The Point of No Return

Adopted from 'Monsters-Need-Love-Too'.

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Chapter Two

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Timeline:

1992: The events of the first Jurassic Park.
1993: Hurricane Clarrissa hits Isla Sorna, all staff are forced to evacuate, Doctor Laura Sorkin (Game character) releases all the dinosaurs into the wild in order to give them a chance of survival. This includes three of the four unlisted breeding experiments, the Spinosaurus, the Troodons, and the aquatic Tylosaurus. The flying Pteranodon was deemed too dangerous to release into the wild and remained within the Aviary.
1994: Harry crash lands on the island with Cedric's body. Takes his wand, buries the body, and begins his battle for survival.
1997: The events of Jurassic Park 2. This happens during the Summer (as guessed by the scenes of San Diego). Events that took place on the island lasted... three to four days, I believe.
2001: The events of Jurassic Park 3. This is a two day adventure.

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Eric Kirby didn't think he had ever been so terrified before in his life as he threw his arms up to shield his face, branches whipping across his legs and body as they crashed through the jungle canopy. He didn't think Ben even realised the true ramifications of what this meant. He was a good guy, fun, and he made his mom happy, but he wasn't too bright when it came to thinking about the consequences of stuff. Like being trapped on an island of dinosaurs with zero equipment! Not even a water bottle between them!

Did Ben even know anything about wilderness survival, he wondered as all the breath was suddenly stolen from him as they jerked to a sudden and uncomfortable stop, harness straps digging into his body – gunna have bruises as soon as he got out of this thing. Leaves and twigs rained down on them as he felt Ben's body curl protectively around his, head tucking down so his chin was resting against his head, protecting him from the worst of the walling debris.

There was a moment of silence with only the sound of disturbed leaves and branches before the distant sounds of the lethal jungle around them restarted and it felt like they could suddenly breathe again.

Eric felt weak, and sick, his whole body rubbery and trembling as he feels Ben unfold behind him, shuddering in the harness.

"Are you okay, buddy?" he gasps, there's something wrong with his voice but Eric can't figure out what, he can't even think right now. He hiccups, feeling something hot and wet streaming down his cheeks.

"I don't know. I think so," he gasped, realising almost distantly that he was crying.

"We're okay. It's going to be okay." Ben moves behind him and all Eric can see around them is littered green leaves on the floor, twigs and branches, distant mist curling at the edge of damp black volcanic soil and the smell of rotting jungle all around him. The harness shifts, jarring him back to uncomfortable reality and sending the bottom of his stomach right down to the soles of his shoes. He's going to hurl. "Here, get ready. I'm going to unhook you," Ben rasps, voice sounding strained even as Eric feels his large work roughened fingers fumble with the harness. "Alright, three, two, ONE!"

Gravity seized the twelve year old and wrenched him down to the ground, he landed hard, the shock jarring his feet all the way up to his knees as he fell forward onto his hands and knees.

He shuddered as he climbed to his feet and turned, ready to help Ben down but... there was blood pouring down his face. He hadn't noticed. Eric swallowed. "Th-the camera is still on," he says instead unable to tear his eyes away from Ben's rapidly paling face.

His hands are slow, awkward and weak as he fumbles with the machine and turns it off.

"B-ben?" he asks, voice quivering. "Ben!" he shouts as the man's head lolls on his shoulders, bobbing to the side and rolling, blood dribbling off his chin.

"We're going to get out of this, pal," he rasps even more weakly than before – even as blood bubbles up from between his lips.

A low thud and rustle of leaves catches the edge of Eric's hearing.

He turns, so fast he stumbles over his own feet and sprawls backwards onto his ass, green eyes positively bugging out of his skull as he turns, expecting to see some horrifying blood thirsty dinosaur leering at him from the bushes. He's beginning to understand why Dr Grant's second book, the one he wrote after visiting Isla Nublar, took such a negative stance on the creatures. He had yet to see one and he was terrified whitless.

His breath froze in his lungs.

A bush was looking at him. The bush had eyes. And legs. And... boots?

