Cryptozoic! Read Free

standstill. See these armored fish here?" He put

his foot through where the lobe fins appeared to be, gobbling in the

sea wrack. "I've been lying here all day watching them evolve."

The tershers laughed. One of them said, cheekily, "We thought you was

lying there trying to evolve yourself. Look as if you could do with it!"

Evidently he had appointed himself group humorist and was not much

appreciated. The others ignored him and the leader said, "You're mad!

You'll get swept away by the tide, you will!"

"It's been going out for the last million years. Don't you read the

newspapers?" As they laughed at that, he climbed to his feet and dusted

himself down -- purely instinctively, for he had never touched the sand.

They were in contact now. Looking at the leader, Bush said, "Got anything

to eat you'd care to swap for food tablets?"

The girl spoke for the first time. "A pity we can't grab some of your

evolving fish and cook them. I still can't get used to that sort of

thing -- the isolation."

She had sound teeth, though they probably needed as good a scrub as the

rest of her.

"Been here long?" he said.

"Only left 2090 last week."

He nodded. "I've been here two years. At least, I haven't been back to --

the present for two years, two and a half years. Funny to think that by

our time these walking fish will be asleep in the Old Red Sandstone!"

"We're making our way up to the Jurassic," the leader said, elbowing

the girl out of the way. "Been there?"

"Sure. I hear it's getting more like a fair ground every year."

"We'll find ourselves a place if we have to clear one."

"There's forty-six million years of it," Bush said, shrugging.

He walked with them back to the rest of the group, who stood motionless

among the inflated tents.

"I'd like to involve into one of them big Jurassic animals, with big teeth,"

the humorist said. "Tyrannosaurs or whatever they call 'em. I'd be as tough

as you then, Lenny!"

Lenny was the leader with the excoriated dimples. The funny one was called

Pete. The girl's name was Ann; she belonged to Lenny. None of the group used

names much, except Pete. Bush said his name was Bush and left it like that.

There were six men, each with a bike, and four girls who had evidently

blasted into the Devonian on the back of the men's bikes. None of the

girls were attractive, except for Ann. They all settled by the bikes,

lounging or standing; Bush was the only one who sat. He looked cautiously

round for the Dark Woman; she had disappeared; just as well -- remote

though she was, she might sense more clearly than anyone else here the

reason why Bush had tagged along with the gang.

The only other person in the group whom Bush marked out as interesting

was an older man obviously not a tersher at all, although he wore the

buckskin. His hair was a dead black, probably dyed, and under his long

nose his mouth had settled into a wry expression that seemed worth a

moment's curiosity. He said nothing, though his searching glance at Bush

spoke of an alert mind.

"Two years you been minding, you say?" Lenny said. "You a millionaire

or something?"

"Painter. Artist. Grouper. I do spatial-kinetic groupages, SKGs, if you

know what they are. And I operate back here for Wenlock Institute. How do

you all afford to get here?"

Lenny scorned to answer the question. He said, challengingly, "You're

lying, mate! You never work for the Institute! Look -- I ain't a fool! --

I know they only send recorders out into the past for eighteen months

at a time at the most. Two and a half years: what are you on about?

You can't kid me!"

"I wouldn't bother to kid you! I do work for the Institute. It's true

I came back for an eighteen-month term, but I've -- I've overstayed for

an extra year, that's all."

Lenny glared at him in contempt. "They'll have your guts for garters!"

"They won't! If you must know, I'm one of their star minders. I can get

nearer the present than anyone else on their books."

"You