The Lost World

by Michael Crichton

  Dodgson awoke, aching and stiff, on the floor of the concrete utility shed. He got to his feet, and looked out the window. He saw streaks of red in a pale-blue sky. He opened the door to the utility shed, and went outside.

  He was very thirsty, and his body was sore. He started walking beneath the canopy of trees. The jungle around him was silent in the early morning. He needed water. More than anything, he needed water. Somewhere off to his left, he heard the soft gurgle of a stream. He headed toward it, moving more quickly.

  Through the trees, he could see the sky growing lighter. He knew that Malcolm and his party were still here. They must have some plan to get off the island. If they could get off, he could too.

  He came over a low rise, and looked down at a gully and a flowing stream. It looked clear. He hurried down toward it, wondering if it was polluted. He decided he didn’t care. Just before he reached the stream, he tripped over a vine and fell, swearing.

  He got to his feet, and looked back. Then he saw it wasn’t a vine he had tripped over.

  It was the strap of a green backpack.

  Dodgson tugged at the strap, and the whole backpack slid out of the foliage. The pack had been torn apart, and it was crusty with dried blood. As he pulled it, the contents clattered out among the ferns. Flies were buzzing everywhere. But he saw a camera, a metal case for food, and a plastic water bottle. He searched quickly through the surrounding ferns. But he didn’t find much else, except some soggy candy bars.

  Dodgson drank the water, and then realized he was very hungry. He popped open the metal case, hoping for some decent food. But the case didn’t contain food. It was filled with foam packing.

  And in the center of the packing was a radio.

  He flicked it on. The battery light glowed strongly. He flicked from one channel to another, hearing static.

  Then a man’s voice. “Sarah? This is Thorne. Sarah?”

  After a moment, a woman’s voice: “Doc. Did you hear me? I said, I’m at the car.”

  Dodgson listened, and smiled.

  So there was a car.

  In the store, Thorne held the radio close to his cheek. “Okay,” he said. “Sarah? Listen carefully. Get in the car, and do exactly what I tell you.”

  “Okay fine,” she said. “But tell me first. Is Levine there?”

  “He’s here.”

  The radio clicked. She said, “Ask him if there’s any danger from a green dinosaur that’s about four feet tall and has a domed forehead.”

  Levine nodded. “Tell her yes. They’re called pachycephalosaurs.”

  “He says yes,” Thorne said. “They’re pachycephalo-somethings, and you should be careful. Why?”

  “Because there’s about fifty of them, all around the car.”

  Explorer

  The Explorer was sitting in the middle of a shady section of the road, with overhanging trees above. The car had stopped just beyond a depression, where there had no doubt been a large puddle the night before. Now the puddle had become a mudhole, thanks to the dozen or so animals that sat in it, splashed in it, drank from it, and rolled at its edges. These were the green dome-headed dinosaurs that she had been watching for the last few minutes, trying to decide what to do. Because not only were they near the mudhole, they were also located in front of the car, and around the sides of the car.

  She had watched the pachycephalosaurs with uneasiness. Harding had spent a lot of time on the ground with wild animals, but usually animals she knew well. From long experience, she knew how closely she could approach, and under what circumstances. If this were a herd of wildebeest, she would walk right in without hesitation. If it were a herd of American buffalo, she would be cautious, but she’d still go in. And if it were a herd of African buffalo, she wouldn’t go anywhere near them.

  She pushed the microphone against her cheek and said, “How much time left?”

  “Twenty minutes.”

  “Then I better get in there,” she said. “Any ideas?”

  There was a pause. The radio crackled.

  “Levine says nobody knows anything about these animals, Sarah.”

  “Great.”

  “Levine says a complete skeleton has never been recovered. So nobody has even a guess about their behavior, except that they’re probably aggressive.”

  “Great,” she said.

  She was looking at the situation of the car, and the overhanging trees. It was a shady area, peaceful and quiet in the early-morning light.

