Oasis Page 4

“Were the sandstorms truly so terrible?” Jack asked curiously as One-Toe grunted and snorted and continued to amble along after the Aepycamelus in front of him. “I've heard about them, but I've never really seen a proper one.”

  “Be thankful, boy.” Luna's grizzled face turned somber. “A true desert sandstorm is nothing one should hope to see. Trust me. I have encountered many dangers in my travels, from deadly lightning on the Northern Plains to hungry carnivores in the Rainy Basin. At least one can try to bargain with a Tyrannosaurus or a Giganotosaurus, or take shelter from lightning. A sandstorm cares not for offerings or begging; it respects not most shelters built by man or saurian. It does not compromise, and it is up to us to adjust to its reign here in the desert.”

  Jack listened, wide-eyed. Most people in Dribbling Spring talked about sandstorms the same way they talked about a heat wave or any other weather phenomenon. Luna, on the other hand, spoke of the violent windstorms as if they were alive. He wondered how many sandstorms she had lived through in her many years.

  Before he could ask, she abruptly stepped out of line. “I'm feeling a bit parched,” she said. “I'd better find a water-hauling Aepy and get a drink. Until later, young ones—breathe deep, seek peace.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Day one, hour six. Everyone else is napping as I write this, but I am too excited to sleep. We have stopped for a quick lunch break—I could hardly eat for the excitement, though I made sure to drink enough. The last thing I want to do is risk dehydration. That would ruin the trip much faster than all of Ty's stupid pranks rolled into one.

  Speaking of jollyhead Ty, some of the caravaners are already calling him Tall-Tale Ty because he's always talking, laughing, singing, and telling goofy stories and jokes.

  There was that stupid oasis prank, for instance. Ty is such an idiot. I don't know why they don't just tell him to grow up and stop kidding around so much. Goodness knows I want to tell him that myself about every five minutes. I always knew he was a half-cracked egg, and this trip is proving it over and over again.

  While we were eating, some of the caravaners were still talking about Ty's dumb oasis prank. I was afraid that was going to encourage him to jump up and act like the center of attention the way he usually does, but instead, the caravaners all started telling stories about the Great Oasis of legend. They spent most of the time arguing about where exactly it's supposed to be—some said northeast of Pteros, others claimed somewhere near the Tomb of Mujo Doon, while still others were certain that it lies somewhere in the area between Ancient Gorge and Red Rapid Canyon.

  All agreed, however, that there are many tales of thirsty travelers who thought they'd spied it just ahead on the horizon, only to find to their doom that it was merely a mirage. So no one is certain if the long-lost Great Oasis ever existed, or if it was only a story all along. Even Luna, the esteemed mapmaker, would not venture a guess.

  The others are waking now, so I'd better sign off. More to come . . .

  Jack blinked and yawned, shifting his weight slightly. One-Toe's saddle had been feeling less comfortable in the hours since the midday meal. Still, despite the tedium of the landscape and the hot sun, Jack wouldn't have traded places with anyone in Dinotopia.

  He was looking forward to camping that night, and to arriving in Meeramu the next evening.

  Suddenly remembering something, Jack pulled out the compact plant-identification book he carried in his pants pocket. He smiled and rubbed the cloth cover fondly, remembering the day his parents had given it to him.

  As a surprise, they had laboriously copied the contents of the book from a scroll they'd seen him borrow numerous times from the Kuskonak library. Jack's father had taken down every word in neat, crisp handwriting, while his mother had drawn the charts and illustrations, making sure they were as accurate and nearly as beautiful as the originals.

  Now, what was the name of that cycad Luna mentioned? he thought, opening the book and flipping through its well-worn pages. Was it Diaen, or Dioon, or something similar? All Jack could remember was that the common name was two eggs—

  A slight breeze ruffled the pages as he scanned them, hoping to come across the entry he wanted. Suddenly he noticed that Cragnog had wandered up beside One-Toe.

  “Hi,” Jack greeted him. “I was just wondering where you were.”

  “I was near the back of the line,” Cragnog replied cheerfully. “Listening to young Ty explaining the rules of a game he invented.”

