The Dinosaur Four

by Geoff Jones

  Buddy ran to the right, chasing the three closest Deinonychus toward the cliff. Two leapt up the rock wall, but the third fell short and slid back down. Buddy pounced, grasping the creature by its neck. The dog shook his head vigorously back and forth.

  The screeching Deinonychus swung its foot, hooking Buddy’s shoulder with a large, terrible claw, but then fell limp as its neck snapped. Buddy dropped the animal and turned back toward the Triceratops, oblivious to his wound.

  The four remaining Deinonychus stood silently in the trees just beyond the remains of the horned animal. Tim and Callie approached the carcass.

  “Buddy, come,” Tim commanded. The dog moved close.

  Callie gave a dry, retching cough as she approached the gutted body of the Triceratops.

  Tim circled the carcass, searching for a section of flesh he could slice off with the shovel blade. He raised the shovel and struck the dinosaur near the middle of its remaining leg. The steel blade bounced off the thick hide.

  “Shit. This isn’t working.” He pulled out a small hunting knife. “This is going to take forever.”

  Buddy growled a low warning.

  “They’re coming back,” Callie said.

  Two of the larger Deinonychus, showing flecks of gold in their feathers, stepped into the clearing and hissed.

  Tim lifted the shovel in one hand and shouted, “YAAAAH!” as he took an exaggerated step toward the nearest dinosaur. The two-foot tall Deinonychus turned, ran into the woods, but looped back, this time coming farther into the clearing.

  Callie suddenly squealed and jumped back. A baseball-sized tick clung to her running shoe with its long, crab-like legs. She screamed again and kicked, sending the tick flying.

  Several other ticks, swollen with blood, moved across the weedy ground in search of their next host.

  A rustling sound came from behind. The two Deinonychus that had fled up the cliff had returned. They watched from a distance.

  “Look at them. They’ve got us surrounded,” Tim said. “We don’t have time for this.”

  “Tim, there are lots of these ticks.”

  “I’m a little more worried about the bird dinosaurs,” Tim said. “The ticks won’t hurt us.” To prove his point, he stepped forward and stomped on the closest one. It exploded with a satisfying burst, like an overripe tomato, but the fluid that splattered outwards was almost black.

  “Yeah, I know,” Callie said. “But these ticks are full of Triceratops blood. We can use them to attract the T-rex.” She found another tick slowly marching from the carcass. Mustering every last bit of emotional fortitude, Callie reached down and used two hands to pick up the tick, grabbing it by the back of its bloated abdomen. Its black legs wiggled and clicked in the air, reaching for her. “Hold open your bag.”

  Tim planted the shovel in the soil and spread open one of the heavy duty trash bags Lisa had given them. The nearest Deinonychus took a few steps closer, but Buddy ran at it, barking. The dinosaur retreated to the trees.

  “Behind us,” noted Callie. The two dinosaurs from the cliff came closer. At the same time, one of the others jumped up onto the remains of the Triceratops and held its feathery arms wide, as if offering a hug.

  “Okay, the ticks will have to do,” Tim said. He had been hoping to have Triceratops meat they could try to cook in case the plan failed, but he didn’t mention that to Callie.

  He feinted toward the dinosaurs behind them. They retreated halfway back to the cliff.

  Callie picked up three more ticks and stuffed them into the bag. Now that it was partially filled, Tim propped it upright on the ground and began to help her. Together they quickly filled the first bag. Tim tied off the opening when he thought it was too heavy to risk adding any more.

  “They’re getting closer,” Callie warned.

  Three Deinonychus surrounded Buddy, holding their arms wide. Sharp talons flexed on their hands. The hair along Buddy’s back stood straight up and his tail was tucked between his legs. He growled, but a whining whimper crept into the sound.

  Tim pulled the shovel out of the ground and jabbed it at the dinosaurs.

  This time they did not retreat. They hissed at him and turned back to the dog.

