New Tracks, Part 18
"New Tracks" by Aelfgyfu
PARTS: 20 plus epilogue
RATING: FRT (fan-rated teen: violence, occasional bad language)
CATEGORIES: Drama, angst, hurt/discomfort, some humour; AU, fix-it
SUMMARY: Noel Miller tries to find his place on Nick Cutter's team; Stephen Hart tries to find his way back onto the team; and Nick has to deal with them, creatures from the past, and his own stubbornness.
SPOILERS: Everything through 2.07 and my own story "Fresh Scars"
WARNINGS: Some tasteless humour, some medical detail
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Many thanks to Brilliant Husband (dudethemath), kristen_mara, and lukadreaming, all of whom acted as betas and made many helpful suggestions and corrections. All remaining errors, infelicities, and poor judgement are my own.
DISCLAIMER: Primeval and its characters are owned by Impossible Pictures, ITV Productions, M6 Films, Pro 7, and possibly other entities I couldn't easily find on IMDb. No copyright infringement is intended, and indeed the story probably won't make sense unless you've watched. So watch the show, buy the DVDs, etc. I do not profit from fic except insofar as comments make me happy.
Additional notes and links to all posted parts at this story's launch page
Almost there!
Previous Part: 17
Chapter 6: Prey
So had Cutter just offered an olive branch? Stephen hoped so, but he'd been wrong before. He put Nick's words aside for later, with all the other things he couldn't think about right now, and focused on walking as fast as he could. Cutter was right. Running with his leg so fatigued would surely be disastrous, especially on the uneven ground. He walked as fast as he could, using the stick to ease the strain on his leg; he could hear Abby break into a jog behind him.
What kind of animal? The two soldiers who had found it hadn't been sure; they'd been vague even about the size. Perhaps a sheep? Maybe that would satisfy the raptors long enough that he could find them-before they went after any more humans.
Keeping up the pace became a strain for Stephen, but Cutter's breathing told him he wasn't the only one. That made him feel a little better. Petty, perhaps, but better.
It felt like the walk took forever. Stephen had little else to occupy his mind except how much damage dinosaurs could do to a human being. When he reached them, he confirmed that the body they had found was indeed an animal's. He only realised how tight his shoulders had been when they sagged in relief.
"Dog, I think," Miller said, still crouched over the remains. He pointed to an intact paw.
Connor asked what kind, but no one bothered to answer. The two soldiers who had found the body stood alert, watching around them. Miller recapped what he'd already learned from them: they hadn't heard anything but had been doing the ordered search when they saw the remains.
Stephen squatted to examine the ground, though it strained his leg. The wounds were horrible; he tried not to think that this had been someone's pet, or what would have happened had its owner been with it on its final walk. He had to look at it calmly to prevent any people from suffering this fate.
The area right around the animal had been torn up and was soaked in blood. Whatever breed it was, the dog hadn't been small, and it had fought back. If they were lucky, some or all of the raptors had been wounded. Stephen swallowed hard and touched the remains; they were still warm, but he wasn't very good at determining how long ago animals had died. He wiped his hand on the ground, then on his jeans. Connor gave him a hand up.
Miller indicated the tracks he'd found. "I reckoned it was worth waiting for you, rather than messing them about trying to follow them in the dark," he said apologetically.
Stephen nodded. The tracks near the body were easy to see-a blood trail led a short way from the dog's corpse. He found himself harder pressed to determine the number of creatures, but that could wait.
"How could the soldiers not have heard the dog?" asked Connor from the rear.
"We're stretched a little thin," Miller said. "If the attack happened while these men were far enough away...."
"And they might have ripped its throat out if it began to bark, or it may have been too busy biting to make much noise," Stephen said far more calmly than he felt. The blood on the ground diminished quickly as he went farther from the body. Perhaps little or none of it came from the raptors themselves. He could still smell the dead animal too strongly to use the scent of blood for tracking.
"How many, d'you reckon, sir?" Miller asked.
Stephen had to keep Miller in suspense a little longer until he reached a place where the tracks were more distinct. "Three. Not certain, but I think I count three distinct sets. I'm fairly sure there aren't more than that."
He heard a quiet exhalation from Miller as he said the number. Miller probably had counted wrong the first time. But he wasn't at his best with smaller creatures. He needed more practice. This was a hell of a way to get it.
"Keep quiet and keep your eyes open," Stephen warned everyone. He wished he didn't have a team of four plus two soldiers following him. They couldn't pass quietly through the woods and fields. Speed and safety were more important than silence, however. He followed the trail as quickly as his bad leg would allow; the tracks were now fresh and clear enough that he didn't have to stop and cast about for them. Perhaps the raptors had heard the soldiers approaching their kill and broken into a run? If so, the team weren't far behind them.
The wooded area opened into a field. The tracks were even clearer in the field, though by now dark had fallen. Stephen did see what looked like occasional spots of blood again, but he didn't take the time to examine them closely. If the raptors were injured, all the better, but in any case, they needed to find them now.
Miller stayed right beside him, holding his weapon at the ready the entire time. Their noise might well flush out the raptors. A glance behind showed Stephen that Abby and Cutter held tranq guns, but Connor had a Beretta in his hand. He stumbled in his surprise, but Miller put out an arm to steady him, and he kept going. Cutter kept too close to him and Miller, but Stephen hesitated to tell him to drop back. He didn't need more arguments. The soldiers brought up the rear with frequent backwards glances, as if they expected the raptors to surprise them from behind.
The raptors' tracks led at an angle across the field to another hedgerow. Damn-that made following harder, and the brush might allow the raptors to surprise them. Stephen pushed through the hedgerow, Miller right beside him, and found tracks on the other side again. His leg was killing him now, but he had to do this, before a person got hurt.
