Wayne Kyle Spitzer

Dinosaur War Wayne Kyle Spitzer

Sheila waited until the Cessna was well out of sight before reemerging into the glade, still feeling the ground vibrate-which she had first noticed upon crouching so near to it in the bushes-still sensing that something was coming, and still only half aware of where she was or how she'd gotten there. It was, in a sense, as if she still dreamed (certainly the air was still choked with smoke as it had been in her vision of Bozeman), and yet, beyond that, the clearing had about it a slumberous quality all its own, one she could only liken to a cathedral or other place of worship, at least until the M1-A1 Abrams tank appeared at its opposite end and began rattling toward her. Holy Mother of God, she thought, as it was joined by another ... and another ... and yet another still; nor did they travel alone but were accompanied by foot soldiers, themselves armed with flamethrowers. And that was just the first tier. For behind them lumbered a collection of dinosaurs-a triceratops and stegosaurus were easy enough to spot-less obvious were the legions of velociraptors which flitted between the trees like wraiths. And behind all of it strode an allosaur such as those they'd encountered at the Santiago-except this one was mottled red and black and bore a kind of saddle-upon which the Bandana Man sat, perched. Like a king, she thought. Or a bizarro-verse paladin ... who raised a hand, and, without so much as a word, somehow caused the tanks and the animals to stop. And then there she was, alone against an array of idling tanks and grumbling animals, as the Bandana Man trotted his steed around to the front and simply stared at her, his gaze such that it seemed she was being penetrated rather than merely looked upon, and penetrated by not just two eyes but many, as though the man were not a single being at all but legion. And she found she wanted to run more than anything in the world but couldn't. Wanted to turn and dash for Barley and the arms of Sammy and Erik but was paralyzed. And it was at that moment that the man in the bandana swung a leg over the saddle and glided-yes, glided-to the earth, where he touched down like a fog, and she wanted to scream, tried to scream, but couldn't-and not because her body had become paralyzed but for the simple reason that she no longer had a mouth to do so.