Watching the tyrannosaur, Nick quickly concluded the dinosaur was alive in a different time flow than the one Nick was in, and the tyrannosaur’s time flow was faster than the one Nick occupied. Nick was intrigued with the concept of variable time flow, speculating about a connection to explain variable speed of light (VSL). Interestingly, condensed matter influenced the speed of light, and transient dense matter produced by nuclear explosions created the time waves that swept the dinosaurs into the present. It was not too big a leap to connect VSL and variable time. Nick could even visualize a means of traveling into the future and past by jumping from one time flow to another. Unfortunately, all that had to wait until Nick could assess the threat the moon dinosaur represented.
A violent shaking broke Nick’s reverie, his arms clutching the armrests tightly even before Nick could tell them to. With his feet still on the desk, Nick bounced on his bottom. Then the trembling stopped. Only after the earthquake was over did Nick remember that he should have left the building or found an archway to stand in.
Nick’s phone rang. It was Kaylee Kemper, his administrative assistant.
“Dr. Paulson, Dr. Gah from the Ocala Dinosaur Preserve called about a man trying to claim the reward for an untagged dinosaur,” Kaylee said.
“Did you feel the earthquake?” Nick asked.
“Yes, Dr. Paulson,” Kaylee said. “I think it was stronger than the last one.”
“Last one?” Nick asked.
“It happened when you were in Paris,” Kaylee said. “There was one around Christmas too, I think. I barely felt that one.”
Nick thought that was an unusual number of earthquakes for the region, but realized he did not know much about the geology of Washington, D.C. Were three earthquakes in six months unusual?
“What do you want to do about the man claiming the untagged dinosaur reward?” Kaylee asked.
The reward for untagged dinosaurs was a gimmick used by the Office of Security Science, and the Dinosaur Rangers, to reassure the public about dinosaur safety. The few tagless dinosaurs reported under the program turned out either to be frauds with their subcutaneous tags cut out, or unregistered dinosaurs that wandered away from a private reserve. There was no reward for pet dinosaurs or illegally bred dinosaurs.
“Another fraud?” Nick asked.
“No, that’s why Dr. Gah called. He examined the carcasses, and they were untagged. He said there were no signs the tags were cut out.”
“Carcasses?” Nick probed.
“The claimant had two of them,” Kaylee confirmed. “Both velociraptors.”
Nick sucked air through his teeth, thinking. Unconsciously, he jotted notes on yellow sticky pads. “They have to be fakes.”
“You want me to tell them to deny the claim?”
Nick looked at the video loop of the twisting, turning tyrannosaur. Could there be a connection?
“Where’s John Roberts?” Nick asked.
“Mr. Roberts is in Berlin for the International Conference on Dinosaur Management.”
Nick hesitated, knowing he wanted to handle the call, but also knowing there would be consequences. Most troubling was the fact he would have to explain this to Elizabeth.
Nick and Elizabeth had been married for eight years now, but had known each other for a decade before that. Both career-oriented, they were perfect for each other in that they expected to come second to each other’s job. Keeping her maiden name, Elizabeth Hawthorne was currently a Washington, D.C., lobbyist, and former chief of staff for President McIntyre. When the present collided with the Cretaceous past, President McIntyre ordered the use of nuclear weapons to try to reverse the catastrophe and bring back the world’s missing cities and citizens, and send the dinosaurs back to the past. Instead, the massed detonations froze the dinosaurs in the present. That decision ensured that President McIntyre was a one-term President and ended Elizabeth’s political career.
Nick was science adviser then, and a relationship with Elizabeth began that developed into love, then marriage, and now into the deep and abiding affection they had for each other. While they gave each other a lot of space to pursue their careers, Elizabeth had elicited a promise from Nick to let younger people do the fieldwork. Keeping that promise had been relatively easy, until now.
“Tell Dr. Gah I’m on my way and ask him to keep the man who brought the velociraptors there. I want to talk to him. And Kaylee, make arrangements to get me there.”
“Commercial?” Kaylee asked. “Or are you in a hurry?”
“Get the jet,” Nick said.
“Do you want me to call Ms. Hawthorne and tell her what you are doing?” Kaylee asked. “Or are you going to do it?”
