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Jurassic Park Dawn of Retribution Stage Seventeen
By JPJunkee+Yvonne
SEVENTEENTH STAGE
"We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower
that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense
unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every
language is silent and holds its peace in impotence."
-- Joseph Roux --
The weight of Malcolm was quickly becoming too much for Leah to try and move. Her back burned from the strain she put on it, and her hands that were gripping Malcolm's clothing were beginning to grow weak. She had been feeding off a steady stream of adrenaline, but now she felt like she had nothing left.
She looked around her, and saw the faceless humans running in every direction, shooting impulsively at the raptors that swarmed all-around them from all sides. She tripped on a rock and fell over, her knee scraping against a rough rock as she lost grip on Malcolm. More out of frustration than from pain, twin tears rolled down her hot cheeks.
Leah moved over to Malcolm and began to shake him slightly, trying to bring him back to consciousness. "Wake up, Ian. Come on, wake up." She loomed over him, clapping her hands in front of his face. She was sure the actions probably put her at risk of being singled out by one of the raptors, but she couldn't move Malcolm on her own anymore.
Malcolm never awoke from his stupor.
All of her energy drained from her body, Leah looked up slowly from his limp body. Amidst the anarchy and turmoil, she could see Grant running towards her.
Leah smiled, brushing a strand of her blowing hair from her face.
Her smile faded when she saw the two raptors appear out of the swirling mix of fog and dust behind Grant.
A thousand thoughts and words passed through her head at that moment, she tried to shout out a warning to Grant, but was only able to choke out his name in a raspy voice. Trying to stand, she found her legs to be too weak to support her body. She simply stared as the voracious predators closed in.
As Grant neared her, he must have caught sight of her terrified eyes for his pace faltered some, and he made a fleeting glance over his shoulder. He saw the raptors and nearly lost his footing in the loose rocks, but still he ran. He looked back to Leah, she could see his eyes of fear -- no not fear, but rather desperation, like he had given up all hope.
Leah swallowed hard, too scared to keep watching and yet too horrified to possibly look away.
One of the raptors was almost upon him now. Shrieking, it spread its sickle clawed arms wide, then leapt into the air at his back. Leah's heart stopped in that instant.
With a loud gruff roar, the gigantic frame of the ptera flew into view. The outstretched talons that hung below the body of the massive winged creature stabbed into the leaping raptor's neck and tail. Then in three thrusts of its long wings it went high into the air again, carrying the screaming raptor away in its grasp.
The sudden gust of air caused by the ptera's wings pushed Grant off his feet, sending him sprawling onto his chest. He slid five feet across the ground before he finally came to a halt at a pair of rocks near Leah and Malcolm. The fall sent a sudden pang of pain from his hand and then up his arm.
Leah watched as the second raptor stared up at its companion being hauled off, then it switched its gaze to Grant, and slowly began to make its way towards him. Leah tried reaching out for him, wishing to draw him closer in what was likely to be their final moments.
The raptor was just ten feet away from Grant now, as he slowly crawled towards Leah and Malcolm, putting as much distance between himself and the dinosaur as possible. The pain in his hand slowed his progress some, but he was adamant to get as close to Leah as he could manage.
Growling, the raptor lowered its head to the ground, raising its tail into the air. Its razor sharp talons dug into the dirt as it prepared to pounce.
Leah stretched out with her right arm, grabbing Grant by his shirt collar and pulling him closer. Laying over Malcolm's chest, Leah put her arm around Grant's neck and shoulders, placing her head on his as she began to sob, waiting for the end to finally come to them both. She felt Grant's hand make its way to hers, the warmth of his touch soothed her but did not help abolish the overcoming feeling of dread and helplessness.
With a snap of bones against the hard earth, the raptor that was previously taken into the skies, was dropped down on its head, landing to the left of the raptor before Leah and Grant. The battered raptor bounced on the ground from the fall, then it finally lay still.
The living raptor hesitated. Looking away from the humans, the raptor stared at its fallen counterpart, its eyes narrowing to a tiny slit, hissing quietly.
There was a sudden blast of air, sending dust and small rocks everywhere. Leah and Grant shielded their eyes. Meanwhile, the raptor turned about-face, snarling as a bloodstained ptera came hovering down to the ground beside it.
The winged animal gently landed on the ground, then craned its neck towards the raptor and shrieked loudly. The raptor jumped backwards, baring its jagged teeth at its opposition, and swiping its arms back and forth to keep the ptera away.
The two prehistoric monsters stared each other down, for what seemed like an eternity to Leah. Then with a screech, the raptor pounced at the grounded ptera.
A second ptera flew down from the sky, gliding right over Leah's head, the beast was so close she could have reached up to touch it. In a flash, the ptera had reached the raptor, its talons grasping onto its body, and then driving it into the dirt. The raptor screamed, kicking at its attacker as the ptera started stabbing into its body with its long pointed beak.
The other ptera looked away from the raptor, staring down at Leah and Grant with its small doll like eyes. Leah gasped when the eyes met with her own. She was sure the ptera would try to attack with them on the ground, but just when the thought passed into her mind, she heard the sound of the raptors roaring and cawing in unison, as they ran together and made for a quick retreat.
The ptera looked away from Leah and Grant. Preferring moving targets, it roared and took to the air again. Then, it began flying above, trying to attack the fleeing dinosaurs below.
As soon as the ptera had taken to the air, Grant was getting to his feet, pulling Leah up with him. The two reached down, each grabbing one of Malcolm's limp hands, and then began to drag him towards Ellie and the cave.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Griffin's hoarse screams were hardly audible over the other war cries and gunshots. But Larson had a good idea as to which direction Griffin's voice was coming from. He found himself moving swiftly amongst the frenzied action all around him, closing in on the origin of Griffin's calls for help.
