Pages from a Mission: The Journal of M. E. Jenkins, Dinosaur Hunter (Episode 2)

The Lonely Ancient

When last we parted, I'd just handily dispatched a pair of fiercely territorial dinosaurs. The hospital stood upon the crest of a large hill, offering a vantage point for finding other dinos. I turned in the direction of the densest vegetation and began to explore, searching for signs of the great beasts. Several miles southeast, I was jolted from my outward alertness by a violent turbulence in the road. The shattered holes in the pavement were more dense here, evidence of the dinosaurs' destructive nature. The trail was old, but well worn and easy enough to follow. I began to wonder if a pattern was emerging when the tracks led directly to another medical facility. It made sense, from a hunter's perspective. The predator needs only to cull the weakest from the herd to feed.

I cautiously entered the courtyard of the building, glancing around in search of movement. It was a moment before I realized that standing not ten yards from me was huge, old, bull stegosaurus. I hastily reached for my trusty old p-shooter. I circled the animal, looking for an appropriate position from which to strike. The creature hardly moved, letting out low sighs, as though of relief. It seemed unable to track my progress, but rather than distressed, it seemed simply pleased to know someone else was there. The ancient steg was blind, I realized, blind and lonesome. I came closer, still cautious of some ruse; in the cut-throat world of 'saurs, you don't grow old without being a bit crafty. The sad state of neglect the creature was in stirred some sympathy in my poikilothermic hunter's heart, but as I stopped a short distance from him, I reminded myself that this was a war. Drawing from the lessons of William Tecumseh Sherman and RTS gaming, I knew that even a seemingly harmless enemy cannot be spared.



The hunter's heart may be moved, but his mission remains. In another time, another place, perhaps we might have been friends. Perhaps we would spend sunny afternoons leaping through green meadows, the dino's forceful hops shaking delicious fruit from the trees before we settled in to nibble the treats and watch the sun set over a city at peace.



But in this time and place, it's a dangerous, molting reptile that needs to be sent back to the hell from whence it came. I mark my sentimentality as a testament to my continued humanity, but to defeat the beast, I will have to become a beast myself.



To all those citizens cowering in their homes for fear of dinosaur attacks, I make you this promise, this dinosaur hunter will continue on the trail of those terrible lizards until you are free of your fears (or until there are no more dinosaurs, whichever comes first, since this dinosaur hunter can't do anything to fix PTSD following close encounters of the reptilian kind).

Dinosaurs Captured: 3
Miles Traveled: 3.8
Average Miles Per Dinosaur: 1.27