“I’ll be back before she knows I’m gone,” Nick said.
“You better hope so,” Kaylee said.
6
Hatching
Velociraptors were all claws and teeth. With thirty curved teeth, three-fingered clawed hands, and four-toed clawed feet, the meat-eating velociraptors evolved to be efficient killers.
—John Roberts, OSS, Director of Field Operations
Present time
Near Hillsdale, Florida
Carefully, Jeanette moved straw aside, revealing a gently rocking raptor egg. Pushing her nose into the straw, Sally sniffed suspiciously and then snorted. Picking up the egg, Jeanette turned it over. The egg stopped rocking. Examining it carefully, she found the surface unbroken.
“Maybe they move like this all the time?” Jeanette said, holding the egg close to Sally.
Sally pushed her nose against the egg in Jeanette’s hand. The egg began rocking again. Surprised, Jeanette almost dropped it. Putting it down gently, Jeanette dug in the straw, checking the other eggs. One other was rocking. Then, from outside, came the shriek and whine of police sirens. Jeanette shoved the egg deep into the straw, hastily throwing more over the top.
“Stop moving,” Jeanette whispered, gently patting the straw.
Sally was already at the door, frozen, listening to the sirens—they were close, but not too close. Stepping outside, Jeanette saw police lights at the farm down the road. Police rushed the front door, using a ram to bust inside. Like rats scurrying from a burning building, young men jumped out windows or bolted out the back door. Shocked by the number of men in the house, Jeanette watched in fascination as the cops gave chase. One fleeing man sprinted toward Dinosaur Wrangler property, two cops on his heel.
“Sally,” Jeanette called.
Sally came close, putting her nose in Jeanette’s cupped hand. Seeing the onrushing man, Sally stiffened, then huffed and barked.
“Good dog,” Jeanette said.
The runner made it to the barbed-wire fence but the cops pulled him down before he could clear it. Relieved, Jeanette relaxed, scratching Sally’s head. Jerked to his feet, the man made eye contact, glaring at Jeanette. Jeanette recognized him as one of the regulars at the farm next door.
“I’ll get you for this, bitch!” he shouted.
“I didn’t do anything!” Jeanette shouted back.
Now handcuffed, the man started another curse, but a cop slapped the man on the back of his head.
“Shut the hell up!” the cop said.
“It wasn’t me!” Jeanette shouted again.
An hour later, another cop came to the door wearing a T-shirt with POLICE written in bright yellow. Jeanette recognized him as the county inspector who cited the neighbors for code violations. Jeanette talked to him through the closed door, Sally’s nose pressed against the screen, sniffing the deputy, tail wagging.
“You’re a cop?” Jeanette asked.
“Yeah,” he said, holding open a leather badge holder, showing a gold star with a color outline of Florida in the middle. The words DEPUTY SHERIFF curved around the top of the central image, and LAKE COUNTY FLORIDA was written underneath. “I’m Deputy Wilson. I thought I better come over and explain.”
Like most men who talked to Jeanette, he let his eyes wander whenever she looked aside, so she
always kept eye contact. The long eye contact either intimidated men or was misinterpreted as interest. The police officer was taller than Jeanette, but not by much—maybe five foot ten. With black hair cut short in military style, delicate features, and small chin, he was a little too pretty for a man, especially a tough guy like a cop. He was close-shaved, showing no stubble.
“We were pretty sure we knew what was going on in the house but couldn’t pry a warrant out of a judge. Then you called the county, and we kind of took advantage of it so we could get a closer look. I posed as the county inspector, but they wouldn’t let me inside. It didn’t matter. You could smell what was what from the outside.”
“What was what?” Jeanette repeated, gently making fun of Deputy Wilson.
“They had a meth lab in the basement. Don’t worry, a hazmat team is coming to clean it up.
“Glad I could help.”
“So, are you alone?”
Jeanette glared at him.
“I’m just asking because a couple of those guys were making threats,” Deputy Wilson added quickly. “They think you tipped us about the lab.”
“Oh, great!”
