THIRTEEN

The day began without any unique aspect to set it apart from any other day.  Alan and Ellie awakened to the usual chorus of birds, eliminating the need for an alarm clock.  After a quick shower and breakfast, Alan and Ellie went into the exercise room to work on Ellie's strength building, something that would become a morning ritual in an effort to heal her injured body as she hoped her work with Alan would heal her wounded spirit. 

In the four days since her arrival on the island, she had paid little attention to the large room at the end of the corridor, but she now observed it with great interest.  The exercise room was very well stocked with a variety of exercise equipment, exercise bikes, rowing equipment, steppers, treadmills, and free weights.  The free weights were stored on a wall rack for easy access, and the equipment placed throughout the room in groups of similar items. 

"Wow," she commented, impressed with the variety.  "They spared no expense on physical fitness, did they?"

"There seems to be no rhyme or reason to what they were willing to spend money on, and what they weren't," Alan said.  He was shaking his head at the contrasts that existed within the walls of the building.  "Corporate idiots.  Who can figure them out?"

Ellie couldn't suppress her smile of amusement.  It was a well-known fact that Alan did not get along well with corporate higher-ups.  She could well remember his boredom during occasional meetings of directors at the museum, and the frequent glances at his watch which revealed to all that he would much rather be anywhere else than in a board meeting.

"So, are we ready to begin?" he asked.

"Sure.  Tell me what to do," she suggested.  "Where's the best place to start for problems like mine?"

"Well, we'll have to start you off slow.  They're all pretty simple to use, but you have to be careful not to over-do, or you'll regret it in the morning." 

Alan had become an expert with all of the equipment in the room, toning up his physique without adding excess muscle, so he became Ellie's coach, instructing her on the use of each item and the repetitions to achieve the desired effect.  With her poor stamina, she was unable to maintain a high level of exertion for very long, so the session was terminated after less than a half hour of mildly strenuous work. 

"I'm sorry," she gasped, sinking onto a vinyl covered bench to rest. 

He smiled as he returned the weights to their place on the wall frame that stored them.  "Don't apologize.  You have to start slow and work up to it.  You're trying to do too much too fast."  When the last weight was in its place, he sat down beside her.  "You obviously had abdominal surgery after the accident," he said, bringing up the injuries that she would rather forget.  "I wish you had told me sooner.  I would have better understood your lack of endurance."

She stared at the floor, tiled in generic gray, an inexpensive floor covering favored by many businesses.  It was a stark contradiction to the expensive exercise equipment that filled the room and one of those corporate inconsistencies that Mark had defended as practical, but which never made much sense to Alan.  In his opinion, corporate managers tended to spend more money on things they wanted rather than things that were needed.  "I just wasn't ready to tell you, yet.  I was afraid . . . ."  Her voice trailed away, and she shrugged, still refusing to meet his gaze.

"Of what?" he prompted when she hesitated.

"It seems foolish now, but I thought you would look at me differently, knowing that I'm scarred."

There was humor in his voice as he said, "Ellie, do you know how many scars I have?  Too many to count!  I've been bumped, banged, cut, punctured, bruised, contused, and knocked unconscious so many times it's a wonder I still have my senses!"  He chuckled, amused with himself.  "Maybe I don't!  I'm on this island voluntarily, after all!"  The corners of her lips turned up in a smile, which was the response he was aiming for.  "Have my scars made you feel any differently toward me?"

"No, of course not.  I don't even notice them."

"Then why would you think I would feel differently about you?"

She shrugged.  "I don't know.  Like I said, it seems foolish now, but they say scars give a man character, but make a woman repulsive."

He placed his forefinger under the point of her chin, and lifted her face to look into her eyes.  He was smiling.  "Ellie, I could never find you repulsive, and I don't care about the scars.  I'm just glad you're okay.  That's the important thing."

His eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement, but they also reflected his sincerity, so she smiled and nodded.  Suspecting that he was about to ask about the surgery and the purpose for it, she quickly changed the subject.  "I'm rested now.  Why don't we get on with the research, since we didn't go out yesterday?"

He knew that the abrupt change of subject was deliberate, but he pursued it no farther, understanding that she would resist and become defensive if he tried to convince her to talk about it before she was ready.  Eventually, she would have to come to terms with her loss, but for now, she would have to move at her own pace.  "Okay.  I'd like to get back in the field today, but I promise we won't go as far as we did the other day."

"I feel like I'm holding you back," she lamented, regretfully.

He smiled.  Truthfully, she was holding him back from the lengthy expeditions he would normally have taken, but he would never admit it to her.  "There are plenty of animals to study in the area, and there are always things to do near the compound, so don't worry yourself about holding me back.  Eventually, you'll be able to go farther and farther from the compound.  We're not on a time frame here; we can stay as long as we want."

Surprise flickered in her eyes.  This was the first time he had indicated that he might not insist she return with Miguel when he made the supply drop in five more weeks.  He offered his hand, and she allowed him to assist her to her feet, and they left the exercise room together.

Returning to the foyer downstairs, Alan picked up his shock prod, removed his backpack from the coat rack, and prepared to pack it with the two video cameras, a 35mm snapshot camera, and bottles of water.

Ellie watched as he did this.  "Do you have an extra backpack?  There's no reason why I can't carry my own water and one of the cameras to relieve the load on you a bit."

He looked up.  "Are you sure you're up to it?"

"As long as you don't load me down too much, I'll be fine."

"Okay.  There's another backpack under the dresser in my cubical."

"I'll go get it."

While he stowed the cameras, extra film, and extra video tape, she trotted up the stairs and dropped onto her hands and knees to peer under his dresser.  Smiling at his habit of putting unused items out of the way by pushing them under the furniture, she reached under the dresser and withdrew the light tan canvas backpack.  Carrying it from his cubical, she unzipped it to verify that it was empty.

She stopped briefly in her own cubical to fetch a cloth handkerchief that she could use to wipe her face if she became sweaty, and as she turned back toward her door, her eyes fell upon the aerosol can of pepper spray that her mother had insisted she bring.  She had set it there when she had emptied her suitcase, and had never moved it.  If it worked on humans, might it not also work on dinosaurs?  Wondering why she hadn't thought of it sooner, she picked it up and placed it inside her backpack.  She hoped they would never need it, but if they did, they at least had another weapon that might be useful in defending themselves. 

Alan was waiting at the door as she came back down the stairs.  "I see you found it."

"Yup," she replied, reaching out for the camera and bottle of water that he extended toward her.  The water was room temperature, so there would be no condensation to dampen the backpack.

"Put the camera in the main compartment," he advised, "Put the bottle of water upright in the compartment on the front of it.  That way, it won't leak out after it's opened and damage the camera." 

She followed his instructions, inserting the small handheld camcorder into the main compartment with the pepper spray, and zipping up the bottle of water in the smaller front compartment, a compartment that had actually been made with that purpose in mind.  She slipped the pack onto her back.  "Ready."

He lifted his hat from the hat rack, and slapped it on his head, and they headed out again.

After securely locking the bars, he turned away from the building and his eyes swept the vast expanse of jungle that surrounded them, trying to decide which direction to go. 

"Well, when you're not looking for anything in particular, I guess one direction is as good as any other," he said at last.  His arm lifted toward the tree line straight ahead.  "We'll just start walking, and see if we stumble onto anything."

