MICHAEL CRICHTON

1. ReturnTHE MORNING OF JUNE 22 WAS FOGGY AND GRAY. Peter Elliot awoke at6 A.M. to find the camp already up and active. Munro was stalking around theperimeter of the camp, his clothing soaked to the chest by the wet foliage. Hegreeted Elliot with a look of triumph, and pointed to the ground.There, on the ground, were fresh footprints. They were deep and short, rathertriangular-shaped, and there was a wide space between the big toe and the otherfour toes—as wide as the space between a human thumb and fingers.“Definitely not human,” Elliot said, bending to look closely.Munro said nothing.“Some kind of primate.”Munro said nothing.“It can’t be a gorilla,” Elliot finished, straightening. His video communicationsfrom the night before had hardened his belief that gorillas were not involved.Gorillas did not kill other gorillas as Amy’s mother had been killed. “It can’t be agorilla,” he repeated.“It’s a gorilla, all right,” Munro said. “Have a look at this.” He pointed to anotherarea of the soft earth. There were four indentations in a row. “Those are theknuckles, when they walk on their hands.”“But gorillas,” Elliot said, “are shy animals that sleep at night and avoid contactwith men.”“Tell the one that made this print.”“It’s small for a gorilla,” Elliot said. He examined the fence nearby, where theelectrical short had occurred the night before. Bits of gray fur clung to the fence.“And gorillas don’t have gray fur.”“Males do,” Munro said. “Silverbacks.”“Yes, but the silverback coloring is whiter than this. This fur is distinctly gray.”He hesitated. “Maybe it’s a kakundakari.”Munro looked disgusted.183