Cretaceous Sea

by Will Hubbell

  Rick's admonition was thwarted by the glow beyond the foothills. As they worked, it grew brighter, driving them to attack the earth with increasing desperation. The baked ground seemed harder than before, and their progress was measured in inches. The handle of Rick's spoon kept bend-ing. When he straightened it for the seventh time, it snapped, forcing him to dig with the bowl. Con bloodied her fingertips trying to claw out a rock while she wept in frustration. Joe worked steadily and stoically, but without hope.

  The glow grew brighter and began to waver. Occasionally, a stronger blast of wind would choke them with smoke. By the time Joe had to lie on the ground to reach to bottom of his hole, the first tongues of flames appeared at the crest of ¦ the hills. From those tongues, fire dribbled down the hill-sides.

  "Joe," said Rick, "what will fire do to the plane?"

  "I have no idea, but I don't think we should stay to find out."

  The fire advanced rapidly through the dry scrub. The flames rose high into the sky, filling it with false stars that burned out or fell to the ground and ignited it. Even though it was still distant, they could feel the blaze's heat.

  Joe entered the plane and turned on its interior lights. The white light seemed overly bright to their eyes.

  "We'd better pack up and make for the river while we still can," he said.

  "We should take our clothes, blankets, the guns, flash-lights, and as much water as we can carry," said Rick, "and hope the rest of our stuff makes it through with the plane." They quickly stuffed three duffel bags with clothes, water, and the flashlights, then grabbed the two guns. Joe shut off the lights and, for a few moments, they found it hard to see. When their eyes became reaccustomed to the dim light, they headed for the river. They had to climb over the fallen trees that marked the river's old bank, then scramble down the dry, stony hill that had been its former bed before reaching water. The tepid, shallow stream was laden with dirt and flowed through a tangle of partially uprooted plants.

  Rick felt the leaves of a plant standing in the water. "This stuff will burn," he said.

  "I see a spot downstream that looks clearer," said Joe.

  They headed in its direction. Although the water was only ankle deep, the earth beneath it had turned into a deep layer of mud, and the going was slow. Once, the muck pulled off

  Con's sneaker. She groped in the mud until she found it. Then she washed it off as best she could before putting it in her duffel bag. She removed her other shoe and did the same. By the time she caught up with Joe and Rick, they were uprooting dried plants and tossing them downstream. They were already covered with mud. Their duffel bags and the guns hung on the gnarled branches of a small overturned tree.

  "We need a fireproof spot," said Rick.

  Con placed her duffel bag with Rick's and Joe's, then joined them in pulling up plants. Most of them came up easily from the soft mud. The deeply rooted ones that didn't were stomped down into the muck. Gradually, the clear spot was widened from five to ultimately fifteen feet. While they worked, the flames advanced.

  Driven by the fire, panicked animals arrived long before the flames did. Con could hear them splashing through the water. Sometimes she could also make out a shadowy form in the ever-thickening smoke. A lone Triceratops lumbered by so close she could hear its ragged gasping. The appear-ance of the animals did not frighten Con. Instead, it gave her hope, for it was evidence there still were other living beings in the world. Joe's reaction was different. He walked over to the upturned tree, grabbed a gun, and turned it on. "Fresh meat," was all he said. The words made Con's stomach rum-ble. Joe stood vigilantly at the perimeter of their clearing and strained to see through the smoke. Twice he fired at vague fleeing shadows, but missed both times as the haze defeated the gun's targeting scope. Con and Rick watched him as they crouched down close to the surface of the water, where the smoke was less dense. The smoke thickened into choking clouds that drove Joe, coughing and wheezing, to abandon the hunt. He hung the gun on the overturned tree, then flopped down on his back in the water next to Con.

