Chapter 45
SAR
With a rumble the engine of the vehicle came to life, and the rev dial jumped upwards before settling down. Guiterrez turned on the air conditioning, as it was warmer outside, despite the cover provided by the fog.
He sat in the passenger seat and fidgeted until he was comfortable on the old leather; it was weird, driving instead of walking. Anderson flicked on the headlights beside him, and the fog in front of them seemed to recede slightly.
This car was built strangely; there were panels and bars over the sides and windows, and the materials looked expensive and experimental. It was almost like moving in a miniature tank; although he doubted it was meant to stand up against anything bigger than a donkey. The bigger dinosaurs would open this thing like a tin of sardines.
Still, it felt safer than the visitor centre. That place was just too old and empty, he felt like he was intruding on a lost memory.
Tim's voice faded from the radio's scratchy clicking, and they moved off down the left side of the road, being careful not to collide with the metallic bar running along its centre. But it was no problem; the road was wide enough to allow traffic in both directions; if anything the bar was like a divider on a dual carriageway.
"Stop," Guiterrez said suddenly.
Anderson brakes harshly, looking around warily. "What is it?" Do you see one of them?"
"No," Guiterrez said slowly, "but what's that?"
To their right, around the side of the visitor centre, backed away into the jungle somewhat, was a large hole large enough for a truck to fit through. They could just discern the road sloping downwards just inside the mouth of the cavern like structure, leading into the island.
Anderson frowned, and spoke into the radio.
"Murphy, are there tunnels here?"
The radio crackled, and then Tim spoke, slightly agitated. "Ah, shit. I forgot; I even told Sarah that's how we were going to reach them once we'd got a vehicle."
"Oh, that's nice," Guiterrez said, "you tell her, the person in need of saving, but not the rescuers."
"Sorry," said Tim over the sound of typing. There was an electronic beep, and then Tim's voice spoke again before Anderson could turn the wheel. "The mapping system says that the tunneling system was sealed at the time that the incident here occurred. They had shut them off for security purposes, just in case."
"Didn't they think that the animals escaping was impossible?"
"Apparently not."
Anderson sighed. "All right, we do it the hard way."
Guiterrez nodded as they accelerated along the road again. It would have been much easier to just drive under the man-eating monsters.
The car cruised along the road at a steady speed, Anderson taking care to keep to the road in their limited sight. Palm trees loomed out of the fog as black shapes, brushing against the hull of the vehicle.
The pond which lay calmly on the side of the road opposing the visitor centre danced slightly in the mid afternoon, dragonflies whizzing this way and that over the lily pads which dotted the surface.
Within moments they had left it behind, and Anderson accelerated down the road towards the bend in the road ahead, forking off to the right. Spinning the wheel, they cruised around the corner smoothly, and the fog began to lessen, wispy mist leaking through the air up into the sky.
They passed a sign, which lay crumbling at the side of the road. It had once been made of thick planks of wood, but now it was covered with grime, the words barely legible.
Jurassic Park Main Road Intersection
Maintenance Road 2-J
Main Road
"Well, Columbus," Guiterrez said, pointing straight ahead of them, "looks like we're heading south."
Anderson accelerated down the main road, and the foliage changed slightly, being replaced by much taller trees with thick leaves and bushy undergrowth. Guiterrez could just about make out the mangled ten foot high fencing which lay behind the trees. It was a screening effect, which must have been put in place by the park's architects to hide the fencing from view, to make it seem like you were entering the real jungle.
And then, with a harsh burst of light they flew from the mist which surrounded them, into clear, unperturbed air. They were both blinded for a moment, and put their hands over their foreheads, trying to shield their eyes. A huge shadow bore down over them, cutting out the sunlight as quickly as it had come, throwing them both into confusion. All Guiterrez could see was green and yellow shapes. Suddenly Anderson gave a yell, and slammed on the brakes.
Guiterrez, who had been lounging in the passenger seat, was completely unprepared, and flew forwards. As his seat belt caught him on his way to the windshield, tethering him to the seat, he caught a glimpse of dark black stone, rising high above them before his view was interrupted by the dashboard before him.