He blinked to clear his vision but no, the bush was still there with its eyes and legs and boots. Only, it had a spear now. Rough hewn, barkless wood with a wrap of odd scaled leather, and a steel knife blade wedged into it and tied in place. And then the bush uncurled and stood, stalking forward into the light made from the hole in the canopy they opened.

He couldn't have been older than twenty. Barely 5'3" with lean wiry muscles cording his arms and legs, scars patterning the gold tan like ash-white war-paint. Crude trousers made out of tough leather, odd chitin armour on the knees, muddy abused boots on his feet, and a net with leaves and mud and what smelt like dung was slung like a poncho over his back, a black cotton vest that looked as though it had seen a great many better days hiding his chest and stomach. Around his waist was a simple length of braided leather that a number of pouches hung from, including another steel knife and three stone knives hung from.

Intense green eyes pinned Eric to the forest floor like a butterfly under a bug-collector's needle. He didn't think eyes that colour were natural. Wild black hair twisted into matted dreadlocks hung from his head, roughly and impatiently shoved backwards and tied there with his own dreads as a thin, angular face, all sharp edges and high cheekbones, peered at the two of them sceptically, as if doubting his own eyes.

Just how long had this man been here?

The strange man stalked forward, nudging Eric's leg with the bottom of his spear, still frowning in bewildered confusion at the very sight of him. His eyes widen when he quite clearly feels the impact of the weapon and hits him again.

"Hey, ow!" the younger of the three yelped, scrambling backwards.

Those astonishing green eyes widen, "Y-you're real," he gasps, his voice rough and gravelly in a way that made Eric uncomfortable. Was this guy some kind of crazy psycho who'd gone insane from being here alone too long? He then hops back a step and squats down, looking between the two of them, "Is it... just... you two?" he asks hoarsely, glancing up between them, frowning a little at the way Ben flops a little in the harness.

Eric licks his lips, looking between his mom's boyfriend and the wild man, "J-just us. But, my mom and dad know we're here. Th-they'll send help when we don't come back!" he exclaimed desperately. His parents may not have done well together, but never in his life had they ever given him the impression that they would ever give up on him. No, he had total and utter faith that Paul and Amanda Kirby would do absolutely everything in their power, legal and not, to rescue him and Ben from this island. Even if his dad didn't like Ben – he was still a good man and would try his hardest to rescue him, because Ben made his mother happy.

The stranger nodded, as if he expected no less of his parents either. It was a little surprising, but Eric was grateful for that simple acceptance, so very few people too him seriously because of his age.

An odd look came over the man's face as he looked up at Ben. "I'm Harry. Who are you two? He asked, eyes still fixed on Ben's face, he looked to be trying to memorise it – why, Eric didn't know. But he couldn't stop the brief flush of possessive wariness that flooded him.

"I'm Eric. He's Ben. What are you doing here? How did you even get here?" he demanded swiftly, dragging Harry's attention away from Ben who was beginning to pant for breath now. What was wrong with him? Why hadn't he gotten out of the harness yet?

"Nice to meet you, Eric, Ben," the wild man rasped slowly, those green eyes studying him with just as much intensity as they had been studying Ben a moment ago. Eric flushed a little at the slight point there was to his tone, wild he may have been, but he was still polite, something he seemed to think Eric was lacking by the tone of his voice. "I live here. Kidnapped when I was not much older than you. Classmate was murdered. We escaped. Accidentally ended up here." Eric's mouth went dry, that, how? The man shrugged looking a little curious, "What year is it?" he asked in the rough snarl-like voice that Eric was beginning to think was more from just... not having anyone to talk to for so long.

"Err, 2001. July 18th, if it helps," he added as an after thought.

A queer look crossed the man's face, "Six years," he murmured before looking up at Ben, and shaking his head he then looked down at Eric, there was an odd look in his eye. As if he were trying to say something but couldn't think of the words.

"Hey," Ben rasped weakly, calling attention to himself for the first time since they arrived. Harry got to his feet, Eric, realising he was still on the ground, hastily followed suit, brushing the mud and leaf mould from his backside as he did. "Hey, Harry, I'm... I'm not good for much right now. Think you can take care of the kiddo for me? Least until his folks show up?" the man asked, his weak voice whispery and hesitant as hazy hazel brown eyes affixed themselves dizzily onto Harry's face. He would have said more but his voice crackled and failed as he coughed, blood dribbling between his lips.