  "You know," said Joe as he settled in the ooze, "this isn't half-bad. Like some fancy spa." Con followed suit and lay down full length also. By .plac-ing her hands behind her head, she was able to keep her face above the water. The water in her ears shut out the roar of the oncoming fire, and the air was less acrid. The mud and the lukewarm water were not entirely refreshing, but they provided some relief from the heat. Exhausted and emotion-ally drained, she was past caring about anything else. She was no longer hot, and that was sufficient for the moment. Con closed her eyes. A feeling of numbness came over her, the closest thing to peace she had experienced since the pre-vious morning. Rick remained sitting upright, breathing through his wet shirt, as he watched anxiously for the onrush of flames. Rea-son told him they had done everything they could and now they must sit tight. Still, he wanted to be on guard. The fleeing animals were all gone. That's the difference between intelligence and instinct, thought Rick. The river's the only safe place to be and they ran right through it. The dark land on the other bank only looked like a refuge. The river, choked with tinder-dry plants, would prove no barrier to the fire. It would pass over this puny obstacle and continue its pursuit. The animals would be overcome in the end.

  Yet Rick's intellect could not calm the fear he felt as flames became visible through the smoke. They rose much higher than he had imagined they would. The terror of yes-terday's events lacked the immediacy of these flames. The burning sky had remoteness and even grandeur. This had the visceral impact of a blowtorch pointed at his face. Rick was about to lie prone in the water when he remembered that the guns and the duffel bags were still in the tree branches. They might burn when the fire passed over the river. He was about to retrieve them when he heard the sound of a very large animal approaching. He froze to listen. It came from up-stream, and it seemed that the creature was not crossing the river but walking down its middle. So much for my theory about blind instinct, he thought. He wondered what creature had the sense to remain in the water. From the rhythm of its footsteps, they sounded like those of a biped.

  Rick shook Con and Joe, while he strained to see what was making the noise. Con sat up, her hair and back dripping with mud. She rubbed her eyes and looked around stupidly. When she saw the flames, her eyes widened in fear.

  "What's up?" asked Joe. "Shouldn't we be lying down?"

  "Something's coming!" said Rick.

  A towering shape materialized from the smoke. It was a huge Tyrannosaur, taller than either of the two they had spot-ted on their excursion. The flames had reached the river, and the foliage above its surface was beginning to ignite. Flames licked at the creature's flanks, and it roared in pain and rage. Then it spied the patch of cleared water and headed for it. Rick was rising to dash for the guns when the dinosaur bounded into the clearing and blocked his path. He made a startled jump backward, lost his footing, and fell. As he went down, a yard-long foot splashed in the water just inches from Con's leg. The foot rose again, and Rick saw sharp, eight-inch claws dripping with mud.

  Joe seized Con by the waist, pulled her toward him, then rolled over. The maneuver bought them two feet of safety. Afraid to stand up, Rick, Joe, and Con scrambled on their hands and knees away from the oversize talons. The mud fought their every movement. They struggled in frantic haste, aware the Tyrannosaur might maim or crush them without even noticing it.

  The entire river was on fire by then, yet the safest place was close to the flames, for the giant creature would not stay still. No matter where it stood, it was too large to avoid the fire entirely. It moved constantly and erratically, churning the slow-moving water into a muddy pudding. Several times its heavy tail missed bludgeoning diem by inches. Sometimes, when it bent forward to lift its tail up as high as it could, they could stare into its tormented yellow-green eyes. They appeared not to stare back, as if they were blinded by pain. Then the creature would jerk its head away, seeking respite in another position. None came and it roa
red hoarsely as parts of its hide began to blacken, and to bubble with huge blisters. Con huddled with Rick and Joe near the burning perimeter of the clearing. She dared not take her eyes off the frantic monster in their midst, even though watching it exposed her to the searing heat. The Tyrannosaur held her in thrall, as might a gun pointed at her head. Every detail of the massive legs was impressed into her brain—the rippling muscles, its pebbly, mud-caked hide, the dewclaw above the rear of its foot and, most of all, the three, wicked claws at the ends of its huge, birdlike feet. The animal seemed less of a riving crea-ture than a force of nature, a smaller but equally deadly cousin to the meteor, the earthquake, and the burning sky. It could kill her with equal indifference. Her mangled body would register to its tortured mind as only a difference in the texture of the mud—if it registered at all. Wet mud offered the only protection from the flames, aside from the shallow water. Rick, Joe, and Con scooped it up and helped each other to coat the exposed parts of their bod-ies to keep them from blistering. The mud quickly grew hot and had to be refreshed with new coats. While they did that, they kept a wary eye on the Tyrannosaur. Rick slathered mud on Con's neck and shoulders saying,

  "Everything will be fine." His words reminded her of Pandit and Sara. When the vegetation in the river burned to the waterline, the flames extinguished. Gradually, dark spots appeared in the riverbed. They enlarged until the river was a corridor of darkness between two burning walls. The Tyrannosaur was released from its flaming corral. It wandered downstream on unsteady feet.

