WEEEEEEEEE! WEE-WEE-WEE!
The piglet squealed in panic as I tore after it. Its pink rump bounced up and down rapidly, but the poor creature wasn't moving fast enough. I got close enough that I could have counted the hairs on its tail, though that was obviously not my plan. I opened my jaws, and-
"Claire! Hold!"
Owen.
I skidded to a halt. Well, a partial halt. I was still shuffling my paws and twitching with anticipation.
"That's good, that's damn good," he called out, "Now, do you think you can keep still?"
My feet danced on the dirt like it was hot coals.
"I'm trying, I'm tr-"
The piglet darted in front of me. I snapped my jaws.
"HEY!"
I tensed up, feeling my quills bristle, and forced my snout to point upwards, shutting my eyes tight. I shivered as I tried to block out the world around me. My senses were on fire, thanks to the adrenaline pumping through my veins.
"You, uh . . . You trying to hold up the sky?"
"No . . . Just staying still," I chirped.
"You look uncomfortable."
"I'm fine," I breathed through clenched teeth.
"Alright, well, can you open your eyes?"
I heard the piglet skittering around me. I wasn't sure if I could resist lashing out once I saw how close it was.
"Um . . . maybe?"
"Eyes on me."
That was a command. Like it or not, I had to try. My eyes shuddered open, twitching like a broken animatronic. I saw Owen standing on the catwalk above me, bathed in sunlight. His arm was up and out, so I focused on his hand. Gradually, I was able to stop myself from twitching.
"There we go. You feeling alright?"
"I'm fine. Just a little-"
I whipped my head around as the piglet darted past.
"HEY!"
"-distracted. I'm just a little distracted," I finished.
"Eyes on me."
I turned back to him.
"Good . . ."
Click-click-click.
Maybe it was a bit redundant to offer words of encouragement and use the clicker, but the reptile-minded part of me responded to the clear affirmation. Plus, the noise gave me spatial awareness, thanks to my echolocation and whatnot. Most of all, though, I was just glad that I was doing something right.
"I'm gonna count to five. I want you to hold that stance, okay?"
"Okay," I squeaked, ignoring the hoofbeats behind me.
"You ready?"
"Yes. Hurry."
He shook his head.
"We're not in a rush. Five seconds. You can do it. Okay?"
"Okay."
"One . . . Two . . . Three . . . Four . . . Four and a half . . ."
Oh, for Christ's sake!
"Four and three qu- Hey, don't give me that look! . . . Four point nine nine . . . and . . . FIVE!"
I let out a gusty breath, allowing my muscles to go limp. This moment of release was cut short by a sudden oink, which made me tense up, quills bristling once more.
"Watch it . . ." Owen warned me.
"I'm okay . . . I'm fine . . ." I drawled.
"Glad to hear it. Do you think you can face the pig?"
"Um . . ."
"Try."
I turned around slowly. The animal was digging its snout into the dirt, seemingly unaware that I was still a threat. I took a step forward.
"Claire!"
I winced.
"Sorry . . ."
"Don't apologize. Just do better."
I didn't answer. My eyes were fixed on the piglet, but I had somehow found the willpower to stand still.
"Atta girl. You ready for the gun?"
I was never ready for the gun. Regardless, Owen unclipped the weapon from his belt. When he turned it on, my gaze followed the red dot that crossed the wall. It made a squiggly motion.
"You gonna chase it, or what?"
"Not funny," I muttered under my breath.
The dot continued its journey until it landed on the piglet. Suddenly, I couldn't look away.
"Claire?"
"Mm-hm?" I squeaked.
"You're staring at the piglet."
"Am I?" I wheezed, eyes fixed forward.
"You are. Do you think you can stop that?"
I gulped.
"Y-yes? . . ."
My neck creaked to the side. Despite this, my eyes stayed pinned to my target for as long as possible, but I eventually forced them away. It took me a few seconds to get the animal out of my line of sight. I whimpered.
"That's great, Claire! Keep it up!"
I let out a relieved laugh.
"I'm doing it! I'm actually do-"
BREEBREEBREEBREEBREE-
"RHAAAGH!"
As I lunged forward, my world suddenly erupted into a confusing mess of soundwaves. I shook my head, snarling as Zia, Franklin, and Maisie banged pots and pans together from different corners of the paddock. Through the disorienting vibration of the walls, I noticed something pink running towards a small opening. I snarled and shot after it, face slamming into a closed door. I clawed at the metal for a good long time before I realized that someone was calling my name.
"Claire? . . . Claire? . . . CLAIRE!"
I froze, silencing the screech of my claws against the metal. Slowly, I turned around and saw Owen tapping his foot. I gulped and rubbed my wrist tenderly.
"What was my time?"
Franklin held up his watch.
"Sorry, I didn't catch it. You were too fast for me."
I groaned, slumping to the ground and placing my paws over my face.
"Great . . ."
Owen jogged over to where I was lying, grabbing a metal bucket off the railing along the way.
"Hey, don't feel bad. We did better than yesterday."
He rummaged through the container.
"What do you want? Fish heads, beef jerky-"
"No meat," I insisted.
"Alright, then how about some celery? Or . . ."
He held up a carrot.
"Look what I found . . ." he singsonged, shaking the vegetable with an open-mouthed smile.
