TWELFTH FRACTION

"Nature does not forgive your sins," - Ian Malcolm

Malcolm, Moody, Peterson, Grant

Malcolm groaned in agony as the blood from the wound seeped out of his leg.

"I never have much bloody luck with my legs on these damn islands," he remarked dispassionately.

Grant ripped a strip of fabric from his shirt and bent over Malcolm's leg. He wrapped the fabric around the wound and tied it tightly to stem the blood flow. Peterson was shaking. The animal, still howling its terrifying war cry was gazing at them all with dispassionate, hunting eyes.

"You idiot," snarled Moody angrily. "You could have killed us all, you still might!" James Moody was glaring at Peterson with none of the warm glow he'd had before. "And if Malcolm dies, I swear to you, I'll have you on a murder charge."

"This isn't the time," Grant said softly, eyeing the creature with scared fascination. "Ian, how bad is it?" Malcolm laughed, a painful, hollow laugh.

"I don't think I'll be walking any time soon," he said dryly.

"We have to leave him behind!" Peterson declared suddenly. "He'll slow us down." Peterson was still trembling uncontrollably, a nervous twitch developing in his right eye as he looked down on Malcolm's bloodied leg.

"We're not leaving anyone behind," Grant said firmly. He turned to Moody. "James, are there any jeeps left in one of the garages?" Moody screwed his face up in concentration, trying to recall. Malcolm shifted his gaze to the creature who was still watching them intently. He coughed suddenly as pain shot through his leg.

"There might be one," Moody said after a thoughtful pause. "I can't promise anything though."

"We can't stay here," Grant decided, his senses tingling him. Peterson's eyes flashed.

"I'm telling you, if we drag Malcolm along, we'll all die!" Malcolm let out a small groan of pain again as he cocked his head so he could still hear Peterson. "What's the point of sacrificing all our lives?"

"We're all going to die if we stay here bickering. We have to get to that helipad now!" Moody's voice was forceful as he looked straight at Peterson. Grant cleared his throat.

"Peterson, you go down and check if there's a jeep available. Moody and I will help Malcolm." Peterson looked for a moment as if he was about to argue further but he just closed his mouth and nodded meekly, his face pale as a ghost. He bent down to pick up his discarded rifle but Malcolm kicked it away with his good leg.

"I don't think so," he spluttered determinedly. Peterson glowered but turned away and made his way to the door. As soon as he was gone, Moody glanced at Grant.

"Do you think he'll wait for us?"

"I don't know," replied Grant. "He's scared."

"We're all scared," Moody shot back.

"I know. Come on," he jerked his neck towards where Malcolm lay, pale and sweaty. "How's that tourniquet holding?"

"Keeping me alive," Malcolm said with a dark smile.

"Grant, Malcolm?" Moody called out unexpectedly, his voice anxious. He was pointing at where the creature had been watching them only moments before. "Did any of you see where it went?" Grant looked and immediately realised what Moody was getting at.

"It must have followed him," Grant said. "Damn!"

Peterson

Peterson walked gingerly out of the control room, taking care to create as little noise as possible. His fast-beating heart was thumping loudly in his chest as he turned a corner and carried on towards the stairs. Everything was deathly quiet. Too quiet. Peterson shuddered. In his mind's eye he pictured scenario after scenario of sudden terrifying attacks that would tear him apart. The stairs creaked as he walked carefully down, holding onto the railing and taking it one step at a time. The further down he got, the faster his heart beat; it was pounding against his chest.

"Concentrate," he muttered under his breath to himself. He needed to find that jeep and quickly. But what if those creatures were waiting for him? Peterson shook his head. No, they couldn't be, he thought; he would get to the garage find the jeep and at last he would be safe. Safe. That was a laugh. Peterson didn't think he'd been safe for a very long time. "Damn you Henderson," he cursed softly. Daniel Peterson wished he had never met Henderson, never agreed to come to this wretched island and above all he wished he could get off it alive. "Ugh," Peterson cried out suddenly before he could stop himself as his foot trod on something warm and squishy in the dark. He looked down nervously. To his horror, the warm squishy thing was not a thing at all. It was the remains of a former worker at the facility, his belly torn open and his entrails hanging out uselessly. Half his face had been torn away, eaten, Peterson presumed. As he studied the body, Peterson noticed that the man's right leg had been savagely torn off at the knee joint. He felt a wretch in his stomach. "You poor bastard," he said in a whisper.