  "It won't live much longer," said Rick.

  "It's strange," said Con, "but I feel sorry for it."

  "So do I," said Joe, "but if I had my gun, I would have shot it in a heartbeat."

  "The guns!" cried Rick in panic.

  The tree where they had hung the guns and their duffel bags had been trampled, and only a few of its branches were visible above the mud. Con, Rick and Joe ran over to the spot and began to search for their belongings. The bags had floated downstream only a short distance before getting snagged. They were soaked and muddy, but only slightly singed. The guns were nowhere to be seen. Carefully, but anxiously, they groped in the churned-up river bottom for them. After several minutes, Joe let out a triumphant yell. It died in this throat when the gun emerged from the water bent into the shape of a "V." Joe removed the cylinder filled with the silvery ammunition, then angrily flung the ruined gun into the river. Rick found the second gun close to where Joe found the first. He rinsed the mud off as best he could. The weapon appeared intact. Rick turned it on and rows of red, yellow, and blue lights glowed on its side. "Don't try to fire it," said Joe, "until we can tlean it."

  "Can we move upstream and get out of this mud?" said Con.

  Without another word, they began to walk upstream, carry-ing their sodden duffel bags. The plants had burned down to the waterline and, although their charred remains blackened the stream, it looked more like a normal river. They came to a spot where the water was almost a foot deep. The current had cleared the vegetation and even some of the mud. With an exhausted sigh, Con sat down. Rick followed suit.

  The water reached up to Con's waist. It was marginally cleaner, and she used it to wash the mud from her face and hair. An updraft carried the smoke away, and the fire, now contained by the river, no longer seemed threatening. After the terror of the Tyrannosaur and the burning river, this felt safe. It was even relatively cool. Tired as she was, Con felt a little of the exultation she had felt when she successfully descended the cliff.

  Joe remained standing. He opened his duffel bag and pulled out the driest shirt he could find. He asked Con to hold his bag and proceeded to clean the gun with the shirt. When he was satisfied, he returned the shirt to his bag.

  "Con, would you watch my stuff for me?" asked Joe. "I'm going to get you dinner." Con nodded, and Joe started to head upstream.

  Rick called after him. "Won't you get me some, too?"

  "You can have Con's leftovers," Joe called back. "Provid-ing she leaves any." Rick smiled at Joe's crack about Con's appetite, yet it reminded him of a serious concern. Her souped metabolism was an advantage in a world of plenty, but they were no longer living in that world. He worried how she would fare in the time of want that lay ahead. Rick gazed at her in the firelight. She was slumped forward on the two duffel bags, watching the fire's reflection on the river. Her face was drawn and dirty, yet bore a hint of a smile. Rick found that smile utterly endearing. He reached out and tenderly rubbed her wet, muddy back. Con's only reaction was that her smile became slightly more pronounced. Rick spoke to her, more from hope than conviction. "Everything will be fine." 23

  CON WAS ASLEEP WHEN RICK HEARD THE CRACK OF JOE'S

  gun from far up the river. Although Rick would have liked to see Joe's kill, he knew he should stay with Con. The valley's scrubby vegetation had not provided the fuel for a sustained blaze, and it was getting dark again. The trees at the former riverbank still burned, as did shattered patches throughout the valley, but the main fires had moved to the far foothills. The flames that were so recently menacing, now seemed like homey campfires. Rick would miss them when they burned out.

  Before Joe returned, Rick found it necessary to take out a flashlight to guide him. He set the output on low to conserve the battery and listened for footsteps. It seemed like a long time, before he heard any. Eventually, he heard Joe coming. He shined the beam upstream and caught sight of Joe. He had a broad smile and was carrying a five-foot-long object on his shoulder. It was the severed limb of a bipedal dino-saur. It looked to Rick like it came from a Hypsilophodontid.

