Crucible of a Species (25 page)

Quiet descended over the meadow as the troodon retreated into the far jungle. Two of the injured troodon still twitched but otherwise, nothing stirred in the meadow.

The group gathered around the ensign. Petrika had a hard time focusing his eyes as the sergeant helped him sit up. He stared at the mangled body of the theropod draped across the bush barely six feet away, “That was quite a shot, Sarge. I’ll be ready to go as soon as I can breathe without my chest hurting so much.”

“You don’t look too badly off. Let me help you. Let’s walk over to the stream and see if we can clean you up a bit. How’s the shoulder, can you move it?”

“My shoulder?” Petrika said as he looked down and saw the shredded garment. “Now, that’s odd isn’t it? My chest hurts but not my shoulder.” He lifted his hand to gently probe the area near the shredded flesh, “Strange, there’s no feeling at all.”

Bradley picked up the officer’s rifle while Martel helped him limp back to the stream. Martel sat the ensign down on a high clump of grass next to its flowing waters. Gently he undid the front of the shirt while looking into his eyes,
Oh, shit. I don’t like that glassy look in his eyes.

Using an antiseptic towel from the small medical kit on his belt, he gently treated the shoulder and applied a skin patch, “You’re lucky, Ensign. This could have been a lot worse. The damage seems to be superficial.”

“Thanks to you. I’m starting to feel better. We should get moving.”

“Can you move that arm yet?”

“Move it? Ah …ow, I see what you mean. It’s not that bad.”

“I’ll carry your pack. I don’t want the strap ripping that wound open but you hang onto your rifle. Keep moving that arm while you walk or its going to stiffen up.

“Let’s head out but first, everyone check your ammo. This time we’re following the stream. I’ll lead. Mr. Bradley you are a truckload of surprises. You performed so well I’m setting you up as ‘tail-end Charlie’. You earned it but make sure you watch your back.”

Martel took the lead as they waded into the knee-deep waters, eventually passing into the cool shade of the dark forest. Going was slow. They skidded and slid across the riverstone and grass lining the bottom of the stream. As soon as they passed the thick brush of the forest’s edge, they climbed out onto the dry bank and continued on a path near the stream’s edge.

The coolness and calm calls of the jungle were normal but every so often the humans caught fleeting glimpses of shadows flitting from tree-trunk to tree at the edge of their sight. Something was following them.

The forest floor rose as they neared the foot of the plateau’s cliffs echoing a waterfall’s soft roar as it penetrated the leafy canopy still too thick to permit viewing. Eventually the cooling dampness of its mist filtered in through the leaves and it was here that once again they found the fresh, three-toed tracks of the much larger albertosaurs.

The stream led them onward to the base of the cliffs and the party rested by a small pool. The steep, stone face provided a measure of safety and somewhere ahead lay the base of the same trail on which they had entered the valley only a few hours ago.

Martel set down his backpacks next to the waters of the pool. It looked cool and refreshing as he stretched the kinks out of his back. His eyes then moved towards the well-worn trail up and remembered their steep climb into the valley and the many treacherous switchbacks. He knelt down in the soft earth and turned towards the others, “I know you’re exhausted but we can’t stop, we have to get back to the camp before dark. I’m also concerned about Mr. Petrika. He seems to be getting weaker and it’s going to be hard climbing that steep trail without having to carry him.”

Martel looked over at the ensign. The young officer’s eyes were glassy and his face had a slack look. He took his handkerchief out and dipped it into the stream. The ensign continued staring off into the distance as he wiped the sweat from his face. “Hang in there, Paul. We’re on the last leg, unfortunately this is gonna be the tough part.” The ensign turned his head towards the sergeant, smiling weakly.

“Doctor, please keep an eye on the ensign. Make sure he doesn’t lose his footing …”

A piercing call filled the woods behind them. The long, low warble of a predator followed the cry.

“Bradley, watch our backs.”

Tom Bradley was already up and looking down the trail, “No need to tell me. Let’s get moving.”

