“I’ll be damned,” he said. “It’s a mating ritual.”
“Can we get past them?” Tim asked.
“Not the way they are now. They’re right by the edge of the water.” Grant knew animals often performed such mating rituals for hours at a time. They went without food, they paid attention to nothing else.… He glanced at his watch. Nine-twenty.
“What do we do?” Tim said.
Grant sighed. “I have no idea.”
He sat down in the raft, and then the dilophosaurs began to honk and roar repeatedly, in agitation. He looked up. The animals were both facing away from the river.
“What is it?” Lex said.
Grant smiled. “I think we’re finally getting some help.” He pushed off from the bank. “I want you two kids to lie flat on the rubber. We’ll go past as fast as we can. But just remember: whatever happens, don’t say anything, and don’t move. Okay?”
The raft began to drift downstream, toward the hooting dilophosaurs. It gained speed. Lex lay at Grant’s feet, staring at him with frightened eyes. They were coming closer to the dilophosaurs, which were still turned away from the river. But he pulled out his air pistol, checked the chamber.
The raft continued on, and they smelled a peculiar odor, sweet and nauseating at the same time. It smelled like dried vomit. The hooting of the dilophosaurs was louder. The raft came around a final bend and Grant caught his breath. The dilophosaurs were just a few feet away, honking at the trees beyond the river.
As Grant had suspected, they were honking at the tyrannosaur. The tyrannosaur was trying to break through the foliage, and the dilos hooted and stomped their feet in the mud. The raft drifted past them. The smell was nauseating. The tyrannosaur roared, probably because it saw the raft. But in another moment…
A thump.
The raft stopped moving. They were aground, against the riverbank, just a few feet downstream from the dilophosaurs.
Lex whispered, “Oh, great.”
There was a long slow scraping sound of the raft against the mud. Then the raft was moving again. They were going down the river. The tyrannosaur roared a final time and moved off; one dilophosaur looked surprised, then hooted. The other dilophosaur hooted in reply.
The raft floated downriver.
TYRANNOSAUR
The Jeep bounced along in the glaring sun. Muldoon was driving, with Gennaro at his side. They were in an open field, moving away from the dense line of foliage and palm trees that marked the course of the river, a hundred yards to the east. They came to a rise, and Muldoon stopped the car.
“Christ, it’s hot,” he said, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. He drank from the bottle of whiskey between his knees, then offered it to Gennaro.
Gennaro shook his head. He stared at the landscape shimmering in the morning heat. Then he looked down at the onboard computer and video monitor mounted in the dashboard. The monitor showed views of the park from remote cameras. Still no sign of Grant and the children. Or of the tyrannosaur.
The radio crackled. “Muldoon.”
Muldoon picked up the handset. “Yeah.”
“You got your onboards? I found the rex. He’s in grid 442. Going to 443.”
“Just a minute,” Muldoon said, adjusting the monitor. “Yeah. I got him now. Following the river.” The animal was slinking along the foliage that lined the banks of the river, going north.
“Take it easy with him. Just immobilize him.”
“Don’t worry,” Muldoon said, squinting in the sun. “I won’t hurt him.”
“Remember,” Arnold said, “the tyrannosaur’s our main tourist attraction.”
Muldoon turned off his radio with a crackle of static. “Bloody fool,” he said. “They’re still talking about tourists.” Muldoon started the engine. “Let’s go see Rexy and give him a dose.”
The Jeep jolted over the terrain.
“You’re looking forward to this,” Gennaro said.
“I’ve wanted to put a needle in this big bastard for a while,” Muldoon said. “And there he is.”
They came to a wrenching stop. Through the windshield, Gennaro saw the tyrannosaur directly ahead of them, moving among the palm trees along the river.
Muldoon drained the whiskey bottle and threw it in the backseat. He reached back for his tubing. Gennaro looked at the video monitor, which showed their Jeep and the tyrannosaur. There must be a closed-circuit camera in the trees somewhere behind.
“You want to help,” Muldoon said, “you can break out those canisters by your feet.”
