FIVE

Finally, with no other alternative, Miguel made the only decision he could. Turning his attention to Ellie, he said, "We will leave the supplies here for him in case he’s been delayed.  You wait here. If he hasn’t shown up by the time we’re finished unloading, you go back with us."

"No!" Ellie protested.  "He might need help!"

"And he might be dead!" Miguel retorted, the harshly abrupt words escaping his lips before he could stop them.

She looked away, a tortured expression on her face at the thought that she might have arrived too late.

Seeing her distress, he placed a comforting hand on her arm.  "I no mean to upset you, Señora, but we cannot leave you here by yourself!  You understand."

She returned her eyes to his face, imploringly.  "We could look for him. Do you know where he’s been living?"

"No. I go no farther than the landing strip."

"Please!" she implored.  "He can’t be far! If you don’t want to help, then wait for me while I look!"

He shook his head, firmly. "This island, she is dangerous place to be.  Even sitting on the landing strip, we are in constant danger.  I have family, Señora.  I only agree to make these deliveries because Señor Grant, he pay good." Turning away from her, he spoke several words in Spanish to Eustacio.

The two men went to the rear of the plane and each lifted a box, which was carried down the steps and placed at the edge of the landing strip.  Then, they returned for more boxes.

While Miguel and Eustacio worked to unload the boxes of supplies, Ellie went down the steps to the landing strip and stood on the hot asphalt beside the plane.  Her attention was riveted on the treeline, scanning the edge of the forest in desperation, searching for any sign of human life.

The flora was the tropical plants typical of the Central American region. Ferns, palms, and a host of other native trees and shrubs crowded close together at the edge of the meadow.  Creeper decorated the jungle canopy in a spider-web pattern of thick, ropy vines. It was an eerie place; a perfect setting for the ancient creatures that lived there. It was a place straight out of her most horrifying nightmares.

Finally, just as Miguel placed the final box on top of the stack of supplies, Ellie saw a shadow of movement just inside the treeline, and a figure emerged into the sunlight, wearing the familiar fedora hat that was as much a part of him as the fossils he studied.

Ellie released the breath she had been holding in a heavy exhalation of immense relief.  "Thank God," she breathed.

She was embraced by a sensation of warmth as Dr. Alan Grant, unaware of her presence, approached Miguel and extended his hand for a friendly handshake.  "How are you, Miguel?" she heard him ask.

"Well, Señor. You are late," Miguel replied. "We were getting worried."

"Actually, you’re early," Alan contradicted with a pleasant smile.

Miguel withdrew his watch from his pocket to verify that fact, then nodded in agreement.  "We made good time."

"Let’s see what you’ve got," Alan said as he approached the stacks of boxes, to begin examining the contents, as was his habit before bestowing payment.

Miguel was not offended by this.  He understood that Alan’s existence depended on the accuracy of his shipments, and Miguel probably would have done the same had the situation been reversed.  Of course, Miguel thought with a smile, I would not be living on this island!

Alan glanced up at him, squinting in the sun’s glare. "There are a lot of boxes here."

"Si´, Señor.  All necessary."

Skeptically, Alan returned to the task of examining the contents. Mostly, the boxes contained heat-and-serve canned goods, soup, bottled water, coffee, loaves of bread, and other foodstuffs necessary to sustain life. In addition to the food items were ink pens, paper tablets, razor blades, microscope slides and other items he desired to make his life on the island easier and more comfortable, or to aid his research and record-keeping. The only thing that seemed out of place was that the quantities were far greater than he had requested.

He looked up at the Costa Rican again. "Miguel, this appears to be about twice the amounts I requested."

Miguel cast a quick glance at Ellie, who was making her way toward them. "Si´, well, there is a reason for that, Señor."

Alan frowned at the Hispanic man‘s ambiguous responses.  "What are you talking about?"

"Well, you’ve been here on this island all alone for a long time, so I bring you a special present."  With a sly wink, he nudged Alan in the ribs with his elbow. "Something to keep you company while you’re here, eh?"

