(A/N:These boy are supposed to be around thirteen, fourteen years old. Although, Sean and Alec are both Life Scouts, so that makes them fifteen, and Ralphy's practically just joined, but he a Second Class, so he's twelve. In real life, I'm almost sixteen, but in here, Matt's turning fifteen. Also, Matt is not my name, I am simply putting my personality in him. Also, I'll be putting character descriptions in the next chapter, sorry about that.)

Dinotopia: Found

Chapter 1

"Hang on! I think he's waking up!"

The world of black was swirling in front of Matt's eyes. What was going on? What had happened? Why was he thinking? Who did these voices belong to? Time to try something simple.

"Urgh…"

F, F, F. He'd utterly failed to do something so SIMPLE as talk. Attempting something else, Matt cracked open one eyelid, to find himself staring into another set of eyes. He quickly shut his eye as the headache came rolling in waves. It was like being on the…boat! Matt's eyes snapped open and he jerked up, swinging his head left and right. He couldn't see anything at all, what the hell was going on!

"Matt! Slow down! Sean! Gimme his glasses!"

Slowly, Matt slowed his head as his vision came back. It was still dark, but at least he could see. Then, just as suddenly, he wished he couldn't see what was right in front of him. They were all sitting on a beach, with flashlights illuminating the sand. But the thing he didn't want to see was the body that was laying in front of him with a piece of iron shoved through its thin chest. It was Ryan Sanders. Ryan had been everyone's friend, someone who'd always sit back and listen instead of being the one to talk. He was short, and his legs were longer than the rest of his body. He'd had to wear thick glasses, since he was almost blind in both of his eyes. He wasn't very good at sports, and would always sit on the sidelines, cheering for the other boys as they played smear the queer, dodge ball, soccer, baseball, basketball, and other things. Ryan had been new to shooting. This had been his first hunting trip. And his last. Matt opened his eyes again, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. Ryan's glasses were cracked, his mouth slightly open because of his broken jaw. One of his ears was missing, and his left arm was bent at a peculiar angle. At least he didn't feel any pain now.

Sean Irvine, a Life Scout who'd been like a brother to Matt, walked up and put one arm around Matt's shoulders, saying "He didn't feel anything. I found him with that piece of the railing in him, and he broke all his bones in the crash."

Matt slowly stood up and looked around. Everyone else had survived. Alec, Scott, Carl, Blake, Eric, Ralphy, Glenn, Robert…and himself. So why hadn't Ryan? Glenn sighed and looked up, at the sky. Storm clouds covered the dark expanse, and they didn't seem to be going away. Looking back down, he saw his son, Carl, holding some gasoline and a box of matches. Carl had always been somewhat of a pyromaniac. He'd once taken the top off a tank of propane, thrown in his mom's cigarette lighter, and blown it up. He'd been grounded for two months for that. At last, it appeared that Carl was making the right choice. Everyone gave their last regards, then, slowly, respectful as possible, Carl poured the gasoline onto Ryan's body, than struck a match, dropping it onto the boy's chest. No one spoke as they watched the remains of their friend burn. There was nothing to say.

This trip had originally been between most of the boys in Boy Scout Troop 608. Their Scoutmaster, Glenn Weaver, was willing to pay for them all to go island hopping, as well as deer and maybe tiger hunting in India. Of course, Matt had jumped at the opportunity. He'd always loved guns, and had only gone on a few hunting trips, but had never been island hopping. The last he remembered of his home was when the boat to India cast off, and he'd been waving to his parents, thinking about how much fun he'd have on this trip. He was so wrong. Glenn had bought a boat when they got there, and since they had no other place to put them, he'd stored the guns and ammo he'd brought on the boat. Matt may have loved guns, but he never owned any. Glenn owned about thirty, including a few automatics that had been modified to semi-automatics so that they would be legal. It had all been great fun…up until the storm. In uncharted waters, they'd run into storm clouds. Glenn had just laughed and told the boys to hang on tight, that they could ride it out. What they got instead was a hell of a nightmare. Especially when they'd hit the reefs. Matt was filled in on what happened during the storm as they all removed the guns and ammunition from the hull of the boat. Most of them had made it, and almost all of the ammo was still dry, so at least they could protect themselves.

