Authors: James F. David
“I didn’t mean to shoot your raptor,” Carson explained, approaching Jeanette. “They were all mixed up.”
“You shot Do too,” Jeanette said, refusing to look at Carson.
“He tried to kill me,” Carson whined.
“You kicked me in the face,” Jeanette said.
“I’m sorry. You were all over me, and the raptors were attacking.”
“Go to hell,” Jeanette said.
“We don’t have time for this,” John said, interrupting the argument. “Nick, help me with Snead. Kelton, take the point. Elizabeth and Jeanette, I need you two to protect the rear. Carson, give me that rifle and you walk in the middle.”
“I’m keeping the rifle,” Carson said, hugging it to his chest.
“If you fire that weapon without my permission, I’ll shoot you myself,” John said.
“Wait,” Jeanette said, taking off the pack that had carried Do. Elizabeth held it open while Jeanette gently lifted Me in. Then Nick helped Elizabeth lift the pack so that Jeanette could put it on. Me squawked annoyance, but did not seem to be in any pain.
“Let’s move,” John said.
With Nick under one of Snead’s arms, and John under the other, they supported the marine, who was feeling no pain but whose leg could not carry any weight. Kelton led off, somehow picking his way through the forest, now lit by an approaching fire. At the back of the pack, Jeanette’s three healthy velociraptors kept near Jeanette, one on either side, one trailing. Occasionally, one would stop, turn back, and freeze, then a few seconds later, trot to catch up. The velociraptors seemed to think that something was following the fleeing humans.
49
The Long Journey
On average, the distance between the Earth and the sun is 93 million miles, or 8.3 light-minutes. Unfortunately, a spacecraft sent to the sun could not travel in a straight line. Typically, space probes of this mass can be accelerated to 5.2 kilometers per second, which means it would take the better part of a year for transit.
—Emmett Puglisi, Special Consultant to the OSS
Present Time
Earth Orbit
Mission Pilot Rosa Perez-Roberts moved the Aurora away from the PAM to the recommended safe observation distance. With no ports, the observations were from external cameras, Perez-Roberts and Watson with their own monitors, Chandra and Maven sharing a screen in the cargo hold. Houston controlled the PAM, and now they saw puffs of gas from around the perimeter of the PAM, starting a rotation. The PAM used spin stabilization, the rocket and its payload now rotating rapidly. Rotation distributed and nullified any mass differences between the two cylinders, and compensated for potential uneven burn of the solid fuel, creating a clear center of gravity.
“Houston, she’s stable,” Commander Watson radioed.
“Roger that,” West said.
Now the PAM engine ignited with a blinding flash, and then a steady burn, hot gases spewing from the nozzle. Quickly, the PAM sped away, the trajectory modified because of the newfound power of the booster. Previously, the plan was to accelerate the cylinders around the Earth, and then slingshot it toward the sun. With ten times the power, the trajectory was recalculated and the cylinders blasted out of orbit, not bothering with the slingshot effect.
“Houston, she’s on her way,” Watson said with a pang of regret.
“Houston, how’s that software update for flight control coming?” Maven asked.
“We’re sending it now,” West said.
Watson watched the white dot of the PAM shrink to a pinpoint, and then lost it. Then Perez-Roberts turned the Aurora and executed a gentle burn, the spaceship dropping toward Earth on its way to being an airplane again.
50
Escape
As the middle of the proud ceremonial column leveled with the vehicle, the explosion was detonated.… Seven horses were killed.… Sefton suffered multiple deep wounds to his neck.… [One] 2
×
1 shred severed his jugular vein. Five four-inch nails were implanted … into his face, one spiked his back. His stifle and flanks were gored by searing shrapnel from the car.… [Eventually] Sefton returned to his duties.… The Household Cavalry recorded that he was a horse of great courage and character. Trooper Pederson reported that Sefton responded so bravely when the bomb exploded that there was no chance of being thrown from him.