Alan’s puzzled expression indicated he was not comprehending the other man’s vague words.  Skeptically, he flipped open the lid of the ice chest that held the perishables nestled in a bed of ice cubes.  In addition to the two cartons of milk, the tub of butter, the packages of lunchmeat and the cheese he had asked for, he saw a large plastic bag that protected several items wrapped in white butcher paper.  He knew they probably contained cuts of meat, items he had not requested.
Looking up again, he said, "Miguel, I didn’t ask for these."

Miguel made a broad sweep of his hand, as if brushing away the subject.  "They’re paid for, Señor Grant. May as well enjoy."

"Paid for?" he asked, closing the lid again.  "Who paid for them?"

"I did," replied a familiar feminine voice.

Alan froze briefly, recognizing the voice, then turned toward her as she approached him.

A quick intake of breath indicated she was just about the last person on earth he had expected to see on that south sea island, but his inner reaction surprised even him.  At the initial sight of her, he felt his heart leap with joy.  Then the delight of seeing her there quickly faded, replaced by cold fear inspired by the knowledge that as long as she was there, she was in danger.

As he gazed at her, he sensed a change in her since the last time he had seen her.  She was still beautiful, but the impish smile and playful eyes that were so much a part of her personality had diminished, leaving something very different in her, a definite lack of luster, a loss of enthusiasm.  She appeared tired and defeated.

Ellie stopped before him, a slight smile on her lips as she observed his physical appearance.  Still ruggedly handsome, he was lean and tanned from the rough life he was leading.  He had kept himself clean-shaven, but he obviously had not cut his hair since he had left the United States; indeed, probably even before that, for his lank brown locks that protruded from beneath the hat were longer than she had ever seen them.  He was dressed in his usual attire of blue jeans, work shoes, and a work shirt.  She noticed instantly that he carried an electrified shock prod in a loop attached to his belt.

"Ellie, what are you doing here?" he asked with an impatient edge to his voice.

Ellie tried not to be offended by his question.  She had anticipated his anger, but even so, she felt a twinge of hurt, which she managed to cover with sarcasm.  "I might ask you the same," she responded.  "I seem to recall you saying you never intended to come back here."

He glared at her for several moments, during which time Miguel very quietly slipped away, unnoticed.  "This isn’t a game, Ellie," he said at last.  "You know this island isn’t safe."

"So do you, yet from what I understand, you’ve spent nearly seven months here."

He was surprised by her comment.  "I asked Mark not to tell you ---"

Ellie flinched almost imperceptibly.  "Mark didn’t tell me.  How I found out isn’t important. I’m here, and I’m going to help you with your research."

"No."  His refusal but blunt, abrupt, leaving no room for doubt that he did not want her there.

Again, she felt a twinge of hurt feelings, but this time she channeled it into anger.  As he turned toward the Cessna, intending to order Miguel to take her back to the mainland, she seized his arm and pulled him around to face her again, effectively preventing him from seeing Miguel as he scurried up the steps of the airplane.  "I won’t go back, Alan.  I have permission to be here, same as you."

Again, surprise flashed across his face at the news that she had obtained permission from the authorities to be there.  "Ellie, I can’t do my work if I have to worry about you."

"Then don’t worry about me.  Just tell me what needs to be done, and let me do it.  I’m a good worker.  You know that."

The rev of a Cessna engine drew Alan’s attention away from her, but he could do nothing except watch in dismay as the airplane sped down the runway and lifted into the brilliant blue sky.

As the roar of the engines faded away, he turned back to her with an accusing look, the same look he had bestowed upon the young boy who had sarcastically quizzed him about raptors just prior to John Hammond's arrival at their base camp, before he had invited them to Jurassic Park.

Ellie was not intimidated.  "I paid them extra to leave before you could say no," she confessed.  "And in case you’re wondering, I also paid them for the supplies, so they could make a hasty departure without having to wait around for payment."

