RECOVERY

3 - Her Island, Her Way

Three days had passed, but Pet didn't know this. Her raptor-like eyes fluttered open to find her vision hindered by something on her face. She brought a weak hand to the obstruction and brushed away leaf litter stuck to her cheeks and forehead. Slowly coming to, she began to notice all of her was smothered in fallen leaves as though it a blanket draped over her by nature. She pushed herself into a semi half seated position and groggily looked around. Water drops that had collected in the leaves ran down her body when she moved. Its cooling liquid felt refreshing to her still warm body, though she wasn't as feverish as before. Her throat felt a bit better, despite it even being a little raw.

The hybrid scratched at her head and found her hair matted with leaves as well as mud. Great. That was going to be a pain in the ass to clean out later. She sat up all the way and finished cleaning away the bits of leaves. She needed a bath.

Within minutes, the young woman was at a natural pond rippling at the base of a waterfall crashing over rocks. It was one of her favorite places, and she stripped down to submerge herself in the water. Scars showed silver against the natural tan and darker brown patches of her skin. Along her left side ran a scar she rather not think about, given its origins and the memory that went with it; the Rex when trying to help Alan Grant and the others escape. Another more prominent set of three scars ran diagonally across her left shoulder blade from where a juvenile raptor thought it would take her on as its next meal. Big mistake. Along her right leg stretching from her upper thigh and to her calf muscle was scar she had obtained from a Stegosaurs. It grazed her leg with one of its leg spikes as it tried to fight her off from stealing out of its nest. The omelet had been particularly good that day. Pet usually wasn't one to take eggs from a nest, but she knew this particular female was infertile as all her eggs always ended the same way.

The water felt so good, never mind it being colder than she usually preferred. Pet stretched out and began to float, closing her eyes to enjoy the sensations playing at her senses. The ripples tickled her skin and teased her scalp in a relaxing way. Oh, how she loved moments like this when she felt nothing but peace with the Jurassic world around her. Her enjoying herself was abruptly ruined, however, when a growl and conjoining pain tore at her stomach. She was hungry. Maybe she could enjoy this just a little bit longer? Pet tried to push the thoughts of food out of her mind. She needed to wash her clothes. Yeah, she could do that.

She went back to the shore and retrieved her shredded clothing. Her once white tank top now resembled a grey, loose fitting sports bra, and her shorts...well...the button was gone, and the zipper permanently stuck midway. She had taken to using a piece of small, narrow rope as a belt and this was her good pair of shorts, too. Her other pairs were tattered with holes placed randomly along them from the different fights she had gotten herself into. She ran a finger through a new hole in the side seam of her shorts and frowned. Wouldn't be too much longer and this pair would be no good. Needles and thread were becoming harder to find. The only other needle she had on hand was one she kept sterile should she need it to stitch herself up again.

Oh well. Pet began rinsing and wringing out the worn garments until the fresh mud was washed out. Her stomach growled again and with it, a stronger hunger pain. She could feel herself start to get sick with hunger and knew she couldn't procrastinate hunting anymore. What was she hungry for, today? Compy meat tasted something similar to chicken, but they were such a pain to catch. Pet was always having to come up with new ways of tricking the little bastards to catch them. The old bait and cage method worked on some of the younger ones who hadn't quite wised up, unlike their older counterparts. Then there was always a good morning egg. A rump roast from a Gallimimus? So many decisions.


Derek stood and watched the two InGen contracted military helicopters descend onto the Costa Rica mainland tarmac. He tilted his head to the side. Coming up behind him was Virgil toting his rifle case in one hand and a tactical vest in another.

He set the case down and began strapping the garment to his body. "You afraid?" He questioned with a smirk.

The younger man didn't answer when collecting his backpack and rifle case from beside his feet. He squared his chocolate brown eyes down on the other and walked towards the helicopter. The twelve men from Virgil's team split up and got into the helicopters, anxious to begin their hunt.

Virgil rode in the second helicopter and Derek in the other. The younger man scowled at the company seated around him and locked gazes with a rather cocky Australian who had seemed to gain favor with the team's leader. He wiggled his brows. "We're going to light you up good, boy."

"Because I hadn't heard that before," Derek sighed out. "Marshal, right?" The Australian's upper lip curled. "Right. Well let me tell you...you scum are no different than the ones I get paid to drag back to the authorities. Tell me, how many of you shit birds are wanted for whatever crimes? I assume poaching to be some of your specialties and maybe even weapons and drug dealing." The six men he rode with glared at him.

One man who sat to Derek's right snorted. "I say we use this little shit as bait. Splice him open from head to nuts and let him bleed out. See what kind of game we can draw in."

Derek just smirked at the comments, his eyes still locked onto the man's seated directly in front of him. Once the helicopters were loaded with the men and their gear, they lifted off the tarmac and proceeded forward to what was sure to be some of the hunters' graves.


