After the Lightning: The Council of Trikes

 

Chapter One

The sky rumbled, ready to open and unleashed whatever it could upon the world below. Christopher was caught in his share of storms, but this one could be the worst. The sky looked more threatening than it ever had. He searched all day for a place to shelter. Coming down the road, he saw a barn. A drop of rain hit his shoulder. He sprinted as more water fell. A bolt of lightning tore through the sky. The rain became steadier. The storm of May 1879 would be historic.

               What was once dirt and dust became mud. It would soon be ready to cause havoc for the traveler. Christopher nearly slipped. The barn door was in sight. Christopher hoped it wasn’t locked. The raindrops formed sheets, ready to curl around him.

               Christopher grabbed the handle. A hope flashed through his mind. He pulled and the door opened, allowing him to slip inside. The rain pounded its anger on the roof having lost another victim. Christopher had a dry place to spend the night.  

In the morning, after a dry but restless sleep, the boy heard laughter outside. The last time Christopher woke to laughing was during his time at the orphanage. He found his hand in a bowl of warm water. Some of the other boys had gathered around to watch his reaction.

               It would be the last time anyone played a joke on him at that place.

               Peeking out of the barn, he looked around. He didn’t see anyone. Christopher stepped outside. He could still hear laughing and some talking. It came from above him.

               Before Christopher could look up, a rock fell next to him. He jumped, startled by the stone. The laughter became louder. He looked skyward to see three flying reptiles, or Flyers, as humans call them. They circled and laughed louder, probably at the expression on the boy’s face.

               “Goodbye!” they called, then flying off.

               Flyers don’t talk, Christopher thought. They don’t laugh either.

               He watched the trio disappear into the distance. The poor night’s sleep he had went with them. The boy noticed that the rock had splattered mud on the side of his pants. The storm had left numerous puddles, but the blue sky made no mention of the night before.

               “I’m sure the road will be a mess,” Christopher muttered. He sighed, thinking about the mud that likely awaited his feet in the coming hours.

               Another sound found its way to his ears. It might resemble the noise made by a small T-Rex hiding under a blanket. Of course, finding a T-Rex of any size under a blanket would be rare, but one could imagine it’s sound. Christopher travelled with this sound often. His stomach was empty. Lately, empty became the normal. Its displeasure at not being even half-full was constant.

               “I know,” he said.

               He looked around, hoping to find something he could eat. He had slipped into the barn in the evening when it was quiet. No one caught him. When the storm hit and his safety was insured, he did his best to sleep. Now, in the sunlight, he had nowhere to hide. He had to be careful.

               “Hey! You!” came a yell.

               Caught again, he thought.

               “You’re trespassing!” The huge, bearded man stood before him. Christopher had been in this situation before.

               “I’m lost.”

               The man eyed him. “You’re lying.”

               “I…”

               Before another word could be said, the man grabbed his arm and marched him away from the barn. In a few uncomfortable minutes, Christopher was dragged into a farmhouse and presented to another man, whose beard covered more of his face than the other’s. He sipped a cup of coffee.

               “Found this one in Barn Seven, Mr. McGruder.”

               McGruder looked Christopher over. “Kinda scrawny, aren’t you? What’s your name?”

               “Christopher, sir.”

               “So, Christopher. You spent the night in Barn Seven?”

               “I didn’t know it was Barn Seven. But, yes, I did”

               Mr. McGruder stroked his beard. “How much should I charge you for room and board?”

               Christopher thought for a minute.

               “Well, not a lot. I really only had room.”

               Mr. McGruder couldn’t help but grin.

               “Tell you what. I have apple pickers out in the orchard. You work with them all day and I’ll consider things even. And that includes all the apples you can eat.”

               The Rex in Christopher’s stomach gave a happy growl.

               “You have a deal!”

               The two chuckled and shook hands.

               “Mr. James, will you lead Christopher to the trees?”

               “Certainly.”

 

               The two soon arrived at a grove of trees, all dotted in red. Near the trees were several large bins, all waiting to be filled.

               “Can you climb?” Mr. James asked.

               “Sure!”

               “Okay. You climb a tree, pick the apples, and drop them into the bins.”

               “That seems easy enough.”

               “Just don’t eat too many apples. The branches can only hold so much weight.” He smiled.

               “I’ll do my best, sir.”

               Mr. James pulled one of the bins close to the tree. Christopher took off his shoes and began to climb. The branches were big enough to support the boy. He plucked a few apples from the branches above him and dropped them into the bin below.

               “Looks like you’ve got the hang of this,” Mr. James said. “I’m going to go and check on the others. Come get me when the bin is full.”

               “Okay.”

               As Mr. James left, Christopher’s stomach again voiced its emptiness.

               “I know.”

               Reaching up, he grabbed an apple. He rubbed a shine on it with is shirt. The first bite of anything when you’ve been hungry is always the best. There are no exceptions. Christopher chewed the mouthful into mush, allowing the juice to delight his throat and stomach.

