D is for dinosaur, p.33
D is for Dinosaur, page 33
part #4 of Alphabet Anthologies Series
“A month or so later, Brandon broke his ankle playing football. He ended up with a few days off school and Mom went in to talk to his history teacher about how it was hard for him to concentrate with the pain, and so he got a pass on the test that week. And I was like, Why did I do my work instead of getting off like him? But I don’t know if I could have gotten away with it like he did. It was always like that. I guess she thought she was doing him favors, taking care of him. But now he’s got a string of fed-up ex-girlfriends, a massive credit card debt, and a perpetual coprophagous grin.”
“And what do you have?”
“Me? I have a PhD.”
“Sounds like you did the right thing that week.”
She stared at him, stunned and embarrassingly grateful for the praise. She was so accustomed to hearing it was wrong to resent her brother’s failures, wrong to show him up, wrong to criticize his endless second chances.
“Maybe,” she conceded. “And it really would be great if he’d get some traction this time, even in a… less traditional field.”
Xiaolang laughed. “Less traditional, yes. But don’t worry, you have your safe, conventional academic research still waiting for you tomorrow in Zunyi. I’ll drive you there in the morning.” He hesitated. “I will be driving to Zunyi several times over the next week or ten days. I will not be far from the institute.”
It was a soft pitch, well-aimed. “Is there a coffee shop near the institute?” asked Brianna.
“I believe so.”
“Drivers need a lot of caffeine, to stay alert on the road. Especially mountain roads.” Brianna tipped her head, nodding thoughtfully. “And academics need a lot of caffeine, to stay alert over their research.”
“Maybe we could get some coffee at the same time.”
“Maybe.”
Brandon, as always, ruined everything. “Guys! Hey, guys! I’m through!” He came into the doorway, waving them away from the stone window. “Come on!”
The passage Brandon had cleared was only about eighteen inches high, and narrow even for Brianna’s slim shoulders. “We crawl through?” she asked skeptically. “I didn’t bring my fedora and bullwhip.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Brandon, you had me kidnapped straight off the plane. I thought I was going to meet Dr. Wang in these clothes. I’m not dressed for crawling through centuries of dirt.”
Brandon, crouching in the low tunnel, leaned out to regard her. “You’re offered the chance to crawl through a secret passage in an ancient temple to look for dinosaurs, and you’re balking because you’re worried about clothes?”
Brianna made a small, strangled noise in her throat. She hated it when he was right. How could he be right so often, when he was always wrong? It was infuriating.
The passage was too low to crawl comfortably, so she had to lower herself to her elbows. Grit bit at her forearms as she wriggled after Brandon and Xiaolang, grateful to be last so they could not watch her flopping like a walrus. Her flashlight illuminated only Xiaolang’s legs and a short stretch of the narrow, unfinished arch of the passage.
“Brandon?” she called. “How far is this?”
“Not too far,” he called back, muffled by Xiaolang between them. “About a half-mile or so.”
“Brandon!”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. About twenty meters.” He was still crawling. “Here, I’ll distract you with background. Did you know that three different languages in pre-Columbian Central America named a deity the ‘feathered serpent’? They trace back to a thousand years before the Spanish arrived. Have you ever looked at the statues depicting Quetzalcoatl? A reptilian head with a ruff of protruding feathers.” His flashlight bobbed. “Meso-American archaeologists have always said it was a blend of rattlesnake and bird. It’s only been in the last few decades that we have accepted the idea of feathered dinosaurs.”
“And you think it’s the same as the fènghuáng?”
“Not necessarily; the art is recognizably different. But we are talking different hemispheres; it’d make sense to see different species.”
“Uh, huh,” she called. “So you guys believe in a, what do they call it, a young earth?”
“I never said that,” Brandon corrected her.
Xiaolang said, “We believe in the long tail of a declining species. It is not that we think dinosaurs did not exist during the Jurassic age or that there was no Jurassic age; we only suggest that some may have persisted, albeit in small numbers.”