Walking side by side, they crossed the sunny yard, hiked up the shallow rise and entered the cooler shade of the jungle.  As before, Ellie watched Alan, his posture, his mannerisms, his expression, for any indication that a threat was lurking nearby, but he remained relaxed, and his smile was easy and pleasant each time they exchanged glances. 

Alan was aware that Ellie was looking to him for signs of danger, so he remained alert while maintaining a neutral expression.  The shock prod was carried in his hand, ready to defend them if needed, but as he listened carefully to the sounds of nature, he was aware of the activity of his feathered alarm system in the treetops.

Alternately walking and resting, they passed nearly an hour before Alan finally heard a low sound reverberating in the hot air that stopped him in his tracks.  Silently, he raised his hand, bringing Ellie to a halt.  Worried that he had sensed something dangerous, she crowded close.  "What is it?" she whispered.

His eyes searched the forest, pinpointing the location of the sound he had heard.  He pointed toward his right and grasped her hand, leading her quietly toward the remains of a huge tree that had fallen, blown over by a storm or felled by disease.  Its length had knocked down several other smaller trees as it had crashed to the earth, creating a large tangle of limbs and trunks.

As they approached the tree, Ellie spotted the small family group of Stegosauruses browsing in the large clearing on the other side.  She began to relax.  Alan had stated that he had obtained a great deal of footage of this particular species, but knowing that it would be interesting to Ellie, he decided to stop and watch them for awhile.

Crouching low, they positioned themselves behind the fallen tree amid the branches where they could safely observe the interaction among the family members.  It was a small unit, consisting of three adults, and two juveniles.  The larger of the two juveniles was about five feet high at the highest point of its spine, not including the armored plates that stood up on its back.  Bolder than its sibling, which remained near its parents, the young Stegosaurus moved slowly away from the adults, browsing on the tender saplings that sprouted from the forest floor.

"They all have their own personalities," Alan commented, keeping his voice low to avoid alarming the animals.  "Notice how the one stays close to the parents, while the other tends to stray."

After fifteen or twenty minutes of watching the group, Alan became aware that the normal sounds of the jungle were beginning to diminish.  Birds began to fall silent, and even the sounds of the forest insects died down.  The only sounds the paleontologist heard were the low vocalizations of the dinosaur family they were watching. 

Apparently unaware of any imminent peril, the young Stegosaurus continued to browse, its path taking it farther and farther from the adults.  One parent raised its head and uttered a cry, apparently a warning to stay close by, but the youngster ignored the call, as deliberately as human children frequently ignore their wiser parents, and the scientist knew that the juvenile's wandering nature would get it into trouble.

Ellie drew a breath, preparing to speak, but Alan raised his finger to his lips, a silent request that she remain quiet.  "I think a predator is entering the area," he whispered.

Her eyes were alarmed as she stared at him, worried that they were at risk.  Tearing her eyes from his face, she looked nervously behind her, half expecting to see a raptor creeping up on them from the rear.  She saw nothing except the trees and gently waving fronds.

"It will probably go after the juvenile," Alan told her.  He watched the juvenile until it disappeared through the brush.  Opening his backpack, he withdrew the camcorder.  "Ellie, you stay here.  I'm going to follow it.  With a little luck, maybe I can get some footage of the kill."

Ellie clutched at his arm.  "Alan, no!  It's too dangerous!" she hissed, urgently.

"I'll be all right.  I'll stay in the brush, and keep low."  He pointed a finger in her face for emphasis.  "You stay here.  Don't do anything to call attention to yourself.  And no matter what you hear, don't leave this spot.  You'll be safe here."

Ellie watched helplessly as Alan moved quietly after the young Stegosaurus.  Bent at the waist, he kept low, carefully and quietly pushing his way through the undergrowth in an effort to minimize his vulnerability.

The young Stegosaurus continued to advance farther away from the adults until it came upon a large open area, still oblivious to the danger that Alan knew was nearby.

He crouched down in a clump of ferns, making himself as small as possible and using the undergrowth for cover.  If he did not call attention to himself, it was likely that the predator would pass right by him, completely unaware of his presence.  As a precaution, he stood the shock prod on its end against a shrub for easy reach, then turned on the power on the video camera.  Then, he waited.

Abruptly, the Stegosaurus raised its tail in a defensive gesture as it twisted its head toward its rear.  Alan tensed again, realizing that the young animal had finally detected the presence of the predator.  As he listened, he could hear the sounds of a large animal approaching through the undergrowth.  Casting a quick glance at the shock prod that was still propped against the bush, assuring himself that it was within easy reach, Alan lifted the video camera to his eye and began to film.

A young Tyrannosaurus Rex emerged through the brush on Alan's left, stopping a few yards away to observe the other animal.  Like the Stegosaurus, it was a juvenile, standing about seven feet tall, larger than its prey. 

Because both animals were young, it would be interesting to see who would win the encounter, for a well-placed strike with the Stego's spikes could be just as lethal as the Rex's massive teeth.  Alan suspected that the Tyrannosaur had not been on its own long, and was therefore an inexperienced hunter. 

The Rex covered the ground that separated them with a few long strides.  It lacked the size to make the earth tremble, a characteristic of the full grown Tyrannosauruses, but its power was still impressive.

The Stegosaurus did not seem to know whether to run or fight.  It took several tentative steps toward the clearing in which its parents still browsed, but it seemed to realize that it could not divert its attention away from the Rex without making itself vulnerable, so it finally stopped and held its ground as the Rex approached, keeping its back end toward the predator.  Its spiked tail waved defensively at the other animal, and it uttered a mournful cry to alert the adults that it was in mortal danger.

In the larger clearing, Ellie heard the cry for help and watched as the three adults lifted their heads and turned toward the direction in which the youngster had gone.  Leaving one adult to protect the other youngster, the other two, presumably the parents, left the clearing to assist their errant baby. 

As the Rex neared, the young Stegosaur swung its tail, striking a solid blow against the predator's ribs.  Because of its youth, the blow was misplaced, and the spikes missed contacting flesh.  While not a lethal strike to the Tyrannosaur, it was still enough to throw it off balance.

The Rex staggered and nearly fell, but its smaller size provided more agility than would be seen in an adult Tyrannosaur, and it quickly recovered.  Opening its massive jaws, it uttered a loud roar of anger, and moved in again to attack the Stegosaurus from the other flank.  The young Stego uttered another desperate cry for help.

Bellowing with rage, the two adults, much larger than the young Rex, crashed through the brush, felling saplings and snapping low-growing branches.

The Rex heard the massive bodies crashing through the brush, and backed off a step, understanding that something much larger than itself was moving toward it.  The two adult Stegosauruses charged onto the scene and immediately positioned themselves to defend their young.  Having learned a valuable lesson in survival, the juvenile Stegosaurus sought safety behind its parents.

Still safely hidden among the ferns, Alan watched with fascination as the two adults sidestepped closer to the young Rex, their armored tails held aloft and ready to strike when they were within range.   The Stegosaurus had never been known for its intelligence, but what Alan was seeing was definitely an organized offensive, for one adult was slowly working its way to the left, the other to the right.  His excitement increased; this would be terrific footage.

