Zelda suggested I should vamoose. I mean, we did have Webby with us. We could run away, find some nice place to hide and stay there until everyone finished with the operation.

But I worried about Cynthia, and the fire. Kinda wanted to see what was going on over there. Plus she might lose her job if I ran off...And possibly not be so sympathetic when it came to selling me to...Cruella DeVille or whoever they decided to give me to.

I tried to explain this to Zelda, but she argued that we needed to get as far away from the humans as possible and find some way to remove the collars.

I suggested she should leave on her own and get someplace safe, but she flashed her ring and growled "oooife."

I swallowed hard, stomach flip flopping. this could ruin my friendship with Cynthia forever...

Of course, Cynthia already did that with the collars, and the 'selling my family ' thing . "You're right. but where should we go?"

She suggested Hammond's place.

"I don't know if that's such a great idea. She'll probably look there."

'Look for Heffalump?'

"No, I don't think we should put him in danger like that."

'I don't want to go to the tomb again.'

"Yeah, not very romantic or safe. Even though I doubt the humans would want to go down there. How about we hang out in The Park somewhere? Nobody would be expecting that."

'They will try to find you where you're comfortable.'

"And you say I'm the smart raptor. Fine, let's just look around this island and try to find a new home."

We darted into the thick cover of overgrown prehistoric plants, off in some random direction. I kept having flashbacks of Cassie's dad chasing me around with his gun. Didn't particularly relish being dropped with darts that could kill a person before they even felt the dart. I mean, I'm not too much bigger than a human, right?

The ground rose on an incline. We kept our heads low, especially when vegetation thinned out, creeping around trees...that actually happened to be trees.

No sign of Heffalump anywhere. He'd done the smart thing and made himself truly scarce.

"Albert!" called a faint voice in the distance. "Albert!"

I froze, listening carefully.

"You'd better be taking a dump, because if you're running away, I've got a device in my hand that can make you very uncomfortable!"

I slowly put more distance between us.

"Do you know what GPS means? Global positioning system! That's a satellite! I can pinpoint your location anywhere in the world! I'd rather you come out willingly rather than dropping you with tranqs and dragging you back to camp after we find your unconscious ass, but suit yourself! If you want to play hard ball, we can play hard ball!"

The whole situation reminded me oddly of Adam and Eve from Genesis: "Why are you hiding in the bushes? Did you do something wrong?"

I explained the GPS thing to Zelda.

She growled in frustration. 'You need to find a way to remove these collars.'

I jumped up and down waving my arms. "Don't tase me! Just...pinching a loaf! I'll be down in a minute!"

I rushed down to the stream bed.

Cynthia eyed me with suspicion. "Why were you crapping way up there?"

"You like to have a cute bathroom, I like to poop around beautiful scenery."

"Like my apartment?"

"C'mon, that was Buttface! I do my business in regulation areas!"

"Like the hallway of that building we were in."

"That's different I was scared, and I don't wear underwear. You'd do the same thing if you didn't wear underwear...Hey, by the way...Why did you act like Heffalump isn't real? We've been hanging out for days, and you know as well as I that he's real!"

Cynthia cast me a shifty look worthy of Richard Nixon, her tone of voice...also not reflecting honesty. "It's child psychology, Albert. I play along with you, pretend like your imaginary friend is real. It's just healthy play, like having a little tea party with bears. I can't put that on an official report or tell anyone about it...that's just silly."

I rubbed my head in frustration. "Are you telling me I'm crazy? That I'm hallucinating things? I saw Heffalump! I touched him! He has an odor! I'm telling you, he's real!"

Cynthia only shrugged. "I dunno, Albert. Maybe you are having a...dino crisis." She put a hand on my back. "Albert...Mister Heffalump will always be with you. He's a part of you, because you made him up."

I just kept shaking my head no.

Since I could not convince her that Heffalump actually existed, I changed the subject. "So what caught fire? That part was real, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, there was a fire, but it's nothing. We just had a little...stowaway...they decided to make a campfire and cook hot dogs."

I feigned ignorance. "Really! Where was she hiding?"

Cynthia looked suspicious, hands on her hips. "How do you know it's a she?"

The girl I'd seen through the vent now sat on a large rock next to camper, reading a book with a black and gold cover. pink shirt, jean shorts, possibly not the best attire for a bug infested jungle.

