Not an HL fanfic! :eek:

[Sulkdodds]

This is a fanfiction I've been writing. No, it's not a Half-Life one (it's Jurassic Park. Don't let that discourage you). If the mods aren't happy with it, then hey, they can just move it (although if you do move it to a different section please rename it 'Vietnam-ish Fanfiction'). I wasn't sure where to post this. Anyway...

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2258053/1/

That's the fanfiction.net address. Do me a favour and give your opinion with that site's review feature, would you? :cheers: Here's the first part of the actual story:

Jurassic Park – The Hunters

Helicopter blades thudded overhead, blaring opera music down into the forest. Smoke, fire, flashes of chaos amidst clear blue skies. I watched it all unwind in a drug-fuelled haze. The jungle stretched away, bleeding into the liquid napalm sunset. A radio spluttered.

“Lo nguc, ke manh? Ynoi tre pang.”

I looked blearily into the sun, watched the birdlike silhouettes flit across it.

“Lon! Yar trii pi nga!”

I turned round. Behind me, dark shapes rose up in the trees, sharp teeth, glinting talons. They snarled. In a moment I saw the futility of it all, the reality. “The horror,” I said, perhaps a little too melodramatically. “The horror…”

“Long, you’re tripping. Stop it,” said someone. The dark shapes growled, and pounced.

* * * *

Rewind. A little background is in order, I think.

My name is Samuel Thomas Long. My Dad comes from the Caribbean, my Mum from Scotland, and we all lived in central London. I was a privileged black private school dropout. I enjoy extreme sports, watching films and videogames. I had always been a huge fan of war movies, obsessed, even after my carefree childhood had slipped away into sepia-toned memory, with the glamour of it, that ancient fantasy that you were a soldier fighting a war.

I ended up in Costa Rica, for reasons I won’t divulge. It was just a few years ago and I was trying to dredge up enough money to get myself out of the country. Only I spent all my money in escaping the drudgery, the futility, the ennui of modern life. I frittered away my cash to immerse myself in a fantasy world. Yes, I played a lot of videogames in those days. I was younger then, and greener. Just when things were starting to look up, I was shipped out. Okay, so I volunteered.

Perhaps if I hadn’t been so mired in fantasy this wouldn’t have happened to me. Some very weird shit has happened to me in my life, and I’m writing this just to get it out of my system. Perhaps, by committing it to paper, I’ll better understand it. I don’t expect anybody to read this. I’ve never been a good writer, I got a C-grade in English, so this won’t be a work of art. Memory blurs the details a little: I can’t quite remember exactly what certain people said, but it would be hard to forget the actual events depicted here.

This is the story of what happened just three years ago on a small island off the coast of Costa Rica.

My story.

 

[Sulkdodds]

I: Arrival
Day one
1148 hours

Towering rock walls loomed up on either side, a few shafts of light stabbing down from the sliver of sky above. The two inflatable rubber boats moved slowly along the gully, their beefy outboard motors now silent as we paddled our way in. The walls of the canyon, which wormed its way between the stark cliffs into the interior of the island, were so close I could have touched them. The only noise was of the sea and the faint chirruping of jungle birds high above. It was eerie. It was just how I had imagined it.

But even as we entered this oasis of calm, excitement coursed through me. We were finally here. I was journeying into the mouth of hell. I was going out to live in the jungle, learn how to survive. We all were. The dingy bounced off the side of the ravine. I checked my rifle, an M-16 with attached scope and a long barrel. The others had more heavy-duty firearms. Sniper rifles and machineguns. But what can I say? We had to buy our own, and I didn’t have that much money to spare - I had spent most of my cash on just getting over here. I wouldn’t need any of it anymore.

I looked around, fiddling with the joint between my fingers and then taking a long drag. Funny, I had never been a big one for drugs before but I felt I had to get into the feel of things, get into the mood. Coles, a small man with a moustache altogether too big for him, offered me a sandwich.

“Ain’t got time to feed,” I quipped.

He shrugged and took a bite into the food. I carried on staring upriver, wondering what this place had in store for us. We were here to hunt and we were ready for anything the jungle could throw at us. Armed to the teeth, camouflage fatigues bought cheap from army surplus and a hired pleasure yacht that we wouldn’t be returning. Hell, I’d even found the time to get hold of a tin helmet and scrawl ‘Born 2 Grill’ on the side.

The canyon was becoming more shallow now, the sounds of the sea more distant. I wiped sweat off my brow and trailed my hand in the cool water, watched a few fish nibble at my dark skin. A chopper strummed the air faintly in the confines of my head. Relax.

Hannigan, who was in a way the leader of our group – a well built man with another fine moustache and a Texan drawl, the archetypal American big game hunter – raised his hat from its position over his eyes. He looked back to the other dinghy, and signalled to Blake, a tall black man who kept taking long gulps from his canteen.

“Okay guys. We’re about to land. Be ready, yeah?” he said, raising his gun. “You all remember what I told you.”

Oh, and he’d told us plenty. Don’t leave a trace. Watch your back all the time. Be stealthy, clear up any mess you make, keep everything with a smell in sealed plastic bags and always stay within sight of another person. There’d been lots to memorise. But that just added to the fun – we were being drilled, trained and given a briefing. I was eager to get into combat, so to speak.

The change in the landscape was sudden. In seconds, we were drifting down a deep, wide river with banks a few metres tall and gently sloped. Long grass and tropical trees rimmed the edges, with vines hanging down over the brown waters. A few in our group were chatting idly. Someone was even listening to Hendrix on a walkman. It was all so perfect.

The jungle’s sounds and smells were more brutal now, less of a background than a pervasive, insidious force, hammering itself into our senses. The sunlight hit us at full strength, as did the horrid humidity of the tropics. Despite the industrial-strength insect spray, we were being eaten alive by biting flies. It was so hot half the group had already taken off their tops, and even I removed my helmet. Hannigan began to steer the boat in towards a likely looking shore, where an old jetty and rundown boathouse stood, overgrown and reclaimed by nature.

The bottom of the dinghy scraped across the mud below, and one at a time we disembarked. As soon as I stepped off I was up to my ankles in mud and grime, and I held my gun aloft as I waded towards dry land. The others already there were standing around, waiting for the second boat to pull up, sharing a cigarette.

“Having some trouble there, Long?” sneered Smith. “Keep up.”

I gave him a cursory ‘whatever’ and sat down on a log, raising my own spliff to my lips and laying my rifle across my lap. I watched the others disembark and then Hannigan and Blake pull the boats ashore. They would be needed to bring more supplies from the ship, but after that they would be deflated and stored in the boathouse until the need for them came again. After that was done, Hannigan held his finger to his lips, and set off into the undergrowth.

Almost immediately I felt the savagery of the place close in around me, the promise of death skulking in the air and in the darkness. I was up to my armpits in wet vegetation, fern leaves and prehistoric flora. As for the fauna, I was hoping I’d get a chance to see some real soon. After a few minutes we could no longer hear the sound of running water from behind us. Somewhere in the distance, there was a throaty cry.

Jungle. Let me tell you about the jungle. Imagine the hottest you’ve ever been, then imagine it twice as hot. And wet. The air is almost steam, so humid it’s covering your skin with little water droplets that mingle with the sweat and then run down your arms, drip through your clothes, soak them. You step uncertainly over debris on the ground, because it’s covered in dried leaves and knobbly roots. And it’s loud. That’s something you’d never imagine before you had experienced it, but the chorus of the birds and the bees is almost deafening. Often you can’t see more than ten feet in front of you, and it’s darker than you’d expect. The only light is dappled, like sunlight refracted through the surface of a swimming pool onto the submerged tiles.

