Epilogue

Consequences

Truth is incontrovertible.

Ignorance can deride it,
panic may resent it,
malice may destroy it,
but there it is.

Sir Winston Churchill

Jenny Lewis and Adrian Bettany took their positions on the stage. Standing and sitting before them were one hundred reporters and cameramen, who immediately jostled to get close to the stage as soon as the speakers appeared. Jenny and Adrian were alone on stage with no one to support them. They stood facing the crowd, two feet apart from each other. They both had a microphone stand in front of them. Jenny's was a few inches too high for her.

"Here, I'll get that," Adrian offered. He repositioned it so that it leaned towards her mouth.

"Thank you," she said. They then turned towards the reporters, who were already throwing varied questions in their direction.

Before they took any questions, they were going to explain what had 'happened' that fateful week.

"Could I have a little quiet for a second?" Adrian asked. He was a tall man, maybe six foot three or four, and had short, strawberry-blonde hair. He was the man who the US government had hired to help Jenny formulate the story. The reporters calmed down just enough to satisfy him. "Thank you. I would like to begin by explaining what actually happened. I believe it's quickly becoming known as the 'BioSyn Incident'. Around thirty years ago, a company called InGen was doing experiments, trying to… well, bring back dinosaurs, to put it simply. Of course, it never worked. The DNA they were trying to clone from was too decomposed, and they couldn't make it work. But the rumour persisted that they'd succeeded, and soon enough, another company called BioSyn tried to repeat the achievement. They soon found that it was impossible, but by then they'd already poured millions of dollars into creating a park to house the creatures. So, they decided to trick people into thinking that they had succeeded. They created some very lifelike models of prehistoric creatures, and filled the park with them. Then they sourced out a highly volatile hallucinogenic substance from an illegal producer with connections to terrorist activity." Jenny held up a vial of water, tinted blue. "They pumped this hallucinogen into the air, the water, even the food. It made people think the dinosaurs were real. But the hallucinogen was too strong; it drove the visitors insane. Soon they became violent, and during the night a riot erupted, resulting in the deaths of many of the staff-members, the visitors themselves, and the management, including Howard Rossiter himself. The National Guard had to be called in to restore order. Meanwhile, some of the visitors attacked the lab, resulting in the spillage of a large quantity of hallucinogen, which contaminated the local water supply, giving part of the population of Miami the same effect. Hence the myth of a 'battle of Miami beach'. Eventually, order was restored, but not until great destruction and devastation had been caused to Miami. For most of the victims of the hallucinogen, its effects proved fatal within twenty-four hours. Any questions?"

Noise erupted once again, and several questions were fired at Adrian and Jenny. Adrian eventually pinpointed one. "Yes you, in the blue tie."

The short, stout, balding man in a pinstripe suit and blue tie held his microphone towards Adrian. "How could you know all about the history of BioSyn? Do you have an informant?"

"Several, actually," Adrian answered. "Although only one of them stepped forward before the incident, a few others, whose identities are highly confidential, stepped forward afterwards."

Another reporter butted in. She was short, thin, and black-haired. "Surely they're facing criminal prosecution for their part in the disaster?"

"Their legal status is still being worked out at current." Adrian smiled. "Another question?"

A tall man with red hair was chosen. "How do you explain the video evidence for actual prehistoric and futuristic creatures? The hallucinogen wouldn't explain that."

Adrian fielded the question. "Several of BioSyn's models were animatronic, and remote-controlled. Once the hallucinating victims seized the controls from the staff, many of them used the animatronics to spread fear and panic. Hence, some evidence came up on camera."

Another reporter. "Who was this terrorist organization?"

"Their name was BlackSun. They were a part-time mercenary group, whose services were employed by BioSyn as security. They had access to illegal weapon concepts, some of which landed in BioSyn's hands. The body has been disbanded."

Another reporter. This one was looking to Jenny. "What sort of compensation are the victims' families going to receive?"

Adrian jumped in. "A compensation scheme is-"

The reporter interrupted. "Actually, I was asking Miss Lewis."

Adrian stood his ground. "Miss Lewis will-"

"It's OK Mister Bettany," Jenny said, "I'll take this one." She looked back to the crowd. "A compensation scheme is being set up in aid of the families of those who lost their lives, whether the family member was a visitor, or… in the armed forces. BioSyn has been disbanded, and its funds were put directly into the scheme."

...

Once the press conference was over, Adrian and Jenny disappeared through a curtain and into a side corridor. As they put their coats on, Adrian spoke up. "I think we did alright."

"Mm," Jenny replied. She didn't look back to him.

"So, what's now, back to dinosaur-hunting for you?"

Jenny buttoned up her coat. "Yes. Of course." She walked away and didn't look back.

XXXX

Douglas Ketterman took a seat on the comfortable armchair, and waited for the reporter to arrive. It was midday, and the sun shone brightly in through the large windows. The interview centre was in a high-rise block in the middle of Orlando. The day was hot and humid. Ketterman had shaved that morning, and wore a casual outfit of a light shirt and jeans.

The reporter finally entered the room. "Sorry about that, it's been hectic recently." He took his seat in an armchair opposite. He had dark brown hair with a fringe that spiked slightly at the front. He wore horn-rimmed glasses, and a casual outfit similar to Ketterman's. "Hi, I'm Theodore Ingvarsson." He outstretched a hand.

Ketterman prepared his best Glaswegian accent. "David McDonald," Ketterman replied with a smile, outstretching his hand.

Ingvarsson took out a tape-recorder, a notepad and a pen from his bag. He placed the recorder on the chair-side glass table, and set it playing. The pressure was on now. Ketterman loved it. Ingvarsson put his notepad on his lap, and started the interview. "Reporter Theodore Ingvarsson with BioSyn Incident survivor David McDonald. I'd like to start, Mister McDonald, by asking how you came to be in the park."

"Well, a friend and I were staying in Tallahassee. The friend was in WalMart one day, and got the ticket. Now, he knew that I'd taken a shine to the park, so he gave me it. I couldn'e get to the park t'e near bedtime, so I didn'e get a full dose of the… hallucinogenic substance, aye." This had to be offensive to someone. "I was in me bed when everything was going wrong, and the Guard rescued me. I was one of the few survivors."

Ingvarsson had been writing all this down. "So, did you see the creatures, then?"

"Aye. It was dark, but I could still make them out. Wi'out the drugs, I could see they weren't real. Never believed it. And I suppose I was right."

...

After the interview, Ketterman was escorted to a military base just outside Orlando. He was locked in handcuffs for the duration of the journey. He was taken on foot to a small room, underground, below the base. Here, he was greeted by a tall, bald man in his late forties, wearing the standard apparel for a high-ranking officer in the US army. This was Colonel Hopper, the man Ketterman had spied on just over a week earlier. He was flanked by two security guards on either side, and behind him was another officer whom Ketterman didn't recognise.

"How did he take it?" Hopper asked.

"Well," Ketterman replied. "He didn't seem incredulous anyway, but I guess that's how all reporters are. So, I held up my side of the deal. Now it's your turn."

Hopper stared at him. The other officer stepped forward, into view. His hair was light and short. He wore less stripes on his arm, so he was presumably of lower rank. "As we agreed, all charges against you have been dropped. It may be necessary for you to be called upon again to back up your story, so-"

"I ain't signing no more agreements," Ketterman told him.

"Very well." The officer stepped forward to undo Ketterman's handcuffs.

Hopper spoke. "Congratulations, Ketterman. You just lied and cheated your way out of prison. You're a free man." He never even came close to smiling.

The handcuffs came loose and were taken away. "And don't it feel great?" Ketterman smiled and walked away.

XXXX

Jackson was dressed up in denim jeans and a Miami Dolphins t-shirt. He didn't shave the past week, so the stubble on his face grew a little thicker.

He was the first in Hopper's office. Engineers had taken a break from fixing up the damages done by BlackSun, so Hopper could conduct a small award ceremony of sorts.

Next to him was Levine, who looked like the living dead.

Next to Levine was Stone, all cut up along his once youthful face. Shadows became more recognizable around his eyes. His left eye was blood shot. He looked like he'd been on an all night alcohol binge.

Hopper finally came in to his office, he looked rushed.

"Right gentlemen, I'm going to have to speed this up. I've got loads of crap coming at me and I need to sort it out." He grabbed three small boxes from his desk, each had a name on it.

"Jackson this is yours." He handed one to Jackson.

"Levine. You've been awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom." Levine took the small box from Hopper's hands. He looked at it, confused.

Hopper handed the last box to Stone, who looked mildly pleased.

"Okay gentlemen, you're dismissed, except for you, Jackson."

Stone and Levine left the office. Levine closed the door behind him.

"The Army Commendation Medal, eh?" Jackson smiled.

"No need to write that report, by the way."

"Really?"

"Major Johansson and myself will take care of it."

"Oh? Powers' replacement, right?"

"Yeah, he'll be leading the team while you're away."

"US Marine, right?"

"You bet." Hopper nodded, "Oh, your Captain rank pips won't be arriving until the end of October."

"So," Jackson looked passed Hopper's shoulder and through his window. "Army Engineers are also building up more accommodation?"

"After the incident in Miami Beach, the President felt that situations like these should be met with a much larger task force."

"Quite a team we've got here." Jackson smiled. "What's going to happen once the problem is dealt with?"

"That really wasn't expanded on." Hopper said quietly, he quickly changed the subject. "Well, I need to bid farewell to our British visitors. Good luck with your tour, Jackson." Hopper patted the captain on his shoulder.

"Thank you, sir." Jackson said quietly.

XXXX

Corporal Stone was a little brought down by the fact that when Jackson told the team their tour started at thirteen-hundred hours. He didn't think that the first two hours of their tour would be a briefing, then a have half hour to call their families, fifteen minutes for combat-role assignment and then finally be able to board the damn airplane.

All I need to do is sleep. Stone thought as he read through a Tom Clancy book.

Opposite Stone was Staff Dillon, the team's designated sniper, had already fallen asleep, along with the Sergeant next to him.

Stone looked around the Hercules' cargo hold.

If you can't go to sleep at least try. Stone closed his book and placed it in his backpack. He folded his arms and closed his eyes.

XXXX

"OK, I think we're good to go." It was a comparatively warm day in the Alaskan tundra, as Abby Maitland readied the Woolly Mammoth herd for their release. For the last week, the single bull and six females had been contained within a chain-link-bordered compound. It wasn't very large, but it was all that could be mustered at short notice. In the meantime, a more permanent residence had been prepared.

Abby was stood on a raised, iron walkway that ran around the fence of the entire enclosure, and linked to the nearby buildings. She was wearing a parka coat to protect herself from the occasionally biting wind. Together with the other, similarly-dressed specialists, she approached the iron gates and, from her safely elevated position, she hauled the gates open.

The spiral-tusked male led the way out of the pen, and charged out into the open. The immediate surroundings of their small pen were composed of a patchwork of conifer forest and open, intermittently snow-coated grassland. The perfect environment. Their habitat was bordered by extra-reinforced, iron fencing – basically, what BioSyn had used on the tyrannosaur paddock, except without the electric shock. Their habitat stretched across rivers, lakes, forests, and wide open plains. It was roughly 800 hectares in total size.

The plan was to leave the herd largely to its own devices. The mammoths would be protected by regular patrols, and monitored by rangers. Hopefully, within a few years, they may start to breed. Perhaps, within the decade, the scientific community would have uncovered enough DNA from dead mammoths to supplement this tiny gene pool, and a breeding group would have been well established.

Once the herd outgrew its confines, the borders would be extended, and eventually done away with altogether. Once the local population discovered these mammoths, they would be hailed as the last survivors of the species, rather than survivors of the BioSyn disaster.

These weren't the only survivors from Land of Time. The Delta Force soldiers also rescued the park's single Indricothere, a young male, and Rossiter's pet Microraptor. Most of the other animals had escaped the park before the bombing, and were now roaming around the Everglades to their own devices. They could also potentially go further afield quite quickly. How far the pterosaurs could fly was anyone's guess.

As for Abby, she would remain at the Alaskan base for a few more days to help settle the mammoths in. Lester had insisted that after that, she was straight back to work.

XXXX

Doctor Grant wiped sweat from his brow as the hot Montanan sun bore down on him.

Returning to the dig site was a relief. Due to the recent events in Florida, he had received a few uncomfortable stares from his co-workers upon arrival, but that didn't matter. He was back where he belonged.

The team's excavations on the Dromaeosaurus nesting ground revealed something remarkable. A few feet away from the nest containing the hatchlings, a second bowl was unearthed. It too contained fragments of shell. However, these shells did not come from dinosaur eggs. Their structure indicated that they belonged to some sort of freshwater clam. Also discovered in the bowl were the partial remains of conifer cones, along with the skulls of small shrew-like mammals and an assortment of polished stones. The shape of the stones indicated that they were gizzard stones, most likely from a titanosaurian sauropod such as Alamosaurus.

