About 200 miles West of Costa Rica, May 1997
The sun shone brightly, casting its gaze upon the bright blue waves of the Pacific. Amongst the countless waves, a small barge, splashing through great ocean swells. It rocked back and forth, moving with the flow of the sea. The ship was crammed with equipment, its upper deck filled with the Challenger trailers and two AAVs. But though the deck was packed, there was still space available for passengers to congregate. One such passenger was Ian Malcolm.
Malcolm stood at the side of the boat, staring out at the endless ocean. It had been about four days since their charter had departed from San Diego. Of course, in his mind, that was four days since he found out his girlfriend was on an island of dinosaurs by herself. Four days since he had left the mainland with the hopes of rescuing her. But, worst of all, it was four days during which Sarah might have already been killed. Malcolm shook his head, trying to discourage such horrific thoughts. Regardless, he was getting pretty impatient. Of course, there wasn't much Malcolm could do about it, being stuck on a barge in the middle of the Pacific. But that only fueled his frustration.
"You okay, Ian?" The question came from behind him, but Malcolm already knew who had asked it. It was Alan Grant, who was walking up to stand to Malcolm's right. Ellie Sattler was there too, walking beside Grant and joining him.
Malcolm nodded and said, "Yeah. I'm fine."
Grant and Ellie had arrived at Thorne's warehouse about an hour after their charter was scheduled to leave. However, Malcolm had been able to delay it long enough for their arrival, allowing them to join the expedition. This had also made Thorne a bit happier since it gave him and his crew a little more time to prepare. In the end, one of the AAVs still had to be left behind, but Thorne was able to install IUDs on the Challenger trailers and even on one of the completed AAVs. He still protested the addition of Grant and Ellie to the team, pointing out that they only packed supplies for five people, not seven. Not to mention that there were no extra bunks for them to sleep in. Fortunately, Grant and Ellie agreed to simply sleep in one of the vehicles. The supplies, however, would need to be rationed.
Despite this, Malcolm was glad they were here. When they were in Jurassic Park, the two of them had been very important when it came to their survival. They practically saved Malcolm's life. Ellie had been able to get the power back on, allowing them to use the phones and call the mainland for help. At the same time, Grant was able to keep Lex and Tim alive on an island infested with dinosaurs. If anyone could rescue Sarah, they could.
But, at the same time, Malcolm couldn't help but feel a little guilty. Isla Sorna, after all, was probably even more dangerous than Isla Nublar. Not to mention that, while experts on prehistoric wildlife, Grant and Ellie were far from invulnerable. Malcolm couldn't help but fear that, perhaps, he was bringing them to their graves.
"You know," Malcolm said, "I appreciate you two being here, but if you ever change your minds, you can just stay on the boat."
Ellie waved dismissively. "Don't worry about us," she said. "We wanted to come here. You asked for our help and we want to give it."
"I know," Malcolm said, "but this isn't like Nublar. This island has -"
"Yeah, yeah, no fences," Grant interrupted. "We will be fine, I promise" he continued, "and so will Sarah. She knows as much about dinosaurs as we do, and she's also got plenty of survival experience from Africa."
Malcolm sighed doubtfully. "It doesn't matter if she can survive," he said, "but how long she can survive." He looked over at Grant and Ellie. "For all we know, she might be dead already."
Grant reached out and placed a hand on Malcolm's shoulder. "You know Sarah more than we do," he said, "but if anyone can survive on that island long enough to be rescued, it's her."
While Malcolm was still worried sick, this did help relieve his anxiety, even if only a little. The three of them stood there for a few long moments, watching the waves pass by.
Eventually, a thought seemed to dawn on Ellie. "I just thought of something," she said. "Why did Hammond pick Sarah? Not to say she isn't qualified," she quickly added, "but why didn't Hammond ask us? We've survived Nublar, doesn't he think we could survive this?"
"Probably the same reason why I was hesitant to call you," Malcolm replied. "He probably didn't want to endanger you again. That or he didn't think you would be crazy enough to agree." He sighed before saying, "As for Sarah, I think I know exactly why." Malcolm looked over at Grant and Ellie and continued, "Sarah certainly has the knowledge and experience, but most of all, she's close to me. Hammond really wanted me on this expedition, but he knew that I would be the last person willing to go. Not even money would persuade me. So, he decided to tempt me with something far more valuable. Sarah."
"Is that what he said?" Ellie asked.
"No," Malcolm admitted. "According to Hammond, Sarah approached him, and it was her idea to go to the island before everyone else. But I don't buy into that story."
"It doesn't matter at this point," Ellie said. "Sarah's on the island. What's important is that we make sure she gets off it safely."
Malcolm sighed again. "I guess you're right."
Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by a shout from nearby. "Aca esta!" The three of them turned towards the origin of the shout. It came from the captain of the ship. An old Hispanic man that seemed to be in his fifties. His arm was extended, his pointer finger aiming in the direction of the ship's bow. Malcolm, Grant, and Sattler all turned to see what he was pointing at.
