“Come on, Emmett,” Carrollee said, pulling his arm. “Let’s see what’s happening.” She moved forward before Emmett could protest, so he followed. He’d seen the slow gait of the beast and felt confident he could outrun it. A puzzled look on her face, the policewoman also followed. Carrollee led them directly behind the plesiosaur, whose head occasionally swung left and right, freezing them in their tracks. However, it seemed oblivious of their presence.
Carrollee reached the edge of the park and looked down into the hole the dinosaur had dug, then she signaled Emmett with a frantic motion of her hand. He approached carefully and peered into the sand to see three eggs. Emmett turned to say something to Carrollee, but both the cop and Carrollee put their fingers to their lips.
As Emmett watched in silence, suddenly the rear of the plesiosaur pulsed rhythmically and another egg emerged wet from the animal and fell into the hole, bouncing off the others, its shell soft and pliant. They waited in silence until another egg emerged, and then they backed away slowly.
When they were out of hearing range Carrollee babbled ecstatically. “Can you believe this? A plesiosaur laying eggs on our beach. I hope there’s a male in that clutch. That species could be reestablished.”
The plesiosaur stayed on the beach another hour, slowly drawing a big crowd of people behind it in the park. When cameras started clicking, the cops decided the crowd might upset the plesiosaur, so they backed them up again. Shortly after that the animal began burying its clutch, the back flippers covering the eggs with huge scoops of warm sand. When the hole was completely filled the plesiosaur turned and moved up onto the mound it had created, screaming a warning at the people. Then it turned, moving toward the sea, stopping again twice to scream warnings. Finally it disappeared into the sea again. Emmett was sure it wouldn’t go very far.
Carrollee immediately talked the cops into posting a guard on the eggs until she could arrange people to protect the site. Emmett knew she would have no trouble rounding up faculty, graduate students, and environmentalists to mount a twenty-four-hour guard until those eggs hatched.
Only after the cops agreed could Emmett pull Carrollee into the park and past the gawking bystanders. He complained when his bare feet met the hot pavement of the parking lot.
“Where are your shoes?” Carrollee asked.
“In the surf.”
“Scared right out of them, eh?”
“Not at all.”
“Then let’s go’back for them.”
“That’s okay. They were a month old anyway.”
After they swung by Emmett’s apartment for shoes and dry clothes, they headed for the university again. This time they passed a grocery store that was being looted—though not by an angry crowd, at least not yet. Three blocks away they passed four police cars going in the other direction. Without saying anything to each other, Emmett and Carrollee both knew things would only get worse.
Carrollee dropped Emmett at the university and then left to arrange for protection for what she was now calling “her babies.” As she drove away she promised to call Emmett.
When Emmett got back to Dr. Wang’s office he immediately called up the PresNet, scanning the network looking for some-thing about plesiosaurs, but there was nothing. Knowing about the plesiosaur was too important a piece of knowledge to keep to himself, and he typed in a report about it. After he finished it he felt a pang of guilt and added Carrollee’s name. Then he reread the report several times, trying to get the nerve to send it. Finally, he typed in Dr. Wang’s access code and punched the send button. A few minutes later Emmett’s terminal was flooded with requests for additional information. Emmett’s ego swelled with each request. He was a player now. If only he knew what the game was.
33. Hunted
A great horned beast came terrorizing the villages. It walked on two legs like a man, and had a great tail Our spears could not penetrate its skin. One hundred warriors died before we drank its blood and ate its heart.
—Legend of the Toltecs
North of Bend, Oregon
PostQuilt: Monday, 12:05 P.M. PST
Dr. Piltcher carried the egg inside his shirt all the way back to the RV, where he wrapped it in a blanket and placed it in the sun in the front window. Sarah, the microceratops, was still in the back of the RV and whining irritatingly. Petra tossed her an apple, and she immediately attacked it, crunching and slurping; then Petra split another apple between Moose and Sarah.
