Cretaceous Sea

'Where did you get dry clothes? Where's Joe? How's the plane? Is there anything to eat?' Rick laughed. 'You sure wake up fast!'

'Will you answer my questions!'

'All right. The clothes were dried the hard way—body heat under a poncho. Joe's out hunting. We've got some leftovers from last night.'

'And the plane! Tell me about the plane!'

Rick hesitated before saying, 'Gone without a trace.'

The news hit Con like a blow. 'Are you sure?'

'We're sure.'

'Oh,' said Con softly, and she began to cry.

Rick held her until she stifled her sobs. 'When I was alone,' said Con, 'thinking about our cabin kept me going. I wanted to be there so much.'

'Don't give up hope. We'll get through this yet.'

'How?' asked Con. The doubt in her voice was plain.

'You want to eat something? We can discuss my plan when Joe returns.' A hint of a smile crept onto her face. 'You know me too well,' she said. 'Want to shut me up? Put food in my mouth.'

'I wasn't trying to do that.'

'Why not? It works.'

Con turned to look at Rick's face in the dim light that filtered through the poncho. It was dirty, unshaven, and hag- gard, but his loving expression made it beautiful to her. She was reminded of the gaze he had on the beach, when he believed they were doomed. Although his look brought her joy, it also gave birth to a disturbing thought— Maybe he still thinks we're doomed.

EVER SINCE CON had been found, Rick had turned his thoughts to their dire situation. Until her rescue, his plans for the future had not extended beyond putting her to rest. If that sad duty was not to be merely postponed, he knew he must come up with a strategy for survival. He had spent much of the night weighing unpromising alterna-tives, before choosing one he had previously rejected. It was a desperate plan, if it could be called a plan at all. It was more of a gamble, and a long shot at that. I'm truly the guide now, Rick thought. Joe and Con will expect me to show the way. He realized that, despite their precarious circumstances, he must exude confi-dence. That knowledge burdened him, for as a scientist he dealt in probabilities, not certainties. The course he would propose was a calculated risk at best. Yet, as the guide, he would have to keep his doubts to himself. He was aware that a positive attitude enhanced the chances for survival. In facing the times ahead, a sense of hope would be crucial. Rick resolved to instill one in Con and Joe as he struggled to foster one in himself. As Con ate 'leftover nightstalker, Rick mentally re-hearsed what he would say. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps from outside the poncho, fol-lowed by a thud. A cheerful voice called out. 'Joe's Bed and Breakfast. I hope my guests are decent.' Con threw off the poncho. 'Joe!' she said joyfully.

Joe was standing, wrapped in the Tyrannosaur hide, with a dead nightstalker at his feet. 'You get under that poncho, young lady. You weren't easy to warm up.'

Con complied, and Joe crawled beneath the poncho to join her and Rick. She immediately threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. 'You're all damp!' she said.

'That dinosaur skin is a better fashion statement than it is a raincoat,' said Joe with a grin. He looked at the bone Con had been gnawing. 'You're not going to spoil your breakfast, are you? I've prepared something spe-cial.'

'What?'

'Nightstalker a la Joe. It's served very rare.'

'You shouldn't.'

'I know,' said Joe, 'but since the bastard ate you out of house and home, it seemed only fitting.' Con laughed, and her laughter brought happiness to Joe's face. 'Rick's going to tell me all about your plans,' she said.

'Plans?' said Joe, giving Rick a puzzled look. 'Plans are good. Let's hear them, Rick.'

'First, we need to set up a temporary camp. Someplace out of the rain.'