Chapter 30
A Long Night
Guiterrez yawned, and opened his eyes. He was staring up at the metal girders that lined the concrete ceiling of the maintenance shed, glistening with moss and rust. Dull orange light filtered down to meet his gaze, emanating from the old strip lights on the ceiling of the shed, which flickered and emitted a slight buzz, as if a wasp were trapped inside. He felt the hard floor beneath him, and the smell of the jungle wafting in through the open entrance. A light breeze washed over him, and the sounds of the forest around them was loud and active. Hoots and howls from monkeys rang out sharply, followed swiftly by the thrashing of leaves and twigs. Frogs and insects formed an indescribable clashing orchestra in the background, never ceasing for even a moment. From far off, he heard the roar of one of the Tyrannosaurs, but it sounded miles away. Much closer, he could hear the familiar twittering and chattering of the Microceratops, which appeared to have stayed in the periphery of the jungle around the shed. And another sound was mixed in with it; a slight sigh that glided effortlessly on the wind. It was almost like the breathing of a horse, only slightly higher pitched, more reptilian.
He felt a lot better after the sleep; his head was clearer and his feet throbbed less. He found it easier to think clearly, and felt calmer. But his entire body ached. Every muscle felt tight and uncooperative, unwilling to move from their comfortable position on the concrete floor. His lips were chapped, and his stomach was cramping every few seconds, making loud grumbling noises. He was starving.
With a great effort, he rolled over onto his side, and looked around. It was still dark, he couldn't have been asleep for more than a few hours. Through the bars of the shed he could only see inky blackness, a sea of nothing. Suddenly a shadow passed over him, and he saw what had woke him up.
Anderson stood over him, his rifle glinting dully in the light. He looked tired, but oddly pleased; Guiterrez guessed it was to have some company.
"Your watch," said Anderson, taking the rifle from his shoulder. He looked from Guiterrez to the weapon, as if wondering whether to trust him with it.
"That time already?" muttered Guiterrez, grunting as he forced himself into a sitting position.
"'Fraid so. You know how to use one of these?"
Guiterrez looked at the weapon momentarily, and found that the rifle appeared intimidating now that the notion of operating it was in hand. He knew how to use the tranquiliser guns that he used to sedate lizards, and he was fairly sure that they must be similar, but in truth he had never fired a real firearm.
"Erm, no," he said eventually, glancing around at the shed.
Sarah lay next to Malcolm, her body rising and falling steadily with her breathing. Malcolm himself didn't look as if he had improved much. In fact, he looked worse. His face was covered in a film of sweat, his hair matted, and he kept twitching and muttering quietly. Edgar's shapeless silhouette was slumped in one of the corners, snoring mildly.
"Not to worry," Anderson was saying, bringing Guiterrez's attention back to the gun. "I don't think you'll need it, I doubt anything could get through those bars. But just in case, this is an M500A Colt Carbine. Lightweight and accurate. The safety is off. Simple concept; clearly identify your target and squeeze the trigger."
Guiterrez looked at him for a moment, slightly more apprehensive than before. He was worried that he might shoot somebody, or himself.
Anderson simply said, "Point and shoot."
"Ah," said Guiterrez. "Okay, sure."
Hesitantly, he got to his feet unsteadily, his legs screaming in protest, and reached out, feeling the gun in his hands. It was surprisingly light; he had been expecting a lumbering heavy metal contraption. But this felt easy to use, and comfortable. He turned it over gingerly, inspecting the surface of the barrel, looking through the sights and running his fingers over the light mounted on the side.
Anderson seemed to think that he had it handled, as he was sitting down against the wall, his eyes already drooping. Guiterrez was left standing there with the large weapon, feeling slightly awkward at the prospect of having the responsibility of defending their shelter.
"Who has the next watch after me?" he asked Anderson.
Anderson shook his boots off, and sighed as he lay down against the wall. "Sarah does," he said, "wake her up in two hours."
Guiterrez nodded, and walked over to the entrance, and sat down cross legged, staring out through the bars. He felt exposed sitting there in front of the wall of darkness. The light from the shed extended only a foot or two past the gate, where it seemed to hit a solid barrier, and simply gave way to nothingness. He had the distinct impression of hordes of dinosaurs with massive fangs and drooling jaws waiting for him just beyond the light.