  "Got one of those little guys," said Joe. "It was like shoot-ing a fish in a barrel."

  "That's great, Joe!" said Rick. "But how did you butcher it?"

  "Sliced it with the gun."

  Rick pointed to the still-burning trees. "We can cook it over there." Joe looked at Con slumped over the duffel bags. "How long has she been asleep?"

  "She nodded off right after you left. She's exhausted."

  Joe shook his head. "This is because she's souped, isn't it?"

  "Most likely," said Rick.

  "All she's had was a muffin and a half," said Joe. "That was stupid on our part. We've got to keep her fed."

  "Well, let's get this cooked," said Rick. He walked over to Con and gently shook her. "Joe's brought some dinner."

  Con looked sleepy at first, but the idea of food soon had her wide-awake. She and Joe waded to the shore. There Con put her shoes back on to protect her feet from smoldering embers. Meanwhile, Rick searched the river for a branch to use as a poker. When he found one, he joined Joe and Con by a still-burning tree. Joe used the gun to cut the tree into logs that Rick then pushed together. Soon they had a healthy blaze going. Rick took out his knife and cut the leg at the knee joint, then skinned the two pieces.

  "Garcon," said Con, "may I see ze menu?"

  "Ah, Mademoiselle," replied Rick, "perhaps you would care to hear ze specials first."

  "But of course," replied Con.

  "Tonight we feature ze Hypsilophodontid ala carboniza-tion."

  "Stop there. That's my favorite."

  "And how do you prefer your Hypsilophodontid? Medium, rare, or well-done?" Con looked at the two bloody chunks of flesh, and quickly said, "Well-done. Very well done." Joe dug a flashlight out of his duffel bag. "While you two yack, I'm going to check on the plane." He switched on the light and headed into the darkness.

  As soon as Joe mentioned the plane, a pall came over Con and Rick's banter. Escaping the fire and finding food would mean little without the plane. It seemed impossible it could have survived the fire. They feared Joe's investigation was merely a formality, and he would soon be back to confirm the worst. Rick tried to concentrate on cooking. He poked the fire until he had a pile of glowing embers, then placed the meat upon them. It hissed, and the smell of burnt flesh rose into the air. This will be well-done, all right. Using his poker, he turned the meat to try to cook it evenly. Soon b
oth joints were thoroughly black. Though this kept him busy, his main attention was always on Joe. The movements of Joe's flashlight marked his search for the plane. Rick and Con watched them silently, neither wish-ing to give voice to their dread. Apparently Joe was lost, for the light zigzagged over the landscape. Then it went out, leaving Con and Rick staring into darkness. A light, brilliant to their eyes, appeared. The transparent portion of the plane glowed, and they could see Joe in its interior, sitting in the pilot's seat. The light disappeared, and shortly after, they heard a shout of joy. Joe's light came straight toward them, bobbing as Joe ran.

  Joe rushed into the light of the fire shouting, "The plane's fine! The plane's fine!" He gave Rick a bear hug, then lifted Con up and whirled her around. Every aspect of his grimy face was a picture of absolute bliss.

  "It's more than fine. It looks untouched, like it's brand-new! Thank God for such a plane!" Rick tested the roasting meat and declared it ready for a celebration. Joe and Rick found a large, flat stone in the dry riverbed to serve both as dining table and serving plate. They carried it over to the fire; then Rick placed the two pieces of blackened limb upon it. Rick passed his knife around and each cut away strips of meat. The meal that followed was more festive than any served at the dining pavilion. The charred dinosaur meat, tough and unseasoned, seemed like a feast to all. The warm bottled water was appreciated more than Peter Green's chilled champagne.

  Joe grinned as he watched Con eat ravenously. "Take your time, Con, no one's going to steal it from you."

  Con smiled back as she chewed.

  "This reminds me of camping with Tom," said Rick.

  Joe chuckled. "Must have been a hell of a childhood."

  "I know it sounds crazy," replied Rick, "but right now, I feel good. We've been through a lot, and now it's going to start getting better."

  "I certainly hope so," said Joe

  "There are parts of the world untouched by the impact. Sure, it'll get dark and cold there, too, and the acid rain will fall there also, but it won't be like here. There will be unburnt wood for fuel, tools, and shelter."