To the young Rex, the two huge herbivores must have looked like the equivalent of an all-you-can-eat buffet, for it turned its head from side to side, looking first at one and then the other, as if trying to determine which one it should go after.  In its youth, it seemed oblivious to the fact that they were attempting to pin it between them.

Finally, it moved toward the larger of the two.  With a smile, Alan compared it to a child whose eyes were bigger than its stomach.  It was immediately apparent that the Rex had never encountered a Stegosaurus and its defenses, confirming his assumption that the young Tyrannosaur had only recently left the protection of its parents.

Opening its massive jaws, it uttered a loud roar as it moved in to attack the Stegosaurus from the flank.  The armored dinosaur stepped aside with its hind legs and the thick tail swung a glancing blow against the upper portion of the Rex's hind leg, knocking its legs from under it.  The Rex went down heavily on its side.

The other Stegosaurus quickly adjusted its position, and directed a forceful blow at the fallen Rex as the other animal struggled to rise.  Two of the spikes sank deep into the Tyrannosaur's back. 

The Rex screamed loudly in pain and rage, but as the Stegosaur withdrew, the Tyrannosaur managed to get its feet under it, and right itself.  It now understood that the Stegosaurus would not be an easy meal, and it prudently backed away as another strike fell short of contacting flesh.

The two adults continued to advance, determined to drive the killer from the area.  Conceding defeat, the Rex abruptly charged from the scene, its path of escape carrying it right through the ferns in which Alan was crouched!

Alan saw it coming, but there was no reaction time for him to get out of its way.  He barely had time to pull the camera from his eye before he was struck by the carnivore and sent hurtling through the air to land on his back, fully ten feet from where he had been kneeling.  The camera leaped from his hands and landed on the mossy ground. 

Startled that it had struck a living body, the Tyrannosaurus stopped to stare at him in confusion.

Alan instantly froze, but the damage was already done.  The movement had been enough to attract the attention of the Rex.  It had already pinpointed his location, and, lowering its head, it moved toward him.  While Alan watched in horror, it cocked its head, gazing toward him first through one eye and then the other. 

The two Stegosaurs did not pursue the defeated Rex.  With a roar of triumph, they turned toward the larger clearing, where the rest of the family waited.

Saliva dripped from the Rex's jaws as it circled the man, as if studying him to see if he had any of the defenses that his previous prey had used.  With vision that was based on movement, he knew the animal was having trouble actually seeing him as a living object, even though it knew he was there.  It was only a matter of time before it approached him.

Alan looked frantically for his shock prod.  In the turmoil, it had fallen over onto the ground, but remained well out of reach.  He had never used a shock prod against a Tyrannosaur, but was this one was young.  If he made a dash for it, he might be able to recover it and deliver enough of a shock to discourage an attack.  He scrambled forward.

 

The Rex seemed to realize that he was making an escape attempt.  With no apparent haste, as if understanding that it was superior in size and strength, it placed one three-toed foot on his leg, effectively pinning him to the ground.

"Aw, hell," Alan muttered as he stared into the face of death.

He made no attempt to struggle, recognizing the futility of such an attempt and the complete hopelessness of his situation.  There was simply no way he could fight himself free of a creature that outweighed him by hundreds of pounds.  His only chance was to try to recover the shock prod.  Twisting his body toward the direction of the weapon, he reached out as far as he could, but even though he had made significant progress toward it, it still remained tantalizingly out of reach of his groping fingers by less than five feet.

With a sinking heart, resigned to his fate, he turned back to face the Rex.  Images of Ellie flashed into his mind, reminding him of the curious conversation of the day before, when she had revealed to him the overwhelming premonition that had seen him in a life-threatening position.  Real or imagined, her premonition was coming true, but as he had predicted, there was nothing she could do to stop it.

She was still waiting for him behind the fallen tree.  When he did not return, she would soon start to worry about him, and would come looking for him.  She knew the direction he had taken, and would likely come upon him being devoured by the Rex.  It would not be a pleasant sight, and he winced as he imagined the horror she would experience.  For the next five weeks, she would be totally alone on the island, until Miguel returned for the regular supply drop.  It occurred to him that he had not even told her where the satellite telephone was kept.

The Rex's massive head moved closer, but, to Alan's surprise, it made no move to immediately kill him, and remarkably, it did not apply any more weight to his leg than was necessary to hold him down.  It turned its face from side to side, gazing at him through each eye, and reached out with its muzzle to nudge him.  It occurred to him that because of its young age, it had never seen a human before, and his scientist's mind watched through large, fascinated eyes as the animal pressed its muzzle against his side, apparently playing with him.  The head moved closer to his face, until it reached his cheek.  He felt the hard, leathery skin of its muzzle as it pressed against his face.  Its tongue snaked out of its mouth, sampling the texture of his skin.

"Oh, God," he groaned, shakily, grimacing as he drew his face back as far as he could, more terrified than he had ever been in his life.

Still hiding behind the fallen tree, Ellie saw the two adults and the juvenile return to the clearing.  Slowly, the family unit began to lumber away, apparently seeking a safer feeding ground.

She had heard the sounds of the animals engaged in battle, and had understood that the two herbivores were defending their young, but what of Alan?  He should have returned by now.  Nervously, she cast frequent glances in the direction Alan had taken, but there remained no sign of him.  With trembling fingers, she unzipped the backpack and withdrew the can of pepper spray, praying silently that it would be enough to stop an attack, if it came.

Cautiously, she rose to her feet and crept slowly toward the direction he had gone.  "Alan?" she called, her voice breaking the silence.

His head jerked toward the direction of her call, drawn by the sound of her voice, but he resisted the urge to call out to her, knowing that she would realize by the terror in his voice that he was in trouble, and would come to him in an effort to help.  He did not want her to witness his death, and he did not want her to be its next victim, a fact of certainty if she came too close.

Turning back to face the Rex again, he saw that it, too, had heard her call.  Still standing possessively over him, it had raised its head, and was listening attentively, trying to determine if she was another predator who was perhaps a threat to its meal.  Opening its jaws, it roared a challenge to the intruder.

Alan's stomach nearly heaved at the foul odor of the carnivore's breath, and he turned his face away, fighting the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.  He was vaguely aware that his leg was going numb from the animal's weight.

The sound of the Rex's roar stopped Ellie in her tracks, and she looked fearfully around her.  The animal's voice did not have the maturity or the intense level of forcefulness of an adult, so she quickly reasoned that it was young.  Drawing her breath in deep, panicked gasps, she hesitated, wondering what she should do, where she should go from here.  Common sense told her that she should flee before it spotted her, but she remained immobile.  Instinctively, she knew that the Rex was the reason Alan had not returned to the clearing.  Was he safe, hiding among the brush and fronds?  Had he not answered her call because he did not want to reveal his hiding place?  Or had the Rex found him?  The decision was made quickly; she ran in the direction of the Rex's roar.

"Alan!" she called, urgently. 

He could hear her crashing through the brush, and realized that she was running toward him. This time, he knew he must respond in an attempt to head her off.  "Ellie!  Go back!"  Even as he spoke the words, he feared she would not heed them.

As expected, she ignored his command and continued to run toward him, making a great deal of noise in her approach.  He wondered if she thought aggressiveness would spook the animal, and scare it off.

