Lost World Of Patagonia

by Dane Hatchell

  The three took refuge behind one of the back legs. The leg reminded Logan of a massive concrete column used to support bridges. He and Meat took steady aim, and began firing as the targets presented themselves.

  The water slowed the raptors to give them a fighting chance. Logan thought he had hit at least two of the dinosaurs before his first magazine emptied. He reloaded and fired again.

  Meat methodically fired shots, not every shot finding its mark.

  Logan just now noticed the rifle’s scope was missing—broken off in the jump, no doubt. When his pistol clicked empty, three raptors remained, fast approaching.

  Meat pulled the trigger on his rifle, it fired, killing the predator—but the slide remained open. They were totally out of ammo now.

  The three passed fearful looks, no doubt coming face to face with the inevitable.

  And before the three attempted to make a futile run for safety, the large tail of the Brachiosaurus lifted into the air and smashed down on the approaching raptors—cracking the water with a thunderous sound and splashing it with a force that knocked all three of them over.

  “Get up! Let’s go.” Meat was first to his feet and pulled Natasha and Logan both up, leaving the useless rifle behind.

  The three ran north and started up the gentle incline by the bank of the river that led out of there. They were alive—saved by the ire of a giant. Logan’s mind swirled as they slowly ascended to the top. If he did make it out of Patagonia alive, no one would ever believe a tale as fantastic as this.

  When they reached the top, all three collapsed to the ground, with chests’ heaving.

  “We made it,” Natasha said softly. “We made it.”

  Logan closed his eyes and felt the grass underneath his palms. The air still had the slight sulphur odor, but a fresh earthiness dominated. He cast a weary glance about, thinking he should be watching for the next hidden danger. For some reason, he knew there wasn’t anything to fear. Maybe he was just too mentally and physically exhausted to care. Regardless, the Warthog couldn’t be far away. They needed to get to it as soon as possible. “Meat, call Ben. It’s time to go home.”

  *

  Matt answered the phone before it finished its first ring. “Hey!”

  “We made it. All of us. We’re ready to come home,” Meat said.

  “Fan-fucking-tastic,” Matt said. “Ben, you got their location on the GPS.”

  Ben gave him a thumb-up.

  “You stay there. We’ll get as close as we can,” Matt said.

  “Hold on,” Ben called. “If we try to get even with them, there’s about a two mile stretch for them to reach us. The woods are too thick, judging from the computer graph. If they hike south a half mile, we can get as close as a third of mile.”

  “You want to tell them?” Matt asked.

  “Yeah, hand me the phone.”

  Matt rose from the bench and brought the phone to Ben, who still manned the machine gun and remote camera.

  “Hey, I—”

  “I heard. We need to travel south a ways, and then go east and meet up,” Meat said.

  “Yep. I’m going to send you the GPS target where you turn and head east, and where the Warthog will stage. We’ll be waiting on you. It won’t take us any time to get there,” Ben said.

  *

  “We’re going to backtrack south a bit before heading east. That’s the closest the Warthog can make it to us. Y’all good to go?” Meat asked.

  Natasha and Logan were both up and ready. The three traveled alongside the river, watching the terrain shift, and returned to the 60-foot separation between it and the ground they walked on.

  No one said word. Their fast gait showed how eager they were to leave the place and join with Ben and Matt. Matt, it would be so good to see Matt again, Logan thought. Ben was a trooper and could take care of himself. Matt was a bit fragile, and needed all the support he could get from his friends.

  The river below flowed slowly, and just as soon as Logan thought he could see and hear the waterfall, Meat’s phone beeped.

  “This is it. This is where we turn east. We’ll be there in minutes.”

  Natasha’s sweet smile melted as something rumbled through the trees in front of them.

  Whatever it was, it was big.

  The three froze as a T-rex emerged from the woods.

  “Oh, hell no,” Meat said. “I don’t fucking believe it.”

  Logan noticed right from the start that this was the older Rex they had seen on the way up there. The aging one which had deformed ears and was probably deaf.

