He moved slower through the shrubs and small trees, using the worn paths carved through the forest when the herds had fled to the desert. Tides are associated with the sea, but Sam realized then that they existed here on land too—the flow of life in response to the forces of nature.
The foothills felt like dunes after a strong tide, rutted and mangled, the foliage matted but still retaining the same general shape.
He walked until it was quiet around him. At the base of a massive tree, he sank down and let his body rest, careful to keep the cut on his back from making contact with the trunk. It was incredibly tender to the touch. Probably infected.
He’d deal with that if he didn’t get eaten. And at that moment, he realized that he hadn’t eaten in quite some time. With the adrenaline fading, his hunger was reasserting itself.
A handful of earthworms would hit the spot about now.
There’s something Sam never thought he’d look forward to.
A grilled fish would be better, but he didn’t see himself building a fire tonight—and the cloud of smoke reduced his visibility too much. The smell of that tasty meal would draw predators, especially if they couldn’t see the fire. It was too much trouble.
Still sitting, Sam took the metal pins from his pocket. The light on the end was green and blinking. He was pointed in the right direction.
When he was rested, he rose and trekked into the woods, the pins like a compass guiding his way. He sensed that whatever was waiting for him might save him. Or end everything for good.
He was hoping it was better than being eaten by a dinosaur, because sooner or later, that was likely his fate here in the Triassic.
At the top of the ridge, he checked the pins again. The lights were blinking faster now. He was close.
Near the valley, the lights went solid green. He turned the pins slightly, and they began to fade from green to white.
He kept walking, head down, careful to avoid the charred, fallen trees and limbs. Finally, the small lights on the pins turned solid white. He kept walking, and when he did, the green tinge began to return. He backed up until the white was solid.
It was here.
Sam looked around. There was nothing on the ground except for two trampled ferns, the thick velvety fronds hanging in ripped, broken pieces, and soggy dirt and rocks at his feet.
Sam dug his foot in, making a mark in the ground, and stalked off into the forest, searching. He found what he needed a few minutes later. Based on the size, the skeleton was from a Chindesaurus, if he had to guess. He snapped off the top of the T. rex-like skull, careful to avoid the sharp teeth.
Back at the mark he had made, he got down on his hands and knees and began digging with the skull, throwing the dark, spongy dirt aside.
Somewhere along the way, the rain stopped, and Sam was thankful for that. Having dry hands made holding his dinosaur hand shovel easier.
Soon, he spotted a small speck of white protruding through the earth. Sam sank the Chindesaurus skull into the dirt, and this time it hit a rib bone, snapping off the end.
Sam dug with his hands then, uncovering the rib cage—a human rib cage. These bones were old. Fragile and brittle and worn away.
Sam sat back on his haunches to catch his breath and consult the metal pins. The white light had turned to blue.
With the dark clouds flowing around him and the forest creaking with the aftermath of the volcano, fire, and storm, Sam moved the dirt away until he uncovered the femur and the large piece of metal waiting there.
With the Chindesaurus skull, he broke the metal device free. It seemed to be made from the same metal as the pins, but this piece was different—it was larger and round, reminding Sam of the face of watch. In the center of the device was a dial with a single switch. At the bottom was an O. At the top was an I—or a one.
Off and On.
At the top of the piece, there was what looked like a small port. Another port sat at the bottom. Sam plugged a pin in the top port. On the round metal piece, a blue light came on. Sam joined another pin to the first and repeated until the last pin connected to the bottom port. The blue light on the dial turned golden.
It was like a watch. The pins formed a sort of band. Was he supposed to wear it? To put it on his wrist?
Nearby, through the fog, he heard branches snapping under the foot of something very large. The snapping grew closer.
Sam disconnected the last pin, slipped the device around his left wrist, and fumbled to get the pin back into the port. It had been far easier to connect with two hands.
The cloud parted. A Chindesaurus stepped through the opening. Its head tilted to the left, as if confused by what it saw: Sam sitting in a shallow pit, a dinosaur skull beside him.