THIRTY THREE

 

 

Ellie slept very little after the nocturnal visit by the Spinosaurus, and suspected that most of the workers had not acquired much sleep either.  After she had laid down to try to rest, she could hear them stirring and turning over during the night, and she was constantly aware of Alan moving quietly around the clearing as he took his turn on guard duty, his watchful eyes and alert ears to the dark jungle.

 

Lying on her side, she watched him from her make-shift bed on the sandy ground as he patrolled just inside the perimeter of the camp.  He did not just sit still and listen, but walked the entire camp, stopping to listen every so often if he heard something that seemed out of the ordinary.  Every nerve, every muscle, was fully alert, watching and listening, analyzing every sound.  The chirping of crickets, the trilling of tree frogs, and the occasional call of a night bird indicated that all was well, yet he never allowed himself to lower his guard.  More than anyone else, he knew that everything could change in mere moments.

 

Ellie adored this man.  The sight of him had always made her heart leap with the pleasure of merely being in his presence.  Even before those sentiments had transformed into feelings of love, she had taken delight in spending time with him, watching him work, learning from his experience.  He had always offered new and interesting perspectives of the ancient creatures he studied and in turn taught others about.  The enthusiasm that he exhibited during lectures and demonstrations that caught the imagination of everyone in attendance, and she and every class of students he had taught soaked up his instruction like a sponge.  It had attracted her interest from the first moment she had had seen him, yet she was drawn to him in ways she could never explain, and as she observed him keeping watch over the camp, she knew that there could never be another man who would ever capture her heart in the way Alan Grant had.

 

With a sigh, she closed her eyes, trying to get some sleep, but she was too tense.  Unable to relax, she finally got up and made her way quietly through the maze of sleeping bags toward Alan.

 

Sensing the movement, he turned toward her and watched as she approached.  “Can’t sleep?” he asked.

 

“No.  I’m too keyed up.  Why don’t you try to rest a while?  I’ll take a turn.”

 

Alan was quiet for a moment.  Like her, he was tense, but it might do him some good to at least lie down for a while and try to rest.  “All right, but be extra cautious.  Something’s not right.”

 

Gooseflesh stood up on her arms and her heart beat a little faster at his disturbing warning.  Cocking her head slightly, she listened to the night creatures outside the camp.  “Everything sounds normal,” she said, bewildered.  Hadn’t he taught her to listen to the jungle creatures?  “They go silent when danger is near, right?”

 

“I know,” he replied.  “But listen; they sound different, somehow.”

 

She listened, carefully, but could detect nothing unusual in the way the creatures sounded.  Still, she had to respect his intuition.  “Maybe they’re just spooked,” she had offered, hopefully.

 

“Maybe.  Be extra careful, and stay away from the trees.  Just in case.”

 

With those cautionary words echoing in her mind, she took her turn at guard duty while Alan lay down to rest.  They did not dare light the fires again to help ward off the raptors for fear of attracting the attention of the Spinosaurus, so, per Alan’s instructions, she kept close to the protection of the bluff, as did the men who were trying to sleep.  Tensely, she watched the foliage at the edge of the clearing, listening carefully for the sounds of something passing through them, but all remained quiet.  Apparently there were no raptors in the area, or perhaps they were too nervous following the appearance of a much larger predator to show themselves.

 

Even though Alan lay still on his sleeping bag, she could tell that he was awake also.  Whenever she glanced his direction, she could see his eyes open watchfully in the moonlight.  Finally, after less than a half hour, he simply got up and joined her.  Together, they sat down on one of the many flat boulders that littered the area.

 

“Did you get any sleep at all after our ‘visitor’?” he asked, keeping his voice low just in case some of the others had managed to drift off.

 

“No.  Too keyed up,” she replied.

 

“Same here.”

 

“I was hoping we would never encounter that thing again.”

 

“Yeah, so was I.  I was afraid for a while that it was going to come right into the –“  He broke off suddenly, his attention directed toward the area just outside the camp where a cricket had been chirping and had suddenly fallen silent.

 

The hair stood up on the back of Ellie’s neck as they waited, listening.  After a long, tense moment, the sounds began again, and she heaved a sigh of relief.  Reminded of his earlier words, she asked, “What did you mean earlier when you said the night creatures sound different?”

 

He was quiet for a moment before answering, as if trying to think of a way to adequately explain what he had sensed in the typical night sounds that had made them seem abnormal.  “They sound less intense.  Instinct is still demanding that they continue their nightly rituals in search of a mate, yet they seem tentative, almost hesitant to do so, like they know something dangerous is nearby.”

 

The hair prickled on the back of her neck.  “Do you think the Spinosaurus is still in the area?”

 

He shrugged.  “Well, the crickets and tree frogs are chirping, so they must feel reasonably safe.  Maybe they’re just spooked, like you suggested, or perhaps they can sense distant impact tremors that we can’t feel.”

 

She smiled, teasingly and leaned into him with a mischievous bump of her shoulder.  “Maybe you’re the one who’s spooked.”

 

His lips turned up in a slight smile of acknowledgement, but there was something in his eyes that told her he was not in agreement with that assessment.  “Maybe.”

 

The cricket fell silent again, and they both turned toward it again.  Deeper in the jungle, a frog uttered one last croak and they heard the “plop” of it hopping into a nearby stream.  The eastern sky was growing lighter with the approaching sunrise, and the night sounds were simply winding down as the transition from night to day slowly progressed.

 

Alan began to relax.  Maybe I am just spooked, he thought.  “We have a lot to do today,” he said aloud.  “I want to finish this job today and get into those mountains before dark.”

 

“What do you think we’ll find in the mountains?” she asked, curiously.

 

“No idea.  There may be more animals; there may be no animals at all.  That’s what we’re going to find out.  I’ve been wanting to get up there ever since arriving on this island, but . . . “  His voice trailed, then he cleared his throat and added, “It’ll be better with you there to help out.”

 

She smiled to herself.  For all his easy words when it came to lectures, Alan sometimes had difficulty finding tender words to express his feelings for her, and she knew that this was one of those times.  She patted his thigh, affectionately.  “I’m glad I’ll be there to help out.  But now, what are we going to do about breakfast?  Everyone is going to be hungry, and I’m not sure we should try to cook anything.  The smell might entice the Spinosaurus back toward us.”

 

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.  It’s probably moved on by now, but just to be safe it might be wise to rustle up something cold.  I’ll see what Harding brought in that cooler.” 

 

Rising, he made his way to the cooler, which the veterinarian had placed against the bluff, and opened the lid.  Clearly it was one of Hammond’s “top of the line” items, because very little of the ice had started melting, and what melting had occurred had probably been caused by the occasional opening of the lid to retrieve its contents.  He began rummaging around in the food items that were kept there.

 

The men were beginning to stir, some turning over to try to capture a few more moments of sleep before being roused to begin their day, while other sat up yawning and dragging their fingers thought their hair in an attempt to drive back the drowsiness.

 

Mitch, still carrying his rifle, squatted down beside Ellie, startling her with his sudden appearance.  “So,” he said.  “Did you get much sleep after our unwelcome visitor last night?”

 

“No, not much,” she admitted.  “I finally just got up and took a turn standing guard, since I was getting tired of tossing and turning.”

 

“I didn’t sleep well, either.  Damn, that was the scariest thing I’ve ever been through.  It sounded huge!  Hearing it moving around in the jungle like that was worse than actually seeing it!”

 

“No, it wasn’t!” Ellie contradicted so quickly that her voice nearly overlapped his.  “You have no idea what that thing is like.  It’s the meanest, most terrifying creature I’ve ever seen!”

 

“You’ve actually seen it?”

 

“Seen it and been chased by it.”

 

Interest and respect flashed in his eyes.  “Really?  How did you get away from it?”

 

“Alan and I found a bunker that had been dug in the ground by the workers back when they were thinking of turning this place into a theme park.  We had to wait hours for it to get tired of trying to get in, and finally left.  Be glad it didn’t come into this camp.”

 

“If it had, I’d have taken it out with my automatic,” he said, hefting the rifle for emphasis.  After a moment, the confidence left his voice as he considered the size of the dinosaur and the unpredictable nature of the animals on the island.  “Or is it too big for bullets to make a difference?”

 

“Well placed bullets to the heart should take it down,” Alan said as he approached with Harding, carrying packages of cold salami and crackers.  “In fact, had it been daylight when it came, I would have been very happy for you to kill it.  But firing in the dark would have been a difficult shot that would probably have provoked it, and if you missed . . . Well, you don’t even want to think about that.  We’ll have to keep a sharp eye out while we finish tagging the pterosaurs.”  He nodded toward the rifle.  “And keep that thing handy at all times!”

 

“That goes without saying,” Mitch agreed.  His hands stroked the smooth wooden stock as he might stroke a favored pet.

 

Alan was studying the rifle with curiosity, noticing the magazine clip.  “You could probably blow a pretty good sized hole in it with that.”

 

Pleased that the paleontologist was expressing interest in his sharpshooting abilities and his equipment, Mitch passed the rifle to him for his inspection.  “This is my favorite rifle for bringing down large game.  If it comes close, I’ll take it down with a well placed shot to the heart.”

