Chapter Thirty-Seven

Las Cinco Muertes

Nobody can be so amusingly arrogant as a young man who has just discovered an old idea and thinks it is his own. – Sydney J. Harris

ISLA SORNA

207 Miles West of Costa Rica

July 23rd

1997

The Pericule was rocking gently. It was an overcast day; it was warm, but the sky was thick with clouds. Rain was on its way. The ship was anchored a mile from the shore of a beautiful tropical island. Resting on the deck's gunwale, a twenty-three-year-old Howard Rossiter looked out onto this unkempt wilderness with a mixture of awe and frustration. This was as close as he was getting.

He was tall, thin and lanky, and his black hair was messy and uncombed. He wore a dark-green shirt underneath an unzipped khaki combat jacket, and blue jeans.

He took his eyes off Isla Sorna for a second to take a look around the deck. The deckhands were all busily preparing for the mission. Men were gathering supplies and weapons. A chopper was resting on its landing pad to Howard's far right.

With a clunk and a screech, the nearest hatch in the hull opened. A group of soldiers marched out onto the deck in single file. Most of them eagerly walked towards the makeshift armoury opposite Howard, but one broke formation and approached Howard. He had light brown hair that was rather unkempt, like Howard's. He was slightly shorter than Howard, but much more muscular.

"Your safety briefing took a while," Howard pointed out.

"Well, there was a lot to get through," the soldier answered, as he walked out to join him at the gunwale. "You forgot to mention the ones that spit poison."

"Ah, yes. Dilophosaurus wetherilli. Quite a unique species, and a brilliant find for InGen."

The soldier leaned on the gunwale beside Howard, and both men looked out at the island. This soldier was Carl Warren, a member of the mercenary team BioSyn had hired for the operation. He was twenty-six and had extensive experience in jungle warfare. He and Howard had built up something of a rapport in their short time on this ship.

After a few minutes of staring out, Howard spoke again, without shifting his gaze. "You have no idea how lucky you are."

Carl looked over at him, and spoke with an air of incredulity, even though this conversation was nothing new for them. "You're actually jealous."

"More envious, really. There is a difference."

A clap of thunder overhead, and Howard felt raindrops falling on his forehead.

As the thunder continued, and the rain intensified into a storm, Howard turned his gaze to the mercenary. "You know it's not too late to sneak me onto the helicopter!" he called over the roar of the weather.

Carl, like all of the other mercenaries, was gathering his supplies and preparing to go inside. "You know what your father would do…"

Howard took one last look at the shoreline, which was now becoming obscured by fog. "He hasn't seen it." He followed Carl inside.

…

The storm rocked the boat. Howard stood in the bridge with the captain. Their view through the windows was obscured completely by thick fog. This sizeable cabin's only feature, apart from a couple of seats, windows and a hatch-door, was the captain's controls. The mission was due to begin tomorrow morning, but looked set to be delayed now.

BioSyn had chartered this freighter to carry the mercenary team to Isla Sorna, the 'Site B' of Jurassic Park. It was here, away from the park itself, that the creatures had been matured before introduction to the park. Now that the operation had come to a bloody end, the dinosaurs and pterosaurs were free to roam around the island.

BioSyn's mission involved sending the team onto the island to check up on its inhabitants. BioSyn's last mission, three years earlier, had discovered that the creatures were suffering from a prion disease known as 'DX', and the ecosystem looked set to deteriorate and die off. This mission had the aim of ascertaining the ecosystem's progress since then, to see if DX really had killed them off, and whether DX could be cured.

The chopper was to carry the mercenary team, and a few scientists and photographers, to the island. The ship was moored along the island's northern shore. Past the coastal cliffs lay InGen's original employee village and lab. Although the complex was largely dilapidated, it would be the best place to set up camp.

