October 2005
Alan Grant hurriedly placed his notes into his tatty, brown briefcase. They were already crumpled from years of re-use, had coffee ring marks distorting the words and had been taped back together in several places. For Alan though, they were more of a prop; a reassurance to the students, and particularly any passing faculty members, that the professor had put some effort into preparing the lecture. He could, however, recite the lecture he had just given in his sleep, especially given the lethargic undergraduate students he had just taught had a less than enthusiastic response to the information he was dispelling.
It was more than generous to say that Dr Grant and his students shared the same mind-set towards sitting in a clammy lecture hall on a humid October afternoon. It had been two years since Alan had been appointed as a part time lecturer in Palaeontology at Checkland University, but it had certainly felt longer. The Masters students he supervised were certainly more engaging, offered more of a dialogue of ideas, but the undergrads just seemed to sit there, like zombies, or were too busy messaging on their cell phones to even hear a word Alan was saying. They rarely asked questions, which Alan preferred, because the ones they did ask were on a topic he certainly didn't want to answer.
Alan zipped up his briefcase to halfway, with the knowledge that the zip hadn't been fully functional in the last decade and tried not to make eye contact with the students who were now filing out of the lecture theatre, past his desk. There had been a large turnout for this lecture, a side effect of teaching in the afternoon. The morning classes that Alan presided over were often almost empty, with half of his students sleeping in after a night of downing tequila shots into the early hours. Those that did attend practically crawled in, armed with a litre of coffee and looking and smelling like they spent the night at a brewery.
This afternoon though, was almost a full house. He'd even had a few mumbled responses from some of the students when he'd asked questions. None of them of course were entirely accurate, but it at least showed that they knew they were in the right lecture. Last semester, he'd had a student that was on time for every class, sat in the front row and took notes on every word he said. It wasn't until three weeks later she enquired whether they were going to study any Shakespeare that term. It had surpassed that she thought she was supposed to be in 'Introduction to English Literature'. And that was one of his better students.
Alan ran a hand over his greying hair and thought about how it made him look old, rather than distinguished. Still, he'd rather look aging and natural than start to try to delay the passing of youth. One of the history professors, Dr Torte, used a spray-on hair dye to try and cover up his faded and thinning locks. The university had a rather minimal approach to air conditioning though and when it was hot, beads of black sweat dripped from his hairline on to his rather misguided wardrobe choice of a crisp, white shirt. Alan knew he wasn't growing old gracefully, far from it, but at least he had the dignity not to hide it. Even though the palaeontologist was well into his sixth decade on the planet, he was certainly considered one of the more attractive members of faculty by both staff and students. He still had an athletic build, never being one for slouching in front of the TV for days at a time, gorging on burgers and chips. Although time added wrinkles and a harshness to his skin, it wasn't detracting from the classic handsome appearance of his face.
The salacious smiles from some of the passing nineteen year olds at their good looking professor made Alan a little uncomfortable. He would be a hypocrite if he claimed he had never taken things further with a student or an underling, but certainly not a teenager, not even in his younger days. Still, at least with undergraduates this age, all he got were a few fluttered eye lashes and the odd suggestive comment; they rarely flirted so evocatively that it would require him to turn down their advances.
Slowly, the last few students trundled out of the classroom as Alan looked up, hoping it was safe to make his move in the same direction without being interrupted. Unfortunately, just as he glanced towards the door his eye caught the attention of one of his newest undergrads. The young man, with mousey brown hair in a messy style grinned as he headed towards him, thinking Alan's eye contact was permission for a discussion. There was nowhere Alan could go, the rest of his class were proceeding so leisurely out of the theatre, that they were blocking the only exit. There was a fire exit up the top of the room, with the doors firmly closed and only to be released in an emergency. There was a large part of Alan that wanted to make a run for it and burst through the restricted doors. He was sure that a large part of the faculty would empathise with his decision; from the overheard conversations of his peers, they all seemed to despise the first year students too.
With a laboured sigh, Alan plastered on a false, polite smile as the young man approached him.
"Yes, Mr…Winters," Alan enquired, hoping he had remembered the student's name correctly, "What can I help you with?"
