The Bone Wars, page 16
“No way,” Farnsworth snarled.
Oh my, was that a snarl?
Sarah put her hands on her hips. “Look, it’s just for one night. Molly and I will take this room, you have that one.” She tossed Farnsworth our key, and quickly opened her own room. Molly stood between us, looking back and forth with her mouth open. Sarah grabbed her arm and dragged her inside their room. “Good night. Please don’t kill each other,” Sarah called as she shut her door.
Farnsworth was just standing there, staring at Sarah’s door, his face a brighter red than a tomato. After a long moment of seriously wondering if Farnsworth was going to burst into flames, I reached over and grabbed the key from his hand and opened our door. I walked inside and left the door open, mostly for him, but also just in case I needed to get out quickly.
Well, looks could be deceiving. The Pilgrim Inn had rather nice rooms, and they had obviously been updated since Shakespeare was spinning yarns at the Globe Theatre. There were two twin beds with wrought iron bed frames, covered with fluffy white comforters. Off to the side, a slightly open door suggested a possible bathroom. Next to it, a small desk. I dropped my bag on the bed closest to the window. Turning around, I saw that Farnsworth had followed me inside and was standing next to the other bed.
My bed groaned and squeaked as I sat down, but the mattress was firm and comfortable.
I looked back up at Farnsworth. His mouth was stretched into a deep frown, and his eyes were thunderous under creased brows.
“Look, it’s just for one night . . .” I said slowly.
He didn’t answer but instead threw his backpack onto his bed. He put his hands on his hips and breathed heavily out of his nose.
“Seriously, Derek,” I said, but the only response I got was another push of nostril air. I really didn’t want to fight, not after a day like today, so I tried another tactic. “TV and room service? Couple of hamburgers and you can pick the movie . . .” I trailed off as his breathing became even faster, and his face became even redder. What is redder than a tomato? That was Farnsworth. “Fine, do you want to sleep downstairs? That carpet in the front lobby looked rather comfortable.”
“Better than sleeping here,” he said between his clenched teeth.
“Dear Lord, you big lug. I’m not going to kill you.”
“No, you just take and take.”
I shook my head. “Come on. I’m tired, and this is getting really old. That was over twenty years ago.”
“What? Let bygones be bygones?”
“‘We learn from our past to strengthen our future, to be better people.’”
“You’re actually quoting your own TED Talk?”
I pointed at him and let out a loud, barking laugh. “I knew it! You did watch it.”
He glowered at me, his leg twitching like he wanted to stamp his foot and charge like a bull. “You hurt people to get what you want. Adults can take it, but kids?” he said.
I looked down at my lap. Now I know he’s not talking about our past.
“Sarah’s an adult. And Molly’s—” I began.
“Too young to know better. What were you thinking? The minute my fossils were stolen, you should have sent her away. To Colorado with Dean and Karolin, or back home to California. You know that.”
I knew that. I’d made many decisions in my life I was proud of, but several of them I wasn’t. No sixteen-year-old kid should be here. Especially if Raley was following us. I knew I should put Molly on the next flight home.
“Derek . . .” I started, but the words were stuck in my throat. I wanted to agree with him, but I couldn’t. Finally, I stood up. “Okay. I’m going to the bar for a nightcap. Get some sleep.” But before I could even move around our beds, Farnsworth turned around and stormed out the door, slamming it behind him. The effort caused a small portrait of a man fishing near a stone bridge to fall down onto the floor.
I shook my head as I yelled at the door. “You better not still snore!”
Some Famous Influential Movie
Sarah
My arm felt wonderfully cool as I pressed it onto my tired eyes. The mattress under me was soft, like I was lying on a springy cloud. A definite step up from dozing sitting up in coach on a transatlantic flight. Hopefully I wouldn’t have to do that again. That was horrible. My spine was still screaming at me.
The voice in my head was relentless.
What are you doing here?
How did all this get so messed up?
What are you doing here?
How did all this get so messed up?
I just wanted it all to stop.
On the other side of the room, I heard Molly’s fingers dance over my laptop keys, the telltale clicky-clacky noise the only sound. A funny juxtaposition of modernity in a room that was probably built around the time the United States was founded.
Something about Molly pushed the voices in my head back.
“Good email?” I said, my voice raspy. I cleared my throat and reached for my water bottle next to me.
“No,” Molly said, letting out a long sigh. “I have no idea what to say.”
“The truth?”
“Yeah, right. ‘Hi, Dad, how are you? Got that Harley finished yet for that client? Oh, by the way, I’m not in Montana anymore, but instead in England on a wild goose chase to find a dragon—’”
“Dinosaur.”
“Dinosaur. Whatever. ‘I’m good. There is a strange man following us who is pretending to be from the Bureau of Land Management, but don’t worry, I’m good. Will call soon.’”
That made me laugh. “Yeah, you’re screwed.”
She was such a good kid. She reminded me of me, or of the me that Derek saw. Back then.
She turned around and hit the “delete” button, erasing the email. “Probably.”
