by David Lewman
They cautiously approached the partially eaten carcass of a dinosaur. Some carnivore had been feeding there. Recently.
Wheatley gestured toward Owen’s tablet with its tracking signal. “Kind of takes the sport out of it.”
Owen looked at him. “This isn’t my idea of sport.”
Behind them, in the dark jungle foliage, something was moving….
“Animal tracking is the oldest sport,” Wheatley insisted. “It’s in our DNA. Aiming. Running. Team sports. Pretty much anything anyone likes to do outdoors goes back to our instinct to hunt.”
Zia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You know we’re not hunting this animal, right?”
“Hunting, tracking.” Wheatley shrugged. “It’s all the same.”
Owen spotted something in the mud. Raptor tracks. He checked his tablet. Blue’s beacon was close. He put the tablet in Zia’s backpack. “I’m going on alone.”
“Whatever you say,” Wheatley said. He’d lost two men to Blue, and he didn’t want to be the third.
In the last century, we amassed landmark technological power, and we’ve consistently proven ourselves incapable of handling that power.
—Dr. Ian Malcolm
Back in the bunker, Franklin tapped a dead light bulb with his finger. It flickered on. “Fixed it,” he announced proudly. It then promptly shorted out and shattered.
“Stop fixing things,” Claire ordered. She checked her watch, impatient for Owen’s and Zia’s return. Franklin collapsed into the rolling chair beside her.
But a beep from his tablet made him sit up. Owen’s beacon on the screen had moved close enough to Blue’s signal to trigger a warning.
“He’s close,” Claire said.
* * *
In the deep jungle, Owen pushed his way through thick brush beneath a dense canopy. It was hot. Insects buzzed. The air was still. Though the sun was shining, the leaves overhead plunged the jungle into shadow.
Owen heard water running over rocks. He pressed forward and found a small creek. After following the stream for a few steps, he came upon a narrow path leading away from the water. Animals must have followed the track to the creek to drink.
He knelt down, checking the path for Raptor tracks. Then he cocked his head.
Owen could feel a pair of eyes watching him….
Standing up slowly, he peered into the jungle, listening carefully. In the dark greenery, something moved. Leaves rustled.
Pretending not to notice, Owen walked farther along the path. At the base of a steep rocky ridge, he came upon a gnarled tree. Under the tree, he found the rusting remains of an old Jurassic Park vehicle, covered in twisting vines. Around the SUV were the gnawed bones of small animals.
Something had been living here. Something that hunted.
There was another movement in the undergrowth. “There you are,” Owen said softly. It had to be Blue.
Owen was nervous. He didn’t know whether Blue would remember him. Will she attack? he thought. It’s been three years….
With his hands open and stretched forward, he slowly approached the bushes where he’d heard movement. She had to be close….
WHOOSH! A few Compys ran out of the bushes and scampered away. Each Compsognathus was about the size of a chicken. Owen exhaled and watched them go quickly.
BAM! Behind him, Blue jumped down from the trees onto the wrecked vehicle! Owen spun around to face her.
“Hey, Blue,” he said gently. “You miss me?”
The Raptor hissed and snapped, baring her sharp teeth. If she’d missed him, she didn’t seem to be showing it now.
Owen raised his hand and clicked the clicker he had used when training Blue and her siblings. He was signaling that he was the alpha male, the guy in charge. Not someone to be hissed and snapped at.
Blue stared at Owen. Then she gave a low growl.
“Hey!” he said sharply. She stopped growling. “Easy.” Owen tried to calm her down. Keeping his eyes on Blue and one hand stretched forward, he reached with his other hand into his bag. “I brought you something.”
He held a dead rat up by its tail where Blue could easily see and smell it. “Dead rat. Your favorite.” He moved his hand just a little closer, offering her the treat.
But Blue didn’t go for it. She seemed suspicious. She snapped her teeth again, keeping her distance. Owen was concerned. This might not work, he thought. If she doesn’t take this rat, what am I going to do?
