Danger: Dinosaurs!

Chapter 10 Water to Cross

The camp was silent when they returned. Masterson and Gardel were seated on a low rock, their heads bent together as they spoke in low whispers. They stopped talking when Chuck appeared. Arthur and Denise were squatting by the fire, one of Denise’s long, blue-jeaned legs stretched out toward the warmth of the crackling flames.

When Arthur saw Chuck, he leaped to his feet and brought his rifle up, his eyes swinging to the two strangers.

“Relax, Arthur,” Chuck said easily. “They’re friends.” He led the two doctors to the fire and said, “Dr. Dumar and Dr. Perry, this is the rest of our party. The fellow behind the gun is Arthur.”

“Pleased to know you,” Arthur said. He extended his hand, and both doctors shook it in turn. “I was just about ready to come after you,” he said, turning to Chuck. “All that talk about cave men...”

“The doctors are far from cave men,” Chuck said, smiling. “Dr. Dumar is a geologist, and Dr. Perry is a paleontologist. They were doing some work in the area and couldn’t find the rendezvous site when it was time to return.”

Masterson walked over to the fire and extended his hand to Dr. Dumar. “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said. “I’m Dirk Masterson.” He paused and added, “I financed this little expedition.”

“Oh!” Dr. Dumar said. A frown started near his bald pate and moved down his forehead to curl his heavy black brows. Then he shook his head and said, “Forgive me. I must have had a mistaken impression.”

“About what?” Masterson asked.

“No, nothing. It is nothing. Forgive me.”

“I’m interested now,” Masterson said, his teeth flashing in an easy grin. His voice had lost all its bluster and was gently insistent now.

“Well,” Dr. Dumar said, “I was under the impression that private time slips were restricted to an area immediately surrounding the rendezvous site. I must have been mistaken.”

The smile flickered on Masterson’s face for an instant, seemed almost to extinguish. It came back stronger than ever, dazzling in its brilliance, and he said, “We had an accident. Our jeep crashed into the force field and shorted it”

Dr. Dumar nodded. “I see. But shouldn’t you have remained in the area of the ren...”

“This is my assistant, Brock Gardel,” Masterson said quickly.

Dr. Dumar smiled. “How do you do?”

Brock shook hands with the geologist and then turned to Dr. Perry. “You must have had a rough time, all alone back here. How long have you been lost?”

“About six months,” Dr. Perry said. His brown eyes studied Gardel as if he had discovered a new form of life for research.

“What brought you here in the first place?” Gardel asked.

Dr. Perry smiled. “The Time Slip, of course.”

For a moment Gardel’s face went blank with surprise. “Oh,” he said. “Oh! Heh heh. Of course. I mean...”

“Brock was just wondering if you are the two lost scientists the newspapers have been saying so much about lately,” Masterson interceded.

Dr. Perry shrugged. “We haven’t seen a newspaper since we left our own time, eight months ago. What have they been saying?”

Masterson shrugged. “Something about your coming back here to map out a large vein of uranium you discovered on a previous expedition.”

Dr. Perry’s eyes met Dr. Dumar’s for an instant. He nodded slowly, then said, “Yes, that’s correct. As far as I know, our reason for being here is no secret. Sometime last year Dr. Dumar and I stumbled onto a fantastically wealthy uranium deposit in the course of our roamings throughout Jurassic times. We reported this to the government, and they sent us back again to map out the area. That’s what we were doing when we lost our way.”

“I see,” Masterson said. “The government planned to do a little mining, then?”

“I imagine so,” Dr. Perry said. “That, too, is no secret. We need all the uranium we can get. Constructive atomic power has a long way to go yet. We can help it get there if we can supply the needed uranium.”

“Where is this huge deposit?” Masterson asked.

Dr. Perry smiled. “That, I’m afraid, is a secret.”

“Oh, really,” Masterson said, his eyebrow shooting up onto his forehead.

“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...?”

Chuck didn’t wait for the rest of the sentence. He went back to Arthur and asked, “Why’d you quit Masterson?”

Arthur shrugged. “I just had too much all of a sudden. When I saw how close he came to killing you both in that jeep, I figured I’d had enough.”

“And Owen... Owen—” Chuck shook his head, trying to clear it. He stumbled over to where Masterson sat with the two doctors.

“Mr. Masterson,” he said, “when you hired a guide for this expedition...”

“See here, Spencer,” Masterson said, “I hope you’re not going to start harping on that accident with the jeep again. We got out of it safe and sound.”

