Richard removes his pistol from its belt holster and keeps watch to the right.
Uneasily, Kidd steps forward, hands still gripping his bat. He approaches the front door (as far as he can tell).
"Hello? Hello the house!"
Richard keeps a wary eye on Rick and the house, while still keeping a watch on the right side of the group.
Rick knocks on the door and rattles the doorknob. Then he waits for a reaction from within.
Hearing the voice, Richard looks over his shoulder towards the farmhouse, his pistol still at the ready.
"Sir, we've just been in a plane crash! Can we borrow a phone, or can you call 911 yourself?"
Kidd looks at the door for a long moment, then back at his compadres, then back at the door.
"What? What the hell are you talking about?"
He shakes his head.
"Never mind, whatever. Do you have a phone or not?"
What year is it?
Sylar looks back at the others, the building doesn't look like it would last against a trex walking by. Wonder how he keeps them away.
Crew and passengers of Transglobal Airlines Flight 652 trans-Atlantic from New York to Heathrow, we crashed a bit after take off, landed in the ocean, washed up on shore, attacked by, and killed a dinosaur, came here. My name's Sylar. We have wounded with us. And it was 204 when I woke up this morning.
Sylar waves at the others step back a bit, lets not all crowd his front door.
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"Move along," the voice says gruffly, "We've no room here!"
From somewhere deeper within the house, a female voice arises. "Jeremy Mason, you open that door and let those poor folks in right this instant!"
"Damnit, Amanda! They're strangers!"
"Jeremy, the good book says that thou shalt not turn aside people in need, now you open that door."
There is a sound of several locks being released and the door swings open a crack. An elderly man of perhaps 60 years old peers out and gives the group the once-over. Seemingly satisfied, he opens the door and ushers you in, leveling his shotgun at you.
As you enter, a woman, also in her sixties, enters from another room. "Oh my goodness!" she exclaims upon seeing the wounded. "Bring them in and let me go and find some peroxide!"
The man says nothing further as she exits the room, but just stares at you threateningly.
Richard holsters his pistol and helps bring the wounded into the house. He also gets the liferafts first aid kit, to supplement whatever treatments the old woman might have in mind.
"We thank you greatly M'am, sir!. Would it be possible for the rest of us to rest in your barn? We do not wish to mess up your home."
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"Psh!" Amanda says as she returns carrying a bottle of peroxide. "I wouldn't hear of it. We don't get visitors all that often. You can bed down here in the parlor. I'm bound to have a few extra blankets, and the fireplace should keep you warm enough besides."
"Amanda..." the man chides, obviously concerned about this arrangement.
"Jeremy, I won't hear it. These people need our help! I won't turn them back out for one of those over-sized lizards to make lunch out of. God help them if they should come afoul of a rex, or worse, a ripper."
Ripper? We ran into a T-rex on the beach, it took a few shots, and fortunately didn't get a chance to chomp on anyone.
Sylar takes a look around, looking for any signs of technology. What happened? Where did the dino's come from?
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"You really don't know, do you?" Amanda replies, tending to the wounded.
"It started years ago," Jeremy says, relaxing a little. "Some idiot scientist-type read a book and decided it was a good idea to bring the dinosaurs back to life. I don't pretend to understand it, but somehow, they managed to do it. Problem is, one of them animal rights groups turned a bunch of 'em loose from a lab somewheres and now, 50 years later, we're knee-deep in the things."
"To make matters worse," Amanda says, picking up the tale, "The climate changed over time, making the Earth hotter in general, more habitable for the lizards."
Jeremy scoffs. "Rexes is bad enough, but rippers will tear your guts out. They're small and quick, and they've got a claw that they use to slit their prey open."
"Sounds like a Velociraptor mongoliensis," Robert chimes in. "Best remembered from the Jurassic Park movies, though there were some inaccuracies with those films."
"Raptor... yup, that sounds about right," Jeremy replies.
Interesting, it doesn't feel hotter. But we sure found an ocean where there should be farmland. Just how many dinosaurs they make? Should have been no problem for the military to take care of that issue.
"Fifty. Years."
Kidd shakes his head, not sure he heard right.
Richard stands stunned at what the farmer tells them.
Fifty Years...how could fifty years just disappear in a few hours? What happened to us on that plane? And dinosaurs! What the hell happened?
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"No one knows for sure how many there were. The military did deal with a few of them, but nobody knows for sure how many specimens or eggs were taken. By the time anyone realized this, we were overrun." Jeremy explains.
