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

for all.  There would be little resistance this time.

More sickle-claws were venturing from the brush.  The little pack of Ottos continued to squawk and howl.

So intent were they, however, that they failed to notice the shadow in the brush behind them.

The rex was a big rogue – nearly fourteen meters long and approaching nine tons.  But it could still move with surprising stealth when it chose to.

It had learned to sneak up on these little scavengers – they with their psychic-stench.

He didn't even usually bother to eat them – just stomped them out like fire ants.

It was actually rather therapeutic – just like popping insulation bubbles.

The pack of Ottos screeched and fled, even as the rex's foot came down, smashing the pack of them flat.

Then it wiped its foot disgustedly on the forest floor.

It HATED those little bastards.

Now the rex turned its attention to the gargantuan carcass and the sickle-claws that were now staring doubtfully down from its back.

The rex let out a low, rumbling growl, and the sickle-claws scattered.

Satisfied, the big rogue settled down and began to feed.

At the edge of the forest, another small troop of Ottos emerged.

The little creatures stared up balefully.  The rex eyed them right back – just like another pack of insulation bubbles.

The Ottos hissed and shrieked, and the rex felt that sense of static shock – that pepper-spray in the sinus.

The big rex snorted a brief sneeze of irritation.

Then it rose to its full height, growling dangerously – and now its eyes had begun to glow emerald green.

The little creatures turned and disappeared into the forest.

The End

Read on for a free sample of The Valley of Tooth & Claw

PROLOGUE

Gunfire, harsh and sporadic, punctuated the darkness; the unmistakable staccato rhythm shattering the night’s otherwise calm façade. Myriad weapons blazed to life in a flurry of yellow-orange bursts, bullets proceeding to zip through the humid air! The resulting storm saw a host of debris scatter to the wind as volley after volley of piping-hot metal shredded the undergrowth caught in its path. Added to this were the panicked cries of men which only magnified the already hellish din permeating the area… as too did the monstrous shrieks of their assailants; ungodly screeches that seemed to meet somewhere between a bird of prey and some kind of serpent.

Caught in the midst of this chaos, Mateo Hernandez cut through the jungle like a bat out of Hades, his normally tan complexion reddened by the effort of his unexpected retreat. Sweat gushed from the fleeing man’s pores, the salty liquid streaming in rivulets down his terrified features. Vines and branches whipped at his plump and youthful face, lashing out like demons’ claws as he stole through the suffocating collection of foliage.

Heart pounding almost out of control, Mateo’s dark eyes, wide with terror, searched the shadowy world for some way out of his bloody nightmare. All the while, to his aft, the gunfire and screams continued unabated, the hectic reprise near-deafening. Mateo’s thoughts momentarily switched to that of his wife and two children back in Chile. But not for long. The maddening cacophony to his rear very quickly redirected his thoughts back to the here and now.

Stay focused! he told himself, chest heaving and lungs burning.

Grounded in the present once more, Mateo’s mind struggled to process that which he had witnessed mere minutes before. That being said, Mr. Hernandez wasn’t sure he could even call himself a witness to any of it. After all, the man really only caught glimpses of his group’s ambushers. On top of that, the sight of those monsters˗ fleeting as it was˗ ultimately proved enough to send him to flight. In his mind’s eye, the scaled, reptilian forms of his assailants seemed to emerge effortlessly from the dark ether, their long, tapered tails whipping frenetically behind them. Without warning, the ravenous creatures shed the jungle like an old skin, descending upon Mateo and the other workers with a deadly array of sickle-shaped claws and razor-sharp fangs! Most terrifying of all, he remembered how the beasts’ yellow-green cat-like eyes seemed to shine amidst the gloom, haunting in their primal intensity.

In the end, the company’s small band of hired guns proved no match for the devilish things which called this jungle home. With the speed and efficiency of cheetahs, the marauders dispatched the guards in twos and threes, before then turning on the unarmed workers scattering throughout the small encampment.

Demons… Mateo thought to himself. Only demons could move like that.

Pressing further into the darkened rainforest, the gunfire behind him gradually began to dwindle… as did the bloodcurdling cries of his unfortunate colleagues. Although, they never fully died away. Ultimately, the horrid mixture of these sounds became a kind of macabre soundtrack to his panicked retreat. If only for a second, Mateo felt his anxiety lessen on account of the reduced noise. The young man prayed he had somehow managed to put enough distance between himself and his group’s attackers. Yet, something in Mateo told him this was unlikely. Still, he could hope.

Out of breath, he panted desperately for air, eventually slowing to a jog. His overalls were soaked with sweat now. Before long, Mateo was engaged in a rushed walk as he tried to get his bearings; an almost impossible task in this world of midnight. It was then Mateo realized that the bush around him was simply too quiet. There were no birds or insects in attendance, at least that he could hear, anyway.

Perhaps the gunfire frightened them? he pondered the peculiar silence for a moment.

Whatever the cause of the deathly quiet, it unsettled the young man to no end. The hairs rose along the back of his neck, a chill tracing the petrified man’s spine. Fear quickly returning, Hernandez’s eyes scanned the gloomy scene warily, terrified by