The Lost World (21 page)

"
This is going extremely well," Levine said, rubbing his hands together. "Far beyond my expectations, I must say. I couldn't be more pleased."

He was standing in the high hide with Thorne, Eddie, Malcolm, and the kids, looking down on the valley floor below. Everyone was sweating inside the little observation hut; the midday air was still and hot. Around them, the grassy meadow was deserted; most of the dinosaurs had moved beneath the trees, into the cool of the shade.

The exception was the herd of apatosaurs, which had left the trees to return to the river, where they were now drinking once again. The huge animals clustered fairly tightly around the water's edge. In the same vicinity, but more spread out, were the high-crested parasaurolophasaurs; these somewhat smaller dinosaurs positioned themselves near the apatosaur herd.

Thorne wiped sweat out of his eyes and said, "Why, exactly, are you pleased?"

"Because of what we're seeing here," Malcolm said. He glanced at his watch, and wrote an entry in his notebook. "We're getting the data that I hoped for. It's very exciting."

Thorne yawned, sleepy in the heat. "'Why is it exciting? The dinosaurs are drinking. What's the big deal?"

"Drinking again," Levine corrected him. "For the second time in an hour. At midday. Such fluid intake is highly suggestive of the thermoregulatory strategies these large creatures employ."

"You mean they drink a lot to stay cool," Thorne said, always impatient with jargon.

"Yes. Clearly they do. Drink a lot. But in my view, their return to the river may have another significance entirely."

"Which is?"

"Come, come," Levine said, pointing. "Look at the herds. Look how they are arranged spatially. We are seeing something that no one has witnessed before, or even suspected, for dinosaurs. We're seeing nothing less than inter-species symbiosis."

"We are?"

Yes," Levine said. "The apatosaurs and the parasaurs are together. I saw them together yesterday, too. I'll bet that they're always together, when they're out on the open plain. Undoubtedly you are wondering why."

"Undoubtedly," Thorne said.

"The reason," Levine said, "is that the apatosaurs are very strong but weak-sighted, whereas the parasaurs are smaller, but have very sharp vision. So the two species stay together because they provide a mutual defense. just the way zebras and baboons stay together on the African plain. Zebras have a good sense of smell, and baboons have good eyesight. Together they're more effective against predators than either is alone."

"And you think this is true of the dinosaurs because…"

"It's rather obvious," Levine said. "Just look at the behavior. When the two herds were alone, each clustered tightly among themselves. But when they're together, the parasaurs spread out, abandoning their former herd arrangement, to form an outer ring around the apatosaurs. Just as you see them now. That can only mean that individual paras are going to be protected by the apatosaur herd. And vice versa. It can only be a mutual predator defense."

As they watched, one of the parasaurs lifted its head, and stared across the river. It honked mournfully, a long musical sound. All the other parasaurs looked up and stared, too. The apatosaurs continued to drink at the river, although one or two adults raised their long necks.

In the midday heat, insects buzzed around them, Thorne said, "So where are the predators?"

"Right there," Malcolm said, pointing toward a stand of trees on the other side of the river, not far from the water.

Thorne looked, and saw nothing.

"Don't you see them?"

"No."

"Keep looking. They're small, lizard-like animals. Dark brown. Raptors," he said.

Thorne shrugged. He still saw nothing. Standing beside him, Levine began to eat a power bar. Preoccupied with holding the binoculars, he dropped the wrapper on the floor of the hide. Bits of paper fluttered to the ground below.

"How are those things?" Arby said.

"Okay. A little sugary."

"Got any more?" he said.

Levine rummaged in his pockets and gave him one. Arby broke it in half, and gave half to Kelly. He began to unwrap his half, carefully folding the paper, putting it neatly in his pocket.

"You realize this is all highly significant," Malcolm said. "For the question of extinction. Already it's obvious that the extinction of the dinosaurs is a far more complex problem than anyone has recognized."

"It is?" Arby said.

