Janus (Zombies versus Dinosaurs Book 2) Page 4

  Janus kept an eye on the upcoming animals. He had singled one out in particular. The one in the front was the most interesting to him. He rolled over quickly, losing sight of the onslaught. He jumped to his feet and twisted his back to the herd. He waited for just the right moment.

  The first dinosaur passed him. He began to chase that beast to the left. The animal responded and went left. The dinosaurs nearest continued following their leader. However, they were not about to suffer an intruder. One flung its head upwards, trying to impale Janus on horns. Another tried to stomp him into the ground. Janus barely dodged each attack.

  The lead dinosaur twisted its head and bit at him. Janus accidentally gave that dinosaur a small mouthful of his flesh. The loss of flesh would not bleed or kill him, but it also took a long time to grow back. He was the only one of his pack that could heal cleanly. He wished that could be a gift he could give to all his tribe.

  In exchange for the pound of flesh Janus lost, he gained a grip on the beasts head. He hoisted himself up and hit the beast on the top of the head. The animal bellowed and began to thrash its head around wildly. Janus ignored the momentum by holding tight with his grip. When the dinosaur stopped moving its head back and forth, Janus snuck a look back. He saw the sight he was hoping for. He saw that they were still moving forward, and that the entire heard of dinosaurs was following them.

  Janus began biting on one side and the creature moved to the opposite direction. He did not continue to bite the large beast. He knew that eventually the dinosaur would try a roll to squish him. That would kill the dinosaur’s momentum and his experiment would be ruined. It also meant that he was much more likely to become seriously injured. Janus instead went up to the head and tried to force it into a direction. The dinosaur tried biting him and he almost gave up another pound of flesh.

  Janus then tried to cover the dinosaur’s left eye with a hand and push on the head toward the left with the other hand. The beast began to lean toward the left and eventually started to run that direction. Janus then tried the right eye and pushed the creatures head. It pushed the dinosaur to the right.

  Once Janus had decided how to steer the pack of wild animals, he wanted to use this information. What better way to use this information then to force his pack dominance? He pointed the dinosaur herd back at his tribe. True, the slower ones may get killed. However, culling was a natural part of any good pack.

  He yelled several times as he approached. He wanted to make sure they saw it was him leading the herd. When he saw some of the more experienced hunters chasing down the sides of the herd, he knew his point was made. Janus steered the herd towards the small cliff he had jumped down earlier. Janus jumped out of the way at the last moment and let the dinosaurs fall off the cliff. He even saw one of his hunters fall off the cliff. Most paused in the hunt knowing what it meant. The tribe went underneath the cliff and began dispatching hurt and broken prey.

  Never had their pack enjoyed so much food. This would be a feast for a long time. The howling of victory was intoxicating among the pack. It was so intoxicating that even Janus decided to join in. He had learned what he wanted about the dinosaurs. The non-liberated man could make as many of these things as they want. Janus would use them to break barrier. Janus would use them to claim more. He would expand his pack to larger and greater sizes than ever before. After all, that’s what being a pack leader was all about. Giving the freedom of instinct and the hunt to as many as would follow you.

  CHAPTER SIX:

  A Visitor

  The day was cold against Paul’s skin and he saw goosebumps raise the flesh up. The howling from the blues was loud last night. They always howled, but the amount they howled indicated they had killed something massive. He hated those damn zombies. If he could he would shoot each one in the head. Air out their blue brains against the blue sky. He had seen many good men die or be turned. He knew he would see more suffer similar fates. That was the way this new world worked. You had to get used to death and struggling to survive.

  Paul walked towards his home a little faster. This council meeting had gone quicker. Partly because Paul interrupted the last few people and gave quick pronouncements. He knew that was done poorly, but he didn’t care. The only thing he cared about was a warm fire and teaching his child to read. Everything else was secondary to him.

  As he walked up his pebbled drive way, he smiled. He always smiled when he saw his little girl playing outside. He knew that she would be trying to farm or hunt, as these were the way kids had fun when trying to survive. Her “garden” was a bunch of wheat seeds planted in the house’s front flower bed. So far she had sprouts growing, but the recent cold snap might have killed those off. He would have to figure out some way of making her feel like her efforts mattered. Perhaps bringing the plants inside and then swapping them out for healthy wheat?

  His daughter looked up from her tiny garden and yelled “daddy!” in his direction. She got up, brushed off the dirt carefully, then began running over to him. She was so concerned about the dirt that she missed not having a boot on one of her feet.

  Paul scooped her off the ground and started to carry her in. She didn’t speak much, but hugged him tightly. He knew he was getting dirt and fertilizer in his hair from her tiny hands, but he didn’t mind. As Paul approached the house he saw the elderly woman he paid to babysit his daughter.

  “How was my little farmer today? Did she bake you a loaf of bread with all the wheat she was growing?”

