K-Rex: A Prehistoric Thriller Read online

  “Jesus,” Becky said. “Do you hear yourself? You’re trying to make it sound like this is all just a big nothing. Six or seven dinosaurs in a herd is six or seven more than anywhere else in the world. How could you not tell us? We have no secrets. That’s how we’ve always operated. As a family. Erb’s right. Shelton’s dead, John. Dead. That’s on you.” She stormed out of the cabin, slamming the door behind her.

  Again, no one spoke. An eerie silence filled the spaces between them.

  At this point, Powell had no choice but to at least accept everything. He wasn’t completely convinced, but he had to accept what he heard. He did not want to end up like Shelton. “I’m asking again, John, what are we going to do next? If those things are really out there, when’s a good time to make a run for it? When?”

  “They’ve never come this close to camp. I’ve never seen them by the dig.”

  “How do you know they’re here now?” Claire said.

  “I thought I saw one when we were headed out. Wasn’t positive. They seem to blend in with their surroundings. I felt like we were being watched.”

  “But you’re not sure?” Powell said.

  “They were following us.”

  “But you didn’t see them,” Powell said. “We should have kept moving. Coming back here was a bad idea. We’re worse off now. We’re in more danger now.”

  Akia pointed at the ceiling and began talking. “Nous devrions aller dans mon village. Nous sommes en sécurité. Les dinosaures ne déranger personne. Il ya un accord en place. Nous sacrifions pour eux, ils nous laissent tranquilles. Les anciens de mon village vont nous protéger. Nous tous.”

  Powell stared at Marksman. “What is he saying? What is he so jumpy about?”

  “He’s talking gibberish,” Marksman said.

  “Doesn’t sound like it to me. It sounds important. Like he might be trying to warn us. Or help us. What’s he saying?” Powell said.

  “He wants us to go to his village. He says his elders have some deal with the dinosaurs. We’ll be safe with his people,” Marksman said, raising his eyebrows as if saying, See? Gibberish.

  Powell ran his hands through his hair, ready to pull it out. “Thank you,” he said to Akia, if only to be polite. “Thank you.”

  How in the world would the elders negotiate a peace treaty with velociraptors? If he wasn’t so angry, and scared, and tired, and damp, he’d laugh. He’d sit down in a corner of the cabin with his knees drawn up to his chest, and laugh.

  One thought stopped him from losing it, from getting hysterical. Well. It wasn’t as much a thought, as it was a question. He looked at Akia and said, “Why don’t the dinosaurs attack your people? Ask him, John.”

  “He already told us,” Marksman said.

  “I’m sorry,” Powell said. “I still don’t speak French. Mind translating for us?”

  “The villages leave food, sacrifices, for the raptors. It keeps them away from the people,” Marksman said.

  “Like the aboriginal natives in King Kong?” Claire said. “Tying the limbs of virgins to giant stakes?”

  “I have no idea how or what they do,” Marksman said. “But it works. The dinos don’t go near the villagers. No more than a hyena or lion might. For the most part, the people that share the Congo with the raptors are more or less…safe.”

  “Shit. Shit. Shit.” Powell had no idea what to do. Never had anything felt more surreal. He had no problem believing he was either at home asleep, or in a hospital bed in a coma. Maybe he’d been in a horrific car accident on his way into work. Hooked up to all kinds of life support, this nightmare he was in was now his reality. It was not only possible, it was more probable than dinosaurs and native sacrifices to keep the monsters away.

  Gunfire erupted outside the cabin.

  Erb looked at Stacy and reached for his rifle. “Becky!” he said.

  “Ian, stay here,” Marksman said.

  Erb, Stacy, and Marksman ran out of the cabin.

  Claire locked eyes with Powell. “What do we do?”

  “You heard John. I’m keeping an eye on you. Get everyone to the center of the room. Come on,” Ian said, the tremor in his accent made his words that much more difficult to understand.

  “You have to show us how to use the weapons,” Powell said. “I want a gun.”

