Disclaimer: I do not own the Jurassic Park/World franchise or any of it's characters; I only own the characters and plots of my own mind.
29. Got Your Back
Gwyn had taken a minute to sort herself out in the bathroom, even though it felt like she didn't have a minute to spare. It was at Owen's insistence, really, saying that if she was out of sorts and unfocused, she wouldn't be on top of her game. And they both knew that not being on top of one's game in these sorts of situations could mean death. That was why Gwyn had taken a minute to scrub the drying mud off the backs of her legs, comb her hair with her fingers, and splash her face and neck with soapy water. So instead of smelling like gasoline––or smelling too heavily of it––she smelled more like sweat and hand soap. Really, she just smelled like she'd been working on her call all afternoon. The last thing Gwyn did was bend over the sink, cup her hand under the faucet, and catch some water. She slurped it into her mouth, swished it around, and spat it right back out.
Upon looking back up into the mirror, Gwyn noted she looked a little more put together. Her hair was a little less tangled, and color was returning to her cheeks. Her mouth didn't taste like vomit anymore, and the smell of gasoline was more subdued. But there was still a wildness behind her eyes that was borne of anxiety and stress. Both of her hands rose to rub at those eyes, a groan pushing past her lips. When they dropped away, they grasped the edge of either side of the sink, and she leaned towards the mirror. The corners of her mouth were dipped into what now felt like a perpetual frown. In that frown she saw her father, and that made Gwyn's heart lurch. For as much as she planned on making it off the island alive––something she hadn't thought possible at the age of eleven––there was still a chance she wouldn't if things escalated.
So Gwyn's hand drifted down to her pocket, inside of which her phone still sat, having somehow managed to stay put throughout the running she'd done. But upon pulling it from her pocket, it was evident that a large, new crack had cut across the screen. With her thumb, she tapped into her texts and opened the most recent one from Alan. She stared at the screen and considered what to do. She could call. She could text. But, in either sense, what would she say? Gwyn wanted to say something just in case, but she didn't want to frighten him. So her thumb quickly darted across the screen to tap out the easiest thing she could think of.
I love you.
With a quaking exhale, and suddenly glassy eyes, Gwyn stared down at the simple message. Those three words held so much weight, even if Alan wouldn't realize it yet. It was Gwyn making sure that her father would know and remember that she loved him, should something go wrong. But it was something that he would find innocuous until he discovered what had happened on Isla Nublar that morning––because he would find out. A dinosaur devouring six people wasn't something that didn't make its way out to the public, no matter how hard the company might try and sweep it under the rug. The world would know in a matter of hours, whether it be because a disaster was avoided, or because another one occurred. Gwyn tapped the send button and pocketed her phone, which sat like a rock in her pocket.
After composing herself again, Gwyn left the bathroom and started to make her way through the Innovation Center. It was hard not to grab every person she passed and tell them that they needed to leave. That they needed to abandon their things in their hotel rooms, head for the docks, and get off the island while they still could. To Gwyn, it felt like she was walking across a minefield. The smiling faces made her stomach clench, the excited laughter made her flinch. Because she knew that it all could go wrong in the snap of one's fingers. The smiling would turn to horror, the laughter to screams. But telling anyone about that would incite a panic, and a panic would only cause more problems.
Upon descending the stairs to the main lobby, Gwyn found herself surprisingly able to hide her anxieties. Or, perhaps, it was evident in how quick she walked, or how she kept adjusting articles of clothing or sweeping hair out of her face. Nevertheless, she kept a straight face as she walked, trying to smile at people who smiled at her, inclined her head to co-workers she passed. Gwyn wondered, briefly, if this was how officers on the Titanic felt when they knew the ship would sink. If there was a kind of dread in knowing in a few hours everything they knew would be gone, but that they had to smile through it in an attempt to keep people calm and unknowing. Because that was exactly how she felt.
When Gwyn reached the bottom of the stairs, she spotted Owen and Claire huddled off to the side. Claire looked distressed, and Owen was listening to her with furrowed brows and hands on his hips. Gwyn slipped through the growing crowd––which was all thanks to the announcement that everything north of the resort was closed––and made her way towards them.
