Chapter Ten
Unfasten Your Seatbelts
An aero-chopper hovers in the Manhattan skyline. Marines sit on the edge of its open bay, their black aero-boots hanging over the sides, surveying the Jurassic streets below.
“Lieutenant,” says a young marine, “I can’t see anything down there, sir. There’s no sign of the rogue aero-car.”
“Give me that thing, soldier.” RainHorn snatches the zoom-scope and holds it up, revealing his heavily bandaged hand.
The other marines stare at it, noticing that the bandages are more substantial and that he isn’t healing.
Somehow, RainHorn can sense this. He moves the zoom-scope away from his face. “What are you all staring at?” he demands harshly.
The marines turn away sharply, saying nothing.
RainHorn peers back through the scope, seeing a large herd of Iguan
