Holy shit! This is incredible!
The large skull was different enough in shape that my brain lit up with species possibilities.
My chest tightened. I'd just found a brand-new fossil bed. And these two skeletons weren't just the fossilized remains of lone wanderers, they were another species that no one had discovered in this area before.
The urge to cheer and whoop for joy was huge. But I bit my tongue. I needed to work this site as quickly as possible before Doug set his sights on the skulls.
My mind raced with the implications. The grant proposals. The published paper that could finally put me on the paleontology map. I could finally step out of Doug's shadow and Marcus Webb's lies, and into my own damn career.
I glanced toward the site office.
Still no sign of Doug. Thank God!
If he kept to his usual pattern, I wouldn't see him for at least another three hours. Good. I had to get down into the pit and take photos before he surfaced.
Doug probably still hadn't realized that the stratigraphy of this site didn't match the details I'd referenced in my pitch proposal. Which was probably a good thing. I didn't need him questioning my research, and he definitely hadn't noticed what the collapse had just revealed - that the fossil site I'd been working on for days was circular in shape. I hadn't either, until now.
A flicker of light on the western horizon caught my attention. Lightning burst beneath a massive cumulonimbus cloud that was as black as soot. Shit, a storm was brewing. There was plenty of evidence around this area to prove this ground had suffered its share of brutal Outback downpours.
The last thing I needed was torrential rain to wash away my discovery of the decade.
I sprinted around the rim of my excavation pit, past the idling generator and the old bus site office, not slowing until I reached my tent on the far side. Working in stealth mode, I unzipped the flap and ducked inside.
The air was so hot it was hard to breathe. As I tugged my kit out from behind my camp bed, my heart pounded with exhilaration. But underneath that rush was my dread of Doug swooping in to steal my glory, just like Marcus had.
I'd been doing all the work, but as Doug had mentioned at least a dozen times since we left Brisbane ten days ago, without the funding he'd acquired for this exploratory dig, I wouldn't be here at all.
Did that mean he had the right to claim this is his?
Hell no. It's mine. My idea. My research. My hard work.
Especially after my previous dig supervisor, Dr. Marcus Webb, had stolen my work four years ago. By the time I realized what he’d done, he'd published a paper on the discovery, claimed a government grant, and gotten a bloody speaking tour showcasing the Burrinjuck theropod find. He had connections, reputation, and institutional power. I was just his twenty-eight-year-old researcher with no proof that I'd found that dinosaur, except my field notes.
I wasn't letting that happen again.
I tugged out my extra-long rope ladder that I always carried. It was a habit born after a dig site in the Northern Territory went deeper than I could reach, and the student who had replaced me on that site made the discovery of the season.
My rope ladder was now a permanent fixture in my kit.
Tucking the bulky rope ladder under my arm, I rezipped my tent. The last thing I needed was a scorpion or brown snake in my bed in the middle of the night. Holding my breath, I glanced at the site office again. Still no sign of Doug.
Not that I was surprised. He wasn't interested in my dig site at all. Since we'd arrived at this site, he'd disappeared inside the bus, and every time I tried to update him on my progress, he waved me off with a distracted nod or asked me to "summarize it later." He was either playing blackjack on his computer or flirting with the university's funding rep via satellite email. Or, more likely, he was still asleep in the comfort of his real bed, in the cool air-conditioning.
Definitely not digging. Definitely not sweating.
Giving the site office a wide berth, I raced back to the edge of the sinkhole. A rolling rumble filled the silence, and, groaning, I scanned the western horizon again.
No. No. No. That storm cloud had doubled in size in ten minutes.
Shit! That wasn't good.
The cave-in I'd created meant that this pit, which had been concealed for decades or even centuries, was now exposed to the elements. We had a canopy to protect us from the sun and light rain, but it would be useless against a torrential flow of water.
Adrenaline buzzed through my veins as I hammered two anchor spikes into the hardened clay near the edge of the pit. I hooked the ladder onto the spikes and gave it a solid tug.
It held.
I glanced toward the bus. Still no Doug.