He took a deep breath and sighed with the moment of safety. It wouldn’t last, though.
Twenty-Six
Dawson slung his rifle over a shoulder. Watching the Japanese soldiers retreat into the jungle and run off down the road, he breathed a sigh of relief. The scout car ripped up clay from the roadway and tore after infantrymen on foot.
A raucous battle scene drifted into silence. Combat boots padding on the muddy lane made the only sound. He glanced at the hole the dinosaur made in the vegetation.
Compys fed on entrails that had snagged on a fallen tree.
Shaking his head in disgust, he turned to face the marines behind him. A similar grotesque scene came into view. Gaggles of Compsognathus and Procompsognathus dinosaurs feasted upon corpses and wounded soldiers. A few Imperial troopers groaned in agony.
Raiders kicked at the scavengers and poked them with bayonets.
The dinosaurs snapped at the marines, scampered from the wounded and the dead, then pounced upon the carcasses in waves as soon as the marines stepped away. Some marines turned back to the fracas, wielding their bayonets, stabbing and cutting into the scroungers. The larger Procompsognathus dinosaurs advanced upon the marines, ready to fight over their spoils.
One jumped on Private Knight and clawed its way up his chest. The dinosaur swiftly advanced to the marine’s neck and latched on. Knight grabbed its head and tried to pull the dinosaur loose, but it held on with a death grip.
Dawson swung his rifle into action. He inhaled and took aim.
Knight twirled around in a death dance, as blood gurgled from puncture wounds in his neck. Churning its hind legs, ragged claws sliced into his abdomen. All the spinning around prevented Dawson from getting a bead on the dinosaur.
Raiders standing behind the victim fell in and out of view.
Dawson finally got a clear shot.
He pulled the trigger.
A bullet dug into the beast. It yowled in pain. Dropping to the ground with a thud, the Procompsognathus squirmed and kicked in the throes of death. A final scratch at the earth, then the creature lay in the mud, lifeless.
Knight dropped to his knees while grabbing his throat with both hands.
Crimson streaks trickled through his fingers as life blood seeped from his body. A gurgle emanated from his throat. Knight gasped.
Then, he wavered and teetered into the mud, disoriented and horror-struck.
Rushing to his side, Dawson crouched beside Knight. He checked the marine’s injured neck. Scraps of flesh were torn away.
An artery was severed open, pulsating blood, gushing from the wound.
Knight’s face turned pale; blood wasn’t getting to his heart.
Without a place to attach a tourniquet, the marine would bleed to death. Dawson couldn’t tie off the open artery without choking Knight. And he couldn’t determine any other means to help, except to apply a gauze and compress the wound to help diminish blood loss.
“Corpsman!” Dawson scanned for a Navy medic.
A hand clasped his shoulder. “There’s nothing left you can do.”
“We need to try.” Dawson shook his head.
“He’s gone, son.”
Dawson looked up. Staff Sergeant Wilson had a dire expression.
Gurgling emitted from Knight’s throat and mouth.
“Hang on. Corpsman!” Dawson pressed the wound tightly.
The young marine coughed, then he belched up blood. A copper scent wafted from Knight and mixed with pungent smells from the jungle, moisture and decaying vegetation. Odors of death whisked into Dawson’s head as poignant and distinct as stepping onto a beach at low tide or walking past a swamp while hunting in the New Hampshire woods.
An ashen hue replaced the pallor of Knight’s skin. He lay still and didn’t take another breath. Knight passed, almost peacefully. Slipping calmly into the midst of death, the young marine never uttered his final words.
“Go ahead,” Wilson encouraged, as though reading Dawson’s mind.
“Knight didn’t ask me to do anything, though.” Dawson shook his head. “Feels like an intrusion.”
“He didn’t have to say it. You’re looking out for him.”
Dawson nodded, understanding.
“Go ahead.”
“Sure.”
Reaching into Knight’s breast pocket, he fished out a letter. The paper was folded over and fit snug between the tin holding his own letter and the one he’d already taken off Frank. He stood up. “All set.”
“You did great work earlier. Using that beast as cover was ingenious.”
Dawson nodded, appreciating the comment.
“Just let me know in advance before you pull a stunt like that… we can’t have everyone running off in their own direction.”
“Sorry. The thought came to mind and I acted without orders.”
“You saved our ass. I’m not chewing your butt over it. Hell, I expect to put you in for a promotion.” Wilson tilted his helmet back considering his next comment. “Let’s divide the troops into two prongs. One will go after the fuel dumps and the other will take out the garrison and docks.”
“Understood.” Dawson waited for the detailed instructions.
Staff Sergeant Wilson glanced him over.
“Which contingency do you want me to join?”
Wilson shook his head and grinned. “You’re not getting my drift, son. I’ll lead one force inward and you’re going to lead the other.”
Dawson gulped for breath. “Yes, Staff Sergeant.”
“Let’s plan to break this off, so I take two thirds of the men.” Wilson placed his hands on his hips. “You get the rest and head for the fuel dumps. We’ll go after the garrison and docks and any bridges we come across.”
“My fire team is down to me and Bishop.”
“You take the team we got from Staff Sergeant Kane… Simmons and them.”
“Got it.”
“Figure the fuel dumps is a straight-forward seek and destroy mission, so you’re better suited to lead that one.” Wilson paused and contemplated his next statement.
“What?”
“The fuel dumps might be more heavily defended, though.”
A vision of Japanese troops, dug into the earth and blasting away with Lewis guns, came to mind. Dawson pictured marines getting riddled by enemy gunfire.
“Start thinking about losing a battle before it begins, and you’ve pretty much given the enemy an upper hand.” Wilson flashed a kind grin. “From what I saw at the beach with the Boys anti-tank gun and the stunt you pulled here, you’ll do just fine.”
“Guess we should get moving.” Dawson started to wipe down his rifle.
“Let’s move out!” Wilson called to the troops.
Raiders gathered their equipment and fell into two columns without further instruction. A number of them were marked for Dawson’s contingency. He raised a hand. “Bishop and Simmons’s fire team, come with me.”
They glanced at him, askance. Simmons began to question the direction.
“Shut your piehole.” Wilson shook his head. “You’re going with Dawson. And do exactly what he says. He’s in charge.”
“Yes, Staff Sergeant.” Simmons waved to his team.
Dawson watched the larger force march down the muddy lane. Glancing at the road and looking towards the swath cut through the jungle, he considered the options. The lane headed in a northeasterly direction, but the fuel dumps were on the opposite side of the road towards the north. A path through the bush was the most direct route.
“You’re not thinking of taking us through there?” Bishop pointed at the broken limbs.
Dawson nodded. “Likely the fastest way to the fuel dumps.”
“What about those creatures? Likely to be more of them in there.”