Act Three – The Hated
Chapter Twenty-Five
Fuck.
Fuck shit fuck fuck fuck! What have I done? How the hell have I let this happen? And how the hell do I get out of this? A few too many games of poker, a few bad hands and I land myself in this mess. This really is it. I am either going to die or go to prison. Blood on my hands, complicit in criminal activity, single-handedly responsible for destroying a ship. The list goes on! What a career! A career of bad choices, bad people and it's all ending in the worst few days of my life. And fucking hell I wish she would stop pointing that gun at me!
Clint frowned at the barrel of Gail's gun as it wobbled in his direction. Every bounce of the truck along the track made Gail's hand jolt. Which made the gun move. And with every movement Clint had to clench his ass in readiness for a stray bullet. Oh, what an accident, she'd say. What a shame my finger slipped and this piece of shit got a bullet in his side. Clint frowned at Gail, for the hundredth time, his lips locked together in pursed fury, shame and guilt. That's definitely what she'd say, the shadowy bitch. I really, really should have let those things tear her apart on the docks. How many more times am I going to wish that? She can't kill me yet though. She needs me. Doesn't she?
"Penny for your thought's Cliff?" Gail shot him a coy look, her mouth twisted in amusement. Her eyes were still cold, but now they had blended with that twinkle she had shown so much, that twinkle he'd quite liked. The result was a look of pure malice, pure revelry in his discomfort. Nothing less than I deserve. But what I wouldn't give to smack that smug look off her face and get the hell out of here. Or better still, ditch her in this forest and leave her. He tried to give her a withering look, or the best he could do with his aching head and ribs. He tried to massage his shin where she'd ground her boot into it, but his restraints made it difficult.
"Clint,'' he said flatly. "And my thoughts are my own."
"Oh, come on now,'' she said. "Think of it this way. Your cooperation will mean you get out of this place alive."
"And straight into a prison cell?"
"Well, it's got to be better than being turned into lizard shit, surely? Surely you don't want that Cliff?"
"My name is Clint,'' he huffed. Gail sighed, almost rolling her eyes.
"I know that's your name. It amuses me to mispronounce it." Gail shifted in her seat, the barrel of that gun moving around again, but never once did its direction change from Clint's body. He saw her frown for a moment, then she looked in the rear view.
"Hannah. I need you to do something for me." Lockwood looked at Gail, as if disturbed from her own thoughts, a frown of her own on her face. She sniffed, rubbing a hand under her nose irritably. "Take this gun and keep it on Clyde here." Screw you. "If he tries anything clever…"
"You want me to shoot him?" Lockwood did not look happy. Maybe a good sign? Could I try a run for it? A run to where though? Endless forest and dinosaurs? Fuck. Gail knows she's got me trapped. Oh, and lets not forget im tied up like a damn hog for the roast.
"You won't need to,'' said Gail. "Will she Clint?" Clint just scowled at her. He turned sullenly and looked ahead, watching the grey sky turn darker above the black outline of the trees, the rain still coming down. Will it ever stop? Will any of it ever stop?
"You ready to tell me the name of the other contact?" Gail's voice was cold again, hard. Clint didn't like the way she switched from dry humour to stone cold bitch so easily. Made her unpredictable.
"No,'' said Clint, trying to find some backbone. Difficult when you feel so defeated.
"Don't leave it too long,'' sighed Gail. "Its your only ace to play remember." Don't I know it. I need to think. And quickly. Need to make some more aces. Hell, I'll throw that prick Wilson under the bus and to the wolves and to anything else if I can get clear of this. And I know its him. That piece of shit played the good doctor well, but he's out to screw the rest of them, the rest of us!
Clint frowned, recalling the way Wilson had looked so eager, so happy, as he'd held that radio to his mouth and given those coordinates, fooling all of them into thinking help was coming. Clint huffed inwardly, annoyed he hadn't picked up on those phony coordinates at the time. He'd used coordinates himself, countless times, on the countless crossings between islands and the mainland. How could he have missed it. Because the prick had made it so believable. And we had all been so desperate. Maybe I should tell her now. Try and cut some sort of deal? He looked at her. Those eyes, that hard set to her jaw. Might as well cut a deal with a dinosaur. They'd probably be less ruthless.
