First you are driving along peacefully in a beautiful rolling countryside with lush dairy farms and untouched woodlands. Then you look out the window, and suddenly you are on a strange planet. For hundreds of miles the baking hot land has been gouged out in huge eroded morrains with impossible, banded spires of raw Earth towering over jagged canyons of glittering mica. You find yourself in an unearthly, savage inferno just two steps off the highway.

"Howdy neighbor... I don't see many people taking a Sunday drive in the Badlands. Where are you headed?... There are a lot of vistas by Devil's Gorge. You get some great colors around sunset... I'm David Blume ... Nice to meet you too... We're working a fossil dig down in a wash about a half mile from here... Not Archeology, I'm a paleontologist. The dinosaurs... Right, only dead stuff... No, I wasn't the advisor on Jurassic Park. That was the other guy.... Hot?... Absolutely. It must be pushing 100º already... I wouldn't take your shirt off if I were you. The sun will fry you to a crisp... Welcome to South Dakota... Well, good luck with the pictures... If you need anything, give me a holler. I'm down at the bottom of the mesa... Take it easy."

Blume gunned the old Willys and bumped along the path to the dig. The university allocated enough funds for a brand new SUV, but the green jalopy had been with him for years, and was comfortably scarred and dented. He never worried about putting a few more scratches in it. Instead, he'd taken a portion of the vehicle funds and purchased a sonic drill from Allied Orthotech out in California. If the unit carved human jawbones, it should work just as well blasting away the limestone around the Deinonychus his team had uncovered.

Most of the fossil had already been hauled to the lab, thanks to weeks of work by a group of student volunteers. All he had left to do, was expose the detail around the tail vertebrae, and undercut a small area of ribcage. Normally, he would have asked the students to help, but he couldn't wait to try out his new toy. He started the inductor unit, and attached the sound cable to the handpiece. After a few minutes of practice, he found the ideal nozzle aperture. Applying steady strokes, the stone blew away from the fossilized bone like chalk. The work went faster than he thought, and In a matter of hours he was able to dig out the segment and encase it in protective plaster.

The last piece on the site was a fragment of lower rib resting on a pedestal of stone. One reddish layer of sediment anchored it to a region of the carnivore's stomach. He thought it unusual to see this coloration within the skeletal silhouette. Was it possible that the animal's last meal was preserved in the gut? If that were true, they would gain a valuable bit of knowledge about the Cretaceous predators.

David had to lie on his back to get at the rib section. He wore tinted safety goggles to keep the rock dust out of his eyes, and a red bandanna over his nose and mouth. The awkward position didn't bother him in the slightest. This summer he was in the best shape of his life. After trudging up and down broiling hills looking for specimens, he'd melted fifteen pounds off his frame, and got back his pre-academia physique. Over the past three months, the sun tanned his hide and burned gold highlights into his hair. He was having the time of his life. As hot and sweaty as he felt, it still beat cataloging specimen cabinets all day in a dank university basement.

Blume heard a crunch as the slab of rock broke free under its own weight. Before moving the section, he swathed it in sheets of plaster-soaked cloth until it was completely covered. After it hardened, he gently rocked the cast over on it's back and did the same to the bottom. He paused to wipe his brow, and take a huge swallow from his canteen. The chunk weighed 250 pounds, minimum. It was now, or never. With a mighty string of curses, he hoisted the heavy mass into the jeep, and closed the tailgate.

Only a single rocky hump remained in the depression where the Deinonychus had been freed from it's 65 million year captivity. Soon the beast would snarl in deadly attack, looming over human prey in the Natural History Museum.

David ground away the layers of sediment with the powerful jet of sound. A shape was beginning to emerge. It looked like the curve of a small bone. He couldn't place the exact species, yet it looked familiar. He feathered the handpiece across the surface, following the smooth brown curvature. A second bone came into view, then a third. Through a haze of rock dust he saw the entire exposed layer. Blume wiped the surface to get a clearer view, gaping at the bared specimen. Ripping off the grimy goggles, he stuck his face right up to the fossil, and ran his trembling fingers over the surface.

"My God, it looks like a hand," Blume said to no one in particular. He sprang to his feet, took off his hat, scratched his head.

"This cannot be, old bean. The sun has done drove you loco. Either I am a complete lunatic, or that is Fred Flintstone."

David heard the strangeness of his own words echoing in the dry wash, and wondered if he was dingy from the heat. He emptied cold water from the canteen over his head, then shook himself off like a wet dog. The last few drops, he poured on the fossil to wash it clean. There was no mistake. It had the classic anatomic structure of a human hand. The bones were curled in a grasping position around that odd, red stained shape he noticed before.