Doctor Grant speculated that perhaps this had been some kind of ornamental nest, used by male Dromaeosaurus to attract females, in a way similar to that of the modern day bower bird. The male bower bird collects brightly coloured objects and places them in a mock nest known as a bower, which the female then inspects. If she is pleased with what she sees, she allows the male to mate with her. The more unusual the objects in the collection, the more likely the female is to be interested.

As he brushed the dirt off another stone, something caught Grant's eye. Something dark red lay beneath the sand. As he removed more sand from the mystery object, he realized something.

The object was rectangular, with perfect ninety degree angles.

Oh my God…

His stomach lurched uncomfortably as he realized what he was looking at.

"Hey, Doctor Grant!"

Grant was interrupted. He looked up, and saw a young female palaeontology student with short brown hair standing over him.

"What can I do for you, Miss van Tinteren?" he said, sliding the object out of view.

"Nothing much. There's just something I meant to ask you." She said.

"Okay. Shoot."

"How did we get the money to keep the site going?" she asked him.

"Well…" Grant began. The dig site's financial troubles were over. Thanks to Levine's ties in the US military, Grant's site had been awarded a healthy budget. Enough to sustain it for several more years. He thought of something, "…well, as you know I was asked to inspect that big theme park of BioSyn's, that then later turned out to be a hoax. As you may have heard on the news, there was a scandal that ended in a serious disaster, which sadly cost a lot of people their lives. After that, the United States government gave this site, and all the other people who suffered because of this disaster, a fair amount of money directly from BioSyn's funds, as compensation for what happened."

Miss van Tinteren gave the palaeontologist a strange look for a second, but then shrugged.

"Okay. Thanks." She said, and then walked over to her co-workers.

That was a relief.

Grant knew what the mysterious object was. It was the number plate from the jeep that he, Abby and Connor had taken back into the past.

At some point after their visit, a male Dromaeosaurus must have torn the plate off the car, and used it to decorate his bower. And judging by the hatchlings in the adjacent nest, the dinosaur's gimmick had worked.

Grant stared at the rusty piece of metal in his hand.

If anyone else found out about this, the consequences would be disastrous.

After making sure no-one was looking, Doctor Grant inconspicuously tossed the number plate down the hill, where it shattered on the rocks below.

It wasn't exactly the neatest scientific procedure, but it had to be done.

Sometimes the past is best forgotten.

XXXX

It was another hot day in San Diego.

11:37. Coffee break at the university.

Dr. Malcolm sat in his office, and fiddled with a pen he found on his desk. He had also poured himself a glass of water, which lay yet untouched on the table.

This had been one hell of a week.

Dinosaurs. An international conspiracy. Time travel. A John Hammond wannabe. A disaster waiting to happen, which ultimately it did.

Inevitably so. And all predicted by Chaos Theory.

"Ian, I've seen it all happen."

Helen Cutter. A rogue time traveller. Number one most wanted by the British government.

A madwoman. And seemingly unpredictable.

Her words echoed through Doctor Malcolm's head.

"You stood by me. You, like me, didn't want to cause irreversible extinctions."

What did she mean by that? Irreversible extinctions? Something had happened. Something of significant importance had happened at some point in time, most likely in the future, that inspired her – or scared her – to travel back to the present day to try and avert it.

But what was it?

Helen Cutter, for the short time Doctor Malcolm had known her, didn't seem like the kind of person who would easily be spooked, so whatever had happened to her, it was something serious.

And how was he involved in all of this?

"I've got more perspective than anyone else in the world. I have the key to time."

The key to time. The ability to visit any point in time, past, present or future, and become part of history.

Malcolm himself had travelled in time. He had been to the Late Cretaceous era, and seen long-lost moments in the Earth's history for himself. And yet his presence there did not seem to have had any discernable effect on the present.

It was remarkable. According to Chaos Theory, he should have come back to an entirely different world, because even the tiniest event should have had massive consequences further down the line.

There was only one way he could properly get his head around this. He needed to test it.

He eyed the glass of water on his desk.

Using one finger, he took a drop and placed it on the back of his left hand. The drop trickled down of the side of his hand and landed on the desk.

He took another drop from the glass, and repeated his last action.

A naïve person would assume the drop would go the same way as the last one, but in reality, there was more to it than that.

Malcolm placed the second drop in the exact same spot where he had put the first one. Due to a tiny difference in tension between the hairs on his hand, the drop changed course very slightly. Exactly as predicted.

He tried a third drop.

Another small difference.

"This… what happens here, will be a blip on the radar of geological time if what I'm doing works."

A blip on the radar.

A blip.

A drop!

Malcolm froze.

Why hadn't he thought of that!

He took a fourth drop from the glass. But instead of placing it on his hand, he let it fall back into the glass.

Simulating travelling backwards in time.

The drop landed on the water's surface. As expected, it produced a series of ripples. But within seconds, the ripples had died down, and the surface was still again, as if nothing had happened.

Of course!

If the change to the original timeline was small enough, then perhaps it was possible to travel to the distant past without changing the future.

Oh, Ian, you and your chaos theories…

XXXX

Danny raised his Glock at the steel door. He held his thumb on the safety, ready to push it down and fire.

Danny shouted at the top of his voice, "You have ten seconds to open this door, or I'm kicking it down!"

Quinn started the countdown.

"Ten!"

"Nine!"

He heard some sort of odd scratching sound just on the other side of the door. Then a snuffling sound. It was almost as if his quarry weren't actually human.

He noticed he'd missed a second. "Eight!" Then, not quite a second after that, "Seven!" He'd lost the rhythm.

"Six!"

"Five!" He was back on track.

"Four!"

He heard nothing but silence beyond the steel door now. What had he heard earlier? Was his mind playing tricks on him? "Three!" Was he just seeing animal enemies everywhere now, thanks to the Miami disaster?

"Two…" He heard a shotgun click.

The door crashed to the floor. A heavy-set man, maybe five eleven and at least fourteen stone, and dressed all in black, including a balaclava, stepped through and swung the shotgun barrel across Quinn's face. Danny was thrown to the ground. His pistol was tossed into the darkness between street-lamps. He felt a sharp, almost unbearable pain across his chest. The psittaco scars. They'd been stitched up well by a surgeon in Orlando, but they were still healing. He'd been assigned several weeks of rest. Meanwhile, the ARC had let him off free this time. But just this time.

He pushed up and used the pain as a source of strength. With a grunt, he headbutted the balaclava man in his bulging stomach, and grabbed hold of the shotgun with his right hand. He pulled the barrel towards himself, stretching the balacava'd man's right arm around. In the same motion, Danny swung a left hook into the man's cheek, but couldn't put much force into it.

Balaclava right-elbowed Quinn in the face, hard. As Quinn has knocked backwards, his grip on the shotgun loosened. Within half a second, he found it breaking across his face a second time. He regained his footing, and leaned up against the wall. The throbbing in his torso was now constant. Its regular pulsing acted like a metronome. In time with a beat, Danny kicked out and struck the aggressor between the legs. Balaclava grunted and stepped back. Danny pushed his advantage. He kicked again, this time knocking the shotgun out of the opponent's hand. It flew through the air, eventually landing on the concrete. Balaclava ran to regain it. Danny raced after him. Quinn simultaneously rammed into the man's side, and jammed one foot in front of Balaclava's stride. The criminal fell, but kept reaching for the gun. It was just three feet from the grip.

Danny stepped on Balaclava's hand. He let out a cry of pain, and Quinn swiped the shotgun. The ex-cop held it towards the criminal. "Not one more inch."

Balaclava grabbed hold of Quinn's ankle and pulled him flat to the ground. His chest pain was excruciating now. Quinn managed to keep hold of the weapon, and rammed it into Balaclava's neck. With as much force as he could muster, he pushed it into where he guessed the Adam's apple was – what with the folds of Balaclava's skin, it was pretty impossible to tell for sure – until Balaclava withdrew, choking and spluttering. Danny stood back up. This time, he stood a good five feet back. Then he cocked the gun, and held it towards Balaclava. "Anything else?

The alarm clock rang.

Opening his eyes, and looking around his bedroom, Danny realised it had all been a dream.

Danny Quinn had good dreams now.

XXXX

Sarah scratched another piece of dirt off the surface of the Artefact. She had the feeling that she was finally getting somewhere. There looked to be some sort of inscription on the surface. It was only partly visible yet, but she'd already made considerable progress in the past day alone.

If nothing else, Sarah was glad to be back in her element. For the time being at least, she would content herself at her workstation.

XXXX

"Of course Mister President. Yes, and you two. OK. Goodbye."

The President hung up, leaving Lester and Becker alone in silence. Both men were back in Lester's office. Becker was standing in front of the door, Lester sitting behind his desk. Becker hadn't mentioned a word during the lengthy phone-call, which hadn't been on speakerphone, in any case.

Several of the ARC's usual personnel were elsewhere: Abby was in Alaska, all of the surviving soldiers had been given the day off – Becker had stayed behind for an hour to have a final discussion with Lester – and Jenny had taken the day off herself.

Lester filled Becker in on the state of events. "From what the President tells me, the Army and Homeland Security are making excellent progress gathering the remaining animals. Most of the carnivores have been found, and rehabilitated in a secure facility. Inevitably, some of the smaller animals may escape the net."

Becker asked, "What if the public discover the remaining animals?"

"We were discussing the possibility of a cover-up operation. Perhaps a rehabilitation front. Some sort of RSPCA organisation."

"The James Lester Animal Foundation?" Becker suggested.

"Something like that." Lester's face remained straight. "And another thing: the post-mortem examination on the Jane Doe corpse is complete. The DNA result is conclusive. It's Helen's body."

A charred corpse, marked out as 'Jane Doe', was discovered by the US forces amongst the bombed wreckage of Land of Time. The only other corpses found there were of Helen's mindless Cleaner clones.

"What does that mean?" Becker asked.

"If Connor's testimony is to be believed, then Helen was alive and well long after the bombing of the park. Clearly Helen replicated herself, and then sent her own clone into the bomb site, in the hope that when her body was discovered and analysed, we would believe she was dead. She hadn't counted on Connor surviving their encounter."

"Of course."

There was silence for a minute. The general atmosphere gave the sense that both men were tired of the whole incident, of the speculation, the history, and Helen Cutter.

Lester had just one more thing to say on the matter. "Helen told Connor her motivation. Her reasoning. Something along the lines of: 'to save the world'. Correct?"

Becker replied, "From what I heard, yes. I think she said BioSyn technology was used in some… experiments. She wanted to eliminate BioSyn, and stop the experiments."

Lester sat back in his chair. "Well if she's right, and it's worked, at least some good has come of this."

XXXX

Charlotte Davis, agent of Christine Johnson, pulled herself up onto the ladder that led out of the sewer. She looked towards the manhole above. If her maps were accurate, then this would lead out onto the plaza of the park, or somewhere nearby.

She climbed the ladder and lifted the manhole cover. She raised her eyes to ground level.

There it was. Right in front of her was the management complex of the park. The once majestic glass panes were shattered and broken on the concrete in front of the building.

She climbed out of the sewer, and crouched on the ground. She closed the manhole behind herself, and stood up. The light was fading. She checked her watch. It was 5:39 on Wednesday evening. The park was probably crawling with creatures by now. She would have to move swiftly.

Dressed all in black, she nimbly raced, almost on her tip-toes, up to the complex, and jumped inside, avoiding crunching down on the glass fragments. She'd made barely a sound, and in the darkened interior, her black clothes would not show up well. But she knew that sight and sound were not the only senses the park's menagerie could claim.

Davis raced into a side-corridor, and made for the park laboratories. She knew that most of the BioSyn technology was at the facility. She would go there next, if it wasn't already destroyed. For now, she'd check out the research housed at the park itself.

Davis reached the first lab. Her black gloves tightly fitted, she trawled the cabinets, drawers and shelves for documents, files, lists, anything she could fit into her backpack. Once that was finished, she took out her camera, and photographed anything she couldn't fit into the bag. Then she left the lab, closed the door behind herself, and repeated the process in the next lab, then the one after.

When she was finished, her backpack was almost ripping at the seams, and her camera nearly out of memory. She repositioned the pack more comfortably, and made for the exit of the complex.

As she emerged in the lobby, she found herself confronted by an unexpected figure. Helen Cutter.

Davis froze. Cutter was similarly dressed all in black, and she was facing away from Davis. Perhaps she hadn't noticed Charlotte's presence?

Then Cutter turned towards the agent. Her face was oddly expressionless. As Cutter faced Davis, she seemed to take notice of the agent, but only for the briefest of moments. Then Cutter looked beyond Davis, and started walking in her direction.

Davis drew her light pistol and aimed it towards Cutter defensively. Sternly, she warned, "Don't come any closer!" Cutter took no notice, and simply brushed past Davis and continued walking into the complex. Davis watched her walk away, and disappear around the next corner. Davis was relieved, but also very confused.

