Beastly Bones

by William Ritter

  “The same as it is with humans, the foot and the toes. Metatarsals and phalanges, if you prefer. With most dinosaurs, as with modern birds, the metatarsals are actually clear off the ground, with the weight of the thing on its—”

  “Wrong,” Lamb interrupted.

  “Wrong? No, I’m quite certain—”

  “You’re wrong, Miss Rook. As you can plainly see, after the ankle joint there is . . . nothing at all. That is the point. My dinosaur’s entire foot has been stolen.”

  I looked down. The massive femur was still there. Beneath it lay the long tibia and fibula, but then there sat a series of hollows in the earth, outlining where the creature’s long talons should have been. The bones of the foot were gone.

  “These were definitely here last night,” Charlie said, stepping carefully around the hollows. I nodded.

  “I tried to stop her, boss!” wheezed August Murphy suddenly from the entryway. His freckles were lost in a mask of beet red.

  Nellie Fuller was stepping over a pile of freshly turned soil. Her slick, striped dress looked as sharp as her tongue, cut expertly to complement her full figure. It was out of place in the dirty mess, but she strode across the uneven terrain with confidence.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?” Lamb snarled.

  “Journalism,” she said. “It’s a terrible habit, I know, but I can’t seem to kick it. Hello! Isn’t this a handsome fellow?”

  Mr. Bradley fumbled with his chisel.

  “I mean that strapping brute you’re digging up.” Miss Fuller said. “But what’s your name, mister?”

  “Bradley. Bill Bradley, miss.”

  “Good name, Bill. Alliteration always looks sharp in typeset. What species would you say you’re uncovering?”

  “Shall I bodily remove her, sir?” Mr. Murphy asked.

  “Aw, Guster, if you wanted to dance, you really should have asked,” Nellie called over her shoulder. “My card’s all full up, now.”

  “Just go and look after Horner, you incompetent cretin,” Lamb said to Murphy, stomping across the dig site to intercept the reporter. “You know very well that you are not permitted to be on the premises!”

  “Do I? Honest misunderstanding, I’m sure. You should be more clear in the future.”

  “More cl—? Miss Fuller, I addressed you by name, looked you squarely in the eyes, and told you to stay out!”

  “Then we’re agreed that it was poor communication all around. No hard feelings, though, sunshine. I forgive you. Goodness, just look at the ribs on this behemoth! That first bone was impressive and all, but this is really a sight to see.”

  “I think you’ve all seen quite enough,” snapped Lamb.

  “But, sir, we’ve only just begun,” I said meekly. “In fact, Mr. Jackaby really ought to be here as well. Do you think you could send one of your men to fetch him? He might be able to see . . .”

  “Out! I’m done with all of you!”

  “Professor Lamb,” Charlie began.

  “Don’t you Professor Lamb me, Officer Barker! I am in direct communication with your supervisor, and Commander Bell has promised me your full cooperation. I played your game. I gave you your look. Now go get me my property—and take these . . . these . . . women with you.”

  “You’re the boss,” Nellie said, making no rush to leave and turning to me. “But you seem to be the brains. It’s Abigail Rook, yes? Mind if I call you Abbie? Lovely. Before we go, do you happen to know the word for that bone that birds have right here?” She pointed along her sternum.

  “It’s called the keel,” I said.

  “That’s the one. Is it just me, or is that a big fat keel?” She pointed toward a wide stretch at the creature’s front, which I had missed entirely, having simply taken it for a flat stretch of earth. “Is that normal on a dinosaur?”

  Mr. Bradley looked up from the creature’s neck. His eyes were twinkling. “You think that’s crazy? You ladies should see this.” He stepped away and began to lift the tarpaulin shrouding the creature’s back.

  “That’s quite enough!” yelled Lamb, vibrating furiously. Bradley dropped the canvas and froze.

  He had not been quick enough. Miss Fuller and I turned to each other, and I saw reflected in the reporter’s face the same impossible thrill that was dancing through me. Wings. The colossus had wings.

  Lamb ushered us brusquely through the canvas flap, all but literally kicking us off the site. He gave Mr. Bradley an acid glare on the way, and I did not envy the lecture the poor man was likely to endure later. My mind was reeling at the implications of what he had revealed to us.

