Author's Note: Have another update, because I was bored at work! Enjoy, and please leave a review upon your exit - so good to see you all again!

Claire's park-official Mercedez was parked outside Paddock 11 when Owen arrived in Marianne's Camaro. He found that the construction crew either had the day off or had taken an early lunch, because there was no movement around the usually-bustling enclosure. He parked the Camaro off to the side, twirled the keys on his finger, and took the steps up to the Paddock's observation room two at a time.

Claire was pacing back and forth, a phone pressed to her ear. She was wearing her signature white, with matching pumps, and her hair was in its usual pristine, symmetrical cut. Her makeup was extreme and looked professionally done – she looked like she'd stopped off the cover of a magazine much less a Jurassic World manager.

He looked around the observation room that looked out into the enclosure. It was designed modernly; with three large, reinforced pane-glass windows allowing a picturesque view into the paddock. Positioned at either side of the windows were two control kiosks – in the corner, a technician quietly observed the cameras and the animal's movements while munching on donuts.

Owen approached the windows – immediately, he noticed cracking in the upper left corner, as if repeatedly hit over and over in an attempt to gain access inside. From what he could tell, the indent pushed inward – signs that something inside the paddock was trying to break the glass, versus something inside the observation room trying to get out.

Owen's brow dropped into a wrinkled furrow, and he frowned severely – the hair on the back of his neck rose a few inches. Something dropped in his gut; an uncertainty he'd learned to take heed of. Working with intelligent animals like raptors tended to give him a keen sense of danger and great observation skills. His eyes scanned around the paddock, but he didn't see any movement. He got a chill, and shivered.

Something's off, he thought.

Claire ended her call and approached him, her heels clicking on the cement floor. She stood to his left, crossing her arms in front of her to smirk at him. "Didn't think you'd ever get here," she said, her voice stoic, "you're late."

He shrugged, his eyes still perusing the paddocks' interior for any sight of the new hybrid. "That surprises you?" He replied, off the cuff.

She guffawed, "Not in the least," and began tapping one of the kiosks, and he stepped closer to the glass, examining the large abnormality in the left corner. Calling over her shoulder to the tech, she snapped her fingers – "could we drop a steer, please?"

Owen half-registered her remark, instead his mind focusing on the task at hand and the warning bells going off in his brain. He'd heard stories of the new hybrid– like the fact it ate its sibling, grew at abnormally rates, and the like. Originally, Owen wasn't too thrilled with the idea of hybrids – Claire said that it would bring more publicity to the park and thus more profits, and "reinvigorate interests". Owen and Marianne had discussed the parks newest asset before she'd shipped off to the mainland – there had been concerns from both parties involved.

Owen rubbed his stubble chin and released a sigh, then massaged the bridge of nose. His work with raptors and other predators gave him an idea of what he should be looking for and what questions to ask – as a general rule, animals that were raised in isolation tended to be dysfunctional, like people. Having no interaction with other living organisms or other environments left them uncertain of not only their abilities, but self-awareness.

He puffed out a breath, his eyes skittering across the paddock. It was odd that the animal wasn't around – given the rumors, and the size of the paddock, he expected it to be huge. But, he saw nothing yet. More alarm bells rang off in the back of his head. He bit his lower lip and clamped his jaw. There was a mechanical whirr, then a shrill shriek, and Owen saw the animal's lunch lower into the paddock from a mechanical crane. His brow shot up, in surprise.

Owen turned to Claire, wrapped his arms around his chest, and brace his legs a shoulders width apart. He asked his first question. "What exactly is this new hybrid you've got, Claire?"

She tapped away on her phone, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. She eyed him with a look that was close to seductive, but Owen paid it no mind. She grinned. "The base genome is a T-Rex, but the rest is classified information," she responded. The redhead approached him, one foot in front of the other, and shot a look to the tech. "If you'd excuse us – we need to discuss sensitive information,"

With nothing more than that, the man stepped out the door, leaving Owen effectively boxed into Claire's little enclosure. A brow popped up over his left eye as she pressed a single finger into his chest, and bumped him into the window. Her brow cocked and her lips parted in a slow grin. Owen suddenly felt like a mouse caught in a cat's trap, and he didn't like that feeling, at all. His butt pocket buzzed with his cell phone, suddenly.

He swatted her finger off his chest and frowned at her, taking a step forward to brush by her coldly. "You just make a new dinosaur and you don't even know what it is?" He chastised her bitingly.

