by Jack Geurts
One of the students, Troy, emerged from a nearby marquee with a sandwich in each hand. He sat down beside Jasper and handed one to him. The one with the crusts cut off and no mayonnaise – just how he liked it. Jasper thanked him and took a bite. They sat there together and watched the fossil grow larger as more of the rock was removed.
Troy had been around longer than any of the others, having failed a few classes his first year and still struggling to keep up. Jasper saw a lot of himself in the guy, a lot of his father, though Troy didn’t look much like either. He was a few pounds overweight, with coke-bottle glasses and two rows of shiny metal braces. At the right angle, these could blind the person he was talking to if they weren’t careful. He wore an old cap that read “Dinosaurs are Cool”. He thought this was hilarious, because traditionally, dinosaurs were thought to have been cold-blooded, like reptiles. Though it was now believed that they weren’t cold-blooded or warm-blooded, but somewhere in between, he still wore the hat. Mainly, because it annoyed all the other students, not to mention Jasper’s parents. He was almost ten years older than Jasper, but their ages might as well have been reversed for the difference in intelligence and maturity.
Still, Troy was his longest-serving sibling so far, and his favourite. He knew he’d miss Troy when he left. Not if. When.
“What do they think it is?” said Jasper.
“Australovenator,” said Troy, with a mouthful. “Look at the skull. Way more intact than that one they found in Queensland.”
Jasper racked his brain, trying to remember. “Banjo?”
“Yeah.”
“What are they gonna call this one?”
“Don’t know. That’d be your mum or dad’s call. Maybe they can flip for it.”
“Maybe they’ll call it Troy.”
Troy laughed. “If they do, it’ll be because we both weigh about half a ton.”
Jasper didn’t mean it like that, but he knew Troy was good about poking fun at himself. Still, he felt a little awkward and decided to change the subject.
“Did it have feathers?”
“Don’t know,” said Troy, taking another bite of his sandwich. “Maybe. They reckon it was mainly the theropods.” He quickly realised that Jasper might not be familiar with this term and hurried to explain. “Y’know, the two-legged carnivores like raptors, T-Rex’s, that kind of thing.”
“I know what theropods are,” Jasper said, a little defensively.
Troy smiled, knowing Jasper’s intelligence was never something to be called into question. He held his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry, forgot who I was talking to.”
Despite himself, Jasper broke into a grin and shook his head.
Troy went on, “But...yeah, they reckon the feathers might have been used for insulation – the bigger the dinosaur, the less feathers they needed. So you wouldn’t see a Brontosaurus with feathers, I don’t think. Just like an elephant doesn’t have fur.”
“Mammoths did.”
“Yeah, but dinosaurs lived in a warmer environment than mammoths, just like elephants live in warm environments now. They don’t need as much insulation.”
Jasper frowned. “So why did they have feathers then, if they didn’t need insulation?”
“Well...another theory is that they might have been useful for attracting mates, like birds do today. The colour and that.”
Jasper shook his head, realising he still hadn’t gotten a straight answer. “So did this thing have feathers or not?”
Troy studied the fossil, took another bite of his sandwich. Then, with a mouthful, he said, “Maybe. We might never know.”
*
After sunset, Jonathan was down in the pit with his students. Floodlights connected to the generator had been set up to illuminate the darkening earth. Even though it was late and everyone was tired, there wasn’t a word of complaint – the excitement of such a find would ensure they worked long into the night. They only had a few days left on this dig, after all, and didn’t know when they’d be back.
Those not down in the pit were eating dinner at a series of fold-out tables set up end-to-end, talking excitedly about what had been found, what might be found tomorrow.
Away from all this, Jasper sat in a camp chair beneath the twilight sky cast in deepening shades of purple. He scraped the last of his scrambled eggs into the dirt and took up the cowboy hat he’d hung on the back of his chair. He didn’t put it back on right away – the evening wind felt nice in his sweat-and-dust-matted hair. Instead, he picked off a piece of lint from the brim and flicked it aside. He looked out over the plain to see a mob of red kangaroos bounding gracefully through the waist-high grass, silhouettes against the dying light.
