Free Dinosaur Thunder by James F. David Page B

wives, and Leah was especially sensitive to guilty indicators—averted gazes, forced smiles, avoidance of topics.
    “No one was hurt or killed, and you came back with enough meat to stretch our supplies until the herds come back,” Leah said.
    Six inches shorter than Jacob, Leah looked up at him, concern in her piercing blue eyes. Naturally curly brown hair hung to her shoulders, tied in back to keep it out of her eyes. Hard work countered some of the effects of childbirth on her body, so she was lean, having only a modicum of the middle age spread that came to women nearing forty. Tropical sun and heat leathered everyone despite wearing broad-brimmed hats. Deeply tanned, her face creased with smile lines, Leah studied him with genuine concern.
    “Do you know what kind of meat that is?” Jacob asked.
    “I didn’t get a good look,” Leah said.
    “It’s hadrosaur,” Jacob said.
    “Hadrosaur? Duck-bills?”
    Saying nothing, Jacob let Leah work it out.
    “Oh, no!” Leah said. “You stole meat from the Inhumans?”
    “Rustled it right out of their canyon,” Jacob said. “I couldn’t talk Willy and Mel out of it. Believe me, I tried. The rest went along with the Williams brothers just like they do the reverend.”
    Glancing sideways, Leah checked to see if anyone was close enough to hear. Then she looked at Bonnie, who still clung to her apron. Two boys crawling on all fours under a table, knocking over chairs, absorbed her. Bea skipped ahead, almost back to the entrance to their fort.
    “But everyone came back,” Leah said, confused.
    “We got away before they knew we were there, but I’m pretty sure one of them spotted us. Not that it matters. As far as they know, we’re the only ones on the whole damn planet besides them.”
    “They’ll do something,” Leah said, biting her lower lip.
    “Yeah,” Jacob said, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.
    Leah slipped an arm around his waist, leaning into him.
    “Keep the girls close for the next few days,” Jacob said. “Stay in the fort as much as you can.”
    “It’s too hot,” Leah said.
    It was a complaint, not disagreement.
    Reverend called everyone to dinner using the bell. Rescued from the ruins of a Catholic church, the bell had been scorched by one of the many fires that destroyed the city, but the brass bell polished up well. Mounted with a yoke and pillars, the bell could be turned with a big wheel mounted on one side. The bell rang for Sunday and Wednesday services, special events, and for emergencies. Generally, Jacob hated the sound of the bell, since the most common purpose was summoning the Community to church. A lifelong agnostic, Jacob participated in church for two reasons. First, because it was the only way to stay in the Community, and second because Leah was a true believer and Jacob loved Leah. Sitting in church, looking around during Reverend’s long-winded prayers, Jacob caught the eye of many other skeptics, all just as cowed by the reverend as Jacob. If the Community were a democracy, the reverend might get voted out of office, but no one even dared hint of dissatisfaction. Banishment was the reverend’s favorite punishment, and once cut off from the Community, there was no chance of surviving.
    Taking a seat as far from the reverend as possible, Jacob waved at his girls, who beamed with pride that their daddy was sitting at the head table. Rising to his feet, the reverend did not need to ask for quiet. As though of one mind, the crowd quieted, only the few infants gurgling or whimpering. Church-trained, even the preschool children knew to be silent.
    “God has blessed us,” Reverend said.
    “Amen,” responded the crowd.
    Jacob knew what was coming. Reverend was nothing if not predictable.
    “I said, God has blessed us!” Reverend repeated.
    “Amen,” the crowd said with more enthusiasm.
    “We can do better than that,” Reverend said. “God has blessed us!” Reverend thundered.
    “Amen!”