The Doctor and the Dinosaurs

by Mike Resnick

  “Fine. I don't mean to be rude, but I really want to get these ribs and vertebrae back to camp tonight.”

  “Go ahead,” said Holliday. “I didn't mean to disturb you.”

  Cope smiled again, and went back to chopping rock and dried mud away from the bone, and Holliday took a couple of steps back to give him more elbow room.

  Then, since he found the sight of men carefully chopping tiny pieces of rock away with their hammers boring, he looked off to his left.

  And blinked to make sure he wasn't imagining things.

  And then muttered a heartfelt “Oh, shit!”

  “WHAT'S THE MATTER?” asked Cope irritably as he stopped hammering at the rock.

  Holliday didn't answer, and the paleontologist looked up at him.

  “What's wrong, Doc?” he persisted.

  “We've got company,” said Holliday grimly.

  “If it's that bastard Marsh…” began Cope.

  “We should be so lucky,” said Younger, staring where Holliday indicated as most of the men began diving into the holes they'd dug for cover.

  Two hundred yards away was a huge dinosaur, possessed of an enormous head, rows of razor-sharp teeth, tiny forelegs, massive hindquarters, and a large, heavy tail that it seemed to use for balance.

  “Predator or prey?” asked Holliday, holding his weapon with both hands and aiming it at what he hoped was the creature's heart.

  “My God!” said Cope excitedly. “It can't be!”

  “It damned well is,” said Holliday. “Do I try to kill it, or just stir up some dust at its feet—if this thing can stir up dirt—and try to scare it away?”

  “Definitely a predator,” said Cope, staring in rapt fascination. “It's too big to be an allosaur. There's a carnosaur that we've tentatively called a tyrannosaur. What a magnificent animal!”

  “Theodore!” called Holliday, not taking his eyes off the creature. “You got a bead on him?”

  “I'll take his head,” answered Roosevelt from about seventy feet to Holliday's right. “You go for the heart.”

  “Tom!” yelled Holliday. “What the hell's the range on this thing?”

  “At least a hundred yards,” Edison hollered back.

  “Doc!” called Roosevelt. “Don't shoot for a minute. I want to get my rifle, just in case these gadgets don't work.”

  “You think a rifle can stop this thing?” said Holliday dubiously.

  “Do you think that toy you're holding can?” said Cope.

  The dinosaur continued approaching them at a leisurely pace, stopping every couple of steps to test the air and survey its surroundings.

  “Either he's not hungry or he's blind as a bat,” said Holliday.

  “Or else he's killed some Comanche and doesn't think we present any kind of a threat,” suggested Cope.

  The creature got within eighty yards of them, then seventy. Younger emptied his pistol into it without doing any appreciable damage, indeed without the beast even acknowledging that it was being shot multiple times.

  “Theodore, what the hell's taking you so long?” growled Holliday to himself as a number of the men fired their pistols futilely at the dinosaur and others broke and ran for camp.

  It was within fifty yards when Roosevelt called out: “Okay, Doc!”

  “What kept you?”

  “The wind shifted, and all the horses sensed a threat approaching. It took me an extra minute to get mine to hold still long enough to get my rifle.”

  “Don't you want a rifle too, Doc?” asked Cope. “Or perhaps a shotgun?”

  Holliday shook his head without taking his eyes from the creature. “The condition I'm in, I could barely lift one—and if I fired it, I'd do more damage to me than to the dinosaur.”

  The dinosaur was thirty-five yards away now, and was clearly attracted by the scent of the men and the horses. The horses began screaming, and as it turned its head toward them, Roosevelt and Holliday both fired their weapons.

  The creature emitted a hissing screech, fell backward, instantly got to its feet, and charged in Holliday's direction. Another shot from each of Edison's weapons slowed it down, and after two more shots it lurched to its right, and collapsed. It struggled to rise once, then fell over on its side and lay still.

  “Well, I'll be damned!” said Holliday, staring at his weapon. “It could use a little more stopping power, but the thing actually works!”

  “I've got to examine this!” cried Cope, racing toward the fallen dinosaur.

  “Just a minute, Professor!” said Roosevelt as he approached the huge creature.

