Kingdom of Monsters Page 6

  Shanna said nothing, reluctant to speak, as Kate pointed out several other examples, all from different eras, all the culmination of their evolutionary lines.

  “And what are those evil-looking critters?” Maverick asked, indicating a troop of decidedly non-herbivorous beasts lounging in the shade, stretched out like a pride of lions.

  “Predators,” Shanna said, “are mostly inactive during the day. Those are Giganotosaurus – a carcharodont-carnosaur.”

  “Largest of theropods,” Kate said, nodding. “So? No T. rex, then?”

  Shanna glanced at her in the mirror.

  “We keep the T. rex sequestered,” she said, “rival predators tend to fight.”

  There was a sudden, startled screech from the back seat. Otto had crept up on Betty's ear, darting a quick tongue in-and-out, prompting a frenzied response, her hands flailing as if slapping at a spider.

  Otto hopped back over the seat.

  “Leave her alone, Otto,” Shanna chastised.

  The little lizard ducked out of sight. Maverick grinned at Betty.

  “I think he likes you,”

  Casting Maverick an evil eye, Betty turned her attention back to the creatures down in the valley.

  “These animals are too big for this island,” she said. “There isn't enough biomass.”

  “We have automation,” Shanna said, “that sends feed out to the island. We also have heavy vitamin content pumped into the water, saturating grazing fields, as well as hybridized vegetation. The sort that could feed the world if it were mass-produced.”

  “Why isn't it?” Betty asked.

  “Because,” Shanna said stiffly, “we don't exist.”

  They had reached the summit and could now see several structures built on the crest of the falls, right at the point where the plateau split – a hydro-power set-up, obviously, but unlike any Kate had ever seen.

  Congo, who had been keeping pace at a galloping dog-trot, suddenly fell back.

  “Your monkey friend's taking a powder,” Maverick said.

  “Yes,” Shanna said. “We have a guest in camp right now, and they don't get along.”

  Kate wondered what manner of guest could drive off an eight-ton gorilla.

  The compound was mounted so as to overlook the valley – a series of buildings, most utilitarian, but with living quarters perched at the top, and massive fencing built anywhere that wasn't protected by sheer drop-off.

  Below the main compound, carved into the cliff so as to allow direct access to the road, there were several enclosures, constructed on stair-stepping levels, like a zoo built into a steep hillside.

  Heavy-duty construction, Kate noted. Sort of like what you saw on elephant cages, or aquarium tanks containing whales.

  Shanna slowed to a stop, parking the Jeep, and led them on foot to the main gate. The road looked down on the enclosures – they were all empty, except for the one immediately below.

  “This,” Shanna said, “is our guest.”

  The tyrannosaur was immense.

  It lay in the enclosure, curled up like a big cat – or rather more like a big duck, with its nose tucked tight under one shoulder. It seemed to be sleeping, its huge nostrils flaring with deep rhythmic snores that might have echoed out of a bear's cave.

  “He's huge,” Betty said.

  Shanna nodded.

  “Yes. By weight, he's the biggest meat-eater on the island.” She pushed open the gate that led to the enclosures. “Wait here a moment.”

  Shanna made her way down the steep stairway to the rex-pen.

  The foursome watching from the road above drew a collective breath as she pulled the lock and stepped inside.

  “Is she crazy?” Maverick whispered, lest his voice rouse the beast.

  Cameron glanced wide-eyed at Kate, who motioned to keep his camera rolling.

  Kate wasn't sure what she was seeing. Fascinated in spite of herself, she had barely processed the reality of a T. rex as a living animal in a cage, but was already assigning acceptable protocol. What she saw below reminded her of animal handlers who got careless around large predators in their care – until one day, the predator suddenly remembered itself.

  Shanna paused at the gate, producing what looked like a pneumatic-injector needle, of the type used on large livestock, before stepping fully into the enclosure and marching purposefully towards the sleeping giant.

  Maverick nodded to Cameron.

