Carnival of Time Page 3

  THE HONEYED RAYS OF MORNING SUNLIGHT slipped gently between the great trunks of the sequoia forest. Fading tendrils of morning mist flowed like little rivers in the shadows, and small animals scurried and squeaked under the moist ferns. At the base of a particularly gigantic tree, the sunlight shone on the remains of a small campfire. There were few signs of human presence around the fire, only a battered and dented cooking pot and a few faint footprints, but the sound of soft snoring could be heard coming from the base of the tree.

  Concealed by a curtain of sparse ferns and sheltered by one of the tree’s giant, overhanging roots, Caleb Owen slept. He was curled comfortably beneath the tattered remains of a once-beautiful quilt. The mud-stained cloth was pulled tight around him, revealing only his face and a bit of his frizzy, dusty blonde hair. His expression was one of complete relaxation, and despite the dirt smears and several days’ worth of stubble, he had a surprisingly youthful appearance. As the air warmed and a gentle breeze rocked the ferns, Caleb slowly began to mumble and stir.

  Across the clearing, his soft movements were echoed by another rustle. Half concealed by the masses of tall ferns and brush, a large, lean form shifted and settled in the shadows. After a moment of silence, the creature made a soft snorting, sniffing noise and slowly rose to its feet.

  The animal stood and stared around the clearing with golden, slit-pupiled eyes set in a huge, dark head. The skin was pebbled and scaly, with blackish-brown color around the eyes and continuing down the neck and onto the long snout. The fearsome face was crowned by three blunt horns, two small ones shadowing the brows and one great, blade-like horn topping its nose. The beast’s breath came in steaming puffs from a nightmarish mouth. The animal’s jaws seemed large enough to swallow a man in two or three bites, and the teeth were like rows of massive ivory knives, big enough to shame a great white shark. The massive, blocky head swiveled on a curved, muscular neck, and the animal began stepping slowly into the clearing.

  The sun played across the body of the beast revealing its powerful build, nearly twenty-three feet and more than a ton of crushing jaws, scaly skin and sweeping tail. It walked with its body held parallel to the ground, its tail swishing the air behind it and its head swinging back and forth in front, sniffing at the air. The dappled sunlight played across the rippling, leathery skin, accentuating the striking pattern of blackish stripes on lighter, rust-colored hide. The animal’s belly was a sort of creamy orange color, from the underside of the stripe-ringed tail to the chin of the panting mouth.

  The creature moved more quickly as it crossed the small, sunny clearing, blinking its golden eyes and twitching its small arms. Its powerful legs carried it smoothly across the ground, moving something like a bird, but giving an overall impression more like that of a stalking tiger. The animal strode into the shadows on the other side of the clearing, heading in a straight line for the tree under which Caleb still slept.

  A soft rumble emanated from the beast’s chest and a tiny string of spittle hung from its chin as it stared at the gentle rising and falling of Caleb’s breath. The striped tail tip twitched nervously for several minutes as the animal stared intently at Caleb through the ferns. Perhaps feeling the presence of the animal in his sleep, Caleb suddenly mumbled and rolled under his dirty quilt, kicking one foot out through the ferns. Almost instantly, the animal stepped forward and lunged at Caleb’s booted foot. Before he was even fully awake, the beast had grasped Caleb’s foot between butcher knife teeth and hauled him into the air. Caleb gasped and began to yell, but the beast dropped him in the dirt and leaned down toward his face. Just as Caleb coughed and tried to sit up, the animal opened its terrible jaws and shot out a great, glistening pink tongue. Caleb finally managed to yell as the drooling beast licked him vigorously across the face, chest and shoulders, soaking him in reeking, meat-scented saliva.

  “Chuck!” Caleb hollered. He spit furiously and scrambled to wipe the glop from his face. “Dammit, Chuck! Stop it... Sit, sit!”

  The dinosaur backed up a step and cocked its head at Caleb, looking more than a little hurt. Caleb continued to spit and wipe his face as he ran to his pack and fumbled for a canteen. As he rinsed off his face and hair he resumed his shouting.

  “Jeez, Chuck! What the hell? Why can’t you stop that? Oh crap, now I’m gonna’ stink like rotting meat for a week. Bad dino! Bad Chuck! No licking—Bad!” Caleb stopped when the canteen ran dry. He looked at the patched container angrily, then at Chuck. “You made me waste all that water you jerk,” he muttered. Chuck looked at him with wide, blinking eyes and an eagerly wagging tail, like a scolded dog hoping for forgiveness.

