by Geoff Jones
Patricia remembered her son going through a phase where he was obsessed with books that showed cutaway views of buildings, vehicles, and even made-up things like movie spaceships. The café looked like it belonged in one of those books. She squinted and thought about it. No. The café really looked like the part that was missing from those pictures. Back in downtown Denver, the rest of the eight-story building must look like it belonged in a cutaway book.
The building scoop on the riverbank consisted of the café, most of the floor above, and part of the sidewalk out front, which jutted out over the water at an angle. Patricia saw nothing to explain how it had gotten there.
This situation needed leadership. The two women inside were not up to the job. The old one was injured. It was just a scrape, but she was having difficulties with the simple act of clotting.
Callie, the jogger who was patching her up, seemed dazed, almost in shock. She had not even come outside yet. She did know a little medicine, Patricia noted. That might come in handy.
Hank, Callie’s cradle-robber boyfriend wearing the silly short-shorts, was the last person Patricia would put in charge. He stood at the edge of the sidewalk and looked down at the surrounding clearing. Patricia wondered if he was afraid to step off the building. She herself had thought twice before stepping down. What if the café returned to Denver and left her behind? Then she remembered the ticking sound. If the event was to happen again, the ticking sound would give her the warning she needed to get back inside. She tried to cut the guy some slack. Not everyone could be as observant as her, especially in the middle of a disaster.
Beth, the young girl with the smart mouth, pushed past Hank and hopped down. She began to wander around the building. The move struck Patricia as more careless than brave. The girl’s sarcastic attitude ruled out any sort of leadership possibilities.
William hopped down and caught up to Beth, taking her arm. “Hey, don’t get too far away, okay?” She nodded in reply.
Patricia noted the exchange and gave William a check in the plus column. His close-cut hair showed grey at the temples, which indicated maturity. Another plus. Yet for some reason, he had never risen beyond a manual labor job. He wore a uniform with his name stitched on the front. It was a strike against him. The fact that he was black and everyone else here was white meant strike two. Patricia did not care herself, but most people wanted a leader who looked like them, someone with the same sort of background. She decided not to make a call about William quite yet.
Three candidates remained: the woman who had fallen into the river, the guy who had jumped in after her, and the man who had run off into the woods after both of them. Falling into the river ruled out the barista. Her name is Lisa, Patricia remembered. The man who jumped in had shouted it. Patricia never forgot a name. Remembering names helped put people at ease and demonstrated your own authority.
The younger man who had gone into the woods to help them was worth considering. He hadn’t done anything quite so foolhardy as jumping into a strange river that appeared out of nowhere, but he had shown bravery and initiative.
Patricia had been in Denver to shut down a hard disk manufacturing plant that was losing money and showed no promise of turning around. Patricia herself had made the decision. It was the right choice, even if it meant putting fifty people out of work. Her boss had wanted to wait until the end of the quarter, to give the plant one last chance, but she had fought him on it and won. She knew the move made her seem like a hard-ass and she was glad for the reputation. At the same time, shutting down the plant six weeks early had allowed her to divert costs and provide a little extra severance. This would make the company seem more caring, and she had already talked to the marketing department about spinning the story in that direction. Not spinning, she reminded herself, positioning. The vice president of marketing hated the word “spin.”
Patricia watched the downstream woods for Lisa or her would-be rescuers. Above the trees, the sky had brightened to a dull grey.
William joined her on the mudflat, followed closely behind by Morgan. The edges of Patricia’s mouth curled up. You completely forgot about this fellow, she chided herself. Of course she had. Morgan was a shiftless punk who probably never held a job for more than six months and considered drinking in a parked car the height of leisure. One of Patricia’s greatest fears was that her son might grow up to be like Morgan.
“I can’t believe it,” Morgan said, looking around.
Patricia ignored him and gestured downstream. “That direction is clearly east.” The time change must be important, she thought. The sun had been up in Denver, but they had arrived here before sunrise. That meant they must have moved a few hours to the west. Considering this, plus the humidity, Patricia deduced that they were somehow in the Pacific Northwest, probably near the coast. She doubted anyone else had figured this out.
The bouncing light of a cell phone appeared in the woods downstream and three figures emerged from the jungle. Lisa had her arm around the man who had jumped into the river after her. He had rescued her, which certainly counted for something. The trio stopped at the edge of the clearing and gaped at the building. The younger man put away his cell phone.
They looked just as confused as everyone else. Patricia waved them over. When they grew close, she stuck out her hand and said, “I’m Patricia Hayman, and these gentlemen are William and Morgan.”
Tim and Al gave their names but Lisa merely stared at the building with an empty look until she noticed the other barista. “Beth!” They ran to one another and embraced tightly.
Patricia continued watching the other two. Al, the hero of the day, was unable to hold eye contact. His light blue dress shirt looked beige from the muddy water and his sleeveless undershirt stood out in stark relief, hugging his body. His wet hair clung to his forehead in a jagged pattern. He fidgeted around and kept looking over toward Lisa.
Tim crossed his arms. “Any idea what happened?” He seemed to want someone to take charge.