At first, all Malcolm could see was nothing at all. Nothing but a large gray wall of swirling mist. But, upon further examination, Malcolm could just make out a shadow. A large figure hiding behind the wreath of fog. Something that seemed to take the shape of an island. Malcolm realized what he was looking at when the captain confirmed it.
"Isla Sorna!"
At about the same time, the bow penetrated the veil of mist, and the ship plunged into the fog.
"They should have called this place the 'island of clouds,'" Grant noted with a chuckle.
Malcolm ignored him, continuing to stare out through the fog. He was just waiting for that moment when the fog cleared, and Isla Sorna revealed itself to them. He began to wonder if the island was even real. He wished it wasn't real. But the shadow was enough to confirm that it was. That, and the fact Sarah was most definitely on that island, as well as the only living dinosaurs in the world.
Dinosaurs that could kill her at any moment.
Elsewhere on the Pacific Ocean
An old fishing boat chugged through across the Pacific, bouncing up and down on the waves. Howard King stood at the bow of the boat, firmly gripping the wooden sides of the boat. The wind whipped past his face, hurling ocean spray against his skin. He stared out at the gray, menacing sky, fighting sea sickness as the ship rolled through the heavy sea swells. The rickety vessel had survived so far, but King still wasn't sure that it would make it to the island in one piece if it did at all.
King sighed. There was only one reason he was out here, in the middle of nowhere. There was only one reason why he was risking his neck. Dodgson was taking chances again. Cutting corners and getting risky. Of all the things King's boss could do, that was what he feared the most. The last time Dodgson had gotten risky - riskier than usual - was four years ago, and that had cost the company over a million dollars, as well as the lives of three of their agents. Now he was getting risky again, only this time it was King's life that was at risk.
Howard King knew of Lewis Dodgson for about ten years. He had first heard of him very shortly after he had first joined Biosyn. He was notorious. Back then, King had wanted to become the same thing, though in a different way. He had joined Biosyn as a young, promising researcher, fresh out of Berkeley with a Ph.D. in biology and chemistry. All those years ago, King felt like he could take over the world, and many thought that he would.
Back then, Biosyn had been keenly interested in blood-coagulation factors. They appeared to hold the key to dissolving clots and preventing heart attacks. As it so happened, King had written his doctoral thesis on such factors. It was right up his alley. Biotech companies at the time had been in an arms race to develop a drug that would save lives, and make a fortune doing so. Biosyn was one of them, and in King, they had found potential to win that arms race.
King had been working on a substance called Hemagglutinin V-5, or HGV-5 for short. It was a promising substance, dissolving platelet aggression at an astonishing rate. With such a promising substance, King was able to build himself a promising career. A young researcher, just out of college, on the way to greatness. The most promising in ages, if not in the company's entire history. King had been given his own lab, with nearly half a million dollars available to him. In the annual report, his picture was always a prominent feature. Some even began to call him Howard 'Biotech' King. This led King to believe that, if there was a glass ceiling, he would crash right through it.
As it turned out, he would only crumble and fall.
While HGV-5 worked fast on platelet aggression, preliminary tests on human subjects proved that it failed astronomically against clots in myocardial infarctions or pulmonary embolisms. Even worse, those subjects began to suffer from gastrointestinal bleeding, neurological issues, and severe skin rashes. All negative symptoms were quickly tied to King's product. When one patient died of convulsions, testing was shut down. A week later, Howard King lost his prized laboratory.
After moving into a smaller lab, King decided to shift gears. He turned his attention to painkillers. He found some promise in the L-isomer of a protein derived from the African horny toad. The compound produced some narcotic effects. Perhaps he could have been successful, but King's confidence had been obliterated. He was no longer the promising young researcher that graced the company. Now he was a failure, clawing desperately at a chance for redemption. His work, upon review by the company, was rejected and determined to be too insufficiently documented for FDA approval. The project was soon canceled.
Now King was not just a failure, he was twice a failure. He was also now thirty-five, which was far from young in the eyes of the company. All of his promise was gone. He no longer graced annual reports. He was no longer the Biotech King, but rather a false one. It was rumored that King would be let go at the next review period. It seemed that King's career was over.
But then Lewis Dodgson had invited him to lunch.
Two years earlier… San Francisco
While King wanted to become like Dodgson, it was only in the attention he received. King wanted the fame Dodgson had, but a different kind of fame. King wanted to be famous. Dodgson was infamous. He had an unsavory reputation amongst researchers. He was known as 'The Undertaker.' It was not because Dodgson undertook daring new projects that could change the world. Rather, it was because Dodgson took the work of such projects from their owners and made it his own, often from right under their noses. Dodgson's only major failure was two years earlier, with the whole InGen ordeal. Before, King would have avoided him at all costs. But after his failures, King's reputation had been so low that accompanying Dodgson couldn't have made it any worse.