Surprised, she frowned at him and shot him a sneering look, "The lab delivers us finished assets and we show them to the public," she shot back at him, her tone icy. She crossed her arms, stalked back towards him and slid in front of him quickly. Then, Claire cocked a hip and shot him a twisted grin.

He raised his chin to her, then turned away from her to look back inside the enclosure, "How long has the animal been in here?" he asked, his tone more demanding than questioning. He curled his toes within his boots, eager to get out from under her microscope of observation. Owen was finding it tougher to understand why he'd ever considered dating her to begin with.

Claire huffed and he saw her roll her eyes from his peripheral vision. His phone buzzed, again. "All its life," she replied with a snark.

A rock of doubt and alarm ricocheted off his chest cavity and fell into his gut. He whirled on her so quickly that he stumbled into the glass window, off balance. "What? You mean it's never seen anything outside of the paddock?"

Alarmed, her brows shot up and she shrugged a dismissive shoulder. "We can't exactly walk it, Grady," she undermined him by addressing him with his last name. She seemed mesmerized as the steer's carcass dropped into the enclosure, and glanced at him from the corner of her eye – she gave him a teasing half smile.

Owen put his hands on his hips and watched the crane ascended back up, empty. It retracted from the paddock, and he shook his head slowly. "Claire," he rubbed his temples slowly, "you can't just –"

She rolled her eyes and huffed again, "Do we have a problem, Owen?" She came towards him suddenly, one foot in front of the other; balanced grace, and stepped into his personal space. She cocked her head to the side, lifted a knowing brow over her left eye, and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

He started with, "Animals that live in isolation are usually dysfunctional, Claire –"

She shook her head, pushed him back against the glass again, and pressed a finger to his lips. "That's not exactly what I meant," she insinuated, and closed the distance between them slowly, "do we," she gestured between them, "have a problem?"

Now a burning alarm ignited his brain as if it were pilot light on a stove. Owen flattened himself against the pane glass in an attempt to put air between them – she just moved closer, with lidded eyes and a smirk marring her lips. His heart began to stir abnormally. He swallowed a clammy lump in his throat, only to find it had almost entirely sealed off.

"Claire," he started, chuckling nervously, "I don't know what you're talking about," he shook his head, then gestured between them, "there is no 'us'." When his phone buzzed a third time, Owen took a charging step from the window and shouldered past her, suddenly in control of the situation. He whirled around to face her. "There was never an 'us'."

She frowned savagely, her eyes flashing to a dark ice of disgust that he remembered on their first date. In the back of his mind he suddenly pictured dark sapphire eyes from the night before – Marianne's. His stomach convulsed. He felt like he'd be sick, and ran a nervous hand through his hair.

She eked out a gasp, and stomped away from him, throwing her hands into the air, "I can't believe you –" she gestured into the paddock, "what do you mean there was never an 'us'? We dated, didn't we?"

"One date, Claire!" He emphasized the one by flashing his index finger from his balled fist, "We went on one date!" He turned back to the paddock, sighed, and waved off the conversation. He began searching the enclosure again. "Where is this animal, Claire?" He redirected the conversation, "I don't see it."

She rolled her eyes, heaved an aggravated breath, and stalked towards the kiosk. "It's in there," she tapped furiously, and the kiosk suddenly flashed red and buzzed an annoyed chirp. Owen's attention diverted to the machine so fast he was sure his neck would snap right off and Claire' face blanched white before it fell into a frown. She shot a blank and expressionless look to him, before her eyes filled with desperation.

He moved towards the kiosk, and Claire did the same thing. It buzzed back at her three more times before she moved towards the tech's control panel, her body tight with adrenaline. "We were just here, I just saw her –" her tone was on the verge of a manic breakdown.

A sneaking suspicion that was tinged with fear surged through his body. Owen knew that something was wrong – red flags, warning bells, and checkmarks floated through his so fast it made his mind foggy with uncertainty. He diverted his attention back to the glass, adrenaline pumping, and scanned the huge gate on the north wall – his spirit deflated as if it had been a popped balloon. He swallowed back a sharp, needle-like breath that burned his throat. His eyes floated closed.

More alarming, mechanical beeps erupted from the control panel. In the glass' reflection, Owen could see them flashing red. Claire was mumbling expletives, garbled with, "This doesn't make any sense – these doors have been sealed off for months –" before he gestured to the gate and turned to cock a brow at her.

