Dinosaur Thunder (5 page)

“Damn, I hate hunting,” Jacob muttered as he ran.

Back in the trees, the hunters gathered, nothing to show for the hunt but two balls and a penis.

“Man, that was intense,” Crazy Kramer said, visibly excited. “Let’s do it again!”

Ignoring Crazy, the others watched their meat disappearing down massive gullets.

“Better move on before they come looking for dessert,” Willy Williams said.

Following Williams, the dejected hunters walked in the general direction of the Home Depot.

“We can’t go back with nothing,” Mel Williams said, walking next to his father. “Everyone’s counting on us.”

“There was going to be a feast,” Jack Williams said, ending with a whine.

“Yeah,” Willy Williams said. “I know.”

“You know where we need to go,” Mel Williams said.

Jacob knew what Mel was suggesting, and he watched for Willy’s reaction.

“Yeah,” Willy Williams said after a long pause.

“We can’t go there,” Jacob said, pulling on Willy’s arm, looking the man in the eye.

Willy and Mel stopped, the other hunters surrounding them, listening to the argument.

“It’s too dangerous,” Jacob argued. “Even if we got away with the meat, they would come after us. It would trigger a war.”

“It’s better than starving to death,” Mel argued.

“The tyrannosaurs will move on soon,” Jacob argued. “They’ll follow the herds any day now. We can wait them out.”

“Something’s keeping the tyrannosaurs here,” Willy said. “They should have moved on weeks ago. Unless you want to hunt a tyrannosaur, I don’t see that we have any choice.”

“Fishing,” Jacob argued.

“Fishing!” Mel said, rolling his eyes and tilting his head back. “Even if you can dig one of those sonsofbitches out of the ground, it’s like eating a bag of glass.”

Lungfish were the only fish of any size near their village, and this time of year, the fish burrowed, surviving the dry season by hibernating. This long into hibernation, the fish were essentially bones held together by tough skin.

“Yeah, but they don’t kill you,” Jacob said.

“One bit my little girl’s finger off!” one of the hunters grumbled.

The lungfish were aggressive predators, with jaws and teeth capable of crushing shells.

“We can go to the big river,” Jacob said.

Nervous mumbling spread through the clump of men. There were edible fish in the big river to the south, but the Inhumans lived between them and the river. If they skirted their territory, it would take days to reach the river, and that meant days of living in the forest, vulnerable to predators.

“We’d have to dry the fish on the bank,” Willie said. “Otherwise, it would rot by the time we packed it all the way back to home.”

“Yeah, and we would stink like fish on the way back,” Mel Williams added. “You want to walk through the forest smelling like bait? For three days?”

The argument continued, some hunters taking the side of the Williams brothers, a few Jacob’s, the rest sitting it out. Jacob’s best hope of persuading the hunters came when Crazy Kramer joined those who wanted to raid the Inhumans. Crazy’s support worried the others, but not enough to win the debate. With Willy in the lead again, the hunters changed direction, following a dried-up stream to the valley of the Inhumans.

“This is a mistake,” Jacob muttered over and over as the hunters walked past. When the last of them was by, Jacob took up the rear, still muttering, “This is a mistake.”

4

Visitors

The states with the fewest earthquakes are Florida and North Dakota. The last recorded earthquake in Florida was three years ago.

—USGS: Earthquake Hazards Program

Present Time
Near Hillsdale, Florida

Carson Wills pulled off the highway onto the dirt road leading to the old wood-frame house and steel building that served as his home and business. The road connected three farms: one abandoned; one housing the Dinosaur Wrangler; and one functioning as a flophouse for thieves, drug dealers, and transients. Carson had seen so many vehicles, late-night visitors, and young men smoking on the porch of the drug house that he had no idea who actually paid the rent. Today, three men occupied the porch, two sitting on folding lawn chairs with ragged yellow webbing, another leaning against the wall. One was shirtless, one in a muscle tee, and the one leaning against the wall was in a denim shirt with the sleeves cut off. All held beer cans; a small pyramid of empties sat between the chairs. Carson nodded as he passed. The leaner one gave Carson the finger.

