Annes Story on Isla Sorna

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Anne's Story

Chapter 1, In the beginning...

I used to hate flying. How Marquez ever convinced me to go for a short flight I'll never understand. But there I was, heaving my lunch into the small cramped toilet on a small plane flying over a big ocean in a terrible hurricane. Ok, maybe it was a small squall, but the effect was the same on me. I was on vacation in Costa Rica and sick as a dog from the turbulence on this short flight. Being sick as a dog was the last thing I could remember before waking up on the beach. I thought "It was just a bad dream, what a relief!" I looked around. Nearby was the tail section of a plane, probably my plane. Floating in the surf was a large piece of wood. I entered the blue crystal-clear water to check it out. My neck and back hurt but the water was warm and felt good on my body. The piece of wood turned out to be part of an airplane restroom door, also probably from my plane. My dream had just turned into a nightmare. I didn't hate flying anymore, my feelings had gone way beyond hate. If Orville Wright wasn't already dead, he would have been when I got through with him...his brother too.

Upset and still dazed I tried to look around. Turning my head from side to side was painful and while looking up was no problem, I couldn't see below my breasts. (No, dear reader, they aren't that big.) I tried to move my left arm but it hung there limply ignoring my demands and pleas to move. Bending at the waist was impossible but my legs worked and I had no problem squatting down or jumping. My right arm seemed to be in good shape, but try as I might I couldn't make a rock skip on the water. Loss of dexterity is a sign of nerve damage and I knew I must have had some neck and back damage from the crash. I was getting worried but I was glad to be alive.

The storm was gone and it was morning, so it had to be the day after our flight. A search crew should have found me by now if they were ever going to. I thought about swimming back to America, but decided that maybe a one-armed woman wouldn't have much luck. Heading inland was my only hope. There had to be someone else on this island, hopefully with a phone, or maybe a radio.

Exploring the immediate area I found that I was unable to climb a few hills that would be no problem for a person with two arms. I was annoyed. I just knew that when I told my lawyer about this non-handicap accessible beach he was going to have a field day suing people. I followed the only path available to me in my current condition - I walked up the beach swishing through the plants, crunching the sand, and throwing rocks. I might have enjoyed this pleasant secluded beach if not for the way I arrived.

Just beyond the beach was a junkyard-like area with wooden crates, large concrete blocks, paint cans and other junk. At first my heart jumped, I had already found signs of civilization! Then it sank like as stone as I realized that the area appeared to have been deserted for years. I looked around for any clue as to where I was but found nothing except some strange octagonal barrels and broken lights. Who would make an octagonal barrel and why? The lights were like stage lights, but there were no power outlets for them. Worst of all there was no god-damn phone!

There didn't appear to be anything of use here and I even climbed (mostly by jumping) on top of one of the concrete blocks to get a better view. The view was great, if I wanted to see ocean which I didn't. Inland I couldn't see anything but hills and trees. If I had had some matches or a lighter I could have started a signal fire but I didn't, and there weren't any around. The only thing that looked even remotely like civilization was a dirt road heading inland. Since I couldn't swim that road was my best bet.

The road went up to a wooden fence with a gate. A gentle push sent the whole gate falling inward with a loud crash. The hinges had rusted completely away over the years - not a good sign. The road continued beyond the fence to another fence about 50 yards away and in the distance I thought I could make out a billboard. Both were good signs to me and I started hurrying towards them when I noticed the glint of metal on a crate nearby.

The crate was near some more junk, similar to the junkyard beyond the fence and I would have ignored it except for what I saw on the crate. There, sitting on the crate, were three pistols and a shotgun. I was ecstatic! I was a crack shot - my father was a gun nut and took me to the shooting range whenever he could. There aren't many guns I can't shoot, but I hadn't held one in years. After carefully checking the guns I took a few practice shots at some of the junk in the area. I was still a crack shot, and the flecks of rust here and there on the guns hadn't hurt them. If I was stuck on this island I could at least shoot something for food.

It was hard to believe anyone would just leave several fully loaded guns lying around and it occurred to me that this junkyard was set up like a shooting range. Where there's a shooting range there must be people. It then occurred to me that maybe these people who are around wouldn't be entirely happy to see me, or worse, they might be just a little too happy to see me. I grabbed a couple of pistols for protection. A one-armed lady needs all the protection she can carry. The shotgun and third pistol I hid nearby just in case I had to come back for them. I would have also taken them but just getting one pistol to stay put half-shoved into my shorts was difficult. Trying to put the other pistol there, and carry the shotgun by its strap would have been impossible. As it was these two pistols seemed a lot heavier than I remembered - I had probably lost some strength due to the crash. This convinced me that I had some serious injuries from that plane crash. I was going to have my lawyer sue Costa Rica Airlines back into the stone-age when I got out of here.

I followed the road to the second fence and pushed on the gate. It was rusted shut. I briefly considered using a couple of crates nearby to climb over the fence before coming to my senses. A shotgun blast to the gate opened it quite nicely with very little work on my part. Beyond the gate I could see the road continued. Off to one side of the road was a burned out truck, and to the other side, farther up the road was a sign. The sign was obscured by a tree and I was nearly underneath it before I could easily read it. It wasn't just any sign, nor was it a nice friendly sign like "McDonald's next exit", no it was this sign:

l1sign.jpg (31850 bytes)

Today was just getting better and better. First I crashed and nearly broke my neck, then I'm left on some godforsaken beach and now, NOW I was going to be dinosaur food. Life just isn't fair sometimes. I remembered the tales of Jurassic Park from the tabloids and Hammond's book about it. I thought it was all a hoax. Now I was on Site B, the place Hammond had declared was his breeding ground for the dinosaurs. No episode of the Twilight Zone would ever top this day. The world might be conspiring against me but no smart aleck spitters or sneaky raptors were going to be french-kissing this one-armed, two-pistoled lady!

The whole island suddenly took on a sinister hue. Hammond had said that the dinosaurs couldn't survive without a certain drug, I hoped he was right but I didn't have much choice. This island was probably deserted and my only chance of being rescued lied within. I had to hope that there was a working radio or phone somewhere on this island. The alternatives were not pleasant - I'm no Anne Crusoe and I really didn't want to be an appetizer for some dinosaur.

The burned out truck nearby was exactly that. If it once had a radio it was long gone. So much for getting lucky. It was almost noon so I headed inland faster, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. I had a choice to make - follow the road, or wander off into the forested hills. The choice was pretty easy, I took the road. It sloped upward and I was soon above the hills off to my left. I could see the remains of a truck that had apparently gone off the road. A rifle was lying in the bed of the truck but I knew I couldn't carry it if I wanted to be off this island before nightfall.

A pile of crates marked where the truck had probably gone off the road. The road appeared to have been eroded away by rains leaving a wide, deep ditch. That wouldn't have been much of a problem if I had two good arms but with one arm it was as bad as the Grand Canyon. I had seen a log earlier, but that would probably have been too heavy to drag over here and I was in a hurry.

The crates were empty and made a loud crashing sound as they fell into the ditch. One little push and Voila, instant bridge. I gingerly stepped across the crates, fearful that they might crack open under my weight. They were still quite sturdy, however, and I made it across without a problem.

Hurrying along the road I came to another ditch, even worse than the last one. Suddenly the ground shook beneath me. Too close to the edge of the road and unwilling to let go of my gun I fell down into the valley next to the road. I groaned as I slid to a painful stop. I had thought I couldn't feel any worse, I was wrong. I got angry then, I mean, just how many disasters should one person have to go through in a day. Now I had to deal with earthquakes.

I got up, spitting mad and cursing, stomping, yelling and just throwing an awful fit when a second earthquake hit. I was ready this time and managed to stay on my feet. I searched around to find the pistol I had dropped sliding down the valley wall. I found it lying next to some strange moss-covered tree trunk. An awful stench filled the air. It was like a few dozen elephants had just walked through town and left a mountain of droppings behind them. Only it was worse, much worse.

As I picked up the pistol the tree uprooted itself. Amazed, dumbfounded, and frightened out of my wits, I watched as it rose into the air, above my head. It came crashing down a few yards away. The ground shook and I fell to my knees. Not ten feet away from me was the biggest monster on the planet. Several minutes passed before I regained my senses. I stood up, unsteady on my feet, and watched the brachiosaur eat the leaves from a tree whose top I couldn't even see. Nearby was another brachiosaur.

The tales were all true. Hammond had done it, he had actually created dinosaurs.

Anne's Story Chapter 2, Meeting Smith and Wesson
Last updated Sunday, April 22, 2001 12:27 AM

[Freddie]

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Anne's Story

Chapter 1, In the beginning...

I used to hate flying. How Marquez ever convinced me to go for a short flight I'll never understand. But there I was, heaving my lunch into the small cramped toilet on a small plane flying over a big ocean in a terrible hurricane. Ok, maybe it was a small squall, but the effect was the same on me. I was on vacation in Costa Rica and sick as a dog from the turbulence on this short flight. Being sick as a dog was the last thing I could remember before waking up on the beach. I thought "It was just a bad dream, what a relief!" I looked around. Nearby was the tail section of a plane, probably my plane. Floating in the surf was a large piece of wood. I entered the blue crystal-clear water to check it out. My neck and back hurt but the water was warm and felt good on my body. The piece of wood turned out to be part of an airplane restroom door, also probably from my plane. My dream had just turned into a nightmare. I didn't hate flying anymore, my feelings had gone way beyond hate. If Orville Wright wasn't already dead, he would have been when I got through with him...his brother too.

Upset and still dazed I tried to look around. Turning my head from side to side was painful and while looking up was no problem, I couldn't see below my breasts. (No, dear reader, they aren't that big.) I tried to move my left arm but it hung there limply ignoring my demands and pleas to move. Bending at the waist was impossible but my legs worked and I had no problem squatting down or jumping. My right arm seemed to be in good shape, but try as I might I couldn't make a rock skip on the water. Loss of dexterity is a sign of nerve damage and I knew I must have had some neck and back damage from the crash. I was getting worried but I was glad to be alive.

The storm was gone and it was morning, so it had to be the day after our flight. A search crew should have found me by now if they were ever going to. I thought about swimming back to America, but decided that maybe a one-armed woman wouldn't have much luck. Heading inland was my only hope. There had to be someone else on this island, hopefully with a phone, or maybe a radio.

Exploring the immediate area I found that I was unable to climb a few hills that would be no problem for a person with two arms. I was annoyed. I just knew that when I told my lawyer about this non-handicap accessible beach he was going to have a field day suing people. I followed the only path available to me in my current condition - I walked up the beach swishing through the plants, crunching the sand, and throwing rocks. I might have enjoyed this pleasant secluded beach if not for the way I arrived.

Just beyond the beach was a junkyard-like area with wooden crates, large concrete blocks, paint cans and other junk. At first my heart jumped, I had already found signs of civilization! Then it sank like as stone as I realized that the area appeared to have been deserted for years. I looked around for any clue as to where I was but found nothing except some strange octagonal barrels and broken lights. Who would make an octagonal barrel and why? The lights were like stage lights, but there were no power outlets for them. Worst of all there was no god-damn phone!

There didn't appear to be anything of use here and I even climbed (mostly by jumping) on top of one of the concrete blocks to get a better view. The view was great, if I wanted to see ocean which I didn't. Inland I couldn't see anything but hills and trees. If I had had some matches or a lighter I could have started a signal fire but I didn't, and there weren't any around. The only thing that looked even remotely like civilization was a dirt road heading inland. Since I couldn't swim that road was my best bet.

The road went up to a wooden fence with a gate. A gentle push sent the whole gate falling inward with a loud crash. The hinges had rusted completely away over the years - not a good sign. The road continued beyond the fence to another fence about 50 yards away and in the distance I thought I could make out a billboard. Both were good signs to me and I started hurrying towards them when I noticed the glint of metal on a crate nearby.

The crate was near some more junk, similar to the junkyard beyond the fence and I would have ignored it except for what I saw on the crate. There, sitting on the crate, were three pistols and a shotgun. I was ecstatic! I was a crack shot - my father was a gun nut and took me to the shooting range whenever he could. There aren't many guns I can't shoot, but I hadn't held one in years. After carefully checking the guns I took a few practice shots at some of the junk in the area. I was still a crack shot, and the flecks of rust here and there on the guns hadn't hurt them. If I was stuck on this island I could at least shoot something for food.

It was hard to believe anyone would just leave several fully loaded guns lying around and it occurred to me that this junkyard was set up like a shooting range. Where there's a shooting range there must be people. It then occurred to me that maybe these people who are around wouldn't be entirely happy to see me, or worse, they might be just a little too happy to see me. I grabbed a couple of pistols for protection. A one-armed lady needs all the protection she can carry. The shotgun and third pistol I hid nearby just in case I had to come back for them. I would have also taken them but just getting one pistol to stay put half-shoved into my shorts was difficult. Trying to put the other pistol there, and carry the shotgun by its strap would have been impossible. As it was these two pistols seemed a lot heavier than I remembered - I had probably lost some strength due to the crash. This convinced me that I had some serious injuries from that plane crash. I was going to have my lawyer sue Costa Rica Airlines back into the stone-age when I got out of here.

I followed the road to the second fence and pushed on the gate. It was rusted shut. I briefly considered using a couple of crates nearby to climb over the fence before coming to my senses. A shotgun blast to the gate opened it quite nicely with very little work on my part. Beyond the gate I could see the road continued. Off to one side of the road was a burned out truck, and to the other side, farther up the road was a sign. The sign was obscured by a tree and I was nearly underneath it before I could easily read it. It wasn't just any sign, nor was it a nice friendly sign like "McDonald's next exit", no it was this sign:

l1sign.jpg (31850 bytes)

Today was just getting better and better. First I crashed and nearly broke my neck, then I'm left on some godforsaken beach and now, NOW I was going to be dinosaur food. Life just isn't fair sometimes. I remembered the tales of Jurassic Park from the tabloids and Hammond's book about it. I thought it was all a hoax. Now I was on Site B, the place Hammond had declared was his breeding ground for the dinosaurs. No episode of the Twilight Zone would ever top this day. The world might be conspiring against me but no smart aleck spitters or sneaky raptors were going to be french-kissing this one-armed, two-pistoled lady!

The whole island suddenly took on a sinister hue. Hammond had said that the dinosaurs couldn't survive without a certain drug, I hoped he was right but I didn't have much choice. This island was probably deserted and my only chance of being rescued lied within. I had to hope that there was a working radio or phone somewhere on this island. The alternatives were not pleasant - I'm no Anne Crusoe and I really didn't want to be an appetizer for some dinosaur.

