The Dinosaur Battle Of New Orleans

by Dane Hatchell

  T-Bob sped past, and shouted, “Go with your family! They need you!”

  “No!” Broderick yelled, but then saw there was no turning the man back.

  The Utahraptor welcomed T-Bob with sharp claws and an open mouth.

  Not having the stomach or time to watch, Broderick took his gift and ran after his family.

  Dionne and Keesha were in the middle of Chartres Street when he exited the gates of Jackson Park and passed the road construction fence.

  They arrived at the double doors of St. Louis Cathedral together.

  The doors opened, and they stepped inside.

  Chapter 16

  Andrew watched Rev. Scott massage his knee, and positioned himself between Doug and the NSM member, in case they tried to take a cheap shot at the protest leader.

  Rev. Scott wasn’t in any condition to defend himself, and the NSM member looked at him like a vulture waiting for a crippled animal to die.

  He welcomed the silence of the last several minutes, but he was out of ideas on how to escape. They would have to wait for the police or military to make a sweep before they could leave. He hoped emotions wouldn’t boil over and cause irreparable damage.

  “A kid and a woman are coming this way,” Tim said as he looked out the window.

  Rev. Scott rolled onto his side and tried to stand.

  “A man is behind them,” Tim said. “They’re heading straight for the cathedral.” He turned to Randy as if he were waiting for instructions.

  Andrew hurried to the door and opened it in time to receive the refugees.

  A young girl ran in, with a thirty-something-year-old woman and man following.

  “Keesha! Dionne!” Rev. Scott said in excited relief. He had somehow made it to his feet and balanced on his good leg.

  “Poppy!” Keesha cried and ran to Rev. Scott’s open arms.

  The protest leader hugged his granddaughter and turned glistening eyes at Dionne. “Are you okay, baby?”

  “We’re fine, Daddy,” she said between breaths. “We’re fine.”

  “He’s got a gun!” Doug said when the man entered; as if the weapon was a cobra about to strike.

  “Broderick! Don’t give up your gun!” Rev. Scott yelled.

  Broderick brought the gun to his side and put his left hand over his face. He slowly shook his head, and whispered, “T-Bob…”

  Dionne reached over and patted Broderick on the shoulder. “I know, honey. I know.” She hugged him.

  Rev. Scott moved Keesha behind him. “You came at the right time. These white men were looking for a place to hang me from.”

  Broderick turned his gaze over toward Rev. Scott. “Martin? What are you talking about?”

  “Look at them. Three Johnny Rebs and a goose-stepping socialist. They were discussing how better off the world would be if I weren’t around anymore.”

  “Rev. Scott, you’re exaggerating things,” Andrew said.

  “Who are you with?” Broderick asked.

  “Mommy!” Keesha said, looking out a window.

  “Not now, Keesha,” Dionne said.

  “My name is Andrew R. Jackson. I was at the protest today to help save the statue. And, I’m not a member of any group. I am a descendant of General Jackson, and I support the preservation of history.”

  Broderick brought the pistol up near his chest but didn’t point it at anyone.

  “Give me the gun, Broderick,” Rev. Scott demanded. “I’m the one in danger. They want the leader, not you.”

  “But Mommy, there’s a puppy outside,” Keesha said.

  “Not now, Keesha,” Dionne said, her voice heating up like the situation.

  “It’s my gun,” Broderick said. “And I’m keeping it.”

  Rev. Scott hopped and stumbled forward as he tried to snatch the gun from Broderick’s hand.

  “Daddy!” Dionne screamed as she was knocked off balance and fell to the floor.

  Doug rushed to the fray, pushing Andrew aside.

  “Douglas!” Randy snapped and went after him. “Get off of him, boy!”

  “Stop! All of you!” Andrew yelled.

  Keesha ran from her spot by the window. At first, Andrew thought she was trying to get out of the way as the people wrestled on the floor. But then the little girl opened the door and ran outside.

  That was the last thing Andrew expected.