“Come on, Blue,” he urged. “You know me. Take the rat. I swear there’s nothing wrong with it.”
Blue tilted her head, as though she were considering Owen’s words. She sniffed the air. But she was still uncertain. She gave another low growl.
“Eyes on me,” Owen commanded. “Right here.” Blue looked him right in the eye. “That’s it. Good.”
Blue stood stock-still for a moment. Then, slowly, she took one small step forward with her right foot. She held that pose for a second. Then she took a small step with her left foot.
Owen held the rat up a little higher. “Come on,” he said. “You’re okay.”
Blue eyed her old trainer warily. She gave one more low, soft growl deep in her throat.
Owen raised his other hand a little, as if to say, “Hey, none of that, now.”
Finally, the Raptor came down off the SUV and closed the distance between her and Owen. She was inches away from him. He’d won her trust back.
“Good girl,” he said, drawing out the words.
Blue moved her head toward the dead rat dangling by its tail from Owen’s fingers. He was about to drop it into her open mouth when—
THHHUKKK! A tranquilizer dart slammed into Blue’s flank! She shrieked and bared her teeth!
We’ve taken things too far.
—Dr. Ian Malcolm
“Hey!” Owen yelled. “I said to wait for my signal!”
Wheatley and his trackers emerged from the bushes, their weapons raised and aimed at Blue. It was Wheatley who had shot her with the tranquilizer, unwilling to wait. He had no intention of letting the Raptor get away.
Blue staggered slightly but didn’t fall down. She was woozy, but a single dart wasn’t enough to knock her out.
“Wheatley, back off!” Owen shouted, furious that his careful approach to Blue had been ruined. How could he ever expect her to trust him after this?
“Don’t get angry, now,” Wheatley said to Blue, ignoring Owen. He kept aiming his trank rifle right at Blue. “These darts won’t hurt you. Just a little prick—like getting your wisdom teeth out.”
A bearded tracker fired another dart. But the shot came too late. Blue was already airborne.
The Raptor leapt through the air and landed on the lead tracker, digging her sharp sickle-shaped claw in deep. It stuck in his claw-proof vest, which saved his life…but only for a moment, and he knew it. In a near panic, the tracker yanked his sidearm out of its holster. This was no tranquilizer gun. It was a pistol loaded with real bullets.
“NO!” Owen yelled. “Don’t shoot!”
BLAM! The bullet hit Blue’s leg. She screeched, then opened her mouth wide enough to fit around the man’s entire head.
“SHOOT IT!” he screamed. “SHOO—”
CHOMP! In a single powerful bite, Blue took care of the tracker. He wouldn’t be bothering her ever again.
But then, THHHUKKK! Another dart, fired by Wheatley, hit Blue. She snarled in pain, starting to run toward Wheatley to attack, but just before she reached him, she dropped to the ground, knocked out cold by the tranquilizer.
“You!” Owen couldn’t contain his fury. He charged at Wheatley, planning to tackle him to the ground, to punish him for his responsibility in the wounding of Blue and the needless death of the tracker.
Wheatley calmly turned and aimed his tranquilizer gun a
t Owen.
“Owen, watch out!” Zia yelled.
Owen grabbed one of the trackers and spun him toward Wheatley. THUKKK! Wheatley’s dart hit his own man right in the chest. The tracker went limp in Owen’s arms.
Owen flung the unconscious man aside and drew his own gun. THUKKK! Another one of Wheatley’s men fired his trank gun at Owen, hitting him in the side. The power of the dart’s impact jerked him back. He dropped to his knees, fighting the powerful sedative rushing through his veins. He locked eyes with Wheatley and gave him a burning look full of rage. Wheatley returned his look with a smile of utter contempt as Owen’s eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Zia ran to Owen’s side and pulled out the dart. Behind her, a trank rifle clicked as Wheatley reloaded. Without hesitating, Zia picked up the unconscious tracker’s tranquilizer rifle and aimed it at Wheatley.
