When do we get to the part about Isla Sorna?

Not yet, sorry to keep getting your hopes up. I mean, c'mon, we weren't even close to the shore, you know?

I'm going to get to it soon, but the stuff that goes in the middle is kinda important to the whole thing, so I can't just skip ahead or you'll be lost.

I'll give you a hint, though: That part will involve getting to Hammond's house, playing with a telescope, and getting into a pontoon boat.

Anyways...

Cynthia pulled the Jeep to the side of the road, checked the mirrors, craned around her seat to peer out the back window. Hard to see anything through the torrential downpour. "You think we lost them?"

I frowned, shaking water off our maps. "Not...sure."

Lightning flashed. Thunder clapped.

I stared at my companions in the back seat.

Even with Webby cradled in her arms, Zelda looked lonely. Betrayed. I'd essentially given our other two children up for adoption.

"I love you," I chirped.

She responded with a similar noise. Webby repeated the sound, snuggling into a more comfortable position against my girlfriend's body.

I grinned.

Cynthia cleared her throat. "You absolutely certain you can't see anything?...With your amazing raptor eyesight?"

I leaned over the seat. "Hmmm."

Buttface licked my face. I pushed her back. "Hey, stop that. I'm trying to see out that dark window."

She just made a confused fluting noise through her nasal crest.

I kept looking. After all, we'd just barely escaped the Visitor Center with our lives...

Yeah, I know we're in a Jeep right now, but we're going to do a little flashback thing, okay?

Ahem. Visitor Center...

Hemmed in my dinosaurs on both sides, we backed into the center of the lobby, the area with the smashed up staircase.

By the way, the floor needed a complete repaving job. Cracks everywhere, the concrete had not been made to withstand repeated body slams from eight ton lizards.

After the incident with Rexy, I didn't know what to expect from the other raptors. I mean, me and the T-Rex aren't technically friends, and I scared her off, so...diplomatic approach.

I waved, with one claw holding Webbigail. "Hey! Hi, guys! Come out of the rain! I know we're technically warm blooded somehow, but, you know, kinda chilly out there..."

Moriarty growled at me.

"So, um...I see you didn't get eaten. That's cool, right? What happened to Rexy, by the way? Did you kill her? Is she still stalking around, all scary like?" I pantomimed being a T-Rex and imitating her roars.

Felicity sighed and rolled her eyes. "She got away, waded across the ocean to another island."

"Hmm! Sounds like a good place for her! I've seen maps of Isla Sorna, you know. There's nothing over there."

"Yeah? That would have been a lot of good meat!"

Clouseau blew a raspberry. With her horse-like facial marking, I half expected her to whinny. "Her scales are like chewing leather."

"This is all your fault!" Moriarty barked. "We could have killed her, had you not interfered and scared her off!"

"No, you couldn't have." I formed my claw into a teeny dinosaur shape. "This is you." And then I stretched my arm really wide. "And this is Rexy. I just saved your life. You're welcome."

"She ate Streaktail!"

"I know, I know! It's horrible! I'm upset about Hastings, too! But, c'mon! All she had to do is step on you, and you're history!"

Moriarty gave me a grudging look like I could be right, but instead of admitting it..."You stole Splotchy Chest from me! I can never forgive you for that!"

"Her name is April Zelda. Besides, geez, how many mates do you really need?"

He...didn't seem prepared for that question.

"I love him," Zelda chirped.

Moriarty answered this with a defeated growl. "You also attacked me. Several times."

"Yeah, well, uh, sorry. I was protecting my friends."

"You are only a friend to humans!"

I swallowed. "Not true. Why do you think I helped you fight Rexy?"

Moriarty didn't acknowledge this with a reply. Instead, he only muttered, "The...dinosaur behind you looks angry."

I glanced back. We'd been given a slight reprieve because, I guess, One Eye believed Moriarty would kill me.

So...roughly ten Proceratosauruses in total. Not sure how there came to be so many. Maybe `Life found a way,' like, twice as many times as it did with other dinosaurs, or Hammond found a cheap and easy way to clone a bunch of them (maybe using dog genes like Cynthia suggested?)

Okay, eleven of them,if you counted Buttface, stupidly wagging his tail as he brought up the rear.

