by David Boyle
Charlie slumped on his heels, blinking. “You… you mean it?”
Ron offered him the rifle. “Here, I’ll trade you.”
*****
Mark stepped across the gunnel and pinned the Grumman to the backer. “Sounds like all the pieces are there. But will it work?”
“My calculations indicate a seven in twelve probability of success.”
Mark got the tamper. “Not what I’d call terrific odds,” he said, tapping the latest puncture. “Especially with my luck.”
“Luck?”
“It’s when all the pieces fall into place for no other reason than being in the right place at the right time. A happenstance that some people count on more than others. Very emotional and not at all logical.”
“Then it is of no consequence,” Wheajo said, appraising the human’s efforts as he worked the hole flat.
Mark swiped his hand across the tear. “Yep, one more set and she’ll be ready for taping,” he said, massaging his side. “What comes after that?”
“To the extent possible, we must reestablish the original curvature.”
The kinks hadn’t affected the gunnels, but they weren’t trivial either. “I don’t know. You really want to take the chance?”
“The errcot is an electromagnetic extension of the vessel’s surface, and if improperly configured, the field lines can be distorted such that chasms are created.”
“I’ve been snowed enough in design meetings to know that RF is more magic than science, but I understand what you’re saying. Thing is, unless you have a way of conditioning aluminum, you and I both know that if you dick with it too much, it’ll fatigue. We try too hard getting these dents flat and we’ll end up worse off than we already are. I know we’ve got enough tape to—”
Pow!
Mark snapped around, the forest erupting with the shrieks of stampeding hadrosaurs. “That sounded like—” Pow, pow… Pow! Honks blared amid the crashing of trees. “The hell…?” he said, staring across the river.
Pow! Kablam! the firearms booming simultaneously.
Tony sprinted across the clearing. “What’s going on?” he panted, glimpsing dinosaurs fleeing across the meadow.
“I’m not sure,” Mark said, heading toward the only boat available. “But I am going to find out.”
“No one is to leave the island,” Wheajo said, his tone sanctioning no dissent.
Mark and Tony slowed to a stop. “The hell with that. With all the shots we just heard, especially the pistol? They’re in some kind of trouble.”
“Indeed. And you are defenseless.”
“You have to let us. Damn it, Wheajo, they’re our friends.”
“Both of whom disobeyed a direct order, and I will not permit you, or anyone to follow their example. Is that clear?”
Mark stood scowling; Tony uncertain whose allegiance to follow. “Who had the binoculars last?”
“I think Ron.” They hurried into camp, Tony doing a quick search of Ron’s tent. “Got it,” he said, case in hand. “What do we do now?”
Mark nudged him toward the woods. “We see if we can spot them.” The pathway he’d started was becoming more distinct with every trek into the forest, their journeys through the woods now both faster and less encumbered.
“There,” Mark said, glimpsing red across the river and angling into the trees. “Watch your eyes, Tony.”
They piled through the ferns and into the willows screening the bank, clawing away the limbs they could break and either skirting or shoving the stockier ones out of the way, the last of the honks fading and the parasaurs likely miles away by the time they cleared an opening along the bank. Mark settled with his back against a tree.
Tony went to his knees, his eyes sweeping the forest. “I probably shouldn’t ask. But it is safe here, right?”
Mark dialed in on the trees. “I suppose.”
Hayden came hustling through the willows, his hair still dripping. “See anything?” he asked, slumping to his knees.
“Yeah, lots of trees. And as thick as this is, over there it’s even thicker.” The river was down a good six inches, the water noticeably clearer than yesterday.
“Wheajo said ‘no’ to taking the boat out, and after last night I wasn’t going to press it. I spotted Mike by the trail, so I thought I’d try looking along here. You guys weren’t easy to find.”
“Sorry. I didn’t think about it. Too pissed off I guess. The son-of-a-bitch stopped us too.”
