The Dinosaur Keeper

Chapter 13

Rex, exhausted, laid on his back, aching in every part of his body, the knotted twists of strained muscles gently singing in his ears.

Pooetesleap sat silently beside and gently licked his face worried that a response would not be given easily, if at all.

“It’s alright Poo, all over now. Well sort of”, Rex said realising that it wasn’t at all over, in fact the mission was far from complete, but at least stage one was done. The arduous task, stood proudly in front of them and Rex turned a canvas flap of his tent, resting his eyes on the trap.

They had easily got to the Circle of Light, but as Chunk flipped into twilight, realisation covered them thickly, and he conceded this was more of an undertaking than initially thought. The cage didn’t have to be as tall as Bob, which was some relief, but it would have to be at least half the size, for him to be able to stoop into it.

Bob was six metres tall give or take a snarling jaw, which meant it would have to be a three metre high cage. It would also need to be at least three metres again wide, enough to accommodate a flailing murderous Tyrannosaurus and his piercing claws, which is when it struck Rex that construction would take a good couple of days.

Quickly deciding that less time would be lost if he was ‘on-site’ as much as possible, he remembered the old tent stored in the attic of the house.

Rex finally grasped that as this part of the task was newly planned, he would have to go back to the house for provisions as well as his temporary cloth home. Which was actually more convenient than initially thought as he had been completely unorganised in the rest of the project, as usual, and had no saw, nails, hammer or rope from which to construct the rest of the cage.

It wasn’t too much of a problem, with the tractor now operational he would be back in a matter of minutes, and everything else he needed was in the shed.

This brought him to the second quandary. A tent would be easy to conceal, it was green and quite small, comfortably hidden away between two bushes or covered in branches at the base of a tree.

But the tractor was large, smelly and bright orange, and so reluctantly Rex had gone back and picked up everything he needed, but returned slowly by foot.

Laying out the some of the logs side by side, others were placed horizontally across the row just created.

Hammering the large nails firmly in where the logs crossed, a grid slowly formed flat on the floor.

Fortunately the logs were about three metres long so very little sawing was needed and the ungainly twist and turns of the occasional branch just gave the trap a bit more of a rustic feel. Always important to make a prisoner feel at home, he later pondered.

Shortly after the first panel was complete, Chunk flipped and darkness was upon them.

It was about this time that Rex had realised how hungry he was and promptly decided enough had been done for that day, striking a fire and suspending a small, black pot above the flames.

The smell of coffee followed shortly and remembering to pick some more berries while he was here to take back to the house and roast, Rex sat and unclipped a large plastic box.

Inside were layer upon layer of sandwiches, smartly placed side by side, and squeezed together like new born babies on a hospital ward.

Hungrily, he simultaneously stuffed one whole sandwich into his mouth, reached for another and somehow slurped most of the coffee into an already full opening, soaking the sandwich there into one big mush.

It was a little longer than Pooetesleap liked, when Rex finally noticed that he was not sitting so close to him for warmth, but rather as one massive reminder that he hadn’t eaten either.

“Sorry boy!”, Rex exclaimed in unknown hushed tones and tossed him a couple of morsels, clipping the box tightly shut thereafter.

The rain gently bounced through the branches ricocheting onto Rex’s face and hands, and for the first time the dampness of his clothes was noticed.

His face was hot with sweat, the perspiration initially repelled raindrops until the weathers ferocity finally diluted into one constant flow from an overworked forehead.

With this Rex clambered into the tent, resting on his front, face slightly poking out of the flap, relishing the coolness of the evening and watching the fire crackle away.

The fire at first was not seen as a good idea, reasoning that it might attract Bob being this close to his lair, but Rex had argued with himself that fires were lit every night on the plains and they seldom seemed to be the cause of his occasional midnight raid.

Besides, from what Rex could remember of Bobs own home, he would probably be sat in front of a roaring one himself.

The rain became more intense now, and the fire started to spit back in a losing fight. But as Pooetesleap sheltered between the tent lining and the waterproof covering, it finally belched its last mighty flame and went out, just as sleep at long last gagged Rex, his eyes wearily shut.

The next day Rex had awoke, shaking off the cold that enveloped the planet at nightfall and bolted out of the tent, clicking his back to normality, not use to such hard ground for a bed.

