Disclaimer: I do not own the Jurassic Park/World franchise or any of it's characters; I only own the characters and plots of my own mind.
28. Hitting the Fan
"This is bad…" muttered Frank. He, Gwyn, and Owen stood in the now open doorway of a maintenance door. They were on ground level of the paddock, where Gwyn had never been before. The air was thick and humid, it smelled of mulch and foliage and something a little rotten. It was eerily quiet. The construction had been put on hold, so even the zap of welding equipment had gone silent. It put every single one of Gwyn's hairs on end, and every nerve in her body was on high-alert. How could something like this could have happened again? For a fourth time? The paddock constantly had eyes on it and in it.
"That's an understatement," deadpanned Gwyn. They all filed into the paddock, walking slowly despite the fact that there was nothing there to detect their movement. But being inside any dinosaur paddock was anxiety inducing, even if they weren't there. There was just a sense of danger about being in their space period. It had taken every bit of strength and sanity Gwyn had left to agree to enter the paddock. But Ingrid wasn't inside. And it was probably better to be inside the empty paddock than outside with a free roaming dinosaur. But a chill still rolled up Gwyn's spine as she set foot on the mulch she'd seen Ingrid trod across dozens of times before. It was soft and squished under her feet. "You're an attentive man, Frank, how did you not see her climb the wall?"
Frank's shoulders rose and fell in a nervous shrug; his fingers itched at his forearm. "There was a scheduling mess up today. I got here at noon and the other guy left at eleven-fifty."
"What about the construction guys? The guards?"
"Construction get an hour for lunch, the guards get thirty but they do it in shifts. Everyone usually gets back here at noon."
Gwyn felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. "So, essentially, this place was completely unsupervised for ten minutes?"
"Guess so."
"Jesus Christ…" she bit out under her breath. The day had taken the worst turn it could, and it was still turning towards getting even worse.
It was easy to feel small inside the paddock. The walls were massive. The trees felt too tall. Gwyn felt like she'd walked into some Alice in Wonderland type situation where she'd been shrunk down to the size of a mouse. But she knew that wasn't the case. She knew that she was just being given a new dose of perspective––one that confirmed how horrifying the Indominus would be from ground level. It was a reminder that Ingrid was free roaming, and just how bad that was. It dredged up faint memories of a tyrannosaurus-rex silhouetted in sheeting rain and flashes of lightning. With a shake of her head, Gwyn tried to banish the memory, but it lurked in the back of her mind like a ghost.
"You okay?" Owen asked lowly. He hung back in order to be in-step with Gwyn, though his eyes continued to make slow, calculated sweeps of the paddock. Perhaps it was a military tactic he'd learned––how to survey and assess dangerous area.
"I dunno," Gwyn replied. Her hands were fisted in the pockets of her shorts and her arms were pressed tight against her sides. "I feel on edge, and like I could cry at any moment. I never really… prepared for this to be an eventuality. I think I got too comfortable. Eventuality became probability to me, when in reality it was always an eventuality…" Gwyn let out a shaky breath and shook her head stiffly. "I might lose it in a bit, just a warning. I think I'm barely clinging to sanity, here."
A hand, comforting and warm, appeared at the small of her back. It was a gentle, subtle reassurance that Owen would be there if she did lose it. It was enough to soothe her spiked nerves, but it wasn't enough to resolve them. The only thing that could do that was having the Indominus back in the paddock. But Gwyn appreciated the sentiment none-the-less and nodded to let him know that.
By the time they reached the marked up wall, they were greeted by a paddock guard. He looked just as dumbfounded as everyone felt. Owen approached the wall and reached out and ran his hand along one of the scratches, the gesture thoughtful. Calculating. Gwyn crossed her arms uncomfortably and shot a look over her shoulder. Her eyes swept across the thicket of jungle behind them, and lingered on the spot where Irene had been slaughtered. Where her blood likely still saturated the dirt. Her stomach turned nauseatingly.
"That wall is forty feet high," said the guard.
Gwyn turned her attention away from the murder site of the second Indominus, and approached the cluster of men. She came to stand just behind Owen, stepping over the picked-clean carcass of a steer. She, like the others, tilted her head back to stare up at the intimidating height of the walls.
"Last time I was here, the Indominus was close to twenty feet tall; and these walls aren't even finished being built, so they're shorter in some areas––like this one––than others," Gwyn pointed out. She gestured to the top of the wall, which was, indeed, a chunk shorter than the surrounding areas.
"But, still––do you really think she could climb out?" asked Frank, hands migrating to his hips. He was squinting up at the sky, as though trying to picture the massive dinosaur clamouring over the wall. It was quite a site to imagine, especially considering that Ingrid was larger than a t-rex.
"It depends," Owen replied.
"On what?"
"What kind of dinosaur they cooked up in that lab…" Owen twisted around to look at Gwyn, his brows furrowing in a manner that meant business. "And they really didn't tell you what was in that thing?"