  It sniffed the air and let out a roar that felt like electricity flowing through Logan’s body.

  “Back away,” Meat said, and pointed.

  “What—” Natasha started.

  “Both of you back away. Now!” Meat shot them a glance hot enough to melt steel.

  Logan put his hands on Natasha’s shoulders and slowly backed up.

  “You want some of this?” Meat walked away from them, staying close to the edge of the cliff. He took off his red bandana and twirled it in the air in front of him. “Come get me, you big pussy. I’m going to fuck you up.”

  “Clint, no!” Natasha cried.

  The T-rex kept its beady, lifeless eyes on the mercenary, and after another fierce rage filled roar, stepped toward its kill.

  “That’s it, pussy. That’s it.” Meat let the bandana fall to the ground, and then he removed the two grenades from his belt. While holding them in either hand, he bit down on the pins, and pulled the grenades away. The pins fell from his mouth. “Come get my ass.”

  Logan watched the T-rex approach within striking distance. Meat’s plan was obvious, and if it didn’t work, the mercenary would never know. “Cover your ears,” he told Natasha.

  The old theropod leaned over to bite down on its prize.

  Meat dropped the grenades to the ground, right near the feet of the beast.

  Before the T-rex had the chance to sink its teeth into a soft human, the grenades exploded, the earth at the edge of the cliff gave way, and the heroic Samoan and beast tumbled off the side down to the river’s edge.

  “Clint! Clint,” Natasha screamed as she ran and looked over the ledge.

  Logan quickly came to her side and held her while she leaned over, her hands covered her face. “Oh, Clint. Clint!” She paused, and then said, “He died for us . . . He died for me.”

  Natasha turned, and Logan put his arms around her while she cried large tears onto his shoulder.

  “It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay,” Logan said.

  “Matt . . . I need Matt,” Natasha whispered through tears.

  Logan gazed into the distance, his eyes narrowed, and his face tightened. “Natasha . . . Natasha, look! Clint’s moving! He’s alive.”

  Natasha spun around and looked over the ledge. “Where . . .”

  One slight push was all it took to send Natasha over the edge of the cliff and to her certain death.

  *

  “Matt! Get out there. I see someone coming . . . it’s Logan!” Ben yelled.

  Matt sprang from his seat and almost tripped as he leaped for the door. He opened it and ran as fast as his feet would carry him.

  Logan sped around some brush and sprinted straight to him.

  Matt grabbed Logan by the arms. “Logan! I’m so glad you’re safe. Logan, where’s Natasha? Where’s Natasha?”

  Logan held his hand in the air as he momentarily caught his breath. “Attacked. We were attacked . . . right when we turned to head east. A T-rex—the old one we saw on the way up here. It must have followed us.”

  “What happened?” Matt’s body wilted, and he brought a hand to the side of his face.

  “It happened so fast. We . . . were near the edge of the cliff—the river some fifty or sixty feet below. The Rex was so blinded by rage it ran right at us. We tried to scatter. It barely missed me but slammed right into Meat and Natasha. They all went over the edge. There . . . there was nothi
ng I could do.” Logan lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Matt. I’m sorry.”

  The associate professor bit his lower lip and nodded. He closed one eye and winced in pain. Then, the tears began to flow.

  “I’m sorry, Matt,” Logan said softly. He moved closer and put his arms around the taller man.

  Ben stepped over by the front cabin’s door, leaning on one crutch.

  Logan lifted his left hand and waved him away. “It’s going to be okay, Matt.” Logan put his cheek against Matt’s. “I’m going to be with you—to help you get through this. I’ll take care of you. I don’t want you to hurt. I just want to make you happy . . . I’ve always just wanted to make you happy.”

  Epilogue

  The volcano poked through the earth like the Devil’s horn piercing flesh. An open mouth replaced the mountain’s peak as if thumped away from the flick of a massive finger. The vent hole of Hell burped black smoke and toxic gases into the glowing orange sky. Near the base, hot lava pooled in crevices and bubbled like water in a slow boiling pot.

