Triassic Tango

By Sean Ryan

Viviana Papadakis needs to tell you something. Dinosaurs are still alive. Don't freak out. Sometimes extinct animals pop into the present – long story how. Viv's family business is wrestling them into submission (not literally, she's tiny) before they eat anyone…or go viral. From a homemade underground complex in Nevada, her team dashes around the world, keeping triceratops and dragons from the public eye. (Dragons are real, by the way.)

 

Viv doesn't need her life to get more interesting...but it will. A college flame, Ethan, has joined the team. Challenging missions – from Japan to Mexico to Ukraine – will pit her against the largest creatures that have ever walked the earth. A legend from the old West will appear …and he's not bad looking. The most dangerous figure of all, though, is someone from the distant past with a plan to destroy the world in order to save it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sean Ryan
• Release date: Apr 25, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224720552

Sean Ryan

Sean Ryan lives in New Jersey with his family and zero hadrosaurs hiding in the backyard. Yes, absolutely zero, no need to look around, you won't find anything, don't even bother. 

Book preview

Viviana Papadakis needs to tell you something. Dinosaurs are still alive. Don’t freak out. Sometimes extinct animals pop into the present – long story how. Viv’s family business is wrestling them into submission (not literally, she’s tiny) before they eat anyone...or go viral. From a homemade underground complex in Nevada, her team dashes around the world, keeping triceratops and dragons from the public eye. (Dragons are real, by the way.)

Viv doesn’t need her life to get more interesting...but it will. A college flame, Ethan, has joined the team. Challenging missions – from Japan to Mexico to Ukraine – will pit her against the largest creatures that have ever walked the earth. A legend from the old West will appear ...and he’s not bad looking. The most dangerous figure of all, though, is someone from the distant past with a plan to destroy the world in order to save it.

PART ONE

1

Viviana Papadakis paused outside the coffee shop before going in. He’d say yes. Of course he would. It was a job offer, and a cool one, even if she couldn’t tell him exactly how cool. 

Viv was wearing a sleeveless shirt of less than ideal formality, covering a leather jacket. The jacket was a muted green that looked brown until someone got close, and tailored so it didn’t hang down to her knees. She was wearing her second-best pair of jeans, not the ones that made her butt look good but the comfortable ones. Her green Converse were in terrible shape. She had a tan leather satchel around her shoulder that doubled as a purse and messenger bag.

Viv pushed open the coffee shop door and was hit by a wave of air conditioning. Even though she lived in Nevada, she didn’t truly appreciate air conditioning until she visited south Florida. She found Ethan Quillant toward the back, with two paper cups at a tiny two-person table, perched on a stool. He was about six feet tall, still college skinny, with light-brown gelled hair. Ethan was dressed in a dark gray suit with a white shirt and dark blue tie: the same outfit he wore last time. His best suit, or his only one. Viv wondered how many suits someone needed when their current job was feeding alligators. Hold on, the tie was different. Last time his tie was crimson. This one had little alligators on it.

Ethan stood up when he saw her, almost knocking his stool backwards. Hi! he said, just a bit too loud to be casual.

Sorry I’m late, Viv said, feeling awkward offering a handshake instead of a hug. He shook it politely. Parking was a bit of a problem.

Should have come here by boat, Ethan said. He looked much more relaxed than Viv felt, despite this being Ethan’s job interview. Fort Lauderdale is the Venice of America.

Venice?

We have canals.

Oh yeah. I think I knew that. Viv and Ethan went to college together. He had grown up in the Everglades.

OK. I got you a coffee. You can doctor it over there.

Thanks, you didn’t have to do that, Viv said. She was a tea drinker: if he knew that about her, he had forgotten it. She took a small sip of scalding bitter coffee, then breathed through her mouth to pretend it was tea. Let me fix this up. At the bar, she dumped in six packets of artificial sweetener, vanilla powder, and enough skim milk to spill over the edge.

At the mirror over the bar, Viv gave herself a quick check. Her caramel skin was free of blemishes. She could probably use some makeup, but she never wore anything more than lip balm. Her hair looked fine: long, black, pulled back from her face. She still got carded at 25 years old, which was sometimes flattering and sometimes height discrimination – she was 4’10".

Viv placed her coffee on the table, next to a leather portfolio of Ethan’s. These were high stools: Ethan’s feet didn’t touch the ground, and he was tall. She climbed into her seat like it was a lifeguard station.

