personalities matched their expressions.

They had marched onto the job site, complaining that the construction vehicles were upsetting the livestock. Dana did most of the talking, while her husband simply stood there, arms crossed, trying to look imposing. The job foreman, a grizzled man named Bob Keen, was quick to tell them off. He was generally a good-natured guy with a sense of humor, but he had no patience for bullshit.

The second encounter with the Cowells occurred a week later. Again, it was Dana who took charge of the instigation, though this time, her husband offered a few more unfriendly words than before. It started a few minutes after Faith arrived for work that morning. According to Dana, she had driven off the road and hit their mailbox. This Hail Mary attempt to halt the company’s progress was short-lived. The thing about overly emotional liars acting on compulsion was that they did not think their lies through. In this instance, it was unlikely Faith would have destroyed a mailbox without at least scratching her truck a bit. Such a point was brought up by the sheriff, whom Bob Keen called as soon as the Cowells showed their bitter faces on the site. In actuality, they had damaged their own property in an unconvincing attempt to frame Faith, and by extension, Mosser.

Faith understood the resentment, even if she strongly opposed the tactics. It was a gorgeous valley populated by people who were set in their ways. Now all of that was changing. Already, it was evident there would be not just one housing community, but many. A generation from now, this valley may end up looking entirely different.

But that was the way of things. All Faith could concern herself with was her job and remaining on the straight and narrow.

Faith pulled the empty pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and tossed it onto her passenger seat. With those knuckleheads always snitching them off her, she ran out pretty quickly. Keeping one hand on the wheel, she reached over to the glove box, where she kept a full pack, precisely for moments like this. She opened the little compartment, clumsily spilling a small stack of papers she was too lazy to get rid of.

Faith stared at the label at the top of the first page with contempt. University of New Hampshire. Below that was a line that read: Application for Admittance.

She crammed the papers back into their dungeon and quickly helped herself to a smoke. She needed one more than ever, now. She mentally chastised herself for directing any bitterness at the college. Neither the university nor its staff wronged her in any way. It was what took place at her dorm that sparked feelings of anger – anger directed at herself.

Right on cue, her phone started vibrating.

Faith glanced at the screen and sighed. It was her mom. She picked up the device and rested her thumb over the green ‘answer’ button. There it remained, hovering one millimeter over the screen. Yet, it was too far for her to commit.

The call went to voicemail. Faith already knew what was being said. She had already gotten a couple of texts from Mom this morning. ‘Hi honey. Haven’t heard from you in a while. I miss you.’ The next one got right to the larger issue. ‘Honey, I know why you’ve been signing up for all of these far-away jobs. Running away is not necessary, Faith. I do not blame you for what happened.’

She gave a long look at the voicemail notification, then swiped over it. The little red comma disappeared, the alert acknowledged and swiftly forgotten.

Faith lit a cigarette and focused on the road. She passed a small three-way intersection with another dirt road. Like most of these country roads, it had what she considered a dumb ‘rural’ name. Red Cherry Road. Who named it that and what were they thinking?

She continued on, eventually reaching the bend where Bengal Road met up with the railroad tracks. They curved in from the north and angled west, running parallel with the road for a couple of miles.

Looking up ahead, she could see a train. It appeared to be stopped. She didn’t think much of it. She had seen plenty of stopped trains in her life. Faith wasn’t really familiar with the operating procedures of such machines. Her expertise was construction vehicles.

It was an interesting-looking train. It only had six cars, all of which were far larger than any she had seen before. They were roughly sixty feet or more in length. That wasn’t so unusual. It was the height that caught her eye. These box cars had to be reaching nearly twenty feet in height.

She found herself doing a double-take as she came up near the rear box car. Its steel side had peeled outwards like flower petals, framing a massive hole.

Faith’s heart skipped a beat. She may not have known much about trains, but she sure as hell knew THAT wasn’t normal.

Nor was the body lying in the road straight ahead.

Faith gasped and slammed her foot on the brake. The truck came to a skidding stop, kicking up a few thin clouds of dust. Sweaty hands gripped the steering wheel as Faith stared with wide eyes and a tight throat, slowly registering what it was she was looking at.

Even though it was right in front of her face, she still questioned her senses. Was she really looking at a dead body? The person was face-down on the ground, arms stretched over his head. It almost appeared the guy was thrown to the ground.

She looked at where he lay and its distance from the train. Was he somehow thrown from it? That theory didn’t make sense, but then again, nothing about this made sense. Least of all, the damage to the rear box car. Pieces of its side were scattered on the grass between the track and the road, as if something exploded inside.

Faith put the truck in park and hurried over to the man. Maybe he was just unconscious. Either way, she needed to find out before placing a call to the sheriff’s office.

“Sir? Can you hear me? Are you…”

As she knelt beside him, she saw the blood that had soaked the dirt beneath him.

Faith’s hands shook as she slowly reached for the man’s shoulders. The flesh under the torn fabric was cold and pale. She pulled the man to his side and reached with two fingers to check his pulse. She didn’t need to, for he had no face, nor a throat. Just a crushed, skinless skull and a disemboweled midsection. Like the wall of the box car, the man’s belly was pulled apart, revealing… and scattering… everything it contained.

Faith jumped to her feet and screamed.

Right away, she felt dizzy. Adrenaline and shock joined forces in warping her senses and coordination. Every step she took to return to her truck was a stumble. Hoisting herself into the cab took twice as much strength, as if gravity itself had doubled its powerful force.

Faith threw herself in the driver’s seat and fumbled for her phone.

“Oh, God! Oh, God!”

“Hey you! Hold up!”

She sat up and peered through the windshield. A man, dressed in cargo pants and an equally black vest, pointed at her from the train engine. He leaned back and waved to someone else.

“What?” the unseen individual called out.

“There’s someone here. She has a pickup truck.”

The second man stepped into view and gave a look in Faith’s direction. “Yeah, that’ll work. We should be able to fit it into the bed. But we need to move now. It can’t be too far away.”

He vanished into the front car, then reappeared with two long, black objects.

Rifles.

Faith shrieked and grabbed at the truck lever. The men were fast, arriving at her window in a few short seconds. They were also evidently desperate, given the fact they were pointing a pistol at her chest.

`She raised her hands. “Oh my God! Please don’t hurt me!”

The men shared a glance, each looking to the other for guidance on what to do with her.

“Make her sit in the back,” the man with the rifles said.

“But if she sees-”

“We’ll worry about that later. Right now, we have to go!”

The man with the pistol looked at Faith and tilted his head to the back seat. “Get over.”

Not daring to risk a bullet in her lungs, Faith complied. She kept her hands close to her chest as the two men occupied the front seats, the one with the pistol taking the wheel.

“I’m sorry, but we have to do this,” the man with the rifles said.

The driver shifted her truck into drive and eased past the dead body. “That left turn up ahead; I think it went that way.”

“Then go!” the rifleman said.

As soon as they passed the dead body, the driver had to hit the brakes as a third man came running from the second train car. Unlike them, he was not tactically dressed, but instead wore jeans and a white dress shirt.

“Hey! Hey! What are you guys doing? Steve?! You’re not seriously hijacking a vehicle, are you?!”

The rifleman, whose name Faith concluded to be Steve, rolled his window down.

“Don’t have a choice, Neil! We’ve gotta catch it before it gets too far! Stay here and watch the big one. Make sure it doesn’t wake up.”

The man in the white shirt threw his hands out. He tilted his head to look at the driver.

“Martin?! This is going too far.”

“Shut up, Doc, and do as you’re told,” the driver, Martin, replied.

“But what about the trike?” Neil asked.

“You said yourself it’ll hunker down somewhere. The other one, on the other hand, is more liable to cause problems. Now move!” Martin cut the wheel to the left and floored the accelerator, leaving the man named Neil literally in the dust.

Faith clung to herself as they made a sharp left turn down Denver Road. Rifles, ‘trike’, ‘big one’… she could not put the pieces together.

“Who are you? What are we chasing?”

Chapter 4

Faith’s question fell on deaf ears. The two men, Martin and Steve, were laser-focused in their pursuit of whatever it was they were chasing.

She took a couple of deep breaths and tried to settle her heart rate. The only thing more unnerving than the sight of the damaged train car and the mutilated corpse was the uncertainty of what lay ahead. What would happen to her once these men had accomplished their objective? Would they let her go? Capture her?

Kill her?

Am I a witness to some horrible conspiracy? she thought.

“What’s that? Stop the truck!” Steve said, pointing to something on the left side of the road. Martin hit the brakes and rolled down his window.

“Oh, shit. At least we know we’re on its trail.”

Faith leaned over to look, then clapped a hand over her mouth. Spread for several yards along the roadside were the remains of a six-point buck. There was little left to identify it as an animal. The basic form of its body had essentially been transformed into an enormous red smudge. Only the severed head and its antlers remained somewhat intact, at least enough so that the trio of onlookers knew what they were looking at.

“You think it might still be here?” Martin asked.

“Only one way to find out.” Steve passed one of the rifles over to him. It was at this moment Faith noticed the shape of the frame and bolt, as well as the special ‘ammo’ they brought. These were not AR-15s or typical hunting rifles. These were tranquilizer guns.

Martin turned to look at her. “Wait here.” Oddly, his tone was not threatening, but rather protective.

The two men stepped outside and approached the dead deer, rifles at the ready. Like a team of commandos, they checked the surrounding area, all the while communicating with each other through hand signals.

Faith held her breath. She half-expected something to jump out from the trees at any moment. What that something was, she had no clue. All she had to go on was the aftermath of its attacks and the desperation of its handlers.

Looking at the deer remains and reflecting on the wounds on the dead man, one thing became clear: this thing they were hunting was a predator. The real question was, what kind of predator? Faith was no biologist, but one didn’t need to be to know carnivores were not mindless killing machines. The few anomalies in which an animal was ever reported to go on a rampage were cases in which the subject had rabies, mental damage, or some other condition. The only sort of exception was a case she read, in which a grizzly was deliberately seeking out and attacking residences. As it turned out, its cub had been caught in a bear trap and subsequently died, sparking a fury within the mother.

Another thing about predators was that, once they fed on one kill, they generally were not too quick to attack anything else. It wasn’t like in the movies where they seemingly had a bottomless pit for a stomach.

But the predator that had done this had now fed twice. Much of the man’s flesh had been removed from the face, neck, and torso; at least ten pounds of protein. The animal had done that, but still was hungry enough to feed on this deer. Then again, it was only partly eaten. Given the state of the remains, the animal had gone medieval on the poor thing. It brought Faith back to the idea of the rampaging grizzly.

Martin and Steve expanded their search a few yards into the woods, only to return empty-handed. Cursing under their breaths, they climbed back into the truck. Just by looking at their faces, Faith could sense their blood pressures reaching a boiling point.

“Shit! Jesus H. Christ,” Martin growled through clenched teeth. “This is your fault.”

Steve whipped his eyes toward his partner. “MY fault?!”

“Damn right!” Martin said. “I told you to put a tracker on the fucking thing!”

“Oh, right!” Steve threw his hands up. “Yeah, YOU try putting a collar on its neck!”

“It had a muzzle and was secured in a harness.”

“Ha! Right! Tell that to Aaron. A lot of good it did him. Same with Eli.” Steve rubbed his forehead, squinting in the way someone did when a headache was setting in.

Martin smacked his window, then the steering wheel, on the verge of an infantile meltdown.

He inhaled deeply in an effort to cool his nerves. He raised a hand, signaling a desire to end their finger-pointing session.

“Let’s get a grip. It’s not too late. We can still catch it before it kills somebody else.”

Steve sat quietly for a moment. “It had to have gone farther that way.” He pointed south.

“I agree,” Martin said. He quickly sighed. “At least, the tracks indicated that was its initial direction it went from here. It could be anywhere by now.”

“Did you call Roger?” Steve asked.

Martin groaned. “That’s not a conversation I’m feeling up for.”

“He’s gonna find out when he sees the train,” Steve said. “More precisely, he’ll know when we ask for a new engineer to be flown out here. The longer we delay in telling him, the more pissed he’ll be at us.”

“Fine,” Martin said. “You call him, then, if you think it’s so important.” He watched as Steve rubbed his forehead again and stared off into the distance. Martin scoffed. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Steve smacked the dashboard. “Alright, alright! Call Perkins, then. Let him be the bearer of bad news. Just make it clear we’re tracking down the Drago.”

Martin rolled his eyes as he unclipped his phone. “Uh-huh, so glad you mentioned that.” He found Perkins’ name in his list of contacts and sent out the call. His facial muscles tensed with each ring, until he was finally forced to speak. “Hey, Perkins. It’s Martin Hoover. Um, listen, we’ve got a problem… We’re in the San Zechariah Valley… No, we’re stopped. We—Perkins, listen, we’ve got a situation. The Drago got out. It killed Eli and Aaron, and went into the valley. Steve and I are chasing it down right now… I don’t know. I think it got out through the top and made its way to the engine… No shit, idiot! That’s why we’re going after it, to make sure it doesn’t fucking kill somebody. Gee whiz! … No, Dr. Neil’s by the train… No, it’s still sedated, but listen…” He took a breath. “The trike is also loose. Went nuts after Eli hit the brakes. Burst right through the wall… Yes, I know it’s bad, but the doc said it’s docile. Won’t really go out of its way to attack someone… Yeah… How are we chasing the Drago? We, uh…” He glanced back at Faith. “We commandeered a vehicle. I figured, under the circumstances, Roger wouldn’t mind offering her a little cash in exchange for her services and signing an NDA… Perkins, listen, I gotta go. Just tell Roger what’s going on and get a cleanup crew out here, STAT.”

He ended the call. “There. Happy?”

Steve rested his head against the back of his seat. “I’ll be happy when this mess is dealt with.”

“You and me both,” Martin replied.

Both men briefly glanced at Faith. In their rush to catch the thing they called the Drago, they seemed to have already forgotten her presence. Faith did not utter a word. What was there to say to these guys?

“Maybe we should take her back to the train,” Steve said. “She can wait with Dr. Neil.”

“Should’ve done that back there,” Martin said. “We’ve already lost a few minutes dicking around out here. Turning back will only give the Drago a chance to gain more distance.”

“Yeah, but it’s dangerous,” Steve said. “Last thing we need is for her to get injured or killed. We’re pushing our own luck as it is.”

“I know, I know. I get it,” Martin said. “But we’ve lost enough time already. She can wait in the truck. She’ll be safe in the back seat.”

Steve groaned, then waved a hand in a sign of surrender. He turned to face her.

“Listen up… First, tell me your name, please.”

Her lip trembled before she could summon the breath to speak. “Faith.”

“Okay, Faith. I’m sorry you got roped up in this. We’ll try and have you on your way as soon as possible. Knowing our employer, you’ll probably have to sign some forms. Good news is there’ll be some good cash value in it for you. Until then, do exactly as we say, when we say it. With a little luck, we can have the worst part of this mess wrapped up pretty quickly. Understand?”

Faith nodded. What else was there to say?

As it turned out, something came to mind.

“Shouldn’t we call the sheriff or the state police?”

She immediately felt stupid for voicing that question. Yeah, sure. It totally made sense for a pair of men, who just pulled a gun on her and hijacked her truck, to want law enforcement swarming the area. Not to mention the talk of NDAs and the secrecy talk of a ‘cleanup crew’.

“Just keep quiet and remain in your seat,” Martin said. “We have no intention of hurting you. That being said, you need to cooperate. We have enough issues right now.”

Faith read between the lines. Too nervous to speak, she simply answered with a nod.

It was good enough for Steve and Martin. The two men faced forward, the latter accelerating the truck down the road.

The search for the Drago had resumed.

Chapter 5

The next few moments were spent in silence, save for the sound of tires on the gravel road. Martin kept the truck moving at a fairly slow pace, no more than twenty miles per hour. They could not afford to move too quickly and risk missing any new clues to the Drago creature.

Faith remained quiet, her eyes shifting between the men and the world passing outside her windows. Every time she looked outside, she expected to see some horrible shape moving between the trees. It was not long before her imagination invented a variety of horrific wild animals out for blood.

Given the type of injuries she witnessed, whatever this Drago was had to have claws of some sort. Faith immediately pictured a huge lion. But that didn’t make sense, not according to the footage she had seen of those great cats on National Geographic. They were deadly, sure, but capable of that much damage in such a short timeframe?

She thought about bears. Grizzlies were pretty ruthless. Polar bears were even worse. So she heard, at least. Faith was no expert on such things. After further consideration, she dismissed the idea of the animal being a large bear. If that was the case, it would take more than two men in a pickup truck to transport it.

The stress of the whole situation resulted in her body screaming for a smoke. For three years, they had served as a comfort device. She never deluded herself when it came to the health ramifications. Frankly, she didn’t care, for they kept her from using worse stuff.

Faith found herself gnawing gently on her thumb. The oral fixation need came hard and strong. She tapped her pockets in search of her pack, only to realize she had left it on the front center console.

Right next to her phone.

Faith cursed herself for missing a prime opportunity to call for help. When the men were searching near the deer remains, she easily could have dialed 9-1-1 without them even knowing. Perhaps if she had not been swept up in the shock of what she experienced for the last ten or fifteen minutes, and not distracted by the sight of blood and guts, she would have taken action.

Evidently, Martin and Steve were also too distracted to notice it. The phone was face-down, the black case blending in with the console.

Steve was shifting in his seat. His foot hit something on the floor. He bent forward and picked up Faith’s hardhat. With a “Huh!”, he gave it an admiring look, then turned to hand it to Faith.

“You work construction, huh?”

Faith accepted the helmet, unsure of what to make of this attempt at casual conversation. Steve, in addition to being stressed to high heaven over the current situation, seemed uneasy with their desperate measures. Given their lack of attention to detail, like leaving her phone right there in the open, it was clear they weren’t usually in the habit of taking hostages. Judging by the way he spoke, a sense of guilt was settling in.

“Y-yes,” she said. Ultimately, replying proved to be less awkward and uncomfortable than silence. “There’s a subdivision being built a couple miles northeast of here. A HOA type of place.”

“Sounds like a big job,” Steve said.

“Something I’d rather be doing right now, that’s for damn sure,” Martin said. He took a couple of glimpses at the front center console. Faith’s throat tightened. The way his eyes repeatedly went there indicated interest. She held her breath as he reached toward her phone… and picked up her pack of cigarettes. “Mind if I bum one of these?”

Faith, despite the knots in her stomach, could not help but smirk. This guy was more than willing to hold her at gunpoint and commandeer her truck against her will. But stealing a cigarette? That’s where he drew the line.

“Yeah, sure. Hand me one while you’re at it.”

Martin passed a smoke back to her. “Mind if I borrow a light as well?”

Already anticipating that question, she had her butane lighter in hand. She lit her own cigarette and handed the lighter to Martin. He rolled his window down and took a long draw. “Whew! Appreciate it.”

Faith barely heard him, for she was taking refuge in the mild high from her own smoke.

Steve suddenly leaned forward, his gaze fixed on something up ahead on the left side of the road. “Shit…”

“I see it,” Martin said. He tossed the smoke out the window and slowed the truck to a coasting speed.

Faith perked up. Her heart skipped a few beats and the jitters returned to her hands. She looked up ahead, thinking she was finally going to see this Drago creature.

She dropped her cigarette from a stiff hand. That paralysis took hold of the rest of Faith’s body as she took in the sight of a white, dirty Chevrolet Silverado. Its hood was folded in on itself, the front bumper caved in after an impact with a tree. Faith did not immediately realize the truck had hit a tree, as she was hyper-focused on the huge blood smear on the driver’s side.

Sprawled out beside it was a human corpse.

Faith brought her hands to her face. “Oh my God.”

“Shit!” Martin said through gritted teeth. He put the truck in park and opened his door. “Son of a bitch. This is bad.”

“It’s worse,” Steve said. He was pointing a few yards behind the truck, where a woman lay in a lake of her own blood. She was in her mid-twenties, her chest completely torn open. Even from this distance, the group could see her wide-open eyes and slack jaw, illustrating the pain and horror she endured in her final moments.

Faith could feel herself slowly giving in to shock and panic. One deep breath turned into many rapid ones. She recognized the truck, the boots on the nearest corpse, and could see the hardhat through the rear passenger window.

They had just found Jacob Ferguson and his live-in girlfriend, Hannah.

Once again, Steve was ready with the tranq rifles. “Let’s go.”

“Stay here,” Martin said to Faith. Again, she barely heard him. Comprehending anything was proving difficult right now. Seeing the previous carnage had her rattled as it was. Now she was looking at the mutilated remains of someone she knew. Someone she worked with, drank with, whose girlfriend shared embarrassing stories with her. They had come out here for a steamy getaway, only to be ambushed by a rabid animal.

The two men stepped outside and approached the Chevy. They stood over Jacob’s body and shook their heads, frustrated and increasingly anxious.

“Shit! This isn’t good,” Martin groaned.

Steve moved near the bed of the truck. “What the hell’s that?”

Martin stepped over to him and inspected a third carcass. “Looks like a mountain lion.”

“What’s left of one,” Steve added. “Damn thing had its head ripped off. Then the girl got pulled through the back window and dragged over there.”

“It didn’t eat much,” Martin said.

“No. Not this time,” Steve said in a shaky voice. “There’s no way around it. It’s on a rampage. It’s pissed.” He took a deep breath to collect himself. He failed. “Fuck!”

“Keep it down, damn it,” Martin hissed.

“You know Roger’s gonna pin this on us,” Steve replied. “You know that, right?”

“We didn’t bring these stupid animals here. I mean, to the mainland,” Martin argued. “We were just supposed to transport them from point A to point B. Neil’s the guy who supposedly knows about these things. If anyone ought to catch any blame, it should be HIM. I mean, he had to have signed off on this method of transportation. He was the one in charge of the sedatives.”

“Actually, I heard through the grapevine he warned Roger against it,” Steve said. He started looking around. “The blood’s still red and wet. How’s the engine?”

Martin put his hand on the hood. “Somewhat warm.”

“We’ve got to be close!” Steve exclaimed.

As they spoke, Faith found herself glancing at the unattended phone on her center console. To hell with promises of safety and money. Two of her friends were dead, their killer on the loose, and every passing moment increased the likelihood that she was next.

Adrenaline made slow, subtle movements impossible. Faith reached between the front seats and grabbed the phone.

Martin looked over at her. “Oh shit!” With the door left open, Faith’s deceit was in plain sight. Martin ran over to her and pried the phone from her fingers. “Sorry. Can’t let you have that.”

“No! NO!” she screamed.

“She had a phone?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, and our dumb asses were too blind to notice,” Martin hissed. He dropped the phone on the gravel road and stomped on it repeatedly, busting the case and exposing the internal components.

“Please!” Faith cried. “Just take me back to the train. Anywhere but here.”

“Sorry,” Martin said. “Can’t afford to let you do that. We’re far enough up shit creek as it is.”

“Just let me go!”

“No,” Martin said, sweat dripping from his brow. “Now will you please shut up and let us figure this—”

A deep bellow echoed from down the street. It was a cry of pain and horror, and was accompanied by the drumming sounds of many running feet.

Steve and Martin pointed their rifles and held their breaths, the earth vibrating beneath their feet as the racket grew louder and nearer.

From a bend in the road came a blur of black and white. Charging up the road were four head of cattle. They took no notice of the two men as they passed by, grunting and bellowing as though to warn the humans of a hell that waited down the road.

“What in the name of…” Steve took his eyes off the small herd after hearing the hooves of a fifth steer emerging from the bend. This one was much slower and more sluggish. Trailing from its underside was thirteen feet of intestines. Even with its belly hanging open like an upside-down purse and its insides literally falling out, the animal was still hellbent on following the others.

“What is happening?” Faith mumbled.

Martin and Steve faced each other.

“They’re fleeing. They just encountered it!” Steve said.

Martin stuck his head in the cab and looked at Faith. “Are there any properties nearby? A farm? Anything up the road? Come on! Talk! Talk!”

“There’s one,” Faith said. “The – the… I forget their names… I don’t live around here normally.”

“How far?! Come on, damn it!” Martin beseeched, his eyes blazing and bloodshot.

Faith stammered. “I-I… a mile? A little more? It’s the first property you’ll come across, I think.”

Martin sat in the driver’s seat. The moment Steve was in the truck, he floored the accelerator.

They cleared the bend, passing a sixth steer that lay in the middle of the road. Its throat was torn open, as was its left shoulder. Despite this, it had made a valiant effort to flee with the others, ultimately succumbing to its injuries.

Martin swerved around the fresh corpse and gunned the engine.

Faith looked over her shoulder for one last look at Jacob’s truck, in a vain effort to somehow convince herself that maybe it wasn’t him and Hannah. It only confirmed it further. She saw the Kansas City Chiefs bumper sticker.

Right before they cleared the bend, she witnessed the injured steer dropping to its knees, its injuries finally taking their toll.

She put her head in her hands.

“What the hell is this thing?!”

Chapter 6

Crows, vultures, hawks, and at least another dozen species of birds circled at various altitudes. Their presence was a haunting one. The general reason birds gathered in one central spot in large numbers was easy sustenance. Particularly carcasses.

Faith thought of something a college friend told her. She was studying medieval history and had a particular interest in warfare of that time period. The friend, being the chatty type who assumed everyone shared her interest, filled Faith’s ear with the details of whatever research paper she was working on that week. Faith usually did the “uh-huh, uh-huh” routine while tuning her out. Once in a while, a few details got through.

One in particular was the journal of some knight explaining his experience of riding into the aftermath of a large conflict. Faith could not remember the name of the guy, or even the year or location this took place in. But she remembered the friend quoting a passage that explained before he saw the hundreds of bodies, he saw the army of birds that had formed a cloud in the sky. Ruthless scavengers, they fed on anything that was available. When there was an abundance of death, without exception, there would be an abundance of birds.

A quarter mile ahead was an open field. Already, the group could plainly see the huge flock. Some of them descended to pick at some dead cattle lying on the gravel pavement. Like those they passed earlier, these animals had attempted to flee, only to succumb to violent injuries.

Martin steered the truck around the carcasses and followed the road as it bent to the left. On the righthand side was the farm, and the mass death it contained.

“My God…” Steve dabbed his forehead with his sleeve. He looked like he would be sick. Martin wasn’t much better. He pulled up near the long driveway entrance and parked. Together, they took in the horrible sight.

The driveway split into a fork. On the left was the farmhouse, a two-story structure that stood roughly thirty feet from the road. The right fork went another seventy feet back to a dirt ground parking lot of sorts, where a few horse and cattle trailers were lined up. To the right of the trailers was a shed and chicken coop. Further right was a huge barn. Its sliding doors were wide open, revealing the concrete flooring of the aisles and the first few stall doors.

Between the barn and the road were two acres of pasture. The fence and the hotwire had been torn down several yards behind the truck, its broken sections bent outward by the explosive force of several frightened livestock. Those that failed to escape littered the pasture. Throughout the two acres of fenced-in field, Faith saw bodies of cattle, pigs, horses, and goats. Birds of many different species helped themselves to the easy meals, while others wandered in and out of the barn.

The chicken coop was torn wide open, its fence decorated with a thousand scattered feathers.

Faith winced at the anguish of a steer writhing in the middle of the pasture. Several birds gathered around it and picked at the edges of its gaping wound, with no concern for the well-being of their victim. Its entrails were sprawled out on the grass, its body opened up all the way from its left shoulder to its pelvis. For whatever reason, the poor thing just could not die.

Martin and Steve shared a glance, both unsure if they were even willing to commit to this hunt any longer. They knew the animal was dangerous, but they probably were not expecting a bloodbath to this level. The Drago was on a true rampage, leaving no living thing spared.

Without discussing their concerns, they stepped out of the truck. Evidently, they feared the wrath of their employer more than the creature.

Martin stepped over to Steve’s side. There, the pair of so-called hunters surveyed the large property, working up the courage to follow through on their commitment.

“Okay, how do we want to do this?” Steve asked.

Martin exhaled sharply, unsure of the answer himself. “Probably should start with the house.”

“You think it’s in there?” Steve asked.

Martin threw his hands out. “Do I look like I’ve got a fucking crystal ball?”

Steve shrugged. Good point.

“Whatever we do, we do it together,” he said. “I mean, no splitting up. We need to watch each other’s backs. Really closely. And pray to Christ these darts act fast.”

“No arguments there,” Martin said. He turned to look at Faith. “Wait here. Don’t do anything stupid.” He grabbed the key from the ignition, then shut the door.

They hesitated for another few moments, finalizing their game plan. The front passenger window was cracked, enabling Faith to overhear their discussion.

“Okay,” Steve said. “So, we’ll start at the house, then make our way over to the barn. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Martin said under his breath, clearly unconvinced. With one final deep breath to psych themselves up, the pair moved toward the house.

Faith felt every muscle in her body constrict. With unblinking eyes, she watched the two men walk up the driveway, rifles pointed, ready to shoot anything that may spring out at them. And it certainly felt as though that would happen at any moment. There were plenty of places for their target to hide. The house, the shed, the barn, the trailers if their back doors were open, and plenty of vegetation in the pasture, particularly some long grass on the northernmost side. In addition to all of that, there were the trees beyond the fence line on that side, a grove of trees on the north, and a few extra acres of pasture beyond the barn.

Martin and Steve assembled at the front door, resembling members of a SWAT team, ready to breach. They peeked through what looked like a living room and kitchen window, each one on opposite sides of the front entrance. They faced each other and shook their heads. Don’t see it.

They formed up on the door, Steve in front. Faith cringed as she watched his hand close over the handle. Slowly, he pushed the door open. He took a single step inside, panned the nearest room with the muzzle of his rifle, then fully entered. Martin gave one last look at the outside yard, simultaneously watching their backs and possibly reconsidering abandoning the hunt altogether. He disappeared into the house and followed Steve, their figures sweeping by the big front window.

All the while, Faith waited in dreadful silence, anticipating the possible BANG of a gunshot. The constant motion in the pasture added to the already unbearable feeling of anxiety. The whole property was a storm of black and grey feathered bodies, going up and down or darting in uncoordinated movements. Every time a bird took to the sky, she looked for any large shape near its location that may have spooked it. Granted, she still didn’t know exactly what she was looking for. At this point, she was certain she would know it when she saw it.

Then again, she would rather NOT see it.

Faith found herself looking at the empty ignition slot. That prick Martin obviously suspected she would have a mind to drive off and leave them here.

In all fairness, it wasn’t an unreasonable thought. Faith proved this with her frequent eyeing of the glove compartment. Always paranoid she would misplace her keys at work, she always kept her spare in the glove compartment. Of course, this made her feel foolish whenever she locked her truck at work, though most of the time she didn’t bother.

Faith found herself staring at that glove compartment and ignition. In thirty seconds, she could be hightailing it up the road. Maybe she could stop by Jacob’s truck and see if she could locate his phone. On second thought, there was no point. She would drive straight into town regardless. After everything she witnessed, all she wanted more than anything was the security of numbers.

She considered the ethics of taking off and leaving Steve and Martin stranded out here. On the one hand, they were the ones who kidnapped her and brought her along on their hunt. On the other hand, driving off was a death sentence for them. Such a thing was inhumane, even under these circumstances. Steve in particular didn’t seem like a bad guy at heart. He didn’t even seem on board with stealing her truck, but went along with it only because of the dire situation.

