The dark shape of the creature beyond was gone.
A few moments went by and Cuthbert felt the hinges of his sanity begin to loosen. Then, in a flicker of lightning through the clerestory, Cuthbert clearly saw the beast moving swiftly along the near wall, coming directly toward him, its red eyes fixed on his face.
He swung the barrel and began firing wildly, three quick shots, each white flash illuminating rack upon rack of dark skulls, teeth and claws—the real beast suddenly lost in this wilderness of savage extinct creatures—and then the gun was clicking as the hammer fell harmlessly on the expended chambers.
As if from a half-remembered dream, Cuthbert heard the distant sound of human voices, coming from the direction of Wright’s old lab. And suddenly he was running, heedless of obstacles, through the ruined door, through Wright’s lab, and into the dark corridor beyond. He heard himself screaming, and then a spotlight was shining in his face and somebody grabbed him and pinned him against a wall.
“Calm down, you’re all right! Look, there’s blood on him!”
“Get the gun away from him,” someone else said.
“Is he the one we’re after?”
“No, they said an animal. But don’t take any chances.”
“Stop struggling!”
Another scream rose in Cuthbert’s throat. “It’s back there!” he cried. “It’ll kill you all! It knows, you can see in its eyes that it knows!”
“Knows what?”
“Don’t bother talking to him, he’s raving.” Cuthbert suddenly went limp.
The Commander came forward. “Is there anyone else back there?” he asked, shaking Cuthbert’s shoulder.
“Yes,” Cuthbert finally said. “Wright. Rickman.”
The Commander looked up.
“You mean Winston Wright? The Director of the Museum? You must be Dr. Cuthbert, then. Where is Wright?”
“It was eating him,” said Cuthbert, “eating the brains. Just eating and eating. It’s in the Dinosaur Hall, through the lab there.”
“Take him back to the Hall and have the medics evacuate him,” said the Commander to two members of his team. “You three, let’s go. On the double.” He raised his radio. “Red One to Dugout. We’ve located Cuthbert, and we’re sending him out.”
“They’re in this laboratory, here,” said the spotter, pointing at the blueprints. Now that the penetration was complete and the team was deep inside the Museum, the two had moved inside the mobile command unit, away from the hammering rain.
“The lab’s clear,” the Commander’s monotone came over the radio. “Proceeding into the Dinosaur Hall. This other door’s been broken down, too.”
“Go in and take that thing out!” cried Coffey. “But watch out for Dr. Wright. And keep a clear frequency. I want to be in touch at all times!”
Coffey waited, tensed over the set, hearing the faint hiss and crackle of the static over the open frequency. He heard the clink of a weapon and a few whispers.
“Smell that?” Coffey leaned closer. They were almost there. He gripped the edge of the table.
“Yup,” a voice answered.
There was a rattling.
“Kill the light and stay in the shadows. Red Seven, cover the left side of that skeleton. Red Three, go right. Red Four, get your back to the wall, cover the far sector.
There was a long silence. Coffey could hear heavy breathing and faint footfalls.
He heard a sudden explosive whisper. “Red Four, look, there’s a body here.”
Coffey felt his stomach tighten.
“No head,” he heard. “Nice.”
“Here’s another one,” whispered a voice. “See it? Lying in that group of dinosaurs.”
More clicking and rattling of weapons, more breathing.
“Red Seven, cover our path of retreat. There’s no other way out.”
“It may still be here,” someone whispered.
“That’s far enough, Red Four.”
Coffey’s knuckles whitened. Why the fuck didn’t they get it over with? These guys were a bunch of old women.
More rattling of metal.
“Something’s moving! Over there!” The voice was so loud Coffey jumped, and then a burst of automatic weapons fire dissolved immediately into static as the frequency overloaded.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Coffey began saying, over and over. Then for an instant he could hear screaming, and then more static; the even cadence of machine-gun fire; then, silence. The tinkling sound of something—what? Shattered dinosaur bones dropping and rolling on the marble floor?
Coffey felt a flood of relief. Whatever it was, it was dead. Nothing could have survived the shitload of firepower just unloaded. The nightmare was finally over. He eased himself down in a chair.
“Red Four! Hoskins! Oh shit!” the voice of the Commander screamed over the frequency. The voice was suddenly buried by the staccato of gunfire, then more static. Or was it a scream?
Coffey surged to his feet and turned to an agent standing behind him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He read his own terror in the agent’s eyes.