My Friend Henry

         In the deep Congo territory of Africa, Anja Sami whack, whacked his way through the dense undergrowth of the jungle, leading a small tour-group of two.
         “How much further?” The grey-headed old man was impatient.
         “We’re almost there. The coordinates you gave were very far off the designated tour path. What do you expect to find?”
         “That’s none of your business. I paid you to lead, not ask questions.”
         He had been paid, true, but also threatened and coerced and, when he still refused, forced to lead this group. The younger man, the man with the gun, was lagging behind. He was too fat for such a difficult journey.
         Anja stopped. “Before we go any further, let me scout up ahead. The area belongs to Samuel Carro and I don’t want his tribesmen to be surprised. They will shoot us if they are surprised.”
         “They have guns?”
         “They have poison darts and they’re very good with them. You’ll be dead before you can shoot back with your guns.”
         “Alright, but I’m following close behind. I am not going to let you out of my sight.”
         “Fine, sir. I will be right back and lead you the rest of the way to your coordinates. We are close.”
         Without waiting for a response, Anja whack, whacked his way forward until he reached a clearing. The man hadn’t stayed as close as he’d promised. For fear of the darts, Anja imagined, and smiled inwardly.
         “Henry!” Anja whispered. “Henry, run!”
         Through the rustle of bushes, a creature the size of a warthog appeared. Fat bodied, long necked, with red scales and thin iridescent black wings, it was a creature from another age. Seeing Anja, the dinosaur ran towards him. Anja knelt, whispered in its ear. It ran away, quickly. It was a survivor.
(299 words)