Davis made her way back out onto the plaza, where she heard a distant buzzing sound. It sounded like the far-off roar of an aircraft engine. Davis looked up and saw a plane, high in the sky, flying towards her.

Army, she thought. She hastened her exit. As she approached the manhole, she checked her watch. 5:54. All done in fifteen minutes.

The plane engine was getting louder, and closer. Davis looked up to see it was only about half a mile away from her now. Then she saw something fall from its underside.

A bomb.

As she heard the sound of the explosion, she was already lifting the manhole cover. She backed onto the ladder.

A second explosion. Closer. It shook the ground, and she was almost shaken from the ladder.

Quickly, she reached up for the manhole cover. She looked back for just a moment.

A burst of flames erupted in the nearby foliage, accompanied by a horrific shockwave. The plane was almost overhead now.

She lowered the cover, and jumped down into the sewer waters.

"Interesting… very interesting…"

Johnson was thumbing through the BioSyn documents in her office, in her newly-repaired headquarters. She was sat behind her desk, and Davis was standing to attention in front of her. The new desk was unadorned except for a single ornament, an ancient Roman helmet Christine had recently acquired.

"You've done very well Agent Davis. Even in spite of your inability to get to the facility before its destruction. That was rather unfortunate."

"Sorry Ma'am."

"No matter." Christine put the documents down on her desk. "Dismissed."

Davis left the office, and Christine was left alone. This research would be invaluable for Christine's plans. One could even say that they opened up whole new possibilities.

XXXX

And so it was that Connor's adventure ended back at his workstation at the anomaly console. He'd put Sid and Nancy to bed a few minutes earlier. He was now back to work on the locker. He was checking the mechanics and connections one last time to make sure everything was in perfect working order.

The ARC was quite empty. Several of the technicians, including Nigel, had been given the day off. Most of the soldiers – including Briggs, Rogers, Hawkins and Doody – were at home too. Connor had been offered a day off work too, but he'd insisted on staying at the ARC. Hopefully, the management had not yet figured out that someone was occupying the dorm-room full-time.

Connor decided to take a breather for a second, and sat down at the chair in front of the ADD. Rotating reticules hovered over the aerial view of the city. All was silent again. The film-set anomaly was locked in place, and a perimeter established around it. The production company had been politely asked to relocate their set.

The final repairs to the ARC had now been completed. Still, a yellow plastic-tape perimeter had been erected around a blank stretch of wall. That was the position Lester had chosen for the memorial plaque, dedicated to the ARC personnel who had perished in the BioSyn disaster. Captain Jake Hemple's name was to be at the top, followed by Lieutenants Lucas Redfern, Samuel Mason, Vernon Murdoch, Michael Garney and Owen Clarke, followed by about a dozen other soldiers' names.

A copy of News of the World lay on the counter to Connor's left. He picked it up and leafed through. Opposite an article involving some financial scandal and the president of Dregovia, Connor found an article detailing the bankruptcy of BioSyn. Its shareholders had all pulled out. Rumour had it that the issue of leadership had descended into vicious and spiteful infighting. In any case, the corporation was now due to be disbanded following a government order.

"Mister Temple!" Connor looked up to see one of the newer technicians, called Andrew, approaching him at a quick pace.

"Yeah?" Connor replied, putting the newspaper away and standing off the chair. He noticed that the technician was holding a slightly charred piece of paper in his hands.

"This was found by the workmen in Professor Cutter's office," Andrew explained. He came to a stop once he was beside Connor, and looked over the sheet. "It's a set of DNA test results. It was originally stapled to some other sheets, but they were destroyed. It's hard to tell without the full picture, but it seems to be relating to the dead raptor a few weeks ago."

Connor remembered that anomaly. One of his last missions with Cutter. He recalled that Cutter had sent a skin sample through to the lab to get it tested. Something had been different about it. The way it acted. And its appearance. It had…

…It had no feathers.

And as Andrew handed over the sheet and returned to his own workstation, Connor remembered something else too. Back in that BioSyn facility, when he, Abby and Doctor Grant were trying to lure the tyrannosaur back to its own time, something else had gone through the anomaly.

At that moment, five featherless raptors ran from their corridor, and raced straight past Connor. They ran down towards the anomaly, and went through.

Five featherless raptors.

He'd forgotten all about them in the ensuing madness.

And as if to prove his point, the lab sheet gave the following results:

86% Dromaeosaur

12% African Reed Frog

2% Chicken

According to the Jurassic Park rumours, and verified by Doctor Grant, InGen had used frog DNA to fill in the genetic gaps of their dinosaurs.

Connor grinned in spite of himself. InGen's raptors had actually made it into the past, the end of the Cretaceous, and on their way to encountering him and Cutter in the present. Or perhaps they'd even bred, and he'd encountered some second or third generation raptor. Connor had actually had a minor effect on evolutionary history. Like he'd made his mark.

It was a few minutes later, after Connor had resumed work on the locker, that he remembered something else. Rossiter had told them all that the InGen dinosaurs had been infected by a prion disease called DX. Later, Becker had told them that one of the facility's functions had been to find a remedy for DX, and cure the creatures which had been rescued. There were dozens of DX-infected creatures locked in cages in the facility. Including raptors.

Connor started to panic. Could it be that he'd let DX-infected creatures into the past? And could they then have passed it on? He frantically searched out the lab results, hoping for something that would prove that the raptor was clean. But there was nothing on that sheet. The answer Connor was looking for must have been destroyed in the catastrophic explosion.

Connor tried to calm himself down. They'd probably carried dozens of pathogens into the past before, and nothing noticeable had gone wrong those times. This time would obviously be no different.

I mean, what was the worst thing that could have happened?

THE END

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Dangerous Abodes

The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser people so full of doubts. – Bertrand Russell

Vincent Scott led Amy McCoy and Gary Campbell to a small warehouse on the southern side of the city. This was the site of his plan for the future predators.

He led the way inside. He'd visited this warehouse several times before, to outfit it for the predators. He approached the huge sliding door. It was closed by a chain and silver padlock. Scott took out a key, undid the lock, and put it, the key and the chain away.

Scott took hold of the handle. "Gary, could you help me with this?"

Campbell took a hold of the same handle, as did McCoy without having been asked. Together, they pulled it open. It was complete darkness within the warehouse. Scott walked inside and turned on the light-switch. It lit up the small, empty entry room. Scott led the other two to another door, which he opened and stepped past.

"Whoah…" Campbell said upon entering the corridor on the other side. "So this is your plan?"

"Basically, yeah," Scott replied.

Before them was a long corridor, with white-painted walls and ceiling. The corridor was fairly unremarkable, save for the single door at the end. Oh, and the blocks of C4 explosive attached to both walls along its entire length. The blocks were attached to each other by insulated wiring than ran down to the other end, and through the wall into the next room.

"Where'd you get all this stuff?" Campbell asked.

"The facility," Scott answered. It was quite refreshing being able to be honest.

"You're going to blow them up?" McCoy asked. "How is that going to work, exactly?"

"Follow me," Scott replied. He led them down the corridor and through the door. They were slightly more reluctant than him to go down this passage, but eventually quickened their step just to get past it.

The next room was a small hall, big enough to fit about twenty future predators by Scott's calculations. It had more room than they needed, anyway. The walls were once again lined with C4 all around, and so were the ceiling and the floor. In the centre of the room was a large device, fitted with a pump. It was connected to a chimney which led up into the ceiling. C4 was also attached to the device, and the inside and outside of the chimney.

"This," he pointed it out, "releases a certain pheromone. According to research in the facility, the megamyotids find this pheromone impossible to resist. Like catnip, only more potent. They'd theorised that it might be emitted by the females when in heat, although that wouldn't explain why it attracts other females. When I turn this on, the pheromone will be pumped up, through this chimney, and out into the air. The megamyotids have quite an acute sense of smell, so if they're anywhere near the chimney, they should come straight here. And then, boom."

"Where's the trigger?" McCoy asked.

"In my pocket," Scott replied, pulling out a small gauge lever. "It's not connected up yet though."

"This is crazy…" Campbell said. "You did all this before the park was opened?"

"Yeah," Scott replied.

"Why?"

"Because I could see this coming," Scott replied with a weak smile.

"Don't…" Campbell said, shaking his head. Then he sighed and looked to his feet. "This is insane. You could kill someone."

"People are already dying," Scott said. "If even one of those megamyotids were killed off, it could potentially save thousands of lives. And this is the only realistic way of killing them all in one fell swoop, thereby eliminating the threat."

Scott waited for an answer. Campbell obviously still wasn't sure, because none was forthcoming.

"You want to leave this to the army?" Scott asked. "What are they gonna do? Bomb the city? All we'll end up with is a few surviving predators and a whole lot more blood on our hands."

"OK, enough debating," McCoy interjected. "We're wasting time. Let's just do this."

"Right!" Scott said. "There's something else you two need to see."

There was another door in this room. This one was locked, and Scott used his key on it. It led out to another corridor – this one unarmed with C4. It led down to another locked door, which required a different key, which led into a very small room. On the floor, was a trio of walkie-talkies. Scott picked them up.

"Didn't know whether I'd be with anyone else," Scott told them, "so just in case, I got a few." He handed them to Campbell and McCoy, who turned them on and checked their working order. "I'm gonna connect this lead up now," he told them, "and then it's go time."

XXXX

Doctor Malcolm woke up in a comfortable, cushioned seat. He had a splitting headache, resulting from a combination of sleeplessness and, you know, getting hit in the back of his skull. He opened his eyes. He was sitting in the hold of a plane. Beside him was another seat, with another figure sitting in it. Richard Levine. He was still asleep.

They were definitely stationary for now. The door was closed, but through the window, Malcolm could see that it was the dead of night. Malcolm looked around, and there was no one else here. There were no other seats either. These two had seemingly been fixed on recently. Malcolm tried to take off his seatbelt, when he realised that it wasn't a seatbelt. It was a restraint, accompanied with restraints around his ankles. They were all made of ropes.

Levine woke up slowly. He cleared his throat. He raised his arms, and noticed the restraints. He looked around. "Where are we?" he asked. "Have we been rescued?"

"I don't think so…" Malcolm replied.

The door slid open, and inside stepped a burly man in camouflage outfit, carrying an assault rifle. He had grey hair, and a wrinkled face. He was very tall, and had to bend his neck slightly to stand inside the cabin. He walked over to Malcolm and Levine, and kneeled down to reach their level. "Good evening. I'm… how about you call me Hudson? I'm here to speak on the behalf of my employer, Helen Cutter."

"What, she has mercenaries now?" Malcolm asked.

"She needed someone to deal with our invasion," Levine helpfully suggested.

"That she did," Hudson confirmed. "That, and her final plan."

"What would that be?" Malcolm inquired.

"Let's just say that it involves aerial bombing, and Miami," Hudson answered.

"She wants to destroy the city?" Levine asked.

"Well, not quite. Just the quarter of it that surrounds the facility." He seemed rather nonchalant about this whole idea.

Malcolm realised that he recognised that voice from somewhere. He couldn't quite put his finger on it… "Wait…we've met before! You were that guy who kidnapped me!"

"I was only following orders," he said with a smile.

"And you're just going to follow her orders again, and blow up the city?" Malcolm asked.

"It's not my concern. And I'm not the guy who's dropping the bombs, so my conscience is clear."

"Oh, how nice for you," Malcolm said.

"Why are we here?" Levine asked.

"Because Helen wants to save you. This is the only plane we have left. It's the one that's going to drop the bombs. Helen insisted that you two were extracted from Miami, and escorted away from the city on the only plane. The rest of us mercenaries were to take the slower helicopters. Well, except a couple of guards to make sure you two don't get into any trouble."

"But why would Helen care about our safety?" Levine asked.

"Yeah, I mean, she didn't care enough to save us during the power-cut," Malcolm pointed out.

"She was originally going to send us in, but we got sidetracked. Eventually, she went in herself, and found you."

"But why does Helen care at all?" Levine repeated.

"She said something about you two being important. Worth saving. Something along the lines of… what was it… your future selves standing up to some experiments. I remember the name Johnson."

"That was helpful, really." Malcolm felt as if he was hitting a brick wall with this woman's unwanted attentions.

"Anyway, I really have to go," Hudson told them. He got up and out of the plane.

Once the door closed, Levine gave a sort of annoying, forced chuckle that was just asking for attention.

"What is it?" Malcolm begrudgingly asked. He didn't care enough about the answer to turn and face him.

"They've made a mistake. The same mistake everyone's always made with me."

Malcolm decided to turn around for this. "And what mistake would that be?"

"They underestimate me!" Levine grinned from ear to ear.

XXXX

"Three… two… one!"

On his own cue, Scott slowly and carefully depressed the lever on the device. A pump started up, and soon he could hear a gush of air rushing up the chimney. It brought with it the megamyotid catnip.

His plan was now in action.

"OK!" he shouted. "Everybody out!"

