Aggy and the Dinos

Chapter 16

The garden was cloaked in shadow, the moon's silver balm just penetrating an over grown lavender shrub. There were heavily masticated human remains under an impressive swing set, and the French doors were slightly open; net curtains licked around the glass both warning and beckoning – the house could either be a shelter, or if the house was already occupied, a trap. They all had guns, although John and Glen were the only two with any experience – however normal fire arms were rarely any use against a Dino assailant.

"Send the dog in." John nodded at the open door.

"I'm not making Geezy go in there."

"He's killed more Dinos than we have," added Dean over her shoulder. She mimed shooting him in the face, sending him crashing back against the garden fence, which made them all jump.

"Nice one boffin, that's us announced." Said Glen. Aggy eyeballed them all for a moment.

"Geezy, find 'em," she said. Geezer's tail bristled; he raised a front paw and dropped his head, then trotted inside. After a few minutes of terrified waiting in the dark, Aggy's sense of maternal duty overpowered reason, and she went, gun first, into the house. Inside was white carpet, an expensive looking coffee table, and blood. There was also a sofa, upon which, curled into a ball, was Geezer.

"You little shit," Aggy hissed. He wagged his tail happily and closed his eyes, digesting cheesy balls. A footfall on the floor made her spin round, gun raised; she flicked a V when it turned out to be John. You and Glen stay here, we will look around, he gestured with a sequence of swirling hand movements. Aggy and Dean stood with their backs to the door, and when the two men came back downstairs giving the all clear, Aggy shut the French doors deftly. They were safe.

Across the City another novo-prehistoric dawn rose. The sunlight seemed clearer, yet thinner in the still air; the dawn chorus carried further across the land than it had in millennia – but ever and always chilling the blood were the shrieking calls that never ceased. If one listened for long enough a rhythm and meaning became apparent, even intelligible; the human pattern of language crept through to the surface, and as Aggy sat in the abandoned upstairs bedroom, smoking one of a packet of menthol Vogues purloined from the dressing table, she let herself sink into the current of communication. It was so easy, listening to those voices, which at times were so like a person's, to forget the true nature of the beast. She was sitting that way, smoke curling upwards, a faint half smile playing on tired features, when Dean knocked softly on the door.

"Filthy habit." He said, sitting down on the bed.

"Do you think it matters now?" She replied, her voice a jazz singer's rumble.

"Probably not."

"What's up Dean?"

"I don't know," he said. "I'm scared. I'm really scared."

"So am I." She put the cigarette down and threw the butt out of the window, before taking two more out of the packet and sitting next to him. They sparked up companionably, like teenagers while mum and dad are away.

"I think that fear and doubt are natural states in this age we live in Dean. What I find hard to deal with, really hard, is that it's our fault."

"No it's not," he exploded. "Aggy this is in no way our fault – it was Evergreen and we stopped him."

"No we didn't Dean, we didn't stop him because he'd already done it don't you see? They were still inside Evergreen's cage when we found them! We could have just called someone, they could have just been destroyed and Evergreen would have gone to prison but we didn't! We had to be heroes, we dashed off on some self-centered ridiculous little mission, and now we live in the modern cretaceous. It's my fault. It was my gun." She fell silent and fretted, biting the nail on her little finger. "I just hope that I die after Geezer, so he doesn't have to be on his own." She started to cry.