Time Crunch

by Shane Barker

Smith and Treeck might have been asleep, but they both sat up as Chase approached.

  “What’s wrong?” Smith asked, already sensing trouble.

  “We can’t find Bridger.”

  Smith didn’t waste time with stupid questions like, “Are you sure?” or, “What are you talking about?” He was instantly on his feet, weapon in hand, scanning the camp.

  “I rousted him less than ten minutes ago,” Treeck said.

  Zach: “And Chase got me up, too. But I couldn’t find him.”

  Smith strode straight to the clearing, he and Treeck shining flashlights back and forth. Smith didn’t try to be subtle.

  “Bridger!” he shouted. And then again, even louder: “Bridger!”

  Nothing.

  Zach was panting—wheezing—on the verge of a panic attack. Chase could tell his friend was in bad shape, but doing his best to hold it together: “Wha—what happened?”

  Smith didn’t answer; Treeck looked away.

  “I don’t get it,” Chase said. He waved a hand. “There was no warning. I mean we didn’t hear anything, didn’t smell anything—”

  “We don’t know what happened,” Treeck said. And to Smith: “No sign of his weapon—”

  “Okay, that cuts it. Everyone—”

  There was suddenly a bright light in the sky, brighter than a flash bang going off, bright enough that it stung Chase’s eyes. He winced and threw a hand up in front of his face, but the night was already dark and black again. Several teeth-jarring pops and crackles rippled the air, followed by a rumble like a growling dinosaur.

  “Res … cue!” Zach rasped. “It’s a rescue plane!”

  “How do you know?” Smith snapped.

  “Same thing happened when you guys showed up. Same bright light, booms and crackles … I didn’t know what it was, but after I ran into Chase I put two and two together.”

  “Listen!” Chase ordered. “I think I can hear it!”

  Sure enough, over the buzz and hum and croaks from the forest was another sound, a soft roar like a faraway waterfall.

  Treeck wheeled around and bolted for the rocks, returning seconds later with a headset. He began barking into the mic, holding the earpiece out so everyone could hear.

  “Alpha Team to aircraft; Alpha Team to aircraft. How copy?”

  Nothing.

  “Alpha Team to aircraft. How copy?”

  There was a pause, a crackle of static, a cherry voice.

  “Treeck! That your ugly mug down there?”

  “Roger that, and I can still kick your”—he glanced at Chase and Zach—“butt up and down the hill, Brandt.” Then: “You’re a couple days early, man.”

  “Well, you know me: didn’t want to miss out on the fun, but must’ve set our watches wrong: didn’t expect to show up in the middle of the night.” There was a crackle of static, then: “How many are you?”

  “Four.”

  The voice came back, and the tone was more solemn, more serious: “Package?”

  Treeck glanced at Zach, and Chase realized the speaker—Brandt—was asking if they’d found him. “Package intact and in hand.”

  “Roger that. Okay, my man … where do you want us?”

  “Original coordinates. But land in the middle and be advised the LZ is hot. Repeat, LZ is hot. Weapon up and stay close to the aircraft. Stay out of the trees, and no one goes anywhere alone. You got that?”

  Brandt clearly understood. “Roger that, Treeck. Guns in hand, eyes in play. No foolin’ around. You close?”

  “Couple hours out. But we’ll be coming in fast.”

  “Copy that. Need any help?”

  “Need all the help we can get. But you clowns stay put. Don’t wanna have to waste time saving your sorry”—another quick glance at the boys—“butts.”

  “Understood. Um, Smith with you?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Glad to hear it. Oh-kayyyy, we’re just coming up on the LZ. Land in the middle, guns locked and loaded, eyes out for bad guys. Give us a heads-up before you come running in.”

  “Roger that.” A quick look at Chase, then: “Glad you’re here, Brandt.”

  “Yup. See you soon. Stay safe.”

  Treeck double-clicked the mic, then handed the headset to Smith.

  “We gonna hump out in the dark?”

  “Don’t want to. But don’t think we have any choice.”

  “Agreed.”

  Smith looked at the boys: “Hiking out in the dark is going to be dicey.” He didn’t have to explain why. “You okay with that?”