Dr. Coombs and Dr. Piltcher decided to rotate the egg every half hour during the day, keeping it in the sun. At night they would have to use the oven, or even sleep with the egg. Dr. Piltcher kept unwrapping the egg, looking at it and feeling the shell.
“It’s nearly hard,” he said. “That probably means it’s ready to hatch.”
“I agree, Chester,” Dr. Coombs said. “Of course it will hatch sooner if you stop unwrapping it.”
From then on, Dr. Piltcher checked on the egg every few minutes but he didn’t unwrap it. Instead he perched himself on a bunk in the back and sat studying Sarah, who wandered around her enclosure sniffing, and snorting. Occasional small amounts of mucous sprayed from her nose. Excited by this, Dr. Piltcher wondered aloud whether she might have a cold. Colter’s only response was to put down more paper.
Then Dr. Coombs called Dr. Piltcher outside, where he found Dr. Coombs and Petra kneeling in the tropical meadow looking at the grass.
“What is it, George? I believe the microceratops has a cold … wouldn’t that be interesting? Not surprising, for sure, but an interesting subject to study.”
“Very interesting,” Dr. Coombs agreed. “But something more serious is happening. Look at the grass here, notice how it is drooping. The meadow is drying out; it won’t last long without rain. And when the snow comes in a couple of months, everything will die, animals and all.”
“Yes, we expected this. But so soon? We’ve only begun to explore.”
Petra cut him off by putting her hand on his arm and then slowly standing and pointing across the meadow. The others looked in that direction to see the biggest animal they had encountered yet. Its huge head was shaped something like a rhinoceros and was tipped with a long horn and surrounded by a large collar. Two smaller horns protruded from its collar above its head. It was five feet at the shoulder, and taller at the back, its head hanging low to the ground.
“What do you think, Chester?” Dr. Coombs asked. “Is it a triceratops?”
“No, the horns are wrong. But it’s similar.”
“Maybe we better get inside,” Petra whispered quietly. “Please, let’s go.”
“I don’t think we should all go at once,” Dr. Coombs said. “Petra, you go first.”
Petra slowly backed up several steps, before turning to walk toward the RV. When she was nearly to the door, Dr. Piltcher turned to follow. As he turned, the dinosaur raised its head, moving it back and forth slowly, then dropped and lifted it quickly again—and came up roaring. As the group watched, the head dropped again and the dinosaur broke into a run, right toward the group.
Dr. Coombs and Dr. Piltcher bolted toward the RV. Petra dashed the last few yards to the door and then shouted for the others to hurry. Colter came up behind her and watched silently. Petra was sure her friends would win the race—the humans had too much of a head start. Petra felt relief as she and Colter made room for Dr. Coombs and Dr. Piltcher. When they were safely inside she stepped down, grabbed the door, and pulled it closed behind them. When she locked it, Colter laughed.
“It’s not going to make any difference, Petra. Look at the size of that mother.”
As they looked out the window, they saw it looming larger and larger, not as big as the RV, but close enough.
“Everyone get down!” Colter yelled. “Get down or fall down!”
They all sat down on the floor and against the back wall of the RV. Watching the charging dinosaur had been terrifying, but sitting on the floor, unable to see, was worse. Petra linked arms with Colter and Dr. Co
ombs, who linked his with Dr. Piltcher. Colter pushed his legs straight out against the cabinet opposite him, wedging himself in as tight as he could, the rest copying him. They were all tightly packed when the dinosaur hit. It did little good.
When the curved horn on the snout slammed into it, the door of the RV crumpled, ripping from its hinges in a scream of metal. As the huge mass of the dinosaur continued forward the head forced itself through the door and into the RV. The neck collar, too wide for the opening, crumpled the wall on both sides of the door. Now the impact turned loose objects in the RV into shrapnel. Pens, and paper, a flashlight, apples, and peaches ricocheted all around, drawers flew open and silverware bounced around. Cupboards opened and dry goods poured over the four heads;
The impact of the collision drove the RV backward across the clearing, rocking the occupants forward and then throwing them back as the RV absorbed the rest of the force and jerked to a stop. When their heads cleared, those inside realized the vehicle was tilted at an angle.
