The dinosaur pounced. It came at Dawson hard and fast, a bull rush.
He advanced into the fight, stepping forward, then planting his feet, securing the butt of the rifle into his good thigh. Dawson pointed the bayonet low.
It charged headlong into him. The blade pierced the creature’s abdomen, causing the Raptor to yowl in pain. Still, the beast’s momentum kept it coming at Dawson, and the bayonet sunk deeper into the dinosaur’s viscera. Blood gushed from the wound, but the carnage only served to fuel the creature’s ire.
Force from the Raptor’s assault knocked Dawson to the ground. Grasping his weapon tightly, the bayonet and rifle barrel pierced the creature’s gut, skewering him, until the blade punched through its backside.
An intense caterwauling followed the act, while the dinosaur squirmed on the apparatus impaling its bowels. It desperately fought to reach Dawson and tear out his throat.
Blood spewed from the creature’s abdomen. The twisting and turning only served to cause the weapon to entangle its entrails and cleave his midsection further. It wailed and snapped in pain and fury.
Soon, the beast wormed down the rifle, and its guts spilled warm innards and blood over Dawson’s hands. The Raptor snapped at his neck, which remained slightly out of the reach of its deadly maw.
The sickle-shaped claw motored around, striking the dirt, ripping his utilities, and cleaving his thigh open. Dawson couldn’t fend the beast off much longer.
He closed his eyes and thought of Mary.
A sudden slacking of pressure caused him to open them again.
The creature reared back to gain momentum for another strike. Dawson wriggled his rifle loose and pressed the barrel against a solid object within the dinosaur’s innards. He pulled the trigger. A round exploded into the Raptor’s spine. It screeched in agony.
Bone fragments, gristle, and meat blew out the back of the predator.
Arching its back, the creature froze, then lost control over its lower muscular functions, and teetered forward, collapsing on top of Dawson.
The upper torso writhed as the creature wailed and screeched in pain and confusion. Its jaws snapped open and shut, but the head lay pressed into the ground. And then, the hulking beast rolled off him.
Dawson looked up and found Bishop leaning over him. The jarhead grinned and reached out with a hand. Assisting him to his feet with one strong tug, Bishop laughed. “That was something else. Expected you were going to be its next meal.”
“You could have stepped up and helped out.”
“Happened too fast.” Bishop spoke in his matter-of-fact tone.
“Well, a semblance of reinforcement would have been nice.” Dawson adjusted his gear behind the scout car. “Got to move ahead with the plan, now.”
“Count me in.” Then Bishop raised the Browning and unloaded into the thatch building. Rounds tore into the garrison, riddling enemy soldiers, who’d taken up position at a nearby window. Brass cartridges spit from the ejection port. Muscles in his face vibrated along with the rhythmic bursts of the weapon.
An enemy soldier fell out the window opening, with his chest ripped apart from the high caliber bullets. Others inside wailed in pain. Even the ground seemed to shake under Dawson’s feet as the crazed marine tore the place to shreds.
Soldiers crawled out from under the scout car, and Dawson shot them. Their eyes glazed over in an eerie state of death. Up close, the fighting unnerved him for a moment. The dead looked so real. He couldn’t bring himself to loathe such young men, sent to their ends without having any choice in the matter.
The chaotic gunfire ceased, as Bishop powered down.
A tremor carried across the ground, and Dawson knew the vibrations hadn’t come from Bishop’s attack. Something large was stalking its way towards the commotion.
He sighted his rifle at the soldiers erecting mortars. The Japanese foot soldier he’d encountered before led the infantrymen in the task. Every one of them worked frantically, assisting him. And he seemed to be adjusting the mortars, as though increasing the line of trajectory.
The young enlisted man’s eyes were opened wide. He seemed fixated on something in the distance. Dawson turned to see what had the Japanese soldier terrified.
Glancing over the hood of the scout car, he observed the American offensive line. They were dug in behind fallen trees, stumps, and had dug fighting holes. Most were armed with rifles, sharpshooting the enemy. A few held Browning automatic rifles, and still others wielded Thompson submachine guns.
Marines with the heavier firepower riddled the Japanese positions. Some were careless about their shooting. Bullets dinged off the scout car, even though they had to know marines were fighting behind enemy lines. Scavenger dinosaurs had spread over the battlefield, taking bites of soldiers and marines, and kicking up a commotion. Defending against them involved kicking, punching, knife thrusts, and occasional shots. The latter method sent wild rounds through the battle zone.
Another vibration, and the ground trembled again. Beyond the Americans something massive lurched their way, and it was closing in on the battle scene. It wasn’t in view yet, which caused Dawson to consider what the Japanese soldier had been staring at earlier. He looked around and caught a glimpse of a large dinosaur standing among a thicket of trees.
The massive creature stood motionless, observing the commotion. It was ginormous and weighed at least 8 tons, and it spanned 55 feet from snout to the tip of its tail. The muzzle was long and narrow, like a crocodile. Sharp and jagged teeth protruded from its lips. A large fin rose from its back, resembling an old-fashioned hand-fan. Its feet crimped the earth with large claws, but the space between the talons was webbed like a duck or a river otter.
Dawson figured the dinosaur was a Spinosaurus, a meat eater that lived on land and in the water. Remains of one had recently been found in North Africa and featured in Life Magazine. The Spinosaurus must live in a boggy area near a lagoon.
It seemed reluctant to press into the fray, as though it didn’t usually venture far into the interior of the atoll for prey. The creature’s nostrils wrinkled, likely picking up the scent of blood from the Raptors mauling soldiers and tearing them to bits. At some point, the dinosaur meant to charge into the battlefront and feast upon the combatants. Most of them didn’t even know the creature lingered in the shadows.
Shouldering his rifle, Dawson meant to shoot at the beast and put things into motion, thinking his comrades were better off learning about the creature before it could surprise them. Raiders were positioned closer to the Spinosaurus, so they’d be its first victims.
Just as Dawson was about to squeeze the trigger, a few trees snapped, and the colossal T-Rex stepped into the mix. Flames continued to waft from its hide in a conflagration of burning fuel and charred meat. It carped in pain and misery, then the predator sized up the scene, lowered its head and let loose a ferocious roar.
An abrupt silence marked its entrance. The adversaries stopped firing at each other, and the Raptors paused from ransacking corpses, and glanced up at the newcomer. Even the scavenger dinosaurs halted their pillaging to observe the king of the island.
The Tyrannosaurus looked them over, then a few Procompsognathus dinosaurs moved about. Stomping a foot, the T-Rex let out another fierce roar.
Everyone became still and waited, as if letting the monster choose its prey. And they all hoped it would be someone else. The dinosaurs instinctively froze, waiting to flee after the T-Rex set upon another. Soldiers and marines remained idle, expecting a human to be the first target. A calm before the storm, calamity would erupt as soon as it made its move.