  “What is it?” demanded Cope. “This is my camp. I have every right to—”

  “Nobody's denying that,” said Roosevelt. “But there's an old hunting term that you're probably not familiar with. We call it ‘paying the insurance.’”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Cope.

  “Spending the price of an extra bullet—or whatever it is that these things shoot—to make sure your quarry is dead.”

  So saying, Roosevelt walked to within ten feet of the fallen dinosaur's huge head and pressed the firing mechanism on his weapon again. There was no reaction from the dinosaur.

  “He was dead,” said Cope. “Anyone could see that.”

  “There's another old expression,” said Roosevelt. “It's the dead ones that get up and bite you.” He turned to Cope. “Anyway, he's all yours now.”

  Cope raced up to the carcass and walked around it, prodding it here and there. “Definitely too big for an allosaur!” he said excitedly. “Definitely a tyrannosaur!” He pulled a notebook out of his pocket and began writing furiously. “Jim!” he cried to one of his men. “You and Travis start measuring him.”

  Those members of his crew who hadn't raced back to camp cautiously approached it, and Holliday and Roosevelt retreated to where Edison and Buntline had been watching the action.

  “Well, they work,” said Holliday.

  “You don't sound too enthused,” noted Buntline.

  “Ned, we need more stopping power,” said Roosevelt. “It took us six shots to kill it. Now, maybe we missed some vital areas, but either it's got remarkable vitality, or we'd better learn exactly where its heart and brain are in that huge body and cranium so we hit them the first time. If it had been twenty yards closer when it began its charge, it would have sunk its teeth into someone before we nailed it.”

  “I'll see what we can jury-rig,” said Edison. “But you have to understand that we don't have much in the way or tools or facilities.”

  “Just making an observation.”

  “I'll make another,” said Holliday.

  “Oh?” said Edison.

  Holliday nodded. “Did you see the expression on Cope's face? He's probably never been that happy in his life. And you know Marsh would be the same way.”

  “Well, he's a paleontologist,” replied Edison. “This is his field of study. Of course he's happy. The one thing he never thought he'd see is one of these creatures in the flesh.”

  “I don't think you're following me,” said Holliday. “This is the happiest and most excited he's ever been. When word reaches Marsh, he'll be the most insanely jealous bastard you ever saw, and of course he'll move heaven and earth to get his hands on his own specimen.”

  Edison frowned. “I'm not sure I follow you, Doc. I mean, that's obvious, but I don't know where you're leading.”

  “Our task wasn't to shoot dinosaurs, Tom,” said Holliday patiently. “It was to convince Cope and Marsh to go dig somewhere besides the Comanche burial ground.” He paused. “You think any power on earth could get either of ’em to leave now?”

  “Ah!” said Edison. “I see!”

  “Maybe news won't spread to Marsh's camp,” suggested Buntline hopefully.

  “That's the biggest killer to roam the world in millions of years,” said Holliday. “How long do you think you can keep it secret?”

  “If we tell our men to keep quiet about it…” began Buntline.
/>   “Damn it, Ned,” said Holliday irritably, “they send a saboteur here every couple of days—and we send one there.”

  “All right,” said Buntline. “All right. Try to remember that I'm not the enemy.”

  “You've been remarkably quiet, Theodore,” noted Edison.

  “Just thinking,” answered Roosevelt.

  “About…?”

  “What if we put together a small herd of cattle?” suggested Roosevelt. “No more than half a dozen head. And took them along on the digs?”

  Holliday frowned. “As bait?”

  Roosevelt shook his head. “Not to attract them. I'd be much happier if we never saw another one of those monsters, except perhaps in a zoo.”

  “Then I don't follow you.”

  “If they sense a tyrannosaur or any other huge predator, they'll start mooing in terror, and that should attract its attention. It means we'll sacrifice a cow or two to buy us a little more time, since as you point out these weapons don't have the stopping power of my Winchester, let alone a Lee-Enfield .303 or whatever else Selous uses on elephant.”

  “Selous?” asked Buntline.

  “An African hunter I correspond with,” answered Roosevelt. “When I finally get over there, he's offered to be my guide.”