And then everything was black.
Tim wiped his face hastily in the darkened space of the control room, typing at the console, the sound barely audible over the sound of his breathing. His hair was dark, hanging down over his eyes, soaked with perspiration. His eyes stung, but he couldn't pause to wipe them. The hum of the air conditioners was loud, trying to counteract the rising heat outside and the fog slowly cleared away from the area as the sun began to cause it to evaporate. But he didn't pay it or his current discomfort any attention; he was entirely focused on the monitor before him.
"Come on," he whispered, staring at the screen intently, "Come on, where are you?"
His eyes narrowed at the screen, which had been split up into sixteen small images, which showed live feed images of the outside perimeter of the visitor centre, and a few of them in the trees in the vicinity of the safari lodge and main road.
Quickly, he glanced over at another monitor on the other side of the room, and saw Wu and Edgar standing in the genetics lab. Wu was standing towards an old computer, and was gesturing; he seemed to be explaining something to Edgar, who was nodding slowly.
Damn it.
They didn't have enough time for this. They needed to get the material, get Harding and Malcolm and get out, as fast as they could.
He picked up the radio and spoke into the mouthpiece.
"Anderson, Guiterrez, how's it going?"
There was a crackle of static. He waited for several moments, but there was no response. "Guys, how's it going?"
A crackle and a sharp hiss floated through the control room, but there were no voices. Tim ran from the console to the other side of the room, and began typing at another station, trying to access the cameras on the main road. Too late, he remembered that the power in that section of the park hadn't been activated at the geothermal plant.
Error 41-T
Security-Act Failure
ZC-5, Prmrtr Offline
"Ah, shit," he murmured, and dashed back to the first station, kicking a large ladder out of the way, and picked up the radio again.
"Wu; Anderson and Guiterrez aren't responding," he said, his eyes flitting over the screen.
On the monitor over the other side of the room, he saw that Wu and Edgar stood up straight, and moved off towards the other side of the room, out of view of the camera.
There was a crackle of static. "What happened to them?" Wu's voice said.
Tim paused for a moment. "I don't know," he said finally.
"Can't you pull them up on the camera?" Edgar's voice said.
"We didn't pull the main road section of the island online when we were down at the geothermal plant, so no," he said, leaning forwards towards the monitor as something caught his eye.
"We have to find out somehow," Wu's voice said, the sound of clanging metal filtering over the radio in the background. "They're the only way Sarah and Malcolm have of getting back. And if we've lost Anderson and Guiterrez, we haven't just lost all four of them; we've lost our only way of getting out of this fog."
"There is no way," Tim murmured over the radio. "We just have to wait and see if they talk again."
"Well what about Sarah and Ian?"
Tim ran his hand through his hair, and took a deep breath as the water of the pond on the screen in front of him rippled slightly. "Just get the data ready, we'll worry about that when you're done."
"Ah, fuck!" Guiterrez moaned, blood running all over his hand, dripping down to the floor of the Jeep from his knuckles.
"Just hold it," Anderson said, putting the vehicle in reverse. The engine gave a pained whir as they backed up, and a huge structure, sixty feet high, came into view. It was clearly man made, and appeared to be some kind of oversized gate marking the entrance to the park. It would have looked impressive to visitors taking the tour, Guiterrez thought.
Now the structure was in disrepair, but still looked strong. The stonework looked unchanged. The two huge wooden doors which would have once opened were now covered in mold, and lay hanging off their hinges slightly, propped up haphazardly. The jungle had grown up around it, and vines twisted their way around the twin pylons, and creepers covered the surface of the wooden doors.
Anderson picked up the radio, rubbing his chest, wiping away Guiterrez's blood.
"Murphy," he said into it.
Almost immediately Tim's voice filled the compartment, slightly high pitched.
"What the hell is wrong with you? I've been trying to reach you for five minutes!"
"We ran into a problem…"
"Like what?" Tim's voice said, annoyed, the sound of shuffling filtering across the radio.