 

Clearly less than impressed by the boasting, Alan turned the rifle over in his hands, examining it carefully.  It was well oiled and obviously well cared for.  He did not remove the magazine clip.  “I’m not a hunter myself, but I have faced this animal before.  It’s the largest predator on the island, certainly larger than any beast you’ve ever encountered, and it’ll take a lot more than one shot to bring it down, so if it comes within range, keep pumping those bullets into it until it falls.”

 

Mitch nodded, eagerly.  “Will do.”

 

Alan passed the rifle back to him.  “Okay, we need to get everyone up, and get back to work.  I want to finish this project today.”

 

The sun was peeking over the horizon when Alan and Harding roused the men from their sleeping bags.  Apparently, toward morning, a few of them had managed to drift into a restful slumber, but all rose without too much complaint, and accepted the cold breakfast of salami and crackers.

 

As soon as they completed their breakfasts, the sun was up and they filed back onto the beach.  The first pteranodon was brought down quickly, and pulled in by the workers in the boats for collaring. 

 

Farther up the irregular shaped beach, where the land gradually curved back toward the ocean, a pair of large, slitted, yellow eyes peered from beneath the foliage that surrounded its resting place, observing the winged creatures and the smaller two legged creatures.  Its first instinct was to get up and take advantage of the easy breakfast a short distance away, but it was not yet hungry, having fed during the night.  What it really wanted was a mate, but its calls and its searches had failed to reveal another member of its species.  With a sigh, it rested its head on the sandy ground and closed its eyes again.

 

-()-

 

 

The morning progressed smoothly with no mishaps.  The incidents of the previous day had taught everyone to expect the unexpected, and everyone performed their jobs with care and efficiency.  Alan watched the workers throughout the morning, noticing the uneasy glances they cast at the jungle’s edge, and he knew they were eager to be away from the island.

 

With a little luck, they would finish the project that day, and he and Ellie would be in the mountains before nightfall.  Fondly, his eyes rested briefly on the woman who had so thoroughly captured his heart, and felt a flood of emotion.  She was smudged with dirt and her long hair was windblown, but she worked as hard as any of them and she had never looked more beautiful.

 

A half-dozen more pteranodons had been captured and collared during the morning, and it was getting close to noon.  His stomach was beginning to complain about being empty.  “After we collar this animal, we’ll break for lunch,” he announced.

 

The men nodded their understanding, and worked to transfer the beast from the water to the beach and secure it with ropes.

 

With smooth competence, Dr. Harding attached the collar around the neck of the drugged pteranodon, and stood back to check its function as Ellie and Alan measured the animal and recorded it in the notebook.

 

“All right,” Alan said, cheerfully.  “Let’s get this ugly bastard back in the air and have some lunch.”

 

Harding administered the antidote, and there were smiles all around as the ropes were untied from the beak, and the men stood back to watch as the groggy pteranodon staggered to its feet.  After resting for a few minutes, it launched itself into the air and struggled to gain altitude, flying down the beach parallel to the water’s edge as it sought to put distance between it and the humans who had attached the collar around its neck.

 

Suddenly, it gave an alarmed squawk and veered abruptly away from the trees, drawing the startled attention of the humans.  An instant later, they discovered the source of its distress.  With a tremendous roar, the most terrifying creature they had ever seen burst from the cover of the large trees, its massive jaws snapping at the startled pterosaur.  The earth trembled with each step, and the air seemed to reverberate from its roar.  Everyone froze and stared with slack jaws at the mighty Spinosaurus.

 

Flapping its wings desperately, the pteranodon began to gain altitude as it moved out across the water, and just managed to evade the enormous mouth.  Had it had a long tail, it probably would have been caught, but it was fortunate that it barely had any tail at all.  With water splashing as its huge driving legs plowed through the lapping waves, the Spinosaurus pursued several dozen yards into the water before stopping, where it stood for several moments, watching as its intended prey escaped.  It uttered one angry roar, then for a few moments there was silence as it stared out across the watery horizon.

 

The workers were frozen with fear.  Standing at the edge of the water, the waves gently rolling up over her feet, Ellie looked at Alan to see his reaction, wondering if they should run for cover.  Her breathing accelerated, realizing that there really was no cover for them to safely hide.

 

Alan observed the event with interest, his scientist’s mind making a mental note of the fact that the Spinosaurus was not disturbed in the least by the water, and knew that it was probably a good swimmer, as were most animals.  Its presence also explained the peculiar hesitation he had heard in the calls of the night creatures.  Even though it had not been on the hunt, they had known it was nearby.  With a slight shudder, he realized how close it had been all morning.  In all likelihood, it had bedded down just inside the treeline, and had probably been watching them all morning while they had tagged the pterosaurs.  Why it had not attacked before now was a mystery, but Alan assumed it probably had not been hungry until the passing pteranodon had been too tempting to resist.

 

As they watched with fascinated horror, the Spinosaurus turned its attention to them.  For several moments, it stood motionless, its tail swishing slowly back and forth just above the surface of the water.  It reminded Alan of a cat, waiting for a mouse to move before giving chase.

 

Harding edged quietly up beside Alan.  “Does it have the same visual acuity as the Rex?” he asked hopefully, keeping his voice low.

 

“Unfortunately, no,” Alan replied, quietly.  “Standing still won’t protect us from this beast.”

 

That was clearly not what Harding had hoped to hear, for he exhaled sharply, “That is one mean looking bastard.”

 

“Yeah, and now that its intended meal has escaped, it will probably see us as an easier catch.”  Without taking his eyes off the predator, Alan directed his question to Mitch.  “Can you hit it from this distance?”

 

Mitch did not respond, and Alan turned his head to find that the sharpshooter was paralyzed with fear and shock.  He was standing stock still, his jaw sagging in awe as he viewed the gigantic monster, the likes of which he had never expected to see.  It was a typical response that most people had upon seeing the prehistoric animals for the first time, but at that moment, it was a reaction that they could not afford.

 

Behind him, Cesar reacted in the same manner as many forms of prey would react to a large predator:  He turned and ran.  Following his lead, Garrett was also unable to keep his feet still, and he ran toward the rocks, apparently hoping to find a place to hide.

 

Their flight seemed to stir the dinosaur’s attack instinct.  Uttering a mighty roar, it moved up the bank toward them.

 

Tyrell took several apprehensive steps backward, casting uneasy glances toward Mitch, clearly wondering why he did not shoot.  Ernesto was frozen in place, like a deer in the headlights.

 

“Mitch!” Ellie’s shout rose above the splashing sounds made by the approaching dinosaur.  “Shoot it!”

 

“Shoot it!” Tyrell echoed.

 

When Mitch still did not move, and seemed totally oblivious to everything around him, Alan gave him a rough shove.  The shove pushed him off balance, forcing him to react to keep from falling, and finally brought him back to reality.  His head swiveled toward Alan in silent acknowledgement.  His eyes were wide, his face pale.

 

“Aim for the heart,” Alan instructed.

 

The paleontologist’s voice was strangely calm and authoritative, and had a calming effect on the sharpshooter.  Mitch turned quickly back to face the dinosaur that was charging toward them. Bringing his rifle into firing position, he sighted down the long barrel at the location where he believed the heart would be.  It was getting close!  Too close!  His hands and fingers were trembling, but he managed to get his finger into the trigger guard and squeezed the trigger.

 

Nothing happened.  For a heart stopping moment, he fumbled with the safety before finally releasing it, and he pressed the trigger again, this time ejecting a barrage of bullets across the animal’s chest.

 

Unprepared for the loud staccato reports, Alan cringed and covered his ears with his hands, but Mitch, more accustomed to them, did not seem to notice.  His entire focus was on the great beast in front of him, watching as the flesh was pelted with bullets.  Blood and bits of flesh sprayed from the dinosaur’s chest as each round found its mark. It roared in apparent pain and anger as the bullets ripped at its flesh, but there was no indication that the bullets were having any effect on it.  It continued forward like an out of control locomotive.  It was rapidly closing the distance between them, and Alan was growing concerned that it would reach them before the bullets could stop it.

 

“Keep shooting!” he instructed, shouting to be heard above the shots.

 

Withdrawing his hands from his ears, he took a firm grip on Mitch’s shoulder and pulled him backward, forcing him to begin backing up in an effort to keep some distance between them and the dinosaur.  The rifle shots continued to split the air with deafening noise that only seemed to agitate the Spinosaurus.  Spent shell casings ejected from the rifle, leaving a trail in the sand as they continued to retreat.

 

Ellie’s eyes darted apprehensively between Alan and the giant beast that was rapidly gaining on them.  She almost called out to him, to urge him to run, but held back.  She knew he would not leave Mitch, and her voice would distract him.  With a hand firmly clamped on the sharpshooter’s shoulder, he was physically guiding him backward as he continued to fire.

 

It was becoming apparent to Alan that the creature was finally beginning to slow, but it was less apparent to the others.  Ernesto had come out of his trance and apparently decided it would be prudent to join Cesar and Garrett in the cover of the boulders, for he began to run toward the camp.  Ellie, reluctant to leave Alan, moved back to place more distance between her and the Spinosaurus.

 

The loud reports of the rifle abruptly stopped, and Alan knew that the clip was empty.

 

“That’s it!” Mitch confirmed, yanking the clip from the rifle.  The Spinosaurus was almost on them.  “We’d better run for it!”

