Chapter 15
Cathy hummed to herself as she worked, ticking off her animal inspection checklist. With as many of these as she'd done, she could probably do a checklist in her sleep. It also didn't hurt that she was the only one not needing instruction.
Despite the fact that she was currently slated for shadowing the veterinary workers, she had decided to do a few shifts at the Gentle Giants again. The vet shadowing had slowed down for a couple of days, and Cathy suspected it was due to the incident with the Metriacanthosaurus. Thankfully, they were still hosting some veterinary shadowing, and she'd scheduled one for later in the afternoon. In the meanwhile though, volunteering here was good for getting padding on her resume.
The new shift of interns was just getting used to things, and so they needed the extra hands. On the upside, it meant she was getting plenty of samples. She didn't need supervision, so the superiors were more than comfortable letting her handle an animal on her own while they attended to the people who had less of an idea what they were doing. And if an animal happened to jerk a little when she stuck them and took a blood sample, it was easy to excuse the anxious atmosphere. They were quick clotters anyway, and there was almost no trace of it. Clean hands and sleeves. Any stained gloves were immediately turned inside out, tied, and stuffed into a small plastic bag in her coat and a new set of plastic gloves obtained.
However, it also meant some of her time was occupied with others. As she caught one of the supervisors headed her way, she let out a silent sigh, drawing up a helpful smile in its place. "Someone need help?
"Yeah, mind supervising the group on the end? We're letting out the Gallies, and they might be a bit much to handle," she said. Cathy glanced at the nametag: Ms. Sanvail. Judging by her somewhat tired expression and messy hair, things hadn't been that easy for the supervisors with the new group.
"Sure. I can do that. Just let me finish up here," Cathy offered, and Sanvail didn't even bother to nod before rushing off to deal with some other fire. Cathy didn't take it personally, nor did she particularly care. Supervisor told her to work, so she did. Simple as that.
Standing up, she opened the gate and gave the young Trike a couple of firm pats on the flank, prompting it forward. Most of the babies were trained to react to a couple of standard tactile commands, but you had to be a bit forceful to get them to register it through their thick skins. Once it was through, she closed the gate, and turned to look at the rest of interns.
Every other group was being carefully guarded by a supervisor, which made sense. Even at the best of times, the Gallies could be a bit hard to wrangle. Because of how fast they were, you couldn't really get ahead of them, and catching them was out of the question. InGen wouldn't risk any harm coming to their specimens, and anyone who injured an animal would be out on their ass so fast their head would spin. Which meant that "handling" Gallies was more like "suggesting."
A fact that the other interns had yet to realize.
"Back away from them!" Cathy said firmly and loudly, though she kept it down enough that the other animals wouldn't startle. She strode up to the group, putting out her arms to move some of them back, giving the animals room to breathe. Gallies tended to be anxious things, which meant that panicking them only made it harder.
"We almost had them," one of the interns offered.
"No, you didn't," she said immediately, looking at the small flock. Judging by how they moved their heads and twitched, they were in full flight mode. She could practically see their hearts beating in their chests. "Don't crowd them. They're prone to panic. Everyone stand back and give them a second to relax."
Slowly, the interns stepped back, following her instructions, and while the animals jittered at the motion, they didn't seem to worsen. Their goal, the handling pen, was behind them. She turned to the intern on her left, a kid with black, curly hair. "You. Go open the entry gate and stand a little distance away from it."
"Right," he said with a nod, breaking off from the group, Cathy motioned for the next intern in line to move closer, closing the gap.
"Okay, so what we're going to do is form a pair of lines on either side, then start herding them in," Cathy explained, pointing to the intern at the end of the line on her left. "You, trade places with me."
Quickly and efficiently, they swapped, and Cathy started to crouch down, arms wide. "You'll want to stand like this. Makes them think you take up more space than you do. Stay light on your feet. You need to be able to step side-to-side real quick in case they switch directions. But don't rush them. Just close the gap."
Some of the interns looked a little embarrassed but followed her commands anyway, and they had formed a pair of lines, blocking the Gallies between them. Cathy looked at the intern across from her. "Okay, now you and I are going to start walking towards each other. Everyone else, start wrapping around behind them, but keep the path to the gate open. People on the end, your job is to just prevent them from going sideways. Got it?"
A couple of nods and some murmured replies, and Cathy signalled to start. Slowly, she and the lady across from her started to walk towards each other, and she could see the Gallies' eyes snap to them, obviously trying to keep an eye on the threat. But with a solid concrete wall between them, running passed them wasn't an option. Once Cathy got within about three feet of them, the group started moving away, and she took the opportunity to completely seal up the back.
