Marianne closed the laptop she'd be working on and slid it back into her messenger bag, before slinging it over her shoulder and closing the truck's tailgate with a loud bang. Dust shook to life off of the Ford, and settled around her hiking boots, which were equally caked with the sandy remains of desert. She pushed her sunglasses up on her head and brushed off the shoulder of her mid-riff shirt.
She began the hike from the truck down to the trailer, where most of her colleagues had broken for lunch from the desert; mostly to wait out the heat of the afternoon. Once she arrived, she dropped her bag just inside the trailer and retrieved a sandwich and a bottled water from the cooler around the other field assistants. She seated herself on a warm rock, and tucked into lunch.
Midway through her third bite of food, her phone rang inside her back pocket. She stood, fished out the phone, and registered the number briefly: unknown. Wrinkling her brow, she answered the call, tucked the phone along her shoulder, and walked a distance from the trailer.
"Hello?" she added, "this is Marianne," The line was clear, though the caller hesitated. She answered again, shielding her eyes with her hand, "Hello?"
"Marianne," came the sweet-honeyed voice.
Stupefied, Marianne's eyes widened as she pulled the phone from her ear and checked the number again, as if it would change. It hadn't, and she pulled it back to her ear and wrinkled her brow in confusion. She felt as if the entirety of the desert's sands had clogged her throat suddenly, because her tongue was dry. Her heart began to hammer as grief threatened to pull it down to her feet.
"Owen?" she dared to breathe. Who else could it be, she thought; with a voice that reminded her of bourbon and a chuckle that was so distinct now in her imagination. Much to her surprise, however, he was chuckling over the phone, too.
"You sound surprised," he said.
"That's the understatement of the century," she looked over her shoulder, then back across the expanse of desert; face still set in a stony expression. "Why are you calling?"
He chuckled again, and then she heard the distant and distinct screech of a Velociraptor over the line. Her heart hitched in her chest and rammed suddenly against her ribcage, overcome with emotion. She bit her lower lip and looked down at her feet as he replied, "I wanted to hear your voice, Annie."
He used her nickname, which sent her mind spinning. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, shaking her head to try and shake it off. It didn't work.
She dared a response. "Well, now you have."
His chortle was light, but throaty. Again, she heard the screech over the line and he added, "Hear that? It's Delta. She's back with the girls."
Her head perked up, and relief washed through her body like a crashing wave. Delta was alright, and had fully recovered from her operation. She closed her eyes and sighed in relief, nodding her consent to his statement as if he were standing right there in front of her. She wished for the sound again, but it didn't come. Instead, she heard his footfalls. He was walking.
"That's good news," she replied softly, "and the research?"
"In good hands. Peter sent it to the labs and associated firms for observation and documentation. It's due to hit the mainland sometime next month, to be submitted for paleontological study. Looks like Dr. Grant was right," he paused before adding, "how are you, Marianne?"
She looked over her shoulder, back to the trailer, to find her colleagues carrying on with lunch as if they didn't have a care in the world. She crossed her arm over her abdomen and shrugged, scuffing her hiking boot across the sands, only to have it tuft up over the heel of her boot. Sweat trickled down from her temple, and a piece of curl fell from her bun expectedly to brush her cheek. She swallowed thickly.
"I'm alright," she replied quietly, "working. We've excavated a new skeleton that's due in New York next week." That wasn't really his question, she knew, but she'd play the fool just to keep the steam rolling and away from the underlying topic. She crouched to run her hand through the sand, it falling between her fingers. Then, without thinking, she added, "How're you?"
"Okay," he replied in his usual perky chirp, "Things are getting back to normal with Delta at the paddock. Claire wants me to inspect the new enclosure tomorrow afternoon." He referenced the enclosure for the newest asset, the park's first "genetic hybrid" that had been so hush for months now. Marianne remembered having heard the gossip circulating the new dinosaur for some time.
She pressed her lips into a thin-line. "Oh. I see." The thought of Claire Dearing anywhere near Owen made her stomach flop over into a sour lump of brewing poison. She shouldn't hate the woman, she realized, but she also couldn't like her, either. "But other than that, you're okay? How's Sophie?"
"She misses you." He said, pointedly. He stopped walking, and over the line she heard a door slam. Then, he sighed. Owen hesitated a moment before adding, "I miss you, Marianne."
She stood and shrugged again. She knew what he wanted her to say, and she also knew that her insides were beginning to crumble. It wouldn't be long before she couldn't suppress tears anymore. "I miss you too," she said quietly, "And tell Sophie that I miss her, too."
There was an awkward pause between them before he suddenly blurted, "Ellie Sattler came to see me yesterday."