  “What do you make of it, Miss Rook?” Charlie asked.

  “It’s impossible!” I said as we trod back down the sloping foothills toward the farm.

  “This is front-page material, without a doubt.” Nellie grinned.

  “It’s like some amazing amalgam of a theropod and a pterosaur! The scientific community will be absolutely astir!” I said.

  “Abbie, darling, you’re cute, but the scientific community won’t be the half of it when I’m through writing the story,” said Nellie.

  “Your story will have to wait until I’ve finished my examination and am fully ready to release a formal report on the specimen.” Lamb was keeping pace behind us, unwilling to trust that we could find our way unescorted.

  “Surely it won’t take long to finish a report,” I said. “The figure is almost entirely intact, and the fossils are unbelievably well preserved.”

  “They are unbelievable, Miss Rook, which gives me all the more reason for pause. I do not know how Owen Horner feels about the integrity of the scientific process, but I for one am not eager to be made a fool.”

  “You think they’ve been tampered with?” Charlie asked.

  “Horner had his hands all over this site before we arrived. It would not be the first time he intentionally sabotaged a dig site.”

  Lamb’s own record was far from spotless, but he was not entirely wrong. From what I had read in the journals, Owen Horner might have been more likable, but he was no more scrupulous. “Professor, is it really as bad as all that between the two of you?”

  “Worse,” Lamb said. “But it is not my fault! That brat hadn’t even finished his schooling when we met. He had assembled a sizable theropod as the focus of his thesis, but the amateur had obviously attached the head of one specimen to the body of another. Naturally, I was obliged to report his error, and the disgrace set back Horner’s thesis a year. His pride has been fueling this one-upmanship ever since. Whenever he can’t outdo me—which is most of the time—he settles for obstructing me. Why do you think he keeps appearing every time I take on a new project? I can think of nothing Horner would like more than to push me into putting wings on a flightless body, or giving a pterosaur the wrong legs. It is not the sort of oversight I tolerate, so you will understand my reluctance to rush.”

  I did understand. Field research was exhausting enough without extra hurdles and misdirection, and Lamb’s story had the unfortunate ring of truth. “That’s fair,” I said.

  “There are other facets of the excavation worthy of skepticism as well,” Lamb continued. “The site is notably shallow. Layers of ash in the soil suggest the area suffered a series of fires, which could potentially have affected plant growth and subsequent soil settlement. However, if one were to age the fossils purely on the visible strata, estimates would fall in the mere thousands of years.”

  “That’s obviously wrong,” I said. “Even the most recent Cretaceous dinosaurs died off—”

  “Exactly! What’s more, aside from the wings, this one appears most like an Allosaurus, which suggests Jurassic!”

  “Pardon me, kids,” Nellie chimed in. “A little translation for those of us who don’t speak dino? You said it looks thousands of years old—how old should it look?”

  “Somewhere in the area of one hundred fifty million,” I said. She whistled. I turned back to Lamb. “You really think Owen Horner parted with
a complete, pristine specimen? Just to make you look foolish?”

  “I can’t imagine that snake parting with so much as a toenail if he didn’t have to.” Lamb scowled. “But something about this dig is dodgy.”

  We had reached the farmhouse. Horner was just coming out from the back of the building toward us. Murphy had made himself Horner’s shadow.

  “I was just on my way to fetch you, Miss Rook,” Horner called as we neared. “You really ought to see the tracks your boss has been examining. Come on. I’ll show you around back.”

  “I’m sure we can manage to find a big red barn without you,” Lamb said flatly.

  “Oh, you’re good at finding things,” Horner said. “I’m just good at finding them first—like this dig site. I’m not sure Miss Rook has a week to wait for you to get there your way.”

  “Gentlemen, please.” I shot them each an imploring look. Lamb rolled his eyes but bit his tongue, and Horner just chuckled and led the way.

  The barn was a wide, red building, bordered with a chicken coop to one side and a collection of barrels and wheelbarrows to the other. On the path between the barn and the farmhouse, we found Jackaby and Hudson hunched over the dirt. Brisbee stood, watching. Jackaby held a disc of colored glass with symbols etched around the outer edge. He was peering through it intently, tilting his head this way and that as we approached.

