“Oh, stick a sock in it, Jack; this is important. Cycads are rare. Even though quite a few species are known, they aren’t found in large numbers. They’re prominent in the geologic record, but encountering one today constitutes a significant find.”
“How come you know so much about these things?”
“I told you; I just learned about them last semester in my biology class.” She thought about Mr. Powell and the horrible cheating episode in which she’d played a leading role. Social problems aside, Jocelyn had to admit that Powell was a wonderful teacher. At times he’d captivated her with his lectures. His enthusiasm for such mundane subjects as lichens, mosses and, yes, even cycads, was infectious, and she felt very fortunate to have learned so much about such a large segment of life on the planet. Her hand ran to the top of the crown and fingered a sharp spike that projected from its center. “I’ve never heard of an example like this,” she mused, speaking more to herself than to the others, “anyone unlucky enough to fall on this guy would have a really bad day.”
The three of them continued ahead. Although the thick, humid air was oppressive, visibility had greatly improved. Gone were the mist and fog. All the clouds were above them now that they’d reached the valley floor. Low, heavily forested hills lay far off in the distance, well beyond the clearing to which they were headed. Spencer took the lead. An adventurous spirit had taken hold of him. Wary of the airborne dragonfly threat, he kept a sharp eye out for cycads and hiked through a sandy area populated by another type of tree, one with distinctive, flat, tongue-shaped leaves. Climbing a small knoll, they finally saw the reason for the break in the trees. The vista gave them pause.
It was a huge lake, a widening in the river at least half a mile wide and perhaps twice as long. The water here was a deep greenish-blue. Its surface was like glass, undisturbed by even a hint of a breeze. Thick vegetation lined most of the shoreline. They recognized large patches of the ‘bamboo’ that they’d seen at higher elevations, as well as several more stands of cycads, presumably laced with swarms of dragonflies. Dark green patches of taller trees located further from the water appeared to be coniferous, something they had yet to see up close. Earlier they had detoured around the area where the river ran into the lake, and they now saw that it was a delta, the flat valley floor causing the river to branch out into several smaller streams. Jack decided that if they hoped to cross to the other side, the delta would be the place to try. None of the streams seemed to be very deep or fast-moving, and islands of rock and sand with little vegetation lay between them.
* * *
Jocelyn, Jack and Spencer plodded through the estuarial-like terrain at the head of the lake. The ground alternated between mucky patches laden with ferns, to dry, sandy areas with larger plants, mainly ‘bamboo.’ Beyond that grew some of the tall conifers they’d seen from the knoll. Spencer led them in a wide arc around a cycad grove before cutting through a stand of tall conifers en route to the river. These were definitely pines. The similarities to trees of North America were apparent, but there were also marked differences. These had short, regularly-spaced branches that ended with large seed cones. Nonetheless, they had familiar looking needles and they smelled right, having a pungent, pine ‘pitch’ odor that evoked memories of home in the midst of this strange, alien land.
At the edge of the stream Jack stopped to splash water on his face. They had stopped beside a small pool. “I suggest we cross back where those rocks…” The water in front of him erupted and a large, green head emerged. Behind it followed a thick neck attached to powerful shoulders. A massive animal as big as an ox was emerging from the pool, and it was headed straight towards them.
The students ran. Visceral fear suffused them with one objective: to get away and seek shelter from this strange creature. The nearest cover afforded to them was a large rock pile perhaps thirty yards upstream. Jocelyn headed right for it, followed by Jack. Spencer was having trouble. He’d twisted his right foot, the one that was slightly deformed, and he was now limping. Jack looked over his shoulder and, seeing the terror in the younger boy’s eyes, raced back to help. A glance at their pursuer, however, set him at ease. The beast was lumbering slowly out of the water and not following them at all. Apparently bath time was over and the animal was simply moseying up to the riverbank.
Safely ensconced within the rock pile, the students stared in wonder. The creature wasn’t really green. It was chomping contentedly on a huge, dripping mass of plant matter it had dredged from somewhere within the pool. Its mouth was beak shaped with two tiny tusks poking out from either side. Its eyes were mounted on the sides of its head, much like those of a horse, and its short, muscular limbs were widely set, giving it an appearance more like a tank than a gazelle.
