Jurassic Park: The Dinosaur Doctor
Chapter 1: Guaro
Sebastian Flores set four shot glasses atop a glossy, polished cedar bar. A well-built Costa Rican gentleman of 58, Sebastian displayed an eerily perfect posture as he wrestled open the lid of a freshly minted bottle of Cacique Guaro. He poured four perfect shots into four spotless shot glasses, completely in command of his possessions.
"To our rich coast," Sebastian announced in English. He clanked his glass against those of the three others across the bar. They gulped down their Guaro shots, tasting the sugary pain of Costa Rica's most beloved beverage.
"You'll find that I speak in English around those who don't understand Spanish," Sebastian stated calmly. "It's rather rude to speak a tongue unknown to someone in the room, don't you find?" The two Costa Ricans standing before him turned their attention to the American, Philip Garner.
A handsome young man of 25, Garner could've easily passed for a college freshman. How he'd gotten caught up in a gang of Costa Rican cocaine dealers was none of Sebastian's business, as far as the aging drug lord was concerned. Sebastian didn't care to ask his two most trusted servants where they'd found the boy. They were loyal, bold and tough - which was as good a definition of "smart" as Sebastian had ever known. And they hadn't let him down yet.
If they saw something in Garner worth trusting, then that was the only explanation needed. Sebastian didn't second guess those who didn't second guess him. That was his promise, and if anyone had ever bothered to ask Sebastian, he'd reveal that it was his secret. That one, simple principle had made him the wealthiest and most respected cocaine dealer in Costa Rica.
"So tell me, Mr. Garner, what is it that you've discovered?"
Garner raised his head to answer Sebastian, looking his master straight in the eyes.
"The paleontologist named Alan Grant found velociraptor eggs on the island. In the wild. He reasoned that they'd hatched only hours earlier. He could see their tracks leading off into the jungle, even though a massive storm had struck the day before."
"That's good," Sebastian said.
"Yes, because that means that are newborns available for the taking," Manny Ruiz, one of the Costa Ricans, interjected. Ruiz was tall and slender, with a wrinkled, scarred face that made him look considerably older than his 38 years.
"No, it's good that Mr. Garner looked me in the eye when he told me that. He's not afraid of me. That's smart. I don't trust anyone who's afraid of me, do you, Mr. Garner?"
Garner smiled. "I don't," he said.
"Good. So, you will find the veterinarian -Mr. Harding - and he will take you to Isla Nublar to find the young raptors. And you will bring them to me. That's our first step, is it not?"
"It is," Ruiz proclaimed.
A dog began barking from the corner of the room. Garner looked to see a massive, intimidating wolf of a pup. It was a breed he'd never seen. They didn't have those back home. Just as Garner was pondering the breed of the tan, tough beast, Sebastian began to speak.
"He wants to go outside. Ms. Lopez, you're nearest the door, please show him out."
Luciana Lopez, a muscular Costa Rican woman of 35, made for the door, whistling at the dog to follow.
"He can go wherever he pleases, Mr. Garner. Do you know why?"
"So he can be happy," Garner guessed.
Sebastian had a good laugh. As he began to answer the young American, he stopped himself and laughed again.
"No, Mr. Garner," Sebastian said between chuckles. The drug lord poured himself another shot of Guaro, as perfect as his first, and tossed it down. He cleared his throat and stared at Garner, his warm stare burning through the boy's blue eyes.
"Because he comes back to me," Sebastian offered firmly.
Chapter 2: Gerry
For the first time he could recall since the incident, Gerry Harding heard a knock at his door. It had been nearly a month since it happened. "It," that indelible nightmare he'd never quite forget. He'd not even been a party to the worst of it, yet it followed him wherever he went. So, he didn't go many places.
He got up - slowly and somewhat painfully. At 58, his bones didn't move as swiftly anymore. But the pain wasn't entirely physical. In fact, his cautious and sluggish movement was primarily the consequence of an emotional wound. He tried not to dwell on it, but its symptoms ached through his body regardless. The pain was real, whether he acknowledged it or not.
He opened the living room door. A girl stood before him. She couldn't have been older than 10, and while he wasn't sure who to expect at his front porch, she certainly wasn't it. She stood silent, her hands tucked behind her back. Gerry didn't know what to say.
"Can I help you?" Gerry offered finally.
