- - CHAPTER 1: Monster In A Box - -


JUNGLE NIGHT

An eyeball, big, yellowish, distinctly inhuman with its slit-like pupil, stares raptly between metal slates, part of a large crate of some kind. The eye darts from side to side, alert as hell.

JUNGLE NIGHT

The late jungle night is dark and moist but the tropical air is crisp and is beginning to cool down from the intense jungle heat. It's quiet for a second.

A ROAR rises up from the jungle, deafening. The trees RATTLE, THUDDING and SHAKING against each other as something very, very large plows ahead through them, right at us!

We get a view of every head gathered in this little clearing. They're all wearing an orange hard hat with a strange logo and a blue jumpsuit with a shoulder patch that also has the same logo. Over the blue jumpsuit they wear a black vest.

The logo consists of a red circle. Over the red circle is the head, arms, and upper spine of a black Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton. Horizontally over the middle of it all is a black box that says "JURASSIC PARK" in all white. The outside of the logo is outlined in black, which is outlined in yellow. Around the logo are the words 'Security'.

The heads all SNAP, turning in the direction of the sound as it BURSTS through the trees.

It's a forklift!

In its fork, it holds a Quarantine Pen. There are ladders on both sides and the back of the cage, the two side ladders near its front, to allow workers to climb to the top. From here, the Quarantine Pen can be opened by pulling a slate-like gate up, much like a factory shutter. The rest of the sides where the ladders aren't located are criss-crossing metal slates, going horizontal and vertical, which leave rectangular spaces between each other. At the bottom of the cage are small wheels, at the edges.

The forklift moves toward an impressive fenced structure that towers over an enclosed section of thick jungle. There's a guard tower at the far end of this holding pen that makes it look like San Quentin.

As the forklift approaches the men and the building, a foreman SHOUTS orders.

Everybody, heads up! Heads up! Keep it clear!

Keep it clear! Okay, down!

Another man SHOUTS the same orders in Spanish.

¡Andale, si! Vámonos.

A legend tries to place us - -

Isla Nublar - 120 Miles West Of Costa Rica - 1993

- - but to us it's still the middle of nowhere.

Mark it down! There you go!

The forklift comes to a concrete slab in front of the holding pen.

That's good, stay! Slow it down. The foreman said to the driver.

The concrete slab has small trenches which lead to a door as big as the end of the Quarantine Pen, which leads into the enclosure. This must be where the Quarantine Pen wheels go.

¡No lo vayan tirar! ¡Cuidado!

¡Tráigala, Tráigala!

The forklift lowers its fork and the Quarantine Pen THUDS TO THE CONCRETE, its wheels falling into perfect alignment with the trenches.

Nobody moves for a second. A grim-faced man who seems to be in charge shouts steps forward.

He's dressed in a safari uniform: a light grey, short-sleeve, button-up neatly tucked into khaki shorts which are secured by a brown belt, a khaki vest, and a safari hat. He holds a Franchi SPAS-12.

He has an ID card with the same logo hanging from the breast pocket of his khaki vest.

Following closely behind him is Ed Regis, mid-thirties, head of Public Relations, currently on sight as a representative.

Alright now, pushers move in! Loading team move it!

The same worker SHOUTS the orders in spanish. Several men jog up to the Quarantine Pen and grab hold of several handles along the side. The man gives out orders to the remaining men.

I want cattle prods readied!

The movement has agitated whatever is inside the Quarantine Pen, and the whole thing shivers as GROWLS and SNAPS come from inside. Everyone moves back.

Alright, steady! Steady! Go on, step back in! Don't let her know you're afraid! The man said as Ed Regis watches from nearby.

The men go back to the Quarantine Pen and begin to push it into the slot.

FROM INSIDE THE QUARANTINE PEN,

we get glimpses of what's on the other side of those metal slates - - jungle foliage, the Jurassic Park Security carrying Colt M16A2s or Electric Cattle Prods, searchlights.

In the crowd we glimpse six people who don't look like everyone else. They wear green and black camouflage outfits, like those used in the military but the camouflage is in blobs instead of pixelation. Black bulletproof vests, holding numerous rounds of ammunition, Motorola Saber UHF radios, first aid kits, sealed food packs, and any other personal items that are approved. Like military outfits, their camouflage pants are tucked into black steel-toe boots.