But the person whose safety she needed to focus on most of all was her own. If the men needed a ride, there was the farmer’s pickup truck parked in front of the house. It was a safe bet that the people who lived here were now deceased. She hoped otherwise, but understood the cruel reality.

With that in mind, Faith began to pull herself over the center console.

Movement near the house made her freeze. She quickly relaxed, seeing it was Martin and Steve. They had exited out the back door and were cautiously making their way to the shed and trailers.

Even with them well over a hundred feet away, Faith remained frozen. There was a nauseating feeling that she was being watched. The damn birds were not helping matters. A few of them flew past the windshield, moving in and out of a grove of trees and bushes on the opposite side of the road.

She looked to her left. “Geez!” She had been so distracted by the carnage on the farm, she did not realize it had extended across the road. A few yards from her window was a mess of horns, hooves, flesh, and bones. A pair of goats, most likely. Like the many other victims on the farm, their bodies were set upon by a gathering of feathered opportunistic scavengers.

Faith turned her attention back to Martin and Steve. They had just finished weaving around the trailers. The shed door was left wide open, indicating they had checked inside while she wasn’t looking. Now, they were making their way to the barn.

She cringed, anticipating the whatever-it-is to suddenly emerge from the opening and attack.

From the looks of it, Martin was suffering a similar anxiety. He abruptly stopped, perfectly fine with letting Steve take the lead. His partner took notice of his hesitation and the two exchanged words. Martin finally moved forward and took position by the barn entrance, again resembling military commandos breaching a room. They went around the corner and vanished into the enormous structure.

Faith placed her hands by her ears. To both her shock and relief, there were no gunshots. Then again, she was not sure how loud those kinds of rifles were. For all she knew, they hardly made a sound. One thing she was certain of, however, was she would definitely hear the men themselves if they encountered the thing. No doubt there would be some form of shouting, whether it be fright or celebration.

So far, there was nothing.

Faith was simultaneously relieved and distraught. Frankly, she did not want to encounter the thing. At the same time, she desperately wanted this hunt done with. It was starting to look as though the thing was not here. They had missed it again, meaning they would probably search further down the road.

Faith would not stand for it. She made her decision; she was going to make her getaway. These guys would have to just fend for themselves.

She put her hands on the front seat headrests and began climbing over the center console.

SMACK!

Faith shrieked and whipped to her left, catching a glimpse of fluttering wings. The crow floundered on the outside of the window, panicked, confused and dazed. It regained its senses and zipped around the truck’s windshield.

The rest of the flock that had gathered around the dead goats quickly followed it. They did not move for any other carcasses, but rather, they took to the sky and vanished into the horizon. At the same time, a racoon and a pair of rabbits raced from the left side of the road and onto the farm.

Suddenly, that feeling of being watched set in again.

Faith felt a sinister presence. Her mind was suddenly hyper alert in a way she had never before experienced. Everything seemed to go quiet as her senses focused on the vegetation on her left. She heard the bending of branches and the rustling of leaves. Next came a low growl and the scraping of an edged object on the dirt.

Faith exhaled. She didn’t want to look.

More birds took to the sky, abandoning their easy meals without a second thought.

Something had arrived.

Faith turned her head. The blood drained from her face and her mouth went dry.

It was no bear, lion, or tiger. What she was looking at stood on two hind legs. Its skin was a dark gray, its eyes black and soulless. Two front arms were cocked under its torso, each sporting three fingers tipped with three-inch claws. As horrific as those were, they did not hold a candle to the fifteen-inch half-moon-shaped claw on each foot.

Its head was long and angular, the jaw sporting long intertwined teeth. A long tail, matching its body length, waved gently behind its hips, providing balance and stability.

Faith questioned her eyes. What she was looking at could not possibly be real. It was something she had seen in movies, documentaries, art sketches, toys, and so much more. Its design varied between the visions of scientists and artists, but there was always one thing they universally agreed on: It was extinct.

Yet, here it stood, the Drago, staring at Faith. It tilted up to a seven-foot height and parted its jaws. A deafening shriek pierced Faith’s soul.

It charged at the truck and rammed its head through the rear left window. Faith screamed and threw herself against the other side. Its head whipped back and forth, jaws snapping over and over, determined to close over her legs. Claws raked against the outside of the truck, the shifting motion shaking Faith like dice in a cup.

The jaws parted to ninety degrees, spewing hot breath and the stench of digested meat. They slammed shut, just millimeters from her knee.

“Oh, Jesus! Oh, God!”

The thing growled and shook itself, frustrated at its failure. It squeezed against the window, failing to wedge its shoulders through the narrow opening. At the same time, it refused to retract and change its tactics, as though worried it would lose its advantage.

“Oh, please dear God!” Faith cried. She remained pressed against her door. Finally, she managed to find the handle. She pulled it back, popping the latch.

The Drago’s head perked up. There was a sudden sense of realization, as if it KNEW what that sound was. In a fluid motion, it pulled its head out of the window and raced around to the other side. Faith screamed and pulled the door shut. For the second time, she was met with shards of flying glass.

Now Faith was pressing herself against the driver’s side back door, the reptilian jaws clamping shut near her shins. It angled its head downward and bit again. Its front teeth slammed shut over the steel toe of her boot. It shook its head to sever the limb, then let go in favor of another bite.

Faith cried out, the teeth grazing the skin on her right leg. The Drago pulled back, tearing a strip of her jeans away. It shook the inedible fabric, then spat it out. Licking its gums, the beast cocked its head back for another go.

Faith wanted to scream but couldn’t. The muscles in her throat had tensed to the point she could hardly breathe. She had no way out. Running was a death sentence. No way would she outrun the thing. She was trapped in here with nothing to fight with.

Almost nothing.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the yellow thermoplastic hardhat Steve had handed to her. The beast parted its jaws to their full ninety degrees and lunged.

Faith snatched the hat off the floor and shoved it forward. The creature suddenly yanked itself out of the truck, caught off guard by the rounded object lodged in its jaws.

Faith threw herself into the front seat. Her opportunity was now. Gasping with each breath, she straightened herself in the driver’s seat and pulled the spare key from her glove box. With a single twist, the engine roared to life. Faith shifted it into ‘drive’ and stomped on the accelerator.

THUMP!

She screamed and cut the wheel to the right, her vision obscured by the enormous gray shape perched on the hood of the truck.

With a furious roar, the Drago headbutted the windshield repeatedly. By the fourth impact, it shattered.

Blinded by panic and the thing’s rabid physical mass, Faith floored the accelerator. The truck plowed into the pasture, missing the driveway entrance completely, flattening a section of fence. The jolt from the impact shook the creature off balance. With an angry howl, it fell to the side.

The truck sped across the pasture, bouncing over the many corpses that decorated it. Faith looked ahead, then yelled out. She cut the wheel to the left, avoiding a large water trough. As it turned out, she should have let herself hit the thing, for now she was on a collision course with one of the trailers.

She slammed on the brakes, but was too late. The truck smashed against the horse trailer, the hood folding up on impact. The airbag deployed, smacking Faith square in the face. Her head whipped against the back of her seat, rendering her in a daze.

“What the… THERE IT IS! HOLY SHIT, MARTIN, GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE! IT’S COMING… AGHHH!!!”

The sound of Steve’s screams jolted Faith from her daze. She looked out the passenger window, just in time to witness the Drago charging at the horrified hunter. His fright got the better of him. He stumbled backward, rifle wavering high. He squeezed the trigger, the dart a brief blur over the animal’s head.

With a bounding leap, the Drago tackled Steve to the ground. A shrill cry of horror and agony narrated his final moments. The beast worked fast and brutally, raking its toe claws. Blood jetted from his open abdomen, the man shaking under its wrath. Jaws shut over his head, holding him in place while its arms and legs pedaled over his body.

Faith’s stomach compressed, threatening to unload its contents onto the dashboard. She watched as Steve twitched under the Drago’s fury, his struggle soon reduced to nerve reflexes. He was dead.

There was a whimpering sound and the sliding of a wooden door several yards behind his mutilated body. Martin, faced with the reality of his situation, chose to run for his life. He had his rifle in one hand and his pistol in the other, though no longer confident in their effectiveness. Nor was he confident in hiding in the barn. Instead, he hoped the creature would be too preoccupied with mangling Steve to notice him.

When he glanced over his shoulder, he visibly regretted his decision. The thing ran at him with frightening speed, clearing the vast distance in a few short seconds.

Martin screamed and pivoted with his rifle shouldered. Knowing he could not outrun the Drago, he attempted a last stand.

The beast was on him before he could get a shot off. Next thing he knew, he was on the ground, his left arm locked in the vise-like grip of those jaws. He twisted and squealed, legs kicking against the dirt.

Those screams elevated to a high-pitch shrill. The Drago pulled its head back, separating the arm from Martin’s shoulder.

Faith was on the brink of tears. Nobody deserved this. Not even these guys. Worst of all, SHE was next.

Fueled by desperation, she looked for a place to run to. With no time to plan, her eyes settled on the house.

She opened her door and bolted across the yard for the back door. The Drago was still working on Martin, its teeth pulling apart his stomach and ribcage. With human intestine dangling from its gums, it turned its head toward her.

Faith reached for the back door handle, only to realize it was not there. The door had been busted off its hinges. There was no time to reconsider her strategy. The creature was now racing across the field, straight for her. There was no other option. She ran into the back room.

It was a dirty room with a bunch of work boots and muddy coats. A mud room. She went for the next doorway, which led into a laundry room. This one had a door fully intact. Faith slammed it shut, locked it, then hustled in a hallway which led into a kitchen and bathroom area.

She crouched and put her hands to her head, overwhelmed by the snarling and battering sounds. It was in the mud room, infuriated by the obstruction. The door was probably left open during its prior attack, in which it had breached the back door and invaded the home.

A splintering sound followed. The door wasn’t going to last much longer. Faith forced herself to act. Maybe there was a place to hide. Maybe somewhere upstairs.

She entered the kitchen and took a left turn. She yelled, seeing the disfigured body of one of the homeowners. There was hardly anything to identify him as a human aside from his basic shape. His body was completely shredded, punished for the woes that fueled the Drago’s fury.

SMASH!

Hiding no longer felt like an option. One more hit, and that door would come apart. Faith looked to the farmer’s jeans, then turned her eyes to the far window facing the driveway. The pickup truck appeared undamaged. She just needed to find the keys. Perhaps this fella had the same idea before he went down.

She tapped his pockets.

“Yes!”

She ran to the front door, keys in hand.

SMASH!

The sound was punctuated by that of scattering debris and heavy footsteps moving up the hallway.

Faith charged at the front door. The Drago emerged in the kitchen and looked her way.

“Get away from me!!!”

She twisted the lock and slammed the door behind her. A roar reverberated through the house as the thing went after her.

Faith had only taken a few steps when the thing started battering the locked door. Stricken with terror, she got into the truck. The engine came alive, much to her relief. She turned the truck around and began her escape.

SMASH!!!

She looked in her rearview mirror. The front door came apart in several places, the Drago pedaling its legs in pursuit of the truck. Faith put her foot down as hard as she could and steered the vehicle onto the road. She was off the farm, now heading north. Back the way she came.

THUMP!

She looked at the mirror again, and screamed at the sight of the Drago perched in the bed of the truck.

Chapter 7

Claws and teeth scaped the glass behind her head. Faith, with her muscles as tense as outstretched rubber bands, kept the pedal floored. The truck sped over the gravel road, shaking its driver as well as the unwelcome passenger in the bed.

She drove the vehicle through the bend, frequently glancing at the rabid image in the rearview mirror. Blood-stained jaws smeared the cracked glass as the Drago shifted to the side, the velocity and motion throwing it off balance. As the road straightened out, the creature regained its footing.

It pressed one of those horrid black eyes to the window, closely inspecting the terrified victim on the other side. Those gums peeled back, dripping saliva and droplets of blood.

Faith swerved to the left, then hard to the right. The creature howled, its forearms scraping the cab as it fought for balance. It pivoted on its heels and fell on its side.

Faith continued swerving back and forth, her eyes alternating between the road and the mirror. On the latter, she saw a reflection of a slashing tail and a kicking leg, the sickle-shaped claw fully extended toward the air. The Drago rolled onto its side, its tail repeatedly slapping the tailgate. It tried to plant its feet on the floor of the bed, only to fall over again after Faith swerved to the left side of the road.

“Come on!” she cried. No matter how hard she cut the wheel, she could not manage to throw the damn thing from the truck. The constant bouncing in her seat from speeding over gravel wasn’t helping matters. She watched the mirror and the flailing dinosaur caught in its reflection. Those gums were still peeled, the black eyes wide, revealing a dark green, cat-like pupil in its center. Wheeling its arms and legs, it initiated another attempt to right itself.

Faith tightened her grip on the steering wheel, ready to resume the tactic of heavy turbulence. Her attention went back to the road, and the sight of Jacob’s truck on the side. In that moment, it dawned on her that she had narrowly dodged the dead steer on the bend leading up to it, only by the sheer luck of driving on the shoulder.

Unfortunately, that put her on a collision course with the next carcass straight ahead. It was just a few yards in front of her, its guts already serving as a snack for the birds and a few critters. They quickly scattered once they saw the speeding mechanical titan coming their way.

Faith yelped and swerved hard to the right.

She successfully dodged the obstacle, but at the cost of control. The truck went over the shoulder onto the grass, grazing the side of a tree. Low hanging branches scraped the top of the truck and the fiend in the back, enraging it further.

With no other choice, Faith eased on the brakes and slowed the vehicle down, regaining control of the two-thousand-pound projectile.

In doing so, she unwittingly granted the beast the opportunity it desired. Taking advantage of the slower speed and gentle veering, it righted itself and pointed its head at the glass.

One single headbutt was all it took to smash the translucent barrier.

“No! NO! NOOO!!!” Lost in hysterics, Faith leaned forward and put all her weight on the accelerator. By then, it was too late. The Drago slipped its upper body into the cab, its claws bending over the headrest of her seat. Its snout passed over the center console, emitting a snarl from the back of its throat.

Faith tucked her head down, opened the door, and let the truck weave to the left shoulder. Once she saw grass, she made her Hail Mary getaway, somersaulting onto the earth while the truck kept going.

She rolled head over heels for several feet, the landing a bit rougher than she anticipated. It wasn’t every day one thought about the physics of jumping out of a moving vehicle. She ended up on her side, watching the truck continuing to speed another couple dozen yards. The creature’s lower half stuck out of the rear windshield, its tail waving like a flag in high wind. The truck veered further left, eventually hitting a tree with explosive force. Glass and bumper fragments soared in all directions like shrapnel.

Faith fought against her soreness and stood up. The creature’s thrashing had slowed. It was dazed, probably having received a good knock on the head by the imploding dashboard and airbag. But it was still alive. And angry, given the growling sounds and gradually intensifying movements. It was lodged in the truck, unsure how to free itself. Considering its brute strength, sheer cunning ability, and determination to hunt her down, Faith knew she had a minute at best to flee.

Her first thought was to run up the road in hopes of reaching the train. Then reality set in. She would be lucky to get a couple hundred yards before the creature caught up with her. She had seen how fast it was. A clear path such as a roadway would only work in its favor.

She had only one choice: the woods. Her odds were still slim, but the obstacles the woods naturally provided would probably hinder a creature as large as the Drago more than they would her. Also, there was the faint hope it would lose track of her. A very faint hope, but at this point, Faith was willing to accept anything.

She took off into the woods. Right away, she nearly tripped over some dead branches. Every step landed her on uneven ground, slowing what she thought would be a definitive head start. She pushed through, traversing nature’s obstacle course, making sixty feet of distance before she truly did trip and fall.

Now the tears were breaking through.

Hands and knees covered in dirt, Faith pushed herself to her feet. “God, please!”

There was a hammering of metal and an enraged shriek from the road. The beast was free. If God was listening, He was taking His sweet time giving her a hand.

Faith grabbed a branch off the ground. It was the size of a baseball bat and pretty solid. It probably wouldn’t do much good against a creature as violent and agile as the Drago, but it was better than her bare fists.

She continued on, finding a relatively clear passage. She had no idea where she was running to. This area was nothing but woods, hills, and farmland, the nearest of which had already been visited by her attacker.

For all she knew, she was running to the ends of the earth.

SNAP!

The sounds of bending vegetation confirmed that the creature had entered the woods.

Faith ran her arm over her face to clear away the tears. She cursed herself for not joining Tanner and the others in town for beer and fireworks. She cursed her stupid antics in college that drove her from her chosen career to this job. She denounced the harm she caused her family, which led to the desire to move away and take the job with Mosser Construction. She thought the job gave her everything she ever wanted: good pay and an excuse to remain on the road. Instead, it had led to her doom.

She could hear running footsteps behind her, gradually growing nearer.

Another set of footsteps up ahead gave her pause. Faith sucked in a breath after the large, black shape materialized a few feet in front of her. It was quadrupedal, sporting a set of horns. One of the steer from the farm!

The animal was reasonably calm. It appeared to have been grazing between some trees, thinking it had escaped the horror that besieged its farm.

It bellowed and hastily backed away, its head tilted back after recognizing the approaching mass of teeth and claws behind Faith. She darted to the left, her heart rhythm matching the intense beating of dinosaur feet.

The Drago emerged between some undergrowth, claws peeling plants to the side like shower curtains. Baring teeth, it turned its gaze at Faith.

A panicky moo from the steer turned its eyes the other way. The animal tried to turn, only for its feet to become caught on some roots. It was only a split-second hangup that cost the steer the rest of its natural lifecycle.

The Drago threw itself on the four-legged animal. Toe claws pierced its hide and slid down its length. Like a cat with a scratching post, the Drago clung to the screaming steer, wrestling it to the ground while dragging its left foot across its belly again and again.

There was no use in watching, not that she would want to anyway. Faith resumed her retreat, her feet aching, lungs protesting, and her psyche threatening to snap. The echoes of the steer’s anguish would forever haunt her dreams, as would the silence that came with its death. It wasn’t complete silence; she could hear the sounds of a large mass darting through the trees, intent on finishing this chase. As it had done a minute prior, it gradually closed in. Faith kept her eyes forward and her hands gripping the wooden club. This was it. As far as Faith could tell, the battle was lost. There were no lucky breaks. God was not sending any angels down to protect her. All she could do was hope for a quick death. And maybe to get a good swing in.

Oddly enough, the fear shifted into anger. The thought of hitting the Drago was a comforting one. If she was going to die, she would do it fighting to the last breath.

She spotted a clearing up ahead. It was just close enough where she would enter and turn around before the Drago closed in. A perfect place for a last stand.

Grunting with each step, Faith entered the clearing. Right then, fear returned, for she was met with a trumpeting roar and the echoes of huge, pounding feet.

She froze in place, absorbing the sight of the gigantic animal turning around to face her. Like the steer she encountered before, it was horned. UNLIKE the steer, it was way bigger. As in, the size of a damn bulldozer, and equally as heavy. Its horns were at least six feet in length, extending from its forehead. A third, smaller horn protruded from its nose. Behind these pointed weapons was a massive frill, composed of the same bony material as the horns.

“What in the name of…” Faith could not believe her eyes. Even now, after being face-to-face with the enormous raptor, she was dumbstruck at the sight of a twelve-ton dinosaur. This one was much easier to identify.

Triceratops.

It bellowed again, waving its horns side to side. Faith moved to her right, remembering the predator behind her. The Triceratops did not seem to pay attention to her, rather it kept its focus on the noise coming from the woods.

The Drago entered the clearing. The horned herbivore lowered its head in a threatening manner, feet brushing over the ground. The Drago snarled, but did not move closer. It held its ground, frequently looking in Faith’s direction, hoping to get ahold of her.

Slowly, cautiously, she inched her way around the clearing until she was behind the Triceratops.

Triceratops. TRIKE! That’s what Martin and Steve were referring to! Remembering their mentioning of the creature being docile, Faith remained in place, gladly allowing it to engage the Drago.

It brushed its feet against the ground again in a threat to charge. The Drago backed away, reluctantly conceding to the threat of being gored.

With one final roar, the Drago turned on its heels and vanished into the valley.

Faith’s knees gave out. She collapsed to the earth, overwhelmed, but grateful to be alive. Perhaps the man upstairs had her back after all.

Chapter 8

A hot flame touched the end of a Camacho Scorpion cigar, initiating a slow, pleasant burn. A puff of tobacco smoke spewed from the lips of Richard Danare as he tossed the spent match to the side and grabbed his MK 17 Mod 0 SCAR from a nearby table. He slammed its twenty-round magazine home and pointed the weapon downrange.

The next puff of smoke came from the muzzle of the weapon as he rapidly discharged the contents of his mag. Five hundred meters down his privately-owned range were three human-shaped cardboard targets. The center one’s head departed from the body in spectacular fashion. Danare shifted his aim to the right and popped several holes into the next one. As the mangled target collapsed into several pieces, Danare put the last remaining rounds through the left one. Pieces of plywood popped from the plank, the illustration in the middle looking more like Swiss cheese than a man.

He ejected the empty mag and set the weapon back on the table. Cigar still in his mouth, he admired his handiwork, all while listening to the predictable approach of one of his lovers, Jenny Cane. He could smell her coconut body butter from the doorway as she entered the shooting range.

“I assume it’s important,” he said, eyes still on the targets.

“It’s Mr. Trill,” Jenny replied.

Danare plucked the cigar from his mouth and looked at her. Jenny stood at the doorway in nothing but her bath robe and some flip flops. During the evening hours, she preferred to be in the hot tub or resting in bed, streaming some Netflix documentary. She only interrupted Danare’s late night ‘tobacco and gunpowder’ rituals if something important came up. Sure enough, that was looking to be the case.

“He call?”

“No,” Jenny said. “He’s here.”

That got Danare to raise an eyebrow. If Roger Trill was showing up unannounced in the late-night hours, he was in desperate need of his immediate services. Danare had already earned a hefty paycheck from Roger just recently. The task: something more unique than everything he had ever done in his twenty-five years as a gun-for-hire and bounty hunter.

There was no doubt the business tycoon’s arrival was in relation to that job. This could only mean one thing: something had gone horribly wrong, and now Danare was needed to clean up a mess.

The good news was it was a guaranteed seven-figure payday.

“Take him into the east lounge,” Danare said to Jenny. “I’ll join him shortly. Offer him brandy, please. I have a feeling he could use it.”

Jenny tilted her head and made an exaggerated frown. “I suppose I shouldn’t expect you in bed with us tonight?”

Danare clicked his tongue. “I’m afraid you and Priscilla are on your own tonight.”

She shrugged. “Duty calls, I suppose. I’ll escort Mr. Trill to the lounge.” She disappeared into the hallway.

Danare puffed on his cigar and gazed at his assortment of weapons. They were all considered parts of his collection and tools of the trade. Many of them had recently been put to good use in service of Roger Trill. Two days ago, they had been stripped and clean, only to be brought right back into service.

With that in mind, Danare went into the next room. If his suspicion was correct, he would be heading out within the hour. He may as well dress himself for the occasion.

He slipped into a fresh pair of tactical pants and boots. He holstered his favorite sidearm, a Smith and Wesson .44 Magnum with a six-inch barrel. It had come in handy during the last job, and he had a feeling it would again tonight.

Danare threw a vest over a long-sleeve Cordura nylon and cotton shirt, then made his way through the mansion to greet his guest.

When he arrived in the east lounge, he found Roger Trill seated in one of the leather recliners. As always, he wore a white shirt and tie, though no jacket this time, and the tie and collar were loosened. That, and the glass of bourbon in his hand, confirmed Danare’s suspicion that something had gone horribly wrong.

Roger quickly rose to his feet, his thinning hair combed to the right, failing to cover the dome in the middle. From the looks of it, he had shed five of the twenty pounds he needed to lose from stress alone.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” he said.

“Not like I had much say in the matter,” Danare said. “I saw your helicopter out there on my lawn. Obviously, you needed to get here quickly, meaning you’ve got a mess you want me to mop up.” He snatched a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a shot. Roger was nodding, fiddling with his glass as he thought of the best way to articulate the situation.

“The specimens you captured… they’re, uh…”

“You lost them,” Danare spat with definitiveness. Roger bit his lip and nodded. Danare shook his head and downed his shot. “I guess you should have listened to me when I told you transporting them this soon was a bad idea. I think that Doctor Neil fella advised you similarly. Something about the animals’ bad temperament, or something like that. Can’t say I blame them, considering we took them out of their natural environment and brought them into a completely new world of industry and steel.”

“Yes, yes, I’m eating my words,” Roger said. “Will you help me or not?”

Danare deliberately hesitated to answer, allowing Roger to sweat with anticipation for a few moments.

“Which ones are loose, and where?”

“Some valley in the middle of nowhere.” Roger hoped that phrasing would make his judgment less poor somehow. It didn’t. “A place in northwest Arizona. The trike broke out of its box car and went into the valley.”

“Hmm,” Danare shrugged. “That’s not so bad. It’s not likely to go after anybody. All we need to do is-”

“And the Drago,” Roger admitted.

Danare’s expression soured. “Oh, you idiot.”

“It was sedated,” Roger said defensively.

“Did you have an IV drip on it, or did you only sedate it for transferring it into the train?”

Roger sighed. “Dr. Neil suggested it, but informed me that there was a slight risk that its body would not tolerate extended use of the medication. So…”

“You figured you’d just give it a short nap and everything would be peachy,” Danare said. He poured himself another shot. He was going to need it. The Drago had been a bitch to capture. Four of his men learned first-hand how ferocious it was. Unfortunately for them, it proved to be their last lesson.

If there ever was a living demon on earth, the Drago was it. That, and the big one.

Danare looked Roger in the eye. “Drinker…”

“He’s still secured,” Roger assured him.

Danare blew a sigh of relief. It was a good thing the big one was not on the loose, because it probably would be impossible to assemble a crew otherwise. The Drago was bad enough, but Drinker was a titan in the truest sense. His jaws and feet had created many job openings in Danare’s business. Capturing him had been a miracle, as had been transporting him to the mainland. It was something Danare and the surviving members of his crew vowed NEVER to do again.

“Two million,” he said bluntly. “And another two upon completion. And by completion, I mean when I have the animals back ON THE TRAIN. If you lose them again, that’s your own damn fault.”

Roger drained the last of his bourbon. It was money he was not happy about forking over, but it had to be done.

“I’ll arrange a wire transfer.” Right away, he dug his phone out.

Danare did the same. He had a lot of calls he needed to make.

Chapter 9

For twenty whole minutes, Faith did not move an inch. As stationary as a Civil War statue, she did nothing but breathe and watch. After all, she was in the presence of a gigantic dinosaur. It may have been a herbivore, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t aggressive.

Furthering her fear was the observation Faith made a few moments after the Drago retreated. The trike was not defending her. It was not even defending itself. Nestled in some brush were three oval-shaped objects. They were grayish-white and the size of volleyballs.

Eggs.

For all she knew, those eggs were a death sentence to her. Specifically, their proximity to her. It did not take a rocket scientist to know animals tended to get a little testy when it came to unwelcome visitors around their young. Thus, Faith could not bring herself to move, fearing any motion could be perceived as a threat by the mother.

If there was any upside, it was that being trampled or impaled would probably be a better way to go out than being disemboweled by the Drago. The predator had not been seen or heard from since it had fled the nest area. Still, that did not necessarily mean it was not lurking beyond her line of sight, waiting for her to wander from the safety of the trike.

The horned dinosaur hardly seemed to notice her. Faith couldn’t tell if it wasn’t interested in her, or if there was any truth to the concept of ‘it won’t see you if you don’t move’. Fear kept her from testing that theory for a while. Standing perfectly still, she watched the trike as it rubbed its horns on some tree bark and scraped up some fern roots. Using its horns and chin as a sort of rake, it swept the debris to its eggs. After a while, they were surrounded by a barrier of dirt and plants.

Leaves rustled somewhere behind Faith, making her gasp. She looked in that direction, fearing the huge raptor would spring out of the background and finally sink its claws into her.

A loud snort brought her eyes back to the trike. It was looking at her now. If her lack of motion had in fact camouflaged her presence, the creature was wise to her act.

For the second time that night, fear turned into frustration. Faith threw her arms out and let out an exasperated groan.

“Alright, if you’re gonna run me over, just get it over with already! Because, frankly, the anticipation gets old after a while. It’s not like I don’t have it coming anyway.” She pointed at the eggs. “Hopefully your kids will be better to you than I was to my folks.”

The trike just stared at her. There was no emotion outright expressed in its face, but Faith could not help but suspect she could see something in those eyes. Maybe it was her imagination anthropomorphizing the thing, but she felt like those eyes were conveying something like I don’t know what your issue is, or why you’re giving me lip.

Faith suddenly chuckled. The dinosaur could not care less for her existence. If it felt threated, there would be all kinds of warning signs. It would be stomping its feet and threatening to run her down. Instead, it went about its business.

She relaxed her posture and moved closer to the middle of the nest, making sure not to get too close to the eggs. All she wanted was to make a little more space between herself and the trees.

Her hands instinctively tapped her pockets in search of her cigarettes. If she ever needed a smoke, it was now.

“Fuck.” They were in the damn truck, all the way back at the farm. There was no way in hell she would be getting those back.

Faith sat on the ground and watched the trike. Seeing the eggs and the freshness of the nest, a certain fact dawned on her. The trike had just given birth!

“Holy shit!” she exclaimed. The creature turned its head towards her. Faith smiled. “I guess congratulations are in order. The eggs are fertilized, right? If not, then… dibs on the omelet!”

The trike snorted again and went back about its business. Again, Faith could not help but detect some expression in those eyes. Maybe something akin to I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you wanna stay, it’s fine by me.

Faith took her up on that for a while. A benevolent dinosaur was undoubtedly a nice change of pace after the rest of this evening. She remained seated, her energy gradually returning. As her mental clarity came back, it brought a feeling of optimism. She could just continue hanging out with the trike with no significant risk of the Drago showing its ugly face. Someone was bound to show up eventually.

Yeah, someone will show up… and run into that thing out there.

“Crap.”

There were times Faith hated her ability to be considerate of other people. Right now was one of those times. As long as that thing was prowling around out there, everyone in the valley was in danger. The sheriff’s office needed to be notified. Problem was, she did not have a phone, thanks to the late Martin. No way was Faith going to chance going to Jacob’s truck in hopes of finding his phone. Her best bet was to go north toward the Bengal Road and the train tracks.

Faith felt her heart rate start to climb again. As far as she knew, going in any direction was a gamble.

I can’t just sit here. I can’t have anyone’s death be on my head. Not again…

No amount of self-guilt changed the fact that she had heard movement somewhere out there a few minutes ago.

As though to remind her of its existence, the thing moved again.

The trike looked up, calm but ready to handle any situation. The visitor moved closer at a casual pace, making no attempt to keep its presence a secret.

Faith exhaled a long sigh of relief after watching the doe prance near the clearing. It pointed its ears upwards and perked its head up, perplexed by the sight of the enormous Triceratops. It remained still for a minute or two, then went on about its business, confident that the three-horned animal was not a threat.

