Dino Island 2
Page 3
I parked my car, raced up to my apartment, and opened the door to the dark, empty space waiting for me.
No.
I decided that Jessica was wrong as I flipped on the lights and headed to my camping closet.
Some men might leave. Certainly, the type of guys who spend their lives chasing Jessica would.
I pulled out the camping equipment and smiled.
Not all guys are the same.
Now I needed to get out of this apartment and head back home.
• • •
It was awkward to push two empty grocery store carts at the same time, especially when I was racing to finish at a faster pace than the broken wheels would allow. The woman at the checkout counter raised an eyebrow as I headed inside while trying to control one with each arm. Despite my best efforts, they drifted in opposite directions.
I took a breath and calmed myself. The analytical part of my mind told me that the best approach was to slow my efforts if I wanted to accelerate my results.
So I left one cart behind, silently promising that I would be back for it. Even that abandonment caused minor guilt. I redoubled my efforts to stay focused.
I quickly filled one shopping cart to the brim. More than one confused customer shot me a bizarre look as I claimed armfuls of supplies, only stopping once I’d emptied a shelf. But nobody said a word of protest.
It’s amazing what we can accomplish when we stop caring what other people think.
I was only halfway through the store when the cart was filled, so I turned back and ran for the empty one.
“Told you I wouldn’t leave you.” I’d subconsciously whispered the words before realizing that I’d said them aloud.
My neck burned with tiny pinpricks of judgment. I wheeled around to see the same checkout employee, now with both eyebrows raised, staring at me in bewilderment. I wanted to promise her that I didn’t always talk to carts, but deduced that would only make me seem crazier.
Instead, I smiled at her and headed to the canned foods section.
Within minutes, I’d filled the second cart as well. Everyone in the aisle stopped to watch as the clanging of metal became the sole noise in an otherwise silent stretch of grocery store. Once I’d finished, I smiled and nodded as I passed each person in turn. Without fail, they gawked wordlessly.
I wanted to tell them that there was a reason for my behavior, that I wasn’t crazy, and that they’d have a much more positive view of me if they knew just how helpful I could be if they were attacked by dinosaurs.
But that seemed unlikely to dissuade them from believing that my actions were bizarre.
So I raced past them. Time was short.
It’s not like I would ever see any of them again.
I glanced down at my watch.
Fuck. I now had less than four hours to be back at Melvin Stringer’s lab, or I’d be cut off from the girls forever. I tried not to imagine them realizing that I disappeared. Had they already decided that I abandoned them?
The answer was almost certainly “yes.”
I shook the thought from my head. I didn’t even know if the dinosaur jungle was in our current timeline. I might return to the very moment I’d left.
Or I could come back years later, only to find that they’d died long ago.
I gritted my teeth and raced toward the checkout line, both carts once again drifting in every direction except for the path that the other had chosen.
Then I stopped.
An older man was counting pennies one by one. He was moving very, very slowly. I checked my watch.
He didn’t notice.
Looking around, I could see that no other checkout lines were open. This was my only option. I couldn’t exactly steal two full carts of groceries with the grace needed to escape detection, so I had to wait my turn.
I tapped my foot impatiently.
“Oops, I have to start over. Ha!” he announced as he scooped the pile of change back into his palm.
My ears felt ready to shoot off the sides of my head.
Then I focused.
It was time to be logical.
I smiled as widely as possible. “Excuse me, Miss,” I called to the woman behind the counter, “do you have any leprosy medication? I’m at that terrible point where I’m most contagious, and the pain in my dying flesh is unbearable.
It wasn’t my proudest moment, but it did convince the man ahead of me to abandon his groceries entirely and run for the door, looking over his shoulder in disgust as he went.
I maintained the smile while pulling the first cart up to a very wary checkout employee.
Quietly, she scanned the items.
She finally broke her silence after moving KY Jelly, disposable razors, chicken bullion, a chef’s knife, and the first box of condoms into a bag. “Wild night planned?”
“You know it!” I shot back, my forced grin wider than ever.
She froze for just a moment.
And then she returned to processing my items.
I’d never wondered if I was going to risk my credit limit at the grocery store, but I’d never before purchased even a fraction of this quantity in a single trip. A line of bewildered customers slowly built behind me as my checkout process passed the ten-minute mark. Irritated patrons strained their necks to get a glimpse of what was taking so long.