You said you were coming to the Everglades, Ethan said. Why were you here? Viv hesitated, not sure how to answer. He wasn’t hired yet, not yet privy to all the secrets. Ethan nodded. You can’t say. He held up his hand in a backing-off gesture. Got it.

The first time she was here it was mostly to see if Ethan was a viable job candidate. Over Mexican food, Ethan had told her about his job at Uncle Billy’s Alligator Farm. Viv had said at some point that she might have a job for him in Nevada. Ethan was very inquisitive about the job, and Viv played coy, saying I can’t talk about it and I can explain later. Then they hooked up. Ethan’s fault for ordering tequila shots.

Nope, still can’t talk about it. Viv smiled and shrugged. But the trip was ... successful. She had told Ethan she had trouble parking outside, and she did. What she was parking was a freshly purchased 18-wheeler. But the nature of the success is classified.

Ethan nodded. "So what exactly can you tell me about this job?"

They talked for an hour, with Viv avoiding all the important issues. What she could talk about was the vague northern Nevada location of TJC Enterprises, the health benefits and 401K, and how Ethan would be expected to live at the job site. He would be also required to drive a vehicle that requires a commercial license, and they’d pay for training if he didn’t have a CDL already. She talked a little about hotels in Japan and camping in Mexico, but not any specific mention of the job itself. Secrecy about the work was absolute, which made hiring tough. She could only tell Ethan that he was well-suited for it. It paid $37,000 per year plus room and board.

Ethan, acting as if this were a normal job interview, pulled out an updated résumé from a leather portfolio: the only other thing in it was a brochure from the alligator farm. He had been at Uncle Billy’s for three years, and was recently named Chief Assistant of Reptile Operations. Ethan had worked out a co-existence strategy in case of hurricane damage, for how to store multiple animals in the same paddock. He had no way of knowing how amazing this was for Viv to hear.

It’s perfect, she meant to say. She might have said You’re perfect instead. Was her face reddening? She took a gulp of coffee.

The, uh, real benefit for us with the co-existence strategy is maximizing space, Ethan said, mercifully not lingering over it. We’re not adding to the facilities. This allows us to shuffle things around to accommodate any big-draw animals that fall in our lap.

Does that happen? Some guy says ‘Hey, we got a panda’?

There’s no way we’d pull a panda. But sometimes the police department fishes a gator out of someone’s pool, or there’s a python up a tree. Pythons are a huge problem for the Glades. Morons who bought them as pets release them, and now they eat everything in sight.

Viv knew all about these pythons. So non-native species are damaging the ecosystem. And you’re in favor of removing those non-native species.

Absolutely. I’d take all the rabbits out of Australia if I could. Ethan suddenly leaned in. Is that what this job is?

Viv sighed. How much she could reveal was maddeningly small. "What I can tell you is this is definitely not a boring job. And it requires a good deal of independent work. She hauled a three-page contract out of her satchel. Here’s our offer letter, and nondisclosure waivers. You can look at these, or get a lawyer to look at them. But you won’t find any hints about what you’d be doing."

Ethan flipped through the contract. OK

It comes down to this: you can’t know what the job is until you sign. It sucks, but that’s the core of it.

Ethan stared at the paperwork. I’m not saying this is the case ... but it almost feels like I’m being recruited by poachers or something, to hunt down endangered species.

Ethan was as smart as Viv hoped: poaching was the logical conclusion for why someone would hire a large-animal wrangler on the sly. She had practiced an answer for this. That’s not us. Nothing we’re doing here is illegal. Some of it is in an area where the law isn’t particularly clear. But what we do is very important, and beneficial to the environment. She put on a serious face. It. Is. Not. Poaching.

Ethan gave a serious look at page two of the document. A lot here about intellectual property.

This is the standard intellectual property form for the biotech industry.

Biotech? Drugs?

Viv saw what he was thinking. TJC is not doing drug deals or anything like that. This is part of what I meant when I said this is important work. 

Ethan’s face grew serious. Does TJC do animal testing?

Not directly.

Can I ask why this position’s open?

Viv paused. There was a death. 

Oh. I’m sorry. Ethan waited a few respectful seconds, then added, The job didn’t kill him, right?

Viv couldn’t say anything but hopefully her pauses could do the talking for her. "There is some danger, she finally said. I’m not going to disguise that. As you might be able to guess, there are animals involved, most of which are wild. But we have safety precautions, a lot of them. I’m sure you’ll be able to add some more, since after all, you’ve worked with alligators and you still have all your fingers."