Raptor-like eyes watched and studied every Gallimimus dipping their heads into shallow, lake water to feast on the soft, aquatic plant life within. Pet poised herself for a quick attack once she had found the weaker of her possible targets. Her breathing was light to avoid being heard, and she crouched, motionless until time to attack. Off to the side and knee deep in water was a dinosaur that caught her interest. It was young but seemed to walk with a limp. Bingo. Because of its injury, it wouldn't be able to run as fast, and with it wading in water it would be slowed down even more so. The hybrid flexed her sickle toe claws and growled lowly to herself.

Ready, set...what was that? A sound in the distance perked her ears, and she cocked her head in the direction of the sound. As it grew louder, she was able to identify it as a helicopter. No, two helicopters. Again?! Oh for crying out loud. The Gallimimus herd scattered at the sound, squawking amongst themselves and splashing as they ran out of the water and into the protection of the forest. Pet heaved a sigh in absolute frustration and barked a shrill in annoyance. Pet immediately began camouflaging herself with the loose mud along the lakeshore. And she had just washed off not too long ago. Maybe it was just a bunch of tourists out to take a gander at the island.

The roaring of the helicopters' rotors tore through the air as they passed directly over Pet. She threw herself to the ground and because she was painted in mud, blended in with the forest floor. She waited for them to be completely gone before she got back up. What had brought people back to her island? She was going to find out and made sure to stay low when proceeding in the direction the helicopters had come from.


Virgil stepped out onto the sandy beach of Isla Sorna and peered out at the tropical forest line that stretched out before him. He shouldered his rifle and gathered his belongings from the floor of the helicopter. The men he had traveled with too got out and joined him. Derek stood at a distance from him, both men refusing to look at the other.

The team leader called to the bounty hunter without taking his eyes away from the jungle growth. "Better watch your back, young Mr. Muldoon." Now their gazes met, Virgil smirking. "My men have expressed their dislike in you and whoever they dislike tend to-"

"Can it, Reynolds," Derek interrupted. "Save your bullshit for someone who gives a damn." The younger man set down his stuff to pull out his map off the island and compass to study them. A quick glance of where they currently were in conjunction to where they were to set up camp let the man know which way to walk in. Without needing to be told, he picked up his stuff and trudged into the forest. "See you losers at the campsite." By the time Virgil and the rest of his men arrived at the predetermined coordinates for the camp, Derek already had a spot set up. "Glad to see you ladies finally show up." He grinned and kicked back, resting his feet on his backpack.

Marshal rolled his rifle off his shoulder and armed it, aiming it at Derek. Vigil intervened by standing between the two men and glaring at Marshal. "Not now," he growled to the other. "Remember what I told you."

Derek's smile got bigger. "Aww, see you do like me!"

Marshal flipped on the safety to his weapon and lowered it. "Should've just let me kill this little bitch!"


By late evening, she heard them; voices. She peeked between two bushes to find a team of eight men and heavily armed at that. Her raptor-eyed stare kept a close watch on who she figured to be the alpha of the group. He was tall with broad-shoulders and wore a black hat on a head having a stern expression. His tactical vest made him look more menacing as she counted several rifle shells strapped to it. Other than high powered rifles kept close to each one person, pistols were strapped to their thighs or held in holsters at their chests. Knives could be seen attached to belts, tucked into pockets and even peeking out of boots. Miscellaneous types of equipment were laid out on a tarp next to several cans of ammo. She was able to identify some of the equipment to be night vision goggles, tasers, a box of grenades and a duffle bag full of who knew what else. She raised a brow at the men. These hunters were nothing like the ones she had seen Terrence Mitchell lead. These men were out for blood. They were here for her. Who told them she was alive?

Ian Malcolm didn't seem like the backstabber type to go running and telling InGen about her, so it had to be one of the company's employees sent to tag dinosaur specimens for another sad attempt at a park. Ludlow. That piece of- She growled under her breath. Coming up from the side and weaving between trees were two other men. One of them was younger than the rest of the others in the hunting party and looked familiar. Dark hair, dark eyes...so familiar. Pet was so close to placing where she had seen this person before. Then it hit her when his name was called by the alpha male of the group.

"Find anything, Muldoon?" Virgil planted his hands on his hips, eager to hear what the younger man had to report.

Pet clenched her jaw in anger and growled as she dug her claws into the soft ground beneath her. How could she forget? Derek Muldoon. The all too troubled nephew of Robert who had come to Kenya one summer for disciplinary action from his uncle. She remembered him, now, and was confident he remembered her too. So, this was who they sent to hunt her down, was it? The alpha she vaguely recognized as well though couldn't quite recall from when or where. She continued to listen to the conversation.

Derek shrugged. "Found InGen's ruined campsite a couple miles southwest of here."

"Anything of her?"

"Some old tracks around the site, but that's about it. They looked about a week or so old."

Pet reverted her eyes from the sight and bit back her urge to tear through them. She couldn't. There were too many of these armed men. She'd have to take them out one at a time. No way was she going to end up someone's prey. That's not how things worked on her island. She slowly retreated into the underbrush, careful to not make a sound or draw attention to herself. She had things she had to do and wanted to get everything ready before it got dark.