  “If she sticks that thing, make sure you got that camera on, because I'll want to see the replay.”

  His voice carried. Shanna looked up from the enclosure, smiling as she felt along the dragon's scaly neck, clearing the needle, and injected the shot into the thick hide.

  The rex didn't even interrupt a snore.

  “He's been sedated,” Shanna said, her voice drifting up. “That was a shot of antibiotics. Tyrannosaurs heal up pretty fast as a rule, but he's had a rough go of it lately.”

  Betty leaned over, observing the rex' hide, which did indeed seem to be a collage of scrapes and abrasions.

  “He's injured?”

  “Life's tough for your male T. rex,” Shanna said, patting the somnolent beast on its massive, over-muscled cheek. “Especially during mating season. He's got bites all over him.”

  “Other males?”

  “The females,” Shanna said. “T. rex packs are lorded over by the females. Males are too aggressive, and the pack will eject or kill them once they reach adolescence. Except for a few weeks during mating season.”

  Shanna ran her hand over some of the big tyrannosaur's wounds – rather similar, Kate thought, to 'mating-bites' she had seen on large Great White sharks.

  “Very few males grow to full adulthood,” Shanna said. “Those that do, like Big Rex here, are usually loners. They spend most of their time driving off the competing predators, like the big carcharodonts and the packs of sickle-claws. That's why we have to keep them sequestered. The predators would all kill each other long before they even touched the herd animals.”

  “So,” she said, “in the interest of genetic diversity, being that the island territory is too small, and left to his own instincts, he'd just stake out the whole island as his, and bite any critter who thought different...” Shanna shrugged. “We just give him a little time-out up here.”

  She gave the sleeping dragon one last pat before turning for the exit.

  The moment she turned her back, the rex' head suddenly popped up behind her, perking awake like some giant bird.

  In the space of a heartbeat, the six-foot head dipped forward.

  Kate's voice caught in her throat as she started to shout out a warning – rendered moot, as Betty let out a full-throated scream.

  Shanna turned, just as the massive jaws parted – a long, thick, pink tongue lulled out, reaching towards her slender form...

  … and licked her from her thigh to her head, a slobbering wet dog-kiss that nearly knocked her off her feet.

  “Rex!” Shanna blurted, laughing. “Stop it! Lay down!”

  And the ten-ton beast lay its head down beside her. A rumble reverberated deep in its chest – a sound like purring.

  On the ridge above, the four visitors to the island exhaled as one.

  “Big dope,” Shanna said, swatting playfully at the rex' gnarled hide. “God forbid he and Congo bump into each other when we turn him loose tomorrow. They're both jealous as dogs.”

  “Jealous of what?” Kate asked.

  Kate scratched the rex behind the ears.

  “Of me. Both of them want to be the favorite.”

  Beneath her scratching fingers, over skin that hadn't even noticed a shot from a pneumatic-needle, the big rex was lulled back into a doze. The nostrils again flared into snores. Shanna stepped back.

  “Lazy animals,” she said. “Worse than lions.”

  Shanna locked the enclosure behind her – a fairly token gesture to Kate's eye, as the animal within looked fully capable of getting out on its own.

  Yet, it
lounged peaceably enough.

  On the other hand, at the moment the rex had first reared its head, the little lizard, Otto, had jumped from under the seat and scurried through the gate, disappearing into the compound.

  “Otto doesn't like the T. rex either,” Shanna explained, as she rejoined them on the road. “Which, I suppose is fair. Given the chance, tyrannosaurs eat those little guys like popcorn.”

  She pulled the lever on the main gate – latched, not locked – no particular need for that kind of security.

  “Where exactly are you taking us?” Kate asked.

  Shanna motioned them all through, closing the gate behind them.

  “I have to keep you here in the compound until someone shows up to arrest you.” She shrugged. “It shouldn't be long.”

  “Keep us here?” Maverick objected. “What if we don't want to be kept?”

