I originally finished this chapter last week, but something about it felt off. I didn't like it. So I gave it the weekend to think on. Then it hit me in the middle of work on how to re-approach this chapter while keeping to the point. I was wanting to include more with it at the end but figured I'd start off the next chapter with it.
PREPARATIONS
14 – The Good, The Better and the Oh Shi-
The helicopter ride to the mainland wasn't as bad as it could have been for Pet or anyone else, thanks to Dr. Carlyle giving her a modest morphine injection. Not even ten minutes after take-off, Pet was asleep and head resting on Muldoon's shoulder. Her right arm was in a sling that was also secured around her chest to prevent any movement. She was then taken to the same hospital that tended to her post rescuing from Isla Sorna the year prior.
Luckily, the same doctor that oversaw her recovery then was still there. This greatly relieved Simon, though he was already prepared to give the usual spiel of nondisclosure agreements to any physician necessary. At least this individual knew the absolute importance of keeping the young woman's condition a secret. With the billionaire's polite insistence, the doctor allowed Carlyle to work alongside him and his medical team as they treated Pet.
A full health examination was performed, discovering the hybrid was suffering from more than just a broken clavicle. Aside from the obvious bumps, bruises, and scrapes, Pet's left ankle was sprained, and she had a mild concussion. She had several strained muscles as well. Muldoon didn't really think much of the examination's findings. These particular injuries were nothing new for the hybrid.
When Simon rhetorically asked what wasn't wrong with the woman, the male doctor, Dr. Vargas, answered with, "At least she is not sick with a fever, this time."
Muldoon watched dark eyes heavy with a desperate need for sleep, turn irate, and bore holes into the doctor. How inadequate rest tended to take the best out of many people. Even patient and good spirited individuals like Simon weren't immune to this.
Within a handful of hours, Pet's broken bone was set with the aid of three pins to hold it in place, and her ankle wrapped up. The brace looked more like a thick, black sock secured with heavy-duty Velcro strips. The many scrapes and cuts were cleaned and bandaged. Both the doctor and Carlyle agreed Pet needed to remain in the hospital overnight for monitoring. Muldoon knew she wasn't going to like that and dreaded her reaction once she woke up. Maybe with him there, she wouldn't be so aggressive. Maybe.
Being the gentleman that he was, he let Carlyle have the reclining chair. He, himself, was about to get as comfortable as he could in the more simplistic chair at the foot of the bed when Simon gestured him into the hallway. This confused him. Only on extreme occasions did the billionaire ever want to speak with anyone in private. Worse case scenarios flooded him. Muldoon worried if it had something to do with a nurse running their mouth about Pet. Had something else been found during the medical examinations that were just now coming to light? If that were the case, then wouldn't Dr. Carlyle need to know as well? Unless she already knew, and he was just now being informed.
Muldoon stepped into the hallway, quietly closing the door behind him. "What's this, then? Something wrong?"
Simon solemnly shook his head. "No, no, nothing is wrong. More like something right, for Ms. Hammond." Muldoon arched a curious brow. "I'm making arrangements to have her return to Montana once she's cleared for travel."
"May I ask why?"
A heavy exhaled breath left the well postured suited man a bit slumped in the shoulders and overall disheartened. "She's already been through enough, and her personal life put on hold more what's fair. I'm not going to ask or make her assist with the corralling. Let her get married. Let her finally have that happiness she's been chasing all of her life."
Muldoon understood and much respected the decision. "I couldn't agree more."
"I was speaking with Dr. Vargas a few minutes ago. He plans on discharging her tomorrow afternoon. From there, transportation will be available to take her to the airport where my private jet will be waiting."
Grey eyes saw the deep sadness in dark brown ones. "You make it sound like you won't be there."
"I won't," was given in a hasty reply. "I have been neglecting tending to the responsibilities of my companies these past days. There is much I need to get caught up on before the corralling begins next week. I'm flying out this evening for a press conference early tomorrow morning in Palo Alto to address the issue that is the Spinosaur InGen illegally created, then denied. There's also needing to finalize the paperwork for the island off Panama. The sooner that is done, construction for the surveillance and medical offices can begin for the obstacle course."
Muldoon couldn't imagine trying to manage everything the other man was and on very little sleep at that. "Dr. Carlyle told me Veronica should be waking soon once the sedation medication wears off."
"Then, I will let you be the bearer of the good news."
Muldoon nodded again with forced acceptance. "I'm sure she'll be relieved to return home."
