"We're not allowed to be doing that." Franklin went shoulder to shoulder with Zia, covering her as she opened drawers. Many were locked, or bent due to the destruction of the lab. But as long as Zia had a hair pin and a crow bar, that didn't stop her. But how she'd convinced him to hold the crow bar-
"We were here first." Zia slid the bottom drawer closed, fiddling with the middle lock. "Basically gives us the run of the place. And Claire needs us to find that journal."
Franklin eyed the army troop that had swooped in ten minutes ago. After securing the area, they were doing a floor-by-floor sweep of the place. Franklin had convinced them that any and all evidence they needed about who needed arresting was to be found here. Luckily, Colonel Placer was feeling generous and hadn't handcuffed them. Course, they weren't allowed to leave the floor on which he'd found them. Double luck, that was where they needed to be to do Claire's bidding.
"Easy for Claire to say." Franklin eyed the blank computer, debating whether to crack into it or not. "She isn't threatened with being court-martialed."
Zia looked at him, exasperated. "Franklin, does it REALLY matter at this point? After..." her eyes widened, still unconnected with the reality. "Everything."
"Ok." Franklin's hand wandered to the drawers on the other side of the desk. "Just... don't push yourself."
"Anything?" a solider checked up on his fellow sweeper, pushing Franklin's heart up his throat again. That probably wouldn't stop until he could wipe the compie blood off his hands and arms. How am I rambling and Zia's the silent, trembling statue?
While they were destroying the evidence of Maisie's existence- Franklin could still smell the incineration of the little girl's blood and tissue- they'd both remained stone-faced. The motions hadn't felt real. And Franklin had been the first to snap out of it, as Colonel Placer and his followers flanked the lab. He'd explained the situation, Wu's dead body, the dinosaurs... how had he done that?
Facing a prehistoric beast. He thought. Tooth and nail... how do I put that on a resume?
Franklin kept random thoughts like that in mind, giving the computer a once-over. Oddly, it kept him sane. Claire's latest call had given them a new task. And they'd already come this far-
"Hey." Franklin pulled out of his brain, moving the monitor again. He'd bumped it, checking for any USB ports. It was... heavy. A lot heavier then the latest PC model should be.
"Find something?" Zia raised a brow. Franklin jutted his chin at the computer. "Screwdriver. That other counter, right?"
Zia retrieved it, checking over their shoulders as Franklin turned the monitor sideways. The screwdriver was a flathead, inept for the Phillips head; he had to use its corner. "They're loose. Like someone's messed with them before."
From front to back, the monitor was barely four inches thick. Any wires within it were geared to show the technician whatever data they were analyzing.
Unless they weren't. Franklin thought, pulling the casing back. There were wires alright... and also a black journal!
"Holy-" Franklin hushed up and pried the journal free; as inconspicuously as possible. "Zia, your pack."
He slid the journal to her, turning and seeking out the nearest solider. "Hey, listen... so, we're kinda drained. Is there anyway we could just..."
He gestured toward the elevator, indicating what he was too tried to say. The solider studied him and Zia a moment before nodding them away. "Finally be out of our way."
"Glad to be of service." Zia saluted, following Franklin out the door and down the hall. She held her pack close, saving her other hand for Franklin's as they rode the elevator back to the surface. He eyed its extra bulge. "What's-"
"We'll find out soon enough." Zia blew a breath out; one of relief. "The more head space I get from there, the better. My sarcasm needs better reception."
Franklin mustered a grin. "I've missed it."
The elevator dinged- an unusual sound for the surrounding rubble. They walked out together, passing the desks and soldiers for fresh air and a calm breeze. Franklin sucked in a deep drag of it. For once, he wasn't seeking the solace of a computer screen. Zia finally unzipped her pack as they reached her car, setting both their eyes on the mysterious black journal. Backs to the InGen lab, Zia opened it. Franklin barely caught the polaroid that fell out of the front pages. He caught the back, with its hastily drawn double helix. Certain bits highlighted in pink, others in orange.
"Zia," Franklin spoke in confusion, turning it over to see a smaller version of Maisie. Pigtails with blonde ends sticking out, a wide grin of minuscule teeth, and a purple turtleneck as she sat next to some flowers. The edges were worn and the entire photo was yellowed, making Franklin's brain click. No... that's not Maisie...
"Gloria Lockwood." Zia held up a page in the journal that mirrored the DNA strand illustration. "What Ben Lockwood was chasing."
Franklin lowered the photo, focusing on the notes and bio-calculations that led onto the next page of the journal. He knew Zia would recognize more of it then him, but he had a hard time connecting the numbers and symbols with the brave little girl Owen and Claire were now caring for. "What'd you suppose he sacrificed to get it?"
"According to this," Zia turned another page gingerly. "Plenty."
}{}{}{}{
Two days, five favors cashed in over the phone, and sixteen pages of statements and they were finally free to go. More specifically, Owen was allowed off his cot! Claire was going to be driving, but Owen would take anything that got him out of the medical tent. Private Seaver ran a tight ship, naval pun intended.
"No, I got it Dad." Maisie dragged Owen's duffel out of his reach, slinging it on her shoulder. Owen tried to grab it back. "I can handle it."
"No, no, no," Maisie insisted, righting herself with a bright smile. "You're too banged up."
Owen let the argument drop. She was as excited to be up as he was. He struggled with his boots, watching Maisie trudge his duffel out of the tent. She was given help at the flap by Colonel Placer. "Thank you."
"No problem." Colonel Placer assured her, but he dropped the light-hearted tone when it was just him and Owen. Owen gritted through the pain to his ribs, lacing his boots. "So-"
"It's done." Colonel Placer nodded, as vague as his tone. "But those names; Gavrill and Aldovich. Nothing's turning up."
