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  He was just scanning the trail behind him—for the thousandth time—when he realized Zach had stopped. He turned slowly: Zach had his nose up like a see-low sniffing the air.

  His senses on high alert, Chase scanned the trees, then asked, “What is it?”

  Zach didn’t answer for several seconds, but then asked, “You smell anything?”

  Chase took a cautious sniff. At first, he didn’t detect anything unusual. Just the usual rich, earthy smell of the prehistoric forest.

  And fresh dinosaur dung, he thought, picking up the scent of green dino droppings. But that’s normal—

  He caught a whiff of something else.

  Something that didn’t belong.

  “Smoke,” he whispered. “I think there’s been a fire.”

  “Me, too.” Zach pointed. “That way.”

  “Okay.”

  Chase looked up: the pterosaurs were just ahead now, probably right above the mysterious campfire.

  Gotta be somebody there, he thought. Or those things wouldn’t be flying around: they’d be down on the ground, picking through everything in sight.

  He was sure at least a couple of guys were camped ahead, but knew he and Zach had to be careful. He didn’t want to go bursting into the campsite, only to find it was actually full of feeding spike lizards.

  The thought of “feeding” spike lizards turned his stomach—

  Only one thing they’d be feeding on …

  —and he pushed it from his mind.

  Besides, those guys might be as jumpy as we are, he thought. He remembered how he’d gone bursting into Zach’s clearing after his “bath,” nearly scaring his friend out of his clothes, too. Go charging into their campsite unannounced and they might start shooting!

  Then: Wouldn’t that be the ultimate irony? Survive spike lizards, allosaurs, apatosaurs, zachiosaurs, ceratosaurs, dilophosaurs, and fire ferns, only to get shot by some guy with an itchy trigger finger?

  ZACH FROZE AGAIN, then turned and whispered: “I think I heard something. Just ahead.”

  “Something or someone?”

  “Not sure.”

  “Let’s be careful.”

  “Like you really need to tell me that—”

  “Zach—”

  “I know, I know. … I’ll be careful.”

  Zach lowered himself to the ground and began picking his way through the brush on his hands and knees. Chase glanced up through the tree tops—the pterosaurs were still there, just ahead, circling ominously—then followed.

  Close to the ground, the aroma of freshly turned earth, moldering leaves, and decaying vegetation was stronger than ever. But the forest floor was littered with more than old twigs and leaves. He placed his hand into something that had once been inside a dinosaur—

  “Eww, yuck!”

  “Shhhh!” Zach hissed. “They’re gonna hear you!”

  Chase didn’t answer—what could he say?—but reached out and wiped his hand on a rubbery leaf. He rubbed the hand in the dirt to remove the last traces of goo, then wiped it off on the side of his pants.

  He took another look at the trail, making certain the way was clear, then caught up with Zach.

  Zach eased to a spot behind a thick trunk, took a quick peek around the side, then motioned for Chase to come alongside.

  “Something’s moving around just ahead,” Zach whispered.

  “Can you see what it is?”

  “Not yet. I’m gonna crawl a little closer and take a look.”

  “Be careful!”

  “No kidding …”

  Zach closed his eyes, took a couple of deep breaths, then eased to his belly and began army-crawling through the brush. Chase waited a moment, then followed.

  Feel like a ninja, he thought, easing so carefully beneath a fern he didn’t disturb the leaves. He was impressed with his stealth, but he’d no sooner left the fern than something began crawling along the back of his neck.

  He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to endure the discomfort, but the more he tried to ignore it, the worse it became. He tried arching his back, pinching his shoulder blades together, twisting this way and that, but nothing worked. He first thought the bug was nothing more than a curious ant or beetle. But the longer it crawled about, the more certain he became it was the size of a mouse.

  Or maybe even a squirrel!

  Tears filled his eyes, and it was all he could do not to cry out; he had an overwhelming need to scratch himself silly.

  Finally—unable to stand it another second—he sped through the brush and smacked the side of Zach’s boot.

