by Tess Sharpe
Izzie was testing different plants’ acidity levels! And the X’s? Suddenly it hits me, and I flip back to her map of the valley, where seemingly random spots bear X’s.
She must have decided that whatever was making the Brachiosauruses sick was environmental. The most logical cause was something they were eating. So Izzie was using one of the basic scientific methods: the process of elimination.
“Allergy testing for dinosaurs,” I say to myself, because it’s clever. It’s a huge undertaking, especially with as many plant species as the valley holds. Did she find the source? I scan the lists of plants with fresh eyes, searching for any difference, anything to make one stand out. My gaze falls on one near the middle of the third column.
Cyanobacteria AC/AK XX
The AC is circled, but the double X is what catches my eye. Cyanobacteria is algae, so I flip back to Izzie’s detailed map of the valley, and sure enough, there it is: a double X positioned on the rocks behind the falls.
It’s the only double X. That has to mean something, right?
I try to put it together. It’s hard, because I’m no biology major. I know I should ask Tanya, but she’ll want all the details. And I’m not ready to spill about Izzie’s notebook yet. Especially with that Watch your back note. When did she receive that? Before her last diary entry? After?
Did someone kill her? Did Mr. Masrani cover it up? Surely he wouldn’t cover up murder. Even Wyatt’s left-in-the-storm story is way more likely than that…right?
My stomach churns as I close the notebook and tuck it under my pillow. I have to get to dinner.
And I have to make a plan. I’m not sure what it involves yet, but I need to get my hands on that algae.
The next afternoon, as we’re all getting ready to go to the valley for Pearl’s big introduction, I chase Eric down in the hall, calling his name.
“What’s up?” he asks.
“When I emptied my bag last night, I found something I totally forgot to ask you about,” I say, fishing out the smashed memory card I picked up in the jungle.
“Where’d you find that?” he asks.
“In the jungle a few weeks ago,” I say. “It’s a memory card that goes in a camera, right?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Not my brand. I use NuTech cards because they’ve got more data and the resolution is way sharper….” He trails off, catching my glazed eyes, and smiles. “These are a little on the lower end. Cheaper. I think Wyatt has a few for his camera, actually, because he kept trying to steal mine, saying they were better, and I had to tell him to quit it.”
“Wait, Wyatt has memory cards like this?” I ask.
“Yeah—I mean, I think so,” Eric says, frowning at my sudden interest. “I kind of try to avoid the guy, I admit. He’s a crappy person and a crappier roommate.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, my mind whirring. Was Wyatt the figure I swear I saw in the jungle that day when everybody was jumping off the waterfall? Was he filming us? That’s so creepy. And weird. Why would he do that?
“Eric, could you pull the images or recordings off this?” I ask.
He takes it from me, examining it. “No,” he says. “It’s pretty smashed, and you say you found it in the jungle? The moisture is a big factor too. Any data would be really corrupted. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I say as he hands it back and I slip it into the front pocket of my bag. “Long shot.”
“You excited for today?” he asks as we join the rest of our group at the elevator.
“And nervous,” I say. “I hope it works.”
“I think it will,” he says. “It’s a neat idea. With enough positive reinforcement, the trainers can work wonders.”
“We’ll have to stock up on strawberries,” Tanya jokes.
“Let’s hope she likes them as much as Lovelace did when she was trapped in the gully,” Amanda adds.
It’s wild to think that was over a month ago, and that in a few days, a new dinosaur will be on Isla Nublar.
“Have you seen how Lovelace keeps scratching her head against stuff in the valley?” Ronnie asks. “It’s so cute.”
“Her horns are growing,” Art says as the elevator finally arrives, and we all crowd inside. “She broke a bunch of saplings the other day. And then ate the tops. You got footage of that, didn’t you, Eric?”
“I’m gonna edit it soon,” Eric promises. The elevator dings open into the lobby, where Justin is waiting for us.
