Writing this chapter actually kicked my butt. After posting chapter 16, I wrote out four pages of what was originally to be this chapter. After taking a day to think on it, I decided I didn't like it and scrapped half of it.


A NEW HOPE

17 – Immeasurable Pains

The back hatch to a dark grey Chrysler van was slammed closed. Inside the backend were three cases of forty count water bottles and endless plastic bags of various groceries. Terrence adjusted his poncho's hood to prevent more rainwater from running down his back. His travel companion, George, grabbed the two empty shopping carts and combined them. His short legs scampered to the buggy return while Terrence got into the front passenger seat. Laying in the driver's seat were the keys, Terrence taking it upon himself to start the van.

George took his place behind the steering wheel, his heavy-set stomach barely brushing against the bottom of its fuzzy black cover. The headlights were flicked on, and the van backed up. "It's starting to come down, out there!" the squatty man exclaimed.

He was a kind soul with a balding head. Ringlets of reddish-brown hair clung to the back of his head and behind his ears. He was the type to stay loyal to his crew neck shirts, cargo pants, and high top sneakers that looked their age. While people outside the dig site teased him for this, he was loved by fellow volunteer site workers. He was nicknamed Big G because of his big heart and compassion for others.

The van turned right at an intersection and onto the stretch of highway that would take them back towards the excavation. Terrence saw a bolt of lightning far out in the distance to the left and pointed at it. "Did you see that?"

George nodded with a smile. "Oh yeah, it was neat! It's times like this I normally go out into an open area and camp out in the back of my van. Pop the back hatch open and record the storm. Sometimes if I'm lucky, I can get record some lightning, too!"

"Now, that's neat!" Terrence cheered. It was the simple things that made George happy.

Though he wasn't a psychiatrist any more, his analyzing people never stopped. He could tell the slightly older man was like a child at heart and wanted to nurture that. There were too many people in the world that were cruel and callous to others.

Fifteen minutes later, their happy conversing stopped when Terrence jerked upright in his seat. It was difficult to make out at a distance through the heavy rainfall, but it looked like a car in a ditch. He shouted, "Stop, stop, stop, stop!"

Rather than gradually slow down, George slammed on the breaks, sending his passenger forward. If it weren't for his seatbelt locking in place from the sudden change in inertia, Terrence would have crashed into the dashboard.

George leaned forward and squinted. "Is that what I think it is?"

The pit of Terrence's stomach flopped. "Oh, my God." He fought with the belt buckle before finally breaking loose of its restraint. Not giving a damn about leaving the door open, he fell out of his seat and scrambled around the front of the van. Thirty feet away and upside in a ditch with standing water in it was a familiar red Jeep. "Call 911!" he bellowed, tearing off down the rain-battered highway and to the Jeep. "Then call Dr. Grant!"


Inside the office trailer, the satellite phone rang. Also, inside the office trailer was a young woman no older than nineteen. She had been sent to the trailer to try and find some cleaning solvent she couldn't remember the name of. But Dr. Grant had been very specific on where to find it. The satellite phone ringing startled her, and she yelped. Wide blue eyes fell on the blaring phone, and she worriedly looked around. Should she answer it?

The teenager stood there, antsy on the spot and conflicted. Finally making up her mind, she picked up the phone and answered it. "H-hello?"

A man's frantic voice met her ears. "I don't care who you are, find Alan immediately!"

"O-Okay!" The teen daintily ran through the rain to the fossil tent. The dig site lead was still where she left him and going on about his theory on a fossilized foot. "Dr. Grant, it's for you."

The scientist stared down at the phone in confusion and accepted it. "Yes?"

"There's been an accident!" It was Terrence's voice. "Somehow, Derek lost control and flipped the Jeep into a ditch!" Grant's smile dropped. His eyes widened, and the color drained from his face. Billy noticed the sudden onset of mood change and sprung to his feet. "Pet won't wake up!"

Both the fossil and phone were dropped to the table in a loud crash. Grant exploded out of the tent, almost knocking down the teenager, as Billy grabbed the phone. "Who is this? What's going on?" Billy got an ear full as he watched his mentor shout at the top of his lungs for Muldoon. Not wanting to waste any time, Billy got the keys to the museum truck.


"Pet? Can you hear me?" A familiar garbled voice…it sounded like Terrence…could barely be heard over a terrific ringing in her ears. Next came registering the tremendous pressure in her head and pain at the right side of her head that felt like her skull had been split open. "Pet?"

Blood blue-green eyes cracked open into thin slits. The flashing lights of emergency response teams flooded her blurry vision. For a moment, she thought she heard Grant's voice call to her right before unconsciousness pulled her back under.

Something rudely yanked her back awake, and she cried out in agony. The most excruciating physical pain she could ever remember being in ripped through her lower back, across her hips, and up her spine. There was no immediately describing how painful it was, other than it made her beg and cry for it to stop.