The tracks in the hedgerow naturally proved more difficult to locate, and Stephen sent Miller back to the other side to keep an eye out in case one of the raptors had peeled off and gone back through to the other side. Miller seemed uncertain he would be of much use, but he complied.
They were nearing the end of that hedgerow, tracks still clear on Stephen's side, when a scream froze everyone for a fraction of a second. Was that human? It sounded like it. Stephen's heart began to race. Then Miller shouted to the soldiers, climbed back through the undergrowth towards Stephen, and sprinted off in the direction of the noise. Stephen moved to follow, but an arm held him back.
"They don't need a tracker now, Stephen," Cutter said, his voice heavy and sad. Stephen stopped pushing against the arm as Connor and Abby ran past them.
"They might," he said, but he and Cutter followed the soldiers at a walk. Stephen couldn't run any distance now anyway.
He couldn't see Cutter's face as they both pointed torches ahead of them, but he could imagine the expression. All Nick's anger had gone. They'd seen too many people die from these creatures while they were supposed to be protecting the public.
***
Noel tore through another hedgerow and then hit a wire fence-who the hell put up a fence here? He bit back his curses to shout a warning to the two men behind him and clambered over the fencing. The screaming had stopped, and he thought of Hart's suggestion that the raptors had ripped out the dog's throat. These screams hadn't been canine. He approached a slight rise and took it at speed. As he reached the top, he caught a whiff of something, and he saw light. A torch, on the ground. He could see movement but not details.
He ran down the other side, the light on his weapon helping him see more clearly: creatures, small and fast, attacking something on the ground. He charged towards them, his training allowing him to ignore the instincts that told him to turn back, or at least slow down. He could see them clearly now, and the creatures could see him: three raptors, splattered with something dark, turning towards him. A human body lay motionless on the ground.
Noel dropped to his knees and then his elbows and began firing. All other motion stopped. He was on his feet again by the time the other men had caught up, running forward again. He kept his weapon trained on the heap in front of him, but nothing moved.
Three raptors lay unmoving around the body. He kicked one savagely away from the... oh, God, it was indeed human. He sent another bullet into the first raptor's head, and one of the soldiers followed his lead with a second creature while he moved to get the third himself. After he had finished, he realised the other soldier was simply staring, possibly in shock. Connor and Abby arrived a moment later.
Noel saw that the person on the ground was an older woman. She had been carrying a torch, which she'd dropped. Her legs were covered in blood; her throat and her arms had deep gouges. Her eyes were open and staring.
If the dinosaurs hadn't been dead before, they were surely dead now. They didn't even twitch. Noel crouched to take the woman's pulse. He wasn't surprised not to find one, but he kept trying: her throat seemed too open and gory, so he checked both wrists, bloody though they were.
"She's dead," Abby said gently.
"I have to make sure," he insisted, his stomach turning over as he put a now-bloody hand directly above her lips to feel for breath.
He didn't see a single bullet wound on her; he'd hardly had to think about taking a posture that had ensured he had fired over her but hit the little monsters. He thought perhaps he should feel some relief that he hadn't contributed to her death, but he didn't.
"Is that all of them?" a soldier asked.
"Don't know." Miller wiped his filthy hands on his trousers. He ought to close the woman's eyes, but he hated to touch her face after handling all this gore. He stood up instead.
"Oh, God-Stephen," Connor said in a choked voice, and Miller turned to see Cutter and Hart cresting the top of the slope behind them. Connor started to run back to them.
"My God, Stephen," Abby echoed. "We can't-he shouldn't...."
Noel uttered a curse and started fumbling through his pockets. "Maybe we can cover the body. Anyone carrying a survival blanket?"
Of course no one was. They'd left their packs near the anomaly, which must be nearly two miles away. Connor had managed to halt Hart's advance, but only briefly.
Now Abby was cursing, quietly but fluently.
"He needs to see the tracks," Noel said in resignation.
Abby cut off her stream of profanity as the others drew near, Cutter and Connor now both in front of Hart but not actively trying to stop him.
***
They had not quite crested the small rise when Stephen stumbled again; Nick hastened to get a hand under his elbow. Stephen pulled away, but he still seemed wobbly.
A few steps later, Nick realised Stephen might be experiencing more than physical difficulties. Connor running towards them had momentarily distracted him from the scene beyond, but the soldiers and Abby were clearly standing by bodies, at least one of them human. Nick stood still for a moment, and then numbness replaced horror and he ran a few steps to catch up with Stephen.
Connor tried to wave them back. "Guys, I really think we've got it under control. Erm, Noel got the last of them, I think-I mean, I'm pretty sure. There's nothing you can do here. Really, Stephen... maybe you ought to-"
"Better make sure it's the last of them," Stephen said, walking past Connor. His stride had definitely become uneven, the limp quite pronounced. Nick wondered if that had just happened, or if he'd simply failed to notice earlier. Connor turned and accompanied them back.
"If you're sure-it's-" Connor waved his hands once more and gave up.
Nick made a fervent wish that they had killed all the raptors this time.
***
Stephen knew Connor wanted him to turn back, but he didn't bother paying too much attention to the words. The thought You're too late, you're too late nearly drowned out every other sound anyway.
But they still had to be sure they'd got all of the raptors. If any were still at large, they needed to kill them now. It was his job to determine if any had escaped.
Stephen could see raptor bodies alongside the human corpse. He tried to focus on them instead of on her wounds, but that grew harder and harder as he drew closer. Abby said something, and maybe a soldier did as well. They were only telling him to keep back, not giving him information. He forgot what they said as soon as they had said it.
Stephen stopped a few paces away. Three raptor bodies. They had multiple bullet wounds, and each had at least one wound to the head. Miller wasn't taking chances. Good.
"I don't see any tracks leading away, sir, but you'd best check," Miller told him.
He took a step to the right, and suddenly he could see her face. God, the woman's eyes were open. Her face was splattered with blood, but they hadn't torn into it yet; he could see the pain she'd felt.
