by Stuart Keane
Murray followed the instructions. The right guard stepped forward and patted every inch of his body. Arms, legs, crotch, back, front. He unbuttoned Murray’s jacket, tore his shirt from his waistband, and patted his bare chest with cold, firm hands. The left guard lifted a metal wand up and scanned Murray’s entire body. Nothing beeped. The right guard finished by cupping Murray’s ears and searching the back of them. On instruction, Murray opened his mouth and lifted his tongue. They searched behind his lips with gloved, probing fingers. Done, they both retreated.
Richard smiled. “Excellent. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but … well, I trust no one. Call it a quirk.”
Murray nodded and straightened his clothing. A hint of personal violation began to seep into his thick, sweaty skin. He returned his shirt to its rightful, tucked place, ignored the feeling, and sighed. “I like thorough. I doubt we’d be working together otherwise.”
“A wise man.” Richard held out the waiver. “Now, you sign. Then, I’ll open up Pandora’s Box to you.”
Murray slipped the pen from the side of the clipboard and signed the document. He’d come too far to decide otherwise. Besides, Bill and Ben might have had something to say about him wasting their time. “Let’s do this,” he uttered.
“Gentlemen?”
Bill and Ben nodded. They gripped the safe handle and twisted it. The wheel made no sound as it spun and finally clunked home, unlocked. The two men opened the door and ushered Richard through. Murray followed, and observed that the rounded steel door was at least four feet thick. He chuckled. “That’s some stern security.”
“You’ll see why. Patience, my man.”
The duo emerged on a circular steel balcony, one as wide as the hallway behind them. The pristine floor and barrier glistened from lack of use. A chill ran up Murray’s spine as he recalled Richard’s earlier statement. Only three people in the entire world know of this. Much like the impressive glass back in the waiting room, each surface formed into a curve; the waist-high barrier merged seamlessly into the platform beneath, and contained no sharp edges. Richard walked to the periphery, steadied his feet, and peered over. A gentle sigh escaped his lips. Murray swallowed, and ambled up behind him.
The sight absolutely took his breath away.
A large greenhouse sat below them. Luscious green leaves and arching trees of all sizes stretched as far as the eye could see. Brilliant colours and vibrant glows punctuated the beauty, as flowers and a range of plants strove to have their moment in the gloriousness of the tropical scenery. A proud smile stretched across Richard’s face. Murray, on the other hand, wondered what he was looking at.
“That’s some home for the average turkey. Not average, sorry, but you know what I mean. A simple hutch and seeds are normally … I’ll shut up now.”
Richard chuckled. “My dear man. Give it time.” He pointed upwards. “My prize turkeys live on the surface, and revel in nothing but nature’s brilliance. None are force fed, but all provide the best meat on the planet because I treat them with absolute care. You know this, your current product is a beautiful result of my techniques. This…” He gestured to the vast jungle beneath them with an outstretched hand. “This is something completely different. Watch.”
Murray turned to the edge and peered over. His eyes relaxed and focused on the foliage below. Became attuned to the gentle sway and movement of the beautiful plants. The shapes and colours came to the forefront as the humidity of the room started to seep into his clothes, and that’s when he realised.
The movement beneath the plants. Something was in there.
Alive. Mysterious.
And the plants … he didn’t recognise them. He wasn’t a nature expert by any means, but they looked … alien, almost unreal. Manufactured.
“Those plants aren’t real. You add them to the meat, feed them to the turk –”
A Tyrannosaurus Rex reared its magnificent head above the trees. As the leaves and branches parted and slapped at the beast’s mottled brown frame, the mouth stretched open, revealing savage teeth that, in a slew of history books and fictional movies, made any dinosaur appear so fearsome. The head bowed a little, craning on its S-shaped neck, which levelled the eyes to greet the newcomers. The reptile-like slits palpitated and centred on Murray, watched his every movement.
Richard stood still, and continued to smile.