I looked down, rumbling sadly.
"I don't deserve a carrot . . ."
He smiled with pity and tossed it down. I snapped it up, chewing resentfully.
"Don't be so hard on yourself, Claire. You did good," Owen assured me.
"Yeah, right up until I tried to eviscerate a baby pig," I grumbled.
He exhaled and ran his fingers through his hair.
"Yeah, we seem to be having problems with the gun, but you're improving on that, too."
"Barely."
He smiled warmly.
"Come on, Claire. You should be proud. You're getting better and better every day. I'm proud of you."
Despite everything, that made me feel a little better, even if it wasn't deserved.
"That little piggy's gonna live to see another day, thanks to your improvement. He'll be telling all of his friends about you, back in the Hundred Acre Wood . . ."
"Yeah, well, he almost didn't make it to the market, Owen."
He shrugged.
"'Almost' is the difference between life and death, Claire. Don't take your victory for granted."
"You were brilliant, Claire!" Maisie piped up as she skipped down the catwalk, "Much better than last time!"
I huffed and crossed my arms.
"Maisie, I'm considering not letting you watch these sessions. If something goes wrong-"
"It won't. You're a good dinosaur."
She tugged on Owen's sleeve.
"Can I feed her a rat?"
I rolled my eyes.
"Maisie, I am NOT going to eat a r-"
I cut off, snapping the rodent out of the air as it fell. Maisie giggled as I tapped my toes sourly.
"Very funny . . ."
She reached for another treat, but Owen held her hand back.
"Hey, now. Don't you be spoiling her appetite. She hasn't had breakfast yet."
"Can you tell Moonwatcher to stop feeding me fish heads?" I grumbled.
"Fair enough, but you're gonna have to eat SOME meat, at least. You're an omnivore, don't forget."
"Yeah, but meat makes me think of-"
I broke off, not wanting Maisie to bear witness to this particular conversation. I nodded to the paddock door.
"Can I have a word with you, Owen?"
He nodded, sending Maisie over to Iris, who had been reading an embroidery magazine in the shade. Owen made his way to the staircase and pattered down. A set of bars separated us, but he wasn't afraid to reach through them and rub my snout.
"Hey, is everything okay?"
I sighed.
"I don't know. I'm trying my best, but . . ."
He scratched my chin.
"Hey. Nobody's expecting you to change overnight. Don't beat yourself up over it."
As he ran his hand over my front horn, I let myself believe his assertions. After all, I must have improved significantly since I started out, if I could let him touch my muzzle like this.
(But I could totally bite his hand of right now, if I wanted to.)
And there it was. No matter how hard I tried to dull my urges, those violent flashes always turned up in one form or another.
Owen noticed the look in my eyes and withdrew his hand.
"Too much for one day?"
"I'm starting to lose my grip again."
The look on his face made me regret admitting that.
"But only for now!" I added quickly, "It's just that I'm tired, and the training wore down on me a little."
He nodded.
"Let me know if I push you too far. I know you're hard on yourself, but I'm only a notch below you on that front. I don't want to do more harm than good."
"Well, the harder you are on me, the faster I'll get better."
"That's not how it works."
I supposed he was right, but I didn't want him to be. In a perfect world, more effort would mean more positive results, but living creatures are a bit more complicated than input/output.
"Is there anything I could be doing better?" Owen asked.
Many things leapt to mind. First, less fish heads and rats. The Indoraptor part of my brain didn't mind the taste, but it wasn't the kind of thing that I should be getting used to. And normalizing it around Maisie was an even worse idea. I wasn't a pet, and treating me like one could encourage bad habits, both in me and my caretakers. Second, many of our training exercises felt infantilizing, or worse, dehumanizing. Owen spoke to me like I was too simple-minded to understand what I was being taught to do. It was like asking a university graduate how many apples Joe has if he gives two of five to his friends. Worse still, this carried over to our everyday lives. Owen had used the clicker two days ago during an evening out, excusing his actions by explaining that training didn't end when we left the paddock; as long as my brain was acting up, it needed to be treated as a work in progress. I suppose he was right, but it was humiliating to receive stares from the other patrons of the restaurant. And finally, I didn't like the way he looked at me when I explained my situation to him. Violent as my impulses were, I didn't choose what thoughts flashed through my disturbed mind, and it wasn't like I had acted on the majority of them. I wanted him to understand that telling him about these instances was not a promise that I'd live out my fantasies. I was just stating the facts, and on rare occasions, warning him not to push me any further. If anything, me keeping quiet about my feelings would put him at risk. I would always feel ashamed of my condition, but part of me knew that it wasn't my fault, and treating the truth as taboo was not going to help either of us.
"Claire?"
"You're the trainer. You know what's best."
Yeah, that's about how I expected it to go. I wondered if I'd ever reach a breaking point, if all of my emotions would come bubbling to the surface and force an eruption. I promised myself not to let it get that far. If things got really dire, I'd be honest with Owen, difficult though it may be.
He smiled.
"You know, you're doing a lot better than my raptors. It took years to get them to follow my commands."
"Great. I'm doing better than a bunch of wild animals," I snarked.
"It may not sound like high praise, but they were pretty intelligent. Blue, especially. You're at least twice as smart as she was."
I shook my head.
"No, not smart. I know what I'm supposed to do, but it's the instinct that's getting in my way."
