The Dream Hopper (Those Whom the Gods Wish to Destroy Book 2)

by Shawn Mackey

  “I was being serious.”

  “And that's why they're paying top dollar,” the leader said. After a pause, he nudged the tallest of the three and shouted: “Jenkins! Wake the hell up.”

  “Sorry, boss,” he mumbled, fiddling with the rifle on his lap. His sleepy eyes met mine as he said: “We should make him stand watch first. If he can kill one of the little guys, I'm sure he's capable.”

  “Shut it, Jenkins,” the leader snapped. He turned to me and said: “You’re in charge of the kid. Consider it a promotion.”

  “A promotion from what? Cooking our food or scrapping the dino shit from our heels?” Gary said with a chuckle.

  “What do you think you’ve been eating?” I said.

  “That’d explain the taste and the fingernail I found in my burger. It must have been Carl’s, after the Tyrannosaurus swallowed him whole. Remember that, kid?” Gary chuckled, then looked toward the leader and continued: “Why is he still with us, boss? I reckon the head of that king dino would cost a hell of a lot more than his ransom. He’d make perfect bait.”

  “We sell the kid and we kill the dinosaur. Not one or the other. Don’t get any ideas, Gary,” the leader said. “That’s enough chatter. Get some sleep.”

  “Do I get a weapon?” I asked. Both men simultaneously laughed.

  Jenkins shimmied up one of the trees with a pair of binoculars. I doubted he could see anything since the sky had gone pitch dark at this point, but it wasn't worth questioning. The only one who concerned me was the boy. Gary ensconced himself in a sleeping bag while the leader leaned against a tree with his wide-brimmed hat over his eyes.

  During the silence, our surroundings became a bit hazy. The two hunters sat utterly still for long periods. The gap between trees grew wider and wider with each blink. As twilight set in, we were suddenly in a grassy clearing, open to attack. As if on cue, the sound of rustling leaves followed by a whistle brought the two hunters back to life.

  “Stay back,” the leader said to me while signaling toward Gary. The two spread out, rifles drawn.

  Jenkins had abandoned his tree at some point, limping toward us while clutching his arm. He was babbling inanely, tears dripping down his red cheeks. One of the same dinosaurs from earlier glided from the shadows and was about to pounce on him. The leader's rifle fired, and the beast went flying backward with a growl.

  “It's here,” Jenkins shouted. I thought he was talking about the recently slain creature until I noticed the trees shaking.

  I mistook the dinosaur for a much larger version of the smaller ones, until I noticed its lumbering gait and colossal head. Its two tiny arms dangled uselessly and would have been comical if not for its gigantic jaws. Despite the creature’s size, it had no problem catching up to Jenkins and popping his head off in a single bite. Jenkins continued to run like a decapitated mannequin until the creature trampled over him and headed straight for Gary. He and his partner emptied round after round into the beast. The bullets either missed or had no effect.

  I grabbed Peter’s shoulder and shook him to his senses. We made a dash for the trees, back in the direction we had arrived. Though the leader fled, the last thing I saw was Gary throwing his empty rifle at the monstrosity headed straight for him.

  “We're going to be okay,” I said to the boy as we exited the clearing. “We'll find a place to hide and eventually—”

  My own gasp cut me off as the beast let out a booming roar. The echo rang so far that I hoped it scared off the smaller predators. The sound of something rustling through the trees made the both of us pause. Gary's mutilated body slammed into the dirt, as bloodless as the other corpses so far. Peter was in shock at this point, so I tossed him over my shoulder and continued to run.

  The ground shook and the trees swayed with each of the beast’s steps. It let out another roar, causing a frightened Peter to scream in my ear. He broke into sobs and wouldn’t stop mumbling about being scared.

  “Don’t be,” I said, probably as terrified as him. Collapsing in a corner and weeping seemed ideal compared to running from starved dinosaurs.

  I sprinted right past a cave, barely noticing it in my peripheral vision. It was a tiny little alcove, an opening so narrow I doubted we could fit inside. Nonetheless, it was worth a shot. The dinosaur barreled right through hanging branches. I took one last look at the terrifying colossus before letting the boy off my aching shoulders. He scampered into the tiny opening.