"Hey," she greeted, stepping up beside the two. Her voice had a slight rasp to it, thanks to the tears and the vomiting. Her appearance formed a triangle of sorts, and caused the other two to angle themselves towards her. Gwyn was mildly thrown by the look of relief that swept over Claire's face at her arrival. The redhead clasped her hands under her chin and her eyes felt shut, which cast a fresh tear along her cheek. Only ten minutes before, Claire had been standing in front of her with a mask of forced indifference and professionalism; now, it appeared that something had broken within her. The change was enough to send Gwyn's eyebrows into a furrow.
"Oh, thank god––I need your help, Gwyn, please," Claire pleaded, voice trembling and on the verge of cracking.
Gwyn felt her eyes narrow a little. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her shorts and let her weight cock her hip to the side. "And what would you need my help with? You seemed pretty set without my help back in the control room."
Claire squeezed her eyes shut again, this time self-reprimanding, and pursed her lips tightly. She flung her hands out from under her chin and held them out stiffly in front of herself. "I know, I know, and I'm sorry. But, look, my nephews are lost out in the field a-and I need someone who's been in a situation like that before, and Owen said he can only do so much with tracking––"
Gwyn threw a hand up, brows having started to crinkle together again. "How do you mean lost in the field?" she asked. The thumping of her heart started to become more prominent; it pounded against her ribcage unforgivingly. The idea of two children, lost 'in the field' was a frightening notion. Because 'the field' was where Ingrid was. 'The field' had been where Gwyn––as a child––had experienced the horrors that haunted her to that day. There were synchronicities popping up left, right, and center, and it was turning her stomach unpleasantly.
Claire started gesticulating with her hands before she started speaking; it was clear that she was trying to compose herself enough to speak. Distress was clear in her expression and the way the muscles in her neck had tensed. It softed Gwyn's tense expression a little.
"They were in the gyrosphere valley, but they didn't come back in when we called all tour vehicles in. I tried to call them, but the connection kept breaking up."
"Your nephews––how old are they?" Gwyn asked. Claire stuttered a little, shooting an almost nervous sideways glance at Owen. He still had his hands braced on his hips and he quirked his brows towards his hairline in silent prompting.
"The youngest is… he's…" She struggled a moment before a panicked hand flew up to approximate the boy's height. Her eyes scrunched shut, self-berratingly. "And his brother… he's… he…" Her hand shot higher.
Gwyn blinked. Then her eyelids fluttered while she slowly grasped hold of the fact that Claire didn't know how old her nephews were. Her gaze darted to Owen, who pursed his lips and then shrugged shortly. With a nod, Gwyn cleared her throat and started to approximate possible ages based on the estimated heights. "The, uh, the youngest––"
"Grey."
"Okay, Grey. He's probably somewhere between… eleven and fifteen?"
"Yes."
"And his brother––"
"Zach," Claire interjected again, worrying her hands in front of her stomach.
"He's probably between fifteen and eighteen?" An affirmative nod from the coordinator. Gwyn started to nod, herself, and began to push the rolled-up sleeves of her button down up past her elbows. "Okay, that's good…"
"It is?"
"Yeah. If both of them were below the age of twelve, we'd have serious issues. But since one of them is old enough to be responsible… things look better," Gwyn elaborated. She raised her eyebrows at Claire pointedly. "And just so we're clear about this, you want my help because I've been through this shit before, right?" The park coordinator nodded, desperately almost. "So you'll listen to me? You won't ignore me again? 'Cause if you're asking me to deal with this because of my prior experience, you have to actually heed my word."
"I swear I will. A-and not just in this regard, in everything else too. I-I'll call headquarters and tell them to prep for a Phase Two Real World," Claire promised. She pulled out her phone and clasped it between pleading palms. Phase One Real World was already enacted––they would shut down attractions in the area of a break out they thought they could contain. Phase Two Real World was when they would start to organize and execute a methodical evacuation.
Gwyn eyed the phone with an unreadable expression plastered on her face. Then, with a nod of her head, she let her eyes dance back up to Claire's face. It was a good incentive, not that Gwyn really needed any when two kids were out there just like she had been.
"Alright. Then let's get a move on; the quicker we find them, the better." Gwyn turned and started to walk away as she muttered, "We just have to hope that they've stuck together." She heard the rapid clicking of Claire's heels as she jogged after her.
