Chapter One
Six Weeks Later
Owen Grady was not a man easily persuaded.
At least, not when it came to his work.
Now tequila or brandy? That was another matter altogether. Asking the hot girl at the bar for a quick dance and drink? He could be talked out of that one. Democrat or Republican? He'd listen to anyone with a good argument and facts.
But not his work. No way.
It had been six fateful weeks since Claire had practically jumped him in his office about the news of his new secretary—field assistant, whatever. He'd been dreading the moment ever since, wondering how on earth he was ever going to survive a pencil pusher following him around and prying her nose in his business. He'd hated Claire every minute of everyday for forcing him into this, and her memos too.
Now, he cranked the ratchet around his hands listening to a few of his technicians go on and on about girls back on the ML, one night stands, beers, fries, football. Needless the say the hype about having a woman working the raptor project was something they'd never experienced before, and it had the guys in an uproar.
Owen just shook his head, squatted, and reached into the carburetor of the Triumph. He began working at a bolt, twisting and turning, ignoring the sweat trickling down his back. He looked to his right, sunlight sparkling on the water off the lake, the lapping waves gentle in the slight breeze of the steaming afternoon. He furrowed his brow, the ratchet slipping the bolt, and he readjusted.
He felt a small rock tick against his work boot, and he jolted up straight, casting a look to the man who'd tossed the rock. Frowning, he cracked his neck and stood. The man, who they called Briggs, was an Australian ex-poacher, who not only looked the part but acted like it too. He chuckled, nodded his head to Owen, and took a long draw on his chilled Bud Light.
"What do you think about the new chick comin'?"
Owen shrugged a shoulder and sauntered over, where Barry handed him a bottled Coors, "Don't really know I guess. Don't know her."
"Haven't had a girl work the raptor's before," another worker, Silas, chuckled, "Think she'll bail?"
Barry snorted, "Maybe. Some women are stronger than others,"
Owen quirked a brow at him, "Doubt it. Most chicks can't even stand the sight of small lizards, much less a man-eating one." He took a long drink, thumped the bottle on the picnic table, and headed back to the Triumph cycle.
"Hope she's hot,"
Owen shot the guy a "really?" look over his shoulder, then circled around the bike, as if examining it. He stopped back on the previous side he'd been working on, stooped back down, and reached for the carburetor again.
"And if she isn't?"
"Then I'll wait for the next boat to come in," Silas winked at him. Owen, slightly disgusted, rolled his eyes and slightly shook his head. He began removing another bolt when the guys went on about the latest Seahawks game.
Briggs was quiet suddenly and then posed the next question to Owen. "You still seeing that Claire dame down in control?" He stopped to drink, then lit a cigarette which he'd grabbed from behind his ear, "She was hot."
He straightened but didn't look over his shoulder, "Does it matter?"
"Well yeah, mate. All the girls seem to like you the best, so if you're taken that leaves room for the rest of us to give it a go."
"You guys at like she's a trophy,"
"When you're in the market, they all are," Silas snorted. This sent him and Briggs into a roaring laughter fit, and Barry just shared a look with Owen, who puffed out an exaggerated breath.
Owen then gave Briggs a smile, "Ever wonder why you're single, Briggs?"
They quieted and Briggs glared at him for a moment. Barry took a drink, set his Coors on the table, and got up. He climbed the steps to the small bungalow and began taking off his shirt. He took off his watch, slipped the phone from his pocket, and then made his way down the steps and approached the lakebed. Owen began trying to finagle the carburetor out of it's place as Briggs and Silas began talking about Australian football.
Barry dived into the lake, and Owen slipped the bolts into his pocket.
. . .
Marianne worked the rubber band around her mess of brown curls until she was satisfied with the overly messy bun no top her head. Sweat stained the back of her shirt, and her feet were sweating inside her hiking boots, which wasn't an unusual occurrence.
She stopped, listed off the bags by the door of the camper, and then counted off on her fingers the rest of her luggage to take. She made a circle where she stood, nodded once affirming her theory, and reached for her cell phone on the counter next to the small sink. She felt a warm breeze soar through the camper, and she whirled around to see the door open and Dr. Grant step inside.
He removed his hat, brushed the dust from it, and then set it on one of her bags. She smiled at him, he raised his brows at her luggage, and then headed for the fridge.
"Looks like you're ready to go," he said nonchalantly.
She nodded. "Yeah, I guess so," she puffed out a breathe, "As ready as I can be."