Howard was in command of the mission on the ship, but once the mercenaries arrived on the island, the mercenary leader, Hudson, would have full authority. As per the orders of Jeffrey Rossiter, CEO of BioSyn and Howard's father, Howard was not to set foot on the island, and was to stay on the boat. It frustrated Howard no end.

…

Night closed in, with Howard and Captain McAllister in the bridge. The ship was still rocking with the waves, now more strongly than before. McAllister was at the wheel, trying to make out the sea ahead, but the dense fog made that impossible. Howard was sitting down, reading 'A Brief History of Time', as the ship lurched sideways. Howard was thrown to the floor, and dropped the book. Another lurch in the other direction sent both men falling.

The lurches continued, but McAllister managed to reach the controls. Howard forced himself onto his feet as well. Just as they looked out the window, the fog cleared and clarity returned. Then they saw the waves. A massive one was heading in their direction.

McAllister grabbed the radio. "Lift anchor!"

Howard opened the hatch to look out onto the bow. It was already flooded as a few deckhands ran out to the capstan. As they started winding the anchor in, a wave of seawater cascaded over the gunwale and cast them onto the deck floor.

Howard looked back to the captain, who was rapidly turning the wheel to face into the oncoming wave. However, with the bow still weighted by the anchor, the ship could not rise over the wave. The ship ploughed into the wall of water. The windows shattered. McAllister was thrown backwards. Howard was thrown off his feet, and cast from the bridge and into the water.

…

Howard coughed up. He opened his eyes and spluttered the seawater out of his throat.

It was still night, but the sky had cleared completely and he could see the moon.

He looked around. He was in one of the life-rafts, and surrounded by members of the mercenary team. There were five of them.

"That was a close one!" said one of the mercenaries, sitting over Howard. It was Carl.

Howard pushed himself upwards. He could still see the island. Around them, he could see other life-rafts, drifting in the same current. The waves beneath them were calm. "How did you find me?" Howard asked. The last thing he remembered was hitting the sea.

"Some of us grabbed the life-rafts and escaped the ship. Mainly the team, and a few deckhands. We found you in the water. By then, the ship was gone."

"How many life-rafts?"

"Five."

"Which way are we drifting?"

"South-easterly. According to maps of the island, there are a few potential landing-sites along the eastern coast."

"You plan to land?"

"Yeah. If we trek north from there, we can make it to the worker village. There's a radio facility there. We lost all our phones and radios in the storm."

After a few hours, the current calmed, and the rafts could paddle and power themselves closer to the shoreline. The impending cliffs were still present, but pocketed in the rock were a few caves. This was their way in. Howard's raft paddled into the northern-most cave. The other rafts, having been pushed further on by the current, entered the other caves. Howard was now wrapped in a second jacket to keep warm. The cave entrance was around fifteen feet high, and twenty feet wide. Not far in was the mouth to a small river, the force that had created this cave. The raft was paddled to the water's edge. The mercenaries turned on their flashlights, and dismounted the raft. Howard followed. The ceiling was high enough for them all to stand comfortably. Carl deflated the raft, and he and another mercenary carried it, while the others carried the paddles and the outboard motor. Together, they walked upwards, contra-flow to the river, and towards the air.

Howard rushed out to the front of the column as they approached the exit, and was the first to emerge. He was finally here. It was still pitch dark, but the stars showed him that he was out of the cave. The moonlight illuminated Howard's surroundings without the need for flashlights. He was standing in a clearing of grass along the riverside. A few yards from the river on both sides, the grass gave way to ferns, thorns, shrubbery, and eventually forest.

He was soon joined by the mercenaries. Carl took out a map from his rucksack. Howard and the other men gathered around. "This map was drawn out by BioSyn, based off old InGen maps," Carl began. "The ship sank here," he said, pointing to a spot just offshore, to the north. "And here's the village we were aiming for." He pointed to a set of buildings inside the coastal high ground. "We drifted south-east, and entered this cave. Now, we're here." He continued to point to the appropriate locations. "The nearest shelter is this boathouse." He pointed out a small single building upstream from their current location. It was close to the convergence of three rivers, and the other two led to other caves along the cliff. "The other groups have maps too, so that's probably where they'll go. We can camp there for the night."