Home. It was a foreign word to him. The last time he ever really felt like he had a home was his old trailer in Kenya. While Quarantine was someplace to reside, for the time being, it wasn't the same. There was no personality to the dig site trailer in the form of pictures, trinkets, or anything else one does to their home to make it theirs. He couldn't even claim any of the dishes or silverware. Only Derek and Pet made it feel remotely like home.
Simon continuing brought Muldoon back to the present conversation. "I plan on stopping by the excavation at one point next week to finalize some things, there, before returning here. I know Ms. Hammond expressed wanting to part ways after achieving her hunt, but...I feel a final farewell is in order." Her exact words seared into him, reopening a wound that hadn't completely healed. "Now, if you'll please excuse me, I must return to the yacht to ready for my flight in two hours." Simon turned and made his way to the floor's elevators.
Muldoon calling, "Mr. Masrani," made him stop long enough to meet the other man's gaze. "Give her some time. She'll come around. I know she will." It didn't seem to lighten the billionaire's mood, any, as he resumed striding around the corner where the nurse's station and elevators were.
It was one-thirty in the afternoon before Pet woke up. The familiar and robust smell of antiseptics struck her nostrils, and she groaned. "Ugh, I hate my life."
She heard Muldoon chuckle. "Yeah, well, you're not the only one."
Pet cracked a heavy eyelid open and saw her best friend and guardian reading a magazine at the foot of her bed. "Are you saying you hate my life, too?"
"No, but I know of others who did and still do." A page was flipped as grey eyes darted left to right in their reading. "I'm sure your good friend, Mr. Stevens, would like to hear how you're doing and your latest feat of killing his Spinosaur."
Pet weakly smiled. "I would love to rub it in his face so hard. Speaking of good friends, I'm surprised my fan club president isn't here. I can't even smell that cologne he always wears like he hasn't been here in a while, if ever."
The magazine was closed and tossed onto the empty food tray. "About that. There's something he wanted me to tell you." Muldoon hoisted a brand-new black and smokey grey backpack off the floor at his feet. It was sat down beside the lumps in the blanket where Pet's feet were. "Derek went out and bought you a new bag and packed your stuff in it."
Pet was confused. "Am I going somewhere?"
"You're going back to Montana."
By four PM, Muldoon watched the airport grow smaller and smaller, the higher the yacht's private helicopter flew. Visible down below on the tarmac was Simon's Gulfstream, seeing how he chose to fly first class on a commercial flight the previous evening. The private plane was intended for Pet to fly back to Montana on.
He thinned his lips and sighed. "You do realize Mr. Masrani is not going to be happy about this."
Seated across the helicopter's backseat was Dr. Carlyle. She gulped and nervously fidgeted with her fingernails.
To her right was a somewhat agitated Pet. The hybrid snorted. Resting against the seat between her and Carlyle was a single crutch the hospital gave her to assist with walking. It's not like she could use two, seeing how she was ordered not to move or used her right arm. At her feet was her backpack. "Like I give two fucks and a shit how he's going to feel. I plan on having a long talking to with him when he gets back on the boat next week."
Carlyle timidly questioned, afraid to know the answer. "What do you plan on doing in the meantime? Hopefully, nothing crazy."
Pet shrugged. "I have an idea. It's something that needs to be done before the corralling begins, anyway."
"What's that?"
"Making a guide of the animal species on the island, detailing everything from their weight, height, lifestyle, aggression levels, attack habits, preferred food sources, etcetera. That way, those unfamiliar with the animals will at least have some clue of what to expect."
Thankfully the flight to the yacht wasn't that long. Simon had ordered the crew to anchor it off Costa Rica. The helicopter touched down, Pet about to grab her backpack. Carlyle stopped her. "Nah, ah. I'm putting you on an extremely limited waiver. No lifting or carrying anything over five pounds."
Pet stared at her blankly. "What?"
"And!" A manicured fingernail was aimed at the hybrid. "I'm making sure you get plenty of rest! The body can't properly heal without adequate rest."
"Ehh!" Pet swatted the hand away. "Before that," she looked at Muldoon, "may I please borrow the satellite phone, so I can call Alan?"
The man nodded and disappeared below deck. Pet got comfortable in the lounge chair she'd claimed at her bed and propped her wrapped ankle up. She enjoyed the ocean breeze washing over her when Paul's voice broke her out of her trance.
"What in the bloody dazes do you think you're doing here?"
Pet smirked. "Enjoying the nice day."
The Brit came into view, looking displeased. "You're supposed to be on your way back to Montana." The hybrid slowly nodded. "Masrani is going to go mental when he finds out." Next came a careless shrug from the woman. "Wonderful."