He found it hard to believe that a hundred million years ago, the place he now sat was the shoreline of a massive, inland sea. It broke Australia up into a cluster of smaller islands and covered roughly half its present landmass. Though the water had long since retreated, the bones of creatures who flourished along the fertile coasts remained.
Jasper tried to imagine the dinosaur they were digging up wandering along the shoreline in search of food. Swaggering forth, leaving behind it a trail of three-toed footprints in the sand. Its head slung low, its tail up, its clawed hands dangling beneath it in wait. He pictured it sniffing at the sand, stopping as it picked up a scent. He imagined its head snapping up, its eyes narrowing, looking around. Mouth drooling in anticipation of the coming meal.
Jasper loved thinking about that kind of thing – how things might have looked in a time before cameras. Before sculptures. Before cave paintings.
Zoe approached from the village of tents with two cups of tea. She handed one to Jasper and sat down with her own in another fold-out chair just beside him. The silken black hair that had been tied back earlier now fell naturally over her shoulders. She looked out over the plain with a contented sigh.
“Beautiful,” she said. “Isn’t it?”
“Sure is.” Jasper nodded, but didn’t meet her eye.
Zoe noticed. “Homesick?”
He shrugged.
“We won’t be much longer. End of the week at most.”
He nodded again. “You guys are pretty excited, huh?”
“Yeah,” she said, still trying to wrap her mind around it.
“It’s a big find.”
“Most complete skeleton so far. University’s gonna be thrilled.”
“They should be. It’s awesome.”
He tried to sound interested. Zoe saw him trying and smiled. She knew how hard it was for him sometimes. How lonely it got out here. They both sipped their tea and Jasper’s eyes fell to the cowboy hat in his lap.
“Hey, uh...did dad say anything about my project?”
Zoe frowned. “No, why? Did you give it to him?”
Jasper picked absent-mindedly at the brim just so he would have something to do with his hands. “Yeah. He said he was gonna read it, but he’s been pretty busy...”
Zoe sighed. This had happened before. “I’ll remind him.”
Jasper just nodded, but kept his eyes on the hat. Shortly before they left, he’d received an A+ in History for an essay on Hannibal Barca – the Carthaginian general who had led an army of fifty thousand men, horses and elephants across the Alps to conquer Rome. He had done so in order to carry on a mission begun by his father, Hamilcar, a bitter enemy of Rome who made his son promise he would never be a friend to the Empire. And Hannibal never was – he would wage war against Rome for almost twenty years and come within a hair’s breadth of defeating it. He was remembered as one of the greatest generals in history, alongside Alexander the Great and Julius Caesar, and Jasper always got the feeling that if Hamilcar had lived long enough to see all the things his son would accomplish, he would have been proud of him.
Zoe had read the essay and told Jasper what an excellent job he’d done like she always did. He’d given it to his father to read next and Jonathan had said he couldn’t wait, but so far Jasper hadn’t heard another word
about it.
He tried to put it from his mind.
“Hey, uh...you know how that asteroid wiped out the dinosaurs?”
Zoe was puzzled by the sudden change of subject, but answered nonetheless. “All the ones who couldn’t fly, you mean?”
“Yeah, well...do you think they knew that was it for them? The ones who survived the impact. Like, do you think they knew their whole species was going extinct?”
Zoe knew her son too well not to expect such a question, but it still took her a moment to prepare her answer.
“Well...it was pretty awful back then. There were these high, sulphuric clouds covering the whole planet. They acted like giant reflectors, bouncing the sun’s rays back out into space. From outside, the earth would have looked like a giant ball of white smoke. From inside...well, that was a different story. Because of those clouds, no light could get in. So down below, it was dark for months or years on end. Soot and dust and smoke. We can’t even imagine it. But...to answer your question, no, I don’t think they knew they were done for. They weren’t self-aware like we are. There was no existential crisis. They would’ve just been wondering around in search of food until they dropped dead.”
