Chapter 2: Gathering the Team

Mombasa, Kenya, May 1997

The local bar in Mombasa was particularly busy today. Waiters and waitresses moved back and forth, squeezing through the tight spaces between chairs, zigzagging through the maze of tables. Most of the customers were loud and rambunctious, especially one particular table of Americans who shared stories and told jokes that were only humorous to their own drunken ears. The day was hot and sunny, as it usually was in this part of Africa, which helped bring in even more customers.

It got to the point where both the outdoor and indoor components of the bar were full, and people had to start leaning up against the walls if they wanted to stay for a drink. The outdoor tables were circular tables with a large wooden umbrella. Of course, considering the umbrella was made of sticks instead of fabric, sunshine still touched most of the wooden tables. But, the guests, sitting lazily in their wooden chairs, didn't seem to mind.

Most of the tables were full, but at one - small, rectangular, and with the umbrella positioned to the side - sat a solitary man with the diamond-hard look of a cobra. He wore a pink open dress shirt over a white undershirt and grey dress pants with a brown belt. The man was in his late fifties but was well-toned and very fit for his age. The same couldn't be said about his hair, though, for he had none. He was entirely bald, though he wasn't ashamed of it. The tan Panama hat he wore was merely to protect his vulnerable head from sunburn. Fortunately, his leather-like skin didn't sunburn too easily, but it never hurt to be too careful, especially in Africa.

The man was all too familiar with the dangers of Africa, for the man's name was Roland Tembo. Roland was quite familiar with the continent. He was a hunter of big game. He was seasoned too. A veteran in his field. He had hunted practically every large, wild animal from elephants in the savannah to tigers in Siberia. He was widely regarded as the best, though Roland simply considered himself as experienced. Too experienced, really.

At the moment, Roland was staring down at a book spread open on the table before him, carefully reading the contents. The obnoxious American tourists were nearby, making a ruckus, but Roland was able to tune them out. He simply ignored them, eating his lunch and drinking his beer while he read the book through his rectangular eyeglasses.

But then, suddenly, Roland stopped. A familiar scent had wafted past his nose. Being an adept hunter, he had developed a keen sense of smell, allowing him to quickly identify the scent. He smiled, knowing very well who the scent belonged to. Roland sniffed the air once more, just to be sure, but there was no doubt.

Roland suddenly spun around in his seat and extended his arm to point at the man attempting to sneak up behind him. The man froze, caught by surprise. Roland couldn't help but grin.

"Ajay!" he said triumphantly in his slight British accent. Roland had been exactly right. The man who had been attempting to catch him by surprise was none other than Ajay Sidhu, a wiry East Indian man in his forties. The man was small and thin, but also lean and, as Roland knew from experience, quite tough as well. He was balding, though he still had short, black hair that clung to the back of his head. He wore a pair of thin, circular glasses, which were settled on the bridge of his hooked nose. Roland knew Ajay very well. They had gone on many adventures together and they had known each other for many years. Ajay was an old, good friend, one Roland could put all of his trust in.

A wide smile fell across Ajay's face as he extended his arms out, offering a hug. "How did you know?" he asked delightfully, walking up to him.

Roland quickly got out of his chair and the two friends embraced, patting each other on the back. When they separated a short moment later, Roland gently tapped the side of his nose.

"That cheap aftershave I send you every Christmas," Roland explained. "You actually wear it," he added, getting a laugh and a nod out of Ajay. "I'm touched." Roland then gestured to an empty chair which was set not too far from his table. "Sit down, sit down," he offered, pulling up the chair. When he and Ajay had sat down in their respective seats, Roland asked, "What on Earth brings you to Mombasa?"

"You, actually," Ajay said.

"Me?" Roland asked.

Ajay nodded. Ajay put his elbows on the table and set his arms out before him, interlocking his fingers. "I got a call from a gentleman who's going to Costa Rica, or thereabouts," Ajay explained. "If he's to be believed, it's a most, uh, unique expedition. And very well funded."

"Well, I'm a very well-funded old son of a bitch," he said jokingly. However, Roland's face then dimmed, and he added, "You go."

Ajay gave him a surprised and confused look. "What, alone? But we always had such great success together, you and I."

Roland took a swig of his beer. "Just a little bit too much, I think," he said.

"How do you mean?" Ajay asked, confused.

Roland hesitated briefly to pour Ajay a shot of beer. "A true hunter doesn't mind if the animal wins," he eventually said. "If it escapes," he added. "But there weren't enough escapes from you and me, Ajay. We were a firing squad, don't you think? It all became rather routine." Roland sighed dismissively. "I have no interest in being an executioner."

Ajay didn't seem fazed by Roland's dismissal of his proposition. "I have good reason to believe that you would find this challenging," he said.

"Then it's probably illegal," Roland scoffed. "These days, it's a more serious crime to shoot a tiger than to shoot your own parents."

Suddenly, a loud commotion sprang up from a few tables away, dragging Roland and Ajay's attention away from the conversation. The noise came from none other than the table with the obnoxious American tourists. They had been agitating everyone at the bar since they arrived. Even Roland, as he talked to Ajay, was having trouble ignoring them. But then it reached a new height.

A waitress had walked up to the table, preparing to offer them more drinks, when one American, the most obnoxious of the group, suddenly grabbed her and pulled her into his lap. The American's friends merely hollered and cheered, throwing catcalls and teases their way. The American basked in the attention. The poor woman, however, was having none of it. She began struggling against her captor's grasp, desperately trying to get away. But her struggles only excited the Americans further. Even when the waitress bit the American holding her, he and his friends merely laughed and jeered.

Roland looked back at Ajay. "Tigers have advocates," he said. "Excuse me."

Suddenly, after taking one last swig of beer, Roland got up from his chair and made his way over towards the disturbance. When he arrived, Roland calmly pulled the waitress off of the man and away from the table. The group of tourists quieted down, snickering to each other, waiting eagerly for whatever was coming next. However, the most obnoxious of them - the man who had grabbed the waitress, went silent, staring up defiantly at Roland with a smug smile on his face.

Roland whispered something to the waitress, speaking to her in the native tongue, before sending her off. He then looked down at the obnoxious American. With a calm, almost bored look on his face, Roland said, "You, sir, are no gentleman."

