Ch 39 - The Musket

The day dawned terribly cold, but he did not feel

the same pain that the newcomers did. Unlike them, his

bones knew no other temperature and his eyes knew no

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other reality than this. With Bergeron's help, he piled up

loads of boxes until he could reach the zinc roof of the

warehouse, which he had extreme difficulty cutting with

his blade, even though it was sharper than my pocket

knife could ever have been. Finally, he opened a cut in

the three-layered roof, exposing the thick layers of zinc

and asphalt blanket that protected and insulated the

building. He then dug through the material with his knife

until a space large enough for him to pass through was

opened. One last effort and a semi-circle would be

formed over his head. Far below, watching the scene, I

feared for the safety of the indigenous leader balancing

dangerously on top of the pile of explosives and,

consequently, for our own safety. Before my fears could

be realized, however, the improvised cut was ready and

Jimmy Bruneau was removing the piece from the roof

like a lid, already designed for that purpose.

— Remember, Chief, — Bergeron whispered to

him, — Make sure the animals are not around or the

whole mission could be compromised.

— Nice to see how much you value my life, kid.

Just hand me a load of dynamite, will you?

Climbing up the dangerous pile of TNT, the

Canadian stretched to pass through the cut in the roof a

large load of about 18 to 20 sticks.

— Kevin, the lighter, please, — he asked.

— Oh, right, I had forgotten, — I said, hurrying

to find the object that was my part in the plan. I

immediately threw it, and Bergeron caught it deftly,

without even losing his balance, passing the object

through the opening immediately afterward.

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— Very well, that's all I need, — Bruneau

concluded, taking one last look at his equipment. —

Now be quiet; try not to draw attention to the warehouse.

— Saying this, he turned away, trying to remember in

which direction the rafters supporting the roof were

going. Not that the layers of reinforced zinc would not

support his weight, or at least he hoped they would, but

he must at all costs avoid knocking over the dangerous

load he was carrying, and especially avoid producing

sparks at all costs. Carefully, he walked to the edge of

the warehouse, listening, focusing his attention on what

was happening just below. Nothing. The predators had

left the mine, as he had thought they would, and were

somewhere else in the area, probably hunting.

The rope that O'Riley had tied the day before

would also come in handy now, and in fact, it had

already been attached there for a reason. Coming from

several feet up, the thick rope was firmly anchored to the

mountain, and it actually needed to be, now that Bruneau

would be using it to descend the slope of Datsá. After

one last look to make sure he was alone, he grabbed onto

the rope and propped his feet on the wall of rock and ice.

Tied around his waist, the sticks of dynamite were held

in place by a cord, and the lighter was hidden in the deep

pocket of his jacket, where it would have no contact with

the explosives. As quickly as he could, he then slid to the

ground, grateful for the soft snow that had silenced the

sound of his fall. And now, with his equipment in hand,

he would set off for the same spot the pack was, hoping

that he would find them — before he was found.

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⬫⬫⬫

— And then?

— And then he throws the dynamite and runs.

— And then what?

— There is nothing afterward, Kevin. The threat

is annihilated with the explosion.

Back in the warehouse, Bergeron was busy

answering my questions about his plan, while Lucy

entertained herself by watching.

— And how will we know that the threat has

been neutralized?

— We will know when he returns in one piece.

Kevin, don't you usually keep quiet?

— Yes, that's true. But only when Lucy is in

charge; there's not much to question in her planning.

— Oh, really? — he asked, turning to Lucy's

smiling face. — Any masterly advice, young lady?

— As a matter of fact, yes. It seems to me that

you opted for early in the morning because you imagine

that the predators have gone hunting and have moved

away from here. But you know, I remember hearing

about crocodiles observing the routine of residents in a

village, learning the patterns they followed, especially

the time they used to go to the river to bathe or to wash

their clothes.

— Well, it seems a bit fanciful to me that an

animal has such intelligence, but you are right, what

does this have to do with the case?

— Didn't you say that the Ceratosaurus were

already attacking villages and isolated groups even

before you came here? So tell me, what time do people

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in this region usually leave their huts to go to work or

hunt?

— In the...early morning...Oh, God...

⬫⬫⬫

Bruneau remained lowered, stalking, as he would

do to any other predator. This one was not so different

from the usual wolf or bear he used to hunt; no, it was

just another animal, whose habits were to be learned and

respected, but whose presence was to be kept at bay.

Climbing up the slope to return to the woods, he kept his

eyes vigilant, watching the tree line. He could not allow

himself to be surprised, as the caribou had been, or as

they themselves had been surprised as a group, once the

female had located them and run toward them. No, not

again; it would be a disgrace to his skill as a hunter.

More than that, he had been tasked with an important

mission that he had readily accepted and now had to

return alive to fulfill.

Just then, a roar erupted in the woods around

him. It seemed to come from the east, but also from the

west, or from yet another direction. Concentrating now,

he scrutinized the rows of fir trees that surrounded him;

his right hand ready to pull the explosive load from his

body, while his left one was already touching the lighter,

ready to light it, but the attack was slow in coming. The

roars continued to echo several meters away, loud,

terrifying, like the roar of a cougar, which aims to leave

its prey unresponsive. Then they sounded from the north

and from the south; they were circling around Bruneau,

trying to stun him, to take him by surprise. Hidden under

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his jacket, Bruneau was also carrying a war club, which

he had in mind to use now, but he soon abandoned the

idea. The club was very effective in combat against one

man, but not against a beast — especially not against

more than one.