"Right, so I'm teaching you-"
"Obedience?"
Yikes. It didn't sound very healthy when I phrased it like that.
"I mean . . . self-control. You're teaching me self-control."
"Sure."
He detected a drop in my spirits and reached through the bars, caressing my cheeks.
"You know, you're looking a little greener."
"Yeah, right."
"No, it's true! You probably don't notice it, since it seems gradual from your point of view, but you're greener than before, and your quills are getting shorter."
I gave a noncommittal hum.
"According to my most recent blood sample, I'm point five percent closer to being a pure Stegoceratops."
"That's great!"
"I guess it's something, but I wasn't too happy when Moonwatcher first told me. It's one thing to wonder about how well you're doing, but it's another thing entirely to measure your progress empirically. And point five wasn't the number I was hoping for."
"Don't let the math get you down," Owen cooed, "You'll only hold yourself back by psyching yourself out."
"It could serve as motivation . . ."
He quirked a brow.
"Claire Dearing, if I've learned one thing about you, it's that you're a self-destructive perfectionist. Don't drive yourself into the ground in the name of achieving a high score. Go at a comfortable pace, and you'll improve faster than if you try to force it."
I sighed.
"Maybe."
"Hey," he asserted, "Numbers don't mean anything. It's what's in here that counts."
He pointed at my chest.
"Wrong side, Owen."
He moved his finger.
"Here, then."
"How do you not know where the heart is?" I gawked.
"Well, you're facing me, so-"
"Right, right. It almost ruined the moment, though."
"Well, you didn't have to correct me . . ."
I smiled.
"You got your point across anyway."
He laughed.
"I guess you could say that my heart was in the right pl-"
I leaned forward to kiss his cheek. He flinched, expecting an attack, but when he realized what I was doing, he leaned in. I nuzzled his ear.
Click-click-click.
"Owen!"
He laughed.
"Just kidding . . ."
I rolled my eyes.
"God, you're SO obnoxious!"
He tickled my chin.
"I thought you wanted feedback . . ." he cooed.
"I do, but only on my performance . . . in the paddock," I snarked, sensing an impending quip just in time.
"Well, in that case, I'd give you a solid C," he beamed.
My jaw dropped.
"Only a C?!"
He shrugged weakly.
"Maybe a C-plus."
A third voice chimed in.
"Add another plus, and she'll render beautifully."
I turned and saw Moonwatcher trotting over merrily. Although she spoke cheerfully, I detected exhaustion in her voice. In hindsight, I should have started asking more questions right then and there, but I couldn't have known . . .
"You've been gone awhile," Owen remarked.
She shrugged casually.
"Yeah, well, I had to deal with that . . . thingy. Turns out, it was a false alarm."
"What-"
"It's nothing to worry about," she interrupted, "Like I said, false alarm. There was a miscommunication, and I panicked, but nothing actually happened."
"No?"
"Nope," she squeaked, "Everything's normal."
Owen scanned my figure.
"If this is 'normal' for you, I'd hate to see what you consider 'out of the ordinary'."
Although his remark wasn't meant to offend me, I felt my heart skip. Accurate though it may be, the statement carried with it a lot of implications. This twinge didn't go unnoticed by Owen, who caught sight of my betrayed expression.
"But we're taking the necessary steps to get things back to the way they were before," he added.
I forced a smile. As it turned out, that twang in my heart hadn't gone away, but had instead mutated into a hollow ache. I couldn't help but feel as though Owen had let the mask slip a bit, and it wasn't the first time. But it was ridiculous to get upset, I reminded myself, because he was absolutely right. I was abnormal, in just about every way a person could be. Did I actually expect him to go on loving me in this state?
Did I want him to?
I shook the thought. It was just my dinosaur brain trying to take over. Of course I didn't want him to love me. How could I trust a man who was drawn to a horrifying monster such as myself? It was a good thing that he wasn't attracted to me like this. He had the moral high ground, and once I had purged every last strand of Indoraptor DNA from my genetic makeup, he would love me again. That was why I needed to get better. I wanted to be loveable again. Everything was going according to plan.
So why did I feel like crying?
"You ready to head back?"
I realized that I had been tuning out the rest of the conversation. Bad sign. I was letting the little things get to me. I couldn't allow myself to follow these dangerous trains of thought if I wanted to get better. I was allowing my reptile-brain too much room to wander. Time to give its leash a good yank.
"I'm ready."
Owen pressed a button to raise the gate. I waited until it was high enough to duck under and exited the paddock. As I lumbered onto the path, I heard something skittering nearby.
"ROAR!"
I tensed up, quills bristling, and wheeled around to face Maisie. She laughed until she noticed my paw shaking in the air. I had been ready to strike.
"Oh . . . I suppose I should stop scaring you, then," she said quietly.
I nodded with shame.
"That would probably be best . . . for now . . ."
Owen gave me the side-eye.
"We okay? . . ."
I took a deep breath.
"I'm okay."