Zelda glanced at her, then cast me a weary look.

Since Cynthia had gone inside to use the bathroom, I could safely mutter to my wife in raptorese without being understood. `Be nice to this human girl. She might be able to help us with the collars.'

My wife gave me a slight nod, but watched with unease as the girl picked Webby up and petted her head.

The stowaway stiffened somewhat when Ian sat down and put his arm around her. "Albert, meet our little stowaway, my daughter Kelly."

"Nice to meet you. What are you reading?"

She dropped the book when she heard my voice, trembled and pressed close to `Dad' when she saw me. "Did you just talk?"

I nodded. "I can read, too."

"My daughter is very smart. tested out of a few grades."

The girl stammered, "It's uh, called Butterfly and Diving Bell. I started reading it while I was hiding inside the ceiling and peeing in a jar for hours."

"Really? I think you should see a doctor about that!"

"No, I mean, I was hiding in the ceiling for hours, and they didn't have a bathroom up there, so I used a jar."

"Hmm. It would be hard to fit a toilet up there. What's the book about?"

"Some French guy gets stuck in an iron lung, and he writes a book...by blinking. It's really sad."

"I bet you'd write some really weird stuff from that position."

"Not really. Mostly he says he's lonely and uncomfortable and wants to go outside. Really depressing. I wouldn't have read it if they had other books in here."

I smirked. "Hey, it tells you how much you have to be thankful for, to be able to move around and talk and use your claws, hands."

"Guess that's true."

She offered me the book, but I raised my claw to decline. "Thanks, but I think I'll get my own copy."

Webby bonked her head against Zelda, clawed and nipped at her like kitten playing with an old tomcat. My wife tolerated this, giving her the kind of safe sparring a mother raptor often gives their young to toughen them up. Yes, she would grow up to be a weird Parasaurolophus.

I stared at Sarah's team, now busy at work destroying evidence of the fire, sealing up bags of food, preparing various scientific tools. "What's all that about?"

"Containment," Sarah said. "We're trying to minimize our impact on the ecosystem here, to give our research complete scientific purity. That campfire wasn't a good start."

Eddie pitched a last shovelful of dirt over the remains of the fire. "I'm not carrying that kid."

Kelly scoffed. "Good. `Cuz you ain't carrying me. I can walk."

Ian rose to his feet. "Walk, nothing! You're going home! I'll radio the boat. We'll all go to the lagoon and wait for them."

Sarah crossed her arms. "Ian, you sound like my high school principal. Lighten up."

"I'm her father."

She only scoffed.

"Where's your mother?" I asked the girl.

Kelly responded with an indifferent shrug.

Her father continued scolding. "Anyway, Kelly, it's too dangerous here. You gotta go home."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "So it's too dangerous for her, but not for us."

"I'd say the same thing to you, if you were twelve."

"You're wrong, Dad. I can take care of myself. I know what's going on this island."

"Yeah? How?"

"Because I believed all those stories you told people. Nobody else believed you, but I always did." To me, the speech seemed a tad...rehearsed, or maybe just...insincere. She pointed at me. "And here's the proof!"

Although I could hear Eddie scoffing behind me, Ian seemed...moved by what she said. I suppose it pays to know your audience.

"Ian," Sarah said. "We can't bring in that boat again. That'd be two invasive landings in one day. People would say our findings were contaminated. You know how the academic world can eat you alive if they find one fault...We have to be one hundred percent antiseptic. Can't even bend one blade of grass the wrong way."

"Ummm..." I blurted. "About that...Didn't you guys hear the helicopters?"

Ian stood up. "You know, I did find that a little unusual for such a remote area..."

"He was too busy yelling at me to notice," Kelly said.

The man looked embarrassed. "I did just discover a stowaway in the vehicle..."

I pointed toward the jungle. "And what about all that banging and crashing out there? Did you hear that?"

"That's not...more dinosaurs making love?"

I slowly shook my head.

I led them to a ridge with a good view of the strangers and their equipment, pressing ourselves low to the ground, behind foliage for concealment.

Not army people as I originally assumed, just twenty wild hunter guys in varying outfits, camo, safari gear...They rushed about preparing weapons, studying maps, revving up Jeeps and dune buggy looking things...They had a perimeter fence set up with laser sensors and sparking electrical things, maybe something with laser beams (though you know you can't actually see laser beams except in movies like Star Wars. Just like red dots and mirrors. I only conjectured about them having laser fences based on how they resembled the checkout things in grocery stores I'd seen in pictures).

