فصل 19

CHAPTER 19

“You need to shoot dinner, or we’re going to be eating dinosaur jerky tonight,” Todd said as the light around us started to turn into the orangey-red tones that I now associated with sunset. I shuddered as I thought about the brown strips of hard meat Todd had made each of us pack when we swapped supplies at Adler’s.

“Why can’t you shoot it?” Shawn asked as his stomach rumbled audibly.

“Because I don’t need the practice,” Todd said. He had a point, so Shawn and I both started looking for something we could shoot. But I felt a little ill at the idea of killing any of the squirrels or foxes we’d seen scampering about the underbrush. They were all so beautiful and vibrant that I couldn’t picture eating one. The problem was that as the tree cover thinned out, so did the animals. The woods had an almost eerie silence to them. Apparently the animals knew something we didn’t and made their homes elsewhere.

The terrain had changed as we entered an area that had been more inhabited. It had been easy to forget that the ground we walked over used to be populated with hundreds and thousands of people when we were surrounded by thick trees. Now the ghosts of the past were not so easily ignored. I stopped to inspect a crumbling brick wall. It had been decorative once, but time and passing dinosaurs had collapsed huge sections of it. A metal plaque had fallen off the front and now lay half buried in the dirt. Curious, I bent and pulled it out. White Oak Estates was etched elegantly into its surface. A piece of the sign crumbled in my hand, leaving orange flecks of rust all over the arm of my tunic. I dropped it and stood, brushing myself off.

“I’m pretty sure this area used to be called the suburbs,” Todd said, and then frowned. “Or was it the urbsubs?” He shook his head. “I can’t remember. But the point is that lots of people used to live close together.” Shawn walked up to stand beside Todd, looking around himself with interest. “How can you tell?”

“Look at the trees.” Todd pointed. “See how the big ones all seem to grow in rows? They planted them to border the streets.” I walked up beside him and saw that he was right: straight lines of trees mapped out the memory of roads, creating a green tunnel of leaves and branches for us to pass through. As we walked, I noticed that every thirty feet or so there was a perfectly square or rectangular space where small weeds and bushes grew out of the crumbling remains of concrete. That’s where the houses used to be, I realized. I sucked in a breath as I looked out at the seemingly endless miles of trees and patches of ruined foundations. It was one thing to read about the billions of people who had died; it was another thing entirely to see the aftereffects in person.

I followed Todd and Shawn down what used to be the suburb’s streets. Every now and then we’d come across a house that wasn’t completely destroyed. These were creepier than the ruined foundations, and I shivered as their empty, windowless eyes watched us pass. I couldn’t imagine what this place had looked like right after the takeover. It must have been a nightmare of dead bodies and ruined buildings. Nature had reclaimed most of it now, turning the remaining buildings into crumbling memorials for a civilization foolish enough to bring its own downfall out of extinction.

After another thirty minutes of walking, we stopped to refill our water supply in a stream that ran past an abandoned barn. The hulking relic had faded red paint and one of its walls had caved in, giving it a lopsided and forlorn appearance. I shut my eyes and tried to imagine what it had looked like a hundred and fifty years ago. Back when its paint had been a bright red, its roof whole, and its surrounding field filled with cows and sheep. I opened my eyes when I realized that I didn’t really remember what a cow looked like. Were they the ones with the long mane and tail, or was that the horse? Or maybe I was thinking of a goat? I’d spent all my time researching the dinosaurs and hadn’t spent much time on the extinct animals that used to populate the earth.

Just then, a loud chirping squawk emanated from the barn. Todd whirled, drawing his bow in one fluid motion. Shawn and I pulled our own bowstrings back, much less gracefully. I noticed with a twinge of smugness that I’d been a hair faster than Shawn on the draw. The squawk came again as a herd of armored dinosaurs came snuffling out of the crumbling remains. Their black eyes roved over the clearing and over us; their blue-green scales winked and glimmered, iridescent in the sunlight.

“Don’t shoot,” Todd breathed. “No sudden movements.”

“Why?” I asked, my arm quivering with the strain of the drawn bow.

“See those armored plates covering every square inch of them? Our arrows don’t have a prayer of penetrating them,” Todd growled through gritted teeth. He lowered his bow, and I did the same. Shawn still had his drawn. “You’ll just tick them off, and they’ll trample us,” Todd explained.

“What if they attack?” Shawn whispered.

Todd glanced at Shawn’s tense form and cocked an amused eyebrow. “Run.”

Shawn scowled.

