Return To Primordial Island by Rick Poldark (namjoon book recommendations TXT) 📗

he had other things on his mind. “Yeah, but three. The chopper said three T. rexes.” His protest was interrupted by the buzzing of a minigun and angry roars. “What…?”

“That would be the chopper tearing through your T. rexes,” said Nielsen, beaming.

As the vehicle lurched forward, Peter felt the percussion of tyrannosaur footfalls growing closer. “Yeah, but can it handle three?”

Tracey slid to the back of the vehicle to look out of the small window. “Peter, you have to see this.”

Peter slid in next to her, while Nielsen looked over their shoulders. Peter saw the Humvees fall behind, trailing the armored truck. “What are they doing?”

“Getting ready to engage,” said Nielsen.

Three tyrannosaurs burst out of the tree line behind the convoy. The Huey followed overhead, laying cover fire from above. Bolts of light erupted from the minigun, pelting the beasts below.

The gunners on the Humvees swiveled around in their ring mounts and fired at the advancing predators. The tyrannosaur leading the charge took the brunt of the attack. It sustained a direct hit to its mouth, and it slowed down, staggered, and dropped, blood oozing from its jowls. The other two picked up the pace.

“I thought T. rexes didn’t run,” said Tracey.

“These do,” said Peter.

The one to the right lowered its head and extended it out, snapping at the Humvee in front of it. The gunner, panicked and thrown off by the tyrannosaur’s sudden change of posture, fired several shots but missed most of them, only tagging it on its right shoulder and blowing off its tiny right arm. Furious, the T. rex pushed forward and roared at the gunner.

The other Humvee picked up speed as the pursuing tyrannosaur snapped at it. However, the predator pumped its muscular legs, keeping pace.

The now one-armed T. rex took several direct hits to its open mouth, the grenades devastating its soft palate and rattling its brain in its skull. It slowed to a walk as it shook its head, its mouth smoking, and toppled sideways into the river with a large splash.

The Huey above redirected focus on the remaining Tyrannosaur, barraging it with bolts of light. It roared in frustration as it dove at the Humvee in front of it.

“See,” said Nielsen, inside the armored truck. “The situation is well in hand.”

Peter, Tracey, and Nielsen startled as two tyrannosaurs came out of the tree line to the right, flanking the two Humvees. Having focused entirely on the rear, the drivers and gunners were taken by surprise. Before they had time to react, the flanking tyrannosaurs pounced on the vehicles, crushing tires under their massive weight. Peter watched in horror as the gunners were plucked from their mounts and voraciously consumed.

“Jesus Christ,” said Collins. He got on his radio. “Chief to base, we’re under attack. Weapons team down, requesting assistance.” His radio only registered static. “Chief to base, we’re under attack, requesting assistance.” There were other strange noises, like distortion.

The chopper hovered over the two Humvees, firing at the two monsters tearing into them. The remaining original tyrannosaur deftly dodged the tangle and continued after the armored truck.

“He’ll never catch us,” said Nielsen.

The armored truck fishtailed, hitting a patch of soggy riverbank. Losing speed as the driver attempted to overcorrect, it slipped in the mud, spinning its wheels as it lurched forward, pushing its way through the soft, muddy embankment. The pursuing T. rex gained on them, closing the gap.

Marcy snarled at Nielsen. “You really need to shut up now.”

It caught up, lowered its head, and rammed the side of the vehicle. Inside, Peter and the others were thrown about as the vehicle slid sideways. Outside, the T. rex staggered on its feet having injured itself with the blow. It was as if it thought the truck was an animal and hadn’t expected it to be so hard on the head.

Peter reached out and stabilized himself as Tracey fell into his lap. Nielsen and Marcy fell on the floor. Tracey pushed herself up.

“Are you all right?” asked Peter.

She held her head. “I think so.”

Nielsen helped Marcy up. “Are you okay?”

Marcy looked shaken. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

The driver gunned the engine, throwing the vehicle into low gear for traction. The wheels spun underneath them, and the back vibrated with the spinning of the axles.

Peter slid over to the slits and peeked outside. He only saw its tail. The T. rex was alongside them, between the armored truck and the river. Peter darted to one of the side windows, Tracey behind him. Nielsen looked out of the other side window. Marcy curled into a ball on the floor, too terrified to look and praying the monster outside would go away.

The T. rex shook its head, like a wet dog trying to dry off. It swept its head back and forth, sizing up the strange, solid prey. It lifted its massive right leg and pinned the hood of the truck with its claws. The driver hit the gas, and the Humvee tried to heave forward, but the weight of the enormous, clawed foot drove the tires deeper into the mud. The truck’s frame groaned under the weight of the theropod.

“We need to get out of here,” cried Tracey.

“We’re safe as long as we’re in the truck,” declared Nielsen. “He can’t get us in here.”

Collins got on his radio, calling for backup. “Chief to base, come in base.” There was static on the line. “Chief to base, come in base.” This time they heard fragments of words. “Damned island.”

The T. rex nipped at the front of the vehicle, its teeth crunching down on metal. Peter heard the driver cursing up front. The vehicle bounced on its suspension as the tyrannosaur pressed down on it with its foot. The tires blew from the pressure as the truck sank into the mud.

“Great,” muttered Collins. “Now we’re stuck.”