The idea seemed absurd until he felt the dinosaur flinch as its muscles tensed to either flee or fight, reminding him that it was a juvenile, a fact which made it susceptible to larger predators.  No doubt, the encounter with the Stegosauruses was still fresh in its mind, as well.  It seemed uncertain how to react to the as-yet unseen individual who was hurtling toward it, yet it was unwilling to abandon its meal to an unknown threat.

Ellie burst from the brush so abruptly that the Rex's muscles flinched again.  She did not hesitate at all, sizing up the situation on the run, reacting on pure adrenaline.  It was an adolescent.  This might work!  Without slowing her pace, she screamed, "Alan!  Cover your face!"

Alan did not know what she had in mind, but he had learned long ago to trust her.  Her aggressive pace indicated that she had a plan, and he did not pause to question what it could be.  Twisting his body to the right, he folded his arms across his face.

He heard the hiss of an aerosol spray can, then, to his astonishment, he heard the Rex scream in pain and rage, an ear-shattering roar that reverberated in the air around him.  Immediately, he felt the weight lift from his leg. 

Removing his arms cautiously from his face, he rose up on his elbow and watched in mute amazement as the dinosaur backed away several steps, shaking its head frantically back and forth.  Its tiny, useless forelimbs pawed the air, as if attempting to reach its face, but fell well short of their goal.

Free at last, Alan scrambled on hands and knees after the shock prod.

The Rex saw that he was escaping, and, still shaking its head in an attempt to relieve the burning in its eyes, it took several tentative steps toward him, intending to reclaim its dinner.

Alan's groping fingers found the prod, and he whirled around, adjusting the power to high, and thrust it into the animal's belly.  Both of them heard the buzz of electricity and smelled the aroma of burning flesh.  The young Rex screamed in pain and rage and backed away.  Confronted by two adversaries with equally painful weapons, it now possessed an understanding that meals would not always be easy to acquire.  Still shaking its head violently, it retreated into the safety of the jungle to nurse its injuries, and eventually it would search for easier prey.

Ellie watched the creature until it disappeared into the brush.  They could hear it crashing through the vegetation, and finally they heard one last mournful roar before silence fell upon the jungle.

Gasping for breath, she turned to the astonished man.  "Are you all right?"

Still seated on the ground, he nodded.  "Thanks to you."

Ellie knelt beside him and placed her soft hand on his forehead, smoothing back his hair in a comforting gesture, understanding the fright he had just suffered.  Her own heart was pounding with the reality of what she had just done.

"Do you realize that I just attacked a Tyrannosaurus Rex?  Its eyes will be burning for awhile, but it'll be all right."  She chuckled nervously, fighting her terror with an attempt at humor.  "It may need some therapy, though!  Being defeated twice in one day is bound to have an effect on its psychological well-being!"

He reached for the aerosol can and looked at the label, then raised his eyes curiously to her face.  "Pepper spray?"

"Industrial strength, as Mom puts it, the kind used by the police.  She insisted I bring it to protect me against any men who might have ill intentions while I was traveling down here.  I wasn't sure if it would work on a dinosaur or not, but I saw a cop use it on a dog once, so I figured it was worth a try."

He looked at her for several moments in silent wonder.  "You knew."

She nodded.  "As I told you yesterday, I can't explain it."   She shrugged, unable to adequately explain it.  "I think you and I must be -- I don't know -- connected, somehow."

"Whatever it is, I'm grateful.  As for the pepper spray, it didn't stop it completely, but it certainly set it back a bit.   It probably won't be very useful against a grown Rex, but we now have another effective weapon against the smaller predators."   In the aftermath of the most terrifying event he had ever experienced, the adrenaline rush faded, replaced with a feeling of total exhaustion.  He closed his eyes and bowed his head.  "Oh, God, Ellie.  I would be dead right now, if not for you."

Reaching out, she drew his unresisting body into her arms, and he was content to linger in her arms, seeking the comfort that she was offering.  She tightened her embrace, protectively, as if her arms could shelter him from further harm.  "I don't want to think about that," she said as she laid her cheek against the top of his head, and stroked his hair, soothingly.  "I don't think I could bear losing you, too."

Finally, Alan drew back, reminded of the constant danger they were in whenever they were away from the dormitory.  Seated on the ground, paying little attention to their surroundings, they were particularly vulnerable. 

"We're not safe, here," he reminded her.  "We'd better start back.  Would you get the camera?  It was knocked out of my hands." 

"Okay," she agreed.

She stood up first and retrieved the camera from the ground, checking it quickly for damage.  She blew a bit of moss from the lens casing.  "Looks like its okay," she announced.

Behind her, Alan struggled to rise on unsteady, rubbery legs that could not seem to support his weight.  Finally, he managed to pull himself to his feet and took several wobbly steps toward her, then his knees sagged and he sat down hard.

Turning back to him, she saw that he was having trouble getting up, and she extended a hand, offering assistance.  He did not hesitate.  Reaching up, he accepted her hand and allowed her to help him to his feet.  The left leg was beginning to tingle painfully as the blood began circulating again, and he grimaced as he attempted to bear weight on it.  Stumbling to the nearest tree, he leaned on it for support.

Ellie noticed immediately that he was favoring the leg.  "You're limping," she said with concern.  "Are you hurt?"

"The Rex pinned me down by stepping on my leg.  It was standing on me so long that it went numb.  The feeling is starting to come back, but I don't think it's injured."

She instantly knelt down beside him to examine the leg.  There were no tears in the fabric of his jeans and no blood stains, so she pulled up the pant leg and gripped his leg firmly with both hands, one at his shin, the other at his calf, feeling for fractures.  "Does this hurt?" she asked as her hands traveled slowly down the leg.

"It just tingles, and that's painful enough."

She nodded, gratefully, determining that he was physically unharmed.  "Somehow, you've managed to come through a T-Rex attack pretty much unscathed."  She pulled the pant leg back into place and stood up.  Realizing that he would have difficulty walking, she slipped her arm around his waist.  "Let me help you."

He nodded his acceptance, and placed his arm across her shoulders and leaned on her as he limped back to the compound.  In spite of her weakened physical condition, she somehow found the strength to support his weight.
                                                              ~~~

Alan's frame of mind was decidedly subdued following his near fatal encounter with the Rex.  He was restless, moving quietly from room to room, unable to sit down and relax, unable to concentrate on anything.  Ellie watched him with worried eyes as he moved from one place to another, but she remained silent, allowing him the space to deal with the after-effects in his own way.  He would talk to her about it when he was ready.  She was just grateful for whatever mysterious force had inspired her to come to the island, and thankful that she had not ignored it, as others had urged her to do.

Finally, he sought solitude on the roof to contemplate what had happened.

Ellie found him there, hours later, sitting on the railing, gazing out across the meadow toward the sun that was setting behind the distant mountains, lost in his own thoughts.  As she stood beneath the awning, observing him through worried eyes, she wondered if he was reliving the encounter, or if he was having doubts about his ability to protect himself.

She approached him.  "Hey," she said, softly.

He turned his head toward her.  "Hey," he replied.

She rubbed her hand on his upper arm, affectionately.  "Are you okay?"

He placed his hand over hers and managed a weak smile.  "Yeah, I'm fine."