"If I get you this other contact,'' said Clint, trying to keep the wheedling from his voice. "If I can get them to confess…"
"Let me stop you there,'' said Gail. "I don't make the deals. Ok? I know what you're aiming at, and trust me, if I was the shot caller here, it would be different. But I'm the shot taker, understand?"
"Who is then? Whose ass do I have to kiss to avoid being locked up? Hammond?"
"I wouldn't worry about that now, Clark,'' said Gail, smiling. "You just worry about me. Got it?"
"And just who the fuck are you?" snapped Clint. "Huh? You have been stalking me all this time, you know all about me. So who the hell are you?" Gail just drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, her lips pouting slightly, as if she were listening to a song and on her way to work. She turned her head ever so slightly, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Just a shadow,'' she whispered. Fucking hell! Does she never give anything away? Clint glanced behind and looked at Lockwood, and the gun still worryingly trained on him. She looked uncomfortable, but her eyes looked stern, focused. Seemed he'd managed to piss her off as well in a very short space of time. Such a charmer.
"Fine,'' he said, irritably. "But promise me this. We get to the lab, and that chopper takes us away from here, and I tell you who the contact is, you promise not to kill me?" Gail glanced out her window, as if admiring the scenery.
"You hold up that bargain you struck and tell me, then I won't need to. The justice system will do that for me. And you'll be telling me before you set foot anywhere near that chopper anyway." Great. This really is some sorry shit. No doubt Hammond will be at the chopper himself with the handcuffs, ready to slap them on me and Wilson. Examples to be made!
Clint sunk a bit lower into his seat, his frown sinking into his eyes. His face was starting to ache with the effort of feeling sorry for himself. He needed distraction. Hell, what I need is a miracle.
"How did you know about Nedry?" asked Clint, picking at his fingernails. Gail sighed again.
"InGen knew there was a weak link for some time."
"And Hammond sent you after that weak link?"
"I didn't say it was Hammond,'' said Gail abruptly, drumming her fingers again. Not Hammond? Who then? "Hannah, this still the way to the lab?" That's it for now then?
"Uh, yeah. We'll be through the pass soon, and then its gonna get pretty thick with jungle once we are over the other side of the mountains. The road should take us to the lab though. We should arrive at one of the rear entrances."
Gail grunted some sort of acknowledgement, and they all fell silent, just the rain pattering on the windshield and the wind rushing by through that missing door. Clint's neck prickled, for God knows how many reasons. The gun trained on him, his fear of being turned in, the gnawing guilt. Which is worse? Really need to get my excuses ready if I get put before St. Peter. He tried to shuffle his shoulders, but with the rope tied around his wrists he succeeded only in making his back itch. God, this is far worse.
The truck rumbled through the forest, the mountains ahead creeping ever closer through the gaps in the trees. Looming lumps of darkness that towered over them. Soon they were between the mountains, crossing through the steep valley and wending their way through new, twisting jungle roads. The change in environment happened like magic. Clint couldn't really tell when the forest he'd been used to had been replaced by the jungle around them. This island got stranger and stranger. What's next? Talking dinosaurs probably.
Clint began to feel his eyes closing. Maybe it was just the sheer exhaustion of the last few days, or the crushing feeling of being caught, of impending punishment, but he just couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. He just needed to rest, to ignore the constant voice in his head.
The truck skidded to a stop, the second he'd fully shut his eyelids. The squeal of the brake was harsh on his ears, and he looked up suddenly, gasping in a lungful of air. Was it time? Time to face the music? He expected the see the lab, but all he saw was dark jungle still. The hanging vines swaying in the breeze and the tapping of water as it ran of the large fungi that clung to some of the trees. He rubbed his eyes, pulling his hand down over his face and scratching at the rough growth around his chin.
"What's going…" he started.
"Shut up,'' said Gail quietly. Fuck. Had she changed her mind? Was this it? Taken out into the trees and shot? Tell her. Tell her everything. Wilson. Dodgson. All of it. "Hannah?" Gail's voice was firm, but Clint could hear the uncertainty. She was asking for guidance.
"She's wounded. If she'd wanted to attack, she'd have done it by now. Just keep the beam on her." Clint looked ahead, utterly lost and bemused. Then he saw her. Oh no.
Hellbitch stood in the middle of the road, just up ahead. The dinosaur was looking directly at them, transfixed it seemed by the lights of the truck. Clint looked at the animal. Blood was smeared across its jaw, its chest and along one of its hind legs. Gouge marks and gunshot wounds marked its body. And one in its tongue, which I put there.
