Time Crunch Page 13

  The stampede was still in progress—dust still rolling up from the trees, shrill trumpets ringing over the forest and the sound of thunder shaking the earth—and Chase yearned to know what had caused it … to see what could send a herd of giant animals fleeing in panic.

  He had a feeling that whatever it was, it was large and terrifying.

  He fought back a shudder, then glanced up and nudged Zach.

  “Look at those.”

  Zach looked. Fifteen or twenty bird-like things were circling the forest in the general direction the boys were heading. Unlike the creatures that stole Zach’s fish, these things could have been six or seven feet long.

  With long, sharp, saber-like beaks.

  Zach shivered.

  “Pterosaurs. Hate those things. Don’t know what’s got their attention, but I hope they’re gone by the time we get there.”

  “So what’s the deal? I mean, why are they circling like that? They like vultures or something?”

  “No …” Zach cocked his head as he watched the sleek pterosaurs. “I think it’s more likely they’ve got something cornered. Maybe waiting for it to show itself before they, you know … attack.”

  Chase nodded grimly. In another time and place, he and Zach had run into a bunch of pterodactyl-like things, and the meeting hadn’t been pleasant. One wasn’t as terrifying as a tyrannosaur at close range. But several dropping out of the sky and coming at you from all different directions could be just as deadly.

  Just the thought of the things sent chills crawling up his back like hairy Callovian spiders.

  AFTER ANOTHER thirty minutes, Zach stopped to stretch a kink from his back, and Chase sat on a rock.

  Wish I had my pack, he thought. And my water bottle.

  He turned his head and listened, amazed by the constant buzz of insects.

  Getting so used to it I hardly notice it anymore.

  He glanced at Zach, knowing his friend was the same way.

  Just as I don’t notice the buzz, he blocks out the danger. He doesn’t forget it’s there, but he’s so used to it now it’s no longer the foremost thing in his mind. It’s like he’s just … accepted it.

  He shook his head. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be so used to terror—

  He noticed Zach staring at him.

  “What?”

  “You’ve got a goofy look on your face. Just wondered what you’re thinking about.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Yeah, right.” Zach knew him too well to be convinced. “You ready to go?”

  “Yeah.”

  THEY MARCHED ON. Chase noticed the apatosaurs had finally calmed down, though the pterosaurs were still circling the rocks ahead.

  Still a ways away, though, he thought. Don’t have to worry about ’em for a while.

  Something occurred to him and he tossed a small stick to attract Zach’s attention.

  “Hey, got another question.”

  “That’s a change.”

  Chase hurried and caught up so they were hiking side by side. “Huh?”

  “You’re usually the one with all the answers. Not used to you asking so many questions.”

  “Well, you’re the expert here. I’m just along for the ride.”

  Zach nodded, obviously pleased at being thought of as “the expert.”

  “What’s your question?”

  “I talked to some guy named Jaffa—”

  “Oh, yeah. He’s one of Dr. Bream’s guys. Total brainiac.”

  “Yeah, I got that impression.” Chase sobered a moment, wondering if the man survived the ceratosaur attack. “Anyway, how many places have they been? You know, how many alternate worlds have they discovered?”

  “Not sure. Couple dozen, I guess.”

  “And it’s all just guesswork? I mean, they don’t know where they’re going until they actually pop in for a look?”

  “Guess not. They identify the location of alternate realities—or at least the places they can pop through—with a bunch of fancy gizmos—Jaffa told you about the static they home in on, right?—and then hold their breath, cross their fingers, and fly on in. See what’s there.”

  “Sounds spooky.”

  “Yeah, I guess it is. I mean, they could end up anywhere. Past, present, future … you know: whenever.”

  “Huh.” And then: “But when they come to a place like this and go messing around, doesn’t that change the future?”

  Zach sucked in his breath. “They talk about that a lot. Apparently, there’s a bunch of people who don’t think we—they—should be doing this. But we haven’t really gone into the past, y’know? In this world, the future hasn’t happened yet. So we might have an effect on what eventually happens, yeah. But we haven’t changed anything. I mean, it’s not like going into the past and messing things up so your parents never have kids and—poof!—you vanish in a puff of smoke.”

