Pteranodon Mall

by Ian Woodhead

  “I wonder what it’s doing?”

  “Waiting to be served,” replied Sandy. “Look, does it matter? Jefferson, melt the bastard. We haven’t got time to go around it.”

  The huge animal lowered its head until it was level with the counter. The Tyrannosaur’s wet nostrils quivered. Could it smell them? Jefferson slowly put his hand on the door behind him. Even with this out of this world weapon, he still didn’t feel safe. At the first sign of it about to charge, he intended to push his friends through into the stairwell and run like hell.

  The sheer size and power of this animal turned Jefferson’s blood into ice-slush.

  “She right,” hissed Janine. “We can’t go around it.” It suddenly opened its canyon jaws and roared. The noise was like standing directly under a landing jumbo jet. Sandy clamped her hands over her ears. The sleeve fell away from her arm, exposing the infected skin. Jefferson was sure the redness had spread further down her arm. What the hell was he hesitating for? He was wasting time while another one of his friends was dying right in front of his eyes!

  Jefferson raised his hand, aimed at the dinosaur’s head, and pressed what looked like a trigger. Nothing happened.

  The tyrannosaur roared again, and this time, it didn’t look like it was going to stay beside that pretzel stall.

  “I don’t know what to do with this thing!”

  Sandy grabbed Jefferson’s arm and snatched the weapon out of his hand. The huge beast lumbered towards them, still roaring. The stench of its foul breath now filled the air. The noise even shook Jefferson’s bones. He backed away, getting ready to pull his friends into the stairwell, when Sandy finally got it to fire again.

  A hot stream of energy slammed into the creature’s head. The shot liquefied skin and bone.

  “Oh my God!” moaned David. He ran over to a litterbin and dropped to his knees.

  Jefferson grabbed the two women and jerked them over to the doors when the headless body tilted over before crashing into the pretzel stand. Splintered pieces of bright orange painted wood flew out in every direction.

  David came back over to the group. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry about that,” he muttered. The lad turned around, his head facing the dead dinosaur. “Weird, I thought they would be bigger.”

  “You two okay?” Jefferson brushed a few flecks of orange paint from Janine’s top, noting that Sandy had already fastened up her sleeve. He so didn’t want to be the realist in this, but he doubted that there would be any medical expert on this planet who would be able to save his friend. Not after witnessing what their weapons could do. “Sandy, how the hell did you make it fire?”

  She shrugged. “I did exactly what you did, Jefferson.” She turned it around in her hand. “It feels lighter now, also, have you noticed the colouring? I’m sure the colours were deeper. God, listen to me banging on again.” She pushed passed them and slammed a hand on David’s shoulder. “Come on, you. Stop staring at it. We need to get out of here. Once you have seen one Tyrannosaur, I guess you’ve seen them all.”

  David shook his head. “We’re not going anywhere,” he cried, his shaking hand pointing towards exactly where they all needed to go.

  Jefferson rushed up to Sandy and David. His jaw dropped at the sight of dozens of two-legged dinosaurs all running towards where they stood. “The meat! They must be after the meat.” He fumbled his last bolt into the groove. “Come on, move back, all of you. We’ve gone through this before. As long as we don’t disturb them.”

  His friend stumbled past him. “Not this time!” he shouted. David took hold of his hand. “We need to get out of here. They’re not after food, the bastards are running away from something. Just look at them, they’re terrified!”

  Jefferson jumped to the side when three small brown dinosaurs, just like the ones that were attacking David in the eatery, ran past them. He looked back over at the doors, thinking that maybe David was right. None of them were taking a slightest bit of interest in the dead Tyrannosaur. Jefferson almost freaked when he saw another face on the other side of that door staring right back at him. One of the soldiers had followed them. “We need to get out of here!”

  None of the others had heard a word he said. Jefferson slowly turned his head and screamed at the sight of another two Tyrannosaurs walking around the corner of the concourse. Only these were twice the size of the one that Sandy had killed. He dropped the crossbow, took hold of Sandy, and joined the panicking flow of the smaller animals. David had already reached the eatery, and he pulled him onto a table when Jefferson reached him. They both grabbed the hands of the girls and lifted them out of the swarm.

