Chapter 18
Power
"Wow," said Sarah, stopping in her tracks and staring ahead.
"What is it?" asked Tim, looking at her apprehensively.
"It's just ah…well," stuttered Sarah.
"A shit-heap," finished Guiterrez in a feigned cheery voice.
They had finally reached the edge of the jungle, and were overlooking a mass of dark grey, square buildings made of concrete. The buildings sat in a clearing around the size of a football field, which had obviously been well kept at one point. But now the jungle was regenerating, reclaiming land which had been lost to it. The concrete was laced thickly with vines and leaves, and the buildings had a weathered, worn look about them. The concrete was pitted in several places, and the communication spires that jutted out into the sky from the largest of the buildings were rusted and bedraggled. They had reached the geothermal power plant.
"Well, it's not that bad," said Tim, "it should still work fine."
"Well, where too?" said Anderson, turning to Tim.
Tim pointed to the large building, from which the communication spires protruded. "The power plant facility is in there," he said, "but that," he pointed to a smaller, hut-like building that looked like a World War 1 bunker, "is the control room. We're going to need to split up."
Guiterrez groaned. "Why did I know you were going to say that?" he asked.
Tim ignored him. "I'll go to the control room, and the rest of you will go to the power facility," he said slowly.
"You expecting there to be dinosaurs in here?" said Rodriguez.
"No," said Tim irritably, "I don't."
"Okay, fine," said Guiterrez, "but just how are we supposed to communicate while we're separated?"
Tim sighed, and scratched his head.
"There should be some portable walkie-talkies in the control room," said Wu, "InGen had them stashed all over the island when I worked here. We can all go inside; check the place out, then we can go over to the power facility."
"Ready?" said Tim, grasping the heavy handles of the door of the bunker-like building.
Anderson and Sarah nodded, training their guns on the door, ready for anything that might be inside.
"Okay. On the count of three," breathed Tim.
"One."
Anderson's finger moved into position in front of the trigger of his rifle, and hovered there, ready.
"Two."
Sarah's eyes narrowed and she removed the safety of the handgun silently, and took a steadying breath.
"Three!"
Tim gave the door handle an almighty wrench. The hinges squealed so loudly that it hurt his ears, and the steel door groaned. Slowly the entire door started to tilt forwards. The hinges separated from the doorframe, and fell to the ground with a clatter. Tim jumped clear as the entire door fell forward, and slammed the ground with a massage bang, making the air shudder and reverberate, leaving a gapping black hole in the wall.
"…Hmm," said Tim in the sudden silence.
"The door just fell off…" said Guiterrez quietly.
"Yes well, at least we can go inside now," whispered Tim with an uncomfortable shrug.
They all stared into the darkness that lay beyond the doorframe. The sound of dripping water echoed throughout the facility, and the air that drifted through the door smelled damp and stale. There was no growling, or the scratching of claws on concrete. Just the steady drips of water, as if somebody had left the tap on in the bathroom sink.
"So? How does it look?" asked Rodriguez.
Anderson raised his rifle, and twisted the light underneath the barrel. It gave a small click as it snapped into position and the space beyond the door was filled with a harsh bluish light.
They were facing a long corridor, around ten feet wide and made of the same concrete as the surrounding buildings. The walls were covered thickly with wines, and were smeared with grime. The floor was covered with detritus, the accumulated filth of over a decade. In the middle of the corridor, only a few feet from them, there was a small crack in the ceiling. Water was trickling down through the crack, and was slowly dripping into a puddle that had built up on the floor.
"It's okay," said Anderson, "let's move."
He stepped into the building, hastily followed by the others. They walked along the gloomy corridor in silence, their breaths amplified by the enclosed space.
"So, where's the control room?" asked Anderson, not taking his eyes off the corridor ahead.
"Right here," said Tim, stopping in his tracks. The others stopped, and turned to where he was standing. There was a small recess built into the wall on the right hand side, going back a few feet. Inside it there was a heavy metal door that looked extremely thick, with a locking mechanism the size of a man's fist. There was a square glass pane built into the door at shoulder height, which was faded and scratched.
