Over the radio, they heard the hum of the bike. Then they heard another sound, which might have been an animal snarl, and might have been more static. Thorne bent forward, holding the radio close to his ear. Then, abruptly, the radio clicked and was silent. He said, "Sarah?"
There was no answer.
"Maybe she turned it off," Levine said.
Thorne shook his head. "Sarah?"
Nothing.
"Sarah? Are you there?"
They waited.
Nothing.
"Hell," Thorne said.
Time passed slowly, Levine stood by the window, staring out. Kelly was snoring in a corner. Arby lay next to Malcolm, fast asleep. And Malcolm was humming tunelessly.
Thorne sat on the floor in the center of the room, leaning back against the checkout Counter. Every so often, he'd pick up the radio and try to call Sarah, but there was never any answer. He tried all six channels. There was no answer on any of them.
Eventually he stopped trying.
The radio crackled. " - ate these damned things. Never work right." A grunt. "Can't figure out what - things - damn."
Across the room, Levine sat forward.
Thorne grabbed the radio. "Sarah? Sarah?"
"Finally," she said, her voice crackling. "Where the hell have you been, Doc?"
"Are you all right?"
"Of course I'm all right."
"There's something wrong with your radio. You're breaking up."
"Yeah? What should I do?"
"Try screwing down the cover on your battery pack. It's probably loose."
"No. I mean, what should I do about the car?"
Thorne said, "What?"
"I'm at the car, Doc, I'm there. What should I do?"
Levine glanced at his watch. "Twenty minutes until the helicopter arrives, " he said. "You know, she just might make it."
Dodgson
Dodgson awoke, aching and stiff, on the floor of the concrete utility shed. He got to his feet, and looked out the window. He saw streaks of red in a pale-blue sky. He opened the door to the utility shed, and went outside.
He was very thirsty, and his body was sore. He started walking beneath the canopy of trees. The 'tingle around him was silent in the early morning. He needed water. More than anything, he needed water. Somewhere off to his left, he heard the soft gurgle of a stream. He headed toward it, moving more quickly.
Through the trees, he could see the sky growing lighter. He knew that Malcolm and his party were still here. They must have some plan to get off the island. If they could get off, he could too.
He came over a low rise, and looked down at a gully and a flowing stream. It looked clear. He hurried down toward it, wondering if it was polluted. He decided he didn't care. Just before he reached the stream, he tripped over a vine and fell, swearing.
He got to his feet, and looked back. Then he saw it wasn't a vine he had tripped over.
It was the strap of a green backpack.
Dodgson tugged at the strap, and the whole backpack slid out of the foliage. The pack had been torn apart, and it was crusty with dried blood. As he pulled it, the contents clattered out among the ferns. Flies were buzzing everywhere. But he saw a camera, a metal case for food, and a plastic water bottle. He searched quickly through the surrounding ferns. But he didn't find much else, except some soggy candy bars.
Dodgson drank the water, and then realized he was very hungry. He popped open the metal case, hoping for some decent food. But the case didn't contain food. It was filled with foam packing.
And in the center of the packing was a radio.
He flicked it on. The battery light glowed strongly. He flicked from one channel to another, hearing static.
Then a man's voice. "Sarah? This is Thorne. Sarah."
After a moment, a woman's voice: "Doc. Did you hear me? I said, I'm at the car."
Dodgson listened, and smiled.
So there was a car.
In the store, Thorne held the radio close to his cheek. "Okay," he said.
Sarah? Listen carefully. Get in the car, and do exactly what I tell you."
"Okay fine," she said. "But tell me first. Is Levine there?"
"He's here."
The radio clicked. She said, "Ask him if there's any danger from a green dinosaur that's about six feet tall and has a domed forehead."
Levine nodded. "Tell her yes. They're called pachycephalosaurs."
"He says yes," Thorne said. "They're pachycephalo-somethings, and you should be careful. Why?"
"Because there's about fifty of them, all around the car."
Explorer