Patricia was happy to oblige. On her office wall, a framed print showed a foaming Rottweiler with the caption: If you want a job done right, do it yourself. Patricia concluded that she was the best and therefore only person to take charge of this group.
She told the others, “We need to stay together, make sure everyone is okay, and collect all of the information we have.”
Morgan gawked at her. “What are you, the principal or something? We don’t have any fucking information.”
William put a hand on his shoulder. “Easy. She’s trying to help.”
Patricia turned to Al and Tim. “Nice work, you two.” Providing positive feedback would help establish her leadership. “You saved that woman’s life.” Al nodded at this.
Tim lifted his chin in the direction of the café. “Is everyone else all right? How many of us are there?” Patricia gave the young man a second look. He was asking the right questions. Tim was the only one in their group who did not seem completely out of place on the riverbank. He looked like a modern cowboy, wearing a blue chambray shirt, jeans with a belt, and yellow leather work boots that belonged in the mud. He only needed to swap his baseball cap for a cowboy hat. He looked strong, too. Patricia decided that Tim was someone to keep close by.
“There are ten of us,” she answered. “The older woman skinned her shin pretty badly, but everyone else is okay.”
Al asked, “Lady, do we know anything? Anything at all?” Patricia detected desperation in his voice.
They were looking to her for answers. “Call me Patricia, please.” She spoke crisply. “I don’t know how we got here, but there is something you had better come and see.” She led them up onto the sidewalk over the rushing brown water. She squatted to remove a dishrag that someone had placed over the severed hand.
Morgan said, “I saw her right out front just before this happened. I got a face full of glass, but she lost her damn hand.”
When the dishrag came off, Tim dropped to his knees.
“What’
s the matter?” asked William.
“My girlfriend, she -” Tim leaned over the hand, examining it from all angles. “She was supposed to meet me here.”
After a moment, Tim pulled away and shook his head. “The fingernails are too long. Julie’s are cut short.”
Al crossed his arms. “So back in Denver, there’s a woman who lost her hand and a big empty hole where this place used to be. I get it. But where are we?”
Patricia replaced the dishrag and stood up. “I have a theory about that.” She waited, wanting their full attention. Now was the perfect time to explain how she had deduced their new location, Oregon or possibly Washington State.
Before she could begin, William stated, “Not where, my friend, when. We have gone back in time.”
“What in the world would make you say that?” asked Patricia.
The delivery man’s eyes held wide as he slowly raised his hand to point. “Them dinosaurs coming out of the forest.”
[ 9 ]
Nine giants stood at the tree line on the other side of the river. The sound of the water rushing below the sidewalk had masked the noise of their approach. The dinosaurs stood on four legs, with two shorter ones in the front and massive tree trunks in the back, which supported thick tails extending out into the air behind them. The largest were bigger than elephants. They stared across a thin layer of ground fog at the giant foreign block. This is their watering hole, Tim realized.
“That is one fugly duckface,” said Beth. She hurried back toward the building, pulling Lisa with her.
The long face of the lead dinosaur flattened out toward its mouth. Bulbous mounds of red, blistery flesh grew around its eyes and nose, giving it a diseased appearance. Strands of thick mucus hung from its nostrils and a cloud of flies buzzed around its head.
“They’re duckbills,” said William. “Duckbilled dinosaurs! My boys could tell you exactly what kind they are.”
“Are they dangerous?” asked Patricia, shaking her head slowly back and forth.
“They’re plant eaters,” William answered. “But look at them. They’re huge.”
“They’re amazing, is what they are,” said Patricia. She climbed down from the sidewalk and sidestepped along the bank, staring at the herd across the river. Thirty feet of rushing water, plus at least thirty yards of mud on the far shore separated her from the creatures.
- - - - -
The lead dinosaur, a hadrosaur species known as Edmontosaurus Regalis, walked a few steps down from the trees. It rose up on its back legs and angled its face toward the foreign object, sniffing. It did not like the large, strange-smelling structure on the river bank. One instinct demanded flight. The herd should leave before any trouble occurred. Another instinct said that territory could not be yielded. The rest of the herd remained at the forest’s edge, motionless except for the gentle oscillations of their tails.
- - - - -
“Ma’am, do you really think it’s smart to get so close?” Tim asked. Behind him, Beth stepped up onto the sidewalk, still pulling Lisa by the hand.
Patricia waved her off. “Look at them. They’re harmless. They’re plant eaters, like the man said.” She stepped forward until the tips of her expensive boots extended over the edge of the bank. “Someone take my picture. Is there enough light to get a picture?”
The dinosaur in front bobbed its head a half dozen times, scattering the swarm of flies. Bobbed his head, Tim noticed. A pink fire hose hung between the creature’s back legs. “Patricia!” he whisper-shouted. The animal turned at the noise.
William had seen the same thing. “Lady. That’s a bull. Like a bull moose.”
“Guys, I appreciate your concern, but they are on the other side of the river.” She spoke slowly, as if explaining things to children.
The hadrosaur dropped back onto all fours. As its front legs landed on the ground, a clump of dead skin sloughed off the side of its neck.