  The woman looked fondly toward the child and put a soft hand on her back. “She cooked up a bit of trouble, but nothing too substantial. Met her prince charming today.”

  “Oh, did she? When do I get to meet the young lad?” Paul’s head cocked to the side asking the question more to his daughter.

  “I did not.” Said his daughter, anger pout forming on her face.

  The old woman patted the child’s back and said “I caught her near the stream hunting for toads. Tell your father what you told me.”

  “I don’t want to.” Paul’s daughter replied.

  “What did you tell her?” Paul asked looking to meet his daughters eyes. Once they shared a look, she relented.

  “I told her I wanted to kiss them to see if they would be magic. You know… princely magic.” She said, a slight blush coming over her face.

  “And did you find any princes?” Paul asked with a straight face, trying not to belittle his daughter’s imagination.

  “No. But I did get my pants pretty muddy. She told me,” the daughter half pointed at her elderly babysitter,”that the pants needed a wash. She said if I got this pair dirty too, I couldn’t have any more fun today.”

  Paul looked at his daughters pants with several grass stains and dirty knees.

  “See! I worked hard to keep these ones clean!” She smiled at him in triumph.

  “Sounds like you had a busy day, my sunshine. Let’s get you inside so you can tell me more about these princes you kissed.” Paul set his daughter back down on the ground and held her hand, leading her into the house.

  “I didn’t kiss any princes today!” the daughter began to protest, face growing blushed.

  “Same time tomorrow?” Paul asked the elderly babysitter.

  “Sounds good to me! Just make sure to give those pants a good wash. Girl’s got mud flowing through her veins.” The elderly woman gathered her purse and began to leave the property as Paul closed the front door.

  After tales of adventure and a basic dinner, Paul put his daughter to bed. He was in his living room, working through some paperwork from the previous day. After that, he had to fix a door frame and stack some wood. After that, he had to clean his daughter’s pants. Long days were not something new to Paul. Being a single parent required it. The knock at the door startled him, followed by anger.

  Paul opened the door quickly and asked in a angry, hushed tone, “What is it?”

  A man in a black vest stood at the door. His head was slouched down and he looked side to s
ide. He was obviously nervous about something. Paul’s wrath was well known among the community, but only towards blue brains. Paul noticed the shovel in the mans hands, being twisted in the guys grip.

  Paul softened his tone and asked in a more level voice, “What can I help you with?”

  “They broke through” said the man pointing his shovel in the distance.

  “Who broke through?”

  “A small pack of dinosaurs broke through. Not sure why. Caused a terrible turn-up of my field. Might kill a field of my crop.”

  So the man was a professional farmer. Now it made sense why he had come to Paul. Paul was known as one of the best farmers around. He had re-claimed and test harvested multiple fields. He knew about barriers and learning to eradicate zombies from tough spots.

  “What kind of fence did you have up?” Paul asked the man, putting his hand on the scared man’s shoulder.

  The man shrugged the hand off and defiantly said, “Steel, some of the best there is. That’s why I am here.”

  Dinosaurs crashing through a fence happened. It wasn’t uncommon for a rouge dinosaur to get spooked and stumble into a wooden or fish wire fence. They would cause some damage that required immediate repair, but that wasn’t the risky part. If the dinosaur got caught up in the fence, it would bellow. The zombies would hear the animal and come looking for an easy meal. A combination of collapsed fence and a horde of zombies was never a good mix.

  “Show me the entrance, then I want you to get someone for me.” Paul ducked inside grabbing his machete and chain lined coat. He came outside and shut the door gently.

  “Do you need me to get a town crier or someone with dinosaur hunting weapons?” asked the farmer, looking at Paul’s machete. “Perhaps someone with a triceratops to mow zombies down?”

  “No. I need you to get my babysitter.” Paul said, walking off into his driveway.

  CHAPTER SEVEN:

  Infected

  The animal bleating into the night was unnerving. Paul could hear its agony in every lung full of air it expelled. He couldn’t even see the dinosaur, but he knew it was hurting bad. The dumb creature did not realize that its constant shrill sound was probably attracting blues by the hundreds.

  Paul turned to the farmer that had brought him here. “After you get my daughter seen to, find someone to fix up the fence.”

  “Of course, patch up where the dinosaur came in and …” said the man, waving his hands in a frustrated gesture.

  “No. Patch up this side of the fence. Consider your land lost at this point.” Paul scanned the perimeter of the fence line, looking for movement in the shadows. It was dark out, so he wouldn’t get much warning if something tried to breach.

  “But I already spent 10 of the 12 months required to prepare this land for a professional farmer, I can’t just abandon it now” said the farmer, leaning forward with hands outstretched.

  Paul took his gaze away from scanning the landscape to the man’s eyes. Paul didn’t say anything, he just kept staring into the farmer’s brown eyes.

