Totemaster (The ultimate master of the Tote)

Life Finds a Way: The BioSyn Incident - Epilogue

Mon, 07 Mar 2011 18:00:21 GMT

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

Life Finds a Way: The BioSyn Incident - Act 3 (b)

Tue, 25 Jan 2011 17:03:28 GMT

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 Sixty

Out of Time – Part 2

For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: It might have been! – John Greenleaf Whittier

"Pat!"

Danny kicked down the door of the old house and ran inside. "PAT!" His brother was nowhere to be seen.

Danny heard a shout from the first room on his left, and followed it. It was a room of dull colours: beiges and yellows lined the walls, and the once luxurious velour carpet had been eaten away and the colour had turned to tannish brown.

A shimmering, spinning, hovering mass of light and shards lay in the middle of the chamber. He could hear his brother's voice calling from inside.

"PAT!" he shouted, and got ready to go through.

At that moment, all of his surroundings melted away. The beige and brown of the walls and carpet disappeared and were replaced with black and silver colours. One thing remained, though. The anomaly had stayed put, unchanging. It still lay before him.

Danny's memories came back, and he remembered what had happened. The park… the creatures… those gremlins. That dinosaur that attacked him.

"What's happening?" he muttered.

He heard Jenny's voice, but only barely. "Connor and Abby just went through an anomaly, and we're trying to get them out."

"What!" So they're gone too? Danny tried to stand up, but somehow fell to the floor. He landed on his stomach, and felt a flair of sheer agony. "ARGH!" He felt two pairs of hands grabbing hold of him. He swung out and pushed himself up. "Connor!" he shouted. "ABBY!" He started running. "PAT!" He pushed himself through the pain, and ran through the wormhole of light.

Danny collapsed face-first on the dirt. He forced his head upwards to look around. His mind was spinning, and his vision blurry.

His head and vision calmed. Then the terrible pain returned; both in his head, and in his chest. He pushed himself up and got a proper look around. He was standing on a patch of dirt, imprinted with tyre-tracks. The tyre-tracks led out of the anomaly. Around the anomaly was grass, and about ten yards from the anomaly in all directions was the treeline. Thick forest continued from there as far as he could make out.

The sky was bright, but the harshest sunlight was softened by some cloud cover.

An overwhelming pang of pain erupted in his chest and brought him to his knees. His head started to spin again, and the trees in front of him changed colour from green, to a reddish tinge, to yellow.

Then he saw it. Hiding just beyond the trees, a gremlin observed his struggle.

"Grrrraaaaargh!" Danny awkwardly pushed himself up and ran towards the gremlin, kicking dirt as he went. He saw the gremlin withdraw into the darkness.

Danny reached the trees. His foot was caught by a tree-branch and he fell onto the ground again. He only stayed there for half a second, and pushed himself up again.

Another pang in his chest. Danny brushed it off and kept going, only able to amble now.

He saw it again. It was standing against a tree. It was partially camouflaged, but Danny could still make out its outline.

Danny moved towards it. The gremlin raised its claws in defiance, and swiped them at him. Danny dodged just in time. He overbalanced, and fell backwards onto a flat rock. His chest was in brutal pain now. He pushed his elbows onto the rock and drove himself up again. He lifted his foot and kicked at the gremlin, which dodged and avoided the blow.

Then Danny noticed a shape in his back pocket. He reached back and pulled out his Glock 17. He couldn't remember how it'd got there. He thought he'd lost it in London.

A whimper from the Gremlin reminded Danny where he was. Danny had it in his sight. He raised his gun at the creature.

This was for the nightmares.

The sleepless nights.

The pain in his chest.

And his brother.

They're actually pretty peaceful if you leave them alone.

Danny heard voices going through his head.

It didn't actually seem all that aggressive, Abby had said.

They generally only attack if they perceive you as a threat in their territory, or if they feel cornered, according to McCoy.

Danny looked at that Gremlin. It looked back at him. It started to back away.

Danny re-focused on the creature just as it started to turn its back on him.

He was determined not to let it go.

Not this time.

It would be so easy to kill it now. Take revenge, while its back was turned.

Almost cowardly.

Danny let it go.

The gremlin scampered into the trees, and disappeared.

Danny vision faded into darkness, and he fell into the grass.

Becker stepped onto the dirt on the other side of the anomaly. Rifle held high, he took a look at his surroundings. The anomaly site itself was grass, with several tyre-tracks leading off into the thick forest that surrounded the clearing. Danny had disappeared.

The grass was quite thick, and Becker could make out a human-made track-way through it. Becker followed the track, towards the trees.

The air was close and humid. There were clouds in the sky, and it looked like rain might be on its way.

Becker found Danny's form draped over a thick tree-root. He checked Danny's wounds. They were dirty now, and in risk of infection. Becker shuddered at the thought of some futuristic virus getting into Danny's unprepared system. Becker lifted Danny up and over his shoulders. As he made his way back towards the anomaly, he whispered to Danny. "Now we're even."

Hemple, Jenny, Briggs, Rogers, Hawkins, Wooding, Drake and Sarah stood in front of the anomaly as Skinner worked on the console. Only Harper and Ketterman had heeded Becker's order to evacuate. They all knew that they only had until the future predators arrived to wait for those who had disappeared through the anomaly.

Hemple and Jenny leaned against the wall opposite the wormhole.

"Helen spared me," Hemple said.

Jenny looked up, mildly confused.

"When Rossiter and me were in the forest," Hemple elaborated, "Helen came and kidnapped Rossiter. Then she found me on the ground. I was unarmed. She had a gun. She could have killed me. But she just smiled, and walked off. While she was trying to kill you, and Connor, and Abby and Becker, she just let me go. Connor said she was trying to stop the ARC doing something in the future. So she tried to kill off everyone who was important in the ARC. But she just let me go."

"What are you saying?" Jenny asked.

"It's Captain Becker!" Rogers called. Sure enough, Becker lumbered through the anomaly carrying Quinn on his back.

He emerged back in the hub, and nodded to Skinner. Skinner nodded back, and got to work on the console.

Hemple and Jenny approached Becker as he plodded away from the anomaly. Danny's shirt looked dirty. Becker called out to the rifleman. "Wooding! Are your men still coming?"

"They should be!" the Charlie Squad soldier called back. He was still fiddling with the walkie, trying to get a message through, but was having no luck.

A cackle echoed down through the corridors. They could all hear it above the sound of the other creatures in their pens. They all knew what it meant.

"They're here!" Briggs whispered.

"Got it!" Skinner shouted. He pressed a final key on the keyboard, and the anomaly swivelled, span, and reformed. "That's their anomaly!"

Hawkins and Briggs waited for no orders. They ran into the anomaly, Briggs in front with his rifle held high.

"Dammit…" Hemple ran in after them.

Wooding, Drake and Rogers all took their positions at the exit of the hub, ready to protect the others from the megamyotids. Skinner stood at the console, ready to close the anomaly when he needed to. Becker and Jenny waited for them to come back.

Connor finally jumped through the anomaly, and landed on the floor.

Jenny ran over to help him up, and soon Abby jumped through after him. Grant followed, and lastly, Hawkins, Briggs and Hemple returned.

"Any sign of Doctor Malcolm?" Rogers called.

"No!" Hemple called back.

As soon as the word had registered, Skinner typed into the console and closed the anomaly. The young soldiers didn't protest this time. Now, everyone ran as fast as they could out of the facility, leaving it all behind.

As they left the hub and entered a corridor, Jenny saw a security camera above their heads. She could hear the future predator moans and grunts further down.

They emerged at the creature pens. Here, they finally saw the future predators. They were trying to get into the cages to devour the inhabitants. Then they saw the humans.

All five of them looked up at the humans and cackled. They jumped away from the cages, and loped towards them.

Drake and Wooding stepped in front of them, and opened fire on the creatures. The predators were pushed back, and Jenny made no delay in hurrying away.

Wooding and Drake only got up to retreat when everyone else had already evacuated.

Jenny was running alongside Hemple. He started flagging for some reason. He didn't seem to be tiring, and yet, he was slowing down. He seemed to be in deep thought, looking into some middle distance, with a strange curiosity.

"Hemple, come on!" Jenny told him. She knew what he was thinking of doing. She didn't know why.

"It's because I'm dead!" Hemple said to her. He slowed down to a jog.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about, come on!" She was in no mood for this. She slowed down to his pace, while all the others kept going at top speed. Briggs brushed past her, and hastily apologized.

"The reason Helen spared me," Hemple continued. "The reason I'm not important in the future. It's the only explanation."

"She's a madwoman!" Jenny exclaimed. "Who knows what her reasoning is?"

Ahead of them, Jenny saw Becker turn back. He noticed how far behind the two of them were. He tried to get back to them, but he had to fight against the flow of the people fleeing in the opposite direction. "Jenny!" he called.

"But I'm second-in-command of the military team! Why wouldn't I be important in the future?" Hemple came to a complete stop. He wasn't looking at her, he was still looking at the middle distance ahead of them. Another cackle sounded behind them. It drew Hemple's gaze back. A future predator had emerged at the end of the corridor. It started walking towards them.

Hemple turned back to Jenny. "I get to choose my destiny. And go out in a blaze of glory!" He smiled.

Becker finally reached Jenny, and grabbed her by the arm. He didn't notice Hemple, and pulled her out of the facility by force.

…

Hemple turned back to face the future predator. It stopped and gave a rattle-cackle. Hemple raised the silver revolver. He shot at the predator. It dodged the bullet, and retreated. Immediately, two other future predators emerged to join the first one. They all eyed Hemple up hungrily.

He couldn't win this one.

But it had never been his intention to win.

He readied himself for the attack. He took a deep breath, and focused on his single priority. To keep them all inside.

He charged into them, revolver in near-constant fire.

They all dodged Hemple's shots, and one of them swiped its arms at his face. Hemple fell with deeps scratches on his right cheek. He ignored the pain and shot the predator in the throat. Another shot in the same place brought it down.

Hemple stepped over the corpse and found himself back amongst the animal pens. He could neither hear nor see future predators. He stepped out into the middle of the floor, surrounded by grunting and snorting creatures.

Then he heard a cackle. Then another.

Soon, he saw a predator appear from behind one of the cages. It stepped on top of the coop, and sized Hemple up.

Hemple swiped around and shot at it. It dodged, but still backed away.

Then another predator emerged on the other side of the room.

Then another one to Hemple's left, at the far end of the chamber.

Finally, the predator that had retreated now reappeared, teeth at the ready.

Hemple was surrounded.

He counted them up. Including the dead one, that was all four remaining predators. They were all here.

He couldn't have had many more bullets left. He was determined to use them all before he went down.

As the predators closed in, Hemple started shooting at them all, trying to keep all sides at bay. He didn't hit any. But it didn't really matter.

Click.

He'd run out.

He dropped the gun.

He realised that the only thing he had left were his fists.

He smirked. Not quite a tyrannosaur, he thought, but close enough.

…

Becker pulled Jenny out into the cool, midnight air. The sky was still clear. Two helicopters had landed in the parking lot. Their engines were still running. Sarah, Connor, Abby, Grant and Skinner were all getting onto one of the helicopters.

A tall, middle aged soldier pulled Sarah up into the helicopter fuselage, a younger soldier of equal height was by his side. The younger soldier pulled Connor in, then Grant.

…

"Where are we going?" Connor asked. He looked up at the two soldiers.

"USS Nimitz." The older one said gruffly.

Connor didn't say anything else and just looked to the floor. An air crewman came up to him and adjusted his seat belt, another air crewman next to him adjusted Skinner's seat belt.

The young man sighed and closed his eyes.

…

Becker, still carrying Danny, pulled Jenny into the other helicopter. Jenny was in a state of shock, but struggling against Becker all the same. They got onto the chopper, and were quickly followed by Briggs, Hawkins, Rogers, Wooding and Drake. Becker lowered Danny onto his back. He called into the cabin. "Have we got a medic on board?"

"Everybody hold on, we're getting outta here!" came a call from the pilot. The turbine started up, and the helicopter lifted off the ground.

The door to the cockpit opened. "You need a medic?" came a voice from the doorway.

"Doody!" Becker exclaimed. "Come over here. Danny's been attacked."

"I finally found you two…" said the medic, kneeling down over the injured ex-cop.

As Doody looked over the wounds, Jenny tried to get Becker's attention. "No, Becker… Becker! Hemple's still in there!"

Becker looked at her with shock. "What? Why?" Before she could answer, Becker stood up and looked out of the helicopter. Hemple wasn't standing outside, as he had presumably been expecting. "Wait!" he called to the pilot. "I'll get him…"

Becker jumped out of the helicopter, and landed on the concrete, ten feet below.

…

The other helicopter was just taking off as Becker ran up to doorway. He reached for his gun.

The force of the explosion sent him flying off his feet, backwards onto the cement. He looked up as the facility smouldered.

…

From the helicopter, Jenny watched as the flames erupted out of the building. A steel girder flew out of the blast and soared past the helicopter's open door, just missing them. It then plummeted back to the earth, and landed back in the inferno.

Hemple was gone.

XXXX

Captain Christopher Austen paused at the plane's controls to take hold of his lucky rabbit's foot.

"You nervous?" asked his co-pilot, Davenport.

Austen glanced back at the bloodied corpses of their two former comrades. He quickly turned back to the controls. "Bad karma."

Davenport smirked. "So the universe chose to inflict its punishment on them before they even did anything? If so, then fate's a bitch."

They were hurtling over the forest land at the fringes of Miami. They could see the lights of inner city Miami up ahead. That's where they were headed.

Austen put the rabbit's foot away. "You know what BlackSun's done before. They had it coming. Miami would'a been nothing but…" He nudged at the controls. "…another massacre for their collection." He thought. "Feels like we've done a deal with the devil. And it won't end well."

With a crash, something smashed through the cabin door. Austen and Davenport looked around to see one of the prisoners, Richard Levine, hurry into the cockpit.

Austen held onto the controls as Davenport stood up, drew out his pistol and held it at Levine's head. "How the hell did you get out of—"

Levine lowered his head and charged into Davenport's stomach. The co-pilot was cast to the side, and stumbled onto his hands and knees. Levine repositioned and kicked Davenport in the stomach. The co-pilot fell onto his back, and pointed his gun upwards. He fired.

Levine dodged to his right, and took cover behind the corpses of the downed mercenaries.

Davenport got off the floor and paced around the corpses, gun held towards Levine's position.

Levine rose up from the corpses, holding one of the mercs' rifles. He fired off in Davenport's direction, denting a steel cabinet on the other side of the cabin. Either it was only a warning shot, or he had terrible aim.

Davenport fired at Levine's knee, but the scientist got out of the way just in time.

As Davenport fell back and reloaded, Levine hopped around the corpses. The former prisoner held onto the rifle with both hands, and swung it across Davenport's jawline. The co-pilot dropped the gun and the ammo he'd been trying to load. He fell limply to the floor. Out cold.

Austen hurriedly rooted around under the controls for his pistol.

He felt the barrel of the rifle press into his neck.

Austen looked up at Levine. He pulled his pistol up towards him, and cocked it.

Levine held a stony, emotionless face.

He wasn't going to yield.

"Aw, hell." Austen placed the pistol on its side on the controls.

"OK," Levine began. "You're going to leave the reins to me. Take two parachute packs. One for you, one for him." He motioned to Davenport's unconscious figure. "I'll fly the plane outside the city so you both can land safely. Is that alright?"

"Can you actually fly a plane?" Austen asked.

Levine thought for a second. "Yes."

Austen sighed. He grasped his rabbit's foot, and looked to Levine. "Thanks for getting me out of this, man."

…

Levine, now at the controls of the plane, watched the two crew-members evacuate the craft. It was just past midnight, and the sky outside was pitch black. The city of Miami wasn't as well-lit as usual. Instead, the skyline's most striking feature was the smoke rising above the carnage below. But the city would be spared one final blow.

Levine heaved the controls away from the lights, and towards the darkness of the Everglades.

He knew what came next. He didn't want to think about it.

He powered away from habitation, and into the uninhabited wastes of the swampland. He had to get as far away from the city as possible. The mercs would soon be on his tail. This had to be quick.

In the few days after contacting the army, Levine had been put through a brief, intensive crash-course. He'd learned a little bit of survival skills, a little bit of weapon-handling, and a little bit of aircraft-piloting. He knew just enough to fly the craft, and use a few of the weapons. This model wasn't too different to the one he'd practiced on.

Malcolm was out there in the marsh somewhere, cursing Levine. Well, this would be his chance to finally show Malcolm what he could really do.

Eventually, the lights of Miami became a bright blur in the distance behind him. He was far enough.

He tilted the controls downwards. The plane lurched as he sped towards the earth.

It would be over quickly.

Just as he was about to close his eyes, he noticed something on the far horizon.

More lights. Another bright blur.

The Delta air-base.

He quickly pulled the controls back up. He turned slightly, and made straight for the Delta base. He could land the craft there, safely.

As he neared the base, he noticed flashing lights. Sirens seemed to be going off. A few aircraft were taking off and circling the base. But they weren't leaving. In fact, the closer he got, the more it looked like they paying him a lot of attention. Too much attention.

Then he remembered something. This was a BlackSun mercenaryplane.

Levine gulped and headed for the runway. This would be risky. At least he was already prepared to die. As he flew over the concrete, he noticed a few helicopters without US banners on their sides. They bore the BlackSun logo.

He'd flown into the middle of an attack.

The nearest BlackSun helicopter turned to face him. Levine recognised its pilot. It was 'Hudson' from earlier. Hudson looked surprised to see Levine flying the plane. Then his face turned to determination. He fired off two missiles at Levine.

Levine pulled the plane up into the air and dodged the missiles.

Now the Delta planes were encircling him. They were too far away to recognise him. He had to land this plane now.

He powered ahead, and tilted the plane to face straight down the longest runway, which was just over two miles long. He powered ahead, and steadily descended. Small fighter planes hung onto his tail, and fired small projectiles in his direction. He was determined not to hurt the Deltas, and just dodged the rockets.

Then his nemesis arrived from the sky.

Hudson's chopper lowered towards the runway about half-a-mile away from him. It faced straight towards Levine's plane.

Levine held the controls steadily, and felt the wheels hit the tarmac below. He refused to turn away.

Hudson refused to yield.

It was a lethal game of chicken, and one Levine was determined not to lose.

Hudson fired off two warheads. They headed straight towards Levine's cockpit.

Levine got ready to dodge, just in case this next plan didn't work.

He fired off two of his own heat-seekers.

The high-speed projectiles sped into the air. They span around each other, before sensing Hudson's missiles. They changed course, and headed straight for them.

It was a long shot.

The heat-seekers each smashed into their own intended targets, creating a dazzling display of fire in mid-air. Through the display, Levine lost sight of Hudson.

Levine tried to re-focus on the mercenary, but it was no use. The display was too bright, and taking too long to dissipate.

"Hell with it!" he shouted.

He slammed down on every missile deployment button he could find. Dozens of missiles soared forwards, and headed for Hudson's position.

The previous flare-up was nothing compared to what came next.

A colossal explosion lit up the whole night sky. Levine pulled the plane upwards to avoid the fiery inferno. As he lifted over it, the display calmed, and he saw the burning, broken remains of Hudson's plane. Nothing could have survived that.

Two Delta planes overtook him and deployed their own missiles.

Levine heaved the controls right down to the floor, and the plane nosedived downwards. Levine pulled her out of it just in time, and the plane's tyres hit the runway again smoothly. He started easing her down now. The Delta planes had ceased their assault on him, perhaps less aggressive now that he'd just taken out one of the mercenaries.

The plane rolled to a halt. As it stopped, Levine let his head roll back to the headrest. He took a deep breath. It was over. He'd succeeded.

The city was saved.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Life Finds a Way: The BioSyn Incident - Act 3

Fri, 24 Dec 2010 12:25:22 GMT

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The Battle of Miami Beach – Part One

7th Special Forces/United States Air Force Base, Florida – 06:00 a.m.

The Everglades Air Force Base was buzzing with activity. Colonel Bill Hopper was ready to greet the long-awaited arrival of the ARC Regiment.

He stood outside the first B-52 hangar with Major Powers, a 1st Cavalry Officer and the two USAF officers.

Hopper had his sunglasses on. It was a bright start to the morning.

…

The Hercules transport airplane was at least a mile away from the air base when it was met by an Apache gunship-helicopter.

"Looks like we've got an escort," chuckled the pilot of the transport plane.

Lieutenant Clarke hadn't been able to sleep on the flight over, being the mission's commanding officer. The men had been able to rest well, and were now preparing themselves for the task ahead. Clarke stood up and leaned into the cockpit, between the pilot and his co-pilot.

The pilot was greeted over the intercom by a friendly American voice. "This is Tomahawk one-one-three-eight of the 1st Cavalry Platoon, Delta. Welcome to the Everglades Air Force Base."

The pilot smiled, looking at the Apache gunship that now hovered in front of them. He pressed a button on the intercom. "This is Captain Gates. We are not far from the Everglades Air Force Base. The squad leader is advised to do an inventory check with his squad, thank you."

"Alright lads, you heard the Captain." Clarke turned back to his troops. "Unbuckle and psych yourselves up. I want you each to do a quick inventory check."

…

Back on the ground, Hopper smiled when he heard the familiar sound of rotary aircraft behind him. This was it. This was what NATO, the US Government and the British Government had been building up to. A collaboration, on, or over, US soil.

The C-130 transport plane, with its helicopter escort, flew straight over the runway. The blast of air almost blew the officers off their feet.

The aircraft flew over to the end of the runway, the Black Hawk helicopters split off from the airplane, and landed in the helicopter park. The Apache gunship remained in front of the C-130 until it started its descent onto the runway.

…

The ARC troops inside the fuselage were sat back down in their seats, their weapons clutched tightly against their chests. They heard the hydraulics whine as the wheels un-tucked. The tires screeched and smoked as the aircraft reached the ground. The interior of the fuselage rumbled. The aircraft started to slow down. The propellers on the Hercules started to wind down. The airplane was then directed to an open bay by an aircraft handler.

The engines turned off and the back of the fuselage opened, revealing Lieutenant Owen Clarke and his twenty-man-squad. They stepped off the airplane and were greeted by Hopper.

"Welcome to the Everglades Air Force Base, Lieutenant Clarke," Hopper said with a smile. "It's been a long time coming."

The team saluted Hopper. For the time being, they were temporarily under his command.

"At ease," Hopper told them. "Now, let's get down to business…"

…

While Clarke's squad got acquainted with the Deltas at the dining hangar, the Lieutenant was with Colonel Hopper, in his office, discussing the upcoming procedure.

"We've got a hitch in our operation," said Hopper.

"Do tell…" Clarke leaned forward in his chair.

Hopper explained. "One of our recon choppers, flying over the city of Miami, took pictures of seven of these things."

Hopper handed Clarke the pictures. Clarke raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Pterosaurs."

"They've settled on the BioSyn HQ. Quite fitting really. Their nest – the building – is situated right next to South Beach." Hopper pointed to the top of a building, on one of the photographs. A pterosaur-like shape was resting there. "I have dispatched Alpha and Gamma squads. They've take over from the 117th Home Defence Battalion, who are now just assisting the emergency services along the barricades."

"I think my team should get down there as soon as possible," Clarke suggested.

"I will inform Major Waters on your arrival, now."

"That's good. But we need complete control of the situation."

"As in… You and your team?" Hopper asked sceptically.

"Well, seeing as me and my team has past experience in this field…" Clarke sat back in his chair.

"Not a chance, my friend. We've got enough Special Forces in the area, I don't need another squad filling up the streets."

"Okay then. I'll get three of my lads ready for briefing and mobilization."

XXXX

Miami Beach – 08:00 A.M.

South Beach was virtually deserted. It looked like a scene from a zombie-horror, cars abandoned in the middle of the road, vacated shops and businesses.

Soldiers surrounded every entrance to the BioSyn HQ, an imposing tall glass building with steel framework. Ahead of the BioSyn headquarters, opposite a hotel, was one of six police and fire department barricades.

…

Major Powers scanned the building up and down. The senior officer was in his late forties. Army through and through, clean shaven with a crew cut, the stress of combat failed to get to him, but it was evident in his grey hair and rough looks. Like most veterans he came with the 'thousand yard stare', brought on through combat.

At the moment the officer was in charge of Alpha and Gamma squads. Like Hopper, and any other sensible person, Powers didn't want the situation getting out of hand, but he was usually the man to turn to once something goes out of hand.

Powers stood outside a Black Hawk helicopter that was situated between two parking lots in Collins Avenue. He had a good view of the staircase that led to the entrance of the HQ.

"Major Powers, sir." A voice came from behind the officer.

Powers turned around, and saw Sergeant Major Conlin, sitting in the fuselage by the cockpit entrance, holding a handset.

"It's Colonel Hopper," he said.

Powers clambered into the fuselage of the helicopter, he held out his right hand, "Give it to me, Conlin."

Conlin complied and passed the handset over to the Major.

"Colonel Hopper?" Powers spoke into the handset as he sat down opposite Conlin.

"Powers, the ARC regiment are on their way over to South Beach for back up, they're lead by a Lieutenant Owen Clarke."

"Understood, sir. Over."

Powers heard Hopper click the radio off. He passed the handset over to the Black Hawk pilot. The Major sighed. He hopped off the Black Hawk.

Powers walked to the centre of the South Pointe Drive intersection. He faced toward the barricade set up by the 1st Cavalry infantry platoon, another group under his command. They occupied the intersection that connected South Pointe Drive to Washington Avenue.

The officer heard the high pitched rattle of a nearby helicopter. It was the familiar sound of an MH-6 Little Bird (a light transport helicopter). He saw the helicopter making its way down past the barricade. The helicopter slowly hovered toward the intersection.

The helicopter set down at the Collins Avenue intersection. The rotors on the small helicopter continued to spin as four men hopped off and ducked their heads as they jogged toward Major Powers, avoiding the spinning rotors. The small helicopter ascended, tipping forward slightly. It turned back facing the barricade and departed back to the Air Force base.

Three soldiers stood in a line, behind their squad leader.

"Major Powers?" the squad leader asked.

"Yes..." Power's looked at the leader's rank designation patch on the centre of his jacket, "…Lieutenant Owen Clarke." Powers said.

Clarke saluted. "It's a pleasure to meet you sir."

"Likewise." Powers said, coldly.

…

Everglades: Land of Time, Bunker – 09:00 A.M.

The three hundred replicated men were still standing completely stationary on the floor beneath the balcony. Hemple, Campbell, Levine and Mason moved briskly away, to avoid being seen. They came to a meeting point of several wide tunnels, all of which were littered with large cages.

"There must be some kind of cargo transport down here," Levine suggested.

"Look there." Hemple pointed to a notice. "It looks like they've got a tram-link here."

"Any chance it'll take us somewhere else in the park?" Mason looked to Hemple for support.

"Best to check it out anyway," the Captain replied. "Let's move before they find us."

The four men followed the notice. The whole passage had a complete lack of lighting except for the bright light shining in from the arena. They still relied on Hemple's torchlight. After a few minutes of walking, they reached the empty platform.

"There's a time table here," Levine pointed out. "What's the time?" He turned to Campbell, who was wearing a silver watch.

Campbell checked his watch. "It's already ten minutes to."

"Okay, we have five minutes till the next one comes from… Miami!" Levine frowned.

Hemple peered around the platform's exit. Silhouettes of the replicas appeared one by one. "Oh shit!" He retreated back to the group "We can't turn back now. We'll have hold off the replicas till the tram arrives."

The sound of three hundred footsteps got closer and closer to the platform.

This was going to be bad.

Fortunately though the tram had finally arrived.

Its headlights illuminated the tunnel as it slowly moved toward the platform. It came to a stop. The tram had a single carriage, which was blue and white.

"Everybody get on." Hemple whispered clearly to the others.

"Five minutes to departure," the tram's computer blared, as they all entered the carriage.

"Mason stay with Levine. Campbell you're with me." Hemple continued to whisper.

Levine and Mason cautiously stalked their way to the far end of the tram.

"Do they know where we are?" Levine looked at Mason.

Mason and Levine quickly snapped their heads to their right. A small cylindrical object had audibly rolled into the carriage.

"Stun grenade. Get down!" Mason turned away from the grenade and covered his ears.

BANG!

After the white flash faded a hail of bullets tore through the carriage.

"Levine stay down!" Mason jumped up to face the attackers through the shattered carriage window, and fired off a few rounds from his pistol. "Levine, cover me. I'm reloading." Mason turned to Levine.

"O-Okay." Levine fired his pistol haphazardly, taking down a couple of replicas.

At the front of the carriage Hemple fired off a few shots from the revolver. Only a few of the replicas were downed. He reloaded the revolver as Campbell covered for him.

Five replicas fell from his rifle shots.

"Campbell, we're no good bunched together," Hemple said. "I'll take cover around the middle entrance. Cover me!" Hemple ran to the centre of the tram, keeping his head down.

He slid towards the cover of a seat and resumed to shoot at the attackers.

"Please stand clear of the closing doors," the tram computer advised.

The doors slid shut. The tram, still being peppered with bullets, started off towards its destination. Eventually, the replica-infested platform disappeared from their view, and was replaced with the walls of the tram-tunnel. They were away. Hemple rested against the tram door. He surveyed the carriage.

"Is everybody okay?" Hemple winced as he stood up. He placed his left hand on his right shoulder. He looked to his left and saw Campbell resting on a seat, or what was left of it. He looked to his right and saw Levine sitting on the floor, looking shell shocked. And finally he saw Mason taking Levine's pistol and heading towards Hemple.

"You got hit. Sit down, I'll find a first aid kit for you," Mason advised Hemple.

…

Miami Beach - 09:15 A.M.

Powers and Clarke sat in the shade of the Black Hawk fuselage. The US Army officer briefed Clarke on the current situation.

"Right… We have a sharpshooter, from Beta Squad, on the forty-fourth floor of the HQ. He's been on standby, waiting for 'experts'." Powers said.

"That's good, sir. I'll send up Private Peterson, to help him."

"Our recon helicopter has reported that the pterosaurs are still on the roof."

"That's good, and bad…" Clarke looked at the ground.

"Oh?" Clarke had intrigued Powers.

"This could mean that they're nesting. We will have to be extra careful."

"Or we can arrange a kidnapping." Powers smiled and hopped off the fuselage.

"Uhm… What do you mean?" Clarke asked, concerned that he may be dealing with an insane officer.

"All animals are protective of their young, right?" Powers folded his hands behind his back, "So, an animal will do whatever it takes to pursue their young."

"I see what you're getting at, it's a good idea, but it's a big risk."

"We're going to need a Black Hawk, and smoke grenades." Powers turned around not paying attention to Clarke.

"Sir, we're here as advisors. What good are my team and I if you're not going to take our advice?"

Still ignoring Clarke, Powers removed a map from his pocket. He unfolded and revealed a map of the Florida coast. He pressed the map against the window of a small civilian car.

"Right, I'm very confident that they are nesting. So here's my plan," Powers started, "Corporal Sanderson, my sniper, will go with one of your soldiers to the roof, they'll locate the egg for us. If there is an egg, they radio in for my Black Hawk to pick them up along with the egg. With any luck the helicopter should temporarily scatter them."

"And then they'll re-group and pursue the helicopter…" Clarke interjected.

Powers looked at Clarke, "Yes, if we're lucky they'll follow us to Key Biscayne," Powers moved his finger from South Beach and circled the archipelago with it, "there is a patch of uninhabited ground there. We can get them down like that."

Clarke sighed, "It's a dangerous bet, sir…"

"Major Powers!" Conlin ran over toward the two officers from the helicopter.

"What is it Sergeant Major?"

"We've just been alerted by the Kiowa, they've spotted six CH-53E helicopters sir."

"Marine Corps?" Powers asked.

"No Major, it's private military."

"Call base, send in for backup." Powers then looked at Clarke. "We're going to have to hurry this up. Send one of your men up now."

Clarke nodded.

An ARC Regiment Private entered the reception of the Biosyn HQ. His black combats where mismatched to the all-white room. The clinical feel struck him, it looked and smelled like a hospital. The desk was between two doors, the left being the stair access and the right which lead to six lifts. The soldier took the lift hall. He pressed the button on the lift nearest the entrance.

The lift on the left at the far end opened. The soldier entered the lift.

"Forty-fourth floor." The soldier said to himself as pressed the button for that floor. The doors slid shut and the lift started its ascent.

The lift arrived at the forty-fourth floor, the doors slid open and the soldier exited the lift.

As he entered the open office he was greeted by a Delta Force soldier.

"Hey there, you must be the SAS guy right? The name is Corporal Sanderson." Sanderson held out his right hand.

"Private Peterson." The soldier smiled and shook hands with the Corporal. "You're aware of our objective?"

"Yep, steal an egg that's probably not there. Let's get down to business then." Sanderson stopped shaking Peterson's hand and led the soldier to the roof access.

"Unfortunately there's no time to get properly acquainted," Sanderson stood on top of a desk. "We've got orders to hurry the hell up." He pulled a ceiling panel down. "I don't know how the hell we're going to do this, but Powers has always been a bit of an asshole."

Sanderson pushed another panel open, and natural light flooded into the artificially lit office. He placed his index finger over his lips, indicating to be quiet. The Corporal then pushed himself up through the square passage onto the roof. Peterson followed after him.

The duo was presented by a maze of air con units. They saw six of the seven pterosaurs perched on top of the units.

"Okay. We'll move into the AC units, it's tight enough for us two to get into." Sanderson whispered.

Sanderson led the way, they quietly moved across the pebble covered roof toward the centre, into the maze of air-conditioning units and piping. The pterosaurs made low pitched growls as they sunned themselves.

Sanderson and Clarke popped their heads up to get a better view of the tops of the air-con units. It felt like a game of whack-a-mole.

After what felt like an eternity Peterson shook Sanderson's shoulder.

"It looks like Powers was right." He whispered as he indicated to Sanderson an egg shaped like a soccer ball which was nestled in the pebble floor on the west-facing side of the roof.

They worked their way through the obstacle course of pipes. They finally reached the edge of the maze. The two men were just ten feet away from their prize, all they had to do now was figure out how to get it.

"Right… Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Sanderson looked at Peterson.

"Whatever it is I have a bad feeling about it…"

"We snatch the egg, right in front of her. I'll take the egg, we'll take cover back here and work our way toward the pick up zone."

"I'll go, Corporal, I know how to handle these things." Peterson sighed.

"Okay then, I'll cover you."

Peterson pushed himself backward and forward, psyching himself up.

He leapt out of the cover of the air-con units and sprinted toward the female pterosaur.

From Sanderson's point of view it all happened in a flash. The last thing he saw was Peterson charging the pterosaur, it screeching at him.

Then there was a deafening orgy of screaming and squawking. The Private screamed as he was pulled into the sky by another, larger pterosaur. The other pterosaurs followed the bigger one, excluding the female standing sentry at the egg. He saw Peterson clutched in the big pterosaur's feet, and he tracked it turning South.

LaPetersonurel was still screaming until he was finally dropped from the clutch of the pterosaur.

Sanderson saw the body free-fall. It then disappeared out of his view. The silence punctuated by a sickening crash and the faint sound of a car alarm.

Sanderson looked down in dread.

He returned his focus to getting the egg from the pterosaur. He wanted to get it before the others returned.

The soldier was surprised as he saw the female pterosaur's devotion toward that single egg.

He did the same procedure as what Peterson had almost accomplished.

He sprinted toward the pterosaur and slid beneath her, grabbing the egg.

She leapt toward him. She missed her aggressor.

Sanderson ran back into the safety of the air-con.

The Corporal removed the walkie-talkie from his left shoulder.

"Major Powers! Major Powers! Come in sir!" Sanderson shouted in to his walkie, out of breath.

The radio crackled, "Corp… …derson… …onfirm… …have… …arget…"

"I have the egg!" Sanderson said, still out of breath. He ignored the static interference but at the same time he hoped the person on the other side could hear him, he didn't know who it was on the other end. He just wanted to get out of there.

"…oger tha… …ispatching… …airlift."

Sanderson sighed with relief.

The sound of a helicopter almost muted the air-conditioning. Sanderson smiled and ran out of cover to receive the greeting of the Black Hawk helicopter.

He stopped at the north facing section of the roof. He grinned as he saw the helicopter inching closer and closer to the roof until it was over the pebble floor. It was three feet above the ground.

Sanderson sat in the seat nearest the edge, still clutching on to the egg.

The helicopter edged away from the roof. It started on its way to Key Biscayne.

Sanderson looked out to the roof. The female pterosaur had disappeared.

Out of nowhere the big pterosaur swooped down onto the helicopter's right flank.

The helicopter was jolted by the weight of the pterosaur. A Delta Force soldier was knocked out of the left flank. He hung on to the fuselage floor for his life.

Sanderson watched the soldier hanging from the helicopter. He couldn't help the man as he was clutching the egg and holding on for his own life.

The large pterosaur fit its head through the fuselage and snapped at the Corporal.

Screw the mission!

The Corporal let the egg go. The spherical object fell down into a body of water. Sanderson soon realised how far up he was, and how far the helicopter had been pushed out of the pilot's control.

The moment was surround in muffled rumbling. It was all he could hear among the chaos.

Sanderson loosened his seat belt. He almost fell out. He held on tight to anything that he could get a good grip of.

He held his hand out to his comrade.

"Come on!"

The soldier held on to his hand. Then there was another jolt. Sanderson lost his grip of the soldier, he watched him plummet to the water. He saw three clawed fingers grip on to the rim of the fuselage.

"We're going down!"

The last words he heard from both pilot and co-pilot.

The rumbling slowly faded into reality, first the alarm that warned of 'stalling', the chopping propellers and that God-awful squawking.

The last thing Sanderson would see were the docks of the marina. He felt the wind on his face as the force of the plummeting helicopter had caused him to lose his grip on whatever support he had.

From forty feet Sanderson hit walkway of the marina, back first.

The transport helicopter crashed into the marina, taking several boats and the central walkway down with it into the water.

Sanderson's vision went blurry. He felt warm liquid gushing from the back of his skull, his ears and his nose. His eyelids closed. He exhaled his final breath.

…

Miami Beach – 10:45 AM

"Oh God…" Major Powers was by his helicopter as he saw the other Black Hawk that carried Sanderson, spin out of control and disappear out of view.

He didn't do anything. He just stood there, right by his helicopter. He thought to himself that all his life the men under his command had never suffered a casualty.

But today…

…

Clarke and Conlin stood in front of the Major, who had now sought the solace of the fuselage of his Black Hawk. Powers was completely silent.

"Major," Clarke began, "I know the feeling of losing men, but you can't let this get to you now."

"Sir," Conlin came in "The private military—."

The deafening rumble of six large helicopters interrupted Conlin.

The three men left the fuselage, and looked up. The six large transport helicopters were just over a hundred feet in the air. For ten minutes they circled the BioSyn HQ. Five of the large helicopters disappeared behind the canopy which hid South Beach.

The last one set down in front of the HQ, blocking the view of the entrance, the propellers still spinning.

Clarke, Powers and Conlin stood in front of their own Black Hawk.

The cockpit door of the Black Hawk helicopter opened. The pilot stepped out.

"What the hell is going on!" the pilot asked.

"A stand-off, I suppose..." Clarke shrugged, still focusing on the large CH-53 helicopter.

The propellers slowed down and finally stopped. There was an unsettling feel in the atmosphere.

Who should make the move? Are they friendly? Thoughts like these raced through Clarke's mind.

Powers' radio crackled, "Major Powers, do you copy?"

It was Sergeant Major Jackson.

"Major Powers!"

The officer snapped out of his daze. "Uh… Jackson, report."

"We've got five private military helicopters, 'BlackSun'. It looks like their choppers are —"

The focus of the three men, and the two pilots, was turned to the beach as the zipping sound of a chain gun caught their attention. Then they heard gun fire being returned.

"I think we should seek adequate cover…" Clarke said as he slowly moved to the entrance of a car park.

The slow move that Clarke had made broke into a sprint, quickly followed by Powers and Conlin and the two pilots, as the chain gun from the other helicopter let rip, tearing apart the tail of the Black Hawk.

The five men took cover behind a 4x4. Clarke peaked over the roof. He saw the ramp of the helicopter open in two rows of men in black jumpsuits, with no armour whatsoever, left the helicopter's fuselage.

Clarke quickly ducked down.

"Oh God!" one pilot screamed.

"What is it?" Clarke moved over to the pilots who were beside a people carrier.

The pilot revealed his wounds. The shots from the chain-gun had torn through his thighs.

"Oh Jesus…" Clarke growled.

Beside the pilot the co-pilot lay propped up against the people carrier, next to the pilot. He suffered the same wounds.

"Conlin!" Clarke shouted.

The Sergeant Major peered around Major Powers.

"Yes, sir?"

"I need you to tend to the pilots," Clarke said, breathing heavily, adrenaline rushing through him.

"Good thing I'm squad medic. Major, take my M4." He handed Powers his assault rifle.

"If you have an under slung grenade launcher use it now." Clarke said as he fished a 40mm round from his utility belt and slipped it into his grenade launcher attachment.

"I've got one." Powers replied, quickly fishing for a round himself.

Clarke popped out of cover and shot a round into the stream of men. Ten bodies at least flew into the air. This caused little damage to the helicopter, though.

It dropped off its payload. Roughly fifty men lined the streets. They all fired their assault rifles into the car park.

Powers came out of cover and launched the volatile 40mm round into a car where some of the attackers sought cover.

The round hit the car, creating a fiery mess.

Clarke then came out of cover and started taking shots at the aggressors, he was followed by Powers.

He saw the CH-53 already in mid take off.

There was a loud screech, then a black cylindrical object shot through the centre of the propeller.

BOOM!

The helicopter was torn apart by the rocket. The explosion, and the shrapnel spread by the shock wave, took down a large portion of the attackers.

A Hellfire rocket… It looks like someone is watching over us… Clarke thought.

"Conlin! Get to the minigun and take care of those attackers." Clarke ordered. He looked to Major Powers for his permission. The senior officer nodded.

"I just need to…" Conlin adjusted the bandage and dressing on the co-pilot's thighs, "There! Okay I'm on my way!"

Conlin ran in to the fuselage ducking his head as bullets flew past him.

He pulled back the cocking handle of the chain gun. It took the barrel a few seconds to actually start firing, but it felt like an eternity for Conlin as he became the focus of the mercenaries' gunfire.

He finally let rip on the mercenaries. The explosive rounds from the Black Hawk's chain-gun had turned the attackers into minced meat.

…

Biosyn HQ, Basement, Miami Beach - 10:45 A.M.

The tram slowed down and rolled to a stop at the platform. It jolted a tad. The doors slid open and the four men stepped out, each with their weapons raised at the open corridor that lay before them. Campbell with his Mosin Nagant rifle, Hemple with the silver revolver, Mason with the Desert Eagle pistol, and Levine with the Sig Sauer. At the end of the empty corridor was a cargo lift.

"Alright, this section's clear," Hemple whispered. "Move to the cargo lift."

They reached the cargo lift. The large, blue doors were closed, so the elevator was at another floor. Campbell pressed the silver button to the right hand side of the doors. They heard the echoing of hydraulics from above, as the lift car descended.

"Hemple, once we get up top… What do we do?" Levine asked Hemple.

"I don't know…" Hemple looked down to the floor, and then back at Levine.

The lift car rested as it reached their level. The four men raised their guns again in anticipation of what could lie beyond those doors.

The doors opened.

Nothing.

With an audible sigh, they entered the wide lift car. The doors shut behind them. The lift juddered, and then pushed up. Sub-Level 3 soon became Sub-Level 2. They kept ascending.

The cargo lift stopped. It had finally reached Sub-Level 1.

The large doors opened up behind them, revealing a long corridor. They moved briskly down the hall until they reached a stairwell, on which they trained their weapons. They moved up the stairs, until the stopped at a blue door. Mason pushed the door open they were greeted by the all-white reception of the BioSyn HQ.

There was a muffled sound of gun fire, followed by an explosion, then a helicopter preparing for take-off.

The four men moved to the large doors. Mason pushed them open. The natural light almost blinded them and their ears were greeted with loud pops of gun fire. The entrance took them to a walkway. To their right was a gated staircase, which undoubtedly led to the streets.

They saw a large military transport helicopter. It rose from a line of trees that hid the street from their view. The large helicopter was steel grey with black text on its fuselage, which read 'BlackSun'. Next to the title it bore a large black circle, with black stripes shooting out from the circle, literalising the company title.

The four men heard a screech, they winced as they heard a deafening explosion. The trees where forced back from the blast, while Hemple and the others felt a burst of wind.

They all saw sunlight bouncing off an unmanned aerial vehicle. The smoke from the smouldering wreckage quickly obscured the view of the aircraft.

As they carefully made their way down the stairs they saw the mercenaries firing into a car park, with gun fire being returned at them. The sound of gun fire was also heard coming from the beach.

This battle has just started.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Forty

The Battle of Miami Beach - Part Two

Miami Beach, Collins Avenue Intersection – 10:50 A.M.

The last of the mercenaries was cut down by a precision shot to the head from Clarke's G-36.

He sighed with relief. It was not over yet though.

"Lieutenant!" a call from Conlin echoed through the empty street.

Clarke ran over to the Black Hawk. He clambered into the fuselage and moved to the cockpit entrance. He saw that Conlin had now sat himself in the pilot's seat of the helicopter.

"What is it Conlin?" Clarke leaned into the cockpit.

"I just got confirmation from Hopper that the Hellfire round that took out the helicopter was from a UAV."

Clarke looked back at the tree line.

"I need to get to the beach and give the lads some support." He said, stepping out of the fuselage. "Remain in contact with Hopper, and see if he can get that UAV over the beach!" Clarke added as he was half way down the road to the beach.

"I'll do what I can!" Conlin shouted back.

…

Miami Beach - 10:50 A.M.

The edge of South Beach was lined with the BlackSun helicopters, five in a row. The beach itself was deserted. Deckchairs and beach towels were strewn all over the sandy dunes of the beach.

Jackson's men were whittled down to a squad of five. They were the lucky ones that found cover during the chain-gun assault.

The men had remained hidden in a partially chopped-down tree line. They dared not move, only firing back at the helicopter when they spotted and retrieved their wounded.

Jackson's radio crackled, and Clarke's voice came through.

"Sergeant Major, we have a UAV in the air. I'm on my way to your position."

"Roger that," Jackson responded.

It was only a matter of seconds before Clarke appeared at Jackson's side.

"Sergeant Major," Clarke whispered.

"Clarke." Jackson nodded.

"We've been keeping an eye on them… They're not going to move, unless we're all dead." Jackson concluded, focusing on the helicopter.

Clarke's radio crackled, "Lieutenant Clarke. Lieutenant Clarke?" a voice said.

"This is Clarke, over." He spoke into his radio.

"This is Reaper-Oh-Nine. I have visual on the five CH-53s. I need you to confirm you can see them, over."

"Roger that." Clarke turned to Jackson, "Sergeant Major, do you have any smoke grenades?"

"Right here..." Jackson replied, as he unhooked the tube-like grenade.

"Reaper-Oh-Nine, we have a smoke grenade. Will it do?" Clarke asked, speaking into his walkie.

"Roger that, Lieutenant."

"Right, there will be smoke rising from around the CH-53 nearest the entrance to the beach, this danger close, over."

"Throw when ready," the controller responded.

Clarke nodded to Jackson. Jackson pulled the pin out and tossed the grenade towards the fuselage of the helicopter.

The grenade bounced along the sand until it rolled underneath the helicopter.

"Fall back!" Clarke shouted.

The rear ramp of the helicopter lowered, just as the smoke poured from the grenade. Purple smoke drifted from underneath the fuselage.

"Standby, firing Hellfire." The controller of the UAV said.

The familiar screech was heard, and then a deafening blast as the CH-53 erupted into an explosion, blowing sand and debris over a wide radius.

Clarke and the others fell back to a brick laid path. They shielded their eyes as the sand and grit was chucked about through the air.

Once the dust had settled, Clarke lifted his head and tried to get his bearings. "Is everybody okay?" he said, spluttering the dust out of his lungs.

The soldier's eyes streamed, his vision went blurry. A soldier, maybe Jackson, walked up to him and patted him on his right shoulder.

"You okay?" Jackson asked.

Clarke nodded, then he sneezed.

"Gesundheit." Jackson laughed.

Clarke squinted. From the distance, a hundred metres away from the squad, he saw men in black jumpsuits running toward them.

Red dust shot up from the brick laid ground. The sound of gunfire came from those men in the jumpsuits.

"Get down!" Jackson shouted. Two of the allied soldiers were struck down by the gun fire, leaving only Private Stone, Sergeant Major Jackson, Lieutenant Clarke and an ARC Regiment Corporal.

The ARC Corporal got down on his belly. He set up his bipod-mounted FN MAG machine gun on ground.

His right hand held on to the pistol grip, his left hand supported the belt fed 7.62mm rounds. He let rip. His bullets peppered the charge of the mercenaries. The 7.62 rounds scattered into the air knocking some of the aggressors down.

Another set of mercenaries poured in from the tree line. They provided cover for a group of mercs that had managed to reach an avenue leading to the BioSyn HQ.

The heavy gunner that lay in front of Stone, Jackson and Clarke was shot through the head by an aggressor's bullet as an endless wave of mercenaries overwhelmed the three men.

Clarke slung his G-36 over his back. He pushed the dead Corporal aside and started making use of the machine gun, still cutting them down.

…

Miami Beach, Collins Avenue Intersection – 11:20 A.M.

Conlin and Powers stood outside the Black Hawk, keeping sentry. The temptation to abandon the site and help Clarke was strong.

Conlin's radio crackled, "Conlin! Sergeant Major Conlin!" Jackson shouted out on the other end.

"Jackson, what the hell is going on down there?" Conlin replied.

"We are pinned down by some mercs. It looks like they were protecting a squad of theirs to get down an avenue that leads to One-Forty-Four Collins Avenue. I don't know what they're doing but you got to stop them, over!"

"Roger that." Conlin said. Beads of sweat ran down his face. His heart felt like it was beating a mile a second. "Major Powers, let's go."

The two men ran towards One-Eighty-Eight South Pointe Drive. Both stopped and sought cover behind a shot-up car, the heat from the burning mass of CH-53 wreckage beating down on their backs.

Conlin ignored the flies that accumulated around the dead mercs.

"Hey!" a male British voice shouted out behind them.

Powers looked back. It was a group of four civilians. "Get back behind the barricade!" Powers shouted at them.

They all ran over to Powers' side, behind the wreckage. "I'm Captain Hemple, ARC Regiment," said the first one. He drew out an antique silver revolver from his pocket. Now that Powers saw them better, he noticed that the rest of them were armed too. One of them was dressed in a khaki uniform, and carried a Nagant rifle. He must have been a Land of Time keeper.

As if this day wasn't confusing enough already.

"We need to protect this HQ from the mercs!" Conlin shouted.

Hemple peeked over the car and ducked down again. "Right, you got four of them, two with rapid firing grenade launchers and the other two with basic assault rifles. We should fall back to the HQ. I reckon that's where they're headed." The officer ran out of breath as he spoke.

"And if they're not?" Conlin asked.

"They will be." Hemple reassured. "Right. Levine, Campbell," he said, addressing the keeper and another man in civvies, "take cover in that helicopter, we'll cover you on your way there."

The two men nodded.

"Go, go!" Hemple shouted.

The two men sprinted toward the helicopter, Hemple and the others fired off their guns, they took two mercenaries down, before a volley of grenade launcher rounds sent Conlin flying into the air.

"Conlin!" Powers shouted out.

"Get back to cover!" Hemple shouted.

Powers rushed over to Conlin, he was still breathing. Powers saw bits of shrapnel and grit cut into Conlin's shins.

"You're going to be okay," Powers reassured Conlin. He wished he believed that.

The Major slung his M4 carbine over his back, hooked his arms under Conlin's, and started dragging him toward the Black Hawk chopper.

…

Hemple and Mason covered the officer. They took out the second enemy rifleman. The Captain then patted Mason on the shoulder. "Fall back to the reception!"

Mason complied. He turned his back on the shooters and ran to the stair case with Hemple.

Mason was the last one in the reception; Hemple had already sought cover behind the desk.

As soon as the soldier heard the main door open he spun around. He was greeted with a shot from the mercenary's assault rifle. It missed him by an inch. He fired shots from his pistol at the grenadier.

A fire fight erupted in the reception. The grenadier slung his grenade launcher over his shoulder and drew a small UZI 9mm.

"Fall back!" Hemple shouted as the 9mm rounds smashed up the desk. Both men ran from cover and retreated back to the staircase, which was behind the blue door.

Mason shut the door against the mercenaries. Bullets from the pistol raised dents into the door. The two men retreated down the stairs.

…

From the fuselage Levine saw Powers dragging Conlin away. Campbell, from a vantage point in the fuselage, covered the Major with his rifle. Levine hopped off the fuselage and helped Powers take Conlin into helicopter.

…

"You're going to be okay!" Powers repeated.

Both men laid Conlin onto a row of seats in the fuselage. Powers opened a first aid kit near the entrance to the cockpit. Something was leaking out of the box. He grabbed the bandages, which were soaked with what smelled like antiseptic.

Powers looked at the clear antiseptic bottle. Floating in the antiseptic was a lead 5.56mm bullet. The antiseptic was probably already contaminated by the shot.

"Nice to see you composed again, Major," Conlin said, faintly laughing under the searing pain in his shinbones.

Powers returned to Conlin's side. "First aid kit is shot up. You're just going to have to hold out till the medevac gets here."

"No problem sir." Conlin repositioned himself from lying down to sitting down on the seating.

Powers looked out of the fuselage. He saw the sunlight bouncing off a UAV – a small, unmanned, radio-controlled plane. It turned around, heading back west to the Air Force base.

"We're on our own again…" Powers said to himself.

"Major Powers! Major Powers!" A distant voice called out.

"That sounds like Clarke…" Powers hopped out of the fuselage.

Powers looked through a set of binoculars. He saw Clarke, Stone and Jackson, running – falling back – from an overwhelming enemy. Trailing the trio were the mercenaries.

"Shit," Powers muttered under his breath. "Rifleman!" he pointed to Campbell, who was leaning against a lamp post just outside. "See if you can take down those shooters following our guys!"

Campbell – visibly reluctantly – did as he was told.

…

Stone spluttered as he tried to keep up with Clarke and Jackson. The heat he had soaked up and the dust he swallowed wore him down. He heard the bullets zip past his ears, some striking the road and bursting the tires of the vehicles around him.

Every second he heard a bullet striking an object he laughed inside at the fact that he was coming so close to death, he felt as if he was the main character in an action movie that had the screen writer smiling upon him, like some sort of deity.

The worst thing Stone did was that he looked back. He saw them, the mercenaries. This raised so many questions in his head.

BOOM!

A big explosion sent Stone flying, what felt like a hundred feet, into the sky. For a brief moment he saw Clarke and Jackson lying on the floor covering their heads.

Then he felt himself smash through the back window of a 4x4.

…

Collins Avenue Intersection, Miami Beach – 12:45 P.M.

Stone's eyes flitted open for a second. He caught a glimpse of a medic standing over him on his left. Just as his eyes closed again, he heard the medic speak. "… and we've secured the bodies from the crash marina."

There was a faint echo in his hearing. He wrenched his eyes open again and looked to his left. Stone saw Powers nodding. Powers then noticed Stone was awake.

"You're one lucky son-of-a-gun." The officer smiled. "Prepare him for medevac."

Powers walked away, rifle in hand. Stone's eyes followed him, looking past the medic. He still couldn't quite make out where he was, but it was bright. The major joined an entire squad of blurry figures, engaged in what sounded unmistakeably like a fire-fight. Stone's hearing was muffled but he could make out the popping of firearms.

His eyes closed as he was placed on a stretcher. Once they'd opened again, he found himself inside the fuselage of a Black Hawk helicopter. Next to him was Conlin, and sitting opposite were two pilots with bloody thighs. Then his eyes closed again.

XXXX

Members of the ARC Regiment and 1st Cavalry Infantry had populated the streets. While still outnumbered by the hundreds of mercenaries, it was becoming clear that they had a more tactical approach to the battle than their adversaries, who were relying on brute force alone.

A Chinook, a heavy transport helicopter, hovered over the beach, keeping the mercenaries pinned down on South Pointe Drive. It occasionally sprayed a hail of bullets into the tree line.

Along Ocean Drive an Apache Gunship posed sentry, preventing the mercs from using the street as an escape root.

Along South Beach, Beta squad secured and apprehended the pilots of the BlackSun helicopters, while the squad's fire team kept the mercenaries from falling back to One-Forty-Four Collins Avenue.

…

"It's as if they want to be shot!" Clarke shouted amongst the gun fire. He was packed tightly between one of his ARC machine gunners and a 1st Cavalry soldier.

Another 1st Cavalry Infantryman shoved between the ARC soldier and Clarke. He revealed a LAW (Light Anti-armour Weapon) rocket launcher. It was three feet long but only weighed two and a half kilograms.

"Get down!" the American soldier shouted he aimed at a truck, where most of the mercenaries had sought cover, and pressed a little button on top of the launcher, firing off a 66 millimetre rocket into the vehicle.

A deafening roar filled their ears. The fact that Clarke had plugged his ears just in time didn't help stop the ringing of a million bells. I should be deaf by now… Clarke thought, as he removed his fingers.

Everything went quiet. A few pops and clattering from the fire team. But that too soon ended.

Clarke indicated to the machine gunner and the two 1st Cavalry soldiers to follow him.

"Tomahawk, what do you see?" Clarke spoke through his walkie to the Apache gunship.

The response was met with some interference from radio crackle, "Lots of… oke… Block… view… I can make out some… odies."

"Say that again, Tomahawk?" Clarke requested.

"I can make out some bodies," Tomahawk began, the frequency sounding clearer this time. "We've got a mover… Not much left of him though…"

"Give us his position." Clarke spoke louder this time as he and the squad got closer to the helicopters.

"He's by a red car nearest the turnabout. It looks like the chain-gun from the Chinook got him."

"Roger that." Clarke said.

Clarke indicated, to his squad, to continue straight down, by pointing his left hand forward.

"Single file lads, keep close." Clarke said, as they manoeuvred around the bodies of the mercenaries. Only one was identifiable among the burnt wreckage of cars.

They found a trail of blood. The squad followed it until they came to a torso just opposite the Apache helicopter.

The black jumpsuit the mercenary wore was in tatters and soaked in blood. The Lieutenant turned pale at the sight of seeing a man like that, still alive after being torn to shreds. He noticed that the mercenary pulled himself along by using his right arm. His left arm dangled from its joint. A couple of rounds had torn through the flesh of the shoulder. Shreds of bone were exposed in the tangled flesh.

The gunner from the ARC Regiment overtook Clarke.

"Corporal!" Clarke gritted his teeth.

He grabbed the mercenary from his left arm and flipped him over.

To Clarke's horror the mercenary reacted with quick speed and withdrew a gun from his chest holster. He fired a shot into the corporal's stomach and another in his chest.

Clark and the two 1st Cavalry soldiers drew their assault rifles onto the body. But the mercenary had dropped the pistol and stopped moving.

Clark raised his left hand and indicated to them to lower their weapons.

He knelt down to inspect the ARC soldier's body. The soldier's eyes were wide open from the shock.

Clarke moved over to the body of the mercenary. He checked the pulse just to be sure. Nothing.

Clarke looked up at the Chinook transport helicopter. It had started its descent on to the beach. It was then joined by the Apache helicopter behind it.

A whistle came from his right. He looked down 1st Collins Avenue, and saw the Beta Squad fire team waving at him, indicating to come over.

"Get back to Major Powers," Clarke told the 1st Cavalry soldiers.

Both soldiers nodded and jogged back. Clarke walked over to the fire team. All four men were wearing balaclavas.

"What is it?" Clarke asked.

"The bodies sir… Look at them."

The fire team had lined up the bodies of the mercenaries they had killed.

Clarke took a look at the men, all lined up. Now he saw it. "Oh, bollocks…"

"What the hell is going on here?" the fire team leader asked.

"Have you reported this to Major Powers?" Clarke asked.

"We did so immediately, sir."

"Damn…"

…

Miami Beach, Collins Avenue Intersection – 1:15 P.M.

"Just what the hell is going on here!" Powers said, over the sound of fire truck alarms. He was standing outside the Black Hawk helicopter on the intersection.

"We don't entirely know… But we think that Helen Cutter has sold her replica soldiers to BlackSun," Clarke said, sitting down in the fuselage of the wrecked Black Hawk.

The alarms of the nearby fire truck ceased. A fireman got out of the passenger seat and climbed on top of the truck. He took hold of the deluge gun and pointed it toward the burning CH-53. He loosened the pressure wheel, and water blasted out from the barrel, fighting the flames of the chopper wreckage.

Sergeant Major Jackson approached Major Powers. "Powers, sir. The replica bodies have been loaded on to the Chinook, to be disposed of, and we've apprehended the BlackSun helicopter pilots. They're being flown to the Everglades base for interrogation."

"That's good…" Powers sighed.

"We need to get a team up there. Two of those replicas managed to slip through to the HQ. That's where those two civvies we met were headed when I last saw them. I doubt they survived the encounter…"

"Two civvies?" Clarke perked up.

"I sent a 1st Cav squad to secure the reception. They reported both guys missing, along with the clones."

"Who were these two men?" Clarke asked.

"They were ARC regiment guys," Major Powers said, slightly annoyed.

"What? Who—"

Clarke was interrupted by a distant screech. Jackson, Clarke and Powers looked up at the sky. The form of a huge Pteranodon glided through the air, followed by six slightly smaller ones.

Levine and Campbell came out of the Black Hawk fuselage.

Campbell looked up at the seven pterosaurs. "Hey… It's those-."

A body crashed to the ground right in front of Levine.

"Shit!" Levine jumped back, falling onto the ground. He looked as if his heart almost exploded out of his chest, and he turned pale at the semi pulped body that lay before him.

Jackson, Powers and Clarke surrounded the body, their boots squelching in the pool of blood. The front of the body faced the ground. The left side of the face was untouched.

"It's a replica," Clarke sneered, recognizing the profile.

Jackson tipped the body over. The replica's intestines poked out of his belly, slowly oozing out. His right eye hung out of its socket and brain matter gushed from the temple.

"Lovely," Powers said, wrinkling his nose.

Levine covered his mouth, barely holding himself back from vomiting. The body was sickening to look at, but he couldn't take his eyes off it. Campbell frowned, but showed little emotion.

Powers turned to Clarke.

"The other replica must be on the roof. Get your men there, neutralise him, and see if you can also locate the two ARC regiment agents as well," Powers told the Lieutenant.

"What about the pterosaurs, sir?" Jackson asked Powers.

Before he could reply, Campbell verbally barged in.

"That fire truck!" Campbell pointed over the soldier's shoulders.

"You… You came with those two soldiers, who are you?" Powers asked menacingly.

"I… I'm the head keeper at the Everglades Land of Time. I was hired by BioSyn to look after the animals." Campbell said, standing firm against the imposing officer.

Powers, Clarke and Jackson looked at Campbell warily.

Levine stood up. "When he discovered the - ugh…" Levine's shoes squelched in the clotting blood as he came to Campbell's side, "…the dangerous implications of BioSyn's park, he came to our side. He's a valuable asset."

"Okay then," Jackson said.

Clarke nodded, approving. Both soldiers looked at Powers, and the Major shook his head.

"Alright… Tell us your plan." Powers crossed his arms.

"Okay…" Campbell started, "We've found that the Pterosaurs are attracted by the colour red, so… We can use that fire truck to lure the pterosaurs around South Beach, preferably along the beach itself."

"Alright," said Powers, "How are you going to get them to notice the truck, and how are you going to take them down?"

"Well, back in the park, it's about this time of day that they're fed, so they're going to be looking for carrion, or fish."

"There's a seafood restaurant at 3rd Washington Avenue," Jackson suggested.

"We'll go for the carrion option." Campbell nodded to the replica corpse, "We can use that replica to lure them toward the truck."

"And as for killing them?" Powers asked.

"No, we don't kill them," Campbell announced.

"Well, what else do you suggest—"

"The water-cannon," suggested Clarke, pointing to the deluge gun on the truck.

"Exactly, the spray of water will temporarily immobilise them." Campbell nodded.

"But it'll be easier said than done." Clarke looked back at Campbell.

"It will be, that's why we need a planned route, so when we take the creatures down we have men ready to secure them." Campbell brushed his right hand through his hair.

"You can take the truck up 3rd Washington Avenue, turn right to 1st Street, go straight down from there and onto the beach. Give us ten minutes to set up the ARC squads." Powers said, "Jackson, you'll be in charge of the ARC team in securing the pterosaurs, Clarke assist your squad in the BioSyn headquarters. Now let's get our asses moving," Powers concluded.

…

Campbell hopped into the cab of the fire truck. He shifted to the driver's seat. The engines were already on, so all he had to do was to get acquainted with the steering wheel, the gear stick and the pedals.

Levine climbed onto the deluge gun platform. He was presented with a console, and in the middle, a wheel. He twisted the metal wheel right, and the cannon turned right. Next was a lever on his right, and as he pushed the lever up, the deluge gun did the same thing. Then there was the water level meter, which fortunately was still full. On the deluge gun itself, was the small wheel which controlled the amount of water that came out of the gun.

Clarke and Jackson carefully got on board the platform, carrying the replica's corpse. "We've got somebody to keep you company," Clarke joked.

"He's just started to stink as well," Jackson said.

Levine ignored them.

Both soldiers heaved the mass next to the deluge gun. Levine looked at the body. He edged away slightly as the stench of the replica's innards got to him.

Clarke handed Levine a headset. It was a small, black Bluetooth device. Levine placed it in his right ear.

Clarke and Jackson hopped off the platform. Jackson left Clarke's side and ran down Collins Avenue to one of the 'checkpoints'.

Clarke rapped on the left cab door. Campbell rolled the window down, and the Lieutenant handed him a headset. He then gave Campbell the thumbs up.

Clarke passed by the front of the cab and ran into the BioSyn HQ. Four other soldiers followed him into the building.

God make this work… Campbell thought. He looked out the window, and up into the sky. The pterosaurs were still in the air, at least a hundred feet up.

Campbell spun the driving wheel left. The vehicle slowly lurched, turning down toward the South Pointe Drive barricade. Campbell looked to his right, and saw Major Powers giving him a salute and a wave.

…

The fire truck picked up speed as it went down South Pointe Drive.

Levine saw the pterosaurs diving from the sky. The creatures came straight for the truck. They had caught the scent of the dead replica. The pterosaurs levelled out their descent and came into line behind the truck, and started to gain on the vehicle.

Levine pressed his right hand down on the headset. "They're on our tail!"

Campbell responded, "Okay."

The truck swerved left to 3rd Washington Avenue. Levine gripped on to a handle to his left, with both hands.

One of the smaller pterosaurs was on level with the fire truck. The smell of carrion drew her closer. She took a quick peck at the replica and tugged at the intestines.

"Blast it!" Campbell shouted.

Levine turned the deluge gun to the right and loosened the wheel. The gush of water blasted the pterosaur off course. Levine turned the cannon on another two pterosaurs, knocking them off course.

"Three down, four to go!" Levine said.

As the truck drew farther from 3rd Washington, Levine saw four of the ARC soldiers spring out of hiding among the avenue of shops and secure the downed pterosaurs.

The truck turned at 1st Street.

Four more pterosaurs, this time led by the bigger one, the male, pursued the truck.

Levine took a deep breath. The big male lowered his feet onto the corpse, and the smaller pterosaurs quickly crowded around the big male.

Levine blasted the male off the truck, taking down two other pterosaurs at the same time.

The unaffected female flew off the truck for a moment, then she fluttered closer to the deluge gun and started pecking at it. She pecked at Levine's hands as he tried to spin the wheel on the deluge gun.

"Campbell! I need you to shake her off!"

The truck moved side to side. The pterosaur finally let go of the deluge gun and flew off. Not before Levine could blast an arc of water onto her back, sending the pterosaur to the road.

…

"We did it!" Levine cheered.

Levine cringed as his hands cramped. They were both red with some scratches on his fingers. The truck swerved left, turning to 168 Ocean Drive.

Levine heard the 1st Cavalry soldiers hailing them. They shouted at them, telling them to stop.

"Where are we going!" Levine shouted over his headset.

Campbell didn't respond.

The truck turned left at 2nd Street.

"Campbell? Campbell!" Levine shouted. Still no response from Campbell.

The truck continued down and turned right at Alton Road. It continued straight up for a minute or so until it turned left to the MacArthur Causeway.

XXXX

Miami Beach, Collins Avenue Intersection – 1:25 P.M.

Major Powers observed three black Chinook heavy transport helicopters above 3rd Washington Avenue, following a Black Hawk. The large helicopters had two winches on each underside. Each winch carried a small trailer big enough to hold a pterosaur.

On the side of the helicopters was the 'A' symbol for Alpha. Powers smirked.

His radio crackled, and Hopper's voice revealed itself. "Good afternoon Major."

"Good afternoon, sir."

"You'll be glad to know that the casualties have arrived safely at base, but I have also been informed of the massive losses we took. But at least it was a tactical victory. The BlackSun pilots have been captured and will be tried for treason. You did a good job."

"Thank you, sir."

"I've also contacted the Secretary of Defence. He's given us clearance to take on two more platoons of Delta Force soldiers. They'll be arriving from Fort Bragg tomorrow."

"Understood, sir."

"Finally, Major, transport is on standby, ready to take you guys back to base. Just radio me to send them off. I'll see you back at base."

"See you there, sir."

Powers clicked the radio off.

Another Black Hawk helicopter thundered over Powers. On the side door it had the 'B' symbol for Beta. The helicopter set down in an open space between Ocean Drive and 10 Ocean Court.

…

Miami Beach, BioSyn HQ – 1:25 P.M.

Clarke led four ARC Regiment soldiers (a medic, two Corporals and a Sergeant) out of the elevator and onto the forty-fourth floor offices. Laid out before them were rows of desks with keyboards and monitors, all partly-concealed by cubicles.

"Over there," Clarke lowered his assault rifle, and pointed eastwards to an opening in the ceiling, with a ladder beneath it.

The ladder juddered.

The soldiers aimed their weapons instinctively. A replica clambered off the ladder and turned to the soldiers. For a second, the replica stared at the soldiers with a blank expression.

His hand reached for his holster, but before he could pull the gun out he was sprayed with a mix of 5.56mm and 7.62mm rounds.

The body fell backwards, behind the cubicle wall.

"Right… Let's go see what he was doing up there," Clarke said, approaching the ladder.

…

One after the other, the soldiers made their way up to the roof.

Clarke brushed the back of his head. The wind was blowing strongly. To their right, far away from the roof, they saw the helicopters airlifting the pterosaurs, and heading away from the city.

They started their search. They were looking for anything, searching for anything that might look suspect.

Clarke selected to of his men, a sergeant and a medic. "You two check the AC units. Sergeant, Corporal, go check out the lift control room."

Clarke shifted through the tight AC units. He balanced on a pipe, and looked above the aircon boxes. A familiar face caught his attention.

"Hemple! Mason!" Clarke called out.

"Clarke!" Hemple shouted back. "Stay where you are, we're coming for you!"

Clarke nodded, smiling.

Clarke hopped off the pipe. Hemple and Mason came around one of the corners.

"We have to get out of here!" Hemple started.

"What? Why?"

"The replica… It planted a bomb."

"Show me first," Clarke said. He addressed his men. "Squad, regroup at the North face of the roof, call in for immediate evac, over."

…

In front of the three men was a device, welded onto the AC unit. The device was the size of a backpack that the average explorer or tourist would carry. The whole thing was encased in metal. A gap on the left and right sides of the device showed what was inside: a glass container, filled with a blue liquid. In the centre of the metallic casing were two dials, and beneath them was a digital timer which read: 01:50.

"What the hell is this…?" Clarke said to himself.

"It's a bomb…" Hemple said

"Well I can guess that much… Hemple, do you have a plan?"

Sparks glanced off the AC unit beside them.

Mason peered around the corner. He fired a few shots from his pistol. "It's that bloody replica!"

"Clarke, get to the chopper with your squad. I'll try and sort this bomb out."

"What's your backup plan?"

"The window cleaner's cradle. Mason, distract that Replica."

"Okay, sir," Mason started, He looked at Clarke "GO!"

Mason came out of cover. He fired some shots, from his pistol, at the replica. Clarke bolted out of the maze.

The Lieutenant burst forth from the aircon boxes. He felt like a deer leaping out of a forest into an open plain, running from a predator.

His squad was already on board the Black Hawk helicopter. The helicopter hovered a few feet above the pebble floor as Clarke boosted himself up onto the fuselage. The members of the squad helped him up.

…

Mason was pumping round after round into the replica, until finally the body collapsed. Mason approached the bloody corpse. He fired off two rounds into the replica's skull.

"I can't shut this thing down! We're going to have to get back to the sub level!" Hemple said.

"How!"

"Let's just go!"

Mason and Hemple reached the North face of the roof. Hemple had the window cleaner's cradle in his sights.

"Come on!" Hemple sped up as he got closer to the cradle.

The cradle shuddered as Hemple jumped into it. Mason followed after him.

Hemple pulled down on a lever on a console on the left side of the cradle. They started a slow descent toward the streets.

"This isn't fast enough…" Hemple mumbled.

The Black hawk helicopter set down on the beach. Most of the Powers' strike force had retreated back here because of the bomb threat.

The rotor of the helicopter whined down and stopped. Clarke and the squad evacuated the helicopter, along with the pilots.

Clarke ran beside Powers.

"How long to zero?" Powers asked.

"I'd say less than a minute, now."

Powers nodded.

Hemple and Mason were outside the twentieth floor now. Hemple looked up to the roof.

A flash of light forced both men to duck and shield their eyes. The cradle shook. In only a few seconds their support was in free fall.

Quickly and abruptly the cradle crashed into a hedge.

The afternoon day light had disappeared. In an instant all the soldiers on the beach turned toward the Atlantic, shielding their eyes.

Clarke's worst fears were answered. A mysterious nuclear device had been planted on top of the BioSyn HQ.

But strangely, the compression phase, when everything nearby is blasted away by a crushing shock wave, was not felt.

A blinding blue-white light replaced the darkness. All Clarke saw through his eyes was an explosion of colours as the light disrupted the darkness.

Accompanying the burst of light was a warm breeze, which increased the temperature to a more arid climate.

One by one the soldiers unfurled, turning back to face a glorious light display. A cloud of blue-white slowly enveloped the BioSyn HQ. It was mesmerising. The hot blue-white faded into a hot purple-white, then back to blue and vice-versa.

As it enveloped the HQ it created a sound of a heavy avalanche. Sand poured from beneath the cloud of energy.

Hemple rose to his feet. He brushed sand from his shoulders and his head. He looked up. A cloud of fiery energy was slowly consuming the building. And it was raining sand…

Mason got up, his left hand gripped on to his back. He sneezed, but that just aggravated the pain.

"Oh bugger." Mason looked up, he squinted as sand fell on his face. "What's happening?"

They had to get out of here. Hemple looked around for the quickest escape route. Behind the hedge, a downed chopper smouldered. It blocked their path onto the highway. If they could just climb over it…

With a crash, several concrete slabs, presumably dislodged by the explosion, landed on top of the Black Hawk, and enveloped the soldiers in dust. Once the cloud had cleared, Hemple saw that the slabs had blocked up their way out. They could barely see the highway beyond.

They were trapped, with the whole building behind them collapsing.

Hemple looked back at the HQ. He could see a doorway leading into the basement. It was unlocked, as far as he could see.

"I have an idea!" Hemple announced.

…

Miami Beach – 3:45 P.M.

The soldiers flooded back in to South Pointe Drive.

They all surrounded a sinkhole, where the HQ used to be. Sand surrounded the rim of this pit.

"It looks like it goes on forever," one of the soldiers said, looking down into the darkness.

Powers clicked his radio on. He was back beside his defunct Black Hawk helicopter. "Colonel Hopper, sir, I think we're going to be staying in South Beach a lot longer than expected…"

"That's a negative Major, you're going back to base," Hopper replied.

"Who's going to be taking care of this fine mess we have here?"

"A CIA team."

"So-"

"We're working with them from now on." Hopper finished Powers' sentence.

"What transport have you sent in for us?"

"Four Gamma squad Black Hawks. Is that all of your questions?" Hopper asked.

"Yes, sir. I'll see you at base. Over." Power clicked off his radio.

"Over and out." Hopper concluded.

Powers sighed deeply. If things get worse… He looked up at the darkening sky, a storm was brewing. The rain drops started falling to the Earth. The pitter-patter against the metal casing of the helicopter got faster as the rain became torrential.

"Major Powers, sir." A soldier from the 1st Cavalry ran up to the senior officer.

"What is it son?" Powers faced the soldier.

"The 1st Cav barricade team at One-Four-One Ocean Drive have reported that the two civvies that took down the pterosaurs have deserted us, sir."

The first crack of thunder was heard.

Powers knew who the two civvies were: Campbell and Levine. The officer lowered his head into his hands.

I need an aspirin…

-------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Forty-One

A Mathematical Certainty

All change is not growth, as all movement is not forward. – Ellen Glasgow

The complex had calmed. Rossiter was nursing his wounds in the drawing room, while being watched by Doctor Malcolm. Redfern and Doody were patrolling the corridors, watching for creatures. Becker had since explored the lobby, to see what supplies he could find there.

Everyone else was trying to get some sleep. For Jenny, it had been a full twenty-four hours since she'd got a proper night's sleep. The wounded Abby got the couch, and everyone else would sleep on the floor. Becker found sleeping-bags, and distributed them to everyone.

As they were settling down, Connor whispered to Jenny. "D'you 'member yesterday? When we first met Rossiter. In the restaurant. You told him that I was a leading evolutionary zoologist. Just like Cutter."

"Yes, we needed Rossiter to respect our opinions," she answered. "Back when it seemed like a matter of reasoning with them." She paused. "Connor, you helped lead those people to safety. Cutter would be proud."

"I'm not so sure," Connor replied.

"What do you mean?"

He lowered his voice even further. "I was at that computer when it happened. What if I pressed the wrong button? Opened the wrong file? What if this is my fault?"

"Connor, you didn't do this. God knows who did, but it definitely wasn't you."

Becker turned the lights off, and left the room. They all settled into their sleeping bags. Sleeping was nigh-on impossible.

Becker knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, even if he tried. He decided to take up patrol with Doody, and let Redfern get some rest. He'd reloaded Abby's pistol, and given Doctor Grant his own, just in case they got separated.

He decided to check up on two of the new arrivals, the keepers. They were in a separate room, one of the small offices left vacant overnight.

They were in conversation when Becker arrived.

"So, it was just inhumane to take them here into this tropical-" the tall, blonde-haired Scott stopped talking when he noticed Becker come in.

The office contained four desks, each with a computer and chair. Scott was behind one, adjacent and to the left of the door. McCoy, a medium-height blonde woman, leaned against the desk opposite him. They both looked up at Becker when he came in.

"Hello," Becker said. "Everything OK?"

"Uh, yeah, we were just getting our sleeping bags out," McCoy told him. The beige bags were in a pile on the floor, between the two keepers.

There was an awkward silence for a moment.

"OK, well, bye." Becker left the room, and continued his patrol.

Scott continued their conversation. "So, as I was saying, the Gorgonopsids were uncomfortable in the Florida climate. That's why they were so shy in their enclosure."

"They didn't seem shy when they were out of it," McCoy pointed out. She ended the discussion by organising her own sleeping-bag. Scott did likewise.

After a minute or so, McCoy spoke again. "Are you going to tell me what happened back there?"

"With Rossiter? He caused this. He made the park. It's all his fault. It should never have been built. I'm surprised no one shut it down."

"Then why did you come to work here?"

Scott looked up at her. His mouth was agape, but no answer came out. He didn't seem to have one. "I… uh…"

A bang echoed down through the corridors.

Scott jumped up. "What was that?"

…

Malcolm had drawn the short straw, and was on watch duty. Doody, the ARC medic, had already checked Rossiter out, and he'd only needed a few stitches, which Doody had applied using the first-aid kit from the lobby.

They were both in the drawing room. Rossiter sat on one of the seats, and Malcolm paced up and down the room, thinking. The carnage that had been caused the night before was beyond belief. Keeper McCoy had already told them about the attack on the visitor centre, and the destruction in the park. This place was like an active example of chaos theory, and now they were experiencing the chaos.

Levine, no matter how dumb he was to think he could lead a military operation, was nonetheless leading a military operation. So, all they had to do was sit tight, and wait for rescue. One thing stuck out in his mind, though. What caused the power-cut?

"No chess-set here, I'm afraid," Rossiter interjected into the silence.

Malcolm stopped pacing, at the head of the room, and looked across to the middle-aged, dark-haired, suited man. "I'm gonna ask you one question, one very simple, question, and I need you to answer as honestly and truthfully as you can. Can you do that, Mister Rossiter?"

"Of course, Doctor Malcolm."

"Did you have any involvement, no matter how remote, or unintentional, in the power-cut?"

"No." His voice was calm, if ever-so-slightly exasperated. "I built this park with a vision. And now I'm stuck here just like you."

"So, do you have any theories, as to how this all came about?"

Rossiter paused. "Head-Keeper Campbell told me that one of your allies, Connor Temple, hacked into the computer system just before the breakout. That policeman, Danny Quinn, he told Temple a particular code to input. Two-Six-Six-Six-Two-Five-Nine. And it just so happens that that's a code that enacts an emergency protocol, which turns off the fences."

Rossiter leaned back in his chair, waiting for a response.

Malcolm smiled, and half-laughed. "I don't buy it."

"Excuse me?"

"What, you just program in an emergency protocol that single-handedly turns off all of the fences with the input of just seven numbers? And another thing, I was in that room at the time, I know that they figured out that code because, in predictive texting, in corresponds to the word 'anomaly'. Which, ah, just so happens to be the source of the majority of your creatures, and a word very closely connected to the park. That's an even worse password than your date-of-birth. Come on, Howard, even John Hammond wasn't that stupid."

Rossiter sighed. "OK, fine, I have no idea how this happened. Try and look at it from my perspective, the last five years of my life were focused entirely on building this park, for the advancement of humanity. And now, it's been ruined before its second day. BioSyn is finished, and I'm finished with it. I just, thought on the spot that if I could stop you all from blaming me for this, then I might be able to survive."

"So, you just use a harmless ex-policeman from England as your scapegoat."

"OK, it was a snap decision, a bad one. Hell, at the time, it looked as though he'd let the giant scorpions out of their cage, so he wasn't harmless. For all I knew, he could have been the one who caused the power-cut."

"So what about your story? About Isla Sorna, DX, everything. How am I supposed to know that's not bullshit, too?"

"The details? The silver revolver with ivory grips, a family heirloom from the Civil War, passed to me by a dying friend."

Malcolm decided that this wasn't all that relevant anyway, and moved on. "So, this Helen Cutter, do you think it could've been her?"

Rossiter was starting to open up. "I've gone through it in my head time and again. She disappeared before the power-cut, and was away when it hit. She does seem suspicious. But, if you'd experienced the same five years I have, you'd come to the same conclusion. She was just too invested in this project. She had the same excitement and wonderment I had, especially when the opening day drew closer. She was so protective of it, keeping on the lookout for that ARC team. I mean, she hired a spy to keep tabs on them. Sure, that didn't work out so well, but as I said before, maybe he went rogue? I never met the man, so I don't know, but Captain Becker did. He said he didn't seem so professional."

"So what do you think about him? Could the spy have done it?" Malcolm asked.

"I'm sorry I couldn't have been more help, but I really don't know."

Malcolm was hitting a brick wall. So far, all four possibilities – Helen, Rossiter, the spy, or an accident by Temple – were dead-ends. Then, he realised a fifth possibility.

"That keeper, Scott, do you have any idea why he beat you up like that?"

"No idea. He didn't seem aggressive when we hired him. But, I guess he has undergone trauma. It makes sense to lash out at me, seeing as this is my park."

"Maybe. But something didn't seem right. It wasn't… natural. It was like he'd been planning that. I mean, remember how Hammond's park went down? Sabotage by another company. Admittedly, yourcompany…"

"That was long before I had any input into management decisions."

"But what I'm saying is, it's not outside the realms of possibility that another company, a rival, someone who had a reason to be working against you… Maybe Scott's an agent. I mean, it would seem ridiculous otherwise, but since the Nublar incident, the possibility's all too real."

"Perhaps. I guess it is a possibility. And I'm open to suggestions at this point."

"So that's five possibilities…" Malcolm mumbled, searching through the drawers in the drawing room.

"I hope that doesn't include me…"

Malcolm pulled out a band-new notepad, with the Everglades Land of Time logo on the front. "We have to take all possibilities into account." He found a pen in the same drawer.

"Well, in that case, you may as well count any of the ARC team, Levine, Professor Grant, even yourself…"

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Malcolm asked rhetorically, while he jotted down notes onto the notepad.

"Look, Doctor Malcolm, you have to remember what I've put into this place. My whole life. And this is progress. Jurassic Park, that ultimately failed, but it was still progress."

Malcolm looked up. "Rossiter, it's happened twice now, and it always ends the same. Where do you expect this to lead? More death and destruction? And what do you suppose that will lead to?"

"It only ends once. Anything before that is just progress."

Malcolm returned to the notepad. "You sound like a broken record, you know that?"

"Oh, and I suppose you, the chaotician, can tell us all what's going to happen next?"

"Oh, I don't know," Malcolm looked up again. "But I'll tell you one thing, that's a mathematical certainty. It always was, ever since this park was created. If it wasn't sabotage, it would've been something else. This is all going to end badly. And that's a mathematical certainty."

A bang echoed down through the corridors.

"What was that?" Malcolm put the notepad and pen into his shirt pocket, and stood up.

…

Becker cocked his rifle, and dropped to his knees, facing the direction of the noise. He motioned to Doody behind him, and Redfern kept watch at the other end of the corridor. It had been inevitable that something would find them. He'd just hoped it wouldn't be this soon. Together, Becker and Doody walked, close to the ground, towards the sound of the noise, their weapons at the ready.

They emerged into the lobby. The large glass doors had been shattered, pieces of glass scattered on the floor. But the lobby was empty.

Then they heard that noise that signalled the arrival of the future predators.

They leapt into the lobby, and listened around for their next meal. More than half a dozen predators noticed the two soldiers.

They opened fire. The bullets cut into the predators, and they reacted with aggression. They charged at the duo, who retreated into the corridor.

"Evacuate now!" Becker called back. "Get everyone out of this building!"

XXXX

Malcolm was on his own. They'd all scattered into the forest when the predators attacked, and he'd lost Rossiter in the chaos.

Twigs cracked underfoot as he walked. It was mid-day, and the summer sun bore down on him. The sky was blue, with only a few clouds. As he walked through the dense tropical forest that surrounded the complex, he could hear the sounds of birds and insects. There were a few deeper calls in the distance, which Malcolm judged to be Camarasaurs.

The last time he'd had a proper sleep at all was on the BioSyn aircraft. That was 36 hours ago. He was exhausted.

"Doctor Malcolm?"

He turned around to find two other survivors. They were the two keepers – Keeper McCoy, and in front of her was Keeper Scott.

Malcolm checked his shirt pocket. He still had that notepad.

------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Forty-Two

The Sarajevo Moment

Wisdom is knowing what to do next;
virtue is doing it. – David Starr Jordan

An adult male Gallimimus bullatus sprints down the path. Following it is the rest of the flock. Hoots and crows of distress rise from the flock as it speeds along.

Around the next corner, the male skids to a halt. He's arrived at the park-gate. Those behind him bump into him, and knock him off his feet. Then they too stop.

The Gallimimus inspect the gate, looking for a way around, or through.

A loud honk sounds from the back of the column, followed by shrieks and bellows of distress. The male rocks to his feet and looks toward the source of the sounds. A member of his flock is on the ground, enveloped by a cloud of dust. Writhing figures suppress its struggles. They rip into the herbivore's body, spurting blood and flesh. One of them raises its skull-like head. It's a megamyotid, or future predator.

As the prey stops moving, the future predators are joined by other members of their 'pack', leaping from the trees that border the trail. They eye the Gallimimus up hungrily.

The flock honk in alarm, and, cornered against the gate, scatter into the forest. Many of the future predators follow them. A few stop to look at the main-gate. They cackle at it, and one of them grabs a vertical railing with its claws. He pulls down, to check if it can hold his weight.

Then the noises of the stampede reach them. Coming down the road behind them, colossal footsteps are heading in their direction.

The future predators all scarper as the Camarasaur herd charges towards the gate. One big one leads the way, and pauses only briefly at the gate. His neck towers over it, and he sniffs the vegetation on the other side. The fifty-ton bull rears up on his back legs, and swings his huge forelimbs at the bars. With a clank, they bend and break. The bull's forelimbs land with a momentous thud. The bull calls out with triumph, and leads his herd through the gate. Nine giant sauropod dinosaurs charge through, out of the park.

A slower individual is bringing up the rear. He bears long gashes down his left side, which are bleeding heavily. He awkwardly limp-runs through the gate's ruins, losing blood fast.

He's being followed by two of the best olfactory centres in history. Two Tyrannosaurs are in hot pursuit of their next meal. One is a big female, the biggest predator in the park. Her teeth are red with Camarasaur blood. In her shadow is her mate, a smaller male. The future predators cower in the trees as the giants pass by.

The female pauses at the broken gate, and sniffs the air, before stomping the ground with her right foot and carrying on. The male follows. Giving them a few seconds' birth, the future predators leap out in their wake.

XXXX

The park-entrance was quiet when Danny arrived. The bars that once formed the gate were now scattered across the ground, bent and snapped. As the bike slowed to a stop, Danny noticed the footprints. Some of them were round, and deep. They must have been the Camarasaurs. Others were slightly bigger, and had just three toes. The Rexes were out.

It had taken him a quite a while to find his bike, but fortunately he hadn't run into any creatures.

Danny had to get the word out. He rushed over to the security box, and climbed through the broken window. He couldn't see any phones. Danny searched through the cabinets and drawers, looking for one. Instead, he found a walkie-talkie. He switched it on, and flipped through the channels.

"Hello! Is anyone there? Mayday, mayday, mayday!"

Eventually, he heard a voice coming through.

"Hello! Is someone there?" It was Connor Temple, one of the ARC team.

"Connor?" Danny answered. "Where are you?"

"Danny, is that you?" Connor asked.

"Yeah, where are you?"

"We're outside the complex. The future predators attacked. We had to run."

"Who's with you?"

"Abby, and Doctor Grant."

"What about the others? Jenny, Becker? Doctor Malcolm? Rossiter?"

"I don't know, we got split up."

"Damn it… Where'd you find a walkie?"

"It was just on the ground. Where'd you find yours?"

"In the security box, at the main-gate. The gate's broken down. The creatures must be out. I'm gonna have to get the word out."

Silence for a second. "OK. Be careful, Danny."

"You too. Give the others my best. Bye." Danny switched the walkie off, and took stock of his situation. He now had to find a way of getting the warning out. He had to get into the city.

He mounted the bike again, revved the engine, and set off.

…

Having been unconscious on the way in, Danny wasn't familiar with the directions to Miami. The park entrance was at the end of a short road that led up to the main-road. The road was covered in dirt and muck, presumably brought here by the stampeding creatures. The chain-link fencing on the other side of the road was torn from its supports, and cast to the ground. On the other side, off in the distance, he could just make out the shapes of giant, long-necked dinosaurs. They looked stationary now. The road was quiet, with not a car in sight. Perhaps, Danny wondered, the traffic within the city of the last day-and-a-half hadn't quite died down yet, and few people were getting out.

But someone was coming. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of helicopters flying towards him. He looked up to see a convoy of helicopters approaching the park from the… he checked the compass in Rossiter's credit-less phone… from south by south-west. The choppers flew closer, and Danny saw the star-spangled banner emblazoned on the side of each. As they flew overhead, he noticed that each one had a particular letter painted on its side. The first helicopters all bore a capital 'A' or 'B'. There were about six of these. Following them, five helicopters bore the symbol 'Γ'. They all carried on towards the park.

Rescue had finally arrived.

As they flew over him, Danny waved his hands and shouted at the top of his voice. "Hey! Down here! I'm down here! Listen!" No good. They'd have to carry on without him. Danny had other things to deal with. In the meantime, he'd send someone else.

Danny pulled out the walkie, switched it on, and called for Connor.

"Connor Temple! Come in, Connor Temple."

"Can I have some kind of handle?" Connor's voice came through on the other end. "Like, Osprey, or Dynamo?"

"Connor, listen. Rescue helicopters just flew into the park. It looked like they were going towards the lodge. You need to get over there, now."

"Great. Thanks, Danny. What are you gonna be doing?"

"I need to warn the city. I'll have to get there fast to beat the creatures, so I have to go. Good luck." He switched the walkie off, slipped it into his pocket, and mounted the bike again.