A handful of plaster was smeared along the top of the recently excavated raptor's skull. Grant wanted to see to the fossil's tending to himself, given the disaster that had become the preservation tent. The only other person he'd even consider letting near it was his protégé. Ringing from the satellite phone on the table grabbed his attention.
He knew the call would be from one of three people and put it through the speaker. "Hello?"
A jovial, "Hey, honey!" blew up from the other end of the call. "Did I get you at a bad time?"
"Yes and no. Just plastering is all." Each part of the skull was meticulously handled as though it could break at any second. "How are you feeling?"
"Right now? Pretty well. The doctor gave me another dose of pain meds before discharging me from the hospital."
Grant frowned. He could only imagine what the hybrid looked like, going by Derek's description from a previous conversation earlier. Thankfully, days like those were becoming more limited, and he wouldn't have to worry about that anymore. He stopped working, hope sinking in his chest. He'd be foolish to think that was the real case.
"Mr. Masrani said you're heading back here this afternoon." He waited to hear a confirmation from the hybrid, but none came. "But something tells me otherwise."
Pet heard the disappointment in his voice and wiped her eyes with the back of her left hand. "Gee, you know me so well." She sniffed away her urge to break down even more. "You know I can't just leave them here."
Seconds felt as though dragging on into minutes and into hours when it had only been roughly five seconds of silence. "I know." It's like he really did know, and that bothered the hybrid the most. "They need you there, more you're needed here."
Pet squeezed her eyes shut and silently sobbed to herself. "I'm busted up, Alan. There's nothing I can do if something does happen. I just…I don't know. What am I supposed to do?"
She heard Grant softly laugh, and it filled her with slight relief. Usually, someone laughing at another during an emotional breakdown would be insulting. Coming from him, it felt more like a reminder that she was overreacting. Perhaps she was. This wasn't like the Jurassic Park incident, or Ludlow's camping adventure gone wrong. Hoskins and his team brought in firepower what her companions brought in knowledge of the animals and hunting large game.
"Knowing you," Grant began in a lighthearted tone, "you'll still find some way of defying the odds. You never knew when to stay down." Pet wasn't aware she was smiling behind streams of tears. Her decision to pass on returning to Montana greatly pained her. Oh, how she wanted to be back at the dig site, curled up in bed with him there. "By the way, did you remember to get me a tooth?"
Pet huffed a laugh, nodding. "Yes, I did. I need to finish cleaning it, though, before I mail it to you. I think you'll like it. I got you one of the bigger ones."
"I can't wait."
Muldoon watched the hybrid talk on the phone for a little bit longer, frowning. The call was ended, and the heartbroken sobs she'd been trying to restrain the whole time broke through.
Grant hung up the phone with both a relieved and heavy heart. Billy poked his head into the tent through the front flap. He'd been lingering outside for the past several minutes to allow some privacy. "Can I come in?"
Mentor waved protégé inside. "Perfect timing. I could use your help, actually."
Billy neared the table blanketed with layers of old newspapers mostly covered in dried plaster. "How's Nica?" He knew exactly how she was doing after eavesdropping but was trying to make conversation.
"Doing good from what I can tell." It was impressive how Grant worked the plaster to be so even and smooth with barely any effort. It reflected his years of experience. "She's out of the hospital and has chosen to remain in Costa Rica for the time being."
Billy knew for a damn fact if it were any other situation not involving the others, she'd completely drop everything and return to Montana without delay. "Guess it was to be expected." He did his best to smoothen the plaster along the side of the left side of the skull's snout, but it looked lumpy and uneven.
Grant studied the skull, a faint smile upturning his frown. "She also said to make sure we watch the morning news tomorrow, too. Didn't say why, just that it was important."
The younger man's head perked up. "Maybe it's about the Spino. I know she was trying to work with Masrani on cleaning up the mess InGen made of your reputation."
The senior scientist remained silent. The hybrid always seemed to come to his rescue, even when the threat was more than just a dinosaur. It's what made the suffocating weight of guilt on his chest crush down on him that much more. Her choosing to stay in Costa Rica to be there for her surrogate family was just a foretelling of things to come later down the road. He just knew it. But he'd wait and see.
Blue-green eyes were distant in their stare, tears since dried. Her deadened expression fit her mood, well, and probably her medicated state of mind. The sunset sure was beautiful, though. The growling of a hungry stomach reminded Pet the last time she ate. Well, attempted to anyway. Something about hospital food wasn't all that tasty or satisfying. She'd prefer MREs or a Gallimimus flank. Maybe some of Mr. Winston's wife's lasagna.