"Well, consider," Malcolm said. "All extinction theories are based on the fossil record. But the fossil record doesn't show the sort of behavior we're seeing here. It doesn't record the complexity of groups interacting."

"Because fossils are just bones," Arby said.

"Right. And bones are not behavior. When you think about it, the fossil record is like a series of photographs: frozen moments from what is really a moving, ongoing reality. Looking at the fossil record is like thumbing through a family photo album. You know that the album isn't complete. You know life happens between the pictures. But you don't have any record of what happens in between, you only have the pictures. So you study them, and study them. And pretty soon, you begin to think of the album not as a series of moments, but as reality itself. And you begin to explain everything in terms of the album, and you forget the underlying reality.

"And the tendency," Malcolm said, "has been to think in terms of physical events. To assume that some external physical event caused the extinctions. A meteor hits the earth, and changes the weather. Or volcanoes erupt, and change the weather. Or a meteor causes the volcanoes to erupt and change the weather. Or vegetation changes, and species starve and become extinct. Or a new disease arises, and species become extinct. Or a new plant arises, and poisons all the dinosaurs. In every case, what is imagined is some external event. But what nobody imagines is that the animals themselves might have changed-not in their bones, but their behavior. Yet when you look at animals like these, and see how intricately their behavior is interrelated, you realize that a change in group behavior could easily lead to extinction."

"But why would group behavior change?" Thorne said. "If there wasn't some external catastrophe to force it, why should the behaviour change?"

"Actually," Malcolm said, "behavior is always changing, all the time. Our planet is a dynamic, active environment. Weather is changing. The land is changing. Continents drift. Oceans rise and fall. Mountains thrust up and erode away. All the organisms on the planet are constantly adapting to those changes. The best organisms are the ones that can adapt most rapidly. That's why it's hard to see how a catastrophe that produces a large change could cause extinction, since so much change is occurring all the time, anyway."

"In that case," Thorne said, "what causes extinction?"

"Certainly not rapid change alone," Malcolm said. "The facts tell us that clearly."

"What facts?"

"After every major environmental change, a wave of extinctions as usually followed-but not right away. Extinctions only occur thousands, or millions of years later. Take the last glaciation in North America. The glaciers descended, the climate changed severely, but animals didn't die. Only after the glaciers receded, when you'd think things would go back to normal, did lots of species become extinct. That's when giraffes and tigers and mammoths vanished on this continent. And that's the usual pattern. It's almost as if species are weakened by the major change, but die off later. It's a well-recognized phenomenon."

"It's called Softening Up the Beachhead," Levine said. "And what's the explanation for it?"

Levine was silent.

"There is none" Malcolm said. "It's a paleontological mystery. But I believe that complexity theory has a lot to tell us about it. Because if the notion of life at the edge of chaos is true, then major change pushes animals closer to the edge. It destabilizes all sorts of behavior. And when the environment goes back to normal, it's not really a return to normal. In evolutionary terms, it's another big change, and it's just too much to keep up with. I believe that new behavior in populations can emerge in unexpected ways, and I think I know why the dinosaurs - "

"What's that?" Thorne said.

Thorne was looking at the trees, and saw a single dinosaur hop out into view. It was rather slender, agile on its hind legs, balancing with a stiff tail. It was six feet tall, green-brown with dark-red stripes, like a tiger.

"That," Malcolm said, "is a velociraptor."

Thorne turned to Levine. "That's what chased you up in the tree? It looks ugly."

"Efficient," Levine said. "Those animals are brilliantly constructed killing machines. Arguably the most efficient predators in the history of the planet. The one that just stepped out will be the alpha animal. It leads the pack."

Thorne saw other movement beneath the trees. "There's more."

"Oh yes," Levine said. "This particular pack is very large." He picked up binoculars, and peered through them. "I'd like to locate their nest, he said. "I haven't been able to find it anywhere on the island. Of course they're secretive, but even so…"

The parasaurs were all crying loudly, moving closer to the apatosaur herd as they did so. But the big apatosaurs seemed relatively indifferent; the adults nearest the water actually turned their backs to the approaching raptor.