She shook her head. "No. I was told about the genome, then left to my own devices. Some of its traits could even potentially be tracked to modern mammals, but I can't say anything for sure. I have inferences, but… I've been at a loss for months. If I can get my notes back from the lab, I could let you have a look."
"Dangerous coincidence, huh? No one being here to see her escape," Frank pointed out. Gwyn's lips pursed and pulled into a grimace. One of her hands crept to the back of her neck; her fingertips pressed into her skin, fingernails cutting crescent marks into it.
"Unless it wasn't," Gwyn drawled.
"Huh?"
"Unless it wasn't a coincidence," she clarified. "Dinosaurs are extremely intelligent, more than what we give them credit for. The Indominus was able to predict feeding patterns, who's to say she didn't pick up on when people routinely leave and return to the paddock?"
Suddenly, a staticky hiss came from the radio situated on Frank's shoulder. It started to crackle as words cut in and out, an attempt to relay a message of some sort.
"Pad-–Elev––s––Co-rol! You need t––vac––th–tain–area!"
The message was indecipherable, but whoever was delivering it was clearly excited. Their voice sounded rushed, anxiously pitched. It was enough to set Gwyn's already tingling nerves back on edge. The hair on the back of her neck rose sharply, uncomfortably. She eyed the radio on Frank's belt with confusion crinkling her forehead. Then, the voice, though warbly, cut into the air again.
"Paddock Eleven, do you copy!?" desperately inquired a woman.
Frank turned to speak into the receiver attached to the shoulder of his shirt, pinching the call button. "Yeah, what's the problem?"
"It's in the cage, it's in there with you!"
The reaction was instantaneous.
Gwyn started to run before the word 'go' could even leave Owen's mouth. Her body instantly switched into flight mode, heart in her throat, stomach in her feet.
The run to the maintenance door was short enough, but too long given the situation. And the situation presented itself fully halfway to that door. Out from the trees, which cracked and snapped as they were roughly brushed aside, stepped the Indominus. The ground shook with the steps she took. The way she towered over them was almost comic; she was horrifically tall, even hunched in her hunting stance. Gwyn's mouth dropped open like she might scream, but the sound choked in the back of her throat as she skidded to an unsteady stop. She felt like she was a child's toy, small and vulnerable, moments away from being crushed under foot. A low rumbling in Ingrid's chest––a barely vocalized sound––rattled and vibrated Gwyn's bones; it made her muscles feel like jelly and her blood feel like goo. It was a sound that had some sort of deep-rooted sense of absolute terror. It left her frozen and staring up at Ingrid, who narrowed her red eyes back down at them. Gwyn felt her stomach clench and flip, once again under the terrifically horrifying gaze of an apex predator. It was then, as Ingrid honed in on her prey, that Ingrid reared back and growled, claws flexing.
Gwyn tore around, accidentally shoulder-checked Owen, and began to run back the way they'd come. The ground shook as Ingrid took a step forward––there was a scream, the sound of which swept upwards, as the paddock guard was swept off the ground. There was a wet crunch followed by silence. There was no question what had happened to him, and there was no time to turn back and check. Gwyn's eyes were blown wide and her lungs and throat burned from how fast and hard she was breathing. One might have wondered what she was thinking in that moment––whether she was thinking t-rexes and shattering glass and crushed cars. But there were no coherent thoughts running through her head. There was only a mantra: get the hell out of the paddock. And, luckily, Frank had given them a way out.
The paddock door was inching open, giving them a glimpse at freedom. They could see the paddock parking area, where people had started to gather in front of the opening door. Frank squeezed through, a look of horror on his face as he stared up into the trees. There were gut-wrenching crunching sounds and squelches interspersed with the satisfied grunting of the Indominus Rex. Gwyn could only guess what horrifying sight Frank had just witnessed––a colleague being chomped in half, blood spraying, viscera falling. But, just as the door was half-way open, it started to close again.
"Shit!" Owen exclaimed.
There was a mighty, high-pitched roar, accompanied by the thunderous thumping of giant, moving feet. Ingrid had finished her meal, and now she'd honed in on her next course. Gwyn could feel dirt and dead leaves kicking up from under her feet, flinging back up onto the bare skin of her calves. She could hear Owen, just a few steps behind her, panting hard. Her eyes were focused on the door, which was closing too fast for her liking. But she made it through, her back skirting against stone and metal, and so did Owen––but just barely. Despite being free, however, they didn't stop running. And it was a good thing, too, because judging by the overwhelming crunch and crack of stone, the creaking of metal, and the displeased roar, the Indominus had also made it to the door in time.
Gwyn was set to keep on running––run till she hit the coast and then from there, swim. Anything to escape. But her hazy, nonsensical plan was diverted with a hand grabbed her own and yanked her to the ground. Her back hit the hot gravel, shoulder stinging from the force of the pull, and before she could register what had just happened, she was dragged. The heat of the sun was replaced by the coolness of shade. It took her a moment, but she realized that Owen had dragged her under one of the massive construction vehicles. Gwyn stared up at the underside of that vehicle with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, but that didn't mean that she couldn't hear what was happening around her. She could hear stone hit gravel. Hear Ingrid grunt and growl. Gwyn could feel every step that the dinosaur took, the ground trembling beneath her. The footsteps were slow and purposeful.
