Time Crunch Page 20

“Aaaaaiiiigggghh!”

  —hopping around in the brush and flapping his arms like a pterosaur going for takeoff.

  “Aaaaaiiiigggghh!”

  Smith and Treeck kept their weapons trained on Zach—trying to spot the threat—though Bridger turned and swept the forest behind them: Chase couldn’t yet tell what was happening.

  “Aaaaaiiiigggghh!”

  Zach frantically began slapping himself, dancing around and stomping the ground. Chase thought fire ferns! but could see no sign of the horrible burning plants.

  “Aah … aah … aah …”

  Zach was finally winding down, though the three commandos still had their weapons up and ready—fingers on triggers—ready to blast to pieces anything that moved.

  Zach abruptly made fists with both hands, screwed his eyes shut, and shuddered like a kid anticipating a face-first leap into a steaming pile of juicy-green dino dung.

  Chase was still on his butt, looking bewildered. But finally realizing Zach wasn’t being crunched down by a buggy-eyed freakodactyl, he asked, “Wha—what’s wrong?”

  “Centipede!” Zach shouted. He flapped his arms, wrapped them around himself, then flapped them again. “Crawled right up my freakin’ leg! Thought it was gonna—”

  He shuddered again, shaking like a dog flinging water off a shaggy coat, then stamped on the ground, again and again and again.

  “Ewww, ick! Yuck!”

  He spit, as if thinking he’d somehow ingested centipede slime.

  The men finally lowered their weapons, but still scanned the woods as if unconvinced they weren’t actually under attack.

  Chase rose and walked over to see for himself that Zach was okay.

  “Gaaaaw … eeeewwwww!” Zach said. He began slapping at his pants, making certain there wasn’t another creepy crawly making a surreptitious assault.

  Chase saw a puddle of mashed goo in the dirt.

  Probably what’s left of some huge Callovian centipede!

  He finally grinned.

  “That would be kinda funny, huh? Survive allosaurs and ceratosaurs, only to lose you to a centipede?”

  “It’s not funny,” Zach snapped, still shuddering. “It was up my leg! I thought it was gonna—”

  Treeck mumbled something to Smith, and the two men made a gravelly sound that Chase figured was some kind of soldierly chortle.

  That didn’t make ’em laugh? Jeez, Louise … what’s it gonna take?

  He suddenly had an idea.

  He waited until Zach turned, then reached out with a length of grass and tickled the back of his friend’s neck.

  “Aaaaaiiiigggghh!”

  Zach leaped into the air, flapping his arms and slapping his neck and kicking his legs like he was covered with ants.

  Chase laughed so hard he lost his balance and fell to his knees. Bridger, too, was doubled over, his hand on his belly, nearly choking as he roared. Chase looked back and knew—he knew—he saw a sparkle in Smith’s eyes, though he and Treeck were nevertheless doing nothing more than twitching their lips a little.

  Jeez, Chase thought. Tough crowd …

  ZACH FINALLY STOPPED flailing around, realizing he’d been had. He scowled at Chase with a look that—if his eyes were rocket launchers—would have blasted Chase into outer space.

  “Not funny!” he growled. But then he looked sheepishly at Smith. “Um, sorry ’bout that.”

  “No problem,” Smith said in his gravelly voice. “I have the same reaction every time I see Bridger’s face first thing in the morning.”

  “Hey!” Bridger responded, feigning offense.

  A joke! Chase thought in amazement. Smith just cracked a joke!

  And then: Finally! Making some progress!

  WHEN THEY REACHED the stream—and then Zach’s hideout—Smith nodded in approval.

  “Good spot. Easy to defend.”

  He clapped a hand on Zach’s shoulder.

  “See now how you lasted all this time. Smart kid like you makes a heckuva strong addition to the team.”

  Zach beamed proudly, and instantly stood a little taller.

  If it was night, I’d be able to read a book from the glow on his face, Chase thought, knowing his friend wasn’t mad about being laughed at earlier. Smith obviously knew how bad Zach was hurting, and was doing what he could to make him feel better.

  Chase felt a rumble of gratitude, along with increased respect for the man.

