Honoré drew aside Bai’s Suzhen’s blouse, peeling the blood-wet fabric away from the three deep lacerations that extended down from her collarbone to the inner curve of her right breast.
“She needs doctoring and fast,” she announced. “Where’s the first aid kit?”
Mouzi arose, reaching for the case, but Kavanaugh said, “We need you on the engine. Aubrey, you can help Dr. Roxton.”
To his surprise, Belleau didn’t voice an objection. Instead he went swiftly to the front of the car and fetched the box. Honoré pulled out a padded thickness of gauze and wiped at the blood welling from the gashes.
“I don’t think a major blood vessel has been severed,” she said, “but the transverse thoracic muscles are definitely hemorrhaging. Aubrey, give me a pressure bandage.”
Belleau found the two-inch thick pad in the medical kit and waited for Honoré to pull away the bloody gauze. He laid the pressure bandage over the gash, affixing the adhesive to Bai Suzhen’s flesh, giving it a little squeeze to bring the antiseptic gel to the surface. Bai showed no sign of regaining consciousness.
With effort, Kavanaugh kept his attention focused on the Deinonychus pulling itself atop the pylon. It crouched down on all fours, studying the rear of the car with bright, alert eyes. Its tail, held out behind it, switched like that of a cat about to pounce. He sensed the creature assessing him, gauging the threat level of the rifle in his hands, extrapolating on how it functioned. It turned its head toward the troop gathered below and uttered a series of yips and squeaks.
Under his breath, Kavanaugh murmured, “That’s it…tell your homies we’re too dangerous, tell them we’re too much of an unknown quantity. Go on, hell-spawn. Just back off.”
Then between one eye blink and another, the Deinonychus moved. It was so fast, to Kavanaugh’s eyes, it was if the creature had vanished from where it crouched and then reappeared several yards down the line. Its claws clicked in a maddening castanet rhythm against the rail. Behind it, another Deinonychus climbed atop the pylon, immediately followed by another.
Rather than risk missing the shot, Kavanaugh fell backward into the coach, dropping the rifle so he could use both hands to pull the door shut. The Deinonychus thrust an arm through before the door sealed completely. Kavanaugh avoided having his eyes clawed out by a fractional margin.
He launched a straight-leg kick at the door, trapping the creature’s forearm just above the elbow joint between the edge and the frame. He maintained the pressure with his leg as Honoré snatched up Bai Suzhen’s sword and slashed with the blade, the razor-keen steel opening up a horizontal gash in the scaled flesh of the raptor’s arm. Very little blood spilled out, but the Deinonychus howled in pain.
Noting the denseness of the epidermal tissue, Honoré hacked again, using a swift, back and forth sawing motion until the blade grated against bone. The creature screamed, frantically struggling to free itself. Kavanaugh drew back his leg just far enough so the animal could pull its limb free. It went flailing across the track and over the edge, plummeting to the ground twenty-five feet below.
Kavanaugh dropped the aluminum locking bar across the door just as three other Deinonychus surged up. They slammed against it, their claws raking over the window. Terror rose in Kavanaugh as he saw how the talons scored the glass, gouging it deeply. Two of the Deinonychus leaped atop the car, affording everyone a view of the leathery soles of their feet. Their claws scrabbled loudly over the Plexiglas.
Honoré returned to attending to Bai Suzhen. Examining the pressure bandage, she said, “I can’t stop the bleeding. Even if I could, I’d only be prolonging her life for a few hours.”
Belleau eyed her fearfully. “Why do you say that?”
She gestured with the blade of the sword. “We’ll suffocate if we have to be locked up in here for more than two or three hours…less than that once the heat of the day hits. We’ll be baked alive.”
Kavanaugh knew she spoke the truth. The brutal mid-day sun would turn the interior of the car into an oven. They would all die of heat prostration before they ran out of oxygen. Several more Deinoncychus came loping along the rail line and the hope of opening the door to allow an influx of fresh air disappeared.
Kavanaugh glanced toward Crowe who kneeled beside Mouzi, dabbing at her sweat-beaded forehead with a bandana, as if she were a surgeon performing an exceptionally delicate operation.
