Chapter 10

Jurassic Park

The helicopters roared forward, low over the ocean. It had been half an hour since they had left the Costa Rican mainland behind and headed out into the open ocean. The choppers flew along side by side, thirty feet above the waterline, their thumping rotors berating the ocean. Inside, the maps of the island had been packed away, and everybody was making final preparations before they arrived. Guiterrez was staring determinedly at Wu, with whom he was discussing Wu's research on the data they were to recover.

"How close were you to synthesizing a complete cure for this virus?" asked Guiterrez.

"Very close," said Wu, "We artificially induced DX into the bloodstreams of mice and then tried treating it. It was slow work, but eventually we got it right. We had to put everything on hold and hide the evidence of it on the highest level of security in the park, to stop anybody from the investigation team from stumbling over it. Hammond wanted to keep this quiet until we could get an adequate cure for this virus. When I went home for the weekend I didn't expect the entire island to go to hell, but I was planning to initialize human testing when I got back on Monday. But I never got the chance."

"So, it was still experimental?"

"Yes."

"So even if we recover the data it still might not be effective?"

"That is an absolute possibility."

"What odds do you give it of working?"

Wu sat back in his seat, and shrugged.

"I can't say for sure, but the tests went well when working on mice. I'd give it an 80 chance of being effective on humans."

"What if it doesn't work?"

Wu turned and looked him in the eye.

"Then god help us all."

Guiterrez nodded, and tried to refrain from glancing out of the window, and tried to keep the conversation going as long as possible to keep him occupied.

"How long will it take you to recover all of the data?" he said.

Wu brought out a portable hard drive the size of a postcard, holding it up to the light for Guiterrez to see, turning it over in his hands.

"If we don't run into any trouble, I can get the computers online in around ten minutes, but I can't say for sure. I never fully familiarized myself with the system, and it's been ten years since I've used it. Seeing as everybody else that could use it properly is now dead I can't ask for help. But getting the data should be no big deal. Once I've downloaded it to this portable hard drive, I can give the shutdown command and we'll get out of there."

On the other side of the chopper Harding and Malcolm were playing a game of chess on his laptop computer, looking rather bored. They had all grown used to the load whine of the helicopter; they felt that they had lived with it their entire lives. It was mid-morning, and outside the sun was beginning to rise higher in the sky. Rays of sunshine filtered in through the windows, making shafts of light that struck through the slight gloom. It was fairly peaceful; they had all managed to get a few hours sleep, and were revising their objectives in their minds. The pilots however looked uncomfortable, shifting in their seats, running through a final checklist. They had switched their radio off, to prevent any warnings they may receive. They kept glancing at either side of the cockpit, out of the large windows, as if hoping not to see any boats of aircraft. They didn't look happy when Tim had explained to them which maneuvers they would have to perform when they arrived at the island, and how vigilant they had to be. He had spent fifteen minutes detailing that if everything and anything was wrong they were to abort the landing, as the possibility of attack was very real. Despite the fact that Murphy had explained that the noise of the chopper should frighten any animals away, he wasn't going to take any chances. Now Tim was looking out of the window thoughtfully, staring blankly at the water, rushing past below.

He had been going over the plans for the expedition the previous night, and had inspected the infa-red data closer; he was troubled by what he had discovered. Something that made him uneasy, nervous, and sent chills through his body. He was beginning to have second thoughts about the expedition as he went over it again and again in his mind. Although he had refrained from mentioning it to the others, he was sure that whatever it meant, it wasn't good news. He had found that the nesting sites of most of the animals on the island never moved, they were maintained in very specific areas, which the dinosaurs defended aggressively. However, the nesting sites of the Velociraptors had changed periodically. The data had been collecting since the park was abandoned, compiling information from monthly satellite passes. And during the first few years the raptors had decided to make their nests at the southern tip of the island, inside a vast network of catacombs that had been constructed to keep flooding in check. Why they would travel so far from their holding pen he had no idea. But after the first few years the nests had started moving steadily northwards. It was done very gradually, bit by bit. Slowly, but surely. Until around three years ago the Velociraptors simply disappeared from the infa-red scans altogether. Their last recorded location was somewhere around their old holding pen. The Velociraptors had been the smartest and most dangerous animals that had been recreated, and had been a hazard from the very start. But how they had managed to simply vanish, he had no idea. To his knowledge there was nowhere on the island where they could hide, but it was possible that they had tried to swim away, but that was unlikely. It was a complete mystery to him, but he wasn't planning on telling anybody else about it. Malcolm would give him grief about it, give his doomsday speeches. Not that it mattered if the Velociraptors had disappeared, after all, they may have died out. In which case, it was a minor improvement to the island. He was sure that nevertheless, they'd encounter no trouble, so long as they kept to the plan.