—Cheryl R. Lutring
Sixty-five Million Years Ago
Unknown Place
With the column strung out over half a mile, only those in front saw the
T. rex,
but everyone heard it bellow. Turning to flee, they ran into and over those behind, hampering the marines from getting forward. With Sergeant Kwan, Washburne, and Tafua fighting their way upstream through the panic, Weller had the only weapon with ammunition between the
T. rex
and its prey. Crazy Kramer stood his ground, machete in hand, dried blood in his beard, wild look in his eyes.
Whether the
T. rex
saw the panicking crowd or not, it showed no interest. Instead, its eyes were fixed on Torino, who now danced around in a circle and reared, getting ready to run. Dragged by the reins, Conyers hung on for dear life and then lunged for the saddle horn, jammed her bad left leg into the stirrup, and threw herself into the saddle. Something in the knee tore, but fear helped control the pain, and she was in the saddle again. Bulldozing two trees, the
T. rex
broke into the clearing, coming straight toward Torino.
“Get out of the way!” Weller yelled, trying for a clear shot.
Given his head, Torino bolted, needing no kicks to get to a full gallop. The
T. rex
closed fast, sprinting across the open space, angling to cut Torino off. Weller opened up on full auto, the
T. rex
taking hits but ignoring them. Judging the speed and mass of the
T. rex,
Conyers cut inside his angle, forcing him to turn. For something that huge, it was nimble, but Torino was faster, the
T. rex
lunging when the horse made its near pass, the huge feet of the
T. rex
throwing mounds of turf into the air as it dug for traction. Its jaws snapped closed just over Conyers’s left shoulder.
“Bring him around!” Weller shouted.
The other three marines had arrived, kneeling, taking aim. With the
T. rex
closing, Conyers rode parallel to the marines positioned in the trees. All four opened up on full auto, this time getting the
T. rex
’s attention. Veering, the
T. rex
charged the marines, running right into the weapons’ fire. The marines broke, running left and right. The
T. rex
snapped up one, biting him nearly in half, his pelvis and legs dangling from huge jaws by sinew and a shredded uniform. With a jerk of his head, the
T. rex
swallowed the rest of the marine, and then looked for more. Gunfire gave away the position of another, and the
T. rex
attacked, the marine rolling away, crawling behind a tree. With a head butt, the
T. rex
knocked the tree askew, seeing the marine crawling away.
Kicking Torino furiously, Conyers drew her pistol, charging the
T. rex
from behind.
“Yah, yah, yah!” Conyers yelled, shooting at the
T. rex
’s spine.
Either the sting of the bullets or the bang of the pistol caught the attention of the
T. rex
. Seeing Torino, the
T. rex
went for the larger meal, burying the fleeing marine in dirt and turf as it dug in and turned. Conyers had a head start, racing across the open space, heading for the trees on the other side. As before, she planned to zigzag through the forest. Torino was tiring, partly from the exertion, but mostly from crippling fear. Conyers had to find some way to end this. If the marines could not kill the monster, then she had to lose it. Nearing the trees, she saw movement. Two more
T. rex
es came from the forest, attracted to the bellowing and shooting.
“Damn!” Conyers said, pulling hard right.
The trailing
T. rex
paused only long enough to bellow a warning at its brothers, which set off a squabble. The other predators came on, ignoring the warning, jostling for position in the chase. Out of ideas, Conyers decided to lead the
T. rex
es away from the others, giving them a chance to get away. Now chased by three of the monsters, she headed for the trees, Torino nearly exhausted, his terror keeping him running.
Then overhead Conyers saw a fireball coming straight for her. Kicking Torino furiously, Conyers eked out a bit more speed, and they reached the trees just as the fireball hit behind them. The explosion nearly knocked Conyers over Torino’s head, but she landed on his neck, heat singeing the horse and rider, burning the hair from the back of Conyers’s neck. Torino screamed with pain and fear, but kept running, dodging trees, letting them absorb as much debris, heat, and flame as they could. Then a new horror, as meat and scorched
T. rex
parts rained. Bits and pieces spattered horse and rider, bigger chunks landing right and left. To the right, a massive haunch hit and tumbled, creating a pinwheel of blood. To the left, a small
T. rex
arm spun down from the sky like a whirlybird. Then the head of a
T. rex
fell through the trees, knocking off limbs and burying itself in the soft ground, blocking their flight. Conyers pulled up, Torino rearing, whinnying, and staring wide-eyed at the gaping jaws and dead eyes.