The weirdest thing is how big it is. How utterly dwarfed you are by the gigantic trees, the tall ferns. Some of the trees were so big its roots were taller than we were, and formed valleys and rifts all around the trunk. The canopy is far above. Bushes and plants are twice as tall as you and all of them are growing ever upwards towards the light. We were wanderers in a prehistoric dream.

“Man, this is so cool,” I muttered.

My gun was sweaty in my hands as I stepped carefully between giant gnarled tree roots and rotting logs. Behind me, Coles and a former white-collar worker in LA, Bradley, were chatting idly.

“So where you from, Coles? Why’d you come out here?”

I heard Coles’ thin, reedy voice answer. “I was back in San Diego before I met Han –“ (what we called Hannigan) “- and I owed a lot of people a hell of a lot of money. When my girlfriend left me I decided there was no point me staying. Went down to Costa Rica. Met Han in Puerto Dominica and here I am, man. Hey, Long. What about you? You’re a Brit. How’d you meet Han?”

I turned. “And how is it your business…?”

Coles shrugged, like he always did. “Hey, I just wanted to know, man. We all got our reasons. You don’t wanna tell us? Sure, that’s cool.”

I didn’t. That was what I was here for. To escape.

“Quiet,” said Blake, in a hoarse stage whisper. Hannigan held up his hand and I bumped into the back of the man in front of me. Everyone crouched down in the undergrowth as Blake slowly raised his rifle. I was so excited you could have seen me jittering. It must be the real thing, I thought.

“I see one,” said Blake again, in his monotone voice. “It’s big…bigger than a man…looks carnivorous…”

Hannigan sidled up next to him and peered through his binoculars. I raised my head above the foliage and saw a dim shape in the forest ahead. I inhaled quickly.

“Ah…magnificent,” he said. “It’s a Carnotaurus. You want to do the honours?”

There was a lot of excited whispering. Several of us craned our necks and brought binoculars to eyes to get a glimpse of the beast. They were all thinking the same as me. A dinosaur. This was so cool.

Blake grinned and set his gun’s folding bipod on a rock. “I’ve got it...”

 

[Maxey]

Excelent story! Keep it up! :cheers:

 

[bliink]

Really well written :thumbs:

 

[Killbot]

...
(Too excited to talk.)

 

[Sulkdodds]

Thanks for the comments, guys! Here's the first part of chapter 2...

II: Hardcore, Man
Day One
1230 hours

“Bloody hell,” I muttered, wafting the gun smoke away.

“Yeah, I think it’s dead now Blake. You only had to fire once,” said Smith.

Blake only grinned and folded up his bipod again. I stood up, peering through the plants ahead. Hannigan began to creep through them, towards the body. I followed suit, brushing past moist ferns and tree trunks.

The dinosaur had been large. Around eight feet tall and twice as long, greenish in colour and apparently a biped when it was alive, it lay sprawled on the ground. It looked like it could easily gore every one of us. Its jaws displayed rows of sharp serrated teeth and two stubby horns protruded from just above its eye sockets, which were nothing more than a mess of blood and bullet holes. The skin looked tough and rubbery, the pattern of the scales reminding me of pebbles on a garden path. The monster’s leg, muscular and powerful looking, was still switching.

“Distributed nerve systems, see,” said Hannigan. “They don’t die all at once.”

Blake wrinkled his nose at the stench, and then bent down to take a closer look at the thing. He felt its clawed arms, squeezed and pinched the hard scaly flesh, and prised open its bloodied jaws to stare at the array of dirty white daggers, strips of old flesh still ensnared upon them. A moment later he took his knife and stabbed it down into the gum around one of the larger teeth, wrenching the blade back and forth until the tooth finally tore out. Blake pocketed the prize and stood up.

“Happy?” smirked Hannigan.

“Oh hell yeah. Hell yeah.”

* * * *

We moved on through the steaming mists. As I walked, I swung my gore-tex rucksack round so it was slung across my chest, and searched through it for the map that each of us had been given a copy of. The map of Isla Sorna.

Ah, there it was, crammed in between the plastic bags containing food and some books on jungle survival (plus one on dinosaurs which I had bought from a second hand shop just in case). I pulled it out, gripping it under my chin. There was the river landing, or the LZ as I liked to call it, circled in red crayon. And there was what Hannigan had worked out would be the best place for a base camp. A red ring around a small hill on the southeast side of the island, with the legend ‘Bravo Base’ scrawled next to it, in herbivore territory and near the coast. We wouldn’t be attracting much attention from the ‘lizards’, as most people called them, with all the precautions we had taken to make no sound, no smell, and leave no sign of our existence. And in emergencies, we had more weapons than a small third-world country.

I slid the map into one of my rucksack’s side pockets, and looked ahead. We were now moving through slightly less dense jungle, on the edge of a large area of scrubland, with (I checked the map once again) the ominous spine of the Ridge Road rising up behind it. Around us was the wide delta of the island’s river. In the far distance I thought I saw long necks above the trees, but it could easily spires of smoke from the geothermal geysers I knew were dotted around the Southwest, or my imagination, which was already in overdrive. I turned my head to face every rustle in the bushes, every suggestion of the sound, on the lookout for a potential kill. But there was nothing nearby. I rolled a joint to calm myself, and concentrated on admiring the scenery, beautiful in a hard-edged, primitive way.

We had been marching for a long time, and my feet were long since tired and my boots long since soaked when Hannigan, creeping along in front, held up his hand for us to halt. He turned around and spoke to us in a quiet voice.

“Okay. Well, welcome to lizard country, ladies. The ultimate wilderness holiday ain’t it? Now before we set up camp we’re going on a little teamwork exercise. If we want to survive here we gotta work together, right? So we’re going out to kill us a big ****in’ lizard. I want you all to keep quiet, stay in twos and follow my lead. Now let’s go.”

I was thrilled. My first combat operation already. Excited muttering welled up from all sides of the group, and from everybody I heard the subtle click of people checking their firing chambers. I looked at the compass mounted on my wristwatch and saw that we were heading east, towards the plains where herbivores apparently grazed in huge herds. Coles tapped me on the shoulder.

“Time to have some fun, yeah? Should be a right laugh.” He said. “Hey, you look flushed. You okay?”

“The heat,” I said, and turned away, climbing over a fallen tree and moving on.

It wasn’t long before I heard them. Ahead of us, a loud honking, and a continuous low hoot. The jungle here was more akin to redwood grove than tropical jungle and huge trees towered above a relatively sparse forest floor. Cold light shone through the trunks, outlining them in shades of black. In a clearing ahead I saw something big block the light, and then move aside again. Everybody stayed low as we fanned out along the edge of trees, staying hidden among the foliage. Me, Smith and some guy named Dearing I didn’t really know ended up together, trying to keep ourselves hidden.. The hooting, and the sound of heavy breathing, was deafening. I parted the leaves.

Right in front of me, a brown scaly leg pounded the mud, then lifted away. Then a long tail whipped past, revealing the scene. A herd of large horse-faced dinosaurs, each one as big as trucks, milled around the sparse trees, large ones pulling leaves from trees and passing them down to smaller beats, which I assumed were the babies. The adults had a huge crest extending from the back of their head, which supported a loose flap of vibrantly coloured skin that seemed to brighten and darken as the animals moved. Vast muscles were clearly visible writhing under a their thick skins. For such huge creatures they moved incredibly fast, seeming alert and intelligent. But their eyes were blank and docile. I tried to remember the quick glance I had given the dinosaur book on the boat.

