Arnold adjusted the camera as the herd moved away. The dust slowly cleared. He saw that the hadrosaurs had scattered, and the tyrannosaur had stopped running, which could only mean it had made a kill. The tyrannosaur was now near the lagoon. Arnold looked at the video monitor and said, “Better get Muldoon to go out there and see how bad it is.”
“I’ll get him,” Gennaro said, and left the room.
The Park
A faint crackling sound, like a fire in a fireplace. Something warm and wet tickled Grant’s ankle. He opened his eyes and saw an enormous beige head. The head tapered to a flat mouth shaped like the bill of a duck. The eyes, protruding above the flat duckbill, were gentle and soft like a cow’s. The duck mouth opened and chewed branches on the limb where Grant was sitting. He saw large flat teeth in the check. The warm lips touched his ankle again as the animal chewed.
A duckbilled hadrosaur. He was astonished to see it up close. Not that he was afraid; all the species of duckbilled dinosaurs were herbivorous, and this one acted exactly like a cow. Even though it was huge, its manner was so calm and peaceful Grant didn’t feel threatened. He stayed where he was on the branch, careful not to move, and watched as it ate.
The reason Grant was astonished was that he had a proprietary feeling about this animal: it was probably a maiasaur, from the late Cretaceous in Montana. With John Horner, Grant had been the first to describe the species. Maiasaurs had an upcurved lip, which gave them the appearance of smiling. The name meant “good mother lizard”; maiasaurs were thought to protect their eggs until the babies were born and could take care of themselves.
Grant heard an insistent chirping, and the big head swung down. He moved just enough to see the baby hadrosaur scampering around the feet of the adult. The baby was dark beige with black spots. The adult bent her head low to the ground and waited, unmoving, while the baby stood up on its hind legs, resting its front legs on the mother’s jaw, and ate the branches that protruded from the side of the mother’s mouth.
The mother waited patiently until the baby had finished eating, and dropped back down to all fours again. Then the big head came back up toward Grant.
The hadrosaur continued to eat just a few feet from him. Grant looked at the two elongated airholes on top of the flat upper bill. Apparently the dinosaur couldn’t smell Grant. And even though the left eye was looking right at him, for some reason the hadrosaur didn’t react to him.
He remembered how the tyrannosaur had failed to see him, the previous night. Grant decided on an experiment.
He coughed.
Instantly the hadrosaur froze, the big head suddenly still, the jaws no longer chewing. Only the eye moved, looking for the source of the sound. Then, after a moment, when there seemed to be no danger, the animal resumed chewing.
Amazing, Grant thought.
Sitting in his arms, Lex opened her eyes and said, “Hey, what’s that?”
The hadrosaur trumpeted in alarm, a loud resonant bonk that so startled Lex that she nearly fell out of the tree. The hadrosaur pulled its head away from the branch and trumpeted again.
“Don’t make her mad,” Tim said, from the branch above.
The baby chirped and scurried beneath the mother’s legs as the hadrosaur stepped away from the tree. The mother cocked her head and peered inquisitively at the branch where Grant and Lex were sitting. With its upturned smiling lips, the dinosaur had a comical appearance.
“Is it dumb?” Lex said.
“No,” Grant said. “You just surprised her.”
“Well,” Lex said, “is she going to let us get down, or what?”
The hadrosaur had backed ten feet away from the tree. She bonked again. Grant had the impression she was trying to frighten them away. But the dinosaur didn’t really seem to know what to do. She acted confused and uneasy. They waited in silence, and after a minute the hadrosaur approached the branch again, jaws moving in anticipation. She was clearly going to resume eating.
“Forget it,” Lex said. “I’m not staying here.” She started to climb down the branches. At her movement, the hadrosaur trumpeted in fresh alarm.
Grant was amazed. He thought, It really can’t see us when we don’t move. And after a minute it literally forgets that we’re here. This was just like the tyrannosaur-another classic example of an amphibian visual cortex. Studies of frogs had shown that amphibians only saw moving things, like insects. If something didn’t move, they literally didn’t see it. The same thing seemed to be true of dinosaurs.
In any case, the maiasaur now seemed to find these strange creatures climbing down the tree too upsetting. With a final honk, she nudged her baby, and lumbered slowly away. She paused once, and looked back at them, then continued on.
They reached the ground. Lex shook herself off. Both children were covered in a layer of fine dust. All around them, the grass had been flattened. There were streaks of blood, and a sour smell.
Grant looked at his watch. “We better get going, kids,” he said.
“Not me,” Lex said. “I’m not walking out there any more.”