               The second apple tasted almost as good as the first, but not quite like the third, the fourth and the fifth. After that, he returned to dropping apples in the bin. His stomach no longer seemed to mind.

               Christopher filled the bin in a short time. The tree, however, didn’t look any less of apples. He bit into another apple and stuffed a couple in his pockets.

               He climbed down from his perch and headed off in Mr. James’ direction. He didn’t find anyone. He did find several empty bins. Christopher grabbed one and dragged it back to his tree.

               “It’s only fair.”

               Setting the bin in place, Christopher once more climbed the tree and started picking. As more apples were dropped into the bin, the boy’s mind began to wander. He didn’t hear anyone else working. He wondered why Mr. James hadn’t come by to check on him.

               As the second bin became full, the quiet ended. Something stomped. Something big. Something getting nearer. Christopher climbed around the other side of the tree to see. As he did, the tree shook. The Something pushed against it. He looked down to see spikes and a frill. They were bobbing into one of the bins he had filled. Christopher also heard crunching.

               Although he’s never been close to one, he knew that it was a Triceratops, or Trike, as most people call them. It busily ate the apples he had picked. It also bumped the tree. As it got deeper into the bin, it jostled the tree, and Christopher, more. The Trike focused on nothing but the apples. In its attempts to get the last apples, the dinosaur hit the tree with the force of an earthquake. Apples fell from the tree, as did Christopher.

               The boy’s mind flashed a picture of pain and broken bones landing on the ground would entail. But he stopped only a couple of feet from the branch he fell from. He felt the ground where he landed. It was smoother than he thought it would be.

               “Hey! Are you a really large apple?” came a voice.

               The ground talked.

               “I’m not,” replied Christopher. “I’m a boy.”

               “Well, that’s different. I can’t eat you. But feel free to stay there while I finish eating.”

               Everything moved again. Christopher realized he was on the back of the Trike. And, it had talked! It now moved to the second bin and started eating.

               “I just filled that!”

               “And I thank you. The apples are delicious.”

               “But they aren’t your apples.”

               “I see. So, they aren’t here for anyone to eat?”

               “No. They belong to Mr. McGruder!”

               “Are you Mr. McGruder?”

               “No. I’m Christopher. I’m working here.”

               “Nice to meet you Christopher. My name is Crash.”

               “Crash? I guess that fits. You seem more like a Charge, though.”

               “I wanted to be called Charge, but someone else got that name first.”

               Christopher chuckled. The Trike cleared his throat.

               “Are you comfortable up there?”

               Christopher shuttered a little. He suddenly remembered all the stories about people who tried to tame Trikes. They usually ended with someone being trampled.

               “I…”

               “If you are, you can stay up there. I don’t mind.”

               Christopher smiled. “Do you mean it?”

               “Why not? You did fill those bins.”

               Christopher gave Crash’s back a rub.

               “Thank you.”

               There was a yell.

               “There he is!”

               Christopher looked to see Mr. McGruder, leading a group of men, or Olders, as they are called by most dinosaurs. They were carrying rakes, shovels, and brooms.

               “That’s the one eating our apples!” someone hollered.

               Mr. McGruder looked up at Christopher.

               “You’d better get down from there before he hurts you.”

               “I would never hurt a hatchling!” said Crash. “It’s just not done!”

               Everyone stopped, gaping at the Trike. Christopher smiled.

               “I know. It’s a bit scary at first.”

               “You talk?” Mr. McGruder asked.

               “Since the other night. Right after the storm.”

               The farmer shook his head, trying to make sense of it. He looked Crash in the eye.

               “Never mind that. What about my apples?”

               Christopher looked around. The ground had lots of red dots on it.

               “You know, if Crash bumped your trees, I’ll bet it brings down most of the apples. Would that make up for Crash’s appetite?”

               Mr. McGruder rubbed his beard. He nodded.

               “Let’s see if that works,” he said.

               For the next several hours, apples fell from the trees, as Crash’s bumping the trees did most of the work. Christopher sat atop the Trike, directing him through the orchard. The Olders followed, picking up the displaced fruit and filling bin after bin. The harvest never went this fast, or this easily.

               As dusk set in, most of the trees were without fruit. Mr. McGruder and the Olders were pleased with Crash’s work. They pulled a bin over for the Trike. Christopher slid down and joined the others for vegetable stew and apple cake.

               At the end of the meal, Christopher rejoined Crash.

               “That was fun. Thank you.”

               “It was! What do you want to do tomorrow?”

               Christopher hadn’t thought about that. Mr. McGruder came over and told Crash he could sleep in Barn Seven tonight, if he wanted. He told Christopher that he had room in the bunkhouse with the rest of the workers. The boy looked at Crash.

               “Would it be alright if I slept in Barn Seven too?”

               Mr. McGruder nodded. Crash knelt, allowing Christopher to climb on. The two said Good Night and headed off for a much-needed sleep.