Age of Monsters by John Schneider (books to read for self improvement .TXT) 📗

vantage point – another broken overpass – where he could take the lay of the land.

Motioning to keep low, he waved the others forward, to where they could all see.

On the not-far-off horizon, it seemed the giants had not gone after all.

Rosa recognized the giant Carcharodont from before – its stuporous, zombie-like daze was now joined by others – carnosaurs, ceratopsians, sauropods – they all seemed to be moving in a loose pack – a slow, lumbering gait that was taking them outside the city.

Like a flock, Rosa wondered?  She'd heard dinosaurs were related to birds.

Of course, there was also that glowing in the eyes, and Rosa wondered instead if it was more likely simply another stage of the mental deterioration – indeed, the giant beasts almost seemed to sway.

She had seen a rabid dog once – it had been in the later stages of the disease – gasping, snarling, spitting, stumbling – barely able to walk.

These beasts were not yet there, but they were getting there.

This was the most dangerous stage – while they were still physically firing on all cylinders.

Yet, they didn't seem to be reacting to each other – and, in fact, seemed to be moving as one accord.

Lucas scanned the procession, focusing in on the big Carcharodont in the lead.

“Looks like they're leaving,” he said.

He zoomed in on the leader.

“And look who's catching a free ride,” he said, handing the binoculars to Rosa.

Rosa looked to where he was pointing and saw the big Carcharodont was packing a load of those little scavenger lizards – just as she had seen before – only a lot more of them this time.  Apparently, when they ran out of human corpses, they ate bugs and maggots out of the skin of their still-living cousins.

She handed the binoculars back.  “So,” she said, “what now?”

Lucas pulled out his hat and set it backwards on his head, turning back towards the others.

“We follow,” he said.

Chapter 18

Jonah had been drifting in and out of bleary semi-consciousness for a while now.

Trapped in the immobility of a dream, he thought he could hear sounds – the screech of flying dragons – maybe even the roar of approaching beasts.

These sounds were mildly worrisome, and he had been idly thinking he should get up soon and do something about it – maybe even open his eyes a little – just not quite yet.

He must have faded back out again, because now he started awake.

Something had tickled his nose, and he heard a voice say, “Yeah.  This guy's comin' around.  He's alive.”

Jonah opened his eyes to find a shotgun tapping him gently on the face.

He snapped fully awake, but froze stone-still as the barrel now pressed against his cheek.

“You just keep still,” the man holding the gun said.

Jonah looked around, blinking the crusted blood out of his eyes.

The first thing he was aware of was the Manson-style, hippie-van pulled up to the crash site – evidently, the property of the three men holding guns on them.  The one who had spoken had his shotgun aimed through the chopper's broken window.

The other two had their guns on Naomi.  She had apparently already crawled free – or perhaps been thrown clear of the crashed chopper.  And apparently right into a hold-up.

Jonah remembered the chopper catching on one of the big trees as they had crashed – that was his last recollection – but as he looked around, he realized the tree itself had been taken down, along with two others, stretched out across an old mountain road.

The van had just happened along – opportunistic scavengers.

The shotgun tapped his nose again.  “Step out slowly, mister.”

One of the other men kicked at the wreck of the helicopter, laughing to the man with the gun on Jonah.

“Hey, Terry, these two tried to fly a chopper out.”

'Terry' was shaking his head.

“Damned fools, aren't ya?” he said.  “Don't you know it's damned dangerous to fly around these parts?  I must have seen a dozen choppers go down.  Those bloody-damn flying lizards'll swarm all over ya.”

He nodded at the downed aircraft.  “Planes are harder to catch,” he said.  “But, boy they go after choppers.”

Naomi shot Jonah a look – he had personally sold her on taking the chopper.

The third man prodded her with his rifle.

“Hands up lady.”

Slowly, looking at him like a maggot she'd just discovered on a garbage can lid, Naomi raised her hands.

As she did so, the gun-holster on her hip became visible.

The man nodded.  “I'm gonna be needing that gun.”

Naomi's head tilted mildly.  “You aren't going to get it,” she said.

Jonah had managed to extricate himself from the mangled chopper, and was running his hands over every bone, looking for potential breaks.  He actually couldn't believe he wasn't hurt worse.  The windshield glass had shattered, but tree-limbs had caught the scattered shrapnel of the propellers – and the collapsing evergreens had broken their fall.  It was near-miraculous that they were alive.

And now these three assholes...

Naomi wasn't helping.

The man with the gun blustered.  “I ain't kidding, lady.”

Naomi smiled sweetly.  Her reply involved his mother, farm animals, and a whorehouse.

At that point, Jonah started to interject – not sure yet what he might say after that – but then a sudden bellow echoed through the canyon.

Along with it, came an answering tremor in the ground.

Of course, a rumble in the ground was nothing new – it was a volcanic region, after all – Jonah was always hearing reports about how the Cascades could blow at any time – just like L.A. and the long-promised 'Big One' they kept saying was practically guaranteed, courtesy of the San Andres Fault.

But of course, this was no earthquake.  Jonah could tell perfectly well what