Yet he felt nothing. Well, cold inside, and maybe a little sick. Nothing worth worrying about. He could do his job. Except that he was too late for that now, wasn't he?
Stephen handed his tranq gun to Connor to keep his free hand for the larger torch, which he unclipped from his vest while he balanced without the stick for a moment. Everyone stood still as he circled the body, looking for tracks-except for Cutter, who followed him very closely. He saw little immediately around the body except the tracks they'd made coming here, which doubtless covered those the raptors had made. Then he located the woman's tracks: she'd come across the field from a gate he could see if he aimed his torch far enough.
"She was looking for her dog," Connor said suddenly.
A leash and collar lay near the woman's hand. Perhaps her dog had been late in returning. Perhaps the woman had only heard recently whatever warnings Jenny had circulated. Either way, she'd come to save her dog, and died instead. Stephen felt a sudden, harsh pang in his stomach and quashed it as hard as he could. He couldn't think about the woman looking for her pet. Think of raptors. If even one remained loose-it was his job to make sure this didn't happen to anyone else.
Of course, it had been his job to make sure this didn't happen to her. He shelved that thought for later.
He spiralled slowly out from the bodies, looking for tracks in every direction. The woman's prints were clear enough. Then Stephen found some of the raptors', mostly obliterated by human tracks but still barely evident. They'd taken much the same path as the ARC personnel who had pursued them.
When Stephen had spiralled out far enough to brush the bottom of the small slope they'd descended a little earlier, Cutter said, "I think that's enough."
Stephen started at his voice and stumbled, falling onto his left leg as he failed to reposition the stick in time. He'd been so intent on the tracks he'd forgotten Cutter was shadowing him. How could he be so unobservant?
Cutter had him by the shoulders, easing him off the leg so that he could sit flat on the ground, anxiously asking questions.
Stephen managed to say, "No real damage," which seemed to answer whatever Cutter had been saying.
"Stephen, you've done enough. You're exhausted. And have you seen any sign of more raptors?"
Stephen shook his head. Abby and Connor were suddenly beside him, asking after him. Miller appeared as well.
"He hasn't found any trace of additional raptors," Cutter announced authoritatively.
"We'll continue looking, in case," Miller said.
Stephen pulled himself together. "They broke into groups," he objected. "If we missed a whole group-"
"We've got the five Noel originally counted, plus one more," Cutter said.
"That's not a bad margin of error!" Connor interrupted. "Quite reasonable. He couldn't be so far wrong as to miss a whole other group, right? You trained him."
"Look, if we do find something, we'll.... If we need you, we'll call you back. But you have to rest," Cutter said. Even through the daze settling in, Stephen could hear the worry in his voice.
It was over, then. He'd done his damnedest, but he hadn't saved anyone. That woman was dead, and he was out of a job. After all, Lester had only kept him on at the ARC with the expectation that he'd go back to fieldwork.
That was selfish. A woman died, for Christ's sake, and he was worried about his job? It was as horrible a death as Stephen could imagine.
Cutter squeezed his shoulders painfully hard. "Stephen?" Was he still angry? He didn't seem angry.
"Stephen?" Cutter repeated more quietly. "Can you walk to the road? Noel's getting a car to pick you up there."
Stephen could see both Cutter and Connor clearly in the torchlight, because a torch was on the ground. Where was his? Oh. He'd dropped his own torch, he realised. God, his mind was drifting. Cutter and Connor looked seriously worried. Maybe Cutter was right, and he wasn't ready to come back to work. His body seemed to have given out on him. They pulled him to his feet, Miller dragging his left arm across his shoulders.
"I can walk," Stephen said. "I only... can someone pick up my stick?" He'd have had it if they'd given him a moment longer to get to his feet.
Connor handed it to him with a weak attempt at a smile, and he reclaimed his arm from Miller to use the stick again. Connor practically pushed Cutter out of the way to get close get enough to Stephen to support his right arm.
"You sure you're all right to walk?" Abby asked.
"Yes. Leg just... gave out for a moment. The road's not far?" He looked across the field.
"Yeah, right on the other side of the gate-that gate," Connor said.
The gate the dead woman had used when she'd come looking for her dog. She'd probably been worried. Had she worn a ring? Was she married? Did she have a family, or had the dog been everything?
Connor tugged him gently forward, and Stephen started towards the gate.
"I'd better get back to the search," Miller said, but he didn't leave at once. "You... you had us on the right track, sir."
"We were too late!" Stephen's own shout startled him with its volume, and he stumbled slightly, but Connor kept him upright. The pain he felt around his heart dulled the ones in his abdomen and leg.
"We, erm, we got them before they... moved on to another victim," Miller said haltingly. "We-you did more than anyone could ask. It's not your fault."
Stephen could only stare as Miller nodded at him and then took off towards the bodies again. Connor wasn't exactly leading him in a straight line; they were curving around, staying as far from the bodies as they could while still aiming for the gate.
A hand touched Stephen's back lightly, and he saw Abby walking at his left.
"Don't suppose you brought any of your tablets," Cutter asked gruffly from beside Connor.
"No."
"They're at your flat, I assume? You didn't finish them or throw them away, did you?" Cutter demanded.
"Yes. At my flat. Bathroom cabinet." Making complete sentences seemed not worth the trouble any longer. He wasn't fooling anyone as to his fitness.
"Connor should go with Stephen to the b&b," Abby announced.
"Oh! Sure," Connor said. "But what if-"
"I don't need help," Stephen objected. "You're needed here."
"Not really. I mean, the anomaly is guarded, and I'm no use at tracking-not that we need a tracker, because I'm sure-"
"At least make sure he gets safely to bed," Cutter said.
Abby ran ahead to open the gate, and Stephen leaned a little on Connor.
"You should sit down," Cutter said. "Car won't be here for a few minutes."