  The radio crackled. “Levine says you might try walking slowly in, and see if the herd lets you through. But no quick movements, no sudden gestures.”

  She stared at the animals and thought: They have those domed heads for a reason.

  “No thanks,” she said. “I’m going to try something else.”

  “What?”

  In the store, Levine said, “What’d she say?”

  “She said she was going to try something else.”

  “Like what?” Levine said. He went to the window and looked out. The sky was growing lighter. He frowned. There was some consequence to that, he thought. Something he knew in the back of his mind, but wasn’t thinking about.

  Something about daylight . . .

  And territory.

  Territory.

  Levine looked out at the sky again, trying to put it together. What difference did it make that daylight was coming? He shook his head, gave it up for the moment. “How long to reset the breakers?”

  “Just a minute or two,” Thorne said.

  “Then there might still be time,” Levine said.

  There was static hiss from the radio, and they heard Harding say, “Okay, I’m above the car.”

  “You’re where?”

  “I’m above the car,” she said. “In a tree.”

  Harding climbed out on the branch, moving farther from the trunk, feeling it bend under her weight. The branch seemed supple. She was now ten feet above the car, swinging lower. Few of the animals below had looked up at her, but the herd seemed to be restless. Animals sitting in the mud got up, and began to turn and mill. She saw their tails flicking back and forth anxiously.

  She moved farther out, and the branch bent lower. It was slippery from the night’s rain. She tried to gauge her position above the car. It looked pretty good, she thought.

  Suddenly, one of the animals charged the trunk of the tree she was in, butting it hard. The impact was surprisingly forceful. The tree swayed, her branch swinging up and down, while she struggled to hold on.

  Oh shit, she thought.

  She rose up into the air, came down again, and then she lost her grip. Her hands slipped on wet leaves and wet bark, and she fell free. At the last moment, she saw that she would miss the car entirely. Then she hit the ground, landing hard in muddy earth.

  Right beside the animals.

  The radio crackled. “Sarah?” Thorne said.

  There was no answer.

  “What’s she doing now?” Levine began to pace nervously. “I wish we could see what she’s doing.”

  In the corner of the room, Kelly got up, rubbing her eyes. “Why don’t you use the video?”

  Thorne said, “What video?”

  Kelly pointed to the cash register. “That’s a computer.”

  “It is?”

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  * * *

  Kelly yawned as she sat in the chair facing the cash register. It looked like a dumb terminal, which meant it probably didn’t have access to much, but it was worth a try anyway. She turned it on. Nothing happened. She flicked the power switch back and forth. Nothing.

  Idly, she swung her legs, and kicked a wire beneath the table. She bent over and saw that the terminal was unplugged. So she plugged it in.

  The screen glowed, and a single word appeared:

  LOGIN:

  To proceed further, she knew she needed a password. Arby had a password. She glanced over and saw that he was still asleep. She didn’t want to wake him up. She remembered t
hat he had written it down on a piece of paper and stuck it in his pocket. Maybe it was still in his clothes, she thought. She crossed the room, found the bundle of his wet, muddy clothes, and began going through the pockets. She found his wallet, the keys to his house, and some other stuff. Finally she found a piece of paper in his back pocket. It was damp, and streaked with mud. The ink had smeared, but she could still read his writing:

  VIG/&*849/

  Kelly took the paper and went back to the computer. She typed in all the characters carefully, and pressed the return key. The screen went blank, and then a new screen came up. She was surprised. It was different from the screen she had seen earlier, in the trailer.

  She was in the system. But the whole thing looked different. Maybe because this wasn’t the radionet, she thought. She must be logged into the actual laboratory system. It had more graphics because the terminal was hard-wired. Maybe they even ran optical pipe out here.

  Across the room, Levine said, “Kelly? How about it?”

  “I’m working on it,” she said.

  Cautiously, she began to type. Rows of icons appeared rapidly across the screen, one after another.