“I told them you had nothing to do with it,” Wilson said. “So I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. They’re not getting out anytime soon anyway. There’s at least two parole violations among those assholes, and one is a two-time loser. He’ll be gone for life. Besides, with the lab confiscated, there’s nothing to come back for.”
“Except me,” Jeanette said, surprised how scared she was.
“So, if you’re alone out here, I could stop by once in a while. Just to make sure you’re okay.”
“This is my boyfriend’s place,” Jeanette said.
“Okay. That’s good,” Deputy Wilson said, not hiding his disappointment. “I’m sure nothing will happen but … I thought … Well, it’s good you’re not alone.”
“Thanks for caring,” Jeanette said.
“Here’s my number, just in case,” Deputy Wilson said.
His number was on the back of a napkin from Wendy’s. Jeanette took the napkin, wishing she had a dollar for every phone number men had given her. Deputy Wilson walked to the road and then toward the police circus next door. He looked back twice. Jeanette waited until he was with the cops, and then she went to the steel building.
The straw pile was not moving. Sally sniffed the spot anyway.
“I think this is a good sign,” Jeanette said.
Jeanette pushed her hand into the straw, feeling for the moving egg. Touching something slimy, she jerked her hand out, gasping and stepping back at the same time. Sally yelped, surprised by the sudden move. Waiting for her heart to recover, Jeanette gently brushed straw from the spot, slowly revealing a pink, wiggling baby raptor.
“This isn’t good, Sally,” Jeanette said.
Taking cues from Jeanette’s body language and tone, Sally sniffed the raptor chick suspiciously.
Carefully, Jeanette scooped the chick from the straw, pulling its lower body from broken pieces of shell. It wiggled, its eyes closed.
“Carson’s not going to like this,” Jeanette said.
Then the chick’s eyes opened, fixing on Jeanette. It was six inches long—Jeanette could crush the chick in one hand—yet she was afraid. Subconsciously, Jeanette knew what the chick would grow into and what raptors and their larger cousins ate—every living thing. The chick opened and closed its eyes, and then its mouth, Jeanette discovering baby raptors came ready to shred meat—it had teeth. Then Jeanette saw more movement in the straw. Brushing carefully, Jeanette uncovered another chick, peeking through a hole in its shell. Two more eggs were rocking.
“Sally, we’ve got a problem!” Jeanette said.
“Woof,” Sally agreed.
7
Raid
These dinosaurs are hadrosaurs, but most people call them “duck-billed dinosaurs” because of their long flat snouts. They were one of the last dinosaurs to appear on the Earth, just before the age of dinosaurs came to an end. Duck-billed dinosaurs roamed the Earth in giant herds, and there were so many of them that people call them the cows of the Cretaceous. We think that duck-bills were likely the favored food of Tyrannosaurus rex.
—Nick Paulson, lecture to students of New James John Grade School, Portland, Oregon
Unknown Time
Neverland
They saw no guards, but skirted possible watch points. The humans rarely entered Inhuman territory, let alone raided the valley the Inhumans used as a corral. They counted on the security being light. Only Mel had actually seen the corral, so he led the way. Jacob brought up the rear, his eyes busy, his rifle ready.
Climbing down the box end of the canyon, the humans picked their way carefully, afraid of dislodging loose rock. Jacob climbed down with the others, knowing it was a bad idea but not willing to let the others down. As a rifleman, Jacob protected their backs. At the bottom, the humans hid among the rocks, looking for guards.
“So far, so good,” Mel Williams whispered.
“Hell yeah!” Crazy Kramer said too loud.
Everyone shushed him.
“Hell yeah,” Crazy Kramer whispered.
Now Willy Williams took the lead, keeping close to the canyon wall. The narrow end was rocky, but it quickly widened out into a small, lush valley. The herd was here, milling, grazing confidently, free of predators. A small waterfall poured from the rim, down to a lake along the east side of the canyon. The lake spilled out to form a marsh, streams running all the way to the valley outlet. At the far end of the valley were the stone pillars that kept the herd penned, and beyond that, lava rock that protected the valley from the carnivores like the Albertosaurus, Deinonycus, and T. rex. Smaller predators could navigate the lava forest, but the hadrosaurs in the valley were too big for them to hunt.