  The men stored their meager supplies in a cleft in the rocks, then took all the empty canteens back to the stream to fill. Zach demonstrated his fish-spearing routine, and with Chase and Bridger helping, quickly had a pile of fresh fish.

  “But”—Zach cautioned, a little more confidently now they were all back on “his” turf—“don’t leave any fish scraps around. Gotta burn everything we don’t eat. Anything that smells will attract predators.”

  Back at camp, Chase and Zach built a fire—Zach demonstrated his “sandwich-bag” method to everyone’s astonishment (everyone oohed and aahed, and Chase realized the men were sincerely impressed, and not just trying to bolster the kid’s spirits)—then cleaned and cooked the fish as the men scouted the area and kept watch.

  “NOT TOO BAD,” Bridger said a little later after polishing off a juicy, lightly browned Callovian sunfish. “Sure beats another MRE. A little lemon-cream sauce and this would be right tasty.”

  Chase took several pieces of fish over to Treeck—who was standing guard—and helped keep watch as the man ate.

  “How’s your leg?” Chase asked.

  “Trying to be careful with it. But, you know, easier said than done.”

  “Does it hurt? I saw you limping a couple times while we were hiking.”

  “Little bit. But it’s feeling better.”

  “Be nice if we could get some ice on it. But I wouldn’t let it get wet: don’t want any weird bugs seeping in.”

  “Roger that.”

  Chase suddenly cocked his head in surprise, then pointed to a nearby tree branch where the strangest creature he’d ever seen had just crept into view.

  “What the heck—”

  The creature was a skinny, bright-green lizard about six inches long. Its rear legs were about twice the length of its forelegs, which forced its back end up in the air as it crawled. But the most unusual thing were seven plumes that rose from its back. Shaped like golf clubs, Chase first thought they were feathers, but quickly realized they were probably quills, arranged in a row like the spines of a fan. The quills were bright and colorful, brilliant purple where they left the spine but changing to blue, red, orange, and yellow toward the tip.

  Chase laughed out loud.

  “That is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!”

  The lizard calmly regarded Chase and Treeck for a moment, then snatched up a passing bug with a long, well-aimed tongue.

  “I’ll be darned,” Treeck said.

  “Man, I’d love to take it home with me,” Chase said. “Can you imagine taking something like that to school? My biology teacher would freak out!”

  “Check it out,” Treeck said, pointing with the muzzle of his gun. “There’s another one.”

  Sure enough, a second quill lizard was just emerging from the foliage, its quills shimmering like a thin, iridescent rainbow.

  “That’s so cool,” Chase repeated. He glanced around and added: “You know, it would actually be pretty nice around here if it weren’t for, you know …”

  “Yeah,” Treeck agreed. “Be fun to camp out and hike around and see the sights if you didn’t have to worry about whatever might be sneaking up behind you.”

  “You, ah, probably see a lot of stuff like this, don’t you?” Chase asked. “I mean, not with dinosaurs, obviously. But you’ve been in a lot of dangerous places.”

  Treeck nodded. “More than I care to think about.”

  “Why do you do it?”

  Treeck gave him a thoughtful glance. “Sometimes it’s not a matter of choosing to do something. It’s a matter of som
ething choosing you.”

  Chase frowned and Treeck added: “This is what I’m good at. Doesn’t really matter if I like it: it’s what I was made for.” He handed Chase a chunk of fish. “And can you really see me working in an office? Wearing a suit and tie?”

  Chase grinned as he popped the fish into his mouth. “Guess not.”

  The two surveyed the lush Callovian landscape for several minutes. Chase spotted several groups of pterosaurs soaring in the distance and wondered what had happened to those circling the commandos’ camp.

  Probably busy rooting through everything we left behind.

  “You have a family?” he asked.

  Treeck looked down, then shook his head. “Naw.”

  “Why not?”

  “Not much of a life for a family man,” he said. “Some of the guys have families. But more often than not, things don’t work out. Doesn’t seem fair to do that to a wife, or kids.”

