~ Isla Sorna, August 8th, 2014 ~
Bobby Singer thought it had been unbearably hot in the Kenyan summers, sun beating down on the dry savannah grass like God holding a magnifying glass to that particular swathe of land. He thought he'd been through the worst that heat could offer, a heat that sucked everything dry, left the grass dry and the animals thirsty enough to brave the few sources of water remaining.
He realized how wrong he was the first day he stepped off the helicopter and into the oppressive, pea-soup thick heat of Costa Rica.
It clung to every thread of his clothing, making the light cloth feel ten times heavier against his skin and damp at almost all hours. If he wasn't careful about washing everything out often enough, the scent of mildew quickly became unbearable. Not that anyone was going to complain; everyone here was going through the same motions, trying to adjust to the almost foreign atmosphere of the thick rainforest on the island. Some had been here longer than others, and Bobby and Rufus longer than most.
Not that they taught the new guys all their tricks; it was kind of vindicating to see the cocky newcomers suffer as much as they had.
Rufus was obviously at the end of a long day of work. It was easy to tell, with the blotches of sweat darkening the collar and underarms of his tan shirt, the marks of a day spent toiling outside in the South American heat. The dark-skinned man had his hat in his hand, fanning himself with it as if it would help any; they both knew it wouldn't. Even with the sun close to the horizon, the heat was still stifling. His Hannibal rifle sat across his lap, loaded with .577 Tyrannosaur bullets, enough to stop an elephant in its tracks.
It probably still wasn't enough for some of the things that were behind the tall electric fences.
"I don't like this," Rufus muttered, probably the fourth or fifth time he'd said it since they'd settled down on this fallen log to wait. Bobby just scoffed, leaning his own gun against the log with a careful respect for the prized possession.
"We done over a dozen rehearsals, it ain't gettin' any better," he said, leaning forward and setting his elbows on his knees as he watched the other workers mill around. Many of them didn't even speak English, something that Bobby had always been nervous about- no matter how cautious they were, miscommunications couldn't happen. Just couldn't. Not here.
"Gabe said with his systems we'd never have to get within a dozen feet of the carnivores," Rufus continued, as if he hadn't even heard Bobby speak. "And this is the third time we've had to move the Utahs to a new enclosure. 'Bout time we just shot them all dead. Can't keep upgrading their accommodations every time they get a claw through the fence."
Bobby shrugged, but he was inclined to agree. The Utahraptors were nine feet of hide thick as a crocodiles, claws that could split bone open like butter, and a mouth full of teeth made to tear through muscle. Of course, they had plenty of animals like that on this island- the problem was, the Utahs were smart. More clever even than the Deinonychus and their teamwork, or the Compys and their evasive cunning. The Utahs knew their advantages, and they were getting to know their enemy.
Getting to know them a little too quickly.
The first cage, they'd underestimated the raptors climbing abilities. The slatted metal gates at the end of the enclosure ended up being a convenient ladder, and only the quick thinking shot of a smart handler had prevented an escape.
Of course, that handler was then fired for destroying company property. Gabriel gave them all dart guns and the Hannibals, but they were under strict orders to only use the dart guns unless there was a dinosaur presently trying to gnaw off their arm. Too expensive to do another cloning, too much money spent on the potent, proprietary growth hormones; it was very obvious that the millions that went into each dinosaur here were worth much more than the life of a handler or two.
They'd been lucky thus far. Even when the raptors managed to find a weakness in the second enclosure's fence, they'd managed to catch on to the situation before there was an actual escape. And now here they were, the third transport of the raptors to a new, more secure home. Each raptor had been heavily sedated and moved to individual containers, specially made to be transported by truck to the new enclosure, one at a time.
It didn't help Bobby's anxiety that the move had been delayed due to concerns about the container latches. The raptors were supposed to be just waking up when they were moved, still drowsy and disoriented. But with the delay, they now had seven containers of fully awake raptors to move, and the head of the project refused to consider a delay to try and sedate them all again. The rehearsals were foolproof, he said. It wouldn't make a difference how awake the animal was.