  Buddy’s lips were pulled away from his muzzle and he snapped his head left and right toward each of the three dinosaurs around him. The one in the center extended its arms straight out to both sides and shook them. The feathers hanging from its arms danced like a waterfall. Tim realized the center animal was distracting Buddy so that its companions could attack from the sides.

  The Deinonychus flanking Buddy on the left crouched, bending its legs for the killing leap.

  Callie pulled a plastic garbage bag from her belt and snapped it open in the wind. It crackled as it filled with air, forming a shiny black balloon. The Deinonychus screamed, fell backwards, and retreated into the woods.

  Callie chuckled. She pulled another empty bag from her belt and handed it to Tim. “Try this.” Together, they opened the bags wide and flapped them in the air. The five remaining Deinonychus scattered. Even Buddy sidestepped away from the snapping plastic, his tail still tucked. Tim and Callie laughed.

  They filled two more bags with ticks, aware that the pack continued to watch them from the shadows. They pulled the last few parasites from the folds of skin behind the Triceratops’ remaining knee. Tim also collected the Deinonychus that Buddy had killed at the base of the cliff. It weighed surprisingly little.

  “Let’s get back, shall we?” Callie said, shouldering a full bag. She did her best to ignore the constant wiggling motion of the ticks inside. “C’mon, Buddy!”

  The dog bristled as the Deinonychus pack moved in to reclaim the carcass. Buddy gave three sharp barks and then turned to follow Tim and Callie back toward the river.

  [ 54 ]

  The trip back to the café went quickly. Tim set a steady pace. The sky had turned a bruise-colored purple and the woods were now darker than when they first fled from the tyrannosaur that morning. Callie wasn’t exactly sure how long they had left, but figured it was around an hour. Their chances of getting home were thin. Don’t give up, she told herself. If they didn’t try, their chances dropped to nothing.

  She believed her chances of seeing Hank again were even slimmer. Al may be right, she thought. The realization hurt, but she couldn’t hide from it any longer. If she made it to the present and used the fail-safe to jump back and forth, Hank still wouldn’t be with her. She would see him briefly in the café and then return to her own timeline without him.

  And you’re a goddamn expert on time travel now? Head Hank did not seem happy about this line of thought. “Head Hank” struck her as a hell of a name for someone who had been decapitated.

  Ha. Ha. Ha. Go ahead and make your little jokes.

  I’m sorry, Callie thought back. I understand that you’re angry. You’ve got a pretty good reason.

  Angry doesn’t begin to cover it, babe. We had something.

  Callie couldn’t argue with that. They did have something. She missed him terribly and she would miss him for the rest of her life. Whatever that’s worth, she thought. We’re going to be stuck here.

  I don’t want to hear any of that now, babe. You need to get your ass back to modern times.

  Ahead, she saw the river crossing with their ruined chunk of building plopped in the middle. They had bait now, but she doubted they could lure the tyrannosaur before time ran out. It could be miles away. What the hell are we thinking? We’re actually trying to bring that monster back here? She wondered if they would be better off looking for shelter, the way Al wanted.

  She felt a chill and the Hank-voice returned. Babe, I’ve only got one more thing to say on that matter. I think you already know this, but listen up. Al is trouble. In her mind, he emphasized the last point by jabbing with his finger. As she approached the building, she saw Al up on the second floor tending to one of the snares.

  Callie dropped her bag of blood-filled ticks by the back cor
ner and went to the sidewalk around front. Helen’s campfire had died. If the plan didn’t work, they would need to build up a good blaze for the night. She shivered at the thought.

  Buddy ran past her into the building and coaxed a half-eaten muffin from Helen. The room was lit by votive candles.

  “We got some bait,” she announced. “I take it there has been no sign of the T-rex?”

  Helen shook her head.

  Lisa stood back behind her counter again, where she seemed the most comfortable. She looked pale, but maybe it was just the light. Callie walked over and spoke quietly. “Listen. I don’t know if you want to hear this or not, but I gotta talk to you about Al.”