The only refuge high enough was one of the

surrounding logs, but the predators were getting closer.

Bruneau could hear the roars getting louder as he

decided what to do. Then they stabilized at a close

distance.

— They're waiting for me to react, — thought the

Chief.

Those beings were some of the most curious he

had ever seen; waiting for their victim to provoke the

attack instead of starting it themselves. But how was it

possible that the opposite happened with the caribou

herd? The female had taken the lead in attacking and the

animals just watched paralyzed as the predators arrived.

But now, the scene unfolding in the woods was different

— the animals seemed cautious, even. Jimmy Bruneau

knew that he would be pursued if he took another step,

but that he would also eventually be attacked if he just

stood there. Taking a deep breath, he aimed at one of the

logs ahead and started to run.

Behind him, the Ceratosaurus were already

leaving the tree line, one on each side, and chasing him

fiercely, their huge mouths already open, displaying their

blade-like fangs. Those predators were agile, far nimbler

than a bear could ever be, and they were closing in now.

Bruneau's lungs were burning; at this age, he was not

running as much as before, and nothing had prepared

him for this. This — all the word encompassed was the

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feeling Aputik had had, just seconds before his brutal

death. He had heard enough from Kevin O'Riley's mouth

to know what would happen next. The beasts' teeth

would strike his back, perhaps even his cervical spine,

which would paralyze him or even kill him instantly. In

any case, he would not survive.

But why not?

Scientific data is not always correct, and the

distance to the trunk was much shorter than the one

Aputik had to cross. Maybe he wouldn't survive, true —

but he would try.

There was little left now; so little that it would be

a dishonor if he didn't make it. One more jump, a bit

faster, and one last effort. In one last step, he threw his

body into the air, aiming for the white trunk of a birch

tree. In the next instant, he would only feel the birch

bark on his hands or a painful attack from behind. Before

the second fact occurred, he climbed the trunk, as

quickly as his experience allowed him, and the animal's

jaws closed around the trunk, narrowly missing.

Without looking to see how high he was,

Bruneau continued climbing, hearing right at his feet

what sounded like pairs of shears closing in at high

speed, cutting the air in their path. At eight meters high,

he dared to look, after all. The predators looked him in

the eye, staring at him with their yellowish eyes like

those of a feline. The image was terrifying and would

remain in his memory for years. That is, of course, if he

had a memory until the end of the day.

Realizing that they would not reach him, the two

Ceratosaurus moved away, just far enough to observe

Bruneau without having to raise their heads.

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— What do you want? — asked the Chief, also

asking himself the reason for such a question. From here,

he could launch the dynamite, but he would surely miss,

and with the rest of his team trapped in the station and

two more predators loose in the mountains, wasting a

chance was not fitting today. So, breaking off one of the

branches within his reach, he grabbed a large piece of

wood and threw it at one of the animals, which deflected

it with ease.

— So, you're good, huh? Let's see how you

handle this one. — Bringing his hand inside his jacket,

he wielded the war club and closed his right eye to aim

better, throwing the weapon with precision and force.

The object hit the dinosaur just before the horn, being

fast enough to take it by surprise. Furious, the animal

roared, but did not try to jump again. Still roaring, the

two backed away, returning to the path from which they

had chased Bruneau, then split up and each walked to the

side of the woods from which they had originally come.

Carefully, Jimmy descended a few feet, keeping

his gaze fixed on the trees ahead. At four meters up, he

would still be safe and could better see the woods

opening up before him. Squeezing his eyes, he observed

that the morning light cast long shadows on the forest

floor, painting it with stripes. Hidden in one of those

streaks, a long black shadow camouflaged itself, staring

directly at him.

⬫⬫⬫

— Bruneau is taking too long, — Andri said a

third time. Walking from one side of the warehouse to

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the other, he kept theorizing, thinking of countless

possibilities that could be holding him back.

— Maybe the dynamite was damp, or the lighter

was not working anymore. Or even worse... — he said

more to himself than to us, who sat on wooden crates

watching his hurried steps.

— God, what do we do now?

— How about calming down, Mr. Bergeron? —

Lucy advised him.

— Calming down? My mentor is out there,

probably already dead, and you want me to calm down?

Do you even know what it's like to care about someone's

life?

Lucy seemed slightly offended by the question

and was now biting her lip to keep quiet.

— Actually, she does, — I said, already angry. —

Our father was also lost in the wilderness, and when we

found him again...he was dying, and finally passed away

in our arms that very day. Ask Dr. Keene; he was there

too. So yes, we do understand what you are going

through.

— Well, I... forgive me; I didn't know that fact.

— Don't worry, — Lucy answered dryly. —

There is always more to know. You, for example, should

know that the man who approached you was actually a

murderer.

— Are you referring to Nathan Allard?

— Precisely. We have investigated Allard before

and found out enough to put him behind bars. He used a

private vehicle to destroy our father's laboratory, drugged

two men so that they could not thwart his plan, planned

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the murder of a third, and, based on your account,

planned to kill you as well.

— Me? Why?

Lucy's conclusion sounded climactic and

resolute, but it also sounded new to me. Allard had

planned a double murder? And he was thinking about

murdering Bergeron? How had I missed all this?

— Nathan Allard was acting to protect nature, —

Lucy continued to explain. — And you represented a

terrible risk since you were about to kill a wild animal.

So I advise you to be extremely careful.

— But if you have evidence for all this, why

don't you take it to the authorities to have him arrested?