"These claw marks always been there, Claire?"

She whirled around so fast that she staggered into the control panel, squeaking. The look of horror on her face was enough to let Owen know that she was on the verge of panic, and she hurried over, heels clicking in abnormal strides, and gasped loudly. A shaky hand covered her mouth as her eyes scanned the markings on the wall beside the gate.

They were deep gashes and claw marks in the cement, reaching upward, in frantic patterns as if the animal had tried latching on to something to hoist herself out of the paddock. Owen went for his phone immediately as Claire began backpedaling, shaking her head.

"You don't think…," her voice trailed off in disbelief, and Owen snorted at the nerve of her comment.

He unlocked his phone, cleared the messages from Marianne, and began punching in her number. His heart was throbbing so hard that it took a moment for him to catch his breath and focus his attention away from the blood pulsing through his ears. He snorted, "You'd better find out," before pressing the phone to his ear.

Claire nodded, and bolted from the observation room, "She has an implant in her back – I can track it from the control room," she stated, flying out the door to hustle herself down the stairs. In a matter of moments, she was in her Mercedez and rocketing away from the paddock. Owen was too busy counting the rings before the call connected.

"Marianne," he said quickly, "I really hope you've got Sophie with you."

. . .

Sophie kicked her feet back and forth against the vinyl of the Jeep's front seat, gazing at the window as the foliage passed by quickly in a mixture of blurry, green hues. Marianne checked the rearview as if someone would be following her, but instead just found a fine trail of dust floating up from the packed gravel road.

She drew her attention back to the road ahead, and wrinkled her brow. Ahead, there was a gathering cloud of dust, and headlights shining brightly. They flicked on and off, as if someone was triggering the high-beams off and on again, and within seconds the flash of silver SUV roared past them, honking loudly. There wasn't enough room between her and oncoming car.

Marianne braked the Jeep and pounded the clutch simultaneously; skidding on the gravel, and swerved off the side of the road to allow the car to pass. Sophie screamed as the car skidded to a halt, half off the road, and Marianne's hands flung form the wheel to slam the gearshift into neutral. Her foot was still on the brake and clutch as she went to examine the gasping child. She unclicked her seatbelt and turned to face the little girl, who had a steely grip on her seat-belt. Marianne swallowed back dry breath.

"Sophie – are you okay?" She asked, frantic, "I'm sorry, I didn't know –"

Sophie's attention diverted to the cup holder, and she nodded, gesturing to her phone. "I'm okay," she responded to the initial question, "your phone is ringing."

The phone vibrated and Marianne snatched it up, answering the call and falling back into her seat to rest her head against the rest. She inhaled a deep breath and pressed the phone to her ear, letting her eyes close in hopes of settling her frazzled nerves. The call connected.

"Hello –"

"Marianne," it was Owen's voice, sounding rushed and unsure. There was a loud screeching on the other end, like a bird call, and she sat up. Reaching down, she shifted the Jeep into first and maneuvered back on the road, picking up speed towards the paddock, and he continued, "I really hope you have Sophie with you."

She frowned, her nose wrinkling in confusion. "Of course I have her with me. She's right here. We're almost at the paddock,"

He was breathing hard, and there was muttering that sounded distant. Marianne bit her lower lip. There was an exchange of words, and she heard Owen mumbled "…wall is forty feet high," before there was a low whistle. A nervous ball of fire slid down her throat slowly, and she looked over to Sophie, who sat blissfully unaware.

"Owen?" She asked quickly, drawing to draw his attention back. When her attempts failed, she continued to listen. There was the exchange of, "…really climbed out?" and Owen's "it depends," before there was a break in speech and Marianne gasped.

She floored the accelerator – the transmission whined, and she threw the Jeep into the next gear, her back axle fishtailing on the gravel lightly. Sophie gave her a wrinkled expression that was dotted with confusion, and sweat began to form in every pore on Marianne's body. Panic laced her veins and stole away her breath like a thief, and she closed her eyes for only a brief second as the thought eked its way into her brain.

Alan was right. It was quickly dismissed when there was a suddenly mechanical crackling on the line, and she pulled the phone away from her ear to check for interference or low service areas. When she found none, she replaced the phone, checked her speed, and pushed the Jeep harder. She swallowed a breath and called into the phone loudly, "Owen? Owen, are you - "

"Yeah, Marianne, hold on – what's going on?"

