C'est La Vie (Worm/MTG/Jurassic World) #01.3
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"BooroooBOOmm"
Glancing over, I frowned at the door to my little hideaway — cracked, to let light in — as thunder rolled outside.
That was… what? The fifth time since- No, if counting the one that had woken me up then that would be the sixth. So, six times in about an hour with the last few coming close together. It was getting worse out there.
A few old leaves blew in just then as the wind picked up for a moment. I felt the trees sway and some of the fliers were blown off course before landing.
It was almost getting too bad for them to be in the open.
In addition, where before the humidity hadn't been too bad, now it was almost stifling. Possibly the only saving grace was the seemed to have gone down a bit. Didn't change the fact that I could almost drink the air though. And then there was the ozone; now thick enough it couldn't be ignored even if I tried.
I'd been right, a storm was coming and had all the hallmarks of being a big one. What a wonderful start to my sentence.
Thanks, Contessa.
Rolling my shoulders — ignoring the muted twinges in my side — I slid a little further down the cool concrete wall I was sitting against and looked back down to my lap and the water damaged binder I'd found on the shelves after waking up and poking around a bit.
Not much to be found in it, unfortunately; half the pages had run together into a smudged mess or were altogether too faded to make out. What wasn't too damaged though...
The majority of the binder was recorded maintenance logs and feeding schedules, but little details and various notations did give me something to work with. Maybe not enough to pull a full history of the place like Lisa could have, but enough… also, the printed watermarks and footers helped.
Evidently, the T-Rex wasn't the only 'impossible' animal around. Not by a long shot if this place being called 'Jurassic Park' was any indication. Some sort of safari park stocked with dinosaurs if I understood things right.
I glanced down at my meager pile of supplies, "Hmm." Things might not be as easy as I'd initially assumed. Should I have been surprised at this point, though?
Flipping through a few more pages, but finding little more, I set the binder aside and looked back to my meager pile of supplies.
Pursing my lips I patted down my suit again, all but taking it off to get everything out. It still wasn't much. Sifting through the small pile I sorted the various items out into even smaller piles; it helped, just not by much.
For basic supplies, I had what amounted to half a first aid kit, twenty odd feet of silk cord, an emergency costume repair kit, a pocket notebook with pen, smartphone(dead), and a change purse. And for defense, I had my combat knife, an old pepper spray, and a collapsing baton. That was it… Oh, and one thermos jug I'd set down back at the river.
I looked back to the door… "Dammit."
No matter how I cut it there wasn't much to work with. If it had been a normal jungle, sure, but with what I'd learned… being out in the wild here might just get me killed if I didn't do things properly, swarm or no swarm.
Briefly rubbing my eyes I looked over at another, larger, pile made up of some of the things that had been on the shelves. Not that there'd been much there that I could use in the first place. This place seemed to have been meant as a supply depot for large scale repair and maintenance work or some such; many cans of grey paint, some orange and red light bulb covers, and dusty boxes of electrical equipment and water softener parts.
Some of it might be useful down the line, but what was I going to do with it now.
Not to say there wasn't anything promising, though; like a small plastic case with a few hypodermic darts inside. The labels had faded too much to tell what they were, but sticking them in something ought to have some effect. I added it to my pile.
Pulling a flaking red toolbox toward me, I flipped open the lid and rummaged around. I added a rusty — though hefty — flathead screwdriver my pile, a roll of black electrical tape, and a wood handled claw hammer.
There were a few other miscellaneous tools and supplies, but little else I could easily carry or use.
The bolt cutters would be useful to have, however, being down an arm would make them a bit difficult to use on a good day. If I could get leverage, though… I added them to the pile before looking to the door when the wind picked up again and a long peal of thunder rolled high above.
The weather was getting worse, and thinking back to the dry portion of the river I wondered how much rainfall — when it inevitably started pouring — it would take to put it under water.
At any rate, if wanted to get the thermos back it would be now or never.
Grabbing the baton, knife, silk cord and some other basics from my piles, I hauled myself off the cool floor but when my side pulled took a moment to stretch a little; if to keep my bruised side from getting too bad. At the same time, I brought my swarm out of cover where I'd stashed significant portions of them in the tunnel just down the road, in the jungle, and up the road.
I briefly looked at the shelf to where I'd set my flight pack and considered using that but just as quickly discarded it. Better to keep that in reserve and just walk, the river wasn't too far off anyway.
Cocking my head, I looked at the wall where a handful of fliers had been blown into what I'd thought was an overgrown tree stump and landed on a flat surface. I absently directed a few thousand fliers to it, then picked up a small oiler can and jammed the nozzle between the door and frame to pump a liberal amount of oil onto the old hinges.
I stopped as my swarm found edges and shapes and I formed a rough mental image of what looked like a signpost. Huh.
Setting the can aside, I put my shoulder against the door and slowly pushed it open a foot while searching about for any dinosaurs in range.
Dinosaurs, living breathing dinosaurs. That was going to take some getting used to.
Slipping through the gap my eyes were drawn to a large, overgrown tree trunk where a bit of red paint peeked out between a curtain of vegetation.
An overturned car, or rather a jeep if I wasn't mistaken. It was practically buried in plants and debris, but I'd definitely felt out some a few things I could use.
I glanced over to the vine covered signpost, then looking up to the leaden cloud layer that now hung ominously overhead shook my head.
Not the time to be a tourist.
It could start raining at any moment and I'd rather not lose my fliers while out in the bush.
Once I got back though, then I could poke around.
I retraced my harried flight from the river, following the path of destroyed vegetation through the jungle and soon enough I was stepping from the jungle into the rocky river clearing. I made a beeline for the stainless steel shine of the thermos jug pinched between a pair of rocks.
