Crucible of a Species (38 page)

He continued down the trail,
No, it saw me all right. We looked right into each other’s eyes. Now you really got me curious, big fellow. What the hell are you guys doing down there?

The stream led into a lightly wooded area. He was getting close to whatever was attracting the dinosaurs but something ahead didn’t look right. The trees were standing in moving water; the whole area was flooded.

Brief glimpses of distant movement flitted through the trees. The predators were dangerously close but Martel’s curiosity drove him onward into the waters in spite of the risk.

Moving cautiously from tree to tree he spotted more than a dozen large predators. Several groups were moving through the newly inundated trees. He watched them pass by each other, drawing no reaction.

This is insane
, echoed through Martel’s brain as he continued onwards. Strange thing was, he wasn’t sure if his thought referred to his moving even closer to these dangerous animals or the strangely social behavior of the groups of deadly tyrannosaurs.

Looking down, he noticed the newly flooded bushes were still green and alive at his feet. The flooding must be recent but they hadn’t had any rain.

The regular, repetitive sound of movement through the water on the other side of the bushes had to be more tyrannosaurs. He’d have to move quietly, relying on the cover provided by the mix of tree trunks and larger shrubs. The depth of the water lessened as he neared the far rock wall of the canyon forming the base of the peninsula. This was a good sign. Maybe he’d be able to slip by if he followed the base of the cliff.

Splashing sounds from many big animals grew louder as he approached, but they remained hidden in the dense trees and shrubs. Portions of the sky peeked through; he was nearing the edge of the forest. The waters deepened and the current was growing in strength, threatening to throw him off-balance with every step.

Passing a thick copse of bushes, he could see tyrannosaurs moving in groups of twos and threes. Their strangely social behavior made little sense; what he saw behind the animals made even less.

From this vantage, he could see where the woods ended and the floodwaters continued to form a small lake. Something on the other side of the lake was blocking the marine’s view of what had to be open fields. Problem was, he didn’t know what that thing was.

Martel had a hard time believing his own eyes. The thing looked like a smooth, light grey wall of some unrecognizable material and it blocked both the stream’s water and his path out of the valley. It was enormous, high enough to rise above the dammed waters but not as tall as the cliffs beyond and it extended across the entire valley.

Can’t see anything from down here but that pine ahead has some low branches I can reach. Never really liked climbing pine trees. The branches break too easily but …

Moving over to a smaller pine, the marine balanced his spears and throwing stick in the branches, safely storing them above the moving waters. He had to jump to grab the lowest branch of the tree and then quickly clambered up until he could see across the lake.

Even from up here, the scene below made little sense. The wall now looked more like a smooth grey rock, roughly shaped like the bottom of a ship that was straddling the valley floor across where the stream used to flow. On each end of it projected long, submerged tubes over which the blocked waters of the lake churned like the spillways of a damn. The structure completely blocked and diverted the stream in this narrow section of the valley, extending between the two peninsulas by little more than half a hundred yards.

On the other side of the dam, he could see the dry original bed of the stream. Dozens of predators, of all types, excitedly scurried across the plain beyond the wall. Even more surprising, three thick, grey pylons extended from the structure into this dry area as though a great, grey submarine had fallen from huge supporting pillars, taking the supports down with it.

Where did this come from? Who made it? That thing’s bigger than a Hunter Recon, maybe two. What the….?

Six small predators climbed and then ran up one of the pillars to the top of the obstruction. From there, they travelled along its crest until they neared the point where another pillar met the grey object. Here they immediately started scratching at the object, jumping around in excited animation.

The grey object was unnatural. None of this made sense to Martel until he saw one of the small beasts bend down and rip out a chunk of something from the object. It lifted its head high into the air and began gulping it down as the others scrambled to dig into the hole.

They’re eating it. There’s so much …. Shit, that’s an animal blocking the valley.

Now that he knew what to look for, Martel noticed dozens of predators, large and small alike wolfing down great chunks of flesh torn from the fallen behemoth. More than fifty yards in length, it made the mighty tyrannosaurs around it look tiny.

That’s why there’s no fighting. There’s more than enough for everyone. That has to be one of the big brontosaurs the doc was describing. No, not brontosaur, what did she call them? Diplodocus or something like that, I think. We saw them off in the distance from the Hunter but shit, to block the whole valley like that?

With this, he realized his hopes of escaping around them were as dead as that mountain of flesh. The backed-up waters filled the entire valley. Predators from this side were in the waters, trying to get to the free meal. Who knows how many moved about on the other side, hidden by the gargantuan body?

He had little choice but to turn and head back. The sergeant climbed down, retrieved his atlatl and stopped,
Aw shit, it’s gotten deeper and nothing looks familiar. Well, I still have the valley’s walls to guide me and the path should be in towards its center.

Martel was now moving upstream and pushing against the current was hard going and noisy. The water’s depth gradually lowered as he moved away from the dead sauropod. He was still nervous of the predators behind him and couldn’t help but constantly glance backwards.

The submerged ground became softer with every step;
I must be getting too close to the stream-bed. Oh shit, not now ….

Martel froze as the raptors emerged from the bushes on the dry bank. They were shoulder high to the marine but had no fear of humans and would attack without hesitation. The pack ran towards the water’s edge on two swift feet holding long feathered, claw-tipped arms out in front of them. Each foot had a large, switchblade-like killing claw that extended in the air as they ran.

They spotted the human, squealing in excitement as the group turned towards him. The pack seemed a bit hesitant before entering into the soft, water-covered ground and that gave Martel enough time to put his back to a nearby tree while sticking the spears tip-down into the soft ground around his feet. In one quick motion, he notched a spear and prepared to throw at the nearest predator. Martel waited, he’d been practicing but couldn’t hope to hit the rapidly moving animal at this distance.

