A/N: My apologies for my tardiness in posting the next chapter. Real Life just got in the way again. I will still post the next chapter over the weekend, so at least the bright side is that you won't have to wait as long to find out what happens next. Thanks for understanding.
SURVIVIAL OF THE FITTEST
By Susan Zell
Disclaimers: See Chapter One
CHAPTER FOUR
"A Deadly March"
Five of the beasts flushed from the thinning grass. It was only Veronica's sharp eyes that spotted the assault once again.
Roxton and Malone's rifles fired simultaneously and two of the sabertooths dropped. The last three charged on. Both men pulled their bolts back almost in unison and took aim again. Veronica knew that there was no way for them to stop the third. It was up to her. As the two men fired again, she let her knife fly. She aimed for the open chest, afraid to try for a head shot with so small a weapon. The bone might deflect it. All three beasts tumbled to the ground. Two stayed down, but the third scrambled to its feet and came at them again, desperate and maddened with pain and hunger, Veronica's dagger embedded hilt deep in its chest.
It leaped into their midst, claws spread wide. It slashed at Veronica and she fell backward.
"Veronica!"
Malone pulled his own knife from the sheath at his side and threw himself at the back of the beast to distract it and drive it away from the huntress. He drove the knife the full six inches into the hindquarters. It howled and spun back toward its new opponent.
Roxton swung round with his rifle, taking aim, but Malone was in Roxton's line of fire, and for an instant, the hunter hesitated in his shot, his mind casting back to another time, another face.
William.
"Damn it, Malone!" he shouted hoarsely. He jerked the rifle up, knowing the heavy caliber bullet would crash through the beast's flesh and find a home in Malone as well.
Just like before.
Malone just managed to scramble aside as the cat snapped at him with its own dagger like canines. It was not something the great beasts are wont to do since they risk striking bone and breaking their fearsome teeth, but in its crazed state it was willing to try anything. It missed but the slashing forepaw caught the front of Malone's shirt and shredded it.
"Get back, Malone!" cried Roxton as he stepped to the beast's side and fired his revolver, all six rounds into the heart. The booming echo of his Webley rang across the valley. The sabertooth shuddered and fell just as it was lunging one last time for the young reporter. Its great head flopped to the ground, its massive canines, each seventeen cm long drove into the dirt on either side of his booted foot.
Veronica scrambled to assist him while Roxton quickly reloaded and spun around to check for more attackers. To his great relief, there was none. Veronica struggled to pull up the sabertooth's massive head and Malone slid his aching foot free.
"You all right?" Roxton queried, his heart drilling against his chest.
An emotion Malone had rarely seen flitted across the hunter's face. "Just bruised, like the rest of us." he replied. Roxton merely nodded and turned away again, facing the grass. It was odd to see Roxton waste so many bullets like that. It was almost as if it had been an act of fear. He hadn't seen Roxton react so dramatically since that time on river with the monkeys before they arrived at the base of the plateau.
Veronica fingered aside the remains of Malone's shirt. "That was close." Her blue eyes held a great deal of worry.
Malone's breath caught a little as her fingers slid over his chest looking for wounds. His fair skin colored slightly. "I'm fine. Missed me by a mile," he jested, anxious to relieve her anxiety. Still, it thrilled him to see that emotion present for him. She hadn't reacted so when Roxton almost fell beneath the sabertooth.
She pulled his shirt back and noticed the faint line of scratches that were just now beginning to ooze a darker red. "Sure," she said quietly. But the wounds were far from serious and for that she was elated. Once again, the young reporter had escaped death by a hair's breadth.
"Let's get moving, people," Roxton instructed sharply. "We may not yet be in the clear."
Malone groaned as Veronica helped him to his feet. He experimentally tested his weight on the ankle and then nodded. "It smarts but it's functional."
"Good to hear."
