by Anna Martin
“Anyway. If anything is missing, just give me a call.”
“Will do.”
Kit was already turning away, the box in his arms, when Logan blurted—
“Do you have any plans for the weekend?”
Oh no. Oh fuck.
Kit turned back. He had a polite smile plastered on his face.
Logan wanted to die.
“Um, no, not really. It’s not like this place exactly has a lot to do.”
Logan nodded. “Yeah.” His face was burning. “Anyway. Have a nice weekend.”
He thought Kit might have said “You too,” but he was too busy rushing to leave to hear it.
Chapter Two
Kit Sterling forced himself to take a deep breath through his nose, hold it for three counts, then let it out again. Then repeated the action twice more.
“Okay,” he muttered to himself under his breath.
He heaved the box from Dr. Beck into his arms and struggled to carry it around to his area of the lab. It was incredibly heavy. Kit could have asked Dr. Beck to come back and carry it for him… but then he’d never live the humiliation down, and he was already running pretty low on his stock of self-esteem. The last of it had been lost when he stumbled face-first into Dr. Beck’s incredibly broad chest.
The box made a loud thunk when he dropped it on the counter.
It was already late, but Kit was too impatient not to at least poke through what Dr. Beck had brought him. He eased the lid off the container and started to rifle through the contents with delicate hands.
Getting samples from Dr. Beck was often the highlight of Kit’s week. Or month. There wasn’t any regularity in how often Dr. Beck came in with his box of treats. He was a field scientist and didn’t spend much time in the labs. Kit tried not to bug him for things, knowing Dr. Beck’s job was hard enough as it was. It didn’t help that every time Kit tried to make conversation with him, it either ended up with Kit feeling like a tongue-tied imbecile or with them shouting at each other for stupid reasons.
There were blood samples in the container, at least a dozen of them, and Kit worked quickly to relabel and store them in the refrigerator. Animal scat samples were marked for one of his colleagues and put in a different chiller.
He skimmed over the hastily scrawled report, saw the word photographs, and started to relax. Dr. Beck was always meticulous in his reporting, and this was a field report. The full, typed-up version would likely land in his in-box in a few days’ time.
This time Kit heard when someone came banging through the lab. He’d been caught up in the perfectly calming, methodical work, the sort he got absorbed in all too often. When he looked out the window at the far end of the lab, it had grown dark and rain pounded at the windows.
So the storm had hit.
“Kit, are you in here?”
“Lab Two,” he called back.
He sat upright, stretching his back, and looked over his station. It wouldn’t take long to clean up now. He was almost done.
“It’s nine o’clock, Christopher Michael Sterling,” Leilani said, rounding the corner and snarling at him. “On a Friday night!”
“I know.”
He didn’t. Time tended to run away with him when he was working.
“Are you coming home anytime soon?”
Kit’s roommate had become one of his closest friends on the island, which was probably a good thing, seeing as there really wasn’t much chance of him escaping her. Leilani worked in the labs too, as an assistant, and had become his personal babysitter, housekeeper, and all-around thorn in his side.
She was taller than him, scarier than him, and Kit was under no illusions she could beat his ass with one hand tied behind her back.
“Did you get dinner yet?” he asked as a distraction.
“I ate around four.”
“I’m hungry,” he said and pouted a little for effect.
Leilani rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips. “Come on. We can pick something up from Bruno’s on the way home.”
“Okay. Give me five minutes.”
She talked through the entirety of those five minutes, a running commentary of nagging. That was okay. Kit had lived with her for over two years now, so he was used to Leilani’s ranting as background noise.
When everything was cleared away, Kit patted his pockets until he found the keys to the lab, then grabbed his backpack from his hook and exchanged it for his lab coat.
“It’s raining,” Leilani said.
“I didn’t bring a jacket.”
“You’re going to get soaked.”
He shrugged. “It’s only water. I’ll shower when we get home anyway.”
She rolled her eyes but dutifully followed him around as he set alarms and double-checked his locks. Leilani took lab safety as seriously as the rest of Kit’s team.
“Anything exciting happen today?” she asked as they headed for the main doors to the lab complex.
Kit mumbled something under his breath. He should have known that wasn’t good enough around Leilani. She rarely missed a thing.
“Sorry, say that again?”
“Oh, I only ran face-first into Dr. Beck,” Kit said airily, sticking his head into the genetics lab. He then pulled the door closed and punched in the alarm code.
“How the hell did you manage that?”
“He came in to drop off some samples. I didn’t hear him coming and….”
“Is he as tanned and handsome and muscly up close?”
“More,” Kit said.
“You should ask him out,” Leilani said.
Kit snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“You never know.”
“Leilani, I make a fool of myself in front of him on a regular basis. I have no intention of evolving that into full-blown humiliation.”
“Well, if you’re not going to ask him out, I might,” she muttered. “He’s hot as balls.”