There was a brief pause before Owen cursed loudly, and became distant, screaming, "Go, go – go!" She heard the rustling of what sounded like trees and snapping branches, as well as Owen's ragged breathing, before there was a ragged expletive and a shriek – the call disconnected after that.

Marianne stuffed the phone into her pocket, and floored the accelerator again. The transmission shrieked again, but all Marianne could register was the blood-curdling scream on the other end of the phone.

. . .

"Someone – tell me what is going on!?"

Claire's screams were haggard as she tried inhaling air into her flaming lungs. She was dripping bullets of sweat even though she'd cranked the A/C in her Mercedez – twice. Her hands were trembling furiously as she gripped the wheel of her car tighter in a vain hope that the action would topple the events now spiraling out of control.

Fear clenched down on her insides in a throttling strangle – it was getting harder to think logically and breathe with every second that ticked by. Her stomach felt like a brewing pit of acid, bubbling up to dissolve her organs into mush. She gripped her phone so hard she thought it would snap in half. A part of her wished it would.

She slammed her foot against the accelerator, the car careening on the gravel slightly as she guided it back towards the control room. Yes – the control room. If she could only get to the control room, she could shock the animal until ACU could arrive and figure out what exactly was going on.

Amidst the screaming on the other end of the line and her nervous gasping, Claire had the sinking suspicion that something had gone very, very wrong, and that Marianne Randal had been very, very right.

. . .

For a split second, Owen had the thought that he was dead and this was his eternal hell. But, as his heart rammed against his ribs to the point of bruising and his adrenaline instinctively kicked into overdrive to propel him forward, a seemingly non-functional part of him realized that he was still alive, but was going to be dead in a mere matter of seconds.

Death didn't come, though – all that came was the sinking feeling of fear, and the realization that no matter how hard he'd tried, he couldn't change the inevitable. He pumped his arms as his feet ate the gravel beneath him – it was difficult to stay balanced with the thundering earth beneath his feet and the decaying breath racing down his neck.

The animal shrieked a roar behind him that sent ghostly shivers down his back. Owen would have been frozen in terror had his survival instincts not kicked in. At times like these – times of sheer terror – his Naval conditioning was what kept him alive. Owen lurched forward again when he felt the wave of air behind him – the creature had swiped at him with its massive talon, and he'd barely evaded it.

He focused his attention on the door – it was closing, thanks to the technician who had manned the controls. The way Owen could see it, it could go one of two ways – he and this beast were getting out, or he was staying in and was a dead man. Neither were ideal scenarios, but with a last-ditch burst of speed, Owen cleared the door.

Then was a loud bang that rattled the earth, and then mixed sounds of crunching metal, roaring lungs, and crumbling concrete. The earth shook so terribly that Owen stumbled, almost falling into the maintenance truck to his right. He didn't dare glance over his shoulder – instead, he acted on pure instinct, slid to a stop, and scrambled beneath the truck.

His heart raced against the floor through his chest, and he felt lightheaded as he tried to quiet his breathing. Owen's eyes widened as he watched the beast burst through the paddock's gate as if it had been built if twine – the creature's gate was strong and powerful. It hunched as it walked, with long arms and short, thick legs – she looked something like a T-Rex, as Claire had said, but he wasn't sure what else was mixed in the genes.

All he knew was the jaws of the animal were bloody and filled with ragged flesh and cloth as she pounded forward, surveying the area. Owen feared his concerns were corrected – this animal had never seen the outside of her containment unit, so everything was new. She was unsure of who she was, what she was capable of, and where she sat on the food chain. Never good signs for an animal of this size.

He could smell her stench from even beneath the truck, as she sniffed the area, prowling. Owen's eyes dared not look away – instead, they followed her path around the Jurassic World truck as she lowered her head. Owen was curious for a moment, until his eyes found the cowering technician cradled against the grille of the vehicle. He closed his eyes and released a breath.

There was a beastly snarl, and then in a fraction of a second, the animal wheeled back on powerful legs and plucked the truck up off the ground, rattling the earth. Owen recoiled back beneath his cover as the truck crashed to earth – glass shattered and flew in all directions, hardly audible against the animal's roar and the blood pounding through his head. The truck crumpled, and the hiding technician vanished from view. Owen's breathing became irregular as his nails dug into the gravel beneath him – he bit down on her lower lip loudly when there was a scream, then the distinct clamping of a jaw and the snap of bone and cartilage.