The girl removed her hands from behind and slowly revealed a small canary. The bird - a soft, almost pastel hue of yellow - sat quietly in her arms. It was just a chick, probably weeks old.
"My bird is sad," the girl said.
Gerry smiled. "I'm sorry to hear that. But I'm not working right now. I'm taking some time off. You'd be better off calling a vet. I can recommend someone to you, if you'd like. Have you spoken to your parents about your little friend?"
"Yes, and they told me that since you live down the street I should take it to you cuz everyone thinks you're a nice man, except Mr. Taylor down the street, but he doesn't like anyone so it probably doesn't mean anything. They said you'd know what to do because you're a vegetarian."
Gerry grinned again. "A veterinarian," he clarified. "I'm a doctor, but for animals."
The girl's eyes widened. "Then you can make him better!"
Gerry sighed. "Well, I really shouldn't be doing this, but you've me won me over. Let's have a look."
Gerry reached for the canary and gently placed it in his hands, careful not to disturb the delicate chick. "And what seems to be the problem?"
"He's not happy," the girl replied.
"How so?"
"He just sits in the corner of his cage. He doesn't move around at all. He cries sometimes."
Gerry touched the back of the bird gently. He heard the faint whimper of suffering.
"You know, when I was in med school, my mentor taught me something I've never forgotten: veterinarians have the hardest job of any doctor. We must learn to know what is wrong with our patients without being able to ask them."
He inspected the canary carefully, lifting up a wing.
"I'll be damned," he said.
"Damned?" The girl asked.
"Sorry. A grown-up word. But it seems your little friend has a splinter in his wing. No wonder he's sad. Here, have a look," Harding showed the girl the underside of the wounded wing.
"That's a little piece of wood, jammed inside of him."
"Ouch," she said.
"Indeed. Do me a favor, go to the coffee table by the couch. There should be a pair of tweezers on it. A small, little metallic gadget."
She did as asked, found the tweezers, and brought them back to Gerry.
With a swift and confident precision, Gerry plucked the splinter from the bird. It yelped.
"You're hurting him!" The girl protested.
"Nah, just helping him. Sometimes healing hurts. But he'll thank you for it one day," Gerry said with a smirk.
Gerry tossed the splinter into a trash can by the door.
"Is he better now?" She asked.
"He will be soon. What's his name?"
"He doesn't have one yet. My friend's older brother gave him to me. He said it's mine now."
"Well, then he needs a name. Right?"
"What's your name?" She inquired.
"My name's Gerry."
"Then I'll name him Gerry, after the man who saved his life!" She said excitedly.
"I don't think it was that serious. And besides, you did the important work."
He handed her back the bird.
"But he's a boy and I'm a girl. My name is Tricia. That's a weird name for him."
Gerry laughed. "Whatever you feel is best."
"He's Gerry. Okay, thank you, Mister Gerry!"
Gerry grinned. "You're very welcome, Tricia. The wound should heal quickly, but let me give you something."
Gerry walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a small bandage. "Get a wet paper towel and ask your parents for a little bit of rubbing alcohol. Clean the wound and then apply this bandage. It won't take long. It'll help him get better."
"Okay, bye!"
"Bye-bye now."
Tricia headed down the road, careful not to drop the bird in her excitement. He felt the cool breeze of the air outside blow against his face. He'd been kept alive in an artificial cocoon of electronic warmth inside, and he'd forgotten how the world outside felt against his face.
As he shut the door behind her, Gerry realized that small act of helpfulness would make him feel a little better. Just like the bird he had helped, he felt a wound within begin to heal. Maybe she'd been smart to name him Gerry.
He walked back toward the couch, but as he gazed at the immobile lump, the desire to sink back into it escaped him. He eyed a jacket clinging to a coat hanger on the wall. Since it was as a bit nippy outside, maybe he could toss that on and go for a walk.
Why not, he thought. He was feeling better for the first time since it happened. And he remembered why he became a vet: helping those who can't help themselves made him feel just a little better about how he spent his time. And that was enough to make this aging veterinarian smile.
He grabbed the jacket, threw his arms inside of it, and strolled out the door. He almost turned back to lock it, but figured, what the hell. Live a little. He'd be back in a jiffy.
Chapter 3: Sarah
"You're sure this is the spot?" Ruiz asked, scanning the single-story house before him for an address.
"According to the map, yeah. This is it," Lopez said.
