All firing ceased for a moment as the creature paused to eye them. Standing there with its spoils held in a gargantuan maw, the dinosaur looked upon them with ancient wisdom in its large, yellow eyes. Imposing, the creature reflected an air of conquest. Then, it turned and broke through the brush, snapping trees like twigs, and disappearing before its body could have moved completely out of sight, camouflaged by the tropical brush and obscured by the heavy mist.
Peterson stared at the pathway the dinosaur had just created, as if doing so might somehow bring the young marine back to life. The thought of a creature so large being concealed until you were directly upon it was unsettling. A clap of thunder, and a deluge followed. Rain moved across the island and doused them on the eastern side of the atoll.
“What next?” Tomko stood by him expectantly.
Others gathered around, waiting quietly for instructions.
“We’ve got to continue inland and complete our mission.”
“Doesn’t that thing change our plans?” This from Private Davidson, who glanced at Peterson, almost pleading with him.
Peterson shook his head, and Davidson looked at the ground. “Afraid not.”
The lieutenant considered their options. Running from the Tyrannosaurus Rex had taken them off course. They’d strayed from the animal trail that led from the small lagoon into the interior.
Now they’d lost their bearing, and the dark sky prevented him from ascertaining their location. Peterson reached into a pocket and pulled out his compass. He’d never expected to use it on such a small land mass during a simple mission.
Before he could get the sighting-cover flipped open, a volley of shots echoed from the distance. Raiders had met the enemy inland. He charted a course northwest.
“Got the direction?” said Tomko.
“Sure do. This way.” And Peterson pointed to the path the T-Rex had cleared through the jungle.
“You have to be kidding me?” Tomko shrugged.
“Nope.”
Tomko shook his head. A tough guy, he’d go ahead with the mission without complaint, but he seemed leery about another encounter with the massive creature.
Peterson wondered how many more prowled the tiny island. “Let’s move out.”
Everyone reloaded, then they followed the blood-stained trail heading further inland. Tomko took point again. All the marines were tense, on edge, readying themselves for an encounter with man or beast. The path taken by the Tyrannosaurus Rex led directly toward the garrison, and Peterson feared they’d confront it again.
Nineteen
Staff Sergeant Wilson grabbed a stick and traced an outline of the island in the dirt. He marked off an area showing the big lagoon. “We’re here,” he said, pointing.
The crude map looked similar to the one Lieutenant Colonel Carson had used to explain the mission before they left their training camp at Jacques Farm. Dawson had always pictured the island as a tiny strip of land. Something a marine could traverse in an hour. But it seemed larger in real life and the atoll was overgrown with dense foliage. Raiders would have a rough go of it heading into the interior, trudging through the heavy vegetation.
“We’ve got a change of plans.” Wilson grinned.
“Change one thousand,” Mudhole added, referring to the enlisted marine phase used to mock the brass and their ever-changing orders.
“Exactly.” Staff Sergeant Wilson laughed. Then he traced a smaller lagoon at the other end of the island. A recent downpour had settled into a drizzle.
Dawson recognized it as the landing zone for another squad in the initial plans.
“Seems a boat or two might not have gotten word that we were converging on one beach.” Wilson tilted his helmet back. “They’re out there and have already engaged the enemy. Shooting was pretty heavy a moment ago.”
“How do you know it’s the enemy?” Bishop pressed.
“All that shooting.” Wilson shrugged.
“Yeah. But that didn’t sound like Jap gunfire.”
Wilson looked at Bishop quizzically, as though he hadn’t picked up on it.
“Sounded like our firearms. And ours only.”
Dawson considered the comment. They had spent so much time training at Jacques Farm that he could tell when a Thompson was being fired compared to a Browning. Yet, the fusillade of gunfire had erupted so suddenly that he couldn’t discern exactly what he’d heard. But he suspected that Bishop was right. The kid seemed pretty sure.
“What could they be targeting with so much firepower?” said Wilson.
“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Bishop frowned. “The freaking wildlife around here.”
“That was a lot of shooting. But you’d expect the garrison to be heading this way.”
“Our fire fight with the creatures was quite heavy,” Dawson offered.
Wilson seemed to consider the comment. “Suppose you’re right. But it doesn’t make me feel any better.” He turned to the sketch on the ground when another burst of gunfire broke out. Only this time it seemed a lot closer.
“What the hell is that?” Mudhole shouldered his weapon.
“Relax.” Wilson motioned for him to rejoin the group. The firing died off quickly.
“The other landing party couldn’t have moved that fast inland.” Bishop bit on his cigarette. “All the heavy machinegun fire came from the eastern part of the island. That shooting just now was a lot closer to us.”
Staff Sergeant Wilson stood up. He looked them all over. “Those shots came from the center of the island. Our commanding officer has concerns about our ability to get past the breakers when we retreat. And he is worried about the aerial assault…”
“And?” Bishop pressed.
“He dispatched two privates to deliver a note to the other side.”
“A note?”
“A message that we would surrender.”
“What the heck?” Bishop stammered and couldn’t say any more.
Reaching into his shirt pocket, Bishop pulled out a chrome lighter and flicked the flint-wheel. He lit the cigarette in his mouth and took a long drag. The end burned an amber glow in the dark night, and the smoke wafted through the jungle with a redolent scent, masking the pungent stench of decaying vegetation and fungus.
“Listen, not all the Staff NCOs are on board with it. But I doubt it matters anyway.”
“Why not?” said Dawson.
“We’ve got our orders to move into the interior on the seek and destroy mission. Ain’t very likely that we’ll get word of a surrender once we move out. And besides…”
“What?” Bishop snapped.
“And besides… those boys with the note are likely dead by now.”
Wilson’s comments slipped over Dawson like a suffocating blanket. He could hardly breathe and inhaled deeply to catch his wind. Despite the carnage he’d witnessed on the beach, the thought of moving inland and getting killed just walking along unsettled him.
Everyone seemed taken aback by the comment. Bishop’s eyes narrowed behind the orange ashes at the nub of his cigarette butt. “Maybe the Japs didn’t get them.”
Dawson thought about it. “No. Those were Sanpachi rifles we heard.”
“Yeah. So, either the enemy shot at them, or something ambushed the enemy.”
Something ambushed the enemy, Dawson thought. For some reason, he’d only considered the dinosaurs attacking the Raiders, as if the native inhabitants and the Imperial Army would be spared from the creatures. After all, they lived on the atoll with them. But now he understood the commotion on the beach had likely upset a delicate balance in the tropical ecosystem. Everyone on the island was potential prey to the creatures. He wondered how many lingered in the jungle, and how big they grew.