Dino Riders, page 1
Chapter 1
The first thing I noticed was the sand. It dug into my palms and scratched my eyelids as I slowly blinked in the late morning light. I could even feel it in my boxers and wedged beneath my fingernails like I’d clawed my way to solid ground.
The second thing that I noticed was the chilly water that lapped at my leather boots. They’d already shrunken around my ankles like plastic wrap, but at least they were still on.
Memories from the night before flooded back in hectic bursts as my mind finally cleared. It was hard to understand a lot of it as various scenes tumbled over themselves, but I could make out enough to know that the forty foot ship that I’d been on with my crew had been hit by one beast of a storm.
A wave had slammed into the hull hard enough that the entire ship had capsized like a canoe in whitewater rapids, and the last thing I saw was everyone struggling to get to the surface as crates and gear sank into the abyss. There had been a strange light in the water as if one of the high-powered search lamps had been turned on, but then there was nothing but inky blackness.
I blinked a few more times as tears washed the sand from my eyes, flipped over onto my back, and then sat up to look around. We’d been off the coast of South Africa, but the crystalline waters in front of me were too blue. I’d never seen anything like it before, not even on my trips to the Philippines.
And the water was way too cold to be anywhere near the equator, especially in early summer, but of course, the ocean would warm up a lot later than the atmosphere around it. Still, the sand was an oddly golden shade that I’d never seen before either, and a glance over my shoulder showed massive trees that looked like something out of the prehistoric era, and for a brief insane moment, I wondered if I’d washed up on the shores of Isla Sorna in Jurassic Park. I knew in real life there were some places that still had ancient plant life, but none of the ones I knew about were near the ocean.
“Kevin Owens, where the fuck have you found yourself?” I muttered and used my shirt to wipe the sand from my face. “And where the hell is everyone?”
There were no signs of the wreck anywhere around me. No broken crates or torn metal littered the beach, and I couldn’t see another person anywhere. It was like I’d been thrown completely off course by the storm, and that would mean I’d probably landed on a deserted island where no one would ever find me.
“Okay,” I said and stood to shake off the sand. “At least you didn’t drown. And you don’t seem to have any cuts or broken bones. You’re not doing too shabby, K.O. Not too shabby at all.”
I squinted at the jewel-colored ocean one more time as if the merchant ship we’d hopped a ride on would suddenly appear on the horizon, but that thing was officially at the bottom of the ocean. For now, the most important thing I needed to do was figure out a way to survive. If I’d really washed up on a deserted island, then there would be no one around for miles, and if there were other humans nearby, there was a good chance it would be the poachers that we’d been hunting. I ran a hand through my hair, checked the ocean one more time, just in case, and then started to trudge along the beach.
My boots squelched as the water started to evaporate from them, and thankfully my thick socks managed to keep the rubbing down to a minimum. There was no way to know what kind of creatures lived on the island, especially if it was untouched by humans, and the last thing that I needed was blisters slowing me down if something started to chase me.
Heat washed over me as the sun rose higher in the sky, and I lifted my chin to bask in it. I’d walked about half a mile already, but the only other living thing that I’d encountered were some massive tree trunks with branches sticking out like porcupine needles. If it didn’t get much hotter, then the island’s atmosphere might actually be perfect, especially since it was more arid than most of South Africa’s coastline.
The gentle lap of the ocean’s waves helped to drown out some of the fear that crept through me about never being found, though I was pretty sure that I could Robinson Crusoe the shit out of the place, especially with the huge tree trunks that would make a very sturdy house. But still, I wanted to get back to my life and my crew, and the fastest way to do that was to find some way to get off the island, or if I was really lucky, maybe some abandoned radio tower.
Flashes of my crew members’ faces as they laughed and joked around a game of cards tugged at my heartstrings. I told myself that they had to be okay, because they were the toughest people that I’d ever met, and they were survivors. Not even the poachers that we hunted could do them in, and they’d certainly tried a lot over the last couple of years.
“Alright, alright,” I huffed as despair tried to creep in. “Enough of that bullshit. They’re probably on some raft somewhere debating whether or not to drink blood to survive. They’ll be picked up soon enough. We were on a merchant lane. There will be other ships nearby that can pick them up. You need to worry about yourself.”
The beach curved up ahead and ducked behind some trees with leaves as big as my face. A thin trail of smoke rose into the pale blue sky like there was a fire somewhere, and I sniffed the air tentatively. There wasn’t a glow in the treeline from a big fire, but it smelled like a beach bonfire, so maybe someone did live on the island after all.
“Maybe it’s the guys,” I said hopefully.
It took all of my self-control not to run around the curve and see if it was actually my crew, but that was the dumbest thing that I could possibly do at the moment. Deserted islands were known for being havens for pirates, poachers, smugglers, and anyone else that needed a place to hide out from the law. If I went and burst onto the scene, then I’d probably end up shot or thrown back into the ocean as fish bait.
No.
I needed to be careful and find out exactly where the fire was coming from. If it was my crew, then we’d figure out some way to get off the island, and if it wasn’t, then I’d help myself to whatever gear I needed and find a way off the island. Either way, I was going to get back to civilization.
