Bootstrap Colony (38 page)

The baby's squalls of abject
terror were cut off as the raptor latched on. A juvenile raptor struck from the
flank, ripping at a side and then latching its beak jaws around the throat for
the kill. The trio dropped tumbling into the grass.

The herd had moved off, tossing
its heads and tails in terror. The lone adult moved to stomp on the predators
but the other raptors moved in, striking at its legs in darting attacks. Doc
grunted. “They're not trying to kill it, just drive it off.”

“Yeah, they got what they
wanted,” Mitch commented.

Trumpeting loudly the adult
thrashed its head and stomped, making raptors jump back and away. The two with
the second kill moved off reluctantly as one of the others chittered a warning.
The adult moved to stand over the fallen juvenile, pushing it with a great leg
gently. When it didn’t respond the adult turned, blaring a trumpeting sound to
the raptors then and then turned to the retreating herd, now some distance
away. Slowly it ambled in their wake.

“Damn, those raptors are bigger,
twice as big as the others we have run into,” Mitch observed. “Utah raptors I
bet,” he said, voice not quite as detached as he'd like it to be. Doc
shuddered.

The raptors moved in to enjoy the
spoils with stuttering cawed of victory. “Can we go home now?” A shaken Cassie
asked.

Doc stared straight ahead, before
giving out a low sigh, “Yeah that might be a good idea,” she said. Mitch
snorted. They froze as a couple raptors ran up alongside the truck, and then
paused. One juvenile turned, snorted, and then a caw from the kill sites made
it turn and rush to them.

Raptors were dancing about,
fluttering and cawing. “Mating dance or victory dance?” Doc asked softly.

“Probably a little of both, and a
little dominance display mixed in. On second thought, it is a bit late in the
season for mating,” Mitch replied equally soft never taking his eyes off the
predators.

One of the juveniles darted in to
grab a hunk of flesh. An adult rushed it, screeching anger. The juvenile
retreated, maw dripping gore. It lowered its head to the ground and fluttered
it arms. The chastising adult gave it a thrumming caw, and then cocked its head
left and right, eying it until the juvenile settled down with a huff. Then the
adult returned to the meal.

“Gotta wait your turn laddie,”
Mitch said as he pushed the ignition button and flipped on the electric drive.
They creeped quietly away, the crunch of rocks under the tires made a few of
the animals nearby restless, but not enough to investigate. Cassie watched over
her shoulder anyway, never taking her eyes off the raptors until they dropped
out of sight behind a hill. She gave a long sigh of relief then.

Half way back to base something
began to itch at the back of Mitch’s mind. They were driving along the side of
a creek, almost to the road. The brush and tree line on his side of the vehicle
obscured his view. Doc wasn’t too thrilled about the view on her side, a sharp
muddy embankment to the creek, where crocs lurked in the water.

He slowed the truck, trying to
get a handle on what was bothering him. Doc looked at him concerned. “What’s
wrong?” she asked, he shook his head,

“I dunno, I just got déjà vu, not
the good kind,” Mitch replied slowly.

Cassie giggled in the back. “His
spider sense is tingling mom.”

Doc was not getting into the
mischief. “No, you really think...”

“I dunno... wait it is to quiet,”
Mitch said as the feeling intensified. She looked alarmed.

Cassie sat up, looking around as
well. “I don’t hear anything.”

“That is what I mean, not even
insects.” A sudden blur on his side of the car made him hit the gas
instinctively.

Doc screamed as a massive shape
slammed into the car, Cassie wailed as it tipped and rolled over. Again they
were slammed, Cassie screamed as the lexan glass shattered and the truck rolled
down an embankment. It slid into the mud, then tipped onto its side...teetered
for an awful moment and then onto the wheels. Mitch was dazed as the truck
bounced. “Thank god for the roll cage,” he commented, and then blearily asked
if they were okay.

When Doc didn’t respond he looked
over, her head was lolling against the cracked window; a smear of blood could
be seen behind her head and all over the glass. He fought with his seat belt to
check her. A slam to the rear had Cassie screaming again. A loud pop and sudden
settling told them the rear driver's side tire had been blown.

