Jurassic Park: Chaos Theory

Okay here is Chapter thirteen. I'm more then a bit surprised at the popularity of this fan-novel. Really, if you're reading this and enjoy the story so far, please write down a comment. I listen to comments or suggestions, and would appreciate feedback. For the loyal readers who have read every chapter up to now, I hope you enjoy this one....

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Black Noise

The rain had dissipated somewhat by this time, although there were muddy piles everywhere. Their distribution was somewhat patchy; although Baxter found that by the time he was down the hill his shoes were Dang soggy and grime-covered. He reasoned that he would have to get some new ones after this was all over. The wind was a bit chilly in the absence of rain, and it sent goose bumps down his arms. The tent was within sight, just as he remembered it.

He rubbed his hands as he tried to shake off the cold. Shaun Baxter wished he were inside right now, anywhere but out here. The trees swayed in the breeze, leaves still dripping with the product of the rains. It was a Dang nightmare hiding somewhere in there he thought to himself. Shaking his head, he tried to put it out of his mind, but wasn’t very successful. His hands were shaking, even as he rubbed them. It would be all right; it would be all right.

Leave it to the professionals; they knew what they were doing. The problem would take care of itself, and they could all leave. As long as they knew and followed the rules of the show, everybody could go their own way. He felt a grin creep over his face, as he took a short breath. His compensation was in the bag for now; he’d see what he could work out with James for the rest of them. It was really too bad about Marty, but in a way, Baxter was silently envious of him. The amount paid to keep him silent would surely be a substantial amount… the man would probably never have to work a day in his life.

There it was…the jeep. It was one of the more dated models though it should still work. The paint was chipped along the side, and he could tell that at one time it had been yellow. Faded now, with dirt flecking all around the sides. It was a rental, and peeking inside he could see that there was easily over fifty thousand miles on that odometer. Some Dang fool hadn’t adjusted the top covering correctly and so there was a large partition to the side where it had formerly been lopsided. The wind had blown that part even further up, and the entirety of the front and passenger seats were absolutely drenched. The windshield was slightly cracked across the center, and he could see where it had fogged up in the night.

He tried the door, relaxing a bit when he realized it was unlocked. If he had looked down he would’ve seen the barman’s footprints still fresh, almost where he’d been standing. As it was the delayed progress of the other man didn’t even register on his thought processes to the slightest degree. He immediately looked where the lady doctor had said. Under the seat. So he looked first under the driver’s seat, nothing. Wait. There was a tray of sorts, with a removable lid. He gently took the tray, and in the light he could see the lid was open. Shaking it upside down into his palm he was surprised to not hear the familiar jingle and rattle of keys. In fact, when he ripped the lid of entirely he saw there were none in here at all.

Well that sucked to the ninth degree, he thought bitterly as he threw the empty package onto the seat. Turning around again, Baxter looked under the remaining seats, starting with the front passenger seat. Hell he even looked in the glove compartment. No dice. He was starting to think that the barman had taken it if anything. Where would he have gone of course was the main question. He admitted that it was not immediately in his power to answer that. For a graduate student, getting no answers immediately was one of the most frustrating things possible.

There was no smell of alcohol in the vehicle, meaning the man hadn’t gone to the bar first. So maybe he’d taken the keys then to the bar after? It didn’t really make sense he thought to himself. The mud seemed somehow slipperier as he backed away and shut the door. Mainly because he was retracing the steps he’d already walked, and erasing those of the barman. But when he looked to his right, he saw the bar. The door was open, though no lights were on in the building. He couldn’t see anything and that should’ve bothered him though it didn’t really. The man probably knew the inside of that by memory by now. Well maybe he needed some help in there.

It had been ten minutes by his reckoning that the barman had been gone. Maybe he’d better go check just to be sure. There was always the possibility of hotwiring the car, but right now that wasn’t such a good idea. With the roof the way it was… another rain would cause it to short out in no time. No…he needed the keys to get anywhere and without it the entire jeep was a five-ton waste of space. Reluctantly Baxter turned away from the jeep, noticing the trail of footprints leading to the bar. None leading out, meaning the bastard was probably still in there. Couldn’t entirely blame him though, a sight like today would drive even the most abstinent man to drink.

As he walked towards the bar, he couldn’t help but notice a slight hum in the air. Was there thunder rolling somewhere? Or was it that monster, still rampaging somewhere in the jungle. It sounded far away though, so he soon turned his attention elsewhere. As long as it wasn’t close he didn’t need to pay that much attention to it. Baxter craned his neck into the open door, feeling a pale breeze. That was strange, or so he thought for a couple of minutes before he noticed the back door was open. Maybe someone had forgotten to close it? Perhaps. Well it wasn’t like someone was going to come in and steal all of the liquor anytime soon were they? There was no sign of the barman, though there was a still and eerie silence around the whole interior of the bar. Kind of creepy actually, even more so since the light from the doors seemed to fade out and die less then five steps in.

He knew that in a place like this the light switch would probably be on the underside of that wooden bar at the far end. “Anybody in here?” he called out, giving the man a chance to come out and save him the trouble of dragging his butt from a bottle. He wanted to be quick about this, after all Dr. Guitierrez could be an butthole sometimes, but it wasn’t like he wanted him to die either. No answer, nor any sign of movement. The back door seemed to move slightly, though there was no breeze. He realized that he couldn’t see the bottom half of the back door, maybe the man was leaning against it and drinking.

That fool…he thought to himself as he took a step in, still holding the doorknob. He heard what sounded like a bird chirping, a very small bird. Strange he thought, even as the humming sound was louder, like it was coming closer. He looked to his right, realizing he could see the service road that served as the entrance to the village. He realized that sound was very familiar almost like… an engine. He suddenly perked up immediately, realizing that if someone were coming then they wouldn’t need the jeep at all.

As he looked back, he realized that the back door had now shut. That was strange; he hadn’t felt a breeze at all. The chirps were closer now, some kind of jungle bird? Baxter had no idea; he’d come here to study lizards not freaking birds. “Get your drunken butt out of there, I think someone’s coming!” He was met again with utter and abject silence. It was like it was mocking him. Well if he had to drag that butthole out from there he would. He let go of the door, grabbing a chair closest to him to prop it up. He didn’t feel much like letting it slam behind him, and leaving him all alone in the darkness.

He wished he had the flashlight now, or at least a cigarette lighter. He could hear the engine puttering somewhere closer; it was probably entering the village by now. All well and good, but without some alcohol, he knew that the injured man’s wound might get infected. He could see the glint of bottles reflecting against the light. Any would do, as long as it wasn’t the hard stuff he figured. He walked slowly, trying not to trip over any tables or chairs in the darkness. He vaguely remembered that the bar had only barely just opened when the helicopter had come in that morning. That meant some patrons might have had a chance to stop by.

Sure enough he turned and saw a glint next to him. Grabbing the bottle, he shook it once. Yes there was that telltale slosh indicating that there was liquid inside. He thought he was quite ready to leave now, meet whoever had arrived. He turned around, but as he did he frowned. He should’ve been able to see the barman he realized, now that he was halfway in the bar. Baxter didn’t like it, and a thought formed in his head. Maybe the man wasn’t here at all? There was always the possibility that he’d just gone out the back door to go home, to get what he didn’t know. Or care for that matter.

He started to walk out, but froze. He could hear it behind him, the chirping sound. Was it anything really to get worked up about? He doubted that very much, just shrugged and shook his head. He was imagining things, probably a result of getting all worked up over the recent events. He swished the bottle around, trying to see the label in the dim light. Maybe a sip or two just to clear his head, Florence Nightingale back there didn’t need all of it now did she? A clear look at the label indicated it was Single Malt Whiskey, strong stuff, almost a tonic in some countries. Cleared your head right up, probably felt like acid on an open wound.

As he lifted the bottle, he felt something rub against his leg. That was odd, the chirping sound was closer now, like it was right next to him. Chickens didn’t chirp, at least to the best of his knowledge. Very odd indeed, and he couldn’t recall ever having seen a single chicken in this place. Maybe he should drink this outside; yes that was probably the best idea after all. He took a step then stopped, he’d been so certain he heard something behind him. He was no longer sure that it was his imagination after all, not sure at all.