Willie growled and leapt at me, but I kicked her in the head. Unfortunately, two of her friends came nipping at me a second later, a warty one, and a Proceratosaurus with a missing head fin.

I responded with a chicken kick that knocked them both back, but then realized I needed my hands free, and my girlfriend.

Cynthia picked up some bowling balls, hurling them at the Proceratosaurus pack. Out of the five thrown bowling balls, only one hit the mark, a dino with a ring shaped birthmark (like the dog from Little Rascals). Well, at least it got us some space!

She rubbed her lower back. "Ow! I think I pulled something!"

I quickly thrust Webby into Cynthia's arms. I suppose I could have given her to Zelda, but...not one hundred percent sure of her intentions regarding a baby veggiesaurus, and I needed her to help fight Willie's friends. Anyway, she didn't complain. "Here. Gotta do some Kung Fu for a sec."

She smiled and cradled the mini dinosaur. "Awww! Hi, cutie!" But then she stared at me. "Wait, Kung Fu? For real?"

I shrugged. "I know a few things."

"Better not be like that B.S. my brother does. He says he knows karate, but he's full of crap."

"I've watched the best videos."

"That...definitely sounds like crap, but I guess we're dead anyway."

I played bowling ball shot-put with a few of Willie's friends, and since the scaffolding crew had left so much junk behind, picked up a tape measure, using the tape end to flog the ones still standing.

I retracted the tape, scratching a pig-like one across the face, flipped the tape measure around, and whipped them, bolo fashion, with the little metal box.

A freckly Proceratosaurus jumped up and bit the tape on the rebound, and no more fun with the tape measure.

I threw another bowling ball. Let's just say I shouldn't join a league.

I took Edmund from Zelda, offering her to Clouseau.

"You already got a baby? Boy you breed fast!"

I blushed. "Not mine. But that would be cool, wouldn't it? Want to hold her for a moment?"

"She's so cute! I'd love to!" Clouseau cradled the baby for a moment, then glared at me. "You know, I'm still not happy about you burning me with hot cheese...And burning my face with that spray thing...And banging a pot over my head."

"I'm sorry. There was a lot going on."

"Your mate also ran over my face with that brush machine. I haven't forgotten that. Also, you struck me in the face with a plastic number thing."

"Okay, okay!" I groaned. "I'm sorry!"

She shook her head. "Don't do it again."

"Don't worry, I won't. I don't have any reason to...I hope."

Clouseau narrowed her eyes, but didn't argue. "Have you seen Zorro anywhere?"

I reddened. "She's fine. I just let her crash upstairs in my room."

I cast a backward glance at my foes. "You mind taking Edmund someplace safe for a moment?"

Lightning flashed outside. Thunder rumbled.

"...Preferably somewhere inside the building?"

"You want me to do that? After you threw a stone egg at my head? And got me all sticky with soda?"

"I have a poor defenseless baby raptor that needs watching, and you seem to be a good choice for a guardian."

"I shouldn't...but..." She tickled Edmund. "I can't say no to that."

Clouseau padded off with my baby.

Well, okay, our baby. Zelda gave me a questioning grunt.

"Sweetie, she's technically your aunt."

That earned me an eyeroll.

Cynthia picked up a cigarette butt from the ground. "Hey. Al...am I crazy, or was this not here before?"

I frowned. "Uh...I'm kinda in the middle of something. Why's this trash important?"

"I think I'm not the only human left on the island. I mean, Arnold the operations supervisor is a smoker. You think he's still here?"

"I...hope not."

She glanced around for more cigarette butts.

"Let's table that thought for later. Gotta protect the babies first." I did a double take. "Wait, so I'm Al now?"

"Do you like Al?"

"I...think I prefer Albert."

"Get me through this and I'll call you whatever you want."

When I reached for Percy, Zelda resisted.

"Honey, this is dangerous, and I want them to be safe. Don't you want them to be safe?"

"What if we can't get them back?"

"Are you saying you don't trust your own relatives to take care of a baby raptor?"

Sighing, she grudgingly let go of Percy. I passed her to Felicity.

"Awww..." She sniffed the infant. "She doesn't smell like you."

"Really? What, with the amount of time we've been holding them..."

"No, I mean, they don't smell like they came from you."

"Well, good, because I would have had a lot of unanswered questions."

