The door slammed behind Richard Levine in the empty apartment. He sighed as he set his pack down carelessly on the couch, before sitting down. There was a peculiar sense of exhaustion about him, as if he had spent weeks without rest. His hair was disheveled and unkempt, and his stubble was dangerously close to forming a beard.
He sat down at the table, brushing aside the note from his housekeeper with a detached, distracted demeanor. Slowly he began to eat his soup, and as he did so he dwelled on the past week. The appetite really wasn't there anymore, not like in the old days. Back when he actually felt like doing something, and not going through the motions of life. When he'd had the strength and reserves to really enjoy his work.
The staff meetings were draining all the life from him, and he could feel it in his head. Those people had no sense of humor, none at all. It didn't help either that he was the youngest person in the boardroom either, not one bit. His Confucian quotes seemed to fall on deaf ears, and you could almost hear them tapping their fingers in impatience. Levine wasn't cut out for this shit, he never had been.
Supposedly there were things expected of him, which he'd only just begun to find out. Had to do with him getting older, out of that 'phase', or so the board had called his career as a world famous Paleontologist. Apparently being the heir to a hugely successful toy company was more important then that. Maybe that would interest some people, but not Richard Levine.
He looked up, staring at the far end of the room. Through the open door at the other end he could see his desk, with the INGEN computer still nestled on it. Still hadn't thought to throw the damn thing away, even though it had long past its usefulness. It was obsolete anyways, since a modern monitor was hooked up to the hard drive, and could handle the more complex tasks in a more efficient fashion.
He wondered how the network was doing; he hadn't had that much chance to check up on it these days, considering he had been stuck in meetings. Malcom had been number one on his contacts, to call him when there was anything interesting coming up. That number had not rung in three or for months. It seemed to him that it was fading out of his memory, even the image of the other man.
He was losing his will to eat anymore-just thinking about all this shit, and with a frustrated sigh, he stood up. Taking his half empty dish, he dumped it in the sink and grabbed his pack off of his couch. Looking at his watch he judged it was about eight or nine hours until the next meeting. Some shit about the marketing campaign for the new line of Becky dolls. Levine shook his head, thinking of what he'd like to say to them…
He was just about to head off to bed when he stopped. There was just something that made him stop, after all this was a wider gap between meetings then usual. He might as well log in, check his e-mail. Hell, maybe take a look at the network. He hadn't heard anything in the news, so he was certain that the connection should still be there. At least he hoped so.
He slung the pack over the chair and turned the computer on. It didn't take all that long to warm up, but while he waited he went to the kitchen and got himself some coffee. Probably a bad idea if he was planning to take a nap later, but for now he felt like he would fall asleep without it. That was a really bad habit to get into, but he couldn't think of a better way to keep himself awake at the moment. He was just too damned tired to care about anything, or almost anything at the very least.
Levine sighed as he took a sip of his coffee while scrolling down his emails. The usual reminders from the board of course, all unread. One or two from Malcom, dated a week or so ago. However the subject line was about academia, noting vague theories about how chaos would affect the Island. Way too deep for him, though personally he always thought the answer would turn out to be something simpler.
There was that email he'd sent three weeks ago to Grant. Even persuading Malcom to contact the guy hadn't gotten him to open up. Levine couldn't blame him of course; the man probably wanted nothing to do with another Island, and all the responsibility that entailed. Well that was it for his messages, so Levine decided it was time to check the network.
He opened up another window, waiting for it to load. The connection seemed to take a bit longer then usual, though he couldn't remember since it had been at least a month since last time. He had to wait for the live feed to load on his computer, and for the signal to process. It was worth it though, the perfect way to feel better about himself after a shitty day like today.
Levine loosened his tie and took off his jacket coat, draping it over the chair. Rolling up his sleeves, he took another sip of his coffee. He watched the feed slowly come onto live mode, and a prompt came on screen. He smiled, typing in the password the kid had wrote down so long ago. Sitting back, the screen then prompted him for which camera he'd like to access.
There were ten or twelve different cameras in all, in past times Levine had spent hours just staring at them and making observations. However, he was too busy now, and life was intruding in his work. It was a damn shame, but that was the way it had turned out for him. He was only interested in one camera today, clicking on the one that indicated the river valley. He took a quick glance at the sticky note attached to the side of the monitor. 'River Valley observe… ' He shook his head, a tired sigh escaping his lips.
The monitor came into focus now, and he could see the camera's point of view. He had long speculated where exactly the tree the camera was located was on, but he suspected it might be somewhere he had passed. The view was similar to the one from the high hide, where he'd looked over the long grass. Except now it was five or six years later.
He sat up, as the feed began again. It was quite a picturesque scene indeed, the river flowing lazily between the valley and the long grass. Like a scene from a Lost World…unspoiled by humans. He allowed himself a wry smile knowing the irony in that though. Against the riverbank, there lay a large slumped carcass, the bones of its mammoth ribs bleaching in the sun. Levine frowned again, and typed in the command for the camera to narrow its focus.
He could see clearly that the body had not been disturbed; in fact there were no broken bones that he could see. The animal had died by the riverbank, its head sticking out of the grass, familiar crested skull shining in the sun. Parasaurolophus Walkeri, Levine thought to himself and it was odd how detached he seemed. A vanished giant, seemingly alone in the field and defying time.