Coffee was quickly made and sandwiches shared, the box still yielding a plentiful supply.

It was early, very early, and a thin mist was in front of him slowly buzzing toward the dawn light, as Rex inspected his watch and five thirty calmly responded.

Excellent, thought Rex, a full day ahead with dawn jumping into the day less than an hour ago, good progress could only be made.

Damning his own stupidity at cursing the day with such a thought, it was a little after midday that surprisingly all five panels were laid out in front of him. It had been a relatively easy task, and nobody was more shocked than Rex to find that he hadn’t blighted the day by being so hopeful at the start of it. On the contrary it had been one of the most productive mornings he had ever had and as he gulped down another sandwich, even Pooetesleap was becoming a bit bored with the repeated diet by now and Rex couldn’t help but pat himself on the back.

Throwing the crumbs to the ground, so too the rest of the coffee, he took one panel and, heaving at it, tilted the structure until it leant against a tree.

Whisking another panel on to it‘s side, which was starting to become more cumbersome, he lent the edge next to the other, and whacked in a couple of nails. Repeating this a couple more times, Rex was really rather chuffed at the box like construction before him and began to slowly wind the thick rope between all the panels, binding them tightly together.

The last section had some rope attached to the middle of it, to which Rex tugged and toiled with until the panel finally rested on top of the others, making a complete box.

It was massive, a celebration of engineering, and it looked absolutely awful.

If you had taken some brightly coloured paint and some even more brightly coloured card, painted the words ‘blatant trap this way’ on it, pointed at said trap with a large arrow, which you had handily made of neon lights, it still could not have not been anymore obvious a cage than stood before Rex now.

“Chunking Chunker”, fumed Rex, “For the love of Chunker and his pet rabbit”, he continued pacing around and kicking at the undergrowth.

He looked at it again and the same reply was returned. There in front of him were large tree trunks, lashed together with rope and nails to make a massive cage, nothing more and nothing less.

Then it struck him.

Slowly, hour by hour, Rex had started to weave saplings, thick grass, willow branches, anything he could get his hands on, in and out of the wooden trunks. By early evening it was still a rather large box, but starting to look a lot more like its surrounding environment.

Standing back to admire his creation in the twilight, Rex knew he had one more thing to do and focussed on collapsing in his tent later that evening, another day with a job well done. Rolling over a tree trunk until it was horizontal with the front of the cage, Rex’s back started to click and groan, convinced it could give no more, but still he pressed on. Another trunk under the lip of the trap, the middle of it resting on the trunk at the front and Rex had the perfect seesaw. Astoundingly, and with very little effort, Rex easily pushed the cage back until it wedged itself between two trees.

As it rested there, creaking slightly and convincing Rex that it would topple over completely, Rex lassoed a piece of rope round one corner and let the other end go over the nearest trees bough, dropping on the other side to the floor.

Wobbling from side to side Rex cautiously picked up another log, walking carefully back toward the cage and holding the wood upright. The whole process made him look like he was going for gold in the Highland Games, favourite to win tossing the caber, and the determination on his face would convince a crowd of thousands.

Awkwardly he rested one end on the ground and praying for all the luck in the whole of Chunk tugged at the rope.

It worked!

The cage had rocked back towards the ground and caught the edge of the upturned log, shuddering to a halt.

It looked exactly like in the book, albeit a rather large version, and nestling between two trees in the twilight was rather well disguised.

In fact the whole trap seemed to be blending seamlessly with the rest of the environment.

Looking at his treasured book’s diagram, the only thing that distinguished between the manuals and his own version was the lack of Dumdum inside it, which prompted Rex.

Slowly he stacked a pile of Dumdums below the cage, reminding himself that you have to have bait.

Having cleared the area of any trace of himself, he now lay as exhausted as he had ever been, snugly inside the tent, Pooetesleap still licking his face. No sandwiches tonight, none at all, and after finally summoning some strength from Chunker knows where Rex zipped up the tent and called it a day, falling to sleep in an instant, his muscles grasping this respite and tightening with every passing minute.

Rex woke with a start that morning and his arms cried out in pain. Stretched to the limit yesterday, his muscles barely offered him the luxury of being pushed to a seated position.