Wanting to respond, Stephen tried to choose between I'm fine and If I sit, I won't get back up. He settled for leaning back on the gatepost and frowning at Cutter, whose earlier hostility seemed to have drained right out of him.
"Miller's right," Cutter announced. "None of this is your fault. I-I was wrong, Stephen, and I'm sorry. God, if I'd let you come sooner-"
"While we're making wishes, why not just wish the woman had stayed indoors as she was told?" Abby asked angrily. "Or that Stephen hadn't been injured, so that none of this would be at issue?"
Stephen frowned at her too, uncertain whether she was angry at Cutter or the woman or Helen or Leek. He didn't feel any anger himself. He felt instead a mix of horror and guilt gnawing at him from inside. Maybe some of that was pulled muscles. He'd surely strained his leg. If he'd been in better shape, or perhaps if he hadn't stopped so many times while following the tracks, the woman might have lived. They hadn't been that far behind. She should have lived.
A familiar hand squeezed his shoulder again. "Stephen. It's not your fault. And Miller's right: they could have done even more harm if we hadn't found them."
"They're like piranha," Connor added. "A few more minutes and they'd-they might have moved on."
They were all touching him now.
"Get some sleep," Abby said. "Hear that? The car is almost here. Jenny's booked some rooms at this b&b in case we had to stay over. And since it's Jenny, I'm sure it will be nice. Go to bed, get some sleep...."
"I'll have someone from the ARC bring your tablets," Cutter told him, letting go of him.
Stephen's shoulder suddenly felt cold where Cutter's hand had been.
The car pulled up. Stephen dragged himself awkwardly into the back with some help from the others. Connor sat in the front so that Stephen could stretch out his leg on the rear seat. Stephen managed to hold himself together for the whole car ride. Connor sent their driver inside to deal with the b&b and helped Stephen out of the car. A woman started to fuss as they got into the building, but Connor managed to brush her off. He got the key and let Stephen into a room.
It was en suite. Unable to hold back the images of the dead woman any longer, Stephen lurched into the bathroom. He flung open the toilet lid, and hunched over it. Connor was beside him a moment later, asking what he could do. Stephen leaned heavily against the wall next to the toilet. Waves of nausea roiled through him, but nothing came out. That was good, since vomiting would hurt his abdomen even more. He had forgotten how much he needed those muscles just for walking.
As his breathing slowed again, Stephen blurted out, "She just wanted her dog. She was worried about her dog!" He rubbed a hand over his eyes, feeling tears building.
"Yeah," Connor said shakily, loosening up a bit to sit cross-legged on the floor. "We do stupid things for our pets sometimes, don't we?"
Stephen shook his head. "A pet isn't worth somebody's life," he said, but he thought, If I'd been faster....
"If we hadn't all been trying to get Rex back, we'd never have been trapped in that damned building." Connor's voice still shook. "We let Leek capture us even though we knew about the conspiracy!"
Stephen knew Connor felt bad about not saying anything when Cutter fired him, that day he'd missed the call about the mammoth, before his injuries. He never realised Connor blamed himself for the whole... fiasco.
He had to wrack his brain to come up with an answer. "You couldn't know Caroline was involved."
"We should have been more careful."
"You can only be so careful," Stephen said.
"Yeah," Connor said. "And Cutter was trying to be careful with you, this time. Because none of us did a good job of it before."
Stephen shook his head. "It's not his fault."
"No." Connor's voice seemed a lot stronger now. "Your injuries, your being off the team-those are Leek's and Helen's fault, just as Abby said. Not your fault, not Cutter's fault. The rest...." Connor let out a breath. "I suppose it's bad luck. I mean... people make bad choices. Raising a smilodon as a pet? Bad choice. Going outside when the authorities tell you to stay indoors? Bad choice."
Stephen could hardly believe Connor would say such things. "They don't deserve to die for it!"
"That's where the bad luck comes in," Connor said. "Going after mer-people from the future without a proper weapon or backup? Bad choice, but Cutter and I lived. Setting up a zoo with animals from the past and future? And conspiring with a head case? Bad choices, but Helen walked away without a scratch."
Stephen frowned. He was sure there was a flaw in the logic, but he was too damned tired to see it. Hang on-he hadn't walked away from all of his bad choices. What was Connor's point again?
"Sitting on the floor by the toilet? Gets to be a bad choice after a bit." Connor stood up and helped Stephen to the bed, carefully placing his stick to lean against the bedside table.
Stephen felt grateful for the help. He could hardly stand on his own anymore. He sat on the bed and looked down at his boots. He should probably untie them, but not falling over took all the strength he had. A moment later Connor knelt. He untied Stephen's boots and had them off before Stephen had fully registered what was happening. Then he was up again and helping remove Stephen's weapons and his tac vest.
"Take then with you," Stephen said as Connor started to lay the Beretta and the tranquilliser pistol on the drawers next to the vest. "Don't need them here." Not falling over was becoming too difficult.
Connor must have noticed, because he jumped to ease Stephen to lie on the bed. He helped Stephen remove his belt. That was good. Even in its sheath, the knife wasn't comfortable.
"Go back in case they need you," Stephen urged him.
"They don't need me. I'm-"
"The inventor of the anomaly detector and the rover, the creator of the greatest mobile database on creatures...." Stephen wanted to add more, but he couldn't think of anything to say next.
"You'll be all right?"
"Yeah." He wasn't lying, at least if he set the bar for 'all right' pretty low. He didn't even feel like he was going to be sick now. He only wanted to sleep. He wanted not to feel anything for a little while.
"D'you want help getting under the covers?" Connor offered.
"No, Connor."
The room light went out and the door closed a moment later. He was pretty sure Connor had taken his weapons.
He'd forgotten to say thanks-and he had so much to thank Connor for. And the others. Even Cutter seemed to have forgiven him.
