Window In Time Read online

  The alien stared back, creases rippling the twin lobes of his forehead.

  “It was only a suggestion, McClure. And when you think about it, he’s probably right.” Hayden turned an apologetic eye to Wheajo. “We can learn a lot by watching.”

  “An opinion apparently not shared by your companion.”

  “He can say what he wants,” Mark said. “That doesn’t mean we agree with him.”

  Ron pointedly ignored them, his focus on the nearest bull as it browsed slowly toward the bank. For an animal weighing what had to be tons, the dinosaur moved with considerable grace, the body swinging beneath the big hip joints and balanced horizontally by the tail. The animal nosed down to sniff a bloom of flowers.

  “Gear down and locked,” Hayden quipped as the animal went to all fours. The fleshy lips went to work, the flowers fast disappearing when the bull suddenly rose upright and stared downriver. The nearby animals took immediate notice, but seconds passing before the entire herd was up and staring.

  They weren’t alone.

  “What’s down there, Prentler? You see anything?”

  Hayden stepped cautiously along the limb. “If there is, I can’t see it.”

  “Doesn’t make sense,” Ron said, turning. “Why so jumpy? I mean look at them. What can possibly mess with an animal that big?”

  “You don’t want to know,” Mark said, quick to catch McClure’s don’t-pull-my-leg look. “I’m serious. That fat-bellied bastard that charged us this morning? He’s nowhere near as big as some.”

  Ron still didn’t get it, or didn’t want to.

  Until now, Mark had tried very hard not to think about the dinosaurs they might encounter.

  He’d been interested in dinosaurs since he was six, his first book, a gift from his uncle Fred, being All About Dinosaurs, and through which he’d stumbled his way through over a period of months. Others followed, and over the years he’d maintained an ongoing, if not necessarily focused interest in the prehistoric beasts. A boyhood dream to see one alive, he had of late embraced the new and hotly debated notion that dinosaurs were warm-blooded, like mammals.

  Until now.

  Cold-blooded meant sluggish. Hot-blooded just the opposite. God how he hoped the theory was wrong.

  “Let me put it this way. Without this island I doubt we’d make it through the week. Around here are some very big and very nasty animals. And I’m not just talking about predators.

  “Days or weeks, we’ll run into them eventually,” Mark added, glancing at Wheajo, “and the only way we’re going to live to see the day after is to watch and learn as much as we can. We rely on what we think we know and we’ll end up like Charlie said: dead.”

  The corners of the alien’s mouth turned the Grotky equivalent of a smile.

  “Okay, so I don’t know shit about dinosaurs. And from what I’m hearing, neither do you.” Ron looked across the river to the dinosaurs. “So how about a little experiment? In the name of observation, of course.”

  Ron tipped the safety off, Hayden wide-eyed and turning an instant before the rifle roared, the boom reverberating along the river.

  “Damn it, McClure!”

  Heads shifted, but not a one of the animals ran. “What’s with you guys?” Ron shouted. “You all deaf?” The biggest of the duckbills took a step forward, Hayden with a hand to his ear and shaking his head as the animal trumpeted a warning: Haroooo! Harooooom!

  “Over here, dumbass! Yeah, I’m talking to you.” Others in the herd chorused in, honking, bobbing their heads. And as if on cue, the entire herd bolted across the field. “That’s more like it,” Ron said, delighted. “Look at those bastards go!” The animals were fast for how big they were, tails flagging, dust billowing as the herd stampeded uphill across the scrub and into the forest.

  “That hurt!” Hayden said, wincing. “You want to fuck around like that, do it without me. A little closer and I wouldn’t be able to hear at all.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry about the ears. But I’ve got the situation under control.”

  “Yet your remarks evidenced that the animals did not react as even you had anticipated.”

  “Shut your face, Wojo. What were they going to do? Swim the damn river?”

  “And what if they had?” Mark snapped. “It’s their turf, and for all we know this is where they come every night for dinner. Big as they were, I wouldn’t put it past them to be able to walk across. And then what? Burn through a clip to stop one? I didn’t see any gunshops along the river, and unless you packed a reloader we’re going to need every round you brought to protect ourselves and get food.”