Baxter took another step, and this time it was unmistakable, something not just rubbing against his leg, but also nipping at his heels. He swiftly turned around and kicked out sharply and blindly in the dark. There was a sharp squeal, and he felt a chair clatter to the floor in the darkness, like something crashed against it. That wasn’t right was it? He backed away, realizing he was almost at the door. Thankfully he had the doorknob firmly in his hand once again, he could see the light. There was a scuffling sound somewhere in the gloom.

It was getting to its feet, whatever it was. He had a feeling that maybe he should be thinking about closing the door, except that his feet were frozen to the floor. He had an insane desire to see what it was, tell himself it was just some chicken that had wandered in the back. He couldn’t quite explain that momentary paralysis, but felt his fist clench tighter on the neck of the bottle. His head was clear now, he realized, the whiskey was having its intended effect. There was no danger here, just his fevered imagination acting on itself. He would prove it; there was nothing, nothing, and nothing at all. He raised his arm, like he was pitching a baseball, but he wasn’t expecting it to be caught by anything.

“Eat Crap and die!”, he yelled without really thinking.

The bottle said from his hand, seconds before he heard the chirp again, clear as day. His back to the free air, he heard the crash, the sound of glass breaking somewhere inside. The squeal, and the muted but very audible thud that followed. The sound of something jumping out of the way, turning and making a dash for the door. This time there was no hesitation on Baxter’s part at all. He stepped backwards, pulling the door along with him. It slammed shut, seemingly shaking the whole bar with it as well. No Crap Sherlock, that was close whatever it was. For second there it had seemed…

Just to be sure he tried the knob. Keyhole on the outside, thank god it locked from the outside. Turning away he figured to himself that there were other houses in this village. Probably at least one of them had brought a bottle home at some point; it was a pretty good chance he figured. As long as he didn’t have to go back in there, although he couldn’t quite explain his reluctance. Everything in him was telling him it was supremely irrational to react in this way, but all the same. Ed James could’ve offered him the money over again just to open that door but he didn’t really know if he would take it. Turning away, he found himself taking long and deliberate breaths, he’d a bad scare, that was all and the only person who could open the door for him was missing. That was too bad, nothing he could do about that now, nothing whatsoever.

But he heard the humming noise again, looking to his right to see a car slowing down as it approached the bar. Intrigued, Baxter stepped out from the shadow of the bar and called out. The car slowed down some more, finally parking about five or six feet from where he was standing. Pretty fancy actually, leaving Dr. Carter’s jeep looking like a hunk of rusted junk next to it. Who the hell took a new model Hummer out into this jungle up in the mountains? Relatively clean too, barely even any dirt on the windshield. He scratched the back of his neck as the driver’s side opened, and a man got out.

Baxter frowned; it was the last thing he’d been expecting at all. No fatigues or camo for this man, not at all. He wore a beige vest, a tie framing the dress shirt underneath. He was wearing jeans, which seemed so incongruous in comparison to the rest of his garb. The whole of his garb bespoke a man who’d gotten ready in quite a hurry. His hair was disheveled and unkempt, and his eyes were bloodshot. The man stepped out of the hummer; no staggered was more the word to be perfectly honest. Staggered out of that hummer and slammed the door.

Baxter was not sure what to make of this apparition, and for a second he forgot the thing in the bar. “Long drive?” he said, surprised that was the first thing to come out of his mouth. He just didn’t know what to say at all, well here was at least one of his problems solved right now… He looked up again as the man slowly walked towards him, around the car and staring him in the eye. There was a sense upon looking into those eyes, which there was not that much he hadn’t seen.

The man spoke, his voice breaking the silence like a gunshot. “My name’s Richard Levine, do you know if there is a Dr. Guitierrez in this village?”
Somewhere in the distance, he heard the rain begin to resume.
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So now this fanfic has surpassed 4,000 views. I am very surprised and delighted at how many people have read and commented on this work. I hope to keep turning out chapters every week for the forseeable future. So without further ado, I present Chapter fourteen. Please enjoy the ride.

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The Hunt

This Dang jungle was suffocating him on all sides, which was a shame really. It shouldn’t be that hard to track down something that big, not at all. He could hear the sound of it moving in the underbush, the crackling of leaves and branches as its huge hulking mass slid through the jungle somewhere in front of him. But he couldn’t see it at all, not one bit. Ed James wiped the sweat off his brow, as he stared out again into the jungle, trying to even see something, anything in this shitty mess. On top of that it was raining, messing up his vision even further.

He checked his weapon, making sure that the magazine was clicked securely in place. James was confident that he had enough rounds for the purpose, but one could never be sure. Back in Cupertino, they had guaranteed that the dosage would be enough to bring even a rhino down. Dead in its tracks within a minute and a half. So much for that, he thought to himself, thinking about how that dinosaur got lit up like a pincushion and still kept on going. But had they done those Dang lizard trials? He’d sworn over and over to tell the lab to get started on the Dang lizard trials. Some legal thing, PETA getting all upset over alligators now. Utter Crap.

James thought to himself that even if their equipment weren’t worth three buckets of piss, at least they had enough of it. Looking to his left and right, he nodded to his fellow companions, gesturing to them to continue following the path. Even if this jungle was thicker then he’d expected, something that big would have to leave signs, something to follow after all. They were barely half a minute behind it when the chase had begun, and now he wasn’t sure that lead even existed anymore. But he would continue what he had begun, because it was his mission, the ultimate goal that had been unrealized for over ten years.

The mission of Biosyn incorporated actually, to obtain a fantastic revolution that had once upon a time, been brought to conception by INGEN. Twice they had tried, third time was the charm, yes indeed. The mistake the other times had been to try to get them directly from the source, the mouth of the river so to speak. That had been the error, putting themselves in those situations. Even Dodgson himself had made that mistake, and the company as a whole had paid the price for that. Even Rossiter himself had been forced to admit Dodgson had been telling the truth, when his right hand man had never returned.

But here they would change that, reverse the trend and bring Biosyn right into the spotlight of the world. If they could just find the Dang thing. James was a very patient man, but part of him worried, it worried a LOT. What had gone wrong? It should’ve been over quickly, prize in hand and the witnesses paid off. Because what was money going to be once they had the gold? That would mean a nice bonus to him, a prospect he was looking forward to very much. Rossiter would be sure to promote him, maybe even give him a board seat. That would be nice, capping off his rise from a meager espionage agent into one of the chairmen of the entire company. But that would only happen if they succeeded. He was close now, he would not go home empty handed, he swore it on his life, and those of his fellow agents.

“See anything?” he asked the man on his right, who was walking with a high-powered tranquilizer rifle. Many times stronger then the automatic one James was carrying, flip side of that of course he couldn’t shoot that many rounds. So his position was to be a point man, take the animal down while it was distracted. James smiled to himself; he had chosen well he thought. Of all the Biosyn agents he had chosen for his possible team, Fred Jefferson fit the bill just nicely. A man who could concentrate on the task at hand, and not blink, no matter what was facing him.

He observed the way the man just walked through the brush without skipping a beat, any sweat or fear on his face. Either acute bravery, or he was as dumb as a sack of bricks. Either way, he would serve the purpose just fine. Jefferson had been Biosyn’s replacement for Baselton, since their previous PR man had disappeared at the same time as Dodgson. He’d faced that monster in the barn with all of the same stoic indifference that he presented to even the most incongruous press rabble. A good man for the job, and a dedicated one, James couldn’t have done better.

“Not yet,” the man said in a flat and indifferent voice, completely toneless. James noticed with a smirk that the man’s eyes never once diverted to his direction, even when asked a question. “Keep your eyes open,” he said to all of them in particular, swallowing. “The animal could be right next to us and we wouldn’t even see it.” He couldn’t see it, but he could still hear it. They all could, how could anyone possibly miss that? The crunch of the leaves, the cracking of branches as something large passed, no barreled past. That led quickness to their step that he was feeling, now more then ever it seemed. His heart was pounding in his chest, as the three of them moved ever deeper into the foliage. He was still unsure of exactly how close they were to it, or even how far they had gone from the village. It seemed like hours, though he knew in all liklihood it had only been a half hour, an hour at most.

