jurassic.park-第82节
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st nest。 It was made of mud and straw； formed into a broad； shallow basket shape。 He counted the remains of fourteen eggs。 Of course he couldn't count the actual shells from this distance； and in any case they were long since broken and scattered over the floor； but he was able to count the indentations in the mud。 Apparently the raptors made their nests shortly before the eggs were laid； and the eggs left a permanent impression in the mud。 He also saw evidence that at least one had broken。 He credited thirteen animals。
The second nest had broken in half。 But Grant estimated it had contained nine eggshells。 The third nest had fifteen eggs； but it appeared that three eggs had been broken early。
〃What's that total？〃 Gennaro said。
〃Thirty…four born；〃 Grant said。
〃And how many do you see？〃
Grant shook his head。 The animals were running all over the cavernous interior space； darting in and out of the light。
〃I've been watching；〃 Ellie said； shining her light down at her notepad。 〃You'd have to take photos to be sure； but the snout markings of the infants are all different。 My count is thirty…three。〃
〃And juveniles？〃
〃Twentyitwo。 But； Alan…do you notice anything funny about them？〃
〃Like what？〃 Grant whispered。
〃How they arrange themselves spatially。 They're falling into some kind of a pattern or arrangement in the room。〃
Grant frowned。 He said；〃It's pretty dark。〃
〃No； look。 Look for yourself。 Watch the little ones。 When they are playing； they tumble and run every which way。 But in between； when the babies are standing around； notice how they orient their bodies。 They face either that wall； or the opposite wall。 It's like they line up。〃
〃I don't know； Ellie。 You think there's a colony metastructure？ Like bees？〃
〃No； not exactly；〃 she said。 〃It's more subtle than that。 It's just a tendency。〃
〃And the babies do it？〃
〃No。 They all do it。 The adults do it； too。 Watch them。 I'm telling you； they line up。〃
Grant frowned。 It seemed as if she was right。 The animals engaged in all sorts of behavior； but during pauses； moments when they were watching or relaxing； they seemed to orient themselves in particular ways； almost as if there were invisible lines on the floor。
〃Beats me；〃 Grant said。 〃Maybe there's a breeze。 。 。 。〃
〃I don't feel one； Alan。〃
〃What are they doing？ Some kind of social organization expressed as spatial structure？〃
〃That doesn't make sense；〃 she said。 〃Because they all do it。〃
Gennaro flipped up his watch。 〃I knew this thing would e in handy one day。〃 Beneath the watch face was a pass；
Grant said； 〃You have much use for that in court？〃
〃No。〃 Gennaro shook his head。 〃My wife gave it to me；〃 he explained； 〃for my birthday。〃 He peered at the pass。 〃Well；〃 he said； 〃they're not lined up according to anything。 。 。 。 I guess they're sort of northeast…southwest； something like that。〃
Ellie said； 〃Maybe they're hearing something； turning their heads so they can hear。 。 。 。〃
Grant frowned。
〃Or maybe it's just ritual behavior；〃 she said； 〃species…specific behavior that serves to identify them to one another。 But maybe it doesn't have any broader meaning。〃 Ellie sighed。 〃Or maybe they're weird。 Maybe dinosaurs are weird。 Or maybe it's a kind of munication。〃
Grant was thinking the same thing。 Bees could municate spatially； by doing a kind of dance。 Perhaps dinosaurs could do the same thing。
Gennaro watched them and said； 〃Why don't they go outside？〃
〃They're nocturnal；〃
〃Yes； but it almost seems like they're hiding。〃
Grant shrugged。 In the next moment； the infants began to squeak and hop excitedly。 The adults watched curiously for a moment。 And then； with hoots and cries that echoed in the dark cavernous space； all the dinosaurs wheeled and ran； heading down the concrete tunnel； into the darkness beyond。
Hammond
John Hammond sat down heavily in the damp earth of the hillside and tried to catch his breath。 Dear God； it was hot； he thought。 Hot and humid。 He felt as if he were breathing through a sponge。
He looked down at the streambed； now forty feet below。 It seemed like hours since he had left the trickling water and begun to climb the hill。 His ankle was now swollen and dark purple。 He couldn't put any weight on it at all。 He was forced to hop up the hill on his other leg； which now burned with pain from the exertion。