Well," Robert responds, "If we assume that just a handful escaped, then in 50 years, there could be hundreds, if not thousands of them. You've heard the analogy that two cats can have seven kittens, each of which can have seven kittens, each of which can have seven kittens? The same theory applies. If each male-female pair can lay three to seven eggs in a clutch, and assuming a survival rate of 50%... that's two survivors from each clutch on average, and a growth rate of... I'm sorry, math was never my strong-suit.
"And if we assume that they can cross-breed with crocodiles or alligators, which is not an unreasonable assertion, depending on what methods were used in their resurrection. Well, you can see that the results are astounding."
Jeremy resumes his tale, "Scientists are at a loss to explain how they grew or multiplied so fast. They say that even with 50 years of growth factored in, there shouldn't be more'n a few dozen, but no one knows where they all came from." He shrugs. "All I know is that they're here and we have to deal with the problem."
"but...how did we get here? I mean, that is all fine and good for the dinosaurs, but it does not explain how we ended up here...."
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Jeremy can only shake his head helplessly.
"Wormhole," Kyle, the navigator, offers.
"It's a theory," James Michaelson says, "Though I'd prefer something a little more scientifically plausible."
"Excuse me, but I think that we're all forgetting what's important here," Gregor snaps. "If these... people... don't have a phone, then we need to move on and find one, or some point of civilization! You," he points at Jeremy, "Where's the nearest town? How far?"
Jeremy is obviously offended by the man's posture and tone, but answers nonetheless. "Nearest town of any consequence would be Brockton, about 10 miles as the crow flies to the northwest. They aren't that big, but they are a walled city and they're well known as a trading post."
I'd suggest learning a bit more from these kind folk before blidnly moving on. Like, this Brockton place. They have the same laws we're used to? Is there still a USA? Do we need to worry about bandits?
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"Most of the walled cities are pretty much civilized, though each has their own set of rules and enforcers. As for whether the USA still exists; not so much. When it was clear that the government couldn't handle the dinos, things kinds of splintered, with each state being responsible for it's own self. But the states couldn't maintain borders, so that fell apart and each of the cities had to take care of itself. The big cities were pretty much abandoned in favor of smaller, easier to protect settlements.
"Bandits are a problem in the outlands between the cities. The big problem, of course, is the dinos, but bandits add to it."
"Bandits?! Oh, my god! What else could go wrong? Do we need guns now?"
Sylar continues to ask questions, trying to get a feel for what has changed and what is in store.
Status of internet? What about the rest of the world? Dino's breaking loose seems like it would be regional. US government? Tanks didn't make big holes in dino's? How do they survive on this farm? Seems weird the military couldn't hold back the dino's but this rickety farmhouse can.
Who won the last superbowl? Ham radio work?
How far has society regressed? (Looking for a decade or level of technology to compare to, i.e. WWI era, 1800's etc.)
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"Internet? Hah, not fer several years, at least. Last I heard, all hell was breaking loose elsewhere, too. It's like the lizards getting' loose was a secondary thing. Somethin' else was at the heart o' the matter," Jeremy explains.
"Sur'n the gov'mint got involved. There was lotsa shootin' an' they took out a fair number of 'em, but the things jest kept comin."
"How'd we survive? Grow my own food, son, and got a freshwater well out back. The lizards come 'round occasionally, but we stay quiet and they pretty much move on. The bandits are a bigger problem than the lizards. Lost half my crop last year when they raided."
"As fer the last Superbowl, I'm 'fraid I couldn't say. Don't got much time fer entertainment. An' I don' know nuthin 'bout no radios. Ours ain't worked since sometime around a decade ago."
Looking around, you notice that there are several candles and oil lamps around the house, despite the existence of electric lighting.
"Well lets get these people under cover and patched up, then we can decide on what course of action we should take. It seems like there will be no authorities to come and help us out, so we are going to have to rely on each other."
Richard will begin to go through his things to see what he has that is useful and what can be left behind.
"How close was that town you talked about?"
"Well that suits me just fine. Lets head out tomorrow to this town. Perhaps we can get more answers there, as well as arrange to pick up the wounded and, hopefully, bring them to medical help. Who will join me?"
I'll go. There are just a few too many questions. While it is certainly weird enough that these mad scientist dinosaurs could A) get out of control a.k.a. Jurassic Park, B) overwhelm the military armed with tanks and big things that go boom, it's mostly C) how we managed to end up out of time.
"I guess I'll go too. Jest sittn' waiting fer rescue aint gonna work now."
Kidd frowns in thought.
"'Scuse me sir, but these bandits, what kind a weapons to they use when they attack?"