“Do you think they’ll let us do, like, an intern video yearbook?” Amanda asks. It’s hot already as we step outside and walk to the fleet of blue and silver jeeps parked in the lot nearby. She hops into the driver’s seat of the nearest one, and Art takes shotgun as Justin, Eric, and I pile into the back.
“I’ll ask Mr. Masrani,” Eric says. “But probably not. At least not until after the park opens. He won’t want the footage leaked online.”
Amanda purses her lips. “Aw, you’re right,” she says. “That sucks. I’d love to have something to remember this summer by. It’s been so amazing.”
“And we’re not even half done,” Justin adds.
“Just think of the trouble the dinosaurs will get into in the next month and a half,” Art says, shaking his head.
“Well, let’s hope Pearl doesn’t,” Amanda answers firmly, taking a right turn off the main road toward the valley. We all ride in silence for a moment, thinking of the day ahead. Pearl’s future—and the future of many dinosaurs like her—could count on it.
“I think it’s going to work,” I say, almost like it’s a magic wish and if I speak it, it’ll come true.
“It’ll be great,” Amanda says firmly, but she sounds as nervous as I feel.
We pull up to the valley fence, where Bertie and Sarah are waiting for us.
“Hi, everyone,” Bertie says when we all group around her. “The rest of the team’s already setting up at the watering hole. We’re going to head in. Load on up.” She jerks her thumb behind her at the large truck. We climb up into the bed, and she and Sarah jump into the cab. “Hang on,” Bertie calls out the window, and off we go. Justin’s hand presses against mine as I grip the truck railing for support, and he winks at me when I catch his eye.
It’s a whole different experience, riding in the valley in the open air. The wind’s in my hair, and my friends’ laughter rings in my ears. About halfway there, we pass three Gallimimuses sunning themselves, and they perk up as we whiz by, leaping to their feet and running after us, flanking the jeep, almost close enough to touch, though I don’t dare reach out. Their heads are so small and sleek, their long necks powerful, and I can see the muscle definition under their skin, the way the tendons move together, giving them such power. Their bodies and footfalls make the ground under the truck wheels vibrate, and I have to grab the railing to keep steady.
The trio of Gallimimuses races ahead—we’re going too slow for them, I guess—and their powerful back legs propel them to speeds that make my head spin as they disappear ahead of us.
We pass a group of Triceratops that don’t even look up, so I assume it must be a group of the older ones—definitely no Lovelace, who has been excited to see any human every time I’m in this valley. I keep my eyes peeled for one of the Parasaurolophuses, but I’m starting to think they prefer to keep to the other side of the valley. Maybe there’s more flat space to run over there.
Pulling up to the enormous watering hole, we come to a stop in front of a circle of large pillars set strategically around it. I can see Pearl in the distance, splashing in the shallows on the far shore. She’s the only dinosaur in sight.
“Sound barriers,” Bertie explains when we hop out of the truck and Eric asks what they are. “These allow us to do one-on-one in-habitat work with the dinosaurs without the other ones butting in or distracting us.”
“Does it hurt their ears?” I
ask.
“It emits a sound at a frequency they dislike if they pass through it,” Bertie says. “But they don’t. We’ve done a lot of training whenever we put them up, so now they avoid them. They know they get treats if they do.”
“The lure of strawberries is strong,” Justin laughs.
“Pearl actually prefers watermelon,” Bertie says. “Big surprise, since it’s round, like her favorite toy.”
We all laugh at that.
Our ears can’t hear the frequencies the sound towers emit, so we just walk past them toward where the group of trainers are standing with Pearl, who’s stomping her feet in the water, bending down from time to time to select a proffered treat from a trainer’s hand.
“I’ve got security over here.” Bertie points to the clump of trees across the watering hole from us. “And we’re going to roll the Gyrosphere in. We’ll start with the hexagon one.”
“So it’s just…click and treat?” Eric asks. “Like a dog?”