— Because he's already been punished, Mister

Bergeron — by the lethal bite of a Steppesaurus.

⬫⬫⬫

The hours pass slowly when there is not much to

do. Not only as in activities or hobbies, but also when

there isn't much to do to change the situation you find

yourself in. Clinging to his trunk, Jimmy Bruneau felt

his arms already going numb from the continuous effort

of holding on to the birch tree. His spine was bending

from the intense cold of the region, which was beating

down on his thin body, trying to drag him away from his

stronghold. In the distance, the animals seemed oblivious

to the weather, lying in the snow and warming

themselves under a vast blanket of black feathers. There

was no way out. The plan was to take these animals by

surprise and trap them with the bomb. Ironically,

Bruneau had been taken by surprise — and he was now

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trapped. Running back through the passage that had

brought him here would only lead him into the

Ceratosaurus' mouths, and dashing into the dense woods

in the opposite direction would leave him even more

vulnerable. Of course, there was the option of dying

doing something good, like using the bomb he had in

hand to blow up his attackers and rid everyone involved

of the Beast of Partridge Creek, but there was something

that bothered him about that and it wasn't the fact that he

would die. Honor was something of utmost importance

among those of his people and he would certainly gain a

lot of it if he died as a hero, but it was not an end he was

happy with. No, he would not be like past generations

who would take any opportunity to throw themselves on

a beast, just to be remembered. He was here to protect

his tribe and would live to see the children of the Dene

people smiling and safe, knowing that he had saved

them. Now, though, his situation would not change

without outside help.

Back at the station, Bergeron was about to lose

his temper. His litany had already turned to tension and

he sat on one of the crates, drumming his fingers on

another one within his reach. His rapid breathing was the

result of hours of stress in a row, imagining everything

that could have occurred after what Lucy Lane had told

him. Dead? How is that possible? The idea that Jimmy

Bruneau could have succumbed was not fitting. But the

rational mind also reminded him that heroes are

invincible only in our imagination. Bruneau was mortal

and would die anyway one day, but this way seemed

so...cruel. He didn't even know who was to be called

cruel in that case. Life? The animals? No, life is an entity

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that we usually personify, but which doesn't really have

feelings or conscience. The Ceratosaurus were just doing

what they were created to do. We don't call a dog that

hunts with its master for the support of his family cruel;

we call it useful. These animals were not doing anything

different, but of course, we understand more easily that a

pet does it because we are closer to it. Maybe...pets

really don't need any more protection than they already

have, after all. What was he talking about? Keene's

speeches were already affecting him!

Rising to his feet in a rush, he headed for the

warehouse doors. We, who had been silent until then,

followed his steps with our eyes, and then with our own.

Andri walked resolutely towards Keene, who remained

in the same place where he had spent the day in

isolation.

— Mr. Bergeron, what are you going to do? — I

asked worriedly. — Mister Bergeron! — But Lucy

pulled me tightly, ordering me with her eyes not to

interfere with what was about to happen. Jacob had a

lowered frown and disheveled hair from stirring it all

that day and, quite possibly, the night before. The

Canadian walked to his front, keeping his breathing fast

and his eyes fulminating Keene. Realizing that

something was obscuring the light that had previously

reached his eyes, Jacob asked:

— What do you want?

— Open your eyes, Keene.

— I don't need to open them to know it's you,

Bergeron. I could smell you even if you were covered by

two meters of snow.

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— Open your damn eyes before I open them

myself!

Obediently, the Briton raised his eyes and slowly

opened his eyelids, staring at the other with contempt.

— Bruneau has not returned from his mission, —

said Andri.

— And?

— And...I think it was one of your creatures that

prevented him from returning.

— Are you blaming me for nature's superiority

over humans? Your stupidity is reaching higher and

higher levels.

— Listen here, wretch, I'm leaving right now to

get him if he's alive, or to report back to the tribe in case

the worst has happened.

— Well, I wish you the best, — Jacob hissed. —

Take care of yourself out there, Andri. Or nature will

take care of you.

— No, don't worry, I'm not going alone.

I admit that I feared what would come next, that

Bergeron would summon Lucy or me to accompany him,

but I couldn't have been more wrong. Grabbing Jacob

Keene by the collar and forcing him to stand up, he said:

— You are coming with me.

— What? Put me down, you uncivilized savage;

barbarian! — But Bergeron was already dragging him

toward us.

— Excuse me, children, — he said as he passed

by us, who were blocking the passage to the crate

corridor. Struggling in the Canadian's hands, Keene

cried out for our help.

584

— Kevin! Lucy! Save me from this brute! He's

going to kill me!

With her arms crossed, on my left, Lucy had a

wry smile on her face and did not heed the biomedical

doctor's desperate pleas. I, for my part, had no idea of

what to do. My specialty was dealing with animals and

studying their behavior, but humans...were Lucy's area,

and if she didn't act, I wouldn't know what to do.

Marching up to the tower of crates that Bruneau

had built, Andri Bergeron stalled right in front of it,

while Keene was still struggling to free himself from his

strong arms. Holding him in the air, in front of his face,

he threatened:

— Now climb those boxes and up to the roof, or I

will throw you up the hole.

— And why should I be afraid of that, you fool?

— Because, Doctor, it seems to me that your leg

couldn't take an impact on the roof, could it?

Anger still disfigured Keene's face, but he finally

gave in. Pulling Bergeron's hands away from his collar,

he wiped his garments, as if to get rid of any remnants of

the other, and looked down at him.

