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Jurassic Park Dawn of Retribution Stage Nineteen
By JPJunkee+Yvonne
NINETEENTH STAGE
"The most dramatic of conflicts are perhaps those that take place not between men,
but between a man and himself, where the area of conflict is a solitary mind."
-- Clark Moustakas --
Brock Larson sat on his knees, his face staring blankly down at the ground. He had moved himself under a nearby tree, so that he could rest against it, and it had taken everything he had to get that far. The crimson art on his skin and clothes looked as though he had fled underneath the tree to avoid a red rain. But the downpour remained in his hair, matting it against his forehead. His eyes looking into a world no one else could see, while his eyelids fluttered as exhaustion and fatigue finally began to take hold on his body and mind. His jaw was clenched shut; all of his slow arduous breaths escaping through his flared nostrils.
In his hand, the little green numbers gradually made their way closer to zero.
What few clear thoughts that remained in his strained mind slowly began to fade, the world becoming a blur around him. The eyes finally closed, his body faltering and falling to the side, his head striking the earth.
And then, after every pain and controlled thought had all but left him, he began to dream.
Hazy faces swirled around him. People he never got to know, people who had never offered a name, choosing to remain anonymous in his world of memory. A single vibrant light then overtook these faces, and with a loud resonating boom, he found himself standing in the labs of Isla Nublar.
In the real world, his body twitched slightly, not ready or willing to return to the horrible memory again.
Brock Larson was now ten years younger, his face looking much healthier, his charming smile indicating his happiness in life. In front of him, his fingers worked in conjunction with his swift mind as they typed at a keyboard. His eyes shifted back and forth, sifting through the lines of code on the computer screen.
Unexpectedly hands appeared on both his shoulders, rubbing his tense muscles.
"What are you working on?" asked the familiar female voice.
He stopped typing, bringing his hands up to touch her own. Then he spun his chair around, looking into the bright sapphire eyes of his love Suzan.
"Nothing now," he said, smiling, happy to have her company.
Broken and laying on the ground in the real world, Larson's tired face smiled, too.
Suzan returned the kind smile, revealing her pearly white teeth. She had a folder of papers underneath one of her arms. "I just wanted to say hello . . . and good bye." She laughed softly.
Larson loved her laugh, hearing it again – even in a dream – set off a sudden enchanting combustion of emotions in his heart. "Where are you going?" he asked, holding her hands and rubbing her palms with his thumbs.
Suzan sighed, pulling out the folder of papers. "I need to take this down to Arnold in the Control Room. Then, I need to check on some of the diagnostics from the rex's feeding schedule. She seems to be eating irregularly lately."
Larson nodded, "Shouldn't take you too long. When you get back I could use your help on some of this."
"You bet," Suzan said, smiling again before brushing a strand of her long hair behind her ear. Then her hands left his, and she turned and walked away. He watched silently as she walked towards the exit of the laboratory. She looked at him one last time, still smiling brightly, then left.
Larson sighed. Suzan's love was intoxicating. He felt invincible, just looking at her smile. Like nothing could come between them, the world was theirs for the taking, and they were there to take in and relish every last drop. He stood up from his chair and stretched his arms to the side, taking in a deep breath. He smiled up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, simply thinking about her.
In the real world, Larson's bloody and broken face mirrored the face in his dreams.
In his dream, he lowered his arms and then looked over at Suzan's desk. A puzzled frown took over his delightful smile.
Laying on the ground, the wind tugging at his hair, Larson winced. What remaining intellect his mind now possessed in his dream state tried to push away the images, avert the dream to a different path like he had done many times before in the past. This time, however haphazardly, the dream stayed its true and proper course. Larson's eyelids flickered open and closed in rapid succession, his glazed eyes stared into nothingness as he dreamed on.
Larson stood beside Suzan's desk. He was alone in this section of the lab, except for Arthur Avery who sat in the dark corner at the opposite side of the room, his face planted to his microscope. Larson's gaze was affixed on the small picture of Suzan, laying beside the keyboard of her computer. The picture, covered by a plastic shine, was glued to a laminated ID card with her name, and a barcode on it. He reached down and picked up the card, then turned his head to the closed door that Suzan had just exited through. She would need this card if she hoped to get into the Control Room, or just about any other security locked door, for that matter. Tucking the card into his pocket, he ran for the door, and left the labs.
Outside the labs, in the bright and shiny halls, he half expected to see Suzan running up to him, laughing and asking for her card. But she was nowhere in sight. Frowning, he started down the hall towards the Control Room.
Then in a blur of white noise and blurred visions, his dream jumped forward, and he now stood beside the large silver door to the Control Room. Suzan wasn't there. He took out her card from his pocket, tapping it against his knuckles. The lab door opened, and an engineer, just another face without a name, stepped out.
Larson tapped the man's arm and asked, "Have you seen Suzan Lefly?"
The man shook his head, and began to walk away, indifferent to Larson's concern.
Larson put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from walking away any further. "Are you sure?" he asked to the back of the man's head.
The man turned around, he looked annoyed to be bothered by Larson, but he forced a polite smile. "Suzan who?"
Larson held up Suzan's ID card, showing her picture to the man. "Suzan Lefly, have you seen her?"
The man shook his head again, then turned and walked away. Larson sighed, wondering where she was. He supposed it wasn't any truly alarming matter, but he found it a little curious all the same.
"You looking for your shelia?" asked a quiet voice behind him.
Larson spun on his heels. Robert Muldoon, the park's game warden, stood behind him, his hat held against his chest. Muldoon's face had sharp stern features, with eyes that darted everywhere, taking in the whole environment.