Images played through his mind only for a second until he scrambled beneath the truck onto his back, rolling to face the under-carriage of the vehicle. It took a fraction of a second for him to locate the fuel line, and he pulled the knife from his belt and but open the house. Instantly the fuel began to drain from the line and he slathered himself with it – it burned his eyes and marred his clothes, effectively covering the smell of body. He stilled when the animal batted the truck away and approached his hiding spot, seeming to remember where he'd gone.

He rested motionless; heart battering his ribs for release. The earth trembled beneath him with every step this creature took – her nose lowered to the ground; bloody jaws partially open and marred with ragged flesh and remains. He could smell death, and flesh, and decaying meat on her breath. He swallowed back a eke, and her nostrils flared as they edged closer to the truck –

She bolted upright suddenly when there was the sound of tires on gravel, and a cloud of dust appeared from the mouth of the road leading towards the paddock's acreage. There was a guttural growl that emanated from her and then a shriek as she registered the Jeep's presence. Owen forgotten, he scrambled onto his belly and edged towards the rear axle of the truck to register the new arrival.

His fears were confirmed – it was Marianne. His eyes widened as he watched the Jeep brake hard, fishtail on the dirt to come around in a 180, and stop. He could see through the back windshield Marianne – she unbuckled her belt, then reached across to unbuckle the passenger, and forced the other passenger to the floorboards into the backseat. He saw the figure, closed his eyes, and his spirit sank. Sophie.

Marianne scrambled down behind her, and the creature moved towards the Jeep. Even as a massive animal, she moved with the grace of an accomplished hunter. She stalked around the Jeep, checking the windows – she looked in the front first, as if remembering the driver and her passenger had been there, before looking towards the back.

. . .

Marianne's body was trembling furiously as she ducked low in the cramped backseat of the Jeep. She couldn't breathe, and she felt like she would throw up – rivulets of swear were running down her body and soaking through her clothes. She was fairly certain her heart and swelled into her lungs and mixed her organs together.

Sophie was in no better shape. She was trembling violently and squeaking in whimpering breaths – her face was ghostly white. She'd already vomited on the floor and streams of tears were pouring down the little girl's face as the animal circled the car. Marianne hadn't been sure what had happened at first – she'd braked the car hard when the transmission gave a squealing whine and locked her out. It had taken a fraction of a second for Marianne to understand what had happen – and even less for her worst fears to come true.

Her first thought was to call Alan and tell him how terribly wrong she had been, and how right he was. But, try as she might, she would've never remembered his phone number. Her brain was numb with pulsing adrenaline working to keep her alive – all she could think about was how to survive. It was hard enough to remember to breathe. Adding numbers in the mix? Forget it.

She slowed her breathing and carefully reached across the floor for Sophie's hand. The little girl clenched onto it tightly and Marianne gave it a reassuring squeeze. It did little, however, when the animal reared back her head and screamed into the air – a scream that shook the car, the earth, and seemed to rattle the very glass. Marianne swallowed back a mouthful of bile that had risen up from her stomach and took an uneasy breath through her nose.

She screamed when the animal nudged the Jeep with her nose, rattle the car. This accomplished something, because the animal reacted with a snort that fogged the passenger door's glass over Sophie's head, and there was a shriek of metal as the animal's arm came down on the roof. It dented, glass smashed and rained down on their heads, and the animal's heavy snorts rustled the air above their heads. Then, the smelled of death and rotting flesh permeated the car.

Sophie was screaming riotously as the car jostled back and forth as the animal's claws began tearing it apart. Something wet dripped onto Marianne's arm and she looked up, amidst pulling Sophie across the floor and into her body as she braced against the door. Overhead, she could see straight down the animal's throat, and realized she'd clamped her jaws over the top of the Jeep.

The girl against her was trembling and bawling, pressing farther into Marianne and squeezing the circulation off from her arms. Then, after no success came for the dinosaur, the vehicle wobbled momentarily before Marianne realized they were suspended in mid-air. She looked out the rear window – given the treeline, she guessed maybe they were ten or fifteen feet in the air.

The dinosaurs mouth clamped down again, crunching the metal as the vehicle's crumbling-points began to give. Marianne thought fast – they didn't have long before the Jeep gave out altogether. Her mind began to spin, and without thought, she pulled Sophie away and grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards the trunk of the car.