“I know you’re angry. And I’m worried about them too. But like Wheajo said, they shouldn’t have left the island.”
Mark let down the binoculars, and he and Hayden stared. “You agree that it’s better for us to be sitting here as opposed to helping?”
“I’m not here to justify his actions,” Tony said, not the least reticent about returning their stares. “But you need to look at this from Wheajo’s perspective, who in case you’ve forgotten we kidnapped. He didn’t ask to be here, and he hasn’t complained about it either. In fact, he’s done nothing but try to help. Which is a lot more than I can say for McClure.
“And yes, he’s taken control. But can you blame him?”
“Come on, Tony….”
“Don’t give me that, Mark. Show me one time, just one, when Wheajo hasn’t thought about our well-being.”
“You sure you’re not confusing that with self-preservation?” Hayden scoffed. “The guy’s got ice in his veins, Delgado. It takes empathy to be worried about someone else’s well-being. And he doesn’t have any. And while I’m willing to admit he had good reason not to shoot the other day, this keeping us here is a whole different thing. It wouldn’t take us—”
“Would you listen to what you’re saying? This isn’t different, and saying so is nothing but an excuse. Ron tried that line, and you climbed all over him. Not that you were wrong, but now you’re doing the same thing. Wheajo is not the asshole here.”
Mark waited. “You going to finish that line?”
“No. I’ve said more than I wanted already. But you really need….” Tony straightened up, peering across the river. “Is that them?”
Ron was dragging something, stumbling backward through the trees, his shirt and pants covered in blood. “My God,” Tony gasped.
Mark and Hayden went to their feet, frantic. “McClure?! What the hell happened to…?”
Ron came around, and Charlie stepped beside him, their toothy grins visible all the way across the river. “Hi guys…!”
Ron and Charlie steered toward the landing, their spirited laughter carrying across the water. “Glad to see you’re enjoying yourselves,” Hayden said, waiting beside the stump below the landing while Mike splashed back and forth along the shallows.
“You guys had us going,” said Mark. “Hope you know that. And what happened back there? You look like you’ve been machine-gunned.”
Charlie extended his paddle, “We were… sort of,” he and Ron turning into the current. “Sprayed I mean. Guess you could say we got a little too close.” They coasted toward shore, an excited dinosaur waiting to greet them.
“Would you stop already?” said Hayden, fending the animal off before taking hold of the Discovery. “You can be a pain, you know that?”
Charlie threw a leg out. “Yeah yeah… I missed you too,” he said, scratching the dinosaur’s beautifully feathered head.
Ron wedged his paddle alongside the enormous pile of meat. “And that is not how it went. We didn’t get too close; he did.” He rocked his shoulders. “Still gets me how fast these bastards are.” Meat was piled lengthwise along a yards wide piece of patterned skin. As flexible as it looked, it actually wasn’t.
“I’ve seen conveyor belts that weren’t this thick,” said Hayden. “How big was this thing?”
“What’d we say? Three?”
“You said three. I’m thinkin’ closer to four.”
“Okay, so call it four. And we’re talking tons here.
“That thing that wanted you for lun
ch yesterday, Bennett? Peanuts, man. I mean like tiny in comparison. Jesus, you should see it. Got that big flap of skin hanging from that… I guess you’d call it a horn. Really something close up. What’d you call them?”
“Parasaurolophus. Though parasaur would be easier to remember.”
“Parasaur. Yeah, that I can handle. Anyway, the thing looks like a fucking mountain in there. Actually had to climb the thing to get up on its belly. I mean really, when’s the last time you had to climb a dead animal? Pretty too. Got that bell thing hanging….” Ron bit down, squinting. “You were supposed to remind me, Bull. I wanted to bring that back.”
“Oh no. You ain’t blamin’ that on me. I told you to throw it on the pile.”
“Guys,” Tony said, standing atop the landing and clicking the shutter when they all turned. “I didn’t want to miss such a… what’s a nice way of putting this? Colorful shot.”