The younger man stood up straighter, pleased that he'd managed to garner his professor's attention without much effort. The classroom was quiet and the hallway outside empty; the crowds had quickly dispersed now that the majority of lectures were over for the day. Jeremy Winters cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Alan had a bad feeling about what he was going to be asked. Students asking a question about assignments tended to just blurt it out in passing. The boy in front of him looked nervous, as if he knew the question he was about to ask would not illicit a positive response from his tutor.
"Yeah…uh…so, Dr Grant…could I ask you a question...if that's ok?" Jeremy stuttered.
"You may certainly ask, Mr Winters," Alan responded, his plastered smile somewhat fading.
"So…I just wondered…I know you said we can't ask you anything about your time on…" Jeremy stopped and changed his voice to a hushed whisper, as if he and Alan were not the only ones in the room "Nublar and Sorna, but there's something I really would like to know."
Alan started shaking his head. He made it a point at the beginning of every year to take five minutes with every class and explain to them that if they were expecting an in-depth recalling of his time on the Islands, then they should leave now. His job was to discuss animals that had lived millions of years ago, not the genetically modified versions that misguided scientists and billionaires had created.
"Mr Winters, let me stop you right there. I have a strict rule, if I relented for you, then in fairness I'd have to for everyone," Alan told the young man. Jeremy looked dejected at his professor's words and the palaeontologist couldn't help but feel sorry for the boy standing in front of him, dressed in a sweater that was three sizes too big and pants that seemed to be made out of curtains, judging by the pattern on them.
"I…it just it doesn't make sense…there were species on the Islands that weren't on InGen's list, weren't there? That family on Sorna, they said they saw a Spinosaurus. That definitely wasn't on the list. Not just in the press release either...my buddy Todd, he hacked into the old InGen systems. Nadda!"
Jeremy was bouncing on the balls of his feet now, clearly excited that he may have stumbled onto something that would intrigue the scientist.
"So, Todd and me…well mainly Todd, cause he's the guy with the computer skills. Hey, Dr Grant, anything you need help breaking into? How about personnel files? We can get you some real sordid shit on some of the other lecturers! You'll never guess what Dr Collins got fired from her last job for! Apparently, she was using students to…"
"Jeremy," Alan interrupted, slightly intrigued over his fellow staff members' past and wary that the kids may have also looked into his personnel file. "I don't think it's especially prudent to discuss criminal activity with me, do you?"
Alan knew that he turned a blind eye more than other lecturers. He didn't mark the students tardy, even when they turned up ten minutes before the end of class. He didn't insist on phones being banned in the lecture theatre or any other tedious rules set out in the University charter. As far as he was concerned, his students were adults and should make their own choice on how involved and dedicated they were to be to their work. He wouldn't hand hold them through their university years, just so they could get the shock of their life when they entered the real world and found out that people will screw you over any chance they get, sometimes just for their own amusement.
"Oh, yeah. You're probably right, Dr Grant. I wouldn't wanna get you in trouble. You're…you're not going to say anything are you?" Jeremy worryingly questioned. Alan shook his head. "Awesome! Thanks, Dr Grant. Word of warning though, you ever go on a date with Dr Collins, be careful man, cause she's been into some weird shit!"
Dr Maria Collins had in fact pursued Alan on a number of occasions. The mathematician was petite, with flame red hair and wore bright pink lipstick that suggested she wasn't quite aware of colour clashing. She was an attractive lady, if not stunning, and when Alan first met her she came over as sweet, thoughtful and almost shy. It wasn't until several months had surpassed and it seemed that everywhere he went, Maria would coincidently be there. Lingering against door frames, her gaze getting for intense each week, that he began to think he had a problem on his hands. She laughed at every word he said, not just a polite giggle, but a full-on throaty roar that attracted attention from anyone in a five mile radius. Thankfully for Alan, a new professor started in the Math department not long after and Maria, bored of the palaeontologist's rejections, clung on to the unsuspecting new faculty member, like a barnacle onto a boat. Poor bastard.
"Well, thank you for the advice Mr. Winters, but I really should be getting on," Alan signalled a stack of essays that were due for marking on the desk. They didn't belong to him, probably the property of some poor, overworked research assistant who was now frantically searching for them, forgetting that they'd taken a seminar in that room this morning. Jeremy wasn't to know that the pile of work didn't belong to him though, and he had no qualms about exploiting guilt from the student if it meant getting him out of the room as soon as was earthly possible.