Soon enough, he had found his way to a spot where large boulders had fallen at the foot of the volcano. Four particular large rocks were literally covered with raptors. The dinosaurs fought madly to try and find a way into the rocks, or take whatever was hiding in there, out. Larson almost turned away from the rocks but stopped when he heard Griffin's screams again, coming clearly from within the rocks.
He paused for a moment, then smiled, whispering, "Good luck finding yourself a way out of this one, buddy."
Larson turned away from the rocks, and started off in the opposite direction.
An ear piercing shriek, like nothing else he had heard in all his time on the island, sounded somewhere behind him. Larson's eyes went wide, as he turned around just in time to see three enormous pteras majestically descend towards the rocks, and pluck three of the four raptors straight up into the air.
Larson blinked hard, not believing his eyes. "Well I'll be damned."
He watched as the last remaining raptor hopped down from its place on the rocks, then quickly and silently ran away.
Larson looked up, watching as the three pteras joined with others of their kind and began dive-bombing raptors and people everywhere.
Then he heard Griffin moan loudly.
Larson sighed, then walked towards the rocks that doubled as Griffin's place of refuge. As he approached, he saw Griffin's filthy hand reach out from a small opening, clawing at the dirt as he tried to crawl out.
Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, Larson reached down and helped pull Griffin from the rocks. Griffin's face was bright red and covered in a thick layer of sweat and saliva that had dripped down from the raptor's above. The man had an ungodly stench all about him, which caused Larson to take a few steps back.
Griffin got to his feet, quickly wiping as much dust and dinosaur saliva off of him as he could, then picked up his rifle off the ground. He looked at Larson for a moment, then averted his gaze beyond him to where the death was continuing to unfold everywhere.
Larson put his rifle back into his hands, checked his ammo, then started running away from Griffin.
Griffin remained motionless for a moment, then quickly followed after him, catching up. He fell in line behind Larson, running behind him as they made their way past the rocks at the bottom of the volcano. They were trying to keep as much distance from the action as they could.
Griffin looked to his left, gasping when he saw one of the raptors jump literally ten feet into the air, latching onto one of the pteras and then crashing back down to earth.
A woman screamed.
He looked away from the thrashing ptera as the raptor started to rip its hind claws into its stomach. Following the screams, his eyes instantly landed upon Grant and Leah as they struggled to drag Malcolm across the battlefield. They were making progress, though, and their gaze was fixed on a certain place somewhere ahead of them.
Griffin followed their gaze to a dark opening in the face of the volcano, a cave. And standing at the entrance of the cave, her hair matted to her sweaty forehead, was Dr. Degler. She stood there for a moment, her hands on the side of the cave's entrance, then she walked backwards, diminishing into the shadows.
Griffin patted Larson's shoulder, then pointed at the cave. It could work as a place of safety.
Larson nodded his head, looking from the cave, and out to the chaos around them. He saw Grant and Leah, and realized that they too were making their way to the cave. Larson smiled, then doubled his pace, jumping over rock and stone as he ran to the small cave.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
McCarney watched in awe as the dinosaurs he had been fighting for his life against were so effortlessly herded away by the flying creatures above. All around him, he was surrounded by death, but he had survived. Smiling despite the horrors before his eyes, McCarney shifted his rifle into his other hand, shaking off his tired right hand.
Before he had any time to react, the silent ptera dove down at him from behind. Its clawed feet sliced into his back, but made no attempt to pick him up from the ground. McCarney screamed, dropping the rifle, and falling to the ground, landing on his side.
Frantically, he reached his hands to his back, feeling for where the ptera had attacked him. His hand brushed up against something wet and flaccid, it took a moment for him to realize it was his skin sliced open, and he was feeling the slimy muscle tissue from below.
He brought his hand back in front of his face, staring at the blood that now covered his fingers. "Oh God," McCarney gagged, trying to stand so he could vomit, but the pain in his back prevented him from sitting up.
He heard the calls of the pteras above, and strained his eyes to see one of them banking to its right and flying towards him.
"Shit, shit, shit," he repeated over and over again. Keeping his eyes on the ptera, he reached out for his rifle laying near his side. Picking it up from the dirt, he unevenly aimed up at the ptera.
He rolled onto his back, grimacing from the pain, and then started shooting at the flying creature. Round after round missed the ptera, until finally he heard the disheartening clicking sound of the empty clip.
Breathing hard, McCarney threw his rifle aside, then pulled his hunting knife from its sheath on his waist. His only hope now was to try and rip into its throat when it came close enough. He was near tears now, simply waiting for the ptera to land on his immobilized body.
The clawed feet appeared, the individual toes parting. McCarney was oddly reminded of the nature television shows with bald eagles diving to the surface of water with outstretched talons, and then picking a hidden fish straight out of the dark blue. Just a really big bird, he thought, and I'm just another big fucking fish.
In a flash, the ptera had landed on him, the clawed feet instantly finding his flesh. The sharp talons stabbed into his soft belly, slicing through some of his internal organs.
McCarney screamed, then coughed up a splatter of blood. The pain was almost so numbing, so intense, that he nearly dropped the knife.
Blood now covering most his entire upper body, he snarled and slashed at the ptera. The knife cut into its exposed chest, causing the ptera to screech. He brought the bloody knife out of its chest, then moved to stab at it again.
Before he ever could, the ptera reared its head back, then snapped it forward again. The end of its pointed beak smashed through the front of McCarney's skull, ending his life instantly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the afternoon sun, the bodies of the dead seemed as if they were already beginning to take on the stale smell of death. Larson jumped over a dead man that had been ripped open across the belly, his entrails spilled out in a stinking mess over his legs and chest.