"What would happen if they didn't?" she asked, a panicked edge to her voice. Gwyn bit the insides of her cheeks, physically stopping herself from bluntly informing her of what the consequences could be. When she didn't say anything, a hand caught her wrist and tugged. Gwyn looked around and came face-to-face with Claire, who was pleading her with fear filled eyes. "Please."
Gwyn pressed her lips together. A warning flashed through her eyes. "I don't want to be blunt."
"Be blunt."
Gwyn placed both hands on her hips and wet her lips. She scrunched her eyes shut, let out a slow breath, and leveled Claire with a candid look. "If… if they separate, there's less of a chance we'll be able to find them both. Together, you can plan, you have support. Alone… you can make stupid mistakes that can get you killed."
She watched as Claire's resolve hardened. The fear was put on a back-burner and determination hardened her expression. "Then let's get them."
OOOO
Gwyn stood, arms crossed, just inside the door of the ACU armory. Most of the non-lethals were gone, and would stay gone, forever lost to the jungle underbrush. The empty spaces were a grim reminder that some of the men and women who'd grabbed them would never return to put them back. It caused Gwyn's stomach to cramp up a little, recalling the hazy footage of their deaths; it turned her previously unsettled stomach, but the nausea had mercifully passed. It took a shocking amount of effort not to stare at the empty spots, not to let her memory drift to the footage. Instead, Gwyn focused on Owen, who was browsing the selection of lethal weapons, face pinched into an incredibly concentrated expression.
"How're you holding up?" Gwyn asked, voice quieter than she'd intended it to be.
Owen briefly glanced over at her while he reached out and took a gun off its rack. He checked it over, appeared to test the weight of it in his hands, and gave a simple nod of his head. It was supposed to be an answer––and assurance that he was okay.
Though it had been quite clear back in the control room, that things had started to affect him the way that they'd been affecting her. Where Gwyn had felt she'd been catapulted back into the nightmarish jungles that had haunted her since youth, it appeared that Owen had been pushed back into his time with the military. He'd been standing straighter with his shoulders squared and his chin lifted. He walked with a measured gait that spoke of years of training and practice. The tense, edging on dire, atmosphere must have reminded him of his time in the navy, of his time overseas. And it wasn't till now, when Gwyn had finally had a chance to calm herself down, that she had noted the change.
"You sure?" Gwyn posed. She asked it lightly, knowing that pressing the issue could wear on him worse than whatever was causing his shoulders to tense.
Owen paused, staring down at the gun, which appeared to be some kind of rifle, in his hands. His grip on it seemed to tighten for a moment before it loosened up a little. He cleared his throat and let his head bobbed into a nod. "Yeah." He then resumed checking the rifle over, ensuring that it was the weapon he wanted to take out with them. "It's been a while since I've had to handle one of these." There was a clicking sound as Owen tested the lever under the barrel. A heavy breath was exhaled from his nose. "Thought I wouldn't ever have to again."
Gwyn watched as Owen moved around the room––which looked like the lair of a Bond villain with all the up-lighting in the shelving units and high-tech gear sprawled across tables. He picked up a scope, which he attached to the top of the rifle with practiced ease, his hands moving assuredly, his brows tensed low over his eyes. It was like watching a soldier get ready for battle. He was solemn and quiet and focused. Whatever the rest of the day would bring, one thing was perfectly clear: both Gwyn and Owen were going to be worn the hell out by the end of it all.
"You ever shoot?" Owen asked suddenly. He looked up from where he'd been standing, fitting bullets into the bandolier style shoulder strap attached to the rifle. His brows were arched gently, and the look in his eyes was simultaneously familiar but foreign. Familiar for the fact that Gwyn recognized the look of concern in them. Foreign because there was a kind of worry there that she'd never seen before. And, combined, the two looks gave her pause.
Initially, Gwyn just shook her head and allowed her weight to shift on her feet. "No, not really. A colleague of mine has an air gun of some kind, uses it to scare off coyotes when he goes out on digs. Fired that once, a couple of years ago."
