Chapter Sixteen
Dripping wet and cold beyond belief, the three of them staggered back into the Samsung building not four minutes before six o'clock. Sophie was dead on her feet, Owen having to scoop her up and carry her towards the elevators, Marianne behind and wringing her hair out on the marble floors of the massive room. They climbed the airy steps and past by the abandoned reception desk and Owen dipped on his legs to smash the up button with his shoulder.
The file from the field assessment was fresh and clean—thanks to copies Marianne had seen to at the Raptor paddock. The rain had finally subsided into a trickling drizzle, but the wind hadn't stopped. The entire park was empty, everyone hiding indoors and staying warm, besides the employees. The elevator levelled off, and they stepped inside.
Marianne and Owen hadn't spoken two important words to each other since their incident, instead working beside one another and replying in short, work-related sentences. Sophie, now asleep in Owen's arms, was still in her oversized raincoat. Marianne had Owen's rifle draped over her shoulders. Her eyes shifted uncomfortably between her feet when the car dinged and the doors parted, them stepping through.
She'd been to the labs a few times since her arrival—the sterile, spacious and modern looking medical facility more of a movie-set than an actual workstation. The technicians were all quietly working, in sterile suits and business attire, carefully and gracious performing the tasks of the minds of Jurassic World. Marianne felt like a drowned rat out of place in a museum as they approached the front desk of the lab area, Owen checking them in and stating their arrival to see Claire and Dr. Wu.
The man nodded, waived them in, and someone greeted them—a young Asian girl in a dress and labcoat, glasses perched on top of her head. She was shorter than Marianne, but smiled brightly at them despite their condition. Her ID read Lillian Wu—and Marianne's brow wrinkled. The girl extended her hand. "Hello," she stated cheerily, "I don't think we've met yet. I'm Lillian Wu." She nodded to Owen, "Nice to see you again, Owen."
"Lil," he dipped his head to her, Sophie still in his arms. Lillian chuckled and looked at the young girl, and then turned to Marianne. She gestured to the file.
"I would guess that's for my father," she grinned, "the field assessment on the Gallimimus?"
Marianne, mouth slightly parted, nodded. "Yeah," she handed the file to Lillian, who opened it to scan it quickly before closing it and sticking it under her arm. "You're Henry Wu's daughter?"
She nodded, a light blush brushing her cheeks to life. She looked like a porcelain doll, complete with short and stylish hair curled with a curling iron and compete with a bow pinning up bangs to the right of her face. "Yes, that's right. You know my father?"
Marianne shook her soggy curls, "Not formally. I've heard of him, from my mentor—Alan Grant."
The woman bristled. She gasped, nodding slowly, her eyes looking away from Marianne suddenly. Something told her this young woman knew something she didn't, and that it applied to Wu's sudden disappearance after the Jurassic Park incident. Marianne had been less than pleased when she'd heard Wu was behind this place as well, reasoning he was a coward and a greedy man focused only on his own success and not learning from his mistakes. She'd reasoned right, after all she supposed, given the look on Lillian's face.
"Yes, Dr. Grant," Lillian turned and gestured them come with a gracious wave of her hand. They wove in-between lab workers and technitians, Owen taking up the rear with Sophie. Marianne could've sworn she felt his gaze on her, but tried to ignore him. She would have to deal with him later she guessed, much to her dismay. "My father has spoken of him. A good man, Dr. Grant."
Marianne nodded as if Lillian could see her, "He is."
They stopped at a spacious office, encased in glass. Marianne spotted Wu and Claire talking at his desk, Claire seated primly with a tablet and a cell at hand, Wu behind his desk playing with some type of brain teaser from his desktop. They were chatting formally, and Marianne looked up to Owen—he didn't appear to be studying Claire, but she didn't really care either way. "My father has wanted to meet you, Miss Randal," Lillian interjected quickly. She pushed open the door and stepped inside, holding it for the soggy field workers. She grinned at them lightly and turned to her father, walking towards the desk, her deep black hair bouncing around her face. "Father," she interjected. Wu instantly stood, greeted his daughter, and Claire turned in her chair. A look of brief disgust flashed her face before fading way into a cold glare. "Owen Grady and Marianne Randal to see you," Lillian waved them forward, "They have the completed assessment on the Gallimimus." She handed him the file.