  “Yeah, yeah. Sad puppy, I know. Look, just forget it, okay? You’re a good girl, Chuck. Just no more licking, got it?”

  Chuck, seeming to sense that all was forgiven, padded forward and nudged Caleb gently with her nose, knocking him flat in the dirt. For a moment, she leaned forward as if to resume licking, but a stern look from Caleb halted her in mid-motion. Caleb’s frown quickly turned into a happy grin.

  “Good, Chuck. Good girl!” he said, patting her nose. “Now you just gotta’ work on those love taps.”

  Chuck rumbled happily and nudged Caleb again, knocking him back into the dirt, laughing.

  “Ok, stop, stop it girl,” he said, brushing the dirt off his patched and ragged clothing. “Let’s see what you brought for breakfast, huh?”

  Chuck’s eyes lit up at the sound of the familiar word “breakfast.” She spun in a circle, almost knocking Caleb down again with her muscular tail, then darted off into the bushes. After a moment of snorting and rooting about, Chuck trotted back into the clearing carrying the carcass of a small, graceful dinosaur. Its slender body was covered in delicate, pebbly scales and downy feathers. It was strikingly patterned with brown and bluish-gray stripes and a scattering of fine white spots.

  “Wow, Chuck. Good girl,” Caleb murmured. “That’s an Orodromeus makelai... one of the fast ones. How’d a big, loud girl like you sneak up on this little bugger? Guess you still got it, huh?”

  Chuck placed the seven-foot-long carcass gently on the ground near the fire. Caleb could clearly see the grisly wound that had brought the animal down. One leg lay at an unnatural angle, almost completely severed where Chuck had bitten through the thigh. Chuck’s patience, speed, and accuracy had provided well for the two of them for years, and once again, Caleb was thankful to have the imposing animal protecting and hunting for him, instead of simply hunting him. He drew an old hunting knife from his belt, well worn and sharpened to nearly two-thirds its original size. Carefully, he cut the meat of the intact leg until he had reached the hip joint, then he severed the tough sinews and took the leg to the fire.

  “Ok, Chuck. I got my drumstick. I’m gonna go get some firewood, so you can eat your part now. Enjoy.”

  Chuck watched for a moment to be sure Caleb had all he wanted, then began eating. Caleb began breaking some dry, dead branches from a large bush. He grimaced as the sound of snapping wood was echoed by the snapping of bones behind him. For the millionth time, he considered the feasibility of a vegetarian diet, then shrugged when he thought of the delicious taste of an orodromeus drumstick.

  .

  By mid-afternoon, Caleb and Chuck had left the campsite far behind. Chuck had quickly eaten the orodromeus, and the leftovers from the drumstick were salted and wrapped, packed away in Caleb’s supplies. They had been traveling steadily since a little before noon, with Caleb alternately walking beside Chuck or riding on the leather pack saddle he had made for her.

  The sun was slowly moving lower in the sky and the light had an increasingly golden cast to it. Caleb kept taking off his floppy, dirt-brown hat to fan himself and wipe sweat from his forehead. The air was still and oven-hot. Even in the dappled shadows of the sequoia trees it was quiet, with most of the animals resting in the darkest shadows. The bugs didn’t seem to mind the heat, though. They drifted through the air like windblown dust, only there was no wind, and this dust buzzed and
bit. Caleb was partially protected from bites by a mixture of herbs he had rubbed over his skin and clothes, and Chuck’s hide was generally too tough for most of the bugs, but they still kept itching and swatting.

  Caleb had been letting Chuck choose their course, since she could usually sniff out good water sources and hunting grounds. He hoped that they would soon find a nice stream or brook where they could cool off and set camp for the evening. He had refilled his empty canteen hours ago but it was almost empty again now, and they were both in need of a drink.

  Another half-hour of traveling brought them into lower, flatter terrain. The giant sequoia trees were few and far between now, replaced with a thicker growth of shorter, more wide-branching broadleaf trees like sumacs and ginkgoes, plus a few scrappy evergreens. Chuck paused at the edge of a large grassy clearing to stare hungrily at a herd of grazing pentaceratops, but slipped cautiously back into the trees when the sharp-horned beasts waved their brightly frilled heads in a threatening display. The two companions continued their slow march through the forest for a while longer, trying to ignore the heat and bugs.