Hellbitch stood her ground, gently raking the dirt of the road with a foot and twitching her head, that one long horn drawing circles in the air. Clint could see though that the animal was injured, exhausted. Something we have in common. She seemed to look right at him for a moment, her chest rising and falling. Do they hold grudges? I hope not.
"Why do we keep running into these things?" said Gail. Clint heard Lockwood shrug.
"They're carnivores. They hunt. They follow sounds, smells. And seems to me that you guys have been making a lot of noise recently. She's probably been following either you or anyone else blundering around this island."
"Give me my gun," said Gail. "And get ready. She comes at us, I'm going to be making a fair bit more noise."
"Just give it a second. She's acting defensively. She doesn't want to fight." Lockwood reached through and passed the pistol into Gail's waiting palm.
"Any chance you can tell her to get lost then?" Gail rested the barrel of her gun on the steering wheel, one finger hooked around the trigger.
"Just wait. Don't shoot at her."
"I'll do what I have to, to keep us alive,'' said Gail. "You realise this one tried to eat you?"
"Like I said, she's a carnivore. Its what they do." Lockwood sounded like the idea of any harm coming to the dinosaur was a bad one.
"You got soft spots for these things?" said Clint, never taking his eyes of the monster ahead.
"They're animals. I'm a vet. Suppose I need to have some sort of soft spot for them. Anyway, the carno's are unique. They can change their colours, blend into things." She was quiet for a moment. "They can be anything they want to be…"
"Well right now she looks pissed, and hungry,'' said Clint. "Any chance either of you will untie me should things go south?" Gail just slid her eyes to him and smiled.
"What do you think?" I think you're a beautiful bitch, and I can't decide if I want to kiss you or kill you.
Hellbitch sniffed at the air and took a step forward towards them, growling softly. Gail's hand twitched towards the stick, her thigh rising slightly, ready to stamp on the gas. Clint watched the dinosaur, the rain leaving its pink scales glistening, the blood on its body gleaming in the beam of the headlights. Hellbitch sniffed again, growled again. The engine of the truck revved slightly as Gail's foot applied some pressure to the pedal.
With a snort, the dinosaur tossed its head and moved towards them, crossing the distance alarmingly quickly. Clint felt his guts cramp up, waiting for the chaos to start. Again.
Hellbitch knocked her long horn into the side of the truck and then growled, shouldering her way into the jungle beside them and disappearing amongst the foliage. Clint could see her pale tail, swaying between the dark greenery before it vanished, a few cascades of rain falling off the branches as she lumbered away. Clint felt his legs untense, and he realised he had been clenching his hands. Gail let out a long breath.
"See,'' said Lockwood. "They don't always want to hunt."
"Mmm,'' rumbled Gail, frowning. She revved the truck up again and carried on, taking them deeper into the jungle.
The light was failing quickly, the approaching weather darkening the sky and making visibility poor. Looked like another storm. An encore, perhaps, from the hurricane. Just what I need. No doubt a bolt of lightening will hit the chopper just as we get airborne, crash landing us back here. Or it will just hit me, and save the tax-payer a few dollars sending me to the electric chair. Clint could feel his back itching again. Could have just been the humidity, which was becoming increasingly closer. The ropes around his wrists were beginning to chafe, and he squirmed, trying to find a bit more comfort.
The sky ahead of them ignited, a sudden flash rendering the jungle above a thrashing silhouette. The sky blazed bright yellow, the rain turning to flitting specs of fire, and then they heard the boom. At first Clint thought it was just lightening and then the thunder. But lightening doesn't blaze yellow, then orange, and the thunder doesn't sound like something had just detonated, nor does it vibrate through the earth until you can feel it through your feet.
"The hell…?" breathed Gail, leaning forward. Clint found he was doing the same, craning his neck to try and see more. The bright flash faded, returning the jungle canopy above to its usual shades of dark green.
They wound their way through more jungle, twisting turns and down a slight hillside, before finally emerging from the jungle into a wide area, hemmed in three sides by a huge building with glass fronted doors and windows, and several raised loading bays for what could have been cargo trucks, the shutter doors either half open or closed. The whole place was an inferno.
