The Best of Penny Dread Tales by Kevin J. Anderson, Quincy J. Allen, Cayleigh Hickey, Aaron Michael Ritchey Ritchey, J. M. Franklin, Gerry Huntman, Laura Givens, Keith Good, David Boop, Peter J. Wacks
Authors: Kevin J. Anderson, Quincy J. Allen, Cayleigh Hickey, Aaron Michael Ritchey Ritchey, J. M. Franklin, Gerry Huntman, Laura Givens, Keith Good, David Boop, Peter J. Wacks
Tags: Science-Fiction, Literature & Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Steampunk, Anthologies, Anthologies & Short Stories
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had found us a Tri-ceratops!
Now, neither Bill nor Mr. Tesla had mentioned how bad tempered one of these things might be. It started swinging its head around right and left, gorging and throwing duck-things all around it. It was about to have a go at Pete, but I rode in through the herd, whooping and hollering and blazing away with my Colt. The bullets didn’t hardly faze that critter none, but I had distracted it enough that Pete could get to a safer distance. Once we had the beast confused with our fancy horsemanship, we just kept at it, riding in circles and putting ropes on him till we figured we’d plum tired him out. He was big but none too bright, and I started to think of him as just another really cantankerous steer. Just as we thought we had him, that three horned devil gave one last huge jerk of his head and sent me and my pinto flying towards the trees. I got up, rubbing my back and using foul language.
Spying my Winchester on the ground, I determined that maybe I could make a larger caliber impression on that son of a buck with the right tool. All of a sudden, from behind me, I heard a roar and a high-pitched squeal that ended abruptly. Turning slowly, I saw four horse legs flailing in the air, and where its body should have been all I saw were long, pointy teeth and two eyes straight out of a nightmare.
That picture we had been given by Bill was off in several minor details. If this was a Tyrannosaurus rex (and I had a suspicion it was) it wasn’t some slow, tail-draggin’ oaf like in the drawing. This thing looked fast and mean as a scorpion on a hot rock. The teeth looked a lot bigger than in the picture, too.
Old three-horn took one look and tore off like a bat out of Hell, pulling Pete right off his roan, dragging him through the dirt and ferns. I ran over, grabbed the reins to Pete’s horse and was in that saddle faster than a flea on a hound. The one bright spot in all this was that the Tri-ceratops was heading right in the direction of that time-travel door, so I took off after him. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that the rex was crunching away on his pinto lunch. Nonchalantly, as he chewed, Mr. Rex was studying all the action with his eyes. After a few minutes of hard riding, I spotted the Tri-ceratops standing there breathing hard. In the distance ahead of him, I saw a dark square on the horizon that I knew had to be the time door. Missing from the scene was any trace of your brother. I made my way carefully around the heaving brute, fearing what grisly remains I might find on the mouth-end but was puzzled when I found nothing. I had no idea where Pete could have gotten to.
Then I heard a whump in the distance, followed by a second and a third and so forth, each one getting louder and closer together. Suddenly, I saw that rex barreling at me, crashing through the undergrowth like a runaway freight train. Three-horn took off like a shot, heading straight for the dark patch. I am ashamed to admit that my pony and I froze right there on the spot. I thought I would soil myself when that big old monster stopped right in front of me and opened wide, letting out a roar that could have stripped paint from a barn. All of a sudden something dropped right out of the branches overhead, landing on the varmint’s back. It was Pete, clothes all shredded and covered in mud and leaves, somehow still wearing his hat. He lifted that big old Bowie knife of his and plunged it into the critter’s hide. Pete let out howl and held on for dear life as that lizard tried to shake him off. Roused from my stupor, I put spurs to that roan and went off like lightning after the Tri-ceratops.
It must have been a strange sight for those boys back in 1903: having a three-horned mountain barreling at them, followed by a screaming maniac on a strawberry roan who was trying to get away from a big old dragon weaving from side to side, the dragon ridden by a laughing madman.
The Tri-ceratops went right through the big door and
Now, neither Bill nor Mr. Tesla had mentioned how bad tempered one of these things might be. It started swinging its head around right and left, gorging and throwing duck-things all around it. It was about to have a go at Pete, but I rode in through the herd, whooping and hollering and blazing away with my Colt. The bullets didn’t hardly faze that critter none, but I had distracted it enough that Pete could get to a safer distance. Once we had the beast confused with our fancy horsemanship, we just kept at it, riding in circles and putting ropes on him till we figured we’d plum tired him out. He was big but none too bright, and I started to think of him as just another really cantankerous steer. Just as we thought we had him, that three horned devil gave one last huge jerk of his head and sent me and my pinto flying towards the trees. I got up, rubbing my back and using foul language.
Spying my Winchester on the ground, I determined that maybe I could make a larger caliber impression on that son of a buck with the right tool. All of a sudden, from behind me, I heard a roar and a high-pitched squeal that ended abruptly. Turning slowly, I saw four horse legs flailing in the air, and where its body should have been all I saw were long, pointy teeth and two eyes straight out of a nightmare.
That picture we had been given by Bill was off in several minor details. If this was a Tyrannosaurus rex (and I had a suspicion it was) it wasn’t some slow, tail-draggin’ oaf like in the drawing. This thing looked fast and mean as a scorpion on a hot rock. The teeth looked a lot bigger than in the picture, too.
Old three-horn took one look and tore off like a bat out of Hell, pulling Pete right off his roan, dragging him through the dirt and ferns. I ran over, grabbed the reins to Pete’s horse and was in that saddle faster than a flea on a hound. The one bright spot in all this was that the Tri-ceratops was heading right in the direction of that time-travel door, so I took off after him. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that the rex was crunching away on his pinto lunch. Nonchalantly, as he chewed, Mr. Rex was studying all the action with his eyes. After a few minutes of hard riding, I spotted the Tri-ceratops standing there breathing hard. In the distance ahead of him, I saw a dark square on the horizon that I knew had to be the time door. Missing from the scene was any trace of your brother. I made my way carefully around the heaving brute, fearing what grisly remains I might find on the mouth-end but was puzzled when I found nothing. I had no idea where Pete could have gotten to.
Then I heard a whump in the distance, followed by a second and a third and so forth, each one getting louder and closer together. Suddenly, I saw that rex barreling at me, crashing through the undergrowth like a runaway freight train. Three-horn took off like a shot, heading straight for the dark patch. I am ashamed to admit that my pony and I froze right there on the spot. I thought I would soil myself when that big old monster stopped right in front of me and opened wide, letting out a roar that could have stripped paint from a barn. All of a sudden something dropped right out of the branches overhead, landing on the varmint’s back. It was Pete, clothes all shredded and covered in mud and leaves, somehow still wearing his hat. He lifted that big old Bowie knife of his and plunged it into the critter’s hide. Pete let out howl and held on for dear life as that lizard tried to shake him off. Roused from my stupor, I put spurs to that roan and went off like lightning after the Tri-ceratops.
It must have been a strange sight for those boys back in 1903: having a three-horned mountain barreling at them, followed by a screaming maniac on a strawberry roan who was trying to get away from a big old dragon weaving from side to side, the dragon ridden by a laughing madman.
The Tri-ceratops went right through the big door and
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