“We have to.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Grant said, “we have to tell them about the boat. Since they can’t seem to see us on the motion sensors, we have to go all the way back ourselves. It’s the only way.”
“Why can’t we take the raft?” Tim said.
“What raft?”
Tim pointed to the low concrete maintenance building with the bars, where they had spent the night. It was twenty yards away, across the field. “I saw a raft back there,” he said.
Grant immediately understood the advantages. It was now seven o’clock in the morning. They had at least eight miles to go. If they could take a raft along the river, they would make much faster progress than going overland. “Let’s do it,” Grant said.
Arnold punched the visual search mode and watched as the monitors began to scan throughout the park, the images changing every two seconds. It was tiring to watch, but it was the fastest way to find Nedry’s Jeep, and Muldoon had been adamant about that. He had gone out with Gennaro to look at the stampede, but now that it was daylight, he wanted the car found. He wanted the weapons.
His intercom clicked. “Mr. Arnold, may I have a word with you, please?”
It was Hammond. He sounded like the voice of God.
“You want to come here, Mr. Hammond?”
“No, Mr. Arnold,” Hammond said. “Come to me. I’m in the genetics lab with Dr. Wu. We’ll be waiting for you.”
Arnold sighed, and stepped away from the screens.
Grant stumbled deep in the gloomy recesses of the building. He pushed past five-gallon containers of herbicide, tree-pruning equipment, spare tires for a Jeep, coils of cyclone fencing, hundred-pound fertilizer bags, stacks of brown ceramic insulators, empty motor-oil cans, work lights and cables.
“I don’t see any raft.”
“Keep going.”
Bags of cement, lengths of copper pipe, green mesb . . . and two plastic oars bung on clips on the concrete wall.
“Okay,” he said, “but where’s the raft?”
“It must be here somewhere,” Tim said.
“You never saw a raft?”
“No, I just assumed it was here.”
Poking among the junk, Grant found no raft. But he did find a set of plans, rolled up and speckled with mold from humidity, stuck back in a metal cabinet on the wall. He spread the plans on the floor, brushing away a big spider. He looked at them for a long time.
“I’m hungry. . . .”
“Just a minute.”
They were detailed topographical charts for the main area of the island, where they now were. According to this, the lagoon narrowed into the river they had seen earlier, which twisted northward . . . right through the aviary . . . and on to within a half-mile of the visitor lodge.
He flipped back through the pages. How to get to the lagoon? According to the plans, there should be a door at the back of the building they were in. Grant looked up, and saw it, recessed back in the concrete wall. The door was wide enough for a car. Opening it, he saw a paved road running straight down toward the lagoon. The road was dug below ground level, so it couldn’t be seen from above. It must be another service road. And it led to a dock at the edge of the lagoon. And clearly stenciled on the dock was RAFT STORAGE.
“Hey,” Tim said, “look at this.” He held out a metal case to Grant.
Opening it, Grant found a compressed-air pistol and a cloth belt that held darts. There were six darts in all, each as thick as his finger. Labeled MORO-709.
“Good Work, Tim.” He slung the belt around his shoulder, and stuck the gun in his trousers.
“Is it a tranquilizer gun?”
“I’d say so.”
“What about the boat?” Lex said.
“I think it’s on the dock,” Grant said. They started down the road. Grant carried the oars on his shoulder. “I hope it’s a big raft,” Lex said, “because I can’t swim.”
“Don’t worry,” he said.
“Maybe we can catch some fish,” she said.
They walked down the road with the sloping embankment rising up on both sides of them. They heard a deep rhythmic snorting sound, but Grant could not see where it was coming from.
“Are you sure there’s a raft down here?” Lex said, wrinkling her nose.
“Probably,” Grant said.
The rhythmic snorting became louder as they walked, but they also heard a steady droning, buzzing sound. When they reached the end of the road, at the edge of the small concrete dock, Grant froze in shock.
The tyrannosaur was right there.
It was sitting upright in the shade of a tree, its hind legs stretched out in front. Its eyes were open but it was not moving, except for its head, which lifted and fell gently with each snorting sound. The buzzing came from the clouds of flies that surrounded it, crawling over its face and slack jaws, its bloody fangs, and the red haunch of a killed hadrosaur that lay on its side behind the tyrannosaur.
The tyrannosaur was only twenty yards away. Grant felt sure it must have seen him, but the big animal did not respond. It just sat there. It took him a moment to realize: the tyrannosaur was asleep. Sitting up, but asleep.
He signaled to Tim and Lex to stay where they were. Grant walked slowly forward onto the dock, in full view of the tyrannosaur. The big animal continued to sleep, snoring softly.
