Cretaceous Sea

by Will Hubbell

  The dinosaur was carried by the current about fifty yards to a stretch of water closer to the near shore. There it regained its footing. It stood motionless for a minute, catching its breath before wading to shallower water close to Rick and Joe. Only when the animal was almost at the riverbank did it head upstream to rejoin the herd. It moved slowly, limping with its right front leg. Rick and Joe did not notice that the Dromaeosauruses had entered the river until they approached the stranded animal. Three cut off its path to the herd while the other two approached from the rear. The Torosaurus lowered its head so its horns pointed at the three predators block-ing its way. It made a short, feinting charge, and they backed off. The Torosaurus was still shaking its head at its three foes when one of the other two Dromaeosauruses rushed and dug its claws into the Torosaurus's flank. The Torosaurus bellowed and whirled about. Its attacker re-leased its grip and retreated. Another Dromaeosaurus charged. It dug its claws into its victim's flank, straightened its arms, and jumped. As it rose, it slashed out with its large toe claw. The claw raked through skin and muscle. The Torosaurus, bellow-ing in pain, swung around, but its tormentor leapt beyond its reach. The drawing of first blood seemed to encourage the predators, for they moved in closer. Still, they at-tacked warily, quickly darting in and, just as quickly, retreating. Although the beleaguered Torosaurus was still able to fend off most attacks, the number of its wounds steadily increased. With each long, bloody gash, its abil-ity to defend itself diminished. Eventually, it stood still, seeming unable or unwilling to move. A Dromaeosaurus dug its claws into its prey's ribs and kicked repeatedly at its belly, tearing it open. Intestines tumbled out. The Torosaurus's hoarse, high-pitched wail seemed almost mournful to Rick. Spurred by pain, it sud-denly twisted around and impaled its assailant with one of its horns. The skewered Dromaeosaurus thrashed about as the Torosaurus lifted and shook its head. After a min-ute, its attacker hung limp. The great horned head drooped, and the carnivore slid off into the river. It slowly tumbled in the current, its blood mingling with its victim's. That was the Torosaurus's last act of defiance. Its head remained drooped, yet it stood on unsteady legs. Rick could hear its labored breathing. One of the Dro-maeosauruses bit the intestines trailing in the river and began to tug at them.

  "How can you watch this?" said Joe, raising his gun to fire.

  Rick stopped him by putting his hand on the barrel. "It's nature's way. You eat meat, don't you?"

  "Not like that!"

  "It's all the same in the end."

  The four remaining predators swarmed over their help-less prey in a final frenzy of kicking and slashing. The Torosaurus fell over on its side and lay still in the red-stained water. The frenzy subsided. The Dromaeosau-ruses began to feed. After the violence of the kill, the scene seemed almost peaceful. As Rick and Joe watched the carnivores feast, they saw the Torosaurus move one last time. A huge crocodile had seized its tail. The Dromaeosauruses watched helplessly as their meal was dragged off into deep water and dis-appeared.

  "Why this is just a vacation paradise!" said Joe. "Let's go-" Rick was reluctant to leave, but acquiesced. He turned for one last look and saw the four remaining Dromaeo-sauruses crossing the river to follow the herd.

  10

  THAT LITTLE DRAMA PUT ME OFF MY FEED," SAID JOE

  once they were airborne. "I suggest we find more suitable viewing for our guests." Rick realized Joe was right; the raw struggle between life and death was not tourist fare. They needed to find more picturesque locales.

