The crate was blocks from any entrance in Central Park. The sun was rising.

  Viv pushed the crate as directly west as she could go. News flash, a full crate is heavier now. Plus there was something inside that might slice her fingers off. She pushed it by the relatively thick corners. She was waiting for an objection of some sort from inside, but got nothing. It was either still eating quietly or playing chess with the rat. Either case, quiet was good.

  It only took her ten to push it in, but twenty to push it out.

  Stuff Viv didn’t like about the return trip:

  -Bumps in the asphalt, which made the crate almost tip over.

  -Uphills.

  -Downhills.

  -Joggers. No one asked her about her business, but each one had the chance to whip out the phones they all kept in upper arm pouches and film the crate. One filmed popup from the crate’s occupant would wreck Viv’s life, assuming again there was a dinosaur in here.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  -Dog walkers. Same as joggers, only now there’s a four-legged creature that finds the contents of the crate really really interesting.

  -Anyone not jogging or dog walking. Why else are you in Central Park so early? At least three of these people walked closer to Viv and her crate as they passed, hoping to look at a cute dog. Viv just pushed faster.

  Viv passed a dirty blanket on the side of a road by a big rock. Was that someone homeless? No, just a blanket. It was probably from someone homeless, but if they were still using it, they woke up early. Hopefully they found a warm place to go.

  Viv took the quilted blanket. It stank of unwashed human, and was so dirty Viv couldn’t tell the original color. She draped it over the crate. It covered the crate windows and the metal gate, as well as protecting it from the wind and cold. Now Viv looked homeless herself, pushing a large odoriferous cart full of who knew what. It was a hit to her dignity, but the next jogger that ran past gave her the width berth he’d give a leper.

  She took $20 from her belt bag and tucked it under the big rock, to pay for the blanket.

  After pushing another fifty feet, she ran back and tucked two more $20s in. No way you could buy a quilt for $20 in New York City.

  She was within sight of the four lanes of Central Park West when her phone rang. She stopped and fished the phone from her belt bag. “Walt, hi.”

  “Hello, Viv,” Walt said in his West African lilt. “You are in New York now?”

  “Yeah, good news. Just captured something in Central Park. It’s gotta be our guy.”

  “Was there a nest with eggs?”

  Way to not even acknowledge a victory here, Walt. “I didn’t see any. I have no idea where he was nesting.”

  “But no eggs?”

  “Nooo. Why?”

  “Someone has a dinosaur egg on live television.”

  “What, like a fossilized one?”

  “No, a wet one. On a morning show.”

  “Did something hatch out of it?”

  “No, they made an omelet.”