I had come to discover something new about my impulses. Aside from the usual feeling of glee I experienced while imagining acts of violence, I was also plagued by subtler instincts that latched onto my regular emotions. Fear, anger, sorrow- everything, really- was now preceded by violent flashes. Even a few minutes ago, I had had a vision of tearing Owen apart, just for hurting my feelings. I wasn't sure what to make of these sentiments. It could be that my reptile-brain was poisoning already-existing thoughts, or else it was just my violent side looking for an excuse to manifest itself. The latter was more likely, given how eager I was to fight that monster in the jungle, but I could also be experiencing some weird, unceasing form of dinosaur PMS. And speaking of that strange creature in the jungle, I had received absolutely NO explanation for its existence. I tried to ask Moonwatcher several times, but she always replied with some variation of, "Don't worry about it," or, "It's all taken care of." Now, that alone was suspicious enough, but compared to how she usually addressed random occurrences . . . Well, let's just say that there was a huge discrepancy between her reactions. I was used to getting answers such as, "Oh, that's just our family counsellor, Alison. She was conceived via magic lesbian sex and has a glowing crest that puts people to sleep when she whistles at a specific frequency." If something like that could be hand-waved away like it was nothing, surely concealing details about unexplained Indoraptor-creatures meant that there was something rotten in the state of . . . Isla Nublar.
"Claire?"
I jumped.
"Sorry, I was just thinking about-"
Owen rubbed my snout.
"Claire, it's okay. We understand that you have no control over your impulses."
". . . thinking about that dinosaur in the jungle," I finished.
Owen gulped.
"Oh. Right. Sorry."
I turned to Moonwatcher.
"Did you ever find out where that thing came from?"
She laughed.
"You needn't be concerned with any of that. We have things under control."
Just what I expected.
***TSJWFKFEW***
When I returned to the lab, my fellow inmates were having lunch, with the exception of Eli, who consistently woke up so late in the day that afternoon meals were basically his breakfast. He was sipping gasoline from a jerrycan like he was taking his morning coffee in a juice box, but despite how ridiculous he looked, his pompous smirk got under my skin- or scales, as it were.
"Back from training already? I hope no one got eaten . . ."
I matched his snide tone, adding just a hint of icy confidence as I slipped into my cage.
"Oh, Eli, you know as well as I do that they'd never let that happen. Tell me, when they walk you, do they keep you on an electrified leash, or is it one of those cheap retractable ones they use on puppies?"
He snorted, puffing exhaust from his nostrils.
"They save all the fancy gadgets for you, Claire, because they can't count on you having any self-control."
I hummed, cocking my head and smiling condescendingly.
"Well, at least when I act out, it's an accident. You kill people on purpose."
He nodded.
"You're right. My actions are motivated. You murder for fun."
A lug nut bounced off his snout. He turned to glare at Owen, fumes pouring out from between his teeth.
"Watch it, buddy. You'll overheat."
Moonwatcher trotted up to Eli's cage.
"He's right, you know. This isn't a healthy way to vent your anger. Not a healthy way to vent exhaust, either. If you don't use the proper channels, you could suffocate or get bloated, and I am NOT paying for your medical bills . . ."
Owen quirked a brow.
"Does he have an exhaust pipe or something? . . ."
Moonwatcher nodded.
"Oh, yes. It's right by his-"
Eli snapped his jaws.
"Quiet, you!"
She put her hands on her hips.
"Friendo, you're gonna have to let it out eventually. I may take you on drives to charge your battery, but I'm not gonna cater to your insecurities by releasing you when you can't hold it in anymore."
As Eli's frown deepened, Owen's curiosity intensified.
"What do you mean? Why would he hold it in?"
"Eli's exhaust pipe is-"
He revved his engine.
"I'm warning you . . ."
She snickered.
"It's located-"
"STOP IT!"
". . . in his anus."
I took a closer look, and sure enough, there was a metal tube poking out of his rear. I'm not usually one for potty humour, but this was too perfect. I burst out laughing.
"Oh my god!" I squealed, "Eli has a pole up his ass!"
He tucked his tail between his legs self-consciously.
"Shut up! I didn't ask to be built this way!"
Owen snorted.
"I sure hope not! Hey, Claire, why don't you stick a potato up there and see if he backfires?"
The room echoed with laughter. Even Wheatley- he was the robot-armed Indoraptor in the cage behind mine, I had discovered- got in on the action.
"Gasoline goes in one end, gas comes out the other! Hey, what's your fuel efficiency like? Do you emit toxic fumes, or are you one of those fancy hybrids?"
He laughed at his own joke, and I did too, not because I found it particularly funny, but because I knew it was getting to Eli. Aside from the crested hybrid, who never really reacted to anything, he was the only person in the room who wasn't having a good laugh. He wheeled around (Ha! "Wheeled.") and parked in the corner of his cage, facing away from us.
"Shut up."
I have to say, despite the fact that he was practically (and literally) an inhuman monster, there was a brief flicker of pity in my heart, seeing him like that. If it had been anyone else, our teasing would have been unnecessarily cruel, but he deserved it. Didn't that make it okay?
I shook the thought as Owen walked up to my cage for a quick goodbye.
"I'm taking Maisie to the pool this afternoon, but we'll stop by later, if we have time. Otherwise, I'll see you tomorrow."
I smiled.
"See you."