Hayden hefted a slab of meat. “So what’s that make? Three?”
“Three what? You mean dinosaurs?” Ron shook his head. “No, just two. This one’s Charlie’s.”
“You’re not serious,” Mark snickered. “You’re telling us you killed a bull parasaur with that pop gun?”
Charlie patted the holster. “With this? Hell no. We switched.”
Something wasn’t adding up. “You mean that was you banging away?”
“Don’t go sounding so surprised, Bennett. The bastard came out of nowhere. One second we’re looking one way, and the next the whole forest is flying apart! You should have seen it. I thought trees were stronger than that.
“Learned something else too.”
“Which is?”
“It’s not a good idea to rapid-fire a 44 Mag.”
Mark chuckled. “Hurt the hand some?”
Ron flexed his fingers. “You could say that.”
“And you fired… how many times?” Hayden asked of Charlie.
Charlie tapped Mike on the snout when the dinosaur got too good a grip on his sleeve. “No, leave that alone,” he scolded, then turned to Hayden. “Sorry about that. Oh, and just once.”
“Really?” said Mark, dubious as ever. “I'll give you the rifle has more punch than that stupid pistol. But drop him with one shot?”
“I ain't sayin' I dropped 'im. He just didn't go very far.”
“And don’t forget,” Ron said, unhooking the bungee cords, “fatso here did have five slugs in him at the time.”
“I’m happy for you, Charlie,” Tony said from atop the landing. “Nice to think Ron finally has some competition.” Tony flinched when he caught Wheajo standing beside him. “Would you please not do that?”
Ron smacked Charlie’s shoulder. “You should have seen the look on his face when—”
“Enough,” Wheajo said. “There are many tasks to be performed. If you must, you may continue your conversation while you work.”
“Gimme a break. Time can’t possibly be that much of an issue that we can’t talk about this now.”
“Time is an issue. And I grow weary of your inability to perceive the precarious nature of our situation. I gave specific instructions that no one was to leave the island. Not only did you disobey that order, but in doing so placed yourselves at considerable risk.”
“Go fuck yourself. What are you, my mother?”
“McClure, that’s uncalled for,” Tony shot back. “Listen for a change, will you?”
“Our success,” the alien continued, “depends critically on the retention of what few resources we possess. Had either of you been injured, or your weapons disabled, our chances of leaving this world might well have been diminished.
“I fail to understand how your species ever managed to progress to the limited technological capability it possesses when its members operate so illogically.”
“I realize you weren’t here,” Tony said, “but Wheajo has a plan to get us out of here. Not that you’d be interested. To hear you talk, I get the feeling you don’t want to leave this place. It’s as if this is your private preserve and you’re some kind of great white hunter.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Delgado.”
“Maybe not. But let me say this: I do want to go home. To Lorraine and my kids. And yes, back to civilization, which you seem so able to do without. You want to stay here McClure? Fine. Then stay. And die here for all I care. But don’t expect us, or at least me, to die here with you.”
“That’s a crock,” Ron said, feeling if not actually seeing the nods. “That’s not how it is guys. Really, it’s not.” Standing there, studying their faces, Ron searched in vain for the support that seemed suddenly to have vanished.
“Charlie, Hayden,” Tony said. “Why don’t you start bringing that meat up? Looks like we have a whole lot of smoking to do.”
25
It was half an hour later, and fresh dinosaur was piled on the overturned Tripper waiting to be processed when Tony caught Mark on his way into the woods. “Make sure it’s not too dry,” he called out.
“I remember,” Mark said, hiking the ax over his shoulder. “The green stuff.”
“Right, the green stuff.” Tony turned again to Hayden. “Where was I?”
“You were bitching about McClure.”
“I wasn’t bitching. And you know exactly what I mean.” Tony slapped the latest piece down and went back to slicing. “His attitude stinks. And I meant what I said about him wanting to stay here.”
