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Dino Trackers
By MuldoonLives15
DINO TRACKERS
Splash! The rain poured down around Matt Heaton mercilessly as he bounced down the abandoned jungle trail. It was raining non stop, not storming, just rain, rain, and rain. Matt Heaton did not like rain; he always thought it a bother. Heaton was a young man of 26, strongly built, and tall. He had been in the army for a few years, and he could handle himself against anyone or anything. But, right now, he was terrified out of his mind. He could not remember being this afraid since his childhood. Fear this deep and this passionate was an unknown feeling to him. Heaton would give anything to be someplace else, anyplace else but here. The thing chasing him was not even loud. Not sounding the slightest bit scary. But it was, it truly was. Heaton wanted to be back in his 2 room, 1 bathroom apartment, back to his loving girlfriend Libby, and back to his favorite food, a medium well cooked steak with a baked potato. But, sadly none of this mattered now. Heaton stumbled and fell into the mud. He briefly thought of getting up, but he did not, he could not, he hadn't a chance and he knew it. A memory of a class taken in Yellowstone National Park flashed across his mind, it taught that if attacked by a bear, place your hands over your head and neck, your vital areas to save yourself. This did not help Matt Heaton.
Orlando, Florida: The Next Day
Trey Turner threw the last trunk into the B 725 Jet Airplane, one of the two planes and three helicopters he bought for his little excursion into the jungle. Little was hardly the word for it though. Turner had fell into some money a few years back, due to the lovely lottery of the gracious state of South Carolina. Turner was 28, and a handsome man with an Australian hat. He was also a thrill seeker of the most dangerous kind. He did not only yearn for the adrenaline rush gained from jumping from an airplane, or swimming with great white sharks, he desired it. Lately, that thirst had not been quenched. He grew tired of these trite adventures by the age of 21, and desperately searched for a new adventure. In the summer of 1997, that adventure presented itself in its most horrific form. The television footage of a live dinosaur terrorizing the streets of San Diego captivated Turner. He did his researched, and asked the right people the right questions, and eventually learned of a genetics company called inGen, that had long since gone bankrupt. He learned exactly what he had hoped, and more. InGen apparently owned a few islands off the Costa Rican coast, and Turner had to go there. Turner, along with his 4 fraternity friends from college, who have been on every little adventure with him from safari to surfing, were going to Isla Sorna, one of the two islands supposedly filled with living, breathing dinosaurs.
The door to the airplane shut with a slam, and revealed an insignia stating "Dino Trackers" on the side. Inside the passenger plane, were the 5 adventurers. Along with Turner was Brian Rodgers, and entomology major turned local exterminator, he was 26, Kevin Jett, a computer tech major who now works at the DELL computer and supply store, he was 26, Henry (Harpoon) Harrison, he never finished college and ended up working at an alligator farm, he was 27, and John Smarr, an animal behavior major, who worked as an animal control officer.
"What if there’s nothing there, what if it’s all BS, just a bar story to swap at Costa Rican bars?" Brian said.
"Little late for that, plus we've seen them, and we know for sure." Harrison replied.
"Now, this is not totally legal you understand, but we doubt we will have any trouble from the Costa Rican government when we land." Bueno, their porter told them, he had an accent.
"So we're going to meet up with Matt once we get there right?" Kevin Jett asked.
"Yea," Turner replied.
Matt Heaton went to days early to the island, to scout it out, and find a suitable campsite for the group. He was army grown, and very capable.
"How are you?" Harrison asked John Smarr, who was leaning on the window looking out.
"Fine, just a little airsick," he replied with a half smile.
John was a very handsome man, with shaggy brown hair. Very charismatic, and charming, he usually had a smile on his face. Born and raised in the south, he was strong willed and bold, and his only fault was the lack of a work ethic. He was filled with anticipation, for this trip would be more beneficial to him than anyone else.
The 2 planes carried cargo, camping supplies, rations, and of course weapons. The 3 helicopters carried 2 red Jeep Wranglers and a Land Rover. This was well planned, and well funded. It was the adventure of a life time. It was all planned out, nothing could go wrong...
The thudder of helicopter blades drowned out Brian Rodgers voice as he shouted to Kevin Jett. "Is that all?"
"Yes," he replied as he carried his personal duffel bag across the abandoned runway to place in the back of the red jeep.
"So you're gonna be here, on the landing strip at 12 o’clock on Wednesday right?" Turner shouted into a satellite phone to the pilot of the helicopter.
"Roger, see you in two days Trey," he called back into the phone.
Turner placed the satellite phone into one of his many pockets in his brand new safari pants. This wasn't new to Turner though, he had been on countless safaris in Africa, and this felt distinctly similar to him. The familiarity made Turner anxious, this trip was supposed to be different, new, one of a kind. Not like Africa.