The group only laughed, mocking Roland and throwing jests his way. The tourist simply crossed his arms and asked, "Is that supposed to be an insult?"

"I can think of none greater," Roland replied simply.

The group laughed again before the American said dismissively, "Buzz off, you old bastard." He looked over at his friends while they all collectively laughed.

Roland, however, was not deterred.

"Well, what do I have to do to pick a fight with you?" Roland asked, wiping down his lenses with his dress shirt before sticking them down its breast pocket. He then looked the tourist dead in the eyes and said, "Bring your mother into it?"

"Ooooooh," the gang of tourists jeered.

The man looked Roland up and down before saying, "Are you kidding? I could take you with one arm tied behind my back." He then turned away, as if he expected the engagement to end there.

He was far from correct.

"Oh, is that so," Roland said, egging the man on.

The American looked up and nonchalantly said, "Yeah."

Roland only smiled.


Within a few minutes, one of the waiters was able to successfully tie a hand to a back. Roland threw his hat to the waiter for him to hold on to. He didn't give him his eyeglasses, though. Roland knew he wouldn't be needing them.

"Um, I meant my hand."

Roland smirked as he turned back to face his adversary. He could probably break out of the waiter's knot pinning his left hand to his back. But Roland had promised to fight one-armed, and he wasn't going to dishonor himself by breaking out of both the knot and the promise.

Besides, Roland knew he could win this fight anyway. It was only his left hand that was tied down. Roland was right-handed.

The man put up both of his arms in a typical fighting stance.

Roland simply decided to punch him.

POW!

With the speed of a viper, Roland sends his right fist forward, slamming it square in the jaw of the tourist. The man is stunned, reeling backward into the arms of his tourist friends. They catch him and keep him on his feet, but that doesn't help the severe pain shooting through the man's lower jaw.

To his credit, the man recovered, lunging forward at Roland in a rage. But, his form is sloppy. The American shoots both of his hands forward in a flurry of swinging punches. But none can connect with the hunter. Roland simply bobs and weaves through each strike. Not one can so much as glance against him.

Barely a second later, Roland finds an opening.

POP!

The man stumbles back again, falling onto a nearby table, scattering various cups and shot glasses. He quickly gets back up, his rage only increasing and lunges again.

BOP!

The tourist doesn't even get the chance to throw a single punch before Roland can land another jab into his opponent's face. The punch wasn't as powerful as the first two, the American only taking a step back, but it still hurt, and it kept the tourist in the perfect place for Roland to launch his next attack.

While the man is dazed, Roland suddenly lunges forward and, with his single hand, grabs the tourist by the nose. Roland then runs forward, pulling the American forward, before he suddenly stops and lets go.

The tourist is sent careening forward, flying face-first into one of the hard, wooden umbrellas. The man then slides down, falling against the table. More glasses are thrown to the floor, as well as the food of an old couple's lunch.

Roland turns and begins casually walking away, sensing victory. The fight wasn't over yet, though, for the man, determined to win back his dignity, gets up and charges at Roland's turned back.

Big mistake.

CRACK!

Sensing the oncoming attack, Roland, remaining calm and resolute, simply and suddenly throws back his elbow. The stiff arm slams into the tourist's face, hitting him square in the nose. A loud crack can be heard, and blood - more blood, that is - begins to gush from the American's now broken nose. At the same time, the tourist is sent flying backward. He once more sails right into the old couple's table, only this time with the force to flip it entirely. The man lands hard onto the ground, but the table lands even harder, and it lands right on top of him.

The American briefly tries to get up once more, but his body has had enough, and the tourist slumps against the ground, defeated.

The onlooking customers - even the old couple whose food had just been ruined - cheer for the obnoxious tourist's defeat as Roland is given back his hat by the waiter who then proceeds to untie his left hand. The tourist's friends, meanwhile, rushed forward, throwing the table off of him and kneeling by his side. Roland doesn't bother with them, though. He knows that they won't be causing much trouble. Not with him around.

Once the energy has died down and the customers return to their meals - some with new ones - Roland sits back down beside Ajay and takes a swig of beer.

"I'm sorry," he said politely, "you were saying?"

Ajay glances back at the gang of tourists, who were attempting to flee the scene. Looking back, he said, "You broke that man's jaw for no other reason than your own boredom." Ajay leaned forward. "Tell the truth, Roland. Aren't you even interested in this expedition's quarry?"

Roland, who had been cleaning his hand of the tourist's blood with a cloth, looked over at his old friend and gave him a serious look. "Ajay," he said firmly, "Go up to my ranch, take a look around the trophy room, and tell me what kind of quarry you think could possibly be of any interest to me."

Roland expected this to finally deter his old friend. Instead, however, much to his surprise, Ajay just smiled.


Thorne Mobile Field Systems, San Diego, California

In a large warehouse at the far end of the Industrial Park, the air was thick with the smell of fresh paint and engine oil. Sparks of acetylene torches flew as a collection of workmen busily made modifications on several vehicles. One such vehicle was a Mercedes Benz all-activity vehicle (AAV) with a dark-green camo paint job. The hood of the AAV was opened up, the V-6 engine getting pulled out while a smaller engine was installed in its place.

The AAV was far from the largest vehicle, though. That title belonged to a pair of long RV trailers located to one side of the warehouse. The two trailers were connected by an accordion-like passageway, similar to those on subway cars, allowing one to be pulled by the other. The trailers had a similar paint job as the AAV, and about half a dozen men worked up and down along the chassis. One man was kneeling on the roof, sending a stream of sparks shooting out from his tools. A few other men were working inside, preparing the specialized trailers for use. Chairs and seats were scattered on the ground nearby.

The warehouse as a whole was a bustle of activity, men scrambling back and forth to meet a deadline that had suddenly been moved a lot closer than anticipated. This was entirely Malcolm's fault, though he didn't care. His girlfriend was on an island full of deadly dinosaurs alone. He didn't care what Hammond said. He didn't care what she would say when he found her. Malcolm was going to get her out of there.

Sarah Harding, Malcolm's romantic partner, was an animal behaviorist, and a famous one at that. She was renowned for her solitary and, as many (including Malcolm) said, reckless adventures in the wilds of Africa, studying the large predators that lived there. She always got very close to the lions and hyenas that lived there. Dangerously close. Once, when Sarah's Land Rover had broken down, she had walked twenty miles across the savannah all by herself, driving away lions by shouting and throwing rocks at them.