He turned to his left, watching the woman in the camo gear. Silently he wondered if it had been a mistake to bring her along. He could see her, quivering all over. She’d been fine before she went in the barn, smelled the stench of carrion and blood all over the floor. James had tried not to look, Fred hadn’t been bothered at all…but for Megan it had caused her to lose her cool. He had wondered for a second back there if she was going to lose it in front of the witnesses. That might have been bad, make their disguises lack credibility. That was the last thing he needed, especially right here in this Dang jungle, miles from the nearest city.

Bringing women into this had been a mistake, he’d tried to tell Rossiter, but the man wouldn’t listen. Just told him that if anything big was going on in Biosyn she had to be included. Of course, pretty much everyone in the company interpreted that as she was sleeping with the boss. Or Rossiter’s personal secretary/internal spy. Or both. Either way, Ed James wasn’t that comfortable having her along, even though he barely knew her before now. Though he did think he knew pretty much all he needed to know. He had no time personally for people like that, who showed the slightest sign of not being fully committed. He scowled at her, not exactly sure what to say, maybe better not to say anything at all.

He tried to focus back on the jungle, looking into the foliage around him. He was no longer sure where exactly they were. There certainly wasn’t a trail behind them, at least not one he could make out. Were they lost? That was one thing he certainly did not want to bring up to either of his companions, and especially not himself. No they wren’t lost, it was just a matter of retracing their steps that was all. He patted the GPS tracker attached to his belt. As long as they had this they could get back anytime they wanted too, quite simple really. He just needed to make a call, on the satphone Jefferson had, and the helicopeter would be ready to pick them up whenever. It was important not to put too much stock in one person, spread it all out.

Was it just him or were the trees thinning out a bit? The rain was still driving as relentlessly as ever, but he could see a bit more in the jungle he was noticing. Hopefully that signified they were going to some open spot, though only time would tell. His grip on his weapon tightened, eyes scanning the ground and ahead of him constantly. There was sweat running down his forehead and face, but it was mixing with the raindrops so that should be okay for now as well. He could hear the thundering footfalls, they all could. Louder now, but the direction was still unclear. He realized that the animal could be going in circles around them and they wouldn’t have a Dang clue.

Not exactly a comforting thought, and that was exactly why he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. Now if only- he thought he saw a break in the trees up ahead, branches broken right above his head in what was a tell-tale sign. It had passes through here, not that long ago. “Check your weapons,” James said matter-of factly the others, as they went in, Jefferson leading the way. They all followed shortly, entering into a small forest glade. Barely five- by- five feet it was one of those little gaps in the jungle you wouldn’t even notice from the air. No grass grew on the floor, the foliage of the jungle was too close for that, too overgrown. But there was light here, what passed for light amongst the pale gloom in the morning rain anyway.

Not that they were paying that much attention to the sights though, there was a strong stench around, like carrion. It wafted into your nostrils and into your sinuses. Drifting up into your olfactory senses and it was like you had been born with the smell and would never be rid of it because it was also a part of you. And your eyes watered and your nose itched and your mouth ran dry, because you desperately wanted to be rid of it but you know that was impossible. The smell was all around them, and it was evident why, very much so. The reason none of them was standing in the glade proper, but just around it sort of, hugging the fringes almost wanting to escape into the woods.

The carcass on the jungle floor had been there maybe minutes, if not less so. Yet it looked as if it had been torn apart by a pack of wild dogs. Well it was about the correct size, James thought to himself as he nudged it a bit with his foot. To his left he could see Megan looking a bit green, trying to look anywhere but at them or the floor. To his right, Jefferson was already aiming with the rifle, trying to ascertain the safety of the area. There was something odd, James thought as he noticed the glint of the light on the animal’s skin. Almost unrecognizable the way it had been torn up, but there were still a few bits of skin left. Feeling a loose fragment of skin in his hands, he watched almost absently as the blood rolled down his arm as he held it up to the light. He felt goosebumps down the back of his neck and it was like a fly caught in his throat. Could it be? So soon?

Ed James had sort of expected this, what with the constant rumours flying out of Costa Rica. In fact, it was the main reason why he’d paid Baxter the money upfront; to tip him off if something like this was found. Well dead it was no use to him, but something out there was very much alive. In this dim light, he turned it over, his fingers feeling the unmistakable pebbled texture of the skin, the green and brown colors fading away upon death. He let it fall from his hand as he stood up, frowning now. There was something else wrong, he realized, very, very wrong.

For one, the pattern of the kill wasn’t right, short broad slashes all over the carcass. Not something a giant carnivore like the other dinosaur would’ve been capable of. Not in the slightest, and he knew that anything less would merely be lying to himself. The stench was also wrong he realized, something dead for barely minutes shouldn’t smell this gawdawful. This kill had preceded them for hours, if not an entire day. James backed up, shaking his head and looking at the others, at a loss for words. He felt like he was forgetting something, something important and basic…something like.

He realized what it was. A large dinosaur like that and it had not killed all three of them the minute it had broken out of the barn. He knew from overseeing Biosyn’s animal research that reptiles had unusually acute sense of smell. That made sense, why go to all the trouble of hunting down your own prey… when you could take over from someone else? Of course that made sense, but then there was an even more obvious question… the dinosaur had just barreled down here in pretty much a direct line right to the glade. Why had it just bypasses it? He looked around quickly, lifting his weapon slowly. Because maybe it never meant to bypass the carcass at all, he thought with a frightening suddenness. The rain wasn’t pouring down hard enough to disguise the amount of sweat running down his face, down his hands and his brow.

Why hadn’t it gone directly for the kill? He asked himself again. There seemed to be only one explanation for it, one that made any sense at all. It had circled around, checking the area to see if whoever had made the kill was still around. Only then would the animal perceive the carcass as safe to feed upon for fear of interruption. But that meant if it didn’t detect anything, the dinosaur would circle back, because the kill would be safe, become part of it’s territory- His thoughts were interrupted by a scream, and looking to the side he could see Megan’s face was pale and ashen, and she was screaming like a banshee.

James was going to have come up with some snappy remark, maybe reprimand her, but then he turned his head to see what she was so scared of. In that moment, he noticed the light in the glade began to dilute ever so slightly. The north side, directly opposite from them, that was where the light was coming in. But now it was refracted, almost transculent in its vibrancy. And even now as Ed James squinted he could see the rain giving away the form of some large shape. Blended perfectly with the trees, making a perfect mockery of their camouflage outfits, Mother Nature always did it better. He realized he couldn’t speak for a second, before the light bent again, and he realized it was moving. Oh god… It’s head was now in view and he could see those two terrible horns again in the profile.

The second time now something that big and he hadn’t seen it. His gun felt absurdly small and useless in his hands as he lifted it but felt all the strength go out of his arm. He heard a scuffling noise to the side, and he didn’t even have to turn his head to see what he knew. The bitch had lost all nerve and ran blindly back through the jungle. Well he could stand his ground here, he thought to himself. He nodded to Jefferson, gesturing to him to aim that rifle, aim it high. He found himself backing up again, bumping into the other man as the creature’s profile became increasingly more visible.

The animal roared, taking a huge step towards him. James heard a shot, and the rifle bucked once, the recoil sending the gun coming down hard on his shoulder. Dang that hurt he thought to himself, but he quickly forgot his minor pain. The dinosaur was shaking its head, and as it turned, James could see the dart in the side. Now they got it, he thought to himself. Now they got it…. He lifted his own weapon in turn, pulling back the safety and ready to shoot more of the lesser tranquilizers into the thing. He did so, watching the animal attempt to bite the needle in its side. Hasta la vista, he thought as he pressed down on the trigger.