Carl was right. Their group arrived first, but the other two weren't far behind, approaching up their respective rivers. There were just twenty-two other survivors, including Hudson, the mercenary leader.

The boathouse stood on the northern side of the river. It was a small wooden building of one floor. The door was gone, but the walls were largely untouched, though the occasional claw-scratch-marks reminded them where they were. The group had no blankets, but lay down on the wooden floor anyway. Hudson and two other mercenaries (not including Carl) stood guard, while everyone else tried to get some sleep.

July 24th

For Howard, the morning was a fantastic sight. The sky was a brilliant blue, with only a few clouds. Though still shaken by the shipwreck, it didn't take away from his anticipation as he walked out to the doorway, where the mercenaries were preparing. They carried assault rifles and M4 carbines, and a few semi-automatic shotguns. Howard had been equipped with no weapon, and had little experience handling them. Carl gave him a few lessons with the carbine, in case he found himself using one, and then the group set off, with Hudson in command.

The group followed an overgrown dirt-road from the boathouse. Howard had to watch his feet to avoid tripping over the thorny branches and vines that extended over the track. This road would lead them straight to the village. They walked on the right-hand side of the river, upstream, but gradually the road parted from it. Howard kept waiting to see the creatures, checking his binoculars from time to time, but he couldn't see anything; not even pterosaurs. Perhaps DX had had a more serious effect than he had assumed.

As they continued, the trees closed in to their right. After an hour, a smaller track-way led down to the right through a gap in the trees, towards a small clearing. Rossiter looked towards it through his binoculars, and saw his first Sorna dinosaurs.

It was a graveyard. Huge bones poked out of the earth, being partially overgrown. Howard ignored the rest of the team and ran towards them. The other mercenaries followed. "Five minutes!" Hudson called.

Howard examined the skeletons. With the scientists gone, he had to rely on his own knowledge of InGen creatures to identify them. Their teeth made them hadrosaurs – either Parasaurolophus or Maiasaura. The absence of the former's striking head-crest in these skeletons pointed towards the latter.

Carl called to Howard from across the clearing. He was examining the skeletons himself. "Was this DX?"

"I don't know, I can't really tell from the bones." He hadn't done that kind of research, expecting the scientists to cover that aspect of the mission. "But it's probable."

A twig cracked.

The mercenaries raised their weapons automatically. Howard suddenly felt quite isolated, out by himself. And he realised that this was a great place for an ambush.

A rustle in the bushes, and from the undergrowth burst a whole pack of Velociraptors. Rifle- and carbine-fire erupted, and the raptors leapt at their quarries. Blood of reptiles and humans spurted and fountained out of the melee. Howard had no way of helping.

Carl, still firing at the predators, ran to Howard and grabbed him. Together, they ran across to the top of the next rise, and back onto the road. They were soon joined by Hudson and the other survivors. The survivors numbered only seven, and their supplies were totally diminished. They carried just one of the deflated life-rafts, two paddles and one outboard.

One of the raptors followed them. It ran up the rise and straight for Carl. It pushed him to the ground. The other mercenaries fired their rifles, but quickly were forced to reload or switch to the carbines. The raptors tore Carl's arm. He screamed with pain.

Howard was carrying the outboard. He had an idea.

He pulled the cord, and started the motor. The propeller jerked into life. Howard grabbed hold of the powerhead and shoved the spinning blades at the raptor. They cut into the reptile's side and scattered blood and flesh. The raptor shrieked, and lifted off Carl to face Howard. He pushed the motor at it again, just as the mercenaries fired again. The raptor, outnumbered and injured, returned to the pack.

