Cretaceous Dawn

The proverb of putting all your eggs in one basket could apply to putting too many dinosaurs in one mold. Dinosaurs became increasingly specialized, and by the end of the Cretaceous were restricted to a few ecological niches, primarily large animal niches. Hadrosaurs, for example, are known for their wonderful variety of size and shape, and especially for the range of fantastic crests on their heads. By the late Maastrichtian, however, the predominant hadrosaur was Edmontosaurus , uncrested, gigantic. Likewise, Triceratops, the largest of the ceratopsians, became predominant, while other ceratopsians disappeared. This loss of diversity almost certainly made them more vulnerable to extinction.

It was a printout of a digital picture; a picture of a garishly colored beetle with very long antennae and spiky legs. Earles looked up. “This is one of their mysterious beetles? The ones that appeared, and then disappeared?”

“Yes,” Mark said. “I found the image file and printed it. Those scientists you brought in—they won’t let me near the main computer. I had to wait until they took a break.”

Mark held it out; it was a field guide to North American insects. “I found this in the lab. It belongs to that paleontologist they called. His name’s inside it.”

“And you’ve looked up the beetle?” Earles’ mind was racing; if this insect could be localized to a particular region, authorities there could be alerted to look for the missing people . . . unless it was a very remote region. Something about the beetle’s color made her think of tropical jungles.

“This beetle isn’t in the book,” Mark said. “And why would they call a paleontologist? Why not that entomologist in the ecology department?”

“An entomologist studies insects,” Mark replied. “Usually modern insects. A paleontologist studies things of the past—fossils and such. Things that don’t exist anymore.”

Earles wasn’t sure she was following him. “Those scientist thought they were recreating extinct beetles? You think that’s why they called in that guy Whitney?”

“Why else would they call him? I’ve never heard of a physics lab bringing in someone like that. I showed the picture to the entomologist, Bob Heckwood. He couldn’t come close to identifying it.” Mark looked straight at her for the first time. “I think they were retrieving samples from sometime in the past. Like, millions of years in the past. I looked up that guy Whitney’s profile. He’s an expert in Cretaceous ecology. He wrote a paper on Late Cretaceous beetles, in fact.”

Dr. Shanker grinned. “Whitney, I’m surprised at you. And when you’re back home sitting in your office, sipping your coffee, you’ll never forgive yourself for passing up a chance like this.”

Julian mumbled something about a chance to get swallowed whole. He had already stumbled on Corla one night and been very nearly killed. In retrospect, he knew the attack had been less than halfhearted, or he would not have survived. Maybe she had only been curious that time. But even the idle curiosity of a T. rex did not much appeal to him.

Still, Julian hesitated only a moment before following his companions out of the trees and across the scrubby plain to a black mass of tall, tangled bushes. At the edge of the thicket Carl stopped, studied the ground, and paced silently back and forth. Then by gestures he indicated a huge gap in the hedge, leading into the darkness under the forest canopy. Something had already come that way and broken through the tangles of vegetation: something enormous.

Peering into the rent in the foliage, he gradually made out blotches of light where the moon filtered down through the canopy. He could see a rounded object. The large theropods were thought to have crouched down on their bellies when they rested, if they slept at all. Julian assumed, therefore, that he was looking at the curve of Corla’s spine. Enough was visible to give some sense of the scale of the animal. At eighteen tons, she would be two hundred times the size of a human. Julian began to get the shakes and wished like anything they had never come so close. But at the same time he was absurdly pleased that they’d succeeded in creeping up on the thing; stalking the stalker, this ultimate of predators.

At a signal from Carl they turned and crept away. Carl did not follow immediately, but let the other two get some way ahead. Julian wondered if he was trying to protect them: if the tyrannosaur woke up, he would be the closest to her. Looking back, he saw Carl still standing there, staring into the darkness at his long-time friend. That friend, if she saw him, would probably kill him.

Dr. Shanker and Julian had crossed the open, moonlit area and were near the shelter of the pine trees before they stopped to look back again. Carl had just turned to follow when behind him the monstrous head of Corla emerged out of the shadows and bobbed, as if sniffing the wind. Julian froze and stared; but Carl made a gesture for them to continue toward the trees.

“We can’t leave him,” Julian whispered back. He watched as Carl strode across the open area, through the rocks and low shrubs. The man’s life depended on reaching cover before the animal saw him; but if he ran, he would certainly attract its attention. With no hand-out of meat forthcoming, would the animal take Carl instead?

