TWENTY THREE

Alan’s back was pressed against the bank of steel vaults, and his face vividly expressed the fright he had experienced at their most recent discovery plus a trace of embarrassment at his reaction to it.

"Damn near wet my pants!" he exclaimed with a shaky laugh as he shifted his gaze from the corpse to Ellie. "That was just about the last thing I expected to see in there!"

Ellie had also taken a quick step backward on reflex, but was stopped by the examining table behind her. Her hands gripped the cold edge of the steel table as she stared at the lifeless remains of what had once been a living, breathing human being, a man who had likely been employed at the facility. Tearing her eyes away from the body on the slab, she and Alan stared at one another with an equal amount of shock and bewilderment.

"Yeah, me too," she agreed, breathlessly.

As they recovered from their initial surprise, they both moved forward again, one on either side of the slab, and observed the body with interest. Already, questions were beginning to run through their minds, questions they knew might never be answered.

The clothing had been removed from the corpse along with any identification he might have been carrying, but his colleagues had covered him with the sheet that Alan had unwittingly removed. Unlike the carcasses of the dinosaurs, attempts had clearly been made to at least partially embalm the body of the human with a chemical kept on site. There had been some deterioration, but it was in relatively good condition with the skin and much of the muscle tissue still in place. Dark brown hair still clung to the man’s scalp, arms, chest, and abdomen. The lips were drawn back from the open mouth, giving the impression that he been caught in an eternal scream of unspeakable pain and terror.

Having recently experienced the crushing loss of loved ones, Ellie could not help but speculate about the man’s personal life: Did he have a wife and children somewhere who continued to await his return? Did his parents wonder at their son’s continued absence? Or did they somehow sense that his life had been taken from them? Unable to look away from his heartrending face, she shared their sorrow and their grief as tears crowded behind her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to force them back.

"He’s been here a long time," she heard herself say in a voice that was choked with emotion. She was stating what she knew was the obvious, but spoken for lack of anything else to say at that particular moment. Softly, she cleared her throat to ease the painful knot in her throat. "I wonder who he was, and why he was placed in one of these vaults instead of just sending him back to his family. All these years," she added, sadly. "They must be wondering what happened to him."

Absorbed by his own thoughts, questions, and observations, Alan had not been listening to Ellie’s comments, nor was he thinking about the man’s identity or family. He did not notice the emotion in her voice as she spoke, and seemed unaware that she had spoken at all.

When he made no comment, Ellie pulled her eyes away from the disturbing countenance of the corpse and looked into Alan’s face. His fascinated expression was not surprising, for she had seen it before each time they had unearthed a major find in the field; new discoveries always carried him to a different level of observation. His eyes were traveling up and down the body, taking in every detail and easily interpreting the evidence left behind which pointed to the manner in which he had died.

"Look at this," he said at last, indicating the man’s torso.

Ellie did not really want to look, but her eyes obeyed Alan’s request.

His finger was poised above several long ragged tears in the dried skin of the man’s torso, starting at the collar bone and continuing down past his naval where the belt of his trousers had obviously stopped it. The slashes were deep, peeling back the skin and the body hair so that it exposed the bones of the ribs and sternum, and penetrating deep into the soft tissue of his abdomen.

"He was attacked," she said, observing the gashes with revulsion on her face. She looked up at Alan again, and although she already knew the answer to her question, she asked it anyway. "Raptor?"

"Raptor," he confirmed. "Look at the pattern." Using his forefinger as a pointer, his hand moved descriptively over the body to indicate areas of interest without actually touching it, his scientific mind unwilling to disturb a major find without the proper equipment. He would save that task for a licensed medical examiner, even though the cause of death was obvious. "Three claws, one larger claw that ripped deeper into the flesh than the other two. In the abdomen, the gash goes at least four inches deep. Even if there had been emergency services here, there was probably no way he could be saved. He almost certainly died quickly of massive bleeding and from damaged internal organs."

Ellie was unable to suppress a shudder, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the eeriness of the facility combined with the knowledge of the violent manner in which the victim had passed away. Nervously, she glanced at the open doorway behind Alan, half expecting to see a velociraptor standing there, and was relieved to see that it was empty. "Such a horrible way to die," she mused, softly. Unable to get the thoughts of his family out of her mind, she added, "It would have driven me insane if I had never known what had happened to Mark and the kids. The endless waiting and wondering must be horrible. Why didn’t they just return him to his family, instead of keeping him here?"

He looked up, his eyes meeting hers from across the width of the cold steel slab on which the body lay. "That is a good question." His eyes traveled the length of the body again, and Ellie could almost see the scientific mind behind them, always working, always thinking, and always trying to find the answer to a riddle. Then he noticed: "The body has been washed. See?" He pointed again to the ragged tears on the torso. "There would be a great deal of dried blood caked on his skin and in all this body hair, so it may be that they were preparing him for transport, but something stopped them."

"The hurricane?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Could be. Sounds as logical as anything else I can come up with at the moment."

Stooping, he retrieved the sheet that he had dropped during his leap backward when he had initially discovered the body. He shook loose the dust it had picked up from the floor, and covered the remains with it again. He then pushed the drawer back into the vault and closed the door.

"We’ll have to report this to Hammond."

With the vault closed and the body hidden from view, Ellie began to relax. She fell silent for several moments, gazing at the closed vault as the image of the smiling, white haired Scotsman came into her mind. "Do you think there’s a chance he already knew about it?" she asked, soberly.

Alan shook his head slowly. "Possibly, but something about that old man makes me want to give him the benefit of doubt."

