Footprints of Thunder (59 page)

These dinosaurs were not like the trophy Carl and the guys had killed. These were bigger, and deep green. They were angling up the side of the hill but away from them. Ellen could see the animals were traveling on all fours, measuring ten to fifteen feet at the shoulders. Three horns protruded from each forehead and an armored collar was around each neck. Their long tails were tipped with three spikes. Ellen leaned into Rip-man and whispered in his ear.

“Shouldn’t we-get out of here?”

“Relax, they’re just big cows. They don’t eat people. Probably never seen a person before. There’s a meadow over that way. That’s where they used to be. For some reason they seem to be on the move. Let ‘em pass.”

They lay in the grass as the dinosaurs came closer, their noise now a cacophony. Despite Ripman’s reassurance Ellen’s apprehension remained until the last one disappeared into the trees. Ellen started to rise, but Ripman held her arm pulling her back down.

“We’ve got a problem. If we move straight ahead we cut across the path of those dinosaurs.”

Ellen and Angie looked at each other, neither seeing the problem.

“Those dinosaurs are on the move for some reason. They were happily stuffing themselves with grass and ferns yesterday.”

“You know what they say about greener pastures,” Angie offered.

“Maybe. Maybe they’re moving because they don’t want to be somebody’s lunch.”

Ellen blanched at the thought of whatever might eat one of those dinosaurs for lunch.

“Well then, let’s head back the other way and find another way around.” Angie looked to Ellen for support.

“If we go that way we head back toward Carl and the guys,” Ellen reasoned. “If we go in the direction the dinosaurs came from we could be heading right toward whatever was hunting them. But if we cut across …”

“I see,” Angie said, her mind weighing the risks. “If we cut across we better move fast, since we don’t know if something is following the herd, and how far back it might be.”

Ripman seemed impressed and sat quietly, letting them analyze the options. Angie decided first.

“I’d rather be eaten by a dinosaur than raped by a bunch of assholes. I say our best bet is to cut straight across as fast as we can and get the hell out of this place. Remember Coop!” Angie, spoke the name sadly. Ellen realized Angie was depressed over more than a senseless death. She had cared for Coop. Seeing how Angie used her sexuality to manipulate men, it had never occurred to Ellen that Angie might have feelings for those men. Because Ellen had loved only one man, she assumed Angie was the same.

“Let’s go for it,” Ellen said to Ripman.

Ripman was nodding his head in appreciation for their clear thinking. “El-ah-mental,” he cheered.

He led off through the trees at his usual pace, but this time with occasional pauses to listen. Ellen and Angie listened too, but depended more on their eyesight. The trees were far enough apart to see quite a distance. But Ripman was right, you’d hear a dinosaur before you’d see one in this forest.

They were nearly across the track of the herd when Ripman slowed to a walk, then stopped, dropping to his knees, his eyes riveted on the ground. Ellen and Angie approached slowly, still watching for dinosaurs. Even before they reached him they could see a large pool of blood. Ellen immediately thought of John, but realized it was too much blood for him. It formed part of a trail that angled off through the trees, one corresponding to the dinosaurs’ path. Suddenly Ripman’s head snapped up and his face went pale.

“Come on. Run.”

Ellen and Angie followed Ripman, running and struggling to keep him in sight. They trusted his instincts. As they ran, they heard something coming—something big.

Cubby and John were awakened by the roar of a motorcycle engine. John felt his insecurity come back. He immediately assumed he cut the wrong wire or tube, and Cubby obviously agreed. Ripman would have blamed John too. When Cubby shot John an accusing look, he protested, “Hey, it could have been you, Cubby.”

The engine was being revved, and every time it slowed it sputtered. Finally it sputtered once more and died. Cubby and John left their hiding place to get closer to the clearing, John crossing his fingers and hoping it wasn’t one of the bikes he had disabled. The engine roared to life again but died almost instantly.

When the boys got closer they saw the bikes had been moved; they were now parked around the still-smoldering fire. To John’s relief he couldn’t tell which bikes he had worked on. He could recognize only the deputy’s gaudy blue one; the rest were mostly chrome and engine.