 

As he threw the empty clip aside, the Spinosaurus stumbled and staggered.  Its gigantic steps became smaller and were placed with less aggression until it stopped altogether, teetering and wobbling as it struggled to remain upright.  Blood was streaming down its torso from the gaping hole in its chest where Mitch had centered the bullets.  In anger and apparent confusion, it gave a low roar, and finally the great beast began to fall.  Alan and Mitch rushed out of the way as its mighty bulk collapsed onto the damp sand with an earth-shaking impact, its massive head landing right where the two men had been standing.

 

Then there was almost total silence.  Responding to the alarm cries from the intended victim, the sky had emptied of the pteranodons, which had retreated to the safety of their roosts.  For several moments the small group of humans was unable to move or react to what they had just witnessed.  The only noise was the sound of the waves rolling softly up on the sand.

 

Alan stared at the motionless creature, hardly able to believe that its reign of terror had been brought to an end.  He drew a deep breath and then exhaled, breaking the silence with a disbelieving, “Damn!”

 

“Is it dead?” Tyrell asked in a shaky voice as he moved closer to the paleontologist.  He was breathing as hard as if he had just run a marathon.  “Is it dead?” he asked again when his first query failed to bring a response.

 

“It must be,” Harding said.  “Nothing could survive that many bullets to the heart and lungs.”

 

“So, is someone gonna check to make sure?” Tyrell asked.  “I mean, we need to make sure, right?  Damn, that’s one big mother –”  He stopped and cast an apologetic glance at Ellie, but she did not seem to have heard.

 

For several moments, Mitch, Harding, and Tyrell looked at one another, as if waiting for someone else to make the gesture, then all three looked at Alan, deferring to him, the dinosaur expert.  The paleontologist never noticed the looks, for his attention was riveted on the motionless dinosaur, his eyes examining it carefully, searching for signs of life. 

 

Waves, rolling gently onto the shore, broke against the massive hulk before retreating, carrying with it swirls of red blood from the torn flesh.  Alan noticed that blood was also coming from the mouth and nose, suggesting fatal internal injuries.  If it wasn’t dead already, it soon would be.

 

Lifting his eyes from the carcass, he scanned the trees.  So far, there was no sign of any other meat-eater, but he knew that the smell of blood would soon bring every predator in the area.  If he was going to examine the body, it would have to be without delay.

 

Cautiously, he approached the huge corpse.  Its eyes were open and staring, but were already beginning to cloud over, and the long snout was open slightly, spilling blood into the surf.  The bullets had gouged a hole in the animal’s chest, and blood swirled in the water and puddled in the sand.  His eyes moved to the massive torso, paying particular attention to the fact that its sides were not moving in and out, indicating that it was no longer breathing.

 

“It’s dead,” he announced.

 

Mitch exhaled as sigh of relief, and raised his hand to wipe his sleeve across his sweating brow.  “I was afraid for a minute there that the bullets weren’t going to have any effect on it!”

 

Alan glanced at him briefly in silent agreement, but did not comment.  He had been thinking the same thing, but chose not to reveal those concerns.

 

“It took a lot longer to bring it down than I thought it would,” Harding admitted.  “Those bullets were probably like shooting needles at it in comparison to its size.  But anything that pierces the heart can cause death,” he added.  He approached behind Alan, his eyes examining the huge bulk that lay on the ground.  “Looks like every one of your shots were dead-on, Mitch.  Look at the size of that hole in its chest!”

 

Mitch placed his rifle in the crook of his arm, accepting the praise with a slight nod of acknowledgement.  He did not move closer to the beast, deciding that he could see it just fine from where he was.

 

Ellie moved past him, and he watched as the blonde haired scientist joined her colleague.  She was a unique woman, he decided.  Most women would have been repulsed by the sight of the bloodied monster lying at the edge of the water, but she approached it with obvious curiosity, her eyes examining the beast with studious interest.  The fact that she had not been frozen in fear was not overlooked by him, and he experienced a twinge of embarrassment at his own blatant terror.

 

“I can hardly believe it’s dead!” she exclaimed.  She moved closer to the head, observing the snout and the rows of long, sharp teeth.

 

Reaching out, Alan pressed his hand against the hard skin, something he never would have done had the creature been alive, noting that it was hard and pebbly, like the other dinosaurs he had touched.  Pulling his hand along the skin, as if stroking it, he made his way down the forearm to the claws and felt each one, observing the sharpness of the tips.  Noticing Ellie’s close proximity with its mouth, Alan cautioned, “Be careful.  I’ve seen some post-mortem reflex in other animals that can be stimulated by touch.”

 

“Okay,” she replied.   “Look at those teeth!”

 

Harding moved closer.  This was a new species to him, and he was as interested as she was in the characteristics of its head.  “Its mouth and teeth look a lot like that of a crocodile, only on a much larger scale.”

 

“I bet you’ve seen a few of those when you were in Africa,” she said.

 

“More than a few,” he replied.  “Fascinating creatures.  They lie in wait in the rivers during the migrations.  The herds know the crocs are there, but the need to migrate overrules their natural fear of crossing the rivers.  Instinct is a powerful force.”

 

“That it is,” Alan agreed.  “I’ve seen some migratory behavior on the island, and that’s why I’ve been so anxious to find a solution to the pteranodons.”  He glanced at the sky, observing that it was still completely empty, but he knew that would not last long.  Soon, it would be teaming with pterasaurs.  They would be the first predators on the scene, and they would be followed by other, possibly more dangerous, carnivores.  “I think we’re done here,” he said.  “You may as well radio for the helicopter.”

 

Mitch seemed surprised.  “We still have half a dozen collars.  Why are we quitting?”

 

“Starting within the hour and continuing over the course of the next few days, every predator in the area is going to be converging on this beach,” Alan told him.  “Best we be gone as quickly as possible.”

 

“But it’s going to take several hours for the chopper to get here,” Mitch objected.

 

“I know.”

 

Mitch was silent for a moment, then thought of another concern.  “What if the chopper comes while there are predators on the beach?  Will they be a danger to the aircraft or to us?”

 

Alan had already thought of that, and nodded affirmatively.  “Maybe; if they think we’re a threat to their meal.  They may also view the chopper as another predator trying to steal the meat.”  He looked up, studying the rocky cliffs.  It was impossible to determine from their position exactly how far the cliffs continued along the beach, but he knew it was the safest place for them to be.  “It would probably be a good idea to find an alternative landing position on the other side of that cliff.”

 

Mitch turned his head to look at the volcanic cliffs that rose up beyond their camping area, and immediately realized the problem there.  “That could be a long walk.”

 

“Could be,” Alan agreed in a preoccupied fashion.  He moved to the other side of the Spinosaurus to investigate the sail that ran down the creature’s back, determined to examine as much of the animal as possible before danger necessitated its abandonment.

 

“I’ll radio in for the chopper, and explain the situation,” Harding said.  “I’ll tell them to pick us up on the other side of the cliffs.”  Turning, he jogged back to camp.  Ernesto, Garrett, and Cesar were nowhere to be seen, suggesting that they had found suitable hiding places among the rocks and did not yet realize it was safe to emerge.

 

Mitch asked no more questions, but continued to look around in an alert, nervous fashion.  With the clip empty, he had placed the rifle against a boulder and picked up the tranquilizer gun.  Attentively, he watched the tree line, the tranquilizer gun at the ready, which he hoped would be enough to neutralize anything that presented danger to himself or the others.  Hopefully, none of the other predators were quite this big!

 

Harding returned a few minutes later and joined the paleontologist, who was inspecting the membrane of the sail and the spines that held it erect.  “The chopper will be here in a few hours.  Do you think we have that long?”

 

Alan shook his head.  “Not a chance.  With that gaping hole in its chest, the smell of blood is already drifting along the breeze and will no doubt be detected at any time.  I think we have a half hour at the most before the big carnivores start arriving.”

 

Harding’s eyes settled on the rocky precipice, examining its height and ruggedness.  It would take some time to reach the other side of those cliffs.  “Then we’d better start breaking camp.  We have a long walk.”

 

Alan produced the measuring tape, and he and Ellie continued their examination of the dead Spinosaurus.  Because of its huge size, it was necessary to measure it in sections, for even fully extended, the tape was not long enough to measure the creature from nose to tail tip.  The fact that it was the last of its kind was not lost on Alan, and he was determined to learn as much about it as possible.

 

Harding recognized the scientific mode that the paleontologist was in, and said, “I’ll have the men start gathering up the equipment.”  He looked up at the empty sky, then looked toward their roosting sites in the cliffs.  There was still no sign of the pterosaurs, but he knew that would change quickly.

 

He jogged back to the campsite, where the men were finally beginning to emerge from the hiding places they had managed to find in the rocks.  All of them moved cautiously, their eyes darting nervously about.  The two Costa Rican men were talking excitedly in Spanish, and Garrett looked dazed.  When they saw the veterinarian coming toward them, they moved toward him.

 

“Es Muerto?” Cesar asked, then remembered that Harding did not speak Spanish.  “Is dead, no?”

 

“What the hell was that thing?” Garrett asked.  “Was that the monster that we heard last night?”

 

“That was the Spinosaurus, and yes it’s the animal we heard during the night.  It’s dead, so we’re safe for the moment, but the smell of blood will attract other predators, so we need to start breaking camp.  Cesar and Ernesto, go bring in the rafts.  They’ll need to be deflated for transport.  Garrett, gather up the unused collars and make sure they’re stored in the carrier.”