— If I must suffer, — he announced with a

dramatic tone, — I shall suffer with honor, — and began

to climb one crate at a time, unlike Bergeron, who

jumped two crates at once, soon catching up with Jacob's

trembling step. The pile of crates was already swaying,

threatening to collapse under the weight of the two men,

and Keene noticed this.

— For God's sake, stop jumping, you

irresponsible bastard, or we'll die right here! — he

shouted.

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— Shut up and climb it at once! The sun is about

to set, — Andri ordered. With a few more cautious steps,

Keene was already on the last layer of boxes, right under

the exit, where he would have to lean on the edges of the

cut zinc and pull his body weight up. With his heart

beating hard, he reached out his arms to the hole and

grabbed the outside of the cut. His fingers felt the

freezing wind blowing outside, making it even harder for

him to climb up. Keene's arms seemed so frail, so weak

for the task he was forced to do.

— Shouldn't we do something? — I whispered to

Lucy.

— Not if you want my plan to succeed, — she

answered without lowering her voice.

Before he could pull his trunk through the hole,

Keene looked back down at the warehouse floor, about

ten feet high, and freaked out.

— I can't, this is too much for me!

— Should I really give you a hand, Doctor? —

sneered Bergeron.

Climbing up the last flight of crates, Andri

reached Keene's level and held him by the flanks,

gripping the coat he was wearing tightly. In the next

instant, Keene took off down the hole, being launched by

the Canadian's enormous strength, which was further

amplified by anger. With a terrified scream, the Briton

flew for a few seconds before falling back onto the triple

zinc that protected the structure. Thanks to the intricate

system of rafters that reinforced the roof, his fall was

painful, but his weight was distributed in such a way that

he did not go through the thick roof of the building.

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Rubbing his hands as if to rid himself of dust,

Bergeron now had a satisfied smile, turning in our

direction immediately afterward.

— Kevin, — he called, — please give me a load

of dynamite and your pocket knife. Without the lighter, I

will need your flint to light a spark.

Immediately, I picked up a load of ten sticks and

handed them to the arms reaching out to pick them up,

followed by the pocket knife with accessories.

— Very well, — he said, putting the tool in his

inside jacket pocket and throwing the load of explosives

through the opening. — You two be careful; I'll be back

soon.

— Mr. Bergeron?

— Yes, Lucy?

— Don't trust anyone on the way, please.

— Don't worry, child. My mother always advised

me the same, — he said, before pulling his own body

through the cut in the roof. With a single monumental

effort, he grabbed the edges of the cut and carried his

torso through the opening, disappearing soon after.

— What did you mean by that? — I asked.

— Only ... I wish he would come back. I can't

stand to see so much death everywhere we go.

Even though I didn't understand exactly what

dangers she was referring to, other than the Ceratosaurus

themselves, I couldn't help but agree. Our record was

indeed gruesome and had not improved with our coming

to the Yukon. But now we would have to wait, just as we

had done so far, and hope that, on the outside, Andri and

Jacob would be able to end this nightmare.

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⬫⬫⬫

The wind, which had previously cut his fingers,

now cut his face. Keene felt his exposed skin hurt like a

burn, with each blow of wind that hit him. What a

humiliation he was going through now! A scientist being

escorted by a simple power plant employee! The image

was a sacrilege to him. And now he would have to walk,

or rather - sink, in the loose snow, searching for the

corpse of an old leader.

Behind him, Bergeron was pushing him, keeping

watchful eyes on him, in case of any funny business.

— This way, Doctor, — he brought him back

with a tug. — You don't want to step out of line and go

through the roof. Lucy and Kevin don't deserve to see

your carcass thrown to the ground.

Keene felt his hatred for Bergeron increase, but

he was in no condition to do anything; he was helpless,

desperate, and could only move on. Now they were

standing right in front of the rope from which he had

fallen, collapsing in the snow. After the event, he was

limping, and even here on the roof, he bent his leg when

walking. His dread of heights would be repeated this

time as well, and he could feel that if he did not jump of

his own accord, he would be pushed to his death by the

hands of that Canadian.

Concentrating on the bundle of braided filaments

that was the thick rope before him, Keene imagined the

line running under his feet, the rafters that would keep

him alive on the roof, and ran. His feet sounded heavy

on the triple layer of zinc, and the sudden acceleration

increased the impact of the wind against his unprotected

588

face, but the movement would carry him to the rope.

With the momentum of the run, he leaped into the air,

catching the climbing rope. The strong blow caused him

to swing in the air for a few moments, before the force of

inertia wore off and he was static again.

— Bravo, — Andri said with little emotion. —

Now, if you're done with the show, climb down so that I

can do it too.

Jacob gripped the rope tightly, as if his life

depended on it. Risking to open his eyes, he saw the

snowy ground about three meters away from him and

realized that his life was really at stake. As slowly as

possible, he let one hand slip behind the other, closing

his eyes again so as not to see what terrified him. In this

dark world that was his, all he could feel now was the

stiff texture of the rustling fibers in his fingers and the

terrible cold that tormented him. — This is the last time I

visit this damn fridge! — he complained softly, fearing

that Bergeron would cut off his support. The thought

distracted his mind from the process of descending, and

more fibers passed through his clenched fists. — As

soon as this expedition is over, I will return to Amge.

There too, there are wild animals to be preserved...and

they don't live under an eternal winter like this! — The

memory calmed his spirits. Amge — the place where it

all began. In that archipelago, he had seen the first

cryptid of his career, after months of fruitless expeditions

with Lane. There he had also learned to love these

animals more than anything else. More than himself,

more than biomedicine...and certainly more than his

family.