Murray pissed his pants and fell backwards, landing hard on his rump. Warm urine sprayed his inner thighs as he struggled towards the closed door behind him. He slapped at the metal, petrified.
Richard laughed. “Four for four. Everyone has done that. Five if you count me. The reaction is always the same on the first look. Interesting. It’s amazing how popular cultural idiosyncrasies determine the fear and acceptance of beings that existed way before we did.”
“Let me out, let me out! Fuck, fucccccccccccccck!”
“Calm down, Murray. Please. You’ll scare poor Sandra here.”
Murray slapped his back against the metal door, putting as much distance between the savage beast and himself as possible. Sandra simply watched him, curious. Richard raised a hand and signed something, balling his fist before flicking his fingers into the air. Sandra watched him, and retreated. The balcony shook as she took a huge step backwards.
“I … I scare her? Jesus, I just pissed myself. Fuck sake.”
“I’ve seen worse. One guy crapped his pants and screamed like a girl. We had to give the floor a new lick of paint after that. Otherwise, the animals feel as if their territory is encroached on. But never fear, I have another pair of those trousers back in my office. Same size, same colour. Like I said, I knew you were coming. Prepared as always.”
Murray stepped forward, limping, the damp trousers hugging his thin legs. “What is this?”
“A bloody budgie,” Richard spat, the sarcasm sharp. “What do you think she is?”
“This … this is impossible. No way, there’s no … there’s no way.”
“Ye of little faith. It’s very possible.”
“Jurassic Park is a novel. A great film, too. It’s total science fiction, though, it’s not possible. It’s … impossible!”
Richard chuckled. “You think I bioengineered Sandra?”
“Yes. How else could this be possible?”
“You tweak the narrative a little.”
“I’m not following…”
“There was no engineering, no manipulation. It wasn’t required. People have been spoon-fed lies for centuries, to conceal the horrific truth.”
Murray looked at his colleague, confusion reigning supreme.
“Dinosaurs were never extinct. They’ve been hiding on Earth this entire time.”
*****
Bethany lifted her phone and stared at it. Matthew heard it vibrating as he double-checked the wiring on his camera. Noticed the blue light of the screen flashing in her uninterested gaze. He sighed. “You gonna answer it?”
“It’s the studio.”
“So?”
“First, we get this ‘story’,” she said, air quoting with one hand. “What’s next?”
“It could be something decent.”
“It could be more kids. More kids and shit food. Or worse … a Help the Aged cupcake competition in Newcastle. Is it worth it?”
“Just do it.”
Bethany grimaced and tapped the screen, before placing the phone under her chin. “Yeah?”
A school bell clanged in the background. Matthew continued to work on his device, aware that Bethany was taking their next instructions. She made no sound as she listened. After a moment, Bethany slipped the phone back into her pocket, the move routine and well-versed. A smile stretched across her lips. Matthew felt a warm surge from within; it was a true rarity to see her happy.
“We got the Cup Final!” she exclaimed.
Matthew almost dropped his camera. “Fuck off. The Cup Final?”
“Yep. We’re going to Wembley. Well, in a few months. The gig is ours. We get t
o cover the entire weekend, from start to finish.”
A comfortable silence fell between them, a hush weighted with relief and promise, with achievement. Bethany removed a compact mirror from her pocket and began adjusting her makeup. Matthew watched her in silence, in awe. True dedication had finally paid off.
He chuckled. “Congratulations. It’s no more than you deserve, boss.”
She looked up. “Than we deserve. We’re a team, mister, you and me.”
They smiled in unison, a weight lifted. Things were looking up. Bethany stepped forward and hugged Matthew. It took him by surprise; he stood with both arms wide, unsure of how to react. She didn’t seem to notice and stepped away. “Thank you. For always sticking by me.”
“No problem. It was a pleasure, never a chore.” Matthew smiled and turned, fighting back a tear. Damn it!