***
Part 19
***
PARTS: 20 plus epilogue
RATING: FRT (fan-rated teen: violence, occasional bad language)
CATEGORIES: Drama, angst, hurt/discomfort, some humour; AU, fix-it
SUMMARY: Noel Miller tries to find his place on Nick Cutter's team; Stephen Hart tries to find his way back onto the team; and Nick has to deal with them, creatures from the past, and his own stubbornness.
SPOILERS: Everything through 2.07 and my own story "Fresh Scars"
WARNINGS: Some tasteless humour, some medical detail
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Many thanks to Brilliant Husband (dudethemath), kristen_mara, and lukadreaming, all of whom acted as betas and made many helpful suggestions and corrections. All remaining errors, infelicities, and poor judgement are my own.
DISCLAIMER: Primeval and its characters are owned by Impossible Pictures, ITV Productions, M6 Films, Pro 7, and possibly other entities I couldn't easily find on IMDb. No copyright infringement is intended, and indeed the story probably won't make sense unless you've watched. So watch the show, buy the DVDs, etc. I do not profit from fic except insofar as comments make me happy.
Additional notes and links to all posted parts at this story's launch page
Almost there!
Previous Part: 17
Chapter 6: Prey
So had Cutter just offered an olive branch? Stephen hoped so, but he'd been wrong before. He put Nick's words aside for later, with all the other things he couldn't think about right now, and focused on walking as fast as he could. Cutter was right. Running with his leg so fatigued would surely be disastrous, especially on the uneven ground. He walked as fast as he could, using the stick to ease the strain on his leg; he could hear Abby break into a jog behind him.
What kind of animal? The two soldiers who had found it hadn't been sure; they'd been vague even about the size. Perhaps a sheep? Maybe that would satisfy the raptors long enough that he could find them-before they went after any more humans.
Keeping up the pace became a strain for Stephen, but Cutter's breathing told him he wasn't the only one. That made him feel a little better. Petty, perhaps, but better.
It felt like the walk took forever. Stephen had little else to occupy his mind except how much damage dinosaurs could do to a human being. When he reached them, he confirmed that the body they had found was indeed an animal's. He only realised how tight his shoulders had been when they sagged in relief.
"Dog, I think," Miller said, still crouched over the remains. He pointed to an intact paw.
Connor asked what kind, but no one bothered to answer. The two soldiers who had found the body stood alert, watching around them. Miller recapped what he'd already learned from them: they hadn't heard anything but had been doing the ordered search when they saw the remains.
Stephen squatted to examine the ground, though it strained his leg. The wounds were horrible; he tried not to think that this had been someone's pet, or what would have happened had its owner been with it on its final walk. He had to look at it calmly to prevent any people from suffering this fate.
The area right around the animal had been torn up and was soaked in blood. Whatever breed it was, the dog hadn't been small, and it had fought back. If they were lucky, some or all of the raptors had been wounded. Stephen swallowed hard and touched the remains; they were still warm, but he wasn't very good at determining how long ago animals had died. He wiped his hand on the ground, then on his jeans. Connor gave him a hand up.
Miller indicated the tracks he'd found. "I reckoned it was worth waiting for you, rather than messing them about trying to follow them in the dark," he said apologetically.
Stephen nodded. The tracks near the body were easy to see-a blood trail led a short way from the dog's corpse. He found himself harder pressed to determine the number of creatures, but that could wait.
"How could the soldiers not have heard the dog?" asked Connor from the rear.
"We're stretched a little thin," Miller said. "If the attack happened while these men were far enough away...."
"And they might have ripped its throat out if it began to bark, or it may have been too busy biting to make much noise," Stephen said far more calmly than he felt. The blood on the ground diminished quickly as he went farther from the body. Perhaps little or none of it came from the raptors themselves. He could still smell the dead animal too strongly to use the scent of blood for tracking.
"How many, d'you reckon, sir?" Miller asked.
Stephen had to keep Miller in suspense a little longer until he reached a place where the tracks were more distinct. "Three. Not certain, but I think I count three distinct sets. I'm fairly sure there aren't more than that."
He heard a quiet exhalation from Miller as he said the number. Miller probably had counted wrong the first time. But he wasn't at his best with smaller creatures. He needed more practice. This was a hell of a way to get it.
"Keep quiet and keep your eyes open," Stephen warned everyone. He wished he didn't have a team of four plus two soldiers following him. They couldn't pass quietly through the woods and fields. Speed and safety were more important than silence, however. He followed the trail as quickly as his bad leg would allow; the tracks were now fresh and clear enough that he didn't have to stop and cast about for them. Perhaps the raptors had heard the soldiers approaching their kill and broken into a run? If so, the team weren't far behind them.
The wooded area opened into a field. The tracks were even clearer in the field, though by now dark had fallen. Stephen did see what looked like occasional spots of blood again, but he didn't take the time to examine them closely. If the raptors were injured, all the better, but in any case, they needed to find them now.
Miller stayed right beside him, holding his weapon at the ready the entire time. Their noise might well flush out the raptors. A glance behind showed Stephen that Abby and Cutter held tranq guns, but Connor had a Beretta in his hand. He stumbled in his surprise, but Miller put out an arm to steady him, and he kept going. Cutter kept too close to him and Miller, but Stephen hesitated to tell him to drop back. He didn't need more arguments. The soldiers brought up the rear with frequent backwards glances, as if they expected the raptors to surprise them from behind.
The raptors' tracks led at an angle across the field to another hedgerow. Damn-that made following harder, and the brush might allow the raptors to surprise them. Stephen pushed through the hedgerow, Miller right beside him, and found tracks on the other side again. His leg was killing him now, but he had to do this, before a person got hurt.
The tracks in the hedgerow naturally proved more difficult to locate, and Stephen sent Miller back to the other side to keep an eye out in case one of the raptors had peeled off and gone back through to the other side. Miller seemed uncertain he would be of much use, but he complied.