"Oh, and don't forget the radio checkpoint," said Anderson sleepily.
"The what?"
"Check in with Tim, Wu and Rodriguez, every half an hour."
"You've been doing that all night?"
"Yeah. Well, I haven't heard anything from them for over an hour. I think they must have all fallen asleep. Maybe you'll have some luck though."
"When do I check in next?"
Anderson opened his eyes, apparently with some difficulty, and glanced at his watch. "About now," he muttered, and then laid his head back down, and closed his eyes.
Guiterrez retrieved his bag from where he had been sleeping, and pulled out his radio, and flicked it on. A hiss of static blew through the shed, echoing off the walls. The power light on the top glowed strongly. Carefully, he laid Anderson's gun on the floor beside him, and pressed the 'talk' button.
"Hello?" he said, and took his finger off the button, and waited calmly as the static hissed again.
He waited for several moments, before trying again. There was no answer; except for the hissing and spitting of static. He tried three more times, to no avail. There was nobody there on the other end. He sighed, and was about to switch it off when there was a sharp bust of static, and then Tim's voice crackled into focus, as loud as if he sat next to him.
"--Yes, Henry, I know very well how to operate--Damn it, Hello?!" Tim's voice sounded agitated, and scared.
"Tim?" he asked, sitting up straight at the urgency that had been conveyed in Tim's voice.
"Martin, damn it, where have you been?"
"I've been trying to contact you for over two minutes..."
"Never mind that," said Tim, cutting him off. "We have a problem."
Guiterrez frowned, and looked over at Anderson. He was sitting bolt upright, looking back at Guiterrez and sitting bolt upright, listening intently, all signs of fatigue gone from his face.
"What kind of problem?" said Guiterrez into the radio.
"Rodriguez. He's gone."
The words rang sharply in Guiterrez's ears, and seemed to echo for a moment inside his head. He glanced at Anderson, who got to his feet, and wiggled his fingers, his hand extended forward, asking for the radio. Guiterrez handed it over without question.
"Say again, Mr. Murphy. Did you say Rodriguez is gone?" said Anderson into the radio.
"Yeah. I woke up, and he's gone. He's not around the tree we're sleeping in. And it's not safe to go down to look for him."
Anderson nodded to himself. "He has his radio. He'll contact us if he's alive."
And then, as if on cue, there was another burst of static, and Rodriguez's frightened voice shouted through the earpiece.
"--Fucking Christ," he cursed. There was the sound of rustling, and banging; it sounded like the radio was being knocked into trees as Rodriguez moved through the jungle And there was another sound; the same sighing that he had heard earlier. It was sharper across the radio, and louder.
"Rodriguez," said Anderson, his voice definitively calm. "Are you alright?"
"Not really. I'm in the middle of the fucking jungle in the dark."
"Are you injured?"
"No," said Rodriguez, panting, "but that might change very soon."
Anderson paused, and then said slowly into the mouthpiece, "What do you mean?"
"There's something out here."
And now Guiterrez could hear it clearly. The sighing was loud, and had a substantial presence. And slightly, ever so slightly, he thought he could hear the ground trembling, as if a shadow of the impact tremors of the Tyrannosaurs.
"What is it?" came Tim's voice.
"I don't know. But its big. And it knows I'm here."
"Tyrannosaur?"
"No, smaller than that. But big enough. I'm in trouble here."
The sounds coming across the radio were now louder, and there was no doubt that Rodriguez was running at speed through the jungle, and by the sounds of his breathing he was frightened.
"Where are you?" asked Anderson.
"I don't know. I tried to find the tree that we were in, but it's pitch black out here, I can't see shit."
"How did you even get out of the tree?" said Tim's voice. He sounded angry, as if expecting that Rodriguez had purposefully left them in the tree for a night-time stroll.
Rodriguez snorted. "You think I meant to do it? I must have fallen out. Either that or I'm a damn good sleepwalker."
Anderson cut in. "Never mind that. If you've been running you'll never find the same tree again. Least of all in the dark. You need to come here."
Rodriguez laughed in a panic stricken, hysterical fashion. "And how do you suggest I do that? I must have run quarter of a mile by now. That means I've got another half a mile to go to the shed. And that's if I've run in the right direction."
"Let's assume that you have."
"Right, let's. But there's still the nagging pickle of how I'm supposed to find you."