He glared at her several more moments, his blue eyes icy with anger, then he abruptly turned his back to her and walked to the edge of the forest, where he had left the four-wheeled hand truck that would be used to transport his supplies back to the compound in which he had been living.  Coming to a halt beside it, he placed his hands on his hips and stared at the ground at his feet, shaking his head with disbelief. His shoulders lifted and fell as he drew in a deep breath, then sank again as he released it in a heavy sigh.  "This is great," he said, sarcastically.  "This is just great."  He turned back to face her, half admiring her determination and half condemning her foolishness.  "Have you lost your mind?"

"Alan, I was tired of sitting at home staring at four walls with nothing to do except think about everything that happened.  I hoped maybe you’d let me work with you again."

"What is this?" he asked, spreading his hands in a gesture of bewilderment. "A form of female midlife crisis or some such nonsense?"

Ellie frowned, puzzled by his peculiar comment.  "Midlife crisis? What the hell are you talking about?"

"You have two little children at home, or had you forgotten?"  He seized the handle of the dolly and dragged it behind him as he strode toward the supplies, casting a meaningful look at her as he passed her.  "They need their mother at home, not out here on an island trying to ‘find yourself’ or whatever it is you’re trying to do."  He stopped the hand truck beside the supplies, and began stacking the boxes on the frame.

Ellie stared at him, agape.  He didn’t know!  Somehow, he had not received her letter or her messages.  And he must think her a neglectful mother for leaving her children behind while she spend a minimum of six weeks on a dangerous island nearly half a world away.

She approached him. "Alan, I need to explain ---"

"Go get your suitcases," he interrupted, resigned to the situation.  "Miguel left them on the runway."

Ellie gazed at him, imploringly. "Alan --"

"Look, you said you wanted to work," he reminded her, shortly.  "Since you’re stuck here for the next six weeks, I’ll put you to work, just like you wanted.  Get the suitcases.  I’ll make room on the four-wheeler for them, but you’ll have to carry the ice chest.  With all these extra supplies, there won‘t be enough room for them."  There was an inhospitable tone to his voice that was hurtful, and he turned his back and began lifting the boxes of supplies and arranging them on the aluminum platform of the hand truck.

Ellie fell silent.  Turning away from him abruptly, she strode to the concrete runway, and picked up the two suitcases and her duffel bag, and carried them back to the four-wheeler.

As Alan finished stacking the boxes and her suitcases on the hand truck, Ellie picked up the ice chest by its handle.  Then she followed him as he led the way into the forest, pushing the hand truck ahead of him.

 

SIX

The first thing that struck her as they entered the tree line was the wild, primitive beauty of the tropical island jungle.  Nodding green fronds brushed softly against her arms and face as she pushed her way through the underbrush that seemed to form a protective curtain, separating the hot asphalt of the landing strip and the unsightly, man-made clearing in which it had been laid, from the eternal shade of the dense rainforest.  Towering giants formed the forest canopy, effectively blocking out almost all of the sunlight.  In the perpetual shade below, violets, orchids, ferns, and mosses and lichens grew in abundance, painting the forest floor with beautiful splashes of color.  In the time it takes to walk a mere few steps, she had passed from the modern world into a primeval world.

Even though the temperature was in the mid-eighties, Ellie felt chilled as the full realization of where she was surfaced with a jolt of apprehension.  This would not be a walk in the park.  For the next six weeks, she would be confined to an island in the pacific, uninhabited by humans, except one man who clearly did not want her company, and populated by ancient animals, resurrected by science.  In her mind, she could hear her mother’s reproachful voice, Ellie! What were you thinking?

There was little grass in the densest parts of the forest.  Instead, fuzzy green moss grew on the damp ground and covered rocks and fallen logs.  The trees and shade-loving shrubs crowded close together to an almost claustrophobic degree, and overhead, the long limbs and fronds stretched across their path, threading together and creating the sensation of being inside a long, green, shaded tunnel.  Thick, ropey vines climbed the trunks of trees, twining around the limbs, seeking the life-giving sunlight in the treetops.  It was the perfect setting for a dinosaur habitat.

