Better Off Undead

by Martin H. Greenberg

  He lunged for the front tire. Missed.

  Hope fluttered in my chest. Maybe he was too slow. Maybe the car would zoom past and he’d be smart enough to let it go by.

  Dickie wasn’t that smart.

  He ran under the car, jaws snapping at the opposite back tire—which ran right over him. I heard the kathump and squeak of the shocks. The car kept right on going like nothing had happened. Like it hadn’t just re-killed my best friend.

  “Dickie!’’ I ran into the street.

  Dickie was nothing but a flattened lump in the middle of the road. And even though I wanted to cry, I noticed he was not bleeding. And he was still breathing.

  “Dickie?’’ He wagged his tail and slowly peeled himself off the pavement. His legs were working pretty good, and so was the rest of him, I guess. Maybe he was a little flatter in the middle but it didn’t seem to bother him. He shook his head and sneezed. Then he wagged his tail harder and barked at the retreating car.

  He was fine. More than that, he was happy and excited, like he’d just gotten off a roller coaster ride.

  “You’re crazy. Do you think you’re indestructible?’’ I rubbed the sides of his face and didn’t feel anything more broken than usual. Maybe he was indestructible. Maybe I’d done a really good job when I brought him back to life.

  “Promise me no more cars today, okay, boy? I know you like it but it freaks me out.’’

  He barked and licked my hand, still excited about chasing the car. And I knew we had an agreement—no more cars today. But tomorrow was a whole new story.

  WALKING FOSSIL

  Robert A. Hoyt

  I could name any number of strange things to run into while operating a digger in a construction site. But the early morning sunlight glinting off the leathery skin of what looked to me very much like a dinosaur gave me the idea that my list was about to expand. In fact, the only thing that was working against that possibility was the fact that the creature was very much alive for something several million years extinct.

  I had been trying to forget about the recent loss of the best hunting dog I’d ever had, a purebred pointer named Rex that I had inherited from my father. After tossing and turning most of the night, I finally just clocked in a couple of hours early. After all, I wasn’t sleeping anyway.

  Strangely, at the moment, I felt a great urge to be home in bed.

  All right, granted, the creature wasn’t exactly horrible, but then again, I hadn’t really seen any other dinosaurs to compare it to.

  It was covered in dark brown soil that obscured most of it, but exaggerated a stiff little frill on the head and a thick tail. Standing on two legs it was still only about six feet tall, with a great big sharp nose and small, comical forearms. Its eyes were slightly yellow, and in some places, it seemed to be missing strategic pieces of flesh, making it seem as though it had been put together from a kit and someone had lost bits from the box.

  Brandon, a tenuous friend and my acting supervisor since his father owned the company anyway, came running over from his place near the foreman’s trailer, a cheap cigarette in hand and an incredulous expression on his face. In theory, no one was supposed to be in the trailer unless they had a reason to be, but I wasn’t about to argue with him.

  He hung around there simply because it annoyed the foreman to have the trailer smelling of cigarette smoke.

  I jumped out of the digger to talk to him.

  “What the hell is that thing, Andrew?’’ he said, as though I had caused its appearance.

  I shrugged and leaned against the digger. “Beats me, Brander . . . looks like a dinosaur, but that ain’t possible. At a guess, I’d say it’s some kinda lizard from a cave under there.’’

  He looked disgusted and stared at the creature. “Sick lizard, by the look of it. We can’t keep the damned thing out in broad daylight. Someone’ll get the wrong idea, and the project will be held up for months.’’ Turning to me, he said, “We’re gonna have to get rid of it, and quickly. The rest of the crew and the usual heavy traffic will be around any minute now.’’

  Deep down, as he said that, I had some inexplicable grumbling misgivings about the idea of reburying it. There was some ephemeral, distant reason that it wasn’t kosher, but I couldn’t place it.

  On the other hand, I’d have to be insane not to get rid of it. He was right; we were in a city center, and one look at that thing would have a dozen of the investors fighting to get out before some animal rights activist group sued.