He remembered his cry of surprise. Wiping the sweat off his brow, Peterson stepped over the mangled corpse and carried on walking down the corridor. There was a creak of metal behind him, yet Peterson did not hear for the creature that made the noise was pursuing him as quietly as the wind. When the creature reached the corpse, festering in its own blood, it stopped to glower down at it. Overcome by hunger, the creature bent its neck down and opened its jaws. It tore huge strips of flesh from the dead man's chest, chewing them hard and swallowing quickly. The creatures insides flared. It had discovered a taste for human flesh. The mutated abomination lowered its neck again and tore off more strips of blood red meat. As it ate, the creature could feel itself growing as though the meat had triggered something in its DNA.

Peterson's pace quickened. The corpse had reminded him of the animals lurking in the shadows. He had to find that jeep!

Grant, Malcolm, Moody

Grant helped Malcolm to his feet and supported him between Moody and himself. Malcolm groaned groggily; he was beginning to fade.

"You know what I could really use right now?" Malcolm mumbled slowly as they hobbled towards the door, taking care to avoid the carnage that lay all around. "Some powerful drugs." Malcolm coughed viciously.

"Sorry Ian," Grant said solemnly as they stepped slowly out of the control room and onto the darkened corridor. The ceiling lights were flashing and sparking, barely giving off enough illumination to light their way. Each step they took echoed but no sounds answered. They were alone.

"Peterson better have waited for us," Moody growled. Malcolm laughed hollowly but stopped suddenly as pain shot through his chest.

"I guess we'll find out," Grant said, his eyes narrowed in thought. "It's this way right?" He asked Moody, pointing down the left corridor. Moody nodded. "We keep going then." They all agreed silently.

The three men walked painfully slowly down the stairs, following the path that Peterson had taken minutes before them. They came across the corpse, although it was now nothing more than a pile of discarded, but chewed, bones and a pool of blood. Malcolm wrinkled his nose.

"Messy bastards aren't they dinosaurs," he chuckled. They lifted their legs over the mess and continued on by. Grant's mind was uneasy. The silence unnerved him.

"I think we better get to the garage as quick as we can," he muttered anxiously. Moody and Malcolm both inclined their heads in agreement. They quickened their pace as much as they could, with Malcolm still hobbling between them on his one good leg.

"This way," Moody observed, indicating the stairs in front of them.

Peterson

Peterson sat waiting in the jeep, his chest heaving up and down as he breathed heavily. That creature had been following him, he knew it. He had heard it growling behind him as he approached the garage doors. Panicking, Peterson had opened the door as closely as he could, slipped inside and slammed it shut. For a few minutes he had just stood against the metal wall, his eyes shut but when the creature did not make another sound, he opened them. To his delight, the jeep had been sat there, waiting for him, just as Moody had hoped. He sat in it now, wondering why he hadn't opened the main doors and driven away to safety. What safety? Peterson laughed one of those cracked, fragile laughs. Then he heard it again, the horrific growl of the creature that hunted him. His heart skipped a beat.

"Hurry up," he murmured under his breath. "I can't wait for you forever." The time ticked on by as Peterson panicked more. The growl had been closer, he felt sure of it. Maybe it had picked up his scent. He shivered, a cold sweat breaking out all over his body. "Hurry the fuck up!" He fumbled for the keys in the glove compartment and pointed them at the main doors. Shaking, his fingers barely closed around the right button but his heart lifted as the doors began to open slowly, their mechanics grinding. "Right where's the ignition." More fumbling with the keys; his hands had become so sweaty with fear that they kept falling to the floor beside his feet. He twisted the key and the engine roared to life just as the door behind him opened. Peterson didn't stop to check. He slammed the handbrake down and began to drive out of the garage.