“Do you have any idea what the problem is?” he asked.
A mechanical throb arose from the floor plates. Little lights panels inset into the coachwork glowed, and then faded.
After the first jolt of jubilation, Kavanaugh demanded, “What the hell was that?”
“There’s a loose coupling to the Wankel,” Mouzi said between clenched teeth, her eyes squeezed shut in concentration. “I’m trying to reconnect it by feel, but this ain’t the way to do it. I should pull the entire block and—”
A fat spark popped and a choked cry burst from the girl’s lips. Her slight body spasmed as she rolled across the floor, hands knotted into fists. The engine drone filled the compartment and the coach lurched forward a few feet, a loud metal-on-metal squeal accompanying it.
“Thank God!” Belleau shouted happily, averting his face from the snarling visage of a Deinonychus only inches away on the other side of the transparent barrier. “Well done, young lady, very well done!”
Crowe pulled Mouzi into a sitting position, trying to pry open her clenched fingers. “’C’mon,” he said gently. “Let me see.”
“Just a shock,” she said in trembling voice. “Not surprised it happened.”
Crowe winced at the sight of the reddened flesh at the base of her fingers. “We need some analgesic cream over here.”
Aubrey obligingly brought the tube to Mouzi, squeezing it onto her burns. Reacting to a touch of a cool breeze on his face, he saw a slotted air-conditioning vent on the floor. “We’ve got air! Exceptionally well-done, young lady!”
Mouzi only glowered at him.
Crowe helped Mouzi to her feet. They gazed at the landscape slowly sliding past the windows. The train picked up speed, the grinding of metal becoming less pronounced as rust deposits were scraped away. Then they felt a sudden surge of acceleration, which sent everyone staggering.
“Now we’re cookin’!” Mouzi exclaimed.
“Yeah,” Crowe said dolefully. “We’ve got air and we’re moving, but we’ve got no control. The switch-back point has automatic brake settings, but I don’t know if they’ll still function.”
“What will happen if they don’t?” asked Honoré.
Before Crowe answered, his attention was commanded by a Deinonychus clinging to the side of the carriage, hanging spread-eagled but slowly slipping down the curve of the Plexiglas. Its claws gouged into the glass as it tried to tighten its grip. He feigned swinging a fist at its head. The creature flinched instinctively, lost its grip, fell off the side of the coach and toppled to the ground.
“Ain’t that damn smart of a monster,” Mouzi said with a snicker.
As the train picked up speed, the landscape changed. There were more clumps of trees dotting the expanse of savanna. Rock outcroppings rose from the grassy plain like unfinished sculptures.
Crowe faced Belleau. “If the brakes won’t work, one of two things will happen—we’ll crash to a dead stop at the switch-point and maybe even fly off the rail.”
“There’s a third option,” pointed out Kavanaugh. “You could disconnect the coupling again and just gradually slow us down.”
Crowe looked out the forward port. “We’ve got about nine miles to make up our minds.”
“It might not make a difference to Bai,” Honoré declared, holding a finger to the base of the woman’s neck. “Her vitals aren’t good. Pulse is thready, heart rate is erratic. Her temperature is very high. I think she’s going into septic shock.”
Kavanaugh gazed at her, feeling helpless and hating it. Bai Suzhen’s eyes were closed, her face pale, sheened with perspiration. Her respiration was labored. Then he shifted his gaze to Belleau. “What about that tube of sludge?”
Honoré frowned, then her eyes widened. “Yes—Aubrey, you claimed exposure to the Prima Materia substance healed a mortally wounded man your great-great-grandfather was treating.”
Belleau’s face twisted in an expression of one who has been betrayed. “Honoré, surely you’re not serious. The sample I have is the only one extant. It was collected by Jacque Belleau’s own hands.”
“Collect another sample,” Honoré said, “this time with your own hands.”
“The pool could be long gone by now, dried up or covered over. There may not be any more samples.”
“That substance is the only thing we have left to try,” stated Honoré matter-of-factly. “It’s a matter of life or death.”