Kevin Jett stumbled up to Turner, dust from the chopper covered his entire body, he was covered with all different kind of equipment. Jett was definitely out of his element here. He didn't usually go on these little adventures with his friends; he was a computer guy, not a lumber jack. He frowned and coughed a few times before finally saying,” Here is the tracking system, you see these red dots signalize body heat, so we will know if anything bigger than 150 pounds comes within a 400 yard radius. All of us have a beacon on us that transmits to the GPS and shows up on the screen. You see, 5 blue dots over those 5 red dots, that’s us."
"Good job Kevin, that’s great it really is, did you give Matt one of those?" He asked.
"Yes, when we get within four hundred yards of him we should see him."
"Good, we need to have the whole team together tonight,"
"First things first guys," he yelled to the group, “Harrison and Smarr, take a jeep and find Heaton, the rest of us will scout around, see what’s here but stick close to the landing strip until Harrison and Smarr call back with Matt's report about a camp site."
"Sounds good, come on," Harrison said to John Smarr.
Harrison entered the driver’s seat, as Smarr slowly took out a tactical 12- gauge shotgun, just in case. The two men drove off down what once was a trail.
"OK, Brian you come with me, Kevin you stay here and make sure nothing messes with our stuff, we'll be back soon, keep in contact." Turner said.
Jett waved as Rodgers and Turner trekked into the jungle. Turner didn't expect to see any animals right now, but its always good to check out the terrain. They walked a good mile into the bush, and came up to a small cliff that looked over a gorgeous valley. A valley with an enchanting river running through it, filled with enormous trees. But Turner instantly realized these were no trees. "Whoa..." Brian whispered.
Turner’s mouth twitched into a smile, "This is nothing like Africa," Turner said to himself.
Harrison and Smarr bounded down the jungle trail, Smarr was looking at the GPS trying to keep a reading on Matt.
"Were he?" Harrison asked impatiently, they had been driving for quite some time with nothing to show for it.
"Wait, here he is, but something’s wrong with Jett’s GPS, it’s just this blue dot, where’s the red?"
Harrison's stomach churned, he had a bad feeling.
"Stop here; he's a little of the trail," Smarr informed him.
"Matt! Hey Matt!" Smarr yelled into the forest as him and Harrison walked into the foliage to search.
"We should be right on top of him," Smarr said with a confused look.
"We are," Harrison grimly replied.
There, right under their feet was the remains of a human body, and in the middle of the bones, a black transmitter. Harrison bent down, and picked the transmitter up, and the two men walked back to their jeep, not saying anything to each other, not even looking at each other. Harrison just drove.
Oh no," Jett whispered into the radio,” Are you...sure it was him?"
"Yes," Harrison grimly answered back, "Where is Turner?"
"He's out checking the area," Jett replied, still in shock from what he had just heard.
"Well, get on the phone and tell him to get back! And make sure you have something to defend yourself with," Harrison barked into the radio as he and Smarr drove back to the landing strip, as quickly as possible.
"Dead?" Turner asked, filled with horror and disbelief.
"How long ago?" he asked.
"One, maybe two days," Harrison responded, "We need to leave, there isn't enough left to bring back a body, but we need to tell his loved ones."
A thousand thoughts were racing through Turners head, the expedition had hardly gotten off the ground and problems like this had already arisen. They couldn't leave though, not yet, he had barely scratched the surface of this wonderful place.
"No!" Smarr chimed in,” We can't go, we just got here!"
"Someone has died John, we can't ignore that," Harrison remarked.
"Ok, ok, we vote. To stay and make the most of this trip, we call in what happened, and we continue. Take it as an acceptable casualty, or we go home," Turner said, "We vote now."
"Well, when you put it that way, it seems like a waste to just scratch the trip all over a little accident like this," Brian Rodgers said.
"Yea, Matt would have wanted us to stay," Smarr continue.
"Stay," Jett said.
Harrison shook his head.
"I guess majority rules," Turner said as he walked back to a red jeep, "I found a camp site about a mile north of here, let’s get up camp before dark."
Five large tents that could fit a large car underneath them surrounded a patch of land with various boxes and equipment. To the side were parked the jeeps and land rover. Around a fire, sat the five men.
"They were as tall buildings, unlike anything I had ever seen, and tomorrow we're going to get them on film, we are definitely going to win some awards for this," Turner said with a smile he could not hide.
"What about the carnivores, are we going to look for them too?" Smarr asked.
"They'll probably find us first," Harrison said half laughing.
"No, I think we'd better stay with the herbivores, safer," Turner replied to them both.
