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Jurassic Park Dawn of Retribution Stage One
By JPJunkee+Yvonne
FIRST STAGE
"We are all born mad. Some remain so."
-- Samuel Beckett --
It had been two years since the incident in Costa Rica. Two years since the chaos that had nearly claimed his life. Two years since he changed his beliefs in life. Ian Malcolm had faced fate, and had lived to tell about it again. He had cheated fate. And he had gotten away with it.
Now, Malcolm lived a somewhat normal life with his wife Sarah and his daughter, Kelly, who was graduating from college in a week. Life was good, and Ian Malcolm finally felt that he held the right to smile.
He had seen much chaos in his days, and had seen far too much death. And always, he had somehow lived through it all. People would think that he must have survivors guilt, or something.
But, Malcolm carried no guilt with him. He simply went on with his life, after all the incidents. And along the way, he tried to stay away from the chaos, and ignore all the implications of wrong doing. Now, Ian Malcolm was older, wiser, and a little more timid than he once was. At fifty-two, he was beginning to show the first signs of age catching up with him.
Ian smiled as he walked out of his bedroom and strolled down the staircase to his kitchen. He was not surprised to see Sarah there already, drinking coffee and reading the morning newspaper. He passed her, and sighed as he poured himself a cup as well. Then, he sat down beside her at the breakfast bar, and began to drink the hot coffee. He winced once he had swallowed the hot liquid. Sarah always had been bad at making coffee. He had once joked that he had pondered over not proposing to her, because of her coffee. Sarah must have caught him wincing out of the corner of her eye, "Shut up, it's not that bad."
Ian shrugged and smiled, "It's not that good, either."
Sarah sighed and turned the page of her newspaper. Sarah had not been at a digsite for sometime now. Instead, she had been at home writing another book, this one all about large carnivores. The book told about how the larger creatures lived and how they coexisted. Malcolm had to admit, her theories intrigued him, and held his interest with dinosaurs.
Today, Malcolm had time to blow. He really didn't have anything to do. He was thinking about going to visit Kelly, but she didn't always appreciate him coming to see her without it being planned (usually, it was because he would always lecture her on how messy she had kept her apartment. Other times, it was because she had a boy over. Ian wasn't always so pleasant on those visits). Ian asked Sarah what she had planned for the day.
Sarah's eyebrows shot upwards, "Oh, I forgot to tell you, I'm going to be gone all day!"
Ian wasn't all too surprised, "Oh? Where to?"
"I'm going to discuss my new theories with Alan Grant, and he wanted to show me one of his new finds that's being kept in a museum downtown. You interested in coming? I'm sure he wouldn't mind."
Ian smiled, "No, I'm sure he wouldn't. But, the whole thing doesn't sound too interesting to me."
"Oh, come on. You like, Alan. Besides, what else do you have going today?"
"I need to go to the University and talk about the next semester with Dr. Kendall." Ian was lying, but in a way it was true. He did need to have a discussion with Kendall. He'd been planning to have one for months, but just never got around to it. However, he really had no intention of talking with Kendall or anyone at the University today.
Sarah shrugged, "Fine, your loss. I might not be home till tomorrow, just so you know."
Malcolm's eyes narrowed, "Will you be staying at Grant's place?"
Sarah looked Ian in the eyes, "No, Ian. You worry too much. You don't trust your wife? Or Alan?"
"Oh, I trust Alan, it's you I'm not too sure about." Malcolm smiled when he saw her surprised reaction.
"Oh, shut up. I'll stay at a hotel. Either way, you know that Alan has never been interested in me, in that way."
"Can't imagine why."
Sarah ignored him, "You think he's still with that Owens woman?"
"You mean, Leah."
"Yeah, her."
"How would I know?"
"How long has it been since you spoke with Alan?"
Ian sighed, "I haven't seen or spoken to him, since he left the hospital, two years ago."
"Why not?"
"Because I haven't," Ian shot back, and rose from his seat. He left the coffee mug on the table and announced on his way out of the kitchen, "Have fun talking about your lizards, Sarah. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Where are you going?" Sarah asked.
"Out."
"Where?"
"I don't know," Malcolm said, as he left the house.
Malcolm shook his head and walked to his car. The car was his old black Camaro. He had quickly gotten it repaired after the little accident in San Diego, all those years ago. He opened the car door and let out a long sigh as he got into the driver's seat.
He just sat there for a moment, not doing anything. His hands were gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. Why was he acting like this? He had no real reason to be angry. So why?