  “You ever fired one of these?” Ian held up his handgun.

  Powell shook his head.

  “The rifle?”

  Powell said, “No.”

  “Hang on to the machete.”

  “How hard can it be?” Powell said.

  Ian chewed on his lip. “It’s about safety. I don’t want you shooting yourself. Or hurting someone else. That would fall on me. I don’t need that shit; you see what I’m saying?”

  He held up the handgun. “This is how you eject the clip. See if it has bullets. It does. You’re good. This is how you load it. Pop it back in like this. Safety on. Safety off. Aim, keep both eyes open. They only close one eye in the movies. You have a better chance of hitting your target with both eyes on it. Okay? You pull the trigger. Got it?”

  Powell nodded. “Got it.”

  Ian went to a case, spun the combination locks and opened it. He handed a gun to Powell and Claire. “Nothing against the Congolese, but they ain’t getting one. Give them your machetes. They know how to use those. They practically come out of the womb with one. It’s like a damned extension of their arm.”

  “Are we going to their village?” Claire said.

  “You heard the King Kong reference?” Ian said. “You want to be that virgin tied to the posts? Not me. I’d rather make for the river. We can find a boat. I am not that big on science, but I’m thinking those fuckers aren’t the best swimmers.”

  “How far to the river?” Powell said. It was the first plan he’d heard that made any sense. He could get behind something like that. “How hard is it to find a boat?”

  “We get to the river, there will be boats. Trust me. River ain’t close, but it’s closer than trying to make it all the way back to where we left the SUVs,” Ian said.

  Everyone waited, listening. It had been several moments since the other mercs left the cabin. There had not been any more gunshots fired. In fact, it was so silent outside the cabin, it was creepy.

  “What do you think is going on?” Claire said. She turned the gun over in her hands. She held it as if it were delicate glass and it might break if she weren’t careful. Her fingertips traced the gun’s grip. “Should we check on them?”

  Powell stuffed the extra clips of ammunition into his pockets. It didn’t seem like enough. At least the machete didn’t run out of blade.

  “We stay put. They’ll be back and will let us know what’s happened.” Ian looked toward the window at the front of the cabin. Powell thought he looked apprehensive. The merc must be worried about Becky and the others. The merc. That wasn’t the right way to think about him. Ian. Ian must be worried about Becky and the others.

  “You know how to get to the river from here?” Powell said.

  Ian nodded. “I do.”

  “Have a map?”

  He shook his head. “We had everything on GPS. If you head south west, you’ll come across it.”

  Powell shook his head and shrugged.

  Ian pointed. “That way.”

  Powell cringed when rapid gunshots were fired. They sounded close. Someone screamed. The cry was filled with terror. More gunshots. And more, still.

  Ian went to the door. “You guys stay put!”

  Claire dropped to her knees. The girls hugged her, burying their faces against her chest. Claire cupped the back of their heads, keeping them close, perhaps hoping that at least made them feel safe. “You can’t leave us.”

  “John told you to stay,” Powell said as well. He did not want to lose Ian. He had no idea what was happening to the others. They needed someone with them who knew the land and who spoke English. If anything happened to all the mercenaries, they were in trouble. More trouble. He d
idn’t want to think about that. “Ian? You can’t leave us.”

  The man looked torn. He kept his hand on the doorknob. Powell knew he wanted to run out and start shooting. He felt an obligation to protect them, as Marksman commanded. Powell sensed he’d rather be caught up in the firefight, side-by-side with his comrades on the rain forest battlefield. Ian closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. He banged the butt of his handgun against his forehead. Staying inside the cabin appeared to be killing him.

  “Ian,” Powell said, thinking fast. He wanted the man to feel useful. The mercenary’s skills could prove essential to their very survival, especially if anything happened to the others. He didn’t want to think that way, but was trying to be realistic. They were out there shooting at dinosaurs. He saw what had happened to Shelton. If there was actually a pack of velociraptors out there hunting people, it could very well just be the eight of them left. “We need to have a plan. We should be ready to do something, to go somewhere. If we have to stay inside the cabin, let’s figure out what we will do next. Okay? Ian?”

  Ian lowered his weapon. He opened his eyes. When he let go of the doorknob and stood up straight, he looked far more composed and sane. His brow was riddled with beads of sweat. He wiped it away with his forearm. “The river,” he said.

  “Exactly. The river. Let’s talk this through.”

  Chapter 14

  Ian Ross rifled through the cabinet filled with supplies. He tossed out items left and right. He stopped when he found a spiral notebook and a pen. “I knew we had this. No idea what for, but thought I’d seen it. One of the other Circuitz people must have brought it along for their tour and left it behind,” Ian said, and then with a sharpie drew a rudimentary map of the area, labeling parts. Everyone hovered around him, and behind him, watching.

  “Okay. This is us. The camp, the cabin,” he said. “This was the path we were taking. At this point here, it cuts to the left. It is not nearly as well-worn a trail.”

  “That’s not saying much. I didn’t even know we were on one before,” Powell said, smiling. He wanted to eliminate some tension. The stress levels were high. He was on edge. He could only surmise the others were as well. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

  Ian cleared his throat, as if annoyed, and then pointed the tip of the sharpie at the paper. A black dot grew as the paper absorbed the ink. “If you follow this here, a day out, you’ll reach the river. Twelve, maybe fourteen hours walking. The terrain is mostly level. You will come across villages. You’re going to be tempted to stop, ask for help. Fight it.”

  “Fight it?” Claire said.

  “Not every village in the Congo welcomes white people with open arms. I’m not saying you’d be in danger. If anything, they might be intrigued by your presence. They don’t often see Americans in the jungle. Thing is, some are hostile. If they see you as a threat, it won’t mean shit to them if they kill you and then go about their day. And don’t forget the King Kong theory. I don’t think it’s a joke. I think it happens. A lot,” Ian said.

  Powell’s tongue felt dry. He tried swallowing. There was no spit in his mouth.

  Akia and Ruh began talking. They took turns saying something to each other. Ruh knelt down by the hand-drawn map. He pointed at the trail Ian outlined and followed it to the river. He shook his head.

  “What’s he saying? What’s he mean?” Powell said.

  “Not a fucking clue,” Ian said.

  Akia made a motion like he was paddling a canoe, pushing an imaginary oar through the water on one side of the craft, and then on the other.

  “River? The river?” Ian said and pretended he was swimming in water.

  Akia nodded. “Oui, oui.”

  “That means yes,” Claire said.

  Powell almost rolled his eyes. Everyone knew oui meant yes. It would have been easy to bark at her. He bit his tongue instead. She was trying to be helpful. He knew as much.

  Ruh traced his finger on the paper from the cabin to the river. It was more of a straight line. Then he backed up and pointed to an unmarked spot on the map, and then to himself and the young girls. He pointed to another unmarked spot on the map, and then at Kacancu and at Akia.

  “That must be where they live,” Claire said.

  Ian sighed. It came out sounding like a groan. “They want to go home.”

  “Can you blame them?” Powell said. “If their elders truly have some kind of arrangement with the raptors, out here they’re in danger. We have an obligation to get them home. Safely.”

  “I have an obligation to save my own ass,” Ian said.

  Powell stood over Claire and the young girls. “Then you better do what you have to do. I’m going to get these people home, and then we’ll find a way to reach that river, even if we have to do it without your help.”

  “Without me?” Ian said and snickered.

  “I’d prefer all of us doing it together,” Powell said. He hated the cocky way the merc laughed at them. All brawn and brass. While in this particular situation it made their skills appealing, he hated this kind of guy. They always managed to get under his skin, irritating him with such ease. “And I think I’m going to need your help convincing John that this might be the best course of action.”

  “You haven’t sold me. And I’m the easy one. Convincing John, now that will be a hard sell,” Ian said. “I don’t think you get it. We’re trying to be cool about this. We don’t want to stand here and lecture just for the sake of scaring the shit out of you. Things are not good. I’ve seen these monsters. They’re fast. They’re smart. And worst of all, they’re fierce. We’ve got limited supplies, and as of right now, we’re pretty much stranded in a part of the world where by the time someone decides to come looking for us, it’ll be too fucking late. These people,” Ian motioned toward the natives with a wave of his hand, “they live here. They grew up here. They know what’s what. You see what I’m saying? We can let them get home on their own. They’ll be fine. They’ve been surviving inside this jungle since forever. They’ll continue to do so long after we’ve gone. You want me to help convince John, shit son, you have no clue who we are, do you?”

  Powell swallowed. His mouth was dry. His throat hurt. He didn’t want to wince. What he needed was more water. It was part of the limited supplies Ian had mentioned. He knew things were bad. He wasn’t stupid. However, hearing it all outlined made it more real; made it far worse. He could clam up, and not reply to Ian’s rant, but that showed weakness. He did not want to lose ground. The command was his, if he was man enough to hang onto the rung. “Well, regardless. It’s what we’re going to do,” Powell said.

  Ian shook his head, smiling. Powell thought this was actually a good sign. It meant Ian thought he was a little bit crazy. The mercs respected crazy best he could tell.

  “We’re not going anywhere until we know what’s going on out there,” Ian said.

  Powell almost grinned when Ian said we’re. That was another great sign. “That’s a given.”

  “I don’t want to leave anyone behind. We need to account for everyone before we do anything. Agreed?” Ian said. His tune had changed. It was hard for Powell not to consider this a small victory. He’d savor the moment, but celebrate it later after everyone was safe and away from the threat of flesh eating dinosaurs.

  Powell nodded. He wasn’t sure how they could do that. The other mercenaries could be anywhere. The jungle went on and on forever, it seemed. If no one returned, did Ian expect them to first track down the others?

  He didn’t want to let go of hope. He prayed the others were safe, and unharmed, and out in the trees chasing shadows. The way his stomach flipped and flopped, he didn’t think that was the case. He had an uneasy feeling about…well, about everything.

  “First things first, I need to find out what’s going on out there.”

  Powell realized he hadn’t heard any gunshots since they started discussing the routes on the hand drawn map. That could be a good sign. More than likely it was not. He wondered what
went through Ian’s mind. The merc stood by the door, listening.

  Claire and the others remained huddled close together.

  Ian said, “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  Powell didn’t like that. They had done enough waiting. They were losing daylight. He was not looking forward to a thirteen hour walk through the rain forest. The last thing he wanted was completing the trek in the dark. He held up his handgun. “We’re coming with you.”

  Powell ushered everyone out of the cabin behind Ian Ross. Claire held her handgun in both hands. They trembled. He worried she might accidentally squeeze the trigger until he noticed, thankfully, her fingers were outside of the trigger guard. So instead he worried she might drop the weapon. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. His mind was full of worry. He couldn’t recall a single time in his life he’d ever been this scared. Thinking about other things—like Claire dropping her gun—was actually something of a welcome distraction. He needed an image, any image, to chase away the memories of Shelton’s mangled corpse, and the lingering pungent odor of his seared flesh in a failed attempt to cauterize the massive wound and stop the bleeding.

  He concentrated on his breathing. He didn’t want to hyperventilate. When he was a kid, it happened a lot. His mother made him breathe in and out into a paper bag. That never helped. He’d tried telling her as much. She didn’t want to hear it. The technique was all over the internet at some point. When she read something on the internet, it became gospel. Eventually, he learned ways to calm himself down. The easiest way was by simply by focusing on his breathing. Mentally slowing his heartbeat down. In and out. In and out. It worked, and that was what mattered.

  He tried it now. Breathing. Concentrating on his heartbeat.