The Red Quarry #8
Noah lowered himself against the cage wall.
Blood had reopened around his left ankle. The bite marks had widened where the dinosaur dragged him.
Mara knelt.
“I need to wrap it.”
He took the torn cloth from her.
“I can.”
She released it.
He tightened the bandage himself.
Her hands were cut from the cable. Blood ran from both palms.
Noah looked at them.
“You should wrap those.”
“Yes.”
She did.
The elevator climbed through darkness.
At some point, the satellite phone in Mara’s pocket found a signal.
It began beeping.
She turned it on.
One bar appeared.
She dialed emergency services.
A voice answered.
Mara tried to explain.
She gave the property name, the road, the number of dead, and the injuries.
When the dispatcher asked what attacked them, Mara looked at the severed head hanging from the cable.
“Animals.”
“What kind of animals?”
Mara closed her eyes.
“Send everyone.”
The elevator reached the surface.
The doors opened into predawn light.
Cold air entered the cage.
Mara and Noah stepped around the suspended head.
The upper loading building stood empty.
Their badges opened the administration doors.
The photographs still hung along the hallway.
The technicians remained gathered around the cracked egg.
Noah stopped.
A sentence had been written in black marker beneath the frame. Reflected light had hidden it earlier.
WE TAUGHT THEM TO FOLLOW.
Mara looked at the words.
Then at Noah.
He did not touch the glass.
They crossed the guardhouse.
The monitor showed several blue dots.
Three moved with Mara.
Her own badge.
Bell’s.
Jules’s.
Nadia’s signal had stopped inside the elevator, either damaged by blood or left near the confirmation panel.
Noah’s dot moved beside hers.
Red indicators crossed the quarry below.
The russet animal.
The triceratops.
At least one other adult still inside the habitat sectors.
Mara entered the gate code.
The exterior fence rolled open.
They reached the truck.
Noah leaned against the driver’s door.
“Keys.”
Mara searched her pocket.
“You cannot drive with that ankle.”
“The left one’s injured.”
“You need both legs.”
“The truck is automatic.”
“You can barely walk.”
“I can sit.”
Mara looked at the road.
Then at him.
He held out his hand.
She placed the keys in it.
The equipment trailer remained attached.
Noah limped to the hitch.
Mara started after him.
He glanced back.
She stopped.
He disconnected the safety chains, released the coupler, and left the trailer beside the gate.
It took him longer than it would have taken her.
She stayed where she was.
Noah climbed behind the wheel.
Mara entered the passenger side.
He started the engine.
For several seconds, his hands remained on the steering wheel.
“You can change your mind,” Mara said.
He looked at her.
“Can I?”
“Yes.”
“And you won’t use it against me later?”
Mara considered the question.
“No.”
A small smile appeared and vanished.
“That may be the nicest thing you’ve said all day.”
They drove through the open gate.
The access road descended along the quarry rim.
Morning light touched the highest cliffs while the pit remained dark.
At the first switchback, Noah stopped.
Something stood in the road.
For one instant, Mara thought it was Rina.
Then the figure lowered its head.
Russet feathers covered the shoulders.
Blood darkened the muzzle.
One of Rina’s sleeves hung from its teeth.
The dinosaur dropped the fabric.
Behind it, the gate stood open.
Noah shifted into reverse.
Mara looked at the narrow road behind them.
The equipment trailer blocked part of the entrance.
The dinosaur crouched.
Noah said, “Tell me.”
Mara looked at him.
He was not asking permission.
He wanted the decision shared.
“Drive through it.”
The truck surged forward.
The animal ran toward them.
It leaped.
Its body struck the hood.
The windshield collapsed inward.
Claws tore through the roof above Mara.
The dinosaur’s jaws snapped beside Noah’s face.
He did not release the accelerator.
The truck struck the quarry wall.
The animal rolled sideways and fell beneath the front wheel.
Noah reversed.
The tire crossed its chest.
Ribs collapsed under the truck.
The dinosaur shrieked once.
Noah drove forward again.
The left wheel rolled over the skull.
The truck dropped with a wet crunch.
He stopped.
Steam rose from the damaged hood.
The russet dinosaur lay behind them.
One leg kicked against the road.
Then became still.
Noah stared through the broken windshield.
“You told me to drive through it.”
“Yes.”
“That was irresponsible.”
“Yes.”
He began laughing.
Mara laughed with him.
The cuts across her back pulled open. Her ribs hurt. The laughter became crying without either of them deciding when it changed.
They remained in the wrecked truck until county workers arrived.
The first man approached carrying a road flare.
He looked at the crushed animal behind them.
“Did you hit an elk?”
Noah turned toward Mara.
She looked past the worker, toward the gate above the quarry.
The automated system had begun closing it.
“No,” she said.
Deep inside the red quarry, a handler’s whistle called the surviving animals home.