"Like a fucking gate, sixty feet high," growled Guiterrez, pinching his nose with one hand and trying to clean as much of the blood of his lap as possible, his voice nasally.
There was a brief pause. "I would have hoped that you would have noticed something like that before driving into it," Tim's voice said slowly.
Anderson cursed, and threw the Jeep into gear, and revved the engine. "Never mind."
Guiterrez braced himself against the dashboard as Anderson stamped on the accelerator, and the vehicle's engine roared and they rushed forwards. The speedometer jumped upwards, crawling across the fading numbers printed on the dial. Anderson lined them up with the centre, at the weakest point between the two doors, as the gate flew towards them.
With an almighty crash they impacted the bottom of the door, and with a great splintering sound the wooden doors on both side exploded all around them. Pieces of rotting shrapnel flew in every direction, and Guiterrez had to release his hand from his nose, and gripped the dashboard, yelling at the top of his voice.
He watched as the bonnet crumpled in front of him, crushed by the weight of the wood.
His momentum caused him to shift forwards in his seat, and he felt the blood rush to his cheeks, and a splash of blood flew before his eyes from his nose and splattered on the windshield.
The two doors separated, pushed apart by the force of the impact. The left door gave a metallic squelch, and twisted upwards. With twin sounds akin to gunshots the hinges exploded, and the entire door flew off into the jungle. The right door banged open, and flew all the way around on its remaining hinge, clanging against the outside wall of the stone pillar that it was attached to.
Anderson kept the Jeep going, and the roar of the engine competed against the crunching smashes nearby as the left door went clattering into the canopy of the jungle.
They accelerated away from the wreckage before the other door could fall away and harm them.
"Murphy, we're through the gate. Now, are you sure there's nothing else that we need to be worrying about?"
"I'm sure," said Tim's voice. He sounded annoyed. "Just follow the main road and—"
"We heard you the first time," said Guiterrez, the tangy taste of blood touching his tongue as he spoke.
The Jeep was now cruising along a wide road, which had once been immaculately laid with tarmac, but was now heavily pitted with ruts and potholes. Anderson gripped the wheel firmly, keeping them at a relatively low speed as he navigated them around the deepest of the holes, spinning the wheel in his hands. The suspension squeaked and groaned as they bounced up and down.
Guiterrez kept a look out, searching for anything that might be in their way up ahead, or following them from behind. But he saw nothing; just the fifteen foot high fence which ran parallel to the road on their left side. On the other side he guessed had once been a fairly small paddock; the mountain in the background was fairly close, the area of jungle quite small compared to the overall size of the island.
"Won't be pretty getting Malcolm back over all of these," Anderson said, spinning the wheel.
Guiterrez nodded. "Well we can't go around; this is the only road which runs from north to south on the island. And anyway, it's better on the open road here than going on some jungle track.
Anderson nodded.
Guiterrez blinked slowly as the fence running alongside them changed. It took on a more menacing, tougher demeanor; it was ten feet taller and its concrete base was thicker, and higher. Something big had been kept here.
Guiterrez frowned as he looked ahead.
On the left there was a small intersection, a narrow maintenance road leading off of the main road into the jungle. But here long, streaking tire marks lined the road, and continued, leading off into the distance.
"Odd," Guiterrez said. "It must have happened during the incident."
Anderson shook his head slowly. "No. The marks aren't weathered at all; here, in this open tropical environment. And besides, they weave around the potholes, just like we've been doing. They were made recently."
Guiterrez frowned. "Dodgson," he said quietly.
The jungle sat quietly in the afternoon heat. The insects creaked, and sang as usual, but the air was heavy, rippling from the strength of the sun. There was nothing in sight except for endless greenery in every direction in the small clearing. In the distance a long, mournful cry floated through the jungle, the air vibrating from the sound.
With an explosive bang, a section of the floor three feet across shot upwards. It doubled over on itself quickly, and clanged to the floor, a metallic resonance shaking the ground.
Sarah Harding's head popped up above ground, eyes narrowed. She grunted as she hauled herself upwards, her torso stuck up into the air, and she swiveled around, looking in all directions.