"I'm turning in," Rodgers said. And with that, they slept.
John Smarr awoke to the ambient jungle sounds, and a very large bug on his arm. He flicked it off frowning, and got up. He walked out of his tent, stretching and looking around. The surrounding jungle was extremely beautiful, and despite the humid air, he found himself very comfortable and content. Smarr smiled. Noticing all the others getting dressed and packing the jeeps for the day, he did the same. Putting on his brand new multi pocket vest, he walked over to one of the jeeps.
"Harrison and Smarr take this jeep and go to the North, see what you can find. Me, Brian and Kevin will take this one and go south," Turner commanded.
"I think I'll hang back, hold down the fort," Jett said with a yawn.
"Whatever you want, just keep on your toes," Turner said back.
The jeep exploded through the line of foliage onto an overgrown trail. "Yeah! This is great!" Smarr yelled as Harrison insanely drove the jeep down the trail.
"Hey wait, slow down," Smarr said as he struggled to look at what was ahead.
It was a compound. A once glorious, working compound now turned wild by the jungle. A parking lot with cars left in the spaces, most turned over and all overrun by the forest. It was like time just stopped here, those many years ago. The two left the jeep and slowly walked through the abandoned parking lot towards the steps to the compound. A feeling of awe and sadness overcame them, sadness that this place never reached its full potential. That it was all lost. They walked into the lobby of the building, and broken computers, and sofa's with bits of padding torn out.
"You getting this?" Harrison asked. Smarr already had the camera out, and was filming.
Turner and Rodgers had parked their jeep about a half of mile behind them. They splashed through the shallow stream talking quietly about nothing to each other. This place was enchanting, a paradise almost. Turner was so unaware at the moment, that he almost did not see the faint peace of clothe, 12 inches in diameter in the stream bed to the left. He picked it up, and could tell it had been weathered by the stream and the jungle and was years old. Yet, he could see writing on it. Barely, and he asked Rodgers to read what it said. Rodgers squinted at the piece of clothe, and finally said,” It looks like a name or something. It says "D. Stark."
"Hmm, wonder who he was," Turner replied, tossing the cloth away. Then, a strange sensation overcame Turner. He felt like he was being watched. The eyes of the jungle were on him, and he and Rodgers were not alone. It was a sickening feeling. It was interrupted though, by two loud gun shots echoing through the land. Turner and Rodgers ran full speed back to the jeep, not looking back.
Rodgers sat on the hood of the jeep as Turner hurriedly talked into the radio.
"What was that?" Turner said impatiently to Jett who was back at camp.
"I really have no idea, call Harrison maybe it was him," Jett replied, he sounded tired and bored.
"They're out of range right now, but I'm coming back to camp, and when I get there I expect some answers," Turner ordered.
"Ok," Jett said back.
Turner got into the jeep and yelled at Rodgers to get in too. They drove along the old jeep trail until they finally reached camp once again. Getting out, Turner walked around the tent, he noticed a yellow humvee.
"What the-", he said with shock.
Jett stood next to the burned out fire along with Smarr and Harrison, but they were not alone. Three burly looking men stood along with them.
"Who is this," Turner said alarmed at almost a yell.
"Ask him," Harrison said pointing to John Smarr.
Smarr looked at Turner with a nervous face.
"John?" Turner questioned.
"Um, well," he said, not knowing quite how to explain this.
"I am Dr. Snare," said the largest man. He wore a black leather hat, with what looked like crocodile skin pants, and heavy boots. There were large scars on his chest, and arms.
"These are my...associates, Scrap Davis, and Skinner.
"Scrap? Is that a family name?" Rodgers asked.
"I met these guys in a Costa Rican bar a few months back while we were there figuring this trip out," Smarr explained, “We got to talking and they gave me a very exciting offer. It turns out; Dr. Snare was part of the inGens 1997 expedition to Isla Sorna. The expedition failed horribly, and nearly all of the members of the expedition were killed. Snare was one of the few survivors. He has been here before, he knows this island."
"Yes, and I have always wanted back here," Snare said with a boyishly fraud smile, “I want to finish, at least partially what I started back in '97,"he told them.
"What you started?" Turner asked.
"Yes," Snare said as he began to pace around the burnt logs of the extinguished fire," Yes, the expedition’s goal was to relocate some of these animals."
"You mean steal them." Turner said sternly.
"No, not at all," Snare said," These animals are the property of inGen, the company who put together the expedition. We were simply harvesting our crops. InGen has the rights to these animals, inGen made these animals. We had every right." He said.
"Yes, you did. But now you don't work for inGen." Turner said.