  “It’s magazine fed, Bennett. And I’m a better shot than that.”

  “Is that right? Then how about telling me where you’d shoot the fucker? Deer that big would have brains the size of a basketball. But they’re not deer, they’re dinosaurs, and their brains are smaller than your fist and encased in bone two or three inches thick!” Mark shook as he stood glaring at Ron; Ron looking stymied, glaring back.

  “If I may?” Wheajo said. “Your conversation need not proceed further. Your ‘experiment’ was successful insofar as it demonstrated how these particular animals might react in future encounters. The statements made about the creature’s physiology are also well founded,” he said, addressing Mark. “What is needed is a specimen to answer the questions raised.”

  Ron’s look softened, the two soon nodding, if reluctantly.

  Hayden sighed. “Glad you guys can agree on something. And if it’s not too much to ask, how about we head back? We might still have time to eat before it’s too dark to see.”

  The rose was off the clouds to the east, the forest noticeably darker by the time they reached the pond. Cicadas buzzed in the trees, frogs croaked from various points around the swamp. Hayden stopped beside a break in the vegetation. “I’m going to see what I can do about picking up some frog legs.” Wheajo pulled up, then Mark. “Okay if I borrow your knife?”

  “I guess. So long as you’re careful.” It took Mark a few seconds to slip the sheath from his belt. “And what I told Ron goes same for that knife. That’s a gift from my sister, and it’s irreplaceable if you get my drift.”

  “Have I ever let you down before?”

  Mark smiled. “As a matter—”

  “I’m not gonna lose it. Promise.” Hayden turned and traipsed into the bushes. “Get the fire going if Tony hasn’t already. And let him know I’ll be bringing dinner.”

  Mark gave Wheajo a nudge. “Okay, let’s see how well you do getting us back.” Ron had apparently been holding back, and hurried alongside as soon as the alien moved into the lead.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said, and—”

  “Don’t bother, McClure. We’re all stressed out. I know I sure as hell am.” Mark glanced at Hayden before starting after Wheajo. “What would help is you taking it down a notch, and that includes when you talk to Wheajo.” He waved a hand. “We’re in a unique situation, and between you and me, one more dangerous than you can imagine. I’ve got my fingers crossed we’ll figure a way out of here, but we both know that’s not gonna happen unless our heads are on straight.” Wheajo hopped atop the first of many deadfalls crossing their path, and just as quickly disappeared. “I am surprised though. After all the trips we’ve been on I keep forgetting what an asshole you can be.”

  “I’ll work on it, is the best I can say. It’s just, I don’t know. The little prick just pisses me off.” Mark searched along the trunk until he located a crack wide enough to get a toehold and, once up, walked it back to the trail, Ron careful not to bang the rifle as he made his way both up and down. He draped the sling back over his shoulder. “Does suck when your warts show,” he said, fishing for a response. “Guess I should consider myself lucky that I got friends who can ignore them.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah. And to show you how much I appreciate it, tonight I’m buying.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Mark said, snapping a bra
nch out his way. “And just so you know… you’re still an asshole.”

  8

  The air smelled faintly of smoke, the poignant fragrance as welcoming as an old friend. Tony had a stick to the fire, a ramshackle pile of freshly cut limbs crackling merrily as Wheajo, Mark, and finally Ron strode from the forest. He glanced over. “Heard the shot,” he said, lighting up, puffing. “But that was a while ago, so I’m guessing you missed.”

  “It wasn’t a miss,” Ron said, opening the bolt and clearing the chamber. “I prefer to call it an introduction.”

  Tony put the cigarette to his lips. “Was quite a racket afterward,” he said, letting the smoke play through his nostrils. “Sounded like there was quite a bunch, whatever they were. How big were they, anyway?”

  Ron hooked the sling on a stub beside Charlie’s compound. “Had to be ten to twenty of them. Big bastards too. I mean big like you wouldn’t believe. That one near shore had to be damn near thirty feet long. And they’ve got this—how to describe it?—horn poking out the back of their heads. That you have to see. Got to be the goofiest looking animals ever.”