  Chase wrinkled his nose like he’d taken a whiff of fresh dino dung. Philosophical talk like that made his teeth hurt.

  But it’ll give me something to write about on my next English paper.

  Crack!

  The boys had begun hiking again, and Chase was watching the ground for tracks when the shot sounded in the distance.

  He looked up and said, “Gunshot!”

  He turned his head all around, waiting for another, but there was nothing … nothing but the usual sounds of the Callovian forest.

  “Which way did it come from?” he asked, still reaching out with his senses. “Could you tell?”

  Zach, too, was looking back and forth, turning his head like a radar dish. “I think”—he pointed emphatically—“I think that way!”

  Chase nodded. “Me, too. Let’s go!”

  The boys charged ahead, toward the sound of the gunshot. Zach was plowing recklessly through the trees, but Chase held back, wary of bolting into an ambush. He was scrambling over a rotting log when a hornet the size of a hummingbird landed on his ear. Chase swatted it away, but the hornet circled around and came in for another pass. Chase saw it coming and waved his hands, trying to keep the enormous insect from landing. He felt something touch his hair—thought it was another hornet—

  “Aaaaighh!”

  —and began dancing through the brush, shaking his head and swatting his hair with both hands. In his panic, he tripped over a log or a stump or a rock—

  He didn’t know which, didn’t care.

  —and fell backward into a wide, leafy fern. The huge bush cushioned his fall, kept him from landing hard, but—

  His hands, arms, and face were instantly on fire, burning as if covered in red-hot coals.

  “Chase! Get out there!”

  Chase was trying. The burn was becoming hotter and more painful by the second, and he lashed out with both hands and feet trying to get out of the bush.

  “Aaaaighh!”

  He screamed in agony, the pain made more intense and frightening by the fact he didn’t know what was happening.

  “Chase!” Zach yelled frantically. “You’re in a fire bush! Get out! Hurry! Get out of there!”

  Chase thrashed violently at the ferns, then finally rolled to his knees, and hopped to his feet. His eyes were wide and wild and filled with fear. He scratched at his arms, desperate to rid himself of whatever was burning them, but scratching only intensified the pain.

  “Chase! Over here, hurry!”

  Zach was gesturing and Chase bolted toward him.

  Zach had a handful of dirt, which he smeared over Chase’s left arm. Without waiting to see if it helped, he reached down for another handful, plastering it over Chase’s right arm.

  “Rub it in!” he ordered, already reaching for more dirt.

  Chase rubbed the dirt in as fast as he could, but if it was helping he couldn’t tell.

  “Hold out your hands!”

  Chase held out his hands and Zach filled them with dirt. “Hurry! Rub this over your face and neck.”

  Chase was in too much pain to ask ques
tions. He slapped the dirt against both cheeks, rubbing it in like he was removing paint. He ran his hands over the back of his neck, beneath his chin, and above his eyes.

  But—

  “It’s not working! Ah—ah—aaaaighh!”

  He was scouring his skin frantically, desperately, madly scrubbing his cheeks, then switching to his arms, then rubbing his face again.

  “Zach! Help me!”

  “The dirt’s not doing it!” Zach shouted needlessly. “We’ve gotta get mud! Gotta get back to the stream!”

  Chase didn’t waste time arguing. He spun in his tracks and sprinted back the way they’d come—panting so hard his tongue flopped from his mouth—swatting and swiping and clawing at every bare patch of skin on his body. He felt his brain going numb from the agony, becoming crazed, desperate for relief. He felt like he was covered with fire ants, all of them pinching and biting and stinging—

  A distant part of his brain warned him of the danger of running through the forest, but he was beyond caring.

  Beyond the fear of dinosaurs.

  Thinking that being eaten alive would hurt less than the agony he was suffering now.

  He burst onto the wide game trail and, not bothering to see if anything was around, bolted for the far side.

