Here is the first chapter of the reworked version of 24 Hours of Terror. If you haven't ever read this story before, you have nothing to worry about, if you have, please try to reconcile it with this new version. Trust me, it's going to be better.
24 Hours of Terror-Chapter One-Build Them Higher
The park's new hybrid dinosaur is becoming something of a nuisance. ACU has been called out to her paddock once already. She ate her sibling and had to be tranquilized so they could remove the body. I wasn't there personally but apparently she's one devil of a dinosaur.
Now they want us to go inspect the cage. Is it too short? To thin-walled? Not enough cameras? The glass thick enough? The gate sturdy? Feeding system safe? They're all questions we've answered before, but I guess management wants them answered again.
Apparently it's bigger than expected.
Personally I think making a genetically modified— I believe 'hybrid' was the word used— dinosaur is not a good idea. How can they possibly know what to expect?
However, it's not my job to make a safe dinosaur, just to make sure the cage is stronger than its inmate. The security at this place is amazing, but that doesn't stop it from having its issues.
I think they underestimate the animals. Everyone's so worried about the carnivores they forget the herbivores and don't give them their fair share of time. There has never been a carnivore containment incident at Jurassic World, but some of the herbivores, the pachys in particular, are escape artists. They don't actually get out with the visitors, there's a thirty foot perimeter fence charged with electricity to make sure that doesn't happen, but the way the herbivore paddocks work is quite a headache.
All the animals are implanted with tracking devices when they hatch, which deliver an electric shock if they try to go somewhere they're not supposed to, kind of like an invisible fence. For the carnivores this is just a security measure, but for the herbivores it's how they keep some of the less compatible species apart. Basically, the herbivores are free range, just with shock collars to make sure they don't range too much.
The pachycephalosaurs don't get along with anyone, so they have their own range. They're pugnacious little fellows though, and when they quite literally butt heads their tracking implants sometimes short out, allowing them to leave their zone and get in with some of the other species. This generally happens several times a month and is a real hassle.
Jurassic World likes to look pretty and in control, giving the illusion of free range herbivores and happy, well-fed carnivores. They occasionally go for beauty over functionality, and it's this tendency that has me worried about the hybrid. But that's what the Asset Containment Unit is for, making sure their illusion doesn't erupt into chaos.
And now we're off to the paddock. It's hot out, and since this isn't an escaped asset that has the team assembled we're not in full uniform, just gray-blue t-shirts, cargo pants and our hats. My team leader Katashi Hamada drives the Sprinter the team uses, and Stan "Shotgun" Miller rides shotgun while I sit in the back with Mike Lee. We call him shotgun cause that's where he always sits, plus it's his weapon of choice.
Each ACU team has one leader and three troopers. There are four other teams, all of which I've worked with before, but I don't know any of the members well except for Ray Austin. He and I both are friends with Owen Grady, the raptor trainer. We're fishing buddies at his lake.
I saw Owen working with the raptors once and I'll never forget it. That's what I like about working at Jurassic World, seeing the animals as animals and not monsters or cutesy kids' attractions. They are beautiful and fierce, and the raptors are the most beautiful and fierce of all. Owen doesn't treat them like assets, he treats them kind of like dogs. It's pretty funny to see the way they interact. Of course, Owen can't go in with them since they're a little more lethal than a dog, but when he gets there in the morning you can practically see their tails wagging.
I was kind of miffed when they pulled me away from my normal job of security at the raptor paddock to help inspect the Indominus' cage today. I'm one of the more veteran ACU members, and have worked mostly with carnivores so I can see why they want me, but this morning promised to be an excellent training session, and I missed it!
"Cris, you've been awfully quiet."Lee says, his elbow hitting me in the ribs.
I jump. "Just thinking," I say.
"About what, how much they must have been feeding that dinosaur to need to worry about cage security?"
"No, though I suppose I should," I laugh.
The sprinter hits a bump, and breaks my train of thought. I exchange pointless banter and conversation with Mike until we pull around a curve in the road and up in front of the paddock. A huge crane stands to the side of the paddock, the derrick swinging idly in the light breeze. A team of construction workers sits under the shade of the palms on the edge of the jungle, their laughter detectable from across the paddock. They must be on break.