“Hadrosaurs,” I whispered. “Erm…Parasaurus. Or something.”

“Yeah, whatever, Long. Be quiet,” hissed Smith, raising his rifle.

I lay down between two tree roots, and jammed my own gun it into the crook of my shoulder. I flicked the fire setting to single shot mode and waited. Looking slightly to the right I saw Hannigan and Blake, frantically signalling for everybody to watch one particular dinosaur, which had started to move away from the rest of the herd. Silently we retreated back into the ferns and flitted between the tree trunks, angling towards the lone animal. It walked slowly deeper into the forest, stopping here and there to nibble at plants. The rest of the group was a little way behind, save three men who were sneaking round the other flank of our quarry.

The animal stopped to sniff at the ground, an oddly dog-like behaviour for such a massive creature. We were now little more than twenty metres away. Hannigan signalled silently for us to ready for the kill. I peered through the scope of my gun, resting the crosshairs first on the thing’s side, and then on its head.

“Lizards won’t know what hit ‘em,” whispered Smith.

Suddenly I caught a glimpse of something else, watching.

 

[Sulkdodds]

A long, lizard snout protruded from behind a bush, palm fronds covering the animal’s body. It was brownish, with dull green stripes down its neck and back. It was obviously a predator. It opened its mouth for a moment, displaying sharp teeth and a long, almost prehensile tongue, and then snapped it shut. A viciously clawed hand rose to scratch. Its eyes were focused on the hadrosaur. I go the impression of cold, calculated intelligence, and more than that, malice. There was a gloating evil about it, like it would enjoy killing you not for food, but for pleasure.

I waved my hand at Hannigan and he nodded. He saw it too. He shook his head, no. Wait and see what happens.

I scanned the tree line opposite. There were three or four heads concealed in the undergrowth. I caught a glimpse of a sleek powerful body and thin tail through the trees. I held my breath. Nothing happened for nearly two minutes. My trigger finger was beginning to itch.

Bam.

Without warning two of the things shot from cover just ten metres to our left. They moved like lightning, so fast I couldn’t believe it, and leapt onto the hadrosaur’s back with an unearthly screech. Only now did the others spring forth, covering the ground easily and cutting the prey to ribbons. I watched, stunned.

The hadrosaur bellowed, an ear-splitting screech so loud it made my eyes water, and stumbled sideways. One of the predators darted in, nipped at its belly and jumped quickly backwards. Two others clung to its heaving sides and gutted it. One slashed at the neck, a crimson spray gushing forth. The hadrosaur stopped bellowing. It swayed. The hunters detached themselves just in time as the huge animal keeled over with a final nasal honk and hammered into the mud. The air was thick with dust and animal screeching.

I couldn’t see much in the frenzy bar flashes of ripping talons, snapping jaws and sprays of blood as the predators jabbered and yowled, spluttered and chuckled in their weird guttural gargle. Smith tapped me on the shoulder and we silently retreated.

It was too late. One animal looked up for a second and let out a high-pitched roar, spreading its jaws wide and tensing its body. A moment later it was charging.

Fifteen metres, ten, five…

“Shoot it! Shoot the thing!” screamed Smith behind me.

I froze. Faced with the enemy, I was suddenly powerless. And now it was in my face, the claws and talons and teeth thrashing before me.

“Shoot!”

There was a deafening explosion next to my ear as Dearing fired and the dinosaur jerked backwards, flame ripping into its chest. I scrambled away as it began to convulse, falling on its side on the ground and going into spasms. Blood splattered on the tree next to me. Smith yanked me backwards and shouted something, but I couldn’t hear. The gunshot had deafened me. I started to run.

Dearing was right next to me, holding his smoking machinegun. He looked stunned for a second, and then followed suit, turning and fleeing into the jungle.

Behind me I heard screams, snarls and one loud bang as the rest of the pack attacked. Looking to the side I saw Blake, Hannigan and Coles all running and firing back behind them. There was a loud panting behind me but I didn’t dare turn around. I kept running, raced between trees, over logs and debris, and stumbled down a hill thick with greenery. I ducked and rolled on landing and hit flat ground running once again. My shoulder bounced off a tree. I kept going.

I heard gunshots in the forest, and animals screaming. Jungle flashed past, a green and brown blur. I splashed across a shallow stream, up the opposite bank and onwards into thicker undergrowth. I stumbled, fell over, got back up again, and tripped over a tree root, falling face-first in the dirt.

Breath came in short ragged bursts. Amazingly, I was still gripping my M16, knuckles white. The world spun. I looked around.

Nothing.

I braved standing up and saw Dearing, leaning against a tree, out of breath. Winded, I bent from the waist, gripped my knees, and vomited from pure exertion.

Dearing looked up. He was grinning. “****in’ A, man! You believe that?” He gasped.

I just stared at him. “You enjoying yourself?” I managed. He just laughed. So did I.

“Crazy,” I said.

“Don’t start laughing about it, you goddamn coward,” said a voice behind me. I turned. It was Smith. My smile faded.

“I saw you,” he said. “Do you have no balls, is that it? You could have gotten us all killed!”

“Yeah,” I said. “Nice to see you too, Smith.”

“To hell with you. You freakin’ froze, man. You’re a goddamn coward,” he repeated as I started to walk away in the direction I thought the others might be.

“Spare me this, please. Let’s just get back to the others,” I sighed. Problem was, he was right. We had come out here to escape monotony, to be something, become masters of our own worlds. Be real men. And there I was, petrified into inaction in the face of danger. I didn’t dare look at Dearing, my savour.

* * * *


Lost in the jungle for days, avoiding the lizards and surviving on nuts and berries once our meagre rations ran out, we would eventually get back to camp just in time to fend off a massive attack. That was how it was supposed to go. In reality, we had hardly walked half a mile from the hunting party and soon found them, especially as they were looking for us.

I walked through a veil of vines to be confronted with the barrel of a gun, and behind that Hannigan’s stern face. The gun dropped.

“Hey there, kids,” he said. “Don’t say a god damn word and follow us.”

I followed, Dearing and Smith (who was scowling) in close step behind. Hannigan moved ahead to the front of the column as we moved on through the trees and eventually came to a dried-up streambed. The rest of the group climbed down into it and followed it up a hill. The hill, I assumed.

When we got to the top I was surprised to discover tents and sandbags had already been set up. Coles was there, hammering away at what looked like the beginnings of a hut. Others were securing tent pegs or just sitting around smoking. Hannigan sat down in a hammock strung between two trees and lit a cigar of his own. Typical, I thought. The officers get cigars while us grunts have to make do with DIY rollups.

“Welcome back, you three. Make yourselves comfortable and report for drilling in twenty minutes. This isn’t a holiday camp. Carry on.”

“You goddamn-“

“Shut it, Smith,” I said, ducking into a tent where Bradley and two other no-name squaddies were playing cards. I dumped my bag and almost got out into the open air before someone piped up, “So I hear you froze out there today, huh Long?”

I didn’t even turn my head. “What of it?”

“Were you scared? Scared of the lizards?”

This time I did turn. The speaker was…Clark, that was his name. “Yes, Clark. I was so terrified I screamed like a big girly girl.” The group s******ed.

“Yeah, very funny! Very funny, greenhorn!” shouted Clark as I stepped out. I took care to loosen the pegs on the tent. I didn’t want him not to have an accident.

 

[Fuse Kazuki]

Awesome fanfiction, keep it up man! That was really the only thing I could say.

 

[Sulkdodds]

More! Yay, this is fun. Btw I can't say this enough, go and review this! It makes me happy!