Something burned in the centre of the carnage, and Clint felt his heart drop into his feet when he realised it was the helicopter. It lay on one side, its tail bent and its rotors either missing or smouldering. A big hole was gaping in its side, like an open wound, a ball of fire twisted within, writhing and burning. Trails of burning oil or fuel criss-crossed the concrete bay, and the remains of what looked like barrels, crates and other storage containers smoked or burned amongst the wreckage. Shadows danced and jittered against the walls of the lab beyond, a picture of hell for certain. Why? We were so close.
Gail slowed the truck, taking in the scene with the hardest look Clint had ever seen. She turned it on him, and he wished he could shrink away from her. He managed a shrug, as best he could. She was not happy, her lips pursed together tightly.
"Sssss." She sounded like an angry snake, coiling, preparing to lash out. To strike something.
She drove the truck slowly towards the wreckage, skirting around the fireball of the chopper in the centre and crossing the burning lines of oil. The smell of thick, acrid smoke and burning wood filled Clint nose, and wafts of it blew in through the missing doorway. He could hear the hiss of the rain as it was evaporated by the blaze.
Gail brought the truck to a stop near the left-hand wall, the jungle flickering with firelight just behind them, dark shadows dancing away across the ground. Clint just stared at the remains of the helicopter. The remains of any hope of getting out of here. Was Wilson in there? My last hopes gone up in flames and charred to ash?
"What the hell are we going to do now?" he muttered. He looked at Gail. "Huh? What now?"
Gail shut the engine off and looked at him, the fire reflecting in her eyes, turning the twinkle murderous.
"Shut. Up." She looked past him, her eyes darting over everything.
"We got no way off this island now, you realise that? You are as fucked as I am." Clint found he almost enjoyed that idea. A little victory maybe.
"Do you really think I would pin everything on a helicopter I didn't organise myself?" sighed Gail. "This complicates things, certainly. But for now, shut up."
She unbuckled her belt and slid out of the truck, her pistol held low. Clint watched her move around the truck, out into the open space, weaving her way through the wreckage. She moved like a shadow, flitting between the spaces between the debris, her movements quick, measured. Before long she was the other side of the burning chopper, closer to the glass doors of the lab entrance. Clint wiggled his wrists together through his ropes, frowning as he watched her. His eyes slid to her open door. Could I run for it? I'm screwed every which way. What have I got to lose now?
He licked his lips nervously, his insides fluttering. He glanced at Lockwood. The vet was watching Gail, nervous as well. Probably not the same reason as him though. He slowly turned his body, preparing the leap across the seats to freedom.
The ground shook.
He spun his head around and watched a huge shape appear from the far edge of the jungle. It was one the big ones. The tyrannosaurs. Firelight flickered up its side's as it stepped away from the trees, its huge head panning the area. Clint watched, frozen in his seat, as that head panned towards them. He could just about make out the eyes amongst some dark marking around the orbits. He wanted to shrink away. Slid under the dash or something. The overwhelming need to hide was so sudden it almost made him squeak.
"Shit,'' breathed Lockwood. The giant took a step towards them and Clint began to feel his palms sweating.
"Hey,'' he hissed. "Untie me. Please." He looked at Lockwood, pleading. She glanced back at him, her teeth stuck into her bottom lip. She shook her head quickly, not saying anything. "Please!" More urgent this time. More desperate. "I don't want to die tied up like this! At least give me a chance!"
Clint looked back out the window towards the dinosaur. It was stalking the area, searching. What had it seen? Gail? Clint looked for her. She had vanished. Course she has. It was moving closer to them, the ground trembling with each step. Clints teeth rattled with every impact.
"Hannah!" he pleaded. Lockwood fidgeted with her hands and then grimaced, suddenly darting forward and tugging at something behind him. He felt a bit of the pressure release from around his wrists, a bit of movement restored. Lockwood sank back into her seat, trying to press herself into the far door, cowering away from the horribly open missing doorway in the truck. Clint wiggled his wrists a bit more and the ropes fell away, freeing his hands. He gasped, and then he slid down under the dash, trying to cram himself into the space beneath the glove box. It was nowhere near big enough.
The dinosaur was suddenly above them, towering over the truck. Clint could see its pale underside, and then the side of its flanks, a blueish colour turned orange by the nearby fires. He could hear its breathing, slow, steady, unhurried. It had all the time in the world to make him piss his pants. It began to lower its head, that massive skull coming down, closer towards the windows. Closer towards him. He saw its jaw appear, and the teeth, protruding from the upper lips. A row of dagger shaped weapons. He remembered the sight of Carlos, torn apart and devoured. Oh God, please not me.
