Masterson began chuckling, and Chuck looked in amazement at this man whose emotions could range from seething hatred to jocularity in the space of ten seconds. “This gun could fell a charging elephant, Spencer,” he said, holding out his weapon.
“These aren’t elephants,” Owen said. “A stegosaur has more armor than a heavy tank!”
Masterson smiled charmingly. “I’ve stopped tanks in my time, too, Spencer. Just watch me.” He turned crisply, striding away from the jeep, heading back for the truck with long steps.
“He’s crazy,” Chuck blurted. “He’s absolutely out of his mind!”
The truck started, lurching forward over the ground to a low, flat clearing that edged on the feeding stegosaurs. One of the beasts glanced up as the truck approached, its huge spiked tail flicking heavily to one side, thumping against a thick cycad. Then it lowered its head and continued to nibble at the low shrubbery.
The truck crept to within fifty feet of the herd, while Arthur cautiously guided the jeep behind it. Still, the stegosaurs paid no attention to the intruders. Their jagged, arching backs jutted up grotesquely over the vegetation like animated stone walls, but they continued to feed calmly.
The truck stopped, and Masterson climbed out of the cab, the thick plants beginning some ten feet from where he stood on the flatland. Chuck heard an ominous click as Masterson shoved a shell into the chamber. There was another click as the safety catch yielded to Masterson’s thumb. Masterson fell to one knee, his head cocked, the gun in firing position.
The shot bellowed into the afternoon silence like the roar of a wounded giant. It echoed from the trees, spread over the rocks, carried its message of lethal doom to anything that heard and anything that would listen.
Chuck felt his fingernails bite into his palms. He didn’t take his gaze from the stegosaurs. He saw one of the animals lift its head and stare around stupidly. Owen was almost upon Masterson now.
“You double-plated idiot!” he shouted.
Masterson didn’t look up. He triggered off another fast shot. This time he hit his target.
A terrifying bellow split the air. It tore at the nerves and splintered the silence. It was the very essence of primitiveness. It was a bellow of sheer, raw pain. It stifled the senses like the cry of a madman in a padded cell. Chuck saw one of the stegosaurs lift its head quickly, the gigantic tail lashing out like a spiked, bloated bull-whip.
“I hit him!” Masterson shouted. “I hit him!”
“Get back to the truck, you fool!” Owen said.
Gardel was leaning out of the cab, his eye pressed to the telescopic sight on his own gun. Pete had climbed into the front of the truck and was sitting behind the wheel. He winced, pulling his head between his shoulders, as Gardel’s gun added its thunder to Masterson’s.
The stegosaurs turned away from their food now, their small heads coming up, their bodies turning ponderously as the shots spattered around them. The ground erupted in showery cascades of mud and vegetation as the heavy slugs ripped into it. Another reptile bellowed in pain, and Gardel shouted exultantly from the cab of the truck.
And then it started.
It was almost imperceptible at first. It was as if all the reptiles had suddenly decided to shift their position at once. They turned slowly like comedians in a dead-pan routine, their powerful tails swinging around, their humped backs bobbing like ships on a sea of vegetation. They began to move forward slowly. They kept their heads low. Their ridiculously short legs stamped on the ferns. They moved like an outlandish football team struggling for a first down or a group of drunken lumberjacks staggering down out of the mountains. But they moved with purpose-a dim, primitive purpose spawned in a group of infinitesimal brains. Something was troubling them. They must defend themselves against this something.
Masterson shrieked in delight as the beasts began moving out of the shrubbery toward the clearing. Owen tugged at his arm, but Masterson shoved him aside angrily. He raised the rifle, fired rapidly, then reloaded and continued to trigger off shot after shot into the herd.
The stegosaurs moved deceptively. What appeared
The crack of Masterson’s high-powered rifle sounded small and ineffective in the thunderstorm of the huge reptiles’ hoofs.