The path they were on had clearly been a road at some point in the island’s recent history, before nature had reclaimed most of it. She could easily make out the tire ruts that were carved into the jungle floor by the geneticists and maintenance crew who had worked on this island prior to InGen’s demise. Obviously, they had used motor powered vehicles to transport supplies from the landing strip to the compound. Unfortunately, Alan had no such luxury. His only method of transporting goods was with the four wheeler.

As the initial shock of her hasty decision wore off, she began to notice the heat. Sweat trickled along her scalp and down her back beneath the sleeveless blouse she wore. Her poor physical condition quickly caught up with her, and within ten minutes she was nearing the point of exhaustion. Without a word of complaint, she trudged through the heat and humidity, gazing at the stiff back of the man who walked ahead of her.

Alan was angry.  He had not spoken to her since they had entered the tree line.  For the time being, she made no further attempts to converse with him, deciding it was best to let him get used to the idea of her being there before she tried to explain herself.  With a sense of wonder, she observed the shock of long, lank hair that protruded from beneath his hat and hung over the collar of his shirt.  She could not recall ever seeing him with long hair, nor had she ever seen a picture of him in which his hair was long.  The reason was obvious: he simply had no means of cutting it out here.

Shifting her attention from his hair to his demeanor, she saw that the paleontologist was maintaining an alert posture, keeping a wary eye on the forest around them.  Occasionally, she saw him turn his head slightly, listening attentively to sounds in the brush.  Every muscle in his body was tense, ready to react as the need arose.

Ellie felt her pulse quicken, reminded of the constant danger that surrounded them.  A predator could be stalking them at that very moment, unseen in the dense foliage.  Glancing tentatively behind her, she was relieved to find that they were not being stalked from the rear.

After about twenty minutes of walking, they reached a small tributary that wound its way through the forest with a soothing sound of water trickling over rocks.  Wooden planks, placed across the stream to accommodate vehicular tires, showed distinct signs of decay in the humid atmosphere of the island.  Ignoring the planks, knowing they would not hold his weight, Alan steered the four-wheeler through the shallow, narrow stream.  Because of the weight of the extra supplies, he had to exert some extra might into the task of pushing it out of the water and up the mossy bank on the other side.

Ellie did not utter a word of complaint as she trudged behind him, struggling with the heavy ice chest as she sloshed through the ankle deep water.

At the top of a small rise on the other side of the stream, Alan paused to rest.  Gratefully, Ellie set down the ice chest with a thump, then spread her aching hands to examine them, wondering if they would blister.

Alan turned to face her, and noticed the way she nursed her aching hands.  "Heavy?" he asked.

"Nothing I can’t handle," she told him, shortly.

Chirping sounds in the treetops resonated through the forest tunnel.  Alarmed, Ellie raised her eyes, searching for the source.

"It’s okay," Alan told her, lifting his eyes to the trees as well, but without the concern she felt.  "It’s just birds.  It’s when they fall silent that you have cause for worry.  You can use nature to your advantage if you pay attention to it.  When a predator is near, the forest takes on an unearthly silence, like the animals and birds are holding their breath to see who gets taken."

Ellie’s eyes finally located the brightly colored parrots, indigenous to the Central American regions, and she began to relax, satisfied that they were not in imminent danger.  "I’ll remember that."

Alan shrugged.  "Well, you don’t need to worry too much about it, because you won’t be leaving the compound without me."

She looked at him, observing him silently.  The anger he had demonstrated toward her seemed to have abated, and it appeared he had accepted her presence.  That was a characteristic of his personality: things that could not be changed were not worth dwelling on.  He was not happy with it, but she was there, and he had resigned himself to that fact.

When he determined that they had rested long enough, he gripped the handle of the four-wheeler again.  "Well, we’d best get moving. We still have a ways to go."

She made no comment, but inwardly she was not ready to go yet. Picking up the ice chest again, she trudged after him, refusing to complain, even though she felt like she was ready to drop any moment.