"Yes," Larson said. "Suzan was coming down here to bring some files to Arnold--"
"She never walked through those doors," Muldoon said flatly, pointing at the Control Room. "She took a Jeep, somewhere south of here, I think."
Larson frowned. "Where did she go?"
Muldoon shook his head, moving past Larson and opening the door to the Control Room with his own ID card.
Larson pocketed Suzan's card, and walked towards the stairs that led down into the lobby of the Visitor's Center. He dimly heard a quiet warning from Muldoon about bad rain and winds outside, but his motions did not slow. He took the stairs three at a time, until he finally reached the lobby.
The sun shining down on his face was drying the blood very quickly. Larson's head shook and twitched; he grimaced sourly as his mind revisited the long forgotten events of the past. For years, he had dreamed of things that he had been able to convince himself into believing were fact, but now for the first time since the actual occurrence, he was reliving the truth.
In his dream, Larson now stood in the garage. Without a second thought about others that might have been in need of the vehicle, he jumped into the driver's seat, putting it into gear and roaring out of the dark garage. Outside, the darkness was even more ominous. Dark clouds swirled above, while harsh rains and winds thrashed against all sides of the Jeep.
Again, the dream jumped forward, a haze of lightning and headlights streaming in every direction. Then, the dream slowed once more, and Larson's Jeep had stopped somewhere beneath a pair of thick overhanging palm trees. His headlights were dimmed, but he could see the parked Jeep in front of him, and the unmistakable face that was illuminated by the lightning in the sky. He stared past his windshield wipers that danced back and forth in sync with the patter of the rain, and watched as Suzan's head darted from side to side looking for someone in the rain.
Larson gasped when her eyes passed over his Jeep, but her gaze never seemed to land on his face. Finally, from a nearby building, a door swung open and a man ran out into the rain towards Suzan's Jeep. He held a newspaper over his head in a futile attempt to keep his head and shoulders dry. When the man reached the passenger side door, Suzan leaned over and unlocked the door for him. Before he climbed into the vehicle, he took a glance in every direction, just as Suzan had. When he looked Larson's way, the sky above transformed into a bright display of lightning, illuminating his face. Karl Berkley. One of his fellow lab technicians.
From the safety of his Jeep, Larson's breathing hastened as the windshield wipers swung up and down at a furious pace, the rain coming down like a waterfall.
On the ground and still positioned on his side, Larson began to imagine the rapid movement of the windshield wipers in succession with the numbers ticking down on the detonator. As if it had gone hand-in-hand, he began to picture raindrops hitting him, as another vision leapt into his mind.
He was standing at the rear of the supply boat. He blinked rain away and watched, as the harbor of Isla Nublar moved further and further away.
Then, two figures came running through the storm, heading towards the edge of the harbor. One of them, who he recognized to be Suzan, waved her arms frantically at the boat. The second person, who he saw was Berkley, held a bloody arm against his chest, his torso shuddering visibly with each breath of air he took.
In the next instant, trees behind the harbor exploded in a wild array of leaves and splinters of wood, as a giant behemoth thundered out of the jungle, closing in on them quickly. Within the blink of an eye, it was upon Berkley, its large open maw coming down and biting him below the arms and then promptly swallowing his body whole.
Suzan screamed and retreated as far as she could to the very end of the harbor. The dark creature growled, slowly looming closer and closer to her. Larson watched, never blinking, as the dinosaur roared and brought its mouth down upon her screaming face.
Suddenly, the pelting rain stopped, causing him to focus on something else. The blue sky was hovering above, threatening to alter his current mood. He squinted, bringing his arm over his eyes, trying to shield the rays. Fighting the urge to return to his dream-state, Larson attempted to sit up, but as soon as he moved, his visions altered once more and the sky dissipated, morphing into blackness as his subconscious took him on another trip.
When his mental vision returned, Larson was now stepping out of his Jeep. Rain fell upon his head, but he didn't seem to care. He stared despondently at the Jeep that he had followed here. Suzan and Berkley had gotten out together, then walked through the front doors of Suzan's dormitory. She hadn't slept a night here in a long time, having spent all her nights in Larson's room. His mouth was dry, like a large wad of cotton had traveled up his throat and onto his tongue.
He turned slowly and walked up the stairs to the dorm, entering through the front doors. Inside, the air was chilly against his wet skin. Suzan's room was on the second floor. Methodically, he moved towards the staircase, and walked up slowly, his wet hand limply gripping the railing.
At the top of the staircase, he could hear a faint giggle of happiness, like a little girl stealing candy from another child, confident the victim would forever remain unbeknownst to the crime. The confident laughter, something he had always admired in Suzan, now made his blood run cold. He felt his heart flutter, even in a dream, his unconscious body felt the bracing fear that coursed through his veins. He reached the second floor, and with tear-filled eyes, stared down to the end of the hall.
He saw a happy couple, Suzan and Berkley, opening the door to Suzan's room. Her smile was shining like the sun, but for the first time the sun felt cold, stabbing at his soul. Suzan held Berkley's tie in her hands, and led the man into her room, then closed the door behind them.
Larson's wide-spread fingers closed into a fist, then opened again. He walked slowly down the hall, his shoes making squishing sounds over the linoleum floors. Finally, he was at the door to her room. He put his hand on the doorknob.
Laying in the dirt, Larson shifted onto his back, his hands fidgeting as his head shook back and forth defiantly. He did not want to see this, did not want to relive the past. He had strained forever to force himself into forgetting the real events, but now everything came flooding in, and he was at the mercy of his own subconscious.
