“Colonel, I’ll give if highest priority, but it will take at least several hours.”
Bill and Terry waited while Lieutenant Gillespie copied the disks and the files from the hard drive. When she returned them Bill asked her if she had ever heard of an ancient prophet called Zorastrus.
“I’ve heard of Zorro,” she said with a smile.
Bill thanked her and then led Terry through another door. At the end of a hall Bill turned into a room that was filled with computer parts and repair equipment. He exchanged a few words with the counter man and then led Terry to the back, past shelves filled with parts. In a small room filled with more bits and pieces of computers was an Asian man of about thirty, with thick black hair and rumpled clothes. His nose was six inches away from a computer screen. Several Styrofoam cups of old coffee surrounded him. Monitors, computers, and keyboards were lying everywhere. The beeps of a computer game filled the room.
“Phil, I need a favor.”
Phil punched the tab button with his little finger and the game froze on the screen.
“Official or unofficial?”
“An unofficial favor but official business.”
“Classified, top secret stuff?” Phil asked eagerly.
“Tip top secret. I shouldn’t even be showing it to you.”
“All right! Let me see.”
Bill handed him two boxes of disks and the hard drive. Phil soon had a screen full of icons.
“What gives? You promised me something secret. This isn’t even access protected. No challenge, no deal.”
“The challenge is figuring out what it all means. No one else has been able to figure it out.”
“No one?” Phil asked hopefully.
“Two CIA cryptographers got canned because they couldn’t figure it out,” Bill lied.
“Hot damn. I’m on it. What should I look for? A message? Diagrams? Plans?”
“I wouldn’t want to send you down the wrong path. I’ll check back with you. Call me if you get something.”
They started to leave, but then Bill turned back.
“Hey, Phil. You ever hear of Zorastrus?”
“Yeah, the prophet of Babylon,” Phil said without taking his eyes from the computer screen. “Pretty astute guy. Not as well known as Nostradamus. Probably because his career got cut short. Some of his short-sighted contemporaries thought he was a little too smart. They put him in a pit and stoned him.” Phil looked up at Bill and Terry with a serious face. “Does he have anything to do with what’s happened? He made some pretty scary predictions.”
“Don’t know, Phil. Honestly.”
As they left, Bill directed Terry to a phone so he could call his daughter, Carolyn, who was full of questions Terry couldn’t or wouldn’t answer, but otherwise she was fine. After assuring Carolyn he would call as soon as he found out about John, Terry caught up with Bill.
“You really think that Phil will turn up anything?”
“Terry, there’s two ways to pick a lock. One is to work through it systematically. Start with zero right, zero left, zero right, and then try zero right, zero left, one right. Eventually you will open that lock. Lieutenant Gillespie’s people will do it that way. Phil—well, he’s an unguided missile with an uncanny record of hitting targets, targets he wasn’t aiming for. He knew about Zorastrus, didn’t he?”
“So why is he fixing computers?”
“Partly by choice, but mostly because he’s the biggest blabbermouth in the service. He couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it, but in this case it doesn’t matter. Even God couldn’t cover this up.”
28. The Brood
The lost age of Man will be the great transfiguration and society, and the world, will never be the same, I can see no further ages, not because they will not come, but because the future is confused.
—The Prophecies of Melchi-Zedek
Warm Springs Indian Reservation, Oregon
PostQuilt: Monday, 6:50 A.M. PST
Colter was the first out of the RV in the morning, looking for a place to relieve himself. But as soon as he stepped out he started cussing. Sid and three of his friends were waiting under the RV and darted out when Colter stepped down, nearly making him wet his pants. Still cussing over the scare, he placed his bare foot in psittacosaurus droppings. Colter loosed another barrage of profanity while wiping his foot on the grass. When he finally got far enough away to urinate, Sid and friends ran around harassing him. Colter pissed at them as they ran by but missed them and sprinkled his foot by mistake. He cussed some more and began wiping his foot again. His cussing was so loud and long, the others were up when he got back. Colter intended to climb back into his sleeping bag, but someone had rolled it up while he was gone.