The burned out truck nearby was exactly that. If it once had a radio it was long gone. So much for getting lucky. It was almost noon so I headed inland faster, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. I had a choice to make - follow the road, or wander off into the forested hills. The choice was pretty easy, I took the road. It sloped upward and I was soon above the hills off to my left. I could see the remains of a truck that had apparently gone off the road. A rifle was lying in the bed of the truck but I knew I couldn't carry it if I wanted to be off this island before nightfall.

A pile of crates marked where the truck had probably gone off the road. The road appeared to have been eroded away by rains leaving a wide, deep ditch. That wouldn't have been much of a problem if I had two good arms but with one arm it was as bad as the Grand Canyon. I had seen a log earlier, but that would probably have been too heavy to drag over here and I was in a hurry.

The crates were empty and made a loud crashing sound as they fell into the ditch. One little push and Voila, instant bridge. I gingerly stepped across the crates, fearful that they might crack open under my weight. They were still quite sturdy, however, and I made it across without a problem.

Hurrying along the road I came to another ditch, even worse than the last one. Suddenly the ground shook beneath me. Too close to the edge of the road and unwilling to let go of my gun I fell down into the valley next to the road. I groaned as I slid to a painful stop. I had thought I couldn't feel any worse, I was wrong. I got angry then, I mean, just how many disasters should one person have to go through in a day. Now I had to deal with earthquakes.

I got up, spitting mad and cursing, stomping, yelling and just throwing an awful fit when a second earthquake hit. I was ready this time and managed to stay on my feet. I searched around to find the pistol I had dropped sliding down the valley wall. I found it lying next to some strange moss-covered tree trunk. An awful stench filled the air. It was like a few dozen elephants had just walked through town and left a mountain of droppings behind them. Only it was worse, much worse.

As I picked up the pistol the tree uprooted itself. Amazed, dumbfounded, and frightened out of my wits, I watched as it rose into the air, above my head. It came crashing down a few yards away. The ground shook and I fell to my knees. Not ten feet away from me was the biggest monster on the planet. Several minutes passed before I regained my senses. I stood up, unsteady on my feet, and watched the brachiosaur eat the leaves from a tree whose top I couldn't even see. Nearby was another brachiosaur.

The tales were all true. Hammond had done it, he had actually created dinosaurs.

Anne's Story Chapter 2, Meeting Smith and Wesson
Last updated Sunday, April 22, 2001 12:27 AM

[Freddie]

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Anne's Story

Chapter 2, Meeting Smith and Wesson

Hammond was wrong though, the dinosaurs didn't need his drug. I knew the implications. If these dinosaurs were still alive, others probably were also. So, if I didn't get squished by one of these monsters I was almost certainly going to be eaten by one.

After my initial meeting with Hammond's dinosaurs I needed a bath. The ground was swampy around the brachiosaurs and I was muddy. I hoped it was mud anyway. Nearby a small pool of water had formed at the bottom of the steep hill. I took a sip. The cool clean water tasted good. I undressed and went in. I cleaned my clothes as best I could and laid them on the hot rocks nearby.

It was noon and I was skinny dipping in a pool of fresh water on dinosaur island. Nearby two brachiosaurs were munching contentedly on the leaves of some trees. The awful stench was still around, but I had washed most of it off my clothes and they were drying in the sun. I walked out of the pool and stood, drying in the sun myself. My neck and back pain had faded to a dull ache, but my left arm still wouldn't do what it was told. As I got dressed I looked around for a way to get back up to the road. Beyond the pool was a steep hill, probably too steep for me to climb but it was my best bet. Going back past the droppings of the brachiosaur and through the hills didn't sound like a wonderful idea.

After dressing I set out for the hill. It was steep, but by walking slowly it was possible to climb it. Reaching the top I noticed that the road had turned into gravel. Large wooden beams and planks lay half buried in the boulders and gravel filling this area. It looked like a wooden roadway had once been built above this gravel pit.

Off the road was another truck. Hammond must have hired really terrible drivers to have this many accidents. The truck was in no better shape than the others. On the ground in front of it was another gun, covered with sand and slightly rusting, but in good shape. It had a full clip but I was already carrying two heavy pistols so I tossed it in the bed of the truck. There was a weathered baseball bat already there. I had seen one earlier on the ground but no balls or gloves. What did they need baseball bats for?

I followed the remains of the wooden roadway until it ended at an earthen wall. With both arms it would have been a cinch to pull myself up and over the wall but with only one I didn't even try. The roadway had probably been smashed by a hurricane and all that was left was a 5 yard long section held up by a pair of study beams. As I looked over the broken roadway I accidentally knocked over a large beam which came crashing down on the roadway. The roadway slowly tilted downward towards me. It stopped when it crunched into the ground, almost at a 45 degree angle. As I stooped down to check the planks I suddenly heard another crunching sound. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as it took me a moment to realize that the sound hadn't come from the roadway.

A roar from behind spun me around. I started shooting, wildly, missing almost every shot. Something with yellow stripes, nasty razor sharp claws, and jaws full of long sharp teeth rushed at me. My eyes said lizard, my brain said tiger, and my hands didn't care either way they just pumped shot after shot into the thing. With a final lunge it jumped at me, jaws wide open, claws reaching out to rip me limb from limb. I fell backwards, to the ground, not seeing where my last bullet hit. My gun was empty. I kept pulling the trigger, hearing the gun making clicking noises, but not realizing what was wrong. It landed on the ground, hard, probably dead. A growl escaped its throat as I pulled the second gun from my waist. I didn't hear a single shot from the second revolver as I pumped every bullet in the thing's head. It stopped moving.

As I continued to click away on the second, now-empty, gun I noticed the manufacturer and just started laughing uncontrollably. I'm not much of a movie buff, but I couldn't help remembering Dirty Harry who, when asked by a thief "who's going to stop me", responded "Smith, Wesson, and me." My heart was racing as I backed up to the wall and looked around for other dinosaurs, pointing the gun and clicking in every direction. It gradually dawned on me that the gun was empty and I was defenseless. Fear gripped me as I dropped the Smith & Wesson handgun and ran back to the demolished truck for the Desert Eagle I had left there.

Looking back on it now, I was amazed that I didn't kill myself running back to the truck. I bounded over boulders in single leaps, ran through the sand and gravel like some crazed camel, and then jumped into the truck slamming into the cabin. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of me. Scrabbling for the Desert Eagle I caught it in a death grip as I lay there gasping for breath. My hands were slick with blood and I was covered in it. I couldn't tell whether it was mine or the tiger-lizard's. Minutes passed as I lay there trembling, wondering how many more of those things were out there. When my heart stopped pounding in my ears I listened intently for any movement, any sound that would indicate another dinosaur.

The wind blew gently through the trees, birds chirped all around, and in the distance I could hear & feel the brachiosaurs moving in their swamp. I was as safe as I could be, laying on my back and smelling of blood. I gripped the Eagle tighter as I jumped up and spun around, looking for something, anything to put a bullet in. The rocks didn't move, the ferns swayed in the light breeze, and I could see the carcass of the tiger lizard back at the tilted roadway. Nothing had come to feed yet, but I was taking no chances. I jumped from the truck and ran back to the pool. I didn't bother undressing this time, I just jumped right in.

The water turned red as I tried to wash the blood off. The tiger-lizard had given me a small cut on my calf, but the rest of the blood was from it. The brachiosaurs didn't like the smell of blood and moved away from me. I didn't much care for it either. I washed off what I could and then headed back to the truck I had seen at the first ravine. I knew it wasn't too far, but I went cautiously, watching out for anything hiding in the trees that covered the hills.

The truck looked unstable with its axles resting on a few large rocks. I grabbed the rifle and looked inside the cab for a radio. No radio, but I had expected that. Like the other guns, this rifle had some rust on it but was otherwise in good condition. It was fully loaded, which was a good thing, but it wouldn't be of any use if another one of those tiger-lizards got that close to me again. I slung it over my back and held the pistol as I went back. Along the way I avoided the pool, the brachiosaur droppings I had walked through would hopefully cover any blood smell still left on me. I headed up the steep hill, back to the roadway and the dead tiger-lizard.

I approached the corpse cautiously, making damn sure there was nothing nearby. It was dead. Its blood had cooled and soaked into the ground. If there had been predators nearby, they would have found it by now, so I was safe for a little while at least. I examined it intently, rolling it over on its belly to get a good look at the claws. I realized it was a raptor. Hammond had described raptors in his book and I remembered what he wrote:

Velociraptor - A small theropod native to China and Mongolia. Pack hunter, quite vicious, and quite intelligent.

When we were building Jurassic Park a two year old raptor escaped confinement. It killed two workmen and mauled a third before Muldoon tranquilized it. The third man died shortly thereafter. The computer system maintained constant surveillance of the island recording almost everything everywhere. Wu brought up the video files of the locations where the workmen were found to review what had happened. I turned off the screen after a few moments and left the room. Muldoon never saw the videos. I ordered Wu to erase them. I will never forget what I saw but I was convinced we could tame the raptors and put them on display.

I was mistaken.

This raptor was a lot bigger than me but still small. It probably wasn't fully grown. The idea that the dinosaurs might be breeding sent chills up my spine. A colony of raptors isn't something I could deal with, not with these pathetic weapons. Muldoon had the right idea - a fully automatic elephant rifle, or maybe a rocket launcher, yes, but a handgun and a rifle...never. I was lucky this time, next time I might not be. I needed to move faster, it was well past noon and I had no idea how far I still had to travel. If night fell I knew I had two chances of surviving through it - slim and none.

I tossed the rifle up onto the wall and then ran up the inclined roadway. Halfway to the top I jumped onto a small ledge running parallel to the roadway and even with the top of the wall. With the Eagle held out in front I cautiously moved over to the top of the wall and looked up at the road as it followed the hill. Nearby a small metal and cement cabinet was anchored into the ground. The door to the cabinet was gone, torn from its hinges. Inside lay another Desert Eagle. I grabbed the rifle and placed it on top of the cabinet, taking the second Eagle and stuffing it into my shorts.

I looked up the hill again, and then started up cautiously. I moved as quickly and as silently as I could. If anything bigger than a mouse moved within my sight it would have been dead. I kept well away from anything that could hide even a small raptor, trying to stay in the middle of the road. I wasn't going to be caught unprepared again, the next raptor would be facing a very angry and determined lady chanting "Smith, Wesson, and me!"

Chapter 1, In the beginning... Anne's Story Chapter 3, End of the Road
Last updated Sunday, April 22, 2001 12:27 AM

[Freddie]

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Anne's Story

Chapter 3, End of the Road

The view from where the road crested the hill was beautiful. In a valley between the hills was an open plain covered with flowers, birds were singing and chirping, and a light wind blowing out from the valley carried the fragrance of mountain meadow. As I paused for a moment to enjoy the view I was greeted by the cold reptilian roar of a raptor.

The raptor came out from behind a large boulder. I shrunk down behind a small boulder, trying to avoid being seen. The raptor roared again, closer this time. It must have seen me. I rose from behind the rock and took aim as the raptor ran towards me. My first shot missed, but caused the raptor to pause and turn it's head. It stood there glaring at me. I glared back. I hoped it would run, but as I steadied my aim it charged again. My second shot hit it in the chest, knocking it up and back. The third shot entered its neck and exited through the top of its head. The raptor stopped, dead in its tracks. It was another young raptor.

I felt extreme satisfaction knowing that raptor wouldn't breed, but my heart was beating fast - young or not, a raptors' roar can strike fear into anyone's heart. I was confident now, I knew a weakness. Two shots would be sufficient to kill a young raptor, maybe one if I could hit it in the head. The tables had turned, once hunted, now hunter.

I cautiously moved down the road, giving a wide berth to anything big enough for a raptor to hide behind. All the hiding places were empty of raptor, thankfully. The land was taking back the road quickly - grass, flowers, and a small tree now grew where the road had once been. The plain was half-enclosed by a high cement fence, and otherwise blocked by the steep hills on either side. There were only two exits - the road to the beach, and a large pair of wooden gates, held shut by a wooden beam bigger than me. In the center of the plain was a raised structure, looking for all the world like a train station. It gave the decaying cement monorail a reason for existing. The monorail was higher than the cement wall and must have once passed over it. Scattered around the plain were more crates, barrels, and other junk. A sign near the road announced "Welcome to Site B."

The road led to the gates and passed through, but I was a bit thicker than the inch or two gap between the gates and would never fit through it. I tried moving the beam, but it was too heavy for me. Even using a crowbar I had found nearby I couldn't budge it. I looked around, trying to figure out how to get past the gate. The gates wouldn't open, I couldn't climb them, and the packed dirt of the road was too hard to dig.

I looked up. I'm not afraid of heights, really, but the thought going through my mind was not pleasant. I looked toward the wall. The monorail ended before the wall, and a chunk was missing between two parts of the monorail.

I kept saying to myself "I'm not going to jump, I just need to go up and take a look." I went up to take a look.

On the platform was a bench and a rusting speaker box with a button. I pressed the button, and a stupid, useless, pre-recorded message spewed out. I looked around for a phone. There's always a phone at a train station. There wasn't a phone. Who would create a train station without a phone!? I know that DisneyWorld has phones at its monorail, even the tiny train-trolley at Lake Compounce in Connecticut - the longest running amusement park in the United States - has a phone nearby. Hammond didn't have a problem with industrial espionage, he had a problem with incompetent designers.

On the large InGen sign on the platform was tacked a small sign which said something about the monorail leading to the Town of Burroughs and a visitors center. Hammond may have had incompetent designers, but even he would have to have a phone at a visitors center! I could follow the monorail and be there before sunset.

I easily made the short jump onto the monorail and headed for the gate. When I reached the end of the first section of monorail, I looked down. It was a long way down. Falling was not an option. I backed up, got a good running start, and lept the short distance to the next monorail section. I was getting good at this jumping, even with only one good arm.

The perimeter wall was about a yard away from the monorail, and about the same distance below it. Unfortunately, the wall was only about a foot thick. I could see more monorail remains beyond the wall, and lots of grass and leaves on the ground. Excited about the prospect of a town on this godforsaken island, I figured I could jump to the wall and from there drop down safely to the ground.

I was mistaken.

Chapter 2, Meeting Smith and Wesson Anne's Story Chapter 4, Ouch [unfinished]
Last updated Sunday, April 22, 2001 12:27 AM

[Freddie]

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Anne's Story

Chapter 4, Ouch

As I jumped for the wall I realized I needed a free hand to hold on and balance myself when I landed. I dropped the gun I was holding - sure that I'd find another. I didn't think I could actually land on top of the wall but I surprised myself. My balance was off, however, and I jerked around like a marionette with a broken string. Time slowed as I twisted and contorted my body in a futile fight against gravity. I lost the fight and managed to slam belly first into the top of the wall, knocking my breath out. I held on for a few seconds before I lost my grip. As I fell to the ground on the other side of the wall I thought to myself "this is going to hurt." It did.

