Chapter Three
The boat had jarred to a stop at port, the employee's scurrying about like mice in a maze seeing to different duties and stations, stopping every few moments to answer the questions of nagging guests and screaming children. The entire platform was chaotic just off the boat, as lines were tossed and tied to secure the yacht, receiving teams readied chartered vehicles, and the cargo was set to be unloaded. The chatter was overwhelming for Marianne as she molded into the queue of people descending the gangplank, her eyes scanning the horizons, shielded by her Ray Ban aviator's after having been traded in place of her prescriptions.
It was hot. Scorching. The shufflings and shovings of people squeezing against her, all anxiety, didn't make it any better. Her skin was hot and she could feel a sunburn setting in, but she wasn't hindered. She scanned the docks, looking around at her surroundings, finding shimmering water to the west and a hill with built-in stairs to her right, which could only indicate the park was just a few yards off. Marianne got her answer when the sunlight glinted off a teepee shaped building in the distance, reeking of money and modernist architecture, and when she beheld it she knew just how much money she had gotten into. Leave it to Hammond in his dying breathe to make sure no expanses were spared.
A woman behind her groaned irritably and shoved Marianne forward, Marianne not bothering to cast a look behind her. She just followed the people down the plank, her heart hammering within her chest with excitement and curiosity. She began to make note of her surroundings, making sure to take in details in case she would need them. She was welcomed by a sailor-dressed girl who smiled limply, her hair falling out of an elaborate braid from the humidity and, probably stress.
She stepped off the plank and was on the docks now, the wooden planks reeking with salt and quavering with use. Marianne looked around the people swarming about her like bees when her eyes settled on the cargo hatch beginning to lower, a team of employees receiving it to prepare for unloading. She shoved passed people with mumbled apologies until she'd cleared the throng and could somewhat breathe, approaching a younger boy with a checklist. Reaching out to tap his shoulder, he swung about abruptly.
"Something the matter, miss?" His Indian accent startled her, and she blinked behind her sunglasses, but shook her head. Marianne peered into the cargo hold, to find her Camaro fit and ready for unloading, reverse lights lit extravagantly white. It slowly rolled backwards towards the ramp and relief invaded her tightly wound chest. "Miss?" he asked again.
"Yes, everything's great," she reached into her bag, setting her carry-on beside her and fished out her paperwork. "Marianne Randal, and that's my car." She nodded to the Tardis blue metal-flaked car, complete with ivory pin striping starting from the front of the car and running across the sides. Her heart calmed at the sight of it, and the boys' brows rose as he checked the list.
The boy looked at the papers, nodded, and waved the car back, "Excellent. We'll have her unloaded in one moment, miss. I'm afraid we'll have to have the vehicle inspected and documented at the garage before we'll allow you to take it." Marianne's brow wrinkled at this, and she looked back from the car to the boy again.
"What? I was told I-"
"Park proceedings, Miss Randal," he grinned at her as her car hit the docks, the metal-flake glinting brightly in the sunlight. She stared at it, then the man driving it, watching his as if he were going to wreck the car instead of drive it. Much to her relief he inched the car towards the throng of people, falling in line with ATV's and Polaris side-by-sides trying to edge their way towards the roads. "All will be well, I assure you, Miss. We'll take right good care of your car."
Her mouth parched, and she nodded slowly, defeated.
He turned from her, tipped his head in a goodbye, and set to unloading the rest of the cargo. She fell into step beside the inching Camaro, people stopping only briefly to stare at it and give her confused looks. She rapped on the glass lightly with her knuckles and wiggled her fingers in a hello wave to the man, who nodded and looked as if he were a kid in a candy store.
Oh, God, please. Watch over my car, she prayed, looking towards the sky.
More shoving and chaos as the Camaro veered off to follow the rest of the vehicles up a dirt road. It vanished over the hill which led to the park, and she could no longer see it driving away. Panic wrenched through her stomach and into her chest, sweat trickling down her shoulder blades. Swearing to exercise more than she did, she fell into step behind a couple pushing a stroller and holding tightly to a little boy's hand before the piercing shriek erupted from behind her.
"Uncle Owen! Uncle Owen!"
She turned to see the fleeting young girl with black hair and a pink sundress fly by her, looking oddly familiar. The crowds parted to let the girl pass, and Marianne followed her with her eyes, only to find the man who was standing a head-taller than most guests dip to a knee and receive the girl with open arms. He was all smiles, wrapping bulging arms around her tiny frame and picking her up as if she were nothing.