  We had a bit more room inside than I had anticipated, and the cave was dark and stank like mold. The dinosaur leaned downward and snapped its gaping maws, struggling to fit its head into the cave. The snout narrowly fit, leaving just enough room for us to dodge its jagged fangs. They dripped with slaver, clicking together each time it closed its mouth. As the snout inched closer and closer, it growled furiously, most likely out of pain since its scales dug into the jagged rocks. The noise, coupled with the fact that its razor-sharp teeth were a mere inch from scrapping against my belly, left me quaking in terror.

  “There's no more room!” the boy yelled. I was practically squishing him to death against the back of the cave.

  With a mixture of rage and desperation, I drove my fist into the beast's nose. It instantly retracted backward with a high-pitched squeal. My heart raced in my chest. Had my futile last effort actually worked? I poked my head outside for conformation.

  The dinosaur lay on its side, wagging its head back and forth, trying to reach its bloody nose with its two useless arms. The high-pitched whine grated my nerves. We gradually left the cave, standing triumphantly over our defeated foe.

  “That was easy,” I sighed. “Just goes to show the power of my right hook. No man is getting up after that. Why should a dinosaur be any different?”

  “Mommy,” it growled.

  “What the hell?”

  “He wants his mommy,” Peter said, rushing to its side.

  “Wait!” I shouted. The boy was too quick. He sat next to the sobbing dinosaur, petting its giant head, which must have been at least twice the boy's size.

  “Mommy,” the dinosaur cried with a sniffle. Such a disturbing noise could be considered only funny in retrospect. I was still too shaken up to muster a laugh, though.

  “It will be okay,” the boy cooed.

  The dinosaur's weeping was cut off by the crack of a rifle blast. The bullet struck the beast's skull, killing it instantly. I threw myself on top of the boy, shielding him from the next shot. I held him close, expecting a blow to the back. It never came.

  “Well,” a voice called out. I turned to find the last hunter, smoking rifle slung over his shoulder. He stood atop the cave, sneering down at us. “That made my life easier. You got a lot of guts, taking out a Tyrannosaurus on your own. If you had finished the job, maybe we could have split it fifty-fifty.”

  “Is he dead?” Peter bawled. I patted his head, unable to find the right words to say. This wasn't exactly an ideal ending.

  “He'll be stuffed in a museum,” the hunter said, still sneering. “You can visit him there all you'd like.”

  He broke out into obnoxious laughter. I eased my hold on the boy, fully intent on climbing up there and slugging the hunter in his smug face. A large shadow cast over him. The moment he ceased laughing and started to look upward, a massive pair of jaws clamped over his entire body. I heard a muffled scream inside the newly arrived dinosaur's mouth right before it swallowed him whole. This beast towered over the previous by an unfathomable amount. How it managed to sneak up on us was a mystery I had no intention of pondering.

  I hurled Peter over my shoulder again and ran. He was too upset over the death of his newly acquired friend to process the imminent danger. The threshold of my patience had long been stretched, and my energy was just as depleted. I was tempted to resort to drastic measures.

  Was it worth sacrificing myself for the boy's sake? He'd simply wake up in a wet bed at worst. What about me? Total annihilation was an actual possibility. It came down to nonexistence vers
us yellow bed sheets, stinking of urine and shame.

  “Get out of here, pal!” I shouted, letting Peter off my shoulders. I practically shoved him away. “Run! I can stop him.”

  “He’ll eat you! Don’t leave me alone. I don’t want to see any more dinosaurs. I just want to go home!”

  The dinosaur towered far above the trees. It stood silently, almost majestic in its sheer size. I kept remarkably calm given the circumstances. It lurched downward, gazing at me, face to face. Its black eyes were as large as my head. My stomach clenched as I noticed its pupils had an oily swirl. A tar-like substance dripped from its chin with each wheezing breath.

  I wound back my fist, then struck the monster with all of my might. I was better off punching a rock. It gloated with a mocking hiss, dropping bits of cold tar against my cheek. I was about to swing again in frustration when the ground quaked. It rumbled so strongly I could barely keep my footing. I turned to find Peter still standing behind me.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  “Stay close,” I said, inching toward him while eying our foe carefully. It finally opened its mouth, which reeked of death and decay, ready to clamp its jaws on us both.

