Age of Monsters John Schneider (digital book reader TXT) 📖

rex did not think things over – it responded to stimuli – and whatever it was, it activated that buzzing kernel that was just beginning to gnaw at its simple mind.

After a seeming moment of reflection, the rex began to walk.

Respectfully, the Earth shook in its steps as the Tyrant King under the Mountain left the basin behind.

Almost as a group, the other rex moved in, swarming on the relinquished pile of meat, and began to tear away massive chomping bites, like a school of Great Whites stripping blubber from a dead whale.

After another moment, the 'normals' began to sneak in from the perimeter, picking at the long neck and tail that stretched beyond the reach of their giant, rage-infected fellows.

The massive corpse of the sauropod began to disappear at a remarkable rate, as even the bones were consumed – a gluttonous feeding-frenzy that continued well into the night.

When the morning came, less than a third of a corpse was left behind.

In the basin, the predators slept off their over-indulgent debauchery – snoring, belching.

And as they lay in decadent slumber, the green glow of the Food of the Gods glinted through their slitted eyes.

Chapter 11

Rosa had never met anyone quite like Lieutenant Lucas Walker.

That by itself was not so unusual – she had lived on campus for ten years – her jobs had been in the immediate local community – bartender and waitress – something sufficiently demeaning to subsist on, as she worked her way through school, and ran her student loans up into the National Debt.  Rosa's contacts with the military had been drunken furloughs at the bars, trolling for women.

Either that or her forays into the third-world, cleaning up after them after they blew one town or another to bits.

Much to Rosa's irritation – and Jeremy's as well – Nurse Julie had been fawning over the handsome Lieutenant since the moment they'd led him down to their shattered shelter – with Lucas deliberately bouncing on his damaged foot as they descended the stairs.  Julie had gone to work on his every scratch and abrasion.

Mildly amused, Lucas tolerated her indulgently.

The others had gathered 'round like cave-dwellers – Lucas was the first contact with the outside since it all began.

Rosa could see him taking professional note of the shell-shocked eyes staring back – the coffee-girl, Jamie, sat huddled, clutching her own knees to her chest like a stuffed animal – the young kid in the security badge showing way too much upper eye.

And of course at least one of them had to be pregnant – Rosa saw Lucas' eyes pause on Allison – just as Rosa's own had that very first day.  This was followed by a quick appraisal of Bud, as the man looking after her.

Tactical assessment complete, he turned to Rosa, identifying her as tribal head.

“How long have you all been here?” he asked.

“Twelve days,” Rosa said.  “Where the hell were you?”

Lucas raised an arched eyebrow, smiling dryly.  “Jeez.  You sound like my wife.”

“You're married?” Julie asked, crestfallen.

Lucas smiled gently.  “Very,” he said.

Rosa glanced sternly at the young nurse.  She, herself, had noticed his tagged ring-finger right away – something that came with experience – and certainly nothing to do with any reflexive attraction on her part – just as it was only as a medical professional that she had noticed the near-perfect physique of the almost quintessential alpha-male – muscles cut with a chisel – MMA-style tattoos sleeved down both arms.  And even with two days beard-growth, he presented that cut of military cleanness – absent the sloppiness she always associated with frat guys.

There was also his blatantly chauvinist good-nature – Rosa was irritated to find herself responding to it, just like some bimbo-brained cheerleader.

She reminded herself, this was one of the ones she was mad at.

“Lieutenant Walker,” she began...

“Don't be so formal,” Lucas cut in.  “You can call me 'sir'.”

He offered up a big, cheeky, excruciatingly-confident grin.

“Oh, come on,” he said.  “Just once.  I wanna hear how it sounds coming from you.”

For a moment, Rosa actually had the impulse to hit him – for all the nearly cauterized-emotional patience her job's discipline required, she actually felt her hands curling into fists.

Then she looked down at her own pampered doctor's hands next to his rocked-hide.  As if she could hurt him with a baseball bat, let alone her knuckles.

Maybe she could stomp on his broken foot.  Or yank out a couple of his stitches.

“Okay,” Rosa said, icily, “Sir...,”

Lucas’ brows raised.

“Brrrr,” he said.  “That was pretty good.  Scary.”

He learned forward as if with new interest.

“What was your name again, ma'am?”

“Rosa,” she said.  “Call me Doctor Holland.”

Lucas grinned.

“So,” Rosa said, “where the hell have you people been?”

“Well,” Lucas said, sitting up attentively, “WE – and I'm using the royal 'WE' – have been in LA.  And Chicago.  And in New York.  And personally, I've been right here.”

“Dropping bombs on us,” Rosa said.  “So the military's plan was just to let us die?”

Lucas smiled patiently.  “Ma'am, I don't think you understand.  We lost in LA.  And Chicago and New York.  And in case you missed it, I got my ass kicked right here.  And while we were trying to save all these places, a LOT of other spots – all full of people waiting to get rescued – all got left to burn.”

He tossed a piece of the surrounding rubble dismissively.

“Or got stomped flat.”

“San Fran,” he said, “got off easy.  You had us right here on-site.  And we still got our asses kicked.”

New York, Rosa thought – LA. and Chicago – those were questions she hadn't been asking yet.

While she was working up the nerve, Bud asked for her.

“What's been happening up there?”

Lucas eyed him seriously, and