Lost World Of Patagonia

by Dane Hatchell

  Susan finally peeled herself out of the sleeping bag and dressed near a wall.

  “What’s up?” Matt asked, straightening his shirt collar.

  “Nothing really. This trip’s been at such a whirlwind pace we haven’t spoken much. Are you comfortable with the mission so far? The Redwater gang, do you see anything we might need to be concerned about?”

  “Not really. They are a strange bunch. Ben seems to get along with them. Hell, I don’t know if he’s said two words to me this entire trip. Logan told me he and Bats had come to an understanding—whatever that means. He didn’t go into any detail. You know, I like Logan a lot. He’s been a really good friend to me. I just . . . I just worry about him sometimes. He might be suffering from some type of depression. Not that he’s moody. He’s just quiet. I’ve tried to talk to him about it a time or two, and he’s opened up a little, but he always pulls back before things get too deep. You know Logan, he can shift into the next gear in a moment’s notice and turn into the life of the party,” Matt said.

  “Let’s both keep an eye on him. In fact, we need to take responsibility for our crew and not just rely on Redwater for our protection. Not only are we as professors responsible for our students, but we’re also older and better at decision-making. At some point we will be leaving the camp area and do a little exploring. I think it’s best that one of our group never goes out alone with a Redwater member. At least two should stay together. In fact, either you or I need to be part of any group heading out.”

  “Yeah. I get it. That’s a good idea. Having a figure of authority might encourage the Redwater crew to show us proper respect. Not that they haven’t. But I can see them taking advantage of the others if we weren’t around—especially Natasha. Those mercenaries can be an intimidating bunch.”

  “No doubt, though you wouldn’t know it by the way Ben’s acting. He’s doing his damnedest to fit in with them. We need to watch and make sure he doesn’t go too far. You know how things—horseplay—can get out of hand.”

  “Everyone is having a good time until someone gets his teeth punched out,” Matt said.

  “Right. If we see him going a little too far we’ll rein him back.”

  “It’s a plan.”

  Alex watched Susan pass and walk out of the front cabin. “Let’s hit the head and eat some breakfast. This should be an exciting day.”

  *

  “How’d you sleep?” Natasha asked while running her fingers through the long hair on the back of her head. At some point she thought she’d have to put it in a ponytail to keep cool.

  “I slept okay. Couldn’t stop thinking about that Protoceratops for a while. That was cool,” Logan said while rubbing his hand across his chin. “I need to shave.”

  The two rounded the rear cabin where Coop and Suge had the drone out, preparing it for flight.

  “Morning,” Natasha said.

  Coop grunted out a: “Morning.” Both he and Suge were preoccupied and didn’t bother to look up.

  She turned back to Logan. “Why bother? Why don’t you just let it grow? You’ll look more like an explorer that way.”

  “Ha! I wish I could grow a beard. I may have blondish hair but hairs on my face come in black, red, and gray, too. Plus, the hair only grows in sporadic patches. I’d look ridiculous.”

  “How about just a moustache? Have you ever tried to grow one of them?” Natasha asked as they came upon the two latrines which were set up several yards to the opposite side of the canopy. The makeshift bathrooms consisted of a greenish tarp walled around a plastic bench with a large hole cut out on the seat. Underneath, a hole had been dug in the ground, and aromatic chemicals poured in for odor control. It was simple and it worked. Thank god there was toilet paper.

  “I had a moustache before. Let’s just say Burt Reynolds back in the ’70s would have been a huge fan. It basically looked like a caterpillar caught up in a wind storm.”

  “Well, we wouldn’t want that.” Natasha laughed. “Me first.” One of the latrines had the flap up, indicating it was occupied. She took a turn in the next one and waited for Logan. When he had finished his business, the two left for the canopy, Natasha’s flip-flops snapping at each step.

  Boots on ground kicked up behind her; she glanced back and saw Meat leaving the other latrine.

  “Morning, Natasha. Morning, Logan,” Meat said, the constant grin wide across his face.

  “Morning, uh . . . Meat. Sorry, I have a hard time calling you that,” Natasha said.

  “Hey, Meat,” Logan casually said.

