Marty Guitierrez allowed himself to relax a bit as he put his beer down. Random chances dropped from the sky as often as summer rain, and that was what all this would boil down to. Random chance. He had to stop reading too much into everything, or he would never get anything done at all. He sighed and shook his head wondering what the probabilities for it.
One in a million, one in a billion? No… it was random after all. A man he'd met long ago would've called it chaos in action, but Marty had never really bought into all that. Surely fate wouldn't twist itself so cruelly, or so strangely? He had no clue, but set his drink away from him.
It had been two days since the arrival in the village, and they were still setting everything up. He'd told the kid to just dump everything in the clearing behind the doctor's tent, which was where they would set up. Half of this shit was learning how to work in the field yourself, as Baxter would no doubt learn in time. Guitierrez just hoped the kid wasn't wasting time and was actually setting up the instruments. This was serious business, and a very serious trip.
Marty looked out to the rest of the bar, seeing the people file in. It was his first time in here, and word seemed to have spread fast throughout the village. Hell, for these past two days he could barely get anything done with setting up camp because everyone came to see the new Americans. Now that he was here, Marty knew his little bit of peace and quiet was likely gone.
Turning to the bartender, he remarked "Whats the story on the other americans?" He knew he had to tread cautiously here, because of these people. It hadn't been easy; he'd been caught badly off guard. Just so damn unexpected.
He noticed a gaunt man sitting next to him on the bar table, hand wrapped in bandages. Guitierrez gave him a look, and the man turned away. Holding his drink closer to himself.
Guitierrez was about to say something when he noticed who'd just arrived in the bar. Frowning, he got up, and was almost at the door when the man moved to block him.
"What's the matter?" Muldoon said, smiling almost paternally. "You seem tense, on edge really."
Guitierrez's mind raced, trying to think of something. Clearly he should've never come to the bar in the first place. Too damn public.
"Are you drunk?" He hissed under his breath. "I'm not supposed to even know you." He tried to move past again but was blocked.
Muldoon placed his hand almost affectionately on Guitierrez's shoulder. "I'm shocked and hurt, I really am." He sighed as if he'd come a far distance. "To see a man again for the longest time, and he just brushes me off."
Guitierrez thought to himself. He's definitely been drinking. He could smell it on the other man's breath. Must have a stockpile of the harder stuff that the bar didn't even carry. He bit his tongue, because he knew he would betray himself if he said what he really wanted to say.
"That was a long time ago, " he said. Turning around he headed back to the direction of the bartender. Clearly the man wasn't going to allow him to leave so he might as well stay in here. Didn't mean he had to talk to him.
Sitting back down he noticed the gaunt man got up. Said something to the barman about having to go feed the birds. Guitierrez shrugged, as he picked his beer back up. Turning to the barman he asked if there was a back exit.
The barman started to say something but Marty motioned for him to be quiet. Muldoon was still watching him, or was he? He held his drink in midair sort of uncertain, until he realized that Muldoon's eyes followed the gaunt man.
He allowed himself to breath a sigh of relief as the two left, Muldoon waiting a couple of minutes to follow the other.
Or at least he was breathing well until the woman came in. Dr. Carter, he faintly remembered that name. She didn't seem to ring any bells in his memory, though something was telling him that it probably should. He had no idea what that feeling was like some sense telling him to wait.
She entered the bar, and walked right up to the stools where he was at. Ordered a beer, then only pretended to notice him then. Marty scoffed a bit inside, the commonest tactic ever. But it worked.
"So sort of research are you planning on conducting here, Dr. Guitierrez?" She asked as she took a drink. For some reason Marty felt himself not wanting to drink any more and put his beer to the side again.
It wasn't that he was bad with women, hell to the no. It was just that he didn't usually like to have distractions in his work. With the only other American for miles maybe being that old fart Muldoon… he could sort of understand.
She was about thirty-two, maybe thirty-four by his guess. Her blond hair was cropped short just at the shoulder, and her bangs wisped over the edge of her face almost to her mouth. She kept pushing her glasses up every time she took a drink.
It looked liked she'd been rummaging though her baggage to try to find a halfway decent outfit for this meeting. Same way it was with all women. Planned up to the hilt. Marty decided that he would just play it casual, cool and professional. Did that explain why he was fidgeting in his seat? Quit it, he mentally told himself.
"I'm actually here on a grant," He said a bit more quickly then he'd thought to. "I'm on sabbatical at Yale right now, doing research for a scholarly paper."
There was an awkward pause as he realized he still hadn't answered her question. She nodded, sympathetically, as if she understood. "Doctors Without Borders just showed up at County General one day out of the blue. Signed up without really thinking about it." She gave him a friendly smile as she moved her bangs bang to the side over her ear. "I was actually here once, not to far from here actually."
"You don't say…" Guitierrez felt like he wanted to leave, but there was something keeping him in his seat. "Actually I'm here to document certain reptiles indigenous to the region. Basilisk lizards and iguanas. I'm going to be studying their habits and role in the ecosystem."
"That's cool," she said. She pushed her glasses in to keep them from slipping off the bridge of her nose. "Say how about we drink to that?" She took a few crumpled dollars out of her pocket. Seemed like they've been creased in preparation for this day. Dropping them on the bar she gestured to the barman. "Get him whatever he wants."