They were nearing the end of that hedgerow, tracks still clear on Stephen's side, when a scream froze everyone for a fraction of a second. Was that human? It sounded like it. Stephen's heart began to race. Then Miller shouted to the soldiers, climbed back through the undergrowth towards Stephen, and sprinted off in the direction of the noise. Stephen moved to follow, but an arm held him back.
"They don't need a tracker now, Stephen," Cutter said, his voice heavy and sad. Stephen stopped pushing against the arm as Connor and Abby ran past them.
"They might," he said, but he and Cutter followed the soldiers at a walk. Stephen couldn't run any distance now anyway.
He couldn't see Cutter's face as they both pointed torches ahead of them, but he could imagine the expression. All Nick's anger had gone. They'd seen too many people die from these creatures while they were supposed to be protecting the public.
***
Noel tore through another hedgerow and then hit a wire fence-who the hell put up a fence here? He bit back his curses to shout a warning to the two men behind him and clambered over the fencing. The screaming had stopped, and he thought of Hart's suggestion that the raptors had ripped out the dog's throat. These screams hadn't been canine. He approached a slight rise and took it at speed. As he reached the top, he caught a whiff of something, and he saw light. A torch, on the ground. He could see movement but not details.
He ran down the other side, the light on his weapon helping him see more clearly: creatures, small and fast, attacking something on the ground. He charged towards them, his training allowing him to ignore the instincts that told him to turn back, or at least slow down. He could see them clearly now, and the creatures could see him: three raptors, splattered with something dark, turning towards him. A human body lay motionless on the ground.
Noel dropped to his knees and then his elbows and began firing. All other motion stopped. He was on his feet again by the time the other men had caught up, running forward again. He kept his weapon trained on the heap in front of him, but nothing moved.
Three raptors lay unmoving around the body. He kicked one savagely away from the... oh, God, it was indeed human. He sent another bullet into the first raptor's head, and one of the soldiers followed his lead with a second creature while he moved to get the third himself. After he had finished, he realised the other soldier was simply staring, possibly in shock. Connor and Abby arrived a moment later.
Noel saw that the person on the ground was an older woman. She had been carrying a torch, which she'd dropped. Her legs were covered in blood; her throat and her arms had deep gouges. Her eyes were open and staring.
If the dinosaurs hadn't been dead before, they were surely dead now. They didn't even twitch. Noel crouched to take the woman's pulse. He wasn't surprised not to find one, but he kept trying: her throat seemed too open and gory, so he checked both wrists, bloody though they were.
"She's dead," Abby said gently.
"I have to make sure," he insisted, his stomach turning over as he put a now-bloody hand directly above her lips to feel for breath.
He didn't see a single bullet wound on her; he'd hardly had to think about taking a posture that had ensured he had fired over her but hit the little monsters. He thought perhaps he should feel some relief that he hadn't contributed to her death, but he didn't.
"Is that all of them?" a soldier asked.
"Don't know." Miller wiped his filthy hands on his trousers. He ought to close the woman's eyes, but he hated to touch her face after handling all this gore. He stood up instead.
"Oh, God-Stephen," Connor said in a choked voice, and Miller turned to see Cutter and Hart cresting the top of the slope behind them. Connor started to run back to them.
"My God, Stephen," Abby echoed. "We can't-he shouldn't...."
Noel uttered a curse and started fumbling through his pockets. "Maybe we can cover the body. Anyone carrying a survival blanket?"
Of course no one was. They'd left their packs near the anomaly, which must be nearly two miles away. Connor had managed to halt Hart's advance, but only briefly.
Now Abby was cursing, quietly but fluently.
"He needs to see the tracks," Noel said in resignation.
Abby cut off her stream of profanity as the others drew near, Cutter and Connor now both in front of Hart but not actively trying to stop him.
***
They had not quite crested the small rise when Stephen stumbled again; Nick hastened to get a hand under his elbow. Stephen pulled away, but he still seemed wobbly.
A few steps later, Nick realised Stephen might be experiencing more than physical difficulties. Connor running towards them had momentarily distracted him from the scene beyond, but the soldiers and Abby were clearly standing by bodies, at least one of them human. Nick stood still for a moment, and then numbness replaced horror and he ran a few steps to catch up with Stephen.
Connor tried to wave them back. "Guys, I really think we've got it under control. Erm, Noel got the last of them, I think-I mean, I'm pretty sure. There's nothing you can do here. Really, Stephen... maybe you ought to-"
"Better make sure it's the last of them," Stephen said, walking past Connor. His stride had definitely become uneven, the limp quite pronounced. Nick wondered if that had just happened, or if he'd simply failed to notice earlier. Connor turned and accompanied them back.
"If you're sure-it's-" Connor waved his hands once more and gave up.
Nick made a fervent wish that they had killed all the raptors this time.
***
Stephen knew Connor wanted him to turn back, but he didn't bother paying too much attention to the words. The thought You're too late, you're too late nearly drowned out every other sound anyway.
But they still had to be sure they'd got all of the raptors. If any were still at large, they needed to kill them now. It was his job to determine if any had escaped.
Stephen could see raptor bodies alongside the human corpse. He tried to focus on them instead of on her wounds, but that grew harder and harder as he drew closer. Abby said something, and maybe a soldier did as well. They were only telling him to keep back, not giving him information. He forgot what they said as soon as they had said it.
Stephen stopped a few paces away. Three raptor bodies. They had multiple bullet wounds, and each had at least one wound to the head. Miller wasn't taking chances. Good.
"I don't see any tracks leading away, sir, but you'd best check," Miller told him.
He took a step to the right, and suddenly he could see her face. God, the woman's eyes were open. Her face was splattered with blood, but they hadn't torn into it yet; he could see the pain she'd felt.