"…Okay," murmured Guiterrez, "How are we supposed to get in?"
Tim moved forward and grasped the handle. "The locking mechanism is only operational when the power is active," he said, and turned the handle. The door groaned, and Tim gave it a tug. The door moved slowly outwards, and came to rest against the wall with a faint thud.
The room beyond was a fifty square foot room which was filled with electronic equipment. Rows of servers lined the wall to the left, dented and rusted. There was a bank of computer terminals facing the right wall, which was covered in dials, knobs, and rows of lighting bulbs. Anderson ran his light over everything in turn, surveying it closely.
Tim rubbed his hands together excitedly.
"Excellent, this should all still work," he said, walking over to the nearest computer terminal.
"That won't work with the power out, will it?" asked Sarah, running her hands over the servers idly.
"No. You guys will have to go over the generator and start it up first, and then I can pull it online from here."
"Okay, then we need a way to communicate," said Anderson, "where are those radios you were talking about?"
Tim said nothing, inspecting the wiring that led from the computer, but pointed towards the back of the room, where there was a large grey locker.
Anderson walked over to it, and shone his light over the surface. There was a padlock securely fastened onto it, connecting the grating on each side of the seam of the door. Anderson turned back to Tim.
"Where's the key for the lock?"
"How should I know?" said Tim, brushing away the question with an irritable wave of his hand, bending over the computer, and checking the monitor.
Anderson turned to Wu, who put his hands up, and shook his head, shrugging.
Anderson sighed, and pulled the gun strap off his shoulders. Flipping the gun over, he pulled it over his head, ready to strike, butt facing downwards. He brought it down with a crash, and the padlock shattered, falling to the floor. He opened the door with a flourish, and stared inside. There was a bank of bulky portable radios and headsets lined along on the shelves of the locker, covered in dust and laced with cobwebs.
Suddenly, with a terrified shriek, a rat crawled from the bottom of the locker and raced along the floor towards the corridor.
"Jesus!" growled Guiterrez in distain as the rat ran between his legs.
With a shake of his head, Anderson turned back to the locker and pulled one of the radios out of the rack. He twisted the dial, but nothing happened. He tried several other radios, but all of them were dead.
"No big surprise there," said Wu with a shrug.
"There must be some extra batteries around here somewhere," murmured Anderson.
"Down the corridor, turn left, and then left again. There's a utility room, there should be some in there," said Tim absently from under the desk where the computer terminals lay, surrounded by bundles of cables.
"Okay," said Anderson, "Wu, Guiterrez and Rodriguez, with me. Malcolm and Sarah, stay here with Tim."
Ian gave a wave of his hand in acknowledgment, sitting down slowly in an ancient looking office chair, and resting his leg up onto another, a drawn and pained expression showing on his face.
Guiterrez, Wu, Anderson and Rodriguez left the room, their echoing footsteps slowly fading as they set off down the corridor. Sarah crouched down beside Malcolm, taking out a bottle of water and handing it to him. He drank thirstily, breathing slightly faster than usual.
"How's the leg?" she asked.
"Oh, it's fine. I'm just glad it's still there," answered Malcolm dismissively, although he winced slightly, and shifted in the chair.
"Ian," she said, "be serious. This wound could easily become infected, especially in this climate."
"Look, I'm fine," he muttered firmly, sitting further back in the chair. "I just need to close my eyes for a while."
Sarah left his side, and walked over to Tim.
"What are you doing?" she asked curiously, peering at him as he worked on the cables underneath the computer terminals.
"I'm checking the power conduits, and the network connection lines. After all this time, they could have deteriorated."
"Erm… what does that mean?" she asked, scratching her head a little.
"I'm making sure everything's still plugged in," he said, flashing a small smile.
"Oh…Well, how is it?"
Tim pushed himself out from underneath the desk, and dusted off his hands. "It all looks fine. Couple of rodents have chewed the rubber insulation in places, but the wiring is intact."
"So we just have to go over and turn the power on?"
