Lex sat on the soft earth, hugging her knees, sobbing gently. Long white lines ran the length of her face where her tears had tracked, unchecked, through the layer of dust on her cheeks. Alan sat next to her with a comforting arm slung rather awkwardly across her shoulders, her head resting on his chest. Rick knelt a few paces away, talking quietly with Markinson and Carlisle.

"So was that the kid?" Markinson asked. "The one we're after?"

"Would you shut up?" Carlisle spat, indicating Lex with his open hand. Markinson looked away sheepishly.

"Grant's going to need a doctor," Carlisle said, turning his attention to Rick.

"He said himself that he's not willing to leave until this is done," Rick argued.

Carlisle looked around, gauging the distance between Lex and himself, then whispered to Rick: "For all we know, it is done."

Rick shook his head. "No. We don't know anything for certain."

Grant gently removed his arm from Lex's shoulders. "I'll be right back," he said softly.

He crossed to where the other men had gathered, waving his hands in a shooing motion as he went, urging them to take their conversation out of earshot of the distraught Lex.

"Gentlemen," he said softly, once the group had relocated, "we have a situation here. I don't know what's going to happen with these bites, but I urge you all not to take that into consideration when we make our decision."

"Look, Doc," Carlisle said, "I understand you want to help her, and I think it's great you'd sacrifice yourself this way—"

"Nobody said anything about a sacrifice," Alan cut in. "I want to make an intelligent decision, and I don't want my injuries to weigh into the process."

"That's real hero stuff," Rick said.

"So what are you thinking?" Carlisle asked.

"I'm going back to where we found those remains. I'm going to search that area and see what else I can come up with."

"What exactly are you going to be looking for, Doc?"

"Proof, one way or the other."

"Jesus," Carlisle said. "One bone wasn't enough? You want to go find a skull?"

"That one bone most likely wasn't Tim's. I'd call it a male femur," he said, and tapped his thigh for emphasis, "but it's aged more. Even in its somewhat deteriorated condition, I'd guess it's an older man's bone."

"How the hell can you tell how old a person is by a leg bone?" Carlisle protested.

"John Lee," Rick cut in, "bones are his business."

"The epiphyses," Grant answered.

"Isn't that one of the books of the Bible?" Carlisle said sarcastically.

"The epiphyses are the ends of the long bones. Now, on our femur there, it was apparent that the bone had once been fused to the tibia and fibula—the lower leg bones—before something violently broke it away. The fusion process is usually incomplete in young people Tim's age, which makes it likely this was some over 25 or so. Also, the presence of heavy calcium deposits is usually an indicator of an older animal…older person."

"You're good, doc," Carlisle said, with a measure of respect in his voice. "But how can you tell from a leg bone whether it's a man or a woman?"

"That was pure speculation," Grant admitted. "The sciatic notches on the pelvis would tell us almost for certain, or even the presence of brow ridges on the skull, but—"

" DOCTOR GRANT!"

Lex's sudden, excited shout brought all four men on the run.

"Lex, what is it?" Alan asked breathlessly. She had stood, and was holding Tim's journal out towards him, staring at him wild-eyed.

He took the journal gently from her. "What?" he asked again.

"The last entry," she said.

Alan closed the book.

"That's why his pack is still here," Lex said excitedly, clutching Alan's upper arms tightly. "He broke the strap. He probably laid the journal down while he was moving his things into Dr. Reilly's pack. Tim's alive!"

Alan said nothing at first. He was staring off into the forest as if deep in thought.

All at once, he snapped back to the here and now. "Hold on, Lex," he protested. "That's not necessarily the case. He—"

"Sure it is," Rick interrupted. "You said yourself, that leg bone belonged to an older person. Seems like it must have been Dr. Reilly."

"And you did say that was his hat back there," Carlisle noted.

Alan raised a hand. "Wait, wait, everyone," he said impatiently. "The evidence here certainly points to the possibility of Tim and at least one other team member being alive somewhere on this island, but there's no way to be certain. This journal entry is almost a week old. I'm sure you all would agree that a lot can happen here in a week's time."

"So you're saying we should give up?" Rick asked doubtfully.

"Absolutely not," Alan said emphatically. "I just think it would be better if we don't get our hopes up."

"If they're on the move, we'll never catch up," Rick said. "It's been at least a week since they left here."

"Their ride home is weeks overdue," Alan noted. "They have no reason to believe they're going to be picked up anytime soon. They'll probably find a place to hide out, and from then on it's very likely that they'll stay there. There's a very real possibility that we're not far behind them."