Guitierrez smiled at her, and then pretended to scan the racks. In his head he was wondering where the exit was. Maybe he could just feel the sound of his own heart beating. Maybe he'd just drunk too much. Something told him maybe it was all of these things together.
Absentmindedly, he picked out one, and it was only when the man put it in front of him that he discovered he'd taken the hard scotch.
"You like your drinks stiff, don't you Dr. Guitierrez," Roberta laughed in an off hand sort of way. "Just to let you know, if you ever need anything during your stay." She sort of leaned over grasping her drink while smiling at him. "How long did you say you were going to be here?"
Marty took a drink, then put one hand to his head like he had enough. "Just about a couple months I think," Really that was the truth and all that the grant had covered, even with minimal equipment on his part. Nodding to her, he got up trying to smile but not really succeeding.
"Well I got to go," he said, slowly backing away still clutching the scotch. He noticed her face fell just a bit because they both understood the reason why. Out the corner of his eye, Marty's heart skipped a beat. He saw a backdoor, just the one he'd been looking for.
"Well…" Roberta sighed as she lifted her drink one last time. "Well, I don't know… maybe we can do this again some other time?"
"Wait…" he said, trying to just let her know it wasn't like that. He stopped himself, knowing that he probably already said too much.
"It's all right," she said. "I understand."
Marty grunted noncommittally, and hurriedly pushed the door open. Feeling the cold night air upon his face he leaned against the outside wall for what seemed like the longest time. He took a few deep breaths, feeling like the worst man alive.
He took a few more drinks as he walked along the outside wall, shaking his head. The drink was getting to him a bit faster then he'd thought it would. At the least Marty wouldn't sleep well that night or at all. Seems like the five minutes he'd snuck away from helping the kid set up had turned into an hour.
Calamity of his head, he felt cranky like ten stiffs. He felt vaguely bad about leaving her back in the bar. He knew that if he went in to apologize she would pretend not to care, maybe give him the cold shoulder.
Ah hell, he'd just let his nerve take him again. Maybe she'd just thought to introduce herself to the new guy, and he'd read it the wrong way. Maybe so, maybe so. But he doubted he'd get a second chance.
His nose wrinkled a bit as he noticed the smell all of a sudden. Right at the back of this bar it seemed they dumped all their garbage out, huge pile right there. Only way no one noticed it seemed was because there was a large grove of trees just beyond.
He started to walk around the trash heap but something caught his eye. He blinked, looking suspiciously at the bottle hoping it was the cause for what he was seeing. Marty rubbed his eyes again. Just to be sure. It was definitely not the damned bottle.
He threw it to the floor as he took a cautious step closer. In the dim light from the bar he could barely make out the form crouching by the edge of the trash heap. It was about the height of his knee, and he could see its mottled green skin from here.
It was about four feet long, and two feet high, and even just guessing from here Marty could tell it wasn't fully-grown yet.
Somewhere in the distance he could hear an owl hooting but that was in the back of his mind right now. Standing in front of him was something the like of which he'd only ever seen dead. He remembered long ago two separate times on two separate beaches… once alone and one with that other fellow…
The light illuminated the animal, and he could see it clearly now. There was no mistaking it, even as it ignored him. Still eating off the trash heap, probably never ventured out of the trees before.
It was a dinosaur, a goddamned dinosaur. Marty had been hoping that the rumours of survival in the mountains had been only that, but it didn't seem to be the case. It didn't seem to be the same kind as the one on the beach but he couldn't be sure.
Leaning against the outer wall, he held his breath as not to give his position away. He bumped into a shovel leaning against the side, and barely managed to catch it before it fell.
The animal turned to face him, standing up for the first time. Bipedal, he said to himself, noticing that its legs looked muscular. Or at least developing anyway.
Marty hadn't taken any paleontology classes, not even as electives in his senior year. But he had done some research of his own after his visit to Costa Rica ten years ago…
It seemed like a dream, the animal didn't even notice him as he approached silently. Marty wasn't even aware himself that he was holding the shovel until it was raised over his head.
By then it was too late to do anything about that as it came down. The animal was caught by surprise and stunned. Marty swung again and again.
Panting heavily, he dropped the shovel on the ground, against the prone form of the animal. It's neck had been broken by the severity of the blows, and its eyes were glassing over.
He picked it up, and it was not heavy. Cradling it in his arms, he tried to figure out what to do. Obviously he had to hide it somewhere. This was beyond the scope of his trip.
All he'd wanted was to pass this trip without incident. Looking down at the dying animal, Marty hoped that the animal was alone or at least not recurring in this area.
Hell if they were the villagers would've spotted them already he told himself. This was another one of those one in a million chances. Something panged at him again… then what had Dr. Carter been? Shut up, he told himself again, what's past is past.
He thought about hiding it in his tent, but that kid could scarcely be trusted to keep a secret like this. Last thing he wanted was the Costa Rican Government here, interfering. No Marty could take care of this very well on his own.
He set it down in the shade of the trees, watching its chest silently heave up and down. Slowly and carefully, he covered it with trash until it looked like a natural extension of the pile. That should do for now.
Marty set the shovel aside and was about to go back in the bar when he felt a shiver down his spine. The owl hooted again, this time closer to him.
And somewhere in the distance he heard a scream.