  A stampede of dinosaurs collided into the beast, crashing its massive body into the trees. They cried out with an assortment of roars. At least a dozen of the beasts piled over its colossal body, gnashing their teeth and stabbing with horns and claws. Peter jumped up and down in excitement, cheering and tugging wildly at my shirt.

  “Get him! Kill him!” he shouted.

  The dinosaurs moved at such tremendous speed that their collective beating appeared to as a green whirlwind. The blur utterly engulfed its foe, and within seconds, dissipated like a fog, leaving the goliath battered into unconsciousness. As it breathed steadily, the black tar oozed from its mouth, forming a large puddle mixed with bloody dinosaur spittle. Before I could stomp my nemesis while he was down for the count, it took the form of a snake and quickly slithered under a broken tree.

  “Mommy!” the smaller tyrannosaurus roared in the distance. Back from the dead and fully restored, it lumbered toward its mother's side and licked her face.

  A scaly hand tugged my shoulder. I turned to find a velociraptor's toothy smile.

  “It was fun,” I said, feigning a smile and taking two steps back.

  “Time to leave Dinosaur Island,” a human voice said. It was Dan, approaching us with Jenkins, Gary, and the boss. Their amiable faces made me shudder. “Are you ready, Peter? You have school in the morning. Your mother will get mad if you wake up late.”

  “Goodbye,” the boy said, wrapping his arms around my waist.

  “Take my advice, pal,” I said, ruffling his hair. “Don’t watch scary movies before bedtime. Especially if they’re about dinosaurs.”

  The dinosaurs and their hunters broke into a cheer. As the surrounding jungle faded away, Peter tightened his embrace. I sighed with immense relief as the velociraptor's deranged grin dispersed along with the tyrannosaurus family and the hunters. I patted the boy on the head one last time before the rest dissolved into the familiar black void.

  Chapter 5:

  The Mighty Broxdor

  I found myself at the docks of a strange city. Before I could take in my surroundings, a salty breeze left me feeling vulnerable. I glanced down and saw my sunburned body donned only with a loincloth. Despite my strange attire, the others paid little attention. Many were dressed lavishly in a wide variety of clothes, the array of colors initially stealing my attention. Bright shades of blue, purple, orange, and red contrasted the dusty stone streets and brown walls separating the docks from the city’s interior. My dumbstruck staring was the subject of many conspicuous glances, leaving me no choice but to move to a more isolated area to regain my senses.

  A woman with a red shawl wrapped tightly around her head and shoulders paused in front of me, carrying a basket of exotic fruits and smiling sweetly. Her eyes rapidly scanned me from head to foot, her expression morphing into haughty disgust. A swarthy mustached man in a turban snatched a green fruit from the basket and smacked her bottom as he headed for one of the boats. She chased after him, nearly slipping in her heeled sandals and garnering the attention of the nearby crowd, giving me the opportunity to pass by without notice.

  To describe the city as strange would be an understatement. A few structures towered over the others, visible even over the walls. A statue of a lion poised on a massive ziggurat seemed to dwarf the city itself, as fierce in appearance as size. Its gaping jaws could have swallowed its base whole, no small feat considering the hundreds of stairs to the top. How does one go about their daily business in the shadow of that behemoth?

  I passed through the crowded gate under the wall and into the city streets. To my right was a tavern named The Underbelly. I swiftly hid in the alleyway between it and a craftsman’s shop. A smith beat his hammer against a seared piece of metal on an anvil, too focused on the task to notice me leering in the side entrance. I moved a bit farther to avoid a sideways glance, though it left me with one foot in the streets.

  In the packed bazaar, the only people dressed similarly to me had chains around their neck and limbs. The docks were closer to my destination, but I had left because of perceived hostility. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, I supposed. Better to return the way I came than move forward. Getting caught by those slavers would complicate things.