How did she end up like this? What happened? Was it the T-Rex? No…the Spino. The plane crash. The Spino was attacking them. Alan. Billy. She needed to help them. Pet tried to move, only to scream out in pain again. Gentle hands rested themselves on her shoulders to hold her down.

She was on a stretcher with an emergency medical technician carefully securing her in place with a strap over her chest. "Ma'am, I need you to hold still."

"Nica, please don't move, honey." Grant. She heard him. He survived the Spino attack. Billy. What happened to him?

Pet's lips slightly parted, and in a hoarse voice, she asked, "Are you hurt?"

Grant shook his head, confused. "No, no, I'm okay."

"The Spino…" she weakly breathed. "The plane…Billy…is he?"

It quickly occurred to the paleontologist what the hybrid was referring. She wasn't immediately aware of the vehicle accident she just went through and thought she was back on Isla Sorna. Grant and Billy exchanged solemn frowns.

Grant wasn't about to explain the real-life scenario and nodded with a smile instead. "Yeah, he's fine. Billy is okay."

The younger scientist met the weak, half-lidded gaze of his good friend. "I'm right here, Nica."

The EMT, a tall man in his mid-fifties with pepper colored hair, placed a breathing mask over the woman's face. "I need to get her into the ambulance for emergency medical care."

Grant remained at the foot of the stretcher as it was loaded into the back of the idle ambulance. The inside of her muddy water splotched right elbow was thoroughly wiped off, and an IV inserted into the vein. He looked over his shoulder were the second ambulance was, Derek already inside, and the cut on his forehead getting cleaned. He could hear Muldoon ask him what happened and see Derek's mouth moving in his replies.

Terrence came up behind the senior scientist, muddy water soiling much of his clothing and person. "How is she?"

Grant couldn't say for sure. He wasn't a medical doctor. The fact she was somewhat conscious and talking had to mean something. "She's definitely been better." His frown deepened; lips pressed thin. "She thinks she's on the island…after the plane crash."

"Ah shit," Terrence groaned. "That's a concussion if not from severe brain trauma."

That was not what Grant wanted to hear. Now wasn't the time to chastise the man for his poor choice of honest wording. "How's Derek?"

Terrence shrugged. "Better than Pet, I suppose…suffering from a concussion. He's complaining of feeling nauseous and dizzy. He's able to hold a conversation, though…says he lost control of the Jeep when he hit a piece of tire in the road."

Grant nodded at the answer. It's not like he could argue it. If he could, he'd be slapping the stupid out of Derek for his reckless driving. His troubled gaze fell on the hybrid's bare clawed feet. It deeply worried him that much more what the EMT was thinking and who all he would tell.

"Terrence…"

At hearing his name, the addressed man perked up. He didn't like to see his customarily composed friend so visibly upset, so whatever he could do to alleviate those troubles, he'd do it. "Yeah, Doc. What's up?"

"I need you to do something very important for me." There was a severe tone of Grant's voice and matching look in his eyes. "Seeing how Veronica is…unique…I'm sure there's going to be questions and maybe even some gossip at the hospital regarding her. There's only one person I can think of that can silence that with the threat of a pretty strong legal team."

Terrence understood what was being requested and nodded. "You want me to call Mr. Masrani."

"Personally, I'd rather not be bothered by him right now, but for Veronica's sake…" Grant's voice trailed off, and he turned his attention back to the hybrid. The EMT was tending to the gash on the right side of her head the best he could. Her muddy, blood matted hair was proving to be an obstacle.

Terrence gave a gentle squeeze to Grant's shoulder. "Say no more. I know exactly what you mean." He spun around and sprinted to where George stood, shaking on the spot beside his van. "Load up, buddy. We have a special job to do."

George appeared a bit livelier with the news. "We do?"

"Yup. If you want, I can drive. We need to go back to the dig site so I can call someone."

George handed Terrence the van's keys with a nerve-wracked hand. "Is Ms. Nica going to be okay?"

Terrence noticed Derek wasn't asked about. It was understandably why. Derek was prone to pulling nasty pranks on George, seeing how gullible he was. Terrence nodded and smiled reassuringly. "She's going to be just fine." He wasn't so sure if he was telling himself that or George.

Before George got into the passenger seat, Grant could hear him asking, "Why did Ms. Nica's feet look like a Velociraptor's?"

Ooooh boy. Terrence had no way of knowing how to explain it and started the van. The van was carefully navigated around the museum's truck and a cop car positioned to stop any oncoming traffic.


Slow rhythmic beeping. Derek knew that sound and opened his eyes to a dimly lit hospital room. The TV was on, though muted and displaying the Discovery Channel. Set up next to the bed was the room's tray table with a covered dish on top of it. Beside that was a bottle of apple juice. On the other side of the tray table and stretched out in a chair was his uncle.

This baffled Derek, and he blinked several times to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. "Uncle Rob?"

