Time Crunch Page 12

  Or at least for Zach!

  He was just about to pull himself from the water when he heard a snort.

  Chase ducked back into the pool, lowering himself until his eyes were just above the water. He slowly swiveled his head, scanning the trees. At first he didn’t see anything. But on the next sweep he spotted something that didn’t quite match the foliage. He looked hard and after a moment was able to make out a shape. It was a five-foot dinosaur, standing on two legs just inside the trees.

  Holding as still as he could, Chase watched. But the animal was still as a statue.

  Can’t believe it can keep so still … especially for so long.

  What seemed like several minutes went by. Then the animal stepped carefully from the trees and into the sunlight.

  It looks like an allosaur, Chase thought, a faraway part of his brain ignoring the danger to provide analysis. But it’s not big enough.

  The creature also had a pointier head than an allosaur, and a longer, more curved neck. Its skin was the color of pencil lead, with alternating black and yellow stripes. And—Chase sucked in a breath—on each foot was a large sickle-shaped claw.

  The killing claw!

  Chase had seen enough pictures of deinonychus and velociraptors to recognize it. He knew paleontologists differed on how predators actually used the terrible claw …

  But whether it stabs me or pins me or slashes my guts out with it, it’s gonna hurt!

  The animal was a little shorter than Chase was tall, and unlike allosaurs—or tyrannosaurs or most of the large theropods—it was standing erect.

  Like a person.

  Chase wasn’t certain, but guessed large predators walked parallel to the ground because of their immense weight, balancing their chests and heads with their thick, muscular tails.

  But smaller ones aren’t so heavy. They don’t have to walk hunched over and, anyway, they can probably see better standing up.

  The creature remained perfectly still, but Chase could see its eyes darting back and forth as it scanned the trees. After another minute or so, the animal took another couple of steps. It seemed tentative, and Chase wasn’t certain if it was being careful not to spook whatever prey might be close, or watching for larger predators that might be stalking it.

  The creature finally stepped down to the stream and lowered its nose into the water, and Chase had another surprise. He’d never seen a dinosaur drink and assumed they lapped water like dogs and cats. But this one simply shoved its nose into the water. There was no sound, no movement, and Chase thought it must simply be sucking the water from the stream.

  Like it has a straw in its nose!

  It drank for nearly a minute, then straightened and surveyed the streambank. The tail flicked and without the slightest trace of embarrassment the animal defecated, depositing an impressive mound of dark green dung that steamed in the air and was instantly swarming with flies.

  Chase was becoming chilled by the water, but didn’t dare move. Even though the dinosaur wasn’t large, it still had that nasty toe claw. And when it abruptly snapped at a fly or a bug or something on its hindquarters, Chase saw that its jaws were lined with teeth.

  The creature stepped over the rocks … straight toward Chase’s clothes.

  No, no, no, he thought, willing the creature away. Leave ’em alone, leave ’em alone …

  The creature lifted its nose to sample the air, then stepped up to Chase’s cargo pants. As Chase watched in alarm, it bent down and sniffed at them, then flicked the pants with its nose as if checking to see if there was anything underneath.

  Might still be able to smell ceratosaur goo …

  There was a chatter from the trees, and the creature looked up for a moment, then stepped over the pants to sniff Chase’s boots. It nosed one of the boots around for a moment, then bit into the leather and lifted the boot as if it might eat it.

  No, no, noooo! Chase thought horrified.

  He couldn’t afford to lose his boots! Losing his shirt, or his pants, or anything else would be horrible … but without his boots, he was lost!

  For a brief second he thought of yelling, or throwing a rock, or exploding from the stream and waving his arms to scare the creature away. But he didn’t dare. He knew he’d certainly startle the thing—

  But it’s programmed to hunt, and defend itself, and it’s likely to come after me.

  He eyed the wicked toe claw.

  And against that, a naked kid wouldn’t stand a chance!

