Draped in cloth, Lily lay motionless the entire flight back the mainland. Billy had been elected unbeknownst to himself when he signed the waiver for the trip to be the escort for any and all living specimens. He was to accompany Lily to the InGen headquarters and then throughout her testing. He would be housed within close proximity to the specimen so that he could be available for questioning throughout her possible rehabilitation. People had her hooked up to an IV and were still drawing blood to be tested.
One of the nurses on the flight mentioned that she possibly suffered from food poisoning-severe food poisoning. When I mentioned seeing her covered in blood that was not her own, the nurse gathered that she most likely had a high protein, mostly raw meat diet.
"Is that even possible for a human?" James asked from behind Billy, perched awkwardly in a luxury 1st class seat. Even though he was fit, his long muscular legs still didn't fit right into the seat.
The nurse nodded, attaching stickers to the woman's bare chest, neck, on her temple and her upper back for her vitals. "Humans can adapt to almost anything if given a long enough span of which to get used to it. She probably started off on the island eating whatever she could find at the compounds, but the compounds weren't exactly stocked properly. There were more munitions in case of an escape than there was food. I imagine she would've begun to hunt early on." The woman unhooked an empty bag of saline, replacing it with another one. "Her stomach probably went into shock from the apple. And we found pieces of thin white plastic… did she have any candy?"
Billy lowered his head and blush, obviously ashamed that he'd played some part in getting their 'specimen,' a harmless woman sick. James kicked the back of Billy's seat, "He gave her a granola bar."
The nurse nodded, a few strands of bleached blond hair slipping out of a loose ponytail, "That's it alright. Seems like she didn't know how to open the granola bar and just bit right into it-that could contribute to her upset stomach. No worries though, boys. She'll be fine."
A nine-thirty in the morning, their plane landed in San Diego, California where they were received by a escort from the medical labs. Billy and James parted after a few kind words, some nonchalant exchange and a 'bro hug' before Billy disappeared with the unconscious Lily and two paramedics into an unmarked ambulance. James was escorted off of the tarmac, loaded into a blacked out Suburban where he was driven back to Berkeley to study the samples in his own lab.
Billy loathed being led around like a corporate puppy, which is exactly what position he found himself in. Along with the paramedics in the ambulance, there was a man with a clip-board, a fancy-ass name tag that glinted brightly-a reminder that Billy had played a part to remove Lily from her natural environment.
Alan's words surged through his mind, You're no better than the rest of them. Billy leaned over after buckling to the side of the ambulance, feeling suddenly nauseas.
"Tell me as much as you possibly can about Lily," the man said, sternly looking at him though Billy would never know it. The man wore horribly dark sunglasses, an authoritative gesture used only to remind Billy that he had even less control over the situation than he ever thought previously.
The question rippled through Billy, making the skin on his neck and arms prickle with goose flesh. At the beginning of the excursion when he was first recruited for the trip, the company had told him that the woman was absolutely unknown and that she must be captured and identified. As far as Billy knew, the only person other than James who knew about Lily and her name, how they found out her name, was Alan. Alan was one of those people that can be trusted with anything: he would take a secret to the grave and the end of all existence. It certainly wasn't Alan, Billy could be certain of that.
"How the hell did you get her name?" Billy growled, his fingers rubbing his temples in rough, jerky circles.
The man smiled, "I'm sorry, Brennan, but that's highly classified information. Please, go on with as much information as possible."
Billy sat back, looking at the man, "And what if I don't disclose such information?"
The man sat back as well, flipping the clipboard over. "You know exactly what happens if you don't cooperate."
"What about her?"
"You also know the answer to that question."
Billy looked at Lily laying strapped to the table, the pained expression having long gone from her hardened yet beautiful features. His hazel-green eyes lifted to the man's sunglasses. He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and sighed quietly, "The raptors have accepted her into their troop. The north troop of raptors are rivaled against the southern troop-the same troop that I'd come into contact with the last time I was on Isla Sorna …"
"William Brennan, please report to room 9. Brennan, room 9. Thank you."
He turned over in his bed that reminded him of a prison-not like he'd ever been in a prison (okay there was one time in college where Billy participated in a protest that ended with 16 students being incarcerated). The metal bed was like a large shelf that jutted out of a peachy-salmon painted brick wall and was topped with a thick, refreshingly lush mattress; though, the mattress did nothing for his back which ached that morning so bad he thought he'd be sore forever. The floor had tiles which had to be some sort of linoleum made to look like marble. Billy knew better than to think it was real marble. The room had a private toilet behind a separating wall with a stainless steel wash basin next to the privacy wall. On the other side of the privacy wall was a shower head hanging over a slightly indented tile floor with a drain at the center. A narrow rod spanned from one wall to the other, a dull yellow cloth curtain hanging from the rod. Across from the table was an out of place round edged oak dresser where he was disturbed to find that his clothes were folded so neatly it must've been mechanical and then ordered into the dressers by type of clothing, then color. Even his boxers were folded neatly.
He dressed, almost positive that someone in some room was watching and monitoring him at all times. As he stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him, he clipped a nametag to the collar of his deep cobalt blue button up shirt.
"William Brennan, please report to room 9 immediately. Brennan, room 9."
The voice was a bit more stern this time, unforgiving. He hurried down the hall to where he remembered the interrogation rooms being located. It was a north-west hall, lined with doors and large four-by-six windows which had to be two-ways.
He got to room nine where an armed man stood beside the door. He nodded at Brennan, checking his nametag for clearance before opening the door. The rooms must have been soundproof, because only when the door was opened did he realize that someone inside was screaming bloody murder. Though, as he entered, the screaming stopped.
"Thank God, she wouldn't stop screaming. We can't even get close enough to sedate her without using a dart gun. You must calm her," the woman was the same one who'd paged him over the intercom.
Billy looked at Lily, her body bruised from thrashing about so violently. He felt sorry for her, wanting to cradle her and comfort her but knowing that without human contact for so many years, she was probably a little more than a typical 'rogue'. He smiled at Lily and waved.
The raptor girl was strapped to a chair and wore a hospital smock. Her once ratty auburn hair was combed, brushed and clean—absolutely silken. They must have cut her hair as well; the once long and flowing dread-like rods of thick hair were now gone, replaced by tight deep red waves that were no longer than chin-length. She almost resembled a 20's flapper with her wildly curled hair. Her eyes were on him, locked intently on his face, a glimmer of recognition in her pale grey-blue eyes.
He smiled at her, nearly unable to contain his excitement when she gave him a quarter-smile in return. The woman frowned and set her things down on the metal table, "You can handle her. I'm going on my break."