They had gone to a fancy seafood restaurant in San Francisco. It was expensive, but Dodgson offered to pay for the whole thing. King would have liked to pay anyway, but considering his dour future ahead, saving money seemed like a smart move.
After receiving their orders, Dodgson gave King a sympathetic look and said, "Research is tough."
"Tell me about it," King said with a depressed sigh.
"It's tough, and it's risky," Dodgson said. "The unfortunate truth is that innovative research rarely pans out. Only the lucky are successful. And you, my friend, are not lucky."
King scoffed.
"But does management understand?" Dodgson continued. "No. If the research fails, you are to blame." Dodgson sighed sadly. "It's not fair," he said empathetically.
"You can say that again," King said with another sigh.
"But that's the name of the game," Dodgson said with a shrug. He took a bite of soft-shelled crab. King remained silent, staring at his untouched plate of salmon. Dodgson swallowed, and then said, "Personally, I don't like risk."
King looked up, giving him a confused look. "But you take risks all the time," he said. "The whole InGen thing is proof of that."
Dodgson just shrugged. "Sure, that little incident was quite the gamble. One which didn't pay off," he said. "But because I take risks doesn't mean I like it. And while what I do has its risks, original work is riskier. Too risky, for my taste."
"What do you mean?" King asked.
"Most new ideas are bad," Dodgson explained. "Most original work fails. That's reality. If you conduct original research, you can expect failure. This is fine if you're working at a university. There, failure results in praise. In industry, it results in ostracism. That is why original work is not a wise career choice. It only leads to trouble, which is exactly where you are now."
"Well, what can I do?" King asked. "I'm not screwed now, am I?"
"You're close," Dodgson said, "but there's still hope for you. There is a way that a researcher in a position similar to your own might be able to survive."
"And what's that?" King asked desperately.
Dodgson smiled. "You have to take science and approach it at a different angle," he said. "You see, I have my own version of the scientific method. Focused research development. That's what I call it. If only a few ideas are ever going to pad out, why buy into the scientific lottery? Why try to find that one-in-a-million idea yourself? It's too difficult. Too risky. Even more so than paying over a million dollars to a couple of unreliable agents. Instead, let other people find those ideas. Let them take the risk for the so-called glory. I would rather wait. Spend my time developing ideas that show promise. Take what is good, and make it better."
Dodgson suddenly chuckled. "Or, if I can't do that, simply change it enough so I can patent it as my own. Then, while it might not be my idea, it will be my product."
King's eyes widened, shocked at how Dodgson blatantly admitted he was a thief. Even more so, he was amazed at the utter lack of embarrassment. King leaned forward. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked quietly.
"Because I see something in you," Dodgson said. "You have ambition, frustrated ambition. But, believe it or not, you don't have to be frustrated. You don't have to be fired at the next performance review, which I assure you will happen. Not unless you do something about it." Dodgson then cocked his head and asked, "How old is your kid, exactly?"
Surprised, King replied, "Four, why?"
Dodgson ignored the question. "I believe you are also going through a divorce, right?"
King looked down at his plate, staring sadly at the untouched salmon and undisturbed salad. "Yeah," he said with a depressed sigh.
Dodgson tsked. "Terrible," he said sympathetically. "A single father with a young child on the brink of losing his job. And it won't be easy finding another, I tell you. You won't be able to get anything as prestigious as you have now. For you, there will be no more chances. Who would give one to you? By thirty-five, a researcher should have made his mark. If he didn't, well, then he's not going to. It's not right, but it's how it is."
King sighed, knowing full well that Dodgson was right. This, indeed, was the thought process of not just Biosyn, but every biotech company in California. Perhaps the entire country.
Dodgson suddenly leaned across the table. With a lowered voice, he said, "But don't worry, Howard. A wonderful life awaits you. Take this new angle to science, look at the world the way I see it, and you will never suffer as you have again."
Dodgson extended a hand. "What do you say?" he asked with a charming smile.
King was deep in thought for several, long moments. But, eventually, he nodded, and accepted Dodgson's handshake.
Two weeks later, King found himself a new job, as Dodgson's personal assistant.
Present-day…
Ever since King had joined Biosyn's Department of Future Biogenic Trends, which was the fancy title for the company's division in industrial espionage, he had been able to claw back up through the ranks. He was not as prestigious as he once was. Not even Dodgson could help him rise that high. But, while King had relied on Dodgson for his success, he now had a fair share of it. He had many of the symbols of success. He had a mortgage, a divorce, and a child he only saw on the weekends, but King also had a Porsche, an expensive house, and plenty of money to spare. All thanks to his newly discovered ability to be the perfect second-in-command for the most notorious man in the company.