“There are lots of references to creatures which might be dinosaurs, or something like them,” Brandon said.
“So you keep telling me,” grumbled Brianna, but she wasn’t as irritated as she sounded. There were an awful lot of instances, Quetzalcoatl and dragons and the fènghuáng. How much was reliable?
“Did we mention Marco Polo yet?”
“What?”
“I guess not. He described dinosaurs right here in China.”
“I disagree,” said Xiaolang. “What he described are not consistent with current dinosaur theories. They may have been heavier reptiles, similar to crocodiles or Komodo dragons, but they are not likely to be related to what we seek as the fènghuáng.”
“You can’t argue with Marco Polo, Xiaolang.”
“It weakens the argument, as I’ve said. The other references are consistent with birds and dinosaurs. Polo describes something like a crocodile.”
“We’re here,” Brandon said, his voice changing as he left the passage.
Brianna crawled out after them, getting to her feet in a domed chamber which faded to shadow all around them. Brandon swung the beam of his flashlight overhead, briefly illuminating a low, curved ceiling, and then pointed the light forward.
“Oh, wow,” breathed Brianna.
The statue was ancient and intact, nothing like the tourist-worn examples in the public temple below. Smoothed stone formed a tall, lean bird, head extended forward and mouth closed, feathers streaking back from its head and half-tucked wings and then gliding back into a long plumed tail which disappeared in the darkness.
“It’s a beautiful piece,” Brianna said, moving toward it. “Oh, you sexy thing.”
Fragments of color clung occasionally to the carved fènghuáng, but the stone was mostly bare. A few flakes of oxidized paint lay about the base and floor; victims of time.
“There’s an inscription wrapping the four sides of the base,” Brandon pointed out. “We need the period confirmed. Authenticity.”
Brianna squatted to look at the square pillar, turning her flashlight on it. “This is old,” she said. “What period is the temple?”
“Qinglong Dong was begun in the early Ming Dynasty.” Brandon glanced sideways at Brianna. “That is not so long after Marco Polo described his great lizards.”
“Oh, shut up about Marco Polo already. He didn’t write this.”
“No. But what I meant was, Qinglong Dong could have been constructed on a more ancient site. The fènghuáng has been venerated for thousands of years.”
“Well, this is definitely pre-Ming.” She frowned at the stone. “More light, please. All angles, no shadows.”
They turned their lights on the inscription, and she began examining it.
“Also,” began Brandon, a touch of embarrassment in his voice, “if you could, you know, tell us what it says….”
She pulled her head back and stared at him. “What?”
“You know. Translate it.”
She stared at him in speechless incredulity. “You—you—you don’t even—you just—my plane—”
“C’mon, Bri, this is what you do! You’re good at this!”
“Flattery will get you a punch in the teeth,” she snarled. “I can’t believe you dragged me out here to verify something you haven’t even identified yourself.” Brandon started to answer, but she held up a warning finger. “Punch in the teeth,” she repeated. “Shut up and hold the light.”
He did.
“Well,” she said, “I can’t possibly translate this off the cuff. Not my period, for one thing. But I’ll tell you it can’t be that ancient.”
“What? Why not?” they both cried.
She pointed. “See these characters? Fengfeng laklak. That’s an onomatopoetic reference to the sound of a bell.”
“And?”
“And that means this can’t possibly predate the casting of bronze bells. That’s going to be Zhou dynasty, or about tenth century BCE at the very earliest.”
“Tenth century!” Brandon and Xiaolang looked at each other, faces splitting into delighted grins. “That’s almost twenty-five hundred years before Qinglong Dong was started! It’s definitely a more ancient site!”
“Hold on,” cautioned Brianna. “That’s not how it works. That’s the earliest possible date, but it could be much later. I’ll need to analyze the characters used, the shape of the strokes, the—”
They weren’t concerned with her caveats. They were jumping and slapping backs and bouncing the flashlights everywhere but the inscription. Brianna sighed and gave up, rocking back onto the floor in a more comfortable position.
Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, now that she wasn’t focusing beneath the flashlights’ combined beams, and she looked away from the statue and about the room itself. It was large, the edges shadowed beyond the light’s reach, and the floor was of packed earth, not stone. The ceiling was roughly domed. Shaped by human hands, probably, though from solid rock or using a natural fissure or cave, she couldn’t guess. Geology wasn’t her thing.
There was another statue across the room, she noticed. It was barely visible in the dark, and—
Suddenly she reached out to seize both men by the ankles, gripping tight. They stopped, looking down at her. “What?”
She couldn’t say it. “There—over there—it’s moving. It’s real.”
They looked where she was staring.
It was a bird. Only it couldn’t be a bird, not really—it was the size of a turkey, maybe, or an eagle, but with a plumed tail which stretched far behind like that of a phoenix or a peacock. It was perhaps as long as Brianna was tall, nose to tail tip, and it was covered in glorious blue-green feathers which gleamed in the dim light like an ocean.
The creature blinked in their direction and cocked its head, listening. Brianna held her breath, though clearly it had perceived them already. It was waiting to see if they were a threat, now that they had perceived it. Suddenly she hoped they weren’t. “You aren’t going to kill it, are you? For a specimen?”
“Kill it?” Brandon repeated as if she’d suggested eating a child. “After thousands of years of holding it sacred? Are you kidding?”
“We didn’t come to collect a specimen,” whispered Xiaolang. “We didn’t know there would be a specimen.”
“There are more passages,” whispered Brandon. “We haven’t explored them. But they must go on—maybe to a mountain valley, somewhere where a tiny population has survived. Like the Lord Howe Island insects.”
The not-a-bird stepped forward, apparently dismissing them for the moment, feathers reflecting blues and greens as the faint light moved over the slim body. It paused, lifting one foot, and stared intently at the ground, eyes riveted forward. For a long moment it stood motionless, and then it snapped the foot down lightning-sharp, tearing back the packed earth floor and darting its slender muzzle into the opening. It pulled back with a squirming furry creature struggling and squeaking.
“Predator,” observed Brandon gleefully. “A surviving theropod.”
Brianna shook her head. “But it can’t be a—it can’t be a dinosaur.”
“Then don’t call it a dinosaur, if that makes you happy.”
Brianna flailed for words. “But….”
“It is the fènghuáng,” breathed Xiaolang. “It is not a myth. It was never a myth.”
The creature shook its head, snapping the body of the small creature about its narrow muzzle.
Brianna reached for her phone and thumbed the button to bring up the camera. Nothing happened. She swore, remembering the dead battery.
“Don’t worry,” said Brandon, grinning at her. “I’ve got this.” He held up his phone. A flash of light burst from it, and Brianna recoiled, shading her eyes. “Brandon!” she snapped.
The bird—dinosaur—theropod—fènghuáng leapt backward, dropping its limp prey. It stared in their direction a moment, chattering quietly. It did not seem afraid of them; perhaps it had not seen humans before. Perhaps the two species had not seen one another in centuries.
Brandon frowned at his phone. “Nothing,” he said. “Can’t see a thing.”
He was so excited. His hands were actually trembling a little as he fumbled with the phone. She had never seen him so intent on anything.
Go easy on your brother, her mother’s voice repeated in her head. It’s harder for him.
Brianna wasn’t sure it was harder for him, but she could hear her mother say, again and again, to give him one more chance. And maybe this was that chance he needed and could use. He had researched, he had acted, he had actually stayed on a project long enough to accomplish something. And what he had accomplished—they had found a dinosaur. Not just concrete evidence of an allegedly-mythological creature, but the creature itself. If he could take back proof, present his findings properly…. He could get a grant to study, make some money on talk shows and a mass market book, maybe pay Mom some of what he’d borrowed over the years—no, maybe just get himself a steady apartment and that’d be fine to start.