They were silent for several minutes as Ellie observed him with worried eyes.  It was obvious that he was still shaken by what had happened.  "You want to talk about it?"

He sighed.  "I got careless, Ellie.  Over confident; the same damn thing I have condemned everyone else of doing.  That is something that can be fatal out there, and I nearly paid the price.  I knew there was a predator in the area, but I figured it was after the Stegosaurus.  I thought if I made myself invisible by blending into the brush, I would be safe.  I failed to consider the fact that nature is unpredictable, and things don't always go the way you expect.  Thank God it was a young one, or it would have been over in seconds."  He didn't have to explain further.  She knew the rest.  He drew a deep, shuddering breath, then added, "That was the closest I've ever come, Ellie.  If you hadn't been here ---"

She quickly placed her fingers on his lips, silencing him.  "Don't!  Please," she begged.  The thought was too painful to even contemplate.

He slipped his arm around her waist, drawing her against him.  "Ellie, I want you to know how much I appreciate your coming here for me.  I owe you so much.  I don't think I ever told you that."

Gazing intently at one another, blue eyes staring into blue eyes, both of them felt the intensity of their affection for the other.  Even though he had never been able to speak the words that Ellie had longed to hear, she seemed to understand the depths of his feelings for her.  With a smile, she gently caressed his cheek with her fingertips, her face less than a foot from his. 

His eyes dropped to her mouth, and his lips parted slightly as he started to move closer, wanting the kiss which had been denied for so long.  Receptive of his advance, Ellie tilted her head slightly, waiting for his lips to embrace hers for the first time in over five years.

But as he moved toward her, he realized that there would be ramifications in the form of temptations that would be difficult to resist.  Because he had come so close to death, their emotions were running high, and if he kissed her, he knew they would be caught in a tidewater of passion that could not be stopped.  There on the roof of the dormitory, in the fading sunlight, they would commit an act that they both would regret. 

Drawing a deep breath, he turned his face away at the last moment before their lips would have touched.  "I'd better go downstairs," he said, his voice husky as he rose from the railing.  Turning his back to her, he strode toward the steps and disappeared into the building.

Ellie's heart was pounding rapidly as she stared after him, realizing what had almost happened, but at that moment, she didn't know whether she loved him for his restraint, or hated.

 

FOURTEEN

With a startled gasp, Alan was jerked wide awake at the terrifying peak of a nightmare.  His eyes were wide and his heart pounded wildly as he leaped up on his elbows and stared at the gray walls of his cubical in the morning twilight as reality caught up with the lingering panic of the blood chilling nightmare.

He was safe in his bed, so he dropped back down on the mattress and drew a deep calming breath, then released it in a heavy sigh of relief.  Turning his head on the pillow, he gazed at the fabric wall that separated his cubical from Ellie's, listening intently for any indication that he had disturbed her, but he heard only silence.  His nightmare had not awakened her. 

He had passed a long and restless night, achieving sleep only a short while ago, but had been brutally yanked from that slumber by the horrifying image of the young Tyrannosaurus standing over him, preparing to claim him as its next meal as he lay helpless on the ground.

Lacing his fingers together behind his head, he gazed up at the pocked ceiling tiles and reflected on the events of the previous day.  Maybe Ellie was right.  Perhaps they were connected in some unique and mysterious way that could not be explained by scientific logic.  Whatever the motivation had been, she had somehow known that he was in serious trouble and had come nearly halfway around the world to save his life.

But what lay ahead for the two of them?  Both were now widowed, each suffering the tragic loss of someone they had loved.  His mother had firmly believed in fate, and had claimed that all things happen with a purpose.  He knew what her rationale would have been had she been there, and at that moment, he could not help but wonder if it was true:  Had he and Ellie been paired with the wrong partners in life?  Was that why her husband and his wife had been taken from them?

Unconvinced, he dismissed those thoughts as unlikely.  Although there were many mystifying things in the world that he did not understand, he did not believe in an outside influence on lives and relationships as staunchly as his mother.  Humans had free will, and Mark Degler had used that free will when he had driven his family through that intersection, just as the drunk had chosen to get behind the wheel of a vehicle while intoxicated.  Just as Alan Grant had elected not to go after Ellie when she had left him.

With additional sleep out of the question, he tossed back the sheet and stood up, discovering with some surprise that he was very stiff and sore from the encounter with the dinosaurs yesterday.  As he attempted to stretch away the stiffness from his back, he caught his reflection in the dresser mirror, and he leaned closer to examine himself.  The hollow of his shoulder, just below the clavicle, was bruised where the Tyrannosaur had struck him; noticeable, but not as severe as some contusions he had incurred.  Another faint contusion and the accompanying soreness on his lower leg marked where the Rex had stepped on him.  The minor injuries were a small price to pay for his carelessness.  He was just thankful to be alive.

His skin felt damp and clammy, a lingering result of the nightmare and the humid atmosphere.  Quietly, he opened his dresser drawer and retrieved a clean pair of folded jeans, and carried them down the hall to the lavatory.  He paused briefly at the linen closet for a towel, then went inside the bathroom to get cleaned up.

He usually hated having to bathe in water that had been sitting at room temperature, but this morning, the cool water actually felt rather good, cooling and soothing his bruises and muscle sprains even as the goose pimples popped out in chilled protest on his skin.  When his bath was completed, he dried himself on the towel, then wrapped it around his waist and tucked it into place as he exited the shower stall.

The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon when Ellie rolled sleepily from her bed and padded barefoot down the corridor to the lavatory.  With eyes that were only half open, she pushed the door open and started to enter, then stopped abruptly as her eyes widened, startled, to find it occupied.  Dressed only in his towel, Alan was combing his wet hair before the mirror, but when he heard the door open he turned toward her and one hand automatically went to his waist to verify that the towel was securely in place.

"Sorry," she mumbled as she politely averted her eyes.  "I should have knocked.  Sharing a bathroom is going to take some getting used to!"

"Payback for the time I walked in on you the other day," he acknowledged with a pleasant smile.

"Yeah," she agreed as she backed out the door.  "I'll come back later."  The door drifted closed behind her.

After she had gone, Alan stood quietly for several moments, leaning his hands on the Formica countertop that enclosed the wash basin as he gazed at the door, thinking about Ellie's comment.  After so many years apart, the prospect of sharing a bathroom was, indeed, going to take some getting used to.  It was becoming abundantly obvious that they would have to come up with a suitable method of alerting the other one that the lavatory was occupied, or else they were destined to eventually have an awkward encounter.

Turning back to the mirror, he finished combing his hair, then opened his shaving kit to complete his morning routine.

Ellie returned to her own cubical and sat down on the edge of her bed to await her turn in the bathroom.  As she waited, she could not help but think about the fact that he had nearly kissed her the evening before, a long awaited, much desired display of affection between them that had once been as easy and comfortable as a simple touch.  At the time, she had wanted that kiss desperately, but now, in the light of day, she was left with conflicting emotions as her heart pulled her in two different directions, a confusing game of tug-of-war between the memories of her husband and her affection for her past lover.