Sand shifted beneath me as I crept closer to the treeline, but not close enough that something could jump out and eat me. There hadn’t been any signs of animals since I’d opened my eyes, and clearly nothing had tried to eat me during the night, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. I paused to check my pants pockets for any weapons that hadn’t fallen into the ocean and grinned when my fingers closed around my trusty Leatherman Surge multitool. That thing had helped me get out of more trouble than a gun ever had.
I snuck a little closer to the nearest tree and sliced off a two or three-foot stretch of green vine as thick as my thumb. It wasn’t exactly a garrote, but it would still strangle someone, and it was supple enough that it wouldn’t break easily.
A balmy breeze swept in from the ocean, and something moved out of the corner of my eye. It was gone by the time I looked, but there was definitely something in the forest, and I had no intention of finding out if it was a predator or not. My scent had definitely been carried on the wind, so if there was some hungry animal, it would be coming my way soon, and my best bet was to stay downwind.
The smoke shifted with the breeze, and I grinned as it wafted closer to me. It wasn’t thick enough to hide me from whoever was around the bend, but it would at least drown out my scent so that I’d only have to fight whoever made the campfire.
I moved back toward the water and crouched down behind one of the huge trunks as the beach bent back toward the treeline. The massive fallen tree reached just far enough for me to get a good look at where the smoke was coming from, but it was a lot further than it originally seemed. It was at least another quarter mile off, and it wasn’t a small campfire, but several small fires in braziers around an old-school colony.
“Where the fuck am I?” I whispered again and then quickly hid behind the tree.
A 16th century galleon-like ship had come around the beach from the other side of the colony, and men in jerkins and heavy wool hose rushed out to grab the ropes that were thrown down so that they could drag it onto the beach like they were in Normandy. It was like watching something on the History Channel in real time, complete with those ridiculous hats that always made me want to laugh. There was no way that anyone would willingly wear the medieval-style clothing for anything other than a reenactment, but I’d never heard of any near South Africa, especially not with such a heavy European influence.
The colonial period wasn’t exactly a time in African history that anyone wanted to relive. Except for maybe the very rich or the English nobility, but neither of those was in great abundance along the tip of the continent. Either way, someone was bound to find out about this… whatever it was… and protest it, but there was nothing modern anywhere in sight.
“Okay,” I said and knelt down in the sand. “You’re definitely not in South Africa anymore. Which was kind of obvious with the weather and foliage. But now there’s definitely no questioning it.”
The workers managed to get the galleon ship tied off in the low tide, and someone dropped a ramp onto the sand to start unloading wooden crates. Even the sailors had on the tunics and hose, though they also had a hood sewn to their shirts that helped to protect them from the sun. It was like I’d been teleported back in time, and I did a quick mental check to make sure that we’d been nowhere near the Bermuda Triangle when we’d gone down.
Not that I believed in that kind of nonsense, but there weren’t a lot of logical explanations for the medieval weirdos unloading cargo from an outdated ship. At least there would be some kind of modern equipment on board, ev en if they were just some crazy reenactment group, because there was no way that anyone would willingly brave the ocean without at least a radio, no matter how die-hard they were.
“This is insane,” I said and gripped the vine in my hand a little tighter like it was a reality anchor. “There’s no way that you actually traveled back in time. And there’s definitely no way that you somehow made it from South Africa all the way to the Bermuda Triangle. Get a grip, K.O.”
I nodded in agreement with my own reasoning, took a deep breath of the salty air, and then turned my attention back to the colony. It was getting harder and harder to convince myself that the sailors and colonists weren’t crazy reenactors, especially since the entire place was surrounded by those log walls with sharp spikes at the top like the drawings in my American History textbooks. If I was right, and they were committed to the bit, then it would be hard to get them to give me a radio, even if they had one.
Still, they didn’t look like poachers or pirates, and there wasn’t a machine gun in sight. They did have a couple of arquebuses hung over their shoulders like the workers expected some kind of trouble, and one guy stood on the top of the wall with his eyes glued to the treeline like King Kong might burst through at any moment. They wouldn’t be able to do much with the unreliable weapons, and I knew enough about the medieval guns to know that they misfired more than they actually worked, but the iron pellets they used would tear through skin, bone, and clothing, so it would be better not to spook them and get myself shot, especially if they were truly committed to the bit, because the medicine back then was definitely more hit-or-miss than useful.
And I wasn’t about to let someone put leeches on me.
“All you have to do is approach calmly and ask for some help,” I said. “You know how to smile, K.O. Be charming.”
That wasn’t exactly my strong suit since Addo usually did all of the talking for our group. I was better with the steely glares and the tracking, unless it had to do with a pretty woman, and then I might be able to muster up a genuine smile. Still, I’d watched my friend schmooze enough to be able to get some weirdo reenactors to not shoot me, and that was all I needed at the moment.