  Zach froze, then looked carefully back. Mouthed, What?

  Chase tried to gesture, then crawled up beside his friend. “There’s something on my back! Inside my shirt!”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know! But get it out!”

  Zach pulled a face as if thinking Chase must be crazy—

  Chase forced himself not to scream in frustration.

  —then rose up on his elbows to take a look. After several seconds—

  What the freak’s he waiting for!

  —he casually reached over and lifted the back of Chase’s shirt. A second later Chase felt him pluck something out and flick it away.

  “Hurry!” Chase begged. “Scratch my back!”

  “What?”

  “Zach, just do it! It’s driving me crazy! And I can’t reach it!”

  “Chase …”

  Chase was out of patience. Through tight, gritted teeth he hissed, “DO … IT!”

  Zach mumbled something inappropriate, but then reached over and began scratching Chase’s back through his shirt, right about where he’d plucked off Bugzilla.

  Chase felt instant relief. His body relaxed and unknotted and slowly began to feel normal again.

  “Oh, man,” he finally whispered. “I know that was weird, but … thanks. Thought I was gonna die.”

  Zach just shrugged. “You owe me, dude. Big time.”

  19 Camp Commando

  SIDE BY SIDE, they crept forward. After just a couple of feet, Chase saw daylight and realized there was a clearing ahead. He thought he might have heard a man’s voice, but couldn’t be certain. Zach gave him a quick look and Chase nodded: I heard it, too.

  More certain than ever there were people ahead—commandos or crew from the jet—Chase wanted to rush in. To see who was there …

  But if he’d learned anything in this crazy place, it was to be careful.

  They crawled another couple of feet, moving slowly, carefully, barely disturbing the brush as they inched along. Zach inadvertently placed a knee on an unseen stick that broke with a sharp snap. It sounded to Chase like a gunshot, though it was probably inaudible from more than a couple of feet away.

  The boys froze, but nothing moved. After several seconds, Zach looked at Chase through the corner of his eye; Chase nodded; they continued crawling. There was a cough—a human cough—followed by a voice. Chase couldn’t understand the words, but he recognized the voice.

  Treeck!

  He glanced at Zach and nodded enthusiastically. They quickly crawled ahead until they were able to peer into the clearing. Chase spotted Treeck right away: the man’s clothing was torn and dirty, his right leg kinked as if painful to stand on. He was holding his rifle, staring into the trees, obviously standing guard.

  Chase peered past a bush and spotted Smith, and Bridger, and Captain King. The four men appeared beaten, battered, and bruised, as if they’d been lost for months rather than a couple of days.

  Zach leaned over so he could whisper in Chase’s ear. “Those your friends?”

  Who else could they be? Chase wondered. But: “Yeah.”

  He pursed his lips; now they were here, he wondered how best to announce themselves.

  Jump up and scream “Boola boola!” and they’ll shoot us full of holes. But …

  He thought for another moment, then whistled softly, like he was calling a dog.

  Nothing happened, so
he tried again, a little more loudly—

  Treeck abruptly looked up, began peering around.

  Chase leaned up on his elbows and in a soft voice said, “Mr. Treeck?”

  Treeck turned around, his hands tight on his weapon. Smith and Bridger had both come to attention, too.

  “Over here,” Chase said. He lifted his hand and waved.

  “Chase? Is that you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chase rose to his knees.

  “Chase! Good heavens, you’re safe!”

  In an instant the four men had surrounded Chase and Zach, looking them up and down, slapping their backs, tussling their hair, thumping their shoulders. It was almost a shock when Smith stepped back and said: “Good lord, kid! What happened to your face?”

  “My face?” Chase reached up, feeling the blisters.

  Oh, yeah!

  “I fell into some nuclear-powered poison ivy.”

  “You okay?”

  “I think so. I think it’s just a bad rash; doesn’t hurt or anything.” He grabbed Zach and pulled him forward. “And this is Zach, in case you haven’t guessed.”