Ten minutes later the pilot's intercom clicked.

"We're coming up on Isla Nublar now," he said.

Looking out, laid in front of them, they could see the small craggy outline had appeared in the distance, rising sharply out of the water. The helicopters rotor's thumping became loader as they accelerated towards the island, giving them all a rush of excitement. Everybody was leaning against the glass of their windows, straining against the plexiglass surface to see more. Malcolm and Sarah had stopped their game and the laptop was lying haphazardly in Ian's lap, as he looked out of the window. His face bore a mingled expression of interest and dread, he had promised himself that he would never go anywhere near this place ever again, but the excitement in the chopper was infectious. Guiterrez had momentarily forgotten his fear of flying, and was staring out at the island, his eyes dancing. They came inexorably closer; until they could see that Nublar was vast, stretching for miles along the horizon; eight miles long and three miles in diameter at the widest point, bulging rapidly in the north and tapering to a point in the south. Approaching from the north-east, they faced the highest peaks of the island's mountain ranges, the tops of which were high above them, past their field of vision. The mountains rose two thousand feet from the deep of the ocean, covered in jungle. At their base the sea looked angry, the water was being thrown against the cliff face, making the waves crash and boom, throwing plumes of water fifty feet into the air, before falling back down again. Foam was being thrown in every direction, swirling visibly in the currents as it landed on the surface of the water. As they came closer they could see that the island was shrouded in heavy fog, which clung to the side of the cliff face and gave the island an eerie and ominous look.

"The fog's pretty thick," said Guiterrez.

Tim nodded.

"According to the records of the geologists that worked at the park, Isla Nublar is almost always covered in a thick layer of fog, especially at these northern cliffs. It lies in an area where the ocean currents make it extremely common, which is why it was named Isla Nublar; which literally means Cloud Island."

"Are you sure that it's safe for the helicopters to land in this? I mean, we won't be able to see much," said Sarah.

"If we fly low enough we should be able to keep beneath the fog layer."

They were close now, and the water under them was turning a paler blue as the ocean became shallower. In front of them was a lone rocky outcrop that stood alone, jutting a hundred feet out of the ocean. Its surface was also covered in forest, but far more sparsely. A ring of beach lined its perimeter. The helicopter banked left to avoid it, and they flew around its side. The other chopper banked right, and flew around the other side, out of sight. As they flew past the outcrop Sarah glanced back at it, and something caught her eye. She turned in her seat to look at it, staring down at the surface. Something had moved; something long and black. She squinted, trying to see more clearly. She saw nothing. But she was sure she had seen something, moving on the cliff face. Malcolm had noticed her staring, and frowned.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I saw something down there," she said quietly, pointing through the window.

"You saw something?"

"Yeah, something moved."

Malcolm closed his eyes, as if receiving bad news. Tim leaned was staring at them, and walked over to them.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Sarah says she saw something moving down on that outcrop," said Malcolm.

"Moving? Like what?"

"I don't know," she said, "It was probably nothing."

"Should we turn around, sir?" shouted the pilot from up front.

"No, no, keep going," said Tim.

"Don't worry about it, it was nothing," she said.

Tim nodded and walked back to his seat. Through the window they saw the other chopper emerge from the other side of the outcrop and rejoin they're side. Malcolm still had his eyes closed, but he looked suddenly frightened.

"Ian?" Sarah said, "What's the matter?"

His eyes snapped open, and he gave a cough to clear his throat.

"Nothing, I'm fine," he said, not looking at her. She could see that he was hiding something.

"Ian, don't lie to me. What is it?"

Malcolm shifted uncomfortably.

"It's nothing, Sarah. Honest."

Sarah raised an eyebrow at him, and the side of his mouth twitched.

"Alright, I think you've just proven my theory about this expedition," he murmured.

"How so?"

He turned to look at her.

"I'm sure we'll see soon enough."