It turned its head sideways, and that bright eye, surrounded by black scales, peered in through the open door, looking directly at Hannah. He heard Lockwood's intake of breath, and then there came the sound like a giant snake. A loud, long hiss. Sounded like air being let out of a huge tyre. The roar that followed felt like his ear drums were bursting in his skull. He screwed his eyes shut, wincing as the noise vibrated and shook through the truck and his entire body.
There was a loud bang and the truck shook. He bumped his head against the underside of the dash, and then the truck shook again. Metal groaned, screeched, and the world bounced from side to side for a moment. The chassis of the truck squealed the tyres thumped back down to the ground. The dinosaur hissed again, then growled loudly, its jaws clamping onto the truck through the open door. Clint could have reached out and touched its lower jaw.
The truck began to move, turning and jolting from side to side, and then up and down slightly. The dinosaur let go and nudged the truck again, biting again, almost as if it were sampling the taste of the truck. As if it were curious. The ground shook as the animal circled the truck, occasionally nudging it with its snout or placing a foot on it, bending the bodywork and leaving great dents. There were already gouge marks in the hood. For all its prodding and nudging though, the animal never seemed to fully attack. Not like that one had done to the monorail. This was different. Clint bumped from side to side, watching and waiting for it to tear apart the truck, but the minutes just went by with no indication the Rex wanted to get at them.
"What's it doing" Clint hissed. Lockwood glanced in his direction, her pale face appearing between the seats.
"She's playing." What? Playing? The truck jolted again as the dinosaur knocked the cargo bed with its foot. Again, Clint bumped his head. His shoulders began to ache from being hunched down under the dash in the footwell. "She might get bored." Lockwood looked like she didn't quite believe her own words though. I sure as shit don't.
The dinosaur then turned away, rolling its jaws and snorting. Clint couldn't quite believe it. It was if it had heard Lockwood and wanted to prove her right. Not that I am complaini…
The ceiling of the truck came crushing down towards them, the window pillars buckling and the remaining windows shattering, showering the interior with shards. Clint felt a few flash across his face, leaving little hot lines across his cheeks. Lockwood might have screamed. Might have just been the metal bending. He scrambled up onto the driver's seat. Now. Run for it. Straight into the trees.
The front of the truck spun around suddenly, the dinosaur growling and snorting. Was it still playing? Clint crawled away from the open driver's door as it swung on its hinges, unable to shut. Another impact sent him sprawling towards it, almost falling out. Shit!
There was a loud hiss again and a deafening roar, and then the roof started coming down again, the truck groaning. The huge jaws suddenly pushed in through the open door, opening slightly and hot fetid air rushing in, filling Clints nose with a foul stink.
Clint heard gunshots. The animal snarled, the sound of wet thuds making its head twist and jerk as it ripped its snout free of the truck. And then the world turned upside down. The crashing noise of the truck rolling over drowned out anything else, and Clint slammed down onto something hard, knocking his head.
Someone's arm slapped down in front of him. It was Lockwood. She had a cut on her face, blood dripping down across her cheek as she lay squashed against the bent ceiling of the truck. Outside, Clint could see the fires burning and a huge shape crashing through the wreckage, its shape twisting and changing as it thundered through the flames, bellowing.
Clint shook his head, trying to clear the fuzzy vision that was creeping in and the throbbing in his head. He crawled out of the truck, his palms raw against the ground. The roaring of the dinosaur seemed far away, but he could see it was close, stomping around the loading area, knocking debris aside and veering away from the larger flames. A smaller shadow darted between it all. Gail?
He felt a strange pang of concern for her. He shook his head again and crawled back to the truck. The vehicle had been fully flipped over, the tyres facing to the sky above, the rain tapping down onto the underside. He wiped water from his eyes and saw Lockwood struggling to crawl out of the truck. Why do I always do this? Just run!
He reached in and grabbed her hand, his fingers closing around her slim wrist. She wiggled free through the twisted window, clutching at his elbow.
"Ah my fucking knees!" she hissed. She winced her way to a crouch, leaning on Clint. "You're still an asshole. But thanks." Why do I do this indeed?
They peeked over the top of the truck, watching the tyrannosaur prowling the loading area, knocking smouldering crates from its path and kicking and stomping at other debris. Where was Gail? Was she dead? Was that a good thing maybe? He felt that pang of concern again. Lockwood nudged him.