He smiled at them, nodding and waving them forward. "Thank you, Lillian," he kissed her head, "You may go." She smiled, slipped past them, and was gone out the door back to the lab.
Marianne and Owen tenderly approached, as if they'd entered some forbidden fruit, some classified and restricted place. Marianne didn't at all like the tone and vibe she was getting here—not at all. It reeked of chaos and controlled science—controlled expectations and a fake sense of security. She swallowed and accepted Wu's hand when he extended it to her. "Miss Randal," dipped his head at her, "I've heard the rumours that you'd joined us here, but I couldn't believe them." He gestured to the extra chair and set the file on his desk, "Please, sit." Marianne nodded, smiled softly, and seated herself slowly next to Claire, who looked as if she'd climbed out of a washing machine that morning. Her clothing squished as she sat.
"Mr. Grady," Wu nodded to a loveseat in the corner next to a library of books, sitting under the picture widow streaked with rain. The whipping trees bent slightly outside, but inaudible and only a visual warning, "You can rest her there if you like." Owen nodded, crossed the room and placed Sophie down carefully. Marianne watched him caress her cheek briefly before placing a tender kiss on her nose. He came back to them, stood between her and Claire's chair, and crossed his arms; legs spread a shoulders-width apart.
Before anyone could say anything else, Marianne interjected, her face crinkled in confusion, "I'm sorry, Dr. Wu, but, I'm a little confused," she shook her head slightly, "have we met before?" She knew they hadn't, but she wanted an explanation as to how this man knew her and what business he had being here. She doubted she'd get the fully history, but something was better than nothing. Alan would flip if he heard.
Wu's laughter was a bit offensive, making her feel like an idiot in a room of genius. She swallowed thickly and he began, "I don't believe so, Miss Randal."
"Marianne," she interjected, brow still wrinkled. She crossed a wet and mud-streaked leg over her knee. Ironically, mud dropped from her boot and onto the floor. Claire looked at it as if it were a rat. Marianne ignored the woman's stare.
"Marianne," Wu dipped his head to her, "I believe we have not met before, though it seems you know who I am," his voice was light and cheery, as if he were working at Disneyland instead of Jurassic World. "Which isn't surprising since you have worked so closely with Dr. Grant."
Her brow dipped further into confusion, "Dr. Grant has spoken highly of you," it was only a partial truth—as Alan had said the man was a remarkable genius, but naive and money-centric. She swallowed her words and then added, "So has Dr. Malcolm." She'd met him on only one occasion, and that had been enough.
"Well, I appreciate you putting it so delicately." He seated himself and steeped his fingers together, then pointed them at her, "I'm sure their opinions don't quite match your platitudes."
So he was smarter than appeared. She shrugged her shoulders, "I'm sure they don't. But that doesn't really answer my question, Dr. Wu." Claire shot her a glare, as if she had just ruffled the feathers of a very important peacock of the company. She didn't really care.
He laughed, "You were right, Claire. She is very high-spirited."
Marianne and Owen both whipped a look at Claire, who looked startled. She blushed madly, then looked down at her tablet, Marianne's face folding into a look of confusion, hurt, and rage. Owen, ever the steady rock between them, said nothing. She could feel the humour emanating from him already. She shot back to him, "I'm glad it has been dually noted." Her tone was biting and defensive. It didn't go unnoticed.
He put up his hands, "Don't be offended, Miss Randal," he pushed his chair back slowly, "I didn't mean to offend you. To answer your question, I know you from mention by the late John Hammond—of whom I am sure you are familiar."