Then they all gathered their weapons and marched on warily to the hillside. Long minutes went by, three pairs of eyes searching desperately for any sign of the cats hunting them. The wind picked up slightly and made it more difficult to discern something stalking through the tall grass. Every wave of the wheat-like stems signaled death but nothing leapt out at them from the concealing grasses. Thirty minutes went by and the finally the hillside was theirs.
They stopped and regrouped, checking ammo and their damage. Roxton and Malone were sore and bruised but thankfully still mobile; ammo was rapidly dwindling. Each waited with their hearts drilling into their chests but the grass yielded no large hungry cats.
"Maybe they gave up," Malone offered.
Neither Roxton nor Veronica commented. The hunter merely bobbed his head toward the jungle. "It's best to keep moving. The jungle will afford us some cover and split their attacks."
"You think they'll follow us?" Malone's expression held only fear.
"I think we're a meal."
"With any luck they'll eat their dead and be satisfied," Veronica added hopefully. "At this stage, they won't be picky."
The ear-shattering roar of a T-Rex split the air close by.
"Unless they have competition." There was now dismay in her tone.
"Those dead cats will be nothing but an appetizer for the likes of him," Malone exclaimed.
The great shadow of the massive reptile spread across the plain as it stepped out of the jungle, sniffing the air like a dog. The small high-pitched cries of distant raptors could be heard as well, while the sky filled with the circling shapes of pterodactyls. The predators had learned to equate the sound of gunfire with a meal. The bloody carcasses already attracted the carnivores and scavengers like ants to a picnic. Nothing was ever wasted on the plateau where the ratio of hunter to meal was beyond measure.
The bulbous head of the king of dinosaurs swiveled about, focusing in on the smell of blood littering the area. With quick bold steps it entered onto the plain and beelined for the first kill. The tremors of its heavy steps could be felt even to the explorers who were fairly distant.
"Great," bemoaned Malone. "There goes our one shot of getting away from the cats. Now they'll still be hungry."
Malone tore his gaze away from the sight of the great dinosaur ripping the carcass of a sabertooth in half, one foot planted on its body while the massive jaw took hold and pulled. It swallowed the hunk of flesh in one swallow and then bent down for the rest.
The reporter's grimace stayed locked in position as he moved closer to the other two and away from the grisly scene. Even from this distance it was grotesque. This place was inundated with such savagery, and even after all this time trapped in its midst, it was no easier to accept.
Roxton stepped towards the distant shadows of the jungle, eager to be away. "Let's move. The farther we are away from here the better. It's over a four hour hike back to the camp.
But Veronica stayed him. "Maybe we should stay here. You're bleeding badly."
"We need to use the T-Rex's presence to get through now. The cats could be scattered. This is our best chance."
"I disagree. Cats aren't easily discouraged, even by a T-Rex. You said it yourself they're starving. They won't be going anywhere. Now that they've been robbed of their dead, they'll be thinking of what else they lost. Mainly us." She gestured bluntly to the blood dripping down his boot and soaking into the ground.
Roxton grimaced in annoyance. There was no denying the logic in her words. But he also knew they could be losing their one opportunity to escape on the chance that perhaps the sabertooths were indeed in a state of confusion. Those few hours could mean they could find a better place from which to protect themselves.
"This is not the best defensible area. We're too open here, even with the hill behind us. We're tired and wounded and we will have a hard time guarding three flanks all night with only a wall at our backs. None of us will be able to sleep."
"We'll manage."
"Maybe there is a cave somewhere," offered Malone. "We haven't looked." He was torn between the wisdom in both Veronica and Roxton's words, but he was also tired and aching. He was better at defending than fighting while on the move, even when he was at his best, which he wasn't at the moment.
"We won't have the time to look," Roxton pointed out heatedly. They were wasting valuable time. The T-Rex would finish its meal anytime now and depart, allowing the big cats to regroup. "If we could make the trees..."
"They're too far. We would never reach them. Besides sabertooths climb trees easily. We'll be fighting them off the entire time."