"What's with the veggiesaurus baby?" (I paraphrase, of course).

"That's not mine either. I found her. Isn't she cute?"

"She'd make a nice snack!"

I frowned. "Then Webby is not for you. You mind going with Clouseau and find somewhere safe to hide the baby?"

Felicity scowled. "I really shouldn't. You smashed a bowl over my head, and beat me up. And your mate hit me over the head with a plastic thing. And, and..."

I raised my claws in surrender. "I get it. Sorry. I'll try not to do it again."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh all right. It would be good practice, and your baby is so cute!" She marched off after her pack mate.

"Uh...Albert?" Cynthia sounded uneasy.

I looked back and found Mickey sniffing the woman, and eying Webbigail. "You eating this one, or can I have it?"

"Umm..." The last thing I wanted were angry raptors on top of Proceratosauruses. "Actually, I'm saving it for later."

She snarled. "I should kill and eat your prey just to spite you! You threw burning grease in my face!"

"Look. I'm sorry."

"No you're not. You were helping our prey to escape."

"Well, it's already done, so..."

She shook her head and growled. "You're lucky you're so cute and attractive. Go ahead and eat your prey."

Cynthia's eyes bulged. She nearly dropped Webby. "Did I hear that correctly? You're saving me for dinner?"

I raised my claws. "Kidding! Sheesh! You try to practice deception to save someone's life..."

Casting Mickey a wide eyed nervous glance, she responded in raptorese, "He's definitely eating me."

A puzzled dog look developed on the raptor's face. "Wow! That's the cleverest prey I've ever seen!" she backed away, apparently unsure about eating her.

The Proceratosaurus with skin like a toad lunged at me, so I picked up a Jurassic Park lunch box and smacked her across the face. A rotten banana, sandwich and thermos came flying out.

Zelda, in the meantime, already had her teeth ripping through the jugular of Toad's body. "Sometimes you a dumb dumb, Albert," she mumbled with her mouth full of blood. "Just do like this—"

Freckles and a waffle skinned Proceratosaurus chose that moment to gang-bite her (is that a word? It should be!).

I popped Freckles in the head with a bubble level, grabbed a carpentry square, darted in close and threw it at Waffles like an axe.

I guess the latter attack could have been deadly, if I'd regularly practiced Mountain Man skills, but that subject never came up in Kung Fu movies. The L-shaped piece of steel made a rather unsatisfying bonk off her head, and both Proceratosauruses growled and came rushing toward me.

What was Moriarty doing all this time? Sitting on the floor and watching, neutral as Switzerland. Guess I don't blame him, the Proceratosauruses had no beef with him.

Mickey...joined him, and even lay beside him to enjoy the show.

When my foes came close, I threw a two by four into the air, slid on the floor between them, brought the board down hard. You have no idea how much skill it takes to do that while wearing a backpack.

Still cradling Webby in one arm, Cynthia picked up a nail gun, smirking at my handiwork. "Huh. Not bad. Maybe you could teach my brother a few things."

Once I got out from under the two by four, she stomped her foot down on the board, pressed the nail gun against it, and...I'll spare you the gruesome bloody details.

Buttface, alarmed by the violence, disappeared into the restaurant.

"Hey! Where are you going, Buttface?"

I frowned at the dead bodies. "Cynthia, I think you've lost a pet."

Cynthia sighed and shook her head. "Oh well. She did eat Lucky. At least we still got Webbigail."

The moment she raised it to use the other Proceratosauruses as target practice, I crossed myself and jumped out of the way.

Couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. I breathed a sigh of relief when she ran out of nails.

"Albert!"

While we'd been otherwise occupied, Willie, Ms. Oinks and Petey had flanked Zelda from three sides.

I searched around for a weapon...

A circular saw.

A power sander.

A nasty looking hammer.

...Excalibur.

Don't ask me how it happened. Somehow, in between Rexy wrecking the displays, and Nigel tearing down the staircase, a conjoined piece of rebar got left behind as a mythic token.

Vaguely sword-like, it stood amid the Junior Archaeologist Excavation display like the fabled weapon on the title screen of that video game I once threw into the hallway. Bits of it had busted off, hilt-like, one side curving like a rapier. Colored non-adhesive tape dangled from it like fancy ribbons.