Over the past two years, King found himself quite close to Dodgson. He worked long hours for him, handling details and keeping his boss out of trouble. This allowed King to understand all sides of Lewis Dodgson. There were three large ones in particular: his imaginative side, his charismatic side, and his ruthless side. This last one King particularly feared. It was a dark, brutal side. One that King had hoped to control. He believed that, with two years as Dodgson's assistant, King had been able to learn how to keep that side in check. But then there were times when he was not so sure.
Like now, for instance.
Now King was standing at the bow of a putrid, rickety old fishing boat, which carried a jeep that was on the brink of falling over the side, holding a group of brutish mercenaries he was in charge of leading, and which was chugging along towards a terrible, godforsaken island out in the middle of nowhere. All for some vision that should have died four years ago.
Dodgson, the man who supposedly hated risks, was now once more taking a big one. Playing a dangerous game with forces King felt were better left alone. The last time King had seen him, in that village in Costa Rica, Dodgson had that intense gleam in his eyes. A look that King had only seen a few times before, but which greatly alarmed him every time he did. King knew it meant that people were likely to die.
Only this time, King might be one of them.
Isla Sorna, 'The Island of Sarcasm', 207 miles west of Costa Rica
The boat had quickly cut through the fog, breaking out into the open air only a few minutes later. There, Malcolm had been able to get a good view of the island. It seemed like any other tropical island in the South Pacific. A dense green jungle blankets the island's great mountains. Malcolm had found himself returning to that moment four years ago when he had first seen Isla Nublar. He had felt a sense of mystery and foreboding, but also a sense of wonder. With this island, all Malcolm got was the mystery and foreboding.
He had decided that the difference was the purpose of the islands. With Nublar, its purpose had been so that the entire world would see it, and the wonders it held. Sorna was different. No one was meant to see Sorna. No one but those who had worked there. No one was supposed to learn of the secrets InGen held here. That, even with what Malcolm understood about the island, made it all the more mysterious and, perhaps, sinister.
The ship had quickly made its way towards a nearby fiord, which cut through the tall, looming cliffs of the island. Through this narrow inlet, the ship made its way further into the island's interior, until it eventually reached a small lagoon.
Now Malcolm stood, arms against the rails, staring out at this verdant lagoon. He observed the lush vegetation, quietly existing without a care in the world. He noticed that some of the foliage was white. Bleached by small issues of yellow steam that seeped from the ground. Sulfurous steam, Malcolm guessed. A result of the island's volcanic nature no doubt. But it was not enough to outright kill the plants here. They adapted to the environment and survived. Life found a way, as did the marvelous but deadly animals that lived here.
Malcolm wondered if any of those animals were here. Obviously, the big ones weren't. They were probably further inland. But was there a small critter hiding out amongst the foliage? Watching as this alien object approached the shore? Malcolm could not be sure, but he wouldn't be surprised if there was.
The repulsive sound of vomiting disturbed Malcolm from his thoughts. Looking over, Malcolm found Eddie Carr. He was leaning over the side, coughing as vomit escaped his throat. Eddie had been suffering from sea sickness the entire journey, and it seemed that even with land so close, he was still feeling the effects.
Eddie eventually pulled back from the rail, wiping his mouth with a sleeve as he looked over at him. "Couldn't we… have just… airlifted… here?" he croaked.
Malcolm shook his head. "That would require us to land the helicopters on the island."
"So?" Eddie asked.
"The helicopters would be our only way off this island," Malcolm explained, "and if they were to be damaged or destroyed - which is entirely likely with the things that live here - we would all be screwed. At least the boat can keep away from the island and its dangers."
A short distance away, Malcolm heard a quiet scoff. He looked over and was not at all surprised to find that it came from Nick van Owen. The photographer was busy adjusting the rigging that strapped the equipment to the deck. That, however, did not stop him from listening to their conversation.
Malcolm rolled his eyes and sighed. "Look," he said gravely, "John Hammond already told you about what you're going to see on this island. Being sane people, I'm sure you don't believe him. And I'm sure you've concluded that I'm out of my mind too."
"No…" Nick said, his voice heavy with thick sarcasm.
"I'm not trying to convince you otherwise," Malcolm said, exasperated. "I wouldn't bother if I wanted to. But even if you think I'm deluded and harmless, I promise you, this place is not. There are things on this island that will not only kill you but be happy in doing so. If you take this place lightly, you'll never leave it."
"The only thing that's gonna kill me here are your lectures," Nick retorted.
Malcolm prepared a retort of his own but was interrupted before he could deliver it. The interruption came from a clamor that grew steadily louder as it approached. A moment later, the clamor revealed itself to be from the captain of the ship. He was following Thorne, fearfully rambling in a panic. He was speaking Spanish, but Malcolm doubted he could understand even if he did speak the language. Sticking closely to the captain was a small boy, who seemed to be eleven or twelve years old. Malcolm could only assume that the boy was the captain's son, especially considering the captain kept an arm wrapped protectively around the boy and the worried glances the captain frequently gave him.