At Carson’s, Jeanette’s chickens pecked their way through the overgrown grass in front of the small porch. Jeanette was into organic eating, and in addition to the chickens had a garden in the back with carrots, lettuce, squash, tomatoes, and snap peas. Carson liked organic food—liked all food—but warned Jeanette regularly that if she went vegetarian, he would kick her vegan ass out the door. “We’ll see who kicks whose ass,” Jeanette always replied.

The front door of Carson’s office/house was open. Through the screen door Carson could see into the living room that served as his office. Carson hoped the air conditioner was turned off. Jeanette hated air-conditioning, blaming it for global warming, pollution, erectile dysfunction, and the decline in honeybee populations. She tolerated refrigerated air when Carson was home, but opened the doors and windows as soon as he left. “Move to Seattle,” Carson suggested once. “The sun doesn’t shine there.” “You can stick it somewhere the sun doesn’t shine,” Jeanette shot back. Jeanette had attitude, and Carson liked that in a woman—at least he liked it in Jeanette.

Carson’s golden retriever came from the shady side of the house, tail wagging, tongue lolling, scattering the chickens. Too old to give chase, Sally ignored the chickens, finding them annoying, not tempting. Jeanette pushed the screen door open, wearing boxer shorts and a pink T-shirt with the dinosaur wrangler character on the back, and the words
DINOSAUR WRANGLER
over her left breast—and what a nice breast it was, Carson thought, waving at Jeanette as he passed. The screen door screeched on opening and slammed when she released it, reminding Carson that he hadn’t gotten around to fixing the closer.

Carson pulled up next to the steel building that was once a barn, got out, scratched Sally’s head, and then kissed Jeanette, patting her bottom.

“You came back horny,” Jeanette said. “Hornier,” she corrected.

“What did you do to the neighbors?” Carson asked.

“Called the county and reported them for code violations. They’ve got four junk cars in the front yard, and none of them have current tags. An inspector showed up a little while ago and wrote them a citation. They have ten days to get rid of those cars. When he left, it got kind of ugly. They were dropping F-bombs on him like B-1s over Afghanistan. The inspector stopped by here when he got done and checked us out too. I think he was pretending to be fair. He hit on me.”

“Yeah?”

A lot of men hit on Jeanette. She had the kind of body men noticed, but what made them hit on her was the persistent naughty look on her face. Short brown hair framed a freckled face, a wide mouth, almond eyes, a small gap in her front teeth, and a suggestive smile made Jeanette look just a little trampy. She wasn’t easy, though; Carson dated her for six months before she took him to her bed.

“I came back a little richer,” Carson said, opening the back of the van.

“Raptor carcasses?” Jeanette said, surprised.

“They’re Visitors,” Carson said.

“What? You’re kidding.”

“They’re not tagged,” Carson said.

Jeanette wore her pants tight and her tops loose, but no matter how loose the top, her figure pushed and pulled the fabric in ways that got it noticed. After eighteen months with her now, Carson still watched her when she wasn’t looking. As Carson’s office manager, lover, and best friend, Jeanette understood the significance of an untagged raptor.

“Are you sure?” she asked, examining the neck and thighs.

“See for yourself,” Carson said, pulling his scanner from the van.

Jeanette ran the scanner over the carcasses one at a time. “Untagged raptors!” Jeanette said, amazed. “That’s supposed to be impossible.”

“What’s the reward?” Carson asked.

“Five thousand,” Jeanette said.

“Each?” Carson asked.

“I’m not sure,” Jeanette said. “No one’s ever found a Visitor before. They might try to pay us one finder’s fee for both.” Jeanette paused, put a finger to her lips, and smiled slyly. “We could freeze one and turn it in later,” she said.

Carson thought about it. “It won’t work. They would want to know where it came from, and it’s too easy to get tripped up when you start lying. Besides, the carcasses are covered in each other’s blood. They’re sure to type the blood to check against the gene database. We’d get caught for sure. Good idea, though.”

“What’s this?” Jeanette asked, pointing at the mound behind the carcasses.

Carson opened up both back doors, climbing in. Sally stood up, paws on the edge of the floor, sniffing the carcasses. Sally had sniffed a lot of dinosaurs but never a velociraptor.

“This is the jackpot,” Carson said, throwing back a blanket.

“Eggs!” Jeanette exclaimed.

“Raptor eggs,” Carson said. “And no one knows I have them.”