Ethan put down the coffee and casually waved his ten fingers. So it’s a low-paying job, you can’t tell me anything about it, I’ve got to move to Nevada and become a truck driver, and the last guy died doing it. 

"The second you sign that paperwork I can tell you—hell, I can go around the back and show you—the most amazing thing in the world."

But then I can’t tell anyone else. Right? Viv nodded. Viv, I’m really curious about this ...

...but...?

...but I can’t. It’s a big question mark. I’ve got a job I like here, friends here, my whole life. If I was unhappy with my life, then maybe. But without knowing ... I just can’t do it. Sorry. Was this what being turned down for a date felt like? Viv had never asked a boy out, so she didn’t know, but this was such a halfhearted no that she couldn’t let it go. Ethan wanted to say yes. He would say yes.

OK, follow me, Viv said. She put the contract back in her satchel, picked up her cup of coffee, and almost rappelled down from the stool to the floor. 

They left the air conditioning and walked to the strip mall’s back loading bay. This area was full of trash containers, a wet garbage smell, and an eighteen-wheeler parked illegally along the curb. The mall was by the edge of the Everglades, so just beyond the paved lot, separated by a water-filled ditch, was six-foot high sawgrass as far as the eye could see.

Viv walked to the eighteen-wheeler’s red container and patted it. In here, she said carefully, is what your job will be.

You drove that here? Viv could tell Ethan was trying to suppress the desire to ask her how someone so small could drive something so big. To his credit, he did. What’s in there? he asked instead?

Sign the contract and I can tell you. I can promise you’ll be happy when you do.

Honestly, I’m a little afraid of this. The mystery is neat and all, but there seems to be something ... I don’t want to say sketchy — hell, it’s sketchy, OK? I’m trying to imagine what you’d need an alligator vet to do that you couldn’t tell him about, and all I’m coming up with is creating some weird death trap for a super-villain lair.

We’re not making death traps.

No underground lair?

... no, no lair. That might not be the total truth.

Look, I’m sorry, I really like you, I was looking forward to getting to work with you, like in college, but I can’t do this.

No one was around. OK, Viv said, with determination, you tell no one about this. She climbed onto the back of the trailer, which wasn’t that difficult if you treated it like a ladder. She pulled her key ring from her satchel, and hunted for the keys to the two enormous padlocks on the set of steel doors. 

I get to see what’s inside?

Here’s the deal, she said, as she unlocked the first padlock. I open the door, you see what’s inside, and then you sign the contract. 

You’re that sure?

Look me in the eyes, she said, hanging her head down. It was odd to look down on someone a foot taller than her. "I’m that sure." She handed him the second padlock and cracked open the right-side door.

Ethan stared at the crack eagerly, as if fairy dust was going to shoot out. But no fairy dust—just the odor of large animals. Viv opened the right door enough to get herself in. It was dark and humid inside the trailer, with just a few translucent panels on the top of the roof. Nothing stirred.

Ethan pulled the metal rods on the left door and began to open it. Viv put a warning hand out: she didn’t want both doors open. It could get out. Ethan hopped on board with the ease tall people had climbing anything.

The ajar right door threw a layer of light on the interior of the container. A huge bulge was visible in the back, taking up a third of the unit. A few bales of hay sat along the left wall, along with an aluminum water tub. The pungent reek of urine was eye-watering.

Ethan was unfazed by the smell: big animals all smell the same. The lump shifted a little bit, its rough flank looking like a rippling pond in the dim light. A very thick tail was visible; the head was on the far side. Is this an elephant?

Nope.

Rhino?

Nope.

Hippo.

No.

The animal in question then stood up. Its huge tail scraped along the steel wall, actually causing a dent. Its head just missed hitting the other wall, which was impressive, because the head was the size of a car. If cars had horns.

Viv took a few steps back, pulling Ethan along behind her. This might have been a mistake. Buddy Boy, she saw, was fully awake.

The animal was now facing them, and could see daylight behind two comparatively tiny people. It charged at the light. 

Viv went to push Ethan out of the way, but found herself being pulled by Ethan instead. He yanked her out of the door: these were his gator reflexes in action. They landed on the pavement awkwardly but without injury, then scrambled out of the descent path of anything coming out. Viv just managed to see that Ethan hadn’t pushed the steel rods back down on the left door.