Click. The sound seemed so loud in the jungle, as James hurridly tried to fix it. Stupid piece of Crap, he should’ve been more skeptical when the engineers had presented him with an automatic tranquilizer. But there was really no room to curse it now. Because he could see the other needle in the animals mouth. It had ripped it out of its side, and was now spitting it on the ground. It took a step, and roared, right in his face. That of course was when James lost all nerve and turned away. Pushing Jefferson to the side he didn’t even look to see if the man had started to run away. Maybe he had maybe he hadn’t His loss if he didn’t. Looking back, he could see the creature taking another step, its full bulk filling at least half the glade.

He broke into a run, dropping the gun as he ran. He could hear footfalls behind him, most likely Jefferson deciding to follow his lead. No, the smell behind him was of carrion and rotting flesh, it could only be one thing. Twigs snapped and branches broke as fear gave legs to Ed James. He ran and ran until he lost all sense of shape or time. There was only the breaking of branches and the snap of twigs. Just keep running he told himself that was the only way to stay alive. If he stopped, if he slowed down for even one
second he knew he was dead, worse then dead. Lost forever in this forest.

And he knew his plan was crumbling apart at the seams, unraveled at record pace. From supreme confidence one second, to running for his very life the next.

I will take this time to thank everyone who has taken the time to read this, and continue with it. Please enjoy chapter Fifteen, as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Singularity

Richard Levine only went back to the jeep once, to get a bottle of water. He paused a bit leaning over the front seat, biting his lip and frowning. Something didn’t seem right, he felt. Maybe it was just a gut feeling or whatever, but something was really off. Couldn't tell exactly what though.

Shrugging, he took a power bar out of his pocket, unwrapped it and took a bite. Taking a quick drink of water to gulp it down, he looked out his windshield at the kid standing out there. A bit shifty, he thought to himself, but otherwise looked just as vanilla as any ordinary twenty something you’d find out there in the states. If there was anything off about him, Levine thought he would know.

Wrapping up the candybar wrapper absentmindedly, Levine put it back in his pocket. Opening the door, he took out his water bottle with him, just in case he had to trek a bit. Walking toward the kid now, he nodded his head. “So you said Dr. Guitierrez is indeed here?” That seemed an obvious question since the kid had already said ‘yes’, but he thought it needed an answer regardless. Sort of strange how some random kid who was obviously a graduate student would be wandering about by himself in a remote Costa Rican Village.

“Yes…” the kid looked down, and slightly to the side. He seemed very uncomfortable, almost pale even. Levine couldn’t quite figure out why, but he figured he was going to find out. “You see…he’s not exactly available right now and…” The kid took a breath, scratching the back of his neck. Was he nervous about something? It was hard to tell, especially now.

“Do you know where he is then?” Levine wasn’t exactly making eye contact; he only did that for people he knew were being honest with him. Which was exactly why the board always complained that he was ‘unreadable’ or some Crap. Tough luck, he thought, it was just one of those things that always seemed to come up sooner or later. He knew this was where Marty must be…the GPS had traced him here. It didn’t look like a very large village, so he figured Marty must be somewhere around here, it was just a question of where exactly.

“Look,” The kid, said after a pause. “He was injured, though I can’t really say more then that. Basically I need to get some…first aid stuff, but I think it might be in one of the houses around here.” On the face of it, it seemed like a likely story, though maybe not holding up the best under further examination. Levine decided to let the kid go at that though. If he felt like telling the truth later, he was going to do so anyway. In the meantime, Levine would get to the bottom of this all sooner or later. He preferred sooner, as a mater of course.

“Just take me along for the ride,” he said, his upper lip curling as he pressed down his vest. Too hurried for a day’s work he thought, way too Dang hurried. That was what you got for hopping on a plane before the board could figure out that you weren’t going to make the meeting after all. The flipside of course was that he hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since then, not even on the plane. He’d been too much on edge, the image of that grainy cell phone picture burned in his mind. This kid wasn’t doing much to relieve his unease, probably worsening it as a matter of fact.

“Whatever,” the kid said, and it almost sounded resentful. “Go and follow me if you want, notice I didn’t ask you what the hell you were doing here.” Levine squinted at Baxter, wondering how many years ago this little Crap had lost all respect for authority. Well, he thought its Marty’s student not mine, glad he’s not my responsibility, seemed like a pain in the butt so far. Well that was just his first impression; he decided he would wait until at least an hour before making up his mind, though he doubted it would change anytime soon. So he just nodded, and followed behind as the kid started walking.

In the distance he heard it begin to rain, meaning they only had a couple minutes before the storm front brought the rain over here. He could see it had rained not that long ago; large stretches of the dirt clearings were still muddy. Here and there were pools were the water had settled into depressions deep enough that they wouldn’t run off right away. He made a mental note not to drive his hummer into any of those, might short the Dang transmission. Well you learned from the past, and he’d not been so Dang foolish as to come here unprepared, not so foolish. He noticed that they seemed to be heading in a northerly direction; they were already past the bar he figured.

He wasn’t exactly sure where the kid thought he was going but he figured he was just going to let him lead the way. Wondered vaguely why Marty needed a medical kit that bad, probably scraped his knee or some Crap. At least he hoped so, the village seemed awfully quiet like everyone just got up and left. That was really suspicious in itself, and to be perfectly honest he felt the silence unnerving. The trees swayed in the wind, seeming to mock all mankind. He shivered, noticing a huge pile of trash behind the bar as they passed by it. It smelled god-awful, even with that small patch of trees right next to it to even out the smell.

Had something died in there? He didn’t really know or care because he saw the row of houses they were approaching. Not bad, he thought to himself, for a hick village in the middle of nowhere. There didn’t seem to be any people around this side either, even though there were four or five houses in a row here. Right up against the treeline, he noticed almost as an afterthought. Really not that close but still…. He narrowed his eyes as he looked down at the ground again. They seemed to be following a trail of prints in this mud, really faint as to be discernable but unmistakably there. They led out to one of the houses, which one he couldn’t tell just yet.

But it had to be where the kid was getting his sense of direction from. Levine didn’t really have a whole lot to say to him, even as they approached the house at the far side of the block. Immediately Levine’s eyebrow arched once again, and he gave the kid a quizzical look. The door was open, and in the dim light within, he could see muddy footprints trailing off. Pretty unexpected, but hey Levine wasn’t running this show right now. Clearly they were following someone, and right now Levine just needed some more answers. Not now exactly, but eventually seemed like a nice, reasonable goal to shoot for. Though maybe Marty could find a Graduate student just a bit more talkative as well….

They entered in solemn silence, or was it awkwardness? Levine didn’t really have anything to say to the kid so he set his water bottle on the table next to the door. Taking his power bar out, he heard the kid immediately head to the kitchen area. Well sort of, it was combined with the living room space as well. It seemed like he was rather busy after all, and there was a draft anyway. Probably the kid wouldn’t mind at all, if he… Levine reached over and closed the door behind him. Better, he thought, a thought striking him. The muddy footprints on the ground didn’t match up to the area the kid was searching. Not exactly saying a lot, but enough to make someone stop and think.

Levine took the PowerBar out of his pocket, unwrapping it and taking another bite. He took a few steps, looking back in the kitchen to check. The kid didn’t seem all that interested in him; care much for that matter. He shrugged, the feeling was getting to be mutual about this time, he thought to himself. There were the prints, time to see where those led while he was at it. So he turned around, noticing that the trail led down the hall to the right. He walked slowly, taking a few bites out of his power bar every now and then. The noise from the kitchen was quite a ruckus, but as you got further down the hall it wasn’t that bad. Not at all, to be honest. It wasn’t a long hallway, he was through it in less then a minute to be exact, but he saw where the tracks ended. Oh yes he did. It was only then that a couple of other details became apparent to him, almost at the same time, really.

One. The tracks were somewhat fresh. Levine was no expert in this matter, but he deduced that they must be at least somewhere from twenty to thirty minutes old. Maybe sooner, but it didn’t make sense, not in the way that he was hoping. If the kid had been following a trail over here, the man who first went to get the first aid kit or whatever should’ve been back by then. The village wasn’t really that big, but that was just his first general impressions. Something had distracted the man, from whatever purpose he might have originally had.