I didn’t make eye contact, simply grinning placidly as the mountain of equipment ran through. The clerk filled bag after bag with copious amounts of Ramen noodles, twine, candles, matches, lighters, women’s and men’s multi-vitamins, Gatorade powder, instant coffee, flour, sugar, dry pasta, salt, a variety of spices, a metal pot, metal cutlery, plastic plates, plastic bowls, plastic cups, flashlight batteries, ibuprofen, sunscreen, tampons, toothbrushes, toothpaste, floss, mouthwash, body wash, face wash, toilet paper, shampoo, a first aid kit, hand sanitizer, conditioner, soap, Q-tips, combs, brushes, nail clippers, shaving cream, laundry detergent, hand towels, bath towels, socks, underwear for both genders, and more condoms.
“That’ll be $3,825.99,” she announced upon filling the thirtieth bag.
At least budgeting and bankruptcy would no longer affect my life. I felt a sudden pang of loss at the fact that I had worked so hard to resist spending money that I couldn’t take with me.
The customers continued to gawk as they left the store and saw me in the parking lot. I couldn’t blame them; it’s not every day you see a man struggle valiantly to stuff thousands of dollars worth of groceries into two oversized duffel bags squished in the trunk of a car.
It’s amazing just how quickly we can stop caring about all the unimportant things when our lives are about to pivot.
With a lot of swearing, bending, folding, emptying of containers, and more swearing, I managed to squeeze every item into the duffels. Letting out a long, low sigh of relief, I focused on trying to appear as normal as possible.
After all, it wouldn’t be a good idea to raise red flags in a bank.
I looked at my watch.
Shit. Just over three hours to go.
I hopped in my car and drove.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TOC
“The ATM told me that I had to come inside if I wanted to withdraw more than $500,” I explained to the teller, trying not to appear agitated.
He peered over his round spectacles and typed silently on his keyboard. “It says that your card was used for a rather large purchase just thirty minutes ago. Can you verify that it wasn’t fraudulent?”
I clenched my teeth. “I had to run to the grocery store.”
The light bounced off his glasses as he stood completely frozen, evaluating me. Then he typed another series of figures into the computer.
I sighed louder than I had intended. “How much longer is this going to take?”
He frowned. “Mr. Swift,” the man whispered, “if you’re being held hostage, you need to inform me.”
I focused on rema
ining calm.
And then I smiled. “Would a man donating thousands of dollars in cash, to be deposited at a charity of this bank’s choosing, be held by the whims of a criminal looking to steal every dollar?”
• • •
The donation made me feel lighter, freer. For the first time since returning, I felt good as I walked away from the money that had governed my life.
But I still had an enormous wad of cash in my pocket. There was one last trip to make.
• • •
“First time at Gunther’s?” asked the bearded man behind the counter.
I folded my arms. “Do I stand out that much?”
He looked me up and down. “You do look like a professor or something.” He grinned. “But it’s the look on your face that really gives you away. Not sure where to start?”
I scratched the back of my head. “Um. Not really, no.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through it. I’m Gunther, the owner. First time in a guns and ammo store?”
“Guilty,” I answered, shrugging.
“Not a problem. Have you gone through a background check?”
I looked around the small store, confirming that I was the only other person inside. Weapons covered every square inch of the walls; I was going to need him on my good side if I wanted to figure out this delicate step.
I glanced at my watch: ninety minutes left.
I took a deep breath. “I’ve got the background check information right here in my wallet,” I explained, pulling the wad of cash from my pocket. The stack was so fat that I could barely free my fist. Gunther’s eyes looked ready to pop out of his head as I discreetly turned my hand over before re-pocketing the money. “I hope that this is proof enough to pass the check and leave with my purchases tonight.”
He glanced left and right before making steady eye contact. “Come with me to the back room.”
• • •
“Is that everything you need?” He asked after I handed him the cash. “Seriously, you name it. I’m your man.”
I looked down at my haul. “Um, do you have any backpacks that can store this?”
“Of course, man.” He scratched his scraggly beard. “But there’s no way you’re going to stuff all of it into just one bag.”