Howard set the outboard down and dropped to Carl's side. He was still conscious, very pale, and losing blood fast. One of mercenaries examined Carl's arm. He was the medic, as far as Howard remembered.

"First-aid kit!" he called. "Anyone?" No one spoke. They must have lost them. The medic sighed. "Let's get him out of here."

Together, the group lifted Carl further up the road, leaving the raft, outboard and paddles behind. Further up the road, they lay him out on an open, grassy clearing. The blades of pampas-like grass grew to shoulder-height. Three mercenaries stood watch, while the medic looked Carl over. Hudson and Howard sat beside them. The medic sighed.

He pulled a pistol out of his back pocket.

"Hey!" Howard said.

"No…" said a barely-lucid Carl, looking up at it.

The mercenary took out the magazine of the gun, and extracted a single bullet. He pulled a pair of pliers out of his pocket, and unscrewed the casing. Carefully, he scattered the grey powder on the wound. Carl scrunched up his face from the pain.

"What are you doing?" Howard asked, now less concerned, and more curious.

The mercenary took out a match, lit it, and set fire the gunpowder.

They had to hold Carl down.

…

With the gash disinfected, the medic wrapped a bandage around Carl's arm. The group continued up the road to a nearby shed, indicated by the map. The shack was barely visible, so thoroughly had it been overgrown by thickets and vines. Had it not been for the map, the group would have walked right past it. Hudson hacked the vines away from the door with what looked like an oversized pocket-knife. Inside, an unconscious Carl was set down. The medic told everyone else to stay outside, and give them some space. Outside, Howard confronted Hudson.

"We need to turn back to the caves. This place is too dangerous. The mission is a failure." Howard's spirits had been severely knocked back by the raptor slaughter.

Hudson looked at Howard, with a steely gaze. Hudson was twenty years Howard's elder, at least, and a few inches taller, with black hair. He didn't look to be taking Howard's suggestion very seriously. "According to the map, we're as close to the village now as we are to the caves. Forward or backward, it doesn't matter. We'll be running the same risk."

"Maybe, but we'll have to stay some time at the village before help arrives, and who knows what could show up while we wait. We could take the remaining life raft, which is just down the road…"

"And then spend days waiting for rescue, in stormy waters? Rossiter, we still have plenty of ammunition. We follow our orders, and head to those labs. As long as we continue on course, we should reach the village within a few hours, even with an injured party."

Hudson looked toward the shed. His face betrayed his apprehension about taking Carl. Howard could see that much. But Howard knew that kind of decision would be unpopular with the other mercenaries. At least, he hoped it would be.

Howard gave up the argument. Hudson had a point, but Howard had tired of the island. His heart wasn't in it anymore. The giant dinosaurs he'd been anticipating had been decimated by DX. The ecosystem had collapsed.

Soon, they continued on. Carl was now able to walk unabetted, and stubbornly refused Howard's offers of a supporting shoulder. As the group headed north-west, up the road, Howard saw more signs of the collapse. At the bottom of a steep ridge, they saw another skeleton. Again, the skull revealed the creature's identity. It was a Tyrannosaur. These top-predators, being at the top of the food-chain, were bound to be the most vulnerable to a destabilizing ecosystem, and the first to succumb to any changes. Howard doubted that any others were alive. At one time, these majestic dinosaurs ruled the food-chain, like the monarch in a feudal hierarchy. Now, the DX had caused something of a revolution. The royal family were gone, and the stability had gone with them. Opportunists had usurped their power. Picking at the tyrant's skeleton were the proverbial Jacobins. Tiny carnivorous dinosaurs, Procompsognathus, were perched on the bones, gnawing at the remaining pieces of flesh that hadn't been devoured by bigger predators. These seemed like the kind of animals that would briefly thrive in such an era of change.