Two. The back door was open, swinging in the breeze. As Levine drew closer he could see the footprints disappearing out into the dirt beyond. He went to shut the door, but paused in the doorway, wondering why he did so. There was absolutely no reason for the man to have used the back door, or as far as he knew. Looking out on the dirt, he saw the prints only continued for a bit. Right up to the tree line, which wasn’t really that far as he could see. In fact, it was probably less then seven or ten feet to the trees. For whatever reason, the prints stopped halfway there. He leaned forward, trying to see better. The light was okay, but the clouds were still overhead, giving everything sort of a dull luster.

Richard Levine blinked, just to make sure he was seeing this right. Where the footprints stopped there seemed to be a sort of depression. No that wasn’t exactly describing it either, not in the least. It was really strange because the area right in front of it was all worked up, almost as if… He was straining to remember, because it had been so long really, if you could call five years all that long of a time. But it matched the characteristics of everything. He took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair. He realized he knew why the mud was all worked up and flattened. It was very simple, the explanation out in front of him. Then something else drifted into his mind, something from equally long ago.

The mud was flattened…drag marks he thought to himself. What was that Grant had said back at that conference in Peking? Not the first time, the second time he’d managed to catch him, this time with Malcom in tow so the man couldn’t deny everything. Oh yes… not from the front…. Levine felt his grip on the doorknob tighten as he took a half step back. His sweat was rolling down his face, and somewhere he heard thunder rolling. He heard a low whistle, and took that as his cue.

He drew back a breath, and stepped back quickly, slamming the door after him. It made the house shake, but Levine didn’t care. He dropped his powerbar on the ground, and reached for the bolt on the latch. Not a moment too soon, it seemed, for suddenly he heard a thump outside. Right where he’d been standing not a second before. He thrust the bolt back, hearing that click on the latch. Grants words coming back again… as he stepped back, not daring to breath. But from the side…. He backed up slowly, eyes still on the door. From what he could hear the kid was still in the kitchen, maybe he could just give him a heads up here.

He could see the kid stepping into the hall in the corner of his eye as he looked back. “The hell you doing old man?” What a disrespectful punk, Levine thought to himself, they weren’t even that much separated, perhaps ten, twelve years at most he was guessing. Levine was about to ask him to shut the hell up, even though he was still unsure what the situation was exactly. However he paused as he heard a sound unnerved the hell out of him. Like something trying to break the door down. Looking at the kid he could see his eyes widening, and his face going pale. Yeah, now you’re going show some respect kid, he thought.

It came again, and this time it was clear what it was. Some large force was banging against the back door, as if trying to shove it by force. But Levine had locked that sucker tight, there was no opening it that way and the door was solid. He took a step forward, hesitantly. Yes, there was no way anybody-or anything was going to get in. He didn’t know who was, but he figured it to be some crazy lunatic. After all, this was just a normal village in the middle of nowhere right? At least he thought so, but that image of the cell phone picture was still very much burned into his brain…

Then there was silence, whoever, or whatever it was didn’t try for a third time. Levine wasn’t sure if that meant they were gone or… He realized something else, something he’d discussed many times before. Pushing the kid roughly to the side, he ducked into the bedroom, noticing with relief that the window there wasn’t big enough to break through. However, he noticed a shadow fell across the room, as something broke through the light. There it was, only barely just as a flicker in the side. A trick of the light or…He felt a pressure behind him, turning his head realized it was the kid trying to see in. See what the old man’s worked up about.

When he turned his head back of course it was gone. “Hell,” he muttered under his breath as he pushed his way back into the hall. Was it just a trick of the light? His fevered brain working too hard in the past twenty-odd hours? He definitely hadn’t gotten enough sleep that was for Dang sure. That was definitely something to consider, and he couldn’t exactly discount that possibility entirely. Taking a step forward, he froze again, feeling unable to swallow. The back door was locked right? Yes, he’d checked that for himself, there was no doubt about that, not at all. It came back to him, what he’d been thinking before.

Misdirection. Oh god, that was what it was. The front door he’d just slammed it behind him, without even a look back. He felt the goosebumps rise on the back of his neck as the doorknob was turning slowly. He could even now hear the scrape of metal against claws….

Synchronization

Fred Jefferson was never quite sure what had happened next. He didn’t blink or move a muscle when the dinosaur revealed itself out of the bushes. Nor had he even so much turned his head when the bitch ran off screaming into the woods. His boss turning chicken and leaving him out to dry was unexpected, but not enough to make him lose concentration. He kept his weapon trained on the beast, waiting until the right moment. He was watching the animal intently, waiting to see what it would do. He stepped off to the side, eyes never leaving the beast.

It turned its head, stared right at him. Jefferson stared right back, his mouth drawn into a hard line. There was a long pause, the two of them sizing each other up. The dinosaur’s breath was foul and rank, of carrion and dead flesh. It took a step forward, and from the side, he could see its bulk in a way he hadn’t noticed before. Jefferson slowly undid the latch on his gun, reloading it for another shot. But as he did so, the animal lifted its head, jaw opened wide. It roared, not ear-splittingly loud… just a raw deep growl that echoed around the glade. It traveled through the forest, the call of one hunter to another. A challenge…

Jefferson realized then why it had made no move towards the carcass. Something trapped in a barn all its life. It doesn’t want to be fed; it wants to hunt. Realizing this, he stepped back some more, careful not to turn his back. His hunch was proven right in a second, as it stepped over the carcass, its head going back in the direction that James had run. Sniffing the air, it took another step, and Jefferson took a rare breath. As the huge animal entered the foliage, he could see its color changing, matching the surroundings almost like a Chameleon. It moved so stealthily, for something that size…

And almost as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Right after James he figured, Dang fool made himself a target by running. If that animal chased him down it was his own bloody fault. He waited a minute or two, just to see if the animal would come back. It was only after hearing the snaps and crackling of the branches did he allow himself to lower his gun. Now he could finally focus on other things…important things such as how to get the hell back to the camp. He had the satellite phone on him, but needed a bigger clearing then this to get a good signal. He turned around, taking the phone out and checking the dial. Yes, definitely needed a larger opening here.

He wouldn’t relax, not until he’d gotten into a building back in the village and locked the door behind him. The carcass on the jungle floor had been subtle proof of that; he was not alone in this jungle. But whatever had killed it had probably been scared away by the other dinosaur. A top predator like that…could sense other predators a mile away. He shook his head, grinning very faintly as he made his way through the brush. James could go back the hard way, even with his thousand-dollar gadget. He’d been probably the only one paying attention on their way here, mentally recording each twist and turn as they had originally pursued the beast.

To hell with that, he knew what he was going to tell them when he made that call. They needed more men; three wasn’t going to be enough to stop that thing. It was just an animal but also…. Something more then that. The product of sixty-five million years of pent up rage and aggravation. It had already been demonstrated that their arsenal was woefully ill equipped for it, as demonstrated how their bold ‘hunting party’ had already been split apart at the first sign of a confrontation. Probably a number around 5 or 10 people was more likely of an approximation in his opinion. He just needed to make that call though; he didn’t think he was that far.

It seemed like it was, but Jefferson knew that was because of how winding the path here had been. He got a sense of their general direction, and if he could just follow that… He would be there in no time he was sure. Why already he was reading on familiar ground, that he’d covered on the way. He took out the phone, ducking under a tree branch as he did so. Just making sure it had enough battery; he clicked it on, hearing the static and crackle. Yes, because there wasn’t enough reception here, the foliage was too Dang thick. Looking up again, he was unable to duck as a branch whipped across his face.

Dang thing stung like hell, but barely broke skin. Sure his cheek was bleeding a bit but… Other then that he was fine. He shook his head, trying to wipe some of the blood off with his free hand. He wiped it down on his pants, not really paying any attention at all. That was because he could already see the light ahead of him. He was surprised that he’d apparently gotten through so soon. Yes, he was making brisk progress, much swifter then usual. Sure the foliage was thinning out a bit, it just meant that he was closer then he’d expected. Because he’d just taken the direct route instead of winding around like they had originally done.