The steel panels slammed open like saloon doors, and a five-ton reptile burst through. The flapping doors hit the animal’s flank two or three times as its long body exited the trailer, but it didn’t flinch. It cracked the asphalt where it landed, four thick-clawed feet absorbing the weight of the drop. The reptile was shaped like a rhinoceros, complete with a distinctive horn on its nose, but with a large bony crest radiating from the back of its head like a plate. Two even bigger horns jutted above its eyes. It had a sharply downturned beak, with straw plastered around it. The tail was a thick tentacle that held a surprising amount of its body weight. It was the exact shade of green as Viv’s jacket. 

The reptile stood in its impact crater, snorting, its huge nostrils dirty with straw and mucus. The tail flicked, thumping the side of the trailer. It looked at the strip mall momentarily, then ran the opposite direction, into the swamp. Its legs had a knock-kneed gallop to keep them clear of its huge bony head. In three seconds it was gone, swallowed by the tall reeds.

Viv instinctively looked around to make sure no one saw that. They were alone, and she didn’t see any security cameras. Probably safe. Ethan, are you OK?

Ethan was standing by the open door, his face was split between terror and joy. HOLY— he started, then paced around a bit. He couldn’t find an appropriate word to complete the thought, so he repeated HOLY –

She heard the first door in the complex opening. People were investigating the noise. She quickly shut both trailer doors. Time to play dumb until the nosy people disappeared.

Ethan, I’m sorry, I need to catch that guy again. We can talk later—

Give me the pen.

2

Ethan led the way through the ankle-deep muddy water. His rolled-up pant legs unrolled after 30 seconds, so he stopped caring and let them get wet to mid-thigh. Viv refused to roll her jeans up an inch; this would not be a leech day for her. 

A healthy amount of foliage, mostly reeds, was tall enough to block the view from the strip mall. Viv and Ethan were quickly out of range of all people, aside from a condo complex a half-mile away. It was the middle of the afternoon, so hopefully no retiree was watching from their balcony.

Ethan had a noose pole in his hand, which he had grabbed from his car. The pole was five feet long with a metal loop on the end, and was handy for getting alligators at arm’s length. It would barely fit around one of the horns in play today, much less the neck, but it was better than nothing. Viv brought her own capture tool: a backpack full of hay.

Ethan had been an employee for 45 seconds and was already taking point. This spoke well for Ethan’s fit at this job. Granted, following the trail of a huge dinosaur wasn’t hard— just follow the meteor-crater footprints.

So... he said.

Yes?

He looked around to make sure they were alone. DINOSAURS!? he shrieked.

Yep. She smiled.

What? How? I ... I ... I have a million questions. Clumps of disrupted gelled hair hung away from his face like fern leaves.

I can actually answer them now.

OK, um, first of all, I feel silly saying these two words, but a triceratops just jumped out of a truck, so here goes. Time machine?

No. We don’t have a time machine. Time travel’s probably impossible.

Probably?

You know, all the time travel issues. Going back in time and killing your grandfather, meeting yourself, that stuff. She stepped in a deep patch of water down to her knee, then worked her foot free and stepped around it. "I mean maybe going back in time is possible, but we don’t know how to do it."

So how’d this guy get here? Ethan stopped mid-step, thinking. "Have they always been here? Are they hiding in the Amazon?"

No. This guy we’re following arrived eighteen months ago. From a hiccup. Well, I call it a hiccup.

Other people call it something else?

Relativistic G-orbit electron fluctuations of unhexhexium.

Well that clears things up.

Viv halted at a sound, up ahead, of a tank rolling through a hedge maze. Large herbivores were not stealthy.

Ethan listened to the chewing. This is a triceratops, right? There were three horns?

"Yep. This is a pretty easy species to spot. Technically Triceratops is a genus, so there might be six or seven different species. Or they’re just ordinary interspecies differences, like dog breeds. Hey, that could be part of your research—seeing if they’re all one species."

The two crept around a cluster of reeds, and there the triceratops was, contentedly munching on the local flora. He had the same mud spatters on his sides that an off-road truck would have. He tilted his bulky head so the straight sawgrass stalks slotted into his beak of a mouth, then took a huge bite, pulling the grass out by the roots. Grass stuck out of his mouth at both ends like a mustache, and they were pulled in as he chewed. His two top horns rippled a patch of tall grass in front of him. He showed every sign of eating the entire Everglades if left alone long enough. 

Ethan watched him, fascinated. He’s so real...

Yep.

And so big...

They get twice as big as him. He’s five tons now, so imagine ten.

His skin, it’s like a reptile. I’ve always wondered what dinosaur skin would look like, and when I see this, I think of course this is what it’s like. It’s green, since he’s a reptile, but not super green. A natural shade. Maybe it gave him a little camouflage.