His hand slowly turned the doorknob, the door opening and shining a ray of golden light onto his face from within the room. Larson took a deep breath and entered the room. He saw no one. But he could hear them laughing innocently, along with the clang of wine glasses, in the kitchen.
He slowly moved into the modest living room, until his feet brushed against something. Looking down, he saw Suzan's sky-blue blouse. He bent down and picked up the article of clothing from the floor. Bringing it to his nose, he breathed deep, taking in her scent.
He detected movement and looked up to see Suzan and Berkley walking out of the kitchen. In her hands were a pair of wine glasses, both filled half way with the dark red intoxicating beverage. Berkley came out of the kitchen behind her, his face gently nuzzling the side of her neck as he walked with her down the short hall, with his hands resting on her waist. Berkley's necktie had since been removed, and the top of his shirt was unbuttoned slightly.
Suzan looked down as his hands traveled up to her stomach, then with a smile Berkley began to tickle her. She laughed, spinning around to face Berkley, the wine nearly spilling over the brim of the glasses in her hands. The two closed their eyes as their lips met in a passionate kiss. Berkley slowly eased Suzan down the hall, towards the door of the bedroom.
Upon reaching the bedroom door, their kiss ended and they opened their eyes.
Berkley's eyes landed on the full-length mirror on the bedroom door. In the reflection, he saw Larson with the blue blouse in his hands. The man gasped, turning to look at Larson, eye to eye. Berkley jumped slightly, his skin turning a ghostly pale. Suzan saw Berkley's fright and turned around. She saw Larson standing motionless in the middle of the living room, and let out a scream, dropping both the glasses from her hands. The glasses crashed against the hardwood floors, the wine spilling over her bare feet.
Larson swallowed hard, then tossed the blue blouse at Suzan. It hit her in the chest, then tumbled down to the floor, sopping up the red wine. Larson put his head down, then slowly made his way towards the couple.
Berkley put his hands on Suzan's shoulders, and slowly moved her aside, placing her behind him.
Suzan was weeping now, crying Larson's name, begging for forgiveness, asking Berkley to peacefully leave.
When Larson was within arms reach of them, Berkley put up his hand, trying to keep him at a distance. Larson's head moved upwards and he saw Berkley's mouth moving slowly, his friendly words silent to his ears. In one swift motion, he reached out with his left hand and grabbed Berkley's arm, yanking him closer, then followed the abrupt action with a fast right blow to Berkley's face.
With a crack of knuckles against teeth, Berkley's feet left the ground and he was sent falling through a coffee table. Larson stared at Suzan; she looked so frightened, so guilty and ashamed. He had never seen this side of her before. Larson knelt down and casually picked up a sharp stem from one of the broken wine glasses. He stood once more, and with a last fleeting glance at Suzan, he turned and walked towards Berkley.
The man was on his back, surrounded by splinters of wood from the broken coffee table. Berkley rubbed his jaw, as a trickle of blood made its way out the corner of his mouth. Larson stood over him, as pity and spite clouded his glare. Then he got down on his knees beside Berkley, and helped the man sit up by grabbing a handful of hair and ripping him up off his back.
With his free hand, Larson brought the stem of the wine glass back, holding it above his head, then plunged it down at Berkley's sweaty neck. Berkley reeled to the side just in time, the sharp shard of glass missing his throat but instead stabbing deep into his shoulder. The man let out a scream, staring at the glass blade that was now lodged in his skin, blood seeping from the wound. Larson gripped the stem again, then shoved it to the side, breaking it in half and leaving a large portion within Berkley's skin.
Larson set the blade on the ground beside his knee, then proceeded to pummel Berkley's face with his clenched fist. With each strike the man seemed to weaken a great deal, his eyes slowly turning hazy until it looked like they had no focus at all. Larson sensed Suzan close behind him, and could almost hear her screams over his deafening anger, as she stood powerlessly watching Berkley's beating.
When at last Berkley seemed to be in no condition to move away again, Larson let him drop down onto his back. Picking up the blade once more, Larson raised the blade over his head, his eyes looking at Berkley's heart.
Then in the last moment, he felt Suzan's hands on his arms, as she pulled at his clothing trying to stop him from committing the appalling act. Larson shrugged his shoulders and glared at her, trying to keep her back, but to no avail. Suzan only struggled more, trying her best to pull Larson away.
Larson growled and snapped his right hand at her, backhanding her across the face. The end of the wine stem in his hand cut a deep laceration into her cheek. She screamed and fell backwards. She stared at Larson with fearful eyes, while clutching her face as blood slowly began to make its way down her face and to her chin.
Larson got to his feet, his eyes never leaving Suzan's. She was so scared, so scared of him. The glass blade rolled out of his hand, and shattered when it hit the floor. He looked back at Berkley. The man's blood, together with the dark red wine, had nearly stained his entire shirt a beautiful scarlet color.
Then without another word, Larson lowered his head and made his way to the door. He walked out into the hall, down the stairs, and then out into the rain. He looked at the palms of his trembling hands as the raindrops washed away the blood. He made his way down to the Jeeps, staring ominously at the Jeep they had used, pondering his options. He sighed and moved to the back of his Jeep, throwing open the rear hatch and pulling out a heavy red toolbox.
He opened the box, sifting through various tools, until he finally came upon a foot long flathead screwdriver. He grinned slightly, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, then moved back to the other Jeep. Starting at the rear back tire, he stabbed the screwdriver hard into the rubber tire, and with a hiss of air, created a big decent size hole. He systematically moved from tire to tire, each resulting in the same hiss of air. Then he tossed the screwdriver back into his Jeep, and climbed into the driver's seat.
