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Death Among The Dinosaurs
Death Among The Dinosaurs
among the
dinosaurs
DEATH AMONG THE
DINOSAURS
By
Jennifer L. Armstrong
Death Among the Dinosaurs
by Jennifer L. Armstrong
2011
© Lostrock | Dreamstime.com
Graphic Design
© Paul Krichbaum
PART ONE
~
SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST
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Death Among the Dinosaurs
2
Chapter One
~
The Case of the Suicidal Student
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Death Among the Dinosaurs
He had gasped.
God?
“I don't even believe in God!” he had said.
But there was no redemption now. Even though his
“intelligent design” remark had merely been an observation
about the irreducible complexity of some systems, it was treated
as a deep mirror of his soul and an end to all hope of him being
permitted to study science in the rational world of men.
On the same day, his girlfriend told him she was seeing
someone else.
The result was that Darby Hollinger was now standing on top
of the Alex Fraser Bridge, the biggest bridge in British Columbia,
in Canada, for that matter. It lacked the drama of the Golden
Gate Bridge in San Francisco, which is where he and Karen had
been planning to move so he could work on his PhD. But the
Alex Fraser Bridge would do. After all, someone with his inability
to survive in the Darwinian world should have no problem dying.
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Chapter One ~ The Case of the Suicidal Student
facility. We've had our eye on you ever since you submitted an
academic paper with a reference to Intelligent Design. That takes
bravery.”
He didn't want to tell her that what it took was stupidity.
“CREATIOP,” he repeated slowly. “I've never heard of it. Is it
an acronym?”
She nodded.
“We're the Centre for Research on Evolution And Theories
Involving Other Possibilities. And I'm not surprised you haven't
heard of us. We don't exist.”
His baffled look made her laugh again.
“I mean, we don't exist in the real world, so to speak. We're
government-funded. We do research that is not subject to the
biases of academia. So no one here has to be cautious about their
findings. All possibilities are, well, a possibility.”
His baffled look remained.
“But I don't understand. What do you do, exactly?”
Another one of her laughs. The kind that sounded like angels
singing.
“Life, Darby,” she said, patting his hand. “We’re studying the
origin of life.”
Now that he was up on his feet, Leina (that was her name),
was taking him on the full tour of the facilities. It was laid-out
very much like a university – dorms, dining hall, research labs,
lecture halls. There was camaraderie, not unusual for an academic
environment. Everyone knew everyone. But what made it
different was that it was not superficial. Even in this initial tour,
he could sense there was a spirit of cooperation rather than one
of competition.
But what Leina had said earlier bothered him. The origin of
life? Wasn't the origin of life a closed subject? Everyone knew
that life had begun when a single cell had emerged, gone on to
mutate and over the next few millions of years been subject to
the laws of Darwinian evolution. Even a schoolchild could grasp
that.
The tour ended in the dining hall over an excellent cup of
Hawaiian coffee and a plate of biscotti between them.
Leina, who had been loquacious throughout the tour, was now
quiet as she sipped her coffee. She didn't seem to require any
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Chapter One ~ The Case of the Suicidal Student
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in.
From the randomness, it was obviously a natural system rather
than an artificial one. Yet, the activity itself was ordered and
constant. Within five seconds, he knew he was looking at the
micro world, but despite the knowledge, he found the journey
mesmerizing. For indeed that's what it was, a journey. And
considering Leina's question, he knew it was the inside of a cell.
All around there was movement – a surreal factory of activity.
Had he paid more attention in his Cytology class he would have
been able to name some of the things he was looking at. But that
had been Karen's strength. She had been a Biology student with
an interest in microbiology and the study of germs.
He shifted his feet. The simulation was going on and on and
from what he could tell, they weren't covering the same ground
twice. Was it possible that a single cell could be so complex? He
dismissed the idea. It wasn't important.
Finally, Leina switched on the lights.
“A lot of people here think that the theory of evolution does
not adequately explain what we've just seen. In fact, even the
theory of evolution doesn't touch on the idea of how this first
cell formed. Most of what is taught already assumes the presence
of this first cell.”
He sighed as they headed back out into the hallway. He would
have liked to have finished his coffee. Clearly the scientists
appreciated good coffee. At the expense of the taxpayers.
“The theory of evolution explains everything,” he said. “It goes
back to the big bang, remember?”
She nodded.
“Some of us feel there are flaws in that one too.”
“Of course you do,” he said. “Why wouldn't you?” It was like
saying his thoughts out loud and he knew he sounded
exasperated.
“There's freedom here,” said Leina, leading him not back to
the dining hall, but out through two glass doors that led to a
courtyard. In the courtyard were several rock sculptures, a wide
variety of evergreen trees and a few benches. The buildings were
low enough that he could see beyond to the unique rock
formations of the Alberta badlands in the distance. “An
opportunity to really study the history of science.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, as they sat down on one of
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Chapter One ~ The Case of the Suicidal Student
the benches.
“You do know that not all scientists believe in Darwinian
evolution, don't you?”
He shrugged.
“There are always cranks. But the cranks don't put men on the
moon.”
“Actually, Dr. Wernher von Braun, the rocket scientist who
developed the Saturn V booster rocket that landed men on the
moon in 1969, was a practising Christian.”
Darby rolled his eyes.
“So he was really smart. But he was probably ostracized by
everyone after they didn't need him anymore.”
“He was the Director of NASA,” said Leina.
“OK, so you've come up with the one man who managed to
get away with it,” said Darby.
“We have a library full of books by scientists who don't
believe in the paradigm presented by Darwin. Some of them are
great men of history . . .”
“Who probably practised science before Darwin was even
born,” he interrupted. “They would have been Darwinists if they
had lived today.”