“Just how the heck did hippos get onto this island?” Jocelyn wondered.
“That’s not a hippo,” Spencer replied. He was staring intently at the odd looking creature as it waded back into knee-deep water searching for more nourishment. “I’m pretty sure it’s a dicynodont.”
“A what?” Jack asked.
“They’re prehistoric.”
“It’s a dinosaur?!”
“No, believe it or not, this guy pre-dates dinosaurs.”
The animal sloshed along the bank, oblivious to the gawking humans hidden nearby. Making its way to a patch of reeds in the shallows of the pool, it lowered its head and plowed its stubby tusks through the muck, raking up another batch of water plants. Spencer looked on in fascination. "I'm shuah that's what it is, a dicynodont," he affirmed. "It’s exactly like the reconstructions scientists have come up wit' from fossils." He chuckled, "Looks like a cross between a turtle and Homah Simpson."
The beast turned and plodded downstream. Its funny beak, short hind legs, and thick, stubby tail did indeed give it the appearance of a turtle without a shell, and Jocelyn and Jack had to admit that it bore strong resemblance to the well-known cartoon character.
They continued to stare at the odd-looking animal, all of them contemplating Spencer's statement that it was a living fossil. After a moment, Jocelyn frowned in disgust. "Eeeww, do you smell that? Dinosaur or not, our friend, Homer, stinks. Maybe he farted or something—smells like road kill.”
The two boys now smelled it too. Jack wrinkled his nose and gagged, “Holy crap, you’re right, he smells worse than my gym locker.” Sniffing the air again, he paused contemplatively, “But, what little wind there is is blowing the other way. I don’t see how…”
The sound of cracking branches and rustling of leaves came from behind them. Instinctively, all three ducked and hid from what was approaching. Although they'd been in this strange valley for no more than a few hours, the students had now seen enough that nothing would surprise them. Whatever was coming was big, and all knew there was no guarantee the new arrival would be as benign as Homer.
The true source of the foul scent gradually emerged from the foliage. The head appeared first, followed by a long, thick, scaly neck. To the trembling humans cowering just a few feet away, the new creature's dietary needs were obvious. This one was a carnivore.
Its evil-looking, slanted eyes darted back and forth in search of prey. The students ducked down further, as low as they could, trying to blend into the sand, fervently praying that the small pile of rocks around them was enough to render them invisible. Spencer was closest to this new, ominous threat, and had a terrific, albeit dangerous, view of the animal as it approached. Taller than a man and much heavier, it had an elongated skull full of razor-sharp teeth. Its tongue flicked around, sampling the air for scent as it slunk from the stand of ‘bamboo,’ pausing every few seconds to process data. It was hunting. Spencer’s heart was beating so hard, he was certain the creature would find him.
“Spencer, what’s it doing?” Jocelyn whispered urgently. “Is it still there?”
“Shhh…”
There would be no escape if the predator found them. The only clear way out of the rock pile was the open stretch of bank between them and the dicynod
ont. Beyond that lay open water and the prospect of more untold dangers…not that they’d make it that far if they were foolish enough to try and make a run for it.
The animal had now fully emerged from the foliage and Spencer had a ringside view from less than twenty feet away. Although its forelegs were only about half the length of its powerful hindquarters, it seemed to be comfortable walking on all four limbs. Spencer’s first thought was that it was a strange hybrid crocodile. The head seemed crocodilian but the legs were much too long. This animal walked upright, like a dog or a cat.
It was now right beside him. If Spencer were bold, or foolish, enough, he could have reached out and touched it. He held his breath as the crouching beast stealthily crept along the other side of the rock behind which he was hiding. It was heading for the river bank. Large scale-like plates lay along its spine, from the crest of its oversized head to the tip of the tail. Perhaps twelve feet long, it conveyed the impression of power, grace and speed. This was a killing machine.
Once the animal had passed them and they realized they hadn't been seen, the students' heads bobbed up and down in the manner of prairie dogs. Despite the obvious danger, the desire to observe this awesome creature was impossible for them to resist.