A lot.

I heard a dull thump, like a rock hitting the ground, on the other side of the wall. Then the sky turned black and the stars came out.

I awoke after a few minutes, at least I hoped it was only a few minutes. I hurt all over. I rested on the cool moist ground recovering from my fall. A few minutes passed before I felt well enough to stand again.

Standing at the gate I looked around. The area was hilly with a few bushes and trees scattered about. The road headed into the hills. The jungle was reclaiming the road which made it hard to follow. Portions of the monorail still stood and I knew that led to the town. Near the gate was another cement & metal cabinet like the one I had seen earlier. Inside was a Desert Eagle. As I picked it up my heart sank - I had lost the gun I had been carrying in my shorts.

I followed the monorail carefully, watching for any raptors, and was surprised to find another cement & metal cabinet with a gun inside. They must have put a ton of these gun cabinets all around the island for safety.

As I continued following the monorail, I found a large dinosaur with a very small head, a ridge of plates over its back, and a spiky tail. It wasn't aggressive like the raptors, but I was taking no chances. I made a wide circle around it, my gun pointed at it the entire time. It moved slowly, sniffed a few times in my direction, and then started eating the ferns. I hoped that meant it was a herbivore, and not just a sick carnivore.

Keeping an eye on Spiky until I was sure he wasn't coming after me, I walked sideways along the road. Movement up ahead caught my eye as a raptor rushed from behind a large boulder. It roared and charged. I roared back, "Die!" Two shots later it did. Spiky moved away a bit - I guess he didn't like the gun shots. Skirting around the boulder the raptor had hid behind, I carefully watched for others. No other raptors were in sight.

The road quickly disappeared and the unfinished monorail became my guide. I followed the remains of the monorail to a dead end. A stack of monorail sections, a few small crates, and a large crate stood in front of a six foot high dirt wall. The steep hills blocked any way around the wall. The small crates were on top of the stacked monorail sections too high for me to reach. As I looked around for something to knock them down with I noticed another gun buried in the dirt. "That would work" I thought to myself.

I took careful aim and managed to shoot down all three small crates with one shot. They were empty and light enough to move in front of the large crate. A quick hop, skip, and a jump and I was over the dirt wall.

The road continued beyond the wall, leading into a large open area with the scattered remains of civilization that is found at all construction sites. The usual stuff - crushed beer cans, construction material, a sledgehammer, stray raptors - you know, the usual stuff. I welcomed the raptor as best I could. He decided to roll over and play dead. I thought to myself "that was number four, how many raptors are left on this island?" The answer was unpleasant. I decided not to think about it.

The site had a small dilapidated wood shed with no door. There was, of course, no phone or radio. Inside was a shotgun. Useless damn weapon when you only have one good hand. Amongst the debris was another Desert Eagle, my favorite. It certainly wasn't the most powerful handgun but I was a dead shot with it and it held more ammunition than the Smith & Wesson I had picked up at the dirt wall.

Beyond the shed the road passed into more hills and as I followed it, the road simply disappeared entirely. I just stared. How could a road just stop? I looked around but the terrain seemed all wrong. Up ahead the remains of a road ran down a hill on my left, across my path, and then back up another hill. It didn't make a lot of sense. The hill to the left seemed higher and more open so I chose that direction. Once at the top of the hill I'd be able to see all around and might get some idea of how far I was from the town.

The hill was steep and I had a hard time finding a path up it. When I reached the top I suddenly understood what was wrong. The road and the ground it sat on had been twisted and folded. Farther ahead I could see that the road continued, squashed as it was between two hills. To the right were more hills and trees. To the left, the way I had been traveling up the hill, was a panoramic view of a valley leading all the way down to the shore. A beautiful view, but I didn't care.

Sitting in the center of the valley was a house. It was a large house with a stable. It didn't seem to be in very good shape, but there had to be a phone in there. I ran down the hill only vaguely away of the dinosaur bones nearby. It had been a big dinosaur, maybe even a Brachiosaur.

I quickly searched the stables and found a shotgun inside. Fully loaded, but not much use. As I turned around towards the door I heard a deafening roar. The roar made me jump and I accidentally fired the shotgun. I couldn't tell where the roar had come from so I squeezed into the outer corner and sat, aiming alternately out the stable door and up towards the inside stable wall.

I sat in the dimly lit stable, frightened for my life, and praying that this was just a very loud raptor. I remembered the bones outside, it would take a T-rex to bring down a brachiosaur. I hoped this wasn't him.

Chapter 3, End of the Road Anne's Story Chapter 5, Tea time
Last updated Sunday, April 22, 2001 12:27 AM

[Freddie]

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Anne's Story

Chapter 5, Tea Time

With the noise the T-Rex outside was making I was afraid he was going to smash the stables to splinters. The noise outside stopped, but the beating of my heart was terribly loud in my ears, I idly wondered if a T-Rex could hear heartbeats. I sat quietly, hoping it was going away.

Suddenly something appeared in front of the stable door. My heart raced as I emptied the shotgun into it. The creature roared. Six shotgun blasts from less than ten feet away would rock an elephant. When I looked again, there was nothing there. The roaring continued alongside the stable. I dropped the empty shotgun and drew my Eagle.

As the adrenalin rush faded I realized I had seen a raptor, bigger than the previous ones, but just a raptor. The shotgun's sights must have been badly off for me to miss with every shot. There was no blood to be seen beyond the door, so I must have missed. I was angry now. Not only had some stupid raptor nearly scared me to death, but I'd almost wet my shorts because of it.

I stood up and headed for the door. The roaring had stopped so I figured the raptor was probably stalking again, getting ready to jump out from behind something. The only thing he could jump out from behind is the stable itself. In front of the stable was a flat plain for about 50 feet, and then a hill. Nothing a raptor could hide behind. Nothing I could hide behind either.

Rushing out from the stables I spun around to check the side of the stable. The raptor wasn't there, so I ran behind the house. A roar let me know the chase was on. I ran for my life, too scared to turn around and check to see how close the raptor was. It seemed like miles to the end of the house. The raptor was closing, I could hear its claws crunching into the ground getting closer, running towards me. Suddenly I ran past the corner of the house. There were two buildings! I slammed into the corner of the second building and dodged into the alley between them. The raptor slammed into the wall beside me as one claw reached out and slashed my arm open.

The raptor roared as a slammed into a door knocking it partially open and slipping through. In the room beyond I spun around and aimed at the door. The raptor pounded against the door, knocking it completely open. It stood there, almost as if it was thinking that this was a trap. My first shot hit it full in the chest, knocking it's head and body back and up into the air. My second shot entered through its chin and exited through its skull. The raptor dropped with a thud. I wanted to keep shooting, but I only had six shots left. I couldn't afford to waste any ammunition, as it was I could only hope to kill three more raptors.

The gash on my arm hurt like hell but it was only a scrape. A strip of skin a few inches long had been scraped off. I'd probably have a scar if I lived through this hell. I rested there, alert, listening for more dinosaurs. I waited at least ten minutes before looking carefully beyond the door. The raptor stank, so did I. Tea time was over.

It took me more precious time to circle the house and convince myself that no other raptors were nearby. The second building was empty and the roof was gone. I hoped for a phone in the house itself, but it was almost as badly damaged as the second building. Most of the roof was gone, and large sections of the second floor walls were missing. Inside the house was just as bad and there was no phone or radio. A rusting rifle lay on the floor of an upper room. Between me and it was a large gap and a nasty fall to the ground floor.

I left the house, discouraged at not finding another weapon.

Two choices lay before me - head towards the sea and maybe find a boat, or follow the road near the house to the town. The town seemed a more likely prospect. As I followed the road I heard a distant roar. Not far ahead the road dipped into a valley, the roaring was coming from there. I moved up quickly, but cautiously - I wasn't interested in fighting, I just wanted to get to the town.

The little valley was really no more than a deep depression. A couple of raptors were attacking another dinosaur, one I hadn't seen before. Well, not living anyway. It reminded me of a rhino with three horns. I don't claim to be a dinosaur expert but a triceratops is probably the easiest dinosaur to recognize, at least until you meet a raptor up close and personal.

Blood spurted into the air as the raptors attacked from either side. I blinked and the fight was over. The two raptors lay dead or dying on the ground, bleeding profusely. The triceratops stomped on them, bellowing, and then moved away to chew some grass. I circled the triceratops giving it a wider berth than I had given Spiky before. Anything that can take out two raptors in the blink of an eye is worth respecting.

The hills moved in on the road again beyond the triceratops area. I smiled as I saw a small waterfall with a pool below it. In I went to clean my arm and my dirty clothes. The waterfall felt good but it was a little cold and I couldn't stay in the water for long. I left the pool and headed back to the road, I still had a long way to go.

The road traveled up a slight incline before the hills broke away to reveal an open plain. The plain ended at a dirt wall too high to climb, and the hills all around looked too steep to climb as well. On the plain was a broken, badly tilting section of monorail. Nearby were crates. None of this was important in the least because there, next to the road, was what I had been searching high and low for.

There, sheltered under a small roof, was a phone box! A phone, oh thank god I had finally found a phone. I ran for it, oblivious to the possibility that a raptor might be hiding behind the large crates. There was no handset, but there was a speaker grill and a keypad. I tried dialing the operator and the phone rang! I was ecstatic. It wouldn't be long before I was off this horrible island. A voice answered "The main switchboard is temporarily unattended, please contact your supervisor." I sat and cried.

Chapter 4, Ouch Anne's Story Chapter 6, Spying
Last updated Sunday, April 22, 2001 12:27 AM

[Freddie]

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Anne's Story

Chapter 6, Spying

Wiping the tears from my eyes I stood up and looked around. Trudging over to a large crate I grabbed a short 2x4 and viciously clubbed a smaller crate until it fell to the ground. I wasn't happy and I was going to make every nasty dinosaur just as unhappy as I was.

I jumped up on the crates and managed to get onto the teetering monorail. It was stable, thankfully, but difficult to walk up. This was like hiking in the woods behind my house with my brother, we used to pretend we were on a spy mission. Only there are way too many enemy agents in this game.

As I reached the end of the monorail I saw a raptor. It roared when it saw me and charged. It was difficult to aim on the monorail but six shots later the raptor was dead. Not far ahead I could see another raptor slinking through the rocks, heading my way. Below the monorail were a few crates and a gun cabinet. I jumped onto the crates and then down to the ground racing for the gun cabinet. The raptor raced for it as well. It didn't stand a chance.

A single shot rang out from the .45 Magnum as the raptor crumpled, flipping tail over head before coming to a stop. I stood up and looked around. A shotgun lay near the crates which I quickly snatched up. Difficult to use, but better than nothing.

I advanced down the narrowing valley moving slowing as I went, fearful of a sudden attack. Only a few minutes passed before I came to another dead end. I could see I needed to make some more steps to get past the wall blocking my way so I used the shotgun to shoot a small crate from the top of a larger one. As the crate fell so did a machine gun. I tossed the shotgun and picked up the machine gun. I smiled, feeling only a slight twinge of conscience while I daydreamed about slaughtering a few raptors with it.

Jumping up onto the crates and then above the dirt wall was easy. I was feeling good now though I was still a bit angry from the broken phone. My arm wasn't hurting and the cut from the raptor wasn't bothering me anymore either. A wide plain opened before me and another gun cabinet was nearby and held another machine gun. I left it and strolled across the plain. It was stupid. I was lucky, but it was still stupid. At this point the only thing I was worrying about were raptors. I had completely forgotten about the other meat eater Hammond had created.

The plain was broad, grassy, and beautiful. I noticed some pretty flowers and went for a closer look. They were orchids. I broke one off and stuck it in my hair. The plain stretched away in front of me until it suddenly dropped away.

I approached the edge cautiously not sure if there was a cliff there or perhaps some nasty surprise. The view from the top was impressive. The road ran down the steep hill under a boulder and beyond into a forested area. I could barely see the monorail in the distance. Another brachiosaur was browsing on some of the trees nearby so I felt safe as I ran down the hill.

Did you know that raptors don't eat brachiosaur? I didn't know that either. Hiding behind the boulder blocking the road was another raptor. I heard the pounding of its clawed feet on the hard ground and turned to face it as it roared. It had surprised me and I wasted two shots bringing it down. I drew my machine gun and listened for other raptors as I backed away from the boulder.

Not until the valley wall blocked my way did I stop moving away from the boulder and road. I didn't want to go back to the road, the raptors seemed to always congregate along it. Deciding then and there to stay off the roads as much as possible I moved into the bushes standing between me and the monorail in the distance. A roar ahead of me made me nearly jump out of my skin. I ran forward, sick of being the hunted.

The bushy ferns parted to reveal a wide open area with a crane, a stack of monorail tracks, and two very hungry raptors. The closest raptor was not more than 10 meters away. An empty machine gun later and it lay dead, scattered in pieces. I dropped the machine gun and drew the Magnum. The second raptor was barreling down on me but it wasn't expecting me to charge it. I ran towards it, screaming and firing, it stopped and then ran. I, yes I had scared a raptor. Heady from the hunt it took a few moments before I heard the clicking of my now empty Magnum. Triumph turned to fear. Looking around I couldn't see a gun cabinet, but I could see a mounted gun. I ran for it.

I was at the gun before the raptor realized I wasn't chasing, yelling or shooting at it anymore. It turned and roared. The gun creaked as I slowly turned it around to bear on raptor. It roared again and started running towards me. The mounted rifle was heavy and hard to aim. My first shot missed. At about 100 meters my second shot blew the raptor into the air.

Sweating from the excitement I was suddenly chilled to the bone by a low rumbling roar behind me. The rifle groaned as I spun it around again. Two other raptors were coming up from behind. Approaching cautiously but with the definite intent to turn me into lunch. I grinned. The rifle fired slowly, but the raptors were far too cautious. The first raptor flipped in the air as the bullet hit him. As the second turned tail to run, two shots hit him in the side and tumbled him into the grass. I could smell the blood in the air.

Blood attracts predators, and I was out of ammunition. The rifle still had some shots left, but it was far too heavy to take with me and I needed to get to the town. The monorail looked intact and the crane was a perfect way to get up on it. I would be safe there. Up I went, teetering on the crane and only barely keeping my balance. It was an easy jump to the monorail. I followed the monorail, jumping between sections where they had spread apart. An entire section had fallen and I was forced to jump down and climb back up the fallen section in order to continue. No guns were anywhere to be found.

Jumping from one monorail section to another I heard a roar from below. More raptors. This was getting annoying, and dangerous - I didn't have a gun right now. I ran along the sections, watching as several raptors appeared below following my progress. A metal rail stretching between two sections was a scary sight. If I lost my balance I would surely fallen to my death in the depression below. The only good thing was that the raptors didn't seem able to follow. As I crawled across the narrow rail the raptors roared their frustration. This made me smile until I realized their were more raptors below the next section of monorail.