"Out the back, out the back!" She screamed, more glass raining down around them. The sound of the crumpling car was immense and piercing, as was the sounds emanating from the dinosaur's throat. Frustrated, the dinosaur roared, giving Marianne and Sophie pause – they clamped their hands over their ears, trembling at the deafening sound, until Marianne forced the girl over the backseat and they tumbled into the cramped trunk.

She tried the truck's release – locked. She cursed under her breath, and scanned around the vehicle as Sophie's whimpering sobs grew louder. The walls of the vehicle were starting to cave in, making their working room thinner and thinner, until soon there'd be nothing left. None of the back windows were large enough to crawl out of, and the passenger windows would leave them directly in the jaws of the attacking monster. No escape except through the trunk.

Spotting the tire iron, Marianne went to grab it when suddenly they were falling and she screamed, her back slamming against the roof of the car. Sophie tumbled on top of her as the Jeep hit the earth again, tumbling end over end, until finally it stopped. What was left of the back window was jagged pieces here and there, but nothing more – instead, a piece had embedded itself in her hand, and she moaned as Sophie scrambled off of her. Ripping the glass from her hand, she blinked away the trickle of blood streaming into her eye and pressed a finger to her lips to quiet the girl.

The dinosaur seemed to contemplate the events for a moment. Marianne could see it clearly from her position looking out the back window – it was unlike anything she'd seen before. She realized immediately that this was the hybrid the park had been mulling about for weeks and weeks, and she was horrified – somewhere between monster and nightmare, the animal was easily the size of a T-Rex, but with unmatched features. She was a pale white color, almost ashen, and her jaws were menacing. Talons curved from abnormally long and muscular arms, and her powerful legs were like tree trunks. Marianne swallowed back a gasp of horror as she moved closer, her strides rattling the world.

Sophie curled against her, whimpering, and Marianne pressed the girl's head against her chest. She closed her eyes and waited, inevitably, for what would come – another jostling ride, or the animal ripping the car apart and devouring them. Her heart was seizing in her chest, trying to kickstart, and adrenaline was making her body both hot and cold at once. A tear slipped down her cheek, though no sobs made it through the barricade in her throat.

Before the hybrid was upon them, there was a honking horn, the bite of tires on gravel, and a flash of white dot her vision. Briefly, Marianne wondered what salvation had come to her and Sophie, but when the truck braked sharply, she saw the driver – Owen. He laid on the horn, signaling the dinosaur's attention, which perked in his direction. The dinosaur turned to investigate the new threat, and before it could get close, Owen slammed the accelerator and rammed the vehicle into the dinosaur's leg.

It roared, stepped back, and went to attack the car just as Marianne saw Owen duck out of the car in a tuck and roll. He scrambled away in a military crawl as the dinosaur wrestled with the car, flipping it up and over and turning it end over end. She tore the metal apart, smashed the windows – ran her talon through the hood and engine block. Marianne began to tremble as shock began to set into her body, barely registering the fact that Owen was inching towards the vehicle.

He came to the back door, now ripped off, and poked his head through. He looked through the door to find the dinosaur preoccupied, and turned his attention to Marianne. Leaning over the seat, he reached out to touch Sophie's shoulder, reeking of diesel as he pulled air into his lugs heavily. Sophie opened her mouth to speak, but Owen clamped a hand over it, shaking his head, no.

He gently helped her over the seat, the crunching metal and jostling of the vehicle still loud outside their cover. The dinosaur battled still with the maintenance truck, roaring and screeching and grunting as Owen held his niece tightly with one arm around her shoulders, her clinging to him. Then, he turned to Marianne, and gestured past her shoulder. She turned to see the spare bottle of engine coolant topped over, and looked back to him. He wiggled his fingers for her to hand it to him.

She obliged, and he set it on the seat beside him, then offered her a hand. She almost let out a sob as her trembling fingers took hold of his hand and he helped her over the seat, slowly.

He gestured to the door on his right, and they slipped out the open window, carefully. They were, thankfully enough, facing the jungle's welcoming foliage, and they all three bolted for the tree line. They ran in a yard or two before hunkering down behind a big rock, the dinosaur barely visible now within the fronts of the array of plant life.

Uncapping the bottle without hesitation, Owen poured half of it down the front of Marianne's shirt and then the other over Sophie, before tossing the bottle aside. They sat quietly, collecting their individual thoughts and breathing, until the dinosaur seemed to tire of the car. She tossed it away as if it were a toy, and scanned the area – she was looking for them.