As he pulled away from the dormitory, he watched impassively as Suzan and Berkley appeared in his rear view mirror screaming at him. But he didn't hear a single word of it.
The dream bounded forward, and he was now back at his computer desk in the labs. His strained and bloodshot eyes stared at the monitor. He heard Ray Arnold's voice come over the PA. It sounded so far away, he never heard any of the words.
Then someone tapped him on the shoulder, spinning his chair around. He blinked away his trance, and looked into the face of Arthur Avery, one of the other lab geneticists.
"Come on, let's go," Avery said in a rushed voice, then turned and walked away at a brisk pace.
Dr. Henry Wu walked into Larson's field of vision, grabbing a few folders from his desk. "What's going on?" Larson asked, his voice calm and level. He was surprised at how cool he acted considering what he had just done and witnessed.
"Storm's only getting worse, so any unnecessary staff are being ordered to evacuate," Wu said. "They want us on the boat heading to the main land as soon as possible."
Larson nodded and got out of his chair, following Wu to the door leading out of the labs.
"Have you seen Dr. Lefly or Dr. Berkley?" Wu asked. "We can't find them anywhere in the building."
Larson simply shook his head and walked to the door. Wu moved through the door ahead of him, and started down the hall. Larson picked up his rain jacket from a coat hanger and then walked out of the labs, shutting the door behind him. As he started walking down the halls with Avery at his side, Larson raised his arms and threw his jacket over his head, pulling it on. In doing so, it lifted his shirt up to reveal his wet and bloodstained under-shirt.
Avery happened to look Larson's way at that moment, and saw the bloody shirt. He looked up slowly at Larson's face and was shocked to see his eyes glaring at him. Avery swallowed hard and looked away.
Larson nodded his head, adjusting the collar of his jacket and started walking at a faster pace.
In the flash of lightning, he found himself standing in the rain on the boat. The harbor was slowly slipping further and further away into the darkness of the storm. Valiant winds threatened to sweep Larson off his feet, but his hand was tightly gripping one of the supply crates, anchoring him down. Near the harbor, a single Jeep had been left running, its bright lights shining out at the ocean.
Arthur Avery walked to his side, shouting into his ear, "Let's go inside, okay?"
Larson lowered his head, and nodded solemnly. He turned to go inside, hesitating for a second, looking back at the island one last time. In that instant, he saw something pass by the Jeep's headlights.
He stopped, then turned back to the island as two people ran through the lights, heading towards the edge of the harbor. The two people waved their arms frantically, but in the torrential rain, their bodies were very hard to discern. He put his hand over his brow, trying to block out the rain, but it was still too hard to make out who the people were.
Spinning to his left, Larson threw open the top of one of the supply crates. After quickly rummaging through the contents, he shut the crate, and tossed it aside. He opened the crate that had been underneath. Smiling, Larson took out what he had been looking for.
The night vision goggles were heavy in his tired hands. Switching them on, he placed them over his eyes, and looked back to the island's edge.
Zooming in on the figures in the darkness, their faces brightened by the eerie green glow of the goggles.
"Who is it?" Avery asked, returning to his side.
Through the goggles, he saw a wounded man struggling to merely maintain his footing. And a woman, who had been loading a flare gun, but dropped it in panic. He couldn't make out their faces, but he knew who they were.
"It's Suzan and Berkley," Larson whispered. His heart skipped a beat when he heard himself utter their names. He frowned, full of regret inside for what he had done. He wanted to be with Suzan again, just so he could say sorry for harming her. And that he would forgive her for such an awful act . . . take her back, flaws and all.
Lightning flashed, causing the green display to blur a bright white, stinging his eyes.
"Shit!" Larson snapped, ripping the goggles away from his face and throwing them at the ground. Rubbing his eyes, he turned to Avery, "See if you can get them to turn the boat around."
Avery nodded, and then started running away from him.
Larson heard a bang sound coming from the island and turned back to see a red flare arcing through the sky. He watched as the ball of light floated down to the harbor.
When it finally came to rest, he saw Suzan highlighted a bright red in the glow. She was facing away from him, backing slowly towards the edge of the dock. Larson averted his eyes to Berkley who lay on the ground near Suzan's feet.
Larson stopped breathing when the eight-foot tall, gangly dinosaur walked into the crimson glow. The colorful frill that circled the creature's long curving neck rattled as it advanced towards Suzan.
Suzan continued to back away from the dinosaur, until she tripped over her own feet, falling on her back.
The frill disappeared on the dilophosaur's neck. It looked skyward, roaring.
Then it pounced.
The light of the flare diminished into nothing, spreading a blanket of darkness over the harbor. But through the black, Larson could hear her screams. Over water, wind, and thunder, he could still hear those terrible screams.
He had left her there to die. Larson fell to his knees with his hands over his ears, trying to block out the screams, as he wailed in absolute misery. "Why did you have to love him, Suzan?" he managed to quietly spit out.
Avery arrived at his side once again. At first he stared down at him with eyes of worry and concern, but after overhearing Larson's statement, he moved away, putting things together on his own.
Larson paid him no attention as his whole world started to go black.
Laying on the dirty ground, Larson gasped for breath as his eyelids shot open. He held a hand to his face, blocking out the bright light of the sun. His brain throbbed and his heart was palpitating very fast. With each breath he took, it never seemed like there was enough oxygen to fill his lungs. For so long he had made it his one mission in life to bring his love's murderers to justice, and all along he had been responsible, simply creating an alternate fate for her, so he could place the blame on others – on the innocent. No one had left her there to die, beside himself.