He, Campbell and McCoy hurried out of the room, leaving the door open, and ran down the corridor. They ran out into the night, and hurried around the side of the building. It was around here that the trigger was located. Scott kneeled to the ground beside it, and got ready for the megamyotids' arrival.

"Dammit…" McCoy muttered. "I left my walkie back in that far room."

"It doesn't matter," Campbell insisted. "We're all together now."

"Yeah, but we might not be in a couple hours' time," McCoy rebuffed. "And hey, they're not going to be here that soon."

"Um…" Campbell turned to Scott. "Might they?"

"I don't know," Scott replied. "Maybe."

"Don't worry, I'll run," McCoy assured him with a smile.

"Wait", Scott called. He took out a couple of keys. "I locked the room. And remember to lock everything on your way out."

She took them from his hand. "Sure thing." She sprinted off, back into the building.

"You could have stopped her going!" Campbell whispered to him. Scott ignored him.

…

McCoy rushed to the far room, where Scott had first shown them the walkies. She still didn't know how much she trusted him. He'd prepared all this, and failed to tell them any of it until now. Had he been planning something else?

She came into the far room, and found her walkie on the floor. At the very moment she picked it up, it crackled into life. "Amy!" It was Gary's voice.

"What's wrong?" she answered.

"Tell me you're in that room, yeah?" he begged.

"Yes, why?" She was starting to get worried.

"Lock the door. Quickly!"

She did as she was told. Then she turned back to the walkie. "Why?" she asked.

"The megamyotids are already inside," he explained. "Stay in there, and you should be safe."

Another voice came onto the walkie, from further away. It was Scott. "And brace yourself!"

She quickly dropped the walkie and lowered to the floor, waiting to hear the C4 blast.

It never happened.

She started to hear the sounds of megamyotids outside the door, down that corridor. She spoke to Gary. "What happened?"

"Wait a second…" called Scott. "Dammit!" It mustn't be wired properly…"

"Then what are we gonna do!" shouted Gary.

"Gimme a second, I can work this out…"

McCoy waited on tenterhooks for sounds to come out of the walkie. The noises and cackles of the future-predators grew louder. All that was protecting her now was the locked door.

"Damn!" It was Scott's voice. "Compies chewed straight through the wire!"

"Amy, wait there!" ordered Gary. "I'm coming…"

"No, don't!" Amy told him. "I'll be fine. The door's going to hold."

"GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR!" shouted Scott.

Amy dodged to the side. In the process, she dropped her walkie.

Nothing. Silence.

A matter of seconds later, a pair of tusk-like horns pierced straight through the iron door, and sent it off its hinges. They were followed by the rest of the Triceratops, and clambering over it, three megamyotids. The herbivore was being tormented by them, picking at its eyes and ears. Two of them turned to Amy.

"Amy, are you OK?" shouted Gary over the walkie. It was now on the other side of the megamyotids. "Stay there…"

The megamyotids cackled at her, and salivated.

The Triceratops was now stopped, and waving its head about in frustration. The door was still impaled on its horns. The dinosaur gave a surprise tail-swipe, and sent one of the predators flying. Another backed away, fearing the same treatment.

Amy took her chance, and attempted to get around the ceratopsian. It was grunting, snorting, trying to get the demon bats off. Amy had to just jump over its tail, and land in the corridor, ready to run.

After a short running start, she jumped off the ground, stretching her leg out towards the corridor.

A megamyotid launched from the passage, and ploughed into her. She was cast to the floor on the other side of the herbivore, just beside the walkie.

The toothy, horrible-faced megamyotid stood over her, and raised its claw.

…

Scott and Campbell sprinted down the C4-laden corridor towards McCoy. The door at the end was shut, but not locked, and crumpled somewhat by some one of the creatures inside. Campbell dropped his walkie to the floor, grabbed onto the door-handle, and tried to open it.

It wouldn't budge.

The door was so misshapen now, that it didn't quite fit through the doorway.

Campbell thumped the door. "Help me, dammit!"

Scott took a running kick to the door. He made no dent whatsoever. He tried heaving the door open in the same direction as Campbell.

They heard the sounds of Triceratops and megamyotid over the walkie.

"No, come on, heave!" Campbell shouted.

They gave one almighty push.

It budged a little.

Hope emerged at last, and it strengthened their resolve. They pressed ever more on the barrier.

More cackles from the walkie taunted their agonizingly slow progress.

"Ah!" came a squeal from Amy through the walkie.

"NO!" Campbell cried. "COME ON YOU BASTARD, HEAVE!"

They kept pushing.

All their strength went in. Thoughts emptied from their heads. All that they knew was that one singular aim, to rescue one of their own.

"HEAVE!" he cried, now through gritted teeth.

Shrieks from the walkie.

"NO!"

Screams and rattle-cackles.

"COME ON!"

The screams filled the corridor.

"NO!"

The screams ceased at a horribly unnatural end.

Campbell was still pushing. Scott lessened his pressure. Campbell must have felt it. "Come on!" His tone was somewhat more desperate now. "Come ON!" He pushed backwards off the door and swung at Scott's face. The impact sent Scott backwards onto the wall, a block of C4 sticking into his back. Campbell's arm fell to the floor, and the rest of him collapsed in a heap.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

The Tyrant Lizard Queen

…

It's easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission. – Grace Hopper

…

Douglas Ketterman found himself back at the entrance to the facility. After evacuating with everyone else around three hours earlier, he'd dodged creatures all over the city and the surrounding swamp. He'd snatched a torch from a broken-into shop, and now, he was back here, hoping that someone else had come back too. At this point, he'd be more than willing to surrender to Becker and his men if it ensured his safety. Maybe he might even be able to escape back to London through the anomaly in the facility, if all else failed.

He found the door lying off its hinges on the street. Using the torch, he could see papers, maps and scans tossed to the floor inside. But all was completely silent.

Ketterman cautiously stepped over the broken glass and into the facility. Each footstep was accompanied by a glassy crunch. As he went deeper, he caught scent of some strange, musty smell. He put it down to the creatures in their holding pens, which he could now hear howling and banging against their cages.

He stepped inside the room he'd once been tied up in. The chair was in pieces, and the notes and papers were torn and ripped.

Ketterman saw something attached to the wall that led out of this room. He walked up and inspected it.

It was a block of C4, fixed in place. It was attached to another block, further along, by a wire with an iron cover over it. The next block was similarly attached to another, and this continued all the way through the corridor. Ketterman could see the same thing on the other wall.

The whole place was rigged to blow.

XXXX

"Danny, where are you?" Connor had discarded with the faux walkie speak. Fortunately for them all, he'd lent the walkie to Grant before being kidnapped, so they could still contact Danny.

The group of Connor, Abby, Grant and the two Charlie Squad soldiers were making their way around the city, weapons held high. The Squad soldiers' orders were to take the three civilians back to the military base, which was south-west of the city. The mission to find Jenny was still on, although they had no way of locating her. Unless Danny already had.

A voice came through on the other side of the walkie. Miraculously, it was Jenny's. "Connor? Where are you?" This was the first time they'd spoken since the attack on the management complex.

"Jenny!" Connor exclaimed. "I'm with Abby and Doctor Grant, and a couple of soldiers. Why do you have Danny's walkie?"

"Danny's unconscious, we need to get him to a hospital. We're heading to the facility."

"Alright, we'll meet up with you. Where are you now?"

…

It was on swampland, just outside the city of Miami, that the ARC team – Connor, Abby, Jenny, Hemple, Becker and Sarah – were finally reunited. Professors Skinner and Harper were leading the group back to the facility, for the twin purposes of saving Danny, and rescuing Doctor Malcolm. They could have brought Danny to a hospital straight away, but Harper was confident that his medical experience could see Danny through as long as they got back to the facility ward. The Charlie Squad soldiers decided to use this opportunity to scout out this facility.

As the group trekked towards the facility together, Connor asked Jenny about whether she had been kidnapped.

"Yes," she replied. "I was nearly killed by some weird, tiny dinosaurs. I don't know what I would have done if Hemple hadn't been walking past."

Hemple noticed his name being said, turning around to them briefly. Then, with Danny still over his shoulder, he drew closer to their conversation.

"So was I," Becker said. "Whoever did it, they must have got pretty close to the US base. That's where we were."

"It was Helen," Connor told them. "She kidnapped me and Abby too. I got speaking to her. She said that she wanted to kill us because we're going to cause something in the future. Well, I think she meant the ARC was, and seeing as we're important in the ARC, she thought she could stop this bad thing by eliminating us."

"Did she say anything about me?" Hemple asked.

"No," Connor replied. "Why, were you kidnapped?"

"No, I wasn't," Hemple said. He looked to the ground, and stopped walking.

"You want a hand with Quinn?" Becker asked.

"No," Hemple answered quickly, and hastily repositioned Danny's body and continued onwards.

"Oh, by the way." Briggs approached Danny's body and took out a pistol. "Here's your Glock back." He placed the gun in Danny's pocket. "You left it behind in London."

Hemple looked as if he was about to take the firearm back off the dangerously hallucinating man, when he was stopped by the magnificent view.

They had reached the top of a rise, overlooking the city of Miami. The sky had cleared to show the stars and the moon. Smoke rose from the buildings, and they could see a few helicopters flying over the roofs. But there were no longer any sounds of creatures.

"There's the facility," Harper told them, pointing to a concrete, flat-roofed building at the very edge of the city.

A deafening roar came from behind them.

Everyone scattered as a Maiasaur ran past them, and down the hillside towards the city. Just behind it, the huge female T-Rex was giving chase, and continued past it. Once it had passed, everyone regrouped.

"It's going back to the city!" Rogers shouted.

"The army can take care of it," Becker told him. "Let's just get to this facility."

Connor had an idea. As Becker led the group down the hill, he took Abby and Doctor Grant to the side. "You remember that idea we had about luring the Rex with a piece of meat?"

Abby gave him a confused look. "Yeah, why?"

Connor recounted his idea. "There are anomalies in that facility. That includes the anomaly that tyrannosaur came through. If we could lead her back with a chunk of meat, then she would be gone, and safe, and so would everyone else. The army failed to stop her before, something tells me they might fail this time."

"It's a big risk," Grant pointed out.

Below them, a massive explosion lit up the sky and cast a detached wheel straight over their heads.

"Come on," Connor ordered.

…

They snuck off from the rest of the group, as the others might have been against the idea. They took a slab of beef from a broken-into butcher shop, and tied a length of rope around it. They then found a black Range Rover. It had been rather hastily abandoned, judging by the fact that the key was still in the ignition, and that the door was lying open. It was undamaged by the creatures. Grant got in the driver's seat, while Abby hung the meat just out of the opened hatchback. Connor got in the passenger seat, and lowered the window. Then they set off in search of the tyrannosaur.

Not long after they'd got moving, Connor's walkie crackled into life.

Jenny's voice, with more than a hint of serious concern, came through. "Connor, where the hell are you?"

"It's OK Jenny, I'm with Abby and Doctor Grant," Connor reassured her. Grant turned around a corner, and they arrived right in front of the T-rex, which was about to take on the Maiasaur. "We'll meet at the facility, yeah? Sorry Jenny, gotta go!" Connor switched the walkie off. The T-rex turned to the jeep and sniffed the air. Obviously smelling the beef, she decided that the car would be an easier target. Just as helicopters were arriving on the scene, she charged straight for them. Grant reversed sharply and span the jeep around. The walkie fell out of Connor's hand, flew through the open window, and landed onto the concrete outside. Grant didn't notice, and powered forward, back the way they'd come.

"Give me a warning next time!" Abby called from the back.

"Sorry about that!" Grant replied. He swerved around the next corner and down the road. "I hope one of you can tell me where the facility is from here."

"Yeah, it should be just down here," Connor determined from the last and only time they'd seen it, from up on the hilltop.

Connor looked in the wing mirror. The T-rex was right behind them. Behind her were two helicopters, both with shooters leaning out the side. They poured machine-gun fire down at the reptile. The bullets that did hit home seemed to cause only minor irritation.

Then, one hit her in the eye. She swiped her skull right around and knocked one copter straight out of the sky. Then she reached up to the second one. It repositioned, and started flying upwards, away from her grasp. She reared up and grabbed it by its tail. She dragged it downwards and then threw it into a nearby building. Then she re-focused on the jeep. She soon caught up again, and took a lunge at the meat, which was dragging along the ground. Abby drew the rope back, and the rex missed.

"I think we're here!" Grant called. Connor looked forward to see the same concrete building right in front of them. "There's no vehicle entrance…"

"Try behind!" Connor said, pointing towards the car-park. Grant pulled around the corner and into the lot, and swerved towards the wide vehicle entrance. The gate was down.

"Brace yourselves!" Grant shouted. He floored the throttle and went straight through the barrier. The Rex followed.

They drove down the concrete and turned a corner to find themselves amongst several pens and cages of creatures. They turned again and drove down the next corridor, and found themselves seemingly at a dead end. Here, there was a computer console, and at the very end of a side-corridor, a device attached to the ceiling that looked very much like Connor's anomaly locking device. It was pointing into thin air.