As Larson's feet came back down from his jump, he slipped on the bloody rocks, falling on his back, next to the dead man. The air was knocked out of his lungs, as he rolled over onto his side, rubbing the small of his back. When he rolled over, he found himself staring eye to eye with the carcass. The skin was pale, with blood splattered across the open mouth and chin. The blank eyes had long since rolled back into the top of the man's head. Larson frowned, tilting his head to the side when he realized he didn't recognize this man at all.
Griffin reached down and grabbed Larson's arm, then pulled him back to his feet.
"You okay?" Griffin asked. Once Larson was standing again, Griffin looked away from him and started looking in every direction, wary of an attack.
"I'm fine," Larson said, still looking down at the dead stranger at his feet. He sighed, then without another word, started running towards the cave again.
Griffin was about to continue after him, when he heard the familiar screams of McCarney coming somewhere behind him. Griffin turned around, and saw McCarney laying on his back, a small puddle of blood collecting beneath him. He heard Larson's feet kicking pebbles across the ground, as he slid to a sudden stop and turned towards the screams as well.
McCarney was pulling a knife from his waist now, with his rifle discarded to the side. His face was terrified and bright white in color, generating an eerie glow in the light of the sun. Suddenly, in a rapid descent from the sky, a ptera flew down, landing directly upon McCarney.
Griffin brought his rifle up, ready to shoot the bird creature off of him, but before he could ever shoot, Larson pushed his rifle back down again. Griffin frowned, looking at Larson, who simply shook his head.
The ptera on McCarney screeched, then stabbed its beak down, breaking through the man's face in a puff of blood. The ptera brought its beak out of the caved in face of McCarney, purring softly to itself. McCarney's face still projected an eerie glow, his blood splattered across it emanating a shine of red and white like blood falling on snow.
The ptera turned its long head in Griffin and Larson's direction, and for a short moment, all three simply stared at each other. Blood and brain matter dripped from the end of the creature's jaw, giving it an even more threatening appearance.
Suddenly, the ptera flapped its long wings, and flew up into the air.
Larson and Griffin didn't bother to try and take aim, instead opting to turn and flee. The cave wasn't that much further now.
Moments later, with the ptera following them from a distance, Larson ran into the cave at full speed, with Griffin hobbling not too far behind. They were able to get away from the flying creatures and Larson was still shocked to see one in the first place. Searching the cave, he spotted Ellie standing in the cave alone. Seconds later, there was another shadow, followed by a shrill shriek. Larson backed away from the entrance, not wanting to meet up with one of those things again.
Grant and Leah appeared at the entrance, dragging Malcolm behind them. Larson fingered his pistol, thinking of shooting them on the spot, but decided to talk to Grant instead.
Laughing and waiting until Grant was looking at him, Larson bantered, "I guess those things are real afterall."
Grant and Leah had moved Malcolm to the side of the cave, near Ellie. Grant was catching his breath as he stared at Larson, so he didn't respond.
Larson smiled and withdrew his pistol, walking toward Malcolm. This was as good as it was going to get, he realized. He would begin his retribution right in this cave and keep going until Grant was the last one remaining. Then with one last bullet, his life's work would be complete.
Ready to end Malcolm's life, he just happened to glance over at Ellie, who was leaning against some rocks in the corner. She had been very quiet and now he noticed that she was nursing one of her hands. The more he looked at her, the more he realized what had happened to her.
Smiling, he holstered his pistol and brushed some dust off his clothes. This was too good to be true. "Looks like one of the good doctors might have a fatal problem," he said, gesturing toward Ellie.
Grant's eyes widened as he turned toward her. She was perspiring profusely and she had a far away look in her eyes.
"Ellie?" he whispered, as he closely looked her over.
"I'm sorry," was all she said, surrendering her hidden injury, placing her hand out in front of her.
"Oh, my God," Leah said softly.
Grant could only stare in disbelief, as he was overcome by sudden grief and hopelessness. Then, Ellie slumped to the cave floor. Grant hurried to her side, holding her body in his arms.
* * *
General Aldez lifted up the thick patch of moldy vegetation, and shoved the explosive charge underneath. Then, he released the vegetation so that it would cover up the explosive. And just to be sure, he threw a couple of sticks and leaves on top of the charge, hopefully no curious dinosaur would find the charge if it was hidden so well.
Once satisfied that the charge was in place, he grabbed his radio from his waist (ha!) and pressed the talk button. "Okay, I've now placed the fifth charge at the West most part of the river. Can I get a status check of everyone else?"
There was a brief hiss of static, then someone replied, "This is Raul, I've successfully placed my charge at base camp. All ready for go here."
"This is Gomez, I'm still prepping the charge in the village, sir. Should be finishing up here at any moment."
Another long hiss of static, then, "This is Fuentes, I've placed my charge at the East end of the river. Heading back to your position now, sir."
Aldez smiled. Everything was going according to plan. "Okay good. Everyone needs to move it double time. I'm calling for chopper evac now. We'll be out of here within the hour. Aldez, out."
Aldez put his radio back, and then reached for the large satellite phone in his back pack. Pulling it out, he turned it on, and set it to the frequency of the home base, back on the main land.
There was only one man who would be communicating through that particular line. Aldez took a deep breath as he heard the voice of General Philpe Sanchose, a man of equal stature who rarely saw things Aldez's way.
"Aldez?" Sanchose grunted.
"Yes, now listen, I am just going to get straight to the point; I-- my team is requesting immediate extraction from Isla Sorna. So send choppers now. That is all." Aldez was hoping to turn off the radio right then and there, but Sanchose's voice halted him from doing so.
"What is the status of the operation?" Sanchose asked.
Aldez sighed. The one question he was hoping wouldn't be asked, but knew would be. "The disease is not contained. We have found no cure. We have met resistance in the form of some anti-cloning activists. Many of our soldiers have been lost. We are now prepping to destroy the island."
