And the comment registered with Peterson. The dinosaur lingered in the shadows, trying not to be detected, but lying in wait, as if seeking the opportune moment to pounce. A low forehead and long jawline ended with an upturned snout. Its greenish hide was covered in horizontal black stripes. Camouflaged in the jungle, it sized them up for a kill.
“Everyone stay put,” Peterson commanded.
“I see it now.” Goode took another step closer.
“Hold on—”
As the words slipped from his mouth, all hell broke loose. Someone screeched from behind. Rotating towards the commotion, Peterson realized they were being stalked by another dinosaur.
Private Hall stood at the end of the line with a Velociraptor latched on his right arm.
The predator churned its legs into the stomach of the marine, and a massive sickle-shaped claw, attached to each foot, ripped into his viscera, spilling his guts onto the soggy ground. Steam drifted from the organs as he screamed in agony.
Hall’s rifle discharged and caused the dinosaur to pause. It glanced around in confusion.
A moment was all Private Elliot needed to spin around and train his 7.62 millimeter Browning Automatic Rifle on the carnivore. Hall’s knees buckled, and he dropped to the deck. Letting rip with the Browning, rounds dug into the Raptor. It wailed and writhed.
The Velociraptor released its prey and alighted to the saturated pathway.
Staggering to keep balance, the dinosaur lurched towards Elliot, as blood oozed from the bullet holes in its hide.
Another wail of pain echoed from Peterson’s right; a third Raptor was on Goode.
They hunt in packs, Peterson concluded. His realization came too late.
Rapid footsteps approached from behind him. Spinning, he came around just in time to face the Velociraptor from the bush, running headlong into him.
Peterson was knocked to the deck.
The meat eater sprung on him. Jaws snapping and devilish eyes, the threat lay at the end of its feet. A claw dug into his thigh. Peterson raised his pistol and fired three times. Bullets penetrated the Raptor’s fleshy neck. It reeled back and yowled in pain.
Crimson streaks ran down its neck. The dinosaur hissed and flailed about, trying desperately to shake off the pain. It coughed, unable to breathe.
He sat forward with the Colt .45 gripped tightly in both hands. Contracting his abdominal muscles to steady himself, Peterson squeezed off two more rounds. One struck the Raptor in the chest, and the other whizzed by its head, tearing into the leafy jungle.
The Velociraptor scraped the ground with its left claw. It snorted.
Approaching the prostrate marine, the beast meant to hop on his belly and tear him open. It coughed and breathed in deeply, taking in air. Eyes blinking in a frenzy, the Raptor made its move. The creature leapt and jutted its head forward, so it could bite into Peterson’s neck when it landed, and it churned its rear claws, planning to eviscerate his stomach.
Volleys of gunfire knocked the dinosaur back, as marines unloaded and advanced upon the predator. They closed on the Raptor and blasted away with automatic weapons and high-powered rifles. Bullets drilled the Velociraptor’s hide.
Rearing its head back, the dinosaur stepped away from the supine marine. Spent casings spewed from the machineguns and danced on the ground around the lieutenant. The cacophony of gunfire deafened him. He couldn’t discern the situation and what had transpired from the multiple prong attack the Raptors had employed on the unsuspecting unit.
A moment later, the Velociraptor dropped in its tracks. Mud splattered Peterson.
He maneuvered to a kneeling position with one leg on the ground, and he scanned the area for other threats. Pistol trained along his line of vision, a grisly scene came into view.
Private Hall lay on the deck disemboweled, eyes frozen in death, locked in fright. Rain poured over the carcass, a dismal reprieve to its mutilation. Carnivores and scavengers would eventually pick the bones clean.
Scanning to the right, he registered the next casualty. Private Frist Class Goode was strewn on the ground with a large portion of his neck severed from his body. A scrap of meat lay a few feet away from him. The rest of the booty had been gobbled down or taken by the victor. Peterson imaged a Velociraptor prancing off into the bush with a prize latched in its jaws.
He’d wondered why so much firepower had been laid down on his behalf when the assault came from three sides. Even as the Raiders had blasted away at the dinosaur, Peterson had wondered if he was getting special attention because of his rank.
“What scared this one off?” Peterson pointed toward Goode.
“He shot the blasted thing’s privates off.” Davidson indicated to Tomko.
A trail of blood glistened in the rain, leading from Goode into the jungle. The creature fled because it had a serious injury. Guess it didn’t sashay away, Peterson thought.
“And this one?” Peterson shook his pistol at Hall’s guts.
Everyone shrugged, unsure. Confusion during the firefight left some questions. The attack had unfolded quickly. Hall was the first to get it, but everyone had turned when Goode screamed. Then, a dinosaur came after Peterson, turning his attention away from everyone else. When Tomko inflicted a serious wound into the Raptor on top of Goode, the unit instinctively began firing at the one going after Peterson. So, what made this one flee?
Peterson walked over to Hall and crouched to inspect the situation.
“What does it matter?” Private First Class James stepped beside him.
“Something made this one run off. Would help to know what makes them vulnerable.”
“Maybe it was just Elliot laying down some lead at close range?”
Peterson looked up at Elliot. “And?”
Elliot shook his head. “Don’t have a clue.”
“What in tarnation happened?”
Elliot shrugged.
“Walk me through it.”
“The creature bolted out of nowhere and jumped on him. He pointed at Hall. I let go with the BAR and riddled the damn thing with high-caliber bullets.” Elliot shook his head, dismayed. “All the shooting seemed to have little effect on the beast. Don’t get me wrong, rounds penetrated its hide, but the creature didn’t have any sign of being taken down.”
“Guess we’re not going to know,” James scoffed.
“Something made it take off,” Peterson snapped. “What did you do when the second one appeared?”
“Kept shooting at the one on him.” He pointed at the open viscera.
“And?” Peterson grew more frustrated.
“The blasted thing up and ran off. I turned my attention to the one on you.”
“What was it doing before it ran away?”
“Nibbling at his guts.”
“Something scared it off,” Peterson concluded. “What could possibly have done that when a fresh kill was at its feet?”
They stood by dumbfounded, ready to move ahead and continue the fight. Raiders were highly trained warriors. Sleuthing around remains wasn’t in their makeup. Peterson was ready to let the issue drop and move on.
Standing up, he felt lightheaded. Vertigo caught him off balance; he staggered.
Peterson caught a few of the men staring at him in awe. “I’ll be all right. Must have bumped my noggin in the fight.”
They didn’t seem convinced. He leaned his head back and started unstrapping his helmet to see if there was a bump under his scalp. Elliot’s eyes widened.
And then a tremor reverberated under the lieutenant’s feet. The Tyrannosaur had circled back due to the fire fight. It’s associating the sound of gunfire with supper, he thought. Peterson knelt and placed a hand on the ground and listened intently.