RECOVERY
2 - Relaying the Message
Derek pulled up to his apartment and parked in the tiny, single car garage he had to pay extra for. It was worth it, though, especially when avoiding stalkers in times like now. The only downfall was the garage being so narrow; he was barely able to open the door enough to get out. The young man slid between his car and the wall to get outside and closed the door. Out of habit, he looked around half expecting to see the black truck, or anyone for that matter, and scoffed to himself. Seeing he was alone, he locked the garage door and went inside his studio apartment.
There wasn't much to it. Just a futon bed with a decorative quilt tossed over it he mom made for him and the nightstand nearby that held a lamp and alarm clock. At the foot of the bed was the closest and cattycorner from it was the bathroom door. Across the room from the bed was a TV stand with a flat screen mounted to it and a DVD player on the lower shelf. To the right of the TV stand was the kitchen, where the younger man went.
He opened the fridge and got a beer out, not caring how early in the day it was. He was about to go to an island full of dinosaurs and wanted to at least enjoy the day before flying out. He cracked it open and crashed down on the futon to think. For the past four or so years, he thought the hybrid known as Pet was dead. That's what he and others were led to believe after her collar was retrieved off the island during InGen's first hunt of her. It was after receiving the devastating news that ruined Robert; a man Derek considered more of a father figure than uncle.
Making up his mind, he reached under the futon to get a boot box out from under it and flipped up the lid. Inside it was his passport, rolls of emergency cash in the hundreds, a few small pictures, a zipped-up pistol case and a cheap cell phone. Derek picked up the phone, turned it on and waited for it to start up. The first moment he could, he started dialing a number he had memorized. He took another sip of his beer and waited for an answer.
Across the world in Kenya, bloodshot grey eyes set in a scared face studied a recently taken picture. Robert Muldoon sat on a dark blue couch and in his lap was an overnight expressed envelope with John Hammond's address listed as the sender. Along with the picture was a letter, but the message remained partially unread on a coffee table in front of the couch. At first, Muldoon thought this was a prank until he saw the date the picture was taken in the bottom right corner. He brought a hand to his scruff covered chin and frowned. This whole time, she was alive. For the past four years, he had been lied to and told she had died to the Rex.
His thoughts, however, were peeled away from the picture when his home phone started to ring next to him on the table. Muldoon reached over and answered it, expecting it to be Hammond. "You had better tell me what the bloody hell this is about!"
Derek knew this conversation wasn't going to be easy and grimaced at the possible scenarios to which it could go in. He responded. "Hello, Uncle Rob."
"Derek?" It had been years since he had last heard from his nephew since their fight and wasn't quite sure how to react.
"Look, I know I'm probably the last person you want to talk to, but-"
"Damn right!"
Derek grimaced under the weight of his uncle's voice. "Just listen to what I have to say." He tried to calm his racing mind; trying to think of how to explain everything. "She's alive, Rob…your girl, Pet... She's alive."
So, it was true. She was alive, and this wasn't some sick prank. Muldoon's heart sank, and he released a labored breath. "How do you know this?"
Derek could hear the older man's voice crack and frowned. "InGen has hired a team of professional and highly experienced hunters to go to the islands to try and find her. Last time they hired a bunch of half-ass twits. Not this time. These people know what the fuck they're doing and are going in loaded with anything and everything from assault rifles, grenade launchers, to night vision goggles to name a few. They plan to kill her, no matter what."
"I suppose you're one of the hunters hired for this?" There was an edge to Muldoon's voice, as though daring his nephew to say yes.
The younger man chose not to answer the question directly but instead decided to answer around it. "InGen's team is flying out tomorrow morning at seven-thirty on a private jet from San Diego." Silence from the other side of the phone was haunting to hear, Derek feeling slightly intimidated. "I know how much she means to you, which is why I'm risking a lot to tell you this. Do something about it before she's gone forever. Good luck." The younger man ended the call and turned it off, unsure if he did the right thing or not. He took another chug of his beer and plopped back against the futon, further deep in thought.
Muldoon slammed the phone done, angered by the audacity of his nephew and Hammond. The more the thought about it, the more he wondered. Would he be more angered over no one telling him the truth only for him to later find out for himself? Or was it better he be told now by the two people he felt he had left? He picked up the phone again, but this time to call Hammond. He was going back to the islands and with what he hoped would be with his own handpicked team.
The early morning scenery of the airport outside scrolled through the InGen leer jet's windows as it took off. Derek sighed and leaned his head back against his seat. He adjusted his .9 mil Glock's shoulder holster concealed beneath his leather jacket and shot a mocking smile to Virgil, seated across the aisle from him.
