Z. Rex

Table of Contents

 

A hard snout nudged up against Adam’s ear and breathed out. The warning rasp of its breath was like sandpaper on his senses. Adam stopped talking, clamped his teeth down on his lower lip and tried to stop shaking. He was half grateful to the darkness for hiding most of this thing, yet terrified by the thought of what else might be lurking—

Something moved to his right.

The shadowy shape growled menacingly. It sniffed the air as it padded about the cave—and suddenly, a fierce yellow glare spat from spotlights in the rocky ceiling.
Lights? Where did the lights come from?
Adam screwed up his eyes, blinked as his vision slowly adjusted.

Then, as the monster stood fully revealed at last, he wished they hadn’t.

A dinosaur was glaring down at him.

PUFFIN BOOKS

Published by the Penguin Group

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Registered Offices: Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

 

First published in the United States of America by Philomel Books, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2009

Published by Puffin Books, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2010

 

Copyright © Steve Cole, 2009

All rights reserved

THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS HAS CATALOGED THE PHILOMEL BOOKS EDITION AS FOLLOWS: Cole, Stephen, 1971—

Z. Rex / Steve Cole.

p. cm.—(The hunting ; bk. 1)

Summary: From Santa Fe, New Mexico, to Edinburgh, Scotland, thirteen-year-old

Adam Adlar must elude police while being hunted by a dinosaur come-to-life from a virtual reality game invented by his father, who has gone missing.

eISBN : 978-1-101-43455-0

[1. Dinosaurs—Fiction. 2. Virtual reality—Fiction. 3. Fathers and sons—Fiction.

4. New Mexico—Fiction. 5. Edinburgh (Scotland)—Fiction.

6. Scotland—Fiction. 7. Science fiction.]

I. Title. II. Title: Zed Rex.

PZ7.C67356Zad 2009

[Fic]—dc22 2009006637

 

 

 

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This one’s been quite a ride, and scaly, dinosaur-sized thanks are due to . . . Michael Green—for saying yes and pushing me in the right direction. Courtenay Palmer and Kiffin Steurer—who’ve watched out for Zed and me. Philippa Milnes-Smith—for all the deals and all she deals with. Jill Cole, my wife—for everything she does.

T
he creature had no name. There was nothing like it on Earth.

But tonight it would show everyone what it could really do
.

Massive and powerful, the creature smashed a path through the moonlit forest. It tore apart the brushwood, uprooting tall trees that had stayed standing for hundreds of years. Its night vision brought a bloodred tint to the shadow landscape.

It was hunting.

Supernatural senses had already pierced the skin of its prey like great, invisible fangs. The creature scented hot blood coursing through veins. Heard the stroke of limbs brushing together. Felt the currents in the air swirling around its victim. With every splintering stride, the picture became clearer. . . .

The hunting creature did not know why its target had been chosen for death this night. But killing was something it did exceptionally well.

There. In the forest clearing, in the darkness, its prey was hiding. Keeping stock-still.

As if that might save it.

A triumphant roar built in the hunter’s throat. The undergrowth exploded around it as it flew like a living missile toward its victim, baring gleaming, knife-point teeth. . . .

Less than a second later, the creature held its prey in its snapped-shut jaws.

Mission accomplished.

The perfect kill.

A small group of people were waiting, watching, wondering as the creature returned. “An impressive result,” said one onlooker softly. “We’re ready to move to the next phase.”

The creature sensed the fear and excitement mingling in its audience. It turned away, looking back into the forest. A forest that it might once have called home, far away and long ago.

Then the creature stalked over to the man who had spoken, looming over him. With a flick of its thick tongue, it spat the remains of its victim at his feet.

A
dam Adlar kicked down the door and burst into the darkness beyond it. He paused for a moment, marveling that he felt no pain in his foot, only a pleasing thrill of strength. Then a low growl sounded from the thick shadows ahead of him. Something large had been cooped up in here, something deadly. But Adam knew he could take it. He knew—

“DIE, INTRUDER!” A monstrous, twisted figure lunged at him from out of the shadows, its red eyes glinting, its terrifying claws scrabbling for his face. Adam hurled himself under the creature’s arms. With his head tucked down, he hit the stone floor on his shoulder, his momentum carrying him into a perfect forward roll that left him back on his feet a moment later. Exulting in his power and agility, he twirled back around and landed a brutal karate chop to the monster’s side, cracking its ribs like brittle chalk.

Ignoring the creature’s agonizing scream, barely pausing for breath, Adam launched into his favorite fight moves, which were now as natural to him as breathing, a stomp kick followed by a jab cross. He lashed out with his left foot, sending the creature staggering backward, and followed up with right and left jabs in rapid succession, fists smacking into hard flesh. The monster wasn’t getting back up from that combo.

Every sense wired and buzzing, Adam charged onward into the gloom and found another door. He booted it, feeling the jolt in his foot, but this time the door didn’t open. He kicked again, and then again even harder, but the door wouldn’t give an inch.

“Come on!” he yelled, frustration edging into fear as wet, scraping, slobbering noises started up behind him and the stench of rotten meat filled his nostrils. “Dad, this isn’t fair!” He spun back around, hoping to find another exit from the enemy’s lair before it was too late. A low, gurgling chuckle carried from the dark. Taloned fingers closed around his throat, squeezed tighter, tighter. Adam felt a wave of nausea, a rush of oncoming darkness—

GAME OVER.

And Adam was back on the couch in the testing lab, soaked with sweat and panting for breath, half terrified, half ecstatic. Exiting Ultra-Reality was more like waking from a vivid, incredible dream than quitting a game. For a moment he wasn’t sure which was reality, this windowless industrial unit in New Mexico or the dark, digital lair he’d left behind. But as his racing heart slowed, Adam took in the Ultra-Reality console—its staring green bulb extinguished now—and his dad standing over him, carefully pulling the heavy headset from his temples and the sensor pads from his fists and feet.

“Wow,” said Adam groggily. “That was awesome, the realest ever. You’re a genius, Dad—”

“C’mon now, take it easy,” Mr. Adlar soothed him in his warm Midwestern accent. “Get your breath back.”

“You are, though.” Adam wasn’t just being loyal; when the bugs were fixed, he knew that U-R would be the ultimate gaming experience. The console turned thoughts into computer commands and game code into things you could feel. Instead of using a controller or waving your arms, you could just
think
what you wanted a character to do, really become the hero. In an instant, Adam could transform from a skinny, darkhaired Edinburgh teen into a blond, muscular monster slayer surrounded by admiring girls and sidekicks. And thanks to the sensor pads, you could even feel an impression of the impact of blows and footfalls. Ultra-Reality lived up to its name.

“I was following your gameplay on screen.” His dad looked concerned. “What happened with that door you couldn’t open?”

“I don’t know,” said Adam. “Was it me? Did your favorite test subject mess up?”

“My
only
test subject,” Dad reminded him evenly. “The Think-Send technology—”

“Copyright and trademark, Bill Adlar.”

“—was modeled on your brain waves. Right now, the game wouldn’t work at all with anyone else playing it.”

Adam watched his father’s forehead furrow into deep, familiar creases. He remembered that when Mum was still around, his dad seemed always to be smiling. Each new triumph had sent him dancing around the room, playing air guitar till his glasses fell off. Although born in Michigan, he’d gone to Edinburgh to do his postdoctorate in computer science and fallen in love with the place—and with Adam’s mum. They’d started a family there, he’d had a nice income from dozens of patents, and life must have seemed pretty good.