Tim gave a small laugh. "It's not like switching on a kitchen light—"
Guiterrez and Rodriguez rounded the corner and entered the room, carrying a large cardboard box each and looking quite pleased with themselves. Wu and Anderson entered after them, checking the corridor before he left the doorway.
"What's all this?" asked Tim, frowning, "We send you to get a couple of batteries and you come back with two whole boxes?"
"We found the batteries, but there was also all of this stuff," said Rodriguez happily, opening the lid folds of his box. Inside, there was a jumbled assortment of devices, and a good smattering of packing foam. On the left was what looked like a miniature black leather briefcase, only about a foot wide. On the right there was a rack of long cylinders bearing the InGen logo, with delicate pins protruding from the top.
"What's all this?" asked Sarah in puzzlement. Tim however, was smiling.
"The cylinders on the right are gas grenades. Pull the pin, toss it and bang. Paralyses anything within a twenty foot radius, depending on wind speeds."
"And this?" Sarah asked, picking up the mini-briefcase. She opened the lid, and peered inside. Inside was a pistol like device, and four long darts, and a phial of green liquid, all encased in molded packing foam.
"Tranquilizer gun," said Tim, "it won't be much use on anything larger than a few tones, but it'll give us an option other than lethal force on any of the smaller animals."
"Mmm, yes, I've always wanted a pet dinosaur," said Guiterrez, opening the lid on his box.
His box contained two long coils of nylon rope, six torches, and several large boxes of batteries.
"Could come in handy," said Anderson, shrugging, and starting to pack the rope into his rucksack.
Wu took a box of batteries, and set to work by installing them into the torches, and checking that they all worked properly. Anderson took another box, and took them over to the locker where the radios were kept.
He took one out, and removed the back. He blew inside to displace the accumulated dust, and inserted a battery. He took a deep breath, and twisted the dial. The power indicator light glowed a brilliant green, and Anderson smiled.
"Hey," he said to the other, holding it out for them to see, "it works."
"Good," said Tim, standing up. "We'll need a radio and headset each, so that's six."
While Anderson snapped the batteries in place on several other radios, Tim walked over to Malcolm, who was nodding off in his chair.
"Ian," he said, making Malcolm's eyes jump open, "are you okay?"
Malcolm sat up straighter in his chair, "I'm fine. Just a little tired."
Tim stared at him for a moment, frowning.
"Okay guys," said Anderson, coming forward and handing everybody a radio and headset, "let's go."
"I'll stay here, get the system up and running once you activate the generator," said Tim, sitting down in the chair that sat before the main computer terminal.
"Alright, you can guide us via radio?" asked Anderson.
"Sure, easy. Shouldn't take more than a few minutes if we hurry."
Everybody zipped up their rucksacks, and the room was full of shuffling as they shifted them onto their shoulders. Anderson checked the sights on his rifle, and moved towards the door. Malcolm made to get out of his chair, wincing slightly.
"Ian, you should stay here too," said Tim, not looking up from the computer terminal.
"What for?" Malcolm said.
"I could use the company. This place gives me the creeps."
Malcolm hesitated for a moment, but winced again, and sank back into his chair.
"Alright guys," said Anderson, "let's move out."
The tropical sunlight stung their skin like needles after the damp and relative cool of the control bunker, their skin contracting under the harsh rays. Anderson moved ahead of the rest of the group, training his rifle in a wide arc, checking for any signs of movement.
They were walking across a wide open field that spanned the distance between the control and generator buildings. They all had a radio in their back pockets, a cable protruding from it that connected to the headsets on their heads. Wu, Rodriguez, Sarah and Guiterrez were carrying four of the torches.
The grass in the field had grown to around knee height, and they had to take larger steps than usual to get around.
"Damn, the grass is long," said Rodriguez, tripping over a concealed vine.
"Yes, but not long enough," said Sarah quietly.
"What the hell do you mean?" hissed Wu, staggering slightly.
"I mean, after all this time, the grass should be at least five feet high."
"Meaning?"
"It means that something around here is playing gardener."