The rest of the herding went perfectly. Unable to step to either side, the Gallies quickly picked up speed, running into the safety of the handling pen, and the man she had assigned quickly closed it behind them. Then the tension was gone and the interns high fived one another, celebrating their success. Cathy was starting to slink away, hoping to avoid the celebrations, when she saw the same supervisor heading over.
"Everything alright, ma'am?" Cathy asked.
"Everything's fine," she confirmed quickly. "Just wanted to say well handled. How long have you been working with the Gallies?"
Cathy quickly held back her reflexive surprise, ruthlessly quashing her fear. It was unlikely she meant it in a nefarious way. "Been working with the new ones since the last cycle. I was in the first group assigned. Heard they needed more hands, so I was happy to pitch in."
"Glad you did," Sanvail said, her eyes flicking across the group of interns. "Seems you got a talent for it. You considered applying for this facility?"
That caught Cathy's attention. There was a distinct difference between being told you were good at something, and being told by someone in the establishment that you should apply to it. Did Mr. Ryde say something to her?
"I hadn't thought about it," Cathy said honestly. "I didn't want to put all my eggs in one basket. The positions are very competitive."
"That they are. But I think you'd have a very good chance of getting in here," Sanvail commented, and Cathy allowed a smile. That was about as clear as it could get. You should apply.
"I might just consider that," Cathy agreed pleasantly. Sanvail nodded, and headed off to continue supervising without another word.
A position at the Gentle Giants. It would certainly fit the bill. It was low-hanging fruit, all things considered. Most interns probably wanted to work somewhere else they could do research and make a name for themselves, or at least work with adult animals. Gentle Giants was a summer gig, at best.
But for her, it could be perfect. It was beneath notice and was hardly demanding. She just cleaned baby animals and checked lists. It was stable employment, and made sure she had constant access to some of the animals at any time. And the rest would be easy enough to get a hand on with enough time and preparation. To say nothing of some of the potential promotion tracks, if she decided it would take that long.
It was enough to put her into a good mood. Already, she was thinking of ways to aim higher, but it was always nice to have a reliable fallback.
Finally, Cathy met Dr. Withers.
In all honesty, she had almost completely forgotten the name Sarah had provided her on her first day at the park. It hadn't been relevant or reachable at the time, but suddenly it had come to fruition.
Dr. Withers was one of the employees on the rotation of veterinary shadowing. He was older than Cathy was expecting, with sunburnt skin that faded to a pale white near the edges of his clothes. His receding hairline left a large bald patch that had the slight shimmer of sweat, and he peered with narrow eyes from behind black, thick-rimmed glasses.
"You the one?" he asked, barely sparing a glance in her direction as he put a box in the back of the jeep.
"Yes, sir," she replied. "Anything I can do?"
"Can you lift?" he inquired, jerking his head to a nearby bale of vegetation. Getting the impression he wasn't much for talk, Cathy walked over and grabbed the bale. It was heavy, and she had to stagger over to the car with it, but Dr. Withers seemed satisfied, though not impressed, when she put it in the back.
"When do we leave?" Cathy returned, throwing his short, direct style back at him. To his credit, Withers' snort was short and lightly amused.
"Now. Hey, Johnson!" Withers turned suddenly, shouting across the vehicle bay to the young man sitting behind the security booth. "We're headed out! Two in the field! Car Five!"
Johnson flashed a thumbs up, reaching over to scrawl something in the log. Cathy followed Withers' lead and slid into the passenger side of the jeep as he took the driver's side. Fortunately, it was just the pair of them today, so she didn't have to fight for space.
Pulling out of the garage, Withers turned the jeep onto the service road that led north. For a moment, they sat in silence, only the roll of the ground beneath them filling the car with noise, and Cathy began to wonder why Sarah had recommended him as a supervisor.
"What do you know of Pachycephalosaurus?" he inquired out of the blue, his eyes still fixed on the road. Cathy snuck a glance at him from the corner of her eye, trying to gauge his expression, but was only able to read an impassive facade.
"Well, aside from the obvious things like their clade and the fact that they're herbivores, I know an adult is roughly four and a half meters long; almost as tall as a human," Cathy recited. "I also know some of the top paleontologists theorize that Dracorex and Stygimoloch are potentially adolescent Pachies. I find it interesting you have both Stygimoloch and Pachycephalosaurus in the same park."
That got the corner of Withers' mouth to quirk up in a hint of a smile. "Today you're going to be watching me while I fix the locator."
"Aren't those subcutaneous?" Cathy asked as she began to suspect what was in the box in the back of the jeep.
