A large cage stood slightly apart – its occupant a young, half-grown T-rex. Even though not fully grown, he was still too big for the cage and he roared and bellowed trying to swing his head around and batter his way out. As I watched, a group of men wandered past on their way to somewhere else. One pulled out what looked like a Taser and casually zapped him as they passed. He bellowed and lunged against the bars and they all laughed. I felt my blood turn hot and beside me, Dieter growled.
Further towards the tree line, another group of men were pulling a Hadrosaur from her cage. She was fitted with restraints but they still shouted and poked and prodded her forwards. Not understanding what was happening to her, upset and confused at being separated from her herd, she wailed in distress and fear. Even as we looked, she reared. They jerked the restraint viciously and she twisted awkwardly in mid-air. I heard the crack of a broken bone from all the way up where we were. She crashed heavily to the ground and lay, crying in pain. Someone stepped forward and put a bullet in her brain. Dieter gasped. Suddenly, I liked him a lot. A forklift bustled forward to remove the carcass. Obviously, this had happened before. And still they did it.
Both the T-rex and the dead Hadrosaur had a splodge of green paint on their sides and a red one on their forehead. I looked around and saw some caged animals had the same markings. Was it some sort of classification?
Dieter was describing vehicles and plant, together with lists of power provisions and generators. I set up a live feed back to the pod and tried to identify their security arrangements. There didn’t seem to be any apart from an electrified perimeter fence and a lookout tower by the gate. The whole camp seemed to be built around some large central structure, but the view was obscured.
I was speculating on the origins and purpose of the camp below when Dieter nudged me. ‘Look at that, over there. Does that look like a kind of arena to you? And that’s a funnel. Have you ever seen a salmon run? The fish swim forwards into the funnel and then can’t turn round. This is a dinosaur run. These guys are hunters. They’re going to drive the animals in and shoot them. That’s what those paint marks are. They’re targets. They’re painting targets on dinosaurs; so many points for a red hit and so many for a green. Maybe they even shoot them in the cages. Max, we can’t let this happen. This is so wrong.’
He was right. I could easily imagine the scene; panicking and confused dinosaurs milling around an enclosed space. Depending on the species, some would vainly seek to escape. Others, (the ones for whom I had a sneaky soft spot), would not understand the threat and would make a stand, roaring their challenge and all of them screaming in pain and terror as high-impact bullets or armour-piercing shells tore into them, shredding flesh and bones, as they crashed to the ground in blood and dust while these – tossers – stood in perfect safety, cheered each other on, and called it sport. I remembered that night at the hotel and the Chief telling me about problems from the future. This was why he came back. Suddenly it really was balls to the wall time. Trouble had arrived and it was up to us to deal with it, even if we had only stumbled upon it by accident. I wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t decided to take a techie to work today?
And another thought – was this what Sussman had been protecting? We were at the unexplored northern end. Maybe it was no coincidence he attacked me on that very day. What was his role in all this?
I was so busy thinking this through that it took some seconds to register the five or six muffled explosions at the head of the valley.
‘What the fuck now?’ said Dieter, taking the words out of my mouth. The ground began to shake. I heard a noise like thunder. We both looked up at the cloudless sky, but this was continuous, never-ending thunder, drawing closer all the time. Tens, scores, possibly even hundreds of animals were coming our way. I could hear trees splintering and crashing to the ground. Flying reptiles erupted into the air, screaming and shrieking. Small rocks tumbled past. The dinosaur run had begun.
‘Come on Dieter, we have to go. Now! Come on!’
We ran together. The ground shook and we were continually pulling each other to our feet. I was really worried about the pod. Even with its bracing leg extended, it wasn’t as stable as I’d like it to be.
‘A bit like its owner, then,’ panted Dieter and I began to think we might make a historian of him yet.
Number Eight was still there and upright, but the loose shale on which it balanced was beginning to slide downhill and taking the pod with it. The thunder grew louder and over the crest of the hill came the stampede, invisible in a huge cloud of dust. No time to look – we had only seconds.