All four of the men were crowded around one bike. After a few minutes one of them climbed on and jumped down on the starter. After three kicks the engine roared. The rider revved it to keep it going while another one did something on the engine. It died again. The rider climbed off angrily and began yelling at the one working on the engine. They traded places and tried it again. It took eight kicks to start and died almost immediately. It didn’t start again after that.

Carl, his leg bandaged with a folded shirt, shouted the guys down and then took control. After they argued for a while, Carl and two others picked up their rifles and headed into the forest. The third man picked up his rifle and watched the others go, then he went back to the bike and kicked it three times till it rocked over onto its side.

Cubby pulled on John’s sleeve, and they slipped deeper into the forest.

“Do you want to take him?” Cubby asked.

“How? He’s watching now, and he’s got a rifle. We couldn’t get far enough across that meadow to hit him with that pistol before he’d plug us both. Besides, I’ve never shot a pistol before, have you?”

“Once, except it wasn’t like this one exactly.” Cubby doubtfully looked over the gun. “I think this is the safety,” he said weakly. “Okay. Let’s follow the others then. Once we’re sure Ripman got your mom and her friend away safe, we’ll head for my house.”

They detoured wide around the end of the clearing and headed in the direction they had seen Carl lead the other men. With Cubby in the lead, they moved quickly, nearly jogging so they could catch up. Soon they spotted one man in the distance, carrying his rifle behind his neck with his arms looped over the stock on one side and the barrel on the other. He looked lackadaisical, as if he didn’t give a damn.

Cubby and John could not see the others, but when they heard a voice to their right they dropped back, easily keeping out of sight. Occasionally they caught glimpses of the other men. Carl was limping along, the wound in his leg apparently hurting but not enough to suit John. He hoped Ripman had dipped that arrow in dinosaur shit before he stuck him with it. It might give him some incurable prehistoric infection.

The sound of a jet engine stopped the men as they looked up, but the plane passed quickly and the men resumed their search. The boys soon realized the men weren’t following tracks, and they became confident that John’s mom and Ripman would get away.

When they heard a distant animal roar, the men froze and checked their rifles. Another roar sounded closer and they marked the direction and moved toward it. Knotting together in a small group, they followed Carl, who limped in the lead.

The next roar was much closer—the dinosaur was coming toward them. John spurted ahead to catch Cubby and pulled his arm to stop him.

“Let ‘em go. I hope the dino eats them.”

Cubby looked thoughtful for a minute, then nodded. “Yeah. Ripman’s long gone by now.”

Then they heard the scream—a woman’s scream.

Ripman pounded uphill and down, running full speed. Angie and Ellen soon lost him in the forest ahead. But they kept on the same path, following blindly. Ellen, ahead, quickly saw Angie was falling behind. Pounding up to the top of a rise, Ellen intended to wait for her friend. A downhill start would get her to top speed as quickly as possible. At the top Ripman’s voice came out of the tall grass.

“Get down!”

Ellen dropped down next to Ripman, disappearing into the grass. Angie was having trouble with the hill, barely trotting by the time she reached the top. Ellen pulled her down. Angie wheezed and Ellen gasped nearly as hard. Ripman lay quietly, trying to listen, shushing them over and over. When they caught their breaths, Ripman turned his head to listen to the forest.

“Won’t it follow the blood?” Ellen asked: “Why would it come after us when there’s all those dinosaurs to eat? We’re too small, aren’t we?”

Ripman, irritated by the noise of the questions, ignored Ellen for a full minute. Finally he answered, “If it’s a carnivore it’s probably following the herd because that’s its food supply, but if ir just ate one of those suckers it’s not going to be hungry.”

“So it’s not dangerous?” Angie suggested.

“It’s more dangerous to us. If it smells us it might get curious. It can always pick up the trail of that herd. A full belly means it can afford to explore, look for new food. Easier food.”

“Us,” Ellen concluded.

“Just a little cheesecake for dessert,” Angie added with a false laugh.

“Quiet,” Ripman said suddenly.