"You don't think we will tomorrow?" Roxton's frustration was making his words curt and sharp.
"Yes, but at least we'll be fresh and maybe stand a chance against them," Veronica retorted.
Malone stepped in between them. "We need to make a decision now. One way or the other."
Roxton sighed and relented. He'd bow to Veronica's will on this. This was her home. She knew it best. Besides, his leg was really beginning to ache. Shifting from leg to leg was quickly becoming problematic. "Let's start looking for that cave of Malone's."
Veronica's apprehensive expression eased, grateful that she didn't have to argue anymore. It was not something she was used to. When she had invited the explorers into her home, she had had to learn quickly how to work within a group. It was still an adjustment, especially with those whose wills were as strong as Roxton's. She nodded at the hunter. He was in terrible pain and it was finally visible on his face. Exhaustion was taking its toll on them all. They needed shelter and fast. She tugged off her knife belt and tied it above his wound. She would not be putting away her weapon for quite a while anyway. It was more important to staunch the flow of blood. Roxton gave a sharp gasp at the pain it caused but he didn't complain. A tourniquet was definitely needed.
During which orders fell from Veronica's lips as if she was a general on a battlefield. "Malone, you go left. I'll go right. Scan the hill. Look for indentations and shadows. Even just a small corner cliff will give us protected flanks."
Roxton made a motion to object. He was the better candidate than Malone for seeking out a good defendable position. But Veronica stopped him with a look. His leg wouldn't allow him to cover the necessary ground. He bowed his head. "I'll stay here. Look for cats," he relented.
She smiled thinly at him. That was two fights he had conceded. He must really be hurting. Either that or he trusted her judgment implicitly. Both were viable. Though one was more worrisome than the other. "We'll hurry."
Roxton nodded and then the two young people were off to search. Malone was still limping slightly but at least the reporter was more mobile than him at the moment.
He turned his back to the hill and scanned the grassy edge. It had ended twenty feet from the hill allowing him a clear view. The cats had lost their element of surprise for the moment. They may be disoriented by their failure and the arrival of their competition, but it did not mean that they would not try again. Right now they were regrouping and their pitifully empty bellies were gnawing at them, just as Roxton's was currently reminding him that a full grown man could live for only so long on dried nuts and berries.
The sabertooths would lurk for a time around the blood smears of their fallen brethren, but eventually they would pick up his blood trail and find them at the hill.
It was practically dusk now. There was no way to signal the others from the top of the hill. That would have to wait until tomorrow. Though he dreaded bringing Challenger, Summerlee and Marguerite into this affair. He did not want to risk their lives as well for only three extra guns, which were all low on ammunition already.
Under normal circumstances he would not be so worried about sabertooths. They were dangerous but no more so than their lion cousins and he had lived with them for years in Africa, as well as tigers in Asia and jaguars in South America. But this drought had changed the ecological balance of the plateau. It had changed the normal habits of all the game in the area. Previous knowledge meant little all of a sudden as these bizarre creatures mutated once again. They were all on a new learning curve.
Which is why he had consented to Veronica's wisdom. She alone knew these prehistoric animals. With the amount of time spent on the plateau, she must have experienced a drought before and seen firsthand how it altered the normal behaviors of its denizens, far faster perhaps than it would the denizens of the natural world off the plateau. Roxton had to admit he was a novice here.
He was never a man who was foolish enough to believe that he had all the answers. Bombastic he was not. He had known men like that. Men who could rationalize anything, even tragedy and twist it into a mockery. Fingers turned bloodless as his grip on his rifle tightened. Anger and memories flooded him.
Only one man made his blood boil like it was now. Roxton knew his mind had dredged him up because of Malone stepping in front of his shot out on the plain. Instantly he had been transported to the past. Sometimes it was just a simple thing that flung him back and other times, like today hit him with the force of a charging elephant. Would he never be free of this pain? Years had passed and yet it was always as fresh as the day William had died and Pearson Rice had stood and crowed.
