Time Crunch Page 14
Zach pulled a face, but quickly gathered armfuls of dry wood and then made a nest of thin shavings. When everything was ready, he took the knife from his pocket, smacked it against a chunk of flint, and quickly had wisps of smoke rising into the air. The wood was dry enough that—combined with the rich oxygenated atmosphere—the fire was quickly snapping away.
Chase stood as close as he dared, too cold to be much help. But Zach piled on more wood, fueling the flames until Chase had to take a couple of steps back from the heat.
“You look funny,” Zach said as he placed several thick, dry sticks on the crackling flames.
“I’m naked, stupid.”
“If I was talking about your being naked, I would have said ridiculous.” Zach pointed. “But look at your arms. I think those fire ferns really burned your skin.”
Chase looked. His arms were still wrapped around himself as he tried to keep warm. But they had turned a startling shade of red, speckled with splotches of white.
“Your face is the same way,” Zach said. “Does it hurt?”
“Not anymore.” Chase rubbed his arms, but the sensation of burning had disappeared. Even so, it looked like he had the world’s worst sunburn. “Did this happen to you?”
“Huh-uh. But then, I didn’t have it as bad as you.”
Zach stepped up for a better look. “If it doesn’t hurt, then you’re probably okay. I mean, maybe it’s just a reaction, like a rash.”
“I hope.”
Zach blew out his breath, then glanced up at the sun. “It’s getting late enough that we probably ought to wait ’til tomorrow before we go looking for your friends again. What do you think?”
Chase nodded. “Yeah, I’d hate to get caught in the middle of nowhere when it gets dark.”
“You got that right.”
THE BOYS HELD Chase’s clothes over the fire to dry them out, and Zach came up with an idea for drying his boots.
“Check it out,” he said, using a stick to roll a baseball-sized stone from the coals. He set one of Chase’s boots sideways, rolled the rock inside, then placed the boot upright again. He then did the same for the second boot.
“You watch,” he said. “By the time your clothes are dry, your boots will be, too.”
Chase was impressed. “How’d you know how to do that?”
Zach shrugged modestly. “Spend enough time in dinosaur country and you learn a few things.”
ZACH WAS RIGHT. By the time Chase’s clothes were dry, his boots were nice and toasty, too. But he was worried about his skin: tiny, mosquito-bite-sized blisters had begun erupting in the worst patches of red. They were gross, yeah … really gross.
But at least they don’t hurt.
He dressed in dry, moderately clean clothes for the second time in about as many hours, then followed Zach back to camp.
“Home Sweet Hole-in-the-Rock,” Zach announced. He glanced around with little appreciation. “I was hoping I wouldn’t see this place again.”
“It’s not so bad,” Chase said. “I spent part of last night in a fancy tent with a fluffy sleeping bag and surrounded by commandos with machine guns. And look how that turned out.”
“ ’Spose. You hungry?”
“ ’Spose,” Chase said, mimicking his friend’s slang. “Got anything besides fish?”
“Sure. Got a nice meat-lover’s with pineapple, but it’s SITTING AT HOME IN MY MOM’S KITCHEN!”
He shouted the last part so loud Chase actually jumped. He stared at Zach in alarm, but then both boys burst out laughing.
“Jeez, Louise, man! Don’t do that! You just scared ten years off my life.”
Zach grinned. “Well, here’s our choices. We can go spear some more fish. That’s pretty easy, unless the sight of you swimming naked scared ’em all the way back to some Mesozoic ocean. Or,” he went on before Chase could retort, “we could scavenge up some bugs—I know where to find a bunch of furry caterpillars—or we could go hunting for roadkill: wash off the allosaur spit and char-broil a couple of thick dino steaks.”
“So fish it is.”
“Yeah, I was afraid you’d say that.”
ZACH GOT SERIOUS with his spear, and it wasn’t long before they had several nice-looking sunfish, and one long, skinny thing Zach thought might be the Callovian equivalent of a brook trout. Chase built the fire—using flint and steel, just for the experience—and they were soon chewing on fresh, charcoal-flavored fish.