Sanchose understood. Before the mission had ever commenced, it had been decided that if the disease could not be cured, then the island would be destroyed to prevent the spreading of the disease. There was a long pause before Sanchose said, "And the American scientists? What is their condition?"
Aldez thought about that question for a moment, before finally saying, "They're presumed dead. All of them. The last known coordinates were near the northern part of the island. That was days ago, though. I strongly believe they are dead." He knew they probably had a good chance of still being alive, but how could Sanchose ever know? Aldez and his team would be air-lifted off the island, and then the explosions would start. Grant, Malcolm, Degler, and Kaje would all lose their lives in the explosion.
Sanchose grunted again. "That is not a good thing to hear. Their deaths will complicate things with the US officials. The lawsuits that will follow their deaths will be bad, and the rep that our military earns after the deaths of four civilians will be even worse."
Aldez sighed, "Yes, I know. We did what we could. But in the end it was not good enough."
"That is understandable. As for your request for extraction, I have choppers en' route as we speak. Go to the same landing zone as before. Sanchose, over and out."
The conversation had ended. Aldez turned off the phone, and put it back in his pack, then he turned around, only to see Martinez standing in his path.
"You're leaving them?" Martinez asked in a quiet voice.
"Leaving who?"
"Dr. Malcolm and the others . . . you're leaving them here to die?" Martinez asked. He couldn't believe the General would do such a thing.
"They're already dead, Sergeant Martinez," Aldez stated.
Martinez shook his head. "You don't know that for sure."
"The chances are very remote that any of them remain among the living---"
"Yeah, but you don't know for sure!" Martinez snapped. "Now, I have been following your orders for years, sir. I have stood by, and held my tongue, as you made choices that I -- or most other officers of rank -- would not ever agree with. Still, I didn't say anything. But now, you're going to leave four people here to die on this island, when you could very well save them. I'm sorry sir, but I cannot stand by that."
Aldez tilted his head to the side. "Are you questioning my command, soldier?"
"I'm questioning your sanity, General," Martinez said matter-of-factly.
Aldez's face began to glow a dark red and his nostrils flared. "You will obey my orders---"
"No, you will call central command again, and tell them that you just happened to discover that the scientists are still alive."
"Are you ordering me to do that?" Aldez asked in disbelief.
"Yes."
"Must I remind you that I outrank you?"
Martinez shook his head, "That doesn't matter."
"Oh? Why not?"
Martinez drew his pistol from its holster. "Because I have a gun pointed at your forehead. And because I promise you, that unless you call in and tell Sanchose that you made a mistake, I will shoot you."
Aldez smiled. "You think that is going to work?"
Martinez pulled the hammer back on the pistol. The clicking of the gun caused Aldez to sweat. "I know it will," Martinez said.
"And if you shoot me, what then? The other soldiers will not support you killing me. What will you do about them?"
Martinez shrugged, "Maybe I'll just have to put a bullet into each of their skulls too."
"And you call me inhumane."
"No, I call you crazy. There's a difference."
* * *
Again, Sarah found herself at the bow of the boat, staring out at the island that now loomed closer than ever before. They were nearing the southeastern part of the island, planning to dock somewhere in one of the inlets. Now, more than ever, she felt increasingly urgent to step foot on the island. She wasn't exactly sure how they ever hoped to find Ian or any of the others on an island as large as Sorna, but she could hope.
She remembered back to when she had spent time on Isla Sorna years ago. Her time on the island seemed minuscule compared to the time waiting and not knowing about Ian's condition on Sorna during these last few days. And when Sarah was on Sorna, she was in the company of others that could try to defend her. Ian and the others were now accompanied by people that probably meant them more harm than good.
Nathan Scott approached her from behind, gently draping a blanket over her shoulders.
Sarah hadn't even realized she was cold. "Thank you."
"You really should come inside. We're still about an hour out."
"We can see the island now," Sarah reminded him.
"Yes, but we aren't going to go faster than we are right now. It's still going to be about an hour."
"Where are we docking?"
"Southeastern portion of the island. There are some boats docked there and the reasoning is that the owners will return to them."
"If they're not already dead," Sarah said.
"Yes."
"That's not much of a plan, Nathan."
"It's better than just traveling the island blindly."
"I want to see these boats," Sarah said, ignoring Scott's statement.
Scott smiled and handed her the binoculars. After she had them in place he moved her body in the exact direction, "Right over there," he said.
Through the binoculars, Sarah could make out the two boats and was relieved to see that they looked to be intact. At that point, she knew Scott was probably right about going there first. They would board the two boats, trying to find out some sort of information.
"Nathan!" one of the crew members shouted, "Reynolds intercepted something on the radio!"
Scott took off running after the man and Sarah followed closely behind. Scott walked into the radio room while Sarah stood in the doorway, looking hopeful for the first time in a long time.
Joseph Reynolds was a very young looking man, probably in his early twenties. Sarah thought he had a geekish look to him.
"What did you find, Joe?" Scott asked, happy to finally get some potentially good news for a change.
Reynolds pushed his glasses up closer to his face and turned to look at his boss, "The radio sets they're using are categorized as LPI/FHSS transceivers, which are normally tough to crack, but I got a break."
Everyone in the room looked at the young man as if he just spoke to them in some rare tribal language.
"What did you find?" Scott repeated after a short pause.
Reynolds smiled and handed him some computer paper, "They passed digital traffic in the frequency-hopping mode, enabling me to determine the frequency-hopping algorithm and eavesdrop on the transmission."
Scott wasn't listening. He was reading over the paper. Sarah smiled and said, "That's wonderful, Joe. Thank you so much."
