1Disclaimer: My prolonged absence from this fic. does not imply that I own it. If it did to you, I apologize, for you are gravely mistaken. I no more own this than I do the weather, but I do own all three movies if that counts.
Chapter 4
"What was that?" Pastor Maer asked as expressions of fear covered the other faces, save Hammond's.
"That would be one of our main attractions," Hammond said enthusiastically. "Come this way, slowly now." Only Hammond and the Pastor moved at all. The others stood as still as statues. Lex and Time were whimpering and Dr. Sattler clung to Dr. Grant in fear. Of Pastor Maer's companions, Hammond seemed to be the only one who had not lost his nerve.
"Are they all right?" Maer asked.
"Oh, yes, they're fine. It's probably an after effect of the helicopter ride. They didn't wear seatbelts, you know."
"What are you going to tell his Parish if he dies? Will you brush it off as another boating accident?" Ian challenged, careful not to let his anger bring him to folly. He was a statue.
"I assure you, Dr. Malcolm, we are perfectly safe here and I do not appreciate you frightening my new associate," Hammond's tone turned toward anger to match Malcolm's.
"Don't worry, Mr. Hammond. I'm quite accustomed to Dr. Malcolm's proclivity to worry excessively."
"I'm glad to hear that."
"Therefore, once again, my advice will go unheeded and there will be seven graves on this island," Ian muttered, more to himself than to Hammond or Maer, whose backs were turned and slowly slipping out of sight into the other room. Another tremor knocked the whole room into silence.
"There he is!" They heard Hammond exclaim from the next room. Maer gasped in awe.
"How, how?"
"Be careful not to move," Malcolm warned, assuming the worst: that a T-rex lurked outside the small building.
"He's huge! Look at those teeth! This is amazing! How did you do it? Are there others?" Malcolm could only hope that Maer's voice was the only part of his anatomy that was moving. Finally an impact tremor shook the house and another, and another, until they faded into a distant rumble. A collective breath was released and the room came to life. Dr. Malcolm and Alan Grant locked eyes.
"Call the helicopter," Malcolm said in a voice so low Grant could hardly hear. "We are getting out of here."