I leaned forward for a kiss. He pecked my snout, and I very nearly licked his cheek. I was pretty sure that it was the Stegoceratops part of my brain that came up with that idea, since I didn't intend to hurt him in any way, but I realized that without context, it would seem like I was sneaking a taste of my prey. Besides, it was a little weird to lick someone, even if that someone was Owen. Maybe it was more acceptable for dinosaurs to lick people, but I wasn't exactly eager to become more dinosaur-ish, regardless of how sentient they may be in this world. I was a prisoner in this body, and I didn't want to get comfortable with it, especially since it was only a temporary accommodation.
I hoped.
***TSJWFKFEW***
I awoke to a strange chemical smell. It was stale, but still pungent, and it made the roof of my mouth burn. I sniffed the air until my gaze fell on Eli's cage. The floor was splotched with damp, blue patches. To my surprise, Eli was awake, and as such, I couldn't resist giving him a poke.
"Well, well, well, someone's been leaking . . ."
He grunted.
"Radiator's busted."
"Been holding in too much exhaust?"
He sighed and rolled onto his back.
"You're such a cunt, Claire."
"Coming from you, that's a compliment," I twittered, "But in all seriousness, you should probably get that checked out. I don't know what kind of fluid is seeping out of you-"
"It's from my radiator, I said!"
I was taken aback by his sudden defensiveness. Nothing I'd said was particularly inflammatory, or at least not compared to everything else. What was he so upset about?
"Alright, alright," I conceded, "It's none of my business, anyway."
"No, it's not."
"Mhm. So I'll just mind my own business."
"Please do."
"Fine."
"Yes. Fine."
I wondered if I'd struck a nerve yesterday. He seemed to be genuinely hurt by my remarks, or at least peeved by them, and while I didn't particularly care about sparing his feelings, I did feel a little bit guilty. If I didn't take the moral high ground, I'd be no better than him- Well, okay, I'd still be miles ahead of him, but it was still a mean thing to do, insulting him like that. Maybe I shouldn't make fun of his car-parts anymore. I had stockpiled at least twenty jokes- all of them golden, by the way- but attacking him over something he couldn't control was kind of a low blow. Besides, it wasn't his vehicular features that I took issue with, but rather, the fact that he was a total ass-wipe. Joking about his appearance might get on his nerves temporarily, but it was counterproductive in the long run. I wanted him to know why I hated him, and in doing so, prove that I had a stronger moral compass, and that I didn't have to resort to petty invectives for ammo. There was plenty to dislike about Eli Mills on a fundamental level, and I didn't want him to get away with that villainy.
I jumped as Moonwatcher burst through the doors.
"Morning, Claire! There's been a change of plans. You and I are going on a field trip."
***TSJWFKFEW***
When Moonwatcher said "field trip," what she meant to convey was that we were taking a trip to a literal field. We trudged through the ankle-high grass, which swayed under a gentle breeze.
"Owen told me about your dietary issues, so I decided to provide you with a more natural alternative. The Stegoceratops part of you is a herbivore, so I've hired another herbivore to teach you how to eat grass and shit. You remember Gunnar Eversoll?"
"Gunnar Eversol?" I echoed.
"It's spelled with two L's, Claire."
I scrunched up my nose.
"Wait, how did you-"
"Shoosh. Nevermind that. Listen, he was the guy auctioning off all those dinosaurs, only now he IS a dinosaur, but not, like, an Indoraptor, because he was too digested to be salvaged in his original form. We brought him back as an Agathadon."
"Agath-"
"Hybrid dinosaur. Stop interrupting."
I frowned.
"Continue."
She tossed her hair over her shoulder.
"Since he was dead, and thus didn't need to be reintegrated into the canon, we decided to bring him here."
"Why?"
"What do you mean, 'why'?"
"Well, if you really do go to all the trouble to bring people back from the dead, I'd hope you have a good reason for doing so."
"Nope. Not really."
"So why do it?"
"We don't have anything to lose by saving him, and it's always nice to make new friends."
I snuffed.
"I'm not sure he's the kind of friend you should be making . . ."
"Yeah, well, second chances, and all . . . I'm actually surprised by how easily he turned. Most of the time, rehabilitating villains takes time, resources . . . violent persuasion."
She mumbled that last example.
"But with Gunnar, we didn't even have to bring out the bamboo shoots."
When I shot her a concerned look, she smiled brightly.
"We, uh, we use bamboo shoots to . . . to tickle them . . . under the fingernails . . . until they break . . ."
I hoped she was joking, but I didn't get a chance to ask.
"Anyway, here we are. Gunnar's gonna teach you to eat properly. Run free, Claire. Go and stuff your ugly face until you're an adorably rotund ball of scales and lard."
I never quite know how to respond to Moonwatcher when she says stuff like that, but in this case, I did as I was told. As I made my way down the hill, I saw a herbivore standing in the field, grazing peacefully. It was the teal-colored ceratopsian from the lab. When I was close enough for him to hear me coming, he lifted his head, cheeks full of vegetation. His eyes widened at the sight of a partial-predator approaching. Cud fell from his mouth as his jaw dropped, and he turned to run.
"Hello!" I called out timidly.
He stumbled, then turned to face me, still shaking.
"Are you . . . Are you Claire?" he quavered.
"Mhm. Did Moonwatcher tell you I was coming?"
He gulped.
"Yes, but . . . Well, I was expecting someone like me, not a- uh- whatever you are."
I forced a laugh.
"Well, I may be part carnivore, but I'm mostly a vegetarian. Like, over sixty percent? . . ."
