“I guess it was all that water I drank,” Denise said, laughing lightly. “You see, I prefer orange juice in the morning.”
“Of course,” Chuck said. “I understand completely.”
They both laughed loudly and then stopped short when they heard a loud, raucous voice begin a song.
“Oh no,” Chuck moaned. “He’s making up his own lyrics now!”
But this time, Chuck joined in the chorus.
They started out for the twin rocks after Chuck and Denise had eaten. Dr. Dumar kept running ahead like an eager cocker spaniel, picking up rocks wherever he found them, carrying a large instrument case in one hand and his specimens in the other.
Dr. Perry, on the other hand, stayed close to Chuck, pointing out the various flora and fauna of the period. On one occasion, when the flurry of wings overhead announced a visitor, Chuck looked up, fully expecting to see a pterosaur. He was surprised when he saw one of the most awkward-looking creatures he’d ever seen in his life.
The animal had distinctive bird features: a beak, feathered wings, and it was — of course — flying. But there the resemblance ended, for it also had a very long tail and the toothed jaws of a reptile.
“That, my friend,” Dr. Perry said, “is one of the first birds. His name is Archaeopteryx, the species macrura.”
Chuck shook his head slowly. “It doesn’t look very much like a bird. It looks more like... like... a flying squirrel or something.”
“No,” Dr. Perry said. “Most zoologists agree that Archaeopteryx was the first bird. It has birdlike feet and skull, feathered wings and tail, but reptilian teeth. Far removed from the modern bird, of course, but a bird nonetheless.”
Chuck looked up at the flying creature and blinked his eyes. “That tail...”
“As a matter of fact,” Dr. Perry interrupted, “the tail is possibly its most interesting characteristic. In modern birds, the tail proper is shortened to a rudiment ending in a large bone, with the feathers radiating from it to form a tail fan. But take a look at this customer.”
His finger pointed up at the bird, tracing its tail as it moved in awkward, flapping flight.
“His tail is as long as the rest of his vertebral column. It consists of twenty-one joints, with the tail feathers in pairs on each side.”
“What does it all mean?” Chuck asked.
“It’s significant only in that the tail fan of Archaeopteryx differs from that of modern birds in exactly the same manner that the tail fins of the earliest fishes differs from that of modern fishes.”
“Being vertebrated you mean?”
“Why yes, exactly.” Dr. Perry nodded his head appreciatively.
“What does Archaeopteryx mean?” Chuck asked.
“It means ‘primordial winged creature.’”
“And macrura?”
“That simply means ‘long-tailed.’”
“A long-tailed, primordial winged creature,” Chuck said. “That’s quite a mouthful. It’s easier to say Archaeopteryx.”
Dr. Perry smiled. “Yes, it is.” He paused and said, “Many zoologists felt that the reptilian characteristics dominated and that it should be called a birdlike reptile, rather than a reptilian bird. One thing is certain, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Birds evolved from reptiles.”
“Mmmm.”
“But they did not necessarily evolve from pterosaurs or flying reptiles.”
“I see,” Chuck said.
Dr. Perry smiled again. “You must forgive me for running on like this. I sometimes get carried away and forget that I’m not in front of a classroom giving a lecture.”
“I didn’t mind at all,” Chuck said honestly.
“You’re being much too tolerant. You probably know all this, anyway — being a guide, I mean.”
“A.. guide?”
“Why, yes. That is — well, yes, you are the guide for the expedition, aren’t you?”
“My brother...” Chuck cut himself short. There was no sense explaining it. No sense telling him how Noah had led the expedition until he’d met his death that day with the brontosaurs. Noah meant nothing to anyone but Chuck now. Noah...
A puzzled look crossed Chuck’s face. He struck a pensive posture, his face screwed up, his eyes clearly confused. Noah?
“Is anything wrong?” Dr. Perry asked.
Chuck shook his head rapidly. “No, nothing. Nothing at all.”
And yet... Noah. There was something about that name. Why, of course. The name wasn’t Noah! It was... was...
Sudden panic fluttered inside Chuck’s chest.
What was his brother’s name?
Not Noah, surely. Something similar, yes, but not Noah. Something like Aaron... or Orrin... No, no, that wasn’t it. But what? He felt an aching pain lash through his body, a pain that swept over his mind as he struggled with the memory, trying to dislodge it from its dark corner.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Dr. Perry asked again. “That time you spent in the water...”
“I’m all right,” Chuck said harshly. He bit down on his tongue then and said, “I’m sorry, Dr. Perry. I just... I...”
“You probably feel weak, owing to the time...”
“Owen!” Chuck shouted aloud, relief washing over his mind. “Owen!”
Dr. Perry stared at him curiously. “I don’t understand,” he said.
“Never mind, Dr. Perry,” Chuck answered. “But thanks a lot. Something you said reminded me of something I’d... something I’d almost...” He swallowed. The word was difficult to say. “... forgotten.”
But he hadn’t forgotten. He still remembered. Owen wasn’t even a memory to the others who had known him, but Chuck would never forget. Never, he promised himself. Never!
He set his lips firmly, his eyes on the white rocks in the distance.
The terrain got rougher as they moved along.
The twin rocks dangled before their eyes like a promised present. They didn’t seem to get any closer. The rocks stood on the horizon like two disdainful monarchs surveying their domain, a king and a queen with proud, cold bearing.
The plants were an army fighting for their monarchs. They threw themselves in the path of the invaders, erecting a wall of living, writhing greenness that held the line with remarkable tenacity. And the monarchs had strewn the path with booby traps; deep mud pits, sharp rocks, wide clefts in the earth, rock faults and slips, sliding talus.
The party waged a war against the country. Arthur was the forward guard, wielding the ax with a powerful arm that felled the foe. Pete was behind him with a meat cleaver, hacking at the tenacious plants. The rest of the party followed behind them, exhausted and ready to call it a day.
And over it all, constantly nagging, was Masterson. He whined interminably, telling them they’d taken the wrong path, that they’d struck out in the wrong direction after they met the lost scientists. Chuck tried to close his ears against the verbal barrage, trusting his memory of the rocks over the guesswork of Masterson.