I grabbed the handle, giving it a solid tug.

A bit anticlimactic, as it had only been embedded a bit in sand and a fake dinosaur skull, but I still raised the rebar sword above my head and yelled, "Yatta!"

I leapt from the phony archaeologist set, brandishing my sword.

Dullest blade ever. You couldn't even stab with it, unless you were super strong, I mean, it's rebar. Fortunately, it still fit under the category of `cane-like weapon,' a subject I still knew something about from films.

I lunged forward, brought the `sword' down on Petey's head, brought it around in a side swing. She collapsed on the floor...

...Right next to a broken wooden plank that bore a striking resemblance to a shield. It even had a strap attached, probably to hold a paint bucket or something.

Grinning, I slipped my other claw through the strap and gave Miss Piggy a stabbing poke.

A harmless attack. Oinks growled and turned to face me, her pig-like appearance reminding me of a monster from my video game.

Since I couldn't make a stabbing motion and shoot magical bullets out of my sword like in my game, I again resorted to clubbing motions. I gave her a smack across the face, turned my head to check the entrance.

Two Proceratosauruses lay dead in front of Moriarty. I hadn't even seen it happen.

"Three left." I battered Piggy and Petey with my weapon.

I loved my girlfriend, but she lacked subtlety. The moment I had both reptiles conked out on the floor, she had one disemboweled, the other she munched through the throat.

"Albert? A little help?"

Again, Mickey had gotten too curious about Cynthia.

I rushed to the human's side. "Hey! That's mine!"

"You're not eating her."

"She's still mine."

"Yeah. And don't you forget it!" Cynthia addressed Mickey in raptorese. "By the way, did you see a tall, good looking black man around here somewhere? Chain smoker? Says `mother pumpkin' a lot?" (Okay, she didn't actually say mother pumpkin, but you get the idea).

Mickey tapped a claw to her chin. "I...may have eaten someone matching that description...why?"

The woman paled. "Uh, never mind. Forget I asked."

I stepped in between the two, facing the raptor. "Hey, why don't you eat one of those little dinosaurs instead? They're everywhere."

Mickey frowned in disgust. "Hmmm."

I pointed to the three that remained. "Those are still alive. Whattaya say?"

"The maimed one does seem very spirited..." Mickey ran after Willie, but didn't catch her. The wild chase among the debris allowed us a moment's reprieve.

"Hey," I hissed to Cynthia. "You wanna get out of here? I got an idea."

She looked at me like I were crazy. "What the hell do you think I'm trying to do here? Cook dinner?"

I cleared my throat. "Okay...So I read somewhere that dance was first invented by tribes of humans to make groups of hunters appear larger and scarier to lions or whatever. I'm thinking, maybe boogie woogie out the door?"

Cynthia furrowed her brow, suppressing a laugh. "Are you high?"

"No...but, you know, I thought it best, considering how these raptors are kinda like family and you're not..."

She frowned. "It's raining."

"I think I saw some Jurassic Park umbrellas in the gift shop."

Cynthia cast an anxious glance in that direction. "Honestly, not very close. Let's...just go. I'm not made of sugar."

"But you are made of tasty meat."

The color drained from her face. "Don't joke like that. I mean it. Don't." Her eyes darted back and forth. "So what do I do? The Macarena?"

Noting my blank stare, she handed me Webbigail and performed the dance.

I clapped appreciatively. "Umm, that's weird, but I was thinking more along the lines of saber rattling, or like a sword dance or something. Know anything like that you can perform? Possibly a Russian boot dance?"

"Uh...no?"

"Never mind. Just pick up something dangerous and act like you're killing the air." I passed Webby to her.

"One handed. With a cute baby dinosaur."

I raised my sword and shield in a violent thrusting motion. "Yaah!"

"Whatever. This had better work!" She picked up a rechargeable drill, squeezed the trigger to make sure it had juice.

When Mickey came near, she held the trigger down and waved it in her face.

"Whoa!" Mickey got scared and jumped back.

I strutted across the floor, doing the funky dance from Peewee's Big Adventure.

Zelda gave me the same look when I'd played around with the landscaping cart. "I don't understand."

"Fight the air," I whispered to her. "Trust me."

Groaning, she bit an imaginary dinosaur.

