ADAPTATIONS
3 – Hammond's Good News
The rest of the day seemed to go well enough, considering how worse things could have been. Pet and Derek could see how strained Muldoon was for the next drink, but was determined enough to not give in. Until that evening. Pet let him have two shots before she smashed the rest of the Scotch bottle outside. Now if only she could find that damn whiskey bottle. The last place she remembered it being was behind the coffee pot. No surprise Muldoon had taken it and hid it someplace.
The next day, Derek looked around inside while Pet searched the outside. A fresh pile of dirt gave away its hiding place. Neither two people were sure when the disgraced game warden went outside to hide it, but he did. Pet dared her good friend to test her patience and his determination to get the bottle as she kept it close to her. With everything that had been going on, neither of the three people remembered that was the day John Hammond was to stop by. Then came that early afternoon.
Outside, a helicopter appeared over the treetops and came in for a landing in a grassy clearing shy of the bunker. Pet heard the muffled sounds of the rotor from within the concrete structure and looked to Derek in alarm.
The man also appeared a bit surprised by the sound. "Oh shit, I forgot!" He darted out of the central room. "I should go wake up Uncle Rob. He said he wanted to be woken up from his nap should Hammond show up early."
"Wait, what?!" Pet sat up in her chair in wide-eyed alarm. "You didn't tell me he coming today!"
An answer didn't come to the hybrid's hysterical questioning as she watched the bounty hunter leave the room. She snorted in a fit of annoyance and scrambled to her feet to follow. No sooner had she stepped out of the room than the heavy steel door leading into the bunker swing open. Light flooded into the hallway only to be replaced by the stocky form of a very fatigued John Hammond.
In his current state of health, he shouldn't have been making the trip anyway but wasn't going to let anything stop him from coming to the remote location nestled in the foothills of the California mountains. His blue eyes framed behind his glasses instantly fell on the hybrid upon entering the bunker and went motionless. This was the first time he'd seen her alive and in the flesh since Isla Nublar so many years ago. He opened his mouth to speak, but all his mouth could do was tremble in threatening tears.
Pet flexed her toe's signature sickle claws into the concrete floor, but once sensing the wave of overwhelming emotion stemming from the man she began to stand down. The force of the much older man's sadness and regret slammed hard onto the hybrid as she had felt nothing so strong in emotion such as this before.
Hammond breathlessly stated, "Pet," and took a step closer to the woman.
Behind him, the bunker door slammed shut, and it echoed the hauntingly quiet hallway. Standing a bit down the hall were Derek and Muldoon, both people watching with a mix of dread and suspense. A part of Muldoon expected the hybrid to strike out at the visiting man, but when he saw her raptor eyes melt into blue-green, he knew otherwise.
Pet released a breath she had subconsciously been holding and whispered, "John," in the process.
In the time since Hammond's arrival to the bunker, Pet couldn't believe she was listening to what the much older man had to say. She stared at Hammond in complete disbelief. Had she just heard him right?
Pet blinked. "The Badlands...in Montana...in the United States." Hammond excitedly nodded. "That's your plan on where to hide me from InGen?"
Derek stared at the hybrid in bewilderment. Was she not getting it? "Pet," he stated, "think about it. What's the Badlands known for?" She cut her eyes down on the man. "Fossils, Pet. Fossils! Paleontologists! Dr. Alan Grant?"
The woman's jaw dropped in realization. She suddenly went rigid, eyes wide in a lapse of panic. Muldoon opening and closing the kitchenette's fridge snapped her back to reality, especially when seeing a Crown Royal bottle in his hand. She snorted and got up, going over to the man pouring him a shot. He didn't bother giving her a passing glance when putting the bottle back in the fridge and neither did she when pouring the shot down the sink's drain.
She, instead, remained attentive on Hammond. A fleeting look of panic swept over the older man when he saw the ex-game warden become livid at the hybrid. Muldoon pointed a finger at the hybrid, but his words were cut off by her snarling at him. "I'm trying to help you get your shit together, which starts with getting rid of the trash that you've collected!"
Derek was staring at the woman in the same panic Hammond was. "Wha...but...That was a perfectly good shot!"