“Nesting raptors?” Jeanette said, surprised. “In Florida?”

“Yeah, go figure,” Carson said.

Jeanette climbed in, kneeling by the eggs, touching them. “They’re heavy,” Jeanette said. “And warm too.”

“We need to keep them that way,” Carson said. “You fix something up in the barn while I report our find. Those velociraptors are going south fast in this heat.”

Carson went to the house to make the call. Carson’s desk was an old door resting on two stacks of cinder blocks. Carson sat, pulling the computer keyboard closer, then surfed the Net to find the toll-free number for reporting off-reservation dinosaurs. Carson punched in the number and then waited in a phone queue for an operator.

“Dinosaur hotline, this is Lucille, how may I help you?”

Lucille said it so fast that Carson’s mind was a second behind, and he paused while it caught up.

“I found a couple of untagged dinosaurs, and I want to claim the reward,” Carson said.

“Yes, sir,” Lucille said. “Please give me your name and address.”

“Did you hear me?” Carson asked. “I found untagged dinosaurs and they’re predators—velociraptor. I know there’s a reward because I am looking at your website right now.”

“I heard you, sir,” Lucille said evenly. “We will need to verify your claim.”

“Want me to bring them in?” Carson asked.

“That’s not necessary,” Lucille said. “If there is a preserve or a university near you, a ranger or a faculty member may be able to do an initial screening.”

“Lucille, I catch dinosaurs for a living, and these are velociraptors. They don’t need no verification. Just write me that check.”

“We need to verify,” Lucille insisted.

Unable to argue her out of it, Carson agreed to drive the carcasses to the Ocala Preserve for verification. Carson found Jeanette in the barn piling straw. Carson helped her transfer the eggs, covering them with six more inches of straw.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Carson said, climbing back into his van.

“You’re going now?” Jeanette asked. “Robby called, and he wants to know if you’ll pay for the body damage to his van? That duck-bill you sent him after crushed the fender.”

“The insurance doesn’t cover that,” Carson said, opening the van door. “Call the insurance company and tell them it was a hit and run, but the deductible comes out of Robby’s fee, and tell him to watch where he parks his damn van.”

Jeanette nodded. She was used to running the operation when Carson was out on calls. Just then the ground trembled, Jeanette reaching out, grabbing one of the van’s mirrors to steady herself. A few seconds later, the trembling stopped.

“An earthquake in Florida?” Jeanette said.

“Weird,” Carson said, eyes on the ground.

After a few seconds, Jeanette and Carson relaxed.

“Don’t forget to bill Marty and Fanny Mills,” Carson said, climbing in and closing the van door.

Jeanette leaned in the open window, kissing Carson. “Do you have to go right now?” she whispered.

“It’s either that or throw the raptors in the fridge.”

“Go,” Jeanette said, pulling back out, her pouty frown even sexier than her smile.

The leaner and his friends were still on the porch when Carson drove past, the beer can pyramid a little taller now. The leaner flipped Carson off again.

Jeanette watched Carson until he was gone, then decided to check on the eggs one more time. If Carson could make the right connection, the eggs might be worth fifteen or even twenty thousand each. Sally was already in the barn, sniffing the pile of straw. Suddenly, Sally went rigid, the hair on her neck up. Following Sally’s stare, Jeanette saw a patch of straw move.

5

Office of Security Science

After the discovery on the moon, we sent a team to the Yucatán and discovered similarly altered orgonic material. We have gathered and secured that material.

—Dr. Nick Paulson, classified report to the President

Present time
Office of Security Science
Washington, D.C.

Feet on an open desk drawer, hands behind his head, Nick Paulson stared at the ceiling, thinking about the good old days. Nick was a college professor once, teaching one section of Modern Physics fall and winter, and a section of Quantum Physics in the spring. Because Nick was a tenure-track faculty member, his lab took the bulk of his time, where three graduate students did all the grunt work, and Nick published two peer-reviewed articles a year. As Nick remembered it now, he’d had no worries when he was a professor. He loved research, the teaching came naturally, and his biggest concern was getting tenure—and he did not care about tenure. Today, leaning back in his chair, Nick was sure that teaching was the good life, because when he was a teacher, dinosaurs were still extinct.