  “Okay, so they’re a little different.”

  Ron had to laugh. “A little?”

  “You need to recalibrate your brain is all,” Mark said. “I think it was the first time I was ever on campus. My buddy and I were checking the place out, and we stopped at the library. The Galvin something or other…. Anyway, I found a couple of books on dinosaur anatomy that had sketches of animals I hadn’t seen before, or since. Every book in the place is intended for research, and these were on animals found all over the planet. Talk about bizarre! Twisted up faces; plates and horns poking every which way; names as long as your arm. Thing is, some of them are alive here and now, possibly on the other side of that ridge. So while they might have had trumpets glued to the back of their heads, calling them goofy is like awarding a ten to the first Olympic class gymnast you’ve ever seen. You need to leave room at the top for the next guy or you’re gonna run out of superlatives real soon.”

  “Species can be radically divergent when separated by such an immense passage of time.”

  “And that goes double when they’re a whole different type than the ones you’re used to.” Mark frowned. “What happened to Charlie? I’m just realizing that he’s not out here chopping.”

  “He gave up not long after you left.” Tony knocked the ash lose. “Haven’t seen him since he closed up. I’m pretty sure he’s asleep.”

  “I didn’t give up. And I ain’t sleepin’ either!” Charlie groused from his tent. “I needed to give my arms a break. That’s okay, ain’t it?”

  “Yes, Charlie. And no need to sound so testy.” Tony sighed, then took a drag and looked to the forest. “I give up. Where is he this time?”

  “Your friend asked us to inform you that he will be bringing dinner.” Wheajo turned to Mark. “I believe he mentioned frogs.”

  “That he did. Mr. Prentler is nuts about frog legs.”

  Ron toed a stub into the fire. “You can leave out the frog part. Being a screwball comes natural no matter where he is.”

  “True enough. But aren’t you forgetting that time on the St. Croix when you tried breaking the branch near the landing right after changing shoes?” Mark looked to Wheajo. “Doesn’t that sound like something only a screwball would do to you?”

  “Gimme a break. From the top there was no way to tell the thing was rotten.” Ron reached to the pile and tossed a log on the fire. “And okay, that wasn’t too bright. But I didn’t roast my river shoes.”

  “Give you a break! That was totally different! It was Prentler who added the damn wood to the fire.”

  Ron tossed his hands up. “What kind of excuse is that? You were right there, Bennett!” The tent zipped open, Charlie storming out a fraction later.

  “I remember now. I got up to get a beer, for you too, probably, and by the time I got back—”

  “The hell are you guys doin’? We’re stranded in the middle of nowhere… there’s shit in the frickin’ woods that can chew our asses off… and here you guys are, sittin’ around the campfire and bull shittin’ like it’s the good ole days!”

  Ron’s entire expression changed. “What, you’d rather we sit around crying instead?”

  Charlie shot him an icy stare.

  “For god’s sakes, McClure.”

  “We’re stuck here, Tony. That’s a fact. But that doesn’t mean we should pull ourselves into a frickin’ ball and do what… sit and stare at each other quivering?” Growls carried faintly across the river.

  Charlie stared off. “That’s easy for you to say.”

  “Is that right?” Ron’s eyes narrowed, a questioning smile curling the corner of his mouth. “Spit it out, Bull. You got something to say? Just say it already.”

  “I got a family at home, McClure. They need me, and I need them. Who’s gonna be hurtin’ if you never make it back?”

  “That’s enough of this!” Tony flicked his cigarette into the fire. “Both of you. I understand the angst, but throwing darts at one another isn’t going to accomplish anything.”

  “Your friend was simply making an—”

  “You stay the fuck out of this!” Ron turned and glared across the fire, a murmur tripping briefly above the hiss. “However the hell you got up there, you need to get off that pedestal. You got a wife and kids, and that’s what makes you indispensable? I didn’t realize that family was part of the definition….”