Yet he felt nothing. Well, cold inside, and maybe a little sick. Nothing worth worrying about. He could do his job. Except that he was too late for that now, wasn't he?
Stephen handed his tranq gun to Connor to keep his free hand for the larger torch, which he unclipped from his vest while he balanced without the stick for a moment. Everyone stood still as he circled the body, looking for tracks-except for Cutter, who followed him very closely. He saw little immediately around the body except the tracks they'd made coming here, which doubtless covered those the raptors had made. Then he located the woman's tracks: she'd come across the field from a gate he could see if he aimed his torch far enough.
"She was looking for her dog," Connor said suddenly.
A leash and collar lay near the woman's hand. Perhaps her dog had been late in returning. Perhaps the woman had only heard recently whatever warnings Jenny had circulated. Either way, she'd come to save her dog, and died instead. Stephen felt a sudden, harsh pang in his stomach and quashed it as hard as he could. He couldn't think about the woman looking for her pet. Think of raptors. If even one remained loose-it was his job to make sure this didn't happen to anyone else.
Of course, it had been his job to make sure this didn't happen to her. He shelved that thought for later.
He spiralled slowly out from the bodies, looking for tracks in every direction. The woman's prints were clear enough. Then Stephen found some of the raptors', mostly obliterated by human tracks but still barely evident. They'd taken much the same path as the ARC personnel who had pursued them.
When Stephen had spiralled out far enough to brush the bottom of the small slope they'd descended a little earlier, Cutter said, "I think that's enough."
Stephen started at his voice and stumbled, falling onto his left leg as he failed to reposition the stick in time. He'd been so intent on the tracks he'd forgotten Cutter was shadowing him. How could he be so unobservant?
Cutter had him by the shoulders, easing him off the leg so that he could sit flat on the ground, anxiously asking questions.
Stephen managed to say, "No real damage," which seemed to answer whatever Cutter had been saying.
"Stephen, you've done enough. You're exhausted. And have you seen any sign of more raptors?"
Stephen shook his head. Abby and Connor were suddenly beside him, asking after him. Miller appeared as well.
"He hasn't found any trace of additional raptors," Cutter announced authoritatively.
"We'll continue looking, in case," Miller said.
Stephen pulled himself together. "They broke into groups," he objected. "If we missed a whole group-"
"We've got the five Noel originally counted, plus one more," Cutter said.
"That's not a bad margin of error!" Connor interrupted. "Quite reasonable. He couldn't be so far wrong as to miss a whole other group, right? You trained him."
"Look, if we do find something, we'll.... If we need you, we'll call you back. But you have to rest," Cutter said. Even through the daze settling in, Stephen could hear the worry in his voice.
It was over, then. He'd done his damnedest, but he hadn't saved anyone. That woman was dead, and he was out of a job. After all, Lester had only kept him on at the ARC with the expectation that he'd go back to fieldwork.
That was selfish. A woman died, for Christ's sake, and he was worried about his job? It was as horrible a death as Stephen could imagine.
Cutter squeezed his shoulders painfully hard. "Stephen?" Was he still angry? He didn't seem angry.
"Stephen?" Cutter repeated more quietly. "Can you walk to the road? Noel's getting a car to pick you up there."
Stephen could see both Cutter and Connor clearly in the torchlight, because a torch was on the ground. Where was his? Oh. He'd dropped his own torch, he realised. God, his mind was drifting. Cutter and Connor looked seriously worried. Maybe Cutter was right, and he wasn't ready to come back to work. His body seemed to have given out on him. They pulled him to his feet, Miller dragging his left arm across his shoulders.
"I can walk," Stephen said. "I only... can someone pick up my stick?" He'd have had it if they'd given him a moment longer to get to his feet.
Connor handed it to him with a weak attempt at a smile, and he reclaimed his arm from Miller to use the stick again. Connor practically pushed Cutter out of the way to get close get enough to Stephen to support his right arm.
"You sure you're all right to walk?" Abby asked.
"Yes. Leg just... gave out for a moment. The road's not far?" He looked across the field.
"Yeah, right on the other side of the gate-that gate," Connor said.
The gate the dead woman had used when she'd come looking for her dog. She'd probably been worried. Had she worn a ring? Was she married? Did she have a family, or had the dog been everything?
Connor tugged him gently forward, and Stephen started towards the gate.
"I'd better get back to the search," Miller said, but he didn't leave at once. "You... you had us on the right track, sir."
"We were too late!" Stephen's own shout startled him with its volume, and he stumbled slightly, but Connor kept him upright. The pain he felt around his heart dulled the ones in his abdomen and leg.
"We, erm, we got them before they... moved on to another victim," Miller said haltingly. "We-you did more than anyone could ask. It's not your fault."
Stephen could only stare as Miller nodded at him and then took off towards the bodies again. Connor wasn't exactly leading him in a straight line; they were curving around, staying as far from the bodies as they could while still aiming for the gate.
A hand touched Stephen's back lightly, and he saw Abby walking at his left.
"Don't suppose you brought any of your tablets," Cutter asked gruffly from beside Connor.
"No."
"They're at your flat, I assume? You didn't finish them or throw them away, did you?" Cutter demanded.
"Yes. At my flat. Bathroom cabinet." Making complete sentences seemed not worth the trouble any longer. He wasn't fooling anyone as to his fitness.
"Connor should go with Stephen to the b&b," Abby announced.
"Oh! Sure," Connor said. "But what if-"
"I don't need help," Stephen objected. "You're needed here."
"Not really. I mean, the anomaly is guarded, and I'm no use at tracking-not that we need a tracker, because I'm sure-"
"At least make sure he gets safely to bed," Cutter said.
Abby ran ahead to open the gate, and Stephen leaned a little on Connor.
"You should sit down," Cutter said. "Car won't be here for a few minutes."