"That doesn't matter; inGen will pay graciously for live specimens, even for parts of dead ones. And if inGen doesn't want them, I'm sure there is someone who does." Snare said.
"Your friend Mr. Smarr informed us of when you would be visiting the island, and offered us a job to be your guides. As long as you would help us collect these very profitable assets. Of course, once we sell our captives, you will be welcome to a bit, a small bit of the profit." Snare said with a forced smile.
"We don't want anything to do with it." Turner said quickly.
"Trey think of the possibilies, how much this would be worth! We can cash in on some of the profit, and we can film these guys in the process! We could make our fortune here!" Smarr said impatiently.
"No, it’s a bad idea. A very bad idea," Turner replied, his mind was made up.
"This isn't your expedition Turner," Smarr said, he was getting angry now.
"That’s right, and you can do whatever you want. But the rest of us are not going to have anything to do with this," Turner countered.
"Open your eyes!" John yelled, he was getting frustrated, and greed filled his eyes, “You narrow minded fool, just open your eyes and look around. You would never have to work another day in your life. I am not going back home again to nothing, I am not going back home WITH nothing,"Smarr said.
"It's your choice, but not on my watch," Turner said, he was done talking.
"Hmm, I was afraid this might happen," Skinner opened his mouth finally. "You see, if you deny us the privilege of your company, and of course your resources and help. We'll have to have some way to...vent our disappointment. You see this," Skinner said pulling out a small bottle of green liquid. "This is amotrin docsolidis."
Turner and Harrison exchanged confused glances.
"This is the substance that is used between rival tribes in Africa. You see, one from the opposite tribe, will go into the other village at night and sprinkle this stuff on tents, the ground, surrounding plants and trees, and even on the villagers themselves. And within minutes, every predator in 30 miles comes running, driven mad by the smell. Its not quite none what it does, but it puts them in a frenzy, and nothing will break it. They lose all fear of each other, and of man. Killers of all species will rush into the village, Hyenas and Lions will kill together, and the abundance of food leaves no need for fighting. The village is quickly devoured. I break this bottle open here, and who knows what will happen." Skinner explained with a child like grin.
"That’s the craziest thing I've ever heard," Turner said.
"Care to test it?" Skinner replied.
Night had fallen now, and after a long discussion between the Dino Trackers, minus John Smarr, a decision had been made. These raiders would be aloud to work along side them. Turner tried to convince himself, that it was truly because of the money that could be gained, but he and his whole team new that it was because of that absurd liquid they had been threatened with. Turner hardly believed it was what they said it was, but he certainly was not going to test it. Turner wanted to believe he wanted a piece of the profit, but it wasn't like he could use the money.
The now larger group of men sat around the fire, no one spoke.
"We're going to be working together, lets try to get to know each other. I don't know why we can't be friends," Smarr said aloud. Harrison and Turner shot him a look of disgust, and Smarr looked to the left pretending not to see them.
"How did you survive the 1997 expedition?" Turner asked Snare.
Snare looked down at the fire, and Turner was beginning to wonder if he had even heard him.
"One night, a Tyrannosaur attacked our camp. A group of us tried to escape by running into a field of grass, very tall grass. One guy, a short fellow named Jim couldn't even see over it,” Snare said with a forced, nervously reminiscent chuckle, “Well we went into this grass, and the rex did stop chasing us. We thought we did it, we thought we were home free. Well that’s when the first attack came. Michael Crondite was lagging behind a bit, and he was just pulled down. It was like he tripped or something. But then the tail came. A long slender tail taking the Michaels place at the back of the group. What followed was a massacre. It was luck that I made it out. Heavens knows I shouldn't have," Snare said rubbing a long scare on his chest.
"Let’s go to bed," Scrap Davis's voice boomed over everyone else, "Skinner, you take first watch. We may play like we like you, but we still don't trust you," he said smiling as he went to a tent to sleep. The rest followed, Turner was the last to enter the tent. He knew he was in deep this time, but how deep, he just didn't know.
Turner awoke to a metallic clanking sound, and grunting noises. He sleepily got up out of his tent, and for a split second thought the previous days endeavors were only a dream. Then he saw Snare and Skinner loading their Humvee up with equipment for catching large animals. Davis was loading weapons and nets into one of Turner's jeeps, the jeep that had the movable passenger seat. It was originally used for filming, now used for capture.
"Ok, you come with me in the jeep," Skinner said pointing at Smarr,"You're driving."
Smarr crawled into the driver’s seat and started the car, his tattered hat was already wet with sweat.
"You come with me and Davis in the Humvee," Snare said motioning to Turner and Harrison.
"You two stay here," he said referring to Rodgers and Jett.