I ran again, kicking and pushing crates over the edge of the monorail, trying to hurt a raptor. One heavy crate hit a raptor making a sick crunching sound. It didn't move again. One raptor remained below me while in the distance I saw a cliff wall that the monorail would pass over, but that the raptor certainly couldn't climb. I would be safe once I was beyond that.

Hammond had built these monorails to last and not once was I ever unsure about walking or running on them. I made a long jump, secure in the knowledge that I would succeed and that the raptor below would be cheated of his meal. Hammond's lousy engineers struck again - as I landed the section gave way beneath my feet and crashed to the ground. I rolled with the fall, bounced up and ran. The startled raptor took only a moment to roar and then give chase. That moment was all I needed to run up another fallen section of monorail, and onto a stable monorail. I was safe once again. The raptor followed below as I reached the cliff.

Looking down at the raptor I gave him a raspberry. I had reached the cliff and he had no way of getting to me. Unfortunately, the monorail ended at the cliff and the road continued far below in a valley on the other side of the cliff. It would be a long hard fall, but I could see a way down through the rocks. I went down knowing that this was a one way trip - there was no way I could get back up that hill. The raptor continued his growling until I was out of earshot.

Chapter 5, Ouch Anne's Story Chapter 7, Riding a Motorbike
Last updated Sunday, April 22, 2001 12:27 AM

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Chapter 7, Riding a motorbike

I was excited as I slid to a stop at the bottom of the ravine. On the ground nearby was a rifle, an army helmet, and a motorcycle! The bike was covered with dirt but I didn't care, I was determined to ride it to the town. Brushing off the dirt I lifted up the bike and sat on it. There was no ignition so I kicked the starter. My foot struck the ground, the starter was gone. I examined the bike closely and realized it didn't look right. There was no gas tank, the engine looked strange, and the battery was too big. It slowly dawned on me that this was an electric bike. It wasn't going anywhere. This was getting very depressing.

I dumped the bike, and grabbed the helmet. It fit, maybe it would help. Remembering that I had no weapons I grabbed the rifle and checked it out. Rifles, like shotguns, are not one handed weapons but it was better than nothing. The rifle was a bit rusty, but with plenty of ammunition, I wasn't so depressed anymore.

I was also stuck. The ravine I was in looked like some old dried riverbed and the walls were too steep to climb out. I'd be in big trouble if something decided to climb in. I couldn't go back, just forward into what appeared to be a thick jungle. I knew the plane was a stupid idea. This wasn't a fun holiday. I was thinking that my friends were probably all out drinking right now and I could just hear them saying "Anne? Anne who?" I stalked off into the jungle. I wanted to make a raptor very unhappy.

It wasn't far from where I entered the ravine when the first raptor appeared, stumbling down the side wall in his excitement to take a bite out of me. It had taken a good twenty minutes for me to get that far though. All bravado aside, I was scared. The ravine was really narrow and I had this nearly useless rifle. If a raptor got too close, I would have been dead. This raptor was dumb and got what it deserved. I scarcely glanced at its corpse as I strolled by.

I moved faster, it was dangerous, but I didn't want to be in this jungle any longer than I absolutely had to. The dried riverbed started closing in, but the walls were getting lower. It wouldn't be long before I'd be able to climb the walls. Around a bend a rusting jeep hung precariously over the edge of the ravine. Beyond the jeep a tree trunk had fallen into the riverbed making an excellent stair out of the ravine. Unfortunately, a raptor beyond the trunk had no intention of letting me escape so easily. It slunk closer, using the trunk for cover as I wasted bullets trying to kill it. We played a waiting game each of us trying to coax the other into the open. I was starting to get nervous. Hammond had written that raptors often attacked in packs, with one raptor distracting the prey while the others circled behind. I spun around, my heart beating fast, and fired a few shots at nothing but leaves and dirt.

Behind me came the unmistakable sounds of footsteps crunching the riverbed gravel. Turning back to face the cocky raptor, I created a wild spray of bullets. It screamed in pain and then gurgled as it coughed up its lifeblood. The rifle was almost empty. I trudged past the corpse to the tree trunk.

Climbing the trunk wasn't easy. It was mossy and I slid off several times before reaching the top of ravine wall. The jeep was like the others, rusted and useless, but on the ground nearby was a fully loaded revolver. Definitely better than the rifle in this jungle. Out of the riverbed the jungle opened up a bit and I could see I was in a valley with high, steep walls I couldn't climb. No raptor would be coming down the walls without making a lot of noise. I was relatively safe for now.

Hugging the valley wall while keeping the streambed in sight wasn't very difficult because the valley was only about 50 meters wide. I followed the wall for a short distance until I saw a pond up ahead. I grew up on nature shows and I wasn't going any closer to that watering hole than I absolutely had to. At least, that was my plan. Near the riverbed, however, was a shotgun. Not my idea of the perfect weapon, but better than the rifle I was still carrying. The shotgun was fully loaded so I took it and tossed the rifle.

I was very close to the edge of the waterbed ravine so I inspected it. The wall had gone up to about 8 feet at this point, high enough to protect me from any raptor on the riverbed. A small hill blocked my view of the pond so I walked to the top and looked down upon it. I quickly crouched at the sight of a raptor on the far side. He was standing absolutely still, no doubt waiting for some poor dinosaur to come for a drink. I dropped the shotgun and very quietly went back to get the rifle. Only two shots remained, but I figured I could kill the raptor if he didn't move. My first shot missed, kicking up the dirt near the raptor. It ignored both the shot and the sound from the rifle, remaining perfectly still. My second shot hit it in the shoulder. It wasn't dead, and it wasn't ignoring me any longer. It roared, sounding very pissed off, as it dove for cover behind a nearby boulder.

I grabbed the shotgun as I dropped the now empty rifle. The raptor ran around the boulder and headed straight for me. Standing at the top of the small hill before the pond, I just waited. As he reached the bottom of the hill, I pulled the trigger. The shotgun jerked in my grip and missed the raptor. Halfway up the hill my second shot hit the raptor in the chest. It didn't care - it was really angry. My third shot blew it off the hill and it's dead body landed in the water.

The water in the pond continued rippling as I went by, intent on getting away from the watering hole as soon as possible. I was forced back on to the riverbed as the valley walls narrowed in, but just beyond where the raptor had been hiding another tree trunk had fallen onto the riverbed. I climbed it back up to the relative safety of the riverbed walls.

The valley opened back up just beyond the watering hole, becoming even wider. The walls of the riverbed also dropped away, creating a wide flat area between the valley walls. I had lost my partial safety, but raptors still wouldn't be able to come down from the top of the valley walls. I could see what appeared to be crates farther up the riverbed and as I headed for them, I suddenly heard the angry roar of a raptor. The roar echoed around me and I ran, oblivious to the danger. The crates would give me a vantage point from which to find the raptor if I could reach them before the raptor reached me.

At the crates a truck came into view. Most of the crates were piled on to the truck. I would be safer in the bed of the truck than stuck on this flat land, I knew it, and the raptor knew it. The raptor appeared about 20 meters to my right, running hard to beat me to the truck. I was too close though and I jumped into the bed as the raptor slammed into the side. I dropped the shotgun in the bed of the truck when I landed, but I quickly grabbed the revolver and stood up. The raptor had stopped roaring and I couldn't tell where he was anymore. As I looked over the right side of the truck, a roar came from behind. I turned and fired, missing the raptor. It was skulking below the side of the truck, close to it, using it as a sort of shield.

Jumping on top of one of the crates, I was able to see the raptor more clearly and aim at him better. The truck was on an angle and the crate was moving slowly beneath me so my aim was off. It took only two bullets to kill him, but I also missed him with three others. the revolver was empty.

On top of a tall crate in the bed of the truck was a fully loaded Desert Eagle and in the bed of the truck, to my great delight and joy was a real gun - an M16 with a full clip. I was in heaven. This was the kind of gun to go dinosaur hunting with...if you didn't have a bazooka handy. I picked it up and slung it over my shoulder. I also grabbed the Eagle and left the shotgun.

From my perch on the top of the truck I could see from valley wall to valley wall back at least to the watering hole. There were no dinosaurs around, thankfully. The walls of the riverbed grew to height of about 4 meters ahead of me, but a tree trunk on one side gave me hope that I could stay at the top of the riverbed walls.

This tree trunk was just as difficult to climb as the others and the sight it presented filled me with dread. Down below, in the dried riverbed stood another raptor, sniffing around. That didn't bother me, it would only take two shots from the Eagle to kill it. What did bother me were the valley walls. They had opened up with little broken valleys and ledges that looked like easy travelling for a raptor. I was now forced to stay near the riverbed just to have some advance warning of a raptor coming down from the top of the valley.

I walked down the hill towards the riverbed. The raptor noticed me and charged. I was used to this by now, one shot up, one shot down. The raptor slid down the slight incline, leaving a trail of blood behind.

I walked by into the riverbed and followed its twists and turns until I heard the roars of two raptors beyond a bend in the road. I inched forward, quietly, trying to get a better look. I didn't think the raptors could know I was here, I had been very quiet and they were making a big enough ruckus to drown out any noise I might be making. The walls enclosing the right side of the riverbed had sloped down again so I could climb out, but I never got a chance.

As soon as I saw them I knew I was in trouble. I had finally met an adult raptor. It was bigger and had red stripes instead of the yellow ones that the juvenile wore. The two raptors headed for me. The fight or flight instinct took over as a sickening fear gripped my body. I emptied the Eagle, wounding both, but killing neither. I dropped the gun and ran back to the previous raptor. I had seen a machine gun and another Eagle near it. I reached the guns, grabbed the machine gun and, still running, went up the nearby hill. Turning around I could see that neither raptor had followed. I told myself I was the luckiest girl on the island. Not much consolation considering that I was the only girl on the island.

I followed the riverbed again, more cautiously, with the machine gun pointed towards where the raptors had been. As I reached them the adult had disappeared, probably hiding behind the thick ferns or a tree. The young raptor charged and I emptied the machine gun into it. It fell, riddled with holes, but I didn't stop firing until the gun was empty. The adult stood up, eyeing me like an eagle might eye a rabbit. We were alone now, just it and me. I ran. Hell, so would you. It's not like these things are little green lizards sunning themselves on a wall. At 12 feet long and 6 feet high with a mouth like Jaws you don't want to meet one of these things up close and personal.

I had a good head start and it apparently didn't want to follow me, so I reached the remaining Eagle without a problem. It was full, lucky me, and I headed back. I hoped that the adults were as stupid as most of their kids, but I wasn't taking any chances. As I approached the area, I kept looking in every direction, and listening intently. I had no intention of letting it sneak up on me.

The adult raptor was sniffing the dead one. I felt a pang of guilt for a brief moment. The pang only lasted long enough for me to hear the sickening crunch of the adult taking a bite out of the juvenile. That was the last time I felt any remorse when killing a raptor. It took me four shots to kill the adult. It started to run away after the first shot, so I had to hunt it down and finish it off.

The area that the two raptors were playing in was another wide open area between two narrow clefts in the valley walls. However, beyond this area the river had dug a deep bed through rock and the walls stretched nearly vertically up 6 meters on either side. The high walls promised some safety from anything coming down from above, but there was no place to run away if something was coming towards me. Claustrophobia set in as I followed the riverbed. It meandered through the rock, twisting and turning constantly.

About 20 or 30 meters along the path, the riverbed straightened and another adult was scratching around in the rocks. I aimed and waited for it. The raptor charged, utterly oblivious to the fact that it was already dead. One up, one down was all it took. The raptor skidded to a stop as a pool of blood formed around it. I walked quietly by.

The narrow riverbed continued through the valley, with the walls rising ever higher. At the top of one wall a rusted jeep sat precariously. At the bottom of the ravine, right at about the jeep, stood an adult, sniffing the air and looking at me. I smiled as I took a couple of shots at the jeep. With the second shot the jeep slid from its perch and fell. The raptor managed a feeble roar as the jeep crushed it. Nearby another Desert Eagle lay discarded among the rocks. I picked it up and cleaned it out. It was full. I left the now empty Eagle and proceeded on my way, carefully avoiding the sharp jagged edges of the rusting jeep.

The walls started getting lower as I went. I passed beneath a tree trunk that had fallen across the riverbed. I tried to climb on top of it to reach the walls but it proved impossible with only one arm. A discarded canteen lay on the ground. I idly wondered how long it had lain there, and why.

As I turned a corner I noticed that the riverbed walls were coming down quickly, and I could see open sky. The valley was opening up!

Chapter 6, Spying Anne's Story Chapter 8, Bad Breath
Last updated Sunday, April 22, 2001 12:27 AM

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Anne's Story

Chapter 1, In the beginning...

I used to hate flying. How Marquez ever convinced me to go for a short flight I'll never understand. But there I was, heaving my lunch into the small cramped toilet on a small plane flying over a big ocean in a terrible hurricane. Ok, maybe it was a small squall, but the effect was the same on me. I was on vacation in Costa Rica and sick as a dog from the turbulence on this short flight. Being sick as a dog was the last thing I could remember before waking up on the beach. I thought "It was just a bad dream, what a relief!" I looked around. Nearby was the tail section of a plane, probably my plane. Floating in the surf was a large piece of wood. I entered the blue crystal-clear water to check it out. My neck and back hurt but the water was warm and felt good on my body. The piece of wood turned out to be part of an airplane restroom door, also probably from my plane. My dream had just turned into a nightmare. I didn't hate flying anymore, my feelings had gone way beyond hate. If Orville Wright wasn't already dead, he would have been when I got through with him...his brother too.

Upset and still dazed I tried to look around. Turning my head from side to side was painful and while looking up was no problem, I couldn't see below my breasts. (No, dear reader, they aren't that big.) I tried to move my left arm but it hung there limply ignoring my demands and pleas to move. Bending at the waist was impossible but my legs worked and I had no problem squatting down or jumping. My right arm seemed to be in good shape, but try as I might I couldn't make a rock skip on the water. Loss of dexterity is a sign of nerve damage and I knew I must have had some neck and back damage from the crash. I was getting worried but I was glad to be alive.

The storm was gone and it was morning, so it had to be the day after our flight. A search crew should have found me by now if they were ever going to. I thought about swimming back to America, but decided that maybe a one-armed woman wouldn't have much luck. Heading inland was my only hope. There had to be someone else on this island, hopefully with a phone, or maybe a radio.

Exploring the immediate area I found that I was unable to climb a few hills that would be no problem for a person with two arms. I was annoyed. I just knew that when I told my lawyer about this non-handicap accessible beach he was going to have a field day suing people. I followed the only path available to me in my current condition - I walked up the beach swishing through the plants, crunching the sand, and throwing rocks. I might have enjoyed this pleasant secluded beach if not for the way I arrived.

