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over a spot in the clearing. She felt the landing blades touch dirt, and the pilot signaled for her and the others to exit.

As she hopped out, ducking her head, she saw the other copters and teams exiting their aircraft. The choppers took off immediately, and Tracey scanned the ground for animal prints, specifically theropod prints.

Her attention, however, was drawn to the sky, which was flickering. Discharges of electricity forked horizontally across the sky. It appeared as if a dome covered the island, and the atmosphere outside was hot pink in color. Nielsen walked directly to her.

“Do you see any prints?” he asked, looking up at the sky. He saw she was looking up at the show rather than down at the ground. “It’s the containment bubble. It’s unstable. The helicopters have to get out before it decompensates.”

As the staccato chopping of helicopter blades grew distant, they were replaced by the gunning of Humvee engines. Tracey looked around and watched Collins’ men assemble the staging base. Poseidon Tech staff melded with the paramilitary security detail, erecting tents and establishing com links. Collins’ men set up a perimeter around base camp, while the weapons teams set up the Humvee-mounted weaponry. Pilots fueled the two Hueys for reconnaissance and potential air support.

Tracey noted this expedition was larger and better equipped than the last one. She had never heard of a belt-fed grenade launcher before, but it sounded promising. She allowed herself to feel cautiously optimistic. “It’s a little big, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?” shouted Nielsen over the din.

“Don’t you think this is going to attract attention?”

Collins strode up to the two of them, watching his men and shouting directions.

“Dr. Moran is afraid we’re being too noisy,” said Nielsen. “That we’re going to draw the dinosaurs to us.”

Collins shook his head. “Negative. We’ve got radar up and operational. Within minutes we’ll have drones scouting the area.” As if in response to his statement, several drones mounted with mini cameras buzzed into the air like bumble bees and scattered.

“Dr. Moran, what about the ground?” reminded Nielsen. “We need you to look for prints, anything that might indicate an imminent threat.”

When Tracey looked hesitant, Collins added, “I’ll send one of my men with you.”

Tracey glared at him. “If a T. rex decided to barrel out of the tree line and attack me, your man would only be the appetizer to my entrée.”

Collins nodded. He waved at one of the men operating one of the Humvees. The man shouted something at another, who then hopped in the back. The first man jumped into the driver’s seat, turned the ignition, and threw the Humvee into gear. He drove over to where Tracey, Collins, and Nielsen were standing and stopped.

“This is Trevino and Roach.” Each man nodded in-turn. “You’ll go with them,” said Collins, gesturing to the Humvee with his right hand. “They are more than equipped to take down a T. rex.”

“We’ve got your back, ma’am,” said Trevino.

“Yeah?” said Tracey. “I feel safer already.” She lingered a moment, maintaining eye contact with Collins. She sighed and hopped into the Humvee. The man in the back manning the grenade launcher offered her his hand, but she ignored it.

“Follow her every instruction,” said Collins. “She’s the expert.”

“Yessir,” said Trevino and Roach, almost in unison. They took off.

As Trevino drove away, he looked at Tracey and smiled. “Where to first?”

Tracey looked around. “Take me out a ways.”

“Sure thing.”

The Humvee tore off past the tents and out into the clearing.

“Slow down,” said Tracey.

Trevino dropped it into low gear and reduced his speed. She hung out over the open side, scanning the ground. “Stop. Here.”

Trevino stepped on the brake and came to a stop. Tracey hopped out, her eyes darting back and forth all over the dirt. She walked twenty feet away from the Humvee and crouched.

“Keep your eyes peeled on the tree line,” she heard Trevino tell Roach.

She reached down and probed the dirt with her finger. “I’ve got tracks!”

“Anything we need to worry about?” asked Roach.

Tracey followed the direction of the tracks, out further into the clearing. She squinted her eyes, extended an arm, and pointed her right index finger. “Take me there.”

Trevino and Roach both turned to look where she was pointing. “What’s there?” asked Trevino.

Tracey stood, dusting off her thighs with her hands. “That’s where the tracks lead. There’s something there.”

“I gotta radio this in,” said Trevino. He grabbed his radio. “Stallion to Chief. Come in.”

“Stallion?” Tracey rolled her eyes. “I thought you guys were supposed to be like ‘B2 to B7’ and such.”

Trevino winked at her. “This is private sector, doc.”

His radio crackled. ‘Yeah, what is it, Stallion?”

“Dr. Moran has found something.”

‘What is it?’

Trevino pulled his radio away from his mouth and looked at Tracy, waiting.

“There are prints,” said Tracey. “They don’t look like theropods, but I want to check it out anyway.”

Trevino got on his radio again. “They’re not theropods, but she wants to check it out.”

‘So, check it out,’ said Collins.

“Copy that. Over and out.” Trevino jerked his head, indicating for Tracey to hop in. “Let’s go, doc.”

Tracey rounded the Humvee and pulled herself inside, and Trevino took off. Tracey looked back at Roach manning the grenade launcher. His eyes were peeled on the terrain ahead while keeping an eye on the tree line. Suddenly, his eyes widened. “We’ve got dinos!” He trained the grenade launcher straight ahead.

Tracey turned around and saw what he saw. Trevino hit the brakes, and the Humvee skidded to a halt in the dirt. “We’ve got dinos,” he gasped.

Tracey hopped out of the Humvee and darted off in their direction.

“Hey, wait!” Trevino called after her.

“Where the hell does she think she’s going?” asked Roach.

Tracey didn’t look back. As she

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