“I wonder if you could get a merit badge for any of this,” Zach said, picking slender bones from a wedge of golden-brown fish. “I mean, with all the primitive cooking, camping, fire-building, tracking, and”—he shot a worried look at Chase’s face and arms—“first aid, there’s got to be a rank advancement here somewhere.”
“I know, right?” Then: “What I’d like to do is find some never-discovered dinosaur, like your zachiosaur. Something I can see in books and museums and say, ‘I discovered that!’ ”
Zach waved a hand. “They’re all over the place, man! Those little flying monsters that stole my fish this morning? I don’t think they’re in any books. And unless it’s a see-low, neither’s that thing that tried eating your boots. You could call it Bootosaurus.”
“Bootosaurus rex.”
“Velocibooter …”
“Tricerasocks?”
“Okay, stop it … that’s too dumb for words.”
Chase grinned. “I’d still like to find a tooth or a claw to take home.”
“You’re really hooked on that, huh?”
“Well, you know me …”
Zach nodded: Chase had once found a piece of fossilized tyrannosaur tooth, and until a couple of months ago had carried it everywhere, like a good luck charm.
“Could probably find one if we looked around,” Zach said. “But if we find one—a tooth or a claw, I mean—I want to pull it out of a half-eaten isanosaur, and not out of the back of your butt. Or mine.”
“Amen to that.”
WHEN THE SUN set a little later, Chase expected the air to chill, but it remained warm and humid.
Hmmmm, he thought. I didn’t notice that last night. ’Course, I had a lot on my mind, and those bonfires were pretty warm.
The buzzing of insects never waned, but with the darkness came new sounds: the croak of frogs and the drone of … crickets.
Millions of them.
Everywhere.
Joining the buzzing of bugs in a soothing, relaxing thrum-thrum-thrum.
Huh, he thought. He wasn’t certain, but thought grasshoppers and crickets first appeared in the Mesozoic. So they’re pretty new on scene.
But …
He wasn’t certain if that fact was universally accepted, or if he’d cause a stir going home and telling everyone.
The night sounds were soothing and relaxing. But the most amazing thing was the sky, and all the night stars.
There were billions of them!
Chase knew that anyway, but back home a lot of the stars were blocked out by lights from the city and pollution in the sky.
But here …
The sky was as clean and clear as sparkling spring water, black as wet ink. Chase thought he could easily see three, or even four times the number of stars he could see at home. The stars shimmered and sparkled in the blackness, looking more beautiful than any he’d ever seen.
The Milky Way was clearly visible, the Great Rift absolutely distinct, though not quite in the right place.
A 165 million years will do that, he thought, knowing the stars were constantly moving and changing position.
The other thing was that he couldn’t identify a single constellation. Chase loved stars, and on a clear night could identify dozens of constellations. But right here and right now … not a one.
So if the Great Rift is there, he thought, peering into the blackness. Then Cygnus the Swan should be …
He shook his head.
It wasn’t there. And neither was his favorite constellation, Delphinus the Dolphin.
&n
bsp; Those are probably the right stars, he thought. But because the universe is expanding, their positions are constantly changing … they won’t look the way I’m used to for a long, long, time.
“What’cha thinking about,” Zach asked, poking a stick into the fire.
“Just looking at the stars.”
“Lot of ’em.” Zach stirred the fire, sending up a shower of sparks. “The thing that amazes me is that the light from some stars takes millions, maybe even billions of years to get here. And during those millions of years, the star might have exploded, or shrunk itself into a black hole, so it’s no longer there. So when you look at the sky, you might be looking at stars that don’t even exist anymore.”
Chase gave his friend an odd look, then glanced up again.
Leave it Zach to put the world’s strangest spin on something.
16 The Third Trip
AS THEY SAT around the fire, Chase began to feel sleepy.
