Chapter 28
Shed
Sarah trudged alongside Edgar, eyeing him curiously. His clothes were smothered in mud, and his face was haggard. He looked completely exhausted, even more so than the rest of the InGen expedition.
She could see that he was more or less an average Californian guy. He had obviously never been in a tropical environment like this, where you had to maintain a conscious effort to keep drinking. He looked badly dehydrated already, his lips chapped and his skin dry.
"When was the last time you drank?" she asked him.
He looked at her morosely for a moment, as if distantly surprised that he was talking to her. Then he said, "Now that you mention it, I can't remember the last time I had a drink."
"You have a headache?"
"A little bit, why?"
She nodded, and reached herself, unzipping her pack as she kept walking. "At the equator you have to drink a lot. And seeing as we're running for our lives and plunging through the jungle so much, you need more than usual."
She handed him her water bottle, and he took the lid off hurriedly, and took several long draughts, gulping rapidly.
He looked okay; she suspected that Dodgson had simply hired him as a henchman. Edgar looked like the kind of loyal bodyguard type that every important businessman needed to keep them out of trouble.
He handed the water bottle back to her, smiling sheepishly as she noticed that he had emptied it around half of the bottle.
She was glad to be able to walk without Ian's weight on her shoulder for a while, as Anderson and Guiterrez were taking supporting him.
Well, she thought. More like dragging him. Ian's condition hadn't improved any since he had lost consciousness after their escape from the Rex, except for a few more mumbled sentences.
They were skirting the tree line of the lagoon, heading towards the shed that Tim had told them about. The sky was getting darker now, turning a shade of deep blue. The rippling surface of the lagoon glittered dully in the dying light. She could still hear the distant calls of the Stegosaur herd as it grazed lazily at the periphery of the beach on the opposite shore.
"It's getting dark quickly," Edgar said beside her in a tone of surprise.
"It always does when you're near the equator," said Anderson, "it almost seems as if God turns out the lights. We have to move quickly. I don't want to be caught out here in the dark. Not with Malcolm like this."
They turned left, and entered the jungle. Listening carefully for signs of the Tyrannosaurs, they descended into darkness, and the light was cut down so much that Harding had trouble seeing more than a foot in front of her. Everything was wet, dripping with moisture as the heat of the day began to recede, and the evaporated water began to form condensation on the big, glossy leaves. Guiterrez and Anderson tripped frequently on the gnarled routes which had turned slippery, and Malcolm kept getting snagged on thorny brambles.
She sighed, and turned to Edgar, who was walking stiffly, as if not sure whether he should stick with them or not. He looked as if he was deciding whether to trust them.
"How did Dodgson know that there were dinosaurs still on this island?" she said, as they stepped over a tangle of vines.
They passed through a shaft of light that was shining dully through the canopy, and Sarah squinted, trying to maintain her night vision.
"He had the InGen place bugged," Edgar answered.
"You seem pretty open about that," said Anderson. She could tell by his voice that he still didn't trust Edgar.
But Edgar had an expression of anger on his face. "The bastard left me to die, why should care about him now?"
Sarah nodded. It sounded fair enough. But she still didn't—
A rustle.
A bush was shaking up ahead. Even in the gloom, he could still see the silvery glint of the leaves as they swayed. The movement was subtle, but she could tell that it wasn't natural. Edgar froze; he had noticed it too.
Sarah reached and drew the handgun from her waistband, and trained it on the bush. Edgar made a tiny movement towards her, as if standing closer to her would protect him. There was a click, and with a glance behind her he saw that Anderson and Guiterrez had paused too. Slowly, ever so slowly they eased Malcolm onto the ground, and rested his back up against a nearby tree trunk.
Anderson un-shouldered his rifle smoothly, and Guiterrez whipped the small tranquilizer gun from the holster at his side, and they both trained their weapons on the same spot as Sarah.