Alan pulled a beer can from the fridge, cracked it, and then leaned against it watching her. The fine lines around his eyes and across his forehead gave away his age, but his sparkling eyes promised youthfulness. When you worked with dinosaur bones, she supposed you never really get rid of the kid inside. She gave him a weak smile and then grabbed the water bottle by the sink and took a long drink. Run off trickled down the side of her mouth. They stared at each other for a few moments, silent, before he looked away and straightened.
She saw his concern. "I'll be ok, y'know." She approached her luggage and reached inside her messenger-style purse and checked her tickets and passports. "It's entirely safe."
"No island with 65-million year old resurrected dinosaur's is safe," she saw the memories flash through his eyes even if he'd tried to hide them. She'd read his book and heard his story multiple times, asked plenty of questions and listened to one too many drunken tales. "You know how I feel about this, Randal."
She nodded. "I do, yes," She approached him and shrugged her shoulder, leaning against the card table in the middle of the camper. "But I also know this is a once in a lifetime experience, Alan. They're promising good wage and housing and—"
"I'm not saying the job isn't good," He shot her a look, "But I'm saying it's dangerous." He crossed his arms over his chest, "It's…not the way things are supposed to be, Marianne. You even said God destroyed them because they couldn't survive with man."
She smiled at him, "So you have been listening, Dr. Grant." She shrugged a shoulder, "I'll be fine. I'm going to be working with some of the best tech and security measures in the world. I'll be careful," she winked at him, "And I'll email you too." She stood, stepped into his open arms, and hugged him tightly. Resting her head against his chest and inhaled the scent of dust, sweat, and after-shave.
"I'd hope to God. I've been working two years putting up with your crap, Marianne; you'd better email." He chuckled deeply, rubbing her back gently like a father would. "Just be smart, kiddo. Safe."
"You know it,"
She stepped back and he playfully punched her chin, "Your Dad would be so proud of you, kid. You turned into a real fine young lady. I'm proud of you."
She gave him a lopsided smile and felt heat rush up her neck. "Thanks, Alan. I appreciate everything."
He smiled at her softly, "There's always a place for you here, Randal, if you ever need it. Just look me up when you get back to the States."
"Anticipating me so soon?" She stepped towards the door, grabbed some of her luggage and slung her purse over her shoulder, "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
He approached her, grabbed the rest of her luggage, and winked. "I never said I didn't have complete confidence in you, kid."
"I'm sure Mr. Masrani appreciates your opinion," Marianne snorted, stepped out of the camper, and approached the Chevy pickup. Tossing her bags into the bed, Alan followed suit, and opened the driver's door. "Don't be so negative."
"When a massive T-Rex tries to eat you for lunch, then you can have an opinion, kiddo."
She rolled her eyes, smiled, and stepped up into the truck.
. . .
Sophie Forester stared at the white-and-yellow polka-dotted envelope sitting on top the plastic lid to her birthday cake. She looked back to the kitchen, where her mother and Aunt were quickly preparing what she was guessing was birthday candles, and then she looked to the squirming toddler in the highchair next to the table. Sophie wrinkled her nose and sighed deeply.
"M-om," Sophie called from her place at the table, "Come on! I'm ready to blow out my candles." The anticipation felt like butterflies overtaking her stomach.
"I'm coming, Sophia. Be patient," her mother called calmly from the kitchen. Sophie heard a clatter and then winced, her Aunt popping her head around the corner of the door to wink at her. Sophie beamed at her and she pointed a spoon at her.
"One more second, kiddo. We're almost there."
Sophie gave a bright, firm nod and shifted in her seat. She glanced at the cake again, noticing the painted-frosting dinosaur smiling among the white icing and dots and triangles. She was excited to see the rest of the cake, hidden beneath a dish-towel.
Dinosaurs were her favorite, much to her Mom's dismay. She loved carnivores the most, because they were the coolest and the scariest. Sophie played dinosaur's all the time, and sometimes she had them eat her Barbie's by playing time-travel and safari.
Soon enough, her mother came bursting from the kitchen with a box of matches and orange birthday candles. Her Aunt came out with a glass of water and a spoon of what she assumed was peanut butter. Her Aunt leaned against the door-frame to the kitchen, smiling at her, while her mother frantically removed the dish-towel and cake-cover. She poked the candles into the cake and her Aunt winked at her.
"Excited for your present, Soph?"