They were now only a quarter of a mile away from the base of the nearest mountains, which loomed over them, looking forbidding and mysterious. They could now clearly make out the details of the cliff sides, which were jagged and scarred, with the odd tree growing out lopsidedly from small ledges. Below them the water twisted and turned, smashing against the rocks. The roar of the ocean could now be heard over the beating of the rotors, ferociously slamming into the bottom of the cliff. They could now make out small indentations at the base of the mountains, where the sea had cut away at the rocks over thousands of years.

"How are we going to get past the mountains?" asked Guiterrez, "are we going to fly over the top of them?"

Tim shook his head.

"No, that would mean that we'd have to fly through the fog, and I don't want that. It's too dangerous. We could crash right into the cliff."

"How are we getting through then?"

"There are several valleys that run all the way through the mountains and into the island. And if I'm right, one of them should be just over here."

The pilot adjusted their heading and the chopper turned slightly, rushing forwards. As they came closer a small crack appeared in the mountains, only a few hundred yards wide. At ground level they could see thick, lush tropical rainforest that lined the ground; a small river flowed through the center. A large crescent of beach ran along the edge, a sharp contrast from the cliffs around it. As they flew over it, they could see that the water was calm and still, small waves washing slowly over the sand. It would have been the perfect holiday location, if it were not for the fact that it was home to some of the most efficient killing machines in history. But there was no sign of any life down there, just clear white sand. Then the beach was gone, and they flew on, into the valley. The other helicopter dropped back, behind them, following them closely. The valley was too narrow for them to fly side by side any longer. The shafts of sunlight that were filtering in through the windows cut off abruptly as they passed into the shade of the mountainside. Everybody was looking down at the jungle below them, looking for any sign of movement. But below them everything was still, tranquil. The chopper climbed several hundred feet to clear a small rise that was jutting out of the cliff. It banked sharply, twisting and turning through the tight valley. The pilots were looking around constantly, concentrating hard. Sweat dripped from their foreheads as they glanced jerkily around them, the pilot throwing the stick around with such force that it clanged audibly against the panel. They were going fast, too fast. They could no longer see the other helicopter; they just hoped that they were keeping up. The chopper shook momentarily as a howl of wind buffeted against its side.

"Jesus, why are we in such a hurry?" asked Guiterrez.

"Because," said Tim, "these valleys have bad wind shears. If we stay here too long we could be blown against the side of the mountain."

Guiterrez moaned and clung to his seat, his fingers digging into the cloth, turning his knuckles white. Tim had said it rather casually, but Guiterrez found the words full of dread. That was all he needed, to crash into the side of this goddamn mountain. They flew on, the jungle whipping past below. As they turned a tight corner, a large tree loomed into sight, growing out sideways from the cliff, blocking their path. It was a large palm tree, if they hit it the chopper would not survive. It was close, too close. The chopper would impact the thick trunk any second.

"Oh my god!" shouted Guiterrez.

"Hang on!" said the pilot.

He threw the stick forwards, lowering the collective as he went. The nose of the helicopter tilted downwards sickeningly, so much so that they could see the rainforest below through the windshield. The chopper dived, plummeting downwards. As they passed the tree the pilot pulled the stick towards him. The chopper's nose tilted upwards again, and the trees below disappeared from the windshield. The pilot took them back up to their previous height in one flowing move, the chopper's engine whining from the strain. Looking into his mirror, he could see that the other chopper had copied they're every move, and was close behind them. All the blood had drained from Guiterrez's face, and he sat facing forwards, not moving. After a moment he spoke in a strangled voice.

"Are we still alive?" he said.

"Yes, Marty, we're still here," said Sarah.

The choppers continued to twist and turn through the mountains, occasionally shaking from turbulence. Martin said nothing else, but continued to stare forwards, as white as a sheet. His breath had a rasping, shuddering property. Wu leaned over to talk to Tim over the roaring of the engine, and the howl of the wind.

"Do you think we'll see any of the animals?" he shouted.

"What, you mean when we land?" Tim shouted back.

"No, I mean, as we fly over the island. Will we see anything?"

Tim shrugged.

"Probably. Most of the animals live in the forest, but some of the larger species have no choice but to remain in the open. I wouldn't be surprised if we see a few species of herbivores, possibly a carnivore."

"Are you sure there are no, you know, flying dinosaurs here?"

Tim laughed.

"Flying dinosaurs? The Pterosaurs weren't actually dinosaurs, but flying reptiles. And there was a species of Pterosaur kept here named Cearodactyl. But I'm sure that they could no longer be alive here."