  “Aw, don’t worry, Natasha. Everyone calls me that,” Meat said, and made no attempt to catch up with the two.

  “I’m sorry, but after your introduction the other night, I’ve forgotten your real name. I had a lot of new names to learn,” Natasha kept walking.

  “Clinton J. Perry, at your service. Clint’s just fine by me,” Meat said.

  “Okay, Clint,” Natasha said.

  Logan turned, and said, “Eh, you don’t look like a Clint. You’ll always be Meat, to me.”

  Meat laughed. “Understandable.”

  *

  As soon as Alex stepped out of the canopy he heard two taps of something hard striking another hard object, a distinct crack, and then sizzling and pops. He looked over and saw Ron and Caveman by the cooktop. Ron had MREs warming. Caveman hovered over a large skillet and had a spatula in his hand. “Eggs? I didn’t know they brought eggs on this trip,” he said to Matt.

  A backpack set on the ground near Caveman, the top flipped back, with an extra-extra-extra-large, dark brown egg exposed.

  “Son-of-a-bitch,” Alex muttered under his breath. He cautiously approached Caveman, his mouth open in disbelief. This could not possibly be happening.

  “Good morning, Prof,” Caveman said. He shoved the spatula around the edges of the frying egg. “You hungry? Want some eggs? These are big. There’re plenty to go around.”

  “Sir, I . . . Please tell me those aren’t what I think they are,” Alex said, trying his best to keep his cool.

  “Dinosaur eggs? Yep, picked them fresh this morning,” Caveman said.

  By this time Natasha, Logan, and Meat had made it back to the canopy. They stopped to watch. A few others exited the canopy; either they heard the sizzling egg or came to pick up a MRE. After all, it was time for breakfast.

  Alex’s mouth moved as if searching for the right words. His spread arms with palms turned toward the sky pumped empty air. Then, he said, “Why?”

  “’Cuz I like eggs in the morning,” Caveman said, his tone couldn’t have been more casual.

  “But those are dinosaur eggs. Probably from that Protoceratops roaming around last night,” Alex said.

  “Yeah. I heard about that. Didn’t see it though. I did some early morning exploring and found a nest. You ever seen eggs that big before? I have. Had a buddy that raised emus. Emu eggs are a lot prettier. They’s kind of greenish blue,” Caveman said.

  “You had no right to take those eggs.” The words had seethed out. Alex felt anger rise. His cheeks tingled.

  “I didn’t take them all,” Caveman said, as if an excuse to absolve him from his thievery.

  “But you’re upsetting the balance of nature. We’re interlopers here. We’re a new species invading their land. We have to be careful—these creatures have found some way to survive for millions of years. We don’t want to do anything to change that.”

  “Didn’t that Darwin guy you believe in say something about the survival of the fittest?” Caveman asked.

  “Yeah, but—”

  “But nothing. Man’s king of beasts now. And king of beasts here, too.” Caveman frowned in frustration. “This thing’s too big to flip. Guess I’ll have to settle for scrambled eggs.”

  “Unbelievable!” Alex let his raised arms fall by his side.

  “What’s going on here?” Coop asked as he walked up.

  “One of your men here took the liberty steal eggs from a dinosaur nest. He’s fry
ing one up right now in a pan. After sixty million years we find a genuine dinosaur egg, and that man over there is cooking it!” Alex released the anger.

  Coop closed his eyes. His head wilted to one side. “John. What did you do?”

  “Hell, Coop. I didn’t do anything I don’t normally do. You know how I like to live off the fat of the land,” Caveman said.

  “But John, you should know better. No other place on Earth is like where we are now. I thought I’d made it clear we weren’t supposed to kill anything unless we didn’t have a choice,” Coop said.

  “But I didn’t kill nothing. These is just eggs,” Caveman pleaded. “And I brought enough for everybody.”

  “That was quite thoughtful of you. But stealing the eggs was wrong. And you won’t be cooking up the rest. Understand?” Coop said.

  “Yeah, I got it,” Caveman said.

  “And you’ll return those eggs as soon as you can?” Coop asked.

  “Yep, I’ll do that too. But I got news for you, this egg’s mine, and I ain’t sharing it neither,” Caveman said.

