Code Name Flood. Laura Martin

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      When we were still a hundred yards away from the lake, I spotted the brown object floating on top of the water’s surface with two men standing inside of it. Sweat stung my eyes, but I didn’t notice. Boat, my exhausted brain provided for me, that’s a boat. I’d read about boats, of course, but I’d never seen one. Todd must have spotted it too because he immediately veered towards it. It flashed across my mind that those men could be marines, but in that moment I didn’t care. The pack of rust-coloured scales and flashing white teeth were mere feet behind us now.

      The men in the boat were dressed in strange blue jumpsuits and had black guns pressed to their shoulders. As we approached, a flash of red erupted from each barrel, and I heard an angry shriek as a spray of sand pelted my back. The men fired again as we raced into the icy water. The cold was so shocking after the heat of the sand that it would have taken my breath away if I’d had any left to take. I sloshed through the shallow water, running until it was too deep, and then I instinctively paddled, pulling handfuls of water past me. Moments later my fingernails dug into the rough wood of the boat. One of the men grabbed the back of my tunic and heaved me up over the edge, while the other stood firing shot after shot into our would-be assailants.

      Todd and Shawn landed on top of me as they too were hauled in. Managing to untangle myself from the boys, I struggled to my knees and peered out over the edge of the boat. The dinosaurs were slumped across the beach, their legs stuck out at all angles and their mouths hanging open. There had to be at least twenty of them, their eyes vacant.

      I realised suddenly that the only sound I could hear was the water lapping against the side of the boat, and the silence seemed deafening after the earsplitting roars of moments before. The two men lowered their guns as Todd and Shawn pulled themselves to standing positions.

      “Are they dead?” Shawn wheezed, running a trembling hand over his face. “Please tell me they’re dead.”

      “Of course they’re not dead,” said one of the blue jump-suited men, as though this should have been obvious, leveling his serious grey eyes on us.

      “They sure look dead to me,” Todd commented, spitting a gob of sand into the water. He shoved his hands into his hair and tousled it roughly, sending a mist of grainy sand over Shawn and me.

      “They’re just tranquilised,” said the other man with the gun, turning to inspect us. I jumped as I realised that what I’d taken for a slimly built man was actually a girl not much older than me. Her closely cropped black hair stuck out in odd spikes and twists over laughing hazel eyes. Her easy smile was a sharp contrast to the man beside her, whose narrowed eyes held no hint of warmth or kindness. “Those guys won’t wake up for at least three hours, and they’ll have killer headaches when they do.”

      “Tranquilised?” Shawn repeated. “Why would you tranquilise them instead of killing them?”

      “Wasteful,” said the older man stiffly. “The carnotaurus numbers aren’t stable. Their last breeding season was a bad one. Those right there,” he said, pointing to five large dinosaurs slumped near one another, “are probably breeding females. Did you know that their name literally means meat-eating bull? The name came from those impressive horns. Beautiful creatures. Simply amazing. Their eyes face forward instead of off to the side like all the others, one of the reasons they’re such efficient hunters. Although,” he amended, “it’s extremely rare for that many of them to chase prey like that. They prefer to hunt alone. In fact, I’ve only seen that behaviour when they believe their young are threatened.”

      I’d never heard someone talk about dinosaurs with such obvious admiration.

      “You mean like if someone fell headfirst into a nest and cracked an egg open with his big head?” Todd grumbled, glaring at Shawn.

      “Right,” Shawn said. “Because I meant to do that. It was loads of fun at this end. By the way, why did you rip my shirt off?” he asked as he attempted to scrape the layer of sand off his neck and shoulders that the lake water hadn’t already rinsed off.

      “Because I was trying to avoid that,” Todd said, pointing to the beach full of not-dead dinosaurs. He shook his head in disgust. “Obviously it wasn’t enough. They were still able to track your scent.”

      Ignoring the boys’ bickering, I studied the girl curiously. “Why do you care about the, what did you call them? The carnotaurus numbers?”

      “That is a good question,” Todd said, looking from the man to the girl. “Who are you people?”

      “Wait a second,” Shawn said. “You don’t know them, Todd? Why did you run towards their boat?”

      “Did you see a better option?” Todd asked, eyebrows raised.

      “Clearly savages,” the older man sneered, turning to the back of the boat, where a small black motor was perched. “I told you we shouldn’t have picked them up, Chaz. Don’t get too close, they probably have fleas.”

      “Fleas?” Todd said in indignant disbelief. “And who are you calling savages?”

      I put a restraining hand on him; now was not the time to insult the people who had just saved us.

      “At least you don’t have to report their deaths now. Think of the mound and a half of paperwork you just avoided,” the girl said good-naturedly. “Besides, we’ll send a team back to attach tags and trackers before the carnotaurs wake up, so it isn’t a total loss.” The man huffed into his moustache and pulled a handle on the motor. It sputtered to life.

      “We’ll drop you off a mile or so down the shoreline,” the man said coolly. “That way other members of the herd won’t be able to find your trail. Although I suggest you bathe the one who fell into the nest. The stench of a hatchling can linger for months if you don’t.”

      “Months?” Shawn squeaked, looking pale.

      “Actually,” the man said, wrinkling his nose, “you would all benefit from bathing. You smell like faeces.”

      “That would be me,” I said, raising my hand. I couldn’t smell the dinosaur poop I’d landed in anymore, but I’d probably become immune to it. The man had called us savages, and it wasn’t hard to guess why. My green tunic and leggings were liberally stained and spotted with dinosaur dung, a film of wet sand still clung to my skin, and my red hair hung in wet tangled ringlets. Shawn and Todd didn’t look much better. Shawn was dripping wet sand onto the floor of the boat, shirtless, his hair smashed down on his head in dirty clumps. Todd had somehow ripped a large gash in the shoulder of his tunic so it drooped to the side, his bow and other gear a tangle of straps across his chest. In sharp contrast, the girl was immaculate in her crisp blue jumpsuit with its neat red badge on the upper shoulder that depicted the silhouette of a long-necked brachiosaurus.

      “Who are you?” I asked.

      “Scientists.” The girl grinned. “We’ve been studying dinosaur populations around the lake since before the pandemic.” She extended her hand, and I shook it. “I’m Chaz, by the way, Chaz McGuire. This grumpy but brilliant man is Dr Steve Schwartz.” Dr Schwartz didn’t acknowledge his introduction as he fiddled with the puttering motor positioned at the back of the boat. I glanced around, taking in the small craft’s flat wooden hull. Narrow СКАЧАТЬ