Jurassic Heart Page 4

  “Have dinner with me tonight,” Dash requested, stopping me before I boarded the limo bus back to the hotel. “Just you and me. I’ll have the finest chef prepare a meal.”

  “Is it work related?” I asked.

  He peered up to the sky as if the clouds would rain down answers. Then he looked at me and smiled. “In a way it is ... I find you extremely interesting Paige Bronavanavanavich. I think it would be nice to get to know you.”

  Something told me his invite was more than project related.

  “We have the plane ride and Argentina to do that. Thank you though,” I said. I used the excuse that I wanted to relax, get my head together for the trip and get some sleep. Even though I probably could sleep on the plane, I didn’t want to. The last thing I needed was for Dash to wake me and I jolt my head up with a long strand of drool. He understood.

  I shook his hand and turned. I didn’t want him to see my exhale of regret. I wanted so much to say, “Yes. Yes. I want to spend the evening with you. Staring into those eyes, lost in the brilliancy of your words.”

  The ramblings of an enchanted teenage girl trapped in a woman’s realistic body. I was there with the project in a sense to complete my father’s life work. Plus, I had the internet on my phone. After our little jaunt into to the yesteryear amusement park, I started researching Dash.

  Really research him. Further than the rich man that he was. I looked up his time travel and quantum physics work. How did I miss it before?

  Then I dug deeper.

  His full name was Dashun Floyd Winters. His mother named him after Floyd, her family pet that passed away. Floyd was a dachshund and, oddly enough, Dash’s name was supposed to be “Dachshund”, but his mother was confused on the spelling.

  It was mentioned in an interview article and was something Dash was quite embarrassed about. He forgave his mother and her eccentricities. She still posted regularly on his social media, declaring her love for her baby boy.

  Then again, his mother was the only woman that posted anything remotely innocent. Dash’s social media pages were not pages of a scientist, rather a playboy gone wild.

  Clearly he had a reputation of being a ladies man, never one to settle down. I couldn’t find a single picture of him with the same woman twice.

  I had to spend months with Dash. The last thing I wanted was to be one of his conquests and watch from afar as he moved on to the next woman.

  So I retreated to the hotel and ordered room service.

  I had everything packed for the next morning, and not wanting to bring dirty laundry with me, I prepared a hotel laundry bag with instruction to mail the clean items to my apartment.

  However, I was restless and couldn’t sleep, so I went down to the hotel bar. As I entered Pedro and Pete were walking out. They nodded to me in acknowledgement.

  The lounge was empty, as I suspected it would be. After all, it was midnight. Frog, our survival guy was huddled in the corner with some woman who already looked three sheets to the wind. They were the only patrons I saw. After seeing Pedro, Pete and Frog, I was hoping Sheena would be there. Maybe talk to her. But she wasn’t. She was probably with Dash, I did notice he paid attention to her.

  The bartender was a middle age man more engrossed in the television than me standing at the bar waiting on a drink.

  Finally he acknowledged me and I ordered a drink.

  “Do you have a patio?” I asked.

  “Right out there.” He pointed to the glass doors.

  I looked and saw a small fire pit. How perfect. I would go there, hopefully get a little sleepy. I thanked him and signed the check to my room, lifted my drink and walked outside.

  A ring of chairs circled the fire pit and there was an older gentlemen sitting there. He sipped on a drink and smoked a cigarette. I had to decide where to sit. I didn’t want to sit too close, but yet felt it rude if I took the furthest seat from him.

  I picked a chair directly across from him and he lifted his glass to me.

  I returned the gesture as I sat.

  There were a few minutes of silence. I tried to avoid eye contact or staring at him. We were the only two out there.

  He sat alone, like me, in his own world. It was hard to tell his age with the orange glow of the fire. He was older, I could tell that. And that was reaffirmed when I heard the years in his voice when he asked me, “Winding down for the night?”

  “I am.” I replied softly. “Actually hoping to get tired enough to fall asleep.”

  “Yeah, me, too. Here’s a secret,” he said. “Finish that, get one to take up to the room.”

  I smiled. “That’s a great idea. Just don’t want to sleep in.”

  “Nah. That won’t happen. If you’re anxious now, you’ll be too anxious to oversleep.” He took a sip of his drink.

  “Are you anxious?” I asked.

  “Nope. Just old. The older you get the harder it is to stay asleep. Sometimes you just fall asleep …”

  I laughed.

  “Tonight’s not one of those nights,” he said.

  “For me either. Not that I fall asleep at the drop of a hat.”

  “I do. At inopportune times, too.” He smiled. “I’m gonna try to go to sleep though. Maybe watch something on television. I have an early flight.”

  “Me, too,” I said. “Work or vacation?”

  “Work.”

  “What do you do?” I asked, assuming he was probably retired.

  “Hard to explain. Always been an everything guy. If it breaks, I fix it. If I don’t know it, I learn it. By trade I am an inventor. I am known for making something out of anything. Was on the Discovery Channel four times.”

  “Really?” I asked. “That’s impressive.”

  He nodded. ‘Ever hear of the television show MacGyver? Well, I was the guy who invented all those things that MacGyver came up with.”