  They roamed through the sky and found many places wor-thy of a return visit. On a plain between two foothills, they discovered a small lake that served as a watering hole. Its shores were visited by all kinds of dinosaurs, some of which were new to Rick. A larger lake had a low island that was a nesting site for a colony of Anatosauruses, duckbilled dino-saurs over forty feet long. The entire colony was engaged in constructing bowl-shaped nests from mud. They located a herd of sauropods using their long necks to browse in the treetops. Although these animals were not nearly as large as the giants of earlier periods, they still made an impressive sight. Farther north, Rick and Joe discovered a herd of cer-atopsids that stretched over several miles. Rick counted at least seven different species of horned dinosaurs among the teeming thousands. This herd, like the one that crossed the river, seemed to be migrating. In its wake, the land looked trampled and bare. Following the devastation were packs of Dromaeosauruses. Later, they spotted a pair of Tyrannosaurs feasting on a carcass. There was too little left to identify the species of their meal. Above the feeding carnosaurs circled a pterosaur, waiting to scavenge their leftovers. It was the size of a small airplane. Returning over the inland sea, they located an island that was a rookery for tens of thousands of pterosaurs. Later, they spied a sandbar where dozens of pie-siosaurs basked in the afternoon sun. Each time they located a memorable sight, Joe entered its position on a holographic map. By the time they returned to the island, Rick felt con-fident they had locations for several excursions. Rick was in a buoyant mood as he and Joe walked back to camp. The island looked lovely in the low, clear light of late afternoon. A clean-smelling breeze blew in from the sea. Rick was excited and uplifted by what he had seen and felt fully recompensed for the morning that had begun so badly. Peter Green was walking up the path as they neared camp. Rick flashed him a broad grin. Green did not return the smile as he stopped on the path. The grin quickly faded from Rick's face as he saw his employer's irate expression.

  "Joe, go check in with James," said Green. "I need to talk to Rick." As Joe left, Green riveted his eyes on Rick. Their coldness contrasted with his flushed complexion.

  "Where have you been?"

  "I've been working."

  'The hell you were. That girl was a pain in the ass all day."

  "But James said to ..."

  "/ hired you!" yelled Green. "You do what / say!"

  "I can't guide if I don't explore first."

  " Nobody gives me excuses. Especially not some goddamn kid. You get that?"

  "How..."

  "Shut up! I don't want to hear it. Get that girl out of the way. That's what you're here for, and that's what I expect. You pull your weight. Understand?"

  "Yes," replied Rick, taken aback by Green's unexpected rage.

  "Don't screw up again. 1 mean it!"

  Peter Green turned on his heels and strode rapidly toward camp. He paused only once to call over his shoulder, "Go help with dinner."

  Rick remained still, stunned by the outburst and unwilling to accompany Green on the path. When he recovered from his surprise, he became angry. Green has no right to treat me like that! In any other situation, Rick would have marched down and resigned on the spot. His general philosophy was "life is too short to put up with jerks." Yet this was not like any other situation. He felt stuck, but not because Green had the only ride home. On the contrary, it was being sent home that Rick feared most. Today he had seen his personal ver-sion of paradise, a place where he would do anything in his power to remain. If that meant abasing himself to a jerk, that was the price he must pay. As Rick walked back to camp, he swallowed his anger and pondered how best to make his boss happy.

  WHEN RICK ENTERED the kitchen tent, Pandit was whis-tling merrily as he expertly chopped vegetables. The sides of the tent had been rolled up, leaving only the insect screens to serve as walls. Pandit was obviously in a good mood.

  "Hello, Rick. Did you bring me a dinosaur to cook?"

  "Not today."

  "When you get into trouble, you should have some-thing to show for it."

  "News travels fast, I see," said Rick. "Heck, I thought I was doing my job. What happened here?"

  "Miss Greighton was moody today."

  "That's all? Green nearly snapped my head off."

  "Miss Greighton's mood irritates her father, and Mr. Green is most displeased by this."

  " 'Displeased' is an understatement," said Rick. "But you seem jolly enough."

  "One finds moments for bliss.
" Pandit looked up the path leading to the kitchen tent, and said in a whisper, "Here comes one now."

  Rick heard footsteps on the path and turned to see Sara part the screening of the tent. She was carrying an empty bowl. Her attire immediately caught Rick's attention. She wore a white pleated dress that reminded him of the clinging dresses in ancient Egyptian frescoes. It was gathered at the waist by a simple gold belt that matched her delicate gold sandals. These were but accessories; the principal adornment of the dress was Sara herself. Her finely sculpted body was clearly visible through the trans-lucent fabric. Pandit froze where he stood, unable to glance away. Sara smiled slightly and, looking him in the eye, acknowledged his adoration.