Jeremy wasn't about to be put off that easily though. "But Dr. Grant, that's not all we found out about InGen! There weren't just old files in there, but new ones, involving property and trusts and crap like that. I didn't really get what they were about, but Todd's girlfriend, Abby, is pre-law, and she said…"
Alan was tired of this now and stopped the boy in his monologue. "Look Jeremy, I appreciate your enthusiasm, I do, but if you want to talk about Jurassic Park, Isla Nublar, Sorna, InGen, or anyone else that had a hand in creating animals for monetary gain, then you've come to the wrong place. I have no interest in thinking, talking, debating or listening to anything about them. That was a very small part of my life that is thankfully closed. John Hammond cut every corner in the business, so I'm not surprised you've found anomalies on the way. If you're really interested in the topic then I suggest you go out and read Ian Malcom's book, or Dr Harding's. Both go into a lot of detail about their time on the islands. Now, if there was nothing else?"
The student looked dejected. Alan quite liked the kid, he at least came to the university to achieve something other than getting laid and getting drunk every evening. Jeremy plodded towards the door, stopped and turned around.
"Not for nothing, , but I have read their books, and the one by that Van Owen douche. It just seems to me that the people who would have had the most insightful things to say about the island…well…those were the ones who didn't really say anything."
With that, Jeremy turned around and headed out of the classroom, leaving Alan alone with his thoughts. He sat back down at the large mahogany desk, settled his elbows firmly down and put his hands over his face. He'd lied to the boy. Jurassic Park, InGen, Nublar, Sorna; they were not just a small part of his life. They had dominated the last decade. It wasn't over. It was never over. Alan heard someone re-enter the lecture theatre. Jeremy must have thought of another few questions he could plague him with.
"Mr Winters, I've said all I'm going to say on the subject," Alan responded, but as he took his hands away from his face, he was surprised to see that it was two men standing in front of him. One of the men was tall, well built, someone who clearly spent time in the gym. His buzz cut and straight posture suggested a military background. He stood slightly behind the other man, suggesting that he wasn't the superior in this little duo. The man in front was dressed in a suit; expensive too, Alan thought, even with his limited knowledge. Maybe Saville Row, but certainly it was tailor made, not off the rack. The man was of average height, but his hunched shoulders and broad stomach made him look shorter than he was.
"Dr Grant, I presume?" the smaller man enquired. Alan nodded, even though he had a feeling that these men didn't need to ask him. They certainly weren't students or faculty, and a little part of Alan was intrigued to find out who they were, although his better angels were shouting at him to run as far away as possible.
"Can I help you, gentleman?" Alan asked the strangers.
"Dr. Grant, my name is Mr Evers, and this is my…colleague, Robert Webber," the suited man replied, pointing to the taller man who was more casually dressed in jeans and a sports jacket. "We have a proposition for you, a job opportunity, and were hoping that we could steal just a few moments of your time."
Alan looked warily at the man, recognising the smarmy grin and over the top politeness as someone who wanted to talk business.
"I only have a minute gentleman, as you can see I have a lot to be getting on with," Alan answered, again, pointing to the large stack of papers on his desk and using them for a false excuse.
Peter Evers pulled up a rickety stool situated at the front of the classroom, grimaced as he dusted off the seat, as if disgusted by the residue of teenagers and education, and gently perched himself on it before returning his snarl back to the fixed smile. Alan glanced at Webber who continued to look straight ahead without so much as a twitch. He supposed that the broad shouldered man would still be standing there, still as a statue, on Monday morning unless told to move by his boss.
"Alan," Peter smarmed, "May I call you, Alan?"
Before Alan could motion an answer Peter continued on anyway.
"Let me first tell you about myself. I'll be quick, don't worry! I understand how demanding a profession like yours must be, inspiring young minds and all!" With that comment, Peter broke out into a laugh which to Alan sounded like a tortoise with a bad cough.
The rest of the room was silent. "Well, I'm part of a family business, Evercom, perhaps you've heard of us?" Alan shook his head. "Ah, well, you have now! Myself and my two brothers run it. My father wanted it to remain in the control of relatives. You know how the ethos of companies can change if they get into the wrong hands?"
Alan knew all about companies abusing their responsibilities at the hands of power hungry executives. He wasn't entirely sure he wasn't sat in front of one now.
