The rabies-madness set in once growth topped out, as if whatever chemical-biological reaction percolating the DNA just kept forcing more and more energy into the system, like a constant diet of cocaine and steroids, until the infected organism finally died.
This rex had passed the last of the rage phase – or more properly, lost the physical/cognitive ability to continue acting upon it, simply shambling forward until its failing biological life-process finally allowed its suffering to end.
That day had also been the first time they'd seen military presence in the area.
As the rex began moving down the hill, there came the buzzing drone of rotor blades, and two choppers appeared above, like giant wasps, hot on the tail of the infected giant.
Naomi had stiffened at the sight – her husband's colors.
The rex didn't seem to notice the buzzing metal bugs as they circled and flew past. Jonah hoped they wouldn't attack – if the beast noticed at all, it would only piss it off, perhaps even summoning up one last maddened rampage.
But instead, the choppers circled back, disappearing over the horizon in the direction they'd come.
Obviously, someone in the military had learned futility. There was no point in engaging an already-dying giant.
As the rex trundled the downward slope, it stumbled.
The staccato footsteps were replaced by a rumble, like rolling boulders, as the giant rex collapsed forward, an avalanche all on its own, and an entire swath of timber was wiped away as the massive beast crashed to the forest floor.
The impact continued to reverberate beneath their feet for nearly a minute before it finally stilled.
In the beast's eyes, the green glow of the Food of the Gods faded as its life left it.
Unfortunately, it wasn't over.
Because now they were looking at an ecological time bomb.
Here was a mountain of free meat, and its scent would carry like ringing a dinner bell for miles around.
But it was infected.
Jonah and Naomi worked their way further down the hillside, hoping for a better view. They moved with caution, judicious in any wilderness, although Jonah had learned to treat it like any lifetime woodsman – it was no different than knowing where the bears were when you lived in Alaska.
The T. rex didn't like the hills, but would follow you there if they got on your tail – and they could be damn stubborn about it.
Which caused Jonah to wonder, what might this big beast have been following?
He did not, however, question what had drawn the first of the valley's other predators.
Naomi pulled at his shoulder, pointing to the big rex' path along the opposite peak.
The dying giant had likely been casting chemical messages in the air that its end was near, and the scent would have carried. Any freeloaders looking for an easy meal would be following right behind, prowling like circling sharks.
And sure enough, the first of the 'normals' appeared on the scene.
The valley south of Jonah's cabin was patrolled by a big rogue male rex, easily approaching ten tons, and it was this mighty beast that followed closest in the dying giant's footsteps.
Likely, the pack of females, who traveled together, would not be far behind.
The senior female would keep the pack in-line until the big rogue claimed the territory – and of course, ate his fill, showing due reverence for the Tyrant King.
T. rex' social habits rather resembled those of some large ground birds. The senior female kept her troop separate from the solitary males, except when she would pair-bond for a period of weeks with the territory's dominant rogue.
Young males would sometimes run in their own small groups once they got too big for the female pack – like many raptor birds, male rex were highly aggressive, and couldn't be tolerated among the more social females – and even these juvie-teenage mini-packs always eventually broke down as every swaggering buck, sooner or later, got too big, too mean, and just had to challenge for the top spot, and either be king or be killed.
And the king tended to be right there handy when that moment came. The juvie-packs often followed the rogue's path, always at a respectful distance, waiting to freeload off his kills. In turn, he would let them stand and wait their turn, while he confiscated anything they happened to bring down – in both cases, after he'd consumed his lion's share, and provided he'd taken a nap half-a-mile away down by the river.
The rogue allowed it – just like anything else that went on in his territory.
Very generously, he allowed it, up until the moment, every now and then, when he had to kill one of them.
Jonah supposed, in its way, it was a very stress-free life.
And as far as living around them, on the flip-side, T. rex did NOT tolerate other predators.
Jonah had seen that demonstrated time and time again. To be a big carnosaur within the nigh-uncanny scent range of a rex, or any tyrannosaur of anywhere near comparable size, was to get your ass bit off.
The rex also seemed to particularly hate sickle-claws – anysickle-claws in scent range, and they would dig out their burrows and dens like bears rooting out termites.
Naomi actually seemed to have become rather fond of the local T. rex troops, in an admiring-the-lion kind of way. She had named the big senior female Trix, and called her flock Josie and the pussycats – Josie being the second-largest female, and presumably, either Trix' little sister or daughter. There were also two other adults, likely sisters, Daphne and Velma.
The roving teenage male gangsters were the JV squad. The largest was Big Moose, although the leader seemed to be a smaller, but more aggressive individual Naomi called Rudy. Archie and Jughead rounded the group.
But so far, it was just the lone rogue that made his way down the slope, where waited the massive, inviting feast.
Naomi raised a pair of binoculars, focusing on the rogue, as he perched atop the giant carcass, and without ceremony, began to gorge, his massive jaws tearing out five-foot