"Why is that?"

"Because they were kept in an aviary, about half a mile wide. Without feeding from external sources, they would have long exhausted their food supply."

"What if they escaped? Could they attack the chopper?"

Tim thought for a moment, and then shook his head.

"I doubt it. They mainly ate fish, and the chopper's blades would keep them away."

Wu nodded and sat back in his seat.

After flying for almost a mile through the twisting valley, they turned a final corner, only to see that the valley ended in an abrupt cliff. They all breathed in unanimously, staring at the rock in front of them. They were trapped.

"Jesus Christ," shouted the pilot. He pulled back on the stick and chopper bucked, the nose pointing skywards. They could no longer see how close they were to the cliff, all they could see were the puffy white clouds above. In his mirror the pilot saw the other chopper swoop around the corner and realize what was happening. It was so close to them that it had to swerve sideways to avoid crashing into them, performing the same bucking movement at the same time. Gradually, the choppers slowed, until they started to drift slowly backwards. The pilot eased the stick back into the middle, and the chopper righted itself smoothly. To their right, they could see the pilot in the other chopper, who was glaring at them, wild eyed. The cliff that was blocking their way was a mere twenty feet from the nose of their helicopters. Marty hadn't made a sound, but he looked traumatized.

"Sir?" said the pilot, "What do we do?"

"Go over the top," said Tim.

"Through the fog?"

"It's the only way."

The pilot nodded, and flicked on the radio. He turned the dial slowly, resetting the channel. Then he flicked a switch.

"Tango 390, this is Golf 625, Big Papa wants us to climb over the top, over," he said.

"Roger that, Golf 625, over and out," said the pilot of the other chopper.

Everybody was grinning helplessly at the message.

"Big Papa?" asked Malcolm, smirking.

Tim laughed.

"It's just a precaution, to prevent anybody from figuring anything out," he said. Everybody continued to smile, trying not to laugh. Even Guiterrez was chuckling under his breath. The pilot raised the collective stick, the engine gave a whine of protest, and then they began to slowly rise. They shot upwards, towards the sky. All around them the forest appeared to be sinking. As they flew higher the forest began to thin out, the rocks covered more sparsely. And then they entered the fog, and disappeared into endless white. They could no longer see the cliff around them. Occasionally a tree would loom out of the sea of inky whiteness, scratching against the fuselage. The pilots were looking around constantly, checking for any signs of cliff, as they had no point of reference to tell them where they were. They continued to fly upwards for several minutes, the whine of the engine growing loader in their ears. The wind howled all around them, making the chopper shudder continuously. The stick in the pilots hand jumped around, and he grunted in effort to keep it under control. Guiterrez had his eyes closed, and was muttering under his breath. Several minutes later they blasted through the roof of the fog layer, and burst into bright sunlight. The chopper came to a hover a few feet above the dense fog, and they all blinked in the sudden absence of the wind. Before them lay a blanket of white as far as the eye could see, stretching out, towards the horizon. The very tops of the mountains poked through; small islands in a sea of cloud. With a roar the other chopper burst through the layer of cloud on their right, coming up to hover beside them once more, wisps of white trailing from it. Tim came up to the partition between the cockpit and the main fuselage, and pointed ahead of them, to an area on the other side of the mountain tops.

"There. If we pass the mountain tops there, we can descend through the clouds," he said.

The pilot nodded, and the chopper's nose tilted slightly and they began to move forward. They glided over the fog, passing the points of rock. Passing them, the pilot pushed the chopper into a sharp dive, the nose of the chopper pointing downwards, the mist filling the windshield. And they plummeted, back into the fog. Beside them, they caught a glimpse of the other chopper copying them for a moment, and then they were once again surrounded by mist. They all felt themselves lighten considerably as they flew downwards, and floated up slightly, restrained only by their seat belts. Tim however, who was still standing at the partition, had to grab the headrest on the pilot's seat to stop himself flying upwards. The chopper was vibrating once more. They were falling fast, unseeing. The other chopper was lost in the haze, but they could hear the beating of its rotors nearby. The sunshine was filtering down, through the fog, giving everything a slightly yellow tinge. Due to the speed of their descent, it wasn't long before they broke through the mist, to see Isla Nublar laid out before them. The pilot righted the chopper, and hovered in position, waiting for their escort. A few seconds later the other chopper appeared slightly in front of them, the nose tilting upwards, slowing the descent. The pilot turned expectantly to Tim, who was staring out of the windshield, his face tense, unreadable.