Bobby had a gut feeling that he was wrong. At the same time, he didn't have the authority to call off the move, leaving them in this less than ideal situation.
"I swear, even one claw comes out of that container and I'm gonna start blowin' lizard heads off. Don't care if they're 20 million a pop," Rufus said, setting his hat back on his head and moving his other hand to grip his gun. Bobby didn't try to talk him out of it. Wouldn't do any good.
"So long as everyone sticks to the program, we can pull this off," he said, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself of it more than convince Rufus. Rufus just snorted.
There was the rumble of the truck coming down the narrow path and someone yelling in Spanish, and the workers who had been waiting among the trees now moved closer to the side of the road. Bobby took a deep breath and stood up, grabbing his gun and slinging the strap over his shoulder. Rufus stood up next to him, batting insistent mosquitoes away from his face as they stepped past ferns the size of Volkswagens to get to the side of the well-worn road.
The rumble slowed, and the back-up tone started to signal as the truck backed down the short path to the gates. The gates to the new enclosure were massive, made out of solid steel almost a foot thick, heavy latches for the container to each side of the hydraulic door that would lift once everything was hooked up.
"Keep going! Yes, yes, a little more…there, stop!" the project head called out, his accent thick as he halted the truck about a foot from the gate. This was what they'd rehearsed, the series of calls and procedure coming next, though Bobby's job in this move was easy; stand by and be ready to shoot, while fully aware that he would lose his job the second he pulled the trigger. He wasn't bothering with a dart gun- he would leave that to all the other bleeding hearts standing around working security. He would be the last line of defense, and more than willing to pull the trigger on one of these animals if anything went south.
"Lower!" the project head called out, and the truck gave a hiss as the container lowered to ground level, flush with the giant tires supporting the payload. Now, with the container on their level, Bobby could see movement inside- just shadows, given that the sun had nearly set, but the floodlights above the gate occasionally lit up a swatch of brownish-green hide, or the shine of a wide green eye, pupil down to a slit in the flash of light.
Bobby had been this close before, but he still felt his pulse speed up, his heart hammering slightly harder against his ribs as he caught the creature's eye. It was only for a moment, the creature pacing the container unhappily, but it was enough to give him a chill. Then the raptor was moving again, the thud-click of every step loud on the metal container floor. Foot, claw. Foot, claw.
Before this, he'd thought the scariest thing he'd ever see was that hippo coming at his jeep full-tilt, bellowing and flashing massive ivory teeth. Now, being on this island, that same hippo seemed like an angry housecat.
"Bring it on back!" the project head yelled to the driver, and the truck began to inch its way backward, closing the distance until there was the metallic thud of the container pressing against the gate. There was a violent, guttural hiss from inside the container, and more than one man stumbled or jumped back from it.
Bobby just tightened his grip on his gun, feeling the sweat dripping down his back, plastering his shirt uncomfortably to his skin.
"Close the latches!"
Two men moved forward like clockwork, one on each side of the gate, pulling down massive metal bars and slotting them into the brackets on the side of the container. The hinges were folded around the brackets, and the men each yanked hard at the bars, making sure they were set into place, holding the gateway and the container together without a millimeter to spare.
With that done, they moved back and gave a thumbs up to the project head, who called out for the container door team. Three men moved forward, gripping the side of the container door facing the gate and slowly sliding it out, the metal grinding and leaving a deep groove in the dirt. Once the door was pulled free, they stepped back and signaled to the project head as well.
Now all they had to do was open the gateway, and if the past could be trusted, the raptor would eagerly run from the dark container into the trees and brush of its new enclosure.
"Prepare the gate!" the project head yelled, and Rufus gave the container a sour look before moving to the ladder at the back of it. He climbed to the top, where the metal was solid and thick, and walked to the front where the gate sat closed. He threw open one latch, then the other, then put his hand on the heavy black lever, waiting for his cue to start the hydraulics to pull the gate up.
"Open gate, all hands ready!"
Rufus pulled carefully and slowly on the lever, the gate hissed and began to rise, and then everything went to shit.
