My Life with Death

Hoover's University of Paleontology, LV, Nevada

Department of Paleontology and Paleobotany, April 8, 2008, 7:15 a.m.

 There was a loud ringing. I was startled, flinched, and dropped the phone in my hand, which made a shocking sound that woke me up from my sleep on the ground.

"Damn it," I cursed.

With my eyes still taped, I started looking for glasses with my hand. I reached towards the glass coffee table and picked up my glasses. Then I started looking for the phone on the ground with my hand. It took me a while before I could hold it in my hand and answer the call.

"Dr. Stepman," she said sleepily. "Doctor, we have a find in Yellowstone—tyrannosaurus and something else. You have to see it. Join the video conference," said the woman on the phone.

I sat down on the couch where I spent another of many nights and threw the blanket aside. I turned on the laptop lying on the table's edge. I clicked to join the video call. I immediately saw in the camera what my assistant meant by something else.

At the same site where they excavated the skeleton of a Cretaceous carnivore, they also found a human body in early decomposition. The grave was very shallow, not even a meter. The ground was damp and full of insects. It was lucky that the body was found in time. A few days in these conditions—ideal for insects and fungi—would completely decompose.

"Wow," I wondered. I still wasn't fully awake, but this. I didn't expect this. I didn't even need my morning coffee after this.

"What should we do, doctor?"

"Take pictures of everything. Tell Dr. Hawkens to collect as many insect and soil samples as possible. When you are done, wrap the body carefully and bring it here. Dr. Morris will look at him," I said.

I cleared my throat and turned my back. "Christine," I called through the open door into the hallway. I turned back.

"We'll be waiting for you here... Above all, don't damage anything," I emphasized. "You must not contaminate the crime scene," I repeated. "Yes, Doctor," she said, surprised by my assumption that this was a crime scene. I ended the call.

I stood up, pulled on the white coat – with my name on it – that I had draped over the chair at the table, and pulled my hair into a ponytail with a rubber band.

The table is strewn with samples and notebooks with my notes and framed photographs on each edge. On the right was one of me with Christine, Charlie, and Sam from the Pacific Ridge hike, and on the other, I and my mom and sister when we were little. On the left was a small photo from the stay and excavations in Africa. It was four years ago. There, I met members of a tribe living near Nairobi. They cared for cubs and animals injured by poachers. A few days before my arrival, a lion cub was born. Boy. Mwana wa jua means son of the sun in Swahili. You liked me a lot. He became emotionally attached to me. He didn't move a step away from me. It was hard to say goodbye to him and leave Africa at all. I lived and worked there for almost a year because I fell in love with the sun-drenched landscape and felt more at home there.

I quickly ran out of the office.

Christine ran towards me. "Did you call me? What's going on?" she asked.

"I'll tell you on the way," I said. We went to the leading lab together.

"Did you sleep here again?" she asked me curiously.

"Yes," I answered calmly. "They will bring us bones from Yellowstone tonight. I'll take care of you, but I need your help. They also bring human remains. I need you to look at them," I informed her.