"Ian. You were talking about dinosaurs."
"Right. Dinosaurs. Anyway, during a hundred and fifty million years on this planet, dinosaurs were so successful that by the Cretaceous there were twenty-one major groups of them. A few groups, like the camarasaurs and fabrosaurs, had died out. But the overwhelming majority of dinosaur groups were still active throughout the Cretaceous. And then, suddenly, about sixty-five million years ago, every single group became extinct. And only the birds remained. So. The question is - What was that?"
"I thought you knew," Thorne said.
"No. I mean, what was that sound? Did you hear something?" "No," Thorne said.
"Stop the car," Malcolm said.
Thorne stopped the car, and clicked off the engine. They rolled down the windows and felt the still, midday heat. There was almost no breeze. They listened for a while.
Thorne shrugged. "I don't hear anything. What did you think you - "
"Sssh," Malcolm said. He cupped his hand to his ear and put his head out the window, listening intently. After a moment, he came back in. "I could have sworn I heard an engine."
"An engine? You mean an internal-combustion engine?"
"Right." He pointed to the east. "It sounded like it was coming from over there."
They listened again, and heard nothing.
Thorne shook his head. "I can't imagine a gas engine here, Ian. There's no gas to run one."
The radio clicked. "Dr. Malcolm?" It was Arby, in the trailer.
" Yes, Arby."
"Who else is here? On the island?"
"What do you mean?"
"Turn on your monitor."
Thorne flicked on the dashboard monitor. They saw a view from one of the security cameras. The view looked down into the narrow, steep east valley. They saw the slope of a hillside, dark beneath the trees. A tree branch blocked much of the frame. But the view was still, silent. There was no sign of activity.
"What did you see, Arby?"
"Just watch."
Through the leaves, Thorne saw a flash of khaki, then another. He realized it was a person, half-walking, half-sliding, down the steep jungle slope toward the floor below. Small compact frame, short dark hair.
"I'll be damned," Malcolm said, smiling.
"You know who that is?"
"Yes, of course. It's Sarah."
"Well, we better go get her." Thorne reached for the radio, pressed the button. "Richard," he said.
There was no answer.
"Richard? Are you reading?"
There was no answer.
Malcolm sighed. "Great. He's not answering. Probably decided to go for a walk. Pursuing his research…"
"That's what I'm afraid of," Thorne said. "Eddie, unhook the motorcycle and go see what Levine's doing now. Take a Lindstradt with you. We'll go pick up Sarah."
Trail
Levine followed the game trail, moving deeper into the darkness of the jungle. The parasaurs were somewhere up ahead, making a lot of noise as they crashed through the ferns and palms on the jungle floor. At least now he understood why they had formed into a single file: there was no other practical way to move through the dense growth of the rain forest.
Their vocalizations had never stopped, but Levine noticed they were taking on a different character - more high-pitched, more excited. He hurried forward, pushing past wet palm fronds taller than he was, following the beaten trail. As he listened to the cries of the animals ahead, he also began to notice a distinctive odor, pungent and sweet-sour. He had the feeling the odor was growing stronger.
But up ahead, something was happening, there was no doubt about it. The parasaur vocalizations were now clipped, almost barking sounds. He sensed in them an agitated quality. But what could agitate an animal twelve feet high and thirty feet long?
His curiosity overwhelmed him. Levine began to run through the jungle, shoving aside palms, leaping over fallen trees. In the foliage ahead, he heard a hissing sound, a sort of spattering, and then one of the parasaurs gave a long, low trumpeting cry.
Eddie Carr drove the motorcycle up to the high hide, and stopped. Levine was gone. He looked at the ground around the hide, and saw many deep animal footprints in the ground. The prints were large, about two feet in diameter, and they seemed to be going off into the jungle behind the hide.
He scanned the ground, and saw fresh bootmarks as well. They had an Asolo tread; he recognized them as Levine's. In some places the bootmarks disrupted the edge of the animal footprints, which meant that they had been made afterward. The bootmarks also led into the forest.
Eddie Carr swore. The last thing he wanted to do was to go into that jungle. The very idea gave him the creeps. But what choice was there?