Dodos

by Al Lamanda

  DODOS

  by

  Al Lamanda

  PROLOGUE

  1

  Waldo Wallace braved the harsh winter morning as he walked from his late model BMW sedan to the administration building of the University of Idaho for, as a descendant of William Wallace, the great hero of Scotland as portrayed by Mel Gibson on screen, Waldo had an image of virile manhood to portray.

  It mattered not to Waldo that there wasn’t a single shred of evidence that linked to him to royal bloodline of the Wallace family as portrayed by Mel Gibson so heroically in the film Braveheart. It mattered not that Waldo stood five foot four inches tall, was shaped like a pear, wore thick glasses and had a receding hairline and that there wasn’t one manly thing about him that wasn’t fabricated.

  What did matter to Waldo was that he was one quarter Scottish with the name Wallace, so in his mind, he reeked of superior manhood. Since Waldo came from Idaho millionaires and was in fact one himself manhood meant doing without heated seats in his BMW sedan and if you ever spent a winter in Idaho, boy oh boy, it’s cold on the old tush.

  Waldo entered the nearly deserted administration building, it being Saturday, and walked the halls to the connecting hallway to the Wallace Wing, named after him since he donated the million dollars to build the damn thing and another million to staff and equip it.

  A millionaire by no skill of his own, Waldo inherited from his father, who inherited it from his father one of the largest potato farms in the state. So, for very little work, none really, Waldo grew wealthier every time someone baked or mashed a potato or ordered a side a fries with their burger.

  As much as he appreciated the wealth and freedom it gave him, Waldo had very little interest in the potato industry. His love, his passion, his reason in life was his deep love of science and all things scientific. By donating and creating the Wallace Wing Science Lab, he was able to pursue his scientific interests without the benefit of ever receiving a degree in science, or any other type of degree in anything at all for that matter.

  As he neared his tennis court size office, he noted the lights through the frosted glass windows were dark. His four Cryptozoologists were late, not a good sign. However, since they were late by a mere minute and it was Saturday he decided to cut them some slack and be a nice guy about their tardiness.

  Waldo entered the office, clicked on the lights and took a seat behind his desk. He looked at his watch, a massive gold Rolex and wrote the time on a notepad. He sat in silence until the door opened four minutes and thirty-three seconds later and three men and a woman walked in.

  “You’re exactly four minutes and thirty-three seconds late,” Waldo said. “That’s no way to begin a new position of employment.”

  Dudley Brown, Cody Blake, Oscar Mayer and Mabel Watts stared at Waldo.

  Mabel cleared her throat before speaking. “We’ve actually been here since eight thirty, sir. Mr. Wallace.”

  “That’s true, Mr. Wallace,” Dudley added. “Sir.”

  “The front door was locked until just before you arrived,” Mabel said. “We had no way of getting inside.”

  Waldo glared at his four new employees. “Yes,” he muttered. “Well, sit down, sit down, we have much to discuss.”

  The four sat and looked at Waldo. They were young, all under the age of thirty and had the fresh scrubbed look on their faces of eager minds willing and able to do whatever was necessary to achieve success. Waldo had that look once himself, a long time ago before money and power killed his innocence, those goddamned potatoes.

  “I am a very wealthy man,” Waldo said. “As I’m sure you’re aware of.”

  Four heads nodded.

  “In all, this expedition is costing me one million dollars,” Waldo continued. “And if you’re successful, it’s worth every penny for there is no complete skeleton of the extinct Dodo bird anywhere in the world. You four will find one and bring it home and by home I mean home to me.”

  Four heads nodded again.

  “A chartered plane will fly you to the island of Mauritius tomorrow morning where you will set up base camp and begin a three month expedition to find a perfectly preserved Dodo skeleton. As we agreed upon, each of you will be paid six figures for your work with a matching bonus if you’re successful. Just so we’re clear, the Science Club of New York is conducting an expedition their own. They are very well funded and eager to beat us to the punch. We will not be punched. By anyone. We will find the Dodo before them and make history. Any questions?”

