Escapee

A dangerous beast might find something even more dangerous if it goes searching.

Photo by Frank Kroeger on Unsplash

It wasn’t easy to get a blood sample from a diplodocus. The twenty-two ton beast might ignore a needle in its thick skin as if it was a bug, but assessing its health took more than a few milliliters of blood.

That meant a big needle in its neck. Noticeably big.

Usually the researchers handled that by herding the subject into a stall. Hydraulically powered clamps would immobilize body and neck. Then it was just a matter of finding the vein.

DP4 wouldn’t cooperate with that plan. He recognized the stall. He wouldn’t go in. No matter how loudly the hovering drones honked their horns or played their sirens, DP4 veered aside from the stall and ran to a far corner of the enclosure.

Well, he didn’t run. He just walked as fast as three meter legs would carry him. The researchers needed to boost the speed of their single-seat flyers to keep up with him.

“Maybe we should postpone the sample?” transmitted Jason, the newest grad student.

“We already postponed it,” replied Dr. Henderson. As head of herbivore research, she hovered twenty meters above Jason, who was level with DP4’s head. “Look at this way. Once you've taken a sample from DP4, you won’t have trouble with any other specimen in the facility.”

The only reply was a dubious-sounding grunt.

Jason reorganized the drones again to chase DP4 out of the corner, but he veered off from the stall. “This isn’t going to work,” he complained.

“Nope,” agreed Henderson. “He’s desensitized to them now. Time to escalate. Give him a tranq dart.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jason’s flyer moved up ten meters and hovered. He took a moment to wipe dust off his face. The budget couldn’t afford enclosed flyers, so he was held in a chair under four propellers, open to the breeze. He could smell DP4’s musk, released by the stress of the chase.

He needed some time to switch out the sampling equipment for the dart gun. The gun was stashed behind the seat, forcing the occupant to loosen his seat belt. Wyoming Recreated Animal Facility policy kept them deliberately hard to reach so the researchers wouldn’t give in to the temptation to use a dart too easily.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he said a couple of minutes later. “Permission to tranquillize DP4?”

“Granted.”

Jason zipped down, approaching DP4 from in front. He commanded the drones to form a semi-circle around the diplodocus, trapping it against the enclosure’s wall.

The beast twisted its serpentine neck to study the drones, but it didn’t bolt. Just shuffled a bit.

The grad student lined up his shot.

Henderson said, “Remember, that crease in the front of the neck has the least muscle over the blood vessels.”

That’s where he was aiming. Jason pulled the trigger.

The dart flew five meters, sticking in the dinosaur’s neck. Not in the center. It went to the right, embedding just under the skin on the side of the neck.

“Oops,” said Jason.

Then he was deafened by a great trumpeting roar. DP4 was screeching in pain. It rose up on its hind legs, forelimbs flailing at the air.

The grad student zoomed right and up, staying clear of the monstrous head. The teeth were flat—but a head butt from something that size would kill him as easily as a predator’s fangs.

DP4 shook its neck to dislodge the dart—then fell over. Its fifteen ton body slammed into the wall.

By chance, it was against one of the vertical supports in the wall. It held the weight for a moment, groaning metal audible over DP4’s complaint, but snapped. The Kevlar panels stretched between the supports tilted over with it. The reinforcing poles broken off from the support poked through the panels, the steel I-beams ripping them like paper.

One pole pierced DP4’s hide. The dinosaur wallowed back to its feet, bellowing in pain.

Jason could see blood pouring from the puncture wound. “Am I in trouble?”

“We’re all in trouble,” said Henderson grimly. She switched channels. “We have an enclosure breach and an injured specimen. What’s in the enclosure to the south of Diplodocus Three?”

She could see where the fallen support had crossed the lane between them and gashed the wall of the next enclosure over

“I’m checking, Doctor,” answered one of the techs.

A head peeked through the torn wall. Its mouth opened, revealing an array of pointed teeth. The nose lifted as it took a sniff.