The Humvee and Jeep barreled down the worn game trail. A heard of dinosaurs was ahead about a mile, one of the Raiders had called it a Hadrosaur. Harrison didn't care. He leaned out the window and watched the herd as they approached it.
"Get up along side that one," Skinner
yelled at Smarr in the other jeep.
"OK."
Skinner extended a long metal rod, like a cattle prod only much bigger out of the side of the jeep. With a jolt it electrocuted the Hadrosaur and it fell to the ground in a cloud of dust.
"Yes!" Skinner yelled in a triumphant cheer.
Smarr then felt something, like a tremor in the earth. He dismissed it quickly and focused on the hunt. Then the herd scattered and started to run into all sides off the trail. The tremor came again. Then, out of the dense jungle, a gigantic beast came rushing out with an explosion of leaves and birds. The giant Tyrannosaur let out an enormous, ear shattering roar. Smarr opened his mouth in awe and stared through his dark sun glasses at the monster that charged into his path. The rex immediately turned his attention from the herd, to the two vehicles. The first jeep flew past, but the rex gave chase. The jeep could not go terribly fast off road like this, and the rex caught up with ease. It lowered its head and brought it next to the passenger side. Skinner slung the large stun gun out and shocked the beast. The rex let off, but then continued the pursuit at a different angle. It came around the driver’s side this time, and as Smarr floored out the gas. He was surprised and horrified at the dinosaurs speed when he realized the dinosaur was keeping up very well with the jeep. He felt its hot breath as its nose leveled out next to Smarr. He quickly tried to think of a way of escape when the rex slammed its head into the side of the jeep. Smarr lost control and the jeep careened to the left, finally losing all control and rolling a few times before landing on its roll bars. Smarr unhooked himself from the seat belt and got on his hands and knees. He watched the rex approach the overturned vehicle, and he stood still with fear. His eyes widened as he began to slowly inch his left hand to a rifle lying next to him. His hand was nearly upon it when the rex trotted around the jeep. Smarr looked around to see Skinner running at a full sprint to the jungle ahead. The rex had seen him, and the man didn't have a chance. The powerful beast lowered its head in an almost swooping motion and encased Skinner in his jaws. Smarr heard a brief scream that was quickly cut short. Grabbing the rifle, Smarr ran to the humvee which was pulling up. He jumped in as the humvee drove off. Smarr looked back to see the rex hunched over its kill in a dominant looking stance.
The men drove in silence, until the reached the camp. Snare exited the car first, anger filled his dark eyes.
“What happened!” he yelled pushing Smarr into a tree.
“It came out of no where! There was nothing I could do,” Smarr frantically said back.
“Where’s Rodgers?” Turner asked questionably.
“Um, he went to the overlook,” Jett said pointing into the woods.
“Did he bring a radio?”
“Yes”
“Raise him, our time on this island up. We’re going,” Turner said firmly.
“Tiss tiss tiss,” Snare said holding up the liquid.
“We’ve got our air lift coming in two hours, I called them early,”
Jett picked up the radio, and tried to raise Rodgers. He got static for a moment, and then he came in.
“Yea, I’m coming back now, you should see me on the GPS,” Rodgers said over the radio.
“Yea, we see you hurry up,”
The group crowded over the GPS, and watched the little blue dot make its way closer to the camp.
“What’s that?” Snare said, pointing to a red dot coming out of the top right side of the GPS screen.
“Oh no,” Turner said knowing what was about to happen.
“Hustle up!” Turner yelled into the radio,” You’ve got something on your six!”
“What?” Rodgers exclaimed into the radio.
Two new dots popped up on the screen, then three more from a little to the left of the others. Now six dots were closing in on the blue dot, at startling speed.
“Hurry up! You only have 100 more yards!” Turner yelled.
“Where are they? I can here them behind me!” Rodgers yelled, fear taking over his voice. The red dots continued to close in on the distance between the blue dot, and Turner turned away from the screen.
“Where are they?” Rodgers yelled once more into the radio. Then, on the GPS screen, one red dot overtook the blue dot, and then another, then another until all six dots blotted out the blue dot. An ear piercing scream was sent into the radio, and could be heard as well from the jungle ahead.
“No!” Turner yelled at Snare, “You see what you’ve done?”
“That wasn’t my fault,” Snare replied nonchalantly, “You’re man ventured a bit too far from camp, it was his mistake.”
“Come on,” Smarr yelled beginning to dash into the jungle to search for their lost companion with a large rifle in his hand. Harrison followed but Turner called them back.
“You know as well as I do he’s already dead,” he said lowering his head.
“Listen,” Snare said in and artificial tone of sympathy, “There is still much to be salvaged, he didn’t have to die in vain.”