  He headed for the door where the NSM member stepped up to block him. “Let her go.”

  Shoving the socialist aside, he bounded out the door and saw Keesha running toward a small dog. “Keesha, come back!”

  There was no turning her, though. Keesha only focused on the dog. She didn’t see the Utahraptor prowling the premises.

  The dinosaur hissed as it advanced to attack.

  Keesha picked up the dog and froze when she saw it.

  “Run, Keesha! Run!” Andrew yelled as he dashed up to the plastic fenced-off area on the street. Spotting several pieces of rebar for the road repair, he grabbed a length, placing his left hand on the bottom side and his right hand on the top side—holding the thick, rusty rod like a spear.

  Dionne call for Keesha, and the little girl broke from her enchantment and ran toward the cathedral.

  The Utahraptor was almost on top of them both.

  “Run, Keesha! Run!” Andrew screamed again as she passed and the dinosaur powered toward him.

  The Utahraptor’s mouth opened, showing all of its sharp teeth.

  A fan of history, Andrew remembered a tactic used by gladiators when they faced wild beasts in the Coliseum. Use the weight of the beast against itself.

  He skidded to a halt and planted the butt end of the rebar in a joint between brick pavers. Then, he lowered the front end to meet the Utahraptor chest level.

  The dinosaur hit the rebar and shrieked in surprise.

  Andrew struggled to hold the steel rod in place as it penetrated the dinosaur’s chest. His plan had worked! But the momentum of the beast that skewered it, also brought it closer.

  The Utahraptor swiped one of its deadly claws and slashed him across the neck.

  Andrew hit the ground as the world spun around in his head. His neck burned like fire, but then a cooling sensation followed. He put his hand on the wound and felt blood gushing from his jugular.

  Even if EMTs were on the spot, there would be no saving him.

  The Utahraptor had slumped on its side; the rebar had found its heart and killed it.

  He looked over at the cathedral.

  Broderick and Dionne stood at the door. He saw Keesha holding the dog between them.

  Andrew then turned his gaze toward the three spires of St. Louis Cathedral. He was about to die, and this was the last place he would have imagined. Dying here, though, would be a privilege. It certainly was better than leaving this life from inside a cold, sterile hospital room.

  Feeling lightheaded, soothing, angelic music grew in volume in the distance bringing him comfort. Andrew felt time’s pull of gravity slowly lose its grip.

  The weight of all his worldly burdens melted, freeing his spirit from the chains of its mortal coil.

  Andrew heard his name called from the heavens. He closed his eyes. The corners of his mouth widened, and he followed the voice home.

  Epilogue

  The New Orleans Times

  The Dinosaur Battle of New Orleans: One Year Later

  By Norbert Reaux

  This day marks one year since dinosaurs invaded the historic city of New Orleans. Though no authority has come forth with an explanation of what propelled the prehistoric creatures into modern times, the event is believed to have links to a secret NASA project once housed at Tulane University.

  The time-shift anomaly forced ordinary citizens and tourists to defend themselves as the French Quarter, and surrounding areas, plunged into chaos. In all, over a thousand people perished; including police, firemen, EMTs, and military personnel.

  A memorial service will be held at Jackson Square at noon today. The mayor Mit
ch Edwards, along with Tear Them to the Ground activist leader, Rev. Martin Scott, will be present to perform the service.

  Rev. Martin Scott will also have the honor to unveil the replacement of the famous equestrian statue commemorating General Andrew Jackson’s victory over the British during the War of 1812, destroyed by a giganotosaurus on that fateful day.

  The mayor will present General Pete Hilderbrand the Key to the City for his strategic success in reclaiming the city block by block, and herding the dinosaurs to the Chalmette Battlefield. Corralling the prehistoric beasts to an open area, light armor and attack helicopters ended the threat, saving millions of dollars in collateral damage.