From what? Matt thought, as he picked up a Thompson from the pile. All there is out here is birds.

As Matt started loading the magazines, Glenn told the boys who had automatics to give him their guns so he could modify them to automatics again. Shotguns, rifles, and handguns were passed out, so that each boy had at least three guns. Some had more, which would be the automatics, which included an Uzi, the Thompson Matt had picked out, an M16, an AK-47, and a Sig Sauer. There was grim silence as each boy pulled out a backpack from the wreck and started loading ammo into it. All the automatics had about five magazines each and they all had to be filled by hand. By the time dawn came around, seven dry crates were emptied onto the beach. Three of them had been found in knee high level water, so they left those. All the boys started digging through their pockets. Cell phones, keys, wallets, and photos all hit the beach. Matt pulled the last piece of his cell phone out of his pocket and discarded it, looking to the pile. These things had become unnecessary, so they all had to go. Matt sighed as he pulled the rifle and shotgun over his shoulder and strapped his handgun belt onto his waist. He'd been given a Colt semi-auto, which he preferred. The only old gun he really liked was the Thompson; he wasn't really a fan of revolvers. This activity continued until noon. Glenn stood up and looked around. All the boys had rifles, shotgun, handguns, and a few had automatics.

Picking up the Uzi, Glenn screwed a stock and a silencer onto the gun, before calling out "Alright, boys! Let's go! We gotta find out if there's anyone we can ask for help from."

All the boys stood, staggering under the weight of their guns and ammo, took one last look around, at the boat, at where Ryan's body had been, at photos on the beach, and then finally followed Glenn into the jungle. Little did they know that they were walking into hell.

Blake Weaver gripped the handle of his M16 tightly as they pushed their way through the jungle. They'd passed some ruins, a few large skeletons that they'd all admired in awe, but most importantly, they'd heard several strange sounds. Chirps that sounded like birds, moans and roars that couldn't possibly belong to tigers, and finally, something had been in the bushes. At first, they'd almost passed it, but when the bushes started rustling violently, everyone immediately started aiming, but whatever it was went away. They hadn't seen or found whatever had almostattacked them, but whatever it had been, it hadn't been friendly. Nor had it been very big, and that's what confused them all the most. As they all progressed, the sun started to set, and they all started looking for a camp. Not a single word had been said all day. No one knew what to say. Finally, they settled down near what looked like a temple overlooking a river. As Matt dumped his pack and looked around, he could feel a presence. He didn't know exactly HOW he knew it, but it was just there. Raising the Thompson, he listened for a few minutes before he heard something from the river. Turning, he cocked his head curiously. The river was serene, not a rock in its path, nothing to make a splash.

"Hey Matt! C'mon, we're gonna try and make-"

Carl had been about to tell Matt to look for something to eat, but he shut up as a snarl, a burst of gunfire, and the snapping of breaking branches in the bushes. Matt waited for a few seconds, then pulled the trigger again, let off a few more rounds, then waited. The jungle had gone quiet. Deathly quiet. Mat took a few more steps forward, raising the Thompson. Suddenly, something red flashed in front of him, and he pulled the trigger again. He was surprised when his shots were joined with others. He took a brief look over his shoulder to find that Carl had fired his AK and Blake had managed a round or two from his M16. Matt may have been grateful for the help, he still swore and backed up when he saw what came out of the bushes. About five feet tall, the creature stood on two legs, had a stiff tail, and had three claws on each arm. And there were two of these creatures. Matt, being a dinosaur buff, which had gotten him teased constantly at school, recognized these creatures as Velociraptors, Raptors for short. Both were bleeding from gunshot wounds, but one of them was trying to get away. The one that continued to rush Matt, despite having a bullet in its right leg, had another wound in its neck. Just before it reached Matt, there was a loud BOOM, and the next instant, the Raptor had a bullet hole at least a half inch wide in its skull. Looking back again, Matt saw Alec on his feet, a rifle in his hands. It was a magnum, which explained the loudness and the power of the shot. Matt's ears were ringing, since he'd never really shot a gun without earplugs before.