Her head snapped to attention, and her brow dropped into a furrow. Her chest exploded into an inferno of questions. "What?" She shook her head, "That's impossible. Ellie doesn't even know you."
"I know," he intoned quickly, "but she's here, at the park, on an expedition for National Geographic or something. She brought all this information from InGen that I've been looking over. Said you put it all together and passed it along to her." He hesitated, "Why didn't you tell me how serious this was?"
She rolled her eyes and covered her face with a hand, "I tried to, remember? I had Barry fax all that stuff over for safekeeping, before things could escalate." She shook her head, "It doesn't matter, now. What did Ellie say?"
"That she has people who could help us,"
She rolled her eyes again and puffed out a sharp, pointed breath. "Ellie has all sorts of contacts." She bit her lower lip before shaking her head, "What else did she say? Anything?"
"Only that I should deal with this and give it some thought," he sighed heavily, "but I don't know, Marianne. If this gets over to the military, who knows what could happen? It's all around dangerous."
"Does anyone there have any idea what this guy Hoskins is planning to do?" She challenged with a sigh. Really, this was the last thing she wanted to talk about. But, as she remembered the girls, so couldn't edge the thought from her mind.
"No," he replied, "well, I'm not really sure. I haven't really asked around." There was a sudden vehicular roar over the line, and she realized that he'd gotten into a vehicle of some kind and had started it. It sounded like he was driving, now. "My only worry is that if Wu and his people get that research from Peter and look it over, they're going to green-light this military thing with Hoskins. All of Alan's theories would make training raptors for military use a huge possibility."
Realization hit her between the eyes like a stone at his statement. It made perfect sense. If Wu and his laboratory rats got wind of the research that Peter had conducted during Delta's operation, Hoskin's would have his clearance to bring raptors to the mainland. Her heart began to beat faster and her stomach rose into her throat before she quickly spun on her heel.
If there was anyone who understood this research, it was Alan. And, if there'd be anyone to sway Masrani against this InGen plan, it would be him too. He'd been pursuing this theory for the majority of his career; had touched these animals and experienced them with his bare hands. There was simply no one else qualified who would be able to dissuade Masrani about this InGen project. Determined, Marianne stalked back towards the trailer.
"Owen," she inserted quickly, tromping up in the trailer to grab her messenger bag. "You've got to stop that research from getting to Wu. If it does, we'll never be able to stop InGen. We need to get our hands on it before it goes viral – those papers can't hit the mainland."
He hesitated, "Don't you have copies of them already?"
She winced. "I do, yes. But they're safe here with me and Alan." She pitched the laptop bag on her assigned bed, knelt, and pulled out a duffle bag of clothing to toss on the bed. She began sorting through it, selecting items and laying them out on the bed. "See if you can't get in touch with Ellie again. If you find her, ask her who she has in mind that will be able to help us. And see if you can't get your hands on that paperwork – ask Peter to recall the papers."
"He's not going to do that, Marianne –"
"He has to," she inserted sharply, standing. She looked out the small trailer's window to find Alan arriving in a dusty, green Jeep; his hat in hand as he checked in with the site's manager. He grabbed a duffle from the back of the Jeep and began moving towards the trailer. "See what you can do, Owen. I'll talk to you soon."
"Marianne, wait –"
She looked back to her packing, and without thinking, ended the call. Pitching the phone onto the bed, she hurried towards the trailer door and threw it open, finding Alan coming around the corner of the trailer, greeted by a few assorted colleagues now leaving from lunch to their respective transports. She hussled down the step, and stopped him mid-stride.
"Alan," she grabbed his arm.
He frowned at her from behind sunglasses. "Yeah?"
She gestured to his duffle, "You might not want to think about unpacking yet." Turning on her heel, she moved back into the trailer to retrieve her phone. She began going through her contacts when the door smacked closed behind her, only to have Alan drop his luggage by the door and stare at her, confused.
She found the contact, pressed call, and looked back at him as it began to ring. He mouthed, "What's going on?" and she held up a finger to still his comment as the line connected. She waited a moment for the recipient to answer the call.
"Yeah," was the introduction.
She smiled, "Nick. It's Marianne," she began going through her laptop bag, and found her passport, and remaining documentation from Jurassic World still tucked inside. She thumbed through the paperwork before turning to chuck her ID card at Alan, lanyard and all.
"Marianne?" He sounded stupefied.
"Yeah. I need a favor." she flicked a curl out of her face and looked at Alan across the trailer.
He sounded hopeful, "Yeah, sure. Anything. What's up?"
She snorted. "Well," she chimed, "I'm going to need your plane."