  Bonnie the brontosaurus, one of the few surviving dinosaurs of the onslaught, will have her new home opened to the public at the Audubon Zoo next month. >see Battle, page 4A

  *

  Horns blew, and drums pounded in the jazz band. New Orleanians’ even celebrated the solemn events in the Big Easy. Cry at birth and laugh at death, was an old African proverb.

  At a jazz funeral, once the cortège left the cemetery, the wails of grief, intended to help the soul relieve its burdens, transformed into cries of joy, to assist the soul to dance their way into Heaven.

  Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler.

  Let the good times roll.

  Jackson Square bustled with energy as people vied for a spot near the center for the unveiling of the new statue.

  On the stage set to one side of the covered monument, Mayor Edwards read the last name of the final casualty of the Dinosaur Battle of New Orleans, and the Rev. Martin Scott rang a bell to end the ceremony.

  Edwards took a seat, and Rev. Scott stepped behind the podium.

  The Reverend closed his eyes and turned his face to the sky, with a smile and a nod, he said, “I have the great honor to pay homage to one of the worst tragedies in modern history. And though my heart is heavy with the pain of losing so many loved ones a year ago today, I am inspired by the diverse individuals who have joined in the spirit of unity that stand before me.”

  Spreading his hands to either side, he said, “I look out and see members of Tear Them to the Ground, the Sons of the Confederacy, the Alt-Left, and the Alt-Right. It warms my heart that they are not raising arms against each other. Even though their positions could not be further apart. This simply proves there is a greater good that lives inside every human. A part of God, if you will, unstained by the trials of life. Today is proof that all of mankind can have differences of opinion and yet still share one like mind.

  “The events of a year ago brought us here this day. But imagine leaving and going home and still share that like mind. Impossible, you say? Not long ago, I would have agreed with that.

  “But I learned a valuable lesson a year ago. A lesson taught to me by a stranger. By a man who I viewed as an enemy.

  “I came to realize the injustice perpetrated on me, and my race, created a cloud of bitterness that obscured my vision.

  “Andrew Reagan Jackson was at the protest with me where one of the first dinosaur attacks took place. I sustained an injury during the turmoil, and he helped me out of Jackson Park, where we sought refuge in St. Louis Cathedral. One act of kindness from a white man did nothing to erase the scars of prejudice I’ve suffered over the last sixty years.

  “But the scales fell from my eyes when Andrew, leaving the protection of the cathedral, gave his life to save my granddaughter, Keesha Brown.

  “Minutes after Andrew perished, I held my granddaughter in my arms and felt fear unlike any other time in my life. I had been so close to losing her…” Rev. Scott paused as his voice broke.

  He cleared his throat, and continued, “Keesha was alive. A great joy replaced the fear I had. My granddaughter was alive!” He raised his hands. “Hallelujah!”

  Muffled affirmations rose from the audience.

  Looking over the crowd, he said, “My granddaughter was alive, and she was saved…by a white man.”

  He let his last words hang in the air for a moment.

  “A white man. Andrew R. Jackson. Then, I thought, why would a white man give up his life for a black girl who he had no ties to?

  “I realized that it was because Andrew was a man first, and white second. This made me see too that I am a man first, and black, second.

  “As men and women, we must first see all of humanity as equals—bound by an unyielding commitment of respect. We can have our differences, but we must never cross a line that fosters hate.

  “Ladies and gentleman, I have not abandoned my cause. I realize the representatives from the various groups here still cling solidly to their beliefs.

  “There is a test that will show if you are on the right or wrong path. If love and compassion for the advancement of all of mankind is not the center-point of your message, well, consider this: maybe you are preaching the wrong message.

  “What I have learned, is that it is useless to force my will on others. It creates anger, dissent, and violence. I will instead continue my mission using love and enthusiasm—trying to win the hearts of my brothers and sisters—not create a void for us both to fall into.

  “For those who reject my cause, I will stand by their side with an open hand of friendship. I will shine with the brightness of my message and drench them in love until they see the greater good.

  “If I am by troubled waters and a person of hate falls into it, I will reach out and save them. Why, because as long as their heart still beats, I have time to win them over to my side.