Todd rolled his eyes. “They’re plant eaters, not meat eaters. They won’t mess with us if we don’t mess with them. Just don’t spook them.” Shawn finally lowered his bow.

A few were babies, small by dinosaur standards, just a little shorter than me, as they trotted along in a tight bundle behind their mother. She was more concerned about us than the rest of the herd, and she raised her head, sniffing the air. I wondered if she could smell our fear; after all that hiking, I knew we certainly smelled bad. She hesitated as the rest of the herd ambled off into the trees, watching us with her intelligent eyes. Like the rest of the pack, she had a large armored ball on the end of her tail, and every inch of her was covered in sharp edges and angles. After a few tense moments, she seemed satisfied that we weren’t a threat and gave a derisive snort.

I watched her walk away toward the rapidly setting sun. Would I always be enamored with the outside world, I wondered, or would my wide-eyed wonder eventually wear off? The mama dinosaur looked so at home here as the pinks and oranges glinted off the armored plates running down her back. She belonged here—maybe as much, if not more, than we did. Nature had erased the world that humans had built, and this was her world now. I wondered if that thought made me a traitor to the human race. I hoped not.

“Sky?” Todd said, and I realized that he’d been talking to me for a while. I shook my head to clear it.

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you wanted me to get dinner, or if you were going to shoot it yourself?”

“Dinner?” I asked stupidly. “I thought we couldn’t shoot those things?” He rolled his eyes in exasperation and pointed up at a tree branch thirty feet above our heads. I looked up and spotted what I originally thought was a bird, glaring down at us. But as I peered up at it in the fading light, I realized that it was no bird.

“What is it?” I asked Todd.

“A Four-Wing Glider,” Todd said. “They hunt at night by gliding down and grabbing lizards and other small dinosaurs.” “Four wings?” Shawn asked.

“And four massive claws,” Todd said. “They can’t actually fly. They use those claws to climb up the trees and then glide down onto prey.” I studied the strange creature. “It must be a microraptor.”

“Oh good, a flying lizard,” Shawn said drily, “just what I was hoping to have for dinner.”

“Whatever,” Todd said. “They taste really good. So will one of you shoot it?”

I carefully raised my bow, took aim, and froze. The microraptor cocked its head at us, and ruffled its green-and-black feathers. I dropped my bow.

“I can’t do it,” I said quietly. “I don’t want to kill it.”

“Lucky for us, I don’t have that problem,” Shawn said, and he raised his bow, took aim, and missed by about two feet. The raptor raised its four massive wings, but before it could escape, Todd had whipped his bow up and shot. His arrow buried itself with a thunk in its feathered side.

The birdlike reptile squawked and pinwheeled down to the ground, where it flapped awkwardly until Todd wrung its neck in one deft movement. The sight of the limp body made me feel nauseous.

“We’ll set up camp here,” Todd said, dropping his pack next to the base of a gigantic tree at the edge of the clearing.

“Aren’t we a bit exposed?” I asked, glancing around at the shadowed forest nervously.

“We are,” Todd admitted. “But the closer we get to the lake, the more exposed we are going to be. We should be fine if we get up a tree before full dark hits.” He glanced over at Shawn. “Do you want to start the fire or dress the glider?” “Dress the glider?” Shawn asked, looking uncomfortable. “Like in clothes?” Todd gave him an odd look, and then sighed. “Let me guess. You have no clue how to do either of those things?” Shawn looked like he was debating hitting Todd, so I quickly stepped between the two.

“No, he doesn’t,” I said. “Neither of us knows how. But I bet you have no idea how to fix a grow light or make a flashlight completely from scraps.” Todd rolled his eyes and flapped an impatient hand at Shawn. “Just grab some dry sticks, and I’ll show you how to start a fire. I’m too hungry to let you screw up dinner.” “Fine,” Shawn said grudgingly. Soon we had a roaring fire, and I sat beside it and updated my journal while Todd prepped the raptor for roasting. It turned out that that was what he had meant by dressing it. His practiced fingers ripped handfuls of feathers out, revealing the pimply pink skin underneath. I went to run my hand through my hair, but my fingers got stuck in the tangled, sweaty mass. The smell of dirt and sweat wafting off my clothing hit me, and I cringed. I was disgusting.