"I think this is the anomaly room," Connor said as Grant skidded to a halt. "I'll get out and turn it on, you two distract the rex!" Connor didn't wait for an answer. He jumped out and headed straight for the console. Grant reversed out the way they'd come. Connor sat down on the chair, and got ready to go.

…

Grant reversed out the corridor, and Abby was thrown violently backwards. The tyrannosaur hadn't caught up yet, so they reached the holding pens again without obstruction. Now, they saw where she'd got to. The rex was thrashing around amongst the cages, unable to properly move with the comparatively low ceiling.

She caught sight of them and roared out. She then charged towards them.

A man ran out from another corridor, waving his hands in the air at them. He started shouting. "Get out of here! Get out now!" He was a tall man with black hair and untrimmed stubble.

Grant reverse-turned into the next area of holding-pens. The Rex followed and lunged at them, gripping down on the bonnet. As her teeth pierced the metal and crushed the engine, smoke started to rise, and the vehicle cut out and died.

Grant got out of the driver's seat and ran from the jaws. The T-rex noticed, and lifted her head back into the air. She stepped on top of the bonnet, causing the front tyres to burst, and moved around the car. Abby jumped out of the back, and ran with Grant through the many pens. Hyaenodonts and raptors growled and hissed at them as they went past. The Rex landed off the car, and as she did so, her tail whipped out and smashed one of the cage doors.

…

Connor brought his fingers to his temple. He thought.

His recent insecurities were gone. He hadn't actually caused the power-cut himself, Helen had proven that. And while that was something of a load off his shoulders, it didn't cover the fact that he had nonetheless been a part of it. If he hadn't disabled Rossiter's hold on the system, Helen would never have been able to cut the power. How could he not have seen that it had been way too easy to break in? It should have been clear that it was a trap. He breathed in. This wasn't helping anything. It was time for him to prove himself again. Helen may have wanted him to break into that computer, but she sure as hell didn't want him to break into this one, if she'd tried to kill him before he could. It was time to take revenge. He looked at the keyboard in front of him, and got to work.

He entered into the console, and had a look around. The information on the screen confirmed his suspicion that this controlled the anomalies. He just had to find the right one, open it, and that was that.

As luck would have it, the console seemingly hadn't been properly turned off last time it had been used. The password was already accepted, and as far as the computer was concerned, Connor was Professor Skinner.

Connor looked through the list of anomalies. There must have been at least thirty listed here, each with its own individual code, and no other defining characteristics. Connor had to work this out himself.

The codes included: 'OP266SP420'; 'OP266PlP1'; 'OP266MF20'; 'OP266PP250'; 'OP266PlP003'.

Each code began with 'OP266' so that might have been some kind of password for personnel. He disregarded that. Each code then had a sequence of two of three letters, followed by one, two or three numbers. The last letter was always either 'P' or 'F'. There were far more Ps than Fs. Maybe that meant Past or Future. The letter before it might stand for the particular era or epoch that each anomaly linked to. So, for example, P could be Permian, for the Gorgonopsids, while Pl could be Pleistocene for the mammoths and sabre-tooths. Whenever there were three letters in sequence, the middle letter was always lower-case, so that could be to distinguish it from another epoch or era. If that bit stood for the time-zone, then the numbers were easy – that was the number of million years ago, or forward, that the anomaly linked to. The Permian code ended in '250' – two hundred and fifty million years ago. The 'SP' code ended in '420' – probably the Silurian scorpions' home time. There were two Pleistocene codes. The first ended in one, and the other in zero-zero-three. The '003' could stand for 0.03 million years ago, or 30,000 years ago. That could be for the mammoths. Then the one-million-years-ago code could be for the sabre-tooths.

Connor now knew what he was looking for. He searched for one ending in '65'.

'OP266KP65'.

'K' was often used for Cretaceous to distinguish it from Carboniferous, which made sense here, what with the Arthropleurids.

Connor selected that code, and entered it.

A familiar sound, and the smattering of light and shards appeared at the end of the corridor.

"GET IN!" Connor shouted, and punched the air. Then he whistled for the others. "Abby! Doctor Grant! It's ready!"

At that moment, five featherless raptors ran from their corridor, and raced straight past Connor. They ran down towards the anomaly, and went through.

Connor didn't have much time to consider this. The jeep skidded down the corridor and into the hub. The bonnet bore tooth-holes, and the engine was smoking through the gaps. The two front tyres were completely flat, and barely staying on their wheels. Grant drove the jeep toward the anomaly, with Abby still sitting in the back, and the hatchback still open. She saw Connor and shouted to him. "Get out of the way!"

He moved around to the side of the console, and prepared to get down.

The T-rex roared and ran down the corridor, straight after them. She grabbed onto the upper, glass part of the hatchback, and held the jeep back. The rear wheels spun helplessly. The hatchback came off one of its hinges, then the other, and came clean off in the theropod's jaws. The jeep sped off through the anomaly.

The Rex threw the hatch to the side, in Connor's direction. Connor ducked.

The hatchback shattered and crumpled against the wall just above his head. He was sprinkled in shattered glass, and the door frame itself fell onto the console just beside him.

Connor looked up. The console was undamaged, and still in good working order.

The T-rex swiped her tail in Connor's direction. Connor ducked again. Her tail hit the console. The rex lost interest in Connor, and followed her nose through the hole in time. Connor turned back to the console. It was partially crumpled, and emitting sparks.

Connor decided to go through after Abby and Grant to make sure they were alright. As he stood in front of the sparkling time-rupture, he noticed something. The walls of the hub were lined with blocks of something. He hadn't perceived them before in his concentration.

Connor noticed yet more thud-steps coming towards him.

He had just enough time to jump to the side as another T-rex ran towards the anomaly. As Connor looked up and caught sight of it, he decided that it looked like a smaller male – maybe her mate? It ran through the wormhole.

Connor focused on the anomaly. He stood out in front of it, and took a deep breath.

Connor took a running start, and jumped through the light.

On Wednesday 21st July 2010, at the stroke of midnight, two important events in the history of humanity took place at the exact same moment.

At a private air base outside the city of Miami, a jet-plane took off from the runway. It was carrying a cargo-hold full of explosives which its crew intended to drop on a facility downtown. They were following the orders of one Helen Cutter, a time-traveller who was aiming to destroy a group of dangerous predators which she had brought from Earth's future. Any humans caught in the crossfire of this explosion were deemed to be necessary sacrifices. Two of the jet-plane's passengers, Ian Malcolm and Richard Levine, intended on stopping this atrocity.

Meanwhile, at the same moment, at that facility in Miami, a member of the Anomaly Research Centre's field team jumped through an anomaly into the Cretaceous period after a successful attempt to draw a female tyrannosaur back to her home time. His name was Connor Temple, and he planned on rejoining with fellow ARC team member Abby Maitland, and Isla Nublar survivor Alan Grant, who were both on the other side.

Unbeknownst to them, Helen had formulated a back-up plan. Her men had set up a high quantity of C4 explosives in the facility. The building was now displaying a certain pheromone which would attract the future predators. Using CCTV surveillance, Helen was poised to blow up the building as soon as the future predators were inside, regardless of how many humans were there too. As it so happened, the rest of the ARC team were making their way towards the facility at that very moment.

This is the story of what happened after that moment.

…

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Out of Time – Part 1

…

In matters of conscience, the law of majority has no place. – Mahatma Mohandas K. Gandhi

…

Connor landed on the Cretaceous ash. Momentum still going, he skidded, eventually coming to a halt. He took a look around. The anomaly was situated on an ash field, which led down to a line of trees, rooted at the edge of a wide lake. The lake and the ash-field were surrounded by mountains. In front of him, the tyrannosaurs were pursuing Grant and Abby in the jeep. Connor ran after them.

…

Grant decided to try and drive back to the anomaly somehow. He drove towards the foot of the mountains, intending to swerve around and make his way back to the wormhole.

He looked in the side mirror. Now, there were two tyrannosaurs on his tail. This was going to be even harder.

He drove over a boulder and the battered jeep rocked back and forth. Grant tried to slow down, but the car slipped on the ash, and collided with a much larger boulder. With a smash and a splutter, the jeep finally, irreversibly, died.

Grant got out of the car. "Abby, run!" he shouted. Abby jumped out of the back and fell to the ground just as the female tyrannosaur lunged for her. She crawled under the jaws and leapt onto her feet once she was past its maw. She ran up to join Grant, and together, they retreated into the shrubbery that coated the foothills of the steep mountains. They climbed over boulders and branches, until they reached an unclimbable, sheer cliff-face, just above the treeline. Grant looked back at the T-Rex. She had just swallowed the beef shank they'd been using as bait, and was now looking straight up at them. She gave a guttural growl at them. The male hung back a little bit behind her, sniffing at the jeep.

Grant heard a high-pitched squeal from the bushes. The T-Rexes did too. Immediately, their eyes opened wide, and they lost all interest in Grant and Abby. They looked into the bushes, searching for the source of the squeal.

A miniature t-rex scampered out of the foliage and ran up to the female. It looked very thin, and its ribs were showing. The female lowered her head and sniffed at the youngster. She seemed to sigh in a reptilian way. Then she raised her head high, and led the juvenile and her mate away, towards the lake.

Once they were far away, Grant and Abby descended the mountain side.

"That was amazing…" Grant muttered as they went down. "That juvenile must have been here, waiting for its mother ever since she was captured by BioSyn." He was smiling. No matter how terrible some of BioSyn's creatures were, even one of the most dangerous was capable of that degree of parental care – to recognise her own child after weeks, possibly even months of being apart.

As they emerged at ground level, Connor ran over to them. "It worked!" he shouted. The whole plan worked!" He was grinning.

"Time-travel, huh?" Grant asked. "You really weren't kidding, were you?" He looked around to admire the landscape. It was beautiful. It was entirely ancient. Grant could see giant pterosaurs gliding over the mountains, and a few Triceratops drinking at the edge of the lake. The whole layout seemed somewhat familiar to him. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

"Guys…" Abby elbowed Grant in the side to get his attention.

Grant turned around. "What is it?"

"The anomaly's gone…"

"What?" Connor asked. He and Grant looked up at where she was pointing. She was right. The tyre-tracks from the jeep led straight into thin air where the anomaly must have once been.

They were stuck here.

…

Malcolm and Levine sat in the hold of the plane. Two guards stood alongside them, watching their every move.

Apart from those four, the pilot and co-pilot were the only people on the plane. They had just taken off, and were now making their way into the airspace of Miami.

The guards' walkie-talkies crackled into life. They both lifted them and waited for orders.

"You two, come into the cockpit quickly. Now!" It must have been one of the crew. The two guards followed their orders and left Malcolm and Levine to their own devices. Clearly, none of them saw the two scientists as much of a threat.

Malcolm turned to Levine. He whispered to him, "So, do you have some sort of plan?" The idea that Levine had any plan seemed ridiculous to Malcolm. But who knows, maybe Levine had become cannier since Sorna.

"Yep," Levine whispered back, his face straight and solemn.

Malcolm waited for more details. None came. "Aren't you gonna tell me?" Malcolm asked.

"Be patient," Levine told him.

"Oh, I get it," Malcolm said, reclining in his chair again. "You don't have a plan. You're just gonna try and make it up as you go along. Just like you usually do. The moment a pterosaur flies past the window, you'll forget all about this plan."

"Don't worry, I do have a plan, Doctor Malcolm."

"Right," Malcolm said. "That's good, 'cos at the moment I'm stumped. I mean, how are we supposed to break out of these ropes? And that's another thing. Why are they ropes? Does this woman have something against unbiodegradable restraints-" The plane shook a little. "What was that?"

Levine smiled once again. "The first part of my plan."

…

"Wooding? Are you there?" Jackson started on his headset.

"Sergeant- -ajor!" Wooding's voice came out broken in static.

"Wooding, report on your location!" Jackson said.

"…'re in… Dade…" The connection became worse and then finally they were cut off.

"Bastard!" Jackson gritted his teeth. He stood up from his seat.

"Sir, we've been given orders by Colonel Hopper to alter course to Miami." One of the crewmen announced.

"Did he explain?" Jackson asked, he raised his voice over the sound of the wind blowing through the helicopter's fuselage.

"Aerial surveillance picked up an unregistered 737 cargo jet en-route to Miami." The crewman started, "And UAV Recon showed life signs in the city as well."

"Okay do you have a predicted flight path of the jet?"

"Command reckons it's from BlackSun's artificial island just off of Key West."

"God damn it. These bastards are all over the place." Jackson returned to his seat, next to Stone, who after all this time was asleep.

Jackson shook his head.

…

"Sergeant major, you got to take a look at this!"

"What is it?" Jackson moved up in to the cockpit, he stood between the two pilots.

"Up ahead of us, sergeant major." The pilot, who sat on the left side, pointed out the blinking lights of a 737 jet.

"Move up next to it." Jackson said. He returned to the fuselage.