  “Chase!”

  Chase recognized Zach’s tone and turned to look as he ran.

  Zach was sprinting down the game trail, windmilling his arm, waving for Chase to follow.

  Zach was going the wrong way—not heading for the stream—but Chase didn’t argue, thinking his friend knew a shortcut, or the location of a pond.

  He leaped logs and stumps and piles of dinosaur dung, running so fast he would have won a medal in any Olympic sprint, feeling like his arms were being eaten by acid, melting into stumps—

  “Over here!”

  Zach had dropped to the ground and was waving frantically. Chase bolted to his side, dropping to his knees just as Zach held up a handful of goopy mud. Without a word, Zach smeared the mud over Chase’s arm, and Chase instantly felt relief. He plunged both hands into the muck, scooped up two enormous handfuls, and slathered them over his arms.

  Zach was helping, smearing the goop over Chase’s neck, and cheeks, and forehead. But he was being too careful about it. Chase plunged both hands into the goop, came up with two enormous handfuls, closed his eyes, and mashed them over his face. He smeared it around—over his cheeks, behind his ears, into his hair, beneath his chin, and even into his nose.

  The mud was helping.

  Chase knew the pain was subsiding, but was still so agonizing he was certain it was raising blisters. He scooped handful after handful of goop from the mudhole, slathering it over his arms, then his face, then his arms again. He realized the poison or whatever was burning him had gotten onto his legs above his boots—his arms and face hurt so bad he hadn’t realized his ankles were on fire, too—and he quickly smeared his calves with thick layers of mud.

  He was beginning to feel a little better—finally realized he wasn’t actually going to die—and slowly regained his breath.

  He heard a sound, and realized Zach was speaking.

  “Huh?”

  “I asked how you’re doing.”

  “Better,” Chase said. He continued smearing the muddy goop over his skin. At first, he’d been scouring his skin like he was trying to remove a bad tattoo, but now he was rubbing it more gently, like a girl applying a soothing lotion.

  “Jeez, Louise,” he said a moment later. He had so much mud on his face that when he opened his eyes he could barely see. “What the freak just happened?”

  “You fell into a bunch of fire ferns,” Zach said. “Remember the ones I showed you? And warned you not to touch?”

  “Yeah,” Chase said, remembering the fern with the wet, sticky leaves.

  “You fell into a whole patch. Fell in and rolled around like a dog in a cow pie.”

  Chase shook his head.

  “Jeez,” he repeated. “Can’t believe how bad it hurts.”

  “You don’t have to tell me. I mean, been there and done that, y’know? I learned about fire ferns the hard way, too.”

  “Jeez,” Chase said for the third time. “How long’s it gonna hurt?”

  “You’re gonna feel it for a while,” Zach said matter-of-factly. “The mud will help, and if we wash it off and rub some fresh mud on, it’ll help even more.”

  “Are we close to the stream?”

  “Not really. We’ve still got a ways to go.”

  Chase smeared on another thick coat of goop. The stuff was thick, like oatmeal, and now that his skin wasn’t burning so bad, he thought—

  He wrinkled his nose, realizing for the first time how bad it smelled.

  Like sour mulch.

  He twisted his head, trying to see through the muck on his face.

  “So what is this?” he asked, the stench becoming more powerful.

  “Hey, you were in pain,” Zach said, without answering the question. “And I couldn’t think of anything else to do.”

  Chase wasn’t getting it. He looked back and forth, remembering they were in the middle of a wide game trail.

  But what—

  He looked down. He wasn’t kneeling at the edge of a stream or a pond. He’d been scooping the muck from a thick, muddy spot—

  Nooooo …

  “Yeah,” Zach said slowly, seeing that he’d figured it out. “It’s the closest mud I could find. Place where some apatosaur took a leak.”

  15 A Billion Stars

  THE HIKE BACK to the stream was miserable.

  Chase still felt pain like the world’s worst sunburn, but it mostly just hurt when he touched it, or when his skin chaffed against his clothes.

