[ WP ] Jurassic Pork , a subpar sci-fi novel

*REE-ER REE-ER REEEEEE.... BLOP BLOP* 
 
 I pull over. Behind me, a police car parks and a man exits. 
 
 The countryside is nice this time of year. I'll admit, it's odd; it's winter everywhere else. A perk of living in a giant terrarium. 
 
 The officer finally gets to my window. I hand him my license, livestock permit and registration before he asks. 
 
 `` Passport?'' He says, smiling. 
 
 I barely hear him. Ahead, a monstrous creature crosses the highway. 
 
 `` Ah, haha.. Ha,'' he looks ahead. `` Brontosaurus. Peter, if I'm not mistaken. Penny should n't be far behind. Passport?'' 
 
 I shake my head. Jesus, got ta get used to it. I live here now. `` Of course, here you are, officer...?'' 
 
 `` Malcolm. Dillon Malcolm. Thank you, I'll be right back.'' 
 
 My cargo stinks. I'm upwind, so I roll up my window and watch the brontosaurus retreat over the horizon. 
 
 Something catches my attention straight ahead. It's far off, but the highway is flat as can be. From here it looks like a military caravan. I shut my eyes and wait for officer Malcolm to finish the process. 
 
 *tap, tap* I roll down my window. 
 
 `` So, what brings you down here son?'' Malcolm hands me my credentials. I stash them in the glovebox. 
 
 `` I'm a butcher, sir. Entrepreneur, really. I haul and breed livestock as well.'' 
 
 `` No cattle back there, huh? I could go for a good meat steak after all the poultry from last month.'' He smiled. 
 
 `` No sir, pigs only. From what I understand, you guys are at max capacity for all livestock other than pigs.'' 
 
 `` Good on you, son. Just checking. You drive safe now. Carnivores come out at night, so get them inside quick, alright? Sun's coming down any minute.'' 
 
 Carnivores. Fuck. Me. `` Yes sir, thank you officer,'' I croak. 
 
 He goes back to his car. I lay my head on the steering wheel. 50 % of entrepreneurs have no idea what they're doing. Well shit, guilty. I shift into drive and continue down the highway. 
 
 The convoy is much closer. I can tell for certain that it's a military convoy, carrying some heavy shit. By the looks of it, its chemical. 
 
 10 and 2. 10 and 2. 
 
 I hear cries. Loud cries. The convoy continues. It's still ahead, moving my way. 
 
 Sounds like whales singing. I force myself to get used to it. It's almost pretty. 
 
 A brontosaurus comes barreling over the hill to my right. Trees fall. The ground shakes. The giant dinosaur is headed straight for the convoy. 
 
 Small arms fire from the convoy. It's less than a football field away. A machine gun on the lead vehicle opens on the bronto, hardly staggering it at all. 
 
 My pigs are going crazy. They were content the entire trip, but now all they can seem to think of is getting out. I stop the truck completely, hands shaking from adrenalin. 
 
 A monstrous right foot steps on the convoy, obliterating most of the vehicles. The truck carrying the payload breaks formation and races toward me. It's right in front of me when the left foot comes down, shattering the military truck into tiny pieces. 
 
 In my rearview mirror, Officer Malcolm stands outside of his car, lit road flare in hand. Do I need a road flare? I dig into my glovebox and grab a road flare. 
 
 As I look back to the road, a green goo paints my windshield. The bronto is long gone. Maimed bodies are scattered around the wreckage. In the back, the pigs cry louder. And louder. They sound more like wild hogs than livestock. 
 
 I open the divider and look into the cargo bay. 
 
 Green eyes peer back behind large, spiked tusks. A snarl, a slam. I close the divider. 
 
 I open the driver's side door and sprint down the highway, lit road flare in hand.
