Dinosaur Thunder

by James F. David

  “Officer Wilson,” Jeanette said, standing. “This can’t be good.”

  “No, it’s good,” he said nervously.

  Officer Wilson’s eyes quickly scanned Jeanette, from her stained short-shorts to her tool belt to the tank top with tears that turned it into a peekaboo shirt. Not expecting visitors, Jeanette had not bothered with a bra. Officer Wilson was having trouble keeping his eyes on her face.

  “I just came by to update you and see if you needed anything,” Officer Wilson said.

  “Are you working undercover?” Jeanette asked, putting her hands on her hips.

  “No, I’m off duty. I was passing by and I thought I would stop in and make sure everything is okay.”

  “You live near here?” Jeanette asked.

  “Not right near here,” Officer Wilson said, “but it’s not that far out of my way.”

  “Well, thanks, Officer Wilson, I appreciate your concern.”

  Worried that if she put her body in motion, it would be too much for Officer Wilson, Jeanette held still, her hands still on her hips.

  “Les,” Officer Wilson said. “My name is Les.”

  “Les,” Jeanette said.

  “Are you fixing something?” Officer Wilson said, using the tool belt as an excuse to scan her body again.

  “I’m all done,” Jeanette said.

  “So, you run the office, and do the repairs, and everything? What about your boyfriend?” Les said, looking around.

  “He’s out on a job,” Jeanette said. “You said something about an update?”

  “Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. I’m sure there’s no problem, but I thought you should know that a couple of the guys we arrested have a pretty sharp lawyer. He’s making a big deal out of the fact I impersonated a code inspector. It’s a bogus argument. I don’t think a judge will buy it.”

  “What would it mean if a judge did buy it?” Jeanette asked.

  “It’s not going to happen, but if it did, it might mean some of the evidence would be kicked.”

  “And that would mean?” Jeanette probed.

  “Well, it could mean the charges would have to be dropped.”

  “And they would be released?” Jeanette asked.

  “It won’t happen,” Les said.

  Jeanette shook her head in disbelief. The mess next door had nothing to do with her, but somehow she was being drawn into the middle of it.

  “Officer Wilson … Les, maybe you should give me your phone number again. I lost your napkin.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Les said, frantically searching pockets for a piece of paper.

  Jeanette bent over, taking a yellow pad and pen from the box on the floor. Les gawked as she bent and then stood again. Distracted, Les only managed to take the pad and pen from Jeanette after two tries. Les wrote his number and then wrote it a second time underneath in clearer handwriting.

  “If you need me for anything, please call,” Les said. “Anything.”

  “I’ll keep the number,” Jeanette said, sticking it to a bulletin board already papered with a blizzard of scraps.

  “Anything,” Les repeated.

  Jeanette could not help but smile at the nervous policeman. When she did, revealing the gap in her teeth, Les beamed.

  15

  Strangers

  T. rex is an almost perfect killing machine. With large feet and powerful legs, it can reach speeds of up to 35 mph on open ground. Its massive jaws are so powerful, it could bite through the frill of a triceratops. As we have seen in the preserves, the only animal a T. rex has to fear is another T. rex.

  —John Roberts, OSS, Director of Field Operations

  Unknown Time

  Neverland

  Jacob and Crazy Kramer ran until they could not run anymore, and then climbed a tree to spend the night. Once in the forest, the Community had scattered, disappearing in deep shadows. It was hours since Jacob had seen anyone other than Crazy. Worried about his family, Jacob could only hope they had found a haven. Night in the forest was bad, but the dawn energized the carnivores, which were very efficient eating machines.

  Impatient to find his family, Jacob climbed down when there was barely enough light to see.

  “Damn, what a night,” Crazy said, dropping out of the tree and landing with a loud thud. Covered in dried blood—some of it his own—a strip of cloth tied around his head to keep his hair out of his eyes, and wielding a machete, Crazy Kramer was the stuff of nightmares.

  “So, where do you think everyone else is?” Crazy asked.

  “Shhhh!” Jacob said.