Malcolm shook his head again, and looked into the rearview mirror. He turned it, so that he could see himself. The face that stared back at him was not what it once had been. He looked tired and old. His temples were beginning to gray, and his eyes looked faded and weary.
"You look like shit, old man," Ian said to his reflection as he started the car and began to drive away.
But, where was he going, without even knowing the way?
* * *
Stirring in her sleep, Leah Owens was having yet another nightmare. The fight for a decent night's sleep had not been going in her favor, as the nightmares were getting increasingly worse. Little flashes of what had happened to her in Costa Rica would continually invade her thoughts, even when she was awake. Right now, though, the nightmare was taking an entirely new direction.
She was in a hallway, surrounded by bits and pieces of what could only be described as human parts. In her nightmares, she had been in this hallway numerous times, but this time there was something very, very different about it. Something that horrified her more than usual. Forcing herself to look closer, she saw the most grotesque images of her life. Much more grotesque than other times because this time, the badly mutilated people were familiar to her. There was the disfigured head of Ian Malcolm on the floor, all by itself, with no body anywhere in the vicinity. There were the remains of a man's arm, lying on the floor, in a puddle of fresh blood . . . with the hand of the arm tightly holding a camera. Realizing it was Aaron, she put a hand to her face, trying to stifle the scream that was about to erupt from her shaking body. Never, in the whole year after the incident, had she ever dreamt about such detailed images of the people she knew and/or cared about. Never.
Struggling to find a way out of the hallway . . . and out of the nightmare . . . Leah quickly made it to a door on the opposite side of the hallway. She opened it. Trying to run through the opening, she ran head-on into someone. She looked up. Dodgson was blocking her way, and violently pushed her back into the hallway. She found herself screaming "YOU'RE DEAD!", but it didn't affect his actions in any way. He smiled slyly and began to close the door. She grabbed for the handle and tried with all her might, to stop the door from closing. Pulling, she glanced into Dodgson's eyes. "Go join the others," he said in a snake-like whisper. As if in slow motion, the shadow of something loomed over her from behind and she saw the body of something out of the prehistoric past. She recognized it as one of the dinosaurs that Grant had identified in Costa Rica. A carnotaurus. Defying all possibilities, the very large dinosaur was standing in the hallway, glaring at her. It was so close, that she could feel its hot breath hitting her, its drool lingering just under its powerful jaws. Leah let out a scream as the beast charged toward her. She turned to run, but tripped on a bloody body part and slid to the floor, hitting the wall.
She attempted to get up, but kept slipping on the blood that was splattered all over the floor. Making one last attempt, she got on her hands and knees and crawled toward the wall. Her hands pressing against bare flesh from the scattered body parts, she closed her eyes and prayed to wake up.
Everything went quiet. Everything went still. There was no longer the stench of death in the air. No longer anything. She opened her eyes, hoping that the nightmare had stopped.
It hadn't. She was still in the hallway. Still on the floor. She looked up and saw the giant demon monster lean its head down, its jaws getting closer and closer. Screaming again, she turned her head and began to crawl to the wall again. That's when she noticed something on the floor, in front of her. She had put her hand in a giant pool of blood. The blood was coming from the torso and neck of one of the dismembered bodies. She stared at the body, torn to bits. It only vaguely resembled a human being. The head itself was gone and the body, from the hips down, was missing. Disgusting pieces of shredded viscera was sprawled out across the floor. It took only a fraction of a second to realize this was Alan Grant. She could tell by the blood stained clothes.
Screaming in terror, Leah jumped up from under the covers. In her fear, she accidently toppled over the lamp, sitting on the table, just next to the bed. The lamp had inadvertently turned on, casting an eerie shadow on the walls of the bedroom. After catching her breath, Leah slowly crawled out of bed, her nightgown glistening with perspiration in the light of the room. Shivering, she grabbed a housecoat and headed out of the room, leaving the lamp where it was.
The rest of the house was dark and foreboding. She glanced at the clock in the kitchen. It was only 10:00PM. Not really all that late. Looking around the room, she was torn between what to do. After a few minutes of sitting on a kitchen chair, shaking uncontrollably, she decided that she wouldn't get any better. She got up and swiftly walked to the phone, making sure that there wasn't some sort of prehistoric creature in any of the adjoining rooms. She used speed-dial and a number used quite often was called.
"Hello?"
"Alan," was all Leah could manage to say. She hadn't tried to talk yet after the nightmare, and it was very difficult to speak suddenly.
"Another nightmare?" He asked, very concerned.