He blinked. I waited for a reply, but received none. I gave a bright, toothy smile.
"So . . . why don't we get started?"
He nodded slowly.
"Okay . . ."
When he didn't continue, I looked from side to side.
"Aren't you- Aren't you going to teach me to graze or something?"
He shifted uncomfortably.
"Well, all you do is bend down, take a mouthful of grass, and . . . chew."
"Oh . . . right . . ."
I did exactly that, but I somehow managed to uproot a huge clump of dirt. Gunnar stared at me, then shook his head.
"You went in with too much force. You can't pull up directly. What you wanna do is kind of tilt your head to the side and tear it out. Tilt and tear, tilt and tear . . ."
Jesus Christ, I was so above this. I didn't need a lesson on how to eat grass.
Another mouthful of dirt proved me wrong. I spat it out and wiped my mouth with embarrassment.
"Hey, don't be discouraged if you don't get it the first time," he said gently, "I know it looks easy, but that's why you're overthinking it. It's only as hard as you allow it to be. Let your instincts drive you, and you'll get it, I promise."
It took a few tries before I got it right. When I came up with torn grass in my beak, Gunnar smiled.
"There you go. It takes practice, but once you get into a rhythm, you won't have any trouble at all."
Oddly enough, he was right. I found myself getting lost in the tilt-and-tear pattern, and soon, I was grazing like . . . Well, like a dinosaur, I suppose. I was glad to finally have some decent sustenance, since my hunger had been fuelling my murderous impulses to some degree, but I couldn't help but feel as though this was nothing to celebrate. I didn't realize that I had stopped grazing until Gunnar looked up with worry.
"You okay? . . ."
I exhaled slowly and shook my head.
"This isn't right."
He backed away nervously.
"L-Look, if you have a craving for meat, you're legally obligated to tell m-"
"No, it's not that," I said, "I'm just upset that it's come to this."
"Come to what?"
"Grazing in a meadow."
He batted his eyes with surprise.
"Really? This is all I could ever hope for."
I cocked my head.
"Huh?"
He shrugged.
"Well, maybe it seems odd to people like you, but in my past life, I only lived for one thing: money. And the reason I wanted that money was so I could live comfortably. Well, now I'm a dinosaur, and I have no use for money, but I'm living comfortably all the same. There's no stress, no pressure . . . just a field full of grass. It's like a permanent vacation."
I narrowed my eyes.
"And you're . . . okay with that? You want to graze for the rest of your life?"
He thought it through.
"Well, I also roll around in the sunlight, but yes, I'm happy with my current situation."
I was baffled.
"Why? . . . How? . . ."
He hummed.
"Well, like I said, I have everything I need, everything I want. I'm free to do as I please. I finally got what I was working towards, all those years."
I frowned with disapproval.
"Was it worth breaking the law, just to get a field full of grass?"
He chuckled.
"Claire, if you think the legality of what I was doing was the biggest problem, you're being naïve."
"Am I?" I asked icily.
He sighed, turning his eyes to the sky.
"Claire, the law isn't always just or fair. It's no barometer for morality. But I've caused a lot of harm, I'll give you that much. I can only guess at the scope of my influence, but I imagine some of the arms I sold off ended up in the wrong hands. That's not to say it was wrong solely because it was illegal. I know for a fact that the U.S. government has done far worse, and they only get away with it because they're the ones who decide what's 'illegal' and what's not. As for me, I was just in it for the money."
"That's selfish."
He nodded.
"I don't need reminding. Listen, Claire, I get the feeling that you think very little of me, and maybe with good reason, but whatever your feelings are about my past actions, I can assure you that I have no desire to return to my former position. I'm out, plain and simple."
"But you haven't done anything to fix your mistakes."
He shook his head.
"No, I haven't, but I don't intend to make any more. I'm not a bad person, Claire, or at least not when I'm well taken care of. I had no political motivations, no desire for conquest . . . it was all just a means to an end. And maybe to you, that makes me a monster, but I think we both know that there's more to every monster's story than just acting evil for the sake of it."
My face softened. Gunnar sat on his rump, then folded his arms across his chest, lying on his belly like a cat.
"I'm not perfect, Claire, but if left to my own devices, I don't have to be a bother. Maybe that's selfish, I don't know, but as far as I'm concerned, I'm not hurting anyone right now, and as long as I stay in my field, that won't ever change."
"But you can't do this forever . . ."
"Why not?"
"Because you're not the only person on this island. You're gonna have to interact with people at some point."
"I know. I'm doing that now, and there doesn't seem to be a problem."
I shook my head.
"I'm just one person, but there's a whole community of dinosaurs out there, and you can't ignore them forever."
He swallowed.
"They don't need me. There's no reason to get involved with them."
"Well . . . what about having an active social life?"
"Don't need one. Never had one."
"I find that hard to believe. Didn't you have friends before turning into a dinosaur?"
He shrugged.
"I had clients, but that's not exactly the same thing."
"Ah. Well, were you close with any of them?"
"Yes and no. We knew each other well, but only interacted for business purposes. They wouldn't come looking for me now, let's put it that way."
"How do you know?"
"Because they haven't."
"Oh."
He stared at the ground for a moment, then stood up to graze.
