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danced madly in the street, pawing at the bleeding socket, which was blackening like a prizefighter’s, and starting to swell shut.

But Congo was badly wounded.  His right arm was clutched tightly to his side, nearly useless, tendons and muscles completely severed, perhaps bone as well.

Blood splashed the streets at his feet.  As Congo moved, the wound yawned.

It was enough, he realized, to kill him.

But he knew he was already dying.  That's what the Food of the Gods did.

The rex was already advancing again, glaring at his longtime rival with his one good eye.

If this were merely a hunt, now would be the time to sit back and wait for the wound to do its work, letting the prey expire on its own.

But this was personal.  So the rex stepped forward menacingly – albeit with a touch of caution, blinking his damaged eye – an experienced killer who knew a wounded prey was the most dangerous.

Still, Big Rex sensed he had scored a telling blow and that his opponent was fading.

As he retreated, Congo again found his back pressed against the tower wall.  He looked up over his shoulder, where he could still sense Shanna somewhere up above.

He could feel her fear.

Worse, he could sense that nasal stench as well.

Otto – somewhere near.

No doubt it was egging Big Rex on as well.

Congo, however, still had his mind.

He pitched the trailer at the advancing tyrannosaur's face.  And by happenstance or good aim, it struck the already-injured eye.

The rex turned away, stamping its feet, roaring in pain – for a brief window, fully distracted and vulnerable.

But Congo was beyond counterattacks.  In the seconds before the rex rounded back in angry pursuit, the big ape turned to the tower behind him and began to climb.

The rex realized Congo's escape a moment too late.  The big tyrannosaur charged, striking the building, its jaws snapping shut mere yards from Congo's retreating foot.

Big Rex smashed his head against the tower, roaring in frustration.  The foundation shook.

Reinforced or not, the structure wasn't going to last much longer.

Shanna was somewhere above, and Otto was up there with her.

Keeping his injured arm tucked at his side, Congo climbed.

Chapter 36

Shanna could hear the sickle-claws coming up fast.

The service ladder took her to a small platform leading out onto the roof.  The doorway, however, was locked.  Shanna cursed under her breath – only in a government building did you get locks going in and out.

Shanna glanced over the railing.  The nearest of her pursuers were less than two floors below.

She had never seen this kind of coordinated behavior before.  Dromaeosaurs weren't particularly smart animals – just bone-deep evil.

But she knew the answer, even as she again felt that throb of pressure in her skull.

There was a jolt of pain, but now Shanna was ready for it.  She flexed back – and that's really what it felt like – straining a muscle.

As if in response, a warbling hooting echoed in the corridor, as the sickle-claws all catcalled out together.

The first of them made the leap, catching the access ladder deftly, like a squirrel.

In another moment, it would be standing on the platform next to her.

But then the building itself was rocked, accompanied by a crescendo of savage roars and bellows from out on the street.

The sickle-claw perched precariously on the ladder was knocked loose, tumbling nearly fifty feet before snagging its claws along the wall, and arresting its fall.

Without missing a beat, it began climbing again.

Apparently oblivious as the tower itself shook around them, two more sickle-claws leaped for the platform, one catching the wall just below, and clinging like a spider.

The second caught the railing, and like a giant crow, hopped up on the platform beside her.

Shanna knew her life could be counted in seconds.

Then the roof above her was suddenly torn away.

Concrete and rubble tumbled past, bouncing down the narrow shaft as the rooftop was peeled like a sardine can.

Congo peered in from above.

The sickle-claw screeched, but instead of fleeing, it moved on Shanna, claws up.

Congo's massive paw reached down, squashing the clawed beast like a bug.

Shanna looked up at the giant ape's glowing green eyes, even as she saw the terrible wound the rex had left across his shoulder.

She could feel his pain.

“Oh, Congo,” she said, touching his hand.  “I'm so sorry.”

The building shook again, and now Shanna felt herself snatched-up bodily.

Congo cradled her in his giant paw as he leaped from the tower to the top of the next building over.

There was a loud and angry objection below from Big Rex.

Congo hooted down from the neighboring rooftop.

With a roar, the rex charged, even as Congo turned to retreat.

Tucking Shanna in the crook of his injured arm, the giant ape leaped from rooftop to rooftop, straddling the New York skyline like a cat running along adjoining fences.

In the streets below, Big Rex followed.

Shanna clung to Congo's fur as she felt herself flying through the cold night air.

She could clearly see their destination – the Wall Street district of lower Manhattan, and the single tallest structure in the city.

Once it had been the World Trade Center, but it had been destroyed, ushering in a new era of violence and hate.

The twin towers had given way to a single monument – a steeple that once again dominated the city.

Perhaps in keeping with the dangerous new era, the original name 'Freedom Tower' was replaced with the rather more ominous 'One World' Tower.

But whatever the name, it was the highest spot in the city, and Congo was still, at his heart, a mountain gorilla.  As his wound bled him dry and the chemical continued to eat at his brain, he went where he felt safe – as high up as he could get.

With the rex in hot-pursuit, Congo leaped from the neighboring spires, catching the tower at its lower floors and began to climb.

In the square below, Big Rex crashed into the building's base.

Shanna felt the impact, even as Congo scaled the tower, cresting quickly to the top, clinging with his one

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