The Wihtikow Rex: The Lukas Encounters, Book 2

By Stuart Adams and Rick Jacobson

The terrifying Wîhtikow Rex takes centre stage in this exciting second book in The Lukas Encounters.

The mysterious creature---a Tyrannosaurus rex skeleton that Lukas and his cousin KC accidentally bring to life---is described in Cree mythology as a ravening monster that grows as it consumes its victims.

The adventure

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rock's Mills Press
• Release date: Nov 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9781772443141

Stuart Adams

Stuart Adams is a long-time hiker of the Alberta Badlands, where he once encountered Dr. Philip Currie at a dinosaur dig. He has worked in journalism and business communications, and is the author of the best-selling 7 Sleeps Until Christmas. He was born in Alberta's Peace River country and raised in Edmonton. He has lived in various spots around Alberta as well as in Montréal and Vancouver.

Book preview

1

The Ladder Leap

Frieda’s voice floated up to Lukas, echoing through the rafters just above him. Don’t jump, Lukas! Come down … Lukas! Lukas?

He shifted his feet on the ladder rung—planks nailed across two vertical studs on the end wall of the hayloft, reaching from the floor to the rafters. One arm was wrapped around a rung. He clutched the next higher one with his free hand and tightened his grip.

His young cousin’s voice sounded reedy, almost shrill, and then he heard her add softly, Lukas. You’re making me scared.

He looked out across the empty hayloft, and then down at Frieda. With her head tilted back, her face shone white in the dim light. Her long, dark brown braids dangled behind her—dangled like the heavy rope that arced from a rafter to where he held it to his chest.

Frieda’s hands were clasped together against the front of her red t-shirt. Her brother, KC, stood beside her with a hand on one of her shoulders, his face angled upward as well. He had the other hand cupped behind his head, as though he was thinking of a question. From Lukas’ vantage point on the ladder, KC loomed over Frieda, making her look younger than her nine years.

Lukas corrected himself with a wry smile. "Nine and a HALF years! she’d huffed the previous weekend when he’d arrived on The Farm—and had told her that he was going into Grade Nine, just like KC, and that she’d never catch them. His smile spread into a grin as he recalled her propping her fists on her hips—the same hands she now had clasped in concern—and added, I’m going into Grade FIVE!"

The thick rope weighed heavy across his shoulders, the fibre whiskers tickling and scratching his neck above his t-shirt. The end, a thick knot, knocked against a leg and he looked up and followed the shallow arc up to where it was tied to a rafter, almost in the middle of the hayloft. Rope smell filled his nostrils—oily and pungent. Reaching a hand along the rope, he gave it a gentle jerk that sent it swaying from side to side, reminding him of a skipping rope.

Lukas measured its thickness against his wrist—almost the same diameter—more than strong enough to support him, even leaping from such a height. He kicked the knot— almost twice the size of a softball—which he’d be standing on when he stepped out … into thin air.

Thin air. He drew in a lungful of hayloft air through his nostrils—it was damp from two days of rain. Lukas paused, then exhaled a long sigh as he leaned back and glanced up at the two rungs that led to the top of the ladder.

The ladder was centred in the middle of the end wall of the loft—planks nailed to studs that reached from the floor to the rafters. They were spaced quite far apart. When he stood on one, the next one above was as high as his knee. He was perched on the sixteenth rung, only a few rungs below the rafters and the top of the wall.

Lukas snorted to himself. Yeah, Frieda. You think YOU’RE scared. Yu-PP-ers, muttered Lukas. Popping the double p. No question about it, I’m up pretty high. This is going to be some Ladder Leap.

He pulled himself back into the ladder and pressed his thigh against the rope. Once more, Frieda’s voice drifted up to him. Why isn’t he answering me?

Take your time, Lukas, shouted KC, and he paused before adding, maybe come down a rung, or two…

KC’s voice had squeaked a little on the Lu- of Lukas, and on the or two. His voice had turned husky for a 13-year-old, and sometimes it would crack and squeak when he shouted … or became excited.

Lukas looked down again to see his cousin turn to Frieda, and his next words were as quiet as his little sister’s had been—barely a murmur, but they travelled up the ladder as well. He’s up horrifically high…

Lukas took another deep breath before shifting his feet, resettling his grip on the rung.

He gazed out across the loft. Rain was pelting a gentle rhythm on the barn roof. The air seemed moist, but somehow dusty at the same time. Below, the floorboards were bare, only a few scattered wisps of straw in the corners remained from the stockpile that had almost filled the loft to the rafters in the fall.

Lukas…? carried up from Frieda.

Lukas shouted his reply out into the rafters and the loft— to himself, as much as to his cousins. In a sec … just collecting myself a little … up here.

He and KC were the same age and school holidays always included stays on The Farm where their fathers had been raised. The hayloft rope was suspended from a rafter and almost reached the floor. They had swung on it since they were Frieda’s age. During the summer, when the hayloft was empty, they ran with the rope and leaped into the air, clinging to it and pulling themselves up to get their feet on the knot to swing back and forth. Eventually, they took turns standing on the knot while the other ran and pushed them as though they were on a swing.

