Dick by Law

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  So Grip's escape route was gone. He was surrounded by three of the killer dinosaurs who'd slaughtered his family. This time, they had the element of surprise on their side.

  And Grip knew they could smell the scent of their dead kin, the ones he'd murdered, on his whiskers.

  *****

  Chapter 40

  130 Million Years Later

  Horseshoe Bay, Bermuda

  The absence of bloodthirsty maniacs was making Simon nervous. As he and Horne ran along the beach, there was no sign of Mobai or Poppa Free or the soldiers.

  There weren't many signs of life on this stretch of sand, in fact, at least nearby. Rock walls rose along the landside fringe of the shoreline, growing higher and steeper. A cluster of well-lit buildings beckoned on a distant cliff top--a beachfront resort, most likely. The moon overhead was bright and lit the way to the waiting safe haven.

  It was too easy. It gave Simon a sick feeling in his stomach. And Horne didn't exactly make him feel any better.

  "Any minute now." Horne talked a lot for a guy running for his life. "Sniper fire from the tree line. We'll never see it coming."

  Simon was panting for breath. "Can we please...just focus...on getting...where we're going?" Even as he said it, he couldn't help watching the dark tree line for muzzle flashes.

  "They'll run us down on quads," said Horne. "Or horses. Break cover up ahead and cut us off. Then round us up like steers."

  "Or maybe...we'll get help...and everything...will work out," said Simon.

  "Dogs!" said Horne. "That's what they'll get us with! Fuckin' attack dogs. They'll rip our guts out and use our bones for chew toys!"

  "Enough already!" Simon stopped cold. "Can't you stop being a dick for ten seconds?"

  Horne stopped and spun to face him. "This is all your fault, so fuck you, pussy."

  "I'm not the one who brought that maniac Mobai into the picture," said Simon. "Great publicity stunt, by the way! It's really working out for you!"

  "Mobai invited himself." A flicker of sheepishness crossed Horne's rough face. "It just sort of fell together. Mobai volunteered, and the producers and I thought it would kick ass in the ratings."

  "You're a typical dick," said Simon. "Some bloodthirsty dictator wants to be on your TV show, and all you can think about are the ratings."

  "Obviously, I didn't know he'd try to kill me."

  Suddenly, a sharp crack split the night, shattering the soft susurrus of the ocean breeze and surf. Instinctively, Simon and Horne both ducked and looked toward the blast, back down the beach in the direction from which they'd come.

  A shadowy figure stood below the tree line in the distance, right about where Simon and Horne had first set foot on the beach. As Simon watched, a bright light burst briefly to life in the figure's hands. Muzzle flash.

  So much for the absence of bloodthirsty maniacs.

  Simon ducked lower. "They found us!" He felt the shot sizzle past overhead. "We've got to run!"

  Horne sprang from a crouch and started charging away from the shooter...then stumbled to a stop. "We're fucked!" He pointed down the beach toward the cluster of lighted buildings they'd been heading for.

  Silhouetted in the glow of what had once seemed like a safe haven, Simon saw a second figure striding along the moonlit sand. Another flash lit the night, flaring from something that figure held...and it was followed by another loud crack.

  "They're coming from both directions!" said Horne.

  Simon looked around frantically, searching for an escape route, finding only the steep rock walls along the top edge of the beach. Then, just a little ways up ahead, he spotted an opening in the rock...a dark, oval maw like a tunnel in the wall.

  "This way!" Immediately, Simon ran full-tilt toward the opening. Gunshots blasted from both directions as his feet churned the soft sand.

  Horne ran after him. "A cave? What the fuck, Simon? Couldn't you find a better place for them to trap us?"

  "Maybe it's big enough for us to hide in," said Simon. "Or maybe there's another way out."

  "You do have a death wish, don't you?" said Horne. "Talk about fuckin' stupid."

  More gunshots thundered in the night. "Then don't come with me! I could use a decoy!"

  Horne didn't answer for a moment. "Fuck that," he said finally. "Close quarters could work to our advantage."

