Time Crunch Page 8
He continued scanning the landscape. He hoped to spot smoke from the jet or the campfires. But there was nothing to be seen. Nothing but miles and miles of deep, green forest. No sign of the jet, or Smith, or Treeck, or any of the others.
Wonder if they’re still there, he thought grimly. He remembered when he first realized the shooting had stopped, remembered wondering if the men had driven off the animals … or if the animals had overrun them.
Possibly killing everyone.
He looked even harder for some sign that someone was still out there. He couldn’t see anything, but:
Still not sure where they are … don’t know for sure which way to look.
He thought about Zach. He still had a feeling like a sixth sense or something, telling him his friend was still alive.
He’s too goofy not to be alive!
But after what happened yesterday—and last night—he knew better than ever how difficult it would be for a kid to remain alive out here.
Especially by himself.
Heck, a whole squad of guys with machine guns got wiped out in a single day!
Chase’s lip trembled as he thought about them. He remembered how Bridger had come asking for advice about his itching.
And how Treeck—gruff as he was—had taken him under his wing and looked after him.
Even how Smith had listened to Chase’s thoughts and ideas, as if a fourteen-year-old kid could actually be an expert on the Mesozoic world.
Man, they all accepted me. Went out of their way to make me feel part of the team.
The year before, a travelling baseball team invited Chase along on an out-of-state trip. It was just a one-time deal (one of their pitchers was out of town). And while the kids had all been nice, Chase never felt he was really one of them. Never felt he was anything more than a temporary replacement.
But these guys were different. They not only made me feel welcome, they made me feel needed.
He shook it off and reassessed his situation, kicking himself for running out of the tent without his pack.
And his headset.
And his flashlight.
Of all the stupid—
He shook off the negative thoughts.
Heck, dinosaur was just two shakes from choking me down like last week’s meatloaf! If I’d taken any longer—if I’d taken time to pack—I might be nothing more than a squishy lump of hamburger in some dinosaur’s belly.
He shook his head, knowing what was happening to him. Lost and alone—with no idea how he was getting out of there—he was filled with ANTs: Automatic Negative Thoughts.
The negative, distracting, defeating thoughts that always seemed to creep in when times were tough.
Can’t let ’em get to me, he thought. No more ANTs!
He actually had a plan for dealing with them. At Scout camp he’d once had to hike through the forest at night and alone to reach an outlying campsite. Everyone had been telling stories about ghosts and goblins and ghouls, and the thought of hiking alone in the dark was chilling. But Chase knew a secret: it was impossible to think about more than one thing at a time. So he began singing to himself.
Concentrating on the lyrics of his favorite songs.
It seemed silly, but with his mind focused on music, there was no room for thoughts of boogeymen.
So that’s it. Every time the ANTs come crawling, I’ll sing to myself. He glanced around, as checking to see if he’d be overheard. But quietly, of course.
He began climbing down from the tree, already humming a favorite song … a song he’d written himself.
It was more of a chant, really … sung with people clapping their hands and slapping their thighs in rhythm as they repeated the words. But it was always a hit during silly-song time at Scout camp.
Snakes!
Snakes are gross!
Creepy!
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly,
There’s another, oh my golly!
Oh, what a drag
There’s one inside my sleeping bag!
He grinned.
Such a stupid song!
He had a thought and suddenly slapped at his sides and pockets.
My knife … and multitool! And my Swiss Army knife! I’ve still got ’em!
And: Okay, then, I’m not quite as helpless as I thought.
He finally jumped to the ground and glanced around the forest with fresh eyes. He took another moment to check for tracks—
Still nothing to indicate anything with a lot of teeth had been by.
—then lifted his nose and tried to figure out where the nasty smell of sulfur was coming from.
Over that way, he finally decided, looking into the trees.
He began hiking, slowly and carefully, keeping an eye on the brush, determined not to let anything catch him by surprise. He kept his eyes moving, glancing down often to avoid stepping on dry sticks or leaves that might crack and alert nearby predators. He came to a trail that bisected his path and spotted tracks in the soft dirt.
Has three toes, he noticed, recognizing the sign of a two-legged predator. The tracks were, maybe, eight or nine inches long, and he instantly thought of the skinny raptor-like things he’d spotted from the tree. He also realized the tracks were sharply defined, which meant they were fresh.
Okay, so there are animals around. Just not as many as before.
He looked both ways like a little kid preparing to cross the street, then sped across the trail and back into the trees. He didn’t know how it worked, of course. But he thought predators were more likely to patrol obvious game trails than to go bushwhacking through the thickest parts of the forest.
The smell of sulfur grew stronger, and Chase soon came to a clearing filled with gray rocks. A rank, fetid pool bubbled near the middle
Whew! he thought, his nose crinkling at the stinking odor. Nasty!
But he could hear something else now, too: the sound of running water.
He hiked past the sulfur spring and came to …
Well, it was about four feet across, a little wider and deeper than a typical stream, but not large enough to be a river. Clear, sparkling water ran noisily over shallow rocks, spilling here and there into small pools.