Malcolm was looking out of his window, bearing the same expression that Tim had shown. Here he was, back at a place that he had hoped that he would never see again. From his vantage point he could see the whole island, trailing away to the south. He noticed that the fog layer was almost non-existent on most of the island. In fact, it appeared to only be on the northern and eastern slopes. Ian turned to Tim.

"Hey, why did we go through the fog if we could have just circled around the edge of the island and approached from the west, wouldn't it have been a lot easier?" he said.

Tim glanced away from the windshield, and shook his head.

"I'm afraid not. The Costa Rican Department of Biological Reserves is watching all the waters around the Las Cinco Muertes island chain, approximately eighty miles south-west from here. If we approached from the south or the west they'd see us and alert the mainland. And we don't want them coming out here to find that the island still harbors living dinosaurs. So approaching from the north is really the only option."

"Ah," said Malcolm.

He turned back to the window, and inspected the island briefly. It was mostly covered with thick, tropical jungle; a beautiful sight. In some areas large fields were visible, like bald patches in the jungle's surface. Several lakes were sprawled out over the land, and near the very center of the island was a large lagoon. Running from north to south was a thin gap in the trees, but it was too small for them to see down into it. But Malcolm knew that it must be the island's river, which ran for miles throughout the park. They all looked around fervently, but at they saw no dinosaurs. No signs of life.

"Are you sure that dinosaurs still live here?" asked Guiterrez.

"I'm positive," said Tim, "it's possible that during the heat of the day they retreat into the forest. Anyway, from this altitude we wouldn't be able to see anything."

In the distance, at the foot of the western mountains, was a clearing which contained the remnants of the helipad that Ian had landed on all those years ago. A spectacular cascading waterfall stood behind it, falling into a pool which lined the pad. To the northwest, they could see the faint outline which had once been the park's main perimeter, and the visitor area. Neatly spaced and elaborately designed, several large buildings were clustered in a large clearing. It was clear that they had once gleamed, spotless. But now they lay crumbling, laced with vegetation. The jungle was slowly reclaiming its land, overtaking the structures. The visitor centre stood crumbled, it's glass smashed. Large pieces of the building had been broken away. A small structure that looked like a concrete shed stood several hundred feet behind it. The Velociraptor holding pen was nearby, and even from their altitude they could see that it was severely damaged. Set aside was a long building, with pyramids of glass lining the rooftops. It was surrounded by a heavy black fence, which unusually had remained untouched. In fact, the building itself looked far better than the rest of the structures surrounding it.

"What's that?" asked Malcolm, pointing to the building.

"The Safari Lodge," said Wu. "The visitor's quarters. It was strengthened to the point of impregnability, to prevent dinosaur incursion in the event of an escaped raptor."

"I thought escape was impossible," said Malcolm, smiling slightly.

"Hammond didn't want to take any risks," shrugged Wu.

"If that place was so strong, why didn't we go there when the power went down?"

"Because it was too far away. As you can see, it's a fair distance from the visitor centre."

"Why does it look so untouched?"

Wu frowned.

"I don't know."

Tim spoke from the partition at the front, still scanning the island.

"The lodge was purposefully separated from the tree line, in case a storm damaged the fencing. If the raptors somehow got out during such a storm that we endured during our visit, the people at the visitor centre and the other buildings could take shelter in the emergency bunker, and the visitors would be safe. So, the forest is taking far longer to retake the lodge, because it was originally separated from it."

Malcolm nodded, and turned back to surveying the terrain.

"Where to, sir?" asked the pilot, looking around at them.

Tim pointed south.

"There. It's a concrete building at the southern tip; you'll know it when you see it. But skirt the edge of the mountains; I don't want to disturb the animals too much."

The choppers moved southwards, running along the western mountain range. They all continued to look out at the park below them, but they saw nothing. The jungle was too dense to see through to the ground. Excitement was buzzing through all of them.

"How much further?" asked Guiterrez, after two minutes.

"Another three miles, perhaps," said Tim.

Malcolm sat surveying the beautifully sunlit landscape, and the chopper seemed to slowly drift away, his surroundings disappearing, as he remembered back to his first visit to this place. He couldn't help a smile crossing his face, as he remembered the words of a proud old man so long ago.

"Welcome, to Jurassic Park."