Rising from the bed, she went to the window and pressed her forehead against the cool iron bars to gaze out across the lawn, wondering how she had made such a tangled mess out of her life.  Had she not married Mark, he would most likely still be alive and probably happily married to someone who was more suited to his prominent social status, someone who would have been more comfortable dressed in glamorous outfits and dutifully adorning his arm at the business functions and government social-gatherings that she had hated.  But she would never have known those two beautiful children that had been hers for such a short time.  She would never regret a moment of their lives, but she certainly regretted her decision to leave Alan.  She had regretted that choice almost from the very beginning. 

She sighed, heavily.  Choices of the heart could be a very complicated matter, with many forks in the road.  It was up to each individual to make the right choices and take the correct path toward a fulfilling relationship.  Somewhere along that path, she had gotten lost.

"Bathroom's empty," said a voice from her doorway, jolting her from her reverie.

Turning toward the curtain that she had left open, she saw Alan leaning inside, dressed in his jeans, and she allowed her eyes to linger on his handsome face for several moments, mesmerized by his charming smile, before answering.  "Thanks."

He proceeded to his own cubical to finish dressing while she snatched up the clothing she intended to wear that day, and went down the hall to the bathroom.

Alan had seen the way Ellie had been staring out the window, and knew from her posture that she was confused and depressed, presumably about the kiss that had almost occurred between them; a kiss that would almost certainly have led to an even more intimate encounter, had he not brought it to a halt.

What were you thinking? the voice in his head sternly admonished.  She's only been a widow for three months!

He had seen the disappointment in her eyes when he had pulled away.  She had wanted it too, and he had no doubt that she would have been receptive to his advances, no matter how far those advances had led.  But it would have been for the wrong reasons, generated by the emotion of his near loss of life, and he knew that this morning they both would have been dealing with the ramifications of acting on those emotions.

He was confused about the intensity of those feelings as well, but he was uncertain what he should do about it.  They were growing comfortable with one another again, and it would have been so easy to have picked up their relationship where they had left off, but he knew it was too early in her widowhood to engage in a relationship that was so intimate.  In the five days that she had been there, he had seen progress in her demeanor; her smiles were more frequent and natural, the sadness in her expressive eyes was not so prominent, but he knew she had not yet come to terms, emotionally, with her loss.  Taking advantage of a grieving widow was simply not a part of his character.  Alone on the island together, he knew that temptation would arise again.  Eventually, they might even succumb to that temptation, but until she was ready to deal with the emotional baggage she carried, he was determined to resist.

After dressing in a comfortable shirt and his favorite work shoes, Alan went downstairs and put on a pot of coffee, still contemplating the fact that if Ellie had walked in just a few minutes earlier when he was in the shower or a few minutes later as he prepared to get dressed, she would have caught him in a complete state of undress.  If she had not walked in on him, he would eventually walk in on her.  Completely alone before her arrival, he had not faced this problem, but now he knew he needed to find a simple solution.

His first thought was simply to clean up the women's bathroom for her to use, but he quickly rejected that idea, for it would take days to make it useable.  It was in even worse shape than the men's room had been, since a broken window had allowed the weather to blow in a tremendous amount of debris.  He had boarded up the window to prevent additional accumulation, but it was not worth the time and effort spent trying to clean it up when they had a clean bathroom already functional.  No, the best solution was a sign on the door.

While the coffee was brewing in the coffee maker, he went down the hall to the office and looked through the supply cabinet, searching for something suitable with which to make his sign.  The previous crew of scientists had left behind a variety of office supplies, some of which he had actually found useful, and as he scanned the metal shelves, his eyes came to rest on a letter sized cardboard box holding a stack of InGen letterhead.

"Perfect," he muttered to himself as he lifted the useless letterhead from the box, and returned it to the shelf.  He was only interested in the white cardboard box.  Removing it from the shelf, he carried it back to the desk he had designated as his, and sat down in the comfortable chair.

He had found a pair of scissors in the middle drawer, so he withdrew them and used them to cut off the sides of the box, leaving just the flat bottom of approximately 8 x 12 inches.  Taking a black chisel-point marker, he wrote OCCUPIED on one side and VACANT on the other.  Then, he used a hole puncher to put a single hole in the top of the sign, and threaded a piece of nylon string through it and tied the ends together.  Locating a push pin, he went upstairs and pushed the pin into the door and hung his sign on it by the string.  Standing back to admire his work of art, he heard Ellie come up behind him as she emerged from the bedrooms. 

"So, what do you think?" he asked.  "I made a sign for us to use whenever we go into the bathroom.  Whenever we go inside, just turn it over so that it says OCCUPIED."  He flipped the sign over, demonstrating the lettering on the reverse side.  "That will alert us to the fact that the other is inside.  When we're finished, just turn it back over to the VACANT side."

She cocked her head, looking at the sign with its bold black letters, and nodded her approval.  "Good idea," she said, then smiled teasingly.  "It doesn't hang straight."

He adjusted the position, trying to get it to hang straight, but it always slid slightly down on one side.  "Well, it's a little hard to get the hole perfectly in the center," he admitted.  "And look, when it hangs crooked like that, it makes my handwriting look straight.  So, we have a choice; either the sign hangs crooked, or my handwriting hangs crooked."

She couldn't help smiling at his sense of humor.  "So, what do you want for breakfast?"

"I don't care.  Whatever you want will be fine."  They turned toward the stairs, and started down to the first level, walking side by side without touching.  "I'm not really that hungry, anyway."

"Alan, you barely ate anything yesterday," Ellie scolded, recalling his loss of appetite following the terrifying encounter with the Tyrannosaurus.  "You're bound to be hungry, so I'll fix anything you want."

"Cereal will be fine," he replied, then to the skeptical arch of her eyebrow, he added, "Really.  I like cereal."

They completed their walk down the stairs, and turned toward the kitchen.  Ellie was thinking about how different Alan was than Mark.  Her husband had insisted on a complete breakfast each morning, starting with a grapefruit half decorated in the center with a Maraschino cherry, followed by eggs, bacon and toast, or ham and hash browns, all of it prepared by the maid.  Pancakes and waffles were eaten only as a Sunday treat.  Cold cereal for breakfast was frowned upon as being too "lower class", even though little Charlie had loved Trix.  She had allowed the child to eat the usual breakfast cereals for lunch, when Mark was at work, and the maid had kept her secret.

Reaching the kitchen, Ellie moved to the pantry to look over the variety of cereal.  It was pretty well stocked with boxes of Shredded Wheat, Cocoa Puffs, Honeycomb, Raisin Bran, Chex, and Trix.  The sight of her son's favorite cereal brought a lump to her throat.  Quickly, she moved it out of sight behind the other cereal boxes.  Some had been opened, others were still sealed.  "What kind do you want?" she asked.

"I like 'em all.  Surprise me," he replied.

She selected the Raisin Bran.  "We've eaten a lot of fat and cholesterol the last few days," she explained.  "Maybe we'd both do better with something reasonably healthy for a change."

He fetched a couple of bowls from the cupboard, and they each poured their own preferred amount of cereal and milk.  After pouring their cups of coffee, they proceeded upstairs to the dining area on the roof, and sat down.

"So, what are we going to do today?" Ellie asked.