  “We need to hide!” David ran down the middle of the eatery, followed by the others.

  Jefferson heard the sound of that energy beam firing, followed by an inhuman scream. He didn’t think that scream belonged to any of those dinosaurs. He heard himself whimpering while both Sandy and Janine helped him to scramble over the counter of the sandwich shop. What were they going to do now?

  Chapter Seventeen

  This feathered fuckwit wasn’t exactly the best conversationalist. Not that Desmond was all that bothered. He rather enjoyed the silence after his fellow workmates had betrayed this poor janitor. Yeah well, Susan here sure fixed their wagons, that’s for damned sure! It took him a full two minutes to stop grinning after watching Susan rip those two losers apart. They sure weren’t going to insult Desmond anymore.

  They were now close to the chamber, to where he was supposed to be meeting up with Zinik-Tow. It seemed like a weird choice of meeting place. Wouldn’t it have been better to meet his pal in a cafe or something? Now that it looked like he was out of danger, Desmond’s stomach reminded him to put something in there. To think that not too long ago, he had some rather nice chicken in his hands.

  Susan stopped besides a large bundle of crumpled clothing. It was only when she dipped her head and tore out a strip of muscle when Desmond discovered it wasn’t just fabric lying on the concrete floor. Pieces of the owner still remained inside.

  He crouched beside the raptor who’d now pushed her muzzle deep inside the mess, intending to examine the clothing. The dinosaur lifted her head and snapped at him, her teeth just missing her fingers by millimetres.

  “Will you stop it off, you annoying pain in the arse?” he yelled. “I don’t want to steal your stinking dinner.”

  The dinosaur growled before lunging at Desmond. The top of her head smacked into his chest, sending the janitor flying backwards. “Fine then, I’ll stay here, feeling the water soak my arse while you fill your guts. See if I care!”

  Desmond was beginning to really dislike Susan. He slowly got to his feet, listening to her growling becoming louder. He squinted, while staring hard at the bits of clothing that weren’t soaked in blood. He then turned his frown upside down when it dawned on him who used to wear those clothes. Desmond was looking at what remained of the loathsome individual who ran the pet shop on the top level. “Oh what a shame,” he said, grinning. “I hope your demise was as painful as it was slow.”

  He edged his way past the feeding animal, idly wondering why those mall employees hadn’t targeted him instead of the pet shop owner. Everybody knew he was up to no good. Yet, they all turned a blind eye to his dodgy dealings. Because this poor janitor just happened to be in the right place at the right time, he was the bad one. They vilified him, that’s what they did. Yeah, well… He showed them.

  Desmond reached the hatchway. He hoisted himself up and began to crawl through the passageway, so hoping that Susan wasn’t a fast eater. The last thing he needed right now was to feel her needle sharp teeth sinking into his buttock cheeks. He quickened his pace at that unpleasant thought.

  He dropped into the chamber and found himself sharing the space with nothing but a collection of shattered bones. There was no sign of his new pal. “What the hell is this?” Desmond walked around the perimeter of the chamber, looking in every pipe. He reached the last one the pipes
which he saw Susan walking through in what felt like an age ago, and held onto the edge while gaping in utter confusion at the collection of alien-like objects filling the space. Equipment didn’t fill all the area. In the middle of the mess, Desmond saw Zinik-Tow furiously labouring over an object which looked very similar to a very small pneumatic drill. If the said object had been dipped into a bath of thick yellow jelly.

  “What the frig is that?”

  The creature looked up from his work and attempted to smile. “It is good to find that my ancient ancestor was successful in locating you. This is very satisfying news as I need you right now, Desmond.” Zinik-Tow stood and leapt along the interior of the pipe, reaching Desmond in moments.