 

The three men rushed out onto the beach to carry out their instructions, pausing briefly when they saw the huge carcass lying nearby.  Casting frequent glances at the beast, as if halfway expecting it to resurrect itself, they brought the inflatable boats onto the beach and began deflating them.  Harding followed with the box of tranquilizers.

 

Mitch was still standing guard, his eyes traveling up and down the tree line, searching for the first signs of approaching danger, but so far there was not unusual sounds and no sign of anything approaching through the dense foliage.

 

Only vaguely aware that the others were breaking camp, Alan and Ellie continued to examine the remains of the Spinosaurus, but their movements were hurried.  Alan was particularly frustrated with the time constraints, knowing that he could not risk the lives of the others, yet wanting to learn as much about the animal as possible.  With his pocket knife, he removed skin and flesh samples and placed them in small containers that he carried in his pack, carefully labeling each one with a black marker.  A piece of the sail membrane and the tip of one of the spines were also collected, and measurements of every part of its anatomy were taken as quickly as possible.

 

A haunting cry resonated in the air directly above them, and Alan and Ellie looked up to find that the pteranodons had taken to the sky again.  The winged beasts were calling to one another as they circled in much the same pattern as vultures.  They had spotted the carcass below, and obviously were coming in to investigate.

 

Alan sighed with regret.  “That’s it,” he said.  “The feeding frenzy is about to start.”

 

Moving quickly, they gathered up their supplies and backed away from the carcass.  As soon as they were clear, a large male pteranodon wearing one of the radio collars swooped in very low for a closer look before pulling up again.  The breeze generated by its huge wings rustled Alan and Ellie’s hair as they retreated to a safer position farther up the beach, where they could safely watch. 

 

The pterosaur glided gracefully out over the water, then circled back.  They could see its eyes observing the carcass, apparently searching for signs of life, and after circling over the trees, it finally landed on the sand behind the Spinosaurus.  From the air, circling lower and lower, the others watched as the male approached the carcass with caution.  A wave gently moved one of the lifeless forearms, and with its wings spread, it hopped back in alarm.  When there was no more movement, it approached again, targeting the softer flesh of the abdomen.  Within moments, the other pteranodons were on the beach, and the quarreling began as the creatures vied for the prime positions.

 

Fascinated by the frantic flurry of feeding pterasaurs, Alan rested his arm lightly across Ellie’s shoulder as they continued to watch.  The gesture of affection was not lost on Mitch, who stopped beside them.

 

“Why are they fighting over it?” he asked.  “It isn’t as though there weren’t enough for everyone.”

 

“Primal instinct,” Alan replied.  “They know they have to eat as much as they can as fast as they can because other carnivores will soon be arriving.  Unfortunately for them, they don’t have the thinking capacity to realize that their squabbles are wasting time.”

 

“I’ve known a few humans like that,” Mitch quipped.

 

Alan and Ellie both smiled.  “I think we all have,” Ellie replied.  “Still, it’s a sad end to a magnificent creature.”

 

“I thought you wanted it dead,” Mitch said, puzzled.

 

“We do; it’s just . . . “  She glanced at Alan, groping for the words to explain the curious sense of regret that it had come to such an end, while at the same time rejoicing that it was one less predator they had to worry about.  When he did not respond, she said, “It’s hard to explain.”

 

“I think I understand,” Mitch said.

 

Withdrawing his arm from Ellie’s shoulder, Alan turned his back on the feeding frenzy.  “We’d better get going.

 

They started walking back toward the camp, but halfway there Alan turned around to get one last view of the dead dinosaur.  It was now covered with pteranodons, some of them squabbling on the sand, some of them actually standing on the carcass as they fed.  With a heavy sigh, he turned to find that Ellie had already reached the camp, and he jogged to catch up.

 

“I have a favor to ask,” he said to Harding.  He held up the small containers.  “I took these samples from the Spinosaurus, but there is no way they will stay viable until I get back to the compound.  Will you keep them for me until we get back to the States?”

 

“I’d be happy to,” he replied.  “Just let me know where to send them when you get back.”

 

The samples were placed inside the ice chest, and they looked at the rest of the gear.  The sleeping bags, ice chest, inflatable boats, rifles, the carrying cases for the darts and the collars, and additional equipment was lying scattered around the campsite, a daunting amount of gear that had everyone wondering where to start.

 

“Why can’t we just leave this stuff?” Tyrell asked, saying aloud what some of the others had been thinking.

 

“As much as I would like to do just that, Hammond insists that we remove everything we brought,” Harding explained.  “The animals can be injured by litter that we leave behind, so it all goes.”

 

“Maybe Señior Hammond should come here and help us carry, no?” Ernesto said, resentfully.  “Is impossible to carry the boats very far, even deflated.”

 

“He’s right,” Garrett agreed.  “Those motors are just too heavy to carry for any distance, especially with all this other equipment.  There’s no way we can carry all this stuff.”

 

They all stopped working and looked at the boats.  They had been deflated and folded, but the motors and the wood bottoms presented a particular challenge when the packs were already overloaded with equipment.

 

Harding sighed, defeated.  “When we were planning this expedition, we didn’t count on having to switch locations for the return helicopter, so we didn’t bring any kind of transport device.”

 

“With this sandy soil, it would be impossible to pull anything with wheels, anyway,” Alan said.

 

Tyrell was looking at the two inflatables with a thoughtful frown on his dark brow.  “We could construct a travois out of the boats,” he suggested.  “They have solid bottoms, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.  We could make two of them by attaching the poles to the D-rings with the ropes and looping it behind the stern to hold it steady.  We’ll just pile everything inside the boats.”

 

“It might ruin the keel, being dragged like that,” Harding said.

 

“You got a better idea?” Tyrell challenged.

 

Harding shook his head.  “No, I don’t.”

 

Alan spoke up, “Obviously, we can’t carry it all at the same time by hand, so we’re either going to have to construct a travois, as Tyrell suggested, or else some of us are going to have to make two trips.”

 

“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter if the bottoms are damaged,” Harding said.  “The wood can be replaced.  All right; let’s see if we can find some poles and get this project underway.  The sooner we get on the other side of those cliffs, the safer we’ll be.”

 

They went a short distance into the jungle, searching for tree limbs or saplings that could be used as poles for the travois, and quickly found four suitable candidates.  They were cut and trimmed, and attached to the boats using the ropes.

 

As they were placing the rest of the equipment on the make-shift travois, Alan felt the first tremor of an approaching dinosaur.  Turning to Ellie, he found her looking back at him with unease in her eyes.

 

“What’s wrong?” Mitch asked, recognizing the concern on the faces of the two scientists.

 

His answer was a loud bellow, easily recognized by Alan, Ellie, and Hardin, as that of a Tyrannosaurus Rex.  The sharpshooter jumped and reached for his rifle as he turned toward the sound, bringing the empty weapon into firing position on reflex, then realized it was empty, and grabbed the tranquilizer gun again.

 

“What the hell was that?” Tyrell asked.  “I thought it was dead!”

 

“That isn’t a Spinosaurus,” Alan told him.  “It’s a T-Rex.”

 

“It didn’t take long for one to show up,” Ellie remarked.

 

“T-Rex?” Mitch asked, then comprehension suddenly settled in.  “You mean a Tyrannosaurus?”

 

The men looked around again, as if seeking another place to hide, but Alan was just the opposite.  His curiosity was too great, and he shrugged off Ellie’s restraining hand as he retrieved his camera from his pack and returned to the edge of the camping area to peer down the beach just as the Rex burst from the tree line.

 

It was a magnificent specimen, large and obviously in its prime.  With a mighty roar, it rushed toward the carcass, snapping at the pteranodons which were reluctant to leave their meal.  The squawking pterosaurs lifted a short distance into the air before settling back to the beach again.  They would have to wait until the Rex was finished, but there was plenty to go around.  Occasionally, a particularly bold one would inch forward, snatch a bit of meat from the ground, and then jump back.

 

Harding and Mitch crept up beside the paleontologist, curious to see the huge beast, but Ellie remained with the workers.  She had seen enough carnivores ripping a carcass to shreds.  Instead, she and the laborers continued gathering up the scattered supplies and placing them on the travois.

 

“It looks like it’s thriving,” Harding commented.  “Look how big and solid it is.  It’s even bigger than the big female we had on Isla Nublar.”

 

“They’re breeding freely, but few of the infants survive,” Alan told him.  “I’ve seen entire clutches of eggs decimated by compies and other small predators.  The parents are lucky if one infant survives the first month.”

 

“Nature is brutal, but I guess it’s a necessary part of population control.  Too many predators would annihilate the herds of herbivores, and eventually, in turn, the carnivores would starve.”

 

“Yeah,” Alan agreed.  “I’ve seen the same thing with the herbivores.  Few survive to adulthood, thereby preventing the island from becoming overpopulated.  One reason I came here was to see how the eco system was managing to remain stable.  Even with the pteranodons thrust into the mix, it’s still a healthy environment.  Unfortunately, they’ve pretty much wiped out the native species of animals.  I’ve seen no monkeys since I’ve been here, no peccaries, no sloths, or other animals that you’d expect to see on a tropical island.  Just some amphibians, reptiles, and birds.”

 

“Which are equipped with wings to escape, or ways to blend into their surroundings,” Harding concluded.

 

They fell silent for a few moments, observing the Rex as it tore huge chunks of flesh from the bones of the Spinosaurus.