Blume couldn't take his eyes off the specimen. He backed up to the jeep, not letting the hand out of his sight. For all he knew, something this crazy was likely to get up and walk away at any second. Reaching through the window, he fumbled for the Polaroid camera on the front seat. He shot two packs of film of the object, at every conceivable angle, muttering the whole time. If people were going to call him a liar and fraud, or even demented, at least he would have documentation. He hardly believed it himself.

David thought of smashing the fossil with a sledge hammer and throwing the broken pieces into a ravine. If he revealed this to the scientific community, his life would become a circus. No one would ever take him seriously again. The hand would probably wind up inside the spookhouse at the Minnesota State Fair, with him out front with a funny hat selling tickets.

The wheels turning inside his head screeched to a halt as he came to his senses. He was supposed to be a scientist. The artifact should be analyzed in the proper surroundings. Just because David Blume couldn't think of any sane reason for the hand to exist, that didn't mean there wasn't a perfectly logical explanation greater minds than his might conceive of.

As he loaded the fossil into a padded box, Blume constructed a bombastic theory: Maybe one of the original 19th century fossil collectors found this very same Deinonychus, somehow lost his hand, which then became buried by an avalanche. That was total crap, and he knew it.

There was one person who might offer a valid opinion on the discovery . As hard as it was for David to admit, Doctor John Stevens, his supervisor, was a brilliant author, famed researcher, and encyclopedic historian. Stevens ran the department, managing to be seldom seen outside his secluded office. Rarely socializing, some faculty members had never met Stevens, and wouldn't recognize the Doctor if they bumped into him on the street. In limited public appearances at executive functions, he spoke in a grating, superior manner that always set David's teeth on edge. He respected Stevens' obvious intellect, but couldn't bring himself to like the man, no matter how he tried. All during the long drive back to his apartment in Rapid City, he practiced different ways to explain the incredible find to his boss without sounding like a madman.

"Doctor Stevens, this is David Blume from the paleontology department. I hope I'm not disturbing you this late on a Sunday."

"I was rather busy, Blume. Can't this wait for school hours?"

There it was again, that snide undertone to his voice that made David want to scream.

"Something very odd happened out at the Badlands dig. I was collecting part of a Dienonychus specimen, when I found a strange object in the Cretaceous strata. I can't believe it myself. It's so fantastic I nearly ..."

"Calm down and get to the point, Blume. You sound rather agitated. What was it you found at the dig?"

David planned on slowly leading up to the punchline, but it didn't seem to be going well.

"I found a human hand Doctor Stevens, in sixty five million year old limestone deposits. From what I can tell, the bones appear correct. I can't explain it, but I'd stake my reputation they're human."

Blume took a deep breath and waited for a verbal explosion to come over the phone. There was nothing but eerie silence.

"Did you tell anyone else about this Blume?"

"No, Doctor Stevens. I called you as soon as I got in."

David was surprised at Stevens' overly calm attitude. If someone just told him the same story, he'd show plenty of genuine emotion, one way or another. The Doctor droned on in a nasal monotone.

"I don't want the University involved in cheap theatrics. For your own sake, keep this matter to yourself. We will discuss this so called 'hand' the first thing Monday morning at my house. Be here at seven sharp, before Ms. Burrows arrives. Do you have the object in your possession?"

"Yes I do. It's sitting on my kitchen table. I was just examining it for..."

"Bring it with you Doctor Blume. I want to get a good look at this miracle specimen of yours. Remember, be at my home at seven O'clock, and tell no one. Is that clear Doctor Blume?

"Yes sir. I assure you, Doctor Stevens, this is not a fake. I dug it out of the strata with my own hands. Once you examine it you'll see for yourself. The object may have been located in the dinosaur's stomach contents. I know it doesn't seem possible, but it exists. Of course, I could be the victim of a hoax of some sort. I don't know anything anymore. Can you think of any reasonable explanations yourself, Doctor

Stevens?...Doctor?... Hello?

No answer. Stevens hung up right after David said, "I assure you."

