CHAPTER 4 – STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND

Jurassic Park was the largest potential goldmine of knowledge that had ever existed, especially for me. For a veterinarian, there was nowhere else in the world or in history where behaviour and anatomy of animals which had long been extinct could be studied to such an extent. For somebody like me, it's very difficult to get your name in the books. Everything major, with any real importance had been mapped, studied and published over a hundred years ago. It's getting increasingly difficult to find anything new to study and to make yourself known, because it had all been done.

Well, almost everything.

As much as bones could tell you – which was a surprising amount, considering muscle connections, weight stresses, diet, speed etc – there was no way to know about their intimate social processes, their cognitive processes, their living, mortal behaviour. For all intensive purposes, it was gone, and would always be gone. How could a giant lizard's behaviour have affected the Earth's timeline in such a way in which it could be accurately and easily measured by an ape-like creature staring a rock, a hundred and fifty million years into the future?

Obviously, it was foolish. Which was a handicap for the scientific community, seeing as almost every animal which had ever lived was dead and gone. We only have the behaviour of 0.01% of all the animals of the planet's history to study. What could be represented by such lost behaviour? Well, Jurassic Park was the only opportunity in history to 'rescue' and liberate some of it.

The time that I spent there was the most fascinating time of my life. I was shocked by the extent of social activity which the dinosaur showed; everybody had always assumed that they had been solitary, in conformation with the stereotypical image of the reptilian solidarity. All museum displays showed the same swamp scene mural painted on the wall: the lone Triceratops standing in front of the rearing great Tyrannosaurus Rex, with a couple of giant Sauropods silhouetted in the background of a heavily clouded sky. But in fact I found that almost every one of the species presented to me in the park was highly sociable; I used to sit in his car and look out at the huge herds of dinosaur wheeling and running across wide open fields at sunset. There was nothing more serene and peaceful.

But my greatest discovery, by far, was their anatomy. Of everything, the hardest thing to study had always been blood, and tissues. Without studying a living specimen, there was no way to know things such as skin tones, vocalizations, blood types and viruses – and the list went on. Whether or not it had been an error made by Wu and his team or not, it became immediately clear that the dinosaurs had one thing in common; nucleated red blood cells. This phenomenon is usually found only in birds – which are now suspected to be the only living descendants of the dinosaurs. However, dinosaurs were descended from swaggering, lumbering lizard-like creatures which were far more ancient than themselves, who were closely related to modern reptiles, which retain the un-nucleated red blood cells. This means that there must have been some transitional period between the un-nucleated cells, and the nucleated cells. It seems that it had happened very early indeed, because all of the dinosaurs that were introduced into the park had them.

My research was going to be groundbreaking when the park went public; I'd have my name down in history as the first professional to study living, breathing dinosaurs. As part of my contract I was allowed to present anything which I discovered as my own work, which I found fantastic. I guess all InGen wanted was the money. After my first three years at the park I had three books planned, and enough research papers to fill a dump truck.

Jerry Harding, 1995

Jerry Harding

October 3rd, 1990

Ridge Road, Tyrannosaur Paddock, Isla Nublar

Jerry accelerated, and the Jeep Wrangler's tires screeched as he rounded the corner, two hundred feet above the valley floor. A plume of dust was blown up behind him, and a few pebbles were sent scattering down into the cliff-side. The ridge road was cut into the mountain, and sharp cliffs lay below him, as well as above him, the mountain rising another five hundred feet above him on the right side.

Below him he could see the whole park extended away from him to the south. Most of what he could see was endless, unbroken greenery; a carpet of jungle which covered the majority of the island. However, at several intervals the canopy of the jungle was broken in long, thin lines which were barely visible to the average person. But Jerry was out here damn near every day, and he knew the exact layout of the park. The breaks in the jungle were the security perimeters of each paddock; twenty-five foot high chain link electrified fencing, thirty foot wide concrete moats, a dozen miles of tarmac roads and a two mile long man-made river, which extended from a lagoon positioned near the centre of the island.

The road began to gently slope downwards, towards the valley floor. He felt his stomach rise upwards, and he felt an off sensation in his abdomen as he soared down the slope into the darkness which lay underneath the jungle canopy. The suspension squealed as the road levelled out, and his body rose upwards until his seatbelt pulled at his clavicle, tethering him to his seat.

