Jurassic War by John W. Dennehy

Author:John W. Dennehy [Dennehy , John W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severed Press
Published: 2019-10-01T22:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Nine

Peterson peered over the shoulders of the marines in the column ahead of him. Scanning for any sign of trouble, he focused on the way forward. Rain doused them again.

A snap from a brittle twig resonated from the right.

He knew instinctively that he’d let his guard down. Pivoting, he raised his pistol and peered through the downpour. Something slithered through the bush. A pungent stench of decaying meat wafted through the jungle.

“Right!” He stepped out of formation.

The rest of the marines fell into a wedge formation, with oblique lines running from each side of the lieutenant. Marines shouldered their weapons and tried to discern and gauge the danger. He traced the creature’s movement with the barrel of his pistol.

“Where is it?” This from Private First Class Goode.

“Back in the underbrush.” Peterson shook the Colt. “About ten paces from me.”

“Still can’t see it.” Goode took a step forward.

And the comment registered with Peterson. The dinosaur lingered in the shadows, trying not to be detected, but lying in wait, as if seeking the opportune moment to pounce. A low forehead and long jawline ended with an upturned snout. Its greenish hide was covered in horizontal black stripes. Camouflaged in the jungle, it sized them up for a kill.

“Everyone stay put,” Peterson commanded.

“I see it now.” Goode took another step closer.

“Hold on—”

As the words slipped from his mouth, all hell broke loose. Someone screeched from behind. Rotating towards the commotion, Peterson realized they were being stalked by another dinosaur.

Private Hall stood at the end of the line with a Velociraptor latched on his right arm.

The predator churned its legs into the stomach of the marine, and a massive sickle-shaped claw, attached to each foot, ripped into his viscera, spilling his guts onto the soggy ground. Steam drifted from the organs as he screamed in agony.

Hall’s rifle discharged and caused the dinosaur to pause. It glanced around in confusion.

A moment was all Private Elliot needed to spin around and train his 7.62 millimeter Browning Automatic Rifle on the carnivore. Hall’s knees buckled, and he dropped to the deck. Letting rip with the Browning, rounds dug into the Raptor. It wailed and writhed.

The Velociraptor released its prey and alighted to the saturated pathway.

Staggering to keep balance, the dinosaur lurched towards Elliot, as blood oozed from the bullet holes in its hide.

Another wail of pain echoed from Peterson’s right; a third Raptor was on Goode.

They hunt in packs, Peterson concluded. His realization came too late.

Rapid footsteps approached from behind him. Spinning, he came around just in time to face the Velociraptor from the bush, running headlong into him.

Peterson was knocked to the deck.

The meat eater sprung on him. Jaws snapping and devilish eyes, the threat lay at the end of its feet. A claw dug into his thigh. Peterson raised his pistol and fired three times. Bullets penetrated the Raptor’s fleshy neck. It reeled back and yowled in pain.

Crimson streaks ran down its neck. The dinosaur hissed and flailed about, trying desperately to shake off the pain.

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