Dinosaur Wars

Chapter seven - Palace of Monsters

The riot began seemingly without any one person starting it. James Addison was on his way to Broadway. He had brought his buggy on a ferry from the mainland, admiring the colourful lamps of many vessels that crisscrossed the channel. He encountered the knot of workers outside of a printing works housed in a brownstone building. They were blockading other workers from entering the main door, and the size of the crowd spilling out on the road halted Addison's progress.

A police seargent was speaking with one of the protesters, a contingent of some twenty burly constabularly behind him. Those pressing to get in were shouting oaths.

The leader of the protesters then shouted back, over the top of the seargent's head, "They cut our wages by ten per cent. We object and they fire us all! You'll be next!"

The crowd trying to enter surged forward. Then the whole mass seemed to snap at the middle and the fight erupted. Swinging fists were met with police swinging billy sticks over their heads. What was just an angry crowd one moment had turned into a seething, heavy liquid of humanity with waves of violence rolling over it the next.

Addison's horse reared at the furore. He tried to quiet the beast and turn it from the crowd, but the maneuver was difficult as the brawl spilled his way and traffic had built up behind him. A rock flew toward him and glanced off his forehead, dazing him. A line of blood ran by his eye. One of the protesters staggered over, grabbing the bridal of Addison's horse, himself injured from a police clubbing. He dragged at the bridal, trying to gain his balance.

"Help me."

Addison's horse reared, ready to bolt, and he struggled to keep control of it. A policeman rushed up behind the protester, clubbing him from behind and dragging him to the ground. The cop looked up into Addison's face as if to say, "Sorry, sir".

Addison flicked his horse's flank with his whip. He managed an awkward, stuttering turn through the fringes of the fracas, the horse starting the whole time. He threaded his way through the build up of traffic, most of which was also trying to turn from the danger. More police ran through the congestion toward the brawl, billy sticks in hand.

Addison rode on, staunching the wound on his head with a handkerchief. Backtracking through the grid of streets he found a route onto Broadway. There, the gaily promenading crowds seemed odd and alien after the malignant spirit of the riot. Men in silk tophats and evening coats paraded with women in full skirts with lace shawls, dainty hats and gloves. The effortless display of wealth and joyful noises from their lips was stark in contrast to the rough workers and the stern determination of the uniformed cops.

Yellow gas lamps along the street illuminated the wide thoroughfare. The facades of the splendid theaters, too, flickered with gaslight. Addison located the theater he was seeking. A large poster advertising the lecture read 'The Palace of Monsters. Be mystified! Be mortified! Be amazed by the terrible monsters of yesteryear. Witness Anthony Masters, scientist and adventurer, whose expedition of discovery has unearthed miraculous giant lizards that once ruled the Earth.'

                                                                                       *****

The lights had already gone down when Addison entered the theatre. Here, too, were the tophats and lace shawls, along with the couples' young sons in knickerbockers and caps. As Addison found a seat there was a whoosh of air above and a gasp went up from the audience. Some people stood in alarm. A feathered beast flew above their heads.

Addison, too, was startled. The apparition alighted on the stage with explosions and puffs of smoke, and it was then that a man could be seen on its back. As Masters climbed off, Addison imagined the men at the back of the stage operating the pulleys and other devices to facilitate the flight.