He wasn’t sure if it was from the soothing sound of crickets, from all the running and hiking, his experience with the fire ferns, the extra-rich oxygen, the stress of fleeing dinosaurs, or a combination of everything. But he kept nodding off and knew he was in danger of falling into the campfire.
“I don’t know about you,” he finally said. “But I’m ready to turn in.”
“Well around here, things just get creepier at night. So once the sun goes down it’s best to hole up.”
Zach showed the way to his hole in the rocks. And he hadn’t been exaggerating. It was a nice, snug, comfortable place … for one person.
For two people—
“It’s a good thing we’re friends,” Zach quipped as they jostled and jiggled against the rocks, trying to find a way they could both fit. The space was tighter than the roots they’d squirmed into earlier. They turned and twisted and wiggled this way and that, and eventually managed to wedge themselves into the tiny crevasse so that they both had a little room.
“It was probably like this during the early days of space travel,” Zach said. “You know, during the Gemini Program. They’d put two guys in an itty-bitty rocket with no room to turn around and launch them into space … just to see if two guys could really live that way.”
“Uh-huh.” Chase was too sleepy to say anything else. He breathed in and out, feeling himself nodding off.
No, it’s not the best way to sleep, he thought. But Zach was right about something else.
He was sure nothing would be able to get at them.
CHASE WOKE several times during the night, usually to find one of Zach’s elbows digging into his side, which was still bruised and sore.
Jeez, he thought, wiggling around, trying to find a way to be comfortable. I’d give ten bucks to be back in that mummy bag they gave me.
But then he remembered what had happened to that mummy bag and quickly decided the tiny, rocky crevasse wasn’t so bad.
BY MORNING, Chase was stiff and sore and creaky as an old chair. Part of it, he knew, was from sleeping on the rocks and being cramped and unable to stretch out.
But much of it was from the stressful workout of the past two days. From the endless hiking, running, crawling, jumping, and hiding. He’d never felt so completely thrashed, and couldn’t help wishing he had another couple of Bridger’s ibuprofen.
Or a whole handful.
He twisted around, wiggled about, and finally extricated himself from the tight crevasse without waking Zach. As soon as he was free, he stretched, trying to work out the kinks. He was so stiff he was certain he could hear his joints popping and crackling.
He scratched at his ear, then climbed on top of the rocks for a look around. At the moment, there wasn’t a lot to see—
Nope! There’s a bunch of pterosaurs near the mountains.
He glanced in the direction they’d heard the gunshot the day before, but the pterosaurs they’d seen there had moved on.
The crickets that lulled him to sleep during the night had become quiet, but the buzz of diurnal bugs was in full swing.
Can’t believe how I don’t even notice it anymore.
He couldn’t help wondering what it would be like if there was no sound at all.
AFTER A COUPLE of minutes he heard a scratch on the rock and turned to see Zach crawling from the crevasse, his hair exploded in all directions as if he’d been freshly electrocuted.
Zach was rubbing his eyes sleepily. He stretched like a dog after a long nap—
Jeez, had no idea he could stretch that far!
—then yawned, his mouth opening like—
Zach abruptly gasped, then began spitting and pawing at his mouth, turning and twisting and gyrating like his pants were full of ants.
“Ah, ick, blah, ugh!”
He spit, and spit, and then spit again. He shook his head as if ridding it of a horrible image, and gave a huge shudder.
Chase was laughing so hard he nearly lost his grip and fell from the rock.
“Wha—what’s wrong?”
“A bug”—Zach spit again, then stamped on the dirt as if smashing something—“a bug flew right into my mouth!”
He shuddered again, then lifted his shirt and used it to wipe his tongue.
“Ugh! Nasty!” He finally seemed to gain control, then glanced up at Chase. His jaw dropped and his eyes flew wide. “Holy cow, dude! What happened to your face?”
“Huh?” Chase reached up and touched his cheek, feeling several small bumps like mosquito bites—
Still got a few blisters …
—but they didn’t hurt or anything. He looked down at his arms—
What the—
His arms were as red as beets, dozens of milky-white blisters standing out in stark contrast. He looked back and forth between his arms like he was tracking the ball in a vigorous game of ping pong. He glanced frantically at Zach, feeling a rush of panic.