“When you hired a guide,” Chuck said slowly and evenly, “whom did you hire?”

“What? I don’t understand you.”

“Whom did you hire? Who was it?”

“Why, you, of course.” His brows pulled together into a deeply perplexed frown. “What’s the matter with you, Spencer?”

“Nothing. I... I...”

“I didn’t like the idea of such a young guide, but they said you knew the area well and — say, are you sure you’re all right?”

Chuck staggered away from the fire. It had happened already. Owen had been crossed out, eliminated, just as if he’d never existed. He understood now why the party had turned to him as leader. Their minds had already adjusted to the fact that there had never been an Owen. As far as they were concerned, Chuck had always been their guide. It was therefore logical that he should be the one to lead them back to the rendezvous site. Even their memories had adjusted themselves. The incident with the jeep had been nothing more than a very close call. No one had been killed because there had been no Owen as far as they knew.

Owen was gone. He had never been.

And everything around him had adjusted to his absence. Time had made its own repairs.

Chuck shook his head again. If they all... he didn’t understand. He simply didn’t understand. Why had they all forgotten there had ever been a person named Owen, when he still remembered? Was it that he had been closest to Owen, that Owen had had a stronger effect on the development of his personality, had contributed more to his memory? Was it just a matter of time then, until he, too, forgot all about Owen? Would he go on living as if he had never had a brother? Would his mind and his body and his memory eventually make the adjustment? And would it be the same with his parents? When he greeted them again in his own time, would they have completely forgotten Owen? Would a son and a brother be completely erased because of a sacrifice 100 million years in the past?

No! He didn’t want to forget Owen. Owen had existed.

Owen was his brother. He clung to those facts as he would cling to his sanity. He shook his head, trying to clear it. There were already things he could not remember about his dead brother. Had Owen’s bicycle been red or green? Surely, he should remember something as simple as that. He had seen the bicycle every day, behind the stairs in the basement. It was red, wasn’t it? No... no, it was green. He shook his head again. He didn’t know.

He wanted to cry. The tears gathered in his eyes and he fought to hold them back. He tried to remember what the name of Owen’s fraternity had been, but the Greek letters were blurred in his memory. Alpha Beta Tau? Why couldn’t he remember? Owen’s porcelain mug had rested on the corner of Owen’s desk for as long as Chuck could remember. Epsilon Delta Mu? His brows pulled together. No, not that. But what? What?

He was beginning to forget already. He bit his lip and felt the warm, salty blood flow into his mouth. He didn’t want to forget. He didn’t want to...

“Well, young man,” Dr. Perry said, “we’ve finished our lunch and we’re ready to move whenever you are.”

Chuck glanced up at the paleontologist. “What? Oh, yes, yes. Of course. I...”

“If you don’t mind, we’d like to go back to the cave for our instruments and some other things.”

“Not at all,” Chuck said.

“We’ll only be a few minutes.”

A few minutes, Chuck thought. It had taken only a few minutes for the brontosaurs to crush Owen into the earth.

And in those few minutes a lifetime had been lost.

They traveled until it was dark and then they slept for the night. In the morning they got an early start, anxious to find the rendezvous site.

The land was completely unfamiliar. Chuck remembered nothing about it. It was as if the party had been dropped in the center of the African wilds without a compass, without a map, without a guide. His mind wrestled with the problem. He knew that they could wander around forever, covering the same terrain over and again, without even knowing it. It all looked the same. The trees, the rocks, the animals — everything. It was like watching the same slide slipped in and out of the viewing screen of the same projector, over and over and over.

Beneath the pressing need for reaching the rendezvous site in time, another problem pulled and wrenched at Chuck’s mind.

He was forgetting more and more details about Owen’s life. He found himself wondering which college Owen had attended. He struggled with his memory for a full half-hour before he was forced to give it up as a bad venture. He tried to remember then what kind of automobile Owen had driven. He knew he had driven a car, and that was the maddening part. He had seen the car every day since Owen had bought it. He had helped his brother wax and polish it, had — in fact — learned to drive with it. He went through the names of every automobile he could think of and then gave up in despair.

It seemed impossible that Owen had been dead only since yesterday afternoon. It seemed even more incredible that they had been in Jurassic times for only three days. It felt more like three years.

But the three days gone meant they had only four days in which to find the site. That wasn’t much time. Four days were barely enough time to pronounce the names of some of the reptiles of the period, no less find a site that was as elusive as the fastest of the animals.

Chuck began to wonder if they would ever find it.