I grinned. So cute.

Willie rushed up to me, crouched low to attack, but warily remained stationary when I came stomping up to her like Peewee in platform shoes.

I jumped in place, did an imaginary swordfight. She retreated to a safe distance.

I jumped toward Moriarty, performing more wild slashing motions.

I boogied close to him, shaking my hips and tail. I think that scared him more than the sword waving. Zelda grinned and did her own thing.

When Moriarty made a growling retreat to a safe distance, I clanged my sword against my shield.

"Hoo! Hah!" Cynthia cried behind me, revving the drill.

She waved it around, hopping back and forth like a boxer. A pair of Proceratosauruses rushed her way, but she spun and drilled the air. "Hah!"

Zelda, well, she tried.

Mickey crept closer to me, growling. "What the hell are you doing?" (Obviously not an exact translation).

I merely clanged my sword against my shield, rolled my shoulders and hips, and stomped closer. She squeaked and jumped back.

I did the Chu-Chu-Ua.

Now, all of this had transpired while a huge storm raged outside the building.

As I'm raising my sword and making cries like karate people, and the Native Americans I saw in a movie, the storm just so happened to add some extra sound effects. Also, great illumination with the lightning.

Moriarty, Mickey, Willie and his two surviving buddies just froze and stared at us like we were gods or something.

"Yeah! We did that!" Cynthia shouted in raptorese.

That got them really scared, but unfortunately not enough to run away.

"Keep dancing!" I cried, performing a sword kata I saw in a show.

Snorting through her nose in amusement, Cynthia put Webby on her head, and did The Macarena with the drill in one hand. She had the drill running the whole time, it's a wonder she didn't punch a hole through a body part, or Webby.

Zelda...still tried.

Boom. The power to the building went out. I couldn't see who did it, but dinosaurs yelped.

"Now's our chance!" I shouted. "Go!"

You didn't have to tell Cynthia twice. She bolted down the stairs.

Okay, yeah, maybe raptors have night vision, but, you know, our awesome power over thunder storms, right? I rushed after Cynthia, Zelda at my tail.

For a moment, a panting and scampering gave me cause for alarm, but it turned out to be Buttface (unsurprised, I guess, by our wacky shenanigans. I guess she and her pack mates weren't that close?)

The muted lights from the generator kicked on, but, lucky for us, only once we'd made an exit from the building.

It's pouring buckets, by the way. If I were cold blooded, we'd have a problem.

Without asking, Cynthia ripped my sword out of my claws and threw it to the ground.

"Cynthia, what—"

"You're essentially holding a lightning rod. You're welcome." She passed Webby to me, digging in her pocket. "I think there's a key to a Jeep on my key ring, maybe something else."

"You mean, my key ring. And what about your drill? Doesn't that attract lightning?"

Falling rain plastered her hair to the sides of her head, her shirt and shorts rapidly becoming sodden as wash cloths. "Not as much."

Since I no longer had the sword, I looked kinda stupid wearing a broken board, so I tossed it aside as well.

Webby squawked in annoyance at the rain.

"That's great," Zelda complained over my shoulder. "We're the only two raptors with a plant-eater baby."

"Don't you like our plant eater baby?"

"Well, she is cute, but she's no raptor."

I nuzzled her. "We'll see Edmund and Percy again, we've just left them with relatives."

She sighed and nodded.

Moriarty and Mickey poked their heads out the entrance. I don't think they relished going out in this stuff. I know we didn't.

Crack! Lightning did actually strike the aforementioned legendary sword.

"W-well! Thanks for saving my life, Cynthia!"

She laughed. "De nada."

We ran.

In rain that came down in heavy sheets.

And yes, the map was getting soaked, too.

We searched the hillside for a vehicle. Mucho nada.

"Where would a Jeep be at, if we were to find one?"

Cynthia raised a hand to shield her eyes from the rain. "Dunno. I can't see my hand in front of my face."

"So, just keep going until we get to Hammond's place? On foot?"

"Oh hell no! There's got to be a garage somewhere...Are we being followed?"

I looked back. When lightning flashed again, I spotted dark shapes ambling our way through the downpour. "Yep."

"Shit."

More running.

"Do you know where we're going?"

"Hopefully," she gasped. Clearly out of shape. "I should be able to find the garage blindfolded..."

