That was actually what gave them the break they needed. They burst out the rear exit into the parking lot, just as the store collapsed.
The tumbling lumber piled on top of the hapless rex itself.
For the first time, it ROARED – a foghorn blast of pain and outrage, as it was abruptly buried in wood and sheet-rock.
Jonah had a good-sized four-wheel – a Bronco – built for the rough terrain where he lived – but it was not exactly known for speed, and he still had his boat hitched to the back.
But there was no time to unhook it now. Jonah slid into the driver's seat and cranked-up the engine.
The woman-in-flannel stared at the trailer dubiously. “My car's out front...”
But she was cut off by another foghorn bellow as the rex was rising to its feet behind them.
Muttering and cursing, she climbed into the passenger seat.
Looking over her shoulder, she slapped a fresh clip into her pistol.
Jonah eyed her as he shifted into gear. “How many of those do you carry?”
She locked the clip into place. “Just drive.”
The rex was irritably shaking free of the collapsed rubble and there was a decided impatience in its posture as its eyes found them once again.
Jonah squealed tires as the truck dragged the trailer out of the parking lot.
Beside him, the woman leaned out her window and opened fire.
She apparently had pretty good aim – based on the rex's reaction, every bullet hit.
And it clearly didn't like getting shot.
With another ear-splitting roar, it launched after them, jaws agape.
“Hey, lady...?” Jonah ventured.
“Naomi,” the woman answered, slapping still another clip into her pistol.
“Okay, 'Naomi'? Maybe you wanna stop shooting at it? I think you're pissing it off.”
She glared. “I was trying to hit its goddamn eyes.”
But she nevertheless pocketed her pistol.
Which might have been too little, too late.
As Jonah looked in his side mirror, all he saw was a jagged, widening maw.
And with the drag of the boat, it was gaining.
With a sudden lurch, the teeth latched onto the trailer, biting through the stern of Jonah's fishing boat like a shark hitting a surfboard – the wood shattered into kindling.
The jaws clamped down, and the sudden tug-and-jerk felt like their trailer had been hit by a freight train.
For a moment, Jonah thought they were simply going to be tossed off the road.
But like the tail of a lizard, the trailer-hitch snapped, and the truck broke free.
The rex shook its catch side-to-side like a bulldog, before realizing its real quarry had escaped.
Stamping its feet, it came after them again.
Heart pounding, Jonah floored the accelerator – without the weight of the trailer, they picked up speed.
Naomi was looking over her shoulder. “Step on it,” she said. “It's following.”
Jonah stomped the gas, taking the road into town.
Chapter 3
For a massive tank of a beast, the rex kept pace with the Bronco quite nicely, thank you – especially as Jonah was obligated to slow down around the tight mountain curves, sliding precariously over sheer-drops in the dark.
Siskiyou Pass, Oregon, was a small township hidden in the forest along the Rogue River – but it had a Sheriff's Department – presumably with weapons. Beyond that, Jonah really had no plan.
Coming out of the woods, you hit a couple of miles of flat road before you reached the small ridge that overlooked the residential areas – and also where you found most of the official city offices.
When they touched-down on level ground, Jonah stomped the accelerator, at last gaining distance.
Naomi was leaning out the window, looking back.
“This guy's stubborn, isn't he?”
Although losing ground, the rex showed no signs of stopping. Jonah would have figured such a big animal would have gassed out by now, but it charged after them single-mindedly, like a galloping rhino, even as they finally began to pull away.
They had left the beast almost a mile behind when the glow of streetlights signaled the town of Siskiyou Pass just ahead.
Except, as they turned off the mountain road onto the ridge that comprised Main Street, they realized that it wasn't the streetlights at all.
The town was on fire.
Just like New York – just like on television.
“What the hell?” Jonah eased up on the gas, glancing nervously over his shoulder for their pursuer.
Naomi suddenly screamed aloud, “Watch out!”
Jonah turned back just as the dark shape suddenly jumped out in front of them.
Adrenaline shot through him and his foot jerked to stomp the brakes – it was the size of a man – but then he saw the teeth – and the claws.
Instead, he floored the gas again.
They hit the thing dead center and drove over, the Bronco's heavy wheels absorbing the shock like a speed bump.
Naomi had her pistol out again. “What the hell was THAT?”
But Jonah knew – he'd recognized it readily enough – the sickle-claw on the foot was a dead giveaway – a dromaeosaur – like Deinonychus, or Velociraptor – a dinosaur.
Another dinosaur.
A moment later, two more came leaping in from either side.
Jonah swerved, knocking one of them aside, but the other latched on to the passenger side of the cab.
A fanged muzzle peered inside and a clawed talon reached in through the window.
Naomi shot the thing twice in the face. With a stuttered, bird-like screech, it fell away, and Jonah swerved again, catching the falling body with the wheel. There was another squawk and a wholly satisfying crunch as they left the thing flopping in the road behind them like a run-over cat.
The two of them exchanged a wide-eyed glance.
“Are you okay?” Jonah asked.
Naomi nodded, holding up her still-smoking pistol.
There were more of the things on