He hit a button on the door next to him, and the driver door window rolled down with a click. The jungle sounds outside filtered in, filling his ears. Cicadas, frogs and primates leaping around in the trees, mixed in with the odd, ethereal cries which floated through the trees. His air conditioned comfort was distorted by the hot air which blew in through the open window, but was quickly replaced by the cooling effect of the wind.

The road below him was smooth tarmac; this road had only been completed two months before by the construction crews, and it would eventually make up part of the tour road where the cars would drive around the paddocks in their luxury cruisers. Beside him, on one side was a ten foot high cyclone fence, which had signs which read 'Caution; electricity' at each concrete based section. At intervals two lights, one red and one blue, were positioned at the top of each vertical fence section, slowly alternating between on and off.

Up ahead, at the side of the road was a large wooden sign, painted white with blue labels positioned along its vertical length.

RIDGE ROAD INTERSECTION

Maintenance Road; J-E

Ridge Road; South-East

Lagoon; South-West

Harding touched the brakes, and the Wrangler skidded in the gravel, as the double fork in the road appeared in front of him, three separate roads leading off into the jungle in different directions. Up ahead, at the side of the road, he could see a large flatbed truck, the warning lights flashing. Several large workmen were standing around the back of the truck, waving and hollering to each other. Strapped to the back of the vehicle was a slumped greenish/brown mass, which slowly rose and fell every few seconds. He was looking at a medium sized dinosaur's long, curved back.

Jerry applied the brakes, and pulled to a stop, staring through his windshield at the men as they worked. Reaching down, he flicked on his radio with a burst of static, and unclipped the mouthpiece from the dashboard. He changed his channel to seven, and pressed the transmit button.

"Unit three, this is Harding, come in, over," he said calmly, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Ahead of him he saw one of them men's head pop up, alert. He then dashed around the side of the vehicle, towards the cab, disappearing inside. A moment later there was a hiss of static, and then a heavy Spanish accent.

"Yes, Dr. Harding, sir," the voice said.

"Hey, Rodriguez," said Harding, "what you got there?"

The man's head popped out of the cab, and looked this way and that, finally spotting him moments later and giving him a cheerful wave. "Hypsy, sir. Muldoon wants her moved from confinement to the park setting with the others while her medication takes effect. Something about orders from up top; they need all animals integrated into the park setting ASAP."

"He said that?"

"Yes, sir," Rodriguez said slowly, as if unsure.

Harding paused for a moment; he hadn't heard from Muldoon about that. The Hypsilophodonts had been having skin problems over the last few months, and Harding had been treating this one for scratch wounds over the weekend. Not that it was a big deal moving her back; she was fine. And orders were orders.

"Sure, carry on," he said eventually, giving a final wave as he turned left, accelerating down onto the maintenance road. He placed the mouthpiece onto the clip in the dashboard as the car made the transition from the tarmac road onto the freshly cut forest path, which was wide enough for two way traffic, but it was merely more than a mud track. The trees here were much closer to the side of the Jeep; ferns slapped against the side of the door, and a few leaves reached in through the open window, brushing his face. He rested his shoulder on the lip of the door, and accelerated forwards, rounding a corner in the dim light which reached the floor beneath the canopy of the jungle. The fence at his side reached an intersection for a moment, and then the ten-foot high, relatively flimsy looking fence was replaced by an impressive structure, twenty-five feet high. It towered above him, the metal wires thick and elastic, and the concrete base six feet wide. You'd need a tank to get past it. Behind it was a large valley, an extensive paddock stretching off into the distance.

Through the trees he could just about see the break where the north-east edge of the lagoon marked the other side of the enclosure. But through the fence there was nothing to be seen, except trees, and grass.

Jerry drove around a last corner, and then the road sloped upwards again, out of the jungle. He stepped on the accelerator, revving the engine as he climbed up out of the canopy again. He reached a small rise, set aside from the fence, raising him some forty feet into the air. From here he was just above the tree line, and was provided with a perfect view of the entire paddock. On his right was a small patch of grass which had been cleared out of the jungle. It had long muddy gouges cleared out of the ground where he had parked up here before.