Someone moving behind her came into view as Roland took it upon himself to sit down next to his goddaughter. He eyed her bruised and beaten form from head to toe. "I would offer you a celebratory drink for your kill if you weren't so strung out on medications."
Pet grumbled. "It's wearing off anyway. I'm starting to feel all the things hurt at once." She remembered something he told her shortly before her hunt and smiled. "So, does this mean I'm a real hunter now? You said you might take me seriously if I managed to kill the Spino with my bare claws."
Roland met smirking blue-green eyes with his deadpan expression. "If you managed to kill it, which, as I recall, you didn't." Pet's smile dropped. "You cheated by calling the raptors to your aid."
A low growl emanated from the hybrid's throat. "Seriously, Roland? You really think I planned that?" The man's stern face upturned in a sly smile. Pet knew that look and shook her head, laughing to herself. "Bastard. Really, though. Have I proven myself worthy?"
"It depends. Does your kill count come anywhere near Robert's and mine?"
Pet cut her eyes down and pursed her lips. "Are you counting just animals, or do people count, too?"
As much as he loved the hybrid like his own, he couldn't help but wonder about her sometimes. "Would you have really killed Peter had I not stopped you?"
"Which time?"
"I'm serious, Veronica."
The woman rolled her eyes and gazed back out at the rich reds, oranges, and yellows, painting the horizon where the sky touched the ocean. "So am I, and to answer your question, yes! I would have killed him. I don't care if he was my cousin. He tried to kill me first back in nineteen ninety-three!"
Roland crossed his ankles and folded his hands over his stomach. "He was a son of a bitch, anyway."
After a hearty dinner, Dr. Carlyle administered Pet's last dose of pain medication for the night and ushered her below deck. It was a tough fight up with the one-armed, one-legged hybrid until the sedative kicked in. From there, it took no effort for Muldoon to carry the unconscious Pet to her reserved bedroom.
Just as it was tough to get the hybrid to sleep inside, it was just as difficult to wake her up at five forty-five the next morning. One of the more tech-savvy crewmen of the yacht had managed to locate the popular news channel Simon's press conference would broadcast on at six AM.
The half comatose hybrid went into the dining hall, whimpering and wincing in pain. She saw Paul seated at one of the round tables and talking to Valerie and Terrence over a morning cup of tea.
Pet whined. "Paul!" The addressed Brit watched the hybrid near closer to him, her crutch clanking against the hard floor in the process. "I need your magic fingers, now!"
Derek, seated at a nearby table and shoveling hefty bites of scrambled eggs into his mouth, started choking.
Valerie arched her brows at the dirty blond man. "I thought you said you were gay."
Paul sat his cup of tea down and mischievously grinned at the redhead. "That doesn't mean I don't know how to touch a woman the right way to make her come back for me." Derek was still choking, Terrence unsure if he wanted to ask or not. Paul gave a curious but friendly smile at the woman. "What can I do for you this time? Pop your back again?"
With some work, Pet moved a chair around right next to him and sat down with her back to him. She pointed a clawed finger at her scarred left shoulder. "I slept the wrong way, and now I have a crick in my neck."
Paul popped his knuckles and flexed his hands. "That's an easy enough fix."
The yacht's crewman turned on the main television screen and went into the technical room to turn on the computer, next. By the time the news came on, the dining room was full of Pet and her companions, most of the yacht staff, and the InGen Security team. They weren't the only ones tuned in on it.
Billy stopped washing the dirty breakfast dishes to watch the broadcast. He joined his mentor at their trailer's kitchenette bar. On the screen and shown approaching the microphone podium was the sharply dressed Simon in a black suit. Behind him and on either side of the front stage were wall-mounted, large screen TVs displaying the hosting news station's logo.
"Thank you all for coming," he began, voice demanding of attention. "As I'm sure many might recall, there was an incident last year in July involving eight individuals that trespassed onto a restricted island controlled by InGen. The occurrence eventually involved immediate search and rescue operations from the brave men and women of the United States Navy and Marines. Six survivors were safely recovered, among them being the well-respected paleontologist Doctor Alan Grant."
Dozens of strobe camera flashes lit up the room as the voices of the present press representatives blended in a furious assault of questions. Simon held up a hand to silence them, it taking a handful of seconds for them to oblige to the silent order. They sat back down on the edge of their seats, eager to hear if their unaddressed questions would get their answer.