Carl gestured again, and reluctantly Julian led the way into the shadows under the trees. But as soon as he was hidden from view, out of the direct moonlight, he stopped and looked back again. Carl was still walking toward them, carefully, silently. Well behind him, but still towering over him, paced the tyrannosaur. How, Julian thought to himself, can a thing so monstrous move with no sound?

He picked up a small rock, hefted it, and stepped out of the fringes of the wood. Carl, seeing what he was doing, gave a slight shake of his head.

They watched the scene progress, silent in the moonlight: the man in front moving with long deliberate strides, and behind him the huge beast stepping with strides five times as long. But she did not seem hurried; she kept an even distance, as if she intended only to keep him under observation.

The animal stopped when she reached the center of the open area. Her shadow in the moonlight stretched huge over the stony ground. She stood perfectly still, alert, watching Carl as he approached the trees. The stump of her clawless forelimb gave her a lopsided, almost pitiable appearance; but in reality it made little difference to her weaponry.

They turned and crept into the shadows of the trees. For a long time nobody spoke. The moon set, and real darkness came on. Julian waited for Dr. Shanker to crack a joke, but instead he was silent. He seemed uncharacteristically subdued. After a long time Shanker said, quietly, “You’re a brave fellow, Carl.”

They continued into the forest, following the line of the cliff. When Julian glanced back for the last time he could see her still standing there, filling the center of the stony clearing, gazing at the place where they had disappeared.

The next morning the travelers increased their pace and rested only occasionally. All day there was no sign of Corla; Julian and Dr. Shanker had hopes that she’d lost their trail or wandered back to her home territory. Carl said nothing.

In the mid afternoon they came upon a circle of char, a few burnt bones scattered on the ground, and at the very edge of the circle, pressed into the soft ash, the clover-shaped footprint of a dog. Julian was ecstatic. It was the first indication that Yariko was still alive, and that Hilda was with her. He felt immensely better knowing Yariko wasn’t entirely alone. But Carl sniffed at the ashes and said they were at least a day old.

Far ahead, just visible on the horizon, a distinctive peak jutted out of a group of low hills. Carl said they would head for it. Julian nodded; it was the only obvious landmark in sight, and it would make a good base to search for Yariko. She might even make for the same point herself. It was probably an old volcano; but it could not have erupted in the past many years, judging by the patches of green clinging to the sides and the top.

“What, not prying its mouth open to see the teeth?” Dr. Shanker said as they chewed bits of the singed hind legs. “Feeling all right, Whitney?”

Julian looked down at the head and other less appetizing parts of the dismembered animal. He had never seen a skeleton of this type before; but strangely, the teeth seemed of remote importance. Nevertheless, he poked at the mouth with a stick and glanced at the dentition. “I’m not familiar with this pattern,” he said, and then dropped his stick and stood. “Shouldn’t we get moving again?”

The information was disheartening. More and more they’d been forced to make detours around sudden canyons or slopes of scree that made dangerous footing. After the smooth journey up the ancient river bed for so many miles, Julian felt as though they were crawling along, barely making progress.

Shanker stopped, causing Julian to stop behind him. “I was asking you, not him,” he said quietly, indicating Carl with his head. “We should talk more about where he’s taking us; make sure it’s the right direction.”

“We’re going west, and straight toward an obvious landmark, anyway,” Julian answered, in a normal voice. “It seems the likeliest way to catch up with Yariko. Besides, if there are any signs of her, he’ll find them. We’d probably miss them.”

Julian followed thoughtfully, pondering the terrain and what they might encounter. The high ground near the mountains was entirely unknown to modern paleontologists. The soil now under his feet was already eroding, washed away by mountain streams and weathered by the wind that blew down from the west. Fossilization under such conditions was nearly impossible. Sixty-five million years in the future, his colleagues would have little idea what types of plants or animals inhabited such dry, elevated areas. Everything Julian saw, however solid, bright green, or full of life, would disappear within a million years or so and leave no trace of its existence.

They walked perhaps another six hours, until the night was completely black. The moon was waning, rising later, providing light only in the second half of the night. There was one small alarm: Dr. Shanker was nipped on the toe of his shoe by a tiny creature. “Do I have tasty feet, or something?” he roared in exasperation as he stumbled. “Here, Whitney—I’ve got it on my spear. See what it is.”

When they stopped once more, Julian was glad of another fresh meal. He called their dinner Impalidus shankerensus. Carl warned that it might be their last fresh meat for some time; Julian grimaced at the thought of the dried, tasteless strips of meat that had been collecting dirt in the bottoms of their sacks.

