Z. Rex Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 0 - HUNTER

  Chapter 1 - REALITY

  Chapter 2 - DESTRUCTION

  Chapter 3 - SURVIVAL

  Chapter 4 - MYSTERY

  Chapter 5 - FUGITIVE

  Chapter 6 - MONSTER

  Chapter 7 - ENCOUNTER

  Chapter 8 - ASSAULT

  Chapter 9 - DEPARTURE

  Chapter 10 - FLIGHT

  Chapter 11 - HOMECOMING

  Chapter 12 - INTRUDER

  Chapter 13 - PURSUIT

  Chapter 14 - CONTACT

  Chapter 15 - SLAUGHTER

  Chapter 16 - FALTER

  Chapter 17 - LOST

  Chapter 18 - CARNAGE

  Chapter 19 - CELLS

  Chapter 20 - SECRETS

  Chapter 21 - OPPORTUNITIES

  Chapter 22 - BATTLEGROUND

  Chapter 23 - KILLING

  Chapter 24 - ENDING

  SOMETHING’S LURKING IN THE DARK. . . .

  A hard snout nudged up against Adam’s ear and breathed out. The warning rasp of its breath was like sandpaper on his senses. Adam stopped talking, clamped his teeth down on his lower lip and tried to stop shaking. He was half grateful to the darkness for hiding most of this thing, yet terrified by the thought of what else might be lurking—

  Something moved to his right.

  The shadowy shape growled menacingly. It sniffed the air as it padded about the cave—and suddenly, a fierce yellow glare spat from spotlights in the rocky ceiling. Lights? Where did the lights come from? Adam screwed up his eyes, blinked as his vision slowly adjusted.

  Then, as the monster stood fully revealed at last, he wished they hadn’t.

  A dinosaur was glaring down at him.

  A living, breathing, dark-green dinosaur. Like a T. rex.

  OTHER BOOKS YOU MAY ENJOY

  FOR TOBEY

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)

  Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)

  Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi - 110 017, India

  Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Registered Offices: Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published in the United States of America by Philomel Books, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2009

  Published by Puffin Books, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2010

  Copyright © Steve Cole, 2009

  All rights reserved

  THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS HAS CATALOGED THE PHILOMEL BOOKS EDITION AS FOLLOWS: Cole, Stephen, 1971—

  Z. Rex / Steve Cole.

  p. cm.—(The hunting ; bk. 1)

  Summary: From Santa Fe, New Mexico, to Edinburgh, Scotland, thirteen-year-old

  Adam Adlar must elude police while being hunted by a dinosaur come-to-life from a virtual reality game invented by his father, who has gone missing.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-43455-0

  [1. Dinosaurs—Fiction. 2. Virtual reality—Fiction. 3. Fathers and sons—Fiction.

  4. New Mexico—Fiction. 5. Edinburgh (Scotland)—Fiction.

  6. Scotland—Fiction. 7. Science fiction.]

  I. Title. II. Title: Zed Rex.

  PZ7.C67356Zad 2009

  [Fic]—dc22 2009006637

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This one’s been quite a ride, and scaly, dinosaur-sized thanks are due to . . . Michael Green—for saying yes and pushing me in the right direction. Courtenay Palmer and Kiffin Steurer—who’ve watched out for Zed and me. Philippa Milnes-Smith—for all the deals and all she deals with. Jill Cole, my wife—for everything she does.

  0

  HUNTER

  The creature had no name. There was nothing like it on Earth.

  But tonight it would show everyone what it could really do.

  Massive and powerful, the creature smashed a path through the moonlit forest. It tore apart the brushwood, uprooting tall trees that had stayed standing for hundreds of years. Its night vision brought a bloodred tint to the shadow landscape.

  It was hunting.

  Supernatural senses had already pierced the skin of its prey like great, invisible fangs. The creature scented hot blood coursing through veins. Heard the stroke of limbs brushing together. Felt the currents in the air swirling around its victim. With every splintering stride, the picture became clearer. . . .

  The hunting creature did not know why its target had been chosen for death this night. But killing was something it did exceptionally well.

  There. In the forest clearing, in the darkness, its prey was hiding. Keeping stock-still.

  As if that might save it.

  A triumphant roar built in the hunter’s throat. The undergrowth exploded around it as it flew like a living missile toward its victim, baring gleaming, knife-point teeth. . . .

  Less than a second later, the creature held its prey in its snapped-shut jaws.

  Mission accomplished.

  The perfect kill.

  A small group of people were waiting, watching, wondering as the creature returned. “An impressive result,” said one onlooker softly. “We’re ready to move to the next phase.”

  The creature sensed the fear and excitement mingling in its audience. It turned away, looking back into the forest. A forest that it might once have called home, far away and long ago.

  Then the creature stalked over to the man who had spoken, looming over him. With a flick of its thick tongue, it spat the remains of its victim at his feet.