The group ascended the ridge. The road wound around more trees, and the group emerged at the worker village. It was a set of concrete buildings, all badly overgrown and dilapidated. There were a handful of jeeps, and a fuel depot. The biggest building by far was the huge laboratory. This flat-roofed building stretched out for at least five hectares. To the side of it was a blocky building with the look of a large power-plant. Both buildings were hugely overgrown. Green vines and branches crept across the roofs and walls.

"The radio's in there," Hudson called, pointing to the lab. Together, they all climbed the steps towards the doors. The concrete was rough and broken, and ferns sprouted amongst the cracks. The group entered the somewhat eerie reception. The doors, their panes shattered long ago, were lying on the floor inside. The ceiling was hung with many vine branches, and the floor was carpeted with the dead leaves they'd deposited. Underneath the crunchy upper layer, this carpet was soft and spongy, almost as if it had turned to soil. On the reception counter lay a broken computer, a telephone, and several mouldy sheets of paper. Howard tried to read these notes, but the mould completely hid the writing beneath. Behind the counter, there looked to be a set of chrome letters, but vines had enveloped them and now concealed the message. One chrome letter, 'F', had fallen off the wall, and lay on the floor. To the right of this counter was a waiting area, with a coffee table and two long couches. One was coated with a brown mould. The other was partially covered with a badly torn plastic tarp. A torn backpack leaned against one of the couches. A couple of plastic water bottles, a pair of hiking shorts, a few shiny candy wrappers, and what looked like a mobile phone sat on the coffee table. Howard fiddled with the phone, but it was smashed and gnawed in several places and refused to turn on.

There were two exits from this reception area, two sets of mouldy metallic doors behind the reception. Both of these doors has previously been bolted shut and locked with rusty padlocks, but the padlocks now lay broken on the floor, glinting dimly amongst the leaf litter. The group chose an entrance at random, and found themselves in an overgrown corridor. They walked past broken vending machines and ornaments, and came to what looked like the egg room. The large, unbroken, grimy windows on the right side cast a greenish light over them as they explored. Several circular tables showcased broken eggshells, or nothing at all in some cases. Jars and cylinders of pickled body-parts were placed around the room in a morbid display. Howard, Carl and the medic stayed in that room, while Hudson and the other three mercenaries continued on to the radio room through a corridor to the left.

Carl sat down on one of the chairs in the room. Howard investigated the eggs nearest him.

"Those were some nice propeller moves back there," Carl commented. "Thanks, that could've ended badly."

"Shame I didn't have any real weapon to use," Howard replied.

Carl reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver revolver. It glistened in the light. He handed it to Howard. Howard turned it over in his hands, awe-struck by this beautiful instrument.

"It's real silver," Carl told him. "And real ivory in the grips. It's a family heirloom, left over from the Civil War. Seeing as I have no family left, and I personally don't really like using it…"

"Carl, you can't…"

"For all we know, you saved my life. Consider it a repayment."

Howard didn't know what to say.

"What's that?" the medic called.

Carl and Howard looked over. He was standing close to one of the windows. They immediately noticed what he was talking about. A large silhouette was facing in at them. It was distinctly theropod in shape. They mustn't have noticed its approach during their conversation.

"I thought the rexes were all dead?" Carl whispered.

With a smash of glass, the theropod's skull crashed through the glass, and scattered the shards. Some of them hit the medic, and he fell to the floor. The theropod stretched its head through the gap. It wasn't a T-rex, but a smaller Carnotaur. This was the rex's usurper. It was still a huge predator, 25 feet long. It looked around, and made its way through the window and towards the medic's body. He was covered in blood. As he struggled to stand up, the Carnotaur stretched out its neck and pulled him back, feet-first. The medic called out in pain. The Carnotaur eviscerated him. Then the predator turned to the injured Carl, whose injury it could clearly smell as it twitched its nostrils.

Howard and Carl ran out of the room. The Carnotaur plodded towards them.

Howard turned back to see Hudson and his men emerge from the corridor, and open fire. Carl stopped at the doorway to do the same with his carbine. The Carnotaur was distracted, but continued after them.