"…Comforting."
"So," said Guiterrez from behind them in the clear air of a person desperate to change a subject, "Tim, what are the chances that this geothermal plant still works?"
There was a crackle of static, and Tim's voice jumped into focus in everybody's ears.
"Pretty good actually. The plant was created to last a very long time. The plant had a staff of only five men, so it was very low maintenance."
"What if it isn't working?"
Tim laughed softly over the radio. "Then we've come a long way for nothing."
"Mr. Murphy," said Anderson, pressing the headset into his ear, "what are the chances of using those radio transmission spires to send a message to the outside world?"
There was a crackle of static, and a hiss. "I've been thinking about that, but—"
"But what?" said Sarah.
"If we send a message, then the whole world's going to know about this island."
"Screw that," grated Guiterrez, "people have died."
"He's right," said Wu, "if we can send a message, we should."
There was a pause, and another hiss. "I know," said Tim eventually.
"Okay, how would we do that?"
"Once the power is online, we can send a message via the control room. The radio system is wired through the computer terminals."
"Alright then," said Anderson.
They had reached the generator building, which towered several stories above them. Up close, it was obvious that it had once been painted white, and had been quite a sight. But now the walls were chipped and crumbling, tiny fragments of white paint hanging in tatters. There were no windows, just solid wall.
"Where's the door?"
"Underground," came Tim's voice.
"…Huh?" asked Rodriguez, panting slightly and looking at the ground.
"There should be a stairwell that leads underground at the west corner."
Anderson led them around the side of the building, scanning the floor. The grass made it difficult to see anything, and he was worried that one of them may fall into the stairwell before any of them saw it. And before he could warn any of them, he heard a yell from behind him.
There was a scrabble and the sound of dirt being kicked up. "Oh fuck!" shouted Guiterrez as Anderson whipped around, and a moment later he was gone. There was a crash as he disappeared, and a groan. Anderson and the others rushed over to where he had disappeared from, and found a gaping black hole in the ground.
"Martin?" he called.
There was no reply.
Anderson reached underneath the barrel of his rifle, and click on his light, illuminating the hole. It revealed a narrow passage around three feet wide, leading down twenty feet or more. Everything was obscured by a thick brown dust, which was floating around lazily. Guiterrez lay sprawled fifteen feet down, coughing.
"You ok?" Sarah called.
"Spectacular," Guiterrez wheezed, trying to shift his legs from their position over his head. Anderson walked down into the stairwell, his footsteps echoing in the small space. He grabbed Guiterrez by the hand, and hoisted him onto his feet.
Martin was breathing deeply, and ran his hands over himself.
"You ok?" asked Wu.
"…Yeah, I'm all here," whispered Guiterrez.
Anderson clapped him on the shoulder, and moved past him, further into the stairwell. "Is the door locked?" he asked, pressing the headset into his ear.
"Shouldn't be," said Tim absently.
"Alright," said Anderson, beckoning for the others to follow him into the staircase. Guiterrez followed him, limping slightly. They reached the bottom of the staircase in a few seconds, and Anderson ran his light over a steel door that resembled the one that led to the control room. Anderson reached out and grasped the handle, and turned it. There was a resounding thunk and a hiss of escaping gas, and the door opened inwards.
"A vacuum?" he asked.
"Must be airtight," said Sarah.
Anderson looked around at the others, who nodded. Raising his rifle, he took a deep breath and walked into the inky blackness beyond.
Tim tapped his fingers on the table top idly, staring at the blank computer screen in front of him, listening to the radio static. The gloomy room was illuminated by three of the torches that they had found, casting a trio of beams of light on the walls. The sound of dripping water echoed throughout the facility, emanating from the corridor, through the open door. Every movement he made seemed to be amplified, so he tried his best to stay still.
Malcolm was slumped in his chair, his leg up on the second, apparently asleep. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. He looked a little paler than usual. Tim knew why, but he wasn't ready to share that with anybody. Much more was at stake than this.