"No problem, ma'am," Reynolds announced proudly.
"According to this, everyone is presumed to be at the northern portion of the island," Scott said.
"Yes, sir," Reynolds said, nodding in agreement, since he had read it a few times already.
Scott looked up from the paper, "Did you get any more?"
"No, sir. With this type of thing, there's not usually a long window. Someone must have used the reset switch to erase the codes."
Scott stared at the man, not sure about what he just said. The fact of the matter though, was that they didn't have more to go on. "Thank you, Joe. I'll be sure to buy you a beer when we get back."
"I'm not of age, sir."
Sarah laughed. Scott handed the papers to her to peruse, and then put a hand on the young man's shoulder, "I'll buy you an apple juice, then."
"Yes, sir."
* * *
Gently as possible, Grant placed Ellie on the dirt, moving some stubborn strands of hair away from her face. It wasn't long since she had been infected by the raptor, but her body was already feeling the effects of the unknown disease. Her breathing was quick and ragged, the strength in her legs had lessened, and her complexion was very sickly.
Leah was nearby, watching the situation with little or no hope. It looked as though Ellie was going to be one of the unfortunate casualties in this battle. From next to her, she heard Malcolm groan, as he began to stir. She knelt beside him, trying to help him awaken.
"Being gentle and caring isn't going to help at this point, Dr. Grant," Larson spoke up, killing the silence.
If Ellie wasn't holding onto his arm for dear life, Grant would have most definitely gotten up and charged at the deranged man. Perhaps it was one last attempt, on Ellie's part, to save Alan Grant's life. It was a small attempt, but it worked nonetheless.
Larson's talking enticed Malcolm to wake up. With Leah's help, he finally stood on wobbly legs. After realizing what was happening, he just stood there, stunned by the events of the past few minutes. Everything looked to be going their way, after the raptors had attacked so unexpectedly. Sure, you couldn't predict what the clever murderers were going to do, but they had helped the good guys, even if that wasn't their evil intentions. But now. Now, things couldn't have gone more wrong in his eyes. He glanced over at Leah, who had since stopped looking his way and was looking down at Grant and Ellie. Then, he glanced back at the madman about fifteen feet away. The madman wasn't alone. Griffin was with him, and Griffin possessed the one thing that stopped Malcolm from attacking them . . . a rifle.
"You know, Dr. Grant," Larson continued to drudge on, "I'm not sure how much you know about me, but I once worked on these islands."
Grant looked up at him, but didn't move, as Ellie still wouldn't allow it. For as long as she could, she was going to hold onto him.
Larson continued, "There were all sorts of data reports, even back then, about this unknown disease. Hammond knew about it, but he didn't have a clue as to what to do about it. He's really a simple-minded old fellow with but a one-track vision. He was foolish enough to think there would be no flaws in his plan."
"Is this excruciatingly long winded rambling going to cease soon?" Malcolm interrupted.
"Hey, would you look at that," Larson said in amazement, "Dr. Malcolm has decided to join us."
Malcolm stared at him, and then added some thoughts of his own, "You do know that the more you talk . . . the more insane you seem, right? You are truly one of the finest specimens of a nut that I've ever seen."
"Trying to rile me, Dr. Malcolm? So that perhaps I'll get angry and do something stupid? I'm sorry, but that's not going to work at this point."
Griffin aimed his rifle toward Malcolm, smiling when he had the scientist in the sights.
Larson continued.
"So, Dr. Grant? Where were we? Oh yes! I was about to show you this."
Larson removed a small vial from a pocket and held it between his thumb and index finger, shaking it slightly.
"What is that?" Grant asked. He hadn't spoken to anyone but Ellie, since she had been attacked.
"This, sir . . . is an antidote to the most wonderfully revered disease on this side of the world."
Grant took in a deep breath, as he stared at the clear liquid that Larson was shaking in his hand.
"Drinking this would supposedly clear the infection and restore life to the subject."
"What do you want, Larson?" Grant asked desperately.
"Oh, I don't want a thing from you . . . besides knowing that you will suffer as I had once suffered."
"What are you talking about?"
Before Grant even got the question completely out, Larson had sidestepped toward a protruding rock and smashed the tiny vial of liquid.
Grant stood up at once, heading straight for Larson. Every ounce of hope was wrapped up in that tiny vial and with one swift movement, all was lost. He took several steps toward Larson, ignoring the weapons. Malcolm was right behind him and managed to stop him.
Griffin had gone from pointing the rifle at Malcolm to pointing the rifle at Grant's chest, almost touching him. A shot at that close of range would surely be very messy. Finally allowing his sense to return, Grant stopped and relaxed a tiny bit. He brought up his arms slightly, visibly shaking from the magnitude of anger coursing through his body.
"Years ago, I lost a dear loved one . . . because of your involvement on Nublar," Larson said to Grant, "And now, because of my actions, you will lose a dear loved one."
There was a tear coming down Grant's cheek now, as his anger subsided momentarily and he began to think about life without Ellie in the world. He wiped it away and said, "You truly are crazy. I have never done a thing to you."
Larson ignored that. "I've studied up on this disease, Dr. Grant. I'm sure you'll want to hear this interesting tidbit. Out of the humans that have been affected over the years, women have faired much worse."
Grant's anger was returning fast and Leah could tell. She brought herself into the confrontation, trying to save at least one life today. She placed her hand on his shoulder, "Alan, please back up a little."
"Men just seemed to be able to better cope with the disease," Larson said, continuing to provoke him.
Grant's intensity never let up, as Griffin continued to hold the rifle on him.
"She'll be dead within the hour. Hell, probably sooner."
"Alan," came a whisper of Ellie's voice from where she was laying.
Grant turned around, and with his arms still up in a peaceful way, slowly leaned down beside Ellie.