I sat up and gave her a long look. She looked back, chin raised. Fire in her eyes. The girl had so much potential, and I was probably getting her into a world of hurt here. Do the right thing. “Do you want to go home? We can get you home—”
“No!” Molly replied quickly. “No.”
She beamed at me, and my stomach churned. This could end really poorly. Time to change topics and dive into calmer waters that have nothing to do with traveling around the world hunting errant fossils. “Your dad fixes Harleys for a living?”
“He’s a mechanic. Specializes in old motorcycles.”
“That’s pretty cool. You know how to ride?”
“Yeah. I grew up sitting pillion on his old Triumph. When I was big enough, he got me started on an old dirt bike.”
“Triumph?”
“Triumph Bonneville. Type of motorcycle. Made in England, actually. Dad got it in a trade.”
“You guys close?”
She nodded vigorously. “Dad’s really supportive of me being here. Digging dinosaurs that is. He loves that I love dinosaurs.”
I doubted he’d be supportive of her flying across the world without his permission.
“I could never tell him about Raley. He’d probably burst a vein in his brain due to worry and bankrupt himself flying out here to get to me,” she continued.
I sighed in agreement. “What about your mom?”
She shook her head, her voice low and sad. “Not in the picture. She left when I was a kid.”
I knew how that felt. I had my parents, but they were busy all the time. I had been lucky to have Derek. He took an interest in me, making sure I was busy after school and on weekends. Forced me to do my homework. Gave me skills that I could use in the future. Unlike so many other kids I knew growing up. Some left, but most stayed. I saw them when I visited Glasgow, trapped in time.
Not a chance would that ever be me.
“So, why do you think Raley is here?” Molly asked quietly.
“I have no idea. I would think he had everything he wanted from his raid on Derek’s warehouse, but obviously, that is wrong,” I replied, picking at a string on my comforter. It was all so strange, honestly.
She nodded and pulled her legs up against her body on the chair, resting her chin on her knees. “Dr. Oliphant said back in Montana that Derek dealt with black market stuff. Could that be what’s happening here?”
“Maybe,” I replied.
“You knew about that stuff?”
I knew Derek would kill me if I told her the truth. Derek really tried to keep me out of it. But even I couldn’t ignore the calls or the last-minute trips to countries the United States warned against visiting.
“His main commercial fossil business is legit,” I finally answered. “But, I honestly think that over the years he just pulled a few strings in some undesirable countries to gain access to lands that he shouldn’t have. I know that that part of his life was years ago, and he’s moved on.”
“The job on Farnsworth’s warehouse was very fast and calculated. Someone with a lot of experience stealing fossils was behind it. I’m no expert, but I’d bet my dragon book a person used to dealing with black market stuff could manage it,” Molly said, her whole body rigid with energy.
“Where do you get that idea?” I said. “You sound like someone from CSI or something.”
“And Raley was in London, looking right at us as we ran away,” Molly continued, seemingly not hearing me. “What else does he want? The journal? There is no way he could have anticipated us finding that, right?”
Good point. “Can I see the journal?” I asked.
Molly handed it to me and I carefully opened it. It was really quite stunning, a fantastic example of nineteenth-century artistic penmanship fluidly mixed with scientific observations and evidence. I turned several pages that contained illustrations and maps, stopping on a note glued into the journal. It was really hard to read because it was so faded, so I read aloud what I could. “‘The Order has woven itself into the very fabric of our scientific society, smashing the advances of men in their efforts to eliminate what they deem to be false idols . . .’”
What are you doing here?
How did all this get so messed up?
The voices again.
“I bet whoever wrote this means the Order of Saint George,” Molly said. “They were trying to stop scientific progress.” She sat back and gave out a huff. “Well, they didn’t succeed. We know all about evolution and dinosaurs and stuff.”
“Charles Darwin wrote this,” I said, squinting at the text. Well this was a new angle. Charles Darwin.
“Wait, what?” Molly said, sounding just as surprised as I felt.
“Yep,” I replied, smoothing my hand over the letter. No mistaking his famous neat signature. “This is a lot to process. I mean, Darwin and Owen hated each other, yet Owen kept a letter from Darwin?”
“And it’s about how the Order was trying to hide the truth.”
I rubbed my temples. My head was spinning and my knees ached.
It was just fatigue, I told myself. Just fatigue.
Yeah, Sarah, keep telling yourself that.
I closed the journal with a thump. “Okay, let’s do something fun. There is a menu next to the computer, Molly. Why don’t you bring it over and we can order some junk food and watch some TV?”
Molly bit her lip and gave the journal one last pensive glance before looking at me. I nodded toward the table and she grabbed the menu, handing it to me before throwing her body on the other bed, its springs screaming in protest.
“Find something on TV, and I’ll place our order.”
After a few flicks with the TV remote, Molly stopped on a familiar scene. On the screen were two dirty, windswept young children enjoying dessert. Suddenly, the girl’s smile froze and turned to horror. On her spoon, the green Jell-O shook rapidly. The girl and her brother were not alone in the room. Behind them, a dark, bipedal shape stalked slowly behind a screen, snorting and screeching, calling to its mate.
