Then the tail banged against the front of the Explorer, with a loud metallic clang.
And the tyrannosaur stopped.
They heard a low, uncertain growl from the jungle. The tail swung back and forth in the air again, more tentatively. Soon enough, the tail brushed lightly against the radiator a second time.
Now they saw the foliage to the left rustling and bending, and the tail was gone.
Because the tyrannosaur, Thorne realized, was coming back.
Re-emerging from the jungle, it moved toward the car, until it was standing directly in front of them. It growled again, a deep rumbling sound, and turned its head slightly from side to side to look at this strange new object. Then it bent over, and Thorne could see that the tyrannosaur had something in its mouth; he saw the legs of a creature dangling on both sides of the jaws. Flies buzzed in a thick cloud around the tyrannosaur’s head.
Eddie moaned. “Oh, fuck.”
“Quiet,” Thorne whispered.
The tyrannosaurus snorted, and looked at the car. It bent lower, and sniffed repeatedly, moving its head slightly to the left and right with each inhalation. Thorne realized it was smelling the radiator. It moved laterally, and sniffed the tires. Then it lifted its huge head slowly, until its eyes rose above the surface of the hood. It stared at them through the windshield. Its eyes blinked. The gaze was cold and reptilian.
Thorne had the distinct impression that the tyrannosaur was looking at them: its eyes shifted from one person to the next. With its blunt nose, it pushed at the side of the car, rocking it slightly, as if testing its weight, measuring it as an opponent. Thorne gripped the steering wheel tightly and held his breath.
And then, abruptly, the tyrannosaur stepped away, and walked to the front of the car. It turned its back on them, lifting its big tail high. The tyrannosaur backed up toward them. They heard the tail scraping across the roof of the car. The rear haunches came closer . . .
And then the tyrannosaur sat down on the hood, tilting the vehicle, pushing the bumper into the ground with its enormous weight. At first, it did not move, but simply sat there. Then, after a moment, it began to wriggle its hips back and forth in a quick motion, making the metal squeak.
“What the hell?” Eddie said.
The tyrannosaur stood again, the car sprang back up, and Thorne saw thick white paste smeared across the hood. The tyrannosaur immediately moved away, heading down the game trail, disappearing into the jungle.
Behind them, they saw it emerge into the open again, stalk across the open compound. It lumbered behind the convenience store, passed between two of the cottages, and then disappeared from sight again.
Thorne glanced at Eddie, who jerked his head toward Malcolm. Malcolm had not turned to watch the departing tyrannosaur. He was still staring forward, his body tense. “Ian?” Thorne said. He touched him on the shoulder.
Malcolm said, “Is he gone?”
“Yes. He’s gone.”
Ian Malcolm’s body relaxed, his shoulders dropping. He exhaled slowly. His head sagged to his chest. He took a deep breath, and raised his head again. “You’ve got to admit,” he said. “You don’t see that every day.”
“Are you okay?” Thorne said.
“Yeah, sure. I’m fine.” He put his hand on his chest, feeling his heart. “Of course I’m fine. After all, that was just a small one.”
“Small?” Eddie said. “You call that thing small—”
“Yes, for a tyrannosaur. Females are quite a bit larger. There’s sexual dimorphism in tyrannosaurs—the females are bigger than the males. And it’s generally thought they did most of the hunting. But we may find that out for ourselves.”
“Wait a minute,” Eddie said. “What makes you so sure he was a male?”
Malcolm pointed to the hood of the car, where the white paste now gave off a pungent odor. “He scent-marked territory.”
“So? Maybe females can also mark—”
“Very likely they can,” Malcolm said. “But anal scent glands are found only among males. And you saw how he did it.”
Eddie stared unhappily at the hood. “I hope we can get that stuff off,” he said. “I brought some solvents, but I wasn’t expecting, you know . . . dino musk.”
The radio clicked. “Dr. Thorne,” Arby said. “Dr. Thorne? Is everything all right?”
“Yes, Arby. Thanks to you,” he said.
“Then why are you waiting? Dr. Thorne? Didn’t you see Dr. Levine?”
“Not yet, no.” Thorne reached for his sensor unit, but it had fallen to the floor. He bent over, and picked it up. Levine’s coordinates had changed. “He’s moving. . . .”
“I know he’s moving. Dr. Thorne?”
“Yes, Arby,” Thorne said. And then he said, “Wait a minute. How do you know he’s moving?”
“Because I can see him,” Arby said. “He’s riding a bicycle.”
Kelly came into the front of the trailer, yawning and pushing her hair back from her face. “Who’re you talking to, Arb?” She stared at the monitor and said, “Hey, pretty neat.”
“I got onto the Site B network,” he said.
“What network?”
“It’s a radio LAN, Kel. For some reason it’s still up.”
“Is that right? But how did—”
“Kids,” Thorne said, over the radio. “If you don’t mind. We’re looking for Levine.”
Arby picked up the handset. “He’s riding a bicycle down a path in the jungle. It’s pretty steep and narrow. I think he’s following the same path as the tyrannosaur.”
Kelly said, “As the what?”
* * *
Thorne put the car in gear, driving away from the power station, toward the worker compound. He went past the gas station, and then between the cottages. He followed the same path the tyrannosaur had taken. The game trail was fairly wide, easy to follow.
“We shouldn’t have those kids here,” Malcolm said, gloomily. “It’s not safe.”
“Not much we can do about it now,” Thorne said. He clicked the radio. “Arby, do you see Levine now?”
The car bounced through what had once been a flower bed, and around the back of the Manager’s Residence. It was a large two-storey building built in a tropical colonial style, with hardwood balconies all around the upper floor. Like the other houses, it was overgrown.
The radio clicked. “Yes, Dr. Thorne. I see him.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s following the tyrannosaur. On his bicycle.”
“Following the tyrannosaur.” Malcolm sighed. “I should never have gotten involved with him.”
“We all agree on that,” Thorne said. He accelerated, driving past a section of broken stone wall which seemed to mark the outer perimeter of the compound. The car plunged on into jungle, following the game trail.
Over the radio, Arby said, “Do you see him yet?”
“Not yet.”
The trail became progressively narrower, twisting as it ran down the hillside. They came around a curve, and suddenly saw a fallen tree blocking the path. The tree had been denuded in the center, its branches stripped and broken—presumably because large animals had repeatedly stepped over it.
Thorne braked to a stop in front of the tree. He got out, and walked around to the back of the Explorer.
“Doc,” Eddie said. “Let me do it.”
“No,” Thorne said. “If anything happens, you’re the only one who can repair the equipment. You’re more important, especially now that we have the kids.”
Standing behind the car, Thorne lifted the motorcycle off the carrier hooks. He swung it down, checked the battery charge, and rolled it to the front of the car. He said to Malcolm, “Give me that rifle,” and slung the rifle around his shoulder.
Thorne took a headset from the dashboard, and put it over his head. He clipped the battery pack to his belt, placed the microphone alongside his cheek. “You two go back to the trailer,” Thorne said. “Take care of the kids.”
“But Doc . . .” Eddi
e began.
“Just do it,” Thorne said, and lifted the motorcycle over the fallen tree. He set it down on the other side, and climbed over himself. Then he saw the same pungent, pale secretions on the trunk; it had smeared on his hands. He glanced back at Malcolm, questioningly.
“Marking territory,” Malcolm said.