“Debatable,” said Leina. “But you made my point. They
practised science. They practised science while believing in divine
creation. Johann Kepler. Francis Bacon. Blaise Pascal. Robert
Boyle. Isaac Newton. Michael Faraday . . .”
“Stop!” said Darby. “I know all this. But they would have
probably had to rethink their faith if they had lived after
Darwin.”
“Gregor Mendel did not feel the need to give up his faith just
because of Darwin,” said Leina. “Louis Pasteur carried on with
his faith and his science regardless of Darwin.”
“So this is about faith!” he said triumphantly.
Leina shook her head.
“This is a government project. If aliens seeded life here, they
want to know. If evolution is true, they want to know. If the God
of the Bible created us, they want to know.”
“Why?”
Leina shrugged.
“Information is power. The theory of evolution requires an
increase in information. Somehow, that single cell we saw had to
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10
Chapter Two
~
The Case of the Fossilized Knife
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Chapter Two ~ The Case of the Fossilized Knife
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“We all did,” said Brad, his eyes on the monitor where he was
now scrolling through archives of one of the journals.
“The only person who saw it was my professor. And his
assistant, I assume.”
Brad shrugged.
Since this was his only answer, Darby gathered that being a
government organization gave them a far greater reach than a
private research institute would have had.
He leaned against one of the tables.
“When you say my observation was true, do you mean
regarding it being a minor flaw in Darwin's theory, or it being a
favourite argument of the ID people, or it being an area for
future research?”
“All of those things,” said Brad, absently. He had found the
article he wanted and was now skimming through it.
Darby decided to push it just a little further.
“Are you a Christian, Brad?” he asked.
Brad shook his head.
“I'm Jewish,” he said. “By birth, anyhow.”
Darby thought about that.
“Nice meeting you, Brad,” he said, before leaving the small
room.
“Likewise,” said Brad, now making some quick notes on a pad
of paper by the monitor.
Darby left the library, no further ahead.
He glanced at his wrist, but there was no watch there. Must
have been water-damaged. There was no way of knowing what
time it was. And he was feeling hungry. He decided to head back
to the dining hall for more of the Hawaiian coffee, to keep him
going until the next scheduled meal.
He saw Leina coming down the hallway.
She gave him a big smile and would have kept going. But he
stopped her with a question.
“Uh, what time is it?”
She laughed. She seemed to do that a lot.
She had a watch and glanced at it.
“11:37. There should be a watch in your room.”
“Oh. I haven't been there yet. I was in the library.”
She nodded pleasantly.
“I met Brad,” he added.
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Chapter Two ~ The Case of the Fossilized Knife
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Chapter Two ~ The Case of the Fossilized Knife
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Chapter Three
~
The Case of the Missing Information
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Chapter Three ~ The Case of the Missing Information
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Chapter Three ~ The Case of the Missing Information
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cohesive.
He would stay, he decided. They needed him.
If information was what they wanted, information was what
he would give them.
24
Chapter Four
~
The Case of the Terrified Cell Biologist
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Chapter Four ~ The Case of the Terrified Cell Biologist
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Death Among the Dinosaurs
few times when she actually behaved like a loving mother) and
some of them were out of a big volume of Bible stories. They
had things like the Creation Story, Noah and the Ark, Jonah
being swallowed by a Whale. Even then they had seemed like
fairy tales.
Furthermore, the author of this article placed the Ice Age
shortly after Noah's Flood. Darby shook his head. It was like a
mainstream magazine insisting that Zeus had lived three
thousand years ago and been a Greek prime minister.
He could barely concentrate on the rest of the article. The
tone of it was certainly authoritative. The author certainly threw
out a lot of facts and a lot of quotes. In fact, if one didn't mind
treating the Bible like a history book instead of the book of
myths that it was, some of what he said might actually have made
sense. But still, it was disturbing to think that a scientist here at
CREATIOP could buy into it.
He shook his head and turned the page.
As if to validate his fear, the next page had an article about
some scientist who had gone from being a sensible evolutionist
to one who now embraced Christianity. Oh well. Probably getting
old and worried about a possible life to come. It was a
psychological fact that old people were more likely to entertain
thoughts of an afterlife than young people were.
If he ever did, he hoped somebody would shoot him. Then it
struck him how absurd that was and he chuckled. He had already
died once. He didn't need to fear it a second time.
Brad-the-geologist-who-used-to-teach-at-Oxford came into
the library, passed through the periodical room to grab the latest
issue of Science before moving on to the computer room. He gave
Darby a nod in passing.
Darby was momentarily embarrassed that someone had caught
him reading a creation magazine, but caught himself.
Academic freedom, he reminded himself. Maybe the place was
filled with kooky people, but it meant you never had to hide what
you were reading. Not that he ever had. For him, Darwinian
evolution had been a soul-satisfying explanation for the origin of
life. So he had never had to smuggle a Bible into academia for
comfort.
Another scientist came into the library, a tall skinny man with
short red hair and glasses. It was hard to tell his age. Maybe thirty.
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Chapter Four ~ The Case of the Terrified Cell Biologist
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Chapter Four ~ The Case of the Terrified Cell Biologist
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32
Chapter Five
~
The Case of the Near Nemesis
M e?”
Even Brad looked surprised. Two eyebrows went up
this time.
Leina smiled.
“I needed someone who was a scientist with your kind of
training.”
“My kind of training?”
“Deductive reasoning. An ability to sift through ideas.
Someone who can move around without generating suspicion.”
Darby just stared at her.
“There really is no burning need for a science historian at
CREATIOP,” explained Leina.
Something like a snicker came from Brad's chair.
“But no one here knows that,” continued Leina. “We all work
independently. So I just slipped your name in for the vote. Most
of the scientists here appreciated your willingness to
acknowledge the concept of ID.”
