Chapter Two:
The meeting place was a stretch of sun-baked, high ground overlooking the main valley floor—a place where Marsh could see trouble coming from every direction, but also a place that ensured the Numunuu had the higher ground. They rode out mid-morning: Marsh on Cookie, John the trail boss on his Allosaurus, Tina, and Jase and Mateo on Split and Mambo, their raptor and triceratops mounts, respectively. Marsh was determined to let his sons lead. This trade route, and the delicate peace it represented, was their future. When they arrived, a single Pachycephalosaurus stood silhouetted against the bright sky, its rider perfectly still. This was Red Elk, the chief’s son and the tribe’s emissary. Red Elk was Marsh’s age, maybe mid fifties, with a face that seemed permanently carved into an expression of granite disapproval. His thick, braided black hair was partially covered by a war helm made from a pachy skull, and his face was painted with the traditional white and red clan markings. Marsh remained twenty meters back, letting John, Jase, and Mateo approach the rider.
Red Elk sat atop the Pachycephalosaurus, which was massive for its species, its cranial dome shining like oiled obsidian. Red Elk wore the customary armor that appeared to be made from bone but was known to be some type of metallic alloy. They could also see the long rifle held across the rider's lap, as if he anticipated trouble. The dinosaur shuffled nervously, its powerful legs tapping the ground, yet it obeyed every minute shift of its rider’s weight. The skill was breathtaking, and Lin’s comments about the 81st chromosome sprang into Jase’s mind.
John dismounted first. “Good morning, Red Elk. The Chief expects us?”
Red Elk stared down, his eyes scanning the three riders, lingering longest on Jase and Mateo. “My father is busy. He sent me to collect the offering.” His voice was flat, carrying no warmth. “And to confirm that you have not, as usual, poisoned our land with your presence.”
Mateo, ever the quick talker, immediately jumped in. “Poison? Never! Our herd is cleaner than a river stone, Red Elk. And the Ankylos we brought you are prime stock. We only ran into a little trouble last night. Some bad city folk who wandered off-trail. We handled it.”
Red Elk’s gaze sharpened, dropping to Mateo. “‘Handled it’. You trespassed on our authority. These men were on our land, and they threatened our peace. Do you understand the severity of this intrusion, ranch boy? The price for failure is not merely a few Ankylos.”
Jase cut in smoothly, attempting diplomacy. “We understand the cost, Red Elk. And we apologize for the mess. But we also have a victim with us, a young girl, whom those men had harmed. We removed the threat and handed the trash to your people, as per our agreement. We respect the Numunuu law here: Not our land, not our rules, just like pa says.”
The reference to the law made Red Elk’s lip curl. “Respect is only useful if it is timely. And the lives of Eastern Alliance trash mean nothing to us. The threat to Numunuu children is all that matters to me. You brought a herd through our hunting grounds, and then you drew blood on sacred land. This is a double violation.”
The pressure was mounting. Jase and Mateo exchanged a quick, panicked look. John shuffled his feet, expression unreadable. Marsh, still sitting stone-faced on Cookie, felt the familiar urge to step in, to end the game, but he kept his hands resting on the pommel of his saddle.
Let them learn the weight of the words, he thought. The weight of the relationship.
Marsh continued to observe as Mateo was about to bluster a reply and Jase searched desperately for a calming phrase, as a soft, leathery chuckle broke the silence.
The sound came from Marsh’s right. Marsh didn't flinch, but a faint, knowing smile finally touched his lips.
Chief Quirtsquip sat barely a meter away from Marsh's stirrup, atop a second, older Pachycephalosaurus. The Chief was small and ancient, his face a map of sun-worn wrinkles, but his eyes were startlingly sharp and full of light. He hadn't just ridden up quietly; he had somehow moved both himself and his mount without making a sound. Not even Cookie had seemed to notice. The dinosaur, like its rider, was painted with red and white markings. He held a feathered ornamental lance loosely across his lap.
“And just how long were you planning to let them poor boys wriggle, Marsh?” the Chief asked, his voice a dry, rustling sound, like the whispering of dry grass.
Marsh turned fully toward the Chief, his rigid posture relaxing. “Just a bit of good humored fun Red Elk and I set up Chief. Don’t want the boys to have it too easy now. They wouldn’t learn anything otherwise.”
“Ah, the one with the quick mouth. That is the one you call Mateo, yes?” Quirtsquip observed, nodding toward the distant, tense tableau. “He is too much like a horntail wasp. He must learn to sting only when required. And the tall one might have too much of a kind heart for his own good. Like you.”
“They’re learning,” Marsh confirmed. “Twenty-five years of peace can make people complacent. We just thought they should know what it feels like to deal with a hostile situation that can’t be solved with violence of a fancy gadget. Your son is doing the Lord’s work over there, Quirtsquip.” Marsh said with a smile.
