Free Z. Rex by Steve Cole Page A

make jokes about stuff must prove he was getting used to Zed’s existence. Then again, it was tricky to go on disbelieving when you were hog-tied to the evidence, night after night.
    But it was one thing to accept the existence of talking, flying dinosaurs, another to have to sit so close to those giant jaws, to have those black, unblinking eyes fixed on you hungrily.
    They stood on their tiny pinnacle of rock together, prisoner and jailer.
    “How’re you feeling, Zed?” Adam said suddenly. “Those burns on your face look like they’re getting better.”
    The creature didn’t react. Adam persisted, craving some kind of acknowledgment. “I ache everywhere. But I’m sort of getting used to it.” He noticed a thick trickle of crimson running freely from the shark bites on Zed’s arm. “Hey, you’re still bleeding from earlier. Doesn’t it hurt?”
    Zed regarded him, suspicion in his eyes.
    Adam wondered if here was a possible way to get the animal on his side. “We should maybe try to bandage that cut. It could get infected.” He rummaged in one of the rucksacks for the small navy sweater he’d been using for a towel and pillow. “I could use this to stop the bleeding.”
    As he held up the sweater, the dinosaur growled in warning. Adam was about to back down, but knew an opportunity like this might not come again. If he could only win the creature’s trust, prove that he had some usefulness over and above whatever Zed had planned for him . . . if he could make this thing start to think of him as a friend. . . .
    “You saved me before,” Adam said quietly. “Let me help you now.”
    The dinosaur shifted uncertainly, bared his teeth. Adam’s legs started to tremble. Come on, he told himself, you’ve been crushed up against him for the last who-knows-how-long. He hasn’t eaten you yet.
    Yeah, but you weren’t walking right into his jaws like this before.
    Holding his breath, fumbling like an idiot, he placed the sweater around the beast’s gory arm as gently as he could. Again, Zed made that low warning rattle in the back of his throat. Trying not to whimper, Adam tied the sleeves of the sweater in a crude knot and backed hurriedly away.
    Zed stared down blankly at the dark woolen accessory he had just acquired. Adam bit his lip as an unexpected smile twitched at his cheeks. It looked as though the dinosaur was wearing a big blue bow.
    “There we go,” Adam murmured, turning to hide his amusement. “Much better.” He reached into one of the rucksacks and pulled out the crumpled map. “Wonder where we are now?”
    Zed reached over with his bandaged arm and gestured to somewhere around Newfoundland.
    “Really? So, only about twenty-five hundred miles of Atlantic Ocean between us and dry land, then.” Adam closed his eyes, lacking the will even to summon a hysterical laugh. “We’ll hit Ireland first. Little hop from there, and we’re home. Easy.” He blew out a long sigh. “Still, I guess we can fly by day as well, now—there’ll be no one below to see us. If you’re up to it, I mean. And if we can survive on a gallon of fresh water between us . . .”
    Adam trailed off as Zed turned from him, batting one loose arm of the sweater bandage like an overgrown kitten playing with wool.
    “If we do get to Scotland,” Adam began again, “you’ll be going after the people who hurt you, right? To go so far, you’ve got to be.” He took a deep breath. “Just remember, my dad was only at Fort Ponil for eight days. He was forced to work there.” Just like you’re forcing me to stay with you, he thought. “He would never have wanted to hurt you, Zed. They made him do it.”
    Zed lay down and stared out over the water. “No,” he growled.
    “Yes!” Adam insisted. “And so I want to get back at them too, Zed. Geneflow Solutions has messed up everything in my life. I don’t know what you want from me, but if I can help you get back at them, I will.”
    This time, the huge reptile made no