  Once again, Chase felt immense gratitude that the man was asking.

  “Yeah,” Chase and Zach said together.

  Smith zeroed in on Zach. “You know the country best. If we make a beeline from here to the landing zone, what kinda country we gonna cross?”

  “Bad,” Zach said without hesitation. “Real bad. Allosaurs, zachiosaurs”—Smith didn’t interrupt to ask what they were—“ceratosaurs. A lot of big sauropods—apatosaurs, camarasaurs, like that—things that can squash you flat but aren’t going to bite your butt.”

  Smith nodded grimly.

  “Okay, then. Let’s pack up. Take only what we need. And”—he looked at Treeck, realizing the situation had become dire and making a decision—"give these boys weapons.”

  25 Night Hike

  THEY CROSSED THE stream and hiked into the trees. Smith led the way with Chase and Zach hot on his heels and Treeck bringing up the rear. The men had flashlights and headlamps, but Smith insisted on hiking without them.

  “Stars are good tonight,” he explained. “We use the lights, we’ll lose our night vision. We’ll actually be able to see better without them.”

  The trees blocked much of the starlight—Chase couldn’t see many of the smaller sticks and twigs that snapped and crackled like corn flakes beneath his boots—but it was still possible to pick out the trail.

  Chase and Zach were both carrying rifles now, secured by straps over their shoulders. Though Bridger had already shown them how they worked, Treeck made sure the guns were “safed”—unable to fire without flicking a safety switch—and made certain the boys knew how to shift them to “fire.”

  They also had five spare clips of ammunition in their pockets.

  Strangely, Chase didn’t feel any safer packing a weapon. In fact, it was just the opposite. Being allowed a rifle emphasized the danger of their situation. He knew there was a well-armed rescue team ahead, sure.

  But they had to cross a lot of dangerous country before reaching them. And it was still two, maybe three hours before the sun came up.

  Chase stayed close to Smith—far enough back that he wouldn’t step on the man’s boots—but close enough to keep the formation tight. He kept his head on a swivel, glancing back and forth, up and down, scrutinizing every suspicious shape and shadow in the trees.

  His ears were on high alert, too, listening for any change in the normal sounds of night, or any tell-tale crack or crunch in the brush. He sniffed the air constantly, remembering the sour scent many of the large predators carried.

  Even though his rifle was “safed,” he carried it with the muzzle pointed up and to the side, so that it never pointed at anyone else when he turned. Every few minutes he reached forward with his right thumb and touched the safety switch, making sure it was still “safed,” and making certain he knew exactly where to find it in case he needed it fast.

  Despite the danger, he was glad to be moving, glad to be doing something. He knew Zach was pretty messed up—first losing Captain King and then Bridger: the two men he’d actually become friends with—and Chase knew that hiking gave his friend something else to focus on.

  Probably the only thing keeping him sane …

  CRACK! CRA-CRACK! Brraaaaaaat! BOOM!

  The distant gunfire crackled in the warm air. Everyone froze in place, listening hard. Chase saw Smith place a hand on his radio, but the man didn’t transmit until he was certain the firing had stopped.

&nbs
p; “Brandt?”

  A pause, then a voice, much less cheerful than before: “Here, Captain.”

  “What’s your sitch?”

  “We’re okay. Just had to scare away some of the local wildlife.”

  “Injuries?”

  “No, we’re okay. Everyone’s close, got a good perimeter, not gonna let anything inside. You?”

  “So far so good. Still a ways out, but we’re moving.”

  “Got Treeck up front scarin’ away the gomers?”

  Treeck made a rude sound as Smith said, “No, got a freaky-lookin’ kid up here for that.”

  Hey! Chase thought.

  “Roger that. Watch your six.”

  Smith double-clicked his mic, then looked back. “Everybody okay?”

  There were nods as everyone whispered, “Yeah.”

  Smith singled out Chase and Zach. “Need to rest?”

  “No,” Zach said, as Chase shook his head. “We’re good.”

  “Okay. Let’s move out.”