III: Sanctuary
Day 2
0510 hours

The camp had been fully completed before sundown. Sandbag walls were erected and tripwires were set up all around the base to warn of impending doom. The hut was finished surprisingly quickly, and was used to store all the perishable foods and some of the hardware we had brought. The centre of the place was a large marquee tent of camouflage canvas, with enough room for us to all sit down inside it. It had taken several boat trips to ferry all the equipment from our big boat anchored offshore. People had sectioned off their own little corners, with many hammocks strung between the trees at the edge of the clearing.

Hannigan had his own tent, complete with a crudely fashioned desk he had hacked himself from a tree trunk. Outside there was a blackboard with the day’s operations and task rota scribbled on it. He seemed intent on running as tight a ship as possible with military precision, and that suited me fine.

The next morning, bright and clear, dawned. Today’s board read:


‘5:00am – Wakeup, all squads
5:30am – Fall in, all squads
6:00am – Recon, Sector 1 North, Alpha squad
- Recon, Sector 3 East, Bravo squad
- Camp duties, Charlie squad

12:00pm – Lunch, all squads
1:00pm – Hunt, Sector 2 West, Alpha Squad
- Camp duties, Bravo squad
- Fishing, Charlie squad

5:00pm – Report in, all squads
6:00pm – Dinner, all squads
7:00pm – Camp duties, all squads
7:20pm – R&R, all squads
9:00pm – Hunt, Sector 3 East, Bravo squad

12:00am – Report to base, all squads
12:15am – Guard duty, Charlie squad
- Lights out, Alpha & Bravo squads’


…But of course, Alpha and Bravo squads got all the fun. I pitied the poor guys in Charlie squad…

‘IMPORTANT NOTICE:
Alpha Squad: Hannigan, Blake, Denver,
Bravo Squad: Clark, Marlow, Coles, Medina, Ellis
Charlie Squad: Dearing, Long, Bradley, Smith,

Stay in groups at all times!

-Han’

…Damn. Damn. I couldn’t believe it. One screw up and already I was on shit detail. The fact that Smith was also stuck in the lower ranks offered a little satisfaction, but not enough. Not nearly enough. Fishing? Camp duties? When did I get to go kill me something? Where was the action? I would be having words about this. Oh yes.

Dearing came up and stood next to me. “Man,” he said. “This sucks.”

“Tell me about it,” I answered. “Come on, let’s go out and check those tripwires. We can have a smoke.”

He nodded curtly, and we set off down the hill into the trees. Dearing rolled the fattest joint I had ever seen and smoked it while his hand rested on his gun the whole time. Like he was some highly trained commando or something. He kept taking shifty glances around him, scanning for threats. Okay, so I was as caught up in the atmosphere of the place as he was, but it still riled me. As I bent to look at one of the tripwires something snapped in the undergrowth. Like a shot, Dearing had his gun to his hip and was swinging it around in wild arcs.

“Jesus, Dearing!” I shouted, surprised. “Put it away!”

I stood up in time to see a small squirrel-like creature dash away into the undergrowth. Dearing looked embarrassed and lowered the M60. “Sorry, man. Just a little jumpy.”

“Christ…look, calm down, right? You’re not in a combat zone. Nothing. Is. Happening.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright. I said sorry.”

“Fine.”

“Hey, you see something?”

I spun. Dearing laughed. “Joking,” he said simply, and turned away towards the next tripwire. I sighed, mopped my brow, and followed him, marvelling, now I had the time, at the verdant wildlife. High above, the constant jungle cacophony continued.

“Reminds me of my time in ‘Nam,” said Dearing. “Cheltenham.”

That was one of many days that passed incredibly, agonisingly slowly. It was better later, when Dearing and me became good friends – but at the time it was just depressing. We spent our time fishing, or clearing fields and planting crops around the base camp. Hannigan had told us at first we would need to make a few trips across on the boat to the mainland, to gather supplies and so on, until we had our self-sustained paradise up and running smoothly. Anyway, when we did go hunting it was fun, but always with Smith. Smith, who could turn anything I said into an opportunity to verbally slap me in the face. Dearing couldn’t stand him and his holier-than-thou attitude either. Smith’s shooting sucked, not that he would admit it. Bradley wasn’t so bad, but he would do anything Smith said and was so incredibly dim it was hard to believe.

“Man, he really is stupid isn’t he?” I said to Dearing one day, as we sat on the riverbank, legs dangling in the water and fishing rods abandoned at our sides along with our heavy boots. We were watching as Smith and Bradley had an argument on the other side of the bank, about how to catch more fish. Bradley maintained that they should just use their guns.

Dearing adopted a frankly ridiculous Southern accent. “Son, he may look dim, but it’s good ol’ boys like him that are winning this war,” he deadpanned.

I snorted. “The only thing he’d win is a staring match. He’s like Forrest Gump or something.”

“Yeah. He probably thinks this is just one big long wilderness holiday,” Dearing said, and crossed his eyes. “Duh, we’d take these real long walks and we were always looking for this guy named Charlie.”

“In a way this is like a holiday, you know?” I said with a laugh. “We get to go out and pretend to be soldiers, only we are soldiers. It’s fun.”

Lifting a joint to his lips, Dearing cocked his head. “Sure, you may think it’s fun now. But you wait till you’re biting the dirt in down in the valley with overgrown lizards biting your ass off. You won’t be laughing.”

“But you will. Like a ****ing lunatic.”

Dearing laughed and picked up his fishing rod, hurling the bait into the water. “We should catch something before Bradley really does start shooting,” he said.

I walked past him, further down the river to where it was at least ten metres wide, and crawled out on top of an outcropping of rock. I stood up and waved to Smith on the other side of the river, flipped him the bird, and cast my line out into the muddy water. I wanted to look at the books I had brought with me without interruption.

The first was the I-Spy Dinosaurs book. Every time you saw a dinosaur (skeleton. Not a real one, obviously) in a museum you were supposed to tick it off in the book for a certain value of points. Once you had fifty points you could send off for a badge or something. I flicked through the garishly coloured pictures until I saw something I recognised:

‘Name: Parasaurolophus (pronounced Para-saw-oh-loaf-us)
Size: 8-12 metres long, 4-5 metres tall.
Weight: 2-5 tons.
Diet: Plants
Period: Mid-Late Cretaceous

Parasaurolophus was a large herbivore (plant eater) that lived in the Cretaceous period. It had a large crest on its head and had a very unusual nose. It stood on two legs and moved in groups, the adults protecting the babies. Parasaurolophus would have been able to run fast and probably had very good eyesight and hearing.

ٱ 2 points.’

It was at this point I realised I probably should have taken the time to get a proper dinosaur book, one for adults. Despite myself I searched my bag for a pen and ticked the little box at the bottom of the paragraph. Glancing at the picture again, I was satisfied that the artist had gotten the colour completely wrong.

A cheap spy novel whiled away half an hour at least. It might have lasted longer if the fishing rod hadn’t suddenly jerked violently in my hands, causing me to drop the book into the clear water below the rock I was perched atop. I shouted and stood up, wrestling with the line. Twenty metres away Dearing rose and ran along the bank towards me, looking into the water to see what had taken the bait.

“It’s a big one!” he shouted. “Give it a bit of slack, I’ll try and catch it with the net!”

I obliged and felt the thing thrash from side to side on the other end of the nylon line. Dearing slid underneath the rock outcropping and reached out with his net. “Reel her in!”

