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Ahab had listened to old soldiers relate tales of near death they had had in their youth. He had heard his comrades give breathless tales of near meetings with their Maker. He had tried to picture in his mind what seeing your entire life fly before your eyes looked liked; for that is what his buddies said it had seemed. He himself had had close encounters before, but not like staring into the jaws of death — literally.

But just then, it clicked. And he got it. He understood what they had meant. The steaming, stinking breath of the raptor faded; as well as the gleaming eye and the saliva-dripping dagger-teeth. In just a few seconds that seemed like a lifetime — like hours and days and months and years — his boyhood, his young adult years, and his up-to-that-point manhood flashed in his mind and in front of his face; yet it seemed far away.

It was like he was at a play-house, a theater, watching from the back of the room as actors portrayed his life from infancy to now in stunning accuracy and on stunning sets. But yet, they seemed to be right up against his nose. He winced as he saw the fights in the school-yard…. His first battle…. Randy’s death…. And everything after that. Every evil, horrible thing he had ever done… every life he had ever ended in a skirmish…. Every selfish decision, every moment of pain —

And then it was gone.

His life had ended.

Or was about to.

The tongue was basically lolling in his face when the little lighting dart shot into the monster’s neck like a sparking, staticky shooting star. “The little winged fellow?” thought Ahab just before it fell.

The dinosaur had barely any time to roar as it collapsed right on top of the man. Ahab had no time to shout either. He didn’t even have time to move. He fell backwards and crashed into a spiky bush with the raptor on top of him — and he would’ve died had not Allen’s blade been full of an electric charge that helped to speed up the paralyzing of the giant beast. It flailed and moaned, just missing Ahab’s face with it’s jaws and ripping into his shoulder. Ahab howled in agony and instinctively moved his other arm before the dino slammed into it, shoving his balled fist against the side of its face. The creature’s claws scratched his skin and it’s cold scales and putrid smell made him want to gag — similar to the feeling he got when going down the stone steps to the Gapes below the Palace Hybern.

His arm and side were warm with blood. And he couldn’t breathe. The weight of the monster pushed against his chest; and as it died, it slowed down, which made it dead weight. Weight that wouldn’t move. Ahab almost panicked. He did panic. His heart raced a hundred miles an hour and his mind screamed at him to do something. He tried pushing with his good arm, but that wasn’t enough. His legs were trapped. If only he could get them free — but he couldn’t, could he? He shoved harder, until he could pull up his knees. And then get his feet on the rapidly cooling body. And then kick.

He was able to push the creature’s body off of his own far enough so that he could roll away in the split second before it dropped on him again. And then he lay there, panting and gasping for air, his chest heaving and his arm red and sticky. He sat up, and put his hand on his shoulder. He winced. It was bad. And what made it worse was that Erin would probably find him, or Calixta, or Ehud, or even that magical Allen fella. And they wouldn’t offer to patch up his wound or give him a drink.

No. They wouldn’t. Ahab hung his head and gritted his teeth. No. Because of who he had become. He knew he was wrong. He knew it. His deepest heart hadn’t been fooled, and although he had continually pushed away his conscience, it was still there. But he had come so far already, even though others had had to pay for it. He could’ve been better. He didn’t have to turn that way. But he did. And right now, he couldn’t turn back. No; right now, it was too late. And right now, he had to stop the flowing blood.

He sat where he was, next to the deceased dino, and tore the bottom of his tunic off, and then ripped it again. How he wished he had some water, or healing balm. But he would have to make do with what he had for now. Ahab dabbed at his shoulder with one strip of cloth, and then wrapped it the best he could with the other. He stood up, wincing at the pain. He would have to find some clean water, and some sort of healing plant. He had to keep it from getting infected. And he had to keep from being murdered.

Like you murdered so many.