The family bobbed in the water in stunned silence. With no life jackets to support their weight, Carmen and Ron soon began to tire. The family formed itself into a ring, the parents using the children’s life jackets to support as much of their weight as possible. It was at best a temporary solution.
The wind was still strong, but the sea had settled some. They were still riding a roller-coaster ocean, but the dips were smaller. The sky remained black, and the fog thick and sulfurous.
“Hey, Mom,” Rosa said. “There’s something over there.”
Ron looked at the same time as Carmen. Something dark was moving slowly through the water—shaped like the inverted hull of a ship, about twice the size of the Entrepreneur’s.
“It looks like another capsized boat,” Ron volunteered. “Swim for it.”
They angled toward the moving mound, gently brushing up against it. Carmen tried climbing up the side first, but the movement of the mound made it difficult.
“Ron, this doesn’t feel like Fiberglas.”
“Just climb, Carmen. We’ve got to get out of the water.”
Finally, Carmen lay spread-eagled on the side of the mound and reached down and managed to pull Chris up next to her, but Rosa and Ron found themselves falling behind, Ron struggled to get Rosa up on the side, but she could only use one arm effectively, and the net bag with the bottles was heavy. Ron realized the mound might pass them by and he panicked at the picture of Carmen and Chris floating off, out of sight.
Desperately, he pushed on Rosa with little strength. Then his foot hit something. He planted both feet and heaved Rosa up, hearing her gasp from pain as she flopped on her side. Ron pushed her higher and then inched up next to her, repeating his efforts until they joined Chris and Carmen. The four linked hands and lay flat against the surface.
Ron was so exhausted it took time to realize Carmen was right; this was not the surface of any boat he had ever seen. It was smooth, but still rougher than a fiberglass or painted surface. He put his cheek to it and felt definite, almost mechanical rhythm. A right-and-left rocking motion. He was still trying to figure out what it meant when he heard a splashing behind him.
Ron turned to see another lizard angling toward them. This one was much smaller but had the same large head and a bony collar around its neck. About a quarter the size of the larger one, it looked like it was going to climb up on the mound with them.
As the lizard used razor sharp claws to climb its way up the side, Ron thought he felt the mound shudder. The lizard was twenty inches long with a triangular head, bony neck collar, and fat stubby body. A foot of tail trailed behind it. Ron kicked the lizard full in the side with every bit of strength he had left. But the lizard was quicker than it looked. As the blow knocked it back into the water the claws, raked across Ron’s leg leaving three gashes. Though the lizard came up swimming, it fell behind, and Ron could see it wouldn’t catch up. He felt sad. He had just condemned it to a fate he and his family were fighting to avoid.
Ron returned to his family and lay back down again, totally exhausted. He fell asleep only to be shaken awake by Rosa.
“Wake up, wake up! But be quiet. Mom says we’re in trouble.”
He started to sit up but Rosa held him down.
“Move very slowly.”
Ron was confused. Why move slowly? Had another lizard scrambled aboard? He lifted his head and chest gradually. The sun was finally cutting through the gloom and Ron could see the sea around him a little more clearly now. Rosa whispered in his ear again.
“Mom says to look forward.”
Carmen was in front of Rosa, and Chris was sitting between Carmen’s legs. Ron looked past them to the sea. Something was rippling the water. In the weak light Ron saw a thick snake-like form emerging. On top of the snake shape was a head. It looked like a sea serpent to Ron and it took him a few seconds to realize the head was connected to the mound they were on. They were on the back of some kind of animal.
31. Luis
Some have said the age of dinosaurs ended because it had all been a mistake in the first place. Perhaps someday the same will be said of us.
—Robert Winston, On Things Gone By
New York City
PostQuilt: Monday, 12:02 P.M. EST
Luis woke in darkness. His eyes were heavy and blurred. He felt terrible; his head ached and he found blood crusted in his hair. Melinda would be angry. He had broken his promise; he was injured. Luis’s eyes wouldn’t focus but he could see a soft glow. He felt around. Touching a wall behind him, he sat up and leaned back. He didn’t need a mirror to know his face was swollen and purple.