  Simon's only reply was to run faster toward the cave.

  *****

  Chapter 41

  130 Million Years Ago

  China

  Grip twirled in a circle as he tried to decide what to do next. As he spun, he saw the three killer dinosaurs who surrounded him: the copper-skinned female, the red-splotched gray male, and the third arrival, an ivory male with sky blue patches.

  All three were moving toward him at once, drooling and chirping and slashing their foreclaws in the misty early morning air. It wouldn't be long until they descended upon him and finished the job they'd started days ago, wiping out his family, down to the last remnant.

  Grip had two choices--fight or flee--and neither was encouraging. If he fought the killers directly, he didn't think he'd last long. If he fled, he was sure they'd run him down fast.

  But there might be a third option, he realized. One the dinosaurs might not expect.

  Play dead. It was one of his specialties.

  Grip spun around again, then flung himself down on his back. Yelping, he thrashed and flopped in the mud along the brook, stubby legs scrabbling at the sky.

  Grip convulsed one final time. His last howl of pain was cut short, and his body stiffened...then relaxed. He twitched once, then twice, and lay still.

  The dinosaurs closed in immediately, sniffing for signs of life. Grip's eyes were closed, but he felt their warm breath, sensed their scaly snouts hovering overhead.

  One of the male dinosaurs dropped his head lower than the others. It was the red-splotched gray-skin; Grip recognized his scent.

  When the male nudged him with his nose, Grip had a hard time staying still in the mud. He found it even harder not to react when the dinosaur licked him with his rough tongue.

  But Grip didn't dare move, not when the dinosaurs were doing exactly what he wanted them to.

  The male chirped to the other two in a language Grip recognized but didn't understand. The female whistled in reply and dropped lower for a closer look of her own.

  Grip smelled her telltale scent as her snout drifted toward him. She nudged him, and then the male nudged him, too. They chirped at each other and nudged him some more.

  Grip waited. At any moment, he knew, one of them would bite off a piece of him. They would devour him so fast, he wouldn't know what had hit him.

  Unless, of course, Grip didn't let them.

  His heart pounded as the male and female nudged and licked him, their chirps and whistles growing louder. The red tips of his ears fluttered in the breeze of their breath. Fresh saliva ran from their lips to soak Grip's fur, and he knew it was time.

  Suddenly, Grip sprang to life. In a blur of motion, he scrambled up the snout of the female and gashed her eyes with his claws. As she reared back, screeching, Grip leaped from her head, landing on the head of the male before he could rear back, too.

  Grip sank his teeth and claws into the flesh of the male's snout, anchoring himself between the dinosaur's eyes. It was enough to drive the male crazy with rage and confusion. He lurched in circles, swatting at his face, screaming as he struggled to knock Grip free.

  But Grip never let go of anything until he was ready. The more wildly the red-splotched male gyrated, the more Grip tightened his hold. Even when the male started beating his face against a tree, Grip refused to budge. He took a pounding, but it was better than sudden death in a dinosaur's jaws, which was the fate that awaited him if he let go.

  After the third bashing against the tree, Grip finally put a stop to it. He let go with one of his forelegs, but only for a heartbeat, only long enough to gouge his claws into the dinosaur's eye.

/>   So much for slamming into the tree. With a deafening roar, the male staggered back, groping his punctured eye...and then he tripped and went down in the brook.

  Grip quickly took advantage of the dinosaur's vulnerable position, releasing his hold and lunging for the throat. Gouts of ruby-red blood coursed from the killer's neck as Grip sliced it open with his claws and teeth.

  When Grip was done with his second victim, he leaped off the male and landed on the muddy bank. The female lay nearby, squawking and twitching, and he ran to her. Approaching from behind, he hopped up onto her throat and ripped it open, releasing a gusher of blood.

  Two of the dinosaurs were down and dying, but the fight wasn't over yet. Grip looked up from his work to see the other male, the ivory one with the sky-blue patches, storming toward him, eyes burning with rage. The ground shook underfoot as tons of howling monster stomped across the clearing.