  “Sir, Mr. Wallace, sir,” Dudley said. “Something like this can take far more time than three months. It could take years to find the remains of a small bird extinct for three hundred years.”

  “I agree,” Waldo said. “But the government of Mauritius is sick and tired of having its countryside torn up, so three months is all they’ll grant at any one time. If you fail, we’ll have to wait one year to reapply. That means you will not fail. Scotland depends on you.”

  The four looked at each other.

  “Scotland, sir,” Dudley said.

  “Did I say Scotland?” Waldo said. “I mean America depends on you. That’s what I meant. America.”

  “Yes, sir,” Dudley said.

  “Okay, let’s do a comprehensive review of the expedition from soup to nuts,” Waldo said. “Shouldn’t take more than ten or twelve hours.”

  “Hours?” Oscar said.

  “Problem?” Waldo said.

  “No, sir,” Dudley said.

  “Okay then, let’s study these maps of previous dig sites,” Waldo said.

  2.

  Two weeks later, Oscar sat on the lip of the dig site on the island of Mauritius and watched the sun come up. Less than a mile in the distance, the bright, shiny penny of the capital city of Port Louis glistened in the morning light. More than he could have hoped for, Port Louis was a paradise of nightclubs, restaurants, bars and tourists and most importantly, at least to him, beautiful young women.

  For at the age of twenty-seven, Oscar Mayer didn’t really care all that much about the science of Cryptozoology, or any other science for that matter. Truth be told, he got his degree on line from a internet college, lied to get his first job at a small Nebraska lab and continued to lie his way to his present position as bones hunter, which, despite any fancy name given it was all that they did.

  Dig and look for bones. That’s what they did. Dig and search for bones. Hell, every dog worldwide with three legs or more did the exact same thing on a daily basis and they didn’t need a degree from an accredited on-line college to do it. Just a nose and claws.

  Oscar knew he wasn’t like Dudley, Cody or Mabel in that respect. They really cared about what they did in the scientific community. Well, maybe not Cody so much. He seemed more interested in making money than anything else, including women, but definitely Dudley and Mabel. Those two were really into their bones.

  No, Oscar’s primary interest was women. Getting silly old rich geezers like Waldo Wallace to fund trips to exotic places where beautiful women abounded while being paid to chase them was a dream job come true.

  Just below the shallow ledge where Oscar sat, Dudley and Mabel brewed coffee on the six burner, gas operated stove Waldo provided. When it came to the equipment, tents, cots, cookware, food, excavating, whatever, the man didn’t skimp. He gave him props in the kudos department.

  With the hint of sunlight behind her, Mabel looked up at Oscar and smiled. “Coffee’s ready, Oscar,” she said.

  Oscar stood and walked down the wood ladder they set in place and into camp where Mabel greeted him with a warm smile and warmer mug of fresh coffee. “Pancakes with sausage okay for breakfast?” Mabel said.

  “Sure,” Oscar said as he sipped coffee and watched Mabel turn toward the burner.

  “Nice
to get an early start,” Dudley said.

  “Uh huh,” Oscar said as he stared at Mabel as she leaned over the burner.

  “Cody is checking maps,” Dudley said. “He’ll be right back.”

  “Sure, sure,” Oscar said as he watched Mabel’s pants stretch as she squatted down in front of the burner.

  “Oh, here he comes now,” Dudley said.

  “Sure, sure,” Oscar said as Mabel stood up and leaned over the burner. He had to have her. She played hard to get and that made him want her even more. He sighed and sipped coffee. Before the three months was through, she would be his, Oscar vowed, even if it cost him every bone on the stupid island.

  Cody Blake set the maps on a folding chair and helped himself to a mug of coffee. At twenty-nine, Cody’s motivation in the science world was guided by money, or rather his greed for money. With every penny earned since college invested in stocks, bonds, investments and IRA accounts, Cody’s goal in life was to retire at thirty-five a millionaire.

