“Yes, sir!” Everyone replied in unison.
“Good.” The Jun-i nodded, pleased. “If they get through our lines, then you soldiers riding on the truck will retreat to the fuel dumps. And the soldiers on foot and bicycle will fall back and protect the garrison.”
The formation fell into silence. Some fidgeted and appeared to have questions for the warrant officer, but they remained reticent, afraid to draw a harsh response.
“Some of you might be thinking about our comrade who got dragged off by the beast.”
Most of them nodded to affirm their concern. Tanaka noted fear in their eyes, as though they were more scared of the creatures than the Americans. Others registered sorrow for the soldier’s loss, and perhaps concern for his soul.
“When the battle is over, we will regroup and find his remains. So he can be honored with his ancestors. Every fallen solider will be treated accordingly.”
The warrant officer’s words resonated with the troops. Relief spread across their faces. Tanaka realized their fear did not concern death by the Americans or the dinosaurs, but rather apprehension of being dragged off and forgotten, with no way to flourish in the afterlife. The Jun-i’s comment reassured everyone that the Imperial Army would ensure their remains would be found and dignified, honored.
Then the Jun-i climbed into the scout car, an all-wheel drive Kurogane Type-95. He took the passenger seat and a solider slid behind the wheel. The Yonki raced off down the road.
Soldiers from Tanaka’s unit piled into the rear of the transport, taking up positions on bench seats running along both sides of the truck. When the men were packed into the truck, Osamu climbed inside and took the last spot near the tailgate.
Tanaka shut the gate and climbed into the front passenger seat. A soldier jumped on the running board by his door, and another slid behind the wheel.
The truck grumbled to life and pulled away from the garrison. Various infantrymen plodded along the muddy lane on bicycles with rifles strung across their backs. Others ran down the road carrying their Arisaka rifles at port arms. Rain danced on the canvass top covering the truck bed and pattered off the steel roof of the cab. The transport jostled over the desolate lane as it accelerated and shifted gears.
Tanaka gripped his rifle tightly, readying himself for the convergence with the opposing forces. Glancing out the windshield, he scanned the tree line for menacing yellow eyes, which might lurk among the palm fronds.
Eighteen
Peterson plied his way through the jungle, pushing into dense vegetation. He’d left the T-Rex behind him. A palm frond smacked his right leg, then he felt a sharp, jabbing pain. He looked down. Something greenish had latched onto him.
He shook his leg wildly, but he couldn’t shake it off.
Sharp claws lashed open his utilities and calf muscle. Peterson pointed his pistol at the creature’s head, but the damn thing flailed, so he couldn’t train a bead on it for long. Gritting through the pain, he pressed the barrel into the creature’s chest and pulled the trigger.
Bam! The semi-automatic Colt .45 blasted a round into the beast.
It dropped off Peterson and landed on the jungle floor with a thud. Blood and meat oozed from the gaping wound. The dinosaur stood only a foot tall and measured about three feet from head to tail. A hole bore into its chest and a large cavity appeared in its back. Goop from the creature’s insides had sprayed the foliage.
Peterson’s wounds were superficial. He brushed them off.
Scanning for the large predator, he sensed the atoll had grown still.
The quiet was eerie. Almost too silent.
A row of yellow eyes appeared about five feet away. They were close together and hovered a foot off the ground. More creatures like the one he’d just killed.
Frozen, they were poised to attack, but remained fixed in place, as if trying to decide whether or not to pounce. The creatures stared at him, motionless. Maybe they were looking beyond him.
Trepidation caused his pulse to quicken. Hair raised on the back of his neck.
Something had made the scavengers pause. He sensed another creature.
Peterson slowly turned to see what was behind him.
At first, he discerned nothing but green vegetation. Then, he noticed something large and stout, like a tree or mound of moss-covered earth. He traced the curve upward, until a large set of menacing eyes locked onto his gaze.
He froze like the tiny dinosaurs. Peterson breathed slowly through his nose, trying not to make a sound. Nothing moved. And not a sound emanated from the jungle, not even a bird or a rain drop. Only the sound of Peterson’s heartbeat kept him from slipping into absolute shock. And then, the beast canted its head, as if sniffing the air.
Something had caught its attention. Movement came from the left rear of the creature’s hide. A moment later, the silence was disrupted by pandemonium, as machinegun fire erupted, and bullets riddled the Tyrannosaurus Rex’s scaly backside.
Tomko let rip with his Thompson submachine gun, spitting .45 caliber rounds at the beast from close range. Bullets punched into the thick hide, and the dinosaur reared back its head and let out a menacing roar. Then it stepped toward the provocation, stalking towards its prey, but Tomko stood his ground and kept firing.
Other marines followed his lead, setting up a Browning Automatic Rifle and firing at the creature with their M1 Garand rifles. Peterson ran into the fray and took a position behind the BAR gunner. The heavier machinegun lit up, digging rounds into the creature’s ankles. It halted its pursuit of Tomko.
Meanwhile, infantrymen set up a thin perimeter with riflemen. They aimed at the creature’s eyes and fired carefully from less than 50 feet away.
Bullets plinked off the beast’s snout and aggravated it.
Peterson motioned to the riflemen to fan out. He wanted them to set the perimeter further back. Trained marksmen, they could shoot accurately from 300 to 500 yards, but the jungle would not accommodate such distant shots. Still, he wanted them further away to prevent the creature from killing one of his men. And he wanted to intersperse the Thompson machine gunners among the riflemen to throw down more lead and keep the beast from charging. Their assignment was a seek and destroy mission against the Imperial Army, and not a hunting expedition against a wild, previously thought extinct species.
“Get back!” Peterson yelled, waving his pistol.
Privates Chandler and Davidson caught his command and nodded an affirmative. They called to the others around them, and marines eased back while continuing to lay down fire. Bullets ripped through the jungle, slicing through vegetation.
Leaves were serrated. Small limbs crashed to the ground. But the T-Rex didn’t run from them. It stood its ground, and it considered the situation. Intelligent. Thinking.
A marine did not get the signal to move back. Private Baker stood at the end of the line, firing his Browning until the weapon ran empty. He quickly worked to reload.
The BAR had ceased firing. Peterson waved to the nearest fire team. Another BAR let loose as Private First Class James brought his fire team to the fight.
Suddenly, the dinosaur made its move. It lunged toward Baker reloading. Two swift, massive steps and the T-Rex’s head was above him.
Baker looked up, and its colossal jaws opened wide. Saliva dripped from enormous fangs. As the marine turned to run, the dinosaur’s head whipped downward in a flash and snatched him from the ground. It shook its head back and forth.
Baker’s arms and legs thrashed madly. And then, the dinosaur set its jaws tight, and a fierce crack emanated over the ruckus of the firefight.