After a few moments of no success, the hybrid let out a frustrated growl and a roar before stomping away down the road, out of sight. The world was quiet then as her shaking footfalls fell away, and only once the sounds of the jungle erupted to life around them did Marianne collapse into Owen and release a sob.

He was there immediately, holding her in a tight embrace as she buried her face into his chest. He smelled terrible of fuel, but she didn't care. She sobbed into his shirt and tried to control her trembling, but it failed. He held her tightly, before an arm fell away to comfort Sophie, who was crying as well and shaking probably worse than Marianne was.

Marianne pulled away and moved towards the little girl, turning Sophie to face her. She began to run her hands over the girl's body, checking for any abnormalities or broken bones through blurry eyes. Owen was right beside her, checking her over – Sophie was just standing and crying, her body trembling, before she flung herself at Marianne and sobbed into her shoulder violently. Marianne wrapped her arms around the girl and picked her up, struggling to stand.

Owen grabbed her arm and stabilized her. Marianne noticed he was covered in filth from head to toe, but she didn't care. She didn't say anything as he welcomed her into his arms as she held his niece, and she buried her face in chest again, letting out a relieved sob. He rested his chin on top of her head and held her tightly, shushing her in an attempt to calm them both down.

His voice took on that bourbon-y tone that usually calmed her down – it did little, in light of today's events, "It's alright," he said quietly, swallowing a breath, "it's okay. I'm right here – I'm right here." Owen took Sophie from her carefully, and the girl latched herself around Owen as he pressed her head to his shoulder. With the other arm, he drew Marianne to his side pressed a kiss to her forehead. She began to settle down.

"She's…she's headed towards - to the park," she dared to speak, her voice a cracking crock of mumbled syllables and vowels, "I – I don't understand –"

Owen dismissed it with a shake of his head, and they began walking back towards the paddock, "We've gotta move," he insisted in a whisper, scanning the area with his eyes, "that thing might come back and establish this as her territory. We need to move now and get back to the park to warn the others."

Marianne nodded her consent, and they hustled towards the destroyed paddock, past the three wrecked vehicles, and piled into her Camaro. Owen rested Sophie in the back seat, who now was silently numb and sitting passively. She stared straight ahead, into Marianne's seat, saying nothing. Marianne turned around in the passenger's seat to lean over and examine her as Owen fired the Camaro to life and took off towards the direction of the park. Given the trail of destroyed foliage and settling dust, they opted for the maintenance route instead of the public road.

"Sophie, honey," Marianne said, her voice beginning to settle from its previous quavering, "say something – does anything hurt? Feel broken? Are you cold?" She was already showing the basic symptoms of shock, but Marianne knew getting her to talk was a step in the right direction.

When the girl diverted her eyes up form staring blankly at the seat, she swallowed and swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. "I threw up," she squeaked, looking down to her lap and gesturing to her stained shorts, "I'm sorry I –"

Marianne shook her head, reaching for Sophie's hand. "No, no – don't be sorry. It's okay you threw up," she shared a look with Owen and gave her attention back to Sophie, "Tell me, Sophie – do you know what kind of dinosaur that was?" Owen had mentioned his niece was a dinosaur fanatic.

"No," she squeaked.

Marianne shrugged. "That's okay," she said quietly, "I don't, either." She squeezed Sophie's hand – it was ice cold. Marianne worked off her stained shirt and draped it around the girl's shoulders; button the first few buttons in an attempt to house some of the girl's body heat. "We're going to get you back to the park, to see a doctor," she finished.

Sophie said nothing, instead passively looked out the window, resting her head against the backseat. Marianne sank back on her legs, flattening against the door. Her heart was still hammering, and Owen reached across the console to run his finger over the smudge of dirt over her right eye.

"How about you?" He asked her, "You okay? You have a nasty cut above your eye," he paused, "anything broken?"

She shook her head, no. "No," she held up a hand, "just need a couple stitches I think and I'll be ok." His brow dropped into a scowl as he floored the Camaro again, shifting gears, and shook his head once. She dropped her voice into a whisper, "Owen, are you ok?"

He nodded, and held up a hand as if to stave off her questions, "Yes," he said with biting clarity, "I'm fine." He paused, checked the rearview and folded his hand around the steering wheel – this time in a white-knuckled grip, "I'm going to kill Henry."

If something else didn't get to him first, Marianne was fairly sure that Owen Grady would.