The Lost Country

THUNDER LIZARD ROAD-5

Lucas supposed it was the gun, which he’d picked up and wiped off before they’d squeezed through the classroom windows—all he knew for sure was that everyone had begun looking to him as though he were some kind of leader. And the funny thing was, he felt like a leader, or at least as though he were awake—truly awake—for the first time in his life. After all, it had been he who had snatched up the gun and killed the raptors, he who had instructed everyone to quickly climb through the windows, and he who had led them to the corner of the building, where they now stood watching the tyrannosaur as it greedily devoured the triceratops. What he didn’t know was what to do next, at least until he saw the big, yellow school bus returning from its rounds, and ordered everyone to make a beeline for it.

This they did, arriving at its doors before it had even come to a complete stop, at which point they began pounding on the glass with their fists and one pistol grip, causing the driver to open the panels and begin shouting, “What the hell’s gotten into you kids? And you, you know toy guns aren’t allowed in school! Why—”

“You don’t know?” asked Sally Meyers, unbelievingly.

“He needs glasses worse than Four-eyed Freddy,” said Thomas.

“Hey, go f**k your mother some more,” said Freddy.

“Hey, hey! What kind of language is that?” snapped the driver. “Now get away from this door, all of you, or I’ll—”

A single report rang out without warning, causing everyone to jump—especially the bus driver—and those gathered turned to look at Lucas, who was holding the gun in the air. “With all due respect, Mr. Bus Driver, I’m asking that you direct your attention to the southeast corner of the school, quickly.”

He did so immediately and did a little doubletake, then his face lost all color as he got up from his seat and staggered out the doors, still looking on. At last he said, “Sorry, kids. But you’re on your own.” And then he ran.

“Mister, don’t!” shouted Sally—but it was too late; the rex just happened to look up from its meal and apprehended him almost instantly ... and now it was coming, coming fast, and the bus driver had scarcely reached his pickup when the beast surged forward and closed its jaws about his head.

Lucas didn’t hesitate. “Everyone get in, let’s go,” he said, and slipped into the driver’s seat even as the rex shook the bus driver violently and threw him to the ground—then turned its attention to them.

They all clambered in after him and he shut the doors, but was horrified when he realized that the bus was an older model with a manual transmission. He pushed in the clutch and jammed it into gear regardless, struggling to reach the pedals and see out the windshield at the same time, trying to remember what his dad had shown him, trying not to think about whether his mom and dad were even still alive—and killed the engine almost immediately.

He turned the key without delay and there was nothing, then looked up to see the tyrannosaur moving toward them rapidly and tried again, this time pushing in the clutch. Everyone cheered as the old bus sputtered to life. At last he eased off the clutch and they lurched forward, even as the rex snapped at empty air behind them, but the dreary mathematics of their situation was clear even to Lucas—for they would never be able to outrun such an animal in first gear alone, and he didn’t think for a minute he’d be able to manage a shift into second.

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