  Treeck had already stepped over to Zach—standing between him and the trees—already protecting him from threat.

  “Mr. Wolff,” Bridger gushed, shaking Zach’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you!”

  “You, too. I can’t tell you how good it is to see you guys.”

  “Well, I have to admit we’re more than a little surprised to see you. All alone out here …”

  “I was actually doing pretty well,” Zach said quipped, “until Chase came to rescue me. Since then, everything’s been a freakin’ nightmare.”

  “Yuk, yuk,” Chase groused. But then: “You guys okay? You look kinda messed up.”

  “We’ve had some … challenges,” Bridger said.

  “What about the others?” Chase asked softly.

  Bridger glanced at Smith, then shook his head.

  He didn’t need to say anything more.

  “Well, come on in,” Treeck said. “You boys hungry?”

  “Only just starving,” Zach said. “It took us four freakin’ tries to get here.”

  THE TEAM DIDN’T have many rations—they’d lost most of their gear in the ceratosaur attack—but as the boys drank Gatorade and chewed down MREs (shredded beef, cheddar-cheese spread, and tortillas, with tasty quick-energy bars for dessert) everyone caught up with one another. Zach told everyone how he’d become lost and then managed to survive on his own, Chase explained how he’d found Zach (along with the whole fire-fern episode), and the commandos gave a highly abbreviated account of the ceratosaur attack. Chase couldn’t help noticing how they downplayed the loss of their friends, and he didn’t embarrass them by asking for details.

  Chase couldn’t help wondering, though, what had happened to Zadina, and Rivers, and Jaffa.

  I’ll ask Bridger sometime, he thought. When he seems like he might be able to handle it.

  “YOU WANT SOMETHING for your face?” Bridger asked Chase a little later. “I have some first-aid cream that might help.”

  “I don’t know. I hate to mess with it, y’know? I mean, the blisters actually give me a little protection, and if any of them burst, who knows what disgusting infection I might pick up?”

  “You’re probably right,” Bridger said, disappointed he wasn’t able to help. But: “I really am glad to see you again. That night … well, it’s hard to believe you got away. And then managed to survive for another two days.”

  “It’s a crazy place,” Chase agreed. He pointed into the sky. “What’s the deal with the pterosaurs?”

  Bridger shot them a sour glare. “Crazy things give me the creeps.”

  He turned to Chase.

  “They haven’t really bothered us. Just circle round and round, like they’re waiting for us to … well, they give me the creeps.”

  “I’m surprised they don’t attack.”

  “I think they would, if they caught us out in the open. Or by ourselves.” He gave Chase a hard look. “Which reminds me: don’t go anywhere by yourself.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I’m serious, kid. Those flaposaurs aren’t the only predators around. And they’re not all humongous stomposaurs able to charge in and gobble up everyone in sight. There are a lot of smaller things, too: they’re smart enough not to attack a whole camp, but if they catch you out by yourself, you’re toast.”

  He lowered his voice a notch.

  “Zadina made it through that first night,” he said softly. “But after we’d set up here, he stepped into the trees for something and … just never came back.”

  Chase felt chills and knew the man wasn’t simply trying to scare him into good behavior.

  He was sincerely worried.

  “What about the others?” Chase asked.

  Bridger shrugged. “Well, you saw some of it. We were just overrun. Overwhelmed. Things came from out of nowhere.”

  Chase just nodded: he already knew.

  TREECK WAS STANDING guard again, and Zach was talking with Captain King—the only man he already knew—waving his hands back and forth and obviously recounting his adventures in Callovian Country.

  Smith was standing over a pile of supplies, looking things over and scowling. Chase walked over and said, “I’m sorry about your men.”

  Smith looked at him and nodded. “This kind of work, that sorta thing happens sometimes.”

  He lowered his voice.

  “But it’s never happened to me before. Not like this.”