Pooetesleap yelped as Rex turned, trapping his tail beneath Dinosaur Keepers hand, as Rex himself cursed the tiny accommodation.

Unzipping the front of the tent, sunlight burst into his eyes, making him notice for the first time the throbbing of an overused head.

Checking that the rope was still tied round the bottom of the vertical log, the other end close enough to the tent so that it could be tugged away at the opportune moment, he stumbled to the other side of the Circle of Light.

A couple of minutes later and Rex was right as rain, veritably buzzing around the clearing, having consumed a tad to much Bitter Cola than was normally wise. However, the caffeine had the required effect and Rex wandered back to the tent, realising that as the rest of the day could only be spent waiting, he may as well just rest in the tent, idly flicking through the Dinosaur Manual for company.

Pooetesleap was sniffing around under the cage and Rex was just about to shout at him to get away, making sure he knew that the Dumdums were not his to eat.

Before doing this, or making any thoughts into sound, he saw there were in fact no Dumdums to get away from.

They had completely vanished.

The next moment came crashing in far too quickly as the silence of the woodland was violently pierced.

“A bit obvious, even for you Rex”, said a voice from behind him.

He turned slowly, knowing the familiar menacing tone and faced four tonnes of slobbering tyrannosaurus.

“It’s a box with a stick propping it up!” continued Bob, “did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”.

The tyrannosaurus moved his mouth to within a centimetre of Rex’s, until the Dinosaur Keeper could observe the fresh Dumdum between colossal teeth.

All of Rex’s muscles ached, but the caffeine made him more alert than he had been in days and for some unknown reason he wasn’t afraid.

This did not go unnoticed by a normally terrifying tyrannosaurus and Bob subsequently flexed all of his muscles as menacingly as he could, adopting a slight snarl in the corner of his mouth. Mildly perturbed at the lack of reaction, Bob settled for a clinking of his razor sharp claws before finally giving in and letting out one mighty roar.

Nothing.

Rex stood still, no emotion left in his already drained body, although Pooetesleap did whimper a bit, still beneath the cage trapped by fear rather than walls hanging above him.

It was all for nothing, was the only thing that kept rattling around Rex’s head.

The tractor, the moving of logs, the days toiling over this trap, and still nothing was achieved.

Rex slumped to the ground, his energy dripping into the soil. This was the best he had to offer and even though he knew from the start it would be fruitless, almost seventeen years of living in this place counted for absolutely zilch.

Unsure what to do next, Bob attempted to compose himself.

This had never happened before.

Running yes, screaming yes, stumbling and fatal errors, again yes, but sitting in front of him without terror, no he could honestly say this was not the regular occurrence.

Composing himself for a second, Bob averted his gaze from the crumpled man in front of him, which is when he saw it.

Or rather when he saw him.

“Ah!” he remarked, “I see you have improved the bait somewhat!”, and with this he strode over Rex, toward the cage and Pooetesleap.

The caffeine had worn off by now and Rex was too exhausted to even attempt to help his friend. To be fair to him the determination of not losing his new companion had meant that resolve bubbled through his now pumping veins and his legs had automatically sprung into action. But Bob was not an animal to leave anything to chance, and he had kicked the Dinosaur Keeper in the stomach, hard, as he went by.

Rex panted heavily, being able to do nothing but watch Bob, like a teenager transfixed by a cheap horror movie.

In two strides Bob was over to the cage and ducked to position himself in the middle, bizarrely completely ignoring Pooetesleap who stayed transfixed to the spot, now towered over by the immense tyrannosaurus.

Bob shook his great neck, and the pure green of his scales flickered in the sunlight,

“I stand here do I?” he quizzed looking at Rex still clutching his stomach writhing in pain.

“No, no, don’t speak”, Bob carried on sarcastically, “I’m sure I’ll work it out for myself” with this he turned to look at the tent, now fully in view at the side of a tree some metres away.

“So you were going to tug on this were you?” the rope now between his fingers.

“Let’s give it a go then shall we!” he pulled sharply at the length of chord and the cage slammed shut on top of him.

Rex was stunned. If he hadn’t been so full of shock, he would have worn the expression he already had anew.

Bob had trapped himself in the cage.