"It needs to." Owen stood, releasing some of the pressure from his wounds.
Placer's voice lowered as he mentioned it. "Your colleagues are really something, but they're at least useful. Mr. Webb is leading the way on cracking Mills' files. We've got five names and should have the rest of them by the end of the week. There are more credible threats to follow, Mr. Grady."
Owen couldn't agree with that; the other threats didn't know about Maisie. He prepped to shrug his jacket over his sore body. "Dig into Dr. Inger's stuff; those names will pop up. You can add them to your list of threats then."
"Going on your word doesn't say much." Placer threw in. Owen sighed. "Still unsure, huh?"
"Hey, I'm nothing compared to the media storm your wife's battling." Placer grunted with a familiar frustration. Owen recognized it from when public safety clashed with political agendas. He snapped on his watch, keeping his tone light. "Her phone'll be glued to her cheek before this is over." He let that joke fade before putting a serious look to Placer. "And Blue?"
Placer's voice and face showed pride. "Burned and buried. Not a moment too soon."
Yes and no. Owen figured. He'd always have the memory of Maisie's face falling when they'd told her about Blue. One memory among others.
"Couldn't have ended any other way." Owen just nodded his thanks at Placer. Was it even thanks? If Blue had somehow made it onto the sanctuary, had been left with to thrive with the other dinosaurs-
Only until some other mercenary comes along. Owen reminded herself. Someone always did. Hoskins had been one of the ear-worms, wanting to benefit from Blue's existence. Him, Mills, even Lockwood, leading with the illusion that they were in control of it in the first place. Placer moved back, allowing Owen a clear path outside the medical tent. It was still morning, but the heat off the pan was already unrelenting. He squinted up at the blinding sky, appreciating the fresh air on his face. Can't wait to reach the cabin and appreciate the air there.
But Claire had made him promise; her apartment first. They would meet Zia and Franklin there, discuss their future options... get a look at Inger's journal. What headaches would that bring on? Hopefully no more then his painkillers could combat.
"Maisie." Claire called out, getting Owen's attention with the little girl's. She held out her phone. "Someone's eager to talk to-"
"Iris!" Maisie guessed, dashing for it. Owen's duffel lopped over the trunk, hitting the ground in a mushroom cloud.
"Quite the kid." Placer mentioned. Owen looked to find him actually smiling. "Got two girls myself. Robin's eight and Joy... she'll be thirteen next week."
When's Maisie's birthday? Owen thought flippantly. How have we not asked her that?
"Look, um," Placer huffed then, falling in and out of his army stance. "I'm- sorry about-
"You had a job to do." Owen waved it off- literally to keep his sleeve on. "You were following orders, following the evidence... I would've drawn the same conclusions."
Placer set his jaw. "Kinda bugged that I did so easily. Sergeant Terry was a good solider, but always a bit... unsettling. Everyone saw him as the guy who'd cut corners. But we didn't peg him as a traitor."
"Nobody ever does." Owen sighed, watching Maisie talk rapidly into the phone. He had to smile; it was the most spirit she'd shown since getting her back. One good thing- and we got it. Thank you, God.
"They're why we put up with any of it." Placer was back to reflecting, also watching Maisie. Owen glimpsed around the base, braising under the rising heat of the plain. And he thought about Maisie's declaration of becoming a pilot, seeing the world. She was determined enough to try.
"Do you ever feel like you've prepared them?" Owen met Placer's eyes, father to father. A knowing smirk crossed Placer's face. "You have until they're eighteen."
That didn't feel very long. Owen stuck his hand out. "Better make the most of it then."
"Good luck." Placer agreed, shaking Owen's hand. It likely wasn't the last they'd seen of each other, but it was nice to think he wouldn't have to dread the occasion. Owen made for the car, where Claire had closed the trunk and Maisie gabbed away. She spotted him and squeezed his hand. "Iris is going to meet us at Claire's!"
Owen gave her a thumbs up. Maisie paused while Iris said something, then winced. "She says your manners better have improved."
Owen put his thumb down, getting her to giggle. Owen looked up as Claire leaned against the open driver's door. "Ready?"
"Like you wouldn't believe."
}{}{}{}{
"We've watched the world's efforts travel in fast forward since the fall of the mighty tyrannosaurus rex last week," the British reporter stated to her camera. "In a jointed statement from the prime minister and U.S. president earlier today, they assure us that the outbreak in California has been fully neutralized. The deadly rampage, which released eleven prehistoric spieses into the modern public, resulted in a total of 131 deaths, 86 Americans, 25 African-Americans-"
Rodion Aldovich let the segment play, filling the stoic silence of the backseat. He was able to hold most of his chuckles back until it ended. He exited out of the screen, putting his phone down to eye Mr. Gavrill. "It's all the same. The UN, EAU, and any local governments have unified efforts to locate the dinosaurs sold at the auction."
"Just as our friends gather." Mr. Gavrill shrugged, gazing at the muddled glass of his tumbler. His thinking pose. There was plenty to think about these days. Aldovich eyed the window as the driver made the last turn to their destination. "Whatever task force they send, Grady will be part of it. Your name was concealed at the auction, but-"
"It'll keep the game interesting." Mr. Gavrill lowered his tumbler with a shrug. "It is, after all, far from over."
Aldovich remained placid as the car braked. He nodded as Mr. Gavrill exited, letting in the backwoods scent of home. Aldovich blinked in a moment of nostalgia, following Mr. Gavrill onto the damp path and brazen sunlight. The things that could remain in a boy's brain, no matter how much the world changed. Eyeing the tall, thick-barbed electric fence before them, Aldovich regained his composure. Only to catch his breath at the roar that shuttered from the other side of the fence.