They’d reached the front door to the lab building. It was, as promised, still raining cats and dogs. The tiny overhang above the door wasn’t enough to keep the driving rain away, and within seconds of stepping outside, Kit was soaked. Leilani pulled the hood of her rain slicker up and tugged the cords tight.
“Your face looks like a penis like that.”
“This is why no one likes you, Kit,” she snapped.
He was laughing as he chased after her toward the car.
Bruno’s was the questionable diner that shared a building with the general store, located a few minutes’ walk from the lab complex. Normally, Kit would have walked over there, but with the rain, he’d accepted Leilani’s suggestion of driving instead. Pretty much anything the island’s residents needed could be ordered through the in-house order and delivery system, but basics were always available in the store, and hot, cheap, fast food came from Bruno’s.
The diner was run by Bruno himself—a tall, terrifying New Zealander, whose broad accent took a while to become accustomed to. Kit had never been particularly good at reading people, not like Leilani, but had picked up that Bruno accepted tips in the form of rugby banter. Kit had never seen a rugby game in his life, but he knew if he dropped in a comment about the All Blacks, Bruno would give him extra fries.
He was a strange guy, but most of the people who decided to come and live on the dinosaur island were.
Leilani made Kit run into the diner to collect the order she’d phoned in, because he was wet already and she didn’t want to. Kit couldn’t find the energy to argue and did as he was told.
“Dr. Sterling,” Bruno said, his accent elongating the vowels of Kit’s name. “Got your order right here.”
“Thanks.” Kit pulled out his wallet and quickly counted out enough to cover the food. Though the official island currency was US dollars, Bruno accepted pretty much anything and had the exceptional ability to run currency exchange in his head. His stash of different bills also made him the island’s unofficial Bureau de Change.
“Have a g
ood night.”
“You too,” Kit said, gathering up the bag and dashing back out into the rain.
Getting decent living accommodations on the South Island was pure luck. A sprawling apartment complex had been built for the research scientists, who were expected to live on the island since it took a few hours to reach the Archipelago from New Zealand or Polynesia by plane, depending on the weather, and few wanted to make that commute.
Though it was agreed at some point that the buildings should never be taller than the tops of the trees, some of the indigenous trees on the island were over thirty feet tall, so that wasn’t exactly an issue. As the number of people living on the island full-time continued to grow, so did the need for space to house them.
When he arrived on the islands eight years ago, Kit had moved into one of the newer apartments, one with such luxurious amenities as a washer and dryer and a bath. It did mean he was required to share the space with a roommate, though. He’d shared with Dr. Huang for a few years, and when he’d moved on, Kit had expected another grumpy old man to replace him. That was until someone in the administration department made a mistake and set up a mixed-gender residence and Leilani moved in.
It had turned out fine. Kit was gay, Leilani was incredibly laid-back, and they’d found an easy rhythm of living together that worked out well for them both.
A good roommate was the least of Kit’s worries.
Chapter Three
Logan didn’t often spend time locked away in the tiny office that had his name on the door. He wasn’t yet convinced the room wasn’t originally intended to be a broom closet, it was that small, and he couldn’t invite a guest in unless they were prepared to sit on the edge of his desk.
He wasn’t a desk job sort of person, which was maybe why his superiors didn’t think it important to give him a fancy office. He preferred being outside, where things were actually happening. Having to write it all up officially was just a necessary pain in his ass.
But an official office—even one as small as his—seemed to invite work to be done far more productively than if he was sitting on his sofa. So even though he was still tired and achy from wrestling parasaurs, Logan went to the office. And sulked about it.
With the rainstorm still hammering the islands, there wasn’t much point in going out to track and trace the animals. Chances were they’d all be deeper inside the forest, where the trees were thicker and they could shelter from the rain. Though Logan tried to keep paperwork to a minimum, he was the head ranger and that came with certain responsibilities.
After six years in the job, Logan didn’t regret his decision to leave Africa and relocate to one of the most remote places on the planet. He’d been cynical about the Archipelago for most of the time he’d been a student. He’d never harbored any particular ambition to work on the “dinosaur islands,” as they were known colloquially, not until the opportunity came up. Now he couldn’t imagine his life anywhere else.
In California he’d studied for degrees in veterinary science and animal biology and had found himself working at the San Diego Zoo before he turned thirty. Zoos had never really appealed to him, though, so when the opportunity came up to become a ranger at Amboseli National Park in Kenya, he’d skipped out before even thinking the plan through.
The pounding rainstorms of the Archipelago were a far cry from the still heat of Africa.
For a long time, Logan had thought he’d spend the rest of his life in Kenya. He’d toured most of the country with his colleagues, giving lectures at Mount Kenya University and the University of Nairobi. It was so different from where he’d grown up, but it hadn’t taken long for the place to become home.
So when the rumors started that he was being headhunted for a ranger position on the Archipelago, Logan was skeptical.