Howard raised the revolver, but his shaking hands missed completely.

Agitated by the sounds and pain of gunfire, the Carnotaur blushed bright red. This was a trait of the Carnotaurs documented by InGen.

With the dinosaur too close, Howard and Carl turned tail and sprinted through the reception and outside. They could hear the Carnotaur behind all the time.

They descended the steps at speed and ran out onto the courtyard.

Carl judged their lead big enough to turn back and fire on the dinosaur. As the Carnotaur forced its way out of the building by smashing through, Carl fired the carbine. The still-flushed Carnotaur was by now covered in blood, and slowing down.

It charged at Carl at unexpected speed and pushed him off his feet. He dropped the carbine.

The Carnotaur dragged Carl along the ground. Howard heard his groans as he tried to get a grip on the earth, to no avail.

Howard picked up the carbine, and fired into the Carnotaur's face. It roared out as blood spurted from its right eye – Howard had got lucky.

Carl tried to push himself off the ground, but the Carnotaur forced its right foot onto his back.

Howard heard something crack.

Carl cried out in agony.

Hudson and his men emerged from the building and opened fire.

The Carnotaur looked at Howard, who had paused fire. Howard frantically attempted to reload the weapon.

Howard heard a familiar screech. He looked up to see a Velociraptor sprint out of the trees and leap onto the Carnotaur's side.

It started to tear into the predator. It looked like David versus Goliath from where Howard was standing, but the raptors had numbers on their side. Within seconds, the rest of the pack, eleven raptors, launched from the bushes and onto the Carnotaur.

The Carnotaur lifted its foot from Carl, and tried to cast these midgets off itself, but their combined mass outweighed the larger predator's.

After a few more seconds, it collapsed to the ground. The usurper was dead.

A feeding frenzy erupted amongst the raptors, and soon the weaker ones were pushed away. Still bloodthirsty, they turned to the humans.

Three raptors ran up the steps to the lab building. The four mercenaries were already firing, but with little impact. The raptors each went for a different mercenary, with only Hudson left standing as the new top-predators dug into the men's flesh. He fired, but eventually gave up on them. He ran to Howard.

Howard tiptoed towards the kill, and grabbed Carl's body. He carried it away, to the tree-line, and looked for life. He lay Carl on his back. The man was barely conscious.

"I can't feel my legs…" he said.

"Don't… don't…" Howard stammered, trying to find a wound so he could try the gunpowder trick.

"Tell them I went out in a blaze of glory," Carl said. Then he closed his eyes.

"Wait… no!"

Hudson ran towards them, and saw Carl. He checked the young soldier's pulse, and frowned.

He pulled the speechless Howard to his feet, and ran to the nearest employee accommodation building. Hudson opened the unlocked front door. They both ran inside, and Hudson slammed it shut, using all available locks.

Howard collapsed to the floor.

…

They were in a narrow corridor, with several blue, numbered doors presumably leading into the workers' accommodation rooms. Hudson broke down the nearest door, and together they entered the room. They stood in the kitchen. The circular table at the middle was overlaid with papers, photographs and maps. Howard looked through them, and found a map of Isla Sorna, similar to their own. The kitchen featured a gas cooker, cupboards, and a fridge. The food was all decayed and inedible. Two doors led from the kitchen into the bedroom and toilet-room. Howard pulled a chair up to the table, and sat. Hudson stood over beside him.

"The helicopters will be here soon," the mercenary leader said. "Maybe a few hours. I need to go back into the lab. To complete our mission."

Howard spoke without facing the merc. "The mission's impossible. The lab was only ever a stop-off point, anyway."

"The lab was the mission."

Howard realised what he meant, and looked up at him. "You want the embryos?"

"Your father wants them. And I'm going to make sure damn sure he gets them. It's unfortunate that we lost so many men, Howard, but if what your father says is true, then trust me. The ends will justify the means."

"What could possibly justify this?"

