Chapter Two

The smell of salt swirled around Gray Mitchell's senses, followed by a mist of ocean water roaring up at him from the hull of the Jurassic World ferry. He gripped the railing with white-knuckles, anticipating every moment of every day of this vacation. His stomach brewed with excitement, almost as if it were a bubbling pot of water ready to boil over. He looked up to his bigger brother, Zach, and was about to point out yet another fact he'd learned about Jurassic World (he'd only visited the website about a thousand times the night before their departure) when he realized he was busy browsing through a music playlist on his phone.

He deflated, shrugging his shoulders. Leaning farther over the rail, he watched the yacht splice through the waters, the sun making the waves look like turquoise diamonds, making his back hot. Hit backpack was heavy, causing his back to sweat in the tropical climate, but he didn't rightly care. He could care less, actually. He was inbound for Jurassic World-nothing would stop him at this point. Nothing could dampen this vacation.

The passengers aboard the yacht, all anticipating land, scanned the horizon and watched the island come closer and closer into view. Gray's heart hammered against his ribs-it was really there! Really happening! He'd been dying to visit his Aunt Claire on this island, seeing what she'd been working so hard on. Really, he'd never really met Aunt Claire before, but he was excited too-if not to meet here, to see what she did here at this place. He knew she was pretty important, because she'd just given them tickets as if they were toys.

He looked back up to Zach, still absorbed in his music, and then looked down at his shoes. He wiggled his toes in anticipation. He was actually going to see real dinosaurs on this trip. He'd heard the rumors, read all the books, watched all the Youtube interviews and newscasts, but it hadn't been the same. Hearing the testimony's of the Jurassic Park survives some twenty-two years ago was old news. Now, Jurassic World had opened just four years ago, and it was prospering, safe!

He moved away from the railing to go back inside the boat. Zach obviously noticed, because he followed at a sloth-like place behind him, eyes still glued to the phone. Gray was busy watching all the people chat and move around, drinking and eating, playing and snapping pictures or reading books-normal people activity. He seated himself at a table and ran his finger along the handle of a silver knife, glinting in the sunlight. He swallowed but realized his mouth was dry. Zach plopped into the chair next across from him and looked up at Gray.

"You ok, buddy?"

Gray nodded, "Yeah. Tired of this boat," he mumbled, "I want to see the island."

Zach rolled his eyes and guffawed annoyingly, "Don't be such a whiner. We'll get there when we get there."

"And Aunt Claire will be meeting us?" He sounded hopeful, he could tell.

Zach didn't look up from his phone, "Uh huh, sure." He began texting, now ignoring Gray altogether. Gray sank back in his chair, looked out the window the vast amount of water around the boat and sighed. They'd been traveling all yesterday and today, and he was exhausted.

The smells of the tropics had made him sick at first, and the different languages and dialects had bothered him, but he'd quickly chalked it up to necessary sacrifices in light of Jurassic World. The heated excitement flowing through his body told him it would be well worth the traveling and discomfort of being away from home.

He wondered about his parents, and why they hadn't come. He lowered his gaze to his feet when he thought about them. They'd been receiving separate packages in the mail for weeks now, big manila envelopes which were heavy with papers. Finally able to bear it no longer, he'd Googled the law-offices to find they had been divorce lawyers. Tears pulled at his eyes. His Mom and Dad were getting a divorce, which was why they hadn't come on this trip. Why hadn't they told him? His stomach sank like a stone.

Then, across the yacht, he heard a little girl screaming for land. The boat instantly bristled with excitement, and Grey shot up from his chair. Bolting towards the way he'd come, he pushed and shoved his way to the observation deck until he was at the railing. The ship had picked up speed, water lapping furiously against the hull. He scanned the horizon, sadness and gloom dissipating from his thought pattern as soon as he spotted the land-mass. He felt Zach come up behind him and stare right along with him. He closed his eyes, inhaled the smell of salt water, and grinned. Zach mumbled something about a "freakin' long way to get here", but Gray didn't bother to listen.

In the end, Jurassic World would be worth it.

Right?

. . .

Marianne smiled at the bartender, dressed impressively in an all-white outfit with a bright blue bowtie. Slicked back black hair and a bright white smile told her he got paid far more than he let on, but she dropped ten bucks at the bar for him anyway, since he'd went out of his way to flirt a little with her. Since it didn't happen often, she was flattered, hence the ten bucks.