  She knew she was looking at a graphic interface of some kind, but the meaning of the images wasn’t obvious to her, and there were no explanations. The people who had used this system were probably trained to know what the images meant. But Kelly didn’t know. She wanted to get into the video system, yet none of the pictures suggested anything to do with video. She moved the cursor around, wondering what to do.

  She decided she’d have to guess. She picked the diamond-shaped icon on the lower left, and clicked on it.

  “Uh-oh,” she said, alarmed.

  Levine looked over. “Something wrong?”

  “No,” she said. “It’s fine.” She quickly clicked on the header, and got back to the previous screen. This time she tried one of the triangular-shaped icons.

  The screen changed again:

  That’s it, she thought. Immediately the image popped off, and the actual video images began to flash up on the screen. On this little cash-register monitor, the pictures were tiny, but now she was in familiar territory, and she moved around quickly, moving the cursor, manipulating the images.

  “What are you looking for?” she said.

  “The Explorer,” Thorne said.

  She clicked the screen. The image zoomed up. “Got it,” she said.

  Levine said, “You do?” He sounded surprised.

  Kelly looked at him and said, “Yeah, I do.”

  The two men came and stared at the screen over her shoulder. They could see the Explorer, on a shaded road. They could see the pachycephalosaurs, lots of them, milling around the car. The animals were poking at the tires and the front fender.

  But they didn’t see Sarah anywhere.

  “Where is she?” Thorne said.

  Sarah Harding was underneath the car, lying on her face in the mud. She had crawled there after she fell—it was the only place to go—and now she was staring out at the animals’ feet milling all around her. She said, “Doc. Are you there? Doc? Doc.” But the damned radio wasn’t working again. The pachys were stamping and snorting, trying to get at her under the car.

  Then she remembered that Thorne had said something about screwing down the battery pack. She reached behind her back, and found the pack, and twisted the cover shut tight.

  Immediately, her earpiece began to crackle with static.

  “Doc,” she said.

  “Where are you?” Thorne said.

  “I’m under the car.”

  “Why? Did you already try it?”

  “Try what?”

  “Try to start it. To start the car.”

  “No,” she said, “I didn’t try to start it, I fell.”

  “Well, as long as you’re under there, you can check the breakers,” Thorne said.

  “The breakers are under the car?”

  “Some of them. Look up by the front wheels.”

  She twisted her body, sliding in the mud. “Okay. I’m looking.”

  “There’s a box right behind the front bumper. Over on the left.”

  “I see it.”

  “Can you open it?”

  “I think so.” She crawled forward, and pulled at the latch. The lid came down. She was staring at three black switches. “I see three switches and they are all pointing up.”

  “Up?”

  “Toward the front of the car.”

  “Hmmm,” Thorne said. “That doesn’t make sense. Can you read the writing?”

  “Yes. It says ‘15 VV’ and then ‘02 R.’”

  “Okay,” he said. “That explains it.”

  “What?”

  “The box is in backward. Flip all the switches the other way. Are you dry?”

  “No, Doc. I’m soaking wet, lying in the damn mud.”

  “Well then, use your shirtsleeve or something.”

  Harding pulled herself forward, approaching the bumper. The nearest pachys snorted and banged on the bumper. They leaned down and twisted their heads, trying to get to her. “They have very bad breath,” she said.

  “Say again?”

  “Never mind.” She flipped the switches, one after another. She heard a hum, from the car above her. “Okay. I did it. The car is making a noise.”

  “That’s fine,” Thorne said.

  “What do I do now?”

  “Nothing. You better wait.”

  She lay back in the mud, looking at the feet of the pachys. They were moving, tramping all around her.

  “How much time left?” she said.

  “About ten minutes.”

  She said, “Well, I’m stuck under here, Doc.”

  “I know.”