Luis pushed himself up, keeping his back against the wall. The light got brighter as he stood and found himself in a diner behind the counter. Smashed dishes and silverware were everywhere, and the cash register was upside down in the middle of the floor. The light was coming through the—window? Luis shook his head and tried focusing again. The light was coming through the empty frame where the window had been. He stumbled out through the broken dishes to the street, looking around to get his bearings. It was too far back to his brother-in-law’s, and he didn’t want to return looking like this. His own building was close, so he turned toward home and staggered down the sidewalk. He didn’t bother calling for help he knew would never come.
When Luis neared his building he suddenly encountered people. Some looked at him curiously but no one offered to help. They were standing behind cars parked three deep in the intersection at his corner. Luis realized the cars were parked fender to fender on the sidewalks as well as the street. Finally, he understood: The cars provided a barrier between the buildings to keep the dinosaurs out.
Silently, Luis walked up the stairs to his building, feeling for his keys and then his wallet. Both were gone. When he realized the lock had been jimmied, he pushed open the door and went up the stairs. Weak and exhausted he paused often to rest. At the third floor he sat down again, his head hanging, but suddenly he heard a voice.
“Luis? Is that you?”
Luis looked up to see Mrs. Weatherby holding a bag of sugar.
“Oh, Luis, you better come back to my apartment with me. Whatever happened to you?”
“Diablos,” Luis managed to mutter.
“Those horrid young men. What their mothers must think of them!”
Mrs. Weatherby took Luis by the arm, helped him to his feet, and then guided him down the hall.
“Are Melinda and the kids safe? Oh, thank goodness. What are you doing back here? You didn’t come back for me, did you? I told you I would be fine and now look at what’s happened.”
Mrs. Weatherby scolded Luis all the way down the hall to her apartment, but Luis was comforted by it. She directed Luis to her couch and then removed his shoes and covered him with a crocheted bedspread.
Luis and Melinda slept under a larger, similar bedspread— crocheting incessantly, Mrs. Weatherby had turned out a queen-size bedspread for the Ibarra family in less than a year, made up of squares of intricate yellow flowers and green leaves. Mrs. Weatherby had beamed when she saw it in their home and then promised spreads for the girls’ beds too.
Now she returned with a plastic tub of warm soapy water and began washing the blood from his face with a washcloth.
“How did you heat the water, Mrs. Weatherby?”
“Don’t talk, Luis, until I get you cleaned up. When you talk your face wrinkles.”
Luis lay quiet while Mrs. Weatherby cleaned his wounds. While she worked she talked.
“I heated the water with a propane stove I found in the Santinis’ apartment. I know you think I stole it, but I didn’t. I was looking for some sugar to borrow when I found it. Besides, someone had already broken in anyway. All the apartments have been, even yours I’m afraid, Luis. I don’t know what else they took, but your TV and stereo are gone.”
Luis grimaced and groaned but Mrs. Weatherby ignored him.
“By the way, I borrowed the sugar out of your apartment. I left a not
e for you .and Melinda. I’ll repay you when I can get to a store.”
“Don’t go near a store, Mrs. Weatherby. They’ve all been looted anyway—” Mrs. Weatherby hushed him.
“You lie still. I’ll go up to your apartment and get you a change of clothes.”
Luis didn’t bother to protest. Too tired and sore to manage an argument, he lay on Mrs. Weatherby’s couch with his eyes closed and was soon sound asleep.
When he woke, his mouth was dry. When he was sure he could stand without fainting, Luis walked to the kitchen sink, took a glass from the cabinet, and turned on the faucet. Nothing came out. Then he remembered Mrs. Weatherby and the pan of soapy water. Where had she gotten it? And where was she now?