“Could you help me empty the ammo boxes? The bullets can squeeze into the corners if they’re loose.”
He raised an eyebrow.
I passed him another hundred.
“Let’s see if we can make this work,” he answered, clapping me on the back.
We made it work.
“Wait a second.” I stopped in my tracks just as we were about to leave the back room. I was transfixed by what I saw on the wall. “Is that for sale?”
Gunther wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Everything on earth is for sale, my friend, because everything comes with a price.”
I pulled out the last of my money wad.
“Look, your plans are none of my business, friend,” he explained as he took my cash. “But a word to the wise,” he added, pulling out a folding ladder and extracting the weapon from the wall, “I have a feeling you’re going to raise enough red flags as it is.” He climbed back down and handed me my purchase. “So maybe consider not openly carrying this Japanese katana at the same time as all the guns, okay?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
TOC
Melvin Stringer was a dangerous psychopath.
I could deal with psychopaths. I worked in academia, after all. But a psychopath with the power to change world was beyond my expertise.
My mind raced faster than my car as I wheeled through traffic in an attempt to beat the clock. I drove through half stops and whole red lights before my head seized control from my emotions.
I could not afford to get arrested, or even stop for a ticket. I checked my watch.
Adrenaline shot through my gut. I only had twenty-nine minutes.
I breathed. In and out, in and out. I could still make it.
But if red and blue lights started flashing behind me, I would have to outrun them. There simply wasn’t enough time to deal with the cops and get to campus before the deadline.
The speedometer eased back into a place, just ten miles and hour above the speed limit.
Then I saw red lights ahead of me and panicked as I hit the brakes.
Heart pounding, I checked the time again.
Twenty-seven minutes.
What the hell was causing so many brake lights? I poked my head out the window to see a long line of cars leading up to a barricade in front of a bored-looking construction worker. He was leaning on portable stop sign like it was the only thing propping him up.
I wanted to scream. If these people only knew how urgent things were, they’d let me pass. But what was I supposed to do? Call the police and tell them that nutty Melvin had build some sort of a trans-dimensional portal that had trapped four of my students?
And dinosaurs. If I didn’t persuade them with the portal description, certainly the dinosaur story would convince them that I was crazy.
Twenty-six minutes.
I moaned and dropped my head against the steering wheel, inadvertently causing it to honk.
“Fuck off, asshole, I can’t move!” came the cheery voice of the pleasant man in front of me.
I make a habit of avoiding unnecessary confrontation, but my blood was near its boiling point. I was about to tell him that I knew he couldn’t move, then ask if he thought I had the power to do anything either, when I stopped.
I had an idea.
And it’s amazing what plans come to fruition when we stop caring about the opinions of strangers.
I checked to make sure that there was no oncoming traffic, then rolled over to the left side of the street, smiling and waving to the angry man as I passed by him. Quickly moving past all of the other cars, I came to a stop right before the worker holding a stop sign. I squinted as I read his shirt.
“Roger!” I called authoritatively.
He jumped in shock before staring at me. I wagged my finger in a “come here” motion.
He took three slow steps forward.
“Myron says you’re doing a great job,” I complimented with a smile.
He gave me a confused grin before nodding.
“Look, Jim Baker’s got Zoning up my ass, and we have to deal with this tonight or we’re all fucked. You boys working as fast as you can?”
He gawked at me in utter bewilderment. But he nodded just the same.
“Good job, Roger. Go ahead and tell them I’m coming through, I need to get over to Fremont Street.”
He hesitated.
My head was ready to explode. But I remained calm.
Then, still looking unsure, Roger slowly pulled back the barricade.
I waved and drove past, heading through the night toward the last stretch of this particular journey.
CHAPTER NINE
TOC
I left my car in a “No Parking” zone, because it was the closest I could get to the lab. I would have driven right onto campus if there were a wide enough gap between the buildings to reach the quad, but no such luck. I distantly considered that I’d probably never see my car again.
All that really meant was I didn’t have to worry about parking tickets.
I threw on the camping backpack before lifting one oversized duffel in each hand. Fuck. The combined haul weighed more than I did. I’d have to move fast if I wanted to make it on time.
I checked the clock: twelve minutes.
Not good.
It was a five-minute walk to the lab – but I needed to make two trips.