Faith watched it trek eastward until it was far into the woods. If the Drago was nearby, that doe would have been ripped apart by now. It had to have moved onward, probably south or east. There were plenty of farms in the area, each populated with unsuspecting livestock and residents.

It was unlikely she would be able to save them all, but she would sleep better knowing she did all she could.

She gave one last look at the trike. “Thanks for your help. Try not to go anywhere, okay?”

The animal continued building its nest without a care in the world for whatever she was saying.

Faith swallowed, asked God for another favor, then set out for the train tracks.

Chapter 10

The sight of the train brought mixed feelings. At first, Faith was happy to see something that resembled human civilization. Then she saw the huge hole in the back boxcar. The horror began here and it was not over yet.

It was safe to assume nobody had come by since her carjacking, or else there would probably be cops all over the place. Faith looked at the road where the body had been. It wasn’t there anymore. Looking farther up near the engine, near the track was a large piece of tarp wrapped into a makeshift body bag.

She remembered the other man who was here. Martin and Steve had called him Doc.

DOCTOR NEIL! That’s what they called him, she thought.

“Hello? Anyone there?” she called out. She immediately started second-guessing the idea of turning to this Dr. Neil guy for help. After all, she did not even know what kind of person he was. For all she knew, he was the mastermind behind the whole operation. Maybe he would try to have her silenced. Or killed. She was the only surviving witness to what would be a very public scandal. Covering up the many deaths caused by the Drago was going to be tricky in and of itself. It stood to reason it would be easier to have her permanently silenced and chalk it up as another casualty of whatever they would claim happened out here.

The question was whether Dr. Neil was the type to go along with such an evil act. The odds were not looking to be in her favor. He was involved in an operation shipping dinosaurs across the country, in service of what Faith considered was comfortable in assuming was not an organization concerned with high moral standards.

Maybe I should just take my chances and walk back to town.

A series of muffled growls and scuffling brought Faith’s attention to the third box car. There was a window placed near the sliding door. Curiosity got the better of Faith and she moved in to inspect.

The sounds of movement continued while she approached the large steel container. She could tell from the vibrations that there were not one, but two creatures in there, and neither of them were nearly as large as the trike. They had gone to opposite sides of the car, the growling sounds winding down after a few moments.

Faith put her eyes to the window.

“Whoa.”

As she thought, there were two creatures inside the car. They were different species, both bipedal, and apparently not getting along at the moment.

The nearest one had brown, scaly skin, was eleven feet long from head to tail, and had a large sail on its back. Its mouth was armed with sharp teeth, though nowhere near as large as the Drago’s.

Its companion was a heavy-set creature, measuring close to nine feet in length. It had a small head with a broad orbit, attached to a short, bulky neck. Its skin was smoother and darker than its sail-back counterpart and had short crowned teeth for consuming tough vegetation.

The bulky one bellowed its warning to the sail-back, which replied with a crocodilian hiss.

And just like that, the feud was over. Both animals went back to tending to their respective sides of the enclosure, having seemingly forgotten about the bad blood between them.

Faith stepped away from the window, her angst somewhat quelled. It was safe to assume those animals posed little threat to her. Even the more carnivorous-looking one did not seem particularly violent. Hell, it was housed in the same box car as a herbivore, and they appeared to be getting along. For the most part.

That angst quickly returned with the detection of a new sound. It came from the second-to-last box car – the largest one – and was not a growl or shifting mass. In a way, it was worse. Squeaking metal, similar to the whine of a metal door opening.

Faith looked down the line of box cars, preparing herself for the appearance of something wandering into the open.

Nothing.

Faith was officially no longer keen on sticking around. She had endured enough tension and close calls for one day. The Dr. Neil guy was nowhere to be found. If something else was running loose, it was reasonable to assume he had fallen victim to it. She decided to get a move on before she ended up next on the menu.

She moved eastward, ready to begin her trek back into town. A snorting sound, accompanied by a heavy gust of wind, stopped her in her tracks after only a few steps. Faith looked to the largest box car, and the hinged doorway swaying at its end.

Something was clearly in there, yet that door was not damaged. It was simply left open.

A slow, heavy motion reverberated from within the container. Whatever was in there, it was big. Bigger than the trike, even. Definitely not something that would fit through that little entryway, that was for damn sure.

All the same, Faith would feel better if the container was fully secured before she departed. She moved to the door, saw that it was completely intact and undamaged, and began to shut it. As she did, she got a look at the creature inside.

She had expected it to be another Triceratops or maybe a long-necked species, given the height of the car.

What she did see had a gargantuan skull with ten-inch teeth as thick as potatoes. It had two enormous hind legs and clawed feet wide enough to pancake the cab of her pickup truck. Its arms, on the other hand, were comically short. At least, she would have found it funny if the rest of the beast didn’t strike terror into her soul with its sheer presence.

It lay in a half-coiled position, eyes shut, another exhalation jetting from its massive nostrils. The head shifted, rubbing its chin against the floor.

Faith found herself once again unable to move, her instinct warning her that the beast would sense any motion she made. Fear aside, she would have been frozen solid anyway, for the mere sight of an honest-to-God Tyrannosaurus rex was hypnotic.

Attached to the slumbering creature’s neck was an IV stand with some lines. There was no medical bag present that she could see.

The head cocked to the side.

Faith clenched her jaw after watching the eyelid slowly begin to peel.

She stepped back. “Oh, shit…”

“Move! Move! Get away! Get away!”

Faith turned in time to see the man in the white dress shirt and loose tie sprinting toward the doorway. He pushed her out of his path and rushed into the container.

“Oh, God, oh, God. Don’t wake up. Don’t wake up. Please-please-please-please…”

He installed an IV drip and some other medical bag, then watched their contents flow through the lines into the Rex’s bloodstream. After a few moments, the eye shut and the stirring motion ceased.

The man tilted his head back, whispering, “Thank God.”

Faith found herself saying the same thing. The man, whose name was Dr. Neil, exited the box car and shut the door. After latching it, he gave her a good look, quickly recognizing Faith as the woman whose truck had been taken by his associates.

“Oh, it’s you!” There was genuine relief in his voice. “Thank God you’re alright. I was sure those idiots would get you killed.” He started looking around for her truck. “Where’s Martin and Steve? Were they able to catch it?”

Faith shook her head. “They’re dead.”

Dr. Neil’s face soured. He turned to face the woods.

“Oh, no. That means it’s still out there. Damn it, I told Roger… never mind. This never should have happened.” He looked at Faith. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, I got away by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin,” she replied.

“And your truck?”

“Wrecked down that way.” She pointed down the road where they tracked the Drago. “It attacked a farm. Killed everyone and everything there. AFTER gutting a couple in a truck less than a mile that way. People I knew.”

The doc backed up and slumped against the box car. For a couple of minutes, he stared aimlessly into the trees, appearing like a man condemned to eternity in hell.

“I never should have gone along with this,” he muttered. “I warned them this could happen.” He put a hand over his stomach. The temptation to vomit was very real.

Faith stood next to him. It was evident this man was not evil. He was just caught up in the wrong business, and was wholly regretting it.

“My name’s Faith,” she said, hoping to stir him from his downward spiral.

He looked at her and managed a smile. “Dr. Alan Neil. Just call me Alan.”

“Okay, Alan,” she said. “What kind of doctor are you? A vet?”

“I have some training in that area, but my doctorate is in paleobiology. Thought it was a dream come true when these bad boys were discovered. Now? I’m starting to wish I became an electrician.”

“What the hell is all this?” Faith asked, waving her hand at the line of box cars. “Dinosaurs? I mean, how?! Better yet; why?! Why would someone want to bring these animals here? I mean, clearly you all knew how violent some of them are.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, Faith,” Alan said. “Damn! I surrendered myself to the stupid hope that Martin and Steve would be able to recapture the Drago before it killed anyone else. Gosh, this is worse than I ever would have guessed. If it’s doing what you said it’s doing, then it’s not just hungry. It’s on a rampage. And if we don’t get this train out of here, Ol’ Drinker here will be equally as pissed.”

“Drinker? The Rex?” Faith gulped. “Didn’t you give it a new sedative?”

Alan nodded. “Problem is, I think they have a bad reaction to the meds. Like with the Drago-raptor, it can cause an adrenaline rush of extreme aggression. And these are animals who are hyper-violent to begin with. Trust me, I’ve seen it firsthand.”

“Yeah, I believe it. Trust me, my friends have seen it firsthand. And it was the last thing they ever saw.”

Alan looked away from her. “I’m so sorry.”

Faith took a breath. “If the sedatives are so bad for the dinos, why did you hook up an IV line?”

“’Cause I have nothing else to work with,” Alan said. “If I let him wake up, there’ll be no stopping him. Believe me, I was against bringing him here. Like I said, he’s a menace even without the influence of drugs. He and the Drago are the most violent animals to ever exist in the history of this planet.”

“Then why is it here?” Faith asked.

Alan shrugged. “Why do you think?”

Faith could only think of one word that summed it all up. “Money.”

Alan nodded. “That, and hubris.” He watched the woods. “Did they happen to make any calls before they were killed?”

“They spoke to someone who was supposed to inform a guy named Roger of the situation.”

“Roger Trill,” Alan said. “The good news is, he ought to be getting a crew together right now. The bad news is, he’ll try and cover it up. Knowing him, he’ll go to whatever lengths necessary. He’ll blame the massacres on, I don’t know, escaped prisoners or zoo animals, or something like that. No doubt, there’s a thinktank currently constructing a story.”

“And what about me?” Faith asked.

Alan gave her a good, long look while he formulated his answer. “I guess it depends. He might try and buy you off. You’ll probably have to give some story or other to the press affirming their cover story. If not…”

The way his voice trailed off told Faith everything else she needed to know.

Alan moved from the box car, completely restless. “How they’re gonna catch it without anyone noticing will be a real feat.”

“Won’t be too hard if everyone’s already dead,” Faith said.

Alan exhaled. “There is that. God, then there’s the issue of finding the Trike.”

“Oh, her?” Faith said. “I ran into her, too. She’s out that way, maybe a half-mile into the woods.”

A new energy filled Alan’s veins. “Oh, good! She’s staying put?”

“Yep.”

He smiled. At least one thing was going his way tonight.

“Good.” He stared at Faith for a moment. “How’d you know she’s a ‘she’?”

Faith smiled. “The eggs gave it away.”

Alan’s jaw dropped. “Oh, God. She went into labor. Damn it! I warned them this would happen. The sudden stopping of the train might have stressed her into giving birth.”

“She seems alright,” Faith said. “I was able to hang around her until I was sure the Drago was gone.”

“That sounds about right,” Alan replied. “They’re actually pretty calm creatures. Probably helps to have those big ol’ horns and the power of an eighteen-wheeler at full speed. I know it would boost my confidence. But honestly, they only get aggressive when attacked, which most predators are smart enough not to do. Or if their offspring is in danger. In that case, the Triceratops will chase you to the ends of the earth, and won’t stop until you’re dead.”

He quickly started walking to the first car behind the engine. He went inside, rummaged through some items, then reemerged with a large bag.

“What are you doing?” Faith asked.

“I’d like to check on her, if you’d be willing to take me to where her nest is.”

Faith crossed her arms. “There’s something we need to do first. Give me your phone. We HAVE to notify the sheriff.”

Alan bit his lip. His face had the look of a man torn between his ideals and his own self-interest. There was a good chance he would be held criminally liable for the events that occurred in the valley tonight. Owning up to such a reality was not easy.

In the end, he proved to be up to the task. He dug a phone out and handed it to Faith.

“Hopefully they believe you. Unfortunately, I’m not sure what the cops will be able to do.” He looked in the distance. “It could be anywhere.”

Chapter 11

“…Uh-huh… uh-huh… Alright. Anything else you forgot? Speak now or forever hold your peace. Or, make your own damn run into town.”

Dean kept his hands at ten and two, listening to Walt’s phone exchange with Tony. It seemed they could never make a beer run without that idiot suddenly remembering something he wanted them to pick up. Every single time, they asked all the hands of the Duggan Ranch for a list of everything they wanted, provided they also supplied the cash. But the pea-brain Tony Taylor was like a five-year-old kid, either changing his mind in the eleventh hour, or dissatisfied with the number of items on his wish list.

“Uh-huh… you’re absolutely sure? … Alright, don’t call me again, Tony… Yeah, see ya later.” He ended the call and leaned against Monica. “That guy, I swear.”

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing the two dusty lovebirds with their hands on each others’ thighs.

“What was it this time?” he asked.

Walt shook his head. “Would you believe it? GUMMY WORMS! The guy blew up my phone for freaking gummy worms!”

The brunette Monica dropped her head and laughed. “Are you for real?”

Walt looked at her. “It’s Tony we’re talking about. What do you think?”

“Oh, dear,” the cowgirl said.

“Please don’t tell me that was it,” Dean said.

“Nah. He also asked for French onion dip and for some bottles of margarita.”

Dean snorted. “Probably the cheap shit.”

“That’s exactly what he requested,” Walt said. “Granted, he did say the brand name.”

“Oh, be nice,” Monica said. “People like what they like. No need to judge.”

“There’s plenty of room to judge,” Dean clapped back. “Especially when we have Josie in the bunkhouse. She’s practically our private bartender.”

“She makes kickass drinks, that’s for sure,” Walt added.

“Hey!” Monica gently smacked the back of his head, noting his dream-like voice when talking about Josie. “I can make a killer marg. Why don’t you ever ask me?”

“There’s other services I prefer to use you for,” Walt said with an obnoxious chuckle. He braced for the inevitable punishment.

“Services, huh?” She smacked the back of his head again. “Let’s see what luck you have getting ‘services’ tonight.”

Dean winced. “I’m on pins and needles.” The downside of working on the largest ranch in the valley was having to share a bunkhouse with over a dozen cowboys, many of whom were not very discreet with their needs. Whenever there was a female in the workforce, it was even worse. Walt and Monica were no different, a fact made clear by them choosing to ride in the back and leaving the shotgun seat vacant.

It wasn’t long before their banter turned into smooching. Dean grimaced and paid attention to the road. There was no point in telling those two to get a room. Anything he had to say would fall on deaf ears.

Their route soon took them to an intersection with Soul Road. A few yards past the yield sign was a four-wheeler and trailer. Dean raised an eyebrow. They were on the east side of the Redford’s ranch. Their pastures extended from Soul Road all the way up to the wooded area, which itself went all the way up to Bengal Road.

It was common for Mr. Redford or one of his hands to use the four-wheeler to deliver hay to this part of the pasture, but never this late in the evening. The horses should have been in the barn or their corral right about now.

There was no rider on the vehicle. As a matter of fact, there were no ranchers or hands to be seen. The horses were not on this part of the property either. It was possible someone was laying out hay for the next morning, except it was still in the trailer.

Movement in the distance made him slow down. He thought it was a deer at first. Like everywhere else in the country, they had a tendency to cross the road only when there was an oncoming vehicle.

Then he noted the size of the animal. That was no deer, but one of Mr. Redford’s horses.

As he neared the four-wheeler, he saw the flattened piece of fence. “Dear lord!” He stepped on the brakes. His truck came to a stop a few feet past the trailer… and the dismembered body lying behind it. “DEAR LORD!”

Walt and Monica broke from their kissing session and looked out the window. Monica was quick to clap her hands over her mouth.

“Oh, my God!”

“What happened?!” Walt asked.

“You’re asking ME?” Dean replied. He put the truck in park and stepped out. Walt was right behind him, with Monica remaining by the door.

It was definitely Mr. Redford. They could tell by the black Loredo boots on his feet. Aside from that, there was little left to match with the raspy-voiced rancher whom their boss frequently played cards with.

“Holy shit, Dean,” Walt said. “There’s hardly anything left of him. Oh, my God! His arm got ripped off!”

“Keep it together, damn it,” Dean said.

“What could have done this?” Monica asked, hands still raised to her face.

Dean did not have an answer. As far as he knew, only animals and machinery were capable of this much savagery. The only piece of equipment nearby was the four-wheeler, and there was not an animal in the world that could do this to a human. At least, not around here.

“Wait, call the sheriff. Tell him to get his ass out here.”

Walt continued to stare dumbfounded at the body for several more seconds before Dean’s words kicked in. He pulled his phone from his belt, brought up the keypad screen, and lowered his thumb to dial.

The millisecond before his thumb made contact, the device vibrated with an incoming call.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, his thumb accidentally landing on the accept call button. He cursed again after seeing the name Tony at the top of the screen. Right away, the idiot could be heard through the speaker listing off more items for them to pick up. Walt shook his free hand, unable to get a word in. “Listen, Tony… Tony… No, Ton… T… Tony, I can’t… Tony, would you shut up for a minute?!”

“Just hang up!” Dean said. “It’s not a difficult concept.”

“Listen, Tony, I gotta go.” Walt lowered the phone and ended the call. “Stupid fuck.” He brought the keyboard screen up again.

“Come on, come on,” Dean insisted.

“I’m hurrying!” Walt snapped. “If you had the foresight to charge your own damn phone more than once a week, maybe we’d…” His voice trailed off, the ranch hand motionless as he stared past Dean.

“What?” Dean slapped his hands against his legs in frustration. All of a sudden, Monica screamed. She was looking in the same direction.

Dean turned around and saw the reptilian creature in the middle of the pasture. It stood like a large turkey, though everything besides its posture was anything but birdlike.

Dangling from its jaws was something blue and red.

Dean was now the one with a hand cupped over his mouth. Blue overalls and red entrails dangled from the severed torso of Reuben, Mr. Redford’s foreman. Even from this distance, they could see the horror of his final moments conveyed by his lifeless face – which was still intact, at least.

Dean took a step back. “Holy sweet Je…”

The creature dropped Reuben’s remains and charged the group with a speed surpassing that of the fastest flat racing thoroughbred at the rodeo.

Walt and Monica scrambled for the perceived safety of the truck, the former losing his grip on his phone as he slammed the door shut.

Dean started to turn, failing to even face towards the truck before he was set upon. Next thing he knew, he was forced onto the ground by a force that felt otherworldly. Or demonic.

A huge foot, with an equally huge claw, stomped on his abdomen. Dean stuck his tongue out and gagged, feeling the curved weapon pulling against his insides. The foot slid from his lower left ribs to the right of his crotch, the contents quick to spill out. Dean was not yet aware of the damage, instead preoccupied with the agony of his right arm seized in the vise-like grip of the monster’s jaws. Teeth cut like surgical instruments through the skin and muscle tissue, the bite force making short work of the bone. With a twist and pull, the creature separated the limb from Dean’s body.

He stared up, blood pulsing from his shoulder and guts, numbed by shock as the thing sported his severed arm in its jaws.

The sound of an engine drew its attention to the truck. Walt had climbed into the driver’s seat and was attempting to get the vehicle moving.

It dropped the limb and sprang at the window, leaving Dean groaning in a pool of his own blood. By now, the fiery pain in his guts was in full force. He reached down to hold his insides in, his brain not yet aware of the missing arm.

There was a shattering of glass and the grinding of tires against dirt. Dean looked to the right, witnessing the thing’s thrashing tail and feet sticking out of the door. The screaming Walt quickly lost control of the vehicle, his shoulder and face assaulted by a blur of teeth and claws.

The truck veered to the left and hit a fence post. An angry shriek preceded a sound of bending hinges and latches. With a furious motion, the door was ripped from the cab. The creature tossed it away and resumed its assault, pulling the bloody Walt from the seat and forcing him to the ground.

“No! No! NAAAAAHHHH!!!”

His back arched, the man practically balancing on his heels and the back of his head while his chest and belly were opened up like book covers. The forelimbs amped up the misery with scooping motions, unearthing chunks of lung tissue and rib bone.

Satisfied with its destruction of Walt, it returned to the truck to conclude this slaughter session with the screaming Monica. It slammed against the door with all its might, folding it inward. It struck again and again, its actions intentional, even to the dying Dean Fenneman. It was as though it had encountered these large vehicles before and was annoyed by the troublesome barrier between itself and its victim.

It broke the latch and yanked the door open. It watched Monica cowering on the other side for a moment, then promptly threw itself at her.

The truck rocked back and forth, the rear windshield splattered by a tsunami of blood. The screaming stopped and the creature retracted from the back seat, holding a mound of flesh in its jaws.

It turned to face Dean, spitting the innards from its mouth before approaching to finish its work.

Sweet Mary, let me die right now…

His wish was granted, just not right away. He had to endure the rest of his evisceration first.

Chapter 12

“Oh, come on, Sheriff! We weren’t that rowdy!”

Sheriff Emmett McCarn pushed the two whining drunks into their adjacent jail cells. The out-of-towners were wasting little time getting started with the Fourth of July celebrations. Of course, there was more booze at play than fireworks, and the sheriff wanted to get a jump on things before they got their hands on the latter.

“Nap it off. Otherwise, unless you need anything other than bread and water, keep your traps shut.”

The intoxicated construction workers gasped in astonishment.

“Bread and water?!” the second one exclaimed. “What is this? The Old West?”

The other drunk scoffed. “Where have you been working lately? Haven’t you SEEN this place? It’s in the middle of nowhere. That’s why we’re here! To liven it up!”

McCarn rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me.” He passed through a doorway which led into the main part of the police station. He offered a wave to the desk officer, Shelley, as he cut through the lounge to the offices.

“Staying late, huh, Emmett?”

“With those Mosser jokers in town, I don’t see any other choice,” he replied. “I had to kick a few of them out of the bar, and locked up a couple of others who were getting a little too hands-on with their waitress at the diner. Word is these idiots are planning a fireworks party. I’m doing my best to keep the town from burning down. Drunks with fireworks is a recipe for disaster.”

“Why not just shut the whole thing down?” Shelley asked. “Tell them they can’t do it.”

“I wish. But the law says they can,” McCarn said.

“Oh, come on,” Shelley said with a laugh. “You’re the sheriff. You ARE the law!”

“Ha!” McCarn pretended to flex. “I’ll tell them that next time I have to break up another drunken crowd.” He groaned. “These freaking people. I could be home on my recliner right now. Instead, I’ve got these people acting like they own the place. At least it’s bound to be an interesting night, I guess.”

As though to make his point, the phone rang. Shelley smirked and answered it.

“Sheriff’s office.” Her eyebrows quickly lifted into her hairline and that smirk enlarged to comical proportions. “Uh-huh… Is that so?”

“What is it?’ McCarn mouthed.

Shelley held a finger up, still listening to the plight of the caller. “Oh! Dinosaur? By the train tracks, say? And your name? … And you work with the Mosser company? …Okay. Alright, we’ll get somebody right on it. Thanks. Bye.”

McCarn could still hear the voice on the other end of the line as Shelley hung up. He cracked a smile after seeing her expression.

“Oh. My. Heavens,” she exclaimed. “Them big city dispatchers like to brag about the various unique calls they get, and how us townsfolk apparently never have any interesting stories. Well, wait ‘til they hear this one!”

Right then, a deputy entered the lobby from the office area. “What’d I miss?”

“Something about a dinosaur,” McCarn said. “I did hear that right, right?”

Shelley nodded. “According to the caller, it’s on a killing spree! Terrorizing the countryside!”

Deputy Sean Curtis shut his eyes and began to shake with laughter. “Hold on to your butts!”

“Oh, geez!” McCarn chuckled. “She was a Mosser employee? The caller?”

“Yeah,” Shelley replied.

McCarn threw his head back. “That tells me all I need to know. Just another drunk construction worker goofing off. Only this time, they’re actually prank-calling us.”

“Want me to go check it out?” Deputy Curtis asked.

McCarn shook his head. “I’m not entertaining this bullshit. If we fall for it once, they’ll keep doing it. Don’t forget, these dummies are here to stay for at least a couple more months. Probably longer, if that second community ends up getting built.”

“Fair enough,” Curtis said. “It’s just you’re pretty stern on the ‘there’s no call we don’t respond to’ mindset.”

“Generally, yes. When it comes to the regular population in the valley. But in case you’ve forgotten, the call was about a damn DINOSAUR! On an evening when half of the Mosser workforce is getting all boozed up. If something was really going on, I’m sure someone like maybe Mr. Redford would have called us by now.”

“Fair enough,” Curtis said again. “Best to keep our manpower here in town where the literal fireworks will be, anyway.”

“Precisely,” McCarn said. He poured himself a mug of coffee and headed for the office area, shaking his head. “Dinosaurs. What next?”

Chapter 13

Breathing a bitter groan, Faith handed the phone back to Alan. He accepted the device, reading her tone and body language.

“I’m guessing that didn’t go well?”

“I effed up,” she answered. “Damn it. I’m such an idiot. I was dumb enough to mention the word ‘dinosaur’. How would you respond to that call?”

“Mmm.” Alan nodded, understanding what she was getting at. “So, they tell you to go fly a kite?”

Faith sniggered. “They said they’d send someone. I’m not sure they were serious. My gut says we’re on our own.” She brushed her hair from her eyes and shrugged. “Not much more I can do at this point. I mean, I could try the state police or the National Guard.”

Alan thought about that for a moment. His conscience soon got the better of him and he made a direct call to the nearest state police station.

“Hello, my name is Dr. Alan Neil. I’m calling from the San Zecariah Valley, a few miles from the town of Redbud. I’m calling to report a series of homicides… Oh? Is that right?” He bit his lip, listening to what the dispatcher had to say. “Right… I see. I will, uh, I’ll head to the sheriff’s office.” He immediately hung up.

Faith was now reading his tone and body language. “I’m guessing that didn’t go well?”

“Mr. Trill obviously didn’t trust me to keep quiet. He alerted all the major police stations in the area of Dr. Alan Neil, a paranoid schizophrenic who has been off his meds for at least a week and has gone missing.”

“Therefore, discounting everything you had to say,” Faith said. “But wouldn’t they send a car?”

“Evidently, my ‘doctor’ and a team of specialists are already en route. They’ve already pinpointed my phone’s GPS. Yadda yadda. I guess they’re worried I’d react violently if a uniformed officer attempts to pick me up.”

Faith whistled. “I guess you were right. Your boss is wasting no time getting on top of this.” She looked at their surroundings. They were a little more than halfway to the trike’s nest. She pointed southeast. “She’s a little farther this way.”

“Okay.” Alan knelt by his duffle bag. Faith suppressed the urge to roll her eyes as he checked its contents for what felt like the hundredth time. After further thought, she could not blame him for being nervous. Everything had gone wrong this evening so far. A little peace of mind went a long way.

Alan made sure all of his medical equipment was accounted for, then pulled out a rectangular case. He opened it, revealing a large pistol. For a moment, Faith thought she was looking at a .44 Magnum, straight out of the movies. After seeing the bolt behind the sights and the dart in Alan’s hand, she recognized it as a tranq pistol.

She could almost read his thoughts as he stared into the woods. They were in the Drago’s hunting grounds. From here on out, the pistol was useless unless it was in his hands.

He loaded a dart into the weapon and sealed the rest of his supplies in the bag. With it slung over his shoulder, he gripped the pistol with both hands.

Watching how he handled it, it was abundantly clear to Faith he was no marksman.

“Maybe you’d have better luck if you were in that tree stand,” she said. Alan looked at her, then up at the direction she was pointing. Twenty feet up in a nearby tree was an elevated blind. Basically a metal chair and platform, it was attached to the trunk with a boomerang-shaped metal strap.

“I suppose this is probably a popular deer hunting spot,” he said.

“Good thing it’s not hunting season,” Faith remarked. “The hunters would become the hunted.”

They resumed their trek.

“How many eggs did Mary have?”

“Hmm?” Faith glanced back at him, then realized he was referring to the trike. “Oh. Three.” She continued leading the way. “Mary, huh? They all have names? Mary, Drinker?”

“Yeah. Spend enough time with these animals, it sort of becomes second nature to call them something other than their species’ designation,” Alan replied. “Mary is named after Mary Anning, who discovered the first documented dinosaur skeleton. A plesiosaurus, to be exact.”

“Fascinating,” Faith said. “Not quite as fascinating as the existence of living dinosaurs. Where’d they come from?”

Alan clicked his tongue. Where to begin?

“Roger Trill has his hands in many enterprises. One of them is an oil company. A FAILING oil company, to be precise. Long story short, CO2 emissions were discovered on an uninhabited rock a few hundred miles southeast of New Zealand. We thought the island was nothing but a big rock in the middle of the South Pacific. Its shorelines are nothing but huge cliffs. We decided to investigate the island to see if it could be the site of an oil reservoir.”

“‘We’?” Faith asked.

Alan frowned. “Paleobiologists and paleontologists aren’t typically swimming in money. In many cases, we’re lucky to find work at all. I worked for the Trill company as a geologist.”

“I see,” Faith said. “And the dinosaurs, they were there? Behind the cliff walls?”

“More or less,” Alan said. “In the middle of the island is a large crevice, miles long, leading to probably one of the most unique geographic anomalies on the planet. A world several hundred feet below. The island essentially acts as a dome covering many miles of it. Only the center crevice provides access for sunlight.”

“And the dinosaurs survived underneath it,” Faith concluded. Her voice went up a pitch. “Amazing.”

For a moment, she forgot about the threat lurking in the valley.

“What started as a survey job for oil became a scientific expedition.” Alan’s voice turned grave. “A very costly expedition.”

It was not hard for Faith to envision the meaning behind that statement. Just the thought of being on an offshore world full of prehistoric beasts was nearly panic-inducing, especially after what she had gone through tonight. The only reason she agreed to lead Alan into the woods was because the trike’s nest was literally the safest place in the valley.

“What’s your boss’ reasoning for bringing them here?”

“With the oil company going under, he decided to cover his losses by starting a new billion-dollar venture. Basically, the age-old ambition of putting rare, exotic animals on display. He was going to temporarily house them on a property in Montana until his exhibit was ready to go. Currently, it is undergoing construction near Manhattan. Once it’s ready, the animals will be shipped there.”

“In New York?!” Faith exclaimed.

“He knew he’d get more eyes on the dinosaurs if he placed them near a heavily-populated city,” Alan explained. “Also, it’s cheaper in the long run. If he set up in an isolated area, he’d have to build infrastructure, ship supplies long distance, worry about staff housing, and so forth.”

“My gosh,” Faith muttered. “So, that guy decided to ship the dinos across the country by train. Then things went wrong, forced your engineer to apply the brakes.”

“The Drago got loose through a hatch in the ceiling of its car,” Alan explained. “Made its way over the top of the cars to the engine, attacked the engineer, he hit the brakes, the sudden motion likely stressing Mary the Triceratops into labor.”

Faith shuddered at the very mention of the Drago. The image of those snapping jaws reaching through the truck window would be forever infused into her brain.

“Why would he want that thing?” she asked. “The others, I can mostly understand. The trike, those other two…” She strained to think of their species’ names.

“Oh! Sal and Cal,” Alan said. “Sal’s a Dimetrodon; the one with a sail. It’s used for temperature regulation and for attracting mates. Cal is something called a Moschops. They’re harmless, as long as they don’t smother you, the fat bastards. They generally eat ferns, roots, things of that nature.”

“And you paired Cal with a carnivore?” Faith said.