In the winter, they would do their Jungle Jumps. By Christmas, the cattle and the horses had consumed enough feed so that they could climb the ladder and use the rope to swing out over the hay, before letting go and falling into the soft straw.

As he surveyed the empty loft, Lukas mouthed the words Jungle man! to himself—the cry they’d make, pretending they were Tarzan, swinging on the rope, pretending that they were clinging to a vine, swinging through the trees. The rope would drag behind them as they swooped over the hay.

But when Lukas had arrived at The Farm that summer, KC had invented a new daredevil jump: the Ladder Leap, where they’d leap across the empty hayloft.

They’d still drag the rope up the ladder on the end wall and leap off but, with the loft empty of hay, KC showed Lukas how to stand on the knot and swing from the ladder across the loft.

Jungle Jumps are easy because there’s hay to fall into and you just have to hang onto the rope until you want to let go, KC had instructed when first demonstrating the Ladder Leap, but now, the trick is that you have to make sure you stand on the knot—with both feet. It’s viciously important. Because when you jump from the ladder, you fall for a bit, until you hit the end of the rope. That’s when you have to have your feet solid on the knot to take your weight, or … well, it could get brutally ugly.

The heavy knot. Against his leg. The rope stretched up over his shoulder to the rafters. The empty loft spread out below him. He wished there was even a small amount of hay, but no hay until the fall.

Lukas cast another glance up to the rafters and smiled. No rush. He could reminisce a little. Take his time.

Every fall, his father would look forward to travelling to The Farm to put up the hay. Up until that year, he and KC only watched as their fathers hauled the hay up off the hay wagon into the loft with a pulley and the Dino Jaws— tongs that gobbled up great mouthfuls of straw like a huge, hay-eating dinosaur and then released it in the loft. Lukas had given the tongs their name and at some point, his father and Uncle Ben had adopted the term.

When the Dino Jaws were operating, dust from the hay rose to the rafters.

As they loaded in the hay, their fathers would be careful to hold the rope aside so it wouldn’t get buried—the rope that was now draped across Lukas’ shoulder.

And each season the men would grin and share their memories of swinging on the rope when they had been boys on The Farm. What KC called the Jungle Jump, they’d referred to as Doing the Tarzan or Let’s do a little Tarzan.

The previous fall, Lukas and KC had teased their fathers and asked if they’d beat their chests before or after doing the Tarzan. Their fathers had simply looked at one another and smiled and said—almost in unison—That’s for us to know, and you to find out.

The youths were used to Ken and Ben talking in almost one voice. When they had been growing up, everyone called them by the single name Ken-and-Ben.

Filling the loft would take almost a full day, and once completed, Ken-and-Ben had their ritual climb up the ladder and across the hay pile to the rafter where the heavy rope was tied. The rope wrapped around the thick beam in a groove that had become smooth and shiny. One of the brothers always brought a small container of grease and they used a stick to spread a new layer around the groove. Years of applications and dust had turned the rope black where it looped around the rafter.

The cousins had joined their fathers in the ritual the last few years, and every year, one of their fathers would inspect the rope and the knot and pronounce, Rope’s okay, and the other would reply, Yep, give it a good greasing around that beam.

The crawl and the greasing of the rope was Lukas’ favourite part of putting up the hay. But this fall, he hoped that he and his cousin could take a more active role. They both wanted to learn how to operate the Dino Jaws.

A gust of wind spattered rain on the roof.

Lukas returned to where he was standing on the ladder. Frieda and KC stood below him on hard boards, almost directly beneath where the rope he was holding was tied to its beam.

KC had both his hands on his hips. Hey! Lukas! Did you hear me? he called, his husky squeak rising at the end of his question.

Another snort filtered through Lukas’ nostrils. Yeah, well, maybe I’ll go up another one, too, he hollered, after a moment.

OK, cousin, but don’t let yourself get TOO savagely… KC’s voice trailed off.

Lukas looked up. Two more rungs to reach the rafters. He sighed. KC had made a Ladder Leap from the fifteenth rung that morning, just before Aunt Bobby called them in for milk and muffins. They’d crossed the yard, celebrating KC’s Ladder Leap. He’d invented it, and now, he’d set the record for the highest Leap in the history of The Farm.

Pausing once more, Lukas remembered his first Ladder Leap—from lower rungs. He’d only managed to get a single foot on the knot and when he’d reached the end of the rope, the shock of his weight broke his grip and he’d slid down the rope, burning his hands as he’d plunged toward the floor.

Because he hadn’t been far up the ladder, he’d only slipped a short way and was able to run along the floor, clinging to the rope to maintain his balance. But he could still feel the burn as it had scorched through his hands—and the fright that had gripped his chest. YuPP, have to get BOTH feet on the knot—especially when you jump from this height, he muttered. Or yes … brutally ugly.