  “No way.”

  “Yep. Way.”

  “Did they actually work?”

  “The network wouldn’t use them if they didn’t. That was my job to come up with things.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “Thanks and ...” he exhaled. “So was this drink.” He stood and tossed the cigarette in the fire. “I’m gonna grab my bed time, night cap and try to get some rest. You should do the same.”

  “I will.” I showed him my glass. “After I finish this.”

  “Goodnight. It was nice talking to you—?”

  “Paige.”

  “Paige.” He nodded. “I’m Herbert Lawrence Jones. Or just Herb.”

  “Good night, Herb. It was nice talking to you, too.”

  I watched him down the remaining few drops of his drink, then go back inside to the bar.

  My eyes went to the fire, trying to get lost in thoughts. As much as I wanted to be tired, as much as I wanted to sleep, I knew it was going to be impossible. I was far too excited about the next day. I was envious of Herb for just being able to say, “I’m going to bed”. I knew I wasn’t the only restless one, Pedro and Pete must have been, along with Frog. Why else were they out and about so late? I supposed someone like Dash didn’t have that problem, he was probably already fast asleep, rejuvenating his genius mind, so he could be the early bird the next day, the bright shining example that would lead us on the thrilling, groundbreaking endeavor we were all about to undertake.

  DASH

 

  Why did I feel so guilty?

  Those feelings caused me to be restless, because they were feelings I seldom had.

  The night was quickly passing by. I stood at the sliding glass doors in my bedroom staring out to the ground and to the manmade pond that reflected the moon. I could feel the slight moving air from the air conditioner vent on the floor. It felt good against my naked body.

  I should have been fast asleep, my body resting for the next day’s journey. Yet, I was unable to sleep. I brought the champagne bottle to my lips and tilted it back, finishing the final bit, then gently let the bottle fa
ll to the floor.

  There was another chilling in the bucket, the ice was probably melted, but the drink would be cool.

  Why was I feeling this way?

  I was certain Paige would join me for dinner. So sure, that I ordered the meal before I even asked.

  What was I thinking? She was a colleague. Actually, an employee. Then again, that never stopped me.

  “Come back to bed, Dash,” her soft voice called to me.

  Barely moving, I looked over my shoulder to Martha from accounting. She was in the center of my king size bed. Her nude body covered with a sheet she held close to her chest.

  Maybe she was why I felt guilty?

  No. No.

  I called her. I told her my dinner plans were cancelled. She knew why she was there. I just couldn’t decipher my own feelings.

  “Dash,” she called me again.

  “I need another drink. You?” I asked and walked across the bedroom to the ice bucket.

  “I’m fine.”

  I grabbed the pre opened bottle and took a long drink.

  Martha sat up in bed, leaning toward me. “Come back to bed. You’re going to the jungle, or desert, or whatever it is.” She lowered the sheet. “You don’t know how long it will be until you’re with a woman again.” She removed the sheet completely. “Bed. Now. You know how you can’t go that long without it.”

  Martha was right. Like most, I had an addiction to my needs. It was going to be a while. Unless, of course, something transpired between me and Paige. Immediately my mind flashed to the phone booth, to our time trip. Our bodies close together, so tight, touching as we soared back in time. A slight arousal that lasted, technically, decades.

  Those thoughts of Paige stayed with me and I took another drink. I knew the next day was big and I should sleep, but that wasn’t going to happen. Hoping to tire, I gulped more champagne, set down the bottle and slipped in between the sheets with Martha.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  PAIGE

 

  I expected a level of enthusiasm when I boarded that plane in the morning. I expected a lot of things. One of which wasn’t the interior plane. Of that I didn’t know. I had never flown privately. It exuded calm and an aroma of coffee. I supposed everyone, like me, was restless getting prepared for the journey.

  The plane was huge and beautiful. No crowded rows. Three shades of gray interior with square, long lights were where the overhead compartment should have been. Sixteen seats, each grouped in fours, two on each side of a table that folded up. In the back of the plane was a couch and a bar.

  I wondered what the bathrooms looked like.

  It looked empty because there weren’t many of us going on that flight. Many were already on site. I felt bad for them, roughing it while we had our last night in luxury. Soon, like them, my nights would be spent in a dingy and humid tent.

  A part of me was excited. I remembered those days.

  Pete and Pedro were on board, they sat together, Frog was as well, he sat in a section with Sheena. They all acknowledged me when I boarded. I didn’t see Dash, nor Hedlin Rush and his henchman bodyguard Rocco, but I did see a new face to the group. As I approached the rear section of seats, his back was to me, I recognized him when I saw his face.

  Herbert Lawrence Jones.

  I met him the previous evening on the hotel patio, and curious about my late night drinking companion’s presence, I joined him.

  “Paige,” he smiled.

  “Herbert.”

  “Just Herb.”

  “Mind if I sit here?”

  “Please do.”

  As I took my seat, across from him, the flight attendant asked if I wanted coffee and I told her I did.

  It was served in a fine china cup which made it taste so much better.

  “Did you know last night?” I asked. “That I was part of this?”

  “I did. I just figured you’d find out when you saw me.”

