Orphan of Creation

Orphan of Creation by Roger MacBride Allen Read Free Book Online Page A

Book: Orphan of Creation by Roger MacBride Allen Read Free Book Online
Authors: Roger MacBride Allen
Tags: Science-Fiction, Evolution, Paleontology
found her place, and recommenced her reading, dismissing Barbara with a wave of her hand.
    Barbara had thought this would be the moment she would stop being afraid. It wasn’t. She felt a chill wind blow across her soul, colder than any November. She was getting close to the fear, but she was not there yet.
    She suddenly realized how much she needed some advice. Without another word to Aunt Jo, she headed inside toward the phone.

Chapter Four
    Barbara sat by the phone in Aunt Jo’s lavender-scented old lady’s bedroom, her address book at the ready, her bits of paper with her personal long-distance codes, so the call wouldn’t be charged to Aunt Jo, scribbled on them, her note pad and pen handy to jot down any advice she got. But for the life of her, she could not think of whom to call.
    It was not really advice she needed, although it would be welcome, as much as she needed a bit of hand-holding, some words of encouragement before she went off and spent time and hard-earned money on chasing an old family legend. She finally admitted to herself at least part of what was bothering her: The idea of gorilla or chimp slave-laborers dead and buried in Aunt Jo’s backyard had seemed a lot more believable in the middle of a driving midnight rainstorm than it did in the clear light of day.
    But that was just the problem. Who could she dare call at eight in the morning on the day after Thanksgiving to talk about such a crazy idea?
    She thought first of her husband. But it was safe to say that Michael would not be at his most supportive today, after spending Thanksgiving patching up people in the ER. Besides, they were separated now, and it wasn’t right to go to him for advice. Her boss, Jeffery Grossington? A kindly old man, but a very careful, conservative one. He was the one she would call if she wanted to be talked out of doing the dig. Besides, she would not dare call him at this hour, and she did not want to waste any part of her brief digging daylight waiting for what Grossington would think of as a civilized hour for the phone to ring.
    By process of elimination, that left her with Rupert Maxwell. Smiling to herself, she realized he was the one she had wanted to call all along. She shared office space with Rupert and two other paleontologists at the Smithsonian. Rupert was the new kid on the block, just arrived at the Smithsonian from his previous job at UCLA. He had named their jumbled-up, overcrowded office the Diggers’ Pit the day he had moved in, and the name had stuck. Rupert was that one person in every workplace who knew instinctively which rules he could safely ignore, who somehow got away with flouting the tribal laws without ever actually annoying anyone.
    Barbara and Rupert had had a few long lunches commiserating over each other’s divorces. Their talks had been the sort of personal discussion that was easier with a stranger in the same boat than it was with a close old friend. On the subject of unhappy personal lives, they spoke the same language. Maybe, Barbara hoped, they would also speak it when it came to work. Besides, Rupe lived his life off to one side already. He would surely lend a sympathetic ear to Barbara’s off-the-wall problem.
    She grabbed the handset off its cradle and dialed.
    <>
    The phone rang, or more accurately gave off a small electronic bleep . Rupert looked up at the wall clock, noted the time, marked his place in the book he was reading, hit the PAUSE button on the VCR to freeze the action on the football game he had taped yesterday—he had bet and won money on the game and wanted to analyze the plays for future betting reference—turned down the compact-disk player that perched atop the VCR, shutting off Bartok’s string quartet in mid-note—he was watching the game with the sound off—and reached around the mouse cage behind the computer—which was dormant, for once—to shut off the answering machine before it could cut into the call. Chairman Meow, snoozing atop the

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