|
Primal Prey: Chapters Three and Four
By Stryderman
Chapter 3
Hammond’s concern
John Hammond’s office, Chicago, September 1993
John “Jack” Long stood in Hammond’s office in Chicago. He looked at the frail old man before him. Hammond’s hair was a snow-white colour, and his pale skin was freckled slightly. His benign features looked at Long through bespectacled eyes.
“You’re the best palaeontologist on the field, aside from one or two, Jack,” said Hammond. “I need you to help my team negotiate some, uh, rough terrain”
Long hesitated. “Mr Hammond, what do you mean by ‘rough terrain’?”
“Let’s just say, I once made a mistake, a mistake fatal to five people. To prepare you for the trip ahead, I’ve had one of my people, a pretty little thing from California, prepare a bit of a—a brochure about the island”
Jack, again, hesitated.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got some men,” Hammond said, coughing and reaching for three documents, “To protect you when you’re there. Let’s see, yes,” he thumbed the first document, “We have the G-Group, three commandoes specialising in animal combat, isn’t that funny? The CIA has a group for animal control”. Hammond laughed and picked up a second document, then the third, and handed all three to Jack.
“Kevin Hawke, Robert Thorne, and Gary Eye …”
“Yes, yes, all trained in combat of course. Um, yes your fee. I’d be happy to, to pay you, uh, twenty thousand dollars”
“Mr Hammond, I-”
“As you can see, I really want to protect the world from itself-”
“I don’t think I could-”
“Fifty”
Jack changed the current shape of his mouth to a smile. “I’d be glad to, Mr Hammond”
Louise Jonston sat at her desk waiting. She had no idea what she was waiting for; she was simply waiting. She drummed her pen onto her desk and yawned.
Just then, a man of about twenty-five came through the door from Hammond’s office. He had dark hair, blue eyes and stood tall and proud. Louise sat up.
“Can I help you?” she asked in a cheerful voice.
“I hope so,” smiled the man. “I’m Jack”
“Louise”
“Mr Hammond told me to collect some documents from you?”
“Of course, hold on just a minute”. Louise reached down and forward and picked up a bunch of papers from a shelf under her desk. “Here you go, Jack”
“Thankyou Louise,” smiled Jack. He exited the building, shielding his eyes from the sunlight outside. Louise sighed and relaxed, having finally found something interesting to think about.
Bradley Dash stood waiting at his Bell 206 Jet Ranger. He was a skilled pilot, and as he gazed out through his reflective sunglasses, he looked to check the fuel metre once more. He checked his watch. Dodgson was late. Dash shifted his backpack, which contained food for a week.
Then three figures emerged from the reception centre of the private airport. Dash recognised one as Dodgson, but the other two he didn’t know; one was about thirty, with dark hair and a well-kept beard and sunglasses. The other was also wearing sunglasses but had lighter hair. Both were heavyset and carrying long bags like the one Dash had in his chopper. Dodgson was carrying a backpack, and was wearing black. The other two, like Dash, were wearing grey, white and black camouflage uniforms with black leather vests, belts, and boots.
“Morning Dash,” Dodgson extended his hand in greeting.
“Hey, Dodgson,” replied Dash.
“This is Brock,” said Dodgson, gesturing to the bearded mercenary. Dash and Brock exchanged nods.
“This is Johnn,” said Dodgson, gesturing to the other man, who, upon closer inspection, looked slightly less heavyset than Brock.
“G’day, Dash,” greeted Johnn in a distinctly Australian accent as he smiled.
Dash nodded curtly. “Everyone, put your bags in the back of the chopper, we’re taking off in …,” he consulted his watch: 9:06 “… four minutes. Let’s go”
Jack Long was introduced to Hawke, Thorne and Eye. Hawke was a tall, muscly man with thick dark hair and a goatee. Thorne was a short, stocky man with intelligent eyes. Eye was a man taller than the others, and more thickly set. They were all dressed in black uniforms with knives, grenades and pistols situated on packs over their bodies.
Thorne seemed to be the pilot, as he ushered all the men into the helicopter, and sat at the controls. Soon they took off, and Jack looked for the last time at an inhabited city. The ‘brochure’ he had received told him of dangerous animals living on the island they were going to, and abandoned buildings. The mission of the small group was less than obvious.