Eric yelped as a rough hot hand slid over his eyes and clamped in place, smelling of herbs and dirt as he felt himself being pulled against an almost super-heated hard body. Harry smelt like earth and herbs and something bitter and pungent – it was then he remembered that he had also smeared droppings onto the bush he was wearing. Disgust reared its ugly head and he tried to squirm himself free -

Until the air was torn with the unmistakable sound of a roar.

His blood chilled to ice.

"P-protect Eric, p-please." That was Ben, his voice sounded a little clearer but it was so weak and gurgly and quiet. Not at all like the boisterous and loud and fun loving man who liked to drive down obscure leaf lined and moss split roads in random towns and villages just to see where they ended up.

The bushes moved suddenly and decisively. Harry had clearly nodded.

"I will. Do you want me to..." he trailed off, sounding hesitant.

"No. Better I... I'll provide a better distraction if I'm alive," Ben gurgled. "Go now."

He wasn't hearing this. "Ben?" he whimpered, only half aware that he was crying again even as the hand over his eyes shifted and he found himself being hauled up with almost impossible strength. Ben had certainly never been this strong! Not even the bullies in school! He twisted as he found himself being carried piggy-back on Harry's shoulders, already sprinting away from the clearing, Ben watching them depart with a distant, lazy smile.

"BEN! NO! LEMME GO! YOU CAN'T JUST LEAVE HIM THERE! BEN! BEN!" he screamed as he saw the trees shift on the other end of the clearing. Big. That was the first thing he thought when he saw the Spinosaurus. Big. And Nasty.

Ben started to wave his arms, though given his state, they mostly flopped at his sides, "Hey! H-Hey! O-over here you ugly sonuvabitch!" Ben called roughly, voice cracking and failing as he roared as loudly as he could.

No. Nononono! He wouldn't – he couldn't!

It didn't matter either way.

The Spinosaurus ignored Ben. It ignored the barely alive man and aimed for them, the prey that was running away. And gave chase.

His body went cold as he stared up at the titanic apex-predator bearing down on them, long snout reeking of blood and decay and something moist and musky, yellowing teeth still managing to catch the faint strains of light from the broken canopy to gleam menacingly as thick powerful muscle rippled under rough broken scales. Thighs like tree-trunks slamming feet the size of desks into the soft mossy jungle floor, tearing it up under rough ridged claws bigger than his head.

He could be forgiven for wetting himself in that moment as Harry sped away, far faster than a human had any right to. His legs finding purchase and his feet certain and swift. He never stumbled, or tripped, or lost his footing, even as he leapt over tree-roots

If it hadn't been for the dinosaur, he would have enjoyed the ride.

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Living with Harry was an experience and a half.

He knew his stuff though, Eric would give him that. That first day, he spent crying and railing, shouting and screaming at the wild man who took his rage with stoic silence and knowing eyes that just made him all the more angry – until finally his voice failed and his tears overwhelmed him and with more care than he thought the man capable of, he drew the distraught twelve year old into a tight hug. Smelling of herbs and earth and sweat, too hot too the touch, and full of sharp edges and hard muscle. Eric cried, and cried, and cried, until he could cry no more, until exhaustion took him.

He woke up several hours later curled up under a thermal blanket and a heavy strip of scaled leather in a large steel cage firmly set into a tree. It was approaching sunset and Harry was crouched at the other end of the cage, weaving a net out of vines. It looked surprisingly small. He would later learn that it was for him, and even though it wasn't armour, it provided him with more protection than he thought possible out of a poncho made of grass and leaves.