Dr. Coombs cooked bacon and eggs and sour dough biscuits while the others cleaned up the RV and prepared for the morning activities.
The morning was cool but comfortable, so they ate outside under the tarp. Sid and two other psittacosauri circled around the table, darting in and out, snatching up any scraps as soon as they hit the ground. The animals were becoming a nuisance, but the group, despite their better judgment, couldn’t help but feed the unusual little creatures. Partway through the meal Petra remembered Moose and took him some eggs and part of a biscuit.
After breakfast they started their study by examining the edge of the meadow. Dr. Piltcher had Colter dig down where the green meadow met the desert. The edge of the turf came up easily, and soon Dr. Piltcher was finger-combing his hair. Dr. Coombs spoke first.
“Everything is intact. There is not a root broken. And look along the edge here. There isn’t a broken blade of grass anywhere along the edge.”
“Yes, I see,” said Dr. Piltcher. “Somewhere a hundred million years in the past is a piece of turf that would match up perfectly with this edge. Very odd. I would have expected something violent. But this seems tender. Not a blade of grass torn or uprooted.”
“Yes,” Dr. Coombs agreed, “gentle but perhaps too gentle. Look at how easily the roots were exposed. They weren’t embedded in the soil. They need to take root again or these grasses will not survive, not to mention the bushes or trees,”
Petra had been listening silently, absorbing each word. Since she rarely broke into their discussions, they listened when she did.
“They won’t live anyway. This is tropical vegetation, or at least subtropical. This climate won’t even support a pine forest, let alone a jungle. These grasses are going to start drying up soon, and when the vegetation dies, so will Sid and his friends, and any other animals we might find in here.”
“She’s right,” Dr. Piltcher said. “We need to identify as many species as we can as quickly as possible. Once we know what we are dealing with we need to get help to relocate the plant and animal life.”
“What?” Colter cut in. “Moose is okay, we can’t seem to get him out, but if you’re thinking of carrying Sid and his friends along, think again. Did you smell that mess he made in the RV?”
Petra quickly stepped in to smooth things over.
“It may happen again. You know how badly Sid reacts when he feels trapped.”
“One way or another they will move,” Dr. Coombs said. “When the vegetation dries up they will start searching for another food source. This land barely supports the little livestock we’ve seen. When these animals start to move, they won’t survive long. If the local vegetation doesn’t kill them, the local ranchers will.”
“Well then,” Dr. Coombs said. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
They loaded day packs with lunch and water and then spread out along the lush clearing, walking through the knee-high grass. Sid and friends circled them, chasing ahead and then dropping behind and blending into the bright green of the grasses so quickly it was hard to spot them. Dr, Piltcher’s frustration grew with each fleeting glance of something disappearing into the grass, and he began whispering about setting snares and traps to get a better look at the fauna. They were near the taller
bushes when Colter dove into the grass again, wrestling with another animal.
“Colter, the last thing we need is another psittacosaurus,” Dr. Piltcher warned while he stomped through the turf.
“This one’s different … bigger. Hey, ow, ow, ow! You little bastard.”
“Don’t hurt it!” Petra shouted.
“I’m the one getting hurt. Now I’ve got you!”
Colter struggled to his feet with something wriggling violently in his arms. This time Colter stood holding an animal a foot longer than Sid. The animal had a large bony collar around its neck and a head that was a third of its body size. The parrotlike snout curved over the lower jaw, but the overhang was much less than Sid’s. The animal’s short, stocky legs were all the same size, clearly indicating a quadruped. Its body—bulky and ending in a thick tail—was covered with gray-green skin.
“It looks like a baby stegosaurus,” Petra said,
“I don’t think so, wrong suborder. More likely a ceratopsian,” Dr. Coombs replied. “I believe this is full grown.” Dr. Coombs paused, looking concerned. “We better hope so, I’d hate to be holding a baby if the mother showed up.”