There was a sudden loud pop, like one of the guns had gone off, but then a rip and an even louder hiss than the hydraulics followed. The whole truck tilted violently to one side, sending workers scattering, though Bobby held his position- he knew it couldn't tip over entirely.
He saw a flash of claw before the realization set in- the raptor had clawed a huge tear in the sidewall of the tire beside the container. The metal of the latches groaned and broke free, not made to support the full weight of the container and the leaning truck, and the container dragged through the dirt to the side, pulled by the weight of the truck as it tilted.
Bobby saw Rufus fall, and he was running to the gate before the man even hit the dirt, ignoring the yells and panicked orders being flung around. He got there, seemingly, just as the raptor did- he grabbed onto one of Rufus's hands just as the man let out a piercing scream, and was nearly yanked free of Bobby's grip.
"Shoot it!" Bobby yelled, but the men were already on that, at least three darts being fired through the gaps in the container. Darts that would take a few minutes to set in. They didn't have a few minutes; Bobby got a better grip on Rufus's arms, the man's legs hidden by the shadow inside the container doorway, but Bobby could feel the raptor pulling. Rufus was screaming, a brutal, agonized sound, his voice breaking with each new pull of the raptor's teeth.
"The rifles! Shoot it! Fuckin' shoot it!" Bobby yelled, unable to get to his own gun without letting go of Rufus, and that wasn't an option. People were screaming about moving the truck, dropping the gates, but no guns went off. No one would fire, not when no one could even tell what was going on, not with their jobs on the line.
Rufus had stopped screaming by the time the raptor leapt forward, finally coming into Bobby's line of vision as it dug its claws into its twitching kill. It snapped its jaws at Bobby, barely a few inches from his face, and the hunter fell backward as a foul scent of rotting flesh and the tinny scent of fresh blood hit him. He was being dragged away, then, hands grabbing at his arms as he tried to get back to Rufus, even if it was too late, even if the sleepy raptor was digging its teeth in, the clear crunch and grind of teeth on spinal cord somehow heard even over the yelling.
He stopped fighting the worker's hold when the raptor looked back up at him, eyes focused right on his- and if Bobby didn't know better, he would have thought the creature was taunting him, Rufus's blood bright red on its snout.
~ San Jose, August 10th, 2014 ~
The only reason she sat outside was because the inside of the tiny restaurant was obnoxiously decorated; Ruby didn't want to be bombarded by bright pink and yellow lights while she ate, especially not when the floor was black and white checkered and the tables and chairs red and white. It felt like she'd damage her retinas if she spent too much time inside.
So even though the heat was still a bit much for her liking, she sat outside at one of the small tables under the red canopy emblazoned with the words "Soda Tapia", next to a Coca-Cola label which was nearly just as large. The canopy did little more than block out a little of the midday sun; shade didn't do much good, not around here.
She sipped at her drink impatiently, checking her watch more than once until she saw a familiar face over the crowd, the man sticking out like a sore thumb. Even back in the States he would have stood out, with his height, his pale skin and sunken cheeks, and the intense look on his face.
"Hey, Alistair!" she called out, lifting a hand to wave at him, and she could nearly feel as well as see the intensity of the glare he shot at her as he made his way over to the table and slid into one of the chairs.
"You really think that's a good idea, idiot girl? This city is where all of Novak's workers come when they're off the island, and you want them to know just who you're sitting down to lunch with?" he said, the nasal, slimy tone of his voice making her skin crawl even more than it did over the phone. She shrugged and went back to sipping at her drink, undeterred by his anger, and unwilling to show her discomfort and give him the edge.
"They don't care. Half of them don't even speak English, and none of them know or care who you are. Don't get a big head, you're just a messenger," she said, looking pointedly at the backpack and briefcase that he set beside his chair. "Did you bring them?"
Alistair paused for a moment, staring at her as if he expected her to wither under his gaze, like most others would; unfortunately for him, Ruby wasn't most others. Her dark eyes continued to focus on him expectantly, waiting until he finally rolled his eyes and opened the backpack. He tugged a white paper bag from it and held it out with two fingers, as if it contained something overtly disgusting.