The sight stopped Marianne dead in her tracks. And if it didn't, he certainly did.
At least six feet tall, he had broad shoulders and as she'd already noted, rippling arms. A thick chest accentuated his shoulders, followed by a strong set of legs thick with what she'd assume were ripping thighs and calves. Wavy, light brown hair was cut as if it were an outgrown military shave, and he had stubble along his jaw which had a nicely grown mustache. Marianne couldn't tell if his eyes were navy blue or dark brown, but it didn't matter, because she was more fascinated with his natural tan than she would've preferred. Outfitted in jeans, belt, a faded cream-colored cotton shirt and a safari vest, he was the epitome of testosterone and Rambo all rolled into one delicious package that sent a wave of butterflies into her stomach.
No. She wasn't looking for anyone.
Not that it mattered.
She recognized the little girl as Sophie, from B-Deck. Marianne's lips curved into a lop-sided smile. So, she did have an adult here after all. Feeling somewhat relieved for the young lady, Marianne smiled at their reunion, watched as the man obviously named Owen hauled the girl's luggage over his shoulder without struggle, and then turned into the now thinning stream of people headed for the stairs.
Marianne stopped at the top of the steps, frozen by the sight. A court-yard style street of cobblestone met her gaze, lined with shops and eateries of all types, swarmed with tourism and complete with jungle-looking architectural theme. A fountain with seating around it was bubbling in the center of it all, complete with exotic and colorful flowers, a roaring Tyrannosaur figurine amidst the streaming water. It was pristine and kept, this street, and was overseen by the teepee-like building raised slightly raised with three flights of concrete steps leading up to it.
A young boy told her to move it and she stepped forward, watching as people filed past her like cattle, wondering if it was like this every day or if it was just the heat. She checked the paperwork, scanned the letter, and found she was supposed to meet someone at the Samsung Innovation Center. She glanced up at the teepee building and in the distance she made out the name:
Samsung Innovation Center.
Nodding once to confirm the resemblance, she stalked off towards the building, carry-on luggage at hand. Weaving in and out of tourist for a good ten minutes, she found herself at the heavy, beautifully crafted doors and pushed them open, only to be met with a buzzing, chaotic hive of running children, clambering of excitement, and chattering people. Swallowing, she grabbed her bag and walked inside, only to be almost smashed by two jetting children.
Complete with cathedral ceilings, the center was an amazing feat of technology, modeling, and structuralism. Marianne could hardly believe the detail of the building, complete with activity stations and information plaques. A DNA diagram was lit on an astoundingly high-tech computer screen, as well as a vivid retelling of the supposed Big Bang in the next corner. As she entered in, a staged paleontological dig allowed children to mingle with the art of tool, bone, and dust, and across the way children explored the science behind DNA and cell splicing. All of this sent Marianne's senses into a swirling sensation, until there was a light ping and then a swell of orchestra music. Children hurriedly gathered to center of the room, where a circle was cleared on the floor and a flickering of light began to form.
Marianne joined them, curiosity spiked. Dropping her bag, she watched as the light fell into place as a holographic dinosaur, one so large as to consume the presence of attention and very air out of the room. Marianne's heart swelled and her breathe hitched in her throat, causing her to gasp and cover her mouth. The enormous form of an Apatosaurus in holographic detail loomed before, moving slowly and looking around as if it were indeed an alive, lumbering giant. She swallowed thickly, the children cheering, her reaching out a steady hand to run her fingers through the streams of light-
"Miss Randal,"
Surprised, she gasped and whirled to her left, off-guarding a polite, petite looking strawberry blonde woman, who looked just as sheepish as Marianne felt in that moment. Complete in a floral printed sundress with black leggings and a cobalt blue cardigan, she pressed a Samsung tablet to her chest and tipped her head to the side as if trying to figure Marianne's presence out. Her graceful but curled hair fell just below her shoulders, and she had copper colored eyes. Marianne gathered herself and nodded, looking back to the hologram and then the woman.
"Yes, that's me. Marianne."
The woman smiled softy, extended a hand, and nodded once. "Vivian. Zara, Miss Dearing's assistant, was supposed to meet you, but unfortunately she's been...occupied," Marianne shook her hand before Vivian gestured with her head to walk, "Miss Dearing has arranged for-"
Marianne grabbed her bag, strode to keep pace, and then interjected, "Before anything else happens, I would like to get my car-"
Vivian smiled at her, heading for a flight of airy steps, "-we're getting your car registered and inspected as we speak. Claire would like to meet you first and get you on schedule with your interview."