589

At that moment he felt his foot touch the frozen

ground and opened his eyelids, realizing that he had

finally reached the ground. Stepping away from the rope,

he looked up, hoping that the Canadian would follow

suit. Without Keene's dashing run, Bergeron stretched

out his arm, grabbing the rope, and climbed down in one

go, burning his hands along the way.

With a disdainful expression at Andri's feat,

Jacob repeated the other's phrase.

— Bravo.

— Enough. Now come on, let's get out of the pit.

— And where are you taking me hostage? — he

asked, still limping.

— Don't exaggerate; you came to this region on

your own, knowing what lived here.

— Nobody told me that the locals were

kidnappers and irresponsible shepherds.

Holding his pace, Bergeron looked back.

— Listen here. Disrespect Aputik one more time

or any other member of my people and I will abandon

you in the snow, got it? — Again without answering,

Jacob condemned him with his eyes, following behind

Bergeron soon after. Before them both, a huge gap

opened in the ice wall, where the mountain no longer

met the Datsá mine, leading to the vast plain where the

Ceratosaurus pack had slaughtered the caribou brought

by Andri. Placing himself behind Keene, Bergeron

stopped again and simply watched.

— What do you expect me to do? — asked the

Briton.

590

— Take a look at the plain and tell me what you

see. If one of us loses his head, it'd better be the most

hated.

— You mean, regarding quantity or intensity?

— Just take a look, you pedant!

Walking with difficulty to the exit of the ditch,

Jacob looked from one side to the other, paying special

attention to the trees that lined up hundreds of feet away.

— It's all right, — Keene said. — Bring all that

courage up here.

Reaching the point where he stood, Andri

imitated the gesture, making sure that the danger had not

reached them. It's true that Keene didn't act maniacally

or anything, but from what little he knew of the man, it's

quite possible that he would sacrifice himself just to

preserve a few animals.

Following the slope, the terrain was now much

steeper as they climbed the mountain. Almost sloping

forward, they had to balance themselves so as not to slip

and fall face first on the ground.

— Bruneau passed this way, — thought Andri.

There was no footprint or anything to indicate it; the

wind had already covered any possible traces with even

more snow, but the plan was still very much alive in

Bergeron's mind. His master was to climb the mountain,

heading west, until he reached the next opening in the

forest, where the animals apparently had a predilection

for hunting. The strategy had obviously not worked,

which led him to formulate another idea now. The

creatures had a keen sense of smell, that was for sure —

enough to find his campfire in the dark night. All he had

to do now was build a fire, as usual, and wait until the

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dinosaurs showed their faces. Keene would prepare

something, while he watched from afar, watching for any

movement, and then, before the aroma spread through

the dense woods, attracting predators, he would take the

Briton out of the picture. The man was unpalatable to

him, true, but he wouldn't have the courage, or even the

desire, to cause someone's death, even if that someone

was Jacob Keene.

The woods gradually closed in around the

explorers now, adding to the feeling of claustrophobia.

Like a prisoner of war, Keene was continually being

pushed to walk, like a horse being spurred. In the

background of this scene, the moon appeared, shrouded

in clouds and mystery, as if it too were participating in

the scene that would unfold next.

— We'll have to make a camp here, I'm afraid, —

Andri said, modulating his tone so that the other would

not suspect anything. — Let me gather some firewood.

Are you good with a flint?

— Can I rub two metals together until the friction

generates a spark? Yeah, I think we've left the caves

behind, Bergeron.

With a sigh of frustration, the Canadian asked:

— Listen, I brought you here, it's true. But do

you have to be so bitter during the whole trip?

— Yeah, you're right, maybe I should thank you

for exposing me to death in this open field, — Jacob

complained, followed by a groan of pain in his leg.

Shaking his head in resignation, Bergeron left

him behind, setting off to fetch birch bark and hanging

wood — the kind that had remained dry even with all the

humidity around it. As in several icy regions, the Yukon

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also suffers from a shortage of dry wood, as snow is

often melted and refrozen in such places, penetrating the

dead wood that touches the ground. True, he could cut

down a tree and use its dry wood, but there was no need

for that. The preservation of the local flora was almost as

important as the permanence of humans in the area, only

this limit made it impossible for Bergeron to cut down

one of the beautiful trunks that surrounded him.

His trained eyes were magnificent tools on these

dark nights, and using the little light that reflected off the

moon, he spotted a branch that had been snapped but

remained attached to the tree, allowing only one end to

touch the snowy ground, while the other remained

attached to the main trunk. With a strong pull, he

finished the job that nature had started, pulling the

branch out of its position.

— Great, — he thought. — I only need a whole

bundle now. — But the vast forest of firs and birches

provided what was so scarce in other areas. Picking up

another bunch of fir branches — oily, pleasant-smelling

wood — and birch bark, also oily, he returned to camp; a

huge load of wood and strips of resinous bark balancing

on his arms.

On the ground, sitting cross-legged, was the

Professor, scratching the flint with his blade, which

generated a tiny spark that was soon extinguished in the

dampness of the wood he had used. The temptation of

letting him persist until he fell asleep was great, but he

didn't like tormenting tourists without other members of

the tribe laughing too.

