See part one for explanation and disclaimers. Hallmark still owns the characters and I’m still not profiting from this. Hope you’re enjoying this. Still recommended for teens and up for action/violence and mild language. Plus this chapter has mild sexual content. Very mild, but it was too much fun for my evil alter-ego to resist.

4

There was nothing to be said for babysitting eggs.

Sure, it was way cooler to watch eggs laid by real live dinosaurs instead of regular barnyard chicken and goose eggs, but after a couple of months of staring at them while the eggs did nothing but sit there in the incubator, the novelty wore off. There were days when Jack felt like he was in the middle of a biology project back in Mr. Ramirez’s ninth grade science class all over again.

One week in the last six months had been exciting---the week when the eggs had hatched en masse. You’d have thought it was freaking Mardi Gras the way the islanders fussed and celebrated that week. Jack had been genuinely caught up in the activity of that week. Rosemary and Marion had kept him running night and day from one new hatchling to the next. The thrill didn’t last too long: First there was the joy of the non-stop pounding of full-grown dinosaur feet in the days leading up to the hatchings, which had given Jack a headache that wouldn’t quit. Why did the grown up dinosaurs have to stomp their feet over and over like that? Were they trying to vibrate the babies out of their shells? Rosemary had explained the ritual, but Jack’s headache had been too distracting for him to pay attention. Then there was the task of caring for the newborns. By the time the last hatchling had been assigned to a human life partner, Jack had gone a full two weeks on little or no sleep, up to his ears in biting, snapping hatchlings and dinosaur droppings the whole time.

Being ‘of the Earth’ sucks, Jack had concluded.

Fortunately, Rosemary wasn’t spending much time in the hatchery this particular week, and Jack was able to sneak in some time for more important projects---namely his on-going efforts to fix up his one prized possession on the island: A satellite radio. He and Karl had found the radio when it washed up on the beach a couple weeks earlier. They had got the device working just long enough to warn an oncoming boat away from the thunderstorm and Razor Reef, but Karl had used a sunstone to power it and the lousy rock had fried the radio’s circuits but good.

Karl didn’t have time to “waste” on trying to rebuild the radio again, but Jack was determined. For him, getting the radio working again was as vital to his existence as getting his next meal or avoiding the carnosaurs’ territory. It would mean picking up satellite music channels. Music. Civilization. Home. Real music, not the medieval stuff that the islanders played on equally primitive instruments. He’d never traveled anywhere without his cd player and a stack of discs. He’d been planning to get an MP3 player before he’d been stranded on Dinotopia. Just hearing music over that radio the last time they’d had it working and thinking about the possibility of having that taste of home again was like a physical ache in Jack’s heart.

“….Waste my time waiting for signs that everything’s gonna turn out fine…”

Curled up in the corner, Twenty-Six let out a growl in response to the human’s off-key crooning and about the fact that the sun had set and she was feeling put out about being late getting home for dinner. In answer, the teenager stuck his tongue out at the saurian and went right on with his singing and tinkering.

Jack had sneaked the radio with him to work that day, just as he did everyday, whether he was in the hatchery or the barns or the fields. Everyone took everyone else at their word on this island. No one ever looked into his bag of ‘tools’ to see whether there were farm implements or bits of radio and wire inside. He’d tried working on it at home, had almost had it working once, but Twenty-Six had knocked it off his nightstand. Jack could have sworn the little brat did it on purpose, and he wasn’t giving her another shot at his radio. From that day on, he kept it close to him where he could keep it from getting damaged.

“… Waste my time seeking designs and the plans and schemes of the things Divine.

But the truth’s not told, and my fate unfurls. It’s the secrets of saints, it’s the end of my world…”

“Thousands of miles from anywhere and still I have to listen to that white noise you kids think is music?”

Jack dropped the screwdriver-like tool he’d been using to pry off the back panel of the radio, but he had the presence of mind not to knock the radio off the table when he jumped. If Rosemary caught him goofing off with the radio instead of fussing over the eggs….Jack let out the breath he’d been holding when he saw Frank standing in the doorway. “Jeezus! Don’t sneak up like that, Dad! I thought you were Rosemary coming back!”

“In what way could you possibly mistake me for Rosemary?” Frank teased.