  Grip knew he was about to die, but he felt no fear. Jumping up on his hind legs, he threw his head back and howled at the killer. He howled the same song he would've howled if the foe he was facing was half his size or ten times bigger. It didn't matter.

  Grip the dog-thing was a giant-killer, starving for revenge, and here was one more giant for him to kill.

  *****

  Chapter 42

  130 Million Years Later

  Horseshoe Bay, Bermuda

  Gunshots chipped the mouth of the cave as Simon and Horne sprinted inside, dodging jagged rocks that thrust from above and below like teeth. The smell of decaying sea life washed over them, reeking of rotten fish, crabs, and seaweed. It was as if they were running through giant jaws into the belly of a great beast, about to become its latest foul-smelling meal.

  And soon, their pursuers would run right in after them.

  Even as Simon led the way inside, splashing through puddles on the lumpy sandy floor, he realized just how bad a hiding place it was. The cave was deep and dark, but if their pursuers had flashlights, they'd find Simon and Horne easily. The cave wasn't so much a shelter as a death trap...unless, somehow, Simon and Horne could turn the tables.

  "Listen!" Simon stopped and grabbed Horne's shoulder. "We need to ambush them!"

  "Fuck that!" Horne's kinky hair glistened with sweat in the dim moonlight trailing in from the cave mouth. His face was more puffy and flushed than ever after the full-tilt run for his life.

  "You take one side...I'll take the other." Simon heaved for breath as he pointed at the cave mouth. "We'll surprise 'em...when they come in. Hit 'em...with rocks."

  "Don't'cha think they'll be expecting that?" Horne shook his shoulder free. "I have a better idea."

  Simon watched sparks fly from the toothy rocks near the entrance to the cave as more gunshots zinged the opening. "What? What is it?"

  "We'll play dead," said Horne. "When they get closer, we attack."

  Simon was getting nervous. Time was running out. "What if they decide to make sure we're dead from a distance? Shoot first, check pulses later?"

  "Trust me!" said Horne. "This'll work! I'm the dick, I should know."

  A gunshot punched through the cave mouth and rocketed past Simon. "Forget it!" Being under fire was pushing him to the verge of total panic. "The ambush idea's better!"

  Horne grinned. "There's always a third option. Ever hear of a Dick Wishfor?"

  "No." Simon was distracted watching the cave mouth; the gunmen could plunge through at any moment. "What's a Dick Wishfor?"

  "A sucker like you to throw to the wolves!" said Horne.

  Before Simon could respond or react, Horne reared back and kicked him in the chest, sending him sprawling on the wet sand of the cave floor.

  *****

  Chapter 43

  130 Million Years Ago

  China

  Ragged, bruised, and blood-drenched, Grip barreled through the sun-dappled forest as fast as he could. He'd just killed two of the killer dinosaurs who'd surrounded him at the brook, but the third was in close pursuit, crushing brush and flushing out screeching creatures with each mighty footfall.

  Just moments ago, Grip had stood up to the dinosaur with howling bravado. Now, it looked like the dinosaur was about to end Grip's campaign of revenge for once and for all.

  But that wasn't necessarily true. The truth was, Grip had a plan to defeat his enemy, and they had nearly reached the end of it.

  The killer dinosaur didn't know that, of course. As Grip hurtled onward through the forest, paws churning up the litter of crunchy twigs and leaves, the ivory male dinosaur with the sky blue patches followed without hesitation. Maybe, if the dino had been less enraged, less obsessed with the fur-covered dog-thing in front of his nose, he would have noticed the scent Grip was chasing. Maybe he would have realized the danger he was in, the role reversal that was about to switch him from hunter to prey.

  But the ivory male didn't notice a thing. The only scent he could focus on was that of the blood of his dead dinosaur pack-mates crusted in Grip's fur.