He might have snaffled another Pooetesleap, but he was caught!

Somehow, from a place Rex had never been to before, the smallest morsel of energy returned to him and he managed to prop himself up leaning next to a tree, steadying an almost destroyed body.

Arrogance had caught him, so full of himself had Bob been that he had pushed it just a little too hard. The cage weighed a ton, there was no way…

Then it happened, slowly but surely the cage started to rise, creaking as it went.

Seconds passed, until Rex could just see the top of Bob’s legs. He stumbled back, down on bended knee now and the cage stopped rising, remaining suspended in midair, until the well-known voice returned.

“I must commend you Rex,” the voice reappeared, “It really is well made. But you see how ever heavy it is to you, and no matter how many days you slog over any contraption, I will always be able to lift whatever weight you feel necessary to present to me”.

With this, two claws appeared over the rim of the cage’s bottom, and easily swung the box to one side, until it rested noisily a few metres from where Rex crouched.

“Well at least you had a go Rex!” Bob said, deciding not to waste his audience’s immobility for one second, “Almost seventeen years here and your first real attempt. Pathetic really”.

Bob stepped forward a couple of paces towards Rex and for the first time his stomach lurched and fear finally returned.

“Oh! Almost forgot, nearly lunch!”, Bob turned and picked up Pooetesleap carefully, until he was imprisoned in his jaws, determined not to yet damage his prize.

Stepping forward, Bob purposely kicked Rex over until he was flat on his back, making him pant heavily again, breathless from the sudden movement.

Placing one giant foot on Rex’s chest, Pooetesleap whimpered lowly, fearful for his friend even if his own fate had been sealed.

Bob inched his colossal mouth slowly towards Rex’s, his breath making the hair on Rex’s head move violently from side to side.

“You’ll never beat me, you know” he taunted, now holding Pooetesleap by two giant fingers roughly round the collar, “Seventeen years Rex, seventeen! You think one attempt is all it takes, and an ill conceived one at that”.

With this he exerted a little more pressure, pushing what small amount of air Rex had in his lungs out. Happy that his prisoner was close to bursting, Bob gave a final nudge of his scaly foot, drawing a little blood on the now reddened skin and turned to make his way back through the rotten wood.

Rex lay on the ground quite motionless, his brain finally giving in, lacking oxygen, passed out on the floor, wind whistled around his limp body, and there he remained for the rest of the day.

Hours passed but it was the rain that finally awoke him to the pain in his chest, matched only by the straining of his muscles.

He remembered what had happened, of course he did, and if he hadn’t quite the recall needed, the upturned box, a useless looking object as it had been a trap, was lying docile in front of him.

Sleep had offered the reward of the smallest amount of energy, so staggering towards the tent, Rex realised he could barely think and concentrated his limited brain power on one thing, getting home.

As he approached the bush, where he had hid his temporary home, he was greeted by the sight of nothing.

No tent, no satchel, no Manual, no sandwiches even, nothing at all, completely cleared.

Crying out in shear frustration, the reply came in the form of a twig snapping to the side of him, and a Tyrannosaurus’ teeth glinted in the Nus light.

“Come to finish me off have you Bob?” he screamed at the vision in front, exhaustion replacing any fear again.

“It’s me”, came the reply and the soothing tones of Max’s voice washed over Rex, relief coursing through every vein.

“I took your things back, I erm,” and for the first time ever in Rex’s memory Max lost the ability to speak.

“I left you, just for a moment,” he added hurriedly, finally managing some words, “I thought you looked hurt, so I brought some medicine, bandages and some cream that looks like it was last used when I was an infant”, trying vainly to inject the smallest amount of humour.

“I can’t do it Max!” Rex virtually shouted, sobbing at his friend, “I tried, for once I tried but he’s too big, wooden walls won’t contain him. He’s taken Pooetesleap!”, and then silence returned.

“I know Rex, but lets just get you home, we’ll think about it more in the morning come on”, and with this he picked Rex up by his belt strap and carried him home.

Max made light of the trip home, his great legs pounding the distance into a few minutes, turning to face the familiar house, before setting Rex down on the grass outside.

He sat for a while and took in the surroundings, calmed by the sight of normality, reassured by the protection of his great friend.