  She looked at the animals. They were on all sides of the car. If anything, they seemed to be growing more active and excited. They stamped their feet and snuffled impatiently. Why were they so worked up? she wondered. And then, suddenly, they all thundered off. They ran toward the front of the car, and away, up the road. She twisted her body and watched them go.

  There was silence.

  “Doc?” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why’d they leave?”

  “Stay under the car,” Thorne said.

  “Doc?”

  “Don’t talk.” The radio clicked off.

  She waited, not sure what was happening. She had heard the tension in Thorne’s voice. She didn’t know why. But now she heard a soft scuffling sound, and looking over, saw two feet standing by the driver’s side of the car.

  Two feet in muddy boots.

  Men’s boots.

  Harding frowned. She recognized the boots. She recognized the khaki trousers, even though they were now caked with mud.

  It was Dodgson.

  The man’s boots turned to face the door. She heard the door latch click.

  Dodgson was getting in the car.

  Harding acted so swiftly, she was not aware of thinking. Grunting, she swung her body around sideways, reached out with her arms, grabbed both ankles, and pulled hard. Dodgson fell, giving a yell of surprise. He landed on his back, and turned, his face dark and angry.

  He saw her and scowled. “No shit,” he said. “I thought I finished you off on the boat.”

  Harding went red with rage, and started to crawl out from under the car. Dodgson scrambled to his knees as she was halfway out, but then she felt the ground begin to shake. And she immediately knew why. She saw Dodgson look over his shoulder, and flatten himself on the ground. Hurriedly, he started to crawl under the car beside her.

  She turned in the mud, looking down along the length of the car. And she saw a tyrannosaurus coming up the road toward them. The ground vibrated with each step. Now Dodgson was crawling toward the center of the car, pushing himself close to her, but she ignored him. She watched the big feet with the splayed claws as they came alongside the car, and stopped. Each foot was three feet long. She heard the tyrannosaur growling.
r />   She looked at Dodgson. His eyes were wide with terror. The tyrannosaur paused beside the car. The big feet shifted. She heard the animal somewhere above, sniffing. Then, growling again, the head came down. The lower jaw touched the ground. She could not see the eye, just the lower jaw. The tyrannosaur sniffed again, long and slow.

  It could smell them.

  Beside her, Dodgson was trembling uncontrollably. But Harding was strangely calm. She knew what she had to do. Quickly, she shifted her body, twisting around, moving so her head and shoulders were braced against the rear wheel of the car. Dodgson turned to look at her just as her boots began to push against his lower legs. Pushing them out from beneath the car.

  Terrified, Dodgson struggled, trying to push back, but her position was much stronger. Inch by inch, his boots moved out into the cold morning light. Then his calves. She grunted as she pushed, concentrating every ounce of her energy. In a high-pitched voice, Dodgson said, “What the hell are you doing?”

  She heard the tyrannosaur growling. She saw the big feet move.

  Dodgson said, “Stop it! Are you crazy? Stop it!”

  But Harding didn’t stop. She got her boot on his shoulder, and pushed once more. For a while Dodgson struggled against her, and then suddenly his body moved easily, and she saw that the tyrannosaur had his legs in its jaws and was pulling Dodgson out from under the car.

  Dodgson wrapped his hands around her boot, trying to hold on, trying to drag her with him. She put her other boot on his face and kicked hard. He let go. He slid away from her.

  She saw his terrified face, ashen, mouth open. No words came out. She saw his fingers, digging into the mud, leaving deep gouges as he was pulled away. And then his body was dragged out. Everything was strangely quiet. She saw Dodgson spin around onto his back, and look upward. She saw the shadow of the tyrannosaur fall across him. She saw the big head come down, the jaws wide. And she heard Dodgson begin to scream as the jaws closed around his body, and he was lifted up.

  Dodgson felt himself rise high into the air, twenty feet above the ground, and all the time he continued to scream. He knew at any moment the animal would snap its great jaws shut, and he would die. But the jaws never closed. Dodgson felt stabbing pain in his sides, but the jaws never closed.