The city was to the east, down the road to his left. In that direction, he could see spattered blood.

Let the race begin.

He powered the bike up, and sped off towards the city.

…

The noise of roars and thud-steps told Danny that he getting closer to the big one. Following the trail of blood, he continued down the road, towards the train station.

In the left wing-mirror, Danny caught sight of a figure emerging from the forest behind him. It started to chase him. It was joined by a second.

He glanced back to get a good look at what he was up against this time.

Two raptors. Ravenous. Vicious.

Danny grinned, and looked back at the road in front of him.

He revved the engine, and charged ahead at full speed.

At the next junction, a sign saying 'Kart Racing' pointed down the secondary road, on the right.

Perfect.

Danny turned sharply and skidded down the road. He could hear the raptors howl with frustration at his sudden change of direction. But it wasn't long until they'd caught up again.

He rode into the carpark, dodged a pickup truck, reared up on the bike's back wheel and, unable to stop in time, crashed through the door. He dismounted the bike and pushed it through to the under-roof part of the course. Ten go-karts were stationary at the starting-line.

Danny paused for a moment to consider the doubts in his mind, most of them rooted in common sense. After a few seconds, he decided to ignore that particular sense, and carry on.

He rushed behind the registration desk, and grabbed a much-needed helmet.

As he did, a crowl signalled the arrival of the two raptors through the door. They quickly noticed Danny, cornered, behind the desk. One of them, the larger of the two, jumped up onto the counter, and readied its claws.

Danny grabbed the biggest helmet at hand, and swung it at the raptor. It hit it right in the side of the face. The raptor was pushed off balance, and fell onto the floor.

Danny took the opportunity, and ran out to his bike. After fastening the helmet onto his head and re-mounting the vehicle, he revved at the raptors.

"Come on then, if you think you're 'ard enough."

Once the bigger raptor was on its feet, the race began.

Danny rode towards the course, smashed through the entrance, and he was on the track. Behind him, the raptors leaped over the barriers, and followed.

Around the next corner, the roof ended, and they were out under the midday-sun. Danny leaned in to skirt around the next hammerhead corner. The raptors jumped across. Cheats.

The course was a good one, with plenty of turns and bends. The raptors hung on, just, by jumping most of the tight corners.

Inside the building again. Then, the start-line. The go-karts lined up facing him. They were streamlined, and the 'bonnet' was flat.

Danny revved, and rode full-speed over the cars. The jump lasted the length of the five go-karts in double-file.

Just behind the start-line was a tight turn. Once he hit the ground, he had to lean in to make it.

The wheels slipped.

The vehicle hit against the tyre-wall, side first. It hurt.

The raptors had clambered over the karts, and were now right behind him. The smaller one jumped over the tyres on the inside of the bend, so that they had him cornered.

Danny had no other option.

He got back on his bike, and charged straight into the smaller raptor.

The dinosaur had to dodge, and as it was shoved aside, it clawed at him, opening a gash in his shoulder.

Danny ignored the pain, and the raptor was left in his dust.

He sped on, out of the building again.

About twenty yards down the road, a huge Tyrannosaur crashed out of the trees that bordered the course, and onto the tarmac. It looked around, and saw Danny.

Danny braked heavily, and a raptor slammed into his back. He was cast off the bike, and onto the ground. The raptor was just about to show its teeth, when it backed away suddenly. Danny pushed himself onto his palms, and saw both raptors abandoning the course, and jumping into the surrounding trees.

Danny stood up. He was about to get back on the bike, but after judging how close the Tyrannosaur now was, walking towards him, he opted to leave it.

He sprinted into the treeline like the raptors. He turned back for a brief moment to see the Tyrannosaur grab the bike in its huge jaws, and throw it at the concrete building. He heard metal snap. The Tyrannosaur walked closer and started to tear it apart.

Danny ran into the forest, and came upon a small building. It was concrete, with two glass windows, and a roof of corrugated iron. A path led through the trees, back in the direction of the karting centre. The door was closed. Danny decided to hide inside and check out his wound.

He opened the unlocked door, and quietly closed it behind him. The building was a store-room, with fuel-cans, jumpsuits and helmets around the walls. Another door to Danny's left was closed.

He heard a weird cackle, like a hyena's.

A little perturbed, he turned around to the corner on his right, where the sound had come from.

Hanging from the rafters were three or four tiny grey figures. They were each about the size of a human baby, but looked anything but human. Their heads were like skulls, with swollen, exaggerated brain-cases. They had no eyes, and their jaws were full of razor-sharp teeth. Their hands and feet ended in claws. They were cackling at Danny, and swinging their limbs at him.

Danny backed away, and ran into the next room. He closed the door. This one had even more clutter, but as he looked around, he couldn't see anything moving.

…

The baby future predators were play-fighting among the rafters when Danny came in. The only babies produced so far by Florida's megamyotids, they were left here by their parents as a safe place, while they went hunting. They had been eying Danny up as a potential target for their play, when the raptors arrived.

Two featherless, scaly dromaeosaurs smash down the door, and enter the building. The babies have never seen raptors before, and start to size up these new arrivals. The future predators are used to thinking that nothing can touch them, having no natural rivals. Foolishly, they decide that the raptors will be an exciting new subject for their play-hunt.

They try out their echolocation, but being inexperienced, fail to keep it silent.

The larger raptor was sniffing at the door to Danny's hiding place when it heard the strange rattle-cackle sound. Both raptors look up with surprise. They have had a little interaction with future predators following the power-cut, and know that they are a danger. The call fills them with fear for a moment.

The two raptors prepare to leave the building and run. Then they pinpoint the source of the call.

Above them, the four babies cackle at the top of their voices, co-ordinating their new hunt.

One jumps on top of the larger raptor's head, and starts clawing at its face. The raptor growls, and quickly throws the baby to the floor, with little effort. At the same time, the other three land on the raptor's back.

The smaller raptor helps to pull the babies off, and stamps each one to the floor.

The babies lie helpless, on their backs, and at the reptiles' mercy. But they refuse to retreat, and start clawing at the raptors again.

The larger raptor opens its mouth and tears into one of the babies. The reptiles finally have their meal.

…

Meanwhile, Danny found a back door behind a wooden board, and escaped. He ran down the path, back to the karting centre. The Rex had disappeared. Danny's bike was destroyed. Danny decided on a new form of transport.

He borrowed one of the karts, and sped along the main-road, towards the city.

…

An adult female future predator returns to the babies' hiding-place after an unsuccessful hunt. She finds the door smashed on the floor, and a smell of blood.

The corpses of four baby future predators are strewn around the floor, having been torn apart.

The mother sniffs her young, and a feeling comparable to grief overwhelms her. However, that is soon replaced by fury, and a need for revenge. He smells the corpses again. The predators' sense of smell, thought not their prime sense, is still well-developed. She can make out the babies' killer. A raptor.

So starts a species vendetta.

----------------------------------------------------------------

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."

------------------------------------------------------

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.

---------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Forty-Five

Déjà vu

Nature never deceives us; it is always we who deceive ourselves. – Jean-Jacques Rousseau

The park was almost beautiful from up high.

They'd reached the crest of a steep cliff, from which they could look down on the whole park. Alan Grant stood over the carnage, the destruction, and the undeniable spectacle of it all.

Connor Temple and Abby Maitland sat on either side of him, also enjoying the view. They'd spent the last two hours trying to find some kind of direction in the forest, so they could make use of Danny's tip-off, and they'd emerged at the remotest end of the park. They could see the rescue helicopters at the lodge. It could take them hours to get there. Best to start now.

They walked down the edge of the ridge through the tree-line, and onto level ground. Grant felt a sense of déjà vu – here he was, travelling through dinosaur-inhabited jungle with a pair of young accomplices. Well, at least this time there are some new predators to spice things up, he thought to himself.

"So, Doctor Grant," Connor piped up, "I've been meaning to ask you about this whole Isla Nublar thing. I guess I never really got the chance…"

"Oh, by all means, ask away," Alan asked from the front of the group, still walking onwards.

Connor hastened to come level with him. "So… what happened?"

"Well," Alan began. He wasn't looking forward to explaining all this. "Did you ever hear about something called 'Jurassic Park'?"

"Of course," Connor said, grinning, "it was only the biggest conspiracy theory of the 90's!"

"Well, that, that was real."

Grant didn't look over at Connor, but in the corner of his eye, he could see his face drop completely. Alan hadn't anticipated that it would be this easy to convince him.

"What… all of it?" Connor asked. His voice was tinged with excitement.

"I'm not sure what version you heard. It was a tropical island, with a park full of cloned dinosaurs, and it was sabotaged. I was there."

Abby quickened her step to come level with them. "So, you're telling me one of his internet rumours is actually… true?"

"Well, there may have been some embellishment," Alan answered. "What was the most unbelievable aspect of it?"

"Personally, the use of frog DNA to fill in genetic gaps. I mean, that's a bit… far-fetched."

"Anyway, that's how it happened. Then the dinosaurs all got that disease, DX. And-"

A chorus of honks arose from the bushes ahead of them.

Grant and Abby raised their pistols.

"Wait, when did everyone get guns?" Connor asked.

Abby led the way into the bushes, pistol held high. Grant followed close.

At the other side, they found themselves on a road-side bank. Below them, on the path, a flock of Gallimimus had congregated. The honking died down not long after it had begun.

Together, they climbed down the bank, onto the path, through the herd, and on their way.

The walkie in Connor's pocket started buzzing.

"Hello? Connor?" It was Quinn's voice.

Connor drew the radio. "Danny! Hi. Connor's here. Over."

"Connor, are you at the lodge yet?"

"No, why? Over."

"A few of the helicopters just flew over me, away from the park. They must have gathered their first load. You might have to wait a while for the next group."

"Roger that. Where are you? Over."

"Just outside the city. The Rex is getting close. We don't have much time. Do you know what other creatures are out of their enclosures? Maybe those invisible Gremlins…"

"Well, considering what else is out, I think the Camo Beasts are the least of your worries. Over."

"Are you kidding? Do you remember what it did in that house?"

Abby spoke into the radio this time. "It didn't actually seem all that aggressive. It might have just been defending its territory."

"Then I hope it doesn't decide to extend its territory to the city," Danny replied. "Anyway, I should get going. Um… Over and out."

Danny was cutting through a patch of trees. He'd left the go-kart at the side of the road. The traffic into the city had been a nightmare, and eventually, he'd decided to abandon the concrete. He was suffering from serious fatigue, having not really slept properly in days.

Something was behind him. He was sure of it.

He wheeled around.

Nothing.

Gremlin.

It must have been.

He turned around and continued on his way, a little faster this time.

Again. He could sense something following him.

He crouched down to the ground and lifted a branch from the forest floor.

He turned.

There it was. That horrible toothy face, those evil eyes boring into him.

He lashed out with the branch. He tried to slash at the creature. He roared.

Nothing.

He fell over, face-first into the dried leaves.

He looked up. The gremlin was gone.

The evil bugger…

Danny pushed himself up onto his feet, and looked around himself.

Gremlins started to materialize from the trees, up in the canopy, at ground level, out of thin air.

Danny was surrounded.

He grasped the branch tightly, and ran straight into the gremlins, roaring again.

His eyes shut, he went straight through them and into a stand of bushes.

He lost his footing. The ground was sloping downwards.

He fell.

He rolled down the hill, branches and briars scratching his face.

He reached flat ground again, and was stopped at a tree trunk. By his head.

A splitting pain flared up in his skull.

Once that had subsided a little, he looked around himself.

Nothing. No sounds, no gremlins.

He pushed himself up, and walked away, pulling twigs out of his clothes.

Ian Malcolm was following a somewhat deranged woman through the dinosaur-infested jungle to a 'facility' of unknown purposes. The ridiculousness of this situation had only now dawned on him.

He was following Helen Cutter for two main reasons. First, she seemed to know her way around this place, and staying with her might be a safe decision. Second, Malcolm had every intention of finding out just who'd caused this power-cut.

They stopped at a set of boulders in the forest. Helen sat on one, and pulled out an apple. She started cutting it with her knife. Malcolm sat on another boulder, opposite her. She offered him a piece. He politely declined.

"Helen Cutter," he began, "where were you at the time of the power-cut? That is, 4:00 a.m."

Helen swallowed a piece of apple, and reclined a little. "There was an emergency at one of our other facilities. Only a small building, for containing creatures before they're sent to the park. Like our very own Site B."

"What happened?"

"One of the predators had escaped. A future predator. It had to be contained. We had to pull our security forces out of the park, temporarily. Howard was asleep. I assumed that everything would be alright while we left briefly. Clearly it wasn't."

"Right. Who do you believe may be responsible for the power-cut?"

"Howard was so inspired by the idea of the park. He wouldn't destroy all that. He doesn't stand to gain anything from it."

"And your spy?"

"Ketterman? He was 25 million years in the past around the time of the power-cut. He was on a clean-up mission following our latest expedition. I didn't want to risk contaminating the past."

"What about your security forces?"

"All of them were with me at the time."

"Where are they now?"

"Still at that other building, as far as I know."

"You don't think they could have been answering to another boss?"

Helen smiled. "I'm afraid that's quite impossible." She looked down for a second, as if remembering something. Her smile faded somewhat. Then she looked back at him, and forced a smile back onto her face. "Anyway, time to go." She finished her apple, and stood off the rock. She led the way further through the forest.

Keepers McCoy and Scott had since given up searching for Doctor Malcolm. He was nowhere to be seen.

They were still heading eastwards, towards the road.

They reached a stream running through the trees. Vincent Scott lowered to his knees to take a drink. Amy McCoy wasn't as thirsty. She stood guard.

She couldn't help wondering about what he'd been doing up at the Camarasaurs after the scorpion breakout. There was no one to protect up there, and the Camarasaurs weren't going to be in any danger. The only thing of great value up there was the weapons cache.

The cache that was later found empty.

No matter how much she hated it, it made logical sense. Vincent could have taken the heavy weaponry out of the cache to stop the others from killing the creatures. Regardless of his involvement in the power-cut, that particular part fitted.

"Amy…"

Vincent was looking downstream. As she followed his gaze, Amy could see a figure in the water. Vincent approached the body, and Amy came after him.

It was a man. He was lying face-down. There was blood around his face.

Vincent turned the man's body around to face them.

It was Howard Rossiter. Unconscious. The blood was coming from the scars in his face that Vincent had given him. The stitches had undone.

Vincent checked his pulse. "He's alive…" He cupped cold water in his hands and splashed it in his face. Rossiter spluttered and opened his eyes.

Gasping for air, he tried to make out his surroundings. "What happened?"

"The predators got into the building," Vincent replied. "Remember?"

Vincent grabbed Rossiter by the shoulder.

"Vincent, don't…" Amy protested. She didn't want a repeat of their last encounter.

Vincent ignored Amy. He pulled Rossiter up off the ground, and let him lean against a nearby tree. "We're heading for the highway. If you want to come, you're gonna have to keep up."

Vincent walked on, leaving Howard to push himself off the tree, and follow. Amy brought up the rear.

"Did you meet any other survivors?" Amy asked the CEO.

"No," he replied. "I was left on my own."

"Oh, well I'm sure he has someone in this park who's still on his side," Vincent said. "A spy, an assassin, something morally grey. That's your style, isn't it Rossiter?"

"Actually, Keeper Scott, as a matter of fact I did manage to convince a couple of people to help me. They'll be trying to help my creatures survive the power-cut."

"Who?" Scott asked.

"Well, Richard Levine, for one. And Head-Keeper Campbell didn't require that much convincing to come around to my way of thinking."

"What? Gary?" Amy asked, incredulously. "You're lying."

"No, I'm not. I no longer have anything to gain in lying."

A hiss.

A reptilian form emerged from the bushes to their left. A solitary raptor. At least, she hoped it was solitary. It leapt in front of Rossiter. The CEO ran in the other direction. Vincent and Amy, weaponless, had nothing to do but the same.

All three were split up. Amy arrived back at the stream ten minutes later, after racing through the forest. Vincent was already there. Rossiter was gone.

He was on his own again.

-----------------------------------------------

Chapter Forty-Six

For Queen and Country

Previously...

-"We did it!" Levine cheered. The truck swerved left, turning to 168 Ocean Drive.

Levine heard the 1st Cavalry soldiers hailing them. They were shouting at them, telling them to stop.

"Where are we going!" Levine shouted over his headset.

Campbell didn't respond.-

-"We have to get out of here!" Hemple started. "The replica… It planted a bomb."

Hemple looked up to the roof. A flash of light forced both men to duck and shield their eyes. A cloud of blue-white slowly enveloped the BioSyn HQ. As it covered the building it created a sound of a heavy avalanche. Sand poured from beneath the cloud of energy.

Hemple looked back at the HQ. He could see a doorway leading into the basement. It was unlocked, as far as he could see.

"I have an idea!" Hemple announced.—

There was complete darkness and complete silence in the armoured bunker. Helen Cutter's clone army had moved on several hours ago, and Helen herself had other matters to see to. The bunker was sealed, but it was only a matter of time before the creatures found a way in.

The yellow lights at the tram platform flickered into life. At the same moment, a new sound became just about audible. It was a very faint rumbling sound, echoing down the tram-line. As it got closer, the sound became clearer and clearer.

At last, the single tram carriage rolled into view, and slowed to a halt. Just as the engine hushed, the doors squealed open, and two men stepped out.

"What the hell just happened?" Lieutenant Mason managed to form a sentence in between sharp coughs. His throat was full of sand. He and Hemple had sprinted through the lower levels of the BioSyn headquarters as the building collapsed around them. That had been no ordinary bomb. As they ran, they saw concrete walls and columns disintegrate into dust before their very eyes. He and Hemple had theorized on the tram that the bomb was future technology, acquired by Helen Cutter. The possible explanations they'd batted around numbered in the dozens – some sort of chemical gas; airborn bacteria; sonic waves; invisible lasers; radiation; even microscopic nanobots. One thing was certain – it would have affected them too, had they not kept one step ahead of it the whole way to the tram station. Still, they had got several lungfulls of dust along the way, and they had been coughing it up for the whole tram journey.

After a few minutes of coughing, Hemple spoke up. "We should see if there's any drinking water around here. My throat's nearly destroyed."

The pair of them left the platform, and fumbled their way through the darkened corridors. The station was the only part of the bunker that was lit – Helen's replica army must have all left by now. The further they got from the platform, the less the two soldiers could see.

At the end of the twilight zone, where the light cast by the platform light finally ended, Mason just about made out something in the ceiling above them. He tapped Hemple on the shoulder, and directed him to look up.

It was a square shape, that's all it was possible to make out. Hemple motioned for Mason to climb on his shoulders to get a better look. Once the lieutenant was suspended an extra four feet in the air, he could reach up to the square and feel it. It was definitely 3D. The rim of the square stuck out from the wall. And then Mason felt what he'd been looking for – a handle. He firmed his grip on it, and pulled clockwise. The handle complied, and a metallic screeching was heard. Then, the steel trapdoor swung open, hitting Mason across the forehead. Mason fell to the hard floor, onto his back. Hemple pulled Mason up, and waved his hand across his plane of vision. "How many fingers?"

Mason had a splitting pain on his temple, but otherwise he was fine. "Three."

As Hemple lifted Mason up, a shiny, metallic ladder slid down from the trapdoor. It was lit up by a greenish-coloured shaft of light, shining down through the trapdoor. This was their escape avenue. Hemple pulled the silver revolver out of its holster, and ascended first. Mason readied his shooting arm, and followed.

They emerged into dense forest. A thick canopy above their heads blocked most of the sun's rays, and everything in their vicinity was lit with a greenish tint. Thick tree-trunks and an opaque underbrush of ferns and shrubbery, which extended up to the hips in some places, blocked most of their vision in any direction.

Well, except one direction.

Immediately behind them was a defunct fence. It stretched at least one hundred feet into the air, way above the canopy. It must have been the perimeter fence.

There was just one important question – were they inside the park, or outside?

"What do you think?" Mason asked Hemple.

Hemple stared intensely at the fence. While Mason was trying to gauge where they were from the layout of the bunker they'd just come from, Hemple's mind seemed to be elsewhere. It was like he was looking on this fence as the source of his problems. His eyes were fixed, his brow creased intently.

After a few seconds, he wordlessly lifted the steel hatch, and lowered himself back into the bunker.

"You looking for a map?" Mason asked.

"Yeah," Hemple muttered as he dismounted the ladder. "Stay up here. I'll only be a few minutes."

Obviously Mason followed anyway without a thought. He felt his way along the walls, making sure to remember which way they were headed in the tunnels. Following the captain's footsteps, Mason figured out that they were both going straight ahead, ignoring the side corridors and doorways.

By sheer dumb luck, the room at the end of this corridor was just the one they were looking for. It was like a communications hub, with several television screens and radio terminals that they couldn't get to work. Mason doubted very much that this place ran on the same power-supply as the park itself – after all, those lights in the replica room had worked. So obviously Helen's people must have manually shut down their facilities later.

They did find several maps of this bunker, and the park itself. The maps showed the main exit point of the bunker – a huge hidden doorway, large enough for an aircraft. According to the maps, this second hatch-doorway they'd just found led outside the perimeter fence. So if they walked on from there, they'd find civilisation, and hopefully it would be relatively safe. Their mission was still the same as it had been when they'd left the others – to find rescue for them.

XXXX

"Where are we going!" Levine shouted over his headset. Campbell wasn't listening. "Campbell, can you hear me?" No reply. Was the headset broken?

Campbell drove the truck along the main street, eventually slowing down and stopping at a barricade. A group of soldiers jogged over to the driver's window and addressed Campbell. Levine used the opportunity to find out what was going on.

One of the soldiers, a young man, was asking Campbell several questions. "What's your name? What's your business here?", etc. Levine was busy climbing down from the platform. Then he walked over to the head-keeper.

"Campbell, what the hell was that?" he shouted, ignoring the soldiers. "Didn't you see the soldiers waving at you?"

Campbell looked baffled. "What? I didn't hear anything…"

Levine reached over to Campbell's ear and tugged the ear piece out. He took a look at it. It looked normal, but he knew better. Levine threw it to the ground, and it smashed. "Broken."

Just as the soldiers addressed their tedious questions at Levine, his earpiece coughed into life. "Levine! What's going on over there?" It sounded like Major Powers, that stubborn bigot from Delta.

"Major Powers. We've experienced a technical glitch. Don't worry, we're working through it, trust me." Levine was about to turn the earpiece off when Powers interrupted.

"Where are you? Our surveillance team have discovered a swarm of tiny dinosaurs that must have escaped the park. They're circling the outskirts of the city. Could you two help us take care of them?"

Those Delta soldiers would probably just shoot first, ask questions later. This was a job for the experts.

Levine turned to Campbell. "You up for it?"

Campbell nodded. Levine looked to one of the soldiers, and pulled his earpiece out, and threw it to Campbell. Before the soldier could grab him, Levine jumped on the ladder and shouted, "drive!" Campbell slammed the throttle, and they were away before the treadheads knew what hit them.

Levine remounted the cannon platform aboard the fire-truck. He readjusted his earpiece for comfort, and tested the connection. "Campbell, do you read me?"

"Loud and clear, Levine."

Levine then went back to his conversation with Powers. "Where are these creatures?"

...

They soon left the city, and drove along increasingly rough and unserviced side-roads. Levine held on tight to the handles of the water-gun. He thought Campbell might have driven a little more carefully…

...

Campbell ploughed on down the roads, getting further from the city until eventually the canopy closed in above them, and the tarmac stopped. The fire-engine must have been an odd sight from outside.

He spoke into his earpiece. "How you holding out up there, Levine?"

"Barely," came the reply.

Campbell carried on regardless. They were now going through a layer of ferns and grasses, where the track can't have been used for years. He could barely see where he was going. So far, he'd been partly following Powers' directions, and partly following the helicopters he could see overhead. Now he couldn't see anything overhead through the trees, so he went back to directions. "Powers, where next?"

"Follow that track, and you should meet up with our operatives somewhere along there. You'll go in together."

Another voice came through on the earpiece. "Campbell, there's something up ahead!" It was Levine.

...

From his elevated position, Levine could see over the ferns, and there was something ahead of them. It looked big – maybe thirty feet long. It was definitely moving.

"What do you see?" Campbell asked.

"I think it's one of the creatures—"

The animal turned, and started moving at an impressive pace towards them.

Levine braced. "Campbell, look out!"

Campbell swerved, but too late. The Triceratops smashed its formidable horns into the front windscreen, and swung it backwards and sideways at the same time. The whole vehicle rose briefly into the air, before smashing back down and sliding backwards. Levine held onto the deluge gun as hard as he could. The truck overturned, and gravity dragged Levine off his feet, as he felt another furious bang from the dinosaur. His earpiece fell out. Still he held on, but he was slipping.

Levine could see the roadside trees getting closer. He forced his eyes shut.

The whole truck, now on its side, smashed into the trunks. The back-end was largely untouched though, and now it jack-knifed around a massive tree-trunk that was holding the cab in place. Levine finally fell off his perch. He reached his arms out in front to protect his face. He started rolling. He felt himself descend a steep slope. Thorns scratched his clothes, but his face was safe.

He felt the ground leave him.

He opened his eyes, and screamed.

He was falling down towards a stream, about forty feet below him. The rocks looked sharp.

Levine looked back at the cliff-face behind him. He reached out and grabbed a vine. He swung onto it, and his fall stopped abruptly. He felt his stomach lurch, and then his hands started slipping on the vine. He decided to let himself go smoothly downwards. He looked below him; he had plenty of length.

With about ten feet to go, his hands were burning like hell. He couldn't take it anymore. He let go, and landed feet-first on the streamside gravel.

Pain shot up the tendons of his legs. That was too soon. He fell backwards, and let the cool water of the stream wash over him.

He relaxed. He had no idea where he was, of what was going on, or if he was injured, but he was alive.

He heard crashing vegetation, and then remembered something he'd forgotten about.

The fire-engine careered over the lip of the cliff, and fell down towards Levine. He was frozen to the spot with terror.

And then it stopped.

Levine opened his eyes.

A thick barrier of vines was now somehow holding the whole fire-truck in place, suspended above Levine.

The scientist wasted no time, and scrambled to his feet. This time he ignored the pain, and ran as fast as he could for the edge of the ravine.

Once he'd got his bearings, he started climbing. He had to find Campbell.

He grabbed another vine, and winced at the pain of his raw palms. He hauled himself up, and reached for another vine. He put his foot down on a jutting piece of rock.

The rock disintegrated, and Levine slipped off his vines, landing in a heap on the ravine floor. There had to be a better way. He looked around for an obvious way up, but there was none. He'd have to dive into the vegetation, and find a smooth way upwards.

...

He now stood at the top of the cliff again. The back of the truck was gone, and just the cab remained. That explained how the vines could hold it in place. Now he just had to get to Campbell. By the looks of things, the driver's seat was eight or nine feet out from the lip, with the front wheels limply spinning in mid-air.

Levine reached for his earpiece, but found nothing there. He remembered that he'd lost it.

He'd have to climb out there. Levine approached the driver's door, still on the cliff-edge, and took a look at the situation. On second thoughts, there had to be an easier way than actually climbing out there. He started with shouting. "Campbell! Are you conscious?"

"Yeah!" came the reply. "There was a whole herd of them over there! They're all out of the park!"

"We'll discuss all that later, Campbell. Those vines aren't going to hold for much longer. Have you called Powers for support?"

"My earpiece got smashed!"

"OK," Levine said. "Open your door, and I'll grab you." He approached the cliff-edge, trying not to look down. Campbell opened his door, and threw his rifle towards Levine, before standing up in the doorframe, and looking out. Now Levine saw his face. He was basically unhurt, except for a small scratch on his right cheek.

Campbell's focus shifted to something behind Levine. He pointed.

Levine looked back. There, emerging from the thick undergrowth, was a huge Triceratops. It was focused on the truck, and it looked angry.

Levine now realised that the reason they'd chosen to drive the fire-truck in the first place – its red colour would attract some animals – was the exact reason they were now in deep trouble.

The Triceratops brushed the ground with its front foot, and sized them up. Another two Triceratops now bounded out of the underbrush to join him.

Levine turned to Campbell. "OK, I think now is a good time to get moving!"

Campbell took a deep breath, and braced for a jump. He pushed off from the doorframe, and leapt into the air. Levine heard the triceratops charge just as Campbell grabbed his arm. The weight of the keeper's body pulled him downwards, and together they fell off the cliff. Campbell grabbed onto the foremost wheel of the truck, and after spinning around once, it came to rest.

The vines snapped as the ceratopsians collided with the vehicle, and together they freefell.

Campbell let go off the wheel and kicked off the cliff-face. Together, they were sent away from the hulk, and finally landed in a patch of vegetation. It wasn't quite the soft landing Levine had been hoping for, but they survived.

With a thunderous crash, the cab smashed onto the ground. Steel and glass flew over their heads.

Levine peeked out from the vegetation. All was still again.

Now that Levine took a look at it, that cliff-face looked awfully unstable. Cracks were set into the rock. The torrential downpour last night can't have been good for its general integrity.

The Triceratops above roared aloud in triumph, and stamped the ground.

With a rumble, the entire top of the cliff – a huge chunk of rock – fell loose, and crushed the wrecked truck. It was followed by more massive chunks which started rolling down the hill at a tremendous pace. And they were coming straight for Levine.

"Campbell, run!" he shouted. Together, they sprinted through the forest, away from the rockfall. Within minutes, they'd lost all sense of their location. Now they were really lost.

XXXX

Hemple and Mason marched side by side towards… well, God knows where. They weren't walking anywhere anymore. Hemple was just walking in a direction, and trying to stick to it. If they kept to a straight line, then maybe they'd be able keep track of their position. But with no compass, no GPS, no satellite link-up, nothing, that effort was basically pointless. It was about twenty minutes into their blind trek that Hemple realised that they probably should have gone back to the park, as the rescue operation was probably already underway. He was just too exhausted and disorientated to think straight. He hadn't slept at all in that weapons cache the previous night. He was feeling the pinch now. His mistake was eating at him, but he was too proud to turn back now. Mason had probably realised the same thing long ago, so if he wanted to go back, he could raise the point any time he wanted.

Mason stopped and leaned against a mossed tree-trunk to take a gulp of water from the bottle he'd been carrying in his jacket pocket. Hemple took the opportunity to take a rest. He'd lost his water during the race through the BioSyn HQ, but he hadn't mentioned anything to Mason about it.

After a minute, Hemple asked Mason a question. "What's Becker like?"

Mason considered the question. "Very good. Professional. Level-headed."

"Ah." Hemple had barely thought about the next question before it came out. "Is he better than me?"

Mason was surprised at this. "Uh, no. I never really compared, I suppose."

Hemple heard a footfall. He put a single index finger to his lips, and Mason stopped talking. Together, they faced in the direction of the noise. Both of them drew out their firearms – a pistol, and that pretentious silver revolver of Rossiter's.

A hand reached out of the undergrowth and pulled the leaves apart. Howard Rossiter's face revealed itself.

Mason sighed and lowered his pistol. Hemple took another couple of seconds to do the same.

"Rossiter, how did you get here?" asked Mason.

"The… the…" he spluttered, climbing out of the fernery into their clearing. "Predators attacked. Megamyotids…"

"Future predators?" asked Mason.

"Yes… we all scattered…"

"Where are the others?" Hemple demanded.

"I… I… it all happened so fast…"

Hemple grabbed Rossiter by the throat and pushed him up against a nearby tree-trunk. "Where are they?"

"I don't know! I…"

Hemple pushed against Rossiter's stomach. "Then what do you know?"

"I saw two of the keepers, but no one else. That's all I know."

"You don't know very much, do you?" Hemple withdrew and let Rossiter slide to the ground. The CEO was clearly exhausted, with bags under his bloodshot eyes. He also had a selection of scratches and bite-marks across his face, arms and legs. His once immaculate hair was now a mess, and his clothes partly torn in places.

Mason lowered to his knees and inspected Rossiter's wounds. "Any headaches, nausea?"

"No, not other than the stress…"

Hemple picked up his revolver, and shook his head. "Stress…"

Mason continued. "How long ago did this happen? The attack?"

"I have no idea, it's all a blur…"

"You know you're outside the park now?" Hemple asked.

"Yes."

"I'm curious… how did you get past the perimeter fence?" Hemple continued.

"I have a key…"

"Which you didn't tell us about?"

"It didn't seem important."

"Huh. And another thing… you must have known you were leaving the park, if you unlocked the gates to get out. So you were just running away, to save your own skin?"

"Now, what would you have done?"

Hemple started walking back to Rossiter. "You had a key! You could have saved all the others! Got them out of the park!"

"I couldn't find any of them! It was pointless!" Rossiter got up now, ready to argue his corner. "I wanted to help with the rescue effort!"

"Liar!"

"Sir!" Mason grabbed Hemple's attention just as he was about to raise his fist.

Mason was pointing away, down towards a deep gully. Hemple and Rossiter both went out to see what was down there. Hemple pushed vegetation aside for a better view.

A large, four-legged dinosaur, a herbivore, with a bizarre crest sprouting from the top of its head, was drinking at the rivulet. It was horribly injured, with a chunk taken out of its side. It was weak.

Hemple descended the easy slope into the ravine, followed by Rossiter. "Could this attract the dinosaurs?"

"Yes, probably. The smell of blood will be attracting carnivores." Rossiter had stopped walking. "And this would be a good place to spring an ambush."

Hemple finally stopped, and felt the soothing wind in his face. A gentle breeze blew through this canyon. The canopy parted here, allowing fresh air to descend. "What about raptors?"

"I don't know," Rossiter replied. "It depends on when they've fed. They won't eat if they're not hungry…"

"I thought these were supposed to be mindless killing machines?"

"Well, that was the opinion InGen took, but it would appear that after more than two decades on Isla Sorna, with a steadily depleting food supply, they learned to be less wasteful. They only feed occasionally, and are rarely seen…"

Hemple heard a new sound. It was like a whistling noise. It was joined by a croaking, and more whistles. A new creature. There were lots of them.

"What is it?" asked Mason, who'd just reached the canyon floor.

Hemple turned to him. "Get out of here now! Go! Something's coming!" He started running, and grabbed a stunned-looking Rossiter, pulling him along.

Together, the three of them started their ascent. They grabbed briars and vines, and heaved themselves up the side of the ravine. They could hear the large dinosaur behind them making strange honking noises. The captain looked back to see the herbivore charging towards Mason, who was several yards across from Rossiter and Hemple. Hemple saw the attacker now – a pack of tiny, green dinosaurs, which were now swarming all over the bigger herbivore, biting at its wound, and any softer parts they could find. In a show of blind, pain-driven rage, the dinosaur flung itself at Mason. It pulled him off the slope, and flung him backwards, onto the gravelly canyon floor.

"Mason!" Hemple jumped off the slope and ran for his lieutenant. Mason was on the far side of the dinosaurs. Hemple would have to go around.

It all happened in a few seconds. The herbivore fell limply to the ground, and resigned itself to its fate. The swarm started its feast. A few of them noticed Mason, who was standing up just a few metres away from them. They jumped off the herbivore and launched onto Mason, biting at his exposed skin. Mason fell backwards, trying to bat the creatures off himself. His struggles only grabbed the attention of more of them. Hemple ran towards the melee, before being confronted by a line a dozen more of the brutes. They started gnawing at his heels. Hemple tried to make his way towards Mason, but it was too late. The stream had been stained blood-red, and Mason wasn't moving anymore.

Hemple ran for the treeline. He managed to dislodge the buggers one by one, and returned to the forest.

He collided with Rossiter, who was also running. He'd never stopped running.

Both of them fell onto their backs. Rossiter tried frantically to stand up. Hemple reached over and dragged him back downwards. He couldn't keep it in anymore. He pulled Rossiter to face upwards, and he punched him across the face. He punched him again. And again. And again. He punched him until he fell back from exhaustion.

---------------------------------------------

Chapter Forty-Seven

A Wal-Mart in Vamo

'Useful,' and 'necessity' was always 'the tyrant's plea'. – C. S. Lewis

"So, what exactly do you have at this facility?"

Ian Malcolm was following Helen Cutter to her mysterious facility. From what he had gathered, it contained their anomalies, and the creatures still infected with DX. But he wanted to get the truth from the horse's mouth.

It was drawing towards evening again. They were traversing the traffic-clogged streets of Miami towards the facility, which was downtown.

"Well," Helen replied, "I'm assuming that by now you know about the anomalies. They're all on one spot, kept closed by powerful electromagnetic technology. It was discovered by accident a few months ago in Siberia, and I… stood on their shoulders. We open them only one at a time, to avoid contaminating parts of the past. You would have been proud, Ian."

"So…" Malcolm decided to gloss over that, "anything else?"

"There are a few creatures there. The ones that were infected with DX. Research into a cure is ongoing. That's taking place at the facility."

"How do you know that your trips to the past aren't going to create something even worse? I mean, stepping on a butterfly is one thing, but actually introducing a foreign pathogen? Just look at what happened to the Native Americans when the Europeans brought flu and smallpox, and that was just thirteen thousand years separating them. How can you possibly predict what's going to happen?"

"Oh, Ian, you and your chaos theories…"

They arrived at an unremarkable concrete building, with no windows. There was just one floor. The walls stretched off to their right, towards a driveway and a car-park.

"Cutter," Malcolm said, stopping her. "You speak to me as if you know me. And, as far as I can remember, we've never met."

"To me, we have. You will meet me. Hopefully, though, you won't have to." He was a little taken aback to see what looked like a tear in her eye. "Come on, let's go."

…

Danny watched them walk into the strange building. He'd followed them here. He was a little confused as to why Doctor Malcolm was following a mad-woman who'd tried to kill them all.

Once they were both inside, Danny quickly crossed the road and followed them.

…

Helen led Malcolm down a short corridor. At the end, he could see a wider room.

"OK, so maybe you think you can control what you're doing. But Connor Temple told me something interesting this morning. Apparently, your 'megamyotids', those super-predators, are breeding."

Helen stopped in her tracks, and looked Malcolm straight in the eye. "You wouldn't lie to me."

"I'm not."

"He's telling the truth!"

The voice came from behind them. A figure emerged from the darkness. It was Danny Quinn. He bore a fresh cut on his forehead.

"I'm guessing these 'super-predators' are the grey, clawed, skull-faced things I saw in a shed back near the park. They were babies. Those things are breeding."

Helen was speechless. Wordlessly, she carried on walking down the corridor.

Malcolm started to follow her. Danny grabbed him from behind.

"What are you doing following her? She tried to kill me. And she cut the power."

"That's precisely why I'm following her. To see if she did. And I gotta be honest, she's no longer the prime suspect." Malcolm carried on after Helen.

"What?" Danny said after him.

Malcolm arrived in a small room at the end of the corridor. The walls were lined with notice-boards and chalk-boards. Pinned to the notice-boards were maps, satellite images, CAT scans, analysis printouts, bar-charts, pie-charts, schedules and miscellaneous notes. At the middle of the room, a man with black hair and prominent stubble was sitting, tied to a chair, facing him. Standing beside him were two black-clad soldiers, bearing assault rifles. Both were young men, maybe in their twenties. The guarded man was older, maybe in his thirties. Helen was standing at a desk at the other side of the room, going through piles of notes. The two soldiers looked a bit at a loss at what to do in the situation.

"Who's this guy?" Malcolm asked, pointing at the tied-up man.

"Douglas Ketterman," Helen replied. "My spy."

"So much for the element of surprise," the bestubbled Ketterman muttered groggily.

"Oh?" Malcolm pulled out his notepad. "Could I ask you a few questions?"

"I'd rather not," Ketterman answered, clutching his forehead. "I've got one hell of a hangover…"

"It'll only be a few. I'll start at the beginning: how did you get involved with Helen Cutter?"

It had been a private affair. A woman was looking to hire an agent on a regular basis. Ketterman answered the call.

It was February 2010. This woman had arranged to meet in a small Indian restaurant in Portland, Oregon, called the 'Taj Mahal'.

Ketterman was a few minutes late. Helen was already sitting at a table beside the window. She was dressed in casual clothes, and was wearing leather gloves. As Ketterman walked in, Helen stood up, and they shook hands.

"Mister Ketterman, thank you for seeing me. I understand it was quite a journey here."

"Hey, anything for a client." They both sat down. Ketterman took out the menu.

"Actually, we won't be staying long," Helen said, pulling the menu down with her gloved hand.

"Really? What, we can't even have a drink?" He smiled.

Helen smiled back, somewhat forcedly. "I'm sure you'll be happy to find out that your particular job will involve you staying in your hometown. Miami."

"Then why are we in Portland?"

"I wanted to show you something here. It's vital for your job."

"Oh? What would that be?"

"I'll get to that later. First, I want to give you a bit of… perspective, on your future job. I will require your service for six months. There's an ongoing project in Miami which, once it has reached its conclusion, will be an important step forward."

"For who?"

"For my company. BioSyn, you may have heard of them."

"Can't say that I have."

"They've been out of the spotlight for quite some time. Anyway, this project may be in danger from people who want to… close it down. They may believe it's too dangerous. Really, they're doing what they think is right, but the project is perfectly under control, and nearing completion."

"And you want me to…"

"Keep an eye on them. From what I've heard, you'll be more than willing, given the right salary…"

Ketterman smiled. "What are you offering?"

"We'll deal with the details later. Now, I need to show you that something."

…

"Smith, get this crate!"

Ketterman, under the alias of Private Matthew Smith, grabbed an iron crate and loaded it onto the back of the modified Toyota Hilux.

His commanding officer, Owen Clarke, turned away and tended to something else. While he was unseen, Ketterman slipped out of sight.

The ARC team was now dealing with the clean-up after a major anomaly incident at an airport. Helen had had him planted here to keep tabs on the team, in case they caught wind of the park.

Around the side of the hangar, Ketterman took out his phone and dialled Helen's number.

"Cutter," he whispered, "I have a name. Danny Quinn. He's a policeman who's been poking around a couple of anomalies. I got a photo of him; I'll send it to you now."

"Good work, Ketterman. I have another task for you. Meet me in Miami."

…

They arranged to meet under an old oak tree in a small park in Miami. It was their usual rendezvous location in Florida.

This time, Ketterman was first to arrive. He was still late, but not as late as Helen.

Helen turned up after ten minutes.

"I have the details of your assignment," she said. "Some mole, Richard Levine, has somehow got photos of the park. I don't know how, but he has them. I want you to tail him. I have a feeling he may try to contact someone about it. Maybe the ARC, maybe even the government."

…

Ketterman sat in a silver BMW M5. It was his own car.

He was wearing his sunglasses. Across the street was a coffee shop. Outside, a man in his late forties was standing by himself, looking a little agitated. This was Colonel Bill Hopper. He was waiting to meet with Richard Levine. Ketterman had checked out Levine's home computer, and searched through his Sentbox on Hotmail. This was the place.

Sure enough, the tall, middle-aged man crossed the road right in front of Ketterman. Levine walked up to the Colonel. After a few words, they went into the coffee shop.

Ketterman took a walkie-talkie out from underneath a few newspapers on the passenger seat. He spoke into it. "Levine is entering coffee shop with Hopper. I'm enacting radio silence. I'm going in." He switched the radio off, and made for the shop door.

Hopper and Levine were already sat down at a table, in discussion.

Ketterman sat down on a cushioned seat at the window, a few feet from Levine's seat. He was close enough to hear their conversation. Ketterman took out a notepad and pencil, and pretended to be doodling. After a few seconds, he slipped a tape recorder out from his shirt pocket, turned it on, and set it onto the seat beside him.

He recorded the rest of their short conversation. They stood up and left the coffee shop. Ketterman quickly turned the recorder off, and put it, the notepad and the pencil away. Then he followed them outside.

They got into Hopper's car and drove away. Ketterman hurried to his own car and set off in pursuit. While tailing them, he spoke into his walkie again.

"I'm back. Levine showed the photos to Hopper. They showed the creatures, and your clones."

"Good work, Ketterman." Helen was speaking into the other side. "Where are they now?"

"Hopper's driving Levine somewhere, probably to his base. He said he doesn't expect it to go far…"

"Well, better safe than sorry. I won't compromise this project. I'll organise another alias for you."

…

"Desmond Frift?" Ketterman looked over the details of his new identity. They were remarkably watertight, although this wasn't the first time Helen had come up with something like this. He was due to be a caretaker at the Delta Force base outside Miami.

"I want you to find out some more details of this operation. Who Levine will be working for, and who with."

Ketterman was up for the challenge.

XXXX

"These are the tickets I need you to plant."

Ketterman had completed his task at the military base, and was getting his next one. He and Helen had met under the old oak tree again.

"You need to go to London, and tail the ARC team again," Helen told him. "These tickets are nine out of Rossiter's one hundred. The serial numbers say they were distributed to a Wal-Mart in the town of Vamo."

"Won't the mall be wondering where they got to?" Ketterman asked.

"There is no Wal-Mart in Vamo," Helen answered. "It doesn't matter how you plant them. They'll be so desperate to get into this park, they'll use them."

"And why do you want them in this park, if I may ask?"

Helen looked down for a moment. "I guess I just… After all that's happened between us, I feel as if I should really show them what I've helped to create. It might ease relations. But in any case, I need you to go to London. Meet me back here after you arrive. Midnight. Then I'll tell you what to do next."

…

Opening day. Ketterman was in London, for the second time in twenty-four hours. He was away from the action. That was really where he preferred to be. He'd already seen the creatures, the anomalies, the clones, all of it. He didn't care much for it. He had another job to do.

After planting the tickets, Helen had sent him back to England to find one Sarah Page, and bring her to the park. He didn't know why, but he seldom questioned orders.

Helen had already prepared an alias for him. Private Matthew Smith. She had given him an ID card to get into the ARC without being asked any questions. There, he could find Page.

He lifted her through the corridors of the ARC unnoticed. All of the security seemed to be assembling in Lester's office for some reason. Perhaps they were getting ready to go. Whatever the reason, no one was idly patrolling the corridors.

…

His latest job completed, Ketterman was drinking during the early hours of the morning.

He tried to call Helen to find out what was going to happen next.

She didn't answer.

She must have just been busy. That wasn't his problem.

"I'll start at the beginning: how did you get involved with Helen Cutter?" Doctor Malcolm began his interrogation.

"Old friends," Ketterman replied. He was in no mood to start answering questions.

"Ian, please," Helen called over. "That's really not necessary. I trust him."

"So, what, I should as well?" Malcolm walked over to her. "How do you know I trust you?"

Helen faced him, pulling a map out of the pile of sheets. "You should. I'm your best chance at survival."

With that, she left.

Malcolm followed.

Elsewhere, the two soldiers that had been guarding Ketterman walked over to Danny Quinn.

"Quinn… you're alive!" Hawkins said.

"Barely," Quinn replied. "Sorry I can't stay to chat, but I think I'm gonna go check out what those two are talking about. Shouldn't you be interested in that, too?"

"OK," Hawkins said, "Briggs, you stay here."

…

"Skinner!" Helen called.

"Helen, would you just… hold up!" Malcolm called. Helen ignored him.

Through a few more rooms and holding pens for creatures, they arrived at a hub. It was near-empty, save for a desk and large electrical contraption. A man was standing at the contraption's console, looking through notes. He was wearing a long, white lab-coat.

"Skinner!" Helen called again.

The man in white turned around. "Ms. Cutter? What's going on?"

"I have been informed that the power has been cut in the park. Can you get it back on?"

"No," Skinner replied. "I tried, but there's some kind of firewall in place. It's like nothing I've ever seen. It would take a super-computer weeks to crack it."

"Damn," Helen muttered, looking down. "They used my own technology against me…" She looked up at Skinner again. "Skinner, it doesn't matter anymore. The creatures are out. I need to deal with it another way. It won't be pretty, but it's necessary." She placed her hand on his shoulder. "Skinner, you've been a good scientist. A good ally. Now, do yourself a favour. Get as far away from here as you can."

She turned and walked away. There was a tall, short corridor leading down to a dead-end to the side. A bundle of wires and machinery was attached to the ceiling towards the end. Helen turned paused for a second, a few feet from the dead end.

Malcolm walked up to her. "What was all that about? 'My own technology'?"

"I fitted a super-powerful set of defences around my own section of the database. You can't get into the inner controls without cracking it. Whoever cut the power must have got through it, and then used it to stop anyone else undoing what they did. It was foolish of me not to let Skinner know about the firewall…"

"Wait… super-powerful? Where'd you get that from?"

"If you must know, Ian, I got it from the future. The same place I was able to make ID cards to allow my spy to break into the ARC."

"Wait, the future? Helen…"

"Ian, it doesn't matter. None of it does. Trust me." She pulled a strange device out of her pocket. It looked a little like a television remote control. She pointed it into thin air. She pressed a button. Suddenly, an explosion of sparks and shards erupted in the air. It was beautiful.

"Is this…" Ian said. He could barely finish.

"Yes," Helen replied. "I need to go. I need to finish it. All of it."

"What are you going to do?" Ian asked, without taking his eyes off the anomaly.

"Destroy the park by aerial bombardment."

Malcolm was wrenched from his speechless daze. "What?"

Helen back into the anomaly and disappeared. Before Malcolm could follow, the anomaly closed again.

"No… NO!" Malcolm swatted at thin air, trying to find some way of getting back to her.

The doctor walked back out to the man at the console. He looked similarly shocked.

"Open it!" Malcolm demanded.

Skinner started typing at the console again. Frustration came over him. "Dammit, she's done something. I can't override it…"

Malcolm looked back into the empty void where the anomaly had been.

"We need to get everybody out of that park!"

----------------------------------------------------

Chapter Forty-Eight

Terrible Things

Usually, terrible things that are done with the excuse that progress requires them are not really progress at all, but just terrible things. – Russell Baker

Lieutenant David Doody and Brian Lambert had survived the attack on the lobby. Now they were by themselves, trying to escape the park full of creatures. After a few close calls with Hyaenodonts, Doody had used up his remaining ammo. Brian was confident he could lead them to the visitor lodge, but it was quite a distance. It had already taken them several hours. From there they might be able to find rescue.

The sky was clear and blue. A slight breeze blew over the tips of the trees, but beneath the canopy, it barely touched them.

"Yeah, this is definitely it…" Lambert led Doody past several forest enclosures, and they came to a wooden complex. Doody recognised it as the visitor complex. It was almost entirely destroyed, with the roof collapsed in most places. The garden had been uprooted, the fountain overturned, and the courtyard covered with the dried palm leaves that had once covered the roof.

The only sign of survivors was the presence of many footprints in the caked mud.

"Hello?" Lambert called out.

Doody grabbed his shoulder, and put his finger to his lips. They didn't want to attract the wrong kind of attention.

They heard hurried footsteps coming around the next road. Lambert's call must have attracted some kind of attention.

To Doody's relief, it was humans who emerged onto the courtyard.

…

They were part of a rescue operation. The first load had already been transported back to the city. They'd found around a dozen survivors amongst the rubble, as well as Captain Becker and Miss Lewis nearby. No word on anyone else, though.

They were now waiting for the helicopters to return for a more extensive search-and-rescue. Doody insisted on staying and helping out with the mission.

After an hour of waiting on the courtyard, the sound of helicopters reached them. They couldn't see the far horizon over the trees that surrounded the courtyard. The sounds got louder and louder, and eventually, the choppers arose over the branches. They slowed down, and landed around the collapsed lodge. There were six of them. Each one bore the United States flag, and either an 'A' or a 'B', painted on the side.

Lambert got onto one of the helicopters. With so much room left, they unanimously decided to wait for more survivors to show up before taking him out. Meanwhile, four other helicopters set off into the park. Doody went with one of them, an 'A' helicopter.

With Doody in the chopper were two soldiers, Private Dom Hannigan, and Private Wilhelm Burke; and their pilot, Alex Savile. The two soldiers were both armed with carbines.

They took off over the forest enclosures and began the survey.

…

Brian sat in the grounded helicopter. A few soldiers and pilots were in discussion across the courtyard. A few of them were speaking into walkie-talkies.

Brian was drinking a plastic cup of cheap Lager Lite, which the soldiers had salvaged from the wreckage. It wasn't particularly tasteful, but he just didn't care much anymore. He wanted to leave. He had to sit here, and wait until any other survivors arrived. After seeing what had happened here since he left, he didn't like any else's chances.

A thud.

It was distant, and soft.

Probably nothing, Brian thought.

Again. Just slightly stronger this time.

A third.

Ripples played across the surface of the beer.

A fourth.

New ripples collided with the old ones.

A fifth. Stronger again.

They were getting closer together.

A sixth.

The fuselage was thrown violently to the right. Brian fell with it. Everything was thrown out of its place. The beer spilt. The helicopter rested on its side, and Brian hit the ground through the open door.

Another shove. The helicopter was lifted onto its blades, upside-down.

On the ground, Brian was left behind. He was sitting below one colossal belly. Giant three-toed talons supported the bulk of the huge tyrannosaur. Its massive skull, full of razor teeth, lowered to inspect the morsel that had just fallen out of the steel shell. It sniffed him. Brian caught the scent of its breath. It was gagworthy.

The sound of gunshots. A few splatters of blood trickled down the rex's side. It looked upwards to see what had attacked it. It walked away, and left Brian.

Brian stood off the ground. His clothes were covered in mud, but he didn't pay much notice. The dinosaur was pacing towards a group of five soldiers, all firing their carbines at it. Each footstep shook the earth.

A few feet between them, the men scattered. Three ran into the ruins and tried to find shelter. Two ran in the opposite direction, out onto the courtyard.

That was a mistake.

The tyrannosaur picked one. It walked a few paces to close the distance, and then opened its massive jaws. It grabbed him around the torso. With a scream, the soldier was lifted off the ground. He was thrown up into the air, and he fell right into the Rex's awaiting throat.

While the Rex pursued the other soldier still in the open, Brian made for the ruined building.

As quietly as he could, he walked around towards the back entrance.

The Tyrannosaur backed towards him.

A tail-swipe came right in his direction.

Brian fell to the ground.

He just missed it.

He felt the breeze that came in its wake.

Quickly, Brian pushed himself up and ran to the lodge. He ran around the back. After judging the state of the buildings, he decided to change target and ran into the Hotel Triassica.

Inside, he was greeted by a few soldiers, and two pilots.

"A T-Rex…" Brian panted, falling against the wall. "Out… the courtyard…" he pointed in the dinosaur's general direction.

"Come on, we need to get to the choppers," said one of the soldiers. He cocked his rifle.

…

The sun was setting now. Pink and orange hues mixed across the clouds now forming in the sky. Doody's chopper was hovering over the T-Rex enclosure.

"Nah, there's nothing here…" Hannigan said, throwing the binoculars to one side. "Not even the tyrannosaurs."

"They must have all got out already," Doody remarked, still searching.

"There's a comforting thought," pilot Savile said. "Are we moving out, then?"

"Yeah," Doody sighed, throwing the binoculars aside. Burke did the same. The pilot made its way back towards the lodge. Around them, the other three copters followed their lead.

Savile's radio buzzed and coughed into clarity. A voice came through. "Calling all helicopters. Assistance required at the lodge. A tyrannosaur has attacked. Back-up needed ASAP."

Savile lifted the receiver. "Roger that, Team Alpha Second on its way. Over and out."

…

Brian's group stood at the back door, crowded around one soldier, who was peaking through the curtains. The soldier was young, with cropped black hair.

"It's pacing back and forth," the soldier said. "Waiting for us. We wouldn't get four yards before he caught us."

"Then we wait for help," said one of the pilots. He was older, with greying hair and a short beard.

The Triassica's bottom floor wasn't nearly as destroyed as the rest of the complex. There was minimal evidence of the breakout here. The Postosuchus plinth still stood proudly as if nothing had happened.

A squeak.

It wasn't like a mouse's squeak, it was sharper.

A few of the group looked around for the source of the noise.

Whatever it was, it wasn't to be seen.

…

The helicopter rose over the trees, and the courtyard came into view again. The buildings were just as smashed as before, but now a helicopter lay upside down in the courtyard. The other copter was sitting behind the accommodation complex, unoccupied. Pacing around the building's walls was one of the Tyrannosaurs.

Savile spoke into his radio receiver again.

"Come in visitor lodge, Alpha Second in position over courtyard. Where are you positioned? Over."

"Inside the Hotel Triassica," came the reply. "We are unable to reach the copter with Tyrannosaur blocking us. Over."

"Roger that, stay in position. I think I can distract him. On my word, run for the chopper. Over."

"Roger. Message received. Over and out."

Savile replaced the receiver, gripped the controls, and dived at the dinosaur.

He pulled out of the dive just in time to avoid the Rex raise its head and roar straight at them. The sound of it shook the fuselage. The helicopter was destabilized. As the chopper tilted towards the dinosaur, Doody and Hannigan grabbed onto the higher doorway and hung on. Burke tried to hang on, but his hand slipped. As the tilt increased, the soldier slid backwards. His legs fell out through the other door. He hung onto the chopper for dear life, his legs hanging in mid-air.

"Hold on!" Doody called. The medic tried to come down to him. He reached out to a fixed cabinet handle half-way across the fuselage, between them.

He grabbed onto the handle. His other hand let go. He swung downwards. His whole weight was now being held by a thin, metal cabinet door, which was swinging dangerously. One hinge looked ready to go.

As it creaked under his weight, Doody tried to reach down to Burke. "Grab my hand! Quick!"

Burke slowly pushed one hand up to the medic. Only two feet separated them, but right then, right there, it seemed like a vast chasm of space.

The Rex opened its jaws and closed them on Burke's legs. It pulled down.

He screamed out.

He fell out of the chopper. The Rex held onto him, and began to devour him. The screams became drowned out in blood, and eventually ceased.

Doody looked away.

The cabinet door gave way.

Doody fell down through the fuselage. He just about managed to get a hold of the edge of the door, right where Burke had been.

"Savile!" he hollered, "Get us out of here!"

"I can't… pull her out of this…" The pilot's voice was strained.

With one swing, the chopper righted herself. Hannigan dropped onto the floor, and then staggered over to pull Doody back into the fuselage.

…

Inside the Triassica, Brian heard the squeak again. Then another. Then another. Then two at the same time. They were so regular, and so numerous, it was as if there was more than one.

A tiny green thing jumped onto the shoulder of one of the soldiers. He called out with pain, and tried to swat it off. It was biting him. It was drawing a lot of blood.

The other soldiers tried to bat it off him, but soon, green things were on top of them too. A swarm leapt onto the soldiers, scattering blood all over the walls.

Brian looked frantically around himself, watching for them.

The grey-haired pilot, with a green thing on his leg, spoke into the walkie. "Alpha Second, can we move now!"

"Yeah, sure," came the reply. "What's happening?"

The pilot ignored him, wrenched the thing off his leg, and made for the door. "Everybody to the copters! Now!"

They all ran out towards the chopper. It was just yards away. They could make it.

All around him, Brian could hear people screaming, and falling onto the ground. He just kept going.

He jumped into the chopper fuselage.

…

Doody collapsed onto the flat steel of the floor. He looked out to see a few more of the A and B helicopters arriving to help out. They seemed to know the drill. They all started circling the Rex, just out of its reach. The soldiers inside started firing their weapons on it. The Rex roared out with irritation. It started swinging its head at them, as if swatting at flies.

Behind the accommodation, they could see another helicopter lifting off. The survivors must have got out.

One of the B helicopters got just a little too close to the carnivore.

The Tyrannosaur swung its skull straight at the helicopters fuselage. Immediately, it was cast into the tree-trunks, and the steel body was crushed.

Savile spoke into his radio. "Come in Bravo Third! Any survivors?"

He waited for an answer.

None came.

Instead, after ten seconds, a new voice came through on the radio: "Alpha First speaking. Is everyone ready to go? Over."

Savile replied, "Affirmative from Alpha Third. Over."

Over the radio, the other helicopters replied their affirmations.

"Roger that," came Alpha First's voice again. "All Alpha and Bravo choppers moving out. Over and out."

Together, the convoy coalesced and flew out of the park, leaving the Rex to pick over what was left, under the sun-set.

XXXX

Grant, Connor and Abby weren't making good time. They'd already taken a wrong turn at the Parasaurolophus enclosure. They were now walking through the grassland section of the park. They were about to enter the forest section.

The walkie coughed into life again.

"Connor! Connor! Come in, dammit!" It was Danny.

Connor lifted the walkie out of his pocket. "Message received, Operative Quinn. Explain your transmission. Over." He was grinning from ear to ear, despite his efforts to remain cool, calm and collected. At least this had raised his spirits after what had happened.

"Connor, tell me you're out of the park! Please!"

"We're about halfway to the lodge, why? I mean, over. And… roger that. Over."

"Damn… you need to run. Get to the lodge. Get to the gate. Any way you can, get the hell out of there, now!"

"What… why?" His excitement was turning sour.

"Helen's about to bomb the place. We told her the future predators are breeding, and, well, she took it badly. You need to move. Get to the rescue helicopters, they must be back by now."

"Yeah, we saw them fly back a while ago. They should still be there-"

Connor's voice cracked away as he saw four helicopters rise from the trees ahead of them, turn away, and fly out of the park.

"OK," Connor said, "This is gonna be bad…"

--------------------------------------------

Chapter Forty-Nine

Equal and Opposite

Previously…

- Campbell turned around again. He looked Rossiter dead in the eye.

"How did you really get future creatures?" he asked.

"Time-travel."

Campbell raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"It's true. That facility contains wormholes in time, through which creatures from ages past and future can be collected."-

The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane. – Marcus Aurelius

Danny woke up on a hard bed. He opened his eyes slowly. He looked around the room, raising his head slightly. He was in a small hospital ward, with four beds. The other three were empty.

Danny found that he wasn't actually in the bed, just lying on the covers. He wasn't connected to anything, either.

He lifted his body into a sitting position, and then swung his legs around to the edge of the bed. Stiffly, he stood up.

He took a better look around. The walls were painted white. A few yellow noticeboards faced him, and featured a selection of charts and scans. The open door was to his left.

Danny rubbed his forehead, and tried to remember what had happened. The last thing he could recollect was walking after Doctor Malcolm and Helen. After that, nothing.

A doctor walked through the doorway. "Oh, you're awake!" She was a blonde woman, looking to be in her thirties, and was wearing a white coat. "How do you feel?"

"Fine, wh… what happened?"

"Sit down please." She walked over to him. He did as she told him. She pulled a seat over to the side of the bed, and shone small light in his eyes. "You just collapsed in the middle of the floor. Hawkins took you in to me."

Danny was somewhat pleased that he'd finally got a proper sleep. "How long was I out?"

"Oh, only fifteen minutes," she answered, turning off the light.

No wonder I'm still exhausted… Danny thought. "Who are you?"

"I'm Doctor Thorpe," she replied. She reached over to the bedside table, and picked up a roll of bandage. "I'm in charge of medical research…" She unrolled a length of bandage and measured it against Danny's forehead.

"What are you…" Danny was too exhausted to resist any more than moving his head back a little.

"You have a cut on your forehead," she explained. "Nah, you'll be fine." She rerolled the bandage, and put it back on the bed-side table.

"What research do you do?"

"I'm afraid that's rather confidential, Mister Quinn." She stood up, and put the chair away. "You should be fine. Goodbye." She walked away, towards where she had come. Danny suddenly remembered what he'd been doing when he collapsed.

He hurried out of the ward, through the corridor. He passed several side passages, and emerged into the room with the tied man. One of the soldiers was still with him. The other, who'd volunteered to go with Danny earlier, was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Helen?" Danny asked.

Before the soldier could reply, footsteps back the way Danny had come signalled the arrival of Doctor Malcolm, and the other soldier. They both seemed rather exasperated.

"Quinn!" Malcolm remarked. "Do you know who's left in the park?"

"I think Connor, Abby and Doctor Grant might still be," Danny answered. "Why?"

"Do you have any way of contacting them?"

"Uh…" he checked that the walkie was still in his pocket. "Yeah. Why?"

"You need to tell them to get out of there, now. As quickly as they can."

"What… why?"

"Helen's gonna bomb the park, dammit!" Hawkins interjected from behind Malcolm. The doctor looked a little annoyed that his moment had been stolen.

"He's telling the truth," Malcolm assured. "Just before she disappeared through that anomaly, she said it to me."

"Well, didn't you follow her?" Danny asked.

"No, she closed it, and Skinner said he couldn't re-open it."

Danny clenched his jaw, and pulled the walkie out of his pocket.

"Connor!" he said into it. "Connor! Come in, dammit!"

"Message received, Operative Quinn," came Connor's voice through the other end. "Explain your transmission. Over." That was getting a little out of hand.

"Connor, tell me you're out of the park!" Danny responded. "Please!"

"We're about halfway to the lodge, why? I mean, over. And… roger that. Over."

"Damn… you need to run. Get to the lodge. Get to the gate. Any way you can, get the hell out of there, now!"

"What… why?"

"Helen's about to bomb the place. We told her the future predators are breeding, and, well, she took it badly. You need to move. Get to the rescue helicopters, they must be back by now."

"Yeah, we saw them fly back a while ago. They should still be there-" A lengthy pause. "OK. This is gonna be bad…"

"What?" Danny asked. "What happened?"

"The helicopters just left the lodge."

"What, all of them?"

"Four, anyway."

"Look, there might still be some left. Just get to the lodge now. Run!"

"OK," Connor turned the walkie off.

Danny put the walkie away, and turned back to Malcolm. "Doctor Malcolm, you stay here. For some reason, Helen seems to trust you. So, if these scientists ever manage to get that anomaly open, you should go after her. And you need to hurry. You're our best hope."

"What about you?" Malcolm asked.

"I'm going to find Richard Levine."

"What? Why him? What could he…"

"If what he says is true, then he's in contact with the US military. And they're our best hope at stopping this."

"But what he's saying probably isn't true! I know this guy, and if you did, you'd realise how entirely unlikely his story is."

Danny ignored him. "Find Cutter, Malcolm. Let me deal with Plan B." With that, he left the facility.

…

"Richard Levine! Agent Levine!"

Danny had little idea of how to find this man in the expanse of Miami, so he had resorted to just calling out his name. Levine, Campbell, Hemple and Mason had all gone completely off the radar since leaving the complex. They were supposedly organising a rescue, but Danny had heard nothing from them since.

Danny came to the outskirts of the city, and beyond, the forest. He passed the tree-line, and continued calling. Still nothing.

"Quinn?"

It was Campbell's voice, from behind him.

"That was lucky!" Danny said, smiling, as he turned around.

"Not for you," Campbell said. His voice was stern. Danny turned to face him, and saw the rifle, raised and pointed straight at him.

"What… what's this for?" Danny asked, confused.

"It was you, wasn't it? You cut the power."

"Wha… What?"

"The code you told Temple to put into that computer. It was the emergency protocol to shut down the system."

"But… that's just stupid! What, seven numbers, and the whole park goes down? And it's a pretty bad password too. Who told you that?"

"…Rossiter…" Campbell looked down.

"Oh. That makes sense."

Richard Levine emerged form the bushes behind the head-keeper. "Campbell, put the gun down. He was calling my name."

"Agent Levine!" Danny exclaimed.

"I was wondering when someone would actually call me that outside the army…" he said, with a smile. "What's the problem?"

"Helen Cutter just disappeared through an anomaly. According to Doctor Malcolm, her last words involved telling us all that she planned on bombing the park to destruction."

"What… why?" Levine's face had slowly dropped over the course of Danny's speech.

"Because she caught wind that the future predators were breeding."

"They are?" Levine's face now turned to shock.

"Look, you know why I came to you. You need to tell the air-force, the army, whoever it was you were in contact with."

"Alright," Levine said. "Anything else?"

"No, that's everything we were told. You need to go now. I'm assuming you have a contact number?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Levine set off in the direction of the city.

"Quinn," Campbell said, "do you know who's still in the park?"

"Connor, Abby, and Doctor Grant for sure. I have no ideas about the others, though."

"How do you know about them?"

"Walkie," Danny took out the walkie, and showed it to him. "They said the complex was attacked after I left. They don't know who else survived."

"No idea about the visitor lodge?"

"The wooden building? I walked past it on the way out. It was destroyed."

Campbell's face dropped even further.

"Hello?" It was a voice from the trees.

Campbell wheeled around. "Amy?"

"Campbell!" The woman emerged through the trees. Danny recognised her as the blonde woman who'd replaced Campbell at the lodge. Perhaps she was the one Campbell had been worrying about.

"You're alive!" Campbell hugged her. Amy seemed somewhat less enthusiastic to embrace him.

A second person, a tall, blonde-haired man, emerged behind her. He was wearing the same keeper's uniform as Campbell and Amy.

"Well, at least that's two more people out of the park," Danny remarked.

By now, Campbell and Amy had separated again. "Campbell," Amy whispered, "that's the man who let the scorpions out…" She looked Danny up and down nervously.

"Oh," Campbell said, "He's fine."

…

"How dangerous is it back there?" Malcolm asked Harper. The two of them were standing alone in a facility storeroom, lit by a single bulb above their heads. Lockers and cabinets were situated around the walls of this dull, dusty room. At the time, Skinner was busy trying to get the console in working order. Malcolm was stuffing various supplies, including ample food rations and batteries, into a backpack he'd found in this room.

Harper replied, "Professor Skinner says it's the KT boundary, so that means large dinosaurs, including tyrannosaurs. Are you planning on going through?"

Malcolm didn't immediately answer the question. "How often do your men go back to the past?"

"As rarely as possible. There have been about forty missions from this facility, that I know of."

"And have you ever recorded any… how do I put this… changes?"

"You mean a Butterfly effect?" The Butterfly effect was a classic, if a horrifically overused, principle of chaos theory. It held that one minor, insignificant action in the present can cause major changes in the future. In essence, a butterfly flaps its wings in Japan, and changes the weather in New York. More recently, the phrase had been applied more and more to hypothetical time-travel scenarios, where a very minor change in the past could potentially have huge effects in the time-traveller's present. Even the time-traveller's very presence in the past could cause changes, without him moving a muscle – he could block air-currents, remove bacteria from the air by letting them land on his skin, or introduce new pathogens into the atmosphere by exhaling. In Malcolm's mind, the possibility and pursuit of time-travel had always seemed largely irrelevant: even if man were to unlock the secrets of time-travel, using it would have been far too risky.

But now, the revelation that there was a whole agency in Britain devoted to the study of wormholes in time, and the eras they linked to, changed everything. Had they changed anything before? Or did time have some way of… course-correcting itself? There was the pebble-in-a-stream theory, which posited that the stream of time worked like a literal stream of water. If a time-traveller were to make a minor change to the past, or throw a proverbial pebble in the water, then the stream would flow right over it, and save for a few minor changes in the change's immediate vicinity, the stream's ultimate destiny would be unchanged. Time would find some way of can celling out the time-traveller's change. Only a major change, a proverbial boulder, would actually be capable of changing the river's course. This was a neat theory, seeing as it eliminated the possibility of paradoxes – where a time-traveller made a change in the past which would remove his original reason for going, or ability to go, back in time, like by killing his younger self.

Malcolm felt like a whole world of possibilities had been opened before him. He had to test his own theories. That settled it. He would go back and find Helen.

…

Danny learned that the two keepers were named Amy McCoy and Vincent Scott. They'd trekked all this way through the park, through a Camarasaur-sized hole in the fence, and to the edge of the city. They decided to take a breather here, and then head on to help stop the creatures getting into the city.

…

The prefix 'Head-Keeper' was a little redundant now. He was just Gary Campbell. He felt a little isolated. Amy seemed somehow annoyed with him. Although, she'd just experienced incredible trauma, and he was probably just misconstruing those feelings. Still, he decided to ask Scott about it. This wasn't something he was going to enjoy – the pair had never seen eye-to-eye.

With Amy and Quinn elsewhere, he approached Scott at a space between trees. Scott was sitting on a large, black boulder, his elbows resting between his widely parted legs. Campbell sat down on a rock opposite him.

"Scott," he began. "How are you feeling?"

Scott turned around on his rock to face him. "Not great, Gary."

"Yeah, I can't blame you. You think we were sabotaged?"

Scott left a pause. "That… wouldn't make sense. Who would be sabotaging us?" Scott was acting rather awkwardly.

"I don't know, but it does seem likely."

"I… did you come over here to say something?" That was a rather ungainly change of subject.

"Yeah… Amy, she seems kinda distant to me. Did anything happen?"

"Well, she underwent terrible trauma, Gary!"

"I mean, personally, to me."

"We did bump into Howard Rossiter on our way here. Not for very long, but he did have time to tell us that he had apparently turned you… what was it… 'around to his way of thinking'."

"Wh… Wh,… I – that was Rossiter. I mean, did you listen to him?" Gary tried to smile.

"Yeah…" Scott smiled weakly back.

"So…" Campbell didn't quite know how to finish.

"What happens next?" Scott asked.

"What do you mean?"

"After the clean-up. Then what? About the technology, the creatures? The uh… the cloning, I mean."

"Well, for a start," Campbell smiled, "they didn't clone them."

"Oh?" Scott looked overly surprised. "Then how did they get them?"

"Uh, well… I'm not sure if I even believe this myself, but… Apparently it's got something to do with… wormholes… in time."

"Oh really?" That expression was too fake. Scott was hiding something. None of the keepers were told about the wormholes until Rossiter had told Campbell.

"You don't seem that surprised?"

"Well, yeah, of course I am. It's just… I'm not really able to take it in." Clearly, exhaustion was affecting Scott's ability to lie.

And exhaustion was affecting Campbell's ability to tolerate it. "Why are you lying?"

"I'm not," Scott said. "But, I was gonna ask you about what you think we should do with the park after it gets shut down."

Campbell decided to calm down. He was jumping to irrational conclusions here. "It should be preserved. No question of that. Too much work has been put into the project for it to be abandoned. Land of Time has been a disaster, obviously. But maybe in a more isolated location…"

"You're kidding me! The park has to be closed down. The whole fundament on which the park was based, the idea, is inhumane."

"What, cloning back extinct dinosaurs?"

"I thought you said that they got them through time-travel?"

"Yeah, but you didn't know that until a minute ago. Supposedly." Campbell leaned back and crossed his arms.

"Gary, are you trying to accuse me of something?"

"No, not yet. Anyway, go on. Your idea."

Scott continued, his train of thought disrupted a little. "Well, these creatures were taken from a different time-zone completely and placed in an environment in which they have no idea of how to survive."

"But, if we were to believe they were cloned, then they were born in the present, raised to know what to do in the present, and then put in habitats that would best suit their own instincts."

"Can we stop talking about what supposedly happened? Ignore the cloning, concentrate on what actually happened, the time-travel."

"But how could you have come up with a theory based on something you didn't even know existed until two minutes ago?"

"I'm re-assessing my old theories. They fit even better in this reality."

"OK, keep going. Convince me."

"See, the creatures were plucked right out of their natural habitat, the one they'd grown up in, the one they knew as home. Then, they were put right into a completely new habitat. Campbell, you yourself know how many creatures died from the trauma that such a change of scenery caused. That's not to mention the diseases they weren't used to. We couldn't vaccinate against all of them. And then there's DX."

"DX?" Campbell decided to lay a trap. He, as Head-Keeper, knew that they hadn't cured DX, but supposedly, none of the other keepers did. "But that was cured by BioSyn."

Scott's eyebrows rose. "Yeah, well, it wasn't. Rossiter lied."

"How would you know that?"

"Because I was in the facility. Where they've been working on a cure for months. They never found one."

"You were in the facility?" Campbell asked. "The one in downtown Miami?"

"Yeah, why?" Scott looked away, and seemed to realise that he'd cornered himself.

"The facility that also contains all of the wormholes. Which you couldn't possibly have missed." Checkmate.

Scott's eyebrows rose again. "What? Really? I didn't know…"

"Yes, you did. For some reason, you knew about the wormholes, and just decided to keep it from us." Campbell stood up and walked away. Why would Scott be lying? Sure, Rossiter had connected him to the non-existent 'emergency protocol', but that was just him trying to put the blame off himself. There was that one possibility that had remained in Campbell's head ever since then. That Scott had had a hand in the power-cut. Now, it made sense. Scott found out that the creatures were inhumanely taken through anomalies, and that DX hadn't been cured. So, he decided that the park was an abomination, and shut down the fences.

Then Campbell remembered something else.

Head-Keeper Campbell surveyed his domain. It was the week before the opening-day. All of the final pieces were being prepared for the big day. Mainly commercial things: stocking the kiosks and the restaurant; finishing off the map artwork; things like that. Those weren't really his concern. There was just one final big job that needed doing. It was something that they'd put off before, but was just a simple matter. Campbell decided to check up on its progress.

He strolled leisurely through the finished enclosures. The park was something of which he was immensely proud. He'd had a major hand in its creation. Four years earlier, just a year into the project's construction, he had been hired as Head-Keeper. The day he was shown the prehistoric creatures had been one of the stand-out moments of his forty-year-long life. He'd moved house across the country from his home in Illinois to work here. He didn't know what he'd do if anything happened to it.

He arrived at the management complex. Here was the brains behind the project. The one thing he disliked about the park was its management. Howard Rossiter, CEO of BioSyn, didn't know how to deal with the creatures. Inspired though he was, he was not the man to front a project like this. Then there was his secretive co-creator, Helen Cutter. Campbell was the only keeper who knew about her. Campbell rarely met her, and didn't warm to her.

The one remaining job was the set-up of a secondary power-supply. Should the first one go, the second one would kick in to maintain the enclosure fencing, and the phones. This was originally Cutter's job, but she passed it down to one of the higher-ranking keepers later on.

Campbell decided to check in on him. He was working at one of the computers in a small, four-desk office, when Campbell arrived. The other three desks were left vacant.

"Keeper Scott, everything going alright?" Campbell asked cheerily.

"Oh, sure it's going great. Should be up and running long before opening day."

"That's great. Thanks Vincent." Campbell left him to it, and carried on his walk.

Campbell never got a chance to check back with the progress of the work.

Campbell turned around to face Scott. "You. You never got the secondary power-supply up, did you?"

Scott stood off his rock. He looked a little sheepish. "No, I never got the chance."

"Why not?"

"Because… because Rossiter…"

"No, I'm not buying it anymore." Campbell walked up to Scott. "You caused it. It was you. It was all you!"

"What? No, I… just hold on a second, Gary…"

"You killed all of them! You destroyed everything!" Anger exploded.

He took a massive swing at Scott. The punch struck across his face, and knocked him backwards.

There was a cut on his face. Scott wiped his cheek, checking for blood. He looked up at Campbell, and charged back at him, head lowered.

Scott's head buried in Campbell's stomach, and pushed him back against a tree-trunk. It hurt like hell. Campbell grabbed Scott's head with one hand and punched his face with the other. The head was loosened, and Scott walked backwards a bit.

Campbell grunted and spat. "You think you can just take everything away 'cause of your damn eco-"

Scott punched Campbell in the nose. It cracked.

Campbell returned the favour. "This was my life!" Campbell raised his arm again.

"Break it up!" Quinn grabbed Campbell's arm and twisted it behind his back. "Now is not the time…"

Scott just turned and walked away.

"Now you two calm down…" Quinn let go and Campbell leaned up against a tree-trunk. He turned and saw McCoy. Her hand was over her mouth in an expression of shock.

"Come on," Danny told them. "Time to go." He led the way through the trees.

XXXX

Richard Levine rushed through the streets of Miami. The creatures would be here any second. At this exact moment, that wasn't his concern. He needed to remember.

Down 31st… second corner…

There it was. The little coffee shop where he'd first met with Colonel Hopper. Now it was more important than ever.

He walked through the door and up to the counter. A blonde-haired woman dressed in the coffee-shop uniform, called Denise, stood behind. "Can I take your order?" she asked.

"Hi," said Levine, "Can I have a double espresso with Pandora?"

Denise smiled, but there was concern in that expression too.

She disappeared into the store room for a few seconds. She emerged carrying a small object wrapped in tissue. She put it under the counter for a second while she dispensed the coffee. Once it was finished, she placed it on the counter and put the tissue-wrapped object alongside it. Levine paid her, put the object in his pocket, thanked her, and left.

After walking a small distance down the street, he stopped, checked around himself that no one was watching, and took out the object. Still drinking the espresso to maintain the cover, he discarded the tissues to reveal the object.

It was a small, black flip-phone.

Hopper's number was highly restricted. Only two phones could access it. One, he'd taken with him to the park. That had been destroyed by Rossiter's men. This was the back-up.

He dialled Hopper's number, and waited.

"Agent Levine, why are you breaking radio silence?" Hopper's voice seemed somewhat agitated.

"I've just received word that Helen Cutter, Rossiter's accomplice, plans to destroy the park by bombing it."

"What? Who told you this?"

"Helen herself, via Ian Malcolm, via Danny Quinn."

"Can you vouch for this man's credibility? This Quinn?"

"The ARC team seem to trust him, so I would too."

"Right… I'll tell Delta. Thank you, Agent Levine."

"Proud to have been of service, sir."

Hopper hung up. Now it was a matter of waiting.

…

Ian Malcolm had no intention of waiting any longer.

He re-donned his black leather jacket, placed his sunglasses back in his shirt pocket, and turned to face the empty space where the portal was about to materialize.

"Nearly ready Skinner?" he asked the scientist busily typing at the console.

"Nearly… just a few more… got it!" One final keyboard tap, and the anomaly burst forth. It was the late Cretaceous anomaly that Helen had escaped through earlier. It had taken them half an hour, but they'd done it.

"How exact is it?" Malcolm asked. He didn't want to end up five million years ahead of or behind her.

"To within an hour. It's the best that we can do."

"It's good enough," Malcolm reassured him. He'd taken their little pink pills, which wiped out much of the contagious bacteria that might affect the past. Now he had to find Helen, before she bombed the park.

He lifted the Heckler and Koch G-36c assault rifle that he'd borrowed from Sergeant Rogers. He'd also borrowed a Sig Sauer P226 from Hawkins, which now rested in his back pocket. He needed to get in and out quickly.

He then lifted a small gadget. It was pulsing with sound, and a compass-like needle was pointing unfailingly at the anomaly. It was one of the BioSyn anomaly detectors. He tucked it into his pocket.

Hawkins, Rogers, Jenson and Skinner were all gathered behind him, ready to send him off.

Skinner passed Malcolm a walkie-talkie. "The reception won't be great," he told him, "and it'll get worse the further you go from the anomaly."

"You need any back-up, just call and we'll follow," said Jenson.

"Yeah, something tells me she won't want to reason with me if I take soldiers. I need to go alone, or else it'll all be pointless," Malcolm replied. He put on a backpack full of supplies, and placed a sunhat on his head. He felt like Alan Grant.

"Am I ready to go?" Malcolm asked.

"Yeah," Skinner told him. "Good luck."

"Godspeed," Hawkins said.

"Ah… thanks…" Malcolm readied his backpack, and plunged into the past.

------------------------------------------------

Chapter Fifty
Pedal to the Metal

Previously…
- The walkie coughed into life again.
"Connor! Connor! Come in, dammit!" It was Danny. "Connor, tell me you're out of the park! Please!"
"We're about halfway to the lodge, why?"
"Damn… you need to run. Get to the lodge. Get to the gate. Any way you can, get the hell out of there, now!"
"What… why?"
"Helen's about to bomb the place. We told her the future predators are breeding, and, well, she took it badly. You need to move." -

Yield not to evils, but attack all the more boldly. – Virgil
Connor put the walkie away, then turned to Grant and Abby. "OK, in case you two didn't hear that…"
"Run like hell, or get blown to pieces," Abby simplified.
"Yeah, that," Connor confirmed.
They ran. Abby was in the lead, Connor next, and Doctor Grant behind them.
The sky was darkening, and clouding over. They ran into the forest section of the park, and tree branches covered overhead. Around the next bend, Gallimimus were idly browsing the roadside branches. As Abby ducked underneath a tail, its owner honked in distress. Soon, the others were doing the same. As Connor followed Abby's path, the ruckus got worse, and they started running alongside the humans.
Connor heard Grant fall.
Connor turned back.
Grant had been knocked over by one of the ornithomimids, and was being thumped by the feet of others, now stampeding past.
Connor ran back to help him up. As he was doing so, he caught a glimpse of something on the horizon. He was looking back, beyond the tree-line. The black silhouettes looked like faraway jet-planes.
Time was running out.
Connor and Grant started running again. They ran past the destroyed fences of Psittacosaurs, Dilophosaurs and Procompsognathus.
Abby was waiting at the end of the trail for Connor and Grant to catch up.
Together, they ran out onto the courtyard. There were no helicopters here, as far as they could see.
Then they saw it.
The tyrannosaur looked up from its latest meal, a freshly-killed Gallimimus, and noticed the three humans.
Grant stood completely still. "Don't… move… a…"
"What, are you kidding?" Connor asked. He and Abby backed away, but Grant stood still.
The tyrannosaur fixed on him.
It sniffed at him.
It could definitely see him. And smell him.
Connor rushed forward and, just as the tyrannosaur rose up to make a lunge, he rugby-tackled Grant out of the way.
The gargantuan jaws closed on the space they'd just been occupying.
"I don't understand…" Grant said, still lying in the mud.
"MOVE IT!" Abby yelled from the trees.
Connor and Grant pushed off the ground and tried to circle around the Rex. It kept swiping its tail and gnashing its teeth as they did. But it couldn't move too fast around itself, or else it risked toppling over, and failing to get up, thanks to its puny arms.
Connor led the way into a thick mesh of briars, in the middle of the treeline. He swallowed his reluctance, and dived into the thorns.
In spite of the spines scratching his face, he carried on deeper, pushing the branches away. Grant was following close behind.
They could hear the heavy footfalls of the theropod out on the courtyard.
The footfalls ceased for a second.
Then, the tyrannosaur's huge skull ploughed into the thicket.
Connor fell to the side, and crouched up against a tree-trunk.
The skull went right past him. It was right at his level.
The tyrannosaur was crouching down to get at them.
Grant was nowhere to be seen.
As it flew past, the tyrannosaur's nose scattered thorns and briar stems at Connor's face. He closed his eyes, and turned away.
The explosion of noise calmed for a second. Connor turned back to the predator.
It was looking right at him. The eyeball on one side bore down at him.
It swung its head in his direction.
He closed his eyes again.
It smacked right into the tree bark.
Connor looked back. It couldn't get at him. No matter how hard it tried to orient its head and body around the trunk, it couldn't get past.
A lucky escape.
The Rex raised its head and roared with frustration, scattering yet more barbs at Connor.
Finally, the super-predator withdrew, its own skin prickled with scratches and thorns.
This revealed Grant's hiding place. He too was sat behind a tree-trunk, on the other side of the Rex.
Connor breathed a sigh of relief.
He got up, and, pulling the branches out of his shirt, he tried to force his way out the other side.
…
The race was still on.
As soon as Grant emerged from the thicket, they ran again. They were so close.
So were the planes. They could now hear the thundering engines on their way.
They ran up the pathway back to the main gate. It felt like ages since Connor had last been here. It was a complete mess now. The gate was gone, and the bars that once formed it were scattered along the path and the road beyond. The security box was a pile of wood and glass.
A thunderous roar behind them.
Heavy footfalls, getting closer.
"T-Rex!" Connor gasped.
The three of them hopped through the wreckage, and onto the main-road. It was quiet and empty.
The tyrannosaur followed.
It lunged at Abby.
She dodged out of the way just in time.
The tyrannosaur gazed at its surroundings. It gave another huge roar, and then walked down the road, away from the park.
They'd led it out.
And it was heading towards the city.
They had to stop it.
…
They followed the Rex at a safe distance. It was walking at a slow, regular pace, still walking to the city.
The group walked past a small by-road. Connor looked down it, and noticed something.
An idea arrived fully-formed in his head.
"You two keep following it," he told Grant and Abby, "I have an idea."
"What are you going to do?" Abby asked.
Connor grinned. "Just you wait and see. You can't miss it." He sprinted down the by-road.
…
Ten minutes later, Abby and Grant were still following the Rex. As far as they could see, the bombing hadn't happened. Not yet, anyway. Maybe someone had stopped Helen, or at least delayed her.
Connor hadn't shown up yet. Abby was still wondering what he'd come up with.
Abby heard the sound of a small engine approaching them. It was from a car, and it was behind them.
Just as she turned to see what it was, Connor sped past on a tiny car. It looked like a kit-car. He was wearing driving-goggles. He looked happy.
…
Caterham R500, with white paint and a double red stripe. Left unoccupied at a garage, and drastic times call for drastic measures.
Connor skidded to a halt just behind the tyrannosaur. He engaged neutral and revved the engine. "COME ON, YER BIG CHICKEN!"
The tyrannosaur came to a stop and turned to Connor. It seemed to recognise him. Anger flared in its eyes.
'ROOOAAAAAAAARGHHHHH! ! ! ! ! ! ! !'
The Tyrannosaurus made for the tiny car.
Connor snapped into first.
It lunged.
Connor accelerated.
He could feel its breath as the dinosaur closed its jaws right behind him. He could smell it too. He wished he'd gone just a bit faster.
No matter, Connor sped through the rex's Baba Yaga chicken legs and made for another small by-road. Footfalls reassured him that his plan had worked. Then he realised that he had no idea what to do next.
…
Connor slowed to a stop on an empty airfield. The unused hangars and store-sheds were somewhat dilapidated. Long runways stretched into the distance. The whole airfield was lined by chain-link fences, which were too distant to make out in some places.
The rex was nowhere to be seen.
Connor drove into one of the hangars to take stock of the situation. It was almost empty, save for some huge crates.
He parked the car, took off the goggles and got out. His breath was mixed with laughter.
'Hiss.'
Connor's hairs stood on end. It was a raptor.
At that moment, two dromaeosaurs emerged from the shadow of a crate.
They looked in his direction, and hissed again.
Connor hastily returned to the car, and started the engine.
The two predators arched their backs, drew their fore-claws, and hiss-growled.
Connor slammed the throttle and reversed out of the hangar.
Right-hand-down, he let the raptors charge right past him.
He drove forward, past them, onto the runway.
He hammered down, changing up to fifth, never braking. They were close.
He had to turn back eventually. He'd run out of runway.
Just as they were right on his tail, he turned left. Hard.
The tyres skidded.
The back kicked out.
Smoke rose.
He slammed down again.
The raptors were left in his dust.
Connor aimed for the furthest hangar.
70 mph.
75.
80.
85.
He turned around the side of the hangar, then around the back.
A tri of oil-cans, in line. The raptors were back in his wake. Connor took drastic driving action.
He weaved the car around the first oil-can, through the gap, then around the second. Then he wheeled through and around the third. He just missed the turning, and knocked the oil-can over. Connor looked in the wing mirror. The raptors were bowled over by the rolling oil-can.
Connor decided that, were he to re-tell this story, he'd say he did that on purpose.
Connor turned around the next corner of the hangar. The raptors were nowhere to be seen.
Connor eased her out onto the middle of the airfield. He could relax a little now.
Another explosion of noise.
The tyrannosaur crashed right through the side of the nearest hangar. As it emerged from the dust cloud, it fixed its gaze on Connor.
He took off. The Rex followed.
Connor drifted fantastically (understeered horribly) around the hangar.
He checked in his wing mirrors. The Rex was lagging behind the hangar, hidden from view.
The raptors re-appeared in the rear-view, right behind him.
The T-Rex broke through the iron part of the hangar. Damn, Connor thought, forgot she could do that…
The tyrannosaur quickly caught up. The raptors noticed her, and tried to dodge.
Too late. She swung her great head and sent each one flying.
Connor consciously pushed harder on the throttle.
Another huge 'ROOOOOAAAAAAAARGHH !'
Over the sound of the engine, Connor heard something new.
Helicopters.
He looked into the sky above to see three helicopters with the US flag and the symbol 'Γ' painted on the side. They descended towards the Rex. A man with a rifle leaned out the side of each of them. All three riflemen fired at the Rex. Three rounds of bullets pierced the Rex's flank. The dinosaur gave another, softer 'Raggh', and gave up the chase. It changed direction, and ran to the chain-link fence. It crashed through, and continued on through the forest, out of sight.
Connor slowed the car, and turned to free-wheel to the helicopters.
The copters landed, and two men stepped out of one. As Connor got out of the car, they outstretched their hands.
"Connor Temple?" one of them asked. He was taller than Connor, and had short, dark hair. He was wearing sunglasses.
"Yeah," Connor replied, shaking the hand. "Who are you?"
"Staff Sergeant Dillon," the man replied. "This," he motioned to his accomplice, who shook Connor's hand, "is Sergeant Wooding." Wooding was slightly shorter, and his lighter hair grew longer than Dillon's. "We're part of the rescue op."
"Oh right! Levine's guys, yeah?"
"Yes. Specifically, we're taking care of the rogue creatures," Dillon told him. "We could really do with your help on that front. First of all, do you by any chance know how many tyrannosaurs there were in Everglades Land of Time?"
"More than one," Connor told him.
XXXX
The female tyrannosaur walked past its first house. It looked down the street. There was plenty of potential prey here.
They'd reached the suburbs.