The air inside the tunnel beneath the forest canopy was still and humid, with no breeze at all to relieve the oppressive heat.  The ice chest was growing unbearably heavy, and she repeatedly shifted it from one hand to the other, seeking to relieve her aching hands and shoulders.

After another twenty minutes of walking, Ellie was nearing the point of collapse.  She had not come to the island to be a burden to Alan, so she did not utter a word of complaint, but she was starting to realize that the accident followed by twelve weeks of inactivity had left her badly out of shape.  She was physically in no condition to be hiking through a tropical jungle carrying a heavy object.

Her pulse pounded painfully in her temples, and it seemed her lungs were unable to draw sufficient quantities of oxygen to satisfy her need.  She was drenched with perspiration, her hands were chafed from the rough handle of the ice chest, and her back and shoulders ached from the weight of its contents.

Just when she thought she couldn’t go one step farther, Alan stopped again for another rest break.  "We’ll rest here a few minutes," he said, removing his hat to wipe his face and forehead with a handkerchief.  He turned to face her as she set down the ice chest and slipped off the backpack.  His face registered sudden alarm when he saw her pale face.  "Ellie! You’re white as a ghost!"

She did not doubt that.  She felt light-headed and shaky.  "I think I should sit down," she murmured, stumbling slightly as she groped for something to hold on to.

Slapping the hat on the handle of the dolly, he rushed forward to assist her.  "Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?" he asked as took her arm and guided her to a mossy patch of ground at the base of a large tree.  Gently, he eased her down until she was comfortably seated.  "Are you okay?" he asked, squatting down beside her.

"Just a little out of shape," she replied, messaging her pounding temples with her fingertips and gasping for breath.

His concerned frown indicated he did not believe her.  "That’s more than just being out of shape."  He looked at her, critically.  "You’re not pregnant, are you?"

She shook her head, wincing at the pain it caused.  "No, I’m not pregnant.  I told you, I’ve been inactive for awhile.  Plus, it was snowing when I left Arlington, and then I get here and the air is so hot and humid."

He nodded in agreement.  "Yes. I had forgotten; it’s still winter back home. It takes awhile to get adjusted.  "He stood up and returned to the boxes of goods on the hand truck.

He opened up one of the cartons and withdrew two bottles of water.  He twisted the top off one and handed it to her, watching as she drank it, greedily.  He made no comment as he twisted the top off the other one, and took a long drink of water.  It was warm, but it felt good and wet going down his dry throat.

Somewhere in the distance, they heard the haunting, trumpeting call of a brachiosaur resounding in the hot air.  They listened silently until the call died away.

For a long time, neither spoke, then Ellie broke the silence.  "I remember the first time we saw one."

He smiled.  "I nearly fainted."

She did not smile in return.  She was too tired.  "You were rather overcome with astonishment," she agreed.

Her choice of words sounded as though she was attempting to tease him about his embarrassing reaction to his first encounter with the dinosaurs, but her heart wasn’t in the gesture.  Her voice was flat, her eyes almost lifeless.

A pensive frown creased his brow as he observed her, wondering what had happened to the impish smile that she had once bestowed so generously on others.  She seemed both physically and emotionally drained.  Clearly, something traumatic had occurred in her life, but he was at a loss to explain what it could be.  The only thing that came to mind was that she and Mark were having marital problems, and she had come to the island to avoid them.  On the other hand, it was not typical of Ellie to run away from problems.  Usually, she met them head-on.

And then there was the matter of the children.  Alan, more than anyone else, knew how desperately she had wanted children, children he had been unwilling to father.  She would not have left her children into the care of others for such a great length of time without reason, but he could not think of a single motive that would inspire her to leave her children behind.  If Mark had left her and taken the children, she would have stayed to fight him like a tigress for their return.

His frown deepened. It did not make sense.

Ellie avoided his penetrating gaze.  She suspected the nature of his thoughts, but she was too tired to deal with them just then.

She took another long drink of water and leaned back against the trunk of the tree behind her, allowing her head to fall back against the rough bark.  Closing her eyes, she listened to the sounds of nature in the trees above her and the gurgling sounds of the water in a nearby stream.  Her pulse was beginning to slow, and it was easier to breathe, but she still felt totally drained of energy, and her head was still pounding.