Just beyond the beach was a junkyard-like area with wooden crates, large concrete blocks, paint cans and other junk. At first my heart jumped, I had already found signs of civilization! Then it sank like as stone as I realized that the area appeared to have been deserted for years. I looked around for any clue as to where I was but found nothing except some strange octagonal barrels and broken lights. Who would make an octagonal barrel and why? The lights were like stage lights, but there were no power outlets for them. Worst of all there was no god-damn phone!

There didn't appear to be anything of use here and I even climbed (mostly by jumping) on top of one of the concrete blocks to get a better view. The view was great, if I wanted to see ocean which I didn't. Inland I couldn't see anything but hills and trees. If I had had some matches or a lighter I could have started a signal fire but I didn't, and there weren't any around. The only thing that looked even remotely like civilization was a dirt road heading inland. Since I couldn't swim that road was my best bet.

The road went up to a wooden fence with a gate. A gentle push sent the whole gate falling inward with a loud crash. The hinges had rusted completely away over the years - not a good sign. The road continued beyond the fence to another fence about 50 yards away and in the distance I thought I could make out a billboard. Both were good signs to me and I started hurrying towards them when I noticed the glint of metal on a crate nearby.

The crate was near some more junk, similar to the junkyard beyond the fence and I would have ignored it except for what I saw on the crate. There, sitting on the crate, were three pistols and a shotgun. I was ecstatic! I was a crack shot - my father was a gun nut and took me to the shooting range whenever he could. There aren't many guns I can't shoot, but I hadn't held one in years. After carefully checking the guns I took a few practice shots at some of the junk in the area. I was still a crack shot, and the flecks of rust here and there on the guns hadn't hurt them. If I was stuck on this island I could at least shoot something for food.

It was hard to believe anyone would just leave several fully loaded guns lying around and it occurred to me that this junkyard was set up like a shooting range. Where there's a shooting range there must be people. It then occurred to me that maybe these people who are around wouldn't be entirely happy to see me, or worse, they might be just a little too happy to see me. I grabbed a couple of pistols for protection. A one-armed lady needs all the protection she can carry. The shotgun and third pistol I hid nearby just in case I had to come back for them. I would have also taken them but just getting one pistol to stay put half-shoved into my shorts was difficult. Trying to put the other pistol there, and carry the shotgun by its strap would have been impossible. As it was these two pistols seemed a lot heavier than I remembered - I had probably lost some strength due to the crash. This convinced me that I had some serious injuries from that plane crash. I was going to have my lawyer sue Costa Rica Airlines back into the stone-age when I got out of here.

I followed the road to the second fence and pushed on the gate. It was rusted shut. I briefly considered using a couple of crates nearby to climb over the fence before coming to my senses. A shotgun blast to the gate opened it quite nicely with very little work on my part. Beyond the gate I could see the road continued. Off to one side of the road was a burned out truck, and to the other side, farther up the road was a sign. The sign was obscured by a tree and I was nearly underneath it before I could easily read it. It wasn't just any sign, nor was it a nice friendly sign like "McDonald's next exit", no it was this sign:

l1sign.jpg (31850 bytes)

Today was just getting better and better. First I crashed and nearly broke my neck, then I'm left on some godforsaken beach and now, NOW I was going to be dinosaur food. Life just isn't fair sometimes. I remembered the tales of Jurassic Park from the tabloids and Hammond's book about it. I thought it was all a hoax. Now I was on Site B, the place Hammond had declared was his breeding ground for the dinosaurs. No episode of the Twilight Zone would ever top this day. The world might be conspiring against me but no smart aleck spitters or sneaky raptors were going to be french-kissing this one-armed, two-pistoled lady!

The whole island suddenly took on a sinister hue. Hammond had said that the dinosaurs couldn't survive without a certain drug, I hoped he was right but I didn't have much choice. This island was probably deserted and my only chance of being rescued lied within. I had to hope that there was a working radio or phone somewhere on this island. The alternatives were not pleasant - I'm no Anne Crusoe and I really didn't want to be an appetizer for some dinosaur.

The burned out truck nearby was exactly that. If it once had a radio it was long gone. So much for getting lucky. It was almost noon so I headed inland faster, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. I had a choice to make - follow the road, or wander off into the forested hills. The choice was pretty easy, I took the road. It sloped upward and I was soon above the hills off to my left. I could see the remains of a truck that had apparently gone off the road. A rifle was lying in the bed of the truck but I knew I couldn't carry it if I wanted to be off this island before nightfall.

A pile of crates marked where the truck had probably gone off the road. The road appeared to have been eroded away by rains leaving a wide, deep ditch. That wouldn't have been much of a problem if I had two good arms but with one arm it was as bad as the Grand Canyon. I had seen a log earlier, but that would probably have been too heavy to drag over here and I was in a hurry.

The crates were empty and made a loud crashing sound as they fell into the ditch. One little push and Voila, instant bridge. I gingerly stepped across the crates, fearful that they might crack open under my weight. They were still quite sturdy, however, and I made it across without a problem.

Hurrying along the road I came to another ditch, even worse than the last one. Suddenly the ground shook beneath me. Too close to the edge of the road and unwilling to let go of my gun I fell down into the valley next to the road. I groaned as I slid to a painful stop. I had thought I couldn't feel any worse, I was wrong. I got angry then, I mean, just how many disasters should one person have to go through in a day. Now I had to deal with earthquakes.

I got up, spitting mad and cursing, stomping, yelling and just throwing an awful fit when a second earthquake hit. I was ready this time and managed to stay on my feet. I searched around to find the pistol I had dropped sliding down the valley wall. I found it lying next to some strange moss-covered tree trunk. An awful stench filled the air. It was like a few dozen elephants had just walked through town and left a mountain of droppings behind them. Only it was worse, much worse.

As I picked up the pistol the tree uprooted itself. Amazed, dumbfounded, and frightened out of my wits, I watched as it rose into the air, above my head. It came crashing down a few yards away. The ground shook and I fell to my knees. Not ten feet away from me was the biggest monster on the planet. Several minutes passed before I regained my senses. I stood up, unsteady on my feet, and watched the brachiosaur eat the leaves from a tree whose top I couldn't even see. Nearby was another brachiosaur.

The tales were all true. Hammond had done it, he had actually created dinosaurs.

Anne's Story Chapter 2, Meeting Smith and Wesson
Last updated Sunday, April 22, 2001 12:27 AM



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Anne's Story

Chapter 2, Meeting Smith and Wesson

Hammond was wrong though, the dinosaurs didn't need his drug. I knew the implications. If these dinosaurs were still alive, others probably were also. So, if I didn't get squished by one of these monsters I was almost certainly going to be eaten by one.

After my initial meeting with Hammond's dinosaurs I needed a bath. The ground was swampy around the brachiosaurs and I was muddy. I hoped it was mud anyway. Nearby a small pool of water had formed at the bottom of the steep hill. I took a sip. The cool clean water tasted good. I undressed and went in. I cleaned my clothes as best I could and laid them on the hot rocks nearby.

It was noon and I was skinny dipping in a pool of fresh water on dinosaur island. Nearby two brachiosaurs were munching contentedly on the leaves of some trees. The awful stench was still around, but I had washed most of it off my clothes and they were drying in the sun. I walked out of the pool and stood, drying in the sun myself. My neck and back pain had faded to a dull ache, but my left arm still wouldn't do what it was told. As I got dressed I looked around for a way to get back up to the road. Beyond the pool was a steep hill, probably too steep for me to climb but it was my best bet. Going back past the droppings of the brachiosaur and through the hills didn't sound like a wonderful idea.

After dressing I set out for the hill. It was steep, but by walking slowly it was possible to climb it. Reaching the top I noticed that the road had turned into gravel. Large wooden beams and planks lay half buried in the boulders and gravel filling this area. It looked like a wooden roadway had once been built above this gravel pit.

Off the road was another truck. Hammond must have hired really terrible drivers to have this many accidents. The truck was in no better shape than the others. On the ground in front of it was another gun, covered with sand and slightly rusting, but in good shape. It had a full clip but I was already carrying two heavy pistols so I tossed it in the bed of the truck. There was a weathered baseball bat already there. I had seen one earlier on the ground but no balls or gloves. What did they need baseball bats for?

I followed the remains of the wooden roadway until it ended at an earthen wall. With both arms it would have been a cinch to pull myself up and over the wall but with only one I didn't even try. The roadway had probably been smashed by a hurricane and all that was left was a 5 yard long section held up by a pair of study beams. As I looked over the broken roadway I accidentally knocked over a large beam which came crashing down on the roadway. The roadway slowly tilted downward towards me. It stopped when it crunched into the ground, almost at a 45 degree angle. As I stooped down to check the planks I suddenly heard another crunching sound. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as it took me a moment to realize that the sound hadn't come from the roadway.

A roar from behind spun me around. I started shooting, wildly, missing almost every shot. Something with yellow stripes, nasty razor sharp claws, and jaws full of long sharp teeth rushed at me. My eyes said lizard, my brain said tiger, and my hands didn't care either way they just pumped shot after shot into the thing. With a final lunge it jumped at me, jaws wide open, claws reaching out to rip me limb from limb. I fell backwards, to the ground, not seeing where my last bullet hit. My gun was empty. I kept pulling the trigger, hearing the gun making clicking noises, but not realizing what was wrong. It landed on the ground, hard, probably dead. A growl escaped its throat as I pulled the second gun from my waist. I didn't hear a single shot from the second revolver as I pumped every bullet in the thing's head. It stopped moving.

As I continued to click away on the second, now-empty, gun I noticed the manufacturer and just started laughing uncontrollably. I'm not much of a movie buff, but I couldn't help remembering Dirty Harry who, when asked by a thief "who's going to stop me", responded "Smith, Wesson, and me." My heart was racing as I backed up to the wall and looked around for other dinosaurs, pointing the gun and clicking in every direction. It gradually dawned on me that the gun was empty and I was defenseless. Fear gripped me as I dropped the Smith & Wesson handgun and ran back to the demolished truck for the Desert Eagle I had left there.

Looking back on it now, I was amazed that I didn't kill myself running back to the truck. I bounded over boulders in single leaps, ran through the sand and gravel like some crazed camel, and then jumped into the truck slamming into the cabin. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of me. Scrabbling for the Desert Eagle I caught it in a death grip as I lay there gasping for breath. My hands were slick with blood and I was covered in it. I couldn't tell whether it was mine or the tiger-lizard's. Minutes passed as I lay there trembling, wondering how many more of those things were out there. When my heart stopped pounding in my ears I listened intently for any movement, any sound that would indicate another dinosaur.

The wind blew gently through the trees, birds chirped all around, and in the distance I could hear & feel the brachiosaurs moving in their swamp. I was as safe as I could be, laying on my back and smelling of blood. I gripped the Eagle tighter as I jumped up and spun around, looking for something, anything to put a bullet in. The rocks didn't move, the ferns swayed in the light breeze, and I could see the carcass of the tiger lizard back at the tilted roadway. Nothing had come to feed yet, but I was taking no chances. I jumped from the truck and ran back to the pool. I didn't bother undressing this time, I just jumped right in.

The water turned red as I tried to wash the blood off. The tiger-lizard had given me a small cut on my calf, but the rest of the blood was from it. The brachiosaurs didn't like the smell of blood and moved away from me. I didn't much care for it either. I washed off what I could and then headed back to the truck I had seen at the first ravine. I knew it wasn't too far, but I went cautiously, watching out for anything hiding in the trees that covered the hills.

The truck looked unstable with its axles resting on a few large rocks. I grabbed the rifle and looked inside the cab for a radio. No radio, but I had expected that. Like the other guns, this rifle had some rust on it but was otherwise in good condition. It was fully loaded, which was a good thing, but it wouldn't be of any use if another one of those tiger-lizards got that close to me again. I slung it over my back and held the pistol as I went back. Along the way I avoided the pool, the brachiosaur droppings I had walked through would hopefully cover any blood smell still left on me. I headed up the steep hill, back to the roadway and the dead tiger-lizard.

I approached the corpse cautiously, making damn sure there was nothing nearby. It was dead. Its blood had cooled and soaked into the ground. If there had been predators nearby, they would have found it by now, so I was safe for a little while at least. I examined it intently, rolling it over on its belly to get a good look at the claws. I realized it was a raptor. Hammond had described raptors in his book and I remembered what he wrote:

Velociraptor - A small theropod native to China and Mongolia. Pack hunter, quite vicious, and quite intelligent.

When we were building Jurassic Park a two year old raptor escaped confinement. It killed two workmen and mauled a third before Muldoon tranquilized it. The third man died shortly thereafter. The computer system maintained constant surveillance of the island recording almost everything everywhere. Wu brought up the video files of the locations where the workmen were found to review what had happened. I turned off the screen after a few moments and left the room. Muldoon never saw the videos. I ordered Wu to erase them. I will never forget what I saw but I was convinced we could tame the raptors and put them on display.

I was mistaken.

This raptor was a lot bigger than me but still small. It probably wasn't fully grown. The idea that the dinosaurs might be breeding sent chills up my spine. A colony of raptors isn't something I could deal with, not with these pathetic weapons. Muldoon had the right idea - a fully automatic elephant rifle, or maybe a rocket launcher, yes, but a handgun and a rifle...never. I was lucky this time, next time I might not be. I needed to move faster, it was well past noon and I had no idea how far I still had to travel. If night fell I knew I had two chances of surviving through it - slim and none.

I tossed the rifle up onto the wall and then ran up the inclined roadway. Halfway to the top I jumped onto a small ledge running parallel to the roadway and even with the top of the wall. With the Eagle held out in front I cautiously moved over to the top of the wall and looked up at the road as it followed the hill. Nearby a small metal and cement cabinet was anchored into the ground. The door to the cabinet was gone, torn from its hinges. Inside lay another Desert Eagle. I grabbed the rifle and placed it on top of the cabinet, taking the second Eagle and stuffing it into my shorts.

I looked up the hill again, and then started up cautiously. I moved as quickly and as silently as I could. If anything bigger than a mouse moved within my sight it would have been dead. I kept well away from anything that could hide even a small raptor, trying to stay in the middle of the road. I wasn't going to be caught unprepared again, the next raptor would be facing a very angry and determined lady chanting "Smith, Wesson, and me!"

Chapter 1, In the beginning... Anne's Story Chapter 3, End of the Road
Last updated Sunday, April 22, 2001 12:27 AM


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Anne's Story

Chapter 3, End of the Road

The view from where the road crested the hill was beautiful. In a valley between the hills was an open plain covered with flowers, birds were singing and chirping, and a light wind blowing out from the valley carried the fragrance of mountain meadow. As I paused for a moment to enjoy the view I was greeted by the cold reptilian roar of a raptor.