He confided this to Denise shortly before lunch that day.

“It’s like pushing through one of those mazes they give rats to play with,” he said. “The rendezvous site is the hunk of cheese at the end of the maze. But the maze is full of blind alleys and dead ends and false leads.” He shook his head. “I wonder how many rats every reach the cheese.”

“You don’t think we’ll make it, then?”

“I don’t know, Denise. I just don’t know. I don’t recognize a thing about the country. It all looks the same to me, every inch of it.”

Denise sighed heavily, pushing a strand of blonde hair oft her forehead. “Do you have any idea at all what you’re looking for?”

“Yes. A giant pair of white rocks poking up into the sky. When we spot those, I’ll know we’re somewhere near the site. Until then, we’ve just got to keep pushing ahead and hoping we’re going in the right direction.”

“Twin white rocks,” Denise murmured.

“And thank God they’re white,” Chuck said fervently. “Imagine how hard they’d be to find if they were green!”

Denise laughed, but there was a hollow ring to it.

It was midafternoon when Chuck spotted the lake.

“Arthur!” he called.

“What is it, Chuck?” Arthur answered, as he ran to him quickly.

“That lake. It looks familiar.”

“Yeah?” Arthur studied the shimmering surface of the distant lake. “It looks like all the other lakes we’ve seen,” he said.

“Let’s get closer to it. It rings a bell, somehow.”

They made their way down to the edge of the lake, struggling forward through thick growth that sometimes rose higher than their heads. It was slow, torturous labor. Every muscle of the body was called into play against the tenacious plants. It was impossible to relax for a moment. The land seemed to wage a grim battle against the trespassers, determined to let them know it did not approve of their intrusion. It took them the better part of the afternoon to reach the lake, and Pete started supper as soon as they found a good place to make camp.

“I think we’re getting closer,” Chuck said. “I think this is the lake we camped by the first day — right after our tussle with the stegosaurs.”

“I think you’re wrong, Spencer,” Masterson said.

“Why?”

“Because I think we’ve been traveling in the wrong direction ever since we met the doctors, that’s why.”

“That’s no reason. You’re saying, ‘I think you’re wrong because I think you’re wrong.’ Why do you think so?”

“Call it intuition,” Masterson said. “Or just plain sense of direction. I know we’re heading in the wrong direction, though. I think we ought to start back from where we met the doctors and take it from there.”

Chuck sighed and ran his fingers through his short hair.

“I don’t know. Maybe you’re right.”

He realized abruptly that he was talking to Masterson, talking to him in civil tones. The memory of Owen came back sharply and poignantly, and he felt immensely guilty over having forgotten him so completely. He turned away from Masterson and walked down to the water’s edge, staring across the lake.

Was that the way it would be? Would Owen keep fading out of his mind until even the memory was lost? Would he eventually forget that Masterson had caused his brother’s death? Could he ever forget that?

Could he ever forget something as big and as obvious as, for example, the two white rocks there across the lake? Would that be the pattern of events? The memory would grow dimmer and dimmer and then it would fade completely until only...

Two white rocks!

He started so suddenly that he almost fell into the lake. His eyes opened wide, and he stared across the lake in surprised fascination.

“The rocks!” he shouted, pointing wildly. “The twin rocks! There they are!”

He whirled rapidly and ran back to the party.

“The rocks! Across the lake there. We’re not far from the site now. Those rocks are right near it.”

“Are you sure?” Arthur asked.

“I’m positive,” Chuck said. “I’m positive!” He clapped Arthur on the back. “We’re going to make it, Arthur. We’re going to make it.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Denise squealed.

“What are we standing around for then?” Pete asked. “Let’s eat and turn in early so we can get an early start in the morning.”

Chuck looked at the rocks again and then his eyes scanned the surrounding countryside. He was remembering how long it had taken them to get down to the lake’s edge. If they tried to cut through the growth again, working their slow way around the entire lake, they might not reach the site in time.

“Geometry,” he said suddenly.

Gardel looked up, a frown on his face. “What?”

“Geometry. The shortest distance between two points — and in this case, the fastest. A straight line!”

Dr. Dumar looked at the lake and then asked, “You want to cross it?”

“Exactly! Let’s have some supper. Then we’ll start building a raft. As soon as that’s done, we’ll be going on the only recorded Jurassic boat ride.”

“It might work,” Arthur said. “It just might work.”

Chuck looked at the twin white pinnacles again and then murmured so that no one heard him, “It has to work.”