However, her field didn't just include living animals. It also included dinosaurs as well. She was particularly interested in studying the behavior of predatory dinosaurs. With the current situation, this did little to ease Malcolm's mind.

An especially ironic twist, Sarah Harding was the daughter of Doctor Gerry Harding, who had worked at Jurassic Park as the veterinarian. But Sarah Harding had not been on the island when the dinosaurs broke out (unlike her father and half-sister, though they both, fortunately, had escaped the island alive). In fact, all Sarah had heard of the incident was mere rumors. Rumors, that is, until she had flown to Costa Rica and met Malcolm.

A few months after the incident, while Malcolm had been resting in a hospital in San Jose, he had suddenly been visited by the woman. This had been before Malcolm decided to speak openly about the park, so when Sarah had begun questioning him, he had initially been reserved about the whole thing. But, eventually, she had gotten him to open up. She was the first person he had told about the accident, the first person he had shared his stories with.

But even after Malcolm had spilled the beans, she had stayed. Malcolm didn't know why. He had told her pretty much everything he knew. But Sarah had stayed nonetheless. She had supported his idea to share the story with the public when the idea eventually came around to him. When Malcolm had been released from the hospital and allowed to return to the United States, he had asked Sarah out on a date. A celebratory date, one toasting Malcolm's return to America, but a date that finally began their romantic relationship.

They had mostly stayed with each other ever since. She had to go off to Africa now and then, of course. Malcolm had to go make lectures at various universities or speak at interviews. But when Ludlow and the other lawyers had been tearing his reputation to shreds, she had stayed. She even offered to support him, speaking out about the disaster alongside him. It was Malcolm that had prevented that. He didn't want Ludlow coming after her too.

Now, though, it seemed like it was time for Sarah to go off on another one of her adventures, only this time it wasn't to the African savannah. No, this time it just had to go to the absolute worst possible place on the entire planet. To the one place on Earth with animals that she knew were dangerous. Animals she knew could tear a lion to shreds. Despite everything she knew, and everything Malcolm had told her about, Sarah had decided to run off to an island of dinosaurs, alone.

And worst of all, she wasn't answering her damn phone.

"Damn it!" Malcolm cursed, furiously slamming a button on the satellite phone in his hand. "Why doesn't Sarah answer her satellite phone?!"

"Could be anything," a voice replied from behind him. "Solar flares, a satellite out of synch. It's not exactly a local call."

Malcolm stopped, turning around to face the owner of the voice. That happened to be Eddie Carr, a man in his forties and one of those Hammond hired onto his expedition to Isla Sorna. He had a large nose and was mostly bald, except for black hair that clung to the sides and back of his head. A blue bag was hanging from his side, its strap wrapped around his neck. Eddie had been following Malcolm, complaining about the rushed schedule, when he had cursed about the satellite phone.

Now, Malcolm looked at the man and said, "Let me talk to your communications designer."

"You are talking to him," Eddie said bluntly.

"Well, how do you get this thing working?" Malcolm asked, assuming (or more like hoping) that there was something wrong with the phone.

"It works fine," Eddie assured. "Either something's interfering with the connection or she's turned it off."

"Does she know how to use it?" Malcolm asked as he resumed walking through the warehouse, passing by one of the trailers.

"You kidding?" Eddie asked, quickly following him. "She - I need half air on these tires -" Eddie briefly paused to shout at a pair of workers. "She's faxed me refinements on half the plans for this stuff," he continued.

Malcolm, however, wasn't really listening. He was still meddling with the phone, trying to force it to work. Eventually, Malcolm got frustrated, and lightly banged the satellite phone on the hood of the nearby trailer, hoping that would somehow magically get it to work.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Eddie exclaimed, rushing forward to interrupt Malcolm's abuse of the phone. "Don't do that!" he said. "You have to baby it. Love it."

"I'll love it when it works," Malcolm said bitterly.

"It'll work when you love it," Eddie countered. "Here, let me see it," he offered.

Malcolm handed over the satellite phone, but the two were suddenly interrupted by the loud roar of an engine. Malcolm and Eddie looked over at the open door of the garage, which wasn't very far from where they stood, in which they saw a battered white van reversed into the warehouse before coming to a stop.

Within moments of the van coming to a stop, the driver-side door swung open and a man stepped out. "It's four-to-three Mets in the sixth, for anyone who's got money on it." The man turned around, revealing himself to be an American in his late twenties, wearing a navy-blue shirt, black pants, and a newsboy cap atop his head.

The man gave Eddie an annoyed look and said sarcastically, "Thanks for the two-minute warning, Eddie. Where the hell is the fire?"

"Standing right next to me," Eddie responded. Malcolm gave him a look, but Eddie continued before he could say anything. "Nick van Owen, this is Ian Malcolm," Eddie introduced. "Nick's our field photographer. Doctor Malcolm's our… uh, nemesis."

"Sorry, I already have one," Malcolm said, thinking angrily of the man who started this whole mess. "What's your background?" Malcolm then said to the photographer, extending his hand. "Wildlife photography?"

Nick van Owen had walked around to the back of the van, opening up the back doors. He only paused briefly to give Malcolm's hand a shake and say, "Wildlife, combat, you name it." Nick began to unload the van, carrying out silver briefcases that Malcolm assumed had cameras in them. "When I was with Nightline I was in Rwanda, Chechnya, all over Bosnia," Nick continued, pausing briefly to say "Thanks" as a worker took the briefcases. Walking back to the van, Nick then said, "I do some volunteer work for Greenpeace once in a while."

Eddie was fiddling with the phone, so Malcolm decided to engage in some small talk. "What drew you there?" he asked.

Nick looked at Malcolm and gave him a sly smile. "Women." He grabbed another pair of briefcases. "About eighty percent female in Greenpeace."

"Very noble," Malcolm remarked dryly.

"Ah, noble was last year," Nick said with a shrug, grabbing a large duffel bag from the bag. He looped the strap around his neck and threw the bag around his shoulder. "This year I'm getting paid," he continued. "Hammond's check cleared, or I wouldn't be going on this wild goose chase." Nick then walked away, taking the bag off his back and handing it over to another worker.

As he walked back, Malcolm said, "Uh, where you're going is the only place in the world where the geese chase you."