"Yes," she answered, starting to cry a little bit.
"I'll be right home."
Leah frowned. He had been working late for the last week and a half, studying and indexing some sort of fossils, for the local museum in Montana. She didn't really want him to come running home because of another stupid dream.
"No, no. It's okay. I'm not even sure why I called you. It was stupid. I'm sorry."
"I'll be there in ten minutes."
Leah became slightly less nervous. She sat down in the same chair from a few minutes ago, and bundled up her housecoat to try and keep warm.
"Thank you," she whispered, clearly happy that the only person that could possibly help was coming home.
* * *
The old car roared down the street. Inside, Ian Malcolm gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. His eyes stared straight ahead. His mind was focused.
But what it was focused on, he wasn't sure. Something in the back of his mind, was tugging at his sanity, and he was beginning to fall.
Malcolm had been this way for a while now. He'd lost his love for most things, and had acquired a constant distaste for life in general. At times, he and Sarah had fights that would last for days. Sarah usually hadn't done anything wrong. Routinely it was all because of Ian and his actions.
And he knew it.
He was honestly quite surprised that Sarah hadn't ever shown the notion of leaving him. But, maybe he only felt that way, because he'd been divorced so many times before. Sarah was different, he reminded himself. She won't leave you because you're having a hard time in life lately. Things will get better.
A faint smile appeared on Ian's face. Things wouldn't get better, and he knew it. It'd always been like this. Always. Except now, it had gotten worse. Malcolm hated the world. It was as simple as that.
He hated it for all the pain is caused. He hated it for all the problems it carried. He hated it because human beings still lived on it.
Malcolm was a rarity. Not many people would view the world the way he did, and remain clinically sane. He saw the world for what it was, an undeveloped mass of distorted reality and a nearsighted humanity.
Why was he thinking about all of this now?
Malcolm shook his head in disgust as he turned a corner and drove past three kids in their early teens smoking marijuana. Right on the side of the street! Was he the only one that saw this? Was he the only one that cared if the human race went down the shitter?
It sure as hell seemed like it.
Malcolm gave the teens a dirty look, and they returned the look, one of them grabbing for something in his jacket pocket. Malcolm drove on.
Where was he even going?
He had no idea.
Sometimes, it just felt good to get outside and drive. Don't go anywhere, just drive. Out in the country was the best. There wasn't as much reality there. There weren't as many reminders there.
But, he wasn't near the country now. And he didn't feel like driving. He just felt like getting away. How? Why? Where to?
He didn't know. That was the point. He wasn't sure anymore. He wasn't sure about anything. Everything was clouded now. Everything was hazy.
Ian spotted a bar down the street and decided that he could use a drink. He sighed as he pulled into the parking lot and stepped out of the car.
He walked up to the doors of the small bar. The doors were eloquent looking, with golden handles and beautiful glass. He had never been to this bar before, so he wasn't sure of what to expect. Slowly, he opened the door, and walked in.
Inside, it was much different. The room was cloaked in thick cigarette smoke. And the floor was sticky, with what Ian hoped was just beer. Gone was the gold from the door, now replaced by dark red colors covering everything. In the background, sat the only customer. A muscular man smoking a cigar, and wearing a top hat.
The bartender was fat and hairy. He wore a stained white shirt and had shiny black hair that was slicked backwards. Ian took in a big breath, as he walked up to the bar, and sat on one of the uncomfortable stools that seemed to be from the sixties.
"Afternoon, stranger," said the bartender in a low gruff voice, "What can I get ya?"
Malcolm coughed from the smoke in the room and managed to reply, "Whatever's been approved by the health inspectors."
The man gave a hearty laugh, and made Malcolm a large mug of a maroon beer.
Ian eyed the drink suspiciously, "Uh, what is this?"
The man smiled, "It's what's been approved, mister."
Malcolm almost laughed out loud when the thought that this was the only approved drink passed through his mind. He took the big mug and began to drink it.
The taste was odd, but it was good. He sighed as he attempted to relax on the hard stool.
The door to the bar opened and a man, hidden by the bad lighting, stepped inside. To further hide his identity, the muscular man wore a gray fedora, pulled down over his face. Slowly, he walked up to the bar, taking care to stand back a little to the left of Malcolm's stool. When the man spoke, his voice was deep and a little raspy, "Beer."
The bartender nodded, then said, "What kind of beer?"