“Funny, Dad.” Jack started to hurriedly shove his tools and the pieces of the radio into his tool bag. If anyone had seen Frank come in, they’d be sticking their nose into the hatchery to greet him and see what was going on. His father didn’t venture too far from the tavern unless it was for something important. Jack really didn’t want to get busted for not working. Rosemary had all kinds of ways to ‘discourage’ slacking off on the job and all of them involved the grossest farm chores imaginable. “Don’t tell her about this, ‘kay?”

Frank helped him pick up the bits of radio, pursing his lips like he did when he was going to break unpleasant news to one of his sons. “Jack, you know you can’t call anyone with this, don’t you? I’m not going to be responsible for a search plane or a rescue ship getting wrecked out there.”

Jack understood. He was pretty sure that another reason Karl wanted nothing to do with the radio was that he didn’t want to be reminded that the means for calling for help was right there but could never be used. “I know. I just wanted to hear some music, you know? Real music.”

Frank grinned a bit. Jack and his music obsession---some things never changed. If fixing the radio made it easier for his youngest son to accept being stranded on Dinotopia, then Frank would go along with it. “Yeah, I get it. But that’s not music.”

Jack relaxed a bit now that he knew he wasn’t in danger of having his prize taken away. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, s’long walk from the tavern, what’s up?”

His father managed a look of offense. “Long walk? I’m not exactly ready for the old folks home yet, kid. I need to talk to your brother, and I figured he’d be making excuses about coming to dinner again.”

The teenager felt bad, mostly because Frank was right. Karl could be such a wank sometimes…”Sorry, Dad, he’s not here. That outsider jacked Marion’s sunstone medallion, so Karl’s going all Detective Gerard on him again.”

That much Frank knew. “That’s what I wanted to talk to him about. When will he be back?”

Jack shrugged. “Who knows? Him and Ro took off looking for the outsider this morning.” He looked out the window, noticing the sky had grown darker. “Sun’s gone down. They should be back pretty soon. Karl’s supposed to pick me up. How about you wait at Flippeau’s and I’ll bring him by? I mean, you can’t walk home in the dark anyway, right?”

Frank was getting sick of talking to his older son via messengers—human, bird, dinosaur, or otherwise. “Wonderful. I have to plan an ambush to talk to my son.”

“Oh, wait, Dad!” Jack stopped his father halfway out the door. “You think you can take Twenty-Six with? I’m bringing work home and…

Frank raised an eyebrow. “Playing with that radio, you mean?”

Jack tried the puppy-dog eyes. “No, Marion gave us a whole stack of reading for school and I thought I’d----” One look told him that his father wasn’t buying it. “Please, Dad? Spend some time with your granddaughter?” He waited for Frank’s usual reaction to that last word.

“I am not her ‘grandpa’!” Frank reprimanded. Still, Jack would leave the poor thing sitting in that corner without dinner all night once he got going on that radio of his. Not like Frank could leave the creature to starve. “Fine.”

“Great thanks!” Jack moved to retrieve Twenty-Six. The casmasaur let out another growl and tried to bite off his outstretched hand. He turned to Frank. “Uh, would you mind?”

Heaving a patient sigh, his father retrieved the baby dinosaur. She tucked contentedly under the older man’s arm. “See, she loves you,” Jack said.

“Swell.” As he passed the table, Frank paused long enough to snatch the bag containing Jack’s radio with his free hand.

Jack yelped, “Hey! What the---?”

Frank grinned over his shoulder as he strode out of the room. “You’ve got a stack of homework to do tonight, remember?”

*

Doris Le Sage was, if anything, a practical woman. A lady didn’t survive more than three decades in the wilds of Dinotopia, much less hold reign over her own pack of rovers, without a good head on her shoulders. The old fortress she’d selected as home for her pack was a wise choice: The fortress stood in a clearing on the edge of a cliff and backed up to the ocean, reducing the chances of a sneak attack from predators or anyone who was hacked off at the Outsider queen on a given day. The open meadow in front of the castle offered no hiding place to anyone thinking of attacking the place. Trees had been cut to logs, then sharpened to points and formed a criss-cross fence around the outsider perimeter of the hideaway. Even if those spikes didn’t impale an attacking T-Rex, David was sure a rampaging carnasaur would have trouble bashing through the thick, stone walls of the place. He would guess that, although it was on the very edge of the sunstone’s protective glow, this was probably the safest location on the island save for Waterfall City itself.