Harry was naturally a quiet guy, he seemed to forget sometimes that Eric was there, and at others be so hyper sensitive to him that he was dragging him away from danger before even Eric himself was aware it was there. He would point out plants as they jogged through the trees – because Harry never ever sat still or lingered anywhere if he could help it, he said it was too dangerous unless you were so high you couldn't be caught – tell him how best to combine them with other plants or animal fats in order to clean wounds, reduce fevers, ease an upset stomach, or quell a nasty headache. He learned about tracks, what tracks belonged to what, and what trails were used by what creatures. He had to laugh a little in helpless bewilderment though, Harry didn't even know the names of the dinosaurs he was describing and he still managed to survive here. He hadn't even thought to raid the InGen labs that were left behind – though upon being told that it was Raptor territory, specifically the central pack, Eric could understand his reluctance to venture there.

But that wasn't the biggest surprise Harry had for him, no, it was the simple fact that Magic existed that really threw him. Magic existed and Harry used it as easily as breathing, spelling their clothing clean so that it wouldn't carry a scent, repairing basic equipment that Eric brought him that he hadn't known how to make heads or tails of himself, summoning fruits and berries that were too far out of reach, conjuring water, or fire, even a glowing white stag that would settle down beside them, utterly silent, and somehow warm and comforting. Like a creature made of captured starlight.

Harry would tell him stories of a castle called Hogwarts, and the people inside, though his voice was sad and hesitant as he spoke. It had been many, many years since he last saw any of them, and he left on the brink of a war, never made it back to tell them that the leader of the opposition was alive again. Eric told him about his parents, and the games he had with his friends. Harry seemed fascinated and eager to hear about everything he missed while being out here. He often had to explain to the wild man what certain pieces of technology were, or who some singers or actors were – which would lead into films and cartoons that he'd missed out on. He told him about the San Diego incident, which Harry sheepishly told him that he had been on the island when they captured the creatures in question, mentioning how he had been to injured and delirious with infection to even make contact with them. He had gestured down at his shoes and told him that these were the last pair he had left after scavenging the abandoned site.

It was the third week they found the water-truck, and after the fourth incident where Eric had been targeted by Raptors. Apparently out of the two of them, the beasts had decided that he was the easiest pickings and focused their efforts on trapping or tricking him. Harry had not taken the majority of their attempts all that well and killed two of them for it, hissing and snarling at the rest as he leaned down from the tree he had squirrelled the twelve year old up into, viciously challenging the pack alphas with bare toothed snarls and feral screeching roars. The creatures were more taken aback than Eric himself at the sudden display of aggressiveness from the usually quiet and self-contained young man.

"Your Ben begged me to take care of you," the young man stated gruffly as he prodded at their cooking meat that night, his voice was much better now than when they first met, there were even times when it was smooth and cultured, putting Eric in mind of a British Lord or something. They were still in the tree, but like everything Eric had come to appreciate, Harry came prepared, and pulled out not only an odd bone-like bowl, but also some skewers and meat wrapped in leaves. He set up a fire made of blue flames in the bowl and skewered the meat like a shish-kabob and set it to cook. "I promised," he added quietly to himself as he tested the meat with a fingertip and returned it to the flame.

From then on, Eric called the water-truck his home base. It was armoured enough to prevent the raptors from getting in, and enclosed, meaning it was safe to sleep in – as he had never been comfortable in the trees, even with Harry's very sturdy and protective steel cage that he managed to make weightless and tie into the tree-branches.

So he may have been a tad bit rebellious in sneaking out every now and again to gather supplies, it wasn't like Harry even noticed. The young man was so used to venturing far and wide there were instances where he wouldn't be back for almost two days – yet when he did it was always with a surplus of food and vegetables and an apologetic look on his face as he handed over a sewn up Brachiosaurus stomach full of fresh water that would last him another three days.

Eric knew it was for his own safety that Harry tried to keep him cloistered in the truck, but he couldn't help but chafe at it all the same. He didn't fear Harry, he probably should have when he saw the man break the neck of a Gallimius – a two metre tall, eight metre long tan dinosaur that weighed roughly nine-hundred pounds – with his bare hands during the first week they were there. He then skinned and gutted the animal with a knife, wrapping the meat and organs in its own flesh and leaving most of the bones and bits he didn't need for other scavengers. Later he tanned the flesh, cured and smoked the meat and wrapped it up.