"We run a property investment company you see. We buy land cheap, usually it's part of an estate, the owner has sadly passed away and the poor families turn to us to take the grounds off their hands."
Said the spider to the fly, Alan thought.
"Well, anyway, some of this land is small, perhaps farmland that we can turn into accommodation to house poor families, or retail parks to help boost economies."
More like destroy conservation areas to build high class apartments for the super rich, Alan thought, or ruin local small businesses with big shopping malls filled with generic brands and franchises.
Peter leaned in closer, "Sometimes, it's land of a much more substantial scale. We've been known to practically renovate whole towns! Or huge portions of land, sometimes which have been on the mainland, and sometimes not. The ones I want to talk to you about, aren't on the mainland. They are islands."
Alan's brain suddenly clicked into gear as he realised what this man had come here to talk to him about. "Let me guess. These islands you've acquired access to. They just happen to be off the coast of Costa Rica, don't they?"
Mr Evers' forced smile slipped slightly, annoyed that Alan had figured it out before he had reached the end of his salesman's spiel.
"Yes, Dr. Grant," Peter said, staring Alan in the eyes. "They are."
Alan stood up and rolled his eyes, "Well, I think you've had a wasted trip, gentleman. I don't want to know anything about those islands."
"Sit back down, Dr Grant. I haven't even told you why I'm here," Alan remained standing. "Sit back down, or Webber here will come and help you into your chair."
There was a sense of tension in the air now. Alan glanced at the motionless man and thought about whether he could overpower him. Alan decided not to risk it. Even if he had been twenty years younger, the larger man was still built like a brick wall. He didn't know for sure, but he had a feeling that Webber wasn't the only weapon in Peter Evers' possession either.
Alan returned to his seat and Peter's oily grin returned, pleased with his own power. "Excellent. Now let me explain why we need your services, Dr Grant. We are having some…problems…on the Island. Don't get me wrong, we've hired the best and the brightest for most things, and the place is really thriving. I think you know what I mean when I tell you we have all the 'animals' under control."
Animals. Yeah, Alan knew exactly what that meant. He'd tried to keep his mind away from the islands since his last visit, but he couldn't help but take an interest in what had happened after he'd been rescued for a second time. As far as he was aware, there was a stand-off between the US and Costa Rica governments and InGen about the ownership of the land and what should happen to it. All the intelligence coming out of those discussions was that the dinosaurs had all been destroyed. Apparently he had heard wrong.
"You've been to the island," Peter continued. "You've seen these animals up close. You are the best and the brightest and we need you."
Alan leant forward. Looked at the man straight in the eye, "No."
"I thought you may be reluctant, Dr Grant, so we of course will provide you with some incentives."
Peter Evers nodded to Webber, who marched forward and put the briefcase on the desk. He tapped in the code and released the lock. He opened the case to show Alan an inside filled with $100 bills. There had to be almost a million bucks in that case. He felt like he was stuck in the middle of a gangster novel.
Webber closed the case and placed a brown folder on top of it. He pushed it towards Alan, motioning for him to read it. Alan was starting to wonder whether the mute man would only talk if Peter let him. Alan opened the folder and glanced at the first page which read 'Isla Nublar'.
He'd had enough. Alan slammed the folder shut. He didn't want to know any more. Aggressively, he pushed the briefcase and the folder back the other way. "I said no, gentleman. Now if you don't mind, I have work to do here. Please, if you could show yourself out."
Alan sat back down at his desk. It was now a stand-off, he realised. He was holding his breath, hoping the two men would leave. Peter Evers was looking him in the eye, all trace of a smile, fake or otherwise, vanished from his face. It was instead replaced by a grimace. Suddenly, the suited man broke out into a laugh. Not the fake tortoise hacking from before, but this time a genuine laugh, like he was the villain in a superhero movie.
"Oh, dear Dr. Grant," Peter wiped his eyes as his laughter faded, "What a wonderful performance. I have to hand it to you, I almost bought the act. 'Dedicated university lecturer turns down handfuls of cash to devote his life to his beloved students'," he mocked, as he rolled his eyes. "Please, Alan, don't insult my intelligence, and I won't insult yours. You think I don't know all about you?"