Thorne himself seemed exasperated, shaking his head in an agitated manner. "I don't understand!" he said, annoyed. "Me no habla español! Comprende?"
"¡No aclaré aquí!" the captain rambled. "¡Tenemos que salir de aquí! ¡Dígales! ¡Dígales!"
"What the hell is he saying?" Thorne asked, turning to them.
Malcolm and Eddie shrugged, but Nick only sighed. "Let me," he said. "I know a bit of Spanish. Greenpeace, you know." Nick approached the captain, gesturing for him to calm down. "Calma, calma," he said in Spanish. "Comienza desde el principio."
The captain began to spew a flurry of Spanish at the photographer. "No podemos fondear aquí. Debemos irnos. A unas pocas millas de la costa. Aquí no." The captain suddenly squeezed his arm around the boy, pulling him in close. "He escuchado demasiados cuentos de esta cadena de islas. Estoy preocupada por mi hijo." He gave each of them a fearful look. "Por favor…"
"What did he say?" Malcolm asked. "Were you even able to get all of that?"
"I did," Nick said. "He says he wants to anchor a few miles offshore. Not here. He's heard too many stories about this island chain."
"What kind of stories?" Malcolm asked. He guessed as to the contents of the stories the captain was talking about, given when Malcolm knew of this island. Still, he was curious as to what the captain would tell them.
"¿Qué tipo de cuentos?" Nick asked.
The captain sighed. He then began to speak, only pausing to allow Nick to translate.
"De pescadores. Se acercaron demasiado a las islas y nunca volvieron."
"Stories about fishermen who came too close to the islands, and they never returned."
"Tengo la radio, tengo el teléfono de satélite."
"I have the radio and the satellite phone."
"Cuando necesitas, llámame."
"When you need me, send the call."
"Podemos estar aqui en dos horas."
"We can be here in two hours."
"Pero no me quedaré en ningún lugar cerca de estas islas."
"But I won't stay anywhere near these islands."
"Se llaman Las Cinco Muertes."
"They call them the -" Nick suddenly stopped, having a double-take, and a mixture of surprise fell upon his face. Nick turned to the captain and asked, "Las Cinco Muertes?"
The captain nodded. "Si."
"What does that mean?" Eddie asked.
Nick looked back at the three of them. This time, Malcolm noted, his face seemed worried. Almost pale with concern. "The Five Deaths," Nick said grimly.
Malcolm couldn't help but give Nick a knowing look.
Nick only responded by turning away and grabbing his pack.
They had been lucky in the spot they had chosen to land at. Malcolm had been worried that it would take hours to find a good place to unload all of their vehicles and equipment. They would need a spot where the beach was large enough to land their vehicles, as well as one where there was a path that could take the vehicles further into the island. This spot happened to have both of those. There was enough room for the vehicles, and Nick spotted a small trail leading into the jungle that was just large enough for the Challenger trailer.
After everything was unloaded, the ship quickly departed for the open ocean. Malcolm watched the boat move away with apprehension, wondering if he would ever see it again. He couldn't worry about that, though. They were more important things to worry about. Malcolm then entered the Challenger trailer, along with Ellie, Thorne, and Eddie. Nick jumped into the first AAV, the Fontana, which was to lead the way through the jungle. Grant volunteered to drive the Santana, which would take up the rear. With everything packed and ready, Nick honked the horn of his AAV and began to drive off, heading into the jungle and deeper into Isla Sorna. The rest of the expedition followed close behind.
Surprisingly, it did not take long to leave the jungle. Only after about five minutes, the path died away and the jungle opened up into a large, grassy plain. This plain extended for some distance, with the treeline appearing small. Distant mountains rose further away. The sun was high overhead, causing the air to shimmer in the midday heat. Malcolm, sitting at a desk that faced one of the side windows, watched as the landscape rolled by.
The island did have an air of beauty about it, but it was lost on Malcolm. He couldn't shake the fear that, somewhere on this godforsaken island, Sarah was being eaten alive, or perhaps already dead. But even if she was alive, Malcolm knew that did not remove the danger of this place. Even with his plan to leave as soon as they found Sarah, he knew that nature tended to ignore even the best-laid plans. Life did not care for humanity's plans. It would not hesitate to destroy those plans and their creators along with them. This was especially true considering the specific type of life that existed on this island. It was entirely possible that, even if Sarah was alive, and Malcolm was able to get to her, they would die here anyway.
Malcolm sighed and shook his head. "I am out of my mind," he muttered.
The sound of approaching footsteps removed Malcolm from his thoughts. He turned around to find Thorne approaching him. Curiously, clutched in Thorne's hands, was a large map. Thorne set the map on the desk and sat down next to Malcolm.