Pet's eyes shifted from blue-green to a raptor's in their sockets when she glared down at the man roughly a few years older than her. "This is a group support effort. We're in this together."
"But, but, bu-" The hybrid's snorting shut him up mid-word. "I'm not the alcoholic! Why should I get off?"
Pet gave Muldoon another glare before she strode back to her seat next to Hammond to resume their conversation. "So," she huffed, "you're sending me to Montana...To work with Dr. Alan Grant..." Hammond looked to Muldoon biting a fist in anger and back to Pet. "Um, John..."
Hammond held up a hand not resting on his white, fossilized amber topped cane and chuckled. "It's already been arranged, and I must say, Dr. Grant is excited to be receiving a raptor specialist to assist him with his current excavation!" Pet opened her mouth and closed it repeatedly for several moments, lost in thought. She blinked at Hammond before finally driving her clawed hands between her knees. She decided it best just to give up and accept it. "I told him you would be arriving in two weeks."
The hybrid lowered her brow down on the man. "That's a bit of a wait, isn't it?"
Hammond was about to answer when he came to think about it; he didn't know how to respond. Derek answered instead. "You're not ready to be integrated into society, yet. No offense, but you still have a wild hair up your ass that needs to be removed." Pet hissed a shriek in offense. "And that...your noises you do. You can't do that around other people. If you start making those noises, it's going to draw attention to yourself, and people are going to start noticing more unique things about you. You need to learn self-control."
Muldoon shook his head as he leaned over the kitchen cabinet. "She's never going to have complete control over herself. One will always take control of the other in certain situations." He reached for the fridge but stopped, clenching his fist in an attempt to resist temptation.
Pet frowned. "I've never had to refrain from making noises before. Not when I was in Kenya and not when working on the islands. Well, I'll take that back. There was that one time special visitors came to the zoo. I had to behave myself, then."
Hammond spoke up in a comforting voice. "Otherwise, the people around you in Kenya knew what you were as were those at the park. You weren't expected to restrain yourself."
"Not to mention she knew better, for the most part," Muldoon continued, standing up and turning to face the group.
Derek crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. "Question is, how do we stop what's a part of her?"
Pet met her guardian's worried gaze and frowned in sympathy. "I have an idea..." All eyes turned to the hybrid. "Every time I make a bark or a screech...whatever...you," she gestured to Muldoon with a clawed hand, "get to take a shot."
The man liked the sound of that. Knowing the hybrid, she'd make sounds regularly which meant he'd get to drink quite frequently. "Deal," he stated. Pet nodded and got up, going over to him.
They shook on it, Derek wincing. "Something tells me this is going to be rough." He turned his gaze over to Hammond. "Take me with you when you leave, here?"
It was almost nightfall before Hammond left the bunker, pleased with himself and overjoyed at the hybrid being as well as she was. At least she wasn't horribly maimed, disfigured and most of all, dead. The helicopter lifted off with the man inside, leaving the three people to themselves. Pet and Muldoon glared at the other in both anticipation and dread of their deal.
Over the course of several days, she'd bark or snort, and he'd take a shot. It peeved her to see this, as he made no effort to hide it, but it was part of the deal. She continued to see it as an incentive to bite back her natural urge to bark, shrill, shriek, snort, hiss and any other raptor-like noise she was prone to making. On a few occasions, she had caught herself about to make a sound and stopped herself. She'd cheer triumphantly, only to falter when Derek would deliberately do something to distract her and set her off.
One such occasion was smacking her across the backside. The young man quickly learned that was a no, no between both deal-bound people as his uncle decked him across the jaw and Pet claw at his back. Though her swiping at him wasn't enough to do extensive physical injury, it did break a little bit of the skin to which he admittedly liked.
Day 3. Snort. "Damn it!" Pet grumbled and buried her face in her hand, refusing to watch her very good friend shoot himself in the mouth with a fix of whiskey.
Day 4. Bark. "Son of a-" Another shot was taken to join the other three the man had taken earlier that day.
Day 6. Sno- Wait...Muldoon glared at the hybrid from across the table. "Ha," she blurted and slammed a clawed hand down on the table. "Didn't make a complete snort!"