Yes. She was. She had met Hammond briefly before his death, still a college student and working with Alan. He'd called Alan to have lunch and discuss his research, as he had still been a huge contributor for funding. He had apologized for his deeds to make atonement with the palaeontologist. Alan had been gracious enough to accept the man's apology, and Marianne had been with him. She'd conversed with Hammond in detail about Jurassic Park, and Alan had spoken nothing of her but praises and promises of a bright future. Hammond had been delighted with her, Alan had said. She squared her shoulders slightly. "Yes. I knew John before he passed away."
Wu nodded slowly, his lips pulled tightly together, "Yes, an unfortunate occurrence. Hammond spoke of you when I went to see him before his death. He told me you were an excellent candidate for research assistance, and that you had been assisting Dr. Grant quite successfully during your college education and into adulthood," he smiled at her, "he was most fond of you in his tellings."
Her brows arched, "Well he was a kind man," she nodded slowly, trying to decipher the direction of where this was headed. She didn't like the situation here—she felt put into a corner, waiting for something to strike at her unexpectantly. "Delusional, but kind."
He chuckled, "Delusional? That would be debatable. Some would say he was a genius."
"Some would also say he was a madman with a delusional dream of grandeur." She quipped.
Wu's brows shot up, and he shrugged a shoulder, looking between the three of them before settling his stare back on her. He cleared his throat, "Hammond had a vision, a vision that was prematurely—"
"—playing God is always premature, Dr. Wu," Marianne cut in quickly, "Hammond had a dream that was dangerous and that unfeasible. He failed to look at history and see that man and dinosaurs had a chance together and didn't succeed."
Wu, obviously caught of guard, shook his head, "If you are implying a biblical approach to science, Miss Randal—"
"I'm merely implying an approach of both biblical and recent history, Dr. Wu. There is a reason these things have failed, and I think it's best to learn from our mistakes."
He leaned forward and placed his arms on the desk, folding his hands together. "So you would say Jurassic World is a mistake?"
She nodded firmly, gesturing with her hands, only to clap them back over her knee. "I would say it's...I would say the caution being displayed here would be poorly executed, yes." She swallowed, "John Hammond failed to see the lack of control in Jurassic Park twenty years ago, Dr. Wu. He failed to recognize the fact that man cannot control these things—that we've never been in control." She stared at him, him watching her with narrowed eyes.
"So you would say the same of Jurassic World?"
She was getting tired of his comparisons, his antagonistic approach. He wanted her to say it—wanted her to fall into the political pit. She stared at him in the face and set her jaw, "I would say Jurassic World is an updated version of Jurassic Park—the technology has changed and so has the staff, but the underlying factor is this: you didn't learn from Jurassic Park. You're making the same mistakes, just with different computers and different staff." She leaned forward, her hands digging into her knees as she tried to keep her tone cool and collected.
He straightened at this, looking slightly baffled. Claire was glaring at her as if she were the devil himself. Owen just stared at her, mouth slightly agape, his eyes blank and filled with complete and utter surprise, "I will admit this place is amazing. It's fantastic, actually. Utterly unbelievable. But, I for one can't forget what happened at Jurassic Park—people died, Dr. Wu. They died because they failed to see how small people really, truly are."
He brought his hands to his chin and tapped his steeped fingers against it, staring at her as if he were a predator letting its meal go, for now. Marianne was sweating now, her body aflame, and by the tension in the room, she knew she was either fired, or in deep with Claire. She swallowed thickly, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, waiting for Wu to respond. He let out a breath and shuffled some papers on his desk.
"Well then. You're certainly not the woman I thought you were, Miss Randal."
She gave him a sarcastic smirk, "No. I don't think I am."
He looked away from her to their file they had brought in, "I will look over the field report you compiled and let you know if there is anything else I need. I believe that's everything, Claire?" Obviously a cue to exit, Marianne stood. Owen was already crossing the room and had Sophie in his arms, moving back towards the door. Marianne pulled open the door, Wu catching her before she could exit. "Good to finally meet you, Miss Randal."
