The Lost Country

THUNDER LIZARD ROAD-7

By the time they arrived back at the YMCA—skidding to a halt behind a stand of newly materialized cycad trees—the girl had taken refuge beneath a nearby pickup ... and the rex, having managed to puncture the roof of the school bus with its teeth, was beginning to peel back the metal.

“Here’s the plan, baby—I’m not saying it’s a good one,” said Sammy, and put out the kickstand. “But I know you can ride a little, right? So here’s the deal: Get the girl and put her on the back of the bike, then make tracks for DJ’s as fast as you can. I’m going to commandeer that bus.”

“I can just barely ride, and you know it,” said Annie. “Just please, for the love of God, get us out of here.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Annie.” He took off his helmet and dropped it to the ground, moving to get off the bike—but froze as something was jammed against his ear—a small gun, he knew, his gun.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to,” said Annie. There was a sound like a ratchet handle as she c****d the weapon. “Now put it in gear.”

“Have you gone insane? You know we can’t just leave a bunch of kids to be torn to pieces. The party’s over, Annie—can’t you understand that? It’s time to pay the bill.”

“No, baby. It’s time for you to pay the bill.” She pressed the muzzle of the pistol tighter against his ear. “You think I let just any over-the-hill wannabe have his way with me? Did you think it was your c**k that’s been keeping me around?” She laughed. “No, baby. It’s been the bike and it’s been the money. It’s been the 24-hour party. And now you’re going to get me to DJ’s—or I’m going to put a bullet through your brain and do it myself.”

He looked at the school bus as it lurched forward again and stalled, heard the children scream as the rex continued to peel back the roof.

“Do it yourself, then,” he said, and got off the bike. “I’m going to help those kids.”

He moved to leave then paused, looking at her over his shoulder. “You were a boring lay, anyway. You bad girls always are. And the money was pretty much shot.”

She slid forward to the driver’s seat and put up the stand, then shrugged. “It was fun while it lasted.”

And then she was gone—not down the road, rumbling and roaring, just gone—replaced by a stand of hoary-looking cycad bushes.

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* * * *

It had taken some doing, convincing the girl under the truck that he was there to help and wouldn’t leave until she crawled out to him and they could join the others in the bus—but she had, and he’d managed to get the bus going and away from the tyrannosaur well before the last of the dying light finally bled from the sky completely.

And now they were back on the Interstate, a highway Lucas had dubbed “Thunder Lizard Road,” and they’d gotten what children they could back to what parents remained, and Sammy and Lucas and Carina had gathered at the front of the bus as a sort of redeye flight crew as they motored into the unknown, having not much of a plan but to get to the first major city, where it was hoped they might find someone, anyone, who knew what was going on.

And though their collective fate was uncertain at best, Sammi felt oddly fulfilled as he tuned the radio and tried to find a news broadcast—knowing that, whatever awaited them down the road, it would be better than the life he had been living ... for a man needed purpose as much as he needed air itself.

And he had found his purpose at last.