Jurassic Dead by David Sakmyster, Rick Chesler Page B

stupid stunt, much less what you did after you got here. The question now, is what are you going to do about it?”
    “Well, I just plan to lay low until they drop us off in Chile, I guess, and then…”
    “No, Alex. I mean with your life. What are you going to do to make sure this kind of thing never, ever happens again? Because this might be Antarctica, but you pull something like this back in the States, and there won't be anything I can do to help you, Alex. Do you understand that? You thought it was bad standing over there for a few hours? You want to go to prison for the rest of your life?” He raised his voice. “Because that's where you're headed, damn it!”
    Alex looked down at the floor. Marcus, seeing that he had finally managed to make an impact, pressed on.
    “What else can you direct your energy toward besides activism? Because nobody's going to pay you inadvertently to kill people and destroy property, I don't care how pure your motives are. I understand where you're coming from. I really do. You wouldn't believe the number of times I've been out in the field on a dig in some remote, beautiful place, and find all kinds of trash left behind by careless campers, or even worse, industrial waste dumped by companies who can't be troubled to dispose of it properly. It disgusts me, but I don't blow up their campers or poison their food. I just do my job in the hopes that the more I can tell people about the amazing history of life on our planet, the more respect for the environment they'll have.”
    Alex wiped his eyes and looked up at his father. Marcus was certain he saw something there he'd never seen before. Was that respect?
    “Um…I can fly.”
    Marcus wondered, is he high on drugs? “What?”
    “Flying lessons. Summer three years ago. I didn’t tell you, but mom knew. She paid for them.”
    “She did? Great, I guess I know why she kept that quiet. Yet another summer break spent goofing off while the rest of the world worked.”
    Alex took a deep breath, as if pushing back a reply he might regret with a blast of incoming cold air. “Okay. Not going to argue, but what I was saying is that I finally finished. I actually saved enough money on my own to go back and finish the lessons. I just got my prop plane license in the mail from the FAA two weeks ago.”
    Marcus studied his son's expression. “That's great, Alex. Congratulations, but honestly, I don't see what that's got to do with your situation right now.”
    Alex held his hands up. “Dad. I can be a pilot! I can take people on eco-tours in small planes. My instructor told me he can hook me up with a guy who certifies for float planes, and then I'd be able to…”
    “Alex! Really—”
    He cut himself off as they heard the sound of the tanker's humungous anchor being winched back into the ship.
    “What?”
    “I just don't think—” Again, Marcus stopped himself short. Now is not the time to talk about being realistic, he told himself. It wasn't realistic to be stuck on an oil tanker in Antarctica with a frozen dinosaur after you've just been shit-canned from the most rewarding job a paleontologist could ever hope to find, either, yet...here he was. Let it go.
    “Never mind. We'll discuss it further when we get back home.”
    Alex shrugged. “Okay. Well, it would make Mom proud, don't you think?”
    Marcus looked at his son. Yet another uncomfortable subject between them. “All your mother wants from you, Alex, is simply to hear from you now and then. She's dying of cancer and you haven't seen her in over a year.”
    “I thought it was in remission?”
    “It was. For a while. It came back about six months ago.”
    “I sent her an email.”
    Marcus gave a sage nod. “So you send your dying mother an email on Mother's Day and now you've fulfilled your obligation, is that it?”
    “Oh, come on!” Alex stood up from the bed.
    “A real Son of the Year. Yeah, that's you.”
    “And you’re Husband of the Year? This is why I can't ever