“No, no I’ve had enough. It’s over; we should have left the minute we found Matt. The airlift should be here shortly. Let’s pack up the jeep, its time to go. This was a mistake from the beginning, “Turner said in a dismayed yet resilient tone. All Turners aspirations of fame and fortune, of having the world know his name had vanished as quickly as that red dot on the GPS. The guilt over the death of his friends twisted his stomach into knots that he felt could never be undone, and slowly, he made his way to his tent to pack his bag.
“You going to stay?” Snare asked Smarr, who had found a nice mossy log to sit against and relax.
“No,” Smarr replied, there was darkness to his voice that was not there before.
“That’s a shame,” Snare said reaching into his bag.
Turner walked out of his large, newly bought tent and stopped dead in his tracks. Dr. Snare was holding a large shotgun leveled out at Turners chest.
“You see, the trouble is my friend, we cannot let you leave,” Snare said with a smile.
A hundred thoughts rushed through Turners mind, most eccentric escape plans that could never be pulled off. No one had ever pointed a gun at him before, and it was a quite upsetting feeling. Before Turner could open his mouth, an escape route presented itself in its humblest form. A small lizard like creature, apparently some kind of dinosaur hopped out into the space in front of Snare’s feet. Snare looked at it in disgust, lowered the shotgun and fired. The small, fragile dinosaur exploded into a thousand pieces, and as Snare howled with laughter Smarr pick up a rather large log and slammed it into Snare’s head. With a clunk, Snare’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell. He wasn’t dead, but he was out cold. At almost the same instant, Harrison battered Scrap Davis in the forehead with a metallic box, sending him into a heap on the ground. For a moment, the four men stood in silence as they soaked in what had just happened. Then, with a glance down at the puddle of blood and bits of flesh Smarr said, “Thanks buddy,” and walked over to the jeep and threw his bag in it. Turner and Harrison moved the limp, heavy bodies into a tent, and closed the flap.
“Take only what you need, we should have been at the landing strip five minutes ago,” Jett said with anxiety.
“Should I cut the gas and oil lines?” Harrison said pointing at Snare’s humvee.
“No, let’s take it,” Turner replied. Turner, Smarr, and Jett entered the red jeep while Harrison started up the humvee. They left the campsite littered with useless equipment and the tents still standing proud and new. They drove into the dense jungle not looking back.
The red jeep barreled off of the trail onto the landing strip followed by the humvee. The airplane was at the other end of the strip, and Turner stepped on the gas to hurry the jeep. The black plane glittered in the sun light, it looked as if it had been waxed and polished just a few hours ago. Turner smiled for the first time in two day. But, as the jeep came around the front of the plane, his smile immediately vanished and turned to a face of complete horror and shock. The front windshield of the plane was destroyed and the large passenger door on the side was torn off. The pilot hung half in half out of the cockpit of the plane, and many of those tiny green dinosaurs were atop him, apparently feeding. Turner got out of the jeep and slammed the door in anger. He fired two shots from his rifle into the air, and the tiny dinosaurs scattered into various directions into the jungle.
“What did this?” Smarr exclaimed.
“Those little ones couldn’t have done this to a plane,” Jett said.
“No, they’re just here for the left overs,” Harrison replied, “Something else did this.”
As Turner got closer to the plane, he noticed a green slime covering the metal in different places. The green slime covered what was left of the pilots face as well. Turner touched the tip of his finger to it, and immediately felt an intense burning sensation. He frowned and rubbed it off on his pants.
“What’s this stuff?” He asked, clueless.
“No idea,” Harrison replied.
A piercing scream from a ways in the jungle made the four men jump. They exchanged glances and Turner ran to the jeep, and began digging through his equipment for the radio. Jett began to walk over to help in the search, when he was startled by a yelp from the jungle to his right. He curiously walked over, and dinosaur about 6 feet tall jumped into the clearing in front of him and stood tall. It began to hiss at him, and Jett started to get nervous. A beautiful, colorful frill emerged from around its neck. It opened its mouth and one of the most nerve shattering sounds Jett had ever heard commenced. In horror, Jett turned around on his heel and ran back towards the jeep. Splat! A hot, gooey liquid hit his leg at an exciting speed. Jett fell to his knees; the burning in his legs was so bad he could not stand. He screamed in pain as the dinosaur’s jaws clamped down on his shoulder and with surprisingly incredible force and strength picked Jett up off the ground. Turner, who had run over to the scene with rifle in hand, raised it and sighted the animal. Turner was shaking with nervous tension as he pulled the trigger. But, to Turners horror, he had not shot the dinosaur, he had shot Jett. Jett screamed in agony as blood began to ooze from the bullet wound in his shoulder. The dinosaur turned and started to trot into the jungle as Turner raised the rifle once more, determined to make his mark. He fired. To his relief, Turner hit the beast directly in the top of his head. The dinosaur dropped Jett, and soon after dropped to the ground beside him. Jett struggled to get up, but with the gunshot wound in his shoulder and the searing pain in his leg it was to no avail. Harrison and Smarr ran to the fallen dinosaur, Smarr carrying a large intimidating shotgun. Harrison helped up Jett, as he winced in pain, and began to lead him back to the jeep. The men stopped, to a strange sound behind them. It was almost like a loud bird. They turned around to see a single, 6 foot tall slender looking dinosaur staring at them from the edge of the jungle. This dinosaur was different from the one before though, it had a more elongated snout and a sickle shaped claw on one of its toes.