  “Well,” Shanna said, “I have an eight-ton gorilla that could force the issue. But considering your other option is to wander around in the jungle....?” She nodded down into the valley. “Be my guest.”

  Maverick looked down where hundred-foot sauropods lounged like scaled-up elephants under the wash of the falls.

  “You know,” he said, “I would kind of like to ride one.”

  Cameron patted Maverick on the shoulder, turning him away, nodding placatingly to Shanna.

  “Let's not tempt him,” he said. “We're fine with being kept.”

  Kate, however, was not.

  “Excuse me,” she said, “but my communication was with Professor Nolan Hinkle. I was unaware he even had a daughter.”

  Shanna frowned, eyeing Kate skeptically.

  “I don't know how that's possible,” she said. “My father doesn't have correspondence. With anybody.”

  Shanna fell silent as she led them through the compound, until they came to a large building that seemed to be the utilitarian centerpiece, mounted on the ridge, directly above the animal enclosures.

  The building was space-age, looking even more bizarre in the tropical prehistoric landscape, with a preponderance of glass, like a clean-room in a high-tech development lab.

  Through the thick, transparent-alloy windows, they could see the distorted image of a man puttering about inside, a morphing shadow among an assortment of blinking screens and bubbling cauldrons.

  Shanna tapped a button, and the door slid open with a loud buzz.

  After a moment, the man inside paused – belatedly, as if the sound took a moment to register – perhaps hard of hearing.

  Shanna motioned them inside. The automatic glass doors slid shut behind them.

  It was like standing on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise, stepping right out of the lost world into a futuristic space-age.

  Shanna pressed a second button and two more glass doors slid apart, accessing the main lab.

  The man inside turned towards them. He was white-haired and balding, clad in a well-worn lab coat and glasses – short, squat and rather toad-like in his face and form.

  The old man blinked, as if confused.

  “What's this?” he said. “Visitors?”

  “Daddy?” Shanna said, doubtfully, “these people tell me they were invited here by you.”

  Shanna turned to Kate.

  “Miss Rhodes,” she said, “this is my father. Professor Nolan Hinkle.”

  Chapter 7

  There was only one pair of human eyes on the mountain who saw the pterosaurs take out the transport chopper.

  Mark had learned to be wary of his fellow survivors, and he already had a bad history with the military, so when he saw the helicopter in trouble, he really hoped he wouldn't be put in a position of having to render aid.

  Sticking one's nose where it didn't belong was a lesson Mark had punched into him long before KT-day.

  Despite rampaging monsters, dragons, or abominations, or whatever you chose to call them, if you were human, you always had to be watchful of your own species first.

  Mark had been making his way through the Rockies for the last few weeks, and was just getting his first look at the downward slope of the current mountain. The Rockies took a brief topographical break right at the triple border between Colorado, Wyoming, and Utah, dipping down into a series of river-cut valleys and lowlands, before rising back up to their full stature as they bled into all three states.

  Normally, Mark would avoid the lowlands, but he was already anxious to get out of the general area. Earlier today, he was about to pick a ripe-looking berry, growing just off the path, before he spotted what looked like an exploded squirrel. With its insides-out, Mark could clearly see it had been feeding on the same bush.

  As he took a second look, he realized that the foliage seemed odd. He was no botanist, but he'd grown up in the northwest and he knew trees.

  The indigenous fauna was being strangled and invaded. He hadn't noticed at first, because the new growth was likewise suited for the surroundings, but with different species of leaves adapted for the same niche.

  Mark kicked at the dead squirrel. He'd seen this effect before, whenever a normal animal – didn't matter if it was crow, coyote, fish or insect – tried to scavenge off a carcass of one of the giants.

  Normal animals didn't get infected – it was fatal – catastrophically fatal – on the spot.

  Whatever caused this new invasive wildlife to grow into giants utterly destroyed normal organisms, right from the cellular level, like a power-pill that simply overloaded the DNA. Visually, it was rather like every single cell erupting into a zit, and then popping all at once.