With a jerk of his head, Owen motioned her over. "C'mere. I wanna show you, just in case." Gwyn joined him where he stood, awkwardly lingering at his elbow; she kept her arms crossed over her chest, and hugged herself a little tighter. "You're gonna want to hold it like this." Owen shifted the rifle till he demonstrated holding it properly, the shoulder strap swinging freely. "Make sure you keep the safety on till you know you want to fire. It's just here." Gwyn craned her head forward a little and nodded when he saw where he was gesturing to. "You'll want to either look down the barrel," he demonstrated, "or down the scope," he demonstrated again. "Then you squeeze the trigger," his finger shifted to hover over it, "and once you've fired you pull this downwards." Owen pushed his hand downwards, the knuckles of his hand pushing down a lever. "It'll eject the casing out of the side." He shifted the gun down and then proffered it to her. "Here."
After a beat, Gwyn let her arms drop to hang at her sides; she reached out to gingerly accept the weapon. When Owen retracted his hands and the full weight of the rifle sat in her grasp, a breath puffed out of her mouth. She'd never held a real gun before. It was a bizarre feeling. It made her heart stutter. It made the situation more real––the last time this had happened, her father had operated a gun. This time, it looked like it could be her turn. Gwyn––a little clumsily––shifted the rifle upwards, and grimaced a little at how awkward it felt to hold it.
"Like…?" she trailed off, clearly aware she was holding it wrong.
"Don't press it into your shoulder, the recoil will get you if you do," Owen instructed. He stepped behind Gwyn and reached out to help her reposition the weapon, the butt of the rifle pressing into a spot a little lower and more inwards than she'd had it placed. "Make sure it isn't resting against anything bony."
"Okay…" Gwyn tried her hand at glancing down the barrel, before shifting her sights into the scope. Next she let her fingers dance over the safety, just to locate it, let a finger hover over the trigger, and then pulled at the lever. Every movement that she made was a little clunky and awkward, and that was to be expected as someone who had never handled a weapon before. But the awkwardness of the movements she made only made Gwyn hope that she wouldn't have to fire the gun at all.
"You sure you wanna go out there?" Owen asked, still stood behind her. His body heat bled into her back and his breath ruffled her hair.
Gwyn lowered the rifle just as awkwardly as she raised it, grimacing as she tried to just hold it by the shoulder strap. Owen's question was one to seriously considered. It was one that she'd briefly lingered on before entering Ingrid's paddock, and now wished she had considered a little more heavily. No matter where she'd been during the escape, she would have been rendered catatonic; but being in the thick of it was the worst place she could have been. Going out into the field while not knowing where Ingrid was, what she was doing, and where she had already been was a huge goddamn risk. But the island was larger than the cage. There was no guarantee that they'd run into Ingrid––but there was also no guarantee that they wouldn't. Quietly, Gwyn turned around and handed the rifle out to Owen. He grabbed it by the stock with the confidence of someone who'd done it before, and slung the strap over his shoulder.
"It sounds like one of those boys is pretty close to how old I was when shit went down the first time. Being out there, scared out of your mind… it does shit to you. And if we could maybe find those boys before anything happens––because we both know something is going to happen––then we could, perhaps, save them from being completely traumatized. Kids don't deserve to go through shit like this," Gwyn murmured. Her hands migrated into her pockets and she let out a hefty breath. "Feel like I kinda have to."
Owen shook his head, eyebrows crunched together and lips down-turned. "You don't have to."
She nodded to let him know that she understood that. Her eyes drifted to her boots, which were still covered in mud and gravel dust. "Earlier at the paddock…" Gwyn trailed off and, with a sigh, leaned back against a workbench. "I shouldn't have… I was an idiot… going into that stupid paddock?" She puffed out a breath and cast her eyes towards the ceiling. "I was an idiot. An idiot does shit like that. But going out there after those boys… I have to. If I have even a chance of preventing them from dealing with the shit I do every day because of being lost out there… I have to go out after them. I can't sit here and do jackshit while the world burns around us." Gwyn met Owen's gaze smoothly and easily. Her expression had hardened into one of determination, though it was a little shaky around the edges. "I've got your back if you've got mine."
It was quiet for a moment. Owen's eyes roamed her face almost methodically––jumping between her eyes before following her nose to her mouth, then snapping back up again. Owen, appearing equally as determined, nodded. "I've always got you."