…

"Wake up, kiddo." Jackson shook Stone. The young soldier jolted awake.

"What is it, sir?" Stone rubbed his eyes as the two air crewmen opened the side doors of the black hawk helicopter.

The wind blew stronger inside the helicopter. They were right next to the aircraft. There was mix of the deafening sounds of the wind and the turbines of the jet.

Both aircraft were already closing in on the city.

Jackson indicated to one of the crewman who manned the right window side mini-gun.

The sergeant major raised his hand, and then lowered it. The air crewman pushed in a button with thumbs and a volley of armour piercing rounds pounded into the rear fuselage.

…

The plane shook a little. "What was that?"

Levine smiled once again. "The first part of my plan."

…

"We're under attack. Mac, open the cargo door!" One mercenary shouted to the other.

The mercenary punched a red button. The large port door shuddered as it opened. Mac grabbed a Steyr machine gun, while the other mercenary loaded a 40mm round into a grenade launcher.

The merc took aim with the launcher. He squeezed the trigger.

THWOOMP!

BOOM!

The helicopter shook as orange fire popped from beneath it. The helicopter's starboard wheel was badly damaged by the 40mm grenade explosion. But the rest of the helicopter was barely affected.

Mac started firing at the helicopter with the machine gun.

In an instant the floor beneath the mercenaries erupted in sparks. The hale of bullets tore through their bodies, mangling them. Mac the grenadier took most of the fire, while the other mercenary was holding on to his guts.

The dying mercenary hit the same button and the cargo door closed.

The mercenary was rapidly breathing in and out. Until he slowed down and stopped.

…

"Sergeant major, we're at bingo fuel!" the pilot warned. "We can't pursue them any further.

"Set down in that field!" Jackson said, with a hint of dismay.

"Roger that!"

The helicopter banked toward an open grass land. A mote separated it from the highway that led into Miami.

…

"I lost them," Wooding informed the rest of the group. He was holding his walkie talkie up to his mouth, but he couldn't get through to the chopper anymore.

Wooding, the other Charlie Squad soldier whose name was Drake, Becker, Hemple, Briggs, Hawkins, Rogers, Sarah, Jenny, Harper, Skinner and an unconscious Quinn were making their way through the city to the facility, where they could hopefully nurse Quinn back to health, rescue Doctor Malcolm via the anomaly, and find Grant, Connor and Abby, who had recently run off by themselves.

The streets of Miami were in ruin. Cars were smashed, buildings battered, and there was no sign of human presence for some time. Most of the population must have fled, been rescued, or been killed by now. They couldn't even see any helicopters flying overhead anymore.

Wooding turned off his walkie, and wordlessly, they continued on to the facility. Skinner led them to a fairly nondescript concrete building, and took them around the side. Once inside the car park, they turned towards the vehicle entrance. The barrier had been smashed.

They all prepared their weapons. Wielding his rifle, Briggs gave Jenny the pistol he wasn't using. Hemple, still carrying Quinn over his shoulder, had the silver revolver. Wooding and Drake had their own rifles. Becker had Hawkins' pistol.

Last they'd heard, this place was overrun with creatures. Hopefully, they had moved on by now. Still, caution was an utmost priority.

Carefully, they walked through the driveway, and came to an area of animal cages.

"Does anyone else smell something really strong?" Rogers asked.

"Probably the animals," Hemple dismissed.

They all turned at the sound of doors opening, then slamming shut again. Within seconds, Helen's spy – Ketterman – ran up to them. Becker, Briggs, Rogers and Hawkins all raised their weapons straight at him.

"Ketterman!" Skinner exclaimed. "You survived?"

"Yeah, the creatures are gone. But you all have to get out of here, right now!"

"Why?" Harper asked. "Quinn's injured, we need-"

"The whole place is rigged to blow!" Ketterman shouted.

Only now did Becker take notice of the corridor Ketterman had just emerged from. The walls were lined with blocks of C4 explosives. He approached one block, and took a closer look. The blocks were connected to each other by wires, covered by a steel casing. Becker tried to remove it, but it was fixed too tight.

"That smell…" Skinner walked up beside Becker and sniffed the air. "I know that smell…" Fitted beside each block of C4 was a packet of yellow powder. It too was fixed in place with an iron cover. Skinner wiped the packet with his index finger. He sniffed the finger. His mouth dropped, and his face turned to shock. "Myoticine!"

"What?" Ketterman questioned.

"Myoticine," Skinner replied, quickly and thoroughly cleaning his finger with a tissue, before throwing the tissue into a nearby bin. "It's an informal name we came up with. It's a kind of pheromone that attracts the megamyotids." He looked back at the ARC team members. "Your future predators. We're not sure why, but they'll follow that scent anywhere."

"The whole place stinks of that stuff!" Ketterman told them. "It's fitted to every block of C4, and the C4's stuck everywhere!"

Skinner looked up at a nearby security camera. A red light glowed beside the lens. "She's doing this."

"You mean Helen?" Jenny asked. "What's she doing?"

Skinner looked away from the camera. "She knows all about our research. She knows that those future bats are highly dangerous, and she also knows that this is their only major weakness. If she wants them taken out, she'll draw them all into one place, and then destroy them." Skinner looked back at the lens. "She's planning on drawing them here, then detonating the building." He looked down, and thought. "She'll probably wait until all nine are inside…"

"Actually, the tyrannosaurs killed two of them," Wooding told him.

"And the raptors killed three more," Jenny added. "So there's four left."

"But what about us?" Harper asked. "She won't blow us up with them, will she?" He tried to smile a little.

"Oh, don't count on it!" Hemple told him. "What about Quinn?"

"We can't take him to the ward now," Harper said. "We have to get him to hospital. Hopefully Wooding's men are coming soon, and they'll airlift him out."

"Ketterman," Becker called to the spy. His gun was still raised at him, even though the other soldiers had since lowered theirs. "Did you by any chance see three people come through here? One of them had short blonde hair, another had-"

"A grey beard?" Ketterman asked. "Yeah, I saw them. They sailed through here on a wrecked land-rover, with a T-rex."

"Where did they go?" Jenny inquired.

…

Grant lay on the ash field. Now that the anomaly was gone, they could see that the ash had come from a volcano that smouldered behind them. The volcano overlooked a beautiful, pristine lake, surrounded by lush vegetation and impressive mountains. A few herbivorous dinosaurs were browsing and drinking at the side of the watering hole.

He'd figured out how this was familiar to him. Astonishingly, this was the very same valley he had been excavating in Montana, just before he'd left for Land of Time. He remembered the lakebed, the trees that surrounded it, and the volcanic ash on one side. He remembered the volcano. He remembered the dinosaurs around the lake. A whole ecosystem preserved at the KT boundary.

He didn't remember a mother, father and baby tyrannosaurus rex. And he was glad of that.

Abby and Connor were sorting through the jeep for anything they could salvage. All attempts at trying to restart it had failed, and considering the landscape around them, were pretty pointless anyway. A jeep in good condition would not have been able to get out of this valley, never mind one that had been destroyed by a theropod.

Connor and Abby walked over, and lay down on either side of Grant.

"What now?" Grant asked.

"We try to find another anomaly," Connor said. "Hawkins told me that Helen disappeared through this one, so she must have been heading for another one. Plus, Doctor Malcolm has to be around here somewhere too."

"The rest of my life spent with Ian Malcolm," Grant remarked. He smirked. "Not how I was planning on passing my retirement, anyway."

"What about the meteorite?" Abby pointed out. "I don't really feel like trying to avoid that one again…

Grant turned to Abby, then Connor, in confusion.

"Long story," Connor said, smiling. He turned to Abby. "Maybe we're lucky, and we've missed it by a couple of centuries." He smiled. "And anyway, that's probably irrelevant. The rest of the team are heading for the facility right now. Professor Skinner was with them. He'll open the anomaly for us again."

…

"They went through that anomaly," Ketterman said, pointing at the end of the anomaly corridor. The wormhole was no longer there, the ceiling laser pointed at nothing. The whole group had followed Ketterman to the hub, including Hemple with the injured Quinn.

"You can re-open the anomaly, right?" Jenny asked.

"Yes, I should be able to…" Skinner reassured her. He hurried over to the console, but stopped before reaching his seat. "It's broken…" he muttered.

"What?" Jenny called.

"It must have got hit by the jeep, or the T-rex," he explained. "It's been bashed in, the screen's barely visible. It's gone into automatic shut-down." Skinner protected his face as a spark jumped out from the machinery.

"Can you fix it?" Becker asked.

"Maybe." Skinner sat down at the console, and started typing into the undamaged keyboard.

An anomaly opened at the end of the corridor. Light scattered across the room, and everyone's eyes were drawn to it.

Quinn, who was still draped over Hemple's shoulder, let out a murmur.

"Danny!" Jenny exclaimed. "It's OK, don't try to move…"

Quinn opened his eyes. "What's happening?" He seemed fairly lucid now.

"Connor and Abby just went through an anomaly, and we're trying to get them out."

"What…" Quinn groaned. He pushed himself out of Hemple's hold, and fell onto the floor. "ARGH!" he screamed with pain. Jenny and Hemple tried to help him get up.

Quinn ignored them and pushed himself up. "Connor!" he shouted. "ABBY!" He writhed out of Jenny and Hemple's grasp and ran towards the anomaly. "PAT!"

"Pat?" Jenny shouted in confusion.

"Wait!" Skinner yelled.

"QUINN!" Becker shouted.

Quinn ignored them both, and ran through the anomaly.

"I'm going after them…" Hawkins said, throwing his rifle over his shoulder.

"No!" Skinner protested. "It's the wrong anomaly! The console's malfunctioning."

"Which one is this?" Briggs shouted.

"By my best guess, a future one," Skinner answered.

"By any chance is it the one with those future bats?" Wooding asked.

"Yes," Skinner reluctantly admitted.

"Can you hold this one open?" Becker asked.

"I think so…"

Becker raised his pistol to the anomaly. It seemed a bit puny for the task now. "Hawkins!" he called. "Your rifle!"

Hawkins groaned and threw Becker his rifle.

"Becker, what are you doing?" Jenny asked.

"All non-essential personnel need to leave the building," Becker called. "That includes you, Miss Lewis." With that, he ran through the anomaly, after Quinn.

…

Aboard the plane, coming towards Miami, Levine whispered to Malcolm. "OK, it's time to go."

The two guards had been killed in the shootout, and now, the pilot was continuing onto the city regardless, in order to carry out Helen's plan.

"Oh, have you come up with something?" Malcolm asked Levine. "What is it?"

Levine searched around the inside of his left cheek with his tongue. After a few seconds, he pushed a tiny, gold, metallic, pin-like object out between his lips.

"Is that a safety-pin?" Malcolm asked, confused.

"Mm-hmm," Levine replied, without moving his lips. He repositioned the safety pin, vertically, so that the sharp end, underneath the safety-cap, was held by his lower incisors. Now, he bit down, which depressed the pin, and drew out the sharp end. Levine quickly repositioned the pin horizontally again, and turned to Malcolm. He nodded for Malcolm to turn around.

"Oh, are you kidding me?" Malcolm asked. "You're actually going to try and go through the ropes with that?"

"Mm-hmm!" Levine replied, which was accompanied by a more forceful nod.

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Malcolm repositioned in his seat so that Levine could go through the ropes. This was going to take some time.

…

To Malcolm's surprise, it didn't actually take that long. After five minutes, Levine was through Malcolm's seat-restraints, and then Malcolm was able to undo his feet restraints, and free Levine.

"What kind of safety-pin is that?" Malcolm whispered once they were both standing.

"A special kind that Delta Force gave me. It's a prototype. Particularly strong and serrated, but almost indistinguishable from an ordinary safety-pin, except to trained eyes." Levine looked around the hold. "Right… first thing we need is a parachute pack each. Just in case we need to evacuate."

They found a couple of packs at the back of the hold, and each of them put one on. Malcolm was quite surprised at how straight Levine was thinking. This isn't at all what he was expecting.

Levine stepped over to the window and looked out. "I can't see where we are properly…" He got a hold of the door, and slid it open. It wasn't even locked. God, these guys are unprofessional, Malcolm thought. Maybe Helen just had no idea they'd get through their restraints, let alone try to stop her plan?

"OK," Levine said. "As far as I can tell, we're just at the edge of the city, still over swampland." Malcolm stepped towards the open door, and looked out. Levine was right.

Still looking out the door, Malcolm asked Levine, "So, what's next?" He was beginning to enjoy this.

Malcolm felt a forceful hand push into his back, and he lost his hold of the doorframe. He slipped out of the plane, and fell into the open air. As he hurtled towards the ground, he looked up to the plane, and could just about see Levine stepping away from the door.

Malcolm reached for his parachute chord, and tried to pull on it. He shouted up at the plane. "YOU BASTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"

The parachute deployed, and jerked the words out of Malcolm's lungs.

…

Levine stepped back from the open door.