"Don't they care?" Arby said. "They're not even looking at him,"

"Don't be fooled," Levine said, "the apatosaurs care very much. They may look like gigantic cows, but they're nothing of the sort. Those whiptails are thirty or forty feet long, and weigh several tons. Notice how fast they can swing them. One smack from those tails would snap an attacker's back."

"So turning away is part of their defense?"

"Unquestionably, yes. And you can see now how the long necks balance their tails."

The tails of the adults were so long, they reached entirely across the river, to the other shore. As they swung back and forth, and the parasaurs cried out, the lead raptor turned away. Moments later, the entire pack began to slink off, following the edge of the trees, heading up into the hills.

"Looks like you're right," Thorne said. "The tails scared them off."

"How many do you count?" Levine said.

"I don't know. Ten. No, wait - fourteen. Maybe more. I might have missed a few."

"Fourteen." Malcolm scribbled in his notebook.

"You want to follow them?" Levine said.

"Not now."

"We could take the Explorer."

"Maybe later," Malcolm said.

"I think we need to know where their nest is," Levine said. "It's essential, Ian, if we're going to settle predator-prey relationships. Nothing is more important than that. And this is a perfect opportunity to follow - "

"Maybe later," Malcolm said. He checked his watch again.

"That's the hundredth time you've checked your watch today," Thorne said.

Malcolm shrugged. "Getting to be lunchtime," he said. "By the way, what about Sarah? Shouldn't she be arriving soon?"

"Yes. I imagine she'll show up any time now," Thorne said.

Malcolm wiped his forehead. "It's hot up here."

"Yes, it's hot."

They listened to the buzzing of insects in the midday sun, and watched the raptors retreat.

"You know, I'm thinking," Malcolm said. "Maybe we ought to go back."

"Go back?" Levine said. "Now? What about our observations? What about the other cameras we want to place and - "

"I don't know, maybe it'd be good to take a break."

Levine stared at him in disbelief. He said nothing.

Thorne and the kids looked at Malcolm silently.

"Well, it seems to me," Malcolm said, "that if Sarah's coming all the way from Africa, we should be there to greet her." He shrugged. "I think it's simple politeness."

Thorne said, "I didn't realize that, uh…"

"No, no," Malcolm said quickly. "It's nothing like that. I just, uh…You know, maybe she's not even coming." He looked suddenly uncertain. "Did she say she was coming?"

"She said she'd think about it."

Malcolm frowned. "Then she's coming. If Sarah said that she's corning. I know her. So. What do you say, want to go back?"

"Certainly not," Levine said, peering through binoculars. "I wouldn't dream of leaving here now."

Malcolm turned. "Doc? Want to go back?"

"Sure," Thorne said, wiping his forehead. "It's hot."

"If I know Sarah," Malcolm said, climbing down the scaffolding, she's going to show up on this island just looking great."

S
he struggled upward, and her head broke the surface, but she saw only water - great swells rising fifteen feet above her, on all sides. The power of the ocean was immense. The surge dragged her forward, then back, and she was helpless to resist. She could not see the boat anywhere, only foaming sea, on all sides. She could not see the island, only water. Only water. She fought a sense of overwhelming panic.

She tried to kick against the current, but her boots were leaden. She sank down again, and struggled back, gasping for air. She had to get her boots off, somehow. She gulped a breath and ducked her head under the water, and tried to unlace the boots. Her lungs burned as she fumbled with the knots. The ocean swept her back and forth, ceaselessly

She got one boot off, gulped air, and ducked down again. Her fingers were stiff with cold and fright, as she worked on the other boot. It seemed to take hours. Finally her legs were free, light, and she dogpaddled, catching her breath. The surge lifted her high, dropped her again. She could not see the island. She felt panic again. She turned, and felt the surge lift once more. And then she saw the island

The sheer cliffs were close, frighteningly close. The waves boomed as they smashed against the rocks. She was no more than fifty yards offshore, being swept inexorably toward the crashing surf On the next crest, she saw the cave, a hundred yards to her right. She tried to swim toward it, but it was hopeless. She had no power at all to move in this gigantic surf. She felt only the strength of the sea, sweeping her to the Cliffs.