  “In time, if we all work together, I believe we will see the horrible scars of division melt away. Little by little, all people throughout America will join and be of like mind.

  “My friends…and I do want everyone here today to always think of me as a friend, let us start the mission together, today.”

  Rev. Martin Scott nodded and pointed to a crane operator, who readied to lift the cover off the new statue.

  The canvas tent slowly rose, revealing the new sentinel of Jackson Square.

  Claps, cheers, and the full ensemble of a jazz band welcomed the commemoration of Andrew R. Jackson’s sacrifice in the Dinosaur Battle of New Orleans.

  The twenty thousand pound mass of metal depicted the heroic Jackson holding a length of rebar and stabbing an attacking Utahraptor in the chest. A bronze plate immortalized one of Andrew’s known quotes:

  History marks the path of triumphs and tragedies that instruct us how to unite and not divide.

  Rev. Martin Scott raised his hands to quiet the crowd. “I am pleased to say, Jackson Square to this day and forever, will always be known, as Jackson Square!”

  *

  The muddy waters of the Mississippi River flowed down to the delta leading into the Gulf of Mexico.

  Liopleurodons, elasmosaurs, plesiosaurs, giant squids, mosasaurs, and a host of other prehistoric dinosaurs and reptiles sought the vast oceans, looking for a new home and food to satisfy their insatiable appetites.

  Many had eggs to lay.

  All wanted to reign supreme in their new world.

  The End

  Read on for a free sample of Monsters In The Clouds: A Dinosaur Thriller

  Chapter One

  On the bright side, Grant Coleman had to acknowledge that at least today’s challenges wouldn’t kill him.

  The line of customers snaked through the bookstore aisles and all the way to the front door. Every one held a copy of Cavern of the Damned and patiently awaited their turn to get the author’s signature.

  Grant had been at it for thirty minutes so far. A cramp plagued his hand, and his plastered-on smile threatened to crack. A book tour seemed like a soaring adventure when the publisher floated the idea. A month in, it had transformed into a grueling slog. He couldn’t wait to get back to his college classroom next month.

  He reminded himself it was a walk in the park compared to the real-life hell he’d endured, the events that had inspired the book. The readers loved Cavern of the Damned’s fantasy of gia
nt scorpions and carnivorous bats. Grant doubted they would ever believe it had all had been reality.

  A twenty-something guy in a local college T-shirt handed Grant a book from across the table. “Dr. Coleman, this is such an honor. You inspired me.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah. The way you used real science as the basis for your novel? It really fired me up for my paleontology classes. All the creatures in the cave are completely unreal, but it’s like grounded enough in fact that somehow it was like totally believable.”

  “Even scientists need to stretch their imaginations now and then,” Grant said. “This book was just me stretching mine.”

  It took another hour for the line to wind down. The last customer approached as the publisher’s rep and Grant’s agent stepped away to talk sales numbers with the store manager. A woman Grant’s age in a short red dress and black boots handed him her book. Her blonde hair was gathered in a short ponytail. The dress caught his attention, but her green eyes held it. He straightened his glasses and squared his shoulders, as if that made him seem less paunchy.

  “You tell quite a story, Dr. Coleman,” she said.

  “It’s fun to spin a little fantasy,” he said. In his head it sounded flirtier than it actually did when he said it.

  “But easier to just relate actualities.” She opened her black leather purse and pulled out the tip of a giant cave scorpion’s claw. She set it in front of him.

  Grant froze. Memories of the awful days in the cave came rushing back. He’d barely escaped with his life when the cavern flooded. He didn’t think any physical proof had survived. “W-where did you…?”

  “We followed some rumors to a place in Montana. Found far more fact than fiction when we sifted through a creek bed there.”

  Grant had a bestseller under his belt. It would be a major studio blockbuster next summer. The fame had landed him a tenure-track teaching position. Any claims that he thought what he’d written had been real would brand him a crackpot, destroy all he’d built these last two years. Sweat rolled down his temple.