“Jurassic Park,” I said approvingly. I grabbed the phone and pressed a button that connected me to the front desk. While the kitchen was technically closed, they told me they could bring up some fish-and-chips. I ordered two sets and settled down to watch the movie.
“How old were you when you first saw this?” I asked, trying to ignore the rumbling in my stomach that was ignited with the promise of fish-and-chips.
“Six,” Molly said, her eyes not leaving the screen. Right then, the Velociraptor breathed on the kitchen door window, causing us to jump slightly. I knew it was coming, but it was still terrifying, no matter how many times I’d seen it.
“That’s young,” I replied. There was a knock on the door. Wow, that was quicker than I thought it would be. At the door was a man with a large tray. I took it from him. He tipped his hat at me, and I closed the hotel door.
Molly practically vaulted off the bed to the tray. I guess she was as hungry as I was. Smiling, I lifted off the tray’s top. “Violá!” Wrapped in newspaper was a mouthwatering array of fried fish covered with French fries and some sort of vinegar.
“So how in the world did a six-year-old get away with watching Jurassic Park?” I asked after we had gathered up our food and sat on our beds. Greasy fingers and face be damned tonight. I had an actual working shower I could use, and I planned to use it well.
“I did it on the sly, in the middle of the night.”
I put a chip in my mouth and pointed another one at her. “You sneaky girl. Have you read the book?”
She nodded. “What about you?”
“High school. You know, it’s really crazy,” I said, swallowing then frowning.
“What’s crazy? The book?”
“No. Just the appeal,” I said. “I know so many people that got into this business because of those movies. And that book.”
She narrowed her eyes at my words. “You sound like that’s a bad thing.” I guess she could hear the edge to my tone. Oops.
“No, it’s a good thing,” I replied, smiling. But in truth, it was and it wasn’t. There were so many people at this now. And that was good. There was a lot to do and find and argue about in this business. But at the same time, it had become a difficult world, especially academically. Paleo could be a difficult place. Undergrad, grad school. Post-grad, finding a steady job. There weren’t a lot of jobs in this field. Money could be very tight, and competition for funds cutthroat. And Jurassic Park and its sequels created a lot of interest in this field. There were a lot of new, hungry players. Many of these new paleontologists were willing to do whatever it took to make their name in the field. To get the best positions and the grant money. They needed the major finds to do this, of course. Derek called it “making their bones.” And sometimes, good people got trampled and broken.
Molly was still looking at me thoughtfully, waiting for me to say more, but I just turned back to watch the movie. Just in time to watch the Tyrannosaurus rex scream her dominance from the Jurassic Park lobby.
What are you doing here?
How did all this get so messed up?
Youth in All its glory
Oliphant
Most of the patrons had left the inside of the pub when I finally made it downstairs. There were still plenty of people outside, laughing and drinking in earnest.
“And how are you, sir?” the barman said as I sat down on a stool. He was young, barely old enough to drink himself. He had a pasty complexion marred with red spots and a wisp of what could be a beard if it had fertilizer. His hair was greasy and pulled back into one of those fashionable man-buns.
I shot him a wide smile. “Very well, my good man. Ready to imbibe some ridiculously expensive wine.”
“Oh? Are you celebrating tonight?”
“Maybe,” I replied, my eyes skimming the wine list he laid in front of me. “I see you have Chateau Margaux, 2003.” Quite a find.
“Only by the bottle.”
“That’ll be fine.”
The man raised his eyebrows. “It must have been an excellent evening.”
“More . . . intriguing.”
“Oh? Care to share?” the man said, pulling a dark bottle from a locked cabinet behind him. He grabbed a glass from under the bar, and after holding it in the light to make sure it wasn’t dirty, filled it with the bottle’s red liquid.
“You wouldn’t understand,” I said. I held the glass up to the light to see its color. After swirling the wine in my glass and smelling its bouquet, I took a long sip. Perfection.
“Maybe not, but still curious,” the barman said, pouring a beer for a waiting customer. “And anything that requires Chateau Margaux is sure to be fascinating.” He handed the pint to another customer and then leaned on the bar. “Try me.”
I gave him a smirk. “Well, in the last twenty-four hours, I’ve lost probably the most important paleontological specimen since 1842. I’ve traveled almost five thousand miles at the behest of an anonymous package. I’ve found one half of a journal of one of the greatest paleontologists of all time. A journal that would seem to upend the fossil record and also contained a number of strange poems, by the way.”
I took another slow sip, savoring the wine’s chocolate tones. After swallowing it, I turned back to the barman.
“And now, I’m traveling with my favorite grad student, a kid intern, and my worst enemy—who, by the way, I’m forced to share a room with because apparently there are no room vacancies in all of the south of England. Oh, and we have a stalker who pretended to be from the United States government to gain access to our sites and steal our new specimen before we could publish anything. And he followed us to England. Apparently.”
The man gazed at me, his mouth slightly open.
“Yes, I know. It’d be almost too fantastical if I weren’t present for all of it.” I sighed and put my elbows on the bar. “Hence, the need for Chateau Margaux. Lyme Regis is, what, two hours or so from here? I need to get there in the morning. Any traffic?”