  And the urine-soaked mud on his face, arms, and legs was beginning to dry. It was caked on like glue, hardening fast, and kept his neck and hands and elbows from moving as well as usual.

  And the smell …

  Chase couldn’t believe he hadn’t smelled it right away. But he’d been in such agony the pain had overwhelmed his other senses.

  I smell like I’ve been swimming in a sewer, he thought miserably. And then realized, Actually, that’s exactly what I did.

  And right after I took a bath and washed my clothes, too!

  Ugh!

  The worst thing, he thought, was that the smell probably wasn’t going to go away. He knew a kid who once fell into a Scout-camp outhouse. The kid had washed himself clean, of course. He’d washed himself, changed his clothes, and washed himself again. He’d doused himself with his leader’s aftershave. But he still claimed the smell was with him. He hardly ate anything for the rest of the week, claiming everything smelled like … outhouse.

  Ugh!

  Jeez, I hope that doesn’t happen to me!

  ZACH WAS TRUDGING along in silence, as if knowing Chase had lost the desire to talk, if not actually the will to live. Chase was still put off, though he knew the accident wasn’t anyone’s fault. It wasn’t his fault—or Zach’s—that he’d fallen into the fire fern. And even though Zach had him smearing himself with mud made from dinosaur pee, he knew he hadn’t had a choice.

  There was nothing else he could have done.

  Just one of those things.

  “Thanks,” Chase said after a minute.

  Zach turned. “Huh?”

  “I said thanks. For helping me.”

  Zach looked back suspiciously. “You’re not mad?”

  Chase shook his head. “No. I mean, what else could we have done? I couldn’t have made it all the way back to the stream. And I’m actually kinda impressed.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t think I would have thought of it. You know, finding a place where some dinosaur had taken a leak.”

  Zach grinned. “It was one of my better moments. But I think there’s actually some science to it.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I’ve heard that surfers pee on themselves when they get stung by jellyfish.
Might even pee on each other.” He shrugged. “Urine somehow relieves the pain.”

  “Oh, yuck!” Chase shuddered at the nasty image. And then said sternly: “I don’t care how bad it hurts, I’m not gonna let you pee on me!”

  Zach held up his hands. “Hey, I wasn’t offering, man.”

  He shook his head.

  “It’s just too bad.”

  “What’s too bad?”

  “That I don’t have my cell phone. If I could have gotten a picture of you covered in dinogoo, it’d make the school newspaper for sure. Maybe even the yearbook.”

  Chase made a rude noise. “And I suppose it’d be too much to ask …”

  “Ask what?”

  “Not to mention this? You know, when we get back to school?”

  Zach made a rude noise of his own. “I’m not going to tell anyone.” And then, with a wicked grin: “I’m going to tell everyone!”

  WHEN THEY ARRIVED at the stream, they both jumped into the first pool they came to, boots, clothes, and all. The water was as icy as before, but they both felt a need more pressing than staying warm.

  Zach just did a quick rinse (just to rid himself of the apatosaur urine from earlier in the day) then crawled from the pool to dry in the sun.

  But Chase scrubbed his face and arms, scouring away the caked mud. After several minutes, he crawled from the pool—he’d made it cloudy and muddy—hiked a few yards upstream to the next one, and jumped in again. As he bobbed in the water, he pulled off his boots and threw them up on the rocks.

  “Keep an eye out,” he called to Zach, who was stretched out on a warm rock. “Don’t want anything stealing my clothes!”

  He peeled off his pants, shirt, and socks, washed and wrung everything out the best he could, then tossed them all up on the rocks. Finally, he scooped up handfuls of thick mud and began scouring his bare skin.

  By the time he finally he crawled from the water, he was chilled, shivering and chattering, with goosebumps the size of marshmallows covering his skin.

  He stood shivering on the rocks, wishing the sun was about a hundred degrees hotter, and asked, “Think you could build a fire?”

  “ ’Course I can build a fire.”

  And then, when Zach didn’t move: “Like today, sometime? Before I get pneumonia?”