  Coop turned to Alex and shrugged his shoulders. “Enjoy, my friend,” he told Caveman. Coop grabbed two MREs and headed back to the rear cabin.

  Caveman pulled the skillet from the cooktop and stepped off to the side. He stirred the egg a bit more with the spatula, scooped some egg with it, and put a bite into his mouth. “Mmm-Mm. Them’s good eggs.”

  *

  Natasha sat next to Logan and across from Meat at the foldout table. Matt took a seat next to Alex, and he and Susan did their best to calm the man down. The rest of Redwater crew grabbed their MREs and went to the rear cabin by the drone. Ben wasn’t around, so she assumed he was with them.

  She had eaten her sausage patty and hash browns with bacon, and now broke off pieces of her strawberry pastry and nibbled on it. There was a plastic sleeve that came with the MREs and a small packet of salt water. She picked up the sleeve and started reading the instructions. “You use this to heat an MRE? How does that work?” she asked.

  Meat wiped his mouth and finished chewing. “Inside that pouch there’s a white pad—it’s a heating element. What you’re supposed to do is tear open the sleeve and place the unopened entrée packet inside. Then, you tear open the salt water and pour it into the sleeve. You fold the top over, and put something over it so it won’t pop open—but don’t seal it completely.”

  “So it’s a chemical reaction of some sort. Does it get very hot?” Natasha asked.

  “It gets hot enough to make steam. You’ve got to be careful that it doesn’t burn you,” Meat said.

  “Oh, well, I’m sure that’s great when you’re out on a mission,” Natasha said.

  “I’m not complaining, but I still haven’t gotten used to this powdered milk. Kind of taste like chalk,” Logan said.

  “Use the powdered white milk for cereal. There’s chocolate powdered milk to drink,” Meat said.

  “Really? What’s it taste like?” Logan asked.

  “Chocolate flavored chalk,” Meat said.

  The three had a good laugh.

  “Say, Natasha. I’ve got a question for you,” Meat said.

  “What is it?” She picked up the remaining half of her pastry and took a bite.

  “Earlier, when we were walking back from the latrine, I saw you had a tattoo on your left heel,” Meat said.

  “Yes, I do,” Natasha answered.

  “That’s some kind of Hindu God, isn’t it?” Meat asked.

  “It is. Shiva is an important Hindu deity. The tattoo is of Shiva as Nataraja—the cosmic dancer. Do you know much about Hinduism?” Natasha asks.

  “No, never had a reason to,” Meat said.

  “I won’t go too deep into it, then. Shiva is the God of destruction—a destructive force. Not an evil force. Where Brahma, another Hindu God, creates, Shiva dissolves. Shiva destroys so that Brahma may create in the rebirth. If you think about it, after the big bang, the universe is an example of creation and destruction. Stars formed from hydrogen molecules in birth, and when they go nova, they die. In doing so they created heavier elements. The process has repeated itself over billions of years. Every element in your body is recycled star material. Brahma creates, Shiva dissolves, so that the rebirth can continue,” Natasha said.

  “Wow, that’s some deep shit.” Meat pondered a moment. “You got any other tattoos?”

  “No, just that one. It’s not very elaborate. I guess I originally got the tattoo as a coming of age thing. After I got that one, I’ve had no desire for another,” Natasha said.

  “Yeah. Not the best artwork. I could do a much better job than that,” Meat said.

  “Hey, Coop’s about to launch the drone,” Ben called out, his head sticking through the opening of the canopy’s wall.

  *

  Alex had regained his composure by the time he arrived by the drone. All the Redwater members were present, and he made a conscious effort to keep his gaze away from Caveman. No need to stir up anything right now. What’s done is done, and hopefully such a heinous act wouldn’t be repeated.

  The unmanned aerial vehicle had a traditional airplane design and a wingspan about as long as an average size man. It had one engine in the middle of the back of the wing, above the rear of the fuselage. He’d seen Coop and Suge partially put it together, and surmised it was made of light material. Alex knew of various ways to launch an UAV. Some can be launched from ships and other aircraft. He’d seen hand launch and catapult launches, too. This was the first drone he’d seen with wheels.