  There was something about the way he was looking at this poor janitor that made him feel very uneasy. Especially the way he held that device in both his clawed hands. “Wait, what’s that supposed to be?” He stepped back when the creature jumped out of the pipe and landed directly in front of him.

  “I am so going to enjoy this,” he hissed, raising the device.

  Desmond whimpered and ran back to the hatch, only to find Susan coming through it. “Oh god, no. Please don’t eat me. I don’t want to die down here!”

  Zinik-Tow wrapped his claws around the janitor’s throat and pulled him back onto his feet. He spun Desmond around and used his own body to hold the shaking man against the wall. “I do envy you,” he said before lightly pressing the flattened edge of the device under Desmond’s chin. “Give him my regards,” he said before he pushed the device into his flesh.

  Desmond couldn’t even scream before darkness filled his entire world.

  ***

  It felt like somebody had replaced his blood with thick syrup. Desmond saw a flash of intense green light before his body crashed into what felt like a carpet made from potato waffles. He counted to five before daring to open his eyes. He ran his fingers over the grid-like floor while looking around where he’d landed. He sure wasn’t in that chamber anymore.

  He waited for a moment longer before picking himself up off the floor. Desmond didn’t have a clue where he was, nor did he care right now. All that mattered was that he was alone, and this poor janitor believed that this state was better for all concerned. Desmond was so getting fed up with people, dinosaurs, and feathered fuckwits either trying to kill him or tear the flesh his bones.

  This wasn’t any part of the shopping centre, that much he did know. He was in a curved walkway the width of two cars. The walls were covered in the same waffle pattern as the floor, unlike the floor, the walls were a sickly dark green. The colour was bloody vile. He walked across the outer wall, deciding that whoever had done the decorating had probably bought a van full of the pea-coloured paint at a discount.

  He placed his hand against the surface and cried out as the texture flattened out to form a smooth rectangle the height of him and twice as wide. Desmond then stumbled back when the colour vanished, and in its place, he found himself looking down at his home planet. At least, it looked like Earth. Only, the last time he looked, it didn’t have two moons, and since when did they have spaceships? Not just one either. The region of space between him and the planet was busier than the dual carriageway outside his house at rush hour. It was around this time when Desmond fully came to realise that he was actually standing inside some kind of space station. “Bloody heck, this is some weird shit going on here!” Desmond backed away from the window, silently wishing the waffle pattern would come back. The view was making him a little sick.

  Something told him that he was no longer home. He sighed, like that wasn’t obvious already. He shook his head and turned away from the view, deciding that the window wasn’t going to disappear after all. The question now was how the bloody hell was he going to get home? Desmond strolled along the curved corridor, staying in the middle, just in case his wandering hands just happened to touch something else. Knowing the shitty luck he’d been having today, his fingers would find a hidden lever that would open a trapdoor under his feet and flush his body out into space.

  Then again, did he really want to go back home? “Yeah, I do,” he muttered, rubbing his stomach. The walls might look like waffles, but Desmond doubted they’d be edible. He stopped walking when he found he was approaching that big window cut into the waffle wall. He had just walked in a circle. “Hello?” he shouted. “Is there anybody home?”

  He stopped by the window again. He watched the spaceships traverse from the two moons, while listening to a rhythmic thud which he felt through the soles of his feet. He found it oddly comforting. Especially as it was the only noise he could hear. Desmond had always preferred the quiet over the mind-draining rasping coming from the gobs of other people.

  “Yeah, I do like the quiet.”

  “Then you will be quite at home here, my young visitor.”

  Desmond spun around and found a creature which looked very similar to Zinik-Tow staring back at him. “Please don’t eat me!” he screamed. Desmond ignored his earlier advice and pressed his whole body against the wall, not caring if he did find his body floating through cold space. Anything would be better than being eaten alive.

  “You are a frightful animal. Is the rest of your species like you? If this is the case, then both of our races are destined for extinction.” The creature sighed before turning around and walking towards the inner wall. “That would be such a shame. After all the work I have put into this as well.” The creature turned its head. “Come along, there is much to discuss and so little time.” It pressed one clawed hand against the wall and stood back as a door-shaped section smoothed out before sliding up.