She watched as the bush became still momentarily, and then shook once more. The movement was far too small to be being caused by a Tyrannosaur, but there were other predators; perhaps it was a Dilophosaur.
Or, she thought with a shudder, something worse.
A silence rang in her ears harshly, and she tried to ignore the droplet of sweat that slowly ran down her back. It was a cold sweat; she was trying hard not to shiver.
There was a sharp chirp, and then the bush shook violently.
Guiterrez lowered his gun, and with a glance of incredulity Sarah saw that he was smirking.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
As if in answer to her question, the bush gave an erratic shake, and a tiny dinosaur hopped into view. Around two feet long, it walked awkwardly on the ground, and its bony face narrowed into a beaky structure at its snout.
Microceratops, she thought.
She lowered the gun, and put it back into her waistband. Anderson and Guiterrez stowed their weapons, and stooped to pick Malcolm up again, who looked like he was in a semi-conscious doze.
Turning back to the Microceratops, she watched as it playfully stared at them, bouncing on the balls of its feet. It cocked its head, and chirped.
"Those things are a menace," murmured Anderson.
Sarah agreed. They were cute, but they couldn't have these things following them all over the place. They attracted too much attention.
She looked at Edgar, and saw that he was staring at the Microceratops with an expression of surprise and hesitation. She saw that he was mouthing something that looked very much like 'What the fuck?'
After a moment, the Micro gave a playful chirp, and bounded sideways, and leaped onto the trunk of the nearest tree. With apparent ease, it shot up the tree, into the thickly leaved branches.
"What is it?" Edgar asked.
"Oh, just a friend of mine," Guiterrez said, grunting as he hefted Malcolm higher on his shoulder and walked past Sarah, further into the jungle.
Edgar gave Guiterrez a look as if he had just announced his will to become a woman, and then shook his head.
They continued through the jungle for several more minutes uneventfully, followed incessantly by the chattering Microceratops. They could hear more Micro's all around them, like a whole group, following them.
"What do you think they want? Why are they following us around like this? Don't they have something better to do?" said Anderson after a while.
"Maybe they think we look weird," said Guiterrez, "I mean, they're probably second generation dinosaurs, so they've most likely never seen humans before."
Sarah quickened her pace; she wanted to get out of this jungle. It was almost pitch black beneath the canopy now, and the sounds around them took on an eerie tone. It was like being in an alien world, beneath the impenetrable barrier of leaves high above them.
Man had no place here. This was an environment that even the best preparation often fell prey to. And seeing as they carried barely enough supplies to keep them going for more than a few days, their situation was rather dire indeed.
She remembered the stories she had heard about the first expeditions to the Congo in Africa during her study of hyenas. She remembered how despite the expeditions had carried everything they would need to survive, they often lost many members of their party. Some of them started at the Atlantic, and trekked upstream, along the Congo River, and were never seen again. Men fell to disease, dehydration, and starvation. The jungle's ever present greenery was deceiving, as it often yielded very little edible matter. When cleared the soil was often found to be very poor. The jungle was an incredibly efficient system built from very little resources, and didn't have much to spare in the form of fruits. The percentage of those who died from predation was far smaller than you would expect. Most died from everything else far before a predator got anywhere near them.
White men maintained rumors of the mysterious jungle tribes than inhabited the dark forests for hundreds of years before they were ever explored by scientific expeditions. Stories of elusive, tiny men who could disappear at will, and killed mighty Elephants for sport.
Of course it was true, that there had been men living in the jungles of the world for thousands of years, who had evolved their own unique ways of surviving in harmony with nature. But white men had grown accustomed to a world in which the natural world was fleeting, almost non-existent. Many lives their entire lives without stepping foot inside the real world, in an environment of steel and glass. So they built zoos, and rabidly vacated the cities in droves for 'real wilderness experiences'. But all of this was far from the truth. The animals in the zoos would never live normal lives, just as if a prisoner in a jail would never live a normal life. Although they had everything they needed, although they could walk, talk, and were technically no different from other people, they would never lead a normal life.