Wanting to respond, Stephen tried to choose between I'm fine and If I sit, I won't get back up. He settled for leaning back on the gatepost and frowning at Cutter, whose earlier hostility seemed to have drained right out of him.
"Miller's right," Cutter announced. "None of this is your fault. I-I was wrong, Stephen, and I'm sorry. God, if I'd let you come sooner-"
"While we're making wishes, why not just wish the woman had stayed indoors as she was told?" Abby asked angrily. "Or that Stephen hadn't been injured, so that none of this would be at issue?"
Stephen frowned at her too, uncertain whether she was angry at Cutter or the woman or Helen or Leek. He didn't feel any anger himself. He felt instead a mix of horror and guilt gnawing at him from inside. Maybe some of that was pulled muscles. He'd surely strained his leg. If he'd been in better shape, or perhaps if he hadn't stopped so many times while following the tracks, the woman might have lived. They hadn't been that far behind. She should have lived.
A familiar hand squeezed his shoulder again. "Stephen. It's not your fault. And Miller's right: they could have done even more harm if we hadn't found them."
"They're like piranha," Connor added. "A few more minutes and they'd-they might have moved on."
They were all touching him now.
"Get some sleep," Abby said. "Hear that? The car is almost here. Jenny's booked some rooms at this b&b in case we had to stay over. And since it's Jenny, I'm sure it will be nice. Go to bed, get some sleep...."
"I'll have someone from the ARC bring your tablets," Cutter told him, letting go of him.
Stephen's shoulder suddenly felt cold where Cutter's hand had been.
The car pulled up. Stephen dragged himself awkwardly into the back with some help from the others. Connor sat in the front so that Stephen could stretch out his leg on the rear seat. Stephen managed to hold himself together for the whole car ride. Connor sent their driver inside to deal with the b&b and helped Stephen out of the car. A woman started to fuss as they got into the building, but Connor managed to brush her off. He got the key and let Stephen into a room.
It was en suite. Unable to hold back the images of the dead woman any longer, Stephen lurched into the bathroom. He flung open the toilet lid, and hunched over it. Connor was beside him a moment later, asking what he could do. Stephen leaned heavily against the wall next to the toilet. Waves of nausea roiled through him, but nothing came out. That was good, since vomiting would hurt his abdomen even more. He had forgotten how much he needed those muscles just for walking.
As his breathing slowed again, Stephen blurted out, "She just wanted her dog. She was worried about her dog!" He rubbed a hand over his eyes, feeling tears building.
"Yeah," Connor said shakily, loosening up a bit to sit cross-legged on the floor. "We do stupid things for our pets sometimes, don't we?"
Stephen shook his head. "A pet isn't worth somebody's life," he said, but he thought, If I'd been faster....
"If we hadn't all been trying to get Rex back, we'd never have been trapped in that damned building." Connor's voice still shook. "We let Leek capture us even though we knew about the conspiracy!"
Stephen knew Connor felt bad about not saying anything when Cutter fired him, that day he'd missed the call about the mammoth, before his injuries. He never realised Connor blamed himself for the whole... fiasco.
He had to wrack his brain to come up with an answer. "You couldn't know Caroline was involved."
"We should have been more careful."
"You can only be so careful," Stephen said.
"Yeah," Connor said. "And Cutter was trying to be careful with you, this time. Because none of us did a good job of it before."
Stephen shook his head. "It's not his fault."
"No." Connor's voice seemed a lot stronger now. "Your injuries, your being off the team-those are Leek's and Helen's fault, just as Abby said. Not your fault, not Cutter's fault. The rest...." Connor let out a breath. "I suppose it's bad luck. I mean... people make bad choices. Raising a smilodon as a pet? Bad choice. Going outside when the authorities tell you to stay indoors? Bad choice."
Stephen could hardly believe Connor would say such things. "They don't deserve to die for it!"
"That's where the bad luck comes in," Connor said. "Going after mer-people from the future without a proper weapon or backup? Bad choice, but Cutter and I lived. Setting up a zoo with animals from the past and future? And conspiring with a head case? Bad choices, but Helen walked away without a scratch."
Stephen frowned. He was sure there was a flaw in the logic, but he was too damned tired to see it. Hang on-he hadn't walked away from all of his bad choices. What was Connor's point again?
"Sitting on the floor by the toilet? Gets to be a bad choice after a bit." Connor stood up and helped Stephen to the bed, carefully placing his stick to lean against the bedside table.
Stephen felt grateful for the help. He could hardly stand on his own anymore. He sat on the bed and looked down at his boots. He should probably untie them, but not falling over took all the strength he had. A moment later Connor knelt. He untied Stephen's boots and had them off before Stephen had fully registered what was happening. Then he was up again and helping remove Stephen's weapons and his tac vest.
"Take then with you," Stephen said as Connor started to lay the Beretta and the tranquilliser pistol on the drawers next to the vest. "Don't need them here." Not falling over was becoming too difficult.
Connor must have noticed, because he jumped to ease Stephen to lie on the bed. He helped Stephen remove his belt. That was good. Even in its sheath, the knife wasn't comfortable.
"Go back in case they need you," Stephen urged him.
"They don't need me. I'm-"
"The inventor of the anomaly detector and the rover, the creator of the greatest mobile database on creatures...." Stephen wanted to add more, but he couldn't think of anything to say next.
"You'll be all right?"
"Yeah." He wasn't lying, at least if he set the bar for 'all right' pretty low. He didn't even feel like he was going to be sick now. He only wanted to sleep. He wanted not to feel anything for a little while.
"D'you want help getting under the covers?" Connor offered.
"No, Connor."
The room light went out and the door closed a moment later. He was pretty sure Connor had taken his weapons.
He'd forgotten to say thanks-and he had so much to thank Connor for. And the others. Even Cutter seemed to have forgiven him.
***
Part 19
***