He groaned internally at the memory.
“That takes academic bravery and that's the kind of person we
want around here. I was the one who flew out to B.C. to extend
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Chapter Five ~ The Case of the Near Nemesis
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Death Among the Dinosaurs
someone on the outside about his rage that Roger would mess
around with the created order of things . . .
“What do you need us to do?” asked Brad.
Leina smiled.
“I've read enough Sherlock Holmes to be helpful to the young
pup here,” said Brad, nodding his head toward Darby.
“I think the most important thing is to keep Roger calm,” said
Leina. “Between the three of us, I think we can get to the bottom
of this without upsetting him. In fact, I'd rather he doesn't know
anything about this conversation.”
Brad nodded.
“He's a reasonable man,” said Brad. “The email upset him.
But he'll go back and read it over more carefully and realize that
it doesn't mean that his nemesis has his exact location pin-
pointed. All he has is an email address.”
“My main concern is that this investigation will be discreet,”
said Leina.
Brad assured her that Discreet was his middle name.
“My middle name is Karl, but I think I can be discreet too,”
said Darby.
“Well, old man,” said Brad when they were out in the hallway.
“Where do we start?”
It was gratifying that the older man was deferring to him.
Darby didn't want to present his theory that it was a deranged
creationist out to make trouble for the real scientists who
innocently carried on with real scientific research. He wasn't sure
at this point if Brad was with him on that one.
“You've been around here longer,” said Darby as they strolled
down the hallway. The administration wing, like every wing of
the main building, led to the dining hall. Darby glanced at his new
watch. 11:03. Plenty of time for a pre-lunch coffee. “Does
anyone leap to your mind? Anyone who's working against Roger’s
research?”
Brad shook his head as the two men entered the dining hall.
Darby got himself a coffee while Brad selected a tea bag and
filled a mug with boiling water.
Once seated, Brad elaborated.
“Not intentionally, anyway. Roger's work might have been
controversial in Arkansas but it's not something we'd argue about
here. In fact, he may be the closest to understanding the origin of
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Chapter Five ~ The Case of the Near Nemesis
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Death Among the Dinosaurs
Brad laughed.
“The Miller-Urey Experiment is so simple that a high school
student can do it. Lars has a version of it set up in his room just
for fun. It's a standing joke around here. We're all waiting for Lars
to announce he's discovered the secret of life.”
Apparently, Miller-Urey was an inadequate explanation for the
origin of life. No doubt this was the sort of thing that made the
front cover of creationist journals.
He decided to skip the scientific side of the investigation for
now.
“What about people who have been here in the past?” he
asked Brad. “Anyone who might have given away the location of
this place?”
“Not very likely,” said Brad. “I can't think of anyone who's
left the whole time I've been here. No one wants to go back out
after being here. You can get so much done when there are no
politics and no need to be a . . .”
“A kiss ass,” suggested Darby.
“I believe that's the expression, yes.”
“But what about your work?” asked Darby. “If it doesn't get
published, what's the point?”
“The publish-or-die principle doesn't really matter here,” said
Brad. “We have a salary. For those who do solid work,
recognition comes.”
“Beth says there's a printing press here.”
Brad nodded.
“Her books make it to the libraries and the bookshops. It's
because they're well written. The public doesn't make a sacred
cow out of evolution. Only our fellow scientists do. When we're
in academia, we have to satisfy our peers. Having our own press
means that our work can go straight to the public.”
He had a point. After all, Darby had dreamed of being the
authority called on to comment in the public television
documentaries - the intellectual scientist blessing the average
viewer with his great ability to synthesize knowledge into
something comprehensible for the layman.
As people began arriving for lunch, Brad introduced him to
some of the other scientists. It was a bit of a blur. Many of them
were microbiologists. There was an immunologist. Brad seemed
to be best acquainted with the palaeontologists. The big talk was
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Chapter Five ~ The Case of the Near Nemesis
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Chapter Six
~
The Case of the Scientist's Myths
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Chapter Six ~ The Case of the Scientist's Myths
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Chapter Six ~ The Case of the Scientist's Myths
of CREATIOP.
He was halfway to the door when Roger re-entered. The
startled look on his face when he saw Darby suggested that
scientists didn't usually enter each other's space. Either that, or
Roger didn't get too many visitors.
Darby casually greeted Roger and mentioned that he was
putting together something on the different scientists in the past
who had contributed to the study of the origin of life.
Roger had recovered and nodded. Obviously he had gone to
the dining hall to get a coffee because he had a large travel mug
in his hand that he was sipping from.
“I thought maybe you could give me an update on Antoni van
Leeuwenhoek and his studies.”
“I take it you mean his studies in hydra?” said Roger, sitting
down on a stool.
Darby nodded.
“I've studied hydra myself,” said Roger, waving a general hand
in the direction of his counters. “But I can't pretend to be a
science historian. At the expense of sounding simplistic, our
understanding has increased since the days of van Leeuwenheok
because we have more powerful microscopes.”
That's all Roger seemed inclined to say to him. Definitely not
the loquacious type.
What Darby really wanted to ask about what was the
controversy his work had stirred up in Alabama, er, Arkansas. But
any hints in that direction would give too much away.
“If you're looking at a history of origin of life studies, I'm not
your man,” said Roger, opening a drawer and pulling out a box of
crackers. He opened it up and took out a handful.
“Would you say that it started more with the biochemists,
Miller and Urey, those sorts of guys?”
He was really just talking to try to keep the conversation
going.
Roger shrugged as the crackers went into his mouth.
“Not for me to say,” he said, through the mouthful. Evidently,
social graces, such as closing one's mouth when eating, were not
important to him.