Claire Dearing the park manager and paddock superintendent Nick Edelstein stand in front of the door. Mike, being the chivalrous fellow he is opens the door for me…with a mocking "after you, m'lady".
I punch him in the arm.
"Spitfire," he whispers.
I hiss.
"Literally," he adds, raising his eyebrows.
I roll my eyes. Then we switch over to professional mode, falling into a rough line behind Hamada and Shotgun, stopping when our commander stops and shakes hands with Ms. Dearing.
"I'll get right to the point," she says. "The hybrid's security has been…more complicated than we guessed. It's attacked the handlers and seems…quite intelligent. Also, it's bigger than expected. We want your opinion on the security."
We are all nodding as she finishes the sentence, then wheels about, her white skirt swirling slightly as she turns. How she prances around in the four inch stilettos she's wearing right now, I don't know.
I wobble even if I try to wear two inch platforms.
She leads the way up the stairs and punches in a security code beside the door. It opens and we walk through into what must be the viewing area.
A heavy, OK, fat, man sits on the other side of the room, looking up from a soda and what I can only assume is a video game as we step into the room.
"Where's the dinosaur?" Mike asks.
"We had you come just before feeding time so that you could see her in action. Mr. Edelstein will tempt her now." She looks over at him but he pays no attention, fingers moving quickly over the face of the iPad as he plays whatever he's playing, thoroughly engrossed.
"Mr. Edelstein." Ms. Dearing says, louder and more sharply.
"Huh—what—" he sits up abruptly, startled.
"I said will you please feed the Rex, so we can see her."
"Oh, yeah," he heaves himself up and walks over to the control panel, punching in several commands.
Then I hear a mechanical hum and turn, looking out into the paddock. The arm of the crane I saw earlier swings over the wall, half a raw steer hanging limply from it. It's good and bloody. I've seen the raptors feed; there's no way a carnivore could resist that.
A few seconds later that hypothesis is validated as the bushes begin to rustle. I catch a glimpse of wicked spikes and ghostly white scales through the foliage, and a faint vibration of heavy footfalls hums through the floor. I swallow.
"It's white," Mike says, his voice disbelieving.
"It's…ghastly," I answer, "but then I think that's kind of what they're going for."
He nods agreement, and we both look back into the foliage. Suddenly there is a flurry of motion and the next thing I know she's out in the center of the clearing, jaws tearing the steer from the meathook and thrashing it from side to side before lifting her head and crunching down, gulping meat and bone the way a chicken eats a grasshopper.
"Can it see us?" Mike asks warily.
"It can sense thermal radiation, like a snake," Claire answers.
"Holy moly," I breathe. As if on cue, the dinosaur rounds and looks at the window, its eyes staring through the glass with frightening intelligence. Through the vent that allows viewers to hear the animal's vocalizations comes a low rumbling growl, almost a feral purr. A drop of blood rolls from between two of it's jagged teeth. It's eyes are orange, I realize.
Its muscles tense and it lunges at the glass, mouth opening in a roar and wicked talons clashing against sheer barrier. To my horror it cracks, not breaking fully but thin spiderwebs spreading from the points of impact where the deadly claws struck. I stumble back a few steps.
A few more times it slams against the glass and the floor shakes, but the barrier holds and the dinosaur backs off, seemingly realizing the futility of its efforts. Giving one last roar, this one with an irritable note of frustration, the monster stalks off into the bushes.
"Build them higher," Hamada says.
"What?" Claire turns to him. Her eyes are slightly wide. I wonder if this is the first time she's seen what her 'attraction' can do.
"The walls," Hamada clarifies, "build them higher. If that thing gets out…"
He doesn't finish the sentence, but the picture the words paint is clear.
Claire huffs out irritably. "If you really feel that's necessary," she emphasizes the 'necessary', "I'll have construction build them higher. It will mean delaying the attraction's Grand Opening until June instead of May as planned, but—"
"Do it." Hamada cuts off. "This park cannot afford to take chances."
"Alright," she says, pursing her lips like a mom conceding to a child that keeps insisting there's a monster under the bed. "Thank you, Mr. Hamada. I'd love to stay and chat, but I have a meeting at"— she consults her watch—"actually I should have left two minutes ago. Thank you."
She turns and leaves the room. I linger another few seconds, hoping the park hasn't made a terrible mistake. Not that I could—or can do—anything to stop them.