“Maybe,” Hayden said, for a moment watching Wheajo, who seemed to be measuring the smoker. “But only to a point.”
“And what point is that? Didn’t you see his eyes? He likes it here.”
“For what it’s worth, yeah. But there’s more to it than that. Lots more.
“McClure’s father—I think his name was Frank—died when Ron was maybe twenty. They went hunting together, camping, fishing. They did everything together. The few times we ever talked about his old man made me realize that Ron pretty much idolized the guy. He never told me why he died, but I do know that Ron was forced to drop out of school. And from that time on he’s made it on his own. He never finished school—college that is—but he didn’t let that stop him. He worked his way up at S&M, and who knows how far he would have gone? He left only because he couldn’t put up with all the bullshit that Mark and I do.
“What’s important is that Ron hasn’t had to deal with people telling him what to do. And now along comes Wheajo. And he resents it. You have to admit that Wheajo’s approach to life isn’t what you’d call smooth.”
“That’s no excuse for the way he’s been acting.”
“Probably not. But climbing all over him isn’t going to help the situation.
“Here’s a couple of points, and then I’ll drop this. First, you mentioned how excited Ron gets when it comes to hunting. Try watching Mark and Bull when they get going. I won’t pretend to understand their fascination, but as far as hunting is concerned, the three of them are like peas in a pod. Hunting is in their blood.
“And you mentioned Ron’s eyes. You happen to notice Charlie’s? The guy I first met all those years ago is back, Tony. He’s alive again, and from my perspective, Ron is a big part of that.”
Tony laid a strip on the pile. “Maybe if I had known….”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. McClure’s got pretty thick skin. Just try to cut him a teeny bit more slack, okay?’ Hayden smiled. “He doesn’t have a hidden agenda. Believe me, Ron wants out as much as we do.” Wheajo was coming through the trees. “You okay here? I want to see what our friend is up to.”
“Sure… sure, go ahead. I need time to think anyway.”
“Something wrong with the smoker?” Hayden asked, helping Wheajo with the load of fronds he was carrying.
“Wrong?” the alien asked. “No, the smoker, as you describe it, functions as well as can be expected. I do believe I can improve it however. In its present configuration it not only consumes more fuel than is needed, but takes more time than necessary to effe
ct full cure of the meat.
“I have performed some minor calculations….”
Hayden smiled, and for the next twenty minutes listened and helped while Wheajo explained the thermodynamics of curing dinosaur meat in a smoker made of cut timber and fern fronds! The walls of the framework were reinforced, and openings made along the bottom, as Wheajo explained, “to reduce specific fuel consumption and increase convection within the structure.” Lastly, and once the modifications were complete, Wheajo demonstrated how to size and shape the meat strips. “Geometry is a crucial factor in optimizing the rate of moisture extraction.”
Hot coals were carried from the campfire and loaded into the resized and reshaped pit, after which a portion of Mark’s newly acquired green wood was chipped and sprinkled over the coals. Rods draped with meat were then loaded inside, and the new front cover pinned securely in place.
“Wheajo, I don’t know what we’d do without you,” Hayden said finally. “Without a doubt we now have the most fuel efficient dinosaur smoker on the planet!”
Tony was busy preparing the biggest steaks ever seen by man when Charlie and Ron walked into camp, the former with clean head-to-toe cammies, the latter attired in jeans and a T-shirt. Their previously bloodied clothes were shortly hanging on the clothes line, after which Ron headed directly for Wheajo.
“I don’t know what this plan of yours is all about, but me and Charlie want to help. What can we do?”
“The major tasks,” Wheajo said, after a startled second’s delay, “are to complete the path and the cúpaqs, as well as refurbish the canoe. Its original shape must be restored.”
“Okay. Which do you want first?”
“I can answer that one,” Tony said by the fire. “We’re going to be eating soon, so why don’t you work on the canoe?”