"So," Rick ventured, "if they found a place to make permanent camp a day or two after that journal entry, we could stumble onto them within the next couple of days."

"Then let's keep moving," Carlisle suggested. "We're burning daylight."

They quickly gathered their things, preparing to continue the trek west.

Without warning, Lex suddenly threw herself at Alan, embracing him and pressing her face against his chest. Her body heaved as she sobbed quietly.

"It's all right," he said soothingly. "We're going to find him. It's a matter of time now."

She continued to weep for a few moments more, clinging to Alan as if she were drowning. Rick and the others looked away uncomfortably. Gradually, she began to regain her composure. "Thank you, Alan," she said at last, her voice hitching.

He nodded, smiling slightly.

"Hey, Doc, I hate to break this up, but I think you ought to see this."

Grant broke away from Lex as gently as possible, then went to Carlisle. "What is it?"

Carlisle pointed into the forest. "Looks like your friends are tagging along."

Grant turned to look where Carlisle was pointing. There, hiding among the dense vegetation, was the compy herd. They studied the group of humans carefully, looking them over, their heads bobbing lightly.

"They followed us," Rick said, incredulous.

"They're not following us," Grant corrected. "They're following me. They're waiting."

"Waiting for what? I don't get it."

"This behavior has been observed in Varanus komodoensis, a large monitor commonly called the Komodo dragon. They eat carrion, which contributes to a sizable population of bacteria to their mouths, making the Komodo monitor's bite highly septic. They're known for inflicting several small bites on larger prey—even the occasional water buffalo has been recorded. They attack, and then simply follow until the victim becomes too ill to walk."

"Jesus," Rick said quietly, "that's sick."

"Are you sure that's what they're doing?" Lex asked.

Grant nodded. "Pretty sure. It fits with the story of the little girl in the Costa Rican hospital, for one thing, and for another, it explains why a group of animals that size would attack something as big as a human being. They're waiting for me to collapse."

"Jesus," Rick repeated.

John Lee slipped his rifle off his shoulder, but Alan stopped him.

"Save your ammunition. They're not likely to attack again while they're waiting me out."

The hunter accepted this. "If I had ammo to spare, though, I'd plug the little bastards on general principles."

Grant turned back and began walking. The others fell in behind him, one by one, forming a loose, strung-out line. They continued west, toward the afternoon sun.

Will Bradford entered Malcolm's cell, closed the door, and took a seat on the bunk. He looked around the room in a way that he hoped would appear casual to anyone observing. He examined the wall below the security camera and found what he had hoped to see: a wall outlet.

He had suddenly realized, while sitting in his office a few minutes earlier, that there might be no outlets in the cells. They had been offices before they were converted to holding tanks several years earlier, so it seemed likely they would still contain the usual electric and telephone outlets, but he knew he had to be certain. It would have been disastrous to discover later that the fixtures had been plastered over.

"Is there, ah, something I can help you with?" Ian asked. The edge was gone from his voice; despite everything else, he was somewhat grateful to Will Bradford. He had now enjoyed several meals, however small, at Bradford's risk and expense.

"I just thought you might have decided to be a little more cooperative. You've really been trying my patience, Dr. Malcolm." He placed his hands flat on the mattress for a moment, then folded them neatly on his lap.

Ian leaned forward, resting on his elbows. He cast a quick glance at the bunk where Bradford's right hand had briefly rested. There lay a small, neatly folded scrap of paper, exactly as Ian had expected.

"I have nothing to say to any of you people," Ian said flatly. "I would think that, that an educated man like yourself, you would have figured that out by now."

Bradford was grateful that Ian was clever enough to keep the act going. He stood up quickly, feigning frustration. He stormed to the door, turning at the last instant and aiming a warning finger in Malcolm's direction for effect. "Tomorrow," he said. "Tomorrow you and I are going to have a long conversation, so you damn well better be prepared for it."

Without another word, Bradford slid his card and made his exit.

Ian carefully palmed the slip of paper Bradford had left. He was anxious to read it, but thought of the watchful eyes behind the camera, and decided it would be best to wait.

Alan rummaged in his backpack, eventually producing the satellite phone Wallace had given him days before. The group had stopped for the night, and they were just finishing up their evening meal and preparing to take to the nearby trees.

"Calling in an airstrike on our little lizard buddies?" Carlisle asked.

Alan fumbled with the phone for a moment, then put it to his ear. "Calling Ian Malcolm," he said at last. "I haven't checked in since we got here. I thought I'd give him a status report, and have him attempt to make arrangements to have some sort of medical personnel on the barge when we make the rendezvous."