 

“It sure got shortchanged on those tiny forearms,” Mitch said.  “What’s up with that, anyway?”

 

“That has been the question since the beginnings of paleontology,” Alan replied.  “Ever since the first Rex skeleton was found, we’ve puzzled about the explanation for such useless forearms.  They’re so small, they can’t even reach their own mouths with them.”

 

The great beast continued eating, and appeared to have no notion that it was being observed by the humans, giving Mitch a curious sense of security.  As a child, like many children, he had been fascinated by the Tyrannosaurus Rex, but had never expected to see one, so he looked at this one as if trying to memorize every detail.

 

Alan lifted the camera and adjusted the zoom lens, taking several shots.

 

Hearing the click of the shutter, Mitch glanced at him wistfully.  “Damn, I wish I had brought my camera!  Who do you think would win a fight between those two creatures?  The T-Rex or the other one?”

 

“I saw a fight between the Spino and a Rex last year.  The Spino won, but it was quite a battle.”  He lowered the camera and glanced at his watch.  “I think we’d better get going.  At the moment, it’s only one Rex, but that could change at any time.”

 

For several moments, no one moved, reluctant to look their last upon the great beast as it fed, but finally Alan took the initiative and led the way back to the camp.  The camera was tucked back into the pack, and he reached for one of the poles.

 

“We’ll have to double up,” he said.  “Two men per travois, and we’ll switch every fifteen minutes.”

 

Mitch picked up the other pole, and he and Alan led the way out of the camp, dragging the boat-travois behind them.  Harding and Tyrell took the other one, and the group of humans abandoned their camp.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

---

THIRTY FOUR

 

Without warning, the pole Mitch was pulling abruptly slipped out of his sweaty hands.  Alan winced as the other side of the travois unexpectedly dipped toward the ground, wrenching his arm.  Stressed by the sudden shift in weight, the other pole shuddered in Alan’s hand, threatening a wrist injury, so he released it and allowed it to drop.  Behind them, Harding and Tyrell also lowered their travois to the ground, grateful for the opportunity to take a breather.  They had not gone very far, but the wood bottoms of their makeshift travois dragging against the ground made the object seem heavier, and all of them were breathing hard from the exertion.  

 

The sharpshooter’s face was apologetic as he looked at Alan’s reproachful expression, and he rubbed his sweaty hands against his jeans to dry them.  “I’m sorry; it slipped out of my hand.”

 

Alan gave a slight nod, but did not reply, accepting the explanation as the truth.  His own hands were slick with sweat, making it difficult to maintain a firm grasp on the pole.  The air beneath the jungle canopy was growing thick and sultry, and seemed to press down on them oppressively.  There was no breeze at all; not a leaf or frond made any movement, and the still air seemed to drip moisture, signaling a weather change that only Alan recognized.  They were all drenched with sweat, their clothing sticking to their moist skin.  Raising his hand, he wiped his wrist across his brow, trying to get the stinging sweat out of his eyes. 

 

At the same time, Tyrell removed a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his forehead.  “This damn heat and humidity is awful!  It’s hotter here than it was in the open!”

 

“There’s no circulation in here,” Harding explained, his face was flushed from the heat and physical labor.   “Maybe we should stop and rest a spell.”

 

There were murmurs of approval from the others, but Alan’s eyes were scanning the dense vegetation that surrounded them, listening to sounds that the others tended to ignore, and he shook his head, negatively.  “We can’t stay here.”  He turned over his wrist to glance at his watch.  They had only been traveling for ten minutes, but the heat and humidity had made it seem much longer.

 

“Sorry, but I’m going to have to have a rest,” Tyrell said.

 

Alan noticed that the big black man was rubbing his bandaged arm.  “All right.  We’ll go ahead and change shifts, but we need to keep moving.  We’ll change every ten minutes instead of fifteen.”

 

There were soft sighs of disappointment, but the others did not question his words, nor did they protest the lack of rest.  His words were ominous, reminding them of the danger that they faced.  Ellie and Garrett stepped up to replace Alan and Mitch, while Ernesto and Cesar relieved Harding and Tyrell.

 

Alan glanced down at his hands as they resumed their walk through the jungle.  His palms were red and already were growing sore from pulling.  He flexed his fingers, working out the stiffness.  He was starting to agree with the laborers that it would have been much easier to have simply left the supplies behind.  But then his eyes fell upon the sacks of supplies that would be dropped along their return route from the mountains, items far too important to leave behind, and decided that they would simply have to continue as they were; changing pullers when each shift became too weary.

 

The four who now pulled the two travois were struggling with the makeshift transports.  His eyes settled on Ellie, who strained and sweated under the burden, determined to do her fair share.  Over the past weeks, she had recovered nicely from the injuries sustained in the accident and had regained most of the strength she had lost, but this was a task that was difficult for a man twice her size, as evidenced by Tyrell, who was the strongest among them and who looked as tired as Alan felt.  Ellie was leaning forward, pulling as hard as she could, and he regretted that there was not another worker to remove the burden from her.  But even if there was, he suspected that she would resent the implications.  She was just that kind of person; determined, with a stubborn streak a mile wide.

 

Less than ten minutes later, the pole slipped out of Ellie’s hands, and she stumbled off balance before recovering.  Furious at herself, she rubbed her sweaty palms against her jeans, but found that the jeans were damp as well, as was the clothing of everyone present.  She reached for the pole again, but Alan placed a restraining hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

 

“We’ll change pullers again,” he suggested.

 

“Has it been ten minutes yet?” she asked.

 

He glanced at his watch and saw that eight minutes had passed since the last change.  “Yes,” he lied.  It was close enough.

 

Even though she suspected that he was not being entirely truthful, she relinquished her pole to him and stepped back, flexing her hands and panting slightly from the exertion.  Her heart was pounding wildly and she was surprised to find her muscles trembling slightly.  Her head was throbbing in rhythm to her heart.

 

With a low groan, Garrett sank to the mossy ground.  “I don’t know about you guys, but I can’t go another step without resting for a spell.”

 

The two Costa Rican men needed no urging.  Following Garrett’s lead, they sat down beside him, and a moment later Harding joined them in their mutiny.  Giving Alan an apologetic shrug, he said, “If we keep pushing ourselves in this heat, we’ll collapse.  Better that we rest a few minutes before we proceed.”

 

Alan did not like stopping so near the fallen Spinosaurus, but he knew the veterinarian was right.  They were a long way from help if someone went down with heat stroke.  “All right.  We’ll take a breather.”  He opened the ice chest and found the bottles of water, which he passed around to the others.  “We’ll need to stay hydrated.”

 

Ellie accepted hers, uncapped it and took a long drink, then pressed the cold plastic bottle against her forehead as she closed her eyes.  Alan sat down next to her.

 

“Headache?” he asked.

 

Her eyes opened and she glanced at him with an affirmative nod.  “Is it that obvious?” she asked.  “It’s this infernal heat.  It never seemed this hot farther inland, or even out on the beach.”

 

“High humidity and no breeze make it feel much worse than it really is,” Alan said, opening his backpack.  He withdrew a bottle of aspirin and shook two onto her waiting palm.  “It’s going to rain,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

 

She did not ask him how he knew this; he just seemed to know these things, but Tyrell was sitting nearby and looked up, observing that the sun shining brightly through gaps in the canopy.  “Are you some kind of human barometer?”

 

This brought an amused smile.  “No.  I’ve just been here long enough to recognize the signs.”  He dragged his fingers through his lank brown hair, combing it back from his sweating face and watched while Ellie washed the aspirin down with a long drink from the bottle of water, then she set it aside, pulled her hair back in a pony tail and bound it with an elastic loop that she had withdrawn from her pocket.

 

A moment later, the sound of something moving through the nearby brush attracted their rapt attention.  Conversations immediately halted, and all eyes turned in the direction of the sounds.  There were no impact tremors, as there had been with the Spinosaurus, indicating that whatever it was, it was smaller, but the sound of it was ominous.

 

Several of the men cast anxious glances at Alan, gauging his reaction, but his expression was impossible to read.  Like the others, his eyes were on the jungle foliage in the general direction of the movement, but he was unable to see it.  He raised a finger to his lips, urging them silently not to advertise their presence, and they were only too happy to oblige. 

 

The sounds continued to advance in their general direction, unmistakable footsteps crunching the jungle litter on the ground and the snapping of small branches as the creature pushed its way through them.  Occasionally, they heard a rumbling snort as the animal tested the scent in the air.  Finally, they saw a brownish object moving through a gap in the foliage.  Alan’s sharp eyes glimpsed its features, noting the snout horn before it disappeared again.  It did not pause or hesitate, but seemed to be moving toward the beach and the direction of the dead Spinosaurus, lured by the smell that humans could not detect.

 

“Ceratosaurus,” Alan said quietly after the sounds had faded. 

 

“Dangerous?” Tyrell asked.

 

“Very.  Fortunately for us, it’s more interested in the smells coming from the beach.”

 

Garrett, who had been the first to sit down, was now the first to stand up.  “I don’t feel so tired any more.”  Looking around nervously, he added, “Maybe we’d better put some distance between us and them.”

 

By unspoken consent, everyone stood up, and Alan and Mitch took the first travois again and led the way.  They heard no more sounds in the jungle, but they occasionally heard a cry in the sky high above the treetops, indicating that the pteranodons were impatiently waiting for the larger creatures to feed.