Martel started up, “Try and keep up with me. Call out if anyone begins to lag.”

The path seemed steeper and the loose ground at each switchback harder to cross as they pushed up the side of the cliff with the extra load of their cold packs. The climb soon transformed from the coolness of the jungle into a dry, dusty cliff side with the now setting, but still hot, cretaceous sun beating down on them from a cloudless, blue sky.

Tom Bradley had just turned onto the forth switchback of the four-mile climb when he looked out over the valley. The steady roar of the falls set a dramatic backdrop to a narrow cloud of mist lazily drifting off across the treetops. Small flickers of color, created by the rays of the late afternoon sun, danced across rainbow colored darts of light throughout the cloud.

Exotic song filled the jungle, its sweet notes rising over the valley, gradually increasing in volume as the sun slowly set. The music occasionally mixed with discordant roars of far off predators. A call came from below and the journalist’s eyes spotted movement on the switchbacks.

All thoughts on the beauty of the scene vanished. The troodon were coming. The beasts moved quickly and their intentions were obvious. Despite its beauty, this was not home for the humans. This was a place where fierce creatures hunted daily for food and apparently had long memories with a determination to track their prey.

“We need to pick up our pace if we want to make it to the top of the plateau before they catch up with us.” Bradley pointed down trail as he spoke.

“Only as far as that switchback up there,” Martel motioned towards a brush-cleared portion of the trail above them that stood out across the face of the rocks. “If we can get up there we’ll have a clear fire zone to pick them off. Keep moving.”

The sergeant noticed that Dr. Shieve was supporting the ensign by his arm,
We haven’t even hit the steep part of the climb. Not a complaint out of the kid, I hope he can keep up.

The hot, dusty trail under their feet steepened, the gravel beneath each step was finer, softer and harder to climb. The team stopped to rest for a moment. “Come on Paul, you’re doing fine. We’re going to make it.” Dr. Shieve said using the water in her canteen to cool his forehead. “Don’t close your eyes. I know you’re tired but we have to keep moving.”

Just a moment’s rest and it was back up the steep trail. Paul stumbled on a loose rock, almost slipping over the edge before Martel grabbed his arm, “You’re doing a great job, Paul. Hang in there a little longer and we can take a break,” but the ensign didn’t respond as he continued his silent passage, moving like an automaton.

Martel spotted a clear, slightly wider area ahead where they could rest for a few moments. As he pushed forward, Susan looked down the mountain as she tried to catch her breath, “The troodon are already down there Sergeant.”

Martel swung the Pulsar off his shoulder as he turned the corner. He instantly took aim, the theropods were half across the open switchback, moving faster than hoped.

Two rapid shots cracked down the cliff face and far below a troodon flew off the trail taking a second predator along with him. A scream arose from the dinosaurs, perhaps they were beginning to understand just how deadly the humans were. By this time, Dr. Shieve and the journalist joined in the firing. The sergeant yelled over the din of noise, “Fire into the brush line above the trail if you don’t have a visible target. Some of them may manage to get through but we still have a good chance of tagging one or two with grazing fire along the cliff face.

“All right, no break time for us. Push on ahead. We have to get to the plateau before they catch up with us.”

“Hang on a second,” Bradley called out as he unshouldered his pack and handed it to the doctor. “You carry my pack and I’ll carry him.

“Come on, Ensign, piggyback for a while.”

“Doctor, switch places and swing behind so you can keep an eye on ‘em. Let’s go, go, go!” Martel shouted as he grabbed the packs from the physicist’s hands.

Sergeant Martel was now carrying three packs. The narrow path and fine dust covering the trail made them fight for every step. Their feet slipped on the gravel, threatening to throw them down the sides of the cliff while the water gulleys found at every switchback turn threatened to inflict a fatal twist of the ankle. There would be no lagging and no stopping for a sprained or broken ankle on this hot, unforgiving flight.

The ensign had passed out. Dead weight rested on the shoulders of the journalist but Bradley managed to stumble and struggle onward. Up they climbed, fighting the poor footing and heat with every step.