A frog croaked nearby, but other than that everything was still and quiet. She gave a tired exhale of approval, and her head disappeared again, down into the dark hole in the ground.
Sarah grunted as she descended the ladder which ran alongside one of the moss-covered concrete walls of the hatch in the ground, and gripped the rungs tightly, careful not to slip off of the damp metal.
Her feet touched the bottom of the tunnel a few moments later, and she blinked in the darkness, and waited for a few moments for her eyes to adjust a little.
Before her was a moss covered wall, made of dark black volcanic stone. The steady drip, drip of water nearby was a constant reminder of the puddles and small streams which ran down the tunnel, following it downhill, north-east as far as she could tell.
She figured that they had travelled about three miles underground since they had left the Compies in the maintenance shed. But if they went onwards any further they would be heading to the east side of the island; the opposite way that they needed to go. And she hadn't seen any intersections down here. So they had to venture back outside.
A beam of light cut through the air in front of her with a click, and it waved around, until it found her boots. It followed her body up to her head, and through the glare Sarah could just about make out Malcolm, who sat propped up against a wall eight feet away, his injured leg laid out awkwardly in front of him.
"How is it?" he said.
The morphine had begun to run out a while ago, but she couldn't afford to inject him with any more of it; she needed him lucid and mobile. Nevertheless, it caused him significant pain.
"It's clear," she answered, walking over to him and holding out her hand. He grabbed it, and with their combined effort Malcolm was hauled to his feet, and groaned.
"I'm going to miss it down here," he said as they approached the bottom rung of the ladder, leading up into the daylight. "It's lovely and cold, and there aren't so many monsters."
They both arrived at the bottom of the ladder, and as Sarah looked upwards it dawned on her that Malcolm had to ascend the vertical, wet metal rungs with his injured leg, which was by now almost useless. It certainly couldn't take his full weight. She didn't know if he even had the strength to make it all of the way up.
"Ah, I see you have also picked up on our predicament," he said, and grinned weakly.
Sarah looked up at the gap in the ceiling of the tunnel, and sighed deeply.
"Alright, well you go first, you'll have to use your arms to hold on."
"I see," Malcolm said, coughing through a laugh, "and how am I going to go about travelling upwards?"
Sarah looped her pack over her shoulders, and stood behind Ian, and moved him forwards, so that he gripped the railings above his head. "I'll have to push you," she said.
"This is going to end badly," Malcolm said thinly as he hauled himself off the ground, his shoulders shaking. He was now two feet off the ground, and hung there, helpless. Sarah reached down, near to the ground, and grabbed the soles of Malcolm's shoes. With a heave, she pushed upwards, her knees threatening to buckle. Ian began to move upwards. He grunted as he helped her, pulling himself up with his arms. He linked his left arm over the rung he held onto, and then reached for the one above with his right.
With a groan of pain, he rose upwards. Not a lot; but a little. It was a distance of ten feet from the floor to the lip of the hatch ceiling. His head was almost seven feet upwards now. Another four feet and he would be able to reach over onto the ground with his arms and pull himself up.
"For Christ sake!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the cavernous space.
"Push, Ian!"
"This is not my idea of a short trip to save the world!" she shouted back, rising another two feet, gripping the next rung desperately and hauling himself up.
With a crash, and the rustling of leaves, Malcolm's arms launched over the lip of the hatch, out of sight. Ian tried to kick his good leg, but Sarah struggled with him, trying to hold him still. With a heave, she crouched, underneath him, and pushed upwards as hard as she could.
Malcolm's torso disappeared into the bright light above, and he groaned in pain as he twisted slowly, and she let go of his foot. Slowly, Ian moved his injured leg upwards, gingerly turning himself around, and swinging it out of sight.
Sarah gripped the bottom rung, her arms aching, and pattered up the rungs to the surface. She emerged from the hatch, and saw Ian roll to the side, and lay in the detritus which lay on the floor. She leapt up onto the ground, feeling the softer ground under her feet as she sunk on the squishy mud.
"Are you ok?" she said.