Now, Lukas was going to make the swing from the seventeenth rung—one rung higher than where he stood—two rungs above where KC had set his record.

Lukas squinted at the row of rafters. Well, why not? It doesn’t look so high, he thought as he reached up for the next rung, but maybe don’t look down for a while…

There he was … still standing on the sixteenth rung— one more to the seventeenth. Below him, KC’s and Frieda’s whispers carried up to him.

That’s REALLY high, hissed Frieda. What if he can’t hang on?

Ssh. He’ll make it. And don’t distract him. "Well, it scares me. I don’t like it."

Listen, be quiet. He can do this. You don’t know Lukas like I do.

Lukas smiled to himself. Good old KC…

Drawing a heavy breath, he lifted a foot and stepped up to the seventeenth rung and then glanced down at his cousins. I’ll just rest here a bit. Collect myself.

Then he wound an arm over the wood plank, and rested his chin on the elbow, studying the wall behind the ladder in the shadow. The wood smell was strong, and although they were in the middle of the morning, the loft was definitely gloomy. The rain ticked on the roof, adding a ceremonial drum rhythm.

Well, time to get this over with… he said to himself with another sigh, just as he noticed something on the wall behind the ladder—something odd, like writing—tiny, scratched letters. He shifted his head to one side to let more light reach the scribbles: KCJ—1978 and BLJ—1979, and then one other set: CAJ—1956.

Initials! The writing had to be initials! And they were his father’s and his uncle’s initials—from when they had been young!

But he was puzzled by the third set of initials. There were only the Ken-and-Ben brothers, so, who else could have climbed the ladder? In 1956? Years before their fathers’ initials?

Lukas nodded to himself—Great-Uncle Charlie. He was older than the cousins’ fathers—over twenty years older than his father, Ken. Great-Uncle Charlie, the railroader, had done the first Ladder Leap! His father and uncle and great-uncle had all done the Ladder Leap long before he and KC had been born!

His cousin thought he’d invented it, but he’d only given it a new name. He wasn’t the first to make a Ladder Leap, after all. Wait until he told KC—but, then Lukas frowned with a raised eyebrow, Well, maybe he’ll just have to find out for himself…

He smiled, but then scowled. Why didn’t I bring something to scratch my initials with?

The thought of climbing all the way down and all the way back up to the seventeenth rung, dragging the rope with him… And what if he changed his mind? What if he … chickened out?

But how could he make his mark? He needed to make his mark.

Everything okay, Luke? shouted KC.

Lukas glanced down at his cousins, once again thinking that KC almost NEVER called him ‘Luke’. Yeah, fine, I’m just thinking… Uh, I’ll be right down, or out, or … whatever.

Now or never, he said to himself and snorted a dang as he turned back to the writing on the wall, balancing himself on the rung.

But from his new position, he saw another group of letters scrawled to one side: Keep it secrit!—scratches indicated an attempt to alter the i to an e, but it was clear that the original spelling was secrit.

2

The Jungle Jump Secrit

An arrow pointed from Keep it secrit! to the edge of the plank where—wedged between the plank and the stud was—a nail!

Lukas plucked the nail from its crevice and holding it like a pencil, he hunched his shoulders over the rung.

What’s he DOING up there? hissed KC, before calling, Lukas, what are you DOING up there?

With his tongue between his lips, Lukas didn’t answer… He braced himself to scratch his own initials beside BLJ; he dated them, as well: LBJ—2007.

But before he wedged the nail back into its slot, he paused.

You okay, up there, Luke? called KC.

Fine, KC, fine, Lukas hollered over his shoulder. Just doing … a little more … editing.

"Editing? You’re going for a Ladder Leap record, and all of a sudden, you’re talking about editing? KC’s voice cracked. That is so excruciatingly strange, Luke."

Without answering, Lukas drew an x through secrit and wrote secret beside it. The letters showed light against the gray of the board. He inserted the nail back in its slot on the ladder.

"Lu-u-u-k…?" KC’s voice trailed off.

Lukas settled himself on his feet, wrapped his left leg around the rope and drew it to his body, clutching it with his left hand as he held onto the upper rung with his right. The knot was just below his left foot, and he kicked the rope, making sure it was free of the ladder. He shifted his right foot and faced out across the loft with his back to the wall, standing almost straight up—on the seventeenth rung.

He gave a last look over his shoulder. The freshly scratched initials—small and white —almost gleamed against the gray wall planks. Somehow, knowing that his father and Uncle Ben and Great-Uncle Charlie had made their Jungle Jumps before him gave him confidence.

Now, he was ready to fly across the loft.

Like an eagle, he thought. Soar. Like an eagle.

Uh oh. He’s getting ready. He’s going to do it, drifted up to him from below.

Lukas took a deep breath and went through the leap sequence he and KC had invented: firm grip on the rope with one hand; wrap one leg around the rope; let go of the rung and step off the ladder; grab the rope with the other hand— right away; wrap the other leg