  “Oh.” Jack grimaced. “You mean Ty-ball?”

  “That would be the one.” Cragnog gazed at him curiously. “He mentioned that you don't seem to enjoy the game.”

  Jack shrugged. “I don't see the point of chasing some silly ball around,” he retorted. “I have better things to do.”

  He realized his words came out a bit sharp, but he couldn't help it. It was like Dribbling Spring all over again—everyone loved and admired Ty, and Jack had never truly understood why. Now even sensible, intelligent Cragnog seemed to be falling under Ty's spell.

  “Maybe not better things, young friend,” Cragnog said gently. “Just different things.”

  Jack hated to disagree with Cragnog, but in this case he felt he had to challenge what his friend was saying. “I don't know about that,” he said. “If I choose to do one thing over another, then it means I think it's better.”

  “Better for you, perhaps,” Cragnog agreed. “But what is better for one might not be for another. What seems like a weakness in one context might be seen as a strength in another. For instance, the thick aerial roots of an epiphyte that drinks in water from the humid air in the Rainy Basin would do the plant no good if it were transplanted here to the Great Desert, where the air is dry.”

  “Sure, that makes sense.” Jack brushed aside the tail end of his shade cloth as a gust of warm wind blew it across his face. “But in what possible context could Ty-ball ever do anyone any good?”

  Cragnog sighed. “You miss my point, young friend. The first line in the Code of Dinotopia states, ‘Survival of all or none.' If all were the same, what point would there be in those words? Understanding and acceptance of differences are the way to harmony—for Dinotopia and all of its citizens, including you and— Argh!”

  The Pinacosaurus let out a cry as a sudden gust of hot wind whipped along the length of the caravan, kicking up a spray of gritty sand. “Are you all right?” Jack asked, brushing sand off his own face.

  “It's my eye,” Cragnog replied. “The sand blew into it, and it stings.”

  “Faizah is a healer, isn't she?” Jack commented, pointing to a woman riding near the front of the line. “Maybe you should ask her to help you rinse it.”

  “Good idea. I'll do that.”

  Cragnog hurried forward. Too late, Jack realized he had forgotten to ask the Pinacosaurus about that plant. Ah, well, he thought. That will have to wait until later.

  He tried to tuck the book into his roomy pocket, which was surprisingly full. Reaching inside, Jack remembered that his left pocket already held his magnifying glass, an extra pair of shorts that wouldn't fit into his pack, and the notebook where he was recording his impressions of the journey. He stuck the plant book into his right pocket, which held only the root digger Ty had given him and a small bag of nuts and dried berries that his mother had sent as a special snack.

  Jack pulled out the bag and helped himself to a handful of the treat, then glanced over his shoulder, planning to offer a bite to whoever was riding behind him. To his surprise, he found he was at the end of the line. He had been so busy talking with Cragnog that he hadn't noticed that they were lagging behind the others. But Aepycamelus were herd animals, and Jack knew that One-Toe wouldn't let the others get too far ahead.

  As he turned back around, Jack caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. A cloud of dust was swirling in the distance, as if another caravan were moving fast and kicking up sand as they went.

  That's odd, he thought. I thought this was the only decent road in thi
s part of the desert. And it's not like there are any towns or outposts near here. . . .

  Another sudden gust whipped by, nearly blowing off his headscarf, and whipping a fine mist of grit and sand across his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, but still wound up with sand in his eyes and mouth. Strange. That was two gusts in just a few minutes. The desert near Dribbling Spring was usually so still.

  I'm not near Dribbling Spring anymore, though, Jack reminded himself, a thrill running down his spine at the thought. Things might be very different in this part of the desert.

  A sharp whistle interrupted his thoughts. Suddenly One-Toe, who had been shuffling along at his usual pace, stopped dead in his tracks.

  “Ooof!” Jack tumbled forward at the sudden halt, his midsection slamming into the wooden handhold at the front of the saddle and expelling every bit of breath from his body. He blinked and glanced ahead. The other Aepycamelus were still moving forward. “One-Toe, what's wrong?” he gasped, trying to regain his wind. “Why did you—”

  An outburst of laughter came from just behind him. Spinning around in the saddle, Jack saw that he was no longer the last in line. Somehow, Ty had managed to get behind him.

