by David Boyle
Charlie locked the closure. “I got to thinkin’ about all the stuff we’re gonna be takin’ back, and I realized there wouldn’t be room left for Mike. Then I thought about the lake and remembered—”
“Hold that thought,” Hayden said. “You’re not thinking about bringing him home, are you?”
Charlie grew serious. “You got a problem with that?”
“Come on, Charlie, get real. Him in the boat, and how far we have to go? I know how much he means to you, but we can’t just—”
“Youdon’t know, Bennett. And yeah, we can.
“You guys were jokin’ when he first got here, callin’ him our watch dinosaur. Well guess the fuck what? He’s been doing just that. He’s warned us damn near every time Sabrefang has come anywhere near us. And I saw him go after her, and I swear to God it was him who bought McClure time to get to the safe tree. And I ain’t takin’ away from the help you gave me, but it was Mike who was there when my leg was killing me. The second time for days after. So don’t even think about leavin’ him behind. Mike goes where I go, and we’re both gonna be on the river come sun up.”
“You make a good case,” Hayden said. “But we’ve got, I mean miles to paddle, and every inch against the current. You have any idea how much dragging a raft would slow us down?”
“I knew this was gonna happen.” Charlie settled in beside the fire. “Okay, so neither of you guys want to bring Mike home.”
“It’s not that we don’t want to, Charlie, it’s—”
“You gonna let me finish?”
“Sorry, Bull. You’re right,” Hayden said. “You talk, we’ll listen.”
“Okay, so not only was I thinkin’ about bringin’ Mike home, I got to wonderin’ about what people are gonna think when we get there. And the questions they’re gonna ask. Five of us left, and three of us are comin’ back. My guess is, right after the ‘Hi!’ and ‘How are yas?’ are gonna be questions like ‘Where’s Delgado and McClure?’ and ‘What did you do with their bodies?’ Two of our friends are dead guys. Dead. And the folks back home are gonna want answers.
“And if that don’t scare ya, think about the story we’re gonna tell. People see me, and the scars on your shoulder, maybe they’ll believe us when we tell ‘em what happened. But two guys dead outta five? Think about the cops you’ve met, and what they’re gonna do when they hear our story. Maybe you’ve been luckier than me, but the ones I’ve met are gonna laugh in our fucking faces.” Both Mark and Hayden were squirming. “Good or bad, the cops are gonna dig through every fuckin’ stupid ass thing we ever did. They’re gonna search and dig and pull up crap, even if it’s got nothin’ to do with anything ‘til they figure a way to make it look like it was us who killed ‘em….
“But if we bring Mike home, who can’t believe us?”
Mike was clearly more than a scientific bonanza. The dinosaur was a living insurance policy, unassailable proof that they’d actually lived the story they were about to tell, evidence that would weigh heavily in their favor when Ron and Tony’s deaths were investigated.
“Charlie, you amaze me,” Mark said, his eyes opened to the complexities of their soon-to-be situation. “Sometimes you make perfect fucking sense.”
Hayden swallowed the lump in throat. “Amen to that!”
The guy was fighting to keep his eyes open. “We use that plan of yours, you’re going to need to be sharp. So stop with the bitching and get in there.”
“I’m going already, okay? Just not for too long.”
Charlie perked up. “What plan are you talking about?”
“Let me get rid of him first,” Hayden said. “How’s an hour sound?”
Mark stopped just inside the tent. “That’ll work,” he yawned, peeling his shoes off while Mike investigated. “Yeah, yeah, we’re not going to leave you. And no, you can’t come in.” He shooed the dinosaur out the door— “Go away already!”—and zipped the door closed.
Hayden sketched out Mark’s proposal, which Charlie reacted to about as expected until he filled in the details.
“So long as you’re not lookin’ for anything fancy, makin’ the mannequins shouldn’t be any big deal. The bitchy part’ll be gettin’ the Discovery down.”
“Yeah, we thought about paddling, but that’s before what’s-her-face showed up. Won’t be easy, but there’s just no other way other than dragging.”