  But the obvious solution had already made itself quite apparent in my head. “The best way I can think of that’s quick is to push it back in that hole again,’’ I said, slowly. “It can’t possibly withstand a few hundred pounds of dirt being dropped on it after that. And, later, if we find a dead lizard while digging, well, no problem, right?’’

  For a couple seconds, he seemed to be thinking about it, and then he slowly worked it out mentally. The idea clicked. He grinned broadly at me, his smile widening his round, stubble-infested face to a squat oval, and he gestured wildly with the cigarette. “Beautiful. Keep thinking like that, and I’ll see you get promoted.’’

  He glanced at the animal, calculating. His grin faded with the effort.

  He had the expression of a man with something on the tip of his tongue. An ephiphany struck and he turned to me. “Why push it and then bury it?’’ he said slowly. “I’ll hang back, and on the count of three, you charge him with the rig. Two birds with one stone.’’

  I nodded. It was cold, but it made sense.

  I climbed on the rig, and Brandon set himself up as a human barrier near the building shell, low to the ground in case he was charged.

  One finger up. I moved the ignition into position.

  Two fingers up. I juggled the shovel lever towards dump.

  Three fingers up. The engine roared to life under my hands. Galvanized by the sudden noise, the creature jumped. Brandon’s eyebrows arched.

  And my hopes sank.

  Unfortunately, the animal didn’t have the slightest interest in going back in the hole, and it charged the storage trailers instead of Brandon.

  Our beautifully simple plan had just become complex. The storage trailers were right by the road. Any passersby would end up in full rubberneck mode the second they passed. The last thing we wanted was witnesses.

  I swore. The rig wasn’t agile enough to get between the trailers. We were running out of time. The sun was almost fully crested now.

  I jumped off the rig.

  “Damn it, Rockhold,’’ Brandon said, turning my last name into a swear word, “Why didn’t you move the rig forward?’’

  Before I could explain that the creature had moved too fast, he cut me off.

  “Come on. We haven’t got time to wrangle it now. We’ll never have him over there in time. Let’s just try to shove it in the supplies trailer. We’ll deal with it tonight, after the crew leaves.’’

  Glancing at my watch, I decided that this was neither the time nor the place to argue. I ran around and opened the trailer door for him.

  Brandon didn’t take a moment to catch his breath after the setback. One thing any of his casual acquaintances knew was that he swung a mean right. Three seconds later, that same wicked uppercut caught the animal straight across the jaw, and six feet of dirty lizard toppled into the trailer like a domino.

  Brandon massaged his knuckles and turned to me, growling in a low voice. “Don’t even say a word. Remember that as far as this project is concerned, Andrew, it’s him or us. Get used to treating him rough, ’cause it’ll be worse tonight. We’re coming back at midnight and finishing this. Until then, you and I don’t let anyone else in here. You say anything, even accidentally, I break your jaw.’’ He snapped shut the lock, and tucked his work gloves in his back pocket, wiping his palms on his shirt.

  Behind him, the first truck pulled in. We had cut it very fine indeed.

  Brandon had already turned away, but his entire back was tense. Something abo
ut his tone of voice was entirely too dominant for the part of me that resisted authority. I couldn’t explain why, but I felt strangely sympathetic for our recently acquired captive.

  The day gradually got progressively worse. I spent a considerable amount of time ducking over to intercept people trying to get supplies from the trailer. The rest of the time I spent thinking about the animal.

  Part of the problem was that I felt an odd connection to it. Inexplicably, I felt strangely paternal. I told myself repeatedly that it was simply the fact that it was potentially a very valuable scientific find.

  I would have bet the rear axle of my truck that it was a dinosaur, regardless of whatever danger it presented to our future. I didn’t know how, but I knew that it was important.

