Whatever it was looking for was not being revealed. Whatever it was, it was better at concealment than the massive hunter was at hunting. Finally, it seemed to give up and it moved on, caring less about its noise and pushing aside trees as if they were long grass.
Andy stayed where he was, not moving a muscle. The mud he had coated himself with was layered on thick and was like axle grease; also, it was as uncomfortable as hell. But it kept the insects away and hid most of his weird and attractive mammal odors from the beasts. Most of them anyway.
He identified the creature as a member of the Carcharodontosaurus genus — probably a Siats meekerorum—that lived in this area just 100 million years before Andy’s home time. Though there were theropods that were larger and heavier, this monster was one of the most powerful, and certainly most ferocious.
Andy continued to watch the path it had taken, or rather just bulldozed through the jungle, while still not moving out of his concealment. He remembered being involved in debates about whether these massive carnivores were hunters or scavengers — but now he knew. He’d seen with his own eyes the massive thunder beasts running down huge prey, using their bulk to knock them off balance, and then their car-sized head craning forward and massive jaws gaping wide to rip out throats or crush neck vertebrae. They were hunters all right. And damned good at it.
Finally, a tiny speck in the gargantuan jungle moved — Andy — coming out from amongst a tangle of mangrove-like tree roots. He opened his pouch and looked in at the tiny bird-like reptile. For once, Gluck kept his beak tightly shut, perhaps catching the scent of the apex predator and knowing that discretion wasn’t just the better part of valor, but the only thing keeping them alive.
Andy took a few cautious steps, stopped, and just let his eyes move across his path. He was a speck in a land of giants, and he turned slowly, looking over his shoulder. He’d learned a lot in his years in this time period, and one of those things was that the massive many-ton predators had an ability to be wraiths when they were hunting. They could be as silent as ghosts; one minute you thought you were alone, and the next there was a 10-ton shadow only a few hundred feet behind you.
Andy couldn’t count the number of near misses he’d had. All my lives are used up, he thought and grinned, his teeth and eyes glowing white through the caked mud.
It took him another 20 minutes before he felt safe enough to resume his normal pace. He stopped to lift his head and sniff deeply. He still wasn’t close — there was no hint of salt in the air. And not the murky salts of mineral pools or sulfurous magma vents, but the clean smell of brine.
When he was growing up, the one eye-opening thing that grabbed his attention and thrust him on the path toward studying, and eventually becoming a paleontologist, was the fossil sites referred to as bone beds. These were places where the remains of many species of dinosaur were found, and in some cases all jumbled together.
The center of America had once been submerged when sea levels were hundreds of feet higher. In the hot and humid times of the Cretaceous, the ice caps melted and the ocean had intruded deep into the continent’s heart. It had split the mighty landmass down the middle, creating two.
Andy had arrived on the eastern landmass called Appalachia. And across a vast inland sea was the western landmass called Laramidia. As the millions of years passed, the sea level dropped, and eventually, the inland sea became a massive lake. It had landlocked thousands of species of prehistoric creatures — some sprat-sized, and some the biggest sea monsters of their time. They became monstrous goldfish in a sea-sized bowl.
Finally, when the inland sea dried completely, the stranded animals became piles of corpses, and then fossilized. It became a kill box for the creatures, but a bonanza for future fossil hunters.
Since arriving in this time, it had always been one of his goals to see arguably the most famous of all the bone beds. But of course, today, in this time period, it wasn’t a bone bed at all.
Andy sniffed again. Damnit, I still have far to go, and it has already taken me… He paused, having a thought, and reached into his bag, eliciting a gluck of annoyance from his little friend.
“Move aside, buddy.” He pulled out a length of slate, roughly 12 inches long by 3 wide and 2 deep. On it was hundreds upon hundreds of scratch marks — his calendar stone. And at the top, his name in all capitals: “Andy.” He’d carved it when he still had a knife, now long rusted away.
“Wow, guess who’s coming back soon?” He looked up, but had no chance of seeing the sky through the thick tree canopy. Perhaps up there in the sky was the familiar eyebrow streak of the comet and its tail as it began its approach to our world.
“So what.” He replaced the calendar stone. But then looked up again. Imagine what the plateau looks like when the displacement actually starts to occur? he wondered, and then cursed. Damn my curiosity, he thought.
Gotta see my interior seaway first, he whispered. There was one problem — what would be the United States in 100 million years’ time was currently two massive continents. The western one, Laramidia, was a land of low plains. But unfortunately, he had arrived on Appalachia, and the mighty backbone of the Appalachian Mountains was already a line of towering peaks.
They were first formed around 480 million years ago during the Ordovician Period, where the mighty fold in the Earth’s surface thrust up to be of equal height to the Alps. Since then, natural erosion had worn them down a little, but during the Cretaceous — now — they’d still be a formidable climb. All he needed to do was cross them.
Andy sucked in a deep breath and then exhaled long and slow, feeling the fatigue and years drag on his skinny frame. He peeked into his bag, and the small pterosaur lifted its head.
“We can do it, Andy. And we still got time,” it said.
He grinned and nodded. “Damn right we do.”
CHAPTER 15
Drake pulled up out in front of the small, flat building that was like an island in the middle of a large concrete sea of a carpark. Hanging on the facade was a huge oval pink sign with swirling calligraphy announcing the place as Mama’s Daughter’s Diner.
He switched off the engine, held onto the steering wheel, and craned forward, looking out through the windscreen at the small building.
Ben scoffed. “In here?”
“Oh yeah. Best comfort food in Texas,” Drake said without turning. “They’ll be waiting.”
“And these guys are available for hire, huh?” Ben didn’t look that optimistic anymore.
Drake grinned. “Sure; a few days in and out, plus throw in an extra two weeks for training and acclimatization, and all up I guess we only need to buy these guys for a month, maybe an extra week here and there.”
“What should I pay?” Ben asked. “You know them.”
“Too little, and they’ll tell you to hit the highway. Too much, and they’ll smell a rat.” He bobbed his head. “Nah, there’s no such thing as too much for these guys.”
“Yeah, well, we don’t have a lot of time to hold too many rounds of interviews. I’d prefer to offer top of scale than to haggle over pennies. Besides, since I inherited the estate, I’ve got more money than I can spend.” Ben sat back.
“That’s why you’re my best friend.” Drake chuckled. “But you’re right; they’re greedy, so a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow will get their attention.”