The green and black camouflage outfits have the Jurassic Park logo on it's sleeves. Around the logo are the words 'Emergency Response Unit'

They have black backpacks, which have a sleeping bag hooked to the bottom by two straps, a Basic Ridge Tent hooked to the top by two straps, and a HydroFlask in both side pockets. Telling by the looks of it, they backpacks are CRAMMED with stuff.

The first man, by looking at the name tag stitched to his bulletproof vest, is named Pedro Joseph Adame. He's mid-twenties, a mexicano with a skin tone slightly lighter than moreno, and has a well-built body, like that of a ranchero. He carries a 1992 M24 Sniper Rifle. A sheathed 1992 Ka-Bar, an Electric Cattle Prod and a holstered 1992 Beretta 92 Brigadier are strapped to his belt.

The second one, by looking at the name tag stitched to his bulletproof vest, is named Blaine Yokom. He's mid-twenties, caucasian, athletic-looking and grim-faced. He too carries a 1992 M24 Sniper Rifle. A sheathed 1992 Ka-Bar, an Electric Cattle Prod and a holstered 1992 Beretta 92 Brigadier are strapped to his belt.

The third one, by looking at the name tag stitched to his bulletproof vest, is named Robert Swartz. He's mid-twenties, german, muscular and mottled with smears of soot. He carries a Colt M16A2. An Electric Cattle Prod is strapped to his belt.

The fourth one, by looking at the name tag stitched to his bulletproof vest, is named Scott Swartz. He's mid-twenties, german, and very cheery in a childish manner. His camouflage outfit, like everyone else, has the Jurassic Park Emergency Response Unit logo. Though, unlike everyone else, instead of saying 'Emergency Response Unit', it says 'Emergency Response Unit Veterinary Services'. He carries a Colt M16A2. An Electric Cattle Prod is strapped to his belt. This man, telling by his camouflage outfit, is a veterinarian, which would make him Dr. Scott Swartz.

The fifth one, by looking at the name tag stitched to his bulletproof vest, is named John Swartz. He's mid-twenties, german and smart-looking. He carries a Colt M16A2. An Electric Cattle Prod is strapped to his belt.

The sixth one, the only female of the group, by looking at the name tag stitched to her bulletproof vest, is named Erica Morgan Ayala. She's mid-twenties, a light-skin mexicana, her long, curly brown hair flows down to her mid-back, she's one of those who don't need and don't wear makeup because their already beautiful. Her camouflage outfit, like everyone else, has the Jurassic Park Emergency Response Unit logo. Though, unlike everyone else, instead of saying 'Emergency Response Unit', it says 'Emergency Response Unit Doctoral Services'. She carries a Colt M16A2. An Electric Cattle Prod is strapped to her belt. This woman, telling by her camouflage outfit, is a doctor, which would make her Dr. Erica Ayala.

Jurassic Park ID cards are also hanging from their bulletproof vest pockets.

The Quarantine Pen THUDS UP AGAINST THE OPENING. A green light, that was previously red, on the side of the enclosure lights up, showing contact has been made.

Well locked! Loading team, step away!

The pushers, glad to be away from the Quarantine Pen, retreat back into the crowd.

Gatekeeper! The man shouted.

Joffrey, a dark skinned man, moves forward and climbs to the top of the Quarantine Pen. The searchlights are trained on the door.

The riflemen throw the bolts on their Electric Cattle Prods, sending arcs of current CRACKING through the air.

Joffrey, raise the gate! The man shouted.

The worker CROUCHES and grabs the gate. Its halfway up when all at once - -

- - a SCREAM from inside the Quarantine Pen, and the animal charges the back of the cage, bending the metal slates and pushing the cage back out! Several men run forward, in an attempt to stop the Quarantine Pen, but are only buffeted backward!

The panel flies out of the workers hands and SMACKS into him, knocking him clear off the Quarantine Pen! The worker THUDS to the dirt floor, an alarm BUZZER sounds - -

- - and a claw SLASHES out from inside the Quarantine Pen. It sinks into the ankle of the worker, dragging him toward the dark mouth between the Quarantine Pen and the enclosure entrance. The worker SCREAMS and PAWS the dirt, leaving long claw marks as he's rapidly dragged toward the Quarantine Pen.