  Then, as I was sitting far away from Brandon, who was talking as usual with his crew, something occurred to me. I didn’t want the animal hurt. Somehow, it offended the part of me that the only animal I had ever known was closest to . . . the hunter. My dad and my granddad, and even old Rex, knew and taught me the rules; I’d known them since I was a child. If a creature was in pain, if it was sick, it was expected you’d kill it, out of mercy. If it was defenseless and trapped, though, it became something else again.

  The truth was that the animal didn’t look to be in good shape, but it acted healthy and it seemed aware. I judged that the exact reason for my misgivings was that I couldn’t let Brandon harm an innocent animal without at least giving it a sporting chance. Which, seeing as the dino’s natural environment was several millennia out of reach, was quite probably impossible.

  I was so burdened with this thought that I caught Brandon just after clocking out to try to convince him to reconsider the dino’s fate.

  But before I could begin, he cut me off. “Andy, go home as usual. Forget about the animal. I’ll get some boys together tonight, and we’ll take care of it. You—’’

  He shook his head and spat, then grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me close so no one could hear, “Damn it, Andy. I can’t have you losing your nerve. We’ve got a lot on the line here, and we’ve gotta make sure nobody sees that thing. If you’re gonna flinch even when I punch it, I damn sure don’t want you anywhere near here when we kill it and bury it.’’

  I was shocked. “Right here? On the site? Are you crazy? This morning we were desperate, but if you have time, then anywhere else would be better. If someone sees you, you’ll be in a bigger mess than before. Finding it while digging is one thing, but not finding it is better.’’

  “Not finding it is better,’’ he growled. “I can’t risk someone seeing us take it somewhere else. I take no chances. Go home. You and your glass stomach will bankrupt me, otherwise.’’

  My face creased at that insult. “Weigh your words, Brandon. You’re talking to the person who has bested you in every hunt. At least my “glass stomach’ is sitting next to a heart.” I grabbed his wrist and twisted, suddenly very fed up, “Now listen closely. Never mistake good hunting ethics with inability or squeamishness. You know as well as I do that this—’’ I pointed at the trailer, “—isn’t a fair fight.’’

  He stuck his face in mine. “Fair fight nothing. It’s threatening the jobs of a lot of hard-working men. That isn’t fair either. Life’s tough all over.’’

  I couldn’t argue that. It was true that it was inconvenient. But it still wasn’t right to kill an innocent animal for convenience, and I punctuated the idea with a neat twist of Brandon’s arm that sent him away, swearing. I didn’t stick around to listen.

  Realizing I was crazy even as I thought it, I made up my mind.

  No matter what, I had to get to that dinosaur tonight.

  And I would have to be there before Brandon.

  I waited a long while for Brandon to leave. I had ducked off the road and I was watching from a covered parking lot. They were looking around suspiciously, then one of them headed towards my apartment. I expected that.

  The way I saw it, Brandon would suspect I’d try something. He’d move back the timetable. I had to beat him to it. I knew that he wasn’t crazy enough to go earlier then ten thirty, not at this time of year. And that meant that I would.

  It was a long, tense stakeout. As the lights fell, I had a few candy bars for my dinner and waited.

  Finally, after an eternity, the dashboard clock read ten exactly. I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to go now. If I were going to carry through on this moral impulse, I had to make sure I did it after heavy traffic, and I had to time it just right.

  Getting to the construction site was simple, because traffic was minimal in the still-redeveloping part of the inner city after rush hour. There was relatively little to do until the abandoned shop fronts were rebuilt, so the only people out this late were, for the most part, on their way home.

  Unfortunately, a less simple obstacle was the gate on the construction site, which was barred and locked to keep people from breaking in and doing some creative “street art’’ on expensive pieces of equipment. On the other hand, I noted that the fence was buried under a mound of dirt about twelve feet high, just a few dozen yards to the right of the gate, hidden near a huge maple.

  In a sudden crazed moment, I reached down and downshifted my truck’s four-wheel-drive into the low range setting used for thick snow.

  “Ain’t nothing like off-roading.’’ I said to myself as I rolled over the top of the mound and into the construction site with all the quiet delicacy of a meteor strike.

