The thundering triceratopses begin to fan out, trampling everything in their path. Whatever slim hope you had that they'd miss you is gone. You come to grips with the fact that there's no surefire way out of this one.
You can try to outrun the herd and reach Brett before they do. This might work if you're really brave and an expert driver, though you would be putting everything at risk. Then again, if you're more cautious and reasonably skilled at driving over rough terrain, you could speed away at a right angle from the direction of the stampede. If the herd doesn't give chase and Brett succeeds in swimming downstream, perhaps you two can rendezvous somewhere after the danger has passed.
You shake your head, tempted to crawl beneath the Land Rover and gamble that they won't smash into it—not a good idea, as it's hard to imagine how much of anything, yourself included, could come through intact. Besides, if something happens to you, Brett would be on her own to find safety as best she could.
Nonetheless, hiding does make sense as a last resort if an attempt to turn the herd fails. You consider firing live ammo or blanks. A superior marksman ought to be able to take down at least a couple of the lead beasts, maybe more, before they overtake your encampment, though there's no telling how the rest of the herd may react. Blanks seem less risky if you're not a good shot, given the likelihood that wounding one of those behemoths will further enrage it.
You make a decision and shout over the roar of the herd to tell Brett.