"So, what, we're just gonna... ring the bell?" Ruiz spoke into the cool air, still looking for an address.
"Got any better ideas?" Lopez shot back.
"I do," Garner said. He touched the door lightly, and the breeze flung it open. "The guy didn't even lock it."
"Whoa, whoa - take it easy, don't just storm the guy," Ruiz protested.
"Relax. He's not here. I saw him walking the other way down the road when we parked."
"Thanks for saying something," Ruiz said sardonically.
"I just did say something. Besides, I was busy."
"Busy doing what?" Ruiz asked.
Garner turned to him. "Thinking."
Garner led the way as they tip-toed into the house. Lopez took out a pistol.
"Easy," Ruiz said, grabbing her pistol with his hand. "Let's talk this out. How are we gonna approach him?"
"We're gonna stick this gun in his face and ask him for a guided tour of Isla Nublar," Lopez responded. "You got any better ideas?"
Once again, Garner answered Lopez from afar. "I do," he said, pointing to a letter on the living room table. In words written carefully, Gerry had been working on a letter to his estranged daughter, Sarah.
He'd started it the same way every time: "I know this isn't a letter you're happy to receive, but if you'd take a minute to hear me out, you might understand why I had to write it." Each time he'd begun the letter, he'd crossed it out in messy ink, a few sentences later. The situation couldn't have been more obvious to Garner.
"He's got a daughter he's looking to win back. Sarah. That's the move. We threaten Sarah. That'll motivate him more than anything," Garner stated confidently.
"And how do you know it's his daughter?" Ruiz asked, unconvinced.
Garner pointed at a picture on the wall: a baby surrounded by little toy dinosaurs, above the title "Sarah's first birthday."
"Lucky guess," Ruiz joked.
Just then, the door flung open, and Gerry waltzed in. Lopez drew her gun. It took the veterinarian a moment to process what was happening. Here, inside his quiet, humble home outside of San Diego, he was being held at gunpoint.
"Take a seat on your couch, Veterinarian," Lopez commanded calmly, motioning toward the sofa with her gun.
Gerry froze for a moment, unable to process what was occurring. It was as though if he thought it out enough, it would go away. Like a problem in his mind. Garner held Gerry's letter high in the air, a trophy of his spontaneous detective work. It was at that moment that Gerry knew this was real.
"Take a seat, I said," Lopez repeated. "I won't ask you again. She held the gun tight in her hand, flashing a look of cold, absolute determination. Gerry could see her fingers playing with the trigger. This was all too real.
Gerry took a seat on the couch, as instructed. He couldn't find words. But he felt an instinctual certainty that he better quit searching for them. He was a man no longer in control of his property: a prisoner in his own home.
Ruiz walked right up to the couch and took a seat next to Gerry. Gerry sat motionless, his eyes locked in a transfixed glaze at the floor beneath him. Without a word, Ruiz slapped the veterinarian in the face. That snapped Gerry out of it, instantly.
"Listen to me," Ruiz began. "That guy holding the letter?" The Costa Rican at Gerry's side pointed at Garner. "That's the new guy. Garner. You'll get to know him."
Gerry gulped.
"You see, Garner's a smart kid. He's not as smart as he thinks he is, but that's okay. He'll learn better one day. But lemme tell you what Garner wants to do. Garner wants to threaten your daughter's life. He wants you to think that if you do anything other than exactly what we ask, whenever we ask it, we'll smash her skull against a rock out in a desert."
Gerry felt the pain he had just forgotten come swelling back. He tried his best to not imagine the sight of what the man beside him was saying. But he couldn't help picturing it in his mind. He shuttered.
"But that's a rookie mistake. We ain't gonna kill your daughter. Sarah's got nothing to do with this, and I'm gonna make sure we keep it that way. When the boss isn't around, I'm in charge. Not Garner."
Gerry was caught off guard by Ruiz's words. There was an authenticity to the man - a sincerity he hadn't expected. He was working this out in real time.
"What I'm gonna make sure happens, should you fail to abide by our requests, is I'm gonna make sure we kill you. And you'll never make things right with Sarah. She'll live her life hating you as much as she does now. You'll never be her hero again. How does that sound, Veterinarian?"
Gerry couldn't manage a thought. He felt sick to his stomach.
Ruiz whipped out his own pistol, and jammed it right into Gerry's cheek. "I said how does that sound, Veterinarian!"