Beside her, Owen shifted slowly, carefully. He was tracking Ingrid's movements. Stiffly, Gwyn turned her head to the side and saw a pair of legs sticking out from in front of an adjacent truck. It was Frank. But underneath that truck, she could see something else––Ingrid's feet. She was stalking around the other side of the vehicle. Gwyn wanted to warn him––warn a friend, a colleague––but instinct for self-preservation prevented her from even considering that as an option. If she called out, she gave away their position. But a sharp, audible inhale still squeaked through Gwyn's throat; Owen's hand, hot and dusty, clamped down over her mouth to keep her quiet. Her eyes darted towards him, and he held a finger up to his lips.
Together they watched as the truck became airborne, flipped with the might of a monstrous arm. The hand that had clamped over Gwyn's mouth disappeared, and instead Owen practically threw himself over Gwyn, curling around her protectively. Her hands instinctively rose to clutch at him, her face turned into his neck. For a moment, there was silence. Then the ground shook as the truck landed beside them, mere feet to the left. Metal groaned as it settled, now crushed and crumpled like a piece of paper. A cloud of dust washed over the two cowering beneath the vehicle, coating them in a thin layer of white debris.
For a moment, there was silence.
Gwyn felt Owen lift his head, but she kept her eyes scrunched shut.
And then there was a rush of air––a large exhale––and the telltale squelching sound of teeth sinking into flesh.
The words 'oh god' stuck in Gwyn's throat, only vocalized as a choked gag. Owen rolled off from atop her, and she suddenly felt incredibly exposed. Her hands flopped back down at her sides uselessly, fingers shaking violently. They pressed into the gravel for lack of anything else to hold on to anymore. The next thing she knew, Owen had wrenched the knife off his belt, cut the gas line over their heads, and doused them in gasoline. It splattered across her torso and face, and she fought the urge to sputter. It stank, but the stench was sobering. Unfortunately, sobering up meant that Gwyn felt her entire body go tense, painfully so. The ground started to tremble again as Ingrid started to inch closer. Owen's hand grabbed hers and held it so tightly Gwyn was sure some of her knuckles popped. The quietest 'sh' passed between his lips. She understood what he was trying to convey––stay still and be quiet. She wasn't sure if she would be able to move or make sound even if she wanted to.
Boom. One step.
Boom. Another.
Boom. She was closer.
Then the footsteps stopped.
There was a great, rumbling groan, which grew closer and louder. It sounded like Gwyn was listening to metal creak underwater; the sound was distorted and low, but bone-chilling. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach. From the corner of her eye, she could see Ingrid's muzzle lower to the ground, just beside their hiding spot. Red was smeared across the white skin stretched across the jawline. Gwyn stared at the large blood stained teeth, a sight that she was unfortunately familiar with. Those teeth parted, almost curiously, and allowed daylight to cut between them. Large nostrils flared as they sniffed, searching for a scent that couldn't be found. Then, with a heaved exhale, Ingrid turned her muzzle towards the car. The breath was hot and putrid, it smelled like rotting meat and blood; it was, again, something too familiar to Gwyn. She resisted the urge to gag, despite the way her stomach lurched and rolled.
It felt like they lied there forever, waiting for something to happen. Gwyn worried that Ingrid would be able to hear her erratic heartbeat. That she would accidentally breath to loud and give away their hiding spot; because it was taking everything in her not to scream and cry in utter terror. One wrong move from either of them, and they'd be dead. Then, with a final, displeased screech, Ingrid raised her head. Her foot stomped down beside them, her tail whipped, and she started to lumber away. Gwyn listened and felt as the dinosaur's footfalls disappeared into the distance.
Gwyn stared up at the underside of the vehicle with wide eyes; the paleontologist felt frozen to the hot gravel beneath her. It was happening again. There was a bloodthirsty monster on the loose, poised to kill whatever got in its way, whatever it sought out to eat, and anything it damn well pleased. It hadn't seemed real earlier, when they thought they'd been alone in the paddock. It seemed like a nightmare, just removed beyond the reality of life. But now, having stared death in the face again, it was too much of a reality. Gwyn, who shook like an autumn leaf, shifted onto her stomach and began to extract herself from beneath the vehicle. One hand shot upwards to cling to the door handle, which she used to haul herself upwards. The world seemed off kilter, almost like it was swaying around her. The heat suddenly swelled. The sun brightened. The smell of gasoline strengthened. Her heartbeat droned on in her ears, drowning out any other sound.