  Despite the circumstances, Chase felt a rumble of … he wasn’t certain if it was appreciation, or gratitude, or warmth. But he realized the gruff man had just confided in him. Told him something he wouldn’t tell his own men.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Chase responded, keeping his voice low. “No one could have known what was going to happen. And no one has ever, ever, trained for something like this. Not with dinosaurs.”

  An odd expression crossed Smith’s face, and Chase guessed the man didn’t know how to react to the compliment. Especially from a kid. In the end, the man simply held out a gloved fist and—with a grin—Chase gave it a quick bump.

  “So what’s next?” Chase asked. “What are we going to do now?”

  Smith gave a sort of one-shouldered shrug, and Chase knew his arm must have been injured.

  “We’ve still got a few days before we can expect a rescue, so our mission is to hang on ’til then.”

  Chase could tell from his tone the man was extremely sensitive about the need to be rescued. “Have we got enough supplies?”

  Another scowl. “We weren’t able to salvage much. We’ve got some MREs, a few quick-energy bars. Not as many as we’d like, but probably enough to get by. Water’s gonna run low, but maybe we can find a fresh stream somewhere.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “And we’re low on ammunition. Food and water we can skimp on. But once we run out of ammo …”

  He didn’t finish the sentence.

  “Zach and I know where there’s a stream,” Chase said. “There’s plenty of water and Zach’s pretty good at spearing fish. That’s all I’ve eaten for the past two days, but that would take care of our food and water problem.”

  Smith nodded thoughtfully. “We’ll talk it over. Might be a good way to stretch things out.” Then: “Thanks.”

  Chase nodded, then left to visit Treeck.

  “Are you allowed to talk while you’re standing guard?”

  “ ’S long as I keep watching the woods.”

  “I could help you watch.”

  Treeck’s lips moved in what might have been an attempt at a smile.

  “Stand right there and face me,” Treeck said, pointing to a spot just ahead and slightly to the side of him. Chase did as he was told and Treeck explained: “Now we can see each other while we talk. I’ll watch the trees behind you, and you watch the forest behind me. If I turn, you turn with me: that way we’ve got the whole p
erimeter covered.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Chase had wanted to help. But now that he was actually standing guard he felt an incredible weight on his shoulders: he was now partially responsible for everyone’s safety.

  Screw up now, and someone’s gonna die … and it’ll be my fault.

  He scoured the trees with renewed intensity.

  “You okay?” he asked. “You’ve got blood on your pants. And you’re limping.”

  “Been better.”

  “Want me to take a look?”

  Treeck scowled, but then seemed to remember what Chase had done for Bridger. “Got to stand watch for another hour,” he said. “Then, yeah. Let you give me a once-over … Doc.”

  “You got it.”

  Treeck squinted. “Glad you’re here, though. Think you’re gonna be our new secret weapon.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve got the scariest-looking face I’ve ever seen. Next patrol, we’ll put you out front and let you scare off all the dinosaurs—”

  “Yuk, yuk.”

  “Seriously, kid. Don’t think they’d even give you a guest spot on The Walking Dead: you look too spooky—”

  “Yeah, I get the idea,” Chase groused. But he knew the man was just trying to lighten the mood, and Chase appreciated him for it.

  “What’s this fire fern look like?”

  “Like a big burdock leaf, but huge.” Chase spread his arms wide to illustrate. “And it’s covered with sticky, shiny stuff that makes it look wet.”

  Treeck nodded thoughtfully. “You see one, you point it out to me.”

  “Gotcha.”

  The man faked a shudder.

  “I’m serious … I come back looking like you, Smith’ll shoot me just to put me outta my misery.”

  Chase pulled a face. “Yuk, yuk.”

  20 Doc McCord

  CHASE STOOD GUARD with Treeck until Bridger took over, then led him to an old log and had him sit. Then, kneeling in the dirt, he rolled the man’s pants up over his knee. There was already a makeshift bandage in place, but it was bloody and dirty and in need of a change. Chase removed it as carefully as he could, but the dressing had dried to the scab and Chase had to use his Swiss Army knife to peel it off.