"So much for the contamination issue," Ian muttered.

Zelda took one look at the scene below, gasped, and darted down the trail.

"Zelda!" Cynthia gasped. "Get your butt back here!"

Eddie raised his `dinosaur shocker fob,' but Cynthia gave a frantic wave no. "I'll get her. Probably safer this way anyway." She ran after my wife.

In the hunter camp, some guy in Banana Republic clothes stood around passing large laminated cards to all the hunter guys...pictures of dinosaurs, apparently, for he shouted things like "Hadrosaurus! Carinthosaurus! Maiasaurus!"

I jokingly raised a claw and said, "Here."

My companions, horrified, shushed me and forced my claw down.

"Sorry, couldn't resist." I glanced at Sarah. "What happened to the kids you were with?"

She gave me a blank stare. "Who?"

"You know! You helped them down that dinosaur skeleton...Tim...and Lex?"

Sarah gave a dismissive wave. "They're fine. Went back to their parents, with a story about them getting attacked on regular safari with normal animals. Probably won't be allowed to visit South America for the rest of their lives!"

She kept peering through her binoculars.

"Seeing anything down there?" Ian muttered.

"Nothing." She passed the binoculars to Ian. "Just a dinosaur scavenger hunt, and Neanderthals establishing their pecking order."

We observed.

Kelly crept up beside me to get a better look at the encampment, Webbigail wiggling in between us, because she wanted to be a big girl.

Webby farted. And farted. And farted.

"You...okay over there, Webby?" I stammered.

The grunted something about her tummy not feeling well. She broke wind again.

Eddie grimaced in disgust. "Not sure which is worse: The diesel exhaust, or your pet's methane production."

"What have you been feeding her?" Sarah asked.

All the vehicles roared to life, hunters whooping and jumping in seats, filling the air with more smog as they rolled out of the encampment, carelessly smashing through jungle foliage.

Ian frowned. "That's...not good."

As the men disappeared, Eddie cried, "Ian! Why didn't you tell us about these guys!"

Malcolm's face flushed red. "Me? How was I supposed to know? This is news to me too!"

Nick waved diesel exhaust out of his face. "What's next? Littering the island with beer bottles and old tires?"

Sarah sighed and rubbed her face like she had a headache. "So much for all the scientific research."

I scratched my head. "I don't get it. You liked the idea of capturing me, and you brought along a gun powerful enough to bring down a T-Rex, but you didn't come to capture dinosaurs?"

Nick laughed. "Albert, c'mon! You saw our rig! Where are we going to store a friggin' T-Rex? It's just for protection."

Kelly took a look through the binoculars. "What's In-Gen?"

Malcolm wrinkled his brow. "Where'd you see that?"

She handed him the binoculars. "It's on a bunch of stuff down there."

The man scowled when he saw the items. "Damn."

Sarah frowned at him. "I thought you said Hammond still had control over the operation."

"I also said he'd fallen in disfavor with The Board. I guess this is one of these `Left hand doesn't know what the right is doing' type of things. Knowing Hammond was ill, they must have gone in behind his back and done all this..."

I shivered. "So I am going to some horrible `oldschool' zoo?"

"Well, if these barbarians are in charge, I wouldn't be a bit surprised."

Eddie smacked his head. "That's just great. No recognition for my work, now probably no pay."

"Oh, I'm sure somebody will want that footage..."

"Those guys destroyed a Mayan tomb," I said. "They built a factory right on top of it."

Ian didn't look surprised at all. "What? A company that doesn't care about ethical use of science also paying no respect to the historical artifacts of indigenous people? Shocking!"

Sarah gritted her teeth. "We'd better follow them."

"What have you done to me, John?" Malcolm muttered as the others departed.

I put my claw on his shoulder. "I ask myself that every day."

We rushed from hill to hill, observing the visitors' progress. At first, we had great hopes for their failure, as they drove into a herd of Pachycephalosauruses, and the herd didn't take kindly to being rammed by motor vehicles.

A Pachycephalosaurus, as you know, has a very hard skull. They remind me oddly of friars, with the cul-de-sac of horns around a bald head. I think they'd make great football players, because they don't even need helmets, they just crash into other dinosaurs.