“And we’re gonna do that in the dark?”
“Yeah, and with the number of trips we need to make, plus all the paddling, if we don’t get moving soon it could be really late before we get to where we started. And as tricky as it sounds, with this moon it’s nowhere near as dark as you think once you get away from the fire. And we still got our flashlights, though I’m thinking we won’t need them.”
“You say so. Me, I’d wait for daylight.
“And you’re looking to build up the fire why?”
“I’m not sure I go along with this,” Hayden said. “But Mark thinks Sabrefang has gotten to associating fire with people on account the smoker was going when she made it to camp. Part of which comes from what we told him about how the duckbills came snooping that night on the lake.”
“The Night of the Flyin’ Torches. Yeah, that’s one I won’t forget.”
“His point, I think, is that animals here aren’t necessarily frightened by fire. Whether that’s true or not, having a fire going can’t hurt.”
“You guys spent some time thinkin’ about this, huh?”
“Mark had it roughed out, and together we touched it up a bit. We missed the thing with Mike—good catch by the way—but by needing to put the raft back together, we also open the possibility of taking stuff we might not have otherwise. You given thought to what goes on top?”
“Most of it. I’m thinkin’ a frame with four or five pieces goin’ the long way, and a bunch of smaller ones runnin’ side to side, with the center one goin’ through the oar locks to keep it from slidin’ around. Shouldn’t take that long to put together. The hard part’s gonna be findin’ the right pieces.”
“I’ve got nothing better to do, Charlie. If you’re ready, so am I.”
“Okay… sure. So long as you got the lantern juiced up, I guess we can go.”
Hayden headed for the woodpile. “Give us a chance to rebuild the stack while we’re at it. You going to be alright in the woods?”
“With the crutch you mean?” Charlie shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out.
“Any ideas where we find a bunch of trees like… I don’t know, a couple inches at most in diameter?”
Hayden checked the blade on the axe. “Closest should be along the swamp. We get lucky, maybe we can find some where it’s not too thick. How many do you need?”
The first trip brought Hayden up to speed on the size of the timbers needed, and made Charlie realize he’d be far more useful trimming and finishing than cutting down. The next run went more smoothly, with Hayden completing an in and out in under half an hour, Charlie busy trimming a frame member to length when he dragged the second batch into camp.
“Those are good,” Charlie said. “Only next time don’t trim the tops so short. So long as the smallest part is an inch or more in diameter, anything four feet and longer I can use for fillers.”
“Got it,” Hayden said, and started away.
“And before you go, you happen to know where Bennett keeps that monster knife of his? The one with the teeth?”
“His scuba knife?” Charlie nodded. “I think so,” Hayden said. “Let me see if I can sneak it out of there without waking him.”
“Are you kidding me?” Mark grumbled from his tent. “A dead man would be lucky to get any sleep with the racket you guys are making.”
“Okay, so that takes care of the knife,” said Hayden, that chore forgotten. “I got one laying, and I’m pretty sure I know where there’s another one. The after that… could take a while.”
“Don’t bust a nut lookin’. You bring back three, great,” said Charlie. “You
don’t, I’ll make do with what we got.”
Mark was getting his eyes to work, minutes later, when he stepped from his tent.
“I got the impression you weren’t actually sleepin’.”
“I mostly wasn’t,” Mark yawned, waving the plastic sheath with his knife. “Did remember this though. There any coffee left?”
“If we do, you guys have been hidin’ it on me. That thing still sharp?”
“It’s stainless, Charlie, and I never let it get close to anything that can ding the blade. Show me what all you’re up to and maybe I can help.”
Charlie laid out his idea for the platform and how he planned to mount it to the raft. With the glue possibly still drying, he was holding off inflating the thing and had been cutting the poles long. “The thick ones go side to side, and the thinner ones lengthwise so the raft will be more flexible front to back. Once they’re split, the short ones go on the bottom facin’ up, and the long across the top facin’ down. Get ‘em welded, there shouldn’t be nothin’ but round surfaces touchin’ rubber.”