  Crazy Kramer was a mixed blessing. Strong and fearless, Crazy was the man to have next to you in a fight. Unfortunately, Crazy was also dumb and reckless.

  “Right,” Crazy said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Where to?”

  “The rendezvous,” Jacob said.

  “Right,” Crazy said in his near whisper.

  As fanatical as the reverend was, he also had a sensible streak and planned for contingencies. If catastrophe befell the Community, they were to find their way to an old church in the ruins of the city. This church was one of the few buildings that had not collapsed when they came to the land of dinosaurs, and had not burned in one of the subsequent fires. The church was a survivor, like the people of the Community, and that made the building special to most, but the church held special significance to the reverend. The reverend’s father had been pastor of the church.

  Leading the way, his rifle always ready, Jacob walked carefully through the forest, avoiding open areas. Keeping a westerly direction, he watched for landmarks to guide him to the church, where he hoped his family was waiting. The problem was that it was years since Jacob had been to the church, and between the fires, earthquakes, and ever-expanding forest, less and less of the city could be found. Only the reverend, who did an annual pilgrimage, would be certain of the way.

  Jacob tried to stay vigilant, but thoughts of Leah and his girls kept intruding. Where were they? Were they trying to find their way through the forest to the rendezvous just like Jacob, but without a rifle or even Crazy Kramer for protection? Because of his worrying, Jacob missed the first sounds of trouble.

  “You hear that?” Crazy Kramer asked.

  Jacob stopped, listening. Something was coming.

  “Hide,” Jacob said.

  Jacob and Crazy hid behind a clump of small trees, peering through leaves. Whatever was coming was coming fast, and coming right for them. Now the vibrations in the ground confirmed Jacob’s expectation. A predator was running down its prey. Jacob and Crazy hunkered down as the vibrations and noise signaled the nearest approach. Then bursting from the underbrush came four humans—humans Jacob had never seen before. In the lead was a young man, followed by a short bent man, then a fat woman, and finally a middle-aged man. All wore new-looking clothes, no beards, and were fat by Community standards. Exhausted, the shorter man stumbled, falling, tripping the woman, who fell on top of him, her mass swallowing him. The man in the rear paused, helping them to their feet. The young man in the front hesitated, and then ran back, helping drag the woman off the man underneath.

  “Funny,” Crazy Kramer said.

  Then a tyrannosaur hit the trees the strangers had run between, bending but not breaking them. Jacob knew this tyrannosaur and the pack it ran with. It was small by tyrannosaur standards, but particularly tenacious. The tyrannosaur screeched angrily, then backed up, looking for a way around. Now on their feet, the humans were moving again, but more slowly, the small man limping, helped along by the younger man. Exhausted, and too slow to outrun even a small tyrannosaur, they were doomed. Frustrated, the tyrannosaur bulldozed between the trees, getting back on their trail. Now only steps ahead, the strangers had a minute to live.

  Jacob stepped out of hiding, lifted the rifle, aimed carefully, and shot the tyrannosaur in the neck. Reflexively, the tyrannosaur jerked its head, snapping in Jacob’s direction, stopping his forward motion. Jacob waved one arm, shouting.

  “
All right,” Crazy said, stepping from his hiding place. “What’s the plan?”

  “Distract him,” Jacob said.

  “All right. Bring it on,” Crazy said, shaking his machete.

  Momentarily confused with prey in two directions, the tyrannosaur paused, screeching at both. Jacob saw blood streaming from its neck, but doubted it was a killing wound. Stopping a tyrannosaur with a single round from a .30-06 would be like stopping a dump truck with a BB gun. With the tyrannosaur distracted, the strangers crawled into hiding. Jacob continued to shout and wave, Crazy Kramer even louder, and with only one set of prey in sight, the tyrannosaur made its decision. With powerful long strides, the tyrannosaur was nearly on them before Jacob and Crazy could run. Dodging around trees, rocks, and anything that would slow the tyrannosaur, they ran pell-mell through the forest. Persistent, the tyrannosaur continued pursuit, even though the humans would be little more than a snack. Tiring, Jacob was ready to use his last bullet, hoping for a lucky killing shot, but then they broke into a clearing where a small herd of ankylosaurs grazed. Heads up, already alert, they stampeded when the humans and the tyrannosaur burst from the forest. Jacob and Crazy veered back into the forest, leaving the ankylosaurs to deal with the tyrannosaur. As the two men were turning back the way they had come, the sounds of the resulting fight slowly faded until the forest was silent again.