Alan smiled. “We observed that Dimetrodons prefer small prey, such as rodents and fish. They generally leave bigger animals alone. Yeah, he and Cal occasionally have their spats, but at the end of the day, they’re old buddies.”

“Ah.” Faith put two and two together. “Were they together on the island?”

“Yep. They were also the easiest ones to wrangle. Easier than Mary, that’s for sure. And definitely easier than the Drago.”

Faith cringed again. “The Drago; what is that thing?”

“Drago-raptor,” Alan explained. “Similar to deinonychus, but with no feathers, and bigger claws–both on their hands and toes.” He stopped and glanced about. Now it was he who was cripplingly anxious about the predator. Faith could practically read his thoughts, since she was undergoing the same thing. Alan was haunted by horrid memories of fellow explorers getting massacred by the Drago and other monstrosities on the island.

“That’s why your boss, Roger Trill, wanted it, isn’t it?” she said. “He wants to exploit its savagery. Give it live prey in front of paying customers. Make a show for a bunch of sick freaks to enjoy. And knowing humans and their nature, plenty would pay top dollar for such an experience.”

Alan pursed his lips and nodded. With that in mind, they hastened their walk to the trike’s nest.

“The thing is a menace,” Alan said. “It’s meaner, more violent than anything God put on this earth in its four-plus-billion-year history.” A long, dreadful sigh followed the statement. “Aside from maybe Drinker.”

Faith suddenly felt cold.

“The rex?”

Alan inhaled deeply. “Yeah.”

“How bad is it?”

“Devil incarnate,” Alan replied. “A true tyrant, who ruled by pure force. You’ll never meet a more powerful organism. If he does come after you, take solace in knowing you’ll likely get a quick death. If you’re not crushed under one of his feet, you’re bound to be instantly pulverized by his jaws.”

Faith nodded. “I reckon a mouth that big has got to deliver a hell of a force.”

Alan stopped to look at her. “The rex’s bite force measures at thirty-five thousand newtons. If you didn’t know, that’s enough to pancake a car.”

Faith responded with a dumbfounded “Oh!”

“He reigned supreme on the island, killing even when he wasn’t hungry,” Alan continued. “Everything avoided him. Even Mary.”

“Really?” Faith would have assumed a Triceratops of all things would have the stones to stand up to a T-rex, even one as big as Drinker. “Well, you did say they’re surprisingly docile, unless their young are threatened.”

“Docile, and not stupid either,” Alan said. “A rex, especially one as big as Drinker, are not to be trifled with. Not unless you’re craving a world of hurt.”

Faith sensed he spoke directly from experience.

She smirked. “Why the name Drinker?”

“Named after Edward Drinker Cope,” Alan explained. “He was many things: zoologist, herpetologist, ichthyologist. Mainly he was known for his work as a paleontologist. Was part of a big feud with a guy named Marsh, called the Bone Wars. Basically a big fossil-hunting rivalry that went from the 1870s to the 1890s. They were assholes. Brilliant assholes, but still assholes.”

“Like Drinker,” Faith concluded.

Alan gave a thumbs-up. “Ditto.”

“Would that make the Drago Marsh?” she asked.

That managed to get a laugh from Alan.

“That fits. Honestly, he’s the only one we never officially named. Frankly, everyone tries to avoid him as much as possible.”

They stopped at the sound of heavy footsteps up ahead. A feeling of levity came over the pair.

“We’re here,” Faith said. She led him through a grove of trees and into the clearing.

The trike lifted her gaze, her majestic body relaxing after she recognized the two harmless humans.

A big smile came over Alan’s face as he gazed at her and her unhatched offspring.

“Hey, sweetie. I see you’ve been busy.”

Chapter 14

The tiny flame ate through the thin green fuse, climbing into the black powder lift charge. The rocket soared high into the evening sky with a piercing screech, bursting into a spectacular display of colored sparks.

Tanner whistled at the sight, a group of folding chairs tucked under his arms. The show master, Bradley, was in his glory, setting off a few lesser fireworks while he got his main setup ready. For him, they were the appetizer before the main course. It wouldn’t be long before the sun sank deep enough into the horizon to provide the necessary darkness for the bigger fireworks to flash in their full glory.

“Here, man. I’ll take a couple of those from you.”

Tanner looked to Alfredo, who approached with his arms outstretched towards the chairs he carried.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” He let his work buddy liberate a couple of chairs from his grasp, then walked with him to the newest row of seats they were constructing. “At least SOMEBODY’S willing to lend a hand.”

A series of bottle rockets went off, making his point. The whole Mosser crowd had gathered in the field west of the town to view the show – everyone but Faith, Hank Gossett, Kyle Dexter, and Jacob and his girlfriend. Obviously, Faith had gone to her cousin’s house for the night. Kyle and Hank, however, would be listening to the echoes of the show from the jail cells they would be spending the night in. The dumb idiots were quick to hit the sauce. Even with nothing in their systems, they lacked a filter when it came to crude behavior. Once beer and liquor entered the equation, they had nearly no boundaries they wouldn’t cross. They had been lucky they had not been charged with anything too serious up to this point, given how hands-on they liked to get with women. Given the incident between them and their waitress tonight, Tanner would not be surprised if Mr. Mosser cut them loose.

It was a loss Tanner and Alfredo would not mourn. They liked this gig. It was a big job, they didn’t have to deal with the hustle and traffic of more urban areas, and most importantly, it paid well, even without the overtime. They did not want the dumber workers within their ranks screwing it up for everyone else.

“We’ve got company,” Alfredo said.

Tanner followed his finger. Parked near the post office were two deputy vehicles. Four men in dark button-down shirts and tin stars stood by, arms crossed, chatting with one another while they supervised the event.

“Great.”

“I don’t think this town likes us very much,” Alfredo said.

“Aside from the grocery store owner and the hotel owner, this whole county isn’t too fond of us. Can’t say I blame them too much, especially tonight.” He put the chairs in their row, then made a beeline for the cooler. “That does it for me. I need a…” He lifted the lid and stared at the three bottles of beer that remained. An hour ago, the thing was jam-packed with beer and soda. Plenty of the latter remained. But the beer?

A series of firecrackers drew him to the whereabouts of the missing bottles. Several of his associates, people he usually considered friends, were goofing off with the little explosives. At their feet was a graveyard of empty bottles. While he, Bradley, and Alfredo busted their asses getting everything set up, these jokers had been busy getting hammered.

“Are you guys for real?!” he exclaimed.

One of the guys looked at him and shrugged. “What?”

“Mind dialing it down?” Tanner said. “Particularly with the beer? We’re already on thin ice as it is.” He directed their eyes to the cop cars.

“Oh,” was the only thing the dummy could muster.

“Yeah. ‘Oh’,” Tanner said. “And thanks for leaving almost nothing for the rest of us.”

“There’s the diet coke,” one of the others said.

“Oh, right. Uh-huh,” Tanner groaned and went for his truck.

“Heading into town?” Alfredo asked.

“Yeah. Gonna try and catch the grocery store before they close up. Hopefully we can have some kind of beverage that isn’t loaded with artificial sweetener.”

He arrived at his truck and grabbed the door handle. As he opened it, his ears detected a faint sizzling sound near his feet. He looked down just as the fuse burnt down to the trigger of the orange cone fountain. An eruption of sparks ejected from its tip, forcing Tanner to stagger backwards.

“Holy goddamn!!” His faced turned as red as the flames themselves as the fountain continued spitting, singeing the side of his truck in the process.

After a few moments, the sparking reached its conclusion, the crackling sounds replaced by juvenile laughter. Tanner, his brow furrowed, pivoted to look at the knuckleheads Bart and Eddie. The two pudgy morons folded over, their guts poking out from under their shirts as they relished in their misbehavior.

He looked again at the damage to his paint. For the first time in his life, he found himself contemplating murder.

“Alright, that’s it.”

From the worksite, south of the field, came Don Kim, the site foreman. Having witnessed the stupidity from the trailers, he was quick to intervene before things could get extra rowdy. He snapped his fingers at Eddie and Bart. “You two; out! Go. Leave.”

“Aw, come on, boss,” Eddie said, still chuckling.

“No, the appropriate phrase I believe is GO on,” Don said. He tilted his head at the other vehicles. “Go on. Git. You’re excluded from this party.”

“Well, you’re not one for fun, are ya, Don?” Bart said.

“Dude, you literally damaged his truck. Which you’re paying for, by the way.” Don tapped the blackened wheel well on Tanner’s truck.

Eddie backed away, his wide smile now a nervous grin. “We’re not fired, are we?”

“You will be if you’re still here in the next ten seconds,” Don replied. “I don’t care where you go, but you’re not staying here. Now, scram.”

Eddie and Bart were quick to turn tail and retreat to the latter’s SUV. Eddie climbed into the passenger seat, sniggering as he watched Tanner chatting with Don.

“Boy, isn’t he mad?”

Bart reached into the back seat and pulled a couple of beers he had lifted from the cooler. He handed one to Eddie and popped the cap off his.

“It was worth it,” he said with a smile.

“Too bad we’ll miss the show.” Eddie’s voice was monotone. He and Bart liked their fireworks, but watching someone else do it was a bore. They might as well watch someone else play a video game that they would rather be playing.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got us covered.” Bart reached again into the back seat, revealing a small box of fireworks he’d lifted from Bradley’s stock when he wasn’t looking.

Eddie’s face lit up with joy. “Ohhh! What should we do with it?”

“Hmm, probably shouldn’t press our luck here,” Bart said. “I’d hate to end up like Hank and Kyle.”

“Or fired,” Eddie added.

Bart nodded. As obnoxious and inconsiderate as they were, they were at least wise enough to know the bills would not pay themselves, and that nobody would give them a handout in that event.

He cracked a smile. “I know what we could do. You remember the way to Faith’s house, right?”

Eddie rubbed his hands together like a cartoon villain. “I do.” He giggled at the thought of their plan. “She’s gonna be so pissed.”

“We’ll light them right outside her bedroom window,” Bart said. After a slug of beer, he started the engine and drove west, kicking up a cloud of dust that drifted over the rows of seats.

Chapter 15

Faith sat cross-legged near the eggs, quietly watching as Dr. Alan Neil performed his examination of Mary. The enormous herbivore was resting on her stomach, having completed her organization of her nest. She was completely at ease with Alan at her side, so much so she was unbothered by Faith’s close proximity to her unhatched offspring.

Though built for war, Mary was the embodiment of peace. Her presence alone had a way of lifting Faith’s stress, even after the nightmarish experiences she had endured up until now.

Faith’s hand swept over a few blades of grass. Their prickly sensation ignited a cloud of sorrow in her heart. What was so familiar to her was alien to the trike. All Mary’s life, she had lived with her own kind, sequestered from the rest of the planet. As far as she knew, the island WAS her world. Everything else may as well have not existed.

Now she was here, halfway around the world, in a completely different climate and geography. On the surface, the animal appeared indifferent. But Faith’s intuition told her otherwise. No way could something be this intelligent and not feel a little bit of sorrow. Not only was she taken from her home, but her young had been as well.

And yet, despite this reality, Mary did not hold a grudge against all humans. A lesser mind would probably conclude she was not, in fact, so intelligent, that she was just a clueless animal. Faith did not think so. In reality, Faith believed the trike understood that humans were not all the same, and she and Alan would return her home if they could.

Alan had explained the devious methods Roger Trill’s crew used to trap Mary. Her skin proved too thick for tranq darts, forcing them to lure her to the container using distress calls of a calf. It was a case where Alan’s research had been used for unethical gains, and without his knowledge. In his observations, he discovered the Triceratops were rather tender animals, adopting stranded orphans, and feeling sorrow for the deaths of others of their kind. This compassion led to Mary’s entrapment without the use of sedatives. Already lethargic from her pregnancy, she did not make much of an effort to escape. Only when labor was induced, combined with the threat of the rampaging Drago nearby, did she find the strength to break from her enclosure. By then, she was in North America.

“Blood pressure’s good,” Alan said. He placed the diaphragm of his stethoscope to her side. “Heart rate and breathing all sounds good. I bet most mothers wish they could feel this good after giving birth.”

Faith smiled at that. She had heard a story from her father about how her mom was on the day of her birth. She was ready to take baby Faith home that day, to hell with what the doctor wanted. Mom felt like a whole new woman, while most of the other mothers in the maternity ward were beyond exhausted.

Alan removed the cuff from Mary’s tail and packed it into his bag. “Hopefully you won’t mind if I check on your kids…” He eased towards the eggs, monitoring Mary’s body language. She had an eye on him, but otherwise did not try and intervene. He placed the chest piece of his stethoscope to one of the eggs. “Oh boy! You’re gonna have some energetic rascals keeping you busy.”

Faith chuckled, enjoying the bond clearly felt between Alan and Mary.

“She trusts you.”

Alan looked over at her. “Thank God. She’s smart. She knows I have her best interest in mind – lucky for me.”

“So, there were people she didn’t like?” Faith asked.

“Nobody that would surprise you if you knew them,” he answered. “One of them was Martin. Not a super nice guy.”

“Yeah,” Faith snorted. “I gathered that from the way he pointed a gun at my chest.”

Alan clenched his teeth. This was the first he heard of that aspect of the carjacking. He wasn’t too surprised.

“You okay?”

Faith held her hands out to showcase her presence. “I’m still breathing, aren’t I?”

“That you are.” Alan proceeded to check the other eggs. “He made the same mistake with Mary at one point. He had both her temperament and my intervention to thank for getting out of that scenario alive.”

“It seems Roger Trill hires a specific type,” Faith said.

“When it comes to the muscle, yes,” Alan replied. “Martin’s not even close to being the worst. That would be this guy named Danare; a mercenary-slash-big game hunter. He’s the macho ‘there’s no greater thrill than hunting something that hunts you back’ type.” Alan paused to grit his teeth, thinking of the less-than-pleasant memories from his time on the island. “Guys like Martin, not to defend his actions, but he’s the type who acts out of duress or self-preservation. But Danare? Going to that island was a thrill. A costly thrill, and you can be sure he charged Roger top dollar, but believe me, it was the kind of thing he lives for.”

“And we can assume Roger is recruiting him to recover the loose animals,” Faith surmised.

Alan returned to Mary’s side, looking like a concerned family member for an ill hospital patient.

“I guess, given the circumstances, it isn’t a bad thing. If anyone can catch something as horrible as the Drago, it’s Danare. And it NEEDS to be stopped. But I’m worried about how he’ll handle Mary.”

“You think she’ll resist?” Faith asked. She saw the look on Alan’s face and realized the answer to her own question. “He’s the one who baited and trapped her. While Mary recognizes you as a person she can trust, she associates Danare and his posse with danger.”

“You catch on quick,” Alan said. “You’ve got a head on your shoulders. More importantly, you know how to use it. Good thing Roger isn’t sitting in on this conversation. He’d probably try and hire you.”

Faith smirked. “Not sure what use he’d have for me. I’m just a humble construction worker. My time is spent behind the controls of an excavator.”

“You kidding?” Alan said. “You think he doesn’t have projects that require construction? For heaven sake, he’s about to build that exhibit in New York, and there’s talk about building an outpost on the island where the animals came from. Yeah, can really see people lining up for that duty.”

His sarcasm did not have the effect on Faith he expected. Rather than agree with the negative sentiment, she gave the matter a good deal of thought.

“I imagine it pays well,” she remarked.

Alan tilted his head forward, arms crossed. “Y-yeah.”

“Beats getting silenced,” she said. “And how many people would get to say they visited a lost world?”

“Not many… largely because a good percentage of the ones who do go don’t make it back alive.”

“Mmm.” Faith stood up and turned away. She knew he had a point. Hell, only by God’s grace did she survive the Drago. She could hardly imagine a whole ecosystem of equally dangerous organisms. “Yeah, I suppose you have a point.”

She could practically feel Alan’s eyes boring into the back of her head, analyzing her words and forlorn tone. Questions were inevitable.

“That job you’re at, that’s a contracting company. You’re not from around here.”

“Yeah? So what?” she said.

“Jobs like that often pay well. You told me on our way out here you were building a housing community. That’s a big job. Ought to keep you away from home for a good long while.”

Faith found herself growing impatient with the analysis. “Yeah. Again, so what? A lot of jobs are remote. For godsake, your expedition ‘kept you away from home for a good long while’.”

“What I’m getting at is I think you’re more interested in the ‘being away from home’ part more than the pay. You even considered taking a gig at the island, despite the risks involved. Risks you experienced tonight. You don’t strike me as suicidal or hurting for money. And maybe I’m wrong, but I suspect you’re not out to see the world. If I had to make a guess, you don’t want to work for Roger Trill. Come on, you have more character than that. You tried to expose his little operation to the police a little while ago. No, I think you are running from something.” He allowed a few moments of silence to pass by. “Listen, I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“You’re right, it’s not!” She spun to glare at him. Alan raised his hands, expressing a desire for peace. Faith thought of a hundred rebuttals. A thousand. A million.

All lies.

Her expression softened and her eyes went to the ground. No matter how hard she tried to deny it, the truth was always hovering over her like a spirit. Its presence was in every action she made in her day, for Faith wanted to work, work, work, and work more. Not for the money, but to stay occupied, so she didn’t think of WHY she was here.

“And you’re also right,” she continued. “I am running from something. Home, to be a little more precise; home, family, namely my mother and brothers.”

Alan took a seat on the ground next to the eggs. “I’m sorry to hear that. Care to talk about it? Someone hurt you?”

Faith shook her head. “The opposite.” She exhaled sharply. This was the first time she’d spoken of this bleak page of her personal life to anyone. She certainly did not expect to spill the beans to someone who was almost a complete stranger.

I guess nearly getting eaten by dinosaurs has a way of making a gal reflect on things.

“I’m from New Hampshire,” she continued. “A few years ago, I got into college. Majoring in English, was gonna be a teacher, and over time, get my masters and doctorate, then teach college. Year one was nothing but straight A’s. Not just for me, but for some other girls in my dorm. So, at the end of winter semester, we decided to have ourselves a little party before going home for the summer. By party, I mean ‘get fucking wasted’. Unfortunately, it wasn’t just beer and wine we were screwing our brains up with.”

“Drugs?” Alan asked.

“PCP, to be exact. And weed. Friend of a friend brought it in. I’d never tried it before. I was already getting hammered, so I figured ‘what the hell?’”

“Let me guess,” Alan said. “You got caught and expelled.”

“I wish that was the story I was telling,” Faith replied. “No, we did not get caught. At least, not by the faculty or staff. I was discovered at the hospital.”

Alan perked up. “The hospital?”

“Early that morning, I got a call from my brother. Dad had been in a car accident. Hit hard from behind by a large truck. His kidneys were failing and he didn’t have much time unless he got a transplant. As you probably know, organ donations aren’t exactly a plentiful resource. Of all the friends and family in the vicinity, I was the only one who matched his blood type.”

Her voice trailed off.

Alan was able to put the pieces together. “And you were declined as a donor because of the drugs in your system.”

Faith’s fists clenched, her knuckles turning white.

“They disqualified me. Dad died a couple of days later. All because of one stupid night full of stupid decisions. A whole year of pure discipline, and I cap it off by doing that, and my dad is dead as a result.”

“I’m sorry,” Alan said. “I’m very sorry, both for your loss, and for the punishment you’ve dealt yourself.” He moved to sit by her side. “And because of that, you’re on the road, taking jobs that take you farther and farther away from home.”

Faith cleared her throat, surprised at her ability to keep from bursting into tears. “I haven’t been able to bring myself to talk to Mom or my brothers, let alone look them in the eye.”

“Do they blame you?”

“In the beginning, rightfully so,” she said. “But they’ve been calling and texting repeatedly in the past few months. I keep telling them I’m busy. Truth is, I don’t feel like I deserve their forgiveness.”

Alan looked at Mary. “I don’t deserve hers either. I guess, for what it’s worth, we sometimes don’t get to choose what we are worthy or unworthy of.”

Faith admired the beautiful Triceratops. Her presence was a soothing one. In the silence, she absorbed Alan’s words of advice. He did not mean to uproot Mary from her home, but his role in the expedition led to that result, regardless. Maybe Mary knew, maybe she didn’t. Either way, she did not hold him responsible. It would have been the easiest thing in the world for Mary to have an ingrained hatred of humans, but she didn’t.

Such compassion was something the human race could learn from.

Her thoughts were interrupted by an ear-piercing scream from the east.

They both stood up, hearts drumming in their chests. They shared the same panicky glance. Only one thing could terrify a person to such an extent out here.

Faith inched closer to the trike, wincing as another scream came through the trees.

“Oh, my God.”

The Drago was on the hunt.

Chapter 16

Today was a day Jeremy Redford had been looking forward to for weeks. It was the Fourth of July, his favorite day out of the whole year. The Redford family and ranch hands did not waste time and money on fireworks, but instead chose to celebrate the nation’s birthday by sitting around a large bonfire.

Jeremy, the twenty-four-year-old heir to the ranch, had gotten everything set up while his father and other hands wrapped up the evening duties.

Right around the time they were supposed to wrap up, his father’s foreman, Reuben, reported that the horses in the southeast pasture were nowhere to be seen, and that Basil, the hand assigned to them, had not called in.

They went to check it out. Meanwhile, everyone went about their business. Only when it came time to assemble at the bonfire did Jeremy get nervous.

Dad and Reuben hadn’t returned. Furthermore, Dave and Alice never came back from the barn. The horses they were supposed to bring in were acting strange. Panicky. They were crowded on the west side of the property, then all of a sudden, they raced east in unison, disappearing behind a hill down that way.

Only his hands Ajay, Byron, and Owen were accounted for. Mom was out of town visiting his sister for the holiday, and the rest of the staff were also out of town.

Jeremy assembled his work crew and decided to figure out what the hell was going on. They started with the barn, where Dave and Alice should have been bringing in the herd.

As it turned out, they WERE in the barn. All over the barn. Blood and flesh were spread across the concrete aisle like strawberry jam.

Caught up in the shock of what they discovered, they were ignorant to the eyes watching them from the rafters.

Like a bird of prey, it descended. Crescent claws impaled Owen through the shoulder blade, their tips grazing the floor as the beast pinned him to the floor. In a couple of fluid motions with its feet and mouth, it completely, and permanently, altered Owen’s appearance.

Next thing Jeremy knew, he and his friends were running in the same direction as the horses, listening to Owen’s dying wails. After they cleared the hill, they discovered the broken area of fence line, and the remains of his father and Reuben.

Their attempts to make an emergency call to the sheriff’s office failed. It was as though something was blocking their signals. Usually, they had no problem making calls from anywhere on the ranch. But tonight, all three of their devices failed to connect. The rising tension led to useless bickering on what to do. Jeremy suggested using the four-wheeler, while Byron insisted on dislodging Dean Fenneman’s truck and hightailing it into town.

They decided to go their separate ways, utilizing their separate escape strategies. In the end, they proved neither idea was very good.

The four-wheeler’s front left tire was slashed during Mr. Redford’s encounter with the monster. Worse yet, the key was missing, probably in his dad’s pocket. Even now, with his life on the line, it was no easy matter even just to get in the mindset to rummage through his father’s pockets. Not with him mangled the way he had been.

As for Byron, his attempts to get the truck off the fence proved futile. The monster appeared and went for him first. Like the girl in the back seat, his insides erupted onto the inner windshield and windows, his feet twitching out of the open doorway while the thing did its worst.

That did it for Ajay. If Jeremy wasn’t going to look for that key, HE would! He found it within a few short seconds and made a run for the four-wheeler. The engine started up, the vehicle sluggish thanks to the damage sustained from earlier.

“Last chance!” he yelled to Jeremy.

The heir to the ranch snapped out of his trance and joined Ajay, securing a spot on the trailer before the guy accelerated. They passed the truck and continued north in hopes of making it to Bengal Road.

Jeremy could not believe it. He absolutely could not believe it. This HAD to be a nightmare. There was no way what he was experiencing could possibly be real. His dad was dead, his fellow workers, dead. All torn to pieces by a seven-foot reptile. Not just any reptile, but one that was not of this millennium.

He tried to place another call to the sheriff, only for his phone to fail him again. All of his adult life, he had made calls from all over the ranch, rarely experiencing an issue. Now when his life literally depended on it, did the stupid thing fail. Jeremy grew increasingly agitated. It felt as though the phones wanted the thing to catch them.

“No luck, still?” Ajay asked.

“No!” Jeremy shouted. “What the hell, man?! I don’t understand!”

A bump in the road forced him to cling on to the four-wheeler trailer for dear life. He made a couple more attempts to get a call out, then gave up. For the next few moments, he focused on his breathing and controlling the urge to vomit. The turbulence of the flat tire against the dirt road was only making things worse, as was the resulting slower speed of the vehicle.

“We should be at the Bengal Road soon,” Ajay said. “Then we’ll go into Redbud, get the sheriff, and…”

Jeremy wasn’t listening. He was too busy shrieking in fright after seeing the reptilian creature sprinting after them. Its motion was similar to that he had seen of frilled lizards running on television, only this lizard was bigger and faster.

And meaner.

Ajay looked back and gasped. He put the vehicle in third gear and hoped for the best. What he got was the worst. The vehicle hugged the left side, the rubber from the flattened tire coming apart in small black strips.

Baring his teeth, Ajay tried to redirect the four-wheeler to the middle of the road.

By then, the monster had closed the distance. For a split second, it slowed and lowered its upper body, ready to launch itself into the trailer.

Jeremy could only formulate one single thought: Don’t let it get you!

At this point, it was every man for himself. He dove over the side of the trailer. In that same moment, the creature made its leap. It landed on the empty trailer and immediately set its sights on the human operating the controls.

Jeremy rolled to his hands and knees and glanced towards the sounds of Ajay’s screams. The four-wheeler went across the road into the line of trees on the east side, its driver jetting blood from the neck. It managed to speed between two trees and travel out of sight, ultimately crashing somewhere in the woods.

The screaming persisted, the pitch rising and falling based on how the head was being manipulated.

For Jeremy, it was an opportunity to gain some distance. He got to his feet and sprinted. The sight of Bengal Road in the distance sparked a flame of hope. He needed to get away. He could not let himself be torn apart like the others.

The sound of an engine coming from the east took his desperation to new heights. Jeremy waved his hands frantically and yelled.

“HELP! HELP ME!!!”

***

“What the hell’s going on?” Eddie said. He frantically tapped the screen of his so-called smart phone, failing to get an internet connection, and therefore unable to bring up the route to Faith’s house. “Stupid thing’s refusing to work.”

“I thought you said you remembered the way,” Bart snapped.

“Well, I lied,” Eddie said. “I get the roads confused.”

“There’s only one turn we’re supposed to make!” Bart said. “How could you forget?”

“Yeah, one turn, and like six roads in this part of the valley. I don’t live here, you know?! I get them mixed up. And if it’s so simple, why don’t YOU remember?”

“Ah!” Bart waved him off and lit a cigarette. He cracked his window to vent the smoke. He tilted his forehead at a small road up ahead on the left before the bend where the railroad ran parallel with Bengal Road. “It’s not this turn, is it?”

“No,” Eddie said. “Duh! It’s much farther out. Even you should’ve remembered that from last time.”

“Oh, why don’t you take this smoke and stick it up your…” Bart straightened in his seat and slowed the truck down. “You hear that?”

Eddie looked over at his friend and realized he wasn’t setting up some sort of joke. Bart was rolling his window down. The truck slowed to coasting speed as they neared the upcoming road on the left.

“No, I don’t hear anything… wait…” Eddie rolled his own window down and listened. “I think somebody’s shouting. It’s coming from… that way, I think.” He pointed at the nearby road and read its sign, which read Red Cherry Road.

Bart brought the truck to a complete stop at the three-way intersection and rolled his window all the way down. By now, the voice was loud and clear, its source running up the road as though the devil was right behind him.

“HELP ME! OH, DEAR GOD! HELP ME!!!”

The man was a hundred yards or so down the road. He wore jeans and a black shirt, and was in his early-to-mid-twenties. Bart and Eddie shared a nervous glance. Something had the guy scared stiff.

Bart made the turn and took the truck eighty yards down the road, intercepting the man. He put the truck in park and stepped out.

“Woah! Hey man, what’s the matter?”

The guy ran past him and pulled on the back passenger door. “Get back in the truck! We’ve got to go! NOW!”

“Holy shit, man! Could you at least tell us what’s going on?!” Bart said.

“There’s a fucking dinosaur back there!” the man said. “Let’s go! It’ll be here any second!”

Bart and Eddie shared another glance, this time reflecting each other’s bemusement. No way could this be real. This guy had probably gotten a little carried away with his Fourth of July celebrations.

“Holy shit, man!” Eddie laughed. “They must smoke some of the REALLY good stuff on the farm!”

Bart broke out in laughter. He bared his teeth and made clawing motions with his hands. “Did it look like this?” He leaned forward and stomped like a T-rex. “Roooooaaaarrr!”

Eddie was spitting droplets of beer by now. “You had us going for a sec, dude! Should have gone with mountain lion, or a guy in a hockey mask with a machete. Anything but a dinosaur!”

“I’m dead serious!” the man said.

“Depending on whatever it is you smoked, I’m sure you are,” Bart replied. “Just take a seat back there, and we’ll drive you back to wherever it was you – HEY!!!”

The man pushed him aside with a force one would not expect from a five-foot-eight, hundred-sixty-pound fella. Bart twisted to his left, barely catching his balance while the terrified farmer climbed into the driver’s seat.

“The hell’s wrong with you?!” Eddie shouted.

The guy put the truck in reverse and floored the accelerator, speeding them up the road and leaving Bart jogging after them.

“Get back here, you little prick!”

Eddie threw his heavy mass over the center console and grabbed the wheel. “You crazy punk! Stop the truck!” The guy kept both hands on the wheel, refusing to relinquish control. Eddie secured a grasp on it and pulled as hard as he could. “STOP!!!”

The guy yelled, the wheel cutting to the right. The truck zipped off the side of the road, scraping the side of a tree before coming to a sudden stop with a loud BAM!

Eddie’s forehead hit the dashboard. The truck was on a downward angle, the rear propped up on the trunk of a fallen tree. The guy in the driver’s seat tried restarting the engine after it had stalled, achieving little more than a few whirs.

“Oh, no! Oh, no!”

Eddie grabbed him by his shirt collar. “Oh, no is right, you stupid fuck!” He leaned towards the open window and sniffed, detecting the odor of gas. “Oh, you’ve really done it!” He looked through the windshield at the oncoming Bart. The three-hundred-pound general laborer hobbled into the woods and spewed a flurry of curse words after seeing the wreck.

Eddie sat up and tightened his grip on the guy.

“Yeah, you’ve REALLY done it now, you little shit. What’s your name, boy?!”

“Listen! We can’t stay here…”

Eddie hit him square in the nose. “That’s me being polite. Now, out with the name!”

“Jeremy. I’m serious, man. There’s a dinosaur out there.”

Eddie punched him again. “Again with the dinosaur bullshit. Well, JEREMY, you’ll be begging for a dinosaur to come eat your sorry ass before Bart and I are through with you. Isn’t that right, Bart?!”