Gerry began to sob. "I... I got it."
"You got it, huh?" Ruiz smiled.
"I... I'll do whatever you need. I'll help you."
"You will," Ruiz said, satisfied. He cracked his gun against the back of Gerry's head, and the veterinarian fell into a quick collapse. He landed on his own coffee table, breaking it in two. But Gerry remained unconscious, unawakened by the impact.
Ruiz nodded. "That'll do. Garner, move the truck out back, by the garage. We'll load him in through the alley."
Chapter 4: Dinosaurs
Gerry felt the rumbling and tumbling of stiff wheels along an uneven ground. He slowly opened his eyes as his senses returned. Where was he? What was going on? He noticed the Costa Rican, Ruiz, seated across from him. Ruiz smiled and waved. Suddenly, it all came back.
"Where am I?" Gerry asked.
"You're in an M551."
"A what?"
"A tank. And you're not just in a tank. You're in a tank on an island filled with dinosaurs."
Ruiz grabbed Gerry and hoisted him up to a ladder, leading to an opening on the roof of the tank where Gerry could poke his head out. He did so, and took in the surroundings: he was back on Isla Nublar. It was as if nothing had changed and the last month of his life had been a dream. He saw a parasaurolophus group grazing in the distance, the unmistakable bent of their crests giving them away.
"And we need you to tell us where we can find the newborn velociraptors that Dr. Grant mentioned seeing," Ruiz ordered.
Gerry climbed down the hatch and took a seat back inside the tank.
"There... there shouldn't be any velociraptors. Or... parasaurolophus? How in God's name..."
Ruiz grew quickly impatient with the veterinarian's mumblings. "Look. Veterinarian. We're trying to find some baby raptors. Where. Are. They."
Garner, behind the wheel, turned his head back to face Gerry. He held up the letter, a cold reminder of their threat.
"That's the thing. These animals were bred lysine deficient. They shouldn't be alive. They should've slipped into a coma and died... hours, days after being deprived of their lysine supplements."
Just then, Gerry heard the rat-tat-tat of a Gatling gun. He covered his ears. Above him, Lopez fired at a heard of gallimimus flocking alongside the tank. The bird-like runners dropped like flies, one after another. Lopez anticipated their movements with stunning accuracy; she may as well have been pumping quarters into a video game at an arcade.
After a few moments of relentless fire, Gerry climbed the hatch to take in the sight. Dead gallimimus corpses riddled the countryside. Lopez stood behind the weapon with a satisfied smirk.
"They're herbivores. There's no need to kill them. They're harmless."
"I don't care," Lopez said.
Gerry felt sick to his stomach. Again.
He took his mind off the nausea and pondered the situation at hand. The dinosaurs must've found another source of lysine. The carnivores would be helpless but to eat the herbivores; they'd probably lack the gut instinct necessary to zero in on whatever flora may have enough lysine to sustain them. That would mean the herbivores had found a lysine-rich source of food. But how?
He couldn't say, but he knew one thing: as long as the herbivores were finding enough lysine, the carnivores would ingest it through consuming them. The failsafe mechanism of the lysine contingency ended up being just about useless, as far as Gerry was concerned.
It was so simple in hindsight. How could they have missed this? What were they thinking? They should've done a proper inventory of lysine-rich flora on the island. In fact... hadn't the chief geneticist, Dr. Henry Wu, rubbished that idea, years ago? It was almost as though Wu didn't wa-
Gerry heard an unforgettable roar: a chilling, thunderous sound he'd thought he would never hear again. He heard the call of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. The roar grew louder as it reverberated inside the tank. He could almost see the gigantic beast approaching, through the awful strength of sound alone.
"Fire in the hole!" Lopez shouted from above. A pulsating explosion rang out, and he heard one final call of the Rex. Silence won for a moment, then Lopez's laughter echoed throughout the tank. Gerry climbed the ladder and saw a stunning, once-in-lifetime sight: the king of the dinosaurs, the T-Rex, fleeing in panic away from the tank.
His eyes panned to the side and spotted a horrendous scene: a dismembered, defeated corpse of a stegosaurus, its body parts scattered about the ground a few hundred yards away. Smoke, fire and ash rose from its remains, a sacrificial lamb of a lost epoch, killed for nothing but pleasure and curiosity, by the wicked will of man. He leaned over to vomit. Not all of it missed the tank.