  1

  REALITY

  Adam Adlar kicked down the door and burst into the darkness beyond it. He paused for a moment, marveling that he felt no pain in his foot, only a pleasing thrill of strength. Then a low growl sounded from the thick shadows ahead of him. Something large had been cooped up in here, something deadly. But Adam knew he could take it. He knew—

  “DIE, INTRUDER!” A monstrous, twisted figure lunged at him from out of the shadows, its red eyes glinting, its terrifying claws scrabbling for his face. Adam hurled himself under the creature’s arms. With his head tucked down, he hit the stone floor on his shoulder, his momentum carrying him into a perfect forward roll that left him back on his feet a moment later. Exulting in his power and agility, he twirled back around and landed a brutal karate chop to the monster’s side, cracking its ribs like brittle chalk.

  Ignoring the creature’s agonizing scream, barely pausing for breath, Adam launched into his favorite fight moves, which were now as natural to him as breathing, a stomp kick followed by a jab cross. He lashed out with his left foot, sending the creature staggering backward, and followed up with right and left jabs in rapid succession, fists smacking into hard flesh. The monster wasn’t getting back up from that combo.

  Every sense wired and buzzing, Adam charged onward into the gloom and
found another door. He booted it, feeling the jolt in his foot, but this time the door didn’t open. He kicked again, and then again even harder, but the door wouldn’t give an inch.

  “Come on!” he yelled, frustration edging into fear as wet, scraping, slobbering noises started up behind him and the stench of rotten meat filled his nostrils. “Dad, this isn’t fair!” He spun back around, hoping to find another exit from the enemy’s lair before it was too late. A low, gurgling chuckle carried from the dark. Taloned fingers closed around his throat, squeezed tighter, tighter. Adam felt a wave of nausea, a rush of oncoming darkness—

  GAME OVER.

  And Adam was back on the couch in the testing lab, soaked with sweat and panting for breath, half terrified, half ecstatic. Exiting Ultra-Reality was more like waking from a vivid, incredible dream than quitting a game. For a moment he wasn’t sure which was reality, this windowless industrial unit in New Mexico or the dark, digital lair he’d left behind. But as his racing heart slowed, Adam took in the Ultra-Reality console—its staring green bulb extinguished now—and his dad standing over him, carefully pulling the heavy headset from his temples and the sensor pads from his fists and feet.

  “Wow,” said Adam groggily. “That was awesome, the realest ever. You’re a genius, Dad—”

  “C’mon now, take it easy,” Mr. Adlar soothed him in his warm Midwestern accent. “Get your breath back.”

  “You are, though.” Adam wasn’t just being loyal; when the bugs were fixed, he knew that U-R would be the ultimate gaming experience. The console turned thoughts into computer commands and game code into things you could feel. Instead of using a controller or waving your arms, you could just think what you wanted a character to do, really become the hero. In an instant, Adam could transform from a skinny, darkhaired Edinburgh teen into a blond, muscular monster slayer surrounded by admiring girls and sidekicks. And thanks to the sensor pads, you could even feel an impression of the impact of blows and footfalls. Ultra-Reality lived up to its name.

  “I was following your gameplay on screen.” His dad looked concerned. “What happened with that door you couldn’t open?”

  “I don’t know,” said Adam. “Was it me? Did your favorite test subject mess up?”

  “My only test subject,” Dad reminded him evenly. “The Think-Send technology—”

  “Copyright and trademark, Bill Adlar.”

  “—was modeled on your brain waves. Right now, the game wouldn’t work at all with anyone else playing it.”

  Adam watched his father’s forehead furrow into deep, familiar creases. He remembered that when Mum was still around, his dad seemed always to be smiling. Each new triumph had sent him dancing around the room, playing air guitar till his glasses fell off. Although born in Michigan, he’d gone to Edinburgh to do his postdoctorate in computer science and fallen in love with the place—and with Adam’s mum. They’d started a family there, he’d had a nice income from dozens of patents, and life must have seemed pretty good.

  That was then, and this is now, Adam thought. Mum had died four years ago, and Dad had thrown himself ever further into his work perfecting Ultra-Reality. But developing a new games system wasn’t cheap, especially one as groundbreaking as U-R. And since the really big players had passed on it—“too ambitious,” they’d said—Mr. Adlar had been forced to work with smaller companies. So far, these firms had always run out of funding before he could deliver the goods, and Adam had watched his dad grow grayer and gaunter with each setback.

  “I dunno. . . .” Adam shrugged. “Maybe I didn’t imagine what I wanted to do hard enough?”

  Mr. Adlar shook his head. “I’ll go through the command translator log, see if any glitches jump out at me.”

  “Do you think you’ll be finished before we have to get back to Edinburgh?” Adam smiled. “I mean, if it’s any help, I don’t mind missing the start of school—”

  “We’ve only got the lease on the apartment till the third week of August,” Mr. Adlar murmured. “Frankly, I doubt I’ll still be here by then. There was a lot riding on today’s test. If it’s back to the drawing board . . .” He forced a smile. “Aw, what the hell, it’s not the end of the world. I have other irons in the fire.”