  “Let's concentrate on making sure you live long enough,” said Edison. He paused. “Won't the cattle be more likely to attract a dinosaur?”

  “I don't think so,” said Roosevelt. “Neither men nor cows are its natural prey. Until it gets close enough to panic them, I don't imagine the scent of cattle will attract it any more than the our own scent.”

  “Just one problem, Theodore,” said Holliday.

  “Oh?”

  “You see any cows around here?”

  “Where's the nearest place to buy some?” asked Roosevelt.

  “Not for two or three days in any direction. This is Comanche country. You'd probably have to go to Cheyenne.”

  “We could send Tom and Ned,” offered Roosevelt.

  “Neither of us would know how to drive the herd from there to here,” said Edison. “I learned to do a lot of things while I was out here, but being a cowboy isn't of them.”

  Roosevelt shrugged. “All right. It was a thought.”

  “If another dinosaur shows up,” said Holliday, “how many more shots are these guns good for before they run out of power?”

  “They should be good for another four to six shots apiece at full strength,” said Buntline. “After that, they'll still sting for a few shots, but they probably won't kill something this big and with this much vitality.”

  “And then?”

  “And then we have to re-charge them for the better part of a day.”

  “You should have brought more,” said Holliday.

  “Damn it, Doc!” snapped Edison, finally losing his temper. “These are prototypes! We made them on short notice, and couldn't possibly field-test them until we came here.”

  “All right, I apologize,” said Holliday. He turned to Roosevelt. “Let's you and I go back and see if there's any way to see what harm we did—besides killing it, I mean.”

  “Makes sense,” agreed Roosevelt. “If my shots bounced off the cranium and yours killed it, I'd like to know that before the next time we have to face one—and vice versa, of course.”

  “There were no open wounds and no blood, at least that I could see,” said Holliday, “but Cope's been examining the damned thing for a few minutes now, so maybe he can tell us which shot was the fatal one.”

  He headed off to where the crew had gathered around the tyrannosaur, accompanied by Roosevelt. Cope was directing two men who were measuring the beast's head.

  “Do you know what killed it?” asked Roosevelt.

  “You two, of course,” said Cope.

  “I mean, which shot?”

  Cope shook his head. “I never heard a shot, and as far as I can tell this lady here is totally intact.”

  “Lady?” said Holliday, surprised. “You mean this is the smaller, weaker sex?”

  “No, Doc,” replied Cope. “I just mean that this one is a female. As far as I can tell, and even that fraud at the other end of the burial ground would agree with me, there seems to be almost no size differential among the carnivores. Hell, if anything, the females are bigger than the males.”

  “Besides, size isn't everything,” added Roosevelt. “The African lion is appreciably larger than the lioness, but it's the lionesses that make most of the kills.”

  “Mea culpa,” said Holliday. “How could I live with Kate Elder all those years and not know that?”

  “So there's no indentation, no wound of any kind, on the head?” persisted Roosevelt.

  “See for yourself,” said Cope.

  “Just out of curiosity,” said Holliday—and for future reference, he added mentally—“where is the heart located?”

  “We'll have to cut her open to be sure,” answered Cope, “but I think it'd be right about there.” He pointed, indicating the spot.

  Holliday nodded. “That's where I was aiming.”

  “I don't know what kind of weapons you were using,” said Cope, “but they certainly did their job.” He stood erect and looked off into the distance. “I wonder…”

  “About what?” asked Roosevelt.

  “If one of these creatures has survived all the way to the nineteenth century, I wonder how many others might have. And,” he added, “I wonder what she's been feeding on to reach this size.” He frowned. “And how she escaped notice is absolutely beyond me. There are a lot of questions waiting to be answered.” He paused and sighed deeply. “At least I'll be answering them, rather than that bearded bastard from Yale.”

  Holliday and Roosevelt exchanged looks.

  “All right,” said Cope, clapping his hands to get his men's attention, “there'll be time to stand around later. We need skin samples, teeth, internal organs, even an eyeball. Let's get as much done as we can during the daylight. We'll skip lunch and eat a hearty dinner…and I want to leave two men here to ward off scavengers once night falls.”