  “Sir?” I said.

  “Peculiar.” I could not tell if Jackaby had actually recognized our arrival, or if he was merely talking to himself. He tucked the lens into his bulky coat.

  “Miss Fuller!” Brisbee said cheerfully. “Welcome! Wonderful to see you again!” Then, taking in the whole group of us, he added, “Oh good! So glad you folks are getting along. I’ve just made a fresh pot of coffee. Why don’t I just bring everyone some refreshments?”

  “That’s really not necessary,” said Lamb.

  “No, no trouble at all.” With a wave of his hand, Brisbee was already away, bustling off into the farmhouse.

  “What exactly are you looking at, gentlemen?” Nellie Fuller asked.

  Hudson leaned on one knee. “These tracks ain’t like nothin’ we got around here—least nothin’ I ever hunted.” He thought for a moment, and then added with a grin, “Yet.”

  My heart, which had been up in my throat since the revelation at the dig site, dropped suddenly to the pit of my stomach. I slipped back and slid toward Charlie while the others were crowding around to gaze at the footprints.

  Charlie read my intentions and met me halfway. “In case you were wondering,” he whispered in my ear, “I have never visited the farm in my other form. Whatever Mr. Hudson is tracking right now, it isn’t me.”

  “Good,” I said. “That’s good.”

  Charlie’s eyebrows knit, and his expression was torn. “If I did, however,” he continued, “I might be able to put this whole business to rest a lot sooner. Someone stole those bones, and we’ve yet to uncover any obvious leads. Jackaby’s right. If I could just pick up a scent before it has time to fade . . .”

  “You know that’s a bad idea,” I whispered. “Mr. Hudson is already on the hunt for something, and even if it isn’t you, you’re still—”

  “Rook!” Jackaby’s voice broke me away from my thoughts. “What do you make of these tracks?”

  “Me, sir? Wouldn’t Mr. Hudson be a better judge?”

  “Of course he would,” said Jackaby curtly, “which is why I asked Mr. Hudson first. Now I am asking you.”

  “Looks like a bird,” Hudson said as I shuffled past Lamb and moved to join my employer in the soft dirt. “Three big old toes and just a hint of a back one. They’re real thin, but those talons are long and nasty. I thought Rosie was big. Whatever left this makes her look like a chickadee.”

  I finally focused in on the tracks and gaped. The footprints were very familiar. I had seen similar marks cast in plaster at the museum and sketched in my father’s field journals, but more than that, I had seen imprints like these only minutes ago at the top of the hill. The markings were the precise size and shape of the enormous dinosaur’s missing toes.

  “Oh good grief,” said Lamb. “This is getting ridiculous.”

  “Well, it has to be a hoax,” said Horner.

  “Oh, drop the act! Of course it’s a hoax, but you would know all about it, wouldn’t you?” Lamb waved a hand at the footprints. “The specimen’s foot is missing! Horner has obviously used my fossils to stamp these impressions.”

  “What? Why would I do that?” Horner demanded.

  “I don’t know how your mind works. To distract me from my legitimate work, I imagine.”

  “He’s right,” Hank announced. “They’re all pressed from the same foot. They go back an’ forth like it’s two, but they’re all the left. Explains them being so thin, too.”

  “There’s more to it than that,” Jackaby mumbled, his brow still knit in concentration.

  “Sir?” I asked. “Can you see something . . . special?”

  Jackaby’s eyes narrowed. “Fake or not, these prints were not made with simple fossils. Fossils are no longer living; they’ve been reduced to a mineral state, even less vital than dry bone. As I said before, studying fossils is no different than studying rocks.” Lamb and Horner both bristled, but Jackaby ignored them and continued. “These prints have traces of something far more potent. It’s not like the others, but there is a residual tincture here—an aura I cannot quite place.”

  “An aura?” Lamb asked. “What kind of detective are you?”

  “I am an investigator of unexplained phenomena. My domain is the eldritch and the extraordinary.” Jackaby stood. His expression bespoke a building enthusiasm. “Your missing foot is most peculiar indeed, Mr. Lamb—or else there is something even more peculiar afoot. Tell me about this dinosaur of yours.”