Near the end of the dock, a wooden shed was painted green to blend with the foliage. Grant quietly unlatched the door and looked inside. He saw a half-dozen orange life vests hanging on the wall, several rolls of wire-mesh fencing, some coils of rope, and twob ig rubber cubes sitting on the floor. The cubes were strapped tight with flat rubber belts.
Rafts.
He looked back at Lex.
She mouthed: No boat
He nodded, Yes.
The tyrannosaur raised its forelimb to swipe at the flies buzzing around its snout. But otherwise it did not move. Grant pulled one of the cubes out onto the dock. It was surprisingly heavy. He freed the straps, found the inflation cylinder. With a loud hiss, the rubber began to expand, and then with a hiss-whap! it popped fully open on the dock. The sound was fearfully loud in their ears.
Grant turned, stared up at the dinosaur.
The tyrannosaur grunted, and snorted. It began to move. Grant braced himself to run, but the animal shifted its ponderous bulk and then it settled back against the tree trunk and gave a long, growling belch.
Lex looked disgusted, waving her hand in front of her face.
Grant was soaked in sweat from the tension. He dragged the rubber raft across the dock. It flopped into the water with a loud splash.
The dinosaur continued to sleep.
Grant tied the boat up to the dock, and returned to the shed to take out two life preservers. He put these in the boat, and then waved for the kids to come out onto the dock.
Pale with fear, Lex waved back, No.
He gestured: Yes.
The tyrannosaur continued to sleep.
Grant stabbed in the air with an emphatic finger. Lex came silently, and he gestured for her to get into the raft; then Tim got in, and they both put on their life vests. Grant got in and pushed off. The raft drifted silently out into the lagoon. Grant picked up his paddles and fitted them into the oarlocks. They moved farther from the dock.
Lex sat back, and sighed loudly with relief. Then she looked stricken, and put her band over her mouth. Her body shook, with muffled sounds: she was suppressing a cough.
She always coughed at the wrong times!
“Lex,” Tim whispered fiercely, looking back toward the shore.
She shook her head miserably, and pointed to her throat. He knew what she meant: a tickle in her throat. What she needed was a drink of water. Grant was rowing, and Tim leaned over the side of the raft and scooped his hand in the lagoon, holding his cupped hand toward her.
Lex coughed loudly, explosively. In Tim’s ears, the sound echoed across the water like a gunshot.
The tyrannosaur yawned lazily, and scratched behind its ear with its hind foot, just like a dog. It yawned again. It was groggy after its big meal, and it woke up slowly.
On the boat, Lex was making little gargling sounds.
“Lex, shut up!” Tim said.
“I can’t help it,” she whispered, and then she coughed again. Grant rowed hard, moving the raft powerfully into the center of the lagoon.
On the shore, the tyrannosaur stumbled to its feet.
“I couldn’t help it, Timmy!” Lex shrieked miserably. “I couldn’t help it!”
“Shhhh!”
Grant was rowing as fast as he could.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” she said. “We’re far enough away. He can’t swim.
“Of course he can swim, you little idiot!” Tim shouted at her. On the shore, the tyrannosaur stepped off the dock and plunged into the water. It moved strongly into the lagoon after them.
“Well, how should I know?” she said.
“Everybody knows tyrannosaurs can swim! It’s in all the books! Anyway, all reptiles can swim!”
“Snakes can’t.”
“Of course snakes can. You idiot!”
“Settle down,” Grant said. “Hold on to something!” Grant was watching the tyrannosaur, noticing how the animal swam. The tyrannosaur was now chest-deep in the water, but it could hold its big head high above the surface. Then Grant realized the animal wasn’t swimming, it was walking, because moments later only the very top of the head-the eyes and nostrils-protruded above the surface. By then it looked like a crocodile, and it swam like a crocodile, swinging its big tail back and forth, so the water churned behind it. Behind the head, Grant saw the hump of the back, and the ridges along the length of tail, as it occasionally broke the surface.
Exactly like a crocodile, he thought unhappily. The biggest crocodile in the world.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Grant!” Lex wailed. “I didn’t mean it!”
Grant glanced over his shoulder. The lagoon was no more than a hundred yards wide here, and they had almost reached the center. If he continued, the water would become shallow again. The tyrannosaur would be able to walk again, and he would move faster in shallow water. Grant swung the boat around, and began to row north.
“What are you doing?”
The tyrannosaur was now just a few yards away. Grant could hear its sharp snorting breaths as it came closer. Grant looked at the paddles in his hands, but they were light plastic-not weapons at all.