Gwyn screamed the scream that she'd been holding back when something grabbed hold of her arms. It was short but it was terrified. She immediately wrenched herself out of the hands that had come to steady her, threw herself into the side of the vehicle. She slid towards the ground, trembling uncontrollably. Gwyn's hands rose to hide her face and her legs splayed out across the gravel, which scraped across her skin. She'd slouched sideways against the massive tire like a cowering child. She hunched forward, braced one hand against the ground, and hung her head.
"Oh, god…" Gwyn groaned. Her right hand clamped over her mouth and her brows furrowed as her stomach flip-flopped unpleasantly. Bile rose up in her throat, a warning that her stomach was trying to empty itself.
"Gwyn?" Owen probed, dropping to his knees beside her.
A groan pushed past her lips, and she shifted uncomfortably. "I think I may be sick…"
"Gwyn, are you alright?" he asked, placing a hand on her back.
Gwyn's right hand fell away from her mouth and braced itself against the ground. A few deep breaths proved to settle her stomach just enough to be bearable. But her body still trembled. Her heart still raced. The weight of the situation they now found themselves in was continuing to settle on her shoulders, weighing her down more and more, pushing her towards the ground.
"It's happening again… all of it…" she exhaled shakily. "No, no, no, no, no…" The next breath that she took was inhaled sharply; and then it left her body in a gut-wrenching sob. She continued to mutter 'no' between sobs for lack of anything else to say.
Gwyn felt Owen gather her into his arms and hold her tightly against his chest. One of his hands cradled the back of her head, holding it against the crook of his neck. He smelled like gasoline and sweat. His shirt was damp and so was his skin. Gwyn clung to the front of his gasoline soaked shirt and sobbed into his shoulder, body heaving against his. For the first time, she really, truly felt eleven years-old again. She felt small. She felt fragile. She felt lost. She felt scared. It felt like life had taken her by the collar of her shirt and thrown her back some twentyish years to relive the worst day of her life.
But now the worst day of Gwyn's life was a reality to Owen, as well. He was experiencing the horror himself, not just reading it in Alan's book, or hearing it from her mouth. It wasn't just a story that Gwyn repeated, deadpanning the details to keep herself removed from the pain. It was real and it was happening to them. Owen clung to her just as tightly as she clung to him. His arm was vice-like around her waist, and the hand that sat on the back of her head rest there heavily. His fingers had curled into her hair and pressed against her scalp. Gwyn could feel his heart pounding just as hard and fast as hers was. Owen wasn't just holding her to comfort her; he was holding her because he, too, was scared.
Eventually, Gwyn's sobs subsided. Her breathing was uneven and it stuttered every once and awhile. Horror still tingled in the tips of her fingers and toes. But something else started to build, deep in the pit of her stomach. Something acidlike and hot and dangerous. It was anger.
"They tried to close us in…" Gwyn's voice was so quiet and broken she'd practically just mouthed the words against Owen's shoulder. "They tried to close us in." This time she spoke louder, tone hardened.
Gwyn tore away from Owen and scrambled to her feet; gravel was pressed into her skin, and it slowly dropped away and left red marks and scratches on her shins. Hair, which had previously been tied back, fell loose and tangled around and across her face. She stared at the destroyed entrance to the Indominus paddock. The door, made of multiple tons of reinforced steel, looked like it had been torn open like wrapping paper. The stone to the left side of it was cracked and crumbled away. It looked like an explosion had ripped through the walls. And in the ruin of the paddock wall, Gwyn could foresee the potential ruin of her own life––she could see herself not making it off the island alive, feel the dread of that possibility clawing up her back sharply. It was the same feeling that had risen within her all those years ago; accept this time, she felt like she could do something about it.
She could fight back.
OOOO
When the elevator doors to headquarters opened, half of the room turned around to see who'd arrived. Gwyn was the first one out of the elevator, and she set the tone for the conversation about to happen. Her boots clomped against the floor in angry steps, dislodging dirt and dust as she went. It was clear to everyone there––namely Lowery, who watched, concerned, from his chair at his monitor desk––that Gwyn had been put through hell. Mud and dirt were spattered up the back of her legs, dried and flaking. Cuts from pieces of gravel dotted her calves. And as she swept by, a perfume of gasoline, sweat, and dirt followed in her wake.
"I need to see a badge," stated a security officer dressed in a pristine suit. "Ma'am––I need to see a badge."
"Screw off, buddy," Gwyn hissed.
"Ma'am." The guard stretched an arm out to prevent her from approaching either Claire or Masrani, who had twisted around to watch her entrance. As not to test her luck, Gwyn didn't push past the guard, but did content herself to glare across the distance. Her lips were almost snarling and her breathing had started to quicken; the beating of her heart was racing again, but this time in frustration.
"What the hell was that!?" Gwyn exclaimed. Her great displeasure was evident in the acridness of her tone, which carried over the room with alarming power. Claire gaped at her wide-eyed and open mouthed. Her eyelids fluttered and her lips started to try and form words. When she lifted a hand, which was splayed out placatingly, Gwyn jabbed a finger in Claire's direction. "No. No excuses. What the hell happened back there?"
Before Claire could get a word out, Owen stormed into the conversation.