  “I’ll tell you nothing, thanks—not around him.” Lamb looked down his nose meaningfully at Horner, who rolled his eyes and threw up his hands.

  “Oh for goodness’ sake,” I said. “Just a moment ago, Mr. Lamb, you were convinced that Mr. Horner planted the whole skeleton as a ruse. If he’s the mastermind behind all this, then what harm is there in telling him what he already knows?”

  “Wait, what?” Horner said, facing Lamb. “Now you’re accusing me of putting the bones there in the first place? I thought you were accusing me of taking them!”

  “Don’t pretend to be—,” Lamb began.

  “It’s got wings,” said Nellie, loudly. “Oops. I guess it’s out now, and you boys can stop quibbling about it. That thing on the hill has wings, Mr. Jackaby. Really big ones.” Lamb glared daggers at the reporter, but she just shrugged innocently.

  “That’s impossible,” said Horner.

  “We’ve reached that point already,” I said.

  “It couldn’t . . . It isn’t . . . It can’t possibly—,” he said.

  “Yes, we’ve done that bit already, too,” I said. “But it does, and it is, and it can.”

  “It’s easily fifty feet long!” said Horner.

  Jackaby had been watching the exchange with interest. “I suspect the remains are not so deeply buried as your typical dinosaur?” he asked.

  “Remarkably near the surface, actually,” I said. “How did you—”

  “Any signs of wildfires around the skeleton?”

  “Ash in the surrounding sediment,” I confirmed.

  “Mr. Barker, didn’t you say something about flint in the area of its stomach? Of course—it makes perfect sense. I must be dense for missing it earlier.”

  Lamb was scowling. “What do you know about my dinosaur?”

  Jackaby smiled. “I know you haven’t got one.”

  “Excuse me?” Lamb said.

  “You’ve got something worlds more exciting,” Jackaby said. His eyes flashed with a dangerous zeal. “You’ve got a dragon.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Hudson’s bristly beard split into a wide grin. Lamb looked incredulous. Nellie opened he
r mouth as if to speak, but then closed it again. “A dragon?” said Charlie.

  “All of the evidence fits. Dragons were known to swallow flint to generate the spark they needed to breathe fire. The beast’s presence in Gad’s Valley is somewhat surprising, as most dragons of the size you’re describing are reported to have lived around Great Britain and Germany—but migratory cryptozoology is an imprecise science. One thing is clear: their kind went extinct centuries ago. Far more recently than dinosaurs, of course, which accounts for its being nearer the surface. A few endangered Chinese breeds still exist today. The living Eastern varieties are much smaller, of course. More like snakes. Beautiful scales.”

  “Do you think this is a joke?” Lamb spat.

  “No,” said Jackaby. “Although I did employ a rather droll play on words earlier. You may have missed it. You see, the word afoot and the—”

  “You’re either a madman or an idiot. You’re not a detective, with your auras and dragons. Was that a crystal ball you were looking through when we arrived?”

  “A scrying glass. I’ve never had much luck with crystal.”

  “Mr. Lamb.” Owen Horner had allowed a little glint of wonder to creep into his eyes. “I know it sounds impossible, and maybe it is, but can you imagine being the first professional team in history to uncover bona fide scientific evidence of dragons on earth? What do you say we put the past behind us and work together to find out the truth for ourselves?”

  “I say you’re mad. All of you. This farce has gone on long enough.” Lamb whipped around, nearly toppling over Murphy. “Out of my way, you oaf. I am getting back to work—real, objective, scientific work. If I see any of you within the boundaries of my excavation site, you will be arrested. Isn’t that right, Officer?”

  Charlie looked uncomfortable. “I really don’t think that’s necessary, sir. Mr. Jackaby is very good at what he does. If you would just give him a chance . . .”

  “You, too? Good Lord, I would expect as much from that backwoods trapper, but . . . wait a moment. Where is he?”

  Hank Hudson, hulking mountain of a man though he was, had slipped quietly away. Jackaby raised his eyebrows. “Is that really a question, Mr. Lamb? Hank Hudson has always been a bit of an enthusiast when it comes to uncommon animals. He has just learned that the remains of one of the most legendary species in all of human history are sticking out of the dirt a few hundred yards away. Where would you expect to find an individual of his disposition?”