Page 49 of False Start

“Best receiver in the NFL and adequate stick shift driver.”

“Maybe just stick to ‘adequate navigator’ for now.” I laughed, relieved when the frown fell away from his face, his entire body seeming to lighten. “Now, where are we going?”

SIXTEEN

TRENT

Kit leanedover the steering wheel, eyes narrowed to slits as she peered up into the canopy of pine, the faded sign overheard barely legible. “I don’t think this is right.”

The sun dipped behind the trees, and we were dangerously close to missing the check-in if we didn’t head toward the motel soon.

“I swear, Kit, this is the place.”

The car crawled forward on the dirt road as my eyes scanned the shoulders of the road. Then, I spotted it.

“On the right, Stegosaurus!” I shouted. She stopped the car, her gaze following my pointed finger. “And there’s the sign.”

A generic letter board sign sat underneath the stegosaurus’s back leg, the backlight barely visible and the letters askew.

“The Land Time Forgot.”

Kit’s jaw dropped, a gleeful peal of laughter slipping out that lit up her face as she inched the car forward. “How is this a thing?”

The town looked abandoned. Hell, itwasabandoned. Populated instead by giant fiberglass dinosaurs.

“A paper mill closed, the town emptied out, and someone plunked down dozens of dinosaurs.”

The write-ups on the town had been surprisingly scarce, limited to a handful of local news articles and a handful of blogs. But nothing about the person responsible.

“So they could…” she prompted as she parked the car in front of city hall. Above us, four pterodactyls swarmed the clock tower.

I shrugged. “I’m not sure. No one advertised it, and no one’s taken credit for it. It’s just…here.”

I stepped outside, searching the main street for another team, but the street was empty. As we traveled away from the coast, the night air turned cool, and I opened the trunk, grabbing Kit’s hoodie. I threw it at her as she exited the car. “We don’t have a lot of time to sightsee.”

She sighed, a faint pull of regret crossing her face. “Ten minutes?”

“Twenty if you drive fast.”

She brushed her hand over the body of the Triceratops as she ambled down the street, her eyes floating up at the buildings with a dreamy haze. Reflexively, I checked my watch and then pushed my sleeve over the clock face, trying to match her unhurried stride even as the minutes ticked down to the 10:00 pm check in.

“How do you even decide to do something like this?” she asked.

“I imagine the same way someone decides to repair their dad’s old car and drive it halfway across the country in a rally.”

She turned back, grinning. “Or join a rec league kickball team.”

I raked a hand through my hair. “I think those first two examples took a lot more time and effort than filling out a form.”

“The car didn’t take that long. I mean, how do you even make a full-scale dinosaur?” She tapped the back of an ankylosaurus on the sidewalk with a mailbag hung on its spiky tail.

I slid my phone out of my pocket and took a picture of Kit. The dim glow of the streetlights illuminated her face. Her flyaways and mussed hair from a day careening through the southeast looked almost windswept. I stared at the picture, marking something different about it but unable to place exactly what.

Exhaustion, probably.

I kept it for myself rather than post it on our rapidly-growing rally account.

“Alright, let's find a photo op and get out of here before we miss check-in,” I said, shaking off a heavy feeling in my chest.

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