He examined the bank of the river, knowing the soft mud would betray any prints. Frowning again he grabbed his pad and a pen. He scribbled down 'Three months' and stuck it to the side of the monitor. That was odd…bad news indeed. But he should have expected it really. Why had he expected any different? This result was no different then the past three months.
Hell, he had watched the Parasaur die on live feed, expecting predators to move in any second. A day, then a week, finally three whole months. He leaned back in his chair as he contemplated what this meant. No predation on the carcass, not even scavengers. No scavengers meant no corpses taken by predators… no predators meant there was a lack of prey… He hsook his head finally, unwilling to believe until he had seen.
He scrolled through the other cameras, wanting to see something that wasn't there. His eyes did not betray him though, as he saw no sign of other animals, none at all. He closed his eyes shaking his head. The island was free of sign, except for the corpse at the river. What did it mean? If there was anything that would take his mind off of the board meetings this was it.
He was about to get up, shaking his head in silence. Was that it? Levine wondered idly. It had been a folly, a glorious one but one destined to failure. The Island was dead. Isla Sorna was dead, and there were no damn dinosaurs on it now. Nothing lived and breathed from sixty-five million years. He thought to himself that he would continue logging onto the network, if only to confirm this.
Now it was time for a nap, to get ready for the board meeting tomorrow. Levine got up from the chair and was about to log out when the phone rang. With an exasperated sigh, he reached over the chair to see who was calling. It was a text message actually; maybe it was from the board… He paused as he saw the sender, and the subject line. It was enough to make him sit straight down, and right up in that chair.
Marty Guitierrez hadn't heard from that asshole in years. Mainly he'd been trying to avoid talking to him. Especially after he heard the whole story of his involvement once they'd gotten back safely from Isla Sorna. To sit there with a straight face and claim it was just an Iguana… He shook his head at the audacity of the man. The sheer baldf-aced audacity of it all. Marty sure had guts lying to his face like that with no pause whatsoever.
The message came with an attachment so he decided to open that first, maybe read whatever Marty wanted him to know later. He took another sip of his coffee while the picture loaded. He almost dropped the cup when it did. He felt a lump in his throat when he saw the date and timestamp on the photo. What was this… he couldn't even begin to process it.
A footprint, a goddamn footprint in shitty light. Like it was taken in a building or something. But the obvious characteristics where there. Even in the bad lighting, he could tell what had made it. Not the exact species of course, but it was obviously a large therapod, perhaps a medium size carnivore. Maybe seven or eight feet tall judging from the size of the print. He shook his head as he enlarged the picture on his phone just to be sure. Yes, there was no mistaking what he was seeing.
Attachment read "Levine…don't know if I can trust you with this but… What is this?" That was it. No description of location or anything. Levine felt a rising sort of dull anger building up in him, biting his lip and shaking his head futility. After all this time, the denial and the lying the man just came forward like this.
He didn't know quite what it meant though. Had Marty discovered Isla Sorna? He certainly hadn't detected any signs of human presence on the network cameras but he should have. Regardless he had a way to find out, and in a few short minutes Levine would know exactly where this came from.
Being the heir to a multimillion-dollar company sometimes held its perks. For example, he was able to finance the latest technology for his office, coupled with the most cutting edge software. Placing the phone on the desk, he grabbed a cable from the jumbled mess under the desk. He then used it to connect the phone to the hard drive.
Minimizing the network window, Levine opened up another application. He selected the option to transfer call data, and waited a few seconds. Every phone call had to be directed from somewhere, and even when using a Sat phone, those waves could usually be directed back to their point of origin. Thus, he was not surprised when the program gave him his answer almost instantaneously. But the answer was not what he had expected at all. Not in Sixty-five million years.
The signal was coming from the mainland, in some shit-piss little village in Costa Rica. About five or ten miles inland he wasn't sure. Anyway he clicked again and downloaded the co-ordinates to the village to his phone. He was almost about to exit, when another window popped up. Levine scratched at his stubble as he read it. Apparently Levine hadn't been the only recipient of the call, even though his name had been the only one on the sender.
It was called 'signal hijacking' or whatever the hackers said nowadays. Where someone could fix a phone to send the message to another unlisted number as well, regardless of the sender's intent. He frowned, his brow furrowing against his unkempt hair.
"Damn it!" he said, even though no one could hear him in the empty apartment. He knew what this meant, that this picture was no longer confidential. He bit on his lip again, shaking his head. Before he knew it he was already standing up, feeling alert in an odd way that he hadn't been just a half hour earlier. He looked down at himself, still clad in business attire.
That message had been sent six hours ago. He thought to himself. Six hours. He ran his hands through his head, knowing he would almost certainly miss the board meeting. Ah to hell with them, this was more important. Besides, this was what he'd trained for his whole life. It was calling him again, Costa Rica. Once again he would face the beasts of nightmare.
Once again. He grabbed his phone as he headed for his closet. No use going to Costa Rica in these nice clothes. The number of his travel agent was on speed-dial. "Yes, hello." He paused. "When's your next flight out to Costa Rica?"
It was buried in his closet, but he found it again, his binoculars. Clutching them to his chest, he wondered what he was getting himself into. Maybe he should contact Malcom… no. He had a dread certainty that the other someone was already well on their way. Levine knew what he had to do. It was dreadfully simple, yet the most frightening prospect ever.
Richard Levine would have to go alone.