To Slay A Dinosaur: Part III

J A  C K scaled the rest of the miniature plateau, falling twice and hitting the same outcropping he’d hid from the ‘triceratops’ on, and when he made it to the top he found a small cave. About twenty feet wide, and twelve feet high at its tallest. Angular, some rocks about half his height off the ground. One wide enough for him to sleep on.

He got some of the tall, straight plants – hard-barked, black, some nine feet tall near the river but the ones near the cave no taller than him – and built a fire. He cut his hand, and it was exhausting, and he only had success after the sun had already gone down.

But now, at least, he could keep away the bugs. He’d only had to kill one – a two-foot centipede. The others were all small enough for him not to notice, or scared away.

There was a puddle in the corner of the cave. Six feet around and three deep. He submerged himself in it, the closest to a bath he’d get here.

He’d drank some scummy, opaque water from it. It tasted like rotten eggs – sulfur.

That was all he got that day. He was starving. He was tempted to eat the big centipede, but he couldn’t force himself to so he threw it out.

He’d found a particularly large boulder, maybe as much as he weighed, and rolled it over to the mouth of the cave. If anything bigger than a cat tried to get in, it wouldn’t be able to dislodge the massive stone. The only thing he could think of were the Jurassic Park Raptors, the man-sized ones that opened doors. He didn’t know if they were native to this area, or if they were smart enough to lure him out in some way. But they couldn’t get through the boulder – or, at least, if they tried he’d hear them and have time to ward them away with the fire.

He had only his torn shorts and shirt. His habit of going straight to sleep after School paid off for the first time.

He looked at his feet, scarred and bruised.

If only he slept in his shoes.

A sudden urge hit him, one he hadn’t yet felt.

He stood up and held his stomach. He thought about the water in the corner – could he go in there? That was his bathing and drinking water for now. The smell would permeate the cave, which already stank to begin with.

He looked to the boulder-door of his new ‘home’.

“Do I risk going out there to take a piss?” He thought, listening.

The same sounds as the previous night. He had yet to identify where they came from. He would, if he lived long enough.

Oh well. If he had to fight for his life, he could at least try to maintain some basic decencies.

He moved the boulder and walked outside. The ledge outside the mouth of the cave, if he remembered, was as long as he was tall.

So he stood directly in front of the cave’s opening, and hoped the arch was long enough to reach over the edge. This one relief, as it was, was more relieving than anything else he’d ever suffered through.

So relieving it was, in fact, that when he heard the Insectile chattering behind him he didn’t turn around to see what it was. He only saw it after he turned, and even then was in a relaxed enough state to figure out the danger he was in.

It was tall enough to look him in the eye. A little more than twice his height from nose to tail. Eleven feet, maybe. Its head was leathery black, its eyes green and glittering with that kind of incomprehensible intelligence the brighter animals have. He’d seen that same look in cats and pigs before, supposedly fairly bright creatures.

The head and neck were leathery and black. Ridges on the snout and ending just before the eye gave it the permanent scowl of an Eagle or Falcon.

The feathered body was grey-white and with black spots, like a Snow Leopard. Its clawed wings were apparently folded against it. Its tail had black rings and ended with a sort of fan-like structure at the end. It was broomhandle-stiff. Balance, maybe? Its legs.....

Its legs were the same as its head. Featherless and black. Its feet were the source of the chittering, clicking sound.

On the first toe that Jack could see, the monster was equipped with a long sickle-shaped claw. It clicked and clacked against the ground, but it didn’t seem to be enough to be making the sounds, at least not all of them.

It hit him then, when he saw other white-black forms moving about in the shadows, that this animal was not alone. And they were communicating with the stone-clacks. That, or trying to distract him.

And succeeding.

It hit him all at once when all five of them were in his field of vision. They were like Hawks, all of them. They sprinted on thin, taut legs, leaping from rock-to-rock as though they had no thought in the matter. They made low, hissing noises and occasionally whooping calls halfway between a Hyena’s laugh and a Robin’s Chirp.

He dove into the cave and seized a burning branch, turning back to see one of them at the opening.

He swung the flames, back and forth, shouting and screaming and trying to scare it away. In the dim and flickering light he saw its curved teeth, its drooling mouth and its extended wings. The three-clawed, black hands hidden in the wings had palms facing each other, like a bear’s arms. Trying to bring him in, to clutch him and kill him. To gnaw him, get its serrated teeth on him.

Or those Claws.

It shrieked, a low sound like a crocodile could make if it could scream in agony. He saw it wrench its head back, the flames driving it backwards. Into the darkness, from where it seemed to belong.

He heard them, whooping and hissing and occasionally shrieking. Not like anything from the movies. Not like anything before. Not like Dinosaurs. Like monsters from his worst dreams come to life and trying like all Hell to get to him.

He took the nearest opportunity to slam the rock back down in front of the opening, to block them out, please, God, make it work make them go away please God I don’t wanna die tonight –

In the little crevice left between him and the hot, moist night, a claw swept through the opening and grazed him.

He was driven back, sprawling, into the dirt. He almost scrambled into the fire and for a brief, slow-motion-moment, he thought it might go out.

Please, no, not to be alone with those sounds, please…

The fire held. The only miracle he’d ever experienced in his life had just happened.

Outside, the black-headed things with their foot-scythes and balancing tails and salivating mouths continued their cacophony. They continued, letting him get no sleep. Their stench, something like a pigeon or dirty, wild bird, crept in through the air and invaded his shelter.

He fell to his side, staring into the fire and clutching his ears and trying to think. He couldn’t. The monsters, they were drowning out his thoughts. Seeping into his mind and corroding his sanity.

He clenched his eyes shut and for the rest of the night he begged whatever had put him here to bring him back.