Darby strained his brain for something to say, anything.
“I think I'm going to go back to Francesco Redi,” he said. “He
was a physician in the 1600's.”
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Chapter Six ~ The Case of the Scientist's Myths
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Brad's room was lively with laughter and talk. Brad brought a
unique dignity to the whole thing by serving tea and Peek Frean
biscuits to his guests. Gambling was limited to small change.
The conversation touched on the work they did, but a lot of it
was general.
At one point, Darby asked if any of them were seeing
someone.
Brad laughed as he took a sip of his tea.
“Not I, old man. If you take up with someone here and then
break-up, you get to see them every day for the rest of your
earthly life.”
Dennis nodded his agreement.
One of the men said he had a girlfriend in Drumheller.
Another man, a young biologist, said he was going to do his
controversial work here at CREATIOP and then return to the
“real” world to hopefully resume a career in academia. Then he
would think about meeting someone.
“The women here aren't even interested,” said Dennis.
“They're all pretty serious about their work and aren't looking for
a relationship.”
There was general agreement.
From the sounds of it, cold showers were a matter of routine
around here.
The young biologist said he thought Mary-Jane and Jim might
be a couple.
Again, general agreement. But nobody seemed inclined to
gossip. Which would only make Darby's job harder if he ever
wanted to get their impressions about Roger. But Brad had said
that Roger had a girl, Sally Ann. He'd have to ask him about that
later.
Later turned out to be two hours. Darby hung back as
everyone thanked Brad for his hospitality. The winner, the young
biologist, pocketed all his nickels and dimes.
After they were gone, Darby asked about Sally Ann.
“Don't know much about her, old man,” said Brad, brushing
cookies crumbs off of his table. “Just a girl he mentioned once.”
“From Arkansas?”
“Didn't get that impression. More like someone in
Drumheller. Some of the younger lads go there for a beer on
weekends.”
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Chapter Six ~ The Case of the Scientist's Myths
“What about the women here at the centre?” asked Darby, his
eyes still on the floor where Brad had brushed the crumbs. “The
cleaning staff and the kitchen workers?”
Brad laughed.
“Are you looking for someone?”
“Oh no!” said Darby, startled. “I mean, it's crazy . . .”
“That's how most of us feel, old man. Hard to find a soul-
mate among the kitchen staff.”
“But a lot of people must have left someone behind . . .”
Darby didn't know why he was pursuing this line of thought.
Especially when Brad yawned.
“Dunno, old man. I suppose we all left something behind to
come here.”
Darby stood up. Brad politely escorted him to the door.
“If you're thinking of some kind of link between Roger and
one of the staff, it's not likely. We can't discuss our work with
them and there's a general understanding that this is a serious
research centre, not a place to pursue leisure.”
Darby nodded as he wished him a good-night. The door
closed behind him and he made his way to his own room. He
now knew he was the only one who had been brought to this
place without his consent. All the others had come voluntarily in
order to pursue their research. Not the type of people to look for
a relationship with the cleaning staff.
But that also ruled out the likelihood that anyone on the
kitchen staff or cleaning staff had given away Roger's location to
the outside world. They probably didn't even know his name.
So he'd have to pursue the Sally Ann lead in Drumheller.
Tomorrow was Saturday. Somehow he'd have to get himself
invited to Drumheller for a Saturday night beer.
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Chapter Seven
~
The Case of Sally Ann
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Chapter Seven ~ The Case of Sally Ann
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“Indeed there is. Just a pool table and a large television set
with a DVD player. Leina keeps a fridge stocked with drinks and
there's a microwave and lots of popcorn on hand. We take turns
playing our favourite DVDs.”
“Well, I'm glad to hear there's some entertainment.”
Brad laughed.
“I'm not sure you can call it entertainment. We take turns
educating each other in our various fields. But Mary Jane and Jim
put us all to shame. Between them, they have at least a hundred
creationist films. Some of them, not bad.”
“And you sit and watch them?” Darby was incredulous.
“We watch them and discuss them,” said Brad, smiling. “It's
rarely a passive viewing. If you weren't off on your detective
caper, I'd suggest you come along tonight. I believe the topic of
the DVD is the scientific feasibility of Noah's ark.”
Darby rolled his eyes.
After breakfast, Brad excused himself, saying he had one of
Beth's novels back in his room that he was eager to get started
on.
Darby was left with his empty tray and an even emptier room.
How was he going to get himself to Drumheller tonight?
Inspiration struck.
Leina.
Surely she had a car. He stood up with his tray. The only
problem was he had no idea where she lived and he doubted
she'd be in her office on a Saturday. She said that she liked to
poke around in the laboratory when she wasn't working, so
maybe he should check out some of the labs.
It took a bit of walking, but he finally came upon a laboratory
that wasn't empty. (Even Roger's had been quiet.) The young man
working behind the counter said that he knew which lab Leina
usually worked in and directed him a couple of doors down.
The door was shut, but after a knock and a short wait, Leina
answered.
She was wearing a white lab coat and goggles and looked
surprised to see him, but welcomed him into the room.
Skipping over the preliminaries, he said he'd like to get to
Drumheller that night to keep an eye on Roger.
Leina was alarmed to know that Roger went to Drumheller on
a regular basis and even more alarmed to hear about Sally Ann.
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Chapter Seven ~ The Case of Sally Ann
“That could be how he was found here,” she said. “Of course,
we'll go together,” she said when he asked about a ride.
Leaving her to her work, Darby found he was walking with a
jaunty step. Knowing he had a date with Leina somehow lifted
his spirits.