Our pace slowed to a jog. The dark shapes gained ground.

"Uh, Cynthia? Are you absolutely certain about that blindfolded thing?"

"Yup! There!"

Up ahead, barely visible through the rain, stood a low concrete structure, garage-like.

It used that mausoleum-like solid concrete construction we saw everywhere else on the compound. I'm thinking they probably would have used cinder blocks, had there not been dinosaur sized seismic activity rumbling through every day. The Jurassic Park logo had been spray stenciled on the side of the building in a manner that said, `Ah, to hell with it.' The roof...looked like faux thatch with aluminum under it.

No power. They only had the backup lights from a generator.

Cynthia fumbled in her pocket for the keys to the security door, but I pointed to a couple garage doors that someone had carelessly left open in their haste to leave the island. Rain water gathered in lake sized puddles on the concrete.

We quickly splashed inside, fighting with the doors in a desperate attempt to slide them into a closed position before our enemies arrived.

Well, Cynthia eyed the mechanics' jumpsuits for a moment, but then rushed to grab the dangly thing on the overhead door.

The first one came down, no problem. The other...very stubborn. I guess the rainwater or something got into it, and oxidation did its work. By the time we brought the overhead door to human knee level, the dark shapes had gotten closer, larger, their features more definite, even through the pouring rain: The eye gouged Willie, No Fin, and Wart.

And, at a cautious distance, two curious raptors...Maybe three.

We fought the door, but No Fin already had her nose through.

Cynthia tried to drill her in the face, but the battery chose that moment to run out of charge. She chucked it on the floor.

Cynthia picked up a torque wrench, I guess to scare the dino away, but of course no power. In her frustration, she just bopped No Fin over the head with it and kicked her in the face, reaching for a tire iron. I, in the meantime, rammed our foe with a rolling tool cabinet until she backed out.

We both grabbed the bottom of the overhead door, forcing it further down. A couple snouts came sniffing through the gap, claws reaching in, attempting to force the door open.

I and Cynthia kicked them, shoved the door to the concrete lip. Not a very satisfying or secure noise. Cynthia jammed a screwdriver through a slat to keep the door from moving.

We paused to catch our breath, looking around.

Cynthia said the place reminded her of a Toyota Service Center, minus the cappuccino machine, television...and foreign cars. One bathroom, RC Cola machine, one desk with a pile of service orders and whatnot. They had all the automobile lifts occupied with Land Rovers, pickups and Jeeps. Not an expert here, but I surmise the mechanics had stopped in the middle of a brake job, an oil change, a tire rotation, and maybe a muffler replacement. Rows of overhead doors on both sides of the building.

Cynthia again eyed the jumpsuits. She grabbed one, held it beside her body. "Albert, turn around."

Rolling my eyes, I humored her.

"You too, Zelda."

Zelda understood somehow. "Humans," she muttered, turning away from her.

"So...Cynthia...thanks for not calling me Ebert anymore. That was really annoying."

"No problem...So...uh...I've been thinking...When we were partying, you told me how you got rid of the T-Rex...A T-Rex can only see things that are moving."

"Yeah? Well maybe she saw a moving T-Rex skull...What's with the costume change? Entertaining a fantasy about being a grease monkey?"

"No..." Soggy clothing made a damp slap on the concrete. "Just a fantasy about not being wet...(This thing smells like menthols.)"

Vuuuup went a zipper.

I turned around, staring at her new outfit. "You look like a Ghostbuster."

"Gee thanks." She transferred the keys to a cargo pocket, rubbing her hands as she strolled through rows of parked vehicles.

Although otherwise lacking luxury amenities, the garage did feature a strip of Astroturf with a hole at one end.

"Oooh! Mini golf! I've always been meaning to try that!" Grinning, I searched for a putter.

"Albert," Cynthia groaned. "Let's try to find Hammond's place first. He might have an entire golf course."

"Oh wow! Okay!"

Our enemies banged and scratched at the doors. The screwdriver rattled. A door jiggled threateningly at the bottom.

"Ummm, I think we should hurry this up."

"Asshole!" someone shrieked outside the door.

Even with the thunder, I recognized the voice. "How did she get out?"

Cynthia froze. "Shit. The power!"