Reaching back to the compartment at the small of my back, I pulled out the silk cord and bent over to extricate the thermos. Still intact, fortunately, just a little dented.
Tying a loop through the handle, I slung the rest across my chest so the jug hung at my hip and began retracing my steps through the jungle again. This time, however, my head was on a swivel; I took my time looking around and soaking in the sights while collecting a few choice additions to the swarm I found along the way.
There was a rumble, but it had little to do with the storm overhead.
Fliers that had been scouting for me now pulled double duty swarming from bush to shrub and from tree to fern; sampling everything and looking for anything that might be edible.
Of course, there were other options, I could have my pick of whatever insect I wanted and birds could get trapped in webs just as easily as bugs could. Without a fire to cook either, though, neither would be very appetizing or possibly even safe to eat.
My stomach rumbled again. I might have no choice in the matter though.
I slowed to a stop as my swarm landed in a sprawling, low-lying shrub at three o'clock some hundred feet into the jungle at the edge of a small clearing.
The shrub had at some point been stripped bare in places, but despite that there were still a fair number of small, stiff skinned berries scattered about in the deeper recesses and untouched.
More importantly, however, I wasn't the only one looking at them. A number of small, long-necked lizards — or dinosaurs as they stood on their hind legs — were working themselves throughout the shrub and snapping up the berries as fast as they could. Almost like a bird would with crumbs.
They were eating the berries though, so they were most likely edible. But they were eating the berries that were edible.
When my stomach rumbled the swarm descended and I pulled out my baton, extending the black rod with a sharp flick of the wrist.
I veered off into the jungle while the little dinosaurs scattered into the brush under the assault of my swarm. One of them though… one, I harried and herded in my direction until a fern rustled and a lime green shape came bursting through the brush. Aiming for the fly on its head my baton flicked out.
The muted "Crack" was almost inaudible against the sounds of the jungle and my swarm. Nevertheless, I heard it, and I felt the vertebrae giving way through the baton.
Re-stowing the baton and picking up the twitching dinosaur I continued on while looking it over. Feeling the muscle in its legs, tail, and back, I felt along its broken neck and pulled down its lips to expose rows of sharp little canines. Definitely a not a herbivore then
Probably some sort of scavenger. Like the dinosaur equivalent of a rat or something.
It was a little heavier than I'd've thought, though. Almost two pounds at a guess… and there had been an awful lot of them.
If I could get a bunch of them and a way to light a fire, figure out how to skin them and make a spit I… I blinked.
It had been a dinosaur. It had been a living, breathing dinosaur and I'd killed it… and all I could think of at the moment was if it I could eat it.
Well, they were supposed to be related to birds so there was a chance it tasted like chicken.
Almost immediately my mouth started to water a little at the thought of chicken, which led to me wonder if it tasted like chicken or not and what... Oh god. I haven't been here a day and I was already thinking about whether a dinosaur tasted like chicken or not. What was wrong with me?
Then again, was that anything special? It was a living, breathing dinosaur, but so what? A living, breathing dinosaur had tried to eat me not a few hours ago, so… actually, I don't think I was going to get too worked up over killing a dinosaur.
If it tasted like chicken, then all the better.
Putting a loop of cord around its long neck I let it hang alongside the jug and continued onto the shrub to find ten-foot area covered with oval green leaves and red berries. Jackpot.
Once I got close though, the appearance of the leaves and berries jogged something loose and I just knew I'd seen these the shrub before. No matter how I tried to recall it though I couldn't get more than a vague recollection of a wildlife documentary... Something to do with bears.
Plucking a berry from a stem I brushed it off on my costume — not that it would do much to clean it — and popped it into my mouth. The skin was firm, almost hard, and resisted before bursting and it was… bland. Gritty too, very gritty, almost like there were tiny little beads in it. Granular was the term?
Different, but I wasn't going to complain. No taste was better than a bad taste anyway.
Wading into the shrub I began stripping the stems and filling my various pockets and suit compartments until they were almost spilling out. Then I opened the thermos and filled that too. And when that was full… With a handful of berries, I patted down my suit looking for one extra pocket I might have missed in the mishmash construction. Uh... nope.
This was going to be a problem.
I considered just tossing them for a moment before throwing back another and making my way back to the path. By the time I made it back to the road I'd finished them off and my stomach had settled somewhat.
Leaving the trees, I started across the road before stopping to look at the hidden jeep then the sign... I sent the swarm to take a closer look at the overturned vehicle while I head for the sign, pulling down and pushing aside vines to uncover a dirty painted bit of plywood cut in the shape of a tooth, or inverted teardrop; green in the center, white along the border.
...An island. I was on an island.
My eyes drifted down to the other signs on the post.
"Visitors center… Triceratops," Reading out the signs I looked up the road where an arrow above the 'Visitors Center' sign pointed, then to the left to the broken fence where the Triceratops arrow pointed.
An island turned into some kind of safari park populated with dinosaurs… Where the hell was I? Land of the Lost? The Lost World? Doyle sure didn't mention a T-Rex or little green dino's in his story, though.
Sighing, I dismissed the speculation and concentrated on the sign of the island.
If I kept heading up the road I would eventually come to the so-called 'visitors center'. But how far away was that? How big was the island?
I couldn't tell, not with what I had and not with so little context as to the distances depicted. As far as I knew the island could be as small as Hawaii or as big as New Zealand and the visitors center was twenty miles away.
Conversely, It looked like if I cut through the center of the island I might be able to shorten up the trip significantly. But again, distances and context.
Looking at the rock face I followed the steep mountain side until I was looking up to the peak.
If I could get up somewhere high though, then I could get a lay of the land...
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