It was stupid, of course. He was just one of her many
scientists. Correction, he wasn't even a scientist, just a science
historian called in to do a job. One job. He didn't even know if
he had a future here. The fact that she was so obviously talented
in many ways and the fact that she had fished him out of a river
also didn't bode well for any future relationship. But, in the
meantime, she was his for Saturday night.
The rest of the day passed slowly.
He checked out the recreation room and found a man and a
woman playing pool. They didn't seem inclined to include him.
So he returned to his room and flaked out on his bed.
“Counting flowers on the wall, that don't bother me at all . . .” he
hummed.
Lunch was a bit busier than breakfast, but Brad obviously had
enough supplies in his room to miss it, as did Roger. Darby
ended up eating a ham and cheese sandwich and reading the
Edmonton paper.
The afternoon was spent surfing the internet in the library. He
remembered what Brad had said about Craig Kennedy, Scientific
Detective and found a free online novels website with all of
them. After finishing The Silent Bullet, he glanced at his watch and
was glad to see that it was finally time for a quick shower and a
change into the least geeky outfit in his closet.
He returned to Leina's laboratory. The plan was to wait in the
parking lot until Roger headed out to Drumheller and then
discreetly follow him.
Leina had clearly spent the whole day in the laboratory and
had put no effort into her appearance for a Saturday night in
Drumheller. All she did was run fingers through her hair and
remove the white lab coat to reveal a grey sweater and black
jeans.
No matter. She looked great.
She grabbed a black purse off a rack on her way out and
Darby was humiliated to realize he had no money. Everything
that followed would be paid for by Leina. Later he'd have to ask
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Chapter Eight
~
The Case of the Fittest Man
D arby was surprised that Sunday was like any other day.
The dining hall was busy with a full crowd for breakfast.
Brad shrugged it off. Today he was eating muesli, rye
toast and coffee. Darby was going with the full eggs, toast and
bacon, though he figured he'd have to cut back at some point for
the sake of his cholesterol.
“We have scientists from all over the world. In Israel, for
example, Sunday is just the first day of the week. Saturday is the
logical day of rest since it's the last day of the week.”
“Yeah, I guess you're right. It's better than Sunday.” He had
always loathed the Christian influence that had meant that as a
child no stores were open on Sunday and there was nothing else
to do on the day but be dragged to church by his mother. That
had only lasted until he was twelve and could stay home alone by
law.
“It's hard to believe Sunday shopping used to be illegal,” said
Darby.
Brad nodded.
“Some people would say that was anti-Semitism.”
Darby was surprised.
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Death Among the Dinosaurs
“Really?”
Brad nodded again.
“The Hebrew scriptures say that you shall work six days and
rest on the seventh. Closing all the stores on Sunday meant that
Jewish merchants couldn't work on the first day of the week.”
“Good point,” said Darby, wishing that he had thought of that
as a child, so he could accuse his mother, the pastor, his Sunday
school teacher and everyone who attended that hypocritical
church that they were anti-Semites.
“You know,” said Brad, his eyes now twinkling. “The whole
idea of a seven-day week is a creationist idea. It came from the
idea that God created the world in six days and rested on the
seventh.”
Darby rolled his eyes.
“It's crazy that the Christians have had that much influence
over the years.”
“We could follow the example of the ancient Egyptians and
have a ten-day week,” said Brad, yawning at the thought.
Darby filled in Brad about Roger's trips to the Salvation Army.
He was gratified that Brad didn't know that Sally Ann was short
for the Salvation Army.
“We call it the Sally Army in England,” he said. “Sally Ann
must be the Canadian version.”
Much to Darby's annoyance, at that point, Lars joined them.
Darby wanted to ruminate further on the idea of Roger attending
church.
Lars seemed to be bursting with enthusiasm over the
upcoming dig. Brad, the geologist, shared the enthusiasm. After
his brief tour of the area, Darby could understand why anyone
who liked rocks would come to Alberta. The place was loaded
with them. He had, of course, taken a geology class which had
introduced him to the basics – igneous rocks, metamorphic
rocks, sedimentary rocks. It was all essential to understanding
Darwin's journey on the Beagle. Charles Lyell was the leading
geologist of the day and the Beagle's captain was on a mission
from Lyell to search for erratic boulders. Erratic boulders were
rocks that had been moved by glaciers to their location and were
obviously not native to their area. In fact, Alberta had a famous
one, Big Rock. The captain of the Beagle had given Darwin
Lyell's work, Principles of Geology, to read while aboard the ship. It
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prepared himself a tea and sat two rows down from Darby. He
didn't seem interested in Darby.
At least, not at first.
As Darby slowly sipped his coffee and flipped through a two-
day-old Drumheller newspaper, the man started glancing around.
They weren't alone in the dining hall. A lady from the kitchen
was scrubbing down all the tables. Jim and Mary-Jane were
having some kind of conference over coffee, papers and books
spread out all over the place. Probably planning on how to turn
the upcoming expedition into a geological proof of Noah's
flood.
Lars passed through the dining hall, waved at Darby and kept
going. This time the man glanced back at Darby.
“Excuse me,” he said, coming over and sitting across from
Darby. “Mind if I join you?”
Darby just about fell off his seat. The man had a southern
accent.
“Uh, sure,” said Darby.
“Thanks,” said the man. The drawl was unmistakable. And it
made him wonder why Roger didn't have a similar accent. “I'm
new around here,” he continued. “And I'm looking for a former
colleague of mine.”
Darby felt cold all of a sudden.
“Oh yes?” he said casually. “Well, I'm a bit new myself so I
don't know everybody yet.”
“Oh really?” the man said. Up close, he was older than thirty,
maybe forty. “What do you do?”
“Science historian,” he said, knowing how lite that must
sound. “How 'bout you?”
“Cell biologist,” said the man.
Same as Roger!