But this was ignored by the world at large. They simply didn't want to come to the realization that they had augmented their own world so much that it was extremely difficult, if not impossible to find a place which was completely free from human interference.
And so it was a shock to the first expeditions who entered the gloom under the towering wooden cities, to enter a habitat in which they had no control, they were utterly at nature's mercy. And also it was a shock to realize that the men who had grown to be at one with nature could utilize its inherent advantages, they could literally melt away into the flora, becoming almost invisible to the naked eye.
They same was true here. They could pass a structure within just only a few meters and never see it. Or a predator. A whole pack of animals could follow them for hours, setting an ambush, ready to strike, and they'd never have the slightest inkling until it was too late.
But everything she had ever heard about the jungle was almost irrelevant here, on this island. As hard as it was to survive in a habitat like this elsewhere in the world; Central America, the Congo, the Amazon, Borneo, Sumatra. All of them were harmless when compared to what haunted these dense forests. The largest predators found in most of the jungles of the world were no larger than a leopard, relatively tame in comparison.
"Is the jungle thicker here, or is it just me?" asked Edgar as his shirt was caught in a tangle of thorns and vines, tearing at his flesh.
Sarah had noticed that too. The trees seemed to be spaced a little wider than usual, and there was far more plant life inhabiting the floor.
"Yeah, it's different," said Guiterrez. "It's secondary jungle."
"And what does that mean?" asked Edgar, casting aside the broad leaves of a large fern.
"Primary forest is what most of the island is covered in. The walking trees, the Ceiba, the palms. All of them are big tall trees with large leaves and wide canopies. They block out the sunlight almost completely, and make it almost impossible for any new trees to grow, or any other types of plants, like ferns or shrubs. For that kind of stuff to grow you usually have to wait for one of the trees to die, and collapse, and create a hole for the sunlight to punch through."
"Well," said Edgar, "I'm assuming that all of the trees didn't die at once to let all this grow?"
"No, I think all of this was cleared when InGen inhabited the island. Secondary jungle like this usually grows when farmers clear the forest, and then abandon it, and allow the jungle to retake the land."
"What do you think was here?"
"I'm not sure. But Tim said that the maintenance shed we're heading to is on the outskirts of a field. Perhaps the jungle has overtaken it in the time since the island was evacuated."
Anderson paused, and Malcolm groaned as his body was stretched as Gutierrez continued to walk for a moment, oblivious. "Wait," said Anderson, "if the jungle has overtaken the field, how do we know where the shed is? We could walk around and not find it for hours in the dark."
"I doubt that," said Sarah.
They all turned to her. "How's that?" asked Guiterrez.
"Because," she said, as she stared at the faint orange glow than emanated from through the gaps in the foliage to their right, "its right there."
The maintenance shed was a featureless concrete hut, rising twelve feet out of the muddy ground that extended for two hundred meters around its periphery. The whole building looked large enough to pass as some form of crude bungalow. There was more than enough room for the five of them to stay the night. Through a small window built into the side a faint light seeped through the etched glass. The door to the structure was ten feet wide, and looked as if it was built to allow access for vehicles. It was constructed of heavy steel bars almost a foot wide. A large rusty padlock hung loosely from a long metal chain looped around the bars. The bars had a split where they met in the middle, and looked as if they slid sideways, away from each other, as though they were a gate. They spaces between them looked like they were just big enough for them to squeeze through.
"Looks good to me," said Anderson, starting forward with Guiterrez and Malcolm.
"Hell," said Guiterrez, "after a day on this island, that thing looks like a five star hotel."
They both chuckled together as they walked forward into the darkness, towards the entrance.
Sarah walked along slowly behind them with Edgar, scrutinizing the building. Even after all this time it looked like it was still in pretty good shape. The jungle had started to retake its lost ground; creepers and vines were beginning to snake their way up the crumbling walls. But overall there was a good distance between the walls and the tree line.