  Huh, Chase thought. And instantly decided: I’m inviting him over for Thanksgiving … Smith and Bridger, too, if they want to come.

  SMITH WANDERED over and said to Treeck: “Just made a quick ammo check—”

  “Not good?”

  “Seen better. Gonna have to take it easy.”

  Chase knew without asking what they were facing.

  If we try saving ammo the next time we’re in trouble, we might not be able to drive off whatever’s there. But if we fire away like there’s no tomorrow, we won’t have enough to fight off a second attack.

  Chase knew Smith probably didn’t like discussing bad news in front of a kid, but appreciated him for not holding things back.

  “Got good position here,” Treeck pointed out. “Lot better than before. Might not have much trouble.”

  “Thought of that; could be right.”

  “I hope so.”

  Smith looked at Chase.

  “You two see anything big when you were here before?”

  “Not like last night. There are predators”—he remembered the five-foot dinosaur playing with his boots (Coelophysis, was it?)—“but nothing bothered us.”

  “Well, let’s hope it stays that way,” Treeck said. “But, you know, hope for the best—”

  “But plan for the worst.” Smith nodded. He looked back at Chase. “You have any thoughts?”

  “Oughtta talk to Zach,” he suggested. “He was on his own for a while, and he’s got a good feeling for what’s out there. Knows where most of the scary things hang out. Knows their territory.”

  “Good idea,” Smith said, glancing back. “I’ll do that right now.”

  Treeck looked at Chase as Smith strode away.

  “Zach doing okay?” he asked. “Could tell he and King were pretty tight.”

  “Yeah, I think so. Zach’s tough. He can act like a real goofball, and he’s a total idiot any time there’s a cute girl in the room. But … he’ll be okay.”

  He gave his friend a quick glance. As Smith walked over, Zach was chatting with Bridger, both of them grinning widely and making expansive gestures as they swapped outrageous stories.

  Two of a kind, he thought.

  “And how about you?” Treeck asked. “You’ve been through a lot, too. How you holding up?”

  Chase sighed.

  “Well, it’s actually not my first rodeo,” he said. “Zach and I went through something like this a couple months ago.”

  “Yeah. I read a report.”

  “Then you know. Saw some pretty bad stuff, but didn’t lose anyone close … no one that I really knew.”

  Treeck nodded. “Best not to think about it. Once we get outta here … well, once we get home we can mourn and do whatever needs to be done. But right here and right now we’ve gotta stay focused. Stay sharp. Don’t let things get to you.”

  “Good advice. Thanks.”

  23 Fishing Contest

  ZACH CLIMBED TO the top of the rocks with Smith, and began pointing in different directions, telling the man where he’d seen certain animals and where they were likely to find the most dangerous predators. Chase already felt enormous respect for Smith, and the feeling increased as he watched. Though many people would have looked upon Zach as a “goofy kid,” Smith was listening intently.

  Like he’s being briefed by the world’s foremost authority on dinosaurs, Chase thought.

  Smith asked a few questions, listened closely to the answers, and asked Zach for suggestions.

  And Zach’s just eating it up, Chase thought. Whether intentionally or not, he knew Smith had infused his friend with immense pride, and confidence.

  After several minutes, Smith came down from the rocks.

  “What do you think?” Chase asked.

  “I think we’re in as good a spot as we’re going to find.” And: “You were right: your friend’s pretty smart.”

  “It surprises people,” Chase said. “He has a way of making people think he’s kind of a goober. But he’s smarter than I am. His geometry teacher tried to give him a C on a big test last year—”

  “Oh?”

  Chase nodded. “Zach had all the answers right, but did everything in his head. Didn’t show any of the work. Finally convinced the teacher to change his grade, though.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Yeah. He fools people, but I learned a long time ago that when he tells you something, he’s usually right.” Chase hesitated, then asked: “What are the chances you’d let me’n Zach carry guns?”

  Smith didn’t answer right away.

  “Wouldn’t be my first choice,” he said, finally. And then: “It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s a matter of experience. We’ve all had extensive training, and we literally fired thousands of rounds before being allowed to carry. We’ve learned to take our weapons apart and put ’em back together blindfolded … literally, with blindfolds. And after all that, we still have to qualify on the range once a month.”