David only hoped she was also practical enough to let bygones by bygones in exchange for her most heartfelt desire: A ride off the island.

He’d been expecting a bad reception, and, as usual, Le Sage didn’t disappoint him. David didn’t begin to know how to approach her. He was tempted to fly Freefall right over the wall of the castle/fortress and land in their midst, let the surprise buy him some time to try to talk her into his plan. Since that plan would place him and the pterosaur in some danger of being skewered by the spears they were sure to keep on hand in case of a scalie attack, he made that ‘Plan B’. ‘Plan A’ was simpler and more direct: He landed outside the wall and knocked on the iron door beside the gate.

The guard---a particularly hairy, apeish, smelly little fellow--- poked his nose out the door, took one look at the visitor and the albino pterosaur, and sniggered. “Well, well, well, take a look at what we have here…a worthless reptile and his pet pterosaur.”

David held his breath, not from nervousness, but from self-preservation against the stink of the man’s fetid breath. He had spent months crawling around the island and its forests with members of Dane’s rather stinky pack, but the man guarding Le Sage’s domain had achieved new heights in offensive body odor. He wished Le Sage’s attention to detail extended to the hygiene of her gang and made a mental note to add having her lackeys bathe to the negotiations for Le Sage’s help.

David remembered the toothless guard from his days with the pack and tried to recall the man’s name. “Bertram…” He breathed only as much as necessary to get the words out. “I need to see Le Sage.”

Bertram quirked an eyebrow. ‘And I’d dearly love ta let ya see her…we could use the entertainment watching her make a drum out of your hide, Barrett. ‘Cept that my skin will be hanging on the wall next to yers if I let ya in here.” He looked at the skybax with disgust. “Especially with yer new friend there.” With that, Bertram slammed the door shut. There was the scrape of metal on wood from inside as a bar was lowered across the door to lock David out.

“So much for asking nicely,” David said. He returned to Freefall and swung onto the pterosaur’s back. “Pay attention, Freefall. Back home, this is what we call ‘crashing a party’.”

The pterosaur cleared the spike fence and stone walls with two effortless flaps of his massive wings. The walls might have been high, but there was an open courtyard that afforded a landing spot for the dinosaur. Men and a few women milled about the courtyard, sitting on broken crates, piles of hay, or sprawled on the dirt. They arm-wrestled (or outright wrestled), sang (way off key), drank homemade alcohol---very un-Dinotopian---and boasted of fights with scalies and sexual exploits until the sudden arrival of a pterosaur in the middle of the open yard brought the festivities to a halt. The outsiders scattered: Most backed away as dinosaur gave a roar, but a few reached for spears stacked by the gate. One charged the pterosaur, and Freefall batted him away with a sweep of his wing. The blow sent the man reeling into a puddle of mud. Bertram picked up a pole and aimed a blow at Freefall’s rider. David caught the end of the pole, hooked his arm around it, and swung Bertram into a third guard. He tossed the pole to the ground where Bertram and the guard had fallen.

Two strong hands seized David from behind, latching onto his coat and dragging him from the pterosaur’s back before either one had time to react. David felt himself pitched to the ground. Freefall saw his rider’s plight and swiveled to confront the attacker. David tried to stand, but froze when he felt the tip of a spear press against his chest. He raised a hand to Freefall, and the pterosaur halted its attack.

“Ditching me in favor of a scalie? I won’t pretend that doesn’t hurt.” Despite the words, Doris Le Sage sounded amused as she stared down at David from the other end of the spear.

“Hello, Le Sage.”

“Hello, lover…and goodbye.”

He spoke as fast as he could, before she could shove that spear into his heart. “I have Marion’s sunstone.”

