The truck moved ahead over the lush growth, flattening ferns and bushes, its tires skidding over wet rocks. In the smaller vehicle Chuck peered through the windshield and then turned to Owen.
“What are we going to do?”
“What
“Do you really believe they’d use them on us?”
“I don’t know, Chuck. This is the first time anything like this has ever happened to me. Masterson is acting like a madman. If we’re not careful, he’ll get us all killed out here.”
Arthur said nothing. He kept his hands tight on the wheel and his eyes glued to the treacherous ground ahead.
They moved forward slowly, like children taking their first steps. The truck hugged the deeply vegetative ground, rumbling noisily to the ferns and cycads. Behind the truck, the jeep obediently shoved its way through the thick greenery that clung tenaciously to the land.
The shrubbery parted reluctantly. It was like a sentient thing forbidding passage. It clawed at the fenders, slapped against the metallic sides, stuck out long, jutting roots to ensnare the tires. Insects flurried into the air in frightened hordes as the vehicles pushed their way deeper into the lush plants. Chuck was surprised to recognize grasshoppers, cockroaches, beetles, flies, bees, butterflies and even moths. For an instant, he doubted that they were really back in Jurassic times. It seemed incredible that modern-day insects could have had their beginnings so very long ago. As if to add proof to his thoughts, a large ant crawled over the side of the jeep and he watched its frantic progress across the windshield.
Moisture clung to the giant leaves of the plants, slapping water at them as the jeep pushed aside the heavy foliage. Clinging close to the earth like a thick layer of gas, a heavy whitish mist silently worked its meandering way among the plants.
A silence seemed to pervade the air, a silence as deep as the lush growth, a silence somehow frightening in its completeness. It was almost as if life had withdrawn into a hollow shell, peering out with wide eyes. There was the feeling of being watched, a feeling as terrifying as the sound of footsteps behind you in a dark alley. The silence was broken only by the throaty growl of the truck and the higher-pitched whine of the jeep. And these sounds were completely out of place in this primitive expanse of wilderness. The mechanical voice of a rumbling engine was almost a violation here.
There was a magnificence to the scene, a lordly grandeur that filled Chuck with strange, excited emotions. Everything around him seemed to be growing without purpose or plan. The land fairly shrieked disorder, and yet, strangely enough, there was a deeper feeling of harmony about the whole. It puzzled Chuck and it confused him.
He kept watching the tortured progress of the truck, Pete’s red head shining above the tailgate like a bobbing beacon.
Unconsciously, his eyes strayed from the truck to the perimeter of heavy growth beyond the truck. He blinked, looked again, and then opened his eyes wide.
“Owen!”
“What is it?”
“Look! Past the truck. Near those evergreens!”
“What is it, Chuck?” Owen stood up and peered over the windshield, his eyes serious.
“Stegosaurs!” Chuck said. “He’s leading us right at them, Owen. A herd of stegosaurs!”
At almost the same instant, Masterson stuck his head from the cab of the truck, a beaming smile covering his face. “Look at that!” he shouted. “There are some dinosaurs for you!”
The stegosaurs were still nothing more than huge, grayish blobs set against the thick green background. Chuck looked at them again, squinting his eyes for a better view. The vehicles kept moving closer to the grazing herd.
“Turn back!” Owen shouted, his voice shrill and piercing. “Those animals can be dangerous, Masterson.”
Masterson began laughing-a highly, penetrating laugh that echoed over the land.
“Masterson!” Owen shouted.
Masterson did not answer. The truck kept moving forward, and Chuck found himself unable to sit still. He kept his eyes glued to the herd. He jiggled his feet against the floor board of the jeep, clenched and unclenched his fists, nibbled at his lower lip. They were much closer now, far too close for comfort.
“Masterson!” Owen shouted again.
Masterson’s head appeared. “What is it, Spencer?”
“You don’t know what you’re doing. Those brutes…”
“Brutes?” Masterson scoffed. “They’re eating grass, Spencer. They’re just big cows, that’s all.”
Owen shouted, “They’re plant eaters, yes-but even herbivorous animals can stampede. Masterson, can’t you…” He stopped talking as Masterson’s head disappeared within the cab. He turned to Chuck in exasperation, a tired expression pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“We can’t stop him, Chuck,” he said. “It’s no use.”
“Maybe… maybe it’ll be all right. They
“Sure,” Owen said, “but take a look at them.” He pointed over the windshield, and Chuck followed the line his arm and outstretched finger made.