“Never mind. It’s the utahraptor. Pass the word we have a predator getting out.”

Henderson left the wounded herbivore to Jason and steered her flyer to buzz the other dinosaur.

It flinched as she flew over but didn’t desist from widening the tear in its wall.

She circled back. What would it be most afraid of? This one was fresh out of the cloning tank. She hadn’t worked with it, but hardly anyone else had either.

Her flyer had four ‘bombs’ she could drop to prod dinosaurs. She picked the ‘screamer,’ dropping it into the lane between the enclosure where the support had come down.

As it landed the bomb started up its siren, wailing like a demon. It was loud enough to hurt her ears. She zoomed up another twenty meters and glanced over at DP4.

The diplodocus was still upright. The head and neck lay on the ground. The tranq dose was starting to take effect, but would take a while to spread through the whole body since it had gone in intra-muscularly.

Jason was hovering by its side, spraying wound foam on the puncture. That would slow the bleeding down, buying them more time until the dinosaur passed out and let them get a veterinary team in there.

Henderson looked back at the utahraptor. It had forced one of its powerful hind legs up into the gap, ripping more Kevlar open. As she watched the monster forced its way through and flopped into the lane.

It didn’t even bother getting back on its feet before the jaws closed on the screamer. The siren stopped. Her ears felt happy. Dr. Henderson was not. “Warning, the utahraptor is loose in lane 8B.”

The utahraptor stood, jaws still crunching the screamer as if it was trying to reach the warm innards of an ankylosaurus. Then it shook its head, spitting out metal and electronics.

No blood. It hadn’t cut its tongue. It must be evolved to eat armored prey.

A new voice spoke on the radio. “Hey! What’s with Yutie? Is he injured?”

Henderson said, “He’s fine, Dr. Okamura. He’s out of his enclosure.”

Yutie sniffed at the I-beam which had stabbed DP4, licking off the blood.

“Jason, shift your drones to the gap, I think the utahraptor may go after your patient.”

“Yes, doctor.”

From her hover, she saw the drone swarm drift toward the breached wall.

“Don’t use the sirens. They seem to attract Yutie. Maybe he thinks they’re wounded prey. Try the lights.”

“Yes, doctor.” Strobes flashed from some of the drones.

Yutie looked into the torn wall of the diplodocus enclosure. It shook its head, pivoted, and began striding down the lane.

“Yutie is moving eastbound in lane 8B,” said Henderson. She followed after, staying above the enclosure walls forming the sides of the lane.

The predator wasn’t moving at top speed. It was looking over its surroundings. When it reached one of doorways into the iguanodon enclosure, it stopped to sniff the edges of the door. It didn’t make any attempt to enter before striding off again.

“I am in an armored car, moving to intercept,” said Todd Sanchez, the most senior of the grad students.

Henderson felt a wave of relief. Todd was level-headed and experienced with misbehaving dinosaurs. He could probably be on some school’s faculty by now if he hadn’t extended his work at the Wyoming Recreated Animal Facility.

She kept narrating the movement of the utahraptor. She contemplated getting out her dart gun and dismissed it. The predator was a small target on the move. She didn’t like her odds of getting a hit, and she might lose sight of it while digging out the gun. Then they’d only have the beacon on its tracking collar to go by.

“Approaching intersection of 8B and 5D,” she transmitted.

“So am I,” replied Todd.

An armored car pulled through the intersection and stopped a few meters into 8B. It was almost as wide as the lane, and about two and a half meters tall.

The utahraptor was only two meters tall itself, but more than six long. It looked like a battering ram on legs to Henderson, used to the more placid builds of her herbivores.

“Good timing, Todd,” said Henderson. “You blocked it.”

Yutie pulled up a moment at the sight of the armored car, then accelerated toward it. Henderson wondered if it was mistaking the steel-plated vehicle for prey. Or if it just saw Todd through the armored windshield and wanted him as prey.