The mind bends and twists in order to deal with the horrors of life. Sometimes the mind bends so much, it snaps in two.
His single task in life never had reason, never really even existed. He was to blame for the pained spirit. He had killed people for motives that outside of his mind had never come to pass. This sudden realization flooded him with emotions he had not felt for so long; guilt, remorse, and the overpowering feeling of helplessness.
Brock Larson looked up at the white clouds in the sky. His dry lips parted and he muttered in a weak voice, "I'm sorry, Suzan." A tear welled over his eyelid and passed down his dirty cheek, moving through a thick layer of dust on the way. He held up his hand to the skies, thinking of heaven, knowing he would never see Suzan there. He would never see heaven. He only hoped there was no such thing as an afterlife. He hoped Suzan would forgive him for what he had done.
Suzan's voice came to him now, echoing through the back of his mind. He pictured himself and Suzan running playfully while painting a room in their dorm. He felt Suzan kissing him, first on the neck, then on the lips. He remembered every lasting detail of their love, of their life together.
Nothing more than a memory. Scenes from a happier time. When they enjoyed every drop of life as though it may be their last, and looked at the world as though it were theirs for the taking. A happier time. He had loved her in life, and would love her in death.
With a loud beep, the explosive's timer ticked down to zero.
Larson closed his eyes and folded his hands over his chest, waiting for the end.
* * *
Finally, Sarah relaxed a little as she made out the silhouette of Isla Sorna in the distance. Scott had promised her that she would be able to see it once the clouds moved on, but she hadn't really believed him. She stood on the deck, looking out toward it, when she heard the churning of helicopter blades off in the distance. Guessing it was very close to the island, she quickly found the binoculars and started to scan the area.
Smiling, she shouted, "Nathan! There are people getting into a chopper on the island!"
Nathan Scott quickly made his way to her, with a pair of his own binoculars, "Yeah," he said with a long sigh, "But they're military."
"What? How do you know?"
"Here," he said, giving her his binoculars, "These zoom in. Look for yourself."
Sarah took them and looked back in the direction of the island. Everyone she could see was dressed in army fatigues. Still trying to keep some shred of hope, she continued to watch until the last man was in the chopper. No civilian-dressed people at all. She watched the chopper stay in place for a moment, and then finally it slowly ascended, traveling away from them.
"At least they're not looking for us. That part is good news," Scott said, trying to offer support.
The chopper hadn't completely disappeared in the horizon, when a bright light caught Sarah's attention. Turning her attention back toward the northern part of the island, she watched a giant ball of fire silently travel straight up. Seconds later, the boat began to shake as a strong vibration invaded both the land and the accompanying water. People all over the boat grabbed handrails, or whatever else they could for support, as the shockwave continued. Soon after, several more parts of the island erupted into balls of fire, sending additional shockwaves over the rescinding ones. Smoke began to cover the bright red and orange flames, spreading across several areas simultaneously. Then, as if on queue, the expected explosions began to burst outward, causing Sarah to cover her ears.
"Jesus," Scott whispered in shock. He began to run toward the bridge, shouting to the nearest crew member, "What the hell was that? Did Reynolds pick up anything on the radio?"
Sarah continued to just stare as the explosions kept coming, smoke threatening to cover the island completely from her vision.
* * *
The raptor tugged him along the forest ground for countless moments. In this time, Kaje was kept alive. The creature hadn't bothered to kill him.
Then, the raptor stopped and released his head from its maw. Kaje sat on his knees as he watched the raptor look around in confusion. He heard a slight rumbling . . . then he felt the ground begin to tremor.
The raptor felt it, too.
In an instant, the raptor fled, not even giving him a second glance.
Kaje watched the raptor run away. It had left him here, immobilized on his knees, to die.
Then, he heard the jungle come alive as roars echoed in every direction and trees were uprooted as animals tried to flee.
Flee from what?
Kaje looked to his left as a small herd of stegosaurs ran past him and then behind him. He shook his head in confusion. Why were these dinosaurs acting like this?
Then he looked straight ahead and he saw the reason.
The wave of fire and debris ripped through the jungle foliage like something straight out of the depths of hell. It burned and destroyed everything it touched. It moved so fast, that Kaje knew not even the raptor could outrun it.
He watched as the wave of fire started to bear down on him.
Kaje raised his chin and awaited the inescapable doom.
The fire and debris reached him, and tore through his body like he was made of paper. He could not see anything. He could not hear anything. He didn't feel anything.
And he didn't care to.
* * *
The boat chugged along, suddenly sounding louder than ever.
"What's the matter now?" Sarah asked.
"It's just the echo from being so close to the shore."
"Oh," she said, feeling stupid for not figuring that out.
Scott disappeared into one of the storage rooms and came out holding two rifles, "Ever use one of these before?"
"Yes," she answered.
"Good. We may need to defend ourselves . . . against animals and people alike."
Sarah watched Scott load his rifle and she mimicked him. She had fired a rifle, but it was quite a long time ago, so she wasn't exactly versed in weapons training.
The boat engine was placed into an idle position, as they made their way around the northeastern side of the island, taking a closer look near the volcano. They slowly drifted toward the western portion, hoping to spot some sort of movement. It wasn't long before their hopes were satisfied.
A slight fluttering invaded the area, and Sarah nervously wondered where it originated from. The answer suddenly exposed itself, as a group of juvenile pteranodons darted into the air, shrieking, and then circled back to the outcropping of rocks they had been sitting on. Men prepared to fire, but Sarah yelled for them not to, so everyone settled on watching as they took to the air again. They flew up and over the flames that threatened to rip them from the sky.