  They found the strangers near where they had left them, the old man sitting, leg up, one shoe off, rubbing a swollen ankle. The fat woman knelt next to him, loosening the ties on his shoe. The younger man and the middle-aged man stood, facing them, both watching Crazy warily.

  “He’s harmless,” Jacob said, jerking his head toward Crazy. “Who are you?”

  “Nick Paulson,” the middle-aged man said.

  “Never mind that,” the younger man said. “Who the hell are you, and how do we get out of this nightmare?”

  “Get out?” Jacob said. “There is no way out.”

  16

  John Roberts

  I lost a friend to the Time Quilt, and that’s probably why I work for the OSS. My friend Cubby was killed when President McIntyre ordered the nuclear strike on the Portland Time Quilt. McIntyre’s “hair of the dog” treatment did nothing more than cost me a friend.

  —John Roberts, OSS, Director of Field Operations, quoted in the Washington Times series, “Remember When ‘When’ Meant Something?”

  Present Time

  Hillsdale, Florida

  With Fanny Mills hanging on one arm, and her husband on his other side, John Roberts walked to the barn where Nick Paulson had supposedly disappeared. Marines still guarded the site, not knowing what else to do. John flashed his ID at everyone who gave him a questioning look. Dressed in jeans and a yellow polo shirt, John looked like a civilian who’d wandered in off the street. Instead, he was the director of Field Operations for the Office of Security Science.

  John was enjoying Fanny’s attention, glad that Rosa could not see him. John and Rosa had met on a mission for the OSS that nearly killed both of them. Being chased by a tyrannosaur, nearly killed in a nuclear explosion, and escaping from Mayan Indians with human sacrifice on their mind had a way of bringing people together. Rosa and John married two months after helping to stop terrorists bent on ripping the time line to shreds. With Rosa’s first pregnancy, she requested a reassignment from Area 51, where she piloted black bag aircraft like the Aurora spaceplane. At the end of her enlistment period, Rosa resigned, and now flew commercial, with Washington, D.C., as her home base. With two children at home, and parents who both traveled for a living, the Robertses managed to mesh schedules well enough so one parent was home most of the time. While the arrangement did interfere with their love life, it made being together all the sweeter. So, feeling a bit of guilt at Fanny’s touch, John gently disengaged as they approached the marines guarding the barn.

  “This is as far as you can go,” John said, pulling free.

  “It’s our barn,” Fanny said, pouting a little.

  “I know,” John said. “But until we find out what happened to our missing people, we need to make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else.”

  “We understand,” Marty said, putting his arm around his wife. “Fanny just isn’t used to having this many people around without a party erupting.”

  “When we get this settled, I’ll bring my wife over to meet you,” John said.

  “Just tell me how you like your steaks,” Marty said, smiling.

  “Wine or margaritas?” Fanny asked.

  “Margaritas,” Marty said. “My wife’s name is Rosa.”

  “Excellent,” Marty said.

  Marty and Fanny seemed so genuine that John made a mental note to talk to Rosa about meeting the Millses. She would like them.

  “This way, sir,” Lieutenant Weller said.

  Weller walked John to a dilapidated barn, bent, and entered through a hole in the wall. Inside, work lights had been strung, extension cords running everywhere. The lieutenant walked to two powerful work lights on stands, and turned them on. The lights illuminated a portion of the collapsed wall.

  “They crawled in there,” Lieutenant Weller said, squatting and pointing.

  John squatted too, seeing nothing but collapsed boards and a dark crevice. “There’s no place to go,” John said.

  “Yes, sir, but that’s where they went,” Lieutenant Weller said. “There is one strange thing. Notice the light?”