  Chuck’s pace quickened several minutes before Caleb was able to hear the distant trickle of a stream. He felt cooler just thinking about that sweet water splashing across his itchy, dirty face. Soon, they broke through a line of lush foliage along the banks of the stream. Caleb leapt off of Chuck’s back and they stood together, splashing and drinking in the cool water. Caleb took the time to remove Chuck’s saddle and most of his clothes, then they both crashed into the middle of the stream, where the water was several feet deep. After an hour or so of wading, splashing and swimming, the two travelers lay resting on the bank, drying slowly in the sinking orange sunlight. Chuck dozed contentedly on her side, grunting and kicking as she chased a dream-orodromeus. Caleb leaned lazily against a sumac tree, gnawing on the leftovers of the drumstick.

  When Caleb was done resting, he set about building a small fire, poking around in the underbrush for some good deadwood. His search brought him down the bank of the river, and he kept gazing wistfully off into the pink and purple clouds in the west. Looking down to step carefully over an exposed root, Caleb froze in place, staring at the wide area of muddy bank ahead of him.

  There were tracks all through the mud, but Caleb was experienced enough to recognize that this was not just the normal watering hole traffic. He stepped closer to the tracks, looking now at the bent branches and broken saplings all around. Many of the trees and shrubs in the area were stripped of leaves, and the prints showed an eclectic mix of animals not typical in this terrain. Caleb recognized the prints of large sauropods and ceratopsids, as well as the lighter tracks of ornithomimosaurs and hypsilophodonts. Most striking, however, were the large wagon tracks, clearly being pulled by the larger dinosaurs. Scattered all throughout were the small, neat prints of leather boots and sandals. Caleb walked into the clearing, examining the various tracks carefully.

  “Guess a caravan came through here,” he mumbled. “Not too unusual... But I didn’t think there were much of any settlements in this area. Hmmm…” He bent down to look at one of the boot prints.

  It was particularly large and rather wide, but not nearly as long as a normal foot. Nearby, another set of prints revealed the mark of a handmade pair of sandals, but the toe prints extended well past the edge of the shoe. They were very long, almost finger-like, and had distinctive claw markings. Further along were a set of shoeless prints, but clearly not those of a normal dinosaur. They were long, with a distinct heel like a human foot, but there were only three long, clawed toes. Caleb’s brow crinkled in understanding.

  “That’s why they’re way the hell out in the middle of nowhere. It must be a whole caravan of dino-freaks.” He traced his finger along the contour of a barefooted print. It was small and delicate, rather feminine looking, but with the big toe raised up out of the mud, leaving only the faint scratch of a large claw tip.

  “Wow, must be some kind of Velociraptor-girl,” Caleb mused, sounding more awed than disturbed.

  “I guess I can’t blame ‘em for wanting to live out here by themselves,” he said thoughtfully. “I prefer being alone, myself. It’s hard enough dealing with other people, never mind if you happen to look like a lizard.”

  Caleb lingered at the clearing for a while longer, wondering what life would be like in a dino-caravan. What sort of songs did they sing? What did they eat? How did they sleep? Did they marry? Did they have live-born babies or did they lay eggs? Did they ever have normal babies? If so, how did they treat them?

  The forest was growing dark. Already, a few stars were visible in the sky overhead, and the whale-like evening songs of trumpeting hadrosaurs echoed through the cooling air. He had to go soon if he wanted to find his way back to Chuck that night.

  “Just forget about them,” he told himself quietly. “They didn’t come all the way out here to have some guy bother ‘em and ask stupid questions. If I see any more sign of them, I’m just gonna’ leave them alone. That’s what I’d want, if I were them.”

  Caleb turned and started walking out of the clearing. At the edge, he noticed a small pile of dry, cut wood that must have been left behind accidentally. Carefully picking up the discarded firewood, Caleb looked back over his shoulder at the footprints.

  “Thanks.”

  THE TYRANNOSAURUS STOOD WITH ITS FEET planted squarely in the mud and dirt, looking like it would launch itself into an earth-shaking charge at any moment. Its horrifying maw gaped wide open, displaying an arsenal of railroad-spike teeth, adorned with glistening spittle and crusted blood. The tiny eyes in its giant, blocky head gleamed dully in the brilliant sunset glow, promising death to any creature in its view.