He spun the wheel in his hand and pulled off the road, following the tracks around in the grass until the bonnet faced forwards into the paddock. He clicked off the engine, and sat for a moment in the sudden silence, the distant chorus of the jungle reaching his ears. Looking out through the trees, he scanned the entire paddock for almost a minute, feeling the sweat collect on his brow in the heat.

After several minutes, he couldn't see anything.

Odd, he thought. She was usually down by the lagoon shoreline this time of day.

He reached for the radio, and picked up the mouthpiece. He changed over to channel two, and pressed 'transmit'.

"Control, this is Harding," he said, opening the driver door and stepping out into the tall grass.

The radio crackled for a moment.

"Control," a rough voice said. It was John Arnold, the head technician; chain smoking at forty-three years of age, he was a tall black man who typed like a bastard.

"I'm over at the Rex paddock; pull up the tracker for me would you? I'm having a hard time finding her today."

"Sure. One minute."

There was the sound of rapid typing which filtered over the radio. Harding reached into the Jeep, and pulled out a clear plastic bag containing his lunch; fried chicken on buttered bread. Grabbing the mouthpiece, he pulled it out on the extendable, soft chord, and ran it out of the door. Jumping up onto the bonnet with the radio, he opened the plastic bag, and brought out his sandwich, taking a bite. He waited for Arnold, propping his back up against the windshield and crossing one leg over the other.

The radio squawked.

"Okay, Tyrannosaur paddock. I'm reading her."

"Where is she?"

"South-east, near the feeding area."

The feeding area was a field where they'd feed the adult Tyrannosaurus Rex every day. She'd got pretty good at knowing when and where she was going to get her food; turns out you could teach a lizard the size of a house where her food bowl was.

He unclipped a little pocket attached to his belt, and pulled out a small pair of binoculars. Lifting them to his eyes, chewing, he looked through down into a large field in the south-east, scanning the area.

And then, like an explosion, a flock of white birds burst from the canopy, and flew up into the air. Harding grinned through a mouthful of bread as he swung his binoculars over, and looked down at her.

She stood stock still at the periphery of the field, eerily so. Her head bobbed up and down with each breath. Her massive jaws worked once, opening and closing silently. Her eyes were fixated on the centre of the field, at the red bloody mass sprawled in the grass. They supplied her with a fresh goat every three days, but she usually always ate the whole thing. Today she had hardly touched it.

She wasn't eating.

Frowning, Harding swallowed, and clicked the radio on.

"John, the Tyrannosaur's acting strangely again."

There was a brief pause, and then John spoke over the sound of his typing.

"We've had reports from some of the rangers about that for the past few days; acting erratically, especially when she's fed."

"She's not eating," Harding said, "you think it's her bowels?"

"I'm not sure. Reports say she's drinking fine, and she's eating a little. But she's leaving the carcasses out."

Harding scratched his head, watching her. She seemed hesitant, but it wasn't that. A forty foot long lizard wasn't afraid of much. She seemed to be almost frustrated. He watched as she waved her tiny forearms in the air, her jaws working again.

As she did so, she shuddered, and shook her head.

"Hey John, we better get some rangers down here with some tranquiliser" he said into the mouthpiece, "I think she's got toothache."

Harding stood over the immense body of the Tyrannosaur, which breathed slowly, the massive chest heaving in and out with each breath. Workmen ran this way and that, securing thick wires which ran horizontally across her body at ten foot intervals, tethering her to the ground.

It was one thing to get her down. It was another to keep her there.

"How does it look, Jerry?" said Muldoon from the heavy swinging tail, adjusting his hat on his head.

Harding stared down into the gaping mouth of the dinosaur, the six inch teeth glinting in the sunlight.

"She's got some kind of gum infection," Harding said, lifting the thick lips to the side with what looked to him like a giant toilet brush.

"How bad is it?"

"I bet it's painful, but it's nothing serious. If we give her a good scrub every now and then she'll be alright."

Muldoon stood in his khaki shorts, and laughed at the prospect of brushing her teeth. "Alright, Jerry, we'll keep her fangs nice and shiny. Make sure those pearly whites glow pretty when this place opens up."