  John looked again, slowly realizing that work lights should penetrate farther than they did. Without speaking, Lieutenant Weller passed John a flashlight. John pointed it in the opening, but the dark crevice did not get any brighter.

  “Weird,” John said.

  “Yes, sir,” the lieutenant said.

  John got up, searching the barn until he found a loose board. Using it as a probe, he poked in the opening. The farther he pushed, the more resistance he felt, but he never hit anything solid.

  “Anything on the outside?” John asked.

  “Nothing,” the lieutenant said. “We even dug down six feet.”

  Other marines drifted closer, listening.

  “Ever seen anything like this?” the marine asked.

  “Not exactly,” John said evasively.

  John wasn’t sure what he was looking at, but he had once entered a pyramid in the Yucatán and popped out on the moon. After that, nothing would surprise him.

  “Have you got a rope?” John asked.

  “You gonna try crawling in?” Lieutenant Weller asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s been done. I tried it myself.”

  “I still have to try,” John said.

  A marine brought a coil of nylon rope and a climbing harness, helping John in and cinching it tight. Then a marine attached the rope with a carabiner to a ring on the back of the harness.

  “You’re good to go,” the marine said, slapping him on the shoulder.

  With two marines feeding the rope, John got down on all fours and crawled into the opening. Moving slowly, John paused every few inches, looking and listening. He heard nothing and saw nothing except a fuzzy darkness. A few more inches, and he felt resistance. Reaching out, John found he could barely extend his arm in front of him. It was like pushing his arm through Jell-O. Pushing hard now, John found he could not move even though he had not reached anything solid. Feeling a slight fluttering sensation in his stomach, John recognized it from his previous time-traveling experiences. Suddenly, he was jerked backwards and dragged out by his harness.

  “Sir, sir? Are you all right? Can you hear me?” Lieutenant Weller was shouting at John.

  “What?” John said stupidly. “Yes, of course I am all right. Why did you pull me out?”

  “You weren’t responding. We left you in as long as we dared.”

  “How long was I in there?”

  “Thirty minutes,” Lieutenant Weller said.

  “What time is it?” John asked.

  “Four twenty-five,” Lieutenant
Weller said.

  John looked at his watch. By his watch, it wasn’t even four yet.

  “What’s going on?” Lieutenant Weller asked.

  “I don’t know,” John said honestly.

  Looking at the faces of the marines, John knew they needed more from him than an “I don’t know.”

  “There’s a tunnel there, but for some reason, only some people can pass through it. Until I can figure out how to get through the tunnel, we can’t go after Dr. Paulson and the others.”

  Appreciating the honesty, the marines nodded with respect. Taking off the harness, John looked back at the opening. Four people made it through that tunnel. Why could they, but not John? Like John, Nick Paulson had been through time to the past and the future, but the other three people with Dr. Paulson had not, thus eliminating one possibility. However, all four of them had examined a potential Visitor. John decided it was time to look at the Visitors since they were the only common denominator. Then the ground began to shake.

  Everyone froze, ready to run if the earthquake threatened to bring the old barn down. The structure creaked, and dust and hay fell from the ceiling and the loft. Then the earthquake was over. Others relaxed, but John stood still, his mind racing. As one of the few people on the planet who had experienced the full ramifications of the Time Quilt, he suspected the earthquakes, the mysterious time-bending tunnel, and Dr. Paulson’s disappearance were connected. But how?

  Leaving the barn, John took out his cell phone and started to call Elizabeth Hawthorne, but then stopped. What would he tell her that she did not already know? Nick had crawled into a passage that was now gone, or impassable, and might never be passable again. Until it was, Nick could not get back, and John could not go after him. Eventually, John called Elizabeth, even though he had no understanding of what was going on or how to stop it.

  17

  Patrol

  The horse must rank high as one of man’s best friends. They provided transport for us for hundreds of years. They are also rather beautiful animals with a sense of humor. Fortunes have been made and lost on horses and some have become legends, such as that earthy little fighter Seabiscuit. In times of war, a man and horse together became the cavalry.