Malcolm turned, and joined her. She was pointing out the window toward the nearest trees.
“What?”
And then he saw the big head emerge from the foliage midway up one tree. The head turned slowly from side to side, as if listening. It was an adult Tyrannosaurus rex.
“Ian,” she whispered. “Look—there are two of them.”
Over to the right, he saw a second animal step from behind the trees. It was larger, the female of the pair. The animals growled, a deep rumble in the night. They emerged slowly from the cover of the trees, stepping into the clearing. They blinked in the harsh light.
“Are those the parents?”
“I don’t know. I think so.”
He glanced over at the baby. It was still unconscious, breathing steadily, the blanket rising and falling regularly.
“What are they doing here?” she said.
“I don’t know.”
The animals were still standing at the edge of the clearing, near the cover of the trees. They seemed hesitant, waiting.
“Are they looking for the baby?” she said.
“Sarah, please.”
“I’m serious.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Why? They must have tracked it here.”
The tyrannosaurs raised their heads, lifting their jaws. Then they turned their heads left and right, in slow arcs. They repeated the movement, then took a step forward, toward the trailer.
“Sarah,” he said. “We’re miles from the nest. There isn’t any way for them to track it.”
“How do you know?”
“Sarah—”
“You said yourself, we don’t know anything about these animals. We don’t know anything about their physiology, their biochemistry, their nervous systems, their behavior. And we don’t know anything about their sensory equipment, either.”
“Yes, but—”
“They’re predators, Ian. Good sense of vision, good sense of hearing and smell.”
“I assume so, yes.”
“But we don’t know what else,” Sarah said.
“What else?” Malcolm said.
“Ian. There are other sensory modalities. Snakes sense infrared. Bats have echolocation. Birds and turtles have magnetosensors—they can detect the earth’s magnetic field, which is how they migrate. Dinosaurs may have other sensory modalities that we can’t imagine.”
“Sarah, this is ridiculous.”
“Is it? Then you tell me. What are they doing out there?”
Outside, near the trees, the tyrannosaurs had become silent. They were no longer growling, but they were still moving their heads back and forth in slow arcs, turning left and right.
Malcolm frowned. “It looks like . . . they’re looking around. . . .”
“Straight into bright lights? No, Ian. They’re blinded.”
As soon as she said it, he realized she was right. But the heads were turning back and forth in that regular way. “Then what are they doing? Smelling?”
“No. Heads are high. Nostrils aren’t moving.”
“Listening?”
She nodded. “Possibly.”
“Listening to what?”
“Maybe to the baby.”
He glanced over again. “Sarah. The baby is out cold.”
“I know.”
“It isn’t making any noise.”
“None that we can hear.” She stared at the tyrannosaurs. “But they’re doing something, Ian. That behavior we’re seeing has meaning. We just don’t know what it is.”
* * *
From the high hide, Levine stared through his night-vision glasses at the clearing. He saw the two tyrannosaurs standing at the edge of the forest. They were moving their heads in an odd, synchronized way.
They took a few hesitant steps toward the trailer, lifted their heads, turned right and left, and then seemed finally to make up their minds. The animals moved quickly, almost aggressively, across the clearing.
Over the radio, they heard Malcolm say, “It’s the lights! The lights are drawing them.”
A moment later, the exterior lights were turned off, and the clearing went black. They all squinted in the darkness. They heard Malcolm say, “That did it.”
Thorne said to Levine, “What do you see?”
“Nothing.”
“What’re they doing?”
“They’re just standing there.”
Through the night-vision goggles, he saw that the tyrannosaurs had paused, as if confused by this change in light. Even from a distance, he could hear their growls, but they were uneasy. They swung their great heads up and down, and snapped their jaws. But they did not move closer.
Kelly said, “What is it?”
“They’re waiting,” Levine said. “At least for the moment.”
Levine had the distinct impression that the tyrannosaurs were unsettled. The trailer must represent a large and fearsome change in their environment. Perhaps they would turn away, he thought, and leave. Despite their enormous size, they were cautious, almost timid animals.
They growled again. And then he saw them move forward, toward the darkened trailer.
“Ian: what do we do?”
“Damned if I know,” Malcolm whispered.
They were crouched down side by side in the passageway, trying to stay out of sight in the windows. The tyrannosaurs moved implacably forward. They could feel each step as a distinct vibration now—two ten-ton animals, moving toward them.
“They’re coming right at us!”
“I noticed,” he said.
The first of the animals reached the trailer, coming so close that the body blocked the entire window. All Malcolm could see was powerfully muscled legs and underbelly. The head was far above them, out of view.
Then the second tyrannosaur came up on the opposite side. The two animals began to circle the trailer, growling and snorting. Heavy footsteps shook the floor beneath them. They smelled the pungent predator odor. One of the tyrannosaurs brushed against the side of the trailer and they heard a scraping sound, scaly flesh on metal.
Malcolm felt sudden panic. It was the smell that did it, the smell that he suddenly remembered, from before. He began to sweat. He glanced over at Sarah, and saw that she was intent, watching the movements of the animals. “This isn’t hunting behavior,” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” Malcolm said. “Maybe it is. They aren’t lions, you know.”
One of the tyrannosaurs bellowed in the night, a frightening, ear-splitting sound.
“Not hunting,” she said. “They’re searching, Ian.”
A moment later, the second tyrannosaur bellowed in reply. Then the big head swung down, and peered in through the window in front of them. Malcolm ducked down, flattening himself on the trailer floor,
and Sarah collapsed on top of him. Her shoe pressed on his ear.
“It’s going to be fine, Sarah.”
Outside, they heard the tyrannosaurs snorting and growling.
Malcolm whispered, “Would you mind moving?”
She edged to one side, and he eased up slowly, peering cautiously over the seat cushions. He had a glimpse of the big eye of the rex staring in at him. The eye swiveled in the socket. He saw the jaws open and close. The hot breath of the animal fogged the glass.
The tyrannosaur’s head swung away, moving back from the trailer, and for a moment Malcolm breathed more easily. But then the head swung back, and slammed with a heavy thud into the trailer, rocking it hard.
“Don’t worry, Sarah. The trailer’s very strong.”
She whispered, “I can’t tell you how relieved I am.”
From the opposite side, the other rex bellowed and struck the trailer with its snout. The suspension creaked with the impact.
The two tyrannosaurs now began an alternating, rhythmic pounding of the trailer from either side. Malcolm and Harding were thrown back and forth. Sarah tried to steady herself, but was knocked away at the next impact. The floor tilted crazily under each blow. Lab equipment flew off the tables. Glass shattered.
And then, abruptly, the pounding stopped. There was silence.
Grunting, Malcolm got up on one knee. He peered out the window, and saw the hindquarters of one of the tyrannosaurs, as it moved forward.
“What do we do?” he whispered.
The radio crackled. Thorne said, “Ian, are you there? Ian!”
“For God’s sake, turn that off,” Sarah whispered.
Malcolm reached for his belt, whispered, “We’re okay,” and clicked the radio off.
Sarah was crawling on her hands and knees forward through the trailer, into the biology lab. He followed her, and saw the big tyrannosaur peering in through the window, at the baby, strapped down. The tyrannosaur made a soft grunting sound.
Then it paused, looking in the window.
It grunted again.
“She wants her baby, Ian,” Sarah whispered.
“Well, God knows,” Malcolm said, “it’s all right with me.” They were huddled on the floor, trying to stay out of sight.