“Well,” Darby said, deciding to outright lie. “I've met a
geologist, a crazy palaeontologist, a kid who just seems to be a
resident genius, but no cell biologists.”
The man smiled. But it was a snake smile.
“I would have thought with the work going on here that there
would have been an abundance of cell biologists.”
“I'm sure there are,” said Darby, vaguely.
“So what's your take on the origin of life?” asked the man,
watching him. “Intelligent design . . . ?”
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Darby snorted.
“Guess not,” said the man. “I'm told you're free to hold any
idea you want here as long as it's scientifically feasible.”
“I don't know if you can call Intelligent Design scientifically
feasible,” said Darby. But the man didn't seem to care. Darby
realized he wasn't looking for conversation, he was looking for
information, so he decided to turn it around.
“And you?” he said. “What's your stand?”
The man looked him in the eye.
“Survival of the fittest,” he said. The way he said it, it
practically sent a shiver down Darby's spine.
Darby shrugged.
“Well that's a given,” he said. “The weak die out, the strong
are left to reproduce.”
“Do they?” said the man. “Do they really die out? I think it
can be demonstrated that the weak are reproducing at a far
greater rate than the strong. In fact, sometimes the strong even
help them.”
“Yeah, I guess you're right. Socialism and all that.”
“Socialism?” said the man, almost viciously. “I wish it were
just socialism. We proved that that didn't work and it will be a
long time before anybody tries that again on a large scale. No, I'm
talking about plain old charity. How about outright giving food
and clothing and money to the weak? And then the weak go
home and do about the only thing they can for free, mate and
procreate.”
“True,” said Darby, nodding slowly.
“Only the strong should be allowed to procreate.”
Darby nodded again.
Theoretically, the man was absolutely correct, He just didn't
like the way it sounded coming out of his mouth. Out of Leina's
lovely lips it would have sounded like an invitation to combine
their genes and take the human species to its next level.
The thought of Leina anywhere near this man made him
almost physically sick.
Mary-Jane and Jim had packed up their papers and books and
were now returning their empty cups to the tray rack. He
wondered what the snake in front of him would do if he knew
they were both creationists.
The basic tenet of Social Darwinism - survival of the fittest -
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Chapter Nine
~
The Case of the Second Cell Biologist
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Chapter Nine ~ The Case of the Second Cell Biologist
Darby was gratified that Roger the Second shared his disgust
at the presence of creationist journals among the periodicals.
Apart from that, he seemed satisfied that the library was well-
equipped, but he was obviously eager to move on to the
laboratories.
“I'll take you to meet a friend of mine,” said Darby.
“Fascinating guy. From Oxford.”
Roger the Second followed him down the hallway, glancing
into every room they passed. The guy wasn't going to give up.
But the million-dollar question was, what did he plan to do when
he found Roger the First?
They arrived in front of Brad's door. Darby took a deep
breath. It was at moments like this that he wished he could pray
to a higher power for inspiration, but of course, that sort of
thing was for the weak-minded. He could take care of this on his
own.
He pushed open the door and found it . . . empty.
Great! This was even better.
“Hey, Roger,” he said, turning to him. Roger was already
looking around the place, almost sniffing it. Though clearly, from
the posters on the wall, this lab belonged to a geologist, not a
biologist. “Can you just hold on for a sec? This guy is really great
and I want you to meet him.”
Roger nodded and Darby hurried out, supposedly to seek out
the geologist. If Brad came back and found a second Roger
Stewart, cell biologist from Arkansas, he would just have to deal
with it.
As soon as he had rounded the corner of the hallway, Darby
started running. This would be a bit pell-mell but all that
mattered was getting to Roger the First and telling him about the
new arrival.
Roger the First just about dropped a test-tube when Darby
came bursting in.
“Hey man!” said Darby, a little out of breath. “There's a guy
here, just showed up, calls himself Roger Stewart from Arkansas.
Says he's a cell biologist . . .”
Roger the First stared at him. He didn't speak but he didn't
have to. The look of horror was enough.
“Tall guy,” continued Darby. “Absurdly handsome, if you
notice such things. Dark suit. Kind of oily mannerisms . . .”
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Darby was exhausted from taking Roger the Second all around
CREATIOP without taking him near Roger the First's laboratory.
He had even taken him into the cell room and switched the right
buttons for a tour of a simple cell.
Now they were in the dining hall for lunch. Darby could be
pretty confident that Roger the First wouldn't show up. And he
was enormously relieved when Brad did.
Brad joined them with a tray that had a plate of macaroni and
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cheese and a garden salad. He sat down beside Roger the Second
who was only having a cup of coffee for lunch. Not that he
couldn't have had a full meal. No one checked your identification
when you went through the line. Darby himself was too nervous
and too worn out to do anything more than pick at a turkey
sandwich.
“Brad,” said Darby. “I'd like you to meet Roger Stewart, cell
biologist from Arkansas.”
Since Roger the Second was beside him, he didn't see Brad's
eyebrows go up. But he did see Darby's nod, for whatever that
was worth.
“Just arrived today, eh?” said Darby, looking to Roger the
Second for confirmation.
Roger the Second nodded with little enthusiasm.
“I tried to bring him around earlier to meet you,” said Darby.
“But you weren't in your lab.”
Brad nodded, as he put a forkful of macaroni in his mouth
and surreptitiously studied Roger the Second.
“Lars and I were playing around with some experiments in his
lab. Accelerated fossilization.”
Darby rolled his eyes.
“I know. He told me about his knife.”
“So,” said Brad turning to Roger the Second. “You're here to
study cellular biology?”
Roger the Second nodded.
“That is my field, yes. Don't know about studying it here,
though.”
That was enigmatic.