Fire was everywhere and quickly spreading, with the smoke overtaking everything.
A loud splash was heard from the starboard side, causing everyone to look to the right. The source was a large rock that had crumpled away from the volcano during the explosions. A lot of the cliff was weakening as many more large rocks dropped into the ocean, creating waves and some turbulence in the water.
The boat engine revved up once again, as Scott began to order that they pull away from the island.
"No!" Sarah shouted over the commotion. Once Scott was looking at her, she continued, "We are so close. We have to be close by now! We need to keep searching."
"Sarah, do you want to die?"
"Of course not."
"Well then we need to get away from here," Scott said as calmly as possible, "If one of those rocks comes into contact with us, we're all going down."
She lowered her eyes away from him, knowing he was the one thinking clearly. She was distraught and wanted to find Ian more than anything, whereas Scott, on the other hand, didn't know any of the people trapped on the island. He didn't have a personal stake in any of it, so he was able to make rational decisions.
Meeting his gaze again, she was about to reluctantly agree with him, when the boat drifted past a body floating in the water. The person was floating face-down, but she could still tell it was a man. Her breathing increased as she realized the man was dressed all in black.
"Oh, my God," she whispered, as she moved toward the edge of the boat to get a closer look.
Scott followed her and they both leaned over to see into the water. Sarah was sure it was Ian, so she began to prepare herself for the worst. Another crew member handed Scott a gaff hook attached to a long pole. Sarah watched as Scott leaned over and snagged a part of the dead man's clothes and dragged him toward the boat. Using the boat for leverage, he was able to turn the man over.
The man's face was bruised and broken. But through the welts, she could see it was not Ian. Sarah let out a massive sigh of relief. But then a wave of uncomfortable silence washed over the boat and all the people on it. Staring at the dead man she had never known, Sarah almost felt as though she were intruding on the deceased rightful space.
Scott looked at Sarah and whispered, "Is it him?"
Sarah closed her eyes, thinking about how close it had been. She felt dizzy. Slowly, she shook her head, no.
The gaff hook pushed the body slowly away from the boat. Sarah opened her eyes and watched as it slowly sank lower beneath the surface, leaving a dark red cloud in its wake.
Scott walked back to the bridge, and the boat rumbled to life again.
Sarah put her hands on the side rail, as she looked at the scorched island. The high rocky sides of the island began to subside until they gave way to a white sandy beach. If it weren't for the fronds still burning on the sand, it would have been a very beautiful sight to behold.
The boat slowly made its way closer to shore as it moved around a narrow piece of land. Once past it, they discovered a small lagoon. The lagoon was at the bottom of a thirty-foot cliff, which made Scott hesitant about heading into the waters.
"What's that?" Sarah asked, pointing somewhere to the leftmost side of the lagoon.
Squinting from the sun, Scott put his hand over his brow, trying to see what Sarah was talking about. There was a long line of rusted metal protruding from the side of a rock face. And beyond that, partly hidden, was a door. Scott turned the wheel of the boat, directing them into the lagoon.
"Let's check out that shelter," Scott said. "If there's one place on the island where someone could escape that blast, they would be wise to go there."
Scott turned off the engine, allowing the boat to coast up as close to the sandy beach as possible. Then a wooden plank was lowered over the side, to allow people to walk onto land without getting their feet wet.
Two of the crew members ran down the plank, positioning themselves at either end of the boat.
Against all odds, the door of the shelter suddenly lurched open with a loud clang.
The sudden unexpected sound and movement caught everyone off guard. Scott walked out from the bridge, grabbing his rifle. He gripped Sarah by her shoulder and then gruffly placed her behind him. He brought the rifle to his shoulder and waited for someone to walk out of the shadowy door.
Through the gloom, a female face appeared. She half walked . . . half stumbled out of the doorway and onto the sand. She glanced behind her, back toward the door, looking very lost and disoriented. Scott narrowed his eyes, trying to remain as quiet as possible, with everyone doing the same. Slowly the woman turned, nearly screaming when she saw the men on the beach, and the guns pointed her way.
Sarah looked around Scott's shoulder. She gasped when she saw the familiar face. "Leah?"
Scott lowered his weapon. "You know her?"
"Yes," Sarah said, walking past Scott, and over to the side rail of the boat again.
When Leah saw Sarah, her face drastically brightened. She still looked confused, but her face was no longer ghost white with fear. The two women stared at each other for a long moment in complete silence. Both of their journeys over the past few days had never brought them into contact with one another, until their individual journey's ended.
Leah limped slowly away from the door, but did not make any movement to approach her saviors.
Sarah waited for the sight or sound of others in the shelter, but none ever came. Seconds turned to minutes, and she was beginning to feel no one would ever emerge from the shadows. Too scared to ask Leah, and too scared to go in and check for herself, Sarah remained motionless on the boat.
Getting more than anxious now, Sarah was on the verge of crying. She didn't want to think she came that far for nothing. Just as that negative thought found its way into her mind, the familiar frame of her husband came through the door.
"Ian," she whispered, finding it hard to control her happiness. She ran past one of the crew members and rushed down the wooden plank and into the sand.
She could see that he was injured, but he ran to her as quick as he could, limping all the way. Sand kicking up underneath her feet, Sarah literally threw herself at Malcolm, wrapping her arms around his neck. She wanted to hold him forever, and never let him go, but after a moment he pushed her back slowly. She looked up at his face to see a grim frown.