  THEY CAME TO one of the wide, torn, mangled dinosaur highways, the smell of fresh dust, hot urine, and moldering dung heavy in the air. Smith and Treeck spent several minutes looking back and forth—

  “Heckuva good place for an ambush,” Treeck observed.

  —but nothing seemed to be moving.

  Smith finally stepped from the trees. “Let’s get across. Everyone stay sharp, keep your eyes peeled, stay together.”

  It was easier to see out in the open, though Chase felt uncomfortably vulnerable, knowing anything with eyes and teeth could see them.

  And out here there’s nowhere to hide ….

  HALFWAY ACROSS THE swath, Chase saw trees rustling on the other side, maybe fifty yards from where they were heading.

  Something’s watching us …

  Actually, he thought, there were probably dozens of animals watching their every step. But most of them were too small to be dangerous.

  It’s the others that I’m worried about …

  They reached the far side with no problems. Chase couldn’t help breathing a sigh of relief when they stepped back into the trees, but saw that Smith and Treeck remained vigilant.

  It feels more dangerous out in the open, he realized. But in the trees, a predator can stay hidden until you actually walk into its jaws.

  With a chill he remembered the dilophosaurs, and how they set up ambushes in the brush, several animals waiting concealed until they had you surrounded.

  And we’ve still got a long way to go …

  SMITH ABRUPTLY stopped, holding up a fist and freezing everyone in their tracks.

  Chase held as still as he could, gripping his rifle and peering hard into the trees. His heart was suddenly pounding in a way that was becoming far too familiar.

  Smith stood still as a rock, but Chase could sense the man reaching out with his senses, his eyes, ears, and nose all on high alert as he searched for danger. He stood that way for nearly a minute—maybe a little longer—then finally turned, catching Treeck’s eye.

  He tapped his ear, then gestured to the left.

  Thought I heard something …

  He made a few more gestures with his hand—Chase didn’t know what they meant—then made a quick “let’s go” motion and started off again.

  Chase peered hard to the left—where Smith thought he’d heard something—then followed. He stepped on a dry stick, the sharp snap cracking like a gunshot. Chase sucked in his breath—mentally kicking himself for his mistake—but Smith didn’t react.

  Probably shoot one of his own men for making noise like that, Chase thought, vowing to be more careful. If anyone got hurt because of his carelessness, he knew the guilt would kill him.

  Rather get eaten myself than know someone else got hurt because of me—

  “Chase …”

  Zach’s voice was quiet as a falling leaf, so soft Chase wasn’t certain he’d actually heard it. But—

  “Chase …”

  Chase began to turn, but Zach stopped him: “Chase, freeze! Don’t move a muscle, man!”

  Chase caught the urgency in Zach’s voice and froze.

  Smith heard it, too, and stopped; the man glanced quickly all around, trying to identify the threat, then peered at Zach.

  Zach’s eyes were focused on Chase, but he lifted a finger and motioned for Treeck to come closer. Then he pointed.

  Chase heard Treeck suck in his breath.

  And a moment later, he felt it: there was something on the back of his shirt—big enough he could feel its weight—right between his shoulder blades.

  Crawling toward his neck.

  Chase’s knees began to tremble and he clenched his teeth, struggling to hold as still as he could.

  He could feel the thing moving, exploring, only inches now from his collar. The hair on his neck was standing on end, and he felt a powerful, overwhelming need to scream, or flap his arms, or mash his back against the nearest tree to crush whatever was there and squish it to jelly.

  He felt a tickle as a hairy antenna, or feeler, or leg, or tongue, or some other horrible appendage touched his skin, right above his collar. Chase clenched his eyes, and fists, locking his knees and holding his breath and fighting the need to scream.

  He felt someone step up behind him, heard Zach whisper, “Easy …”

  A hand abruptly smacked him across the back and Chase heard something drop into the brush and skitter away. He jumped—high enough to slam-dunk a basketball—and began to shake uncontrollably. Smith instantly had him by the shoulders.

  “Shhhh, shhhh, shhhh,” the man said. “You’re okay. Just breathe now, deep breaths, deep breaths, deep breaths … there you go.” Then: “Did it bite you?”

  Chase shook his head, still shivering, shaking like he was standing naked in the snow. He closed his eyes, shuddering as he tried to regain control.