  She expected a rebuttal. Callie had never known a woman to sit by and listen to hard truths about the men they were involved with. From her experience, she thought that the only way Lisa might accept criticism about her man was if Callie coaxed it out of her own mouth. That usually took a month’s worth of weekly sessions. More time than she had right now.

  For some reason Lisa did not object, so Callie continued. “He’s nutso for you. That much is obvious. But I think the key term here is ‘nutso.’ I think he has been trying to keep us from getting home.” Lisa stared silently while Callie went on. “Tell me truthfully, would you have ever given him the time of day before all of this happened?” Callie waited, but Lisa did not answer. “You wouldn’t, and he knows that. I think he wants to keep you here.”

  Helen watched from her seat at the table, but Lisa still said nothing.

  Is she losing it? Callie wondered. She had treated dozens of women for posttraumatic stress disorder, usually following some kind of abuse. Lisa showed classic signs of detachment and avoidance. “Just be watchful, will you?”

  Lisa answered her with a very small nod.

  Callie couldn’t hope for much more than that. She picked up a pair of metal coffee pots. “Let’s get ready to make some noise.”

  [ 55 ]

  On the second floor, Al checked the snares to make sure everything appeared in order. Callie and Tim had apparently been successful, he saw, for they had each returned with full plastic bags over their shoulders. Tim carried two of them.

  How long had they been out in the woods together? Al and Lisa had finished preparing the snares almost twenty minutes earlier, and then Al sent her back downstairs to check on Helen. Were Tim and Callie gone long enough to form a relationship? Long enough for Tim to impress her with his charm?

  All four snares were now set. Each cable ran up the side of the building and across the room to the opposite wall. The first cable was tied to the shelf full of computer hardware and the other three were looped around large chunks of loose concrete. All four counterweights were ready to be shoved over the side, where they would fall straight into the river.

  All four snares were also rigged to fail.

  Down below, Tim dropped one bag at the base of the building and climbed awkwardly up the wall with the other. Al put his shirt back on. Even though he was in decent shape, he was nowhere near as lean as Tim.

  “How did it go?” Al asked as Tim pulled himself onto the second floor.

  “There was a pack of small dinosaurs. They were kinda like turkeys, but with more attitude. We have a dead one in one of the bags.”

  Al nodded. If scavenger dinosaurs had moved in, that meant the Tyrannosaurus was long gone. With any luck, they would never see it again.

  Tim looked at the four cables that ran across the building. “How about here? Are things in good shape? We don’t have much time.”

  “See for yourself,” Al invited. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as Tim inspected the wires.

  Each cable had been cut. Once Lisa climbed down, Al had sawed halfway through all four of the heavy wires. He had watched the edge of the woods as he worked, terrified that Tim and Callie would return and catch him in the act. He had finished just in time. As they approached, he had been adjusting the final knot to hide the cut on the back side of the anchor object. His sabotage could only be seen from the side of the building that faced out over the water.

  If by some slim chance the tyrannosaur did return, Al was not about to stand there and watch their plan succeed.

  Tim checked the knot on the closest wire, making sure it was tied securely. He leaned over the side of the building. “It looks good,” he said after a brief glance. “I hope it works.”

  “It has to work, man.”

  Tim nodded and climbed down to get a second bag of bait. Al wondered if Tim had seen the scoring on the cable when he leaned over. He resisted the urge to run to it and check to see if anything was visible.

  As Tim came back up, he extended the trash bag to Al. One quick shove, Al thought. He could easily push Tim off and tell the others that he had slipped. No. The fall wasn’t high enough. The soft mud below might prevent him from even breaking a bone. Al took the bag with one hand and helped Tim up with the other.

  The contents shifted and he realized with revulsion that the bag was moving. He threw it down on the floor.

  With a chuckle, Tim reached in and pulled out a giant tick, its body distended with blood. “We gathered up a bunch of these little guys. Some were still feeding on the carcass, but most were beginning to crawl away.” He dropped the tick and impaled it behind the head with a short spear of rebar. The tick’s legs clacked desperately at the floor. “We got at least two dozen of them,” he explained. Tim held it up like a giant marshmallow on a stick.