“AAAAGH!!!”

Eddie let go of Jeremy and let out a croaking gasp after witnessing the predator tackling his friend from behind. Backpedaling on its two feet, it pulled Bart away from the truck. Claws and teeth dug into his quads and hamstring, preventing him from scampering away, no matter how hard he tried.

And there was no shortage of effort. Bart’s fingers dug into the soil, leaving narrow grooves as the beast dragged him towards better killing grounds with less undergrowth.

Satisfied with a spot, it flipped him over. Bart, flailing all four limbs like a deep-sea kraken, caught the beast on the chin with his heel. It cocked its head back, shook its jaw, then screeched with anger.

Its retaliation began with a bite between the legs.

Bart hollered, his big belly shielding any view of his castration. Not until it momentarily lifted its head with the contents between its teeth.

It bit again, securing a hold on the middle of Bart’s stomach. His friend watched in horror from the truck, hands pressed to his ears while he watched the shirt rip and the flaccid, hairy midsection stretch like rubber, only to finally split and spill everything it contained. With his middle now a bowl of raw flesh for the taking, Bart gargled and threw his limbs out in a starfish pose.

Eddie and Jeremy spilled out of the cab and raced into the woods, the former crying, “Don’t let it get me! Don’t let it get me!”

He kept pace with the much skinnier Jeremy. Though twice as heavy, he was not winded by a long chase preceding their meeting, nor was his breathing hampered by a broken nose.

The sounds of suffering behind them ceased. Instead of silence, he heard a new noise. A WORSE noise. One that alerted Eddie of his imminent doom. Heavy footsteps pounded the ground behind them like machine-gun fire. Dissatisfied with only killing one of them, the big lizard was on their tail and closing in fast.

It was every man for himself. Eddie shifted to his left, knocking Jeremy off balance. The young local stumbled to the side and smacked dead-on into a tree. He went into a chaotic spin, then hit the ground. His senses returned at the worst possible time. Had he remained dazed, he may have died without knowing what it felt like to have his liver forcefully removed from his abdominal cavity.

Eddie kept moving west, all while attempting to shield his consciousness from the pain and suffering behind him. That Jeremy guy was a dead man walking anyway, regardless if he hadn’t encountered Eddie and Bart. Furthermore, Eddie would not be in this mess if not for that guy getting their attention and wrecking their truck. He was more than happy to leave Bart to be killed by the thing, so, “Yeah, fuck Jeremy!”

For now, he had to focus on his own survival. He cursed the antics that had led him and Bart out here. All they had to do was take a seat and wait for Bradley’s fireworks show. But no, they had to come up with an agenda to annoy Faith. As a result, Eddie was now running through the middle of nowhere with a damn dinosaur on the loose.

Already, he was getting winded. Not designed for prolonged cardio, Eddie’s body was quickly giving in to fatigue. The will to live could only get him so far.

Unable to take the burning in his lungs any longer, he came to a stop. Sweating profusely, he staggered on, propping himself against any tree along his way.

His left palm grazed the edges of a small crater in one of the trunks. Eddie took a glance at it, quickly identifying the mark as a rifle shot. It was almost a year old; the little wound covered in termites. Eddie nearly went on, only stopping to look at it again after noticing an interesting little detail. The bullet had struck on a downward angle.

It was not out of the realm of possibility that these woods could be a good place for deer hunting. With the valley getting so few visitors on average, the residents probably treated these public woods as if it was their own private property. People with such mindsets had no issue with setting up their own little hunting blinds.

In this case, it was an elevated platform stand.

He could see it on his three-o’clock. The eight-by-eight box stood sixteen feet high on four metal legs. Between the rear legs was a metal ladder which went straight into the box.

It was as good a place to hide as any. Eddie weighed the odds in his mind. Running would not get him much farther. He was on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion as it was. The ladder, being so narrow, would be difficult for the creature to scale.

It’s perfect. All I need to do is get my ass up there and I’ll at least have a fighting chance.

Had he thought of this ten seconds ago, there may have been some truth to that hypothesis. Alas, he would never get to test it. Having spent too much time resting, he was easy pickings for the creature.

All three hundred pounds of him were yanked off his feet as though he was light as a feather. Eddie hit the ground, his feet kicking like the legs of an upside-down horseshoe crab dying in the sun. The beast clamped its jaws shut on one of his feet, punching its teeth through the boot into his meat.

Eddie felt the crunch of bone and the jolt from the separation of his foot from his shin. The dinosaur jerked its head like a bird, the appendage pinched between its teeth.

Eddie, digging his fingers into the soil, lost all sense of cognitive function. He gave in to the terror and screamed.

Chapter 17

In the moments following the first screams, Faith and Alan found themselves caught in a tug-of-war between their own self-preservation and the compassion for the unsuspecting victims in the distance. Before long, other voices joined the chaos, culminating in a crashing noise which Faith easily recognized as a vehicular wreck.

The sounds of panic and movement drew nearer, the chase taking the victims somewhere to Faith’s ten o-clock.

Alan could not take it anymore. He snatched his tranquilizer pistol and the case, which contained the spare darts. His fidgety handling of the weapon further solidified Faith’s suspicion that he was not a firearm enthusiast. Jittery nerves failed to stop him, however.

“Stay here. I have to go help them.”

“No way,” Faith said. “You’ll be killed.”

“If anyone has it coming, it’s me,” Alan said. “I helped bring them here. Just because I objected to Roger Trill’s decisions doesn’t mean I was not compliant. Too many people have died as a result of my failure. Maybe I deserve to be next. But maybe, more importantly, I can stop the thing before it kills anyone else.”

It was a state of mind Faith was all too familiar with. Guilt, feelings of self-punishment, the endless mental turmoil stemming from a desire to go back in time and do things differently. But such a thing was not possible, leaving the person feeling trapped.

“Don’t go,” she protested.

“I have to,” he said. “Stay here with Mary. You’ll be safe. I’m gonna try and save that guy.”

Without wasting another word, he dashed into action.

Faith stood at the edge of the nest, watching the scientist vanish behind the maze of trees. It wasn’t right. As horrifying as the Drago was, as traumatizing as her encounters with it were, and as desperate as she was to never see it again, Faith could not in good conscience let Alan go alone. How she would help, she had no idea, but staying here in the safety of the nest while he ran into danger felt inhumane. She had been wrestling with the guilt of one death for years now, and did not want another one on her conscience.

The choice was made. Faith sprinted into the woods, following the sounds of movement made by Alan. Beyond him was a chorus of tussling noises and cries of agony. It grew louder as she neared the source.

After a few hundred yards, she stopped in her tracks.

The Drago was a hundred feet ahead of her, leaning over its most recent kill. A bloodstained yellow vest, brown boots, and four-day beard were the only remaining recognizable features of Eddie the prankster.

For whatever reason, the guy had come to this side of the valley, only to get ambushed. If he was out here, so was Bart. He was nowhere to be seen, leading Faith to conclude he was lying dead somewhere else.

Alan dropped his gun case, gripped his pistol with both hands, and tried his best to steady his shaky aim.

The Drago, only ten yards from him, reared back on its hind legs, claws and teeth dripping rivers of blood. It roared at the nervous paleontologist and initiated its attack.

Alan, yelling incoherently, squeezed the trigger.

The Drago suddenly stopped with a yelp. It staggered to its left and clawed at its neck, dislodging the stinging dart.

Faith heard him exclaim “Shit!” He had hit the beast, only for the delivery system for the sedative to be almost instantly removed. Faith held her breath and waited for the inevitable retaliation.

The Drago spun in a slow circle and brushed its claw over the tiny wound in its neck. Its sluggish movements brought Faith back to her first girls’ night out at the bar years ago, and how she felt after two drinks on an empty stomach. There was still some degree of control over its senses, equivalent to being tipsy as opposed to blackout drunk.

Alan dropped to his knees and opened the case. He grabbed another dart and pulled the bolt back to load it.

The Drago expressed its anger with a deafening roar. With arms outstretched, it charged at Alan.

“Oh, Jes-”

He dropped the pistol and ran to the north. The Drago zipped past him, slipping on the ground in its attempt to turn around. The partial dosage may not have incapacitated the reptilian completely, but was successful in slowing it down and hindering its coordination.

Faith moved to a large tree, shielding herself from the Drago’s line of sight while she monitored the situation. To the north, a hundred feet or so past Alan was a tall box structure. A hunting blind! Eddie must have been making a go for it before the Drago caught up with him.

“Alan!” she shouted. He turned to look at her, his face a mix of shock and anger after learning she had followed him out here. He then looked to where she was pointing, saw the blind, and swiftly did away with the anger in favor of reprieve.

He arrived at the ladder and ascended into the large box fifteen feet above him. The Drago was back on its feet, annoyed with the strange issue plaguing its balance. Unwilling to let another slaying go to waste, it ran to the ladder.

“Holy – Get away, you fucker!”

Alan pulled himself into the box and shut the door. The Drago clawed at the narrow ladder in an attempt to figure out the technique to lift itself into the artificial enclosure above. It planted its feet on the bottom bar and began to climb.

Alan, feeling the shifting in the platform’s weight, peeked down. The creature’s ascent was slow and clumsy, but it was steadily closing in.

“Oh, hell…”

“Alan!” Faith shouted. “The ladder! Detach the ladder!”

He knelt by the screws where the ladder connected with the edge of the platform. Digging his Swiss Army knife out of his pocket, he got to work.

The Drago made it halfway up, its head jerking after one of the falling screws bounced off its nose. It increased its pace, gradually coming in reach of the top bars.

“Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit!!!”

Alan worked on the last screw, the treads resisting his efforts to twist it out. Fed up, he switched to the knife’s pliers and gave the screw a hard tug.

The Drago’s head rose over the top bar and bared its jaws at him.

“SHIT!!!”

Alan tugged one last time. The screw popped free. The Drago’s snarling came to a stop after it realized it was falling away from its victim. It hit the ground with a piercing shriek, kicked the ladder off its body, and rolled to its feet. It circled the platform, searching for another way to get to the human up top.

Alan clung to the guardrail where the ladder attached to the box, holding a middle finger to the beast. “Nice try, you piece of shit!”

The Drago stopped and put its snout to one of the other metal legs. A new strategy came to mind. It backed up, giving itself a few yards of distance, then charged the post as hard as it could.

Alan dropped to his knees, grabbing the rail to keep himself from falling while the platform rocked violently. The Drago body slammed it a second time, then a third and a fourth. Each hit shifted the platform with increased intensity. Alan, knowing collapse was imminent, entered the blind and shut the door.

The Drago rammed the leg again, indenting it and weakening the integrity of the platform. After one final body slam, the platform fell to its weak side, the box coming apart as it impacted the ground.

Faith watched in horror as the sluggish Drago approached the pieces of plywood. The top panel lifted and fell, the occupant underneath scrambling to free himself.

There was no escape this time. There was nowhere for Alan to run to. Furthermore, he was probably dazed from the fall, if not severely injured. His survival depended solely on her.

She looked to the dropped dart pistol. She had never fired one of them before. Hell, it had been forever since she shot a gun at all. Her main experience was with a twenty-two. There was a wave of angst, which Faith fought to suppress. Indecision would only guarantee Alan’s death.

She ran to the pistol. The bolt was already back, the dart lying beside it. She had seen the way Alan had loaded it before. Slip the dart in and ram the bolt into place. Not too complicated.

Faith loaded the gun and held it forward. Though she was no professional marksman, the fundamentals of shooting were clear: front sight, rear sight, put the target in the middle.

She placed the Drago’s neck in the middle, took a breath, and squeezed the trigger.

Right as she did, the Drago cocked its head back. The dart whizzed by, scraping the tip of its snout. Shocked by the unexpected sensation, the creature hopped backward, looking at the bush where the dart eventually struck, then turned its head toward the source.

Faith lowered the pistol. “Oh, fuck.”

She had successfully kept it from killing Alan. The problem was that its attention was now on her. Grabbing another dart and firing a second shot was out of the question. Faith threw the gun at the beast and ran eastward, praying the Drago was still sluggish from the partial dose still flowing through its veins.

Running past the first block of trees, she soon came across another body. This one, she did not recognize. It was a local, probably a rancher. She could only speculate from the boots and belt buckle. Everything else was a complete mess.

The Drago barked, having collided with some thorny bushes behind her. Its exertion added to its haziness, giving Faith a slight advantage. She cursed herself for going in this direction, instead of back to the trike’s nest. It was a split-second decision with no thought given to it. It was too late to turn around now. She needed to keep going and hope for a miracle.

After what felt like a hundred miles, she came across that miracle. Propped up against a tree was Bart’s truck. As she closed in, her hopes dwindled. There was an intense smell of gas, meaning the truck would probably not get far even if she somehow managed to get it off the rotten trunk.

Completely winded and hearing the Drago getting nearer, she threw herself into the back seat and closed the door.

A moment later, the Drago’s face was pressed to the glass.

Faith could not believe it. For the second time today, she was in the exact same predicament. And just like last time, the Drago was quick to smash the glass. Except it did not stop there. It rammed the entire door. Even after the window was shattered, it continued bashing the door, gradually folding it in and weakening its structure.

Leaning against the opposite side, Faith descended into a fit of whimpering. The Drago had learned from last time, and was literally removing the door. Her only choices were to stay here and die, or make a run for it, gain maybe a few yards, and die anyway. She chose to go with the latter, if for no other reason than it guaranteed her a few more seconds of life.

She swung herself around and gripped the door handle. Something between the floor and her heel made her look down.

Now she knew why Bart and Eddie were coming out here. The two jerks were planning on pranking her with fireworks. She dug her lighter out of her pocket and lit the fuse of a cone fountain, then placed it on the right passenger seat.

The Drago ripped the door off the truck. It inhaled deeply to recover from the exertion, keeping its eyes fixed on the prize. Ready to finally put an end to this troublesome woman, it moved in.

The fountain erupted with a flashy display of colorful sparks and shrieking noises. Clouds of smoke filled the vehicle, drying the eyes and mouths of both predator and prey. In spite of the suffocating fumes, Faith remained in place and grabbed another fountain off the floor.

As that second one began firing off, she picked up a Roman candle, lit its fuse and pointed it at the frenzied shape on the other side of the smoke cloud. Sparkling projectiles struck the Drago’s neck, each one driving it back a few steps. By the eighth and final shot, the Drago stood twenty feet away.

The fountain completed its display, the smoke twisting out through the open door. Through the gray haze, she saw the large reptilian staring back at her. Its shoulders rose and fell, stale air passing in and out of its nostrils.

Faith could barely move. A crazed raptor was terrifying enough. Now she was face-to-face with one that was genuinely pissed off beyond measure.

It strutted in her direction.

Giving up was not part of its nature. Only in the presence of a larger beast would the Drago think twice before an attack. Or, as Faith would soon learn, when faced with another grave threat.

It stopped.

Faith held her breath, both in anticipation and because of the smoke. A flare of orange fire lifted her from her immobility. The fire quickly climbed higher and higher, spreading underneath the truck.

It dawned on her: the leaking gas. The sparks from the fireworks had ignited it.

With a half-tank just above that raging fire, Faith had seconds to vacate before she was literally toast. She opened the door and took off running.

Hearing her motions, the Drago worked its way around the front of the truck. It snarled, leaned forward, and initiated its pursuit.

BOOM!

The gas tank ignited, the blast tossing the lizard onto its side.

Faith turned around. The truck was entirely ablaze now, the flames spreading to a nearby tree. In front of the glow was the Drago’s slashing tail and legs. Hissing like a snake, it fought against the sluggishness of physical shock. Even now, with drugs in its bloodstream and its bell rung by a literal explosion, it was hellbent on killing Faith.

“Aw, come on!” she spat.

Her lungs burning, nose and mouth dry, and muscles aching, she stumbled for the road. She emerged on the dirt trail, completely spent, managing to get to the other side before collapsing. She turned herself around and rested against the base of a tree near the opposite side of the road, watching the huge tower of smoke climb into the twilight sky.

The flames grew steadily larger, their might spreading to more trees. After a couple of minutes, she could see the glow from the epicenter. Before long, the valley would be engulfed in a full-on forest fire.

A familiar and terrible shape emerged in front of that glow. Tired, frustrated, and singed, the Drago stepped onto the road. Its jaw hung open, its breathing reduced to a pitiful wheeze.

Hooked claws tapped the ground with each step. The arms were coiled, the tail drooped behind its legs. The flesh on its right hip and belly was raw from fire burns, its face blackened by smoke.

And yet, it was still determined to rip into Faith.

Huffing and puffing, she resorted to anger. She pounded her fists to the side, then smacked her chest.

“You wanna eat me?! Well, come on, then! Bring it! I’m right here! What are you waiting for? Choke on me!”

Ready to accept the challenge, it growled.

A white spotlight fell over the lizard, its growl drowned out by the droning of helicopter blades. Human and dinosaur looked to the sky and winced as the blinding stream of light swept over them.

It was some sort of military-style helicopter, equipped with a door gun and everything. Harnessed at the open fuselage was a man in black tactical gear.

“I got a visual on the Drago. Hold position here. It’s out in the open.” His voice was faint because of the rotors, but it was enough for Faith to know what was going on. These were the men Alan had told her about. Leading the charge was a mercenary hunter type, whom Faith suspected was this guy in the doorway. Danare.

He extended a military-style rifle at the Drago and put his eye to the scope.

The beast, either recognizing the weapon or the person, bellowed in spite. Its energy returned in the blink of an eye. It waved its tail and raked its feet over the ground, winding up for an opportunity to throw itself at the chopper.

Instead, it reeled backward. Three darts protruded from its chest. The predator ended up on its side, coughing and wheezing, the drugs quickly taking effect.

The helicopter aligned itself with the road and carefully set down. Like a SWAT team racing to an active shooter situation, a team of seven men took to the road and swarmed the groaning beast. Its feet waved, the groggy dinosaur still desiring to disembowel the leader.

“Lights out, chump.”

He hit it with one more dart. The Drago-raptor was out cold.

The leader turned around, finger pressed to his microphone. “Target neutralized. Bring in the truck.”

“Copy that,” someone replied.

The man turned his eyes to Faith. His finger went back to the microphone.

“Let Mr. Trill know he’s going to have a guest at base camp.” He lowered his hand and approached her. He extended his hand to help her up. “You look like you could use a shot of whiskey.”

Faith was lifted to her feet, and watched while the guy lit a Camacho Scorpion cigar.

“I’ll settle for a cigarette if you’ve got one.”

Chapter 18

She was on her second smoke in a row. The first was to wind down from the recent encounter with the Drago. The second was lit after Danare’s men brought her to their base camp, which happened to be the train. There, she witnessed two helicopters set down north of the tracks and unload several personnel. A few of the people wore scrubs, like hospital nurses, or more specifically, vet techs. Others were more casually dressed. All of them were under the employment of Roger Trill. Following the instructions of Danare, the two helicopters lifted off and disappeared somewhere to the northeast. Evidently, it was easier to conduct a massive cover-up without multiple aircraft suspiciously in the area.

Faith’s third smoke ignited after her moment of rest was interrupted by the blaring horns of two approaching semi-trucks.

Each one towed a fifty-foot container, equally sufficient for delivering a boatload of supplies, and transporting a twelve-ton dinosaur. An SUV traveled behind them. It pulled off to the side as the two semi-trucks parked near the rear box car.

Danare, still chomping on his cigar, rushed over to the trucks, his eyes blazing at the drivers.

“You dumb shits don’t listen well, do ya?! We told you to pull up QUIETLY! Not blare your horns. You trying to wake the thing up?!” He pointed his elbow to the second-to-last box car.

The first driver stepped out and sized Danare up. “Don’t speak to me this way, man. I report to Mr. Trill. I don’t work for you. You’re just a contractor. We…”

An uppercut to the jaw put the man on his ass. The other driver stopped and put his hands up. Having witnessed the taking-down of his fellow driver, his attitude quickly went from badass tough guy to ‘no trouble, mister’.

“Apologies. We just wanted to make sure the boss knew we had arrived. He was worried we would not get here in time. We had to drive these trucks all the way from Averton, you know? Even going twenty miles over the limit, it was unclear how soon we’d make it.”

“Moron, we would’ve seen the two big trucks pulling up. You know how I know that? Because we did!” Danare turned and walked away, tilting his mouthpiece closer to his lips. “We’re almost out of sunlight. Where in the hell is the Drago? Tell the doc he can do his little check-up here at base camp.”

“On our way over to you now, sir,” the chopper pilot replied.

Faith turned her eyes to the sky and witnessed the big black military-style helicopter Danare had arrived in appear over the woods. Dangling from underneath it was the Drago, secured on a large stretcher. The chopper passed overhead and went to the field on the other side of the train, where a group of Roger’s men awaited the arrival of the precious cargo. It was gently lowered to the ground and liberated from the tethers. The chopper moved farther into the field and set down.

The Drago was bound with cuffs on its hands and legs, like high-tech leg irons for felons. Clamped over its mouth was a large muzzle made from similar material. The animal itself was still unconscious; a meager comfort, as far as Faith was concerned. Some of Danare’s henchmen held a similar sentiment. They stood guard, weapons trained on the dinosaur while Mr. Trill’s men tended to it.

A jeep rolled up from the east, carrying Alan from the site of the Drago’s capture. Before the vehicle came to a stop, he was opening his door to storm out.

“Hey!” He marched to Drinker’s box car, where two men in khaki pants and red shirts stood. They held medical supplies in their hands and had the door propped open. “The hell are you idiots doing in there? Trying to wake him up?!”

“Mr. Trill’s doctors suggested we use benzodiazepines for his sedation. His understanding is that was the sedative used during the fourteen-hour surgery back at the island.”

“Call the jackass back and tell him he’s an idiot!” Alan replied.

Benzodiazepines were used on a Spenacodon we were trying to save. A completely different species from the Rex with a completely different biology. Benzodiazepines have a higher risk of triggering a violent reaction from the big one. Trust me, we found out the hard way. It reduces 5HT neurotransmission, and the Rex is aggressive enough as is.”

“It’s been recorded to be more effective than ketamine,” one of the vet techs said.

“Only because I was not allowed to start an IV drip. Their systems are highly resistant to most drugs,” Alan said. “Furthermore, the Rex’s metabolism burns right through that shit. If for any reason it stops receiving a constant dose, Drinker will wake up within a couple of minutes at most. And it won’t be good. You really want to risk that?”

The vet tech shrugged. Having already switched the medication, he considered his work to be done.

“Sorry. Doctor’s orders.”

“Doctor. A moron who hadn’t even set foot on that island.” Alan exhaled through gritted teeth. “Yeah, call him back and tell him what a moron he is. And tell Roger he’s an even bigger moron for listening to his advice.”

“You can tell me yourself, Mr. Neil.”

Alan turned to the sound of Roger Trill’s voice. The business tycoon strutted from the second train car, his tie undone and dangling from both sides of his neck. He was younger than what Faith expected to see. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, the collar repeatedly stretched by his hand. Either he was unused to the southern heat – odd, considering he had been to a tropical island – or he was overwhelmingly stressed.

Faith remained seated. She was nothing more than a mere spectator to the upcoming verbal clash.

“I sure will,” Alan said to Roger. “I told you this whole operation was a mistake. Bringing these animals to the mainland, transporting them by train, not allowing proper time to understand their medical histories…”

“And yet, you still went along with it, Doctor,” Roger said.

“Right. I did. Not that it would have made much difference,” Alan said. “Especially considering the advice these dipshits are following. Hell, if I wasn’t in charge, things would be even worse, if you can believe that! You give the wrong medication to Drinker, and he could have been running loose in San Fransisco. Imagine how that would have played out. You see how bad things got here, and this is the fucking middle of nowhere. Had I not been in charge, he’d be on the loose in a populated city.”

Roger shook his head dismissively. “Sounds to me like you’re only concerned about covering your own ass. After all, the animals escaped under your watch.”

And there it was. Alan knew there was no point in continuing the argument. What was the point? Roger had what he wanted: a fall guy. It did not make a difference he objected to the methods used by the crew. Alan Neil was present at the time of the accident, and was the man in charge of the dinosaurs. Nothing else mattered as far as Roger Trill was concerned.

“Yeah? How will you explain the fatalities?” Alan asked. “The Drago went on a killing spree. That’s a lot of deaths to cover up, and given the nature of their injuries, I don’t think you will be able to get away with some story of a mass shooter or crazed serial killer. Even a pack of rabid wolves or mountain lions would not cause this much mayhem in such a short span of time.”

Roger looked to Danare. “Is the fire under control?”

The mercenary nodded. “We’ve got it limited to a small burn until we’re all set. The crews are tracking the Drago’s path and collecting its victims.”

Now Faith felt the need to interject. “Hold on. Your master plan is to hide the bodies and hope nobody asks too many questions? What, were you just gonna blame the mass disappearances on alien abductions, or something?”

“Who said they were going to disappear?” Roger replied.

Faith reflected on his recent question to Danare about the status of the forest fire. She sucked in a breath after connecting the dots.

“You’re insane! You would burn this whole area down just to cover up your treachery? You really think people won’t ask questions?”

Roger smiled. “There’s no avoiding the influx of questions. It’s not a problem, so long as we have our answer. It’s the Fourth of July. A hazardous holiday where people literally play with fire. In this case, a pair of careless construction workers decided to drive out here and fool around with fireworks. They had an accident, set the place ablaze, attracting the attention of several well-meaning locals, who sadly perished in their attempts to extinguish it. A tragedy to be sure; one bound to make state-wide, even national news. Some people may raise questions, sure, but it will be plausible enough to cover our bases.” He looked Faith in the eye. “Especially if a witness provides a testimony of how she saw the fire and attempted to make a phone call, only for crappy service to prevent her from getting help. With no other choice, she had to drive into Redbud and personally get the sheriff out here. By then, the bodies were completely lost in the fire, the flesh burning off their bones.”

Faith felt sick. The guy spouted that hypothetical as though narrating the audio for some second-rate horror novel. But no; here he was, standing before her, revealing his method of keeping his enterprise a secret, with zero compassion for the lives lost as a direct result of his hubris. On top of that, there was the implication of bribing Faith, just as Alan said he would.

“Is your cell phone and satellite disruptor in place?” Roger asked Danare.

The mercenary leader wrinkled his nose, tempted to reply with a snarky remark. He settled with, “For the third time, yes. Won’t affect radio transmissions, but anyone who tries to make a cell phone call from this area will get nothing.”

“Perfect,” Roger said.

“We can keep the fire under control for the time being,” Danare continued. “But we’re almost out of light. We need to handle the trike right now.”

“Sounds good,” Roger said. “Do what needs to be done.”

There was no chance for Faith to respond. The guy walked away to strategize with Danare, simply assuming she was perfectly fine with going along with his bullshit narrative.

Alan ran after them, his pace quickening after he saw the high-powered rifle in the merc’s hands.

“The hell you planning on doing?”

Danare loaded a magazine into the weapon. “You said to one of my guys after they found you that the trike gave birth. You and I both know what that means. We won’t be able to coax her into the trailer. Not with those eggs by her side. Fortunately, those eggs mean we don’t need her any more. Give it time, and Mr. Trill will have three little trikes born into captivity. Probably will be easier to manage, too.”

“Wait, you’re gonna SHOOT her?!”

“Time’s not on our side, Doc,” Danare said. “We can’t jerk around and hope she’ll wander out. Even if we knocked her out, we don’t have a way of getting her out of there.”

“You’d have that same problem anyway if she’s dead,” Alan replied.

Danare tilted his head and cracked a sly, sardonic smile. “Well…”

Alan looked in the direction the merc’s eyes glimpsed. Near one of the Range Rovers were a trio of Roger’s staff, fueling up several chainsaws.

“You will not!”

“Easier than hauling her big ass out all at once,” Danare said. “Look on the bright side: at least Drinker will be well fed for the next couple of weeks.”

Alan took a step towards him, ready to knock his lights out, but was wise enough to know the opposite would be achieved.

He looked over at Roger. “You cannot possibly be okay with this.”

Roger dabbed his sweaty forehead with a cloth. “I’m sorry, Doctor. But you wrote in your report how they’re mainly aggressive when they feel there’s a threat to their young. I don’t see any other way. I assure you, Danare and his men will make it as quick and painless as possible.”

“Right, I’m sure you guys are very distraught,” Alan said. He gave Danare a bitter glance. “Especially you. It’s totally not like you’ve been itching to add her horns to your trophy collection.”

Danare rested his gun over his shoulder. “Breaks my heart.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Neil,” Roger said. “Danare, get to it. We need to wrap this up.”

Danare marched to one of the trucks that rode in with the semis. “Saddle up, boys!”

Alan went after him. “There’s another way!”

Danare looked at Roger, and then at him. “Yeah? What? Triceratops treats? Dinosaur version of dog biscuits?”

Alan sighed. He hated participating in Mary’s recapture, especially the devious method he had in mind. But there was no other choice.

“We set up a diversion.”

“How?” Roger asked.

“We use the Dimetrodon,” Alan explained. “Use a four-wheeler and trailer. Haul it to the nest. Mary will be revved up, thinking he’s there to snack on her eggs. While her attention is on him, Danare and his men can sneak up from behind, grab the eggs, then high-tail it to the road. Load the eggs into the trailer and Mary will go right in.”

The men stood in silence, contemplating this interesting tactic.

“What do you think, Danare?” Roger asked.

The merc patted the barrel of his gun as though to comfort it. “I suppose there’s always another day to add some horns to my collection. Can’t deny, this idea sounds more fun.”

“We can use the motorcycles,” one of his men said.

“Sounds good,” Danare said. “You’re on the four-wheeler, Doc. You get to be in charge of the bait. Hopefully he gets along with ya.”

Chapter 19

Faith stood near the ATV while Dr. Alan Neil hooked up a large trailer. Lamp posts were erected around the train as the sun initiated its final plunge into the horizon. Three more ATVs with trailers, a few motorcycles, and several pounds of bait were unloaded from the second semi-truck container, in addition to various other supplies.

It was clear the container served a dual purpose in this operation: firstly, it shipped the smaller vehicles and equipment for the recapture of the escaped assets. Secondly, according to what Faith overheard from some of the chatter, it would be used to collect the dead steer and ship them off to God-knows-where. A few dead animals in the valley could be chalked up to mountain lions, wolves, or just bad luck. Whole herds, however, would get people asking questions.

She wasn’t sure what their cover story would be. Maybe they would forge some paperwork suggesting the rancher had sold off all of his livestock. It would be a bit of a stretch, but it was an independent ranch in the middle of nowhere. The world at large, sadly, would hardly notice. Those who did would not care to look further into it.

The team was wasting no time prepping to execute Alan’s plan. Danare stood with two of his mercenaries by the bikes: a ratty-looking guy referred to as Reed, and a short but agile merc named Andres. They were the chosen ones assigned to helping Danare snatch Mary’s eggs and lure her to the first container.

Roger Trill stood by them, reiterating the importance of the assets for the hundredth time. Danare and the other two were rolling their eyes at this point. They had all been on the island and had partaken in the initial capture efforts. During that time, they endured countless reminders by the nervous businessmen of the importance of successfully transporting the animals to the mainland and keeping them in good health in the process.

