RAPTORS

RAPTORS

Currently Illustrating:

T he Raptor Saga

by Wayne C. Robinson

**all works featured on this page are "In Progress" Status**

Sinjin Tackling Raptor (c) 2001, 2002 by Toni Donelow Stewart, all rights reserved.

Latest Cover, Work in Progress (uploaded 1-13-2002)

Special Edition (possible) Cover (in progress)

Raptor Painting 1 for Raptor Saga
(c) 2001 by Toni Donelow Stewart, all rights reserved.

First Raptor Drawing/Painting by Toni Donelow Stewart

Work in progress (updated but not completed!)

Also Work-in-progress! (not finished!)

THE RAPTOR SAGA

Wayne C. Robinson

Chapter One

Raptors--most people when they hear that name associate it with birds of prey. As a matter of fact, the dictionary meaning states: preying upon other animals, predatory. Adapted for seizing prey, as claws. Belonging or pertaining to the Raptores, a former order in which the falconiform and strigiform birds were birds erroneously grouped together. Raptor one who seizes by force, Robber. Well, in this story you are about to be told, I wish they had been birds of prey instead of the wroth engines of destruction I came to loath and respect.

My name is Justin Johnson. I am a billionaire, also black--two rare instances. How I acquired my fortune I will explain later. I have an estate in Sierra County, California. I own about fifty miles of land which includes part of the Sierra Nevada mountain range. You could say I am a bit of a nut. I love animals more than I do people. I have four wonderful pets; raised them all myself. Sinjin, my pet silver-tip grizzly bear; Tobar, my pet white tiger; and Sheba, my pet bald eagle--she's one mean bird. Also, I had a horse, Nitro, the only one of them who did not survive. I have a staff of about forty people. I lost about twenty of the best employees a man could have.

It started the day the earthquake hit San Francisco. I was watching the World Series on television. I was shocked and amazed how this event caused all my trouble eight months later when those shedded skins started showing up.

I had invited a few friends to Madre, my estate. We were in the pleasure room, a room I had designed for small gatherings. You could say I am somewhat of a philanthropist. As I said, my main love is animals. I was and still am giving all kinds of money to research. And, you know, you have got to have tax write-offs.

Well, that night there were about forty guests. They were all from different professions. I like to meet people like that because of the truly interesting conversations you can have. I was involved in a heavy one with a couple of professors on zoology. You see, I had raised Sinjin and Tobar from cubs and Sheba from a chick. I was always trying to pick up any information to help with my training of them. That was also the night I met her--Kathy Nolan, an archaeologist. I found her quite attractive. The first time I saw those beautiful amber eyes something went bang. She was stacked.

But, anyway, these two professors were going at it. I said, "Professor Smalls, I clocked Sinjin at forty miles a hour. That means he can outrun a horse."

"Mr. Johnson, how much does Sinjin weigh?"

I said, "Professor, he weighs eight-hundred fifty pounds plus and when he stands on his hind legs, he's between seven- and eight-feet tall."

"And you keep him for a pet?" came a sweet sounding voice behind me. I turned, and she said, "Hello, my name is Kathy."

I said, "Hello, my name is Justin. It's nice to meet you."

Just at that moment, the earthquake hit. Everybody in the room felt the tremor.

Fortunately, I had built Madre to withstand earthquakes.

Everybody's eyes were glued to the big screen TV. The newscasters were saying that we had just been through an earthquake. One of my most trusted aides and friend, Paul Goines, was immediately at my side. He whispered, "Justin, don't you think you should check out what's happening in the communications room?"

"No, Paul, I can't leave my guests," as he glanced at Kathy. "Please check the seismograph to see what the quake was on the Richter Scale and report back to me."

"Yes sir, Mr. Johnson," and off he went.

Most of my guests were in shock. My foreman, who takes care of the daily operations of Madre, Peter Fenwick, advised me he was off to check the grounds. I rogered that. I had spent a lot of money on Madre.

"Mr. Johnson, what was that?" Kathy asked.

"I think it was an earthquake," I replied. Not another word was spoken for about twenty minutes while all the news reports were coming in.

"Mr. Johnson. My name is Kathy Nolan, and I am here with a friend from the University, Karen Gordon. She is one of the world's foremost paleontologists."

I said, "My, my. What does a paleontologist and an archaeologist have in common?"

She said, "I will get her and you shall see. I think I see her standing on the other side of the room." Off she went.

Paul was on his way back as she was leaving. "Justin, there are some strange readings on the seismograph. They seem to be coming from the part of the estate up around the Sierra Nevada Mountains." Madre has about twenty square miles of land.

Peter Fenwick had climbed into the four-wheeler sitting in the driveway in front of Madre's thirty-eight room main house and started the engine. He eased the truck in gear and proceeded on his way to check the grounds. As Peter ascended the driveway, his mind began to wander. That boss of mine, he's something else. He is a very rare and extraordinary man. He's rare because very few . . .

**Note: Exerpt from "The Raptor Saga" is under Copyright by Wayne C. Robinson.