Ian simply lay quietly on the ground, his chest heaving. Sarah walked around to his side, and crouched down. She brought out her water bottle, unscrewing the lid quickly. She lifted his head, and put the bottle to his lips. Slowly, he lifted his head, and took a long gulp.
She pulled him up, smiling carefully, "Come on, we have to get going. We're closer now."
She hauled him to his feet, and looked around at the surrounding foliage. Everything remained still.
Sarah left Ian standing for a moment, and approached the hatch door. She lifted it up, and threw it over on its hinges, which squealed loudly before slamming down shut.
She then looped Ian's arm over her shoulder, and they both struggled into the trees, heading north-west.
"When we get out of here," he said quietly, "I'm booking the first flight to the coldest place I can find."
The suspension squeaked as the Jeep bounced around the corner in the jungle, the front wheels splashing up an arc of mud as they passed through a deep puddle lying in the middle of the road.
Guiterrez wiped away the last of the drying blood from his upper lip, and squinted in the glare of the headlights at the jungle ahead. The road was narrow, and grass grew tall everywhere, making progress difficult. But Anderson pushed the engine hard, and they were less than two miles from their destination.
A blockade of ferns and bushes appeared ahead of them suddenly, blocking their path. Light filtered through intermittently; Guiterrez braced himself as Anderson gunned the engine, and they accelerated forwards.
With a roar they burst out into the daylight, clumps of detritus clinging to the bonnet and windshield as they came crashing down in the grassy expanse of the field.
The windshield wipers flicked on, smearing the foliage and flecks of mud over the glass as they careened over the periphery of the field which lay at the edge of the lagoon.
Guiterrez looked out, through Anderson's window at the sparkling water which sat quietly in the afternoon sun. In the heat of the day most of the animals had left the lagoon, however he could still see several Parasaurolophus coming down from the jungle to take a drink. They stopped for a moment, and looked over at the vehicle as they skirted the edge of the field, approaching a small break in the canopy several hundred meters away, marking the entrance to the small maintenance road that Tim had told them to take.
Anderson gripped the wheel tightly as they bounced over the terrain, his eyes wary as the tires tore through the thick grass which coated the ground.
Guiterrez sat up straighter in his seat as he looked out over the lagoon, to the opposite shore. He felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck as he saw the two adult Tyrannosaurus Rex standing at the opposite shore, looking out over the water, right at them.
"Shit," Anderson whispered as he followed Guiterrez's eyes.
The Tyrannosaurs didn't move, or make any attempt to move towards them; they were separated by hundreds of meters of water; anyway, the Hadrosaurs probably provided a more appetizing meal. The larger one dipped its head, and scooped up a swathe of water into its lower jaw, like a bird. It then raised its head skywards, tilting the water down its neck.
The other simply stared at them as they traversed the distance to the maintenance road. Guiterrez kept his eyes on both of the Tyrannosaurs as Anderson span the wheel and they turned away from the lagoon, heading into the jungle. A long, single roar carried over the water from behind them, causing the air to vibrate inside the cab.
It was dark inside the vehicle again; they once again had to rely on their headlights. Guiterrez noticed, to his surprise, that it was in fact beginning to get later on in the day by now; the sun had past its highest point in the sky, and was beginning its descent. Everything that the sunlight touched was now taking on a golden, warm glow.
It made the surrounding jungle look like something out of a children's novel; golden glowing detritus, long vines draping down towards the floor from the mosaic-like canopy far above.
Some wonderland, he thought; like some terribly, monster centered children's tale gone awry.
The rounded a sharp corner and a large group of small greenish looking dinosaurs were thrown into the harsh glare of the lights. They squeaked and hissed as they saw them, before scattering in all directions into the jungle, lowering their heads to make them parallel to the rest of their body. Guiterrez tried to watch them flee, but they melted into the terrain within seconds; simply disappearing into the foliage, like ghosts.
"Creepy," he said, looking out of his window as they continued bounding on through the jungle.