"We have to get out of here!" she whispered at him. He nodded stupidly at her, trying to collect his thoughts. What about Gail? Fuck why do I care? He looked right, towards the dark eaves of the jungle. Then left, to the lab. He could see the glass doors, one or two of them open. Which way? Jungle and run for my life? Or lab and run for my life? At least in the lab you can ditch the vet guilt free.
He nodded at the building, Lockwood following his eyeline and seeing the open doors. Must have been about a hundred metres. A long way to go with a monster not far away. He found he was moving, making the decision for the both of them. Lockwood was following, close behind him.
He took a breath, summoning what little remained of his courage to move away from the cover of the truck and move out into the open. He felt horribly exposed and expected the massive animal to immediately look their way, sensing easy prey. Or just something new to play with. Both outcomes would end in a very painful death. But the dinosaur didn't look. It just carried on thundering around the bay area at the far side, occasionally roaring or snarling.
"Come on!" he grunted, and then they were moving quickly, darting across the concrete and flitting from wrecked crate to overturned barrel. Puddles of rain and oil lay before them, mingling and bleeding into each other. He splashed through all of them, the liquid soaking his already wet pants. He crouched low behind a wooden lump, the edge of it smoking and sizzling in the rain. It was warm to the touch. He eyed the dinosaur before carrying on, making sure of its line of sight.
They were unnoticed so far, and Lockwood gave him a shove, encouraging him on. The doors were within reach when the dinosaur turned its body and head in their direction. Whether it saw them or not, Clint didn't know. He and Lockwood tumbled in through the doors, finding themselves in a dark, open plan style office of some sort. A gallery landing above ran around the edge of the walls, and Clint could see multiple doors and corridors on both the upper floor and the ground.
They moved inside and crouched behind a desk, watching the animal outside thunder along past the burning remains of the chopper. Clint thought he saw a figure dart the other side, but he couldn't be sure. The flickering fires rendered shadows all over the place, dancing like fiery devils. They watched wide eyed for a few more moments, waiting. Waiting what for, Clint didn't really know. You know what you're waiting for. Or who.
He sank his teeth into his bottom lip, annoyed he couldn't find it in him to leave. She would have killed you. She still might, if she's not already dead. Go! Now! He growled angrily to himself just as a figure detached itself from a shadow on the left-hand wall outside, dashing towards them and the doors. The dinosaur had not seen the figure.
Clint watched as Gail darted past the wreckage of the chopper, avoiding the fiercest flames and vaulting over crates. Her hands were empty. She's lost her weapon! Or just tucked it in her belt maybe? Shit. The chopper exploded again.
A burst of fire and sparks erupted and boomed from near the bent tail, burning chunks of metal flying into the air or slamming against the walls, some smashing through the doors. Clint and Lockwood ducked down instinctively.
When he looked again, he could see Gail laying face down on the concrete, maybe twenty feet from the doors. She was moving slowly, her arms looking stiff as her hands sought out the ground in front of her. Clint caught a look at her face as light flickered. She was hurt. And now the tyrannosaur had seen her.
The monster was tossing its head, huffing at the fires around it and stamping. But it was steadily moving towards Gail, weaving its way between the fires. The tremors through the ground vibrated up through Clint's legs, like a hammer beating at his conscience. Just let it happen. She's your enemy.
He was up and moving towards her before he gave it anymore thought. Maybe he should have. As soon as he stepped outside he felt the heat from the fires and the rain on his face, and the terrifying realisation he'd been seen by the dinosaur. It roared again, a bit more aggressively this time. Not much didn't sound aggressive from a monster like that.
He reached Gail, hooking his hands under her armpits and pulling. She groaned, a hand flapping at him. He batted her away, dragging her up and somehow hoisting her over his shoulder. He cried out under her weight. A few days of no food and no sleep and he could feel his strength had leaked away. He glanced towards the approaching dinosaur, shocked at how close it was. It was skirting its way around the chopper, shying away from the largest flames and pushing its way towards him, its mouth and teeth becoming clearer and clearer with every shaking step. Now run! Run run!
