Jurassic Park: Purgatory

Prologue

Heavy rain lashed down onto the docks, whipped into a frenzy by the storm winds, the drops picked out like fiery bullets in the spotlights of the pier. The roar of the ocean was like the angry bellow of a beast challenging the force of nature that was ravaging the island. The tall poles of the spotlights groaned as they swayed in the winds. Clint Barker, clenching the service phone with white, soaked fingers, gritted his teeth as another barrage of sea water surged up onto the pier and washed past him. The noise of the rain battering his yellow waterproof almost drowned out the voice on the other end of the phone. Regardless, he forged on with the urgent conversation he was part of.

"There's nothing I can do! The captain says we gotta go, we gotta go!"

The frantic voice from the earpiece was barely audible, but he caught the words as the surging ocean settled for a few moments.

"No no no, listen to me! You gotta give me the time. I did a test run of this thing and it took me twenty minutes! I thought I could maybe push eighteen, but you gotta give me fifteen minutes, give me the fifteen minutes!"

"No promises!" said Clint, hanging up the phone. Fucking Nedry, he thought angrily. If he doesn't get those embryos to the drop point, then we are all screwed.

He bowed his head and pointlessly tried pulling his hood up for the seventh time against the storm before it was ripped off his head to flap around his back. Reaching the boarding steps and hopping off the pier onto the bottom platform against the ship, he grasped the rail and took the stairs two at a time, getting fleeting glimpses of the docks and the heaving jungle beyond in the sporadic flashes of lightening. As he climbed, the light illuminated the words The Endeavour on the hull of the ship.

Reaching the top, he darted through the service door into the ships interior and immediately noticed the noise of the storm outside instead of all around him. He needed to head to the bridge. Captain Williams was unlikely to wait another five minutes, let alone fifteen, but he had to at least try. Dennis Nedry might have been a fat, obnoxious parasite but at this moment in time he was the only hope that Biosyn and Dodgson had of competing with InGen in this genetics race that he was somehow a part of. That and I can get Dodgson and his fucking agenda off my back.

The ship lurched against the pier on another wave and Clint lost his footing, bumping his shoulder against the wall as he wove his way towards the ships helm. The stairs to the bridge suddenly appeared to his left and he made his way up them and stepped into the bridge. Captain Gary Williams was stood, radio halfway to his mouth as Clint approached him. Thank Christ, he's alone. Should be slightly easier to persuade him to hang on a bit longer now.

The radio crackled and Captain Williams growled into it.

'Right. That's the last of them. We've already run over and if we miss the tide we will never make it to Sorna. Get those engines fired. We are departing!" Clint Barker froze mid-step as he realised he was out of time. Nedry was never going to make it now. A member of the crew suddenly appeared behind him and took the helms wheel and the rumble of the ships engines revved up and vibrated through the ship. The Captain turned to Clint.

"Barker? Shouldn't you be below decks? I thought I put you in charge of the oil levels?"

"Aye sir. I just wanted to…" He paused. Wanted to what? Threaten you and the rest of the crew at gun point into waiting for Nedry to arrive? In whose world was that explainable? His fingers twitched towards the 9mm he kept in his waist band. Then he sighed. He was screwed. The Captain had called for departure, and that was now final. The ship was ocean bound now to Sorna. Nedry would have to find another way to the drop point on Site B.

"Nothing sir. Thought I left my tools up here earlier. I'll be below decks."

Clint Barker headed back down the stairs, his mind ticking over with all the excuses he would give Dodgson as to why Nedry wasn't on the ship.

Outside, the ship lurched and rocked away from the docks, leaving Nublar behind at the mercy of the hurricane.

Clint made his way down the corridors, pushing past people of various nationalities. A hubbub of shouts and raised voices fought to be heard above the growing roar of the engines as he descended towards the fuel room. Flashes of different faces went by, gradually fading to the occasional person making their way to their station or about their own business, probably glad to be getting off Nublar and heading home via the various aircraft based at Sorna. The pricks, thought Clint. He envied them their lives at that moment.

The lights grew dimmer and the gloom increased, seeming to seep from the corners of the corridors, now deserted except for the clanging sound of Clint's boots on the floor. His thoughts kept him occupied as he reached the fuel room, fumbling in his pockets for the key to give him access. Soggy bits of paper stuck to his hand as he inspected the results of his search. The key sat in his palm along with his lighter and a spare magazine, already loaded with 9mm rounds. Muttering, he unlocked the door and went inside, leaving the open door swinging as the ship rocked against the heaving swells of the sea.

A shadow detached itself from a dark recess as the man in the yellow coat stood at the door, rummaging in his pockets for something. The flickering lights bounced off the collected water on his coat, making it shimmer. Eyes, cold and emotionless watched the man with a reptilian like calculation. With an intake of breath that was more like a hiss, the shadow swept after the man and followed him through the doorway, melting into the shadows within the room silently.