Colter glanced around quickly, and then looked as if he might put the dinosaur down.
“Don’t let it go just yet,” Dr. Piltcher said. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s heavy,” Colter responded.
“It’s not a baby stegosaur,” Dr. Piltcher corrected. “I believe it is a microceratops.”
“This one’s not much bigger than Sid,” Petra said.
“It’s heavy,” Colter reminded them.
“Put it in the RV, Colter,” Dr. Coombs said. “We’ll look at it later.”
As Colter walked off he shouted over his shoulder, “This time I’m putting down some papers.”
When he was out of earshot Dr. Piltcher turned to Dr. Coombs and said in a low voice, “I bet he names it Mike.”
Overhearing, Petra snickered and then walked off toward the hedge, Dr. Coombs and Dr. Piltcher following. Creatures continued to dart through the grass, and soon Dr. Piltcher’s frustration returned. Even though he didn’t like Colter, he found himself envying him. He was turning out to be a crackerjack dinosaur catcher, too dumb to know there was any danger.
The tall bushes were too dense to pass through, but soon they came to a narrow opening and prepared to walk through single file. Petra was about to enter when Dr. Coombs held her arm.
“What do you think made this path?”
As Petra looked she saw the branches of the bushes were broken and the grasses trampled. Dr. Piltcher knelt, studying the grass. Then he looked up at the others.
“Something bigger than Sid,” he said.
Their curiosity was greater than their fears and Dr. Coombs led the way. As the undergrowth thinned, the movements below ended, and they began to walk more casually. The doctors paused occasionally, examining various bushes and arguing over classification. Petra continued to be amazed by their range of knowledge but wondered if a real specialist would quickly spot holes in it.
Now they could see the lake shimmering in the distance. They were about to move toward it when Dr. Coombs motioned them into the shadows of an overhanging bush, where they squatted expectantly. Something about six feet high was moving ahead of them, through the bush and across their path. The animal was hard to see but it seemed to have a long thin neck and walked upright. It moved slowly, apparently unaware of their presence. As it drew close, the explorers involuntarily held their breaths, but it continued its easygoing stride. It was just about out of sight when the bushes behind them parted and something came through. They all jumped up, spinning to meet the threat—Colter.
Petra gasped, and then pounded her fists gently on his chest. “Don’t do that,” she whispered.
Dr. Piltcher and Dr. Coombs were as relieved as Petra.
“Is the microceratops secure?” Dr. Piltcher asked.
“Sarah is as secure as I could make her. She may be slower than Sid, but she’s a lot stronger.”
“You named the microceratops Sarah? Not Mike?”
“You don’t call a girl by a boy’s name.”
“How do you know it’s female?” Dr. Piltcher asked.
“Because when it peed all over the floor of the RV, it squatted.”
Dr. Piltcher shook his head at Colter’s logic, but didn’t argue.
“Did you give the poor thing something to eat?” Petra asked.
“Two apples, and a pile of Ritz crackers. I gave Moose some—” Colter paused, looking over their shoulders. “And who’s this?”
The others spun around to see a six-foot dinosaur standing thirty yards away. It wasn’t anything like the other dinosaurs they had seen. Much larger, it had a huge head that was nearly all mouth. Two small black eyes were set on. either side of its face and large nostril holes tipped its protruding snout. It stood on two large back legs, leaning forward with its thick tail trailing out behind. Two thinner forelegs ended in three-fingered hands. The body was covered with loose, wrinkled, gray-green skin, and the most noticeable feature was the wicked-looking curved claws on each finger and toe. Colter leaned over Dr. Piltcher’s shoulder and whispered in his ear, “If you want me to wrestle this one to the ground, forget it.”
Suddenly the dinosaur cocked its head to the side, as if it was listening. The group froze, angry at Colter, while the dinosaur stared at them curiously. There was no menace in its eyes, only interest. Then it turned, leaned forward and trotted off through the brush, its long tail held straight out behind it. It stopped once to look back over its shoulder. The others remained silent until the dinosaur was out of sight.