This was a mistake, she thought.  Mom was right.  I was too hasty.  I should have thought this through.  She knew what would have happened, even if she had thought it over.  You would have come anyway, she told herself.  You’re here because you want to be.  You want to be with Alan, even if doesn’t want you to be with him.

Alan twisted the cap back on his bottle of water, and slid it back into one of the empty slots in the carton, then he stood still for several moments and watched Ellie as she rested, a concerned expression on his face.  Her physical appearance was troubling.  She was thin, way too thin for her height, and he wondered if she had medical problems.  If she was ill, she was a long way from medical help.

Sweat trickled through his hair, tickling his scalp, and he reached up to scratch it, then trailed his fingers through the long strands of hair.  He had not had a haircut since June, just prior to the fund raiser at the University in Virginia, nine months ago, and it had grown longer than he had ever worn it in his life.  He had not washed his hair in several days, and it was lank and dirty.  Even though he bathed regularly and kept himself shaved, he had not been too concerned about his appearance.  He could not even remember if he had brushed his hair that morning.  After all, the dinosaurs did not care how he looked.  Glancing at Ellie, he knew he would have to take more care.

He turned away, irritated with himself.  What did it matter?  She was married to someone else, and he would not interfere with that.

A fallen branch snapped somewhere nearby, as if under a heavy weight.  Alan turned toward it, his hand going automatically to the electrified shock prod he carried in a loop attached to his belt.  He removed it from the loop and activated it, then glanced worriedly at the woman.

"Ellie?"

She did not answer, and he realized she was dozing.

He did not want to leave her alone, but he needed to know what species was lurking nearby.  He would only be gone a few moments, and she needed the rest.

Gripping the prod, he stepped into the forest.

Ellie did not know how long she had been sitting against the tree when she felt something skitter across her leg.

Startled, her eyes popped open.

She was still seated on the cool mossy ground, her back pressed against the rough bark of a tree.  Her right leg was stretched out in front of her, the left leg curled beneath it.  She had briefly but distinctly felt the tiny foot of an unidentified animal on the right leg as it scurried past.

The creature, whatever it was, was no longer in sight, and she discovered, with mounting alarm, neither was Alan.  For some reason, he had chosen to leave her there alone!

Glancing quickly at the supplies, she saw that the dolly and its cargo were still positioned where he had left them.  The fedora rested atop the handle.  The ice chest sat beside it.  He had not gone far, unless the unthinkable had happened.

She knew she had been dozing, but if he had been attacked, wouldn’t she have heard something?

She raised up. "Alan?"

She listened intently, but no reassuring answer came back to her from the paleontologist.  She heard only the chirping of birds and a peculiar chittering sound coming from just inside the dense forest.

Her heart skipped a beat, then accelerated again.  It was the vocalizations of a small dinosaur, but she could not identify it.  She had never heard that particular sound.

An answering chittering came from a different position.  Whatever it was, there was more than one.

"Alan?" she called again.

Her eyes darted right and left, looking up and down the narrow forest tunnel, searching for some sign of the paleontologist.  She saw nothing to indicate where he had gone or why he had left her there alone.

Then, she saw one of the animals.  It was a small dinosaur, roughly the size of a large chicken or small turkey that had been plucked of its feathers. Instead of wings, its small, clawed hands were curled loosely at its breast.  It’s tail, wide at the base and narrow at the tip, was carried aloft for balance, as were the tails of other dinosaurs.

The creature hopped onto a fallen log, and chittered excitedly, never taking its eyes off her.  It bobbed its head and bowed, then lifted one hind leg to scratch the back of its head.

She looked at it, carefully.  She should know the genus, but it had been a long time since she had studied the lesser species of dinosaurs.  The name did not come to her.

Several more of the small creatures emerged from the forest, stopping just inside the tunnel.  They were watching her, curiously, as if waiting for something.