"I know."
OOOO
They'd taken a spare service vehicle, which was trundling along service roads in order to access the gyrosphere valley. Gwyn had secured the passenger's seat and Owen had taken the job of driving. Claire had been attempting to get in contact with Zach and Grey for the whole ride. For the most part, however, they had been riding in silence.
From behind Gwyn, she could hear Claire start to mutter. "C'mon… pick up. Pick up, pick up, pick up…" There was a moment, after the muttering, where everyone in the car could feel Claire hold her breath in anticipation. When she finally let out the breath, it was clear that whatever happened had been unfavorable. "Dammit… Still nothing, they won't pick up." There was a beat before spoke again. "What did you do? When this happened the first time?"
Gwyn furrowed her brows and turned her attention away from the window. It had felt strange to feel so secure inside an air-conditioned vehicle while, moment by moment, the world around them was surely going to shit. It felt wrong. To Gwyn, it felt like she should be in the thick of it, sweaty and sore and terrified, even though being where she currently was was preferable. Her head turned so she could glance back at Claire over her shoulder.
"You mean when Jurassic Park went to hell?"
"Yes. You were a kid, right?"
"Eleven," she simultaneously clarified and confirmed. She started to smooth her hands along her thighs, pressing down on them with more pressure than needed. Her head ticked to the side a little, following the slight rise of a smirk across her lips. "It was a lot to deal with as a kid. You don't really… have the capacity to process how much danger you're in. Initially, at least. You know it's bad, but… then it hits you. And you grow up fast, in a split second. You need to have some form of common sense in a situation like that. That's why you're lucky one of your nephews is older than the other. I was lucky to have my dad with me."
"Are Zach and Grey gonna be okay?" Claire's voice was small, timid almost. Worried.
And Gwyn knew that she could––and maybe should––lie. Say that they'd be fine coming out of a situation like this, if only to make her co-worker feel better. But that wouldn't be fair. Not in the least bit. And Claire had given her permission to be blunt; and Gwyn couldn't be anything but in a situation that so closely mirrored an experience of her own.
"I don't know," Gwyn admitted. She shrugged and let herself be rocked in the seat as the tire hit a hole in the road. "I don't know what they've gone through, what they'll go through while we try and find them… If they've just been lost in the woods, I imagine they'll be fine. If they've come across anything… unsavory…" Gwyn sucked in a breath and shrugged a second time. "I dunno. And if they aren't okay now, they will be, eventually. I'm a living testiment of that, I'd like to think."
Silence returned to the interior of the car again, and Gwyn directed her attention back out the passenger side window. The jungle was thinning out to sprawling green grass, which stretched over rolling hill after rolling hill. The gyrosphere valley was connected to that of the gallimimus valley, and both had been an area Gwyn had once crossed on very small, very tired feet. It was amazing how it was, perhaps, the only part of the island that appeared untouched in the twenty-some years since she'd been there last. It was like a screenshot out of a dream, and it inspired a strange sort of melancholia in her chest.
They continued to ride quietly till Owen let a low, drawn out 'whoa,' almost like he was trying to steady a nervous horse. Gwyn was about to ask him what was wrong when she saw it for herself. Sprawled out across the grass, completely prone, was an apatosaurus. It looked like a large grey lump, the only visibly apparent movement being that of the rise and fall of its large side. Something was wrong. Gwyn could feel it in her bones, a chill that wove its way between the vertebrae of her spine and chilled her inexplicably. She braced a hand on the dashboard, and leaned forward as far as her seatbelt would allow. It clicked and arrested her movement before she could catch eye of anything that would support her uneasiness.
Owen brought the car to a slow stop, shifting it into park without so much as looking away from the dinosaur before them. There was a cranking sound as owen pulled at the hand brake. "Stay in the car," he instructed. He reached into the backseat and carefully maneuvered the gun from where it had been resting. Claire leaned far to the side to avoid being near it completely, her hands rising instinctively. The door popped open and owen got out, closing it with a flick of the wrist.
"What is it?" Claire asked. She shifted around in the back, the leather of the seats creaking as she tried to get a look out the windshield.
