Z. Rex Read Online Free Page A

door, a big, burly, bearded guy looking anxious as he started out of the cab.
    “No, don’t. Stay where you are, please!” Adam limped quickly around to the passenger side and threw open the door. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
    “We?” The truck driver stared at him. “What are you talking about—?”
    “That!” Adam stabbed a finger at one of the huge wing mirrors, which showed a view of the intersection behind them. The ripple in the air was turning darker, like a deepening, scaly scratch on the surface of reality. Again, Adam thought he could make out the outline of some hideous giant creature, but the faint form kept blurring into shapes that his mind couldn’t make sense of.
    The color had drained from the trucker’s face as he slid back into his seat. “What is that thing?”
    “Whatever it is, it’s tearing up the whole neighborhood.” Adam slammed the passenger door and belted up. “Please, get us out of here!”
    From the way the trucker started whimpering, Adam guessed he’d got the message. Gunning the engine, the big man gripped the steering wheel and took the truck out onto the road. It accelerated away, but painfully slowly. Adam kept his eyes on the reflection, biting his lip as the weird, monstrous shadow creature pounded toward them. It was getting closer with every second. Any moment now it would catch up and then—
    Suddenly a deeper note sounded in the bloodcurdling shriek—and whatever it was stopped coming. The sound of tearing metal carried down the empty street, and as the truck finally growled around the corner, Adam saw a massive chunk of corrugated iron sail through the air and land with a brutal crash.
    The trucker crossed himself. “That looked like most of the factory roof.”
    Adam nodded slowly. “What kind of factory?”
    “Meatpacking plant.” The man’s eyes were flicking constantly between the road ahead and the wing mirrors. “A thousand tons of poultry shipping through every day.”
    “Then if that thing could smell the raw meat . . .” Adam shook his head in a daze. “How about that—saved by dead chickens!” Somehow it didn’t seem any less improbable than the rest of this morning’s events.
    “Where’d that roaring thing come from, anyway?” The trucker ran a sweaty hand through his hair. “Straight out of hell?”
    Adam didn’t say so, but he couldn’t think of a more likely explanation.

4
    MYSTERY
    W ith a few miles stretching between the truck and the wreck of his rented home, Adam’s adrenaline levels began to ebb. That was bad news on the injury front—suddenly he could feel every burn, bruise and scratch tattooing his body. He realized he looked a state: his jeans were ripped and dirty, his forehead was badly grazed and his arms were blackened with blood and oil from the tarmac.
    But the pain couldn’t keep deeper concerns from filling Adam’s head. All my stuff, buried and gone. . . . The rental car completely trashed. . . . What was that monster? Was it coincidence that Bateman and his friends had come to get him at the same time it had decided to run amok?
    And how did his dad figure in all this?
    “You know, I never pick up hitchhikers, kid,” the trucker growled, surlier now they were safely away. “Where am I dropping you?”
    “I guess we need to tell the police what happened,” said Adam.
    “ We nothing,” the trucker said flatly. “I’ve got a haul to make on schedule. Can’t afford to waste half the day jawing with a bunch of cops.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, got to be a normal explanation for all that—probably a movie crew. Special effects. Or one of those hidden camera shows where they film you and make you look like a jerk. . . . Well, I may’ve been pulling a week of all-nighters, but they won’t get me that easy!”
    Listening to the trucker do his best to dismiss all he had seen, Adam wished he could kid himself so easily. Then suddenly he remembered Dad’s text on his phone. He pulled it