JURASSIC PARK 4
PROLOGUE:
"Mayday! Mayday!" the pilot hollered into the radio. "We're going down! I repeat we're going down!"
The screams of the passengers were easily heard. The copilot made no sound. His limp and partially burned body sat motionless in the chair. Smoke rose from the controls. On one side a fire burned, on the other sparks flickered. The side where the copilot sat an explosion had occurred, knocking him out, soon sparks had caused a blaze to flare up, burning his body. Soon two engines caught fire. The pilot tried radioing the closest airport, but the radios wouldn't work. Static was the only thing anyone could hear.
Soon he realized it was a hopeless effort, instead of trying to contact civilization, he should be figuring out how to get out of this hopeless wreck.
The peaceful trip over the beautiful island of Isla Sorna had become a catastrophe of terror over an island of death.
In the back the passengers toppled over each other. Some crying, some grabbing others, and others fighting and cursing. In the back the passengers toppled over each other. They yelled. They banged on the windows. They tried to pry open the door, but the safety program had jammed it. The only way to unjam it was up in the control room.
Up in the control room the pilot thought of a way to save the passengers and
Himself. He looked down. Below he saw the Pacific Ocean and the island. If they crashed in the ocean the waves would savagely tear them apart. Everyone would drown. If they crashed on the island the collision would kill them. He looked at the island hoping for some source of water, a pond, river, or anything. At first he saw nothing then out of the corner of his eyes he saw a river emerged into the side of a ravine. One side a dense jungle, the other a ravine with small greenish looking dots. At first the pilot thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, until they started to move a little. He thought what could they be. They were too big to be rhinos but not quite big enough for elephants. He kept wondering until the plane shook violently. Then his mind was back on where to crash.
He searched for the river again. Once he found it he estimated about how much time until they crashed. He thought only a minute or two. If he could somehow steer the plane towards the river he could crash in it, but what if the river wasn't deep enough. It would be like crashing into the ground! He tried concentrating but couldn't! The screams kept haunting him! The crash haunted him! Everything haunted him! Then he screamed! He focused as hard as he could. Then he punched the controls.
"This is just stupid bullshit!" he yelled. "I don't care if I die!"
He grabbed the control stick and forced it forward! He kicked the pedals! The plane sped down towards the river. The velocity was mind boggling. There was only seconds left before impact! Then suddenly he jerked the control stick backwards!
The passengers fell backwards to the end of the plane. It was almost vertical when the end collided into the riverbed. It wasn't near deep enough, four feet at most. Everyone screamed in pain as they fell on each other. Some knocked out from hitting their heads. The end of the plane scrapped the bottom until it hit the side of the river. It fell onto its stomach, but didn't stop. It continued at amazing speeds colliding into tree after tree. Sometimes boulders. It slowly lost speed, but didn't stop for at least another 200 yards, when it hit a huge boulder, throwing bodies through the windows and holes in the side from the tree's. The screams died. Not a sound filled the air, except startled birds.
As the summer sun set onto fallen leaves, a man in a Hawaiian shirt and cacky shorts lounged in his backyard, enjoying a cool glass of lemonade. It was unseasonably warm for the last few days of summer, and it hadn't rained in over a week. The man was happy to see the summer come to an end. He hated hot weather unless he had asked for it. He rarely sat in his backyard not doing anything, but since the hot weather was almost over he figured he would have one last day of lounging in it.
"What a fine way to end the summer," the man said as he took another sip of his drink. "I can't think of anything that would disappoint me right now."
He laid down his glass and once again relaxed in the sun. He started to drift into a slumber when a phone started to ring. He didn't answer it until after it had rung 50 times. He really didn't want to answer it, but figured it was important if a person had the patience to let it ring 50 times. He got up and walked into his home.
He picked up the phone and, "Hello?"
"Hello is Mr. Simons there?"
"Yes, this is him. Why?"
The man on the other end waited a second and then said, "We have some bad news."
"What is it?"
"There was a plane wreck this afternoon."
At first he didn't know why they were calling him. "Was someone I knew in the wreck?"
"We believe so. Do you know a man by the name of Robert Simons?"
"Yes. He owns a," he paused. Then he realized why they called him. "a flying tourist company. He flies tourist over certain places."
"We believe he wrecked while giving a tour over five islands off the coast of Costa Rica."
"How did they crash?" That wasn't really the question he wanted to ask. But he didn't want to find out the chances of survival. He had already guessed they weren't good.
"We're not sure. We got the distress signal, but their radios wouldn't work, so we couldn't ask what had happened."
"Wha.. what are the chances of survival."
"We're not sure right now."
He knew he was lying. "Tell me!" he said frustrated.
"Well not good."
"Damn it tell me now I can handle it!" He practically yelled.
"Very low, like a few percent."
"Damn!"
"I'm very sorry. Unless you what me to answer a few questions I'll leave you alone."
"No I don't have any questions, except could I go with you when you go look for survivors?"
"Well can't go look until we get permission by the owner of the island."
"When will that be?"
"A week or two because the person who owns it just got sued and isn't letting anyone on the island because that's the reason he was sued."
"What do you mean. Why is someone suing him?"
"Well recently a team of people went there and some of them were killed."
"By what?"
"Well, no one will say."
"Who was on the team?"
"A paleontologist named Richard Levine, a mathematician named Ian Malcolm, a field biologist named Sarah Harding, two kids, and a college professor named Jack Thorne."
"So they're suing him."
"Yes."
"Do you know where I could get a hold of one?"
"Yes I do."
"Will you tell me?"
"Yes."
As the man told him the number he wrote it down.
"Thanks. That's all I need thank you. Good-bye."
"Good-bye."