“Maybe we better rethink this, Chester,” Dr. Coombs said. “That was a deinonychus.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Dr. Piltcher said too quickly. “More likely a stenonychosaurus,” He didn’t say it with any conviction.
“What aren’t you telling us?” Petra asked.
Dr. Coombs finally spoke reluctantly.
“Deinonychus is a carnosaur.”
Petra fell silent trying to think through the implications, but Colter spoke up.
“What the hell’s a carnosaur?”
The others remained silent, so Petra turned to Colter.
“It’s a meat eater.”
“So? I mean you guys didn’t expect them all to be like Moose or Sid, did you?”
Colter seemed unconcerned by their close encounter with the predator, and in many ways he was right. Colter, who had not believed this was a piece of prehistoric past in the first place, now accepted the reality of it and the accompanying dangers the others had been denying.
Dr. Piltcher, embarrassed, defended his actions and his ego.
“No, I didn’t think they would all be like Sid … the little dinosaurs. But there was no reason to think this little patch of the past would contain any predators at all. After all, there were no more predators then than there are today. Only about two percent of the dinosaurs were carnivores. That’s about the same ratio as modern mammals. How often, Colter, when you walk in the woods do you meet a bear, or a cougar? I’d wager never.”
“How sure are you about the two percent?” Colter asked.
Dr. Piltcher looked uncertain and Dr. Coombs stepped in.
“The two percent number is educated guesswork, although based on what we’ve encountered in such a short piece of time … I suppose it could be inaccurate,”
“Hey, we need a rifle. Want me to drive back to town and get one?” Colter offered.
“No … no,” Dr. Piltcher said. “I wouldn’t want to kill one …”
“Deinonychus were thought to hunt in packs, Chester,” Dr. Coombs reminded him, seeming to accept Colter’s idea.
Dr. Piltcher hesitated. “Let’s think about it. Perhaps we should head back and talk it over. Let’s circle back this way.”
Dr. Piltcher pointed in the direction opposite the deinonychus’s route. They walked in silence, vigilant now
for larger dinosaurs as. well as the smaller ones. They continued through the taller brush, curving back toward the RV, relieved when the brush thinned again and they could see farther ahead and behind. At a section of overlapping bushes, they pushed themselves through the thick brush to a small clearing filled with a mound of leaves. They started across, but found the mound soft, so they skirted around the outside—except for Colter, who continued on his way, his feet sinking into the surface.
“Man, this stuff is hot,” he complained.
Dr. Piltcher ignored Colter’s complaint for a few steps and then stopped abruptly. Petra, following close behind, bumped into him.
“Colter, is it just warm from the sun, or hot?” Dr. Piltcher asked.
“It’s hot. Come here and feel this.”
Dr. Coombs pushed his hand into the leaves.
“It is inordinately warm. It must be from the decay.”
Dr. Piltcher pushed his hand in too.
“Well, Chester, shall we dig?” Dr. Coombs asked.
“I can’t find any reason not to, but let’s not dillydally. Colter, dig down, will you? Carefully?”
“What for?”
“Colter, dig! Petra, you help watch.”
Dr. Coombs was already moving handfuls of leaves to the side. Colter bent over at the waist and began digging dog style, throwing leaves between his legs. Soon Dr. Coombs adopted the more efficient posture. They opened the top of the mound and spread out, enlarging the hole. While the leaves on top were dry and crisp, underneath was moist decaying matter, with a pungent odor.
Colter complained about the smell but his arms never slowed until he gave another shout.
He’d found an elongated egg, eight inches in length. Dr. Piltcher immediately held it out to Dr. Coombs. They turned it slowly in their hands, feeling the smooth soft shell.
“It’s very warm,” Dr. Piltcher observed.
“Yes, because of the decay,” Dr. Coombs added. “Very clever, really.”
Footprints of Thunder Page 20