"It's an apatosaurus," Gwyn replied. She watched as Owen carefully approached the felled animal, his gun held at the ready but low by his hips. Her hand drifted to where her seatbelt had been locked; her thumb pressed down to release it with a click.
"Is it alright?"
"I… don't think so."
Gwyn popped her door open with a cautious tentativeness that Owen had not used. She got out slower than he had and closed the door so it made the least sound possible. Grass tickled her ankles, just above where her socks had been rolled down to. The feeling of being out in the open caused her heart to thrum and stutter. And when Gwyn started to move, she moved with a caution born of having been in a similar situation. Each footstep was carefully taken as not to make too much sound. Each breath she took shook with uneasy anticipation. And by the time she had walked the length of the apatosaurus' tail, she got a good eye at why it was lying prone. On its back right haunch was a set of scratch marks, deep and bloody. The skin was torn and shredded, and blood oozed along wrinkled grey skin. Flies had started to buzz around the wounds, crawling excitedly along the gory slashes. More of those scratches, violent and painful, littered the poor creature's body. There was a particularly deep and nasty one at the base of its throat.
There was no question what had torn into the apatosaurus' skin.
Knelt by the dinosaur's head was Owen. The gun had been slung onto his shoulder securely, and his hands were, instead, soothing the pained creature. One of his hands was placed at the top of its incredibly long neck, and the other rested on the top of its head. Gwyn sank to her knees shakily, kneeling directly opposite him. Owen made no comment about how she should go back to the car, or berate her for leaving. He was quiet, mournfully so. The apatosaurus' eye was rolling, gaze unfocused and hazed over with pain. Its mouth opened and closed as it breathed belaboredly. It was heart wrenchingly clear that it would not live much longer.
"I know. I know…" breathed Owen as the apatosaurus moaned. He had leaned down close to the creature, shushing gently as he ran a hand along the top of its head.
Gwyn sank back on her heels, deflated, and let out a shaky breath. She reached out and placed a hand on the apatosaurus' cheek; its skin was warm––hot, almost––and her palm rose and fell with its bumps and wrinkles as she moved it in a soothing motion. There was a smell in the air that turned Gwyn's stomach; it smelled of dried and fresh blood, like meat that had been exposed to the heat and sun for too long. The eye that she could see squeezed closed, a sharp breath was huffed out of its nose, and a low, groaning cry grumbled out of its mouth. The pain it was in was immeasurable, that much was incredibly clear. A tightness twisted inside of Gwyn's chest, which caused her breathing to wheeze a little upon exhaling. She looked up and caught Owen's gaze; the grim expression that crinkled his eyebrows telegraphed what she suspected––the apatosaurus wouldn't live long.
The grass and dirt scraped at Gwyn's kees as she shuffled a little closer and huddled herself nearer to the injured creature. It moaned low and long, eyes squeezing shut. Wetness slipped from the corner of its eye, the tear flowing into the wrinkles of its skin. "Hey, it's okay," she murmured. She dragged her hand along its cheek, repeating the soothing motion in hopes of keeping the apatosaurus calm. "It's okay."
Someone had come to stand, and then kneel, beside her. Gwyn looked over to see Claire gaping at the dinosaur with wide eyes. Those eyes were filled with shock, fear, and grief. It was the first time that the coordinator of park operations had been so close to such tragedy. When Irene had been killed, they'd been seperated by both glass and height. This was first hand. This was more real. Tentatively, Claire stretched a hand out. It hovered over the curve of the dinosaur's jaw, just where it met its neck. And when her hand finally settled on its chosen spot, a shuddering breath passed through her lips. Gwyn didn't doubt it was the first time that Claire had ever touched one of the park's dinosaurs. That it was the first fully personal experience she'd had with one; and it wasn't going to end with a smile and an enthused laugh.
Quite suddenly, the apatosaurus raised its head, groaning loudly as its eyes strained and rolled. Claire let out a quiet gasp and tore her hand away, fingers trembling. The hand that Gwyn had been resting against its cheek slipped away as its head reared up; and her nose started to sting as its blue eyes searched desperately for something. An escape. A release. A reality of painlessness. Owen cradled its head as best he could, continuing to make a shushing sound.
"It's okay, it's okay…" he all but whispered.
