lack of movement, and she did. Slowly, she turned her head and he nodded once.
Not having sight or scent of prey, Ghost roved close behind him, sniffing, searching unsuccessfully.
Hunter moved up the slope and bent to study the old track. He was feeling a slight frustration. There was one long row of a forward pad with claws digging deep for traction, and what resembled the impression of a human heel. The next track on the slope—the left foot—was more than twenty feet away.
This thing had leaped twenty feet with a stride.
No way ...
No way that it could have done that ...
Even a tiger would have had trouble covering more than five feet on this slope. And it gave Hunter pause, forcing him to recheck, to make sure he hadn't missed anything. But after careful study he was certain. No, the forest doesn't care what you want or what you want to believe ...
Clearly this thing had leaped twenty feet.
Hunter tried to convince himself that it was only a temporary strength induced from the overflow of adrenaline that had been coursing through its system at the time. And when Bobbi Jo came up close, he moved forward again. He still couldn't identify the print, but knew it wasn't anything he had seen before.
Maybe something he never wanted to see.
At the Tipler Institute of Crypto-zoology and Paleontology, Rebecca Tanus and Gina Gilbert stared side by side, hands resting on chins, at the plaster cast that had been couriered to them by a military official. The cast, almost sixteen inches long, rested on the table. Their faces only barely concealed the fact that they were profoundly confused.
Rebecca, laboratory director until the return of Dr. Tipler, sighed. "I have a doctorate from Cambridge in ecosystems, a master's in paleontology. I graduated first in my class in historical geology and molecular theory of fossilization. I've spent a year at the most prestigious institute on earth under the tutelage of the greatest paleontologist of our age." She paused, her face only inches from the cast. "And I don't have the foggiest idea what this is."
Gina said nothing; silence lengthened.
With a quick breath that blew a lock of auburn hair out of her eyes, Rebecca continued, "Good grief, Gina. I don't even know where to start." She pondered it, tapping a foot. "Well, it looks human. But it has five non -retractable claws. So, it has claws, ergo—it's not human."
"No," Gina mumbled. "It's not human. But, then, it's not an animal. Because it looks human."
"Uh-huh," Rebecca murmured. She began tapping the table. "So ...it's not human. And it's not animal." Her smile had no humor. "I guess that doesn't really leave us a lot to consider, does it?"
Again, silence.
"Okay." Rebecca roused herself. "Let's try and think like the doc. When he can't identify a fossil, he categorizes it according to the number and shape of appendages, size, location, and age. He places it in a category or phylum and begins to find its family. Then he works down from there. Usually it's a related species of some determined genus we're only vaguely familiar with."
Gina joined in. "Okay. Let's do that. Species: Homo sapiens. Age: One week old."
Silence.
"Well, that didn't really get us very far," the older woman mused. "Look at these." She pointed with a pencil. "Those are five single claws. Big ones, too. Five clawed appendages on what appears to be the foot of a species related to Homo sapiens. Not too likely. So what other species has five appendages?"
Gina didn't really need to think. "Well, there's Homo-habilis, Homo erectus. Then there's apes and big cats and bears—grizzly, Kodiak, brown and black—and, oh, most of the lower terrestrial mammals like wolverine, raccoon, chipmunk, squirrel, porcupine—" Her voice assumed a droning tone. "Then there's beaver, mink, skunk, badgers—"
"Okay, okay." Rebecca cut her a glance. "I got it already."
Neither spoke for a while.
"This is what we'll do," Rebecca started. "We know what it isn't, right? So
Not having sight or scent of prey, Ghost roved close behind him, sniffing, searching unsuccessfully.
Hunter moved up the slope and bent to study the old track. He was feeling a slight frustration. There was one long row of a forward pad with claws digging deep for traction, and what resembled the impression of a human heel. The next track on the slope—the left foot—was more than twenty feet away.
This thing had leaped twenty feet with a stride.
No way ...
No way that it could have done that ...
Even a tiger would have had trouble covering more than five feet on this slope. And it gave Hunter pause, forcing him to recheck, to make sure he hadn't missed anything. But after careful study he was certain. No, the forest doesn't care what you want or what you want to believe ...
Clearly this thing had leaped twenty feet.
Hunter tried to convince himself that it was only a temporary strength induced from the overflow of adrenaline that had been coursing through its system at the time. And when Bobbi Jo came up close, he moved forward again. He still couldn't identify the print, but knew it wasn't anything he had seen before.
Maybe something he never wanted to see.
At the Tipler Institute of Crypto-zoology and Paleontology, Rebecca Tanus and Gina Gilbert stared side by side, hands resting on chins, at the plaster cast that had been couriered to them by a military official. The cast, almost sixteen inches long, rested on the table. Their faces only barely concealed the fact that they were profoundly confused.
Rebecca, laboratory director until the return of Dr. Tipler, sighed. "I have a doctorate from Cambridge in ecosystems, a master's in paleontology. I graduated first in my class in historical geology and molecular theory of fossilization. I've spent a year at the most prestigious institute on earth under the tutelage of the greatest paleontologist of our age." She paused, her face only inches from the cast. "And I don't have the foggiest idea what this is."
Gina said nothing; silence lengthened.
With a quick breath that blew a lock of auburn hair out of her eyes, Rebecca continued, "Good grief, Gina. I don't even know where to start." She pondered it, tapping a foot. "Well, it looks human. But it has five non -retractable claws. So, it has claws, ergo—it's not human."
"No," Gina mumbled. "It's not human. But, then, it's not an animal. Because it looks human."
"Uh-huh," Rebecca murmured. She began tapping the table. "So ...it's not human. And it's not animal." Her smile had no humor. "I guess that doesn't really leave us a lot to consider, does it?"
Again, silence.
"Okay." Rebecca roused herself. "Let's try and think like the doc. When he can't identify a fossil, he categorizes it according to the number and shape of appendages, size, location, and age. He places it in a category or phylum and begins to find its family. Then he works down from there. Usually it's a related species of some determined genus we're only vaguely familiar with."
Gina joined in. "Okay. Let's do that. Species: Homo sapiens. Age: One week old."
Silence.
"Well, that didn't really get us very far," the older woman mused. "Look at these." She pointed with a pencil. "Those are five single claws. Big ones, too. Five clawed appendages on what appears to be the foot of a species related to Homo sapiens. Not too likely. So what other species has five appendages?"
Gina didn't really need to think. "Well, there's Homo-habilis, Homo erectus. Then there's apes and big cats and bears—grizzly, Kodiak, brown and black—and, oh, most of the lower terrestrial mammals like wolverine, raccoon, chipmunk, squirrel, porcupine—" Her voice assumed a droning tone. "Then there's beaver, mink, skunk, badgers—"
"Okay, okay." Rebecca cut her a glance. "I got it already."
Neither spoke for a while.
"This is what we'll do," Rebecca started. "We know what it isn't, right? So
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