“What happened? What is it?”
“Don’t freak out,” Zach cautioned, though he looked as worried as Chase. “It’s probably just a reaction to the fire fern.”
Chase began panting, still looking from one arm to the other, rubbing the pustules as if making certain they were real. “You think I’ve got some weird dinosaur disease? I mean, I was rubbing apatosaur pee on them!”
“Naw.” Zach stepped a little closer; he seemed worried about getting too close, but finally leaned in for a better look. “It doesn’t hurt?”
“No! Doesn’t even itch.”
“Well, see? There you go. Just a reaction to the fire fern. You got a pretty huge dose, and your skin’s reacting to it. Heck, it’s probably a good thing: just means your body’s still fighting it off.”
Chase relaxed a little. It certainly looked horrible—
Can’t imagine what my face looks like!
—but since it didn’t hurt …
Maybe it’s not as bad as it looks.
He pressed down on his skin: the spot turned white, but instantly turned red again when he lifted his finger.
Look like a freakin’ lobster! But maybe Zach’s right: It’s like a bad sunburn that doesn’t happen to hurt.
“Probably want to get it cleared up before we get back to school,” Zach said cheerfully. “Or Becca Hemingway won’t come anywhere near you.”
Chase shot his friend a look that—if his eyes could shoot laser beams—would have blasted him to smithereens. He and Becca had just become a “thing,” and he still wasn’t secure in the relationship.
“No fair,” he snapped. But he knew Zach was right. Becca was extremely correct, and proper, even for an eighth grader: the mere sight of his red, blistered skin would send her screaming away.
“We could try rubbing a little more dino goop on it,” Zach suggested. “That made it feel better …”
“Don’t think so. That might be what caused it.”
Chase thought for a moment, then carefully unrolled his shirt sleeves to cover his arms. He wasn’t sure if that would do them any good, but figured it wouldn’t hurt.
“You wanna catch a couple fish? Get something to eat?”
Chase pulled a face. It would have been nice to eat something. But the thought of more fish didn’t sound appetizing.
“I don’t know. Maybe we ought to get heading for those rocky hills again. Maybe find some berries or something on the way.”
“Good with me.”
THE BOYS STOPPED at the stream, taking a minute to get a drink and splash a little water over their faces, then struck off on the trail they’d taken the day before. Looking closely, Chase saw different groups of pterosaurs soaring over the forest. It seemed there were always a bunch of them somewhere, and they were so much a part of the view his eye now simply accepted them.
No longer think of them as something to ooh and aah over.
When they reached the spot with the fire ferns they walked carefully around. Chase noted there were actually several thick patches, but that they blended so well with the other plants they didn’t stand out unless he was looking for them.
There were plenty of honks, hoots, trumpets, cries, cackles, and calls from the forest, but nothing that sounded ominous or frightening.
Just the normal sounds of the forest waking up.
Still, when he factored out the carnivores that were certainly out there—predators big enough to swallow you whole and still be hungry—it was an exciting place. An exotic forest filled with strange trees and unusual plants and all sorts of bizarre, outlandish creatures.
And after just two days, I’m already getting used to it all. I’m no longer awed by the roar of allosaurs or the rumble of apatosaurs.
He realized he needed to adjust his way of thinking, not wanting to become so accustomed to things that he stopped appreciating the experience.
He looked around and right away spotted an enormous dragonfly. The thing had a wingspan three feet across, Chase could actually hear the hum of its lacy wings. And yet the bug floated around with the grace of a feather caught in a breath of wind.
Huge centipedes and millipedes skittered back and forth over the forest floor, and while Chase wouldn’t want one crawling over him in the night, they were fun to watch. He realized the bugs could—and probably did—feed on lizards and mice. But what made his skin crawl was picturing the creatures big enough to feed on them.