Alan was now the one with the grimace on his face. He suspected that Peter Evers had done his homework on him. If Jeremy's friend could access confidential and sealed files, then he had no doubt that the man in front of him, that seemed to just throw money around, travel with a trained mercenary who looked like he could break Alan's bones just by thinking about it, and could hire 'the best and the brightest' at the blink of an eye, could probably manage to find a way past Mrs. Spencer, the frail old Personnel Manager's security systems. Her computer password was her cat's name, for crying out loud. Alan had found that out by just standing next to her, as she read it out while typing it in.
"Oh, yes Dr Grant," Peter continued, "I know all about you. For one, the pile of essays on your desk aren't yours. They belong to a research assistant in the Bio Medical Science department called Anne Grisham. Pretty little thing, only in her thirties, all petite and perky."
Alan vaguely remembered the woman. He tried to avoid most the faculty at all cost, with just a few that he was close to. Although, Alan's standards of closeness was just someone he could sit next to at mandatory university social functions.
"Yes, lovely little Annie is rather taken with you, Dr Grant," Peter growled unrelentingly. "You see, she didn't actually leave those there by accident. She was rather hoping that you'd find them and bring them back to her. Bless her, she's rather young and thinks if she could just get your attention then you'd fall hopelessly in love with her. Well, we know better don't we?"
Alan thought about getting up and leaving, but a stern look from Webber suggested that Peter was far from done with his monologue and that he should sit down and shut up, if he knew what was good for him. If there was one thing Alan hated more than listening to people drone on, it was listening to them talk about him.
"In fact Alan, you've only had the two significant relationships in your life. The first was in your early twenties, when you were apparently young and naïve. Those were the days, huh?" Peter grinned "You had a loving girlfriend, Amy Novak. You were both students together, your eyes met over some dusty dinosaur bone, I'm sure. Then after university you moved in together and lived happily ever after. Quite the fairytale!"
Gritting his teeth, Alan sat through this tirade. The man had done his research. It wasn't an easy thing to listen to a stranger try and recount your life. Deep down though, Alan knew that he couldn't say anything that would hurt more than actually living through the worst moments of his life.
"Except there was no happy ending, was there? Otherwise you and Amy would be off in suburbia right now, painting a white picket fence and bouncing bonny grandchildren on your knee. No, I suppose that could never really happen once you found out that dear, sweet Amy was actually screwing your best friend! Ha!"
As he glanced up, Alan thought he saw Webber shift slightly at that last comment. He quickly dismissed it from his mind though. Or maybe his life was so pathetic that it could even move a mercenary to tears. That would be a depressing thought. He actually hadn't properly thought about Amy in years. While what he went through at the time was difficult, it was something he had long forgotten and forgiven. They were all kids at the time. His heart had been broken a lot more since then and it had remained that way.
"Yes, Terry and Amy rode off into the sunset. I mean, how were you to know they'd been having an affair. It's easy to miss your girlfriend sleeping with your closest friend only two months after you started dating her. Their relationship went on for years, Alan!"
Peter wasn't telling Alan anything he didn't know. He just sat back and let the man continue.
"So once bitten twice shy, eh? You didn't have a relationship for years after! That must have really hurt you, really made you distrustful of other people. Although, I suppose your Daddy issues didn't help either…" Peter tailed off, looking at Alan for a reaction.
He almost got one. Alan didn't want to talk about his father, and he certainly didn't want anyone else to either.
Peter smirked, "Well, we'll leave Mr Grant Senior to another time perhaps. I don't think we have enough hours in the day to pull at that thread. So, poor Dr. Grant, alone for years, literally out in the desert! Then along comes Ms. Sattler."
Alan tried not to flinch at Ellie's name. He figured that no reaction seemed to work best with this bastard.
"It's an age old story. Boy meets girl. Boy falls in love with girl. Boy takes girl to an island and almost gets her killed by dinosaurs. Really, just your average love story. Until you get to the part where girl goes and marries a lawyer and pops out two kids," Peter squinted his eyes, revelling in his malicious storytelling. "I do like a twist in the tale."
Alan silently chuckled to himself. This man knew nothing, not really. The things that happened couldn't be accessed by breaking into computers or talking to nosy neighbours. These were things that were locked in his heart and his head.