Anderson turned a final corner, the Jeep sliding haphazardly in the mud, and the headlights illuminated the small field that they had left, less than eight hours before. Guiterrez felt his seat shudder, the brakes creaking as they trampled the vegetation down, and Anderson span the wheel around to reveal the derelict maintenance shed.
They pulled up alongside it within seconds, and the engine died in the sudden silence. The jungle sounds resumed, which – for which Guiterrez had been thankful – had been blocked out by the roar of the engine. But now they were back with a vengeance; the creaking and clicking of an entire zoo of insects, amphibians and lizards.
Guiterrez and Anderson leapt from the Jeep into the long grass, slamming the doors shut as they walked towards the thick metallic bars which marked the entrance to the shed.
The interior glowed with strips of golden light as the sunlight streamed in around the bars, but it remained darker than Guiterrez remembered it.
Anderson flicked on the light which was attached to his rifle, and a shaft of bright light filtered into the shed. Guiterrez gripped the bars, and looked in, squinting. There was no movement inside.
"Sarah?" he called, his voice echoing in the large space, "Ian? Are you there?"
He waited for a few moments, but there was no reply. The only answer he received was the distant roar of one of the Tyrannosaurs.
Anderson slipped through the bars in a single fluid moment, and Guiterrez watched from the entrance bars as the shaft of light on his rifle swiveled around in the space, receding into the shed, the only sound the clicking of his shoes on the concrete surface of the floor.
A few seconds later Anderson came back to the entrance, scratching his head.
"They're not here," he said.
"Ah, shit," Guiterrez muttered, turning away from the entrance.
He put his hands over his face, and rubbed his eyes, trying to ease the headache which was brewing in his temples.
He walked over to the Jeep, and climbed in, and grabbed the radio from the dashboard. "Murphy," he said into the mouthpiece."
There was a crackle, and then Tim's voice spoke erratically. "What is it?"
"Ian and Sarah aren't here, they left the shed."
"Tried the tunnels?"
"Where are they?" Guiterrez said, leaning out of the window, looking into the shed, where Anderson was walking around in the shed, confused.
"At the back, there's a door which leads down into them."
Anderson looked up at Guiterrez as he heard this, and Guiterrez watched as the rifle's light swung sharply as Anderson ran to the back of the shed. A moment later there was a sharp clunk, and then he heard, deep, booming footsteps, leading away from him.
Guiterrez sat silently in the Jeep with the radio mouthpiece in his hand, his head out of the window cocked to one side, listening.
Anderson's voice called distantly, echoing strongly from what sounded to Guiterrez like it was from inside a cave of some kind.
Half a minute later Anderson slipped back through the bars of the shed, clicking his rifle light off. "They're not in there either," he said glumly, stomping through the grass back towards the vehicle.
"They're not in there," Guiterrez said into the radio.
There was a pause, and a hiss of static and Anderson threw open the driver's door and jumped in, and started the engine.
"The tunnels extend for miles across the island. That one passes within two to three miles from the control room. They could be heading for us."
"How do we know where to find them?" Guiterrez cursed as Anderson put the Jeep in gear, and they set off in an arc around in the field.
"I'm not sure that there's anything that we can do for them now," Tim said darkly.
"So we just leave them out there?"
"The tunnels are sealed off, they'll be okay right up to the point that they have to get out."
"Right," Guiterrez said, sighing heavily.
"We're heading back now," Anderson said.
"Oh no, you're not," Tim said suddenly. Anderson frowned, and looked at Guiterrez as Tim spoke again. "You need to get back to the geothermal plant as fast as you can, and activate the radio tower."
"Why do we need to do that?" asked Guiterrez as they accelerated back onto the maintenance road, disappearing back into darkness.
"We can't send for help until you do that," Tim said, the sound of typing carrying over to them.
As they rounded a corner, Anderson cursed. "Alright," he said, "How do we get there?"
"I need to stop," Malcolm grated, breathing heavily.
"We can't," grunted Sarah, trying to drag him forwards.
Malcolm simply sank to the ground in front of a very large, old tree which towered above them, groaning, his head resting in the ferns. Lying inside a cleft of one of the large woody roots which stuck up above the ground, he was barely visible unless looking at his body from the opposite side.
