So they kept their mouths shut. “Sure,” Mary had told the cops. “Come to think of it, I think maybe she was aiming at someone past Levin.”
Case closed.
A week after things began to calm down, Ron was at Mary’s for dinner. It was the first chance they’d had to really be alone together. They had sat and eaten Mary’s good cooking. All kinds of offers for her exclusive interview were pouring in, and people were tossing very attractive money offers for the print rights to the story of her adventures in the land of the dino-birds. Several news shows were falling over themselves for exclusive rights to interview the quite photogenic young woman. Playboy had even sent an offer for a pictorial. She and Ron had laughed over it, and Mary was happy to note that the offer seemed to bother Ron more than a little.
For a while, Ron and Mary made small talk and tried to avoid the matter they were dancing around. “What’s this about you signing on the register at the Seminole Nation, Ron?” Mary asked. “Why now?”
“I don’t know,” Ron said. He paused and thought about it, wondered whether he would tell anyone. “To tell you the truth, I still don’t feel completely comfortable with it. But that’s part of why I went ahead and did it. I’ve felt too uncomfortable about who—and what—I am for too long. And maybe I did it because of Billy Crane. And because of you. Just got me thinking, I guess.”
And that seemed to weaken the barriers that Ron had erected between himself and his feelings for Mary. Some of the tension vanished.
“What about you, Ron? They must be calling you, too. The people with the money for your story, I mean,” Mary said.
He looked into her pretty face, her black hair almost glowing like polished onyx. “Nah. I mean, I’ve had some offers, but not so much money that it would make a difference to me.”
Mary looked at Ron, disbelief in her eyes.
“No. It’s true. Really,” he said.
“Well, you’ve obviously got the wrong agent,” she told him.
“Agent? You’re kidding.”
“Do I have to do everything for you? I’ll give you the phone number later.”
With the dinner done and the dishes cleared away, they retreated to Mary’s modest den to watch some television. Mary put a videotape in her player. “I wanted to make sure you saw this,” she said. It was one of the recent fluff news pieces with Michael Irons’ and Vance Holcomb’s smiling faces showing as the two sat shoulder to shoulder at a press conference to announce the news.
“Berg Brothers has always been interested in preserving the natural world,” Irons said through his shark’s grin. “That’s why Salutations USA was already a model of eco-sensitive development. But now, with the discovery of this priceless treasure of the existence of Titanis walleri living in our world, and here, why Berg Brothers could not stand idly by.”
Holcomb chimed in on cue. “And that’s why Berg Brothers, working with Holcomb Industries, is cooperating to lock up over four hundred thousand acres of pristine forest and lowland habitat as a wilderness to be administered by the Department of the Interior, with Holcomb and Berg Brothers footing the bill for additional research. The studio will also, I’m happy to say, be sponsoring the redevelopment of Salutations USA as a combination educational center with continuing growth as a model of ecologically sensitive residential areas and entertainment complexes.”
There was footage of the Titanis bird Holcomb had tranq’d being released at the edge of the forest. As the animal dashed from its cage, vanishing into the green, an appropriate selection of rather moving and dramatic music played in the background.
“What’s going on with those birds, Ron? Are you hearing anything at work?” Mary asked, watching the footage of the bird dashing for freedom.
“I’ve heard a little. I talked to one of the big predator guys who came down from Alaska. He’s been working with grizzlies for five years. I guess they figured he’d know something about how a Titanis might think. At any rate, he says that what they have been able to see is that the flock seems to be functioning as a unit. Except for the red one, the big one. He’s off on his own, now. Has a couple of others with him. They say he’s got two females, may be forming his own flock. Who knows?”
“Do you think they’ll make it? I mean, now that Man knows about them? Now that we’ll be messing around in their wilderness and tampering with them?”
“I don’t think I even want to guess, Mary. Look. They’ve survived there for this long. And, if we’re very careful and don’t get in their ways and don’t intrude…well, I’d like to believe that they will continue to thrive.”