 

The heat and humidity seemed to be getting worse, and the pullers tired more quickly this time, and after another ten minutes, they surrendered them to the next shift. 

 

Mitch walked beside the travois, looking at the palms of his hands.  Already, a couple of blisters were making an appearance, painful and red.  With a sigh, he flexed his hands to relieve the stiffness and mopped the sweat out of his eyes repeatedly, wishing for some kind of fan to help relieve the oppressive heat.

 

His eyes moved toward the jungle, which closed around them in an intimidating manner, concealing the wildlife from his eyes, and he wondered if he could find a palm leaf large enough to use as a fan to help move the air around his face.  He moved a short distance from the others, peering deeper into the jungle and looking high and low for something to serve his purpose.  He kept the others in sight at all times, but more and more trees and shrubs were between him and the others as he searched.  Several times, he found what seemed to be likely candidates, only to find them too flexible to utilize.

 

Walking on the other side of the travois, Alan noticed that the sharpshooter had moved a dozen yards or so from the group.  “I wouldn’t wander out too far,” he cautioned.

 

“Just looking for something I can use as a fan,” he explained.

 

“You’re setting yourself up as a target,” Alan told him.

 

“Predators go for the stragglers and wanderers, Mitch,” Harding reminded him.  “You’ve seen that in Africa as many times as I have.  Better stay close.”

 

Without warning, something skittered past Mitch’s ankles, causing him to jump involuntarily and in his anxiety he tripped over a clump of brush and fell onto the mossy ground.

 

Everyone stopped to look at him in surprise.  He scrambled to his feet again and quickly closed the gap between himself and the others.  When he was safely in their midst again, he looked around wildly, but whatever it was had vanished.  “Something brushed against my leg!” he exclaimed.

 

The others looked anxiously around, but there was nothing to be seen except the still foliage and his puzzled companions.  A few of them seemed a bit spooked, but Tyrell’s very white teeth flashed in a broad grin.

 

“Getting a bit jumpy there, Mitch?”

 

“I’m serious!” Mitch insisted.  “I felt something run past my leg!”

 

Alan did not join in the teasing.  “Probably a compy,” he said.

 

“A what?”

 

“It’s a small dinosaur.  Mostly, they’re scavengers, but they’ll take down game if they’re hungry.  They’re most likely heading for the carcass.  They’ll clean it up after the larger predators get finished with it.  They run in packs, so when you see one there’s likely --”

 

“There’s another one!” Garrett exclaimed, pointing as another greenish little creature scurried between him and the travois, inspiring the man to sidestep quickly away from it.  It glanced at them with a beady black eye as it ran past, but did not stop.

 

Moments later, the area was teaming with the agile little creatures.  With peculiar chirps and chittering sounds, they swarmed through the area bounding almost gracefully over the travois and detouring around the humans’ legs.  With curses and exclamations, the workers stepped from side to side, trying to avoid contact with the small dinosaurs.  Garrett tried to kick at one, but it skittered sideways out of range.

 

“Just stand still and let them pass,” Alan advised.  “They’re not interested in us.”

 

His calm voice and demeanor had a soothing effect on them, and they settled down, watching with fascination as the diminutive dinosaurs scurried away, disappearing into the jungle behind them.

 

“I didn’t know dinosaurs came that small,” Tyrell said as the last green tail disappeared through the foliage.  “They’re almost cute.  I should have caught one of them to take home as a pet for my boy.”

 

“You would have gotten yourself bitten,” Alan objected.  “They may be small, but they’re carnivores with sharp teeth that are capable of doing serious damage.  Get your boy a dog.  Wild animals are better left in the wild.”

 

His words were blunt, but Tyrell took no offense.  Alan Grant was, after all, the dinosaur expert.  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

 

“Let’s go,” Alan said.

 

They resumed their arduous trek through the foliage, keeping the boulders and black rocks that lay at the foot of the sloping ground behind the cliffs on their left.  After nearly an hour had passed, the trees finally began to thin and the soil became sandier as they neared the beach once again.  In the sandy ground, the make-shift travois were more difficult to pull, so the others joined in to pull it the last few dozen yards until they emerged into the sunlight.

 

By unspoken consent, everyone released the poles and allowed them to drop to the ground.  Rubbing sore arms and shoulders, they stepped into the open, expecting to feel a cooling breeze on their faces, but found that the breeze did not exist.  The air was calm and still, only marginally less sultry than it had been under the jungle canopy.

 

“Damn, it’s as hot and humid out here as it was in that jungle!” Tyrell swore.

 

“Well, at least we’re safe out here,” Garrett said as he brushed past him to find a shady spot at the foot of the cliff.  He dropped down in the sand and leaned back against one of the boulders.

 

“No place on this island is totally safe,” Alan told him.   His eyes examined the beach and scanned the air above the water for pteranodons, and could just make out a few of them out in the distance.  The beasts were apparently more interested in the activity on the other side of the cliffs.  “However, I think we’re safer here than we were on the other side.”

 

As he moved toward the boulders where Garrett sat flexing his sore hands, Tyrell looked up at the sky, which remained clear and blue, prompting him to say in a teasing fashion, “No sign of rain yet.”

 

“It’ll be here soon enough,” Alan said.  “The surf’s already getting rough.”

 

The others turned to look at the water, observing the waves that crashed noisily against the rocks and rolled up onto the beach in foamy breakers, driven ahead of the approaching storm.

 

Tyrell shrugged, then found a shady spot and sat down.  No one else commented.

 

Feeling safer out in the open and well away from the carcass of the Spinosaurus, the rest of them spread out to find shady areas beside the boulders to sit down and rest while they waited for the helicopter to pick them up.

 

Alan’s stomach rumbled, reminding him that they had missed lunch due to the appearance of the Spinosaurus, and he glanced at his watch to verify the time.  “Well, we’ve got some time to kill, so does anyone want a sandwich while we wait?”

 

Several of the men spoke up eagerly, and Mitch popped open the lid of the ice chest and reached inside for the sandwiches.

 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Harding said, drawing frowns and objections from the other men.  “If a storm is coming and we get caught in it on that helicopter  . . . well, a full stomach might not be a pleasant experience.  I think I’ll save it for a good meal at the hotel when we arrive.”

 

Mitch looked at the sandwich in his hand, and it suddenly did not look so appetizing.  With a sigh, he dropped it back into the chest and looked up to see if anyone else wanted one.  The other men shifted, clearly experiencing hunger, but no one stepped forward for a sandwich.

 

Harding noticed that Alan and Ellie were also hesitating.  “Since you two are staying on the island, feel free to go ahead.”

 

“We hate to eat in front of you,” Ellie objected.  “It doesn’t seem fair.”

 

“Shoot, we’re the ones who will be having a nice hot meal at the restaurant this evening,” Mitch told her.  “THAT doesn’t seem fair.”

 

“You know what I’d like to have?” Ellie asked.

 

“What?”

 

“A pizza.  Pepperoni, with lots of melted cheese.”  She sighed with longing.  “I can’t even remember the last time I had a pizza!”

 

Alan smiled.  “I’ll buy you a large pizza when we get back to the States.”

 

“You’ve been on this island for quite some time, Dr. Grant.  What do you miss the most?” Harding asked curiously.

 

Alan thought for a moment, then said wistfully, “Teaching.  Describing a new find to a class full of eager students, taking them onto the dig site to see it first hand, helping them piece together the fragments to identify the species.”

 

Ellie’s smile faltered, and her eyes became sympathetic.  The others were unaware that the paleontologist had been relieved of his tenure at the university, so she made no comment about that.  Instead, she said, “Alan’s a natural when it comes to teaching paleontology.”

 

Alan drew a deep breath and forced a smile.  “I suppose you were talking about food, though, weren’t you?  Ellie’s mother makes the best fried chicken you ever ate.”

 

“It’s an old family recipe,” Ellie explained.  “Mom gave me the recipe, but I think she left out some important ingredient, because mine never tastes quite like hers.  I’m sure she’ll make us some when we get home, and I’ll look over her shoulder while she’s doing it!”

 

“That’s often the way it is, isn’t it?” Harding asked.  “My sister’s mother in law has a wonderful recipe for orange spice cake, but whenever someone asks for the recipe, she omits some key ingredient that makes it special.  I never did understand why some people do that.  I mean, you don’t want the recipe to die out, right?”

 

“I think they do that to keep the exact recipe within the immediate family,” Ellie said.  “With Mom, it was probably an oversight that I never got around to asking her about.  She lives in Virginia, and Alan and I were always in Montana.”

 

Alan had closed the lid on the ice chest, but Harding suggested, “Why don’t you take some of the sandwiches with you?  We won’t be eating them, and they’ll just go to waste.”

 

“We’ll take a few,” Alan said.  “In this humidity, it won’t take long for the bread to start molding.”  He sat down in the shade beside Ellie, apparently deciding that it would not be right to eat in front of the others.

 

Ellie looked over at Tyrell, who sat on Harding’s left.  “How’s your arm?”

 

He glanced at the gauze she had wrapped around his arm.  It was a bit worse for wear from the intense heat and the work they had done tagging the pteranodons and dragging the travois through the jungle, but it was still in place.  “I hardly notice it, to be honest,” he replied.

 

“That bandage looks a bit tattered.  Maybe I should wrap it again.”