A second raptor emerged from behind some half-submerged bushes to his right. Martel shifted his aim. He was drawing back the spear when the raptor let out a squeal and disappeared below the surface of the water. There was a single, brief splash followed by violent churning of muddy water from below.

Martel stared in amazement. The other four raptors had also stopped but the distraction held their attention for only a moment before they returned to the attack, quickening their pace as they splashed towards the sergeant. The marine drew back his spear but as he watched, a second raptor went under. Its head disappeared beneath the water’s surface then briefly reappeared. It splashed and floundered for a second before managing to escape with an ear-piercing squeal as it ran on all fours through the shallow water back towards dry land. The pack stopped, stunned in their confusion, before turning to follow the fleeing raptor.

Mosasaur!
The fear raced through Martel as he grabbed his spears and quickly followed the retreating pack. The sergeant had barely taken half-a-dozen steps when the bottom dropped out from under him and he plunged into deep water. He thrust down with his feet only to have them sink into black, viscous mud.

Frantically he struck out with his hand and it brought an avalanche of soft mud upon him, his struggles serving only to suck him deeper below the surface. Martel kicked pushing against the clinging mud of the quagmire but couldn’t find anything solid. Then his panicked mind realized that he had stopped sinking only because his other hand still held the spear and it was stuck on something above his head.

Martel pulled on the shaft, straining as hard as he could against the sucking muck around his legs. His other hand brushed against a stone filled ledge. Frantically he thrust his fingers into the mud-covered wall. They scraped through the muck, sinking deep into the mire until he felt roots and sticks. They held as he pulled and, with strength born of desperation, the marine strained against the deep ooze entrapment. The grasping slime reluctantly gave way and released him. He shot upward gasping great gulps of air as his head broke the surface.

The marine kicked only to have his legs hit the muddy side of another underwater wall that threatened to dislodge his grip. Martel swung them back to try to float on the water but his feet hit another soft wall. Completely disoriented and near panic, he flailed until one hand brushed a submerged bush. Taking a breath, Martel twisted and stretched, grabbing it with both hands until he was able to pull himself back into the shallows. The waters flowed around him as he lay there with his head just above the churning liquid stream, gasping in great lungfulls of wonderful air.

Turning over, he sat up and was surprised to see his precious atlatl floating against the bough of a nearby bush. The waters had cleared around him except for a large oval area. Inside it swirled a sinister, muddy cloud that seemed to float beneath the water’s clear surface. He looked over to where the other raptor had drowned. The stream flowed evenly through the woodland where the predator had been, masking the spot where it had vanished.

Martel cautiously started towards the dry bank, carefully examining the flooded bottom before placing each foot. His eyes strained as he tried to look through the swirl of currents, carefully finding solid ground for each step.
Those dinos must have fallen into pits just like I did.

He had moved only a few yards when he saw a round, dark shadow undulating beneath clear, shallow water. It was nearly six-feet long and the gentle flow of the stream churned lightly as it passed over. The sergeant thrust a spear into the dark circle. A shiver ran through him as his arm pushed it all the way down without touching a solid bottom. The strangeness of it spooked the marine,
Never seen anything like it, another damn trap. How many are there?

Moving cautiously and testing the bottom before each step, he passed around the edge of the deadly, sunken pit. A few yards further along he came across another hole but his spear now hit bottom when he tested it. As Martel neared the water’s edge, he could see through the thinning woods into the distance and he knew dry fields lay close ahead. Two parallel, widely spaced lines of nearly-round holes lead from the shoreline and off into the distant open field. They were two-feet deep with a layer of crushed grass covering the bottom of each pit. Martel now understood the deadly trap into which he had fallen.

The massive sauropod had walked this way before dying. Dr. Shieve had told him the animals could weigh more than one hundred and twenty tons and for the first time, he understood what that meant. The monster’s passage left deep pits even in the dry ground. As it crossed the valley, the dinosaur tracked into the swampy lowlands by the stream, sinking even deeper into the soft ground.

When the mountain of flesh died down in the valley, it fell across the stream. Its great body blocked the water’s flow, causing this shallow lake. The rising waters swept over and filled the deep holes with a fine mix of sand and mud forming a line of very natural, very deadly traps.

Martel’s heart sang as he looked over the field, Finding the path should be easy from here. Wait a minute. No use in repeating my footsteps. It’s not only a dangerous thing to do but it’s time wasted.

Turning towards the opposite side of the valley, he crossed over to the rock face of the peninsula before continuing his trek back towards the mainland.
Somehow, I have to get out of this dead-end canyon. If I follow that wall then, with any luck, I’ll come across a trail leading up the cliff even if it is on the wrong peninsula.

Travel was harder along the foot of the cliff. Rocks and occasional mudslides fell from the walls with every storm forming a skirt of loose debris along the valley’s edge. Martel moved slowly and with great care. A sprained ankle or a misstep in this hard, uneven slope would be certain death.

The valley narrowed as Martel approached its end, ahead of him towered the daunting cliffs of the mainland plateau. He still hadn’t found an upward path and was beginning to grow concerned when the marine spotted the rockfall.

A large section of the upper plateau had broken away from the mainland above leaving behind a discolored face of bare, jagged stone little touched by the effects of weathering. The debris piled at the foot of the cliff creating a boulder-filled slope extending halfway up the rocky face. The cliffs above the slope were steep and they would present the final obstacle. Then he noticed a “V” shaped crevasse splitting the rocky face, cutting deeply into the high plateau. It would take a bit of climbing but he’d be able to use the fissure to take him all the way to the top.