He looked towards the door into the cockpit, and stepped towards it. This was something that Levine had to do himself. It was his final mission, one which he'd set himself, and no one else could accomplish. It was one which could claim his life. He couldn't risk Doctor Malcolm's life too.

He walked towards the cockpit door, and took a deep breath.

He kicked the door down.

Chapter Forty-Three

The Inquisitive Ian Malcolm

Truth travels slowly, but it will reach even you in time. – Benjamin Disraeli (1804-1881)

So, there's five suspects; the CEO, the madwoman, the accident, the spy, or the shady keeper… Malcolm continued writing into his notepad of theories.

"What's that?"

Malcolm was jerked out of his thoughts by the voice of Keeper Amy McCoy. She wasn't on his list, but she seemed close to one of the suspects, Keeper Vincent Scott. He'd have to conceal his investigation for now.

"Oh, nothing, just jotting down a few thoughts," he replied with nonchalance. He slid the notepad and pen back into his shirt pocket, and stood up off the log he'd been sitting on. "Time to go?"

"Yeah," came the voice of Keeper Scott, from the other side of a stand of bushes. He emerged shortly. "I can't really tell where we are, but if we keep heading east, we should hit the highway." He revealed his compass, set it at east, and led the way.

After a few minutes of walking through un-extraordinary forest, Malcolm spoke up from the back of the column, "So, Keeper Scott, how'd you get into this job in the first place?"

"Ah, I answered the ad. BioSyn were advertising for keepers. I'd been at Kwazulu Natal in South Africa for a few years, and I wanted a change. I saw this ad by BioSyn, and I applied for it. I had to do a sort of audition for a two-week period with some ordinary animals; wolves, alligators, elephants; and then they hired me on the basis of my performance there. It's the same process the other keepers went through."

"OK," Malcolm answered. "What did they tell you the park was? I'm guessing they didn't want to reveal it until they were sure of your… suitability."

"Yeah, you're right. They just said it was a normal wildlife park in the Florida Everglades, with public access."

"Yeah, um, excuse me if this is a personal question, but are you happy with the park?"

"How do you mean?" Scott continued to walk on straight ahead, never looking back.

"Well, just what you said to Rossiter. I mean, Vincent - do you mind if I call you Vincent?"

"Sure, whatever."

"Yeah, Vincent, when you first came into the lobby, you seemed a little angry. Very angry, in fact."

"Well, I'd just witnessed more than six dozen innocent people get slaughtered."

"You said it was all Rossiter's fault. What exactly did you mean?"

"Just everything. The park shouldn't have been made. Those creatures were just plucked out of their natural habitat, and put on show. It was cruel, and very corporate."

"So, if you'd had the chance, would you have tried to stop the park? And stop BioSyn?"

"Well, yeah, but I didn't get that chance. Let's face it, I'm just an ordinary keeper."

"Well, I wouldn't say that…" said McCoy. "You were one of the more influential staff members."

"Oh really?" Malcolm asked. "What decisions did he influence?"

"Well, I don't know. He was in charge of a few things, weren't you?" She looked over at him, but he was still walking ahead. "Stuff like the weapons, and some of the electrical work."

"Seriously?" Malcolm asked, only after he was sure she was finished. "Electrical? Like the power grid, by any chance?"

Vincent stopped. "Um, looks like we're gonna have to go around this ravine," he pointed down to a stream. "Come on."

Malcolm continued. "Vincent, were you with Keeper McCoy at the time of the breakout?"

"No, I was alone," he replied.

"Where were you? I mean, all by yourself, you must have been pretty quick to avoid the creatures."

"Up behind the Camarasaur enclosure. They're pretty peaceful. And they kept the predators away."

"Yeah, I guess." That was something tangible… The Camarasaur enclosure was, as Campbell had told him earlier, beside the weapons cache. As the convoy continued around the ravine, Malcolm allowed himself to fall behind slightly. He pulled the Land of Time branded notepad out of his shirt pocket, and flipped to the back pages. There was a miniature map of the park printed back here. The Camarasaur enclosure was by far the biggest, on the left-most/southern-most side of the map. A small black square lay behind the Camarasaur enclosure. It was unlabeled. He guessed that that was the cache. And… he checked… there was just one road that led 'up behind the Camarasaur enclosure'. The cache was at the end of that road.

Malcolm noted all this down on Vincent's page, while making sure to keep up on foot.

He thinks the park is cruel. He was up around the heavy weapons cache at the time of the power-cut, before Hemple's group found the weapons gone. And he was possibly in charge of the power grid.

This was completely messing up his chaos diagrams.

He caught up with the group leader. "So, Vincent, Keeper McCoy mentioned that you were in charge of electronics, does that include the power-grid?"

"No, I wasn't in charge of the power-grid full-time. That was one of the security guards. He was in charge when the power-cut hit."

As Scott continued on, Malcolm remembered something that Campbell had told him…

"Only two normal security guards, really?" Malcolm asked. "Not even ones at the main controls? Like the power-grid?"

"I know what you're getting at, but those controls are mainly accessed from the offices here, especially Rossiter's. Seeing as those offices were definitely empty tonight, that rules that out. Whoever did this, they did it remotely."

'Those offices were definitely empty tonight.' There couldn't have been a security guard there. There never was, especially not when the power-cut hit.

Malcolm allowed himself to fall back again to take note of this revelation.

When he slotted his notepad back into his shirt pocket, he found that he'd fallen a little too far behind.

He rushed on ahead to catch up. Eventually, he emerged in front of a huge herd of dinosaurs, on a large field. And he couldn't see the keepers anywhere.

These dinosaurs stood on all fours, and had a distinctive, long crest. These were the Parasaurolophus. A few looked over at him, but had little interest, and continued browsing.

Malcolm surveyed the tree-line, and picked the tree he considered to be the most climbable. He jammed his foot into the base of the lowest branch, and heaved himself up. He was greeted by a small, frilled dinosaur, up in the canopy. It chattered at him, and soon, the branches above and around his head were alive with the sounds of tiny dinosaurs. Malcolm brushed the one in front of him away, and pulled himself onto the branch it had been occupying. He took the mini-map of the park back out of his pocket, and looked through the various names of creatures. These must have been the 'Microceratus'. Malcolm could just about recognise the name from his time on Sorna. These may have been InGen dinosaurs.

Malcolm steadied himself by holding onto the surrounding branches, and stood up. Then, he called out. "Vincent Scott! Amy McCoy!"

As soon as he'd shouted, noise broke out amongst the herbivores below. The hoots emitted by the huge herd shook the tree, and Malcolm nearly fell off. The herbivores started to move away, but continued to bellow out. Malcolm tried to keep shouting for the keepers, but he couldn't even hear himself over the noise.

As the herd vacated the field, Malcolm dismounted the tree, and started walking behind them. The herd would at least offer him some safety from the predators.

…

A few hours passed, and the herd settled down again. Malcolm decided to keep on going, to try and find the edge of the park.

Through more forest, Malcolm found it. A one-hundred-foot-tall perimeter fence stood in his way. Judging by the no-longer-lit sirens at each pole, the power wasn't going through it anymore. Still, it was topped with barbed wire. Malcolm would have to find a way around.

A few hundred metres down the fence, Malcolm heard noises on the other side. There was something moving among the trees.

Malcolm started to back away, while keeping his eye on the source of the disturbance.

A person emerged from the vegetation.

"Helen Cutter," Malcolm stated. "What the hell are you doing back here?"

She was alone, for once. "Checking out the validity of some calls to the emergency services. Could you verify them?"

"I'm afraid so. And I gotta say, Helen, the evidence is kinda stacking up against you."

"Excuse me, Ian?"

"The power's down. The creatures are out."

"What?" There seemed to be genuine shock in her voice. "Who was it?"

"Well, I've been trying to figure that out. I'm afraid, what with your sudden disappearance before the power was cut, and your reputation with the ARC team, you're the prime suspect at the moment."

Helen looked into the middle distance, behind Malcolm. Then she switched back. "Who else do you think it could be?"

Malcolm smiled. "I'm afraid that's confidential. But if you'd like to argue your case, I'm all ears."

Helen considered. "OK. Follow me."

She walked down the fence further. Malcolm followed. She stopped at a gate, and pulled out a ring of keys. She unlocked it, and beckoned Malcolm through. After he'd walked through, she closed and locked it.

"Aren't you going to try and check out the park?" Malcolm asked. "And the creatures?"

"There's nothing I can do from there. We need to head back to the facility…"

"Great, how far is that exactly?"

"Downtown."




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Chapter Forty-Four

Back the Way We Came
 

Change your thoughts and you change your world. – Marcus Aurelius Antoninus
 

Captain Hilary Becker was leading a contingent composed of himself, Lieutenant Lucas Redfern and Jenny Lewis. They'd tried their best to find other evacuees, but no luck. As a result of the evacuation, they now had to make their way out of the infested park without the hope of being rescued any time soon.

The park had a formidable selection of fauna, from all eras of Earth's history.

But Becker had his trusty Heckler & Koch G-36c assault rifle, an experienced Lieutenant at his right-hand and his brand-new Sig Sauer P226 pistol. He liked their chances.

…

Jenny was at the middle of the group, between Becker in the lead, and Redfern at the back. Despite the formidable bodyguard she had ended up with, she felt quite vulnerable. She had no weapon, save for an opulent letter-opener she'd found on Rossiter's desk. She'd been left with it in the rush to escape the complex.

The plan was to go back the way they'd come, through the park. The idea was that when the rescue did come, it would be somewhere in the park's interior; probably the visitor lodge. Jenny presumed that that would be where everyone else would be heading.

Jenny had spent longer at the complex than most. She'd stayed there since being darted by the Cleaners, like Redfern and Mason had.

She was struck by the change in the park's appearance. Eighteen hours earlier, when she'd last seen it, it had been quite an immaculate affair. Everything had looked pretty much how you'd expect a newly-opened park to look. Now, she could see evidence of the breakout everywhere. There were the obvious things: torn fences lining every enclosure; scattered vegetation; dinosaur-sized piles of faeces. Then there were the subtler details. The drops of dried blood on the occasional leaf; imprints of three-toed feet and tail-swipes in the dirt; even the distinctive lack of birdsong was somewhat eerie.

It was the middle of the day. This confiscated the nocturnal advantage that some creatures possessed, which calmed Jenny only a little.

They were passing one of the more distinctive enclosures in the park: the Pteranodon aviary. A steel door led into the enclosure. However, this was far too small to be the main guest entrance; it must have been the staff entrance. According to Hemple, the pterosaurs had all escaped over the park walls, so their enclosure should be empty.

A squawk came from the bushes.

Before Becker could turn to face it, a greenish blur sped out from the undergrowth and, head ducked, it rammed into his torso. Becker dodged out of its way, avoiding the brunt of the blow. It still knocked him off his feet, and he fell onto the ground. The blur kept on running. Jenny could make out that it was a biped, and quite a big one, easily as tall as the six-foot Becker. It ran at the aviary door, and rammed into it. The dinosaur was knocked off balance. It had dented the door inwards so far that it could now push its way through the gap, an opportunity which it promptly took up.

Redfern helped Becker up, and he retrieved his rifle. "What was that?"

"I don't know," Jenny replied, "but it's gone now. Let's just keep-"

Another squawk, this one much more bird-like. Another biped, this one much larger, came charging out of the same bushes. This time Becker upped his rifle more quickly, and dodged it. Jenny got a better look this time. It was a flightless bird, with tiny, clawed wings, and a hooked beak that really gave its identity away.

"Kelenken," Jenny identified. "Terror bird."

"I wonder how it got that name, then," Becker said as he pointed his rifle after it, towards the aviary door. The bird squeezed through the same gap, and carried on. Despite being very tall, it was also very thin.

"Come on," Becker prompted, "we might be able to lock them in there." He approached the door, and squeezed through the gap, sideways. He searched around for the lock. After a few seconds, he spoke up. "Yeah, the lock's still fine, it's just the shape of the door. Redfern, help me with this."

Redfern followed his order through the door. Jenny decided that she felt safer with the soldiers than without, and squeezed through as well.

"Ma'am, could you hold these?" Becker reached out and handed her a loop of keys. "Just in case I need them when I don't have any free hands."

Jenny took the keys, and took a look around the aviary.

The mid-day sun illuminated the whole enclosure. It was actually quite majestic. The thick cage bars (each as thick as Becker's arm) formed into twin domes. Outside the bars was a mesh of previously electrified wiring. Jenny couldn't quite figure out how the lack of power made any difference to the security of these animals, what with the steel bars. Then she noticed, at the summit of the dome, the bars were further apart. She could just make out several large holes in the mesh. They wasted no time. The aviary was very high, at least 100 feet. It stretched down, below their feet, to a depth of about 30 feet. The edges of the enclosure were steep cliff-faces, covered in verdant green vegetation. Below them, at the bottom of the aviary was a small lake. This place had everything that an overgrown pelican could want. And yet, they had all (as far as she could see) vacated it.