The utahraptor ran to the vehicle, crouched for an instant, then sprang over it. Claws scratched the paint on its roof. Then it was running again, still headed east.

Todd made a comment not in compliance with the Facility standards for radio communication.

“I still have it in sight,” said Dr. Henderson.

Dr. Okamura and a couple of techs started chattering over where the predator might go. It was going to reach the outer wall of the Facility soon. Hopefully that would stop it.

“This is Max. I have a meat load. Where should I drop it?”

Henderson looked up. A helicopter was approaching the Facility. A real chopper, not one of the dinky personal flyers. She saw a load slung under it. By the size it was probably a couple of cow carcasses. That was a typical meal for the larger predators. A bit much for Yutie.

Hopefully it would gorge itself then take a nap.

She lifted up a bit to see where Yutie could go. “Drop the meat where 8B meets the outer wall.”

“On it.”

The helicopter was noisy enough to catch Yutie’s attention. It paused and watched as the helicopter hovered, then leapt up as the carcasses dropped to the ground. Yutie advanced on the meat, head weaving from side to side as it studied the pile.

Henderson loosened her seat belt. When it started feeding, she’d be able to hit it with a tranq dart. She reached behind her seat for the dart rifle.

Yutie sniffed at one cow carcass, then the other. It licked a sliced open neck.

The raptor looked up, stretching up its neck, tail pressing against the dirt. It let out an ululation Dr. Henderson had never heard before.

“Oh, that’s fascinating,” said Dr. Okamura. “It reminds me of a wolf’s howl. We’ve theorized utahraptors are pack hunters. This would support that hypothesis.”

Yutie relaxed from the stretch. It stood still a moment—listening?—then started north along the exterior wall.

“What the hell? It didn’t take a single bite,” said Henderson. She abandoned the rifle and followed the raptor, reporting its movement.

Okamura replied, “Oh, his last feeding was only six hours ago. But it is surprising he didn’t eat at all. He must be searching for his pack.”

She didn’t argue with him. Catching the dinosaur was more important than analyzing its behavior. “Utahraptor still northbound along outer wall.”

There was cross-chatter on the radio as various technicians and scientists offered their proposals for trapping the beast. One tech skipped forming a consensus. “I am closing the gates at 6A and 7B.”

Henderson could see the gates swinging out. They were normally against their walls, waiting for emergencies such as this one. One pivoted to block the lane between the outer wall and the ceratopsian enclosure. Another blocked the east-west lane, creating a dead end.

She wished the Facility had gates for every intersection, but the budget wouldn’t allow it. “Anyone have a tranq rifle available?”

If Yutie stayed in the dead end, she’d dig hers out.

Nope. The utahraptor glanced at the blank walls, sniffed at the door into the ceratopsian enclosure, then spun on one foot and headed south.

She flew after it, reporting on its movements.

The thing didn’t even give the cow carcasses a sniff as it passed by them again.

Todd transmitted, “I have my tranq rigged, moving to intercept.”

The armored cars carried a tranquillizer gun which could be fitted to a roof bracket. It wasn’t as accurate as the hand-held ones, but the armor let the driver get as close as he wanted without being eaten.

Another gate started swinging closed. The tech had triggered it too late. The predator sprinted toward the gap.

The gate slammed into Yutie’s nose. The beast squealed in pain. It didn’t back off. The small forelimbs scratched at the gate. The powerful rear legs planted themselves in the dirt and pushed.

Dr. Henderson twisted in her flyer. If the animal was stuck, she could get a shot in. She grabbed the tranq gun’s strap and pulled it from the brackets.

When she was facing forward again, the dinosaur had pushed the gate back enough to press through up to its shoulders. She aimed for the spine.

The gate bent under the pressure. Yutie pushed through and loped down the lane.

Muting her mike, Henderson took a moment to vent her feelings. She slung the gun around her neck so she could take the flight controls in both hands again.