To Ruby, it was worth a whole damn lot, and part of her payment, too. She grabbed the bag and opened it as quickly as she could, and nearly moaned when she reached into it and plucked out a golden French fry.
"Do you know how hard it is to find quality, real French fries around here?" she asked around the first bite, leaning back in her chair and savoring the taste. Alistair ignored her question, his expression doing little to hide his disdain as he waited for her to finish mooning over a bag of fried food.
"How does it feel, anyway? To know you've got nearly a billion dollars worth in technology and research riding on one woman?" she said around the second fry, giving Alistair a grin, soaking in the power she held at this moment. It was intoxicating, knowing that she had an entire company basically serving her hand and foot to keep her happy enough to make deals.
In response, Alistair just sneered, reaching down and lifting the briefcase onto the table, dropping it with a thud that made people at nearby tables jump in surprise. Ruby licked the salt from her fingers before leaning forward, trailing one hand across the leather of the case.
"I wouldn't open that here, little lady. Your advance, one point two five million. You'll get two million more for every embryo that makes it off that island and to our labs intact and viable," he said, keeping his voice low as she pulled the briefcase into her lap, her smile widening.
"Believe me, I'll get you the embryos. You worry about your end of the deal."
"What's your plan? Novak's no idiot, I'm sure he has security that will make the White House look like a daycare."
"Security that I designed and that I run. Don't you worry, I have an eighteen minute window. Eighteen minutes of complete security and communications blackout. I'll be off the island before they've even figured out I ran the program," Ruby said, crossing her legs as she set the briefcase by her feet. "Eighteen minutes, and everything that Novak has developed will be in your hands. Since you couldn't buy Tran off him."
"Tran doesn't even know what he signed up for," Alistair snapped, a hint of bitterness in his tone. "Novak plucked him right from the PhD program, spoiled him with a team and a lab complex, and the boy thinks he has it made. Novak's no better than us; he's not in this for the science. He'll stop caring about Tran the second he's wrung the boy's mind dry."
Ruby laughed, waving off a waiter who paused to offer her a refill. "Jealous," she said, raising her eyebrows at Alistair. "You just wish you'd seen his dissertation sooner and gotten to him first."
"It would have made things…so much simpler. But either way, we'll skip the catch up."
"Cheat, you mean," Ruby taunted, popping another fry into her mouth and watching the man thoughtfully. "They said you were bringing me a way to get the embryos to the mainland preserved…?"
Alistair nodded once, reaching again into his backpack, this time pulling out a pink can of ladies shaving cream and setting it on the table. Ruby arched an eyebrow before picking it up, surprised at the weight of it as she turned it over delicately in her hands.
"Twist the bottom," he said, and she turned it upright and gripped the bottom, the can emitting a low hiss as she did. The outer metal skin of the can slid off, revealing two slender, circular racks, made for holding the tiny test tubes the embryos were kept in, eight slots on each row.
"Clever. I'm impressed."
"Try using it."
She gave him a skeptical look, but then slid the can back together, took the lid off, and pressed the tab on the top down- white shaving cream filled her hand, just as if it were a normal can of shaving cream. "I'm very impressed," she added, leaning over to plop the white cream down on top of a piece of pie on a nearby dessert tray.
"Get this done right, Ruby. If we go down, you're going down with us," Alistair said, the threat clear in his voice- he obviously didn't mean just in the court system, and she knew it. She wouldn't doubt for a second that they would simply have her killed if she fell through on this.
It didn't bother her, because she wasn't going to fail. She'd worked too hard on this, and put too much into the fantastic 'retirement plan' for when she disappeared after this was over. All gambling debts and loans paid, money piled up high in some foreign bank, and a new identity; she would be free to do whatever she wanted.
And it didn't hurt that she would be taking Gabriel Novak down a few notches in the process. That bastard would regret every snide comment and every time he turned her down for a raise.
"Don't you worry. You just have your guy at the docks at the agreed upon time. I'll handle the rest, and you'll get your dinosaurs," she said, frowning at the mostly empty bag of French fries. She looked up at Alistair again, raising her eyebrows with a smirk.
"Oh, and have your guy bring some more of these. Don't get cheap on me, Alistair."