Denise walked quickly to the fire, hugging herself against the morning chill.
“Good morning,” Chuck said.
“Good morning,” she answered. She held her hands out to the fire and said, “Are Jurassic times really colder or do they just seem that way?”
“As a matter of fact,” Chuck said, “they’re much warmer. The dampness will go as soon as the sun has had a chance to work a little. All these plants, you know.”
Denise shuddered. “I wish the sun would stop loafing, then,” she said.
“How about some bacon and eggs?” Pete asked. “And a steaming mug of coffee? That ought to take the chill off.”
“My uncle doesn’t like me to drink coffee,” Denise said. She looked around the camp and asked, “Say, where is everybody?”
“Exploring,” Chuck said.
“So early?” She shook her blonde head and opened her eyes in wonder. “You’d think my uncle would want to stay as far away from those brutes as possible. Sometimes I don’t understand him at all.” She paused and turned to Chuck. “Like shooting at those — stegosaurs, were they? You’d think he’d have more sense than that.”
“Your uncle thinks he’s on an African safari,” Chuck said, smiling.
Denise smiled back, a warm smile that lit her entire face. “Yes, isn’t it silly? A grown man playing Tarzan.”
“You’d better not let him hear you say that, Miss,” Pete said.
Denise shrugged. “I think I’ll have a little coffee after all,” she said.
Pete served up the bacon and eggs, poured the steaming coffee into big, white mugs. They ate hungrily, sipping at the coffee, not stopping to talk. Pete watched them with obvious enjoyment, a cook’s pride sprawled all over his face.
“This is delicious, Pete,” Denise said.
“Why, thank you, Miss.” Pete beamed at her.
“Excellent,” Chuck chimed in.
Pete’s smile grew larger and he looked as if he were ready to burst into song again. He began cleaning his pots, the smile still on his face.
Chuck got to his feet and stretched. The meal had made him feel full and lazy. He glanced over at the truck in time to see Gardel swing a leg over the tailgate and drop down to the ground. Quickly, like a black snake slithering across the ground, he came up to the fire.
“That coffee I smell?” he asked.
Pete looked up. “Like a cup, Brock?”
“I could use one.”
Pete took the big pot from the fire and poured a cup for Gardel. He handed it to him and asked, “Did you kill any dinosaurs for supper?” A merry twinkle sparkled in his eyes as he studied Gardel’s face.
“Things were pretty quiet,” Gardel said soberly, missing Pete’s wit completely. He sipped at the coffee, his thin lips pulling at the rim of the cup.
“Where are we going from here?” Pete asked.
Gardel took the cup from his lips. “Hunting,” he said simply.
“For what?”
Gardel hesitated a moment. “Animals. What else is there to hunt?”
“We’d be smarter hunting for a nice warm cave or something,” Denise said. “Doesn’t my uncle realize these animals are dangerous?”
Gardel pulled his black brows together. “That’s what makes hunting interesting,” he said. “Nobody hunts household pets, Denise.”
“According to law,” Chuck put in, “nobody hunts dinosaurs, either.”
Gardel smiled a thin smile. “You sound like your brother, son.”
“My brother knows this period well,” Chuck said. “He explained why real hunting wasn’t allowed and...”
Gardel chuckled a little. “Did he really expect us to believe that knocking off a few dinosaurs is going to affect the future history of mankind?”
“No, not if that were the extent of it. But how many of a species can you kill before you exterminate the entire species?”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Gardel said. “We don’t intend to knock off more than our quota.” He thought that was funny and began laughing, only to stop abruptly when he saw he was laughing alone. “You know,” he explained, “like in hunting season.”
“Let’s hope we don’t wind up being the hunted” Pete said. “Those animals yesterday looked mighty fierce.”
“They didn’t touch us, did they?” Gardel asked smugly.
Pete shrugged. “Maybe they weren’t very hungry.”
Gardel laughed halfheartedly, then glanced at his watch. “I wonder what’s keeping Mr. Masterson.”
It was almost as if he’d spoken the cue for a stage entrance. The words had barely left his mouth when a thrashing in the bushes announced the return of the explorers. Masterson was the first to step onto the flat shale, stamping the mud from his shining boots.
“Well,” he boomed, “I see everyone’s up and around. Have a good night, Denise?”
“All right, I suppose,” Denise said.
