𝘀𝗲𝗺𝗽𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝘀. owen grady

⟩ 22

Safety in Numbers ⤵

The park is a disaster. 

Families and singular people run around crazed; hands waving in the air and feet failing them as they fall to the concrete. Unfortunately, some have already been taken by the flying reptilians. Either by pure chance or by saving someone else. 

Zach and Gray, the boys, Claire's nephews, kept tight on my heels. When a reptile flew over, I ducked them both down to hide their heads.

I looked around, side to side. We couldn't keep hiding behind tipped over tables, depending on the sole chance that they wouldn't see us. The music shop window was broken. I grabbed Zach by the arm, ''In there!''

The boys went first, Zach followed by Gray. I watched as they vaulted over the broken glass, through the window and into the shop. They ducked down behind the concrete barrier, visibly hidden. 

A carnivorous caw echoed the side, unfortunately, I had been spotted. It's elongated head slowly turned, steady it's beady, black eye on my halted figure. In the pitch blackness of its optic, I could see myself; shaking, sweating, afraid. I could see the multitude of dried blood, and the havoc I've been through trying to keep these kids safe. 

Pteradactyl's weren't trained, not like Grady's Raptors. This animal was completely regal, chirping as it's beak fell open and closer again. It had only just finished feasting on another, a shred of torn green t-shirt — now stained red — hung from his teeth. 

It's head craned, tilting an unnatural angle. No matter where it's head went, it's uneasy stare never faltered. I could only assume it was observing me, questioning it's ways on how to tear me apart, rip me to shreds in the easiest way possible. The naturally contrasting colors of red and brown slowly flushed with crimson. 

Suddenly, it cawed. It's stare still never left mine, both of us keeping an eye for sudden movements. It didn't matter anymore, the reptile was tired of waiting. Swiveling around on its front nubs, it cawed straight at me and charged.

My feet wouldn't move. Nothing would. In hindsight, I've been in this same situation with many different dinosaurs. They all turn out the same, I survive and another dinosaur theme park is created. The specific Pterodactyl is no different.

Maybe I wanted it to end differently. Somewhere deep, deep down, I told myself that I was tired of this. I was tired of almost getting eaten by these things, only to survive and replay the scenario again with another. My body seemed to agree, completely unmoving and unresponsive to the carnivorous beast.

I was willing to stand there, accepting something I never knew I thought — until Gray peeked his shaggy-haired head over the barrier, spotted the charging reptilian and shouted:

''NO!''

Then something snapped.

I watched Zach grab Gray by the arm, slowly inching him from behind the barrier and back to the counter. The reptilian paid no attention to the duo, still focusing all it's starvation onto me. Injured and damn tired of dinosaur theme park wrongdoings. 

My good arm flung around, grabbing a chair that went with the flipped over table and lifted it high enough to bash the Pterodactyl across the face. It stumbled, cawing at the blunt to its nose. 

With it distracted, I hurtled over the barrier and grabbed the boys. ''This way! Out the other window!''

The music store was decent-sized, meaning it had two windows and both were broken. We just in one, rounding the Pterodactyl and jumped out the other, now closer to Main Street.