Sophie nodded. She already knew what it was, because she'd seen it on her mother's computer a few weeks ago. She didn't care, though, but would act surprised when she saw it. The excitement was tickling her entire body now, and she grinned at her Aunt, "Yeah. What did you get me?"
Her Aunt gave a playful gasp, "An Aunt never buys and tells," she chuckled as her mother struck the match and moved aside her black curls. She lit the eight candles and then turned the cake to face Sophie. Crossing her arms, her mother glanced down at her baby sister and then back to Sophie. Fishing the phone from her pocket, she poised for a picture.
Sophie stared at the cake, blankly. Instead of realistic dinosaurs, she saw happy smiling ones among dots and triangles and flowers, colored schemed in red, orange, white, and yellow. A Triceratops, T-Rex, and Apatosaurus all grinned at her, as if they'd come from a TV show instead of real books. She looked up at her Mom and gave a small smile.
"You like it, Sophie?" Her mother asked, hopeful. She didn't understand dinosaurs, or Sophie's obsession, but she had tried and Sophie knew it. She nodded, tucked a wayward curl behind her ear, and scanned the line of candles.
"Make a wish, hon," her Aunt chirped, "A really big one and see what happens."
Sophie smiled at her Aunt softly, then closed her eyes. She wished hard, wishing and wishing until they finally turned into a prayer inside her head. It rolled around her excited little brain until she popped open her eyes and blew out the candles hard. The snapping of the cameras from her Mom and Aunt buzzed, her baby sister giggled and gurgled at the sight, and Sophie pushed the cake back and looked up at her Mom, then eyed the envelope.
Her Mom noticed, "Ok, ok," she grabbed the envelope and slipped into a chair next to the high-chair. Her Aunt finished her pictures and sat across from Sophie, grabbing a knife and arranging plates for cake. "You've been such a good girl since…Daddy left," she looked away only briefly, Sophie noting her sad tone, "and helping with Zoe and all. So, me and your Aunt and uncle splurged to get you this."
Suddenly Sophie missed her Mom's brother, who had been gone for a few years for work. She then looked to her Aunt, who winked again, and nodded towards the envelope.
"Go on," she chuckled, "Open it."
Sophie beamed, snatched the envelope, and began ripping the paper. It revealed a matching card, but before she could open it, a piece of paper fell out. She was about to look down.
As if reading her mind, her Mom stopped her, "Card first," she said warningly. Sophie shrugged and she opened it, reading the message inside. It was a simple, "Happy 8Th, Sophie, we love you!" with signatures from her Mom, Aunt, and parenthesis where her Mom had written her uncle's name.
As soon as she'd glanced the card, she set it down with a firm slap and then fumbled for the paper. Unfolding the silver-ribbon trimmed glossy paper, she unfolded it and her eyes lit up. A piercing grin illuminated from her face, and all the butterflies which had been in her belly came to life and soared throughout her body. Her heart began to pound like it did when she was excited, and she felt warm all over. She began bouncing up and down.
"Oh thank you!" She exclaimed, "Thank you, thank you!" She flew from her chair, pamphlet still at hand, and wrapped her arms around her mother's neck. Her mother embraced her and chuckled, Sophie's screeches and giggles growing louder and louder. Bypassing Zoe's high-chair, she scrambled towards her Aunt and hugged her too. Her Aunt took her shoulders, playfully tweaked her nose, and planted a kiss on her cheeks.
"Happy birthday, Sophie honey."
She nodded, "I'm going, I'm going!" she jumped up and down, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She then bolted from the room towards her Mom's bedroom where the desktop computer sat. Switching on the screen, her trembling body uncontainable. She readied the screen, logged into Skype, and began calling the email addressed she had called just last night.
"Sophie," Her Mom came down the hall, Zoe gurgling in her arms, and leaned against the doorway, her Aunt beside her. Sophie looked over her shoulder as the call was still trying to connect, "What about cake-?"
The computer dinged, and Sophie whirled back around. The slightly blurry face of her uncle stared back at her as he situated the camera on his end of the call. He settled into his chair and clapped his hands together, then outstretched them as if to receive her in a hug.
"Hey, Sophie baby! How's my favorite niece?"
Sophie, beaming, bounced in her chair again and held up the pamphlet, pointing and then looking over her shoulder at her Mom, all smiles. Her Uncle smiled at her, waiting for her reply.
She shrieked in delight, "Uncle Owen, Uncle Owen! I'm coming to see you! I'm coming to Jurassic World!"