Gennaro bent over and opened a stainless-steel Halliburton case. It was padded inside with foam. Four cylinders, each the size of a quart milk bottle, were nestled in the foam. They were all labeled MORO-709. He took one out.
“You snap off the tip and screw on a needle,” Muldoon explained.
Gennaro found a plastic package of large needles, each the diameter of his fingertip. He screwed one onto the canister. The opposite end of the canister had a circular lead weight.
“That’s the plunger. Compresses on impact.” Muldoon sat forward with the air rifle across his knees. It was made of heavy gray tubular metal and looked to Gennaro like a bazooka or a rocket launcher.
“What’s MORO-709?”
“Standard animal trank,” Muldoon said. “Zoos around the world use it. We’ll try a thousand cc’s to start.” Muldoon cracked open the chamber, which was large enough to insert his fist. He slipped the canister into the chamber and closed it.
“That should do it,” Muldoon said. “Standard elephant gets about two hundred cc’s, but they’re only two or three tons each. Tyrannosaurus rex is eight tons, and a lot meaner. That matters to the dose.”
“Why?”
“Animal dose is partly body weight and partly temperament. You shoot the same dose of 709 into an elephant, a hippo, and a rhino—you’ll immobilize the elephant, so it just stands there like a statue. You’ll slow down the hippo, so it gets kind of sleepy but it keeps moving. And the rhino will just get fighting mad. But, on the other hand, you chase a rhino for more than five minutes in a car and he’ll drop dead from adrenaline shock. Strange combination of tough and delicate.”
Muldoon drove slowly toward the river, moving closer to the tyrannosaur. “But those are all mammals. We know a lot about handling mammals, because zoos are built around the big mammalian attractions—lions, tigers, bears, elephants. We know a lot less about reptiles. And nobody knows anything about dinosaurs. The dinosaurs are new animals.”
“You consider them reptiles?” Gennaro said.
“No,” Muldoon said, shifting gears. “Dinosaurs don’t fit existing categories.” He swerved to avoid a rock. “Actually, what we find is, the dinosaurs were as variable as mammals are today. Some dinos are tame and cute, and some are mean and nasty. Some of them see well, and some of them don’t. Some of them are stupid, and some of them are very, very intelligent.”
“Like the raptors?” Gennaro said.
Muldoon nodded. “Raptors are smart. Very smart. Believe me, all the problems we have so far,” he said, “are nothing compared with what we’d have if the raptors ever got out of their holding pen. Ah. I think this is as close as we can get to our Rexy.”
Up ahead, the tyrannosaur was poking its head through the branches, peering toward the river. Trying to get through. Then the animal moved a few yards downstream, to try again.
“Wonder what he sees in there?” Gennaro said.
“Hard to know,” Muldoon said. “Maybe he’s trying to get to the microceratopsians that scramble around in the branches. They’ll run him a merry chase.”
Muldoon stopped the Jeep about fifty yards away from the tyrannosaur, and turned the vehicle around. He left the motor running. “Get behind the wheel,” Muldoon said. “And put your seat belt on.” He took another canister and hooked it onto his shirt. Then he got out.
Gennaro slid behind the wheel. “You done this very often before?”
Muldoon be
lched. “Never. I’ll try to get him just behind the auditory meatus. We’ll see how it goes from there.” He walked ten yards behind the Jeep and crouched down in the grass on one knee. He steadied the big gun against his shoulder, and flipped up the thick telescopic sight. Muldoon aimed at the tyrannosaur, which still ignored them.
There was a burst of pale gas, and Gennaro saw a white streak shoot forward in the air toward the tyrannosaur. But nothing seemed to happen.
Then the tyrannosaur turned slowly, curiously, to peer at them. It moved its head from side to side, as if looking at them with alternate eyes.
Muldoon had taken down the launcher, and was loading the second canister.
“You hit him?” Gennaro said.
Muldoon shook his head. “Missed. Damn laser sights … See if there’s a battery in the case.”
“A what?” Gennaro said.
“A battery,” Muldoon said. “It’s about as big as your finger. Gray markings.”