Blume was parked in front of Doctor Stevens' house ten minutes early. His eyes were red from staying up all night with the hand. Doctor Stevens' humble cottage was a sprawling colonial mansion in the exclusive Maywood Estates. David had to give credit where it was due. Rather than inherit money from a rich family, Stevens made his considerable fortune in the stock market, starting, as he always claimed, from a one hundred dollar investment. At precisely seven o'clock, Blume hugged the specimen case under one arm and headed up the walk. After ringing the bell, he was greeted by Stevens; a small man, around 50 years old, with a pale complexion, and a high balding forehead. He was dressed plainly for a millionaire, in an old sport coat and baggy work pants. His only concession to style was a gem studded pendant, worn on a chain around his neck.

"Come in Doctor Blume. I'm glad to see you are punctual. Please have a seat."

David sat down in a plush wingbacked chair that looked as if it came straight out of the Versailles Palace. Lining the walls of the grandly appointed living room, a series of inlaid cases held a collection of antique curios of every description. In one display, an intricate brass astrolabe rested in a niche. Below it, a glass shelf was crowded with gold enameled snuffboxes. The gleam of opulence struck him everywhere he looked. He knew Stevens was rich, but he had no idea. The objects d'art in the room were priceless.

"I apologize for getting you over here so early. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Yes I would. Thank you Doctor Stevens. I didn't get much sleep."

Stevens walked across the room to an ornate tea table, and began preparing the coffee. David was surprised. Why is he being so hospitable? On the phone last night he sounded ready to tear my head off. While waiting for the coffee he stood up to examine a beautiful nautilus cup on the mantelpiece. The iridescent shell was mounted with bright silver, deeply embossed with hunting scenes. Something seemed wrong about the object. He was no antiques expert, but the it looked too new, like it was made yesterday. There was no patina, not a trace of wear. Stevens returned with two steaming cups and took a chair beside him.

"Here you are Doctor Blume. I hope you like cream and sugar."

"Yes that's fine. Thank you very much."

Despite the heavy lacing of sugar, the coffee tasted bitter. He was relieved that at least Stevens wasn't gifted at everything. All the brains and money in the world and he can't make a decent cup of coffee.

"Is that the specimen you mentioned over the phone last night? I'd like to see it, if I may."

"Certainly, Doctor Stevens. It's remarkable, I think you'll agree."

David snapped open the case and lifted out the skeleton hand. Stevens took a magnifying glass out of his pocket, and peered through it, nodding his head at the fossil as if it were nothing special. He put the lens away, and laid a hand on David's knee.

"First, I will agree that the fossil is quite genuine. You are neither a liar or crackpot. I hope that puts your mind at ease. In any case, I have a simple explanation for all of this. These are the bones of a time traveler."

David almost did a spit take with the hot coffee. A simple explanation? He leaned in closer, not daring to interrupt. David had been wracking his brain all night trying to come up with something a little more plausible. This better be good Stevens.

"Evidently, in the distant past, a time wanderer suffered a terrible accident ."

Blume couldn't believe what he was hearing. Stevens was a respected leader at an accredited university. He always knew there was something slightly akimbo with the Doctor. Now, he was talking about time travel in the same light as a trip to the corner deli. It might be wise to humor the man.

"I really don't think time travel is possible Doctor Stevens. If time travelers are constantly popping in and out of our history, why hasn't humanity always known about them ever since we came out the caves? Assuming what you say is true, then where are they? Where are all the time travelers?"

"You're looking at one Doctor Blume."

David fidgeted in his seat, trying to keep a straight face. Stevens continued speaking, calmly drinking his coffee without a care in the world.

"Actually, my name is Darak-17, not John Stevens. I arrived in your time period three decades ago. Since then, life here has been very pleasant. In my own time, I had the misfortune of killing a man. Several, to be exact. Having no other choice, I escaped to this era and hoped none of my peers would find me. Unfortunately, Doctor Blume, your discovery threatens my security."

David didn't like the sound of that. At first, the wild talk seemed harmless enough. Now it was dangerous. He tried to rise out of his chair and leave this crazyman's house, but his legs wouldn't respond. The respected Doctor put something into the coffee. As he listened to Stevens talk, the words began to sound slurred. He shook his head to clear away double vision.

"I can't allow you to draw unnecessary attention to myself or the University. No one must know about the hand"

Stevens opened a small drawer and pulled out the biggest 45 automatic David ever saw. He stood up and leveled the pistol at David's head. From where he sat, the muzzle looked like a manhole. He'd fired a 45, years ago at the police range, and remembered the kick, and the smell of powder. Desperately, he tried to quell the image of those fat copper slugs tearing into him. Stevens' outline began to ripple.

"As a man of science, I'm sure you will appreciate what I am about to show you."