Sarah looked at him for a second; his heaving chest, soaked with sweat, shuddered as he breathed deeply, sucking humid air into his lungs. His black shirt clung to his body, soaked through, but he didn't seem to notice.
He wasn't going to last much longer if they kept this up. She had no idea how far it was to the control room, and she didn't even know if they were going in the right direction. But to sit here in the jungle, surrounded by god only knows what, was foolish. If either of them was going to make it, they had to keep moving.
But the truth was that she was lost; there were only two of them, and hell, she was the only one lucid and thinking. It was impossible to keep her bearings in here. The jungle was like a blanket; it smothered her senses. The only link they had, their only reprieve was their radio. She'd call Tim in a minute and try and get some directions.
She looked at Malcolm's defeated form one more time, and then felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her, and she swayed on her feet. She took a deep breath, and leaned against the trunk of the tree. She shrugged her pack from her shoulders, and threw it in a heap three feet away near the bushes. She rubbed her shoulders firmly, trying to ease the aching muscles.
Just a few minutes rest, she thought.
"Don't you get tired now, Mamacita," Malcolm wheezed. "We've got to—"
"Save the world?" she asked, a tired grin on her face.
Malcolm laughed quietly, coughing.
"How's the leg?" she said.
Malcolm lifted his head minutely, looking down at his bandaged shin, grimacing. "Dandy," he said.
Sarah sighed, closing her eyes against the oncoming headache. The humidity and heat of the island really got to you quickly, especially if you exerted yourself. It literally sapped the strength out of you.
"Oh, give me one of those frozen vanilla cappuccino things," Malcolm said, trying to catch his breath.
She felt a pang of desire; she could really go for one of those right now. What she wouldn't give to be sitting in her refrigerator with a tub of ice cream right now. It was supposed to have been simple; get in, get out. But just as Ian always said, it never went the way you wanted it to—
There was a thud, and then a dark shape rolled up to her feet, and lay in front of her. It was a large sturdy stick; it bore signs of wearing, indicating that it had been used as a walking stick.
"Don't move," said a rough voice.
She opened her eyes slowly, and froze.
Her pack lay opened on the ground, the contents spilled in the bushes. Before her, stood a man, covered in mud and detritus. Blood stains ran down the middle of his torso, all over his filthy shirt. His eyes glittered with malevolent, aggressive energy, and he grinned through the day-old stubble on his face.
And in his hand, was their radio.
"Who are you?" she said, standing up straight. She felt her muscles tense under her clothes, and her mind began to race, her headache gone.
"Lewis Dodgson, ma'am," he growled quietly.
She felt anger flood through her, and she bunched her fists against her will as she kept a steady stare. Malcolm lay at the periphery of her vision, unmoving. He didn't seem to react to the appearance of Dodgson.
"What do you want?" she said.
Dodgson gave a bark of laughter. "I don't want anything from you; I've already got what I want."
He waved the radio in his hand, and began backing away.
"Wait," she said, taking a step forwards.
"Ah," he said, grinning as he twisted the power dial on the radio. There was a hiss of static, and then she heard Tim's voice snap into focus.
"—you need to follow the lagoon south, and then you need to get onto maintenance road 22-W."
"And that's where?" Guiterrez's voice rattled.
"It's the only other turnoff south of the one you've just come from."
Dodgson laughed softly, and turned the dial onto another channel, and the voices ceased abruptly. He then began to back away into the bushes.
In a single, fluid movement Sarah swung her hand around to the back of her waistband, gripped the handle of the tranquilizer gun and swung it out, and aimed it at him.
Dodgson froze instantly, and his eyes narrowed. For a moment he didn't move, and simply looked at the tiny gun which lay in her hands, moving on the balls of his feet, as if thinking of what to do. Sarah moved to the side, trying to get a better stance on stable ground. In response Dodgson moved in the opposite direction.
And there they found themselves walking in circles around each other, like in an old country western.
"Give me the radio now, and you can go," she said sternly.
