Footprints of Thunder (60 page)

59. The Toolmaker

According to the rabbinical authority Rashi, ancient tradition knows of periodic collapses of the firmament, one of which occurred in the days of the Deluge, and which repeated themselves at intervals of 1,656 years.

—
Immanuel Velikovsky,
Worlds in Collision

Warm Springs Indian Reservation, Oregon

PostQuilt: Wednesday,
7:10
A.M.
PST

M
oose was riding on the dashboard, stretched out and soaking up the rays of the morning sun while Sarah was curled up on the passenger seat with a blanket. The two of them had gorged on raisins and apples. Behind them, tucked safely in a cabinet, was a rifle with a bore big enough to bring down an elephant, and three boxes of ammunition. Colter was retracing the route Dr. Coombs had taken, except Colter had a different purpose in mind. Dr. Coombs, Dr. Piltcher, and Petra had come to explore, to understand what had happened. Colter was going back for only one reason: to kill the monsters that had taken Petra from him, and especially one. He didn’t know how he was going to get it, but he wasn’t leaving without its head.

Colter knew he was close now. The road was nothing but two ruts. He cleared the top of the hill, and then rolled to a stop, surprised. He expected to see the dinosaurs, but not one fifty feet away, walking down the road ahead of him. When it heard Colter’s engine the animal turned and looked at the RV. It was like the one that had killed Dr. Coombs. Colter’s anger flared. He set the brake and dug the rifle out of the cabinet, checking the clip to make sure he had a full load, and then jacked a round into the chamber. When he aimed the rifle through the front window at the rear of the walking dinosaur, he looked down the sights to see Moose’s head staring from the end of the barrel.

Colter put the weapon down and shooed Moose out of the window, and then carried Sarah, blanket and all, to the back of the RV. To keep them busy and out of the way he put a few raisins on top of Moose’s cabinet and a bigger pile on the floor for Sarah. Moose immediately attacked Sarah’s pile, knowing his would still be there when he was done. Colter snickered. He liked Moose. He was a thinker.

Now the dinosaur was well down the road, so Colter released the brake and pulled up on its left. The creature kept walking but looked nervously at the RV rumbling along beside it. Something was wrong, Colter thought. Why wasn’t it scared? Colter pulled ahead of the dinosaur and parked, getting out with his rifle. He checked the load. There was one round in the chamber and eight in the clip. He had three more clips tucked into a fanny pack.

Colter scanned the area, making sure none of the big carnivores were around. When he did, he noticed other dinosaurs like the one on the road were milling around in the prairie grass bordering their meadow. Everything looked the same as when he left, except the grass. It was wilting. Not enough water? Colter wondered. Maybe it was the cool air. The dinosaur land
looked
almost tropical, but if it was too cold for the grass and brush, maybe it was too cold for the dinosaurs. Maybe they were dying. Colter smiled at the thought. Then something blew across the road—one of Petra’s T-shirts he’d thrown out the RV window. Colter flushed at the thought of Petra, and he turned, bringing the rifle to his shoulder. The dinosaur was lumbering toward him at a slow pace. Colter waited with his finger on the trigger, letting the dinosaur come closer. He didn’t want to miss. He knew the head and neck were heavily armored with bone, and he needed to hit it dead on to kill it instantly. If he just wounded it, it would be as dangerous as the mother whose egg they had stolen.

Wait till you see the whites of their eyes, he said to himself.

The dinosaur came on straight toward Colter. Slowly he began to pull back on the trigger, the sights lined up between the dinosaur’s widely spaced eyes. Just before he pulled the trigger it turned, angling to Colter’s left to go around him. Colter kept his aim, but the head began to swing, occasionally blocking his shot with the bony collar. Colter’s frustration grew, and he lowered the rifle. He wanted a head shot, but he didn’t want to get too far from the safety of the RV. Frustrated, he raised the gun to his shoulder, aimed at the neck of the passing dinosaur, and pulled the trigger.

The slug entered just in front of the dinosaur’s shoulder. But the dinosaur only jumped from fright at the gun’s loud report-then it jogged down the road. Colter jacked another cartridge into the chamber and chased the animal. He didn’t have to go far. Suddenly it collapsed to its knees, breathing deeply through its nose, and then fell to its side, its chest heaving. Colter watched it dying, a feeling of deep satisfaction filling his soul. After a few minutes the breathing became irregular and Colter worried it might die by itself. So he put another slug into its throat and then another into its exposed chest. It didn’t breathe after that.