"I . . . I need to tell you something, Alan." Her breathing was getting worse.
"It's okay, Ellie. Just save your strength, okay?"
"No, I need to tell you this right now."
Larson reached into his pocket, looking for the detonator. His pockets were empty. Frowning, he walked over toward Grant and the others and hovered over them.
"Okay, this is all very moving and dramatic, but it seems I must leave you now. Rest assured I will be back . . . and then I'll finish the job I came here to do. And who knows, perhaps I'll keep a souvenir," he said, looking toward Leah.
Leah stared at Larson, taking two unsteady steps backwards.
Larson sighed and turned back to Griffin, "Shall we?" Then he shifted the rifle in his hands and walked out of the cave with Griffin at his side.
When they were far enough out of the cave, they looked in all directions to see if there were any more dinosaurs. Two pteras flew in circles above, so they would need to be cautious.
"What are we doing out here?" Griffin whispered to him harshly.
"We need the detonator, so we can finally finish all this."
"We can also just shoot them," Griffin offered.
"No, not after we've come all this way." Larson looked in the direction of where he had come, hoping to spot the detonator on the ground somewhere.
"Shouldn't one of us stay with them?"
Larson gestured toward Ellie, "Look at her. They'll be busy with her for a little while. We have time."
"But--"
"If you didn't spend half your time questioning me instead of listening to me, we would probably be drinking martini's on the fucking beach right now." Griffin nodded, but Larson knew he didn't agree. "Let me put it like this. We're doing it my way."
* * *
Glaring at Martinez silently, Aldez showed no intention of giving into the younger man's orders. Calling Sanchose again would be political suicide for him.
"So, what will you decide to do?" Martinez asked.
"I promise you, I will see to it that you are sent to prison for your treason," Aldez said, as he began taking off his back pack.
"No, this is not called 'treason'. This is called 'doing the right thing'."
Aldez snarled as he put his hands into his pack, rummaging through it. He grabbed the radio in his left hand, and began to stand, pulling a pistol out of the bag with his right hand. Aldez swiftly brought the pistol up, firing off a round at Martinez.
Martinez gasped as blood splattered out of his thigh. He grunted as he put pressure on the wound with one hand, and raised his pistol with the other.
"Put down the gun!" Aldez demanded.
Martinez's legs shook, as the immense pain in his leg began to take hold. He had been trained to withstand terrible amounts of pain, but training never amounted to the real thing. He was caught by surprise by how much his leg hurt right now.
"I said, put it down!" Aldez repeated, his voice all the more stern and serious.
Martinez looked up at his superior, who was standing just about a hundred feet away, the barrel of the gun aiming directly between his eyes. He didn't dare put down the gun, but neither did he dare take aim. Aldez was too good. His head would be full of lead before he even got his gun up to aim at Aldez's chest. He had no hope for anything good to happen at this point. He shook his head and looked down at the moss covered ground.
A large wind swept through the area, tugging at the branches of the trees. Sounds of birds and animals were all around them.
The pain made Martinez feel dizzy. He couldn't focus.
Aldez spoke in a loud and determined voice, but to Martinez, it only sounded like a mouse whispering in his ear, "Put your gun down, or I will kill you."
Martinez looked back up at the General. The wind had stopped blowing. All was quiet. No more noise. No more nothing. Just Aldez and the bushes shaking behind him.
Martinez dropped the gun, put his hands up, and backed slowly away.
Aldez smiled.
The bushes began to growl.
Aldez stopped smiling and began to turn around.
The bushes exploded as six little hellions leapt outward, landing on Aldez. The dark purple colored ornithomimoides knocked the General to the ground, and began to gnaw feverishly at his flesh. Aldez screamed out for help.
Martinez stood still, mouth agape, as the blood of Aldez began to splatter across the mossy jungle floor. That's when he noticed two more of the small muscular dinosaurs stepping out from behind the bushes from whence they came. The ornithomimoides snarled at him, and revealed their ugly serrated teeth.
Acting quickly, he picked up his gun. The sudden movement caused the two small dinosaurs to roar, and then charge at him.
Everything was now clear. He no longer felt any pain from the bullet that remained lodged in his thigh. When he pulled the triggers and shot the two dinosaurs, he saw their bloody spasms with perfect clarity.
It suddenly occurred to Martinez that he didn't hear Aldez screaming any more. He looked back at the bloody macabre, and saw the six ornithomimoides standing over Aldez's ravaged body. Blood and tendrils of flesh hung from their jaws as they looked up at him with an expression that could only be described as bewilderment. Then, all in unison, the six little heads turned to the bodies of their fallen counterparts, and then once again, they looked back at Martinez.
Martinez went to work, thinking out the math. An eight bullet clip, just used two bullets, six more dinosaurs left. One for each of them.
The small dinosaurs roared at him, blood and saliva flying all about.
He raised the pistol once more and put his finger on the trigger. "Moment of truth." He pulled the trigger and the gun bucked in his hand.
The bullet struck one of the small dinosaurs. A mist of blood shot from its chest as it flopped onto its back. Martinez aimed again, and fired another bullet at one of the other dinosaurs, hitting it below the knee and cleanly cutting off its lower leg.
He was about to aim again, when the remaining ornithomimoides roared, then charged at him. He fired off another round, and to his dismay, saw dirt fly up from under one of the dinosaur’s feet. He had wasted a bullet.
"Shit," he whispered harshly to himself, then turned to run. Just after his first few steps, the intense pain in his thigh was almost ready to make him scream out loud and fall over gasping for air. But he tried to ignore the pain and continue running.
He spun around quickly, and fired off another two rounds. This time, both shots found their targets, and two more of the dinosaurs went down. Two of them left now. And only one bullet. Again, he turned around and ran.