The Chief looked at the plain wedding band on Marsh’s left hand, then back to the T-Rex. “Twenty-five years, feels like it flew by too fast. Faster than the time it took to achieve it.”
Quirtsquip’s voice took on a more serious tone as he turned to face Marsh, “You have made a home for many from the ruins of the wasteland. You find a way to coexist with the Thundersaur. Your Calli heals the land you and I once fought to ruin. I respect this. I respect the peace you maintain. And I’m forever grateful for what she did for the tribe. An entire generation of my people including my own grandchildren are alive today thanks to her. But what is this trouble you brought last night, old friend. You brought the smell of old Barons and blood to my doorstep.”
“Trouble finds a rancher, Chief, even when he tries to stay away from it,” Marsh said, rubbing the side of Cookie’s neck. “We dealt with the threat, and the desert claimed them, as it should. I honestly am not entirely sure what they were even doing out here. I was hoping you may have gotten some information out of them.”
Quartzquip shook his head and grunted, ”Mmm, unfortunately the cyber devils always have their little tricks. When the leader knew he was done for he activated some kind of kill command over the others then he detonated a device in his own chest.”
Marsh looked concerned, but Quartzquip raised a hand,”No one was hurt but him, fortunately. We've seen what happens when those Eastern Alliance cowards are cornered, so we prepared accordingly.” Quartzquip gestured to the ongoing quarrel in front of them and smirked.”What is my son charging you for this little display, he's even wearing his ceremonial helmet for pity's sake? This looks like one of those goofy dramas that the Southern empire puts out on the open net"
Marsh shook his head,”Red Elk was happy to do it, who wouldn’t want to provide a valuable lesson to the next generation.”
Quirtsquip gave Marsh a knowing stare. Marsh bobbed his head side to side,
” Five Stegos.”
Quirtsquip laughed, “Five Stegos? Sounds like a good price for some theatrics. Makes a father proud.”
“Yes, he's definitely a chip off the old block,” Marsh said with a rye grin.
”Are you still sore about that mastodon heart thing, that was almost thirty years ago.” Quirtsquip said dismissively.
“When the old chief offered me the heart after the hunt, you told me I had to eat the entire thing or he would be offended and end the peace deal.” Quirtsquip chuckled. Marsh continued“ You also told me he didn’t speak English. Then when I damn near choked to death you said I owed the tribe ten Trics in ‘restitution for my shame’.”
Quirtsquip made a face of mock hurt, “No no no, there must have been something lost in the translation. Besides, I thought you were a mighty warrior, up to the challenge. It's not my fault you can’t handle a small trial like eating a little mastodon heart.
“Little!,” Marsh said incredulously. “ It had to weigh 22 kilograms.”
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Quirtsquip pulled a small flask from his saddle pack, and handed it to Marsh with a wide grin,
”We used to have fun didn’t we?
Marsh’s face also sprouted a wide grin as he accepted the flask and took a drink,” Yes we did my friend.”
Quirtsquip took back the flask and also had a swig ,”Lets go save those youngins of yours, My son looks like he is enjoying himself a little too much.”
At that moment, unable to find another diplomatic answer, Mateo threw up his hands in surrender. “Look, we’re sorry! We did our job, and we’re willing to pay any extra fines! Just tell us the cost!”
Red Elk held the silence for one beat longer than necessary, then threw back his head and let out a huge, roaring laugh that echoed off the distant rock walls.
Jase and Mateo instantly looked surprised. Their expressions swung from panic to confusion, and then to sheepish anger as they saw Jon, Marsh, and Quirtsquip also laughing.
“You no good, son of a…..!” Mateo shouted, dropping his reins, relieved but furious.
Red Elk slid gracefully off his Pachycephalosaurus, his austere mask replaced by a wide, amused grin. “Don’t be a sore boys, just some good natured fun at your expense.” he said as he shook both men's hands,”Besides, a lot of the best lessons come from old men playing jokes on the young.” He pointed to Mateo,”You are fast to draw blood, but slow to see the joke. A wise man must be ready for both.” He walked over and slapped John on the back, who returned the friendly gesture.
Marsh, now dismounting, walked toward the group. “Quirtsquip and his family are like that, sons. They test the spirit before they trust the word. You did well, though I owe your Uncle Red Elk five Stegos now, just for the performance.”
The meeting dissolved into casual conversation, with the tribe already moving into the valley to receive the promised Ankylosaurus pups. Red Elk explained that the real purpose of the meeting was to travel with the McClintock herd for the rest of the day, as they were also moving their Pachycephalosaur herds eastward to a new grazing territory.