"There are thermal cameras all over that paddock; she did not just disappear!" he exclaimed. The guard shifted his attention to Owen and threw his other arm up to block him. In pure annoyance, however, Owen batted the arm away. When it was clear that neither party was about to attack anyone––and with a vague nod from Masrani––the guard moved aside with a quiet sigh.
"It must have been some kind of a… technical malfunction," Claire reasoned, voice even and professional. She then turned her back, bringing her attention to the massive expanse of monitors and video feeds.
"Was it a technical malfunction that set the door closing?" Gwyn asked. Claire pursed her lips and looked down at her feet guiltily; though her eyes did dart towards Masrani, who had a similar reaction. "You nearly closed us in with that thing, you nearly killed us."
"Were you not watching? She marked up that wall as a distraction she wanted us to think she escaped!" he snapped, taking a few pointed steps forward. That statement was all it took for Claire to whip back around and march straight up to Owen. She stared up at him with pursed lips, her expression a quiet warning.
"Hold on," she uttered in a hushed tone. "We are talking about an animal here."
Gwyn crossed her arms and snorted. Claire, who seemed startled by the sound, swapped her attention to Gwyn, hair swishing around her face. The paleontologist arched her eyebrows pointedly.
"Yeah, we are. A velociraptor is an animal, too, and it learned how to open doors," she drawled. One hand rose to fall flat against her chest, fingers brushing along the smooth scarring there. "Ingrid could predict feeding patterns. And, if what you said is true, she can recognize people, and when they are and are not there. She's smart. And if we don't take that into account, this park is gonna be soaked in blood by the end of the day."
"These are highly intelligent animals," Owen backed up, drawling the words as though speaking to a naughty child. He had leaned forward at the waist, punctuating the words 'highly intelligent' with sharp movements of his hand.
"Four hundred meters to the beacon," said a woman, whose voice sounded much like the one that had warned them at the paddock.
Simultaneously, everyone turned their attention to the wall of monitors. It was only then that Gwyn realized what they were looking at. Four video feeds of body cams. Eight vital sign monitors for eight members of the Asset Containment Unit. A map tracking the ACU's progress into the restricted area of jungle beyond the resort. They'd been sent out to track Ingrid, and judging by body-cam footage, they were at the proper location. They all watched as the ACU ventured into the jungle, weapons bared before them.
"You're going after her with non-lethals?" breathed Owen in horror.
"We have twenty-six-million invested in that asset. We can't just kill it," Masrani informed evenly. A scoff launched out of Gwyn's mouth and Owen shook his head.
"Screw the money, it's a highly advanced killing machine," stated Gwyn incredulously. She twisted around to look at Masrani, expression matching her tone. The hand that sat on her chest pulled away to jab a thumb at the monitors. "Do you think tasers and tranq guns are gonna take this thing out? This isn't a zebra, it's a twenty-foot tall carnivorous dinosaur."
"Those men are gonna die," Owen agreed in a near whisper.
"Three-hundred meters to the beacon," stated the woman.
"Pull them out now and give them real guns," Gwyn instructed, voice firm.
"They're right on top of it," informed Lowery, tone almost warning.
"Call this mission off right now." demanded Owen.
"You are not in control here!" exclaimed Claire. Her body posturing had gone rigid, her hands curled into fists at her sides.
"Claire, be smart about this!" Gwyn tried, voice teetering on desperate.
"Please, be quiet!"
With a vehemently spat swear under her breath, Gwyn twisted away and sank her fingers into her hair. Of all the times someone could choose not to listen to her, this was the worst. Anxiety started to claw up her back once more, sending tremors and spasms of tension throughout her body. Upon turning back towards the screen, Gwyn leaned all her weight on the back of Lowery's chair. His head ticked to the side a little, glancing up at her over his shoulder.
"Are you okay?" he asked. Gwyn shook her head stiffly. He shifted in his seat a little, brows furrowing over his horn-rimmed glasses. "When I saw you in the cage, I… it felt like my heart was gonna explode."
"Better keep that heart in working order; 'cause when this all goes down the drain, you're gonna need it to keep you going," she deadpanned. Lowery blinked at her, as though trying to gauge whether or not she was serious. Gwyn's expression held strong and unmoved. In response, the technician's mouth popped open and he twisted his chair fully around.
"Shit… you're not joking," he said in a hushed exhale.
Gwyn's eyes darted to the shirt that Lowery wore––it bore the Jurassic Park logo, and it was faded enough that it showed its age. It was real, she knew it; Lowery had told her, excitedly, that he'd found one a worker had snagged off the island before the incident. It had been expensive, but so was any stuff that had found its way off Isla Nublar post-catastrophe. If Gwyn still had the clothes she'd worn on the island that day, she was sure that they'd sell for thousands. She pointed at the shirt, at the now iconic logo blazoned across the chest.
"That shirt'll probably be worth a lot more in the morning," she drawled darkly.
Lowery's mouth gaped, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted.
