Guitierrez walked down the hill in the pouring rain, swearing under his breath. He'd half expected Muldoon would react that way, overdramatize everything. Of course in the hearings nearly ten years ago, he'd sort of gathered that impression of the man Completely drunk of course, Marty wondered if there was ever a moment that man was sober. It was sad to see the disengration of the man, and it was probably for the best that the man was going to hide out in his compound until this storm blew over.
The wind whipped in his face, and his brow was drenched in rain. He knew that the village was empty now with the exception of maybe five or six people. Maybe eight at most. He was wondering where they had all gone, the ones that remained at least. In the five or six days he'd been here, he found it was an unnatural quiet walking down the path and seeing and hearing nobody besides himself. Well, there were always the sounds of the jungle,
But even today the jungle seemed quiet, almost as if a great swell had descended. Marty had been in a hurricane before, and this was the same feeling you got in the eye of the storm. He quickened his pace, walking past the bar. Still nobody, he wondered were they had all gone. Maybe he would be able to get the kid away from the scene. He knew why the doctor had been allowed to stay, in case of… inconvenient accidents. Well, shit happened and he knew it but…
He reached the end of the path, right in front of his tent. Whipping aside the front, he saw… nothing. "Shit," he muttered under his breath and looked around. The kid was gone, he wondered vaguely where. "Shit," He swore again under his
breath as he burst out the other end of the tent. The hood of this slick was really impairing his vision, and even though the rain was really coming down in buckets now, he took it off. Immediately, he found he could see better, even if his head and shoulders were immediately drenched.
Somewhere thunder boomed, and he could see a lone figure standing in front of him. Man at the base of the hill smoking a cigarrete in the rain. Cupping his hands so as to shield the flame. Marty approached cautiously, noticing the machine gun cradled over his shoulder. If what Muldoon had said was true… "Hey!" Marty called out, through the rain to catch the man's attention. He could see a bit beyond, where there were fresh footprints on the muddy hill. The one that led up to the barn…
"Hay is for Horses," The man replied, taking his cigarette out, and blowing out the smoke into the deluge. He looked up at him, and in that moment Marty saw something in his eyes that made him step backward. It was an almost feral glance, with viscous intelligence behind it. The man smiled at him nodding his head upward in the direction of the barn. "A little bird told us where the party is," a wry laugh disturbed pouring rain.
"Listen, " Marty began, "you have what you guys came for just let me leave in peace okay-" he heard the gun cocking, and sweat dropped down his brow. It mixed with the rain, and was soon indistinguishable. The man only nodded his head upwards, indicating that Marty should go up. Didn't leave him with much choice did he… He shook his head at the man, and began walking. Behind him he heard the man follow.
As he ascended he saw the rest of them gathered near the barn. The barman was ascending the outside ladder, presumably to act as some sort of lookout, Marty had no idea. He saw Dr. Carter standing against the sidewall, her medical bag at the ready. He nodded to her; she gave him a cold glance. Well, he figured, there's nothing longer then a woman's memory. He wondered if she had any idea what they were about to face here. Maybe she would be looking at him a little differently then.
There was another one of the armed soldiers (mercenaries?) well if Muldoon was right that was a possibility. Only it was a woman this time, hair a dark brown. She scowled at him, and motioned with her gun for him to move to the side. Marty just shrugged, taking the space beside Dr. Carter. He noticed Carter step slightly to the side as he approached, but figured that was probably about right.
He turned his head, and a scowl of his own escaped his lips. The kid was over there, walking in his direction. Directly behind him was a man he'd recognize on sight anywhere. The very man who had funded his research expedition… It didn't take a genius to figure out that Baxter had told them it was in the barn. Damn kid, should've waited for him to come back, instead of going off on his own. He would've done something about it too, except for all these armed people.
Now the man was approaching him, his two armed associates taking up positions on opposite sides from the barn door. Marty watched Ed James stop at the lock to the barn door, almost as if he was contemplating it. But only for a second, before he stepped back. Waiting for a signal. All three of the newcomers had their guns aimed towards the opening, and nobody was moving a muscle. It reminded Marty of some movie he'd watched a long time ago, and dimly he wondered what was going to happen next.