The utahraptor was keeping a good pace going.

“Good work with the gates,” said Dr. Okamura. “We’ve immobilized Yutie. Is anyone in position to tranq him?”

“Yutie’s not immobilized,” replied Henderson. “It’s still moving south.”

“The display shows his position is constant.”

She cursed again, unmuted. “The gate must have scraped the tracking collar off.”

“In position to tranq it,” transmitted Todd.

Henderson looked ahead. Yes, the armored car was sitting in the lane, moving to meet Yutie head on. She upped her altitude ten meters. Even if Todd missed, his shot was unlikely to hit the flyer . . . but a dinosaur-sized dose was lethal to a human.

Yutie picked up its pace. It hadn’t been bothered by the armored car on their last encounter. It would probably jump over it again—which would give Todd a perfect opportunity for a point blank shot.

“Parked,” said Todd as he stopped the armored car. “I have the aimcam locked on its throat.”

The utahraptor veered toward the outer wall as it broke into a sprint.

“Shooting,” said Todd.

Henderson could see the bright blue dart bounce off the dinosaur’s shoulder.

The beast leapt onto the armored car, one foot, on the hood, the other on the roof, launching itself into the air.

The claws of the right forelimb hooked the top edge of the enclosure wall.

Yutie swung like a gymnast, suspended from the one limb, stretching up its left rear leg to catch the top with its sickle claw. It thrashed for a moment as it hung there, then twisted itself to flop over the wall.

“Where did it go?” demanded Todd.

Dr. Henderson opened her mouth to curse. She couldn’t come up with a powerful enough word.

Full power to the flyer sent her zooming over the wall. Hopefully the beast had sprained something in the fall.

No. It was already on its feet, shaking off dust and letting out another ululation. Then it began striding toward the woods.

Henderson activated her mike. “The utahraptor is outside the facility. I repeat, it’s outside the facility.”

That shut up the chatter on the radio.

She sent her flyer after it. The tranq rifle kept bumping her arms as she flew, making the flyer jitter instead of the usual smooth flight. Her battery was down to 40%. She needed to make sure she didn’t get grounded near the beast. Even if it wasn’t hungry, it would want to know what a human tasted like.

The WRAF Director came on the radio. “I’ve notified the Bridger-Teton rangers we’ve had an escape. Everyone who can pursue, grab a vehicle. Now.”

Henderson could follow Yutie through the woods easily enough. Wyoming’s forests weren’t as dense as others, so she caught the occasional glimpse, and the dinosaur shook enough trees to make its location plain even when out of line of sight.

She looked around for signs of people. None so far. WRAF was in this part of the national forest because it was the least popular area for hikers and campers.

A nightmare vision of Yutie happening upon a Girl Scout campout flashed into her mind.

More flyers were following her from the facility. Max reported he’d have his helicopter back in the air in ten minutes, with their best high-powered tranq guns and marksmen on board. Dust plumes said some of the armored cars were coming. But they couldn’t handle the terrain as well as Yutie could.

A civilian drone was parallelling her. No markings. Probably belonged to one of those streamers who tried to sneak peeks at the animals. So much for any hope of keeping the escape quiet.

She hoped the operator was in a safe location. Somebody live-streaming himself being eaten by the utahraptor would not do next year’s budget request any good.

The radio chattered with the flyers and ground vehicles trying to coordinate their actions. Henderson didn’t pay much attention. She focused on not losing track of the dinosaur. The others could follow the beacon from her flyer.

Every five or ten minutes Yutie paused to let out another ululation. Maybe it was looking for its pack, like Okamura thought. It was out of luck. They’d only cloned one utahraptor so far.

If they didn’t catch it fast, there wouldn’t be funding for making more of them.

A hill of bare rock poked out of the trees. Yutie was headed for it. It came into view as it climbed above the treeline, clawed feet sending little showers of gravel down the hill.