He blew spit from between his clenched teeth, hissing with the effort of carrying Gail and looking at his destination, focusing on it. The doors looked a hundred miles away. Every step was an effort, and the ground shaking beneath him shredded his nerves to tatters. He was waiting for the teeth, the crushing pressure of those jaws, even as he crossed in through the doors. The noise of the burning wreckage and thundering giant shifted to being outside instead of just behind and around him, and the sudden lack of rain went unnoticed as he kept running, finally tumbling over a desk to the ground in a bundle of arms and legs with Gail, something on the desk thudded to the ground with them, followed by the sound of glass tinkling and cracking. A couple of items clattered away from Gail as she landed. One of them was her pistol, the other looked like a small black box.
The shrieking crash of metal and wood and the shattering of glass followed them as the tyrannosaur rammed its head in through the doors after them, snapping and biting. Clint peered over Gail's arm to see the dinosaurs head and neck were completely through the doorway, bent door frames and smashed glass all around it. Its huge shoulders and body were wedged up against the building, preventing it from fully following them in. The roaring and bellowing from the animal were deafeningly loud.
Clint rolled onto his back, propping himself on his elbows as he watched the animal writhe. It can't reach us. Whether it was the realisation or just three days of misery, but he felt his anger and frustration building suddenly, masquerading as courage, and he jumped to his feet, grabbing one of the fallen office chairs and hurling it at the animal, screaming at it. The chair thumped to the ground in front of the dinosaur and bounced once before knocking into its snout. It couldn't have been very hard, but it made the dinosaur stop its biting and thrashing. It looked at the chair, almost confused for a moment. And then it pulled its head away and began to walk away, its tail flicking from side to side like a giant, pissed of cat. Hah!
Clint felt the flush of victory, wanting to scream his defiance at the retreating monster as it moved back into the jungle, the tremors fading to dull vibrations. Probably best not to get to close to those doors though. I'll just stay here.
He turned back towards Gail, watching Lockwood help her up. Gail was on all fours, her hair fallen over her face. One cold eye looked out at him.
"Sssss. This changes nothing." Why am I not surprised? She gently pushed Lockwood away, rolling back to sit on her ass with her back to the desk. She patted her waist suddenly, a small gasp hissing from her lips. She looked about suddenly, and then she lunged for the small black box on the floor, grabbing it up and clipping it back to her belt. It was a pager. Why is she so worried about that? Clint had already moved to her pistol, dragging it from her reach with his boot. Best not take any chances. "You can have it,'' said Gail. "It's empty anyway."
"You could still hit me with it,'' said Clint, scooping up the weapon and checking the chamber and magazine. It was empty after all. Still, he tucked it into his waist band, feeling slightly better that at least she didn't have it. He gave her a quick look, waiting for her to spring at him. She just sat and watched quietly, holding her side and wincing slightly. Lockwood lifted her shirt to look, nodding slowly.
"Just a bit of bruising. Something probably hit you in that blast."
"Sssss." Those eyes narrowed a fraction more.
Clint frowned at her and walked around the desk, looking at the objects on the floor that had tumbled off when he collided with it. Two chrome suitcase lay on the floor, one of them open and its contents strewn across the carpet. Clint knelt and squinted, counting the small glass vials, all of them cracked or broken. The little light that there was caught the edge of the small vials, and Clint could just make out a strange yellowish liquid inside them, dribbling out onto the carpet. Typical lab paraphernalia most likely. Next to the scattered vials were sheets of paper in complete disarray. More lab paraphernalia, no doubt the scientific explanation to the mystifying horror of this island. A door banged suddenly, up on the gallery landing, and his hand closed on the sealed case on instinct. It was cold, icy cold. Then a voice. A very angry voice.
"…give a fuck! We need to find her! Now! She knows!" Wilson? Then another voice. Unfamiliar.
"Relax, eh? She can't have gone far, and she's hurt. We'll find her."
"You'd better. If she finds the communications room, I wouldn't put it past the emotionless bitch to find a way out of here. I don't need any more delays on this. He won't be happy." Clint watched as two men appeared from a doorway, one of them was Wilson. He didn't recognise the other. A bald man, with a beard. Two more men followed them, wearing dark clothing. They carried weapons. Clint found he was squeezing the case handle as he watched the men descend the steps into the office.
"And what if she's not alone?'' said the bald man.