  “Zach,” he rasped. “My back …”

  Zach knew instantly what his friend needed. Letting his rifle dangle from its straps, he attacked Chase’s back with both hands, scratching hard, digging his fingernails in like he was scraping off rust.

  Chase arched his back, feeling instant relief. He took a long, deep breath as Zach scratched so hard he was practically drawing blood, and after a moment began to relax.

  “Okay,” he said finally, turning. He shuddered again, then asked, “What the crap was it?”

  “I think it was a spider,” Zach said. “But it looked like a crab—it had a face!—and it was bigger than my hand.”

  “Where’d it come from?”

  “Don’t know. I just happened to look and saw it crawling up your back.”

  “Jeez, Louise,” Chase said, still not quite steady on his legs.

  “Glad you were here,” Zach said to Treeck. “Don’t think I could have touched it.”

  “Thought about shooting it,” Treeck quipped. “But wanted to save my ammo.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Chase replied dryly, appreciating the man for trying to lighten the mood.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Smith asked.

  “Yeah. Just … freaked out.” And then: “Sorry ’bout the noise.”

  “No worries,” Smith said. “We’ve all been there and done that and got the ugly T-shirts. Happens.”

  Chase nodded, feeling another enormous rush of gratitude, relieved the man wasn’t putting him down for acting like a little kid. He adjusted his grip on his rifle—touched the safety to make sure it was on—and took another breath.

  He looked up at Smith and nodded, telling the man he was ready to go. Smith glanced at Zach and Treeck, making certain everyone was okay, then turned and started again down the trail.

  Chase had to fight off another violent shudder before following.

  He looked at Smith.

  That man’s one of a kind, he thought.

  He knew without question that if Smith suddenly announced his intention to charge the gates of Hell, Chase would march in beside him.

  26 Zachisosaurs


  THEY HIKED ON.

  Chase tried several times to catch a glimpse of the mountains—looking for some sign of the sun coming up—but the trees were too tall, too thick. No way to see through them. He could see a few stars, but—

  From the side of the trail, an enormous shadow abruptly rose from the brush. Chase saw a massive set of jaws and the glint of yellow teeth as the monster bellowed with incredible ferocity.

  Zachiosaur!

  Chase reeled away—

  A second zachiosaur rushed in from the darkness—huge and terrifying—roaring with ear-shattering intensity.

  Chase stumbled backward, nearly falling in the brush, but caught himself and shoved his rifle toward the nearest dinosaur.

  Brraaaaaaat! Brraaaaaaat! Brraaaaaaat!

  The muzzle flashes were blinding and instantly destroyed his night vision. But the dinosaur was too close to miss. He fired again:

  Brraaaaaaat! Brraaaaaaat!

  The animal screeched in rage, then lowered its head and roared angrily.

  Brraaaaaaat!

  The dinosaur charged, flattening brush and snapping trees—

  Chase reeled back in terror, catching his boot in a tangle of roots. He fell onto his back, losing hold of his rifle just as the animal reached him. He curled into a ball, wrapping his hands around his head as a heavy foot slammed into the ground just inches away, dirt and rocks and twigs flying into his face. The entire forest was suddenly filled with shouts and yells, snorts and roars, continuous firing—

  Brraaaaaaat! Brraaaaaaat! Brraaaaaaat!

  —muzzle flashes splitting the darkness like fireworks.

  The zachiosaur bellowed with the power of a freight train, stamping at the ground and snapping at the brush, unaware that Chase was right beneath it. A massive foot crashed down, and then the other as the dinosaur thrashed about, searching for its prey. It lunged at a thicket of thorns as Chase flailed around, searching desperately for his rifle, tangled in the strap.

  The second zachiosaur rushed past, screeching as it attacked something to the side, its terrible claws churning up dirt and bits of torn-up foliage as it ran.

  Chase hopped to his knees as the first zachiosaur turned away, its muscular tail whipping past. The dinosaur lowered its head and roared, then snapped at something near the ground. It lifted its head, limbs and branches and leaves hanging from its mouth, and Chase heard the crack as massive teeth smashed together.