"You think we're going to be cutting it close," Rick guessed.

Alan nodded. He held the phone away from his ear, studying it with a puzzled expression.

"What is it?" Lex asked.

"No answer," he replied. "That is, if I'm using this stupid thing right."

Lex opened her own pack and took out her own phone. "Are you sure you dialed it right?"

"It's programmed in, along with all of the numbers of the phones we brought along, and a couple of others."

Lex deftly moved through the phone's autodial menu, locating the entry labeled MALCOLM IAN.

She listened to the slow, rhythmic tone indicating a ring on the other end. One ring, two, three. After ten rings, she shut the phone off. "He's not answering."

Alan tucked the phone back into his pack. "I'll try again in the morning."

"I wonder where he is," Lex thought aloud.

"Probably nothing to be concerned about. Knowing Ian, he's probably half-drunk and sweet-talking a waitress."

Lex smiled, but it was forced. She couldn't help but feel that something was wrong back in the states.

"I think I'm going to turn in," Carlisle announced. "I found a tree over there with cable TV and a whirlpool bath."

Markinson nodded. "Yeah, it's been a long day." Without another word, he disappeared into the darkness.

"I'd better call it a day, too," Lex said. "All this walking is kicking my ass."

"Trying to keep your balance with one arm wrapped up hasn't helped, I bet," Rick offered.

"It complicates things," she agreed.

Alan stood and gathered his things. "I'm exhausted. Anyone who attempts to wake me before noon tomorrow is in for an unpleasant surprise." He said goodnight and turned toward the dark forest. Looking back over his shoulder, he smiled at Lex and Rick. "And when you people do wake me up, there had better be donuts."

He disappeared into the darkness. Rick started to stand up, but Lex put a hand on his arm, stopping him. He looked back at her, surprised.

"I just wanted to say…" she started, then lost her train of thought. She fumbled for the words. "I never really thanked you for what you did by the river yesterday. I was in a lot of pain, and shock, and—"

"Nothing to it," Rick said casually. "I always wondered whether that belt trick would work."

"You mean you'd never done that before?"

He shook his head. "Well, sort of. Did it on a plastic dummy. Survival school stuff."

She nodded. "Anyway, thank you."

"You're welcome," he answered. "Just…doing what had to be done, I guess."

"T'weren't nothin' ma'am," Lex said mockingly, and they both laughed a little.

Then Rick turned serious again. "You're worried about Grant, aren't you?"

Lex nodded. "If anything happened to him…I don't know if I could forgive myself. I wish I'd never asked him to help."

"No, you don't," Rick argued. "He's most of the reason we're all still alive. He knows the dinosaurs, and he's familiar with the island. Not to mention he's a clever old fart."

Lex laughed again. "Well, yeah, there's that."

"You should be glad he's here," Rick continued. He then leaned close, just inches from her face, and said softly: "Nothing's going to happen to Dr. Grant. We're going to keep antiseptic on the wounds, and we're going to get the job done so he can get to a doctor. He'll be fine."

Lex seemed uncertain, but nodded nonetheless.

"Besides," Rick said, still hovering close, "if anything did happen to him, God forbid, it wouldn't be your fault. He's a grown man. He knows how to say no. He's here because he wants to be here."

Lex reluctantly agreed.

"He's here because underneath that over-educated dino-nerd exterior, he's got real hero qualities." He leaned closer, staring into her eyes.

"Unlike the guys who are only here for the money," she said sharply.

Rick straightened to an upright position. "Exactly," he muttered.

"I'm sorry," she said earnestly. "That was rude, and unnecessary."

"But true," he said, standing and gathering his pack and rifle.

"No," she protested. "I refuse to believe there's no more to you and John Lee than that."

He shrugged. "It's a job. We're getting a pretty good chunk of change for doing it. Hell, we're getting a tidy little sum just for trying." He turned away, toward the trees.

"Wait," Lex urged. "I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean—"

"I'm going to turn in. These long days are starting to run together."

Lex watched him go, wishing she hadn't been quite so harsh. Whatever money had changed hands back in the U.S., the fact remained that Rick and his men had put their lives on the line for her and Alan and Tim. She had been wrong, and she wanted him to know that her apologies were sincere.

After several long, contemplative moments, Lex took up her pack and sighed. She cursed herself for having a let her sharp tongue get away from her—and for being a little too concerned with Rick's feelings.

2/1/2003 3:26:08 AM
(Updated: 2/1/2003 3:28:49 AM)
(Updated: 4/9/2003 4:21:39 AM)

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