Luis went back to the living room and spotted a neat pile of his clothes on an end table. Mrs. Weatherby had picked out a pair of blue slacks and a white dress shirt. Luis smiled at her choice and decided to use the bathroom to change, in case Mrs. Weatherby came in. He found the bathroom down the hall and closed the door behind him. When he turned, he noticed the top of the toilet tank had been removed and was sitting on the floor. There was a cup on the countertop next to the toilet tank, which was only half full. Luis said out loud, “Very clever.” Convincing himself it was clean water, he took the cup, scooped up some, and quenched his thirst.
When he was finished changing, the apartment was still empty. He was about to start searching the building when he heard a strange sound. “Aaaaah,” loud and hoarse. He followed it to the living room window. When he looked out he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Mrs. Weatherby was on her knees in her garden, working with her flowers. Luis had seen this a thousand times but never seen it in this setting. The dinosaur that had scared the Ibarras out of their apartment was walking toward Mrs. Weatherby with its head down and its mouth open. “Run, Mrs. Weatherby! The dinosaur, run!” Luis yelled out the window.
Mrs. Weatherby looked up and waved. Then she stood and turned toward the approaching dinosaur, which went down on all fours, its huge head still coming directly at her. Luis yelled again but to no avail. Then, the head stopped with its mouth open wide, “aaaahing” louder as Mrs. Weatherby dug in a big satchel. Then she pulled out a bag and stepped forward and dumped the contents in the dinosaur’s mouth. The mouth immediately snapped closed and the jaw began to grind. Next the lips smacked and its massive tongue slipped between the lips, first cleaning the lower lip and then the upper. Then the mouth opened again and the “aaaahing” started all over.
With another bag, Mrs. Weatherby produced the performance again. When the dinosaur opened its mouth a third time Mrs. Weatherby spoke to it sternly. Luis couldn’t make out the words over the “aaaahing” sound. Then to his surprise Mrs. Weatherby put her hands on the animal’s huge jaw and pushed the head away from her. The head barely moved. Mrs. Weatherby slapped the jaw with her hand and pushed again. This time the dinosaur pulled its head up and stood, then turned and walked into the clearing, pausing twice to turn around and “aaaah” softly at Mrs. Weatherby. Then it pulled up a mouthful of grass and walked off chewing into the distance. Behind the retreating monster Luis saw a misty shimmering cityscape. It was an unsettling sight—a dinosaur as tall as a two-story building walking off toward a shimmering city skyline.
Too stunned to speak, Luis stood in the window, not knowing what to say anyway. Mrs. Weatherby called up to him and waved. Numbly Luis waved back and then went to the couch to lie down. Soon he couldn’t tell if he was awake or asleep. Was he hallucinating? Had the Diablos cracked his skull? He couldn’t have seen Mrs. Weatherby hand-feeding a dinosaur, could he? Luis was still trying to sort reality from fantasy when consciousness folded into sleep.
32. Puglisi
The theory that the Cretaceous-Tertiary mass extinction was caused by a meteorite is gaining credibility. It’s not a good theory, but the best there is to explain what happened to the dinosaurs.
—Cindy Wong, the Cretaceous Mystery
Honolulu, Hawaii
PostQuilt: Monday, 9:30 A.M. AHT
Emmett Puglisi reclined in Professor Wang’s new blue executive chair and gently rocked and swiveled, admiring the smooth motion and the deep blue padded armrests. He wondered vaguely if he would someday have this chair too. He’d inherited Dr. Wang’s old chair. When the new one had been delivered, Emmett happened to be walking down the hall. Emmett had asked for the old chair, and she gave it to him. Of course jealous colleagues claimed he kissed up to Dr. Wang for the chair, but it had been a matter of timing, not brownnosing. Dr. Wang had taken pity on him, even though half a dozen associate professors, with seniority on lowly Assistant Professor Puglisi, would have liked the chair. But Emmett had been in the right place at the right time. It had been like that for much of his life.