“Will you quit!” Mitch bellowed.
Cassie immediately quieted down. He flipped the arming switch for the defenses.
Another slam was interrupted by a loud pop and sparks. A squeal outside told
them something didn't like that and then they heard stomping as whatever
attacked them moved off. He flipped the switch back to safe.

He fumbled with the seat belt,
but sudden pain in his left arm made him stop and grit his teeth. He felt with
his right hand, gasping as he felt the break in his left forearm. He felt
something on his forehead, and then his left eye instinctively closed as a
liquid dripped in to sting his eye.

He reached up with his good hand
to wipe it off and found blood. “Great, just great,” he muttered. He reached
with his right hand to check Doc, finding her left hand he pulled it to him and
checked her pulse. He gushed a sigh of relief. She had a pulse.

“Cassie are you okay?” he asked,
trying to look at the girl in the rear view mirror.

She moaned a little. “Yeah, bit
banged up though. I wasn’t wearing my belt; I think my shoulder is dislocated.
My knee is killing me,” she answered. It sounded like she was gritting her
teeth to try to fight back the pain.

“Okay, are you bleeding?”

“No. At least I don’t think so.
What if it came back? What was it the rhino?” A note of hysteria began to creep
into her voice.

“I doubt it. I got the impression
it was something bigger. Not to worry, we will give it the shock of its short
lived life if it does,” Mitch vowed.

A watery chuckle turned into a
cough. “Oh... damn, I think I have a couple ribs busted too. Must have hit the
fridge or something,” Cassie said. He can hear her shuddering breath, but can’t
see her.

He turned to the dash, noted the
flashing red warning lights. He sighed and fumbled with the radio transmitter.
Coughing he got it and radioed in. “Jolie Pete, this is Mitch.” Static answered
him. He turned up the gain and tried again. A garbled Jolie answered. He told
her the situation, she caught some of it, but he wasn’t sure how much.

“Cassie, can you get into the med
kit?” Mitch asked. Cassie’s rough breath and groan was his only answer for a
moment. He could hear fumbling and agonized breaths as she tried.

“Okay, I got it,” she replied
after a moment. He heard a hiss as she injected herself with a pain reliever.
“Haaa,” she sighed, and then groaned as she tried to move again.

“I don’t want you to move much
Cassie; those broken ribs could spear something important. Just feel around,
check the damage,” Mitch cautioned. She gave a gargled okay. He used his right
hand to check himself, feeling the cuts to his head.

He looked with his right eye,
seeing that the windows were all smashed. Bullet proof windows were great at
stopping impact and spalling, but clouded up. “Great, can’t see a thing,” Mitch
growled. Cassie’s breath caught at this news.

He heard a low rumble outside, and
then grumble. He sighed. “Okay, so we have problem visitors outside too.” He
again reached for the belt release, and then changed his mind when something
nudged the truck. He flipped the taser defense system on.

A spark and pop followed by a
loud squeal and running feet made him grimace. He flipped the taser back off.
He checked himself, continuously brushing blood out of his face. He felt
something on his arm and reached for it. “Here, use this,” Cassie said. He
fumbled and grabbed the bandage she handed him.

He stuck it to his forehead. He
felt a light pressure of a cylinder on his right arm, then a hiss of something cool.
“I gave you a low dose,” Cassie told him.

He grunted. “So much for this
outing!” She gave a watery chuckle, and then groaned as she pulled herself up.

“I said wait Cassie!” Urgent
anxiety cut into his self pity.

“I checked, nothing totally
broken in my leg or ribs, most likely cracks and hairline fractures. Scanner
found only tissue damage in the knee, and a couple good cracks on the right
lower ribs,” Cassie reported. He stilled as he digested that news.

“You could have spinal damage,”
He replied softly.