He held his rifle up, cautiously keeping watch for anything unexpected. You never know when something could just appear at any second… But there was no noise at all from around him, the jungle was particularly silent, noticeably so in fact. Not a single chirp of birdsong or even so much as a cricket. He shook his head, trying to focus right now. He broke through the bushes, squinting a little as the sunlight shone brightly in his face. He stood stock-still, taking stock of his situation and where he was exactly. It wasn’t exactly the same place, he realized immediately. For one thing, the hill leading up to the barn was directly to his right.

There was sort of a low fence, ringing the area he’d come out of. Also, as he made his way further out, he had to walk around some waist high stones. Tombstones. He was walking in a graveyard, where all bones of the past inhabitants were to rest in peace forever. He felt a strange feeling, not quite a shiver, but rather strangely cold. He could make the call here of course, but it didn’t seem quite right. Besides, he could see the clouds starting to move in, he needed some sort of shelter if he was to make any sort of call. He would have to do it quick, before he got really drenched. Rossiter had been too Dang cheap to get them waterproofed gear…

He looked around, stepping over the gate as he did so. Just looking for any solid building. There were a few tents to the south of him, but he didn’t really want to take that chance. Who knew how many drops it took to short the phone? He certainly didn’t want to be stuck out here without any means of communication or transportation. There were a few other buildings in the far distance, but none of them seemed all that secure. They had too many windows, no way of adequately checking all of the entrances or exits. He needed someplace he could make the call, and sit tight until reinforcements arrived.

A large building somewhere around the center of the village caught his eye. High windows, large, imposing frame… he’d noticed it while organizing the evacuation of the village earlier. It seemed like the idea place in which to make the call. He felt a tinge of rain on his shoulder, and the musty scent if the oncoming storm. He gripped his rifle in both hands, and started into a half run, his sweat streaming down his cheeks with his effort. His feet pounded the pavement, as he rain started behind him. There was no time to go around to the front; the back door to the bar was more accessible. He could see it easily now, impossible to miss really. There was a large clump of trees right behind the building, a unique feature in the village to be quite honest.

As he drew nearer, the first thing he noticed was that godawful smell. People just threw their trash right behind the bar? There was really no time to stop and see where it was coming from; the rain was too close for that. But it did really smell likes something had died here. No time for that, he thought…. as he quickly tried the doorknob. Open, thank god, he thought blankly as he stumbled inside. Just as it really began to come down out there. He stepped back a bit, and realized he was in pitch darkness. No way to see a Dang thing in here, he realized after a second or two. That was all right, he just needed to stay near the door anyhow. Just make one simple call- two seconds really.

There was an overturned chair near the door, Jefferson leaned his rifle against the wall and used the chair to prop the door up. There, that would ensure enough light at least. He turned on the phone, his grin widening just a bit as the crackle and static slowly faded away. A green light near the top indicated that it was now ready to use, and thankfully, he knew the number by heart. He already knew what to say, a horrible, horrible accident yes. He felt the smooth wood of the bar as he leaned over, waiting for the tone to indicate that it was ready to talk. Causalities…two at least, maybe more. They had no chance really, we were underprepared.

All dead, no survivors. Yes, I checked. He turned his head, while waiting for the satphone to run down all its checks, and his eyes immediately caught the glisten of bottles. We’ll toast them, James and the Bitch. We’ll toast their memories. Even if they come back, we’ll toast their memories. All dead. No survivors. We’ll make sure of that, Jefferson alone gets the bonus. He grabbed a bottle with his free hand, popped the lid off. Slammed it down on the bar, and started searching for a shot glass. He was a bit caught up; he almost missed it when the phone began ringing. Right off, the echo a bit louder then he would’ve liked in this gloom. It caught in distant corners… bounced back over table edges. Slightly unnerving yes, but nothing to be worried about, not at the present moment at least. He turned around, trying to see the signal better in the gloom.

Something brushed by his leg, and instinctively, Jefferson kicked out at it. He heard a small thud to his right that made him pause for a moment before shaking his head. He must be very tired if he was starting to hear noises as well. He shook his head, and pressed the button to respond. The fact that it was ringing just meant he had made a connection; it might take up to a minute or so for a human to pick up the line. He paced around impatiently, looking out the door at the rain. It sure was coming down in buckets…. Or so he thought idly while waiting for someone to come pick up the phone. He noticed that the rain had caused a bit of the trash heap to slide forward, and the smell was even stronger.

There was a chirping noise, like some birds in a tree. Strange, you’d think they would avoid a downpour like this. Well that was what conventional wisdom would seem to suggest right? He was about to turn away, when he caught a glimpse of something coming out of the nearby trees. Like little lizards, about knee height-Clearly bipedal, moving in little hops as they climbed on top of the trash pile. There were about five or six of them in total, hopping and chirping as they moved. Jefferson frowned, trying to recall the briefing, had it said anything about this? They were digging in the heap now, trying to get something underneath.

Something about them rubbed Jefferson the wrong way, and he took a step back. Whatever these were, they hadn’t noticed him yet, although he didn’t think he recognized them from any of the local fauna. He had his hand on the door, and was ready to close it. At least he was halfway to closing it when he felt a small nip on his leg. The one part where he’d lifted the pant leg in order to step over the gate and forgotten to pat back down… He looked down to his side. In the gloom he could see them, their eyes glistening in the darkness. About three of them, and one was standing on the chair he’d used to prop the door open. Same kind of lizard as outside, he wondered vaguely how they’d managed to get in without him noticing…unless they already had been.

Gritting his teeth with rage, he pulled the chair back, so that it fell out under the bar. The animal fell with an unearthly shriek, onto its three companions. “Serves you right,” Jefferson muttered under his breath. He put the phone up to his ear as he closed the door. There was increased chirping outdoors, probably agitated by their friend’s predicament. Well let them chirp, he thought, he had a call to make. He leaned back down on the bar, looking down. Somehow when he’d closed the door, he’d accidently disconnected the call. He started to dial again; he knew this number pretty much by heart now. He put the phone on the bar as he leaned down to go bring his rifle up. There was a silent thump above him as he turned back carrying the gun in his other hand.

The lizard-thing was on the bar top as he got back up. It lunged forward, jaws snapping at his face. Only his quick reaction kept that thing from his face, as his hands grabbed its neck. The phone clattered to the bar surface, and he could hear the dial tone as the call started connecting. He half turned, using all his momentum to throw the lizard into the wall of bottles behind him. He heard clinking and breaking of glass as the animal squealed in pain. “That does it!” He shouted, his triumph turning into a howl, as he hopped again in pain. Another nip or two on his exposed ankle sent him stumbling forward. He tripped over the fallen chair, his arms scrambling for purchase on something, anything.

He grasped the door handle to stop himself, just in time apparently. The handle turned under his sudden weight, but he didn’t let go as he propped himself up. The chirps continued behind him, he could see their eyes following them. The gun was over their on the bar, he thought he could just about reach it now. They were getting closer, and he stepped forward to try to scare them away. But he never let go of that handle, or to be more accurate he had forgotten too. The extra impetus was enough however, the door opened behind him. Jefferson turned his head as he realized what he’d done. He tried to close it, but it was one second too late.

The other five lizards outside rushed in so fast he barely had a moment to process it. The speed caused him to stumble back instinctively, right onto the fallen chair. He steadied himself on the edge of the bar, leaning and taking a few ragged breaths. He made a grab for the phone, a light on the side telling him he finally had a person on the other end. Just as he was about to respond, he felt a pressure on the back of his legs. They were climbing him, Jefferson realized in horror. There were one or two on him, and he could feel nips on the back of his leg. He set the phone down hauling himself to the top of the bar where he could get away.

However, he miscalculated how much force he needed to apply. No sooner had he rolled onto the bar, did he abruptly fall over the other end. The phone, the bottle and the rifle clattered to the floor pushed by his weight. Groaning, he tried to get up, it felt like he’d hit his knee on a barstool, it was strangely numb. And he was tired…so tired all of a sudden. He saw in the dim light the top of the bar. All of the lizards were on top now, he couldn’t figure out how. Before he could say anything or get up, they were on him. Biting and scratching his arms, his face, and his legs. He scrambled up, grabbing a chair for balance. He could hear the person on the other end of the phone asking who was there, who was there? Grabbing the phone from the chair seat, he started to answer.