  So the chase continued through the rising morning heat, winding around trees and boulders, up and down hills, through streams and puddles and pools. Chattering creatures shrieked and leaped and flew out of the way, racing past as the dinosaur's bulk trampled the brush around them.

  What the ivory male didn't notice was that it wasn't him the creatures were running away from. They were running from something else altogether, something up ahead, out of sight...something with a scent strong enough to drive away almost everything in its path.

  But not Grip. He kept heading straight for it, following the scent like a bright beam of light, like an arrow.

  If only he could reach it in time. Behind him, the ivory male dinosaur suddenly surged forward, snapping at his tail, biting off the tip of it. Grip yipped and ran harder, his little legs churning litter and dark soil in a furry blur.

  His goal was just up ahead, through the break in the trees. The scent flared like the sun there, blazing with power, outshining all other scents around it.

  Grip was in the final stretch...and then the dinosaur found his second wind and sprinted out around him. The ivory male skidded to a stop and spun to face Grip, claws and fangs flashing.

  Grip hurtled toward him without slowing, then zigzagged as the dinosaur slashed at him. One of the claws connected, slicing through the meat of Grip's back...but Grip kept going, bolting right between the dino's legs.

  Then, as the ivory male shrieked with frustrated rage, Grip made it through the break in the trees. A sun-drenched clearing opened up around him, full of high grass waving in the warm wind, buzzing with insects. Thick with the scent of the one he'd brought the killer to meet.

  Grip plowed forward through the grass, heading for a huge mound at the center of the clearing. The ivory male charged after him, howling.

  Grip raced closer and closer to the mound...then peeled away at the last second, just before reaching it. The ivory male, with his greater bulk, couldn't make the same sharp turn. He ended up stumbling and slamming into the mound, crashing against it with shuddering force.

  Grip knew what was coming next. He had done his job well. Dashing to the far side of the clearing, he jumped up on a fallen tree to watch his handiwork. He was so excited, he wagged his tail and barked in anticipation.

  Meanwhile, in the middle of the clearing, there was a moment of peaceful stillness. A moment when the ivory male must have thought losing his prey was the worst that had happened.

  But only a moment. The dinosaur pushed away from the big brown mound and straightened, sniffing the breeze. He trotted back and forth, looking around...and then he clambered up onto the mound for a better look at his surroundings.

  He stood there, gazing down at everything from atop the mound, turning in a circle...and he stopped when he caught sight of Grip.

  Grip hopped up and down on his fallen tree, yapping. The ivory male hissed and squawked, baring his teeth and slashing his claws with murderous promise. He intended to leap down from his perch, race across the c
learing through the tall grass, and kill the dog-thing, that much was clear.

  But he didn't get the chance.

  Suddenly, the mound lurched, throwing the ivory male down on his belly on top of it. The mound lurched again, more violently than before, heaving one way and then the other.

  As the mound continued shifting, the ivory male dug in his claws and hung on. At first, it looked like he might be all right.

  Then, the mound started to rise. The whole thing lifted up from the ground and kept going. Dirt showered from its surface as it rose higher, ever higher.

  It was unfolding. It had been curled up in the grass, and now it straightened...and the ivory male's position became clear. No longer was he standing atop a mound.

  Now, he was hanging on to an upright, nearly vertical surface. His legs dangled in midair, and his foreclaws barely clung to their purchase.

  He didn't get the full picture until a moment later, when the thing he was holding on to shook him free. The ivory male plunged to the ground, landing hard on his back with a loud crack...and then his former perch turned. Towering above him, high as the treetops, it slowly turned.

  And looked down at him.

  It was a dinosaur, too, but that was about all it had in common with him. It was gigantic and fearsome, more like the king of the dinosaurs. It communicated with him in only one way...and in so doing, revealed one more thing they had in common.

  Its message was simple. While the ivory dino with the sky blue patches, killer of Grip's family, stared helplessly from below, the behemoth bent down. Lowered its steaming snout to his level.

  And then its jaws opened, and it scooped him up before he could run away. It chewed and swallowed him.