Viv tried to shimmy up the cold trunk of the tree, but it just grew straight, no handholds. Just as well: she’d seen dinosaurs use their talons to scale trees like they were ladders. Up was not safer than down.

  She slid back down into the dead leaves and looked around, listening really hard. She fished out her pepper spray.

  No dino in sight. Phew. No humans in sight, either. Also phew.

  The light around her was gradually increasing. It would warm the air. In a couple hours.

  Hey, she had a hood! Viv put the blue hood up. Her head got immediately warmer. Which was great. But at the expense of her hearing dropped and peripheral vision. She soaked up a few seconds of warmth and reluctantly put the hood back down.

  The dog crate rolled back an inch when a gust of wind came through. Was that a bite? Probably not. But what was she going to do, not check?

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  She crept toward it gingerly. She didn’t see anything through the crate’s windows in the upper half.

  It moved again, this time with no wind. There was definitely an animal inside.

  Viv got closer, still not seeing anything inside. She prepared to swing the door closed and lock it if there was anything here. She crept closer.

  A rat was inside, eating the chicken. Gross.

  “Shoo!” Viv whispered, even though no one was around. “Shoo!” She stood to the side of the crate and shook it, so the escaping rat would get nowhere near her feet.

  The rat didn’t get the email. It was sitting inside the plastic tray of the chicken, getting a steam bath of people food. Probably the greatest day in this rat’s life.

  “That’s not for you,” she said, shaking it again. The rat was staying put, declaring squatters’ rights.

  Viv tilted the back of the crate a tiny bit. Not enough for the chicken to slide down toward the door, but enough for the door to swing out and bang on the asphalt. The rat didn’t move.

  OK, this rat couldn’t eat the ENTIRE chicken. The chicken was five times its size. It would eat its fill, and track chicken juice out. Ooh, and maybe a hungry dino could follow the tracks back. Maybe this was a good plan after all.

  Or maybe there’d just be more rats.

  She was wondering exactly how many rats were in Central Park when she heard the clak of a talon on bedrock.