— Excuse me, Doctor. Try this one. — The

strong hand that reached out before Jacob passed him a

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thin branch of fir, a tree so well known for its flammable

sap that even Keene knew it. Taking it in his hands, the

biomedical doctor tried to remember what he had seen

O'Riley do before. First, he would prick the branch with

the knife, exposing its inner veins. Then, also with the

blade, he scratched the inside of the branch, allowing the

sap to drain freely. Finally, on this bed, he placed some

thinly sliced bark and dead needles taken from the fir

trees. The next spark found a much more favorable

environment for combustion and immediately set the bed

ablaze. Before the strength of the fire was lost, Bergeron

piled small twigs and splinters, placing the larger ones

last. Soon, a fire of orange flames glowed before them,

causing them both to smile with satisfaction.

— But this is fantastic! — said Keene. — Look

what we've done!

— You see? — asked the other, plopping himself

down beside him. — I'm not just the stupid savage you

think I am. I'm a stupid savage who knows a few tricks,

— he said with an almost childish laugh.

— Maybe. Don't get me wrong; I wish our

interaction had been different, but it's clear to me that

each of us represents a drastically distinct side in this

matter.

— Is that so? You seek to preserve animals and

that's what my people do, too. Whenever possible we

leave an animal alone, respect it, and even include it in

the local folklore, and talk to it. The only reason why I

am here is that these animals have crossed that line.

— Line?

— Yes. We consider that the animals should

respect our territory, as we respect theirs.

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— Well, by God, Bergeron, do you listen to the

nonsense you say? These beings will not submit to the

beliefs your people have invented, no matter how sacred

they are to you. Besides, you mentioned…talking to

animals? Are you out of your mind?

— Well, many in the tribe believe that they have

enough intelligence to understand us.

— I don't understand how these very individuals

have the mentality to understand human speech.

— Watch how you speak, Doctor. I don't attack

any of your beliefs.

— Don't make me laugh, Bergeron. My beliefs,

as you say, are based on scientific theses, theses that are

proposed, proven, and refuted, all by the same scientific

system established hundreds of years ago. We may not

know everything now...but we will one day.

— Yeah, of course. Well, all I know is to keep

alert when the moon rises. Here, take what's left of the

beef jerky in my backpack. It's not much, but it should

be enough for us. — Handing the small handful of meat

to Keene, Andri stood up, leaving the campfire behind.

He had to put the plan into practice now, before the

biomedical doctor began another speech.

The night was pitch-black and Bergeron would

have to rely on his instincts to locate danger in the

distance and save himself and Jacob. Climbing a birch

tree with the precision of a feline, he ascended to the

highest branches, seeking not to see something, but to

hear it. The forest was as black as the bottom of a well,

not even allowing him to distinguish the trunks and

branches from any mobile creature that hid among them.

No noise reached his ears, no matter how hard he

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concentrated; the only sound was limited to the crackling

of wood burning in the nearby campfire. From it also

came the only form of human illumination on this

horrifying night. Turning his eyes to the sky, he noticed

that the moon was even more covered by clouds than

before.

— Great, — thought Andri. — We are effectively

at full moon. — There was not much to do now, other

than wait for the creatures to come to them, attracted by

the aroma of warm fat. Slowly descending the white

birch trunk, he returned to the ground, now smelling a

different scent, not common to the region.

— Black tea?

Walking through the woods, he returned to the

camp, where the fragrance was becoming more pungent.

Pulling the last branches away from his face, Bergeron

found Keene not only roasting pieces of meat on

makeshift skewers, but also heating a metal bottle

directly over the coals.

— What's this, Doctor? Have you decided to

prepare a feast? — he asked, genuinely impressed.

— I need something to warm us up in this

forgotten place, — the other complained, shivering. —

And this bottle of tea has been in my backpack for a long

time. Here, have some, I already drank a good amount

while you were playing ranger.

Receiving the container that still glowed with the

intense heat, Andri grabbed it by the handle, smelling the

liquid first. Even the aroma was bitter and foreign, which

sounded like a perfect description for Keene, but it was

also pleasant; something he had never drunk, even

outside the Yukon. Guzzling it, he took a few sips,

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ignoring the internal burning that the steaming liquid

caused.

— I never thought I would tell you this,

Professor, but... you really have done something useful,

— said the Canadian.

— Oh, God, you're going to make me blush, —

replied the other. — What's the suicidal idea now?

— Not this time, Keene, old boy. Hand over

those skewers and let's eat them at once. When we

prepared meat in the woods before, these animals

quickly appeared. Let's repeat the phenomenon, shall

we?

— I wonder what could go wrong with such a

brilliant plan...

— Shut up, you grumpy old man, and give me a

piece of meat.

The elk preparation had a firm texture, as if dried

out by salt and heat, but the fire still had the power to

revitalize some of its original juiciness, making the fat

tender again. Keene was careful not to let the fat drip

onto his clothes, which was only to the amusement of

Andri, who saw no practicality in being so careful.

— Eat it with gusto! — he exclaimed with a huge

smile, taking another sip of the tea Jacob had offered

him.

— I would if I didn't look like a pig for doing it,

— the British man replied, despairing at the filth on his

hands.

— Anyway, get up, old man. We want the meat

to be the bait and not ourselves. Do you think you can

walk to one of the far logs? I don't want you to get hurt

when I throw the explosives.

597

— I believe so; I can at least try.

— Very well, please do so. I need to make sure

that some preparations are already secured for the time.

See that tree at the end of the clearing?

— You must learn, mate, that you have osprey

eyes.

— Okay, just walk to the end of the tree line and

climb the trunk that seems to be the biggest, okay?