We cheered as these dull, thick headed creatures bashed the Jeeps and dune buggies, dented the metal, knocked them on their sides, wheels spinning, guys crawling beneath the vehicles for safety.

Unfortunately, the hunters took little time to recover. When the herd harrumphed and stampeded away, the men set about getting their vehicles upright and in working order.

"We should do something," Sarah muttered.

Malcolm smoothed his hair. "Like what, exactly? Plant explosives? We didn't exactly pack for a war."

"How about we send Albert and his female down there and disembowel a few of them?" Eddie suggested.

I raised my claws in protest. "You got me confused with another raptor. I don't go around killing humans willy-nilly."

Ian nodded. "And I appreciate that. To be honest, you're outnumbered, and the only thing you're going to do by running down there is draw attention to yourself and give them a box to check off on their little scavenger hunt."

"Did I mention I know Kung Fu?"

"You're wearing a shock collar. What does that tell you?"

More helicopters (or maybe the same ones) buzzed by overhead. It seemed they'd been busy dropping stuff off while we'd been watching the `show.' The hunters below us got on radios, then, after a few excited shouts, the whole motorcade sped off across the plain.

Took us awhile to catch up. Hungry work, too. No convenient time to grab lunch. Webby kept eating grass...possible reason for her stomach upset? Again, we took positions of concealment.

We watched with dismay, through binoculars, as the hunters (with reinforcements) dialed up their `dinosaur rustling' skills:

A fleet of vehicles, Jeeps, a motorcycle, a mini Jeep, and trucks, rumbling around a panic stricken herd of vegan dinosaurs, herding them toward a big airbag lined container truck. They employed some form of a lasso, and an immense mechanical arm. Clods of dirt flew into the air as Hadrosaurs, Pachycepholosaurs and Gallimimuses thundered right into the hunters' hands.

They brought down a large Corinthosaur with tranquilizers, binding its legs with bolos. It looked so much like one of Webby's relatives that she whimpered and pressed against me for comfort.

A man jolted the Corinthosaur with a cattle prod, injected it with something while another man tagged the poor creature.

It seemed all the effort had been for this one dinosaur, for once they had it loaded on a truck, they began dispersing, apparently in search of a different animal.

A rock struck me in the side of the head. I yelped, rubbing my skull. "Ow! What the heck!"

The others shushed me.

I lowered my voice. "Okay, okay! But something tells me we're not alo—"

I got shushed again, this time from somewhere below my hiding spot, and off to the left.

"Heffalump?" I whispered.

"What are you talking about?" a voice hissed. "Read the note!"

The rock did have a piece of paper wrapped around it, which I unfurled.

Ran away from home. Snuck into chopper. Dont tell anyone Im here. Need food.

—Michelangelo.

I leaned over the ridge, staring in disbelief. "Cassie?"

[0000]

I'm sure you're excited to find out what happens next, but I bet you also want to know what happened in that other story, you know, a few days previous, when Heffalump popped into Hammond's house and scared everybody.

Cynthia fumed with her arms crossed. The cavern became so quiet that you could hear moisture popping off the stalactites. Drip drip.

A low fog clung in the air, permeating everything with a touch of damp. I imagine the papers and dry goods and whatnot to not be in the best shape...Already I could see wet marks and mildew spots on some of the items, rot setting into the wooden crates, and, obviously, a mildew scent.

The brown, pigtailed girl sat beneath a disused vibrating belt machine, clad in an oversized Menudo (mariachi band) t-shirt with Rubik the Amazing Cube on it, raggedy bell bottoms. Her sneakers, also not in the best shape, bore the image of that fuzzy white thing from Rainbow Brite. She'd found a hand grip strengthener, and kept squeezing it.

Cynthia glowered at the brown, pigtailed girl. "Little lady, where are your parents?"

I don't think the girl understood, or didn't want to, for she answered, "Si es demasiado dificíl, tomaré sobras o ensalada o perritos calientes o una cena de television." Squeak, squeak went the hand strengthener.

Cynthia only rolled her eyes and snatched the exercise device from her hand. "¡Dónde está tu familia!"

The girl pointed to a tunnel.

Cynthia clenched her fists and yelled. "Aaaaugh! I can't tell if you're serious or you're being a little smartass!" She paced back and fort, rubbing her head in frustration.