The fish stopped flapping for a moment and I wound the reel back towards me, hearing the click as the line was pulled in. Dearing leaned further out over the water. I took a step forward and braced myself against the rock. I heard Dearing shout that he almost had it, and then there was an enormous tug on the line.

The next few moments were like something out of a cartoon, a Tex Avery sketch brought to life. The rod jerked so hard that I fell off the rock and face-first into the water. There was a stinging slap and next moment I was immersed in a storm of bubbles and white foam. The line snapped, leaving the fishing rod still in my hands and me thrashing around.

My head broke the surface and I gasped air, opened my eyes to bright light. Behind me I heard Dearing laughing manically, and in front of me I saw Bradley on the other bank, stunned. I stayed there, treading water, staring at the rod in my hands.

“Bloody hell,” I said. “Big ****ing fish.”

Dearing threw his head back. “Haha! I can’t believe this! Talk about the one that got away! How big was it, grandpa? Haha! Hahaaohshit-“

Mid-cackle he lost his balance on a slippery stone and belly-flopped into the water. I raised an eyebrow and clapped my hands appreciatively.

Dearing rose to the surface, and grabbed at the roots on the bank. I climbed up onto a rocky shelf and rolled over onto my back, staring up at the sky.

“That,” I said, “was the most amazing triple-flip flail entry with pike I have ever seen in my life.”

“Do I get a medal?”

“Sure. And we’ll throw a parade in your honour.”

Dearing finally stopped floundering around and managed to drag himself up onto the mud. “I won’t tell anybody if you don’t, huh?” he panted.

“Right,” I said, and then stood up. “Hey Bradley!” I hollered, hands cupped around mouth. “Forget what you just saw!”

“Forget what?” he yelled back. For an idiot, he could be amazingly perceptive.

 

[tinyxipe]

Just reviewed your story on fanfic.net. I hate waiting for those things. Feh. Anyway, I was pleased to find even more to read on the other site.

Excellent story. You have quite a talent for description and atmosphere. I'd love to get a review from you on my story. I'm sure you know how it helps keep up that creative spirit.

I'll be keeping an eye on this!

 

[knut]

I read up the next chapter on the fanfic site, great work. Look forward to the next part.

 

[Sulkdodds]

A short one, this.



Endless afternoons in the sun fishing and relaxing near the camp, or stalking the jungle, treading carefully, watching for the slightest hint of a sound, enveloped me. Looking back it’s all blur. A hazy, lazy summer holiday, suddenly and sharply interrupted by occasional gunshots. Seeing Ellis’ body brought back, flesh stripped to the bone, and buried without much ceremony. There was just enough danger, just enough creeping menace, to keep us sharp. Always go out in threes and fours because the dinosaurs, even the raptors, were less likely to attack a grouped target. They’d keep out of your way. Go out on your own, and the compys or the raptors or even sometimes the big carnotaurs would pick you off.

Heat haze on the horizon as me and Dearing sat on the rock by the river, smoking, arguing about whether it was ‘grey’ or ‘gray’, ‘colour’ or ‘color’, bitching about pet hates, discussing our favourite films and videogames.

“So what’s your favourite Vietnam film?” I said.

“Full Metal jacket. Easily.”

We had gotten good at fishing. We didn’t go hunting much, Charlie squad.

“Hmm,” I murmured, gazing across the valley at long dinosaur necks towering over the trees, five miles away. “It’s a toss-up between Platoon and Apocalypse Now-“

“Redux or original?” Dearing said.

Part of why we were friends was our shared oppression by the rest of the group. Sad to say, it wasn’t just that first mission where I earned my reputation as a coward. The second one, I didn’t get any kills. Third, I hid when I was supposed to be a decoy. Fourth, I had left my safety catch off and accidentally fired a clip into a bush, scaring away the quarry. The most recent mission I had actually ‘killed me a lizard’. But only after Dearing had gone a little crazy with the gun and scared a rogue parasaur towards me. Dearing didn’t get the best treatment, being with me. But he stuck with me, didn’t sell out for popularity points. Thanks, Dearing.

“How you doing there, greenhorn?“ asked Smith. Every day.

“I would steer clear of him, Dearing. He’ll get you killed,” said Blake.

Taunts echoed in my head. I was feeling a little drowsy, out of touch with reality. Might have been the heat, or the weed, or both.

“How’s your friend, huh? Least he’s not a coward,” said Smith.

“Better get serious if you want to kill something,” said Denver, a lackey of Blake’s.

“Hey, FNG! Don’t point that thing at me!” said Clark.

“Hey, you scared, kid? Don’t be,” smirked Blake.

“You freeze this time, huh?” said Blake.

“Still freezing?” Smith.

“You scared, kid?”

“Scared, are you?”

“Scared?”

“Redux,” I said, blowing a smoke ring. “Definitely Redux.”

 

[Sulkdodds]

IV: Hunting Raptors
Day 45
0621 hours

I woke up slowly and groggily. The day had dawned like any other, with everyone else going off to their respective duties and leaving me alone to clear up the mess they had left behind. Bastards.

Light filtered through the thin olive-drab canvas of the tent roof. I poked my head out into the sunlight, leaving the squalid tent littered with snack wrappers, plates of last night’s fish leftovers and abandoned sleeping bags. Outside the camp was nearly deserted apart from Hannigan and Dearing, who were sitting, talking, in deck chairs outside the command tent.

Hannigan beckoned me over and offered me a light. I politely declined.

“So, what are you doing today, Long?” he said, with more respect than usual.

I glanced at the rota. This was a test, right? “Camp duty, sir,” I replied. “First I was going to clear up the tent, and then go out on perimeter patrol. Sir.”

Hannigan looked up at me and gestured to an empty deckchair. “Sit down, why don’t you?”

“More comfortable standing up, sir. What is it you want?”

“Suit yourself,” Hannigan drawled. “Now I know you boys haven’t been having much fun lately. You’re well meaning fellows. A little green, perhaps, but good men. Now I’ve been thinking, and-“

Dearing, who had been looking as if he was about to burst, couldn’t take it any longer.

“We’re hunting raptors, Long! Raptors! Tonight!” he said gleefully.

Hannigan glared at him and gave him a punch on the shoulder. “Don’t you interrupt me, son. Yep, you’re going hunting tonight. Have another look at that board.”

I did. Looking down the list I saw we were on camp duties the entire day, until…

‘9:00pm – Recon, Sector 5 South, Charlie squad (Smith + Bradley).
- Hunt, Sector 3 North, Charlie squad (Long + Dearing).’

My eyes widened. I looked at Hannigan.

“I’ll be coming with you, of course,” he said. “To make sure it goes smoothly.”

After I had stuttered my thanks he stood up and told us to meet him in the command tent at nine, before retreating into his sanctuary. Dearing stared at me. I stared at him.

We both began talking fast in the same instant. “This is it!” I said. “Let’s go tool up!”

“I can’t believe this! Man, this is cool,” Dearing was saying. We ran back to our tent and armed ourselves, today paying more attention to gun checks and maintenance than ever before. We prepared extra clips and camo netting for the evening and left for the morning patrol. Before long, we were back in the jungle.

We patrolled slowly along the dried up streambed southeast of camp. Ferns and vines were draped lazily from the overhanging canopy. Somewhere, a dinosaur bellowed, miles away.

“What time is it?” I asked.

Dearing didn’t even look at his watch. “You asked me five minutes ago. Therefore it is…five past eleven.” Now he checked it. “Yep. Five past eleven.”

I sighed. “Thought it was half an hour since I asked you at least. This is one of those boring days that’s going to go agonisingly slowly, isn’t it?”