At the peak it stopped, let out an ululation, and then looked in every direction.

Dr. Henderson put her flyer on hover and picked up the tranq rifle. The distance was a bit long, she’d need to add some elevation to make sure the shot didn’t go low.

She heard a pop. Yutie looked left, scratching at his neck with a forelimb. Had someone gotten ahead of her and tranqed it?

There was a boom, then another. Blood spurted from Yutie’s flank. The dinosaur collapsed.

By the time she landed on the hill the death throes had stopped. There were two exit wounds, big ones. A smaller wound in the neck was bleeding.

The bleeding stopped.

She called in the death of the animal. She unstrapped herself from the flyer. There was no danger now.

The roar of gasoline engines announced the arrival of three four-wheeled all terrain vehicles, closing on the hill from different directions. The ATVs couldn’t make it to the top, so the drivers abandoned their vehicles, slung their rifles, and walked up.

They all wore hunting camouflage, well suited to blend in to the local conditions. Their ATVs were similarly painted. The fat one and the skinny one were carrying Barrett .50 sniper rifles, which Henderson recognized from the emergency gear at WRAF. The young one had a smaller weapon, though it was still bigger than her tranq rifle.

“Whoo-ee!” cried the fat hunter at the sight of the dead dinosaur. “Now that’s a trophy worth taking.”

“I got the first hit,” said the young hunter, pointing at the neck wound.

The skinny one shook his head. “Trophy goes to kill shot.”

They’d been ignoring Dr. Henderson up to then. The fat hunter turned to her now. “Hey, doc. Which bullet was the kill shot?”

“Figure it out yourself,” she snapped. Two million dollars worth of research and cloning tank time, killed for fun. And for the bounty politicians put on escaped dinosaurs.

“Don’t be like that, doc. You have an obligation to say who gets the bounty.” The other two nodded in support of the fat one.

That was the law. WRAF was to support awarding bounties as needed. There wasn’t anyone else she could pawn the duty off on. She started looking at the wounds instead of avoiding them.

“Not the neck wound. It would’ve taken it hours to bleed to death from that, if it did.” She had them lift the forequarters of the half-ton beast so she could get a better look at one of the entry wounds. “Both the fifty cal shots were lethal. Whichever one was first gets the bounty.”

The drone belonged to the young hunter. He’d videoed the dinosaur’s death. The trio gathered around his tablet to watch the video and argue about angles.

Another flyer landed on the hill. Dr. Okamura emerged. “You killed him! A priceless and unique specimen, killed for no reason at all! Years of research ruined!”

He flung his arms around the dead utahraptor’s neck.

The fat hunter shook his head. “Inside your research facility, he’s a priceless specimen. Out here he’s a danger to the public, and there’s a bounty to encourage us to put him down soonest.”

“Barbarian,” spat Dr. Okamura.

None of the hunters seemed to take that as an insult. They went back to the video.

After some debate, the skinny one seemed to have shot first by a hair.

“Tell you what,” offered the fat hunter. “Since it’s so close, why don’t we compromise? We split the bounty, and you can have first pick of the trophies.”

The skinny hunter thought a moment. He leaned on his rifle, which was only a few inches shorter than he was. “Split it sixty-forty me. I take the head.”

“Well, fine. Deal. I want the feet.”

The young one said, “Can I have a foot?”

“You can have the tail,” offered the fat hunter. “Plus you’re going to get all those clicks on your video.”

“Yeah, okay. What are we going to do with the rest?”

That drew a shrug from the fat hunter. “Leave it for the scientists. Unless you want to take some meat to sell to the Cajuns? What do we have to break it down with?”

The skinny hunter hefted his rifle over his shoulder. “Got a chainsaw in my ATV.”

He turned and picked his way back down the hill.

Dr. Henderson urged Dr. Okamura back into his flyer and told him to return to WRAF. He shouldn’t watch that part.

More stories by Karl K. Gallagher are on Amazon and Audible.