  I must have passed him while I was clearing the sand out of my eyes, Jack thought, though his mind wasn't really on that. He touched One-Toe on the shoulder, and the Aepycamelus stepped off obediently.

  The whistle came again. Once again, One-Toe slammed on the brakes, stopping so fast that Jack had to grab the handhold to keep himself from banging into it.

  Jack spun around in his seat again. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “Did you just whistle? What's going on?”

  Ty laughed with delight. “Pretty good trick, huh?” he said. “One-Toe is a good sport.”

  “What?” As the Aepycamelus under him snorted and wheezed with what could only be interpreted as a chuckle, Jack finally realized what was happening.

  A trick. This was another one of Ty's stupid pranks. And it was aimed at Jack.

  Somehow, Ty must have convinced One-Toe to go along with him, Jack thought. Probably when we were stopped for lunch.

  He couldn't help being a bit impressed in spite of himself. As a rule, Aepycamelus were stubborn and rather lazy, much preferring to do their own thing rather than exert any extra effort to please their riders.

  It figures, Jack thought irritably. Even the Aepys like Ty.

  “Very funny,” he said through gritted teeth, holding back the tails of his headscarf as another gust blew past them. “Now, are you going to let me continue on my way, or are we going to stand here all day?”

  Ty was still laughing, his eyes squeezed shut. “Oh, I don't know. I think maybe we should stand here for a few more minutes.”

  Jack scowled. To his dismay, he saw that the rest of the caravan was already so far ahead of them that it was almost out of sight. Obviously the others hadn't yet noticed that two of their members were lagging far behind.

  But that wasn't all. As he turned around to look at Ty again, Jack caught a glimpse of something else out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head slightly to get a better look, he gasped.

  “Oh, no!” he cried, terror gripping him. “Sandstorm!”

  CHAPTER 7

  “Come on, Hardwick.” Ty grinned. “You can do better than that!”

  Jack stared at the enormous, swirling mass of whipping sand and debris sweeping across the desert behind Ty. It was only about a quarter of a mile away now, and picking up speed with every second.

  “I'm not kidding!” he shouted, already kicking at One-Toe. “Come on, we've got to get out of here!”

  Ty frowned slightly, apparently picking up on the urgency in Jack's voice. Twisting around in his Aepycamelus's saddle, he spotted the whirlwind racing toward him.

  “Oh, no!” he cried. “Run!”

  One-Toe seemed confused by the boys' shouts. Letting out a snort, he hopped in place and made a small buck, nearly colliding with Ty's Aepycamelus as it started to move after the rest of the caravan.

  “Look out!” Jack screamed desperately, clinging to the handhold with one hand while trying to keep his headscarf in place. The wind was whirling furiously around them now. “We have to get out of its path before . . .”

  The howling wind swallowed the rest of his words as the storm swept over them. Jack squeezed his eyes shut as One-Toe let out a wild, panicky cry and took off, galloping faster than Jack would have thought possible, fighting to make headway against the whirlwind surrounding them.

  I hope he's running after the caravan, Jack thought, crouching low over the handhold and trying to protect his face from the violently swirling grit whipping against him from all directions.

  It was a struggle even to breathe as the hot wind filled the air with tiny, piercing particles of sand that whistled down into his lungs with every breath and made him cough. If we can catch up to them, maybe we can all take shelter behind the saurians until this blows over. . . .

  Even as he thought it, Luna's words popped into his mind: “A true desert sandstorm is nothing one should hope to see. . . . At least one can try to bargain with a Tyrannosaurus or a Giganotosaurus. . . . A sandstorm does not compromise. . . .”

  Over the noise of the wind, Jack thought he could hear a human voice shouting his name. Was it someone from the caravan? Or perhaps just a trick of the imagination? Maybe the others had managed to escape, leaving Jack alone, trapped in the maw of the deadly storm.

