Jurassic War

Eleven

Peterson’s unit moved through the darkness and stepped into the dense jungle. The scant lighting of the moon became even more obscured by flush vegetation overhead, but the immense leaves hampered the rain, so only a drizzle got through.

He heard gunfire from the primary landing zone. A distinct sound, the Thompson machinegun whistling, the final blasts reminded him of someone getting in the last word. He figured the Raiders had taken some casualties, but they’d repelled an attack and driven the enemy from the beach. Marines would soon be heading into the interior. And enemy reinforcements would break toward the conflict from every corner of the tiny atoll.

Japanese troops might happen across his unit, so they needed to remain alert.

The path inland was sandy as they hadn’t traversed much distance from shore. Peterson ordered the unit to halt, partly so he could listen to the battle wind down, and because he couldn’t readily hear his own footsteps over the commotion. And he didn’t want to walk right on top of an enemy position.

Silence once again crept over the island and he ordered the column to advance. Tomko led them further from shore and the path changed into a muddy trail, where at times the way was indiscernible with the jungle floor.

Tomko froze. And the two Raiders in his fire team stopped behind him. Peterson took a moment to comprehend the situation; he bumped into Chandler, the rifleman in front of him.

Beyond the procession of marines, Peterson spotted what caused the abrupt halt.

A set of menacing yellow eyes peered at them from a few yards down the path. The orbs hovered about four feet above the ground. Tomko slowly eased the butt of the machinegun into the nook of his shoulder, then he pointed the barrel at the target.

Just before he squeezed the trigger, a creature leapt from his right and pounded onto his chest, scraping its lower legs against his abdomen, and tearing at his throat with sharp, hooked claws. A scent of rotted meat accompanied the creature.

The marine fell to the ground, grasping the Velociraptor’s throat with one hand, and reaching for his fighting knife with the other. Private Owens stepped into the mix and leveled the BAR at the dinosaur’s round head.

But Tomko reeled in agony as the creature lacerated his gut, rolling to the side and making the shot more difficult. Then, another dinosaur rushed at Owens from the left, and he was down, wrestling with the beast like his compatriot. And the dinosaur that caused them all to stop on the trail ducked under foliage and reappeared a moment later.

It pounced on a rifleman, toppling Chandler to the ground. Flailing feet and scraping talons serrated his flesh. Wailing in agony, the fallen Raider’s screams sent the remaining marines into stock-still figurines, useless in repelling the attack.

Owens got free and stepped over to assist Chandler, knocking the creature off its prey. The beast pounded on him, while the other continued to torment Tomko. Struggling against the strength of the powerful creature, Owens stumbled and fell to the deck. He held up the Browning to fend off the dinosaur. The creature’s flailing knocked it away.

Peterson finally moved into action. He dove on the Velociraptor assaulting Tomko; he grabbed its throat, then pressed his Colt .45 against the dinosaur’s head and pulled the trigger.

A loud bang echoed through the jungle. The creature toppled over with a thud.

Now, the other melee caught Peterson’s attention. Owens lay on the ground with the Browning out of reach, feet kicking, as the creature ripped his guts apart. Blood spurted from his stomach and throat, as the dinosaur clawed and bit at the man. A slaughter.

Peterson lunged at the beast, but it turned and squawked and snapped at him. It bit his hand as he reached for its throat, then the damn thing sprung from the carcass and disappeared into the leafy surroundings with a scrap of flesh clamped in its jaws.

He glanced down as the marine quit flailing. Owens stopped breathing. The young private’s eyes glazed over, and the frigid state of death consumed a once active and vibrant body.

A moment later and the third dinosaur pounced on the wounded point man.

Tomko fought the creature by bending his knees to his chest, protecting his vital innards, and only allowed the creature to latch onto a forearm. Then, he thrust his Bowie knife into the Velociraptor’s underbelly and slashed the creature open from groin to neck.

The dinosaur yowled in pain and leapt off the Raider onto the pathway. It walked three steps, while the body convulsed and wavered, leaking its fluids onto the saturated jungle floor, then it stopped and keeled over onto its side.

Once again, the gentle pattering of raindrops made the only sound, as the jungle slipped into a serene quiet. Everything remained still, except for the tranquil vacillations of leaves being sprinkled with rain. Pungent aroma of decaying foliage was displaced by the damp scent of tropical rain. Now, rivulets along the trail meandered with crimson torrents back toward the small landing beach.

Peterson crouched by Tomko and checked his vital signs. The young man appeared alert and strong. He checked the private’s viscera and was surprised to find everything intact.

“How are you holding up?” Peterson looked into the young man’s eyes.

Tomko grinned. “I’m going to pull through this one.”

“Let’s get a good look at your neck.”

The Raider lifted his chin.

Several scratches had gouged the skin, and lacerations left striations in the flesh, but his major arteries remained uninjured. “This looks okay. It will need some cleaning up and a dressing.”

Tomko smiled. “See, I told you.”

“Now, let me take a better look at your midsection.”

Complying with the request, Tomko unclasped his war-belt and pulled up his shirt, enough to expose the pale skin beneath. Large gashes burrowed into his abdomen. But the injuries were superficial, and the cuts didn’t penetrate his insides.

Peterson grunted with relief. “Guess you’ll survive this one. Your shins must be ripped to shreds, though.”

Another young marine knelt by Tomko, and he began to apply first-aid treatment.

“What the hell were those things?” said Private Davidson.

“Raptors. Very dangerous.”

“Thought those things were as big as a mule, and extinct.”

“Raptors are only that big in the dime store comic books. But the blasted things sure know how to kill, and they sure as hell should be extinct. But clearly some have survived.”

“What’s next, sir?” Private Davidson said.

The question caught Peterson off guard, but he knew what the kid meant. A shot had given away their position, and the jungle was full of dangers far beyond enemy soldiers. He needed to come up with a plan.

He considered the fact that the commanding officer had changed plans and his unit wasn’t even required to be in this remote location. Everyone else had landed on the main beach. They were the only unit on this side of the island. He could lead them back to the boat, paddle along the coastline, and meet up with the others. He also considered the distinct advantage of a small special operations unit working under the cloak of darkness, far behind enemy lines. Such a tactic was consistent with the creation of the Marine Raider Battalions. But the thought of more dinosaurs gave him the dithers.

“Sir?” Davidson repeated.

“We’ll continue to move inland,” Peterson finally said.

“Right, sir.” The marine sounded meek.

An unsettling feeling crept over Peterson along with the brewing tropical storm. Something ominous awaited them in the jungle, and he could feel the dread in his dampened bones, a gut-wrenching fear of the fate that awaited them.