“If the sample had any potency,” argued Belleau, “it’s probably long gone. It’s been over one hundred and seventy-five years since it was found. There has to be an alternative.”
Kavanaugh leveled the carbine at Belleau. “There is. If Bai dies, so do you.”
Belleau glanced from the hollow bore of the rifle, to Bai Suzhen’s face, and then he turned toward Oakshott. “The sample, please.”
The big man thrust a hand into his pants pocket and produced the glass tube. Belleau took it from him, carefully picking away at the wax and solder seal. He said resentfully, “This was sealed by Jacque Belleau himself.”
“Then who better that to break the seal than his direct descendant?” Honoré inquired.
A furious thumping and scratching came from above. On the roof, the pair of Deinonychus hammered at a pane of Plexiglas. At first, Kavanaugh assumed they vented their frustration, but he saw the corner of the panel pop loose from the lip of the frame. His throat constricted. By working with bloodthirsty diligence, the animals had found a weak spot.
Keeping his eyes on the raptors, he asked, “Gus, how fast do you figure we’re going?”
Crowe looked out the window. “Thirty, maybe thirty-five miles an hour.”
“No way to go faster?”
“I’m surprised we’re maintaining this rate of speed. Why?”
Kavanaugh pointed to the creatures on the roof. “Remember what they used to tell us in training—that it was better to fight the enemy down the road than when they dropped into our laps?”
Crowe’s brow furrowed. “Jesus Christ. How many rounds to you have left?”
“Two.”
“If you shoot through the glass, you’ll get a big degree of deflection.”
“I know. And if we wait until they drop into our laps, we could find our laps in pretty clawed up conditions.”
Crowe knuckled his chin contemplatively. “An outcome to be avoided.”
Honoré swung her head up, her face registering a mixture of fear and confusion. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but I don’t like the sound of it.”
“Join the club,” Kavanaugh replied. “But if we don’t do something we’re going to have a couple of very bad-mannered drop-ins.”
He glanced toward Oakshott who stared upward at the Deinonychus. “Mr. Oakshott—do you happen to have a first name?”
The man nodded. “Hamish.”
“Hamish, I’ll need your help. I’m going to open the rear door, stand out on the platform and you’re going to boost me up so I can shoot those goddamn raptors.”
“What?” demanded Belleau in a ragged voice.
“Yes,” said Oakshott, levering himself to his feet by the arms of the chair. “Yes, I can do that.”
Belleau scowled. “I forbid it.”
Oakshott said quietly, “Don’t worry about it, Doctor. Everything is fine.”
Belleau looked to be on the verge of arguing, then he finished scraping away the last of the seal on the tube and handed it to Honoré, who held it uncertainly. She sniffed the contents and asked, “What do I do with this?”
“How should I know? According to the journal, the material actually leaked into Bosun Hoxie’s wounds.”
Honoré eyed the substance within the vial dubiously. “Then I should just apply it topically to her injuries?”
“I’ve told you all I know,” Belleau said with a resigned headshake.
Very carefully, Honoré lifted the pressure bandage away from Bai Suzhen’s lacerations. Kavanaugh grimaced at the sight of the deep gashes, the flesh around them swollen and discolored.
“Here goes,” Honoré whispered, tipping the vial over the wounds.
For a long moment, the sludge did not slide from the tube. Then, a fat drop oozed over the rim and plopped directly into the center cut. A second later, a sluggish stream flowed forth, spreading out and filling the raw gashes with bubbling slime.
Honoré drew back, murmuring, “Oh my God. It almost seems drawn to the areas of most trauma.”
Feeling a little sick to his stomach, Kavanaugh gestured to Oakshott. “Let’s do this.”
The two men moved to the rear door. Crowe and Mouzi stood directly beneath the Deinonychus, holding their attention by shouting and gesticulating.
Kavanaugh put his hand on the locking bar. “On three. One…two…three.”
He flung up the bar, and shouldered the door open, stepping onto the platform. At the same time, Oakshott bent, grasped him around the waist and lifted Kavanaugh straight up.