“So they weren’t smart enough to realise they were dying...but they didn’t cause the asteroid to hit earth either.”
She studied him, puzzled. Wondered what he was on about.
“We’re the opposite,” he said.
Zoe smiled. “I suppose we are.”
“In a way, we’re dumber than the dinosaurs.”
Zoe arched an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? How’s that?”
“If they knew they were going extinct, they might’ve done something to stop it.” He seemed genuinely concerned now, troubled by the thought.
“Where’s all this coming from?” Zoe said.
Jasper shrugged again. “I don’t know.”
“You’re worried about the future?”
“If there is a future. I mean, the extinction rate’s going up, the temperature’s rising ‘cause there’s more carbon in the atmosphere, the oceans are getting more acidic. It’s happened before. That’s what happens before a mass extinction.”
“I know, honey.”
“It’s happening now.”
Jasper was getting worked up, and Zoe placed a comforting hand on his arm. “Look, it’s probably not going to be some single event like an asteroid. Usually, mass extinctions take place over millions of years.”
“But it is going to happen.” The sentence came out equal parts question and statement, like he was waiting for his mother to either agree or put his fears to rest. She did neither – simply sighed and sipped her tea. The thought was troubling to her, also.
“It doesn’t help to dwell on it,” she said. “And who knows? We might find a way to reverse what we’ve done to this world, or at least survive what it’ll do to us.”
Jasper tried to sound hopeful. “Yeah...maybe.”
Zoe wanted to cheer him up, but didn’t know how. Then, something caught her eye. Something high above. She smiled.
“And hey...the dinosaurs didn’t die out. They just changed. Look.”
She pointed to a wedge-tailed eagle just visible against the dimming sky. Its wings were outstretched, the feathered tips like fingers, slicing through the warm air. It glided motionless in a vast circle, telescopic eyes reading the desert floor, hunting in the poorer light when its prey would be disadvantaged.
“Maybe we can change, too,” she said.
Jasper smiled, glad to have her there. She always knew how to cheer him up. They watched the majestic bird in its element, and Jasper hoped his mother was right.
*
Later, in the dead of night, the boy made his way down to the pit. The stars were out, strewn across the black and purple sky. They shone bright in the Outback, far from the lights of towns or cities that would dull them, stretching from horizon to horizon. Jasper imagined this was what the night sky would have looked like to the hunter-gatherer tribes huddled around their camp-fires thousands of years ago, possibly right in this very place.
He flicked on one of the floodlights, and the natural glow of the moon and stars were displaced by one that was man-made. The extinct predator laid slumbering in the rock before him, unobscured by the mob of student diggers. He could see the thing in its entirety now, except where patches of rock still covered portions of the fossilised framework. He could see the skull, the gaping eye. The rows of pointed teeth. The curving spine, tracing the creature’s length from neck to tip of tail, and in between, the arms, the claws, the ribs, the leg bones and feet. He could almost imagine the sinews, the muscles, the flesh...the feathers?
It was cold now and Jasper huddled in a fleece-lined jacket, his breath fogging up in the air before him. He crouched down low on his boots and studied the fossil. Then he descended into the pit, using the steps that had been carved out of the earth to facilitate easy access.
With his shadow cast against the far wall of the pit, Jasper approached the dinosaur and crouched down again beside its head. He ran his fingers over the skull, the bridge of its nose – over what was once bone but was now simply rock. He knew that it was a miracle this fossil had survived the years, not just in such great condition, but at all. The number of factors working against this creature being preserved boggled his mind, and made him wonder how anything survived from so long ago.