They held their breath waiting for it to fall over or rock back onto its wheels. Neither happened. Then they realized why. The dinosaur’s head was still jammed in the door, and it was looking at them with a huge angry eye.
They were all frozen in fear except Colter, who reached down, picked up a spatula, leaned forward and slapped the dinosaur on the nose.
“Get the hell out of here!” he yelled.
The dinosaur went crazy and began thrashing its head. Its power was stunning. The RV shook back and forth with the wrenching head, the thin metal of the doorway screaming with each motion. Then, with a powerful jerk, the head withdrew from the doorway. Suddenly the beast slammed against the side of the RV, again and again. The powerful shocks reverberated inside, making it impossible to stand. The dinosaur was systematically crushing the full length of the RV. A particularly vicious slam shattered the window farthest back, showering the inside with glass. Sarah’s fearful squeal could be heard above the din. Then the attacks stopped, and only Sarah’s squeals continued, eventually dying to a whimper.
When the group managed to get their own breath under control, they heard the dinosaur breathing outside. They sat paralyzed with fear, afraid to move lest a sound would bring another attack. Colter, the spatula still in his hand, started to move to the window, but Dr. Piltcher grabbed his back pocket.
“Whatever you do, don’t hit it with that again!”
Colter smiled reassurance and handed the useless weapon to Dr. Piltcher. Then the dinosaur screamed. Colter dove to the floor just before another slam shattered the window.
The dinosaur continued crushing the side of the RV, deafening the cowering occupants. Then it stopped again. They waited fearfully, afraid to move. The dinosaur slammed the vehicle twice, then took up a station outside the RV, its wet, ragged breathing sounding menacing. Soon, it was clear, the animal wasn’t going to leave until it had what it came for.
34. Time Waves
I can foretell what is coming because I know what has been.
—Zorastrus, Prophet of Babylon
Washington, D.C.
PostQuilt: Monday, 3:58 P.M. EST
Frustrated, Phil stared at the piles in front of him. Kenny’s disks were divided into three categories: “software,” “use-less,” and “what the hell is this?” The software category contained commercial programs for word processing, drawing, or spreadsheets. The “useless” pile included data storage files that contained Kenny’s term papers, book reviews, class outlines, and letters home. Bill snagged the disks with the letters on them. The “what the hell is this?” category were the programs Phil was concentrating on.
“Why don’t you tell us what you know so far, and maybe we can help a bit,” Bill suggested.
“There’s a dozen programs here but they seem to be of three types.” Phil pulled down menus with the mouse, then three columns filled the screen. The first column was labeled DATE, the second was labeled PLACE, and the third EVENT. The first entry was July 22, 1879; London; frog fall. The second entry was August 19, 1881; Kiev, Ukraine; woman burns. The third entry was March 2, 1882; St. Augustine, Florida; ice fall. Terry scanned the list. These were the kinds of events Kenny’s books and files were filled with.
“There’s five hundred and twenty-two entries on this list. There’s three other lists too. One of the lists isn’t in any kind of order. It’s kind of a hodgepodge of things like Sasquatch and yeti sightings, UFO reports, junk like that. Most of it’s garbage except the report about a prehistoric fish caught off the coast of South America. I saw a picture of that fish so I know it’s true.”
Terry understood. He’d never have believed the I-5 mountain either, if he hadn’t seen it in person.
“Some of this stuff is pretty old. I found a file labeled with Zorastrus’s name. It’s got the really old stuff in it.”
Bill and Terry exchanged glances. The name Zorastrus kept coming up.
The screen now filled with programming commands.
