Isla Sorna. 207 Miles West of Costa Rica.
A symphony of cicadas and birds play under the veil of night in the dense jungle of Isla Sorna. A croak joins the chorus, then another bird and insect join the musical piece. How calming the noise of nature as it plays its sonorous desires under the full moon, ever watchful of the island beneath it.
A noise breaks the bridge of the song that does not fit into their work of natural art. A splash, another, then a third and then fast, heavy crunching as the wet, crisp flora is beaten beneath boots. Three men crash the symbols of serene nature with their panicked haste to reach the final note unscathed by the passage of what the music has to say. The tone betrays the serenity of the night soon drowns all connection the jungle had to itself with their cacophony of distress.
One, a tall thin man breaks through a small circle of tall cycads and finds a fallen tree ahead of him. Unscathed by the obstacle in his path, he rushes forward as fast as his legs will take him and leaps over the fallen conifer. He glances back, a blur of the original tree still set in the grown, broken roughly half way up its length, then toward the line of cycads where another man breaks through. He jumps the tree and calls out to the third man behind.
His body rebounds fast from the leap and he continues on, but a sound breaks his run. He staggers forward as his body wants to move, but his eyes need to turn. The third man has fallen, his chest slammed against the curvature of the log he had not been prepared for.
The second man turned, his glasses blurred by the thick, choking humidity that threatened to seize his very sight. He rubbed at them hastily and then searched for the first man, but he had fled deep into the jungle ahead of them. The third he could hear hurried to climb the log, gasps of flesh being scraped by jagged bark.
Run!
He had to, it is what is instincts told him, but the man in him needed to save his friend. He took that risk and pulled the other, a blond man, his face from the corner of his lips to his ride ear streaked in crimson. His hands were wet from mud and blood and reached out for help.
"Quickly, we need to get out of here!" The second aided him and then something made them pause as though they were deer before headlights.
The puddle beneath them rippled in tone with a deep thud that resonated up form the Earth and into their chilled hearts. Prematurely the second tugged away and tried to pull the other with him, which caused the man to drop face first into the mud. It was too late to grab for him.
All too quickly his glasses fogged again and he could only see a blur break through the dense foliage, but the foul smell and the hiss told him he needed to run, or else he will become another member of the graveyard known as Isla Sorna.
"No!" Was all he could hear screaming through the forest before it was drowned by his feet that pushed on to exhaustion and the beat of his heart, which thumped harder than he had ever felt before.
Beyond the clearing of the jungle was a cliff that lead straight down to the calm waters below. So serene was the setting you would almost think that nothing happened, that this was relaxing night on Isla Sorna. That's what the man in the boat thought as he sat, stretched out captain's chair half asleep and headphones over his ears. He was a Costa Rican native and waited for his clientele to return from their mission, when he was suddenly awoken by a strange sight out of the half-lidded daze of his eyes, he didn't realize just how soon, and just how rushed they would be to leave. The boat wasn't even turned on, but he sure burst into action when a man suddenly appeared at the top of the cliff and leapt like a monkey with no branch to reach for.
After the loud splash of a body broken through the tense surface, the captain lit the waters with a spotlight to find him. Soon enough a head and a yell guided his light like the spotlight of a lighthouse to the man astray.
Exhausted, the tall man reached out for anything and found a hand guided him up onto the boat. Water splashed over with his body onto the deck and he took that precious moment of reprieve to finally breathe. He pointed up at the cliff and the captain did as he was told, the jungle above them spotlighted for all to see.
As the captain watched, he turned to see the rescued man had gotten back a burst of energy and had started the motor. It took a moment to rev, but as it did, and the loud rumbling of water being churned up was distracted by a sight at the top of the cliff.
That deep, heart-gripping pounding of the Earth chased the second man until he reached the cliff just ten meters past the tree line. He cleared his lens as a focused light searched for his eyes through the fog-stained glass.
"Jump!" A voice yelled to him and he saw the two men on the boat. Two, not a third.
"I can't!" He returned and looked down the distance to the rocks and waters now disturbed by the motor.
This was the worst time for his fear to grip him, but now it was a war between the terror of heights and that which he could hear hot on his trail.
"We need to go!" The captain was panicked.
"Okay, I'm going to jump! I'll count to three!" The second man ran his fingers through his black, muddied hair. He knew he had to, but one does not simply forget all his other fears when one more joins the fray. He felt his knees buckle, his body moved aquiver.
The boat began to move and the light taken from the cliff, the man left on the island shrouded in the veil of nightfall, the only light was found under the mocking eye of the moon. It watched as if with interest as a great crashing noise broke through the trees.
Teeth was all he saw.