  "We'd like more fruit," she said, handing him the bowl. Without removing his gaze from Sara, Pandit filled the bowl with strawberries, grapes, and cherries. She took it, leaned forward and, in a breathy voice that smelled of wine, murmured, "Thanks." Then she turned and strolled down the path as if she were modeling on a runway.

  "That woman requires prodigious quantities of fruit," said Pandit. "I wonder what she does with it."

  "Whatever it is," replied Rick, "it hasn't spoiled her figure." Pandit nodded appreciatively. "Oh, to be rich!" he cried. "That woman is a goddess! She is supernatural!"

  "I believe the word is 'artificial,' " replied Rick dryly.

  "Is not the point of existence to strive for perfection?"

  "I'd hardly call her perfect."

  "Of course," said Pandit. "As a naturalist, you prefer Miss Greighton. A natural beauty." Rick grimaced at the idea. "She's hardly my type."

  "Then you are a hard man to please."

  "I'm more concerned with pleasing Mr. Green. He told me to help you with dinner."

  "Do you know how to reduce a sauce?"

  "No," replied Rick. "My specialty is Warming up pouches."

  "I thought as much. You can cut up the tomatoes for the ragout."

  "Where are they?"

  "Right in front of you," replied Pandit, pointing to some large globes surrounded by papery green husks.

  "These are wild tomatoes. I picked them this morning."

  Rick picked up one of the tomatoes and examined it. It resembled the tiny tomatilloes Tom used to make salsa verde. This fruit was much larger than those; it was big even for a tomato. He peeled back the husk to reveal a deep red skin. "Pandit, tomatoes are cultivated plants, they don't grow wild."

  "They do here," said Pandit. "There are several tomato trees growing on the other side of the island. They pro-duce the finest tomatoes I have ever tasted. There are fruits and berries also. Mr. Neville is correct, this place is truly Eden."

  Rick peeled away the husk from the tomato and bit into it. Pandit was right—the flavor was exquisite. Then he examined the tomato as a scientist. Although the fruit seemed perfectly ripe, the seeds were immature—in fact—they appeared vestigial. This is no wild plant. He suspected it was genetically engineered. Another artifact from the builders of the stone rooms?

  Rick made himself as useful as he could, while Pandit cooked with efficient artistry. Before long, the first course was ready to serve. Pandit sent Rick to inform James. Once Rick accomplished that task, he returned to the kitchen tent to help serve the meal.

  The dinner guests arrived and seated themselves. Green and Greighton were formally attired, as was James. To Pandit's disappointment, Sara wore a modest evening dress. The girl showed up barefoot in a tee shirt and shorts. That caused the first scene of the evening. Her father seemed provoked by her outfit, for he angrily or-dered her to change. Wordlessly, but with a slouch that spoke volumes, she left the pavilion. John Greighton stabbed his salmon spring roll in gingered balsamic vin-egar sauce as if he were trying to kill it. "Some vacation!" he muttered. Upon hearing this remark, Green glared at Rick. The spring rolls were cold, and John Greighton had consumed most of a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc before his daughter returned to the table. She was wearing a dress, but was still barefoot. "Better?" she asked with a sarcas-tic edge. Her father ignored her question and her lack of shoes. The meal proceeded with an undercurrent of tension. Both James and Green tried to lighten the mood with cheerful conversation, but to little effect. After a while, they, too, lapsed into silence. The girl had succeeded in setting the tone for the evening. She sat sullen and quiet as she wolfed down her food. Rick observed this with discomfort increased by the knowledge that he was expected to placate this girl. His continued employment clearly depended on his success. He had no idea how he would manage. CON LAY ON her bed in her darkening room, still wearing the dress her father had forced her to wear.