“Origin of life an interest of yours, then?” asked Brad. His
tone was cautious, probing.
“Always has been,” said Roger the Second.
“What I can't understand,” said Darby, making conversation,
“is this whole place being devoted to the origin of life. I know
I'm not a biologist but surely someone has a reasonable
explanation . . . ?”
“Not really,” said Roger the Second, curtly.
“Well, old man,” said Brad. “I think we all wish it were a
settled issue. But we don't have an explanation that satisfies
everyone. Only possibilities.”
“When you say everyone, do you mean the creationists?
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eating.
“What’s that, old man?” asked Brad.
“Destroy their faith,” said Roger the Second. “It's really that
simple. They believe in a falsehood that gives them an
evolutionary advantage. We need to destroy that falsehood.”
“Well, I'm all for bringing people to the truth,” said Darby,
weakly. He hated Christianity as much as Roger the Second did,
but somehow, Roger the Second made it seem kind of diabolical.
“Why should we be in favour of the truth?” said Brad,
recovering sooner than Darby and turning back to his macaroni
and cheese. “The idea of absolute truth is a religious one. If
believing in a God makes people stronger, that's the way to go
for the evolution of man.”
Roger the Second shook his head.
“Religion leads people in the wrong direction. It suggests an
upward ascent of the spirit. Evolution is an upward ascent of the
natural . . .”
But before he could elaborate, they were joined by a fourth
person.
Roger Stewart the First.
He had no tray of food and to Darby, he looked pale, almost
haunted. He sat down beside Darby and across from Roger the
Second.
“Hello, Roger,” he said to the man across from him.
“Hello, Michael,” said Roger the Second.
This was a cause for eyebrows to go up. Darby and Brad
exchanged a look.
The two men, Michael formerly Roger and Roger the Second,
stared at each other. Like earlier in the lab, the man now known
as Michael didn't seem inclined to say anything. It was as if he
had turned his life over to the forces of nature to handle.
Roger the Second, no doubt the real Roger Stewart, smiled, a
cat looking at a mouse kind of smile.
“What exactly did you expect to accomplish?” he asked
Michael.
“Research, real research,” said Michael.
“I really don't care,” said Roger, shrugging. “Take my name.
It's not as if it means anything. Be a cell biologist without a
university degree. Dabble around with life in a test-tube. You'll
never accomplish anything.”
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PART TWO
~
NATURAL SELECTION
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Chapter Ten
~
The Case of the Badlands
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He was beside a large hoodoo. The foot was sticking out. But
the rest of the body was on the other side of the hoodoo. It was
in a state of decay, but enough to still make out some of the
features. Dark hair. White. Male. Darby almost dropped the
camera in his revulsion. From what he could tell, there had been
some birds of prey feasting on the exposed portions.
Darby doubted anyone would actually be able to identify the
man based on the fleshly remains. But he knew for certain who
he was looking down at.
Black shoes, formerly shiny, now dusty. Dark suit. White shirt
and tie.
Roger the Second, cell biologist from Arkansas.
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Chapter Eleven
~
The Case of the Goddess Among the
Hoodoos
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Brad shrugged.
“So?”
“So?” Darby couldn't believe his ears. “It's called murder!”
“Murder is for moralists,” said Brad. “Maybe we should just
call it survival of the fittest and let it go. Roger of Arkansas will
not be breeding with Roger of CREATIOP's sister. Oh well.”
Darby nodded slowly.
That's probably what it was. Mickey flipped at the thought of
his sister being with that slime. Not to mention, Roger of
Arkansas's death would increase the likelihood that Roger of
CREATIOP's true identity would never come out.
“Still, it's murder,” Darby concluded.
Brad seemed unconcerned.
“It's not the kind of murder that need worry us. Our Mickey is
not a homicidal maniac. He used his judgement and decided that
this was the best course of action. Who am I to question it?”
It was a startling conclusion and yet Darby couldn't fault it. As
long as his own life wasn't in danger, why should he initiate an
investigation of the death of some guy he didn't even like?
Especially since it would ruin the career of a man who was slowly
becoming his friend.
“Nonetheless,” said Brad. “It was a bit foolish of Mickey to
dump the body near the location of our summer expedition . . .”
Brad shook his head at this carelessness.
The whole thing was unsettling, but Darby decided Brad was
right. Labelling it murder was a result of the lingering Christian
influence he had grown up with. The death of Roger from
Arkansas made little difference to him.
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the people were singing songs around the campfire. But the
eating area and the campfire were close enough that they could
still hear it all.
Thankfully, Brad didn't mind giving it a miss.
“If I had a hammer,” everyone was singing. “I'd hammer in
the mooorning! I'd hammer in the eeevening! All over this
laaaannd!”
Puh-lease. What was it about campfires that made people not
mind singing goofy songs? Probably the beer.
“Well, old man,” said Brad. “Here you were out among the
hoodoos. And you had the goddess. It had all the ingredients for
a fantasy novel and all you did was stare from afar.”
Darby nodded. The shame of it.
He had used the zoom lens to snap a few photos of her, and
then had quickly deleted them. It was Brad's camera. What was
he going to do? Ask for copies and then hide them under his
mattress? What a loser.
“I know,” he said. “Survival of the fittest. The fittest man
needs to move in, eh?”
Brad smiled.
“More like natural selection,” he said. “You see, right now, you
are in a relatively favourable position.”
“How so?”
“You're young. You're attractive. You have the advantage of
most of us here.”
That was a pleasing thought.
“Dem bones gonna rise again!” everyone was singing.
The palaeontologists must be getting a kick out of that one.
Darby continued to think about what Brad had said.
There were other young scientists. But they were like Mickey.