Dearing wiped his brow, and nodded. “Can’t wait to get out there,” he said. “Imagine it. There we are, in the middle of the jungle. It’s night, you can’t see shit. We’re gripping our guns, our knuckles are white. Hannigan’s just ahead, scanning the area with his binoculars. He opens his mouth to say something. And that-“ Dearing jerked his head to his left and made violent slashing motions with his hands, “-is when they strike. A raptor leaps from the undergrowth straight onto him and rips his throat out. We’re shocked. We can’t move.”

He grinned and mimed along to his story. “Suddenly, you come to your senses and raise your gun, like this, and you switch to full auto and you fire.” He pretended to be shooting a gun. “Bam bam bam bam! Splat! It goes down, but now they’re all around us. We’re back to back, firing into the woods.” He spun around. “I spin around, and there’s one behind me. You fire past my shoulder, blowing its head right off. I shout out and shoot past you. The raptor running up behind you gets twenty bullets right between the eyes.”

I laughed. “What happens next?”

Dearing smiled and made frantic gestures. “Lizards to the right of us, lizards to the left of us, danger all around. We’re standing in a pile of shell casings but there’s too many of them. We’re going to die. My gun clicks dry and so does yours. Three raptors, as if on cue, rise from the bushes and prepare to strike.”

“Well, that’s it, is it?” I say, feigning disappointment. “I never even got to raise a family. Man, I wasted my life.”

“Just as those thoughts enter your head and you prepare to be slaughtered, we hear rotor blades and rock music blaring above us. Halos of light surround us. A spotlight glares. The forest flattens down around us. It’s Blake and the others in a helicopter.”

“Dearing. We don’t have any helicopters.”

“Shut up. Blake’s manning the M60 and sprays bullets at the raptors. The chopper lands, the wind almost bowls us over. A dozen hands grab us and pull us on board. We lift off to the sound of the music. The last raptor gets a shotgun in the face for its troubles. The chopper flies into the sunset. Cue credits!”

I shook my head, laughing. “How the hell do we fly into the sunset? It’s night.”

“Ah, who cares,” said Dearing. “Don’t cheapen it. Tonight is going to be so cool. I am so-“

He didn’t get any further (perhaps a good thing) because at that moment a twig snapped in the vegetation, somewhere off to our right in the trees. This time, I was ready. Before I knew it I had my gun at the ready and I was charging into the jungle. I dimly I heard Dearing call out behind me, but I ran on, determined to prove myself, following the rapidly retreating rustle in the bushes up ahead. I leapt over a log and ducked past thorny branches, splashing down into a small creek and up out again.

Through a veil of ferns and I raised my gun. I burst from cover right on the heels of…

“Medina?” I said. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

Medina, a dark-skinned Latino-looking man with the slightest ghost of a goatee beard upon his chin, got up from where he had fallen, and brushed dust of his shoulders.

“Nothing,” he said suspiciously. “Nothing at all, Long.”

He began to turn away but I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. “Don’t be a cock, Medina. 'Nothing' isn’t good enough. You’re supposed to be out fishing on the delta.”

He sagged. “I’m sorry, Long. I was just…well, I was bored, and I thought I’d play a trick on you guys, like, I was going to jump out on you and…” he looked up into my glare. “Okay, I said I was sorry!”

Dearing leapt from the bushes behind me, pointing his gun all around. “Come on, you bastards! I’ll kill you…ah…huh?”

I turned. “It’s okay, Dearing. No dinos.” I was the only person who still called dinosaurs ‘dinosaurs’ and not ‘lizards’. “Just this prat. He was playing a joke on us.” I stared into Medina’s eyes. “Apparently.”

In fact, I didn’t see or hear much of Medina for a very long time after that, and certainly not until the first attack, after which I paid close attention to everyone. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Dearing looked disappointed. “Oh…well…right.” He checked his watch. “We’d better get back on patrol. It’s only quarter past.”

* * * *

“What time is it now?” I said.

“Dude. Shut it.”

* * * *

And now it was evening, and we were preparing to leave.

All day my mind had been burning with anticipation. I had been looking forward to tonight’s hunt for what seemed like a week. Thoughts of Medina were as far from my mind as concerns about the phone bill. I adjusted the strap on my left shoulder, and shrugged the heavy rucksack back into position.

Dearing was cleaning the barrel of his M60 and fixing the bipod into position. “Lock and load, man!” he said, eyes wide, mouth wide open and tongue out in a rock star grin of mock insanity. “Lock and load!”

“Yeah, whatever, Dearing.”

He adopted a serious expression. “Sir, yes sir. Don’t forget to fix your bayonet.”

I looked once again through the scope on my rifle, satisfied, and smeared green camouflage paint on my cheeks. I spun my revolver around an outstretched finger and then slid it smoothly into my hip holster. I checked my rifle strap, tightened my bandana, plopped my helmet on, screwed the bayonet into place, slammed a clip into the gun, turned the catch to ‘safety’ position, tightened the camo cape around my shoulders and looked at Dearing.

“Ready?” I said, not even bothering to conceal the excitement in my voice.

He clapped his hands. “Ready.”

Hannigan leaned into the tent, wearing his trademark cowboy hat. “Ready?”

“Ready,” we said in unison.

“Good.”

 

[knut]

I just remembered this thread and cool story. Reading through the 'Raptors Hunting' part on the fanfic site, but is there anymore? I'm really enjoying this story.

 

[Sulkdodds]

Hehe, yeah there is more, I've actually been re-writing a lot of it from that chapter onwards...but I think it's time to make an update on the site.

And here too come to think of it...

Please review it! Go on, you know it'll make me happy... :naughty:

Continued....

Outside, a few members of Bravo squad were huddled around a camping stove (no fires allowed, because where there’s fire there’s smoke), frying the fish they had caught today. Medina was there, who nodded, and Coles, who wished me good luck, and Clark and Marlow, who just s******ed. We walked slowly out of the circle of firelight and into the deep, dark woods. I kept looking up at the night sky until it was obscured by branches.

Hannigan forged on ahead and gave us some typically curt instructions without even looking back. “Okay, you two. We’re going up to the old lab complex. We’ll get bag two raptors and then evac. Don’t speak unless you have to and be alert. I’ll tell you when we get there.”

The jungle was different at night. Darker, obviously. More claustrophobic. Quieter. And not just quieter, the noises were different. There were less honks and moans from the herbivores in the valley and more shrill cries, roars and bellows of predators on the prowl, providing colour against the droning background of chirping insects. I walked as silently as I could, dimly aware we were moving uphill.

Raptors. I knew about raptors. Blake, Coles and Clark would tell tales about how they had looked the wilderness in the eye and it had blinked. It wasn’t that hard to bring them down, it was just killing them without the rest of the pack getting you, or, when the situation got really bad, before they killed you first, that was hard. Only a direct hit in the head would do it. Even a shot to the chest was uncertain since they had a great thick ribcage. Of course, we weren’t using peashooters.

Fast and smart. That was what everybody said.

The hill got steeper, and steeper until we were almost climbing, and then we hit flat ground again. Somewhere off to our right there was an overgrown dirt track, which Hannigan seemed to be following. Suddenly, moonlight glinted off something metal in the forest in front of us. Unperturbed, Hannigan crept up towards what turned out to be a deep concrete ditch.

On the other side of it, there stood a ten-foot cement barrier, robust metal poles set into it at intervals, supporting a towering fence topped with a roll of barbed wire. The dirt-flecked danger read ‘Warning: 50,000 volts’ but the lights on top of the fence poles were out, some cracked. Vines and creepers were growing on it.