Habitation of the South Island had only really picked up in the eighties when the international scientific community agreed a research post was a good idea, even though the islands had been discovered in the seventies. The “Second Bermuda Triangle,” as it was initially known, had been identified as a series of anomalies by the Landsat program in 1975. The British sent the first explorers to the island (as the British were wont to do), and in 1978 an enterprising young nobleman by the name of Lord Andrew Salisbury caused international uproar by sticking a flag on the North Island and claiming the land for Queen Elizabeth.
He was eaten by oviraptors shortly afterward, and many considered his declaration moot.
By the time Logan had completed his veterinary qualifications, the initial explosion of interest in the dinosaurs still living in isolation in the South Pacific was starting to wane. An international treaty declared a no-fly zone over the islands and a wide naval exclusion zone in the ocean around them. Pictures of the animals were rare. It took a long time for the general public to accept that the dinosaurs were not going to be available for general viewing.
Though honestly, people still went crazy for every last tidbit of new information about the dinosaurs. Logan thought that would probably always be the case.
The rain now pattered in a comforting tattoo against the window as he worked steadily, transferring his field notes to the database anyone working at the resort could access. As head ranger, Logan was responsible for a small team of six rangers and a rolling intern position that changed every six months. The rangers worked in pairs, giving Logan three teams that patrolled the two larger islands. With the islands covering over twenty thousand square kilometers, they were grossly understaffed.
One of the appeals of coming to the South Pacific Archipelago was the chance to continue working on his own terms. In Kenya, he’d worked a patch, getting to know the terrain and the animals that lived in that particular habitat. It was the same here. Everything just took longer to achieve with his smaller team.
A few of the field researchers had observation spots on the West Island, though none of them ventured as far as the North Island. There were a few reasons for that. Just getting there was a six- or seven-hour drive, so it couldn’t be done in a day trip. Speedboats were an option, but unpopular among the lab team after several valuable samples got destroyed in choppy waters. Most of the larger predators were on the North Island too, making it far more dangerous than observing the herbivores and smaller carnivores on the West Island. To get to the northernmost coast of the North Island was a trip that could take several days on dirt roads, and occasionally meant driving on crude paths cut through the jungle. Few people wanted to camp out on Dinosaur Island. Logan was pretty sure he was the only one who’d ever done it.
Logan looked up at the wall of his office, where he’d stuck a large topographical map of the island chain. There were several pins of different colors poking out of it, denoting species and where he’d spotted them.
The northern ridge of the North Island was particularly empty of pins.
It was no use. He was going to have to go back out there.
A light knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” Logan called.
A pretty Hawaiian girl stuck her head around the door.
“Dr. Beck?”
“That’s me. Can I help?”
He leaned back in his seat as she let herself in.
“Leilani Kahoa. I’m one of the lab assistants. You left some samples with my colleague on Friday?”
“Yeah.”
She nodded. “We just need you to come over and sign them in. I think someone forgot to do the paperwork before.”
Logan huffed a laugh. “Paperwork in this place,” he said.
Ms. Kahoa gave him a knowing smile. “Tell me about it,” she said. “Are you free now? I hate to ask, but we’re trying to cover our tracks before anyone notices the documentation is missing.”
“Sure,” he said. “Can you give me a minute and I’ll walk over with you?”
“No problem.”
She ducked out, and Logan finished his thought in his document before saving it and locking his computer. His mind was still spinning
with a growing theory on carnotaurus territory on the West Island, but he couldn’t quite put it into words yet.
“Sorry about that,” Logan said, shutting and locking his office door behind himself. There were rarely any thefts on the island, but it paid to be safe. “Had to get a thought out.”
“No problem.”
“Am I in trouble?”
She laughed. “No, not at all. If anything, it’s Kit’s fault. He should have made sure it was all logged properly before he let you leave.”
“It was pretty late when I came in,” he said, feeling guilty that Dr. Sterling was taking the blame. Ms. Kahoa only grinned.
They walked the short distance to the labs in polite silence, each huddled against the rain. Though Logan was theoretically one of the highest-ranking managers on the island, there was an unofficial hierarchy within their community. That meant despite the politeness of Ms. Kahoa’s request, there was really no way he could have refused her. When he’d arrived, it had been far subtler, and for a while he’d convinced himself that he was imagining things.
These days it was clear that even as the most senior ranger here, Logan still fell much lower down the hierarchy than the lab-based scientists. It was a good day when they recognized his contribution to the work done on the island, or even acknowledged that without his team bringing back samples, most of the “important” work couldn’t be done.
The rangers were treated like zookeepers at best, ignorant farmhands at worst, and rarely given any credit for their observations. Logan was pretty much okay with how it worked, but the prejudice had driven away a few members of his team who decided they didn’t have to put up with it. Logan’s job was never going to be about accolades and recognition. He just wanted to work with the animals.
He held the door open for Ms. Kahoa, allowing her to walk through first.
During the day, the laboratory was far more bustling than it had been on Friday night. There were around three hundred people living and working on the islands now, though a fair number of them were part of the support team—admin, payroll, management, maintenance. It took a lot to keep their little community of scientists alive.