Sergeant Martel glanced forward. The journalist was doing much more than could be expected as he struggled up the path with Ensign Petrika on his back but he could see it would not be enough. He tapped Sandra on the shoulder and called a halt, “We ain’t gonna make it like this. Doctor, you take this pack. I’ll put the other two behind this rock. With any luck you can return later and get them.”

“What are you doing, Steve? You can’t leave us now, we’re …”

“I’m not leaving. With any luck I’ll be right along but first someone has to slow them down and it’s my job to do it.”

Tears filled Sandra’s eyes, before she could protest the sergeant shouted, “We haven’t time for this. Get the hell out of here will ya?”

He pressed the knapsack into her arms and roughly pushed her up the trail. Martel moved to the high point of the switchback but he couldn’t get the young physicist out of his mind.

Damn it Martell, you swore you wouldn’t get involved with any more women. Even when you don’t wanna have anything to do with ‘em they turn up and ya start caring for ‘em. I’m not goin’ through this again. What would she want with a grunt like me anyway? Way outta my league. Then again, who am I kidding? All my cares will most likely be over in a few minutes.

It was only a few seconds before he heard the sound of padded feet scrambling along the trail. He let them advance half way across the switchback before firing at the lead dinosaur. It fell to the ground and the troodon behind it stumbled over the struggling form. Martel fired, catching it in mid-air.

Three more followed, the first grabbed the still-thrashing dinosaur by the foot and rolled it down the cliff as two more passed up the trail. This was going to be it. The sergeant placed himself behind some rocks. He put his pistol on the ground at his feet along with an extra ammo bar and then unbuttoned his k-bar fighting knife. He would not have long to wait.

Three of the troodon charged around the corner not more than fifty feet off. It had been a tough up-hill climb for them but they sensed their quarry. Other calls lifted from below, the troodon had reinforcements on the way.

The first dove for the sergeant. Martel twisted to the side, kicking it as it landed while digging the toe of his boot into its groin. A razor sharp claw raked painfully down his calf as it tumbled over the edge.

Martel turned; the clip-buzzer on his rifle sounded off. Martel spotted a second set of troodon running up the trail as he rammed in a fresh ammo brick without even looking at the Pulsar but more than half a dozen predators made it across the clearing before he could react.

Shots from above ripped downslope, close enough to feel the crack of the hypervelocity rounds splitting the air.

Martel scrambled up onto the trail and grabbed the last two knapsacks and climbed one more switchback before he heard their voices, “Give us your knapsacks. … shit, what happened to you Sarge? You almost look as bad as the ensign. Hsu, give him a hand.”

A torrent of fire ripped the air. The troodon had emerged into another clearing on the trail below and the barrage that followed threw up a cloud of dust so intense it looked a smoke grenade discharge, “Cease fire,” Martel called out. “Let ‘em go. They’ve had enough. Am I glad to see you guys, even your ugly face Tyree. Come on, I’ll feel a lot safer when we get back behind the berm.”

The team collapsed once inside the safety of the AutoSentinels. Corporal Tyree knelt next to the ensign, gently removing the skin-tight covering from over the wound. In spite of the antiseptic, the injury was puffy with an angry red inflammation around it. A hot purple vein travelled across the young ensign’s shoulder and up past his left ear. Cpl. Tyree gently probed the edge of the wound while shaking his head as green and yellow puss flowed from it.

“We need to get him over to Doc Graeme,” Tyree said.

“He was bitten by one of those troodon. The sepsis seems to be advancing much faster than a simple infection,” Doctor Shieve commented. “Some animals have a poison in their bite or this may be a reaction, either way it could be fatal.”

“Privates Hsu and Estes, you run ahead and tell the Doc we’re coming in.” Martel limped over to the ensign. “Ask them to send a
transport or a stretcher to meet us. Tyree, you’re the biggest one here. I’ll hoist him on your back and we’ll take turns carrying him over to the Doc’s place. Let’s move it, on the double.”