“Man, that felt good!” Colter screamed. Then he put two more rounds into the dinosaur’s belly and one into an eye. “Yes!” he screamed. “How does it feel to be the hunted? Huh? See what a toolmaker can do? Huh? That’s why you guys are extinct, you dead piece of crap!”

Colter enjoyed the kill for another few minutes and then walked back to the RV. It was going to be a good day. These evolutionary rejects would learn who the real top predator was, and Colter would be the teacher.

He looked around for another target; the other monoclonius, scared by the sound of the gunfire, were positioning themselves defensively in the prehistoric clearing. Colter jeered, then screamed down the hill at them: “It ain’t gonna do you any good. I got the magic!” Then he held the rifle above his head, whooped and danced, and ran back to the RV.

He parked the RV near its earlier spot. Debris from the dinosaur attack, as well as Petra’s clothes, littered the clearing. Leaving Moose and Sarah in the RV, Colter approached the dinosaurs. Six of them stood lined up in two rows. Their heads were down, the horns pointed at Colter. He walked parallel to the dinosaur wall, watching the horns track him every step of the way. When he reached the end of the line he lifted his rifle, lined the sights up between the eyes of the last dinosaur, and pulled the trigger. The rifle kicked into his shoulder, and the loud report startled the lines of dinosaurs, but they didn’t bolt. The one on the end took the slug just above the snout. Colter was disappointed, he thought for sure at this distance he could put it right between the dinosaur’s eyes. But it didn’t matter. The dinosaur’s front legs buckled, and it dropped to its knees. Its back legs seemed locked and held its rear haunches high. Then its eyes closed, and with the back legs still locked, it tipped left and fell onto its side, dead.

The back row of dinosaurs moved nervously back and forth, swinging their heads. They looked like they wanted to bolt for the taller brush, but their instinct told them staying in the line was the best defense. Colter smiled. These poor dumb bastards were too stupid even to save themselves. He walked down the line to the next dinosaur. When he was directly in front, it pawed the ground. Colter raised his rifle and was about to shoot when a dinosaur in the back moved out of line and ran behind the one he was about to kill. Colter froze but held the moving dinosaur in his scope. The newcomer trotted up to the dead one, pushed it in the back with its horns, then raised its head and bellowed, prodding the carcass again and again. It then turned toward Colter, put its head down, and charged.

This time Colter’s life was on the line. The huge monster was picking up speed and closing fast, so he kept the rifle aimed between its eyes, fired, and then dove to the side. When he hit the grass he rolled to get well clear of the monster, and swung his rifle up to fire another shot if needed. It wasn’t. The bullet had hit the dinosaur in the head, killing it instantly, but the momentum carried it into a skid, then a tumble.

Colter crawled forward and then stood, using the dinosaur’s body to steady his gun. He sighted on another dinosaur and fired. This time the shot was wide and buried itself somewhere in the dinosaur’s neck, but it roared in pain and began swinging its head, then turned and staggered away. Now the rest of the herd bolted for the tall brush and were soon at a full gallop. Colter fired another round at the wounded dinosaur, hitting it in the rump; it roared again but kept walking even as blood streamed down its left rump and leg. When Colter put another round into it, the retreating dinosaur only whimpered and Colter was disappointed, but at least it bled more. Another shot got no further response, and as Colter watched, the bleeding dinosaur walked across the clearing and disappeared into the tall brush.

Colter was satisfied. It was heading into the heart of the dinosaur land and bleeding bad enough to attract a pack of scavengers. He smiled. This was one dinner party he planned on crashing.

He returned to the RV and packed some water, a little food, and a box of ammunition. Then he stretched out on a mattress on the floor to take a nap, his hands behind his head. He wanted to give the scavengers time to gather before he went after them. Besides, he was days behind in his sleep. Sarah came out from under a pile and sniffed all around Colter, looking for food. When she was sure there wasn’t any, she flopped down next to him, pushing her head into the warmth of his armpit. Her closeness bothered Colter, bringing back memories of Petra, but he soon fell asleep.