Jenny could see a far larger entrance across the dome from them, presumably the main entrance, for guests. Both entrances led onto a wire-walled, wire-roofed walkway that stretched as far as Jenny could see. The guest walkway was far wider than Jenny's.

The staff walkway was vibrating jerkily in front of her. She could hear squawks from further into the dome, but couldn't make out where the two creatures were.

"Nah, there's nothing we can do," Becker said. Jenny turned back to them, who had given up. "Not without locking ourselves in, anyway. Maybe from the other side…" He stood up and reached for his rifle.

*BANG*

SQUAWK

Becker was pushed backwards from the door by the force of another creature slamming into it. Another bird stretched its neck through the gap, and tried to force its way through.

Now Jenny could get a proper look at it. It was massive. Its head alone was at least the size of Becker, and it ended in a curved, hooked beak. It could easily wrap those jaws around Becker's torso. Becker being so close by provided an easy size comparison. As he grabbed his rifle and stood up, she could see that it was almost twice his height.

"Hold it shut!" Becker shouted, and together, he and Redfern tried to push against its strength. It overpowered both of them. It squeezed through, and knocked the two soldiers to either side.

It turned to Jenny, and let out another demonic squawk. Its eyes fixed on her.

Jenny backed away, and turned to run. She stepped out onto the walkway, turned, and ran as fast as she could.

The periodic clangs on the walkway behind her told her it was following. The strength of the vibrations told her how close it was.

She could hear another set of footsteps on the walkway, then another. Becker and Redfern must have been in pursuit.

She heard another squawk behind her. It sounded like a giant raven's caw, edged with a sort of sharpness.

The vibrations got heavier.

Stronger.

Every second.

Faster.

Closer.

Another hellish SQUAWK.

They were coming to a crossroads.

The greenish blur sped out in front of her again, from the left.

SQUAWK

Jenny dodged down the way it had come. The Kelenken that had been following her skidded to a halt, and looked around. She could see now that it had to bend down to fit in the walkway.

Jenny regretted choosing the left walkway almost immediately.

The first bird stood over her, somewhat taken aback. Then it opened its beak.

More noise from down the walkway.

The blur leapt over Jenny and rammed into the side of the bird. Jenny got the chance to stand up, and get a look at her rescuer. It was a bipedal dinosaur, with a domed head, fringed with small spikes. Jenny's knowledge of the creatures was minimal, but perusing the leaflet yesterday had given her an image for each. This domed-creature was a… packy-something. She couldn't remember its exact name.

It was shorter than the bird, but much stouter, and looked a lot stronger than the lightweight bird. Height-wise, it was also better-suited to the cramped walkway.

The bird righted itself, and squawwwwwwed at the packy. It arched its back and raised its hooked wings, and prepared to charge.

The packy took the next move, and rammed the bird right in the throat.

While the bird recovered, Jenny heard the soldiers arrive. As she turned back, she could see that the other Kelenken was now nowhere to be seen.

Back with the melee, the packy charged at the bird again. Kelenken dodged, and the packy lodged its head through the wire mesh. It tried to pull itself out, but its feet just slipped. The Kelenken lowered it beak.

The packy's head snapped back, and walloped the bird's beak on the way out. It left a hole in the mesh.

The packy circled around the bird again. It lowered its head and, while the Kelenken was still recovering from dizziness, it gave one almighty ahead.

The packy pushed the Kelenken sideways, and straight through the hole it had made earlier. The packy stopped itself, and the bird fell through. Jenny saw the bird plummet, and hit the lake. After a second or two, it resurfaced, drenched. Above, the packy rose its head, and wandered on, down the walkway, away from the humans.

"Ma'am?" Becker said. "We have to go. Back the way we came in."

…

They walked through the park, towards the visitor centre. They encountered no more predators, only herbivores, such as the ostrich-like Gallimimus and the nimble Othneilia. They walked past the enclosure of the packy creature, and an information post outside the fence re-informed Jenny that it was 'Pachycephalosaurus wyomingensis'.

They took a break outside the now-vacant Gallimimus enclosure. They kicked in a nearby vending machine to steal a couple of water-bottles. Redfern volunteered to keep watch while Becker hydrated.

"I wonder if they knew that they were creating a death-trap?" Jenny pondered out loud.

"Hmm," Becker replied.

"I… I'm public relations. What the hell am I doing here…"

Becker looked up. "Inventing one hell of a cover-up, I'm hoping?"

Jenny smiled. "It'll be quite a challenge…"

"I'm sure you'll think of something."

"Yes. And then we can keep on doing… whatever it is we're doing here."

Becker drank from the bottle again, and screwed it closed. "Saving lives."

"Oh yes, you, maybe. I'm just… there."

Becker cleared his throat. "Ma'am, we've all had a hard time here. We're all sleep-deprived. Exhaustion and shell-shock can do strange things to the mind. Believe me, I've seen it happen."

"Hmm." His words made sense. But this wasn't just a recent feeling. She changed the subject. "So, did you really come through that anomaly to find Quinn?"

Becker smiled. "Yeah. Do you approve?"

"I'm just surprised. Seems like a foolhardy mission to undertake for just one man."

"You're referring to the airport anomaly?"

"Well, I'm just wondering what was different this time?"

"Nothing. Not really. Another anomaly, another time-zone, but the same danger, and the same man. What's different this time? I just… I'm not sure what it was, really. It wasn't a split-second impulse, I had time. Time to think it through. I was confident enough to take it to Lester. The first time, at the airport, that was a split-second impulse. Instinct. And it was the right choice. It was logical. Going after Quinn was illogical."

"So why did you do it?"

"Because I felt wrong for not doing it. This man had done all this for us, and I couldn't even afford him a minute to come back. I guess I owed him."

"OK guys, time to go?" Redfern had returned.

"Yes, Lieutenant," Becker answered. Together, they continued their trek.

…

They were nearly at the visitor centre. Just down this road, and they'd be there.

krrrrrrrrrrrrrkk

Becker raised his rifle in the direction of the noise, and stand of trees. Redfern did likewise with his pistol. "Let's move!" Becker called. They all backed away quickly from the trees.

The Kelenken charged out, beak held straight.

Becker and Redfern fired.

A pained SQUAWKwas accompanied by a thwack, as the bird's beak blindsided Redfern. He was knocked to the side, and Becker kept firing. The bullets made deep wounds in the bird's flank, but it barely broke stride. It was making for Jenny.

There were no pachy… somethings to save her now.

She ran straight for the nearest building. It was a glass dome, with green foliage visible inside. The door was locked.

Then she remembered. She still had the keys.

The reached into her pocket, and pulled out the loop. There were dozens. She reached for one, and hoped for the best. She turned the key.

The padlock opened.

The Kelenken slammed into her, and she collapsed through the door.

She was pushed onto the ground. The Kelenken started pecking and biting. She rolled aside, pushed herself up, and ran as fast as she could.

There was no path through these trees, so she just pushed her way through the branches of the trees.

…

Becker and Redfern ran through the trees after them. They could barely make out the way they'd gone.

Becker determined that this was the Arthropleurid dome. Though most of the flora looked modern, some of it looked ancient, prehistoric.

Through a mess of branches and leaves, they came to a halt at the edge of the dome. Glass wall curved up over their heads to end in a rounded summit, much like the pterosaur aviary. In the wall at Becker's height, there was a small box, with well-insulated wires sprouting on either side, lining the wall.

They dived back into the trees, after Ms Lewis.

Jenny emerged at a clearing. In front of her was another tunnel of wire-mesh. It must have been another viewing walkway. She slowed her pace to catch her breath, and stopped. Behind her, the Kelenken materialized from the trees.

Cornered, she turned to face it, and grasped the letter-opener in her pocket.

The Kelenken was distracted by noises from the trees around it.

It peered up at the tree-trunks, many of which bore no branches until much further up.

Something was climbing down one of the trunks, hugging the bark.

Jenny couldn't quite make it out, but it looked almost like a giant centipede.

The centipede reared off the bark, and dropped down onto the bird's head.

Another QUAWK.

The bird shrieked and shook the giant bug off itself. The centipede writhed and righted itself onto its legs. Then it reared up, and revealed its full length.

The creature could rear its front end upwards to the height of the bird. Giant mandibles on either side of its mouth opened and shut menacingly in the bird's direction.

The Kelenken charged head-first into the centipede's jaws.

The mandibles closed and held the bird's skull, and the rest of the centipede's body managed to squirm around the charge. The bird tried to shake its head free, but it was no good.

CRRRRAAKKH!

The bird summoned the strength and withdrew its head. It was bleeding around the base of its beak. The centipede must have had some kind of fangs.

The Kelenken started spinning and lashing out with pain. It raised its head and gave another cry of pain. Its eyes were bloodshot. It then focused on its bane.

The bird approached the centipede, and swung its beak at the arthropod. The centipede was a weakling in comparison, and was sent flying.

It hit the ground and writhed around itself, trying to right itself. The bird didn't give it the chance.

Kelenken rested its talon on the centipede's exoskeletal armour, held it firm to the ground, and lowered its beak.

The centipede's underside was softer and more vulnerable. The bird's hooked jaws made short work of it.

Before it could eat much, though, the bird lifted its head again and swung it about with pain. More pained squawks echoed through the dome. The poison was causing it agony.

Jenny had stood by as this all happened, trapped against the wire walkway. She heard footsteps coming in her direction. Becker and Redfern must have heard the squawks, and followed them to her.

…

They'd left the door open.

Elsewhere in the dome, a pack of Procompsognathus happened upon the box Becker and Redfern had found earlier. It was one of many boxes that refreshed the air. These boxes removed excess nitrogen and replaced it with oxygen. They maintained an oxygen level of thirty-five per cent, compared to twenty-one per cent outside. This was essential for the Arthropleurid inhabitants of the dome.

The Procompsognathus sensed the electrical properties of the box. Much like contemporary pests like ants, they were attracted to it. About a dozen tiny dinosaurs started gnawing at the box.

A spark.

The compies scattered. The spark hit the leaf litter. A flame rose at that spot. It started to spread.

…

Jenny, Becker and Redfern trekked back the way they'd come, out of the dome. Both soldiers had their guns raised.

"It's a high-oxygen environment," Jenny told them. "It said that on one of the information posts, inside the walkway. Firearms aren't much use here."

"We'll keep them up anyway, just in case," Becker replied. He paused for a second, and audibly sniffed the air. "Do either of you smell smoke?"

Jenny and Redfern sniffed. "Wood-smoke," Redfern confirmed.

"High oxygen means fires travels fast…" Jenny said.

"Then let's get moving," Becker told them.

They quickened their step.

Soon enough, the smoke reached them through the trees. It was coming in at around two o'clock to their current direction. Tiny, bipedal dinosaurs skipped past them, away from the smoke. Wood-smoke was a smell that terrified all forest animals.

SQUAW

It was behind them again. Becker sighed, and turned around to face the sound. Redfern lined up beside him with his pistol held high. Becker was ready to shoot.

The Kelenken looked worse then ever. Blood streamed down its face, the gore from the centipede stained its throat, and its eyes were as bloodshot as before.

Becker opened fire, and emptied his rifle into the bird's face and torso.

More pained squawks, and the demon bird ran straight at Redfern. The soldier was thrown to the ground, and the bird's huge talon came to rest on his chest. His pistol had been dropped into the bushes. Becker kept firing, and tried to kick the bird off the lieutenant.

The sound of the wood-fire reached them. It was closing in.

Becker shoved the bird to the ground, and pulled Redfern up. Together, they fired into the bird, which eventually ran into the trees.

"Come on!" Jenny shouted. All three of them ran from the fire, which was nearly upon them.

After about ten seconds, Jenny looked to her right. "Becker!" The captain was still there, but Redfern was gone.

They both stopped, and looked back.

The Kelenken must have grabbed him while they were making for the exit. They could just make him out through the branches. He was locked in combat with the bird, twenty yards back. They could hear the gunshots.

Becker led the way back, and readied his rifle. He searched for another round of ammo.

Before he could reach him, the fire closed in. It cut across their path at astonishing speed. Becker and Jenny stopped. Becker reloaded the rifle, and aimed.

"Dammit…" with the bird and the man so close together, and so far away from him, Becker couldn't get a lock.

"Just leave me!" Redfern called back. "Trust me…" The bird pushed its head into him. It was hard to tell what happened next. But the gunshots ceased.

The fire was circling around them. They'd be trapped soon.

Becker grabbed Jenny, and together they sprinted for the exit. Becker grabbed the handle and pulled it open, then slammed it shut behind him. He slumped to the ground.

Jenny backed away, and fell against a tree.

Inside the dome, she could see the fire raging. Smoke was escaping through a small vent at the dome's summit.

People ran towards them from the visitor centre. Jenny took little notice. All that was in her head was her last image of that bird.

Its eyes bloody and red. Its hooked beak dripping blood. Its neck and torso drenched in blood and gore. Flames roaring around it.

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