“Positive reinforcement is something that works across a lot of species,” Bertie says. “Even dinosaurs. It’s more complicated with the carnivores, of course, because they see a person and their natural instinct is to think food first and friend second. The caretakers conditioning the carnivores are still in the very beginning stages of how to even properly approach them so the vets can treat them regularly. Each species is so different, which makes it tricky business.”
“Some of them operate like a pack, don’t they?” Ronnie asks.
“That is one theory the caretakers are researching through in-depth observation,” Bertie says. “The next few years will teach us so much, and the more everyone learns, the more we can help and establish trust. Because dominance can work, but trust? Enough trust will get an animal to follow you anywhere.”
“Do you think it’s easier to build trust with the herbivores because they don’t want to immediately eat you?” Tanya asks.
Bertie laughs. “The herbivores do seem to be more responsive to working with humans so far. That’s why we’re able to create features like this valley and use vehicles like the Gyrospheres. Lots of positive reinforcement. Lots of praise. Lots and lots of work to cement the behavior.”
“How can we help?” I ask.
“I’m going to have the girls come with me to the other side of the water, where the Gyrosphere will be introduced,” Bertie says. “This is your project. You should be able to send it on its maiden voyage, so to speak. Justin, Art, Eric—I want you with the trainers. Your job will be to help them distract Pearl until we get the Gyrosphere in position. We don’t want her to charge if she decides it’s of interest, even if she’s across the water. I want this to go as smoothly as possible. Positive experience for everyone, especially Pearl. Okay?”
“We get it,” Eric says. “Come on, guys.”
The boys head off with Sarah, and the girls and I follow Bertie to loop around the watering hole. We hike along the bank, our boots squelching in the mud and tall reeds and grasses. When we reach the opposite shore, I look across the water. The trainers and the guys have moved Pearl so she’s facing away from us, thoroughly engrossed in whatever they’re doing to distract her.
“Is Justin…dancing?” Tanya asks next to me, shading her eyes as she stares across the water.
“Eric too!” Amanda laughs.
They’re right. Both of them are doing what looks like an awkward two-step as Pearl watches with interest while Art and the trainers clap out a rhythm.
Bertie looks over her shoulder. “Whatever distraction works!” she says. “Look, girls!”
We turn our attention to the clump of trees, where the security guards are rolling the hexagon-patterned Gyrosphere out. I glance back over my shoulder, but Pearl’s totally distracted by the guys swirling around in front of her.
“We’ll be right here,” calls the guard, who rolls it over to us on the bank.
“It looks great,” Bertie says, inspecting it closely. “So this is the plan: We’ll stay here on the bank with the sphere while Sarah and the team turn Pearl around so she spots it. We’ll see how she reacts. If she comes toward it slowly, we’ll wait until she’s about three-quarters of the way across the water before we push it to her. Then I want you up on the outer bank there.” She points to where the shoreline fades up to sloping grass. “And if she charges, you girls run and get on the other side of the towers, okay?”
We all nod.
“I’m hoping she’ll be curious and approach it slowly,” Bertie says. “We want to see how she reacts to the toy at first, with no treats, no clickers, no trainers influencing her. After this first session, we can start reinforcing in the next one. Everyone ready?”
The four of us exchange excited glances. “Yep,” I say.
Bertie pulls her radio out of her pocket. “Let’s go,” she says into it.
We watch as the boys end their dance and Sarah steps forward. Pearl’s attention turns to her, and she stretches out her long neck as Sarah offers her a treat. Sarah clicks and treats, clicks and treats, slowly moving with each click so Pearl moves with her. It takes about two minutes to get her turned around, so that Sarah is standing hip-deep in the water and Pearl is facing us.
“She’s in place,” Sarah’s voice crackles over Bertie’s radio.
“Okay, Pearl,” Bertie says under her breath. “Be my good girl.”
We wait for Pearl to notice the big red ball on the other side of the water. I’m holding my breath the whole time, and I can tell the minute it happens. Her body suddenly goes rigid, and her head tilts to the side. Sarah moves out of the way when Pearl steps into the water, and the dinosaur makes waves—literally—as she wades into the depths.