Dodgson smiled, and then slowly moved the radio in his grip until it hovered over a sharp, jagged rock which stuck up out of the ground. "Let me on my way girl, or I break it."
"You need that just as much as we do," she said, her back brushing against the bush behind her. She frowned for a moment, and then she felt the presence of her pack against her foot. They had turned half a full revolution around each other, and now she stood facing the large tree.
"Now listen, I'm going to turn and leave," Dodgson said. "If you shoot me, I will break this." He waggled the radio.
Sarah thrust the gun forwards, her hands shaking. Her mind raced; desperately trying to think of what to do.
If he took the radio, then they were lost. If she shot him to get it, he'd break it before he lost consciousness. Her tired mind went in circles as she pointed the gun at him.
Dodgson simply grinned evilly. "Funny," he said quietly, observing her, "You look like the kind of girl that likes to control things. You like to think you're in charge, and god knows that everybody else thinks just the same. I bet you're one of those field scientists. But you're all talk. Put you under stress, and all you get is—"
Whack!
Dodgson's eyes widened as the sound of splintering wood filled the air, cracking through the jungle like a gunshot, and he swayed on his feet. His eyes seemed to lose focus, and his eyelids drooped, the radio falling from his hand as his arms went limp. A moment later his eyes rolled up into his head, and he crashed sideways into the underbrush, and Malcolm was revealed from behind him.
"Chaos," Malcolm finished, dropping the broken walking stick onto the ground.
"The Tyrannosaurs are gone," Guiterrez said as the Jeep burst from the shrouded maintenance road onto the beach of the lagoon, racing south. On the opposite shore of the gently swaying body of water there was nothing but golden grass glowing in the late afternoon sun.
"Doesn't matter," Anderson said, spinning the wheel in his hands, "It shouldn't take more than quarter of an hour to get to the geothermal plant."
Guiterrez shifted uneasily in his seat as they followed the curvature of the lagoon, passing a pair of Gallimimus which squeaked, raising their heads and leaping into the air in fright.
There was a harsh crackle of static which emanated from the radio, and then Sarah's voice began speaking rapidly.
"Hello, anybody there?"
She sounded tense and breathless.
Immediately Tim's voice answered. "Sarah, where are you?"
"I'm in the jungle with Ian. I think we just ran into Dodgson."
There was a pause, and then Tim continued. "Are you ok?"
"We've fine, Ian knocked him unconscious. But we're lost."
Guiterrez couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the information. How Malcolm had knocked Dodgson out in his state was beyond him.
"You followed the tunnels all the way?" Tim said.
"Yeah, then we got out, and we headed north for about ten minutes. At least I think we did."
"Okay," said Tim, the sound of typing and the rustling of his on the carpet as he moved around the control room. "Alright, head north and you'll come to a small road in the jungle. You follow that west, and it should lead you straight here."
There was a crackle of static, and a garbled transmission, mixed with grunts as Sarah struggled through the jungle. "Okay," she said, "So I—?"
There was a sharp inhale, and then Tim began babbling, speaking rapidly, his words lost in the background crackle of the radio. "I have to go," he said.
The radio went dead.
"Tim?" Sarah voice said.
"He's gone," Guiterrez said, frowning.
"Guiterrez," Sarah said; her voice warmer. "Where are you?"
"Heading south to call for help."
There was a moment of silence, and then Sarah said, "That'll take forever."
"We have a vehicle, from the eastern garage. Once we're done we'll come and pick you up."
"I'd hurry," a voice wheezed. For a moment Guiterrez didn't recognize it, but when it spoke again he realized it was Malcolm.
"Why's that?" Anderson said as they left the lagoon behind, and continued on south on a wide muddy trail, the southern volcanic fields barely visible ahead.
Malcolm didn't seem to react to Anderson's voice. Instead began to sing in broken sentences, breathing heavily. Guiterrez thought he must be delirious, but nevertheless, the words made him uneasy.
"Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, the blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned; the best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity."
"What are you talking about?" Sarah's voice said.
Malcolm answered with a single sentence, breathing heavily.
"Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold."