The bullet shattered the convertible’s low windshield. Hugh dove down into the seat well, pushing the lawn chair out of the way. It had taken only a second or two for them to lock in on him, and he wondered if it was AI assisted sound targeting, something he’d read about. One of the many things AIs were considered unethical to use for.
He was still in darkness but assumed there was an infrared spotlight on him.
Another bullet hit, and he felt it shake the car. White spotlights found the car. Another bullet put a hole through the door at his feet and a shaft of light shone through and sent him scampering, curling up into a ball under the steering wheel. He had to get out of the car. Fumbling at the door latch with his good hand, he tugged and pushed, hoping to get it open without falling out.
Shouting, coming from the direction of the vehicles, grew louder, and he knew they’d be on him soon.
He tugged the latch again, fighting twenty years of disuse, and pushed his good shoulder into it. The door gave with a wretched creak of rusted metal that carried out into the night. Hugh found himself looking out over the fence toward a small bobbing light that was approaching quickly.
There was a flash next to the light and a moment later a bullet struck the car.
Trapped, Hugh drew his .357 and quickly fired the three varmint-shot rounds out toward the flashlight, knowing they wouldn’t have any effect from this distance but hoping it would at least make them slow.
The tiny light bobbed, and Hugh imagined he could see the two men dodging. He took the chance, dropped his pistol to the ground twenty feet below, and then rolled himself out of the convertible’s door even as more bullets hit the other side and more shafts of light appeared through the door.
Hanging from the edge of the foot well, Hugh said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t land on the fence or eviscerate himself on a jagged piece of crushed car, and he let go.
He landed on his feet, knees buckling under him, and rolling him into the fence. Cracks of bullets hitting above him made him flinch, and he twisted around in the three feet between the stack of cars and the fence, moving himself deeper into the shadows created by the spotlight spilling through gaps in the wall of cars.
His hand fell on the gun he’d dropped. He grabbed it and raised it up, steadying his weak arm with his good one. Grimacing with the effort, he aimed at the bobbing light out in the dark prairie and fired.
The return fire was near instantaneous, and the world around Hugh exploded into a hot spray of dirt, steel, and lead. Hugh covered his face with his elbow and folded down into the dirt.
The hail of bullets stopped with a distant scream. More shots were fired, but no bullets hit, and Hugh cautiously raised his eyes to look out through the fence.
The light was gone, and something moved in the darkness. Something big.
The roar of a motor pulled Hugh’s attention to the far end of the junkyard fence. One of the armored trucks, having circled the property, came into view, spotlights piercing the night, shining up the fence line, following the row of cars. It only took seconds for the light to find Hugh, huddled at the base of the wall.
He scrambled to his feet, ignoring whatever was wrong with his knee, and ran for all he was worth, trying to thread the needle between the sharp edges of crushed cars and the jagged spurs on the old chain-link fence snagging at his sleeves. A bullet hit in front of him, throwing metallic flecks that shone in the spotlight. Another hit behind him, feeling to him like it had narrowly missed his head. And the then spotlight left him.
Barreling full speed, he stumbled as the light moved out ahead of him and on to a tree trunk. Even as he irrationally thought there were no trees here, the light moved up to reveal the golden eyes of the rex.
Bright red blood covered its serrated, six-inch teeth and dripped from its jaw.
Hugh heard the truck slide to a stop in the loose dirt as the spotlight wavered and then found its way back to the behemoth.
“What the fuck!”
The voice was right in front of Hugh, right where the other gunman had cut through the fence, and Hugh dropped to the ground and pressed himself into the shadows.
Gunfire erupted from the truck.
The three men appearing from the break in the car wall, transfixed by the rex, never looked toward Hugh.
“Jesus Christ! Is that what I think it is?”
“Stop yapping, start shooting!”
The rex was already charging the armored truck when the men opened fire, shooting at its back, following it as it lowered its head, bellowed, and attacked the truck.
Hugh gripped his pistol and swallowed. He couldn’t let them kill the rex. He’d called it here. Raising the gun, he stepped out of the shadows. “Drop your weapons!”
One man turned and rolled his eyes at Hugh.
“Drop them!” Hugh yelled.
“Yeah, yeah,” the man said as the other two turned to see what was happening.
The first suddenly jerked his rifle up at Hugh and fired. Hugh shot back, throwing himself to the side, not knowing if he hit the man or not. He fired two more times as the men shot at him.
He felt a sledgehammer pound into him, and the earth shook under him, but he continued to shoot back until the magazine emptied.
One of the men vanished under a blur of motion as a giant foot came down upon him, shaking the earth again. A second disappeared into a dark maw of impossibly big teeth. The third turned man and fired twice up into the belly of the rex before another giant foot came down and ended him. The impact vibrated Hugh’s teeth.
Hugh gasped for air, unable to move, his body in shock. He knew he was shot, but he couldn’t tell where or how many times. And he didn’t want to know.
The rex stepped closer, dripping things off its foot, and brought its horrid, bloody face down to Hugh’s face. The smell of hot blood washed over Hugh and he gagged. The rex dropped its nose to the dirt and tilted its head to look Hugh in the eyes.
He met its gaze for a moment and then nodded. He closed his eyes and turned his face up to the heavens. It was finally time to be with his family again.
The rex nosed him, as it had the ’ceratops, and Hugh felt its wet breath dampen his shirt. A calm came over him and he relaxed his body and waited.
The rex took a deep breath…and sneezed.
Hugh opened his eyes. The darkness ahead of him was broken up by streaks of light from spotlights in the junkyard casting long shadows out into the darkness. The rex’s form dappled as it slowly passed through the light beams, and Hugh could see several trickles of blood from wounds on its flank before it silently vanished into the night.
Moving slowly himself, not wanting to know how badly he was hurt, not wanting to guess how long it would be until he bled out, Hugh fumbled at his shirt pocket and found his pack of cigarettes, crushed. He worked at it with the only hand that would move, the one that had been worthless earlier, and managed to put a broken cigarette in his mouth. He didn’t have anything to light it with, but that didn’t matter. It smelled good.
He raised his eyes to the night sky, to the billions of stars, and sighed. “Here’s to you, Papi.”
His wristphone vibrated, and he lifted his arm to look at the flickering, cracked screen.
TRAUMATIC INJURY DETECTED. PLEASE REMAIN CALM. CALLING FOR HELP.
Hugh silenced the notification on his new wristphone and picked up the new NetTab off the kitchen table. He tapped the screen to see the vid and was glad to see the approaching truck and trailer right on time.
Finishing his coffee, he put on his hat, kissed his fingers and touched them to the photo of his family, and adjusted the sling holding his right arm. He tucked his crutch under his left arm and stepped out of the trailer home to meet the truck as it pulled through the front gate. The truck stopped in a cloud of dust and the passenger window rolled down revealing a young boy.