by Adam Carter
She regretted the snide comment as soon as she had made it, for she could see how guilty he felt. But she was tired, irritable and concerned for her friend, and did not much care what Monroe felt like at that moment in time.
“We need to get back in the air,” she said. “Have you been sweeping the land properly?”
“I don’t know. I’ve just been looking.”
Which meant she might have to begin the search again. But she would do that once she had had a chance to check the scene of attack. “Take me back to the bike.”
“I checked that area.”
“And I’m going to check again.”
To his credit, Monroe did not argue. The two climbed aboard and took to the air.
They did not speak as they travelled. Garrel stood at the edge of the basket, her hands grasping the side as she peered down at the world raging below. There were vast tracts of plains, ragged rocky mountainous regions and of course the scattering of trees and the great woodland. It amazed her how very little there was of anything else, although now there were patches of water, even unnatural streams, added to the landscape. She could imagine Ceres being like any other world, and wondered what else they would discover were they to set the copter on a straight course of exploration.
A pack of small carnivores scavenging through the rocks gave her pause for thought regarding this, and she knew she could not afford to concentrate on such things.
“We destroyed the buggy,” Monroe said behind her. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t care about the buggy.”
“I’ll pay for it. I know it comes out of your pay if it ...”
“I don’t care about the damn buggy.” Garrel tightened her grip on the basket, trying to keep her anger in check. She liked to feel as though she blamed Monroe for what had happened, but the truth was he was not to blame. She had worked for people like Monroe before and had always known what they were like. You didn’t trust them with anything and steered clear of them whenever possible. It was not Monroe who was to blame here, but her. She had been the one in charge of security and she had let Monroe talk Allen into going out with him. She should have warned Allen about him, should have taken the time to explain just what people like Monroe were like. The shepherd cannot blame the wolf for eating the sheep if the shepherd hasn’t bothered setting up a wire fence.
The surprising thing was that Monroe seemed remorseful, seemed to genuinely realise he had done the wrong thing and wanted to make up for it. Otherwise he would not have disregarded her orders and stolen the copter.
She should have perhaps granted him some leeway because of this, although it only made her warier.
They made it back to the bike within ten minutes, the copter able to take the direct route between the two points. Their landing was smoother this time, for Garrel had taken the controls. She could see even before disembarking that the bike was in bad shape, but as she looked it over she could find no sign that Allen had been on the bike when it had been damaged. Most likely her unexpected communication had startled him into crashing, and a dinosaur had taken umbrage at the running engine and had attacked it, thinking it was issuing a challenge.
Monroe showed her where he had found the carcass of an animal and as they approached several scavengers fled with whatever they could carry. Garrel tried to breathe through her mouth as she bent to examine the bite marks and tears made upon the animal’s corpse. Whatever had made the kill had been large, probably a small tyrannosaurid. She knew of at least two species of tyrannosaurid in this area, which was what had made her so wary of what Travers had seen in the woodland so long ago.
She looked to the woodland now, wondering whether Allen could have been chased in there. It would be a logical place for him to run, although she doubted it would have done much to save his life.
“You’re thinking he’s in the woods,” Monroe said.
“I’m thinking you need to go back to the camp while I go off looking for him. Take the copter and give me your gun.”
“What gun?”
“Don’t kid me, Professor. You wouldn’t have come out here unarmed, so hand it over and get out of here.”
Monroe seemed about to argue further, although lowering his head he withdrew a pistol from where he had it tucked into the back of his trousers. Garrel accepted it and checked its ammunition. There were several shots remaining in the clip, and if they weren’t enough to bring down a small tyrannosaurid she doubted extra bullets would have done her much good. She suddenly remembered the disc she had taken from the temple and decided she had no need to take it any farther with her so handed it over to the Professor. “Make yourself useful and see what’s on here.”
“What is it?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be asking you to check.”
Monroe turned the disc slowly over in his hands and Garrel could see he was trying to form words he was not used to saying. “I feel bad just leaving,” he said at last.
“To be honest you’d just get in my way.”
“But it’s my fault Allen’s in this mess.”
“Allen’s probably dead. There’s likely not even a body left. But I’m going to see what I can find. You need to get out of my way.” She could see he was upset by everything that had happened and felt a pang of remorse for him. “Professor Travers is all alone back at camp,” she said gently. “Watch over her until I get back.”
“You think the dinosaur will attack the camp?”
“No. Our repelling devices have kept them at bay so far, I can’t see why they would fail now. But she might be a little scared.”
“I doubt she’s even noticed I’m missing.”
If he was going to fall back into his old self-absorbed pity Garrel suddenly lost all willingness to pander to his ego. “Just go,” she told him and headed off into the woods. She did not wait to find out whether he obeyed her orders, but Monroe was an adult and could do whatever he wanted.
Swallowed by the trees, Garrel cast her senses around her, listening especially for any signs there was anything amiss. The birdsong was as it should have been, and there were no strange scents to the air. She walked slowly at first, but built up speed quickly. There was an obvious spoor of a large animal that had come this way, and there were more than just a few trees either with gouges or else entirely uprooted. It was not promising, but it gave her something to track, and clutching her pistol that was just what she did.
After a few minutes she found evidence of what appeared to have been an angry explosion from the monster, for trees were splintered and leaves were strewn up as though there had been a scuffle. There were no blood that she could see, yet she knew she could search for hours and still find nothing. If the creature had been large enough to swallow Allen in one or two bites there might well not be any blood at all.
She bent to examine the ground, feeling the imprint of the tracks and discerning a direction of travel. She froze in her crouch, her body experiencing a sudden shiver. She could hear something behind her, something moving in a slow shuffle, accompanied by a low and dull moan.
She desperately hoped it was Monroe.
Turning her head very slightly she could see something standing only twenty metres away, locking eyes with her as its prey. It was large, with powerful rear legs and short forearms. Its bulky body was muscle, not fat, and with its counterbalancing tail and great head atop its long, horizontal neck, the thing was unmistakably carnivorous.
The creature opened its serrated maw and issued a challenge.
Garrel levelled the gun she had taken from Monroe. She cursed the shaking of her hand and used the other to steady it, but it still did little good. She cracked off a shot, but wherever the bullet went it certainly didn’t go anywhere near the dinosaur. The beast grew angry at the sound and she fired again, once more missing her target. She had been hoping the sound alone would have been enough to scare the dinosaur away, but it treated the sound as though it was not an unknown noise.
It took a single
step forward and Garrel knew her pistol would do nothing to deter the thing. She bolted into the trees before it could even begin its charge. She heard its light pad behind her as this expert, swift hunter gave chase through the trees. If this was the thing which had killed Tom Allen, she could only surmise it had developed a strong taste for human meat.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Professor Travers could not abide all these constant interruptions. First Allen had gone out to impress the girl who was clearly not interested in the slightest, then Monroe had gone out after him and in the process taken the last of their vehicles. Now Monroe was back, and while he may have brought the copter with him, Travers was beginning to wish he had just stayed outside and gone after Allen with Garrel. In fact, of all of them, it was Garrel for whom Travers held the most respect. She knew her job and just got on with it. Allen had been fine until they had got here. She had chosen to bring him because he was young and obedient, but since coming to Ceres he seemed to have developed a restless streak and followed Garrel around like a lovelorn teenager. It was not what Travers had expected of him, but if that was the way he was going to behave she could have done without him as well. Travers may have been given tight deadlines, but if Allen had his mind elsewhere he was going to make mistakes.
Once Monroe had left the camp, believing he had sneaked out, Travers had been able to get on with her work. It had been a blissful time without any of them. Now he was back and pacing again, she was working much more slowly than she had been.
“Why did you come back?” she asked at last, trying not to bark.
“Garrel told me to.”
“And when was the last time you did something someone told you to?”
Monroe paused in his pacing. She could see him thinking, but he still wasn’t leaving her alone. “I keep doing the wrong thing, Travers. I’m not used to dealing with people in this way, and I’m doing it all wrong.”
“You’re winding people up without even realising?”
“Yes,” he said hopefully. “You understand.”
Travers wondered how anyone could be so dense. She made a point of setting down her tools, showing him that she was unable to work with him hovering over her like he was. “This world,” she began, not even knowing where she was going with this but feeling she had to tell him something to get rid of him. “This world is amazing. It’s not just prehistoric, it’s primal. There are no inhibitions here, no laws. And there are only four people on the entire world. You can do whatever you like here, say whatever you want. The social rules you’ve lived by your whole life ... none of them count any more. While we’re here on Ceres no one can tell us what to do, no one can tell us how to behave. But,” she added sternly, “that’s all going to change when we get home. And when that happens I’m going to have to produce results. Allen and Garrel can go off into the woods playing Tarzan all they like, but they’re not going to have to answer for anything when they get home. And you ... Well, you have enough money not to care what anyone thinks.”
“You think they’ll fire you?”
“I think this is the human race’s one chance to find out precisely what’s going on here, just where Ceres came from and why. I have the responsibility to provide some answers about it, and I can’t do that with people hanging around me who are too busy delving into their souls to concentrate on what they’re doing.”
Monroe looked at her a moment in silence. “Are you telling me I’m in the way?”
Travers sighed, exasperated. “You’re always in the way. Your money’s not, but you, physically, have never been anything else.” She rubbed at the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger. “What I’m saying is that this is a free world, Monroe. Freer than anything we’ve ever known. Just because Garrel tells you to do something, it doesn’t mean you have to do it. You want to stay here and pace? Stay here and pace. You want to go back out there and see if you can help? Go out there and help. You want to see a dinosaur, right? Have you seen one yet?”
“No.”
“Then go find a dinosaur. Find a dinosaur and make yourself happy.”
Monroe thought about her words and Travers was delighted to see she seemed to be getting through to him. “You’re right,” he said, something breaking in him, something being released. He stood taller, stronger, and perhaps he had become a new man: Travers did not care, so long as he left her in peace. “I’ll be back with Garrel and Allen,” he told her and walked out once more.
Travers returned to her work. So long as he returned with them slowly, that would suit her just fine.
*
She tore through the woods knowing she would not be able to outrun the creature giving chase. Garrel did not stop, did not pause, did not so much as even think about slowing down. In her research of dinosaurs prior to coming to Ceres she had focused upon the carnivores, knowing they had the potential to cause the most damage. There were two types of carnivorous dinosaur she was most concerned with, and she did not care for the technical terms. She had labelled them small carnivores and big carnivores, and all of them were what were known as theropods. It did not matter how big or small the creatures were, they all looked pretty much the same; thick, powerful legs, smaller arms, lithe, well-muscled body, counterbalancing tail and neck and vicious head. There were differences between each animal, but all dinosaur carnivores shared this appearance. The smaller dinosaurs were more likely to hunt in packs, and were an even distribution of scavengers and hunters. They were dangerous, and just because they were small it did not make them any less lethal. She could not help but imagine piranhas tearing apart their prey with equal ferocity. The larger carnivores were more likely to be loners, and hunters. There had been many debates regarding this over the years, but modern research seemed to agree that this was the case. Before coming to Ceres, Garrel had known to fear the smaller pack animals, but that it only took one shark to rip her to shreds.
The creature chasing her tore through the woods on massive hind legs, and she knew the trees would not slow it indefinitely. She was not entirely certain of her dinosaur classification, but she believed the creature was called an albertosaurus. It was difficult to tell, considering she had of course never seen a live albertosaurus, let alone knew how to differentiate between one and any other large theropod with only a momentary glance. It was strange how much Garrel was even thinking about such things as she ran for her life, for ultimately it did not matter at all the name of the thing. The bottom line was that it could kill her with a single snap of its massive jaws.
Garrel could see a cluster of trees ahead which was denser than any through which she had thus far passed, and her hope was that the dinosaur would be slowed by it. The best result she could hope for would be for the creature to lose sight of her, but there were so many conflicting theories on which sense dinosaurs used for hunting that she did not want to place her fate to chance. Throwing her arms ahead of her, she charged through the thick brush, deciding she would have to take things as she came to them and focus on her prayer getting her through this alive.
Breaking out the other side, Garrel saw what looked like a slope leading to lower ground, and leaping for this she poured on as much speed as she could.
Her foot passed through the loose brush and she felt herself bodily falling down the slope, tumbling end over end, the world exploding around her in panic and frustration. Then an intense coldness shot through her and she felt incredibly heavy as she was dragged away from the air. Garrel broke the surface of the muddy pool, formed by the intense rains of the previous few days, and looked about. Her feet touched the bottom of the pool, and it only stretched around ten metres in any direction. The water was thick and muddy, and as she slogged her way to the far side she became well aware that at the top of the rise the carnivore had paused to gaze down upon her. Glancing back towards it, she could see she had fallen farther than she had thought: around three times the height of the dinosaur. She could see it was apprehensive about giving pursuit, and wished she could move a litt
le faster through the muddy water.
“Sara!”
“Tom!”
Tom Allen was at the side of the filthy pool. He took two steps in and reached for her hand, pulling her to dry land. Garrel threw her arms about him, her soiled, wet hair slapping into his face. She laughed with pure joy, felt relief flood through her along with an intense heat which warmed her even through the chill waters clinging to her clothes. Breaking away, she could see his grin was equal to her own, although as she spoke he shushed her gently.
“It’s good to see you,” he said quietly.
“You put the loose leaves at the top,” Garrel said, realising suddenly that Allen was not as useless as he had always seemed.
“Well, it was supposed to give the deltadromeus a tumble, maybe even break a few bones, but if it saved you from being eaten I’ll go with that.”
“I’m impressed,” she said, and meant it. Looking upon him now she could see nothing of the gung-ho annoyance that had always hung around Allen. His face was dirty, his clothes torn, and there was a stern realism to his expression. He had survived through his wits, by using his mind against the monsters of this world, and it was something she never thought she would have thought about him. Even if asked yesterday she would not have said it was possible.
“Where’d you learn all these survival skills?” she asked.
“From you, silly.”
“Me?”
“Some of the things you ran through with us. Others I just picked up from watching you.”
“Seems stalking does have its advantages after all then.”
He smiled at that, and she could see some of the old Tom Allen still there. He seemed sorry for the way he had treated her, and she did not think she could handle both men in her life having a sudden epiphany of character.
“We should leave,” she said, “before that thing works its way down. Oh, I don’t think it’s a deltadromeus, by the way. It’s slightly larger: I’d place it as an albertosaurus.”