There was a howl of wind that swept through the facility from the open wall outside, and blew into the control room with a high pitched whistle. Tim's hair blew up, and he shivered. There was a scratch on the floor outside the door, and Tim shook himself.
Great, he thought. Now he was hearing things. He tapped on the tabletop faster, trying to block everything out.
The scratch came again.
"Damn it," he muttered, and stood up. He stalked across the room, picking up a metal pole as he did so, brandishing it like a club. Slowly, he edged towards the doorframe, and poked his head into the corridor.
He looked left, then right.
Nothing.
Uncomforted, he backed back into the control room, and grabbed the door. Slowly, he swung it shut. It clanged loudly in the silence. Tim breathed deeply, trying to slow his heartbeat.
"Nervous?" said a deep voice.
Tim jumped and span around, to see Malcolm. He was grinning, his eyes still closed.
"Very funny," said Tim, sitting back in his chair at the computer terminal.
"Hey, you're the one getting all jumpy," whispered Malcolm, shifting in his chair. "And do you really think closing that door is going to help if there is something out there?"
"Better than nothing, isn't it?"
"Not so sure about that. You remember what happened last time we were here, right?"
There was a silence, in which Tim was sure he could hear the echo of a high-pitched scream.
"I remember," he said finally.
Malcolm opened his eyes, and stared at Tim. "But our clever friends aren't anywhere near us, right Timothy?" he said quietly.
Tim stared back at him, and his heart skipped a beat. Malcolm had always been the smart one, had seen things coming, had known what other didn't. Did he know about this? "Right," is all he could say, nodding.
Tim was sure he could see something stir behind Malcolm's eyes, a twinkle. Ian smiled, and closed his eyes again, resting his head against the chair.
"So, Tim," he continued, "why did you really stop me from going with the others?"
Tim couldn't look at him, and just stared at the monitor in front of him. "What do you mean?"
"Come on, Tim, don't play dumb-shit," whispered Malcolm with a jeering voice, "what did that animal do to me? That…Dilophosaur."
"Nothing," said Tim quickly, and scolded himself. He could tell that he was far from convincing.
"I see," said Malcolm, sneering. "Well, we'll see soon enough, won't we?"
Tim jumped once again as the radio crackled loudly in the quiet room.
"Tim?" asked Anderson's voice. "Tim? Are you there?"
Tim looked at Malcolm for a second, and sighed. He knew that they weren't through with this.
He pressed his headset closer to his ear, and said "What is it?"
"We're here."
"What?"
"We're here, at the generator."
Anderson shone his light over the massive assortment of tubes and wiring that lined the walls. They stood inside a room that was at least fifty feet square. The ceiling was higher than Anderson's light permitted them to see, stretching away into blackness. A narrow catwalk ran along the floor in front of them, the only area of the room free of tubing.
"You're at the generator?" said Tim over the radio.
"That's right," said Guiterrez, "if by generator you mean crap-load of tubes."
"Ah, good," said Tim, "the power unit is down one level."
"How do we get down there?" asked Sarah.
"Do you see a catwalk?"
"Yes."
"Follow that for a hundred yards, it'll take you into another room, and you'll find a ladder leading down."
"Right, thanks."
They set off down the catwalk, their footsteps echoing on the metal. Everything was damp; droplets of water covered the railing. Their feet threatened to slip on the wet surface, so they were forced to move slowly.
Anderson kept his weapon trained on the darkness in front of them. Guiterrez, Rodriguez, Sarah and Wu turned on their torches with a quadruple resounding click, and the huge room was lit up with their brilliant blue beams.
"That's better," whispered Guiterrez.
They passed into a tunnel like structure, and left the first room behind. The roof was only ten feet high here, and was cracked in many places. Moss grew around the cracks, dripping with water. Twenty meters later the ceiling stretched away again as they entered a second room. This one had a single turbine in the middle, which sparkled with a bright yellowish colour.
"What's this stuff on the turbine?" asked Guiterrez.
"The technology is tough on electronics and mechanical parts, so it had to be hardened. The turbine is covered with a special alloy."
"Which alloy?"