Looking back at the dead raptor, Carl muttered "I thought dinosaurs were extinct."

Looking down, Matt said "Well, this one is."

Quick Killer struggled through the bushes, heaving against the wound in her side. She'd never gone up against an adversary like that before. She'd even tried to get one that was on the edge of the group, but it had somehow heard her and her mate, Fire Claw. If it hadn't been for the human's companions and their strange…she didn't know what they were, but she was sure she could've taken the human down and dragged him away before anyone else realized what had happened. These were obviously NOT local humans. Not only from their dress and smell, but also from the way they carried those weapons with such assuredness. That was what scared her the most. As she got back to the nest, others smelled her blood, and quickly began to rush towards her. For one fleeting second, she was afraid that they would kill her, but then she relaxed, slightly. These were her family, after all. About three or four Raptors grouped around her, looking at her wounds.

"What happened?"

"What is wrong with you?"

As calmly as she could, Quick Killer related her story back to the others. Just about everyone was around her now.

"And then, Fire Claw told me to get out of there, while he gave me some time. He knew he wasn't going to make it."

One of the older ones stepped forward. His name was Two-Moons, and he was considered the smartest Raptor in the pack.

"But, what were the things they held? You said they were weapons that made loud noises and launched invisible things, but can you give a description?"

Quick Killer began to think about the details of the weapons as closely as she could. Then she remembered something. Each time a sound was made, one of the humans moved one of their fingers. She relayed this information back to Two-Moons, but he did not know what this meant.

"We will have to ask around. But, until we find out if these humans pose a threat to us or not, everyone is to stay away from them."

Quick Killer knew she couldn't. Not onlysince they had killed her mate, but mostly because she wanted to figure out what was going on. Especially with the one that one of the humans called…what was it? Oh, yes, Matt.

That night, votes on whether or not Dinosaur Steak should be on the menu were cast. Majority won, and Matt sat there, chewing something that tasted like dark chicken. That wasn't really surprising, since every foreign meat seemed to taste like chicken. As they all sat around the campfire, most rubbing their ears since they were still ringing, Matt thought about the day's earlier events. When he'd looked at the Raptor that was running away from him, he'd looked at its eyes and one thing had registered in his mind; It was afraid of him. Some thing else was bugging him as well as that. He reached up, tentatively, and rubbed his ears. They had stopped ringing. Even Ralphy, the smallest, who had been only approaching the campsite and was at least six or eight feet away from the guns when they were fired, was still rubbing HIS ears. Matt frowned at this. Rubbing his ears once more, he got up, announced he was going to sleep, picked up his Thompson, and started making somewhere comfortable for himself to sleep. Before he drifted off, however, one last detail registered in his mind, but he couldn't be sure how it got there; Quick Killer…Quick Killer…

Meanwhile, in the bushes, a Raptor stood, hiding, watching the humans at the fire. One of them got up and said something, while picking up one of those weapons. She recognized him as the one named Matt. As he lay down on the edge of the ring of light from the fire, she watched him. Soon, all the other humans, except one, went to sleep. The last one, she assumed, was to stand watch. A very clever move. Unless you were big, like an Allosaur or a Tyrannosaurus, sleeping in the Rainy Basin could be as deadly as walking straight into a nesting area. Raising one clawed arm, Quick Killer pulled a leaf out of her face, watching both the human named Matt, and the one standing watch. He was facing the other way, sitting at the edge of the fire with his back turned to Matt. Very quietly, she crept forward, towards Matt, and started to sniff him. She nudged him a bit, and he shifted, making her jerk back. After a few seconds, she lowered her head again and kept inspecting him. That was when the shot rang out.