“You looking for four lengthwise, or five?”
“Depends on how many Hayden brings back. Split these two, and we’re already covered for the four configuration. These other ones… I’m not sure. Use one where it don’t belong and it could be more trouble than it’s worth.”
“That we’ll know once they’re split. You still have the tongs, yes?”
“After the shit we went through figurin’ how to drill the damn holes? You bet. That, I keep in my tent.”
The poles were green and the wood relatively soft, which forced Mark to scrounge through the woodpile to find a chunk hard enough to use for a club. He found a branch that would work, then used it to hammer his scuba knife along the length of one of the shorter pieces Charlie had prepared earlier. “How close to even do I need to get?” he said, hoping he'd know what he was doing by the time he got to the eight-footers.
“Side to side, not very,” Charlie said. “So long as they’re even thickness-wise, we can shift the halves around and put them where we want. The thing to watch is twist. Once we get to usin’ the yaltok, I’m thinkin’ we’re gonna want to keep the torque at the joints down.”
“To keep the joints from snapping once we’re on the water.”
“Accordin’ to Wheajo, the bonds should be almost as strong as the wood itself. Which is probably true, seein’ how the chairs and table are holdin’ up. Still….”
“I’ll try to keep it to a minimum,” Mark said, hammering the knife along the pole, this one nearly three inches in diameter at the base. A flashlight beam appeared in the woods beyond the landing. “How many are you having him get?”
“This’ll be it,” Charlie said, tossing a scrap in the fire. “If we can’t build a frame outta all this, and whatever Hayden has, we need to turn in our union cards.”
Mark chuckled. “Good one, Bull. But you’re right. We either knock the weight down, and by a lot, or we could be in trouble trying to carry it the length of the island.”
Hayden tramped across the clearing. “This is it,” he panted, and dropped the latest of the skinny trees. “There might be more like this back there, but I’m plumb tuckered out.”
“That’s a relief,” Mark said, hammering away. “I’d hate to think you look like that normally.”
Hayden flipped him the bird. Charlie reached over, and he and Mark slapped a side-five. “Take a breather. My stuff is packed, and once Mark quits dickin’ around with the last poles, it shouldn’t take us long to weld all this together. After that, all we’ll have left is the drag.”
“First off,” Hayden said, “there’s no all when you talk the drag coming up. Second, we need to make some hangers before we leave.”
“We’ll get to them later,” Mark said. “Right now, this glue needs to be done curing cause it’s time to do the fitting.”
They worked at inflating the raft, the three taking turns until whoever was doing the blowing was ready to pass out, then letting the next guy take over. The raft was cleaned in a band encompassing the patch, the patch then wrapped with three overlapping turns of duct tape. The locking pole was trimmed and the ends whittled to fit the oar locks bonded midway along the top of the raft. Seven short pieces were next spaced along the length of the raft, three above and three below the center piece, split sides up, then five of the longer pieces spaced evenly down the length of the raft, split sides down.
“If we’re gonna be dancing, we need all five,” Mark said critically. “But if what we’re looking for is a reasonably rigid place to sit, four is fucking plenty.”
“It’s you who’s gonna be ridin’ the thing. You think four’s enough? Then four it is.”
They rearranged the pieces, then scribed the crossovers once the placements were fixed. The split sides were evened up, and the crossovers shaved to remove as many irregularities as possible. It was a job that needed to be only so good.
“Quit already, Bennett. The stuff is so new it doesn’t know it’s dead yet. We clamp ‘em, and hit ‘em with the yaltok, they’re gonna bond perfect. You keep goin’ like you are and it’ll be light out and we still won’t be outta here.”
“I’m just making sure they’ll fit together right.”
“You got ‘em all?”
“You want me to say yes? Then yes, the crossovers are good to go.”
Charlie got the yaltok and tapped in the commands. “Then wind ‘em up and we can get started.”
Mark wrapped the three outer corners with a painter to lock the shape, then got the big wooden tongs and pinched the last corner together. “They’re as square as they need to be, Bull. Bond away.”
