Then he thought of Owen and he knew why they had turned to him for leadership. It was an automatic thing, he supposed. Owen had been their leader and now Owen was gone. It was natural to turn to Owen’s brother. The thought frightened him because he had never been in such a situation before. It frightened him even more because he had no idea where the rendezvous site was. He took a deep breath and climbed into the back of the truck, fervently wishing Owen were there to tell him what to do.
“Arthur,” he called. “Pete! Want to take some of this stuff? We’ll each have to carry packs. I’ll hand the equipment and food down and you can get it ready.”
He got to work, trying not to think of Owen or of what lay ahead. Methodically, he passed most of what they’d need down to Arthur and Pete. He kept moving toward the front of the truck as he worked his way through the piles of canned food. Outside, Arthur and Pete arranged the food in heavy packs, fully realizing this would have to last them for a long while. Chuck began moving material, trying to get at the food stacked near the cab of the truck. It wasn’t until he’d moved several shovels, pans and a large battery-driven power drill that he realized he was handling mining equipment. A puzzled frown crossed his face. What on earth was mining equipment doing in the truck? He dug a little deeper, shoving aside a half-dozen picks. And then he came across the box of dynamite. Surprise gave way to shock. He scratched his head worriedly. Why? Why had...
“Hey, Chuck,” Arthur called. “Any more stuff coming?”
Chuck came to his senses. “Just a moment,” he said. He stopped thinking about the dynamite and attacked the stack of food, carrying the cartons to Arthur’s waiting hands. In a little while the truck was almost empty. They were leaving a lot of material behind, but they were taking all they could carry and they could do no better than that.
Chuck jumped down to the ground and swung a heavy pack onto his shoulders, tightening the straps across his chest. He saw Masterson lift a pack and slip his arms through the canvas loops. Gardel helped him with it and then picked up his own pack. There was one thing Chuck had forgotten. He climbed to the back of the truck to correct his memory. “Arthur.”
“Yes?”
“Here,” he said.
He held out his hand, and Arthur looked up at the rifle Chuck was holding. “What’s that for?”
“The animals around here are treacherous,” Chuck said. He glanced significantly at Masterson and then handed Arthur another rifle. “You’d better give one to Pete, too.”
Arthur nodded, taking the rifles.
“How about us?” Gardel asked.
Chuck’s eyes remained cold and impersonal. “I think maybe you’ve both done enough hunting for awhile.”
“See here, youngster...” Masterson protested.
Arthur grinned good-naturedly, his teeth flashing white against his brown skin. “Your license has been temporarily revoked,” he said softly. At the same time he pulled back the bolt on his rifle, and the click of the cartridge sounded a dull warning.
Masterson eyed the gun with contempt. “You’re still working for me,” he said, his voice ominously low.
“I quit, Mr. Masterson,” Arthur said. “I quit a long time ago.”
“Why, you ungrateful...”
“I don’t work for you any more,” Arthur said, his eyes level.
Chuck strapped a Colt .45 to his waist and took a rifle from the truck. “I think we’d better get moving,” he said, dropping to the ground between Arthur and Masterson. “We’ll need plenty of time to get back to the rendezvous site.”
He saw Pete sling his rifle, watched the sullen looks on the faces of Masterson and Gardel. Denise came up alongside him and said, “My uncle isn’t very happy, Chuck.”
He didn’t answer. He started walking ahead of the group, heading in the direction he hoped was right.
Denise caught up and put her hand on his arm. “Are you mad at me, too, Chuck? Just because he’s my uncle?”
Chuck shook his head. “I’m sorry, Denise,” he said. “No, I’m not mad at you. It’s just... well... I don’t much care whether your uncle is happy or not. I just don’t care.”
“May I walk with you then?”
“Sure.” He glanced at her briefly. “Sure, Denise.”
The going wasn’t easy. They were on foot now and they struggled for every inch of progress. The land was wild and stubborn. It tore at their clothing and their skin, rose in their path suddenly, erecting rock barriers, tossing tangled patches of thick vegetation at them. Pete walked ahead, swinging a meat cleaver at the thick leaves and vines that threatened to strangle all progress. The insects enjoyed a field day. They bit angrily, descending in hordes, enjoying the exposed skin. And the sun bore down relentlessly, bathing them in its powerful rays.
The pack seemed to grow heavier. When Chuck had strapped it on at the truck, it had felt almost light. Its weight seemed to increase subtly as they covered more miles. It bit into his armpits, the straps threatening to cut off circulation. It hung on his back like a heavy sack of stones, pulling at his back and shoulder muscles, making his legs feel leaden and dull.
And there was always the danger of the animals. Chuck steered clear of any Jurassic fauna, remembering what had happened already, and anxious to avoid any repetition. The land seemed to be alive with reptiles of all types. Chuck recognized most of them, but he never stopped the party for a closer look. He knew that many of them were harmless plant eaters, but he also recognized some of the smaller carnivorous dinosaurs. Ornitholestes was among these. He glimpsed two of these six-foot-long flesh eaters striding across a flat rock surface on their hind legs, their shorter forelegs dangling from their chests. They had long, almost doglike snouts, and tails that accounted for more than half their length. But he knew they also had sharp teeth and he was not anxious to encounter them. He swung the party around, cutting through a grove of cycads, avoiding the pair of marauders.
The larger dinosaurs were in abundance, too. One of the sauropods he recognized immediately was Diplodocus. He saw the lone creature far in the distance, trodding the earth with slow, ponderous steps. The animal measured eighty-seven feet from the tip of its tail to the end of its snout, but it was not as weighty as a brontosaur, despite the latter’s shorter length. Diplodocuss weight was clustered about its middle, with most of its length absorbed in its extremely slender tail and neck. Its body was short and compact, strongly resembling an elephant’s, right down to the dull gray coloring. Since the vertebrae in the last ten feet of the animal’s tail did not decrease in size, this portion strongly reminded Chuck of a whiplash. He could imagine a flick of that tail in action, and so he once again swerved the party from its course, anxious to steer away from any encounters whatever.
Arthur apparently noticed Chuck’s subtle manipulation of the party. He pulled up alongside him and said, “I don’t blame you.”
Chuck turned his head, lost in thought. “Huh? What, Arthur? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
“I’ve been watching the way you’re leading us around the animals. I think it’s a good idea.”
Chuck nodded absently. “Some of them are very dangerous. We’ve passed flesh eaters who could tear us to shreds.”
Arthur grinned and said, “No one would eat me. My hide’s too old and tough.”
Chuck grinned with him, feeling his first moment of companionship since Owen had met his death. “No hide is too tough for a dinosaur,” Chuck said. “Not even Masterson’s.”
Arthur laughed out loud, a booming, contagious laugh that rang over the land. “Funny thing about Masterson,” he said. “Since I quit, I feel more free than I’ve ever felt. You know what I mean?”