  I passed by the back of The Underbelly and tried to assimilate myself in the line moving toward the gate. A hand seized me by the wrist, followed by two others around my throat. Four men in bronze helms and scale armor drew their swords, subduing me with their combined grip. An old man in a black robe and tall hat lined with red rubies walked toward us, using his golden scepter as a cane. The gemmed symbol on his chest appeared to be coiled snake with a forked tongue. If not for the symbol and colors, I would have pegged him for as some sort of holy man, judging by his stoic countenance and reserved gait.

  “Heathen!” he shouted, raising his scepter. “Savage! Heathen! Barbarian!”

  One of the guards clamped chains around my wrists and ankles as the old man continued to spit slurs. He dragged me on my back toward the docks at an alarming speed, the crowd parting around the gate. All eyes were on me.

  “Barbarian!” the old man boomed over the chattering onlookers.

  “At least spare me a pair of pants,” I muttered, earning a kick to the ribs.

  The guard lifted me to my feet and pushed me toward one of the boats, with a bow shaped like a snakes head, forked-tongued and fanged. He dragged me across a plank boarding the deck before shoving me to the ground and planting another kick in my stomach.

  “Throw him with the other wretches,” he said. “Don’t let me see any of your rats running around the streets, else I’ll have your head.”

  “Yes, sir,” said a shirtless man with a bulbous gut. As the guard left the ship, he stared at me with fiery eyes and drew a whip from his side.

  As he drew the whip back, I rose to my knees but was unable to block the lash as it snapped across my bare thigh. Blood trickled from the sharp gash. I bit my tongue as he went in for another strike. The next slashed my other thigh. It took all of my willpower not to cry out in pain.

  “Back!” he yelled, winding his arm to whip me again. I crawled to the nearest seat.

  A dozen of us were lined up in six pairs, three to each side. The two slave masters paced up and down the rows, periodically whipping our backs at random. Before leaving the dock, I supposed our captors needed a way to pass idle time. We were supposed to row the ship, though it seemed more like torture than labor. I clamped down on the oar as another lash struck my shoulder. The journey was going to be long and unpleasant.

  “Take heart, brother,” said the man next to me. “For you are in the company of the mighty Broxdor. This ship won't make it beyond the bay.”

  He was even larger than the slave masters, and far more muscular. His brooding gray eyes were like two burning
coals focused intently on his prey. I sensed an immense strength in the man, and not only from his physique. I took comfort in knowing that this strange world had been crafted by him. How did I not notice him earlier? He curled his fingers into a fist, which I suspected was far stronger than the whips and steel our captors possessed.

  “I call the fat one,” I said. He nodded his head with a toothy grin.

  “An easy target! As for the other,” he said, still grinning, the smile revealing a trace of madness, “his wet brains will run through my fingers.”

  “Sure.”

  The second slave master almost matched Broxdor in size. He stood with his arms folded over his broad chest, stoically watching his partner whip the slaves with malicious glee. He wore a sheathed curved sword at his side. Broxdor’s gaze fixed on the weapon. I couldn’t begin to fathom the plan playing out in his thoughts at that moment.

  “Be ready to row, you filthy maggots,” the muscular slave master yelled. The fat man increased the speed of his whipping.

  Broxdor stood with a roar, tearing the chains strapped to his wrists with one tug. He broke the bindings around his ankles like they were wet paper and shattered mine with the same ease. The fat slave master let loose his whip, only to be caught by Broxdor mid swing. I drove my fist into his belly, causing him to fall to his knees. The next blow to the chin sent him sprawling on the deck.

  “Rise, my brothers!” Broxdor boomed, causing the others to simultaneously cheer.

  The guards at the docks seemed to catch on quickly and were already in the process of boarding the boat. The other slave master pounced at Broxdor, who dodged with the prowess of a wild animal. He drove his fist into his foe's temple, shattered his skull like a rotten fruit. I repeatedly kicked the fat one in the gut while Broxdor broke the chains of our allies. I doubt I possessed even a fraction of his strength.

  “Halt!” shouted one of the guards. They took a few steps on board before realizing they were vastly outnumbered. As they turned to flee, Broxdor seized one by the neck and broke it with a flick of his wrists. He picked up the fallen man's sword and roared triumphantly.