"After that, there's been no one. Well, I say no one. It would be fair to say you have 'slutted' it about town, Dr Grant," Kenneth stated, screwing up his nose. "Who needs love, eh, when you've got students and researchers throwing themselves at you left, right and centre? Although, I can't say I see why. It's not as though you have any money is it? Which is strange for a man like yourself who's sold themselves twice to go to an island containing dinosaurs. Oh, yes, I know, the first time you didn't know the dinosaurs were going to be there and the second time you were misled. The point is though, on both occasions, you never gave the money back."
Peter sat back down on the stool, and Alan wondered if he was done with the biography of his life.
"The fact is Dr. Grant, I'm not leaving you misinformed like John Hammond did. I'll let you know exactly what's on the Island. You can have all the details of the security systems in place. Anything you want changed, we'll do it. Anything you want put in, then we'll do it. We aren't misleading you like the Kirbys. I won't drag you to the island and throw you out of a plane. Everything we want you to do, we'll let you know right now. We've got detailed lists of every animal on that island, their behaviour and their heath. You won't be alone on the island. It's fully operational and fully staffed. This isn't a rescue mission and you aren't being used as a guinea pig for some cheap and tacky theme park."
Alan squinted his eyes at Peter Evers. He knew what the man said was true.
"We know you hate your job, Alan," Peter continued. "That you can't stand the students, you despise your fellow staff members, that you do the minimal amount of work to actually keep your job. We know you're only here because it just about pays the bills. That you threw all the money, every red cent you ever had, into the dig sites because the funding dried up. Here's where we can help. This is a week's work. You come to the island with us. You can take that briefcase full of cash, deposit it before we even leave the ground. Then, on your return we're going to give you another one of those briefcases, or a cheque if you prefer, I know how funny these banks can get, and you can quit this shitty place and go dig for dinosaurs to your heart's content! How's that grab you?"
Alan's lip quirked into a smile on the left side of his mouth. Peter was clearly done with the pitch and was now expecting Alan to fall at his side and take the money. He stood up.
"Gentleman, I want to thank you for your offer, but again I must say no," Alan said in a calm and clear voice.
"Now, just you hang on…" Peter interrupted, his round face warming up with frustration, like a pickled beetroot.
"No, Mr. Evers, you've said your piece!" Alan stated raising his voice, just slightly, "You think you know so much about me? You don't. 'On my return?' What on this earth makes you think I would come back in one piece? You can have all the safety features in the world, all the security; it doesn't change anything. I've heard it all before. In fact, I've heard it twice before! You think you can throw money at me, but it won't make a difference. Not now. Not at this point in my life. You think you can threaten me to go. I'm sure that's what will come next. The threats against my life, against my friends and family. Fine. Threaten away. I have no life, no friends and no family, as you, sir, have just stated. So if you want to kidnap me, take me away to the Island, do it. But let me tell you this, once I'm there I will do everything in my power to take down your business, even if it means I get killed in the process."
Alan leaned in now, displaying his authority, "Because, gentlemen. I have nothing to lose."
Alan stared into Peter Evers' cold, grey eyes, unable to truly predict how the steely businessman would react to his outburst. There was a slight wrinkle at the corner of the business man's eye as it began to twitch.
"Okay, Dr Grant," Evers slurred, as he stood up off the creaking stool. He nodded towards Webber, who moved out of his eerie stillness to collect the briefcase and the folder from the desk. "I said I wouldn't force you to come, and I'm a man of my word."
Breathing a sigh of relief, Alan leaned back from his poised position at the desk. It had seemed almost too easy. He watched as Webber nodded at him and guided Evers towards the door. Suddenly, the smaller man stopped and turned to face the palaeontologist.
"I'm sorry we couldn't do business this time, Dr Grant," Evers stated with false regret. "As much as my father wanted you to fill the position, there are others with your 'unique' experience of the islands. I'll just have to ask one of them."
With a sly grin, Peter Evers disappeared from the room, tailed by his unlikely, towering minder. Grant couldn't help but linger on the man's closing statement. All the names of the people who had made it off the islands ran through Alan's head. His mind stopped on one though. The only one that really mattered. He shook off the thought. They wouldn't go to her, she was more notoriously silent about the events of Jurassic Park than he was. Anyway, even if they did go to her, she wouldn't say yes. She certainly didn't need the money, or the fame, and was by far too bright to even think about going back.