  / should go swimming in this damn thing, she thought, then wear it to dinner. Yet the idea of swimming brought up memo-ries of the cold, deadly eye. Despite the warmth of the evening air, she shivered. Thirteen more days of this place! How will I ever make it?

  The guide's voice came from outside the drawn cur-tain. "Constance?"

  "Go away."

  "I can't."

  "I'm not dressed, so don't come in."

  "I'll wait here."

  "I'm not coming out."

  "I'll still wait."

  Con lay on her bed and waited to hear retreating foot-steps. She heard the wind in the leaves and the distant surf, but nothing else. Minutes passed without a sound from him.

  "Are you still there?"

  "Yes."

  "What do you want?"

  "Just to talk."

  "There's nothing to talk about. Now go away."

  "I can't."

  "You're a real pest, do you know that?"

  "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be."

  "Well, I'm not coming out. You can stay there all night."

  "That's okay, I brought a blanket."

  Con could hear the soft sounds of a blanket being un-rolled. He's bluffing, she thought. She found herself straining to hear him. His silence made her all the more aware of his presence. Ten, maybe twenty minutes passed, it was hard to tell.

  "What are you doing out there?"

  "Watching the stars come out. Even in the desert, they were never as clear as this. I can't make out any con-stellations, though. The sky's all different."

  Con didn't answer, resolved to ignore him. She found that she couldn't. It both irritated her that he was there and piqued her curiosity. After another ten minutes of silence, she changed into her tee shirt and shorts and drew aside the curtain. The guide was lying on a blanket, gazing at the stars.

  "How can the sky be different?" asked Con testily.

  Rick sat up and flashed her a smile. "I'm glad you asked."

  Con looked up at the stars. "There are so many!" she exclaimed, amazed despite herself. Then she hardened her tone. "Why are you bothering me?"

  "I just need to talk."

  "About what?"

  Rick sighed. "I shouldn't have walked away this morn-ing. I feel like a jerk."

  "I forgive you. Now will you go away?"

  "I was almost killed as a kid. It shakes you up bad. The world becomes a different, a scarier place."

  "It does," agreed Con in a small voice.

  "I had to talk to someone about it before it got better. I pulled you from the sea this morning, I'd like to help you the rest of the way."

  Con slumped down on the stone step of her quarters. Rick moved to sit on the step a few feet away. "I can't talk about it," she mumbled. "It's too ... too ..." Con sniffled.

  "It's all right," said Rick gently. "You can cry. It was a terrible experience." Con seemed about to melt into tears when she abruptly stiffened and glared at Rick accusingly. "You were watching me!"

  "No... honest!" said Rick. "James sent me to check on you. You were already in the water when I spotted you."

  "God! I'm so embarrassed."

  "Don't be. I've seen lots of women undressed," lied Rick. "I mean ... everyone bathes in the river on fossil digs. You get used to it."

  Con found herself wanting to believe him. "You must think I'm a real pain."

&
nbsp; "Not at all. You were just enjoying yourself. I feel I let you down."

  "You saved me! I should have thanked you instead of... of..."

  "Don't worry about it. You were in shock. I only hope this place isn't ruined for you."

  "I'm afraid it is. I just want to go home."

  "Could you give it... give me ... another chance?" pleaded Rick. "There's something I want to show you."

  "What?"

  "It's on the beach. This time, I promise it'll be safe."

  Con sensed Rick's desire to make things good after the morning's disaster. He seemed so disarmingly earnest and humble, she couldn't remain mad at him.

  "Please, Constance."

  "All right," she said. "If you're sure it's safe."

  "Guaranteed," Rick said buoyantly.

  "Call me 'Con.' That's what my friends do."

  Rick led Con along a path to the beach. A nearly full moon was rising, and the way was easy to see. When they reached the cliff over the beach, the moon had cleared the horizon. Con gazed at the moonlight sparkling on the sea and felt the return of the wonder she had experienced at the beginning of the day.

  "The moon's so big," she said.

  "It's closer to the Earth than it is in our time."

  "Is that what you wanted to show me?"