Groaning in pain, the biomedical doctor got up

from the ground, leaning on the outstretched hand that

the other offered him. His leg still kept the awkward

angle and he limped to walk.

— I'm glad I dismissed him earlier, — Bergeron

thought, almost feeling sorry. — This one couldn't run

away.

Just as Keene was climbing the tree, Andri also

stood up, inspecting the area. The sweet aroma of meat

still rose to his face. Perfect. Fed and now warmed up by

Keene's tea, he chose a nearby log and began to climb.

The tea must have had some calming property, he

thought, because his muscles seemed so relaxed now.

The movements required some extra effort, but it would

be worth it. A warm drink is extremely necessary in the

icy Yukon region, so much so that the Dene Indians

consume their infusions with spruce needles. He should

have thought of the idea himself, but it had not occurred

to him before. Anyway, the tree would give him an

excellent advantage, allowing him to spot the dinosaurs

before they spotted him. His hands, however, seemed to

be slightly numb now — the opposite of what you want

to feel at 20 feet. Then he heard footsteps, after all.

Something was approaching, but not what he expected.

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These were lighter footsteps, kicking up the snow as he

walked.

— Jacob? — he exclaimed, turning back. —

What are you doing here, you stupid old man? Get back

to the tree now!

— I just came to see you. How are you feeling?

— What do you mean, man? You're risking your

life here!

— Come on, don't worry about me, I'll be fine.

But what about you, Andri? Are you feeling weaker yet?

— What? — Now that he had realized the fact

again, yes, his hands no longer gripped tightly, really,

and his feet no longer remained intertwined around the

trunk. Fearing falling from the height he was at, he set

out to descend, as fast as he could, practically

plummeting to the ground at the last step. The weakness

was now enormous, consuming, and draining any

strength he had left.

— But what did you...? — he tried to say; his

body slumped to the snowy ground, unable to stand up.

— Oh, that? It was nothing. Just a testament to

how low your intelligence is.

— Jacob, you bastard...

— Save your breath, Bergeron. You'll need it.

But don't worry, my friend. As you said yourself "there

is plenty of food in the forest," — Keene spoke slowly,

approaching Andri.

Straightening himself on his legs, he took a few

steps away, turned to the trees in the distance, and

shouted:

— Help! Somebody help us, please, help! — But

a morbid roar answered him, coming from that direction.

599

Having got what he wanted, Keene ran again, as if he

had never been hurt, leaving behind what was practically

Bergeron's body.

The roars increased now — closer, more

ferocious. Only able to turn his eyes to see what was

coming, Andri saw two yellow globules appear in the

darkness of the forest. Soon two more appeared beside

them. From among the trees came a huge Ceratosaurus

— eight meters long. The smaller one followed her,

waiting for the gigantic female to take the lead. The

males seemed to be hesitant and wait for the prey to run

away or otherwise react to the attack, but not the female.

Roaring grimly as she advanced, she had her huge mouth

wide open, not unlike Bergeron, who cried out in horror.

In the next instant, the creature's fangs closed over his

body and lifted him in the air, swinging it about, as a

canid does to tear off large chunks of flesh. The pain was

immense, before he no longer felt it.

⬫⬫⬫

A roar went through the night, followed by a

human scream. From his position, Bruneau could hear

both sounds, being not far from their source. The first

could only belong to one species in the area, and the

second...the second was even more recognizable.

— Andri? — he said to himself. Somewhere in

the woods, something terrible had happened to his pupil,

something he had been warned about and had been

unable to prevent.

It had been hours since he had left the explosives

station and the animals had kept him trapped in this tree.

600

His limbs burned painfully, alternating states of

numbness and tingling, but he refused to leave the trunk

that had saved him earlier. Until now, he had just waited

for someone to come to his rescue, but it was late; too

late. He himself would have to act to prevent more lives

from being lost. In the distance, he could still see the

creatures that were rising in the shadows, lying down

again soon after, rested, knowing that he would

eventually have to get out of there.

Perhaps more overcome by disheartenment than

courage, he began to descend, keeping his eyes fixed on

the yellowish globules that rose in the distance. It no

longer really mattered if anything happened to him, not

now that evil had come to his beloved tribe. For him, it

would be worth it to give himself up, as Bergeron had

done.

Already on the ground, he remembered to

prepare his lighter. Tied around his waist, the explosive

load was waiting to be detonated, which would happen

right after, as soon as he had a chance. With his right

hand, he held up one of the sticks, and with his left, the

silver lighter. From the shadows, the Ceratosaurus stood

up, hesitant by nature. The sight Bruneau had was

bizarre — two beings walking side by side and yet

invisible, covered by the darkness of the night. Their

outline was only visible to those who had seen them

before, in broad daylight. To the poor souls who did not

have such knowledge, the figures would only look like

glowing spheres floating in the air like fireflies. Should

anyone be deluded by the sight, their life would be taken,

before they understood the nature of their attacker.

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Closer now; maybe twelve meters. The legs of

the huge beasts made not the slightest noise, making

their presence unnoticeable. The predators were still not

advancing, waiting for Jimmy Bruneau to make a run for

it, first, but he held his position. In the next instant, he lit

the explosive, causing some light to appear in the woods.

Without reacting, the animals continued to stand still,

until the object was thrown at their feet. By instinct, the

huge dinosaurs retreated a few meters, afraid of what

their prey had used to repel their attack. But as there was

no effect from what had been thrown, one of the

attackers advanced again towards the indigenous chief,

approaching the dynamite once more. His footsteps

quickened and he opened his jaws, finally deciding to

slaughter the prey that had resisted them for a whole day.