He could hear the snarls behind him as the ravenous predators followed him close. He could hear his heart pounding hard in his chest. It was in this moment that he thought about what he had done. Confronting Aldez would be the last great thing that he would do before he died. And it was all in vain, anyway, since he would not live long enough to assist Grant and the others with their escape from the island.
But, as useless as his situation seemed at the moment, he realized he wasn't dead yet. He still had a chance. He was trained for combat and he wasn't going to lose to these things without a fight. If he was going to die, he was going to die valiantly.
Martinez put the pistol back in its holster and took a deep breath. Then, he jumped to the side and rolled behind a tree.
He got to his feet quickly, and pressed his back up against the tree. He could hear the snarls and running footsteps of the approaching dinosaurs. Quickly he crossed his heart, then took one last deep breath, as he removed his hunting knife from its sheath.
The head of the first ornithomimoides appeared beside his tree. Martinez yelled as he lunged at it with his knife. The animal saw him coming, and tried to move out of the way, but the sharp knife still sliced into its upper thigh. Then, in the same single motion of the knife stab, Martinez brought his leg around and kicked the dinosaur in the head. It screeched as it was knocked off its feet and fell backwards.
The second ornithomimoides screamed as it charged at Martinez from behind. He felt little daggers sinking into the back of his right leg, as he gasped from the excruciating pain. He reached back to stab at the dinosaur with his knife, but to his horror, the animal bit into his hand, forcing him to drop it.
Martinez screamed. He tried to make the dinosaur lose grip on his leg by shaking it, but that did not work. So, he did the only thing he could do. Martinez slowly moved closer to the tree, then he lifted his leg up, swinging it backwards. The dinosaur that clung onto his leg let out a shriek as its back was crunched up against the tree. It released its grip and fell from his leg, breathing heavily on the ground.
Martinez looked at the injured ornithomimoides. He knew that it would not stay down for long. Stepping back, he took a deep breath before he kicked downward, bringing his heel down like an axe into the skull of the small dinosaur. The dinosaur made no sound when the skull cracked open, revealing the bloody upper lobe of its primitive brain.
He felt dizzy from the blood loss in his legs and hand. He staggered slightly to the side, but caught himself and stood upright again. Hesitantly, he moved his hand up into view. Now he could see his palm and all the fingers were covered with crimson blood. The skin between his index finger and thumb was shredded, like a bulldog had latched onto it. And along with all the blood, he saw a little bit of foamy white saliva from his assailant.
A shrill, heart-stopping roar brought him back to reality. He turned around slowly, and just as he expected, saw the other ornithomimoides standing there, its arms spread to the sides and its mouth open in an attack posture. He stared at the dinosaur, and it stared directly back at him.
Martinez moved his hand towards his pistol holster. He was about to remove the gun, when the dinosaur roared and leapt at him.
Martinez put his hands forward in defense as the creature landed on his stomach. It secured its position with claws and teeth that dug into his skin. He nearly fell backwards from the sudden weight and pain brought on by the animal.
He screamed and tried to bat the animal off of his stomach, but it was to no avail. The ornithomimoides growled furiously and then looked up at his face. Swiftly, it crawled up his torso and lunged at his neck. Martinez put his arm up just in time, as the dinosaur bit into his muscular arm, instead of his exposed neck.
The creature shook its head back and forth trying to tear off a piece of Martinez's flesh. In turn, he continued to punch the beast's head with his free arm. At long last, the dinosaur put its feet on his chest, and then used them to launch off his arm and body. Martinez screamed as he fell backwards from the strength of the dinosaur.
He didn't have time to react, as it was already upon him before he could even sit up. The demonic creature leapt up into the air, and came down on his chest. Again, it stabbed its claws into him, securing its position. Then, it opened its bloody maw, closed its eyes, and snapped his head forward, aiming for his neck. The jaws closed and they began to chew feverishly at the hard metal of the pistol. Martinez grunted as he pulled the trigger, sending blood and brain matter out the back of the dinosaur's skull.
The ornithomimoides went limp, and it fell to the side, rolling off his body.
Martinez lay there for a moment, unable to sit up or move because of the pain that now ran through his entire body. Nothing would stop death now. The only thing he might have control over, was when death would find him. Finally, he reached over and removed the bloody pistol from the ornithomimoides' mouth. He moved the pistol in his weak hand, and aimed it at his own heart. Then, he pulled the trigger and heard the clicking sound that he knew he would hear.
A tear made its way down his face as he cried. The crying hurt his injured stomach and chest.
He cried until slowly . . . and thankfully . . . everything began to go black.
* * *
Alan cradled Ellie's head in his arms, trying to gather the courage to look into her eyes. All of his strength was drained, as he struggled to stop himself from just breaking down into tears. He had to be strong for her. There was no other option at this point. He needed to comfort her in her last remaining moments. Trying to think of happier times, he began to recollect their past and all of the fun things they had done and seen together.
"Alan?" came the faint voice of the woman he loved so dearly.
"Yeah?" he whispered in return, almost crying as he said the word aloud.
"I need t-to tell you . . . "
Her mind drifted away some and he thought that she was dying right then and there. He looked away from her and searched the immediate area for something or someone to attach his overpowering feelings to. He found Leah and was utterly thankful to lock onto her face.
Leah looked just as drained as he felt, and she was valiantly chasing away the few stubborn tears that were trying to form. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. Unconsciously, he gazed in that direction and saw Malcolm, who was taking a few steps toward them, but still keeping his distance.
It was then that he felt Ellie tugging on his shirt. He turned to her and she pulled him closer to her face. She looked as if she was coming to terms with her plight, suddenly realizing what all of this was coming down to. As if it were the understatement of her life, she whispered to him, "I'm not going to make it."