Nick simply gave Malcolm a look, one that clearly showed that he was unconvinced. "Uh-huh," he said dryly. Nick then leaned back into the van to withdraw more of his things. However, this time Nick came out with a couple of tools in each hand. In one were a pry bar and a box of various tools, while in the other was a wire cutter and - to his surprise - a small ax.

"We're only going to find Sarah," Malcolm pointed out, nodding at the tools, "then we leave immediately. You won't need all that."

"Oh, I think I might," Nick van Owen retorted as he walked away.

Suddenly, a loud metallic CLANG echoes throughout the warehouse, diverting the attention of everyone in it. The commotion was from a large metal cage, which seemed to have fallen from above, crashing into the floor below. Near it was a set of scaffolding, and from near the top, a worker waved down at the three of them.

"Sorry, Eddie!" the worker hollered. "Specs say it can't deform at twelve thousand PSI! We had to test it!"

Nick simply shrugged and walked off, bringing his tools with him. Eddie, however, put the satellite phone safely in his bag and walked over to the metal cage. Leaned down, examining it carefully. Malcolm walked up beside him, giving it a look over himself.

The cage was large and rectangular, with inch-thick titanium alloy bars crisscrossing along the small fence that traced the perimeter of the cage's stainless steel mesh floor. Four more bars also stood vertically up at each corner, supporting a wire mesh roof. The cage as a whole was quite large. The vertical bars stood up about eight feet high, and the floor seemed to be ten feet long and six feet wide. It could easily fit all five members of the expedition, and probably a few people more.

"What the hell is that?" Malcolm asked.

Eddie stood up and looked at him. "It's a high hide," he replied. He then pointed up at the ceiling. "You go up and you hide. High."

"I get how it works," Malcolm said, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

Eddie sighed and continued, "This cage goes on top of a fifteen-foot titanium scaffold. It keeps the researchers out of harm's way."

"Fifteen feet?" Malcolm questioned, glancing up at the ceiling, which seemed to be twenty to thirty feet above them. Once more, images of the Tyrannosaur entered his mind, only this time it was from before the bite when the Rex had stepped out between the two cars on that fateful night.

"That actually seems to put them at a very convenient biting height," Malcolm commented.

Eddie didn't seem to hear him, or if he did he was too busy to respond. A collection of workers began milling around the cage, scrutinizing it and talking amongst themselves.

"This aluminum is too shiny," Eddie said, twisting his head to better examine the cage. "We should paint it matte black." Eddie then turned to one of the workers standing behind him. "And Bobby, I said I wanted camera mounts in the corners of the cage too, not just on the scaffolding."

Malcolm glanced at the engineer. "More cameras?" he asked.

Eddie looked back at him and nodded. "Oh yeah." He then stood up straight and gestured towards a tall scaffold that was nearby. On it was a group of workmen, attaching long, dangling wires down to four strategically placed camera mounts.

"The remote heads are automatic pivoters," Eddie explained. "They have heat sensors that are active twenty-four hours a day. Here." Eddie suddenly began to walk towards the scaffolding, gesturing for Malcolm to follow. Malcolm complied, following the engineer until they reached a table near the base of the scaffolding.

On the table was a laptop computer. Eddie clicked away at the computer for a few moments before stepping back. At the same time, Malcolm heard something begin to whir. Looking up, Malcolm saw that one of the cameras already installed on the high hide's scaffolding had suddenly come to life. It jolted before suddenly looking down at him, fixating on Malcolm and Eddie.

"Look here," Eddie said. He gestured towards the computer, and on the monitor, Malcolm could see images of themselves, displayed in infrared. "The data gets multiplexed and we'll uplink it back to San Diego at the end of every day." Eddie smiled. "It's a great system," he said with pride, "just a little buggy at the moment."

"That's so cool!" The comment hadn't come from Malcolm, nor any of the nearby workers. The voice came from behind them, and it sounded young. Also, to Malcolm, it sounded familiar. They turned around to find two kids standing before them. One was a young boy at about eleven years old, wearing a white, button-down shirt and horn-rimmed glasses. The girl was thirteen years and a few months old, wearing a fluffy red jacket over an orange shirt. They were both African Americans, and while they were probably strangers to Eddie, Malcolm recognized them instantly.

The boy was a friend. The girl… was Malcolm's daughter.

"Hi, dad!" the girl greeted, giving a friendly wave.

"Kelly!" Malcolm said, swooping down to pull his daughter into a hug. They embraced for a moment or two before Kelly pulled away.

Kelly Malcolm was the daughter of one of Malcolm's ex-wives. Malcolm had two other kids, but they lived with their mother. Kelly's mother, however, had abandoned her and ran away to France. Malcolm didn't complain though. He loved kids, and it was great to finally have one under his custody. Initially, Malcolm had to take care of Kelly by himself, but Sarah had volunteered to help out, allowing Kelly to stay with her if she ever needed to. Of course, both of them often had to leave for various reasons, leaving Kelly by herself.

This was a situation, however, where Malcolm was in town but unable to pick Kelly up from school and Sarah was, well, unavailable, Kelly was left by herself. Fortunately, Kelly had proven herself to be a very mature and independent young woman. She was an adept cook, and she was even able to take a cab by herself, as long as she had money, of course. But, it was also good to have friends to help out. Fortunately, Kelly happened to have one.

R.B. Benton, or Arby, happened to be one of them, and the only one Malcolm has actually met before. Arby went to the same school with Kelly, and they were even in seventh grade together, sharing the same classes. Of course, Kelly was thirteen, two years older than Arby. However, Arby was supposedly a computer genius with the intelligence to move up two whole grades. Arby was the only friend Malcolm has ever seen Kelly hang around, though he was sure she had more he's just never met before.

"Hello, Doctor Malcolm," Arby greeted.

"Hello, Arby," Malcolm replied, giving a little nod. However, he quickly returned his attention to his daughter. He had called for her to meet him here so he could tell her about the trip (sparing a few details, of course). However, she was supposed to have been here five to ten minutes ago.

Kneeling to meet his daughter at eye level, Malcolm asked, "What took you so long?"

"Sor-ee," Kelly said innocently. "I couldn't catch a cab, so I decided to have Arby and his mom pick me up." She nodded over at the young boy.