"They are," Withers confirmed simply, and Cathy read the subtext as clear as day. They were going to be doing field surgery. Definitely not what she was trained for, or what she had expected, but undeniably useful and interesting.
"When do we get started?" Cathy asked, unable to help a hint of enthusiasm leaking through.
"Shouldn't take long to find it."
The sound of tires on asphalt changed to dirt as they approached the gate, and silence filled the space once more. Dr. Withers only spoke to check in with the gate security. Then it was the sound of grass under the tires.
Cathy watched out the window, observing the dinosaurs at a distance as they passed. A herd of triceratops were down by the pond, with a flock of Gallimimus nearby, both species were dwarfed by the much larger Apatosaurus. It was almost like a postcard with how diverse the arrangement was in such a small area. Something seemed off about the image, but the only obvious thing she could see were the Gyrospheres that swarmed around the animals.
She pushed the thought for later as she saw the herd of Pachies in the distance. Dr. Withers slowed the jeep to a crawl. A couple of the animals glanced at them, but seemed not to care as they foraged. Eventually, he stopped, having decided he was close enough.
"Keep an eye on them," he instructed as he reached into the backseat. Cathy was tempted to look, but obligingly kept her eyes on the animals. Though they were generally passive, Pachies could rapidly accelerate, and even the sonic deterrent wouldn't work well enough to prevent the initial hit, only discouraging repeated bashing. Fortunately, it seemed none of them were particularly concerned about the jeep.
Dr. Withers sat back up, laying a black box across his lap, and began to pull out metal cylinders that Cathy inspected from the corner of her vision. As he screwed them together, she realized he was assembling a lightweight dart rifle. After attaching the air tank and sliding the dart in, he began to roll down both windows on his side.
Leaning out the window, he squinted, looking at the animals. After a moment, he seemed to pick a target, and sighted it down his scope. After a couple of adjustments, the dart flew out with a near-silent hiss, and struck the Pachy in the shoulder. It gave a call of alarm, and that was enough to startle the rest of the herd, who began to run away.
Tossing the rifle into the backseat through the other window, Dr. Withers quickly sat down in his seat and grabbed the wheel. The jeep quickly shuddered forward and they followed the herd. Though they were driving relatively fast, she did feel Dr. Withers slow down once or twice, trying to keep his distance.
At first, she lost sight of which one they had targeted, but before too long, it started to flag and fall behind. Once that happened, Dr. Withers slowed down to its pace, preserving the distance between them. The animal began to droop its head and tail and eventually laid down, though it still seemed awake. And once it was down, they started to get closer, swinging wide, and then backing up until they were not far from it.
The rest of the herd was some distance away, close to the treeline. They still looked spooked and anxious, but were staying close by for some reason. A few started to graze, while others stared fixedly in their direction with their small eyes. It was almost eerie in a way.
"Alright, should be ready," Dr. Withers explained as he opened the car door and slid out. Cathy watched him for a moment, unable to believe that he was just stepping out.
"Are you just walking up to it?" she asked, confusion in her voice as he retrieved the rifle, loading in a new dart.
"At this point, it's unable to move under its own power," he explained, slinging the weapon over his shoulder. "And I have a spare dart if things go wrong."
Objectively, Cathy knew he was being fairly rational, something she appreciated. But another part of her was objecting to the whole idea as images of worst case scenarios filled her head. At the same time, Sarah's recommendation chimed in her memory. If she had recommended him, there had to be a reason. And this kind of attitude hadn't developed overnight.
So with only a hint of hesitancy (and no more than that, Cathy told herself), she opened the door and stepped out. Dr. Withers' eyebrow ticked up a fraction, but he took it in stride as he went to the back of the jeep. "Grab the bale. I'll handle the surgical tools."
Cathy nodded, pulling the bale off the back of the vehicle. She followed Dr. Withers to the animal, and he pointed towards the front of it. Following his silent order, she walked around the front, and watched as it tried to observe her, faint muscle motions betraying its attempt to move despite its inability. She laid the bale down by its head and cut the strings with her pocket knife.
At the same time, Dr. Withers cracked open the surgical kit. Laying out a small tarp, he began placing items on it. High strength hand sanitizer, gloves, wipes, tools, and all the other things one needed. First, he took a cleansing wipe and began wiping down the shoulder region of the animal.
"Make sure it has enough food," he instructed without looking in her direction. Cathy obliged, pushing one flap of the bale closer to it. The animal's nostrils flared for a moment, and it used what little muscle control it had to nibble at the offered food. It was an unexpectedly tame behaviour.
