James Smith - The Flock

"Good eye," Kate admitted. "Gopher tortoise. A big one, too. Probably pushed out of its home by someone building a house over its burrowing ground. Salutations is displacing all kinds of animal populations. You'd be surprised at the things we're documenting."

"What do you mean?" Mary asked. "Most of that place was a military base for sixty years or more."

"Longer than that," she said, bringing up the next image, this one an alligator in a drainage ditch. "But the base was pretty compact. Most of the construction was very limited. Not much of a human population was here after about 1950, and before that it wasn't much to talk about and they were packed in here in some old Quonset type barracks. But now the studio boys are really creating some urban sprawl out here. They shouldn't be allowed to, but they are. Government's working hand in hand with them," she added. Once more Ron did an inward wince.

"Look," Mary offered. "Why don't you skip ahead a few pictures? Whatever got him in trouble was probably later on."

"Good thinking," Ron admitted. "Try that, Kate. Let's see what's on the ninth or tenth shot."

"Will do," she said. And soon they were looking at what appeared to be a hastily taken shot of bear grass and palmettos.

"Nothing there," Kate said.

But Mary's dark index finger was jotting at the screen, actually touching it. The terminal shivered each time she poked. "No. Look there. What's that? At the bottom. There."

"What the hell," Ron said.

Kate froze. And even Mary, who was not watching her every move, as Ron was, noticed.

"Seen that before?" Mary asked.

Kate was silent. All three of them peered close, leaning into the screen, looking at what appeared to be a scaly, three-toed foot of reptilian origin. "What the hell is it?" Ron asked.

"Look. Let's see the next one," Mary insisted. Kate just continued to stare at the screen, and only slowly complied with the command. Once again they were waiting as the terminal filled with image, line by line.

This time, they were all stunned by what they were seeing. Ron's mouth opened in amazement. Mary squinted, not believing what she was seeing. Kate sat stony-faced, quiet, almost in a kind of silent anger.

"It's a trick," Mary said.

"It's a dinosaur," Ron said. Then, his mind locked on the same track: "It's a dinosaur."

"Can't be," Niccols again insisted. "It's some kind of computer graphics, I'm telling you."

Finally, Kate stirred. She shoved back violently, pushing both Mary and Ron out of her way. They parted for her as she rolled to a halt beyond them, her eyes fiery with anger. Despite what was on the screen, they turned to look at the woman, her attractive face a bit frightening with the rage seething just beneath the surface.

"It's no trick," she said hoarsely. "It's the real thing."

Ron and Mary looked at one another, back at the screen, back to Kate.

"You knew about this?" they asked, almost in unison.

"We knew about it," she said. "And now those bastards at Berg Brothers know, too. And apparently they're willing to kill over it."

"Grief," Mary said.

"Grief says it pretty well, indeed." Kate was nodding solemnly.

Out in the shelter of the trees and the savanna, the Flock was bedding down for the day. Only the youngsters and the smallest chicks still stirred in the growing light. Soon, even those would have to cease their youthful fidgeting. It couldn't be allowed, especially on a day with a cloudless sky. The huge golden eye would be staring down at them for a long stretch, and they all knew what could happen if it spied upon you. The Flock had learned well over the generations. There were none in the forests as adept at hiding as they. There were things they could do that were unimaginable to the Man from whom they hid. They had quite a collection of tricks.

Soon, all movement ceased. Even respiration went into a lower gear. The Flock rested, a few remaining alert to taste the wind, eyes wide to watch for even the slightest sign of danger.

Walks Backward had chosen his mate. The female would be his, would bear his clutch after he had gained control of the unit. Indeed, he had already stolen a secret moment and begun a courting dance with her. She would not sing of it. Not until the battle between himself and Egg Father had been fought and he had emerged victorious. And even if he lost, she must sing a tune of lamentation, for which she would be killed, of course. But Walks Backward would not lose.

What had set him off was the latest appearance of the Scarlet. The rogue had come into the meal circle after the latest hunt and had stolen a great deal of flesh, taking it for himself. Nothing had been done to prevent it, and nothing had been done after the thievery. And then, some hours later, during the bedding in the early glow of dawn, once more the foolish one had rushed among them; he had tried to cull out one of the young females-one not yet even old enough to lay. It was obvious what he was doing, to all and to himself. Only the intervention of the Egg Mother had prevented the huge rebel from taking the female away with him.

She had rushed at him, and the Scarlet, confused at the belligerency of his own mother, had turned and run back into the forests. And his voice had been raised high enough for any creature to hear. Even men.

After that, the Flock had hunkered down for the day, letting sedges and branches and leaves cover them, their own silence and camouflaging doing the rest. It was after that moment that Walks Backward had come to the conclusion he had known he must reach. The Flock would soon become his complete responsibility. There would be a new Walks Backward to watch the rear and hide the sign. And he would take over as Egg Father. His name would change. He wanted to sing his new name, but realized that must wait. When night came, after they had rested hidden all the day, he would sing his song of challenge.

And, later, he would sing another song. One that would doom the Scarlet and save them all. He only hoped there was time.

Levin was furious. Not at being called suddenly back from what he had hoped was going to be a rewarding stay in the bush, but at the outside discovery of their carefully guarded secrets. He was dangerously close to losing control of his emotions.

"This is crazy, Kate. Why the hell did you let them know?" On a hunch, after he and his companion had parted company with Holcomb, he'd radioed back to the compound. Kate had told him to come back, to bring Vance, if possible. But Vance was long gone and maintaining radio silence, as he almost always did in the backcountry.

Ron and Mary were there, standing quietly while the biologist pointed at them from across the lab, where they had all gathered. Mary was not amused at Levin's anger and was not going to sit still and be docile for long. Ron, by contrast, remained stunned by what they had so far discovered, and was confused as to how he should act or where he should next proceed. In addition to finding that the wilderness that had formerly been a bombing range was the last redoubt for a species of predatory ground birds, he was also concerned over any laws he had broken concerning his contact with the dead reporter. In fact, he was only barely aware of the screaming tech.

"I didn't let them find out anything. They found it out independently of me, you sanctimonious bastard." Kate was easily as angry as her fellow employee and her color was rising, her face flushed with anger and her eyes like frozen jots of ice. "What was I supposed to do? Kill them?"

That seemed to stun Levin for a second, and it looked to Riggs as if the man was actually considering it as a viable alternative. He did respond, though. "But you didn't have to confirm what they were seeing. Those photos could have been faked, for God's sake. That's all they had to know." In fact, Levin was almost in tears. His chest hitched with every other breath, and Ron had figured it was only his anger that had so far kept the man from breaking down and crying like a heartbroken fool.