She shook her head. "What is it? Alan . . . Ellie?" Sarah asked, not really wanting Malcolm to supply the obvious answer, since neither of them had walked out of the shelter.
"Alan is in there with her. She didn't make it," Malcolm answered, still not being able to believe what had occurred.
Sarah suddenly embraced Malcolm again, still greatly relieved to have him safe and sound in front of her.
"He's not going to come out," he said in a weak voice, as if the words themselves actually hurt to say out loud.
Leah approached her for the first time now and said, "I tried, but he's not leaving her side."
Sarah looked from her husband and to the door. There was no electricity on inside, but the light from the sun was shining through the doorway, bringing light into the dark and rustic space. In the sunlight she saw a pair of legs, laying across the ground, but nothing more. Sarah looked back to Malcolm for a moment, gently touching the side of his face, then started towards the shelter, passing by Leah as she did so.
Sarah walked through the door of the tiny bomb shelter, looking at Grant right away. He was just sitting there, unmoving and seemingly unaware that she was even in the room. Ellie was next to him, where he had gently placed her on her back. He just kept touching her hair over and over, fixated on her facial features.
"Dr. Grant?" Sarah whispered softly. She looked around her. Inside the shelter it was very damp. Moss and assorted fungi grew along the cement walls.
Grant didn't look away from Ellie.
"Alan?"
He finally looked at her and she forced herself to smile at him. She knew how much Ellie meant to him. She also knew that it wasn't going to be easy talking him out of there.
"Everyone is worried about you," she whispered, as she walked closer.
She observed him as he glanced around the room. It seemed as if he didn't realize everyone had gone. He was in such a very fragile state of mind that she felt out of place for trying to help. She was, for the most part, just an acquaintance to him, so she was starting to think it was an ill-conceived idea to barge in there like she did. Kneeling next to him, she waited for him to say something, but after a full minute had gone by, she tried to spark a conversation again.
"Why don't we get out of here?" she asked softly.
"No," he answered.
It was the first thing he had said to her and it was very definite. She placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to hopefully talk some sense into him, but when she did, he winced terribly. Promptly, she removed her hand, "Sorry."
Taking a good look at him for the first time, she came to the conclusion that he didn't look well at all. He was beaten up pretty bad and one of his hands was bandaged and bloodied. In fact, there was quite a lot of blood splattered on him. "I think you might need a doctor, Alan."
He looked at her and then at himself, then replied, "Yeah, maybe."
"Let's get you out of here, okay?"
"I'm not leaving her here alone," he replied adamantly.
"I'm not asking you to." She could see that he wasn't following her reasoning, so she elaborated, "I can go get some help and they can get her out of here."
"How many people are out there?" he asked. It was one of the first sentences where he didn't seem so distant and gone, as if he were finally coming out of his depression.
"About ten, I would guess."
Grant nodded, acknowledging her answer. He gazed back toward the doorway and he saw Leah standing there, looking in on them.
Sarah saw her, too, and decided to use her presence as the deciding factor in talking him into leaving the shelter, "Leah has been worried about you," she encouraged, whispering so only Grant could hear. He smiled faintly and she returned it. "So, can I help you out of here? What do you say?"
"Okay," he answered, finally giving into her gentle persuasion.
Sarah smiled with relief, "Good, good."
Standing up, Sarah moved around to his left and extended her hand to him.
He glanced at Ellie again, then to Leah in the doorway, and then back to Sarah. Reaching his hand toward her, she slowly pulled him to his feet. Stopping once because of the silent pain in his face, Sarah was finally able to get him to start walking toward the doorway . . . toward his future with Leah and away from his past with Ellie.
Sarah got him to the doorway, where he gently moved past her, finding himself directly in front of Leah. She left the two of them alone as she walked outside to get some help so they could properly move Ellie.
Leah was a welcomed sight for Grant and after only a few seconds where they stared at each other, Alan surrendered himself to her awaiting arms. She held him as tight as she could, allowing him to grieve. What started as a few sobs, turned into full-fledged crying as he finally let his emotions catch up to him.
"It's okay. I've got you," Leah whispered to him, crying herself now, too.
Sarah looked away from Grant and Leah, turning her eyes to her husband who sat on a rock beside the breaking waves of the ocean, staring absently at the burning trees scattered in the distance. Before walking over to Ian, she motioned for Scott to come to her.
Scott nodded, then shuffled his feet through the hot sand, and made his way closer to her.
Sarah swallowed hard, then told Scott as quietly as she could, "One of them didn't make it. Her body is in there. Could you get some people to carry her to the boat?"
Scott nodded slowly. "Sure," he whispered. He waved his hand at some of the other crew members, and two men came running over to him. Scott glanced at Leah and Grant as the two continued to sob in each other's arms, then he walked into the shelter with the other men to retrieve Ellie's body.
Sarah walked towards Grant and Leah. She held up her hand and was about to say something, thinking to perhaps try and comfort the two. But then she sighed, lowered her hand, and walked past them, deciding to leave them to grieve alone. She walked towards Ian in silence, the sound of the sand crunching beneath her feet.
When she got to him, she put her hands on his shoulders. He looked up suddenly, startled, but when he saw her face he smiled and relaxed.
"Are you okay?" she asked, instantly frowning at the absurdity of the question.
Ian shook his head, "No, not really."
Sarah took her hands off his shoulders, then walked around and sat down beside him on the rock. Ian put his arm around her, pulling her closer. She sighed, laying her head against his shoulder.
"Don't do this ever again," she said with a smile.