 

“Nah, that won’t be necessary,” he assured her.

 

“Well, be sure to get it looked at when you get back to the mainland.”

 

Tyrell smiled pleasantly.  “I think you two don’t trust me!”

 

“I just know how men are about getting injuries checked out,” she countered, tossing a knowing glance at Alan, who looked up and gave a lame shrug, knowing that her comment was a direct reference to him.

 

“I’ll make sure he does,” Harding promised.  “Hammond won’t like that there’s been another accident, but at least no one was killed this time.”

 

“Speaking of accidents!  Did you know about the body in the vault?” Ellie asked, drawing a sharp glance from Alan, who was clearly not yet ready to reveal their discovery.

 

Harding frowned.  “What body in what vault?”

 

Ellie gave Alan an apologetic shrug.  “Um, yeah, it –“

 

Alan interrupted.   They were committed now.  “One of the workers was killed by a raptor shortly before the island was abandoned.  His name escapes me at the moment, but according to MacFarland’s journal the killing was hushed up by Blake and some of his cohorts.”

 

“Gavin Shurley,” Ellie said.

 

“Shurley?” Harding repeated, his relaxed posture becoming more tense as he leaned forward.

 

“You knew him?” Alan asked.

 

“Yeah, I knew him.  Blake told us he had quit without giving notice and had left the island to parts unknown.  You’re telling me that was a lie?  That he was killed?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are you absolutely sure?”

 

“Positive.  Aside from MacFarland’s journal, which stated quite clearly that he was killed by a raptor, Ellie and I saw the body.  There were deep wounds on his abdomen, starting just below the sternum and going to just below the naval.  He probably died of massive internal hemorrhaging.  The body is still in the vault in the autopsy room.  Apparently, they planned on giving him a quiet burial in an unmarked grave out in the jungle, but the hurricane interrupted their plans.”

 

“Does the journal say how it happened?”

 

“A particularly clever raptor feigned illness to lure the workers into opening the cage, giving her an opportunity to escape.  Apparently Shurley was in her way.”

 

Harding’s face darkened with anger.  “We had a number of accidents, all of them costing time and money, and risked closing down the facility for good.  Many of the investors were getting jittery and the attorneys were nervous about lawsuits costing more money than the facility could afford.  I remember Blake saying during a meeting once that we had to do whatever was necessary to keep the project up and running.  Apparently, he was willing to take it beyond what is ethical.  I would very much like to see this journal.”

 

“We plan to present it to Hammond,” Alan said.  “We want to make sure the attorneys don’t get hold of it before he sees it, but before we do that I’d like to make some copies just in case someone tries to hush it up.”

 

“Wise move,” Harding agreed.  “I’d appreciate it if you would make an extra one for me.  I would be very interested in reading MacFarland’s thoughts.”  He shook his head, clearly troubled.  “I met Gavin several times whenever I was present to care for the animals.  He was always so professional, always taking the necessary precautions according to Muldoon’s orders.  I can’t believe he wouldn’t dart the animal before going into its cage.”

 

“According to the journal, it was because of administrative cutbacks,” Alan told him.  “Darts were expensive, so they were used sparingly, and it was decided that the animal was too sick to be dangerous.  Stupid people,” he added.  “Don’t they know that a lawsuit is much more expensive than taking the proper precautions?  Even Muldoon told us that the raptors should all be destroyed.  But those educated idiots in charge, who probably didn’t know a raptor from an Apatosaurus, were dictating policy from their fancy desks.”

 

Ellie could not keep from smiling.  “As you might notice, Alan doesn’t have much respect for upper management.”

 

Harding smiled in response.  “I don’t think too highly of them either, if you must know the truth.  Hammond would be the exception.  He isn’t going to like hearing about this cover-up.  He’s an excellent employer, one of the best men I’ve ever worked for, and I assure you he will see that restitution is made to Gavin’s family.”

 

“According to MacFarland, Gavin Shurley didn’t have any immediate family,” Ellie interjected.

 

Harding nodded, slowly.  “I wasn’t aware of that, but it doesn’t surprise me.  Many of the people who hired into this project had no immediate kin.”

 

“Because it was so dangerous?” she asked.

 

“No.  It was mostly because of the fact that they had to live here on the island.  There were no facilities available for families, and,” his eyes swept the landscape in emphasis.  “This was hardly the ideal location to bring a wife and kids.”

 

“Didn’t Hammond oversee what was happening on these islands?” Ellie asked.  “He seemed so proud of Jurassic Park, and I was under the impression that he spent a great deal of time there.”

 

“He did, but he’s getting up in years, and Site B, as Isla Sorna was called then, had not been developed as a theme park yet.  At Jurassic Park, he had a suite in the hotel that was his to use whenever he was there, but here there were no hotels or bungalows, so his visits were sparing and for only a day at a time, always leaving before dark.  He trusted Blake and MacFarland to take care of everything.”

 

“And they let him down,” Ellie concluded.

 

“Well, there were accidents on Isla Nublar too.  We all knew when we signed on that this was a high risk project, but there were too many foolish mistakes; mistakes that never should have happened.  Most of the mistakes did not have tragic consequences.  Unfortunately, some did, and with each incident, some of the investors and stockholders backed out, deciding it was too risky.  Hammond is wealthy, but it would have bankrupted him to venture into this project without some additional financial backing.  They were eagerly fighting for a place in line when he first announced this project of his.  Nothing like this had ever been attempted before, and they must have seen a long string of dollar signs when they looked ahead to the completed project, but some of them did a complete about face when people started dying.  After the accident at Jurassic Park, that finished it for most of them.  The few that stayed beefed up their staff of attorneys and advisors, and there were threats that one more accident would finish them.  Blake knew that.”

 

“And decided to cover it up,” Ellie concluded.

 

“That would be my guess.”

 

“That wasn’t his only cover-up, I’m afraid,” Alan said.  “There was also a maintenance worker who was carried off by the escaped raptor a day or two later.”

 

Harding looked considerably unsettled by this.  “Another one?”

 

“It’s mentioned in the journal, and I found a few human bones shortly after I arrived.”

 

Harding leaned back again and fell silent for several moments, looking at the two scientists thoughtfully.  Finally, he said, “Dr. Grant, Hammond invited me to spend a few days with him after we get back.  He wants a full report on the tagging process.  I know you intended to inform him of all this, but would you object if I bring this up while I’m there?  I don’t think this should wait any longer.”

 

Ellie turned to see Alan’s reaction, and found him looking back at the veterinarian with an expression that was totally unreadable.

 

Correctly interpreting his hesitation, Harding added, “I assure you, I will not be part of another cover-up.  I just think that Hammond should be advised of this development as soon as possible.  There is really little damage that can be done at this late date.  The park is shut down permanently, the investors and their attorneys are gone.  However, Hammond needs to find out if Blake is still on his payroll.  If not, he’ll need to track him down and get some answers about what happened here.”

 

Alan remained silent for several moments, clearly weighing in his mind the pros and cons of bringing this to Hammond’s attention via Harding.  “Very well,” he said at last.  “I’ll have copies of the journal made and send him the original when we get back.  I’ll also bring the bones of the maintenance worker for identification.  I don’t think the journal provided a name, but Hammond should be able to get a name from the personnel records, since it was claimed that he had quit around the same time as Shurley.”

 

“Sounds good,” Harding agreed.  “I would also be very interested in seeing your studies once you’ve published them.”

 

“I’ll send you a copy,” Alan offered.

 

“I’d appreciate that.”

 

Fifteen minutes later, they saw the dark speck of the InGen Corporate helicopter moving toward them, gradually growing larger.  It settled in the sand a short distance from the tree line, and to their surprise the side door opened and a familiar smiling man dressed in an equally familiar white suit emerged from it.  He carried a walking stick with the flare of a Scottish gentleman, and he looked a bit thinner and frailer than he had the last time they had seen him, but there was no mistaking his identity.

 

“Mr. Hammond!” Ellie exclaimed, genuinely pleased to see the aging eccentric who had dreamed up the concept of Jurassic Park and its inhabitants.  Dusting the sand from the seat of her jeans, she moved forward to greet him.  He made a move to embrace her, but she held back, explaining, “I’m filthy and sweaty.”

 

But John Hammond was not to be put off.  “Don’t worry about the clothes,” he said, cheerfully in his Scottish lilt, pulling her into his arms.  “Don’t give them a second thought.  So good to see you again, Doctor Sattler.  And you as well, Doctor Grant,” he added, offering his hand to Alan, who grasped it in a welcoming handshake.  “We saw a few of the Pteranodons during our approach, and I could see the collars on them.  Excellent idea; superb, in fact.  My crew was adequate, then?”

 

“More than adequate,” Alan told him.  “They’re an excellent team.  Mitch is a crack shot and everyone quickly found a routine that got the job done efficiently.  Unfortunately, we had to quit before we were quite finished.”  He explained what had happened with the Spinosaurus.

 

Hammond listened with a growing frown of concern for the safety of the crew and regret over the fate of the carnivore.  “Well, tragic that it was necessary to destroy it, but if there was no choice, then there was no choice.  Some of my geneticists complained about it being a particularly nasty creature to manage; very dangerous, they said.”

 

“I had several encounters with it,” Alan said.  “I can’t say I’m sorry it’s dead.”

