“My colleague does not wish to sound like a spy in a melodrama,” Dr. Dumar interrupted. “But the location of the deposit is a secret. Until the government decides what to do with it, at any rate.”
Masterson nodded appreciatively. “Then you have mapped the area?”
“Yes, certainly.”
“Well,” he said, “it’s a lucky thing we stumbled onto you. You might have been lost here forever with all that valuable information on you.”
“Yes,” Dr. Dumar agreed. “I think we were very lucky to have found you. We have been living off the land, eating small reptiles and...”
“Say,” Pete interrupted, “how about some hot soup and sandwiches?”
“That sounds like an excellent suggestion,” Dr. Dumar said, nodding his bald head.
“In fact,” Dr. Perry added, “it’s the best suggestion I’ve heard in the past six months.”
Masterson smiled, immediately assuming the role of the benevolent host. “Eat all you like,” he said, “and after that we’ll get you back to the rendezvous site. Don’t worry.”
“I hate to be a wet blanket,” Chuck said to the doctors, “but I hope you’re not forgetting that we don’t know where the site is, either. I think you’d better have a quick meal. Then we’d better get started. It may take us longer to find than you think.”
“A sensible suggestion,” Dr. Perry said. “Come, Pierre, let’s sample some of that soup.”
The doctors moved over to the fire, and Masterson went with them, still playing the host, talking and laughing easily with them. Chuck wondered at his sudden change of mood and then shrugged the man off as being completely insane. He had undoubtedly forgotten all about the accident that had taken Owen’s life — had forgotten completely that he had indirectly caused the accident. Chuck hadn’t forgotten. He thought about it again and wondered why he referred to it as an accident. He recognized it for what it was, of course. A deliberate sacrifice on Owen’s part — a move to save his brother and Masterson. But if Masterson hadn’t driven the jeep away from the party, if he hadn’t frozen at the wheel in the face of the charging brontosaurs... Chuck shook his head. There was no point in thinking this way. Masterson had deserted the party and he had frozen to the wheel — and Owen was dead. For a desperate moment, Chuck wished that he had a portable Time Slip of his own, a mechanism that would allow him to go back over the hours and relive the whole terrible incident. Had he known beforehand... He wondered. Would he have left Masterson to die? Or would he have followed the same course of action, automatically rushing to Masterson’s rescue, in spite of the impending danger? With Owen’s life at stake, Chuck knew what he would have done. Or did he?
If someone came to you and said, “This morning, on the way to school, you will see a man about to be run down by a truck. If you save this man, someone dear to you will be very seriously hurt. If you let him die, you and your loved one will escape without injury,” what would you do? You would probably leave the man to die. Or would you save him anyway, thinking that the future would take care of itself — that you might be able to prevent the injury to your loved one even if...
The future!
Chuck went pale.
The future. What of the future? A spasm of disbelief worked its way through his body. His mind reeled as the full importance of Owen’s death registered on his numbed senses.
He tried to shove the realization aside, but it persisted, filling his mind with thoughts that started him trembling again.
Owen had died 100 million years before he had been born!
That meant that Owen had never really existed at all. It meant that back in his own time, devastating changes would be taking place. He could only begin to guess at the smallest of these changes, and they assailed his confused mind like a lethal shower of bullets.
His room. There would only be one bed in the room. Owen’s bed would not be there, because Owen had never existed. Owen’s books would be gone, his college pennants, his fraternity mug, his desk and his graduation pictures.
Owen’s toothbrush would not hang on the rack in the bathroom. Owen’s old bicycle would no longer be in the basement. Chuck’s mother and father would have had only one son: Chuck.
The idea was staggering in its concept. It meant that all of Owen’s records, his school records, his employment records, everything automatically ceased to exist the moment Owen was killed. It meant that his mother and father, his friends, anyone who had ever been influenced by Owen, would automatically have a portion of their personalities changed — the portion Owen had influenced for good or for bad.
But Owen had existed. Chuck had grown up with his brother, had... had...
He shook his head, his mental confusion almost a physical thing.
“What’s the trouble, Chuck?” a gentle voice asked.
He turned almost frantically. “My... my brother,” he blurted.
Arthur was standing beside him, and a puzzled look crossed his face. “I didn’t know you had one,” he said. “Is something wrong?”
The shock slapped into Chuck with the force of a trip hammer. He opened his mouth, trying to shape words. “But... Owen — my brother — Owen. You know him — Owen.” He gripped Arthur’s arms and looked up into his face. “You know him!” he practically screamed.
Arthur’s face grew more puzzled. “Owen?” He shook his head helplessly. “No, Chuck, I’m sorry. I never met him.”
Chuck’s fingers tightened on Arthur’s arm. “Don’t kid me,” he said tightly. “Please don’t kid me, Arthur.”
Arthur’s eyes clouded. “You know I wouldn’t Chuck,” he said softly.
Chuck whirled rapidly and ran to the fire. “Pete!” he called. “Pete!”
The cook looked up, his green eyes widening. “What is it, Chuck?”
“I... I... want to talk to you. In private.”
Pete’s features hovered between a smile and a frown. “Why, sure.”
He left the fire, and they walked a few feet away from the doctors and Masterson.
“I want to ask you something about... about my brother,” Chuck said.
“Your brother?”
“Owen. My brother.”
Pete shrugged. “Why sure, Chuck, if you think I can help you. I don’t see how...”
“You do know him then?”
“Who?”
“My brother. Owen.”
“No,” Pete said, “I don’t. But if you think I can help, anyway, I’ll be glad to.”
“Pete!” Chuck shouted. “You saw him killed by the brontosaurs! You condemned Masterson as a murderer. You...”
Pete’s face expressed concern. “Chuck, are you... do you feel all right?”
“Pete, please. Tell me the truth. Tell me what you saw. Tell me what happened when the brontosaurs charged us.”
“Well,” Pete paused and ran his hand through his bright red hair. “You led us toward the rocks and then you saw that the animals were following us, so...”
“I led you toward the rocks? I did?”
“Why, yes. Then, when you saw the animals behind us, you ran for the truck and started herding them away from us. Just about that time, you saw Masterson in the jeep and you drove toward him. You got him out of the jeep just in time. Then you came back to camp. You were pretty sore. You wouldn’t talk to Masterson, and then you went out alone to look at the jeep.”
“With a shovel!” Chuck said, swallowing hard. “I Went out to bury...”
“No, Chuck. You didn’t have a shovel with you.”
“Pete, this is the truth? You’re not kidding me?”
“No, Chuck, I’m not kidding you. Why? Has something...?”