He and Joe listened for a response, but the faint signal continued unchanged.
'Doesn't she hear us?' asked Rick. He shouted again and, this time, Joe joined in. They called Con's name until their throats were raw. Each time they paused, the distant tones showed no reaction.
'It's no use,' said Joe. 'The wind and the rain are muffling us. We've got to get closer.'
'Yeah, but where's that?'
They both listened intently to the faint sound. It seemed to come from no place in particular and it was a while before they could even agree that it was originating downstream. Once they made that determination, they headed in that di-rection. They ran along the slippery, rain-drenched riverbank, pausing only to catch their breath, to listen for the signal and call out in hoarse voices. Each time, their cries had no ef-fect—the signal continued unaltered. They proceeded in this manner, with growing frustration, until a side stream barred their way.
The torrent of brown water was impossible to cross. 'An-other goddamned detour!' said Joe in frustration.
They began moving upstream, looking for a place to ford. They were too tired to run anymore, but they scram-bled along the muddy slopes as fast as they could. As they went, the signal grew fainter and fainter. After a while, they could not hear it at all. The only sounds were rushing water and the steady fall of cold rain.
THE TYRANNOSAUR HIDE kept most of the rain off of Con, but it did not provide any warmth. Con drew her body into as compact a shape as possible and still blew upon her flute. Sitting tightly cross-legged, she hunched over and held her arms close to her chest. One hand grasped the hide around her while the other held the flute. The hide formed a crude hood, but rain still soaked into her hair. Con could not get warm. The longer she sat playing the flute, the colder she got. Her hands and feet became so frigid they hurt. She had to stop signaling for a period when she shivered so violently she could not make a note. After the shivering stopped, she felt exhausted. Every muscle was stiff, and her hands and feet were numb. Con found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on making the simple pattern of notes. Her mind clouded over, and lethargy set in. The-dark world became darker still, and she slumped over. The flute fell from her icy hand.
JOE AND RICK returned to the river as the light in the sky began to wane. The sound that had beckoned them was gone. Its absence pushed Rick to the verge of panic. That Con was alive at all was a miracle, but miracles have their limits. He knew that exposure to cold rain could quickly lead to hypothermia.
Joe sensed his agitation. 'Maybe she has shelter and has gone in for the night.'
'Are you willing to bet her life on that?' said Rick.
'No,' replied Joe. 'When it gets dark, we'll use the flashlights. Screw saving the batteries.'
'Let's think about this,' said Rick. 'She's probably on this stretch of river, but where?'
'We hole up on high ground at night,' said Joe. 'I bet she does, too.'
'I agree,' said Rick. 'Maybe she's found a cave, but the hilltops should be the first place we look.' They headed for the first hill overlooking the river. When they climbed it, they found nothing. The light was dwindling rapidly, and they hurried to the next hill as fast as their exhausted bodies permitted. The reward was another desolate view. The next hill was but a distant black shape against a nearly black sky. They were about to descend when Joe spotted three nightstalkers feeding on the slopes below. He turned on the gun and said with-out enthusiasm, 'Dinner.'
Two of the nightstalkers quickly looked up as the gun cracked and the third nightstalker fell. After a brief pause, they resumed eating. 'Uncaring bastards,' said Joe. He marched down the hill to retrieve his kill. The nightstalkers were feeding on a Tyrannosaur's carcass, and the smell of their meal did not make Joe look forward to his. The two remaining animals stood their ground as Joe approached. Their yellow-brown eyes stared at him in an unnerving way. 'Shoo,' he said. They stayed put. 'Not afraid of me? You should be.' Joe adjusted the gun's power level and fired. The two carnivores exploded into a bloody mist, leaving only their lower legs to topple in the mud. Joe turned off the gun. It was a waste of power, but a satisfying one. He was bending over to pick up his and Rick's dinner when he spotted Con's shoe.
'Rick, come down here quick!'
By the time Rick arrived, Joe had his flashlight out and was peering into the remnants of Con's den. 'She must have stayed here,' he said. 'See, here's her shoe.'
'God, it stinks!' said Rick. 'She stayed under this?'
'Looks like it. See where it's dug out? There's a drain-age trench in back.' Disregarding the stench of the rotting Tyrannosaur, Rick leaned into the den and pulled out two bone frag-ments. 'Look at these, Joe. They've been sawn.'
Joe shook his head in amazement. 'How the hell did she do that?'
'Beats me,' said Rick. 'I'd bet these have something to do with the sound we heard. Probably a bone whistle or something.'