The only time Eric saw Harry angry at him was when he went out and got himself hurt – it was only the timely intervention of the wild man that saved him from a death from a hundred bites as he got on the wrong side of a flock of compys. He was absolutely furious with Eric and had some very crude and nasty words to say once he got him back to the water-truck, but his hands were gentle and soft as he cleaned the tea-spoon sized gouges and bites in his flesh, smearing them with his special salve and then bandaging them up. That night Eric was bundled up and slept almost uncomfortably warm as Harry slung his arm around him and kept him pressed against his chest. Like his mother used to after that car accident when he was younger, terrified out of her mind that she'd lost him and it was only the fact he was in her arms that reassured her he was still alive. He guessed it was the same as Harry. He had 'imprinted' on Eric as the first human life he'd seen in years, one that needed his help, so instinctively he had taken a parental role toward him – never mind that Eric had his own parents. Harry probably wasn't even aware of his own feelings or actions, but Eric had always been interested in dinosaurs and animals, and their behaviour. He studied a lot in his spare time – some people called him a nerd but he didn't much care, he still went out on his BMX and his skate-board, still played the playstation and nintendo. He just liked reading about the world around him. Right now, Harry was reminding him of those books, about animals that adopted outside their species because they'd been alone so long – like a female wolf adopting abandoned babies, or male penguins that would adopt chicks that lost their parents, or even in some instances steal an egg from another parent couple.

Rare was the time that Harry would return injured himself, usually it was scrapes and bruises and sore muscles from where he had pushed himself too hard, but he came back one afternoon with clear teeth marks on his shoulder and neck. They were roughly bandaged, but bleeding. Eric spent a good few hours internally freaking out over them as he watched Harry clean, stitch, salve, and rebandage them, and even though he usually slept in the tree outside so he could keep an eye on any predators that might try for the water-truck, Eric grabbed him and forced him to stay in the truck with him, curling into his side as they slept – embarrassed and now understanding why his mother, and Harry, did this now.

The next time he went out, it was in search of Harry. It had been several days since he had been back to the truck. The longest he had ever been absent was three days – he made a point of not venturing any further than that for fear of worrying Eric.

He followed Harry's footprints easily enough, he rarely bothered covering his tracks, raptors couldn't follow them, neither could Troodons – the only other intelligent dinosaur on the island. Most everything tracked by scent. Harry could as well, but Eric's nose wasn't nearly as developed as the wild man's, Harry said he just hadn't had the practice.

He found Harry in a tree-tent made of hardened hide and inside was bloody and filled with the scent of sickness. Dazed, sightless green eyes rolled to look at him as blood flecked his lips – it looked like he had been mauled, worse still, those wounds were infected, or poisoned. Harry had scars on his stomach the exact size and shape of the bites now on his shoulder and chest, from the same animal, a Troodon. Which, like a Komodo Dragon, had such a foetid mouth, its bite was considered venomous just because of the diseases and rot that bred within their mouths. He spent three days in the tree-tent living off what Harry managed to gather into his bags, every few hours recleaning the wounds and reapplying the salve – he ran out of bandages on the third day and was forced to leave them to the open air to dry and scab. Harry's fever had broken by then and they were safe to move back to the water-truck. He burned the hide and soiled bloody bandages inside, saying they were useless to him now and no amount of cleaning charms would remove the worst of the diseases that lingered behind.

Then, quite randomly, one afternoon... Harry suddenly perked up from where he was lazily lounging on the roof of the water-truck reweaving some fresher leaves into Eric's vest.

"Stay here!" he abruptly commanded, practically throwing the vest at him before taking off through the trees faster than a human had any right to go. For a moment, Eric just held the vest, bewildered down to the very bones and unsure of what just happened.

It wouldn't be until later that he heard the distant calls of angry raptors from the direction of the labs.

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And that's chapter two. I'm really sorry for the delay guys. I've been at Uni pretty much 24/7 lately. 9am in, 9-10pm leaving. I get home and collapse in bed. Most weekends of a week is spent sleeping and catching up on fanfiction that I've missed throughout the week, as well as begging backrubs off my mother. XDDD I've not really had the time to rewatch Jurassic Park several times.

Anyway, I hope you guys have liked this chapter, entirely from Eric's POV. Next one might be from Billy's or Doctor Grant's.