Dinosaur Wars

Then he caught a glint out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head to look sideways across a rolling field of green soybean sprouts. Somewhere, way out there, something had flashed in reflected sunlight. Just about at the horizon.

There! He saw it again. Beyond the wagon-spoke rows of soybeans, in a new-plowed tract of dark brown land, he saw another flash of sun on metal. He checked the road ahead, which was empty, and he didn’t let up on the gas pedal. It seemed like slowing down to find out what was shining over there was not a good idea. He felt the sweat coming up on the palms of his hands.

It wasn’t long before what was over there came to find out about him. Each time he glanced sideways at the metal thing, or things-he could make out three of them now-they were closer. They were some kind of machine, maybe a half-mile distant and moving awfully fast over loose-plowed dirt. He pushed the accelerator down a bit further, but when he looked again they were closer and moving on a line that would cut him off in a matter of seconds. Now he got a good look at them. Good, Lord! They were like nothing he’d ever seen before. They were running on pairs of legs-running fast!

A cold chill flowed through his body as he realized he was about to regret not staying home today. He clutched the wheel tighter and bore down on the accelerator. The speedometer read just over seventy-five and his tires were beginning to float over the loose gravel and washboard. He couldn’t go any faster.

"I’ll be danged," he muttered as the things drew alongside him, their metallic feet pounding the ground but their streamlined silver bodies gliding smoothly above the soy bushes. He peered at the dark canopy glass of the cockpits, but couldn’t see a thing inside.

As the soy field gave way to one of new-mown winter wheat stubble, the machines drew ahead of him and angled onto the roadway. When they deliberately slowed down in his path he took his foot off the gas. The truck rolled to a halt and they turned to face him, spreading themselves across the road twenty feet in front of his bumper.

"What the hell are those things?"

"Watch your mouth," his mother scolded.

The trio of machines stood like eerie mechanical gunslingers with their arms held out to their sides, ready for a fight.

"Now Mother," Eastley said. "D-don’t you be s-scared. I’ll handle this." Somehow, he thought, I’ll handle it. But how? While the machines took stock of him and his truck, he squinted into the glare coming off their dark canopies. There was someone-or something-inside each machine, but he couldn’t quite make them out. Then to his surprise the truck’s passenger door opened and he turned to see his mother stepping down onto the roadway.

"Mother? Mother, get back in here . . ."

Heedless of his plea, she walked out in front of the truck and stood up as straight as her ancient little bones would let her, facing the three menacing machines. Then she reached into her purse and came up with her old black Bible, which she raised above her head and held out in one white-gloved hand toward the invaders. Everything was frozen for a moment except the bible’s red ribbon bookmark fluttering in the breeze.