Grabbing the Whiskey Seven from the bar, she nodded to him and slipped out of her chair. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she smoothed out the edge of her dress with a nervous hand, wondering why on earth she'd opted to wear one in the first place. She supposed in the delusion of losing five pounds she'd thought it was a good idea-until she'd seen some of the other sundresses this morning at breakfast, then she'd regretted the idea altogether. Marianne made her way from the bar, out the French windows onto the observation deck, and stood behind the swarm of children pointing and playing along the railings. She scanned the amounts of water around her and then felt her purse vibrate against her hip.

She pulled it out and found it was only an email notification. She filed it away for later, opting to check it once disembarking the vessel and at her place. She swallowed another drink of the Seven, looked around, and checked her watch. It was around two in the afternoon, well after lunch, and the cargo-master had told her to check back with him around one-thirty if she wanted to see her belongings and her car.

Downing the rest of the Whiskey, she slid the glass across the counter, where the bartender anticipated it. He placed it beside the other dirty glasses as she passed, nodded to her and she headed towards the descending stairs. Fishing around her purse for her printed off paperwork, she unfolded them and descended two more flights before reaching the cargo area of the ship. Meeting the man at the entrance, he thoroughly checked her paperwork before letting her inside.

The only car aboard the yacht, her classic '81 Camaro stuck out like a sore thumb among the other luggages-crates, bags, boxes, supplies, you name it. Packed with everything she could possibly bring with her, the only thing she could fit inside of it was her carry-on and her purse, save herself to drive it. Marianne had insisted it come with her on the journey, since she anticipated Isla Nublar to be her long-term home, unwilling to leave the muscle car behind. It had, afterall, been with her since she'd gotten her license at sixteen years old. She wasn't about to let it go just because she was moving to another country.

She leaned against it, listening to the accentuated sound of the water against the yacht's hull. She was underwater now, a thought that brought her less comfort every time she realized it. Running her hand across the smooth metal-flake paint job, she smiled at the fender of the car an then crossed her arms over her chest. Someday, her father had told her, a man was going to love her as much as he did her car-a running joke in their family. If only he could see it now with it's fresh paint and pinstripes, he would've made the joke a truity.

A thought niggled in the back of her mind, along with Alan's warning before she'd boarded the plane: "Life will find a way, Marianne. Or it will die trying." She hadn't really understood it then and she didn't get it now, but she'd nodded and told Alan otherwise, promising to let him know when she got in and safe and back to work.

Not that her work would be any different-save, perhaps, the fact she'd be working with live dinosaurs instead of dead ones. The reality had hit her like a ton of bricks on the plane: these were real, living, breathing things these dinosaurs-and she'd be studying them. Alan had warned her of the intelligence of some of the species; and if he hadn't been exaggerating (which, Alan Grant wasn't known particularly for), scared her a bit. The entire idea of the park scared her a bit, truthfully.

And if it didn't scare here, it fascinated her.

The cargomaster called across the bay and waved her toward him, shouting that she needed to get above deck to prepare her things for disembarking. She nodded, thanked him, and hurried back up the flights of stairs to her room, where her things were waiting and packed. She smoothed the edge of her green, button down dress again, and hurried down the hallway. Something rubbed against her ankle, and she stooped to fix the strap of her sandal.

As she adjusted it, a short body bumped her forehead. Marianne caught herself and looked over her shoulder to find a little girl mumbling an apology and scrambling to pick up a dayplanner sprawled with sticky-notes and pictures and ultimately a ticket. She couldn't have been more than seven or eight years old, with icy blue eyes, sunglasses pushed up on her head and backpack on her back. Marianne looked down the hallway for any sight of her parents, but found no one save her, the little girl, and staff member midway down the hall. The little checked her hand, where a scrawled number was written on her palm, almost entirely smudged off.

"Are you lost?" Marianne asked softly. She positioned to her knees and the little girl looked at her, smiling softly and tucking a loose curl behind her ear. She nodded, sheepish apparently.

Marianne smiled. "It's a big boat. I got lost too. What is your room number?"

She replied, looking to her hand, "355. B-Deck." She, surprisingly, had somewhat of a raspy voice for a young girl. It was calming, though, and Marianne nodded to her and rose to her full height, readjusting her dress.

"I'm on B-Deck too," Marianne smiled at her, "But my room is 271. Can I help you find your?"

She swallowed, as if nervous, and then looked to the stairs as if she were planning a get- away. Marianne quickly dug out her papers from her purse and showed them to the girl, pointing at the upper left hand corner.

"It's ok. I work at Jurassic World," she said quietly. The girl looked up to her and smiled softly, as if relieved. Marianne put the papers away and looked down the hallway, "So. Room 355, huh? I'll bet it's that way, since my room is down there," she pointed behind her. The girl nodded.

"I remember coming from this way I think." She turned and began walking, Marianne speeding up to walk beside her. There was quietness between them for a moment as they checked room numbers before Marianne thought to introduce herself.

"My name is Marianne," she moved aside one of her stray hairs by blowing it. She adjusted her purse strap and the little girl looked down to her dayplanner again, still open in her hands. She pointed to a three digit number, 355, again as if to confirm it to herself.

"I'm Sophie. Sophie Forester." She smiled at Marianne. Her voice was louder than before, clearer, as if she'd opened up now to her. Marianne nodded once and they took a corner quickly, s her missing the number but the girl keeping her eyes on them for her.

"That's a pretty name. My brother had a cat named Sophie when I was a kid."

The girl said nothing, and then stopped. She turned to face a door, marked 355, and stepped towards it. She pointed to the number and reached into her pocket. "This is it," she said. She pulled the keycard from her pocket and scanned it. The door lock clicked, flashed green, and she turned the handle. Standing in the doorway, she turned to Marianne and closed the dayplanner.

"Well, here you are Sophie Forester." Marianne put her hands on her knees and smiled at her brightly. "Good work. You hardly needed help."

"Thank you," she said, looking over her shoulder to the room. She stepped back, but Marianne stayed stationary. The girl was playing her cards close to her chest, smart. "for helping me."

"At your service," Marianne bowed playfully and winked at her. "Have a good time, ok? If you need help, find someone in a uniform with a badge and they'll make sure your taken care of. Sound good?" She hadn't even started working here yet and already was sounding like an employee. Did she need a life or what?

"Will I see you again?"

Marianne shrugged a shoulder, "I don't know, maybe. I work with some of the animals, so I don't know how much you'll see me-"

Her eyes brightened and her mouth opened slightly, as if she were in the presence of not a human being but a goddess of some type. Marianne's brows rose behind her glasses slightly as she asked, "You work with...the dinosaurs?" She sounded awe-inspired.

Marianne nodded, "Yeah. Some of them."

"Which ones?"

"Well I-"

"Hey, dude, hurry up!"

Marianne whipped her attention to her right, where two boys came roaring around the corner, one smaller and the other a high school kid. They had wide smiles on their faces, obviously brothers, and they bounded down the hallway until they reached their room, where the older boy slid the card and they vanished inside. More voices came from around the corner, and Marianne stepped away from the door. She smiled weakly at the little girl. "You'd better get your stuff together, Sophie. Sounds like we're almost ready to unload."

The girl nodded, began closing the door, and thanked her again before closing it tightly. The lock dropped into place and Marianne stepped away from the door. She made her away around the throng of people now plaguing the hallways until she made it to her room.

Their excited chatter told her they had arrived.

. . .

Claire pressed her cell phone to her ear, then plugged her other one with a manicured finger, trying to block out the throng of people's voices at the docks of the ferries that sunny afternoon. She glanced up to the sky, spotted not a single cloud, then looked to the boats again where people continually poured from their landings. She huffed as Masrani was still blabbering on about the Verizon Wireless endorsement from earlier that morning.

"And you are certain you have closed the deal, Claire?"

She nodded as if he could see her, standing on toes hidden behind her nude Vera's to scan the crowds, "Yes. Absolutely certain. They loved the I-Rex idea and were behind it, one hundred percent." Not that you even care about the costs or money behind this place, she added to herself.

"Excellent, excellent. Where are you, Claire? I'd like to discuss the ramifications-"

She rolled her eyes, "I'm at the docks, Mr. Masrani. My nephews are arriving today and I-"

He said something, muffled, to someone on his end before coming back to her. Claire frantically watched the people, straining to find Zach and Grey, hoping to God they hadn't changed all that much in four, five-how many years had it been? Mr. Masrani came back to her, "Ah, very good. I will see you when you return from your engagement with your nephews. We'll be in touch."

