THEY SPRINTED, GALLOPING and swerving around the hardscrabble landforms of the steppes, Ank’s tail undulating and swaying, Williams’ poncho flapping in the wind. And at first it seemed they might keep that pace indefinitely—for they had both experienced a burst of raw energy since leaving the compound and its night of delicate terrors behind—and yet it was not to be as Williams began to lag and Ank grew concerned with his wellbeing and they at last trotted to a stop next to a pair of rusty railroad tracks, the man panting and gasping while the dinosaur used his snout to brush against him affectionately and to communicate, without judgement,
Williams lowered his head, breathing heavily, clutching his chest. “It’s—it’s no use. I’m just not going to make it ... not at this pace, Ank. Not in