“It’s not live, so just cross the ditch and climb through,” said Hannigan. “First line of defence,” I thought I heard him mutter.

I dropped down into the ditch, feeling hard concrete under my feet, and gave Dearing a leg-up to the other side. With some difficulty he managed to pull himself up onto the barrier, and then he pulled me up, and we both pulled Hannigan up.

Staring across to the other side of the fence, and for the first time standing above the trees, I could see we had climbed up onto the island’s central plateau, isolated from ground level by sheer cliffs on most sides. The location offered a panoramic view of the whole island. In the West, there was still a corona of orange where the sun had dipped behind the horizon over an hour ago. I could see the formations of dinosaurs grazing in the valley, and the high crags that surrounded the island, and something I hadn’t expected - a village.

No more than a mile away, a long, low, rusting skeleton of what had been a building squatted between the trees. Nearby there were some houses, a forest of corrugated iron roofs above the canopy, and what looked like the spine of some gigantic creature but what I knew was the power plant. Behind this there was a lake, filled by a short waterfall from the cliffs above. What surprised me were the watchtowers, dotted along the perimeter, a hundred metres or so from the fence.

“What’s that?” I asked Hannigan, pointing to the village.

He revealed a pair of wire cutters from inside his jacket began to scissor his way through the chicken wire stretched between the main cables, themselves thicker than my arm. “Laboratory, I think. When InGen were here they had a huge production facility to create dinosaurs. Just there you can see the village, where the workers lived. But they abandoned this place. Now there is only chaos here.”

He finished, and stood up. “Ready to tame the wilderness, boys?”

We nodded. Hannigan climbed through the fence and dropped the fifteen feet to the forest floor on the other side. Dearing followed, and after one last look around the island, so did I.

We were back in darkness, but the jungle was sparser here. I could actually see the base of one of the watchtowers somewhere out there. Soon enough we came to what looked like an animal track, but by the way Hannigan looked at it I could tell it was a game trail. He smiled.

“This trail leads towards the research centre. Dearing, I want you to set up by that tree. I’ll be further along the trail. Long, you keep lookout, over there. When you see them raise your hand and I’ll see you. Move.”

He began to unpack a hunk of meat from his rucksack. From the moment the rotten stench of it met my nostrils I began to have a bad feeling about the operation. Still, I crept into the undergrowth and flattened myself against a tree. I had a good chance of seeing any raptors before they saw me.

We didn’t have long to wait. A loud gibber rang out somewhere nearby, and then there was silence. Very soon, I could hear quiet snarling, regular and deep. And then I saw them.

They stalked between the tree trunks glowing ghostly white under the moon. There were a dozen of them at least, spread out along the trail but scarily orderly. A few stopped every now and then to sniff the air, or scrabble at the ground. The lead animal passed not ten metres away from me and I thought we had been found. Amazingly, the raptors continued straight to the bait. I waved my hand frantically, and the heard Hannigan’s voice in my ear.

“Wait until one breaks off, point to it, and follow it,” he said. Then he was gone.

The raptor leader looked quizzically at the meat, looking around, obviously suspicious. It stepped back.

It’s not going to take it, I thought. The thing bent down and sniffed the bait, then straightened up. It walked slowly around in a circle, and then crouched down, stood up again, and waved its arms. It bobbed its head a few times. Suddenly, the rest of the pack pounced upon the meat.

In the ensuing squabble several animals were expelled to the edges of the group and began to wonder off into the jungle on their own. Good plan, I thought. Distract the rest of the pack and wait till an isolated target of opportunity presents itself.

I glanced over and saw Hannigan concealed between two tree roots. His camouflage was immaculate. He nodded. I pointed at the lone raptor.

Slowly, ever so slowly, we inched our way around the snarling pack, keeping our distance, just in time to see the raptor disappear through the trees. It looked like it was heading for the village. Watching every step, I approached. Dearing emerged in front of me from the shadow of a tree.

“Han’s going round the right,” he whispered. “We’ll follow behind it.”

I nodded and we continued forward, staying as low as we could, only sometimes spotting the animal up ahead as it walked through the thicket. Soon enough we came to a large concrete wall, crested by barbed wire. But our eyes were drawn more to the gaping hole that had been torn in the surface of the barrier.

The raptor tracks led through the ancient hole, made by some enormous beast, we imagined. We stopped there, for a second, as the enormity of what had happened here sunk in. Then we continued through, into the village.

I caught a glimpse of the raptor far ahead, moving into the shadow of the village, behind the skeletal spine of the geothermal plant. Silently, me and Dearing jogged through the geothermal array, the wrecked pipes throwing shadows down on us, and crouched low behind a burnt-out jeep, mired in the undergrowth. From here we could see the whole street, the research facility sprawled behind a low iron fence at the end. The raptor glided past a collapsed house and then stopped. It hissed.

From its left, two other raptors emerged from the darkness cast by an overturned truck. They let out a low snarl, and took up positions on either side of our quarry. Together, they darted up the grand stairway into the lab, and through the glassless double doors into shadow.

“Shit,” Dearing whispered. “We’ll have to go and get them.”

I was just about to reply when a mound of leaves on the other side of the street stood up, and turned out to be Hannigan. I hadn’t even seen him. He motioned for us to come to him, and kneeled below a fallen telephone pylon. We raced over to him and crouched low at his side.

“Okay, we’re going into the lab. There’s three of them in there so keep your wits about you and we’ll do just fine.”

I glanced at the building and whispered. “You aren’t serious, right? They could be waiting to ambush us! It’s too confined in there!”

“We’re going in, Long. Follow my lead.”

 

[knut]

Just read Restlessness on the Fanfic site. Good work.

 

[Sulkdodds]

Thanks.


V: Raptors Hunting
Day 45
2230 hours


Moonlight cast a long shadow in front of me as I stepped through the broken glass into the facility. Immediately I swept my gun to the left, staring into the shadows, and then to the right. Clear. I beckoned Dearing and Hannigan in and they stepped carefully through after me.

The door opened on a curved corridor, forking off to both sides. In front of us there was a reception desk and a few rotting sofas. The legend ‘InGen – Building a better future’, in blue 3-d letters suspended on metal supports, was obscured by vines, blocking out the painted frieze depicting dinosaurs in their natural environment. Ancient dust stirred in the air, caught in slanting beams of moonlight. Everywhere, there was this strange sense of…not death, or sadness, but…loss, perhaps.

On the wall there were signs, with arrows pointing left for ‘embryo production’ and ‘engineering’, and right for ‘administration + control’ and ‘helipad’.

“Which way?” I mouthed. Hannigan just nodded towards the birdlike footprints in the dust, leading away to the left of us. I nodded.

As we followed them, taking care to move carefully and check every corner, I studied the prints. Two long toe-marks and one short, with a dot for where the claw scraped the dust of years. There was an aroma of rotting meat in the air. But I had heard somewhere all predatory animals smelled like that. There were vines growing all along the walls and some of the fire extinguishers were missing. A water cooler lay broken on the floor and further along the corridor something had smashed a hole in a vending machine and scoffed the snacks within. We walked past it and came to a sliding door marked ‘embryo production’. It was open.

It was, in fact, a clean room. Clear plastic suits were hanging from hooks and lockers were open or lying on the floor. There were some yellow safety signs but I paid them no heed, proceeding straight to the heavy secondary door. It had been breached, and was flat on the floor. Beyond lay the embryo room.