"Is your mom okay with waiting a little bit?" Malcolm asked, looking over at Arby.

Arby was fortunate to live with two, good and reliable parents. They were also quite affluent as well, working as doctors in San Diego. Malcolm hadn't met Arby's dad, but he had met his mom before. She was a gynecologist, and she was a pretty kind lady.

Arby nodded and said, "She said we could take our time."

"Good," Malcolm said, turning back to Kelly, "because I have to talk to you."

At Malcolm's words, Kelly's face suddenly fell into suspicion. Kelly knew Malcolm well, and she was able to read his face. In a quiet voice, Kelly guessed, "You're going away… again."

Malcolm sighed. This was not going to be a fun conversation.


"I don't even know this woman," Kelly complained, looking down at a slip of paper as she spun around in her swivel chair.

Malcolm had needed to take Kelly somewhere alone so he could talk to her. Fortunately, Eddie offered his office to them, which was a second floor overlooking the warehouse, and that was where they had gone. Now Kelly was slumped in a chair in Eddie's office, with Malcolm sitting on a desk in front of her. The desks around them were covered in an assortment of papers and a couple of computers. There were also a few glass windows, outside of which Malcolm could see the vehicles and the personnel working on them.

"What do you mean? It's Karen. You've known her for, like, ten years," Malcolm pointed out. Karen was the name of a woman who Kelly's mother had hired to take care of Kelly whenever she was out of town. Malcolm came into possession over the girl, it was simpler to keep Karen instead of trying to find a new babysitter. Karen was also quite good at the role.

However, Kelly wasn't so fond of the lady. "She doesn't even have a Sega!" she said in disgust. "She's such a troglodyte."

"That's cruel," Malcolm observed. "But good vocabulary," he added, trying not to seem too stern himself.

Kelly looked up at him. "Why can't I stay with Sarah?" she asked pleadingly.

Malcolm sighed. "She's, um… out of town," he said awkwardly. "But Karen is fantastic. She'll take you to the museum, to the movies; she even said she'd take you horseback riding! You're going to have a fantastic time."

"Stop saying fantastic," Kelly said with agitation. "Where are you going, anyway?"

"Uh… away."

Kelly gave him an annoyed look.

"Look, I can't tell you," Malcolm said. "But it will only be a few days, and I wouldn't go if it wasn't a life -" Malcolm stopped himself, deciding it was a bad idea to mention the severe danger of the situation. "- if it wasn't extremely important."

Kelly wasn't buying it. "I'm your daughter all the time, you know," she said sharply. "You can't just abandon me whenever opportunity knocks."

"Gee, that hurts," Malcolm said. "Did your mother tell you to say that?"

The conversation was suddenly interrupted when Eddie's voice suddenly boomed over the loudspeakers. "Doctor Malcolm? Downstairs, please." Malcolm glanced irritably up at the speakers. Didn't he know he had important business to take care of?

"I thought you appreciated the fact that I treat you like an adult," Malcolm continued, returning focus to his daughter. "Do you want to be patronized and condescended to like other kids?"

"No, but I want you to crack on me a little bit!" Kelly retorted. "You know, ground me or something. Send me to my room. You never do any of that!"

"Well, why would I?" Malcolm said. "That stuff won't work on you. It never has." He sighed and kneeled down before his daughter, looking up into her face. "Kelly, you're your own person," Malcolm said, "you always have been. You don't need a parent, you just need someone to pay the rent until you take over the world. You amaze me. Seriously, you're my inspiration."

"Doctor Malcolm!"

Malcolm sighed with exasperation as the moment was ruined by the loud and echoing voice of Eddie Carr.

Before he could continue, Kelly suggested, "I could come with you. I could be your research assistant like I was in Austin."

Malcolm sighed and shook his head. "Trust me, this is nothing like Austin."

Kelly responded with a sigh of her own, turning away to look out of the window. Then, under her breath, Malcolm heard her mutter, "You like to have kids, you just don't want to be with them, do you?"

Malcolm shot up and, without even thinking, retorted, "Hey, I'm not the one who dumped you here and split for Paris, okay? So don't take it out on me."

Malcolm immediately regretted the words. He winced when he saw Kelly look down, hurt written on her face. He sighed and was about to apologize when Eddie's voice called over the loudspeakers once again.

"Doctor Malcolm, downstairs."

Malcolm sighed again and began to head for the door. He stopped right as he got to it, feeling uncomfortable leaving Kelly on such a bitter note.

Turning around, he said, "Hey, Kelly, I'm sorry." He turned around again, but paused, looking back to add, "Look, if you want some good parental advice? Don't listen to me."

Malcolm then turned away from his daughter and left the room.


"Can't you give me a little time to talk to my daughter?" Malcolm asked exasperatedly as he approached Eddie.

Eddie was standing near the high hide, which was covered in workers. Nick van Owen was there too, watching passively as the workers scaled the metal cage. Arby was gone, though Malcolm just assumed that Eddie left him with another worker. But they weren't the only ones there. Standing with them was a man that Malcolm failed to recognize, but guessed that he was one of those in charge. He was, after all, shouting a barrage of order to every person in sight.

"Come on! Come on! We've got to be finished in three hours! No, no, no! You can't place that strut laterally, Henry! You've got to place it crosswise, for strength! Just look at the damn plans. That's what they're there for!"

His voice was gruff and booming, echoing across the warehouse as if he were a loudspeaker himself. The man himself was grey-haired and barrel-chested, looking as though he was in his mid-fifties. He also looked like he was a retired prizefighter, with only his wire-framed glasses suggesting otherwise.

"Sorry, Ian," Eddie said, "but I figured you would want to meet the guy in charge of this whole thing." Eddie gestured to the large man. "This is Doctor Jack Thorne. You know, as in Thorne Mobile Systems."

"I figured," Malcolm said sarcastically. Malcolm had guessed who the man was, though he had been surprised by the former professor's size and frame.

"Doc, this is Ian Malcolm," Eddie continued.

Thorne turned his attention to Malcolm and gave him a curt nod. "The chaotician?" he guessed, looking Malcolm up and down.

"You familiar with it? Chaos Theory?" Malcolm asked, noting that Thorne hadn't referred to him as a mathematician as most people did.

"I've heard of it," Thorne said distastefully, "but I've never really cared much for theories," he spat out the word as if it were bile.

