Day of the Predator - Alex Scarrow [67]
‘At least it would have been more accurate,’ said Franklyn. ‘But it’s so strange, don’t you think? I mean, Dinosaur Valley State Park isn’t so far away … and the Paluxy riverbed there is covered in fossils from all types of species. How come this jungle valley’s, like, deserted?’ Franklyn’s voice was laden with disappointment. ‘I mean, here we are … the perfect time, in fact, to see all the classic species: T-rex, ankylosaurus, stegosaurus, triceratops, and yet we’ve seen nothing.’
‘It could be the jungle itself is unfavourable terrain for the larger animals.’
‘That’s not true,’ replied Franklyn. ‘It’s nutrient heaven for the herbivores. And where there are herbivores you should also find carnivores. This jungle should be full of them.’
‘Well,’ said Whitmore, looking up the slope at the thinning vegetation and craggy peak ahead of them, ‘no more jungle now.’
They and the rest of the party followed Liam and Becks out of the lush green into a mostly grey-brown world of slate and shingle. Up ahead the slope rose to a fractured cliff face of sharp slate angles. He could see that the robo-girl was already climbing up it, making swift progress from one treacherous handhold to the next. He watched her pulling herself up the sheer cliff face without any apparent difficulty.
Robo-girl. Now they all knew she was some kind of a robot, and after seeing her nearly skewer Laura like one of those mudfish – and, Lord knows, if Liam hadn’t intervened, she would have killed them all, one after the other – there was no way anyone was going to entirely trust her.
Whitmore’s feet slid on the shale as he scrambled awkwardly up the last fifty yards to the base of the cliff to join Liam.
‘We … we’re …’ Whitmore gasped like an asthmatic as he wiped the sweat from his brow. He looked up at the sheer rock face. ‘We’re climbing that?’
‘Yup,’ said Liam.
‘I … I’m …’ He was still heaving to catch some air. ‘I’m not sure I’ll be able to.’
Liam shook his head as he peeled the rucksack off his back. ‘Not a lot of choice, Mr Whitmore. It’s that direction we need to go.’
He swallowed anxiously. ‘Uh … I’m really not so great with heights.’
‘Don’t worry about that, Mr Whitmore. She can pull you up if you’d like.’
Franklyn puffed and wheezed up the last few yards, kicking loose shale beneath his trainers. ‘That goes for me too. I’m exhausted.’
Liam looked up the rock face and saw Becks was already at the top and bracing her legs against an outcrop for balance. She pulled the heavy coils of vine rope off her shoulder, secured one end round her waist and tossed the rest down. It clattered on to the shale with several dozen yards in length to spare.
Liam looked at them both and down at the others making their way up the last few dozen yards of the mountainside. Beyond them he could see the green carpet of the jungle rolling all the way down the steep peak they’d been ascending to the deep valley below. He thought he could just make out the hairline silver glint of the river snaking through the lush emerald carpet, and there it was … a small oval of lighter green no bigger than his fingernail: their clearing.
‘I am ready to proceed,’ Becks called down.
They all studied the cliff face unhappily: sixty-foot high, all razor-sharp edges and craggy outcrops that promised to impale or slice anyone unfortunate enough to take a tumble.
‘Don’t all be chickens,’ said Becks.
Liam glanced up at her and saw she was smiling.
Did she just try to be funny?
‘Cluck, cluck,’ she added in her monotone voice.
Liam shook his head, put his hands on his hips and smiled. ‘So, I see you’ve found a sense of humour, Becks!’
‘I have been observing and learning humorous dialogue exchanges, Liam. I am now capable of delivering basic humorous responses.’
‘Well done!’ he shouted back.
‘You are all little chickens. Cluck, cluck, cluck,’ she said again with a hint of pride in her dry voice.
Not exactly hilarious, Liam decided, as he looked around at the concerned