  Cope began walking around the enormous body, pointing out the things he wanted each man to do, and Roosevelt and Holliday retreated to where Edison and Buntline stood watching the proceedings.

  “Ah, well,” said Buntline. “We might as well go back to camp.”

  “I don't know,” said Edison. “I'm aware of Cole Younger's reputation, but there's no way he can protect them from another tyrannosaur, or even an allosaur.”

  “Doesn't matter,” said Holliday. “We've got to go back to camp. We have our work cut out for us.”

  “Why?” asked Edison and Buntline in unison.

  “We have to find a way to divide your battery in half,” said Roosevelt.

  “What are you talking about?” said Buntline, frowning.

  “I've got to go to Marsh's camp as soon as possible,” said Roosevelt. “And I've got to go armed.”

  “Are you sure that's necessary?” asked Edison.

  “Tell him, Doc,” said Roosevelt.

  “They resurrected one tyrannosaur, and it wasn't enough,” said Holliday grimly. “What do you think they're going to do next?”

  EDISON SPENT ABOUT FIFTEEN MINUTES fiddling with the battery, making notes and conferring with Buntline. Finally he stood up and turned to Holliday and Roosevelt.

  “I'm sorry,” he said, “but there's simply no way to divide the thing. Ned could build another, but we'd have to go Cheyenne, or possibly even a larger town, to get the materials we need.”

  “Okay, we can't divide the guns,” said Holliday. He frowned. “That presents a problem.”

  “A major one,” agreed Roosevelt. “One camp is going to be completely unprotected.”

  Holliday nodded. “And it's got to be Marsh's.”

  “Why?” asked Edison.

  “If we take both weapons with us, it could take us at least half a day, maybe a whole one, to locate Marsh,” said Holliday. “No sense leaving
both camps unprotected for a day.”

  “Ah, I see,” said Edison.

  “So our main task now is to somehow convince Marsh to move his base of operations here. It's the only way we can protect everyone.”

  “So who will man the other weapon once Theodore's gone?” asked Buntline.

  “Cole Younger will handle one,” replied Holliday. “I'll have to trust him to pick the best shot to handle the other.”

  “The other?” repeated Buntline, frowning.

  “Yeah,” answered Holliday. “I don't relish the ride, but I've got to go with Theodore.”

  “Why?”

  “Because all he'll have is his rifle, and based on our experience here I think it'll take more than one rifle to bring one of these creatures down.”

  “With a little luck we won't run into any,” said Roosevelt. “Whatever it was that attracted the one we just killed to this camp may attract whatever comes next. Thirty men talking and breaking rocks make a lot of noise.”

  “I'm perfectly happy to bet Marsh's life on that,” said Holliday. Suddenly he smiled. “Wouldn't even mind losing.”

  “Doc!” said Edison, frowning.

  “Seriously,” said Holliday. “If they kill Cope and Marsh, maybe the Comanche will be happy and send ’em all back to hell.”

  “First, they won't stop with Cope and Marsh,” said Roosevelt, “but will kill all sixty or seventy members of their staffs. And second, if they could make them vanish just like that”—he snapped his fingers—“then our Apache friend wouldn't be worried about them traveling a few hundred miles southwest to his territory.”

  Holliday frowned and pulled out his flask. “Don't you ever get tired of being right?” he growled. “I was really happy thinking of letting the dinosaurs have Marsh and Cope for lunch.”

  “I'll get the horses,” announced Roosevelt, walking off to the stable area while Holliday turned both weapons over to Younger, and had Buntline begin instructing him on how to use them. Then Roosevelt was back, and the two men mounted their horses and headed off to the east.

  “That was quite a monster,” remarked Roosevelt as they rode along.

  “Yeah, I'll be seeing him in my nightmares for years,” agreed Holliday. “Well, for one year, anyway,” he amended. He shook his head in wonderment. “Who'd ever have guessed that the day would come when I'd be standing side by side with a New York politician, shooting at something that dwarfs a grizzly bear and hasn't been seen on Earth for millions of years?” He paused. “I wonder how many more of them are out there.”