Apparently, Hammond had wanted some men—the commandoes—to stop another expedition, and they wanted Jack to be their guide. Jack had no idea why. He looked again to the other men. Jack looked at his watch. It was half past noon. The trip would take four hours, he was told by Thorne.
He sighed, and shut his eyes. He soon drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 4
Isla Nublar
The Coast of Costa Rica, October 1993
Bradley Dash manoeuvred the chopper over the coast. As he did so, he wondered about his part in this expedition. Dodgson wanted protection from something. Dodgson was going to the island to collect something or other.
Dash then swung the chopper to the right, out onto the ocean. Maybe there was some kind of jaguar or leopard on the island that Dodgson wanted protecting against. Or maybe it was some kind of large bird—Dash had heard of giant, man-sized flightless birds living in Australasia. After another half hour of travel or so, a green blob appeared on the horizon.
Dash bade Brock wake up Johnn and Dodgson. By the time the men were awake, the mountain was growing bigger. Soon it filled the whole windshield. Dash passed by an upthrust of green-clad rock, a good ten metres from the island. The island didn’t have a beach, the rock simply thrust up out of the ocean and vegetation sprouted from the rock at its base. Dash decided that the island was volcanic, caused by an upthrust of something or something else. Dash wasn’t good at science or, for that matter, the English language.
The helicopter passed through green valleys, until it came to a waterfall, a sheer drop of a hundred feet. Dash saw a landing strip at the bottom. He positioned himself above it, and shifted the rotors to that the helicopter dropped down slowly.
In the back of the helicopter, Dodgson, Brock and Johnn readied their packs and bags. Both of the mercenaries produced guns from their bags, and strapped two pistols each to their thighs. They then drew out an AK-47 each. Dodgson was no stranger to guns and death to guns, as he had fought in the cold war himself.
The helicopter landed with a thud. The noise of the rotors died away as Johnn slid open the door on the side of the chopper and jumped out, gun ready. Brock exited the vehicle also, followed by Dodgson and Dash.
The men made their way along a path. The three mercenaries eyed the scenery with suspicion. They were in a green ravine, the brown dirt path winding ahead. The men paused at the first obstacle; an overgrown rectangular prism that said ‘DANGER: 10 000 VOLTS’. Dodgson walked up to it, and, with his bare hand, pushed the gate open.
The group advanced through the prism, and exited through the second gate, which was hanging off its hinges. They then proceeded along the dirt path, a mountain on their left, a drop to their right.
Soon they came to a tunnel of vegetation. The men passed through. Dodgson couldn’t contain his mounting excitement. All around him, extinct plants were growing, chocking the path. When they reached the end of the tunnel, they came to a broad field, with no path.
There were clusters of trees here and there, the closest ones being a few metres away. They were swaying gently in the breeze. Dodgson looked at them closely. They were grey, and had folds in certain places. Then Dodgson noticed that there was no breeze. There was no wind at all. And the folds on the tree’s bark were articulation points …
Dodgson finally looked up and gasped. Dash, Brock and Johnn, following his gaze, also showed signs of shock and surprise. The trees—no, the legs—belonged to an animal. A huge animal, about twenty-five metres long, stood grazing. Its peg-like teeth bit into the leaves of the nearest tall tree. Its head had an odd crest of some sort on it. The animal had a long neck, and a short tail. Its body was stocky, and muscles were visible through bulges in the skin.
The dinosaur was fifty-two feet tall, towering over the small men. It pulled away from its tree, and emitted a high-pitched noise, a graceful sound. It ambled towards the forest from which the men had came, and was greeted by four more individuals, three of which were very small, only twenty feet tall. The family then moved over towards a lake.
Dodgson gaped when he saw the lake; dinosaurs were drinking, swimming and herding either by its edge or in the water. Dodgson vaguely remembered some names, like, for the big one they had been watching, Brachiosaurus and for the smaller ones in the water, Parasaurolophus.
“Now I see why we’re here,” said Dash dryly.
After more hiking, the four men came to a building. It was grey, with small rectangular windows here and there. Its thatched rooves were made into cones. The whole place looked unkempt as it stood forlornly before a small lake.
Dodgson led the team inside the facility.