Soon, the two groups, the McClintock ranch hands on their various mounts, and the Numunuu riders on their uniquely trained Pachycephalosaurs, were moving together through the scrubland. The younger generation rode near the middle, while Marsh and Quirtsquip, flanked by John and Red Elk, took the lead.
“Do you remember the night we blew up that armory inside of Fort Kingman?” Marsh recalled, his voice full of warmth.
“I remember Cookie getting stuck in the mud trying to get clear, and you had to pull him out with a line of 20 Pachys.” John said.
Quirtsquip chuckled. “I remember that upstart warlord swore it was a Sobek attack, not a rowdy group of deserters and tribal riders. He spent a month chasing shadows after that. Some leftover general from the war. What was his name, Carp, Crap? It was the only time I have ever seen you cry, Marsh.”
The conversation flowed easily between Marsh, Red Elk, and Chief Quirtsquip and John. Jase and Mateo rode closer now, no longer fearing the Chief’s son, but listening intently to the war stories that had forged their present peace.
“It was Kapp, General Kevin Kapp, one of Mancha’s officers who was to stupid to realize there was a reason he got left behind, away from where he could be in the way when everyone else died at the front. And I cried because you made me leave my boots in the mud,” Marsh retorted, shaking his head. “Best damn boots I ever owned.”
Quirtsquip chuckled. “He was only angry because Calli wouldn’t let him into the tent with muddy feet.”
Jase, seizing a lull in the old men’s exchange, leaned forward on Split, eager to contribute. “Pa, Chief, I heard a story once, about a running battle you guys fought, years ago, maybe right after the Barons fell?”
“The one with the motorcycles?” Jase pressed. “The leather-clad gang of psychos, led by a giant guy in a white mask? Hugeless, or something?”
Marsh and Quirtsquip exchanged a look, a shared memory passing between them.
Red Elk, who had been riding silently, snorted and shifted on his Pachycephalosaurus. “The Humongous,” Red Elk corrected, his voice flat. “A stupid name for a truly terrifying man.”
Marsh looked contemplative,"The Humongous. I haven’t thought about that maniac in years.”
“He was no fool,” Quirtsquip interjected, his voice hardening slightly. “They were roaming marauders. Like a swarm of steel locusts. They moved faster than any cavalry and took what they wanted, stealing and massacring every settlement they found, leaving nothing but ashes and bodies. It was the first time we had seen a group attack that hadn't been affiliated with any of the major parties. They just liked the killing, like feral animals”
“I remember that fight,” Red Elk said, now addressing Jase and Mateo directly. “We cornered them near the broken city. They didn't even use dinosaurs, just those loud, heavy machines. They fought like cornered wild raptors. We lost seven good men to their blaster canons that night.”
John took over the narrative. “The Humongous was a monster. Easily seven feet tall, riding a custom-built hover trike thing. He always wore that heavy white mask, like a piece of white bone over metal, and his voice was this deafening, distorted roar. It echoed through the canyons. Sounded like a Bull Rex on a bad day.”
“He tried to take the tribe’s winter stock near the salt flats,” Quirtsquip recalled, his eyes distant. “He thought his size and his noise would shatter the will of our people.”
Red Elk finished the story, a smirk playing on his lips. “We finally took him down. We pinned him into a small gorge, and Marsh there, who even as tall as he is, looked like a little kid next to that monster, climbed the wreckage and tore the mask off the great giant’s face.”
Quirtsquip leaned forward, his eyes bright with mischief. “And when Marsh finally ripped that mask away we found , the booming, terrifying voice was produced by a small, hidden speaker built into the helmet. His real voice?”
Quirtsquip imitated a ridiculously high-pitched sound. “It was squicky, like a field mouse caught in a trap. Squick, squick, squick”
Jase and Mateo burst out laughing, their tension over the morning's test completely forgotten.
Marsh shook his head, looking embarrassed but amused. “The look on his face when I pulled that mask off was almost worth the price of admission to see it.” Marsh said with a playful bravado he didn’t feel.