Ian looked down at her and smiled, then looked out at the island again.
The ground beneath them started to tremble, vibrations echoing through the earth. Sarah looked down at the sand by her feet as it began to crawl over itself, shifting and turning like the surface of the ocean. She looked back at Grant and Leah, who still held each other in their arms, deaf to the world.
The low guttural growl echoed somewhere nearby, the sound mixing with the crackling fires, creating a daunting effect. Sarah looked at Ian, "Tyrannosaurus?"
Ian nodded.
"But how--"
"Go get them on the boat," Ian said. "We have to go now."
Sarah stood up from the rock, and walked over to Grant and Leah.
Ian could tell the footfalls were coming closer, but he had a good feeling the dinosaur was still far enough away that it didn't pose an immediate threat. The tyrannosaur growled again, and Ian sighed, "Some things should have simply never come to be." Then he looked to his right as Ellie was carried past him, and gently lowered on one of the benches of the boat. "And then other things . . . it would seem an injustice to the world for them to cease to be."
Ian Malcolm put his hands on his knees, then stood up. Grant and Leah walked past him, and got in the boat. Sarah jumped into the boat, and offered a helping hand to him, which Malcolm gratefully accepted as he climbed in.
With everyone in, the boat instantly rumbled to life, a plume of thick blue smoke pouring out of the engine as they pulled away from the beach.
Grant and Leah made their way to the stern of the boat, and watched as Ellie was carried through a door and brought below-deck. As the door shut, Grant let out another mournful cry.
Sarah felt a little uncomfortable around Grant with him being so distraught. She didn't want him to feel as if he were on display with everyone staring at him, so she slowly led Ian away from the rear of the boat, and towards the bridge. She looked at Scott as he carefully directed the battered boat out of the lagoon, then turned her attention back to Ian.
She saw Leah wrap her arm around Grant's shoulder, then Sarah said to Ian, "He really loved Ellie. Even after all this time being apart."
Ian nodded slowly, then whispered, "He didn't know he's the father of one of her kids."
Sarah touched her fingers to her lips. "Oh, my God."
He nodded his head, closing his eyes.
From the shore of the island, they heard the loud thunderous roar of the tyrannosaur. Ian opened his eyes, and looked out over the stern of the boat, as the island slowly drifted further and further away. On the yellow sandy shore, the imposing frame of an adult tyrannosaur stood looking out at them.
Ian tilted his head to the side, looking at the tyrannosaur as it blinked, flexing its jaw muscles as if offering a muted farewell. Then the dinosaur growled softly, lowered its head, and turned away, disappearing into the gloom of soot and ash. The island still ablaze, the tyrannosaur stood little chance of surviving for very long. Extinction was not going to be cheated again.
* * *
Malcolm looked on helplessly, as Grant sat hunched over, sobbing in Leah's arms. That's where Grant had remained since the boat left Isla Sorna two hours before. The man had suffered so much. They had all suffered through so much. But Grant, most of all, deserved the right to mourn.
Malcolm watched as Sarah made her way over to Grant and Leah, and sat down beside them trying to comfort them in any way she could.
"You guys went through hell," Scott mentioned, walking up to Malcolm.
He nodded, without looking at the man. "Indeed we did."
"If you don't mind me asking; how many died?"
Malcolm frowned, "Too many."
"You look like you came through in one piece at least."
Malcolm turned to Scott, "Looks can be deceiving." Then he walked away from the man, towards the bow of the small boat. He put his hands on the rail and took in a deep breath. The serenity of the ocean breeze caressed his face as he closed his eyes.
Sarah walked up beside him, and put her hand over his. Malcolm opened his eyes and looked at his wife.
Sarah smiled and said, "It's good to see---"
"How's Grant doing?" Malcolm interrupted. He had longed to be with Sarah for so long, but the only thing occupying his mind at the present time was Grant and the horrible events from a few hours ago.
Sarah's smile faded. "Some wounds to the heart are just too deep to heal, even with time."
Malcolm nodded.
There was a long silence between the two, then Sarah whispered, "What about you? Does your leg hurt much?"
Malcolm sighed, "It's fine." Then he shook his head, "I don't think any of us are going to be okay, though."
"Why would you say that?"
"I stand here alive, with you, my wife. And I wonder, why me? Why did I survive? Why did Ellie, or Aaron, or Martinez, or even Kaje have to die? I stand here, hurting inside, yet unable to shed a tear, as much as I want to. And I wonder how the hell any of us can ever actually be okay. We live in a world of hate, where one man with too much control, has the ability to take a group of people he has never met, and then lead them to their deaths. We live in a world, where nothing happens as you would hope it to." Malcolm turned away from the ocean view, and looked back at Grant crying softly. "And I look at Alan with so much admiration. A man who can cry, because he does not understand why. I don't understand, and I get angry. He cries. People like Alan give me hope."
"Hope?"
Malcolm turned back to Sarah, "That our species may actually not destroy ourselves, and bring upon our own extinction. There's not enough people like him in the world. And the fact that people like him have to hurt so badly, angers me."
"Of course it would anger you. It angers me, too," she added.
Malcolm sighed, "It's all just so confusing." Then he hugged her and smiled.
Sarah looked up slowly as a second and a considerably larger boat drove through the water towards them. They would now leave their boat behind, and transfer over to the more seaworthy rescue boat. She looked up at Malcolm again and said, "Let's go home."
Thanks for reading! Comments are very helpful and very much appreciated, so please don't hesitate. :)
--JPJunkee and Yvonne
11/15/2003 1:33:31 AM
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