It charged, accelerating into a full-out gallop. At forty feet in length, it covered the distance across the mudflat in five bounding steps.
Lisa let out a small squeal as Beth pulled her into the café. Al followed them inside, shoving Morgan and Hank into the building simply because they were in the way.
Tim and William stood alone on the sidewalk. It’s a feint, Tim thought as he watched the dinosaur run down to the edge of the water. Animals made false charges to scare away threats. A rutting elk had charged him once on a hunting trip, and then stopped some fifteen feet away.
William hopped down onto the muddy shore and started toward Patricia.
Inside the café, Hank watched through the front wall. “Are you stupid?” he roared. “Get the hell in here!” Tim wasn’t sure if he was shouting at William, Patricia, or both of them.
Callie grabbed her fiancé’s arm. “Hank.” She tried to pull him deeper inside the café, but he shook her off.
On the river bank, Patricia held up one hand. “There, there,” she said as the bull reached the opposite shoreline. “Mustn’t show fear,” she muttered out the side of her mouth. The color had drained from her face.
The animal did not slow down as it plowed into the river. A wake of water sprayed high into the air and rained down on the sidewalk. Even half-submerged, the dinosaur towered above Patricia as it closed the gap. The bull’s eyes, on either side of its massive head, were unable to see directly forward. It slowed slightly and twisted its neck so that it could look down at the woman. Its right eye glared at her over the red bulbous wattle growing across its face.
William, wet from the spray kicked up by the animal, reached out for Patricia, though he was still a good six feet away from her. He clawed at empty air.
Patricia began to backpedal. One boot stuck in the mud and her foot came out of it. She caught herself and kept her balance, but grimaced as the wet sticky mud soaked into her sock.
With an effortless lunge, the animal burst onshore in front of her.
Patricia held out both hands as the hadrosaur reared up on eight-foot hind legs. Its front feet came down together. One slid off of Patricia’s shoulder, separating her arm from her body as it passed, while the other struck her chest. Both feet connected with the ground an instant later, crushing the woman beneath. She died immediately, but the dinosaur continued to stomp, drumming Patricia’s corpse into the ground. Its foot connected with her head and disappeared shin-deep into the mud. Blood splayed up on the underside of its chest and neck.
Screams came from inside the building.
“What the shit!” shouted Morgan.
Hank pushed his head through the open window frame and bellowed at Tim, “Kid, do something! Don’t just stand there like a fucking idiot!”
Tim gave Hank a sidelong glance. Do what? If you’ve got any great ideas, come on out here.
William fell backwards onto the ground, unable to look away as the dinosaur continued to drill the woman into the mud. His mouth hung open in a soundless gasp.
The hadrosaur finally stopped and grew still, its feet firmly planted where moments earlier Patricia Hayman had stood. It slowly turned its head toward William and the café behind him, blinking absently whenever a fly buzzed too close.
William crab-crawled backwards across the ground.
The hadrosaur lifted a bloody forefoot out of the mud and rotated toward William. It blew out air in a long, slow hoot and charged.
Tim climbed halfway off the sidewalk and grabbed William under the arms. Ten years of working as a carpenter had made him strong. He hefted the man up onto the concrete just before the hadrosaur reached the building. They backpedaled together toward the front entrance until they felt hands grab them and pull them inside.
The bull stopped by the sidewalk and let out a low, coughing honk. Across the river, the rest of the herd lumbered down to the opposite shore. Half of them waded across.
Lisa wailed. Al took her in his arms and held her. Everyone shifted deeper inside, trying to disappear into the darkest recesses. The wall containing the bo
okshelves blocked their view of the bull hadrosaur just a few feet away, but they could see several of the others across the water.
The herd seemed to relax now that there were no longer any people visible. The other dinosaurs waited while the alpha took a long drink from the river, and then they all took their turns, two or three at a time. A pair of juveniles, each the size of a camel, stood close by their mothers.
The dinosaurs spread out around the mud flats, most of them keeping their distance from the structure in the middle. The bull hadrosaur walked alongside the building and sprayed three gallons of urine against the outside wall as he passed.
[ 10 ]
Callie squatted with the others on the black rubber mat behind the counter. She felt light headed.
“Will someone please explain to me what is going on?” pleaded Helen. Callie realized that the woman had not seen the attack.
Beth, breathing hard, said, “There’s a herd of duckbilled dinosaurs outside and one of them went on a rampage and charged that Patricia lady and it trampled her, and -”
“Sweetie, you can talk faster than I can listen.”
“We are in the past,” explained Callie. Saying it out loud made it sound silly. She had to be dreaming. She needed to pee and any minute now she would wake up and walk to the bathroom. She would tell Hank about her dream in the morning and they sure as hell would not stop at the café after their jog. She took Helen’s hand. “We are in the time of the dinosaurs, and one of them just killed a woman.”
“Killed her?” said Morgan, trembling. “It pounded that bitch into the ground!” He somehow whispered and shouted at the same time.
“Hey,” said Hank. “Call her a bitch again and I will throw you out there.”