Seated near the railing, Alan's gaze wandered over the edge of the roof, falling upon the garden patch below them.  Many of his tomato stakes were leaning precariously at right angles, pushed over by the storm, and the tall stalks of corn had not faired any better.  "Well, actually I've been thinking that I need to get out in the garden and pick the vegetables and clean it up a bit.  I haven't been out there since before you got here last week, and things are a mess after that storm the other day."

She gazed at him with worried eyes, wondering if he was nervous about returning to the field following his close call the day before.  "You don't want to go out in the field?"

"We'll go out tomorrow."

She looked at him for a long moment, then asked, "Alan, are you uneasy about going out?"

He looked up, and she saw a flicker of annoyance in his eyes.  "Why would you think that?"

"Well, we missed going out the day before yesterday and your research was postponed yesterday because of the . . . because of what happened, so I figured you'd want to go out today."

"Ellie, I didn't go out every day, even before you arrived," he told her.  "I really do need to get into the garden or it will stop producing."  She continued to look at him, her eyes telling him that she was unconvinced about his motives.  He sighed.  "All right, if you want the truth, I'm pretty sore this morning, and I just don't feel like taking a hike through the woods.  I would rather relax in the garden for awhile, and then maybe take a nap.  I didn't sleep very well last night."

She looked up again, taking note of his weary eyes.  Just before she had fallen asleep, she had heard him tossing and turning on his bed.  Plus, it was not surprising that he would be suffering some muscle pain after the force with which he had been struck by the Rex.  "You do look tired," she said.

"I am tired," he admitted.  "Look, what happened yesterday with the Rex was just an unfortunate accident.  I've been over it in my mind a hundred times, and there is no way I could have foreseen the Rex knocking me down like that.  It's just one of those situations where the components all fell into place, and the worst almost happened.  It's not likely to ever happen again, and I'm not worried about it.  Okay?"

She nodded, satisfied.  "Okay."  Several moments passed, then she asked, "Do you need any help in the garden?  I used to help Dad."

He shrugged.  "Sure, if you want to."

"Okay.  First, I'll thaw out some hamburger meat, and we'll have stuffed peppers for supper."

His lips turned up in a pleased smile as he gazed at her across the table.  "I've really missed your wonderful cooking, Ellie.  Having you here preparing all these things I'd never have thought of is really a treat!  I bet Mark really loved your cooking."

Ellie's expression went suddenly blank as her mind's eye turned inward, recalling the fights she'd had with Mark over her desire to do some of the simple things she had enjoyed, ordinary things that he considered beneath their social status.  Alan had no way of knowing that cooking was one of the things her husband had not allowed her to do. 

"We had a maid," she said, shortly.  "She did the cooking."  Standing up abruptly, she gathered her bowl and her cup, and carried them back to the stairs, and disappeared through the doorway.  The tension left in her wake was so great that Alan suspected that had there been a regular door to pass through instead of the open trap door, she would have slammed it on her way back inside.

He stared after her, a curious niggling working its way into his mind, wondering if Ellie was upset over his mention of her late husband, or if it was something else, something about her marriage of which he was unaware.  Picking up his empty bowl and coffee cup, he followed her down to the kitchen, but paused in the doorway to observe her.

She stood quietly at the sink where she had just deposited her cereal bowl, and leaned her hands on the edge of the basin as she stared into it.  Her posture slumped, despondently, apparently overwhelmed by painful memories.

Alan's heart went out to her.  Moving into the kitchen, he placed his bowl in the sink with hers, then placed his arm around her in a comforting fashion.  He felt her stiffen briefly under his touch.  Recalling that she had rejected his attempts to comfort her that first day, he fully expected her to do so again. 

"It's okay, honey," he said, softly, urging her to allow him to console her. 

Surprised by the unexpected term of endearment, words of affection that had once passed between them as effortlessly as drawing a simple breath, she turned toward him and understood that he was offering the solace that she so desperately needed.  Succumbing to that need, she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder.  His hand moved slowly up and down her back, soothing her.

"Ellie, I'm sorry I was so careless.  I didn't mean to upset you."

"I shouldn't have snapped at you," she said, her cheek resting against the soft fabric of his shirt.  "It wasn't your fault.  Nothing that happened between Mark and me was your fault."

He absorbed the confirmation that something had been wrong in Ellie's marriage with a feeling of surprise.  During his brief visit, she had seemed so happy, and he had assumed that she had settled into her husband's upper class lifestyle with ease.  Obviously, she was concealing something from him. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

The only thing she wanted at that moment was to feel his arms around her, to savor this moment of physical contact.  "No.  I just want you to hold me for a few minutes."

He held her in his arms, waiting for her to break down completely, but that did not occur.  When she finally drew back, he saw with surprise that her eyes were dry.  Pulling away from him, she turned back toward the sink.

"I need to do the dishes."

"They can wait," he suggested.  "There are only two bowls, two cups, and two spoons.  We'll just be adding to them at lunchtime, so leave them.  The garden is sort of like my therapy.  Maybe it'll be good for you, too."

No longer in the mood to help him in the garden, she continued to gaze into the sink at the dirty dishes that would have immediately been washed by the maid back home; the maid Mark had insisted on hiring.  He would have gone straight through the roof if they had been left in the sink any longer than it took to run the water and add the detergent.  "I'm not sure I'll be of much help to you, Alan.  Maybe you'd better go on without me."

He observed her face for a long moment and understood that she was withdrawing into her depression again.  "Hey, you probably know more about gardening than I do," he said, cheerfully with an encouraging smile, a smile she had always found difficult to resist.  "Come on, it'll be good for you."

 

She would much rather have retreated to her cubicle to be alone with her grief, but he seemed to want her in the garden with him, so she nodded her reluctant agreement even as she chastised herself for the negative thoughts he was having about her husband.  Up until recently, her memories had been only of the good times they had shared, refusing to acknowledge that there had been bad times as well.  Now, against her will, they were coming back to her with startling frequency.  She tried to banish them from her mind, believing they diminished the value of her marriage, but with each one that was cast aside, another one slipped in to take its place.  Maybe it would make her feel better to be outside in the fresh air and sunshine.  Maybe it would give her an excuse to think about other things.

Unaware of the specifics of her emotional turmoil, he shoved his hand into his pocket as he walked toward the back door, and withdrew the key to the iron bars.  "You want to get that bucket for me?" he asked as he inserted the key in the lock and pushed the bars open.

She picked up the bucket that sat on its place on the drier, and followed him through the door, then waited while he closed and locked it again.

The discarded sheets that had been removed from her bed the day she had arrived were still lying where he had placed them in the shade behind the water barrel.  "I'm a little surprised they didn't blow away during the storm," he remarked as he returned the door key to the front pocket of his jeans. 

Ellie looked down at the pile of sheets.  Although the top layers had dried over the past couple of days, the ones underneath were still sopping wet and packed down from the weight of the water that had saturated them.

Reaching deeper into the denim trousers, Alan withdrew the pocket knife he carried, opened the sharp blade and gathered up the discarded sheets.  Sitting down on the stoop, he used the blade to start the rips in the soiled linen, and began tearing them into ragged foot-long strips.  Ellie set the bucket down, and assisted him in the ripping up of the sheets, understanding what he was going to use them for.  When they had a sizable pile of strips, they gathered them up and took them to the garden to tie up the tomato plants.

"Looks pretty beat up," Ellie said as she looked through the fence at the plants that grew there.