"I was thinking," he said. "We need to find a place to set camp. A place to call our base of operations."
"Shouldn't we be trying to find Sarah first?" Malcolm asked.
"We will," Thorne assured. "But I want to make sure everything's set up first."
Malcolm gave Thorne a hard stare. "Every minute wasted the chances that Sarah is dead increases exponentially. We don't have time to set up."
Thorne returned Malcolm's stare with one of his own. "We have to set up and get organized. We can't just charge in there and hope we happen to run into her. If what you say is true, that's an easy way to get killed."
Malcolm sighed, knowing that Thorne was right. They couldn't just run in. The island was large, much larger than Nublar. She could be anywhere. If she was alive, dying due to impatience would not help rescue her. That didn't ease his anxiety, though.
"Besides," Thorne continued, "the technology that will locate Sarah needs to be set up, which takes time, and which we can't do on the move." Thorne sighed and then pointed at the map. "Now, let's figure out a place to set camp," he said.
Malcolm looked at the map Thorne had displayed before them. The map displayed a detailed, geographic image of Isla Sorna. It showed various mountains, lakes, rivers, valleys, and plains. It was similar to the map Hammond had shown him, though without the thermal signatures.
Thorne pointed to the northeastern side of the island, near where a tiny sliver of ocean cut into the island. "This is the lagoon," Thorne said, pointing at that sliver. "I believe we are about here," Thorne added, dragging his finger over to a large plain. "I think we're heading north, towards this peninsula here." Thorne analyzed the map for a moment. "Based on this map, I believe the best spot to set camp would be… here." Thorne jabbed a finger at the map, pointing at a spot a few miles north, at the very edge of the island. From what Malcolm could see, the spot was in a small clearing at the top of a sheer cliff that overlooked the ocean. Thick jungle surrounded the clearing, with only a small trail that led to it.
Malcolm frowned as he studied the location. "Seems a little isolated, doesn't it?" he said.
"That's the point," Thorne said. "Doubt we'd see anything big here. Everything is further inland. We would be by ourselves."
"You can't know that for sure," Malcolm said, "and if something does come, well, just look." He pointed at the cliffs. "This spot doesn't give us many escape routes. The cliffs cut off our retreat. If we have to run, it would have to be towards whatever is threatening us." Malcolm gave Thorne a serious look. "Even if we survived, I doubt our equipment would."
"I understand, but it also prevents us from being surrounded," Thorne countered. "Besides, we will have the high hide set up somewhere ahead. If anything comes towards us, we'll know about it before it gets to us. Also, depending on where Sarah is, this site will probably be temporary."
Malcolm gave Thorne a curious look. He had noticed the way Thorne talked when discussing the dinosaurs. Unlike Nick, Thorne never seemed to doubt what Malcolm had to say about them. Thorne acted as though he didn't just believe Malcolm, but as though he knew what he said was true.
This thought led Malcolm to ask, "Do you believe me?"
Thorne gave him a confused look. "Believe what?"
"About the dinosaurs," Malcolm said. "I know Nick doesn't believe me, and I'm pretty sure Eddie doesn't either. You, however, never seem to question what I or Hammond said. So," he said, "do you believe me? Do you believe that there are dinosaurs on this island?"
Thorne sighed, thinking deeply for a moment. Eventually, he said, "It's not that I believe you. My mind tells me that what you and Hammond say is impossible. But," he added, "I've never liked being unprepared. I'd rather be prepared for something that doesn't exist than unprepared for something that does. Especially when something is as dangerous as you say. I won't really believe you. Not until I see them with my own eyes. Maybe not even then. But as I see it, it's more dangerous to doubt you."
Malcolm nodded in understanding. "I'm glad you think that way. That gives us a good chance of surviving this." Malcolm looked out through the window. Out over the grassy plain and in the dark jungle beyond. "But," Malcolm added, "believe me when I say that I wish I was lying."
About ten to twenty minutes later, the trailers finally came to a stop. Malcolm quickly stepped outside and looked around. In the end, Malcolm agreed to the spot Thorne had suggested. They were in a small, open clearing, surrounded by jungle trees and vegetation. At one end of the clearing was a small trail, which they had taken into the clearing. At the other end was nothing but a sheer drop straight down to the ocean below. The clearing was small, but fortunately, it was large enough to fit all three vehicles and the equipment they brought. There was even enough equipment for the Challenger trailers to turn around, so they were facing the jungle trail instead of the sheer cliff.
Suddenly, Malcolm heard a soft hum fill the air, echoing from the trailer. He turned around just in time to see a cone-shaped satellite dish, positioned on top of the trailer, open up and point towards the clouds.
"What's that?" Grant asked, echoing Malcolm's thoughts.
"That is a Global Positioning Sensor." The response came from Eddie, who was stepping out of the trailer. Malcolm noticed that he held something in his hands. Something that seemed like a small, handheld monitor. "It will help us find Sarah."