---------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Fifty-One
The Key to Time
You know, by the time you become the leader of a country, someone else makes
all the decisions. … You may find you can get away with virtual presidents,
virtual prime ministers, virtual everything. – Bill Clinton
Malcolm stepped onto the dark ash.
The sun beat down on him. The midday heat was a big change from evening Miami. The sky was almost entirely clear, save for a few clouds here and there. Malcolm checked that he still had everything.
Rifle, check.
Pistol, check.
Detector, check.
Walkie-talkie, check.
Backpack, check.
Sunhat, check.
He was good to go. He looked around him, upon the magnificent, unspoilt landscape. The ground he was standing on was dark ash. The land sloped downwards, towards thick vegetation, and eventually a wide lake, with a small, foliage-covered island at the centre. To his left and his right, black rock rose out of the ground and into high, stony outcrops. To his left, it was bare, but on the right, some trees and short shrubs grew along the foothills. Behind the anomaly, a smouldering, snow-capped volcano rose up skywards.
The place, Montana. The time, around 65.35 million years ago. As close to the KT boundary as the BioSyn teams ever went.
"HELEN!" Malcolm called.
No answer.
As far as Malcolm could see, there was no easy way out of this anomaly site. The outcrops continued all around the lake side. The flat land around the lake was about ten feet wide, and it was taken up by trees. The most traversable way out was the lake itself, and for that, Helen would have needed a boat. Malcolm decided to check anyway.
He descended towards the lake, through the short trees and vegetation. He emerged through a thicket of ferns, and stepped onto the lake-side gravel. He looked up and down the coast. Around a hundred feet to his right, he saw a canoe resting on the shore.
He made his way to the boat, and checked its condition. From what he could see, it was in good working order, able to float on the shallow water's surface. It was only big enough for one person, and there was just a single paddle resting inside.
Malcolm looked across the lake. Although the island blocked his view, he couldn't make out any suitable landing points. The rocky outcrops were actually the edges of substantial mountain ranges, which stretched around the lake. In fact, this seemed like rather a bad place for a portal into the past. Maybe it made for a sheltered location to make camp.
Malcolm did however see a gap in the peaks, on the other side of the island. That was probably where Helen had gone. Time was of the essence. She had had a half-hour head-start on him. If he was going to catch up, he needed to move as fast as possible, and the canoe would be the fastest way to the other side of the lake. He'd have to brave the dangers.
Malcolm pushed the canoe out into the water, and, shoes wet, jumped inside. He repositioned himself, rested the rifle in front of him, and grabbed the paddle. Finally comfortable, he pushed the paddle through the water and set off.
The lake was peaceful. One would usually expect such a large watering-hole to be frequented by many large herbivores. Perhaps, Malcolm thought, the regular human excursions through the anomaly had caused the creatures to avoid the area, in fear of being captured.
Malcolm slowed as he approached the central island. It was covered in trees and boulders, and didn't seem to be home to any large animals.
He continued on towards the other side. As he continued, he saw that several small streams cascaded down the mountain-sides to fill the lake. As the streams hit the lake, they sent vibrations across the surface.
Through the boat, Malcolm felt a slightly stronger vibration, out of sync with the rest.
Malcolm shifted around, and checked for where it was coming from.
Probably just a primitive seagull…
He continued paddling. He was halfway from the island to the shoreline now, and nearly on dry land.
Another strong vibration.
Malcolm could better feel where it was coming from this time. He turned around, and scanned the lake behind him. With the sunlight reflected on the water, he couldn't see underwater.
A splash on the right.
Malcolm looked around to see a small, silver-scaled fish leap into the boat. It started flapping around to try and push itself back into the water.
Malcolm laughed nervously.
A huge pair of crocodile jaws launched out of the water and bit down the canoe. The sharp teeth missed Malcolm's legs by mere inches. The rifle was trapped under the crocodile's upper jaw.
It was just like a massive crocodile. Its jaws were easily longer than Malcolm was tall, and most of the body presumably lay underneath the water, like an iceberg. The crocodile shook the boat from side to side, and then repositioned its bite to bring it closer the Malcolm.
Malcolm pulled the pistol out of his back-pocket, pointed at the crocodile and fired on its nearest eye.
The crocodile wailed and let go of the boat. It withdrew, completely disappearing into the murky depths.
Malcolm grabbed the oar again and paddled as hard as he could. The shore wasn't too far away.
The crocodile lunged out of the water again, this time actually landing on the canoe just below Malcolm's feet.
The boat flicked upwards, and Malcolm, pistol in hand, was launched out, over the croc's head, into the water.
Malcolm plunged into the cold water. The sunhat came off and sank towards oblivion. He'd lost the rifle. He ditched the bag, and quickly rose to the surface, gasped in the air, and started swimming for the shoreline, pistol still in his grasp. Thank God for rehab… He couldn't see the crocodile.
He felt tiny mouths biting at his heels. Cretaceous piranhas were on his scent.
He eventually reached the shallows, and pushed himself onto his feet. He waded over the gravel. The biters fell off and returned to the deep.
Malcolm collapsed on the sand on the other side of the lake. He retrieved his breath.
He heard it cutting through the lake-surface.
It was still after him.
Malcolm pushed off the sand, and stumbled upwards. He sensed it launch its jaws towards him. He had seconds. He leaped out of its way. Malcolm hit against a tree-trunk. He used it pull up again. He retreated into the undergrowth.
Malcolm looked back. The massive croc was lying on the shoreline, its whole belly out of the water. It swiped its jaws in his direction, but it couldn't get past the trees.
It just rested its jaw on the sand, admitting defeat.
…
Malcolm continued through the trees. As far as he could remember, the gap in the mountains was somewhere through here…
The ground-level rose considerably as he walked. He checked that everything was still working. The detector was still pulsing, and pointing unflinchingly behind him, back at the facility anomaly. Malcolm checked the bullets in the pistol. They were dry, so that meant the powder was dry, and the weapon should still work. The walkie was making an unhealthy coughing sound. Malcolm decided to try it.
"Come in, facility. Doctor Ian Malcolm testing walkie-talkie, over."
Malcolm listened carefully, while stepping over a tree-stump.
More of the unhealthy sounds. No discernible words in the mess.
"Repeat yourself, please."
More choking noise.
Damn… "Walkie-talkie is no longer functioning," he told them, just in case they could hear him on their end.
Malcolm put the walkie away, and continued the ascent through the trees. He pushed a lump of thorns out of his way, and emerged into the sun. He'd reached the top of the rise, and looked down on a deep valley.
The valley floor was green with thick vegetation, and there were darker greens of patches of trees. A wide river ran through the valley. The basin stretched out to a ridge of mountains far on the horizon. Roaming through the vegetation were large herds of dinosaurs. Some looked like Triceratops; others were smaller and two-footed.
After observing this amazing sight, Malcolm returned to the very serious issue at hand.
How the hell am I going to find Helen now…
The detector leaped to his rescue.
A renewed set of pulses in his pocket grabbed his attention. He pulled the gadget out, and had a look. The arrow, which had been unmoving before, was now swinging between two distinct points. One was just behind him. The other was straight ahead, in the middle of the valley.
Malcolm put the detector away, and started running down the hill-side into the valley. He couldn't sprint – his leg still wasn't great after Nublar and Sorna.
"HELEN!"
She was down there somewhere. This was their last chance to stop the bombing, and save the people left in the park. Levine sure wasn't going to help.
"HELEN! IT'S IAN!"
Why was Helen so attached to him? Were they going to meet in this future that she'd apparently visited?
Malcolm reached the valley floor. Still with plenty of momentum, he charged, somewhat painedly, through the herd of Triceratops. Honks of alarm sounded throughout the herd, and panic spread through them. He just about missed several tail-swipes and horn-swings.
One huge individual, probably the equivalent of an alpha-male, came charging up to Malcolm, the tiny mammal in their territory. The horned dinosaur towered above Malcolm, twice the size of a bull-elephant, and with more impending weaponry.
Malcolm ducked underneath the bull's head and through his legs. The bull repositioned around him, and Malcolm had to dive to avoid another horn-swipe. As he went down, Malcolm smacked his leg against a rock. A surge of pain swept up his leg. Grunting, he pushed up and started sprinting again.
Malcolm pulled the detector out, and checked that he was still going the right way. The anomaly was close now – the arrow was pointing straight ahead, completely ignoring the far-away facility anomaly.
He ran through another couple of Triceratops, and saw it. The anomaly was hovering on the other side of the river. That had to be where Helen was.
Malcolm ran towards what looked liked a crossing-point. Several large stones rested on the river-bed. Malcolm hopped across these stepping-stones, one at a time, having to stop regularly due to pains in his leg, towards the anomaly. The river wasn't too wide, and soon enough, Malcolm had arrived on the other side. He hopped onto the dry land, and ran through the anomaly.
…
Malcolm arrived in darkness. It took him a minute to re-acclimatize to the lack of heat and light. The only light was cast by the anomaly, and it illuminated the room. He was in some kind of store-room, with all sorts of boxes and crates. There was no one here.
He heard someone talking, on the other side of the only door he could see.
The door opened.
Helen Cutter stepped through.
"Ian!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you," Malcolm answered. "Where are we?"
"A safe place," she said, closing the door behind herself. "Somewhere Rossiter doesn't know about."
"You do realise that he's probably still in that park, and he's going to get blown up in that operation you're planning? He was your link to BioSyn. You need him."
"Oh, I don't need Rossiter. He was just the front. Like a virtual leader for the park. I was making the decisions. And don't worry, I'm going to try my best to get Rossiter out before it happens. He's still important to me."
"So, let me get this straight: you want to bomb this park just because of that one kind of future creature? You're that worried that it'll breed and take over?"
"Yes."
Then it doesn't make sense that she cut the power, which would have helped those creatures escape, Malcolm thought. The saboteur can't have been her. But bombing the park was irrelevant now: the creatures were already out of the park, according to Quinn.
"I presume you know why I'm here?" Malcolm asked.
"You want to stop me?"
"Yeah. If what you said is true, then you're going to kill everyone in that park. I can't let you do that."
"Ian, it's a necessary sacrifice. To borrow a phrase from Rossiter, just look at the big picture! Animals die, species die. Why should humans be any different?"
"I'm sorry, this is just… I mean, you want to compare yourself to the destructive forces of nature, what happens by accident, chance, chaos? This isn't chaos, this is you trying to bend things to your will. And, what the hell is your will?"
"Ian, I've seen it all happen. I've seen catastrophes; I've seen mass-extinctions, and believe me, a lot of them didn't happen how people think they did. I've got more perspective than anyone else in the world. I have the key to time. This… what happens here, will be a blip on the radar of geological time if what I'm doing works. But if it doesn't, and those things get out and breed and take over, the biological collapse will be unprecedented. The world isn't ready for that kind of super-predator."
"I'm beginning to wonder which super-predator you're trying to exterminate here; those future creatures, or humanity."
Helen smiled.
"Helen, why do you trust me so much?" Malcolm asked.
Helen breathed in slowly. "Because you were one of the only ones to speak out against Johnson's experiments. You stood by me. You, like me, didn't want to cause irreversible extinctions. There are some things worth keeping."
"Like what?" Malcolm asked.
Malcolm felt a blow to the back of his head. Then, black.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Fifty-Two
Unexpected Allies
...
"If history repeats itself, and the unexpected always happens, how incapable must Man be of learning from experience." ~ George Bernard Shaw
...
The last thing Stone remembered was leaping from a burning Hercules airplane, some four-thousand feet in the air. He remembered free falling with Sergeant Major Jackson.
The wind had blown them toward the park. He could faintly remember the large circle with buildings dotted around the place.
In a few short seconds Jackson had pulled his parachute cord. A white sheet unfurled rapidly from a large backpack.
The Sergeant Major floated down, heading toward a square building, a few hundred metres from a lake.
Stone had hesitated in pulling his 'chute, until finally he pulled the cord at four hundred feet. The parachute shot out from his back pack, his whole body juddered at the force.
Stone lost control of the 'chute as soon as he dropped to three-hundred feet. He could see the aviary much closer now.
Abruptly he was caught on a twisted metal beam from the dome.
He started to panic. His hands fumbled for the metal clip across his chest. He struggled to unclip it. Once he finally did, he fell at least fifty feet, impacting into the mud.
…
Jackson landed on the roof of the management HQ. He quickly detached the 'chute from his back and adjusted his Pro-Tec helmet. He jogged over to the edge of the roof. He saw Stone face first in the mud, just a few feet from the aviary.
The bombers were getting closer, he could hear them.
"Stone!" Jackson called out. He leaned over the safety railing at the edge of the roof. He spoke into his comm-link, which was linked only to the private. "Stone!" No answer.
A dog like creature, the size of a rhino, approached the body of the private. The creature had the whiskers of a rat, a dog-like muzzle and short cat-like canines. It was basically the bastard love child of all three species. It was grey-black with white stripes running across its back and all over its hind legs and tail.
"Hyaenodon." Jackson said to himself.
He knew this creature from intelligence retrieved by Levine, who had then wired it to the intelligence team at USAF Everglades, during his stay at the park.
The creature lowered its head and sniffed the ground.
It moved closer and closer to the private.
Move, Stone. Move! Jackson thought.
He looked through the scope of his marksman rifle. Jackson aimed at the Hyaenodon's torso.
The Hyaenodon sniffed the body. But before it could snap its jaws onto Stone, the crack of a gunshot forced the creature to snap its head upward. Blood spurted from its left thigh. The creature howled in pain. It limped off into the forest that masked the perimeter fence.
…
Jackson ran down the staircase of the management HQ, his heart pounding in desperation to get to his companion on time before anything else could get him.
Jackson pushed open the door to the smoking area. Dark grey clouds made the evening seem a lot darker.
He raised his rifle. Jackson scanned his surroundings, left and right, ahead, behind and above him as he approached the private.
Five feet away from the soldier, he knelt on his right knee. It sunk an inch or two into the thick mud.
"Stone!" Jackson whispered.
There was a groan coming from the body.
"Stone!" Jackson repeated. He perked up as he saw Stone's left arm come out of the sludge of mud.
Jackson rushed to the private's side to pick him up. "Come on private."
"What the hell happened, sir?" Stone was brought to his feet. The soldier's left side of his face was covered in mud.
"It's a long story. We've got to find a secure area underground." Jackson moved briskly back to the management HQ.
"Where will we find that?" Stone followed after him.
"The staircase ends at a control room, which is a level beneath the boiler room." Jackson held the door open for Stone, "Stone, take point."
Stone nodded. He raised his M1911 pistol and aimed it down the staircase.
…
Due to the power outage, the door to the control room was unlocked. Jackson was the first to switch on the torch attached to the left side of his helmet. The circle of the silver-white light exposed a large vent grating mounted on the right hand wall.
There was a booming sound above them. In a few seconds dust fell from the concrete ceiling. Helen Cutter's bombers were already at work destroying the park.
Jackson closed the door behind them, and said, "We'll stay here for a while, till the bombing stops." Jackson sat down on a swivel chair. Stone sat himself down on a chair opposite Jackson.
"Sir… What exactly happened back there?" Stone asked.
Jackson rubbed his forehead.
"The bombers were armed with sidewinder missiles for their own defence. They fired two into the starboard wing of the Hercules. Then we were told to evacuate. The pilot and co-pilot stayed on board trying to get it to land…" He tailed off.
Jackson and Stone looked up. Both men heard the management HQ crumble above them. The concrete dust came down a lot thicker now.
"…So any way. That's how we got here."
…
Stone sighed, he winced as he got up from the chair. He never realised the full extent of the damage he'd taken. His face felt swollen, his ribs hurt and he had a splitting headache.
"Well, what's the worst that could have happened?" the private smiled weakly.
"You could have gotten eaten by a Hyaenodon." Jackson said, keeping a straight face.
Stone giggled for a while, "You're kidding right?"
Jackson shook his head slowly.
"Oh Jesus." Stone covered his face in his right hand.
…
Jackson sat up from the swivel chair and approached the large vent grating. The light from his head torch showed a long hallway with pipes running vertical along the walls.
"Stone, I've found a way out." Jackson grinned.
…
Both men removed the grating exposing a doorway into a tunnel.
"God, what's that smell?" Stone looked around the doorway.
"Probably damp collected by the concrete." Jackson said, looking up and down. He tapped Stone on the shoulder, "Switch your head lamp on."
The other light flickered on.
The hall continued down for another hundred metres or so.
They reached the end of the hall and were presented with two paths. Their nostrils caught an even more sickening smell coming from the left – that had to be the sewer.
"Look's like we're going right. Double time private!" Jackson said, as he broke into a run.
Stone quickly followed after, but in more of a jog than a run.
XXXX
They'd found the BlackSun camp.
Jackson was hidden behind a collapsed tree branch. The sun that would normally be seen setting upon the Everglades was blocked by thick black smoke rising from the burning park.
He observed the 'guns for hire' through small binoculars. He saw Pahna 2091s (an Iranian overhaul of the American AH-1 Cobra, a versatile infantry support helicopter), which were hidden away in a large hangar. The hangar itself was covered in foliage, to conceal it from aerial surveillance. Just behind the Pahna hangar was a much larger set of hangars, they probably housed the CH-53s that were used in the attack on Miami Beach.
Those crazy bastards… Jackson thought.
"What the hell do they think they're doing?" Stone whispered. He had just returned from inspecting two deceased mercenaries for any ammo, and appropriately disposing of them.
"Look's like they're going to war." Jackson whispered. He looked at Stone, and then looked at the weapon the soldier had taken from the mercenaries. "I see you found a new toy."
"A Russian made automatic shotgun." Stone grinned, "Saiga-12 to be more specific."
"Right." Jackson looked back into his binoculars, "Okay. The pilots are getting in to the 2091s."
Each of the helicopter's propellers started.
One by one they lifted off. They flew low enough to touch the canopy of the trees.
"They're bearing North, North-West!" Jackson said, over the sound of thundering attack helicopters.
"The only thing that's there is the air force base!"
"We have to warn Hopper!"
The duo ducked behind the log. One of the mercenaries was standing close. His back was facing the forest.
The blurring sound of the helicopters dissipated. All that was heard was the banter of the mercenaries and the various fauna of the Everglades.
The mercenary moved away from the log. Jackson and Stone returned to lean over it again. The sergeant major looked through the scope of his rifle and surveyed the camp.
"There's two guards at the far South. They're positioned at a dirt path."
"What do you intend on doing?" Stone looked inquisitively at the sergeant major.
Jackson adjusted the zoom on the scope of his 7.62mm rifle.
"There's something moving in the trees." Jackson whispered. "I can't make it out clearly. Too bad we don't have night vision on us."
…
In a matter of seconds a rhino sized creature lunged out at the guard on the right hand side of the dirt path. Its massive jaws crushed the guard's head.
Before the other guard could react, another creature leapt out at him. The massive jaws slammed down obliterating the right shoulder and head. Six of the guards started firing on the creatures.
…
"Let's move!" Jackson shouted. He shouldered his rifle.
Both men jumped over the log. They sprinted toward the hangar, where it looked clear from any opposition. They hid in an office, from which both men had a good view of the carnage.
"What the hell are those things?" Stone asked over the clatter of gun fire, screaming and primeval roars.
"Hyaenodon." Jackson said quietly, "Contact Hopper, warn him about the attack helicopters."
"Yes, sir."
"And see if he can get us some transport."
…
Four more of the Hyaenodon came out of the jungle. Even though the mercenaries had numbers on their side, they still didn't stand a chance against these powerful beasts.
One mercenary had attempted to flee to a nearby quad-bike. But one of the creatures caught up with him and snatched the helpless man up in its jaws. The animal's thousand pound bite force crushed the mercenary's spine like cardboard, and an aggressive shake severed his body in two.
The Hyaenodon opened its jaws and let the halves of the human fall out of its mouth. Some of his flesh hung from its jaws. The creature eagerly scooped the guts from the corpse. It then dug into the upper torso.
Three mercenaries were surrounded by five of the massive Hyaenodon. The huge creodonts circled their prey, and closed in on them.
The screams of the mercenaries were drowned out by the wet growling of the giant beasts.
XXXX
Five minutes had passed. The area seemed clear.
Jackson was the first one out of the hangar, his rifle at the ready.
Stone appeared behind the sergeant major.
"Sir?" Stone looked behind himself and then all around.
"What is it?"
"Shall I pop a flare?"
"Not yet." Jackson said, he looked to his left where the mercenaries were slaughtered.
"They weren't hunting."
"Those dog-things?"
"If they were hunting the bodies would be gone." Jackson pointed out.
"We're in their territory?"
"Possibly." Beyond the nearest quad-bike, Jackson saw half a dozen piles of excrement. "Definitely."
XXXX
The dark cloud of smoke had dissipated. The setting sun tinted the sky an orange-red. It cast a dark silhouette among the tropical trees. The whole inner park had been obliterated on Cutter's orders.
Stone and Jackson had been headed towards base following the battle in Miami. Stone had been ready to fight on, despite his injuries, but Hopper's orders were to return to the air-base. Shortly before they were attacked by BlackSun, they got a call from Hopper. Apparently Levine had been in contact, and tipped them off about Cutter's plan. Hopper had ordered all available choppers to divert to the park to stop the bombardment, and rescue what harmless creatures they could. Stone and Jackson's chopper had arrived at the park last. By then, helicopters had already airlifted the mammoth herd, and a young Indricothere, to safety. Stone and Jackson were attacked, and bailed.
The two men held up in an office on the right side of the hangars. Every now and then they'd take turns going outside to keep an eye and an ear out for a helicopter.
"Sir," Stone returned to the office, "you don't think that those BlackSun helicopters are really going to try and take the air-base, do you?"
"It's a top secret base," Jackson replied. "How do they know it's there? Why are they going there?" Jackson challenged the younger soldier. "There has been a bit of tension ever since we infiltrated the park a few day ago. They must have known who we were. But to respond so late in the game?"
Stone shrugged. "Maybe Cutter didn't want to blow her own cover too soon."
The private pulled up a chair and sat down.
"Another question: Why did BlackSun attack the park? I'm going to go out on a limb and say… They weren't paid well?"
"But BioSyn supplied them with clones and weapons that are only available to Special Forces."
"Well, somebody must be paying them big time to attack their own country." Stone peeked through the blinds at the window.
"BlackSun is just a name now." Jackson said, he looked at pieces of paper stuck to a corkboard. "Right after the CIA got involved they would have sent a black-ops team out to their presumed HQ in North Carolina to shut down BlackSun with force."
Stone looked back at Jackson. "You mean they… Killed the board of directors and CEO?"
"Probably not, but…" Jackson looked down. "Too many questions. Nobody knows the half of what the hell is going on here." Jackson shook his head.
"So there's stuff that we don't know?"
"Define 'we'."
"Uh…" Stone looked up the looked back to Jackson, "Delta?"
Jackson smiled. "How much do you know about this?"
"All I know is that we're part of a new counter-insurgency team that works with the Navy and Air Force. When I actually started dealing with the creatures…"
"Right. Anybody who isn't a Sergeant Major or higher is only told the basics. SMs and higher will have known everything before the Staff Sergeant and lower."
Stone nodded. "Okay… So… The game has changed then. Everything that you, and the officers knew about BioSyn and the park has changed? Right?"
"Almost." Jackson ended it abruptly. "I'm going to keep an eye and ear out for that helicopter."
He left the office and closed the door behind him.
…
Jackson breathed in the evening air. It was tainted with the scent of faecal matter and exposed flesh.
I've fought in slums that smelled better than this, he mumbled to himself.
The sounds became more noticeable as Jackson started to relax. The Everglades didn't normally sound this busy with animal life. Many different sounds echoed through the swamps and jungles.
It was getting dark now, but Jackson had enough flares.
…
A chopping sound peaked up and then lowered.
Jackson looked up to the dark blue sky. He saw a Black Hawk helicopter, it was low enough for him to make out its outlines.
Jackson popped a flare, and red-pink smoke sparked out of the red stick. He chucked it to the ground.
"Stone!" Jackson called out to the private via their comm-link.
…
The helicopter set down on the dirt. Its own lights illuminated a few feet of the ground. Stone and Jackson were greeted by two helicopter crewman of Force Reconnaissance of the United States Marine Corps.
"US Marines?" Stone looked at Jackson.
"The President wants his men in on the action." Jackson nodded.
The helicopter lifted off the ground and headed back to USAF Everglades.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Fifty-Three
MIAmi
...
Take nothing on its looks; take everything on evidence. There's no better rule. – Charles Dickens
...
Sarah looked into the anomaly. According to Doctor Thorpe, she'd rested enough by now. She was restless. She stood at the end of a short corridor, which led down to the anomaly, glistening and hovering.
"How long's it been?" she asked the scientist.
Professor Skinner, back at the console, checked his watch. "98 minutes," he answered.
Sarah looked back at the portal. Doctor Malcolm had now been gone for over an hour and a half. If he didn't find Helen, then it was likely that no one would stop that bombing operation.
She turned away and marched back to where the spy was being held. This man, Douglas Ketterman, had kidnapped her. She wanted to know why. He was still sat, tied up in the chair, guarded by Briggs. His head was hanging down.
"Who are you working for?" Sarah asked him, leaning against a noticeboard.
Ketterman gave no answer.
Sarah remained completely calm. "I said, who are you working for?"
Still nothing.
Briggs nudged Ketterman's stomach with the butt of his rifle. "This woman asked you a question."
Ketterman cleared his throat, without looking up, and then spoke, finally. "The wizard of Oz."
Briggs nudged Ketterman in the same place again, this time considerably harder. It drew a grunt from Ketterman. Sarah finally got a look at his face for the first time. He was pale, and had considerable bags under his eyes. He looked exhausted.
Ketterman looked Sarah in the eye. "Who do you think I work for?"
"Helen Cutter."
Ketterman kept his gaze. "Who's that?"
"A liar, a murderer, a woman who killed her own husband and was very nearly responsible for genocide. If I were you, I'd be questioning my loyalties right now."
"But why would I be doing that?"
"Well, for one thing, she apparently walked right through here without so much as lifting a finger to get you out of that chair."
Ketterman smiled. "Fine, judge us. Judge all of us." He looked around at the soldier. "The truth is, you people don't have a clue what you're doing."
"What was that?" Briggs asked.
"Nothing, treadhead."
"What did you say?" The young soldier jammed the butt underneath Ketterman's jaw and forced his head up.
"At ease, Briggs," Sarah ordered.
Briggs withdrew, and returned to his standing vigil.
Sarah was still leaning back, calm. "Are you going to speak to me at all?"
Ketterman, his head still raised, declined to answer.
"GUYS!" A shout from closer to the facility door.
"Stay here," Sarah told Briggs. She investigated.
She walked through the corridor towards the voice. "Yes?" she called back.
Hawkins was coming the other way. "Miss Page!" he exclaimed. "The creatures have reached the city."
"Damn…" Sarah muttered. "We have to help stop them."
"Agreed," Hawkins said. Together, they walked back into the facility to tell the others, and organise a plan.
A bang.
They both turned around. It was coming from the door.
Another, louder bang.
Then a third, and a raptor forced its way through the facility's front door. It immediately focused on Sarah and Hawkins.
"Move move move move move…" Hawkins ordered. Sarah retreated away from the creature's reach. Hawkins got his rifle out and started firing, while simultaneously backing away, down the corridor.
Sarah arrived back at Ketterman's interrogation room.
"What's going on out there?" Briggs asked. Then his gaze turned to behind her, as he heard the rifle fire. "Oh…"
Ketterman was turned away from the action. "What the hell?"
Sarah went to the back of the chair, and untied him. He stood off the chair, and discarded the ropes. Sarah grabbed him by the shoulders. "Now, come on!"
Briggs joined Hawkins in defending against the raptor. Sarah and Ketterman retreated towards the anomaly room. They met Thorpe on the way. "What's happening?" she asked.
Before they could respond, Hawkins and Briggs caught up, now joined by a limping Jenson and a sling-wearing Rogers. "The raptor's down, but more creatures just came through the door," Briggs told them. "Sabre-tooth tigers, future predators…"
"We need to evacuate," Sarah concluded. "Doctor," she addressed Thorpe, "is there a back-door somewhere near here?"
"Yes, back here at the labs."
"OK. You go find all of the other scientists, and get them out of here. Don't stop for anything."
Thorpe ran back into the labs. Ketterman followed her.
"Trust him to save himself…" Briggs said, brushing past the others.
Hawkins, Jenson, Rogers and Sarah followed him to the anomaly. Skinner was sat at his desk, oblivious to the chaos elsewhere in the building.
"Professor," Sarah called. Skinner turned around. Sarah continued. "The creatures are in the city. They got into the building."
Skinner gave a grim look of grudging acceptance. He walked over to the console, and typed in a code. The anomaly to the Cretaceous flickered, span around itself and closed.
"What the hell are you doing?" Hawkins shouted. "That was Doctor Malcolm's only way back!"
"I'm sorry, but we can't let creatures get into the wrong prehistoric era," Skinner told him. "It could cause all sorts of damage."
"Fine, open it again and let me through," Briggs said. "I'll get him."
Before they could decide, a raptor leapt into the room, and growled at them. Hawkins and Briggs opened fire. The creature suffered a shot to the eye, and stumbled towards the now non-existent anomaly.
Everyone went around it and drew back towards the labs. They followed Thorpe's previous path, through white-walled labs to which Sarah paid little attention, and out the back door. Hawkins and Briggs slammed the door tight behind them, and Skinner locked it using a ring of keys in his pocket.
The sky was a mixture of colours, as the day drew towards evening, and sunset. The back-door led onto a small patch of grass, surrounded by forest. The scientists must already have left the building.
"Did anyone grab a torch?" Sarah asked.
No one had.
The door shook at the force of a creature slamming into it. No one volunteered to go back in.
Skinner stepped out in front of everyone else. "The highway should be this way," he said, stepping into the undergrowth. With no other guide, the five ARC members followed him.
…
An hour later, and darkness had fallen. The heavy cloud-cover, and the thick canopy, made things worse. Sarah sat on a tree-stump, while the four soldiers stood around, on guard. Rogers and Jenson were unable to use rifles, with their injuries, but still carried pistols. In the last sixty minutes, they'd met up with another six of the scientists, including Thorpe and Harper. All of the scientists had ditched their coats. None of them had brought torches. They'd all seemingly got lost in the darkness, and they feared that some of their number had fallen victim to the escaped creatures. Skinner was trying to get his bearings.
"No… sorry, I can't figure out where we are without the light," he admitted.
"Anyone else know the way?" Sarah asked the scientists.
They returned mumbled expressions of doubt.
"OK…" Rogers said. "I have a compass. If we keep going east for long enough, we'll reach the coast, and can go north from there."
They set off, following Rogers and her compass. The atmosphere was charged with nerves. Everyone expected a super-predator to emerge around the next tree-trunk and make mince-meat out of them all.
Sarah stumbled over a fallen log and fell onto the forest floor. As she tried to get up amongst the leaf-litter, she saw a medium-sized reptile crouching amongst the thick vegetation. It was a two-legged, sharp-toothed dinosaur, and it wore a double eye-crest on the top of its skull.
"Dilophosaurus," identified Skinner. He helped her up, and then stood back. "Give it a wide berth. You don't want it to perceive us as a threat."
"Or a source of food," Thorpe added.
"Well, that's unlikely," Skinner returned.
The dinosaur rose out of the foliage to take a better look at Sarah. Hawkins and Briggs reacted by raising their weapons. The dilophosaur was about the size of the raptor, but less muscular, and quite thin. It soon lost interest and returned to the undergrowth. The group carried on, a little more shaken than beforehand.
As they trekked onwards, Sarah made to duck underneath a tree-branch, when she saw something hiding underneath it. Another Dilophosaur.
The dinosaur hissed at her, opened its jaws, and spat at her.
Sarah turned away just in time to save her eyes, and the muck landed in her hair.
"Ah, my hair!" She started trying to pull the stuff out, backing away, and falling backwards. The gloop started to sting her scalp. Then, it intensified. If felt as if the vomit contained a thousand tiny needles, which were all digging into her skin. The affected area heated up rapidly. Then, the needles seemed to grow tiny jaws, and millions of tiny teeth gnawed into her scalp. All of this from some chemicals in dinosaur vomit…
Sarah focused and cleared the stuff off her skin. The pain abated, and she opened her eyes again.
Hawkins and Briggs approached the dinosaur, and fired off their rifles. The dinosaur, spooked, jumped away from the branch and disappeared again.
"Miss Page, are you OK?" Briggs asked. He pulled her onto her feet again.
Sarah found that, no matter how hard she tried to get it out, the goo was stuck fast to her, like used gum. And it stank horribly, just like human vomit. "What is this?"
"We don't know," Thorpe answered. "We haven't had enough time to study them."
"They're gone now," Jenson said. "Let's keep moving before their big brothers get here."
They continued on without further ado. As the mild stinging sensation continued to eat away at her, Sarah found that she couldn't shake her nerves. It felt as if they were being stalked by the creatures. Raptors, gremlins, and sabre-tooth cats were all waiting to pounce on them now. She knew it. She kept checking around the group to make sure everyone was still there.
On the twenty-third check, she miscounted. She re-counted. The same result – eleven people, instead of twelve. There were still seven scientists, but only three soldiers.
"Where's Jenson?" she asked.
Jenson had been at the back of the group, by himself. No one had seen him go. The convoy halted, and the other soldiers started looking around. Hawkins and Briggs whipped their rifles around, looking for something to aim at. Hawkins fired on the canopy at one point, but he found nothing real.
One of the scientists, Harper, spoke up. "Doctor Thorpe?"
They realised that one of the scientists back at the front of the column was gone now too.
"Thorpe!" called Skinner. "Thorpe!"
"Keep it down," Rogers ordered. "We don't want to attract att-"
Rogers screamed as she was knocked to the ground. Two of the Dilophosaurs were on her back, tearing into her.
While Rogers struggled as much as she could with a slinged arm, Hawkins and Briggs swung at the dinosaurs with their rifles.
More shouts and screams, this time from the scientists. Sarah turned back to see that only three of them remained; Skinner, Harper and a red-haired man in glasses.
Hawkins and Briggs pulled Rogers up, and looked about in panic. "RUN!" Briggs shouted.
The seven survivors ran together away from the scene of carnage.
They came upon a log, with a dinosaur standing proudly on top. The Dilophosaur growled, and bore its tooth-filed mouth.
It spat again, this time on the red-haired scientist. He fell backwards, screaming with pain, into Briggs. Briggs helped him up, and they all ran past it.
As they ran, the red-haired scientist was clutching his face, covering his eyes. It was up to Briggs to keep him directed.
Ten minutes later, they slowed and stopped at a clearing. The scientist fell to the ground, thrashing about with the pain.
"I think we lost them…" Briggs proposed, as he tried to get the scientist up.
"I don't think so…" Skinner disagreed. "I think I've figured out what the spit does."
"What?" Sarah asked.
"I think the creatures use it to mark any animals as potential prey. That one animal spat on Page, then retreated. Not long later, a whole group of them appears out of nowhere. Maybe the spit creates a scent that attracts other Dilophosaurs in the vicinity, so that they can all take the creature down together."
"Which means we can still expect them to be after us," Sarah summarised. "Look, just give me a pair of scissors; I'll cut that bit of hair off. Anyone?"
A few shrugs and 'sorry's put paid to that idea.
"I've got a pen-knife," Briggs suggested. He drew out the implement and handed it to her, and she started hacking awkwardly at the lock of hair. Honestly, at the moment, she didn't care about how it looked. She just wanted that… stuff… out.
"There's another thing, too," Skinner continued. "The Dilophosaurs were retrieved from Isla Sorna, where they'd been co-existing with other predators, like the raptors, for two decades. In twenty years, it's possible that such adaptable predators as those would have learned to recognise that scent."
Silence.
Simultaneously, everyone started moving again, following Rogers' compass. Sarah continued trying to chop the lock off.
Another scream. Sarah looked back to find that the red-haired scientist had been pulled out of Briggs' grasp and dragged to the ground by a huge, featherless raptor. It started to tear into his flesh, as two Dilophosaurs and another, smaller biped landed on his belly and did the same. The gunshots of Hawkins and Briggs may have distracted the raptor, but not the smaller predators. The screams gurgled out and were eventually silenced.
Everyone backed away and quickly fled again. They ran for safety as fast as they could.
They emerged onto a highway. It was clogged with traffic. The sounds and lights could keep the predators away, they hoped. They'd escaped.
…
Doctor April Thorpe had sneaked away while no one was looking. No way was she going to leave behind her greatest work, the cure to DX. It wasn't tested, but she was very confident of it. She needed only to quickly get in and out.
She retraced her steps to the back-door of the facility. She opened the door using her own set of keys, and stepped into the lab. It was empty. It had been trashed by the creatures.
Thorpe only needed her journal. It was in a cupboard underneath her workstation, in a separate section of the lab. She entered the office, grabbed the journal, and quickly re-entered the greater laboratory. She could get out of the facility more easily through the front door, as long as the creatures really were gone.
A growl.
She looked behind her, onto one of the counters. A Dilophosaur, looking her dead in the eye.
She turned to run.
Another one, sat on the other workstation.
It spat on her, hitting her in the eyes.
Daggers were thrust against her face and into her eyes, penetrating through her head and right to the back of the skull. Her vision turned to black as she fell back against the counter.
Two pairs of claws landed on her back.
She was gone in a few seconds.

--------------------------------------------------

Chapter Fifty-Four
Catalyst

There is no truth sure enough to justify persecution. – John Milton

Tyrannosaurus rex. Forty feet long. Thirteen feet tall at the hip. Top speed: twenty-five miles an hour. Primary weapon: a heavy skull housing a mouth full of twelve-inch long teeth.
Two of them were bearing down on Miami.
As midnight approached, the large female led the charge down the high-street. Cars reversed and people fled in front of it. Faced with a potential feast, she and her mate paused to take stock. Then, letting out a great roar, she ran full-speed ahead. She caught up with one of the slower people. She caught the woman in her jaws. She then repeated the process multiple times.
The smaller male stayed two steps behind, but if anything, his carnage was more thorough. He swung his giant head through a shop window, scattering glass at the people inside. He then reached in and pulled out three people in his jaws.
The sky was pitch-black, as the clouds covered the stars and moon. The street-lights elucidated the city, though they were rapidly being destroyed.
The Tyrannosaurs were followed by all manner of smaller predators. A pack of five rhino-sized Hyaenodonts was bickering with a pair of Silurian whip-scorpions over the inhabitants of a video shop, allowing the potential prey to escape through the back-entrance. However, once outside, they were ambushed and slaughtered by three sabre-tooth cats.
Further down the street, a swarm of Procompsognathus was bothering a huge, old, slow-moving Camarasaur. He was alone, having been left behind by his herd. He bore deep wounds, given to him by the tyrannosaurs, which had been chasing him before happening upon the veritable feast that was Miami. The compies thronged over him, nipping and biting at the wounds. This was causing him a great deal of irritation, and was sending him into something of a frenzy of pain. He sped up and slowed down his walk unevenly, and swayed his neck from side-to-side, giving a strange sort of howl. Further back, a raptor was following, obviously intending on making the most of the potential smorgasbord.
Back at the head of the chaos, the tyrannosaurs stopped at a junction. They'd crossed paths with a Stegosaur, which was now waving its spike-ended tail in a show of defensive aggression. This tactic smashed moving cars and impaled bystanders. The Stegosaur flushed blood into its back-plates, creating a colourful display, illuminated by the street-lights. The Tyrannosaurs stood back, somewhat mesmerised by this display. Then, they snapped out of it. The female gave a snarl, and charged towards the stegosaur's upper flank. She head-butted the herbivore, and pushed it off balance. The swing of the tail-spikes gashed the female's hind-limbs, and convinced her to back away. She was followed up by the male, who grabbed the Stegosaur's vulnerable collarbone. The predator wrung the herbivore's neck, and spilled blood, well out of range of the tail-spikes. With a pained grunt, the Stegosaur forced its head out of the Rex's jaws, and ambled away in retreat.
The female Rex was wounded, but this didn't impede her hunger. The crossroads, and the general area around it, had long since emptied of people. The corpses were attracting scavengers.
A couple of future-predators arrived on the scene down an adjacent road, and, while giving the larger predators a wide berth, investigated the carcasses. The female rex saw them, and charged.
She head-swung at one of the future bats, and sent it flying backwards.
Suddenly, half a dozen or so future predators emerged from their hiding places inside the buildings around the street. They all leaped onto the female rex, and started tearing at her flesh. Three started clawing at the stegosaur-inflicted gash in her leg. The female tried to pull them off, but they all just repositioned away from her head. The female's puny arms just flailed, rather pathetically, at the predators.
The male stood back, slightly confused. Then, he lunged in, and tried to dislodge some of the predators. Although he pulled one off, it just clambered over him and started biting and clawing at his flank.
The female rex managed to pluck off one, then two, then three megamyotids, completely eviscerating one of them in the process, and fling them away. The bats withdrew to lick their wounds, and the mated tyrannosaurs shared in dislodging the last few. The last one, still trying to widen the gash in the female's leg, was torn apart between the jaws of the two dinosaurs, which promptly started devouring its flesh.
Once finished, the pair continued down the street, heading towards the city-centre, ready to cause more destruction.
But help was on its way.
…
The Charlie-Squad helicopter, carrying Doctor Grant, Connor and Abby, closed in on the tyrannosaurs. One of the riflemen, named Wooding, leaned out of the helicopter window and took aim. To Abby's disapproval, he was using bullets. Three other helicopters circled around the Rex. Two of them were Charlie choppers with 'Γ' symbols on the side. The other one was a news helicopter filming for Channel 6 News, with the station's logo on the side.
Wooding fired, and hit home on the male's flank. Blood spurted out, and the tyrannosaur gave a subdued howl. The two other riflemen fired, both hitting the dinosaur's neck. The male shook his neck, and retreated back the way the two had come.
"Stay on the big one!" came an order over the radio.
Their pilot flew around to give Wooding a better vantage point on the female, who was now continuing on down the street. The Channel 6 helicopter was in the way, and failed to move out of the way. The Charlie pilot signalled through the glass at the Channel 6 pilot, but he didn't notice.
Connor pulled the other door open, and leaned out.
"GET OUT OF THE WAY!" he yelled over the roar of the turbine. This time, the Channel 6 copter noticed, and backed away.
The Charlie chopper took up its new position, and Wooding leaned out again. He took his shot, and hit the female in the flank. She let out a roar of pain, and started charging away from them.
The customers of a petrol-station scattered as the rex approached, and she trashed the shop building. As the helicopters caught up, a Camarasaur covered in the compies was charging about further down the street. The Rex was half-under the canopy, and Wooding couldn't get a good aim at her. Below them, the Channel 6 helicopter was hovering ever lower to get a proper look at the predator underneath the cover.
"OK," Wooding said as he pulled back into the cabin, turning to the three civilians, "you know how we invited you three on here to help with some knowledge of the predators? It'd be real swell if you could help us get that dinosaur out from under there."
"I'm sorry," Grant replied, "but clearly these tyrannosaurs are different from the ones I met in Jurassic Park. But there is something I do know from the fossil record – their best sense is smell. We need to lure them out with something that stinks of meat."
"Right," Wooding said, "are we talking rump roast, or… an actual cow here?"
A bellow sounded further up the street. The badly wounded Camarasaur was charging straight for the petrol-pumps, paying no attention to the helicopters or the Rex. The biting compies must have been driving it insane.
The Rex dodged out of the way just as the Camarasaur made it to the petrol-pumps. The herbivore used his huge weight to bring down the canopy, and dislodge the pumps.
In a second, the whole vicinity disappeared in flames. The Camarasaur vanished amongst the fire. The Channel 6 helicopter had enough time to react, tilting in the other direction, but not enough time to escape. The explosion engulfed it in seconds.
A wave of heat and shock swept at the army helicopters. Shrapnel hit the hull, but fortunately no one inside was injured.
The female tyrannosaur had survived no worse for wear. As the explosion receded and the flames subsided, the pilot called back to the passengers. "We're losing fuel!"
"What!" Wooding called back.
"Check the hull!" he directed.
They opened both doors and looked out either side. On the right, Abby saw it – a hole in the steel, through which fuel was pouring out. It must have been pierced by the shrapnel. "There it is!" she said.
"Can you reach it?" the pilot asked.
Abby judged the distance. "No, it's too far." Wooding stretched out in front of her, and shook his head.
"Then I need to land this bird somewhere safe," the pilot hollered.
They flew away from the scene of carnage. The pilot informed the other two choppers of the situation, which then continued after the female without them.
…
The helicopter landed on a patch of grass to the south of the city, almost out of fuel. Grant, Connor and Abby and sat outside, as Wooding, the pilot and the co-pilot sent radio-messages out for help.
Grant wandered to the side for a minute by himself. Rubbing his forehead, he found a nearby tree-stump and sat down, facing away from the group.
He'd enjoyed seeing the InGen dinosaurs as much as the next guy. He was enchanted by them. Even though that had turned sour, the living dinosaurs still held a certain fascination for him, even now, twenty years on. He still preferred the fossils to the living things, and before he'd told himself that that was because the InGen dinosaurs weren't real animals; they were genetic hybrids, chimeras, theme-park attractions.
But these dinosaurs, they were real. They were taken directly from the past. But that in itself wasn't right – they were taken out of their natural time-zone, into a completely different one. And as for those future creatures, that was a whole other point…
"Where'd they go?"
He heard Wooding behind him. "Temple! Maitland!"
Grant turned around. Connor and Abby were gone. Nowhere to be seen.
XXXX
Lieutenant Doody was in the cafeteria of the Delta Force base. He was sitting at a table opposite Jenny Lewis. They sat in silence. Neither of them had started their meals, which were cold by now. The hall contained many tables. A lot of them were occupied by survivors, wrapped in blankets. A few others were occupied by soldiers, waiting for the next choppers to leave.
Captain Becker carried his tray down from the counter and sat alongside Miss Lewis. Although he looked ready to eat, he awkwardly put his cutlery back down after seeing the other two inactive.
Doody wasn't hungry at all. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen things like this before, in the regular line of duty, and particularly on Guns Island. It was just… part of it was the knowledge that as they sat here, eating, talking, resting, those creatures were still out there, killing and destroying.
"I need some fresh air…" Jenny stood up from the table, and walked over to the sliding iron back-door.
A few minutes more of awkward silence followed.
"She's been out there a while…" muttered Becker. Without a further word, he got up and followed her path out the door.
Another ten minutes or so of nothing. Doody played a piece of chicken around his plate. It looked tasty, but he couldn't bring himself to lift it.
He decided to go see where Becker and Jenny had got to.
He went out into the cold evening air. The cloudy sky concealed the stars, and only the lamps illuminated the airfield. A soldier stood guard on either side of the doorway.
Becker and Lewis were nowhere to be seen. Doody checked with the guards. They'd seen them walking around the corner, but never again. Doody looked around that corner, but no matter how much he looked, who he asked and where he went, the two were completely gone.
XXXX
Captain Hemple trekked through the forest. Rossiter was following close behind. In the complete darkness, he was entirely lost, but he wasn't about to admit that to Rossiter. He kept walking, straight ahead, over streams and through ditches, casting the illusion that he had some idea of where they were going. His knuckles were still raw.
"Do you really know the way back to the park?" Rossiter called from a few yards behind.
"How about you shut up and stop calling attention to us?" Hemple was absolutely exhausted.
"Oh yes, it's bad enough that they can smell us from the blood coming out of my cheek…"
"Do you know the way, company man?"
"Fine then, army man. Let's just wander blindly in the forest and shoot anything that moves."
Hemple stopped and sighed. He turned around to face Rossiter, and raised the silver revolver that he'd confiscated from Rossiter nineteen hours earlier. It was the one firearm he'd been using since then.
Rossiter stopped in his tracks and looked up. He didn't even seem that shocked. "Shot with Carl's gun. Seems somewhat poetic."
A rustle.
Hemple's arm whipped around in the direction of the noise.
He turned to Rossiter. "Stay here, and don't make any noise," he whispered.
They were standing on the top of a ridge, and Hemple cautiously descended into the ditch in pursuit of the noise. He was submerged in a layer of thorns and ferns. He held the revolver aloft, ready to shoot on sight.
He smirked. Rossiter had been right about him.
A shuffling of feet back up on the ridge, where Rossiter had been.
Hemple turned and headed back up the hillside. He returned to the spot they'd been standing on. Rossiter was gone.
"Rossiter!" Hemple whispered. "Rossiter!"
Hemple looked around for the coward. But he was nowhere to be seen. Hemple tripped over an unseen tree-root. He fell face-first, and cascaded back into the gully. He managed to hold onto the revolver until the point where he slammed onto the flat ground. At the force of the impact, the revolver fell out of his grasp.
Footsteps approaching him.
Hemple shifted onto his knees and fumbled around for the weapon.
He heard a pistol cock behind him.
He turned around, and fell onto his back.
Helen Cutter was standing over him, holding a Sig Sauer pistol straight at him. She was alone.
He was at her mercy.
Her expression changed from mild confusion, to a mild smile. She withdrew the gun, and returned into the undergrowth.
Hemple searched out the revolver. He grabbed it form underneath a fallen leaf. He pushed himself onto his feet, and held the revolver up again.
Helen was gone.
"Cutter!" Hemple shouted, ignoring the danger. "HELEN CUTTER!"
She was gone.
XXXX
Becker awoke in complete darkness. He was on his side, on a cold, concrete floor.
He tried to remember how he'd got here. All he could remember was going out of the cafeteria to find Lewis. He could vaguely recall walking further, but that was it.
He pushed himself up and onto his feet. He was still wearing the same clothes as before, but his weapons were gone. He tried to search around for some sort of light. His eyes were acclimatizing, and he reached out to feel the wall. It was cold and concrete too. He felt along the wall for a light-switch.
He found it. He switched it, and the bulb flickered on. It gave very little light, but it was enough for him to get his bearings. The room was actually a corridor. The walls were painted grey, and stretched around the next corner.
A chirp. Becker looked behind himself to see a small bird standing beside him. The bird was about the size of a pigeon, with colourful, red and orange feathers. It had no wings, and in their stead it bore long, feathered arms that ended in sharp claws. Its beak was full of sharp teeth. At the end of its tail, it wore four long feathers, each about two feet long. These feathers were striped, and ended in eye-spots, not unlike a modern peacock's tail. It was flicking them back and forth at Becker, chirping all the while.
A second bird came running up the corridor, tail-feathers held up. Then a third, then a forth. They were all chirping at him, for some unknown reason.
Becker ignored them, and walked past. He marched down the corridor, around the next corner, looking for a way out. The chirping birds continued after him, and others surrounded Becker from further up the way. Becker continued, accidentally kicking one mid-stride.
Becker came to a door. He pulled the door-handle down, and it opened. He made sure to close it before most of the birds followed, although a few got in with him.
Then he saw that the room he'd just walked into was full of the little beggars. They all noticed him come in, and quickly started chirping. There were at least two dozen of the bleedin' things, hopping and chirping around him.
Becker searched around the walls for a light-switch, and after his success, the pale glow of a light-bulb gave the room a little illumination. Becker continued his search for an exit. This room was a wide court, with several sub-sections. He decided to search them all.
He turned a corner to find another one of the birds, lying motionless, on its side, on the floor. It looked dead. Becker approached the bird. As soon as he got within two feet, it started twitching, then jerking like it was having a seizure.
Becker reached out his hand.
He sensed something behind him. He turned, and he saw it.
A mouth of sharp teeth opened wide in front of him. The creature was about his height, bore tiger stripes down its neck and back, and was shaped like a Tyrannosaur. It wasn't one of the raptors; but like them, it had no feathers or protofeathers. It stood on muscular legs, its arms were short and ended in claws, and its skull was large and heavy. It lunged straight for Becker.
Becker was pushed backwards to the floor, onto his back. He reached his hands out to protect against the incoming onslaught. The dinosaur swung its head at him, and knocked his arms out of the way. It then opened its jaws for the final attack.
Becker kicked the dinosaur in the nose, and rolled out of the way. Becker checked around for something, anything to strike back with. He saw the bird that had been seizing earlier; it was on its feet, as if nothing had happened, and it was looking straight at Becker. Becker backed away from the carnivore, which was now pacing after him.
Becker turned, broke into a run and sprinted out of the room.
The birds now jumped all over him, biting at his ankles and legs. Becker ran to the door, and shut it behind him. He momentarily loosened his force on the door in order to pull some of the birds off himself.
The dinosaur slammed into the door and Becker was sent flying onto the opposite wall. The dinosaur pushed through and fixed its focus on Becker.
Pulling a bird off his face, Becker shifted onto his feet and started running down the corridor. The dinosaur's footsteps were following behind him. Then Becker saw it. The emergency exit at the end of the corridor.
As he approached, he lifted his foot to kick in the safety lever, and open it.
Slam.
Nothing.
Becker fell back, clutching his foot. The door was locked.
The dinosaur was right behind him. There was no other way out – the last room door was behind the carnivore now.
Becker peered through the small glass window. He saw a dinosaur's form out there. It was unmistakeably a Triceratops, probably a young one by the look of it.
Becker had an idea.
The birds were still nipping at his ankles. He wrenched one off, and lifted it in the air. He then raised it up to the window. He shouted at the top of his voice for the herbivore to look this way. The bird was chirping like mad, and displaying its tail-feathers in futility.
It was working. The herbivore noticed them, and seemed irritated. It positioned its head-frill and horns in their direction.
The carnivore's head slammed right into Becker's back. Hellish pain swept through Becker torso. Then the carnivore grabbed him with its teeth and threw him to the side. Becker lost grip of the bird, which was now holding onto the window ledge by its claws and chirping.
The carnivore readied its claws for the final lunge. Becker tried to push himself off the wall and escape, but the pain and numbness proved too much to bear. The carnivore opened its jaws.
SLAM.
The Triceratops charged straight through the doorway, forcing the door of its hinges, and rammed into the carnivore. Becker was saved.
Becker recovered the sensation in his lower body, and escaped through the doorway.
He collapsed into the undergrowth as another surge of pain swept down his spine as a result of the loss of numbness. He coughed up into the ferns. Becker grunted and forced himself up again. He ran into the forest. He didn't care where he ended up; he just needed to get out of here.
…
Abby awoke lying on a tree-branch. It was very dark, and as her eyes acclimatized, she could only make out the branches immediately in front of her.
She grabbed hold of a thick branch just above her, and pulled herself onto her feet. Standing on the branch, and holding onto another for support, Abby took a look around. She could make out that she was in forest, but nothing else. She couldn't even see the ground. She cautiously stepped towards the trunk.
A booming cackle. It sounded like a baboon's call, only a lot deeper, and lot louder. The creature that made it must have been a lot bigger.
Then she heard it climbing up the tree-trunk. A clap was emitted each time one of its hands grabbed hold of the bark. Judging by the volume of the claps, it had big hands.
It hauled itself into view. At first, Abby could only see its head and face, and it still looked rather baboon-like. Its face was bare, and its neck was covered with a thick, dark mane. But in size, it was in another league; its face was about diameter of a gorilla's. It shoulders and arms loomed into view. Its long arms encompassed the whole tree trunk and even overlapped. The creature bore sharp claws. And as it opened its jaws to cackle in Abby's direction, she saw the huge fangs it bore.
She needed to move. She walked cautiously further up the branch, away from the trunk, looking for a place to jump to. The whole tree shook as the baboon presumably reached the end of its ascent. Then Abby's branch shook as the baboon grabbed onto it. Abby was taken off balance, and slipped off her feet. She reached out and grabbed the branch as she fell, leaving her legs dangling dangerously.
The baboon approached, until it was right on top of her. It howled at her, and bore its fangs. Then it swung its claws at her.
Abby let one hand go of the branch to save it.
The baboon jerked to stop itself going over the edge of its perch. It pulled back onto its hind limbs, and beat its chest.
Abby heard a crack from the base of the branch. It must have been snapping under the strain of the creature's weight.
As the baboon tried to regain its footing, Abby took the opportunity to swing her leg back over the bough and pull herself up, just below it.
The baboon noticed her. As she rose onto her feet, it took another swing at her.
She ducked.
She then raised her leg and kicked the baboon square across the face.
The baboon fell back, and the branch cracked some more.
Abby high-wired down the branch, back to the trunk. She saw that the branch was almost split at its very base.
It was about to go.
She raced towards the trunk just as it was splitting.
She jumped. The force of her push-off was the straw that broke the baboon's support. As she grabbed the trunk, the branch went down, and the baboon went with it.
Abby looked back. The baboon must have fallen before the branch fell, as it had been hit square across the back by the falling wood. The baboon stumbled a bit, and then fell to the ground.
Abby lowered herself down the tree-trunk and onto the ground. She didn't stay to check if it was really out.
…
Jenny awoke on the soft ground. It was night-time, and as she opened her eyes, she realised that she was in the middle of the forest again. She couldn't remember a thing after stepping out of the cafeteria.
She brought herself up onto her feet. She definitely wasn't dressed for a trek, but it looked like she was in for one.
She brushed the twigs and leaf-litter off herself, and cautiously stepped forward. The sky was very dark now, although she could still make out black and white in the darkness. She could hear the calls of prehistoric and future creatures echo through the trees all around her. Kelenken squawks, Camarasaur bellows, and above all else, Tyrannosaur roars. She couldn't have been that far from the city judging by the volume of the calls.
She set off, and found herself walking up a small rise. She emerged at the top, and could scarcely believe what she saw on the ground below.
About a dozen mounds of earth. They were arranged in a seemingly random order. They were unattended.
Jenny slipped, and fell down the hill, right into the middle of the set of mounds. She pushed herself up quickly, and looked around at the heaps of dirt. Now that she'd got a better look, she could see that each mound was topped in a crater, and in each one of these craters was a set of pale eggs.
She could tell that this was a bad place to be. She quickly made to leave the nesting site.
She could hear movement in the trees all around her. Twigs snapping, leaves rustling. She froze on the spot.
Two-legged, raptor sized dinosaur emerged from the bushes, and ran over to investigate. They were slightly smaller than the raptors, and from what Jenny could make out in the darkness, they were covered in a thin layer of soft feathers, everywhere except on their legs and talons. They didn't look like the scaly protofeathers of the raptors she'd encountered previously, either. These were completely different. These dinosaurs wore a rounded crest on the top of their heads, and their arms were lined with longer, slender feathers which hung downwards. These dinosaurs definitely hadn't been in the park.
The twelve or so dinosaurs didn't attack, as Jenny had expected, but instead they inspected the intruder. They sniffed and nudged at her. Jenny whimpered with nerves.
She slowly knelt down and took hold of a stick.
She rose up and swiped the stick at the dinosaurs, hitting a couple on the nose. They backed down for a second. Then, they focused an angry stare at her, rose their feathered, clawed arms, and stood their feathers on end. They growled at her.
She gulped. She'd made things a lot worse.
Just as they pounced, Jenny backed away and fell backwards onto a mound, dropping the stick.
Then she remembered the letter opener. It was her best chance.
She grabbed the blunt implement, pulled it out of her pocket, and held it aloft like a knife. The protective parents raised their arms at her.
Jenny closed her eyes.
Nothing.
She opened her eyes again.
The dinosaurs had surrounded her, their arms held aloft, but they hadn't struck her.
Then, simultaneously, they started brushing their shoulders. Here, their feathers grew particularly thick. The feathers detached and were blown towards her.
She felt them prickle into her skin. Soon, she was being covered in tiny, feathery barbs. After a few seconds, they stung like hell. Her eyes scrunched up with pain, Jenny lashed out at the dinosaurs with the letter-opener, and forced her way through them.
Scratching at her scalp and her neck, Jenny made her way back up the ridge and continued running, eyes closed, as far as possible.
She finally stopped to catch her breath, leaning against a tree-trunk. The pain had subsided, and her eyes back open again. However, now she noticed that the barbs gave off quite a pungent smell in such a high concentration. It smelled like nothing she'd ever smelled before; like a mixture of lemon juice and ginger.
She heard a chirping sound.
She turned around to see a bizarre-looking bird-thing. It was covered in feathers, though she couldn't make out their colour in the darkness. It had a beak full of sharp teeth, and instead of wings, it had long arms, ended in sharp claws. The whole animal was about the size of a pigeon, except for four very long feathers that grew out from its stumpy tail, each of which about two feet long.
She creature was looking straight at her, chirping.
"Oh, shoo…" She walked away.
She heard several more chirps from behind her.
She looked back to see five or six more of these birds emerge from the undergrowth. They were all sniffing the air in her direction.
Jenny realised – the smell of the barbs was attracting these animals.
The dinosaurs had marked her out her execution, and got these things to do the dirty work.
Jenny ran in the other direction, and heard a flurry of chirps following her.
One of her feet landed in water, and she fell into a muddy pool, her hands just about saving her face and body from getting wet. She tried to push herself out, but she then she felt the birds all land on her back, and force her downwards again.
She heard a gunshot.
She felt the birds all scatter off her back. She pushed herself back up again, and felt someone grab her hand, and pull her up.
It was Captain Hemple, holding a smoking silver revolver.
XXXX
Danny, Head-Keeper Campbell, Keeper Scott and Keeper McCoy walked through the forest towards the city. They could hear the sounds of the escaped creatures now. They intended to help out however they could, despite not having any weapons other than Campbell's nearly-empty rifle. Danny had seized the rifle after the tussle with Scott earlier. Night had completely fallen now, and they were guided by the light of a torch that Campbell had 'borrowed' from a fire-station. Moods were still tense, and they marched in silence.
Danny decided that now was as good a time as any to break it. "So, what creatures are we going after first?" He continued walking and facing straight ahead. "I nominate those invisible gremlins."

"I know what you mean," said McCoy, "but the gremlins weren't actually all that aggressive."
"Do you know that for sure?" Danny asked.
"Yes, we studied them," Campbell told him. "They're actually pretty peaceful if you leave them alone. They generally only attack if they perceive you as a threat in their territory, or if they feel cornered."

"Yeah, but if they do feel threatened," Danny insisted, "they'd be able to tear a person apart without him even knowing he's in danger. And think of all the people in Miami who could accidentally run into them."

"I get you point," McCoy said, "but I don't think they're our top-priority."
"Then what is?" Danny asked.
"The megamyotids," Scott replied. "If what Mueller wrote is true – and I wouldn't put it past Rossiter to lie about his own policies – then they really are breeding, and that could cause all kinds of destruction here, across Florida, America, even the world. It would be an environmental catastrophe. Also, the dromaeosaurs – they're very dangerous. Rossiter told us that those on Isla Sorna originally had the trait of killing out of boredom alone – killing for fun. But when the food supplies depleted there, they ceased that activity, and went back to hunting when absolutely necessary, so as to preserve supplies. But anyway, the megamyotids definitely need to be our number-one-priority."
"Then what do we do about them?" Danny asked, finally stopping and turning back to face Scott.
Scott smiled. "I have a plan."
They all turned at the sounds of nearby creature. High-pitched squawks emanated from an area of foliage in front of them. The squawks were followed by mammalian growls that Danny recognised.
Both creatures burst through the foliage, and into view. A feathery, two-legged dinosaur was wrestling with one of the giant wolves that Danny had seen in the Oligocene, which he later learned to be called Hyaenodonts. Danny recognised the dinosaur as a Psittacosaurus. Although the giant wolf dwarfed the small, two-metre long vegetarian, the Psittacosaur was putting up a good fight, its sharp claws inflicting gashes in the mammal's flank.
The two animals separated for a moment, and sized each other up again. Danny got a closer look at the dinosaur. The animal had a thin coat of feathers stretching from its head, down its back and along it tail. In the last half of its tail, these feathers lengthened and thinned out, and looked very sharp. If anything, Danny thought they looked like the quills of a porcupine. One final detail: the 'quills' were striped yellow and black under Campbell's torchlight. The Psittaco was waving this tail back and forth, quite like a cat getting to pounce on another. With the Psittaco, the tail had the extra feature of rattling loudly. Then, Danny thought he could see some sort of liquid squirting out from its upper hips, and over the tail quills.
The Hyaenodont ignored this display and leaped at the psittaco. It swiped its jaws at the dinosaur. The psittaco responded by turning around and revealing the sharp talons on its hindlimbs. It tore into the Hyaenodont's belly, causing blood to spurt, and the Hyaenodont to howl with pain. However, the mammal was still determined, and swiped its paw at the dinosaur's flank, injuring the dinosaur. It gave a horrid squawk, and swiped its tail at the predator's belly. The liquid scattered and seeped into the gashes. Then Danny realised – it must have been some sort of poison. It must have been fast-acting too, as the Hyaenodont gave a loud yelp, and quickly retreated into the undergrowth.
Danny and the keepers had stood by, enthralled by this fight.
Scott half-laughed with his breath. "I know they said they did it with carnosaurs, but I never imagined it would have been that impressive!"
The Psittaco turned to the four humans. It squaaaaaaawed at them and displayed its rattling tail. It was still in defensive mode.
Danny stood in front of the others.
"No, Quinn," Campbell warned. "Get back!"
Too late. The psittaco shuffle-charged, wheeled around, and tail-swiped Danny across the stomach.
Danny felt the explosive pain, and fell to the ground.
…
As Quinn fell, the Psittaco hissed at the keepers, and then quickly shuffled back into the undergrowth. The three people ran to Danny's side. They knew the danger. Contrary to what Rossiter had put on the information post, Psittacosaurus was not 'harmless'. Right now, neurotoxins were rushing through Danny's blood. The dosage was enough to merely irritate the Psittacosaur's natural predators, like large carnosaurs, but something as small as a human… they'd never tested it, in any case. It could be potentially lethal.
Danny coughed up blood as they lifted him onto his back. He was gasping for air. His shirt was ripped by the quills, and through the gaps they could see the long gashes. Campbell ripped the shirt open, so that they could get a better look. He was bleeding heavily.
"We need to get him to a hospital, or somewhere with some medical facilities anyway," McCoy said.
"The facility," Scott suggested. He and Campbell shared a knowing look. Scott turned back to McCoy. "They have a ward and an operating theatre there. We can't be too far from it now."
"Hey!" Danny gasped. He was looking at Campbell. "Behind you!"
Campbell looked behind him. There was nothing there. He turned back to Quinn. His worst fears were being realised. He was already hallucinating.
"No, seriously, look, it's…" Quinn grunted painedly. "It's… camouflaging!" Random syllables were emphasised from the pain.
Campbell leaned back to think. If he could get his bearings, then he could find the facility, and…
Thwack.
Quinn pushed himself up and past the keepers, hitting Campbell across the face, in the direction of the supposed gremlin. He looked about himself in panic. Then, "There!" He rushed off in a random direction.
Campbell hurried after him. He just about kept up with Quinn in the darkness, by following the grunts and crazed utterances he let out. Things like "I'm not letting them go this time!" and "Come here you bloody cowards!" were basically keeping Quinn trackable. But Campbell was still losing him. The insane declarations stopped, and soon Campbell lost him in the darkness.
A hallucinating, mortally-wounded ex-cop was chasing imaginary gremlins through the Everglades, and Campbell could do nothing to help him.

-----------------------------------------------

Chapter Fifty-Five
Let Them Howl
...
Never retreat. Never explain. Get it done and let them howl. – Benjamin Jowlett
...
Half an hour after Quinn's disappearance, the three keepers convened among the trees. Each one of them stood against a different tree-trunk, so that they formed three points of a triangle. All of their search efforts had ended in failure. Quinn's chances weren't good. Now they had to prioritize.
"We go after the megamyotids," Campbell established.
"Yeah," Scott reinforced. "I mean, even though our only proof of their breeding is Mueller's note, the threat's big enough to take action against."
"You said you had a plan?" Campbell asked.
"Yeah. We have to go through the city. I discovered something about the megamyotids recently. I didn't get to tell you but…"
"You mean you chose not to?" Campbell queried.
"Guys, stop bickering," McCoy ordered them. "Scott, what do we have to do?"
"Follow me." He pushed off the tree trunk and started walking through the ferns, in the direction of the creature-sounds.
"Scott, was it you?" Campbell called after him. "Did you really cut the power?"
Scott ignored him.
…
A pile of letters were pushed through the mail-box and landed on the carpet.
Vincent Scott walked out onto the landing barefoot to collect the mail. He picked up the letters, and shuffled through. One envelope after another was addressed to Robert Blackmore. As he paced back into the kitchen, he found one addressed to 'Vincent Scott'.
He put the other letters down on the table for Robert to collect when he got back, and opened his one. It was addressed from Everglades Wildlife Reserve.
'Dear Sir,' it read, 'we wish to inform you that your application for a job as park keeper at our wildlife reserve has been successful.'
Scott breathed a sigh of relief. He was in. No more room-sharing with old college friends, he was moving to Miami!
…
"Heave!"
From their platforms to each side, Keepers Scott and Vasquez heaved the steel gate upwards using a set of gears and pulleys. The truck backed into the enclosure gateway. Two other keepers – both blonde women whose names Scott couldn't recall – hurried around to lower the truck's back-door, setting it on the ground as a ramp. They backed away to either side, as an immature bull indricothere rumbled out of the truck and into his new pen. He was already about the size of a rhino, but still had another sixteen tons to grow before it was its full size.
The blondes closed up the truck, and with the Paraceratherium running off into the trees, Scott and Vasquez closed the gate behind it.
"Good work guys," Campbell called up. The truck drove away, and Scott climbed down the ladder.
He ran over to Campbell. A ball of nerves inhabited his stomach, but he clamped down on them. "Hi, I'm new!" he outstretched a hand. "Vincent Scott."
Campbell put down his rifle, smiled, and shook the hand. "Gary Campbell."
"I… just… to see the biggest land-mammal ever was just… incredible!"
"Heh. I get that. Although, he's not the biggest yet! He's got a good few more years to go yet before he's over the mammoths."
"So, raising him without a mother, you think that'll have any effects on his temperament?"
"The men at the facility replicated the process as best they could. This is one of the less desirable side-effects of the cloning process – no natural parents until the second generation."
"Have you ever been in the facility?"
"No, the security measures in there are intense. There's a pretty strenuous disinfection process that you have to undergo before getting in. Only the people who work there regularly get off lightly. Everyone else is checked for any pathogens that might hurt the developing animals."
"Of course, that makes sense. So, what's next?"
"There's a dangerous creature coming into a high-security enclosure. We need all the hands we can get."
"OK, let's go for it!"
…
Twelve keepers gathered around the electrified, reinforced steel fencing. The enclosure was down a narrow pathway, so the creatures had to be airlifted into their enclosures. Everything was already in place for them before they got into the enclosure, all the keepers needed to do was stay by the enclosure in case anything happened.
As they waited for the helicopters to arrive, Scott decided to get himself better acquainted with the other keepers. He started with one of the blonde woman from earlier. She was standing alone. Even though this woman looked more approachable – and didn't carry a rifle – he was even more nervous this time, for some reason.
"Hi," he said, outstretching his hand. "My name's Vincent. Scott."
The woman turned. "Well which is it?" She smiled. "Vincent or Scott?"
"Hah, both!"
The woman shook his hand. "Amy McCoy. You new here?"
"Yeah, just got started yesterday. How long have you been here?"
"A couple of months now," McCoy answered. "I was at Kruger for a couple of years before it."
"I was at Kwa-Zulu Natal myself. Fancied a change of scenery. I had no idea how much it would change…"
"Where you from? You don't speak with a South African accent."
"Neither do you. I'm from Denver. You?"
"Cheyenne, in Wyoming."
"So, what are these creatures?" Scott asked.
The helicopter arrived. Suspended beneath it was a steel crate, which was shaking about wildly as its inhabitant thrashed around for a way out. It hovered above the enclosure, and then lowered the crate inside.
"The megamyotids," McCoy answered. "Future creatures."
Scott remembered being told about the future creatures in the introduction talk yesterday. They'd bred all of these creatures female to avoid breeding – they were apparently too dangerous to allow them to reproduce. These creatures were mainly here to bring in extra guests, and so raise funding for other breeding projects. But they were never to tell the guests that fact.
The helicopter brought eight more crates and lowered them each into the pen. The introduction of the creatures was carried out without incident. The keepers left one by one, some going to check up on the other creatures, others to have lunch. Scott stayed a while longer – he wanted to see the megamyotids for himself.
Ten minutes after McCoy had left to feed the forest dinosaurs, one of the creatures came close enough to the fence for Scott to see it.
The grey, skull-like face sent shivers down Scott's spine. It inspected the electric fence. It sniffed, and gave out a weird rattling sound from the bottom of its throat. They made use of super-acute echolocation, according to McCoy. Perhaps, Scott mused, it could sense the electric current running through the steel wires. It certainly didn't bother to try touching them.
It then focused straight at Scott. It didn't have any visible eyes; they were hidden under folds of skin. But Scott could still make out that it was pointing its ear-holes (situated in the centre of its face) not at Scott's face, but at his heart. It could sense his heartbeat.
It made no further sound, and turned back into the forest, into the darkness.
Absolute power corrupts even when exercised for humane purposes. The benevolent despot who sees himself as a shepherd of the people still demands from others the submissiveness of sheep. The taint inherent in absolute power is not its inhumanity but its anti-humanity. – Eric Hoffer
That evening, Scott was a ball of nerves once again. He breathed deeply. This time, he was meeting the CEO of BioSyn, and Land of Time's founder, Howard Rossiter. He stood inside the management complex, on the park's north-western edge. He was outside Rossiter's office, waiting to be called in. He knew that as soon as Rossiter called his name, his nerves would immediately turn to mush. It was a habit of his: put off thinking about the source of anxiety until the last second. This applied to alarm-clocks, big meetings, and job interviews.
"Vincent Scott!"
There it was. Scott breathed in, opened the door, and stepped inside.
Howard Rossiter was sitting at his cluttered desk. The hexagonal office featured many well-stocked bookcases, a plasma screen, and his pinewood desk. Rossiter only came here, to his Land of Time office, on rare occasions. Usually, he took care of managerial duties from his office at the BioSyn HQ in Miami. But he still managed to build up a considerable mess of documents here – primarily because he never cleaned it. Scott had garnered all this information from Patricia, Rossiter's secretary.
Rossiter was reading through several printouts of text. As Scott opened the door, he looked up with a smile. "Ah, please sit down." He motioned to the chair in front of the desk.
Scott pulled up the chair, and sat. He tried to seem relaxed, but formal too. It helped that the uniform was rather comfortable. "Thank you," Scott remembered to say, just a little too late.
Rossiter cleared the printouts and sheets away from the space between them. "Sorry," he said, outstretching his hand, "I must get this place properly cleaned out some day." Scott shook his hand. Rossiter continued. "Keeper Scott, it's my policy to arrange a meeting with all new keepers after their second day at the park, to make sure, personally that they're settling in well. How have you been?"
"Great, actually. I just have to say thank you so much for this incredible opportunity, sir. The whole experience has just been amazing. And the breeding projects are interesting, to say the least."

"Glad to hear you say so.
"There's only one thing I wanted to ask: when do you plan on rehabilitating the woolly mammoths? No one else seemed to be sure. It's just that they're not very well-suited for this tropical climate."
"That has been a worry for a while, but I'm afraid we can't introduce the mammoths back into the wild just yet. It's too risky."
"But they'd be fine in, say, the Yukon, and they're uncomfortable here, and…"
"I don't think they really are, Keeper Scott. I understand that you're just getting to know the creatures, and soon you'll see that they're contented in this environment. For the time being, we need their star-power to bring in guests, which will help to fund the other projects."

"Right… are you sure they're happy?"
"As sure as one can be. I've got to know all these creatures, Keeper Scott."
"OK, sir."
"Right, that's good that we can settle this. I'm very sorry, but I have a meeting with the shareholders..." Rossiter said, looking at his watch, "…in ten minutes, and I need to get my order of business sorted out."
"Of course, sir. Thank you for seeing me."
"Any time," Rossiter said with a smile.
To believe in something, and not to live it, is dishonest. – Mahatma Mohandas K. Gandhi
The next day, Scott was feeding the Pachycephalosaurs with Keeper McCoy.
"So, you had your meeting with Rossiter yet?" she asked.
"Yeah, yesterday evening. Only a short one."
"What did you think of him?"
"He seemed alright." Scott threw an apple deep into the forest, which a young pachycephalosaur ran after.
"Are you just saying that to be polite?"
Scott was a little taken aback, then nervously smiled.
"Yeah," McCoy assured. "He's definitely not the person to front this project."
Scott nervously looked around himself, looking for a camera.
"Don't worry, there aren't any cameras facing this way," McCoy notified him.
"Heh," Scott chuckled anxiously. "Yeah, I guess you're right."
"He talks about the merits of the park, and yet barely spends any time here. He just comes whenever he has to."
The urge to save humanity is almost always only a false-face for the urge to rule it. – H. L. Mencken
Scott started to take an interest in the disease 'DX'. It was a prion disease that had decimated the population of dinosaurs on Isla Sorna. Scott was fascinated by how something could have such an effect all by itself. He started making use of the small laboratory at the management complex, taking samples of skin from the dinosaurs that had been rescued from the island – raptors, compies and dilos in particular. Over the next few months, he learned to recognise the signs that showed how DX had affected the creatures. The creatures had all been touched by DX somehow – either they'd had it and been cured, or their parents had.
Scott decided to find out how the cure worked, and went to Rossiter to request a visit to the facility.
"Come in!" Rossiter called.
Scott entered the office. The desk was still utterly untidy, and looked as if it hadn't changed much since last time.
"Hi, sir, I was wondering if I could ask you something?" Scott asked, taking a seat.
"Oh, of course, do ask."
"I was wondering how your company cured DX?"
"Ah, yes. To be honest, I wasn't the one who made the discovery. I can't really tell you how it all works, I'm afraid!" He chuckled.
"Then, who could? Maybe the people in the facility?"
"Yes, perhaps, but they're very busy with the new creatures. And what with the disinfection process, it would just be a major hassle. There's enough to be dealt with here, at the park, right now, just five months before opening day."
"Yes, but I was very interested in this, sir."
"I'm sorry, Keeper Scott, it's just not a good idea."
And that was all Scott got out of him. Having been fobbed off, Scott decided to find out for himself.
He continued his studies of the creatures, familiarising himself with the effects of DX. Then he decided to go for the facility.
…
The seventh and final Triceratops stumbled out of the loading truck. Vasquez and O'Donnell closed up the trailer after it, and the lorry drove away. This was Scott's chance. He'd told Campbell that he needed to leave work early today. Now, he followed the HGV on foot through the park towards the visitor lodge. There, he jumped into his red Golf Diesel, and drove after the truck.
This journey took him through Miami. He managed to just keep on the truck's tail through the traffic lights and zebra crossings of the city. Eventually, they arrived at a concrete building, and pulled around the back. The truck stopped in the open-air parking-lot. So this was the mysterious facility he'd heard so much about. The truck came to the vehicle entrance of the building, where there was a rising barrier, guarded by a plain-clothed man. The driver handed him an ID card. The guard checked it, and handed it back. The barrier rose, and the truck drove through.
Scott tried to follow. He drove his car around and up to the barrier. He lowered his window and the guard leaned down.
"ID?" he asked.
"Sorry, I'm new. I'm a staff-member at the park, Keeper Vincent Scott."
"Do you have security clearance?"

"No, but I…"
"I'm afraid you can't enter the building without an ID or a written note from Mister Rossiter."
"What, like from a teacher?" Scott asked sceptically.
"I'm sorry sir, but we can't risk anything."
In spite of his pleas, Scott was turned away.
…
Back at his Miami apartment, Scott lay on his couch, trying to think of what to do next. He couldn't just break into the facility; he'd get found and fired. There had to be something else.
He checked through his emails on his laptop. Amongst the junk-mail and occasional Facebook notifications, something in the Junk Folder caught his eye. It came from a man calling himself 'John Doe'. It had the subject 'Everglades Land of Time'.
The email read as follows:
…
Dear Mister Vincent Scott,
I have been following the genetics company BioSyn for more than fifteen years now. It has come to my attention that they have recently hired you as a park-keeper in a wildlife park in the Everglades, called 'Land of Time'.
As I'm sure you're aware, BioSyn specialises in the procurement and display of prehistoric animals by way of cloning methods. This is a method they stole from another company called 'InGen', more than a decade ago. I know what they may have told you, but this company does not have the animals' best intentions as a priority.
If you're interested in meeting me, then please email back. I haven't contacted any other the other keepers yet, because I believe you, being the newest, have had the least exposure to BioSyn propaganda.
Yours faithfully,
John Doe.
…
Although he sounded like a bit of a nut-job, Doe's knowledge of BioSyn was quite astonishing. If he'd found all this out, then maybe Doe could help Scott find out about DX. And if nothing else, Scott had a responsibility to BioSyn and Land of Time to find out how Doe had got his information.
…
Dear Mister John Doe,
We need to meet. Can you get to Miami by tomorrow evening?
Yours faithfully,
Vincent Scott
…
Truth never damages a cause that is just. – Mahatma Mohandas K. Gandhi
Scott sat in a little coffee shop in Miami. He was at the window, reading a newspaper. Judging by an in-depth search of the internet, no one online had the same level of info as this guy. Scott was eager to find out how he knew all this.
A man with dark, greying hair and pale skin came through the door. He was wearing a leather jacket over a white shirt, dark jeans, and sunglasses. He carried a black rucksack on one shoulder.
Scott pulled out a piece of card that said 'John Doe' and flashed it at the man. He immediately felt stupid.
Doe noticed the card, and nonchalantly walked down to the table. He sat down opposite Scott.
"Hey," he said, outstretching a hand. "I'm the John Doe who contacted you. Thank you for seeing me."
Scott shook the hand. He was feeling uneasy about the encounter, but pressed on anyway. "I was interested in how you procured all this information, and why all the secrecy…"
"It's necessary. In this rucksack," he took it off his shoulder and put it on the table between them, "is my entire collection of photographs and records that I've gathered in the past decade and a half. I haven't contacted anyone about it yet, because I had no one to contact."
"Right… You sure you want to meet here, what with all these people?" Scott realised the ridiculousness of what he was saying after it came out.
"It's called hiding in plain-sight," Doe reassured him, tapping his nose. "And, if I've been careful enough, BioSyn won't know I'm following them. But before I show you these photos, or tell you my name, I need to know you're not going to tell anyone about what I'm doing. I need you to… well, excuse the phrasing, but… prove your loyalty."
"Oh, right… Anything in mind?"
"There must be some kind of facility, where they're producing the creatures. It has to be nearby, maybe in the city. Can you lead me there?"
Scott considered this. Either Doe was a lunatic who didn't know what he was talking about, or the man who could help him get into that facility. He decided to go for it.
…
They arrived outside the concrete building. "So this is it?" Doe asked. "The facility?"
"Yeah," Scott authenticated. "Now I've held up my side of the bargain. Show me what's in the rucksack."
Doe smiled. "Let's get back into your car."
They drove into a multi-storey car-park. Scott stopped the vehicle in an empty parking space. He was about to switch off the engine, before Doe told him to keep it running. "It'll help conceal what we're saying."
"OK…" Scott was starting to get sick of this.
"Right. I gave you my word," Doe said. He pulled his rucksack onto his lap, and pulled out a pile of photographs. He passed them to Scott.
"Um… You weren't kidding about the need for secrecy, were you?"
The photos showed pictures of dinosaurs feeding in the jungle, various BioSyn documents and test-tubes, and even Rossiter himself with a woman whom Scott didn't recognise.
"That woman," he said, pointing to her, "is the number one most wanted person in the records of the British government. Those records in the other photos are how I found out about the park, and eventually, about you." Doe took off his sunglasses. "My real name is Richard Levine. I've been to Isla Sorna. I've seen the creatures. BioSyn do not have those animals' best intentions in mind. And as point of fact, I think that if I can get into that facility, I can prove it."
…
Scott sat in front of his laptop, as a video feed launched on the screen. It was Levine. Apparently, he'd spent fifteen years tracking BioSyn across the country, so he'd learned about espionage. He'd broken into the facility at night through the roof, and now switched on the infra-red mini-camera mounted on his head. He wore infra-red goggles, and used an infra-red torch. All this meant minimal likelihood of being discovered. The image from the mini-cam was feeding directly into Scott's computer.
Levine walked down the wide corridor. It was easily wide enough to allow a truck to drive through it. The, he turned a corner, and came upon a series of pens. The sight that now appeared on Scott's laptop monitor horrified him.
Dozens of creatures were cooped up in cramped pens and cages. They looked hugely uncomfortable, and some looked diseased. Some were barely able to turn around on their feet. Many were scratching at bald spots amongst their scales and feathers. Levine had been right all along. BioSyn was not interested in the creatures' comfort and happiness. They were just interested in profit.
Levine took a few samples of hair, saliva, skin and feathers, and then continued through the facility and found more cages, and more creatures being penned in. Levine eventually came to an area of laboratories. There must have been plenty of research work going on here. Levine took photos of several of the papers.
Through all of Levine's explorations, he found no evidence of embryos, or developing creatures. Where were the creatures coming from, then?
After avoiding the security cameras, Levine came back towards his entry point, and scouted out the other side of the facility. As he came towards an open room, Scott noticed something weird on the feed. There was light that wasn't coming from the torch. Normal light. Levine came out into an open room, and immediately both he and Scott were drawn to the source of the light.
"Are you getting this?" Levine whispered into his mouthpiece.
Scott just stared for a few seconds. Then he spoke into the microphone. "Yeah."
A floating, glowing orb of light, which was shifting and turning around itself on one spot. Scott could see shards inside it, held in by some invisible shield.
Levine made sure to stay back from the anomaly, in case the security cameras might see him in the natural light.
…
"What was it?" Scott asked, not long after Levine's return that night.
"I don't know. I've never seen anything like it. There was a computer console beside it. There were codes like… uh…" he checked his camera phone, "'OP266OP25'. What does that mean?"
"Um… let me see…" Scott had seen the codes on Levine's camera feed, and already had a theory. "Not sure what the first bit means, but… um… '25' could refer to 25 million years in the past. 'O' could be Oligocene, which is the epoch that 25 mya would land you in."
"Why would that be in a code?" Levine asked.
Scott looked Levine dead in the eye. "You never found any evidence that BioSyn were cloning anything. Maybe they never did clone the creatures. Maybe… maybe they got them from the past. And the future."
"But that's crazy! Time-travel? That's just…"
"Do you have any other theories?"
"Maybe BioSyn have another facility? Maybe this building was just a decoy for people like me?"
"OK, have it your way. Camp out at that facility for a day, a week, as long as you like. See the creatures coming out of it, and none going into it. Then we'll see. In the meantime, I'm going to study these samples you got me."
…
"Scott, I'll admit it. There's no other facility the creatures are coming out of. They're all coming out of that facility. I'm still not one hundred percent with this time-travel idea, but, in the absence of any other theories, we'll go with it." Levine sat down on the chair in Scott's kitchen. "Now, do you have any news for me? From your samples?"
"Yeah, I do." Scott wished he didn't. "They never cured DX. It was all a lie. The samples you gave me show that the vast majority of the dinosaurs there still have DX. They're just being kept there, together, to be experimented on. It's barbaric. That bastard Rossiter lied to save himself. And if they did use time-travel, then that just makes things worse. They plucked these animals out of their natural habitat just to entertain some guests. They took juveniles, babies away from their parents."
"OK. So, do you believe me now? That BioSyn needs to be taken down, however necessary?"
Scott thought about that for a second. But only a second. "Hell yeah."
Are right and wrong convertible terms, dependant upon popular opinion? – William Lloyd Garrison
Scott knew what he had to do. Help Levine, then close BioSyn down.
To everyone else, the park was a good idea. Maybe they'd still support it if they knew what Scott knew. But Scott knew what he had to do, and even if it wasn't popular, it would be right.
Levine advised him not to tell anyone about what they knew, or how they knew it. Scott would end up getting fired, and then his uniquely powerful position within the park, their greatest asset, would be gone.
Scott started taking photos in the park, and sending them to Levine. Together, they slowly built up a bank of evidence about the creatures and the corporation. They were not yet sure about what to do with them, though.
Unexpectedly, Scott was handed the job of taking care of the secondary power-supply. This power reserve would kick in if the main system switched off. BioSyn had foolishly forgotten to take care of this, and left it until the last minute. Scott had some experience with computer science, and so the job of setting it up on the system was given to him.
As he sat in that office preparing that secondary power supply, Scott started to have an idea. What if he could somehow cut the power himself, and let the creatures go? That would destroy BioSyn's reputation, and persuade people once and for all that bringing the creatures to the present had been a bad idea. But it needed to be bloodless. Otherwise, it would be a massacre.
He daren't tell Levine about this idea. Scott wasn't even sure he believed in it himself. He surely wouldn't get much support for it.
…
A week before opening day, Levine contacted Scott by telephone.
"Hey, Scott. It's Levine. I think the only viable solution is to tell the government, probably the army."
"What, are you crazy?" Scott exasperated. "They'll kill all the creatures!"

"Only if they have to. I'll be there, to oversee it all. They're the only people with the kind of power to get into the park, rescue everyone, and keep this from going terribly wrong, like Jurassic Park did. We have enough evidence now for them to listen to us."
"No. I won't have any part in this. It'll only end up in death and destruction. This isn't how it should happen."

"I'm afraid to say, Scott, that I'm going to the Army with or without your support. Please help us."
"No."
Levine sighed. "Thank you, Keeper Scott, so much for your help. It's been invaluable. You'll still get some kind of medal for your efforts. Goodbye."
Scott hung up first.
He was on his own again. He now had a week to figure something out.
…
Scott was working at the secondary power-supply again, at the computer. It had been two days since Levine's last call, and he'd been thinking about his plan. He needed to do it before the park opened, to minimise casualties. Preferably at night, when most of the personnel were gone. Just one thing remained now – to find a way to get all of the keepers out of harm's way, and then ensure that the destruction didn't last long. This would be the hard part.
There came a knock on the door.
"Come in."
McCoy came through the door with a smile. "Working hard?"
"Yeah," Scott replied. "Beginning to miss the outdoors."
"Oh, well here's a taster." She threw him an apple. "That'll keep your mind going. We need that power-supply to be going strong as possible."