Ed Regis wrinkles his nose and puts an X next to Jophery Brown on the clipboard Pedro SHOUTS orders:

Está abierto! Don't let her get out! Tasers get in there, Goddamnit!

The Security and Emergency Response teams RUSH in and CRACK their Electric Cattle Prods through the metal slates - the metal of the Quarantine Pen BUZZES.

The worker grabs the edge of the Quarantine Pen entrance, but soon loses his grip. The man who seems to be in charge grabs him around the chest and begins to pull in the opposite direction to the thing inside the Quarantine Pen.

The creature inside the cage pulls, the worker is HAULED into the air and the man is thrown against the wall; he soon regains himself, re-grabs the worker and begins to pull.

The wild arcs of currents from the Electric Cattle Prods FLASH and CRACK all around, in the blue CRACKS of electricity the man is looked straight in the eye by this strange creature.

Shoot her! SHOOT HER! The man screamed.

The worker GROANS, the creature pulls him through the man's grip, gunshots RING, but in a second - -

- - the worker is gone!

MOUNTAINSIDE DAY

Another legend tries to place us:

Mano De Dios Amber Mine - Dominican Republic

Donald Gennaro, forty, in a city man's idea of hiking clothes and a hundred dollar haircut, approaches on a raft being pulled across a river by two men.

On the hillside, Juan Rostagno, thirty-ish, Costa Rican, a smart-looking guy in workers clothes, is waiting for him.

Apuesto mil pesos que se cae. He said.

Gennaro finally lands, and Rostagno helps him off the raft.

Hola, Juanito. Donald Gennaro said.

Hola, Bienvenido. Juan Rostagno replied.

Rostagno leads Gennaro towards the mine. Dozens of workers CLAW and SCRAPE. The work is all done by hand, pick and shovel instead of dynamite and bulldozer.

What's this I hear at the airport, Hammond's not even here? Gennaro said.

He sends his apologies.

You're telling me that we're facing a $20 million lawsuit from the family of that killed worker and Hammond couldn't even be bothered to see me?

He had to leave early to be with his daughter. She's getting a divorce.

I'm sorry to hear that. We'd be well advised to deal with this situation now. The insurance company - -

Gennaro slips on some uneven rocks and almost falls, Rostagno helps him up.

- - the underwriters of the park feel the accident raises some very serious questions about the safety of the park, and they're making the investors very anxious. I had to promise I would conduct a thorough on-site inspection. Gennaro continued.

Rostagno stops. Gennaro stops too.

Hammond hates inspections. They slow everything down.

Juanito, if they pull the funding, that will really slow things down.

A worker hurries up to them and busts into the conversation, breathless.

He looks to Rostagno

Jefe, encontramos otro mosquito, en el mismo sitio.

¿Seguro? ¡Muéstrame! Rostagno said

The worker and Rostagno scramble toward the mine. Rostagno calls back over his shoulder to Gennaro.

It seems like it's going to be a good day after all. They found another one! C'mon.

Gennaro struggles to keep up.

CAVE DAY

As Rostagno and Gennaro enter the mine, several miners are busy at work, chipping away at the rock walls, pushing minecarts, and various other tasks.

Gennaro clumsily hits his head on a wooden beam. He winces in pain.

Watch your head. Rostagno said.

If two experts…sign off on the island, the insurance guys will back off. I already got Dr. Ian Malcolm, but they think he's too trendy. They want Dr. Alan Grant.

Grant? You'll never get him out of Montana.

Rostagno and Gennaro move farther into the dark, dripping cave, where at least a dozen other workers are gathered in a tight circle, staring at something intently.

Rostagno fights his way to the center of the group. A miner finishes grinding a chunk of rock against a belt sander and hands it to Rostagno.

It's a chunk of amber, a shiny yellow rock about the size of a half dollar.

Luz, más luz… Rostagno said to himself

Why not? Gennaro questioned, still on the earlier tangent.

Muchachos échenme luz! Rostagno called out to his men.

Several men appear behind Rostagno, shining their hard hat lights on him.

Because he's like me…He's a digger. Rostagno finally answered.

He turns and holds the amber up to the light.

With the light pouring through it, the amber is translucent, and we can see something inside this strange stone - -

- - a huge mosquito, long dead, entombed there.

Rostagno smiles.

Hay qué lindó eres. Vas hacer a mucho gente feliz.