"No one needs me, and it's probably better that way. I'd only cause trouble by getting involved, so as far as I'm concerned, I'm a neutral party."
I bit my beak.
"So if someone asked for help, you wouldn't give it to them?"
He snorted.
"Claire, I'm not completely heartless. I have no qualms with giving directions or finding lost pets. I'm just not keen to attend potluck parties or play poker, that's all. But if someone needs me, unlikely as that may be, I'm not about to say 'no'. Why would I be helping you, otherwise?"
I looked down.
"Ah . . ."
He let his tail drop to the ground.
"Claire, you don't have to agree with me. I'm not trying to convince you that my way is right. I just want to be left alone, that's all, for everyone's sake."
"Okay. I get it."
He clamped down on a patch of grass, but let it go almost immediately.
"You still think I'm being malicious, and it's bugging me."
I started.
"No, no. It's just-"
He groaned.
"Look, Claire, I know I've aligned myself with some morally questionable people in the past. Eli Mills, he was in it for the money too, but it was driving his egotism and thirst for power. I don't know who the hell he was trying to impress, but he's a lot less talented than he believes himself to be. I get the impression that he's the kind of guy who gets so wrapped up in one idea that it doesn't occur to him to follow it to its conclusion. He wanted to weaponize dinosaurs, you know, but the real goldmine was genetic power in general. Infuse a human soldier with dinosaur DNA, and you got yourself a powerful weapon. Much more dangerous than just taping a gun to a velociraptor or whatever the hell he had planned. But Eli didn't think of that, because in many ways, he's small-minded. And I had no desire to help him along, obviously, so I didn't suggest anything. I was in it for the money, and nothing more. I'm no moustache-twirler. Not like Eli or his flunkies . . . Well, for all I know, they're just being strung along, too. I'm not sure they're criminal masterminds, themselves."
He was right. The other day, Wheatley had bashed his head into the wall to smoosh a fly that kept landing on his nose. Not exactly machiavellian.
"I almost feel bad for the guy," Gunnar continued, "He clearly didn't know what he was doing. It's no surprise things turned sour."
"I guess we both suffered from his actions, huh?" I remarked.
Gunnar shook his head.
"Not at all. I mean, I didn't particularly enjoy being eaten by a dinosaur, but I'm happy with the way things turned out. Like I said, this is all I ever wanted."
"What about a friend? . . ."
He smiled.
"It's kind of you to offer, but I don't want to be a burden. We probably wouldn't get along, anyway."
"Oh."
"But if you want us to be friendly acquaintances, I wouldn't mind having someone to graze with from time to time."
I returned his smile.
"Sounds like a plan. I'm gonna need a lot of grass to keep this body going."
He sucked a dandelion through his pursed beak.
"Oh, that reminds me. Moonwatcher told me to keep an eye on you because you might have an eating disorder."
I gawked at him.
"WHAT?!"
"I don't know where she got that idea . . . Hey, do you find her a bit . . . odd?"
I growled.
"Understatement of the century."
***TSJWFKFEW***
Gunnar and I grazed until the afternoon. We discussed many things, having profound philosophical debates through the cud in our cheeks, but once we were full, we decided that it was time to part ways. Before we did, however, Gunnar led me into the woods to, quote, "let me in on a secret." I was afraid he might be referring to a murder-shed or something, but instead, we arrived at a clearing full of purple flowers. My heart fluttered. It was a thistle patch.
"Aren't they wonderful?" he gushed, "No one else comes here, except for me. I feel bad, hogging it all to myself like this, but they're just so good. It makes you wanna-"
He lunged forward and chomped on one of the buds. His eyes rolled up, and he started drooling profusely as his cheeks went to work.
"Dey're sho bulbush," he slobbered, bouncing gently on his front feet.
His thistle-induced gluttony came to an end when he noticed how quiet I had been.
"Claire? . . ."
Tears filled my eyes.
"Gunnar, how do you cope with the things you've done? . . ."
He tilted his head to one side.
"What do you mean?"
My throat wobbled.
"How do you go on living when your actions resulted in the loss of innocent life? How do you get past that?"
He looked out at the thistle patch.
"Well, to be perfectly honest . . . I haven't gotten past that, and I don't think I ever will."
I was taken aback by his reply. He smiled sadly.
"I'm sorry I can't offer a more comforting answer, Claire, but the truth is, you've found me out. It's true that I'm happy with the life I'm living now, but I'm pretty sure nothing will ever erase my guilt, and truth be told, I'm afraid there's no point in trying. What good can possibly come from my redemption? No one needs me. No one even wants me. It may seem selfish to live out the rest of my days in isolation, but what's worse is fantasizing about finding a place in the same society I exploited. How can I hope for love when I've done nothing to deserve it? How can I try to win those people back when I'm only doing it for my own personal benefit? I'd rather stay here, lonely as I may be, than seek out something I haven't earned."
My mouth was dry.
"So you won't even try to make up for the things you've done?"
He shook his head, eyes suddenly distant.
"I don't know if anything I do will ever be enough, and I'd rather not find out."
That wasn't the answer I was hoping for. As we made our way out of the forest, neither of us said a word. For the first time, I sensed pain in Gunnar's heart, and it was like looking into a mirror. What if he was right? What if we couldn't be redeemed? The thought terrified me.
"Hey!"
