Read the story to the end. Can you foresee the coming end of the story ? What will it be, in your opinion ?

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The jungle was wide and full of twitterings, rustlings, murmurs, and sighs.

Suddenly it all ceased, as if someone had shut a door.


A sound of thunder.

Out of the mist, one hundred yards away, came Tyrannosaurus rex.

Jesus God, whispered Eckels.


It came on great oiled, resilient, striding legs. It towered thirty feet above half of the trees, a great evil god, folding its delicate watchmakers claws close to its oily reptilian chest. Each lower leg was a piston, a thousand pounds of white bone, sunk in thick ropes of muscle, sheathed over in a gleam of pebbled skin like the mail of a terrible warrior. Each thigh was a ton of meat, ivory, and steel mesh. And from the great breathing cage of the upper body those two delicate arms dangled out front, arms with hands which might pick up and examine men like toys, while the snake neck coiled. And the head itself, a ton of sculptured stone, lifted easily upon the sky. Its mouth gaped, exposing a fence of teeth like daggers. Its eyes rolled, ostrich eggs, empty of all expression save hunger. It closed its mouth in a death grin. It ran, its pelvic bones crushing aside trees and bushes, its taloned feet clawing damp earth, leaving prints six inches deep wherever it settled its weight. It ran with
a gliding ballet step, far too poised and balanced for its ten tons. It moved into a sunlit arena warily, its beautifully reptile hands feeling the air.

My God! Eckels twiched his mouth. It could reach up and grab the moon.

Sh! Travis jerked angrily. He hasnt seen us yet.

It cant be killed. Eckels pronounced this verdict quietly, as if there could be no argument. He had weighed the evidence and this was his considered opinion. The rifle in his hands seemed a cap gun. We were fools to come. This is impossible.

Shut up! hissed Travis.


Turn around, commanded Travis. Walk quietly to the Machine. Well remit one-half your fee. I didnt realize it would be this big, said Eckels. I miscalculated, thats all. And now I want out.

It sees us!

Theres the red paint on its chest!

The Thunder Lizard raised itself. Its armored flesh glittered like a thousand green coins. The coins, crusted with slime, steamed. In the slime, tiny insects wriggled, so that the entire body seemed to twitch and undulate, even while the monster itself did not move. It exhaled. The stink of raw flesh blew down the wilderness.

Get me out of here, said Eckels. It was never like this before.
I was always sure Id come through alive. I had good guides, good safaris, and safety. This time, I figured wrong. Ive met my match and admit it. This is too much for me to get hold of.

Dont run, said Lesperance. Turn around. Hide in the Machine.

Yes, Eckels seemed to be numb. He looked at his feet as if trying to make them move. He gave a grunt of helplessness.


He took a few steps, blinking, shuffling.

Not that way!

The Monster, at the first motion, lunged forward with a terrible scream. It covered one hundred yards in four seconds. The rifles jerked up and blazed fire. A windstorm from the beasts mouth engulfed them in the stench of slime and old blood. The Monster roared, teeth glittering with sun.

Eckels, not looking back, walked blindly to the edge of the Path, his gun limp in his arms, stepped off the Path, and walked, not knowing it, in the jungle. His feet sank into green moss. His legs moved him, and he felt alone and remote from the events behind.

The rifles cracked again. Their sound was lost in shriek and lizard thunder. The great lever of the reptiles tail swung up, lashed sideways. Trees exploded in clouds of leaf and branch. The Monster twitched its jewelers hands down to fondle at the men, to twist them in half, to crush them like berries, to cram them into its teeth and its screaming throat. Its boulder-stone eyes leveled with the men. They saw themselves mirrored. They fired at the metallic eyelids and the blazing black iris.

Like a stone idol, like a mountain avalanche, Tyrannosaurus fell. Thundering, it clutched trees, pulled them with it. It wrenched and tore the metal Path. The men flung themselves back and away. The body hit, ten tons of cold flesh and stone. The guns fired. The Monster lashed its armored tail, twitched its snake jaws, and lay still. A fount of blood spurted from its throat. Somewhere inside, a sac of fluids burst. Sickening gushes drenched the hunters. They stood, red and glistening.

The thunder faded.

The jungle was silent. After the avalanche, a green peace. After the nightmare, morning.

Billings and Kramer sat on the pathway and threw up. Travis and Lesperance stood with smoking rifles, cursing steadily.

In the Time Machine, on his face, Eckels lay shivering. He had found his way back to the Path, climbed into the Machine.

Travis came walking, glanced at Eckels, took cotton gauze from
a metal box, and returned to the others, who were sitting on the Path.

Clean up.

They wiped the blood from their helmets. They began to curse too. The Monster lay, a hill of solid flesh. Within, you could hear the sighs and murmurs as the furthest chambers of it died, the organs malfunctioning, liquids running a final instant from pocket to sac to spleen, everything shutting off, closing up forever. It was like standing by a wrecked locomotive or a steam shovel at quitting time, all valves being released or levered tight. Bones cracked; the tonnage of its own flesh, off balance, dead weight, snapped the delicate forearms, caught underneath. The meat settled, quivering.

Another cracking sound. Overhead, a gigantic tree branch broke from its heavy mooring fell. It crashed upon the dead beast with finality.

There. Lesperance checked his watch. Right on time. Thats the giant tree that was scheduled to fall and kill this animal originally. He glanced at the two hunters. You want the trophy picture? What?