Gennaro bent over to look in the steel case. He felt the vibration of the Jeep, heard the motor ticking over. He didn’t see a battery. The tyrannosaur roared. To Gennaro it was a terrifying sound, rumbling from the great chest cavity of the animal, bellowing out over the landscape. He sat up sharply and reached for the steering wheel, put his hand on the gearshift. On the radio, he heard a voice say, “Muldoon. This is Arnold. Get out of there. Over.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Muldoon said.
The tyrannosaur charged.
Muldoon stood his ground. Despite the creature racing toward him, he slowly and methodically raised his launcher, aimed, and fired. Once again, Gennaro saw the puff of smoke, and the white streak of the canister going toward the animal.
Nothing happened. The tyrannosaur continued to charge.
Now Muldoon was on his feet and running, shouting, “Go! Go!” Gennaro put the Jeep in gear and Muldoon threw himself onto the side door as the Jeep lurched forward. The tyrannosaur was closing rapidly, and Muldoon swung the door open and climbed inside.
“Go, damn it! Go!”
Gennaro floored it. The Jeep bounced precariously, the front end nosing so high they saw only sky through the windshield, then slamming down again toward the ground and racing forward again. Gennaro headed for a stand of trees to the left until, in the rearview mirror, he saw the tyrannosaur give a final roar and turn away.
Gennaro slowed the car. “Jesus.”
Muldoon was shaking his head. “I could have sworn I hit him the second time.”
“I’d say you missed,” Gennaro said.
“Needle must have broken off before the plunger injected.”
“Admit it, you missed.”
“Yeah,” Muldoon said. He sighed. “I missed. Battery was dead in the damned laser sights. My fault. I should have checked it, after it was out all last night. Let’s go back and get more canisters.”
The Jeep headed north, toward the hotel. Muldoon picked up the radio. “Control.”
“Yes,” Arnold said.
“We’re heading back to base.”
The river was now very narrow, and flowing swiftly. The raft was going faster all the time. It was starting to feel like an amusement park ride.
“Whee!” Lex yelled, holding on to the gunwale. “Faster, faster!”
Grant squinted, looking forward. The river was still narrow and dark, but farther ahead he could see the trees ended, and there was bright sunlight beyond, and a distant roaring sound. The river seemed to end abruptly in a peculiar flat line.…
The raft was going still faster, rushing forward.
Grant grabbed for his paddles.
“What is it?”
“It’s a waterfall,” Grant said.
The raft swept out of the overhanging darkness into brilliant morning sunlight, and raced forward on the swift current toward the lip of the waterfall. The roar was loud in their ears. Grant paddled as strongly as he could, but he only succeeded in spinning the boat in circles. It continued inexorably toward the lip.
Lex leaned toward him. “I can’t swim!” Grant saw that she did not have her life vest clasped, but there was nothing he could do about it; with frightening speed, they came to the edge, and the roar of the waterfall seemed to fill the world. Grant jammed his oar deep into the water, felt it catch and hold, right at the lip; the rubber raft shuddered in the current, but they did not go over. Grant strained against the oar and, looking over the edge, saw the sheer drop of fifty feet down to the surging pool below.
And standing in the surging pool, waiting for them, was the tyrannosaur.
Lex was screaming in panic, and then the boat spun, and the rear end dropped away, spilling them out into air and roaring water, and they fell sickeningly. Grant flailed his arms in the air, and the world went suddenly silent and slow.
It seemed to him he fell for long minutes; he had time to observe Lex, clutching her orange jacket, falling alongside him; he had time to observe Tim, looking down at the bottom; he had time to observe the frozen white sheet of the waterfall; he had time to observe the bubbling pool beneath him as he fell slowly, silently toward it.
Then, with a stinging slap, Grant plunged into cold water, surrounded by white boiling bubbles. He tumbled and spun and glimpsed the leg of the tyrannosaur as he was swirled past it, swept down through the pool and out into the stream beyond. Grant swam for the shore, clutched warm rocks, slipped off, caught a branch, and finally pulled himself out of the main current. Gasping, he dragged himself on his belly onto the rocks, and looked at the river just in time to see the brown rubber raft tumble past him. Then he saw Tim, battling the current, and he reached out and pulled him, coughing and shivering, onto the shore beside him.