After a moment's thought, she stomped up to the girl again. "¿Quién es su papá? ¿Dónde trabaja? ¿Dónde vive?"

The girl chose to answer only one question. "Vivo en la isla con me hermano." And then she toyed with a springloaded chest expander.

I attempted to make lasagna, but it came out blackened, the sheet pasta too crunchy to begin with. Oh, and I probably shouldn't have tried cooking it in the fireplace. Smoke everywhere. I, uh, hadn't opened the flue. We had to open all the windows and doors and plug in fans. And that was before I used the oven.

Cynthia, anticipating my failure, had a frozen pizza and fish prepared as a replacement. The girl complained that the pizza was cold in the middle, and the fish had too many little bones.

Cynthia put her hands on her hips, flushing red. "Look, missy. I didn't have to cook you anything, so you'd better eat it, and enjoy all the work I put into it...Well, the fish, at least."

We stared at the girl as she silently picked at her fish.

Cynthia microwaved the undercooked pizza. "So you're the famous Araceli."

"Sí, soy yo." the girl resumed picking fish bones in mute silence.

I glanced at Cynthia. "Not much of a talker, is she?"

The woman leaned on a counter. "You know, I had plans for tonight and tomorrow. I was going to get park stuff done, maybe a little R&R afterwards. Now I gotta worry about someone's runaway kid!"

She searched Araceli like a police woman, but only found a comb, gum, some Pesos and a couple glass `dragon tears.' "Great. No ID, and the kid's stonewalling. They're going to think I'm a kidnapper...but I can't just tell her to go away, because she might get mauled by a dinosaur. I also can't just leave, because I have to babysit dinosaurs. What to do..."

Cynthia tried contacting Mister Arnold on the satphone, but nobody answered. She tried again, left a message. "Well, I guess that's about all I can do..."

Heffalump, in the meantime, had been rummaging through the bookshelves and videos. Something fell off a shelf and shattered.

Cynthia rushed to clean up. "Hey! Careful there, Heffy! You're like a bull in a China shop! Careful!"

"Lo siento, señorita." But his hindquarters broke a glass table and a vase when he backed up.

He held a little framed picture out to her. "Eres tu, no?"

Excited to learn about my friend, I rushed up to get a better look.

A photo of a bunch of staff people, all in shirts bearing a symbol suspiciously similar to the Jurassic Park logo...

"Magical Dragons Roller Coaster Park?" I read.

"Decoy shirts. Hammond said he got the idea from George Lucas's `Blue Harvest' jackets...Funny, I don't remember posing for this picture."

Bryan stood beside her, making bunny ears behind her head. I pointed.

"Yeah, such a dork."

Araceli got on her tiptoes to examine the picture.

Her eyes got big. "Papa!" She jabbed the picture with her finger. "¡Es mi papa! Wow! ¿Donde fue tomada esta foto?"

Cynthia rubbed her temples. "I...I don't know. No se." She squinted. "Oh, wait...That's that building that had all the bats and giant insects inside. Damn, I thought I recognized that place! I just never went inside before!...And your dad worked with me...shit, what was his name?"

"El nombre de me papa es Sergio. Dijo que fue atacado por un monstruo y ahora bebe todo el tiempo." She made drinking gestures with her hand, indicating her father was an alcoholic.

Cynthia's whole manner abruptly changed, from red faced cross irritation, to...`Welcome to the family, little sister.' "Damn, you too, huh?" She gave the girl a consoling pat on the shoulder.

Heffalump pointed to a misshapen moss covered rock in the foreground. "Qué es esto?"

"That's just a rock, Heffy."

Heffalump reached his trunk into Araceli's shirt, drawing out a pendant. Crafted from jade and stone, the object appeared to be of ancient Aztec manufacture...the design a sun-like motif.

The same design appeared to be chiseled into the moss covered rock, barely noticeable if you weren't looking for it.

"Okay...that's weird. But what's the connection? What's so important about that?"

He just whistled Short Round's themefrom Indiana Jones.

"Cute, Heffalump, but we don't really have time to go on a treasure hunt. This kid's father—"

Cynthia couldn't finish the sentence. A green glow now pulsated from within Araceli's pendant.

She pulled it off the girl's neck, her expression of disbelief growing the more she stared at it. "Wait, how is it doing that? That thing's got to be a million years old!"

Araceli only shrugged.