The raptor came out from behind a large boulder. I shrunk down behind a small boulder, trying to avoid being seen. The raptor roared again, closer this time. It must have seen me. I rose from behind the rock and took aim as the raptor ran towards me. My first shot missed, but caused the raptor to pause and turn it's head. It stood there glaring at me. I glared back. I hoped it would run, but as I steadied my aim it charged again. My second shot hit it in the chest, knocking it up and back. The third shot entered its neck and exited through the top of its head. The raptor stopped, dead in its tracks. It was another young raptor.

I felt extreme satisfaction knowing that raptor wouldn't breed, but my heart was beating fast - young or not, a raptors' roar can strike fear into anyone's heart. I was confident now, I knew a weakness. Two shots would be sufficient to kill a young raptor, maybe one if I could hit it in the head. The tables had turned, once hunted, now hunter.

I cautiously moved down the road, giving a wide berth to anything big enough for a raptor to hide behind. All the hiding places were empty of raptor, thankfully. The land was taking back the road quickly - grass, flowers, and a small tree now grew where the road had once been. The plain was half-enclosed by a high cement fence, and otherwise blocked by the steep hills on either side. There were only two exits - the road to the beach, and a large pair of wooden gates, held shut by a wooden beam bigger than me. In the center of the plain was a raised structure, looking for all the world like a train station. It gave the decaying cement monorail a reason for existing. The monorail was higher than the cement wall and must have once passed over it. Scattered around the plain were more crates, barrels, and other junk. A sign near the road announced "Welcome to Site B."

The road led to the gates and passed through, but I was a bit thicker than the inch or two gap between the gates and would never fit through it. I tried moving the beam, but it was too heavy for me. Even using a crowbar I had found nearby I couldn't budge it. I looked around, trying to figure out how to get past the gate. The gates wouldn't open, I couldn't climb them, and the packed dirt of the road was too hard to dig.

I looked up. I'm not afraid of heights, really, but the thought going through my mind was not pleasant. I looked toward the wall. The monorail ended before the wall, and a chunk was missing between two parts of the monorail.

I kept saying to myself "I'm not going to jump, I just need to go up and take a look." I went up to take a look.

On the platform was a bench and a rusting speaker box with a button. I pressed the button, and a stupid, useless, pre-recorded message spewed out. I looked around for a phone. There's always a phone at a train station. There wasn't a phone. Who would create a train station without a phone!? I know that DisneyWorld has phones at its monorail, even the tiny train-trolley at Lake Compounce in Connecticut - the longest running amusement park in the United States - has a phone nearby. Hammond didn't have a problem with industrial espionage, he had a problem with incompetent designers.

On the large InGen sign on the platform was tacked a small sign which said something about the monorail leading to the Town of Burroughs and a visitors center. Hammond may have had incompetent designers, but even he would have to have a phone at a visitors center! I could follow the monorail and be there before sunset.

I easily made the short jump onto the monorail and headed for the gate. When I reached the end of the first section of monorail, I looked down. It was a long way down. Falling was not an option. I backed up, got a good running start, and lept the short distance to the next monorail section. I was getting good at this jumping, even with only one good arm.

The perimeter wall was about a yard away from the monorail, and about the same distance below it. Unfortunately, the wall was only about a foot thick. I could see more monorail remains beyond the wall, and lots of grass and leaves on the ground. Excited about the prospect of a town on this godforsaken island, I figured I could jump to the wall and from there drop down safely to the ground.

I was mistaken.

Chapter 2, Meeting Smith and Wesson Anne's Story Chapter 4, Ouch [unfinished]
Last updated Sunday, April 22, 2001 12:27 AM


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Anne's Story

Chapter 4, Ouch

As I jumped for the wall I realized I needed a free hand to hold on and balance myself when I landed. I dropped the gun I was holding - sure that I'd find another. I didn't think I could actually land on top of the wall but I surprised myself. My balance was off, however, and I jerked around like a marionette with a broken string. Time slowed as I twisted and contorted my body in a futile fight against gravity. I lost the fight and managed to slam belly first into the top of the wall, knocking my breath out. I held on for a few seconds before I lost my grip. As I fell to the ground on the other side of the wall I thought to myself "this is going to hurt." It did.

A lot.

I heard a dull thump, like a rock hitting the ground, on the other side of the wall. Then the sky turned black and the stars came out.

I awoke after a few minutes, at least I hoped it was only a few minutes. I hurt all over. I rested on the cool moist ground recovering from my fall. A few minutes passed before I felt well enough to stand again.

Standing at the gate I looked around. The area was hilly with a few bushes and trees scattered about. The road headed into the hills. The jungle was reclaiming the road which made it hard to follow. Portions of the monorail still stood and I knew that led to the town. Near the gate was another cement & metal cabinet like the one I had seen earlier. Inside was a Desert Eagle. As I picked it up my heart sank - I had lost the gun I had been carrying in my shorts.

I followed the monorail carefully, watching for any raptors, and was surprised to find another cement & metal cabinet with a gun inside. They must have put a ton of these gun cabinets all around the island for safety.

As I continued following the monorail, I found a large dinosaur with a very small head, a ridge of plates over its back, and a spiky tail. It wasn't aggressive like the raptors, but I was taking no chances. I made a wide circle around it, my gun pointed at it the entire time. It moved slowly, sniffed a few times in my direction, and then started eating the ferns. I hoped that meant it was a herbivore, and not just a sick carnivore.

Keeping an eye on Spiky until I was sure he wasn't coming after me, I walked sideways along the road. Movement up ahead caught my eye as a raptor rushed from behind a large boulder. It roared and charged. I roared back, "Die!" Two shots later it did. Spiky moved away a bit - I guess he didn't like the gun shots. Skirting around the boulder the raptor had hid behind, I carefully watched for others. No other raptors were in sight.

The road quickly disappeared and the unfinished monorail became my guide. I followed the remains of the monorail to a dead end. A stack of monorail sections, a few small crates, and a large crate stood in front of a six foot high dirt wall. The steep hills blocked any way around the wall. The small crates were on top of the stacked monorail sections too high for me to reach. As I looked around for something to knock them down with I noticed another gun buried in the dirt. "That would work" I thought to myself.

I took careful aim and managed to shoot down all three small crates with one shot. They were empty and light enough to move in front of the large crate. A quick hop, skip, and a jump and I was over the dirt wall.

The road continued beyond the wall, leading into a large open area with the scattered remains of civilization that is found at all construction sites. The usual stuff - crushed beer cans, construction material, a sledgehammer, stray raptors - you know, the usual stuff. I welcomed the raptor as best I could. He decided to roll over and play dead. I thought to myself "that was number four, how many raptors are left on this island?" The answer was unpleasant. I decided not to think about it.

The site had a small dilapidated wood shed with no door. There was, of course, no phone or radio. Inside was a shotgun. Useless damn weapon when you only have one good hand. Amongst the debris was another Desert Eagle, my favorite. It certainly wasn't the most powerful handgun but I was a dead shot with it and it held more ammunition than the Smith & Wesson I had picked up at the dirt wall.

Beyond the shed the road passed into more hills and as I followed it, the road simply disappeared entirely. I just stared. How could a road just stop? I looked around but the terrain seemed all wrong. Up ahead the remains of a road ran down a hill on my left, across my path, and then back up another hill. It didn't make a lot of sense. The hill to the left seemed higher and more open so I chose that direction. Once at the top of the hill I'd be able to see all around and might get some idea of how far I was from the town.

The hill was steep and I had a hard time finding a path up it. When I reached the top I suddenly understood what was wrong. The road and the ground it sat on had been twisted and folded. Farther ahead I could see that the road continued, squashed as it was between two hills. To the right were more hills and trees. To the left, the way I had been traveling up the hill, was a panoramic view of a valley leading all the way down to the shore. A beautiful view, but I didn't care.

Sitting in the center of the valley was a house. It was a large house with a stable. It didn't seem to be in very good shape, but there had to be a phone in there. I ran down the hill only vaguely away of the dinosaur bones nearby. It had been a big dinosaur, maybe even a Brachiosaur.

I quickly searched the stables and found a shotgun inside. Fully loaded, but not much use. As I turned around towards the door I heard a deafening roar. The roar made me jump and I accidentally fired the shotgun. I couldn't tell where the roar had come from so I squeezed into the outer corner and sat, aiming alternately out the stable door and up towards the inside stable wall.

I sat in the dimly lit stable, frightened for my life, and praying that this was just a very loud raptor. I remembered the bones outside, it would take a T-rex to bring down a brachiosaur. I hoped this wasn't him.

Chapter 3, End of the Road Anne's Story Chapter 5, Tea time
Last updated Sunday, April 22, 2001 12:27 AM


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Chapter 5, Tea Time

With the noise the T-Rex outside was making I was afraid he was going to smash the stables to splinters. The noise outside stopped, but the beating of my heart was terribly loud in my ears, I idly wondered if a T-Rex could hear heartbeats. I sat quietly, hoping it was going away.

Suddenly something appeared in front of the stable door. My heart raced as I emptied the shotgun into it. The creature roared. Six shotgun blasts from less than ten feet away would rock an elephant. When I looked again, there was nothing there. The roaring continued alongside the stable. I dropped the empty shotgun and drew my Eagle.

As the adrenalin rush faded I realized I had seen a raptor, bigger than the previous ones, but just a raptor. The shotgun's sights must have been badly off for me to miss with every shot. There was no blood to be seen beyond the door, so I must have missed. I was angry now. Not only had some stupid raptor nearly scared me to death, but I'd almost wet my shorts because of it.

I stood up and headed for the door. The roaring had stopped so I figured the raptor was probably stalking again, getting ready to jump out from behind something. The only thing he could jump out from behind is the stable itself. In front of the stable was a flat plain for about 50 feet, and then a hill. Nothing a raptor could hide behind. Nothing I could hide behind either.

Rushing out from the stables I spun around to check the side of the stable. The raptor wasn't there, so I ran behind the house. A roar let me know the chase was on. I ran for my life, too scared to turn around and check to see how close the raptor was. It seemed like miles to the end of the house. The raptor was closing, I could hear its claws crunching into the ground getting closer, running towards me. Suddenly I ran past the corner of the house. There were two buildings! I slammed into the corner of the second building and dodged into the alley between them. The raptor slammed into the wall beside me as one claw reached out and slashed my arm open.

The raptor roared as a slammed into a door knocking it partially open and slipping through. In the room beyond I spun around and aimed at the door. The raptor pounded against the door, knocking it completely open. It stood there, almost as if it was thinking that this was a trap. My first shot hit it full in the chest, knocking it's head and body back and up into the air. My second shot entered through its chin and exited through its skull. The raptor dropped with a thud. I wanted to keep shooting, but I only had six shots left. I couldn't afford to waste any ammunition, as it was I could only hope to kill three more raptors.

The gash on my arm hurt like hell but it was only a scrape. A strip of skin a few inches long had been scraped off. I'd probably have a scar if I lived through this hell. I rested there, alert, listening for more dinosaurs. I waited at least ten minutes before looking carefully beyond the door. The raptor stank, so did I. Tea time was over.

It took me more precious time to circle the house and convince myself that no other raptors were nearby. The second building was empty and the roof was gone. I hoped for a phone in the house itself, but it was almost as badly damaged as the second building. Most of the roof was gone, and large sections of the second floor walls were missing. Inside the house was just as bad and there was no phone or radio. A rusting rifle lay on the floor of an upper room. Between me and it was a large gap and a nasty fall to the ground floor.

I left the house, discouraged at not finding another weapon.

Two choices lay before me - head towards the sea and maybe find a boat, or follow the road near the house to the town. The town seemed a more likely prospect. As I followed the road I heard a distant roar. Not far ahead the road dipped into a valley, the roaring was coming from there. I moved up quickly, but cautiously - I wasn't interested in fighting, I just wanted to get to the town.

The little valley was really no more than a deep depression. A couple of raptors were attacking another dinosaur, one I hadn't seen before. Well, not living anyway. It reminded me of a rhino with three horns. I don't claim to be a dinosaur expert but a triceratops is probably the easiest dinosaur to recognize, at least until you meet a raptor up close and personal.

Blood spurted into the air as the raptors attacked from either side. I blinked and the fight was over. The two raptors lay dead or dying on the ground, bleeding profusely. The triceratops stomped on them, bellowing, and then moved away to chew some grass. I circled the triceratops giving it a wider berth than I had given Spiky before. Anything that can take out two raptors in the blink of an eye is worth respecting.

The hills moved in on the road again beyond the triceratops area. I smiled as I saw a small waterfall with a pool below it. In I went to clean my arm and my dirty clothes. The waterfall felt good but it was a little cold and I couldn't stay in the water for long. I left the pool and headed back to the road, I still had a long way to go.

The road traveled up a slight incline before the hills broke away to reveal an open plain. The plain ended at a dirt wall too high to climb, and the hills all around looked too steep to climb as well. On the plain was a broken, badly tilting section of monorail. Nearby were crates. None of this was important in the least because there, next to the road, was what I had been searching high and low for.

There, sheltered under a small roof, was a phone box! A phone, oh thank god I had finally found a phone. I ran for it, oblivious to the possibility that a raptor might be hiding behind the large crates. There was no handset, but there was a speaker grill and a keypad. I tried dialing the operator and the phone rang! I was ecstatic. It wouldn't be long before I was off this horrible island. A voice answered "The main switchboard is temporarily unattended, please contact your supervisor." I sat and cried.

Chapter 4, Ouch Anne's Story Chapter 6, Spying
Last updated Sunday, April 22, 2001 12:27 AM


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Chapter 6, Spying

Wiping the tears from my eyes I stood up and looked around. Trudging over to a large crate I grabbed a short 2x4 and viciously clubbed a smaller crate until it fell to the ground. I wasn't happy and I was going to make every nasty dinosaur just as unhappy as I was.

I jumped up on the crates and managed to get onto the teetering monorail. It was stable, thankfully, but difficult to walk up. This was like hiking in the woods behind my house with my brother, we used to pretend we were on a spy mission. Only there are way too many enemy agents in this game.

As I reached the end of the monorail I saw a raptor. It roared when it saw me and charged. It was difficult to aim on the monorail but six shots later the raptor was dead. Not far ahead I could see another raptor slinking through the rocks, heading my way. Below the monorail were a few crates and a gun cabinet. I jumped onto the crates and then down to the ground racing for the gun cabinet. The raptor raced for it as well. It didn't stand a chance.

A single shot rang out from the .45 Magnum as the raptor crumpled, flipping tail over head before coming to a stop. I stood up and looked around. A shotgun lay near the crates which I quickly snatched up. Difficult to use, but better than nothing.