  The documentary he made on the search to find Bigfoot made him some easy investment cash, but nothing like this ridiculously stupid quest for the skeleton of a bird three hundred years extinct. A flightless bird so ugly and stupid, many believed they were killed to extinction just to get rid of the stupid flightless things.

  And that was just fine with Cody Blake for one extinct bird was as good as another just so long as he was handsomely paid to find the damn thing. A few more win-win jobs like this one and he’d be ahead of his retirement schedule. A hundred grand for doing nothing, two hundred if they actually found the stupid thing. With a geek like Dudley at the helm, two hundred might just be within reach.

  As he sipped coffee and watched the sunrise over the mountains on the island, Cody wondered what time it was back home, if it was too early or late to call his investment broker and check stocks.

  Mabel Watts didn’t know what it was about herself that attracted so many losers, but she was getting good and fed up with the whole thing. She’d meet a guy and they’d hit it off and then he wouldn’t call her. At first, she thought it was just the luck of the draw, but when it happened thirty-six times in a row she had to face the harsh reality that she was a magnet for losers.

  At twenty-seven, sliding into thirty, prospects were slim and growing slimmer by the day. I mean really, where were all the available men? She had a mirror; she wasn’t unattractive so why didn’t they call her?

  As she flipped sausages on the hotplate on top of the burner, Mabel looked at Oscar, who seemed to be very interested in breakfast. His eyes were locked on her as if he hadn’t eaten in a month. Well, he could jolly well wait. She wasn’t a chef, you know.

  Mabel poked a sausage. It was just about done. Good thing, too. Oscar was starting to drool. She wiped a thin sheen of sweat from her forehead and took a sip from her mug.

  Take that last guy she dated. What did she say, what did she do that was so wrong? All she said was her father never paid her any attention and the guy ran for the hills? Okay, so maybe she went a bit overboard calling him for an explanation with 137 messages on his machine and cell phone, but a girl was entitled to a reason.

  Wasn’t she?

  That was two years ago and she hadn’t dated since. What she did was lose herself in her work, signing on for eight excavations in twenty months with no time off between assignments.

  Maybe if she hit it big with a major discovery, then maybe one of these losers would call her when he said he would.

  At the age of thirty, Dudley Brown was as committed to the scientific community as any scientist anywhere in the world. His only goal in life was the discovery of a new species that would rock the Nobel committee and force them to bestow upon him the prize for science.

  Six foot six inches tall, whippet thin at one hundred and forty pounds, Dudley had sandy hair, thin features and a sharp, beaklike nose upon which rested thick framed glasses that were so heavy he wrapped white surgical tape around the bridge for comfort. If he was aware of that fact that he was a dead ringer for Robert Carradine in Revenge of the Nerds, he paid it no mind. His quest for science and the glory it afforded him occupied his every waking moment and most of his dreams.

  Now, after so many failed attempts, the Bigfoot and Loch Ness expeditions, the quest for the caveman frozen in ice, the blind cave dwelling giant turtle, it was finally his turn for the brass ring. To stand at the podium, announce his find, and take his place alongside the great recent discoveries, the Minnesota Ice Man, the mountain gorilla, the Horn Kiem Turtle and the Megamouth Shark, it was a dream comes true.

  Dudley Brown, team leader of the Wallace Expedition, finder of the only complete Dodo skeleton known to man. He’d walk out to the podium to make his speech like Russel Crowe in that movie about the math guy who was off his rocker and saw ghosts, except that he wouldn’t be wearing makeup to make him look seventy years old, that he didn’t stutter nor see ghosts who weren’t there, but otherwise, like that.

  Except that after two weeks of digging all they had to show for the work was a tiny neck bone about the size of a pinky nail. Hardly the stuff of Nobel Prizes.

  “Who wants breakfast?” Mabel asked.

  3

  Eleven weeks in with one week to go and all they had to show for their backbreaking work was a few wing, neck and leg bones. Ten percent or less of a complete Dodo skeleton.