The head was primarily what captivated them. The skull was narrow but massive. Jocelyn thought it looked strangely familiar—like the gators she'd seen in South Texas and Louisiana. Its cheeks, where the heavy jaw muscles attached, were thick, indicative of the crushing strength of its bite. The eyes were located under a boney ridge that ran along the top of the head, and, at the moment, they were fixated on the activity going on in the shallows of the pool.
Without warning the animal bolted. It lowered its head and charged forward with amazing speed. Kicking sand in Spencer’s face on the way by, it headed straight for the dicynodont.
Jocelyn’s ‘hippo’ let out a cry of alarm and began a lumbering retreat towards the apparent safety of the water. But it was much too slow. The predator caught it right at the water’s edge. Burying its teeth into the dicynodont’s neck it raked its foreclaws across its victim’s back while trying to wrest it back onto dry land. The heavier prey animal’s momentum carried it deeper into the pool, but the aggressor hung on, its hind legs scratching for purchase in the soft river silt, trying to haul both of them away from deep water. A guttural wail resonated from the throat of the dicynodont. The pitiful sound was like the braying of a donkey except deeper and more pleading. Instinct and adrenalin drove it into frenzied thrashing in desperate attempt to free itself from its mortal predicament.
“Holy crap, Holy crap!” Jocelyn cried as the vicious attack continued. “I wish we could do something to help poor Homer.”
Jack recognized opportunity in the epic struggle. They had to find a better place of refuge—and fast. The fearsome, malodorous predator would make short work of them if it were to suddenly disengage from its present struggle. “I’ll tell you what we can do,” he said, “Run!” He grabbed both Spencer and Jocelyn by their arms and pulled them away from the rocks, pointing them inland, away from the water. “I think we’ll be safe if we can get to those pines over there.”
Just as he spoke, the dicynodont threw its weight into its attacker, catapulting them both into deeper water. Both animals submerged, and for a moment the water settled until the carnivore exploded back to the surface and began thrashing its way towards shore. Swimming, apparently, wasn’t its strong suit. It had been forced to release its dinner and was making exasperated hissing noises.
Spencer thought it sounded pissed. He’d been mesmerized by the life-and-death struggle taking place before him and had fallen behind. Jack and Jocelyn were almost through the tangle of ‘bamboo’ and well on their way to safety when Jack realized Spencer wasn’t with them. His eyes grew as big as saucers when the frustrated predator drew a bead on his young companion and began to charge.
“Run!” Jack shouted, “Spencer, Run!”
Spencer didn’t need to look behind him. The urgency in Jack’s voice told him all he needed to know. He was in the bamboo thicket, picking his way through, when he heard Jack’s plea. With an alacrity that rivaled an Olympic hurdler, he began to climb, duck and weave his way through the twisted forest. But it wasn’t enough. The animal was gaining. Because of its size, the ‘bamboo’ thicket provided little resistance. Spencer wasn’t making enough progress. Jack began waving and yelling in a futile attempt to divert the animal’s attention, but it was like trying to distract a laser-guided missile that had locked onto its target. Spencer’s movement was all the beast could see.
There was nothing else Jack could do. He turned to Jocelyn, who was safely climbing through the branches of a large pine, and began to run towards her, to save himself. “Don’t look,” he yelled at her. She turned and saw a look of pure agony in his countenance. “For God’s sake, Jocelyn, don’t watch him die.” At the very least he felt he might be able to spare her the trauma, the horror, of watching their young friend being torn apart by a savage beast. He reached the tree and began climbing with a heavy heart, reciting at the same time a short Polish prayer he’d learned as a child, and hoping fervently that Spencer wouldn’t suffer. If the boy screamed, Jack knew he would forever be haunted by the sound. This wasn’t the way an archeological dig was supposed to be. For heaven’s sake, a summer spent learning about ancient Norse settlements well above the arctic circle shouldn’t involve seeing someone die in the jaws of a monster in the midst of a steaming jungle.
