PLEASE DO NOT FEED.

Dinosaurs have special diets, properly balanced for nutritional needs. Please—for their health and your safety—do no feed them anything.

Thank you.

Por favor no le de comida a los animales.

Gracias

S'il vous plaît ne pas nourrir les animaux.

Merci

Welcome...to the Awakening

Chapter 10

The Dead Don't Starve

Owen isn't sure how long he sleeps, but he's thankful when the haze lifts. During the darkness and pain, it was Barry who was making sure he was still alive, making sure he didn't die. He can't remember if anyone came to bother him, and he's glad. His body was so exhausted. Perhaps he was slightly stupid for trying to push himself past the pain.

Pushing himself to the edge of his bed, he sits up and looks out the window. It's bright and airy, just like how he feels inside. Except for the fact he is still lacking his Blue.

Why did InGen have to insist she was lethal? Why are they convincing everyone the raptors are deadly? Well, Owen reasons, they have killed people.

Except inside, Owen knows better. He knows his Blue protects him and always will.

Rising from the bed, he's surprised to find that despite his stiff legs, he's able to walk without a cane. It's a wonderful feeling and just adds to the fact he feels like himself for the first time since... Well, a long time.

When he reaches the kitchen, Owen's overwhelmed by the scent of lemon. His gaze drops to the linoleum floor which holds a slight sheen. From there, it rises to the counters which he can nearly see his reflection in. Moving toward the oven, a gasp leaves his lips. The stove—specifically the right front burner which is normally caked with mac and cheese—is so clean guests can eat off of it.

"What in the world?"

Opening the fridge door, he notices not only is that clean as well but sees Tupperware stacked on top of each other. Pulling one from the top shelf, there's Rigatoni inside. Pursing his lips to the side, he snaps the sides and pulls off the lid. It smells delicious.

Owen doesn't even question it. He puts it in the sparkling microwave and sets the timer. With a growling stomach, it could be poisoned, and he wouldn't care.

The growling reminds him of his girls. They're probably wondering where he is. Most likely, they think he's abandoned them. Owen suddenly feels so very disconnected from life. He might as well have been on Mars for the past sixteen years.

Last he remembers, they weren't getting fed. And the one person who was feeding them, he presumably fired for being an asshole.

Things are not good.

The microwave dings as there's a knock at the door.

"Come in," Owen responds as he pulls the food from the microwave. He lets it clatter to the counter as steam rises. Flexing his fingers, he probably should have realized it would be hot. Grabbing a fork, he glances at the door as Ms. Dearing shuts it.

Today she's dressed in another God-awful skirt suit—taupe-colored this time. In her hands, she death-grips a vanilla file folder. He wonders if it contains his walking papers. He's sure been out of commission for a while. Maybe they consider him a liability.

"Good morning, Owen," she greets. Her eyes widen as she looks around. She stiffens and leans back slightly.

He's learned a few things over the years and can see she's aghast at the house—he's aghast, but for completely opposite reasons, including the fact the mac and cheese stain has been buffed out. Owen wonders if Dearing would have even entered had this place not been clean because as he looks around, it's not just the kitchen, but his entire bungalow.

Did Barry clean while he slept?

Taking his Tupperware to the small table, he sits and issues to the chair across from him. "Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you," Dearing responds as she approaches and pulls out the chair. She looks down at it and swallows roughly. Owen is certain if she had Clorox wipes with her, she'd wipe the seat down, ultimately convincing him that if the bungalow hadn't been cleaned, she wouldn't have entered.

Clearing her throat, Dearing sits all prim and proper like a poodle. "How are you feeling?"

"Well, I'm alive," Owen answers and takes a bite of macaroni. He's never tasted a flavor explosion quite like what's happening in his mouth. His chewing slows so he can savor it.

"That's good to hear. I understand that you've recently started moving around your…" With a scrunched nose, Dearing casts a glance around his bungalow. "…residence again."

With a mouth full of Rigatoni, he nods.

"Good. I was wondering if we could discuss the stranger at the Raptor Paddock."

Owen swallows. "Have they returned?"

"It's been hard to tell. The feeds have been offline. They're attempting to upgrade apparently," she admits and clears her throat as she folds her hands on the table over the file folder she places there. "I was hoping to hear that you are well enough to return?"