“Yeah, that is why I am taking it
slow; we can’t just sit here watching mom bleed to death you know,” Cassie
replied tartly. He nodded, and then gasped at the pain in his neck. Worried she
touched his arm. “Bad?” Anxiety was creeping back into her voice, so he gritted
his teeth and reminded himself he needed to keep control.

“Just a stabbing pain, like a
crick in my neck.... right side,” he replied. She chuckled.

“Pass me an inflatable splint
will you?” he asked, groaning a little as he pulled his left arm into his lap.

“You sure?” she asked,

“Yeah, I think I may need both
hands soon.” She didn’t say anything but in a moment he heard rustling behind
him then something touch his left arm and then fall on his left hand. Even that
slight touch was enough to make him exhale in pain. He pulled his hand from his
head wound to fumble the splint, but felt the bandage slipping. Cool fingers
touched his wounded brow, and then pressure returned to the bandage. “Thanks,”
he muttered as he bent his elbow, pulling his hand up against his chest while
his right hand laid the splint out in his lap.

He dropped the arm onto it, then
grimaced as he wrapped the splint around his wounded arm and closed the Velcro
strips together. He fumbled to pull the hose to his mouth, and then gave a
tentative puff. His vision swam, as pain no longer a dull distant thing began
to once more cloud his thoughts. “Damn, that hurt.”

“Didn’t anyone tell you not to
talk with your mouth full?” Cassie wryly commented.

He felt his lips quirk in a smile
then gave a slow breath exhale through the tube. Slowly he breathed out,
expanding the splint until it locked in place. He fumbled with pulling the Velcro
strap sling up around his head. Cassie helped. She fumbled in the kit and
pulled out something.

He felt her pull the bandage off,
and then the startlingly cool tingle as she sprayed the cut with biofoam.
“There, that should hold for a little while,” Cassie said. The built in local
anesthetic quickly numbed the wound.

“Good idea. Can you do that to
your mom?” he asked.

She turned, “I almost forgot.”

“Mom, Mom,” Cassie murmured.
Cassie touched her mother's arm, and then pulled herself up. She felt around,
hissing as her ribs bump things. The pain killer was good, but only dulled the
ache, it didn’t kill it.

She sighed in relief, “I can’t
find any damage to her neck. She might be concussed or have a sub dermal
hematoma,” Cassie cautioned. Cassie felt up her mom's left arm, not finding
anything. Her right arm reached around and pressed a pad to her mother’s head
wound, making her suddenly jerk and moan.

“Ah, coming around, good sign.
Mom, can you hear me?” Cassie murmured. Cassie’s left arm was cradled in her
lap. Her mother’s left arm began to flop around, and then she reached up to
touch her head.

Doc groaned softly. “Damn, what
hit me?? Did anyone get the license plate?” Mitch snorted, but Cassie was
concerned for memory loss.

“Mom, do you know where we are?”
Her mother turned her head, felt the hand at her temple. She reached up and
gasped, but grabbed her daughter’s hand and squeezed.

“I would say in a car accident,”
Doc finally answered, starting to get control of her voice.

Mitch snorted. “No kidding,
though I doubt the guy who hit us has insurance.”

Doc looked at him a moment then
asked. “Okay, who are you?”

His face fell. “Shit.” Doc
groaned. She felt about herself, not finding any damage, she took over from
Cassie patting her hand as it retreated.

“Ookaay, what’s the breakage?”
Doc asked wearily.

“In a word? Bad.” Cassie patted
her mother’s left arm.

“I have a dislocated shoulder,
damaged ribs, and sprained knee, maybe a broken ankle. Mitch here has a broken
arm, possible neck injury, and a head wound like you.” Cassie gave her mother
the run down, beginning to fall into the dispassionate speak of a trained
medic.

Her mother looked over Mitch then
patted his arm. “Okay, I am starting to track again; my head is killing me
though!”

Cassie patted her arm; she looked
down and noted the injector. “Not a good idea right now dear, it might suppress
my breathing or do other damage and it will definitely keep this head wound
from clotting,” Doc said.

Mitch grimaced. “Yeah.” He
fumbled with the radio, trying it again, but only getting static.