They reached the gate of the building, the thick gate glinting dully in the last shreds of daylight. Sarah noticed that it was surprisingly heavy, and looked like it was built to withstand a great deal of damage. Tim had said that this was an herbivorous maintenance shed and food dispenser, but what species? She knew very well that at Jurassic Park not even all of the vegetarians were necessarily friendly.
Anderson took his rifle down from his shoulder, and passed it to Guiterrez, who was supporting Malcolm by himself. Anderson gripped one of the bars, and deftly lowered his body so that it was horizontal, and swung his body underneath, stepping into the lit space beyond. His hands appeared through the bars for his weapon, and Guiterrez handed it to him. His hands disappeared again, and there were a few moments of silence filled only by his echoing footsteps as he moved into the building, checking the interior for signs of life.
A few moments later his silhouette reappeared, and gestured for them all to follow him through.
Edgar moved forward, and scrambled through quickly. He and Anderson stood and helped as Gutierrez eased Malcolm onto his side and gently fed him through the bars, handling him like a valuable package. Then Gutierrez slipped through a little less gracefully, almost tripping as his foot got stuck.
Sarah walked forward, and took one last glance around. The sky above was now almost black, with the faintest hint of orange and pink on the horizon. The moon was already rising into the sky, and the first of the stars were starting to twinkle.
The jungle was now entirely dark, the leaves swaying at the tree line seemed strangely ominous, their silvery glint concealing god only knows what.
And then on the wind she heard a sigh as she bent down to slip through the bars. She froze in her crouched position, hanging precariously in space. Listening hard, and trying to zone out the footsteps and whisperings of the others inside the building, she stayed absolutely still, staring out at the night. Being careful not to move her head, she looked in every direction, swiveling her eyes in their sockets, searching for the source of the sound. It came again, ever so slightly, carried on the night breeze.
She shivered.
In the moonlight, a shadow was suddenly cast over the field, throwing a black smudge over the silvery glint of the grass that coated the ground. And then it was gone, as quickly as it had come.
She frowned, and stared for another thirty seconds, unmoving. Her muscles began to ache, and her neck hurt from holding the position for so long.
"Harding."
She snapped her head sideways, and saw Anderson staring through the bars of the gate at her, looking at her curiously.
"What's wrong?" he whispered.
She hesitated for a moment.
Was she hearing things? Seeing things? Surely by now she must be getting a little paranoid. And she hadn't slept for over a day.
She almost laughed to herself in the gloom. A day; it seemed like a week.
But she was sure that she had seen it. Whether or not she had seen or heard anything, she decided that it was better to be on Anderson's side of the bars than not.
Taking another fleeting glance around, she slipped through the bars, and walked through into the shed.
The floor felt solid underneath her feet; a welcome change from the mud and tangled vegetation that she had dealt with all day.
Strip lights lined the ceiling, flickering every few seconds, illuminating the building.
The whole thing was a single large room, roughly thirty feet wide and fifty feet long. Most of the floor was clear, showing cracked concrete laced with traces of the first vines and creepers breaking through.
But in places there were stacks of supplies and building materials scattered around in piles. Long metal poles, large wooden crates, coils of wire, some wire mesh netting, spare chain link fencing, ceramic insulators, and spare tires. Running along one wall was what once must have been a conveyer belt of some sort. Sarah guessed it was an automated system for feeding the dinosaurs that had lived around here.
Anderson and Guiterrez carried Malcolm to the side, next to one of the wooden crates, and lowered him down onto the floor gently.
"We're lucky," said Anderson, staring out through the gate, "We got here just in time".
Sarah could see what he meant; now that they were in the comfortably lit shed, outside it looked inky black. She could see anything at all beyond the gate.
"Home sweet home," said Guiterrez, taking off his pack and dropping to the ground. Using his bag as a pillow, he stretched out on the ground, and sighed.
"I could sleep for a week," he said weakly, his eyes already drooping.