Not moving the gun a fraction, Stevens reached up to the pendant at his throat, and pressed the multicolored stones in a coded sequence. David winced as a sub-audible tone knifed through his skull. Something moving in the air made him look up. A silver rectangle of force shimmered in the middle of the room like a lace curtain.

"This time device is keyed to my personal genetic index. With it, I can open a portal to any time or place. In my former profession it often paid to have an insurance policy. Don't look so shocked Doctor Blume. I can tell you're disappointed in me. I'm sorry I'm not the person you expected."

Blume tried to speak, but his tongue felt like a foreign object. Stevens motioned towards the time portal with the gun, saying something David could not understand.

"Please step inoo the ortal octor lume. I'm afrai oo must issapear.

David snapped out of his fog enough to realize what Stevens said. He hadn't had a fight since the seventh grade, but he'd be damned if he let that little criminal make him step merrily into oblivion. Again, he attempted to rise through the drug induced torpor. This time, he felt Stevens' hand holding his arm, pulling him to his feet.

In the second it took to stand, David flashed back to the wonderful summer he spent out in the field. The students were a great bunch of kids, bright and eager to learn. This is not real. Things like this never happen to me. David was struck by the injustice of it. Injustice made him angry.

He lurched at the smaller man, grabbing the gun with one hand, and his throat in the other. Caught off guard, Stevens struggled for the 45, veins bulging in his temples, his eyes a feral mask. David fought back in a slow motion dance that seemed far removed, as if someone else were controlling his body. Stevens jerked at the weapon, kicking at his legs, biting at his wrist, but David would not loosen his grip on the gun. In a dream, he throttled the man's neck, all the while hearing furniture crashing, and glass breaking in the background.

In the last stages of his panic, Stevens managed to squeeze the trigger. The blast broke Blume's eardrum, and creased a bloody nick in his cheek. Blinded by the flash, he threw the flailing Stevens backward. With a look of sheer horror, the Doctor fell into the portal and vanished down to a pinpoint. A second later, the portal dissipated into an amorphous mist. Blume pawed at the empty air where Stevens had been an instant ago. There was nothing left but a tingling static charge, and that too was gone after a moment.

David looked down at his right fist. Clutched in his fingers was the time pendant. The colorful gems were losing their brilliance. As he watched, the jewels faded to a mottled gray, and began flaking away at the edges. The metal backing grew hot in his hand and he dropped it on the floor. A tiny pall of acrid smoke trickled up from the device, infusing a noxious tang into the room.

Cutting through the lingering confusion in his mind, one fact stood out above all others: I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE! David picked up the fossil hand and replaced it in the case. On wobbly legs, he staggered out the door and slammed it behind him. His watch showed half past seven. If he hurried home, patched up his face, and had something to eat, he could still get to school in time to teach his two classes. After that, it was clear sailing for the rest of the day.

Blume made it through his teaching assignment, despite the fact that he had been drugged and shot at only hours before. His ears still rang from the 45's concussion, and his cheek throbbed with a life all its own. That was nothing compared to being disposed of into a time portal. Where in God's name was Stevens? Blume had no idea. Whatever epoch Stevens vanished into, he was stuck forever. The portal device was a useless blob. He had a nightmare that evening. In it he saw the Doctor spiraling down an endless chute, screaming "Blume...Blume..." over and over again in that peculiar lisping voice.

The Rapid City papers carried the headlines of Doctor Stevens' mysterious disappearance. Arriving at 8 o'clock , the housekeeper discovered a shambles in the living room, and found absolutely no trace of her employer. The police conducted a massive investigation. Not a single clue to his whereabouts ever turned up. With no family members to pursue the matter, the case fell into neglect after several months and was forgotten.

Blume thought about it constantly. He could not erase the haunting memory of Stevens, with that frightened animal look in his eyes, as he dwindled into nothingness. There was something else troubling him. The hand was waiting for him down the basement, where he'd left it six months ago. In all that time he hadn't dared look at it. Considering everything that happened, he never got the chance to give it a complete examination. That discolored lump at the base of the fossil nagged at him. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore. He had to find out what it was.

David brought the hand to school with him. After classes let out, he carried it over to the radiology lab and took a lateral exposure of the reddish slab. When the film emerged from the developer, he wedged it up against the light box. Without a word, he turned away from the x-ray, and began to rummage around in a large bin of tools. David was searching frantically for a sledge hammer to smash the hand into a million pieces. Behind him, glowing in the fluorescent light, the x-ray image showed the distinct outline of a 45 automatic.