Looking back, Conyers saw a fire in the meadow behind them and heard the screaming of an injured
T. rex
. Letting Torino walk off his exhaustion, Conyers circled wide, eventually finding the refugees crowded together, Weller and Jacob Lewinski trying to calm them and keep them from running back to the church compound.
“It’s a sign from God!” someone shouted.
“He blocked our way!” another shouted.
“We should have listened to Reverend. We’ve got to go back.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Wynooski could be heard saying. “There is no God. There are no signs.”
“You need to get moving again!” Weller shouted. “We’re almost there. We can get you home.”
“This is our home,” came a frightened voice.
“Quiet!” Conyers shouted, coming through the trees.
It had to be the horse that gave her authority, but the crowd settled down, listening to her when they would not listen to Lieutenant Weller and his men.
“God didn’t block your way,” Conyers argued. “God cleared the way. Who do you think sent that fireball?”
“She’s right!” Jacob shouted. “God saved us from the beasts that plague this world.”
Uncertainty spread through the crowd, some still arguing to go back, others listening.
“Look at the sky,” Conyers said.
The people looked to see black streaks spreading from some distant point.
“This age is ending. God cleared the way for you to go home. Disobey God at your own peril.”
Then Conyers pushed through the crowd, letting them fall in behind Torino, and angled through the trees to skirt the burning meadow. Behind, some followed immediately, while others hesitated, arguing and pleading with others to go back. Children cried in fear and uncertainty; husbands and wives bickered. Then all argument ended when another fireball fell from the sky, exploding a mile behind them. The forest between them and their church was now ablaze. Instantly, all the remaining people fell in line, now urging those in front of them to get out of the way, or to hurry.
Distant thumps announced more impacts, and soon smoke rose from a half dozen sites all around them. Soot fell thick as a blizzard, people coughing and complaining of the smoke. Taking her knife, Conyers pulled the tail of her shirt from her pants and cut it off. Soaking it in water, she made a bandanna, tying it over her mouth and nose. The spreading smoke hastened night, and soon they were hiking through a toxic gloom.
“Lieutenant Weller, I’m going to push ahead. I think we’re close, but I need to find it before it’s too dark to see.”
Weller waved her on, and Conyers urged Torino into a trot, as fast as she dared go with limited visibility. Guided by her last visual reference, and her instinct, Conyers kept as straight a line as she could, passing through alternating meadows and small stands of trees. Finally, she came out of a stand of trees and rode for half a mile through ferns and palms the height of a fire hydrant. Then the slope changed, rising sharply. This had to be it, but was the valley she and the Stripys had come out of to the right or left? Conyers guessed right, riding partially along the hill, one eye on the distant tree line, fearful of what might be hiding in the trees. After half a mile, she found the cleft. Riding a few steps into the opening, she saw that the shadow was still there, an irregular blackness filling the small canyon from side to side. Afraid to dismount with her bad leg, Conyers tossed her handcuffs into the blackness. They disappeared.
“Let’s hope that goes where I think it does,” Conyers said, and then turned Torino and began retracing her steps.
Leaning out, Conyers kept her eyes on the ground, following her own trail. Torino huffed and coughed now, his lungs irritated by the thickening smoke.
“Hang in there, boy,” Conyers said. “Just a little longer.”
Following the trail through the meadow was relatively easy since a horse and rider chewed up soft turf. In the trees, the shadows made it even harder to see, and she rode slower. To the left, another fireball hit, turning a small fire into a forest fire. Wind direction was bringing it their way.
“We’ve got to move faster,” Conyers said, nudging the exhausted horse.
Leaning out nearly to the point of falling off, Conyers watched the trail, awkwardly guiding Torino around trees and through small clearings. Once she lost the trail and circled, spiraling out, until she saw a clear hoofprint; then she was back on the trail, leaning low, trusting Torino to find good footing. Then ahead, she saw Weller coming through the trees, people trailing, holding hands, afraid of losing their way.