DISCLAIMER – Not mine.
A/N – OK, this chapter gave me a lot of trouble, and thus I got annoyed, and have finally given up on improving it. I could polish it forever, or I could say 'That'll do.' And move on. So I've moved on. Having said that, I hope all my readers, and especially my lovely reviewers, like it.
Sergeant Franklin rushed forward, grabbing Cutter by the scruff of the neck. "What the hell is that?" he demanded.
"It's a dinosaur."
"Don't treat me like an idiot." The sergeant hissed furiously. "Dinosaurs are bloody extinct."
Cutter pushed him back. "Be quiet." he said, glancing over his shoulder.
"Don't tell me to be quiet!"
The Professor fixed him with a stony expression. "The more noise you make, the more likely that thing is to decide we look like a good meal." he snapped.
Connor shot Stephen a worried look. The older man nodded – he was ready to step if it became necessary. In hindsight, he wished they had waited till the Special Forces team had arrived to go after the creature, but with someone in trouble, they had no choice but to act quickly. The two young constables – Lucas and Stephens – were edging towards the car, Stephen noticed. This was well beyond their job description.
"My cousin is out there somewhere, in trouble, and you're lecturing me?" Franklin said, growling with frustration. He shoved Cutter away.
The tension hung thick in the air. Franklin paced, his chest rising and falling as he breathlessly gritted his teeth. The sergeant span round. He flung a punch, catching the side of Cutter's head. The Professor refused to retaliate. Franklin flew at him, carrying them both to the ground. For a while, Cutter was able to hold off the bigger man, ducking a nasty right hook. Another punch landed on the side of his head. Cutter caught Franklin in the stomach. It gave him time to recover before the sergeant landed a punch to his face. Before he could react, the sergeant was dragged away. Cutter watched, surprised, as the constables bundled him into the car.
Stephen held out a hand. "Should we call you Iron Mike now?" he said.
He ignored the younger man, rolling over and struggling to his feet. The world swam for a second. It quickly righted itself. He gingerly touched his lip, finding it swollen, and his nose, which seemed to have survived with just a slight bruise. There was mud all over him – caked onto his trousers, jumper, and into his hair. Cutter brushed irritably at it.
The Professor switched his focus back to the creature. It was standing in the middle of the road, pacing up and down a short stretch of tarmac. If he had been a betting man, he might have said that it was waiting for prey. His gaze drifted to a small, dirty concrete hut, just off the road.
"What's that building?" he asked.
Lucas, who had left his colleagues in the car, shook his head. "Don't know. It hasn't been used in years."
"It's empty?"
"I suppose so." He caught on. A light of hope came into the young man's pale eyes. "Do you think Rachel might be in there?"
"It's possibility – but don't count on it." Cutter warned him. "Stephen, are you ready?"
"Whenever you are."
Rachel stood in the tiny concrete outbuilding, shivering. The air was cold and clammy. One of the inside walls was covered in damp moss, courtesy of a leak in the roof. On the plus side, she thought, at least there are no giant lizards. She bit her lip to keep from crying. It had chased her car down the road. The Fiesta's wheels had skidded on the slick tarmac, sending Rachel on a cross-country joyride. It had rolled to a juddering stop, missing the outbuilding by inches. There was no choice but to make a break for it. She wasn't sure how her belly-crawl across the soft mud had gone unnoticed.
It had been a while since her escape from the Fiesta. Rachel looked around the tiny hut. There was one small wooden chair, and a long-since broken space heater. The young woman checked her watch in the dim light offered by the tiny window over the door. She dragged the chair across the room and stood on it to look outside. Rachel spat on her sleeve. Rubbing at the engrained dirt only seemed to spread it. Some came away, leaving the view slightly less murky. The lizard was nowhere to be seen. She jumped down again, and huddled down in one corner, ignoring the scuffling sounds by her right foot.
A particularly large spider distracted her for a few minutes, as it scuttled up the wall and out through a gap in the roof. Rachel had never been bothered by them. She had been called at all hours of the day and night by her husband to rescue him from "The biggest spider you've ever seen!". For a man who would happily talk a depressed drunk out of suicide, console grieving widows, and advise pregnant teenagers, Robert was a wimp. She smiled fondly – it was what made him human.
A crack from outside made her jump. Rachel leapt to her feet and balanced on the old chair. It creaked ominously, but held. There was little to see out of the tiny window. She could just make out the road, and a looming shape that had to be her giant lizard.
"That can't be what it looks like." She said.
Another crack caught Rachel's attention. She looked further down the road, as far as the tiny window would allow. A grin lit up her face. Two figures were advancing in the road. She couldn't see any guns, but that, she realized, was what had made the sound. Rachel looked up and said a quick prayer. Not bad timing, she thought with a wry smile, but half an hour ago would have been better!