Couldn’t swim in one, but on a hot day could certainly crawl in and cool off a little.
He looked both ways again—didn’t want to get jumped by a passing bone cruncher—then picked his way over the rocky streambank. He knelt next to the rushing water, took another look around, then reached a hand into the cold water and lifted it to his mouth. He took a couple of handfuls, no more than a couple of sips at a time, then bent all the way over and plunged his face into the stream. He drank greedily, remembering what Treeck told him about eating and drinking every chance he got.
Just never know when you’re going to have another chance, he thought. And besides, it’ll help keep me from getting hungry.
He knelt back on the rocky bank and—
He spotted something in the mud on the other side.
What the—
It was a track!
A boot track!
He leaped across the stream and knelt beside the track. It was fresh, the print sharp and clear, and about the same size as Chase’s boots.
Zach!
It’s gotta be! This is a kid’s track! And Zach’s the only other kid on the planet!
Chase jumped to his feet, looked up and down the stream, and opened his mouth to yell. But—
No, bad idea, he thought. Zach might hear me, but so will every butt biter in the forest.
He stared at the track, then began searching for another one.
The streambed was rocky, but Chase quickly spotted a sliver of mud with another print.
Okay, definitely going this way.
The next twenty or thirty feet were covered with rocks, and if there were tracks, Chase couldn’t see them. Even when he came to a spot of mud—
Nothing.
He looked back and forth, tried the other side of the st
ream, then hiked back to the last track he’d found.
Okay, Zach was going this way, but—
He followed the streambed, then noticed an all but imperceptible break in the trees. He walked over and saw a mark in the dirt. It was hard to tell, but—
No, there!
He spotted a track on a barely visible trail.
All right … gotcha!
The trail wasn’t much to follow, but Zach had definitely come this way.
And not too long ago, either.
It was all Chase could do not to yell. But as much as he wanted to find his friend, he didn’t want to invite unwanted company to the party, either.
The forest was thick here, with not many places a kid or a dinosaur could have gotten off the trail without making a ruckus. Chase spotted several spiderwebs in the foliage, one the size of a desktop just off the trail. A spider the size of Chase’s hand hovered to the side.
Jeez, Louise, he thought, leaning as far away as he could. Thing that size could swallow a full-grown cat and still be hungry!
He shuddered before pushing on through the woods.
After several minutes the trees began to thin out a little. Chase studied the ground, but Zach was definitely sticking to the trail, his tracks as clear in the soft dirt as the bright sun in the sky.
Lot easier to follow than when he was on the rocks!
He kept pushing forward, still scanning the woods for threats. He spotted what seemed—
Clack!
Chase froze in midstep.
There was a sound from the forest, a clack like two rocks cracking together.
Chase peered hard into the trees—looking all around—but was sure the sound had come from directly ahead. He hesitated, then took a careful step forward, listening intently.
Nothing.
He listened for several seconds, but didn’t hear anything more. He was beginning to think it might have been his imagination when he heard the whuck-whuck of large wings beating the air—
“Aaaaighhhh!”
A blood-curdling scream split the forest, followed by a terrifying screech.
“Cheeeeeyaiiiiiii!”
Chase froze.
But then his legs were churning, running without his brain telling them to move. He raced through the trees and burst into a clearing. Zach was right in the middle, waving a stick as a dozen hawk-sized pterosaurs spun and wheeled around him like bees over a hive.
Chase grabbed a stick and charged across the clearing, screaming like his hair was on fire.
“Yaaaaaaaaaagh!”
He swung at a diving pterosaur, connecting with a loud thud! that sent the flying reptile spinning into the trees. “Get outta here!”
He swung again and again, connecting with first one, then another of the disgusting flying lizards. He heard the whuck-whuck of flapping wings and spun around just as a pterosaur dove upon him.
“Aaaagghhhh!”
Chase yelled—in shock as much as to frighten the diving reptile—and swung his stick. The pterosaur jinked away, flapping crazily. Chase swung his stick again and again, but the pterosaurs were learning, recognizing the threat and flapping in circles just out of reach.
Chase dropped his stick and grabbed two baseball-sized rocks near his boots. He reared back, took aim, and launched the first rock like a sizzling fastball.
The nearest pterosaur tried to jink away, but was too late: the rock connected with a dull thud.
The pterosaur screeched and flapped and zoomed away, and Chase fired at a second flaposaur, just missing. Out of ammunition, he yelled—
“Yaaaaaaaaaagh!”
—and waved his arms.
The pterosaurs flew a little higher and then—as if tiring of the game—flapped away.
Chase brandished his fist menacingly—daring the creatures to return—then looked back over his shoulder.
Zach was sitting on his butt a few feet away, his jaw hanging all the way to his knees.
Chase waved matter-of-factly and said, “Hey,” as if the two had just met up in the school lunchroom.
Zach stared for another moment, shook his head as if clearing it of cobwebs, then looked again.
“Chase? What are you doing here?”
