Chapter 34

Awakening

Dodgson lifted his head fractionally from its resting place, and groaned in pain. The world was spinning crazily, and he felt his stomach cringe as nausea crashed over him. He lay as still as possible, struggling with the internal battle to keep himself from throwing up. His head throbbed steadily, sending pulses of pain through his skull, blocking all thought from his mind.

Slowly, the urge to be sick dissipated, and he hesitantly opened his eyes slightly. Bright yellow sunshine met his corneas as his eyelids retreated, and he gave an involuntary exhale as drumbeats of pain burst into the back of his eyes, causing spots of color to dance into his field of vision.

He realized that he must be on his back, as the light was shining directly downwards. Dimly he became aware of black patterns in the light, squiggling randomly across the brightness. Somewhere in the back of his mind a small voice told him that he was staring at the canopy of a tree.

His vision sharpened, the blurry shapes coming into focus, and he saw that he was right. He was looking up at the sky, which was a dim blue, dotted with thin streaks of cloud cover. It looked as if it was just after dawn. The tips of twigs and leaves above were waving in the light breeze, and the song of tropical birds floated down to him, mixed in with the chorus of insects. Far off to the left there was an otherworldly chirruping which he didn't recognize.

It was pleasantly warm, the sun heating his skin, and he guessed it was early morning.

Dodgson frowned slightly at the canopy of the tree. It was too low. The far reaches of the canopy above him were only around fifteen feet up.

He was lying on something rough, and oddly shaped, bumpy in places. It wasn't soft like he expected the ground to be. He was lying in a tree.

But how did he get here? He couldn't remember at all. In fact he couldn't remember anything that had happened to him before meeting Rossiter.

He sat up in a sudden fit of panic, and screamed as bolts of white hot pain thundered down his spine. He collapsed back onto the branch he lay on in agony, his eyes closed tight, gritting his teeth. His entire body ached, and he felt his muscles tighten against the pain.

"Jesus Christ," he gasped.

He waited for a minute until the pain subsided, and he felt strong enough to try again.

Carefully, and gently, he sat up as slowly as his body would allow, grunting against the shooting pains that erupted from every conceivable place.

Eventually he reached a sitting position, breathing shallowly, and looked down at himself. His clothes were tattered, and a large rip ran from his right shoulder down across his chest, the cloth frayed and dotted with blood. It looked as if he had been bleeding, but the blood was tinged brown, suggesting it had dried quite some time ago.

He was soaked through. His legs and chest felt damp, his clothes clinging to his skin. Even his hair was wet. He lifted his hands from the branch and saw that the bark of the wood was also wet. It must have rained here…wherever here was.

He lifted his head, and looked around him. He sat on a thick branch of a large tree well over sixty feet high. Other trees surrounded him on all sides. Sunlight broke through the thick canopy above, forming shafts of bright orange that formed intermittently around him. Below him, there was nothing for over twenty feet before a layer of thick underbrush concealed his view of the floor.

He must be in a jungle somewhere near the equator. Perhaps he was in the Amazon or on a Caribbean island. But how he had managed to get here, he had no idea. It didn't make sense.

Suddenly the world span again, and he felt bile slide up from his stomach. He leant over to the side, and vomited onto the ground below. He groaned weakly, and found that he was losing his balance. He tried to grip the branch with his legs and hands, but found that his muscles only responded feebly, and that he was sliding sideways from the bark. With a yell his body tumbled from its position on the branch and fell towards the ferns lining the floor.

He crashed through the underbrush, and impacted the ground with a dull thud. As soon as his head touched the floor pain streaked through his body again, and he felt the walls of his lungs slap together as he was winded, the air inside him flying out through his mouth as he tried to shout out.

He lay there on the ground for a moment, flailing his arms noiselessly as he tried desperately to drag air back into his lungs.

Gradually his chest re-inflated, and he sucked in as much as he could. Ferns smothered him on all sides, and he found that it was unpleasantly hot on the ground. Mud was splattered all over his body. His hands felt wet and slippery.