Muldoon heard the raspy voice and sat up. "It's a good thing you're still alive."

Derek's bruised brow furrowed. "Was it really that bad?"

"It's a good thing the emergency response teams got there before I did. Otherwise, I would have beat the rest of the life out of you!"

"Oh." Derek lazily glanced around the room. "I thought you'd be with Pet." Silence. "Wait, if you're here, then does that mean she's…"

"You're lucky she's not dead. Unable to walk for the moment due to a lower back injury, mind you…but in stable condition."

Derek slowly laid his head back down on the less than comfortable hospital pillow. He squeezed his eyes shut and choked out a sob. "I'm so sorry! This wasn't supposed to happen!"

"What did you think would happen, speeding down the highway during a rainstorm!?"

"I wasn't speeding!" Derek sobbed again and pounded the sides of his fists against the bed in frustration. He began explaining what happened a second time, though he remembered retelling the events of what happened the night before.

Two doors down the corridor, Grant sat at Pet's bedside. She was still asleep, never mind it being a little after three in the afternoon. The right side of her head had been shaved to allow for the gash to be adequately cleaned, stitched and bandaged. He was almost sure she wasn't going to like that when she woke up. Muldoon's sudden outburst echoed the hallway, Grant grimacing. It could only mean Derek was awake and getting the ass chewing of a lifetime. He deserved it and then some.

A gentle knock sounded on the partially open hospital door. It was Terrence with a tense-looking George in tow. "Any change?"

Grant shook his head. "Just the murmurs and whimpers."

George remained inside the doorway, posture withdrawn, and head lowered. His eyes watched the sleeping woman as her heart monitor steadily beeped. As quiet as a mouse, he spoke. "Terry told me about Ms. Nica." Grant's kind smile on the volunteer worker faltered for an expression of dread. "It's okay. I won't say anything. She's always been so very nice and a good friend to me. I know we're all different in our ways…some more than others. And, and that's okay. Because that's who we are. Ms. Nica always accepted me when others laughed at me because of who I am. So I accept her."

The concern on Grant's face returned to a soft smile. "Thank you, Mr. Freeland. I appreciate that."

George stepped into the room a little bit more. "Will she be okay?"

"She's strong and a fighter. She'll be fine."


The afternoon gave way to evening, Pet finally waking up. What hit her conscious state, first, was the smell of mashed potatoes and gravy. A deeper inhalation of the delicious smells revealed a Salisbury steak. Raptor like eyes opened and a small turn of the head showed her room's tray table damn near underneath her nose.

"I had a feeling that would do it," sounded in the hybrid's ear in Muldoon's relieved voice. Pet sniffed the tray and coughed when breathing too deeply. "Easy, now. You got banged up a good bit."

Pet groaned. "Please tell me Derek lived so I can be the one to kill that little shit."

Muldoon chuckled under his breath. He felt an incredible weight fall off his shoulders. The last time Pet was conscious twenty-six hours ago, she was remembering the Isla Sorna plane crash. "Pick a number, stand in line. You're not the only person wanting to teach him a lesson. Although, I'm not so sure there's going to be much of him left after Dr. Grant has his say so with him." Pet's snickering turned into a cough. "Mr. Masrani, too. Last I saw here about ten minutes ago, they were both in there, giving him a good verbal lashing."

Something resembling a hissed snort came from the hybrid, next. Her jaw muscles twitched in her cheeks, and her upper lip subtly curled. "Why can't I seem to get away from that guy?"

"It's good he's here. There was concern among everyone about the emergency responders and medics saying something about you." The blanket where Pet's feet were moved about as she wiggled her toes. "He's even paying all the medical bills for both you and Derek."

"Not like that's an issue." Pet stared at the blinds drawn over her room's window. She could see it was either getting dark outside or still dark from the storm system. "What time is it?"

Muldoon took note of the time on the small wall clock hanging above the room's sink. Pet was usually good about taking note of her surroundings. The fact she was utterly oblivious to the clock let the man know the hybrid wasn't entirely all there. He forgave this. A concussion and pain killers were a hell of a thought killer.

"It's eighteen twenty-three hours."

Pet's weak hand reached for the food tray. She knew her life long best friend and guardian would try and help her feed herself. She may or may not allow him. It was hard to say. It depended more on her fine motor skills.

The plastic wrapper her spork, knife, napkin, and tiny packages of salt and pepper were in was easy enough to open. "How long was I out?"

"About twenty-six hours, give or take some minutes." Muldoon watched the hybrid fight with cutting her Salisbury steak into bite-sized pieces and opened his mouth to question.

Whatever words he was going to say were cut off by a sharp hissed bark. "I can do it myself." She always was a stubborn and independent one. He just smiled and lounged back in his seat. That was until a wad of mashed potatoes flew off the plate and landed with a splat on the floor near his boot. Muldoon chuckled, Pet snorting. "Shut up."