Rex noted the perimeter fires were lit, and could only conclude that Max had done this. The Dinosaur Keeper questioned himself rarely, but this was one such occasion that he felt entitled to. You had to query your role in the grand scheme of things, when something with hands that can’t even reach each other can take care of your basic chores.

Noticing this concern, that was bordering on disillusionment, Max jumped in feet first,

“They missed you, you know. I only managed a few things, couldn’t hold the spade for a start, so you might have a bit of dung to clear up tomorrow, and the ladder to the compost heap is a little to small for me, mind you the steel sides are lovely and warm by mid afternoon, although the smell is a bit…”, and with this Max shut up, noticing that he was rambling, filling the air with sound, manically trying to offer some kind of comfort more to himself than anyone else.

His crumpled friend just stared at the grass, snorting his reply, “Missed me. They can’t stand me! Well at least I’m here to pick up the crap eh! I can just about get that right”,

Springing to his feet, his own self loathing willing him on, Rex started to open the front door.

“It, will,” Max hesitated, “It will all work out in the end, you’ll see Rex. Don’t give up,”

The door clicked open and Rex just as quickly slammed it shut, safely inside.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then? Rex?” came the voice now on the other side of the door, and Rex just stood there waiting until he heard the thudding of footsteps grow fainter.

Moment’s later hot frothy water was welcoming him back to his own bathroom and the smell of soap eased an empty heart.

Sticking a finger in each ear Rex had started to feel better, greeted by the merest trace of soil on each fingertip.

He was actually quite surprising himself at the rapid change in mood that was taking place and even his morose face had changed to a blank determination.

The water pitter-pattered, gurgling as it spiralled down the plughole and Rex’s brain started to whir into action. It was the smallest, most unremarkable notion to begin with, but later Rex would start to think that perhaps basic thought, brought on no doubt by fatigue, could bring clarity to even the most difficult problem to comprehend or solve.

This new trail of thought even broke the pangs of a lost dog, one that was still lovingly missed no matter how brief the relationship, and as he raced down the stairs, newly replenished with a blast of hunger, the fridge door almost sprang off its hinges, such was the excitement buzzing round Rex’s head.

The thing that Rex always knew was that he wasn’t what you would call a talker. Not really his fault as he spent most of his time with a mute, ever changing, four legged companion, and had the briefest of conversations occasionally with the one Tyrannosaurus that didn’t find Red-Setters a tasty treat.

It would be easy at this point for Rex to feel sorrow for his lack of social skills, he was pretty sure had there been hundreds more people inhabiting his little plains that he wouldn’t have gotten invited to many cocktail parties.

However just because you’re not a talker, and I’m sure there are plenty of us out there quietly nodding along to this thought, doesn’t make you a bad listener.

Quite the reverse in fact.

“I must commend you Rex, It really is well made. But you see how ever heavy it is to you, and no matter how many days you toil over any contraption, I will always be able to lift any weight you feel necessary to present to me”.

They were Bob’s exact words, exact! Rex knew this, because each time Max had spoke, saying daft things like ‘the others’, and so on, Rex had become more and more attentive. He had initially been determined to piece some kind of knowledge together, before eventually realising that Max was far too clever for this.

But he couldn’t shut it off now, not even if he tried, every sound, syllable, vowel even, that was ever muttered by anybody, was tagged, indexed and stored in his brain, no matter how insignificant it may first appear. Ready to pull any of them out of his well catalogued brain at any point, should the occasion arise, and pinpoint any sentence, inspect it and see what it represented, dissecting every part of it.

“I must commend you Rex, it really is well made. But you see how ever heavy it is to you, and no matter how many days you toil over any contraption, I will always be able to lift any weight you feel necessary to present to me”, Bobs, voice churned over in his head again.

“I will always be able to lift any weight you feel necessary to present to me”, Rex cut and pasted the portion he wanted onto the blackboard in his mind.

“Lift any weight presented to me”, he finally settled on, his face finally smiling although not quite erupting into laughter, stifled by the Dumdum now firmly lodged in his left cheek.

A wooden cage would never contain Bob, no Rex knew that now. No tree, however thick and strong and carefully bound together, from Planet Chunk would thwart Bob’s movement.

But Rex knew what could.