Relic

He heard a sobbing, then he felt a key being pressed into his palm. He swiftly locked the door.

“Let’s go,” he said, guiding her away from the door, past the clawed foot of the tyra

Surrounding them was a herd of small struthiomimus skeletons, arranged in a defensive U-shaped formation before the monstrous skeleton of a carnivorous dryptosaurus, its head down, jaws open, and huge claws extended. Cuthbert had always relished the scale and drama of this room, but now it frightened him. Now he knew what it was like to be hunted.

Behind them, the entrance to the Hall was blocked by a heavy steel emergency door. “Where’s Winston?” Cuthbert whispered, peering through the bones of the dryptosaur.

“I don’t know,” Rickman moaned, gripping his arm. “Did you kill it?”

[404] “I missed,” he whispered. “Please let me go. I need to have a clear shot.”

Rickman released him, then crawled backward between two of the struthiomimus skeletons, curling herself into a fetal position with a stifled sob.

“Be silent!” Cuthbert hissed.

The Hall lapsed again into a profound stillness. He looked around, probing the shadows with his eyes. He hoped Wright had found refuge in one of the many dark corners.

“Ian?” came a subdued voice. “Lavinia?”

Cuthbert turned and saw to his horror that Wright was leaning against the tail of a stegosaurus. As he watched, Wright swayed, then recovered.

“Winston!” Cuthbert hissed. “Get under cover!”

But Wright began walking unsteadily toward them. “Is that you, Ian?” Wright said, his voice puzzled. He stopped and leaned for a moment against the corner of a display case. “I feel sick,” he said matter-of-factly.

Suddenly an explosive noise rocketed across the hall, echoing crazily in the enormous space. Another crash followed. Dimly, Cuthbert saw that Wright’s office door was now a jagged hole. A dark form emerged.

Behind him, Rickman screamed and covered her head.

Through the skeleton of the dryptosaurus, Cuthbert could see the dark shape moving swiftly across the open floor. Straight for him, he thought—but it suddenly veered toward the shadowy figure of Wright. The two shadows merged.

Then Cuthbert heard a wet crunching noise, a scream—and silence.

Cuthbert raised the gun and tried to sight through the ribs of the mounted skeleton.

The silhouette rose up with something in its mouth, shook its head slightly and made a sucking noise. Cuthbert closed his eyes, squeezing the trigger.

The Ruger bucked in his hand, and he heard a blast and a loud clattering. Now Cuthbert saw that the [405] dryptosaurus was missing part of a rib. Behind him, Rickman gasped and moaned.

The dark shape of the creature beyond was gone.

A few moments went by and Cuthbert felt the hinges of his sanity begin to loosen. Then, in a flicker of lightning through the clerestory, Cuthbert clearly saw the beast moving swiftly along the near wall, coming directly toward him, its red eyes fixed on his face.

He swung the barrel and began firing wildly, three quick shots, each white flash illuminating rack upon rack of dark skulls, teeth and claws—the real beast suddenly lost in this wilderness of savage extinct creatures—and then the gun was clicking as the hammer fell harmlessly on the expended chambers.

As if from a half-remembered dream, Cuthbert heard the distant sound of human voices, coming from the direction of Wright’s old lab. And suddenly he was ru

“Calm down, you’re all right! Look, there’s blood on him!”

“Get the gun away from him,” someone else said.

“Is he the one we’re after?”

“No, they said an animal. But don’t take any chances.”

“Stop struggling!”

Another scream rose in Cuthbert’s throat. “It’s back there!” he cried. “It’ll kill you all! It knows, you can see in its eyes that it knows!”

“Knows what?”

“Don’t bother talking to him, he’s raving.” Cuthbert suddenly went limp.

The Commander came forward. “Is there anyone else back there?” he asked, shaking Cuthbert’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Cuthbert finally said. “Wright. Rickman.”

[406] The Commander looked up.

“You mean Winston Wright? The Director of the Museum? You must be Dr. Cuthbert, then. Where is Wright?”

“It was eating him,” said Cuthbert, “eating the brains. Just eating and eating. It’s in the Dinosaur Hall, through the lab there.”

“Take him back to the Hall and have the medics evacuate him,” said the Commander to two members of his team. “You three, let’s go. On the double.” He raised his radio. “Red One to Dugout. We’ve located Cuthbert, and we’re sending him out.”

“They’re in this laboratory, here,” said the spotter, pointing at the blueprints. Now that the penetration was complete and the team was deep inside the Museum, the two had moved inside the mobile command unit, away from the hammering rain.

“The lab’s clear,” the Commander’s monotone came over the radio. “Proceeding into the Dinosaur Hall. This other door’s been broken down, too.”

“Go in and take that thing out!” cried Coffey. “But watch out for Dr. Wright. And keep a clear frequency. I want to be in touch at all times!”

Coffey waited, tensed over the set, hearing the faint hiss and crackle of the static over the open frequency. He heard the clink of a weapon and a few whispers.

“Smell that?” Coffey leaned closer. They were almost there. He gripped the edge of the table.

“Yup,” a voice answered.

There was a rattling.

“Kill the light and stay in the shadows. Red Seven, cover the left side of that skeleton. Red Three, go right. Red Four, get your back to the wall, cover the far sector.

There was a long silence. Coffey could hear heavy breathing and faint footfalls.

[407] He heard a sudden explosive whisper. “Red Four, look, there’s a body here.”

Coffey felt his stomach tighten.

“No head,” he heard. “Nice.”

“Here’s another one,” whispered a voice. “See it? Lying in that group of dinosaurs.”

More clicking and rattling of weapons, more breathing.

“Red Seven, cover our path of retreat. There’s no other way out.”

“It may still be here,” someone whispered.

“That’s far enough, Red Four.”

Coffey’s knuckles whitened. Why the fuck didn’t they get it over with? These guys were a bunch of old women.

More rattling of metal.

“Something’s moving! Over there!” The voice was so loud Coffey jumped, and then a burst of automatic weapons fire dissolved immediately into static as the frequency overloaded.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Coffey began saying, over and over. Then for an instant he could hear screaming, and then more static; the even cadence of machine-gun fire; then, silence. The tinkling sound of something—what? Shattered dinosaur bones dropping and rolling on the marble floor?

Coffey felt a flood of relief. Whatever it was, it was dead. Nothing could have survived the shitload of firepower just unloaded. The nightmare was finally over. He eased himself down in a chair.

“Red Four! Hoskins! Oh shit!” the voice of the Commander screamed over the frequency. The voice was suddenly buried by the staccato of gunfire, then more static. Or was it a scream?

Coffey surged to his feet and turned to an agent standing behind him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He read his own terror in the agent’s eyes.