  I was out the door before the dust had settled on the fenders, fumbling for the spare key to the supplies trailer Brandon had carelessly left out a couple weeks back. It was fifteen past ten now. I was pushing my time, playing it cautious.

  I pulled open the door, and was greeted by the strange sight of the creature belly-up in a pile of cement dust, with its tongue lolling out the side of its mouth ridiculously. I ran to it.

  It opened one large eye and said, “rrmuuuurrr?’’ sounding much like a happy kitten.

  “I’m here to protect you . . . come on.’’ I was clearly insane to be talking to a giant lizard.

  The creature flipped over and yawned, but didn’t seem overly interested in moving. Desperately, I looked around for a rope. Lying underneath the thing’s giant neck was a rope coil.

  I glanced at my watch. The display read 10:18. I panicked. With strength beyond my own, I pulled the rope out from under the dinosaur and strung it around its neck. It protested, but I braced and started pulling it out the door.

  I was halfway out the door when I heard the roar of a pickup truck, accompanied by several other cars approaching at top speed.

  Brandon!

  I yanked as hard as I could. But my truck was still a good ten yards away, and the creature was stubborn.

  There was a tinny metallic crash as the pickup barreled through the gates without slowing down and pulled into a sideways skid. The occupant didn’t even bother yelling, instead rolling down the window and pointing a shotgun straight at me.

  Where the hell did Brandon find these guys? After a few rounds of beer in a redneck bar?

  In the glare of the headlights, I heard a shot ring out just as I dodged aside.

  The pickup driver’s aim went wide, his shot ricocheting near the lizard’s feet. The animal bolted. Going full tilt, I found myself being dragged around my truck. With all my strength, I grabbed the passenger door, braced, and used the animal’s own momentum to swing him around. He crashed into the truck full tilt, pushing me into the driver’s seat.

  The passenger door slammed shut as I hit the accelerator, the vast mass of lizard overflowing the seat next to me and jamming me against my own door. Without thinking, I steered through the framework of the building’s front doors, rammed pieces of plywood out of the way with the bumper and drove right between two supports at the back of the building with less than an inch to spare on either side.

  My truck rioted onto the road, I stomped the accelerator and raced down the street, hanging a sharp left a
t the corner. I heard the roar of engines fading into the distance at the crossroads, but I was leaving nothing to chance.

  I weaved through the mostly unlit ghettos of the city, not daring to drop my speed below seventy-five for a single moment, lest my pursuers—if there were any—catch up.

  At the city limits, I skidded onto a back road that was invisible at night, and ditched the hard gravel for unpaved forest halfway out, cutting five miles off my trip in a wild flurry of tree trunks and dead branches.

  My cell phone buzzed as I was driving frantically over a shallow creek bed. I didn’t bother to answer it.

  A mile or so into the forest, I stopped and sorted out the lizard and the phone.

  The phone had a text message on it from Brandon. It read, in full: You’re a crazy bastard. Your problem now. Getting a beer.

  A second text message followed: P.S. You’re fired.

  Given that I had been shot at by some of his goons, I could have been more choked up. The dinosaur was more important in my mind. It was still caked in dirt, so my seats were a mess. It was perched on my seat, with its tiny forearms resting on the dashboard, and a sublimely happy expression painted on its face. After a few minutes, I managed to loosen the rope around his neck a little, and in return he gave an appreciative gurgle.

  At last, after much exhaustion, I rolled onto the road near a gated community where my parents had a hunting cabin. I couldn’t go back to my apartment, and the cabin up here was furnished well enough for a few days while I sorted out the dinosaur.

  My mind suddenly focused as I approached the gate booth. I looked over at my unwieldy passenger, and then at the somewhat sleepy-looking gate guard.

  Well, I thought Let’s try the direct approach.

  I pulled the truck right up to the window.

  “Hello, sir. Visiting? Or do you have a cabin up here?’’ he said mechanically, without even looking up.