  Mark had his hand up, his head cocked at an angle. “Didn’t you hear that? Sounded like Prentler.” Heads turned, eyes and ears searching the forest when Wheajo turned to Mark.

  “Your friend is in need of assistance.”

  Ron listened for a second, then hurried over and plucked the rifle from its recently minted hanger. “We’ll talk more later, but for now, this shit can wait. Bennett, come on… he’s your partner.”

  The sky was pale and the forest fast losing its color, the air increasingly musty when Ron spotted Hayden struggling at the edge of the pond. He hurried through the ferns, dodging the trees while trying to avoid the fallen branches, the others immediately on his heels.

  “Get down Prentler and I’ll blow the fucker’s head off!”

  Hayden came around, flinching, the rifle pointed in his direction. “What the…?” Mark crashed from the bushes, then quickly Charlie and Wheajo, the steely eye of the revolver already sweeping the pond. Hayden cringed like a puppy who’d missed the paper, the rifle going one way and the revolver the other, Ron and Charlie clearly trying to make sense of it all. “Sorry I yelled like that, but I wasn’t sure how far it was to camp. Fatso here isn’t cooperating, and I knew I needed help.”

  A flat head with muddied red and yellow spots lay mostly buried in the ooze. The sun had long since left the treetops, the forest still well enough lit that the blood was obvious.

  “We came busting over here for that?” Ron snorted. “You shithead. You damn near gave us all heart failure!”

  Charlie jammed the Ruger hard into the holster. “I don’t need this kind of crap. You know that, don’t cha?”

  “I said I’m sorry.” Hayden knuckled a muddy splatter from his face. “I am glad you made it out here. I can’t get the leverage I need, and this stuff is the next thing to glue.” He tugged on a stubby leg. “Can you reach the other one?”

  Charlie reached down, probing the mud, and grabbed hold of a foreleg. “Holy crap! Is this thing slimy or what?” Mark stepped aside gawking when they dragged the thing into the weeds.

  “That is the biggest salamander I have ever seen in my life.”

  Charlie squeezed the mud from his fingers, searching, then gave up and wiped his hands on his pants. “Thing’s gotta weigh twenty pounds!”

  “Talk about extreme prejudice. What’d you use on him, a battle axe?”

  “He wasn’t as fast as these other guys, and I guess I did hit him pretty hard.”

  “You got him good alright,” Mark said. �
��And what other ones?”

  Piled on a bed of fronds nearby were four oddly shaped versions of bullfrogs ranging from brown to olive drab; three with stripes, the other spotted. “Mucky as the water is, I thought it was another frog until I started pulling.”

  Tony grabbed two of the frogs, hefting one in each hand. “Even as hungry as we all are, these will easily cover dinner. You did good, Hayden. Looks like we eat fresh tonight.” Tony handed off to Mark, then got the other two, hints of mist showing across the pond when he and the others started for camp.

  “Hold on… what about Jumbo here?”

  Wheajo stepped clear of the bushes. “May I be of assistance?”

  “You bet. Here… grab an end.”

  They set up Charlie’s canoe and covered part of the bottom with fronds so Mark would have a place to butcher the amphibians. The skin and guts went in one pile and the pieces in another.

  “By the way,” Mark said when he’d finished, rinsing his knife. “Be sure you wash your hands. There’s a chance the slime could be poisonous.”

  A pot clanged by the fire. “You’re kiddin’, right?”

  “Not this time,” Mark said matter-of-factly. “There’s no way to tell for sure, but just in case… don’t lick your fingers.”

  Wheajo had been watching from a distance, and stepped discreetly forward. “It is possible to make such a determination.”

  “Really? How’s that?”

  “If permitted access to the yaltok, I can perform a chemical analysis to confirm or refute your suspicions.”

  “Right… your analyzer thing. Be great if you could give us a yes or no about the slime. And it’d give me a chance to see how it works.” Charlie was helping Tony get something or other ready. “Bull, where’d you pack the analyzer? Sounds like we can get a read on these guys after all.”

  Glad to hear good news for a change, Charlie hurried to his tent. He poked his head out a moment later and held up a hand. “This one, right?”