  “Yeah, I get that,” Chase said. “Just thought that, you know, in a pinch—if things really get bad—we might be able to help.”

  Smith looked down, meeting Chase’s eyes, and Chase felt an odd sensation, as if the man was looking into his soul and reading his mind. He felt like he was being X-rayed.

  After what seemed an eternity, Smith looked away and barked, “Bridger!”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Break out a couple of spare weapons. I want these boys to know how to handle them … just in case.”

  THE COMPACT machine guns were more complicated than Chase imagined. But he’d fired rifles, shotguns, and even muzzleloaders at Scout camp and knew most of the basics.

  “You’ve got three firing modes,” Bridger explained. He showed the boys the selector switch. “You can fire single shot: you know, boom, boom, boom, one shot every time you pull the trigger.”

  He pointed.

  “But this second setting gives you a three-shot burst: every time you pull the trigger it fires three quick shots: ba-ba-boom, ba-ba-boom. Like that.”

  Chase nodded. He’d heard the different sounds during previous firefights.

  “The last setting is fully automatic: weapon fires continuously as long as you’re pulling the trigger.” Bridger shook his head. “Wouldn’t recommend that one. Burns through ammunition. You can run a clip dry”—he snapped his fingers—“like that.”

  “What do you recommend then?”

  “Just to keep things simple, keep it on three-shot burst.”

  “Okay.”

  Bridger was a good teacher, and by the time he was done Chase felt sure he could handle one of the lethal weapons … if he ever needed to.

  THERE WAS A soft whistle, and Chase looked back to see Treeck gesturing. He walked over with Zach, and Treeck pointed.

  “Couple more of your little friends,” the man said with a nod.

  Zach’s eyes popped when he spotted the colorful quilled lizards. “Whoa! Those’re awesome!”

  “You know what they are?” Chase asked.

  “No …” Zach’s e
yes suddenly flashed and he snapped his fingers. “Longisquama.”

  “Longawhosus?”

  “Lon-guh-squaw-muh,” Zach pronounced. “Really, really rare. I don’t think a complete skeleton’s ever been found, but I’ve seen pictures. Even so … they’re so cool!”

  As they watched the strange-looking lizards, Chase saw something else. A wide, flat lizard had emerged from a tiny fissure and was crawling across the face of the rock. It resembled a modern-day horny toad, but was nearly six inches long. He’d just pointed it out to Zach when … well, it looked like a bird with black and white feathers, but it had a lizard’s head and didn’t have wings. The bird-thing darted out of the brush, snatched up the lizard—

  An upright, turkey-sized dinosaur raced out of the trees and seized the bird-thing. It shook the bird violently—loosing a flurry of feathers into the air—then turkey, bird, and lizard vanished back into the brush.

  “Whoa!” Chase and Zach exclaimed together.

  “Nasty,” Treeck said. “Didn’t need to see that.”

  “I know, right?” Chase said. “And just when I was starting to think this was a nice place again …”

  “Nature’s way,” Treeck said. “Same thing goes on back home; just don’t see it as often.”

  “Big difference is, back home we’re not like that bird-thing … we’re not the ones in the middle of the food chain.”

  “There’s that,” Treeck agreed.

  BRIDGER CAME OVER with a happy grin on his face.

  “What’s going—whoa!” He’d just spotted the quill lizards. “What in the world are those?”

  “Sweet, aren’t they?” Zach asked. He seemed to have formed an attachment to the easy-going commando. “I think they’re called longisquama.”

  “Cute little buggers, aren’t they?”

  “Yeah. I’d like to pick one up but, you know, you never know when something’s going to have toxic skin or a wicked bite.”

  “They’d sure be a hit back home. Be the pride of any zoo in the world.” He shook his head in wonder. Then: “Smith wants to know what everyone wants for dinner.”

  “What are the options?”

  “Well, we have a choice between MREs … and fish.”

  Zach pursed his lips, as if choosing between filet mignon and fresh lobster with lemon butter. “What kind of MREs we got?”