"Does it matter? Just give me a damn beer, okay?" The man with the hat snapped. The bartender raised his hands slowly, then handed the man a cold Budweiser. The man nodded, and was about to turn away from the bar, when he noticed Malcolm turned around, staring at him. "You got a problem?"
Malcolm smiled, "Oh no, no problem. I was just. . . . admiring your people skills."
The man curled his lip, but didn't say a word. He cracked his knuckles in an alarmingly grotesque way, and moved to one of the tables in the back.
"Charming," Malcolm muttered.
The bartender was drying a different mug, when he asked, "So, what brings you here, stranger?"
Malcolm rested his elbow on the bar, and then his face in his hand. He would probably look drunk to anyone who didn't know he had only had two sips of his first beer. "Oh, I don't know. . . .and I really don't feel like sharing with you."
The man smiled and nodded, "You're one of those kind of people, eh? Yeah, okay, I'll let ya be."
"One of those kinds of people?"
"You know, the kind that got more problems in their life than they have enjoyments."
"I'm not like that," Malcolm said.
"You act like it."
"Umm, are you a psychiatrist? No? Then what makes you think you can analyze me, huh?"
The man laughed, "Well, you're a fast one. And a smart one, I reckon."
"You 'reckon'?"
The bartender laughed again, "And you've got an attitude too. How fun!"
Malcolm shook his head, and got up from the stool. He then walked to the door, leading outside.
"Hey, aren't you gonna finish your drink?" The bartender called after him.
"No," Malcolm said as he opened the door.
"Well, at least pay for what you drank!"
"No, you don't deserve it."
The bartender's face went red, "Don't deserve it, my ass!"
Malcolm left the building and casually walked to his car.
The bartender, infuriated that Malcolm refused to pay, got out from behind the bar and rushed to the door. But, he was intercepted by the different customer who had been sitting in the background. The muscular customer handed the bartender a twenty-dollar bill, and said in a calm voice, "This is for me and him."
The bartender took the money, and nodded, obviously satisfied.
Then the muscular man left the bar and walked into the parking lot. He stepped into the bright sunlight of the afternoon and winced as he covered his eyes. Beside him, Malcolm's car backed out of its parking space and drove off.
The man frowned as he rushed to his own vehicle, a big black Dodge Durango. He got into the driver's seat, quickly pulled out and gave pursuit of Malcolm's car.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ian Malcolm rounded another corner, nearly hitting the curb as he did so. He was driving down a bleak looking road, riddled with potholes. He grimaced as he drove over the many bumps and made his way onto more level road. Ahead of him, he saw the local library. What the hell, he thought, I might as well waste my time there than driving.
He pulled into the library's parking lot and stepped out of his car. He put his hands into his black jacket as he made his way to the entrance of the library. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed another man walking in stride a couple yards beside him to his right. He was dimly aware then, that there was another man walking beside him to his left.
Malcolm stopped walking. So did the other men. Malcolm turned to the first man, and looked at him for really the first time. The man was Spanish. He wore an expensive suit and tie. The man looked at Malcolm and walked towards him saying, "Dr. Ian Malcolm?"
Malcolm wasn't sure how he should respond to that but he said," Uh, yes that's me. What is this?"
The first man took out his wallet, and showed his ID to Malcolm. It was in another language that Malcolm couldn't quite read, but the man explained, "We're from the Costa Rica Secret Service, we'd like to have a word with you."
Malcolm shook his head and continued to walk to the library, "Oh, I see. Costa Rica -- dinosaurs -- yeah I get it. And no thank you, I've already told you people everything I know."
"It's about your personal safety, Dr. Malcolm. It's about your families safety."
Malcolm stopped walking and turned around. "What's going on?", he demanded.
The second man approached Ian slowly, "There is reason to believe that the lives of those who survived the incident on Isla Nublar may be in danger."
"Why, has the paparazzi -- uh -- gained another new right that allows them free access into my house?"
"No, Dr. Malcolm, nothing like that."
"Then tell me what the hell it is!" Malcolm was growing more and more upset by the second.
"Perhaps you should come with us, we'll discuss it in a safer location," the first man grabbed Malcolm's arm, and motioned for Ian to follow him.
"Get your paws off of me, and tell what the hell is going on! If my family's in danger, I want to know why." Malcolm was going from angry to worried very quickly now.
"You may be endangering your family, Dr. Malcolm. We have reason to believe that there will be an assassination attempt on your life."
Malcolm laughed, "Uh, me being assassinated?"
"And there's more."
"Uh, more you say? More than just an assassination? Oh, this is rich!"
"Please doctor, come with us."