Skeptical, Malcolm approached Eddie, walking up to him to look at the device. He peeked over the technician's shoulder, examining the device he held in his hand. The monitor displayed an image of the island. It wasn't nearly as detailed as the map, however. Large swaths of the island were completely empty.
Malcolm frowned as he examined it. "It looks useless to me," he said. "The clouds are blocking the signal."
Eddie shrugged dismissively. "Give it a minute," he said. "It's a good system, it just takes time to sum data."
"Data from what?" Grant asked, walking over to join them.
"Radar," Eddie replied. "Navigational satellites."
"Navigational satellites?" Grant asked, looking completely befuddled.
Eddie opened his mouth to explain further, but Malcolm cut him off, patting his shoulder. "Don't bother," he said, remembering Grant's greatest weakness. "When it comes to computers, Grant makes me look like Einstein."
Eddie gave Malcolm an odd look. "Einstein was a mathematician," he said, stating the obvious.
Malcolm sighed and rolled his eyes. "Exactly," he retorted.
"Yeah," Grant said with a nod. "Anything relating to dinosaurs, I can handle. But computers." He scoffed. "No chance."
Suddenly, the empty gaps in the map began to be filled in. Edges were traced and details were enhanced until, eventually, the monitor provided a high-quality map of the island. One far surpassing the paper map in detail. A moment later, a blinking red 'X' appeared on the screen. It flashed on a spot near the northeastern edge of the island. Malcolm quickly recognized it as their current location.
"There," Eddie said with satisfaction. "That's us. There is a location sensor in this device, to show its location, as well as the person holding it."
"So?" Malcolm asked.
"So, I have the same thing in each of our satellite phones." Eddie looked at Malcolm. "Including Sarah's." Eddie looked back down at the monitor.
He pressed a few buttons on the keypad below the monitor, and suddenly a blinking red triangle appeared on the map. It flashed a few miles south of the 'X' and was accompanied by an ID tag that read, "HRDG."
Eddie smiled. "That's our girl," he said. He looked back at Malcolm. "See, Doc? Everything's under control."
Malcolm, however, was not so optimistic. "Congratulations," he said. "We know her phone is safe. I'm so relieved." He sighed. "Are the rifles ready?"
"Ready and waiting," Eddie replied. "I'll go get them."
Malcolm nodded. "Let's go," he said. "And the second we get her, we're out of here."
The two vehicles zigzagged through the jungle, trying to move as fast as possible. But this proved to be a difficult task, the cars having to slow down to avoid trees or fallen logs. The Fontana was in the lead, driven by Thorne, and with Eddie, Nick, and Malcolm himself as passengers. The Santana was driven by Grant, who was accompanied by Ellie. Malcolm probably would have ridden with them, but the back side of the Santana had been cut out and replaced with equipment that was to help raise the high hide. Besides, Eddie was holding the monitor, and Malcolm wanted to keep a close eye on it.
Eventually, they came to a point where the flashing 'X' was only a short distance away from the triangle. However, they were separated by a particularly dense area of jungle, one that the cars wouldn't be able to pass through.
"Let's get out here," Malcolm said. "She's close."
Parking the cars, everyone quickly jumped out of their vehicles. Thorne and Eddie grabbed the rifles and began passing them out to everyone. Of course, with six people and only five guns, one person would be short a weapon. But, Malcolm knew that, as long as they stayed together, they should be fine.
Malcolm grabbed two rifles and offered one to Grant. But the paleontologist only waved him off. "Give it to Ellie," Grant said. "I'm terrible with guns."
"So I've heard," Malcolm said with a smile. "Take it anyway. Give it to Sattler if you want, just make sure someone has it."
Grant nodded and took the rifle, passing it to Ellie shortly after.
"Oh, and don't shoot yourself," Malcolm advised. He then turned to Thorne and said, "Let's go."
The six of them proceeded to make their way through the jungle, following Eddie with the monitor. Progress was slower than Malcolm would have liked, their steps being hindered by fallen logs and thick underbrush. But, bit by bit, they got closer and closer to Sarah's signal. Eventually, they were practically on top of it.
Stumbling out of the foliage, the group found itself in a streambed about fifteen yards wide. It was mostly dry, except for a small stream that ran quietly through the middle. Glancing at the monitor, Malcolm saw that the blinking 'X' was overlapping the HRDG signal. He looked up, glancing around the streambed frantically for any sign of Sarah. But there was nothing. Nothing but a dense jungle and a dry streambed.
"She should be here," Malcolm said worriedly. "We're right on top of it."
Suddenly, Nick shouted, "Over there!" Malcolm turned to see him pointing at the other side of the stream. There, Malcolm saw a small object, laying against the rocks, tannish green like the jungle, but completely foreign to it.
A backpack.
