Arthur turned to him then and said softly, “Sometimes, life gets mighty hard to live. Sometimes. But it’s good to be alive anyway.” There was gratitude in his deep brown eyes and a serious expression on his strong features.
Chuck didn’t say anything. He was remembering how Arthur had unhesitatingly jumped out of the jeep and thrown open the hood. He was remembering, too, the way the stegosaurs had looked as they massed for a charge. A shudder worked its way through his body.
“It’s all over,” Owen said quietly. “For now, anyway.”
Chuck looked back over his shoulder. Far in the distance, beyond the herd of stegosaurs, he saw two sharply pointed white rocks jutting up against the sky. The rocks were large, like two oversized mounds of vanilla custard plopped down on a green plate. They sat there majestically, placid against the mild blue sky. Chuck looked at them hard, remembering every detail of them. He knew that the rendezvous site was near those towering rocks and he didn’t want to forget that.
The stegosaurs had stopped running and were already intent on nibbling at the foliage again. It was almost as if their small brains could cope with only one problem at a time. The only problem that confronted them at the moment was their hunger. They looked almost docile as they stood with their heads bent, plucking at the leaves.
Up to this point, they had been creatures of the imagination. They weren’t any longer. They were as real as cats or dogs, as real as anything Chuck had ever known. The pictures in the books had come alive for him at last. The word “stegosaur” would never again be simply a word. Whenever he saw it, he would remember the herd in flight, remember the sound of their hoofs, remember with horror the first terrifying scream when one of Masterson’s bullets had found a mark.
And there were others, wallowing in the inland lakes, feeding on the plants, chewing the smaller animals to shreds. Everywhere around them, a universe of reptiles, a society of lumbering beasts.
And
Would
How many reptiles watched from the depths of their primitive shelters, their flat eyes following the slow progress of the two vehicles?
The thought was a little frightening. Chuck suddenly wished he were back home, in his own time, in his own room, with only his books to remind him of Jurassic times.
One week. If everything went well, they’d be home in one week.
The land was sparsely vegetated now, leveling off into beds of limestone and shale. Several ferns dotted the rocks, but these were few and far between. It was like leaving a thick living-room rug and walking out to the sidewalk. The going was easier, and the truck picked up speed, its tires rolling easily over the rock beds. Arthur kept the jeep about fifty feet behind the truck. He hadn’t said anything for a long time. He kept his eyes on the truck’s tailgate, watching Masterson and Gardel. Both men spoke animatedly, pointing to animals that appeared briefly in the distance.
The truck swung around in a wide arc, and a large lake came into view, shimmering blue in the bright light of the afternoon sun. The truck stopped, and Masterson dropped to the ground and waved at the jeep. Arthur stepped on the gas pedal, bringing the jeep up alongside the truck.
Masterson was smiling. “Quite a tussle back there, eh, Spencer?”
Owen didn’t answer.
“What’s the matter, Spencer? Angry about something?”
“You almost got us all killed,” Chuck blurted.
“We’re still alive, aren’t we?”
“Through no fault of yours,” Owen spoke up.
“Come on,” Masterson said cheerfully. “Forget about it, will you? This can be fun for all of us.”
“Sure,” Owen said dully. “Loads of good, clean fun.”
Masterson waved his arm at the lake. “How’s this for a camp site, Spencer?”
“Are you really asking my advice or just telling me you plan to camp here?”
“Come on, Spencer,” Masterson said again. “No need to be surly about this. I really want your advice.”
“My advice is to turn the truck around and head back for the rendezvous site. Once we get there, my advice is to stick close to the vehicles for the next week. That’s my advice.”
“Your advice isn’t very good,” Masterson said dryly. “Forgive me for asking.” He turned on his heel and shouted, “Brock, break out the supplies. We’re camping here for the night!”
They watched Pete climb out of the truck and walk around to the tailgate. Together with Gardel, he began unloading tents, cooking utensils, cartons of food. Gardel moved quickly, like a dark shadow that flitted in the afternoon sun.