I looked up. Owen was jogging towards us.
"You ready for another training session?"
I nodded, ignoring the voice in the back of my mind that kept asking if there was even a point.
***TSJWFKFEW***
When we reached the gate, Owen stepped through with me. I froze in my tracks, but it didn't faze him.
"We're gonna try something different, okay?"
"Different? . . ." I echoed.
"This is going to be a hands-on session."
My jaw dropped.
"You're not planning on staying in here with me, are you?"
"Yup."
I sputtered.
"Owen, bad idea! I can't do this!"
"Sure, you can. I trust you."
I held his gaze.
"Then trust me when I say that I can't do this . . ."
He frowned.
"Claire Dearing, do you want to make progress, or not?"
I gulped.
"I do, but-"
"Then you'll do as I say."
I'm afraid there's no point in trying.
"Claire? . . ."
I let out a long breath. No, I was nothing like Gunnar. I could still do this.
"I'm ready."
The training proceeded as usual. It wasn't too different from the last time, except I kept getting distracted by Owen's proximity . . .
"Claire!"
I snapped my head to the side. Owen held out his hand.
"Eyes on me. I don't want you looking at that pig, okay?"
"O-okay."
(Two options. Two kills.)
"I said, eyes on me!"
(You need to be able to see him to catch him . . .)
I backed away, covering my eyes.
"Owen . . ."
"Claire, you stop that right now. Eyes on me."
(Why are you resisting? What could you possibly lose by killing him?)
No one needs me.
(It's not like you're in a relationship anymore . . .)
No one even wants me.
"Eyes. On. Me."
(You're never getting better. Just let go. You'll be a lot happier.)
I don't know if anything I do will ever be enough, and I'd rather not find out.
"I'm not going to ask you again."
(He doesn't love you. He never will. You're a monster.)
"Last warning."
(Nothing you do will EVER be enough.)
"Three . . ."
(Give in.)
"Two . . ."
(Give up.)
"O-"
I dove to the side in a blur of teeth and claws. A shrill screech was cut short as I clamped my mouth shut, but I continued to scream internally. The piglet's body slipped from my mouth. When I released my jaw, so did its head. Everyone watched in stunned horror. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Maisie burying her face in Iris' side. Owen was frozen in place, pale as a sheet. He took a shallow breath and stepped towards me.
"Claire . . ."
"Get away from me."
"Claire, I-"
"GO AWAY!"
I tried to stop myself, but it was too late. My arm swept by in a flash, and I raked my claws across Owen's face. He stumbled backwards, bleeding from three deep lacerations. He reached up slowly and touched his bloody cheek. My face fell.
I barely had time to choke out his name before three darts hit my neck, and the world turned to black.
***TSJWFKFEW***
When I woke up, I didn't bother moving. I just lay on my side, staring down at the lab's concrete floor and awaiting my execution. I had really blown it. There was no doubt they'd put me down for this. I had failed.
I continued to stare ahead blankly, even as the doors parted. I could tell that it was Owen by the way his footsteps sounded- I had eagerly awaited them many a morning- but I wasn't excited to see him now. I just felt empty.
He slowed to a stop beside my cage.
"Hey, Claire. You okay?"
I let my eyes meet his, raising my snout a little. My heart sunk at the sight of his red-streaked face. Those claw marks would probably scar him for life.
"You're not the one who should be asking," I whispered.
He gulped and ran his fingers through his hair.
"It's not as bad as it looks. They only used fourteen stitches."
I had nothing to say to that. I fixed my gaze on the concrete once more.
"I pushed you too far, yesterday," Owen continued, "I should have known better than to ignore your advice. You tried to warn me, but I wouldn't listen. I was so eager to make you feel like you were doing well . . . I shouldn't have overstepped my bounds."
"You were only doing what you thought was right," I said quietly, "I have no excuse."
Owen shrugged.
"Well, you kind of do. But either way, I'll accept partial blame."
Silence. He took a deep breath.
"Look, if you need to cool down, take all the time you need. I don't want to force you. But I'll be waiting for you in the paddock, whenever you're ready."
"Are you going to electrocute me?"
He pulled his head back with surprise.
"The hell? Of course not!"
"Poison, then?"
He frowned.
"Claire, what reason could I possibly have to poison you during training?"
I lifted my head.
"Training? You mean, you're not putting me down?"
His jaw dropped.
"Claire, why on earth would I put you down? . . ."
"Because I mauled you."
He snorted.
"'Mauled?' Claire, this is barely a scratch. You should see what the raptors did to me . . ."
I wasn't buying it. He gave me guilty smile and cocked his head.
"Did you really expect me to put you down?"
"Yes."
He clicked his tongue.
"Gee, that's a bad sign. Do you really think I'm the kind of person who sends my loved ones to the electric chair for a little accident?"
"It wasn't little."
"And you're not a rabid dog," he countered, "Claire, I wouldn't kill someone I love over something like this."
He smiled coyly.
"I'm a better man than you think I am."
Before I could roll my eyes, he lifted my chin with his finger.
"And you're a better woman than you think you are."
He kissed me on the beak, and I melted. Suddenly, my doubt evaporated. And so did my restraint, apparently.
I licked his cheek.
"Okay, maybe you are part dog . . ."
I smiled.
"In that case, we'd better keep training."