Malcolm shook his head, but allowed the two men to guide him to their awaiting cars. Malcolm didn't like this situation, but he allowed himself to go along with it. After a brief discussion, Malcolm and the Costa Ricans drove away together.
As they left, the doors of the library parted, and a very angry Brock Larson stepped out into the sun again. He removed his hat, as he approached his Durango, cursing as he did. He missed this opportunity, but he wouldn't miss the next. He glanced at his watch and decided he could still make the late night flight.
* * *
Ellie Degler brought the knife down again and again. The harsh aroma of the onion almost brought tears to her eyes, as she diced it into tiny pieces. Today, was a special day for Ellie and her husband, Mark.
They both lived busy lives. Sometimes, Mark would be away on a business trip for more than a week. Ellie, too, was a busy person, and their two children didn't exactly make life any easier for either of them. That's why today was special.
Today was the first day of their one week vacation. The vacation was also partly work-related to Ellie, since she was going to see Alan Grant about some research for one of her books. She hadn't seen him in awhile, and was kind of excited to surprise him. The kids were at Ellie's mother's house for the week, so with the exception of seeing Alan Grant for about a half day or so, the week was all about them.
Ellie poured the diced onions into the soup that she was cooking on the stove of the hotel suite, that they had rented for the night. She stirred the soup and listened as Mark walked into the kitchen area.
"Is it going to be much longer before dinner?" He asked, walking up behind her.
Ellie laughed softly, "Yes, I haven't really even started on dinner yet, just the soup."
"So, I've got a little time to get some things done first then?"
"Sure. Like what?"
"Just some stuff in the car. Maybe clean it up a little. You're a very messy traveler," he joked. After he got the desired smile from her, he continued, "So, call me when dinner's ready."
Ellie smiled, "Okay."
Mark left the kitchen, and went through the front door, walking toward the car. It was a ground floor corner suite, and the car was parked around the side, away from the door.
Ellie opened the refrigerator and took out a Pepsi. The phone on the table began to ring. Ellie opened the soft drink and stared at the phone, wondering who could possibly know where to find her. She shrugged and answered it.
"Hello," Ellie said.
"Ellie? Dr. Ellie Degler?" said the voice on the other line. The voice sounded thin and old. She thought she may recognize it, but she wasn't sure.
"Yes, this is her. May I ask who's calling?"
"Oh thank God, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to catch you. This is John Hammond."
Ellie was surprised, to say the least. The last time she had spoken with Hammond was over a year ago, down in Costa Rica. "What can I do for you, John?"
"Now Ellie, I want you to listen, and listen good. Do you remember Dr. Gerry Harding, from Isla Nublar? I believe you had spoken to him while on the tour."
Ellie remembered all of Isla Nublar far more than she wanted to. "Yes, I remember him."
"Dr. Harding has been murdered, Ellie. Two other lab technicians from Nublar have as well."
Ellie's face turned from surprise to concern, "I'm sorry to hear that John, but what has that got to do with me?"
"It doesn't end there, Ellie," Hammond said. "Yesterday, one of the board members of InGen was killed while he slept. And my grandson, Tim. . . . he just escaped death when they came for him after he had gotten out of school."
"What are you saying, John?" Ellie demanded, rather than asked.
"Your life is in danger. As is everyone else that was involved with the park on Nublar. I don't know all the facts yet, but it does seem that the survivors of Jurassic Park are being targeted."
Fear washed over Ellie, "Why? What is going on?"
"I don't know, but I promise that once I do, I will contact you." Hammond's voice was calming, he was trying not to alarm her. "But, I advise, that you leave there, and get as far away as possible. Don't tell anyone where you're going. You aren't safe at home anymore, Ellie, so don't go back there. You must flee. I'm sorry. Come to my estate, perhaps my protection will be enough, but I am not sure."
"John, I don't know what to say---"
"Then don't say anything, just go! I do not wish to have the guilt of your death on my conscious, as well."
"How did you find me? Who is doing this?"
A loud bang echoed through the suite behind Ellie. She quickly spun around and peered out the door of the kitchen. She saw three men standing in the middle of the living room area. They were dressed entirely in black and wore sunglasses over their eyes and leather gloves on their hands. The tallest man in the middle wore a black hat, much like the hat that members of the Mafia would wear.
"Oh my God," Ellie whispered as she saw the middle man take out a pistol with a silencer on the muzzle. Ellie kept low, and crept away from the kitchen door. She whispered into the phone, "John, they're here."