"Lowery, look forward, please," Claire snipped. "You're working."
"Yeah, right… uh, sorry," he murmured. He and Gwyn shared one last look before he twirled the chair back around and scooted closer to his desk. She watched him tug at the collar of his shirt anxiously, like it was closing in around his throat.
Up on the screens, Gwyn saw point-of-view footage of ACU stalking through the jungle. They'd come to a stop and one man––Hamada, if the screen caption was correct––had bent over to pick something up. It was a chunk of rough skin, white-grey in color. Upon turning it over, there was a chunk of meaty flesh, inside of which was a large, flashing piece of plastic. It was Ingrid's tracker.
"Blood's not clotted yet. It's close," Hamada radioed in.
"What's that?" asked Masrani.
"That's her tracking implant, she clawed it out," Owen deduced. He rounded the first row of desks to get a better vantage point of the screens. He stopped dead-center in order to get a full view of what was unfolding.
"How would it know to do that?" Claire asked, voice incredulous at the notion.
"She remembered where they put it in."
On the video feed, Gwyn noticed something. A drop of red had appeared on Hamada's wrist, just beside his watch. It rolled along the inside of his wrist; a second drop splattered beside the first and rolled towards the outside of his wrist. It was blood. Dark and fresh. Every muscle in Gwyn's body tensed, and she started to shake her head. But before she could demand that the men and women of ACU be brought back in immediately, the footage on screen revealed something even more frightening. Someone watching Hamada also caught view of the trees shifting… and then fading away to bone white skin.
"It can camouflage!" cried Hamada in both panic and warning.
Everyone in the control room watched, helplessly, as camera footage broadcast what looked like footage of a horror movie.
Hamada was snatched up by a massive clawed hand and squeezed. He cried out as non-lethal projectiles were shot; Ingrid growled and threw him to the ground, where he splashed into a slow bubbling stream. But with one step forward, the Indominus crushed him underfoot. His vital signs flatlined in red up on screen. The members of the ACU rushed Ingrid, shocking her and shooting at her from close range. They were batted aside by hand and tail, sent scattering into the brush or into tree trunks. Another set of vital signs went red.
Gwyn leaned forward and grasped the back of Lowery's chair again, her knees wobbly and ankles jelly-like. Her eyes were blown wide, watching the point-of-view footage no matter how badly she wanted to look away. She watched as Ingrid's teeth snapped into a member of the ACU. Their legs immediately went limp, and shook around like a ragdoll as the dinosaur shook them around. Even in the footage, which was a little hazy, it was easy to see the amount of blood that spilled from Ingrid's mouth. One-by-one, they watched as multiple of the vital signs flatlined and went red. They watched as member after member was knocked down or killed. But just as quickly as the vicious chaos started, it ended.
Headquarters was dead silent, save for the deafening beeeep of a flatline. It rang in Gwyn's ears louder than it actually was; it made her head swim.
"Evacuate the island," Owen nearly wheezed, turning back to face everyone else.
There was silence for a moment, a considering beat.
"We'd never reopen," croaked Claire.
Gwyn's head had never snapped around so quickly before. She gaped at Claire, who was glassy eyed with her mouth hung gently open. She looked scared. Scared of ever prospect. Scared of what just happened, what could happen next, of the fact that they'd close down.
"A-and you think you'll stay open after this?" Gwyn gestured to the numerous red lines, which were displayed next to the names and pictures of the people they belonged to. They were a grim reminder of the gravity of the situation. "Ingrid is displaying traits that she never has before; she's learning fast and you don't want that."
"You made a genetic hybrid, raised it in captivity. She is seeing all of this for the first time. She does not even know what she is. She will kill everything that moves," Owen warned lowly, voice rasping with concern.
"Do you think the animal is contemplating its own existence?" Masrani asked.
"She is learning where she fits in the food chain and I'm not sure you want her to figure that out."
"At this point she's killed six people, and she's killed them today. If you don't remove her from the equation, you're gonna have a higher body count," Gwyn warned in a warbling voice. Tears pressed insistently at the back of her eyes. Her nose stung. The shock had worn off and it was taking everything she had in her not to break down on the spot.
"Gwyn's right; she'll keep on hunting till you stop her. Listen, Asset Containment can use live ammunition in an emergency situation. You have an M134 in your armory––put it on a chopper and smoke this thing!"
"We have families here, I'm not gonna turn this place into some kind of a war zone," Claire spat. Her nose had crinkled at the corners and her tone was firm. She was a woman protective of her work, and the park, as a whole, was her work.
"You already have," Owen bit back flatly. His expression left no room for argument. The island was now, in fact, a war zone. A war of dinosaur versus man, and if they didn't take the leap and stop the battle before it truly began, it was going to be a disaster. But Claire just tensed her jaw and lifted her chin in a manner of superiority. It was the gesture of someone who knew they were wrong, but couldn't swallow it.
"Mr. Grady, if you're not gonna help, there's no reason for you to be in here."