"Thanks," Scott said, taking the apple.
McCoy continued on her rounds, and Scott returned to the computer. He needed to find a way to save the keepers, or else it would all be for nothing. In the meantime, he had another matter to see to.
…
He rented out a small warehouse in inner Miami, and fitted it with a particular pheromone emitter. This was an object which Levine had taken from the facility, and which Scott had worked to amplify.
According to research papers in the facility, the megamyotids were attracted to a particular pheromone, which they followed without fail.
Then, Scott fitted the warehouse with explosives they'd also found stored away in the facility. These would detonate and destroy the future creatures once the megamyotids were inside, at the press of a button. He'd set up a similar thing in a small building in the park too. The megamyotids would be attracted to that building and slaughtered before they killed anyone. If they happened to get out of the park, then this warehouse would work too.
…
Using his access to the security systems, Scott found a fault in them. The system required the insertion of two keycards before someone could access the inner system controls, like turning off the power. However, at least one of these keycards was quite easy to get around, and from there, Scott could be in. Or, at least, it should be easier to take down the other keycard. After that he could turn off the power, and release the creatures.
Then, he found that he could also send an alarm to the walkie-talkies of all keepers and other staff to get out of the park immediately. Once the alarm had been sent out, then he could let the creatures out. Soon enough, Levine's army men would arrive, and contain the situation. And Scott could take care of the megamyotids himself. He wouldn't particularly enjoy killing these animals, but they were just too dangerous. He wasn't too protective of the raptors either. They were cloned raptors, which were nothing like real prehistoric ones. And they were also far too dangerous.
That was his plan, anyway. And it was finalised.
…
The day before the opening day. Rossiter had revealed the park to the press that morning. Scott was readying his plan for action. Tonight, he would confiscate the heavy-weaponry to protect the creatures, send out the alarm, and turn off the power. This was the only way it could happen. He was desperate for it to work.
He readied the security system for his plan. Thanks to his work, the secondary power supply would not kick in. He could access the power-supply, remotely, from up by the Camarasaur enclosure.
BioSyn had some very heavy defences. Security turrets were positioned around the park. However, there had been some accidents over the past week involving the staff, and for that reason, they had been turned off until the problems could be fixed. That worked for Scott – that way, the harmless creatures wouldn't end up being slaughtered.
Scott's walkie crackled into life. "Keeper Scott?" It was Rossiter's voice.
"Mister Rossiter?" Scott asked, feigning respect. "Is something wrong?"
"There's been a disturbance at the future-predator enclosure, assistance is needed."
"But sir, I need to finish the secondary-power-supply."
"Scott, it's probably not going to be needed. Just get up there now." Rossiter cut out.
How could the CEO be so chancy on the opening day, of all days? How could he put everyone in that much danger?
It was already dark when Scott left his workstation. Scott's window of opportunity would soon close. He needed to sort all this out quickly. He jumped in a jeep, and drove to the enclosure.
As he went there, Scott got angrier and angrier at Rossiter. Whatever was going on at the megamyotid enclosure, it was Rossiter's fault. Bringing back future creatures was a foolish idea, and would give no great benefit.
As he arrived, the future creatures were tussling with each other. Campbell and Vasquez were already here.
Splitting up the creatures, and repairing the enclosure, took the whole night. By the time they were finished, the sun was rising. Scott's window had passed.
As he returned home to get some sleep, Scott couldn't help but rage at Rossiter's decisions and handling of the park. But Scott wasn't about to give up on his plan. He could do it tomorrow night. There would be only one hundred guests in the park, and when he sent out the alarm to the keepers, they could evacuate the guests. This would still work.
[I]t is a truth which the experience of all ages has attested, that the people are always most in danger, when the means of injuring their rights are in the possession of those of whom they entertain the least suspicion. – Alexander Hamilton
The plaza outside the management complex was in chaos. One of the scorpions had got out, and had killed a man. Everyone was grabbing rifles, and scattering across the park in search of it. The rain was pouring down. For Scott, this was the perfect opportunity.
He walked off towards the Camarasaur enclosure, carrying a remote device that would allow him to cut off the power.
As he walked, he started having second thoughts. What if something went wrong? What if the alarm didn't go off? And, the escape of the giant scorpion – one of the creatures Scott had deemed less dangerous – started to make him wonder what the other creatures could do. He hadn't had the experience of the other keepers, having been the last to be hired.
Anger, though, kept him going. If Rossiter thought he could control these creatures, well, he'd better think again. Scott's exhaustion intensified as he climbed the hill to the weapons cache. Eventually, he reached it.
Everything was ready to go.
He took out his device, and pressed the alarm button. Right now, alarms should be sounding around the park for staff and guests to evacuate.
Then was the hardest part of all. Shutting off the power. Scott held that remote in his hands. He typed in the code. All he had to do now was press execute.
He looked at that button. He held all that power, that potential destruction and death, in his hand. It was an absurd amount of power. The power to preserve life or cause death, to make or break a company's reputation, to give creatures freedom, or let them go on living in cages.
How had it come to this?
He was standing underneath a thunderstorm, getting soaked in rain. Raindrops streamed down his face. And he was questioning his whole life. How, in the space of six months, had he gone this far? From considering the job-offer to be the best news of his life, to wanting to destroy the whole park? Levine, McCoy, Rossiter. He could blame them for influencing him to do this. But, truth be told, he'd always had the ability to come to this. They'd just pushed him in that direction.
He scrunched up his brow, and focused on the task in hand. This was what needed to happen. He'd told himself that over and over again for days.
He raised his finger above the button.
…
And he couldn't do it.
He lowered his finger.
He fell back onto the mud. With the rain pouring down, he cried.
…
Then he realised something. He had a walkie-talkie. Surely if the alarm had gone out, he'd have got it too?
He checked the walkie, and sure enough, it was functioning properly. But no alarm.
He stood up. He took out the device and checked it. He went through the inner workings of the security system. He found that the alarm had been disabled by someone. 'USER: HOWARD ROSSITER'.
Him. How could he… "BASTARD!" Scott shouted over the sound of the thunderstorm.
…
He retreated into the weapons cache for shelter from the rain. He switched on the light.
It was empty.
Scott stood back.
The weapons were gone.
Someone else had got here first.
He turned around to look over the park.
At that very second, the lights on top of the electric fences started going out. One by one, the fences turned off.
"No…" Someone else was turning off the power. "No… NO!"
The last few fences turned off.
Scott frantically opened the device and tried to get into the controls. He had to turn the power back on… He came up against a firewall. He tried to break through it. All he got was 'ACCESS DENIED' over and over again. "Come on… no!"
Scott threw the damn device into the mud. He fell to his knees.
…
Connor opened his eyes. He raised his head to see a figure standing in front of him. He couldn't quite make out who it was.
"Are you awake?" the figure asked. It was Helen's voice.
Connor jolted. He tried to stand up, but he realized he was, once again, tied to his chair. "Damn."
"I have to say, Connor, I am impressed that you and your little group have survived this long," said Helen. "I had thought that, even if my men didn't get you, the creatures would."
"What? Why… you want to kill us? Why do you want to kill us?" Connor demanded.
She stepped closer. "Because of what happens!" she answered.
"What happens?"
Helen turned away. "You have to understand. You don't know it, but… What you people in the ARC are doing… It has to be stopped. Your experiments… They'll all go wrong."
"What experiments?"
Helen sighed. "It doesn't matter. I thought that when Nick died, everything in the future would be rectified. But it wasn't. Which means that it wasn't just him. It was you. And Abby, and Jenny, and Lester. And I knew this place would attract you all."
"What are you talking about?"
Helen turned back to face Connor. "It was for the greater good. All that I've ever done has been for the greater good!"
"You let those future predators out! They're gonna cause unbelievable damage!"
"I always had a plan for the future predators. One which I still intend to put into action."
"What… But… But why did you go through all this?"
Helen smirked. "Now why would I tell you my whole plan?" She stepped back. Only now did Connor realize where he was. He was in some sort of small, wooden cabin, with a few windows, a table, a coat hanger with one black coat hanging off it, and a door, which led outside. Helen stepped over towards the door, and took her coat off the hanger. "Admittedly, you're not going to be alive for much longer, so it wouldn't make much difference." She put the coat on. "But, better safe than sorry!"
Connor could no longer contain his anger. "You can't tell me your plan, because there is none! You're crazy! There is no plan, no sense in what you're doing! You spend five years building an amusement park full of creatures just to lure all of us in? And then you just let them all go, hoping that we would run into a creature along the way, so we'd have a nice gruesome death? The 'plan' is just madness! You could have just… shot us! Like Cutter!" Connor realized he had tears in his eyes.
"I kept you alive because I needed you alive!" Helen stepped towards him. "I needed you to hack into that computer! Who do you think unlocked your handcuffs in that cell? Who do you think programmed the computer system so that Rossiter's keycard was the most conveniently-placed, and the most crackable? When you disabled Rossiter's keycard, you disabled it across the whole system!" Helen smiled. "When Rossiter and I were designing the security system of the park, he insisted that the security controls should only be accessed through the insertion of two keycards at the same time. One was mine, the other was his. That way, we could only turn off the electricity together. I wasn't happy, but I agreed to satisfy him. I needed to disable his keycard so I could turn off the power. I didn't have the technological knowledge to do that. But you did!
"So, I organized for one of my men to slip you and your friends tickets for the park, and then waited until you could access one of our computers. I thought the 'seven digits' clue might have helped you get past the password, and obviously it did. I made it particularly easy to figure out. And once you hacked in and erased Rossiter's control over the system, it was quite easy for me to set the creatures free from a safe location. I seized the heavy weaponry to take away your best chance at fighting back. Then you'd served your purpose. I then planned to find a way to dispatch of you all individually. Give each of you a challenge that you were highly unlikely to pass. This is yours.
"And the park full of creatures? Well, BioSyn technology was used in those experiments of yours. I had to bring them down, and this was really the only way I could simultaneously bankrupt them and ruin their whole reputation.
"So, Connor, was that a plan?" she asked. She didn't look for an answer. She reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a pistol. She held it at Connor's forehead.
"Any last words?" she said.
Connor wanted to panic. But, he stayed calm.
"You're not invincible," he said. "You know, one day, you're gonna find that out. You're not a god. You're just a madwoman. You've killed the only people who tied you to the real world. Cutter. Stephen. Who's next?"
Helen pulled down the safety lock. "I did not kill Stephen."

Connor closed his eyes.
Then, he heard an oh-so-familiar call from outside.
As he opened his eyes, a featherless raptor burst through the wooden door, followed by a second. One of the things leapt at Helen, pushing her to the ground.
"AH!" She shot her gun three times, succeeding in startling the raptor. She then took her aim at Connor.
Connor ducked his head just in time to miss the bullet. But he had an idea.
He didn't raise his head again. He just went limp.
He could hear Helen running across the room, and the calls of the two raptors after her. Then, he heard a huge splash. They must have been beside the sea.
Connor squinted open his eyes. The cabin was empty. The two raptors had left.
He gasped for air.
A raptor called from outside. Both of them returned into the cabin. They eyed him up, hungrily.
Connor was helpless.
Another raptor call sounded from a distance. The two dinosaurs inside called back. The call from outside was repeated. This time, the two raptors followed it, and ran into the darkness beyond the kicked-down door.
Connor breathed a sigh of relief.
Then he realized that he was still tied to a chair with no way of defending himself, and rampaging carnivores all around him.
He wasn't out of the woods just yet…

-----------------------------------------------

Chapter Fifty-Six
The Big Picture
...
Better shun the bait than struggle in the snare. – John Dryden
...
Night had fallen. Noises of creatures were echoing around him in the forest. The herbivores were now moving away from the city to avoid the chaos and the predators. Fortunately, that was drawing a lot of the bigger carnivores away in search of big game. And the air-force intervention was helping to drive them out too.
Levine was on the search of one of the army helicopters. If he was going to help, he needed to find out their plan. He'd seen one land not far into the trees, and was heading straight for it.
He pushed through the branches, and came upon the clearing where the chopper was sat. A few men were standing around outside the chopper, sorting through heavy weapons and patching themselves up.
Something was wrong. The chopper didn't look like the standard ones the air-force used. Nor did many of the weapons. When they heard Levine arrive, the men all looked up. They were all wearing camouflage uniforms. There was no sign anywhere of a US banner – not even on the side of the copter.
These were Cutter's men.
Three of the men immediately approached Levine, rifles at the ready. The other four stood back and held their weapons at Levine, providing cover.
With no firearm himself, Levine raised his fists.
The largest man grabbed Levine's right arm and twisted it around his back, and pushed him to the ground. Levine groaned from the discomfort. The man raised his rifle at Levine's head. He smiled, and punched Levine in the side of his jaw with his free hand. The force sent Levine's mind spinning, and it soon cascaded into darkness.
XXXX
Captain Hemple and Jenny Lewis trekked through the forest. They were armed with nothing but a 150-year-old silver revolver. They had the task of finding their way to the city, and, hopefully, safety.
They both heard noises of footsteps in the distance. They stopped in their tracks. Hemple came close to Jenny, and held the revolver up in defence.
The thing was getting closer. It seemed to be running in a haphazard, directionless way.
It was panting. The breaths sounded very human. Hemple relaxed a little.
A figure fell out of the bushes in front of them. Hemple and Jenny cautiously approached it, Hemple still with the revolver held up.
The person was lying, seemingly unconscious, face-down on the ground. Hemple reached towards the person and pulled his head around to face them.
"Danny!" Jenny breathed.
He was definitely unconscious, but still alive, judging by his pulse. Hemple repositioned Quinn onto his back to get a better look. Immediately he saw the grotesque injuries on his belly. Hemple holstered the gun and lifted Quinn onto his shoulder. "We need to get him to a hospital."
"Yes. But… Something tells me they'll be rather busy at the moment," Jenny replied.

"I guess we could try and contact Delta Force, and get back to the base. But I'm not sure we can afford to spend the time it would take to look for them. I guess we'll just have to follow the sounds of the creatures and go into the city."
"Great…"
They headed onwards, and eventually the forest turned into a thicket of bushes. The ground became softer and wetter. Now they were really in the Everglades.
As they walked, Hemple caught a horrible stench in the air. As he raised his hand to his nose, he saw something in the bushes. He stopped walking, and lowered Quinn onto the ground. He walked over towards the shape. It looked like a figure. As he got closer, he saw something small moving on the body. It was making high-pitched guttural noises.
The thing, which was light green in colour, noticed Hemple's approach and quickly ran into the undergrowth.
Hemple cleared away a few reeds and saw the corpse's face. It was eaten out. All that remained was the skull and a few bits of soft meat. A centipede crawled out of an eye-socket as Hemple was watching.
Hemple withdrew from the kill-site, gagging.
"Who was it?" Jenny asked.
"Don't know," Hemple replied, coughing into the mud.
Holding her hand to her nose, Jenny walked over and looked at the man's chest. She then quickly pulled back to where Hemple was crouching at the ground, several yards away.
"His badge says County Sheriff Barry Jefferson," she told him. "He's been dead for at least a day."
Hemple stood up and lifted Quinn back onto his shoulder. Wordlessly, he left the area and carried on through the swamp.
A few hundred yards later, still in the same marsh, they heard it. Rustling. Something was moving through the vegetation. The sound came from their right.
Hemple and Jenny stopped in their tracks, and looked around themselves.
Hemple raised his revolver, and whipped it about with nothing to aim at.
Jenny drew towards Hemple, and came back-to-back with him.
"What do we do?" she asked, the panic clear from her voice.
Hemple had no idea. It was dark. Human eyesight was downright pathetic when compared to the razor-sharp senses of whatever was on the prowl tonight.
He heard more rustling, this time coming from further away. Perhaps the creature wasn't after them.
"Follow my lead," Hemple whispered to Jenny.
They trekked on. Carrying the unconscious Danny Quinn was not easy. For someone of his size, he was surprisingly heavy. He needed medical attention as soon as possible, or else he was just going to slow them down.
A large clearing in the forest lay ahead.
Danny groaned, and began to move.
"He's conscious," Jenny said, tending to him, "Danny? Are you there? Can you hear me?"
"P-…P-…Patrick… what are they doing to you?" he stuttered, his body shivering uncontrollably.
"I think he's hallucinating…" Hemple observed.
"What? Why?" Jenny looked confused.
"I don't know. But right now we really need to get him to someone who does know, and fast."
Something rustled in the bushes just ahead. Hemple raised his hand, signaling to Jenny to stop.
Cocking the gun, Hemple stared into the forest. He saw it. A featherless raptor. Not a very large one, but still unmistakably a raptor. It stepped out of the reeds, and then stopped.
Danny opened his bloodshot eyes and looked in the direction of the velociraptor.
"Six… foot… turkey…" he whispered, smiling childishly, "look Jenny, six foot turkey…"
Despite his delirium, Danny actually had a point. The raptor moved just like a bird, lightly bobbing its head. Occasionally, it would glance to its right, into the bushes, away from the group of humans, of whom it did not seem to be aware.
There was something almost ritualistic about the way the raptor moved. It would stand completely still for a while, and then glance to the right. Then it would bring one arm up to its head, rub it with the tip of its snout, lower its arm again, and then repeat the whole process several times.
"What is it doing?" Jenny whispered.
Hemple shook his head. "I don't know…"
The raptor suddenly raised its head, and made a series of loud, barking calls, before running off into the undergrowth.
"Let's move on." Hemple said.
"No…" Danny whispered.
"Come on Quinn, we have to get you to a medic."
A wild shriek broke the forest silence. The raptor came charging straight towards them.
"Run!" Hemple shouted. He wouldn't be able to take aim in time.
More shrieks came from all around them. Six more raptors burst from the undergrowth. Hemple and Jenny stopped.
The raptors had ambushed them.
They had probably been stalking the three humans this whole time, waiting for the right moment to move in for the kill.
And that moment was now.
Hemple wasted no time. He raised the revolver, and fired at one of the raptors. He missed his target, but thankfully the dinosaurs, spooked by the gunshot, refrained from striking and instead stood their ground.
Danny stared straight at the first raptor. "Sh-show a little resp-spect…"
The raptor just stared right back.
Danny stopped convulsing, and lost consciousness again.
The raptors moved towards their prey, growling.
"There's not enough bullets here to take out all of them…" Hemple said, frustrated.
One of the raptors stepped forward. At almost eleven feet long, he was by far the biggest raptor in the pack, and was therefore probably the leader. He snarled at Hemple, and prepared to leap onto him.
But the raptor didn't attack, and neither did the others. Instead the whole pack stopped growling and raised their heads, as if listening for something.
Hemple heard nothing. Nothing a human being could hear, anyway…
Something moved in the forest, and a shadowy figure zoomed through the vegetation. This caught the raptors' attention. The leader peered into the trees, but turned his head towards the first raptor, which also happened to be the smallest. The other raptors did the same. The pack leader snapped in the little raptor's direction. The little one stared back at his comrades and groaned disapprovingly, before heading off in the direction of the noise.
The raptors all watched the scout go, so Jenny grabbed the opportunity, and tried to run out of the circle of raptors.
"Jenny, no!" Hemple warned, but it was too late. Jenny was off already.
She didn't get far. Three raptors immediately ran in front of her and warded her back, before turning their attention once again to the scout.
"Damn it!" Jenny spat.
A rattle-cackle came from the canopy.
The alpha raptor turned to face the sound but it was too late. A large future predator leaped down from the trees, pinned one of the other raptors to the ground, and savagely swiped at its belly with her claws.
The alpha raptor screamed at the future predator and charged, but something crashed head-first into his flank, followed by a formidable sweep from a muscular arm that threw him back several metres. It was a second future predator.
The raptors had been ambushed.
The raptors closed in on the two future predators, but further rattle-cackling was heard, followed by five more predators which lunged straight at the dinosaurs.
"This is our chance!" Hemple shouted frantically, and together he and Jenny hobbled as fast as they could out of the way, taking the unconscious Danny with them.
The alpha future predator's attack, fuelled by revenge for her slain offspring, was so furious that her victim was no longer recognizable as having once been a raptor.
She looked up from the carcass and roared triumphantly.
Big mistake.
A raptor jumped onto her back – the one place on the future predator's body that she couldn't reach with her arms.
She tried to shake off her attacker but it was useless. 150 million years of dinosaur evolution had given the velociraptor some of the best grappling hooks in the animal kingdom. Its huge toe-claws. The raptor held on tightly to the future predator and sunk its teeth deep into her neck while shaking its head violently, shredding blood vessels, muscles and sinew. Blood gushed from the giant bat's wounds and poured onto the forest floor.
The future predator managed to throw the raptor off but it was too late. She had lost too much blood. She was even too weak to defend herself as the raptor pushed her onto her back and slashed the front of her throat wide open. The alpha's ultrasonic cries for help went quiet.
The raptor was yanked back. Another future predator had caught it by the tail. The raptor struggled, but the future predator was too strong. The raptor felt itself get lifted off the ground by the tail. Its left arm broke as the megamyotid swung it hard against a tree.
Dazed, the raptor tried to get to its feet. The future predator was quick to act, and slammed the raptor's head down to the ground with both hands.
The raptor tried to crawl away, but the future predator's jaws grabbed the front of its head, and pulled it to its feet. The bat let go and uppercut it with a force that would've broken a human's neck. But the raptor was no pushover. It lunged forward and bit the future predator hard in the middle of its face. Squealing in pain, the bat tried to shake itself free, but that just made things worse. In a last act of desperation it jolted forward and bit the raptor's throat right out. Choking on its own blood the raptor let go, and with a swing from the future predator's claws it was dead.
The future predator couldn't see or hear anything. The raptor's bite had wrecked its sonar system. It tripped over the carcass of its leader and fell to the ground.
Two raptors leaped onto the deaf-blind megamyotid and made short work of it.
…
Jenny and Hemple ran through the frenzy.
"We're nearly out!" he shouted to Jenny, "come on, come on, come on!"
A raptor ran out in front of them and bared its teeth, hissing.
They weren't out of the woods yet.
The dinosaur was violently shoved to the side however, as a future predator slammed into it and tried to hold it down while slashing wildly with its free hand. But the raptor was stronger, and wriggled out of the bat's grasp.
The two deadly predators sized each other up. Neither was going down without a fight.
Then they charged. The raptor shrieked and leaped towards its assailant. But the future predator was quicker, and grabbed the theropod's upper and lower jaw before swinging itself onto the dinosaur's back. The raptor collapsed under the bat's weight.
Jenny heard the dinosaur scream in pain. The future predator tore the raptor's lower jaw right out of its socket, before snapping its neck. The raptor stopped screaming.
Sickened, Jenny looked the other way.
…
Another future predator climbed up the trunk of a cypress tree, and made out the shape of the alpha velociraptor with its sonar. The sonar allowed the future predator to judge distances with extreme precision and accuracy, and once it was sure the raptor was in range, it leaped towards it.
But thanks to its lightning-fast reflexes the alpha raptor was able to dodge the megamyotid's attack. The future predator skidded to a halt.
The little scout raptor ran at the future predator, teeth bared, toe-claws extended, screeching at the top of its voice.
With a sweep of one arm, the future predator swatted the little raptor away, the force of the blow throwing it all the way back into the undergrowth.
The alpha raptor leaped onto the predator's flank, and tore its stomach open. The future predator struck the raptor hard in the face, one claw plucking its right eye out. The theropod howled in pain, and let go.
…
Jenny and Hemple carried the unconscious Danny out of the clearing. Even a considerable distance away, the sounds of the fight were still loud and terrifyingly clear.
Judging by the noises being made, it wasn't clear who was winning, but that didn't really matter.
A shriek came from the nearby bushes, causing the two conscious humans to jump out of their skin. A badly injured future predator staggered out. A deep gash ran down its side, trailing its intestines. The animal coughed up blood, before succumbing to its wounds.
A second animal emerged from the forest and leaped onto the killer bat. It was the alpha raptor, and Jenny noticed that it had lost its right eye. The future predator was too weak to resist the dinosaur, which used its remaining eye to inspect the entrails on the ground.
Enough was enough. The humans made their escape.
The future predator was still alive as the raptor began to eat it.
XXXX
"Doctor Page!"
Becker ran through the swamp towards the group, led by Sarah Page. As far as he could tell, they were the people from the facility – two scientists, including Skinner; three of his men, Hawkins, Briggs and Rogers; and Sarah herself.
As he reached them, he became concerned about the missing people.
"Why are you out of the facility?" he asked.
"The creatures attacked," Sarah replied. "We had to get out."
"And where's everyone else?"
"Well, we lost a few people," she replied, awkwardly.
"Jenson's gone," Briggs said.
Becker looked down. "Damn it…"
Becker had just escaped from some kind of trap set by, presumably, Helen Cutter or BioSyn. Since then, he had emerged onto fairly open swampland, with thickets and bushes.
"We have to go back to the facility," Hawkins said. "We left Doctor Malcolm stranded in the past. We have to go back and rescue him."
A twig snapped in the bushes behind them. Becker turned around. "Uh… Hawkins, your gun!"
Hawkins reluctantly threw his pistol to Becker, who held it at the noise.
Footsteps were coming towards them.
Captain Hemple emerged from the bushes, followed by Jenny.
"Becker!" Jenny exclaimed. "Sarah…"
"Jenny!" Sarah replied.
"Quinn?" Becker said, pointing out the unconscious copper over Hemple's shoulder.
"We found him in the forest," Hemple explained. He's badly injured. He needs medical attention." He looked around the group. "Is Doody with you?"
"No," Hawkins told him, "but there are wards in the facility. We're heading there right now."
"OK," Jenny said. "Let's head there. Do you remember the way?"
…
After half an hour of sitting tied to a chair in a cold, rickety shack, Connor was getting really uncomfortable. He hated being out of the action. He could hear the creatures outside; calling, growling, hissing, howling.
He was worried, too. Helen had mentioned Abby and Jenny as being part of this thing that happened, the thing she was trying to stop. If Helen had tried to kill Connor, what would she do to them?
He heard gunshots outside. They were close.
"Hello!" he called. "Hello, help!"
The gunshots ceased. They were followed by hurried footsteps coming closer.
The door was still lying open after Helen's departure. Through it rushed two soldiers who Connor recognised from Delta Force, both carrying carbines. One of them was the rifleman, Wooding. They ran over to him and undid the ropes behind his back and around his feet.
"Temple," said one of them, "where the hell did you go?"
Connor stood up as the ropes fell away. "Helen Cutter." He gave the soldiers a look.
They understood.
"Connor?" Abby's voice came from outside the cabin. Connor breathed pure, wonderful relief. She came running in, and hugged him. He hugged her back. "What the hell just happened?" she asked.
"Helen tried to kill us," he replied. "She cut the power. She told me. She was here, about half an hour ago." He paused. "We have to find Jenny right now. She's in danger." He stood up and led the way out of the cabin.
He emerged beside the sea. An iron railing led around the concrete ramp which led down, to the side. Connor bumped into Grant on the way out. "Wait…" Grant said. "Why would she try to kill you? And what about Jenny?" he asked.
"Because she thinks we're going to do something in the future. Including Jenny. It's why she made the park. To draw us in. Also, apparently BioSyn had something to do with it too. She wanted to destroy them."
XXXX
Köld eru kvenna ráð. (Cold are the plots made by women) ~ Old Icelandic saying.
Howard Rossiter awoke face-down on a cold, hard, concrete floor. He pushed himself up, and looked around. He was in a circular arena, with silver walls. It was dimly lit by a long bulb above his head. He stood up, and saw that the only ways out were a handle-less door, and above it, a balcony.
Behind the balcony, a door slid open. Helen Cutter came to the edge of the balcony and leaned against the low barrier at its closest edge. "Hello, Howard."
"Helen…" Howard called up. "What's going on?"
"Howard, I need to ask you something. Don't worry, there are no cameras. It's just you and me. Did you disobey me and allow the future predators to breed?"
Howard fixed his facial expression to one of defiance. "Where are we? Why are you doing this?"
"You have to answer my question first. Then we'll talk."
Howard thought about his response. He was beyond caring now. Everything his life had been about was now in a state of ruin. He'd spent his career trying not to be another John Hammond. Now, look at him. He was exactly the same, except he'd killed a lot more people.
"Yes. I did. I sent a few BioSyn agents through the anomaly to find a male. I thought that these creatures deserved to breed as well."
"Well, you were wrong. The world ecosystem isn't ready for that kind of predator yet. Give it twenty million years or so, and then it will be. But now, it isn't. You've destroyed everything I was trying to do."
"ME?" Rossiter shouted. "You cut the power! You abandoned me! You abandoned all of us! After all we've done together, after all we talked about, you just left!"
"I know what needs to be done for the greater good. You know how you always used to go on about the big picture, about what was important in the long-run? How the ends justified the means? Well, turns out you were right. Maybe a few hundred thousand people will die tonight, but in doing so, they will save the world. They will save everything from that… global biome collapse. The collapse that you helped to create. You, you will go on to…"
"To what? Destroy the world? Do you really believe that? Do you really want to kill me?"
Helen paused.
"It doesn't matter what I want. I made a mistake before. I killed someone else. Someone important to me. But what I was trying to do, it didn't work. And now I'm here to rectify it."
"What is it? What are you talking about?"
"Your technology is going to be used in experiments. Terrible experiments. I couldn't let them happen. If I take away the BioSyn, then I take away the experiments. Now the park is destroyed, and so is your reputation, as are your finances."
"Oh, and the small matter of the population of Miami? And what if those future predators get out of the city and breed?"
"Well, that would be your fault, wouldn't it?"
"No, DON'T blame all this on me," Rossiter told her calmly. "You did this."
"Well, you're wrong, again, but that doesn't mean I don't have a plan. Right now my men are cleaning up your mess."
"Are you talking about those clones of yours? By the way, what about them? Did the man you cloned really consent to it?"
"He was dead. It didn't matter what he thought. But anyway, it's not them that are carrying out my plan. The replicating technology isn't very advanced, and the replicas don't have very strong mental faculties. Their failure during the battle at Miami Beach showed that. They were unable to adapt to changing circumstances, just like the dinosaurs. And just like the dinosaurs, they were wiped out. I had only a few replicates left after that. Some time ago, one of them had already disobeyed my orders openly. So, they were no longer useful. So I got rid of them."
"Just like me."
Helen rolled her eyes. "Yes, Howard, exactly like you. I ordered the few remaining clones I had left back into the park, so that they'd get destroyed in the bombing operation."
"You… you destroyed the park?"
"Yes, I ordered some of my mercenaries in. The whole place was destroyed."
"But there could have been people left inside! The staff, the visitors, Doctor Grant, Doctor Malcolm, the ARC team…"
"Whoever survived the breakout was safely rescued before that happened."
"Do you know that for sure?"
"Well, as a matter of fact, someone was killed in the explosion. Me."
"Excuse me?"
"I replicated myself, Rossiter. I sent my own duplicate into the park to get killed. I made sure to send her into a building, where they might find her remains afterwards. They'll all think I died when the bombs fell."
Rossiter stood below her, listening to her recount her various plans. "Oh, and then you get to run off into the past again and forget all this ever happened. Forget Land of Time. Forget BioSyn. Forget me."
"Rossiter, it's not my fault what you go on to do."
"Wait just one second! What I 'go on to do'? Do you actually have any evidence that I myself had a direct hand in it?"
Helen didn't answer.
"No, it was just BioSyn," Rossiter continued. "Did you just assume that I would still be in charge of it at the time?"
"I know that you're in charge at the time. That much is certain. Which means that once I kill you, it all goes away."
"This isn't the first time you've done this, is it?" Rossiter asked. "When you killed that person who was 'important to you', you thought you were going to stop this thing you speak of from happening, didn't you?"
"That doesn't matter anymore."
"If you were wrong that time, how do you know you won't be wrong this time? Huh?"
"I'm not wrong. This is completely-"
Rossiter started speaking over her. "If you kill me, it's just going to-"
"…different this time, this is about you and-"
"…turn out the same, because you can't change the future, Helen, and-"
"…that company of yours, and evil people who-"
They were shouting over each other now.
"…no matter how hard you try, you can't bring him back-" Rossiter told her.
"… who try to-"
"…because you're just insignificant, and so, obviously, was he!"
"You BASTARD!" Helen drew her pistol and pointed it at Rossiter's head.
After a tense few seconds, she lowered it.
Rossiter gulped.
He spoke calmly, and slowly. "I don't know what you're trying to do. Maybe you are trying to save the world. Maybe you will. In which case, yes, my death would be for the greater good. But what about those other people? The people who are, to you at least, faceless, nameless, blameless? The innocent people in the park. In the city. Potentially, around the world. What you've done is barbaric, cruel and wrong. Those people have done nothing to deserve their fate. They're innocent of whatever crime will apparently be committed. Maybe I will do something. In which, case I am guilty. So, go ahead. Do what you want to me. I will at least die knowing that my death has saved the world. Please. Finish this."
Helen stared him in the eye, and smiled very, very weakly.
"Thank you for making this easy."
She took out a device and pressed a button. A bleep sound was followed by the large door below her sliding upwards.
Helen turned away and disappeared.
A huge pair of jaws emerged from the darkness. They bore large, thick fangs for canines. Rossiter recognised this creature – it was a Gorgonopsid. It drew its whole body into the light, and noticed Rossiter. It raised it snout and sniffed in his direction.
Rossiter had nowhere to run.
He stood there, and accepted his fate.
The Gorgonopsid paced towards him, and opened its mouth, bearing its sharp teeth. Rossiter closed his eyes, and waited for the final blow.
With a screech of pain, Helen's plan was complete.

-------------------------------------

Life Finds a Way: The BioSyn Incident - a Primeval/Jurassic Park novel crossover fanfic (Act 2)

Mon, 08 Nov 2010 17:34:24 GMT

Chapter Twenty

The Lions’ Den

“Sir James Peregrine Lester, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Mister President,” Lester began, “I believe we have an international crisis on our hands. As I’m sure you’re aware, a tourist attraction has opened outside Miami, Florida, which boasts a selection of prehistoric creatures. British agents inside the park have confirmed these claims. In addition, they seem to have acquired creatures from the future. We believe their creatures have been acquired through anomalies. They are incredibly dangerous, and their close proximity to such a built-up area makes this an area of huge importance.”

“Lester, our military are currently preparing for a mission to Everglades Land of Time. They call it ‘Operation Peacekeeper’. British military assistance would be much appreciated, if that is what’s on offer.”

Becker perked up, sat on the other side of Lester’s office.

“The Anomaly Research Centre would be happy to offer assistance,” Lester replied.

Previously…

-- Danny came towards the now-uplifting gate and, with seconds to spare, the anomaly burst back into full size. He drove straight up the ramp, and drove through, to the other side. And the indricothere followed.
Sarah ran over to the portal. “Danny!” There was no reply. Then, before she could call again, the shimmering anomaly closed.
The indricothere was still spurting blood, but it would survive. It lay down on the ground after an exhausting day. The sun was setting, and Danny needed to find somewhere safe.
He mounted his bike, and then drove off towards the far end of the ridge. He couldn’t see how navigable this way was, as it was obscured by shrubbery. But if a gigantic indricothere could get up here, surely he could get down. --

The first casualty when war comes is truth. – Hiram W. Johnson

After about an hour, Danny reached the bottom of the mountain. He had in fact emerged in a canyon, about twenty yards wide.

He set his bike down on the rocky ground. He then sat down beside it, and considered his options.

He could wait until the anomaly re-opened. However, that could take years.

Quinn looked around the canyon, with a small stream being the only visible source of water.

Here didn’t seem like a very nice place to spend a week or two.

Something growled.

Danny turned to see, about twenty yards down the cliff-side, one of the giant wolf things, at a wider part of the canyon. It was up against the cliff-side, and was backing away from something, hidden by a stand of trees.

With a rustle of the branches, the something emerged.

It was a human.

As the human walked towards the wolf, he or she held a rifle at it, ready to pull the trigger. The person was followed by two more people, each with rifles. They were all dressed in black jumpsuits.

Danny quickly hid against the canyon wall. Hopefully the people with guns would be too busy with the wolf to notice him.

The giant wolf pounced. It easily pushed the human to the ground. Danny saw blood spurt from the person’s body.

The other two people quickly shot at it. These didn’t seem like bullets, though. They looked more like darts.

The wolf fell.

One of its attackers whistled.

Before long, a black truck came around a corner in the cliff-side. It was pulling a large trailer.

The people helped their bloody comrade up and sat him in the truck passenger seat. Then, they grabbed a huge net, and placed around the dormant predator. With the truck’s winch, they pulled it up and onto the trailer. Then, they got on beside it, and drove away.

The truck was not unlike the silver Hilux used by the ARC team at the airport. Was this the ARC team? After all, who else could travel to the past?

Danny followed the truck at a safe distance. After a few hundred yards, it turned right, and disappeared from view. As Danny caught up, he realized that it had entered a cave. He followed, and as he peered into the cave, he saw where the truck had gone.

A shimmering anomaly was clearly visible in the darkness.

Danny thanked his lucky stars. He had his route home.

****

“So, you and the President are on good terms?”

Lester had only just hung up. “Well, we have been in contact with each other before. Since the Russian incident, we’ve been in contact with some other governments, as you know. France, Ireland, the Netherlands, Belgium, Germany, Denmark and Norway, as any anomalies that open here could easily affect them, and require their cooperation to contain. We have also informed the US, as our closest ally could easily help us, both financially and militarily. There have been no reported anomalies on American soil, but it’s in both our interests that we share knowledge and research on the subject.”

Becker stood up. “So, what breakthroughs have they helped us make?”

“Well, without any active anomalies of their own, they can only theorize. But there may well be controlled anomalies in America right now, and that’s where you come in.”
“What’s the plan? You’re not going to go harping on about chessboards again, are you?”

“Christine is no longer a threat, thanks to the rather fortunate movement of that anomaly. So, it would appear our team in America is most in need right now.”

“What about Quinn? He’s on the wrong side of that anomaly right now. I’m not abandoning him now that we’re sufficiently prepared to deal with what’s on the other side.”

“Are you? It seems that those creatures did quite some damage to Christine’s base.”

“They were unprepared.”

Lester sighed. “Be quick about it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I want you back within two hours, with or without Quinn. I’m sending troops to that park as soon as we get the go-ahead from America. Whichever troops you choose to bring on this rescue mission will be going with you and the anomaly locker as soon as you’re back, on the second convoy.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

Becker marched out of the office and down the walkway. Lester turned his attention to the ARC team in America.

He dialed Jenny’s number, and waited. She wasn’t accessible.
That’s odd. Jenny always picks up, and she never lets her phone run out of battery…

He dialed Hemple instead. He was the same.

So was Abby, and all of the soldiers. And Connor.

Something had happened…

****

Danny sprinted back up the canyon, picked up his bike, and drove towards the anomaly. Stealth was no longer a priority, speed was.

He turned towards the cave, and drove into the shimmering portal in time.

Almost immediately, he felt the change. Apart from the weird tingling sensation, there was also a noticeable difference in heat. From scorching, arid desert, the air now felt cold.

He quickly stopped the bike, and dismounted. He found himself in a large, high corridor, about thirty feet wide, thirty feet high and stretched about twenty yards long. He switched off the bike’s engine and walked to the end of the corridor. It ended in a central hub, with several desks covered in papers. There was also some kind of electrical mechanism in this hub. It was attached to several wires, which led back to the anomaly. Above the anomaly, there was a noticeable, small, electrical device, which looked a bit like a laser-gun. It was attached to the ceiling, and pointed straight at the anomaly. The wires from the mechanism led straight to it. Danny could not make out what this mechanism did, but the laser did bear a resemblance to Connor Temple’s anomaly locking device, so he assumed that that was its purpose. The mechanism was, however, active, humming away. It must have been doing something else.

He heard a grunting noise coming from somewhere in the building. Adjacent and to the right of the corridor he had just emerged from, there was a second, longer corridor. It, unlike the hub, was not lit up by electrical lights. He presumed that was where the truck from before had since gone. Seeing as there were no other exits, he assumed that was also the way out.

He heard footsteps coming from up that corridor. He had nowhere to hide, other than beneath one of the desks.

He hid beneath one of the desks.

As they came closer, he heard them talking.

“So that’s the last?” The first voice was a man’s.

“Yes, Professor Skinner, until tomorrow.” The second came from a younger man.

“Good. Rossiter wants us to be there for the grand opening. He wants me to close them all, to stop the storms. They seem to have an effect on the weather,” Skinner replied. “Wait…” The footsteps stopped. “Is that a motorcycle?”

Danny hadn’t had time to hide his bike. The footsteps started again, passed Danny’s table, and marched to the corridor.

This could give Danny just the chance he needed.

“He put this here?” Skinner and his accomplice inspected the bike. Danny quietly crept out from under the table, and tiptoed away. He glanced back, to finally see their faces. Skinner was a man who looked to be in his thirties, with a white coat on. He had thick black hair. His accomplice looked to be not much younger, perhaps late twenties, with blonde hair. He too wore a white coat.

Danny quickly passed around them, and hurried down the darkened corridor.

Behind him, he heard Skinner shout “Close it!”

Danny carried on, until he came to a lightened passage. He was at a crossroads, with two paths splitting off from the original one. Each path was easily wide enough to hold a truck. At the end of the left one, he saw the black Hilux. The men were now hauling the rhino-sized wolf into a containment pen.

Danny suddenly realized where he might be. Could this be the park?

He turned to hide down the opposite path. In here, he saw many cages and containers, with various creatures inside. He saw raptors, and a massive Stegosaurus.

One of the smaller cages was rattling, but as Danny took a closer look, it appeared to be empty.

Then he saw its outline. It started out translucent, but turned grey, and, in some parts, shades of black.

Danny stepped back. It was that gremlin. The toothy horror that had killed his brother.

Danny was breathing heavily. He looked away.

He viewed the containers and cages around him. Perhaps this was where they placed the creatures before being moved to the larger park.

Danny realized that, by sheer dumb luck, he had been transported right where he wanted to go.

Danny jumped as something in the cage behind him roared. He wheeled around to see a strange, dome-headed dinosaur. The rounded skull was surrounded by spikes. And the creature was waving this dome at Danny.

It stepped back, and then rammed the cage bars. They dented slightly with the force of the impact. The dinosaur was pushed backwards, off its feet.

“What was that?” shouted a voice. It was a woman, and came from deeper within this side of this facility. Danny noticed that, beyond the cages, there was what looked like a laboratory through an open door. The woman came out, followed by several other scientists, all in lab coats like Skinner.

“Guards!” she shouted.

Danny ran the other way, straight into the arms of one of the men who had captured the wolf. The man knocked him over the head with the butt of his rifle.

Danny fell.

...

Danny awoke on a bed. He was fully clothed, lying on the covers. His head hurt. He opened his eyes, to see a woman sitting at the side of his bed. She had cropped dark hair.

“Who are you? Where am I?” he asked.

“I’m from the Anomaly Research Centre. You may not know me, my name’s Helen.” She extended her hand for Danny to shake. Danny obliged, and sat himself up on the bed.

“Are you… checking out the park?” Danny asked.

“Danny, it’s our park!” Helen replied, with a smile. “We built this place, so we could show the world our amazing discovery. And so we could research the creatures.”

“What? But… why? How can you contain them?”

“We have extensive containment measures in place. Electrified fencing, concrete in some places, and of course we have perfectly natural environments for them, so they wouldn’t want to escape!”

Danny massaged his temple. “But what about that gremlin? It can turn invisible!”

“Yes, that is a rather fascinating trait, isn’t it? We are researching to see if we can use that sort of ability in our own technology. Isn’t it exciting?”

“But… I’ve…”
“Danny, we know you have been involved with the anomalies before. But how did you get here? Our security cameras show you came through the anomaly. How did you end up in the Oligocene epoch?”

“There was an anomaly, in London. I drove through it. I was in the… ‘Oligocene’, and then I saw your men capturing one of those wolves. I followed them, and I found this anomaly.”

“Interesting. A shortcut from London to here. Danny, could you tell me where that film-set was?”

“Err…” Danny went through his memory. He then listed out the address. “Wait, where’s my bike?”

“Well, Danny, it’s still being tested for disease it may have brought back from the past. Same for your phone. You already have been tested, and cleared.” Helen stood up. “Danny, thank you for your help. This,” she motioned around the room, “is your complimentary Land of Time overnight room. As a gift to one of the ARC’s old allies, you may stay at the park for tonight and the following day, free of charge.”

“I have no American money…”

“That’s OK, there’s some cash on the bedside table.”

“Thanks… what time is it?” Danny asked, looking to the digital clock. It said 4:00pm.

“You were out for quite some time, Danny,” Helen told him. “Have a very good day!” She then left the room.

Helen rang Ketterman.

“Helen?” he answered.

“Ketterman! Why the hell weren’t you picking up before?” Helen asked.

“Sorry, my phone was dead. I had to buy a charger. What is it?”

“Where are you?”

“London. Quinn’s apartment is empty.”

“That’s because Quinn isn’t in London. He’s here.”

“Really? Was that what someone was ringing you about?”

“Yes. He says that he came here through an anomaly. There’s a portal in a film-set in London. It leads to the same place and time as one of our anomalies. It’ll be surrounded by ARC forces, but if you can get through, it’ll provide a short cut here. The address is…” She listed the address that Danny had given her. “Call back when you’re there, so we can open the right anomaly here. Now go find Page.”

Danny returned to his room at 10pm. He had inspected many of the park’s exhibits, including the mammoths, the terror-birds, the raptors and the T-Rex. Not all of them, though – he had yet to see what those ‘mystery creatures’ were. Perhaps he had bitten off a little bit more than he could chew this time. All this created by the ARC. What the hell were they playing at? They were being completely stupid, and arrogant to think they could keep these creatures in.

He lay in his bed, and considered the only constellation. He had got what he’d wanted, a way into the park. But this was the hard part.

It was hard to imagine that an anomaly in a film-set in London led to the same time and place as a controlled anomaly in Land of Time.

****

“Can we go now?” Becker was getting impatient.

“Not until we get word from America,” Lester said.

Becker and his squad were all ready for the two missions.

Lester’s desk intercom buzzed. He pressed the ‘speak’ button.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Sir, it’s the President of the United States, he’s on the line,” said his secretary.

Becker smiled at Lester. Lester picked up the phone. “Yes, Mr. President?”

“Sir James Lester, Operation Peacekeeper is now in effect. You have seven hours to prepare your soldiers, and get them to Florida. They will be briefed there by our Delta Force captain.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

The President then hung up.

Becker looked expectantly at Lester.

“Alright, go.”

Becker led his men down the walkway and to the armory. Four ARC soldiers, led by Becker, grabbed G-36s. They then entered the trucks and drove to the film-set. They were going to go through that anomaly, and find Danny. Wherever he was.

Lieutenant Owen Clarke was put in charge of the larger cohort of ARC soldiers, bound for Florida. Most of them grabbed G-36s, while six soldiers were fitted with a GPMG (General Purpose Machine Gun) for light support, along with Sig Sauer side arms. The squad was then driven to the RAF London base, a mile and a half away from the ARC, in a black SUV with tinted black glass. They didn’t spend much time at the base - after being cleared at the security checkpoint they were immediately sent off to their designated hangar. From there they quickly boarded an RAF Hercules. After that they just had to wait.

Clarke checked his watch. At 0200 hours – 2 a.m. - they left London. They had plenty of time to get to Florida. Lester and Becker had not told them much information – presumably, there wasn’t much information to give. They were just told to expect dangerous predators, including the future predators. Primarily, they just made sure that they received their equipment. Everything else was now down to the RAF pilot taking them to America.

Operation Peacekeeper was now under way.

---------------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty-One

Operation Peacekeeper – Part 1

Connor slowly came to.

He was in some kind of control-room. As he looked around, he saw three of his fellow team-members, tied to chairs. All three were incapacitated. Connor realised that he, like them, was tied to his chair.

He blinked once. It wasn’t a dream.

“Oh, damn... What the...?” Connor looked around the control-room. He saw monitors showing all the techno babble that Connor was too groggy to decipher, and several security monitors showing the visitor and dinosaur sections.

“I must admit, I never expected you to have Malcolm and Grant on your side.”

Connor looked over to where the voice had come from. He now realised that there was another person here, standing to his right. “Malcolm? Grant?” asked Connor.

“Ian Malcolm and Alan Grant,” the man replied. He was tall, and had black hair. “You, on the other hand… I didn’t know who you were, until she told me.”

“Alan Grant?” Connor asked. The name rang a bell. Cutter had once told him about an expert palaeontologist called Alan Grant. “What’s he doing here?”

As they were speaking, Jenny and Abby came to.

“Take them to the interrogation room,” the man called. The door, already slightly ajar, flung open to reveal a unit of uniformed, heavily armed men. Connor counted six. They marched in perfect formation. They untied them from the chairs, and lifted them up. As Connor was being led along, he slowly realised that he recognised these men from somewhere.

“Oh, bollocks…”

XXXX

Up top in the dorm room, Levine was getting ready for the upcoming mission. He pulled out his suitcase and rummaged through it. He pulled out a black jumpsuit. He got into it and zipped up the front, grabbed a holster and attached it to his belt, and he placed in the holster a Beretta 92. Finally, he put a silencer in the left pocket.

His hotel room light was switched off. It was darkest night. He could hear thunder and heavy rain outside. It provided a suitable soundtrack to what was about to go down.

Now he just had to wait for his next orders.

In another hotel room Danny Quinn wasn’t at all prepared. He’d just have to wait till it hit the fan. If it did hit the fan, he would probably go in without thinking that through, either. Quinn tried to relax on his sofa watching some cheesy American sitcom. If it wasn’t for the ad breaks every six minutes he might actually have enjoyed it.

Connor was thrown onto another hard, metal chair. He turned over to face forward, and felt the soldier that had carried him over place handcuffs on his hands, now trapped around the back of the chair. He noticed two other men already in the room, tied to chairs. One had black hair, and the other had grey hair and a beard. Jenny and Abby were similarly thrown down on chairs.

Hemple by now had woken up too, and he struggled as much as he could. He, unlike Connor, Abby and Jenny, was being carried by two men. He kicked one of them in the knee.

The captor stumbled backwards. Hemple was briefly free, and used the opportunity to punch the other enemy soldier in the side of the face. However, two of the other soldiers grabbed him from behind and placed his hands in handcuffs. Hemple clearly wasn’t fully recovered after the effects of the sedative, and couldn’t struggle for long.

Once they had put Hemple in a chair, and re-locked the cuffs around the back, most of them left the room. Two more guarded the door.

The black-haired man spoke. “So, what’s your story?”

“You’re lucky my men caught them, they were bound to get involved,” Helen said, smiling. She observed the six people, who were still restrained. She was watching the security feed from the interrogation room from the comfort of Rossiter’s office. “I think I should have a chat with them.” She left the room without waiting for Rossiter’s answer.

XXXX

All thirty-two Delta Force operatives sat in the large C-130 hangar. Colonel Hopper led in Wing Commander Ellison, Squadron Leader Ennis and Major Powers. They turned to stop and face the platoon of soldiers who stood next to the left side of a large C-130 aircraft.

Hopper cleared his throat, and began. “Now, I know this sounds clichéd but... I’ve got some good and bad news.”

A loud crack of thunder sounded outside the opening of the hangar.

“The good news is we, and all the other divisions, have become entirely new regiments. Top secret regiments. NATO has also given us new call signs based on the Greek alphabet. The titles are Alpha, Beta and Gamma. Alpha still being Powers’ squad, Beta being Harman’s squad and Gamma being Jackson’s squad.

“The bad news is, today’s physical training is going to be full-kit ten-lap runway shuttle runs. Your physical training instructor will be Staff Sergeant Riley; you’ll be updated on further news throughout the day.”

Colonel Hopper left the hangar with Major Powers and the Air Force officers. Staff Sergeant Riley stood in front of the platoon.

“Okay gentlemen, you’ve got twenty minutes to get your combat kit ready, that includes Kevlar armour, helmet, backpack, assault rifles and side arms. Each squad leader should also know who carries the light machine gun.”

Twenty minutes later, the platoon were ready for their physical training. Major Powers looked out the window of Hopper’s office, and observed his platoon.

“When are you going to tell them of NATO’s plan?” Major Powers turned to face Hopper.

“In due time Major…”

XXXX

Levine was woken up by the vibration of his cell phone. Quickly he picked it up and flipped it open. ‘1 new message’. He opened the message. It read: “Operation Peacekeeper initiated. Leave for the main entrance.” His heart started racing with mixed feelings of excitement and fear. This was it. After sixteen years of fakes and false alarms, he was finally right at the forefront of the action! The agent left through his restroom window, which faced an ornamental garden. Oh, this is great! Levine thought to himself as he saw the two story drop. The drain pipe was somewhat flimsy. He was going to have to get down without being noticed...

Back at the holding room, Connor turned to Abby. “Did you see who they were?”

“Ah, I think they can hear you,” the black-haired man said.

Abby answered regardless. “Yeah…”

“They’re all identical!” the bearded man said. “I didn’t realise when they brought us in…”

“OK, what are you people talking about?” the black-haired man said at last.

“Those are the cleaners!” Connor said. “Those identical men! And that means…” He paused.

“What?! It means what?!” the black-haired man said, exasperatedly now.

“It means it’s Helen! Again!”

--------------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty-Two
Operation Peacekeeper – Part 2

Previously…

- Connor was thrown onto another hard, metal chair. He turned over to face forward, and felt the soldier that had carried him over place handcuffs on his hands, now trapped around the back of the chair. He noticed two other men already in the room, tied to chairs. One had black hair, and the other had grey hair and a beard. Jenny and Abby were similarly thrown down on chairs.
Once they had put Hemple in a chair, and re-locked the cuffs around the back, most of them left the room. Two more guarded the door.
"Those are the cleaners!" Connor said. "Those identical men! And that means…" He paused.
"What? It means what?" the black-haired man said, exasperatedly now.
"It means it's Helen! Again!"-
Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning. – Winston Churchill, following the Battle of El Alamein.
Grant felt totally in the dark. These strangers were talking about identical men, and a mysterious woman called 'Helen'. As if cloned dinosaurs weren't strange enough…
"Who's Helen?" he asked.
"Helen Cutter. Cutter's ex-wife," the young man with the waistcoat informed him.
"That doesn't really help me understand…" Grant replied.
"Excuse me, can someone please inform us what exactly is going on?" Malcolm interrupted.
"Listen, you're better off not knowing," the dark-haired woman answered.
"I respectfully disagree," Malcolm said.
"Look, who are you two?" the dark-haired woman asked, her question directed at Grant and Malcolm. "And how did you end up in this interrogation room?"
Malcolm spoke first. "I'm Ian Malcolm. I was just here to see if the hype was worth it, and then give Rossiter the low-down of how everything will go wrong."
"I'm Grant, and…" Grant smiled, "I'm just trying to offer my own unique experience!" He realized how profoundly ridiculous this whole situation was.
"Right…" the waistcoat-clad man said. "Well, I'm Connor, and this is Abby, and Jenny, and Hemple."
"OK, well, can anyone tell me why you're speaking freely and openly when those security guards over there are just waiting for us to spill our secrets?" Malcolm asked.
"They're not quite human, actually…" Connor answered.
"Oh, this just gets better!"
The door opened. A woman with dark, cropped hair stepped through. The four British people – at least, two of them were British, by their accents – looked up at her with faces of pure hatred. Was this the Helen?
"Where are my men?" the man named Hemple demanded.
"Oh, they're safe. For now," the woman replied.
"OK, if you're quite finished spouting clichéd villain lines," Malcolm said, "I'm assuming you're the woman who's behind this? 'Helen'?"
"Well, I have played a part, yes," she said.
"Then I hope you can clear something up for us. How is it that you're able to predict the evolution of future creatures?" Malcolm quoted the tour guide.
Helen took a seat by the door.
"Time travel."
Malcolm seemed uncharacteristically stuck for words.
"Excuse me?"

Six months ago…
Four Cleaners entered an anomaly. Only armed with tranquiliser rifles and a net gun, they were not very prepared. But they did not care.
They proceeded into a thick rainforest. As they went farther into the jungle, they kept their eyes and ears peeled.
Then, they stopped.
They heard a rustling in the bushes.
Then, silence.
In a matter of seconds, all hell broke loose. One of the four Cleaners was taken down by a Future Predator. A second Cleaner immediately whipped out a type of pistol. He quickly and without hesitation squeezed the trigger. The Predator let go of the corpse of the first Cleaner and started howling in pain. The pistol emitted a loud, high-pitched sound of some sort, much like a dog whistle, something the cleaners could barely hear, but the Future Predators could pick up very easily. Two Cleaners fired their tranquiliser rifles into the Future Predator, knocking it out. Just one would not have done the job. Another Cleaner fired a steel wire net onto the creature. Within minutes they had loaded the creature into a strong iron cage, with a colour coded lock, and pulled it back through the anomaly.

"So... You time-travel... Makes perfect sense." Malcolm was confused, and sceptical, but managed to keep a straight expression. "But how? That breaks… so many rules of physics! She's got to be mad."
Grant and Malcolm looked at the mysterious British people. They looked at the floor. Connor cleared his throat. "Well... You see, it all started in the Forest of Dean-"
Malcolm interrupted. "You can tell me later. I mean, I… I don't understand… So you capture creatures from the future and pass them off to the public as a prediction of what evolution will bring out millions of years from now, right?" Malcolm dearly hoped this was a joke.
"Well done, Dr. Malcolm," said Helen.
"So that's his name!" Connor called. "Err, sorry…"
"I'm Grant, by the way," Grant said.
"But how do you know that your presence in the future, and taking these creatures back, won't affect the future you've been to, and prevent it from ever happening?" Malcolm asked. "That triggers a paradox!"
"Well, the future is in flux. So, far the changes we have performed, whether accidental or… otherwise… have not wiped the creatures from existence." Helen stood up. "But in any case, I have a hectic schedule. This chat was very nice, but I have work to do. Just remember that it's seven digits."
And with that, she left.
"What the hell was that supposed to mean?" Malcolm was starting to get sick of all these secrets. "And why the hell did you even bother coming in?" he called after her.
Helen looked to six of her clones. These were the only ones stationed in the bunker. The rest were positioned all over the park – mainly to keep an eye on things, and make sure things remained calm. But some of them even BioSyn didn't know about.
She spoke specifically to two of them.
"The man in room number 26 is a threat. Ketterman tells me he is working with the US government. His name is Richard Levine. Take him here."
The cleaners did as they were told.
She then spoke to two of the others.
"I want you to stay outside Danny Quinn's room. He is in room number 36. Make sure he doesn't leave. If he does leave, tranquilize him, and take him here. If anyone comes to his door, tranquilize them, and take them here. Go."
The cleaners were dispatched. The electricity in Quinn's room was switched off, in case he tried anything clever. And she couldn't let anyone try to contact him, in case that was just another part of the ARC's plan.
The agent's climb down from the hotel was not easy, especially since the storm drain pipe was slippery from the rain, and the tropical weather sent shivers down his spine. He started reminiscing about an incident that had happened thirteen years ago... Snap out of it! There were far more important things to do, like getting to that entrance without running into trouble.
He dismounted the pipe, and turned to make a run for the gate.
Then in a split second Levine was slammed in the back of the head, and collapsed onto the mud. Everything faded into darkness.
XXXX
Two Cleaners dragged a mysterious man into the interrogation room and sat him at a chair, and tied him up like the others.
"It's that guy who was following us!" Jenny pointed out.
Now that he got a closer look at him, and the man was no longer wearing sunglasses or a cap, Connor realized he recognized the man. "Hey, that's Richard Levine! He's a palaeontologist." Cutter had told him about Levine.
"Oh, you're kidding!" Malcolm shifted his chair to get a closer look. "Oh, for the love of God! That's the palaeontologist?"
"You know him?" asked Connor.
"It's that little bastard… We've crossed paths before," Malcolm explained.
"Hey guys, I don't suppose he was on our side?" Connor felt a tad embarrassed.
"Well, the way he was following us around he looked like he was an assassin!" Jenny replied. "You know what, never mind. We have to find a way out of here. He might be able to help, when he wakes up."
"Unlikely!" Malcolm said.
XXXX
"One of the gremlins has escaped!"
The guide spoke into his walkie. There was a hole in the gremlins' fence. It could be anywhere by now.
Something landed on top of him, and pushed him to the ground. He couldn't get up. All he could do was feel it disembowelling him.
Danny was shaken out of his slumber by a particularly loud clap of thunder. He looked around. He must have fallen asleep on the sofa.
Truth be told, this sort of thing was a recurring dream by now. He wiped a cold sweat off his forehead. At the moment, sleep succeeded only in tiring him more.
That's not right... Danny sat up and checked his lamp. It was turned off. He checked the plug socket. It was switched on. He flicked it twice - maybe the bulb was dead? He walked into the bathroom and flicked the switch there. Nothing. Oh, I have a bad feeling about this...
There was a wrapping at the door. Danny looked around. It was hard to see when everything was almost pitch black. "Coming!" Danny finally reached the door, and opened it.
"Hello sir, we're going around the occupied rooms making sure our guests are alright." It was one of the private contractors, a red-haired man in a pinstripe suit and blue tie, whom Danny had seen earlier. "It seems that we've had a power-out in a few of the rooms around here. And... Uh... We would like for you to stay –"
Danny interrupted. "It's alright, I'm calm, thanks for filling me in."
"Okay sir, we just need your name and signature here –" the contractor was quickly silenced with a dart to the neck.
As the body fell a heavy-set man in dark clothing came round the corner, and aimed his pistol at Danny.
Quinn acted quickly and kicked him in the stomach. The man fell back to the wall. Then Danny scarpered.
Another Cleaner came out of the room next to Danny's. He fired several shots, but Danny was gone. The first Cleaner got up, and the identical pair walked autonomously toward where Danny had run.
They approached the staircase and both looked out the window. As they could see, Danny was approaching a sandy enclosure. The Silurian Scorpion pit. If they didn't get him, the scorpions would. The Cleaners, though, could not comprehend this. Their orders were to take Danny Quinn to the bunker. They jumped out of the window landing on their feet perfectly. They had no regard for the height – after all, their genetic enhancements made them do what no ordinary human was capable of doing. They moved across the opening, keeping an eye out for any of the creatures.
The pair immediately stopped as they heard Helen's voice over their walkies.
"What's happening?" she asked.
"Target Danny Quinn has left room. We are pursuing on foot. Target Danny Quinn is approaching Silurian Scorpion pit," the Cleaner answered.
"OK. Number One, catch him before he gets there. Number Two, return to bunker," she ordered. The speaker dutifully continued on, while the second cleaner returned to Helen.
Quinn ran into the darkened enclosure and shut the door behind him. He took time to stop and think about what had just happened. Okay... Two guys came in to the hotel – at least, the second set of gunfire suggested a second man - and started shooting. Why? Does the ARC really want to kill me? Before he could come to a conclusion, if one was possible, the entrance to the exhibit opened. Danny stayed concealed in the darkness as just one of the men walked in. He looked over into the pit.
This is your chance, Danny said to himself. He charged at the Cleaner and punched him hard in the back. He then grabbed him around the right arm. The cleaner reacted by throwing Danny downwards, causing them to topple into the pit together with a loud thud. The metal beam fell shortly afterwards, having been dislodged by their tussle.
In the left corner of the pit, unbeknownst to both men, the sand dipped a few inches. It then continued to do so – in their direction.
Quinn and the man exchanged punches. Just as Danny was about to deal a finishing blow, his opponent kicked him to the floor.
Suddenly, an explosion of sand engulfed Quinn's nemesis. As the sand settled, Danny saw that he was in the pincers of the Silurian whip scorpion he'd seen in one of the hotel's brochures. Of all the supposedly prehistoric creatures, this one had seemed the most alien.
In his panic the man fired several more shots from his rifle, disturbing the sand again. A second scorpion burst out from the sand, and entered into a tug of war over him. Danny made his escape before it got ugly. Danny reached for the inclined steel bar and pulled himself up.
As he freed himself from the pit he looked back. The nameless man was just screaming in pain, not for help, as he was slowly being split in two. The scorpion on the right had a grip of his pelvis, while the one on the left had a grip of his torso. In a matter of seconds he was torn in half. Then the scorpions fought over his remains.
Danny went pale. He quickly ran out, and threw up onto the grass.
Then he heard a now all-too-familiar creaking sound. One of the scorpions had followed him out. He had no choice but to hide. As he concealed himself behind one of the ornamental bushes, the scorpion stood still, and then lumbered off in the other direction.
He was about to follow, but then he thought. He couldn't face it by himself.
It was a painful thought, but perhaps collaboration with the enemy was the only choice now.
He could at least delay the decision. He first had to return to the hotel and get the other visitors out of there. It was two in the morning, so that was where all of them would be.
XXXX
It's hard to sleep when you know that what's ahead may be the biggest fight of your life.
Luckily for Clarke and his squad their intense pre-joining training, for the ARC, had taught them to be calm in situations like this. Still, Clarke was having trouble. They were in the RAF chopper, over the mid-Atlantic. Their assault vests were thick with outer pockets to hold G-36 and Sig Sauer ammunition. Fortunately for the light support team they carried a large camouflage satchel with two FN Minimi cartridges.
"We should be there by nine a.m. Eastern Time. I'll tell you all when we're about to arrive at the Everglades Air Force Base, alright?"
There was no reply. The others were all asleep.
XXXX
"Helen, is all this really necessary?" Rossiter asked. He was uncomfortable with the situation.
"Howard, trust me. This is all in the better interests of science. They'll thank us later," she reassured him. "You look exhausted. I mean, look at the time! You need to rest."
"I'll just sleep in my office for tonight," he replied.
"No, I insist. I will hold the fort."
"OK," Rossiter finally replied. He left the office, and went to his bedroom, down the corridor.
XXXX
The rotors of the Chinook transport helicopter chopped through the rain. Green flares were popped to mark the position of the soldiers. This was Private Stone's first time having a Chinook fly right over him. The giant helicopter landed at least thirty feet away from the Private. As soon as it landed, out of nowhere the entire platoon popped out from the undergrowth of the Everglades forest. The platoon charged into the forest opening
"Come on get your ass moving!" Corporal Sanderson grabbed Stone by his right arm and swung him round. Adrenaline pumped through him. If this is what Operation Peacekeeper is going to be like… Well damn! Glad I'm with this unit! Stone couldn't remove the huge grin he had on his face.
All thirty-two troops ran into the fuselage of the helicopter in a straight line by two ranks. A Lieutenant from the 1st Cavalry counted the troops going in. Stone was the last one to get in. The ramp on the helicopter raised shut, and in less than thirty seconds they were off the ground, being flown back to base.
The Deltas stood in three ranks on the runway, outside the command office. The rain didn't let up, and every now and then one of them jolted from a crack of thunder.
Colonel Hopper stepped out of the office, dressed in wet proof combats. He walked to the front of the platoon.
"Well done gentlemen, you can all have your rest. Tomorrow afternoon you'll be on the ranges with the 1st Cavalry platoon."
Hopper scanned the platoon. "That is all gentlemen, dismissed."

--------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty-Three
The Beginning of the End

Previously…
- Danny had quit the police force in order to pursue the anomalies more, and had followed some nosy journalists to the airport. Though he played a big part in preventing catastrophe on that occasion, he was nearly arrested, and had to scarper. Since then, no anomalies – although, the anomaly detector he'd swiped from them might just come in handy…
Danny got out of his bed and walked over to his wardrobe. He opened it to reveal a safe. He then entered the code. Inside, he pulled out the detector. It was making a strange, very faint sound, and the compass-like arrow was wobbling. -

It's often safer to be in chains than to be free. – Franz Kafka
The guards had fallen asleep. Ketterman could hardly blame them, it was midnight. Hopefully this would be quick and quiet.
Ketterman slipped headphones and sunglasses over the guards' heads. He then walked over to the locker. Ketterman knew the technology. Helen had shown it to him before. She must have borrowed it from the ARC.
He set it on a timer. It unlocked the anomaly, but the timer would run out in a minute's time. He took the headphones and sunglasses off the guards' heads. Hopefully, when the anomaly-locking woke them up again, they would think it was just a dream. Ketterman lifted Page's body, and walked straight through the anomaly. Not long after he reached the other side, the anomaly re-stabilized. They would never notice he had been there.
…
It was about 2:30 a.m. The cloudy sky was pitch-black, but the anomaly provided enough light to allow Becker's men to organize things for the rescue-mission.
Becker had a small squad of four. This was all Lester had afforded him, but hopefully it should be enough. They were Private Bill Jenson, Sergeant Christian Hawkins, Sergeant Jodie Rogers and Corporal Lee Briggs. They were all young, in their late teens or early twenties. They bore carbines and assault rifles.
"Is everything ready?" Becker called. The soldiers nodded. They'd waited long enough, and Lester hadn't given him much time.
"Jenson, unlock it!" Becker called. Jenson did so.
Becker took a look at the anomaly detector. The arrow was pointing straight ahead, and the signal was strong. This was the same detector he'd confiscated from Quinn.
Becker took a deep breath. This was his time going through an anomaly. Then, he led the march to the other side. Briggs and Rogers followed close behind. Jenson unplugged the locker, and with Hawkins' help he lifted the piece of equipment through.
Once they were through, Jenson and Hawkins reassembled the locker, and activated it. The anomaly returned to its spherical state.
"Come on!" Becker called. The soldiers took the locker up again, and moved on. Becker's squad wasn't big enough to leave people behind to guard the locker. Becker put on his night-vision goggles, and they set out into the ancient night.
XXXX
There really was no time to lose. Danny sprinted back to the hotel, with the knowledge that it had already started to go wrong. One of the giant scorpions was out. He needed to get the civilians to safety. This was practically a warzone now.
He arrived at the lodge. It was locked. He kicked the door down. It wasn't very well-reinforced – they'd been a bit over-confident there.
Almost immediately, someone pointed a rifle at his head.
"Who are you?" the man demanded. He was rather tall, maybe six foot four, and seemed rather muscular. He had thick, dark hair, which had a hint of grey in a few places. He was clean-shaven. He wore a khaki keeper's uniform.
Danny raised his hands over his head. "Danny Quinn. I'm staying here. Room 36. Check your records. Ask Helen."
"Helen who?" the man asked.
"The woman in charge! I think…"
The man looked confused. "How do you know…" He cleared his throat. "Howard Rossiter is in charge of this park. And I'm head keeper."
"Then what are you doing here?" Danny asked.
"A creature has escaped. One of the scorpions. We're on red alert. I'm about to switch shifts with someone else, so that I can be more of a help."
"Right… well, I really don't know how it got out, so if you'd allow me to…"
"You have sand on your clothes."
Danny looked down. He hadn't noticed in the dark. The keeper was right.
"What's going on?" a female voice came from behind Danny, outside the lodge.
"This man appears to have been involved in the scorpion breakout," the head-keeper replied.
"What?" The woman, presumably the head-keeper's replacement, had now entered the lodge. She was rather short, maybe five and half feet, and had long, blonde hair, and wore the same keeper's uniform.
"I'm taking him down to the base. I'll join in the search when I get back."
"OK. Just watch your back, Gary," the other keeper said.
"Thanks." He turned to Danny. "Get walking."
"This is a waste of time!" Danny said. But he still started walking, with that rifle pointed at his head. "How far away is your base?"
"OK, now we're getting somewhere!"
Malcolm, Jenny and Hemple were sat, handcuffed to their chairs, in the interrogation room. Connor, Abby and Grant had fallen asleep, and Levine hadn't woken up yet. Jenny and Hemple were bringing Malcolm up-to-date with their 'anomaly operation'.
"So," Malcolm continued, "Helen Cutter disappeared nine years ago, and started travelling through time for the rest of her life. Then, a year ago, you people discover rips in time and start to investigate them. You build an Anomaly Research Centre to study them, and watch out for any new anomalies. And that's how you ended up here. Right?"
"That's a very condensed version of it, yes," Jenny replied. "So, what happened in this 'Nublar incident'?"
"A well-meaning but foolish man called John Hammond built a park full of genetically-modified creatures, and they, predictably, escaped. Oh, and then there was Isla Sorna, that was even worse! So, that Helen woman, why did she just tell me what was going on here? She just went out and told me about her time-travel. I didn't even have to pry. After telling all the guests and the media they've been cloning the dinosaurs, why did she just tell me?"
"Trying to predict the actions of Helen Cutter is rather pointless, I find," Jenny replied.
"Who's Helen?"
The voice did not belong to Malcolm, Jenny or Hemple. Malcolm recognized it faintly. It had been a long time since he'd heard it.
"Richard Levine!" he said.
The jumpsuit-clad man had woken up. "Doctor Malcolm? What are you doing here?" He still seemed quite drowsy.
"I could ask you the same thing!" Malcolm replied.
"I'm with the US army," Levine said.
"No you're not."
"I am." He started to get up. "Operation Peacekeeper. Colonel Hopper."
"OK, you're clearly still delusional after the sedative, so I'm just going to let you wake up properly before finding out what you think you're doing here."
"You two have history then?" Hemple said.
"I guess you could call it that…" Malcolm said.
There was a clicking sound. "What was that?" Malcolm noticed that his wrists felt surprisingly light. He lifted his hands to see the cuffs hanging off his right hand, undone. Malcolm noticed for the first time that there was a small aerial sticking out of them.
Malcolm looked to Jenny, Hemple and Levine. Their cuffs were also undone.
"Just when I thought I understood what was going on…" Malcolm said.
Jenny stood up, and walked over the Abby and Connor. "Their cuffs are unlocked too…" Abby and Grant lifted their heads. The activity must have woken them up. Connor was still fast asleep. Jenny clicked her fingers beside Connor's ear.
"Ah!" Connor called, as we too woke up. "What's going on?"
"This!" Jenny said, with his cuffs suspended from her finger.
"Oh… Sorry, what's going on?"
"Who let us out?" Abby asked.
"We don't know," Hemple answered. He stood up and walked over to the door, pulled the handle down, and pushed. To Malcolm's surprise, the door yielded. "It's open…" Hemple whispered. "It's open!"
"What?" Jenny said.
"OK… Either this means someone's letting us go, or it's a trick," Malcolm said.
"Either way, I really think we'd be better off getting out…" Connor said, standing up. He walked over to the door to catch up with Hemple.
"Agreed." Malcolm quickly followed. He, Connor and Hemple were the first to leave the room, but they were soon followed reluctantly by the others. Levine was helped up by Grant.
"Do any of you know the way out?" Connor asked Malcolm, Grant and Levine.
"Yeah," Malcolm confirmed, "but we need to go somewhere else first.
"Where's that?"
…
Howard stretched his arms. It was very early in the morning, but he couldn't sleep. He decided to go outside for some fresh air.
As he stepped out onto ground level, he could see a terrible storm raging outside. He ran over to open the doors. Thunder clapped and rain poured down. The storm had returned.
Obviously this storm must have been a natural one. Earlier on, he'd ordered the anomalies to be shut to avoid any bad weather interfering with the park's opening day. They'd discovered some time ago that anomalies could affect the weather, and cause bad storms.
He decided to return to his office, and check up on things. He mulled over the first day of the park. Overall, it had gone well. Admittedly, the lack of support from Malcolm, Grant and the ARC team had lowered his spirits, and he was uncomfortable about keeping them captive, but in the long run they didn't matter. Not in the big picture. The ends justify the means. The Roman poet Ovid said that. And the big picture is what really matters.
Rossiter re-entered his office. Helen was nowhere to be seen - perhaps she had other business to attend to. Rossiter sat down on his leather chair. He lit a pipe and sat back. He might replace the Kelenken. They were scaring the visitors. The megamyotids were almost a certainty; they'd have to go for the same reason. And if the mammoths didn't stop overheating, he would have to replace them with a hairless variety. As long as the integrity of the park remained, that was what mattered. Perhaps he might put in some human ancestors. The human rights nuts could be silenced easily.
He looked over to the monitors, to check on the prisoners. But there was no-one in the interrogation room.
Rossiter dropped his pipe.
There came a knock on the door.
Rossiter started to panic. He fumbled beneath his desk. It's in here somewhere… Oh God, where is it?
He finally found it. His trusty silver revolver, with ivory grips.
The knock repeated. Rossiter raised the revolver up to the door. His hand was shaking slightly. He'd never had to use it before.
The door was smashed down. Jeff glided off his perch. Captain Jake Hemple stepped into the room.
Hemple ran over to Rossiter and confiscated the revolver before Howard's shaking fingers could fire.
"Nice gun," said the soldier in a slightly patronizing way. As the other six ex-prisoners entered Rossiter's office, he said: "Rossiter, I think we need a word. About shutting down this park."

"You can't shut down my park. I won't allow it," Rossiter told them. "I'm not telling you anything."
Hemple raised the revolver to Rossiter's neck, and took off the safety. "You sure about that?"
"We're not killing anyone!" Jenny said, and pushed the revolver down. "We only just got here."
"OK, let's start with something more… humanitarian. Where are you holding my men?"
Rossiter certainly didn't want more armed men in the room, but Miss Lewis was less likely to hold back Hemple's trigger finger this time. He decided to formulate a plan. "They're on the floor below us. I don't know which room they're being kept in. Helen put them there."
"Wouldn't there be a locked door or something between floors?"
"Actually, you're all already in a high security zone."
"OK." He turned from Rossiter's desk and marched to the door. He turned to Levine.
"You, US military guy! Can you handle a firearm?"
"Yeah," he replied.
"Good, you're coming with me. I'll need back-up."
"Sure. Do I get a gun?"
"You'll get one when I find one," Hemple replied. He left the office with the silver revolver, and Levine in tow.
"Yeah, take him, that'll end really well!" Malcolm said.
Hemple's men were there, yes, but so were Helen's men. The floor below them was permanently guarded by two of them. They were unlikely to have moved. Now, there were no firearms in the room, and the only two militarily-trained people had left. Rossiter's chances now looked slightly better.
Grant seemed to take over the questioning from Hemple. "So, Mister Rossiter," he started to walk towards Rossiter's desk, "I actually have a few questions too."
"Wait," Rossiter said. "Just remember. We can use these creatures to help people, educate people. And I will never be made to believe otherwise."
"That's a pity," Grant replied.
"What's this?" came a voice to Rossiter's right. He was having difficulty keeping track of all the people who had invaded his workspace. He turned to see Abby Maitland admiring Jeff, now slowly being coaxed out from underneath the desk.
Connor Temple came down to her level, and crouched beside the desk. "Microraptor gui. Like a bird, only with four wings."
Rossiter turned back to Grant. "I'll be happy to discuss our findings with you Professor. But I still insist on maintaining some level of security. I'll never give you the security information."
"Yeah, but I can get it," Connor said.
"Connor, what do you mean?" Jenny asked.
"The computer!" he said, pointing to the computer on the left side of Rossiter's desk. "That's bound to tell us everything we need to know."
"No!" Rossiter called, as Connor ran around his desk and leant over the computer, switching it on. Rossiter tried to push Connor away from the keyboard. The young man was not as athletic as Rossiter, and was not a difficult opponent. Temple was shoved off his feet and onto the floor.
Triumphantly, Howard Rossiter rose above the scene. "You people are never going to close down this park! You have no weapons, no soldiers, nothing! I'm just going to call for security now," he pulled his phone out of his pocket, "and there's nothing any of you can do to stop me."
He felt a blow to the head, and fell to the floor, unconscious.
…
"Nice kick!" said Connor.
"Thanks," replied Abby. "Now get on that computer, yeah?"
"Right!" He returned to the computer. "I'm gonna try and access the system controls. That might get us somewhere…" The computer bleeped. "Damn, there's a password!"
"Any ideas?" Jenny asked.
"Err… I might be able to get around it… Let me see…" He tapped away at the keyboard. Abby couldn't see what he was doing from her vantage point, lifting an unconscious Rossiter off the ground and onto the nearby couch. Grant rushed over and helped her up with it.
"Thanks," she said.
"Of course," he replied.
"So, I believe I was asleep when Jenny, Hemple and Doctor Malcolm were sorting things out?"
"Yeah. I'm Alan Grant, and my friend over there is Doctor Ian Malcolm. So, you people investigate wormholes in… time?"
"Yeah," she put Rossiter's torso down on the couch. "When you put it like that, it sounds positively relaxing!"
Grant let go of the sleeping man too. "Heh, I guess so. So, what is that creature over there?"
"That is a…" she started.
"Microraptor gui," Connor answered, still tapping away at the keyboard.
"Yeah, that," Abby said.
Grant stepped over and crouched down at the bird-like creature. "Oh, of course, I recognize it now. It's one of those recent discoveries from China. Four wings!" He grinned at it.
"Doctor Grant?" A voice came from outside the office. It was clearly not Hemple, Levine or any of Hemple's men, but Abby couldn't make out who it was.
Malcolm seemed to recognize him, though. "Campbell?" he called. "What are you doing here?"
"There's been a breakout in one of the enclosures. One of the scorpions is out. The other is contained, fortunately. And I believe I have arrested the culprit."
A man stepped into view from the right corridor.
"Oh, for God's sake!" Jenny shouted. "Danny Quinn!"
DI Quinn was pushed into the office at the barrel of Campbell's rifle. The keeper followed close behind. "Do you know this man?" Campbell asked.
"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" Jenny asked.
"What are you doing here?" Danny said. He didn't seem to be quite as cheerful as the other times they'd met. In fact, he seemed ready to punch one of them, and probably would have if it hadn't been for the gun pointed at him.
"Investigating this abomination of a park on behalf of the British government," Jenny told him.
"What? I thought you were with the ARC?" Danny asked. He stepped towards them.
"Stay where you are," Campbell said. He turned to Grant and Malcolm. "This man was running away from the scorpion enclosure in the middle of the night, and he has sand on his clothes. And the scorpions are out now."
"Now, you know as well as I that something like that was inevitable anyway," Grant said.
"OK, what's going on?" Connor asked.
"Keep typing, please!" Malcolm told him.
"We are the ARC," Jenny said to Danny. "Well, with the exception of Doctor Malcolm and Professor Grant, but they're on our side."
"Actually I'm a doctor," said Grant, "but they're more or less the same thing."
"But… that doesn't make sense!" Danny said, ignoring Grant's remark.
"What? A billionaire genetics company creates a park full of dinosaurs, the anomaly research centre find out and send in a team to investigate. I'm not quite sure where the confusion arises."
"But Helen said this was an ARC project!"
"Ah," Jenny said. "The confusion often arises with her. I'm afraid you have been lied to, Danny. Helen Cutter is not, never has been, and never will be, on the ARC's side. This is all her doing. Although, BioSyn did play a part…"
"Why is Rossiter unconscious?" Campbell asked. He didn't seem overly concerned.
"He was withholding information," Connor replied.
"Right," Danny said. "Sorry, there seems to have been a massive misunderstanding here."
"You mean between us, or nationwide?" Malcolm said. "How far are you, Temple?"
"I think I'm nearly there…" he said. "Yes!"
"Did you get the password?" Jenny asked.
"Nope, but I did find out how many characters are in it! Seven numbers. Or letters. Or a combination of both of them."
"Thanks, that really narrows it down," Malcolm said.
"It really does!"
"Wait… I think I have an idea…" Danny said.

Now more awake, Danny got out of his bed and walked over to his wardrobe. He opened it to reveal a safe. He then entered the code – 6259266. Inside, he pulled out the detector.

"Try this. Two-Six-Six-Six-Two-Five-Nine."
Connor did as he was told. "It worked! I'm in!"
"How did you get it?" Jenny asked.
Danny turned back to Campbell. "I think you can take that down, now."
Campbell turned to Malcolm and Grant. They nodded. He obliged.
"Has anyone got a mobile phone on them?" Danny asked.
"What? Why?" Jenny asked.
"Do you have one?"
"No, they were all taken!"
"I left mine at the lodge," said Campbell.
"Rossiter does, though…" Malcolm said, grabbing the phone Rossiter had dropped earlier. "Would this work?"
"Cheers," Danny said. Malcolm passed it to him, and he opened it, and started pressing buttons.
"Look, are you going to tell us or not?" Jenny asked.
Danny stopped and looked up at her. He threw the phone at her. She caught it. "Open it. Go to 'create new message', turn on predictive. Then type in the numbers Two-Six-Six-Six-Two-Five-Nine."
Jenny did as she was told. Then her expression changed to one of surprise.
"What does it say?" Danny asked.
"ANOMALY".

Connor wasn't paying much attention to what the others were saying. He was busy hacking. He loved hacking.
"I'm nearly finished with Rossiter's keycard!" he said.
"Excuse me?" Grant said.
"Oh, yeah, I forgot. This kind of system needs two different keycards inserted at the same time to access it. One of them is Rossiter's, the other one must be Helen's. But it doesn't seem to be too sophisticated, so I'm trying to get around them."
"But, surely Rossiter's keycard is around here somewhere?" Grant asked.
"No need! I'm through. Rossiter's keycard is no longer necessary. Now I just need to disable Helen's keycard, and we're in!"
"So, how the hell did you know about the whole 266 code?" Jenny asked Danny.
"It's the code for my safe at home," he said. "Back to front though – I'm a little superstitious about three sixes in a row. I'll probably change it now. So, which was your favorite animal? The T-Rex? The raptors? The invisible gremlins?"
"I'm afraid we didn't get quite as far as the gremlins…" Jenny said.
Suddenly, there was a deafening bang. The lights went out. The power was gone. For a moment, it was eerily silent.
Connor was the first to speak. "Oh no! The computer's gone! Dammit! Was that some kind of failsafe?"
"Oh, my God…" came another voice. Rossiter must have woken up.
There was a whirring noise, and slowly, the low-power emergency lights came on. They cast a slightly greenish glow on the office.
Rossiter spoke again. "We're all going to die!"
XXXX
The trees bent with the force of the howling wind. The thunder clapped, and the rain poured. The main trackway was now a muddy torrent. But, Keeper Mueller had to brave the elements. The scorpion had gone this way.
She drove the landrover down this dangerous road. It was sloping downwards, towards the restaurant at the centre of the park. It was closed, so this was fortunately the most depopulated area of the park.
She hadn't even got a chance to tell the others about her discovery – this was too urgent. It would wait.
Something wasn't right. Sandra couldn't put her finger on it, but she had patrolled this park for many months before the opening. Now, there was something missing.
Lightning struck a tree just ahead of her. The fiery palm creaked over and smashed onto the road. She swerved, and narrowly missed it. She didn't stop, and she just kept on driving to her destination.
Going ever downwards, she found it harder and harder to control the vehicle. The water current was practically doubling the jeep's speed.
The ground finally leveled out. Mueller breathed a sigh of relief as she slowly regained control of the car.
She saw something sprint right in front of the car's headlights. She swerved left to avoid it. The wheels slipped, and she crashed right through the roadside barriers. She was heading right for the electrified fence. She screamed.
The jeep crashed into the fence, and the airbags deployed. Mueller was still conscious, but was cut and bruised. But why hadn't she been electrocuted?
Then she noticed what had been different earlier. The familiar, very faint hum of the fences was absent. She looked up at one of the poles. The usually flashing lights were off. And the very high-pitched screech of the avoidance beacons, mounted high above her head, was no longer sounding.
She gulped. Which enclosure is this?
She heard a hissing noise to her right. She slowly turned her head around.
She couldn't even see it in the dark, but she already knew what it was. It called out, and several more calls were returned. They were all close.
She tried to get out of the car, but the seatbelt stopped her. She couldn't reach the buckle; it was trapped underneath a twisted piece of metal beside the seat. She tried to reach for her knife. It was in the glove compartment, beneath the airbag. She struggled around the bag. Eventually, she opened the compartment lid, and several things fell out. She felt the sheath of her knife slip through her fingers and onto the floor. She reached down for it. She could barely reach with the combined trap of the airbag and the seatbelt, and she could barely see in the darkness. She fumbled around on the floor for it. It was down there somewhere.
The creature to her right clambered into the car. She had nowhere to run.
At least it would be over quickly.

---------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty-Four
The Facility

"What the hell is going on?" shouted Skinner.
David Ketterman, one of Helen Cutter's hired hands, had just lumbered through the facility portal, from the Oligocene, carrying an unconscious woman over his back. He laid her down on Skinner's anomaly-side desk, tossing notes to the floor in the process.
"Watch those!" Skinner said. He bent down to clear them up.
Ketterman sat down on Skinner's chair. "I found this girl on the other side of the anomaly. I don't know what she was doing there, but I couldn't just leave her."
Skinner placed the piled notes back on the table. He then grabbed a new pair of plastic gloves from a wall-mounted dispenser, and examined the unconscious woman. "Is she injured?"
"Not that I could see. Although, she has been asleep the whole time I've been with her. That doesn't seem quite normal."
"I can't see any skin injuries, but I'll have to take a closer look. And I'm going to have to quarantine her. God knows how long she was out there." He walked over to the console and locked the anomaly. He then turned back to Ketterman. "Why were you out there?"
"Sightseeing," he said with a wry smile. "Nah, I was in London and needed a quick way back here. Seems there was another anomaly to the same location in the British capital. The anomaly research centre there has it under control."
"So, I'm assuming you're the reason Helen wanted me to open the anomaly?" Skinner asked.
"Guilty as charged."
"Well, seeing as you didn't get disinfected and treated before going through, you're going to have to be quarantined like her."
"I was only in there for an hour, at the most. Just give me the pill, and I'll be fine."
Skinner sighed. "The pill isn't foolproof. God knows, we don't want another DX. If we were to take some modern bacterium or virus to a prehistoric era, the creatures there wouldn't be at all prepared for it. It could cause a mass extinction, and change the past, even wipe out our own ancestors."
"I washed my hands!"
"Fine." He opened one of the desk drawers and searched through it, eventually finding a packet of pink pills. These pills could wipe out any unfamiliar bacteria in the system, if given soon enough after exposure to the prehistoric or future environment, and the person didn't spend very long there. Of course, these weren't fully effective, and that was why trips to the past were infrequent. He took out two pills and threw them to Ketterman, and he swallowed them.
"Thanks," he said, before getting up and walking out.
"Where are you going?" Skinner called after him.
"To get a drink! You may want to call Helen about this." With that, he left the facility.
Skinner sighed again. "Harper!" He called one of his fellow scientists. Kenneth Harper came rushing down the corridor. "Sir?"
"Ketterman has found someone…"
XXXX
"Sir, there's something up with the detector."
Becker walked over to join Sergeant Rogers as she gazed at the detector. The arrow was unstable. It was sliding back and forth between two points. One of these points was pointing back to where they had just come, and was obviously that anomaly. But the other direction the arrow was sliding to was somewhere ahead of them. Becker took a look at where it pointed. It was down a steep canyon-side. Becker had never known this technology to give false results, so there must have been a second anomaly to this era.
"DANNY QUINN!" he shouted. His voice echoed throughout their mountainous surroundings. Creatures barked and howled in reply, but there was no Quinn.
"Right then!" His squad all stood to attention. "Quinn would probably have made his way down to the canyon floor. Flowing water can be heard down there, and where there's water, there's food. There also appears to be an active anomaly down there, so he may well have headed for that. That's our best chance of finding him. Move out!"
Becker led the way down. Quinn probably made this journey in daylight, but in the darkness of night that now surrounded them, Becker's squad would have a much tougher job.
Once they reached the bottom, Becker noticed something in the dirt. Tyre tracks. This must have been Quinn's motorcycle.
"QUINN!" he shouted again. No reply again. He gestured for the soldiers to come over to see the tracks. "He must have gone this way," Becker said. The squad followed them, eventually leading to a cave, and a locked anomaly.
"It's locked!" said Hawkins. "There must have been people here! The ARC?"
Becker looked down at his detector. This was the anomaly.
"Quinn went through," Briggs said.
"Then we wait until it unlocks," Becker said.
XXXX
"She doesn't have any foreign antigens in her body," Doctor Thorpe said. "She's clean. Just a final disinfection should so it, and then we ask her where she came from." Doctor April Thorpe had just returned from the facility operating theatre, complete with blue scrubs and white mask. "In the meantime, I need to return to the pens. I think I've nearly cracked it."
"Really? How?"
"I'll tell you if it works." She took off her mask and returned to the changing rooms.
Skinner went down to the pens. The Hyaenodons were getting restless. They should soon be transported to the final enclosure at the park. He then made his way to the second area of pens, cut off from the first by a set of barriers, which he opened using his ID card. He took a look at one of the dromaeosaurs. It was behaving very strangely, almost rabidly.
"Dammit…" he whispered. "Harper!" he called. The other scientist soon emerged from the labs. "This raptor in infected," Skinner said.
The henchmen loaded the raptor onto a container, where it could be treated separately from the other animals.
Rossiter had lied. DX had never been cured. They were still experimenting on the Isla Sorna animals. While they were making breakthroughs, DX was still appearing in the animals.
Skinner decided to return to the anomaly. His area was paleontology, not biomedical. He typed into the console, and keyed in the appropriate code. Helen had ordered him to switch the anomaly for an unknown reason.
Something was wrong. This facility was the power source for the entire park, as the magnetism produced awesome levels of power. But the console showed that there was an overload of electricity. It wasn't being used in the park. The power must have been turned off. This couldn't be good…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty-Five
The Fall

It is one of the maladies of our age to profess a frenzied allegiance to truth in unimportant matters, and to refuse consistently to face her where graver issues are at stake
– Norman Douglas

"So, what's your name?" Hemple asked.
He and the American agent were walking towards the staircase in this bunker, which led down to the floor below. That was where Rossiter had said the men were being held.
"Richard Levine," the American replied. "I'm with the US military. It's an undercover operation, ahead of the main… investigation."
"I assume by that you mean 'invasion'…? Hemple asked.
"It's an issue of national security. You saw those things. They need to be contained. Sure, they're a great science project…"
"Personally, I wouldn't even go that far."
"So," Levine said, "I guess this is right up your street?"
"Excuse me?"
"You're the ARC team!"
"Oh yeah, they did say something about contacting other governments." Hemple stopped at the head of the staircase. "Right. I have to be honest, Rossiter's story just stinks of ambush. I'll stay in front, you keep close behind. We stay quiet. OK?"
"Sure."
Hemple descended the staircase. He kept the revolver held aloft, and kept his eyes ahead, scanning the corridor below. It was lit by several lights along the ceiling. There was no-one to be seen. The cream-painted walls that they had seen on the floor above were replaced down here with silver-painted walls. Twenty yards down, two separate corridors split off. For the moment, he decided to start with the left.
He stepped softly down on the floor. He looked back at Levine, and signaled to the left route. Levine nodded. Then, he walked over. He leant up against the wall, and peaked around the corner. There was no-one. In fact, the whole floor was incredibly quiet. Hemple strained his ears. All he could hear was a very faint muffled sound. It was coming from the route on the right, now opposite him. He looked to Levine, and inclined his head there, tapping his ear. Levine looked to the floor, and seemed to notice it too. Hemple led the way over. His ears led him to a room with an iron door. It was padlocked. Hemple pressed his ear up to the door. The sound was definitely coming from this room. His took out the revolver, and aimed it at the padlock. He tried to disguise the shot as much as possible, but it inevitably echoed down through the corridors. It did at least shatter the padlock, as planned. Hemple discarded the shards and pushed the door open.
The men were all there – Garney, Mason, Redfern, Doody and Murdoch. He and Levine untied and ungagged them.
"Garney," Hemple said quietly to the first soldier to be freed, "do you remember what happened?"
"No sir, we just woke up like this. No guards, just a pitch black room. I could only make out that the others were here from their mumbling."
"Do you know where they put the weapons?" Hemple asked, untying Murdoch.
"No," Garney replied.
"Well, that's the next target. And for the record, not much interesting happened up with us either. Just a confusing chat with Helen Cutter, and then another one with Howard Rossiter." He stood up after freeing the last man. "By the way, this is her. Helen. She's the one who's behind all this."
Strangely, there was still no response to the gunshot. No guards. Hemple looked around the ceiling. There were no cameras in this room. This all seemed very odd.
The soldiers' backpacks were not here – no supplies, no first aid, no guns. Together, they all quickly vacated the room, and went out in search of the packs.
Mason leaned over to Hemple. "So, what do we do then?"
"Well, we find Helen Cutter. She seems to have disappeared. Then get some answers. Then, we wait for Levine's buddies to arrive." He pointed to the American.
"Richard Levine," he introduced himself. "I'm with the US military." He seemed to get a real buzz out of saying that. "They should be here very soon."
"Right, good," Mason said.
There was a deafening bang, and the lights went out. After a few seconds, the emergency lights flickered on.
"What the hell was that?" said Levine.
"Come on, we're going back upstairs," Hemple said. He led the way as the group ran to the stairs and to where they'd come from.
As they approached Rossiter's office, they heard a blazing argument, and what sounded like a tussle. Hemple sprinted to the door. As he was ten yards away, it was suddenly opened, and Rossiter stumbled backwards through it. He was shouting, "You've killed us all!" He turned, and noticed Hemple. His face was in a state of extreme panic. He tried to run the other way, but Hemple stopped him and slammed him to the ground. Mason and Redfern supported him as the surprisingly muscular man tried to push Hemple off himself.
"Now, calm down, and tell us what's going on!"