Gerry crawled back inside and sat back down. He began to cry. Tears streamed down his face. He wanted out of this. He wanted to be back home. He wanted his life back.
Ruiz jolted toward him, pressing his gun against his cheek, just like he had back home. "Where are the raptors, Gerry! Where are the goddamn raptors! Give them to me, Gerry! I swear to God, I'll kill you! I'll kill you, do you understand me!"
Somehow, out of some instinctual reflex buried within, Gerry belted out what would prove to be the correct answer: "the reserve paddock! The old velociraptor paddock! That's the only place they could be!"
Ruiz drew the gun away, and placed it back into the holster on his belt. Gerry's words surprised even himself. The adrenaline of the moment had awakened his mind, in ways he didn't know were possible.
The eggs probably were in the old raptor paddock. The raptors must've bred before being transported to their new paddock, for safety concerns, after they had been testing the fences for weaknesses. That would explain why the eggs had gone undetected; there was no reason to carefully inspect what the team had assumed was an abandoned paddock.
From the wheel, Garner studied the park map as he drove - not unlike a father looking for a gas station while en route to a theme park with his family. And like a child confined to the backseat, Gerry Harding fought back tears - if for no reason other than he didn't know what else he could possibly do.
Gerry stared blankly at the dark, metallic floor beneath him. He didn't want to think anymore. He didn't want to do anything but turn off his brain and wait for this all to be over. So, that's what the veterinarian did.
He felt a hand shake his shoulder. He snapped out of some half-awake, hypnotized state. "We're here," a voice said. Ruiz, the Costa Rican. "Find me the newborn raptors," Ruiz commanded. How long had it been? It had felt like only a moment had passed. But as he followed Ruiz out of the tank, he realized that they'd made it to the old raptor paddock.
"This is extremely dangerous," Gerry warned. "We know," Lopez replied, holding an AK-47 in her arms. "More dangerous than that," Gerry stated. "We know," Garner responded, also wielding a machine gun of some kind - Gerry couldn't recognize the make. "Still more dangerous," the veterinarian said. "We know," Ruiz replied, displaying his own automatic weapon that Gerry hadn't even noticed was strapped around his shoulder.
Gerry felt a little safer, he supposed. But just a little.
"The newborns will be hidden. The adults won't keep them in an easily discoverable location. And they won't leave their side for long. I don't know how we'll find them - let alone, live long enough to retrieve them."
As they trekked, Gerry noticed something in a patch of jungle ahead. The sight was unmistakable: he could see the deadly, reptilian eyes of a raptor. They were being hunted.
"They're here," Gerry whispered softly.
"I see it," Lopez affirmed.
"They'll come from the side. The one in front of us is a distraction," Gerry said.
Just then, two raptors darted out from either side of them. Ruiz and Garner fired their automatic weapons, unleashing an endless torrent of bullets into the birds of prey. They fell to the ground.
As Gerry breathed a sigh of relief, the raptor from the front pounced on top of him. He felt its horrid, fleshy breath as the creature's head snapped and lunged toward him. He heard a constant stream of firing as time seemed to stand still. The raptor took out a good chunk of his chest in a single bite.
Gerry Harding had the presence of mind to realize he was being eaten alive. He somehow had time to reflect on his life before it would soon end. He felt the pain wrought by the snarling jaw of the raptor as it ripped him open. That was life, and life was pain.
The veterinarian awoke in a cold sweat. Where was he? It took his eyes and mind a minute to recalibrate. As soon as he came to, he jumped back in his bed, yelping in pain and doing everything he could to escape the jaws of the raptor. But the raptor wasn't there.
"It's quite alright how, Mr. Harding," an unfamiliar, yet warm voice said.
Gerry looked up to see a large and confident figure before him, dressed in a dark brown suit that looked as though it cost considerably more than the veterinarian's own education.
"My name is Sebastian Flores. Welcome to my home."
"Why... why am I here?" Gerry asked helplessly.
Sebastian smiled. "You're here to help raise my babies, of course. They'll need a good doctor."
Sebastian whistled, and three juvenile raptors, no more than a month old, by Gerry's estimation, jumped onto his bed. The veterinarian was too startled to scream. He knew he should be scared, but his reflexes just weren't working. One of the young raptors came right up to Gerry, and as the memory of the raptor eating him alive flashed back, he felt the wet tongue of a slobbering baby. The raptor was licking him.