"What's wrong with theories?" Malcolm asked curiously.

Thorne initially opened his mouth the reply, but then shook his head. "Sorry, but I don't have the time to explain," he said. Thorne then gave Malcolm an agitated look. "I might have if you hadn't shaved three days off my deadline."

"Well I'm sorry," Malcolm replied, "but this is kind of important."

"And my work isn't?" Thorne retorted. "You can't just turn three days into three hours and expect everything to be ready! None of this stuff is field-tested and we're not even fully supplied!"

"I already tried explaining this to him," Eddie muttered.

Malcolm ignored him and said, "I'm trying to get Sarah back alive. That requires speed, not preparation."

"I get that," Thorne said, "but if what Hammond says is true, then we need to make sure everything is in top condition. That doesn't happen at the snap of your fingers. It takes time."

"What Hammond says is true," Malcolm said, "which is exactly why we need to leave now."

"Well, don't come crying to me when there's a lot of useful equipment we end up leaving behind," Thorne warned.

Malcolm opened his mouth to make a retort but was cut off by the sudden interruption from Nick van Owen. "To be fair," Nick said, "I doubt we'll need much of this stuff. We're only going to get Sarah, and Hammond has probably just gone insane. Rich, but insane."

"He's been insane for the past decade," Malcolm said, "but I can guarantee he is not insane about what's on that island."

"And how do we know you're not insane?" Nick asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Malcolm sighed. "Trust me," he said, "I wish I was."

Nick only rolled his eyes. Changing the subject, he asked, "What is with the big trailer anyway? I've never seen anything like it."

He pointed at the pair of large trailers. Malcolm hadn't really noticed them. He had been too busy trying to get a hold of Sarah. But now that attention had been brought to them, Malcolm could see they weren't like the average RV trailers. They were both sleek and enormous, with the lead trailer being close to the size of a bus. The back trailer was slightly smaller, but still quite large in its own right.

"Tell 'em about it," Thorne said, looking at Eddie.

Eddie nodded and said, "That's the Fleetwood Challenger RV Mobile Laboratory." He began to walk towards the trailers, gesturing for everyone to follow. "We just call it the 'Challenger' for short," he said. "I helped design it myself. It's kind of a research lab on wheels." Eddie walked up to the larger trailer, he turned back to face the group. "This is the lead trailer," he continued. "It's almost like a mini house. It has a kitchen, dining space, bathroom, and our sleeping quarters."

Malcolm observed the trailer. It was large, sure, but it still seemed a little small to have all of those features Eddie had just described. "Are you sure?" Malcolm asked. "Seems like it's a tight squeeze."

"Sure, maybe right now," Eddie admitted, "but it has a special feature." Eddie raised a hand and tapped gently on the hull of the trailer. At the same time, he said, "While parked, we can slide these walls outwards. This increases the inside dimensions of the trailer and gives us plenty of space for our bunks."

"Does the back one have this too?" Malcolm queried.

"No," Eddie shook his head. "That trailer has all of the scientific and laboratory equipment. Microscopes, computers, the whole shebang."

"Communications?" Malcolm asked.

"That stuff is in the first trailer," Eddie said. "We've got a GPS and one of the best communications arrays we could build."

"And how good is that?" Malcolm asked sarcastically, looking at Eddie doubtfully. "Is it good enough to call Sarah?"

"We're literally hundreds of miles from Isla Sorna," Eddie said, rolling his eyes. "It's not that good."

"We also have a station that lets us link up with remote frequency inputs," Thorne mentioned. "It'll help us communicate with the boat. We also have a standard radio along with the satellite phones."

"Any tools?" Nick suddenly asked, "or do I have to bring them all?"

"We have a utility box full of stuff," Eddie said. "It even has a fifty-foot nylon rope." Eddie then added, "I'm pretty sure we have all the tools we'll need in there, but I guess bringing yours wouldn't hurt."

"Oh, I'm bringing my tools," Nick said defiantly.

"You don't look like a mechanic," Thorne observed.

"You don't look like a college professor," Nick retorted.

Thorne opened his mouth to make a rebuttal but was suddenly interrupted by a white-hot crack of electricity coming from the hood of the trailer. Two men who had been leaning into the hood suddenly jumped back with a yelp, smoke rising before them. As soon as the incident occurred, Thorne leaped into action, whirling around and running towards the workmen.

"What the hell are you doing?" Thorne yelled. "Ground it! You've got to ground it before you do anything! We've got some serious voltage here! You're gonna get fried if you're not careful!" The two men nodded nervously before quickly getting back to work. Thorne turned back towards the group, shaking his head in exasperation.

"What the hell was that?" Malcolm asked.

Thorne sighed. "That's the IUD system," he said. "It's some serious defense."

"IUD?" Malcolm questioned.

"Internal Ursine Deterrent," Thorne explained, "though it's going to be used for far larger animals, assuming we actually have to use it."

"And if those animals are even real," Nick muttered.

"It's actually a system I developed a few years back," Thorne continued. "I designed it for park rangers in Yellowstone, where bears break into trailers. Flip a switch, and ten thousand volts of electricity are running across the outer skin of the trailer."

A sly smile spread across Thorne's face. "You can bet your ass that it will take the fight out of even the biggest of bears." Thorne's face then suddenly fell, the man sighing as he glanced back at the workmen. "But it will also blow these guys clear of the trailers. And then I have to pay for their stupidity."

"Ten thousand volts," Malcolm muttered to himself, thinking it over. He remembered that the fences at Jurassic Park had been charged with the same amount of electricity. Though the dinosaurs eventually broke out, it wasn't until after the power had gone out, when the fences were uncharged and harmless. Isla Sorna may not have any fences, but it seemed Thorne had figured out a way to bring their own. "I like the sound of that," he eventually said.

However, Thorne then looked at Malcolm and said, "Unfortunately, I can't promise it will be ready by the time we leave. We were originally going to have IUDs on the AAVs as well as the trailers, but we might not even have the time to get one onto the trailers."

"Well, try your best," Malcolm said. "If you need to, forget about putting them onto the car and just focus them on the trailers."

"Cars," Eddie corrected, jumping back into the conversation. "We've been working on three M-Class Mercedes Benz's for the expedition. AAVs Santana, Fontana, and Montana."

"Nice rhyming," Nick quipped.