  He began to shiver, clamping his teeth to keep them from chattering.

  The dinosaur dropped the boot and sniffed at the other one. It flicked its tongue out for a quick taste, and then reached down and bit it.

  Picked it up.

  The dinosaur shook its head—shaking the boot—and then with a flick tossed it into the air. The animal caught it on the way back down, gave it another vigorous shake, then tossed it again.

  Man, the freakin’ thing’s playing with it!

  The boot came down several feet away, but the dinosaur pounced after it—

  Just like a dog after a ball!

  —lifting it back into the air and giving it another brisk shake. The dinosaur bobbed its head a couple of times, then tossed the boot—

  Something honked from the trees and the dinosaur snapped to attention. It peered into the forest, lifting its nose and checking the air. It didn’t move for about a minute, then turned and looked around. It ignored Chase’s boot, having either forgotten it or lost interest.

  It bobbed its head a couple of times—

  I wonder what that’s about …

  —and then strode carefully down the streambank, almost tiptoeing as it walked, holding its forearms curled at its sides like a kid sneaking through the woods. After several feet it turned back into the trees and disappeared.

  Chase waited for more than a minute, his teeth now chattering out of control, then erupted from the water. He bolted onto the rocks—into the sun—and flapped his arms, trying to restore some warmth. He rubbed his arms—rubbing down the goose bumps—then rubbed his legs vigorously—hopping from foot to foot—trying to restore the circulation. He pounded his chest and jumped up and down, willing the sun to shine down even hotter than usual—

  There was a howl from the trees. Chase didn’t know what it was—didn’t care—didn’t take time to look. He swept up his clothes, clamped them tight to his chest, and tore into the trees toward camp, running awkwardly in his bare feet.

  The trail was rough and rocky—not made for traveling barefoot—but that didn’t slow him down. He made the trip back to camp in record time, bursting into the clearing so unexpectedly that Zach jumped in surprise.

  “Whoa!” Zach yelled. He did a quick double-take—checking to be sure Chase wasn’t being chased by something large and scary, then wrinkled his nose.

  “Maybe I forgot to mention it,” he said dryly, “but we have a dress code here …”

  CHASE WAS STILL shivering as he pulled on his clothes and laced up his boots. Everything was still damp, but Zach threw several stout limbs on the dwindling fire to dry him off.

  “Yeah, I’ve seen those guys,” Zach said, after Chase described the dinosaur. “They might be coelophysis—”

  “Seeloa—”

  “SEE-low-FEE-sis. I just call ’em ‘see-lows,’ and they’re usually about ten feet long. You probably ran into a young one. Animals are cute when they’re little like that, but you were smart to stay in the water. I’ve seen ’em chasing isanosaurs and they’re pretty mean. You the saw the big claw, right?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Chase said through chattering teeth. He shivered, then asked, “Ah—are we safe here … then?”

  “We’re not really safe anywhere,” Zach reminded him. “But we’re as safe as it gets. And if anything does come wandering by, we can hide in the rocks. Like I said, nothing can get to us in there.”

  Chase huddled as close to the fire as he dared, beating his arms across his chest, soaking in the heat
as feeling slowly seeped back into his arms and legs. He closed his eyes, savoring the heat of the fire on his face and the warmth of the sun on his back.

  His teeth gave a last chatter, then relaxed.

  “Stuff like that happen a lot?” he asked.

  “Oh, off and on. I had a zachiosaur track me for a couple miles once. That was pretty intense.”

  “How’d you get away?”

  “Couple others came up and started a fight.”

  Chase shook his head. He remembered a time when Zach would have turned a mosquito bite into a life-changing event. Now he was brushing off fighting dinosaurs like they were nothing.

  He held his hands close to the fire. “So … what’s on for the rest of the day?”

  “We could go looking for allosaur teeth. I know where to find some, but they’re still attached to the allosaurs. And if you don’t wanna do that, um … I got nothin’. ”

  Chase squinted into the fire as he contemplated the possibilities.