Simon continued. "Quickly following his recovery from the island came another pressing matter. Rumors of a new species of prehistoric animal not present on any of InGen's accountability lists was said to be inhabiting the island. There was no proof of this at the time, and his personal accounts of its existence were disregarded. An investigation into these accusations was made, and a statement was given by a late InGen executive debunking the rumors. The result of this was the unfortunate damaging of a good man's hard-earned reputation. Since then, I took it upon myself to do my own investigating. I soon learned that there was, in fact, a prehistoric creature illegally created by InGen without," the word was stressed with sharp articulation, "my knowledge and authorization. Two teams comprising the most qualified men and women were formed and sent to the island to track and locate the animal. What they discovered was upsetting."
Simon stepped aside to stand between two of the screens so that everyone within the room could see the TVs. The news logo was replaced with Hoskins' team's footage of the Spinosaur running out of the tree line and right at their helicopter. Its roar was loud and thunderous. The displayed footage stopped a second before it was shot with the tracking device. The scene then changed to show Derek's recording of the Spinosaur being attacked by the raptors. Pet was nowhere to be seen. The two pieces of footage were played back on a loop cycle for a second and third time.
Green eyes of an American Navy sailor were squared down and unblinking in their watching the same news broadcast. Owen Grady leaned against the breakroom's cabinet, where the coffee pot sat, gurgling, and brewing a fresh pot of dark roast. He crossed his arms over his camouflage uniformed chest. He never doubted Dr. Grant once in his coming forward publicly. Many said he was running his mouth for attention to keep his popularity following Jurassic Park. Owen's only regret was that he didn't see the animal in question for himself to validate the scientist's story.
A fellow seaman pointed at the TV. "Hey, weren't you there for that, Grady? Did you see anything there that looked like that?"
Owen wasn't about to say shit. He was not only under orders to never speak of the search and rescue mission to anyone without a need to know, but there was also an NDA floating over his head. Although, that was probably more for whatever the hell the sick woman was than the actual mission and persons involved.
He shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Pet closed her eyes and nearly slid out of the chair when sinking into it in relief. "Oh, thank God."
Everyone else watched Simon step back up to the podium. "As I'm sure everyone can see what Doctor Grant stated of there being such an animal on the island is true. Shortly after the animal was discovered, and the two video clips recorded, it was attacked and killed by other denizens of the island."
Pet covered her face with her left hand and cried in joy into it. Maybe now, with the validation of Grant's story, he could stop getting shit on in public. With this revelation, there was no doubt he would reclaim his place as one of the best and most renowned paleontologists in the field.
That following Tuesday, Simon found himself overwhelmed with phone calls and emails. News stations, tabloids, magazines, and newspapers all wanted the same thing; a detailed story of what Dr. Grant and the other survivors experienced on the island before their recovery. One of his top executives managing Mascom in India even reported numerous calls, keeping the phones busy. Of course, no one was going to say a thing as they were instructed.
During the three-hour flight from Palo Alto to Montana's Glasgow airport, a nap made the time go by so much quicker. Simon's mind was too much of a whirl to register the short helicopter ride to the dig site. The first thing he visually searched for was the trailer the hybrid, and her companions called Quarantine. Parked behind it were a familiar red Jeep and sports car. Upon landing, it was the fastest Dr. Grant had ever personally greeted him. What didn't surprise him was the hybrid not greeting him, as well. No doubt, she was still angry.
Grant escorted the billionaire to the office trailer, Billy following. Just seconds after closing the door, and before Grant could speak, the satellite phone started ringing. Billy answered it but quickly hung up. "It was another troll wanting to ask about the island."
Simon couldn't immediately figure out what the term troll was supposed to mean. "Who?"
Billy explained. "It's what Dr. Grant calls all the news people calling him all hours of the day and sometimes late at night. They wanted nothing to do with him and what he had to say until the press conference. Now, they're like trolls coming out from under their bridges wanting to know more."
"Ah."
Grant didn't want the visit to focus on his personal frustrations and professionally smiled at the suited man. "To what do I owe your visit, sir?" Not only was this man funding his dig site, but he did a tremendous favor of clearing his name. Of course, Grant was going to be extremely appreciative and polite.
Simon frowned a bit. "I was hoping to speak with Ms. Hammond one final time before returning to Costa Rica. The first official phase of the park's construction begins very soon, and I would like to address an issue between us."
The senior scientist new what that issue was and thinned his lips in a thin smile. "I apologize, Mr. Masrani, but Veronica is not here."
"I take it she is in town, then?"
Billy winced. "Not exactly."
Grant was put on the spot. "She never left Costa Rica after being discharged from the hospital."
He watched as the calm and collected man achieved the highest level of silent meltdown mode he had ever witnessed of anyone. He had a feeling things were going to turn nasty for the hybrid once the billionaire returned to Central America. Rest in peace, Veronica, he thought to himself. You will be missed.