"Are they all trained to behave this way?" Cathy inquired.
"Most of them, yes," Withers nodded. "They panic when they're dosed, but once they're under, they're quite relaxed. The older ones have been through this a few times. The Pachies especially."
"Why's that?"
"Pachies engage in headbutting competitions. But unlike the popular depiction, they attack each other's sides. The locators are implanted in the shoulders, which are a common target, so we have to check them regularly." He punctuated his statement by sanitizing his hands and slipping on his gloves. "It will likely jolt a bit as I apply the local anesthetic. Be ready."
Cathy braced herself as he inserted an almost comically large needle into the animal's shoulder and injected the dose slowly. The animal jerked, as he had predicted, but only lamely and Withers rode the motion easily, keeping the needle right in place. Then, he pulled it back, and the smallest amount of blood pearled out, but it clotted quickly.
"And now we wait," he said, brushing his forehead with his arm.
Cathy nodded in absent acknowledgement before crouching down to get a better look at the animal. She'd handled some babies of various species, but never gotten close to any Pachycephalosaurus. It wasn't the prettiest animal, but even while limp, it was still intimidating. The dome head overshadowed the eyes with bony ridges, giving it a more brutish look.
"Should be long enough," Dr. Withers announced as he picked up his tools. The first was a scalpel that looked comically small compared to the animal, but Cathy knew better. The blades were sharp enough to cut through a dinosaur's skin with minimal pressure. And as she watched, he drew a thin line in the flesh, exposing the minimum amount necessary.
Taking out a retractor, he carefully clipped it in place before retrieving a pair of long forceps. With one hand, he held a light into the cavity, while he navigated with the other. Just by watching, Cathy could see he had a smooth, practiced hand at the procedure, and didn't so much as waver as he proceeded.
"Got it," Dr. Withers announced as his hand began to pull back. After a tense couple of minutes, the forceps cleared the incision, and Cathy could see a bent little metallic object. Withers held it close to his face, inspecting it. "Seems to have sustained damage consistent with headbutting."
"Why don't they put them somewhere else?" Cathy asked.
"Not many better places. Too deep, and you have to perform a more intensive surgery. Can't put it near the spine or head. Arms don't move much, so it won't suffer as much wear and tear there," he explained as he prepped the new locator.
He repeated the procedure in reverse this time, taking a moment once it was fully inserted to make sure it rested well in its new location before pulling back. Once he had finished, he took out the tools for stitching.
Pausing only once to nudge his glasses up on his shoulder, he quickly and precisely sewed the incision back up. It didn't take long, since it wasn't big to start with, but it was quite impressive. Once he was satisfied, he put his tools into a container before putting it back in the box.
Standing up, he dusted his hands, turning to Cathy with a small smile. "And that's that."
Together they loaded the tools back into the vehicle, along with the uneaten portion of the bale, and were off again. The ride was quiet until they reached the gate, with Dr. Withers only speaking to the gate security. Cathy had to say she was surprised someone as talkative as Sarah had recommended someone like him as a supervisor, but he clearly knew his trade.
But something was bothering her...
"So, what are we going to be doing during this phase?"
Dr. Withers turned his head slightly with a questioning look. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, observing field surgery is informative, but unconventional. Moreso still in that you performed it like you were doing normal work, rather than a demonstration."
The corner of Dr. Withers' mouth curved up into a slight smile and he seemed to relax a little. "That's the trick."
"Trick?" Cathy inquired, intrigued.
"You see, the thing about a lot of the interns we get is that many of them are talented individuals. You don't get into Jurassic World's programs by being 'okay.' But a lot of them are also used to being fed information. Not all of them, mind you," Dr. Withers quickly added. "But a lot of them had teachers or professors who basically opened the hatch to their brain, and just stuffed whatever would fit in there. They don't ask questions, they don't observe. They don't learn in the field."
"And so you're testing to see who takes the initiative," Cathy surmised.
"Correct. Ms. Niobrara was one such student. So when she mentioned you in the incoming group, I decided to see for myself."
"And what do you think?"
Dr. Withers was silent for a moment. "You asked less questions than her, but I could see you watching. You ask with your eyes. You demonstrated both knowledge, and a voice to speak it, even if it goes against doctrine. I think you have some potential. We'll have to see next time."
The drive was almost over, and Cathy could see the vehicle depot coming up on them. In her opinion, it had been a fairly successful trip, all things considered. So she remained politely quiet as they pulled in, then dutifully scheduled her next shadowing, and parted ways. Dr. Withers had been more than she'd anticipated, and more observant than she'd bargained. It was both an asset, and a risk, but one she was willing to take.