"We might have to leave one of them behind," Thorne said grimly, giving Malcolm an annoyed glare. "With everything we have to do and in such little time, work on the Montana has fallen behind. It might not be ready by the time we go."

"Then leave it," Malcolm said dismissively. "Our charter leaves in three hours. If it isn't ready, leave it behind."

"That might be a lot more than just one car," Thorne warned.

"Then it's a good thing that we won't be staying very long," Malcolm replied. Changing the subject, he then asked, "Now, what about weapons? Who's in charge of security?"

Suddenly, Eddie extended a hand out towards Malcolm. "Hi," he said casually as if they were just meeting.

Malcolm looked at him with disbelief. After all, Eddie had previously said that he was the communications designer. How could he be the security officer too? This thought led Malcolm to say, "You're kidding."

"Kidding?" Eddie said obliviously.

"He's my assistant," Thorne said with a shrug. "He's also got some familiarity with guns." Thorne looked over at Eddie and ordered, "Go get the Lindstradt."

Eddie nodded and rushed off.


While Malcolm, Thorne, Nick, and Eddie had been talking about the trailers, they had been unaware that they were being watched. Kelly stood nearby, peeking out from behind a group of workmen working on a car. She looked intently at the group, but specifically on her father.

She knew Malcolm was hiding something. He had to be! It wasn't the first time he had told her about a trip he was going on, nor was it the first time he had refused her from coming. But he had never been so… secretive about it. Malcolm would always tell her where he was going. He never blatantly kept it from her.

What's more, what was with all the equipment? Her dad never needed anything close to what Kelly was seeing in the warehouse. A bus-sized trailer? A giant tree stand? Malcolm usually left to lecture at some university, or research something in a laboratory or at a zoo. He never needed anything close to what was in here. So what was it all for?

Was Malcolm going on a sort of safari? No, it couldn't be. Kelly knew her dad never had a taste for the wilderness. But, even if he did, where was Sarah? Surely, if Malcolm was going on some sort of safari adventure, Sarah would be here too. But Sarah was out of town, according to Malcolm. Besides, Sarah wasn't the type to bring so much equipment.

So, what was Malcolm hiding? What is going on?

Kelly had no idea as to what those answers might be. But, she had an idea of where to get them from.

"Uh, are you sure about this?"

The question came from Arby, who was standing right beside her. Kelly looked over at him and said, "Of course. What's the harm?"

"They aren't exactly far away from the trailer," Arby observed. "What if they catch us?"

Kelly sighed. She had planned to sneak into the trailers and snoop around, hoping to find something that might clue her in to what was going on. She had told Arby her plan and asked him to join her. After all, Kelly was more likely to find answers if two people were looking for them instead of one. However, Arby never liked the idea of breaking rules. He hated getting in trouble. So, he was quite reluctant to follow through with this idea.

"They might scold us, or they might not," Kelly replied. "As long as we aren't messing with anything important, we shouldn't get into trouble."

"But we are going to mess with important stuff," Arby pointed out.

"No," Kelly retorted. "We won't be touching anything electrical. We'll just be looking around. Also," she added, "Doctor Malcolm is my dad, and he isn't very harsh with his punishments." He doesn't really even punish me, she thought to herself. Malcolm had only ever given her a slight warning at most. Never something like grounding her. That wasn't to say that Kelly was in love with the idea of being grounded, but she felt that Malcolm was far too soft on her. He coddled her and cosseted her. He treated her like a queen when Kelly just wanted to be treated like a daughter.

But even though Malcolm treated her like royalty, he never actually seemed to spend time with her. Malcolm was always going on trips here and there. He was always going away, leaving her either with Sarah (which she didn't mind) or Karen (which she did mind). More often than not, since Sarah also tended to go on trips, it was the latter. But even when Malcolm did bring Kelly along, or when he was at home, he was always too busy. He always seemed to have work to do. He had time for lectures, but very little time for the daughter he had worked so hard to have under his possession.

"Besides," Kelly continued, "they're too busy talking to pay any attention to us. We'll be fine."

Arby sighed and doubtfully said, "If you say so."

At that moment, the man named Eddie returned to the group of adults, carrying what looked to be a large, black briefcase. He directed Malcolm and the others away from the trailers, over to a table nearby. Kelly smiled, seeing her chance.

"Let's go," she said. Before Arby could protest, Kelly quickly rushed over to the trailer, sneaking past the distracted adults. Arby followed her, though not as stealthily. Even so, the adults remained unaware of them, and both Kelly and Arby made it to the trailer unseen. They made their way to the door of the smaller trailer and opened it, creeping into the trailer before carefully closing it behind them. Once inside, Kelly and Arby turned around and surveyed the room before them.

It seemed they had entered some kind of scientific laboratory. There was a vast array of electronic equipment, which was divided into sections, probably for certain specialized functions. The largest section, which was the main area of the trailer, seemed to function as a biology lab. There was an assortment of dissecting pans, specimen trays, and various microscopes that were hooked up to video monitors. Then there were far more complicated biological equipment, such as spectrometers, various biochemistry equipment, and a series of automated sample analyzers. Kelly was only able to recognize such equipment thanks to the few research trips she had taken with her father, such as that one to Austin. Also, besides the sample analyzers, was a section full of expensive computer equipment, with a bank of processors and a small communications section. All of this equipment seemed to have been miniaturized, with much of the equipment being built into tables that slide into the walls and with bolts to hold them down.

Of course, all of this equipment was practically a gold mine to Arby. As soon as he took a glance around the trailer, his face lit up and his eyes sparkled. "Wow…" he said in awe, all previous hesitation having mysteriously vanished. "This is so cool."

Kelly ignored him, looking around the trailer with a more inquisitive eye. Thanks to the few times Kelly had been in a laboratory, she was aware of what was usually in one. In a general science lab, there was equipment for a wide range of scientific studies, such as geology, botany, and chemistry. This lab, however, lacked any sort of equipment from all three of those fields. There were no provisions for many of the things that a field team would typically study. The entire laboratory seemed to be focused specifically on biology and computers and nothing else.

What exactly are they going to study? Kelly wondered.