John whispered into the phone, barely audible, "Go now, Ellie. Get in your car and go."
Without another word, Ellie placed the phone on the floor, crept out of the kitchen and toward the back door. She stood up once she got out of the suite and into the makeshift alley.
She heard a bang behind her, and spun around.
It was the screen door closing. She cursed herself for not being more careful. The men would know where to go now.
She ran for the side of the suite, where Mark and the car were hopefully still waiting. She heard the screen door open, and then slam shut behind her. The men were close.
She rounded the corner and ran up to Mark. "Do you have the keys!?" She screamed to him.
Mark looked at her strangely, "They're on the car seat."
"Get in the car!" She screamed as she quickly threw open the door and got into the driver's seat.
"What's going on?" Mark asked, as he slowly made his way over to the car. He had been coming back from throwing some garbage away in the nearby dumpster.
"Hurry up! They're coming!" She screamed, as she frantically fumbled with the car keys on the seat, putting them into the ignition.
Mark hurried a little bit, just from her nervousness, but was in no true hurry. He was confused.
"Mark, get in the car!"
He nodded and made his way around to the passenger side door of the car. The men rounded the same corner that Ellie had, seconds before. The man with the hat was in front.
"Who are you?" Mark demanded, as he stood beside the door to the car.
Ellie whispered frantically for him to get in the car, but Mark either did not hear her, or did not care.
The man with the hat held up his gun and aimed it at the unarmed man. Mark held up his hands in surrender, but the man showed no mercy.
Ellie heard three tiny pings, as the man pulled the trigger. Then, there was no noise. Ellie looked up at Mark through the window. He looked fine from the side. Then, he staggered and fell against the window. Ellie now saw three bullet holes in his chest. Mark looked in at her and frowned. Then, his eyes closed and he fell away the window.
Ellie screamed hysterically. And put the car in drive.
The man ran towards the car, but he was too late. Ellie had already sped away from the curb, screaming as she drove.
The man stood there motionless. He looked back down at Mark and saw that the man was still breathing. He knelt down, pressed the gun against Mark's head, then pulled the trigger.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The gunman walked back into the kitchen, from the back door. One of the other men walked up to him pointing at the phone on the ground.
"Someone's still on the other line," the man informed him.
The man with the hat nodded then walked over to the phone on the ground. He picked it up, and listened; he heard a faint breathing, a labored breathing.
"Greetings," said the man. His voice was deep and a little bit raspy.
The voice on the other line gave a gasp, he hadn't expected a new voice to speak to him. "Who are you? Why are you doing this?"
The gunman smiled, "Ah, if it isn't John Hammond. Trying to warn the good Doctor before I came for her, were you? Now that's not nice, in fact I'd say that's cheating."
"Who are you?" John repeated.
"Come on now, if I told you that, the game would be over. I'm just getting warmed up."
"I know your voice," Hammond said.
"Really? I'm surprised you would, to be honest. I mean, I thought you were just an ignorant old bastard, John . . . but still, you know my voice. But what is my name?"
John didn't say anything.
The man gave a sinister laugh and said, "Yeah, you don't remember the little people, do you John? You don't remember the people that made your dream a reality. You were just blinded by the dollar signs, you dumb f---"
"What you are doing is not right! You won't get away with it!" John interrupted. The sudden shout surprised the gunman. But, then the man laughed as he heard John coughing.
"Not right? Was what happened to me, right?" The man yelled.
"I don't even know who you are!"
"Oh yes you do. You just don't remember, old man. But, you'll remember soon enough." Then the man pressed a button on the phone and turned it off.
The other two men walked up to him. One of them, a skinny man with a worn and tired looking face, said, "We need to leave now, we've lingered too long already."
The gunman nodded. He turned toward the other man, a short bald man with a goatee on his chin, "Mr. McCarney, go outside and get the car ready. Griffin and I are going to dispose of Mark Degler's body."
McCarney nodded, "Yes sir, Mr. Larson."
After picking up Mark's body and stuffing it into that same nearby dumpster that Mark had used earlier, Larson and Griffin got into the awaiting black Dodge Durango, and drove off.
Driving in the direction of the Alan Grant's dig site.
Comments are appreciated!
--JPJunkee and Yvonne
6/5/2003 2:05:53 AM
(Updated: 6/5/2003 2:06:38 AM)
(Updated: 6/5/2003 2:10:12 AM)
(Updated: 6/6/2003 1:18:45 AM)
(Updated: 8/11/2003 12:21:11 AM)
Comment on this fan fiction!
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