  “Do you really think the rex will be attracted by that?”

  Tim leaned over the side of the building. “No, not the tick itself. Watch this.” He held the impaled parasite against the outer wall, directly above the first snare. With his free hand, he used the back side of the shovel to smash the tick against the concrete. A pint of blood spurted out onto the side of the building. Thick black clots rolled down the wall. Tim winced. “If that smell doesn’t attract him over here, nothing will.”

  A second tick had escaped the bag and crawled toward Al. He took the rebar and speared it, wincing at the smell of salty rust. Al held the dying bloodsucker over the side of the building for Tim to smash.

  III

  DAY OF THE DINOSAUR

  [ 56 ]

  The tyrannosaur had fed generously on the Triceratops, eating most of the nutrient-rich organs as well as several hundred pounds of high-protein muscle. A few gallons of blood would not attract it to the café this evening, nor would any pot-banging or clanging.

  What attracted it to the café was the river itself.

  After eating William at the top of the cliff, the tyrannosaur wandered in a wide circle, marking its territory in several spots, until finally it turned back toward the river, where it could quench its thirst. It would drink its fill and then return to the Triceratops carcass to protect what remained of its kill.

  When the tyrannosaur arrived at the clearing and saw the strange object still sitting on the edge of the river, it paused. It felt no hunger, but the instinct to make an ambush kill stopped it just out of sight in the trees.

  Buddy began to bark inside the café.

  The smell of fresh blood, the noise of the dog, and the sight of the small, strange creatures moving around on top of the structure triggered the tyrannosaur’s killing instinct. Any kills, especially easy ones, helped to reinforce ownership of its territory. Twice today, the small, strange creatures had proven to be easy kills.

  - - - - -

  On the open second floor, Tim reached into the bag and stabbed another tick.

  Al said, “Somebody should shut that dog up.” He smashed his own tick against the wall below and returned to the bag.

  “Let him bark,” Tim said. “In fact, we should tell the ladies to go ahead and start beating on the pots and pans now. We don’t have much time.” As Tim leaned over the wall to smash the next tick, the tyrannosaur charged from the woods. Tim noticed it right away, but the dinosaur covered half the distance to the building before he could
pull himself up from the edge of the wall.

  Tim tried to dodge out of the way, but stumbled backwards over a pile of ceiling tiles. “Shit!” The dinosaur snapped at the wall. It thrust its muzzle up, sniffing and eyeing him. Tim scrambled to his feet. He swung the rebar to fling away the tick and then made a stabbing motion at the tyrannosaur’s nose. It struck like a cobra, snapping its teeth together inches from Tim’s hand. His heart skipped. Do not try that again. He dropped the rebar and backed away.

  Callie shouted from below, “Tim! Its foot is in the snare!”

  He called out over the edge of the building. “Which one? Which snare?”

  “The second one back from the sidewalk!”

  Tim scrambled across the room to the second block of concrete and gave it a shove. It teetered and dropped, almost taking Tim with it. He pin-wheeled his arms to keep from falling over the edge along with it.

  - - - - -

  The falling block lurched to a stop and hung in the air. To Al’s dismay, the cable did not break. The copper wire was too strong. He hadn’t cut through enough of it.

  Al moved to the corner and leaned over the wall to look down at the tyrannosaur. The snare looped tightly around the dinosaur’s right leg, just below the calf. Amazingly, their trap was working. However, the concrete hanging off the opposite side of the building did not weigh enough to lift the dinosaur’s foot.

  “It’s caught,” Al called out. “But it doesn’t seem to give a shit.”

  The tyrannosaur sidestepped in Al’s direction. Tim shouted out, “Is it close to the next one?”

  “Yeah, it’s right on it,” Al moved quickly away from the edge.

  Tim shoved the next chunk of rubble over the side.

  This concrete block fell, pulled the rope tight, and snapped free as the cable broke right where Al had scored it. They heard a solid splash as the rubble landed in the river below. Al smiled, in spite of himself.