One would think the guy was curing cancer, judging by the passion in his voice. But no, the importance stemmed from nothing other than the pursuit of wealth. Faith had no issue with rich and successful people – she certainly would not refuse a few million bucks – but when it came at the cost of ethics and human lives, there was more than enough room for criticism. The idiot was already rich, but was caught up in an endless pursuit of more wealth. And it was not due to personal ambition. He did not want to bring the dinosaurs to the United States out of a grand desire to somehow enrich people’s lives and further the study of science. No, he only thought of the cashflow.

Red and blue flashing lights caught Faith’s eye. A pair of police Interceptors pulled up near the rear box car. On their bumpers were the words State Police.

Faith looked to Roger Trill, expecting to witness a frenzied reaction to the appearance of two law enforcement officers. On the contrary, Roger offered them a friendly wave and then approached. Two troopers emerged from the vehicles and casually looked at the wrecked box car. They were both muscular men, each with sunglasses sticking out of their shirt pockets.

Their gazes went from the box car to the team of vet techs and mercenaries near a lamp post. In the middle of the small group was the unconscious Drago-raptor. An IV drip was inserted to keep it hydrated and to prevent any electrolyte imbalances.

“Goddamn, Roger,” the first trooper said. On his name tag was the initial M and the last name O’Connor. “You’ve really made a hell of a mess, haven’t you?”

“It’ll be cleaned up shortly,” Roger replied. “I’ll have my people working all night on it. All I need from you two are roadblocks and whatever else you need to do to keep eyes off this area while we get everything straightened out.”

“It’s a hell of a cover-up,” the second trooper, Tally, said.

“Yeah?” Roger said. “I have a feeling you are no stranger to cover-ups. I mean, gosh, how convenient was it for you that your ex-wife was T-boned by a garbage truck? Wasn’t she guaranteed half your income and your pension?” He whistled. “Dodged a bullet there, didn’t you?”

O’Connor smirked. “How long do you want us to wait before calling the fire department?”

“Gotta let the flames spread far and wide first,” Roger said. “Does anyone know you’re out here?”

“The station has us logged at a ‘construction site’ thirteen miles north of here. Gotta keep an eye on all that expensive equipment,” Trooper Tally said.

Roger nodded.

Faith read between the lines. Roger owned that equipment. The guy truly did have his fingers in many enterprises, including construction. She would not be surprised if he tried to buy all of Mosser just to ensure everyone there stayed quiet. Or just to eradicate the competition.

Roger turned around and started walking back to where Danare was standing. “Well, get to it, then. We’ll be in touch.”

The troopers returned to their vehicles and drove off in separate directions, preventing any traffic from entering the area while the deed was in motion.

“Are we all set?” Danare said to Alan.

The scientist had unpacked some fish from a cooler and was on his way to Sal and Cal’s box car.

“I’m loading him up right now.” He stopped after seeing Faith at the ATV. “You might want to get away from there. We will be using that to piss off a mommy Triceratops. You might not want to be there for that.”

“No, I’m going with you,” she replied.

“Faith, it’s gonna be dangerous.”

“Exactly,” she said. “You’re going to be busy keeping an eye on the Dimetrodon and making sure he stays in the trailer. You’ll need someone to drive the ATV. Someone you can trust.”

Alan clenched his jaw and conceded defeat. “Alright, but grab a black hooded sweatshirt and a vest out of the second box car.”

“Okay. Mind if I ask why?” she said.

“Because if Mary recognizes me during this stupid little stunt, she will never trust me again. If she recognizes you as part of an effort to steal her eggs, she also might not trust me. She’s seen us together in clear harmony. If she sees you, she might associate you with me, which’ll lead to the same bad result of her not letting me anywhere near her ever again.”

“Fair enough.”

Faith hustled to the passenger car. There, she found a duffle bag with dark hoodies and some utility vests. Just by looking at them, she understood Alan had to disguise himself once or twice previously when working with Mary. Probably during unpleasant medical procedures. He knew she already had a dislike for Danare and his men, making them the perfect scapegoat.

She pulled the hoodie over herself, clipped on a vest, then returned to the ATV.

Alan was by the trailer’s tailgate. He was leaning forward, holding out a piece of tuna to the grouchy old Dimetrodon, Sal. His sail resembled half of a circular saw, the serrated edges appearing sharp enough to cut through wood. It walked in a similar manner as crocodiles Faith had seen in zoos and on TV. His eyes were fixed on the piece of fish. Like a canine, he took it right out of Alan’s hand.

The paleontologist backed onto the trailer and revealed another treat. “Come on, Sal, you fat ass. Get up here.”

It finished dicing the little snack with its teeth, then inspected the edge of the trailer. It put a foot on the tailgate, only to quickly back away after it shifted. Sal waited a moment, then gave it another go. He got his front legs on the trailer and pulled himself aboard.

Alan placed the bait down and climbed over the forward rail. While the reptile munched, he went around the back of the trailer and shut the tailgate. Sal’s tail slipped back and forth, scraping the edge of the tailgate. It was barely sufficient enough to hold the eleven-foot reptile, but it would have to do.

Faith threw herself over the front seat. “Ready whenever you are.”

Alan put a hoodie, vest, and facemask on. Looking like some small-time burglar, he took the seat behind Faith.

“Don’t move in until she’s away from the eggs,” he said to Danare.

The mercenary lit a fresh cigar. “Yeah, sure.”

Faith got a tap on her shoulder, confirming they were good to drive off. And off they went, down the road where Steve and Martin met their doom.

She led the mercenaries and semi-truck driver to the area where she crashed the rancher’s truck. The semi pulled to the side and parked. The driver opened the back doors, revealing a thick layer of hay and sawdust freshly laid for the Triceratops.

“Ready whenever you are,” Danare said.

“Be damn careful with those eggs,” Alan said. “Get them in the far corner, then get the hell out of there. If anyone’s still in there when Mary comes charging in, we’ll have to take DNA samples to identify who it was, because they’ll be nothing but paste when she’s through.”

“Right,” Danare said. He slipped on a pair of night vision goggles. “Ladies first.”

Faith took the lead yet again. She relied on the guidance of her headlights. Before long, she found the spot where she encountered the unlucky steer. She took a left turn, finding traces of her horrifying chase, before ultimately spotting the clearing.

She stopped and motioned for Danare to circle around. They made a wide turn around the nest, disappearing into the darkness after switching off their lights.

“Okay, move in carefully,” Alan said. “Pull up parallel with the edge of the clearing.”

Faith leaned back slightly, hearing the sound of an engine somewhere behind them. “Is someone coming?”

Alan heard it too. He looked over his shoulder as a mercenary rode up on another ATV. His name was Keller, and Alan had overheard Danare instruct him to follow the scientist as an insurance policy in case things went wrong with the Dimetrodon. Keller had a shotgun strapped over his shoulder, a tranquilizer gun in his lap, and a no-bullshit scowl on his face.

“Don’t use that thing unless there’s no other choice,” Alan said to him.

“I don’t answer to you, Doc,” the merc said. “Get to work before my boss decides to go back to Plan A.”

Alan and Faith both invented a list of responses, but for the sake of time, went on with the task at hand.

She slowly drove the ATV and trailer up to the nest. Right away, Mary was agitated, as was Sal, though for an entirely different reason. The Dimetrodon, which weighed only a small percentage of Mary’s mass, had no desire to mess with an angry Triceratops. He clawed at the trailer floor, hissing instinctually, knowing full well his threats meant nothing to the gigantic trike.

Mary stomped in their direction, lowering her horns and threatening the group with a thunderous bellow. Right behind her were the three eggs. They were right under her tail, too close for Danare to grab.

Faith’s hands were sweating. She had grown so used to seeing Mary as benevolent, that seeing her pissed off was a shock to her system. Alan was right; when it came to her eggs, Mary did not mess around. Back at the train, part of her thought of him as maybe being a little paranoid regarding his instructions to disguise themselves in the trike’s presence. Now she was completely on his side. The Triceratops could not speak, but Faith understood her sentiments all the same. If Mary knew she and Alan were trying to put her eggs at risk, they would forever be on her shit list. Their honest motivation meant nothing.

Mary remained in place, still waving her horns.

“Keep your thumb on that throttle,” Alan said. “Be ready to move quick.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me,” Faith muttered, her heart shaking her with each beat.

They held their breaths and waited for Mary to make her move. Nobody was more nervous than Sal. The sailback creature was whipping his tail and bashing his shoulder against the side of the trailer.

“Don’t you move, you big wuss,” Alan grumbled. Not that he could really blame the poor thing. If anything, it was the smartest one of the whole group for NOT wanting to aggravate a fifteen-ton Triceratops.

Mary held her ground.

Danare’s voice came through the radio. “What’s the holdup, Doctor?”

“She’s still too close to the eggs,” Alan said.

“We don’t have all night. Figure it out, or I’m gonna test out my turkey-carving skills.”

Alan placed his radio down. “Yeah, I know you’d like that, you sick fuck.” He grew increasingly impatient. The trike would not move. It was almost as if she was wise to their act. Just a few more steps was all they needed.

“Want me to back up and try to get just a little closer?” Faith asked.

Alan did not like it, but saw no other choice. “Yeah. Just a smidge.”

Faith backed the ATV and trailer up a few yards, then drove in a half circle, putting them a couple of feet closer to the trike. She bellowed in anger, but still did not move.

Sal, on the other hand, was not putting up with this any longer. The scared Dimetrodon lifted himself over the side of the trailer and fell off onto the other side.

“Shit!” Alan exclaimed. The Dimetrodon scampered into the woods with a speed Faith did not expect from those little legs. The mercenary named Keller moved in on the creature and took aim with the tranquilizer rifle. Sal jerked from the stinging impact and growled. He scampered a few extra steps before the drugs kicked in. He settled on his belly, lost in a haze of dreams.

“Damn it!” Alan cursed. He slammed his fist against the seat, his plan gone to hell.

Keller inspected the unconscious reptile, then shrugged at the well-meaning duo. “So much for that.” He tilted his mic to his lips. “Well, boss, the plan’s gone tits up. Looks like we’re stuck with our first option.”

“No!” Alan grabbed his radio. “Not yet, Danare!”

“We’re out of time, Doc.”

“One more minute.”

“Just one more. Literally sixty seconds, then I’m finishing the job.”

Alan placed the radio down and looked at Mary. She was in the exact same spot, not daring to move from her eggs. Only a true threat would get her to go on the attack; something that was foolish enough to actually get well inside the perimeter of her territory.

He double-checked his mask and hood to make sure his identity was hidden.

“I know the look on your face,” Faith said. “You’re planning something really stupid, aren’t you?”

“You already know me well,” he replied. He ran to Keller. “Give me your shotgun.”

The merc scoffed. “You honestly think…”

“For the love of God! Just give it to me!”

Keller groaned and relinquished the weapon. “You lose it, it’s your ass!”

Alan took the weapon and ran to the nest, glancing at Faith on the way. “Get ready to punch it.”

“Oh, God, Alan! You’re not seriously going to…” She watched as he ran within a few yards of the trike, and fired off two blasts. Mary jerked, startled and angered by the intense bursts of sound. Alan turned on his heels and sprinted for the ATV.

Right behind him was a charging Triceratops.

Alan jumped onto the trailer. “Go! Go! Go!”

Faith shot into the woods, the big herbivore trailing them a few yards past the edge of the clearing.

“Well, shit. The nerds pulled it off,” Keller said over the radio. “You’re up, Danare.”

A trio of motorcycle engines rippled to the north. The trike turned her head and roared, seeing the three men in black pull up near her eggs and snatch them up. She turned around and charged at them, leaving gaping craters with each footstep.

Faith circled the ATV around just in time to see the trike race west. She went after it, making sure to not get too close and risk bringing Mary’s wrath on them. Not that there was much risk of that. Mary’s attention was solely on her eggs and the men who stole them.

They could hear Danare’s voice in the radio. “We’re here. Move fast, gentlemen, or else YOU’LL be the one who gets scrambled.” Faith felt her body relax. The plan was working. The men were at the semi container. The echoes of running footsteps up ahead confirmed Mary had not yet reached the road, though that would change in a few seconds.

Or rather one or two…

“Shit! Here she comes!” Danare said. “Out of the way! Out of the way!”

The transmission cut out.

“Hurry!” Alan said.

Faith cut through the woods as fast as she could. By the time they arrived, Mary was in a standoff with Danare and four other mercenaries.

She stood by the trailer’s ramp, unsure whether to do battle with the humans or calmly reunite with her eggs.

“Aim for the legs,” Danare said. “Don’t bother shooting at her head. Might as well put lead in twelve inches of concrete.”

“Don’t shoot,” Alan whispered into the radio. “Give her a minute. She’ll cool off and go inside.”

A heavy stomp from Mary’s front feet nearly skyrocketed the temperature to boiling point. The mercenaries twitched, their fingers partly pressing their triggers.

Mary scraped her feet in the same manner as a rhinoceros would before charging.

Faith closed her eyes. “Oh, no. Please don’t.”

Mary huffed and puffed. Then puffed again. The third time was with less intensity.

“Oh, thank God,” Alan whispered.

Faith opened her eyes and witnessed the trike move up into the container. The instant her tail cleared the entrance, two of Roger’s employees shut the doors and latched them.

Alan ran to a ladder on the side of the container and peeked through a small window. Mary was at ease now, having inspected her eggs. As long as they were safe, nothing else mattered.

He lowered himself to the road. Faith was by his side, equally as relieved.

“That’s the last time I’m getting chased by a Triceratops!” she said, raising a finger at him.

The members of the group exchanged glances in silence. One by one, they steadily broke out in laughter. Even Danare and his men managed to find the humor in her remark.

Faith finally joined in with the laughs. If anything seemed more bizarre than encountering prehistoric beasts, it was sharing a warm moment with these assholes.

Chapter 20

Its eyes opened.

The Drago emerged from the fog of chaotic dreams into a world of hate, anger, and pain – the REAL world. Not that the dreams offered any comfort. In actuality, they only reminded the beast of its previous life and how this band of human invaders had changed it forever. Now it lay on its side, its jaws and limbs locked in a silvery contraption.

The Drago had felt these agonizing restraints before. The first time was back on the island after its initial capture. It was kept in this hunched position for nearly a day before it was placed in a stale-smelling enclosure with four walls.

It was near the caterpillar-shaped steel beast it had broken free from hours ago. Night had fallen, and multiple metal creatures were nearby, spewing vile fumes from their rear pipes. Many humans were gathered nearby, many communicating with the leader of their group.

The Drago understood one thing: for reasons it would never know, they did not want it dead. The sleep-inducing venom from their weapons and the provision of sustenance was evidence of this, as was their behavior back on the island.

It thought of an instance when one of the men in black discharged one of the loud weapons at a flying reptile, gravely injuring it. Many of the humans converged around it in what initially appeared to be a feeding frenzy. In reality, they were fighting to save its life. Their efforts were unsuccessful, but it was enough for the Drago to understand it had a certain advantage against them. Unlike the humans, it had no qualms about killing. When it came to their species, the more, the merrier.

First, it needed to break free of these restraints.

As strong as the Drago was, the bindings were stronger. They were made from some kind of material stronger than the largest tree. No amount of physical exertion could overcome them. Yet, somehow, the humans could undo these restraints in the blink of an eye. They did not rely on brute force to do it. Instead, they used some type of tool. Whatever the item was, it did not need to come into contact with the restraints, but could unlock them with a touch of a red square-shaped light on the bottom of the glassy surface.

One of the humans had it in hand at this very moment. He was unaware that he was being watched. Such was the case with many of the Drago’s would-be victims. That tool in his hand was the only way to free itself and put its instruments of death to work.

For that to happen, it needed to coax the holder into tapping the red square.

The dreams of its island territory worked in its favor. It replayed the memory of their attempts to save the flying reptile. Several tools were used in their efforts, including some thin flexible tubes that transferred fluids into the bloodstream, and one that went down its throat. After an hour of observation, the Drago understood the latter was delivering oxygen to the creature’s lungs. To do that, they needed to part its jaws, something that would have been impossible if the flyer had been wearing the same restraints.

The memory of the dying flyer revealed another disadvantage the humans did not realize they had. Ignorance. During the procedure, the flyer began to shake violently and spew a foamy substance from its mouth. The humans operating on it thought this to mean something critical, when in actuality, it was a normal function for the creature. The Drago knew this, for it too had to vomit such foams. It was the body’s way of clearing its system of unwanted bacteria and germs. Sometimes the reflex happened automatically, other times it would need to be triggered if the animal was aware it had consumed something harmful. To the Drago, it was standard procedure. To the humans, it appeared to indicate a critical health issue.

One they would have to remove the restraints in order to treat.

The Drago closed its eyes. For its plan to work, it was imperative they believe it to be unconscious. It steadied its breathing and relaxed its body, its brain transmitting the signals to the glands in its gut to begin the flushing process.

***

“Be careful,” Alan said to the vet techs while they loaded the unconscious Dimetrodon into the box car. Had the night been less chaotic, and less bloody, he would have been more amused by Cal’s concern for his sailback friend.

He leaned against the ATV next to Faith. She had been quiet since the capturing of the trike. Her uneasiness could be felt from a mile away. The dinosaurs were once again in the possession of Roger Trill’s company. Now his crew was in the process of covering their tracks. The big question was: how did that pertain to Faith?

“You okay?” he asked.

Right as he spoke, they heard Danare speaking into his radio. “Get the victims to the fire. Are the fuel drums in place?”

Faith put a hand on her stomach. Alan knew the answer to his question. She was wondering if she was going to end up as human tinder for a very destructive forest fire. That concern sparked the internal debate of taking the bribe from Roger and going along with the cover-up.

Alan put a hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

“Ha.” It was a weak reply. “I wish I could believe that.”

“Me too,” he admitted. “Listen, I have no leg to stand on when it comes to moral virtue. If you take Roger’s offer and turn the other cheek, I won’t blame you one bit. Especially if the alternative is the destruction of your reputation or…” He could not bring himself to speak of the second, and more likely possibility. The point was clear. What good was doing the right thing if all it did was lead to your demise? Either way, Roger Trill won, at least for now. Until the next big disaster.

Faith lit a cigarette. Two long draws failed to put her at ease. What she really needed was a beer. Or three or four. Even that would barely help at this point.

She burnt her way through the rest of that cigarette as she watched Roger and Danare come her way. Behind them were the mercenaries Reed and Andres. Both of them held M4 Carbines, muzzles pointed at the ground, ready to be used at a moment’s notice.

The moment of truth had arrived.

“Ma’am, I realized I did not thank you for helping us out there in the woods,” Roger said. His effort to convey gratitude was so insincere, Faith began suspecting he had political aspirations.

“As far as I’m concerned, there has been too much death tonight,” she replied. “I didn’t see the need for Mary to be added to the list of tragedies.”

“I appreciate that,” Roger said. He stuck his hands in his pockets, glanced at Danare and the others, then turned his eyes back to Faith. It was a classic case of stalling. The only reason a guy as powerful as Roger Trill would stall when talking to a nobody like Faith was if he was winding up for an uncomfortable conversation. The only thing that would make him uncomfortable was getting his hands dirtier than they already were.

“Just spit it out,” Faith said.

Roger shrugged. “Okay. You have a choice. One option, really. Fortunately, it’s a generous option, if I do say so myself.”

Faith snorted. People like him would consider donating two nickels as generous.

“Two hundred thousand, spread over the next several months,” he said. Faith gulped. She expected a bribe, but something about hearing those numbers spoken out loud was more intoxicating than she thought it would be.

“And a position in my company,” he continued. “I see you work in construction. I have a couple of big sites that were to be started on in the next week or two. Work for me, corroborate on the ‘cause’ of what happened here tonight, you’ll make double the salary you earn at your current job, and after a year, will be granted an administrative position if that’s the sort of thing that pleases you. Oh, and I will replace your truck and pay the taxes on it, and provide a housing allowance.”

Faith dropped her cigarette. The horrible gut feeling had lifted. In its place was a dopamine boost. Not only did she have a way of saving her skin, but she had a prosperous career ahead of her. All she had to do was say, “Yes sir!”

That, and tell some lies to the press.

Five minutes ago, such an idea would have made her sick to her stomach. No way could she dishonor herself by going along with such an egregious cover-up, not to mention benefitting from the deaths of many innocent people. Like many other people, Faith was very vocal about the immorality of high-profile people, mainly politicians, selling themselves out for the almighty dollar. ‘Integrity really does have a price,’ she always said. Here she was, finally in their shoes. What she learned was the true extent of her criticism. Integrity truly did have a price. It was not a dollar amount, but cost something much greater.

Her father said it was the soul.

The dopamine wore off and the ugly feeling came back. She thought of her father and the situation he had faced at his job. He worked for a factory and was in charge of logging all incoming and outgoing shipments. It was a new job with a promise of increased pay. He had assumed that pay would come with future promotions and maybe some holiday and fiscal year bonuses.

The truth came with the arrival of eight shipping containers. Her father was instructed to log seven of them, and in return, he would get a cut of the ‘extra profit’. That profit ended up being a crystal meth operation.

It had been going on for years, garnering millions of dollars’ worth of revenue. The previous man in his position enjoyed two steady incomes until his retirement. The owners had assumed Faith’s dad would easily say yes. He had two young kids at home, was falling behind on the mortgage, had a truck that was on the verge of falling apart, and had maxed out three credit cards.

A couple of weeks of going along with their side hustle would have eliminated all that.

It only took a couple of hours to have the factory swarming with deputy sheriffs and state troopers. By the end of the night, the factory was closed down.

Over the years, Faith had heard people comment to him about that incident. Many said how unsure they were of their ability to turn down such money. To that, her father replied that there was always an opportunity to make money, legally and ethically. Jobs and wealth would last as long as the body, but the soul was eternal. For all of eternity, even after all the stars burned out, he would have to exist with the consequences of the choices he made in life.

Faith had never given much thought to spirituality. Her focus was mainly on whatever was in front of her at the moment. But now, she felt something different within herself. Those words spoken by her father were loud and clear, as though he was sitting beside her right this moment. A guardian angel, he warned her conscience of the temptations of evil.

For the first time, she felt like his spirit was watching over her. Not only did she feel protected, she felt something even more priceless.

She felt forgiven.

Faith looked Roger Trill in the eye. He cracked a smile, expecting a favorable response.

“You can take that job and your money and stick it up your ass.”

Roger leaned away, all at once astonished and insulted. Nobody had ever refused an offer from him before.

“If that’s the way you want it…”

“Same here,” Alan said. He stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Faith, calmly accepting his fate.

Roger responded with a look of disgust, while Danare chuckled as he casually puffed on a cigar.

“What a shame, Doctor,” Roger said. “You have accomplished so much working for me. I thought you were an ambitious man. You were on track to having your name be recognized across the globe. You would have become a figure as influential as Albert Einstein. And you’re throwing it all away, for what? Because of some collateral damage? A little lie here and there? Aw, does that make your tummy ache? Newsflash, Doc. Lies are what make the world go ‘round.” He stepped away. “Not that it concerns you any longer. Danare, they’re all yours.”

The mercenary stepped forward. “How ‘bout we take a little stroll?”

Faith and Alan looked to each other. Their hands touched. They did not need to say anything. They had made their choice and cleared their consciences. As scary as it was in the moment, it beat living a life of guilt.

As far as Faith was concerned, she had done that for long enough.

“There’s just one thing I need to do first,” Faith said. Danare waited with caution, watching her hand as it slipped into her pocket. It re-emerged with the pack of smokes given to her by one of the men and her lighter. She tucked a cigarette between her teeth, lit its tip, then slipped the pack back into her pocket.

Her hand came out in a closed fist. Danare’s head jerked to the right after absorbing her right hook, the cigar flying from his mouth. The other two mercs approached, ready to assist him in punishing the prisoner for her defiance. He licked his lips and spat a little blood.

“That make you feel better?”

Faith smirked. “A little bit, actually.”

“Good.” He grabbed her by the arm and began pulling her from the ATV. “Because it’s the best feeling you’ll experience from here on out.”

Alan moved in to remove Danare’s grip from her arm, only to get a left hook of his own. He fell against the ATV and slumped against the wheel well. The mercenaries, Reed and Andres, converged on him and pressed their rifle muzzles to his chin.

“The choice is yours,” Danare said. “You two can do this the easy way, or you can share a train car with the Drago when it wakes up. It’s up to you.”

Alan stood up.

Faith gave him a nod. It’s okay.

He gave her a nod of his own.

“Oh, SHIT! It’s having a seizure!”

All eyes turned to the frantic voice of one of the vet techs. The people in blue scrubs rushed to the reptilian’s side. It was shaking as if fifty thousand volts of electricity were coursing through its body. White foam spilled from the corners of its mouth. Its arms and legs locked out, pulling against the titanium restraints.

“Blood pressure’s dropping,” another tech said. “It might be having a reaction to the sedatives.”

“But wouldn’t there have been symptoms earlier?” another asked.

“What else could be causing this?!” the first one said. He knelt by the creature’s muzzle. “Damn it. Its breathing stopped. We have to clear the bile and get a tube down its throat.”

Alan pushed Andres and Reed aside. Veins bulging from his neck, he was a man who was watching a disaster about to unfold.

“No! Don’t! It’s not…”

A blow from the butt of Reed’s rifle sent him to his hands and knees.

“Wait,” Faith said. “He knows these animals. I think he knows what’s going on.”

“I’LL tell you what’s going on,” Danare growled.

The techs continued sorting their emergency tools. One leaned close to the Drago’s mouth with a tube.

“Damn! There’s no way I can get this in.” He looked to the man with the control tablet, wirelessly linked to the restraints. “Hit the release button.”

“You sure?”

“Yes! It’s the big red square on the bottom of the screen. Hurry up! This thing’s gonna choke!”

“Do it!” a passionate Roger Trill yelled from the road. All he could see was millions of dollars of profit about to go up in flames. Alan Neil, however, knew something far more costly was imminent. He reached out toward the group of vets.

“No!!!”

The man with the tablet pressed the red button. The restraints and muzzle popped open.

In the blink of an eye, the seizing stopped, and the Drago snapped its jaws at the lead tech’s face. The man convulsed in agony, his body shaking in the same manner the creature had been moments ago. It yanked its jaws away, taking the man’s face off his skull.

The others erupted in panic. The creature righted itself and pounced on the man with the tablet, punishing him for his gullibility by digging its clawed fingers through his neck.

The two mercenaries on standby took aim with their rifles. Detecting the familiar motion, the Drago leapt off the dying man just as the shots rang out. Bullets passed through the empty space where it had been, missing their intended target and instead hitting a pair of vet techs.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! …Fuck!” one of the mercs shouted. Every curse came after another missed shot as he attempted to track the Drago. It ran in a wide arc, ultimately turning in his direction. By then, his magazine had run dry and his partner was making a run for the trike’s semi.

The Drago went after the fleeing man first. The merc was tackled to the ground, squealing as the jaws closed over his temples. His cries turned to high-pitched shrieks, then to a croaking sound, concluding with a CRACK of his neck and the peeling sound of flesh tearing. The Drago stood tall, proudly showcasing the man’s severed head in its jaws.

The other merc, still cursing repeatedly, slammed a fresh mag into his gun. By the time he shouldered the weapon, the Drago was coming at him.

The trained soldier, who had probably seen all kinds of hell in his years of experience, wailed like a mental patient. The beast collided with him, throwing his aim to the side as he opened fire. Bullets sprayed into the train cars and the nearby crowd. Faith fell to the ground alongside her captors, hearing the whistle of projectiles whizzing overhead.

Louder than the rifle shots were the screams of the merc. Faith looked up from her crouched position, just in time to witness the horrible fate of having his arm ripped off and then sliced down the middle with a fifteen-inch claw.

“Son of a bitch!” Danare pushed his prisoner back to the ground and took aim at the Drago.

“No!” Roger shouted. He ran to the merc and attempted to grab his rifle and protect his asset.

“The hell’s the matter with you?!” Danare said. He elbowed Roger in the chin and put him on his ass. “Try that again, and I’ll hit you with something worse.”

“Put a dart in it!” Roger pleaded.

“Sorry. I’m not paid enough to let that thing put its teeth in me, ya stupid shit.”

The interference came at the cost of another employee. One of the semi-truck drivers ran to the cab of their vehicle, only to get pulled to the ground and disemboweled. The Drago stretched a mouthful of intestines from his belly, all the while appearing to watch the victim’s twitches of pain. It KNEW it inflicted unbearable pain. Worse, it ENJOYED it.

It turned its eyes to the man in black who had twice captured it via the use of the sleeping venom. Now, he was pointing a lethal weapon in its direction with a clear intent to kill. It left the dying mercenary groaning on the ground and charged in Danare’s direction. In a few short seconds, it came within thirty feet.

Danare squeezed the trigger. The Drago pivoted on its heels and barked. Blood splattered from its torso as it dashed to the safety of the trees.

It knocked a pair of employees to the ground as it cut through the confused crowd. In under five seconds, it managed to disappear into the woods.

Silence engulfed the base camp. Those who had fallen to the ground slowly got back up. Those who were alive, at least.

Roger remained seated on the ground, his teeth bared in an animalistic manner.

Danare shrugged. “Quit being such a baby. You have plenty of assets. Your little dinosaur exhibit will not lose any revenue because you don’t have that overgrown frilled lizard on display.”

Roger looked at Alan. “How hurt do you think it is? You think we can save it?”

Faith and Alan glared at him in bewilderment. Even Danare made a face. The greedy idiot was seriously consulting with Alan as if he didn’t just order his execution two minutes ago.

Alan probably would have come up with a snide response had his attention not been drawn by the pair of red and blue lights approaching from the east and west.

The two state trooper vehicles pulled up to the scene. Both corrupt officers quickly approached Roger, who now got back on his feet.

“The hell are you two doing here?”

“We heard gunshots,” Trooper O’Connor said. “I radioed Tally and he said he heard it too.”

“Sounded like a goddamn war zone,” Trooper Tally said. “Wasn’t a couple of hunting rifles either. I know automatic gunfire when I hear it.”

“You’re not being paid for your knowledge on what guns make what sounds,” the infuriated Roger Trill said. “You’re supposed to keep people out of the area until we have cleared out.”

O’Connor looked at the dying mercenary lying on the ground with his intestines hanging out. “Whoa!”

“Occupational hazard,” Roger said. “The situation is under control. Now, if you please, I’d like us to track down the Drago and –”

BAM!

The first thing Faith noticed was the look on Alan’s face. Many times tonight had she seen distress in his eyes. What she saw this time went beyond that. It was the same look she had seen of people on news feeds back in 2018 during the false missile alert. It was the look of somebody who wasn’t just scared, but realizing that a disaster of epic proportions was moments away.

Another BAM echoed from the second-to-last box car. Drinker’s box car.

“Ohhh, no, no, no, no!”

He ran to the train. Faith started to follow, only for Reed to grab her by the arm.

“Hold it right there! AGH!”

The prodding of her hot cigarette against his eyebrow made the hired gun stagger. Faith broke free of his grasp and joined Alan by the box car.