The soldiers heaved Rossiter into the room and set him back down on the couch. Hemple turned to the others. "You let him out?"
"He's actually quite spritely," Connor replied, from behind the computer. He then turned back to the machine. He was desperately trying to reboot it, but the lack of power, and therefore the hopelessness of this endeavour, was beginning to dawn on him. Abby turned back to the red-faced park-owner. The Microraptor glided down to his shoulder and chirped at him.
"Hello Jeffrey," wheezed Rossiter.
"You're kidding, you actually named him after your father?" Campbell said.
"I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met, I'm Captain Hemple, and this is my squad, Mason, Murdoch, Redfern, Garney and Doody. And this is Richard Levine," Hemple said to the head-keeper, extending a hand.
"Head Keeper Gary Campbell." Campbell returned the handshake.
"And you are," Hemple turned to the other newcomer, "Danny Quinn? Well, I'd heard about you!"
"Yes," Danny replied. "I see my reputation precedes me!"
Hemple stood in front of Rossiter. "So, your escape attempt has failed. The floor below us has no guards in it. None. I'm willing to bet that, seeing as no-one's come to your rescue, you're alone. Your best option now is to tell us exactly what is going on."
"No guards? What?" Rossiter said. "That doesn't make sense…"
"How do you mean?" said Hemple.
"He was planning an ambush…" surmised Danny.
"The guards are gone," repeated Hemple. "Probably with Helen."
"Should we go after her?" Danny suggested.
"Nah," Connor said. "Knowing her, she's already saved herself. She's probably in the Permian by now."
"OK, doesn't matter anymore," said Hemple. "Rossiter, what just happened? The power's off."
"Well, he said something along the lines of 'we're all going to die' earlier," said Malcolm.
"Malcolm, let him speak," said Grant.
Everyone, including Connor at the computer, turned to Rossiter. The man sighed, and closed his eyes. Then, he spoke.
"The power went off. Must have been some kind of malfunction in the system. If the lights are off, then that means the whole park's power supply is off, except a few emergency supplies. The lights go on the emergency supply, and so do the elevators."
"What about the fences?" asked Abby.
"No. They're off," said Rossiter.
"What?" exclaimed Campbell. "You said they had back-up power too!"
"We were developing it. We'd wanted it to be finished by the opening day, but it wasn't," said Rossiter.
"How do we turn the power back on?" Jenny asked.
"We can't," Rossiter answered. "Not without Helen's keycard. You need two keycards to operate the system, mine and hers. And Helen appears to have disappeared."
"OK," said Campbell. "We have to get the other keepers. And evacuate the guests. And find the cache."
"The cache? A weapons cache?" asked Hemple hopefully.
"Yeah. Heavy weaponry. Just in case things got ugly. Now seems like the right time to use it."
"Sounds good," said Hemple. "Where is it?"
"The northern end of the park," said Campbell. "It's about an hour's walk."
"Well, we should still have a store of weapons somewhere around here," said Hemple. "Our guns. We didn't have time to find them downstairs before." He looked to Rossiter. "Any ideas where they are specifically?"
Rossiter sighed again. "Behind the bookcase."
Hemple looked over to the bookcase opposite the couch. He walked over to it, and heaved it away from the wall. Mason, Redfern and Grant helped him. When it had been pushed away, it revealed a safe in the wall behind it.
"Code?" said Hemple.
"Eighteen left, Fifteen right, Nineteen left, Nineteen right, Nine left, Twenty right, Five left, Eighteen right," said Rossiter.
Hemple turned the dial and opened the safe. Inside lay six pistols, and ammo. Hemple drew them out and handed them to the five squad members. He then passed Rossiter's ivory revolver to Levine. Abby's two tranquilizer pistols, however, were missing.
"Where are the tranquilizers?" she asked.
"Distributed to the keepers," said Rossiter.
"Great," said Abby.
"What about our phones?" Jenny asked.
"I don't know where they are," Rossiter said. "Helen took them."
"Do you remember the ARC's number?" Danny asked. "We could ring them on Rossiter's mobile."
"Or 911, that would work too," Malcolm said.
"OK," Jenny replied.
Danny passed her the phone. "Damn, it's out of credit. I'll try 911."
"Do you really think the police can deal with this sort of emergency?" Rossiter pointed out. "They're not properly prepared…"
"No, but they can contact the army," Levine interjected. "I might be able to get us through."
Jenny passed the phone over, and Levine rang 911. They took Levine's call into consideration, but refused to put him through to the army.
After the call had ended, Hemple asked, "What about your army contacts?"
"Nah, it's a specially restricted number. I can only contact it through my old cell, which has been…" He looked to Rossiter.
"Destroyed, I'm afraid," Rossiter replied.
"Great," Levine said.
"Anyway, let's find this weapons cache!" announced Hemple. "Hopefully, the creatures haven't noticed the power's off yet, so the park should be relatively safe. Mason, Redfern, Levine, you three stay here. Murdoch, Garney, Doody, you come with us."
"I'll come too," said Danny.
"Oh no you're not," said Jenny. "Right, Hemple?"
"I don't see any problem with it," said Hemple. "By the sounds of things he's survived an encounter with those giant scorpions. His record seems to show he's capable of dealing with creatures. As long as you're happy to go without a firearm?"
"OK," said Danny.
"Right then," said Hemple. "Let's go!"
"Good luck Hemple," said Abby.
Hemple nodded. Campbell slung his rifle back over his shoulder, and he, Hemple, Murdoch, Garney, Doody and Danny left the office.
"So, Rossiter, what about this emergency power supply?" asked Connor.
"It doesn't power the computers, if that's what you're asking," Rossiter replied.
"Yeah, I figured that out. I mean, where does it come from?"
"A generator downstairs. It runs on oil. But it's nearly out of fuel. It should keep going for another couple of hours, but there's more fuel on the bottom floor. There's a lift down to there in the entrance hall."
"Is there anyone else in the building?" asked Mason.
"No, all the staff spend the night in the dorm rooms at the hotel."
"Shouldn't we go warn them?" Redfern asked.
"No, there will be at least one, probably two keepers there, keeping guard. They're on high alert after scorpion breakout."
Connor got up from the dormant computer and strode over to Rossiter. "The bottom floor's secure, right?"
"Yes. The lift and the stairs from the floor below are the only ways down," confirmed Rossiter.
"Right." Connor walked back to the computer chair and put his waistcoat back on.
"Where are you going?" asked Jenny.
"To find some fuel. And check out the whole floor. Better than sitting here doing nothing."
"But it could be dangerous," said Jenny. "What if there are guards down there?"
"There won't be," said Rossiter. "They seem to have abandoned us. You won't find anything down there but fuel and academic papers. And it's completely secure." He actually seemed genuine this time. "There's a map on my desk."
Abby walked over and shuffled through the papers beside the computer, eventually pulling out a map.
"Thanks," Connor said, expecting Abby to hand it to him.
"What? Don't think you're going alone!" said Abby.
"Yeah, we'll go with you too," said Redfern.
"Nah, you heard him," said Connor, "there's no danger down there. You're better off up here. Though I wouldn't mind a gun, if it's on offer?"
"Sure." Redfern passed his pistol to Abby.
"Thanks," she said. "Come on," she said to Connor. The pair of them left the office.

The office went silent, now without Connor's constant typing. Jenny, Grant, Malcolm, Levine, Redfern, Mason and Rossiter were now left alone.
"So, anyone up for chess?" Malcolm asked.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty-Six
Their Darkest Hour?

He heard 'Ride of the Valkyries' play.
…
They had just left the lobby, on the ground floor of the central park complex. They were now stood in the plaza outside. The streetlamps above them no longer cast any light as they had earlier in the night. The power was off. Their squad of six – Danny, Hemple, Garney, Murdoch, Doody and Campbell – were trekking through the park to the weapons cache on the north side of the park. It was an hour's walk away. They set off on the north-facing path, on the right. It led into thick forest. There was a gap in the storm, but it looked as if it was going to resume soon. As this path sloped downwards slightly, the water here collected into a stream, flowing in the same direction as they were walking. As they entered the darkness, Danny took note that the only barrier separating them from the jungle was a wood-and-rope fence. There weren't any enclosures here. Danny couldn't help but feel ever-so-slightly vulnerable, being the only person without a weapon. But, hopefully, none of the creatures were out yet.
Well, excluding the scorpion he'd accidentally let out.
Campbell was banging his walkie-talkie. It was emitting static.
"What's wrong?" Danny asked.
"My walkie. It's busted," replied the keeper. "If it was working I could contact the other keepers, but, nada."
"How many other keepers are there?" Danny asked.
"Seven. Stationed around the park. McCoy is on guard at the hotel. O'Donnell is at the Kelenken, Scott at the sabre-tooths. Last I heard, Mueller was going after the scorpion. Vasquez is at…"
Campbell was interrupted by the sound of bending metal. It was close. The convoy stopped and raised the five torches they'd raided from the lobby. The yellow torchlights flashed around in the darkness. They only picked up trees, fencing, the pathway beneath them, and the occasional shiny wrapper discarded by the day's guests.
In the flashing lights, Danny noticed something on the ground. He walked closer, and crouched down to see it. Around the next bend, as the stream of water carried on straight, the mud immediately on the other side of the corner was allowed to settle. In that mud, Danny saw a shape imprinted.
Campbell, who must have noticed him crouching, shone his torch in that mud, revealing the shape perfectly.
It was a twelve-inch-long, three toed foot. A raptor foot.
A crack of thunder bellowed around them, and the rain returned. Danny stood up, and noticed that there were only four torchlights left. He looked around.
"We're missing someone," he said.
Hemple looked around. "Murdoch?" The soldier had vanished. "Murdoch!"
The bushes around them started to shake. And then, a hissing noise.
Something was out there.
Behind the convoy, away from the torchlight, Danny heard something splash. Then a growling. The group turned their torch-wielding arms towards the noise, only to see Garney launched off his feet, straight into the air. Something had shoved him, but no-one could spot it before it landed on the soldier. Hemple opened fire. Garney wailed. His gun slid into the path of the stream. Quickly, Danny picked it up, and followed Hemple's example. And yet, the writhing creature on Garney never made a sound of pain.
Then, as soon as it had appeared, the creature disappeared. In the darkness, Danny couldn't even see where it had gone.
Garney moaned. Doody rushed to his side, and looked at his wounds. Hemple remained standing at Garney's side, his revolver and torch held high.
"How bad is he?" Hemple asked.
"He's got a huge gash in his stomach," said Doody. "He's bleeding. If I had some bandages, I could have made some kind of job of it, but, we'll just have to turn back. This complex we were in, it has medical supplies, yeah?" He turned up to Campbell, who was still whipping his rifle around.
"Yeah, it does," the keeper replied.
"Right, then we're going there," Hemple said. He and Doody lifted the unconscious Garney on their shoulders, and Danny witnessed the full, terrible extent of his injuries.
Danny picked up Garney's dropped torch. He walked ahead of the soldiers and shone the way back.
With a thud and a splash, a two-legged, scaly giant landed in the beam of his torch. It must have jumped through the fence. It ran forward and rammed Garney away from Hemple and Doody, who were pushed to the side.
Danny instinctively backed away, against the fence. Almost as soon as he'd rested against the rope, it violently pushed him back, and he fell to the ground. He dropped his gun and his torch. Danny turned onto his back. All of a sudden, those nightmares came back, flashing through his mind. He was frozen to the spot. He almost expected to see a toothy grin leering over him. Instead, he saw the ropes whip away from their wooden posts, followed by another raptor jumping out from the dark forest. It leaped right over Danny's head.
Danny came back to his senses. He pushed himself onto his feet. He turned to see Hemple, Doody and Campbell firing on the raptors, now stood over Garney's body.
One of Doody's shots struck a raptor in the head, behind its eye. It called out, and turned at its aggressor. It charged at Doody, and knocked him into the air, against one of the wooden posts. Doody fell to the muddy ground, limp.
Danny tried to rush to Doody's aid, even without a gun, but the raptor now noticed him. It turned to stalk Danny, sizing up this new prey.
Behind it, Hemple rushed to Doody, and lifted him over his shoulder. He now used the two firearms, and fired again and again at the creature facing Danny. The raptor decided to give up the new hunt, and returned to Garney.
Just as they seemed to have a new window of opportunity to escape, two more shapes emerged from the pathside foliage. Together, they blocked the route back to the complex.
"The weapons cache!" shouted Campbell. Hemple seemed to agree. Carrying the unconscious Doody, he followed Campbell down the other way. The raptors were too preoccupied with Garney to look for more food. Danny decided to keep up with them.
The path got slightly steeper down here, and eventually turned to steps. Danny slipped, and slid down the steps onto his back. As he finally stopped at the bottom, the pain in his back sank in. He was panting. Campbell, Hemple and Doody were gone. He got up, and tried to find them again.
He heard another call. Danny stopped in his tracks. Then, footfalls coming towards him, splashing through the mud and water.
Danny couldn't outrun it. He turned to the undergrowth. He ran into the darkness of the jungle. Danny felt his way through the foliage. About three yards from the path, he stopped and crouched behind what he felt to be a fallen tree trunk. He was panting. Behind him on the path, Danny could hear the creature running past.
When it was gone, he finally relaxed. He keeled over himself and threw up.
Danny sat back against the trunk. He was completely out of breath. It was pitch black. He couldn't see a thing. The torch was gone. The gun too. He was defenseless. Easy pickings.
And he heard 'Ride of the Valkyries' play.
It was coming from his jean pocket. Something was vibrating, and playing that song. He reached in and pulled out a mobile phone. Rossiter's… He still had it. And someone was ringing.
He flipped it open. It said "Helen ringing".
Reluctantly, he answered it. He waited for her to speak.
Helen's voice came through the other end. "Rossiter? Howard? Can you hear me?"
"Helen Cutter?" Danny whispered into the phone.
Helen paused. "Danny? Why do you have Rossiter's phone?" She paused again. "M…Maybe this is a wrong number…"
"Helen, where are you?" Danny asked her. "The power's out in the park. The creatures are escaping. The raptors are already out…"
"I know," she said. "I'm trapped. On the north side of the park. I'm in a bunker. There are raptors outside! You have to find help. Are you with anyone?"
"No, I'm alone. And lost."
"Right… Danny, Rossiter's phone has a map of the park on it. It's in his pictures folder. I'm in the building behind the Camarasaurus enclosure. At the edge of the park. Please hu—ccckckkkc." She cut out. Then, silence.
Danny looked through the phone. Rossiter's map was there, as promised.
There was a small building behind the Camarasaurus, labeled "Staff Only". It could well have been the weapons cache.
It made sense to go there. And, liar or not, she was at least worth saving.
…
Mercifully, Danny did not encounter any further escapees on his walk to the cache building. The storm even eased along the way. Still, all he had to guide him were the light from Rossiter's phone, the map and the compass that it bore. It was a slow journey, through the jungle. Plus, he couldn't be sure he was going in a straight line all the time. Within another hour and a half, he'd reached the huge Camarasaurus enclosure. These dinosaurs were vegetarians, long-necked and peaceful. Danny reckoned that they would keep the raptors away, being more than capable of fending them off.
The building was small, one-floored, and concrete, and situated beside the enclosure. He went up to the metal door, which bore a "Staff Only" sign. He tried the handle. It was unlocked. Danny wrenched open the door, and looked inside. He felt around the wall, and found a light-switch. He flicked it.
The whole small room lit up.
And it was empty.
Cold, concrete, and empty.
There was no Helen. No weapons. Just a cardboard box in the corner. Danny walked over, and kicked the box aside with frustration. And he was shocked at what lay below.
An egg. A large egg, slightly smaller than an ostrich egg, and coloured white.
Oh my God…
He heard that sickening, terrible raven's call again. It was just outside.
A raptor stepped inside the bunker. For the first time, Danny saw it in full light. It was a muscular animal, and it was very tall, its head almost reaching Danny's shoulder-height. Its body was a pale, brownish yellow hue, with dark stripes running down its back, for the entire length of its body. It turned to face Danny, and its movements were very birdlike, but its yellowy green eyes were far more reptilian in eyed the egg behind Danny. This was its egg. Helen had tricked him. She wanted him dead.
Danny had nowhere to run. He could only try one thing.
He picked up the egg, and without making any sudden moves, gently placed it down in front of the dinosaur.
Danny realized that he was appealing to the better nature of a monster that had just killed one of his comrades, but, surprisingly, the dinosaur actually approached the egg, and ignored him. It made a deep rumbling noise. It was answered by a very faint croak from inside the egg. The raptor then picked up the egg, turned around, and left.
Danny fell in a heap on the floor. This was one near-death experience too many.
After a few minutes, he heard a voice outside.
"Hello?" It was Hemple.
Danny sat up to see Hemple, followed by Campbell and Doody, step into the bunker.
"Danny?" Hemple said. "You're alive!"
"Yeah," he said, standing up again. "So," he said, turning to Campbell, this is your heavy weaponry cache?"
"It was…" said an evidently shell-shocked head keeper.
"Someone's raided it?" Doody said. "Who?"
Danny sighed. "I don't know."
Campbell turned back outside, and breathed in deeply. "The storm's passing," he said. The clouds were parting to reveal a sunrise on the eastern horizon.
"OK," said Hemple. "We stay here. It seems secure. A good place to stay until it gets brighter outside. Then, we get back to the central complex."
Campbell came inside and closed the steel door. He pulled out his keys and locked it. He sat down against the concrete wall.
Now seemed their darkest hour. All they could do was wait until help arrived.
Then he had an idea.
He took out the silver flip-phone.
"Is that Rossiter's?" Campbell asked.
Danny nodded. He went through the phonebook. He had little idea who most of the names referred to. The first one that caught his eye was "Facility". He decided to give them a ring.
The answerer was a familiar voice. "Rossiter? I'm busy, what is it?" Danny took a second to place it. He was the scientist at the facility. The bossy one.
"Erm, Mister Rossiter wanted to deliver a message to your… facility… There's been an accident at the…"
While he was speaking, he heard a clatter, and shouting voices. Then, the phone cut out.
Danny looked at the screen. It was out of battery.

----------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty-Seven
Out Cold

Nothing is to be feared but fear. – Francis Bacon

The lift was quiet, and cold. The lifts and some of the lights were working, but nothing else. The power was out across the park. As it slowly descended down to the lower levels, Connor considered what they might face down there. He now realised what a foolhardy plan this had been.
The lift came to a stop, and the doors opened. Abby stepped out, and Connor followed close behind.
They came out at a junction – they could go left, right or straight ahead.
"Right then," Abby said. "Which way do we go?"
She took out the map they'd been given. A room to the far left was labelled "FUEL STORAGE".
"That way then," Connor pointed at it.
"Yeah, I can read!" Abby retorted, sounding slightly irritated.
They marched to the left, slowly, quietly. They soon came upon a door, left slightly ajar. Abby glanced at Connor, and then looked inside.
"Hello? Is someone in there?" Abby whispered. She nudged the door further open with the barrel of her pistol. It was a small room, full of clutter. It had clearly been ruined by… something. Underneath the files and papers, a desk was barely visible. Removing some of the mess, Connor saw the name of the person who the desk had belonged to.
"Professor Archibald Skinner," he read out. Connor shuddered to think what had become of him. He hadn't heard of a Professor Skinner in the park…
Connor was snapped back into reality. Something was rustling among the papers. Abby raised the pistol, and cautiously approached it.
The creature poked its head out between the files.
"Procompsognathus!" Connor exclaimed with relief. A little too loudly. The frightened creature bolted and jumped on top of the table. It stopped, looked Connor square in the eyes, and spat at him.
"Ah!" Connor stumbled back, blinded by the attack.
As he slowly recovered his sight, he noticed the air vent on the wall was open.
"Uh… where's the compy?"
"It got out," Abby replied. "Into the ventilation shaft. It was so fast, I couldn't stop it. It could be anywhere by now, and we don't have the time to go on a wild goose chase."
Connor jumped as he heard something scrabbling above the ceiling…
"Right then… So there are creatures here." He gulped. "Let's move on!"
…
Abby led the way as they walked further down the corridor. All the rooms they came upon were either locked, empty, or had already been trashed by the creatures, everything of value destroyed. There must have been other creatures down here. Either small ones were housed here, or there was another way in that Rossiter hadn't told them about. Every now and then Connor saw something scrabble past them, in the corner of his eye. By the time he had turned round, it was gone.
Eventually, they reached the fuel storage room. There were three cans of oil there, and, fortunately, it seemed the creatures had left the room intact. Abby grabbed one, leaving her other hand free for the gun, and Connor carried the other two.
Then, just as they were exiting the room, Connor heard a noise. Obviously Abby had heard it too, as she dropped the gas and raised her pistol. It had been like a growl.
Connor had heard it before. He searched his memory. He couldn't fit it.
He didn't have long to theorize, though, as something grabbed him from behind and pulled him to the ground. He thrashed around, trying to push it away, when it revealed itself.
The Camo Beast.
That's what he'd nicknamed it, anyway. He had seen it before, in the abandoned house. It could camouflage itself to almost any background. Which explained how they hadn't seen it coming.
That awful, nightmare-inspiring face bore down at him, with its mouth full of thin, sharp teeth.
Abby fired off a warning shot, then a second. Taken by surprise, the creature fled. It quickly camouflaged itself again, disappearing.
"Are you okay?" she asked Connor, as she helped him up.
"Yeah… thanks, Abby."
"Sure thing!" she said, smiling.
Suddenly, they heard a yelp from further down the corridor. They looked around to see the camo beast had fallen to the floor, dead, its camouflage no longer in effect. Standing over it was their worst nightmare – an 8-foot long Velociraptor. The dinosaur looked up from its fresh kill and identified its next targets.
Abby once again raised her weapon. This time, two warning shots made no impression whatsoever – this creature was obviously well used to guns. The raptor started running towards them.
Abby paused. She took one deep breath.
With no choice, Abby was forced to shoot right at it. She fired her first shot. It missed by an inch.
A second shot hit it in the thigh. It stumbled slightly, but quickly recovered.
Abby reloaded and fired two more shots, both hitting it in the same thigh again. It still didn't slow down for more than a few seconds.
It was too close now. Connor could see that.
"Abby!"
"Just need one more shot…" she muttered, reloading the pistol again.
Just five yards away from the reptile, Abby pulled the trigger. It misfired.
It was too late.
"Abby, MOVE!" Connor rammed her out of the lunging raptor's path.
As she slammed to the floor, the pistol fell out of her hand.
Connor was first to get back to his feet. He grabbed the gun, reloaded it and, staring the creature in the eye, shot straight at it.
Blood sparked Connor's face as the creature roared in pain. It staggered backwards. Connor had shot it right in the eye.
With newfound confidence, Connor took a second shot. The bullet hit home once again, the creature's already bloody head even redder now.
It raised its head high and called out. This call was new.
"It's a distress call…" Abby whispered, the fear evident in her voice.
Connor's heart sank. He hadn't even considered the possibility of a pack of raptors…
Another, identical call was returned, loud; it couldn't have been more than a hundred yards down the corridor.
The first raptor bellowed out again.
"Connor, give it here." Abby grabbed the gun and shot the raptor twice in the throat. With one more groan, it fell.
Abby sighed. She turned back to Connor.
"Now run!"
Connor followed her order, and together they sprinted from the source of the call. Where there had been one raptor, a full pack could follow.
It wasn't more than twenty seconds before Abby fell. Connor swung round to see the second raptor on top of her. She fired her pistol twice more, but in the struggle it was hard to aim, and she missed both times.
Weaponless, Connor could do nothing but use his own body.
He flung himself at the raptor. It pushed him back. He stumbled backwards. Abby reloaded and fired, hitting the raptor in the side.
And then, a click.
She was out of ammo.
"No!"
Connor looked around. There had to be something. Something he could use to save her.
Then he saw it.
He grabbed the fire extinguisher off the wall.
Stephen had once told him a story about using one of these to fend off a Gorgonopsid. He'd failed, but they didn't have a better choice.
Connor grasped the nozzle and pulled the trigger.
Gas sprayed at the raptor's face. Taken aback, it loosened its grip. Abby wrestled free.
Connor helped her up.
The raptor recovered and grabbed the nozzle.
And Connor's hand with it.
"ARGH!" Connor screamed in pain as the reptile sank its teeth into his flesh.
He focused, and discharged the gas again.
Carbon dioxide poured directly into the predator's lungs.
It stumbled backwards, gasping in a strange reptilian way.
Connor collapsed, clutching his hand.
Abby took over, and delivered a massive roundhouse kick to the creature's head. The raptor retreated, clearly already weakened by its near suffocation.
It soon regained strength, and charged straight at Abby. She was rammed against the wall. Her limp body fell. She was out cold.
Rage exploded inside Connor. Suddenly he didn't care about his hand. He grabbed the nozzle and, one last time, sprayed it in the face.
It once again retreated to recover.
But Connor wasn't going to let it recover this time.
He grabbed the canister, and, with all the might he could summon, he swung it straight at the raptor's skull.
Connor heard a sickening, though darkly satisfying crack.
It fell to the ground.
Dead.
After a moment of simply taking in what he had achieved, the raptor-killer rushed to Abby's side.
"Abby! Abby!"
He tried to wake her up.
After what seemed like an hour, but was probably just a few minutes, he saw signs of consciousness.
Abby groaned with pain as she tried to raise her head.
"Easy" Connor whispered, slowly resting her head on his waistcoat. "Easy, that's it, there you go. You've had a nasty bump."
"Where is it? The raptor?"
"It's gone. Everything's going to be fine."
"You saved me!" she said, cracking a smile.

---------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty-Eight
Tyrant Lizards

If you are afraid to speak against tyranny, then you are already a slave. – John 'Birdman' Bryant

Rossiter moved his knight forward. Right out onto the board. It was a confident first move.
Malcolm sat forward on Rossiter's swivel chair, and studied the board. He'd won the coin toss, so this was his second move. He decided to take slightly more caution than his opponent.
He moved the fourth pawn (from the left) forward two places. It was safe from Rossiter's knight, which has come from the right and was now diagonal to his pawn. But it was still a dangerous move. And, as Rossiter leaned in to decide on his next push, it became clear that it was a foolhardy one. He would have to back that pawn up later.
Rossiter, sitting on a chair on the other side of his desk, considered his options. He was black, Malcolm was white. Rossiter pushed his knight forward again. It was now more or less in the middle of the board, and right in front of Malcolm's pawn.
Malcolm wasn't concentrating. He was thinking of bigger things. Captain Hemple, three of his soldiers, Campbell and Danny Quinn were out in the park. That wasn't safe. Why hadn't he said anything? At least the group was well-defended, with trained soldiers. And time-travel? That was eating at Malcolm the most. How could that be possible? Malcolm followed his plan and moved a knight forward.
Rossiter moved his knight and took Malcolm's newly moved piece. Damn, that was a stupid move… One of his best men was out of the game.
Malcolm took the obvious choice and knocked out the offending knight with a nearby pawn. They may not have been as impressive as knights, but they could still pack a punch.
"An eye for an eye," remarked Rossiter. He smirked.
Malcolm knew how every single move mattered. It was chaos theory, all over. How just one, seemingly insignificant decision can win or lose a game. Malcolm had played chess a lot in his youth, while studying chaos theory.
In eleven turns' time, it was all over the place. The pieces were spread out all over the board. Malcolm had suffered severe losses, while Rossiter was only down a pawn and a knight. And yet, Malcolm had the awful feeling that this next turn would be a game-changer. Whatever the outcome.
Jenny was feeling nervous. She shouldn't have been. Mason was standing guard at the lobby, and Redfern was patrolling the corridors. Malcolm was watching Rossiter. The building was secure. And yet, she had a terrible sinking feeling.
They'd tried all of the phones, but none of them worked sans power.
She was standing in a drawing room. At the centre of the room was a long, mahogany table, with chairs around it. She was staring out the window. The storm that had raged for the last hour was finally calming. She thought about Hemple and Danny, out there in the darkness. Then she thought about Connor and Abby – where were they?
She heard a knock on the door. "Come in!"
Redfern stepped through. "Ma'am, Temple and Maitland are gone an hour. I was thinking I should go downstairs and see where they've gone. Is that OK?"
"What? Are you sure? Isn't it dangerous going by yourself?" she asked.
"I'll be fine, ma'am." He pointed out his pistol.
"OK, I guess," Jenny replied.
"Thanks. I'll see you soon." He closed the door and left.
Jenny stepped away from the window and sat down at the head of the table. It was an uncomfortable seat.
…
He won't know a thing before I have them trapped…
Rossiter moved his surviving knight towards Malcolm's lines.
"Check."
It seemed a foolish move, to stride his last knight out on what seemed like a suicide mission, for apparently no gain.
Malcolm took the bait. He used his rook to take out the knight.
Rossiter had his trap set for Malcolm. He was still preparing his plan for the real world too. Chess helped him think.
He could enlist Campbell as an ally, with a bit of coercion. Campbell wanted the park preserved just as much as Rossiter, so they had similar goals. Levine could be brought around to their way of thinking too. He was an idealistic paleontologist, who could be persuaded of the virtues of the park. Perhaps the situation wasn't quite as bleak as it had appeared…
"RUN!"
Connor and Abby sprinted to the door. Connor tripped on his way through and fell to the floor. Abby grabbed the door handle and slammed it shut, before locking it.
The door jerked, nearly out of its hinges. A charging raptor had left a large dent in the metal of this steel door. It was the first open door they'd seen on the whole floor, and they hadn't missed a second in sprinting to safety.
"How many raptors is that now?" Connor asked, getting up.
"That's only the third, Con," Abby replied.
Outside, they could hear the raptor stepping around on the other side of the door. After a few seconds, it walked away.
Connor gasped for air, having held his breath, and collapsed on a chair.
This room was a fairly standard office, with a work desk, a chair, and papers piled on the desk. There was also a laptop.
Connor seemed to notice it.
"Oh, my God!" he exclaimed.
He quickly pulled it over and switched it on. "Oh yes, we're in business!" He frantically typed away at the keyboard. Abby watched as his face lit up gradually more and more. "Oh my God! It's worked!"
"What worked?" Abby asked.
Connor didn't answer. Instead, he leaned in closer. "Hey! You people there! Are you reading this? We're trapped in a bunker and there are giant raptors out there! Please send help as soon as possible! Our co-ordinates are…"
There was 'ckckckckkckck' sound, and Connor stopped. "Dammit…" he started typing again, but it seemed he couldn't do anything. He banged the table with frustration.
"What happened? Was there someone there?" Abby asked.
"I dunno, I was sending out a radio signal. I thought I heard someone on the other side, but it could just be exhaustion."
Abby sighed and leant against the wall. Although even she thought she could faintly hear a noise. Like someone talking…
"Can you make it work again?" she asked.
"I can try…" he said. He started typing again. Then, he stopped. "The screen's gone. Out of power."
"Right," Abby said. "Then, can you bring that with us? We need to start moving again."
"Where to?" Connor asked.
Abby took out the map and spread it on the desk. "We're pretty far away from the lifts now. And the stairs. But…"
"But what?"
"Well, the raptors had to come from somewhere, right? There has to be another way out. I think…" She pointed to a dead end on the map. "…it's here."
"Right… that's just around the corner, isn't it?"
"Yeah. It must lead outside. I mean, we have a better chance in the open than in here, with at least one raptor inside…"
Connor nodded. Together, they stood behind the door. Abby, in front, grasped the door handle. "On three. One, two, three!"
Levine entered the office. "Err, Malcolm, you want me to take over?"
"Yeah," said the man behind the desk, "the game's as good as lost." Malcolm stood up and picked up his coat. "Keep a close eye on him." Then he left.
"So, Mister Levine," Rossiter said as Levine closed the door, "care for a game of chess?"
"Actually, I'm too tired." Levine slouched down on the couch.
Rossiter stood off the chair and took over his old swivel chair. He looked at his watch. "My goodness, it's 6 a.m. We've spent the whole night in here. You must all be exhausted."
Levine didn't answer. He lay on the couch facing Rossiter. He never let the man out of his sight.
Rossiter sat down. "So, Mister Levine, how did you come to be here?"
"US military," Levine replied.
"They've been watching the operation? Well, I can't say I'm surprised. It was fairly… heavy…"
"That's one way of putting it!"
"Ah yes, Mister Levine, I've heard all the righteous indignation by now. It seems to be the default reaction of people who are already used to seeing prehistoric animals."
"Well, what did you expect? I'll spare you the details, but here's the timeline: nature chooses dinosaurs to die out; makes way for mammals and eventually humans to evolve; man chooses dinosaurs to bring back to life; dinosaurs destroy first human operation; dinosaurs destroy second human operation; business man thinks he can do better and creates a park full of all kinds of prehistoric killers; dinosaurs start to destroy third human operation. How can you expect this park to be any different to the last?"
Rossiter smiled. "You've read Doctor Malcolm's books."
"Well, I expect he's already told you the reasons why this is doomed to failure?"
"Actually, we didn't talk. We just battled." Rossiter motioned to the chessboard. "But he wasn't concentrating. His mind was on other things."
"Well, it's not exactly a relaxing environment we're in…"
"I guess I can't expect him to reserve the same first-time awe the other guests had."
"Let's just… stop talking about Malcolm."

"You two have… history, I gather?"
"I said, stop talking about him."
"Well, I'm just concerned that you two wouldn't be functioning well in this team."
"Team?" Levine stood up from the couch. "What team? Nine people from the ARC, two doctors, and someone who just plain showed up out of nowhere! We're not a team, especially not you!"
"I don't want anyone to get hurt!" Rossiter said. "And at the moment, that's all that matters to me. The politics, the animals themselves… the people go first."
"OK," Levine said. He calmed down, and sat on the couch again. "Well, we're not completely disregarding the animals, I mean, they're unique. They have to be preserved…"
"Exactly, Mister Levine, exactly my point. Preservation of the animals. We made mistakes with the park, I admit that, but we can learn from them. That's what humans do best!
"Mister Levine," Rossiter said, "When Captain Hemple and his team return, it is very likely that they are going to go back out and try to contain the escaped animals. That cache contains very serious weaponry. Weapons that can only be used to kill. To destroy. And we both know that he intends to use that weaponry. He may ask you to accompany him. He won't let me get into any position of decision-making, but you, on the other hand… well, he may listen to you. Only you can stop him destroying these wonderful creatures."
"People are dying right now!" Hemple shouted. He got off the couch. "And you…"
The door opened. Grant poked his head into the room. "Is everything alright in here?"
"Yeah, everything's fine," said Hemple. "You mind taking my shift? I need to stretch my legs."
"Sure thing," Grant said.
Levine left the room and closed the door.
…
Grant was left alone with Rossiter. The man on the swivel chair spoke up.
"Care for a game of chess?"
XXXX
On the anomaly-side desk, the phone was ringing. Skinner rushed over to pick it up. It said that Helen was calling.
"Helen?" he answered.
"Skinner! I'm on my way to the facility. OP2666CP65."
"Got it," Skinner replied. Helen hung up. Skinner replaced the phone. Just as he was walking over to the console to carry out Helen's order, the phone rang again. It said Rossiter this time.
Suspending the phone between his chin and his shoulder, Skinner started on the console and said, "Rossiter? I'm busy, what is it?"
The voice that answered was not Rossiter's. "Erm, Mister Rossiter wanted to deliver a message to your… facility…" Skinner accidentally pressed the wrong button on the console. The anomaly swiveled and unlocked. It wasn't linking to the Cretaceous, as Helen had asked, but the Oligocene, the last destination.
Eh, no big deal. He started typing into the console again, to correct it.
The man on the phone kept talking. "There's been an accident at the…"
"DON'T MOVE!"
Skinner was frozen to the spot.
"Hang up the phone." Someone was standing right behind him. And he heard a pistol cock.
He did as he was told.

----------------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty-Nine
Blucher's Intervention

War is just when it is necessary; arms are permissible when there is no hope except in arms. – Titus Livius

He's late…
It was 7:00 a.m. Lester had just entered the ARC, bright and early for a new day's paperwork-signing. He was anticipating Becker and his four soldiers to be back as he had ordered. Maybe Quinn too, all going well. But they weren't.
"Anyone here?" Lester called from the central atrium of the ARC.
He heard a few calls back from the distant innards of the building. Probably the scientists, he thought.
Lester had expected Becker to be late anyway, so he walked up to his office and sat at his desk. Despite his efforts to stay awake by signing away forms and reading the news, Lester slowly drifted off.
He awoke some time later. He checked the clock mounted on the wall - 11:15. Now this was late. He got up to check he hadn't missed them, but sure enough, the ARC was as empty as he'd left it.
He thought of whom to send after them, before realising – he had no-one left to send.
…
It was 3:30 a.m. They still had another hour left to wait for Quinn. Becker was stood at the anomaly, his rifle held towards the shining sphere. Every time it made a sudden move, flickered or shivered, Becker anticipated it bursting out and turning into an open anomaly.
But every time, it just returned to stability. As if it was taunting him.
Their locker was useless. It could not unlock the anomaly. Somehow, it was held in place by some other kind of technology, made by someone else.
"Sir, maybe I should take over?"
Becker turned to see Briggs behind him. "I'm fine, Corporal."
The anomaly made a noise.
Briggs looked towards it in anticipation.
"Don't worry soldier, it's not…" As he was speaking, the anomaly exploded forth into a hundred thousand shimmering pieces. It was open. "Never mind."
The other soldiers picked up their equipment, the guns and the locker, and lined up expectantly.
Becker charged through the anomaly, rifle held high. He emerged in some sort of man-made building, in a corridor. He didn't stop. The end of the corridor opened out into a central floor. There was only one person here, working at some sort of massive computer. The man, dressed in a white coat, was on the phone to someone. Consequently, he didn't notice Becker.
"DON'T MOVE!" Becker shouted.
Becker held his rifle in one hand, and with the other he took out his pistol. He cocked it.
"Hang up the phone." The man did as Becker said. Behind him, the rest of the squad lined up.
The man turned around from the computer. He jumped at the sight of five people pointing guns at him.
"Hands over your head." Without a word, the scientist followed Becker's order. "What's your name?" Becker asked.
"Professor Skinner."
"OK, thanks. Where are we? Or… when are we?"
"Miami. June 2009."
"What… really?" Hawkins asked. "That's one hell of a coincidence! What date?"
"Wednesday 10th."
"No way! And the time?"
"Hawkins, please!" Becker said. He turned to Skinner. "What time is it?" Then he noticed the clock on the wall. 6:15 a.m. 11:15 a.m. in London. Damn, he was late.
"Sir," Briggs spoke up, "This is Miami, it's the present, they have anomalies!"
"I know, soldier," Becker replied. "Skinner, are you by any chance affiliated with Everglades Land of Time?"
"You know about the anomalies, don't you?" Skinner said. "Who are you people?"
"I asked first. And I have the guns."
It all happened in an instant. Skinner shifted his gaze to something behind Becker's back. There was a sound of gunshot. Becker turned. Jenson fell to the ground. There was a man behind him, holding a smoking gun. His face was emotionless. Briggs and Rogers started firing at him. More men followed the first one, all seemingly identical. Becker recognized them. They were Helen Cutter's clones.
Becker reacted. He holstered his pistol and started firing with his rifle. Hawkins fell to Jenson's side. "They shot him in the back! Those bloody cowards!" Hawkins lifted his rifle and started firing from the floor.
Jenson's shooter was floored by one of Hawkins' shots. But more clones just kept on coming from the inner areas of this building. There were now seven by Becker's count. "AH!" Rogers clutched her arm, which was now bleeding. She crouched to the ground, but quickly recovered her rifle and kept shooting. She hit one of the clones in the knee, and it fell without recovering. Then, one of the clones walked up to Briggs and grabbed his rifle right out of his hands. In the same swoop of his body, the clone punched Briggs right across the face, pushing him to the ground. Becker used his rifle and poured bullets into the clone. It fell in a pool of blood.
"OK," Becker had seen enough. Jenson was bleeding out. This battle needed to be ended quickly. The next move would be a risky one. "Briggs, get back!" The soldier did as he'd been told. Becker pulled out a grenade, pulled out the pin, and lobbed it straight at the oncoming waves of clones. They were in a corridor. "EVERYBODY DUCK!"
Becker pulled Jenson back and fell on top of him. The blast roared, and a wave of heat flew over Becker.
"Is everyone OK?" he shouted after it had passed.
"Yeah!" said Hawkins. Rogers and Briggs shouted out as well. Skinner had ducked underneath his desk.
"Is Jenson alright?" shouted Briggs.
Becker was checking the young soldier's pulse. "He's still hanging on, but only barely. We need to get him to a hospital. Rogers, how's your arm?"
"It's actually not that bad…" she said, before collapsing.
…
They bandaged Rogers' arm, but she was still unconscious. She needed medical attention. Skinner told them that this 'facility' had a medical wing, and he'd take them there, but without all the guns. Becker insisted on taking the weapons along, and only using them if they were under threat. Skinner reluctantly agreed. First, he told them all to take a pale pink pill. Becker refused outright. Skinner insisted on their harmlessness, and told them their use – to disinfect the system of any unfamiliar pathogens. He even took one himself to prove its safety. Becker yielded, impatient to get the soldiers some medical attention. Briggs and Hawkins carried Jenson, and Becker and Skinner carried Rogers.
"So, how are you connected to Helen Cutter?" Becker asked the scientist as they walked through the corridors. The blast had wiped out the clones, but the surrounding walls, made of concrete, had received no real damage.
"I guess I don't have the right to remain silent, huh?" Skinner replied.
"I'm afraid not," Becker replied.
"Helen Cutter supplied us with the clones. She supplied us with the anomaly technology. And with it, Howard Rossiter built Land of Time. That's pretty much the whole of it."
They came upon a mass of animals in cages. Becker saw those wolf-like creatures they'd encountered at Christine's base, and a mass of dinosaurs. They were barking and growling and making all manner of sounds that Becker had no word for. Then, in the next compartment, peering through the door window, Becker saw more animals. These ones seemed ill.
"What's wrong with them?" he asked Skinner.
Skinner glanced towards the rifle hanging at Becker's side, and sighed. "They're infected with a prion disease, DX. We're keeping the infected animals isolated, together, in there, until we can find some kind of cure for them. As far as we can tell, it infects a host through its bloodstream. That means that mosquitoes can spread it from one host to another."
"Professor Skinner, is that you?" a man called from ahead of them. He came around a corner, and saw them. He was young, and blond.
"Don't move a muscle!" Becker said, shifting his rifle towards this second scientist. "Two of our soldiers are injured. They need medical attention. Please."
This scientist, one Kenneth Harper, led them to a very verbal and irritated woman called Doctor April Thorpe.
"What? Skinner, you can't possibly ask me to do this! They wiped out our entire security force!"
"They fired first," said Hawkins. "They shot Jenson in the back, like a coward."
"They cannot comprehend concepts like bravery or cowardice," she said. "Only rationality, and their orders." She said it in a way that seemed to show she disliked them.
"…What the hell are you talking about?" exclaimed Hawkins.
"Look, Doctor Thorpe, we were only defending ourselves," insisted Becker. "This is a rescue mission."
"Who are you rescuing?" she asked.
"Danny Quinn. We have reason to believe he came through that anomaly some time ago."
"Quinn?" Skinner said. "Yeah, he snuck through the anomaly from the Oligocene. We sent him to the park. He's there right now. Probably asleep in the hotel."
"Right… Thank you. That's really helpful."
"Wait…" Thorpe said. "Are you ARC?"
"Why?"
"We were told not to trust you people."
"What? Why? Helen?"
"How do you know her name?"
"Because she's a bloody madwoman who's tried to kill us all several times before, and we were the ones who stopped her!" exclaimed Hawkins.
"OK, now we know why we're all here," said Becker, "could you please save those soldiers?"
Thorpe finally yielded. She agreed to patch them up, as long as Becker vowed to go back through the anomaly as soon as she had. Skinner returned to his station briefly, claiming to need to lock the anomaly. Just in case, Becker sent Briggs with him.
While Thorpe operated on Jenson, and then Rogers, Becker took a look around the facility. Skinner assured him that DX affected only dinosaurs, so this seemed a safe place to explore. He found Quinn's bike beside the other vehicles, and checked out the labs where the thirteen scientists stationed there carried out their experiments. When Skinner returned, Becker asked him about the park he planned to come back to after he reached Britain again. Apparently, none of the creatures had yet bred as far as they knew, except one. One of the Pteranodon, giant flying reptiles, was heavily pregnant. Skinner also told Becker of worrying signs from the park. The power, which came from the anomaly at the facility, was no longer reaching the park for some reason. It seemed weird.
"So, where did this DX come from?" Hawkins asked.
"The InGen incident," Skinner replied. "I'm assuming you didn't get to hear Rossiter's speech at the opening ceremony?"
"We missed it," replied Becker.
"Decades ago, a company called InGen used advanced cloning techniques to revive dinosaurs. They had planned to create an amusement park full of them on a Pacific island called Isla Nublar. However, the dinosaurs escaped and they destroyed the park. In 1995, BioSyn, another genetics company, went back to check on the animals. The tiny Isla Nublar was devoid of any dinosaurs, but the larger, neighbouring Isla Sorna had retained a large ecosystem. However, more recently, a disease called DX, had ravaged the dinosaur population. The ecosystem, which was already very fragile, had collapsed. So, BioSyn resolved to save the remaining dinosaurs. They retrieved InGen's cloning technologies, but failed to make them work. Then, Helen Cutter showed up. And she showed us…" Skinner stopped. "I'm sorry, if I say any more, I'll lose my job."
"It's OK," said Becker. "But… you're still trying to cure DX, is that right?"
"Yes. Thorpe says she might have solved it, but she hasn't told me what her solution is. Most of the animals are from anomalies. Not all of the creatures on Sorna survived the ecosystem collapse."
"Which ones are Sorna?" Hawkins asked.
"The ones that were adaptable enough to survive. All the Procompsognathus, Othneilia, Hypsilophodon, and Microceratus; some Pachycephalosaurus, Dilophosaurus, Gallimimus, and the raptors. They're mostly here, though, not in the park. Only the…" He paused. "… the cured ones went to the park."
'Here' was a facility in downtown Miami. According to Skinner, BioSyn had grouped anomalies into this one building, away from the park, in order to more easily contain creatures that were brought back. Apparently, using magnetite, they could find anomalies around the world, contain them, and move them to the facility, so that all the anomalies they needed were on the same spot. She then used advanced electronic technology to forcibly open or close them, when needed. The opening and closing on a day-to-day basis was controlled from a computer, which Skinner called the console, at the facility.
Finally, Becker checked out the last room, the ward, accompanied by Skinner, Briggs and Hawkins. A stabilized Jenson lay on one bed. Another one was also occupied. Becker walked over to see the identity of the person.
"Oh, my God…" he whispered to himself. "Sarah Page!"
"Is something wrong?" Skinner asked.
"Yeah. What are you people doing with one of the ARC's employees?"
"Oh, is that who she was? One of our employees just found her alone in the Oligocene epoch."
"Really?" Becker said. He thought. "Could you give me a second?"
Becker rushed out to the exit of the facility. It certainly looked a lot like Miami. He could see congested streets, palm trees, and a bright sunrise. He took out his phone. Hawkins and Briggs quickly caught up with him. He dialed Lester's number. As it was now 1:00 p.m. in London; Lester was probably looking for him.
"Hilary Becker, where the hell are you?"
"Uh, yes sir, we've been slightly sidetracked. The good news is, we know where Danny Quinn is!"
"You know, there is a difference between knowing where he is and finding him!"
"We found another anomaly in the Oligocene. And it led to Land of Time."
"What, really? Have you found the others? I've been calling them since yesterday, and they haven't picked up."
"Well, we're actually across town from them at the minute."
"Then why the hell aren't you going after them?"
"Jenson and Rogers were injured in a shootout with Helen's clones," Becker told him. "Yes, she's involved. Surely you could have guessed, sir?"
Becker continued. "Sir, Sarah Page is here. Someone must have taken her here."
"What? Really? She checked out yesterday as per usual…"
"Some time after that someone must have kidnapped her. Or maybe someone just used her card. Any ideas?"
"No, but you did say Helen Cutter was involved. Her specialty seems to be unpredictable plans."
"That's right. OK, I've promised to leave through the anomaly as soon as Jenson and Rogers are better, but I'm working on a plan to get to the park. Perhaps I can use this to our benefit somehow."
"Good luck with that. Over and out."
Lester hung up.
"Sir, is you name Hilary?" Hawkins asked.

------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Thirty
The Breakout

Good judgment comes from experience. Experience comes from bad judgment. – Will Rogers

In the ceiling, there was a large trapdoor. It was hanging open, half off its hinges. It was easily large enough to fit a raptor through it. Leading up to it was a collapsible, metal staircase. This was the 'dead end'. And it was their best chance at escape.
Abby went first. She slowly climbed the staircase, checking all around herself for signs of predators. However, all she could see up on this floor was darkness, save for the light cast from the emergency lights below. That faint light did not illuminate much, but as she ascended, she could see the outline of a door up ahead. She wished she'd brought a torch down here.
She felt the staircase jitter slightly as Connor got onto it below her. "Abby," he whispered, "I think it's coming!"
Abby quickened her rate of climb, and stepped onto the floor. She approached the door. Now, she realized that it was slightly ajar. Connor ran up to meet her. "Come on, let's go!" he said.
Together, they stepped through the door, into the morning light of Florida. They had emerged onto a dip in ground level, like a mini valley, surrounded by higher ground. It was a small clearing of grass, encompassed by unkempt jungle that covered the rise of ground level and continued on as far as they could see from their low vantage point.
From inside the bunker, they heard a familiar reptilian growl.
"Connor," Abby asked, "Did you lift up the staircase?"
"Err…" Connor quickly grabbed the metal door, and slammed it shut. "OK… let's get out of here!"
Abby led the way as they ran for the jungle. They hit the rise. Connor skipped up without much trouble at all, but the storm last night had turned much of the rise to mud. Abby slipped on a muddy patch, and slid down again. She froze momentarily as she heard the metal door behind them get slammed by the raptor. She didn't look back. She knew what had happened. The door was obviously not up for that kind of strain. She struggled on the hillside to get a footing. Every time she put her foot down, it slid down and caused her to lose balance again.
Connor reached out his hand to her. She grabbed it, and as she fell flat on her stomach again, Connor pulled her up to muddy rise. She got back onto her feet, just as the door audibly clattered to the ground. She wouldn't look back. Together, they instinctively sprinted into the jungle.
After about a minute, they heard something call from the inner forest. It was another raptor. It was coming straight for them.
Then they heard another call, to their left. Then another to their right. They were surrounded.
Abby had an idea. She pushed Connor, and shoved him towards a nearby tree. It had a cage of roots at the base, which protected a large hollow area. The gap in the roots was big enough for them, but too small for something raptor-sized.
Connor took the hint, and crawled inside the root cage. Abby followed, and they crouched down, breathing slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible.
Outside, the raptors emerged outside their little safe spot. They seemed to greet each other, and together, they lay down on the ground – right outside their cage. They fell asleep blocking the only exit out of the tree roots.
Connor and Abby would have to wait.

"Come in," Jenny called.
Ian Malcolm came through the door. "Hi, are you busy?"
"No, did you want to talk about something?" Jenny replied from the top of the table.
"Yeah, I was wondering if I could ask you about this whole time-travel thing. You seem to know quite a bit about it…"
Jenny smirked. "Just a few months ago I was a PR girl with minimal knowledge of physics and no idea what this latest job offer was all about. Now I'm a time-travel expert."
Jenny was still in the drawing room, sitting at the head of a long table in the middle of the room.
Malcolm sat at the table, several seats down from her. "You're in PR?" he asked. "I…"
"Yeah. I'm supposed to be keeping this operation together, with minimal fuss. Now, Hemple's off leading some dangerous expedition to find weapons, Connor and Abby are God knows where, and Danny Quinn has appeared out of nowhere once again. But anyway, you wanted to know about the anomalies?"
"Yeah. I've been thinking about it, and somehow I can't seem to figure it out…"
"Well, Connor's the guy you need to ask about it."
"But you can still tell me the basics until he gets here, right?" The man seemed positively desperate to find out what all this meant.
"Right. Anomalies are like… wormholes in time. They allow creatures, or people, to go through them, into the past or the future. And they allow creatures to come through into our time. That's what we've been dealing with. The ARC. The Anomaly Research Centre, in London. We're preoccupied with trying to put the creatures back where they belong. But, now, Helen Cutter has given this Rossiter man the anomalies, and he's done the exact opposite. That's pretty much what I know."
There was another knock on the door. "Come in," Jenny said.
Redfern came through it. "Ma'am, Temple and Maitland are gone. I couldn't find them on the bottom floor. I searched every room, they're not there. But there was a trapdoor in the ceiling, and it was open. It went outside. They must have used it to get out. I couldn't see where they'd gone. I closed it, because, there were two dead raptors down there, and some kind of dead mammal."
"Then Rossiter lied," Jenny said, getting up.
The raptors had escaped, this proved it. What else had? If Redfern and Mason went after Abby and Connor, into the jungle, they would risk getting attacked too, and it would leave the bunker unprotected. If one of them stayed, that left the other one hugely vulnerable, by himself. And Hemple, Danny and the others were in danger, now that the raptors were out. She had no idea what to do.
"Wait," Malcolm said. "If he lied before, he'll lie again. We should wait 'til your captain gets back. Then we can get answers out of him."
The lights went out. The red hue cast by the sunrise was now all that illuminated them. The generator had run out.

After half an hour, the raptors finally woke up. Connor was asleep. Abby had managed to stay awake, to see them leave. Once they were gone, she whispered to Connor. "Get up!"
Connor was slouched half over her in the cramped root cave, and he wasn't waking up.
Abby elbowed him in the side. He woke with a jerk and a snort. "What happened?"
"They're gone. We have to go. Now."
"OK!" They crawled through the gap, and emerged once again. It was much brighter now than before. And it was calm. The storm had long passed. The ground was still slippery, though. "Right… which way did we come from?" Connor asked.
"I… can't remember," Abby said.
"…OK, I think it was this way."
Half an hour later, it became clear that it wasn't the right way. The jungle around them was largely empty, but every now and then, they had noticed animals in the trees that looked like nothing 21st Century. Connor called them "Othneilia." They made a strange sound with their beak that sounded almost like a dawn chorus through the forest.
A thunderous roar echoed through the forest. It wasn't a raptor this time. It was different. And it was close.
Abby looked to Connor. He made a face at her that said, "Oh, please not again!"
Abby nodded. Visibly reluctant, Connor followed her in running through the trees.

They soon reached a muddy trackway, used by the vehicles and the guests. Abby ran ahead, looking back to Connor every now and then to make sure he was still there, but Connor struggled to keep up. Eventually, she disappeared around the sharp corner, and Connor never spotted her again.
Then, he slipped straight off his feet. He fell down a roadside ditch, hidden before by thick bushes. He hit the wet ground face-first. The roar sounded again. Connor had to get out.
Then he heard splashes up above. Like footprints in the mud. It was going straight past him.
He held his breath.
He froze for sheer seconds on end.
And it passed.
He climbed up onto the road again, and looked around. There was nothing there. Then he looked at the ground. There were big paw prints in the mud. The creature was following Abby.

"AH!" Danny jerked from his slumber. Hemple was crouching beside him, his hand on Danny's arm.
"Are you OK? It didn't look like you were sleeping well."
"Yeah," Danny said, "I'm fine. What time is it?"
"6:30," Campbell told him, standing at the open door. Light was now flooding into the concrete bunker.
Danny looked around at the others. "Did no-one else sleep?"
"No, can't," said Doody.
"Well, let's go then," Danny said. "We're not doing any good sitting here…"
Together, they left the cache, and stepped out into the sunlight.
He quickly ducked, and dropped to the ground. A gigantic pterosaur, a Pteranodon, flew over his head. Danny rose again, and saw six more follow it, over the park walls, and towards Miami city centre.
"Fantastic…" Campbell said.

---------------------------------------------------

Chapter Thirty-One
The Shape of Things to Come

The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don't have any. – Alice Walker

Harlan and Mike had the night watch. They had little choice – they were apparently the only security guards hired so far. Although, Harlan had a theory that they had some extra security guards in secret.
It was a creepy place to stay at night. At least the storm had stopped.
They were at the security gates. Outside, people were camped out, in tents and sleeping bags, waiting to be allowed in the next day. Many of the sleeping bags were now empty, abandoned by people who had decided that the tickets were simply not worth sleeping out under a tropical thunderstorm. Only the most desperate were still in sleeping bags.
Harlan and Mike had spent the night inside their security posts, but Harlan had got out to stretch his legs and try to keep awake. The noises of the jungle had kept him from falling asleep, and now it was too bright. Harlan checked his watch – 6:34 in the morning. Within the next four hours, the park would be opened again.
This was one of his more peaceful jobs of recent years. It was basically just a theme park, and all he'd had to deal with was people who wanted to get in for free. That hadn't been much of a challenge. Compared to other jobs – guarding banks, Senators and even the President once – this was a walk in the park. Howard Rossiter had contacted him eight months ago, and offered him a job.
Something caught his eye in the jungle. Something was glinting in the undergrowth, several yards in. He went to take a look. Harlan took out his keys and opened a gate that led past the post-and-rope fence, into the forest. He pushed past branches and thorn bushes, eventually reaching the glinting object. It was one of the keepers' name badges. It said "O'Donnell". It was attached to a piece of ripped, beige cloth, and it was spattered with blood.
He heard Mike shout from the security post. Harlan ran back through the forest to the gate. He could see Mike get out of the security box and start running, but he couldn't see what Mike was running from. He went through the opening and walked onto the middle of the road. Then he did.
It was one of the giant birds. It towered above Mike. With two massive strides and a swing of its giant, hook-like beak, it caught Mike and pulled him into the air. With the guard still struggling in its beak, it flung him to the ground, and placed one of its huge talons on his back. It lowered its beak, and broke his neck. It picked up his body, and dragged it through the open gate and into the forest. Then it noticed Harlan.
It walked out and approached him. Sickened, Harlan raised his rifle at the monster. His hands were shaking. As it started to approach him, he pushed down on the trigger. His aim was off; he fired into mid air. The bird was barely startled. He strode out toward Harlan and bit down on his outstretched arms. Harlan bellowed with pain and let go. He fell backwards onto the muddy road. The bird swung his gun around in the air before dropping it to inspect it. Harlan took this opportunity to get off the ground and escape. As he ran towards the lodge, he could hear the bird chasing him, its feet splattering the mud with each step. He finally reached the wooden lodge-come-visitor-centre, and banged against the closed door. Keeper McCoy was inside, visible through the windows.
"Ford? Why aren't you…" She noticed something behind Harlan. She quickly unlocked the door, and pulled him through, before locking it again. "Why the hell are the sabre-tooths out?"
"Sabre-tooths? It was the terror-bird!" Harlan exclaimed. He approached the window, and there it was. A sabre-tooth, pacing around the garden and courtyard. The bird was gone.
"The Kelenken's out too? Dammit…" She grabbed her rifle.
"Why isn't it coming through?" Harlan asked. "The window won't hold against that… beast…"
"I think it's the rifle. She won't go near it. She's a docile one, her. Well, considering."
The cat took one last look through the window at them, before pacing over to lie underneath one of the canopies.
"So, where's Mike? And what about the people at the gates?" she asked.
"It killed Mike. And the guests… I, I don't know…" Harlan saw the sabre-tooth perk up, as if it'd heard something. Then, it rose to its feet and watched as more than a dozen people ran through the courtyard from the direction of the security gates. The campers must have been woken up by the fight, and climbed over the gates without guards on watch. They were running and screaming, and for good reason. The bird was following them. Shortly after striding into view, it grabbed the runner who was furthest behind the rest, and quickly decapitated him. The people started to flock to the various buildings, only to find most of them locked. Only the ones who came to the visitor centre, where Harlan and McCoy were now standing, found safety. They bustled through the doorway, and once they were all in, McCoy went out to take down the predators.
She strode out into the middle of the garden, quickly raised her rifle and shot the sabre-tooth with a dart. It roared, and ran out of the courtyard, and disappeared into the jungle. The terror-bird looked less happy to just run away. It walked towards her. She shot it, but it merely cawed with irritation, like some demonic raven. It swung its huge skull, like a mace, at the keeper and completely lifted her off her feet. She fell into one of the boxwood bushes, still conscious, but she'd dropped her rifle.
Harlan looked around for a weapon, but there was none inside the reception. Then, he heard a jeep drive towards them from the deeper park. It caught the attention of the bird. A man got out of the car. He was tall and thin, and had thick, blonde hair. It was Keeper Scott. The bird went for him, and he quickly shot it with two more darts. The terror-bird stumbled slightly, and then fell.
Scott rushed over to join McCoy, and together they went back inside the lodge.
There were seventeen people inside the reception now, including Harlan, Scott and McCoy. The noise of the traumatized people would soon wake most of the sleeping guests inside.
"How many people are in here?" Scott asked.
"Nearly all of the guests," McCoy replied. "None of the visitors left at the end of the day, so they're nearly all here."
"Nearly all?" Scott repeated.
"Well, there were thirteen guests left. They were the ones that Rossiter marked off."
"Marked off?" Harlan asked. "What does that mean?"
"Rossiter told the keepers to contact him if any of those thirteen guests entered the lodge. Alan Grant, Ian Malcolm, Jennifer Lewis, Connor Temple, Abby Maitland, Danny Quinn, someone Levine… I can't remember the rest of them. But none of those people are here. They're the only missing guests. Well, Campbell's taken Quinn down to the central complex. He says that he had something to do with the scorpion breakout."
"What about the other keepers?" Scott asked.
"None of them answering their walkies. Including you!" she answered.
"Me? I… Oh, yeah, I guess I turned it off." Scott took out his walkie and checked it. "Yep, sorry. Did you guys get some sort of alarm?"
"No, nothing. They just showed up from nowhere."
"Right, let's barricade the door. And the windows."
"Where were you, anyway?" McCoy asked, as she helped him lodge the door shut with a chair.
"I was up by the Camarasaurs," he answered. "The power's out all across the park. There'll be more creatures soon."
"God…" she said. "Did you check out the weapons cache?"
"Yeah…" He paused. "It was empty," he said.
"What?" McCoy asked.
Before Scott could answer, they heard a familiar voice. "What's going on?" It was the receptionist, Brian Lambert. He must have spent the night in the hotel. "Guys?"
One of the break-ins screamed. She was standing right at the barely protected window. The window came crashing down on her, followed closely by a huge cat. The sabre-tooth landed on her, and let out an almighty roar. This was a different cat. It was larger than the first, and had a patch out of its right ear. People screamed and shouted, and struggled around each other the get to the door. Amid the tidal wave of people, Harlan and the keepers were unable to push past to get to the injured woman.
"Don't go outside!" shouted Scott. But it was too late. Screams and cries erupted again, accompanied by new roars and bellows. Scott recognized them instantly. "The Hyaenodonts!"
Harlan was pushed to the ground by the unexpected reversal of the push of the people. He dropped his firearm. More guests were waking up. More were screaming. The sabre-tooth jumped straight through the mass of people, and landed its paw on top of Harlan. He called out with the pain of such pressure. McCoy reached out a hand to him, and he accepted it quickly. Scott shot the cat at short range. It squealed, and turned about, lifting itself off Harlan as he pulled himself off the floor again.
A gigantic, rhino-sized wolf came belting through the empty window frame, and knocked several people to the ground. Behind it, another terror-bird peered in with its long neck. In the small space of the reception, The Hyaenodon and the sabre-tooth began on each other. The wolf slashed its minor sabres at the cat, which countered by launching onto the back of this bigger animal, and slashing at it with its claws.
Harlan and the keepers escaped with the creatures locked in combat. They first decided to get the guests out. There was another exit at the other end of the building, where they could make a break for the better-protected complex. They ran down the narrow corridor of the accommodation block. There were rooms on either side, many of them now open, their occupants running up and down the corridor in a panic. Further down the corridor, a red-haired man in a pinstripe suit and a blue tie got up off the floor. In front of him, Brian was standing up against the wall, his face pale, his mouth open.
Something knocked Harlan's back. He turned to see the giant terror-bird squeezing between the walls, beak reaching out at him.
It grabbed his leg. It pulled. He fell onto his side on the wooden floor. McCoy and Scott grabbed his torso. Harlan became the rope in a painful tug-of-war. "Brian, help!" McCoy called. After a few moments, Harlan felt a third pair of hands pulling him out of the bird's grasp. Finally, Scott was able to let go. He reloaded his rifle and shot at the bird several times. Eventually, it collapsed. Harlan stood up again, and saw the sabre-tooth jump over the bird's body and floor the red-haired man with one swipe of its paw. It then set upon him.
"Let's go!" McCoy shouted. The four of them ran down towards the emergency exit. They turned a corner. There was the emergency exit. And in front of it, blocking it entirely, was a giant scorpion. It turned to face them.
Something bashed the side of Harlan's head. It sent him flying against the opposite wall. He slumped to the floor, his head spinning. He reached a hand up to the side of his face. It was bleeding. He looked up at whatever had hit him.
The whole wall was gone. And towering over the wrecked wood and steel was a monster bigger than all the others. A huge, tooth-filled mouth bore down on him.

"AHHH!" Brian shouted.
The Gorgonopsid had got Ford. They were now surrounded.
McCoy opened a door, into one of the hotel rooms. Scott followed, pulling a speechless Brian with him. A young blonde woman was sitting on her bed, unmoving. She was fully dressed. "What's happening?" she asked them.
She screamed as the giant scorpion peeked in behind them, and raised its many appendages in aggression. It twisted its shelled body to get through the doorway.
Scott rushed to the window. He drew out the curtains, lifted a chair and threw it through, breaking the glass and providing an escape route. McCoy grabbed the woman's arm and, without much encouragement, she climbed through. As the scorpion climbed in, Brian jumped out after her, and McCoy followed. She looked back to see Scott shoot at it, but the dart just bounced right off. He ran after her, and led them to his jeep.
McCoy spoke into her walkie. "Come in! Anyone! Keeper Amy McCoy calling for backup at the visitor centre." They emerged onto the central courtyard. The Gorgonopsid was destroying the wooden lodge. "Scott, how many darts do you have left?"
"Nothing. It's all gone. We can't do anything."
"Well, we can't just leave them."
Then she realized - there was no-one else in the courtyard. They four were the only survivors.
Scott ran to his jeep, and ignited the engine. Brian and the blonde woman got on behind. McCoy stood at the vehicle.
"Amy, come on!" Scott shouted. "We have to get back to the lodge! We can't do anything until we find help!"
The scorpion reappeared around the corner, right behind her. Reluctantly, she got on.
"Seatbelts on everyone," Scott said, "it's gonna be rough."
He floored the engine, and they drove away. The scorpion tried to climb onto the bonnet, but fell off onto its carapace. They sped off towards the inner park.

----------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Thirty-Two
Take a Look at the Lawman

If the wind will not serve, take to the oars. – Latin Proverb

"Same again."
The be-stubbled gentleman slid the glass back down the bar, and the tender refilled it. Ketterman took out his wallet. He only had enough for this last drink. He paid the barman, and downed the glass in one go.
"We're closing up," the barman informed him. Ketterman realised that he was the only person left in the establishment. He pushed himself off the stool and walked slowly outside.
The storm was heavier than ever. It must have been some Atlantic front, only a very sudden one. The traffic had calmed somewhat, and was almost back to normal.
Ketterman made his way back to his apartment, and fell on the bed. He was asleep in less than a minute.
He awoke some time later. There was a figure looming over him, but he couldn't focus on it. The figure reached down and pulled Ketterman up by his neck.
"Douglas Nathaniel Ketterman?" the figure – recognisably male – asked. Without waiting for an answer, the dark-haired, clean-shaven man raised a gun, with his free hand, at Ketterman. "You're under arrest!"
Becker brought Ketterman to the facility for interrogation. The soldier dropped Ketterman down on a chair beside a note-covered table. The struggling Ketterman tossed some of the notes to the floor.
"Watch those!" Doctor Thorpe instructed, before picking them up and setting them back on the desk in an orderly pile.
Looming over Ketterman, Becker commenced his interrogation. "Where did you find that woman?"
"Which woman?" Ketterman asked. He repositioned himself on the chair so that he was now sitting comfortably, and upright. He looked down, and rubbed his forehead. "Oh!" he said, lighting up. "If you're talking about who I think you are, I found her on the other side of the anomaly. She must have been lost. God knows where she was from. Or when."
"She's from the ARC," Becker said. "Skinner's heard of us, so I'm presuming you have. She was one of our researchers."
Ketterman asked the obvious question. "Then what was she doing through an anomaly?"
"I was hoping you would tell me," Becker said.
"Listen, I don't know why you're…"
"What do you do for Helen Cutter?" Becker pressed.
"I'm one of her scouts. I was making sure we hadn't left anything behind after our last mission. We were extracting a few final megafauna to complete the park." Ketterman paused. "How do you know my name? Or where I live?"
"Your professor told us."
Ketterman stared over at Skinner, who looked away. "Aw what the hell, Archie?"
"Don't call me that!" Skinner told him, before walking into the next lab.
Becker paused, looking Ketterman up and down. Then he turned to Corporal Briggs. "Tie him up."
"Wait, what?" Ketterman protested. "Who are you people? Let go of me…"
Becker walked away from Ketterman and into the nearby lab. He approached Skinner, who was looking into a microscope. "Is he telling the truth?"
Skinner looked up, and sighed. "As far as I know. It's what Helen told me, anyway."
"Do you trust him?" Becker asked.
"I don't know. But there's something I don't understand. Why did you go on this mission through an anomaly, to an unknown time-zone, just to save one guy?"
Becker thought about that. "Let's just say I owe him."
"Right…" Skinner said. "And what about your team? They all look very young. Why did you take them?"
"They were all I was afforded," Becker said, unwilling to tell Skinner why that was. "And they're good soldiers anyway. They show promise. I wouldn't have recruited them otherwise. Actually, I was wondering something as well. Why are you helping us so much?"
"Because… I guess I just don't trust this operation anymore. All the secrecy, the covert operations. And… well, there's something else. Something happened. Something went wrong."
"Something like what?" Becker asked.
"We've lost communication with the park. Telephone, radio, we're getting nothing. And this is the park's main source of power. We've harnessed the anomaly's magnetic properties, and that powers pretty much everything in the park. Including the fences. Now, the computers are telling us that the power isn't being used. If there was a power-cut… It would be a catastrophe."
It took Becker a minute to take that in.
"Sir!" Hawkins peered in through the door. "Page is awake."
Hawkins led Becker and Skinner to the medical wing, where Sarah was sitting up in her bed, looking around the room. Then she noticed Becker.
"Becker! Where are we?"
Becker, Skinner and Hawkins walked over to her bedside. "We're in Miami. At some facility. It's for that park."
"But… how did we get here…"
"I don't know, apparently someone found you in the past," Hawkins told her.
"No, I… Oh God…" She started panicking, and looking around the room.
"What?" Becker asked. "What happened?"

Briggs was standing, rifle in his hand, pointing it in Ketterman's direction. He was gazing at the wall, which was covered in notes and detailed maps, which he presumed to be of prehistoric anomaly sites. Thorpe had since retired to one of the labs.
He heard footsteps, and looked up in their direction. The steps were marching quickly towards them, from the medical wing. It was Becker, followed by Skinner and Hawkins. Becker made a beeline to Ketterman, tied to the chair.
Becker pointed his rifle at Ketterman, and stopped just a few feet from the chair. "Who are you?"
Ketterman looked up at him. "Douglas Nathaniel Ketterman."
"I just had a word with Doctor Page. The woman you kidnapped, with a syringe to the neck. So tell me, Douglas, what kind of scout are you?"
"That girl? Is she awake? Is she OK?"
"She's fine now."
"I'm sorry, but she must be delirious. I just found her."
Becker grabbed his neck. "I rang my boss. Back in London. He said that Sarah never checked out of our base. No one saw her leave."
"What, just wait and let go of me!"
Becker hesitated, and let go of Ketterman's neck. "I've wasted enough time here already." He turned to Hawkins and Briggs. "Skinner tells me something went wrong at the park. He thinks it's a power-cut. Whatever it is, I'm going over there. I want you two to stay in charge here. I'll see you in a few hours."

Becker hurried over to one of the holding pens. Leaning outside was Quinn's bike. It would be the quickest way to get through the city.
XXXX
Connor wandered down the road. He was too exhausted to concentrate on his steps. He missed one, and came crashing to the ground, face-first into the mud. He could barely bring himself to push off the ground; he just wanted to lie there.
His sleep-denied mind was just going around and round in circles, with regular stops at self-deprecation and doubt. He'd followed this path, in Abby's wake, for what must have at least been an hour, but he couldn't quite tell. The storm still raging overhead had turned the path into a powerful torrent, now splashing at his brow, as well as darkening the sky so that it might as well have been night.
He still hadn't caught up to her.
Remembering that, Connor grunted and pushed himself up. Resting on his knees, he wiped his face, and then returned to his feet. He had to keep going.
As he started walking again, his thoughts returned to one particular sore point; one which he'd tried and failed at shaking this past hour.
What if all this was his fault? He'd been at that computer when it happened. He was tinkering with system files when the power went out. Had he accidentally tripped some sort of booby trap? Or tampered with the wrong file? Connor wished he could get back at that computer to find out what he'd done; it was the not-knowing that was driving him mad.
Connor froze as he heard something in the distance. It was some sort of constant noise, like a car engine. And then he heard the splashes of the wheels. It was coming towards him.
"Abby," he murmured. Then he noticed a red tint at the top-left of his field of vision. He reached up and touched his forehead. He stopped when he felt a sharp pain. He looked at the hand. There was blood.
He'd fallen a little harder than he thought.
Just as a jeep rolled into view up ahead, Connor fell to his knees. His vision was fading. In front of him, the jeep stopped and someone stepped out of it, running towards him. Connor collapsed onto the muddy track-way.
He felt someone roll him over to face them. He couldn't quite tell with his vision clouding over, but it looked like a woman, with blonde hair.
"Abby," he repeated, before losing consciousness.

McCoy watched the unknown man's eyes close. "Sir? Hello?"
"Who is it?" Vincent Scott asked. "Is he OK? He looked wounded."
"He has a small gash on his forehead," she answered. "Help me get him up."
The two keepers loaded the black-haired man onto the back of the jeep, while Brian, the receptionist, and Maria, one of the guests, stood outside. They both still seemed to be in a state of shock. They were both shivering from the cold rain pouring down. They were the civilians in this situation.
"You two," Vincent looked to the two 'civilians'. "Could you get in the front, and drive? Keeper McCoy and I need to take care of this man."
"OK," Brian answered. "Is he going to be alright?"
"Yes of course he is," Vincent told him. He and McCoy got on the back of the jeep and set about tending to this man's gash. Vincent looked to Brian, now in the driver's seat. "Now drive."

----------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Thirty-Three
Who Dares Wins

Jesus only told half the story.
The truth 'will' set you free.
But, first it's going to piss you off.
– Solomon Short

The rain kept on pouring. The sheet of falling water severely limited Abby's field of vision. But she had to keep on running. Something was following her. She wasn't so sure before, but now she knew it. She could sense it – the occasional deep breath, or maybe just changes in the light. She couldn't tell what it was, just that it was there.
She'd lost Connor at least an hour ago, but she couldn't even afford to look back. She was absolutely exhausted. She'd rested momentarily, but was feeling the strain.
Then, salvation.
She emerged onto a courtyard, bordered by a garden. She recognised it as the one outside the visitor centre. She didn't slow down, and ran to where she remembered the building had been. But the building was gone.
All that remained in place of the large structure was a set of ruins. Most of the concrete was intact, but the wood was all either torn apart or gone altogether. The roof and all of the upper level were gone, collapsed on the ground floor. And Abby picked up the unmistakeable stench of death. She could see blood, torn limbs, and the occasional corpse.
She slowed down to a jog. A few yards from where the door had been, in the middle of the torn-up garden, she stopped and threw up.
She looked around herself, and sighed with relief to see no creatures nearby. She couldn't hear anything either, but she decided not to stay long anyway.
There was something she didn't really understand. From what she could tell, the damage was recent. More than one creature did this, so where did they all go? There was still plenty of fresh… she shuddered. They must have been scared off. It had to have been something big. Very big.
Abby heard a growl in the distance. Something was coming down the muddy track in her direction.
Abby sprinted to the car-park. She needed some kind of vehicle if she was to survive much longer. Most of the cars were keeled over, smoking, destroyed. Just one seemed intact, a blue Mini Cooper. It was her best bet.
She jumped into the driver's seat, slammed the door shut, and searched for the key. She hoped that the owner had left the key in the actual car. It had to be around somewhere, or she was stuck here. She fumbled about in the glove compartment, the dashboard, and reached back into the back seats, but she couldn't find it. She pulled back into the front, and glanced out of the windscreen.
She could just about make out a dark shape in the distance. It must have been twenty yards away. It started to approach the car. Abby stared straight at it. And she refused to run.
Abby frantically resumed her search, trying everywhere. The creature got closer. Abby couldn't find the key. She thumped the door with frustration. The mirror fell out of the ceiling, and a silvery object fell onto Abby's lap. It was a key. Abby almost laughed out loud with relief. The creature started to gallop. It was only seconds away. Abby put the key in the ignition and heard the sweet sound of the engine purring into life. The creature launched itself off the ground. Abby snapped into reverse gear. The creature's massive arms and claws neared the windscreen. Its eyes bore into her. She returned the gaze. Abby floored the accelerator pedal. The creature landed on the bonnet, one paw on the roof, just as the car moved away. Abby steered hard, right-hand down. The creature slid off the bonnet, leaving a massive dent. The creature – Abby recognised it as a big sabre-tooth cat – rolled over in the mud before righting itself. The mud soon washed off it in the pouring rain. It looked straight at Abby and let out a powerful roar.
Abby changed gear and accelerated forward. She had a quick moral dilemma – should she head for the exit, and try to secure rescue for the park, which would risk leading the cat out to the public? Or should she return to the bunker, and wait for rescue to come in its own time?
On the spur of the moment, she headed back the way she'd come.
The wipers only just kept the windscreen usable. The back window was covered with splashed mud, so she had to rely on the wing-mirrors to show her the sabre-tooth's progress. It was close.
Abby saw the fencing and turned just in time to make the corner. The Mini went into a slide. In the wing-mirror, Abby saw the cat launch onto the back of the car. The force of this cast the back-end around even more, causing a renewed tailspin. The car shook again, before the back-end lifted back up. The cat must have fallen off again.
Abby floored the brake-pedal and stopped the car, before speeding off again while the cat was presumably off its feet.
She survived the next few bends and junctions, but failed to lose the predator.
Abby saw a wall ahead. She needed to turn, quickly. She steered hard right. She nearly made it. Then, the whole car lurched sideways as the cat bashed into the side. The car banged into the wall. Glass broke. Metal bent. Airbags deployed. Abby's vision went dark.
…
The cat dismounted the boot-lid, and made his way to the driver's door to inspect his prey. He sniffed at the girl's unconscious body. He was hungry.
The sound of a trumpet distracted the cat from the car.
A massive pair of tusks loomed over the predator. They belonged to the matriarch of the mammoth herd, standing over the car and the remains of the enclosure's perimeter wall. She trumpeted loudly and aggressively at the cat. The sabre-tooth backed down, and fled back into the park.
XXXX
"Whuh… where am I?" Connor mumbled as his vision slowly returned. He could feel that whatever he was lying on was moving. He guessed that he was in a car. He was wrapped up in a blanket, and felt a pain in his forehead.
A woman leaned over him. "You're OK," she said. "I dressed your wound, but we need to get you to proper medical help. We're trying to drive to the bunker. It's protected, and our best chance of getting help."
Connor thought. "What about the exit?" he asked.
"The only route is… overrun."
"But… what if they get out?"
The woman looked into his eyes. She opened her mouth, but she didn't answer.
The vehicle lurched to a halt. The woman turned away from Connor. "What happened?" she asked.
"There's another jeep on the road!" came the reply. It was a voice Connor recognised… It was Brian, the receptionist. He'd survived.
The woman left Connor's side. Connor heard a door open and close. He pushed himself up, and looked around. The rain was still pouring down from the sky, but the clouds were finally clearing. The storm was finally passing. The slightly downhill track-way was still a muddy torrent. He was sat in the back of a jeep. Brian, in the driver's seat, and a blonde woman in the front-passenger seat, remained in the vehicle, while two people in park-keeper uniforms ran over to another jeep, which had been crashed into the fencing of an enclosure. As far as Connor could remember, it was the raptor enclosure. The fences would have been electrified. Now, they were bent and broken.
"The fences are down!" shouted one of the keepers, his voice male.
…
Keepers Scott and McCoy approached the jeep. McCoy wondered which of their colleagues had bit the dust here. She prepared herself for what might lie inside.
But it was empty.
The front-seats were heavily stained with blood, and gore. McCoy raised the back of her hand to her nose, but the rain drowned out most foul smells anyway.
McCoy noticed that the left-hand glove-compartment was open. She reached in and looked around for some sort of identification. She pulled out a note of paper.
McCoy looked to Scott. "It's Sandra's handwriting."
"What does it say?" Scott asked.
…
The keepers returned to the jeep, on either side of Connor.
"You said there was a note?" Connor mentioned. "What did it say?"
The keepers refused to acknowledge the question. The man spoke to Brian. "Drive to the bunker, as quickly as possible.
As Brian followed his orders, Connor repeated himself. "What did it say?"
They remained silent.
Connor looked straight at the woman, who was looking down at her shoes. "Look, my name is Connor Temple. I'm with the Anomaly Research Centre. We know what's going on here. Kind of. We're gonna be the people to sort out this… mess. So I'm your best bet. So tell me. What did it say?"
The woman looked straight up at Connor. She seemed to believe him. She pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket and handed it to him. "It's from the jeep." She seemed to have tears in her eyes.
Connor took the note and opened it, while trying to keep it dry. He read it.
The megamyotids are breeding
Connor looked up at the woman. "The future predators?"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Thirty-Four
Dishonourable People

One of the common failings among honorable people is a failure to appreciate how thoroughly dishonorable some other people can be, and how dangerous it is to trust them.
– Thomas Sowell, writer and economist.

The yellowish emergency lights flickered on at last.
Lieutenant Redfern had found oil cans down in the basement while looking for Connor and Abby, and had now successfully got the generator going again.
"Thank goodness," Jenny said. She and Malcolm were still in the drawing room. She went over to turn off the lights. "Best to conserve what power we do have."

The next hour passed slowly. Agonizingly so. She and Malcolm talked intermittently, mainly about temporal physics due to Malcolm's persistent questioning. It felt like an interrogation. For the first time in the trip, Jenny felt herself really wishing Connor was here.
Finally, a noise of several heavy footfalls signaled the return of Hemple's squad. Jenny took the excuse to escape Malcolm's curiosity and went out to meet them. She was joined in the corridor by Levine, Redfern, and Grant poking out from Rossiter's office. Mason led the mismatched squad down towards them. While six had left several hours ago, there were now four. And there was a noticeable lack of the aforementioned 'heavy weaponry'.
"Where's Garney? And Murdoch?" she asked them. She failed to keep her concern – and lack of sleep – from showing through her tone of voice.
"Can we go in here, first?" Hemple said, motioning to the drawing room. Jenny obliged, and Hemple walked inside, greeting Malcolm on the way in. The rest of them followed, including Grant and, behind him, Rossiter. Hemple noticed, sighed and ignored him. He sat down on one of the chairs, and Rossiter, Doody, Danny, Campbell, Levine, Grant and Jenny did the same. Mason and Redfern stood at the doorway.
After a momentary pause, Hemple began.
"We were attacked. The raptors got out. At least four."
"There was a pack of ten in the enclosure," Keeper Campbell said. "And if one of them found a way out, all of them did."
"Sir," Redfern said, "the raptors got into the basement. There was a separate way in, through a trapdoor. Temple and Maitland went down to the basement to find fuel for the backup generator, but they must have been attacked. I couldn't find them, but there were a couple of dead raptors. Temple and Maitland must have got out the same way those got in."
"Another way in?" asked Rossiter, incredulously. "There is no other way in, I'm sure of it."
Hemple ignored Rossiter. "You closed it off, right?"
"Of course, sir," Redfern replied. "There was also some kind of small, dead mammal thing. It looked like a bat or something…"
"A Gremlin," Campbell said.
"Aopatovuxia," Rossiter corrected.
"Yeah, well everyone else in the park calls it a gremlin," the keeper said.
"And," Hemple said, clearly wanting to get back on track, "the weapons cache was empty."
"Excuse me?" Rossiter said. "Empty?"
"You heard him right." Campbell told him. "The cache was empty. Someone stole them."
"I have nothing to do with this!" Rossiter exclaimed. "I've been here for the past three-and-a-half hours! Why would I purposely sabotage my own park?"
"Then who do you suppose it was?" Jenny asked.
"Do you really have to ask, Jenny?" said Hemple.
"Helen," said Danny. "Definitely."
"Why do you say that?" Grant asked.
"Err… just… you know, seems like something she would do," Danny said.
"Wait a second, you only just met Helen yesterday!" Jenny said.
"Weren't you the one who let the scorpion out?" Rossiter asked.
"No!" Danny shouted. "It was one of those mercenaries… In fact, there's a good point. Why the hell does this place have armed mercenaries trying to kill me?"
This time everyone looked to Rossiter.
"That was Helen's choice, not mine," he said. "She saw you all as a threat. Best to take you here to have a proper discussion before you went to the press."
"Is it just me, or were they all identical?" asked Danny.
"Yeah, attack us with darts and cloned men to have a 'proper discussion'," Hemple paraphrased. "Makes perfect sense."
"Helen's style," Rossiter replied.
"He's right," Jenny said. "This isn't the first time I've been held hostage by Helen Cutter. It's not even the second."
"I'd be very interested in having a talk with Helen," Hemple said to Rossiter. "Any chance of a rendez-vous?" His slightly patronizing tone of voice was now constant whenever he addressed Rossiter.
"Helen was going to take care of business," Rossiter told him.
"What sort of business?" Hemple asked.
"About the animals."
"What about the animals?"
"Nothing, just…"
"Are they sick?"
"No!"
"Then what? Dangerous?"
"No, that's not…"
"Then what?"
"I don't know! She didn't say."
Hemple finally breathed. "Helen Cutter: Prime Suspect for the BioSyn Disaster."
"It's not a disaster…" Rossiter said.
"Oh, one more thing," Hemple said. "The Pteranodon are out."
"Well, that's not so…"
"I mean out, full stop. Out of the park. Probably in the city by now. And there's not one bloody thing we can do about that."
Hemple stood outside the door. "Redfern," he said. "Show me this trapdoor." Redfern followed him out of the drawing room.
Mason stepped out to resume his patrol. Malcolm, who had not said a word throughout the meeting, finally spoke. "Who did you lose?"
Doody sighed. "Garney and Murdoch. Well, Murdoch's missing. We lost him the chaos."
"And Garney?" Jenny asked. "Couldn't you have just lost him in the jungle?"
Doody swallowed. "No, he was definitely dead." The medic stood up and left the room.
There was an uncomfortable silence in the room. Malcolm stood up from the table. "Grant, I can take the next shift with Rossiter."
"No, I'll do it," Campbell said. "Is that OK?"
"Sure," Malcolm said. He sat down again.
Rossiter obediently followed his new watcher back to his office.
Jenny turned to Danny, sitting next to her, and whispered, "You didn't really let the scorpion out, did you?"
"No," Danny replied.
"OK."