"Hold on."
Anderson shoved the radio to his belt, and looked around at the shed. He walked over to the nearest wall, and followed it, looking it up and down, muttering to himself.
"What are you doing?" asked Guiterrez.
"Flares."
Guiterrez nodded; it made sense that a small station like this would have an emergency flare-gun signalling method in case one of the vehicles broke down out here. If the power went down the phones wouldn't work, and they'd be stranded.
"Wha?..." mumbled Edgar, who lifted his head sleepily as Anderson stumbled over him, almost tripping. "What's going on?"
"Nothing," said Anderson stiffly, "go back to sleep."
Edgar looked at him sullenly for a moment, before standing up. Now Sarah had also lifted her head at the commotion as Anderson knocked over boxes as he followed the walls in a wide circle. "What is it?" she asked.
"Rodriguez is in trouble," said Guiterrez shortly.
"Aha!" said Anderson, and with a flourish pulled a red plastic box from the wall, which clattered as something inside tumbled around. It was covered in dust, and was starting to degrade. Anderson quickly laid it down on the floor, and popped it open. Inside there was thick padding, and a small blunted flare gun. Laid out next to it were two large, bullet shaped silver objects. Anderson pulled the gun out, along with one of the flares, and cracked open the chamber. He walked towards the gate, popping the flare in and taking the radio from his belt.
"Rodriguez, look up," he said into the mouthpiece.
There was a pause, and then a crackle. "What?" said Rodriguez.
"Look up." Anderson snapped the chamber into place, and cocked the gun. Sticking his arm through the bars, and aiming straight up, he squeezed the trigger. There was a sharp bang, and then a loud sizzling filled the air as a bright red flare soared up a hundred feet into the air, leaving behind a trail of thin wispy smoke. The entire shed and surrounding area was thrown into a harsh red glare. The blackness broken, Guiterrez caught glances of the jungle across the grassy field in front of them, swaying lazily in the evening breeze as the leaves reflected the red light.
Anderson pulled his arm back through the bars, and watched the flare continue to soar upwards, now at over two hundred feet. There it stopped climbing, and exploded in a shower of blaring red sparks. Guiterrez was sure that it would be seen for miles around, but he wasn't altogether comfortable with the fact that it'd be seen by every dinosaur in the vicinity as well as Rodriguez.
"I see it," said Rodriguez. "Where'd you get a flare?"
"It was in here," said Anderson, "it's right above our position. Can you see where it is?"
Rodriguez's breaths were now more strained, and his voice was quieter. "Sure I can, it's not far."
Suddenly there was a massive crack, and then silence. Rodriguez's radio had gone dead.
"Shit," said Guiterrez.
"Guys?" came Tim's voice. "What happened?"
"Rodriguez's radio's gone."
"He's dead?"
"We'll know soon enough," said Anderson, "he said he wasn't far. He'll be here in a few minutes if he's still alive."
Guiterrez turned, and picked the carbine rifle off the floor, and walked over to the entrance. Anderson continued to try and raise Rodriguez on the radio, saying his name every few seconds. Edgar was sitting against the back wall of the shed, eyeing the group apprehensively, obviously trying to separate himself from the situation. Sarah came over to stand next to Guiterrez, and stared out into the night.
"Have you heard it?" she asked.
Guiterrez looked at her for a moment. "Heard what?"
"That sound. I heard it earlier, and then over the radio just then."
"That sighing?"
Sarah nodded.
"He said something was out there with him," said Gutierrez.
"Is that what the gun is for?" she said, looking from him to the large gun in his hands.
Guiterrez realized that he must look unnaturally commanding in the situation, holding in his hands their primary defence. "I don't want to take chances. If Rodriguez shows up, something might be on his tail. I'd rather take it out than let it skulk around outside and wait for us."
Sarah nodded, then leaned in close to him. "Have you ever fired that thing?" she asked.
Gutierrez felt himself blush a little. "No. How hard can it be?"
"Well, I'm just saying. Wouldn't it be better if John had the gun? You could shoot Rodriguez."
Anderson's voice came from behind them. "You'll be fine, Martin. Just keep doing what you're doing."