"Peterson!" Moody shouted after him but to no avail. The jeep was gone.

Moody, Malcolm, Grant

"Damn him!" Moody's eyes flashed furiously. "I knew we shouldn't have trusted him!" Grant shook his head.

"He was scared."

"So am I!"

"Guys?" Malcolm said softly. "I think we have company." Malcolm was pointing up at the roof. Grant and Moody gazed up and terror glazed over their hearts.

"Raptors," Grant spoke quietly.

"They're not looking at us," Moody said pointedly.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Malcolm said as a raptor turned its head towards them.

"I think we need to distract the-" Grant began but his mouth fell suddenly open as the raptors all turned tail and fled. The answer to the mystery arrived shortly as the creature came stomping into view behind them, flapping its noticeably larger wings in aggravation. "Now that's interesting," Grant said in wonder. He studied the creature with fascination.

"I'm more concerned about how pissed off she looks," Malcolm replied.

"I think we should get moving," Moody agreed. Grant held up a hand to stop them.

"Wait. She's ignoring us," Grant murmured. Sure enough, the creature stepped past them without giving them so much as a backwards glance.

"She's tracking the jeep," Moody said in shock. Grant frowned.

"How far is the helipad from here?"

"About ten minutes by jeep," Moody replied.

"And on foot?"

"Half hour. With Malcolm probably an hour," Moody said, the disappointment clear in his voice.

"I'm not sure if I have an hour," Malcolm interjected. He was sweating profusely, his face white with a tinge of green.

"We have to get going now," Grant said.

Peterson

Peterson accelerated, the jeeps wheels skidding through the sticky damp mud. He felt terrible for leaving them behind but he had panicked. As the door had opened, Peterson had feared it was that creature coming to get him. But when he had looked behind he had seen them standing there. He wanted to go back but he couldn't. He had to get to the helipad. Maybe the copter would circle the island and pick them up, if they were still alive. He felt sick at the thought of what that creature might do to them. The jeep rode over a tree stump in the road, jerked heavily and nearly rolled over as Peterson made a desperate turn on the wheel.

"Shit!" He wiped his forehead. "That was too close." A nasty thought hit him out of the blue. He couldn't remember the road to the helipad. What if he was going the wrong way? He stared out the left window in an attempt to get his bearings. He only took his eye off the road for a second. As he looked back, he saw the fence approaching, he tried to swerve but it was too close. With a terrific crunch of metal on metal, the jeep tore through the fence and flipped over and over before landing upright and throwing Peterson out onto the cold mud. He spat out a mouthful of dirt. The howl came suddenly. Peterson looked all around. Nothing. Then he stared up at the sky and his heart sunk to his feet. The creature was in the sky. It was flying! The creature flapped its wings and began to swoop down towards him. Peterson didn't wait. He ran.

Malcolm, Moody, Grant

They had hobbled a long way in just ten minutes; Malcolm was determined not to slow them down.

"What's that?" Grant said, spotting the glow of Peterson's headlights in the distance.

"Let's check it out," Moody said, his senses tingled. They kept walking. After about five minutes they came across the jeep, abandoned, merely feet away from where it had torn through the facility fence.

"Where's Peterson?" Grant wondered aloud.

"He must have run," Moody said. "Wait here," he instructed Grant. "I'll see if it still drives okay." He bent out from under Malcolm's grip and jogged over the fence towards the jeep. Grant grabbed hold of Malcolm, struggling to keep him standing. Moments later the engine roared to life and Moody, with a cheer, began to reverse it, taking care to get it through the helpfully jeep sized tear in the fence.

