I’M STILL NOT SURE where it came from, the ramosaurus, as I called it (a kind of allosaurus, but with little ram-like horns on each side of its head), although I’d hazard a guess, based on its later behavior, that it had been watching us for a some time; since well before I’d started the Kawasaki’s engine and kicked it into 1st gear—tearing up the street like gangbusters as Maldano hung on for dear life and the carnosaur pursued, chasing us all the way to the shopping center, where we quickly climbed off and rushed in.
“Get back,” I shouted at Maldano, “Get back!” —even as the animal’s snout darted between the doors and stopped; suddenly, abruptly, jarring the metal framework, cracking the glass into spiderwebs.
“It’s okay,” gasped Maldano—breathing heavily, holding his chest. “It’s okay