  Caleb stared intently at the illustration, trying to absorb every detail, even though this beast, like every other dinosaur in the book, was as familiar as his own reflection.

  “You’re full of it,” Charlie declared. The heavy-built boy scowled in frustration at the illustration, looking much older than his ten years. “How come nobody else saw it?”

  “I was way out in the scrub,” Caleb explained half-heartedly. His attention was focused more on the book than on his friend. “There’s plenty of room for one T-rex out there.”

  “Come on. It’s a dinosaur,” Charlie persisted. “Somebody would have to notice it. And you said it left footprints, and roared real loud, and it was so big it made earthquakes! How could anyone miss it?”

  “It didn’t make real earthquakes,” Caleb mumbled distractedly. “It just rattled the ground a little. Besides, maybe plenty of people have seen it. Maybe I’m just the only one who didn’t get eaten.”

  Charlie fell silent after that, staring at the ivory teeth in the illustration.

  Caleb was focused now on the diagrams of footprints beside the illustration. They showed the shape and size of the prints and the stride, with a track of human prints for comparison. The tyrannosaur prints were just under three feet long and at least six feet apart.

  “This is exactly what I saw,” Caleb said, more to himself than to Charlie. “We should go back and get some casts of the prints. Then someone would believe me.”

  “What?” Charlie stuttered. This is a T-rex, remember? I’m too young to get eaten.”

  “Come on, Charlie,” Caleb said, looking up from his book with an expression of excitement. “We’ll be famous! Besides, it’s a big dinosaur, so it’ll have to travel pretty far to find enough food. It should be long gone by now.”

  “Yeah, right. Or maybe it’s just really hungry. Forget it.”

  “Wimp,” Caleb prodded.

  “Jerk,” Charlie countered.

  “Fine,” Caleb said, closing the book and getting up from his bedroom floor. “You stay here where it’s safe. I’m going to go down in history.” Caleb walked imperiously out of his room, clomping slowly down the stairs.

  “I bet you’ll wind up on the news,” Charlie yelled after him. “Boy Eaten by Dinosaur!”

  That eve
ning, the wind whipped and rattled the windows, wailing like some distant monster. Caleb sat at his desk surrounded by dinosaur books. Some of them were his; others belonged to his Uncle Bill. His uncle’s books had plenty of good information, but all the best illustrations were in Caleb’s books. He had his favorite laying open on the desk, once again open to the illustration of the tyrannosaurus. The reptilian eyes and ragged fangs seemed to tempt and mock him with a mix of wonder and horror. Caleb had not gone back to the tracks by himself. He told himself that it was too cold to go out today, but it had actually been colder yesterday.

  “Wimp,” he whispered to himself.

  Outside, the wind wailed and hammered at the windows. It sounded like an angry dinosaur. Caleb looked at his reflection in the window, seeing a tiny, scared nine-year-old. He turned away, embarrassed by his fear. Although he was only nine (almost ten, with his birthday only two months away), Caleb was shockingly intelligent. He had read several of his uncle’s paleontology texts, and, much to his aunt Carol’s amazement; he had actually understood most of them. Caleb’s understanding of biology, ecology, and animal behavior was far beyond that of most adults. When his Uncle Bill returned from digs (like the one he was at now), he would spend hours telling Caleb all about his new ideas and discoveries, and Caleb understood it all. Although Caleb’s aunt was an intelligent woman, an accomplished geologist and botanist, she simply didn’t have Caleb’s intuitive understanding of natural things.

  This unusual level of intelligence and awareness, when it conflicted with his lack of experience and confidence as it did now, was often a source of intense frustration for Caleb. He looked once more at the mocking leer of the tyrannosaur, then flipped the book shut and walked out of the room.

  Downstairs, Aunt Carol was sitting in her study, talking on the phone with a far away relative and slowly sipping from a cup of tea. The sound of her quiet chuckles and the faint odor of warm tea relaxed Caleb’s nerves. He walked quietly past the study and into the warmly lit living room. A small fire was crackling in the fireplace. Caleb grabbed one of his newer comic books and settled comfortably on the rug to read, enjoying the way the flickering flames seemed to make the pictures ripple and move. The wind continued to blow and rattle against the windows, but seemed quieter now that Caleb was surrounded by the sounds of his aunt’s voice and the crackling flames.