“I’m going to walk down the creek a little ways,” I said, jumping to my feet and brushing at the smudges of dirt that stained my pants and tunic. “I want to clean up a bit.” “Take your bow,” Todd cautioned without looking up. Shawn stopped collecting firewood to give me a questioning look. “We don’t want a repeat of the last time you wandered off on your own.” “Be nice to Todd,” I mouthed at Shawn. He stuck his tongue out at me and went to gather more sticks for the fire. I wasn’t going far. I’d learned my lesson earlier and had no desire to repeat the near-death experience. Grabbing my bow, quiver of arrows, and the rough brown soap I’d gotten from Adler’s, I turned and followed the stream into the woods. A few yards in, I pulled off my boots and set them down beside a tree before I stepped into the water. It felt amazing on my raw and blistered feet. I walked down the shallow creek bed, relishing the cool stones beneath my toes.

Coming around a corner of the stream, I found a small pond, its surface so smooth that the sunset reflected perfectly off it. Glancing back, I could just make out Todd and Shawn through the trees. Reassured, I rolled up my sleeves and splashed some of the water over my arms and face. It ran down my palms in dirty rivulets, and suddenly, it wasn’t enough. I was filthy, the sweat and dirt a second scaly skin that I wanted to rip off.

Not giving myself the opportunity to change my mind, I set my bow on the bank of the stream and lowered myself down into the pond’s cool depths. The water came up only to my chest and, fully clothed, I submerged myself, scrubbing at my arms and face with the gritty soap. It felt wonderful.

A far-off rumble startled me, and I yelped, yanking my knife out of its sheath. I cursed the stupidity of leaving my bow onshore. Over the tops of the trees, I could see three large heads on top of thickly muscled necks making their leisurely way toward me. My insides relaxed fractionally; they weren’t carnivores. Deciding not to risk the run to shore, I sank down into the water, hoping that it would hide me. The dinosaurs emerged moments later, their massive shoulders turning the branches and foliage into green confetti. I slid backward in the water as they lowered their massive heads to the pond’s surface and drank. Their eyes were a soft brown, and they blinked at me, probably wondering what kind of strange fish I might be.

They were beautiful. These were probably brachiosaur, based off the long curved neck, but my research hadn’t done them justice. Their skin was slick and had an iridescent quality that flickered and changed as they moved, making them blend with the shadows of the forest. The largest one blew out hard through its nose, sending water showering down around my head. They made low guttural sounds that echoed across the water, and I realized they were talking to one another.

A tree branch snapped behind me, and I turned to see Shawn and Todd standing on the shore behind me, their bows in hand. I shot them a look that I hoped said don’t move, stupid. We sat like that, frozen as the gentle giants continued to drink. I realized for the first time just how cold the water actually was and started to shiver. When they finally raised their giant heads and moved off in the direction they’d come from, I exhaled in relief.

“You just gave me a heart attack! Are you nuts?” Shawn hissed.

“No,” I snapped back. “I was filthy.”

“Heart attack,” Todd said. “That’s the second time you two have said that. Is that really a thing? What exactly is attacking your heart?” “I’ll explain in a second,” I said through chattering teeth. “I want to get out of here first.”

“You’re going to get sick,” Todd said. “There’s a reason why people don’t bathe in ponds in September.”

The sky was getting dark, and my bright idea to take a bath now seemed incredibly stupid. I sloshed up out of the water and stood in front of the boys, shivering.

“Wait here,” Todd said, sounding irritated, and he crashed back through the trees. He returned a moment later with a blanket and thrust it at me. “Go behind those trees and get out of those. We can dry them on the fire.” Doing as I was told, I wrapped the huge blanket around myself before following the boys back to our camp. I sank down, letting the warmth of the crackling campfire work its way into my bones. Todd turned the spit that was roasting the raptor, and I felt a pang of guilt that it had to die. Like the brachiosaur, it had been beautiful in its own way. Shawn was still scowling at me. Finally, I gave up pretending I didn’t notice and turned to face him.

“Don’t give me that look, Shawn Reilly. I haven’t felt clean since I left the compound.”

“You’ll be nice and clean when you catch pneumonia,” Shawn griped. “If you die from this stupid stunt, I’m going to be furious.” I grinned. “Thanks for caring.” Shawn pulled a face at me and bit off a piece of the raptor leg Todd offered him.

“Your clothes should by dry soon,” Todd said. “You’ll want them for climbing.”

“Climbing?”

“Tree pods?” Todd prompted impatiently. “The only way to sleep out here without getting eaten. Remember?”

“How soon do we need to get into them?” I asked. As if on cue, the scream of an animal came from the woods to our left. I stiffened, but the cry was miles away.

“Soon,” Todd answered, ripping into his second piece of meat, the grease running down his chin. I had just enough time to sketch a picture of the brachiosaur from the pond before we were kicking dirt over our fire. I hurried behind some bushes and scrambled back into my fire-warmed clothes. They were still stained, but they smelled like the campfire instead of sweat, which was a definite improvement.