  Desmond blinked. Watching the creature stand on the threshold, it put its hands on its hips and sighed again. He decided that it wasn’t going to feast on this poor janitor after all. He stood, brushed himself down and walked over to it. Desmond compared this one to Zinik-Tow. Oh, they were clearly the same species, that’s for sure. Yet this one appeared to be much older. Not only in its mannerisms either. It kinda reminded him of some old cockerel, long past its invite with the farmer’s axe.

  He followed it through the door, happy to find smooth grey walls had replaced those disgusting green waffle walls. He saw a line of green letterbox-sized panels at head height. Green writing, at least he assumed it was that, covered each panel. He moved a little closer to the one in front of him wondering what it could say. Desmond did think of asking the creature what it said, but in the end, he backed out. His mind was too busy wondering what the feathered fuckwit tasted like to care about a bunch of stupid signs.

  If the push came to the shove, Desmond reckoned that he’d be able to get one over on this old feathered fuckwit. His only problem would be finding a pot large enough to stuff the carcass inside. Oh, and an oven.

  “Have I been teleported here or something?”

  The creature tutted. “Do not be ridiculous. Displacement field technology can’t move you into an extinct timeline. You haven’t travelled anywhere, Desmond. Your sleeping form is still where it fell a few moments ago. Now, please, follow me and do be quiet. I am not used to company, especially a lower lifeform which should be in a exhibit.” He turned. “Therein lies the paradox which, in your vermin-like way just vomited up.” It tapped its claws along the surface of the wall. Another rectangular panel slid away.

  Desmond stared in fascination at what, at first glance, looked just like a Hollywood alien. It was suspended in a clear fluid. Several pipes fed out from under its light blue rippled flesh and vanished into a pulsating globe by its three webbed feet.

  “You have got to be shitting me,” he gasped. Desmond tapped his finger on the glass. “That’s an alien! An honest to God proper frigging alien!”

  “They called themselves, the Holophours. They were the first exo-planet race which my ancient ancestors annihilated over twelve million years ago. We never called them by their name. To the ones who caused their extinction, they were simply titled ‘one’ as in designation one.”


  “Wait, is this thing still alive?”

  “I see you are most concerned about the destruction of over fourteen billion innocent lives, mammal. I had hope that Zinik-Tow would have chosen a lifeform that at least had some type of empathy built into its basic behaviour.” It looked down at its lower arm, plucked out a piece of yellow fluffy down, and watched it as the feather floated to the floor. “Yes, she is still alive. Ironically, it is their technology which keeps all of our exhibits in their state of suspended animation.”

  “So you have more aliens here? Oh, let me see another one.” Desmond hadn’t been this excited in years. He used to love watching all those black and white alien invasion movies back when he was a kid. Desmond never actually thought he’d see one. He pried his eyes away from it. “What is this place?”

  “The closest analogy which you would understand is that this is a museum. Only you are the first visitor since this structure was towed into this spot. This makes me the curator, the last one from a line that goes back millions of years. My name, for what it is worth, is Maulis-Bow.”

  “Wait, hang on. I know that name. The other feathered fuckwit keeps banging on that you’re some kind of God or something.” Desmond turned back to the exhibit and ran his fingers along the outer shell. “You sure have a cool job. You have any more I can look at?”

  Maulis-Bow nodded. “I have often wondered how different our history would have been if our ancient ancestors had made first contact with another less advanced race than the Holophours. It is likely that the other civilizations would have formed an alliance and wiped out our species before we could do the same to them. You see, Desmond. It took us over twelve thousand years for our early starcraft to cross the vast gulf of space to reach the Holophours’ home planet. The devices we sent were not very technologically advanced. Yet, even those primitive ships were not designed by us. Like everything else we have, Desmond, it had belonged to someone else. In this case, the ships were the last product made from the species who once lived with us on our homeworld.”