Panic made her heart race. She knew she would be instantly killed. A wave crested over her; she gulped sea water, and coughed. Her eyes blurred. She felt nausea and deep, deep terror.

She put her head down and began to swim, arm over arm, kicking as hard as she could. She had no sense of movement, only the sideways pull of the surge. She dared not look up. She kicked harder. When she raised her head for another breath, she saw she had moved a little - not much, but a little - to the north. She was a little nearer to the cave.

She was encouraged, but she was terrified. She had so little strength! Her arms and legs ached with her effort. Her lungs burned. Her breath came in short ragged heaving gasps. She coughed again, grabbed another breath, put her head down and kicked onward.

Even with her head in the water, she heard the deep boom of the surf against the cliffs. She kicked with all her might. The currents and surge moved her left and right, forward and back. It was hopeless. But still she tried.

Gradually, the ache in her muscles became a steady drill pain. She felt she had lived with this pain all her life. She did not notice it any more. She kicked on, oblivious.

When she felt the surge lift her up again, she raised her head for a breath. She was startled to see that the cave was very close. A few more strokes and she would be swept inside it. She had thought the current might be less severe around the cave. But it wasn't; on either side of the opening, the waves crashed high, climbing the cliff walls, and then falling back. The boat was nowhere in sight.

She ducked her head down again, kicked forward, using the last of her strength. She could feel her entire body weakening. She could not last much longer. She knew she was being carried toward the cliffs. She heard the boom of the surf louder now, and she kicked again, and suddenly a huge swell swept her up, lifting her, carrying her toward the cliffs. She was powerless to resist it. She raised her head to look, and saw darkness, inky darkness.

In her exhaustion and pain, she realized that she was inside the cave. She had been swept into the cave! The booming sound was hollow, reverberating. It was too dark to see the walls on either side. The current was intense, sweeping her ever deeper. She gasped for breath and paddled ineffectually. Her body scraped against rock; she felt a moment of searing pain, and then she was swept farther into the depths of the cave. But now there was a difference. She saw faint light on the ceiling, and the water around her seemed to glow. The surge lessened. She found it easier to keep her head above water. She saw hot light ahead, brilliantly hot - the end of the cave.

And suddenly, astonishingly, she was carried through, and burst into sunlight and open air. She found herself in the middle of a broad muddy river, surrounded by dense green foliage. The air was hot and still; she heard the distant cries of jungle birds.

Up ahead, around a bend in the river, she saw the stern of Dodgson's boat, already tied up to the shore. She could not see any of the people, and she didn't want to see them.

Summoning her remaining strength, she kicked toward shore, and clutched at a stand of mangroves, growing thickly along the water's edge. Too weak to hold on, she hooked her arm around a root, and lay on her back in the gentle current, looking up at the sky, gasping for breath. She did not know how much time passed, but finally she felt strong enough to haul herself arm over arm along the mangrove roots at the water's edge, until she came to a narrow break in the foliage, leading to a patch of muddy shore beyond. As she dragged herself out of the water, and up on the slippery bank, she noticed several rather large animal footprints in the mud. They were curious, three-toed footprints, with each toe ending in a large claw…

She bent to examine them more closely, and then she felt the earth vibrating, trembling beneath her hands. A large shadow fell over her and she looked up in astonishment at the leathery, pale underbelly of an enormous animal. She was too weak to react, even to raise her head.

The last thing she saw was a huge leathery foot landing beside her, shushing in the mud, and a soft snorting sound. And then suddenly, abruptly, exhaustion overtook her, and Sarah Harding collapsed, and fell onto her back. Her eyes rolled up into her head, and she lost consciousness.