Brianna took a deep breath. One chance. He was her brother, after all, and her twin. One more chance. “Brandon, you did it.”
“I’m going to get a better shot,” he said.
“What?”
“Nobody will believe a blurry long-distance mass in the dark,” he said. “I need a close-up.” He started away.
“Brandon!” she whispered too loudly. “Brandon, no!”
“It’s fine,” he said. “It’s like a turkey or something.”
“I don’t think you should get close to it.”
“It eats rodents or whatever, little things. Not people. I just need a clear picture. Otherwise it’ll be like the Bigfoot or Nessie pics.”
She bit her lip, disagreeing but unable to argue with him. Always the charm and the seeming logic, with Brandon. Always the same.
She looked to Xiaolang, but he was fascinated by the creature and only nodded in distracted half-agreement, hardly aware of their conversation.
Brandon eased across the open space, and she saw him start the video function on his phone. “This is it,” he whispered to the phone. “This is the fènghuáng. This is our first sighting; we thought we were coming for a statue. But this is no statue.”
The fènghuáng lifted its head from the dead prey it had been eying and chattered again, its eyes on Brandon. Brianna didn’t like how it seemed to go still. “Brandon,” she called. “Don’t get too close. The video is good enough. Come back.”
But Brandon shook his head. “I’m fine. It’s okay. As you can see, it’s aware of me, but that’s okay. Look at the feathers! They’re so colorful! You can really see how this became the phoenix of mythology. I’m going to get a couple still photos.”
He was close now, maybe fifteen feet. Too close. “Brandon—”
“It’s fine.”
The plumed tail rose a few inches higher, feathers spreading slightly.
Now Xiaolang was concerned, too. “Brandon.”
“Brandon, stop!”
He ignored her. Always the same with Brandon.
The phone flashed brilliant light, blinding in the darkness of the cavern. The fènghuáng shrieked and sprang forward, winged forearms and clawed feet extended.
“Brandon!”
The first foot struck Brandon in the groin, shoving him backward and tearing into him. He screamed as he fell backward, and the phone clattered to the side.
The fènghuáng kicked with the second leg, clawed foot catching Brandon across the neck this time. He struck at the bird, shielding his face with his arm. But the fènghuáng was already moving backward, having successfully neutralized the threat. It retreated to its prey, looked back at Brandon, and then picked up the dead animal and jogged back into the darkness.
Brianna scrabbled to her feet and dashed to her brother. “Brandon!” she screamed. “Brandon, are you all right?”
He was not all right. The front of his khakis had been torn open and flesh gaped through his boxers. Brianna jammed a hand into the wound, wishing she had supplies. Why didn’t she keep a first aid kit in her backpack? Even on a plane? She was so stupid, and now Brandon was counting on her to save him from his mess again, and she wasn’t going to be able to do it.
“Brandon!”
His shielding arm drooped, and she saw his face and neck. Her body twitched as an electric shock seemed to pass through her. The gash across his jaw and throat was wide and bleeding fast.
Brianna tore her shirt over her head and stuffed it into the neck wound, as if it could dam the flow. “Oh Brandon,” she breathed. “You idiot. You stupid, stupid idiot. I’m so sorry.”
Xiaolang was behind her, pressing his hand into the wound she had abandoned. He was speaking, but Brianna couldn’t understand him, couldn’t make out his words. Somewhere in the back of her mind their mother was already screaming. Brianna could hear her voice. Why didn’t you save him? Why did you let this happen?
I didn’t, Mama. I told him to stop. He didn’t listen.
You know what he’s like! You know you have to take care of him! He’s your twin, Brianna, and you let him down!
She was crying now. “Brandon, hold on. Hold on.”
But he was wheezing, sucking air through his own blood, his eyes wide and white in the dark. He tried to speak and choked.
