Z. Rex

by Steve Cole

  Mr. Adlar didn’t look back, striding onto the dark forecourt. “I’ve been kept a prisoner for so long.” He stared out over the cityscape. “To be free again . . .”

  “But just look at that.” Adam pointed to the floodlit ruins where the castle had been. It was as if the whole thing had been carelessly scrubbed from the skyline. Helicopters hovered like fireflies around the ruins that teemed still with the emergency services; the winking lights that crowned their vehicles were like tiny blue flashbulbs going off in the dark.

  Adam shook his head. “How can something so real vanish so quickly?”

  “The castle can be rebuilt,” Mr. Adlar murmured. “The importance of old buildings isn’t just in the stones. It’s in their story.”

  “What about Geneflow Solutions—their story? Planning and plotting in their secret bases all over the world. Hayden said so.” Adam turned hopefully to Zed. “Will you help us find them?”

  The huge dinosaur shook his head. “Your world. Not Zed’s.”

  “But if there are other dinosaurs, or even other clones of you,” Adam said, “you wouldn’t have to be alone.”

  Zed stared down at him, impassive.

  “T. rex wasn’t a pack animal,” Mr. Adlar noted. “He lived alone. And now he’s recuperated properly, he won’t have the same confusion in his head about me and you.”

  “Right. That’s . . . that’s good.” Adam nodded. “But where will you go, Zed?”

  “Alone,” Zed breathed.

  “After all that’s happened, I guess I can’t really blame you.” He pushed out a long breath, forced an awkward smile. “You’re your own dinosaur now.”

  The beast snorted softly. “Go, now. Time.”

  “I know you’ll find your way, wherever you’re going,” said Mr. Adlar with a stiff smile. “But I hope it’s a place where you’ll be left in peace.”

  “Adlar. . . .” Zed looked at Adam’s dad, his expression unreadable. “Go.”

  Mr. Adlar looked uncertainly at Adam.

  “It’s okay, Dad,” said Adam.

  His dad nodded and retired to a discreet distance, leaving Adam and Zed alone.

  “Well. . . .” Adam stared up at the figure that had dominated his every waking moment for so long, thinking back over their adventures. He wasn’t afraid anymore. Not of Zed.

  “We survived,” said Adam.

  Zed snorted. “Hard.”

  “That’s for sure,” Adam agreed. “There were times when we were that close to—”

  “Stay close.” Zed slowly reached out and pressed his hand to Adam’s forehead. “Here.”

  Adam didn’t flinch from the weight of the rough scales against his skin. Slowly, he laid his palm against the back of the huge claw. “See you again, Zed.”

  Zed tilted his head. “Again,” he said. The word lingered in the air for a few moments, like one last secret understood.

  Turning then, the Z. rex powered away in long, loping strides. Flicking open his wings, he launched himself into the night. Higher and higher he soared, until his dragonlike form was silhouetted against the moon—that same silver moon that had lighted his way all those millions of years in the past, still shining for him now.

  Adam looked down at the impression of scales in his palm. He wiped his eyes. Heard his dad come up behind him. “You okay, Ad?”

  “I’m good.” Adam watched the shadow on the moon grow smaller, shrinking to a speck. “But once Josephs and her Geneflow friends have been sorted out, I’ll be a whole lot better.”

  “The evidence here has been buried, but maybe in New Mexico . . .” Dad shrugged. “We’ll find someone who will listen. Someone who can help. But . . . how about a little rest and a good breakfast first?”

  Adam considered. “Sounds like a plan.” He grinned at his father. “Sounds like a definite plan. . . .”

  They set off together through the sleeping city, beneath the ancient stars and shadows of the night, as the dawn made ready to rise.