He got his answer soon enough, after Baxter passed him. The kid started to protest some excuse, but Marty wasn't having it, armed men or not. "Next time wait for me asshole," he said, not exactly under his breath. Maybe he shouldn't have left Muldoon's compound after all, if he was going to be trapped like this. He thought that maybe it might be worth it to make a run for the jungle, but how far away from civilization was it?
"Mr. Guitierrez?" Marty turned his head at the sound, only to hear a crack. A gunshot, he thought wildly, feeling his chest out of instinct. No, he turned his head, to see that the lock was on the floor, shattered into two pieces. "Mr. Guitierrez, I believe we need your assistance." It was James calling him, across the downpour. Marty could see it now, that the other man's head was completely free of helmet or hat. The man was grinning at him, it seemed like a horrific leer through the pounding rain.
Marty knew what he needed to do, without the man having to remind him. He grimly walked to the doors of the barn, now with only a plank keeping the doors locked. He grunted as he shifted his weight to accommodate the heavy beam. Stepping back under the weight, he turned sideways and dropped it on the ground.
Then Marty Guitierrez walked back to the doors, grasping the twin handles. He felt the hinges creak, as they hadn't been open in how many years? He couldn't even begin to guess, and frankly he did not want to.
He grunted again, a sigh escaping his lips, as he pulled outward. The doors only resisted slightly before they gave way. He glimpsed the blackness within, and could almost feel it staring back at him. It was a void, for some reason seeming darker then when he'd actually been inside. It occurred to him vaguely that this might be a good time to move. His legs helped him, jumping to the side of the door. Just in time too, for he could see the mercenaries getting closer.
Up where he supposed the loft was, he saw a fragile beam of light. It was sweeping the floor, he knew looking for any sign of motion. But there was nothing, but Marty knew there was only one way to be completely sure. From the look in James's eye, he knew that as well. Marty hung on to the edge of the door, hesitant to peek into the barn, but his curiosity driving him mad. He could only watch as the three of them went into the barn, he knew…searching. There would be a pause of course; they couldn't afford to harm such a rare specimen. They would be switching for tranquillizer rounds right about…
Marty took that chance to dash across the front entrance. It would all be over, maybe in two or three seconds. He paused halfway, waiting for the shots that never came. It was odd though, seeing the searchers illuminated against the lights, trying to look in every nook and cranny. In the corner of his eye, Marty saw Baxter and Carter noticing his jumpy behavior. He held out a hand to reassure them, everything was going to be all right. After all… it would be taken care off in five seconds and he could go back to normal. Keep telling yourself that Marty, he thought.
He wasn't a fool. Three people with machine guns. Practically no witnesses in the entire village and an operation illegal as hell. He knew how this could end, but he didn't want it too. Hopefully they would be happy with what they had and just leave. Money had bought Marty's silence before; it could buy it again for all he knew. He saw them coming out, a bit faster then he'd expected. He frowned, something was wrong. Something was more then a little off here…
"There's nothing here," Ed James said in a scarily calm voice as he stepped out into the rain. "Your boy led me on." He shook his head, and Marty took a careful look at the gun. He was trying to gauge if it held tranquilizer rounds or bullets. Best to act cool, stay calm. He would know, perhaps in a matter of seconds or minutes.
"I swear there was something in here…" Marty's words died on his lips, and he felt his throat dry up. He blinked, trying to comprehend what he was seeing, but his words and his imagination was failing him. He stepped back a pace, not even looking at James. Or rather…
""Hello? Have you gone deaf?" James took a step forward and paused. Marty knew he sensed it too, that something was wrong. Very wrong indeed. From inside the barn the odor of foul carrion wafted into his nostrils, and Marty wondered how long the carcass had remained intact. Long enough for the animal to get hungry when it wasn't fed at its appointed time? Perhaps… And who said how it would react to its cage being opened?