"Yes we will, sir."

"Have a good time, Claire! Get some sun, enjoy the park, eat some good food! Enjoy yourself and your nephews! I will expect you later this evening then. Good day."

Before she could reply, he signed off and the phone went dead. She ended the call and held the phone in both of her hands, which held a slight tremble. She bit down on her lower, glossed lip, anxiety churning in her stomach like spoiled soup. Why had she insisted on inviting her nephews out here in the first place? Really she'd thought her sister wouldn't go for it, sending her kids across the ocean to a woman who couldn't even cook toast much less be responsible for children, but she had, and no here she sat.

"Aunt Claire?!"

She turned and saw the bobbing head of a taller, dark haired boy hurriedly shove his way through the crowds of people towards her. The throng parted to reveal a shorter boy, with lighter hair run up to her and stop before her. Claire, uneasy with the suddenly arrival, lowered to his height and smiled at him, scanning over him. She didn't recognize him since she'd seen him last. Granted, he'd been a baby, but still.

"Gray, Zach!" She put on her best excited voice as Zach joined them. She outstretched her arms and wrapped them around Gray, who hugged her back before she pulled away. She touched his cheek with a finely polished hand and then stood to smile awkwardly at Zach. "It's been so long, boys. I'm glad you made it safely." There was silence a few moments before she asked, "Did you have a good journey?"

"Long," Zach mumbled.

She smiled at him weakly, "Yeah, it can be. It'll be better on the way home, I promise." She smiled at Gray now, who was excitedly looking around. He looked about seven or eight-had it been that long? She swallowed, kicked herself for not staying in touch with her sister's family, and then moved to stand between the two of them. Opting to drape her arms over their shoulders, they began walking.

"I'm glad you're here," she partially lied to them, "and I'm very excited that you get to see what I've been working on all these years. What's it been? Four, five years?"

Zach gave her an agitated look, "Seven, actually, but close enough."

She winced, "Well, three years of development and paperwork does things to the brain," she chuckled weakly, "But, four years into operation and we're better than ever." They made for the steps, Claire cursing herself for wearing heels instead of flats.

Their silence was interrupted when Claire recognized a name floating across the docks, coming from a young girl's voice behind her, grating on her nerves, "Uncle Owen! Uncle Owen!" She whirled around, looking, before she spotted Owen Grady's form standing a head-taller than most of the guests to her eleven o'clock. He instantly sank beneath the throng of people, presumably to his knees, and then rose with a young girl in his arms.

He showered the black-haired girl in kisses, grinning uncontrollably, the girl squealing in delight and beaming. Claire frowned at this, Zach and Gray watching her suspiciously. Owen Grady? An Uncle? When had that happened? She watched them a moment, as they conversed, their voices inaudible in all the shuffling of the people and chatter of the guests. Claire swallowed thickly as Owen hauled the girl's suitcase over his shoulder, carrying her expertly in his other arm.

They were approaching her, unaware.

She whirled back around, looked to Zach and Gray, and ushered them forward. "Come on, let's get moving. Lots of ground to cover," she said hurriedly, meshing in with the throng of people walking up the steps to the courtyard of shops, restaurants, and other buildings. Her chest burned with heat at the thought of Owen standing behind her, potentially watching her. She wanting nothing to do with that lazy, uncontrollable rogue. He infuriated her.

She swerved from the crowd, making her way over to an unmanned, blue-and-silver Polaris side-by-side. Slipping into the driver's seat, she looked at the boys, put her foot on the brake, and waved them to come. They shared a look, grinned, and bolted towards the vehicle. Zach slipped in beside her and Gray took the backseat.

She started the vehicle, spotted Owen and-apparently-his niece move past them, unaware of their presence, and shifted it into forward. Giving it gas, she lurched forward and edged her way through the courtyard to the hotel just south of the control hub. She looked to Zach, and then over her shoulder slightly at Gray, both of them an inspired, amazed heap of tourist. She smiled at them and steered the side-by-side towards the hotel's front doors, pulling in behind a ferrying Mercedes-Benz van. She left the side-by-side with the valet, Zach and Grey following her into the hotel. She turned to them, outstretched her arms, and introduced them to the foyer.

"Boys," she said lightly, "Welcome to Jurassic World."