The Lost World - Michael Crichton [65]
The radio clicked. “Dr. Thorne,” Arby said. “Dr. Thorne? Is everything all right?”
“Yes, Arby. Thanks to you,” he said.
“Then why are you waiting? Dr. Thorne? Didn’t you see Dr. Levine?”
“Not yet, no.” Thorne reached for his sensor unit, but it had fallen to the floor. He bent over, and picked it up. Levine’s coordinates had changed. “He’s moving. . . .”
“I know he’s moving. Dr. Thorne?”
“Yes, Arby,” Thorne said. And then he said, “Wait a minute. How do you know he’s moving?”
“Because I can see him,” Arby said. “He’s riding a bicycle.”
Kelly came into the front of the trailer, yawning and pushing her hair back from her face. “Who’re you talking to, Arb?” She stared at the monitor and said, “Hey, pretty neat.”
“I got onto the Site B network,” he said.
“What network?”
“It’s a radio LAN, Kel. For some reason it’s still up.”
“Is that right? But how did—”
“Kids,” Thorne said, over the radio. “If you don’t mind. We’re looking for Levine.”
Arby picked up the handset. “He’s riding a bicycle down a path in the jungle. It’s pretty steep and narrow. I think he’s following the same path as the tyrannosaur.”
Kelly said, “As the what?”
* * *
Thorne put the car in gear, driving away from the power station, toward the worker compound. He went past the gas station, and then between the cottages. He followed the same path the tyrannosaur had taken. The game trail was fairly wide, easy to follow.
“We shouldn’t have those kids here,” Malcolm said, gloomily. “It’s not safe.”
“Not much we can do about it now,” Thorne said. He clicked the radio. “Arby, do you see Levine now?”
The car bounced through what had once been a flower bed, and around the back of the Manager’s Residence. It was a large two-storey building built in a tropical colonial style, with hardwood balconies all around the upper floor. Like the other houses, it was overgrown.
The radio clicked. “Yes, Dr. Thorne. I see him.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s following the tyrannosaur. On his bicycle.”
“Following the tyrannosaur.” Malcolm sighed. “I should never have gotten involved with him.”
“We all agree on that,” Thorne said. He accelerated, driving past a section of broken stone wall which seemed to mark the outer perimeter of the compound. The car plunged on into jungle, following the game trail.
Over the radio, Arby said, “Do you see him yet?”
“Not yet.”
The trail became progressively narrower, twisting as it ran down the hillside. They came around a curve, and suddenly saw a fallen tree blocking the path. The tree had been denuded in the center, its branches stripped and broken—presumably because large animals had repeatedly stepped over it.
Thorne braked to a stop in front of the tree. He got out, and walked around to the back of the Explorer.
“Doc,” Eddie said. “Let me do it.”
“No,” Thorne said. “If anything happens, you’re the only one who can repair the equipment. You’re more important, especially now that we have the kids.”
Standing behind the car, Thorne lifted the motorcycle off the carrier hooks. He swung it down, checked the battery charge, and rolled it to the front of the car. He said to Malcolm, “Give me that rifle,” and slung the rifle around his shoulder.
Thorne took a headset from the dashboard, and put it over his head. He clipped the battery pack to his belt, placed the microphone alongside his cheek. “You two go back to the trailer,” Thorne said. “Take care of the kids.”
“But Doc . . .” Eddie began.
“Just do it,” Thorne said, and lifted the motorcycle over the fallen tree. He set it down on the other side, and climbed over himself. Then he saw the same pungent, pale secretions on the trunk; it had smeared on his hands. He glanced back at Malcolm, questioningly.
“Marking territory,” Malcolm said.
“Great,” Thorne said. “Just great.” He wiped his hands on his trousers.
Then he got on the motorcycle, and drove off.
Foliage slapped at Thorne’s shoulders and legs as he drove down the game trail, following the tyrannosaur. The animal was somewhere up ahead, but he couldn’t see it. He was driving