It was large and airy, the glass roof (with no glass) casting shadows down onto moonlit concrete floor. Gel tanks lined the walls, some cracked and empty and others still full of sickly green liquid. Some of them had…things in them. Baby dinosaurs, maybe. I didn’t want to know. In the middle of the room there was a conveyor belt with robotic arms dotted along its length. Above us there were some metal walkways with equipment hanging down and control panels affixed to the railings. Hannigan touched my arm and pointed to the glass doors which led to the engineering room. He motioned for Dearing to take point and I took up my position at the rear, watching out behind me.

As we walked underneath one of the walkways there was a loud clanking sound from above. In a flash I levelled my gun at the walkway above, but it was nothing. I relaxed and calmed myself. There was another clank, and a slight whooshing sound. I span around. Did I see a dark shape for an instant, crouched among the machinery above us? No, I didn’t. I was imagining things.

The engineering room was protected by another set of security doors, which were, again, open. The room itself was dominated by three huge grey towers in the centre. Like everything else in the building they had vines and plants growing on them. They stood in their own little pit, which housed a tangle of wires and thick cables snaked around the feet of the towers. There were computer workstations on white desks arranged around them.

I guessed they were supercomputers, and my shot in the dark was confirmed when I noticed the writing on the side: ‘Cray 209 XMP’. Hannigan whistled. He started to look around the room, lifting printouts and studying the machines all around the room, poking and prodding at the rolls of ribbed piping and microscopes. He seemed interested.

“Hannigan!” I whispered. “What are you doing?”

He turned to look at me. “Look at all this junk,” he intoned. “Relics.”

“Yeah, very nice,” I hissed. “But the footprints stop here. And I can hear them, Han.”

Dearing and Hannigan froze, then stared at me. There was a continuous low snarling, and then a hiss. I heard a slightly louder growl, and looked up into the roof to see a dark shape that was definitely not my imagination flit between the rafters.

Hannigan made frantic hand signals for me to go up and investigate. I beckoned Dearing towards me and mouthed for him to cover me as I climbed a ladder up to an overhanging walkway.

My hand slipped on the rung and I stopped, then carried on and finally pulled myself up onto the metal grating. Unslinging my rifle, I glanced around and saw the whole facility was linked on the second floor. Had the raptors been tracking us? They certainly weren’t here.

The metal framework of what had been the glass roof was only a metre above me, tropical mist sliding past. I whirled around to check behind me, turned back. Hannigan and Dearing were back to back and revolving slowly to cover every part of the room.

The snarling started again. It was coming from somewhere ahead of me. There was the creak of a swinging door and a series of loud clanks and taps. I raised my gun, very slowly.

“Didn’t I tell you,” I said slowly, more to myself than anyone else, “this was not a good idea?”

The clanks were coming towards me, in a stop-start fashion, no rhythm to them. There was a series of taps and then an answering clatter from somewhere else, below me and to my right.

Oh God, I thought. They’re communicating.

 

[Marx! II]

Jurassic Park = Awesome.
Good for you, writing one.
And well written too.

 

[Sulkdodds]

The Morse code style tapping continued for thirty seconds or so, and then the clanking resumed. Footsteps, coming towards me. I stepped backwards and planted the ball of my right foot on the cold metal. Showtime.

Clank, clank, clank. The raptor rounded the corner ahead of me and looked straight at me, clicking its long toe claws. It opened its mouth and snarled.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, I shrugged, pulled the trigger and held it down. The silence was broken by the tremendous bang. A flash of light. A single shell casing fell to the floor, metres below.

With a start I realised the gun had been set to single shot mode, and I had only fired one bullet. Panicking, I began to fiddle with the fire selection switch, then looked up at the raptor. It had a single bullet hole in its chest, bleeding profusely, but it seemed unperturbed. It charged.

It hadn’t gotten three paces before I heard the satisfying metallic click from my rifle as I pressed the switch into the ‘auto’ position. I pulled the trigger once again. The gun bucked in my hands as I fired. The raptor, still barrelling towards me, was met by a storm of lead coming the other way. It jerked a few times, still closing, and then tripped and slammed to the floor. I heard Hannigan shout. There was a screech and I turned my head, but it was too late. The raptor above me dropped onto the walkway with a heavy crash. A section of the walkway shuddered and tore from the wall. It tipped.

I leapt onto the next section as it came crashing down with the raptor on top of it. Below, it sprawled on the floor and waved its legs in the air. Hannigan and Dearing opened fire on the struggling beast. Through the dome of the roof I could see at least ten raptors outside, ghostly pale, crowing and calling to each other.

“Han!” I said. “We’ve got company!”

He looked up. “Run!” he shouted. “We’ll meet you out back!”

A moment later they were gone and two raptors burst into the room. One chased after Hannigan and the other looked up at me, and leapt twelve foot straight up in the air. It was almost high enough, but not quite.

I spun and legged it. Behind me I heard a crash as it cleared the railings and landed on the walkway. I tried to fire blindly behind me but realised I had no ammo and dived round a corner onto another walkway. As I began to reload, there was a scuffling below me and suddenly something punched a dent in the floor from below. Through the grating I caught a glimpse of a raptor head. I cocked the rifle and fired down through the grate. I heard them yowl with pain and I stepped back several paces.

The one that had been chasing me sped round a corner. Incredibly, its foot hit the empty clip I had discarded. It slipped and bowled over the railings to the floor below. The gun jittered as I unloaded into the floor, whipping up sparks and metallic pings. The raptors screamed.

And the walkway tore loose from the wall.

For a second I tried to keep my balance as one end of it swung down. Then I was jerked off my feet. I yelled, sliding down. I managed to loop my arm around a railing. Inches from my boots a raptor gnashed its teeth, thrashed wildly, and tried to claw its way up towards me. I pulled my legs up just in time as it bit down where my feet had been. The other end of the walkway started to give.

Quickly I pulled myself to my feet, balancing precariously on the juddering slope. I looked around me for an escape route, but there wasn’t one. The raptor started to climb up the walkway, using its long claws to anchor itself. It snapped at my legs. I looked up.

And saw…sky. And rafters. Then the walkway collapsed.

From a standing jump I grabbed hold of a metal girder in the roof. With a final thud the entire walkway crashed to the ground, the machines affixed to it exploding in a shower of metal as they were smashed to pieces. The raptor roared. It fell to the ground, then rolled onto its feet.

I ignored its primal screams and concentrated on pulling myself up onto the girder. With great effort I managed to swing my legs onto it and shakily stand up. I walked slowly along the top of the girder, trying to keep my balance.

At the back of the facility a door blew open. Hannigan and Dearing fell backwards out of it ands tumbled to their feet. Dearing looked up and saw me. He waved and shouted at me but I couldn’t tell what he was saying.

“What?” I screamed.

“Come on! Get down here!”

Then his face fell, and I looked behind me.

Six raptors, each one bobbing up and down slightly, watched me. They were perched on the struts of the roof, like me. I began to walk backwards, very slowly, and they began to stalk forwards. Very slowly.

Looking behind me, I saw that I was right above the lake. If I could get to the edge of the roof, I could jump off. Could they swim?

I found out early. Tripping over my own feet I keeled over sideways and fell screaming into the water. Blackness embraced me. I thrashed away and upwards, and thrust my head above the water. The six raptors were still standing on the roof, watching in a curious sort of way.

I began to swim away from them towards the nearest shore. Dearing and Hannigan were standing on the opposite beach, next to a concrete stairway leading underground. Dearing jumped up and down and shouted and whooped.

“Can you swim, you ****er? Haha! No you ****ing-“

Even as I twisted my neck to look behind me I heard each raptor, one by one, jump and plop into the lake.

“Swim!” shouted Hannigan. “Swim, you stupid bastard!”