"Well, you haven't got that long," said Anderson, walking towards the gate, and sitting down, his back against the wall, staring out at the night. "We'll have to keep a sentry on guard throughout the night, take it in turns. I'll go first."
"I'll go second," said Edgar, nodding.
Anderson's face gave a twitch at this. "I'd prefer if Martin would take the second watch," he said firmly.
"Oh, thanks for your vote of confidence, John, but I'm really tired."
"Martin."
"Alright, alright. Wake me up in a couple of hours then." And with that, Guiterrez closed his eyes, and was snoring within a few moments.
Sarah groaned, and walked over to where Malcolm lay, breathing shallowly. She could see that even the short journey from the lagoon to the maintenance shed had caused his condition to deteriorate even more. His skin was now a definitive grey colour, and a film of sweat coated his skin.
She leaned in close towards him, and his eyelids fluttered. "Sarah," he whispered through dry lips. His voice was course and harsh. He must be thirsty. She reached into her pack, and to keep him awake she decided to keep him talking.
"Ian," she said, smiling. "How are you?"
Malcolm took a deep breath, marshalling his strength before speaking. "Peachy, thanks. Where are we?"
"We're in a maintenance shed. We're going to stay here for the night. Here, drink this."
She tilted his head forward, and tipped the water bottle towards his lips, and trickled the liquid down his throat. He swallowed slowly, and deliberately, sighing.
"Everyone's here?" he asked as she tilted his head back down.
"You, I, Anderson, Martin and that guy Edgar."
Malcolm showed no sign of surprise at the mention of Dodgson's accomplice. Whether he was simply too weak to recognize this or whether he knew something she didn't was unclear. Both were possible.
"Where are the others?"
She paused for a moment, and sighed.
"We don't know exactly."
Malcolm's gaze glazed for a moment before sharpening again. He nodded slowly, and gasped as he moved his injured leg slightly.
"Okay…" he whispered, and slowly his head tilted sideways and his eyelids slowly slipped down, his eyeballs rolling back into his head.
"Ian," she said, taking his head in her hands, "Ian, can you hear me?"
"Always new mistakes," he whispered to her, and then he resumed his shallow breathing. He had gone back to sleep.
She stared at his sleeping form for a few moments, and the whole situation seemed to crash down on her like a ton of bricks. Once again they were stuck on an island crawling with animals that would like nothing more than to tear them to pieces. They were lost, nobody knew where they were, they had a few puny guns and a single soldier to help them out. And now Ian was hurt, badly. For the first time in living memory, Sarah wanted to cry.
After a few minutes she rubbed her forehead, and moved to Malcolm's leg. She gently lifted the cuff of his trouser, and stared at his bandaged leg. It looked clean to her; his wound had stopped bleeding. She lowered the cuff again, and suddenly realized how tired she was.
Her limbs felt heavy, and her eyes ached. She wanted to sleep so badly. Even the hard concrete ground seemed suddenly inviting.
She unzipped her pack, and took out the shirt and jeans that she had worn the day before. Carefully, she lifted Malcolm's head, and put the jeans underneath it. It wasn't much of a pillow, but it was something.
She took the shirt for herself, and lay down next to him, pressing her back against him. She glanced over at the others.
In the dim orange light she saw Anderson perched in his sitting position, who waved and smiled reassuringly. She tried to smile back, but found that her face wouldn't move anymore.
Guiterrez was snoring loudly, his chest rising and falling with each breath.
Edgar had positioned himself in one of the corners of the room, and had stretched out on the ground, and was staring fixatedly at the ceiling. He didn't look like he was going to go to sleep anytime soon.
As she started to drift, she closed her eyes. In the darkness, she heard the sounds of the jungle. They seemed amplified now at night. Was it because she wasn't moving around anymore? She doubted it; they were definitely getting louder.
And as she lost consciousness a light breeze tickled its way through the shed, carrying a soft artificial sigh with it.