She nodded curtly to him. "And to you too, Doctor." She stepped out the door, not waiting for Owen, feeling rage burning within her body. Just wait until she told Alan that not only was Wu behind Jurassic World, he hadn't learned a thing from working with Hammond. He'd dug himself deeper into a pit.
"Marianne," Owen called after her, his voice sounding like he wanted to calm her down and talk. She didn't want to talk to him. She didn't want to talk with Claire, which she knew would be coming. She wanted to go to her bungalow, sit, and eat ice-cream and talk to Alan—wanted to escape the watching eyes and knowing glances, the ones that made her feel as if she was a total fish out of water here. Were these people so blind as to see they were making the biggest mistake of their lives?
She continually slammed the elevator button, but the car never came. Marianne hadn't realized she was crying until she sniffled and her eyes blurred with tears, her wet body heavy and chilled. Owen came up behind her with Sophie still in his arms, but she turned away from him, spotting the stairwell leading downstairs. She hurried towards it, whipped the door open and pounded down the stairs.
Owen, obviously in good shape to keep up with her while holdind a child, called out to her. "Marianne, hold one a second! Stop!" His voice echoed down the stairwell, but she whipped herself around the corner and pounded down another flight.
No. She didn't want to stop, or hold on. She wanted to run. Away from him and the feeling she had in her for him—a stupid attraction she knew would never amount to anything, because he had turned away from her. Away from Wu—who had made her look like a fool not only in front of Owen but in front of Claire. Away from Claire—who made her feel like less of a woman because of her opinions, her presence, and her jealously of her. Away from the paddock and the guys and the four raptors she wanted nothing more than to bond with.
Finally reached the ground floor, Owen's calls ringing behind her, she burst through the door and bolted for the main entrance. She pushed open the glass doors, and came out into the drizzle and the wind, which caught her hair. She look around and found the Jeep, knowing that Owen was going to need to take Sophie back to the resort and get her safe and sound. Nothing else in sight to get her back to her bungalow. Panic seized her, her panting from the strenuous task of taking the stairs, and she thought of where to go, what to do. She whirled around when Owen stumbled through the door, without Sophie. Marianne looked past him to see he'd placed her on one of the benches in the building, which was empty, as everyone had left in shuttles back to resort when the rain had lightened.
He stared at her, panting and sweating, both of them silent. His eyes pleaded with her to stay, not to run away. She swallowed thickly, her lungs burning. "Marianne, we need to talk about this—" He outstretched a hand towards her as he approached her quickly, suddenly.
Like a scared animal, she bolted down the rest of the stairs and out from under the canopy, shaking her head. Now wet again and freezing, she turned to him and back up, shaking her head and giving him a fake smile, then waved him off. Turning back around, she scanned the area, and found the maintenance road open. Looking over her shoulder at him, he was now standing in the rain, coming towards her, and she was surprised when his hand latched around her arm so quickly.
"We need to talk about this," he said over the wind. Her eyes scanned his, lost and confused and hurting, and she yanked her arm from his hand and stepped back. No. She didn't want to talk to him. She knew what he was going to say before he would say it. She understood.
"We don't, no. I understand." She shook her head, "What happened happened and that's that. Don't make it more complicated." She looked back to the building, the rain slicking her entire body and resoaking her boots and legs. Marianne was still panting when she shifted her gaze back to Owen. "I understand, it's fine. It's happened before. Say hey to Sophie for me when she gets up." She backed away from him before he could take her hand again, which he was reaching to do. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Marianne, don't—"
She waved him off, "It's okay," she called out to him in the rain, her heart hammering in her chest. She felt as if she'd cry again, but she refused to in front of him. No. She'd cried in front of Nick and that had been the biggest mistake of her life. She wouldn't do it now too. No way. "I understand. It's fine. I don't blame you!" She turned from him and jogged towards the maintenance road. "It's absolutely fine," she mumbled to herself, jogging around the corner of the gate.
She began the trek up the hill and into the park, sloshing in the gathered puddles and mud of the dirt road. She didn't look over her shoulder and pulled the hood of her raincoat over her head.