"You're welcome to come with me if you want to find out. I'm betting sticking together is our best chance of survival."

…

Hudson peered through the door every so often to check up on the raptors. After a few hours, the pack returned to the forest. Together, the two survivors made their way to the lab. By now, the sun was setting, and they were losing the light. Hudson brought a large flashlight, his M4 and his assault rifle, as well as his own backpack. Howard followed close behind, with a carbine. Together, they snuck in through the back entrance, and down a corridor. Hudson had retrieved a map of the building while he was in the radio room, and routinely checked it with the flashlight to make sure they were going in the right direction.

Further down the corridor, they opened a rusty metal door, and entered the embryonic cold storage room.

The room was a small space, with no feature other than the storage rack at the centre. Hudson took off his backpack and rummaged through, while Howard walked out to the rack. Positioned around it were cylinders, labelled with dinosaur names. Velociraptor, Procompsognathus, Apatosaurus; a few bad misspellings, like Tyranosaurus or Stegasaurus.

Hudson approached the rack. He slipped on a pair of thick gloves. "Used to have a constant supply of liquid nitrogen," he said. "Doesn't seem to be active now, but better safe than sorry." He slipped out one labelled 'Triceratops', and slipped it inside a cylindrical container he was holding. He slid the container shut, and returned it to his rucksack. He then took out another, identical container. In all, he took out fifteen cylinders, one for each species, and put them in his pack.

"You can't seriously be considering repeating this endeavour?" Howard asked as Hudson got ready to go.

"That is not my concern anymore, Rossiter. Who knows what your father is planning?"

Together, they left the building and returned to the accommodation. And then they waited for rescue.

…

By the time the BioSyn rescue helicopters landed in the courtyard, night had fallen. Together, Hudson and Howard ran out to the nearest and jumped into the back. Hudson informed the pilot that they were the only survivors, and told them to lift off. As the helicopter rose off the ground, Howard looked down at the other choppers. Men in camouflage suits, carrying heavy weaponry, assembled on the ground. Some of them ran out to establish the perimeter.

Under the light of the helicopter spotlights, Howard noticed something in the trees. Not far from the Carnotaur corpse, now picked clean, the trees shook.

"No!" Howard called. Hudson grabbed hold of him, and Howard was forced to just watch.

One of the raptors walked out from the trees, and towards the reinforcements.

One of the men whistled loudly, and together they all turned in the predator's direction.

Alone, the raptor could do little as the bullets bore into it. Within seconds, it fell lifelessly to the ground.

One of the men gestured to the others, and together more than thirty soldiers marched in formation into the trees.

The helicopter rose over the canopy, and Howard could see and hear the men executing the raptors, one by one.

The helicopter hovered for a few more moments as the pilot spoke into his radio, and then flew away from the village, over the coast and on towards the ocean.

Howard was later informed that not a single one of the reinforcements had been killed on the island, but had successfully exterminated the pack. If these, the most formidable of the dinosaurs, could be easily controlled with the right preparation and weaponry, then what of the others? Perhaps Hammond's dream had not been so impractical after all.

Howard was determined that Carl's death would not be in vain. Something had to result from the carnage. The shipwreck had compromised the mission; that much was clear. Perhaps a better-planned mission would succeed where this one had failed? Howard was determined that he would do better than his father had.

And could DX be cured? BioSyn would be the ones to find out.

The key to the ideas now flourishing in Howard's mind lay inside Hudson's pack. True, the embryos themselves had been mostly killed without a steady supply of liquid nitrogen – they only yielded a single Apatosaur infant, which died after a few weeks. And Jeffrey had never intended to actually use the embryos, only to research them. Howard would take the next move. The embryos provided a stepping-stone to new ideas in BioSyn; new blood, new advances. No longer would the company lower itself to the depths of industrial espionage. The legacy of Dodgson would be wiped clean.

Hudson was right. The ends justified the means.