As Arby gawked at the technology, Kelly began to walk around the trailers, hoping to spot something promising. She passed through the accordion-like passageway between the two cars of the trailer, coming out into an area that seemed to be the living area. It was quite homey too, with a kitchen area, a bathroom, and even a walk-in shower. There were four beds - two at either side - as well as storage compartments above and below them. There was a fifth bed, with its own storage compartments, upfront against a wall that separated the living area from the front window and driver's seat. There were side windows too, with metal bars going horizontally across them. Kelly had noticed them from outside, and she remembered that the cars had bars over their windows as well. These vehicles weren't just built for mobility, they were built for strength. In fact, that seemed to be the primary focus of the design, even more than for research capabilities.

But why?

Looking to her left, Kelly suddenly spotted something that interested her greatly. On a bare spot on the wall, near a radio set and other communication equipment, hung a large map. Kelly stepped up to the map, gazing at it with curiosity. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the upper-left corner of the map, in which a landmass was presented. It was clearly on the mainland, for symbols were scattered across it, representing cities and roads. Kelly spotted a label near the landmass and was surprised to find that it read: COSTA RICA.

Costa Rica? Kelly thought. All of this equipment was for an expedition to Costa Rica? But why there? Sure it was a tropical country with plenty of animals to explore, but it didn't exactly require a trailer like the one she stood in. But what's more, why would her father keep this a secret from her?

But, of course, the map didn't seem to be of Costa Rica. It only represented a small portion of the country, with only the western corner being visible on the map. The map was focused on something else. On something west of Costa Rica, in the pacific ocean. Kelly shifted her focus closer to the center of the map. But before she could reach it, Kelly froze, her eyes widening as she stopped cold. Her eyes had caught on something else. On an island about eighty miles west of Costa Rica. A small island shaped like an upside-down raindrop.

An island that was labeled: Isla Nublar.

Kelly was well aware of her father's crusade against InGen. It was the reason for many of his trips, at least until those lawyers had made him out to be insane to the general public. Kelly had seen him on television in interviews and on the news. It was for this reason that he had told her stories about his time on that island. About the things, he had seen. About InGen. About the dinosaurs. About all of it. Kelly had, of course, been skeptical, but Sarah had told her it was all true. Kelly had never seen a real-life dinosaur or any evidence of such, but if Sarah said they were real, then she could believe her.

And with Isla Nublar on the map, things began to seem far clearer to Kelly. The equipment in the mobile lab was to study dinosaurs. The bars on the windows were to protect against dinosaurs. The reason why her father had refused to inform Kelly about the details of his trip was because of the dinosaurs. Malcolm was going on a trip to an island of dinosaurs.

But then a thought wandered into Kelly's mind, which put holes in her theory. Malcolm had made it clear that, after the accident, the island had been bombed by the American and Costa Rican government. Jurassic Park had been destroyed and the dinosaurs had been killed. So, if the dinosaurs were dead, why go back?

Unless…

While Nublar was on the map, it didn't seem to be its focus. It was up and to the right of the center. At the center was an island chain, arranged in a crescent shape, made of five islands. Each island had a small label near it:

Isla Matanceros, Isla Muerta, Isla Sorna, Isla Tacaño, and Isla Pena.

Then, near the island chain, was the label: LAS CINCO MUERTES.

Was this the destination of her father's expedition? Was this where Malcolm was going? Was there, on at least one of those islands, living, breathing dinosaurs?

Kelly thought carefully about the situation. She had never been super interested in dinosaurs, but she thought they were pretty cool. Of course, Malcolm's stories about them hadn't been in a very positive light. But then Kelly thought about all the times she had spent time with her father, and how the number of those times was quite small. Especially considering how much he praised her. Even during those times, Kelly was with her father, whether it be at home or on a trip, Malcolm had rarely attempted to be with her. He was always either busy or tired from being busy. He rarely had time for her. Ironically, a part of that time was spent explaining that he was going away on another trip, and why Kelly wasn't allowed to come.

Sarah would also be busy at times. According to Malcolm, this was one of them. But whenever Kelly and Sarah hung out, they always had fun together. They would watch television together, or play a game together, or go out somewhere together. That was why Kelly was always excited for an opportunity to hang out with Sarah, and why she was disappointed when Malcolm said she wasn't in town. But Kelly wanted the same kind of relationship with her father. After all, he was her biological father. Shouldn't she have some sort of healthy, normal relationship with him? Shouldn't they watch tv together, or play a game together, or go out into town and have some fun together?

Suddenly, a new determination swelled in Kelly's soul. She wasn't going to miss out on another of Malcolm's trips. She wasn't going to miss out on an opportunity to be with her father. To be with her dad. Malcolm had warned her about the dinosaurs and how dangerous they were. He had strictly told her that she wasn't allowed to come on this trip. But Malcolm had also said that he treated her like an adult, and adults could make their own decisions. So it was logical to conclude that she could make her own decisions too, right?

And besides, he had blatantly told her to not listen to him. That was his best parental advice. So why not listen to him?

Kelly turned away from the map, knowing full well that she was going to go on this trip with her father, no matter what she must do. No matter what danger she may face.

No matter if Malcolm liked it or not.


A/N - Hey guys! Here's chapter 2 for you. As with last time, this chapter is mostly a novelization of the movie, with one scene that made it into the movie and another that was cut. You guys can probably guess which is which. Then, of course, there are the elements from Michael Crichton's novel. The last chapter mentioned the inclusion of Doctor Jack Thorne, and this chapter introduced him. Then there's Arby, who is another character from the novel that I decided to bring into this story. The inclusion of Thorne and Arby are probably the biggest changes to the move so far (there will be more and far greater alterations). I also decided to expand more upon the relationship between Malcolm and Kelly. In the novel, the two aren't related, and I was considering having that be the case here. But I couldn't think of a good reason for Kelly and Arby being in the warehouse in the first place without that connection. So, I decided to mix the two Kellys, with Kelly being both the daughter of Malcolm and the friend of Arby. Last, but certainly not least, was none other than Roland Tembo, one of my favorite characters in the Jurassic Park franchise and probably the most badass. I definitely wanted him in this story and I hope I can live up to his badassery both in this chapter and in the story. I hope I did a good job with all the characters and the chapter altogether. If you have any criticisms, don't be afraid to share. Of course, this is only the beginning of the story. The warehouse scene is not quite done yet and we've got a few more… interesting developments to come. There is still some time yet before chaos takes control. But, for now, that is all folks. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, and that you have a great day!