“Saving your butt, obviously.” Chase took a closer look. “You hurt? Those things get you?”
“Huh? Oh, those things?” Zach shook his head. “No, they’re not really dangerous. One of ’em just stole my fish. I was going to eat it for breakfast, but while I was building the fire it swooped down and stole it.”
He looked into the sky and pulled a face.
Chase reached down and gave his friend a hand up. The boys looked one another up and down for a moment—assuring themselves they weren’t just imagining one another—then embraced like long-lost brothers.
“Holy cow, Chase!” Zach exclaimed as if finally realizing his friend was really there. “Where did you come from? … And what are you doing here?”
“Came after you,” Chase said. “Some guys came and pulled me out of school. Said you were lost and needed me to help them find you.”
“You came with a rescue party?” Zach jerked his head back and forth, looking for the rest of the team. “Wha—where are they?”
Chase instantly sobered. “Um, I’m not sure.”
He quickly told Zach the story.
“So as far as I know, it’s just the two of us,” he concluded. “I don’t know if any of the others, um, made it.”
“You’re a real mood killer,” Zach complained. “I’ve gone from being lost, to rescued, to lost again … all in the past five minutes.” And then: “I hope you don’t have any more bad news.”
“Well, the guys said we could expect a rescue once everyone back home realizes we aren’t, you know, coming back. And then they’ll come looking for us.”
“How long will that take?”
“Maybe a week.”
If Zach was discouraged by the news, he didn’t show it. Instead, he looked Chase up and down and said: “Jeez, dude, you look like crap! … Are you hurt?”
Chase looked. His pants and shirt were stained with blood and gore—remnants of a dinosaur exploding over him the night before—made even filthier from crawling around in the dirt.
“Oh, not really,” he said, rubbing a hand over one of the more disgusting stains. “This isn’t me … I had a dinosaur explode on me last night.”
“Freaky.”
“Yeah. But what about you? I’ve seen roadkill that looked better than you.”
Zach just grinned. He apparently knew he was smudged with dirt, his clothes torn and filthy, his hair filled with small twigs and bits of leaves and sticking out in mid-explosion. He spread his hands.
“Hey, you don’t hang out in a place like this and not get your hair mussed.”
Chase couldn’t help grinning: that sounded exactly like Zach.
Zach became serious again. “So, um, this rescue team. Where are they? Or, I mean, um—”
“I know what you mean,” Chase said. He waved a vague hand. “We landed the same place you did—”
“Ooh, bad move,” Zach said. “That’s primo dilophosaur country—”
“So those things really are dilophosaurs?”
“The ones with crests on their head?” Zach nodded. “Yeah. And they’re fiercely protective of their turf. And there are horned things that look like allosaurs, but not quite so big. They’re mostly night stalkers, but they’re mean: they’re probably what attacked your camp last night.”
Chase gestured to the gore splattered over his shirt. “So that’s what this was.”
“Pretty sure. I think they’re ceratosaurs, and they’re crazy mean. You don’t want to be near ’em.”
“Sorta figured that out.”
“I’m surprised you got away.”
“Me, too. But what about you? How have you stayed alive?”
Zach shrugged. “Hasn’t been easy. And I’ve had some close calls. But most of the predators are terri
torial. They like to stay close to home. You stay outta their place, they stay outta yours.”
“Really?”
“It’s more of a suggestion than a rule. But most of the time, yeah.”
“So how do you know where it’s safe?”
“Nowhere’s really safe. But you get to know where the nastier things hang out and just stay away. And if you ever start finding scat—”
“Scat?”
“You know: turds, dung, crap? You ever start finding it with lots of chewed-up bones inside you run the chance of finding the animals that dropped it, so you get the heck outta there.”
Chase nodded, thinking, Yeah, that makes sense.
“So here we are,” he said. “The question is, what do we do now?”
Zach shrugged. “Don’t know. I’ve just been hanging out, hoping someone would come looking for me.”
“Then we showed up and got our butts kicked.”
“Don’t feel bad,” Zach counseled. “I mean, it doesn’t do you any good and, well, you could have gotten eaten, too.”
“Day’s not over yet.”
“Hmmmm.” Zach suddenly seemed to brighten. “Hey, you wanna see something cool? Something that’ll cheer you up? Blow your socks off?”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see. Just follow me.”
10 Elvisaurs
ZACH LED THE way into the forest, carrying a long, pointed stick that looked like a spear. As they hiked Chase asked, “Why didn’t you ever tell me about this?”
“About what?”
“About being able to fly into alternate realities! Holy cow, man! I mean, that’s huge! How come you never told me?”
“Hey, it’s like top secret. More than top secret. I’m not even supposed to know about it. But I sorta figured out what was going on and then begged my dad to let me come.”
He gave Chase a satisfied grin.
“He gave in when I finally got that freakin’ A in biology.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Chase said, thinking, That again? But: “Still can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“Dude! My dad would’ve killed me.”
“I ’spose.” And then: “So how’d you manage to get lost?”