“I know what that is,” Turner said grimly, “It’s a velociraptor.”
“Veloci- ,” Smarr started.
“We should go, now,” he replied, staring straight into the velociraptors eyes.
Suddenly, three other raptors hopped from the jungle as well.
“Get him to the jeep,” Smarr said, “I’ll be right there.”
“Do you know what your doing?” Turner said apprehensively.
“Yeah,” Smarr replied, walking slowly forward shotgun in hand. The other three men started as fast as they could with the wounded man towards the jeep. This sudden movement immediately made the raptors take action. They attacked. They took four different routes and went for Smarr first. He raised the shotgun and backed up as he fired. He fired three shots and hit the first raptor square in the head twice; it fell to the ground with a large hole in its head. As the second raptor advance Smarr continued to pump slugs into the direction or his attacker.
“Get back!” Smarr yelled as he fired another shot,” You prehistoric freaks!”
As the second raptor fell to the ground, Smarr was fueled with a sudden, new sense of adrenaline. He might actually make it out of this in one piece. The sides of Smarr’s mouth twitched into a smile, and he raised the shotgun once again to the next dinosaur, which was considerably closer than the last. He pulled the trigger. Click. The shotgun was empty. A terrible feeling surged from Smarr’s stomach all through his body; he opened his eyes wide in child like terror. Smarr glanced from both of the charging raptors, and in a last effort of defiant rage, raised the shotgun up like a baseball bat and swung at the closest raptor. He missed. The raptor, seeing an opening, immediately kicked him in the back of the legs and Smarr felt both his calves open up. Before he could even fall to the ground, the other raptor came around his front, and faster than his eyes could watch, used that enlarged claw on the toe to rip open his stomach. Smarr fell on his side and feebly reached down and felt a wet open whole were his stomach was. He could here his flesh tearing, and his bones crunching as the two raptors began to eat, but he felt no pain at all. He opened his eyes wide and stared at his tattered hat now lying in a pool of blood. Nothing mattered now, life seemed so trivial. He smiled faintly as he slipped into slow, black, oblivion.
Turner watched in horror as the pack tore what was left of his friend apart and dragged parts of him into the jungle. Turner was in the jeep, and Harrison was driving madly away, as Jett moaned as the Jeep jolted up and down.
“What now!” Harrrison yell in a desperate mix of anger and confusion.
“Our airlift is gone, three people are dead! How are we going to get out of here? What are we going to do?!”
Turner was just as confused, he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He was hopelessly clueless and out of ideas.
“Where is the friggin’ radio!?” Harrison screamed.
“Look out!” Turner yelled from the back of the jeep, Harrison wheeled his head around just in time to see a human figure, obviously greatly injured stumble out onto the road holding his hands up for them to stop. Harrison slammed on the breaks and slid to stop just feet from the man in the road. He exited the jeep and kneeled down next to the fallen man. He looked as if he had been through a blender. He was covered in blood, and bits of flesh hung from his figure. Scrap Davis could not speak, and was barely alive.
“Stay in the car, we don’t have time for this,” Harrison said to the other two. Harrison entered the jeep and slowly drove around Scrap Davis, then sped up and turned the bend.
“Do you think the other one is alive?” Jett asked breathlessly.
“I doubt it,” Turner said sternly.
“I’m going to circle back to the airfield, maybe the radios in the other car,” Harrison said.
After driving for another couple of restless minutes, they arrived back at the airfield once again. The dead pilot was gone, and all that was left of Smarr was puddles of blood and an old hat. Turner got out of the jeep, and back to the other car and rummaged around for the radio while Harrison equipped himself with a large, automatic rifle. After Turner rummaged around in the vehicle for a minute, he lifted up and gleefully yelled,” I got it!”