Something chirped above me, and I looked up to see what looked like what I could only describe as a dinosaur, but that was even more impossible than the medieval weirdos in the colony. The little dude was only about three feet tall with a long snout filled with tiny, sharp teeth, and it had somehow dropped onto a nearby log without me noticing. I slowly inched away before it could strike and then turned so that I could look at it better, and I felt ice run through my veins as we studied each other.
It was a dinosaur. An actual, real, breathing dinosaur.
The creature chirped again and tilted its head like it wanted a treat, or maybe it was studying my reactions to decide if I would be easy prey or not. It took me a second to realize why it looked so familiar, and then I immediately looked around for signs of its buddies. I’d seen that exact mini-raptor-like dude in a Jurassic World Netflix thingy, and the little bastard had swarmed a young girl with thirty of its friends before they tore her apart.
Not today Satan.
I gripped the vine a little tighter in my hand and glanced over at the colonists. They were too far away to see me clearly, though the guy on the wall would notice if a fight broke out. I didn’t think that they’d make it in time to save me, especially if the Compsognathus moved as fast as they had in the show, though Hollywood did tend to get things wrong since there weren’t any actual dinosaurs to study back in the real world.
At least there weren’t any that anyone knew about. The weirdo reenactors were now officially the least threatening thing on the not-so deserted island. If someone had decided to go all Island of Dr. Moreau and started splicing animals until they made real-life fucking dinosaurs, then they were the ones that I needed to be on the lookout for.
Of course, if they had the tech to bring back extinct species, then they’d also have a radio that could reach the mainland, so at least things were looking up. All I had to do was survive the Compy, which seemed to be alone at the moment, and then find its creator. No problem.
“You’ve been in worse situations, K.O.,” I said as the Compy lifted its head and let out a series of chirps that sounded way too much like a lion calling for the lionesses in his hunting party.
The ferns that littered the forest floor started to shake as fifteen more of the little dinosaurs trotted out. They all clicked and chirped at each other as they spread out in the sand, and the guy on the wall sent out an alert with a loud horn. The Compies didn’t even look at him as their circle started to close around me until I was in the middle of a fight ring with a bunch of toddler-sized opponents.
“It’s fine,” I told myself and then snapped the whip-like vine in my hand.
It slapped the leader right in the chest and sent the little bastard flying backwards while the others rushed in on me at once. I hopped up on top of the tree-trunk before they could reach me and started swinging the makeshift whip around like a cowboy in the rodeo, and the Compies all backed up. The one that I’d knocked off the fallen tree trunk had already sprung back up and started to chirp angrily like a fat mafioso ordering my head over a plate of spaghetti.
Sweat slicked the back of my neck as they all started to leap at me one after the other, and a comic image of a bunch of lemmings jumping off of a cliff floated across my mind before the snap of the whip-like vine brought me back. I managed to knock three of the little shits back into the sand with one swing, and massive red welts sprung up on their lizard-like skin. Two more Compy hopped onto the tree trunk and dashed at me so fast that I barely had time to run toward the water.
The prehistoric bastards were just as fast as they had been in the movies, and one of them managed to snag my right leg. If it hadn’t been for my loose cargo pants, then it would’ve shredded my calf. The lizard-like monsters didn’t go too far into the water, and I didn’t dare to go further than my ankles, especially with blood running down into the ocean.
If there were tiny dinosaurs, then that meant that there might be big ones, and I had no way to know if any of those were aquatic. The Compies circled me again like a pack of wild dogs, but the little shits had already learned how to avoid the makeshift whip when I swung it around. It wouldn’t be long before they lost their fear altogether, and the colonists just stood by the log wall with their arquebuses and halberds at the ready just in case the fight came to them.
“Naturally,” I huffed and turned back to the threat in front of me.
My attention shifted back to the tree trunk where the leader stood with hatred in its beady eyes, but it wasn’t the Compy that brought a smile to my face. It was the small branch that stuck up from right next to it like Excalibur waiting to be pulled from the stone. The little dinosaur chirped at its friends, and the circle around me tightened until they were close enough to swipe at my clothes.
I jolted before the first claw struck me, kicked the Compy in front of me so hard in the face that a sickening crack filled the air as its jaw broke, and then continued to the tree trunk. The branch was only about a foot and a half long, so the little dinosaurs would have to be close for me to hit them, but it was as thick as my wrist, and it snapped off the fallen tree trunk with one hard tug. I dropped the vine in favor of my new bat and swung it as hard as I could at the nearest Compy.
The ones that had already been hit with the makeshift whip stayed back a little like they’d decided to let the others take the lead for the moment, and soon the sound of breaking bones and angry chirps filled the air. I took out three of the little shits with one swing and smiled in satisfaction as one of them spun around so fast that it sliced another Compy’s neck wide open with its toe claws. Blood oozed out of the wound as the others dropped to the sand in mid-leap.
We stood there in a stand-off for what felt like an eternity as sand and saltwater stung the small cuts that the little bastards had managed to land. Sticky blood dripped down my leg from where one of the Compies managed to get through the cut in my right pant leg like an expert marksman. My heart beat so fast that it was hard to hear the tiny chirps that they let out like a war tribunal in front of a convict on death row.