  Surviving indigenous species quickly learned to avoid the giant carcasses, no matter how tempting the mountain of meat might be. In point of fact, it was advisable to leave the entire area, because, while the carrion might be off-limits to modern scavengers, resurrected prehistoric relics came running. That was how the infection spread.

  But Mark had never seen it transmitted through plants before.

  It was as if this new growth that seemed to have taken over this side of the mountain, winding in among the giant trees like ivy, had absorbed the fatal element/chemical in its very pores.

  Was this whole mountain about to bloom?

  As he looked around, Mark wondered if a wise man might set a torch to the entire area.

  On the other hand, he was still several hard days' travel out of the mountains, let alone with a forest fire on his heels.

  Thus, in the pursuit of self-interest, this ecological time-bomb, whatever it was or however it had been set, would continue to tick away.

  Mark wondered how many other such ticking mines were hidden out there in this new wilderness.

  The thought was enough to get him moving, and he had been hoofing it hard, hoping to vacate the area by sundown, when he first saw the chopper pass above.

  He watched as the pterosaurs swarmed, and despite gunshots, and an apparently imaginative pilot, the transport craft piled it in just over the next peak. He could hear the crash.

  Once-upon-a-time, his first instinct would have been to run and help. That impulse had been systematically beaten out of him.

  The last time he had extended his good Samaritan hand, he'd nearly gotten his ass bit off by a T. rex.

  Ironic – in a world where he had become a prey animal, his biggest hang-ups were still trust issues.

  “Damn,” he muttered, as he began a reluctant march in the direction the chopper had gone down.

  Then, in the bushes, he heard a low hiss.

  Mark froze. It was a sound he knew all too well. He scanned the surrounding brush – nothing more than four-feet high, but thick.

  Just right for an ambush.

  The thing exploded from the leaves like a flushed pheasant, less than two-feet tall, but with chomping jaws like a thirty-pound reptilian pitbull.

  T. rex were mean as hell, right from the egg, and Mark had seen this little SOB before.

  He had his pistol out in a flash.

  “Hey there, Junior,” Mark sai
d, pulling the trigger, “you little sonofabitch.”

  The little creature's jaws were the size of German Shepard's, but the teeth could sever his hand like a shark's, coming at him at a sprint.

  It knew gunfire, though. After the first shot scraped its hide, the little monster broke its attack, darting back for the bushes, as Mark emptied the clip after it.

  One of these nights, that thing would come creeping up while he was sleeping. If a five-ton rex could stalk as soundless as a cat, a four-foot hatchling was as light as a spider.

  It would keep coming too. T. rex were like that.

  Mark knew why well enough – just like he knew where it had learned its respect for gunfire.

  It was because Mark had killed its mother – a five-ton female he had shot in the head, right in front of her lone surviving brood.

  He hadn't wanted to, but the thing had chased him for six-hundred miles.

  All things considered, Mark knew he was ridiculously lucky to be alive.

  Although, anybody alive was lucky these days.

  Mark had not been ground-zero anywhere on KT-day, but he had been one of the first to encounter what the rest of the world had waiting in the wings.

  Ironically, as far as the government was concerned, that had made him an 'asset' – and as such, he had already been in 'protective custody', sequestered far away from the cities, when the day ultimately arrived.

  But it was only a temporary stay – the marching apocalypse finally caught up with him too, and the entire base where he had been stationed was stomped flat.

  That night, he had also lost a young woman he had cared a mountain for.

  Mark and Sally had spent the year together, mostly in incarceration, living on-base like married recruits – just not free to come and go.

  They met on a cruise – shortly before their boat sank, just off the Central American Pacific Coast.

  Cruise-wrecks were actually fairly common, because they navigated shallow waters, putting them at risk of collision with reefs. It was almost routine – all passengers had made it to lifeboats.

  In fact, no one would have died, if they hadn't made it to shore.

  Mark had heard stories about castaways landing along this coast and stumbling into anything from modern pirates to Cartel drug-grow operations, and never being seen again.