An ear shattering roar made the two men jump and look to the left. A terrified Dr. Snare ran out of the jungle at full speed onto the air strip. Following immediately behind him was a huge dinosaur opening his monstrous mouth and a bellowing sound emitted from it that sent chills down Turners back. Harrison raised his rifle, but seeing Snare lowered it with a smile. Snare was running as fast as he possibly could be was not making any progress in escaping the Tyrannosaur. He wore a large pack that looked like it weighed quite a bit, but did not make any attempts to throw it off. Snare had no logical chance; in all reality Snare was already dead. But, the Tyrannosaur did not follow any logic. It did not follow any plans; any odds did not apply here. It simply did, what it thought best. The Tyrannosaur overran Snare, causing him to fall to the ground but not permanently injured, and continued on to Harrison and the jeep. Harrison, in terror raised the rifle and pulled the trigger and did not let up. Slugs pored out of the rifle with a “tat tat tat”, but had little effect on the enormous dinosaur. Harrison backed up in horror, still not letting his finger off of the trigger. Harrison was running so fast backwards that he stumbled over the open door and into the seat. He quickly closed the door just as the Tyrannosaur slammed his huge head into the side. The top weighted jeep quickly turned over, but the momentum from the impact sent the jeep rolling on its roll bars and back up to its original standing on its wheels. Jett screamed in agonistic pain and Harrison quickly fumbled around for the lost keys. Hearing the sound of an engine, not his, he looked up expecting to see Snare driving off in the other car. To his surprise, it was not Snare fleeing, but his friend Turner driving away into the jungle.
“Turner no, wait!” Harrison yelled in desperation. Turner was going to leave him and Jett here, food for the dinosaur. He was going to save his own skin, and let his friends be the bait. Just as this began to sink in, the other car turned around, stopped, and honked its horn many times. The rex looked up at it, looking almost amused. Turner got out of the car, looked at the rex, then to Snare who was lying on the ground not moving trying to avoid the eyes of the rex. Turner picked up a large rock, and entered the vehicle once again. He put it into drive, and put the rock on the gas peddle. It immediately raced as fast as it could towards the rex which Turner was steering towards. As he approached the rex with incredible speed, Turner leapt from the vehicle and crashed into the ground with a roll. The humvee sped right into the Tyrannosaur and with a defeated roar the beast fell to the ground. Its leg was obviously broken. Turner ran half limping to the jeep, and entered the driver’s seat with keys in hand.
“How…?” Harrison trailed off.
Turner started the jeep, and drove into the jungle once again.
“Wasn’t the radio-“Harrison began.
“I called the mainland already, there coming to the east dock. Helicopter,” Turner replied, and he drove steadfast to the east dock.
Dr. Snare rose up, and started to unpack something from his back. He eyed the Tyrannosaur, who was breathing heavily and moving a bit every so often, never getting very far. He was wounded badly, and Snare saw his chance at attaining what he had come for. He took out a very large and complicated net. This was well big enough for the Tyrannosaur, and looked to be electrical. Snare chuckled to himself as he began to fill a small tranquilizer dart with fluid. He looked at the Tyrannosaurs closed eyelid, and walked over and crouched. He looked at it, and hatred filled his body. Was this the same Tyrannosaur that had caused him and his companions so much trouble years ago? He spat on it, and cursed it. He readied himself to get up when the Tyrannosaurs eyes jolted open. It growled a low, deafening growl from inside. The giant dinosaur, with one last burst of energy and fury, opened its gaping jaws and enclosed them around the crouching Snare. The rex could not stand, or scarcely move, but held Snare in his jaws very tightly. Snare screamed in pain and hatred, he pounded on the rex’s head with closed fist. He felt the rex begin to loosen his grip, Snare was escaping. Then, the rex opened his jaws half way, to better position himself, and closed them again with such force all Snare could do was yelp. Blood trickled down Snares mouth as he began to die in the jaws, of the now dying Tyrannosaur.
Turner looked down at the island from inside of the rescue helicopter. It was such a trite ending, to such an unusual adventure, unusual for Turner anyway. But, that was the objective wasn’t it, to find something amazing, something out of the ordinary? Turner stared down at the deep, blue water now and realized, that he had, after all had been said and done, accomplished what he had come to do. Feeling slightly guilty thinking all of this, Turner laid his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. He didn’t know what the future held; he suspected all this would sell as quite a good story. As the rudder blades hummed Turner a sweet, surprising lullaby, Turner could not help but feel an undeniable pull to that place. An urge to not today, not tomorrow, but someday return, for something unfinished, something left behind. Turner put it out of his mind for now, and drifted into a deep and reassuring slumber. The day was done, and he had won.
7/12/2003 11:53:50 AM
(Updated: 7/12/2003 11:55:27 AM)
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