CHAPTER 297
Arby and Marty stood side by side and looked at the nearby building. The sign on the front indicated that it was the nursery.
Marty squinted at the large structure. "So, this is supposed to be some kind of dinosaur factory?"
Arby rubbed sweat off his head. He was already feeling hot. "I guess."
Marty scanned the whole front face of the building and the surrounding jungle. "Where are all the dinosaurs?"
"In the building?" Arby shrugged.
Near by, Thorn was patrolling between two pickup trucks that were parked closer to the building. Noticing that every tire on each of the vehicles was flat he crouched to make a closer inspection. He ran his hands over the back tire of one of the trucks and found a sizable laceration. Thorne's brow raised suspiciously, and he stood. There was a crunch in the dirt behind him, and he turned.
Smith was approaching. "That jackass, Reuben is full of shit."
"So are you, Smith, and whatever it is you're about to complain about, I'm sure you started it."
Smith took the toothpick out of his cheek and opened his mouth wide. He appeared to be sorely offended, but Thorne wasn't paying that any mind. Before Smith could launch into a hotheaded bellyache he pointed to the tires.
"What do you make of that, Smith?"
Smith bent over and looked at the flattened tires. His face screwed up as he ran his fingers along one of the lacerations. "Some punk ass kids running around slashing everybody's tires."
Thorne half rolled his eyes. "On this remote island?"
Smith shrugged, "Maybe it's some Lord of the Flies shit."
"Just keep your eyes open."
Smith leaned close to Thorne's face. "I told you something wasn't right about this job, and now you smell it, don't you? I told you something wasn't right. I told you. Even that crazy eyes, Charlie Chaplin, son-of-a-bitch, Reuben can smell it. He may be crazy, and I certainly don't like his ass, but he's damn right!"
"Alright, Smith. I heard you. Just keep your eyes open."
Smith patted the side of a pistol that was holstered at his hip. "I always do."