  Kinda odd, he thought. What did you do in a place where staying alive and trying not to get eaten was a full-time job?

  “We’ve got, what?” Zach asked. “Five days before we’re rescued?”

  “Five or six. Depends on how long it takes before someone gets worried enough to check on us.”

  “Too bad your little radio got smashed. Would have been nice to hook up with your friends.”

  “Yeah. And we might want to think about that. Figure out some way to find them. Or signal them. Let them know we’re here.”

  “We could build a fire. Make it really smoky during the day and really bright at night. They might see it and come looking.”

  “Yeah,” Chase said, not a hundred percent enthusiastic. It sounded like a good idea, but in his experience, fires attracted more dinosaurs than they discouraged.

  “I’ve got another idea,” Zach announced.

  “Did it hurt?”

  “Did what hurt?”

  “Having an idea.”

  “Yuk, yuk, yuk,” Zach responded sarcastically.

  Chase couldn’t help grinning; couldn’t help thinking how goofy it all was.

  Here we are, surrounded by dinosaurs, and we’re goofing around again, just like normal.

  It actually made him feel a little better.

  “What’s your idea?”

  Zach pointed into the distance. “We could hike over to those low hills and set up camp there. They’re kind of rocky, and since there’s not a lot of vegetation there won’t be a lot of animals, either. Not so many things to chase us around. Anyway, we could head that way, which will put us a little closer to wherever your friends are.”

  Chase grinned.

  “What?” Zach asked, expecting Chase to say something abusive.

  “No, no,” Chase said, reading the look on Zach’s face. “But when the guys asked where I thought you’d go, that’s exactly what I told them. Up in the rocky hills. That’s where we were going when the dilophosaurs ambushed us.”

  “Huh. But, what do you think?”

  “I think it’s a good idea.”

  Zach looked pleased. “Good. Let’s do it.”

  14 Fire Ferns

  ZACH WAS RIGHT, Chase thought as they hiked. The closer they got to the rocky hills, the fewer animals there seemed to be. On the other hand, less trees also meant less cover and fewer places to hide.

  So there’s a fine line here. Fewer animals means less cover, but more cover means more animals.

  The key, he decided, was striking a balance. Finding enough trees to feel protected, but not so many that they also hid predators.

  Once the trees began to thin out, they turned and began hiking south, staying just inside the woods.

  “If we’re spotted out in the open, something might decide we’re easy pickin’s and make a run at us,” Zach said. “And we won’t have anywhere to go.”

  That made sense, and Chase didn’t argue. After all, Zach did have more experience in dinosaur country. And while there weren’t as many predators to hide from, it only took one to come racing out of the trees and that would be that.

  The air was still warm and humid, scented heavily with the aroma of freshly dug earth. The buzzing of insects never waned, nor did the chirps, chatters, roars, and growls from the forest.

  Chase was feeling a lot better, too. Washed free of blood and gore and other grotesqueries, his clothes felt more comfortable. And after his soak in the icy stream, he felt especially invigorated.

  This could actually be a lot of fun, he thought. If it weren’t for people being lost, and killed …

  And eaten.

  He wondered if it was possible to come to a place like this without having to worry about being eaten alive. The answer, of course, was—

  No way. Without predators, the plant eaters would overrun the place. It wouldn’t be long before all the food was gone, and then all the animals would die. No, this place couldn’t exist without predators, and as long as there are predators it’ll never be safe. You couldn’t ever just come for a nice family picnic. Not without an army of guys standing guard.

  He wasn’t certain how to feel about that. But then thought: No, this isn’t a place you’d come for a picnic anyway. It’s a great place to explore, sure. And to study and marvel at and figure things out. But it’ll never be a place to simply stretch out and relax in the sun. Nor should it be.

  He nodded to himself.

  But the world’s a whole lot more interesting knowing these creatures are—were?—here.