"Sit down," Campbell ordered. Rossiter did as he was told, and sat on the swivel chair, and rolled it behind his desk. Campbell closed the door of the office.
"Would you like to sit down?" Rossiter asked.
"No, I'll stay standing."
"How bad is it out there?" Rossiter asked.
"I didn't get to see much. The raptors, they… They ambushed us. They were hungry." He looked at Rossiter.
"So you've found another reason to blame this all on me?"
"Well, it was your idea to have a starve-day today."
"How was I supposed to know there would be a catastrophic power failure, today of all days?"
"Well, it certainly seems as if Cutter was planning it! In fact all the evidence looks pretty conclusive."
"Why would Helen try to destroy a park she spent five years creating, before it even makes a profit?"
Campbell didn't have an answer.
"I mean, as Malcolm told me, it was you who brought in the man who was clearly responsible for the escape of the scorpions. The same man who seemed rather eager to get his hands on those weapons."
"His name was Quinn."
"Yes. I wasn't going to tell you this, but the situation has changed. Our scientists found him snooping around the facility, while they were working on our DX cure."
"What? Why wasn't I told about this?"
"As it turns out, he retrieved vital information about the park, and said he was ready to go the press about it. About how we hadn't cured DX. Helen considered taking him in for questioning, but we couldn't keep him locked up forever. We decided to allow him to stay in the park, to see it. To see the wonder. And then go back to the media telling them how great it was. But he lied to us. We looked up his background, and he wasn't any of what he told us. He was an ex-policeman from England, who'd been dismissed for… violence, as I remember. Perhaps he wanted a way to clean up his reputation."
"By doing what?"
"By 'exposing' a so-called dangerous park, just before the creatures broke out. And you caught him in the act."
"But that doesn't make sense." Campbell started pacing. "The power went out when he was down here… He couldn't have done it."
"Was there anything that seemed… off?"
He stopped pacing. His jaw dropped. "He told Temple to enter a code into the computer, right before the power-cut…"
"What code was that?"
"Err… I don't remember, but… You got a mobile phone anywhere?"
Rossiter pulled one out from his pocket. "I managed to retain my second phone. No credit, though."
Rossiter passed it to Campbell. The head-keeper checked that Rossiter was telling the truth, which he frustratingly was, and then made to send a text. He remembered something about the word 'anomaly'. As he recalled, typing a sequence of numbers in predictive text came up with that word. So, if he typed the number keys that made up that word, it would reveal the code.
"It's two… six… six… six… five… no, two…then five…and nine. Two-Six-Six-Six-Two-Five-Nine. What does that mean?"
Rossiter was dumbstruck. "It's… it's the emergency code."
"What emergency code?"
"For use in extreme cases. It turns off the power supply."
"It does what? How could you put in a protocol like that? And… can you undo it?"
"No, I'm afraid that's not possible. It wasn't exactly finished yet. The person in charge of it delayed it."
"Who? Who was in charge of it?"
Rossiter looked down to his shoes. "It was confidential…"
"Rossiter!" Campbell stepped closer. "Who was it?"
"Keeper Scott. Vincent Scott."
Campbell stepped backwards. Keeper Scott. He… it couldn't have… Him. He always seemed… Campbell didn't know who to trust anymore. "I… I have to tell the others about this…" Campbell walked towards the door.
"Wait! You can't! Those people, the brunette woman, Captain Hemple, they were together. They came together, in the same trip. And they seemed to know Quinn, didn't they?"
Campbell stopped right at the door. He didn't turn around. "Rossiter, who are they?"
"I met with them yesterday. They were causing disruption at the megamyotid enclosure. Mueller contacted me about it."
"I remember something about that…"
"They said they were going to try and close the park down. They didn't say how, but they did say 'by any means necessary'. We had no choice but to bring them in."
Campbell turned around again. He looked Rossiter dead in the eye. Should he believe him? He needed to know one thing before he could have any trust in this man.
"How did you really get future creatures?" he asked.
Rossiter was taken by surprise. "I'm sorry, what?"
"The future creatures. You can't seriously expect me to believe that you 'predicted future evolution', can you? It's nonsense!"
"Head Keeper Campbell, I…"
"NO! I've gone on working at this park for months, helping out on this operation, I moved house, I left behind everything for this! And I never really found out what it was. What the secret was. The keepers were just kept in the dark, while the scientists busied away with something in that facility. Yeah, there was DX, which you never cured, but there must have been something else. I never got to go there and see it myself. So, what was really going on in there?"
"I was going to tell you, eventually. When you were ready. Helen Cutter is the reason this park was built in the first place. She revealed to me a kind of technology not seen anywhere else in the world. And with it, we built a wonder."
"What technology?"
"Time-travel."
Campbell raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"
"It's true. That facility contains wormholes in time, through which creatures from ages past and future can be collected."
"Wormholes in time?" Campbell repeated unbelievingly.
"They're called anomalies."
Campbell turned to him. He thought. 'Anomalies'. That's too much of a coincidence. So that meant that Rossiter was telling the truth, and that Quinn knew about them too. Or that they were both lying, and that Rossiter and Quinn were in league with each other. But that didn't make sense… Quinn had caused the powercut, and Rossiter definitely wouldn't have supported that. Or that it really was just a coincidence. Or Rossiter could just be lying about everything. Campbell had no idea which was the right one.
"You're lying," Campbell said.
"No, I'm done lying."
Campbell sat down on the couch, and clutched his forehead. He'd developed a throbbing headache, partly due to lack of sleep.
"Mister Campbell, I'd like to ask you something." Rossiter rolled his chair closer to the couch. "Now that we're on equal ground. Captain Hemple is clearly not planning to play nicely with my… our creatures. In fact, his particular desire for heavy weaponry seems a little peculiar." Campbell was too tired to focus anymore. Rossiter continued. "How do I put this?… Would you be willing to ensure that his next trip doesn't result in any… unnecessary losses? He'll trust you, after the night you've mutually endured."
Campbell nodded.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Thirty-Five
Pandora's Folly

Disasters teach us humility. – Saint Anselm

Connor took a deep breath. "So basically, we're in a park full of vicious predators from the Earth's past and future, all hungry, and we're… out of fuel?"
McCoy nodded.
The jeep was parked neatly along the edge of the muddy road. Brian, the receptionist, and Maria, the surviving guest, were both stood outside the vehicle, waiting to be told what to do. Keeper Scott was stuffing his rucksack with all he could fit. Connor and Keeper McCoy were stood in the middle of the road. The wound on Connor's head had been patched up, but the pain was still there.
The keepers had updated Connor on the situation. They were the survivors of a creature attack on the visitor centre, and were making their way to a bunker at the far end of the park. This bunker was designed as a safe place in emergencies. They were going around the edge of the park, so as to avoid the crowded interior, where most of the enclosures – and potential escapees – were located. They'd contacted the emergency services, who had already received many calls about the breakout, presumably from guests at the lodge. However, they didn't seem entirely certain on what was going to happen next.
The rain had ceased, and the sky was clearing. It was morning, and the sun was peeking through the remaining clouds. They had stopped the jeep alongside the Maiasaura enclosure, on their left, and although there was a massive gap in the fence, the dinosaurs could still be seen browsing inside. Trees overhung the road on the other side.
Scott finished packing, and walked out to Connor and McCoy. "The complex is down that road, maybe twenty minutes' walk. The bunker's there, it's the safest place in the park." Scott turned to Connor. "Then we'll find your girl."
Connor nodded. He'd tried to tell them to look for Abby first, but he knew they were right when they said it was too dangerous. All he could do for her now was to get help.
The group of five got organised to go.
They heard rustling among the trees on the side opposite the enclosure. Scott raised his rifle, despite not having any ammo. The sound continued. Soon, Connor realised it was footsteps. Someone was running towards them. Scott scanned the foliage, unable to get a focus on anything.
A man in plain clothes jumped out of the vegetation. Connor recognised him as Murdoch, one of Hemple's squad.
"Murdoch!" Connor exclaimed, and hugged the soldier. "What happened?"
Murdoch pushed Connor away. "It's coming. You have to run." He looked over at the keepers. "Now!"
An almighty roar erupted from the trees. It wasn't all that far away. Scott and McCoy looked up in panic. Brian and Maria started to run down the road, towards the complex. The two keepers chased them down and grabbed them.
"It'll catch you!" said McCoy. "In here!" The keepers pulled the civilians into the enclosure through the gap. Murdoch followed them, his pistol held up, and Connor followed him in turn.
"This way!" shouted Scott from the front of the column. He dived into a stand of gingkoes. The group ran deep into the undergrowth after him. They eventually came to the enclosure's border fence. Together, they crouched close to the ground, around one thick trunk. And, with thunder coming down from the sky, they watched.
Connor saw the ripples first. Every few seconds, ripples were cast across the surface of a nearby puddle. They were caused by regular waves of vibration in the ground. Connor felt them now. They were getting steadily stronger. And then he realised that those sounds weren't thunder.
From their hiding place, the group could still see out into the clearing, and the Maiasaura herd. They were browsing ferns rather peacefully, but a few of them did seem nervous.
Five or six Gallimimus jumped through the gap in the fence. Their arrival caused panic amongst the herd. The large herbivores started calling in distress, and scattered, while their small invaders dispersed in amongst the Maiasaura. With a crash of metal, the thunderous footsteps landed inside the enclosure. The Tyrannosaur was at least four metres tall at the hip, and twelve metres long. She was massive.
The Tyrannosaur paused at the unexpected presence of new hunting opportunities. She switched targets, and made for one of the Maiasaura. She chose the slowest one, which was lagging behind the rest of the herd. She charged towards the Maiasaura, soon closing the gap. She ran alongside it for a time, before lobbing her skull straight into the herbivore's flank. It was thrown off its feet. It flailed, its limbs in the air, before shifting back upright, and lifting up again. The tyrannosaur opened its massive jaws and bit down on the prey's backbone, pushing it to the ground. There followed a tussle between the two dinosaurs, with both pushing against the strength of the other. The Maiasaura was losing blood fast. It didn't hold out for long, and eventually collapsed. The tyrannosaur released her grip, and sniffed at her kill. She opened her jaws again, and took a lump out of the dinosaur's flank.
Connor felt a nudge. "We should get going," whispered Scott. The group quietly moved away from the kill site. If the Tyrannosaur did hear them, she wasn't interested.

With the tyrannosaur blocking the hole in the fence, the survivors circled around her and decided to use another route to the complex, through a number of enclosures. It was dangerous, but wouldn't take too much longer than the original plan.
As they walked to the other end of the enclosure, Murdoch told them about how his group had been attacked, and that he didn't know whether the others had survived. His pistol was nearly out of ammo after a few close-calls with the predators in the park.
Scott led them to a gate on the other side of the Maiasaura enclosure, and pulled out a bunch of keys to open it. Then, they were at the next enclosure.
It was a large lake, with a central island. Several bridges connected the island to the shore. But these bridges were flanked by two sets of usually-electric railing on either side, signified by the yellow-bolt-signs along their length, plus an inner railing of un-electrified steel. This was the Mosasaur lake.
The group stopped to take in this sight.
Connor turned to Keeper Scott. "The power doesn't matter for this one, does it? They're stuck in the lake."
Scott shook his head. "They can jump high enough to snatch people off the walkway. The electricity normally deters them." Then he pointed to the nearest bridge, just in front of them. "See the smaller walkway, just beside it?" There was a narrow walkway running parallel to the larger bridge, several yards to its right, blocked from regular use by a locked gate. "That's the feeding walkway. When we go out onto it, the cables that connect it to the lake-bed vibrate. The mosasaurs know by now that when they do, it's feeding-time. If we even walk out onto any of the paths, they'll be interested. So, we go around."
That second, the trees started to shake, and burst open to reveal the form of a leaping Hyaenodont. The rhino-sized creature landed amongst the group, with Scott, McCoy, Murdoch, Brian and Maria on one side, and Connor isolated at the end of the formation. The Hyaenodont looked towards Connor.
Murdoch raised his gun and fired two shots. At such close range, both hit home, and pierced the creature's side, spurting blood. The predator turned to the soldier. Murdoch tried to fire again.
Click.
He was out of bullets.
The Hyaenodont returned its attention to Connor, and paced towards him. Connor backed away. He hit the bridge. He stepped onto it.
"Connor, don't even think about it!" Scott called. But it was too late. The Hyaenodont followed after Connor, until he was forced fully onto the bridge.
Connor closed his eyes, and breathed. He'd have to make a run for it.
Just as the Hyaenodont stepped onto the walkway, Connor turned tail and sprinted towards the central island. He could hear the Hyaenodont chasing after him by the loud footfalls behind him. It was gaining.
The walkway was now swaying back and forth to the extreme, seeing as it probably wasn't built for rhino-sized users.

Scott could only look on as the Hyaenodont chased Connor along the narrow walkway. It would only be a matter of time before the mosasaurs noticed them.
Together with Murdoch, he ran to the land-end of the walkway, and hollered at the beast. They were trying to distract it and buy Connor some time. But their shouts didn't even break its stride. It had its prey in its sight.
Scott saw what he was dreading. Triangular ripples formed on the lake-surface just underneath where Connor was running.
"Connor, GET OUT OF THERE!" Scott shouted.
The ripples disappeared for a moment. The creature was diving. Getting ready for a leap. Scott gulped, and waited.
After a few seconds, a pointed snout shot out of the water. It was scaly, greyish-brown, and reptilian. The mosasaur opened its jaws and grabbed onto the once-electric railing. The wiring couldn't stand up to the pressure, and snapped as the mosasaur started to fall again. As the wire was pulled down, it pulled against the wire all along the bridge, and the whole railing started to collapse. Connor was at least ten yards from the island when the line of collapse reached him. He stumbled, and fell. The Hyaenodont was right behind him. It opened its jaws.

Connor turned around to see the predator's jaws opened wide, and heading straight for him. He braced.
A few feet from his face, the giant wolf yelped, and stopped. It dug it claws into the steel walkway, but helplessly slid away from Connor. Something was pulling it.
Connor stood up to see that a medium-sized mosasaur had grabbed onto it. Half-on the walkway, half-hanging in mid-air. The mosasaur was pulling its food into the water, using its sheer weight. The sea-serpent was twice the size of the mammal, easily. The Hyaenodont couldn't hold on. As the mosasaur slid off the walkway, the Hyaenodont went with it. Connor saw the two predators tussling in the water, but soon other ripples arrived, and blood erupted as the feeding frenzy began.
The bridge was still swaying dangerously, and as the mosasaur was sliding off, Connor had heard a snap. He now looked up to see the suspending cables breaking and snapping one by one with the swaying motion. At the spot where the mosasaur had rested, right in the middle of the walkway, the last cable snapped, and the steel bridge-section sloped downwards, pulling on its neighbours, which pulled on their own cables, which snapped. Connor watched as the whole walkway started to collapse, one section at a time.
"Connor, MOVE!" came the shouts from the beach.
Connor shifted onto his feet, and started running again. He could hear the cables snapping behind him, and the steel sections splashing into the water.
The island was a few yards away. Connor could make it. The cables to his side started to snap. The steel beneath his feet vibrated even more strongly. Connor stumbled slightly, but kept going.
Four feet from the island, Connor felt the steel beneath him fall. He was out of time. He leapt into the air, and reached out.
He landed on the ground with a thud. He looked back to see the rest of the walkway completely disappear into the water. That was a close one.

The central island was a viewing platform for the visitors. The edges were all cliff-sides, several feet above the water-level, and the cliffs were edged with electric railing. A non-electrified, steel railing lay inside that, to protect the guests.
The island was largely empty, except for the viewing equipment, and a gazebo. There were several trees, but there were no creatures here.
As the others went around the lake, Connor had to use one of the other bridges to get off the island. Most of the mosasaurs were preoccupied with feeding, so now was the safest time. He couldn't use the feeding bridge, which lay back the way he'd come – that was too close to the feeding mosasaurs. He used another bridge, on the other side of the island.
He sprinted across without incident, and rejoined the group.
As everyone rested a short distance from the beach, Connor spoke up to the keepers. "So, what's next?" he asked, trying to smile.
"Don't worry," McCoy said, "it's just the aquarium."
Land of Time's aquarium was a huge, circular tank, similar to a dolphin pool, but much larger. It aimed to replicate the sea of late Cretaceous North America, according to the information signs outside.
Raised platforms above the water allowed people to see down into the deep tank, and underneath the tank ran a concrete viewing area; the actual aquarium. The group decided to go down here for a final rest before the push to the bunker. In addition, the low ceiling afforded some protection from the park's larger escapees. Murdoch and Scott stood guard.
The glass windows in the tank revealed an astonishing variety of prehistoric sea-life. There were colourful fish, ammonites, and even a small species of mosasaur.
Connor sat down in front of one of the windows, to marvel at the spectacle in front of him. This park had really had the potential to be beautiful at one point. But that chance had come and gone.
His mind returned to a sore point. What if this was his fault? He'd been at the computer. There was no way he could prove it wasn't his fault, not here, not now. He felt like Pandora. The mythological woman who'd opened the box of evils and unleashed them on the world.
"Hey," came a voice to Connor's side. Connor looked up. It was Keeper McCoy. She sat down to Connor's right. After a moment of looking into the tank, she spoke again. "So, your people came to investigate this place?"
Connor nodded, and turned back to the tank. "We had to make sure it was safe."
"I can't blame you for that."
"Did they tell you how they got these creatures?" Connor asked. "Rossiter and Helen?"
McCoy looked at Connor, confused. "Yeah… they told everyone else, why wouldn't they tell us?"
They didn't even tell their own keepers about the anomalies. Connor was about to explain it all, but then decided that it could wait. "So, you want to talk about the note?"
McCoy looked back at the tank. "No one else saw any evidence of the megamyotids breeding…"
"How often did you check?"
"Not often… they were too dangerous. You know, after six months, you get used to the creatures. Their habits, their behaviour patterns. All of them – even the raptors – are actually pretty predictable. They're animals, and they're just trying to survive. They're not monsters. Predators don't hunt when they're not hungry."
"Yeah, only humans do that…" Connor said, half-jokingly.
McCoy looked at Connor. "That's what I would have said. But, those… those megamyotids… They're different. They're smart. They're a different kind of smart to us. See, our intelligence, human intelligence, is based around social bonds and interaction. But the megamyotids have a sort of cold, predatory intelligence. They're unpredictable. It creeps me out. I just… I wouldn't put anything past them."
"Time to move," Scott called.
Connor and McCoy stood up again. They grabbed their stuff and set off after him.
"So," Connor said to McCoy as they were walking along. Then, in a slightly lower voice, "how are the civilians doing?"
"Brian and Maria?" McCoy asked.
Connor nodded.
"They're shell-shocked," McCoy answered. "They haven't said anything since we left the lodge. Personally, I can't blame them. Me and Scott, we have to put on a brave face, but… it was terrible back there. Like a war-zone. A massacre."
The group walked on in silence. The silhouettes of the aquarium inhabitants danced across the walls in a mesmerising display. It was almost spooky.
"Guys," Brian called from the front of the column.
Scott rushed up to him. "What?"
"Listen!" Brian told him.
All Connor could hear was a set of footfalls. But everyone was standing still.
Murdoch motioned for everyone to stay still, and walked on ahead, cautiously, checking around himself.
The footfalls continued, but weren't coming straight for them. The footfalls seemed to going around them. This aquarium was like a maze of tunnels, and the mystery thing could have been circling around them. It could have been a person, lost in the park.
It could have been Abby.
Soon the footfalls came around behind them. Behind Connor, at the back of the group. Scott quietly walked over to Connor, and stood out in front of him. He held out his empty rifle in a hollow display of aggression.
A reptilian snout came around the corner, followed by the rest of the raptor's body. Then it noticed the people. It seemed surprised to see them. It mustn't have been stalking them. It poked out its nose towards them, and sniffed. It wasn't aggressive, just inquisitive.
Murdoch walked up to reinforce Scott, but the keeper put up his hand at the soldier, motioning him to stop.
The raptor seemed uninterested in the group. After a few more seconds, it walked away, out of the aquarium.
Connor breathed a sigh of relief.
McCoy was right. They weren't monsters.

The group walked out of the aquarium, into the morning sun. There was a cooling breeze. They were nearly safe.
"The bunker is down this path, just a few minutes' walk", announced Scott.
Around them, the trees shook.
The group looked around in panic. Connor heard a familiar rattle-cackle sound.
The future predators had found them.
A figure leaped out of the trees and landed on Murdoch. Three other predators jumped out onto his struggling figure, pinning him down. They dug into him. There was nothing the others could do.
The predators lifted their bloody mouths and looked towards the rest of the humans.
"RUN!" Scott shouted. On cue, the civilians bolted, and McCoy kept with them. Scott grabbed Connor, and ran, but kept an eye on the predators.
Up ahead, a predator launched out of the trees, and knocked the blonde woman to the ground. Scott let go of Connor, and charged at the predator. He managed to knock it off balance, but nothing more. It swiped its long, thin arms at him with surprising force, and knocked him to the ground. Scott backed off, with no blood injuries.
McCoy pulled Scott away. "It's too late! We need to get to the bunker!"
Connor followed behind as they all ran into the trees. Before long, they emerged onto a plaza in front of a large building, with glass doors. Brian, McCoy, Scott and Connor ran inside and Scott locked the door behind them.
Connor looked out at the plaza. There were no future predators in sight. But they were there.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Thirty-Six
Start at the Beginning

It isn't that they can't see the solution. It is that they can't see the problem. – Gilbert Keith Chesterton (1874-1936)

'WHEN DINOSAURS RULED THE EARTH'
The banner was no longer hanging over the park's entrance. Now, it draped across the concrete.
Becker stopped the bike just in front of the gates. He dismounted and checked around for a way in. He knocked at the security boxes, but there was no-one in. Tents and sleeping bags lay empty around the entrance and down the road.
Becker raised the butt of his rifle and broke through the glass in the security box. He used the weapon to clear away the broken shards, threw his rifle through, and then climbed in. It was tight, but he made it. He fell onto the floor, grabbed his rifle, and checked around – just in case. Then he stood up, and searched for something of use. He found several keys, and took them all. Then he exited the box, and tried them to open the gate. The twentieth-or-so key worked, and the padlock clicked open. Becker quickly pushed past, and rolled the bike through. Then he made sure to lock the gate behind him.
He turned towards the park, and something in the bushes caught his eye. He left the bike, and approached the treeline to his left. The fencing had a number of holes in it. And, just in amongst the shrubbery, there was a patch of blood. And a femur.
Skinner was right. Something had happened.
…
The devastation at the visitor-centre was an awful sight to behold. The stench of blood filled the air. Despite the collapsed buildings, Becker decided to look inside for survivors. He found none. Confidence somewhat drained, he nonetheless resolved to continue on to find survivors. Amongst the wreckage, he discovered a map of the park, which showed another building, where people might have gathered. He decided to head there.
It wasn't long before he found a survivor. Crashed in the wall of the mammoth enclosure was a car; a mini Cooper. Becker dismounted the bike, and looked inside.
It was Maitland. And she was alive.
He quickly got into the driver's side of the car, and discovered that it was, miraculously, still in good working order. He abandoned the bike, and drove the Mini, with an unconscious Maitland, towards this 'lobby', where he hoped he'd find the rest of the team.
…
Doctor Malcolm and Head-Keeper Campbell stood outside the door of Rossiter's office. Doctor Grant was on watch duty inside, and Malcolm and Campbell decided to back him up, just in case.
"So, it was empty? They were all stolen?" Malcolm asked.
"The weapons were all gone when we got there," Campbell validated. "The case for sabotage is starting to look quite attractive."
"Who was up there before you? Were any keepers on duty there?"
"Not that I know of. Although, with the scorpion breakout, we had to move around a few shifts, so someone could have ended up there."
"And the security guards?"
"We only have two normal security guards, at the main-gate. And Cutter's clones disappeared before the breakout. So maybe they took them, but that would lead you back to Cutter."
"Only two normal security guards, really? Not even ones at the main controls? Like the power-grid?"
"I know what you're getting at, but the controls are mainly focused on 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."
…
"I read your book."
Doctor Alan Grant was on watch duty. Sat on the sofa in Rossiter's office, he faced Rossiter behind his desk, as their prisoner. The office was a well-decorated one, which Grant now had the chance to notice. Paintings lined the wall, and a few small ornaments adorned the desk. Among them was a Velociraptor claw, not unlike one that Grant used to have. However, this one was white, and without the stain of fossilization. It looked new. A large bookcase was well-stocked with books, on everything from palaeontology to cooking. Near that, the security video feeds showed nothing but the static of powerlessness.
"The second book," Rossiter elaborated. "The second one, after you visited Isla Nublar."
"What did you think?" Grant asked, not totally interested in the answer.
"You seemed a little disillusioned. I mean, I can hardly blame you."
"Well, that's comforting, Mister Rossiter."
Rossiter sighed. "Well, I guess there's nothing I can say. I'm doomed already."
"Excuse me?"
"Either figuratively, or literally. In all your minds, I caused this, so I guess I'm the least saveable. And if the creatures don't get me, I'll become the most hated man in America."
"Now, hold on. No one's leaving anyone behind."
"Well, that's comforting, Doctor Grant."
The two sat in silence for a few moments. Then Rossiter spoke again.
"Helen will return. I'm sure of it. There's no point in losing hope."
Silence again.
"We're not all that different, you and I," Rossiter said.
"How so?"
"Well, for example, I agree that InGen's dinosaurs were nothing more than fairground attractions."
"And yet you still displayed them."
"You haven't let me finish. Those animals were still animals, and worth saving from that horrible disease, DX. But the vast majority of our animals are natural. The real deal. Direct from the past."
"If you're trying to convince me of something, it's not working."
"I convinced you to come." Rossiter smiled.
"We only took up your offer because we needed a way to get here quickly, before you opened the place. I was already planning on coming."
"Can you honestly say you weren't a little interested in seeing the animals?"
Grant smiled. "Mister Rossiter, I can honestly say without a shadow of a doubt that I would rather be anywhere else on Earth right now than here."
"OK, maybe you're right. Maybe all this was a mistake. Maybe-"
"There's no 'maybe' about it, this was a mistake. You're just repeating the failures of the past." Grant remained calm. His lack of energy helped that.
"What I did, I did with the best of intentions."
"The worst things imaginable-"
The door opened. It was Captain Hemple. "Doctor Grant? Could you come out here for a second?"
"Sure," Grant replied, and walked out into the corridor, locking the door behind him.
"Doctor Grant," Hemple began, "I need you to tell me everything you know about this 'InGen' and what they were doing."
Before Grant could answer, a shout echoed down the corridor. "Hemple!" It was Jenny Lewis.
A man with black hair and army gear, carrying a rifle over one shoulder and an unconscious blonde girl over the other, came walking down the corridor. He turned to Hemple. "Where's Doody?"
…
While field medic David Doody patched Abby up, everyone except Rossiter gathered in the drawing room. Becker sat down on one of the chairs, Jenny to his right, Hemple to his left, while Grant, Malcolm, Levine, Mason, Redfern and Campbell pulled up other chairs. Danny was the last to enter the room.
"Becker?" he exclaimed with disbelief.
Becker turned around, and looked somewhat less surprised. "Quinn." He smiled.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Danny asked.
"Looking for you," Becker replied. "I'm assuming I came through the same way that you did."
"Which way was that?" Jenny asked.
"Through an anomaly," Becker said. "A couple of anomalies, actually. They have a… a 'facility', where they've gathered anomalies. That's where their creatures came from. They lied."
"Yeah, we know," Grant said. "We spoke to one of their leaders. And, we have the CEO in the next room."
Becker turned to face Grant. His face had dropped. "What?" he asked, standing up. He took hold of his rifle.
"Becker, what's wrong?" Jenny asked.
"They have a spy. He kidnapped Sarah Page."
Jenny stopped talking.
…
Rossiter heard the sound of Grant locking the door. That was his cue. Quickly, he checked his watch. 8:40 a.m. Right on schedule.
He paced around to the plasma screen, and reached around the back. He flicked a couple of switches. And it powered up.
He thanked his lucky stars that this had a separate power source.
Soon enough, a large pinewood desk appeared on the screen. This time, only twelve shareholders were seated around it. Once again, the white-haired Braxton sat at the head of the table, opposed to Rossiter.
"Rossiter, what's going on?" Braxton asked. "We've heard worrying reports from the guests."
"We've been sabotaged," Rossiter said, calmly and clearly. "Someone's set off one of the emergency protocols." As he continued, his speech became more and more frantic and exasperated. "The power has been cut. The creatures have escaped. We've suffered severe fatalities, and have apparently been abandoned by our security forces. We need assistance as soon as possible." He finished almost breathless.
Braxton replied. "We can contact the US army, and send help. Expect a call soon."
"Braxton, thank you," Rossiter said. "Once this is over, I may need some back-up. Financially, or perhaps otherwise…"
"Mister Rossiter, I'm afraid I can't do that. I can't afford it. We can contact the US forces, but we can't commit our own capital. I'm afraid you're on your own. Goodbye, and good luck."
The television screen went blank again.
Rossiter was speechless. He turned off the television, and fell backwards onto the sofa. He'd run out of allies.
He heard the door unlock, and swing open. He sat up to see a black-haired man walk through first, straight towards him.
"Howard Rossiter…" the man said, but he was interrupted.
Hemple overtook him and grabbed hold of Rossiter, lifting him off the couch and up against the wall. He drew the silver revolver, and pointed it to Rossiter's neck.
"It's time you told us everything you know about this park," he said. Then a small smile played across his features. "So, why don't you start at the beginning?"

----------------------------------------------------

Chapter Thirty-Seven
Las Cinco Muertes

Nobody can be so amusingly arrogant as a young man who has just discovered an old idea and thinks it is his own. – Sydney J. Harris

ISLA SORNA
207 Miles West of Costa Rica
July 23rd
1997

The Pericule was rocking gently. It was an overcast day; it was warm, but the sky was thick with clouds. Rain was on its way. The ship was anchored a mile from the shore of a beautiful tropical island. Resting on the deck's gunwale, a twenty-three-year-old Howard Rossiter looked out onto this unkempt wilderness with a mixture of awe and frustration. This was as close as he was getting.
He was tall, thin and lanky, and his black hair was messy and uncombed. He wore a dark-green shirt underneath an unzipped khaki combat jacket, and blue jeans.
He took his eyes off Isla Sorna for a second to take a look around the deck. The deckhands were all busily preparing for the mission. Men were gathering supplies and weapons. A chopper was resting on its landing pad to Howard's far right.
With a clunk and a screech, the nearest hatch in the hull opened. A group of soldiers marched out onto the deck in single file. Most of them eagerly walked towards the makeshift armoury opposite Howard, but one broke formation and approached Howard. He had light brown hair that was rather unkempt, like Howard's. He was slightly shorter than Howard, but much more muscular.
"Your safety briefing took a while," Howard pointed out.
"Well, there was a lot to get through," the soldier answered, as he walked out to join him at the gunwale. "You forgot to mention the ones that spit poison."
"Ah, yes. Dilophosaurus wetherilli. Quite a unique species, and a brilliant find for InGen."
The soldier leaned on the gunwale beside Howard, and both men looked out at the island. This soldier was Carl Warren, a member of the mercenary team BioSyn had hired for the operation. He was twenty-six and had extensive experience in jungle warfare. He and Howard had built up something of a rapport in their short time on this ship.
After a few minutes of staring out, Howard spoke again, without shifting his gaze. "You have no idea how lucky you are."
Carl looked over at him, and spoke with an air of incredulity, even though this conversation was nothing new for them. "You're actually jealous."
"More envious, really. There is a difference."
A clap of thunder overhead, and Howard felt raindrops falling on his forehead.
As the thunder continued, and the rain intensified into a storm, Howard turned his gaze to the mercenary. "You know it's not too late to sneak me onto the helicopter!" he called over the roar of the weather.
Carl, like all of the other mercenaries, was gathering his supplies and preparing to go inside. "You know what your father would do…"
Howard took one last look at the shoreline, which was now becoming obscured by fog. "He hasn't seen it." He followed Carl inside.
…
The storm rocked the boat. Howard stood in the bridge with the captain. Their view through the windows was obscured completely by thick fog. This sizeable cabin's only feature, apart from a couple of seats, windows and a hatch-door, was the captain's controls. The mission was due to begin tomorrow morning, but looked set to be delayed now.
BioSyn had chartered this freighter to carry the mercenary team to Isla Sorna, the 'Site B' of Jurassic Park. It was here, away from the park itself, that the creatures had been matured before introduction to the park. Now that the operation had come to a bloody end, the dinosaurs and pterosaurs were free to roam around the island.
BioSyn's mission involved sending the team onto the island to check up on its inhabitants. BioSyn's last mission, three years earlier, had discovered that the creatures were suffering from a prion disease known as 'DX', and the ecosystem looked set to deteriorate and die off. This mission had the aim of ascertaining the ecosystem's progress since then, to see if DX really had killed them off, and whether DX could be cured.
The chopper was to carry the mercenary team, and a few scientists and photographers, to the island. The ship was moored along the island's northern shore. Past the coastal cliffs lay InGen's original employee village and lab. Although the complex was largely dilapidated, it would be the best place to set up camp.
Howard was in command of the mission on the ship, but once the mercenaries arrived on the island, the mercenary leader, Hudson, would have full authority. As per the orders of Jeffrey Rossiter, CEO of BioSyn and Howard's father, Howard was not to set foot on the island, and was to stay on the boat. It frustrated Howard no end.
…
Night closed in, with Howard and Captain McAllister in the bridge. The ship was still rocking with the waves, now more strongly than before. McAllister was at the wheel, trying to make out the sea ahead, but the dense fog made that impossible. Howard was sitting down, reading 'A Brief History of Time', as the ship lurched sideways. Howard was thrown to the floor, and dropped the book. Another lurch in the other direction sent both men falling.
The lurches continued, but McAllister managed to reach the controls. Howard forced himself onto his feet as well. Just as they looked out the window, the fog cleared and clarity returned. Then they saw the waves. A massive one was heading in their direction.
McAllister grabbed the radio. "Lift anchor!"
Howard opened the hatch to look out onto the bow. It was already flooded as a few deckhands ran out to the capstan. As they started winding the anchor in, a wave of seawater cascaded over the gunwale and cast them onto the deck floor.
Howard looked back to the captain, who was rapidly turning the wheel to face into the oncoming wave. However, with the bow still weighted by the anchor, the ship could not rise over the wave. The ship ploughed into the wall of water. The windows shattered. McAllister was thrown backwards. Howard was thrown off his feet, and cast from the bridge and into the water.
…
Howard coughed up. He opened his eyes and spluttered the seawater out of his throat.
It was still night, but the sky had cleared completely and he could see the moon.
He looked around. He was in one of the life-rafts, and surrounded by members of the mercenary team. There were five of them.
"That was a close one!" said one of the mercenaries, sitting over Howard. It was Carl.
Howard pushed himself upwards. He could still see the island. Around them, he could see other life-rafts, drifting in the same current. The waves beneath them were calm. "How did you find me?" Howard asked. The last thing he remembered was hitting the sea.
"Some of us grabbed the life-rafts and escaped the ship. Mainly the team, and a few deckhands. We found you in the water. By then, the ship was gone."
"How many life-rafts?"
"Five."
"Which way are we drifting?"
"South-easterly. According to maps of the island, there are a few potential landing-sites along the eastern coast."
"You plan to land?"
"Yeah. If we trek north from there, we can make it to the worker village. There's a radio facility there. We lost all our phones and radios in the storm."
After a few hours, the current calmed, and the rafts could paddle and power themselves closer to the shoreline. The impending cliffs were still present, but pocketed in the rock were a few caves. This was their way in. Howard's raft paddled into the northern-most cave. The other rafts, having been pushed further on by the current, entered the other caves. Howard was now wrapped in a second jacket to keep warm. The cave entrance was around fifteen feet high, and twenty feet wide. Not far in was the mouth to a small river, the force that had created this cave. The raft was paddled to the water's edge. The mercenaries turned on their flashlights, and dismounted the raft. Howard followed. The ceiling was high enough for them all to stand comfortably. Carl deflated the raft, and he and another mercenary carried it, while the others carried the paddles and the outboard motor. Together, they walked upwards, contra-flow to the river, and towards the air.
Howard rushed out to the front of the column as they approached the exit, and was the first to emerge. He was finally here. It was still pitch dark, but the stars showed him that he was out of the cave. The moonlight illuminated Howard's surroundings without the need for flashlights. He was standing in a clearing of grass along the riverside. A few yards from the river on both sides, the grass gave way to ferns, thorns, shrubbery, and eventually forest.
He was soon joined by the mercenaries. Carl took out a map from his rucksack. Howard and the other men gathered around. "This map was drawn out by BioSyn, based off old InGen maps," Carl began. "The ship sank here," he said, pointing to a spot just offshore, to the north. "And here's the village we were aiming for." He pointed to a set of buildings inside the coastal high ground. "We drifted south-east, and entered this cave. Now, we're here." He continued to point to the appropriate locations. "The nearest shelter is this boathouse." He pointed out a small single building upstream from their current location. It was close to the convergence of three rivers, and the other two led to other caves along the cliff. "The other groups have maps too, so that's probably where they'll go. We can camp there for the night."
Carl was right. Their group arrived first, but the other two weren't far behind, approaching up their respective rivers. There were just twenty-two other survivors, including Hudson, the mercenary leader.
The boathouse stood on the northern side of the river. It was a small wooden building of one floor. The door was gone, but the walls were largely untouched, though the occasional claw-scratch-marks reminded them where they were. The group had no blankets, but lay down on the wooden floor anyway. Hudson and two other mercenaries (not including Carl) stood guard, while everyone else tried to get some sleep.
July 24th
For Howard, the morning was a fantastic sight. The sky was a brilliant blue, with only a few clouds. Though still shaken by the shipwreck, it didn't take away from his anticipation as he walked out to the doorway, where the mercenaries were preparing. They carried assault rifles and M4 carbines, and a few semi-automatic shotguns. Howard had been equipped with no weapon, and had little experience handling them. Carl gave him a few lessons with the carbine, in case he found himself using one, and then the group set off, with Hudson in command.
The group followed an overgrown dirt-road from the boathouse. Howard had to watch his feet to avoid tripping over the thorny branches and vines that extended over the track. This road would lead them straight to the village. They walked on the right-hand side of the river, upstream, but gradually the road parted from it. Howard kept waiting to see the creatures, checking his binoculars from time to time, but he couldn't see anything; not even pterosaurs. Perhaps DX had had a more serious effect than he had assumed.
As they continued, the trees closed in to their right. After an hour, a smaller track-way led down to the right through a gap in the trees, towards a small clearing. Rossiter looked towards it through his binoculars, and saw his first Sorna dinosaurs.
It was a graveyard. Huge bones poked out of the earth, being partially overgrown. Howard ignored the rest of the team and ran towards them. The other mercenaries followed. "Five minutes!" Hudson called.
Howard examined the skeletons. With the scientists gone, he had to rely on his own knowledge of InGen creatures to identify them. Their teeth made them hadrosaurs – either Parasaurolophus or Maiasaura. The absence of the former's striking head-crest in these skeletons pointed towards the latter.
Carl called to Howard from across the clearing. He was examining the skeletons himself. "Was this DX?"
"I don't know, I can't really tell from the bones." He hadn't done that kind of research, expecting the scientists to cover that aspect of the mission. "But it's probable."
A twig cracked.
The mercenaries raised their weapons automatically. Howard suddenly felt quite isolated, out by himself. And he realised that this was a great place for an ambush.
A rustle in the bushes, and from the undergrowth burst a whole pack of Velociraptors. Rifle- and carbine-fire erupted, and the raptors leapt at their quarries. Blood of reptiles and humans spurted and fountained out of the melee. Howard had no way of helping.
Carl, still firing at the predators, ran to Howard and grabbed him. Together, they ran across to the top of the next rise, and back onto the road. They were soon joined by Hudson and the other survivors. The survivors numbered only seven, and their supplies were totally diminished. They carried just one of the deflated life-rafts, two paddles and one outboard.
One of the raptors followed them. It ran up the rise and straight for Carl. It pushed him to the ground. The other mercenaries fired their rifles, but quickly were forced to reload or switch to the carbines. The raptors tore Carl's arm. He screamed with pain.
Howard was carrying the outboard. He had an idea.
He pulled the cord, and started the motor. The propeller jerked into life. Howard grabbed hold of the powerhead and shoved the spinning blades at the raptor. They cut into the reptile's side and scattered blood and flesh. The raptor shrieked, and lifted off Carl to face Howard. He pushed the motor at it again, just as the mercenaries fired again. The raptor, outnumbered and injured, returned to the pack.
Howard set the outboard down and dropped to Carl's side. He was still conscious, very pale, and losing blood fast. One of mercenaries examined Carl's arm. He was the medic, as far as Howard remembered.
"First-aid kit!" he called. "Anyone?" No one spoke. They must have lost them. The medic sighed. "Let's get him out of here."
Together, the group lifted Carl further up the road, leaving the raft, outboard and paddles behind. Further up the road, they lay him out on an open, grassy clearing. The blades of pampas-like grass grew to shoulder-height. Three mercenaries stood watch, while the medic looked Carl over. Hudson and Howard sat beside them. The medic sighed.
He pulled a pistol out of his back pocket.
"Hey!" Howard said.
"No…" said a barely-lucid Carl, looking up at it.
The mercenary took out the magazine of the gun, and extracted a single bullet. He pulled a pair of pliers out of his pocket, and unscrewed the casing. Carefully, he scattered the grey powder on the wound. Carl scrunched up his face from the pain.
"What are you doing?" Howard asked, now less concerned, and more curious.
The mercenary took out a match, lit it, and set fire the gunpowder.
They had to hold Carl down.
…
With the gash disinfected, the medic wrapped a bandage around Carl's arm. The group continued up the road to a nearby shed, indicated by the map. The shack was barely visible, so thoroughly had it been overgrown by thickets and vines. Had it not been for the map, the group would have walked right past it. Hudson hacked the vines away from the door with what looked like an oversized pocket-knife. Inside, an unconscious Carl was set down. The medic told everyone else to stay outside, and give them some space. Outside, Howard confronted Hudson.
"We need to turn back to the caves. This place is too dangerous. The mission is a failure." Howard's spirits had been severely knocked back by the raptor slaughter.
Hudson looked at Howard, with a steely gaze. Hudson was twenty years Howard's elder, at least, and a few inches taller, with black hair. He didn't look to be taking Howard's suggestion very seriously. "According to the map, we're as close to the village now as we are to the caves. Forward or backward, it doesn't matter. We'll be running the same risk."
"Maybe, but we'll have to stay some time at the village before help arrives, and who knows what could show up while we wait. We could take the remaining life raft, which is just down the road…"
"And then spend days waiting for rescue, in stormy waters? Rossiter, we still have plenty of ammunition. We follow our orders, and head to those labs. As long as we continue on course, we should reach the village within a few hours, even with an injured party."
Hudson looked toward the shed. His face betrayed his apprehension about taking Carl. Howard could see that much. But Howard knew that kind of decision would be unpopular with the other mercenaries. At least, he hoped it would be.
Howard gave up the argument. Hudson had a point, but Howard had tired of the island. His heart wasn't in it anymore. The giant dinosaurs he'd been anticipating had been decimated by DX. The ecosystem had collapsed.
Soon, they continued on. Carl was now able to walk unabetted, and stubbornly refused Howard's offers of a supporting shoulder. As the group headed north-west, up the road, Howard saw more signs of the collapse. At the bottom of a steep ridge, they saw another skeleton. Again, the skull revealed the creature's identity. It was a Tyrannosaur. These top-predators, being at the top of the food-chain, were bound to be the most vulnerable to a destabilizing ecosystem, and the first to succumb to any changes. Howard doubted that any others were alive. At one time, these majestic dinosaurs ruled the food-chain, like the monarch in a feudal hierarchy. Now, the DX had caused something of a revolution. The royal family were gone, and the stability had gone with them. Opportunists had usurped their power. Picking at the tyrant's skeleton were the proverbial Jacobins. Tiny carnivorous dinosaurs, Procompsognathus, were perched on the bones, gnawing at the remaining pieces of flesh that hadn't been devoured by bigger predators. These seemed like the kind of animals that would briefly thrive in such an era of change.
The group ascended the ridge. The road wound around more trees, and the group emerged at the worker village. It was a set of concrete buildings, all badly overgrown and dilapidated. There were a handful of jeeps, and a fuel depot. The biggest building by far was the huge laboratory. This flat-roofed building stretched out for at least five hectares. To the side of it was a blocky building with the look of a large power-plant. Both buildings were hugely overgrown. Green vines and branches crept across the roofs and walls.
"The radio's in there," Hudson called, pointing to the lab. Together, they all climbed the steps towards the doors. The concrete was rough and broken, and ferns sprouted amongst the cracks. The group entered the somewhat eerie reception. The doors, their panes shattered long ago, were lying on the floor inside. The ceiling was hung with many vine branches, and the floor was carpeted with the dead leaves they'd deposited. Underneath the crunchy upper layer, this carpet was soft and spongy, almost as if it had turned to soil. On the reception counter lay a broken computer, a telephone, and several mouldy sheets of paper. Howard tried to read these notes, but the mould completely hid the writing beneath. Behind the counter, there looked to be a set of chrome letters, but vines had enveloped them and now concealed the message. One chrome letter, 'F', had fallen off the wall, and lay on the floor. To the right of this counter was a waiting area, with a coffee table and two long couches. One was coated with a brown mould. The other was partially covered with a badly torn plastic tarp. A torn backpack leaned against one of the couches. A couple of plastic water bottles, a pair of hiking shorts, a few shiny candy wrappers, and what looked like a mobile phone sat on the coffee table. Howard fiddled with the phone, but it was smashed and gnawed in several places and refused to turn on.
There were two exits from this reception area, two sets of mouldy metallic doors behind the reception. Both of these doors has previously been bolted shut and locked with rusty padlocks, but the padlocks now lay broken on the floor, glinting dimly amongst the leaf litter. The group chose an entrance at random, and found themselves in an overgrown corridor. They walked past broken vending machines and ornaments, and came to what looked like the egg room. The large, unbroken, grimy windows on the right side cast a greenish light over them as they explored. Several circular tables showcased broken eggshells, or nothing at all in some cases. Jars and cylinders of pickled body-parts were placed around the room in a morbid display. Howard, Carl and the medic stayed in that room, while Hudson and the other three mercenaries continued on to the radio room through a corridor to the left.
Carl sat down on one of the chairs in the room. Howard investigated the eggs nearest him.
"Those were some nice propeller moves back there," Carl commented. "Thanks, that could've ended badly."
"Shame I didn't have any real weapon to use," Howard replied.
Carl reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver revolver. It glistened in the light. He handed it to Howard. Howard turned it over in his hands, awe-struck by this beautiful instrument.
"It's real silver," Carl told him. "And real ivory in the grips. It's a family heirloom, left over from the Civil War. Seeing as I have no family left, and I personally don't really like using it…"
"Carl, you can't…"
"For all we know, you saved my life. Consider it a repayment."
Howard didn't know what to say.
"What's that?" the medic called.
Carl and Howard looked over. He was standing close to one of the windows. They immediately noticed what he was talking about. A large silhouette was facing in at them. It was distinctly theropod in shape. They mustn't have noticed its approach during their conversation.
"I thought the rexes were all dead?" Carl whispered.
With a smash of glass, the theropod's skull crashed through the glass, and scattered the shards. Some of them hit the medic, and he fell to the floor. The theropod stretched its head through the gap. It wasn't a T-rex, but a smaller Carnotaur. This was the rex's usurper. It was still a huge predator, 25 feet long. It looked around, and made its way through the window and towards the medic's body. He was covered in blood. As he struggled to stand up, the Carnotaur stretched out its neck and pulled him back, feet-first. The medic called out in pain. The Carnotaur eviscerated him. Then the predator turned to the injured Carl, whose injury it could clearly smell as it twitched its nostrils.
Howard and Carl ran out of the room. The Carnotaur plodded towards them.
Howard turned back to see Hudson and his men emerge from the corridor, and open fire. Carl stopped at the doorway to do the same with his carbine. The Carnotaur was distracted, but continued after them.
Howard raised the revolver, but his shaking hands missed completely.
Agitated by the sounds and pain of gunfire, the Carnotaur blushed bright red. This was a trait of the Carnotaurs documented by InGen.
With the dinosaur too close, Howard and Carl turned tail and sprinted through the reception and outside. They could hear the Carnotaur behind all the time.
They descended the steps at speed and ran out onto the courtyard.
Carl judged their lead big enough to turn back and fire on the dinosaur. As the Carnotaur forced its way out of the building by smashing through, Carl fired the carbine. The still-flushed Carnotaur was by now covered in blood, and slowing down.
It charged at Carl at unexpected speed and pushed him off his feet. He dropped the carbine.
The Carnotaur dragged Carl along the ground. Howard heard his groans as he tried to get a grip on the earth, to no avail.
Howard picked up the carbine, and fired into the Carnotaur's face. It roared out as blood spurted from its right eye – Howard had got lucky.
Carl tried to push himself off the ground, but the Carnotaur forced its right foot onto his back.
Howard heard something crack.
Carl cried out in agony.
Hudson and his men emerged from the building and opened fire.
The Carnotaur looked at Howard, who had paused fire. Howard frantically attempted to reload the weapon.
Howard heard a familiar screech. He looked up to see a Velociraptor sprint out of the trees and leap onto the Carnotaur's side.
It started to tear into the predator. It looked like David versus Goliath from where Howard was standing, but the raptors had numbers on their side. Within seconds, the rest of the pack, eleven raptors, launched from the bushes and onto the Carnotaur.
The Carnotaur lifted its foot from Carl, and tried to cast these midgets off itself, but their combined mass outweighed the larger predator's.
After a few more seconds, it collapsed to the ground. The usurper was dead.
A feeding frenzy erupted amongst the raptors, and soon the weaker ones were pushed away. Still bloodthirsty, they turned to the humans.
Three raptors ran up the steps to the lab building. The four mercenaries were already firing, but with little impact. The raptors each went for a different mercenary, with only Hudson left standing as the new top-predators dug into the men's flesh. He fired, but eventually gave up on them. He ran to Howard.
Howard tiptoed towards the kill, and grabbed Carl's body. He carried it away, to the tree-line, and looked for life. He lay Carl on his back. The man was barely conscious.
"I can't feel my legs…" he said.
"Don't… don't…" Howard stammered, trying to find a wound so he could try the gunpowder trick.
"Tell them I went out in a blaze of glory," Carl said. Then he closed his eyes.
"Wait… no!"
Hudson ran towards them, and saw Carl. He checked the young soldier's pulse, and frowned.
He pulled the speechless Howard to his feet, and ran to the nearest employee accommodation building. Hudson opened the unlocked front door. They both ran inside, and Hudson slammed it shut, using all available locks.
Howard collapsed to the floor.
…
They were in a narrow corridor, with several blue, numbered doors presumably leading into the workers' accommodation rooms. Hudson broke down the nearest door, and together they entered the room. They stood in the kitchen. The circular table at the middle was overlaid with papers, photographs and maps. Howard looked through them, and found a map of Isla Sorna, similar to their own. The kitchen featured a gas cooker, cupboards, and a fridge. The food was all decayed and inedible. Two doors led from the kitchen into the bedroom and toilet-room. Howard pulled a chair up to the table, and sat. Hudson stood over beside him.
"The helicopters will be here soon," the mercenary leader said. "Maybe a few hours. I need to go back into the lab. To complete our mission."
Howard spoke without facing the merc. "The mission's impossible. The lab was only ever a stop-off point, anyway."
"The lab was the mission."
Howard realised what he meant, and looked up at him. "You want the embryos?"
"Your father wants them. And I'm going to make sure damn sure he gets them. It's unfortunate that we lost so many men, Howard, but if what your father says is true, then trust me. The ends will justify the means."
"What could possibly justify this?"
"You're welcome to come with me if you want to find out. I'm betting sticking together is our best chance of survival."
…
Hudson peered through the door every so often to check up on the raptors. After a few hours, the pack returned to the forest. Together, the two survivors made their way to the lab. By now, the sun was setting, and they were losing the light. Hudson brought a large flashlight, his M4 and his assault rifle, as well as his own backpack. Howard followed close behind, with a carbine. Together, they snuck in through the back entrance, and down a corridor. Hudson had retrieved a map of the building while he was in the radio room, and routinely checked it with the flashlight to make sure they were going in the right direction.
Further down the corridor, they opened a rusty metal door, and entered the embryonic cold storage room.
The room was a small space, with no feature other than the storage rack at the centre. Hudson took off his backpack and rummaged through, while Howard walked out to the rack. Positioned around it were cylinders, labelled with dinosaur names. Velociraptor, Procompsognathus, Apatosaurus; a few bad misspellings, like Tyranosaurus or Stegasaurus.
Hudson approached the rack. He slipped on a pair of thick gloves. "Used to have a constant supply of liquid nitrogen," he said. "Doesn't seem to be active now, but better safe than sorry." He slipped out one labelled 'Triceratops', and slipped it inside a cylindrical container he was holding. He slid the container shut, and returned it to his rucksack. He then took out another, identical container. In all, he took out fifteen cylinders, one for each species, and put them in his pack.
"You can't seriously be considering repeating this endeavour?" Howard asked as Hudson got ready to go.
"That is not my concern anymore, Rossiter. Who knows what your father is planning?"
Together, they left the building and returned to the accommodation. And then they waited for rescue.
…
By the time the BioSyn rescue helicopters landed in the courtyard, night had fallen. Together, Hudson and Howard ran out to the nearest and jumped into the back. Hudson informed the pilot that they were the only survivors, and told them to lift off. As the helicopter rose off the ground, Howard looked down at the other choppers. Men in camouflage suits, carrying heavy weaponry, assembled on the ground. Some of them ran out to establish the perimeter.
Under the light of the helicopter spotlights, Howard noticed something in the trees. Not far from the Carnotaur corpse, now picked clean, the trees shook.
"No!" Howard called. Hudson grabbed hold of him, and Howard was forced to just watch.
One of the raptors walked out from the trees, and towards the reinforcements.
One of the men whistled loudly, and together they all turned in the predator's direction.
Alone, the raptor could do little as the bullets bore into it. Within seconds, it fell lifelessly to the ground.
One of the men gestured to the others, and together more than thirty soldiers marched in formation into the trees.
The helicopter rose over the canopy, and Howard could see and hear the men executing the raptors, one by one.
The helicopter hovered for a few more moments as the pilot spoke into his radio, and then flew away from the village, over the coast and on towards the ocean.
Howard was later informed that not a single one of the reinforcements had been killed on the island, but had successfully exterminated the pack. If these, the most formidable of the dinosaurs, could be easily controlled with the right preparation and weaponry, then what of the others? Perhaps Hammond's dream had not been so impractical after all.
Howard was determined that Carl's death would not be in vain. Something had to result from the carnage. The shipwreck had compromised the mission; that much was clear. Perhaps a better-planned mission would succeed where this one had failed? Howard was determined that he would do better than his father had.
And could DX be cured? BioSyn would be the ones to find out.
The key to the ideas now flourishing in Howard's mind lay inside Hudson's pack. True, the embryos themselves had been mostly killed without a steady supply of liquid nitrogen – they only yielded a single Apatosaur infant, which died after a few weeks. And Jeffrey had never intended to actually use the embryos, only to research them. Howard would take the next move. The embryos provided a stepping-stone to new ideas in BioSyn; new blood, new advances. No longer would the company lower itself to the depths of industrial espionage. The legacy of Dodgson would be wiped clean.
Hudson was right. The ends justified the means.

----------------------------------------------------

Chapter Thirty-Eight
All the Best Cowboys Have Daddy Issues

We seem to have made up our minds to misunderstand what has happened; and we turn, with a sort of relief, to stating what will happen – which is apparently much easier.
– Gilbert Keith Chesterton

"Well that was an interesting story," Malcolm commented.
Rossiter was seated behind his desk, with Malcolm, Grant, Hemple, Levine, Jenny, Danny, Campbell, Becker, Doody and Abby all standing or seated around him in his spacious office. Doody and Abby had both entered during the story. Mason and Redfern were on guard in the corridor.
"Are dinosaurs on Sorna really dying out?" Grant asked. He was standing to the left of the desk, leaning against the wall.
"Yes," Rossiter replied. "Later surveys confirmed that the Tyrannosaurs, Apatosaurs and Stegosaurs were all completely gone, and the hadrosaurs and Carnotaurs on their last legs."
"The first animals to go extinct twice," Malcolm said.
Hemple stood up from the couch. "Becker. I think we've wasted enough time listening to irrelevant stories. We should go get help."
"Yeah," Becker agreed from a chair opposite him. "But I think I should stay behind. You take Mason. The Mini is parked outside. Speed is the safest way of going through the park. There are two more seats available, if anyone wants them."
"I'll go," Campbell said. "I've already heard what he…" he nodded in Rossiter's direction, "…has to say."
"I'll go too," Danny said.
"No," Campbell returned. "Uh… I mean, Levine should really go. He has more military experience, yeah?"
Levine looked a little taken aback. "Uh, well, yeah. Yeah, I'll go."
"OK", Hemple said. "We'll take our own weapons. Becker, you keep the rifle to guard this place, OK?"
"Of course," Becker replied. "Good luck."
The group exchanged glances and goodbyes, and left the office.
After a few moments, Danny made for the door.
"Where are you going?" Jenny asked.
"Becker said my bike's in the park. I'm going to get it back."
"Why are you doing this? Just stay here, let the professionals handle it."
"Yeah, see, I've never been all that good at taking orders." With that, Danny turned away and ran down the corridor.
"I cannot believe him," Jenny said, before sitting down on the couch.
After a few more moments, Rossiter spoke.
"It wasn't an 'irrelevant story'. That was where it all started. The idea for the park. The means for the park, however, came later…"

In 2003, Jeffrey Rossiter retired as CEO of BioSyn, and leadership of the company passed down to his son, Howard Rossiter. He pursued BioSyn's company policy far more aggressively than his father had.
Multiple missions to Isla Sorna yielded minimal results. InGen's technology had decayed, and was no longer usable. Study of the embryos was nigh-impossible. The ecosystem was continuing to collapse. Sightings of Carnotaurs ceased in 2004, and Triceratops in 2005. The lack of specimens hindered the already-slow research into a cure for DX.
The regular missions to Sorna had a very negative effect on BioSyn's finances. By 2005, they were in serious debt. Rossiter needed a source of revenue. And it came from thin air.
…
Howard Rossiter was sitting in his leather armchair in his Portland office. They'd had to move the headquarters here from California due to financial issues. He was going through the worrying financial statements relating to BioSyn. His backing within the company was on the wane. The support he had enjoyed upon coming to leadership, being seen as a fresh mind, had faded away. He needed a miracle.
"Howard Rossiter?"
Rossiter jumped from shock. He looked up to see a woman standing in the middle of the room.
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you coming in?" Rossiter said.
The dark-haired woman was dressed in a black business suit, and her hair was tied in a bun. She stretched out her hand, and smiled. "Hello, my name is Helen Cutter. I believe we may be able to do business."
…
The agreed meeting place was an Indian restaurant in downtown Portland, 'The Taj Mahal'. Rossiter arrived ten minutes early. Cutter had promised that she could save BioSyn from its crippling financial problems, and, being somewhat desperate, Rossiter had agreed to rendezvous somewhere quieter. The Taj Mahal was a small place, with only a few tables. There were only a few other people there when Rossiter arrived.
Cutter was a few minutes late. Her hair was no longer tied in a bun, and sat loose at her shoulders. She sat down opposite Rossiter.
"Sorry, I was held back, setting up a few things. Good evening," she said.
"Good evening, Ms. Cutter," Rossiter replied.
Cutter seemed to twitch in her seat when Rossiter called her that.
She began her business pitch. "I wanted to meet somewhere secluded, where we wouldn't be disturbed. I understand that BioSyn isn't having the best financial year. It seemed a shame for such a well-regarded company to fall, what with all the research you've done into Isla Sorna and the inhabitants there."
"You know about the island?"
"Yes, I've visited it. The quality of the attractions has declined somewhat in the last decade."
"Yes, InGen's creatures weren't quite perfected." Rossiter quite enjoyed discussing this openly with someone who knew what she was talking about.
"No, you're right. The whole cloning process seemed to be very difficult to perfect. The DNA is never complete, it's always decayed. The sad thing is that it just doesn't appear to be possible to create real dinosaurs again. InGen's dinosaurs were chimeras, hybrids; not real dinosaurs. And then DX happened."
"If you don't mind me asking, how exactly did you get to Sorna? Were you part of a team? An expedition?"
"No, I travelled alone. I always travel alone." She paused, and started looking nostalgically into space. "Whether it's the fern-prairies of Jurassic Colorado, or the humid swamps of Carboniferous Scotland…"
"Um, I'm sorry, I'm not quite following."
Cutter was jerked back to the present, and looked back to Rossiter. "OK, I'll show you."
…
They left the restaurant without ordering, and Cutter led Rossiter down the sidewalk. It was near midnight, with a cloudless sky. Cutter continued, down small lanes, under bridges and across busy streets. They shared occasional conversation, but Cutter seemed uninterested. She walked with purpose. And she refused to tell him where they were going, only to have faith.
After fifteen minutes of walking, she turned into an empty alleyway. It was a considerable distance from any other people, or habitation. Rossiter started to wonder how he'd got here, and why he'd followed a stranger across the city. But there was just something about her confidence that rubbed off on him.
Cutter took a device out from her pocket. Rossiter didn't get a chance to have a proper look at it. She pointed it into thin air, and pressed a button.
An explosion of silvery shards filled the air. Rossiter raised his hands to protect his face. However, the shards didn't fly outwards, and instead they were drawn back in around a central light. It was as if they were held by magnetism. This whole structure was just suspended in mid-air, floating and rotating.
Rossiter, dumbstruck, lowered his arms and just walked towards it.
"What is it?"
"It's called an anomaly. A magnetic occurrence. It holds enormous energy."
"It's beautiful."
Cutter smiled. "Stay here." Then she walked straight into it, and disappeared. The anomaly glowed for a second after she went through it.
A minute later, she returned, carrying a feathered creature on her shoulder.
"It's called Microraptor gui," she said. "It's a gliding dinosaur found around 120 million years ago, in China. They're quite friendly to mammals."
Rossiter walked over, and reached out his hand to the reptile. It nudged him with its beak. He patted its head. "How did you… how did you get him?"
"I found him. This anomaly," she pointed, "is a link to the ancient past. A doorway. Through it and others like it, I have observed hundreds, even thousands of extinct creatures. This Microraptor is just the tip of an iceberg."
Rossiter stared back at the anomaly for a moment. This seemed too good to be true. "Why have you come to us? To me?"
Helen sighed and stared into the anomaly. She held her hand to it, as if feeling the warmth of a fire. "I made a mistake. I thought I had it figured out. I thought I could change the past. But I had it wrong. And there were… regrettable consequences." She turned back to Rossiter. "I've come to you because I want to set things straight. I want to share this amazing gift with the world. I missed an opportunity to do it before, and I'm not going to miss this one. BioSyn is the company most capable of taking up this vision. I need a platform upon which to reveal this to the public. Perhaps a few choice creatures first, on display, in a park setting."
"A second Jurassic Park?"
"Yes, but in a more accessible locale. This needs to be shared with the world, not only the wealthy."
Rossiter still had doubts, but there were few. "BioSyn can't afford that sort of thing at present…"
"I'll provide the funds. Rossiter, this is what needs to happen." She drew closer. "Will you be the one to drive BioSyn forwards, into the future? The world, no less. Will it be you?"
…
He told the company that he, along with his unseen research partner, Helen Cutter, had unlocked the secret of time-travel. Helen's influence had a noticeable effect on Rossiter's confidence. Once again, he commanded the support of the majority of BioSyn. They decided to tell the world that the creatures were cloned at first, before revealing the anomalies to the scientific community. They started construction on a wildlife park in the Florida Everglades, with forest, grassland and scrub. It would be the perfect habitat for the prehistoric creatures to feel at home in. It would be a brilliant spectacle to behold. They'd also moved the BioSyn headquarters once again, to Miami.
Helen agreed to help in research into DX in any way she could. Research was slow-going, though. They set up a facility in Miami to research a cure, and sought out old InGen researchers and prominent members of their field, like Doctor April Thorpe, who was eventually put in charge of the research.
It all hinged on the anomalies. Helen knew the locations of several key anomalies, and had an idea of how to transport them. Anomalies cling to magnetite, so a magnetite casing could box in and hold an anomaly. Then, the magnetite case could be transported across land and sea to Florida, where the anomaly would be held. Helen assured them that they could collect all the anomalies together on one spot, where she could open or close each one at will. It was eventually decided to hold all the anomalies at the facility. There, the anomalies' unique electromagnetic properties could provide a substantial supply of electricity, which Helen insisted could power the park single-handedly. She was right.
The expeditions to Isla Sorna did not cease. This time, to avoid incidents like the one in 1997, Helen arranged for an anomaly site to be transported to Sorna, while the other end was placed in the facility with the rest. This way, teams could be sent there without much danger. They gathered some of the remaining specimens to be studied. The ones which were deemed to be clear were introduced to the park. The ones that weren't were kept in a separate area of the facility.
Then there was Helen's workforce. She had used future technology to replicate one man over and over again. These 'replicas' followed her every command. This technology she declined to share with BioSyn. Rossiter understood this. She couldn't let this kind of technology loose, as it would breach basic human rights. She did assure Rossiter , however, that the man she had replicated was alive and well, and that she had asked first.
Helen became Howard's regular adviser. In this regard, she replaced Howard's father, Jeffrey. The aging man found himself more and more marginalised in BioSyn affairs. His meetings with his son were more and more regularly dominated by Jeffrey's apprehension over Howard's plans. Eventually, they ceased altogether.
And so, five years after he first met Helen, Howard sat with her in his Miami office on the day before opening day. They had revealed the park to the press, and were just waiting for the guests to get their tickets. They'd arranged to contact three scientists: Alan Grant, Ian Malcolm and Richard Levine, and invited them to the park to check out the enclosures. All three had had previous experience with Isla Nublar or Isla Sorna, and if they agreed to endorse this park, it would prove to be a boon to their public image. As it happened, Levine came to them, seemingly eager to check out the creatures. This had buoyed Rossiter's confidence following the refusal of other survivors to visit the park – Ellie Sattler, Sarah Harding, Gerry Harding, Robert Muldoon and Jack Thorne. Helen wasn't particularly at ease with inviting the scientists, particularly Malcolm, for some reason. And, as the opening day drew closer, Helen had become increasingly worried about a team from the British Anomaly Research Centre arriving at the park.
Rossiter stood away from the desk, and stepped out to face the window. Helen stood out beside him. "Are you nervous?" she asked.
"Incredibly. All those people, down there on the streets. We're about to show them what we've discovered. It boggles my mind." He turned to face her. "I can't tell you how thankful I am that you stepped into my world. You've changed everything. You've been unbelievable. I…"
The intercom on the glass-plate desk buzzed.
"Mr. Rossiter," the voice of his secretary said, "your father is here to see you."
"Good," Howard replied, "send him in."
"He won't want to see me," Helen told Howard.
"You don't have to leave for him. You saved his company. He should respect you."
Helen smiled. "You tell him what you've told me so many times." Then she slipped away, around the bookcase, and hid from view.
The door opened, and an elderly, white-haired Jeffrey Rossiter walked into the room.
"Hello Dad," Howard said with a slight smile. "How are things? Retirement going well?"
Jeffrey gave his son an apprehensive look. "Howard, I haven't much time. I have a business appointment about one of my investments, in half an hour."
"Been keeping busy then?" Howard interjected, trying to soften the mood.
"Howard, I need to speak to you about your project..."
"My idea! My... project... to reinvigorate the company! Your company! To ring in a new age of prosperity for us!"
"Son, I just wanted to make sure you know what you're doing! This project is not any ordinary one. Remember John Hammond!"
Howard took a step back. Then, catching his breath, "Father, I promise you that I understand entirely what I am doing. This will change BioSyn forever. My God, it will change the world!"
"Howard, that woman is trouble!"
The younger man paused. "Father, are you quite finished?"
Jeffrey put a hand on his son's shoulder. But the look on his face was one of resignation. Howard hadn't heeded his father's warnings much so far, and Jeffrey was unlikely to expect him to now. "Just be careful. Goodbye." He then turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.
"Well, that was quite the family feuding there!" Helen said from her hiding-place. She walked back into view. "Well, as they say, all the best cowboys have daddy issues!"
Howard smiled.

"That's my story. From the beginning, to the present. I believe you all know the rest."
"And you haven't hidden anything from us?" Becker asked.
"The spying was Helen's idea. I must confess, I've never heard her speak about kidnapping, though. Perhaps Ketterman went rogue?"
"He didn't seem all that professional, if I'm being honest," Becker concurred. "And nothing else?"
Howard sighed. Now was as good a time as any. "There is one more thing." He turned around to the plasma screen behind him. "It has its own power-"
The plasma screen flickered. It revealed a popup on the screen, accompanied by a computerish bleep. 'Incoming call'.
"What's that?" Becker asked.
"My last bargaining chip," Howard admitted. "It has a separate power-supply. But it can only receive calls, not make them."
He reached under the screen and pulled out a keyboard stand. He grabbed the mouse, and clicked to receive the call. The screen revealed a group of men facing them. At the centre was the Vice-President of the United States. He was surrounded by notable members of the federal government.
A text popup appeared on the screen.
'We apologise for the lack of sound in this contact link.'
Rossiter typed back. 'Thank you for seeing us, Mister Vice-President.'
Becker stood up and approached the keyboard. "I think one of us should take it from here…"
"No, no, Captain," Howard replied. "I feel I should speak for myself here."
A second text popup appeared. 'Howard Rossiter, can you confirm that an incident has occurred at Everglades Land of Time, resulting in the escape of the creatures held within?'
Howard typed back. 'I can confirm that.'
Another popup. 'Howard Rossiter, federal law has broken in this case. We are obliged to send in the Army to rescue survivors, and shut down the park. We need to know that your security forces will co-operate.'
Rossiter made to reply. 'What security forces we do have will co-operate. We have suffered severe casualties, and may have been the victim of sabotage by an unknown party. We need-'
Before he could press enter, the screen went black.
"What happened?" Jenny asked, a tinge of panic in her voice.
"Dammit, the screen's dead…" Howard searched around the back, trying various switches. Becker helped him. Neither of them saw success.
Howard sat back down on his seat. "Don't worry, they're sending help anyway. We need to just stay put."
All together, they turned their heads at the sound of footsteps coming down the corridor.
"That was quick," Malcolm said, half-jokingly.
They all waited with bated breath to see who was to come through the door.
The door-handle turned.
The door opened.
"Connor!" Abby exclaimed. She limped over to hug him, and he, rather stiffly, reciprocated, smiling.
He was soon followed by Keeper Amy McCoy, and the receptionist, Brian Lambert. On one hand, Howard was glad they'd survived. On the other hand, he wondered why they would have left the safety of the visitor centre.
One final figure stepped through the door. It was Keeper Vincent Scott. He looked around the room, as people walked over to embrace the survivors. Then he fixed his gaze on Rossiter. A look of hatred flickered in his eyes.
Scott walked straight towards him, grabbed him by the neck, and punched him straight across the face. Howard was cast to the floor. He felt blood on his cheek. Scott lifted him again, and pummelled him again, this time on the other cheek. The keeper looked exhausted, traumatized, and infuriated.
Captain Becker demobilized Scott by twisting his arms behind his back. Becker pulled the keeper back. He struggled, and eventually Becker loosened his grip. Howard pushed himself off the floor to see the shocked faces of the other survivors. He sat on the couch again, the only person sitting down. As Scott pulled his arms free, he pointed straight at Rossiter and exclaimed at the top of his ragged voice. "It's all his fault! He's probably told a really nice story about how he's some sort of visionary, but he's a liar. I know. And a coward. And he's failed."
Rossiter looked up at everyone. Some still looked shocked, others confused. A few looked straight at him. And they seemed to believe Scott.
XXXX
The Vice President of the United States looked into the black screen. "What happened?"
"Something on their end," one of the technicians informed him.
Then, a solitary popup appeared on the screen. It must have been from them.
'BioSyn will never surrender to the US government.'
The Vice President looked to his cabinet. "Operation Peacekeeper is a go."
…
Captain Jake Hemple was driving through a wildlife park in a half-crushed Mini Cooper, with a soldier, a head-keeper and a secret agent. In all of his training at Sandhurst, he'd never imagined he'd end up in this situation.
They were driving around the outskirts of the park to avoid the interior, where they imagined most of the creatures would be on the prowl.
Hemple braked harshly at the sight of a fallen tree completely blocking the road.
"What's the best way around?" Hemple called back to Head-Keeper Campbell, in the back seat with Levine.
"To avoid the interior, we'll have to skirt around the Rex enclosure. There are a few staff-only paths around there."
Hemple reversed away and followed Campbell's directions. Campbell had to get out to open one of the staff-only gates. While he was outside, something caught his eye in the shrubbery beyond the gate, opposite the enclosure fencing. He walked over to get a closer look.
"What is it?" Hemple called out the window.
"It's a door… I've never seen it before…"
Hemple got out of the car and walked over to where Campbell was looking. Mason and Levine followed in his wake. The bushes and trees had been cut down recently to make a path through the forest, and a few feet in, a hatch-door was barely visible, partially buried in the mud. It looked as if it had only been unearthed recently.
Hemple approached the door, and cleared away some of the earth with his hands. He drew his pistol and banged the door. It was steel. And the glass window in the centre was thick. He holstered his pistol again.
"There must be a latch…" Hemple muttered as he searched the surrounding leaf-litter. Eventually, he felt a piece of metal with his hand, and pulled back. It was stiff, but eventually turned clockwise by ninety degrees. Then Hemple searched for another one. By now, the other three had come closer, and were helping.
After a few moments, Mason found the second latch and pulled back.
Together, they both pulled their latches upwards and the hatch opened.
They let the door rest backwards on its hinges, and all four men peered into the tunnel beneath them. A ladder led down into darkness. Hemple took out a torch and pointed it into the tunnel. The floor wasn't too far.
"There might be other survivors down there…" he said, as he grabbed onto the highest rung, and started to climb down.
The four men reached the floor one after another. Hemple was the first, and decided to use his torch to look around. This horizontal tunnel had hexagonal walls, with pipes and leads running along it. It twisted and turned, so the torchlight couldn't illuminate much.
Once Levine, the last climber, reached the floor, the team marched deeper into the tunnel together.
"So, you've never seen this tunnel?" Hemple asked Head-Keeper Campbell.
"No," Campbell replied. "That door must have been hidden until today. I've got a feeling Rossiter's been hiding a lot from his own staff."
Campbell, clearly more curious than the others to find out where this tunnel led, took the lead.
After a while, the tunnel brightened. There was another source of light further in. The light intensified the further they went.
Campbell turned a corner, and briefly disappeared from view.
"Guys," he called back. "I think I found what this place is for."
"What did you find?" Hemple asked. "More survivors?"
"I guess you could say that…"
Hemple followed him around the corner, and for a moment he was forced to shield his eyes from the intense white light. Then, his eyes acclimatized. He could barely believe what he could now see.
They were standing on a steel balcony, overlooking a huge room. It was well-lit by several bulbs lining the ceiling, and white walls that reflected the light. Their balcony was one of many around the walls, at various different heights. All of them were connected to the floor by staircases on either side. But these were all minor details compared to what had caught Campbell's gaze, and now caught Hemple's.
The room was filled with black-dressed men, all standing in single-file, and facing the same direction; towards one balcony to Hemple's left. Campbell took out his binoculars to get a better look.
"There's no one at that balcony, yet," he said.
"Could I have those a moment, please?" Hemple whispered. Campbell gave him the binoculars, and he looked through them. He immediately recognised the figures.
They were Helen Cutter's replicas; identical men without free will. And there was a whole army of them, at least three hundred.
Something was about to happen. Hemple could sense it. And it was going to be big.
…
Lieutenant Owen Clarke sat in the plane, having been kept awake the whole night only by coffee and music. The soldiers were stirring, and some awake. The beaming sun of morning Miami shone down on them.
The ARC division of the operation were about to touch down in Miami, and meet up with Delta Force. Then, they were to go into the park, with as little trouble as possible.
Operation: Peacekeeper was finally here.

-------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------
END OF ACT TWO
-------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------

Life Finds a Way: The BioSyn Incident - a Primeval/Jurassic Park novel crossover fanfic (Act 1)

Fri, 01 Oct 2010 18:58:17 GMT

Life Finds a Way

The BioSyn Incident

By Totemaster, AC & JungleTrooper

Synopsis: It’s finally happened. A genetics company known as BioSyn has opened a new theme park, exhibiting prehistoric creatures as the main attractions. Mankind’s dream of being able to resurrect extinct species has finally come true, thanks to the wonders of genetic engineering. But something is not as it seems. Before they know it, the ARC team find themselves at the centre of a sinister plot, dating back twenty years, to an event simply known as the InGen incident. And how does this relate to the anomalies?

Authors’ note: Hello, dear readers. This is a little something I and two others have been working on for these past two years. This is a crossover between Primeval and the Jurassic Park novels (rather than the films). We hope that it will be to your liking. Special thanks to our wonderful beta reader, miss Rokkenbosche.

In memory of Michael Crichton, 1942 – 2008
R.I.P.

Prologue
Trespassing

It was getting late. County Sheriff Barry Jefferson looked up from his work, and sat back in his chair. This had been one tough case. There was so much paperwork that needed doing.
He looked at the clock. 04:15. Damn it’s late, he thought to himself. Way too late for doing paperwork, in his opinion.
Suddenly, the phone rang. He picked it up.
“Hello,” he said. “Jefferson here.”
“Hello sir,” said the voice. “This is Sergeant Harris. We just got a report in about some kids trespassing on some privately owned land.”
“Okay,” Barry said. “I’ll meet you at my office in five minutes.”

A tropical storm raged as the two officers drove out to where the trespassers had been reported. It was on the outskirts of Miami, where the suburbs ended and the Everglades began. They stepped out of the police car. The sound of distant techno music could be heard. There seemed to be a party going on in the distance.
The sheriff peered into the thicket. The moon shone through the branches of the cypress trees, bathing the dense undergrowth in a faint, eerie light.
Suddenly there was a rustling sound in the bushes about thirty feet away, and the sound of snapping twigs.
“Hello?” Sergeant Harris shouted. He turned his torch on, and pointed it to where the sound had come from. The branches of the bushes were still waving about.
“Did you see anything, Sergeant?” Barry asked his colleague.
“No sir, but I think there may be somebody in those bushes over there,” the Sergeant said, pointing into the thicket. They could still hear something moving.
Sighing, the sheriff walked out into the forest, and Sergeant Harris followed.
The storm eased and calmed as they made their way through the foliage. It was now strangely quiet in the swamp. Not a single frog or cicada sung. There was no sound to be heard, except for the footsteps of the two officers, and those of the people just ahead of them.
Suddenly, and without warning, there was a loud crunching sound that seemed to dominate the total silence. Barry spun around. Sergeant Harris had trodden on an empty beer can.
The sounds ahead of them stopped for a second, but then continued, growing steadily fainter.
“Geez,” Harris said, picking up the empty beer can. “Haven’t these kids ever heard of a trash can?”
Harris froze. He was staring at something behind the sheriff.
Jefferson turned around, and saw something that sent a chill down his spine. Something that looked distinctly human lay in the reeds. Whatever it was, it did not move.
“Hello?” Barry said, hoping for a response. “Are you okay there?” But there was no response.
The two men ran over to where the figure lay. This person could be injured. Once they got there, Barry’s stomach turned. In the reeds lay a boy in his late teens. He wasn’t just injured.
He was dead.
His throat and torso had been torn open. Many of the internal organs were missing, and it looked almost as though they had been ripped out.
Further on, they found four more people lying dead in the grass. Two boys and two girls. All of them had been mutilated in this same fashion. It looked almost as though they had been savaged by a wild animal.
“My God. . .” Harris said, turning pale. “What the hell happened here?”
A cry broke the silence. It was an unholy shriek, unlike anything on this Earth. This primal war cry was answered with a hiss, and then two large, dark shapes began moving through the reeds, towards the two officers.
“Run!” screamed Barry, as the dark shapes moved faster and faster towards him and Harris. Barry ran. He just ran. Behind him, Sergeant Harris screamed, and fell to the ground. Barry heard the hissing pant of the creatures, and knew that it would only be a matter of time before they killed him as well.
The blow was swift and without mercy. Barry fell to the ground and felt the creature leap onto his back and dig its sharp claws deep into his shoulders. He tried to fight the assailant off but it was too strong. He felt a searing, fiery pain in his throat and knew that the creature was biting him.
The last thing Barry Jefferson saw before he lost consciousness was scaly skin, a long snout, and a pair of glaring, emotionless yellow eyes.

Chapter One
Fine-Tuning

The city was in danger again.

Nick Cutter crouched down in the bushes. His breathing slowed to a standstill, and he tried to sit completely motionless.

He searched his surroundings. He couldn’t see anything.

In the corner of his eye, he noticed something to his left.

He turned.

The raptor had crouched to his level in the bush.

It hissed.

“Clever girl,” Cutter whispered, an air of contempt seeping through his words.

It pounced.

Cutter lifted his arms to protect himself. As the reptile slammed into him, he dropped his pistol.

Cutter fell backwards onto the ground, and the raptor landed on top of him.

“Hey!”

The raptor made a sound that Cutter could only describe as a hiss-howl. It lifted up, and looked towards the source of the call.

Cutter backed out from underneath it, and stood up a few yards away from it. Above the bushes, he saw Connor pointing a pistol at it.

The raptor paused, and just looked at Connor. It sniffed and hissed. It was as if it recognised him.

Soon, though, curiosity gave way to anger, and it charged at him.

Connor reacted. He fired his gun, catching the raptor’s flank a few yards away from him. It convulsed and bellowed, as the dart hit home.

Connor dodged just as it fell onto the grass right in front of him.

It twitched.

It raised its head, and attempted to stand.

In panic, Connor fired a second dart.

The raptor collapsed again. Its heavy breathing stopped.

Cutter approached the body of the raptor. He and Connor stood over the raptor, as the soldiers arrived.

“That might have been an overdose,” said Cutter.

“Is it just me, or does it look really weird?” Connor asked, crouching down to get a better look.

“It has no feathers,” Cutter agreed. “That makes no sense…”

“Maybe it’s diseased. Like, with a prehistoric version of rabies.”

Cutter lowered down to the carcass too, thinking. “Maybe.”

****

Two Weeks Later…

Connor Temple stood in the middle of the ARC. He was busily working at a large piece of equipment. It was a bizarre shape. It looked, if anything, like a laser gun from a science-fiction movie. Surprisingly, its mechanism wasn’t all that different. It fired a concentrated arc of electricity. Its purpose, however, was very different.

It was designed to fire at, and nullify, a source of electromagnetic interference.

When it was put like that, it all sounded very scientific and boring. But Connor knew how it was best put. This ‘source of electromagnetic interference’ was a hole in time. To keep some air of seriousness, these time-holes were called ‘anomalies’. These rips in the space-time continuum provided doorways through to different time periods, the past or the future. An anomaly allowed any person, animal or object to travel through it. It all sounded fine, but the trouble was it allowed any creature through it, and that meant creatures from the distant past – or even the future – could end up causing havoc in the modern day.

Enter the ARC. This government operation investigated anomalies, and the creatures that came through them. The whole operation was centred on a base in London, the Anomaly Research Centre – the ARC. It had scientists working on both the creatures and the anomalies themselves, and plenty of military backup. James Lester was the government official overseeing the whole operation.

And then, there was the ARC team itself. A group of four mavericks, whose job it was to track and contain the creatures which came through. Connor was one of them. Their leader had been Professor Nick Cutter, and professor of evolutionary science. His right-hand man had been Stephen Hart, his old lab technician, and a man who knew how to handle wild animals. And then, there was Abby Maitland, a zookeeper at Wellington Zoo, and now an expert at catching the creatures. She and Connor were considerably closer to each other than Stephen or Cutter – or at least, Connor liked to think so.

Connor himself had designed a detector for anomalies, which could pinpoint them exactly.

But, they still couldn’t control anomalies – until now.

When a concentrated arc of electricity was aimed at an open anomaly, it would completely lock it. While the anomaly was still visible, it was impossible to travel through it. While normal anomalies all eventually disappeared again, a locked anomaly stayed put. Connor had considered the possibility of using them for controlled time-travel, but that would be some time away yet.

It was the biggest breakthrough in months, and Connor was in charge of it. Now it was nearly finished, it just needed some fine-tuning.

Connor paused at his work. Cutter had always been there, encouraging him, helping him. He’d been the calming influence, a father figure. But all that had changed just a few weeks ago.

First, Stephen was killed some months earlier, thanks to Helen Cutter – Nick’s ex-wife, a very dangerous woman who had spent the last nine years travelling through the anomalies, through different eras of the past. Only recently had she revealed herself, and she would always come back when Cutter or Stephen had something she wanted.

Stephen sacrificed himself heroically to save the world from her menagerie of predators. Then she came back, and attacked the ARC. She blew it up, and Cutter only just escaped the blast. He showed himself to be the better of the two by running back into the burning building to save Helen, before she shot him. Connor had run in after Cutter, but was unable to save him.

The memory of Cutter dying in his arms still haunted Connor to this day. Even now, at the workstation, thinking about him, Connor had to stop himself from cracking.

The knowledge that Cutter would have wanted him to finish the locker, compelled Connor onwards in his work, to finish what Cutter had started.

“Hey you!”

Connor jumped and turned around to see Abby standing behind him.

“Err, hey!” he replied shyly, still shaken.

“How’s it going?” she inquired, looking over the impressive machine.

“Err, yeah, it’s good! It’s going good. It just needs some fine-tuning now.”

“So,” Abby got down to business. “You found a new place to stay?”

Abby's brother had moved into Abby's flat temporarily, and so, Connor had had to find a new place to stay at short notice.

“Yeah! Duncan’s letting me crash for a while. As long as it’s not permanent!” he lied. He hadn’t even asked Duncan. Their last encounter had not been on good terms. Connor’s job at the ARC had got in the way of their friendship, and it led to the death of Tom, Connor and Duncan’s good friend. Duncan hadn’t spoken to him since, and Connor hadn’t made any effort. So, partly out of determination that she would not worry about him, some embarrassment and a little bit of pride, he lied.

Having taken all his stuff out this morning, Connor had gone to work early, and left all his stuff in one of the dorm rooms. By tonight, he would be homeless. Sid and Nancy, the prehistoric Diictodons stuck in the present after their anomaly closed, were also here.

Connor was not happy about moving out, but he had little choice. Now he was out, he wondered, would he be able to get back in? When he first moved into her flat, he was out of a place. This time he had a place (as far as she knew), so it would be a matter of if she wanted him back.

“Quite a piece of kit you’ve got here!” Abby remarked, returning to the locker.

“Well yeah, but it saved us from a pack of G-Rex, didn’t it?” Connor reminded her of their last anomaly, and the fearsome carnivorous dinosaur that came through. The locker had only just saved them from a whole group following through.

“I can’t believe those things hunted in packs! Surely one’s enough!” Abby said.

“Well, there’s evidence that many giant meat-eating dinosaurs hunted together to bring down large prey,” Connor showed off his extensive knowledge of prehistory. “We were really lucky that the whole pack didn’t come through!” He paused. “Or unlucky that the locker broke before the first one attacked…”

Abby cracked a smile. She stepped a little closer, and lowered her voice.

“How are Sid and Nancy?” she asked.

Connor’s face dropped. With the work on the locker, he’d forgotten to check on them all morning. Before Abby could ask him what was wrong, he invented some more: “They’re doing good. Duncan’s not best pleased, but they’ll grow on him!”

“Great!”

Connor needed an excuse to check on them quickly, before he dug himself into an even bigger hole…

He feigned concern at his watch. “Oh, is that the time? I’ve gotta run, I have to check on the… the anomaly defragrellator!”

“The what?”

“It… uhm… you know, it defragrellates anomalies! Obviously! So, um, listen, I’ve gotta run, before it overheats, and you don’t want that! Bye!”

Abby was left standing confused as Connor disappeared into the nearest corridor.

Connor rushed into the dorm. The room was usually quite empty, used occasionally by overnight staff. Now, it was full of all his possessions. His clothes, a coat-stand, and beneath a blanket, a carrier-box for a cat. Inside, Connor hoped he would find Sid and Nancy where he had left them that morning.

He lifted the cloth to reveal just one Diictodon, Sid. He was peering through a hole in the caging.

“Nancy, where are you?” Connor whispered. They were not easy pets to keep, but even he did not expect them to gnaw through metal. They were expert burrowers, with giant tusk-like teeth. Despite this, they were undeniably cute.

Connor panicked. He stood bolt-upright, and frantically searched around the room. “Nancy! Where are you hiding? This isn’t a playground!”

He heard a grunting noise. He followed it underneath the bed. He lifted the covers to see the little reptile chewing on one of the legs.

Connor sighed with relief. He reached in, grabbed her, and pulled her out. Despite her struggling, he kept hold of her. He then took off his jacket and covered the unsuspecting escapist. Once wrapped, she calmed down and stopped writhing.

“Connor!”

Connor wheeled around to see Jenny Lewis standing in the doorway looking bemused at his position, crouched under the bed.

“Hi!” he quickly stuffed Nancy under the bed again and stood up. He didn’t want Jenny to realise Connor was planning to stay here.

“What’s all this stuff?” she asked.

“Err,” Connor was forced to lie again, “It’s some stuff for the locker.”

Jenny looked curiously around at the blankets and clothes draped over the fixtures. She then looked up at him. “Why have you taken your jacket off?”

Connor was taken unawares. “Oh! Don’t you think it’s a bit stuffy in here?”

Jenny glanced around the perfectly air-conditioned room, and gave him an odd look.

“Well, you see, I’ve been out jogging, and I’m still a bit… hot after that!”

“You look fine to me!”

“I hide it well!”

“But…”

“Enough about me, ey, how’re you? How’s Jenny?”

Jenny sat down. “Not too well, actually. I mean, what with that Giga… Gia…”

“Giganotosaurus. Or G-Rex.”

“Yeah, that. I mean, I’ve not been sleeping properly.”

“Well, it’s not the most peaceful job in the world!” Connor replied.

“Exactly,” Jenny replied. “It’s not what I expected. Not exactly my dream-job.”

Connor was startled at this sudden heart-to-heart. He and Jenny had never been particularly close. Out of everyone, Jenny had been closest to Cutter, and now she seemed a lot less… at peace… with herself. She was shaken, but Connor admired her resilience.

Connor decided to change the subject. He searched for one to change to – the weather? No, too light. Wolverine vs Spiderman? Nah, too nerdy…

“So, Danny Quinn, ey? Where does he get off?”

“Well, his constant attempts at heroism are starting to grate.” Jenny replied, clearly ready to get this off her chest. “I mean, who does he think he is? This is a serious government operation!”

Nancy grunted loudly from beneath the bed.

As Jenny looked over, Connor covered. He cleared his throat loudly. “Uhm! I wonder if he’ll be back!”

“I hope not. Anyway, I must go, there’s work to do. Those health-and-safety forms won’t fill out themselves!” She stood up, waved goodbye, and walked out.

Connor closed the door behind her. He then returned to the bed, and pulled out a struggling Nancy. He quickly returned her to Sid’s side. What am I going to do with you two?, he thought.

Dishonesty was not in Connor’s nature, and he would avoid it if he could, but his prehistoric pets had driven him to it.

Quickly, he did a makeshift repair job, using a nearby plastic tray and some masking tape. It would do until he had more free time, once the locker was properly fixed. He promised them they would have a more attractive home by tonight, made sure to close the door behind him, and returned to his work-station.

XXXX

Sarah Page was alone. Cut off from the rest of the ARC personnel, in her lonely study, cleaning dirt off an ancient “artefact” which was somehow important. It was certainly quite ancient – though since discovering the anomalies, she was having trouble comprehending time anymore.

She wasn’t a zoologist like Cutter, or a techno-wizard like Connor. Her area of expertise was archaeology and ancient civilizations. Cutter had invited her to join the ARC team to help investigate mythical creatures, and see if they link to prehistoric creatures, allowing them to see when anomalies had opened in the past. Using their research, Cutter had built an accurate model for predicting anomalies. But in Helen’s attack, it was destroyed in the explosion.

In his final moments, Cutter gave Connor a strange artefact that he had retrieved from Helen. It was important, but he didn’t know what it was. Now, Connor was determined to discover its purpose. Sarah had taken the first step, scraping away the layer of dirt on it, and seeing what lay beneath. It was not thrilling work, but somebody had to do it.

“Why is this significant?” she thought.

XXXX

Christine Johnson stood in her office, with Captain Wilder at her side.

“How is the operation going?” she asked him.

“Our men on the inside are still feeding us information. Any anomaly opens, we’ll have word of it as soon as they do.” Wilder dutifully replied.

“Good. I’ll have this artefact one way or another. Dismissed.”

As Wilder left, Christine sat down at her desk. James Lester would regret ever crossing her. This operation would go quickly and without major incident. She knew the whole ARC operation inside-out, and she knew the artefact was in the complex. All she needed now was some sort of catalyst. Something that would distract the ARC team for long enough. With the repair work, there had been too much activity in the complex – it would be impossible to enter and steal the Artefact, unnoticed. The anomaly at the airport had given them a short-lived window of opportunity, but the repairs, and all the activity in the complex, made it impossible to enter and steal the Artefact unnoticed. Now, though, an anomaly alert would do just nicely.

She heard a knock on the door.

“Who is it?”

“Captain Wilder! We have some news.”

“Come in.”

Wilder entered. He handed her a file. Christine looked over it, and a sinister smile crept across her face.

“Looks like we have a new job for the ARC team!”

Chapter Two
A Good Day Spoilt

The babies lay huddled together in the nest. Their mother was nowhere to be seen, nor was any other member of the pack. Nor were there any trees, under which to seek shelter from the scorching heat of the sun. At first glance, it might have looked as though these babies were merely sleeping, but in reality that was not the case.

They were dead, and had been for almost 65 million years. In the badlands of 21st Century Montana, the fossilized clutch of dinosaur hatchlings was being excavated.

Dr. Alan Grant looked up from his work and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He was a barrel-chested man of about sixty, with grey hair. His untidy beard, that was once brown, had now also faded into greyish-white.

Grant, and his team of palaeontologists, had recently discovered three fossilized dinosaur nests, all in close proximity of each other. It appeared to be a kind of communal nesting ground, belonging to the Late Cretaceous theropod dinosaur Dromaeosaurus albertensis. Of this, Grant and his colleagues could be certain, because all the nests discovered so far had contained the fossilized remains of hatchlings and juveniles.

The bones of these young dinosaurs were beautifully preserved, but they were extremely fragile, and could break at the slightest touch. Even on these tiny babies, it was possible to see the characteristic sickle-shaped ‘killing claw’ on the second toe, a feature present on all members of the family Dromaeosauridae. Such well-preserved fossils, particularly those of juvenile animals, were uncommon in the fossil record, so this new find was very important.

This was not the first time that Grant had made such a discovery. Some twenty years earlier, he and his colleague Dr. Sattler had come across the skeleton of a baby raptor, a member of the dromaeosaur family. It was the first complete skeleton of an infant carnivorous dinosaur ever discovered in the United States.

Grant continued to brush the dirt off the hatchlings, revealing more of their anatomy. It was amazing, he thought, just how birdlike these creatures really were. The dinosaurs’ forelimbs were folded up against their bodies, in much the same way that a modern bird would fold its wings.

But looking at these creatures also brought back an unpleasant memory. 20 years ago, shortly after the discovery of the juvenile raptor, an eccentric billionaire named John Hammond had invited Dr. Grant, Dr. Sattler and a several other people to Isla Nublar, a privately owned tropical island just off the coast of Costa Rica. Mr. Hammond owned a high-tech genetics company called InGen, and on Isla Nublar, this company had brought back dinosaurs by extracting ingested blood from the stomachs of prehistoric mosquitoes trapped in amber. InGen had brought these creatures back in order to create a kind of ‘dinosaur zoo’, known as Jurassic Park. Unfortunately, there was a power failure at Jurassic Park, allowing some of prehistory’s most dangerous creatures to roam free, killing as they pleased. Even to this day, the memories of that park still haunted Grant. He still remembered the raptors they had there; eight-foot-long predators, which hunted in packs and were extremely aggressive towards humans in their environment. They were intelligent, fast and surprisingly strong for their size. What Grant remembered the most about them however, was how birdlike their motion and behaviour had been. And that’s what had scared him the most.

“Hey, Dr. Grant!” Grant was suddenly interrupted from his work.

He recognised the voice. “Hello, Mr. Clemens,” Grant replied, without looking up from his work. It was Gerard Clemens, one of the people who were funding the dig site. He was a tall, thin businessman of about thirty-five.