"I would think so." Owen takes another bite, and he leans his head to the right. "Something has to be done about the raptors not being fed. I understand that you may not always condone what my girls do, but not feeding them isn't helping the situation."

"Excuse me?"

"Not feeding them is causing more deaths."

Dearing's brow scrunches. "They're not being fed?"

"Am I not speaking English?" he questions. "That's what I said."

"I…" She looks at the file folder and opens it. "Perhaps that's why this stranger is feeding them."

With a glance to the folder, relief spreads through his muscles as he realizes it contains images of the intruder and not a pink slip. He looks at her. "You didn't know they weren't being fed?"

Dearing shakes her head. "No."

Owen takes another bite of macaroni. He can't believe she would lie to his face. "I'm supposed to believe that? You knew what Gopher was doing to Echo. You didn't stop it."

"Gopher?"

"That psychotic, feathered menace!" he snaps. "Don't tell me you didn't know about her! Or how Echo was trapped in there with her!"

"I'm not some animal specialist," she retorts. "I thought that was your job. Besides, aren't these things supposed to fight for dominance?"

"Fight, yes. Kill like that? No."

Dearing raises her hands. "Why didn't you stop it? You're in charge."

The shock he feels is clearly written across his face in the way his brow furrows and mouth opens. "Did you just start yesterday? I have no say. You're the operations director. Any changes to the raptors have to go through you. You could have gone to Masrani, and he could have said Gopher was too dangerous."

She doesn't respond, because, in all honesty, he knows she knows he's right. He may train them, but he has no say in what goes on. His hands are constantly tied behind his back. InGen has told him as much time and time again, especially when it came to Blue. If something needs to be changed, only Masrani—and by extension Dearing—or InGen themselves can approve it.

"I didn't know that," she says softly. "I had no clue you couldn't… How do we fix this?"

"You can't," he responds and feels his shoulder slouch because he knows it's far too late to make amends. "There are some things you can't fix. Echo has learned to do whatever she needs to in order to survive. She'll even go against the alpha and beta in order to ensure self-preservation. She's already shown it."

"If we keep the asset fed, then it'll be fine."

"No. You don't understand," Owen explains. "You can keep her content and happy, but there will always be a chance she attacks. The mistakes that were made with her have turned her into another beast entirely. She may be loyal to the pack after her spat with Blue, but that bond will never be what it needs to be. In the back of her mind, she will always be wondering about her own survival."

Dearing takes a deep breath. "I'll tell Masrani she needs to be put down."

A gasp leaves his lips. The idea of putting Echo down is like putting an elderly person down because they aren't as quick anymore. "Why would we kill her for our mistakes?"

"You're telling me she could attack at any moment—"

"I'm not going to kill her because we messed up. It's just like Charlie never being as strong-willed or as vicious as Blue because Foxtrot died. She shouldn't be killed for it. These aren't machines, Dearing. They aren't just assets; they're living, breathing creatures. They are affected by what we do. At what point is InGen going to realize this?"

Dearing doesn't respond. She merely gazes at the file folder without really even looking at it.

"If I had been allowed to raise them the way I did Blue, maybe they wouldn't be so fucked up," he says.

"As a hatchling?" she questions and looks at him. "I heard your philosophy when it came to her."

"What philosophy is that?"

"That she needed to be treated like a human baby."

"Is that what InGen told you?" Owen scoffs and rolls his eyes. "No, that's not what happened. I was hired to train them. InGen forced me to raise Blue like a human. I couldn't leave her side. I needed to feed her constantly, hold her even.

"Then, after setting this ideal, they ripped the carpet out from under both of us. I can't touch her; I can barely see her. There are so many limitations on me because they claim she's lethal and will kill me. The incident with Echo proved otherwise."

"So, that just means she sees you as alpha, right?" Dearing argues. "They felt you were too close. They're trying to spare you."

"Did you know Blue used to be able to laugh? Did you know she was extremely vocal? Or the fact she picked up on actions I did and started repeating them?" he challenges. "She used to babble to me all the time. She could open doors, flip the footrest up, and hop in the chair. She used to laugh when something funny happened.

"That's what my girl could do. And they stopped that because it wasn't what they wanted. They want her to be a killer, but that's not what they created."