  There was a panicked trumpet from the distance, followed by several more. It almost sounded like a traffic jam, with dozens of trucks and cars honking again and again. A rumble like distant thunder rolled over the forest and—far away—Chase could see clouds of dust rising from the foliage.

  What the—

  “Something’s spooked the apatosaurs,” Zach said, looking out over the jungle. And then he asked the same question Chase was wondering: “What’s scary enough to spook a herd of forty-ton animals?”

  “Don’t know.” Chase actually knew of a couple of possibilities, but none of them seemed likely.

  They watched the dust rolling up from the forest, tracking the stampede—

  No wonder they call them “thunder lizards”!

  —and listened to the panicked trumpets. Whatever was going on, Chase was certain there were animals fleeing in all directions. They weren’t just afraid of whatever-it-was that startled the sauropods; but if they were close enough to the action, there was a good chance of being trampled by the frantic apatosaurs.

  Which could ruin your day in a hurry, Chase thought wanly. He rubbed his ribs, which were still sore from the day before.

  “Got a question,” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  “What’s the difference between an apatosaur and a brontosaur?”

  Zach looked perplexed. “Why?”

  “Just curious.” He flicked a hand toward the stampede. “I’ve been trampled by them, I’ve been peed on by them … I’d just like to know what they really are.”

  Zach hesitated. Chase was an armchair expert on tyrannosaurs, but that’s the only dinosaur he’d ever really had an interest in. Zach wasn’t convinced the question wasn’t some sort of joke.

  “Okay,” Zach said finally. “But first, you’ve gotta understand something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, if we were back home and I said that I saw a deer, what would you think of?”

  “I don’t know. A deer, like you see in the mountains.”

  “Yeah, but was it a mule deer or a red deer? I mean, it could have been a whitetail deer, a blacktail deer, a fallow deer, a roe deer … heck, for all you know, it could have been a reindeer …”

  “But—”

  “And that’s the thing,” Zach went on. “There are, like, dozens of different kinds of deer. And it’s the same with dinosaurs. Those things we saw fighting this morning looked like allosaurs. But there are actually a l
ot of things that look like allosaurs. So if we packed one up and took it home, a paleontologist might tell us it’s actually a carcharodontosaur, a giganotosaur, a megaraptor, a fukuirator, a neovenator, a saurophaganax—”

  “Okay, okay,” Chase said. “I get the point.”

  “Yeah, well, there you go. So when I say something’s an apatosaur, what I mean is that it looks like an apatosaur, but that it really could be—”

  “Okay, I get it.”

  “So do you still want to know?”

  “Know what?” Chase asked, getting a headache.

  “The difference between an apatosaur and a brontosaur?”

  “Not anymore …”

  “When they were first discovered, scientists thought they were different animals,” Zach went on anyway. “But in the early days they didn’t know a lot and put the fossils together wrong. After a while and a lot of research, people began thinking they were more alike than different—sort of like step-sisters or something—and decided they were actually the same thing. Since apatosaurs were discovered first, that name stuck and no one called them brontosaurs anymore.”

  He swatted at a mosquito.

  “But not too long ago—like in just the past five or six years—researchers decided that brontosaurs were different. Were a completely different genus. So now we have both again.”

  “But what’s the difference?”

  Zach shook his head. “To the average person, not a lot. Put a couple out in a field and only one person in a thousand could you tell which was which. But the main thing is that apatosaurs are about ten tons bigger.”

  “So are these apatosaurs or brontosaurs?”

  “The ones we’ve been watching are apatosaurs. But there are a few brontosaurs around. And if we looked, we could probably find a diplodocus or two—they look like the others, but they’re longer and skinnier—and we might even run into a few brachiosaurs. Man, I’d love that! Their front legs are longer than their back ones so they walk around with their heads way high in the air.”

  “You really know your stuff, huh?”

  “Well like I said, I did a lot of reading. Looked at lots of pictures. Kind of learned what’s what.”