I advanced down the narrowing valley moving slowing as I went, fearful of a sudden attack. Only a few minutes passed before I came to another dead end. I could see I needed to make some more steps to get past the wall blocking my way so I used the shotgun to shoot a small crate from the top of a larger one. As the crate fell so did a machine gun. I tossed the shotgun and picked up the machine gun. I smiled, feeling only a slight twinge of conscience while I daydreamed about slaughtering a few raptors with it.

Jumping up onto the crates and then above the dirt wall was easy. I was feeling good now though I was still a bit angry from the broken phone. My arm wasn't hurting and the cut from the raptor wasn't bothering me anymore either. A wide plain opened before me and another gun cabinet was nearby and held another machine gun. I left it and strolled across the plain. It was stupid. I was lucky, but it was still stupid. At this point the only thing I was worrying about were raptors. I had completely forgotten about the other meat eater Hammond had created.

The plain was broad, grassy, and beautiful. I noticed some pretty flowers and went for a closer look. They were orchids. I broke one off and stuck it in my hair. The plain stretched away in front of me until it suddenly dropped away.

I approached the edge cautiously not sure if there was a cliff there or perhaps some nasty surprise. The view from the top was impressive. The road ran down the steep hill under a boulder and beyond into a forested area. I could barely see the monorail in the distance. Another brachiosaur was browsing on some of the trees nearby so I felt safe as I ran down the hill.

Did you know that raptors don't eat brachiosaur? I didn't know that either. Hiding behind the boulder blocking the road was another raptor. I heard the pounding of its clawed feet on the hard ground and turned to face it as it roared. It had surprised me and I wasted two shots bringing it down. I drew my machine gun and listened for other raptors as I backed away from the boulder.

Not until the valley wall blocked my way did I stop moving away from the boulder and road. I didn't want to go back to the road, the raptors seemed to always congregate along it. Deciding then and there to stay off the roads as much as possible I moved into the bushes standing between me and the monorail in the distance. A roar ahead of me made me nearly jump out of my skin. I ran forward, sick of being the hunted.

The bushy ferns parted to reveal a wide open area with a crane, a stack of monorail tracks, and two very hungry raptors. The closest raptor was not more than 10 meters away. An empty machine gun later and it lay dead, scattered in pieces. I dropped the machine gun and drew the Magnum. The second raptor was barreling down on me but it wasn't expecting me to charge it. I ran towards it, screaming and firing, it stopped and then ran. I, yes I had scared a raptor. Heady from the hunt it took a few moments before I heard the clicking of my now empty Magnum. Triumph turned to fear. Looking around I couldn't see a gun cabinet, but I could see a mounted gun. I ran for it.

I was at the gun before the raptor realized I wasn't chasing, yelling or shooting at it anymore. It turned and roared. The gun creaked as I slowly turned it around to bear on raptor. It roared again and started running towards me. The mounted rifle was heavy and hard to aim. My first shot missed. At about 100 meters my second shot blew the raptor into the air.

Sweating from the excitement I was suddenly chilled to the bone by a low rumbling roar behind me. The rifle groaned as I spun it around again. Two other raptors were coming up from behind. Approaching cautiously but with the definite intent to turn me into lunch. I grinned. The rifle fired slowly, but the raptors were far too cautious. The first raptor flipped in the air as the bullet hit him. As the second turned tail to run, two shots hit him in the side and tumbled him into the grass. I could smell the blood in the air.

Blood attracts predators, and I was out of ammunition. The rifle still had some shots left, but it was far too heavy to take with me and I needed to get to the town. The monorail looked intact and the crane was a perfect way to get up on it. I would be safe there. Up I went, teetering on the crane and only barely keeping my balance. It was an easy jump to the monorail. I followed the monorail, jumping between sections where they had spread apart. An entire section had fallen and I was forced to jump down and climb back up the fallen section in order to continue. No guns were anywhere to be found.

Jumping from one monorail section to another I heard a roar from below. More raptors. This was getting annoying, and dangerous - I didn't have a gun right now. I ran along the sections, watching as several raptors appeared below following my progress. A metal rail stretching between two sections was a scary sight. If I lost my balance I would surely fallen to my death in the depression below. The only good thing was that the raptors didn't seem able to follow. As I crawled across the narrow rail the raptors roared their frustration. This made me smile until I realized their were more raptors below the next section of monorail.

I ran again, kicking and pushing crates over the edge of the monorail, trying to hurt a raptor. One heavy crate hit a raptor making a sick crunching sound. It didn't move again. One raptor remained below me while in the distance I saw a cliff wall that the monorail would pass over, but that the raptor certainly couldn't climb. I would be safe once I was beyond that.

Hammond had built these monorails to last and not once was I ever unsure about walking or running on them. I made a long jump, secure in the knowledge that I would succeed and that the raptor below would be cheated of his meal. Hammond's lousy engineers struck again - as I landed the section gave way beneath my feet and crashed to the ground. I rolled with the fall, bounced up and ran. The startled raptor took only a moment to roar and then give chase. That moment was all I needed to run up another fallen section of monorail, and onto a stable monorail. I was safe once again. The raptor followed below as I reached the cliff.

Looking down at the raptor I gave him a raspberry. I had reached the cliff and he had no way of getting to me. Unfortunately, the monorail ended at the cliff and the road continued far below in a valley on the other side of the cliff. It would be a long hard fall, but I could see a way down through the rocks. I went down knowing that this was a one way trip - there was no way I could get back up that hill. The raptor continued his growling until I was out of earshot.

Chapter 5, Ouch Anne's Story Chapter 7, Riding a Motorbike
Last updated Sunday, April 22, 2001 12:27 AM



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Chapter 7, Riding a motorbike

I was excited as I slid to a stop at the bottom of the ravine. On the ground nearby was a rifle, an army helmet, and a motorcycle! The bike was covered with dirt but I didn't care, I was determined to ride it to the town. Brushing off the dirt I lifted up the bike and sat on it. There was no ignition so I kicked the starter. My foot struck the ground, the starter was gone. I examined the bike closely and realized it didn't look right. There was no gas tank, the engine looked strange, and the battery was too big. It slowly dawned on me that this was an electric bike. It wasn't going anywhere. This was getting very depressing.

I dumped the bike, and grabbed the helmet. It fit, maybe it would help. Remembering that I had no weapons I grabbed the rifle and checked it out. Rifles, like shotguns, are not one handed weapons but it was better than nothing. The rifle was a bit rusty, but with plenty of ammunition, I wasn't so depressed anymore.

I was also stuck. The ravine I was in looked like some old dried riverbed and the walls were too steep to climb out. I'd be in big trouble if something decided to climb in. I couldn't go back, just forward into what appeared to be a thick jungle. I knew the plane was a stupid idea. This wasn't a fun holiday. I was thinking that my friends were probably all out drinking right now and I could just hear them saying "Anne? Anne who?" I stalked off into the jungle. I wanted to make a raptor very unhappy.

It wasn't far from where I entered the ravine when the first raptor appeared, stumbling down the side wall in his excitement to take a bite out of me. It had taken a good twenty minutes for me to get that far though. All bravado aside, I was scared. The ravine was really narrow and I had this nearly useless rifle. If a raptor got too close, I would have been dead. This raptor was dumb and got what it deserved. I scarcely glanced at its corpse as I strolled by.

I moved faster, it was dangerous, but I didn't want to be in this jungle any longer than I absolutely had to. The dried riverbed started closing in, but the walls were getting lower. It wouldn't be long before I'd be able to climb the walls. Around a bend a rusting jeep hung precariously over the edge of the ravine. Beyond the jeep a tree trunk had fallen into the riverbed making an excellent stair out of the ravine. Unfortunately, a raptor beyond the trunk had no intention of letting me escape so easily. It slunk closer, using the trunk for cover as I wasted bullets trying to kill it. We played a waiting game each of us trying to coax the other into the open. I was starting to get nervous. Hammond had written that raptors often attacked in packs, with one raptor distracting the prey while the others circled behind. I spun around, my heart beating fast, and fired a few shots at nothing but leaves and dirt.

Behind me came the unmistakable sounds of footsteps crunching the riverbed gravel. Turning back to face the cocky raptor, I created a wild spray of bullets. It screamed in pain and then gurgled as it coughed up its lifeblood. The rifle was almost empty. I trudged past the corpse to the tree trunk.

Climbing the trunk wasn't easy. It was mossy and I slid off several times before reaching the top of ravine wall. The jeep was like the others, rusted and useless, but on the ground nearby was a fully loaded revolver. Definitely better than the rifle in this jungle. Out of the riverbed the jungle opened up a bit and I could see I was in a valley with high, steep walls I couldn't climb. No raptor would be coming down the walls without making a lot of noise. I was relatively safe for now.

Hugging the valley wall while keeping the streambed in sight wasn't very difficult because the valley was only about 50 meters wide. I followed the wall for a short distance until I saw a pond up ahead. I grew up on nature shows and I wasn't going any closer to that watering hole than I absolutely had to. At least, that was my plan. Near the riverbed, however, was a shotgun. Not my idea of the perfect weapon, but better than the rifle I was still carrying. The shotgun was fully loaded so I took it and tossed the rifle.

I was very close to the edge of the waterbed ravine so I inspected it. The wall had gone up to about 8 feet at this point, high enough to protect me from any raptor on the riverbed. A small hill blocked my view of the pond so I walked to the top and looked down upon it. I quickly crouched at the sight of a raptor on the far side. He was standing absolutely still, no doubt waiting for some poor dinosaur to come for a drink. I dropped the shotgun and very quietly went back to get the rifle. Only two shots remained, but I figured I could kill the raptor if he didn't move. My first shot missed, kicking up the dirt near the raptor. It ignored both the shot and the sound from the rifle, remaining perfectly still. My second shot hit it in the shoulder. It wasn't dead, and it wasn't ignoring me any longer. It roared, sounding very pissed off, as it dove for cover behind a nearby boulder.

I grabbed the shotgun as I dropped the now empty rifle. The raptor ran around the boulder and headed straight for me. Standing at the top of the small hill before the pond, I just waited. As he reached the bottom of the hill, I pulled the trigger. The shotgun jerked in my grip and missed the raptor. Halfway up the hill my second shot hit the raptor in the chest. It didn't care - it was really angry. My third shot blew it off the hill and it's dead body landed in the water.

The water in the pond continued rippling as I went by, intent on getting away from the watering hole as soon as possible. I was forced back on to the riverbed as the valley walls narrowed in, but just beyond where the raptor had been hiding another tree trunk had fallen onto the riverbed. I climbed it back up to the relative safety of the riverbed walls.

The valley opened back up just beyond the watering hole, becoming even wider. The walls of the riverbed also dropped away, creating a wide flat area between the valley walls. I had lost my partial safety, but raptors still wouldn't be able to come down from the top of the valley walls. I could see what appeared to be crates farther up the riverbed and as I headed for them, I suddenly heard the angry roar of a raptor. The roar echoed around me and I ran, oblivious to the danger. The crates would give me a vantage point from which to find the raptor if I could reach them before the raptor reached me.

At the crates a truck came into view. Most of the crates were piled on to the truck. I would be safer in the bed of the truck than stuck on this flat land, I knew it, and the raptor knew it. The raptor appeared about 20 meters to my right, running hard to beat me to the truck. I was too close though and I jumped into the bed as the raptor slammed into the side. I dropped the shotgun in the bed of the truck when I landed, but I quickly grabbed the revolver and stood up. The raptor had stopped roaring and I couldn't tell where he was anymore. As I looked over the right side of the truck, a roar came from behind. I turned and fired, missing the raptor. It was skulking below the side of the truck, close to it, using it as a sort of shield.

Jumping on top of one of the crates, I was able to see the raptor more clearly and aim at him better. The truck was on an angle and the crate was moving slowly beneath me so my aim was off. It took only two bullets to kill him, but I also missed him with three others. the revolver was empty.

On top of a tall crate in the bed of the truck was a fully loaded Desert Eagle and in the bed of the truck, to my great delight and joy was a real gun - an M16 with a full clip. I was in heaven. This was the kind of gun to go dinosaur hunting with...if you didn't have a bazooka handy. I picked it up and slung it over my shoulder. I also grabbed the Eagle and left the shotgun.

From my perch on the top of the truck I could see from valley wall to valley wall back at least to the watering hole. There were no dinosaurs around, thankfully. The walls of the riverbed grew to height of about 4 meters ahead of me, but a tree trunk on one side gave me hope that I could stay at the top of the riverbed walls.

This tree trunk was just as difficult to climb as the others and the sight it presented filled me with dread. Down below, in the dried riverbed stood another raptor, sniffing around. That didn't bother me, it would only take two shots from the Eagle to kill it. What did bother me were the valley walls. They had opened up with little broken valleys and ledges that looked like easy travelling for a raptor. I was now forced to stay near the riverbed just to have some advance warning of a raptor coming down from the top of the valley.

I walked down the hill towards the riverbed. The raptor noticed me and charged. I was used to this by now, one shot up, one shot down. The raptor slid down the slight incline, leaving a trail of blood behind.

I walked by into the riverbed and followed its twists and turns until I heard the roars of two raptors beyond a bend in the road. I inched forward, quietly, trying to get a better look. I didn't think the raptors could know I was here, I had been very quiet and they were making a big enough ruckus to drown out any noise I might be making. The walls enclosing the right side of the riverbed had sloped down again so I could climb out, but I never got a chance.

As soon as I saw them I knew I was in trouble. I had finally met an adult raptor. It was bigger and had red stripes instead of the yellow ones that the juvenile wore. The two raptors headed for me. The fight or flight instinct took over as a sickening fear gripped my body. I emptied the Eagle, wounding both, but killing neither. I dropped the gun and ran back to the previous raptor. I had seen a machine gun and another Eagle near it. I reached the guns, grabbed the machine gun and, still running, went up the nearby hill. Turning around I could see that neither raptor had followed. I told myself I was the luckiest girl on the island. Not much consolation considering that I was the only girl on the island.

I followed the riverbed again, more cautiously, with the machine gun pointed towards where the raptors had been. As I reached them the adult had disappeared, probably hiding behind the thick ferns or a tree. The young raptor charged and I emptied the machine gun into it. It fell, riddled with holes, but I didn't stop firing until the gun was empty. The adult stood up, eyeing me like an eagle might eye a rabbit. We were alone now, just it and me. I ran. Hell, so would you. It's not like these things are little green lizards sunning themselves on a wall. At 12 feet long and 6 feet high with a mouth like Jaws you don't want to meet one of these things up close and personal.

I had a good head start and it apparently didn't want to follow me, so I reached the remaining Eagle without a problem. It was full, lucky me, and I headed back. I hoped that the adults were as stupid as most of their kids, but I wasn't taking any chances. As I approached the area, I kept looking in every direction, and listening intently. I had no intention of letting it sneak up on me.