Todd showed us how to unroll the dark brown canvases we’d been carrying. The edges were threaded with a sturdy rope. We were to tie the rope to tree branches once we were high enough, and somehow sleep in the contraptions. I welcomed the distraction of untangling knots and coils of rope. My nerves were on edge as the darkness of the forest pressed in around us, and the growls and snarls from the woods grew more frequent.

Finally satisfied that we were ready, Todd began expertly climbing up the gigantic maple tree we’d had our campfire under, the remains of the raptor safely tucked away in his pack. I followed, carefully placing my hands and feet exactly where Todd placed his. Soon we were fifty feet up. Todd motioned for us to keep quiet and silently demonstrated how the loops and hooks of the tree pod worked to attach it to the tree.

Soon he had a sort of closed hammock. He expertly wriggled into his, sending the pod swaying gently back and forth, suspended above nothingness. He did not reemerge. Clearly this was our cue to hang our own. I cautiously crept to the opposite side of the tree and began to clumsily hang my own pod. Each branch I tied it to got a thorough yank to make sure it would hold my weight. The thought of falling fifty feet in my sleep was not an appealing one. When I was finished, I squirmed ungracefully into my pod. The fabric closed tight above my head as my weight pulled its edges together. I squeezed my eyes shut as it swayed back and forth over empty air. The space was close and the musty smell of old fabric was overwhelming. But as my breathing relaxed, I realized that the pod was warming up, my breath creating a pocket of heat. Using my pack as a pillow, I rolled onto my side, sending the whole pod swinging again. This would take some getting used to.

I listened to Shawn hanging his pod somewhere to my left and slightly below my own. I had to smile as he muttered and fussed at the stubborn fabric. Taking pity on my best friend, I climbed out and crept through the dark tree to help.

“I don’t need help,” he said as I took a stubborn knot of canvas out of his hands. “I can figure it out.”

I pulled gently at the snarl. “I know you could.”

Shawn frowned, and I could tell by his posture that he was upset, even though he was nothing more than a dark outline now against the ever-darkening sky.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“Shawn, spill it.”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, and I didn’t pressure him. We were almost done hanging his tree pod when he broke the silence, his voice barely audible above the night noises of the forest. “I just hate it up here.” “In the tree?”

“No, topside,” Shawn said. “I feel useless. Everything I thought I knew is turned all upside down and inside out. I had this grand idea that I would come along on your big dumb adventure to keep you safe and to talk some sense into you. But so far all I’ve witnessed is you almost getting eaten by multiple dinosaurs while I bumble around like an idiot. I hate it. I’m starting to wonder if you were right, if it would have been better for me to just stay underground.” I took his chin in my hand, forcing him to look up. “You aren’t useless,” I said. “At least no more useless than I’ve been. And I was wrong before.” “Sky Mundy wrong? Never.” He smirked, and I smiled back, relieved. I wasn’t sure how to handle a serious Shawn.

“You might want to document this, because it’s never going to happen again. But I was wrong. I’m glad you came with. I couldn’t have made it this far without you.” “Could too,” he grumbled. “But I appreciate you lying to make me feel better. I just wish . . . I don’t know. I wish I knew what Todd knew.” “You know what Shawn knows,” I said. “And we can learn what Todd knows.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. I also say we need to go to bed. All that fault admitting wore me out.”

“Really? I would have thought it was all that horrible hiking we did today, or the multiple near-death experiences, or the humidity, or . . .” I laughed and held up a hand to cut him off.

“I get it. Topside is a bit more than we bargained for. We’ll get used to it, though. I promise.” He still looked unconvinced, and I had a feeling there was something else bothering him. I didn’t push him, though. I knew my best friend well enough to know that he would tell me when he was ready. Shawn crawled into his newly hung pod, and I heard him mutter something incoherent as it swung through the air. I smiled.

“Good night, Shawn.”

“Night” came the muffled reply.

I crept back into my own pod and pulled off my boots. If it wasn’t for Shawn selling his mom’s music box, I might still be walking around in those useless compound slippers. I made a mental note to point that out to him in the morning. I’d never properly thanked him for sacrificing it. If the situation were reversed, would I have been able to hand over my dad’s compass for a pair of boots? Shawn Reilly might be a better person than me, I decided. Not that I’d ever tell him that. I’d never hear the end of it. Smiling, I settled down in my pod again, letting the sounds of the night swirl around me as I fell asleep.