Inside the building were two wrecked skeletons, half a dozen side-doors and a metal staircase. It appeared to be the lobby. Dodgson led the team up the staircase, through a door, and into a white room, apparently the laboratory. They paused briefly to look at some eggshells, broken and scattered.
Then Dodgson spotted something: a doorway leading to a darkened room. He went in, followed closely by the others. It was the control room. There were computers—dozens of computers—and chairs, and a metal staircase leading to another sliding door.
“Up there,” ordered Dodgson, “Looks like it leads to another room”
The men climbed up the stairs and through the door. A circular chamber, with one door, stood there. It had metallic outsides and, unsurprisingly, a sliding door. The lights were still on in the room, where two pillar-like objects stood side-by-side.
“Wait here,” said Dodgson. He approached the door, which hissed open as he pulled. Inside, the air was very cold. But not stale. It was fresh.
“Must run on geothermal power or something,” Dodgson murmured vaguely to the others. He pulled on the top of one of the pillars, and it hissed, emitted a lot of steam, and rose slowly, revealing racks and racks of DNA samples, of various names. Fifteen were missing—the ones Dodgson had back at Area 52. He saw dozens. He looked at one: Brachiosaurus. He grabbed that one; that dinosaur would make a good addition to his experiment. The two nearest the brachiosaur DNA were Proceratosaurus and Baryonyx.
He put the three DNA samples into a Coola Bag, thinking he would get his secretary to research the two dinosaurs he didn’t know about.
“Let’s go,” said Dodgson. “I’ve got what I came here for, let’s haul out of here”
The four men made their way back to the helicopter.
When they were back at the lobby, Dodgson ordered Brock and Johnn to get their weapons ready. Dash, he said, was to provide a distraction, just in case there were any carnivores outside. Brock and Johnn ran to the sides of the great doors, looking out.
“All clear,” reported Brock.
“Affirmative,” Johnn confirmed, suddenly serious. “Looks like we can leave”
“Lead the way, Mr Brock,” Dodgson said, gesturing for Brock to exit. Johnn followed, then Dash, and finally Dodgson.
When Dodgson got out, he found the other three men frozen, feet stuck to the ground. Dodgson followed their gaze, and saw an animal standing between some trees. It stood on two legs, its pebbly brown-grey skin heaving as it breathed, ever so slowly. It had two insanely small forearms, ending in little two-fingered hands. Dodgson supposed that the hands might have been used to strip bark of wood or something.
Then he looked at the head. It was about one and a half metres long, with a long muzzle, and very wide and muscly jaws, at the base. The eyes were yellow, with a small round pupil in the centre of them. There was one ridge above each eye, a few inches long. And, protruding from the upper jaw (the lower jaw slotted easily into the upper jaw) were long, sharp, backwards-pointing teeth. They were yellowed with age, and looked serrated.
The whole animal stood about twenty-five to thirty feet long. It took three steps out of its cover, revealing a strong, thick tail, and brownish stripes down its back. Dodgson now estimated the creature’s length in excess of forty feet. The dinosaur was now ten feet from the men. It was standing in front of them, to the left of the doors. The path was to the right.
Its nostrils flared, and it inhaled sharply a few times. Its eyes roved around, looking for something.
Looking for us, Dodgson thought. This surely was the famous Tyrannosaurus rex. As it looked for the men, Dodgson thought about its supposed dominance. He was surprised. In his terror he was thinking about such things as this monster’s wellbeing. He was more worried about his own, he decided.
Then, as if seeming frustrated, the Tyrannosaurus roared. It was a thousand years of terror, mixed with primal fury, all wrapped up to create a sound so incredibly horrifying that it made all four men move at once: Johnn and Brock began firing their weapons and running for the path, Dodgson tearing desperately after them, followed at length by Dash.
Dodgson turned back and saw the tyrannosaur close its massive jaws around Dash—it had covered the ten foot distance in a second—and pick him up. He yelled frantically, as the rex shook him and threw him into the trees, stalking in after him.
Dodgson resumed his frantic sprinting, the noise of the tyrannosaur feasting spurring him to greater speeds than he thought capable of himself.
8/28/2003 7:22:47 AM
Comment on this fan fiction!
|
|
|