  “Can I ask what brings you on this?”

  “A few reasons. One … I’m the constant.”

  “And that is?”

  “When you experiment with time travel, even if it is non-evasive, such as this, there has to be a constant. Someone to keep track of what was done, what could be changed. I am a retired quantum physicist at Yale.”

  “Have these been done before?’

  “Never. The closest was three seconds. This is big. I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see if for myself.”

  “So you know time travel,” I said. “Have you examined his work?”

  “I have and I have advised him. Dash is a great mind.”

  Briefly my mind traveled, his was more than just a great mind.

  “Are you worried?” he asked me. “About the safety of it?”

  “A little” I replied. “We’re pretty much in another dimension. I mean what happens if we get stuck? Are we stuck in the chamber, if we step out, do we step out into nothingness?”

  “Yes,” he answered. “If by some reason the chamber gets stuck, we cannot leave it. My only concern is power. We are not on unlimited power, and the power is not gauged by trip, it’s gauged by year. We won’t run out of power, we just end up arriving in the past … somewhere.”

  “Do you think that will happen?”

  “No, as long as we’re eating, we need only to survive six months.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You don’t know. A back up power source in the chamber is based on the Korean’s Science Waldon Pavilion. In a nut shell a way to convert human waste into energy.”

  “That’s kind of uh … gross.”

  “It’s science,” he said. “If we ever get stuck, you may be grateful when someone flushes the toilet.”

  That made me laugh and I crinkled my nose at him. I liked Herb. He was raw and honest.

  “What are the other reasons?” I asked. “You said there are a few reasons you’re here.”

  “Well, I told you two. Constant and an advisor, the other reason … a personal interest. Sort of closure for me.”

  “How is that?”

  “Your parents were very, near and dear friends of mine.”

  My eyes widened. “Wait. Jonesy? You’re Jonesy. I remember you.”

  Herb smiled. “That’s me. Yes. I never really ever got over the tragedy of what happened to Sterling and Donna Bronavanavanavich.”

  “My mother is still alive.”

  “But it’s still a tragedy.”

  I nodded agreeing and then noticed, Hedlin and Rocco entered the plane, followed by Dash.

  I expected the upbeat and enthusiastic Dash to call a pregame pow-wow, instead he plopped down in the front and curled up with his head against the window.

  I thought at first he was upset or depressed until I saw the flight attendant hand him a bloody Mary. I realize then he was hung over. Any hopes of hearing a pep talk were going to have to wait.

  DASH

 

  It took two Bloody Mary’s and two cups of coffee to make me human again. Although I highly doubted the feeling of guilt would wash away so easily.

  Never in all of my life had I felt guilty about enjoying the company of a woman until the moment I saw Paige when they returned from the previous night. She looked absolutely stunning and I winced in thought of having purged myself deep into my accounting staff, just for pleasure. When I looked at Paige I saw more. I saw monogamy, even if just for a little while.

  What would she think of me knowing that one moment I was pursuing her passionately, and the next I was ridding that passion on poor Martha?

  Just before a late breakfast was served, I spoke to everyone on the plane. Trying my best to keep them upbeat and excited. I told them that once we arrived, we’d head immediately to the site, put away our things and see the chamber. They hadn’t seen pictures and I couldn’t wait to see their faces.

  I drifted into many thoughts.

  Taking Paige back in time for a glimpse of her parents. I even contacted the
network that produced the reality show and retrieved the video files of the series for her.

  I also thought of the Bronavanasaurus, how not only time travel but proof of the new species would change our lives. Paige’s especially.

  She needed a large sum of money to help her mother.

  “Good morning,” the sweet, perfect voice drew me from my thoughts. “I’m not bothering you am I?”

  Her name slipped across my tongue like butter and for an instant I was a teenage boy again, totally infatuated. “Never.”

  “I just didn’t get to speak to you. I take it you have a hard time sleeping last night?”

  “A hard time. Yes. Yes,” I sighed out. “I made the best of it.”

  “I’m very excited about this.”

  “Me, as well.”

  “I met Herb.” She pointed back. “Did you know he knew my parents?”

  “I did. Brilliant man.”

  “I want to thank you again,” Paige said. “Because of this opportunity I’ll be able to get my mother to France and have her be part of that experimental spine study. She moved her finger.”

  “That’s amazing. Who is her neurosurgeon, if I may ask?”

  “Frederick Webber.”

  I whistled. “He is quite an expensive man.”

  “He’s part of the all-inclusive package at Grand Meadows.”

  “Wonderful. Why haven’t you tried the Stephen Hawking Study?”

  “I couldn’t get her in. They only accept so many people. I mean, it would be amazing to get her in there, but France is almost as good.”

  “You’d have to leave.”

  “It’s my mother.”

  “I understand,” I told her. “You know, I am a neurosurgeon. A good one. I can take a look at her situation if you’d like.”

  “I would.”

  “Then I will. When we return. Perhaps you won’t have to go to France. I mean, after this, life will be easy for you. Unless you want to continue your father’s work. Then it will be difficult work, but work you will love.”

  “Nothing more would make me happier than to fulfill my father’s dream and hear my mother’s real voice.”