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Read book online Β«Kingdom of Monsters by John Schneider (latest novels to read .TXT) πŸ“•Β».   Author   -   John Schneider



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Otto, the bushes exploded and Junior darted out, jaws agape.

With Mark still completely oblivious, the little rex totally ignored his vulnerable leg and latched onto the first of the Ottos by the throat, ripping like a bulldog.

The other two squawked, brandishing both their claws and needles – an effort that lasted all of three seconds as Junior launched at them, fangs first.

In moments, the little lizards were torn to shreds.

The loose needles and their glowing liquid contents went spinning into the overgrown leaves.

Mark climbed into his driver's seat and started the engine, still whistling.

Junior stared longingly as Mark trundled off down the road.  The little rex had been following the four-by-four all the way from town.

With single-minded tyrannosaur stubbornness, Junior had once again gotten so close – his target unmindful and unguarded – he had been but seconds away – he had been tasting it.

Junior bent to tear loose a piece of lizard drumstick.

But he hated theselittle bastards.

So he guessed he had a few minutes.

In perfect gluttony, Junior gobbled up the rest, leaving not a scrap behind.

And then, with his stomach bloated, his eyes blinked in the direction Mark had gone.

A rex didn't think – it just followed its nose.

Besides, Mark was just simply taking the highway.  That made it easy.

His lips still bloody, and scraps of Otto still in his teeth, Junior scampered out onto the road and followed.

THE END

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Or find more great dinosaur thrillers at www.severedpress.com

One

Akinari Tanaka clutched his rifle tightly as he marched prisoners along a dirt road that parted the small atoll. A superior private, his collar was adorned with red patches and three gold stars. Four privates assisted him, carrying their rifles at port arms, boxing in the prisoners. The guards were called Hetai on the Japanese mainland, the Emperor’s foot soldiers.

Neither of the two naked men that dawdled along the muddy lane presented signs of a threat. They were simple people, local natives, and not prisoners of war.

Tanaka questioned to himself the reason for their capture, but he did not voice his concern. He took orders and was promoted faster than others due to his loyalty during recent combat service in Manchuria. When the Jun-i (warrant officer) had instructed Tanaka to assemble the armed guard and lead the prisoners from the makeshift stockade to the hill beyond the old Government House, Tanaka felt that three soldiers would be suitable. The Jun-i demanded otherwise; he wanted more soldiers on the working party. He commanded the garrison, and, as a warrant officer, served as its highest-ranking soldier.

Somehow, the captured natives held significant value. Escape was not acceptable. He selected his friend, Osamu, to complement the security detail. Osamu was loyal to him, the most senior of the four privates; pudgy, and like the others, he’d never experienced combat.

A light rain stippled Tanaka’s khaki uniform, and mud caked his boots and kicked up on his puttees, wrapped tightly around his lower legs in a crosshatch pattern to provide protection from the jungle environment. Two of the privates had bayonets affixed to their Sanpachi 38 (Arisaka) bolt-action rifles. Pushing the captives along with jabs to their shoulders, a few thrusts hit with force, drawing blood and cries of pain.

He told the soldiers to cease injuring the prisoners at once. The Jun-i had instructed Tanaka to deliver them without harm.

Everyone settled down and became more alert as they turned onto a narrow path.

Slowly ascending a hill, Tanaka scanned the dense foliage. Fetid odors of decayed vegetable matter wafted through the humid air from the jungle floor. Something moved within the canopy of tropical vegetation. It almost seemed to be trailing them.

A chill ran up his spine, despite the humidity. He halted and shouldered his rifle.

The remainder of the caravan moved ahead, while Tanaka discerned the situation. He doubted the Americans had landed, but they were fighting on islands nearby, so he couldn’t be sure. Tanaka had greater concerns about natives trying to rescue the prisoners.

Maybe they will try to free their tribesmen? He wondered.

A large palm frond ruffled, and a shadow moved through the dense brush. Smaller than the size of a man, Tanaka breathed a sigh of relief and started after the others.

Just a large lizard, he thought, picking up his pace. But it seemed very large.

The column crested the hill, and Tanaka lost his breath as he closed the distance. He topped the plateau and a great expanse of ocean came into view. Soldiers formed a semicircle in a clearing. The Jun-i stood in the center with a Gocho (corporal) beside him holding a samurai sword. His commander motioned to bring the prisoners into the center of the circle.

A lump grew in Tanaka’s throat. His pulse quickened, but he directed the captives as ordered. Two privates stepped forward and knocked the natives to their knees. Osamu glanced at Tanaka, askance. And then, the Jun-i waved the guards off, and Tanaka’s men stepped aside.

The Gocho advanced upon the kneeling captives. His corporal insignia had silver stars, which shimmered in the grey light reflecting off the blade of his sword.

Both prisoners knelt on the grassy knoll, as raindrops pelted their bare shoulders. Countenances frozen in helplessness met Tanaka’s eyes. Their grim faces were locked in a mixture of agony and disbelief.

With feet planted slightly more than a shoulder-width apart, the Gocho raised the samurai sword and swung with lightning speed. The blade sliced through the back of a prisoner’s neck and the victim’s head lopped off, falling to the ground with a thud. Blood spurted from the cleaved opening, dousing the damp grass.

A smell of copper drifted from the body. The remaining prisoner screamed in terror and tried to stand up, as his tribesman’s corpse teetered over to the ground, headless.

Privates shoved the recalcitrant prisoner back to his knees.

As he wailed in misery, the Gocho whirled the sword through the air in a skillful demonstration, then increased the arc and swung downward fast. The head dropped off so

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