Emmett had been wait-listed for the graduate program in astrophysics at the University of Hawaii, and only been admitted late in August, just two weeks, before the start of the semester. He fared well in his studies, but as graduation approached his efforts at finding a job had not gone well. He received two phone interviews for instructor positions on the mainland, but no offers and had serious prospects until one of the faculty at the University had taken ill. Then Emmett agreed to fill in on a one-year appointment. That appointment was followed by another to fill a vacancy created by a sabbatical. Another sabbatical followed and another appointment. That year Emmett won a teaching award and co-authored a successful National Science Foundation grant. When a tenure-track position opened up for the next year Emmett had advance information and successfully campaigned for the position.
That was two years ago, and now he found himself in the right place at the right time again. Although this time he wasn’t sure it wasn’t the right place at the wrong time.
Dr. Wang had disappeared along with four of their colleagues. Now there were five empty offices on Emmett’s floor, but only Dr. Wang’s was part of PresNet. Emmett had resisted at first, but the news reports of widespread disaster didn’t ring true to him, and his thirst for understanding grew until he could no longer resist.
Emmett wasn’t authorized to access the PresNet, but he knew Dr. Wang’s computer was networked and would automatically access the system. Once into the system he could read the posted messages, but to send you needed a security code. He had ransacked Dr. Wang’s office until he found it taped to the bottom of her new chair. The little news the islands were getting was confused and impossible to believe. Floods, avalanches, disappearing cities; none of it made sense. As far as he knew, Hawaii had been spared a disaster like those described on the network.
Emmett had hoped the PresNet would have more information, something that could make sense of it. He was disappointed. It was filled with the same kinds of reports being carried on the news, but with more detail and in more variety. The mystery was only getting bigger.
So he sat in total frustration, watching the scientific parade pass him by, his self-pity interrupted only when he heard a tapping at the partially closed door.
Associate Professor Carrollee Chen-Slater came through the door holding two paper cups of coffee. Emmett had his usual mixed reaction. He was happy to see her again, but also a little apprehensive.
She was the only woman in the botany department and was highly regarded for her competence. Carrollee was also valued because of her multicultural background. Her mother was half Nez Perce and a quarter each of Polish and Hispanic, and her father was a mix of Chinese and Swedish. The Slater name came from his stepfather, who adopted him. On her office desk was a sign that read simply MELTED POT.
Carrollee was as popular with students as Emmett was. She’d won a campus teaching award and two departmental awards. Carrollee was also popular among the faculty. She was friendly toward everyone, and everyone appreciated her ready smile and sense of humor. The faculty was also generally amused by the outlandish clothes she wore. Today her brown curly hair was pushed to the right side of her face and held in place with a large silver barrette. Under her unbuttone
d lab coat, Emmett could see a one-piece black jumpsuit with an oversize silver belt with a huge oval buckle. He often wondered if those cover-up lab coats weren’t keeping Carrollee on tenure track.
“You know, Emmett, it’s customary to wait until a person is declared dead before you move into their office. Have you no respect?”
Emmett took Carrollee’s coffee and comments as she meant them, good-naturedly. Carrollee was as amiable a person as Emmett had ever met. He knew she had personally called the families of the missing faculty, and visited some. She was respectful and somber when proper, and genuine tears of empathy came readily. But Carrollee preferred to live her life with a smile and rarely lost it when she was with Emmett.
“I respect the dead, but I covet the position and power of this office.”
“I wouldn’t say that to too many people. The way it looks you’ll become department head by default. They start putting two and two together and you could end up at the top of the suspect list.”
“Suspect? You think some lowly assistant professor wreaked worldwide havoc to become department chairman? I’m flattered you think I have the wherewithal to accomplish this.”
“I don’t think you have the wherewithal to remember to keep your fly closed. Others just don’t know you as well as I do.”
“Thanks, Carrollee,” Emmett said, surreptitiously checking his zipper. “It’s nice to know that no matter how bad things get, you can always make them worse. Of course this time I may have made things worse by myself. Take a look at this.” Emmett swiveled the monitor around to make it easier for Carrollee to read. Her eyebrows went up when she realized he was on the PresNet. Then she clucked her tongue and shook her head.
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