"Yeah...definitely think we should hurry this up."

She dug out the keys.

As Cynthia tried every single one in a Range Rover, Zorro yelled, "Asshole! You were going to leave me in that room to die!"

I leaned close to the door. "You got me all wrong! I am a very humane jailer! There's a dumbwaiter thing! I sent you food!"

Silence answered me for a moment. "What's a dumbwaiter?"

"Fair question...did you notice a funny little cabinet with food smells coming out of it?" I sent it from the downstairs kitchen."

Another pause. "The meat was not at all bloody."

I rubbed my face in frustration. "C'mon! It's cooked! How was I supposed to know you liked it rare?"

"It was too chewy. Parts of it were burned."

"Everyone's a critic." I sighed. "Look. You can't fault me for feeding you, right?...And now...You're outside somehow, so win-win?"

"You put me in a cage and made me hurt my head!"

"You made you hurt your head. I didn't ask you to fall into my weight set. Plus it's not a bad cage. I spent most my life in there."

"It's creepy."

I shook my head. "You're just lonely."

Honk! Honk!

"Albert!"

I looked back. A pair of legs stuck out from the open door of a Jeep.

When I ran to the vehicle, Cynthia leaned out and pointed. "Hey, grab my wet clothes, will `ya?"

I rushed the soggy laundry to her. "You're just going to wear wet underwear?"

"Shut up!" She turned the key in the engine. It always makes me anxious when people do that in enclosed spaces, even in a garage like this, but I guess it's a common practice. "Open that garage door and get in."

"But...wouldn't they get in?"

"That's why we gotta put the pedal to the metal, boy."

I hurriedly grabbed the door thing and pulled back with its long rope attachment. Cynthia, in the meantime, unlocked the Jeep for our companions.

Noticing how Zelda didn't know how to operate the handle, Cynthia cursed and let her in.

She had to heft Buttface in like a stubborn Labrador retriever and close the doors real quick.

By the time she got all that accomplished, I had the door pulled up all the way, climbing into the passenger seat. I did know how to open a door.

Cynthia looked down at the stick shift and swore. "Why did it have to be manual?" Muttering under her breath, she played with the clutch, gave the stick a cursory wiggle, and hit the gas. The Jeep protested with an angry grinding sound, but still lurched out into the rain.

"Ummm..." I pointed to the knob. "There's a diagram. I don't think that's how you're supposed to—"

"You spent your whole life in a cage. I heard you say it. Don't tell me how to drive a stick. This is human shit you don't know about."

I frowned. "Ouch."

We rolled around the gravel cul-de-sac, toward the corner of the building, where the road connected. The Jeep's headlights caught a cluster of moving reptilian bodies.

Lightning flashed, and they were at the sides of the Jeep. Cynthia gave the stick another cursory wiggle, shifted to a different number. The Jeep sputtered, threatened to stall, but she hit the gas, and it lurched forward with a surprising burst of speed...and grinding. Judging by the yelping, I think we may have run over a foot or a tail or two.

The Jeep fishtailed on the wet pavement as we hit the main road. Cynthia straightened us out, but even with the wipers on high speed, we couldn't see anything much through the rain. A wonder we didn't wreck into anything.

It would have sucked if there had been, say, a Triceratops in the road...and it would take even longer to me to get to the part about Isla Sorna, so be glad they were both in the clinic, getting treatments for their sick tummies.

It was bad enough that Buttface got a little too enthusiastic and bumped the shifter to neutral.

Thud. Something latched onto the back bumper.

Scritch. Bang. Thud. Several somethings.

Cynthia, pedal to the floor, turned the wheel back and forth...and naturally did more damage to the transmission during the gear shifting.

Our high profile vehicle rocked back and forth, threatening to topple over on its side (and cause this story another unnecessary plot complication) but somehow we stayed upright, and the fierce jostling loosened our foes from the back end of the Jeep.

Now, miles distant, Cynthia brought the Jeep to a very unprofessional and dangerous screeching halt.

All right, so...yeah. Back to where I started this chapter...

"I...don't think they're following us anymore, but I guess we should move."

Zelda whimpered. "I will miss our children."

"C'mon, honey. They're with relatives. We can visit them anytime. Plus Aunt Felicity and Uncle Moriarty will teach them how to be good raptors."