Grant turned back to the waterfall, and saw the tyrannosaur plunge its head straight down into the water of the pool at his feet. The great head shook, splashing water to either side. It had something between its teeth.
And then the tyrannosaur lifted its head back up.
Dangling from the jaws was Lex’s orange life vest.
A moment later, Lex bobbed to the surface beside the dinosaur’s long tail. She lay facedown in the water, her little body swept downstream by the current. Grant plunged into the water after her, was again immersed in the churning torrent. A moment later, he pulled her up onto the rocks, a heavy, lifeless weight. Her face was gray. Water poured from her mouth.
Grant bent over her to give her mouth-to-mouth but she coughed. Then she vomited yellow-green liquid and coughed again. Her eyelids fluttered. “Hi,” she said. She smiled weakly. “We did it.”
Tim started to cry. She coughed again. “Will you stop it? What’re you crying for?”
“Because.”
“We were worried about you,” Grant said. Small flecks of white were drifting down the river. The tyrannosaur was tearing up the life vest. Still turned away from them, facing the waterfall. But at any minute the animal might turn and see them.… “Come on, kids,” he said.
“Where are we going?” Lex said, coughing.
“Come on.” He was looking for a hiding place. Downstream he saw only an open grassy plain, affording no protection. Upstream was the dinosaur. Then Grant saw a dirt path by the river. It seemed to lead up toward the waterfall.
And in the dirt he saw the clear imprint of a man’s shoe. Leading up the path.
The tyrannosaur finally turned around, growling and looking out toward the grassy plain. It seemed to have figured out that they had gotten away. It was looking for them downstream. Grant and the kids ducked among the big ferns that lined the riverbanks. Cautiously, he led them upstream. “Where are we going?” Lex said. “We’re going back.”
“I know.”
They were closer to the waterfall now, the roar much louder. The rocks became slippery, the path muddy. There was a constant hanging mist. It was like moving through a cloud. The path seemed to lead right into the rushing water, but as they came closer, they saw that it actually went behind the waterfall.
The ty
rannosaur was still looking downstream, its back turned to them. They hurried along the path to the waterfall, and had almost moved behind the sheet of falling water when Grant saw the tyrannosaur turn. Then they were completely behind the waterfall, and Grant was unable to see out through the silver sheet.
Grant looked around in surprise. There was a little recess here, hardly larger than a closet, and filled with machinery: humming pumps and big filters and pipes. Everything was wet, and cold.
“Did he see us?” Lex said. She had to shout over the noise of the falling water. “Where are we? What is this place? Did he see us?”
“Just a minute,” Grant said. He was looking at the equipment. This was clearly park machinery. And there must be electricity to run it, so perhaps there was also a telephone for communication. He poked among the filters and pipes.
“What are you doing?” Lex shouted.
“Looking for a telephone.” It was now nearly 10:00 a.m. They had just a little more than an hour to contact the ship before it reached the mainland.
In the back of the recess he found a metal door marked MAINT 04, but it was firmly locked. Next to it was a slot for a security card. Alongside the door he saw a row of metal boxes. He opened the boxes one after another, but they contained only switches and timers. No telephone. And nothing to open the door.
He almost missed the box to the left of the door. On opening it, he found a nine-button keypad, covered with spots of green mold. But it looked as if it was a way to open the door, and he had the feeling that on the other side of that door was a phone. Scratched in the metal of the box was the number 1023. He punched it in.
With a hiss, the door came open. Gaping darkness beyond, concrete steps leading downward. On the back wall he saw stenciled MAINT VEHICLE 04/22 CHARGER and an arrow pointing down the stairs. Could it really mean there was a car? “Come on, kids.”
“Forget it,” Lex said. “I’m not going in there.”
“Come on, Lex,” Tim said.
“Forget it,” Lex said. “There’s no lights or anything. I’m not going.”
“Never mind,” Grant said. There wasn’t time to argue. “Stay here, and I’ll be right back.”