Free Dinosaur Thunder by James F. David Page A

to walk over and close the door later. Right now, she had to get to the store and buy a case of Alpo.

 
    10
    Feast
    When dinosaurs came to the present, we were finally able to answer the question that many of us have been asking since the beginning of recorded history. Dinosaurs taste like a gamey emu.
    —Chef/owner, Dinosaur Café
    Unknown Time
Neverland
    The smell of barbecuing hadrosaur meat was intoxicating, putting the semi-starved Community in a party mood. Skinny children chased one another, roughhousing in ways they could not get away with on any other day. Too busy and too distracted, their parents ignored the misbehavior. Fragrant smoke rose from three pits where enough meat roasted to feed the entire Community. The pits were just outside the former Home Depot that served as the human fort. Pickets watched from the top of the earthen berm bordering the compound. The setting sun silhouetted guards on the berms, rifles on their hips or across shoulders providing a sense of security. On the other side of the berm, one hundred yards of cleared forest served as a killing field. Each day, older children armed with machetes patrolled the field, hacking and chopping the vegetation back, a never-ending war with nature.
    Torches were lit as the shadows deepened. Mothers with children slung on their backs prepared bowls of roasted corn, potatoes, and yams taken from dwindling supplies. It was an extravagant meal, but few grumbled and none grumbled out loud. The reverend declared there would be a feast, so there would be a feast. At least in this, Jacob agreed with the reverend. There was little enough to celebrate in the dwindling Community.
    Despite the rambunctious children, sprinkling of babies, and pregnant women, the Community was dying. Child mortality was high, one out of six women died in childbirth, and the hard work of farming and hunting made the men old beyond their years. The few humans who had lived to be old women and men helped as best they could, setting up tables, benches, and chairs, some too infirm even to do this much. Still, there were smiles all around this day, because today there was plenty.
    The successful hunters would sit with Reverend at a special table facing the rest of the Community. Normally, the places on his left and right were reserved for his four wives, but today the wives shifted along the side tables to make room for the hunters. Despite having four wives, Reverend had no children of his own, but his wives, all widows, had ten children that he called his own.
    Jacob carried chairs to the front, taking them from inside the former Home Depot, his wife, Leah, carrying another. Their two girls tagged along, one hanging on to Leah’s apron, the other skipping ahead. Beatrice was six, and Bonnie three. Bea had her mother’s curly brown hair, Bonnie taking after her father with straight hair so dark brown, it was almost black. Bea had her mother’s delicate features, with a petite nose and a small mouth. It was early for Bonnie, but she might have been unlucky enough to get Jacob’s large nose. Both girls wore their best clothes; sky blue dresses that hung below their knees. Leah fashioned the dresses from cloth she found in the ruins of the city. With the help of Grandma Reilly, Leah sewed her first dresses, giving them to the girls for Christmas. Few in the Community knew anything about sewing, so Grandma Reilly was passing the skill down so that it would not be lost when she died. Leah was her best student and had also crafted the loose dress that she wore under her apron. Made from kitchen curtains that Jacob found in a collapsed house, the light yellow dress with blue cornflowers was the envy of the other women in the sewing classes.
    “What’s wrong?” Leah asked as they put the chairs down and turned to go back for another load.
    “What?” Jacob asked, pretending to look cheerful.
    “I can tell something’s not right,” Leah said.
    Husbands could seldom hide things from