The adult raptor was sniffing the dead one. I felt a pang of guilt for a brief moment. The pang only lasted long enough for me to hear the sickening crunch of the adult taking a bite out of the juvenile. That was the last time I felt any remorse when killing a raptor. It took me four shots to kill the adult. It started to run away after the first shot, so I had to hunt it down and finish it off.

The area that the two raptors were playing in was another wide open area between two narrow clefts in the valley walls. However, beyond this area the river had dug a deep bed through rock and the walls stretched nearly vertically up 6 meters on either side. The high walls promised some safety from anything coming down from above, but there was no place to run away if something was coming towards me. Claustrophobia set in as I followed the riverbed. It meandered through the rock, twisting and turning constantly.

About 20 or 30 meters along the path, the riverbed straightened and another adult was scratching around in the rocks. I aimed and waited for it. The raptor charged, utterly oblivious to the fact that it was already dead. One up, one down was all it took. The raptor skidded to a stop as a pool of blood formed around it. I walked quietly by.

The narrow riverbed continued through the valley, with the walls rising ever higher. At the top of one wall a rusted jeep sat precariously. At the bottom of the ravine, right at about the jeep, stood an adult, sniffing the air and looking at me. I smiled as I took a couple of shots at the jeep. With the second shot the jeep slid from its perch and fell. The raptor managed a feeble roar as the jeep crushed it. Nearby another Desert Eagle lay discarded among the rocks. I picked it up and cleaned it out. It was full. I left the now empty Eagle and proceeded on my way, carefully avoiding the sharp jagged edges of the rusting jeep.

The walls started getting lower as I went. I passed beneath a tree trunk that had fallen across the riverbed. I tried to climb on top of it to reach the walls but it proved impossible with only one arm. A discarded canteen lay on the ground. I idly wondered how long it had lain there, and why.

As I turned a corner I noticed that the riverbed walls were coming down quickly, and I could see open sky. The valley was opening up!

Chapter 6, Spying Anne's Story Chapter 8, Bad Breath
Last updated Sunday, April 22, 2001 12:27 AM

[Freddie]

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New Beginnings – Chapter 8: The Lab
Posted on July 21, 2013 at 3:27 pm



Anne reaches the building within minutes. She had kept running, even after realizing that the rexes weren’t following her. To her, the complex seems much smaller than it had appeared. When she reaches it, she sees that the river is only two dozen yards from her, and that the dinosaurs are closer than they had appeared.


They honk softly, bending and drinking. Several adults playfully nurture several juveniles, and she smiles. She turns to face the building, and says, “So this is an InGen lab? Well, let’s see what they got.”


She steps up a set of concrete steps, saying, “To me, this sounds a bit out of place. No path. Out in the middle of the plains. Hmm…”


Her hand wraps around the metal handle of the concrete door, and pushes it open. “You are now entering—the Twilight Zone.”


She laughs, entering the darkness of the building. “Come on girl, stop with the jokes.”


The building is submerged in the ground, and she has to step down three steps before placing her feet on leveled concrete. On the wall are a set of light switches, near the door. She reaches up, flicking each one. As she flicks the last one, the room becomes illuminated, dimly.


She looks up, at several hanging lights set up in the ceiling in a straight line from the door. The entire room is concrete, and she feels a slight chill. Running along both walls are desks, with papers, folders, and other assorted things all over.


On the walls she sees plaques, pictures, and some glassed objects. “You call this a lab?”


The entire room is like a stretched hallway. It’s only a few paces wide, and runs on for twenty or thirty feet, before ending at a built-in, underground staircase. She can see a dim light coming from below.


She pressed against one of the desks, looking at the files and papers scattered about. What catches her attention is a faded blue binder.


She pulls it out from beneath several papers, and reads the label:


Site B Dinosaur Record


She flips it open. Inside, the papers seem preserved, wrapped inside a plastic covering attached to the three rings in the binder. She unclips the plastic, opening it. The papers inside are attached to the rings as well, and she looks at the first one.


It is some sort of note, and she reads it aloud: “I’m keeping this for myself. It’s a record of all the dinosaurs we’ve currently bred here on Site B. Just pictures, and names. Easier to understand, I say. Be sure to check Rick’s notes if you need assistance.”


She turns the page. The next page is an image of a large, four-legged dinosaur. It has a small head, and it’s curved towards the camera in the image. Running along its back are two amazing rows of plates, which taper back into a thick tail. Attached to the end of the tail are several spikes.


She looks at the name scribbled below the black and white image: Stegosaurus.


She backs into the light, holding the binder open. She turns the page, seeing another image. It’s the horned dinosaur she had seen at the river, and that the raptors had taken down. Anne reads its name: Parasaurolophus.


“Hmm,” she whispers.


Anne turns page after page, reading the names scribbled below each image:


Triceratops.


Pachycephalosaurus.


Brachiosaurus.


Compsognathus.


Tyrannosaur.


Velociraptor.


As she turns the last page, she sees that several more had been attached inside. Inside the rings, she could see scraps of attached paper, like it had been ripped off.


“I wonder why.”


She closes the binder, dropping it down on the desk, and moves on. At another desk on the opposite wall, she searches through papers.


A folder catches her eye. It’s labeled “Private”, and Anne reads a note written underneath: “Rick! They did more than we expected. Check this. Do you think Henry knows?”


She opens the folder, finding papers attached to the folder by a paperclip.


Anne undoes the clip, pulling out the papers. She looks around at the desk, and brushes aside the clutter. She sets down the papers, and looks around. Nearby she finds a chair, which she pulls over and sits down in.


She looks back at the papers, shuffling through them. The papers, she notices, are actually records. They’re marked with “To J. Hammond, From H. Wu.”


On every paper, words have been circled. One catches her eye:


John, we were able to breed the Torosaurus species as requested. Unfortunately, a disease affecting only the Torosaurs swept through. Only a few survived, and we did a bit of testing with the other dinosaurs. The disease never spread. We bred a new batch, with only several survivors. Surprisingly, the disease had not passed on, so we let them out into the island.


“Torosaurs?”


She read many of the circled notes, each one on a different subject. The next one that she read was from a person named C. Kantros, to an H. Wu titled ‘Re: Ankylosaurus Breed’:


Anky-A01 specimen adapted. Released. Anky-A02 and Anky-B05 are also adapted. Released.


Another was an untitled fax to John Hammond from H. Wu:


John, we went through with the Spinosaur clutch. Only three survived from birth, and we sent them over to the Complex. They reached monthly status as expected, but became extremely aggressive. We released male and female year olds. The third died. Female found three weeks later near river, deceased. We lost track of the surviving male.


She continued reading, finding a note thrown into the back of the folder. It was crude; ripped off from another paper. A message spanned the length of one side of it. She read it: “Rick. They lied to us. Looks like Hammond and Henry were keeping it a secret. Rick, they’re breeding dinosaurs that weren’t on the list being planned. Why are they keeping it from us? Is there another group working on these dinosaurs?”


She flipped it over. Another note, written more clearly, read:


I think this is the complete list of species that they’re planning to breed and release not on the original list.


Following it, there was a list of names. Anne whispered them to herself, “Torosaurus. Spinosaurus. Ceratosaurus. Ankylosaurus.”


A final note was written small near the bottom:


Four species. I’m willing to bet there are a few more. I’ll try and look. Why didn’t they tell us?


Anne sets the note on the folder. “What is this all about?”


She looks back through, at the circled notes. After several moments, she closed the folder, and got up from the chair. She looked around the room once more, staring at the stairway leading down.


“This seems more like a record house, rather than a lab.”


She walks around, looking at the different papers, and then returns her stare at the stairs. “I wonder what’s down there.”


She moves away from a nearby desk, walking down the room to the stairs. She looks down, seeing that the bottom steps and the floor around it are illuminated dimly. “Looks like I turned on the lights down there too.”


She let out on foot, letting it drop onto the step below. It’s concrete. She starts walking down the several steps, finally coming upon the concrete floor. “What is this place?”


—–


Around her is a large, underground room. An aisle runs down from the base of the stairs to another flight at the opposite end of the room, where she sees a door. Something is on the wall next to the door, but she can’t make it out.


On her left are two more desks, pushed against the wall. Metal cabinets run against the wall alongside them, like file holders. Behind the desks, getting closer to the aisle, are three large, circular machines. Domed, see-through lids cover the tops of them.


She moves over to one of them, looking inside the lid. The machine’s inside is lined with grass, or some sort of dead plant. The plants have turned yellow. They’re dead.


She walks to each of the machines, seeing nothing inside but dead grass. “What are these?”


She backs into the aisle, inspecting the machines, and then turns around. On the right side of the aisle there are several wheeled table.


“Operating tables?”


Two of them are lying on the floor, little utensils spilled across the concrete. One of the tables is draped in a sheet, matted with a dark substance.


Blood.


Behind the tables, built into the right wall, are two large, wooden doors. The doors themselves are raised a few inches off the ground, and a few inches short of the ceiling. A wooden frame runs along the outside, where the doors are connected.


Anne pulls out one of the tables into the aisle, to get to the doors. She pushes towards one, putting her hands at the top. There’s a click from the other side, and it easily swings open.


She steps inside. The ground is concrete again, and the wall separating the two rooms is concrete as well. They are quite wide, nearly half the wall of the room for each. They go back seven feet, into a wooden wall.


“It’s like some sort of stable.”


She walks forward, moving away from the door, and puts her hands on the wooden wall on the far side. She pushes. “If this was for dinosaurs, they had to have some way to get them in.”


She looks back, thinking of the operating tables blocking the stable doors. “If those were there when these were in use, there’s no way they could’ve gotten dinosaurs in or out into that room. Even if they did, they couldn’t get them up either of those stairways.”


She pushes again. “There must be some other way they got them in.”


Anne gives up, turning to rest her back against the wall. She coughs, and then pushes off, back towards the door. She pushes it open, stepping out.


She looks across the room, towards the desks and the cabinets on the far walls. “Maybe there’s something I can use in those drawers.”


She pushes past the tables, crossing the aisle. She glances back through the lids of the circular machines, and then reaches one of the desks.


Anne starts to pull on the drawers, and then the cabinet drawers. She moves from cabinet-to-cabinet, and also tries the drawers on the second desk.


All locked.


She curses, kicking a cabinet with the side of her foot. It echoes lightly, a small reverberating sound ringing through the room. She spins around, looking back at the operating table.


“There had to be knives—scalpels, or something.” She moves quickly back to the tables, pushing each one aside to inspect the next. She looks at the trays attached to each table, and then the floor where all the utensils are spilled.


“Why me?”


She gets up, shoving a table. It rolls away, colliding with another. Anne stares at the door across the room. Her eyes focus on the poster on the wall.


She walks down the aisle, getting close to the steps under the door. She looks up at the poster.


“A map!”


She jumps up the steps, reaching out against the wall. She grips the top corners of the map, and slowly begins to pull it off. It’s taped, and it comes off easier than she had expected.


She holds it, turning and sitting down on the steps, her back to the door. In the light, she looks at the map.


“Great,” she says. “It’s unfinished.”


Much of the top quarter of the island is missing, not added yet. She scans the rest of the map, seeing that the rest of the map is like a child’s drawing.


In the south-east corner of the island, she sees a big H. It’s against the shore. “I’m willing to bet that’s the harbor.”


Her eyes slowly move up the map, locating a thick blue line trailing through the island. “The river.”


She studies it, following it as it moves north, and then she sees a small dot on the east side of the river. Rising from the dot is a single line, which curves to the river. Where the line ends, there is a D.


“Wonder what that is. If that dot is this place, then that D would be somewhere north of here. Along the river.”


She quickly looks over the rest of the map. “Well, this is pretty much useless.”


She shrugs, folding it up. After it becomes pocket-size, she slides it into her pocket, feeling a slight jam. She pulls it out, reaching in, and feels the note she had found earlier. She sets down the map, opening the note, reading it again.


I have forgotten when, why. We were trapped here, and they came. No choice, so we will run. May God be with us.


She refolds it, pinching it next to the map, and slides both easily into her pocket. She bends her elbows, pushing herself up.


Anne stretches; her arms rising above her head. She walks up the stairs, grabbing the door handle. She pushes, the door opening into the cool afternoon air. She closes her eyes, the breeze refreshing.


She looks back into the dim light of the lab, and then closes the door. It seems to swing shut, slamming. The handle clicks into place.


The river is off to her left; the jungle closing in from the right. Ahead of her she sees a gap in several of the bushes, where the jungle collides with the river. She walks across the grass towards it, realizing that the gap is not beaten, but a wood path.


She steps onto it, hearing the wood panel creak underneath her. She looks ahead, seeing that the path runs through the jungle, until coming out on grass again.


“This is weird.”


She walks down it, the jungle trying to push in on her. In several places, undergrowth has begun to crack through the wood. She steps over it, until reaching the grass. The wood trail continues, towards a large brown shack built against the river.


A dock is set up like a porch of the shack, and Anne can see a boat tied down to it. The river is wide, and the boat fills up only a quarter width. To her, it seems small.


“A boat!”


She runs towards the shack, glancing around on her side of the river, to see the jungle surrounding her.


Anne opens the door to the shack, stepping inside. Everything is dark, and she realizes there are no windows. She fumbles around, searching for a door to the porch-deck outside.


After several moments, she grips a handle, and pulls open the door. Straight out, she sees the lazy movements of the water sliding past to her right. The boat is tied down, facing upstream.


In the stern, she sees an engine. “God, please let it work.”


She steps out across the deck, into the boat. It sinks slightly when she gets in, and she prepares to jump.


Come on Anne, everything’s fine.


Anne sat down in the boat. She figured it was about seven or eight feet long, and had four boards running across so she could sit. She reached over to the deck, undoing the ropes tied against the cleats, locked into the wood.


The rope was surprisingly loose, like whoever had tied it up last was in a hurry, and after several moments she was undoing the second knot.


Her shin kicked an oar resting under the beams, and she noted it. Within a matter of minutes, the boat began to drift backward, downstream.


She picked up the oar, grunting as her back hit the engine digging into her back. She glanced at it once. She had been on boats like this before, and knew how to start it up, so she could control the rudder. She set down the oar, contemplating whether to just spin the boat around with the rudder and continue on, or just turn it using the oar.


“I should save it, just in case it does work. I think I’ll enjoy this little drift before I start it up.”


She turns away, grabbing the oar, and hoists it into the water. She awkwardly tries to turn the boat, failing several times, until she hears a crunch, and the boat slowly starts going downstream sideways. “Hmm…”


She pulls back the oar, setting it down under the board supports. She sits in the stern, resting against the wood and peering out over the bow.


Anne felt herself begin to doze off, as the boat moved gently downstream, carried by the lazy movement of the water.


She tried to keep herself awake, but in minutes, she was asleep.