Interview? Hadn't she already gotten the job? Confusion fuddled her mind, but kept her busy as they climbed the steps. Vivian veered left, towards a clerk's desk, patted the smooth surface and was instantly awarded a small box, with the Jurassic World logo printed on the front. She handed it to Marianne, who had by now opted to sling her carry-on's strap over her shoulder. Slightly out of breath, Marianne looked at the box and then Vivian.
"This has your basics," Marianne accepted the box, getting the idea Vivian wasn't too keen on holding it much longer-or her present job, "ID badge, keys, map of the resort, a pager and a copy of the schedule and directory," she'd already pressed the ascending arrow to the elevator before Marianne could even take her eyes off the insides of the box. "The rest is inside your bungalow."
"Bungalow?" Marianne questioned, stepping towards the elevator, "I thought it was an apartment?"
Vivian shook her head, "Maybe, but rooming assignments just turned over last Tuesday. Anyone working north of the resort gets private bunaglow's." She shrugged. "It's been a mess trying to move everyone around."
Marianne shrugged, situating the box in her purse, "I could imagine. A thousand employee's is a lot of boxes." Sensing Vivian's warming up, she smiled at the woman. Vivian smiled back as the elevator leveled off and the doors opened.
Vivian promptly exited, Marianne quickly following. She stopped abruptly upon sight of the room, where a rough looking African American man in a polished suit skewered her with his eyes, Vivian hushedly explaining she was with her. Marianne's gaze was forever on the room before her.
A large set-up of a solitary screen made up the wall in front, one big mess of the park's system up for everyone to see. Security camera's, paddock's footage, a holographic map of the park, shop footages, attraction reports, a live body count-everything, and more Marianne imagined, was up there. Three rows of tech stations, two bodies to each touch computer, were symmetrically lined like a school room, all facing the giant screen. Multiple screen behind them and a panel of switches and buttons flickered brightly. The room was surprisingly quiet, only the occasional keyboard clicking and technician chatter interrupted the whirs and dings of the computer systems.
Marianne took it all in, before spotted Vivian conversing with a woman, outfitted in a purely ivory outfit, quietly. The woman, bright and alarming red hair with perfectly trim cheekbones and accentuated makeup glanced at her, scanned her head to toe, and nodded, sipping a drink from a ceramic mug. Vivian returned to a seat next to a black haired, dark skinned Indian gentleman, wearing a tacky button down and a familiar logoed t-shirt.
The red-head approached her, nude heels clicking on the waxed floors. Suddenly feeling as if she were on display under a microscope, Marianne flushed red and felt her stomach hit her ankles. She swallowed thickly, the woman stopping before her and giving her a small smile.
"You must be Marianne Randal," she extended a hand, "I'm Claire Dearing, Operations Manager here. Good to meet you."
Marianne gave what she assumed to be an awkward half smile before accepting Claire's hand and shaking it. Her hands were smooth and soft compared to Marianne's calloused ones, but she didn't seem to notice, "Good to put a name with a face, Miss Dearing."
Claire guffawed lightly, waving her off, "Please, call me Claire." She glanced over her shoulder and pointed at the Indian man, "Lowery, check and see if they're all ready at Paddock Six for Marianne here. I'll be taking her down myself," she smiled at Marianne now, waving at her to head back towards the elevator, "And let them know to be ready and halfway presentable."
The man called Lowery nodded and gave her a thumbs up, "You got it, boss." He raised his chin to Marianne and then his brows, "Welcome aboard, newbie. Good luck out there."
"You're going to need it," Claire confirmed seriously, but with a smile, as she stepped into the elevator car. Marianne hustled and joined her, only to push aside a stray curl from her now limp bun. She all confusion, but went with it, her carry-on suddenly heavy on her shoulder. Sweat cascaded down her temple and settled into her hair, her sunglasses rubbing the back of her ear raw.
"I am, huh?" Marianne asked, puffing out a breathe. Claire gave her a side look, pressed the down button, and gave her a smile.
"Yep. If there's one thing for certain about Owen Grady, is that he isn't the most...civil person on the planet. You'll find that out in short order. Hopefully you know your stuff, Miss Randal, because Owen will hold you to it. And if he won't, his girls will."
Marianne gave her a look. Owen? That couldn't possibly be the guy from the docks? No, no, surely not. She couldn't be that lucky. Not with her running history with men. "His girls?" She dared.
Claire gave her a half smile as the car jerked to a stop on the ground floor. "Welcome to Jurassic World, Miss Randal. This way. It's time for your interview."