Roxton felt only shame that he had once admired the man and wanted to be like him. Now that memory only kept him humble and out of the spotlight. He was happier here were none knew or even cared about his past. Surely most of the explorers had heard the tale and yet not one had ever brought it up. And for that he was grateful.
A snap of twigs brought his attention round and his gun barrel back up where it had slipped to the ground due to his exhaustion and wandering thoughts. He cursed his lax while glassy eyes studied the area before him, his ears straining for any hint of an attacker in the darkening surroundings.
But there was nothing. He calmed his breathing and unclenched his muscles that all too willingly complied. There was a tremble in his arms that shouldn't be there. His thigh throbbed with an ache that he felt clear through to the bone. The tourniquet was so tight he could feel the ache throb in time with his heartbeat.
Lord, he wanted to sit down and rest. Already Veronica's words were becoming accurate. He doubted he would have gotten far, weakened as he was. They would have had to stop on open ground with no protection. He cursed his arrogance. His bullheadedness would have gotten them all killed. It was an amateur's mistake and it angered and shamed him.
Veronica suddenly appeared beside him and he started, so silent was her approach. She grabbed his arm to steady him as he reared back, putting weight on his injured leg and then bobbling alarmingly. Bless her she said nothing save one statement.
"We found a place. This way."
Roxton could only nod and follow her. They found Malone waiting for them near a vertical cliff wall. It was a U-shape, which afforded them protection on three sides. The walls were high enough and long enough to form a nice niche. Malone or Veronica must have had to circumvent the entire hill in order to meet up as they had. How long had he been standing there, lost in thought? It was a sure sign that he was losing too much blood. Time and reality were becoming blurred entities.
Malone was already hacking large thorn bushes complete with four inch barbs to form a zareba around the opening of the niche. The improvised stockade would help form a barrier to distract and dissuade anything from coming too close without their knowledge. It was one of the first things Roxton had taught Malone how to make once they left civilizations. The hunter had made many of them in Africa. That along with a fire burning brightly in the middle would afford them a nice shelter for the night.
"Well done," he offered to Malone and Veronica.
"Sit here." She gestured to a place padded with dry leaves against the cliff wall. "Rest. We'll finish the barrier." Turning to go, she paused and looked back with worry written on her face. "Loosen the tourniquet for a few minutes. I'll tie it back tight when I return."
Roxton smiled weakly at her and complied. Veronica had saved their lives once again. He would not doubt her judgment again. With bloodied hands and unruly fingers he untied the tourniquet but couldn't stop the gasp of pain as blood rushed into veins that had held but a trickle before. Blood gushed from his wound.
His hand went to staunch it but it wasn't stopped so easily. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he waded it up and stuffed it in the wound. Breathing harshly and wiping the cold sweat from his flushed face with his sleeve, he composed himself. He still wasn't sure what he had collided with, but it was time to take a look. Ripping his pants open, and removing the already sodden handkerchief, he spied two long rips in his flesh, both about three inches in length. It appeared that the dying beast had managed to hook him with its claws before expiring. What unlucky bastards, they both were, Roxton thought solemnly. It was clear that the wounds would need stitches, if not cauterizing before the bleeding would stop.
He wasn't looking forward to that. Thankfully, Arthur Summerlee had showed them most of what he knew. And Veronica had already garnered some at the hands of the Zanga and a dozen other natives.
Summerlee was a gentle soul whose knowledge of botany and medicinal plants had greatly upped their survival rate. Roxton was thankful for his presence every day they lived on this plateau. He didn't know what they would have done without him. His insistence that they concentrate on medicinal things in addition to Challenger's experiments and Marguerite's fortune hunting was the very reason they all stood here today. He was as focused on the group's survival as Roxton was and that made them kindred spirits.
He could imagine the old man's annoyed frown as he noted what a mess the hunter had gotten them all into this time.
"I could use your help advice right now, my friend," Roxton whispered.
Tbc