"Help me get Malcolm on the back seat," Grant said as Moody pulled the jeep up beside them. The engine still running, Moody climbed out of the jeep and assisted Grant as they pulled Malcolm up on to the jeep. Their task complete, they clambered into the front seats and within moments they were driving away towards the helipad, their spirits lifted slightly. Only Grant wondered what had happened to Peterson. They could hear the rumble of a helicopter landing and Moody slammed on the accelerator...

Peterson

Peterson sprinted through the torrential rain. He could hear the beast roaring, it was almost upon him. He would never outrun it, he thought in desperation as he slid through soft squelching mud. It roared again, he could smell the putrid breath. He threw himself behind a tree and knelt in the cold wet dirt. His heart thumped. He was sweating, terrified and alone. He shook so loud he felt sure the beast would hear him. The smell of its breath became stronger. Peterson opened his eyes. It had found him at last. After an agonising pause, Peterson felt the sharp jaws enclosing around his body, digging into the soft flesh. In a few moments it would all be over. He felt his blood seeping out of him, felt the flesh hanging off as the creature ate him slowly. In just a few minutes the light went out in his eyes and Daniel Peterson was dead to the world. The creature swallowed, Peterson's blood dripping from its jaws. There was a sudden shriek, carried out across the sky. The creature answered, flapping its wings and flying off in the sound's direction.

EPILOGUE

"Man will always forget the lessons it has learned in the past," - Ian Malcolm

Grant stared up at the small man glaring in front of him.

"You asked me what I was doing on that island?" He said, choosing his words carefully. The small man nodded, his lips going thin beneath his tiny moustache. The top of his head was bald and he had small piggy eyes. "Very simple, I was lied to," Grant announced. The inquiry did not react.

"You knew what the company, MutaGen Industries, was up to?" The small man pressed on.

"Henderson told me his company had potentially found a cure for cancer and he wanted my colleague and I to observe his efforts," Grant said without blinking.

"You now know this to be incorrect?"

"Yes," Grant nodded.

"Are you aware of the number of lives lost during this escapade?"

"Yes," Grant nodded again.

"What of Ian Malcolm?" The small man frowned, his caterpillar like eyebrows inclining downwards.

"Last I heard, Ian Malcolm was recovering well," Malcolm said with a dry laugh.

"This is not a laughing matter Mr. Malcolm," the small man spat angrily.

"No, but this inquiry is," Malcolm shot back irritably.

"This inquiry is trying to figure out what happened on that island."

"You don't need to find out what happened on that island, you need to burn it to the ground, wipe out everything InGen and MutaGen and all those idiots have done, for good." Malcolm's eyes were wide, determined.

"I was led to believe that we were working for the greater good," Moody said solemnly as the inquiry turned to him.

"You knew Henderson well?"

"Yes, he was a friend of mine for a long time."

"You saw no reason to question him?"

"No."

"You say there were mutations in the dinosaur gene?" The small man asked Grant.

"Yes, whatever chemical they were injecting the embryos with was causing the genes to mutate. It eventually led to the creation of a new species."

"Malcolm says the island should be incinerated, what are your thoughts on this matter Dr. Grant?"

"I can't see any other choice," Grant replied. His heart felt heavy but he knew there was no other way. Those animals could not be allowed to get to the mainland. But that creature could fly...

"We have to destroy them," Moody said, looking at the inquiry with a straight face.

"Dr. Sattler, you left the island before the others, tell us what you saw." Ellie gulped, her stomach tied in knots...

Moody, Malcolm, Ellie and Grant all rose to their feet along with the rest of the inquiry as the woman leading it entered the room.

"Be seated," the woman said. They sat. "My decision has been made," she said after a long, thoughtful pause. "The island and everything on it will be preserved. They may be dangerous creatures but they are still living breathing animals, rare and for that reason they should be protected." Moody, Malcolm, Ellie and Grant gave each other dark looks. "We are adjourned."

"You were never going to convince them," Ellie told Grant.

"I know," he replied with a heavy sigh. They looked out across the Costa Rican beach. In the distance, they could see the shadows of Isla Nublar, Isla Sorna and the other islands rising out of the ocean.

THE END