His father theorised that the Australovenator was near the shore when it died, possibly feeding at the mouth of a river. It was then quickly buried by silt and sand coming down the river after some heavy rain, which formed a kind of natural tomb that not only protected it from scavengers or natural weathering, but also limited the oxygen that the corpse was exposed to, thereby limiting the decay of the body. The flesh was rapidly decomposed by bacteria, leaving just the skeleton behind, and as more layers of sediment accumulated over the bones, the sediment below was compressed by the weight of it.
Gradually, the water was forced out and everything hardened into rock. As this happened, the skeleton decayed and was replaced with minerals in the water, so that what you were left with was not organic bone, but an inorganic copy of what the skeleton looked like at the time of burial.
After that, millions of years passed, and eventually, the rock was forced upward by tectonic activity. The upper layers eroded away until finally, if the fossil had not yet been crushed by the immense weight of the world above, it was exposed to the light and the air.
Or, until someone came along with a bulldozer and made a quicker job of it.
However, Jasper knew that this was the best case scenario. More often than not, if a dinosaur died and wasn’t immediately buried, its body would be food for scavengers. The flesh and bones would decay naturally or be consumed or scattered by the ebb and flow of the constantly shifting tides. Even if it was buried, the fossil would most likely be crushed by the gathering layers of earth and rock above it.
The most favourable conditions for preserving a complete, articulated fossil, Jasper had learned, would be the muddy floor of a calm ocean or lake, with little oxygen or sunlight, where the body could lie undisturbed, uneaten, as it was covered over and buried.
Jasper wondered if, a hundred million years from now, his own fossilised remains would be uncovered. He wondered if they would be studied by whatever future race of people inhabited the earth, in the same way his people unearthed ancient cities and tombs, or fossils that were millions and billions of years old.
What would those future beings think, looking down at all that remained of him? What would they say as they held his skull up to the light? Would they say anything at all? Had they evolved to the point where they no longer needed to speak, but communicated telepathically? Were they even human? Maybe they were alien, or machine.
Such were his thoughts from time to time.
Jasper unrolled a canvas belt of tools and took out a small pick hammer. Touching it to the rock covering most of the creature’s neck and shoulde
r, he drew it back and struck. Just lightly. Just enough to remove a fragment of rock. He did it again and again. The soft tapping of the hammer not loud enough to wake anyone even if they were close enough to hear it.
He continued to chip away for the better part of an hour, as he often did to pass the restless night. He struck gently, careful not to break any bones, only to uncover them. Every so often, he would stop to blow or brush the dust away.
On he worked. Long into the night. He’d sleep until midday, but the days were hot and the nights were cool and quiet. At night, he could be alone with his thoughts. He felt himself becoming more and more nocturnal, his body clock adjusting without reason or consent. Come morning, Jonathan would notice the work done in the night and at first, it puzzled him to no end. Occasionally, he would tell his son off for contaminating the dig, but most days, he would just be thankful for Jasper taking an interest. And Jasper would be thankful for his dad doing the same.
He hammered away – a hundred years with every tap – until suddenly, the blow was muted, suppressed. It wasn’t rock he hit, but something else.
Something soft.
Jasper leaned in for a closer look, squinting in the artificial light. From this angle, it looked almost like...
His eyes grew wide with the realisation, and he dropped the hammer and scrambled out of the pit.
CHAPTER THREE
Out Of The Past...
Jonathan and Zoe had not been woken by their son since he was seven years old and had a nightmare about a Tyrannosaurus Rex chasing him through the trees. He had burrowed in between them and tossed and turned all night so neither parent got another wink. Somewhere around four AM, they vowed not to let him watch another dinosaur documentary until he was a little older.
Ten years later, they were roughly shaken awake by that same son, his voice just as urgent as it had been then. “Mum! Dad!”
Jonathan groaned and rolled over. Zoe sat up, eyes half-closed but as alert as someone could be in that situation.
“What is it, honey? Is everything alright?”