The spear remained pressed against him, but it wasn’t skewering him…yet. The dark-haired woman stared down at him. At least she didn’t laugh. In fact, her merriment had abated quickly; she was all business now. If she were interested---or aware of the implications of what he’d just said---it wasn’t betrayed in her stoic expression. The pack waited for her reaction-clearly they hadn’t a clue what David was talking about. There was something quite evil in their smiles and the whispers they traded. David was a traitor to them and neither was he attached to or under the protection of another pack. That made him fair game for almost any abuse that amused them. They wouldn’t harm him until Le Sage gave her permission, so whether he lived out the night depended on his ability to win her good graces. No pressure.

Le Sage, for her part, had been prepared for almost anything when the knock came on the gate---except the sight of David Barrett landing there in her courtyard, riding a scalie no less, boasting possession of the sunstone medallion. She was angry, yes, but if he was serious…she should kill him on principle, but any potential for escaping the island took priority over emotional concerns. “Show me.”

So, she did know what he was implying. If she didn’t, Le Sage would have killed him or asked him what Marion’s sunstone had to do with anything. “And if I brought the sunstone here, what would stop you from making a pincushion out of me and keeping it for yourself?” David tsked.

She didn’t deny it. “You know me too well. For my own information, are any of Rosemary’s…what did you call them?”

“Dino-scouts,” David supplied the word.

“Dino-scouts going to come looking for that shiny rock of theirs?” Le Sage finished.

“I can almost guarantee it.”

“Lovely.” Her gave shifted to the harrumphing pterosaur. “The scalie goes,” she demanded.

“He stays.”

She complained, “He’s stinking up the place.”

“He’s too late for that,” David shot back.

He had her. David saw it in her eyes despite her substantial self-control. He saw it in the way the hand holding the spear trembled just a bit. She stared at him for another minute before the wicked smile returned. The scrawny fellow, Bertram, darted over and whispered something to her, pointing to David. Le Sage responded by laying her free hand over the guy’s face and shoving him aside. Regally, she withdrew the spear and offered David a hand getting back on his feet. “Let’s talk.”

She tossed the spear to her guards and linked her arm through David’s. “Bertram, babysit our scalie friend…and if any other unexpected guests drop in, I’m going to hang you from the high tower for pteranodon bait.”

David gestured to the uncovered courtyard. “Speaking of which, what do you do if a pteranodon flies in?”

Malice shone in her eyes. “I roast it on a very large spit…and make boots out of its skin.” The pack exploded in laughter and whistles.

“Harsh,” David answered.

As she guided him deeper into the old castle, he glanced around with interest. “Whoah…this place isn’t the Ramada Inn, but it’s a helluva lot better than those caves Dane used to have us sleeping in.”

“I never sleep outside anymore. It defeats the purpose of having your own castle.” Le Sage grinned. “I always said I’d be a better pack leader than that troll.”

“I always agreed,” he reminded her.

They stopped in front of a large, wooden door. She pushed the door open to reveal her own chamber. “And yet you leave me for a scalie?” She released his arm and leaned against the door, holding it open until he stepped into the room.

“The scalie’s just a friend. Really.” He glanced around the room. Most of the rooms he’d slept in since coming to the island were rented rooms above stores and taverns, furnished with cots and rickety tables. Her suite, with it’s fireplace, oversized bed, rugs, and bureau, was luxurious even by ‘topian standards.

In one fluid motion, Le Sage followed him into the room and closed the heavy door behind her with a powerful kick. Her smile was positively wicked. David knew that look.

“You look good, by the way,” he complimented.

She beamed a bit. “I know. But you…” Le Sage moved to stand in front of him and fingered the buttons of his shirt. He had forgotten that he was still wearing the ‘topian disguise. “…who are you kidding with this outfit?”

“Camouflage. Awful, isn’t it?”

“Well, thank the ancestors.” With that, she hooked his legs with her own and pitched both of them down onto the rugs in the vicinity of her bed. Le Sage landed on top of him. She wasted no time getting to work on removing the offending outfit. “Ditching me for a scalie is one thing. But, ditching me for the scalie-lovers? Now that would be insulting. Do you have any idea how lonely a woman can get, all alone here with no one but that hairy unwashed lot out there for company?”

“What was that rumor I heard about you and some alchemist mad scientist?” he teased her.

She almost managed an innocent look, but not quite. “That was just business…besides, he disintegrated.”

“Drag.”

“These things happen.”

*

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