Gritting his teeth, and bracing himself against the pain, he forced himself onto his knees, which screamed in protest. But he ignored the sensation of being stabbed with a hot knife, and pulled his left leg so that his foot was pushing against the ground. With a heave he pushed himself to a stand.

His head rose only a foot over the tips of the ferns, and with a groan of annoyance he cast the closest of them aside, ripping them up.

A slight vibration caused him to pause. He didn't know what had made it, or why it caused him to stop. But stop he did; and he found himself listening with apprehension.

The vibration came again a second later, running up his legs through the ground. He found himself break out in a cold sweat, yet his mind remained blank.

What could it be? Perhaps a piece of machinery…

It came again, stronger this time. He saw the ferns around him visibly quiver. He frowned.

An ear splitting, powerful roar suddenly tore through the jungle. It was terrifying; unlike anything he had ever heard. It sounded like an animal, a massive animal.

A flashing sequence of images suddenly appeared before his eyes. The boat, Edgar, the trailer, the Gallimimus, the Tyrannosaurus.

"Son of a bitch," he whispered to himself as everything came rushing back to him. It had hit him with its tail, and he had flown into the jungle. He must have hit the tree and lost consciousness. And now it was morning; he must have lay there in the tree for the whole night.

He had no idea how far the Tyrannosaur had thrown him, nor did he have any idea of the exact time. Looking up for a moment, he guessed roughly from the position of the sun in the sky that it was somewhere around nine o'clock.

Another vibration ran through the ground, and this time his legs wobbled violently. The Tyrannosaur was coming back; he had to get out of here, now.

He turned in a circle. One his left was a steep slope, running uphill for quarter of a mile, where the crest of a hill formed. To his right the ground continued to slope downwards.

He wasn't strong enough to climb the slope, and he needed to get away fast. The vibration ran through the ground again, followed by a low growl.

The car must be nearby, but he knew that it must be at the top of the hill. The Rex couldn't have thrown him twenty feet up into the trees while also throwing him uphill. He'd have to go downhill for now and circle around back to it.

The trees behind him further uphill suddenly began to shake, and the floor shook again, this time accompanied by a deep booming sound.

Dodgson turned and ran on rubbery legs downhill, stepping as carefully as possible, his body begging him to stop as his muscles were stretched and pulled. Pumping his arms determinedly, he put one foot in front of the other, casting aside the largest of the ferns with his hands.

The slippery mud made running difficult, and he found himself struggling to keep his footing. Droplets of water from the rainwater flew from the underbrush onto his face, making him sticky and filthy in only a few seconds.

The Tyrannosaur roared again began him, and he put on a spurt, dashing downhill. Slowly his legs became stronger, and he was able to maintain his balance easier. He stumbled sideways as a large tree trunk loomed out of the ferns, and then the floor was gone.

His legs continued to make running motions through the air for a few moments as his body flew downwards. He wind milled his arms frantically as he saw that the muddy ground gave way to a seventy foot cliff. As he fell he saw that the jungle continued below. All around him vines dangled from a large tree overhanging the cliff, forming a miniature jungle of vertical ropes. Directly below him a small stream dotted with jagged rocks gurgled softly. If he hit one of the rocks he would be killed.

His body tumbled helplessly through the air, and he fell head over heels, shouting wordlessly. His hand brushed up against one of the vines, and he gripped it instinctively. His hand burned fiercely as he his momentum forced him to slide along the vine for another five feet, the friction searing his palm. He stopped with a jolt, dangling from the vine.

Looking up at the edge of the cliff, he swore to himself. He was thirty feet from the lip of the muddy cliff top, but still forty feet from the ground below. He'd have to climb down and move along the edge of the cliff until he could find a way back up to the car.

