Dragons Teeth Crichton 2017 (WWT)

Morning in Cheyenne
Johnson awoke at eight, refreshed and excited. He looked out his window at the flat expanse of
Cheyenne, boxy buildings stretching across the plains. By all accounts it was a dreary sight, but
Johnson found it beautiful. And the day was lovely, clear and warm, with the fluffy high clouds
peculiar to the West.
It was true that he would not see the beautiful Lucienne for many weeks until his return trip, but this
fact added a delicious poignancy to his mood, and he was in excellent humor when he went
downstairs to the dining room, where the Marsh party had been instructed to meet for breakfast, at
nine.
No one was there.
A table had been set for a large group, but the dirty plates were being collected by a waiter.
“Where is everybody?” Johnson asked.
“Who do you mean?”
“Professor Marsh and his students.”
“They’re not here,” the waiter said.
“Where are they?”
“Gone an hour or more.”
The words sank in slowly. “The professor and the students are gone?”
“They went to catch the nine o’clock train.”
“What nine o’clock train?”
The waiter looked at Johnson irritably. “I have a lot to do,” he said, turning away, rattling the
plates.
Their bags and expedition equipment had been stored in a large room on the ground floor of the hotel,
behind the reception desk. The bellboy unlocked the door: the room was empty except for the crates
containing Johnson’s photographic equipment.
“They’re gone!”
“Something of yours missing?” the bellboy said.
“No, not mine. But everyone else is gone.”
“I just came on duty,” the bell captain said apologetically. He was a boy of sixteen. “Perhaps you
should ask at the desk.”