Marsh recalled the memory, smoke and wreckage smashed into the rock face. He and Cookie had run straight at the charging cornered gang leader. The Humungus fired wildly at the pair, pulse rounds deflecting off Cookies armor like skin as rounds zipped past Mashes head. Marsh returned fire, scoring several hits, just as Cookie rammed the hover bike with his head. Sending the giant crashing into the rock face. The giant man was pinned from the waist down to what was left of his vehicle. This monster and his goons had plagued the Western zone and the Numunuu for months, dozens of families massacred, entire homesteads burned to the ground. He and his riders teamed up with the tribe again to run them down, finally cornering them in this small valley just inside Numanuu territory. The battle had dragged on for hours, chasing and herding the last of the gang there. The fight had been bloody, and costly. Two of his men were dead, and the tribe had lost several when that psycho with the red mohawk blew himself up. Now they finally had the last one pinned, the monster that had the entire zone terrified. Marsh and Cookie rode up next to the wrecked oversized hover bike. Marsh hopped down and stalked up to the man. In the darkness the fires erupting from his damaged vehicle was the only light. The creature looked like a demon trying to crawl its way out of hell the way he was thrashing about, trying to get out. He was covered in blood and burns, his leather vest had been ripped away. Marsh felt the fire building in his chest again, willing him to act, to attack. But he wanted to see this devil first, he wanted to look in his eyes before he sent him back to hell. He could barely hear the calls from Red Elk and John to be careful. As he approached the monster grabbed at him, but Marsh kicked one hand away and he stabbed the other to the body of his bike, knife pinning his hand. A quick stomp from his boot smashed the other shoulder, making the creature howl in agony with that soul rattling amplified voice. Marsh dropped to one knee and reached down and grabbed the shiny dented mask, ripping it off his face. Marsh had cocked back his arm, fist clinched tight ready to smash the monster's face in with his bare hands. The fire now raged in him just like before,”No more, never again, no more tyrants, no more vultures, no more ghouls, NO MORE!” Marsh bellowed in his mind. A light flashed on from behind and lit up the monster's face. Quirtquip had rode up and turned his rifle's flash light to the creature's face. Marsh stopped frozen at the sight. He was just a man, just a plain looking young man. He had short cut brown hair and a boyish face. Tears streamed out from his terrified eyes as he began to beg. And his voice, it was like a small child, he squeaked like a kid at the beginning of puberty.
“Please, I’m sorry, don’t kill me, I’m sorry. Please, it hurts.” the Humugus said
The fire went out in Marsh’s chest, and he suddenly felt tired and very heavy. He stood to his feet as the other men gathered next to him. The squeaky man continued to cry and blubber, but Marsh just stared.
“Please.” The man begged.
Questquip put a hand on Marsh's shoulder, jolting him from his trance. Marsh pulled his side arm and ended it. He pushed away the memory, forcing a smile back to his face. Not wanting to ruin the lighthearted tone of the conversation.
The Chief looked at Jase and Mateo, allowing the joke to serve as a lesson. “That is the lesson of the story, young ones. Your enemies are not always what they seem. They are often just cowards wearing loud masks, deceiving everyone with fear and noise. ”
As the sound of the young men's laughter faded, the conversation drifted back to the sobering reality of the present.
As the sun reached its zenith, Marsh noticed Red Elk looking toward Jase and Mateo, his previous humor completely gone. “Your sons are strong, Marsh. They will hold the peace. But you teach them to trust too quickly.”
Marsh sighed and nodded,” I know, teaching them to hope and to work towards a better world while also teaching them to be wary of everything is a fine line to navigate. They still have an innocence that I can’t help but want to protect for as long as I can.”
“The peace you've built with my people is strong,’ Red Elk continued," but the world out there still holds the ghosts of the old Barons like the now former Colonel Franco. Not to mention the new leaders in the east and their cybernetic abominations, tin men who believe steel is superior to bone. Or the genetic monstrosities cooked up by the flesh peddlers on the west coast, man and dinosaur twisted for sport and money, carrying every sickness known to man.”
“Don’t forget the reptile zealots from the north,” Quirtsquip added, his hand resting on the smooth dome of his Pachycephalosaurus. “We can hope those Sobek snakes are gone forever, or too weakened to be dangerous, but assumption is the path to destruction.” Marsh and Red Elk both nodded in agreement.” We also have noticed more and more travelers pushing from east and west to find new homes in the newly reopened northern parts of the Central Zone. They are mostly just people trying to find a better life away from the oppressive coasts, but they are being influenced by those same leaders to expand closer and closer to Numanuu territory. History has taught our people this lesson before. The powerful corrupt send in the hopeful needy to ‘settle ‘ the area and clash with the people already there. All they have to do is wait and gamble that they have more desperate pioneers to sacrifice than we have warriors to fight back with.” Quirtquip’s expression turned grim," We know this game well by now, and we won’t lose it again.”
Marsh nodded, the man's words and demeanor causing a chill to run through him. He looked out across the vast, open land they had all fought so hard for, feeling the same determination in his own being. He glanced at Jase and Mateo, finding himself hopeful in the men his two boys had become. “I know, Chief. We are agreed on that. No more, never again .”
The Chief looked at the two young men, then back at Marsh and nodded. They rode on in silence as the two young McClintocks ahead of them made light conversation with the other tribal riders, Mateo getting laughs with lighthearted jabs at his brother. Jase returning jabs in kind. The laughter mixed with the rhythmic sound of dinos stomping, and the quiet creaking of the saddles and the rustling of the wind.