He had severely neglected his garden since Ellie's arrival, preferring the time spent with her over the private time spent among his fruit-bearing plants, but if the plants were to continue to produce the fresh vegetables he had grown to love, he knew he would have to tend to their needs.  "Yeah, most of it will be salvageable, though."

It was a beautiful, warm sunny day, without a cloud in the sky, a perfect day for being outside.  Pausing at the entrance to the garden, he pulled the shirttails from beneath his waistband and unbuttoned his shirt, then removed it and draped it over one of the posts which supported the fence that surrounded the garden.

Ellie watched as he did this, wishing it was not considered indecent for women to engage in the same practice of stripping down to the waist in public.  Even if it was an acceptable practice, she knew she would be unable to indulge, for her fair skin would blister, so she guessed it was just as well.  Alan was just the opposite.  Laboring in the sunshine in his garden, it was no wonder he had become tanned. 

As he turned toward her to open the gate, she saw the bruise that darkened the hollow of his shoulder.

"Alan, you're bruised," she told him, reaching out to gently touch the discolored skin.

"Yeah, I saw it when I got up this morning.  Must've been when the Rex hit me.  I've had worse."

Lifting the gate latch, he pulled it open and they entered the large area that had been cultivated by the scientists who had previously lived there.  It had taken a great deal of work on Alan's part to return the garden area to a useable condition, but he felt pride in a job well done, and his garden was healthy and productive.  When they were inside, he pulled the gate closed behind them and securely latched it.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, very much aware that this was his domain.

"Why don't you check out the squash and cucumbers, and see if any are ready to pick," he suggested.

Moving to the southern end of the garden, she waded into the tangle of vines that sprawled across the rich soil, stopping first at the squash plants heavily laden with yellow crook necked fruit, and began picking each one that was of suitable size.  Some had grown large and tough, so she tossed them onto the grassy ground at the edge of the garden to be discarded.  Unaccustomed to manual labor, she frequently had to pause to stand up straight to ease the stress on her back, and whenever she did, her eyes automatically sought out Alan, watching him as he worked, for this gardening interest was a side of him that she had never seen.

Moving slowly up and down each row, Alan inspected the tall stakes that had blown over in the storm the other day, reminding him of his neglect to what had become a cherished diversion from the rigors of scientific research.  He stood them upright and hammered them back into place with the mallet he kept close by for that purpose.  Next, he methodically tied up each of the tall vines, all of them sagging under the weight of the abundant fruit.  When that task was completed, he removed the ripened red fruit, many of them weighing more than a pound, and placed them in the bucket with the squash and cukes that Ellie had picked.

Next, they moved on to the peppers and the eggplants, removing the ripened fruit, and pulling up and discarding any plants that were too badly damaged to produce any longer.  Arranged in a tripod, the poles that supported the green beans had miraculously survived the storm.  The pods were thick on their vines, and Ellie picked them while Alan moved on to inspect the corn. 

The mature stalks of corn had not weathered the storm well, and many were leaning over.  Others had fallen completely.  Carefully, he righted the leaners and compressed the soil around their roots with his shoe to firm it up enough to support them.   The ones that had fallen were checked for ripened ears, then pulled up and tossed over the fence.  Briefly, he considered replanting, but it would take nearly four months for them to reach maturity, and he knew that his time of the island was nearing completion.  He and Ellie would likely be gone by then.  The smaller, waist high stalks had survived and would sustain them until they were ready to leave.

Huge gray-green watermelons were nestled in their patches of green leaves and vines, and Ellie's mouth watered at the thought of biting into one.  "Why don't we have a watermelon for dessert tonight?" she suggested.

"Sure."  Moving into the watermelon patch, Alan looked them over for a suitable candidate.  Selecting one that appeared ripe, he used his pocket knife to slice away the vine, then lifted the heavy melon and carried it to the grassy area beside the fence, where the rest of the picked vegetables had been placed.

Next, he took up the hoe and cleared away the weeds that had sprouted in the fertile soil, while Ellie raked them up and deposited them on his compost pile near the garden.
                                                                              ~~~

When they finally returned to the house, Ellie placed the bucket of vegetables on the countertop, and began unloading it while Alan lowered the heavy watermelon on the worktable.  The tomatoes were placed on an empty space on the counter top, the beans were dumped in one of the sinks to be washed, and the peppers and squash were placed in the vegetable drawer in the refrigerator. 

"Corn is best cooked right off the stalk," Ellie stated.  "We'll have corn and fresh green beans tonight along with those stuffed peppers.  You want the corn left on the cob, or off?"

"You used to make corn that was scraped off the cob and fried with butter -"

"Yes.  I can fix it that way, if you like."

She turned to the other sink and dumped the corn into it, thinking as she did that the work in the garden had been therapeutic, as Alan had claimed it would.  She felt much better, and the bad thoughts in her mind had been pushed aside to make room for the current tasks that required her attention.

Alan watched while she began the task of shucking the corn and removing the silks, marveling at the fact that she had somehow managed to stay clean, even after working in the garden.  He, on the other hand, was covered with dirt and grime from the plants, specifically the tomatoes, whose vines ejected a yellowish substance that clung to the skin, leaving yellow stains on his arms, back, and chest.

"I'm filthy," he told her.  "I'm going to go upstairs and get cleaned up."

"Okay," she replied, in a considerably better mood than she had been when they had gone outside hours earlier.  "Take your time.  I'll be shucking corn and snapping beans for quite a while."

"I'll come back down and help you after I get finished." 

"I'll take care of it," she told him.  "You just rest up.  Remember you said you wanted to take a nap."

Leaving the kitchen, he climbed the stairs and selected some clean clothes, and carried them into the bathroom, remembering to turn over the sign he had made.

For the second time that day, Alan subjected himself to a cold water bath, washing away the sweat and dirt he had accumulated during his morning in the garden.  After dressing once again, he took a couple of two gallon buckets up to the roof, and filled them with water from the rain barrels, then carried them down to the lavatory to replenish the water lost during his and Ellie's baths over the past few days.

When the barrel was full again, he stored the buckets under the small table that supported the small drug refrigerator, then went back downstairs.  Ellie was in the kitchen rummaging around in the pots and pans, searching for a suitable skillet in which to simmer the corn.  The cobs of corn, stripped of their husks and silks, were stacked on the countertop waiting to be scraped.  She would snap the beans after lunch.  The hamburger meat was thawing on the counter near the stove.  His stomach rumbled in eager anticipation of a favored meal that he had not enjoyed since Ellie had left him.

He glanced at the watch on his wrist:  Eleven thirty.  Almost lunch time.  Yawning with fatigue, he went into the front room and stretched out on the sofa to rest for a while before Ellie called him to lunch.  Within minutes, he was sound asleep.

At twelve o'clock, Ellie went looking for him to ask what he wanted for lunch.  She found him still on the sofa, facing away from the backrest, his arm folded under the throw pillow.

She smiled fondly as she knelt down beside the sofa to gently stroke away a lock of hair that had fallen across his eyes.  "Well, I guess it won't hurt you to miss lunch," she said, softly.  "You can make up for it at supper." 

Her eyes were filled with love as she watched him for several minutes.  Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against his forehead, then stood up and returned to the kitchen without waking him.