Charlie hit the joint with a five second pulse from the yaltok, Mark holding for another five before releasing the tongs. They verified the bond, looking and tugging. “Amazing how that works,” Mark said, and stepped around the raft to untie the painter.
“So,” Charlie snickered. “Was it smooth enough?”
Mark clamped on with the tongs. “Just fire the thing up so we can get done.”
Hayden waited while Mark repositioned the dump bag on the platform. “How much longer before you guys are finished? Pretty soon, and we’re going to need to get moving.”
“A couple of tweaks,” Mark said, settling onto the dump bag and checking where his feet ended up. “Two or three more right about here should do it.”
“Okay, I got some that should fit.” Charlie frowned. “You’re not thinkin’ about weldin’ ‘em, are ya?”
“Not unless I have to…. Prentler, you got any of that twine left?”
Hayden was sorting his things in Ron’s tent. “Yeah, it’s in here somewhere. You need it right away?”
“If you would,” Mark said. “Okay, so that problem is solved. We can just tie them down. All I’m looking for is to fill this gap and not have any of it sliding around.”
“I can take care of that.” Charlie slapped the dump bag. “And unless all of what you’re takin’ is already in here, you still need to pack.”
Mark stepped off. “Most of it’s there. But yeah, I do have a jacket I should take. And my boots,” he said, unhooking the bungee cords. “You packed light I hope.”
“With only one canoe? Hell yeah,” Charlie said. “Packed some warm stuff, and a couple of things with good memories. The rest is stayin’.”
Mark hauled his dry bag over and tossed it in his tent. “Find that yarn?”
“Not yet,” said Hayden, “but I know it’s in here.”
“And same question. You’re keeping the shit you’re taking back to a minimum, right?”
“You said one bag, and that’s all I’m taking. My day bag is small enough that I’m figuring it doesn’t count. And this is for Charlie, but what about Tony’s camera?” Hayden asked the wall.
“Hate to say this, but film yes, camera no,” Mark said. “And don’t forget the teeth we beat out of that bastard’s face. Hear all that, Bull?”
“Already g
ot that covered,” Charlie said. “How ‘bout the claws McClure took from that thing on the beach?”
“From the deinonychus! Gads yes! Can’t forget them. I can see damn near every paleontologist there is wanting to get their hands on those. Good one, Bull. Would definitely have been a dumb move leaving them here.”
“Found it!” Hayden stepped out and brought the bundled twine to Charlie. “That going to cover what you need?”
“Oh yeah. Easy,” Charlie said, and started unwinding. “And while we’re all talkin’, the story is that you and Wheajo made it back from the lake just fine. That he was here and helpin’ us pack, and that when we got back he took the brizva and the yaltok home with him.”
“That’s the story,” Mark said, pouring through his clothes.
“Thing I’m wonderin’ is, are we there when Wheajo’s ship comes to get him?”
“You’re already going to be grilled when you mention you saw the ship from a distance,” Hayden said. “Do we really want to put ourselves in the position of having to describe what a Grotky ship looks like up close and personal?”
Charlie snugged the knot across the fillers. “Might not get asked that early on, but even I’d be wonderin’. Okay, so we were long gone….”
49
Ron squeezed the sleepiness from his eyes, snarls sounding above the bank. He slipped onto his seat, got his paddle, and eased the Tripper out from between the limbs of the deadfall. The moon was painting shadows down the bank, the scuffle still rambling through the trees when he nosed the canoe into the current and started paddling in earnest. Get to the other side and he’d be in a better position to see what was causing the ruckus.
He stroked into the current, his eyes still coming up to speed. There were fewer stars than normal, the moon a tepid orange on one side and white on the other as if it was somehow shedding its skin. The rustling had stopped, though he wasn’t sure if whatever it was had left or had simply stopped moving. There was nothing pressing, and he had no reason to take chances. Make it to the deadfall and maybe he’d stop, though now that he was up he’d likely keep going.