The younger man taunted. "If you hunt anything similar to how you drive, InGen is screwed. Not only were you careless and let yourself be seen, but you also lost your target."
The rugged hunter sneered. "Best to watch your back, boy. Never know when someone's gun might just...go off..."
Derek shrugged off the comment and looked back outside. "I'm more concerned about what's on that island; not you and your team."
"Ignorance is bliss, hmm?" Virgil extracted a hunting knife from his belt and admired it in the sun shining in through the plane's windows. He chuckled to himself and watched the other man from the corner of his eye.
Meanwhile, Derek wondered if whether or not his uncle was on his own plane, flying to the island.
Stars of Africa's late night twinkled around the wing of a C-130 airplane. The vibrations from the props could be felt throughout the aircraft, and in the seat Robert Muldoon had nestled himself into. He knew he should try and get as much rest as possible, but he wasn't tired. He was nowhere near being tired. The adrenaline from the anxiety coursing through his body kept him on edge, and his mind strung up in anticipation of seeing his Pet. It had been damn near four years since the park incident. Four, incredibly long years and he felt every single day of them pass by since. As sad as it was to say, things had been easier with the belief the hybrid was dead. Everyone who had grown close to the girl accepted it as the unfortunate truth and moved on. Or tried to at least. For Robert, there was no moving on.
In a seat next to him was a lumpy, loaded duffle bag pulled at the seams. Anything and everything he could fit inside it in the way of extra ammo, survival supplies and medical supplies, he did. He knew all too well the dangers of the island when the dinosaurs were contained, and now that they were now unrestrained, the threat level had increased. He knew the dinosaur species and their habits after spending as much time working around them and studying them as he did. Packs would be formed and territories established. The only problem was, which predator staked a claim on what part of the island? How numerous were the packs? How many packs were there?
It wasn't just the carnivores that posed a threat, either. The herbivores were very protective of their young and should anyone inadvertently wonder too close to a nest, things might not turn out so well. So much had changed and he wasn't even sure if he'd be able to keep up with the demands. Muldoon wasn't that much older than he was then but was more out of shape. Gone were the days where he could hike up and through rough terrain, carrying heavy bags while doing so. After the raptor attack, walking would sometimes become a chore on his hip depending on the extent of the trup, the exertion behind it and even the weather.
The man shifted in his seat to try and analyze the five other men that made up his search and recovery team. Four were game wardens from Hammond's zoo Muldoon recognized from the days he worked there and knew he could trust them. A tall black man named Amadi sat and observed the ex-game warden. Muldoon remembered him as being a fast runner and even quicker thinker.
The African pressed out an attempted reassuring smile. In his rich African accent, he spoke. "Do not worry, Robert. Everything will work out. We will get the girl and be off that island before the others can find her."
Muldoon scoffed. "They have Virgil Reynolds on their team."
Amadi's smile shattered to disbelief. Any respectable big game hunter and or poacher knew Virgil Reynolds. He'd even been ballsy enough to come onto Hammond's zoo property and kill an elephant. He kept denying it was him, but everyone knew otherwise. Funny how he had managed to walk away from the entire incident scot-free given the damn good lawyer he had hired.
Amadi rolled his eyes. "I hope that son of a bitch gets eaten by a dinosaur or dies some horrible death."
The comment was enough to make Muldoon smile, something he didn't do anymore. He reached into his jacket's pocket and retrieved a flask. He twisted off the top and took a deep drink. The last of team members in the plane's belly shook his head, wanting to say something but knew better than that. Muldoon settled his gaze down on the fifth man. He was Caucasian and from London. His dirty blonde hair was cut short to the scalp that matched a neatly trimmed goatee.
Muldoon had initially met this man upon starting a job at the London zoo. Those days weren't exactly what Muldoon would call his high points. More like scraping the barrel for anything that paid decently for his experience. He could only tolerate sitting around his sister's townhouse in London for so long before he felt on the verge of a breakdown. He had to be outside and actively doing something, preferably with animals.
There, he met a man he felt whose talents and skills with animals were being wasted. He could read an animal's body language and know what it was possibly thinking or was going to do. Out of all the other zoo personnel regardless of time served at the park, Muldoon respected that one man over all the others.
Both men visually studied the other. Muldoon questioned. "Something you need to say, Mr. McCroy?"
The second man neither nodded or shook his head. He merely focused his attention elsewhere in the plane. "Shouldn't you at least try to stay sober, given the severity of what's to come in just a few hours?"
Muldoon huffed a snort to himself and took a swig from his flask anyway. He needed something to help him relax so he could get some sleep. Better this than nothing.