“Liar,” she uttered. A laugh escaped her lips. “C’mon. We got some kids to pester.”
*****
“This is totally amazing.”
Murray nursed a cup of green tea between trembling hands. The fumes rose before him in small wisps of heat. He sniffed, enjoying the sweet scent. His mind was beginning to assess the history-breaking truth that now sat before him. He shook his head, stunned.
Richard nodded. “Yes, but I don’t think ‘amazing’ does it justice. It took me a week to come to terms with my find. Actually … I don’t think it’ll ever sink in. It was the discovery of a lifetime, in every sense.”
“How? Where … holy crap. Sorry, Richard … this is beyond comprehension.”
“Some of those details are classified, for my knowledge only. I’m sure you understand. Let’s just say that Earth has a habit of hiding its most beautiful creatures. You go to the darkest depths of the ocean to find true treasures. The same applies to the Earth itself.”
“You found them underground?”
“Yes. Deep beneath the surface, in subterranean caves. No fossils, no bones. Just the last few remaining dinosaurs, right here in Africa. I was as surprised as you because the species we discovered; well, people thought they only existed in Laramidia, an island continent on the Western Interior Seaway, a stretch of water that split the continent of North America in two during the Late Cretaceous period. I don’t even know the full story; how they survived, how they can still walk. Maybe they don’t need to eat, maybe they had a water source, maybe the heat from the Earth’s core kept them in hibernation, who knows. I’m not a scientist, I’m a businessman. And remember, you signed a secrecy waiver. You repeat that to no one.”
Murray chuckled. “For millions of years? This is extraordinary.”
Richard sipped his espresso. “They’ve never been extinct, but can you imagine what would happen if the general population knew of their existence? To the public knowledge, dinosaurs are the literal backbone of the Earth’s magnificent history. People thought they died out millions of years ago. They’d be exiled or revered in equal measure. People would demand their animal rights and that they be released, put into zoos for people to gawk at. In equal measure, they’d be condemned and classed as a severe threat to the human race based on our knowledge – knowledge that is becoming nothing more than pure fiction with every day that passes. They’d be confined to cages or sanctuaries not suitable for any living being, or exterminated outright. These beasts deserve better, they deserve to be respected.”
“I agree.” Murray sipped at his tea. He glanced around the small canteen, admired the wealth that oozed from every inch of furniture and structural design. Things were becoming a lot clearer. People would pay a king’s ransom to be involved in this extremely lucrative venture, to be part of a secretive club where the member count didn’t hit double figures, but, he had so many questions. Murray needed answers. “So, you’re what … farming them?”
“Yes. I have been for a decade. You know that turkeys are direct descendants of the dinosaurs, right? It made total business sense. The meat is similar, and more succulent, but we had to be patient. Now, have a healthy supply of stock. Well-kept stock, needless to say. You tasted the meat yourself. I saw your reaction.”
“It was sublime…”
“But this is a first. No one else has access to the meat. You’ll be the first, and only.”
Murray frowned. “You said I’m the fourth person who knows about them?”
“Yes. I won’t reveal precise details, but let’s just say a certain secret fizzy drink recipe, which is the knowledge of only two people, contains drops of dinosaur blood. A well-known fast food restaurant chain also uses it in their meat production. Both are highly addictive, and it’s down to our secret ingredient. We did tests. These companies have existed for decades, and their modern success in this economic climate can be attributed to my input. It’s usually brushed under the carpet; after all, they have a business to protect, but I don’t mind. Sometimes, being a silent partner is the best way to earn a giant profit. They knew my iron-clad terms.”
Murray nodded. “So, why me? Why will I be the first to procure the actual meat?”
“I have faith in your business acumen. You’ve taken a processed food product that speaks to children and adults of all ages, despite being known as unhealthy junk, and made it healthy without compromising the flavour or integrity of the product. In fact, you’ve made it a positive. Kids rave about it, adults are switching to it instead of your rivals’ processed equivalent. Hell, I know people who use it in their burgers instead of an actual patty. It takes skill or pure luck to do that. And you, Mr Murray, are no fluke.”