“Listen,” he said slowly, limping away towards the tables. Maybe he could get onto one, kick away the other chairs. They wouldn’t be able to follow him there. He felt his eyes drooping; he just needed a rest was all. He was too overworked, and too tired from all the excitement of today. He made his way through the semi-darkness, hearing the chirps following him. The other end of the phone was asking for his identification number, did he have his identification number ready? “Yes, we have your number all day,” he slurred, his head throbbing angrily like there was an animal that wanted to get out. “We have your number all day.” He could see the front doo ahead of him, not that far off actually.

He could make it; he knew he could make it. He extended his hand out; it seemed so near and yet so far away. However, he failed to see that there was still a chair between him and his goal. He fell hard, smashing right into the chair. Groaning, he looked up from the splintered chair, seeing the phone on the floor. He started to get up, grabbing the phone again. However, he felt a weight on his back, coupled with several more brief stabs of pain. The heaviness returned, even more this time. He brought the phone in again, trying to say something, anything. But he slurred his speech as he did so. The door was so tantalizingly close, couldn’t be more then five feet away really. Jefferson staggered on his knees now, trying to make progress, even as the lizards clung fiercely to his back.

He got a few feet before falling down again; Dang those things were heavy. All he wanted in the world was to go outside, and rest. Somewhere nice and soft, away from those creatures. “This is Fred Jefferson calling in….” He was that close, his hand curled around the doorknob, twisting and tugging at it. One was at his shoulder now, nibbling a bit at its ear. He chuckled, grinning at the confusion over the phone. It tickled, he though vaguely. “I have found the Martians and they are us…” He pulled it open, the door falling loosely to the side. He fell down halfway onto the loamy earth, feeling the rain touching down on his back and head.

The phone was blaring beside him. “Who the hell is this? Identify yourself!” But Jefferson didn’t care; he was just going to take a quick nap that was all. Then he would get up, get the hell out of here. His cheek kissing the dirt floor, he dragged the phone in closer. He could feel the rain on his back, the camouflage already having been torn in several places. A lizard hopped off his back, he could vaguely see its head craning down. Almost curious he thought, very, very curious. He cleared his throat, lifting his head dreamily off of the ground. He tried to shoo the lizard out of the way, but it just hopped to the side. Like it didn’t care.

Holding the phone close up to his mouth, he gasped. “This is Fred Jefferson signing out, hold my calls-“ He gagged suddenly; he couldn’t speak any further. The lizard was biting his tongue, tugging at it. He tried to swat at it again and missed. This time, the lizard didn’t move. The rest did however, and Jefferson found he couldn’t swat all of them. Not for lack of trying though, he managed to get a few, but some got through regardless. He couldn’t turn around to get them all because of his tongue, so he had no way of getting the ones that snuck up behind him. If it mattered at all to him by this time, because despite the excruciating pain he was feeling, all he wanted to do was go to sleep.

His eyes drooped down, as he slipped into unconsciousness. So he didn’t even feel it as the compys gently began to nibble on his neck.

Great chapter!

Bite of the Raptor

Levine froze, standing completely still. He couldn’t believe what his ears were telling him, but was forced to believe the evidence of his eyes. That doorknob was turning, it was turning, and the scrape of the metal told him no human hand could possibly be turning it. He’d been somewhat prepared for this after all, he’d not been completely blind to the constant rumors out of Costa Rica. He gripped the kid’s arm, feeling it grow tense without him even having to tighten that grip. Well, at least both of them sensed that there was something very not right about that. But he knew he had only seconds, maybe even less to act on it.

He stepped back, using his free hand to push the kid into the kitchen. Hopefully he’d grown with a bone of sense in his body and wouldn’t talk. Not that it would help much; he knew from experience that it most likely wouldn’t. It might give them some more time though, and that was what Levine most needed right now. To figure out some semblance of a plan. Right now there was none, although he really thought he ought to change that sometime in the near future. Particularly if he wanted to still be breathing in five minutes. Just a random guess on that timeframe though, it might be less. The sweat rolled down his forehead as he heard the door opening, not followed through like a human would…but just allowed to be slammed against the wall by the wind. The noise echoed through the house like a thunderclap, breaking the silence.

He slipped his other hand inside his vest, as he and the kid leaned against the wall right by the door. He could hear the sound of something sniffing, the doorframe possibly? Perhaps. Footsteps out in the hall; tentatively sniffing the air. A scent, anything. Too late he realized that both his hands were empty. Dang! He kept making the same mistakes every time…. It would smell the candy wrapper eventually he realized, even though he couldn’t see it. By the time he saw it though, it would be too fast, and it would be over before he even got a good glimpse. He knew that, which was why he had to be careful. Nobody ever got killed from being too careful, except when they were trying to cover their butt going out the door.

He risked a quick look around, trying to see what else he could do. Any back way out? There was no way in hell they were going by the hall that was for sure. He let go of the kid’s arm, and put a finger to his mouth to indicate that he should be quiet. Make a sound, and they were dead. He could see by the kid’s pale face that he recognized the danger that they were in, even if he was incapable of fully comprehending it. Why, you couldn’t make these people up. He silently wondered if this kid had got his undergraduate in sociology. Probably, but that didn’t matter so much, as getting them all out alive did it. Shush now, he could hear it hesitantly stepping over the threshold.

Any minute now it would start investigating the rooms, he knew. First the bedroom to the side, and then theirs. But it wouldn’t give them that much time either. He saw a small island right in the center of the kitchen, which gave him an idea. It would have to do for now, because even any momentary advantage would have to be seized. Grabbing the kid’s arm again, he pushed him down to the floor. Gesturing in the general direction of the island, he hoped he got the message. If he didn’t that was because it was his own Dang fault for falling asleep during lectures during his undergrad. He opened his vest, revealing a holstered revolver. Taking it out slowly, he crouched low against the island.

He could see something moving in the entrance to the hall. However, he knew better then to try to lift his head to get a better look. Slowly, he clicked back the safety to the revolver. He knew it was a piece of Crap, if he’d actually had time to prepare for this trip, he would have come up with something better. It was true that this was still being better armed then during his trip to Sorna but not by much. He knew he shouldn’t have that that butthole just outside of the airport rip him off like that, but he couldn’t used his credit card at the time in case it was being tracked by the board. So goodbye Rolex that he’d packed at the last second, hello crappy six-shooter that looked as if it was a prop from an old spaghetti western.

At least he had ammunition, he thought after doing a last second check. He already realized that he was probably making too much noise. It would notice, and they would all be in deep Crap. He rose slowly, keeping his gun leveled at the entrance. He kept Grant’s words in his head, slowly repeating them as if they were some sort of mantra. Not from the front….not from the front… There was no motion as he slowly edged forward, not even daring to breathe. He could see the door open from here, wet and muddy tracks leading into the house. None leading out. They were too vague to make out clearly, because the mud tended to stain and spread out on this carpet. Nothing so far, he judged, even as he moved to the side again, to cover the other angle. Like they’d taught him in that police tactics seminar he’d conned the board into paying for. Well only the first day at least, he thought grinning to himself.

There was no sound from inside the house, and he drew in his breath again. He was now directly in front of the hallway, and he couldn’t see anything. Maybe it was in one of the bedrooms? That was his best guess for now, although he still couldn’t be sure. He saw the kid looking at him from back in the kitchen, peering from behind the island. Eyes practically begging to know if it was safe to come out now. Well, he couldn’t be sure without clearing the house, but that wasn’t exactly a proposition that Levine was willing to entertain right now. Hell would freeze over before he did that. Oh, and Roxton would be right, but that was another story entirely.