"They will not be people loving raptors like you."

"Wow! I didn't know you felt that way! Not to worry, we'll make our own eggs."

I turned my attention to Cynthia. "Any idea where we are?"

She shrugged. "You got the map."

I switched on the dome light, dug it out of my backpack. Although soggy, the ink held fairly well.

I stared out the windshield, squinting into the rain. "Ummm...looks...like..."

In the distance, I spotted the giant wooden King Kong gate that I'd previously opened with my teeth. I consulted the map to make sure. "Looks...like we go through there." The flashing red tower lights indicated we still had power...somewhere.

The gate automatically swung open when our vehicle approached. We rolled inside.

"What now?"

"We should go down the Access Road...whatever that is."

She turned the wheel. "That's probably the one off to the side with no track. What's next?"

"Go...down a few miles, and you'll reach the Proceratosaurus enclosure..."

"Oh hell no."

I shrugged. "You want to turn around and go back?...I mean, what's going to be there? All the Proceratosauruses were chasing us."

"I...guess you're right."

Not a bad guess, really. Unfortunately, after driving a few miles past those now familiar enclosures, we noticed some idiot had rammed into the sign directing us to the seaport. Cynthia slammed on the brakes, and we just stared at the broken sign.

"Which way, do you think?"

"Uh...it's pointing left."

"You sure someone didn't just hit the sign and spin the arrow around at random?"

"Well, if you're going to be a pessimist about it, maybe?"

The maybe had it. We drove down some weird service road, getting smacked by palm branches.

"Albert, you moron! You took us down the wrong road! What kind of stupid navigator are you? I should've—what the fuh—"

Someone had driven their Jeep down the side of an embankment, headlights and taillights emitting the feeble glow of a weak and dying battery. The driver had tied a winch cable to a tree down below, I guess to extricate themselves and use the road down there, but something had gone horribly wrong: The door hung wide open, dried blood caking on the windows.

You'd think a proper response would have been to put the Jeep in reverse and drive the hell out of there, but she actually shifted into park and opened the door.

"Uh...Cynthia? You sure that's a good idea?"

"Why not? I got two big Kung Fu raptors and Buttface watching my back."

I took a deep breath, not feeling nearly as confident. "Ohhkay...but could you make it quick?"

"Hey, you're the one who wants to be Sherlock Holmes. Don't you want to solve a real murder mystery?"

"Well...ordinarily that does sound fun, but this is kinda dangerous."

"Maybe that preacher guy was right. Maybe dinosaurs are really just giant chickens."

I crossed my arms indignantly. "I do not have feathers."

"I've read something that says you're supposed to." She made a mocking "Bawk" sound.

"Fine, fine. Let's do this...crime scene investigation."

She marched through ankle deep mud, in the rain.

"I thought you had fantasies about being dry."

"Shut up. I have to report this or I'm in deep doodoo."

Cynthia leaned into the open compartment, bringing out a name badge. "Dennis...Nedry."

"Ooh! I already know who the killer is! A dinosaur!"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, but which one? And how did the killer kill him so explosively?"

"Hmmm..."

Furrowing her brow, Cynthia climbed down the side of the hill, wobbling and nearly toppling into the mud when she hit the bottom.

She scowled, bent over, digging through the mud.

Cynthia brought out a muddy can of shaving cream. She turned it over, wiping it off. "So...the guy drives out to this ass-backwards service, gets stuck in mud, and...decides to shave?"

I shrugged. "Maybe he got tired of looking at all the facial hair."

She compared it to the badge. "This guy's got a face like a baby. He doesn't look like he needs to shave anything."

Cynthia stuffed it in a cargo pocket. "Guess he won't be needing this...Could be handy if I can find a razor. I am starting to look like a wooly mammoth."

Suddenly, a rattling sound erupted through the foliage.

When they emerged, I at first thought them to be young raptors, but they had these weird head crest things growing out of their skulls. Smaller than me, Labrador sized, but even Buttface towered over them a little.

The moment they made eye contact with me, scaly fins popped out of their neck like some kind of frilled lizard.

Their fins rattled menacingly. Globs of some nasty gray junk came flying out their mouths, spraying me in the face and eyeballs.

"Ummm...Cynthia? I...think we may have found our suspects!"