Murray nodded. “I always loved a turkey dinosaur.”
“And it shows. Seriously, you even silenced that celebrity chef. What’s his name, Jamie something or another? Didn’t he campaign against turkey dinos?”
“That was Turkey Twizzlers. Nothing to do with me. It does put a smile on my face, though, knowing that he can’t do a thing about it. He might as well be speaking to a brick wall. Murray’s Turkey Dinos are healthy, a hundred per cent meat. School dinners are becoming relevant again.”
“Yes. The meat is exceptional, one of a kind. A paying customer deserves the best. And from this point forward, your product will more than live up to the name.”
*****
“We’re here with the children of year five and their teacher, Mrs Hebdon. It’s time to get to the bottom of this phenomenon. So, tell us, what makes Murray’s Turkey Dinos so yummy?”
“I want to eat them all day.”
“They’re healthy. No vegetables needed!”
“I like any meat that’s shaped like an animal.”
“Nothing beats Turkey Dinos, chips and beans! I eat them with my kids all the time. You should try them; my children simply can’t get enough. Empty plates and quiet meal times on a daily basis – it’s a sight to behold.”
“Next question. Would you say they’re addictive?”
“Yes.”
“Oh God yes!”
“I’ll never stop eating them.”
“Mr Murray is a god amongst men!”
*****
Richard reached across the desk and retrieved the signed business contract. Murray slipped his pen back into his chest pocket. Richard stood up, paused, and shook his hand. “The meat will be packaged and transported to you directly. Twice a week. We can fly it over within a matter of hours. All meat will be fresh and in plentiful supply.”
“You have enough … dinosaurs, to meet my demands?”
“Trust me. We’ll never run short.”
*****
Matthew closed the lid on his protective camera case and slid it into the back of the van. He patted the top with open palms, sighed, and turned to Bethany. The female reporter plucked a cigarette from her lips and exhaled, sending a plume of blue smoke into the sky. He hesitated, unsure of his question.
“Did those kids seem … I dunno, weird to you?”
“All kids are weird, Matthew. Creepy lil’ fuckers.”
“No, I mean … weird. Odd. Slightly ob
sessed.”
Bethany said nothing and stared at her colleague, hand in the air. More nicotine coiled from between her lips as she explored her thoughts.
Mutual thoughts.
Bethany dipped her chin. “It wasn’t just me then?”
“Nope.”
Bethany turned and dropped her cigarette. “They’re just turkey dinosaurs, right? Processed shit, suitable for kids with no taste buds and disliked by adults everywhere.”
“Apparently not. You saw that teacher. She was the same. Glazed eyes, salivating at the mouth, almost as if they’re possessed, dedicated to it. We’re talking a processed turkey product here, not the rebirth of Jesus.”
Bethany chuckled. “Now you’re just imagining things.”
“Yeah … but still, it was freaky. They couldn’t stop talking about it.” Matthew thrust his hands into his pockets. “The teacher even referred to the creator as God. Who does that?”
“Someone who clearly doesn’t get much in the sack.”
“Please … she was a looker. She’s not sleeping alone. Plus, she has kids. Remember, quiet dinner times and empty plates?”
“So why was I told otherwise?”
Matthew recoiled. “Huh?”
“Mrs Hebdon. I was told she was separated with no children. Her answer almost knocked me off track. I didn’t query it, professional and all, but it still stood out.”
Matthew said nothing.
Bethany smirked. “She lied to us for an interview about a turkey product. Why?”
*****
The phone answered on the seventh ring. Murray stroked his chin, rustling the spate of stubble that was becoming all too commonplace. The stress of the week started to gnaw on his fractured conscience. It deepened as the voice greeted him on the other end. “Mr Murray, it’s good to hear from you.”