We cant take a trophy back to the Future. The body has to stay right here where it would have died originally, so the insects, birds, and bacteria can get at it, as they were intended to. Everything in balance. The body stays. But we can take a picture of you standing near it.

The two men tried to think, but gave up, shaking their heads.

They let themselves be led along the metal Path. They sank wearily into the Machine cushions. They gazed back at the ruined Monster, the stagnating mound, where already strange reptilian birds and golden insects were busy at the steaming armor.

A sound on the floor of the Time Machine stiffened them. Eckels sat there, shivering.

Im sorry, he said at last.

Get up! cried Travis.

Eckels got up.

Go out on that Path alone, said Travis. He had his rifle pointed. Youre not coming back in the Machine. Were leaving you here!

Lesperance seized Travis arm. Wait

Stay out of this! Travis shook his hand away. This son of a bitch nearly killed us. But it isnt that so much. Hell, no. Its his shoes! Look at them! He ran off the Path. My God, that ruins us! Christ knows how much well forfeit. Tens of thousands of dollars of insurance! We guarantee no one leaves the Path. He left it. Oh, the damn fool! Ill have to report to the government. They might revoke our license to travel. God knows what hes done to Time, to History!

Take it easy, all he did was kick up some dirt.

How do we know? cried Travis. We dont know anything! Its all a damn mystery! Get out there, Eckels!

Eckels fumbled his shirt. Ill pay anything. A hundred thousand dollars!

Travis glared at Eckels checkbook and spat. Go out there. The Monsters next to the Path. Stick your arms up to your elbows in his mouth. Then you can come back with us.

Thats unreasonable!

The Monsters dead, you yellow bastard. The bullets!

The bullets cant be left behind. They dont belong in the Past; they might change something. Heres my knife. Dig them out!

The jungle was alive again, full of the old tremorings and bird cries. Eckels turned slowly to regard the primeval garbage dump, that hill of nightmares and terror. After a long time, like a sleepwalker, he shuffled out along the Path.

He returned, shuddering, five minutes later, his arms soaked and red to the elbows. He held out his hands. Each held a number of steel bullets. Then he fell. He lay where he fell, not moving.

You didnt have to make him do that, said Lesperance.

Didnt I? Its too early to tell. Travis nudged the still body. Hell live. Next time he wont go hunting game like this. Okay. He jerked his thumb wearily at Lesperance. Switch on. Lets go home.

1492. 1776. 1812.

They cleaned their hands and faces. They changed their caking shirts and pants. Eckels was up and around again, not speaking. Travis glared at him for a full ten minutes.

Dont look at me, cried Eckels. I havent done anything.

Who can tell?

Just ran off the Path, thats all, a little mud on my shoes-what do you want me to do-get down and pray?

We might need it. Im warning you, Eckels, I might kill you yet. Ive got my gun ready.

Im innocent. Ive done nothing!

1999. 2000. 2055.

The Machine stopped.

Get out, said Travis.

The room was there as they had left it. But not the same as they had left it. The same man sat behind the same desk. But the same man did not quite sit behind the same desk.

Travis looked around swiftly. Everything okay here?" he snapped.

Fine. Welcome home!

Travis did not relax. He seemed to be looking at the very atoms of the air itself, at the way the sun poured through the one high window.

Okay, Eckels, get out. Dont ever come back.

Eckels could not move.

You heard me, said Travis. Whatre you staring at?

Eckels stood smelling of the air, and there was a thing to the air,
a chemical taint so subtle, so slight, that only a taint cry of his subliminal senses warned him it was there. The colors, white, gray, blue, orange, in the wall, in the furniture, in the sky beyond the window, were... were... And there was a feel. His flesh twitched. His hands twitched. He stood drinking the oddness with the pores of his body. Somewhere, someone must have been screaming one of those whistles that only a dog can hear. His body screamed silence in return. Beyond this room, beyond this wall, beyond this man who was not quite the same man seated at this desk that was not quite the same desk... What sort of world it was now, there was no telling. He could feel them moving there, beyond the walls, almost, like so many chess pieces blown in a dry wind...

But the immediate thing was the sign painted on the office wall, the same sign he had read earlier today on first entering.

Somehow, the sign had changed:






Eckels felt himself fall into a chair. He fumbled crazily at the thick slime on his boots. He held up a clod of dirt, trembling. No, it cant be. Not a little thing like that. No!

Embedded in the mud, glistening green and gold and black, was
a butterfly, very beautiful, and very dead.

Not a little thing like that! Not a butterfly! cried Eckels.

It fell to the floor, an exquisite thing, a small thing that could upset balances and knock down a line of small dominoes, and then big dominoes and then gigantic dominoes, all down the years across Time. Eckels mind whirled. It couldnt change things. Killing one butterfly couldnt be that important! Could it?

His face was cold. His mouth trembled, asking: Who-who won the presidential election yesterday?

The man behind the desk laughed. You joking? You know damn well. Deutscher, of course! Who else? Not that damn weakling Keith. We got an iron man now, a man with guts, by God! The official stopped. Whats wrong?

Eckels moaned. He dropped to his knees. He scrabbled at the golden butterfly with shaking fingers. Cant we, he pleaded to the world, to himself, to the officials, to the Machine, cant we take it back, cant we make it alive again? Cant we start over? Cant we

He did not move. Eyes shut, he waited, shivering. He heard Travis breathe loud in the room; he heard Travis shift his rifle, click the safety catch, and raise the weapon. There was a sound of thunder.



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