He edged slightly over to the side again, getting closer to the doorway. Part of him didn’t want to get any closer, and the other part of him knew he was trapped here. This was the only way in or out, even if something unknown were indeed lurking there. He leaned over, sneaking a peek out into the hallway. Empty and clear, although he could see the door to one of the bedrooms open. The muddy footprints tracked to there, and he could already hear the sounds of something bumping into furniture. Well at least it was otherwise occupied, he thought to himself. Right now he had more important things to worry about, like getting a scared, and frightened grad student out of the house in one piece. Fact: he had no plan, and he realized this even as the wind started to pick up behind him.

It was a hell of a storm out there it sounded like, and he could hear the rustling of the trees as they blew in the wind. Levine didn’t notice it because he was busy gesturing with his other hand for the kid to get out from under the island. God, he seemed so slow, crawling on his hands and knees. Such a pain, since he was trying to keep his eyes focused on the hallway at the same time. The kid was almost at the door now, still moving at a snails pace. Levine was disracted enough to grab Baxter by the arm, in an effort to get him to pick up the pace. He didn’t notice the breeze that whistled over his ear, and wafted down the hall. Sending one particular power bar wrapper skittering into the bedroom of the door.

Instantly all the motion in the other bedroom stopped. The sniffing resumed again, and he heard something clatter to the ground. The animal turning around to investigate the source, he realized. Both Levine’s and Baxter’s heads craned again, transfixed as the animal slowly came into view. First the snout, then the head and then the whole body. No hesitation or nervousness at the presence of the two of them, it stepped out into the hallway, and finally Levine could see it for what it was. He was seeing it in the flesh for the first time in four years. In the flash of a second, the years seemed to strip away and he was on Sorna again. Only this time, no backup-nobody to even care where he had gone.

Velociraptor Mongoliensis “Sornaensis” the last being the name he’d privately given to the mutated INGEN version of the animal. Six feet tall, the raptor was as big as a grown man. The long shadows contrasted sharply with its yellow brown skin, dark brown stripes just like a tiger. It’s sickle claw clacked against the ground as it walked, and its eyes shone with a fierce intelligence. It growled at them, exposing rows of razor sharp teeth. It’s head low; it slowly slithered out of the other bedroom, stalking them. There were shreds of tattered flesh in its jaws, Levine couldn’t help but notice, meaning it had just eaten. But he remembered something else Grant had said. Those bastards kill for pleasure of killing.

He backed up, pushing the kid behind him. “As fast as you can, run.” He whispered out of the corner of his mouth. The man didn’t need telling twice, and nearly tripped up Levine in his hurry to run. Leaving Levine alone with the raptor. He tightened his grip on the pistol as it stepped forward, snarling viciously. There was no way of really telling how much of an effect the gun would have on the animal. Given its size Levine wasn’t sure if it would just piss it off to no end. Might have some value in distracting it momentarily, buying him some time. He tried to steady his arm, ready for the shot. Dang, he thought. Dang.

The raptor leaped forward, hoping to catch him off-guard. Levine’s finger slipped, firing a shot out of desperation. Lucky shot, it seemed to hit right on the body, not enough to penetrate. But enough to cut the leap forward, sending it bowling into the opposite wall. It gave off a horrible screech, and he could see faintly a small ribbon of blood where the bullet had hit. Not that Levine paid that much attention. He backed up faster, right up until he was sure that he was right out of the doorway. The raptor was starting to get up now, he needed to go now. He didn’t really care where, just somewhere safe and secure. He grabbed the outside doorknob, slamming the door shut.

Door wasn’t locked but opening the door would take at least half a minute. Just enough time for him to get away. Before he could even hear the first creak of the metal, Levine had already turned and started running. Even in the driving rain he could make out some semblance of newly disturbed mud just to the left of him. That might be a good path to follow, he thought. He quickly pulled the safety back on the gun even as he chambered it for another round. He just hoped that the kid had enough sense to go try to hide somewhere secure. Where in this village would be safe from that raptor? He tried to mentally check everything down… based on his limited time in the village.

The first place of course would be the bar, but that might be a bit too far. There were not enough bullets in the gun to distract the dinosaur that much. Plus, if any of the doors were locked, would be pretty Dang well screwed. The other houses would not serve as long-term solutions. He thought vaguely that his Hummer might provide a safe haven, but again it was too far. He thought maybe his only option would be to try to follow the kid, maybe stop him from getting himself killed. Going into the jungle was suicide, even in the day. The kid would get lost, easy prey for a predator who knew the jungle.

He risked a look back; saw the door just starting to open. Oh god… he just turned back, hearing the slipping and sliding as the raptor was chasing him. He imagined he could feel the hot breath of the animal right behind him, Dang how fast was it? He was running past a row of houses, following the trail as hard as he could. He could see where it all led, or seemed to lead. Up a moderate hill, slightly paved. He knew what that meant, some sort of private residence, probably better and more secure then the ones down here. It seemed his only chance, or at least the best one he was going to get about now. There was really no more time to think about his options.

Looking back behind him again, he realized that the raptor was almost on him. He brought his gun over his shoulder, and fired a shot haphazardly. It missed, but he still kept on running. By this time he was already somewhat up the hill, trying to make progress. The driving rain kept him from gaining a good foothold on it. It was a shame, but at least it would be slowed the same as he was. However, he had a feeling that the most direct route was most likely not on his mind. No, with those animals to assume anything would get you killed. But he did see disturbed mud up ahead, meaning the kid had indeed come through here, and just missed him by seconds most likely.

He could see the top of the ridge now; it seemed rather flat up there. Couldn’t really tell though. It distracted him enough that he slipped on the mud, causing him to fall flat on his face. Trying to get up, he heard a thump. But from the side… He saw a snarling mouth, sickle claw aimed high. Ready to disembowel him here in an anonymous Costa Rican village. The gun too far away…he felt his life pass before his eyes, at the ridiculousness of it all. He grit his teeth, feeling its hot breath close to him as the raptor snarled in triumph. He was going to die, despite all his careful planning; he was going to die.

The Raptor made another lunge, and Levine shut his eyes. Two seconds later, he clearly wasn’t dead, so he opened them again. The raptor was backing up; he could see something streaking down its side in the rain. Blood, it had been hit on the side…. Shrieking in pain, it snapped at nothing for a second. Levine wasn’t waiting however, and he turned over, grabbed the gun and ran in the direction the shot had come from. It might be enough to distract it for a few more moments, but he wasn’t gambling on it. People who took those kinds of chances usually ended up dead, in jail, or both. So he cleared the top, and made a beeline for shelter.

He could see it, right ahead of him. A large compound, he’d would’ve said belonged to one of those freaks who liked to hide out in the desert near Bakersfield. Anyway there was a fence around it. Perfect, he thought to himself. Barbed wire at the top, just the right sort of protection. There was another figure running too, just slightly ahead of him now. He guessed the kid must already be inside because this new man was of a different build. But all he could see in this damned rain was that he wore a hat, sort of like an old fashioned game warden. Screw that, he thought to himself as the renewed snarl was already right behind him.

He slid right in through the gate, the man waving him through. Great, but…He landed on his back, watching in horror as the raptor immediately started climbing the fence. Dang it was almost at the top now…he heard the gate close with a slam behind him. “What the hell good does that do?” He said, already standing up, backing towards the door to the compound. He had his hand on the door handle, just as the gate interlocked with the rest of the fencing. There was a brief shower of sparks and a hideous screeching noise from the raptor. It let go of the fence, and he could see the scald marks on its claws. So that was it…an electric fence…

The man turned to him, ignoring the raptor giving one last snarl before slipping into the forest. His shotgun was raised at him, a questioning glance in his eye. Levine knew he might have only one chance with this guy, so he raised his hands slowly, dropping his gun as he did so. “Marty sent me,” he said, though that wasn’t exactly the truth. He could see a little clearer now, because the entrance had a little overhang above it. The man’s face becoming visible and clearer. He thought he recognized him… He couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, but just going by what Malcom had told him it very well could be.
“I know about Nublar,” he said. “I’m a friend of Grant and Malcom.” Hopefully that would be enough…. He held his breath as the man stepped out of the rain, onto the porch.

“A ‘friend’ huh?” Robert Muldoon said as he shook his head. “Tell me… who are you exactly?”