Derek 'fumbled' in his reaching for an old newspaper, spilling her drink in her lap. "Oops. My bad," he snickered.
Pet jumped to her feet and hissed a bark. "Damn it you little shit!" She took a clawed swing at the bounty hunter, but he was already running towards the door with her following after him, shrilling.
Muldoon shrugged. "Guess that's two shots then," and got up, going to the fridge.
Day 9. Pet was in the bathroom and opened the door to come out, shrieking when Derek deliberately startled her. Unfortunately, her shriek was something rather girly sounding and not anything like a raptor. Muldoon poked his head into the hallway from around the bunk room's doorway. "What was that?"
Derek busted out laughing. "Pet screamed like a girl!" His laughing started to slow when he saw the hybrid glare down at him, upper lip lightly curled. "Oh shit." He took off running down the hall and had almost made it to the bunker's main door before getting pounced on and sent to the floor.
Day 12 and Pet was sound asleep when the sounds of gunfire woke her. She instantly looked around the bunk room to find a couple of the two men's rifle cases missing. She got up and ran outside to see uncle and nephew target practicing, roughly twenty feet away. At their feet was a collection of soda cans they had accumulated since residing in the bunker. She sighed in relief until she saw a bottle of something sitting on a small patio table between them. Resting next to the bottle of whiskey were two shot glasses. She stood, arms crossed over her chest as she watched for confirmation on what she assumed.
Muldoon aimed with his Winchester lever action rifle and shot at a can sitting roughly seventy-five yards downrange on a tree stump. He nodded to himself and lowered the rifle to pour himself a drink. The hybrid lightly growled to herself. She turned and went back inside, going straight to the bunk room to retrieve and load up one of the available guns. She wasn't going for damage, but more for something to prove her point. Why the hell Muldoon still toted around her first gun was beyond her, and she opened the case of her .22 long rifle. She hadn't shot that thing in years. The hybrid then went to the wall locker the ammo was kept in and loaded a single round into the rifle. Back outside she went.
Still standing where she had left them were the two men. Derek took aim with the Winchester as Muldoon stood with the half-full liquor bottle in hand. Oh hell no. The hybrid aimed the bottle and fired, the glass shattering on the bullet's impact. Both men yelped in fright of the suddenness and instantly looked to the woman standing behind them. Pet barked a shrill at the pissed off Muldoon staring at her wide-eyed and jaw dropped.
Day 14. Hammond was due to arrive in roughly two hours. Muldoon and Pet continued to stare at the other, both people not having a said a word to the other since she shot the whiskey bottle.
Derek felt awkward and cleared his throat to try and break the tension between the two. "So uh, how about that-"
Pet growled, "Shut up, Derek," and continued to glare at her disgruntled good friend.
Two and a half hours later the helicopter landed, and much to the surprise of the three bunker mates was without Hammond. Pet tilted her head to the side as Derek scratched his head. "Hey, uh...Where's the old geezer?"
The three gathered their belongings and loaded up into the white and blue helicopter. They each took a seat, Pet sliding all the way to the other side with Muldoon sitting next to her and Derek across from them. The pilot turned around to inform his passengers. "Mr. Hammond sends his apologies for not being able to make it due to his current bad health."
Derek nodded, "Ah," not immediately noticing the flicker of worry in the hybrid's eyes.
Muldoon frowned as he already had a feeling this would happen. He could see it in the much older man's face that something wasn't right and it concerned him them. Gradually the helicopter lifted into the sky and away from the bunker beneath them. Pet could honestly say she wasn't going to miss the place as it felt more like a dungeon than anything. Four weeks she had spent, there. Four exasperating weeks.
A little over an hour later, the group arrived in San Francisco, California. Pet's face was glued to the window as she watched the ground and its buildings become more massive in their descent. Once the helicopter touched down did the hybrid start to panic. She looked down at her feet and up to Muldoon horrified. They'd see her feet and would surely make mention if not to them then someone else about it.
Derek reached into his backpack and tossed her a pair of folded up socks. "They're my last clean pair," he stated.