  Failure loomed large in their future and Dudley felt his shot at the Nobel Prize sink like the Titanic, except without Kate and Leo onboard to glam things up a bit. Well, Kate certainly did, but Leo looked like a skinny thirteen year old. What the hell did she see in him, anyway? Did it matter? Their entire expedition came down to uncovering 90% of the Dodo skeleton when in the previous eleven weeks all they managed was a paltry 10%, if that.

  As Dudley made hand written notes in his journal, his tent mate Cody fooled around with a calculator and it wasn’t the first time he did so, either. Nearly every night after work, Cody played around with the stupid thing and not once did Dudley ask what the hell he was doing, no matter how aggravating it was.

  Tonight, Dudley couldn’t stand it another minute. That tap, tap, tapping on the stupid calculator, it was enough to drive a man crazy, especially when he was trying to make scientific notes on their progress or lack of said progress.

  “For eleven weeks now you’ve been fooling with that thing,” Dudley said. “Just what exactly are you calculating that’s so important?”

  “My finances,” Cody said. “What are you doing scribbling in that book every night?”

  “Documenting our expedition,” Dudley said. “What do you mean your finances?”

  “Our payment for this job,” Cody said. “I borrowed against my 401 and invested it into various portfolios and now I have to…”

  “Money?” Dudley snapped. “That’s what you’ve been calculating all this time?”

  “Of course,” Cody said. “What else?”

  “Our expedition, that’s what else?” Dudley said.

  “Oh, hang that,” Cody said. “We had no chance to succeed and you know it. Why shouldn’t a man profit from his work?”

  “The scientific community demands we put forth our best efforts to…”

  “Who gives a hang about the scientific community?” Cody said. “I just want to retire rich and young. Don’t you?”

  “No.”

  “That’s because you’re a geek.”

  “And you’re a bloodsucker,” Dudley said.

  “But, I’ll be a rich bloodsucker and you’ll still be a geek,” Cody said.

  “Take that back.”

  “Ha!”

  And so on and so forth until punches were thrown with a great deal of rolling around inside the tent.

  In the meantime, as Dudley and Cody rolled around inside their tent and bit each other on the nose and ears, Oscar and Mabel sat out under the moonlight on the ledge of the very large excavation pit and drank wine.

  “You’ll call me?” Mabel said as she sipped f
rom her fourth glass of wine.

  “I’m right here,” Oscar said as she nibbled on Mabel’s neck.

  “After?”

  “After, I’ll still be right here,” Oscar said as he nuzzled Mabel’s left ear.

  “When we get home?”

  “Yes. Wait, where do you live?”

  “Ohio. You?”

  “Michigan.”

  “That’s not so far. You’ll call me?”

  “Yes, yes,” Oscar said as he nuzzled and groped.

  “Promise?”

  “Yes, yes.”

  “Say I promise.”

  “I promise, yes, I’ll call you.”

  “Oh, Oscar,” Mabel cooed.

  “Oh, Mabel,” Oscar groped.

  “Oh, Oscar.”

  “Oh, Mabel.”

  And so on and so forth, until naked and nutty, Oscar and Mabel slid fifteen feet down the soft embankment into the pit below, ignoring the perfectly preserved Dodo Bird nest their combined weight exposed from the soft Earth.

  4

  Dudley sipped coffee and looked down into the pit. “Say, what went on here?” he said.

  Cody came up next to Dudley and looked into the pit, saw the trail in the dirt made by Oscar and Mabel and shrugged. “Don’t know,” he said and sipped from his mug.

  “Hey, Oscar, Mabel, come have a look at this,” Dudley said.

  Grinning ear-to-ear, Mabel and Oscar walked to the pit and stood beside Cody and Dudley.

  “Look,” Dudley said. “What do you suppose caused this?”

  Mabel looked at the impression in the dirt made by her and Oscar. Grinning wide enough to fit a corndog in her mouth lengthwise, Mabel said, “I’m sure I don’t know.”

  “Oscar?” Dudley said.

  “I said, I’d call and I will,” Oscar snapped.

  “What?” Dudley said.

  “What?” Cody said.

  “Nothing. Never mind,” Oscar said.