"We're trying to help, Claire," Gwyn stressed. Her voice sounded thick and heavy. "If we can get everyone off the island now there will be fewer casualties, and––"
"The same goes for you, Dr. Grant," Claire cut off. She clasped her hands in front of her abdomen and cleared her throat. "I'm sorry."
In a frustrated swipe of his arm, Owen knocked over the row of plastic dinosaurs sat atop Lowery's workstation. The technician let out a displeased exhale and gestured vaguely with his hands. Gwyn stared at Claire incredulously for a moment. Her heart, which had already dropped into the pit of her stomach, fell into her feet. As Owen made his way towards the elevator, pausing by Masrani, Gwyn started to shake her head. Incredulity melted into frustration, which pinched her expression unpleasantly.
Gwyn started to march towards the exit, fists swinging at her sides. Just as she passed Owen by, he fell in step with her, the two marching towards the elevator almost perfectly in step. Once inside, Owen jabbed a thumb into the right button, and the doors started to close. Gwyn felt her legs start to quake quite suddenly. She gripped the handrails that encircled the enclosed space and tensed the muscles in her arms; her weight sagged to accommodate the possibility of her legs giving out. They rose floor by floor, and with each passing moment, Gwyn felt a little weaker. The events of the day caught up with her suddenly and rapidly. Images of blood stained teeth and claws haunted her at every blink. The mortal screams of men and women meeting their fate rang deep in her ears. The elevator suddenly felt ten degrees hotter and Gwyn's stomach turned. Just as the heat washed over her, it was followed by a wave of cold. Bile, acrid and insistent, began to rise towards her throat.
"Gwyn?" asked Owen, his voice low and concerned. She felt his hand meet her shoulder in a comforting grasp. "Are you alright?"
Gwyn shook her head frantically, keeping her gaze dutifully fixed on the button panel. She didn't dare open her mouth for fear she would vomit; because she knew that the second her lips parted, she would. The minute the elevator doors slipped open, she bolted. It took her barely any time at all to launch herself into the nearest bathroom, hand slamming the door open. Within moments she was kneeling in one of the cubicles, bent over the toilet while she emptied the contents of her stomach. Her hands were shoved into her hair to hold it out of her face. Amidst her retching, Gwyn was able to register someone crouched behind her. Owen had followed her into the bathroom, she realized. There was no time to be embarrassed he was seeing her in such a state; the only thing that really mattered in that moment was ensuring that the terrible nauseous feeling that had plagued her all day stopped. Her face felt hot and the tiling beneath her knees was cold. Owen had started to rub circles in the middle of her back, saying nothing while she had her moment.
That was all it was, too. A moment. After two retches, her stomach started to settle. Nevertheless, Gwyn remained bent over the bowl, head hung. She braced one elbow atop the toilet seat and clasped her forehead with her hand; her eyes remained shut, and she blindly sought out the toilet paper. After she unsuccessfully groped the plastic wall, Owen uttered a gentle 'here' and passed her a fistfull. Gwyn wiped at her mouth with the balled up toilet paper and then tossed it into the water and vomit filled bowl. She sat back on her heels and flushed the toilet, eyes scrunched shut. Tears rolled down her flushed face, and she slouched sideways into the cubicle wall.
"God…" she muttered. Gwyn shifted around so her back was pressed against the hard plastic, her legs kicked out so they stretched into the next stall. Her eyes opened and stared blankly ahead of her. "This can't be happening."
"It is," Owen said, tone low and unhappy. He clasped her cheek in the palm of his hand and turned her head so she had to look at him. The look on his face was frighteningly stern––brows creased, lips pursed, jaw muscles clenched. "But we're gonna make it out of this, okay? We're gonna get people out of this."
Gwyn nodded, her cheek moving against his palm. She smoothed her hands down her thighs and let out a steadying breath. Her body was still in the aftershocks of her vomiting spell, still adjusting to the idea that they were, potentially, about to be in the throngs of another disaster. But she knew that lingering in that shock and anxiety would do her no good. It had waned, briefly, which had led to her stormy entrance into the control room. It was going to take a lot out of her, but she couldn't focus on how distraught she felt, how dumb she felt. Gwyn couldn't let the island get the best of her. Because if it did, she wouldn't be getting out alive.
Afterword: The control room sequence was actually more difficult to write than I anticipated, so I did my best! But I enjoyed writing it, and I'm excited to keep delving further into the movie now that things have really kicked off.
Review Replies!
ZabuzasGirl: As much as offing Claire is an option, there's still a lot of this story, as well as the continuation of it, that will require her to be there. For example, the events of Fallen Kingdom wouldn't come about as an option to Owen (or Gwyn) if Claire wasn't present. Because as much as Gwyn loves dinos… I don't think she'd end up working for a Save the Dinosaurs collective.
glagla60800: The Indominus is really out now! And Gwyn's sanity is teetering at best at this point. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
MsRosePetal: There we went; and we're gonna keep on going! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
AugustRrush:Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as the last one!