Hastily, she put them on. They weren't enough to hide the shape of her feet nor disguise her sickle claw entirely. Derek grumbled a sigh. A few minutes later, the helicopter's door was opened by a crew chief and motioning to the passengers they could get out. The group did so and stayed low to remain clear of the still spinning prop. Despite Derek's shoes being tied as tightly around Pet's feet as possible, they still slid around and added a clomping effect to her steps.
The crew chief looked down at Derek's feet to see just socks, the bounty hunter shrugging. "I just absolutely hate traveling with shoes on."
The crew chief accepted the answer, as he had heard stranger things, and motioned the three newcomers to follow him. After the rotor started to power down did he speak. "Mr. Hammond sends his regards and best wishes." He led them to a brand new red, four-door Jeep Wrangler and left to aid the other crew chief with the post flight inspection on the helicopter.
Pet looked at the new vehicle with a flabbergasted expression. "Oh wow."
She got into the driver's seat and noticed an envelope with the name Veronica Renee written across the front of it. The young woman took the envelope and was about to open it when Muldoon scowled at her. "Move your ass, Pet. No way am I letting you drive." She frowned and did as told, still holding onto the note and crawling into the passenger seat. The two men put their belongings in the back of the Jeep and got in. Muldoon noticed a several page letter in the hybrid's hands and was curious. "Who's that from?"
Pet bit her lips together and answered. "It's from Hammond."
Derek sat in the backseat and leaned forward, so he was now propped against the front seat's center console. "What's it say?"
Pet went back to the beginning of the letter and began to read out loud for all to hear. In the meantime, Muldoon put the Jeep into gear and started to drive off.
"My dearest Veronica Renee, a.k.a Pet.
"I can not begin to explain my deepest regrets for not being able to make it there today as my ailing health got the best of me. I hope you will accept my gift as repayment. Seeing you alive and well those days ago was the best thing that's happened to me in a very, very long time.
"These past few years have been rough on this old man, and I had all but given up hope of you being alive. When I was informed by Mr. Mitchell of your unfortunate demise, I knew better than to believe him. As the years went on, however, I found myself believing his story. Then came Dr. Ian Malcolm in his returning from Isla Sorna to tell me otherwise. You were alive and offered proof. I regretted not being there for you in the past when you needed me the most and knew this was my opportunity to at least right one of many wrongs I had done. I sent a team to find you.
"I had been keeping tabs on a certain young man, Derek Muldoon, and knew he'd do what was needed to get things going. His becoming hired by InGen to assist in tracking you down was an unforeseen circumstance that just so happened to work out for the better. Funny how things work. As soon as I was told you were recovered from the island, I wanted to see you then. My bad health had other plans, however, and I was forced to wait. When I heard you were adjusting to being away from the wilds of Isla Sorna, I couldn't wait any longer.
"I wanted to bring you back with me, then, but couldn't. InGen has been steadily coming by my estate in search of you. From what I understand, they've been doing the same to Dr. Malcolm and Dr. Grant as well. Anyone they would suspect you of taking refuge with, they have been interrogating. Now that the smoke has settled, so to say, things look to be in the clear. As I stated, arrangements have been made for you to stay with Dr. Grant at his excavation. Along with this letter are a map and everything you need to know to assist you in your journey. I do hope all goes well for you, my dearest Pet. Though I haven't shown it, I have always regarded you as my daughter. Please forgive me for my misdeeds.
"Best of luck and with my love,
John Hammond
"P.S. The Jeep is technically yours."
Pet sniffed back a sob that had crept up on her during her reading the letter and flipped through the letter pages to find a printed out map of Montana. Another page showed an enlarged section of Montana with a circle around a dot near a lake labeled Ft. Peck Lake. Next to it were a series of coordinates.
Derek leaned in closer over the hybrid's shoulder to look at the region. "Great. We're off to the middle of nowhere, it seems." He flopped back down into the back seat. "Looks like it's going to be a hell of a drive." He sighed. "Next stop, Montana."
While the ADAPTATIONS chapter series is far, FAR from finished, it's at least a start and Raven and I agreed it best to repost the bunker revisions while we brain storm on how to tackle the dig site chapters, next. It's a chore we're both not looking forward to. Some lesser chapters will be removed, smaller chapters compressed while the overall gets a make-over. So brace yourselves, loyal Pet fans, it might be a while before the next set of revisions is posted.