At Zia’s feet, Owen and Blue lay motionless on the jungle floor, while all around, Wheatley and his men aimed their trank rifles at her.
It was a standoff.
“You shoot, and it’ll take four seconds for the tranquilizer to reach my brain,” she said, speaking slowly and clearly. “That’s plenty of time for me to pull the trigger.”
A drop of sweat trickled down Zia’s forehead.
“You shoot me,” she said, jerking her head toward Blue, “and that animal dies.”
Wheatley hesitated. Zia kept the trank gun pointed right at him. “We have doctors,” he said. “We don’t need you.”
“She’s losing blood from her gunshot wound,” Zia countered. “Without me, you’ll never get her back to camp alive.”
Wheatley looked down at Blue. He hated to admit it, but Zia was right. The Raptor was bleeding from the wound in her leg where his man had shot her. He needed this dinosaur to live.
He nodded to his men, a single quick lift of his chin. They lowered their weapons. “Keep her alive,” he barked at Zia. “Follow my orders. You’re to be seen, not heard. Got it?”
Zia lowered her trank rifle and turned to Blue, hoping to stop her bleeding.
Wheatley looked up at the smoking volcano and wiped sweat from his brow. One of the trackers came up to him and spoke softly so Zia couldn’t hear. “What about him?” he asked, indicating Owen with a quick move of his head.
Wheatley gave a quick, cold smile. “Leave him. Got your tablet?”
The tracker nodded and pulled out a computer tablet.
“Good,” Wheatley said. “Close that door we left open.”
* * *
In the bunker, Claire clicked the button on her radio. “Owen, can you hear me?” No voice came in return, only static.
“Something happened to them,” Claire said, worried.
“If something happened to them,” Franklin asked, “what happens to us?”
BOOOOM! Another tremor—stronger, louder, deep in the earth. Dust fell from the ceiling. Claire and Franklin froze.
BOOOOM! A crack spidered up the wall and across the ceiling.
“Nature’s angry,” Franklin said.
Claire headed down the long corridor toward the open bunker doors to see what was going on outside. Franklin followed her. But as they made their way down the hall, the bunker doors started to close!
“No! Wait!” Claire shouted, running now, with Franklin close behind.
SLAM! The thick doors sealed shut in their faces.
It ain’t gonna stop with the de-extinction of the dinosaurs.
—Dr. Ian Malcolm
After pounding on the heavy door for some time, Claire and Franklin turned around to look back at the dim light of the control room. “What’s going on?” Franklin asked. “Why did they close the doors? Are they protecting us?”
“I don’t think so,” Claire answered.
The earth shook again.
Outside in an armored truck barreling through Gyrosphere Valley, Wheatley spoke into his satellite phone. “Mission accomplished.”
Suddenly, there was an enormous explosion of rock and lava from the volcano! BOOOM!
“Just in the nick of time,” he added.
The voice on the other end of the line shouted, “What’s going on there? We’re two days behind schedule already!”
* * *
It was Eli Mills, back in Lockwood’s mansion. And he did not sound like the smooth, charming man that Claire had met.
“We got the Raptor,” Wheatley reported. “So we can start transport now.”
“No more delays, you hear me?” Mills barked. “If we don’t get those animals—”
“Mr. Mills?” said a small voice.
Mills wheeled around to find Maisie standing at the door to his office. “Not now, Maisie,” he said, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice.
“Are the dinosaurs safe?” Maisie asked, but Mills paid her no mind, so she spoke up and asked again, “Are they safe?”
“Not now!” Mills snapped, unable to hide his anger.
Maisie drew back, frightened by his sudden change. He could see in her eyes that she was thinking of running straight to her grandfather. Mills composed himself. He smiled.