“Go, Spencer, that’s it. You can make it. Run.” Jocelyn’s yells of encouragement made Jack turn and look. It was as though his prayer had been answered. As it was leaving the ‘bamboo’ grove, the attacker had tripped and fallen. Apparently it had been so intent on its kill, finding itself only yards from an easy meal, it had failed to notice a heavy fallen log in its path.
It seemed that Spencer now had a fighting chance. Sprinting through a field of ferns he began to pull away.
However, his good fortune lasted but a moment. His pursuer rallied. Quickly rolling upright, the crocodilian lunged forward with amazing speed, propelling itself on all fours at an alarming rate. When it was mere yards away from its victim, it rose up onto its hind legs and prepared to strike. Jocelyn let out a wail of despair and Jack averted his eyes. The young man from Brooklyn, New York was doomed. The beast was going to grab him long before Spencer would make it to the safety of the tree.
X.
Marcie and Debbie watched the Sun through the small opening at the entrance to their shelter. A last brilliant arc seemed to hesitate before darting behind the towering mountain above them. The shadowless landscape of rock lay in the muted twilight of another approaching bitter, cold night. Both women felt a twinge of hopelessness at the thought of another day having passed in this inhospitable no-man’s land. Almost a full day had gone by without word from the other students, and no surprise rescue party had come to end their plight.
Marcie was hungry. In the excitement of preparing for her climbing lesson, she’d decided to put off eating her energy bars until later. Having subsequently given those to Jocelyn, Jack and Spencer for use during their journey, she was now carefully rationing what was left of the supplies Jack had brought up from the beach: three cans of pork and beans and two tins of smoked herring. Occasionally she would take a bite for herself, but Debbie desperately needed the nourishment and the patient’s needs superseded those of her caregiver. Debbie hadn’t thought to ask about the status of the food supply, and Marcie was glad. Even though lying to her mentor might be justifiable given the circumstances, Marcie would nonetheless feel uncomfortable doing it.
The reddish glow of arctic twilight had fully arrived now. It would remain dark like this, growing ever colder and damper until the Sun circled around the peaks to the north and made its reappearance in a few hours. As the chill began to set in, Marcie made an announcement:
“I’m going outside to try the communicator. Maybe we can get satellite lock now
that the Sun is behind the hills.”
She slid aside the rock that was tethered to one corner of the tent fly. High winds the day before had compelled her to secure the tarp more firmly to outcrops along the cliff face. She’d also scavenged several heavier, loose rocks from around their narrow shelf and piled them all around the base. Nearly all of her para-cord had been committed to securing the shelter, but when she’d finished, Marcie was impressed with her handiwork. “A hurricane couldn’t move this thing,” she’d thought with pride.
Moving to a locale far from the escarpment, she fumbled with the buttons on the unit. Her fingers were numb with cold. It would have been nice to activate one of her last two chemical hand warmers, but decided against it. She considered those to be sacred, only to be employed once the Sun had been down for at least an hour. Once that happened, though, she would place the tiny package between herself and Debbie, deep within the folds of their sleeping bag, and the two of them would nurse every calorie that emanated from it for the four hours or so that it lasted. By then the Sun’s reappearance would keep them from freezing for another tortuous day.
The screen glowed green, its hourglass icon telling her to wait. “Searching for satellites” was displayed in bold letters at the top. “Come on, baby, come on,” Marcie urged. She pulled the collar of her wind breaker against her neck with her free hand. The wind was beginning to gust now as it did every evening at this time, cold air spilling down from the high peaks as the Sun skirted the horizon on the other side.
Suddenly the screen began to dim. At first Marcie thought the problem lay with her eyes. The cold wind caused them to tear up when it came howling through like this. But Marcie’s eyes were fine. She stared in disbelief as the display became dimmer and dimmer, finally fading to black.
“Uhgggh…son of a bitch!” she groaned through clenched teeth. Anger flooded through her at this new setback, a cruel betrayal by a stupid piece of equipment. “What a piece of shit.” She nearly threw the thing against the rocks, smashing it to bits in a moment of exasperation. But she held back. The apparatus didn’t belong to her. As her temper subsided, Marcie’s ire was replaced with something worse—fear. The satellite communicator was the only link to the people at the dig site, and it was now useless.
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