NicoleR85: We'll get more into the Indominus' characteristics as the movie events progress, we just had to get her out in the world, first. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
SabakuNoGaara426: It's began, and now it'll keep on rolling. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
WaywardandWanderlust: I love getting the chance to flesh out characters; that could just be the actor in me, but some good character development is just… beautiful. An 'all survivors' conference is something I would love to see in the movies, but, alas… I'll just have to write it instead! I'm glad that you've been enjoying the story :) and thank you for the school-related well wishes! I'm very excited to graduate, I've been in college five years now because I transferred schools so the credits didn't carry––I'm ready to be out of school. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
god of all: Thank you! I had a good chunk of this written so it was easy to get it up pretty soon; we'll see how much time school allows me to have. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
AmericanNidiot: Shit it the fan last chapter; and now it's spraying everywhere like a Jackson Pollock painting. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Momochan77: The shit is really spraying everywhere, and so much of it has hit poor Gwyn. And the dinosaurs really have taken a liking to Gwyn now that she's an adult, whether she likes it or not. We'll have to see if that'll be detrimental or not. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
WriterGirl1198: Masrani's personality is an interesting one. 'Cause while he is the gentle benefactor, he still has to protect his interests. And I saw no reason to extract the whole 'Owen and Claire used to date' thing. It adds character depth, and it gives a reason as to why they never really interact with one another. And I feel like Owen has probably been in relationships or situations where, if something like that happened, it would explode; and I think Gwyn is pretty chill about relationship stuff. It was like I wrote in the last chapter: she didn't ask about previous relationships, and he wasn't hiding anything. I thought it was important to bring up Gwyn's connection to Ingrid before shit really kicked off, because it's important. Not only does it tie Gwyn into the film events, it's important for some stuff later on… I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! I'm so glad that you've been enjoying this story, and I cannot thank you enough for being so lovely!
Guest: I love getting to write some good Owyn moments, so I'm glad you enjoy reading them! And school's gonna be a fun ride for me this year, so we'll see how smoothly updates go (and don't worry about the review cut off, we love a pet that decides when you post things :) ) Thanks again; I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
Laurel: I always wondered what it would be interesting if the Indominus had bonded with at least one person… so I decided to explore that a bit! The madness ball is starting to roll, and it's only getting faster! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Vale Yagami Cullen: Hello! I'm very glad that you found this story and have been enjoying reading it. I love taking the time to really flesh out the characters and the world before I get too deep into the action, and I'm glad that you've enjoyed that aspect of the story! Also, I'm probably just as excited about writing the next catastrophe, 'cause it's only gonna tie everything together. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again! (Also, your review was perfectly lovely! :) )
supboyyyyy93: I'm finally getting to write and post stuff I've had sitting in my ideas doc for literal years, so I'm genuinely excited to be in the movie events. So I'm excited that you're excited! And I've also been loving that I'm getting to write more romance-y moments between Owen and Gwyn; and it's a huge compliment to have you say that I can write romance well! 'Cause it's such a tricky genre. Because there has to be tension (good or bad) and there has to be pay-off, and it's a fine balance of figuring out when all that has to happen. So, thank you, again, and I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!
CJ/OddBall: We'll have to wait and see if Ingrid is mad with Gwyn or not… 'cause even though she was in her sights once again, they haven't had a moment to themselves, yet. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
Ange JJK: The Masrani chat was necessary, I think. Gwyn has an interesting set of allies, and Masrani is amongst them. I think that Owen, Gwyn, and Claire all going out to adventure together, soon, is gonna be one hell of a time. The bickering is going to be… legendary. Simply legendary. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
AsAmyAsAlways: Aww, thank you so much! It's literally the biggest compliment you can give to say that you watched the film and expected Gwyn to pop up! And just equally as complementary to hear that this story has inspired you to keep on writing your own! I can recall a couple of stories on here, for me, that have inspired me to write/keep on writing. And, I have to say, Owen is a tricky man to keep in character. Because for JW, he was very much the action man, and in FK, we started to see more development––how much he really cared for the girls, his sense of humor, his fear, how he's like outside of the island… so piecing that stuff together to create a fully fledged character design has been interesting. 'Cause I sometimes worry that I'm characterizing him a little too close to Star Lord/Peter Quill. And, god, if I got hired to write for the next movie I would lose my goddamn mind xD I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
hit-or-miss-alyssa: I've greatly enjoyed writing Gwyn because she's very much unlike any character I've ever written. Gwyn is very deadpan and ambitious, whilst simultaneously being very empathetic; but her tougher side tends to shine more publically. And she has very defined opinions, which makes writing character relationship dynamics very interesting. And playing her characteristics off Owen has been a joy, and letting them grow together has been amazingly fun. And we'll get some more Gwyn and Echo stuff a little later on, I promise! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
And thank you to those that have added this to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!
That's that for now! Next chapter we'll get some Gwyn who's a little more settled into the situation… as much as she can be. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter––thanks again, everyone!
~Mary