“Sorry, honey, this is an important call,” he said. “Go on up to the library and I’ll meet you in a few minutes, okay?”
“Okay,” Maisie said uncertainly.
“I’ll tell you all about it,” Mills reassured her. “Promise.”
He gave her a big smile. She backed out of the office into the hallway, a little scared of him now. He shut the door behind her and continued his call with Wheatley. “Whatever it takes! Get those animals back now!”
* * *
In the jungle, Owen lay flat on the ground, still unconscious.
A low rumble. The earth shook.
Owen opened his eyes. He struggled to rise, but most of his body was still paralyzed from the dart. He was able to lift his head enough to scan the jungle. He saw a line of trees on fire in the distance. The volcano was erupting. This was it.
The shadow of a massive animal passed over him. And then a big, coarse tongue licked his face, leaving streaks of spit.
Owen struggled to move his face away from the wet tongue. He saw its mouth and snout. A massive horn. The animal huffed, drooled, and wheezed.
BOOOM! A deafening rumble from the volcano!
Startled, the animal reared up, lifting its front legs to the sky. It was a Sinoceratops, a vegetarian dinosaur that wouldn’t eat Owen.
But it could smash him.
Unable to roll out of the way, Owen saw the Sinoceratops’s gigantic, heavy feet coming down toward him—
WHOMP!!! WHOMP!!! The dinosaur’s feet crashed down on either side of Owen’s head, just missing him. The Sinoceratops ran off, away from the volcano. A stream of molten lava oozed down a nearby hill, scorching everything in its path.
Owen tried to move, fighting the sedative in his body. The lava drew nearer. He clawed the ground. He was starting to feel the heat. Up the hill behind him, more trees caught fire, their trunks bursting into flame one by one.
Finally, summoning all his strength, Owen managed to roll away from the lava. He was getting beyond the burning jungle when—
BAM! He rolled right into a fallen tree.
Somehow he managed to wrench himself over the log, only to face more lava seeping toward him. Surrounded on all sides by the fiery molten rock, he saw the lava swallow the Jurassic World vehicle. It hissed as the metal melted like butter.
With incredible effort, he hauled himself up to his hands and knees, calling on every ounce of his will to move.
* * *
Inside the bunker, Claire tried to get reception on her cell phone. Franklin typed away furiously on his tablet, trying to open the doors. It was growing hotter and hotter.
“ ‘Take the job, son. Build your peopl
e skills,’ ” Franklin muttered. “Thanks, Dad.”
BEEP BEEP! Franklin jumped at the loud sound.
“Proximity alert,” Claire explained. “Something’s coming.”
They stared at the blinking red dot on the monitor. An animal with an embedded tracking device appeared to be moving through the maze of underground tunnels toward the bunker.
Franklin stared into the dark tunnel behind them. “Where does that lead?”
“It connects with other quadrants of the park,” she answered.
“I knew there had to be secret tunnels,” Franklin said.
BOOM. BOOM.
Something big was coming.
We’re causing our own extinction….
—Dr. Ian Malcolm
“It’s the T. rex,” Franklin guessed, horrified.
BOOM.
“It’s the T. rex, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Will you stop?” Claire said, staring down the dark tunnel. “It’s not a T. rex. Probably.”
“Probably!”
They nervously approached the tunnel entrance, waiting to see what would emerge. There was nowhere else for them to go.
Then, behind them, they heard a terrible hiss as hot lava began to seep through cracks in the ceiling! Flaming drips of lava trickled down, burning and sparking. Claire and Franklin spun around to face the falling lava.
From the dark tunnel behind them emerged…a Baryonyx!
They whipped back around to see the fierce dinosaur. “See?” Claire said. “It’s not the T. rex!”
“How is this better?” Franklin asked.
He had a point. The Baryonyx had a long, narrow mouth full of cone-shaped teeth and looked a little like a crocodile. Except much bigger. And she could also stand on her back legs.