“Dr. Grant, could I have a word with you please? In private?” Clemens said, with a slightly ominous tone to his voice. Grant looked up. This couldn’t be good. Mr. Clemens usually only showed up at the dig site when something was wrong.

“Sure.”

They went inside one of the trailers, and both took a seat.

“So, Mr. Clemens, what did you want to discuss with me?” Grant asked.

“I’m really, really sorry, Dr. Grant,” Clemens said, “but because of the recession, I’m afraid the funds to this site will have to be cut.”

“What?” Grant said, not quite believing what he was hearing, “But please, we’ve made a scientific discovery that could completely change the way we think of dinosaur behaviour. If we could only have a little more time to finish what we--”

“I know that this isn’t desirable,” Clemens interrupted, “but I’m afraid it’s not up to me. Believe me, if I had a choice then I’d let you continue with your work, but unfortunately that just doesn’t seem to be possible right now.”

Grant didn’t know what to say. Everything had been going pretty well up until recently. When the recession hit, the prices of the supplies used for fossil hunting had gone up, and Grant knew that this dig was steadily becoming more and more difficult to maintain.

“Look,” said Clemens, “since you’re in charge of this team, I’m going to have to ask you to sign this, please.” He handed him a contract.

Grant took the leaf of paper and read through it. According to the contract, the team now had a week to finish their work, pack up and leave. “Certainly,” Grant said, with a bitter look. He signed the paper.

“Thank you for your time, Dr. Grant,” Clemens said, shaking Grant’s hand.

They stepped out of the trailer, and Mr. Clemens walked back towards his car.

Grant looked around at his colleagues. Many of them had only just finished University. They were young people, inspired to search for clues to the ancient past, just as he had been, so many years ago. And soon, all these people would be out of a job. It seemed that the general public just wasn’t interested in dinosaurs anymore.

It saddened him.

“Hey everyone,” Grant shouted to the others, “Could I have your attention, please?” This was not going to be pleasant…

The rest of the day felt awkward and uncomfortable. The team continued to dig, but the morale was gone. A week would not be enough to finish excavating the nest. Their best hope now was to dig up as much as they could, and get the local authorities to protect the site once Grant’s team was gone.

All of a sudden, there was the sound of a car engine, and a large jeep pulled over just down the hill from the dig site. Out of the jeep stepped a tall, thinly built man, wearing black clothes and dark sunglasses. His hair was black in colour, and he appeared to be slightly younger than Dr. Grant. He started walking up the hill, towards the site.

At first, Grant didn’t recognize him, but then he realized that this man seemed somewhat familiar.

The man continued walking towards the site.

Suddenly, Grant realized who this man was. He had met him, 20 years ago. When he went to Jurassic Park.

“Ian Malcolm?” Grant called.

“Hello, Grant,” Malcolm called as he walked up, and shook the palaeontologist’s hand.

“What brings you here?” Grant asked, taken by surprise.

Malcolm gave him a serious look. “You haven’t heard?”

XXXX

Today was a good day in the world of James Lester.

He sat in his comfortable chair, at his large desk, in his spacious office, overlooking a massive base of (mostly) professional personnel who all followed his orders. He was dressed in his smart suit, sitting comfortably, thumbing through papers. And in front of him were two of the highest-ranking soldiers in Britain, who were both waiting for him to utter a word.

Most of these circumstances were normal for Lester. His job at the lead of the Anomaly Research Centre demanded the respect of many men. No, today was special for two reasons.

First, no-one was running around chasing dinosaurs today. Nor were they cleaning up after the destruction caused by a previous bout of chasing dinosaurs. That involved quite a lot of work on the part of Jenny Lewis, head of public relations in the ARC. Sometimes Lester thought the advancement to anomaly detection had been a bit of a double-edged sword. Without it, the ARC would have been free to simply not notice any anomalies that didn’t throw up any particularly nasty creatures.

Today, all was calm.

Second, today, the ARC was welcoming back an old employee. Captain Jake Hemple had worked with the Anomaly Research Centre as head of security several months earlier. However, during the Russian incident, he had been severely wounded – too wounded to return to service immediately. Now, the healing process was complete, and he was eager to return to service.

Lester thought he was a madman.

Since Hemple’s departure, the ARC had a new head of security, Captain Hilary Becker. Now all papers had been passed, and Hemple was to return as the more experienced Becker’s right-hand-man, which all parties were content with.

But Lester still insisted on a personal interview.

Becker loudly cleared his throat.

Lester looked up from his papers for the first time since the pair of soldiers had entered his office. “Don’t worry, Hilary, I’m nearly finished.”

Becker replied sheepishly. “OK sir.”

Lester turned to Hemple and read out a few extracts from his file. “Captain Jake Hemple. Trained at Sandhurst Military Academy before being stationed in Afghanistan with the British army. Shortly afterwards was recruited into the ARC.”

Hemple spoke up. “With all due respect sir, you’ve already hired me! Is this really necessary?”

“Not really, but what is life without formalities?” Lester approved Hemple’s recruitment, and dismissed both soldiers from his office.

Shortly after the door closed, Lester heard the phone ringing. He answered the phone to an all-too-familiar voice.

“James!” greeted Christine Johnson. “How nice to speak to you again. I was wondering if we could have a word?”

XXXX

“So,” Grant inquired, “What did you want to tell me?”

“It’s probably best if we go inside,” replied Malcolm.

The two men went into Grant’s trailer.

“So, Grant,” Malcolm began, as they both sat down around the cluttered coffee table, “have you read today’s newspaper?”

“Not yet,” Grant said, “I’m usually too busy to read the paper.”

Malcolm picked up the newspaper from the kitchen table and handed it to Grant. He started reading, but when he saw the main headline on the front page, his heart sank.

As if this day couldn’t possibly get any worse…

XXXX

By now, Lester was far from trusting Christine, so chose his words carefully. “I’m sorry, Christine, but we’re a tad busy at the moment…” he lied.

Christine interrupted. “It can’t wait. By now it’s probably already on its way to the front page.”

“A creature?” He sighed. “I’ll send Jenny and her team to clean it all up. Shouldn’t be too big. If there was an actual anomaly our detector would certainly have picked it up.” Lester inclined his voice slightly, indicating back to a previous incident between them.

“Oh, but Lester, it’s big. Very big!”

XXXX

“Shit…” Grant swore under his breath, “They never learn…”

He couldn’t believe what he was reading, that anyone could possibly be so stupid…

The front page of the newspaper bore the following headline:

DINOSAURS LIVE AGAIN!

PREHISTORIC REPTILES CREATED BY BILLIONAIRE GENETICS COMPANY

Chapter Three
History Repeats Itself

Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. – George Santayana

Captain Becker and Captain Hemple stood outside Lester’s office, overlooking the main atrium. Lester had just dismissed them having recruited Hemple as Becker’s second-in-command. Hence, they would be seeing a lot of each other from now on.
“Obviously Lester hasn’t changed, then?” Hemple asked.
“No, he hasn’t,” Becker agreed. Becker observed that Lester used a special form of management that somehow seemed to work, at least in the ARC. Lester had overseen the whole anomaly operation from its beginning, while Becker had only been recruited a few months ago. That had not been long after Hemple’s temporary discharge.
Becker had worked his way up the ladder for years and this, it would seem, was one of the highest jobs the army had to offer. Not exactly something he’d expected, but at least it was – ironically – close to home.

“Anyway,” Becker said, “I have to go make sure nothing’s caught fire yet. As you were.”

“Sure, Captain,” Hemple returned.

Becker smiled and turned away. He stopped himself, and turned back. “Oh, there’s one more thing Lester didn’t tell you,” he said. “There’s this guy called Quinn…”
Suddenly, Lester burst out of his office. He walked swiftly, and with purpose, along the walkway, past Becker and Hemple. “Where do you think you’re going, Becker?”
He strolled up to the edge of the walkway, which allowed him to oversee the whole atrium, like a lion surveying his territory. Becker and Hemple followed and took their positions on either side of Lester. Once all the ARC employees below, including Temple, Maitland and Lewis, had noticed him, Lester began his speech.

“We have a new anomaly threat. It’s big.”

Connor interrupted. “Maybe this is a stupid question, but wouldn’t the anomaly detector have picked it up?”

“I take it, then, that it’s in complete working order again?” Lester inquired. The old detector had sustained considerable damage during Helen Cutter’s recent attack on the ARC, causing it to need replacing.

“Yep! Good as new!”

“Might I remind you, Connor, that it is new? And very expensive because of that.”

“Lester, what is it?” Jenny interjected, looking up.

Lester straightened and regained his composure. “I’ve just been sent the front page of this morning’s News of the World. It’s quite an interesting read, to say the least.”

Lester revealed the page and read it out in front of the personnel. “Dinosaurs back from the dead! US scientists resurrect extinct creatures.”

After a pause, Connor grinned. “Yeah, right…”

Lester threw the page down towards Connor, and many other ARC personnel, including Abby and Jenny, crowded around him to share in reading it. Connor’s smile faded, but only slightly. “Hoax,” he muttered. However, Becker had already read part of the article from behind Lester’s back. This was serious.

As the confused faces looked back up at Lester, he resumed. “So, what are we going to do about this one?”
XXXX
“My God…” Grant sighed, as he continued to read the article.

He and Malcolm were sat in his trailer at the dig-site. It was crampt, and almost all of the flat space available was covered with notes and sheets on the excavation project’s progress. As Grant read through the text, it turned out that not only had prehistoric animals been created, but the construction of an actual dinosaur-themed wildlife park exhibiting these animals, was nearly complete. The name of this park was apparently Everglades Land of Time, and it was situated in Florida.

“Malcolm, please tell me this is a hoax,” Grant muttered.

“I’m sorry,” Malcolm replied, sitting back in his chair, “but it doesn’t seem to be.”

Grant shook his head in disappointment. Someone had actually repeated InGen’s mistake. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder about this new revelation. Had the people responsible for the creation of this park made all the same mistakes InGen had made, all those years ago? There was only one way to find out.

“I think we should try and find out more,” Grant said, pulling his laptop out from underneath a pile of papers. The area suffered from a paralytically slow internet connection. Once the web browser opened, he quickly typed ‘Everglades Land of Time’ into the search engine, as Malcolm pulled his chair over towards the monitor. It returned many results, but the top one was the most useful. He clicked into the park's official website.

The site was so small that it barely qualified as a website. The main page was headered by the park’s logo – a circle encompassing a Tyrannosaurus Rex, Triceratops, Woolly Mammoth and Sabre-Tooth Cat, under the name: ‘Everglades Land of Time’. There were some promotional taglines, but nothing more. It linked to three further pages. Malcolm drummed his fingers on the tabletop as Grant clicked the first. It was a contact info page, which simply informed that the park’s customer department would be ready soon. There was also a ticket information page. It stated that just one hundred tickets were available, and that they would largely be released to retail outlets around the US. It also informed the reader of how to spot an authentic ticket. Each real one had a gold strip running down it, and a standard watermark of a Tyrannosaurus rex skull.

But what interested Grant most was the gallery. It only had three images – pictures of a Sabre-Tooth Cat, a flock of Gallimimus dinosaurs and a few woolly mammoths.

“My God, it’s happening again.” Grant muttered under his breath.
XXXX
“We could try bombing the place,” Lester suggested with a smirk.

Hemple, Connor, Abby, Jenny, Sarah, Becker and a few members of his squad were all assembled in Lester’s – now quite crowded – office. It was a spacious office usually, with clear glass on two sides. The office was clean and uncluttered, with just a few papers on the desk.

“This has to be a military operation,” Becker said. “With a bit of political backup, of course.

Lester then spoke, serious this time. “Yes, but it’s clear that it’s already a high-profile site, with eyes all over the world firmly focused on it. If a military team came in and closed it down with authorization from the British government, people would quickly start asking questions. The way we do this has to be politically correct. Although, I’m not sure such a way exists…” He more muttered the last part to himself rather than to the general audience standing around his desk.

He sat down, and visibly started to think. Then, he turned to Jenny.

“You lead the operation. Connor and Abby will follow, to deal with any creatures that cause trouble. You will have a military escort, led by…” Becker looked up expectantly. “…Hemple.”

“Excuse me?” Becker asked.

Lester explained. “I got this article from Christine Johnson, who’s proved herself to be less than trustworthy in the past. My caution may be unfounded, but just to be safe, I want you and the bulk of your men here, to deal with any… problems that may arise. Hemple will take charge of a small squad. Possibly Alpha Squad. Better not take in a whole army to a popular upcoming tourist destination.”

“Understood,” Becker replied.
XXXX

Howard Rossiter stood by the window of his luxury office, overlooking the city of Miami.

He was a tall, athletic man of thirty-six, with black hair, and he wore an expensive black suit tailored just a few inches short of being a second skin. He was the CEO of the genetics company known as BioSyn. He had taken over the company from his father after his retirement.

The intercom on the stylish glass-plate desk buzzed.

“Mr. Rossiter,” the voice of his secretary said, “your father is here to see you.”

“Good,” Rossiter replied, “send him in.”

The door opened, and an elderly, white-haired man wearing a beige suit walked into the room. This was Howard’s father and former CEO of BioSyn, Jeffrey Rossiter.

“Hello Dad,” Howard said with a slight smile. "How are things? Retirement going well?"

Jeffrey gave his son an apprehensive look. "Howard, I haven't much time. I have a business appointment about one of my investments, in half an hour."

"Been keeping busy then?" Howard interjected, trying to soften the mood.

"Howard, I need to speak to you about your project..."

Howard responded to Jeffrey's apprehension, by displaying his own enthusiasm. They’d had conversations like this for a long time now, and Rossiter already had a response ready this time. "My idea! My... project... to reinvigorate the company! Your company! To ring in a new age of prosperity for us!"

"Son, I just wanted to make sure you know what you're doing! This project is not any ordinary one. Remember John Hammond!"

Howard took a step back. Then, catching his breath, "Father, I promise you that I understand entirely what I am doing. This will change BioSyn forever. My God, it will change the world!"

"Howard, that woman is trouble!"

The younger man paused. “Father, are you quite finished?”

Jeffrey put a hand on his son's shoulder. But the look on his face was one of resignation. Howard hadn’t heeded his father’s warnings much so far, and Jeffrey was unlikely to expect him to now. "Just be careful. Goodbye." He then turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Well, that was quite the family feuding there!” Howard turned away from the door to see a figure appear as if from nowhere. "Well, as they say, all the best cowboys have daddy issues!" Helen Cutter said as she emerged from her hiding place.

Chapter Four

So It Begins…

Colonel Bill Hopper was a man in his late forties. He was tall, athletic and bald, and bore the ‘thousand-yard stare’. He was a decorated Delta Force officer who was credited for his work in Iran, Panama and Desert Storm, to name a few. Today, he was just Bill Hopper. He had been privately requested by a man, going by the name ‘John Doe’, to meet outside a busy coffee shop in Miami. Apparently, he had acquired some interesting information. Ordinarily, Hopper would dismiss him, but he was having a boring day and decided to take him up on his offer.

Hopper checked his watch. He’s late… ten thirty he said, and now half an hour later... Hopper looked across the street. He saw a tall, dark, thin man, who was probably in his early forties. He was wearing sunglasses. He crossed the road, and approached Hopper.

“Colonel,” he greeted. Hopper was dressed in civvies, so this recognition made it pretty certain that this was John Doe.

“What the hell took you so long?” Hopper asked.

“Sorry. I’m not sure, but I think I’m being followed.” Mr. Doe looked over his shoulder.

“Hang on... I recognise you! You’re that whacko who…”

“Colonel, I’d rather not have my name mentioned in public. I believe Rossiter has some thugs following me, and I don’t want to draw attention to myself.” Hopper had no idea who this ‘Rossiter’ was, and was sceptical about the presence of these ‘thugs’. Mr Doe continued to look over his shoulder nervously. “Let’s take a seat,” Doe suggested. He indicated to a table with two stools, inside.

After they sat down, John Doe showed Hopper a folder. “I’ve been tracking a genetics company called ‘BioSyn’ for fourteen years now, and I’ve recently discovered that they’ve been planning the construction of a theme park.” Hopper raised his eyebrow. This is a waste of time… “But it’s not an ordinary theme park,” Doe hastily continued. “They’re using prehistoric animals as the attraction, look,” John Doe handed Hopper a white, sealed envelope. Hopper opened it, and pulled out the contents – about a hundred photographs. He flicked through them.

“That’s great, you got the pictures straight out of my nephew’s dinosaur book,” Hopper said, stuffing the photos back into the envelope. “You know, I’ve got more important things to do.” He got up from the table.

“Wait Colonel!” Doe whispered, standing off his chair. He handed Hopper one of the pictures. “This was taken at the Everglades theme park four months ago.”

“Yeah it’s been doctored, just like the rest of ‘em…”

“I can assure you it isn’t doctored in any way. Those two there, by the Wrangler,” he pointed to a couple of figures in the photo, “that’s Howard Rossiter, CEO of BioSyn, and an unidentified woman. Howard Rossiter inherited BioSyn from his dad when he reached retirement, and that woman next to him, well, she’s number one most wanted by the British Government, her name is withheld. Look at all this Colonel, all these guards, the whole park, what do you think they could be doing?”

Hopper recognised that woman. He couldn’t remember her name, but she was significant… “Right, you’re coming with me. I’ll contact someone about this. Although I can’t expect it to go very far.”

“Well, let’s hope so,” Doe said. “And you’ll have to act quickly. In four days there’s a press conference about the opening, and the website comes online at the same time.”

****
Four Days Later…

A UH-60 Black Hawk flew over an undesignated part of the Everglades, following a dirt path. Private Fred Stone and Sergeant Major Paul Jackson were both part of the 1^st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta (or Delta Force for short). Jackson had served in five Delta Force operations before - Desert Storm, Restore Hope, Gothic Serpent, Enduring Freedom and Iraqi Freedom.

“Sergeant Major, we’re at the drop off point,” the pilot informed them.

“Ten-four, Captain,” Jackson said. He looked to Stone. “Switch on your night vision, private.”

Stone pulled down the goggles. He could make out the swamp now.

“Stone, you ready?”

“I... I think so...” Stone looked down warily at the forty foot drop. “I’ve never dropped forty feet… The most they did in training was twenty.”

“Let’s go!” Jackson was the first to fall.

Stone closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He gathered together enough confidence to jump from the helicopter.

It was over in ten seconds. Jackson extended his arm once Stone had settled on the ground, and opened his eyes. The private grabbed it, and stood off the ground. “Private, check your ammo,” Jackson whispered. “We’re moving in thirty seconds.”

Stone checked his combat utility vest. All the ammo pouches were filled with M4A1 and Desert Eagle magazines. He raised his assault rifle and looked through the ACOG scope.

“UAV recon indicated a river east of our position,” Jackson summarised. “If we follow it, we’ll be taken directly to the park’s sewage pipe. If we’re lucky, we can infiltrate the park from there. Any questions?” Jackson looked at Stone.

“How long will it be to get to the river and then the park, sir?”

“About fifteen minutes,” Jackson stood up from his crouched position. “Anything else?” Stone shook his head. “Let’s go,” Jackson said, before setting off. Stone followed behind him.

Fifteen minutes passed quickly. They came to a large perimeter fence. Beneath the concrete which held thick metal bars and electrified wiring, they could see the sewage pipe. The only thing between the pair and their way into the park was an iron gate with a padlock.

Stone looked to Jackson. The older soldier pulled out a pair of wire-cutters. Jackson started upon the chain-link, and within minutes, he had made a roughly human-sized gap. They quickly squeezed through. The pair of soldiers adjusted their night vision, and then waded through the waist-high, tainted water of the pipe.

After a few paces, Jackson pulled out a satellite photo of the area, and showed it to Stone. “Right...” Jackson whispered, “We need to get out between the bunker and that structure by the fencing with the ponds, to get to those offices. We are currently somewhere here…” He indicated a blur of trees. “And we need to get...” He swapped to a photo that showed a bunker and a patch of grass, “to that man hole.”

Stone nodded, and together, they continued to wade through the water.

After a few seconds, Jackson stopped dead in his tracks. He held up his fist to indicate to Stone to hold his position. Then, his fist popped open. Stone saw all five digits of Jackson's hand, which indicated to spread out and take cover.

Stone now noticed the sound of someone wading through the water further down the sewer. He couldn’t see the person; it was too dark. The person was moving audibly closer to them.

The two soldiers retreated to the sewer entrance, keeping their M4s aimed at the sound, but they had no definitive target. Eventually the form emerged. Although it was still difficult to make out his face, they could see he was a man, and he noticeably wore the same gear as them, with the exception of a combat helmet which they lacked. The submachine gun he carried was not one used by any branch of the US military. Stone had his finger on the trigger of his assault rifle. Jackson looked at him, and Stone remembered something the other soldier had told him in the helicopter on the way here. “Remember the rules of engagement,” he’d said. “Wait for them to show aggression first.”

Stone looked back at the mysterious figure. He didn’t seem overly aggressive in his approach.

The figure stopped in the sewer water. He raised the SMG in Stone’s direction, and fired a couple of shots. The shots impacted on his vest, and Stone fell back. He collapsed into the deep water. Stone spluttered, and choked on the vile liquid. He flapped his arms to bring his mouth to the surface, and after a few further splutters, he gasped in the air. To his side, he saw Jackson firing on their attacker, and dodging shots himself. Stone frantically searched through the murky water for his dropped rifle, leaving him unable to see the action. After a few seconds of exchanged gunfire, he stopped fumbling at the sound of a body splashing into the water, and the end of the gunshots. Stone looked around in a panic, and sighed with relief as he saw Jackson standing victorious, and the other man’s dead body in the distant water.

“Stone, you okay?" Jackson looked down at the private, and helped him up.

Stone held his right hand on the centre of his chest. "I... think so. I guess I've never been shot before." He removed his hand from his chest and saw the damage the 9x19mm rounds had done.

“Yeah, those combat vests can take quite a punch,” Jackson said. They both heard splashes echoing down from further along the pipeline. More guards were descending into the sewer.

“I lost my rifle in the water!” Stone said.

“No time!” Jackson whispered. “Come on, hurry!” Stone rushed back to the entrance, followed by Jackson. The older soldier spoke into his walkie. "Chalk-Four, this is Eagle-Eye. Mission has been compromised, I repeat, mission has been compromised!"

“Ten-four Eagle-Eye.” It was the pilot. “We’ve set down in an opening half mile from the park entrance.”

“Roger that!”

“Jackson,” Stone called as they ran back though the gate, “won’t they know we were there when they find my rifle?”

“I think they’ll figure something’s different when they find the dead body of one of their guards. Now get a move on!”

Sergeant Major Paul Jackson and Private Fred Stone stood to attention in Colonel Hopper’s office. Sergeant Major Paul Jackson was a man in his late thirties. He was rugged but clean shaven, with short hair, and bore a faint scar that ran from his lower lip down to his chin. Private Fred Stone was still very youthful in looks. He was a sinewy athlete who had undoubtedly been popular at school. After the failed recon and infiltration mission, Hopper had requested their presence in his office immediately. He sat at his desk, with an obvious look of disappointment and frustration.

“So... Your position was compromised by hired soldiers, you presume?” Hopper asked.

“Yes sir, although admittedly we didn’t get a good look at our attacker,” Jackson replied. “By the time he was down, more guards were in the sewer. We had to get out.”

“How many did you hear enter the sewer?” Hopper’s eyes burned into Jackson.

“It was unclear sir, but judging by the sound I’d guess about four or five.” Jackson’s face remained emotionless. Stone shifted his eyes to the Sergeant Major.

“Well, as long as you can guess by the sound, then we can rest easy,” Hopper sniped. “Private, you’re dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.” Stone left the office.

Once he had gone, Hopper, continued. “As of now reconnaissance missions to the Everglades Land of Time will be suspended.”

“Well, at least the mission wasn’t a total loss,” said Jackson.

“What do you suppose we gained from it, in the long run?” Hopper asked.

“Now we know that this park doesn’t intend to play nice. They have armed guards, instructed to shoot unfamiliar soldiers on sight. We know that now, Bill.”

“Hopper. It’s always Hopper, Sergeant Major. Tomorrow morning at oh-five-hundred I expect to see all our personnel in B-52 Hangar Nine. Dismissed”

“Yes, sir.” Jackson left the office.

Hopper pulled the announcement microphone on his desk towards him. He flicked the switch up and spoke through it.

“Attention all employees. Tomorrow morning at oh-five-hundred there will be a meeting in B-52 Hangar Nine. All Army personnel are to report there. I repeat, at oh-five-hundred there will be a meeting in B-52 Hangar Nine, all personnel to report, thank you.”

XXXX

The chef dished out the cold chilli onto Private Stone’s bowl. The young soldier was slightly put off. He was used to the hot and fresh food the Army chefs made at Fort Bragg, his previous base.

“Damn it I hate this food,” the private whispered once the chef was out of earshot. “When are our chefs coming over?” The Private looked over to Corporal Sanderson, opposite him at the table.

“Two weeks. Hey, at least the pizza is good.” Sanderson pulled his spoon out of the thick green soup. “It’s like being back at high school...” Sanderson dropped the spoon again, and changed the subject. “So what do you think the meeting tomorrow is about?”

“I know what it’s about.” Stone smiled. He liked the little buzz he got from feeling in the know for the first time. “But I’ll let you find out in the morning.” Stone looked down to his bowl of chilli and mixed it with the spoon.

“Oh come on! I’m the third in command,” Sanderson said.

“You’re third in command of Bravo Squad.” Jackson looked across the table at him.

“Well, you told me your estimated mission time was four hours, and you did less than one. So something must’a’ happened,. ” Sanderson said, looking smug.

“Eat your chilli, Sandy,” Jackson said.

...

“It’s okay Nancy. I’ll tidy up.”

“Thanks, Desmond.” Nancy, one of the caretakers at the military base, grabbed her handbag and rushed out of the hangar.

Ketterman, the other caretaker, dumped the chilli leftovers into a large bin. After tidying and locking up the kitchen, he proceeded alone towards the command office.

He moved along the shadows, trying to avoid the patrols. There were three at this base – Delta Force, the 1^st Air Cavalry Brigade, and United States Air Force infantry.

He could see the office. It was so close, and yet so far. Ketterman had to cross the runway to get there. There were five tracks in total, each just over two miles long. The hangars at the far end were built especially for the four B-52’s and the C-130 Hercules. Ketterman had done his homework on the place.

He bolted across the tracks. He stopped at the other side, turning his back onto the front wall. Ketterman looked around for any patrols. Once he was sure that his surroundings were clear, he turned back to the locked door. It was electronically locked. Ketterman looked around for a button that opened the front of the lock. He nudged around the top. The front of the lock clicked and fell down, hanging from two hinges. It revealed the interior of the lock. Ketterman took out his supped-up PDA. He clipped the PDA’s external wires onto the lock’s wires. He tapped the buttons on the PDA, and after a few minutes, it bypassed the code. The lock clicked, and he pushed open the door into the command office. His boss had told him that the military was going to get involved eventually, but the information hadn’t been very specific on which branch of the military. That was where Ketterman came in. There were only three computers in this office. One was labelled ‘RECON’ and was wired to three large TV screens. The top screen was labelled ‘Little Bird’; the bottom two labelled ‘UAV’ and ‘AH-64’. That wasn’t it. He looked to the other computer monitors, at the end of the room. They were labelled ‘PERSONNEL’ and ‘INTEL’ respectively. He approached them and switched on ‘PERSONNEL’.

DELTA FORCE EVERGLADES AIR-FORCE-BASE:
PERSONNEL

PLEASE ENTER PASSWORD BELOW

He took a USB drive out of his pocket. It contained a special type of virus that allowed him access into the system for twenty minutes alone. After that, he’d be locked out. Let the magic begin... he thought to himself as he inserted the USB pen into the computer. The green text disappeared and he was shown a black screen, then...

WELCOME BACK MR.GOODBYTES

Ketterman sat down on the chair and sighed with relief. He cautiously checked around himself and, assured that he was still alone, he checked around the computer. He clicked the search box and typed in ‘non-combatant personnel’. Nothing came up. He typed in ‘civilian personnel’, and this time four names popped up on the screen.

>>>> CIVILIAN PERSONNEL

DESMOND FRIFT

NANCY SCHAEFFER

FRANCIS HYDE

MILO DYSON

He’d already met Francis and Milo. Neither of them was the guy Ketterman was looking for.

He then had an idea. He typed in “withheld personnel”.

>>>> WITHHELD PERSONNEL

JOHN DOE

He tapped the enter button.

NAME: WITHHELD
D.O.B: JUNE 4^th 1974
LOCATION (WITHIN BKS): OFFICER’S DORM 4
ACCESS CODE: 121809

Bingo! He removed the floppy disk and switched off the computer quickly. He wasted no time, and left immediately for the officer’s dorm.

He unlocked the door to the dorm using the access code. The room was much like a bed sit you’d find in an apartment: kitchen, bedroom and living room all in one neat square. Ketterman took out his camera phone and, with the flash and sound disabled, took a photo of each of the men in the dorm. The photos were bad-quality, due to the darkness, but they would do. Ketterman placed a ticket for Everglades Land of Time on Doe’s desk, and then left the Air Force Base for the last time.

Chapter Five
The Famous Danny Quinn

An alarm bell rang.
Danny Quinn slowly raised his head, and opened his tired eyes. He read the clock – 06:00. He had never quite got round to turning off the alarm since his days in the force had come to an end. At the back of his mind, he thought it might keep him fit and healthy, ready to jump in at the latest extraordinary threat. However, at this very moment, he felt anything but healthy.
He hated Monday mornings.
He moved over to the right, to the edge of his bed, and hit the snooze button. It had not been long since the T-Rex – or whatever it was – had attacked the airport, and his head was still racing.
His interest in the anomalies was not simply boyish fascination (although that might have played a small part…). Fourteen years ago, his brother, Pat Quinn, had entered a derelict, run-down house near where they lived. He'd never come out. It had seemed like a murder, but the killer had never been fully identified. Danny's connection to the house had always affected his work in the police force, up to the point where he came across three trespassers, claiming to be property developers. As it turned out, they were civil servants of a sort. After some unofficial investigation, Danny uncovered the true agent of his brother's disappearance – some sort of gremlin monster, which nearly killed Danny too. It had come through some sort of wormhole, called an 'anomaly'.
Danny had quit the police force in order to pursue the anomalies more, and had followed some nosy journalists to the airport, where an anomaly materialised. Though he played a big part in preventing catastrophe on that occasion, he was nearly arrested, and had to scarper. Since then, no anomalies.
Although, the anomaly detector he'd swiped from them might just come in handy…
Now more awake, Danny got out of his bed and walked over to his wardrobe. His bedroom was a small room with white walls and one curtained window, and a single door on the right-hand-side wall from the bed, and a mahogany wardrobe. He opened the wardrobe to reveal a safe. He then entered the code – 6259266. Inside, he pulled out the detector. Right now, there was no anomaly nearby. This thing could only have a limited range.
He placed the detector back in the safe and closed it, then returned to the bed.
After some time of just lying there, he heard a noise. It came from the other side of his bedroom, underneath some unfamiliar clutter. It was moving.
Danny walked over towards it.
He lifted one of the cardboard boxes to find… nothing. The thing had vanished.
He waved his hand in the empty space, but it was just that – completely empty.
He stepped back, towards the fireplace. He drew his pistol from his jean pocket.
He felt the presence of something behind him. He stood dead still.
He wheeled around and held his pistol out, ready to shoot. But there was nothing there.
He dropped the pistol.
In a split second, something landed on his back and pushed him to the floor. He twisted around to see that awful, toothy creature stare him straight in the face. It raised its clawed hand, and took one mighty swipe.
Danny woke with a start. Gasping, he wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. He searched around himself for anything moving. But, all was still in his flat.
Time to get up.
As he ate his toast and drank his coffee, Danny turned on the TV. He automatically switched past the daytime television and kid's TV, finally settling on a channel that was showing news. The top story then began. And when he saw what it was, Danny dropped his toast.
"It now appears that the rumours have been proven true once and for all, as Miami's latest tourist attraction really is a park full of living dinosaurs. 'Everglades Land of Time' will be opening its gates to guests in 40 hours, at midday tomorrow, and has now started distributing tickets. Only three pictures of the creatures have surfaced so far, released by the park themselves. They each show one of the prehistoric creatures – woolly mammoths, a male sabretooth cat, and a herd of ostrich-like dinosaurs, called Gallimimus. No other creatures have been confirmed, though the park's logo suggests that Triceratops and even Tyrannosaurus Rex may also live in the park."
Danny continued to watch the screen. The lengthy report did not impart any further information, apart from satellite views of the park, and paleontological information on the confirmed creatures. The report also told Danny about something far more important – only 100 tickets were available, and had all been dispatched to various random retail outlets across America this morning, to be won by customers by raffle or other random methods.
Danny needed one of those tickets.
Regardless of all that talk of cloning and dinosaur DNA, Danny knew that any present-day dinosaurs had to have something to do with anomalies. The ARC would probably also be investigating. Danny needed a ticket, soon. There was no way he could get to America before they were all won, so he needed to think of a new plan.
After wolfing down his breakfast, he put on his leather jacket and exited his flat, making his way downstairs and out onto the London street. Danny was wary of this odd situation, but he was clearly in the minority. All along the street, small crowds gathered around television screens and radios tuned to news of the miracle park. Newspaper stands stood empty.
Eventually, he found what he was looking for – an internet café. Danny had used this facility several times before, but his current jobless budget did not allow for many luxuries. Today, it was far more crowded than he was used to, but he still found a spare computer.
His first destination was the park's website. It did not offer any new information, but at least he got to read the customer info for himself.
Next, he went to his only slim chance of getting a ticket.
EBay.
Even here, he did not have much luck. He was not very optimistic, and his doubts were confirmed when his search returned a million results, the majority of which were obvious fakes. For every miracle, there is someone who wants to make money dishonestly out of it.
Just one ticket within the first three pages looked genuine, apparently having been dispatched by Land of Time themselves. The authenticity, though, was irrelevant – the bidding by now had jacked the price up to nearly a million dollars, and it was not due to finish for another six hours.
Danny abandoned eBay, and all other auction sites, and did some more searching. He didn't find out anything else that could in any way help him find a ticket at a reasonable price. He eventually left the café, and strolled out into the midday sun. He decided to return to his flat.
Once inside the door, he heard an odd, very faint sound. He couldn't quite pinpoint it. That was, until he realised where he'd heard it before.
He rushed to the safe, and withdrew the detector. It was making a strange, alien sound, and the compass-like arrow was wobbling.
A new anomaly.
This was perfect.
If anyone was going to get into this place, it was going to be the ARC.

Chapter Six

Carpe Diem

Carpe Diem (Seize the Day) – Latin Phrase

The alarms rang.

Lester looked out over the main operations floor of the ARC to see the anomaly detector sounding.

“Oh, not now…” he complained.

Connor sprinted down the walkway from Lester’s office, ran over to the five screens of the main anomaly detector, and triangulated the signal.

“It’s in the city!” he shouted to the others, assembled up on the walkway. The signal zoomed down further. “It’s about a mile from the ARC, on our side of the river,” he called.

As Abby caught up, Connor printed out the co-ordinates.

“Well, this puts us in a rather difficult situation, doesn’t it?” Lester called down. Jenny, Hemple, Connor, Abby and a few soldiers were still needed to inspect this park, but they now had an anomaly to investigate. And he still didn’t trust Christine enough to leave the ARC unprotected, at her mercy.

He paced back towards his office, thinking, weighing the options in his mind. Then he made his decision.

He walked back out to the walkway.

“We continue with the plan we already made. Becker,” he turned to the man standing beside him on the walkway, “you lead the investigation into this new anomaly. Bring some of your squad with you. Secure the area, as per usual. I want you back as soon as possible.”

“Yes sir,” Becker replied.

As Becker marched away to prepare his men, Lester turned back to Connor, who was still down at the ADD. “Is that locking machine of yours ready for action?”

“Yep! Any ideas how we’ll able be able to get this through customs?” Connor asked with a grin.

“Actually, the locker will be going with Becker to this new anomaly. As soon as we’re done with it, we’ll send it over to you in Florida. Whatever’s really going on at this prehistoric adventure safari, it seems to be under control for the moment, so it can wait.”

“…Oh,” Connor replied. “But… this is a complicated piece of tech! I need to be there with them…”

“Then you can tell Becker how to work it. And be quick, we’ve already wasted enough time talking! It’s about time you lot got packing, isn’t it?”

At this cue, Hemple marched down the walkway to prepare his squad, and Connor and Abby rushed off into a side corridor.

Finally, Lester approached Jenny, who had been standing at his side. He lowered his voice.

“You’re in charge of this operation. I’ll be working to secure admission. Once you land in Miami, contact the ARC.”

“Then what? What is it that we’re actually expected to do when we get there?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” Lester replied. “Have a nice flight!”

Jenny then walked off to pack, leaving Lester alone.

He walked into his now empty office and sat down on his chair once again. This one would not be easy, and he sympathised with Jenny, but she’d always been faced with tough challenges in this job and come out the other end with a convincing story. Lester was more worried about Christine Johnson. For a few hours, the ARC would be practically defenceless. He didn’t like that one bit.

Sarah had been left out of the action once again.

She’d been there, on the walkway, when Lester had concocted his plan, and had been completely left out.

She was the researcher. That was what she’d been hired as. At the moment, her job appeared to be cleaning up the artefact, which had no obvious use, and had been acquired from a madwoman who’d blown up the ARC and killed her own husband. She needed to get out, at least for a few hours…

She was wandering down the corridor towards her artefact room, when she spotted Becker walking along the same corridor towards her.

As he walked past, he nodded in her direction, without breaking stride.

“Hi Becker,” she replied. “Just cleaning up this artefact. Thrilling work, as you can imagine! Kinda been left out of the action today.”

He stopped, and faced her. “Well, if you’re looking for something to do, we could use a helping hand with this anomaly, if you’re interested.”

“Sure thing!”

Connor didn’t have very much to pack. Hemple would be taking the bulk of the firearms, and without the locker, all the equipment he could take was a few handheld detectors. One had gone missing recently, at the airport anomaly. They’d assumed it had been stolen by the journalists who’d been tailing them. It had never shown up since they met an ugly end, and Connor had to assume the G-Rex had taken it through the anomaly with them, never to be found again.

Connor’s possessions were all in the ARC, in his makeshift bedroom. Abby had since driven home quickly to pack, and tell her brother that she’d be away. Connor had politely declined her offer of a lift, insisting that Duncan would be picking him up. The lie was intact for another day. Now, in his real home-from-home, he decided that he might as well pack all his clothes into his suitcase, so as to leave no evidence of his secret tenure while he was abroad. Hopefully, while he was gone, there would be no evidence whatsoever of his being there.

Then a grunting noise reminded him of something.

“Sid! Nancy! No!”

He stepped over to the cat-carrier, and peered in. Mercifully, the two pets were still inside. There was no way he could secretly take them onto the plane, but if he left them here, by themselves, they would either be discovered, or would escape for good.

He picked up the large case in his arms and peeked outside the doors. The corridor was nearly empty, save for Sarah walking past. She looked to be hurrying towards the gates of the ARC. Connor had an idea.

“Hi Sarah!” he said, stepping out from the doorway. He didn’t give her time to reply. “Listen, I’m in a bit of a pickle here, ‘cos you see, a couple of Diictodons ended up in the present after their anomaly closed and I’ve been looking after ‘em, but then I had to find another place because Abby’s brother moved in, but I couldn’t find another place so I’m crashing here for a few nights but now I need somewhere for these two because the others can’t find out about them! So would you mind taking care of them for a few days until I get back? They’re escape artists and they’ll gnaw through anything so be sure to watch them, but they should be fine!”

“What?” Sarah asked, vaguely confused. “I… I guess I…”

“Thanks Sarah, I knew you’d be OK with this! See ya in a couple of days!” He passed Sarah the carry-case with the snarling reptiles inside. Confident of success, he then rushed down the corridor to find the others.

Sarah was left with the carry-case in her arms as Connor scarpered. “Connor!” What the hell is he playing at? “Connor! I can’t!”

Becker called up to her. “Sarah! We’re going now!”

Oh no, no no no no no no! Sarah had little choice. She rushed after his voice, and out of the ARC building. She hurried to Becker’s car and opened the boot. She was faced with a huge selection of weaponry, including rifles, SMGs and shotguns. She placed the blanket-covered case on top of what looked like a rocket-launcher, and slammed the lid. They would be alright in the boot until she got back. She then got into the passenger side of Becker’s car, and he drove away.

“Everything alright?” he asked her as he pulled onto the main road, followed closely by the other soldiers in the other cars.

“Yeah, fine! Everything’s… fine…” Sarah replied. Maybe she’d tempted fate just a little bit…

Chapter Seven
The Messenger

Ian Malcolm knew that Dr. Grant would react this way.

It wasn’t surprising either. After all, they had experienced the terror of InGen’s creations first hand. Twice, in Malcolm’s case.

After the trip to Isla Sorna, Malcolm’s leg injury had forced him to go into rehabilitation; he could barely walk at the time because of the pain. Before first going to the clinic, he and Sarah had invented a cover story – a rather impressive one too, he thought – about how he’d gone with her on one of her field trips, and been injured by an African black rhino. Thankfully they’d believed him. Rehab had been a long and extremely painful process involving mostly swimming lessons, and hadn’t really done that much good, although Malcolm could at least walk now without feeling pain.

Clearly irritated by the news Malcolm had just delivered, Grant placed his fedora hat on the table of his trailer.

“So Ian,” he said, “what brings you to the badlands?”

“I was contacted by the teachers’ board of the Dawson County High School, over in Glendive. They were interested in my latest paper on chaos theory, and wanted me to give a lecture on it for their math students. I spent the night at a local hotel,” Malcolm explained, “and I got up the next morning, went to this high school, and held my lecture. After that, I went back to the hotel to pack up, and that’s where I found this newspaper. The next logical step was to contact the other survivors of both the Isla Nublar and Isla Sorna incidents, and warn them about this.”

“Isla Sorna?”

“It’s a long story. So anyway, I looked these people up, and called them. I called Robert Muldoon and Jack Thorne, but neither of them answered. Doctor Sattler has a family now, and... well... I didn't contact anyone else. And then it hit me. The badlands aren’t far from here. You didn’t seem to be listed in the phonebook, so I imagined that was probably where I’d find you. So after a while of asking around, I was told the location of your dig team. And, uh… well… here I am.”

“What did you plan on doing next?” Grant asked.

“Well, to be honest, I didn’t really have that much of a plan,” Malcolm said, realizing his mistake. “I had intended to contact you, to see if there was anything we could come up with, to speak out against these experiments.”

“You mean like a protest?”

“Yeah,” Malcolm said, grabbing this new idea, “something that would get attention.”

“Look Ian,” said Grant, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but is there really anything we can do? It’s already in the newspapers and, no offence, but let’s be realistic here. What chance do two old men stand against a multi-million dollar genetics company?”

“A much better chance than two old men who just stand around doing nothing while a bunch of corporate yes-men and John Hammond wannabes repeat the mistakes of history. And bear in mind that the tiniest steps, the smallest decisions influence other, bigger steps, which in turn affect even bigger steps, until the drastic consequences become apparent. That’s how it works. That’s Chaos Theory.”

Grant eyed Malcolm skeptically. “Are you really serious about this?”

“If there’s anything we can do, then yes,” Malcolm said.

“Where would we start? Who would we talk to? I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Well,” Malcolm admitted, “neither have I, but surely there must be someone you know? Someone you may have told about your experience with InGen, who would be likely to agree with us?”

“I never told anyone. It’s not something I like to talk, or even think about. What about you? Did you ever tell anyone?”

“No,” Malcolm was slightly disappointed, although he fully understood Dr. Grant’s point of view, “I never told anyone either.”

“So in that case,” Grant said, now clearly getting rather annoyed, “nothing short of a miracle can help us.”

“I could really do with a ridiculous miracle right about now…” Malcolm said, bitterly.

Grant said nothing.

“Um… well, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to-” Malcolm began, but Grant indicated that he should be quiet.

“What?” Malcolm asked, confused.

“Can’t you hear that?” Grant asked, listening.

And then Malcolm heard something. It sounded very close. Then he realized what exactly made that kind of noise. “That’s a helicopter…”

He and Grant stood up and quickly made their way out of the trailer.

The helicopter was indeed very close. It flew right over the dig site, and with some difficulty, it landed about 150 meters away, at the bottom of the hill. As it flew by, dust was churned up off the ground, and members of the dig team rushed to cover the half-unearthed skeletons with sheets.

Grant and Malcolm walked towards the helicopter. And when Malcolm saw the logo on its side, his heart skipped a beat.

BioSyn.

“Oh shit…” he muttered to himself.

As the blades of the helicopter gradually slowed down, the door on the side of the machine opened, and a bald man wearing a business suit and sunglasses stepped out.

“Dr. Alan Grant, I presume?” the stranger said.

“Yes,” Grant replied, “and who are you?”

“My name is Eugene Ingram,” the man replied, “and I represent BioSyn.”

“What brings you all the way out here?” Malcolm asked Ingram.

“I could ask you the same thing, Dr. Malcolm,” Ingram replied, grinning, “but first I’ll naturally answer your question. I take it you’ve both seen today’s paper?”

Grant and Malcolm both nodded. Then Malcolm spoke.

“Yes. Oh yeah, we’ve seen it. Now look,” he said, “let me tell you something. I know your superiors might not realize it, but by agreeing to commission this park, they have inadvertently made the biggest mistake of their lives! You see, a long time ago, there was this company called InGen…”

“We know all about the Isla Nublar incident, Dr. Malcolm,” Ingram interrupted, “and that’s precisely why I’m here. You see, we at BioSyn used InGen as an inspiration, and we were able to breed back our prehistoric animals using DNA from parasitic insects trapped in amber, using our own updated version of the technology they had used. And safety has also been one of our top priorities.”

“That’s exactly what InGen had us believe,” Malcolm said dryly, “and we all know where that went…”

Ingram ignored him. “We’ve installed state-of-the-art security cameras at every conceivable location. And not only do we have security cameras; we have also installed two types of security equipment of our own creation. First off we have the avoidance beacons; massive loudspeakers which generate a constant field of both high- and low-frequency sound. Our tests have shown that the animals find these sounds extremely irritating, and will immediately head the other way if they enter the beacon’s field. Secondly – and this is my personal favorite – we have the sentry turrets. Using robotic technology flown in from Japan, each sentry turret is an artificially intelligent security camera armed with four heavy-duty Gatling guns. They’re programmed to recognize every species in the park, and if an animal enters their visual range, they will shoot it dead upon detection if it matches anything listed in their memory banks. And the animals’ camouflage won’t save them either. The sentry turrets and regular security cameras also have heat sensors and motion detectors built into them.”

“But if anything happens to the power,” Malcolm argued, “then all of this high-tech equipment will be rendered useless.”

“In that case,” Ingram answered, “it’s a good thing there’s an emergency back-up power grid, that will activate within 30 seconds should anything happen to the electrical systems in the park. Knowing the outcome of John Hammond’s mistakes, we’ve taken precautions this time, and corrected those mistakes. Our goal is to ensure that people can enjoy these amazing creatures, safe in the knowledge that visitor safety is our top priority.”

“That’s what they said last time…” Grant muttered.

“Perhaps you would like to come and see these security systems for yourself, Dr. Grant? And you too, Dr. Malcolm.”

This caught Malcolm off-guard. “I… what?”

Ingram explained. “Like I said, we know all about the Nublar incident. We know what you two have been through. Therefore, we’d like to offer both of you the unique chance to come and visit our park, free of charge of course, and see the park’s security measures for yourselves.”

“Free of charge?” Malcolm asked skeptically.

“Yes.”

Malcolm paused. “Dr. Grant, a word please…” Malcolm said, ushering the paleontologist out of Ingram’s earshot.

“Do you think we should take this offer?” Grant asked Malcolm.

“It seems a little too good to be true, doesn’t it?” the mathematician replied, scratching his head.

“Yes it does. Although if we accept, then we will at least know what we’re up against.”

“And if we see anything wrong with the park, then we’ll be able to warn the owners about it.”

“Also, the close proximity to Miami means that if something goes wrong, it’ll be a lot easier to send for help than it was in Mr. Hammond’s park. Nevertheless, I have a bad feeling about this…” Grant shook his head.

“So do I,” Malcolm said, “and something tells me that these ‘high tech security features’ maybe aren’t quite as wonderful as BioSyn would have us believe. I don’t trust this company at all. And for good reason. I’ve met them before. On Isla Sorna. At the time, they were attempting to capture live dinosaurs as specimens for biological research. Needless to say, they failed miserably…”

“So this park could be their Plan B?”

“It’s possible.”

“Should we go?”

Malcolm hesitated. “I think we should. But if we see anything, any slightest fault that might possibly pose a threat to the public, then we pack our bags and leave immediately, and complain to the park manager. They might not listen to us, but it’s better than doing nothing”

“Very well,” Grant said, nodding, “I’ll tell the dig team.” He walked over to his co-workers.

Malcolm walked towards Mr. Ingram. Deep down, he knew that something was wrong. There was something about the way the BioSyn employee spoke that troubled him. Nonetheless, he’d made a decision, and that was final.

“Mr. Ingram!” Malcolm called.

“So, you two have reached a conclusion?” the businessman asked enthusiastically.

“Yes,” Malcolm replied, “and we accept.”

Chapter Eight

The Elephant and the Mouse

Following a faint signal for a mile through a busy city is not easy, as Danny found out.

He had missed the rush hour traffic, but that didn’t mean he didn’t run into any trouble. His faith in the detector, coupled with the fact he couldn’t tell how far away the anomaly was (due to his lack of experience with the technology), led him through two restaurants, a library, a shopping centre, and a hospital, forced to come up with all manner of weird explanations.

Eventually, he found the signal getting louder, and the arrow pointing in a more defined direction. That had to be good.

Once again, the detector led him off the road. He dismounted his motorbike and took off his helmet for what he hoped would be the last time.

The signal pointed behind a lifting gate. As he approached it, the guard in the adjacent security box called to him.

“ID?”

Danny looked down the road beyond the gate. It looked like a film set, with lights and cameras, and plenty of personnel. They looked to be packing up.

“What’s going on in there, then?” he asked the guard.

“Filming. They’re shutting down for the day, though. Apparently, the director got a call from the government telling him to stop production.”

As if on cue, a convoy of silver trucks and black SUVs came driving down the road. Danny quickly hid behind one of the pillars, opposite the guard’s position. The first truck stopped, and Danny heard the familiar voice of one of the ARC soldiers. His name was Becker, as Danny recalled. Danny could not hear very much, but he could make out Becker being buzzed right through. The other cars followed.

Now was Danny’s chance. As the last SUV in the convoy drove up the ramp, he came out from behind the pillar and leaned up alongside the SUV, bending down behind the window. He then moved off along with it. It wasn’t moving very fast. The guard didn’t see him at all, and he could easily slip into the compound unnoticed. He then used his shiny detector to finally locate the anomaly.

At the front of the line of cars, Becker pulled into an empty parking space. He stepped out of the vehicle and walked around to the boot. Most of the equipment – including the anomaly locker – was with the other cars. However, Becker did have a couple of handhelds, a laptop with Temple’s creature identification program, and several more guns.

As he went to open the boot, Sarah jumped out of the passenger side and walked up to his side.

“Becker!”

He looked up. “Yes? What’s wrong?”

“Uh…” she looked at the boot lid curiously. Then her eyes lit up. “Oh my God, what’s that?” she said, pointing to the roof of the nearby building.

Becker looked up, and opened the boot lid to get his shotgun. As he grabbed it, two brownish shapes fell out of the boot. Before he could get a good look at them, they disappeared underneath the car. Becker turned his attention back to the rooftop, and pointed his gun up at it.

Predictably, there was nothing there. Becker could tell a con when he saw it.

He lowered his shotgun, sighed, and turned to Sarah.

“What were those things?” he asked her.

“What things?” Sarah replied, still trying to hold on to the remaining scraps of her charade.

Becker decided to find out for himself. He lowered to his knees, and looked underneath the car. Sure enough, two small ratty things were crouching underneath the car. He recognised them from somewhere…

“Those things from the hospital!” he whispered. Then he turned up to where Sarah was now standing, above him. “How?”

“They’re not mine! They’re…” she paused. “Connor’s.”

“And you took them with us?”

“Well, I… I panicked. You can’t tell anyone! Please!”

Becker heard the Diictodons scramble out from their hiding place, round a corner, and then disappear completely. Becker got up and looked around, but they were nowhere.

“You better bloody find them, first!”

Danny, who had snuck past the cast and crew of whatever production this was, now followed the detector deeper into the complex. It was quite an extensive set, so what they were filming must have been big, and well-financed. No-one seemed to notice that he was new, as they seemed to be busy with other things.

Eventually the detector brought him to a brick wall. It was one side of a building. He walked around this structure, looking for an entrance. The detector consistently pointed through the wall. The anomaly was indoors.

After a few minutes, he discovered the vehicle entrance, unguarded by any barrier. It was quite wide, and had a very high ceiling. There was no-one immediately inside that he could see, but he couldn’t see the whole way.

He tentatively stepped inside, and continued to follow the detector straight forward. He kept alert, and kept looking around himself. After about ten minutes, he heard someone in loud conversation coming towards him, around the next corner. Now too far in to turn back, he was forced to think on his toes.

As the man came closer, Danny could make out what he was saying.

“This is ridiculous. First the shoots are delayed, now the bloody government wants to stop us shooting altogether!”

Another person gave a muffled response. Danny couldn’t make it out.

The first person spoke again. “The ramp scene is the climax of the entire film, for God’s sake! We start shooting as soon as we can, and when the bloody army manage to get rid of that shiny floating thing. And we need to get new equipment, that thing has messed up the electrics…” He rounded the corner, and spotted Quinn. “Who are you?”

The man was dressed in casual clothes. He had headphones hanging round his neck, and was holding a script. By Danny’s best guess, he was the director. The woman standing next to him was following him closely, one step behind.

“Err, yes sir, I’m one of the new extras!” Danny replied.

“Ah yes, that makes sense,” he replied. “Sorry, but filming’s been cancelled until further notice.”

Danny decided to push for further details. “Why is that?”

“Ugh, I don’t actually know to be honest. Something… came up. Apparently we’re caught in the middle of some kind of government operation.”

“Something came up? Where is it?”

The man eyed Danny suspiciously. “Actually it’s in the government’s hands now, I’m afraid.” He looked down to Danny’s detector, which was emitting its odd sounds. “What is that? A prop?”

“Err, yeah!” Danny said, now apparently having hit a dead end in his excuse.

Luckily, the director didn’t really seem to care very much. “Whatever. I’ll see you whenever we start shooting again, hopefully. Oh and I’d get out of here before the soldiers arrive, if I were you.”

Danny nodded, and the director walked off outside, followed by the quiet woman.

Danny ignored his warnings and continued to follow the detector. Through the glass windows of locked doors on either side of him, he could see many different kinds of indoor sets.

Soon, the soldiers arrived as expected.

Three vehicles from the convoy he’d seen earlier drove down the vehicle entrance. Upon hearing them, Danny sprinted away, further into the complex.

Finally, Danny turned another corner, bounded over another lifting gate and ran out into the open air of the backlot. And there it was.

Shimmering in the air, like shards of glass levitating above the ground. This one was bigger than the one he’d seen in the house, closer to the size of the one in the airport. It was elevated off the ground. It lay just behind a concrete ramp, which led straight up to it. The ramp must have been part of the film – the director had mentioned something about that. The whole area was separated from the nearby road by wooden partitioning.

While he was staring into the anomaly, he felt a hand slap him on the shoulder.

“Quinn!”

Danny turned around to see Becker’s face. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

Becker had assigned Sarah the job of finding the Diictodons again. For her own safety, she was accompanied by a soldier.

The problem about finding them was that there was seemingly no way of tracking the little things. Sarah had gone after where they had originally disappeared and followed the wall from there. The first solid evidence of their whereabouts had been a wooden door into the complex, which had been chewed right through. Becker, who had dealt with these creatures before, had informed her of their observed habits, one of which was chewing holes and burrows through most kinds of material in a very short time.

She and the soldier cautiously entered the complex, coming ever closer to the anomaly’s position, indicated by the detector. All of the doors along the wall were closed shut and unchewed – they had gone straight ahead. Towards the anomaly. That couldn’t be good.

The shimmering hole in time had, so far, not released any creatures. Becker’s soldiers had their guns aimed up at it, just in case something carnivorous did come through. The magnetic pull was still quite strong, so they kept a firm grasp on their weapons.

Meanwhile, Becker himself was busy with an interrogation.

In the canteen, just inside, Quinn was handcuffed to a plastic chair at a table. The blinds were drawn shut, and the door locked.

Becker turned to the surprise guest.

“So, Quinn, care to tell me where you got this?” he said with a half-smile, revealing the anomaly detector he had taken back from Quinn.

“You know, the handcuffs aren’t really necessary!” Quinn said.

“Standard protocol, Quinn. This isn’t personal. You were very helpful back at the airport,” he admitted. “But you stole government property. That counts as treason.”

“Yes, Becker, I’m aware of that. I was a copper!”

“Was a copper?” Becker repeated. “Why did you give up then?”

Quinn ignored the question. “I just want to help! I’ve already taken down one dangerous creature and led another one home. I have extensive weapons training, I can clearly handle a gun, I can use a detector, I’ve seen anomalies, I’ve even been to the past! And survived! What more do I have to do?”

Becker took a moment to think of an answer. He himself was new to the operation, and this was only his fourth anomaly.

Before Becker could tell Quinn the answer, he heard something outside.

A thud. Then another, then two more.

Quinn turned around in his chair as far as the cuffs allowed. The blinds prevented them from seeing out.

Becker jumped off his chair and grabbed his gun.

“Oy! What about me?” Quinn called at him.

After a moment’s hesitation, Becker decided that they had bigger things to worry about than some minor crime. “Sorry.” Becker took out the keys and quickly uncuffed him. He then returned to Quinn his Glock 17.

The pair of them ran out to the backlot and found a true giant staring down at them.

It must have been more than 20 feet tall, with a very long, thick neck and quite a small head, a bit like a giraffe’s. However, the rest of its body was like that of a giant elephant, with column-like legs, predominantly hairless skin and, as Becker walked around its great bulk, a short tail. Becker estimated it could have been nearly 20 tons.

As Becker looked over, his soldiers still had their guns aimed at it, though they now appeared to be a lot less focussed on their job, their mouths agape. Danny too, was in awe.

“What is it?” he asked.

Becker took out the laptop from the nearby jeep. He used Temple’s program to whittle it down. The features were very distinctive, and it was quickly brought down to one genus – Paraceratherium.

Becker read out the details – “A genus of… indricotheres, a group of giant herbivorous mammals from the Eocene to Miocene epochs. Paraceratherium lived from the mid-Oligocene to early-Miocene epochs, from 30 to 20 million years ago. Paraceratherium was the biggest land mammal there has ever been, bigger than any mammoth, and as big as the average sauropod dinosaur. It could be 5.5 metres or 18 feet tall at the shoulder, and more than 8 metres or 26 feet long. It could weigh as much as 20 tons, or as much as four African elephants…”

“Yeah, we get it, it’s big!” Quinn interrupted.

Becker closed the laptop. He looked up at the giant mammal. It just stood there, looking around, taking everything in. It was boxed in, except for the vehicle track-way. They had to somehow shepherd it through the anomaly.

“OK, men, let’s try and persuade her to go home!”

“It’s a he!” Danny corrected.

Becker ignored him and walked over in front of its head, at the bottom of its eyeline. It looked down at him curiously. The titanic mammal was barely out of the anomaly, its back legs surrounded by light. He just had to get it to reverse. Not an easy task.

Becker started waving at it and clapping.

The soldiers were still ready to shoot the beast.

“Don’t use your guns!” Danny told them. “We don’t want to panic him.”

Becker climbed up on a nearby ladder for a better vantage point. About to continue his show for the indricothere, he noticed something in the corner of his eye, on the other side of the backlot.

A large hole at the bottom of one of the doors leading into the backlot.

“Oh, no…”

He heard a grunting noise from beneath the Paraceratherium’s belly. It looked down and saw the tiny Diictodons scampering in and around its legs. It raised its head and let out a loud, deep, lowing noise, then proceeded to stamp its feet, trying to hit the mouse-like creatures. They kept running around, grunting, and making sudden moves.

The ground shook every time the creature’s foot hit the ground. Becker fell off the ladder, onto a nearby plastic stunt mat.

Like an elephant with a mouse, the indricothere panicked. It turned away from Becker, bypassed the anomaly and charged through the wooden partition. And it just kept on going, onto the main road, crushing every car in its path.

Becker looked over to see Sarah behind the chewed-through door, cringing.

So, they had a gigantic bull indricothere on the rampage through London.

Becker started to feel like he’d drawn the short straw.

Chapter Nine

Terra Nova

Abby entered her flat through the sliding door. She was immediately greeted by a welcoming chirp from Rex, her pet Coelurosauravus. He lifted his nose from the bowl of strawberries he had been curiously sniffing at, spread his wings, and fluttered down to her shoulder.

“Hi Rex. Fancy some locusts?”

She walked over to the kitchen area and withdrew a box of insects from one of the cupboards. She then walked over to the worktop, and poured a few into Rex’s food dish. Immediately, Rex dropped from her shoulder and started to munch at the dry insects, his favourite meal.

“Morning!” Jack called from the bedroom above.

“Actually Jack, it’s one o’clock. Pm,” Abby corrected.

“Whatever…” he said, as he walked down the stairs.

“Afternoon, then!”

Rex chirped again. Abby looked down to see he’d already finished his breakfast, and was now nosing through the box that she’d absent-mindedly left on the counter.

“Bad Rex, no! No second helpings!” Abby scolded, lifting the box. She firmly closed it and returned it to the cupboard.

She turned up to her brother above her. “Jack, I need to tell you about something.” She considered telling him the truth about her job – he was her brother, after all. Then she reminded herself that he would never believe her anyway. And, he was safer this way. “For the zoo, I have to go abroad for a while. We don’t know how long it’ll be, but it’ll be a few days anyway.”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

She decided that she might as well tell him that. “Florida.” The best lies are, after all, half-truth.

“Florida! Why? A holiday?”

“Because… because we’re trying to save the critically endangered Florida Panther. Its numbers in the wild are now incredibly slim, and the zoo has organised a team to go over there and help out on an American project.”

“What are you gonna get done in a few days?”

“Oh, we’ll be replaced by a second team who are there more permanently.”

Abby hoped, prayed that Jack would just buy this and stop asking questions.

“…OK. So, you want me to take care of Rex?”

XXXX

After circumnavigating the car-park several times, Jenny finally found a free space between a Renault Espace people-carrier and a Transit van. Hemple had left the ARC before she had finished packing, so she and Connor, sat beside her, were lagging behind by an hour.

They had taken Jenny’s car. Cutter’s old Hilux was still getting repaired after the airport incident.

There wasn’t much in the boot. They were unlikely to get most of their equipment through customs, seeing as most of it either resembled weaponry, or was weaponry. The equipment that was essential had been taken by Hemple so he would have more time to explain it. Before she left the ARC, Lester had mentioned something about a diplomatic bag to get the vital locking mechanism to Florida later. That would, however, be a tall order – with terrorism high alert across the western world, they would probably have trouble with something that looked like a laser-gun from a sci-fi movie.

They did, however, carry their own suitcases with them. Jenny took out her two, packed with several changes of clothing and toiletries, and then passed Connor out his.

Lester had booked the flight ahead of time. They predicted that, at the moment, Miami would be quite a popular tourist destination.

Jenny made sure they’d taken everything out, and then locked the car. They walked together to the airport, and found Hemple and his team. Jenny didn’t recognise them at first glance, as they were dressed in everyday, civilian clothes. He’d secured the tickets, as he reported in a very militaristic way, but predictably much of the kit had been refused. They did, however, have a few detectors, and some light weapons – by the looks of things, Lester had phoned ahead to secure them that much. Connor had also brought along his laptop.

As they waited in the lounge, discussing the best course of action to take, they spotted Abby finally arriving. She had left her pet Rex with Jack, and was ready to go.

Jenny saw Abby sit down beside Connor, opposite her in the lounge, and whisper something in his ear. She couldn’t make it out, but it clearly flustered Connor. He whispered something back. Whatever he said, it seemed to satisfy her.

He left them with Duncan, who’d promised to take good care of them. That was the story.

Sitting in the plane, Connor realised how many holes there were in his story if someone tried to pick it apart.

Why would Duncan agree to take care of these things on such short notice, when he still didn’t know about the anomalies, or what these creatures were? Connor was forbidden to tell anyone outside the operation about the anomalies. Duncan had been forced to sign a legal waiver, but had never been told exactly what happened to Tom. Duncan wouldn’t know about Sid and Nancy’s special requirements, what food they needed, and a vet certainly wouldn’t tell him about that!

Connor’s thoughts were interrupted as the plane took off. He tensed up in his seat. He felt his ears pop as they quickly ascended. Then, it evened out. He relaxed again, and reclined in his seat. He hated flying. The beginning and the end were the worst. He released the pressure built up within his inner ear, yawning and swallowing. The left ear returned to normal, but the right was still uncomfortably jammed. Connor sighed and decided to leave it. The ear would normalise, given time.

He was sat on the left set of seats, and along the aisle. Jenny was sat beside him, with Hemple at the window. Across from Connor, Abby was sat nearest him. She had her headphones on, and had her eyes closed. She has the right idea, he thought. Sat beside her, two of Hemple’s soldiers were sitting upright and alert. While Connor would rather have been sitting there himself, their protective presence did reassure him.

Hemple’s other three men sat just behind Connor, Jenny and Hemple. A squad of five was small compared to normal missions, though larger than the last foreign mission, to Peru. He didn’t really count Guns Island, or the Russian kidnapping, for that matter…

They were now dressed in civilian wear. The usual black jumpsuit would have drawn unnecessary attention to the group. As far as the park was concerned, these highly-trained military professionals were just tourists coming to gawk at the big dinosaurs.

Soon, the seatbelts-on light switched off. He unclipped the fastener. These stupid, complicated seatbelts were another thing he hated about flying.

Jenny retrieved the in-flight magazine, and leafed through it. Connor did likewise, though he didn’t find anything to interest him. He returned it, and decided to just try and go to sleep. Miami was five hours behind good old GMT 0. The jetlag would be a nightmare.

After failing to drop off, Connor looked around himself. In the seat in front of them, a woman sat in between a young child and a man around her age. From their conversation, he gathered that they were a family unit – a mother, a father and their child.

In the seat behind Abby, he saw a red-haired man in a pinstripe suit and blue tie. His outfit reminded Connor of Lester. Beside him, there was a man with black hair and stubble, wearing sunglasses. He was wearing a black leather jacket. At the window, a blonde woman spoke into her mobile phone. She was apparently phoning home, asking about her pets.

And with that, Connor’s mind returned to Sid and Nancy. Sarah was trustworthy, although he couldn’t be sure of how well she could take care of them.

He decided to take his mind off them and just try again to get some shut-eye. He took off his waistcoat and rested it on his lap. He settled in for the next nine hours of flying.

Hemple ran the kit through his head again. They had brought along light weapons only. Part of the reason for that was to get them through customs without causing too much of a fuss.

However, the main reason was because this was supposed to be a quiet mission for once. They had to get into the park without alerting security or causing a scare. He hoped that Lester would get them in as normal guests or VIPs. But for that to work, the weapons had to be as minimal as possible. They might be able to take in small guns, but that was it.

To that end, they had brought three Sig Sauer P226 pistols and three Desert Eagle pistols, plus all the relevant refill ammo. Six guns meant one for each of his squad, and one for him (he would be handling a desert eagle).

Abby, on the other hand, preferred to use tranquilizers. She had insisted on bringing along two trank pistols. That left them with eight weapons, to face the onslaught of what must be hundreds of creatures, as well as a defensive security force, should it come to that.

Hemple considered his training in hand-to-hand combat, but quickly dismissed the thought of taking on a T-Rex with his fists at the ready.

Hemple’s squad were the ARC Alpha Team. These were the same men who had been with him on his last ARC mission, to Russia. Murdoch, Redfern, Garney and Mason. There was also a new addition to the team, experienced ARC medic David Doody, who had survived the Guns Island incident.

If the team ever got caught with their guns, then the story was very close to the truth. They were inspecting the park on behalf of the British government, and were carrying weapons in case of emergency.

They had to do this diplomatically. They couldn’t step on too many toes. Of course, they needed to get into the park and deal with the creatures, and not cause a foreign policy crisis in the process. But that was Lester’s worry, not his. From Hemple’s point of view, they needed to make allies here, for the storm that was coming. These people must have had some serious weaponry. If at any point the pistols weren’t enough, they were going to need that sort of backup.

And the pistols were definitely not going to be enough.

Connor was jolted awake. He felt the whole plane judder around and beneath him.

The man with the leather jacket walked down the aisle beside him, coming down from the toilet.

Connor quickly reached for his seatbelt. His fingers were shaking as he tried to get the bloody thing to work. Why don’t they work like car seatbelts? he thought.

Jenny, who already had hers on, grabbed it.

“Look, this is how you do it!” she said.

“No, it’s fine, I can manage!” Connor replied.

“Well, you clearly can’t, I’m afraid!”

Connor took the two ends of the belt back from her, and tied them together around his waist.

He grinned at Jenny’s look of annoyance.

“Look,” she said, “we’re near the coast of Florida now, and we’ve just hit a bit of turbulence. There’s an Atlantic storm, nothing serious. Just sit tight, we should only be a few minutes.”

Standing outside the airport, Connor noticed how uncannily similar the flag of Miami was to the flag of India. They were almost identical. When he took a closer look, though, he realised that, instead of a blue wheel, this flag had a green palm tree – at least, it looked like a palm tree.

The city was hot and humid. Only now did Connor realise they’d come to a very hot area of the world, in summer. Connor looked at his watch. It said 10 pm, London time, which made sense. They’d left the ARC at about 11 am, it had taken them about an hour and a half to get on the flight, and the flight had been nine hours, give or take. Taking into account the time difference, it was now 5 pm in Florida. It was hot now, and he knew it would only be worse in the morning. Thankfully for him, he’d remembered to buy sun-cream in the duty-free back in London.

Now in the Miami heat, Connor wasn’t sure whether or not he missed England’s relentless and unusual July rain. Annoyingly, they had left on the one dry day they had experienced in weeks. He assumed that the others would be having a nice time in the moderate sun.

Despite the sweltering heat, the sky was a cloudy one. This was a sticky, thundery heat. The storm they’d hit earlier on must have caught up with them again.

He was sitting on a bench outside the airport. He had his single suitcase beside him.

The others were all still inside, trying to account for all the weaponry. Connor had decided that he had little to contribute to the effort, so decided to stay outside and wait.

After checking out the local scenery, he took out his laptop and opened the internet. He decided to check out this place’s website. It was disappointing, for such a massive project. He looked through it. Just as he was studying a picture of a flock of Gallimimus, the others arrived with the luggage.

They took taxis to their hotel. There, they would stay until the following afternoon, when the park opened.

XXXX

“Tequila and tonic, please.”

The barman passed the requested drink down to the man sitting at the end of the bar. He was tall, with black hair, and stubble. He drank from the glass. He was wearing a black leather jacket and dark jeans.

He looked at his watch. 11:58. He quickly finished his drink, and paid his bill.

He put on his sunglasses and stepped off from the stool.

He walked out into the street. It was raining heavily. The weather forecast on Saturday had promised blue skies and perfect weather for the whole of Tuesday. The weather forecast yesterday, Sunday, had changed that to mild weather and slight danger of rain. This morning’s weather forecast had left it at a chance of stormy weather. Seemingly, this storm had just come from nowhere. Tuesday had seemed like such a good opening day. But, it wasn’t his choice, or his problem.

He walked swiftly along the street. The streetlights illuminated the busy traffic. He’d lived in Miami for four years, but never had he seen such panic and disarray in the city. But this was the biggest thing this city had ever seen.

The man walked with purpose. He knew where he was going.

After some time, he stopped. He turned to a park across the street. He walked around the stationary cars and made his way over.

He climbed over the iron railing around the park. He walked over the grass, towards an old oak tree. It was surrounded by other dense foliage, providing shelter from the storm, which was getting ever heavier.

This was the spot.

“You’re late!”

He watched the woman with short, dark hair walk out of the darkness, into the light of the nearby streetlamp, broken by the tree branches.

“Only by ten minutes!” he replied.

“Twelve, actually.”

He half-smiled.

“So? Are they here?” she asked.

“Yes. I wouldn’t be back if they weren’t.”

“Good. Where are they?”

“They’re staying at a hotel, not far from the airport.”

“They didn’t notice you following them?”

“Of course not.”

“Make sure they get the tickets!”

“Already taken care of!” he said. “On the plane. Temple was fast asleep. He’ll soon find nine tickets to Everglades Land of Time in the pocket of his waistcoat.”

“Very good, Ketterman! There’s only two left now. You need to go back to London. These ones might not be so easy.”

The woman’s phone rang. She answered. “Yes? What? Here? How? OK, I’ll be there.”

“What was all that about?” Ketterman asked.

“Just business. I’ll be in touch. You know what to do.”

Ketterman nodded.

Helen then returned to the shadows, and disappeared. Ketterman was left alone under the oak tree, as the rain pelted down.

Chapter Ten

The Short Straw

Bravery never goes out of style. – William Makepeace Thackeray

Previously…

-- Like an elephant with a mouse, the indricothere panicked. It turned away from Becker, bypassed the anomaly and charged through the wooden partition. And it just kept on going, onto the main road, crushing every car in its path. --

Danny jumped through the hole in the partition, made by the charging indricothere. He was soon followed by Becker and several soldiers, all heavily armed. Together, they raced after the beast.

They soon caught up to the leviathan. It was truly majestic, and beautiful, but dangerous all the same.

Becker loaded his shotgun and prepared to shoot.

“NO!” Danny shouted, grabbing the gun by the barrel.

“Quinn! What the hell…”

“If we shoot it, we’ll only panic it more. We need to lead it back.”

“And how do you suggest we do that then?”

Danny paused, and considered the situation. Then, he came up with an idea. It wasn’t particularly well-thought out, nor was it all that likely to work, but it was at least an idea.

“I’ll be right back”, he said. He sprinted down the street, towards the indricothere.

Ten yards away from it, he ducked behind a parked, undamaged Mini. He peeked over the roof, and saw the mammal reaching up to a third story window with ease. It sniffed, and then continued down the street. It stamped its right forelimb down on a bicycle, crushing it to the ground. Danny heard screams, and saw a few people running down the street past him, away from it.

Danny, on the other hand, had to get past it.

He emerged, and tiptoed slowly towards it. By the time he was just ten feet behind it, Danny saw the indricothere stop, stand still, and cock its giraffe-like ears.

Danny stopped walking.

The beast turned its head and neck towards him.

As soon as it spotted him, the indricothere turned around in the street and headed straight for him.

Danny realised he was sandwiched between the Mini and a big Transit van. The van was parked awkwardly on the pavement, and various building equipment was set on the concrete, completely blocking Danny’s way. Danny couldn’t run.

Danny waited until the last moment, with the beast right in front of him, and jumped out of the way.

He was just in time. The creature rammed into the van, and proceeded to destroy it, the new object of its rage.

Danny took the opportunity to escape.

Sarah cursed her luck. The one time she’d been allowed on one of these missions, she had, by no fault of her own, just triggered a monumental stampede.

She used a blanket and, slowly, soundlessly, approached one of the little terrorists.

In one fell swoop, she covered and grabbed it.

“Gotcha, you sneaky little bugger…”

Sarah stuffed the struggling creature into a cardboard box, and sellotaped the lid shut. The creature continued to protest in the darkness.

“Don’t worry! I made air-holes!” Sarah said. She then looked over at the soldier still at her side, who was looking at her as if she was mad.

“Well I did!” she said.

He merely turned back to the locker. He pressed a few buttons, and the mechanism shot an electric beam towards the shimmering light, hovering in mid-air. Immediately, the shards around it were pulled inwards and the anomaly turned into a spherical shape.

“Wow,” Sarah exclaimed. She then turned her attention to the second escape artist.

It was hiding underneath a pile of stage equipment after the indricothere’s onslaught. Sarah had little trouble catching it, and the pair soon fell sound asleep in the darkness of the box.

Sarah then placed them together into the boot of the car she’d come in. She would have then driven back to the ARC, as per Becker’s original order, but now the roads weren’t exactly as safe as they had been half an hour earlier.

Lester was growing impatient. Becker still hadn’t called back with situation report, as he usually did by this point.

He paced around his office. He looked out into the ARC main operations room. It was eerily empty. A few technical staff were assembled around the computers, and a couple of soldiers were keeping guard. He didn’t feel lonely, in fact he enjoyed the peace and quiet with the lack of so-called experts. He felt vulnerable.

“Situation Report?”

“The ARC is practically empty. The soldiers are all away at the park or the anomaly.”

“Excellent,” Christine replied to her trusted cohort, Captain Wilder. It was time to put her plan into action.

Becker spoke into the mobile phone. “Sit-rep: The anomaly has been located and locked. One creature has come through, though. Paraceratherium, a huge, 20 ton rhino-relative from the Oligocene and Miocene epochs.”

“So, where is it now? Did it go back through?” Lester asked.

“Regrettably, it panicked and broke onto the road. No casualties as of yet, but substantial damage has been sustained. Fortunately, it has now calmed down.” He was about thirty yards from the creature. It was now standing still once again, unaware it was being watched.

“Well, find a way to get it back, through, then!” Lester ordered. He seemed particularly impatient today.

“Understood, sir. Over and… oh, what the hell is doing now?!”

Becker switched off the phone, as he saw Quinn driving his motorbike right in front of the creature.

This plan had to work. If it failed, he could well get trampled to death.

Danny revved the motorbike in front of the indricothere. It started to stamp the ground again, identifying the man as a rival.

Danny pushed his luck as far as it would go. He continued to rev until the mammal broke into a charge.

Danny turned the bike around and sped off down the street. He had originally planned not to go all that fast, but looking behind him now, he realised that had been a misjudged choice. The indricothere was reaching quite a nippy speed. He continued to rev the engine as he sped along, but the giant creature continued to keep up, even gain ground, thanks to its long strides.

Danny dodged cars and other objects unaffected by the earlier rampage. He then turned towards the entrance he’d originally used to get into the film set. He drove around the lifting gate this time, while the beast behind him merely stepped over.

He again entered the complex through the vehicle entrance. Thankfully, the huge creature did actually fit. He now put the final stage of the plan into action.

He opened his mobile and called Sarah. She quickly picked up, and Danny asked her to unlock the anomaly. Danny came towards the now-uplifting gate and, with seconds to spare, the anomaly burst back into full size. He drove straight up the ramp, and drove through, to the other side. And the indricothere followed.

Sarah ran over to the portal. “Danny!” There was no reply. Then, before she could call again, the shimmering anomaly closed.

Chapter Eleven
King of the Chess-Board
Fortune favours the audacious. – Erasmus
Danny hit the ground. It was hard. He'd fallen off his bike in the impact.
He dodged the landing indricothere. The ground shook as it landed.
The indricothere's run slowed to a canter now, and Danny viewed the awe-inspiring landscape around him. The anomaly had opened atop a great ridge of rock. The ridge was only about twenty yards wide. On either side of him he could see the ground disappear, over what he assumed was a sheer cliff-face. Around this ridge, he could see a great canyon landscape stretching off into the distance. This was not the highest peak, as he could clearly see. In the valleys between the ridges he could see vegetation, and more giant indricotheres, as well as smaller animals. There were plenty of trees, but a distinct lack of grassland. There were tufts of grass here and there, but not anything like he would expect to see in the modern day.
Danny looked over to the giant indricothere. It had lost interest in him, and was now leaning against a large, dead tree.
On this ridge, he could see bushes further along, around where the ridge started to slop towards ground level. The other end of the ridge was another cliff face.
Danny wrenched his eyes away from the spectacular scenery and looked back to his way home.
He saw, to his horror, the anomaly shut.
He fell flat to the dusty, red earth. He tried to comprehend what had just happened.
His thoughts were interrupted by a threatening growl from behind him.
He pushed himself off the ground, to see three huge wolves erupt from the bushes further down. They ran towards the old bull indricothere and launched themselves straight at him. Their great claws inflicted deep wounds in the side of their intended prey.
Then, one of them bit down hard on the indricothere's neck. Its large canines punctured an artery, which started to spurt blood, but the indricothere only flinched for a second. It swayed its massive body to the side, dislodging two of the predators. He then used the same tactic he'd used with those little reptile things that had panicked him earlier – he stamped at the ground. The predators retreated.
Then, the indricothere, still with another predator clawing at its side, ran straight at his other two tormentors. One of them dodged out of the way just in time. The other took the full brunt of the charge. It was knocked clean off its feet, and thrown several yards. Before it could regain its footing, it started to roll downhill. After a few yards, it fell straight of the cliff. Danny heard a thud as it reached the bottom.
By now, Danny had stood up, and reached his bike. He could do nothing for the time being – the clash of titans took up most of the ridge, and he could not risk getting caught up in such a tussle. He reached for his gun – but it was gone. He must have dropped it.
After losing their hunting partner, the two remaining predators retreated. Now that Danny got a look at them, he realised that they weren't all that like wolves. They were some kind of ancient predator.
The indricothere was still spurting blood, but it would survive. It lay down on the ground after an exhausting day. The sun was setting, and Danny needed to find somewhere safe.
He mounted his bike, and then drove off towards the far end of the ridge. He couldn't see how navigable this way was, as it was obscured by shrubbery. But if a gigantic indricothere could get up here, surely he could get down.
XXXX
"Soldiers! Stand to attention!"
The line of twenty camouflage-clad, well-armed soldiers slapped their boots to the floor. All in identical positions, they had their hands behind their backs and their heads up, waiting for an order.
Wilder walked up the line of men, inspecting his squad. They were all hand-picked by himself, and approved by Ms Johnson.
They all knew the plan. They would take control of the anomaly operation by force. The ARC security was now almost non-existent. But, above all else, they were to confiscate the artefact. Although they had not received any solid proof that it was being held there, Ms Johnson was adamant that Lester was lying, and that Helen Cutter had brought it to the ARC, inadvertently giving it to them.
If it was there, they would find it.
XXXX
Becker ran as fast as he could. He sprinted through the vehicle entrance, following Quinn. Danny's plan was simple, but it could have gone wrong in a million different ways. Fortunately, it seemed as if the indricothere had followed him.
Normally Becker would have driven after them, but for Quinn's half-plan to work, the indricothere needed as little distraction as possible.
The squad followed behind Becker, with their weapons still at the ready.
But something was wrong. He couldn't hear anything up ahead – no anomaly sounds, so indricothere grunts, no engine noise.
And, just as he feared, the anomaly had indeed closed completely. Sarah and her bodyguard were standing there, staring into where it had been.
Becker slowed from sprint, to jog, to walk, to a standstill. The pair noticed his presence and looked over.
"Where's Quinn?" Becker asked them.
"He… he went through," Sarah replied.
Becker didn't need to hear any more. The plan had worked, but, this time, Quinn's luck had run out.
...
They cleared up the equipment. The more severe damage caused by the stampede would have to wait for the long term – Lester wanted them back immediately.
Becker picked up Quinn's gun. It was a Glock 17, standard police issue. According to Sarah, it fell when he went up the ramp on his bike.
It twitched.
Just for a second, it twitched in his hand. Just the slightest of movements.
Then it twitched again. This time, more noticeably.
Then, in a split-second it all happened, and Becker could scarcely take it in.
The gun shot out of his hand. At the exact same moment, the anomaly burst back into life, creating an array of light and sound that flooded Becker's senses. Just as it materialised, the gun shot straight into its core.
Becker took a second to recompose himself. The anomaly had re-opened.
Becker picked up the anomaly detector resting nearby. The readings were strong. They could go through.
"Men! We're going through. Rescue mission," he shouted.
His soldiers picked up their weapons and stood to attention.
The anomaly flickered. No… Becker looked at the detector. It can't close… it's too strong…
"Sarah! Lock it!" Becker shouted.
Sarah ran over to the locker, on the opposite side of the anomaly to Becker. But it was too late.
The anomaly spun around itself and closed.
"What the hell just happened?" he barked. "The readings were strong. It should have stayed open!"
"It must have moved!" Sarah replied.
Becker remembered. Anomalies could move along fault-lines. Moving anomalies were rare, but they did occur. This anomaly still existed, only somewhere else…
...
Lester wandered through his domain.
It was eerily quiet. This place was usually a hive of various activities, a collision of different professions, and the government departments that went with them. The military, biologists, lab technicians, physicists, animal experts, palaeontologists, and maverick scientists. Now, the place seemed nearly empty. Just a fraction of the military force remained, and most of the scientists were either investigating the anomaly, or busy at work researching this park.
Lester paced through the corridors. He did this several times a day, to keep an eye on the various projects in the different sections of the ARC. This time, it also helped to calm his nerves, and simply give him something to do.
He emerged out onto the central walkway, overlooking the main operations room. The detector was quiet, still scanning the country for new anomalies. According to the on-screen annotations, all known anomalies were no longer open, which fitted in with Becker's recent phone-call. He and his squad were packing up to return to the ARC.
If a new anomaly opened now, then they were really in trouble.
The blaring alert rang out across the ARC. Lester banged the railing with his fist and quietly swore.
One of the scientists, Connor's stand-in, rushed out of one of the lower corridors towards the detector. His name, as far as Lester could remember, was Nigel. He triangulated the signal down, as Lester was now so used to seeing.
"Well, where is it?" Lester shouted down.
Nigel looked around, having not noticed Lester's presence before now.
"Oh, sir!" he replied, and turned back to the screen. "It is…" he waited for it to settle on a fixed point. "At the film-set! It's the same anomaly as before, it's re-opened!"
Lester considered this. Truthfully, it was the best anomaly location he could have hoped for. Becker was still there, and so was the locker. All going well, he should be able to lock the anomaly before anything came through.
Then, the situation changed drastically.
The anomaly just disappeared.
The alarm ceased.
"What happened?" Lester called down, as Nigel started frantically typing on the keyboard. "Has it closed?"
"Maybe…" he replied. "But none of it makes sense. With most anomalies, the radio interference and magnetics lessen when the anomaly starts to close. But this one was different – everything was still registering strongly when it closed."
"Could it be an error with the detector?"
"Possibly. But more likely, it's moved somewhere else."
Lester paused. "Well, where to?"
"It's not showing up… I can't find it!"
Lester rubbed his forehead. "DAMN IT!"
The phone in his office started to ring. He turned away from Nigel and walked towards it, closing the door behind him.
He picked up. Before he could answer though, Becker's familiar voice came out of the other end.
"Lester! The anomaly must have moved somewhere else…"
"Yes, Becker, the detector picked up everything. Except, now it's not showing up…"
"Perhaps a momentary delay in it being picked up?" Becker suggested.
"No, it's been long enough now."
"Well, I'll go looking for it with short-range detectors, see if we can't get a fix on it."
"No!" Lester told him. "You'll report back to the ARC until it shows up. I won't have you wasting time while Christine could be on her way."
Then, there was silence.
"Becker? Becker, are you there?"
A second pause.
"Yes," Becker finally confirmed.
Lester sighed and decided to use a different tack.
"Becker, have you ever played chess?"
"Yes…"
"Well, think of the ARC as the king. If it goes, everything goes. Checkmate. Game over."

Chapter Twelve
Checkmate

All warfare is based on deception. – Sun Tzu, 'The Art of War'

Private Jacobs groaned as he lifted another crate of machine guns into the truck.
"Keep packing," Captain Wilder shouted at his soldiers, "we leave in fifteen minutes." He stood with his back to one wall of the vehicle bay, watching his soldiers load more weapons into the trucks. Soon they would take the ARC by force.
He received a transmission on his walkie-talkie and picked it up.
"What's the status?" Christine Johnson asked, impatiently.
"We're loading the trucks. We're good to go in fifteen minutes." Wilder replied.
"Remember that once you're inside the ARC, your top priority is to find the Artefact, and bring it to me. Is that understood?"
"Understood."
"Good," Christine said, and Wilder could practically hear her smirking. "James won't know what hit him."
Christine hung up, so Wilder put his walkie-talkie away. Suddenly, somebody screamed. Everybody looked up from what they were doing.
"What the hell was that?" Wilder asked, staring at where the noise had come from.

Sarah, Captain Becker and the squad packed up their equipment.
After some minor trouble with hiding Sid and Nancy in the boot, Becker and Sarah stepped into the jeep, left the film set and drove back onto the main road, right behind the SUVs of the other soldiers.
After about forty-five minutes of driving, their route took them to the outskirts of the suburbs, and Becker and Sarah found themselves having to wait at the traffic lights, while the others drove on.
A grumble from the Diictodons in the boot caught Becker's attention.
"You know we can't just take in every creature that comes through an anomaly," he said, "and we're going to have to tell someone about these two before long."
"I promised Connor I'd look after them," Sarah replied.
"I'm just saying that -"
Something rammed against the side of the car, shaking the vehicle and setting it off balance.
"What the hell?" Becker turned around, only to see a large, doglike head staring in his window. The owner of that head was very large mammal, as big as a horse, with a body similar to that of an Alsatian, only with shorter, stockier legs and a short coat of pale brown fur.
It peered into the window, and tried to poke its head through, but banged into the glass. It tried again, not understanding why it couldn't reach the humans within. Agitated, it started to scratch at the glass with one of its front paws. It seemed calm.
Becker reached for his shotgun. Once it was firmly in his hand, he got ready to slam the accelerator pedal, and make a break for it.
Becker honked his horn at the creature. It jumped back down from the car window, and roared at the vehicle. It rammed into the car again, harder this time, smashing the window, and trying to force itself inside. Becker ignored the shards of glass and reversed as fast as he could, causing the creature to lose its balance, and fall back out onto the road.
It stood back up, and returned to the window. Becker had to stop reversing, to avoid crashing into a wall. It was now clearly very disconcerted, and soon it crammed its head inside the car again, trying to catch Becker with its jaws. Its breath stank of rotting flesh.
Becker held firmly onto the gun, and took his shot. There was a very loud bang, and the predator howled in pain, retreating back out onto the road. Becker had shot through one of the creature's nostrils.
Discouraged by its painful injury, the creature decided to make a run for it, and bolted off into the roadside woods. Within seconds, it was out of sight.
"Where did that come from?" Becker said, catching his breath.
"Another anomaly," Sarah replied.
Becker picked up his anomaly detector. It seemed to be picking up a very faint signal. "There's an anomaly, just south of here," he said. It was the same direction as the beast had gone. "That's probably where the creature is headed."
"What do we do now?" Sarah asked Becker.
"We can't risk this creature harming any civilians," Becker answered, as he put the gun down and drove the car after it.
Captain Wilder peered around a corner, clutching his SMG.
He retreated back, and picked up his walkie-talkie.
"We have a situation," he said. "An anomaly has opened up on the premises, and it appears that creatures have come through."
"Tell your men to deal with the situation," Christine Johnson replied, dryly. "I want them to shoot any and all creatures upon sight."
"This new anomaly may not be fully concealed by the cloaking device," Wilder stated. "What should we do?"
"Increase the range of the cloaking signal."
"But won't that affect the power in other areas …"
"That's an order, Captain. Increase the range of the signal!"
"Right away."
Wilder knew that increasing the strength of the cloaking device was not a good idea. It took a lot of power to keep that thing running, and he knew that increasing the strength would mean temporarily shutting down other systems in the base. The same power grid controlled the elevators, the security cameras, some of the computers…
But regardless, he obeyed his orders.