He’s Cretaceous, the last era of dinosaurs. A lot of his contemporaries have feathers.

The way he moves. It’s so fluid for something so big. He’s bulky, but ... graceful.

The horns might actually be for courtship rituals. Like deer’s antlers.

And the way he chews! We knew triceratops were herbivores because of their big flat teeth, but to see it in action— just this guy sucking in a couple pounds of reeds like it was spaghetti, munching it into paste, swallowing it, and then coming back for more–

Viv nodded. He’s pretty neat.

He is a he, right? Not a girl? Any way you can tell, aside from poking around the cloaca? Wait, does he even have a cloaca?

They’ve all got cloacas. I’m just calling him ‘he.’ If he lays an egg, then he’s a girl.

Ethan held up his aluminum noose pole. This is not going to help me, I think.

Yeah. Try this, she said, holding up a fistful of the hay from her backpack.

He’s got plenty to eat.

Yeah, but he likes this stuff. She threw the fistful at the stagnant water in front of the triceratops. The hay was a thin light-green blade. Within a minute, the reptile had stopped grazing on the reeds, noticed the hay, and waded over to it. He ate it in one eager bite.

What sort of hay is that?

A prehistoric grass. She threw a second handful, closer to them. The triceratops waded another few steps to get at it.

He’s following you, Ethan said.

Viv took off the backpack and passed it to Ethan. He’s following YOU now. I’ll take the noose pole.

Ethan strapped the backpack to his chest like a baby carrier. It looked dorky but gave him easier access to the hay. He backed up a few steps, took out a handful, and dropped it. The triceratops ate it without thinking.

All right, he’s moving. Ethan worked his way backwards, dropping hay. He contentedly trudged the entire distance back to the parking lot.

Viv waded back to the truck before Ethan and his charge, to open both sides of the trailer door. She ensured no one was around to watch them recapture a dinosaur.

OK, now! Viv stage-whispered. Ethan hastily laid a trail of hay. The triceratops followed the food out of the swamp and into the parking lot. He was slow, and his gentle steps didn’t dent the pavement.

Just put the last bit in the trailer?

Yeah.

How’s he getting up there? Ethan asked, tossing the last handful of light green hay on the lip of the trailer.

As if in reply, the triceratops boosted himself onto his back legs like the world’s biggest prairie dog. He dropped his front legs into the trailer with a seismic thump. The last bit of hay disappeared in a bite. 

Viv ran up with the noose pole and, wary of his tail, gave him a sharp slap on the rump with it. With his thick skin he barely felt it, but the whack had the desired effect. He hopped his bulk up into the trailer, jumping the four feet without any apparent effort. He left two small impact craters in the asphalt from where he shoved off, next to the big one from when he had jumped out. The creature disappeared into the trailer, his huge tail slowly diminishing from sight.

Viv climbed up the trailer, shut the left door, dropped the rods as quickly as she could, closed but did not lock the right door. To a creature of limited intelligence like a triceratops, no light meant no door, and thoughts of escape vanished. He was locked in again.

Come on, Viv said. She propped the right door open an inch, and waved him up.

You want to go back in there?

You need to give him a shot.

3

Ethan snuck inside the door as discretely as he could. The triceratops didn’t noticed: he was facing away from the doors, and contentedly introducing himself to a stored bale of hay. Viv scrambled up to join him in the trailer. She felt safe in the trailer from experience, but she understood Ethan’s reluctance.

We need to wait for him to sleep so we can administer the sedative.

Can we wait outside?

It’ll be fine. I promise. They stood in the trailer, watching the triceratops contentedly eat. See the darker leaves in the bale?

Yeah.

That’s knockout weed.

What’s that?

Another local plant. Highly sedative. Any animal who eats it goes to sleep. She waited until the triceratops was chewing, then pulled a dark leaf from a bale close to the door. The darker leaf was broad, with a serrated pattern.

Have you thought about bolting the water tub to the side? Looks like a lot of this sloshed out. Ethan’s curiosity was winning out over his understandable fear of a rampaging dinosaur.

The trailers we usually use have them bolted. I just bought this stuff today. 

Today?

Yeah. I flew over here this morning, paid cash for the semi, the trailer, and a full tank of diesel. $23,000. The triceratops punctuated this figure by sitting down. The trailer echoed like it was hit with sledge hammers. 

Ow, Ethan said, rubbing his ears.

The semi’s a sleeper, which is useful since I don’t have to get a motel room on the way back.

All the way to Nevada? How long a drive is that?