Suddenly there was a chirp, and the leaves of the nearest tree shook. A small Dinosaur hopped out onto a branch which extended to within ten feet of him. It was small, maybe the size of a cat. It was greenish brown in coloration, with black striations running along the flanks of its back. Its face was bony, a frill stuck out from its scalp, and its mouth formed into a sharp beak, like a parrot's.

It ran easily along the branch, and skipped off, onto one of the vines next to him. It swung effortlessly sideways, gripping the vine with its hands and feet, eyeing him curiously.

It didn't look threatening; in fact it looked quite cute. Its large eyes stared at him ceaselessly, reminding him of the fascinated stare that human infants had in their earliest years.

"What do you want?" he breathed at the small dinosaur.

At his voice the dinosaur shifted the angle of its head, and chirped playfully.

"Go on, get outta here," Dodgson said, and hissed at the animal. "Go on now, get!"

The dinosaur squeaked, and with extreme agility and speed it leaped through the air from its position on the vine, and back into the jungle, disappearing from fright.

"Yeah, that's right," said Dodgson, smirking after the animal, just as a single snorting exhale floated down to him, ruffling his hair.

Dodgson froze, and closed his eyes, and mouthed a stream of swear words. The snorting sound came again, and this time he felt a sudden wet splat on top of his head. A warm liquid ran down his forehead, onto the bridge of his nose. He moved his hand to his head, and then pulled it away, inspecting it.

Saliva.

Ever so slowly, he tilted his head upwards, and looked at the lip of the cliff above him.

A Tyrannosaur stood motionless twenty feet above, staring down at him. It was perched like a lion ready to pounce, its head several feet lower than the edge of the cliff. It was leaning over, and he was surprised that the animal managed to maintain its balance and keep its feet planted as firmly on the ground as they were, until he saw the long tail snake through the air behind its head. The eyes swiveled in the sockets, looking at him coldly. The massive jaws hung open, saliva dripping in large globs from its fangs.

The Rex growled down at him; a long, low, menacing snarl.

Dodgson's heart was beating savagely against the walls of his chest, and his grip on the vine was now vice-like. But he could see that there was no way for the Tyrannosaur to reach him.

"You want me, you toothy son of a bitch?" he said to the Tyrannosaur, "you're gonna have to come down here and get me."

The Tyrannosaur took a single breath, and roared explosively. The sound hit him like a solid wall, and he could feel the raw power of the animal from the sheer quantity of air that soared from its chest cavity. It sent splinters into his soul; it was a scream from the past, another world. The roar left his ears ringing, his head swimming. His hair was blown up, and he smelt rotting flesh on its breath.

Dodgson stared at the Rex insolently, and began to slowly edge his way down the vine. There was no way it could follow him, and jumping would easily kill it.

At the sight of its quarry escaping, the Tyrannosaur snapped its jaws shut, and stamped its foot in fury. It roared again, but seemed unsure of what to do. It lunged down at him, and snapped its jaws, but it remained well over ten feet above him.

"Sayonara, sucker," said Dodgson, and began to slide downwards, towards the ground below.

The Rex roared at him again, and then, to his horror, bit the vine which he was swinging from. He hung in the air for a moment, and his eyes widened as he began to fall helplessly once more.

"Oh shiiittt!" he yelled as he fell, flying down towards the ground. The Tyrannosaur roared in anger at the sight of him escaping. His body twisted as it fell, and now he was falling head first towards the stream. A sudden jolt which almost broke his leg brought him to another stop, twelve feet from the ground.

He groaned in pain, and turned, looking up. The Tyrannosaur was now almost sixty feet above him, eyeing him malevolently against the sky, its jaws working.

What had caught him was another one of the vines, which had looped around his left ankle. But, to his displeasure, he saw that it was already beginning to stretch, and would snap any second.

He sighed, and looked down at the stream, which flowed peacefully, indifferent and innocent. His vine lay curled in the water, already being swept away.

"This isn't happening," he murmured to himself as the vine tangled around his ankle broke and he went flying towards the floor.