When he woke, Moose was stretched out on his chest, but as soon as he stirred the animal was up the wall to the top of the cabinet. Sarah stirred but didn’t wake. Colter realized she was shivering and he covered her with a blanket. It was just too cold for them, he realized. Colter remembered Dr. Coombs or Dr. Piltcher talking about the extinction of the dinosaurs. He remembered one of the theories was that a comet slammed into the earth, kicking up enough debris to block out the sun and bring winter to the entire planet. The dinosaurs just plain froze to death. Colter hadn’t paid much attention to the theory then, but he could see that Moose and Sarah weren’t equipped for an eastern Oregon fall, let alone winter. They were both lethargic and slept much of the time.

Of course there’s another thing that might have happened to the dinosaurs, Colter told himself, something Dr. Piltcher or Dr. Coombs never would have thought of. Maybe the dinosaurs died off because they all came to the future and were blown away … by me! Colter frowned as a memory of Petra drifted through his mind. Then he put out a bowl of water and more fruit for Moose and Sarah and left.

Outside the RV, the position of the sun told him he had been asleep for hours. The carcasses nearby were still intact. Probably the gunfire had scared the scavengers deeper into the forest. But there was still the one that got away, leaving a blood trail, and it should have drawn a crowd by now. Checking that all his clips were fully loaded, Colter slid a hunting knife in a sheath onto his belt, picked up his pack, and left the RV. The trail was easy to follow. It led him straight into the tall brush, and toward the clearing where the big carnivore had eaten Dr. Piltcher. It also led toward the lake where that walking fish had killed Petra. That suited Colter fine. First he would kill the dinner guests, and then he would camp by the lake and wait. If he had to, he’d wade out into the lake making himself bait. But he wasn’t leaving until that walking fish paid for what it did to Petra.

There was so much blood, Colter guessed the animal must have a severed artery, but the track went on and on. He was approaching the clearing when he heard growling. Making sure the rifle had a bullet in the chamber, he crept forward. The monoclonius had made it through to the clearing and its carcass—picked nearly clean from neck collar to tail—was fifty feet from the brush line. All of its ribs were bare. Three of the fifteen-foot carnivores were in the clearing chewing on rib bones, and half a dozen of the three-footers were reaching around looking for tidbits. It was just what Colter wanted, a shooting gallery.

Colter crept right to the edge of the clearing, crawling under a bush until he had a clear shot. Then he lined up his first one, aiming at the head of one of the fifteen-footers. As its head came up with something red from the body cavity it turned to look around. When the head was parallel to Colter he fired and it screamed in pain. The other dinosaurs froze at the sound of the rifle, trying to spot the danger, their heads pointed up. Colter realized that in this food chain, none of them would think to look under a bush for an enemy.

The wounded dinosaur was using its small front legs to paw at his jaw. Colter, skilled from his first killing spree, turned and shot another of the fifteen-footers in the side, leaving the first wounded dinosaur for later. The second dinosaur screamed like the first and spun, looking for its attacker. Blinded by its pain and rage it sunk its teeth into its wounded brother’s neck. The first dinosaur crumped and bellowed and the fight was on. The dinosaurs fell, rolling to the ground. The first one still had its teeth in the neck of its friend, but the one on the bottom was using its three toes to rip at the belly of its attacker. The noise was deafening, but Colter couldn’t have been happier. He loved it. They were killing each other.

Colter decided to add the last dinosaur to the fight, the one who had backed off a few feet and was watching the fight from a safe distance. He put a slug into its chest. But this dinosaur simply shuddered and stood dumbly, watching. Colter shot it in the leg, trying to get a reaction. This time it spun around and Colter shot it in the tail. When it spun again, Colter excitedly repeated the tail shot—again and again as the beast whirled and shrieked, ten times in all. It took two shots at the head before he dropped the spinner.

By now, the dinosaur fight was over. The one on the bottom had died in the grasp of its brother. Colter took aim to kill the winner but never fired the shot.

Something was coming up behind him, and from the sound of the crashing brush, something big. He realized it was almost on top of him, its progress covered by the noise of the gun and: the dinosaur fight. He rolled onto his back and looked up through the brush. There, towering three stories above him, was the dinosaur that had chased Colter and killed Dr. Piltcher. He was about to shoot when he realized the dinosaur wasn’t looking at him. It didn’t seem to know he was there. Instead it was lodking into the clearing at the remaining carnivore.