Three days, if I don’t sleep much. I try to do it as fast as possible, to get Buddy Boy out of here quickly.

The triceratops could eat while sitting, although he did so with less enthusiasm. His tail stopped moving.

Where did this guy come from?

The Cretaceous. It’s an 80-million-year window, so that’s not really a precise guess.

No, I mean where in Florida?

The Everglades, west of here.

How’d you hear about him?

We look for certain clues, check certain websites and police logs for suspicious activity.

Like footprints?

In this case it was a woman at the Sunset View condos who was having whole saplings disappear from her back yard. She lives right up against the swamp. Only big herbivores eat an entire tree. I was actually investigating this a couple months ago when we first talked about the job. 

I still have a headache from that night.

I couldn’t find him the first time, but I came back today, and there he was—right in sight of the road. So I bought the truck, got him in, and then met up with you.

Wait, he was visible from the road? Anyone could have seen him? For months?

If they were looking, yeah.

And he just popped in here from the Cretaceous era?

Some unhexhexium had an electron transfer—OK, English. There’s a rock, very rare, very heavy, and it gets struck by lightning sometimes. When that happens, a sphere of energy is created around it and brings all of that into the future. In this case, the sphere contained a triceratops. And possibly some smaller animals that got eaten by pythons. The triceratops had lived in the swamp for at least eighteen months, since that’s how long Condo Lady complaining about her trees disappearing.

The triceratops began snoring. 

How’d he live for eighteen months without anyone noticing?

Animals know how to hide.

"A triceratops? In a back yard?"

I was the only one looking for him. She opened a kit in her satchel and removed a syringe the size of a turkey baster. Those leaves won’t work for long. You’ve given reptiles shots before?

Yeah, vaccinations. This is a sedative? Diazepam or ketamine?

Our own formula. Much more effective on our guest here.

This is part of the intellectual property, I guess.

It is. It’s currently in phase I trials for pain management. For humans.

Wow. And I just inject this into him?

Yeah. Try for the inside of the joints. That’s where the softest skin will be.

If he flinches, I’m— he looked at the trailer wall, where the Ethan stain would be.

If you see any movement, back off.

Ethan removed the plastic safety cap off the huge syringe, and squeezed out a tiny bit of fluid to eliminate the air bubble. Rubbing alcohol and cotton balls?

Viv pulled a disposable alcohol wipe from her satchel. Here you go. Even big animals can get infections, right?

Ethan removed the wipe and took one step toward the motionless dinosaur. Then paused.

I’ve done this for years, Viv said, So has most everyone else in the company. No one’s been hurt doing this.

The guy who I’m replacing, Ethan said. "He didn’t die from...from doing this?"

No, Viv said. Not from this. Peter never had a problem giving animal shots.

But he died from ... a dinosaur.

Yes, Viv said, with gravity in her voice. But not a triceratops. They’re generally pussycats.

Ethan tiptoed over to the huge sleeping reptile, whispering, This is so weird, this is soooooo weird... The triceratops’s front left leg was most accessible, although his huge frill was almost completely covering it. Ethan had to reach around to get to the leg joint.

You could probably climb on top of him to do this, Viv said. He’s got thick skin.

You can try it that way. I’ll do it this way. Ethan squatted by the edge of the frill, still not touching the dinosaur. 

Viv knew he wasn’t in much danger from this. She would’ve injected the animal herself if Ethan wasn’t here, and she wouldn’t have worried about her own safety a bit. This task was about the safest way possible for Ethan to build close-up experience with dinosaurs. 

Ethan disappeared behind the frill for ten seconds. He reappeared triumphantly with a deployed syringe. Done! he whispered, tiptoeing back to the trailer door.

Great. That’ll knock him out for eight hours.

I touched him, Ethan said. He feels so real. I don’t know why I was expecting rubber.

Clock’s ticking now. I should leave.

Viv stepped down out of the trailer. Ethan took one last look at the sleeping giant, then followed suit. Viv eased shut the door, then quietly slid on the two huge padlocks. 

Ethan took her hand. Thank you, he said. This is the best day of my life. And he kissed her on the cheek.

Viv had an urge to throw her arms around him and upgrade that kiss a few levels. But she had to go. I’m very glad I could make your day brighter. And I hope you enjoy your upcoming trucking academy.

Wait, I want to come.

No, you can’t. You have to give your two weeks’ notice—

—no I don’t—

—and we need to get your paperwork going. It’ll be better if you show up in a few weeks. Trust me. She really wished this wasn’t a bogus excuse. Her dad would