Jim Baen's Universe

Science Fiction Stories

Dinosaur Egg $6

Written by Chet Gottfried

Illustrated by Alex Uphoff

Seeing the handwritten sign "Dinosaur Egg $6," Ted Albright made a hard left and cut across the southbound traffic of Route 89. He parked his Mustang on the broad shoulder of the overlook. Navajos sat behind tables and sold jewelry and pots. Behind them the Colorado River meandered in the distance, a thin, dark streak on an endless plain.

Albright sighed. He had over 200 miles to drive before reaching Mesquite and his day at the slots. But fossil dino eggs intrigued him. The Chinese ones could be purchased via eBay. South American shell fragments were also available.

The sign hung on a large, faded-blue tent, which had a canvas flap over its entrance. In front, an old Navajo sat on a rickety folding chair.

Boots crunching on gravel, Albright strolled to the Indian. "Howdy."

The Indian nodded.

Albright didn't know whether the Indian was male or female. A very old man, he decided, despite having black hair. The Navajo wore a faded denim shirt and jeans, and his eyes were almost lost in the broad face.

"Six bucks to buy your dinosaur egg?"

The Indian shook his head. "To look."

Albright laughed. "To look!? Why pay six dollars? We're in the dinosaur triangle. There are museums and sites all over the southwest. Who'd pay six bucks to see a fossil egg?"

The Indian shrugged.

An old woman, Albright decided.

"Give me one reason," he said. He wondered why he was talking to the woman when he wanted to gamble at the Oasis.

"Real egg."

Not a Navajo, Albright guessed, but she's crazy. Burned by the sun.

"Yeah, sure." But Albright didn't leave. He was held by the impossible dream of a live dinosaur egg.

"Six dollars," the Indian said.

Albright got his wallet and selected a five and a one. "Here."

The Indian took the bills and absentmindedly put them in a pocket. She had very fine if somewhat dusty hands. Standing up, the Indian was very short, her head not even reaching Albright's shoulder. She opened the flap, and Albright followed her inside. Walking behind the Indian and seeing the broad shoulders and thin hips, Albright decided that the Indian must be a man.

The tent was dark. The only light came from the entrance and whatever filtered through the canvas. Albright took off his sunglasses. After his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw a ring of chairs. In the center was a large ceramic planter filled with soil. Half buried in it was a dusky egg-shaped object, less than 6 inches across and partially covered by dry leaves.

It wasn't a fossil.

"Can I touch it?"

The Indian shrugged, and Albright gingerly put his fingertips on the egg. It felt like shell.

"It's a real egg?"

The Indian nodded.

"Maybe it came from an ostrich?"

"No."

"Where did you get it?"

The Indian didn't answer. He looked at Albright, who was desperately trying to think of anything to say. I better leave now, he thought. The Indian is crazy, no matter what the thing is. How could it be a dinosaur egg? This guy is old. But how old? Maybe a thousand years? That would make him an Anasazi. Or maybe as old as a Paleo-Indian? Whatever, dinosaurs were extinct long before then.

Albright put on his friendliest smile. "That's one great egg. You must be proud. Well, I gotta go. Thanks for sharing."

The Indian handed him a flyer. The paper described a contest: "Bet within five minutes the correct time of hatching. $100."

"The egg is going to hatch?"

The Indian nodded.

"And I'm supposed to guess the right time?" He laughed. "The egg could hatch today, tomorrow, next week, next month, or never. Who's going to be foolish enough to spend $100 for that?"

"It hatches tomorrow."

"A dinosaur is going to hatch from your egg tomorrow? Okay, suppose I guess correctly. What do I win?"

"The dinosaur."

Albright felt tempted despite knowing it was impossible. The same nemesis that had him driving to Mesquite had caught him again. He couldn't resist a bet, any kind of bet. "And if the egg doesn't hatch? Or if it hatches but a dinosaur doesn't come out?"

"It hatches tomorrow. Between noon and six."

"So you know?" A minute passed, and Albright said, "What if I win and it turns out to be an Allosaurus or some other flesh-eating monster? What would I do?"

The Indian shook his head vigorously. "Horned dinosaur. A very gentle one."

"Very gentle, huh. It would have to be. Probably grow as large as a house."

"Not very big. Okay if you have land."

"I've a ranch and 20 acres," Albright said, "north of Flagstaff. Forest mostly." Albright thought, Why am I telling him this? I wonder if he's a Hopi? They know some strange stuff.

Nodding with satisfaction, the Indian said, "That's good. Got livestock to keep the dinosaur company?"

"I've a Shire. A bay mare seventeen hands high," Albright said proudly. "She's registered at the Shire Horse Association."

"Good. You will place bet."

Albright's smile vanished. "Now wait a minute. Trying to guess when an unknown animal is going to hatch from an unknown egg is tough."

"Spread your bet." The Indian tapped at the paper. In smaller print at the bottom of the flyer, Albright read that reserving an hour was discounted to a thousand dollars.

"I don't have a thousand dollars on me—unless you take credit cards." Many roadside merchants took cards, but Albright doubted whether this Indian would accept plastic.

"Get the money. You're lucky."

"Yeah, I'll get the money. Thanks. Good-bye!" Albright left the tent. Behind him, he heard the ancient voice say, "Tomorrow. Between noon and six."

By the time Albright had his Mustang in gear and saw an opening through the traffic, a young couple was standing in front of the ancient Indian. Let them buy the chances, he thought, as he accelerated into the northbound lane.

The drive along 89 went quickly enough. After he switched to 59 to avoid the Zion tunnel, Albright thought about the old Indian and the dinosaur. By St. George, he saw a sign pointing to the Johnson Farm dinosaur site. On an impulse, he followed the signs into the city and found the place, which was a track collection. Between two condos and an industrial park, the track site consisted of a long awning over a hundred large blocks of stone. Each slab had one or more deep and well-defined footprints. Ground nearby was being broken for a permanent museum. A dapper gentleman with white hair and glasses gave a brief lecture to the several people who arrived at the same time as Albright. After looking at the tracks, he asked the dapper man, "Do you have any dinosaur eggs?"

"No, but our tracks are unique."

Albright agreed but wanted to see dinosaur eggs.

The man shrugged. "Try Provo or Salt Lake."

"Thanks." Albright walked back to his car. Both cities were in the opposite direction.

It took another hour to reach Mesquite. Albright booked a room at the Oasis, grabbed a fast meal at the hotel café, and then played a slot machine. He promised himself a limit of 500 quarters. By eight o'clock he won over $300. He ate dinner and then continued gambling. He wandered around and tried machines at random. It wasn't sensible. He didn't want to be sensible.

By midnight he won $1200 and decided to stop testing his luck. He went to his room and dialed his home to retrieve any messages. There were two, both from his girlfriend Lillie. She was at a travel agent seminar in Phoenix. The first was recorded in the morning: "Hi Ted. How ya doing? Not too lonely? The conference should be over tomorrow. Love you!" The second was an hour ago: "Hi Ted. It's me. Listen, you're not doing anything foolish? Tell me that you're not gambling. You promised. Remember? I'll be home tomorrow for dinner."

Albright took a long, slow shower, settled into bed, and thought about the morning, whether he'd have enough time for a decent session with the slots. It was a six-hour drive back home from Mesquite. Although he could cut an hour off if he drove through Las Vegas, Albright disliked the traffic and the temptation. He was well ahead and reasoned that gambling was okay as long as he won. Even Lillie would have to agree with that! But he knew she wouldn't. He had no choice. He'd leave first thing in the