Totally into their work. The attractive bit surprised him. OK, he
wasn't balding and he wasn't fat. And that put him ahead of a lot
of the older men here. Brad had put a new spin on it for him.
Maybe he was best adapted for this particular environment when
it came to reproductive opportunities.
“Waltzing Matilda! Waltzing Matilda! You’ll come a-waltzing
matilda with me . . .”
None of them around that fire were even Australian.
Waltzing Mathilda was followed by a rousing rendition of When
the Saints Go Marching In. Did any of the scientists really expect
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feel lousy.”
Darby hastily apologized.
“That meal would have given anyone heartburn,” said Darby,
trying to be reassuring. In fact, it had been stew and it hadn't
been bad. Maybe a little spicy though. That was probably what
was bothering Brad. Those Brits didn't like anything more
adventurous than salt and pepper.
“You're young. You wouldn't understand,” mumbled Brad.
“When you get old, you get a mild pain and you feel like you're
about to meet your Maker.”
If Brad wasn't good company tonight, at least Darby had his
plans to concentrate on. Brad was right. The landscape around
here was fantastic for romance. He'd have to persuade Leina to
take a hike with him past some of the more particularly
interesting hoodoos.
Brad would have to help him out a bit there, though. Darby
glanced at his sleeping tent-mate. He looked pale right now, but
when he was back on his feet, he would ask him some questions.
Get enough facts to dazzle Leina a bit.
Trying to be quiet, Darby stripped down and got into his
sleeping bag. It was crazy how older people were susceptible to
religious thinking. Brad had talked about meeting his maker. Why
couldn't he just say “die”?
It was wishful thinking, that's all. Though why anyone would
want to meet God, Darby didn't know. Common sense would tell
you that it probably wouldn't be a happy meeting. Isn't that why
Christians were always trying to get you to accept Jesus as your
saviour?
He turned his mind back to Leina. Drifting off to sleep, he
hoped she would be what he dreamed of that night. But as
dreams usually go, he spent the night thinking of all the things he
didn't want to. Feet wearing black shoes sticking out from behind
hoodoos. Brad stretched out in a coffin, holding a cup of tea. A
shadowy Maker heaping judgement on him for doing some
Sunday shopping.
He was only too glad to wake up.
But as it turned out, waking up didn't bring relief from death.
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Chapter Twelve
~
The Case of Ten Little Indians
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any of these people until this dig and even then, he hadn't done
more than exchange a few polite remarks around the nightly fire.
Although most of the scientists were soberly discussing this
new tragedy, Brad was sitting still and silent. Jim had just
solemnly announced the news. Herberts, one of the men working
under Brad, was dead. Again, no signs of violence. Just didn't
wake up in the morning.
The camp was unsettled. One of the women started babbling
about bad air and toxic fumes. God knows where she thought
they were coming from. Darby had never breathed so much fresh
air in his life than out here.
There was uneasiness in the camp. Nobody had suggested
anything sinister, but there was a feeling that maybe this
expedition was cursed in some way.
Now Brad had his face in his hands.
He was crying. Darby felt rotten. In his terror, he had almost
accused the man of murder. Unlike the rest of the camp, he and
Brad had already been exposed to the idea that a murder had
taken place out here in the badlands.
Brad got up and went to his tent without saying anything.
Darby stared at Brad's mug of tea, now going cold. Herberts was
a middle-aged man, a fellow geologist. It was no wonder Brad
was upset.
This time the police investigation was more thorough.
Everyone was questioned. Alibis were established. Everybody
said they were sleeping and their alibi was their tent-mate, who
was also sleeping, so it wasn't an airtight defence for any of them.
But Herberts' tent-mate had pointed out that he would have
noticed if anyone had come into the tent and murdered the man
beside him. Naturally, that had focused the investigation on him
as being the man who could most likely pull it off, but it was a
half-hearted investigation since there appeared to be no motive.
Just the hint that there might have been foul play was enough
to set everyone's nerves on edge.
Brad spent the first day after Herberts' death in his tent. Then
he decided to return to CREATIOP.
That left only Darby and two other men on the geology team.
Since both of them were actually geneticists, not geologists, this
brought the whole hoodoo study to an end. They were reassigned
to Mary-Jane's team.
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Chapter Thirteen
~
The Case of the Disappearing Scientist
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Chapter Thirteen ~ The Case of the Disappearing Scientist
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Chapter Thirteen ~ The Case of the Disappearing Scientist
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Edmonton?”
“If I have to. Though theoretically, I only have to make it to
Drumheller. It's too populated for her to finish me off there.”
Brad’s sense of humour had returned. Darby could see the
twinkle in his eyes.
“No, I'm going to call a taxi and leave. I'm not going to
announce that I'm going, but we're not prisoners.”
Darby was silent. He felt like a prisoner.
“How about you?” said Brad. “Do you want to come along?”
“I can't,” said Darby. “I don't have a passport. I don't have an
identity. Leina gives me my wages in cash. All I have in the world
is two thousand dollars under my mattress.”
“That won't get you too far,” Brad agreed.
His box was now full and he was heading out of the lab.
Darby followed him to his room. The first thing Brad did was use
his phone to call for a taxi to come to the Dr. James Hector
Research Centre. The second thing he did was pull a suitcase out
of the bottom of his closet and start tossing clothing into it. The
suitcase was slammed shut, leaving a substantial number of
belongings behind.
“Help yourself to whatever you want,” Brad called back over
his shoulder, as he headed for the door.
“Thanks for everything,” said Darby, hardly believing what he
was seeing.
Brad paused and put down the suitcase to come back and
shake Darby's hand.
“All the best, old man,” he said.
And then he was gone.
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Epilogue
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Epilogue
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THE END
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Other novels by Jennifer L Armstrong
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