The barman's light was like a beacon, lighting through the darkness of the barn, onto James. Marty was reminded of a prism, how when light shot through one end, it came out different. It was…. he was seeing something very like that here. The darkness behind James was not completely solid, he realized to his mounting horror. No, he'd most definitely seen something move, something out of place. He took another look back at Carter and the kid, motioning for them to get out of here.
By now it had gone completely silent, not even the grunts were making any noise at all. One by one they turned very slowly, James being the last of them all. He gasped audibly as the light swung back up. The darkness seemed to take on an odd shimmer, as the light swayed back and forth. Finally, it stopped altogether, as a low growl came from the barn.
Immediately everyone stepped back a bit, even the kid and Carter. The light beam also stopped right where it was, frozen in place. Marty could hear the mercenaries checking their magazine capacities quickly, preparing to fire. He waited for a long moment… but nothing came. He let out a deep breath, wondering for a second. Would the growl repeat itself, was it just a trick of their imaginations? He found himself tightening his fists, hoping against hope against hope…
The growl came again, and something walked out of the shadows. No one could tell what it was right away, mainly because it was translucent against the gloom. But everyone could see it, tell that it was big. Massive even. The light was shimmering off of its frame, but even from here Marty could make a crude guess as to size. Seven or eight feet…that was just a crude estimate.
"Shoot it!" He could hear the yells, seeming to come from far away now. "Shoot it!" The sound of three guns going off at once almost deafened him, and for a second he couldn't see what was going on through the glare. However he stepped forward again, seeing the rounds that were falling down. One of them rolled over to his feet that were the sheer force the rounds were being ejected. He saw what it was… a dart. The kind you used to tranquilize Alligators, he suspected. But that meant…
That the dosage was probably too small, all it would do was make it angry. As he realized that of course he heard a yell from above him. James was looking at his gun in anger, and frustration, throwing it down before running in his direction. Marty could barely move, before the other three followed suit, though he noticed the woman was merely firing over her shoulder at this point.
The thing was now plainly visible, and with a shudder, Marty realized he recognized it. Not by name but by sight. On a deserted beach with Levine watching it go up in flames… The thing was hideous beyond his imaginings, the two horns seeming to mock his imagination and disbelief. I exist, it seemed to be telling him, I exist and you don't.
He didn't even stop to take off his slicker at this point, just ripped it off. He figured it would drag him down too much. He saw to his left the Kid making a run for the man's house, and the Doctor sort of frozen in fear. Looking behind him, Marty saw the massive dinosaur turn its head towards him. Roaring, a loud unearthly sound that filled his ears with the years of pain and rage and hate. It was gaining on him, and he really had no time at all to really process it.
Nothing about the animal's appearance registered with him at all. It was large and scaly and had horns. That was it. Panic had taken over, adjusting his eyesight so he only saw the important things. That, and it was gaining on him.
He tried to turn for the house as well, and he almost made it. Somewhere in the rush and bustle, things had gotten a little knocked around. Namely that seemingly insignificant wooden beam. His foot betrayed him, sending him stumbling off to the side. He let loose a gasp, flailing his arms desperately trying to keep his balance. But the gambit failed, and fell, just as the Carnotaur ducked its head in a side sweep. It missed, sweeping the air where his torso would've been just a second earlier.
However, his right leg caught a glancing blow, the force being enough to send him toppling over to the side. Marty Guitierrez had a rough landing, falling down on his face. Daze he looked up, seeing the large bulk of the animal going past him. Seemingly oblivious to the shouts of the mercenaries, it was heading for the surrounding forest. He felt his head swimming, finding it hard to focus. With a great effort, he turned himself on to his back.
The mercenaries passed him without stopping, and looking back he saw them disappear into the jungle as well. Looking down he saw his leg, a huge gash right in the side. He tried to move it… almost certainly broken. It made him feel dizzier just doing it…he felt like he just needed to close his eyes, let the pain go away. The fever was breaking down over his head, as he laid his head back down. The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was Dr. Carter running towards him, Medical bag in hand.