The Inhumans maintained a herd of about fifty hadrosaurs as a food reserve. The crested and duck-billed dinosaurs were semi-tame, despite the fact the Inhumans regularly culled the herd. Sprinkling the valley were the bleached bones of their kills. Ranging from the size of a small car to a bus, the bipedal hadrosaurs grazed in a loose herd, a third standing in marsh, sunk to their knees.
The hunters waited, letting Willy select the animal to kill.
“That one,” Willy said, pointing.
Medium sized, the animal limped, a crust of blood on one knee. The humans had never hunted a hadrosaur before, since the only hadrosaurs near their home were in this valley. Wherever the Inhumans got the animals was not near human territory. Hadrosaurs did not mix with the herds the humans hunted. However, the duck-billed dinosaurs were bipedal, and that meant fast.
Following hand signals, the hunters spread out, staying low, moving slowly, creeping up on the limping hadrosaur. Periodically, one of the hadrosaurs would lift its head, watch the humans advance, and then put its head back down and eat, moving slowly away from the humans. The limping hadrosaur followed the same pattern, but moved more slowly, favoring its injured leg. With a signal from Willy, the humans all laid down, ferns and other low vegetation hiding them from the hadrosaurs. The herd stopped moving away, resuming the random milling. Occasionally, a juvenile would kick up its heels, prancing, splashing, and pawing up gobs of mud.
It was cool in the ferns, the ground moist, soaking through the ragged clothes that Jacob wore. Flies buzzed his head, and then a mosquito landed on the back of his hand. Cradling the rifle and needing to move slowly, it had a belly full of his blood before he freed a hand to squish it. If I had to get sent back in time, why couldn’t it be before mosquitoes evolved? Jacob thought.
Hidden in the vegetation, the hunters switched to sound signals. A series of soft whistles from Willy put them in motion. Six hunters inched slowly through the ferns and canes, forming a semicircle around the limping hadrosaur. The others hung back, ready to pursue if needed. Light gusts from the open end of the valley kept their scent away from the hadrosaur until it was partially surrounded. Suddenly suspicious, the hadro
saur rose to its full height, rearing back on its legs, peering down into the vegetation. Alerted, others in the herd assumed the same position, all oriented toward the humans.
“Now!” Willy shouted.
Hunters erupted from the ferns, bows and spears launched. Reared back as it was, the hadrosaur had exposed its neck, and arrows and spears buried into its upper chest and neck. Ready with his rifle, Jacob tracked the screaming dinosaur, still rocked back, now clawing at its neck. The rest of the herd stampeded away from the attack toward the lake, splashing through the marsh. Too stupid, or too scared to run, the hadrosaur continued to stand tall, clawing its neck. It would run soon.
“Crazy!” Jacob called to Crazy Kramer who was reloading his spear thrower.
A huge grin on his face, Crazy partially turned, only half-aware of Jacob.
“Take out its knee!” Jacob yelled.
Confused, Crazy looked back and forth, Jacob frantically pointing at his own knee. Finally, understanding dawned. Just as the hadrosaur rocked back down, Crazy let fly, his spear burying in the wounded knee. Now the hadrosaur squealed from pain, or the unfairness of being singled out from the herd. Hopping on one leg, moving in a circle, more arrows and spears hitting home, and the hadrosaur went down. Willy raced forward, using his razor-sharp knife to slice deep into its neck, searching for the artery. Blood spurted and the hunt was over.
Not waiting for the hadrosaur to die, Willy and Mel went to work, using a boning knife to slice it from anus to sternum, and then reached in to pull out arms full of guts. The hadrosaur writhed in agony at first and then twitched and died. Other hunters sorted the intestines, packing some, then taking the liver and heart. Then they went to work, cutting ten-pound steaks and roasts from haunches, rump, and shoulders. Precision and pride were gone; the meticulously honed knives flew, chunks of meat tossed to men standing in two lines to take, wrap, and pack the meat. The bone saw remained in the pack, feeling there was no time to cut out ribs. When every man had all the meat he could carry, they left the rest. Half the animal was untouched, and it pained them to walk away.
Dinosaur Thunder Page 5