smoothed out the bloody, churned-up sand with one massive foot, then turned and retreated to his shelter without a glance at his unwilling companion.
Aching too much to sleep any longer, Adam passed the afternoon gathering sticks and tinder in the hope of starting a fire. Then he started searching for matches in one of the rucksacks. He found instead the mysterious files Zed had collected and packed carefully at the bottom.
Why had Zed wanted Sedona to explain those files to Adam? If only Bateman hadn’t turned up when he did, Adam guessed he’d know a lot more about whatever mad, mutant experiment had been going on at Ponil—and how his dad figured in things. Instead . . .
He shook his head to clear the horrible memories. “Where are the stupid matches?”
As if at the sound of Adam’s voice, Zed crawled out from his shelter. Adam backed away as the dinosaur approached his pile of dry grass and sticks, watched as the giant creature struck his massive claws against a rock and set great sparks jumping. As the tinder started to smoke, Zed carefully pursed his lips and blew gently enough not to scatter the kindling. The fire was blazing in moments.
A regular Boy Scout, Adam thought wryly. He shuffled closer to the flames, but they couldn’t seem to touch the coldness inside him. How does Zed know stuff like this? Dinosaurs never made fire. . . . He caught himself. Of course, dinosaurs had never performed kickboxing routines they picked up from a video game either. Or talked. And since when had they defused bombs?
Adam bit his lip. The truth of that night had been flickering at the back of his mind. It wasn’t Bateman who had loused up at all. Zed had defused the bomb and then set it off after they left so Bateman would think it had worked after all . . . that he and Zed were dead and buried inside.
He stared in awe at the dinosaur beside him. “You’re a devious wee monster, aren’t you?”
Zed made no response, staring at the fire as if transfixed by his creation.
Yeah, devious. Clever. A killer.
And edging closer to civilization.
Wearily, Adam reached into one of the rucksack’s side pockets and unfolded the map of the world that Zed had torn down from the wall. “Wonder where we are now?”
Abruptly, Zed leaned forward and stretched out an arm toward him. Adam flinched as the point of the dinosaur’s index claw tapped down on the map with precision.
“Ontario?” Adam read, as Zed retreated to his original position. “How would you know that? I mean . . . are you navigating by the stars? You can’t come with built-in sat-nav. . . .” He shook his head. “Where did you come from?”
The dinosaur seemed not to hear. His dark eyes were fixed on the fire once more, reflecting the flames’ pattern and dance.
That night, Adam decided to wear the gas mask he’d packed, to ward off the chill and keep the sting of the wind from his eyes. But it did little to improve his comfort, and the rubbery smell didn’t help his nausea any.
He rested his cheek against Zed’s neck. Even through the rubber, Adam could feel the dinosaur’s knots of muscle bunch and relax with every sweep of those powerful wings. He closed his eyes, wished he could sleep and wake to find the journey was over. Or better, that this whole nightmare had been exactly that—a bad dream. Maybe he’d had a fever or something, and would wake to find his dad smiling down at him. “Quite a temperature you had there, Ad, but now it’s—”
Falling.
Adam jerked awake to find himself in free fall, tumbling through the night, arms and legs windmilling helplessly. For a dizzying moment he couldn’t tell up from down or ground from sky. The sleeves of the hazard-suit flapped uselessly around him in the fierce gale of his descent; the knots Zed had tied in them must have come loose.
He screamed through his mask, a raw shriek of horror.
Buffeted by the wind, turning in midair, Adam saw a dark shadow rushing up to meet him and braced
Aching too much to sleep any longer, Adam passed the afternoon gathering sticks and tinder in the hope of starting a fire. Then he started searching for matches in one of the rucksacks. He found instead the mysterious files Zed had collected and packed carefully at the bottom.
Why had Zed wanted Sedona to explain those files to Adam? If only Bateman hadn’t turned up when he did, Adam guessed he’d know a lot more about whatever mad, mutant experiment had been going on at Ponil—and how his dad figured in things. Instead . . .
He shook his head to clear the horrible memories. “Where are the stupid matches?”
As if at the sound of Adam’s voice, Zed crawled out from his shelter. Adam backed away as the dinosaur approached his pile of dry grass and sticks, watched as the giant creature struck his massive claws against a rock and set great sparks jumping. As the tinder started to smoke, Zed carefully pursed his lips and blew gently enough not to scatter the kindling. The fire was blazing in moments.
A regular Boy Scout, Adam thought wryly. He shuffled closer to the flames, but they couldn’t seem to touch the coldness inside him. How does Zed know stuff like this? Dinosaurs never made fire. . . . He caught himself. Of course, dinosaurs had never performed kickboxing routines they picked up from a video game either. Or talked. And since when had they defused bombs?
Adam bit his lip. The truth of that night had been flickering at the back of his mind. It wasn’t Bateman who had loused up at all. Zed had defused the bomb and then set it off after they left so Bateman would think it had worked after all . . . that he and Zed were dead and buried inside.
He stared in awe at the dinosaur beside him. “You’re a devious wee monster, aren’t you?”
Zed made no response, staring at the fire as if transfixed by his creation.
Yeah, devious. Clever. A killer.
And edging closer to civilization.
Wearily, Adam reached into one of the rucksack’s side pockets and unfolded the map of the world that Zed had torn down from the wall. “Wonder where we are now?”
Abruptly, Zed leaned forward and stretched out an arm toward him. Adam flinched as the point of the dinosaur’s index claw tapped down on the map with precision.
“Ontario?” Adam read, as Zed retreated to his original position. “How would you know that? I mean . . . are you navigating by the stars? You can’t come with built-in sat-nav. . . .” He shook his head. “Where did you come from?”
The dinosaur seemed not to hear. His dark eyes were fixed on the fire once more, reflecting the flames’ pattern and dance.
That night, Adam decided to wear the gas mask he’d packed, to ward off the chill and keep the sting of the wind from his eyes. But it did little to improve his comfort, and the rubbery smell didn’t help his nausea any.
He rested his cheek against Zed’s neck. Even through the rubber, Adam could feel the dinosaur’s knots of muscle bunch and relax with every sweep of those powerful wings. He closed his eyes, wished he could sleep and wake to find the journey was over. Or better, that this whole nightmare had been exactly that—a bad dream. Maybe he’d had a fever or something, and would wake to find his dad smiling down at him. “Quite a temperature you had there, Ad, but now it’s—”
Falling.
Adam jerked awake to find himself in free fall, tumbling through the night, arms and legs windmilling helplessly. For a dizzying moment he couldn’t tell up from down or ground from sky. The sleeves of the hazard-suit flapped uselessly around him in the fierce gale of his descent; the knots Zed had tied in them must have come loose.
He screamed through his mask, a raw shriek of horror.
Buffeted by the wind, turning in midair, Adam saw a dark shadow rushing up to meet him and braced
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