  Eleven naked bodies stood frozen in time as if in worship to the towering monolith. None bore the scars of their recent deaths.

  And behind the eleven humans, a huge spiral of smoke churned like a slow moving pinwheel. Blues, greens, and reds flashed and burned in ethereal light in the vortex.

  The ground rumbled, and from one dark cloud above, a jagged bolt of lightning cracked the sky, to be swallowed by the volcano’s mouth.

  The unseen grip released the humans. At first, they acted as if in a daze. Then they became aware of themselves, and flexed extremities.

  Alex was the first to speak. “Where are we?”

  The others curiously looked about, and then focused on him.

  “The volcano. We’re north of where we were,” Coop said.

  “But how?” Natasha said. “Why?”

  “I don’t like this,” Suge said.

  “Me neither,” Caveman said.

  Ron and Don had their gazes glued on each other and remained silent.

  “Chief, I watched you die,” Alex said. “The Troodons and—”

  “Alex, you died too,” Natasha said.

  “Bats, Don, Suge . . . you were all killed at the cave site,” Coop said.

  “No,” Bats said, throwing his arms out. “No. This can’t be happening. Dead is dead.” He walked in a small circle—others quickly moved out of his path. “Dead is dead.” A pool of red-hot lava with a candle like flame on top set a few steps away. Bats walked over to the edge of it, and hollered, “Dead is dead!” The man stepped into the molten rock and disappeared from sight.

  No one cried out in surprise.

  “Wait a minute. I died,” Susan said, shifting her gaze to the ground. Then, she turned to Alex. “And you killed me.” In a fit of rage, she ran up to her husband and viciously pushed him backward.

  Alex stumbled and toppled into a lava pool just behind him.

  “Look, over there,” Chief said, and pointed.

  Bats emerged from vortex, his body as fit as a few moments before.

  “What’s happening?” Natasha asked.

  Alex appeared next and found a spot near the group—away from Susan.

  “Shiva destroys and Brahma creates,” Meat said.

  “The hell you say?” Caveman said.

  “This universe—our reality. It exists only through death and resurrection. The cells in our body are constantly born to replace those that die. Atoms and molecules constantly shift, altered by cosmic events and unseen laws of nature. Reality is unstable—illusory,” Meat said, having everyone’s attention.

  “That doesn’t explain this.” Natasha waved a hand around.

  Meat paused a moment. “The universe is one gigantic house. It contains billions of galaxies and is made up of even more stars. Can you imagine all the possible forms of life out there? It’s staggering. So, what if this house is made up of rooms? The Earth is a room with life unique anywhere in the universe.” Meat stopped and pointed at the spinning vortex. “That thing over there—it’s some kind of time pool. It’s acting like a closet in Earth’s room. It has created a microcosm of the universe. For whatever reason, the universe didn’t want to lose these prehistoric creatures to time. The universe wants to preserve it, maybe for God to experience sensation through them.”

  “You know,” Alex begin, “some of that makes sense. The dinosaurs here, from what I can tell, there aren’t enough numbers to sustain the herds for these millions of years. They should have dwindled out of existence long before man arrived.”

  “So the dinosaurs here live until they die, and then they are reborn?” Suge asked.

  “I assume so,” Meat said. “Just like we have been.”

  “But why us? Why, if the universe needs their precious ancient animals, do they need modern day humans?” Natasha asked.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe God wants to experience more sensation through human and dinosaur conflicts.”

  “Is this Hell?” Bats asked.

  “I suspect at times we’ll think it is,” Chief said.

  “God must be some sick motherfucker to play games like this,” Bats said.

  “I don’t look at it that way,” Meat said. “I’ve come to realize that God is all in all, and that He hides in His creation. He hides in us, too. We are that God. But because we are housed in a body of flesh, we are deluded in to believing we are separate from everything else. If we didn’t have that separation . . . that delusion . . . perhaps God would have no purpose. Perhaps God without a purpose would cease to exist.”

  A low roar slowly increased in volume, the earth vibrated, and the mountains began to sway.

