"Piece of cake."
The airplane slowed as it neared the sand bar until it hovered above it. The craft's long silver wings shrank until they were mere slivers at the ends of the stubby black ones. Then Joe guided the plane down in a gentle vertical descent. Once they were resting on dry sand, the seats released their passengers, and the door opened in the rear compartment. Con kicked off her shoes and was the first one out the door. The Elasmosaurs were bunched together near the opposite end of the sand bar. All their necks were raised, and they watched her as she emerged from the plane. They were already losing interest by the time Rick and Joe climbed out. The animals' necks grad-ually went limp until they floated on the warm shallow water or draped over their neighbors' backs.
"They certainly look relaxed," commented Joe.
Con walked down the sand toward the basking animals with Rick close behind. She slowed down as they got near. "Will they bite?" she asked Rick.
"They're fish eaters, but that's all I know. They might bite."
One of the closest reptiles lifted its neck above the water and rapidly swung it in their direction. Both Con and Rick jumped back. The animal's head halted ten feet way. Sharp conical teeth projected up and down from its closed lips, making it look both fierce and comical. It cocked its head and studied them with its golden eye. The creature's stare gave no indication of what thoughts, if any, it had of the strange invaders. After a minute, the neck swung away.
"Is anybody hungry?" Joe called out.
"I'm starving," Con called back.
Joe went into the plane and brought out a large cooler covered with a beach blanket. They spread the blanket on the sand and sat down to eat. It was a perfect setting for a picnic. A slight breeze had picked up, cooling them as it created a soothing rhythm of gentle waves breaking on the sand. The basking plesiosaurs provided a languid note of interest in their tranquil surroundings. Pandit's lunch was delicious and ample. Soon Rick sat back, feel-ing full and perfectly content.
"Are you going to finish your sandwich?" asked Con, who had just eaten her second one.
"Have it. I'm stuffed," said Rick. "How can such a slender person eat so much?" Con bristled slightly. "Are you asking if I'm souped?"
"No ... no ... not at all," said Rick quickly, already regretting his comment.
"I'm not responsible for what happened before I was born."
"Look, I..."
"I don't know why people make such a big deal over it."
"Parents always want what's best for their kids," said Rick, trying to mollify her
"So you approve?" cha'ienged Con.
"Sure. It's just. .. veil. . . sometimes what's best changes."
"Now you've stepped in it!" said Joe jocularly, while flashing Rick a look that made him feel even dumber.
"And what do you mean by that?" asked Con.
"Just that genes that make you fat in times of plenty, help you survive in times of famine. It wouldn't do for everyone to get souped."
Joe laughed. "Small chance of that."
"For an individual, it's great," said Rick. "You'll prob-ably reach a hundred and look great doing it." Con looked somewhat placated. "Some people give me a hard time about it. I guess I'm a little touchy."
"Sorry," said Rick. "I wasn't being critical."
Con rose and began to wander along the edge of the sandbar. The tide was still going out, and the basking plesiosaurs had moved farther out with it. Rick noticed that she avoided the water. Suddenly, she yelled to them, "You've got to see this!"
Joe and Rick walked over and looked where she was pointing. Half-buried in the sand, about fifteen feet from the shore, was an ammonite shell. It was easily three feet in diameter. Between waves, a portion of its smooth sur-face projected above the water. The shell's exterior was golden brown with veins of yellow, orange, and mahog-any, all overlaid with a pattern of irregular spots. The interior was deep purple shading into pink.
"Isn't it beautiful," said Con.
Rick removed his sandals and waded out for a closer look.
"Don't!" cried out Con.
Rick scanned the clear water around the sandbar. "I don't see anything to worry about." He grabbed the edge of the shell and gave a tug. It moved slightly. "It's stuck in the sand." While Con watched nervously, he bent over and began scooping sand from around the shell with his hands. A passing wave thoroughly drenched his shirt-front. He kept digging, revealing more of the shell. It seemed to be in perfect condition. Rising again, he once more tugged at the shell. It budged a little. "Joe, could you give me a hand?" Joe waded out and assisted Rick. Straining together, they were able to drag the shell a few inches.
"Damn, this is heavy!" said Joe.
"Probably all the chambers are filled with water," said Rick.
Con, after some nervous hesitation, waded out, saying, "I'll push while you two pull." Rick was surprised she entered the water and more sur-prised by her strength. Together, the three muscled the shell onto the dry sand. By then, they were completely drenched.
"Too bad I don't have a bathing suit," said Con. She turned to stare sharply at Rick. "I will not't" she said in a shocked tone.
"Not what?" asked Rick.
"Don't you know souped girls are telepathic?" Con said. She watched Rick flush red before she nearly fell over laughing. "For someone who claims to be a scientist, you sure are gullible." Rick blushed even more. Con grinned broadly at his embarrassment and pushed her point. "Apparently, you're not as used to it as you claim."
"Am I missing something here?" asked Joe.
"Just a private joke," muttered Rick.
By maneuvering the shell about, they were able to drain much of the water from its inner chambers. Even-tually, it was light enough for them to lift and carry into the plane. They walked about to let the sun and wind dry their wet clothes before taking off to resume their travels.
They flew next to a spire of rock jutting two hundred feet above the sea. From a distance, Con thought the is-land was wreathed in swirling streamers of cloud, but as they came nearer, the "clouds" proved to be masses of white pterosaurs. Taking advantage of the winds, they soared gracefully through the air like living kites, flap-ping their long, sickle-shaped wings only occasionally. The animals appeared to consist of large-beaked and crested heads, longish necks, and small, tailless bodies, supported by large, narrow wings. These wings resem-bled neither those of birds nor bats. They were comprised of a stiffened membrane stretched between the animal's arm and a single, greatly elongated, finger and the ani-mal's thigh. The smaller fliers had wingspans of nine feet, while others had wingspans of twenty-three and thirty feet. Rick pointed out the different kinds and named them, " Nyctosaurus ... Pteranodon ingens . . . Pteranodon sternbergi."
"What do they eat?" ask Con.
"Watch," said Rick. "See them skimming just above the water? Watch what they do. See that? One just caught a fish."
"That's so neat!" said Con with excitement. "It scooped it up without missing a wingbeat." There was no place to land, so Joe simply circled the island slowly. Occasionally they were able to follow a pterosaur as it flew, sometimes approaching within a few yards of the animal.
"They look like giant hairy birds or something out of a medieval bestiary," said Con. They soared among the pterosaurs for almost an hour before Con asked if they could see how far the sea ex-tended. Joe flew away from the pterosaurs, then put the plane into a steep climb. As their altitude increased, their view of the world became more expansive. The moun-tains of the western coast and the narrow, river-cut coastal plain could be seen clearly. "Shall I just follow the coastline?" asked Joe.
"It's up to you, Con," said Rick.
"That sounds good."
The view from such a high altitude, while impressive, soon became monotonous. Con found her mind wander-ing. "I found something strange in my room last night."