The fright and sadness in her voice motivated him to remain positive, even though there was no real hope at this point. He caressed her face and angrily wiped away a tear of his own with his injured hand, "You're not going to die," he sternly said, shaking his head in defiance.
"There is something very important that I need to tell you."
"You're not going to die, Ellie," he repeated, getting a little more desperate to hold onto the situation.
"You need to listen to me," she whispered, clinging to even more of his shirt.
He was expecting her to tell him that she still loved him, and that she wished they still had a life together. Things that he wished to tell her at this desperate hour, just hoping that she had the same desires.
She didn't say that at all.
Knowing that her time was short and only getting shorter, Ellie realized that she couldn't try to break her news gently. She needed to get it out there before the inevitable happened.
"Alan . . . you . . . " she closed her eyes, feeling very weak all of a sudden. No, I need more time! She forced her eyes open and when she looked into his eyes, she was somehow temporarily revitalized, "Alan . . . you have a son," she said in a louder tone than she had meant to.
Leah stood in a daze, but then finally nodded to herself, knowing exactly where that realization was heading. Grant was completely floored, though.
"W-what?"
"Charlie, Alan. Charlie is your son."
Still staring at Ellie in utter shock, his only reaction was to shake his head back and forth in defiance.
"Yes," Ellie whispered, as she winced.
There were a dozen different things he wanted to say. He wanted to demand why she hadn't told him. He wanted to know if Mark had known. He wanted to know why he hadn't figured it out on his own, way before this moment. All of those thoughts and demands were silenced by Ellie.
"I'm sorry. This isn't . . . " her voice trailed off, but then she was able to avoid the haze that was threatening to take her away forever, she forced a few more words out, ". . . I wasn't fair to you," she finally said.
"It's okay," he whispered, trying to hold back his emotions.
"Take care of my kids, Alan."
"I'm going to get you out of here," he said, trying to talk himself into that idea and going against every rational thought in his head.
Leah blinked a few times, as tears welled in her eyes. He wasn't going to accept the inevitable and she didn't really blame him for not wanting to. She stood by, watching Alan's final moments with Ellie.
Looking at Alan, Ellie was verging on tears of her own now. She had accepted her fate and her place in the scheme of things and it somehow relieved her. She began to speak again, her voice cracking, "I love you like family," she said. She feebly raised her hand to find his face. He clutched her hand in his own and held it against his cheek as she added, "You are family, Alan."
Alan faintly smiled and she could see that he was happy to hear her words.
Her breathing gently came to a stop and on the slight exhale, her body became very relaxed in his arms.
"Ellie?" he barely whispered, a few tears coming down, colliding with her hand that he still had pressed against his cheek.
She didn't answer.
He choked out her name once more, "E-Ellie?"
There would be no answer, though. She would never answer again and it was ripping him apart inside. He didn't think he had ever felt so much pain in his entire life, as he continued to hold her.
There was no fighting his emotions now, as he began to quietly weep, staring into her eyes that had remained opened. Seconds ago, those penetrating blue eyes had been fixated on him, but now they had drifted away, not really looking at anything. Ellie's soul had left the weak shell of a body behind and Alan fought the rage that was slowly and strongly brewing inside of him.
After glancing gravely toward Malcolm, Leah quietly made her way to Alan. She stopped just short of where he and Ellie were sitting on the ground.
Still holding Ellie's hand against his face, Alan moved her hand, gently resting it across her stomach. As gently as possible, he cradled her body in his arms and slowly moved his legs, lowering her to the ground until she was laying flat.
"Alan . . . " Leah began to say, but then she couldn't think of another word or phrase that could possibly help, so she stood there and remained quiet.
Upon hearing Leah's voice, Alan abruptly looked up, seeking the comfort that he was sure would be in her face and posture. His eyes found hers and he felt better instantly. The relief only lasted for a brief moment, as he looked down at Ellie's hand, realizing that he still hadn't been able to release it yet.
He leaned over, gently kissing Ellie's hand, noticing that it was already cold and clammy to his lips. She had been slowly dying the whole time and now it hit him.
She was gone.
He finally let go of her hand. Reaching over, he placed his hand over her eyelids and gently closed them, his crying slowing down some.
The fluttering of wings caused Alan to look away for a moment. Leaning his body toward the cave entrance, he glanced outside and into the sky, scanning the area until he spotted a few pteranodons quite a distance away. He carefully observed their behavior, allowing the scientist inside to evaluate them. They swooped down several times, shrieking and squawking, and then they would rise back into the air, circle around, and then swoop down again, repeating the process over and over. After watching for about a minute, he guessed that they were attacking something . . . or someone. The tiny chance that they could be attacking Larson, filled his shattered thoughts with renewed hope.
He would mourn later. He had a lifetime to learn how to live without her.
Right now, he was going to get even.
Shocked to see Alan get to his feet so fast, Leah approached him and almost didn't catch up to him, as his back was already turned.
"Where are you going?" she asked, wiping tears away.
He didn't answer, so she reached out and swung him around by the shoulder. When he turned and faced her, Leah was very frightened by the look in his eyes.
"I'm going to find him," he simply answered, barely audible.
The voice she had heard didn't even sound like Alan, but more like a threatening stranger talking. Instinctively, she released him and watched him whip back around and walk away.
"What did he say?" Malcolm asked, as he made his way toward Leah.
"He's going after Larson," she answered quietly, looking down at Ellie's body.
Author note: The next stage will be posted in about three days, so the wait won't be as long this time around. So don't miss it! Thanks again for reading and commenting along the way. Taking a second to let us know what you think is very helpful and muchly appreciated.
--JPJunkee and Yvonne
11/2/2003 8:29:36 PM
(Updated: 11/3/2003 3:28:03 AM)
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