The apatosaurus let its head thunk back down into the grass, moaning quietly. Gwyn rocked suddenly back on her heels and came to standing. She turned away and paced off, a hand pinching at her stinging nostrils. Truly, the last thing she needed at the moment was to see the dinosaur die. It would likely tip her over the edge, she felt, and she couldn't let that happen. She needed to be focused and on top of her game. The hand that had pinched at her nose rose to cover her eyes; a breath puffed past her lips to calm herself. But when her hand dropped away, Gwyn was not prepared to see what the rest of the valley had in store. Her body stiffened and her eyes went wide.
Sprawled across the grass, which was torn up and tromped on, where the corpses of five other apatosauruses. They lay motionless, like statues made of concrete, with birds already perched atop them, ready to peck and tear at their next meal. It was like a scene out of a horror film, and it sent all of Gwyn's breath out of her lungs in a single word.
"Shit."
The sight before her bore a dangerous development. Ingrid had clearly made her way into and through the valley, and she'd left a trail of death in her wake. The newly arisen issue spawned from the fact that the dead apatosauruses had not been eaten. It proved that Ingrid was learning, that she'd realized that killing wasn't mutually exclusive to hunting for food or self-defense. It was a pastime. It could be done simply because she could do it. And the high level of danger surrounding that development turned Gwyn's stomach. This was not something that she'd dealt with before. This had not happened when the island had been home to Jurassic Park. The t-rex hadn't killed for fun. It felt, suddenly, like they were flying blind into a warzone. And it felt like there was nothing they could do to prepare themselves for whatever lay ahead.
Afterword: A little shorter than usual, but I've been sitting on this chapter for a while, and I want to get it out. The last year of college is absolutely annihilating my ass, and I have really, truly, been battling with keeping my sanity in tact for almost two months, now. Apologies for the late update, but I've been editing this chapter to keep myself sane.
Review Replies!
Zabuzas Girl: She would and will have her reasons to return to the island for FK, but I don't think she'd do it on her own volition and feel naturally motivated. Claire, for me, is a huge catalyst as for why the events of FK happen, so I'd like to keep her around. Though, of course, her role in the film will change just as it has in this one. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
NicoleR85: I've put a lot of time and thought into how Gwyn would react to a lot of what happens in this film. Because I considered how difficult it would be for her to relive all of this; she wouldn't be some fearless figure. She's gonna have her moments. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
EmmaM21: I'm very much looking forward to writing further into the film; 'cause, right now, it's still very much the set-up of all that's to come. Like once they're hiking through the jungle… once they make it back to the old visitor's center? Shit's going down. I always wanted to make sure that Gwyn and Owen had a very natural relationship in how it grows and how they compliment each other. As you said, fitting a square peg into a round hole is just clunky and awkward and it doesn't work. It was also incredibly important to me that Gwyn has her flaws––her stubbornness, for example, or how we're now seeing that she's not some fearless fighter in the face of a new disaster. I've loved writing her character arc as it constantly changes, and look forward to how it will continue to change and grow. We'll definitely get an Alan reaction––and I hadn't thought of interspersing moments of Ellie and Tim and Lex and Ian finding out… which I kinda really like. When Alan finds out what's happening on the island he is, indeed, gonna lose it; it's probably the worst of his worst nightmares. Right at the top. That poor man is gonna be going through the ringer no matter how he reacts. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; your review was absolutely lovely! Thanks again!
Momochan77: I always viewed a lot of what happened at JP and JW as a disregard of professional advice, so I've had fun sprinkling that in as I write. And when poor Alan catches of ear of what's happening on the island… that man is gonna truly lose it. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
AlchemyWriter: I think that as much as Gwyn wants to evacuate the island, the idea of kids being out there strikes a chord of absolute terror within her. She doesn't want someone else to suffer the way she had all those years ago. I totally also believe all of the survivors are some strange kind of familial bond. Because there are literally only a handful of them. There's only so many people that you can talk to about shit like that; and they tend to gravitate towards one another when things get rough. So our new survivors will definitely be in good company. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
AmericanNidiot: I wish we'd gotten more insight to the inner-workings of the control room. I want to know who else in that room was like Lowery and who, if anyone, ever had an idea that things were going wrong. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
AugustRrush: I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter; things are really picking up. Thanks again!