“This is the second kind of stuff. He’s got several versions of this program. You can see what he was trying to do. Most of this stuff is just display instructions—commands to read his data array, complete some calculations, and display the output. The important part is here.” Phil scrolled the program until his finger came to rest at a particular spot. “This is where his formula starts.”
“Formula for what?” Bill asked.
“I ain’t no mathematician,” Phil protested, but then he yielded. “It looks like he’s trying to fit a curve to three sets of variable data. Okay, it’s like this. Let’s say I draw a line on a piece of paper through points A, B, and C. Then I want to know where that line will be if I add an inch to A, an inch to B, and an inch to C. That’s what he had the computer doing. He wasn’t using inches though, and he wasn’t always adding the same amount to each reference point, and sometimes he subtracts.”
“If he wasn’t using inches what was he using?” Bill asked.
“The only one I’ve figured out is this one.” Phil reached up and tapped the third column. “It looks like it varies between 1 and 200,366. One set ranges from 1 to 366 and the other from between 1 and 200. It works something like an odometer. Once this column reaches either 365 of 366 it rolls over a number in the next column.”
“It’s counting days and years?”
“Yeah, it even corrects for leap year.”
“Umm…” Bill began. “That makes sense. Kenny thinks these events in the past have something to do with what’s happened. What’s the third kind of stuff?”
“Graphics. Here, watch this,” Phil opened another file using the mouse. “This is still a piece of crap, but it’s the best thing this bozo programmed.” The screen was split with a line marking off one third of the screen. The larger portion had two small circles, one in each upper corner of the screen. Phil punched a key and the two circles slowly expanded. When they met the screen froze and the letter A appeared at the point of contact. Another letter A appeared in the left-hand column with three sets of figures. Phil punched another key and the circles expanded again. As soon as the circles finished crossing each other the screen froze again. This time two more letters appeared, a B and a C, marking the two new contact points between the circles. There were now three sets of three figures in the left-hand column. Terry noticed that the A figures had changed. Another key punch and the circles began to expand again. Terry watched the A, B, and C columns of figures change as the circles expanded. When they reached the edge of the screen the program stopped.
“That’s it?” Bill asked. “That’s all it does?”
“I told you it was a piece of crap. Part of this stuff is dates again.” Phil pointed to the columns of figures on the left side of the screen, “Hard to tell though because he ran all the numbers together, course I could fix it in a jiff.”
“No, Phil. What about the rest of the numbers? Counting the dates, it’s really four sets of numbers. I haven’t figured out the other three yet. Here, look at t
his one.” More work with the mouse and another set of commands filled the screen. “This one’s a little different.”
Punching more keys, Phil called up another program. It was like the other program but instead of two expanding circles, these began to pulse, repeatedly sending out expanding waves. As one circle expanded, another circle formed within it, chasing the first circle to the edge of the screen. When the expanding circles nearly reached each other, the image switched to show smaller multiple circles expanding within each other.
“He adjusted for scale, it’s the same circles,” Phil added.
The circles continued to expand, but one by one the inner circles overtook the outer circles and merged until only two circles remained. Then the image froze. Terry looked over at the numbers on the left.
“Phil, what’s the date count?”
“You have an idea, Terry?” Bill asked.
“Remember our idea about Hiroshima and the bomb? Maybe these circles start with the bomb?”
Terry and Bill looked at Phil expectantly, but he just shook his head.
“Counts wrong. If we subtract the count from yesterday then we miss Hiroshima by seventeen years … still… that’s an interesting idea.”
Phil drifted inward, reminding Terry of Kenny’s drift into a catatonic state. But Bill urged Phil on. “These other numbers, do they have something to do with the frog falls, avalanches, and other events on Kenny’s list?”
Phil seemed reluctant to come back from wherever he was.
“You’re thinking latitude and longitude, aren’t you? That’s what I was working on when you got here. There’s too many numbers, though.” Phil looked lost in thought again. “All right, maybe you guys can help me—I think I’m getting it. Colonel, I need some more data.”
Footprints of Thunder Page 24