“We’ve got a big day ahead,” Masterson said cheerfully. He was smiling broadly, as if his little sortie had been a big success. Chuck’s eyes sought his brother’s face, found it expressionless. “Mighty interesting country hereabout,” Masterson went on. “Eh, Spencer?”
“Fine country,” Owen replied.
Arthur stood silently by Owen, his arms hanging at his sides, his big hands open.
“I want to get under way as soon as possible,” Masterson said. He looked at Gardel. “From what I could gather, Brock, we should head out past the lake, swinging away from it about a mile from here. That sound all right to you?”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Masterson.”
“Fine! Let’s load up then. Pete, Arthur, get started on this mess, will you?” He rubbed his hands together. “We’ve got a big day ahead. A mighty big day.”
The sun climbed into the sky, peering down on the moving truck and jeep like a hot, unwinking eye. It was a warm day, like a spring day back home, with the smell of rich earth and growing things in the air. The vehicles left the flat rocks and began shoving through the tangled vegetation again. Insects sprang up around them like fine clouds of dust. The ferns parted, leafy lacelike curtains that would be pressed with the weight of time to form the coal beds of the future. The progress was slow, and the land begrudged the party every inch it gave up.
Chuck sat in the jeep and watched the land unfold before them. The panorama of green stretched for miles, a gently undulating sea of growth that shifted and rolled with the mild breeze. There was a stillness on the land that somehow made it more alien. Far in the distance, Chuck could see the jagged, weathered peaks of a mountain range. And dotting the land, like glistening mirrors embedded in a green velvet carpet, were countless lakes. There were scurrying creatures in the brush-small reptiles that gleamed brightly as they scampered by. Chuck was thankful that they’d seen none of the larger animals since their brush with the stegosaurs.
And then the pterosaur appeared, quite suddenly.
At first it was nothing more than a shadow that skimmed the ground, covering the truck and moving back over the jeep.
Chuck looked up rapidly and there it was, silhouetted against the sky, the sun filtering through its membranous wings.
It was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared.
The truck stopped and Masterson came running back to the jeep, his rifle in his hands.
“What was that, Spencer? Did you see it? A bird or something!” His face was flushed with excitement and his eyes kept flicking to the sky.
“That was a pterosaur,” Owen said. “A flying reptile.”
“Brother, it was something!” Masterson said.
“Probably Rhamphorhynchus,” Chuck said. “It looked like one.”
Masterson’s eyes lit up, and he pointed rapidly. “It’s coming back. I’m going to get a shot at that baby!”
“I wouldn’t advise it,” Owen said tightly.
“I’ve had enough of your advice,” Masterson replied.
The pterosaur was winging its way back to the jeep, gliding lower and lower. It looked something like an enormous bat with a peculiarly shaped head. It had a short, stout body, a fairly long neck and a short tail. Its wings were fully spread, some four feet from wing tip to wing tip. As it fell toward the jeep, Masterson readied his rifle for a shot.
Chuck could see every detail of the creature now.
Its front limbs ended in sharp claws. One finger of each limb was enormously elongated to support the membrane, which spread like a thin web and connected with the rear limbs.
The creature’s head was a long, flat, bony affair, terminating in a pointed beak at one end. The whole head gave the illusion of having been passed through a wringer. When the pterosaur opened its jaws, Chuck saw the sparkle of sharp teeth. Then the jaws snapped shut, and the reptile’s shadow fell over the jeep as the creature passed directly overhead.
There was the loud boom of Masterson’s gun breaking the stillness of the morning. The reptile’s jaws opened again, and a hoarse, high scream tore the air to shreds, ran up the spine like the blood cry of a banshee. The wings flapped frantically as Masterson squeezed off shot after shot. Chuck stood by helplessly, his fists clenched tightly. Then the pterosaur gained altitude, its long shadow gliding over the land. Higher it went, and higher, flying away from the thing with the fast-flying, steel-jacketed teeth.
“Brother!” Masterson said. “That’s the strangest darned bird I’ve ever seen!”
“It’s one of the strangest flying creatures that ever existed,” Chuck said. “But it’s not a bird.”
“Well, it certainly looked like a bird,” Masterson insisted.
“We may see some birds before we leave the Jurassic period,” Owen said. “As a matter of fact, the first feathered creatures make their appearance in these times. I don’t think you’ll recognize them as birds, though.”
“Well,” Masterson said, still dubious, “whatever that was, I’d have liked to take it back as a trophy.” He turned and started walking back toward the truck. “Hey, Brock!” he called. “Did you see that?”