 

“Well, it was the last of its kind,” Hammond reminded him.  “That makes it a bit tragic, but sometimes we must make sacrifices, don’t we?”  His smile returned, apparently dismissing the Spinosaurus from his mind.  “Well, we’d best start getting things loaded.  There is a storm brewing on the horizon, according to the weather reports, and it would be best if we were back to the mainland before it hits.”

 

Tyrell grinned his concession, and Mitch cast a rather admiring glance at Alan for having predicted it, but made no comment.  “All right, boys, let’s get this gear in the compartment.”

 

He and the four laborers began dismantling the travois and transferred the inflatables and the rest of the gear in the helicopter’s cargo hold.  Harding oversaw the storing of his own supplies, but Alan and Ellie lingered with Hammond.

 

Alan showed him the map of the island that he had brought with him from the compound.  “I’ve marked the sites where I want the supplies to be dropped,” he said as a reminder, just in case he had forgotten that they would be dropping him and Ellie off.

 

“That reminds me,” Hammond said.  Returning to the helicopter, he reached inside the passenger compartment and withdrew a couple of small boxes.  One of them was an ice chest, much smaller than the one Harding had brought.

 

“I thought perhaps you might be able to use this,” the aging gentleman said.  “It’s lightweight and contains a couple of those blue ice thingies that will keep several bottles of water cold for you.  I never can remember what those are called.  Anyway, it’s specially insulated by my manufacturers, so if care is taken to keep it closed, it will remain cold for five or six days.  I’m not sure how long you will be out in the bush, but hopefully it will provide you with cool drinks and help preserve anything you might want to keep.”

 

“Thank you,” Ellie said, accepting the gift.  “That was very thoughtful of you to think of us like that.”

 

But Hammond wasn’t finished yet.  “And when I heard that you two wanted to be dropped off in the mountains for additional investigation of the wildlife, I put my scientists to work on this.”  He presented Alan with another small box, this one the size of an old fashioned lunch box.  “Open it!” he said with the eagerness of a child.

 

Alan was not particularly pleased to be presented with additional items that must be carried with them during their hike, but he humored the old man.  He unlatched the box and flipped open the top to reveal a small control panel and eight small sensors.  He looked up at Hammond with a puzzled expression and a slight shrug, indicating that he had no idea what it was or what he was expected to do with it.

 

Hammond was almost bursting with enthusiasm, and chuckled delightedly at Alan’s lack of comprehension.  “That is a security device.  Simply attach these sensors to the trees around your camp, turn on the lasers, and if anything breaks the beam an alarm will sound on this panel!”  He pointed to eight tiny light bulbs on the control panel.  “Each of these bulbs corresponds with one of those sensors, enabling you to determine which beam was broken.  That will not only alert you to something approaching your camp and give you a chance to respond, it will also tell you which direction it is approaching!  Quite ingenious.”

 

Alan’s blue eyes lit up with interest as he lifted one of the sensors to examine it.  “How is it powered?”

 

“A battery pack.  It’s stored under the control panel.  With twelve hours of operation each night, they should last better than a week, but I included a couple of extra battery packs in the event that these are defective or in case you need the protection during the day for whatever reason.  And the sensors will transmit up to fifty yards, so you can place them far enough out to allow yourselves time to prepare for anything that breaks the beam.  It always pays to be prepared, correct?  I would test it each night when you set it up to make certain it is functioning properly, but it’s quite simple to operate.”

 

Alan replaced the sensor in its nest and as he looked appreciatively at the elderly gentleman, he could not help but feel impressed by the device.  “This will come in very handy.  I had no idea how we were going to get any sleep without one of us standing guard.  A half night of sleep for each of us was not going to help us stay alert.”

 

“Now you can sleep all night and not worry,” Hammond said, smiling happily.  “And it gives me piece of mind as well, knowing that it will help keep you both safe while you’re studying my creatures.”

 

“Thank you.”  Ellie leaned over to kiss his cheek.  “You’ve solved one of our biggest problems.”

 

He smiled happily, but before he could respond, Harding said, “Chopper’s loaded, and the pilot’s getting reports of the storm, so we need to get going.  Dr. Grant, we weren’t sure where to place your supplies; we thought you’d want to store them yourself.”

 

“Yes, I do,” Alan agreed, moving toward the helicopter.  “I’ll need to be closest to the door, so I’ll keep our gear close to me.”

 

“The helicopter’s going to be a mite crowded,” Hammond said as he and Ellie fell in step behind him.  “There are eight seats in the passenger compartment and there are nine of us.  I’m afraid I didn’t consider this when I decided to come along.  I was just so keen to see you both and deliver the security device that I’m afraid I failed to remember how many people I had hired for this job!”

 

There were a few nervous chuckles from the workers as they climbed into the aircraft one after the other and sat down on the eight cushioned seats arranged in three rows.  Ernesto and Cesar took the two rear seats.  Directly in front of them, Tyrell, Garrett, and Mitch sat down in the comfortable seats, leaving the three forward seats vacant.  Harding, Alan, and Ellie would take those.

 

“I’ll take the extra seat in the cockpit with the pilot, of course,” Hammond added.

 

“Will this vehicle be able to handle this much weight?” Harding asked as he took his seat, speaking the words that the others were reluctant to say, but their anxious faces indicated that they had been wondering the same thing.  “We have a lot of passengers and gear.”

 

“It’s one of the most powerful helicopters made; top of the line, and quite capable of handling the weight,” Hammond assured him.  “No worries there.”  Turning to Alan, he said, “I’ll show your map to the pilot and direct him where to place your supplies and where to let you off.”

 

With a nod of acknowledgement, Alan climbed in last with the plastic bags of food items he intended to drop along the way, which he placed on the floor.  Seizing the handle, he slid the door closed and sank into the vacant seat beside Ellie

 

Hammond climbed into the co-pilot’s seat and informed the pilot that they were ready, and the aircraft lifted slowly off the beach.

 

As they rose over the treetops, everyone leaned toward the windows in an attempt to see the beach on the other side of the cliffs, hoping for a glimpse of the activity they had left behind, but the cliffs were too high and the beach too distant.  Unaware of their interest, the pilot banked toward the mountains.

 

As they rose higher into the air, the darkening of the sky on the distant horizon, brightened by an occasional flash of lightning, became more evident, and generated some concern among the workers.

 

“I sure hope that holds off until we get back to the mainland,” Mitch commented behind Ellie.  “I sure would hate to get caught in the air when it hits!”

 

“The good thing is that it’s moving in from the west,” Alan said.  “Once you leave this island, you’ll be moving away from it.  Hopefully, you can stay ahead of it.”

 

“It’s going to be a rough ride if we can’t!” Harding said, then added, “Too bad this craft isn’t capable of high altitudes, or we could just get above it.  I imagine more than a few of us will be airsick!  Better see if we can find some buckets in the storage compartment!”

 

“Glad I won’t be with you,” Ellie laughed.

 

There were nervous chuckles from the workers, indicating that none of them found it very amusing.

 

Alan was barely listening to the banter behind him, preferring to keep an eye on the terrain below, searching for wildlife.  They sailed over broad sections of jungle and open meadows, but saw only a small group of five Parasaurolophus browsing in a clearing.  Ahead of them, the mountains were growing nearer.

 

After a while, the helicopter began to descend, indicating that they had reached the first of the drop-off locations notated on Alan’s map, and he grasped one of the sacks of packaged goods and bottled water.  When the aircraft was firmly on the ground, Alan slid the door open and stepped outside the crowded vehicle, feeling a bit like an item in an overly filled container being ejected forcibly.  Quickly, he looked around for a suitable place to stash the supplies.  It only took a moment to decide on the cavity between the buttress roots of a large tree, and he tucked the sack inside it where it would be semi-protected, and arranged several rocks over it to keep it in place.  Then he jogged back to the waiting helicopter, and they lifted into the air again.

 

As they progressed closer to the mountains, the terrain became more rugged, with rocky bluffs and outcroppings, and the helicopter settled down again near one of them.  Alan placed the next pack on a rocky ledge about five feet off the ground.

 

With their supplies in place, the helicopter’s next stop was a sloping grassy meadow deep in the mountainous region.  This time, he and Ellie took their remaining gear and climbed from the helicopter to begin their expedition.  Mitch moved into the seat Alan had vacated, and leaned out the door.

 

“It’s been nice meeting both of you,” he said.

 

Ellie extended her hand with a smile.  “Nice meeting you too.”

 

Alan shook his hand last.  “You did a good job out there.”

 

Mitch gave a nod of thanks.  “Take care, both of you,” the sharpshooter said, clearly wondering what it was that motivated the two scientists into making such a dangerous endeavor.

 

“We will.”

 

As Mitch closed the door, Hammond’s door opened and he emerged from the co-pilot’s seat with the map, which he presented to the two scientists.

 

“You both have a safe trip,” he said.  “I expect to hear from you when you get back.”

 

Ellie smiled.  “I’ll put you on the list of people to call,” she promised.

 

Hammond clearly wanted to linger, but the pilot was watching them anxiously from the cockpit, so he quickly embraced Ellie again and shook Alan’s hand.  “Well, I suppose if we’re going to outrun that storm, we’d best get a move-on!  I’d suggest you two try to find some shelter.  Looks like you’re going to get wet!”

 

The rotors powered up again as the elderly gentlemen climbed back inside, and the aircraft lifted into the sky and banked toward the mainland.  Alan and Ellie were alone once again.