“Let’s hope so,” she said as she reached for the remote and shut the television off. “Can you believe that bullcrap with Holcomb, though? Berg Brothers tried to have him killed, and he knows it. How can he sit there with them like that?”
Ron sighed and slumped in the midst of the big couch. “Hell, I don’t know. Maybe he’s getting a vicious thrill out of them having to actually help him see his vision become a reality.” He sighed again. “Damn.”
Mary slid up close to Ron. She put her hand in his and motioned him to her. Ron was only too happy to cooperate and he soon had his arms around her, feeling her muscular form in his grasp. Their faces met, each breathing in the good scent of one another. They kissed, and kissed, kissed again. Ron was wondering how he had ever thought Mary had been anything less than the one for him.
After a moment, Mary disengaged and put her lips close to Ron’s ear. “Beats smooching on that deceitful bitch, doesn’t it?”
“Damn straight,” he said.
Mary was laughing at him, her face pretty, her teeth showing brightly. She was beautiful to Ron.
“I’ve been such a fool,” he told her. “I was afraid of falling in love with you. Of even admitting that I had fallen in love with you. A part of me—the part of me who’s a fool—kept saying we didn’t belong together. And…I can’t explain it, and I know it doesn’t make sense…but I didn’t want to think of having a family with you. I kept telling myself we were too different. The fact is, we’re so much alike. I know you must be sick of hearing me say it, but I’m sorry.”
“It’s ugly. That was self-loathing. I’ve seen it before, in others. But, I’m stuck on you, so I have to forgive you, don’t I?”
They looked at one another, their eyes full of desire and growing love. Ron moved toward Mary again, to embrace her for another round of kissing that he hoped would lead them to the bedroom. But before they could begin, Mary pushed him away.
“Um.” Mary cleared her throat. “I don’t know if I should mention this, and I don’t think you’ve heard, since one of the reporters I’ve been working with told me…” she trailed off.
“What?” Ron sat straight and looked at his host. “What is it?”
“That number, Kate Kwitney.”
“What about her?” He blinked.
“She’s going to be chief administrator at Holcomb’s research center. Seems she knows more about these damned birds than anyone but Holcomb. So she’s eminently qualified.”
Ron covered his face. “God. Give me a break.”
Mary reached over and gave him a playful punch in the shoulder. “Well, don’t look too depressed,” she said. “Look what came out today. Have you seen it, yet?” Mary reached beside the couch and produced a newspaper. Unfolding it, the paper rattling loudly, she presented it to Ron. “Ain’t it a gas?”
Ron looked while Mary began to chuckle.
It was the National Inquirer. The front page was a grainy photo of the head of a Titanis walleri. GIANT DINO-BIRD LIVES, it said. UTTERS THE NAME OF JESUS.
Along with Mary, Ron found himself laughing.
“Now, then,” Mary said. “Where were we?”
Books by James Robert Smith
The Flock
The Clan (coming in 2011)
Published by Tom Doherty Associates
Acknowledgements
Professor Jon A. Baskin of Texas A&M University fo
r information regarding the possible existence of Titanis walleri in more recent years of the Pleistocene.
I would also like to point out that when I wrote this novel, the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker was still listed as extinct and its survival was merely wishful thinking on the parts of wildlife enthusiasts.
About the Author
James Robert Smith lives with his wife, son, and two requisite cats near Charlotte, North Carolina. When he is not working for the United States Postal Service he can be found writing new stories or novels, or backpacking in various wilderness areas in the southern Appalachian high country.
He has made more than fifty short-story sales, and has had his comic scripts published by Marvel Comics, Kitchen Sink, Spyderbabies Grafix, and others. He was the coeditor of the Arkham House anthology Evermore. The Flock is his first novel.
To learn more, visit http://jamesrobertsmith.net/.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE FLOCK
Copyright © 2006 by James Robert Smith
The Flock was previously published in a hardcover edition by Five Star.
All rights reserved.
A Forge Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Forge® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
ISBN: 978-1-4299-8550-5
The Flock Page 31