  Adam raised his eyebrows. “You mean another company’s interested in taking on Ultra-Reality?”

  His dad hesitated. “Well, in developing some of the key technology, anyway. It’s a research center called Fort Ponil—someone I used to work with got in touch. They’re fairly local, based outside Los Alamos. We’re meeting this evening with a couple of suits to discuss it.”

  “Oh, right.” Adam couldn’t hide his disappointment. “So, I’ve got microwave pizza for one again tonight, huh?”

  “Sorry.” Mr. Adlar ruffled Adam’s hair. “But you know, it won’t be forever.”

  Adam was soon outside on his bike in the afternoon glare, pedaling away from the ugly steel warehouse unit. The asphalt roads shimmered in the heat like dark canals as he made his way back to the apartment in a soulless, purpose-built modern block just outside the gates to the industrial park. Black Mesa, the vast, flat-topped mountain that straddled three states, loomed darkly over the arid plains beyond the chain-link fences.

  The whole high-tech development felt out of place here in the epic wilderness beyond Santa Fe. Most of the buildings in these parts looked old even if they weren’t. He’d even seen gas stations disguised as ancient Native American monuments, trying to blend in. It felt wrong somehow to see industry here on show in all its sharp-angled sleekness. Adam felt a twinge of longing for the rainy skies and blackened sandstone of Scotland—followed immediately by the fear that he might be flying back there alone. He was thirteen now, not a kid, and Dad had made mutterings in the past about sending him to boarding school or to distant relatives in England. Neither option appealed much to Adam, but what could he do? He never had much say in what Dad did.

  He gritted his teeth and pedaled faster. Sometimes he wished he could disappear into a virtual world where he won all the fights and just stay there.

  Adam spent the night eating pizza and riffling through a bunch of new games for his Xbox. Five weeks here and he still wasn’t comfortable. The second-floor apartment was more like a show home than somewhere you’d actually live. Lacking in furniture as well as charm, it felt hollow, impersonal. No one else lived in the building, so when Dad was away the loneliness was overwhelming.

  Mr. Adlar finally made it back after midnight. Adam could tell at once that something interesting had gone down. His dad seemed distracted, a bundle of nervous energy, but he was trying not to show it. That had to mean he was hopeful—Adam knew his dad’s moods better than he knew his own.

  “So, how’d it go?” asked Adam, switching off the TV.

  “Not much to tell at this stage,” Mr. Adlar said cagily, perching on the edge of the sofa. “But there could be. They’re doing amazing things, things you wouldn’t believe. . . .” He drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa. “The organization’s bigger than I thought. They’ve got facilities all over the world—including one not a million miles from Edinburgh.”

  “Yeah?” Adam perked up. “Sounds perfect!”

  “Not exactly. First, I need to find out more about . . . the project.” He looked at Adam. “You can look after yourself, right, Ad? If I have to leave you on your own for a bit?”

  Here we go, thought Adam. “Why?”

  “I’ve arranged a short leave of absence with my current partners—’cause if I want to secure a place with these guys, I’ve got to stay at Fort Ponil for a couple of nights. Work on some top secret stuff. Show how indispensable I can be.”

  If it means we can both stay in Edinburgh, I’ll put up with anything, thought Adam. “Look, I’m used to your work keeping you tied up for days. I can handle it. I’m big enough.”

  “And ugly enough,” his dad agreed.

  Adam grinned. “Plus, it means I can stay up as late as I like. Bring it on!”

  “
Bring it on. . . . Right.” Mr. Adlar stared into space. “Thanks, Adam. It’ll only be for two or three days, tops.”

  Mr. Adlar left the next morning in the big, black Cadillac sent to collect him. Adam put on a brave face and waved his father off. But he didn’t like the look of the car. As it pulled away down the quiet, dust-blown street, it reminded him of a hearse.

  The sedan disappeared with his dad into the distant mountains, which were glowing bloodred in the morning sun.

  2

  DESTRUCTION

  Dad!” Adam woke up from the nightmare, shouting for his father. Then he remembered how things were and let his head fall back against the pillow. No sense in wasting his breath.

  “Day nine on my own,” he muttered.

  Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he padded through the darkened apartment to Dad’s room, unable to resist checking. Maybe he came back in the night, Adam thought. Maybe this time—

  The door stood wide open. The bed was empty and unmade. A brown leather briefcase lay where he’d kicked it the night before.

  Nothing had changed. Dad still wasn’t back.

  Adam went back to his bedroom to work out his next move. It would probably involve playing his Xbox. He hadn’t done much else since Dad had disappeared. He checked the clock. It was five A.M. He must have dozed off around one-thirty, still in his jeans and T-shirt. The High Scores league table filled the wide screen, his name alone listed again and again.

  Adam knew his mates back home in Scotland would be jealous of the life he’d been living—his own place, own space, a cookie jar full of cash, an endless supply of delivery food, no nags or hassles or Time for beds. . . . But right now, he was sick of freedom.

  You’ve got some serious sucking up to me to do when you get back, Dad.