  “10 months” the man deflated and head sunk down, “Wasted. I was nearly there. It was so hard clearing this land and now I’ll have to do it again.”

  It was a hard being a farmer. Stuff like this happened. Paul didn’t want to catch the man’s gaze again, so he went back to scanning for trouble. Paul stood watch there, machete out and ready to dispatch any who tried for the fence line. He had to remind the man to go and get help. When the man returned with help, two fencers and a long bearded man with a shotgun, Paul breathed a sigh of relief. His greatest worry had been that the dinosaur had attracted enough blues that they would have crashed into this side of the fence like a human tidal wave. Now that the fence was being put up, he knew that this ordeal would be over soon.

  He watched as the fencers finished up. Both him and the bearded man looked at each other. In the distance, the dinosaur was groaning softly.

  “Why haven’t we seen anything yet?” the bearded man asked Paul.

  “I don’t know.” Paul replied.

  “Maybe their eating up the dinosaur?” asked a fencer.

  Paul turned and shook his head.

  The man with a beard glared at the fencer. “No,” said the bearded man, “if they were eating the dinosaur, it would be dead. However, you can still hear it moaning.”

  All the men paused for a second to listen to the dieing creature. It moaned softly and Paul wished he could put the dinosaur out of it’s misery. However, going into a field of zombies at night was a quick way to die.

  “We will go out in the morning. Tonight we will keep guard; even with the fence built.” Paul said sitting down on a rock ledge nearby.

  The moaning slowly faded until, by the time the light shown in the sky, it was gone. The fencers had gone back to town to get sleep and some riders. The next part of this odd breach would be exploring how it happened. That crucial information would require a fencer to ride with him. They wanted to know how to build bigger and better containment sections. Knowing how they failed was a risky gold mine to a fencer.

  To Paul, something felt off about the whole incident. Why had a dinosaur been able to breech such a heavy fence line? Why hadn’t the blue brains come flooding through the rift after hearing the dying dinosaur? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answers, but curiosity pushed him forward.

  The fencers had found two riders and a crier to enter the breech with Paul. Both fencers and the farmer wanted to join on Paul’s animal, but he forbade too many coming with him. The deciding factor had been that the one fencer didn’t have a family. Paul hated himself for doing this, but he knew he must. The crier also had family, but Paul did his best to ignore that fact. The crier would only be used to distract the hoards of zombies, then pull themselves up to safety. Paul knew him to be a safe man, as he wore thick leathers, despite the need for movement.

  “What’s the backup plan, crier?” Paul asked.

  The man smiled at Paul and reached into a pocket in his pants. He pulled out a handful of firecrackers. The man had closely cropped brown hair and a trimmed goatee. Paul though he could see an imprint of glasses on the man’s nose. Hopefully the man was wearing contacts, though he didn’t approve of any sight problems when it came to blue brains.

  “I am not going to go far from the fence line. If I see your in trouble, I am going to get near a tree an light these off.” The man pushed the hand full of firecrackers near Paul. “These are special Pale Rider.”

  “Special how?” Paul said as he grabbed a firework from the man’s hand.

  “The red ones shoot streamers into the sky. The blue ones make loud noises. The green ones have a long delay, then make noises. The white ones are a last resort.” Said the man, picking the white firecracker from Paul’s hand.

  “Explosive?” Paul asked.

  “Yup. Very. They are kind of unstable though, so I would prefer you didn’t handle them roughly.” The man took out a handkerchief and wrapped the white one delicately before placing it into his pocket.

  “I can see the noise ones, and the explosive one, but why the streamers?” Paul asked.

  “Ah, that’s my rescue signal. If you see streamers on a tree there is a zombie party underneath wanting to break open the human pinata.”

  Paul smiled and nodded. As the gate to the property swung open, the color drained from Paul’s face. The smile vanished like makeup in the rain. Paul’s eyes went wild and he charged in. As Paul laughed, he heard gasps of “Pale Rider” behind him. Hopefully those riders would catch up. Paul felt alive and ready to kill, despite the lack of blood to his face. The blues would not have this land. They would not deprive his community of food. Final death was the only fate he wished for those destructive flesh munchers.

  Paul didn’t look for the positives. He had his eye on all the negative spaces. Shadows around a tree, small caves near a cliff side. The depth of the water of the creek he passed over. On his dinosaur, he rode towards the back of the property. He expec
ted to see zombies everywhere. He kept holding his breath waiting to see them start to flood in as he had seen so many times.

  He went over a path of rocks and passed near tilled land. A crop of pumpkins kept his eye extra long, to make sure no zombies where crawling in the brush on their bellies. He pushed his ride forward toward the potential breach. Perhaps the farmer was wrong. Paul hoped he was wrong. If the dinosaur hadn’t actually breached the steel fence, then the only thing lost was time and some fencing resources. Paul would have been fine giving up those things. A night with no sleep was a small price to pay.