Throwing caution to the wind, Malcolm charged across the stream and ran over to the pack. He quickly kneeled before the pack, setting aside his rifle, and began to study it. The bag was severely battered. Holes and tears were scattered across it. It was equally as filthy, if not more so, the backpack being covered in dirt, stains, and…
…and smears of blood.
Malcolm riffled through the pack, quickly finding Sarah's satellite phone. Setting it down, he looked up and yelled, "Sarah!"
Thorne quickly did the same, shouted, "Sarah!"
Nick, who still stood on the other side of the stream, joined in the call, yelling, "Sarah Harding!"
Meanwhile, as Nick and Thorne began shouting Sarah's name, Eddie walked up beside Malcolm. "Oh my god…" he said quietly, staring at the bag wide-eyed. "Is she…"
"No, no," Malcolm quickly said, shaking his head. "She can't be."
Eddie looked doubtful, fearfully so, and Malcolm couldn't help but feel the same way.
However, Grant walked up and knelt beside Malcolm. "I think she's fine," he said assuringly. "There aren't any signs of a struggle, and most of the blood here is old. Weeks, maybe even months old. There isn't that much of it either." Grant put a hand on Malcolm's shoulder and gave him a comforting look. "She's fine, Ian, trust me."
Malcolm sighed. "I hope you're right."
Nick looked over at them. "She must be nearby," he said. "If we split up we'll cover more -"
"No. Absolutely not," Malcolm quickly interrupted, standing up. "We stay together."
"Predators target strays that split off from the group," Ellie added. "Even with a gun, splitting up is a bad idea."
With a sigh, Nick said, "Well, I'm going to search the foliage on this side of the stream." Trees began to sway in the background, behind Nick, but Malcolm dismissed this. It was just his imagination. "Someone should come with me," Nick added.
"I will," Thorne volunteered.
Nick nodded and continued, "Two people stay in the center and the other two take the far ridge." However, as Nick spoke, Malcolm realized that there was only a gentle breeze flowing past. There were no strong winds. Certainly nothing strong enough to make the trees sway.
Suddenly, Malcolm felt someone grab his shoulder. "Do you see that too?" Grant asked. "The trees."
"Yeah, I see it," Malcolm said. He noticed now that only a few clumps of trees were swaying. Every other tree seemed perfectly motionless.
"We'll keep within shouting range of each other and call out every…" Nick suddenly stopped talking, his eyes beginning to widen. Now, the trees weren't simply swaying. They were creaking and groaning as well. Speaking some foreign language. Warning them that something was nearby. They were also swaying peculiarly, shivering as they swayed from left to right. Something was in the foliage. Something big.
Nick turned around and began to back away from the treeline. He slid a small tape into his video camera and turned it on, swinging it up to his shoulder. At the same time, Eddie and Thorne readied their rifles while Malcolm carefully picked his off from the ground, gesturing to Ellie to ready her own. The shaking trees seemed closer now. Whatever was there seemed to be moving downstream, along the streambed. The group began to walk carefully in the same direction, tracking the disturbance as they moved alongside it. Up ahead, the streambed was blocked by a collection of fallen trees and thick foliage. The trees beside these logs began to sway, and the crashing grew louder than ever.
"What is it?" Malcolm asked carefully.
"Something big…" Eddie said, gripping his rifle nervously.
"How big?" Malcolm asked.
"Big enough to worry about!" Eddie retorted, raising his rifle defensively against the movement in the trees.
"Bigger than us," Thorne guessed.
"Yeah…" Grant agreed.
Malcolm squinted as he tried to spot the cause of the disturbance. He thought he could see some sort of shadow. A glimpse of movement. Not much else. But then the trees right at the edge of the streambed began to part. Movement suddenly comes into view. The group freezes as massive, spade-shaped plates appear above the foliage. A deep, harmonious call echoes through the air. Malcolm's eyes widen as, from the jungle, the cause of the commotion steps out into the open.
A living, breathing dinosaur.
A/N - There we have it! Our expedition's first encounter with a dinosaur. You can probably guess which one it was given the description. Of course, I decided to have the chapter end here, since we got to have some of those cliffhangers. But don't worry, we'll be getting to some dinosaurs soon. Speaking of which, Jurassic World: Dominion is out in theaters. That is partly why I decided to post this chapter today. I did see the movie, and while I have some mixed feelings about it, I do think it's worth watching, whether in theaters or when it comes out on some streaming site. It will probably satisfy most people's desire for nostalgia. Our three original characters, Grant, Sattler, and Malcolm, are all in it, and more than just a cheap cameo. So that's cool. I won't say anything else about it for those who haven't seen it yet. As for this chapter, the expedition finally reached the island, and I was also able to introduce another new character to you guys. Howard King. He, like Thorne and Arby, is from Michael Crichton's novel The Lost World. I hope you guys enjoy him. Anyway, that's all for now. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and that you have a great day. I'll see you next week!