"Gold."
"Gold?" asked Guiterrez, shining his light over the turbine. It glinted brightly under the torch beam, sparkling dully. "Cool," he said.
"Bingo," muttered Anderson, shining his light on the floor. On the right of the catwalk there was a hole in the grate, a silver ladder protruding half a foot upwards.
"I'll go down first, check it out, and then you follow," said Anderson, shouldering his rifle and getting on his knees, climbing into the hole. "Sarah," he said, holding onto the ladder, "if anything happens to me, take the others and get back to the control room. Nobody try to be a hero."
Sarah nodded.
Anderson began to climb down slowly, looking over his shoulder as he did so. "I could use some light here," he called upwards.
Two shafts of bluish light shone down into the cavity, allowing him to see the floor some twelve feet below him. It looked dry compared to the rest of the building, and was free of cracks. There was no movement. He put his hands and feet on the sides of the ladder and slid the rest of the way down the ladder, and jumped onto the floor. He un-shouldered his rifle, and clicked on the light. He was standing in a room far smaller than the one above, no more than half the size of the control room where they had left Tim and Malcolm. It had a wall of buttons and dials similar to those in the control room too, but there were no dinosaurs.
"Its okay, come on down," he called up the ladder.
He pressed the headset closer to his ear. "Tim, we're down. What do we do now?"
There was a hiss of static, and a crackle. Sarah jumped down beside him, looking around.
"Okay," said Tim over the radio, "there should be a small panel of green buttons on your right."
"Yeah, I see them," said Anderson.
"Okay, do exactly what I say. Push the button which says 'Thermals'."
"Okay…" said Anderson, running his hands over the buttons. It was the one on the far right. He pushed it firmly with his thumb. It was stiff, but he pushed harder and it snapped inwards.
There was a juddering from above them, and the sound of metal clanging on metal. A bundle of pipes that ran down alongside the ladder began to shake.
"What's all this?" asked Guiterrez, jumping down beside them.
"The plant has begun to vent the heat energy from the power source," said Tim.
"Okay, now what?"
"There should be another button which says 'Main Capacitor'."
"Got it," said Anderson.
"Push it."
Anderson pushed the button, which squealed metallically. There was a low whine, and a crackle. To their left there was a sharp buzz, and sparks exploded from the wall.
"What's that noise?" called Wu from above.
"Tim, there's sparks everywhere," shouted Anderson into the headset.
"That's good," said Tim.
"Not in my opinion," muttered Guiterrez, hissing as sparks landed on his skin.
"What's next?" asked Anderson.
"On your left there's a panel with switches on it."
"Turbine, power, safety 1, safety 2…" said Sarah, reading off a few of the labels.
"That's them," said Tim, "switch them all on."
There was a series of clicks as Sarah flicked them all upwards.
"And now?"
"At the back of the room there's a large red button which is covered in a protective plastic tablet."
Anderson shone his light into the recesses of the room, and illuminated a blank wall which had a single plastic tablet at shoulder height.
Anderson walked over to it as Wu and Rodriguez dropped down into the room, and lifted the plastic covering, revealing a withered red button the size of his fist.
"Push it," said Tim.
Anderson punched the button, and stepped back. For a moment nothing happened, and then the entire room shook. A low electrical whine began to build steadily, and the dials on the left wall flickered on for a moment. More sparks exploded from the wiring, showering them all liberally. Then there was a loud chugging that reminded Anderson of a steam engine, and the dials flickered again.
The low whine reached a crescendo, and the sparks stopped. Then with a clang a buzzing filled the room, and the dials shone brightly.
Anderson smiled. "I think we did it," he said.
Tim looked around and smiled as the dials on the wall in front of him flickered to life. The disk in the computer whirred. "Showtime," he muttered. In the corner of the monitor in front of him, two green words faded into view; 'System Ready'.
The door gave a loud thunk as the locking mechanism snapped into place.
"Oh goody," whispered Malcolm from his chair, "some good news."
"Okay guys, come on back," said Tim into his headset. "We've got power."