Ellen listened hard and picked out the distant sounds almost as soon as Ripman, who lay still waiting,

The density of the forest and the dinosaur’s deep brownish green coloring made the carnivore difficult to see. It walked on two powerful back legs, leaning forward so far it looked as if it would fall. Somewhere behind it was a massive counterbalancing tail. It had long forelegs, nine or ten feet in length, and a huge head that was mostly jaws. Deep breathing sounds rumbled past bloodied teeth, and it swung its head back and forth as it walked.

Ellen started to get up to run, but Ripman grabbed her arm and kept her down. Then he leaned into her and whispered, “Slowly and quietly. If you can’t keep up this time, I’ll leave you. Tell your friend.”

Ellen relayed that to Angie in a whisper, and Angie’s face fell. Ripman inched his way down the hill away from the dinosaur, moving as little grass as possible. His bow was still slung over his shoulder, but Ellen realized it would be of little use. She and Angie followed, keeping their heads below the top of the grasses. Halfway down the hill Ripman turned and padded softly through the forest, his speed and noise increasing as he put distance between himself and the dinosaur.

Again, Ellen and Angie followed, but their best speed would not keep Ripman in sight for long. Angie pressed her hand against her waist, wheezing again and slowing. Ellen trotted beside her. They settled into a low running rhythm, a pace Angie seemed able to sustain.

After a mile they heard the roar.

Ellen looked back to see the dinosaur’s head staring at them from around a tree. As they gaped in horror, the dinosaur’s mouth opened wide, and another deafening roar rattled their nerves. Angie poured the rest of her energy into her feet and picked up the pace, as Ellen, risking another look behind, saw the dinosaur in pursuit, gaining fast.

Suddenly they broke free of the forest into a small clearing. On the other side was a section of tumbled-down forest— smoke drifted up from the far side of the clearing. Ripman’s head appeared above the grass and his arms began waving. His voice drifted over the clearing. “Here, this way!”

Angie and Ellen raced across the clearing, too afraid to risk a look behind them. Ripman was waving frantically, signaling them to pass him and keep on going. As they passed, Ripman dragged a flaming bundle behind them, setting fire to the grass. When Ripman passed her at a dead run, she looked back to see the dinosaur pound through the fire, extinguishing the small flame with its massive feet. Now Ellen knew they weren’t going to make it.

Ripman made it to the fallen trees first, dodging around the massive foliage of one and climbing over the trunk.of the next, using broken limbs like a ladder. Ellen followed his lead, throwing herself over the log, panicked by the crashing sounds of the dinosaur behind her. She reached back to pull Angie down with her, only to see her friend silhouetted on the top of the tree trunk behind her, leaning forward to roll down the other side. But she never made it. Towering over Angie was the dinosaur. A nine-foot foreleg with razor sharp claws swept the length of the tree, shearing off limbs six inches thick. Angie screamed when she saw the arm coming toward her, and with a whipping motion it caught her full in the side. Her left arm, across her body, was severed above the elbow as the claws buried themselves into her torso, and it tumbled down Ellen’s side of the trunk disappearing into the grass six feet from Ellen’s face. When the dinosaur swiped Angie off the tree and threw her back in the clearing, it followed the body with a triumphant roar.

Ellen lay in the foliage under the trunk paralyzed with horror, seeing only the blood stains in the grass. Then she felt someone pulling on her, jerking her out of the foliage.

“We’ve got to go while it’s busy. It won’t take long.”

Ellen became an automaton. She followed Ripman over and under trees carelessly, her footing and grip mattered little. She tripped, fell, and fell again. Her pants and blouse tore and shredded. Her skin underneath was scratched and cut by broken limbs. She felt nothing and saw nothing except Angie’s blood in the grass.

Every time she fell she got up more slowly. Soon Ripman was helping her to her feet every time and supporting her with an arm around her waist. They worked their way across the fallen trees and to a small stand of upright trees, then back into fallen trees. Sometime after that Ripman pushed her up onto another tree with his hands on her bottom. When she reached the top she collapsed spread-eagled, her eyes in a glassy stare, her mind filled with bloody grass. This time Ripman didn’t help her off the top.

Shouts and laughter filled her ears. Slowly the bloody grass was replaced by another image. It was Carl’s laughing face. She forced her eyes to focus and realized the face was real. It was Carl and behind him were the guys. Carl smiled, showing all his teeth.

“Now, where were we?”