Guiterrez took a deep breath, and trained the rifle on the spaces in between the bars of the gate. He listened hard, and tried to calm himself. He listened to the sounds that came from the jungle in front of them. The Microceratops were quiet now, he couldn't hear them at all. In fact, he realized with a sudden chill that he could hear nothing beyond Anderon's voice on the radio. The jungle was silent.
Or was it?
He cocked his head. And slowly, a slight patter came to his attention. It was coming from the ground in front of them. Like a herd of tiny horses was stampeding outside. And then it was coming from above them. A thousand tiny impacts, all over the roof. And then it was coming from all around them. A trickling, wet sound like a stream began in seconds, and then water dripped through a crack in the ceiling and fell onto Guiterrez's head.
It was raining.
Lightning cracked, illuminating the jungle brilliantly. Thunder blasted through the shelter, and made the concrete vibrate. The patter increased incredibly fast, and within a few seconds they were immersed within a torrential downpour. The rain hammered down, slamming against the ground, churning up the mud and gravel. It sounded as if they were standing within a giant waterfall. Water fell in waves, forming puddles within seconds. Anderson had to raise his voice as he spoke into the radio, and as lightning burst through the sky once more he still couldn't hear anything else.
But then there was a different pattering. The familiar pattern of a running human. The sound of feet splashing in deep puddles and slipping on the grass.
Guiterrez lifted the rifle cautiously, and trained it in wide arcs through the bars. And then there was a sigh. It was still barely audible, and had he not been listening out for it, he wouldn't have heard it at all over the rain. But now it sent a shiver up his spine, and he knew that it was close. Whatever it was out there, it was very close indeed.
A twig snapped, and Guiterrez squeezed the trigger on the rifle instinctively. There was a sharp bang, and the rifle bucked in his hands. The whine of the bullet sounded hollow in the echo of the shed, and there was a dull thud as it hit the ground in the darkness, followed swiftly by a yell.
"Hold your fire, damn it!"
Rodriguez stumbled into the light of the shed, soaking wet and glistening with mud from head to foot. Only the white's of his eyes seemed untouched, which almost glowed in comparison to the glistening brown of his body.
"Rodriguez," said Sarah, "thank god. Get in here."
"What's happening?" came Tim's voice faintly.
"He's here," said Anderson.
Rodriguez smiled, and made to step forward. His smile was still on his face when the jaws of the Metriacanthosaurus reached silently out of the darkness, angled horizontally, and closed around his mid-riff. The skin of the dinosaur glistened with a black, leathery texture, and the fangs glinted maliciously. The teeth slid effortlessly into the flesh of his body, and within a moment Rodriguez was enclosed within the jaws, only centimetres away from the cold, dead-looking, reptilian eye. Guiterrez only had time to give a wordless shout as Rodriguez's eyes opened widely and he was pulled backwards into the thunderstorm. The whole thing had happened silently, and fast. Too fast.
"RODRIGUEZ!" shouted Gutierrez, running up to the bars, and made to climb through them. He had to help him. He had no idea what he could do to fend off such a large animal, but he knew that he couldn't just stand by and watch the animal tear Rodriguez apart. Sarah grabbed him, and wrestled him away.
"You can't! You'll be killed!"
"We can't leave him, damn it!"
"Martin, you can't help him!"
Guiterrez fought from her grip, and realized that he was still holding the gun in his hands. With a surge of rage, he raised the rifle, aiming through the bars. The gun shook in his hands as he struggled to focus. But he quickly realized that there was no way that he was going to be able to help Rodriguez now. It was completely dark, and if he shot he'd almost cetainly miss. Worse, he could hit Rodriguez.
Rodriguez was screaming, and there was the sound of his feet kicking as he struggled against the dinosaur which mixed in with the sound of the pouring rain. Guiterrez knew that the Metriacanthosaurus was easily the size of an Elephant, perhaps bigger. He didn't stand a chance.
"Help!" he wailed, "Please! Somebody help me!"
Guiterrez felt a terrible force crush his chest, as if an icy fist had reached up and gripped his heart.
Anderson appeared beside Guiterrez, open mouthed. The three of them stood there, staring out at the night helplessly.
There was a crunch, and Rodriguez's scream became agonizingly high pitched. The sound of his struggling was now gone. He was simply screaming. Guiterrez began to shake uncontrollably. There was a final screech of pain, and then there was a sickening rip of flesh, and then nothing.
Only the merciless sound of the rain.