“Good so far,” Bertie says, all her focus on Pearl. “Hold steady, girls. We’ll push the Gyrosphere forward on my signal.”
Pearl’s about halfway across the watering hole. In the middle, it’s deep enough that she’s paddling with her big feet and holding her head high above the water. It’s more than amazing to see in real life something I’ve only seen paintings of in paleontology texts and museum dioramas: a Brachiosaurus swimming.
“Steady,” Bertie repeats as Pearl gets closer. She’s making that burbling sound I’ve become familiar with. It’s not a purr or a lowing like the Triceratops—there’s probably something unique in her throat anatomy that creates it. My body tenses as she draws near, remembering how hard she slammed that other Gyrosphere against the tree in the clearing when it was only Justin and me.
“Now!” Bertie says.
We push with all our might, five pairs of hands shoving the Gyrosphere forward. It lands in the water with a splash, bobbing along the current created by Pearl’s movements, and she follows it, like an enormous moth drawn to a porch light.
My friends and I scramble up the bank, out of the way, like Bertie told us to, but the head trainer stays there right at the edge of the water, ever watchful of her charge.
When Pearl’s almost reached the Gyrosphere, she stretches her neck out and—bop!—bumps it with her nose. It skids across the water, lighter than the real Gyrospheres because it’s empty. Pearl tosses her head, burbling louder as she paddles after her new toy. Bertie follows her along the bank, and we girls follow her too—at a safe distance.
“It’s working!” Amanda says as Pearl hooks her neck around the sphere, pressing it down under the surface. When she releases it and it pops up out of the water, the splash seems to delight and surprise her, because she rears back a little and then jabs forward, attempting the move again.
“This is so cool,” Ronnie says, her eyes glowing.
The boys—minus Eric, who is glued to the shore, recording Pearl’s antics—come hurrying toward us, beaming.
“You four did it!” Art says. “She’s completely into it.”
“I told you hexagons were the way to go,” Ju
stin says to Ronnie, who laughs.
“I owe you ten bucks, it seems.” She grins. “But she might like the polka dots too! You never know. Then it’s a tie.”
“Look, she’s got it out of the water and onto the bank now!” Tanya squeals.
Justin and I exchange a nervous look. This is the real test.
We watch as Pearl lumbers back and forth on the sandy bank, nosing the painted Gyrosphere back and forth along the mud. When it gets stuck in a tangle of tall grass, she pauses, looking expectantly at Bertie, like she wants her to fix the problem.
But Bertie waits for her to solve it herself. Pearl spends a good minute munching on the grasses—probably thinking her way through it—and then delivers a mighty kick to the ball. The Gyrosphere goes flying, spinning over the bank and landing right between two of the sound-barrier towers.
The mournful sound that fills the air sets my teeth on edge. It’s no happy burbling—she’s upset. Pearl moves back and forth, clearly agitated that her new toy isn’t accessible.
“Hey, Bertie, we can push it back for her,” I call down.
Bertie nods. “Go ahead,” she shouts.
“Come on,” I say to my friends. We scramble up the slope and pass the towers, jogging the distance over to the Gyrosphere. Pearl’s come right up to the space between the towers, watching us raptly. She looks torn, if that’s possible. Like she wants to come forward, but she knows if she does, the bad sound will hurt her ears.
“It’s okay, Pearl,” I say.
“We’ll get you back your toy,” Amanda coos. “Just give us a second.”
It takes all of us to roll it up the slope. I’m panting and my palms are sweaty as we reach the top, but then momentum is our friend, and we let it go. It rolls down through the space between the towers and right past Pearl, who lumbers after it in glee. She smacks it into the water again, and off she goes, splashing and trying to dunk it—and never succeeding for long because of the sphere’s buoyancy.
I watch, amazed by the unrestrained joy of her, this giant creature who all the books told us was stately and magnificent—and she is. She’s a miracle.