Becker and Sarah headed south, towards the anomaly.
"If you see the creature," Becker told Sarah, "then tell me immediately."
"Of course," she replied.
Sarah looked out of the car windows. There was nothing to be seen except trees.
Then suddenly, she caught a glimpse of something.
"Becker!" she whispered, pointing into the trees, "Over there."
Becker stopped the car, and peered into the foliage. Something appeared to be moving in the undergrowth. It was getting dark, so it was hard to say for sure exactly what it was, but in any case, the thing in the bushes appeared to be pale brown in colour.
"Hand me the gun," Becker whispered, and Sarah handed it to him.
The creature was getting closer. The bushes cleared, to reveal…
…an ordinary Labrador. It ran towards the ARC jeep, wagging its tail. In the thicket, two young children followed the dog, laughing and shouting joyfully as they ran.
Becker sighed with relief. He then looked to Sarah.
"Sorry…" she said, awkwardly.
Then suddenly, the dog stopped in its tracks. It bared its teeth, and began to snarl, seemingly at Becker and Sarah.
At first, they didn't understand, but then, the smell of rotting meat became noticeable. The two of them turned around. The creature they had been looking for was standing on the other side of the jeep.
But it wasn't interested in them. Instead, it turned its attention to the laughing, shouting children.
The dog went berserk, and started barking at the predator, perhaps in an attempt to defend its owners. However, once the dog saw how just how large and threatening the aggressor really was, it whimpered and ran off into the forest.
Sarah rolled down her window. "Hey," she shouted to the children. "Hey you! Get away from here!"
Becker honked the car horn, grabbing the creature's attention. It lost interest in the kids, and began to follow the jeep instead.
Despite its short legs, the creature was able to run at quite an impressive speed. It bounded after them, like some evil monstrosity straight out of Hell, panting as it ran, showing all too well its formidable set of teeth.
It followed them for what seemed like hours, down the road through the forest. As he drove, Becker started to get the strange feeling that he'd been here before…
Eventually, the creature tired, and soon, it gave up the chase altogether. In fact, because of how dark it was now, the predator was nowhere to be seen.
"We lost it," Becker said, "Damn!"
"Um… Becker?" Sarah said, looking out of the window to her left.
Becker turned to the same direction as she was facing. A surge of emotion swept over him, but he wasn't quite sure whether it was fear or relief. In any case, he now knew why this route had seemed so familiar.
Just down the hill, they could see the shimmering anomaly, hovering just above the ground on a nearby lawn, contrasting with the darkness of the night by casting an eerie, pale glow over the surrounding area. Close to the anomaly there stood a tall building. One of its glass windows was smashed to bits.
They were at Christine Johnson's headquarters.
"This is bad…" Becker muttered to himself.
"Why, what is it?" Sarah didn't understand.
"You see that building there?" Becker replied, "That's the headquarters of Christine Johnson, the Home Office's military liaison officer. We shouldn't be here at all…"
"But what about the creature? Shouldn't we get it back through the anomaly, so it can't cause any more trouble?"
"We're not supposed to be here! If Christine's men find us here, they'll most likely have you arrested, and I'll be court-martialed for disobeying Lester's orders."
Below them, they saw the creature walking out of the trees. It sat down on the grass close to the anomaly, clearly exhausted from the chase.
"We have to do something, Becker…"
"Alright…" Becker sighed, realizing that Sarah was right. "How do you suggest we do this?"

Nervously Sarah walked, as quietly as she could, towards the anomaly, whilst being careful to always keep a bush or two between her and the creature, in the hope that it wouldn't notice her.
Fortunately, it didn't seem to realize that she was there.
She had planned this out carefully. All she had to do now was to get between the creature and the anomaly.
Now came the most difficult part. She now had to walk out onto the field, and hope that the creature wouldn't see, hear or smell her until she was in the right place.
Thankfully, she was downwind of the predator, and the rustling of the leaves in the nearby trees masked the sound of her footsteps. Then, finally, she reached just the right location.
"Hey!" she called, trying to attract the predator's attention. "Hey! Over here!"
The creature raised its ears, stood up, and turned to face her. It snarled. Did it recognize her? She didn't know the creature's exact identity (Connor would) and therefore knew very little about its behaviour or its level of intelligence, but in any case, it seemed quite likely.
It bolted towards her, and, not needing much encouragement, Sarah ran. But she wasn't trying to escape the predator. She was heading for the anomaly. The creature was a lot faster than she was, but that didn't matter. She just needed to reach the right spot at the right time…
All of a sudden, the sound of a gunshot rang through the air. A small, red tranquilizer dart was now sticking out of the predator's neck. Regardless, the creature still kept going.
Sarah was now nearly at the anomaly, so she flung herself to one side, but the predator, now starting to feel the effects of the sedative drug, didn't react in time, and went straight on through the anomaly. Its run had now turned to a slow trot, and before long, Sarah heard a thump coming from the other side of the portal. The sedative had worked as intended.
Becker stepped out from his hiding place. His aim had been perfect.
"Great," he said, "now let's get out of here."
Suddenly, a series of howls echoed through the trees. Becker and Sarah turned to where the noises had come from, and when they did, they immediately wished they hadn't.
"Oh, bollocks…" Becker muttered.

Private Jacobs moved as quietly as he could along the hallway, carrying a light SMG.
It had been a few hours since the creatures first attacked. Captain Wilder had informed him of their name: 'Hyaenodon'. Not that it really mattered what they were. Wilder had given him and all the other soldiers in the facility the order to shoot any creature that entered the facility, upon sight, whether hostile or not.
Jacobs did as he was told. He always did. The thought of patrolling an abandoned corridor with a large, dangerous predator on the loose, would have put most people off, but he knew better than to disobey his superiors. And he wasn't alone. Two other privates had been assigned to the same task.
"Not much sign of this creature, is there?" one of the privates, whose name was Murray, said bitterly.
"Quiet!" Jacobs snapped.
"Alright, alright!" Murray replied, clearly tired of waiting for something to happen.
"I said be quiet!" Jacobs insisted, "I heard something! Over there." He gestured towards the door, which was about thirty feet away.
The three of them could hear some kind of racket, but because of the door's thickness, it was difficult to tell what it was. In any case, whatever was making the noise seemed to be getting closer.
Suddenly, the door was violently thrust open, but what came through it wasn't a creature.
Two people had come through. One was an athletic man in a black jumpsuit, probably a soldier judging by the looks of him, and the other person was a dark-haired woman in her late-thirties.
"Lock the door!" the man shouted, and with a bit of effort, the two of them were able to do so.

"That was close…" Sarah said, exhausted from running.
"Who are you?" a voice, coming from behind her and Becker, demanded.
The two of them turned around.
Three young soldiers stood there, scowling at them. Based on their uniforms, Becker concluded, they were in a fairly low rank.
"We're …" Becker had to think of something fast, "I'm Lieutenant Hayes, and this," he said, gesturing towards Sarah, "is Doctor Elaine Thompson from the scientific division. We heard there was a creature attack."
The three soldiers looked at each other, doubtfully. Then one of them turned around.
"Did you forget to put the right uniform on this morning... 'Lieutenant'?" he threatened.
The soldiers didn't believe them. This wasn't good. Then, Becker thought of something.
"My God, it's the creatures!" he shouted, pointing to a spot behind the soldiers.
Instinctively, they turned around. Becker wasted no time, and punched the nearest soldier in the face. The others, furious at the fact that this man had fooled them so easily, ran towards him and attempted to tackle him to the ground.
Becker grabbed the nearest soldier by the shoulders, and was able to flip his adversary over, sending him towards the wall.
Meanwhile, the third soldier raised his machine gun, and was about to pull the trigger, when suddenly he felt an agonizing pain in his crotch region, causing him to drop his weapon. Sarah had kicked him, and surprisingly hard too, despite the fact that she had had no military training. The soldier slumped to the ground, in pain.
The soldier who had been punched got to his feet, and got out his knife, but as he attempted to strike, Becker grabbed both his arms, and held back the attack. He head-butted the soldier, who stumbled backwards. Becker then took advantage of the situation, and kicked him in the stomach and uppercut him. The soldier fell on top of the soldier who had been slammed against the wall.
Nevertheless, the soldier kept moving, trying desperately to reach the machine gun that his comrade had dropped.
However, just as it was within his reach, the gun was picked up by someone.
The soldier looked up.
Becker pointed the gun towards the man's head.
"Checkmate!" he said, grinning.
Suddenly, something slammed against the door, straining its hinges. Something behind the door growled loudly. It was the creatures.
Becker was about to offer his hand to one of the men, but a loud cracking sound caught his attention. The creatures were nearly through the door.
"Come on," Sarah frantically exclaimed to the soldiers as she tried to help them back up, "you have to get out of here!"
The creatures continued to slam themselves against the door. The hinges had begun to weaken.
Sarah reached her hand out to one of the soldiers, and tried help him up, but instead of accepting her help, the man spat at her. She pulled her hand back, shocked and disgusted.
At that moment, there was a loud cracking sound. The lock was nearly completely broken. In just a few seconds, the creatures would be through.
"Let's get out of here!" Becker shouted to Sarah, grabbing her arm and dragging her down the corridor, away from the door, just as five of the strange, doglike creatures burst through. The soldiers were doomed.

Private Jacobs was paralyzed by fear.
When he first joined the army, he knew that it was a dangerous job, but as the smell of the Hyaenodons' putrid breath and the screams of his two dying comrades filled the air, all he could do now was hope for a quick death…

Becker and Sarah ran towards one of the emergency exits.
Behind them, gunfire, accompanied by yelping sounds from the creatures, could be heard.
As they reached the Toyota Hilux, Becker and Sarah looked around.
At the broken window, the creatures seemed to be retreating from the building, away from the gunshots of a large battalion of soldiers. One of the creatures dropped down dead from its injuries, and the rest disappeared through the anomaly. Within seconds, the anomaly faltered, and closed.
Wasting no time, Becker and Sarah stepped into the car and drove away.
They had seen enough.

Chapter Thirteen
Land of Time

Grant was woken up with a jolt. It had only been twelve hours since they had left the airport in the company’s V-22 Osprey. Apparently, this was the best way to travel over two-thousand miles. This corporate aircraft variant was different to its military counterpart. The open windows had been sealed off, round glass windows had been placed in along the fuselage, and the interior of the fuselage had been upgraded as well: now all wires were covered up and the seating was customised to feel more comfortable. However, it was clear that when it was upgraded they hadn’t thought about luggage requirements. Grant lifted his Burgan off his lap and started to lift his legs up and down to stretch them, groaning because of the cramp and numbness of it.
“We’re not far from the Park now,” the pilot called back.
Grant looked at Malcolm’s luggage, which was just one small suitcase.
“Packing light?” Grant nodded at the luggage.
“Well, it was what I had with me at the hotel,” Malcolm said.
“Here we are!” the pilot said.
The helicopter slowed down, presumably in order to allow Grant and Malcolm to take in the sights. They saw the one-hundred foot high electrified perimeter fence; they saw the heads of Camarasaurus above the canopies of trees, and a herd of Parasaurolophus browsing in an area of shrubbery. Grant wasn’t as enamoured with the sight as he had been twenty-one years earlier. As the fog started to clear, Malcolm and Grant saw the sheer expanse of the Park.
The helicopter finally landed at a clearing outside the hotel. The rear ramp opened up. Grant and Malcolm collected their packs, and got up to leave. Grant breathed in the fresh air as he stepped off the ramp and onto the soft ground. He saw Malcolm surveying the area.
“Good morning, you must be Doctor Grant.” A tall, young, black-haired man walked up to him and shook his hand.
Grant smiled. “You must be…”
“Rossiter, Howard Rossiter,” the man said, smiling. “That must be Doctor Malcolm?” Rossiter walked over to the chaotician.
“Uhm… yeah,” Grant said as he watched the helicopter take off. Everything went quiet. Then primordial sounds started flooding in. They sent shivers down Grant’s spine.
“Gentlemen, if you could follow me to your quarters...?” Rossiter asked rhetorically.
Grant and Malcolm followed Rossiter to the entrance of the hotel area. The two were taken into the Hotel Triassica, one of the divisions of the guest accommodation. Before they approached the reception desk, Rossiter stopped at a display stand showing a mounted reptile, raised on its hind legs. It was somewhat crocodilian in shape, though its legs were oriented right under its body. It long back and tail were adorned with spikes and knobbles.
“I’m sure you know what this one is, Dr. Grant?” Rossiter said, pointing at the display.
Grant observed it. “Postosuchus.”
“Exactly. A truly wonderful creature.” Rossiter had his hand placed on the creature’s thigh. “Anyway, moving on to ‘Hotel Jurassica’.”
Hotel Jurassica was more forest-themed, with green walls and various tropical plants. They walked past a mounted two-legged dinosaur that Grant guessed to be Ceratosaurus. Next to the reception was a fish-tank populated with small ammonites.
Rossiter approached the desk. “We have two V.I.P guests for a two day stay.”
“Ah yes, rooms 39 and 43, third floor.” The receptionist handed Rossiter the keys, who then passed them over to Grant and Malcolm.
“Top floor!” he said cheerily.
Rossiter led Grant and Malcolm to the elevator.
“Mr. Rossiter, are we the only ones that have been specially invited?” Grant asked.
“No, we’ve got another palaeontologist, staying in Hotel Cretacea. And a few other guests from the United Kingdom coming over,” Rossiter said.
“Another palaeontologist?” Grant looked curious.
“Oh I forget his name, it was hard tracking him down. But fortunately he came to us.”
“When does the tour start?” Malcolm asked.
“We’ll be opening up to the public this morning, but you’ll be the first to take the tour. For now, take a rest. There’s a bar down on the ground floor; you can relax there and even watch camera feeds from the creature enclosures. Your tour will start at 9:00. It’ll run for an hour and a half, and I’ll see you back here at 10:30.”

These hotel rooms were more like apartments. There was a wash room in the basement, an electrical switch room above Grant’s own room, and a ‘Premier view of the resort’ – at least, that’s what the brochure said. His room was facing the Mussaurus enclosure. The thing that intrigued him the most was the Arthropleurid exhibit. The brochures showed animals that were far larger than known Arthropleurids, and he doubted that undiscovered ones would have been that large. He assumed these BioSyn ones were mutated versions of actual Arthropleurids. It was the same trick that InGen had used on their island: they just added and took away certain things from a regular dragonfly to make it look big. The same could apply for the scorpions. Grant had soon explored the room to heart’s content, and left for the bar.
“Sorry, sir, we only serve brand alcohol that is promoted by BioSyn.” The bartender pointed to a poster advertising ‘Lager Lite’.
“Oh fine…” Grant sighed “I’ll take it. How much?” he looked at the bartender.
“Five dollars.”
“Five… Dollars…?” Grant looked sceptical.
“Yes, for a pint.” The bartender dully looked at him.
“Fine…” Grant handed him the five dollar bill.
He looked over at a T.V. screen. It played Gustav Holst’s ‘Neptune the Mystic’, to a picture montage of all the prehistoric species that inhabited the park. Grant sat down by the window. It was calm.
“I see you finally got settled in.” Malcolm sat in front of him. “So what do you think of the luxury suite?” Malcolm looked outside the window.
“Well, it’s quite alright. Where does your room face?” Grant looked at Malcolm.
“I’m facing the Gorgonopsid enclosure. And I also have a pretty good view of the whip scorpions.” Malcolm smiled slightly, still staring out the window. “I tried looking for this mystery palaeontologist, in Hotel Cretacea. No luck. Although I did see a tour-jeep stop at the gorgonopsids. I don’t know whether it was an actual tour, or they were just getting ready for the opening.”
“Were you able to see the guy?” Grant took a sip of the alcohol.
“No, the jeep was covered up.” Malcolm said.
“We’ll try and rendezvous with him after our tour.” Grant said.
“I’ve been meaning to talk about the tour,” Malcolm said, lowering his voice a little. “Aren’t you a little… nervous about it? I mean, that’s where it all started last time.”
“I know, but, we need to get Rossiter to trust us. It’s the only way we can really find out what’s going on.”
“Mr. Grant and Mr. Malcolm, your vehicle is ready.” A burly man, whom they later learned to be a private military contractor, stood over them expectantly.

Grant hadn’t been feeling well from the moment they had landed at the park. It was a mixture of the humidity of the Everglades, and the frightening nostalgia of the Isla Nublar incident. He didn’t know if he could say the same for Malcolm, who very rarely showed that kind of emotion.
He and Malcolm were sitting in the back of the Land of Time jeep, being driven through the park. The jeep was uncovered, and had a Land of Time logo on the side.
“You’ll be able to see the Dilophosaurus around the opening in the paddock,” the driver said, still looking ahead.
The driver slowed down. Through the fence was a patch of forest with a small reservoir in the middle.
The jeep stopped.
“So you have breeding pairs?” Grant looked at the driver.
“Yes, we do for most of the animals,” he answered. “We have a few breeding projects ongoing.”
Apart from some hooting noises, the Dilophosaurs never revealed themselves.
The driver continued on with the tour.

Howard Rossiter’s personal office was guarded by BioSyn’s own Private Military. Rossiter sat in front of the security cameras, watching the tour jeep on its way. He was fiddling with a pen until someone approached him.
“Howard,” a female voice turned his head.
“Helen, what are you doing here?” Rossiter sat up from the terminal.
“Those people from the ARC that I warned you about have arrived at a hotel in South Beach.”
“Good. Does he have a definite number of how many people they have sent?” Rossiter asked.
“Nine, six of those people will be armed.”
“Oh, perfect…”

An hour passed, and the jeep stopped at what looked like an aviary.
“Here’s the pterosaur aviary,” the driver informed them.
Tall trees blocked most of the view. Grant saw one of the flying reptiles climbing up along the grating of the aviary, squawking. It sent shivers down his spine, as he remembered what happened on Isla Nublar…
They continued on their way. Up ahead was the Mussaurus enclosure on the left and the Gorgonopsid enclosure on the right.
The driver spoke into a walkie-talkie. “Hey, Bob, could you check security camera zero-zero-five? The Gorgonopsids are a no-show again…”
Grant interjected, “Well, I think they weren’t used to frequent rain, or tropical climates for that matter. They might be nervous.”
The driver looked at Grant. Grant shrugged at him.

The jeep stopped outside the hotel. Grant realised the time. Malcolm obviously had too. The two of them rushed into the Jurassica reception.
“What’s the time?” Grant looked at the clock above the reception desk. “10:30…”
Malcolm approached the young red-head woman at reception, “Uh excuse me…” Malcolm looked at her name tag, “…Amelia, uh, hi! Do you have any idea where Mr. Rossiter is? He said after the tour he’d be here at ten thirty, and, well, it’s ten thirty…”
The young woman looked at him perplexed. “Uhm… Uh… Hold on, let me get my manager…” Amelia bolted off to a room behind the desk.
Ten minutes later, Malcolm and Grant were still waiting. Grant had started pacing up and down the hall. Malcolm just sat on a nearby bench, in silence.
Finally, a tall man in keeper’s garb strolled into the reception. He was probably around six foot five, had black hair that had faintly greyed in a few places, and was clean-shaven. He carried a thick Mosin Nagant rifle in his left hand, supported against his shoulder. He focused on Grant, who’d stopped pacing, and approached him. He outstretched his right, rifle-less hand. “Doctor Grant I presume?”
“Yes!” Grant replied, shaking the hand. The keeper’s expression remained still. He seemed somewhat irked about something, though.
Malcolm got up to approach the new arrival. The keeper turned to him. “And you must be Doctor Malcolm.” The keeper swung his hand around towards the chaos scientist. Malcolm shook it. He seemed a little apprehensive. Grant was just glad that they hadn’t been forgotten.
The keeper introduced himself. “I’m Head-Keeper, Gary Campbell. Mister Rossiter isn’t able to come down here for you, so I’m here to take you up to him.”
“Right,” Grant replied. “Good!”

Campbell had parked another Land of Time jeep just outside the hotel, in the parking lot. He drove Grant and Malcolm through the park, staying completely silent. Grant figured that Campbell probably hadn’t liked being taken away from his post on such an important day.
Campbell stopped just outside a large building, with a glass front. There was a large plaza set in front of it. Paths led out from three sides of the plaza into the surrounding trees. Unlit street lamps were positioned at each corner of the square.
Campbell left the car just at the edge of the plaza. He grabbed his rifle and got out. Grant and Malcolm followed. Once they had closed their doors, Campbell locked the car. “This is the management complex,” he told them. He led them across the plaza, and inside. There was a lobby just inside the doors. Campbell walked up to the reception desk, and addressed the short, dark-haired woman just behind the desk. “Is Rossiter ready for Doctors Grant and Malcolm?”
“I’ll just check,” she replied. She lifted the receiver of her phone and dialled in a short number. “Mister Rossiter? Head-Keeper Campbell’s here with Doctor Grant and Doctor Malcolm… Oh, OK.” She put the receiver down. She looked up to Campbell. “He’ll be waiting at the drawing room.”
Campbell thanked her, and nodded to Malcolm and Grant and led them out of the lobby. They went into a wide corridor, and continued on, past several doors, and passing several busy people, before arriving at a pair of dark, wooden doors, fitted opposite each other on either wall. Campbell pointed to the one on the left. “That’s Rossiter’s office.” It had no plate on its surface with anyone’s name, so they took his word for it. Campbell pointed to the other door. “This is the drawing room.” He then pulled down on the handle, and opened the door.
He let the two doctors in before him. In the centre of the room was a long, mahogany table, with twelve chairs positioned around it. The walls were lined with bookcases, cupboards and shelves. At the other end of the room was a large window, and the morning sunlight was cast over the space. There was no one here.
“I’m sorry,” came a voice from the door.
Grant and Malcolm turned around to face Campbell.
“I can’t stay long,” he continued. “Rossiter should be here soon, he’s probably just in his office. Goodbye.” With that, Campbell left.
Grant and Malcolm sat down at the desk, and waited.

Chapter Fourteen

Divine Intervention

It had to happen. They’d been asking for trouble with this park.

The main attraction, the giant, hungry Tyrannosaurus rex broke straight through the fence. The electric wires sparked, and the rex simply flung them off with one swipe of its tail. It let out an earth-shaking roar, and then it looked for its next meal.

It focused on the park keeper, who was loading his rifle with tranquilizer darts. He lifted the gun and, without a moment’s hesitation, fired straight at the rex’s face.

The dinosaur shook its head from side to side, dislodging the dart from its skin. Then, it returned its attention to the keeper.

He fired again, this time missing the now-moving target. Now, he was forced to flee from the behemoth.

He swung the rifle over his shoulder, and sprinted down the road. The carnivore, with its top speed of 25 mph, soon caught up with him. It swung its huge, tooth-filled jaws down at him. In the nick of time, he dodged, narrowly avoiding the 30cm (12 inch) -long teeth (the longest teeth of any carnivorous dinosaur). He dropped to the ground and rolled down the road-side ditch, losing his rifle.

The monsoon-like rains that still fell had created a strong torrent of water and sludge that ran through this ditch. The keeper fell face-first into it. But that was part of his plan.

He rolled over in the sludge, and then shifted back onto his face.

T-rex’s strongest sense was its sense of smell. Hopefully, the mud could mask his distinct, mammalian odour, and the rex wouldn’t pick up his scent.

The leaves of the plants that covered the ditch shifted apart, to reveal the reptilian snout nosing through, sniffing the air.

It could still smell him.

He had only one last shot. If he was quick, he could run to the nearby lodge, along the ditch, where he at least had some protection. It was risky, and the path was slippery, but it was the only chance he had.

He shifted onto his feet, and sprinted away from the rex’s snout.

He could see the lodge. Just a few hundred metres to safety.

Behind him, the rex roared an almighty roar. The scale of the booming sound caused him to lose his balance. He slipped, and landed flat on his back, sliding a few inches further. He gasped with pain.

Suddenly, something tore into his foot. Pain shot up his leg. Then, he felt it pull him. Up, out of the ditch and into the air. Then it swung him straight up.

The last thing he saw was a mouthful of teeth.

Connor woke with a start.

His legs jerked at the bottom of his bed, as if he was still in mid-throw.

He was gasping for air.

After a few seconds, he calmed down. It was a dream.

As if he wasn’t nervous enough.

Connor now regretted falling asleep while watching Dinosaur-Night on the Discovery Channel. All of those facts were still rattling around in his head. So was the CGi realization of the T-Rex. It was quite realistic, and Connor was one of the few people who could truly claim that, having witnessed a live Tyrannosaurus, back in Siberia.

Connor pulled himself out of the hotel bed. He was nervous about the park, but also excited to see it. Admittedly, the weather was probably not going to be on their side, according to the recent weather-forecasts. Strong winds and heavy rain. Not the ideal dinosaur-hunting weather, he thought.

Connor drew back the blinds on his window.

To his amazement and awe, the weather was perfect. Blue skies, just a few clouds – usual Miami weather.

Connor smiled.

He opened the window. It was hotter than yesterday, though the humidity had evened out, from what he could tell.

Connor took a shower. Then, he put on fresh clothes, and reached for his stylish waistcoat. As he pulled it off the coat-stand, something fell out of the pocket.

He reached down to the wooden floor and picked up a stack of small pieces of paper, tied together with an elastic band. He released the band, and took a closer look at the paper.

Oh my God…

Jenny drank from the paper cup of instant coffee. It tasted vile. She was already homesick, if only for the coffee shop down the street from her house.

It was 10:37 am, according to the analogue clock on the wall. She was sitting in the hotel bar, and had filled her cup of ‘coffee’ from a vending machine nearby.

Just 1 hour, 23 minutes to go then. She still hadn’t received any contact from Lester, who was presumably still looking for any way to find tickets.

She decided to get breakfast, or whatever she could find that passed for it.

She got up, dropped the cup in the bin, and walked out of the bar. As she came to the bottom of the stairs, she could hear someone running down them. In fact, it was more than one person.

“Connor! Wait up!” It was Abby’s voice.

Connor bounded down the stairs, three steps at a time, with something in his hand. Abby followed at a less rushed pace.

“Jenny!” Connor exclaimed as soon as he saw her. “You’ll never guess what I’ve just found!”

“Tickets? Just lying in your pocket?”

Hemple was suspicious.

“It’s like I said!” Connor replied. “They were just inside the pocket of my waistcoat! They weren’t there before we got here, I’m sure of it!”

“Connor, that’s not what he’s sceptical about!” Jenny said.

“I trust that you’re telling the truth, Connor,” Hemple explained, “but where did they come from? Are you sure they’re authentic?”

“Yep! I checked the company website before I came down.” Connor took out one of the tickets, and pointed to a barely-visible, gold strip down the paper. “And, when you hold it up to the light, you see a T-rex skull through the paper.”

“Ok then, who did they come from?”

“What about Lester?” Connor turned to Jenny. “Didn’t you say earlier that he promised you that he’d get them to us?”

“It just doesn’t seem right. Why would he sneak them into your pocket?” Jenny pointed out.

“There’s only one way to find out, then, isn’t there?” Abby pointed out.

Jenny sighed and took out her phone, and dialled Lester’s number.

After a few rings, she reached him.

“Lester?”

“Jenny?” Lester’s voice came through on the other end. “I’m a bit busy right now, can’t it wait?”

“Busy with what?”

“I have it under control. Is there something you wanted?”

“Have you secured admission yet?”

“Well, that’s actually posing quite a problem. I assumed that by now, either Butch or Sundance would have figured out a way to break in, or get in by some other very politically-incorrect way that made it harder for me to clean up after you. That’s what they usually do.”

Connor and Abby grinned.

“So it wasn’t you that sent us the tickets?” Jenny asked.

“What tickets?”

“Nine tickets just happened to show up in Connor’s coat-pocket. Any ideas?”

“… He hasn’t stolen them, has he? Whoops, something’s just come up. Speak to you later.”

He hung up before Jenny could reply.

“Brilliant. That helped,” she said.

“Look,” Connor said, “It’s eleven o’clock now, the park opens at twelve, and something inevitably goes wrong by two. Let’s figure out where the tickets came from later, ok? Let’s not question our blessings! Call it divine intervention.”

To Jenny’s surprise, Hemple nodded.

“Ok. Let’s do this!”

While the others were getting ready, and getting armed, Jenny took Hemple to the side.

“What are we doing?” she said, quietly. “We have no idea where these tickets have come from! What if it’s a trap?”

“I know it’s a trap,” Hemple replied.

Jenny raised her eyebrows. “Then what are we doing here?!”

“I’ve contacted Becker. He’s nearly ready to come here. His squad should be over here within 36 hours. We’re going in to find out what the hell is going on in there. What we’re up against. And why these people want us in that park.” He paused. “Why these people want us dead.”

Chapter Fifteen
Armistice Day

Previously…

- While the others were getting ready, and getting armed, Jenny took Hemple to the side.

"What are we doing?" she said, quietly. "We have no idea where these tickets have come from! What if it's a trap?"

"I know it's a trap," Hemple replied.

Jenny raised her eyebrows. "Then what are we doing here?"

"I've contacted Becker. He's nearly ready. His squad should be over here within 36 hours. We're going in to find out what the hell is going on in there. What we're up against. And why these people want us in that park." He paused. "Why these people want us dead." -

The proverb warns that 'You should not bite the hand that feeds you.'
But maybe you should if it prevents you from feeding yourself. – Thomas Szasz

"Are you sure about this?"

Abby looked ready to walk out the door, with her backpack on.

They were all standing outside the hotel, beside the road, beneath the beaming sun. The soldiers were stood behind Hemple, without the heavy weaponry they were used to, instead hiding pistols beneath their civilian clothes, like Hemple. Jenny's attire also gave a sense of readiness to leave, but her face was one of reluctance to be going anywhere.

Hemple, in contrast, looked confident and eager to get going. Connor knew how he felt. They'd spent more than 24 hours just anticipating this amazing park, and now Connor just wanted to get in there and sort things out, to do his job. With a gun. The gun was nice.

Connor was carrying a backpack of various bits and pieces he'd bought in the hotel, including some packed food. His pistol was with the soldiers for now, as was Abby's.

Hemple responded to Abby's question. "Yes. I wouldn't have decided on it if I wasn't absolutely sure it was the best option. We know someone wants us inside. That means that something is going on beneath the perfect, blanketing façade of a scientific project. I think it's time someone lifted that up and looked inside."

"And Becker's coming soon?" Abby asked.

"Yes. He should be here by tomorrow evening. That leaves us plenty of time to find out what's going on, without raising too much fuss. Trust me. This will work."

At 11:34 am they set off. Connor checked his watch every so often to make sure they weren't late. The sun was beaming down. Whoever was in charge of that park couldn't have asked for better weather. 11:35. They decided to walk – and run – through the city instead of getting cabs. The streets were hopelessly jammed with traffic, with thousands of people flocking towards the spectacular park like moths to a neon light. Connor saw angry faces inside most of them. He would have sympathised with them if he didn't know that their chances of surviving the day were probably a lot better outside the park full of the most ferocious and dangerous predators of all time. 11:36. The park was outside the city, so they would be catching the train at Miami's outermost train station, Palmetto. It was about 2 miles from their hotel. 11:37. The train would then bring them to the park's second-closest station. 11:38. The logic in going to the second-closest was to avoid the undoubtedly monumental crowds rushing into the park. 11:39. But why was he rushing? They needn't be there at the grand opening. 11:40. They had their tickets, and as long as they concealed their weapons, they would be granted entry if they got there in half an hour, or four hours' time. 11:41. This was stupid. 11:42. He finally took off the watch and put it in his pocket.

They arrived at the station at 11:57. They'd made good time, but they would miss the grand opening.

Palmetto was unbelievably packed with people. The queues for the ticket offices seemed longer than the train itself. Even though they were going on a different train, they had to use the same ticket office.

Connor lowered his suitcase to the floor and sat on the nearby bench. This was going to take a while.

XXXX

Lester strode into the central arena of the ARC. The place was nearly empty. He looked at his watch. 07:00.

He'd spent the night at the ARC. He'd tried his best to sleep in his office, but had failed miserably. But it didn't matter. A captain never left his ship when pirates were on the horizon.

He had, however, managed to achieve some semblance of rest. Unfortunately, that dozing meant that he had missed most of the activity down below.

Two soldiers appeared from the nearby corridors. They seemed flustered.

"Where's Captain Becker?" Lester asked them.

They seemed unable to answer. Just as they were about to say something, they were interrupted by the ringing alarms from the detector.

"Oh, for God's sake, not again!" Lester shouted from exasperation.

Nigel rushed out again and stopped at the console. He seemed less focussed than yesterday. It seemed that he too had spent the night here.

"Soldier, where is Becker?" Lester repeated.

As if on cue, the doors swung open behind Lester. He turned to see Captain Becker and Doctor Page standing there.

"Have you two only just arrived?" Lester asked.

Nigel spoke up. "It's the film-set again! It's re-opened!"

"OK, we've got it!" Becker volunteered himself and Doctor Page. The two then turned back around and made their escape. Obviously they had a reason not to want to explain themselves.

"Well, just hold on a second!" Lester called, but it was too late. They were already out of earshot.

He turned back to the two soldiers. "OK, what's going on?"

The anomaly was there once again, hovering right where Danny had gone through.

Becker and Sarah, along with several soldiers as back-up, had returned to the film-set. Two of the soldiers were now readying the locker as quickly as they could, in case the portal moved again. The other two were stationed around the opposite side, prepared for any creature incursions.

Sarah whispered to Becker. "So, do you really think it was this anomaly? At Christine's base?"

"Well, we know it didn't close, it moved. And if the main detector at the ARC didn't pick it up, then it must have been masked by something else." He paused, as if remembering something. "A couple of weeks ago, we picked up an anomaly at her base. But then it just disappeared from the main detector, even though the handhelds were still picking up a signal as we got closer. She must have had some kind of cloaking device."

"Which would have covered the anomaly?" Sarah asked.

"Exactly. Jenson," he called, nodding to one of the soldiers at the locking device, "said they haven't picked up any new anomalies since. Also, those giant wolves came from the same era as the Indricothere earlier. I checked Connor's program."

A beam of light shot from the locker and sealed the anomaly. It settled into a floating orb.

"So, what now?" Sarah asked. "Christine probably saw us on the cameras. She might even blame it on us. Who knows, this could be the Sarajevo moment for the ARC. Beginning of war."

"I certainly hope not. Because we already have enough on our plate."

"Yeah, with that park…" Sarah said.

"Yeah, that, and our rescue mission."

…

It was now 3:20 p.m.

After the soldiers explained all they knew about Becker's disappearance, which wasn't much, Lester decided to find the horse's mouth. They were probably ready to return from the filmset by now.

"Hello," Becker answered via his phone.

"Is it locked yet?" Lester asked.

"Yep."

"So, what happened to you two after the traffic lights? That's where Lieutenant Clarke last saw you."

"We got sidetracked. We found the anomaly."

"What? Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Well, we didn't have long to chat. There were some other creatures. But they were taken care of."

"OK, fine. Now, if you're done there, can you please come back? I'm surprised Christine hasn't already made her move."

"Actually, that might not be much of a problem anymore."

"What do you mean?" The phone started to ring again. "Hang on the line for a second, I've got another call." He switched over.

"Lester?" It was Jenny's voice.

Lester never thought he could ever be in this situation, but at the moment, the park full of killer dinosaurs was far down on his long list of worries. "Jenny? I'm a bit busy right now, can't it wait?"

"Busy with what?"

"I have it under control. Is there something you wanted?"

"Have you secured admission yet?"

Lester sighed. He had forgotten about that. "Well, that's actually posing quite a problem. I assumed that by now, either Butch or Sundance would have figured out a way to break in, or get in by some other very politically-incorrect method. That's what they usually do."

"So it wasn't you that sent us the tickets?" Jenny asked.

"What tickets?"

"Nine tickets just happened to show up in Connor's coat-pocket. Any ideas?"

"… He hasn't stolen them, has he?"

Lester heard the ARC doors swing open. That was quick, he thought.

Lester stood up from his office chair, expecting to see some of the soldiers, or possibly Becker. His feeling of relief that the ARC would now be secure at last, was replaced with sheer dread.

It was Christine Johnson, followed by a group of her soldiers. And they were walking up the walkway, to Lester's office. This was not good.

He spoke back into the phone. "Whoops, something's just come up. Speak to you later." He hung up, while still keeping Becker on hold.

Christine entered Lester's office. "James!" she said. She made a crocodile smile.

"Christine!" He struggled to reciprocate.

"Listen, I'd love to chat somewhere else, but I'm having a very busy day." Her guards stood menacingly outside the door. ARC soldiers were already assembling behind them, in case things got ugly. "I just need a quick word."

"Well, Christine, I'm very, very busy, what with the latest international threat to our country. So it shall certainly have to be a quick word."

"There's been a bit of a situation at my complex. And a car that was registered to the ARC was found a parked near there during the time of this… incident. I was just wondering what your men were doing there around midnight?"

"Excuse me? I'm afraid you have to be mistaken, Christine. My men are either here, in America, or dealing with an anomaly in London. Our men have been nowhere near your base in weeks."

"Are you absolutely sure? After all, you can't be totally sure."

"Of course I can."

Their proverbial game of chess had ended on something of a stalemate.

"OK then. Well, I guess it was just a misunderstanding, then! I'm afraid we have to go now, but we'll be in touch!"

"You know where to find me."

"As always."

With that, she and her soldiers left.

Once they had left the ARC, Lester turned back to his phone. He took it off hold.

"Becker, what the hell have you done?"

Becker barely had ten minutes to rest after that phone-call. Lester was sceptical about the rescue plan, but he seemed to be leaning in favour of allowing it. All they needed now was a message from America. Lester didn't say exactly who they were waiting for, but once the person rang, the rescue-mission would go ahead.

Chapter Sixteen
Capture

Before the actual meeting with Rossiter, Doctors Malcolm and Grant were presented with a flashy presentation that covered the history of Biosyn and the inception of Everglades Land of Time. After an hour had passed, Grant looked at his watch. Half eleven… God damn it. The park was due to open in just half an hour’s time.

The last slide showed a panoramic view of the whole of Land of Time, with the same music that Grant had heard at the bar in the hotel: ‘Neptune, the Mystic’. The screen turned black, and for a moment the meeting room was in darkness. Then the lights turned on.

Rossiter finally emerged from behind the screen. He must have come in at some point during the presentation. “I understand that you two are quite tired, but I’d just like your opinions, Grant, if you could go first?” Rossiter paced over to stand at the front of the long meeting room table.

Grant rubbed his eyes, “Oh… Well…” he sighed “I’d just like to know… Why on the mainland?”

“It’s simple, really. Here, the park is most easily accessible by the general public. And to protect against the hazards that may arise in such a situation as this, we have the best security money can buy. I believe Mister Ingram filled you in on some of those. And may I add the Everglades is mostly swamp or grass land, and quite far away from dense human habitation.”

“But how can you say that? You’re right beside Miami!” Malcolm sighed, and didn’t wait for an answer. He lowered his tone. “Okay… Look, I’m just going to tell you straight…” Malcolm looked Rossiter dead in the eye. “I’m tired of trying to put sense into people who have none. This place is going to go to hell, I just know it.”

“Really…” Rossiter leaned forward.

“You put no thought into the consequences of building a theme park that houses dangerous animals in a tropical environment. What the hell where you thinking?”

“Well—.”

“I’m not done. You took no consideration of the ecology of the species. Mammoths would be driven insane by the humidity of the location. Their distress is evident from the calls they make. These calls are what cause the other animals to respond in what your presentation claims to be the ‘harmonious sounds of prehistoric life’. I seriously doubt any thought you put into this. And what about that damn mystery creature? What the hell was the thinking that went into that?!” Malcolm stopped abruptly.

“Grant, surely you—.”

“Mr. Rossiter… The species you have here are… phenomenal, but I have to agree with Malcolm. I seriously don’t think you have put any thought into this… But… I think I really need to dwell upon this. Give me time. If that’s okay with you?”

Rossiter sighed. “I have to be honest with you. I’d thought that you were already persuaded. Ingram said that he’d convinced you so quickly that the helicopter turbines were barely cold.”

“He never convinced us of anything,” Malcolm interrupted. “We were planning on coming here anyway. To stop all this. That was our intention.”

Rossiter seemed totally taken aback. He then turned back to Grant. “I can give you time to dwell on it. That would be perfectly fine.”

XXXX

“Well… That could have gone better.” Grant stretched his arms. He and Malcolm started walking down the hall, away from the meeting room. They emerged at the lobby area again. “Shall we see if we can get a hold of that other palaeontologist?” Grant suggested. “If we were brought here early, surely he would have been too.”

Hotel Cretacea was grander than Triassica or Jurassica. Its featured statue was a large pterosaur, perhaps Pteranodon, suspended above a Tyrannosaurus. It was posed in a defence position, with its hatchlings behind it.

Nobody was at the check-in desk. Malcolm looked at his watch. “The opening is in fifteen minutes.” He looked around the building. “Surely the staff should be getting ready for the visitors?”

Malcolm looked beyond the desk. Behind it was a security camera feed on four mounted television screens. One showed the main entrance into the hotel. The second showed the fire escape at the stairwell. The third showed inside the reception. And the last feed showed the exit from the kitchen. No one was to be seen.

Grant shrugged. “So… What are we going to do?”

“We have V.I.P passes…” posited Malcolm, “so we can go anywhere. Well almost anywhere...” Malcolm observed the camera feed. “We’ll look around the kitchen. Then I’ll take the stairwell and you take the accommodation floors.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this…” Grant mumbled.

The kitchen was warm and had a sickening, greasy smell to it. Malcolm decided that the staff were probably on a short break before the opening rush. Malcolm stepped through another door, and ended up outside, in a small clearing, surrounded by chain-link fencing, and beyond that, dense forest. Here was one of the staff, a rotund middle aged woman, smoking a cigarette.

She looked up, surprised to see him. Then that turned to agitation. “Read the sign. Kitchen staff only.” She had a typical Florida accent. She took another puff, and looked into the forest.

“Sorry, but…” Her deformed right hand caught his attention. “I don’t mean to be intrusive, but… I’m going to take a wild guess and say that you didn’t have that before you came here.”

“Damn right!” She suddenly seemed very interested in Malcolm’s conversation, and let the cigarette lie in her hand. “And because of that damn contract I signed, I can’t sue them!” She turned red.

“How specifically did you get it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“One of those green chicken things came into the kitchen. I found it eating the food I’d set for a meeting. I tried to brush it away – we’re not allowed to hurt any of the things, you know – but the little bastard bit me on my hand.”

“The creature got out of its cage?” Malcolm asked.

The woman turned redder. “Don’t tell anyone I said that. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Malcolm wanted desperately to press further into this exchange, but figured that he wasn’t going to get anything more out of her. He decided to leave it at that.

Back in the reception, Grant and Malcolm viewed the Tyrannosaurus display. It looked rather unique, somehow.

Grant looked up at the clock. “The park’s about to open. The guests are about to get here.”

“It’ll be almost impossible to find that palaeontologist in the crowd,” Malcolm replied. “I think we’ve missed our chance.” Malcolm paced to the centre of the room. “I’m going to my room. We’ll need some sleep to figure out what we’re going to do next. And heck, maybe by the time we get back, the receptionist will be here, and we can ask them who this palaeontologist is…”

“I think I’ll take a walk around the park,” Grant told him. “Get some fresh air.”

Malcolm looked at Grant. “Are you thinking of endorsing this?” He didn’t seem all that surprised.

“I’m kind of stuck on the fence here.”

Malcolm smiled and shook his head. “I’ll see you later, friend.” Malcolm walked off towards the lifts. Grant smiled back and walked to the exit of the hotel.

Grant pushed open the doors. Light beamed into his eyes. The first half of the day had been so dark, his eyes weren’t used to the bright light. He could hear the visitors making their way towards the lodge. He decided to make himself scarce before the crowds arrived.

He walked around the back of the hotel, and found himself at the top of a rise, looking out upon the beauty of the park. And it was beautiful.

It was a good thing that it was so beautiful, because it was the last image Grant would remember.

And before he had the chance to react, all went dark again.

Chapter Seventeen
Without a Hitch

The great masses of the people ... will more easily fall victims to a big lie than to a small one. – Adolf Hitler

Howard Rossiter stood in front of the mirror and adjusted his tie.

Today was the big day. Five years of meticulous planning – and two whole careers of hard work and leadership – had led to this moment, this day, this… arrival!

BioSyn had finally arrived at the forefront of science. His father may have been apprehensive about the project, but he must have known that this was ultimately for the good of the company. And that wasn’t even the big picture! That was the tiny, barely visible small picture that comes along with the big picture. The big picture was bigger than Jurassic Park, bigger than InGen, bigger than John Hammond.

Howard made a mental note to find some way to include that in his speech.

He heard a knock on his dressing-room door.

“Come in!” he said, cheerfully.

His secretary, Patricia, poked her head in and whispered, “You’re on in five minutes. Nearly ready?”

Howard looked over at the clock. He’d forgotten to keep track of time.

“Right… I’ll be just a second.” He made some last-minute touches to his hair – he combed it and shook his head to make the hair seem naturally straight and unlined – and followed her out the door.

“Have you got your speech ready, Howard?” the secretary asked.

“Oh, cripes…” he exclaimed, and rushed back to the dressing-room, to take the still-warm sheet out of the printer, fold it up and slot it into his pocket.

This time, he ran through a mental list of all the things he needed. He checked them all off, one-by-one. Nothing was going to go wrong today.

Howard stood away from the cameras, away from the film crews, away from the hysterical crowds. He held his finished speech in his hands. The Times New Roman Size-12 font was intercut with blue biro where he made adjustments and amendments to the script. Some bits were edited, others removed altogether, and in the middle there was a brand new paragraph, written entirely along the right margin, and an arrow pointing to the appropriate space in between the second and third pre-existing paragraphs. Then he shook his head and scribbled the whole extra paragraph out. It made the speech way too long.

The time had come. As the clock struck 12:00 exactly, the orchestra started to play a newly-composed tune for this event. The music swelled Howard’s confidence. With one deep breath, he stepped out into the open. The crowd cheered at his entrance. He quickly stepped in front of the podium and laid his speech down in front of him.

He looked across the massive crowd. He knew that the vast majority of them would not be getting in. If they could, the massive crowd would trample the park and scare the animals, it would ruin the experience. Still, he was encouraged by the colourful banners they were holding high over their heads, pictures of long-necked sauropods and purple tyrannosaurs.

He adjusted the microphone. As he nodded with satisfaction, it was turned on. He glanced over to the conductor of the orchestra, who silenced the players. As he cleared his throat, some of the cheerers lowered their voices, but the majority continued to portray their excitement. Howard started his speech regardless, hoping that that would attract their attention.

“Thirty years ago…” he began. The din continued. He raised his voice. “THIRTY YEARS AGO!” This time the crowd quietened.

Howard regained his composure. “Good afternoon, everybody. My name is Howard Rossiter, and I am the CEO of BioSyn, a genetics company. Thirty years ago, the company InGen, led by John Hammond, made an amazing breakthrough. They discovered the secret to bringing dinosaurs and other prehistoric creatures back to life. At the time, he restricted his research to dinosaurs and pterosaurs, whose blood had been preserved in the bellies of mosquitoes trapped in amber. Using the DNA of modern-day animals to fill in gaps in their genetic code – the blueprint to creating an animal – they brought these amazing and beautiful creatures back from the dead into the twentieth century.

“However, Hammond’s idea was incomplete, and his creations imperfect. A genetic condition in the cloned animals caused them to be unhealthy. Before he could show his dream to the world, Hammond’s project fell into disarray, and after his tragic death it was abandoned altogether. But now, in the twenty-first century, my company, BioSyn, has carried on InGen’s work.

“After five years of research, our scientists have perfected Hammond’s work. The genetic condition which plagued InGen’s dinosaurs has been cured. Now, we have built a world-class park, here, in the Florida Everglades. Housed within it are not just dinosaurs, but creatures from the whole of Earth’s amazing and enthralling history. As you may have heard, there are woolly mammoths and sabre-tooth cats, but also massive centipedes bigger than a man, real sea-serpents, and of course every kind of dinosaur you can imagine!”

The crowd gave a loud cheer. He was getting the hang of this.

“We hope to educate you on the weird and wonderful ways of these magnificent creatures while you admire them on your way through the park. And, we also have something very, very special for you along the way. But that’s a surprise! Now, before you go in, please do remember to give these amazing animals the respect they deserve. The guides will let you know how to deal with each different creature. But now, it’s the time you’ve all been waiting for!” The crowd started to cheer again in anticipation. “Without further ado, I declare Everglades Land of Time open!”

He withdrew the pair of scissors from his coat pocket and, to the cheers of the assembled crowd, he cut the green ribbon. He turned to the crowd, smiled, and gave one small wave.

As he turned back to return to his makeshift dressing room in the lodge, he breathed a sigh of relief. It had gone off perfectly. There was not a single bad omen, and all was well. The security were now sorting the masses for those bearing tickets, underneath the suitably grandiose banner: ‘WHEN DINOSAURS RULED THE EARTH’.
XXXX

The second-closest train was still packed with people. It finally reached the second-closest station at 1:30. As the doors opened, a flood of people spilled out. Connor had to hang onto one of the poles to avoid getting sucked out with the current.

He felt someone grab his arm, and pull him out.

“Nooooo!” he shouted, before landing on the platform in front of Hemple. The soldier pulled him off the ground.

Hemple smiled. “Are you ok?”

“Uh, fine!” Connor replied, dusting himself off.

“Good,” Hemple replied. “Then let’s go. We’re late enough as it is.” He picked up his backpack, slung it over his back, and turned to walk off through the crowd. His soldiers followed in a perfect march, followed by Jenny and Abby. Connor psyched himself up for the job ahead, picked up his own backpack, and followed them through the masses.

They were all travelling light. Hemple, Abby and Connor were all carrying backpacks of supplies, in case it should come to that, and Jenny was carrying nothing but her handbag. Hemple and the soldiers were carrying the eight guns they had been allowed to take with them. Three Sig Sauers, three desert eagles and two trank pistols for him and Abby. They were hoping desperately that in all of the commotion, the security would not bother checking them for anything they were hiding beyond what they were carrying in their backpacks.

The station was just a few miles from the park, but they would have to walk there.

They walked along the left side of a highway, where chain link fence separated the pathway from open farmland. On the other side of the road, however, chain link created a barrier to dense forest. As Connor peered into it, he could see a second set of fencing not too far in. This looked different. It was a set of horizontal steel wires suspended between tall, metal stakes in the ground. On top of each stake was a flashing yellow light.

Just as he was trying to get a closer look, a distant bellow diverted his attention. The rest of the convoy stopped and looked towards the source, along with the few other pedestrians along the roadside. It had come from the forest, beyond the fence. The other pedestrians hastened their step towards the park. Hemple did likewise, and the others followed.

They walked quite fast, and made it to the park within the hour. The entrance was down a second road, splitting off from the left of the main road. It was surrounded by people. Some were standing together talking, others were camped out in sleeping bags. They must be waiting for the next tickets to come out, Connor thought.

Now, Jenny took the lead and marched up to the security gates. The muscley security guard looked like the first person they’d seen all day who wasn’t particularly excited about the park.

He held up his hand as they approached. “Only ticket-bearers get in,” he warned them in a southern-states drawl.

Jenny held up her ticket. He seemed unimpressed. He took it from her hand and checked its authenticity. After a few seconds, his expression changed to one of surprise. “This is the first real ticket I’ve seen since noon,” he said. “What about the rest of you?” The other eight of them handed in their tickets and he checked them each individually. He turned to the man sat asleep in the security box. “Mike!” The man woke up. “We have our last nine tickets, at last. That’s all one hundred collected. You got that?”

Mike took the nine tickets, and looked them over. “The serial numbers say…” he looked through them. “They were all issued to the Wal-mart in Vamo. You from there?”

“Just passing through,” Jenny said.

Mike seemed taken aback by her distinctly un-American accent.

“Are we done?” Hemple asked.

“I just have to take a look at your backpacks,” the security guard said. Hemple, Abby and Connor handed over their bags. Each one was unzipped, checked through, re-zipped and returned. He finally turned around and opened the gate to allow them through.

Once they were out of earshot, Connor leaned to Abby and whispered, “That were close, weren’t it?”

Abby ignored him and walked over to Hemple. “Can I have my gun back now?” They walked onto a particularly shaded part of the track where they were sure there were no cameras. Hemple took the tranquilizer pistol and ammo out from underneath his coat and handed them to her. She concealed them under her coat. “Thank you.”

Connor looked over at him expectantly. He sighed and nodded to one of the soldiers. Mason passed Connor his gun and ammo.

“Remember,” Hemple whispered, “It only comes out in an emergency. Otherwise, it stays hidden. Understood?”

Connor nodded, put it under his waistcoat, and the group set off again.

They were walking along a concrete path, wide enough for a car. Connor expected to see a carpark down the road. The path was surrounded by dense forest on either side. There was chain-link fencing here too, but it looked like that was only to stop people going off the track and getting lost. The enclosures must be further in. The path led straight into the Everglades. In the far distance, they could see the forest stretching out over the whole valley. Connor thought he saw one of the bigger trees moving. It took him a moment to realise what it really was. He smiled in spite of himself.

They made their way along the track as it dropped down to the valley floor. They now came to the first complex. It was vast. In front of them was a bright, verdant garden, with a concrete path running through the middle. It led up to the first building. It was a two-storey wooden construction with a thatched roof, and a sign above the door that read: ‘Visitor Information Centre’. A balcony on the second floor linked to a second, larger wooden structure, which looked like a dormitory complex. It was too big to accommodate just staff, so it seemed to make sense that the park might offer the option of a two-day stay for the visitors.

Alongside the garden was a carpark as Connor predicted, with two unoccupied landrovers with the park’s logo on them. There were also three other cars – a silver Porsche, a blue Audi and a blue mini Cooper, not unlike Abby’s. All were unoccupied.

There were various other buildings in this visitor centre complex; a few concrete, but most wooden.

They decided to go into the information centre first. Inside, there was a shop full of books and DVDs on the subject of prehistoric life. There was a rack that was nearly empty, but still held a few leaflets. Connor picked one out and looked through it. It contained a lot of information about the park. He flicked through the first half quickly, which contained information about BioSyn and the park’s creation. None of it mentioned anomalies, so Connor guessed it was probably all false. In the middle two pages, there was a map of the park.

Connor’s jaw dropped as he saw just how big the park was.

“Whoah…” He then looked on the next page, where there were the first few entries in a list of most of the park’s creatures, each with an accompanying picture. “This is bad!” The others were looking into their own leaflets, while Abby was looking into Connor’s. There were more than thirty different prehistoric species, ranging from Arthropleura to Tylosaurus and – as if they hadn’t guessed already – the main attraction, T-Rex.

“Becker better get here soon,” Hemple said.

A man finally emerged from a room behind the counter. “Hello!” he said cheerfully. He was young, about Connor’s age, and had short blonde hair. “Well, you’ve missed the midday rush! Welcome to Everglades Land of Time! My name is Brian, and this is the information centre. I see you’ve already picked up leaflets. Our keepers are guiding other tour groups, and I’m afraid all of them are away at the moment. You can stay in the lounge over here,” he pointed to an open door to his left, “or, if you wish, you can go ahead and make your own route through the park. But the guides are very good at what they do, and it’s worth waiting until they get back for the full experience. And for a very small extra fee, you can stay in our spare rooms in the dormitory complex over night.”

“Actually, I think we’ll be just fine by ourselves, thanks,” Jenny replied.

“OK. Well, have fun!” Brian replied.

As the others left the information centre, Connor picked up a pair of binoculars from one of the stands. “Just this, please!” he handed Brian five dollars for it, and waved goodbye before Abby pulled him along.

“So, where to first?” Jenny asked Hemple as she looked at the map.

“I was thinking here,” Hemple replied, pointing to the top of the map. “Specifically, this enclosure,” he said, pointing to a box with the name ‘T-Rex paddock’. “Seems like the area of most interest. Along the way, we can check out some of the other enclosures. Sound good?”

Jenny nodded. They made their way along the track, out of the courtyard, and towards their first enclosure.

Chapter Eighteen

Pride before the Fall

Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. – Proverbs 16:18

Connor was nervous. It felt as if they’d already waited a lifetime to get here, and jumped through a million hoops. Now, they could finally do their job.

He decided not to look any further through the Land of Time leaflet. He didn’t want to spoil the surprise of what was in store.

After leaving the visitor-centre, they walked onto the left side of a double-pathway. According to the map, these double-pathways snaked around all of the enclosures. This wasn’t strictly the quickest way of getting to the Tyrannosaurus enclosure, but they weren’t in too much of a rush. It wasn’t long before they came to their first enclosure. It was some time before they realized it was an enclosure, and not just more of the dinosaur-free forest they’d seen before.

They walked up to a wooden information post stuck in the ground. It read “Dilophosaurus wetherilli”. However, they could see nothing inside.

“Guess they’re shy,” Connor said.

Connor looked to his right, away from the Dilophosaur enclosure. There was a sign at the edge of the path. It said ‘WARNING! Sentry turret. Avoid when in use!’ To the left of the sign was a small security camera, and to the left of the camera, on the ground, there seemed to be some kind of metallic hatch. Unlike the regular cameras , the lights on the turret's camera were not shining. Did this mean it was turned off? And if so, then why?

A deafening roar sounded from deep within the park. The sound brought back terrible memories of Siberia. It was unmistakably tyrannosaurian.

“Come on!” Hemple called to the others, before leading a charge to the source of the roar. He was swiftly followed by his squad, Abby and Jenny. Connor jogged after them to keep pace.

They came past several other enclosures, but didn’t stop to look inside.

They finally reached the T-Rex paddock. This was the most heavy-duty of all the enclosures they’d been past. A twenty-foot tall electrified fence like the one Connor had seen earlier surrounded the massive enclosure, with a set of chain-link fencing a few feet in front of that, probably to avoid people-electrocutions. The path was raised above the ground of the enclosure, so they could see across the whole of it. It consisted of equal parts forest and grass. The open area they could see was about ten square miles, and there could be more beyond the trees. However, there were no tyrannosaurs to be seen inside.

For the first time since entering the park, they encountered another group of visitors. A tall, brown-haired tour guide in khaki clothing and a sunhat was leading a group of about fifteen people, including the blonde woman Connor had seen on the plane. He was talking over the many amazing features of a T-rex.

Hemple was looking through the fence. “Connor, could I have your binoculars?” he asked. Connor gave them over to him, and the soldier started to search the paddock for signs of life.

Connor walked over to the guide. “Excuse me, we heard… uh… something, coming from this enclosure. Is everything OK?”

The guide turned around to Connor. His name-patch said ‘Harris’. He looked slightly miffed that he had been interrupted mid-lecture. “Yes, sir, everything is fine. Of course,” he turned back to the other visitors, a wide, slightly unconvincing smile returning to his features, “the rexes never come close to the fence!”

“Rexes?” Connor repeated. “As in more than one?”

“There!” Hemple exclaimed, pointing to the edge of the forest, about thirty yards away from the fence.

Connor turned around to see the distant figure of Tyrannosaurus rex come lumbering out from the trees, the ground shaking with each footfall. It must have been standing at the treeline for some time, as they hadn’t heard it coming. It was huge, the same size as the so-called Baba Yaga they had encountered in Russia, which made it a female.

It looked over at the assembled people, who were now staring straight at it in awe. It opened its massive jaws and gave an almighty roar in their direction. Some of the visitors screamed, others cheered. However, the dinosaur seemed to shun the attention, and returned to the trees. Perhaps it was used to people not posing a threat to it, but not being a source of food either. Or perhaps it just naturally avoided the electric fence. In fact, the latter was probably more likely.

“Hemple,” Connor whispered to the soldier. “There’s more than one in there!”

“Yeah, they’re being a bit cocky there…” Hemple replied.

A sinking feeling came over Connor. Two Tyrannosaurs, maybe more. This was not going to end well.

XXXX

“So, the storm has dissipated completely? Good. Thank you.” Rossiter replaced the phone.

Sat in his grand, hexagonal office, he overlooked the video feeds from the security cameras placed throughout the park. One of the tyrannosaurs was now out in the open, in full view of the visitors. It stood still for a minute, roared at the visitors, then returned to the trees.

The other sides of Howard’s office featured several bookcases, each of which carried many pages of reference for paleontology, zoology, botany and cooking. Howard liked to keep himself busy.

The video feeds were all mounted to the left of Howard’s mahogany desk, which was sat in the centre of the room. Howard’s desk faced the door, and to its right was a grand, 120-inch plasma television screen.

And it was due to be used.

Howard checked his watch, made sure he was connected and, on 2:30pm precisely, switched on the screen.

A large pinewood desk appeared on the other end, with twenty of the shareholders sitting around it.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Rossiter,” said the one at the head of the desk, directly opposite Howard. He was a white-haired man in his fifties, called Braxton. “How is the opening day going?”

“Very well, Mr. Braxton,” Howard replied. “Perfect weather. We couldn’t have asked for better conditions! How are things in New York?”

“Any problems at all?” Braxton asked.

“No. Well, there is a slight problem…”

XXXX

Another enclosure interested Hemple in particular; one entitled “MYSTERY CREATURE!” Connor wondered what else this park could possibly be hiding up their sleeves.

This enclosure was located south of the T-Rex paddock, according to the map. Along the way, they should pass several other enclosures.

This time, they were more relaxed, and stopped to look at some of the enclosures. Most of the enclosures seemed empty, although their inhabitants were probably just out of view.

The first eventful enclosure was an open meadow, full of long grass, and only a few trees. Connor didn’t need the binoculars to see its inhabitants. Striding through the grass, about ten yards from the fence, was a nine-foot-tall bird. It was called Kelenken gullermoi. It was staring at their small group. Connor used the binoculars to get a better look at it. The sight of it sent shivers down his spine, especially its long, hooked beak.

It raised its massive head and crowed out. Almost immediately, another two birds emerged from the darkness beneath a tree and ran over to join it. They had very long, slender legs, allowing them to run at high speeds. Their tiny wings were useless.

As the other two Kelenken arrived, they looked over to the group of strange mammals. They looked hungry. However, they, like the T-rex, were unwilling to come close to the fence, which was just as tall and electrified as at the tyrannosaur paddock.

The next enclosure was home to a friendlier kind of animal, the woolly mammoth.

It was encompassed by a six-foot tall concrete wall, which was a refreshing change. Part of the path was raised again, to allow them to see in.

This enclosure was larger than the last one, and it too was primarily grass. It was inhabited by a herd of Woolly Mammoths. The herd contained six females and one massive bull, identifiable by his impending, spiral-shaped tusks. They were grazing in the open, and seemed indifferent to the presence of humans.

Though it was nice to finally see them for the first time, Connor couldn’t help feeling sorry for them. They were held in a wide, open paddock, which seemed to suit them well enough, but the climate was just entirely wrong for them. They looked as if they were all horribly overheated.

Abby couldn’t take her eyes off them. “Those poor things. How could these people even think of keeping them here? The temperature’s all wrong.”

Hemple eventually got her to keep moving. “When we sort this place out, we can put them back where they belong. OK?”

Abby nodded.

XXXX

“So, you see, the mammoths are not thriving in this environment. Their condition may upset the guests…”

“Well, Mr. Rossiter…” said Braxton.

“Please, call me Howard!”

“Mr. Rossiter! We, the shareholders of Land of Time Ltd, do not intend to invest any further into the project until we are paid agreed dividends.”

“Well, that can be arranged, and then?”

“We shall see. The mammoths’ wellbeing doesn’t currently threaten the guests, does it?”

“Well, no, but…”

“Good. Then notify us when and if the situation changes.” And with that, the video link-up ended.

Howard sighed and sat back down on his chair. Of course, the shareholders were unlikely to be that concerned about the animals. At least they’ve funded the park’s research on…

Howard’s thoughts were interrupted as a small, feathered dinosaur landed on his desk. It was a Microraptor, a four-winged dinosaur from the early Cretaceous period. It looked up at him.

“Do you want a grub, Jeff?” Howard opened one of the drawers in his desk and pulled out a box of grubs, and gave one to the dinosaur. And with that, Jeff returned to his perch, high atop the nearest bookcase.

Howard returned the box of grubs, and looked back at the various camera feeds. One of the tour groups had reached the so-called mystery enclosure. Howard took a deep breath, and watched to see how they would react to the park’s most controversial creature...

XXXX

The ARC team continued to walk on. They came upon another small, forest enclosure. It was surrounded by non-electrified, chain-link fencing, so they could get closer. An information post outside read “Psittacosaurus”. It was described as a small dinosaur, whose tail was covered in porcupine-like quills. But, as the sign read, they were ‘completely harmless plant-eaters’. One came waddling out from the forest on its two legs and looked at the strange animals through the fence. It looked a lot like a parrot, with its big head and sharp beak. It hissed at them, and then quickly shuffled back into the undergrowth.

After that unexciting encounter, Connor turned his attention back to the map. The mystery enclosure was just down the path from this one.

Along the way towards it, they once again found themselves surrounded by thick foliage on either side.

They came to another pathway, which went up to the right from the original path. According to the map, this was the way up to the mystery enclosure. Through the treetops they could see electric fencing, surrounding a second, inner layer of fence. Whatever was in the enclosure, the owners of the park clearly did not want it to get out. On the outer fence was a sturdy-looking steel gate, reinforced with thick concrete. Through this gate lay a narrow path for visitors, only a few feet wide.

They went up the narrow road to this enclosure. They came to a wide viewing area. The female tour guide was informing the visitors about the creatures inside.

“This mysterious creature is found in tropical rainforests of North America, where it is the top predator. Our research suggests that they originate from an area where South Carolina is today."

“Err, what’s it called?” asked Connor.

“Well, it’s a newly discovered species, sir. It hasn’t been officially named yet.”

“Oh,” Connor replied. Hemple, Jenny, Abby and the soldiers all looked through the fence into the enclosure, looking for this creature. Connor decided to look over at the sign, similar to the one for the Psittaco. The tour guide continued.

“Despite how it looks, this creature is not a reptile, it is a mammal,” she informed the tourists. Connor looked at the information panel. And his jaw dropped. “Using state-of-the-art genetic technology,” the guide said, “BioSyn have successfully predicted the future evolution of modern animals!”

“Oh, God…”

He looked down at the picture of the park’s mystery animal, and a terrible, hairless, skull-like face looked up at him.

They’d bred future predators.

Chapter Nineteen

The Best-Laid Plans of Mice and Men

The best-laid plans of mice and men go oft awry. – Robert Burns

Lester sat at his desk, impatiently fidgeting. He was waiting for a call from Jenny, Hemple, Abby or Connor. Nothing thus far. They’ve probably got themselves lost in Florida, he thought. Admittedly, it was seemingly impossible to get lost when the only way into the park was through a highway, right turn onto a second path, and pass through a security checkpoint. Hell, the website had even been recently updated to show a map of where to go.

He was alone in his office. Becker was standing just outside, talking to one of the soldiers.

Just relax... They’ve probably split off from the tour group, he told himself. Still, he was contemplating the worst, a blown cover.

The phone rang.

Becker turned towards the office at the sound of the ring. Through the glass, Lester gestured to Becker to come over. As Becker opened the door and entered the office, Lester answered, and turned on the loudspeaker.

“Hello?”

“Lester?” Jenny’s voice came through the phone clearly. Her tone was grave. Lester set himself up for bad news.

“Yes?”

“This is slightly worse than we thought it was.”

“What could possibly be worse than that?”

“They have future predators.”

Lester’s face went blank. Becker shared his expression.

“How… But… I mean… What?!” Lester was mentally kicking himself. Of course! How could he not have considered this possibility? He was so wrapped up in Christine’s possible attack, he hadn’t even given the new threat much thought.

Jenny spoke again. “Well, Lester, I think we were all considering the possibility. After all, they have control of the anomalies.”

“Yes, of course. How is the enclosure? How long do you think it can hold them?”

“I don’t know… Hang on…”

“Well,” Connor’s voice was now on the other end, “it’s fairly heavy. There’s steel bars, and electrified fencing. But they are smart. And their echolocation might even be able to pick up the electric current, and see where it’s weakest. We kinda really need some backup.”

“OK. I need to pull a few strings first, but I’ll send over most of the rest of the soldiers as soon as I can.”

“OK.” The phone had been passed back to Jenny. “Thanks.” She hung up.

“So…” said Becker, “how long are the strings this time?”

“Long.”

“OK, so where to now?”

Connor was leaning against a wooden post. The team had all been asked to leave the future-predator enclosure, as they were ‘scaring the guests’.

Jenny was standing alongside Hemple.

“Well, now we hold the fort,” Hemple explained. “But it might be useful to the operation if we snoop around a bit.”

“OK,” Connor took out the map, “I’m quite interested in this one.”

Hemple took a look at the map. “Ah. Alright, that seems like a good place to check out.”

Jenny looked over at the same map. She immediately understood where they were going next.

The enclosure was inside dense forest. There were several layers of high, electrified, steel fencing to keep the inhabitants inside.

They climbed a steel staircase to reach a raised, metal viewing platform. This brought them above the level of most of the trees.

Another visitor was already here. He was wearing a Land of Time cap, and sunglasses. He was gazing down on the forested enclosure.

Jenny and Connor did likewise. She couldn’t see anything moving, save for the small palm-trees blowing in the wind.

Then, one of the trees moved out of time and direction with the rest.

After a moment’s gap, its movement was mimicked by one beside it.

Then another, in the same direction.

Something was moving down there.

This seemed to have picked up the attention of the solitary man, too. He looked at where the movement had been.

Then, nothing.

Jenny breathed again.

A cry erupted from the centre of where the movement had been.

Almost immediately, the ‘something’ was joined by two more somethings, each disturbing trees as they ran towards the source of the call.

There was a pole-mounted set of binoculars on the viewing platform. Jenny took hold of it.

Zooming in, she caught a glimpse of a scaly, reptilian head.

These three raptors were part of a larger pack of ten. The information panel told of their hunting behaviour, and their surprising intelligence level, previously unheard of in the fossil record.

“They have no feathers,” Connor remarked. He was looking through his pair of binoculars, from the visitor centre. “They… they look so weird without them… still familiar, though…” He, like Jenny, had seen raptors before. Jenny had seen them in Leek’s anomaly zoo. Those ones were covered in feathers. Or at least raggedy scales. The raptors in this enclosure were completely bare. “And they seem so intelligent,” Connor said.

Jenny noticed what he meant. Their general behaviour, down there, reminded her more of wolves or lions, than dinosaurs.

“Good afternoon, guests!”

Jenny turned around to see Brian, the receptionist from earlier, climbing the staircase to the viewing platform. When he reached the top, he started his cheerful speech.

“You may remember me from earlier today. I’m Brian, and I’ve come all this way to tell you that you’ve been cordially invited to a meeting with the park’s father and curator, Howard Rossiter! So, I’m afraid I’m going to have to tear you away from our raptors and take you to the rendez-vous at the park restaurant.”

“Did he say why he wanted to see us?” Jenny asked.

“Not really, I’m afraid. Mr. Rossiter has always believed in personally running every aspect of the park, and that includes getting to know its guests.”

“OK, where is he?”

Brian led them down from the viewing platform, and along the pathway. As the convoy walked onwards, Connor noticed that the man with shades was following behind them. He was acting strangely, barely noticing the information panels along the path. Connor kept glancing back to see if he was still there. He always was.

Connor caught up with Jenny and whispered to her, “that man is following us.”

Jenny looked back at Shades. “Isn’t that the man who was at the raptor enclosure?”

Connor was going to answer, but then he noticed that Brian had stopped. He then noticed where he had stopped.

They had arrived at a large wooden structure, situated at an open clearing among the trees. There were tables and chairs in and around it. At the front door to this building, a tall, black-haired man was standing with open arms.

“Welcome to the Land of Time restaurant, ladies and gentlemen! I shall be your host, Howard Rossiter. I would like to welcome you to lunch here.”

XXXX

Christine’s base was a wreck. Her soldiers were dead, and her plan was foiled. All by a whim of fate.

“Davis!” She summoned one of her agents.

Charlotte Davis was one of Christine’s newest recruits, a twenty-five-year old with cropped red hair.

“I want you to go to this park. Keep an eye on the proceedings. Don’t interfere until you are ordered to. Understood?”

“Understood,” Davis repeated.

XXXX

Rossiter led them into the restaurant. They were the only ones here. Presumably it was too far into the park for people to discover it early on. He led them to a large, circular table, with ten seats, one for each of them. Brian had since gone back the way they’d come. The man with sunglasses had disappeared.

Rossiter sat at the table first. Hemple sat opposite him. Jenny sat to Hemple’s right, and Connor to his left.

“So, I’d love it if you could all introduce yourselves. My name is Howard Rossiter, and I am the CEO of BioSyn industries. And you, Mister…

“Hemple. These are Professor Temple and Miss Lewis,” he said, motioning to the people sat on either side of him. “But we’d really like to talk to you about this project you have going on here.”

“Ah yes, that is partly the reason why your group was summoned for this meeting. I hear from Keeper Mueller that you have some issues with our mystery creatures…”

“You mean the future predators?” Connor said.

“Well, I like to call them megamyotids. It means ‘giant bat’,” Rossiter replied.

“Wow, imaginative,” Hemple said. “You do realize that these are ruthless killing machines, don’t you?”

“I assure you, Mister Hemple, our defenses are more than sufficient. They have undergone rigorous testing, and we do have the resources to manufacture the very best.”

“But this is just not enough!” Connor exclaimed.

“Excuse me, professor, what qualifications do you have to make such a statement?”

“He has enough,” Jenny replied. She now stepped in to make sure everything remained calm and civil. “Professor Temple is a leading scientist in his field. He is an evolutionary zoologist. Believe me, you should listen.”

“Well, we have our own team of crack scientists working on our projects, and they assure us that the visitors are perfectly safe. We even put an extra safety measure in place – all the future predators are female, so there is no breeding.”

“And the other animals? The raptors? The Tyrannosaurs?” Hemple asked.

“Well, we do have breeding projects in place. A creature is not truly saved from extinction until it breeds successfully in the modern day. You just have to look at the big picture all of the time.”

“Right,” said Hemple. “You know, I’d really like to meet these crack scientists of yours.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. They are located across the city, at a separate facility.”

Hemple stood up. “Then, I guess we’d better get going!”

“Mister Hemple,” Rossiter rose to meet his eye, “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

“I can,” Jenny said. “It can’t be too hard to find a scientific facility in Miami. Presuming it does exist.”

“Please, guests…” Rossiter’s voice faltered slightly. “In the big picture…”

Jenny stood up. “Come on, let’s go.”

The soldiers, Connor and Abby stood up. Hemple walked out of the restaurant, followed by the squad, and Connor. Abby, however, walked over to Rossiter.

“How did you do this? Who showed you the anomalies?”

Rossiter’s expression changed. “Anomalies? What anomalies?” But he didn’t sound convincing.

“That bull mammoth must be at least ten years old if his tusks are that long,” Abby pointed out. “So, when exactly did you start the cloning?”

“What are talking about? We’ve used an improved version Bio— InGen technology to clone them back!”

“Come on Abby,” Jenny said. “He’s not going to tell us anything.”

“We’re gonna stop you. By any means necessary.” With that, Abby followed Jenny.

Once they were out of the restaurant, Howard took out his phone and dialed the number of the base.

Helen answered. “Rossiter? How did the meeting go?”

“They mentioned ‘anomalies’. Does that mean what I think it means?”

“I told you they knew things. They are dangerous. I recommend bringing them in.”

“What about Grant and Malcolm? They still think we’re repeating InGen’s work.”

“They’re very influential in the scientific world. We can’t risk them telling the press about the exact details of the Nublar incident.”

“OK,” Howard replied.

“I’ll deal with them,” Helen assured him. She then hung up.

After ending the call with Rossiter, Helen rang a different number.

When they picked up, she said: “Password OP266OP25. Then, I want you to do something else. I may not be able to contact you again for some time, so, in eight hours’ time, OP266KP65.”

“Miss Cutter, are you sure? Won’t that…”

“Of course I’m sure. Do it. I’ll see you there tomorrow morning. Be ready.”

She ended the call.

Then, she rang Rossiter’s men. She gave them the orders.

It was getting dark.

The ARC team marched through the trees. Jenny didn’t actually know what her plan was yet, but she still walked with an illusion of purpose.

Behind them, she heard someone running. She looked back. The man with sunglasses had returned, and was following them again. Is he a spy?

Suddenly, Jenny felt a searing pain in her neck. She started to feel faint, and fell to the ground. Hemple ran over to her. He pulled something out of her neck. “A dart,” she whimpered.

Right in front of her, a dart shot into Hemple’s neck too. He fell onto his side. His soldiers started to shoot at where the dart had come from, but they almost immediately fell, clutching their necks.

As Jenny’s vision slipped into darkness, the last thing she heard was Abby and Connor’s groans.

Then, nothing.

The agent ran.

He was making a beeline back to the dormitories at the entry complex. He’d checked out a room there for the night, and that seemed to be a place he could defend himself.

‘John Doe’ took off his sunglasses and cap – they were only hindering his vision in the darkness.

He took out his phone, and rang Colonel Hopper.

“The ARC team has been captured,” he said. “Requesting back-up as soon as possible.”

“Roger that,” Hopper replied. “Initiating Operation Peacekeeper. See you in the AM, Agent Levine.”

“…They’d be a liability…”

Malcolm’s hearing faded in and out. He could hear muffled voices around him.

“…Where’s the other one…?”

Malcolm opened his eyes and looked around. He was sitting down, keeled over slightly. He raised his head, slowly and stiffly. The room was dark, and his vision too blurry to make out his surroundings just yet.

Then he realised. He was tied to a chair. To his right, he could just about make out, was Doctor Grant. Grant seemed to be unconscious.

Malcolm looked ahead of him. He could see a tall figure standing in front of him. “Where the hell am I?” Malcolm groaned.

“I’m in charge of the private security on this park.” The figure had a aged-sounding, male voice. It wasn’t any that Malcolm recognised.

“Why am I…why are we here?”

“Because,” the man explained, “you pose a threat to the credibility of the park.”

“Wow… Hammond wasn’t that bad after all.” Malcolm looked away.

Sarah Page returned Sid and Nancy to where she had found them, in the dorm. She covered them with a blanket. Then a few more blankets on top of that. She made sure they were loose enough to allow plenty of air in, but thick enough to muffle their grunts and squeals.

She then collapsed on the couch. She was exhausted. She hadn’t slept in forty hours. Sarah was looking forward to her bed. Lester was giving her a day off. And then back to work on the artifact.

She sighed. She had quite enjoyed the excitement for once.

Sarah got up to close the door. Well at least I’ll have a while to relax.

She then noticed someone standing there.

“Who are you?”

The dark figure grabbed her and quietly shut the door. She tried to scream, but his hand was over her mouth.

She felt him stab something into her neck. It felt like an injection.

Her vision faded away.

When he was sure she was out, the man stood over her, and whispered. “Name’s Ketterman”.

A future creature walked towards the fence. For the first time, the guests witnessed it, in its toothy horror.

Keeper Sandra Mueller shuddered. It was one thing to see it on the introduction video, it was quite another to see it in the flesh.

She wasn’t even sure it had flesh. It literally looked like skin and bones.

Something caught her eye beneath it. She looked closer. There was something stuck to its belly. It was a tiny, grey baby, clinging to the creature’s underside.

A baby megamyotid.

Sandra realized with horror what this meant – they were breeding.

In the dorms complex at the park, one man waited. Bided his time. It would all eventually go wrong, no matter what they said. And that would be his moment. Danny Quinn was ready.

XXXX

Lester rang a number he thought he would never get the chance to ring.

“Who are you calling?” Becker asked. He seemed to be getting impatient to start his rescue mission.

Lester raised his index finger to his lips.

“Hello, Andrea? It’s James Lester. Yes, the man from the Anomaly Research Centre. We’re having a bit of a situation at the moment, as I’m sure you’re aware.

“I’d like to speak with the President of the United States.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
END OF ACT ONE
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Factorizer - Áhugaverðar "staðreyndir"

Tue, 10 Jul 2007 20:45:04 GMT

Ég var að finna þessa síðu. Afsakið hvað þessi færsla var stutt.

http://www.factorizer.co.uk/

Hin kvikula jörð

Wed, 16 May 2007 11:29:56 GMT
Við fórum í jarðfræðiferð í Mývatnssveit á mánudaginn. Það var alveg rosalegt. Við fórum umhverfis Mývatn, sáum kúluskít og gervigíga, upp og niður Hverfell, skoðuðum leirhverina við Námafjall, borðuðum í Dimmuborgum, fórum í ungt hraun þar sem við fundum náttúrulegt gufubað og syntum í volgri laug í Stórugjá. (Myndir koma bráðlega) Mér fannst Stóragjá merkilegust. Laugin er eiginlega vatnsfylltur hellir sem er hér um bil við stofuhita. Á veggjunum eru furðulegar hrjúfar myndanir, sem minna nánast á kóralla. Ég veit ekki hvað þetta efni er, en þetta eru annaðhvort kísilþörungar eða þá grjótmyndanir sem myndast við það að efni úr berginu seytla niður úr veggjunum með vatni.

Söngvakeppni MA

Thu, 22 Mar 2007 13:33:44 GMT

Í kvöld verður söngvakeppni Menntaskólans á Akyreyri haldin í kvöld klukkan 8 í KA-heimilinu . Ég er í félaginu Myma (Myndbandafélagi MA) og ætla að hjálpa til við myndavélarnar. Í dómnefndinni verða Andrea Gylfadóttir, Bogomil Font og Hjörleifur Hjartarson. En það besta er að þeir sem hjálpa til við keppnina þurfa ekki að mæta í tvo fyrstu tímana á föstudag.

Totemaster

KING KONG!

Sat, 10 Mar 2007 13:45:15 GMT

Hér er tilkynning frá mér:

KING KONG ER Á LEIÐINNI!!!!!

Jájá, það er rétt. Kæru vinir og kunningjar, bráðum kemur King Kong kvikmyndin (Hvað voru mörg k í þessu? :lol:.) Jájá, það er rétt. Ég er búinn að vera að klippa myndina töluvert í fríinu. Myndin er betrumbætt með hljóðskrám úr tölvuleiknum Jurassic Park Operation Genesis (Sjá samnefndan tengil), tölvuleiknum Civilization (Fáránlega ávanabindandi leikur), ásamt ýmsu öðru, t.d. laginu Duel of the Fates úr Star Wars og hugsanlega nokkrum mistökum. Ég hef skipt myndinni í tvennt, vegna þess að hún er svo löng að hún myndi aldrei geta rúmast fyrir á einum diski. Myndin mun innihalda íslenskan texta. Einnig er nú komið King Kong myndaalbúm hér á bloggið.

Vinsamlegast athugið: Þið hafið eina viku til að skrá ykkur í The Lost World. Undirbúningur er hafinn. Sendið tölvupóst á 26tei@ma.is eða thetotemaster@hotmail.com áður en það er of seint.

Totemaster

Frægð og frami

Sun, 18 Feb 2007 14:42:05 GMT

Sæl, öllsömul. Eiríkur Hauksson var í gær kosinn til að flytja Evróvisjónlag Íslands í Helsinki þetta árið. Eins gott og lagið er, þá eru ýmsir gallar á íslenskum Evróvisjónlögum. Í keppninni sjálfri syngja söngvararnir rammfalskt, dansararnir kunna ekki að dansa (ef þeir eru þarna yfirleitt) og flytjendurnir standa þétt saman á miðju sviði og gera ekki neitt! Er þetta það sem við viljum að öll Evrópa sjái? Viljum við líta út eins og hálfvitar? NEI! Stopp! Hingað og ekki lengra! Nú skulu íslensku Evróvisjónumsjónarmennirnir kveikja á þeim fáu heilafrumum sem þeir eru með og HLUSTA! Þetta er nefnilega ósköp einfalt. Hér er uppskrift af sigri:

Keppendur verða að geta sungið vel, hvað sem það kostar.

Keppendur ættu að vera vel þekktir í Evrópu.

Keppendur ættu að herma eftir vinningslaginu frá árinu sem leið, EKKI eftir vinningslagi frá árinu sautjánhundruðogsúrkal eða lagi úr Idol/X-factor.

Keppendur VERÐA AÐ VERA MEÐ GOTT LAG SEM VIRKAR Á ENSKU!!!

Keppendur verða að GERA EITTHVAÐ á sviðinu. Ég er svo þreyttur á að sjá Íslendinga standa og gera ekkert.

Keppendur verða að vera í áhugaverðum fötum. Konur skulu klæðast marglitum, áberandi, en umframalt EFNISLITLUM fötum eða búningum SEM HÆGT ER AÐ STRIPPA SIG ÚR. Karlmenn skulu klæðast marglitum jakkafötum (Hvítt, rautt og gyllt virkar vel).

Keppendur VERÐA AÐ HAFA DANSARA SEM KUNNA AÐ DANSA ALMENNILEGA!!! Einnig EIGA KEPPENDUR SJÁLFIR AÐ KUNNA AÐ DANSA!

Keppendur verða að nota ALLT sviðið! Best er að æfa á túni eða fótboltavelli, vegna þess að sviðin í Evrópu eru MARGFALT STÆRRI en þau íslensku.

Keppendur ættu ekki bara að hugsa stórt, heldur tröllaukið. Í staðinn fyrir að fara út í "gera sitt besta og skemmta sér" þvæluna, munið að, ólíkt öðrum keppnum, þá er aðalatriðið SIGUR!

Keppendur skulu vera kurteisir. "Hóst, hóst, Silvía Nótt, hóst!"

Gerið það rétta. Kjósið ekkert rugl.

Totemaster

Skólinn byrjaður

Thu, 01 Feb 2007 09:52:31 GMT

Jæja, nú er skólinn byrjaður aftur. Þetta var svo sannarlega gott frí. Enginn skóli, Ísland vann hvern leikinn á fætur öðrum í handbolta (fyrir utan þá sem þeir töpuðu, að sjálfsögðu) og ég hélt fund um The Lost World. Þetta var eins og jólafríið alveg upp á nýtt.

Ég óska Íslendingum til hamingju með sigrana sem þeir unnu af hólmi, en samhryggist þeim um leikina sem þeir töpuðu.

Eins og ég sagði áðan, þá hélt ég fund um The Lost World á síðasta fimmtudag. Aðeins tveir mættu, en þrátt fyrir það þá var fundurinn áhugaverður. Við komumst að nokkrum niðurstöðum um búninga, tökustaði og þess háttar. Bara ef allir eða flestir hefðu mætt.

Ég kláraði einnig að lesa eina af bókunum sem ég fékk í jólagjöf. Tyrannosaur Canyon eftir Douglas Preston. Sú bók er bæði vísindaskáldssaga og spennusaga, sem er nýlega komin út. Hún fjallar um það að maður er myrtur í eyðimörkinni í Nýju-Mexíkó, og ríkur hestaeigandi og kona hans flækjast inn í málið. Svo kemur í ljós að látni maðurinn var að leita að stærsta og heillegasta grameðlusteingervingi sem til er. Leynileg ríkisstjórnarstarfsemi vill stöðva söguhetjurnar í leit sinni að risaeðlunni, vegna þess að steingervingurinn inniheldur banvæna veiru utan úr geimnum sem olli útrýmingu risaeðlanna. Það má segja að þessi bók sé eins konar blanda af X Files, National Treasure og Jurassic Park. Þeir sem eru fyrir spennusögur ættu ekki að láta þennan dýrgrip framhjá sér fara. Því miður er ég ekki í réttri aðstöðu til að gera kvikmynd eftir henni.

Ég ætla að biðjast afsökunar á Jurassic Park sögunni minni. Ég veit að hún kann að virðast leiðinleg, en trúið mér gott fólk, ég ætla von bráðar að gera hana mun áhugaverðari.

Totemaster

Til hamingju, Ísland

Tue, 23 Jan 2007 17:20:00 GMT

Í gær var merkisdagur. Ísland vann Frakka í handbolta. :haha::haha::haha::haha::haha:Ég fylgist nánast aldrei með íþróttum, en hinsvegar sá ég glæsilegan sigur vorrar þjóðar og þess vegna er einungis hægt að lýsa þessum atburði með því að breyta textanum í Evróvisjónlagi Silvíu Nætur örlítið:

q“Til hamingju, Ísland, með að vinna þennan leik.

Okkar land er mjög sterkt og ykkar er´í steik...”r

Og við MAingar myndum syngja:

q“Frakkland með rjóma á, Frakkland með rjóma á, það er gott að fá, nefnilega Frakkland með rjóma á, Frakkland með rjóma á, Frakkland með rjóma á, það er gott að fá!”r

Totemaster

Gleðilegt nýtt ár

Thu, 04 Jan 2007 12:03:59 GMT

Gleðilegt nýtt ár, kæru vinir. Nú er árið 2007, sjöunda ár 21. aldar, gengið í garð. Í tilefni af því ætla ég að segja ykkur nokkrar skrítlur sem ég hef heyrt og lesið. Hér koma þær:

1.

Í himnaríki og í helvíti er mikill munur á því hverjir sjá um partíin. Í himnaríkin sjá Þjóðverjarnir um skipulagninguna, Bretarnir um skemmtiatriðin og Ítalirnir um veitingarnar. Í helvíti er skipulagningin allt öðruvísi. Þar sjá Ítalirnir um skipulagninguna, Þjóðverjarnir um skemmtiatriðin og Bretarnir um veitingarnar.

:lol:

2.

Það gerðist einu sinni að Bandaríkjaforseti, Páfinn og lítill strákur voru einu farþegarnir í flugvél. En svo biluðu hreyflarnir. Flugmennirnir stukku allir út úr vélinni, en skildu aðeins eftir tvær fallhlífar. Bandaríkjaforseti sagði: "Ég er leiðtogi mikilvægs lands. Ég verð að lifa af.", og stökk út úr vélinni. Páfinn sagði við strákinn: "Ég hef lifað lengi. Mér finnst að þú ættir að fá fallhlífina mína." En þá sagði strákurinn: "Nei, nei, það er óþarfi. Forsetinn tók nefilega skólatöskuna mína."

:lol:

3. Hér er sú besta:

Ritgerð um spendýr

Branduglan er fugl af ugluætt. Hún er spendýr. Spendýr fæða lifandi unga sem
nærast á mjólk. Branduglan er meðal algengustu spendýra á Íslandi og í öðrum
löndum ef það séu mörg tré, t.d. á Akureyri. Hún verpir eggjum sínum í stór
eikartré á hálendinu. Hún býr til holur í trén með hornunum sem hún hefur á
hausnum. Stundum detta hornin af og nefnist það hornafall. Fyrst eftir
varpið drekka ungarnir mikla mjólk. Hún er mjög holl en getur valdið
hjartasjúkdómum, sérstaklega ef sjúklingurinn reykir mikið. Það skeði svoltið
fyrir frænda minn. Hann reykir svo mikið að hann er dáinn núna. Stundum
drekka ungarnir of mikla mjólk. Þá þenjast þeir út svo að eggin brotna
og ungarnir fljúga til heitu landanna. Ég fór einu sinni til heitu landanna
með pabba og mömmu. Þar þarf ekki að nota húfu og vettlinga ef það sé nóg
fiður á ungunum. Það ver þá fyrir hættulegum geislum sólarinnar. Mamma
sólbrann illa í ferðinni því ósonlagið er svo þunnt og svo eru líka
gróðurhúsaáhrif og súrt regn. Uglur og leðurblökur eru einu spendýr á Íslandi
sem geta flogið. Þess vegna er auðveldara fyrir þær að safna hunangi og
svoleiðis ef mjólkin sé búin. Aðal varpstöðvar uglunnar eru í Ódáðahrauni þar
sem eru mörg tré. Sennilega eru Þær útdauðar núna vegna ósonlagsins. Það er
útaf spreybrúsum og svoleiðis.

:lol:

Totemaster

Gleðileg Jól og farsælt komandi ár

Wed, 27 Dec 2006 23:55:13 GMT

Gleðileg jól, kæru lesendur. Jólin eru komin og nú líður að áramótum. Ég er búinn að láta þrjá nýja tengla inn á síðuna frá því að ég skráði síðustu færslu. Fyrsti tengillinn liggur inn á bloggsíðu Sella (Sveinn Leó Bogason). Ég vann með honum síðasta sumar á Gróðrarstöðinni Krókeyri. Annar tengillinn liggur inn á síðuna Engrish.com, “sem el skemmtireg síða sem gengul út á það að finna og sýna sræmal þýðingal flá japönsku yfil á ensku. Þessal setningal elu oft irra stafsettal og oftal en ekki í svo máttrausan lugringsregli hræl hlæðirega löð sig saman að krukkutímum maðul.”, eða “...sem er skemmtileg síða sem gengur út á það að finna og sýna slæmar þýðingar frá japönsku yfir á ensku. Þessar setningar eru oft illa stafsettar og oftar en ekki í svo hræðilega ruglingslegri röð að maður hlær sig máttlausan klukkutímum saman.” Ég mæli með þessari síðu fyrir alla þá sem kunna að meta hreinræktað rugl. Þriðji nýji tengillinn er að sjálfsögðu auglýsingin, eða “trailerinn” fyrir nýjustu myndina mína, King Kong. Ég fjalla aðeins nánar um hana í tenglinum Nýjasta Myndin, þótt sá tengill sé fyrst og fremst um The Lost World. Hafið það gott á árinu sem er að líða og skemmtið ykkur konunglega á því nýja.

Totemaster

Senn koma jólin

Thu, 21 Dec 2006 20:02:30 GMT

Komið þið sæl. Nú er ég kominn í jólafrí og get því skrifað meira inn á síðuna. Ég mun halda áfram að bæta við söguna mína og ég býð "Mega Raptor" (Höfundur sögunnar sem veitti mér innblástur) gleðileg jól og farsælt komandi ár. "Mega Raptor, if you're reading this, then I want to thank you for writing your story on TresCom, the Jurassic Park Diary. That story so very inspirational to me. I wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year." Og öllum Íslendingum óska ég innilegra og gleðilegra jóla og farsæls komandi árs.

Totemaster