The animal was vulnerable to attack! And the Gocho’s efforts redoubled at the realization that he just might defeat the monster.
He planted his feet and lunged upright, pulling on the sword while flexing his legs. It released from the hide, and he flew backward onto the ground. The fall knocked the wind out of him. Catching his breath, he prepared himself for another assault.
The beast continued to feed on Harada, the fallen soldier. His corpse was torn into pieces. Bits of flesh, broken bone, and scraps of uniform littered the ground. Detritus of gore and death sent a coppery smell wafting over the fray. The soldier’s blood doused the green vegetation. And then, the remaining infantrymen fired another barrage of rounds at the beast.
It roared and hissed at them, more annoyed than harmed. The closest man stood within pouncing range. A single leap and the beast would devour him.
Gocho scrambled to his feet and ran up the side of the beast. Precariously perched on the creature’s back, he raised the sword and prepared to plunge the blade down into the nape of its neck. Vital nerves and arteries would be severed. But the dinosaur bucked and threw the Gocho to the earth.
“Get back!” He yelled to the troops, rising to his feet.
They moved away as commanded. And the dinosaur eyed them greedily, as though trying to decide which one to eat next. It moved swiftly and charged Matsuda, the heaviest soldier in the squad. A moment later, it had the man on the ground, screaming in misery.
Moving swiftly, the Gocho wasted no time. The creature had its head lowered to the soldier’s viscera, preoccupied. He leapt onto its back.
The creature gave a mild thrash, attempting to kick off the assailant. But it kept at the disemboweled intestines, strung across the grass like bloody sausage links.
Once again, the Gocho sprung onto the dinosaur’s back.
It paused from its feeding craze. A moment was all it took. The Gocho raised the sword and thrusted it downward with all his might. The blade impaled the creature’s neck.
The dinosaur lopped its head upward, wailing in pain. Its eyes bulged. And then, it took a step forward, stumbling on faltering legs.
Wavering, the unsteady gait caused the Gocho to lose his balance.
Another yowl of pain, trickling into a low moan, and then, the dinosaur lost its balance. It careened over, falling to the side. The Gocho saw the large creature dropping fast; it would land directly on top of him. He rolled swiftly, but he remained under the shadow of the massive beast.
The Metriacanthosaurus’s enormous body landed with a heavy thud alongside the Gocho. He breathed a sigh of relief. Then, the dinosaur’s head pitched onto his chest, knocking the wind out of him. He gasped for breath.
Everything appeared surreal, as though he were lying on a soft bed of vegetation, not feeling any pain. And then, he drifted into blackness.
Twenty-Two
Dawson followed the second fire team through the jungle. Firefights had broken out around the island. Shots echoed from every direction. He couldn’t imagine Raiders having encountered the enemy that many times. The creatures are restless, he thought.
The battles on the beachhead and the aerial attack had stirred them. He kept watch for the enemy and creatures alike.
Bishop plodded through the dense jungle, leading them on instinct down into lower terrain. They pushed through palm fronds and thick underbrush, forging their way inland. Dawson felt like they had been marching for hours. And now the command post seemed miles away. Soon, the ground became soggy, as they traversed along the edge of marshland.
A swamp lay in the center of the lowlands. Moonlight cast upon the water. Rain had let up. Still, the marines’ pace slowed from the wet soil. Many grumbled about the conditions, and a few worried that Bishop might lead them straight into the bog.
“Should have kept to the ridge,” said Staff Sergeant Wilson.
Bishop shook his head. “This was the way to go. We’ll hit that road soon enough.”
“How can Bishop be so sure?” Wilson mumbled to nobody in particular.
“Just is.” Mudhole piped in.
A deep groan caught their attention and silenced the marines. Dawson glanced around and didn’t see enemy troops or predators. This didn’t make him at ease. He looked again and understood why he’d missed it the first time. A massive creature stood in the water, docile, eating leaves from a tall tree. Its round back resembled a hillside. Dawson missed it at first because he thought that he’d glimpsed a slope.
The Apatosaurus measured seventy feet long and stood forty feet high. It seemed to eye them but didn’t take a break from munching leaves. “This one’s not a meat eater,” Dawson reassured the others. Some had already pointed their weapons at the dinosaur.
“You sure?” a private muttered.
“Save your ammo.”
“Just eating leaves,” Mudhole added.
“You fellas are going to announce to the Japanese army that we’re on our way.” Wilson griped and shook his head. “Let’s keep the chatter to a minimum.”
“I just didn’t want guys shooting at it needlessly.”
“Not you Dawson. I ain’t getting after you.”
Dawson took a deep breath and trekked onward, sloshing through the mucky lowlands. It reminded him of the long hikes Lieutenant Colonel Carson made them take during training. The time the colonel made them walk into a stream with their new combat boots also came to mind. Now, he was thankful that the training had prepared them for this mission.
Somehow, they skirted around the swamp and began an ascent. An open stretch lay before them, clear of trees. Bishop had found a shortcut to the road. Things were looking better, but they were not alone. A few dinosaurs lingered by the edge of the water.
A Stegosaurus casually drank from the edge of the marsh where water collected, and reeds protruded from the surface. The dinosaur stood twelve feet tall and measured about twenty-five feet long. Armored plates lined its back. The creature stretched its neck and pulled on vegetation near the shore. An herbivore; it didn’t pay them any mind, either.
Near the Stegosaurus, a couple of odd-looking creatures fed on grasses and moss. They were about twenty feet long, from the end of their snouts to the tips of their tails. Both dinosaurs stood only five feet tall, and they were less than five feet wide.
Ankylosaurus, Dawson thought. He noted the spiky backs and club tails.
Remembering his school days, he recalled the creatures being referred to as the Army tank of the dinosaur world. The creatures moved lazily along the edge of the marsh, picking at grasses and reeds. Another herbivorous dinosaur. Dawson figured the creatures wouldn’t pose a threat, unless cornered or attacked by humans.
As the Ankylosaurus closest to them ambled forward to sip water, it sunk both front legs into the bog and something came into view on the ground near its tail. A Raider lay in the dirt, injured or dead.
Dawson signaled to the others and broke towards the prostrate body.
Staff Sergeant Wilson tried to stop him, but Dawson threw caution to the wind and ran hunched over with his rifle at port arms. A sniper could have easily put him down.
Reaching the fallen marine, Dawson found the man’s gut ripped open. Entrails looped along the ground, bitten off at one end. A lower leg had been cleaved from the body. Dawson glanced at the man’s feet. Both were intact.
Another casualty had been mauled, chewed, mutilated, and dragged off. The ground was disturbed, as though creatures had fought for the prize. Why leave this one alone? Dawson looked at the remains of the marine left behind and considered the dilemma. Something was clutched in the marine’s hand. A scrap of paper.