Danare and Andres ran after her, Reed trailing behind them. Of those three, he was the only one who had the mindset of recapturing the prisoner. Danare and Andres, on the other hand, could not have cared less about Faith right now. Their concern was the source of the huge vibrations.

They assembled at the door and gazed at the ravaged IV unit. On the walls were a series of bullet holes.

The Tyrant’s gargantuan head shifted. Its seven-meter tail lifted off the floor and smacked the ceiling like a striking rattlesnake.

Faith looked at the pool of spilt sedatives gathering near its chin. The steady supply of drugs had been cut off. As Alan had warned, the creature’s metabolism quickly cycled through the dose already in its system. The result was the awakening of an angry Tyrant.

“Oh, God, please no.” Alan glanced around. “Where’s my kit? What the hell did those idiots do with my kit?!”

“Can’t you stop it?” Danare asked.

“Not without my KIT, genius!”

BAM!

Even if Alan did have his kit, it would not have mattered. Drinker’s eyes were open. The three mercenaries backed away, knowing full well the meaning of that look.

Much like the Drago, Drinker was not just hungry, but he was PISSED. And this pissed-off monster was far bigger, heavier, and a hell of a lot MEANER to start with.

Its lips peeled back. A gust of hot air swept over Faith. She felt Alan’s hand close over her shoulder and pull her away from the door.

The Tyrant lifted its head, parted its jaws, and unleashed a roar loud enough to shatter the skylight of the box car.

“Run!” Alan yelled.

Faith didn’t need him to say so for her to do it. She felt like a fool for joining him at the box car to begin with. They ran toward the road, the three mercenaries staying behind in a foolish effort to neutralize the threat with rifle fire. All they managed to accomplish was angering an already infuriated giant.

Danare, realizing the futility of his efforts, took off running. Reed and Andres remained in place, and lived just long enough to feel the regret of that decision.

The box car exploded from within, the front half reduced to jagged fragments of steel and insulation. From the cloud of dust and debris emerged the fifty-foot-long Tyrannosaurus rex. In front of it were the two guns-for-hire, both of whom were knocked off their feet. Reed sat up and emptied the rest of his magazine into the creature’s chest. Drinker twitched from the annoying pricks that failed to penetrate its incredibly thick hide.

The rex lifted its foot and brought all eighteen tons of its weight on top of him. A burst of red mist ejected from underneath its toes and heel, wetting the face of the horrified Andres. Unlike his comrade, he did not have the mental fortitude to go down fighting. He waved both hands maniacally and screamed while the jaws came down on him. A deep CRUNCH punctuated his lifespan, followed by an epilogue of blood drops raining onto the grass.

The gathering of Trill employees broke apart in chaos. It was every person for themselves. Even the last remaining pair of Danare’s mercenaries could not be bothered to stand their ground. Not when faced with a fifty-foot T-rex.

Keller, the man who escorted Alan and Faith in pursuit of the trike, made a beeline for his motorcycle. In doing so, he underestimated the Tyrant’s thirty-five mile-per-hour speed. He started the engine, only to fall off as Drinker’s jaws came down. They snapped shut over the bike, instantly mashing it into a mess of unrecognizable parts before tossing it aside.

Keller unslung his shotgun and fired a blast into the creature’s neck. The massive beast snorted, almost appearing amused at the puny human’s pitiful attempt to kill it.

“Oh, shit.”

Keller rolled to his hands and knees, and pushed his feet against the ground in an effort to sprint. He failed to even make the first step before the jaws imploded his body like a ripe cherry tomato. Blood, guts, and his shotgun flew out of the red haze.

The creature turned, its tail smacking against the ATV and two other motorcycles. It lunged at the nearest collection of panicked humans, snatching them up one after another with its jaws. It pivoted to the left, its tail catching Trooper Tally on the small of his back and launching him far into the sky… both halves of him.

It moved with great bursts of speed. The other semi-truck driver attempted to make a go for his vehicle, but instead found himself in the jaws of the Tyrant. It swung its head left and right, the body breaking apart like moist bread, the parts flinging every which way.

A clean-up crew member ran for the safety of the woods, coming within a few steps of the tree line before he saw the Rex’s shadow come over him. Next came its foot.

The Rex perked up, registering the sound of the helicopter rotors starting to spin. It turned around and watched as several staff members flocked to the chopper.

The engines were whining, the pilot yelling at the mercenary in the fuselage to shut the door.

Thunderous stomps shook the earth.

Faith, having gotten lost in the madness, found herself in the charging T-rex’s path as it went for the chopper. Alan pushed her as hard as he could, successfully knocking her off of the literal stomping ground for the beast’s right foot.

It ignored the two humans in favor of those on the verge of escape. The chopper pilot initiated takeoff, the unfortunate souls below left behind to have their pulverized innards fertilize the valley.

The chopper rose twenty feet into the air, the pilot veering to port. It was a maneuver made half a second too late. The Rex stretched its legs and extended its neck as far as possible, ramming its head against the chopper’s underside.

The concussive force put the aircraft into a tailspin. Its pilot braked left and right, failing to overcome the turbulence and systems failure. The Tyrant lizard backpedaled, awed by the results of its work.

It backed away from the blast, taking the time to squash the last couple of survivors before turning its eyes back to the road.

Faith scurried backwards on all fours like a timid rodent, afraid to stand to her full height and risk drawing attention to herself. Alan did the same, though he was ready to make a mad dash at any moment. The Rex stomped toward the road, deliberately bashing what had been Mary’s box car on the way.

“Come on! Get me out of here!” Roger Trill exclaimed to Trooper O’Connor. The corrupt law enforcement officer scampered to his vehicle, not paying attention to whether Roger was behind him or not. All he cared about at this point was saving his own skin. The trooper climbed into the driver’s seat, too panicked to notice the front left tire was flattened by a projectile shard from the helicopter crash.

Roger managed to climb into the back passenger seat before the engine started. As O’Connor began taking the vehicle east, a third individual came into view.

“Hold up!” Danare shouted. Holding what appeared to be a very large rifle, he threw himself into the front passenger seat. “Floor it!”

O’Connor took the Interceptor eastward, the red and blue lights proceeding to strobe. The Rex, baring teeth, followed the vehicle with its gaze. With one of the tires flattened, the Interceptor’s front left side dragged against the ground, the tire quickly coming apart in thick pieces.

Drawn by the light and sound of the engine and siren, the Tyrant pursued.

Faith and Alan held perfectly still, watching in stunned silence as the beast vanished into the darkness. Beneath their palms were the shockwaves of each powerful step. In their minds were the echoes of every scream they heard on this horrible night.

Chapter 21

Smoke filled the air. A flurry of rainbow-colored sparks flew several feet high in a marvelous spectacle. The five cones sounded off with a screeching boom sound as their black powder energy was released into the air.

When the fountains went quiet, a new series of noises filled the edge of town. Unlike the ear-ringing screams of Bradley’s fountains, these were low-pitched sounds of “Boooo!”

The crowd of drunken construction workers threw beer bottles and cigarette butts. One of the latter struck Tanner in the back of the head, reigniting his already hot temper. He stood up, knocking over his chair.

“Who the hell threw that?”

“I don’t know,” one of the guys said. The group chuckled like a bunch of immature teenagers.

“Come on, already!” someone else shouted. “I thought this was supposed to be some epic fireworks show! All you’ve shown us so far is puny shit my six-year-old nephew shoots off!”

“Yeah!” another said. “Where’s the good stuff?!”

“Right here!” One of the laborers stood up and tossed a Snap-Pop-It at his buddy’s boot, making him jump. Those seated around him pointed and laughed.

Tanner slowly exhaled, then looked over at Bradley. “I hate to agree with these buffoons, but I must say, sparkling fountain? Again? It’s nine-thirty-five. Sun’s down. We all still have to be up at the ass crack of dawn. Mind getting to it?”

“Just finishing the warm-up act,” Bradley said.

“And it’s been gr- eh…” he shrugged. “Boring as hell. Where are the big explosions?”

The group erupted with a unanimous “Yeah?!”

The sense of power it gave him made Tanner smile. Normally, he did not care much for the drunken behavior of his coworkers, especially knowing a group of deputies were parked not too far behind their seats. But at this moment, he was experiencing the sentiment of ‘If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em’.

“Alright, alright,” Bradley said. “You want things that go boom? You’ll get things that go boom.”

He expected cheers, but instead got a bunch of snarky laughter.

“So, you mean we’re getting a standard fireworks show?” someone called out. More laughter swept the area.

Tanner, sensing Bradley’s frustration, raised his hands to the crowd. “Okay, settle down, fellas. We’ll get the good stuff in a minute. Don’t forget Bradley spent his own money on this stuff.”

“Should’ve spent it on a hooker!” someone shouted. “Might’ve gotten more BANG for his buck!”

More obnoxious laughter.

Even in the dark, the redness on Bradley’s face was as radiant as the sun. “I’ll give you a bang!”

The crowd went silent.

“Uh, I’m not into that sort of thing,” the jokester said, sparking another wave of laughter.

Bradley stood silent, rocket in hand, realizing how his comeback sounded. “Ah, screw you guys.”

Tanner fixed his seat and sat down. Chuckling with the workforce, he glanced over at Alfredo. He was sitting to Tanner’s left, hardly noticing the exchange going on around him.

“You alright there?” Tanner elbowed him to get his attention. “Alf?”

“Huh? Oh, I’m good.”

Tanner sniggered. “You see a pretty woman out there? You’re staring awfully hard.”

Alfredo shook his head. “No, I thought I heard something out there. Like a blast, or something like that. I don’t know, just a lot of noise. Almost like, uh…”

“Fireworks?” Tanner said. He smacked Alfredo on the shoulder. “No shit, dude. It’s the Fourth! I’m sure everyone in the valley is blasting shit off.”

Alfredo gave one more look into the distance. “Didn’t sound like fireworks. Almost sounded like, I don’t know, an explosion. Like a real explosion.”

As he spoke, Bradley let loose a rocket. It ascended high into the sky and burst into a million blazing sparks.

Now Bradley was getting cheers from his friends.

“Explosions, huh?” Tanner said to Alfredo. “Like that?” He tapped him again on the shoulder and joined the others in clapping. Alfredo shrugged it off and allowed himself to enjoy the show.

“Get the Five Hundred Gram Cake!” he shouted.

“Good choice,” Tanner said. “Two hundred blasts are about to rock our ear drums. Can’t imagine this night will get crazier than this!”

***

The booming sounds of gargantuan feet served as a continuous reminder to the three occupants inside the Interceptor of the bloodthirsty threat behind them.

Danare moved the barrel of his .50-caliber Barrett M82A1 sniper rifle over the center console to access the magazine slot. He slammed a ten-round magazine in place, then twisted his body to get a look through the rear windshield.

“Can’t this thing move any faster?”

“I’m already flooring it,” Trooper O’Connor replied. “I think we have a flat.”

Danare raised himself to look over the driver’s side window at the sparks spitting over the bottom frame.

“Worse than that. We’re on the rim.”

The Tyrant’s huge face appeared in the red glow of the taillights, its fangs dripping saliva. Roger Trill shivered in the back seat, arms wrapped around his knees. No longer was his mind on his business prospects. What good was money if you’re melting inside the gullet of a fifty-foot Tyrannosaurus?

“Danare! Shoot it!”

“Oh, NOW you want me to, huh?” Danare replied. He tried to take aim through the rear windshield, but could not manage to get into any kind of proper shooting position with this weapon. Having learned from his experience on the island, he made sure to pick some toys that dealt a heavier punch. The problem was many of those toys, such as his grenade launchers and rocket launchers, were in the helicopter, and subsequently lost when it went down. All he had left was his sniper rifle.

The Tyrant was steadily closing in. The powerful muscles in its legs had evolved over the millennia to carry its eighteen-ton mass across long distances at high speed. The Interceptor would have to travel several miles before wearing it down.

“It’s gonna get us!” the trooper cried.

The footsteps could be felt through the seats. The beast kept its head low, tongue flapping between its jaws.

“Aw, hell,” Danare groaned. Had he been aware of the damage to the vehicle, he would have stayed behind and sniped the creature from afar. He had hoped to outrun the thing and gain enough distance to pull off a few shots. Instead, he was closer than ever to it.

He threw himself over the center console and climbed into the back seat. “Move over.” He shoved Roger as he spoke. Propped on his knees, he unholstered his sidearm and put several rounds through the rear windshield. The glass shattered and fell off over the trunk, giving him an unhindered view of the Tyrant. Danare propped the barrel of the weapon over the parcel shelf and took aim at the beast. With it being so close, there was no need to use the scope.

“Taste this.”

BANG!

The rifle kicked back against his shoulder. The Rex let out a cry of anguish and veered to its right. Danare fired again, planting a round in its left hip.

With another roar, the Rex twisted and fell. Its enormous mass put another shockwave through the earth, felt even by the three men in the car after gaining three hundred feet of distance.

“Alright, stop right there,” Danare said to O’Connor. The trooper hit the brakes and watched with hopeful eyes while Danare put his eye to the scope.

The Rex was on its belly, bending its neck to the side to lick its bleeding hip. It was impossible to tell in this darkness if it had a fractured bone or had only sustained a flesh wound. What was certain was the efficiency of the Barrett M82A1. Unlike the other weapons, it was able to pierce the thick skin. Now Danare just needed to plant a kill shot.

He centered his crosshairs on the Tyrant’s head. He pulled his last cigar from his pocket, lit the tip, and applied pressure to the trigger.

He was about to have the ultimate trophy.

BANG!

The Rex pierced the air with a roar that rivaled artillery blasts. It thrashed its head, roaring again after Danare hit its skull with an additional shot.

A third bullet to the head put the Rex back on its side. Its feet pedaled in the air, its tail resembling a massive sea serpent curving behind it.

Danare drew on his cigar and watched what he believed to be death throes. Roger peeked for himself, his shoulders rising and falling with every breath.

“Nice!” Trooper O’Connor said. “I think you got it.”

“Bet you’re happy I came prepared,” Danare said to Roger. The business tycoon gave him a sour glance. His expression of relief quickly reverted back to bitterness. His venture was ruined, the main attraction-to-be lying dead in the dirt. All of the effort put into bringing the beast to the mainland amounted to nothing in the end. Despite all of the trouble and all of the lives lost, he KNEW it would be worthwhile in the end. The entire world would have flocked to his exhibit to see his prehistoric monsters on display. Now all he had were a couple of boring herbivores, a mellow Dimetrodon, and a dead T-rex. The Drago was probably fatally wounded. If it wasn’t, it would be even more difficult to catch. Even he knew wounded animals were twice as deadly. Plus he had no crew to catch it with.

Everything was ruined.

“Um, guys?” O’Connor pointed. The Rex could be seen in the moonlight, its tail lifting off the dirt. Its left foot kicked up dust. A gust of air shot from its nostrils.

Danare grimaced. The beast was lifting its head and looking in his direction. It licked its chops and stood to its feet. One last shake of its head rid its brain of the haziness that came from the multiple impacts.

“No…” Danare was rarely in disbelief. In his many years on the battlefield and on the hunt, he had seen everything there was to see and more. But there was always one consistency: Nothing could survive a hit from a .50-caliber round. He had seen two feet of concrete broken apart from shots fired at two hundred yards by the very weapon he was using. It was designed to penetrate inch-thick armor at fifteen hundred yards.

And Drinker had taken three hits to the head, and was getting up as if it had suffered nothing more serious than a good whack to the chin.

Danare knew the skull was thick, but he did not expect it to be THAT thick!

The beast resumed the chase. Its legs moved with the same grace they had before, its injuries nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

In the blink of an eye, Roger went from bitter back to frightened. “Oh my God! Oh my God! Shoot it! Shoot it! What are you waiting for?!”

Danare squeezed the trigger. The Tyrant’s head jerked to the right, a small stream of blood shooting from its snout. Its advance was unfettered. Each step came quicker, and louder, than the last.

Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! THUMP!

“Shit! Shit! SHIIIT!” O’Connor floored the accelerator. The damaged rim spun against the ground like a sawblade, failing to gain any momentum.

“The hell are you doing?” Danare said.

“I can’t get any traction!” the frantic trooper shouted. He stomped on the pedal, looked at the giant in his rearview mirror, and fully succumbed to madness.

Screaming uncontrollably, O’Connor tore out of the Interceptor and made a Hail Mary attempt to escape. It gained him maybe two additional seconds of life.

Powerful jaws encompassed his body, reducing his human form to a red mixture with a single chomp.

Danare watched the thing lift its head, one of the trooper’s limp feet dangling from its teeth. It turned and set its sights on the Interceptor.

It was obvious what was coming, and Danare knew the shelter of the vehicle was insufficient protection. Danare dove out of the car. Roger stayed behind, clinging to the naïve hope that somehow, he would be safe in there.

The Tyrant held its body at an upward angle, almost resembling its out-of-date depictions from mid-twentieth century art and film. Its head pointed down and tilted to the side while it decided whether to go after the man on the ground or the one inside the machine.

It chose the nearer of the two.

Roger, realizing his mistake, began crawling on all fours to the open door. Jaws, extended to ninety degrees, slammed shut at bullet speed, the front teeth closing over each side of the car. Glass shattered and the aluminum frame crumpled like a soda can under a vise. The ceiling caved in, blocking Roger’s avenue of escape.

Danare turned around and pointed the muzzle of his weapon in the Rex’s direction. The tyrannical titan stood upright again, holding the Interceptor in its mouth. Inside was a screaming Roger Trill.

“Get me out!”

Danare could see his hands protrude from a gap in the crumpling car, then winced as the metal closed around them. Roger’s next screams were of pain.

His hired gun could do nothing even if he wanted to. It was for reasons like this that he demanded payment up front. Frankly, Danare had had his fill of dinosaurs. With Roger gone, he would no longer have to worry about dealing with these damn things ever again.

All he needed to do now was put Drinker out of his misery. His gun may have been unable to penetrate the skull, but a few good shots to the neck had the chance of hitting something vital, such as the jugular vein or its airway.

He took several steps to his right for a better view of Drinker’s neck. Even firing from the hip with a weapon such as the Barrett, it was a clear shot.

The Tyrant applied additional pressure. Roger’s yells were reduced to a split-second “BLEEEH!” sound before being silenced forever under the Interceptor’s final implosion.

The jaws went from a ninety-degree spread to thirty. Between them was a useless hunk of metal, dripping gasoline, oil, and coolant.

Danare took a nice draw of his cigar, the tip shining a bright orange against the darkness.

“Ya like that? Well, try a bite of this, Dino!”

The Tyrant swung its head towards the familiar voice, car still in its mouth. A tidal wave of gasoline and oil splashed Danare… and his hot cigar.

WHOOSH!

The rifle fell from his hands as the mercenary began running in circles, body ablaze.

The Tyrant dropped the inedible metal and watched the glowing human run about, hands clawing at himself as though that would somehow remove the flames. It did not bother stomping him under its foot or pulverizing him with its jaws. Watching him racing aimlessly in the dark like a burning meteor trailing smoke was satisfying in itself.

No amount of movement could spare the alpha of the men in black from the scorching flames.

He completed seven laps before dropping to his knees. There, he remained for nearly a minute, still trying to pull the fire from his skin. All he managed to remove was the skin itself.

The writhing ceased and the man faceplanted in the dirt, the fire now eating away at a lifeless corpse.

Victorious, the Tyrant looked to the vastness of the valley. It may have been free, but the vengeful urge to kill remained. The invasive species ripped it from its home world. For that, they were all condemned to suffer under its rule. It had killed the mightiest of their members. By natural law, the land had become its kingdom. It was the king.

The Tyrant.

A distant crackling sound drew its eyes to the east. The beast took in the sight of multi-colored sparkling lights in the sky. Loud whistling sounds came with the rise of tiny little projectiles. One after another, they exploded in midair, resulting in blinding flashes of sparks.

The Rex could not identify the strange fires in the sky, but based on its experiences in the past year, it understood the source. Humans.

With that knowledge came an upsurge in its insatiable desire to kill. The Rex pushed east at full speed, leaving a trail of three-toed craters in its wake.

***

The Five Hundred Gram Cake unleashed its explosive contents high into the night sky, garnering applause from the drunken audience. Tanner clapped his hands and bumped Alfredo on the shoulder.

“Hey, hand me a beer, will ya? You’re closer to the cooler.” He continued watching the show as the final set of rockets left the cube-shaped box. In the two minutes it took for the unit to conclude, the beer never came. Tanner looked over at his buddy. “Hey, dude?”

Alfredo’s face was tense. Tanner was uncertain whether it was anger or fear.

“Dude?” He shook Alfredo’s shoulder. “You alright?”

Alfredo stood up to look into the valley. “I thought it was the fireworks, but it’s something else.”

“The hell are you talking about?” He got up and went past Alfredo to grab a beer from the cooler. “I told you before. Everybody and their brother is blasting off…”

He looked at the melted ice inside the cooler. Small ripples formed, gradually getting larger and larger. The beer bottles started shaking. A series of rumbles swept under his feet.

The rest of the workforce took notice. People stood out of their chairs and stared at the ground, each person equally as confused as the next.

“The hell is that?” someone asked.

“You hear that?” asked another.

The crowd went silent. Now Tanner could hear it: loud booms in rapid succession, getting louder and louder. Nearer and nearer.

“Is that… fireworks?” someone asked.

“No,” Alfredo said. The chairs began to shake. The booms coincided with each vibration. “That’s not in the air. That’s coming from the ground.” He looked to the west, where he believed to have heard the strange sounds earlier.

Then came a whole new noise. This time, it absolutely came from somewhere above the ground. About sixteen feet off the ground.

A roar.

It emerged inside the reach of the light poles, a creature of immense size and strength. The only thing surpassing those was its ferocity, and the fear induced in its victims.

“What is that?!” someone screamed.

“What does it look like?!” another shouted. “IT’S A FUCKING DINOSAUR!”

Tanner was grateful to hear somebody point that out, for he was questioning his senses. How could one not when looking at an honest-to-God T-rex?

Bradley knew better than anyone of the existence of the beast. If he did not trust his eyes, he had to at least trust the nerves in his body… while it was still intact.

The sight of their coworker being crushed in the Rex’s mouth completed the group’s quick descent into panic. Hindered by fright, confusion, and alcohol-induced haziness, people clumsily ran in all directions.

Self-preservation was first and foremost on everyone’s minds, no matter the cost. People were knocked to the ground by those who were more agile and determined. Others took tumbles thanks to their own lack of coordination. The many rows of folding chairs served as obstacles, slowing the T-rex’s buffet line in its retreat.

The Rex took advantage. Demonstrating its anger, it did not only seek to consume, but to kill. PERIOD.

Tanner threw his hands over his face and cried out as the giant three-toed foot swung in his direction like a wrecking ball. He heard the CRASH and was lifted off the ground momentarily by the resulting vibration.

In that same moment, another man screamed, then instantly went silent as the foot touched down.

Tanner opened his eyes. The tail was swaying over his head. It darted out of view as it moved west, having stepped over him. He noticed a wetness on the back of his neck and shoulders. He turned around, first watching the Rex tear into the crowd before lowering his eyes to the footprint right behind him, and the human puddle inside it.

Right then, it dawned on him that Alfredo was nowhere to be found.

The Rex snapped its jaws, stomped its feet, and lashed its tail. Each attack resulted in one of Tanner’s coworkers disappearing in a puff of red mist and body parts.

It reared its head back and huffed. Rifle shots cracked in the air. The Rex flinched briefly, then moved towards the red and blue flashing lights near the edge of town. The deputies unloaded their weapons, their target showing no signs of injury. It waded through the bullet stream, rattling the shooters with a deep bellow before utilizing its own weaponry. One of its feet pancaked the front of one of the vehicles. The deputy standing near it turned on his heels and made a run for it, leaving his partner to get munched in gruesome fashion. As the cop ran, he screamed into his radio.

Even through the distance and panic of surviving workers, Tanner could hear the cop, his voice growing more frantic as the Rex pursued him to Bengal Road.

***

“Sheriff! Dispatch! It’s coming! It’s gonna get me! HEEELLPPP!”

Sheriff McCarn rose from his desk and marched right over to Shelley’s, speaker mic in hand. She had perked up from her game of computer solitaire, unsure of what to make of Deputy Gate’s barely articulate rant.

“Gate?” McCarn said. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s a din… AAAGH!”

The transmission went dead.

“Gate?” McCarn looked at the concerned Shelley, and the rippling coffee in her mug. The shakes came fast, as if God Himself had decided to beat a pair of gigantic drumsticks on the town of Redbud.

Deputy Sean Curtis joined them in the front lobby. He felt the vibrations and studied the puzzled look on McCarn and Shelley’s faces.

“Okay, so it’s not my imagination.”

A collection of screams filled the street outside.

McCarn, naturally resting his hand over his sidearm, moved to the front exit, Sean right behind him. They opened the door and beheld the sight of absolute chaos. People, both residents and construction workers, flocked across the street.

Smashing through the post office was a Tyrannosaurus rex. Sticking out of the corner of its mouth were a pair of legs dressed in police tactical pants and boots.

“God Almighty!”

The ‘prank call’ they received earlier that evening about a killer dinosaur was TRUE!

The beast moved with a purpose, deliberately using its body weight to flatten the post office, and those who had broken through the windows to hide inside it. Many others had taken refuge in the grocery store, and were now regretting it. The Rex plowed through the north wall, igniting a fresh wave of screams, which it quickly turned to dying grunts and gags as it continued wading through the rest of the building.

Sean was shuddering next to him. He had his pistol in hand. It looked puny and worthless all of a sudden, a sentiment also felt by Sheriff McCarn.

“Shelley! Call the State Police! Tell them to get their asses over here. All of them! National Guard too!”

Chapter 22

Alan Neil calmly placed his hand on Mary’s shoulder. “Shh. It’s okay.” The words were meant to help himself as much as the agitated Triceratops.

Mary’s huffing and puffing gradually eased into a normal breathing pattern. First there was the dramatic stopping of the train, then the theft of her eggs, and most recently the rampaging of the one creature on Earth she truly feared. It had been a hell of a miserable night.

It was a sentiment felt by everyone in the valley. In many cases, it was their last.

Alan stepped out of the container and shut the door. Faith waited near the ramp, still overcoming the jitters resulting from the recent events.

“She alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, she’s calming down,” Alan said. “Poor thing’s entire world has been turned upside down. I think she’s handling it pretty well, all things considered. How ‘bout you? How are you holding up?”

Faith blew raspberries. “I’m alive. I suppose that ought to count for something.”

Alan let those words sink in. She had a damn good point. They had been a minute away from execution, saved only by the continued hubris of Roger Trill and his minions.

“It does,” he replied with a chuckle. “I guess you and I have a knack for cheating death.”

Faith joined him in his small session of stress-relief laughter. At once, they went silent, their levity spoiled by bloodcurdling yells coming from the woods. The noises mutated into sounds of struggle and pain, then dissipated into silence.

Faith gulped. “I hope so…”

Sounds of “Oh, Jesus! Oh, God!” preceded the appearance of two surviving Trill employees. During the Rex attack, they had retreated into the relative safety of the woods, running for their dear lives. Now, they were running OUT with the exact same urgency.

“Run! Run!” one of them shouted.

Those words were also yelled by Alan after seeing the Drago spring from the tree line. Bleeding from its middle, it raced after the two men, having slaughtered all the others who managed to escape the Tyrant.

Its injuries did not inhibit its speed. What they did do was enhance its determination.

The Drago came off the ground as though launched by a catapult. It came down on the first of the two workers, its two-hundred-and-fifty-pound mass splintering his shoulder blades and some ribs. Leaving the man writhing on the ground, the Drago went after the second one. The Trill employee was rammed to the ground, where the next phase of his suffering quickly followed.

Chunks of tissue came off his back in long, thick strands. The Drago dug its front limbs into the bloody trenches, outlining the basic shape of its victim’s spinal cord.

The other employee attempted to crawl away in hopes that the beast was too distracted to notice. It wasn’t. After inflicting the killing blow on its current subject, the Drago returned to the one with the fractured bones.

“NO! NO! GET AWAY!”

The man rolled to his back and put his arms up, making it easy for the Drago to bite down on them and pull them right out from the roots. It watched the pathetic armless trunk wriggling like an earthworm dying in hot sunlight, pumping rivers of hot blood from his joints.

When the movement came to a dead end, the Drago turned around and laid eyes on the last two humans in the area.

“Alan?” Faith whispered.

He hastily tried to come up with an answer for her unspoken question of what to do. The Drago took a few steps in their direction, leaning forward in preparation for a burst of speed.

Alan pushed Faith up the ramp. “Get in there with Mary!”

“But what about you?”

Alan didn’t say anything. There was no need to. His answer was evident in his actions. Even if they both hid with Mary, the Drago would wait nearby. Anyone who might come by would be ambushed. Alan was not going to stand for that. The Drago’s reign of terror was going to end here and now.

He picked up one of the discarded submachine guns previously carried by one of the now-deceased mercenaries. He pointed it at the Drago and readied himself for the kickback.

“Die.”

He squeezed the trigger. It did not budge. Alan squeezed again. And again, it did not budge.

The Drago howled and came at him.

“Shiiit!” Alan tossed the useless weapon and ran for the nearest thing that resembled protection. The remaining State Trooper Interceptor was fifteen feet away. Its hood had been smashed by the Rex’s tail, rendering the vehicle useless as anything except a temporary hiding place. He cursed himself for his ineptness with firearms. It had not occurred to him that the safety would be on. All he knew of the deadly tools was what he had seen on TV and witnessed on the island. He had assumed it was like the tranquilizer pistol: just point and shoot. “Should’ve freaking gone into the damn container with Faith!”

He pulled the back passenger door open and slipped inside.

The Drago extended its arms and parted its jaws, announcing its arrival with a deafening shriek.

Cursing through chattering teeth, Alan pulled the door shut. The latch came within a couple of inches of its destination before one of those three-fingered reptilian hands slipped in the way. Alan clung to the door handle with every ounce of strength in his body. The Drago’s fingers coiled, their clawed tips marking the inside of the door. It widened the gap enough to squeeze its snout through the entryway.

“Not me! You. Are. Not. Eating. ME!” Alan tugged with both hands. His attacker pushed its feet against the ground, its superior strength pressing it further into the doorway.

Every vein in Alan’s arms and forehead swelled near to bursting. He felt the handle slipping from his grasp. The odds were inching away from his favor.

“DAMN IT!”

With the battle lost, Alan lunged across the back seat and grabbed the right passenger door to escape through the other side. The Drago whipped the door open and struck like a king cobra.

Alan hollered, the nerves around his right ankle lighting up like Christmas trees. The Drago, keeping its jaws locked around his foot, pulled backwards. Alan’s body stretched like a tug-of-war rope. His hands remained wrapped around the door handle with the same intensity as his prayers.

It was starting to look like his luck had run out.

Faith could hear the incessant growling outside. Having more encounters with the Drago than she cared for, she knew very well the sounds it made when exerting energy.

She put her hands over her ears. The sound dulled, but the pain in her gut worsened. She could not stand by and let Alan be slaughtered. The Drago had wreaked enough hell on her tonight. It knew what kind of fear it invoked. It was as potent as its physical weapons. One was far less likely to challenge it when scared to the bones.