  *

  “Fast, Ben faster!” Matt cried. “That last boulder almost hit us.”

  “I’ve got it floored now. We’re just about clear. Just hold on for a few more minutes,” Ben said, his hands tightly clutched around the Warthog’s steering wheel.

  “We’re going the make it, Matt. I can feel it,” Logan said.

  “Son-of-a-bitch!” Matt said, and watched from a rear camera. “It looks like the pass is completely buried. There’s no way we can ever go back there.”

  “Who would want to? Fuck that place,” Ben said.

  “The Warthog’s not shaking anymore. The earthquake has stopped. We’re going to make it. I told you so,” Logan said.

  Ben slowed the Warthog and brought it to a stop. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. The camp’s only a couple of miles away. I hope we can leave by tonight.”

  Matt looked over at Logan and closed an eye. “Why were you so confident that we were going to make it?”

  “I’m not sure. Something about Patagonia stirred an awaking in me. It’s a feeling I can’t really put into words,” Logan said.

  Ben’s jaw dropped, and he shook a finger. “I kinda know what you’re talking about. There was something strange about that place—besides the dinosaurs. A feeling—like you said. I didn’t know who, if any of us, was going to die on this trip. I just thought I was going to make it. And if I made it, then whoever was with me would make it too.”

  Logan slightly lifted his head and peered down his nose. “My feeling was stronger. I knew we were going to live. It was meant to be.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Matt said.

  “No. It was meant to be. And now, and forever, it will always end that way.” Logan’s face relaxed, and he smiled.

  The End

  Read on for a free sample of The Valley

  PROLOGUE

  The Valley

  Argentina

  The Year 2079

  With the exception of a few renegade clouds floating above the canopy of trees, the sky was a perfect blue. The air was muggy with a syrupy thickness, the humidity steaming. In tropical brush so dense and with leaves as large as elephant ears, Jon Jacoby hacked his way through the thickets with the blade of a machete, swinging errantly knowing that the distance between two points was a straight line. And to
get to the Gates of Freedom, Jon had to cut a swath through the jungle’s core if he was to survive.

  Emily Anderson was behind him holding a Glock with a bullet in the chamber and three in the magazine. Their beige jumpsuits, declared to be the property of the Argentina Department of Corrections, with ADOC stenciled on the backs, were torn and badly soiled. Rorschach blots of sweat circled beneath their armpits and backs. The bangs of their hair stuck wetly to their brow. Razor-thin cuts and slashes marred their faces and their hands, the blood having crusted and caked into scabs. And their jumpsuits were beginning to hang on them like drapery, the two having lost so much weight.

  It had taken them five days to cross the valley, which was surrounded by 80-foot sheer walls, straight up with no foot- or handholds, and no promise or means of escape.

  When they were less than 100 yards away from the Gates of Freedom, Jon and Emily hunkered low in the jungle brush, listening.

  The shape of the Gates was an arch, and the top bullet-shaped, with chiseled lettering above the entranceway: YOUR FREEDOM IS BUT A FEW STEPS AWAY.

  “The gate’s closed,” Emily whispered. When she started to rise and head forward, Jon lashed out and grabbed her by the forearm, stopping her. “What?” she asked.

  He set a forefinger against his lips, shushing her. Listen!

  In the brush to their left something moved, causing the elephant-sized leaves to shake and betray its position.

  They were not alone.

  The thicket and brambles to their right began to sound off, a rustling.

  Then Emily’s eyes started to the size of communion wafers and her face began to crack, her eyes welling with tears. They were so close, she thought. So . . . close.

  And now they were being flanked.

  As she raised her firearm, Jon gripped the machete until he was white-knuckled.

  “We have to make a run for it,” he told her. “A hundred yards.”

  “We’ll never make it.”

  “We can’t just sit here, Em, and let them close in.”

  And then a tear slipped from the corner of her eye and tracked slowly along her cheek, then to her chin where it dangled precariously for a moment before dropping. “We were so close, Jon” she whispered. “All this way . . . Forty miles. The last two.”