  Coop made his last few checks on the drone and walked back to the waiting crowd. “We’re all set to go, Alex.”

  “I’m excited. Hey, how is that thing powered? Please don’t tell me nuclear,” Alex said, trailing off in a laugh.

  “I wish. No, it’s powered by a specially patented fuel cell.”

  “I don’t see any solar panels, so I guess it doesn’t use sunlight for a boost,” Ben said.

  “Well, fact is, the drone is made of a material that works better than a solar cell. There’s not a lot of direct sunlight here, but what light that does make it gets amped up in the collector. Plus, the collector not only uses sunlight for energy, it also uses ambient heat. I figure out here we could keep it in the air for twenty-four hours before it had to have a full recharge.”

  “How fast will it fly?” Alex asked.

  “Up to sixty miles an hour and about at five hundred feet. This bird is going to come in handy for this trip,” Coop said.

  “I’m ready if you are,” Alex said.

  Coop gave a wave to Suge, who pushed a few buttons on a laptop.

  The drone’s propeller buzzed into action. The wheels rolled as the UAV sped forward. In no time the front end lifted off the ground, and the modern marvel soared into the air.

  All eyes followed as it flew higher over the forest and eventually out of sight.

  Chapter 12

  The laptop set strategically positioned on the table for the maximum number of viewers. Of course, Alex and Coop had front row seats. For those who didn’t want to crowd around the larger screen, the drone’s video stream could be watched on individual satellite phones.

  Susan sat to Alex’s left and fidgeted in her chair. After what seemed to be her one hundredth sigh, he resisted telling her to Get the fuck away. The anticipation was getting to him, too, though. It’s just that she wasn’t making matters any better.

  The drone had been traveling at top speed for nearly two hours. Coop had the thing programed to fly around ten feet above tree level. It was boring for the most part, watching the ocean of green leaves whizzing by. He said he wanted to minimize the risk of a pterosaur mistaking the drone for something good to eat.

  Alex had studied up on pterosaurs after viewing the photos released by The International Enquirer. Pterosaurs weren’t dinosaurs. They were basically just flying lizards and the earliest vertebrate to have evolved the power of flight. The flying lizards were more closely related
to birds than to any other living reptile. Pterosaurs varied in sizes, with wingspans as small as ten inches to nearly forty feet. So far, the drone had caught glimpses of pelican sized pterosaurs resting on branches during the flyby. One had raised its wings as a warning. Two bailed off the branch and flew out of the camera’s range. And the other just didn’t seem to give a damn.

  According to the satellite map, the forest in Patagonia was thickest from where the Warthog had set camp to the largest river, which was to the west. The river was over one hundred miles away, and the expedition couldn’t make it there if it wanted to. Unless, of course, they traveled on foot. Which wasn’t going to happen.

  The volcano was to the northwest. Another point of interest that wouldn’t be visited this outing. Later today, they’d begin the journey heading southwest. And at some point, the Warthog would set permanent camp, and Coop and a few of his men would head to find the precious commodities—the true intent of this expedition.

  “Looking at the radar, the drone will be arriving soon at the river,” Alex said. The radar was superimposed over the satellite map, and the GPS showed the UAV as a red cross mark. The image wasn’t in Google Earth detail, but was still surprisingly sophisticated. “Since we’re pioneers, we have the privilege to name our discoveries after ourselves. How does the Klasse River sound to you?” Alex directed his joke toward Coop.

  “It sounds like a trademark infringement,” Coop said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s named Lear’s River.”

  “You’ve already named the river?”

  “Yep, and a few other major landmarks, too.”

  “Like the volcano?” Alex asked.

  “You mean, Ace Corporation Mountain?”

  Alex slowly lifted his head backward, looked at the canopy top, and shook his head. “I should have known.”

  “It’s all about getting paid when it comes down to it,” Ben said. He and the others had been surprisingly quiet.

  Alex turned and saw that Natasha and Matt had peeled away and gone back in the front cabin, presumably to sit on the slightly more comfortable benches over the chairs and watch the feed on their phones. A few of the Redwater members were still there, but he didn’t bother to notice who.