As soon as his feet passed over the dynamite, however,

the wick finished burning. A huge explosion then lit up

the area as no human light had ever done before, causing

a gigantic fireball in the process. The animal, suffering

the shock impact, was immediately made into pieces,

leaving his companion to confront alone the man facing

him. Startled by what had happened to the other animal,

the first creature ran back into the woods, away from

Jimmy. A stick, thrown just behind his steps, narrowly

missed the dinosaur's body and exploded a few meters to

the right.

Bruneau then marched through the field he had

purified, eliminating one of the risks to the survival of

his fellows. He was now stepping on the shreds of flesh

from the body that had once fed on his own, a being that

could not be called evil but that was unjustly protected

by another, to whom the title would perfectly apply.

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Now that the way was clear, he needed to get to

the station as quickly as possible, and he knew exactly

which direction to take.

⬫⬫⬫

The forest was closing in once again, ending in

another dead-end path. It was already perhaps the third

or fourth time he had found himself at that same spot.

Looking around, there was nothing to guide him — there

were no stars or wind and even the light was almost nil.

Jacob Keene was completely lost in the middle of the

woods. Perhaps getting rid of Bergeron so far from the

station had not been a good idea, after all, he thought.

Now the beings he sought to save would be the very

ones who offered him an enormous risk. — Damned lack

of direction! — he shouted, covering his lips. This was

not the time to shout. Not here, not now. Later, when he

was out of danger, when he was back in his mansion,

enjoying the assets that allowed him to finance the

transport his team used on expeditions, as well as

personal products. This was already the eighth species he

was successful in preserving, which would make for a

great history. Soon he would open a protection

organization or something, whatever front he could

continue to use to fulfill his plans. That is, of course, if

he could find his way out of this place!

Just then, he heard dynamite explode, not far

away. — Bruneau? — he thought. — There's no way this

wretch is alive! — It was essential that the aboriginal

leader also left the scene, or someone would care to

investigate what had happened. Change of plan; he

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would follow the direction in which Bruneau was going.

If there was any danger ahead, the old man would clear

the passage, preferably by scaring off the Ceratosaurus

and not killing them. — If that mummy has hurt any of

them... — cursed Jacob. Another explosive sounded at

that moment, followed by the shrill roar of a startled

dinosaur. Yes, he had chosen to be killed slowly. How

unfortunate, indeed.

Quickening his pace, Keene reached the clearing

where the explosions seemed to have come from, but it

was already empty. Empty, except for what covered the

snow. All around, a layer of pieces, large and small, lay

scattered on the ground. Kneeling in the soft snow, Jacob

felt one of the strips, feeling in his fingers the warm

blood that still oozed out. The sensation was the last sign

that life had left in the animal before it faded away. But

Keene felt more than that. He also felt hatred growing in

his heart; greater than the hatred he had felt before; an

unrestrained rage, thirsting to avenge that innocent

blood.

Looking once more at the ground, he noticed that

Bruneau's footprints led to the south of the clearing.

That's where he would go, too, ready to carry out his

revenge.

Strangely, Keene heard no sound on the path.

There was no rustling of leaves, no roaring or cry. If

Bruneau had gone ahead, he had already gained a huge

advantage. Well, it didn't matter. At some point, he

would find him and the old man would suspect nothing,

until it was too late.

The footprints had led him to an open expanse

again, where he could locate himself better. At this point,

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however, the wind was blowing again, and the footprints,

if they were still there, had already been covered. The

marks left by the predator had also disappeared, not here,

but far behind, still at the place where the Indian chief

had exploded the dynamite. Among the white flakes

falling heavily, Jacob spotted a large gap between two

blocks of ice — the entrance to the Datsá Lowland.

Energized once again, he ran across the plain,

feeling his feet sinking into the snow as he tried to

maintain speed. Nothing was following him this far, and

there was no sign of predators in the distance. When he

finally passed the entrance, he also spotted the wide

green building that served as a warehouse. The heavy

rusty doors held their position, firm as sentinels,

guarding the front of the building. Approaching the

double metal barrier, he started hammering on the door,

calling out for our help:

— Kevin! Lucy! Open up, please!

Our response was immediate, as we were hoping

to get any news. Together, we pulled one of the doors

until there was just enough room for him to enter the

place, which he did in a split second, still limping. We

closed the door with a painful effort once more, before

we could pay him any attention.

— Where is Mr. Bergeron? — asked Lucy. Then,

covering his face with his hands, Keene said tearfully:

— He...he was caught. We were running away

from the creatures when he began to feel very weak and

could no longer walk. Before the animals reached us,

though, he begged me to go away and save my life,

because there was nothing more to be done for his. I

didn't want to agree to commit this wickedness, but he

605

insisted. Bergeron died a hero's death, kids, and this is

how he will be remembered!

The news sounded morbid to me. One more

death? Another tragedy that we had not been able to

prevent? My stomach churned as I listened to Keene's

speech. Meanwhile, Lucy had her arms crossed again

and a serious, almost angry expression.

— Don't insult my intelligence, Professor, — she

growled. — I know what you have done here, and I

know what you have done in every place we've visited.

You had one chance after another to repent and stop, and

you didn't do it. But that ends today.

Slowly removing the hands that covered his face,

Jacob revealed an expression of surprise and disbelief.

His body then stood erect on his legs, as if the wound

had been miraculously healed.