  No, he realized suddenly as another shout cut through the wind's eerie wail. It's Ty. He must still be nearby.

  His relief at not being alone was so strong that his whole body went limp for a second and he almost lost his hold on the saddle. He quickly tightened his grip again as the Aepycamelus stumbled, his long, slender legs almost blown out from under him. How could the creature see? Jack had no idea. He didn't dare open his own eyes, knowing he would be instantly blinded by the harsh, blustering sand.

  Coughing, Jack let go with one hand and pulled up the collar of his shirt, yanking it over his chin and mouth to form a screen against the grit that filled the air and made it as difficult to breathe as being underwater. Meanwhile, Jack could feel the wild, throbbing beat of One-Toe's heart even through the saddle. Recognizing his mount's panic, he knew he'd better hold on tightly.

  Despite their many faults, Aepycamelus were generally benign creatures. However, on the rare occasions that they became truly frightened, they tended to fly into paroxysms of hysteria, paying no mind to anything but trying to outrun their own frenzy. Jack could only hope to maintain his seat until the storm blew past and One-Toe regained his composure. Then the only thing they would have to worry about was finding their way back to the caravan.

  One-Toe will be able to find them, Jack told himself hopefully. Aepys have a good sense of smell, and once the others realize we're missing—

  “Ja-a-a-a-ack!” The shout was closer this time—too close!

  “Look out!” Jack screamed, a split second before he felt One-Toe collide heavily with something large and solid. “Ooof!”

  He tried desperately to hold on, but the strong impact jolted his grip loose. Before he realized what was happening, he felt himself tumbling head over heels through the air, his arms flailing helplessly, his fingers scrabbling for something to grab on to but coming up empty.

  A second later he landed on the hard sand with a bone-jarring thud. He covered his head as he felt rather than heard heavy hooves thunder past. Meanwhile, the wind was still howling furiously all around him, plucking at his clothes and threatening to send him skittering across the sand. Something large and solid—a branch? a rock?—bounced off his lower leg, making it go numb.

  Even in his dazed condition, Jack realized he needed to take action if he wanted to get through the storm in one piece. Keeping his eyes squeezed tightly shut against the wind, he dug frantically at the sand beneath him, burrowing into its warm, gritty depths. He lay facedown in the ditch he'd excavated, with his arms cu
pped around his head. He could still feel the wind buffeting his back, but by lying this way, he had a pocket of slightly musty air to breathe while the worst of the storm blasted above him.

  He stayed there, huddled into his makeshift shelter, for what seemed like forever. Finally the howl of the wind subsided and the sand stopped stinging him through his clothes. After a few more minutes, Jack cautiously pushed himself up into a sitting position. Several muscles in his back and shoulders screamed in protest, and he could already feel the throbbing ache of a dozen new cuts and bruises.

  First things first. There was a thick layer of sand and grit encrusted in every crevice of his face, and he didn't dare open his eyes. Digging into his pocket, he found that the extra pair of shorts was still there. He turned them inside out and wiped his face.

  Finally he opened his eyes. The storm had passed completely out of sight, leaving nothing behind but a few scattered bits of debris. As Jack turned his head to look around, he winced again at his aches and pains. It was no picnic to fall from a ten-foot-tall Aepycamelus even at a standstill, let alone at a dead run. Jack carefully moved and stretched each of his limbs in turn, then even more carefully climbed to his feet. Luckily nothing seemed to be broken or seriously injured.

  That was the good news. As he glanced around, Jack's heart sank when he recognized the bad news. He was alone. Completely alone, lost in the desert with nothing more than the clothes on his back. There was no sign of One-Toe, no sign of Ty, no sign of the rest of the caravan.

  Suddenly realizing that his throat was scratchy and dry, he groped frantically at his belt. Whew! His canteen was still hanging there, miraculously intact. Jack thanked his lucky stars that he'd refilled it to the top during the lunch stop and drunk only a little since then.

  Not that one canteen will last me for long, he thought.

  He sank to his knees in the warm sand as the enormity of what had happened struck him fully. What was he going to do? He had no idea how far One-Toe had run before he'd fallen off, or in which direction.