"And what did they create, Owen?"

"A living creature who is known to be vicious but fiercely loyal as well. A being that is capable of emotion and thought, even though we might not understand it. My little girl will always be a killer, but she's also capable of love."

Dearing pauses and stiffens slightly. "Perhaps that's why they say she's depressed."

"Who?" His brow scrunches. "What?"

Blinking, she looks at him. "It's the reason you're so angry."

Owen is a lot of things, but angry is not at the top of his list. Confused, definitely—who cleaned his house and made him food? Depressed, probably—but he's so far from Blue despite being so close. Angry, though? He's frustrated with InGen, but he hasn't reached angry.

Dearing shakes her head and rises from the table. "I will see to it that the raptors receive more meat."

He looks up at her and taps his fingers against the table for a moment. "I want live cows brought in."

Her eyes widen, but she gives a nod. "Fine. I will find you a live cow. Good day—"

"No," he interrupts. "You didn't hear me correctly. I don't want one live cow. I want a lot of cows. My girls need to eat. As soon as possible."

She's silent for a few moments, but nods. "I will have cows for you in a few hours."

"Thanks."

"Good day, Owen."

"Bye."

Claire exits the bungalow, and he glances down to see that the folder is still there. He's afraid to touch it in case she comes back for it since he isn't sure if he should look at it. While he waits to see if she's really gone, he finishes the macaroni. When that's done, he puts the Tupperware in the sink and walks to the door.

Her car is nowhere to be seen.

Owen takes a breath and walks back to the table. He pulls the file folder and flips through to see the grainy pictures of the stranger. How does someone get near the paddock undetected? Who is that skilled? InGen keeps tight security.

A knock on the door startles him, and he drops the folder as Barry walks in.

"Owen!" he exclaims with a grin. "It is good to see you walking around without a cane."

"Nice not to be a gimp anymore," he replies and settles back in his seat from earlier. Pulling the file toward him, he looks up. "Thanks, Bar."

The man settles across from him and his brow quirks. "For what?"

Owen gestures across his house. "For all this. You took care of me; the food is delicious, the place is clean—except you cleaned off my mac and cheese burner. All of it has really helped."

Barry shakes his head. "That was not me. I thought InGen had been taking care of you. They did provide you with the Vicodin needed to relieve the pain."

He bites the inside of his cheek. Something about the situation seems off to him. Really off, but he can't place his finger on it.

"We have lost a lot of staff," Barry says softly. "It will be good to have you back."

"How many?"

"We're down to thirteen," he answers. When Owen's jaw drops, he quickly adds, "Only three more were killed. The others left."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Owen sighs. "Are they being fed?"

"InGen says they are. Their ribs are highly visible, so I wonder."

"And the mysterious feeder?"

"I do not believe so," Barry says. "However, if they have, they are not doing a very good job of keeping the raptors healthy."

｡.•°•.｡ɹǝƃunH｡.•°•.｡

—Several hours earlier—

The monster in my stomach is loud tonight. Waiting by the circles in my cave, I sniff for Meat Bringer. I know the fleshling hasn't been around in several days, but I am still hopeful they'll return. I just hope they haven't disappeared like Alpha. Besides, if I don't get something soon, I may not wake up in the morning.

Alpha has not been seen, and I fear he is never to return. I haven't even scented him since one sun in the paddock when I saw him hobbling on three legs instead of walking on two. Kind Hand has been taking the lead—which Delta is more than happy about. It causes me to worry, though.

Turning from the holes, I walk back and forth in my cave. Sleep eludes me most nights now and dozing is terrifying. I still see things that have already happened. I am unsure why I am placed in what has been. I do not understand. Much like I don't understand why Alpha had to die.

Perhaps I do know the answer to that one, though. From what I've seen, it's the way of life. The fleshlings control us, but they are often foolish, and we can catch them. When they die, new ones take over. They become the new leaders. It is a circle I am not exactly fond of.

There's a rustle at the circles and I hope that life has arrived. Without a sound, I approach. My tail wags as the scent of meat reaches my nose. Meat Bringer has returned. I will make it through tonight. I will make it through tomorrow.

The scratch at my cave leads to the red flesh. There's not a lot, but it will quiet the animal in my stomach for a little while.

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