MsRosePetal: Thank you so much! I'd had the break-out scene written and planned out for so long. I took great care in making sure that Gwyn would react how someone who'd gone through shit like that before would react. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Vaporzz: I'm really happy that you've been enjoying the story thus far; I've got some good stuff planned with the Indominus, and I hope that you'll enjoy it. I have read a lot of theories that there's human DNA used in the Indominus' make-up, and I hope that the movie canon will either confirm or deny that theory. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
PhAnToM 1212: Thank you so much! I'm looking forward to really getting into the meat of the movie, 'cause right now, it's still very much the set-up. So Gwyn is still living in the aftermath of initial panic and anxiety, so I worry that it's all feeling very one-note right now. But I've got a lot planned for future chapters, so I'm excited for all of that. We will definitely get Alan's reaction, and I'm playing with also interspersing the reactions of other survivors as well. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
emmagnetised: I do remember you! I usually recognize usernames of people who consistently review, 'cause I tend to half-memorize the spelling of said usernames when I type these out! I'm so glad that you've enjoyed this story just like you have with my Marvel ones! And I hope you enjoyed the new installment, too; thanks again!
supboyyyyy93: I realize now, that I should have kept the scene that I originally planned for the top of the last chapter. I had initially intended to include Gwyn convincing herself to go into the paddock, Owen questioning that, and Frank reassuring her that it's safe to go in because Ingrid isn't there. I was also trying to play with the reasoning that in the aftershocks of shock and panic that something so awful had happened, Gwyn's judgement was skewed; and I tried to touch on that a bit this chapter. But, I also totally agree with your reasoning. I also think that I'd been so set on having that scene in the story, I didn't really step back and asses where Gwyn was as a character (because she was a very different person when I'd first written the idea out a few years ago). I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
Guest 1: Thanks so much! I'm gearing up to get more into the film, and I'm really excited for that. My ideas for this story are constantly shifting and being edited, so I'm always excited to get a new chapter up to get the ideas flowing. Thanks again; I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
Guest 2: Fallen Kingdom is going to be one hell of a time. Everytime I watch it, I get some new ideas and I write them down. And I've got plans for Gwyn and Owen between JW and FK, so I'm excited to get to that stuff to. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
MangoAiko: We'll get some more Ingrid stuff soon––and maybe we'll even follow Ingrid for a bit for part of a chapter. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Ana: There'll definitely be tension between Claire and Gwyn for all of the decisions that have and have not been made. And I'm happy that you've been enjoying the story and Gwyn and Owen as a pairing. I've had loads of fun figuring out how they work together and compliment one another. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Amzfundimental: I'm in my last year of college, so I've been overloaded with work for the last couple of weeks. So I grab time to write when I can, but it's been few and far between lately. But I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
CJ/OddBall: Eep indeed! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Angel JJK: Gwyn's going to have quite the time harnessing her bravery, which is truly what is going to keep her going. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
daydreamer1119: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the update!
monkeybaby: Hope you enjoyed the chapter! It was a tricky one to write, and the next one is gonna be a real trip!
Makokam: I always thought it was strange they never addressed that absolutely no one saw the Indominus escape the paddock, or an explanation why no one would have seen it happen. So I thought I'd give it a shot. I always figured that the whole camouflaging aspect was something that the Indominus only started to exercise in a situation where she'd need it; for example, escaping and hiding in a new environment/trying to escape the confines of her paddock. I've figured that since I first saw the movie, so I kept it as my version of canon, that no one really knew that it could do that despite having the DNA of an animal that can camouflage.
I will say that my style of writing fanfic does include using most of the dialogue/scenes from the source material, so there will be more of that. But I try not to include things that don't serve the story, and change them as I see fit to help the story along/develop. This is the first story where I've had such a large chunk of it not existing in canon, so this really is a new forray for me to work in more changes as I go along. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
And thank you to those that added this to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!
I don't know when the next chapter will be up, but I hope it won't be terribly too far away. I've got a lot of school work to do, and it's sucked my free time and social life right out of me. So, hopefully, I'll find the time to get some writing done! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Thank you for being so lovely and so patient!
~Mary