And he was thirsty。 Before leaving the stream behind； he had drunk from it； even though he knew this was unwise。 Now he felt dizzy； and the world sometimes swirled around him。 He was having trouble with his balance。 But he knew he had to climb the hill； and get back to the path above。 Hammond thought he had heard footsteps on the path several times during the previous hour； and each time he had shouted for help。 But somehow his voice hadn't carried far enough； he hadn't been rescued。 And so； as the afternoon wore on； he began to realize that he would have to climb the hillside； injured leg or not。 And that was what he was doing now。
Those damned kids。
Hammond shook his head； trying to clear it… He had been climbing for more than an hour； and he had gone only a third of the distance up the hill。 And he was tired； panting like an old dog。 His leg throbbed。 He was dizzy。 Of course； he knew perfectly well that he was in no danger…he was almost within sight of his bungalow； for God's sake…but he had to admit he was tired。 Sitting on the hillside； he found he didn't really want to move any more。
And why shouldn't he be tired？ he thought。 He was seventy…six years old。 That was no age to be climbing around hillsides。 Even though Hammond was in peak condition for a man his age。 Personally； he expected to live to be a hundred。 It was just a matter of taking care of yourself； of taking care of things as they came up。 Certainly he had plenty of reasons to live。 Other parks to build。 Other wonders to create…
He heard a squeaking； then a chattering sound。 Some kind of small birds； hopping in the undergrowth。 He'd been hearing small animals all afternoon。 There were all kinds of things out here： rats； possums； snakes。
The squeaking got louder； and small bits of earth rolled down the hillside past him。 Something was ing。 Then he saw a dark green animal hopping down the hill toward him…and another…and another。
pys； he thought with a chill。
Scavengers。
The pys didn't look dangerous。 They were about as big as chickens； and they moved up and down with little nervous jerks； like chickens。 But he knew they were poisonous。 Their bites had a slow…acting poison that they used to kill crippled animals。
Crippled animals； he thought； frowning。
The first of the pys perched on the hillside； staring at him。 It stayed about five feet away； beyond his reach； and just watched him。 Others came down soon after； and they stood in a row。 Watching。 They hopped up and down and chittered and waved their little clawed hands。
〃Sboo！ Get out！〃 he said； and threw a rock。
The pys backed away； but only a foot or two。 They weren't afraid。 They seemed to know he couldn't hurt them。
Angrily； Hammond tore a branch from a tree and swiped at them with it。 The pys dodged； nipped at the leaves； squeaked happily。 They seemed to think he was playing a game。
He thought again about the poison。 He remembered that one of the animal handlers had been bitten by a py in a cage。 The handler had said the poison was like a narcotic…peaceful； dreamy。 No pain。
You just wanted to go to sleep。
The hell with that； he thought。 Hammond picked up a rock； aimed carefully； and threw it； striking one py flat in the chest。 The little animal shrieked in alarm as it was knocked backward； and rolled over its tail。 The other animals immediately backed away。
Better。
Hammond turned away； and started to climb the hill once more。 Holding branches in both hands； he hopped on his left leg； feeling the ache in his thigh。 He had not gone more than ten feet when one of the pys jumped onto his back。 He flung his arms wildly； knocking the animal away； but lost his balance and slid back down the hillside。 As he came to a stop； a second py sprang forward； and took a tiny nip from his hand。 He looked with horror； seeing the blood flow over his fingers。 He turned and began to scramble up the hillside again。
Another py lumped onto his shoulder； and he felt a brief pain as it bit the back of his neck。 He shrieked and smacked the animal away。 He turned to face the animals； breathing hard； and they stood all around him； hopping up and down and cocking their heads； watching him。 From the bite on his neck； he felt warmth flow through his shoulders； down his spine。
Lying on his back on the hillside； he began to feel strangely relaxed； detached from himself。 But he realized that nothing was wrong。 No error had been made。 Malcolm was quite incorrect in his analysis。 Hammond lay very still； as still as a child in its crib； and he felt wonderfully peaceful。 When the next py came up and bit his ankle； he made only a halfhearted effort to kick it away。 The little animals edged closer。 Soon they were chattering all around him； like excited birds。 He raised his head as an