No more.

She uncovered her ears and stood tall.

“Wish me luck,” she said to Mary. “I’m gonna need it.”

With that said, she dashed out of the container and made a right turn. The Drago was at the police Interceptor, tugging on Alan’s leg like a dog with a sock.

He was clinging to something, but he would not last much longer. At best, he had a few seconds left.

Faith glanced at the ground around her in search of anything she could use. Her eyes settled on the deceased mercenary Keller’s shotgun.

She snatched it off the ground, pumped it, and ran at the Drago.

“HEY!”

Its violent motions ceased after hearing the familiar voice of the female human who had managed to evade it throughout the evening. It released Alan’s foot and looked at her. Blood-stained lips bared equally red blood and teeth.

Faith bared her own teeth. “What are you waiting for? I’m right here! Come at me, ya son of a bitch! Bring your worst!”

The Drago accepted the challenge. Its legs moved in wheeling motions. In one quick moment, it cut the distance between it and her by half.

Faith’s entire world flashed before her eyes. In a single millisecond, she saw her mother, her brothers, her FATHER.

Her choice was made. She planned to live and come home, and anything standing in the way of that was going to lose.

She raised the shotgun.

BOOM!

The Drago’s chest opened up. The beast let out a scream and reeled backward. It hit the ground and began writhing in the same manner as its many victims. Blood gushed from its chest and mouth, its howls turning to gurgles as its lungs filled with blood.

It lifted its head and pointed its snout at Faith. Even with a gaping hole in its chest, it still longed to tear into her. It was a satisfaction it would never feel.

What it felt instead was a load of buckshot to the face and the sweet release of death.

Faith let the shotgun fall from her hands. A rush of victory swept over her. It was a meager rush compared to that caused by the consolation of seeing Alan waving to her from the vehicle.

Smiling, she ran to him.

Alan was seated upright, his hands grasping his injured foot. “Thank God you’re better with guns than I am.”

She smiled. “Tell you what: stay alive, and when you’re feeling better, I’ll take you to the range where my dad and I used to shoot.”

Alan smiled in return. “I’d like that.” The levity was short-lived. He grunted from the pulsing pain in his foot and ankle. “Bastard got me good.”

“Here, keep your foot up. You want the wound above your heart.” Faith laid him back and guided his injured foot to the driver’s seat headrest. She inspected the wound. “You’re lucky. The artery was not severed. If it had been, you’d be bleeding a hell of a lot more.”

“I didn’t take you for a doctor,” Alan said.

“I work in construction,” Faith said. “We have more than our fair share of accidents. You need to know first aid if you’re gonna cut it in this business.”

She popped the trunk and pulled out the car’s first aid kit. As she applied several layers of bandaging to Alan’s foot, the car’s radio came alive with a frenzy of chatter.

“All units, we have an emergency in the town of Redbud, located in the San Zechariah Valley. We’re receiving reports from the local sheriff about a large animal wreaking havoc in the town. Multiple casualties, including officers down.”

“Large animal?” a trooper responded. “Large animal, like what? A moose? Cattle? Some escaped zoo animal? Not a lot out that way that can do that sort of damage.”

There was a short delay before the dispatcher replied. “They’re saying it’s a, uh, dinosaur. A T-rex.”

Another delay.

“Are you for real?” someone else said.

“The call was real. That’s all I can say,” the dispatcher replied.

“Have Trooper O’Connor check it out. He shouldn’t be too far from there anyway. I’m not sending my whole force out for some crank call about a dinosaur!” a fourth voice said.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” the dispatcher said.

Faith moaned as the all-too-familiar feeling of dread kicked back in. She had hoped maybe the mercenary Danare had gotten lucky and planted a kill shot in Drinker. If it was attacking Redbud, odds were the guy was dead. Like the Drago, the Rex held grudges, and she knew it remembered the merc from their encounters on the island.

“It’ll be ages before someone finally gets to town,” she said.

“There’s no way we can stop it,” Alan said. “Its hide is too tough. It’s too smart, too mean, and too fast. We don’t even have any weapons that will be effective against it.”

Faith shook her head. “There’s gotta be something.”

Alan palmed his own forehead. “This isn’t the movies, Faith. We’re not gonna come up with some grand invention in the next five minutes that can stop that thing. There’s no special weapon, no help, no giant super robot we can summon to save the day.”

Faith stood quiet. “Not a super robot, but…”

“What?” It was then that Alan remembered she had mentioned something about operating construction vehicles earlier. “Oh, don’t you even think about it! You’ll be killed!”

“People ARE being killed,” she replied. “Someone needs to help them. You stay here and rest your foot. Don’t move too much. I managed to stop the bleeding for now.”

“Faith!”

“See you soon.” She ran for the SUV that had arrived with the two semi trucks. The keys were still in the ignition. She started it up and floored the accelerator, leaving Alan calling her name.

She hated leaving him behind, but something had to be done. One thing was certain: if her dad was here, he would try and help the people, even at the cost of his own life.

Faith may not have been able to save him back then, but she could honor him now by keeping the same integrity he had.

Chapter 23

A sound of thunder eclipsed the screams of a hundred frightened people gathered inside the hotel. Curious townsfolk, having visited Redbud after word of a fireworks show made its way across the valley, now wished they had stayed at home. Residents who lived in a couple of neighborhoods east of the sector ran over to inspect the cause of the chaos they heard. They too wished they had remained hunkered down. It was natural for people in the valley to band together in the face of a disaster. Ten years ago, the church accidentally caught fire due to a faulty electrical circuit. Dozens of people arrived after word got out. By the time the fire department arrived, half of the flames were already doused.

When they assembled tonight, they assumed a similar incident was in progress. What they found was not a fire, but a rampaging T-rex.

Sheriff McCarn could not get a text alert out warning everyone to stay away. It seemed something was blocking the cell signal. Deputy Curtis and Dispatcher Shelley’s phones also failed to work. Only through the landlines were they able to get in touch with the state police. No longer was that an option, for the Rex had slashed the power and phone lines.

All that stood between the townspeople and the Rex was a sheriff, three deputies, and an arsenal of insufficient weapons.

Deputies Stogan and Widmark had been patrolling somewhere near the Richardsons’ farm when the radio call came in. They arrived just in time to witness the Rex ram its head through the side of the hotel. It seemed to know exactly what it was doing, for it retracted its head from the crater and rammed the building again.

“What the hell are we standing here for?” Deputy Widmark shouted at McCarn. “Get the shotguns! We need to shoot that thing!”

It came as no surprise to the sheriff that Widmark was trying to take charge. The deputy was a legend in his own mind. In every call he was involved in, he tried running the show, giving instructions to the other deputies, and taking charge of any interview on scene.

He was a man with large aspirations but with little know-how on seeing them through. Like an aspiring actor who envisioned themselves on the big screen but never attended auditions, Widmark had dreams of joining a major city police department and working his way to a narcotics detective unit. But like wannabe actors who stared at themselves in the mirror but never took action, Widmark always failed to pull the trigger on advancing his career. In all likelihood, he hoped in the back of his mind someone would come along, discover him, and offer him a job. He especially stepped up his commanding presence when other police departments and press were ever in the valley.

Even now, with a gargantuan dinosaur rampaging through town, Widmark’s number one concern was his image.

He ran into the jail with Deputy Stogan and emerged half a minute later with a bunch of Remington 12-gauge shotguns and an M4 Carbine. He shoved the rifle into McCarn’s hands and passed the shotguns to Curtis and Stogan.

“Dude, these won’t work!” Curtis said. “Our guys already unloaded into it, and look! It’s not even hurt.”

“Fine.” Widmark pumped his shotgun, clearly doubting what his fellow deputy had to say. “You stand there and let everyone get killed. Stogan and I will actually do our duty.”

Ignoring their sheriff’s plea, the two men charged the Rex. It retracted its head from the newest crater it had rammed into the hotel and looked over at the two puny humans approaching it. Stogan stopped first, second-guessing his partner’s idea of gunning the thing down. Widmark, of course, moved to within twenty feet of the thing.

He shouted some macho one-liner, which was muffled by the sound of crumbling debris, and let out the first of many shots. Stogan joined in, steadily backing away after realizing Deputy Curtis had not been bullshitting them.

The Rex pivoted left, the lead pellets bouncing off its shin like ping pong balls. Widmark fired his last shell, his machismo peeling away, revealing the true timid nature he’d always fought to suppress. He turned towards the jail and ran as fast as he could, plowing into Deputy Stogan along the way.

The Rex paused its chase to study the fallen human in front of it. Stogan moved on his elbows and heels, the intense fright blocking out any rational thought.

He screamed before his existence concluded with a SPLAT!

With the deputy’s gooey remains stuck to its heel, the Rex continued chasing Widmark.

“Oh, that fucking moron!” McCarn exclaimed. Widmark was leading the creature right to the jail. Right to HIM!

The idiot deputy ran past McCarn and Curtis and disappeared inside the building. With the Rex stampeding towards them, the two men followed him inside.

Widmark slammed the door shut and twisted the lock. He stepped into the lobby, suddenly grasping the absurdity of that action right as the beast plowed through the entire wall.

He was seized in those crushing jaws and transformed into the equivalent of a human smoothie.

Shelley leapt from her seat and joined the last surviving cops by the offices. Sensing their presence, the Rex put all of its weight behind a series of body slams. Little by little, the police station came apart.

Before long, McCarn found himself hiding in one of the jail cells adjacent to the two construction workers he had arrested earlier.

“What the hell is all the ruckus, Sheriff?” one of the stupid drunken men said.

The ceiling collapsed, providing them with an answer. The two drunks ended their laughter and joined the law enforcement officers in a unanimous scream.

Directly above them, a Tyrannosaurus rex was licking its chops.

***

Faith’s heart sank as she beheld the sight of death and destruction. Body parts littered the ground where the Tyrant had begun its reign of terror. Gathered near the Mosser trailers were the surviving coworkers, each one in a state of shock after the traumatic occurrence.

Tanner ran up to her vehicle, shouting for her to drive away before she rolled down her window and identified herself.

“Oh! Faith? What are you doing here? … You know what? Never mind! Just get out of here while you still can! I’d tell you why, but you won’t believe me.”

“A dinosaur, I know,” she replied.

Tanner stammered. “Y-yeah. How’d you know?”

“A long and crazy story,” Faith said. “One that’s still going on, as a matter of fact. I’ll tell you about it later, hopefully. For now, get these people out of here. NOW! Are the excavator keys still in the trailer?”

“Unless you forgot to turn yours in,” he said. “What are you planning to do?”

Faith reached to his shirt pocket. It was time for her to bum a cigarette off him for a change.

“Something really fucking stupid.”

Tanner read between the lines and ran to the workers. He knew Faith well enough to know there was no use in trying to talk her out of her crazy plan.

“Guys! That thing’s gonna be coming this way! We’ve gotta move!”

Confident Tanner would have everyone clear of the construction site, Faith sped into town. Like artillery fire from a distant war zone, the Rex’s footsteps echoed through the ravaged town. She steered the SUV through the gap between the liquor store and what remained of the local Taco Bell and turned left. With the street lights out, she was forced to switch on the brights.

Behind a quarter-mile of rubble and death was the Tyrant. It was smashing up the police station. The job was nearly finished, with only the back section of the building still somewhat intact. It ripped the roof and ceiling away, then gazed at the easy pickings inside.

Faith floored the accelerator and blared her horn. The Rex lifted its face from the building and laid eyes on the approaching SUV. Faith cut the wheel slightly to the left, sideswiping the Rex’s ankle before making a sharp turn to the west.

Infuriated, the Rex abandoned the snacks in the jail in favor of getting revenge on the offending driver.

Faith repeatedly glanced at her rearview mirror, making sure to keep enough distance between herself and her pursuer while not risking the animal abandoning the chase. It stepped into the open valley and broke into a run.

The sight of such a large animal moving so fast and angrily almost shattered her willpower. Fighting against the urge to fly at a hundred miles an hour into the next county, she led the Rex to the new neighborhood. Tanner and the others had gone. It was just her and the Rex.

She pulled up next to the trailer and dashed inside. With the earth quaking under her boots, she found the key and made a mad dash for the excavator.

The Tyrant entered the construction site. Distracted by the high beams, it went straight to smashing the SUV while its former operator made her way to a larger vehicle.

Faith climbed into the cab and started the engine. The LED lights cast a white glow on the creature. It observed the yellow and black machine, appearing mildly startled, for it had never encountered such a challenger before. Its hesitance was short-lived. Watching how Faith raised the forked bucket on the long mechanical arm, it began sidestepping, monitoring the enemy’s movement while it developed a method of attack.

Faith drove the excavator onto the most level of ground. The Rex bent its legs, watching the bucket. Intent on getting this fight over with, she rotated the arm to the right and aggressively dug the bucket into the earth. The act was successfully interpreted as a challenge.

Bellowing, the Tyrant made its move. It closed in on the excavator, jaws aimed at the glass in the middle of the cab.

She rocked the levers, raising the bucket and rotating the arm to the left as hard as she could. The bucket smacked the Rex across the face like a medieval spiked club. The beast whipped to the side, its feet twisting under its heavy weight.

It hit the ground with a devastating BOOM. Stunned and surprised, it clawed its feet at the air idly for a few moments before its senses came back in full force.

During that window of opportunity, Faith repositioned the excavator for her follow-up attack. She brought the bucket over the creature’s body, then drove it down with every inch of force the machine could muster.

The Rex’s head and tail shot upward, its body forming a near-perfect U-shape as the metal teeth entered its ribcage. It smacked its head against the ground in agony, feet rising to rake at the unnatural foe.

Faith fought to keep the bucket pressed down. She was in awe of the situation. Her plan was going better than expected. Even as she drove over here, she could feel the devil on her shoulder pressuring her to save her own skin and let the townspeople fend for themselves, that she had no chance of stopping the Tyrant. But here she was, drawing blood from its hide.

“I liked you better when you were extinct.”

She grabbed the lever to rotate the cab and drag the bucket’s teeth across the Rex’s body. With a wound stretching a third of its overall length, it would certainly bleed out.

The idea came half-a-second too late. The beast swung its foot one more time, successfully catching the boom arm of the excavator and knocking it away. Freed from the edged weapon, the Rex rolled to its feet.

Faith tried backing the vehicle away in hopes of positioning herself for another haymaker. A second standoff began. The Rex inhaled, its fractured ribs causing discomfort. The pain only enhanced its resolve. There was no satisfaction like that of slaying an enemy who had managed to draw blood.

“You gonna stand there or what?” Faith muttered.

She wondered if the beast heard her, because it came charging a second later.

As she had done before, Faith waited until it came back within striking distance, then swung the arm.

The Rex dug its heels into the ground, bringing itself to a sudden stop. Faith cursed as the bucket passed in front of its face. It lunged, wrapping those powerful jaws around the arm and bucket cylinder. The cab shook, the treads failing to pull the excavator from the creature’s grasp.

It kept those jaws locked, the tips of its teeth chipping against the steel limb. The hydraulics creaked as they slowly succumbed to the crushing force.

Faith lit the cigarette she had lifted off Tanner. She needed it badly right now. Had she thought of it sooner, she would have taken a moment to grab a beer from one of the coolers and chugged it down before committing to this lunacy. Anything that could help calm her nerves would be appreciated right now.

She was in major trouble.

***

Alan eased himself out of the police vehicle. In the minutes following Faith’s departure, he felt sicker than ever. The headstrong woman was up against an enemy more powerful than anything God had put on this earth in its five-billion-year history. Maybe her plan would work, maybe it wouldn’t. All Alan knew was he could not sit by and let it happen.

He cried out with each step on his injured foot as he made his way to the semi truck. He stopped by the ramp and glimpsed at Mary.

“I’m sorry to get you into this,” he said. “But that thing needs to be stopped.”

He lifted the ramp and shut the doors. Grimacing, he pulled himself into the cab of the vehicle and started its engine. The headlights cast a long white glow into the valley, illuminating Alan’s path as he sped towards Redbud.

***

“That all you got?”

Faith felt as though she was on a roller coaster seat. The excavator rocked forward and back, then side to side, and forward and back again. The Rex was merciless in its attack. No matter how much power Faith put into the accelerator, she could not break free from its grip.

Fed up with the failed tactic, and observing how the Rex pulled against the arm every few seconds, she came up with a new solution: going forward.

She monitored the creature’s motions, then drove forward as it began to pull back. The Rex, anticipating fierce resistance, ended up tripping over itself when all of the excavator’s weight came TOWARDS it.

It let go of the arm and fought to regain its balance. Faith kept going until the base struck the Rex’s legs. For the second time, she managed to knock it to the ground. The only problem was she could not follow through on the attack as she did last time. The hydraulics were crushed, the arm and bucket locked in a half-bent position.

“Crap! CRAP!”

The Tyrant was quick to get back on its feet, now more pissed off than ever. It moved to the left of the excavator and lunged. One of its feet came down on the tracks, ripping them off the rollers. At that moment, Faith’s weapon was essentially dead in the water. Its fighting capabilities were severely limited and its ability to move was gone.

She felt the machine tilt to the left. Gasping in terror, she ducked as low as she could. The Tyrant’s head came through the cab, ripping the frame and shattering all windows. It secured a grip and pulled away.

When Faith looked up, the ceiling was gone. Panting, she grabbed the controls and rotated the cab to put the crooked arm between her and the beast. It spat out the pieces of metal and attacked the arm.

Right away, the excavator began shaking again.

Faith took advantage of the distraction and threw herself out over the right side. She came down on the tracks and leapt to the ground. She sprinted for the trailer. With hiding and escaping guaranteed to result in her being devoured, her best option was to start up the bulldozer and resume the fight.

A heavy impact made her look over her shoulder. The Rex knocked the excavator over and tore the arm free. Holding the mechanical limb in its mouth, it watched the human making a run for the small shelter.

“Ohhh, shit-shit-shit-shit-shiiiit!”

It stepped over its defeated foe and came after her. Faith felt her heart threatening to leap through her throat with each pounding footstep.

Getting into the bulldozer was a lost cause. Her only hope to prolong her life was to get inside the trailer.

She darted through the open doorway and went behind the foreman’s desk.

BAM!!!

The entire front of the trailer burst into pieces as though struck by a rocket. The Tyrant’s head came through the newly widened gap and panned left to right. With a few sniffs, it tracked down Faith’s scent.

Sweeping with its chin, it removed a few pieces of tile, uncovering its victim. Faith, hands on her head, said her prayers and awaited the inevitable.

The Tyrant’s jaw yawned open and lowered over her body.

A blaring horn and the flash of bright headlights alerted it to a new contender arriving on site.

Faith opened one of her eyes. Flying at the Rex was one of the semi trucks belonging to Roger Trill. With all of his men dead, only one person could have been behind the wheel.

“Alan!”

The horn went off again.

The Rex moved away from the trailer to take on this new foe. It went into a run, tucking its head down to ram the semi like a rhino.

Alan pulled the truck over to the side, allowing for the side of the trailer to absorb the impact. The Rex connected, battering its target and rocking everything inside.

By the time Faith fully climbed out of the rubble, Alan was out of the truck and had made his way around to the back. He opened the door, lowered the ramp, and backed away.

The Tyrant arrived on the other side. It stood tall, the lights from the semi’s LEDs casting its enormous shadow over Alan.

A rumbling from within the container gave it pause. Intense footsteps gave away the presence of another large beast. The Rex took a step back and waited for this new participant to reveal itself.

An agitated Mary backed out of the container. The Tyrant instantly roared its challenge. As it had done for years, it exerted its dominance over the other dinosaurs on the island. All other species cowered in its presence. Those who dared to challenge it were stricken with fear, adding to the ease in which the Rex overpowered them.

Recognizing the trike’s features and smell, it knew it to be one of the many animals who ran when faced with those jaws. The Rex sounded off another roar, expecting the same result.

To its astonishment, the trike did not run. Instead, she roared back.

The Rex cocked its head back. It did not expect such a response. It amped up its warning by moving in on Mary with large imposing strides. She did not run. Roaring again, she met the Rex head-on.

The two beasts collided, the predator slowing its speed after realizing the trike was not backing down. The tips of her horns grazed its knees, causing the Rex to back away.

Another series of roars were exchanged. The Tyrant issued its warning to the herbivore, only to get told off by a thundering response.

Like her human companions, Mary had found new purpose in life. She would not allow fear of the Tyrant to come between her and her precious offspring. She would go to the ends of the earth to protect them, even if it meant her death.

But Mary had no intention of dying today.

She dipped her nose and pointed her horns. In the blink of an eye, she had thousands of pounds of momentum behind her weaponry.

She closed the distance and plunged one of those horns deep into the Tyrant’s midsection. The predator raised its head, not calling with an ear-piercing roar, but a high-pitched cry. The Triceratops pushed it back, putting all of its effort into driving that horn deeper.

The Tyrant backpedaled, feeling its insides splitting apart. Bones splintered, veins burst, and stomach contents spilled into its abdomen.

Shifting its weight, it managed to stomp one of its feet down on Mary’s face, halting her attack and pinning her to the ground. It freed itself from the horn and went on the attack. It reached over her head to bite her neck.

Sensing her vulnerability, Mary pushed off the ground. Her head came up, the frill blocking the Tyrant’s jaws. They closed over the bony shield, inflicting only a few scratches and fractures. It tried to hold on as Mary moved to the side, her feet scraping the ground as she prepped for her next attack.

Sensing the danger, and knowing it did not have the leverage to keep her back with its current grip on her frill, the Tyrant let go. Desperation and exhaustion kicked in. It drove its jaws down over her nose horn, drawing blood through the flesh wound around the nostrils. It dug its feet into the ground in an attempt to hold the trike off.

A whirling of Mary’s massive head foiled that tactic. Like a fencer parrying an opponent’s attack, Mary pried herself free of the jaws. All four of her legs went to work.

The Rex, off balance from the parry, had no time to get out of her path. Both horns plunged deep into its torso.

It looked to the heavens to let out another cry of pain. This time, no sound came out. Only blood. Its lungs deflated, having been pierced by the deadly horns. The Triceratops twisted the bony spears, inflicting as much internal damage as possible.

All the Rex could do was bleed. It tried to growl, like a bully trying to save face after being beaten by one of its long-time victims.

Sensing her enemy’s strength waning, Mary removed her horns. Drinker wobbled on buckling legs, blood free-falling from its three wounds. It looked at the trike and extended its jaws, unwilling to concede defeat.

A waterfall of bloody vomit poured from its mouth. It was the last thing the Tyrant would ever taste – its own insides.

Its legs and heart gave out. With a final BOOM, it hit the ground. Faith ran across the field, finding Alan collapsed less than a hundred feet from the battle.

“Oh, my God! Alan! You alright?”

He sat up and managed to smile. “Considering there’s nothing left out here that wants to eat us, I’d say, pretty good.”

They shared a laugh and an embrace.

Behind them, the great Triceratops Mary roared in triumph. The Tyrant was dead.

Chapter 24

Fifteen minutes after the battle, Sheriff McCarn and Deputy Curtis made their way to the construction site, where they found Alan, Faith, and the dead T-rex. An hour after that, State Police and National Guard units flooded the area. During the investigation, Danare’s satellite and cell disruptor was located and shut down, enabling use of cell phones in the valley once again.

McCarn, after speaking with countless other personnel, walked over to where Faith and Alan were seated. The latter had received some proper medical attention for his foot and was waiting for an ambulance ride to the hospital.

“Hate to say it, but we’re all in for a long night, and then a long day tomorrow. The governor will be visiting, and there’s talk of the federal government starting their own investigation.”

“As long as nothing tries to kill us, I think we can live with that,” Faith said.

McCarn nodded. “So, I guess next time someone calls my office about a dinosaur outbreak, I’d better listen.”

Faith smirked. “What are the odds of that happening, right?”

McCarn gave a weak smile. All this time, the people of the valley blamed the workers at Mosser for changing their home forever. As it turned out, they were trying to build lives for people. The negative change came from a crazed businessman who thought he could control nature. If there was any consolation, it came from knowing the bastard would never harm another soul ever again.

His car and body had been discovered by some troops. Next was an excruciatingly long investigation.

Faith looked at Alan. “So what happens now? With Mary and the others?”

“With a little public support, I can probably get the government to ship them back to the island,” he said. “And with a little luck, we can make it so nobody goes there and disturbs their ecosystem again.”

Faith smiled at that. “Considering the amount of press we’re about to get, I think we can pull that off.”

Alan looked her in the eye. “We?!”

She squeezed his hand and stood up. “Mind if I borrow your phone?”

He placed it in her hand. “I’ll be right here.”

“Don’t run off,” she joked, getting a “HA!” out of him in response. She dialed a number and put the phone to her ear, breathing a sigh of relief when she heard “Hello?” on the other end.

“Hi, Mom.”

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I

“Huh!”

Arien's eyes cracked open at the sound of outlying pulse rifle fire shattering through the night air. The blasts sounded as if they had originated back at the main Exile encampment, where Deckard had concentrated most of his forces in a series of crude tents in the center of a savanna. Seconds after the original pulse blasts broke out into the air, return fire was heard, telling Arien that there was surely a battle happening back at the Exile settlement– an ambush perhaps.

“Did someone get past our scout patrols?” Juane asked, stirring out from a crude tent beside Arien, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he sluggishly searched for his firearm.

“Someone from the Colony?” another mercenary named Matthias asked, running through the trees into their sentry post. “No, it couldn't be, could it? How would they have found us?”

“It wouldn't be the damn Colony!” Arien snapped impatiently. “Use your head, Matthias! Even if they wanted to attack, they would be too honorable to enact an ambush. You know that's not their style. The Colony is very archaic in that sense.”

“Neolithics?” Juane asked, readying his battle-worn XR-90.

“Would a neolithic know how to use a pulse rifle?” Arien asked, offering him a blunt look. “Hell, how would a neolithic even get its hands on one? No, this is something else.”

Arien had developed an odd friendship with both Juane and Matthias over time, due to reoccurring scouting patrols and sentry duty where the three were often assigned together. Throughout their various assignments, the trio had matured into an unlikely friendship, although Arien often found herself annoyed by the pair's constant stupidity and lack of ambition for advancement.

“Well we were the three on patrol!” Matthias went on, shouldering his lesser battered XR-90 as a trace of fear escaped his eyes. “If someone from the Colony, the Neolithics, or somewhere else slipped past us, well, let's just say it'd be better if we just packed up and left right now. Tanner will have our heads on a stick faster than Deckard can order it, if they find out we were at fault.”

“They'll find us,” Juane added, uncertainty causing his voice to tremble. “They have Kale. The old sage can track anything. Man's got a nose better than a bloody sauro!”

“So let's get back and take the fight to whoever is doing this!” Arien replied, already turning back toward the direction of the conflict. “Maybe Deckard won't notice we screwed up. I've spoken with him a few times before – I can sway him, especially if we turn the tide on whoever is attacking. We might even be deemed heroes, if we can prove it was one of the other sentries that screwed up. But I'm telling you, it's something else.”

“Like what, Arien?” Juane asked.

“How should I know?” Arien grumbled, shooting him an icy look. “I hate when you ask me dumb shit.”

“All right, damn!” Juane said, raising his palms in response to her sudden outrage. “Cool it, will you? I'm just as confused as you are!”

“Right,” Arien said, turning back to the sounds of the skirmish. “So let's go put an end to this.”

“Ugh,” Matthias lamented before nodding. “Let's go.”

The three took off running through the brush of jungle toward the sounds of the mysterious battle. Smacking off the darkened silhouettes of palm fronds, Arien drew her pulse pistol.

Either he'll welcome us back with open arms, she thought, silently praying that she was right and they didn't botch their patrol, or we'll be dead before the Triassic sun comes up. Either way, now is the chance to prove ourselves.

#

Surprised by his opponent's hidden talent of hand-to-hand combat, Delios Deckard swung a punch at Sperra, his former third-in-command subordinate. Sperra blocked the blow expertly, countering with a swift punch to Deckard's unprotected ribs. Deckard fell backward, knocking over a table in his command tent and sending pillaged loot all over the canvased tent base. Managing an exasperated cough, he peered vengefully at his opponent.

“I said – I'm leaving, Deckard!” Sperra breathed hard, finishing him with a sideways kick to the jaw. As her former warlord lay bleeding and cupping his nose, Sperra finished with, “And I'm taking what's rightfully mine, since I was the one that salvaged them!”

“You think the Colony would welcome you back with open arms?” Deckard smiled, bleeding profusely from his nostrils as he applied pressure to the wound. “That salvaged shit is a drop in the bucket to them. But out here, in the wild, where Neolithics and herreras are lurking around every turn – it's everything for us. You take those items, and you'll doom us all! And you know I'll be comin' for you.”

“Well, I guess we'll have to fix that pesky dilemma right now,” Sperra replied, brandishing an X2-20 from an end table and aiming it at the warlord. “Sorry, Deckard. But I don't feel like looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life from your wicked band of fu –”

A pulse blast sailed out from the other end of the tent, bathing the interior in a sudden glow. Sperra ducked instinctively as the bright ray sailed above her, scorching through the other side of the tent to the outlying encampment. As she rolled behind a toppled crate of gear, Tanner and two guards barged through at the other end, pulse rifles at the ready. Deckard grumbled, scrambling behind the end table, knocking over prized Neolithic tribal horns in the process.

“There she is!” cried one of the warriors.

“Kill her!” Tanner cried, jamming his safety off.

“Kill her now!” Deckard echoed, snapping up an X2-20 from a hidden pouch and sending additional pulse blasts at his former third-in-command. “Kill her! She's stolen our precious detonators! The sauros will pick us off in no time if we don't have those damned things to deploy!”

The canvas tent became ablaze with trading rounds of pulse shards, generating a cacophony heard around for miles. The acidic blasts melted through the tent like holes in cheese, resulting in frantic screams as the blasts found their marks from warriors outside as they scrambled for cover. Deckard frowned as Sperra quickly dispatched Tanner's duo of inexperienced guards, and rolled ahead to engage as he kicked over another table for cover.

A young female mercenary appeared at the other entrance where Sperra was hoping to escape. Commanding Sperra to halt, Deckard saw a quick blast from his opponent's weapon sail into the woman's skull, killing her instantly. Sperra regained her firing stance, slowly backing up out of the tent, while sending strategic return fire at Deckard and Tanner. A second later, she had vanished into the folds, letting the frayed opening flap shut as the tent structure started to buckle.

“Put the whole bloody camp on high alert!” Deckard yelled, standing and rushing to the exit. “We need those detonators back, Tanner! And now!”

“Right away, sir!” Tanner yelled, helping the warlord to his feet before exiting the tent, barking orders out to the nearest soldiers. Deckard ran out of the other end, angered that Sperra was nowhere in sight. He scanned over the aisles of tents, only to see emboldened young Exile recruits rushing for their weapons and confused patrols. Some of the tents were ablaze from the volatile weapon fire exchange, and a handful of warriors were wounded and crying.

Sperra, you've made a public mockery of me in front of everyone. Now you will pay!

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Table of Contents

- TYRANT
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24