Behind her, she heard something moving through the brush, something much larger than the tiny dinosaurs who still waited, and she swung toward it, alarmed.

Alan emerged from the forest, his shock prod in his hand.

He instantly spotted the creatures that were gathered around her, and moved toward them, making a threatening gesture with the prod.

The creatures shrieked in fright and scattered, disappearing into the forest.

"They’ve been zapped so many times with the prod that all I have to do is show it to them, now, and they run off," he explained.  "They can be nuisances."

"What were they?" Ellie asked.

"Procompsognathids," he replied. "Compies."

She nodded.  Yes, that was the name she had tried to remember.  "I don’t recall seeing those on the other island."

"I didn’t either, but they’re thick, here.  They’re apparently very prolific.  Primarily, they’re scavengers, rather like vultures, cleaning up after the larger predators, but if they’re extremely hungry, they will attack in a flock if they can find a small or wounded animal alone.  They probably sensed your weakened condition and thought you were dying."  A frown crossed his face as he raised his eyes to her face with sudden unease, considering something else that might have attracted the compies.  "Ellie, I hate to ask this, but are you having your period?"

"Alan!" she protested, offended that he had so bluntly asked that question to a woman with whom he had not been intimate in many years.

"Don’t get your hackles up.  I’m not asking out of a perverted sense of curiosity.  I’m thinking of the compies, the way they were gathered around you like that.  If you were having your period, it would explain why they were so interested in you.  They smelled the blood, and thought you were wounded."

It was a feasible idea, but nothing could have been farther from the truth.  "It never occurred to me.  However, in answer to your question, no, I‘m not having my period."

He dragged his hand across his jaw, thinking about the ramifications of having a woman in the jungle with him.  "All right, but during your menstrual periods, you’re going to have to stay indoors.  I don’t want you going outside at all.  You could attract a predator that could put your life or mine at risk."

She would have to explain herself to him later, but for now, she simply nodded her agreement.  "All right."

He squatted down beside her again.  "Are you all right?"

Impulsively, she placed one hand on the center of his chest and shoved.  Caught off guard, he fell backward on his rear with a surprised grunt and a dull thud.

"That was for leaving me alone!" she told him, angrily, demonstrating more emotion than she had shown since stepping off the plane.

"Sorry," he replied, meekly, accepting the blame.  "I thought I would get back before you woke up."

"Why did you leave?"

"I heard something moving through the brush, so I went to check it out."

"I can’t believe you left me alone like that!  What if it had circled back?"

"It wasn’t a predator. In fact, there aren’t many predators in this particular part of the forest."

"Why is that?"

He shrugged.  "The trees are so close together that the larger sauropods can’t get through it, and the large predators like T-Rex tend to stay close to the herds.  I’ve seen the armored dinosaurs in here, but the predators, including the raptors, rarely bother them.  They seem to prefer easier prey, probably because they’re in such abundance.  Of course, that isn't to say they never come in here."

"What was it you heard?"

"Just a protoceratops."  He climbed to his feet, brushing the dust and leaves from his jeans.  Do you need to rest awhile longer?" he asked.

"No. I’m ready to go."

He offered his hand, and after a brief hesitation, she slipped her smaller hand in his, and was pulled lightly to her feet.

"I’m sorry I pushed you down," she apologized, sheepishly as she brushed herself off.  "That was very childish of me."

"Well, I suppose I deserved it.  I was wrong to leave you without first letting you know what I was doing, and I apologize for that."

She reached for the ice chest.

"Let me see if I can fit that on the hand truck," Alan suggested.

"It’ll make the load too heavy," she objected.  "Because of my suitcases and the extra supplies, you can barely push it as it is.  I can manage, if we stop to rest occasionally."

He looked at her, skeptically, thinking that she appeared awfully frail.  "I don’t know, Ellie.  You didn’t see how pale you were."

"I’m fine," she told him.  Lifting the ice chest, she started down the path again in the direction they had been traveling before the rest stop.

He replaced his hat on his head, and pushed the four-wheeler after her.