They crouched around the fire. It was cooler at night out here than they were used to. Dr. Shanker inspected his ankle in the flickering light. “Excellent,” he said. “Healthy. Not absolutely gangrenous, anyway.” The truth lay somewhere in between; but he’d been walking more easily and the swelling was almost gone. “How much more of this scrambling over the rocks?” he asked.

There was little rest that night. Carl soon rose and led them on, under the crescent moon. The shadows of trees stretched black and crooked across the ground. Every time a branch stirred in the evening breeze its shadow would skitter over the stones like a pack of animals. Julian could hardly see Carl ahead, blending into the patchwork of black and gray, and even Dr. Shanker’s form directly in front took on the appearance of a bear, lumbering awkwardly. The strain of the hike was beginning to tell on Julian. He found himself jumping and starting at every sound and every movement.

“If we still had the gun. . . ,” Dr. Shanker muttered. His voice seemed to disappear into the blackness. Julian wished he would keep silent; he did not want any predators taking notice. “But I suppose,” Shanker went on, “our little piece would have been a rum weapon, to fight off a T. rex. Ever use a gun, Carl?”

For several days the three scrambled over the rocks, crawled through thickets of bushes, climbed down into gullies and out the other side. Sometimes the gullies were filled with lush vegetation taking root in the accumulated silt and mud. They used their spears to beat a way through these tangles of ferns and leaves. In the darkest part of the night just before dawn, when even Carl could not see enough to continue, they huddled under a thicket of bushes or trees and tried to keep warm.

In another age the travelers could have bowled over a big shaggy animal and taken its pelt; but they had to make do shivering under the leathery, hairless dinosaur ponchos. Julian knew it was not actually all that cold; but their time spent in the steamy swamp-lands made them sensitive to the dryer, cooler air of the hills. He found himself dreaming wistfully of giant sloths and wooly rhinoceroses.

Their food supply dwindled. Carl explained that the small prey animals usually stayed hidden in the dense foliage of the gullies, so they spent most of one day following a canyon to the north, far out of their direction, trying unsuccessfully to flush out dinner. In the evening they retraced their steps, but leaving the gully too soon became lost in a field of jumbled rock and thorn bushes. The sun went down; the light was too dim to make out the peak they were steering for. Carl called a halt until daylight.

It was a cold, shivery night. Julian’s stomach felt pinched; there’d been no food in nearly twenty-four hours. Dr. Shanker, to Julian’s envy, slept perfectly soundly. As usual, Carl disappeared for most of the night; he seemed to survive on almost no sleep. When Julian woke partway through the night, he saw Carl stretched out on the ground beside him, staring peacefully up at the stars.

When they woke Carl said he’d found a path that was relatively clear. It ran beside a low cliff that swept downward from the hills. Since it maintained a fairly straight westward course, their best option was to follow it. He had also found the tracks of a small herd of animals.

Dr. Shanker sat nearby, sharpening his spear on a stone. “I intend to kill one of them,” he announced. “Whatever they are. Even Triceratops.” He jabbed the point into the soft ground. “What do you think?”

Julian looked up at the gray lumps of rocks and the green of bushes tufting out of cracks here and there. Then something moved, and a few pebbles rattled down the cliff face. The animal was so much the color of soil and bushes that it was superbly camouflaged as long as it remained still.

It was a quadrupedal animal in the ceratopsian family, but it was quite small, about the size of a large dog. It watched the humans, cautious but not yet afraid; a few bits of shrub protruded from its beak-like mouth.

Then Dr. Shanker rifled his spear. The cast was impressive, but missed anyway. The point bounced off of a stone only a few feet away from the animal. Instantly, the creature scrambled away up the steep incline.

At the same time the whole cliff came to life. At least ten other animals leaped into motion. They bounded up the cliff and disappeared over the top, grunting and blowing. One of them, however, lost its footing and slid backward several yards. It seemed on the edge of regaining its balance; but then in a cascade of pebbles and dust, it plunged down the cliff, struck hard against several boulders along the way, and landed very nearly at Julian’s feet.

He dispatched the dying animal and they dragged the carcass into the shade of some nearby trees. It was so badly cut from the stones that it left a wide, bloody trail through the weeds and ferns. The whole place reeked of blood, and Dr. Shanker joked that if Hilda were nearby she would be sure to come running.

Carl said nothing. He had already started to skin the animal with his bone knife. While he and Dr. Shanker dressed the carcass, Julian gathered twigs and sticks for a fire. If they could smoke the meat they’d have enough for many days.