"Well then I am sure you'll handle anyone else like you handled Denton,'' said Wilson irritably. "Let me get my research and the…"
Wilson froze, his eyes meeting Clint's and then flicking to the case in his hands, then to Gail, then Lockwood, then the ruined doors. Clint stared back, getting a good look at the other men. All of them wore hard looks. Hard looks to match the hard weapons in their hands, the barrels of the weapons rising slightly. He looked at Wilson, looking very much like part of the group. And a right pack of assholes at that. But they might be the answer. This might be my new ace.
There was a pregnant pause as Wilson looked at Clint, and a silence hung heavy between all of them. He knew. He knew who Clint was. Clint had been right. Wilson was staring at the case in Clint's hand now, a dangerous hunger and intensity in his eyes, and Clint realised what he was holding. He could see the cogs whirring in Wilson's eyes, calculating, figuring out just what advantage each person had. What risk was he prepared to take? What am I prepared to take? Lockwood stood up.
"Adam? Oh, thank God. Are…"
"The case Barker,'' said Wilson flatly, cutting across Lockwood without even looking at her. "Now." Clint's hand squeezed tighter. Hell no. This is the ticket. Clint shook his head slowly. Wilson sighed, pursing his lips tightly. Wilson motioned to one of the men. The barrel of a gun was suddenly pointing at Clint. How many times is that today? He stood his ground and pulled Gail pistol from his pants, pointing it at Wilson. "Don't be a fucking moron Barker. Hand that case over, and your brains won't end up on the floor."
"If they do, yours will be first." He made a point of aiming right between Wilson's eyes. "I know what's in this case, and I know why you need it. Now unless you want this case to end up like the other, get that prick to lower his gun." Wilson narrowed those eyes, his lips turning into a thin line of annoyance. He grunted to the man with the raised gun, who lowered it slowly.
"Adam,'' started Lockwood again. "What are you…"
"Shut up Hannah!'' spat Wilson. "Just fucking keep out of this." Lockwood looked like she had been physically slapped.
"I'm coming with you,'' said Clint. "I want off this island."
"I don't think so,'' said Wilson.
"It wasn't a request,'' said Clint, finding a bit more fight in himself. "You want this case? Well it stays with me. So I'm coming with you." Clint made a show of raising the case, the threat of smashing it down very much unsaid but clear as day. Wilson was quiet for a moment, then he huffed.
"Fine." He never took his eyes of Clint though. Cold eyes, Clint saw. Like Gail's. The eyes of someone willing to do whatever it took. I need to play this carefully. Don't back down. And watch that prick closely.
"What about them?" said the bald man, nodding at Gail and Lockwood. Wilson turned his eyes on them, and Clint could see those cogs whirring again. He knew what Wilson was going to say. And what do I care?
"No baggage. No witnesses,'' said Wilson. He looked at Hannah a moment. "Sorry Han. It's not personal."
One of the men walked over to them and pulled a handgun from the holster on his leg, his thumb pulling down on the firing hammer with an audible click. Clint watched it all happen in slow motion. Unable to stop it. Unable to look away from Lockwood's face as she realised what was about to happen. Unable to not feel Gail's cold, cold stare. Unable to ignore that gnawing in his stomach. Was this what I wanted? Is this who I am throwing my lot in with now? What was that about bad choices and bad people?
Gail's foot lashed out, kicking a nearby chair and sending it rolling hard into the man, his handgun firing off to the side and leaving a smoking hole in a computer monitor. In a blur she had moved, another kick sending the man sprawling away, and then she was dragging Lockwood with her over a desk as the man yelled from the floor. And then it was chaos. Automatic weapons fired, and the room erupted in shouts and gunfire. Chunks of desk and furniture flew into the air as a pair of shadows darted away between the desk, rolling and diving. Wilson was yelling, and then they were gone, vanishing down a corridor.
"What the fuck was that?" screamed Wilson, rounding on the men. "Or shall we just let everyone get away today? Fuck sake!" He pointed at Clint. "You. With us then. And you had best keep that case safe. You drop it, your dead. I don't need hangers on. I don't need any of this." He spat onto the floor. "This is turning to utter shit. Fuck this. Fuck them all. We just have to get out of here now. We head to the communications room. Now."
Clint followed after Wilson and the men, squeezing the cold case and Gail's empty pistol in his hands, his guts now churning, his heart hammering in his chest and his mind racing. Had he really just bartered his way off the island? Even if it was with these assholes? Is this really what I wanted? Is this really the right thing to do? Yes! To hell with everyone else. I want to survive.
Don't I?