"Yeah, me too. I still don’t understand why this area was hidden by the tapestry," Ellie said, her eyes exploring the room again, sweeping over the items she had already noticed, and stopping briefly on those she hadn’t, before continuing on. "I just don’t see anything in this room that justifies the need for the secrecy. It was already protected with the card slot. Why go to the trouble of covering up the door?" She paused briefly, pondering the mystery, then added, "It was like they were trying to prevent others from knowing of its existence. But the workers must have known about it. I mean, MacFarland was obviously a high-profile scientist here, judging by the work he was doing. He couldn’t have just disappeared inside this room for nine or ten hours a day, or more, without people wondering where he was!"

Alan shook his head again; he didn’t have a clue. "Well, there must have been a reason for it. Hopefully, we’ll find the answers somewhere in one of those file cabinets. If not, we’ll ask Hammond for an explanation."

Leaving the vaults, he moved toward the file cabinet and grasped the handle of the top drawer in an attempt to pull it open. It was locked. He yanked on it a couple of times, making a great deal of noise as the drawer clattered against the lock, but it did not yield. Turning, he found that Ellie was smiling at his forceful attempt to get inside. He shrugged, conceding the uselessness of the gesture.

"I’ve been through a lot of file cabinets in this building, and this is the first locked drawer I’ve encountered. See if there’s a key inside that desk," he suggested, reaching for the next drawer down. It was also locked. He did not bother trying the two lowest drawers, assuming that they, also, would be locked.

Ellie sat down in the dusty swivel chair and opened the desk drawers one by one, searching through the contents, but failed to produce a key. One drawer, the center one, was locked, and therefore inaccessible. She looked up and shook her head. "No key. It’s probably on the same chain with the key that opens this desk drawer, and I’d be willing to bet that MacFarland took them with him when he left."

"Yeah, probably," he agreed.

Not to be deterred by that detail, Alan shoved his hand in the front pocket of his jeans and withdrew his pocket knife. He opened the blade, and inserted the tip in the keyhole, and carefully worked it, but the blade was too thick to properly penetrate the narrow slit, and the lock refused to budge.

He folded the knife and returned it to his pocket, then looked around the room for something else that he could use. His eyes came to rest on a scalpel which lay on the table beside the infant raptor. He picked it up, but its rounded tip was not suitable for picking a lock. He dropped it back on the table.

Turning slowly, his eyes searched the room, seeking out a suitable tool. Finally, he spotted the scalpel rack which stood on one of the shelves, each blade carefully arranged according to size and shape. Moving to the shelf, he examined the scalpels that were standing on end in the rack, points up to exhibit their varying sizes and shapes. Some displayed rounded tips, while others had pointed tips. All of them possessed a razor sharp edge. Alan moved his hand slowly along the row of blades, touching each one, turning some of them on their base for closer inspection, before he finally settled on a slender blade with a tiny, curving point, perfect for his needs. He snatched it from the rack, scrutinizing the blade and its sharp point.

"This ought to do the trick," he said, returning to the cabinet.

He inserted the point into the lock, and carefully worked the tip inside it. For several moments, nothing happened. The lock, unused for many years, was stiff and refused to budge. He shifted the point’s position slightly and applied more pressure. This time, he felt it "give" slightly a moment before the blade tip snapped off in the lock, effectively halting any further attempts to probe the security device.

Frustrated, he slammed the heel of his hand against the front of the file cabinet with a bang that echoed through the room. "Damn it!" he swore, resisting the urge to slip his stinging hand between his knees until the pain eased. Turning toward Ellie, their eyes met, and he acknowledged his discomfort by opening and closing his hand several times.

She had been watching with an amused smile, silently teasing him that his temper had served no purpose except to leave him with a throbbing hand.

"Don’t say it," he told her.

Her smile broadened. "I wasn’t going to say anything."

"No, but you were thinking it!"

Alan was not a man who easily conceded to defeat. Difficulties only seemed to increase his determination, and at that moment, he was determined that he was going to get inside that drawer. Tossing the now useless scalpel onto one of the tables, he strode from the room and crossed the hall to the incinerator room. His eyes traveled around the room, searching for a crowbar or some other effective tool with which to break into the file cabinet. His gaze paused briefly on the chainsaw, then dismissed it as excessively impractical, even if there had been power to run it. Finally, his eyes came to rest on an ax. Snatching it from its hook, he hefted it for weight. It was smaller than a lumberman’s ax, only slightly larger than a tomahawk. Obviously, its use was similar to that of the chainsaw, to reduce the animals to manageable size before placing them inside the incinerator. Satisfied with his find, he carried it back to the autopsy room, examining the edge with his thumb.

Ellie rose from the chair, startled by the sight of the ax. "Alan . . . "

"It’s all right. I’m not going to hack it open. I just need something strong enough to apply some leverage."

Sliding the sharp edge of the ax into the narrow slit between the drawer and the frame near the lock, he applied his weight to it, and the drawer snapped open, its frame bent. Laying the ax on top of the cabinet, he pulled the drawer fully open, and looked inside.

Large three ring binders, all of them neatly labeled on the spine with various headings, were filed on their edge so that the spine could be read without removing them. Eagerly, he scanned the labels. The first one read Ankylosaurus. He withdrew it and opened it up. It was similar to the one that was lying open on the table top beside the infant raptor, except that its pages had been protected inside the drawer, and were still crisp and white.

Watching from the swivel chair as he read the contents, Ellie asked, "What are they?"

"They’re the life records of the species," he announced. He turned several pages. "One species per book, with the individual animals identified by assigned numbers. He’s included dietary requirements, illnesses, and the autopsy reports on those that didn’t survive. Fascinating."

"But would you consider it classified?" Ellie asked. "Worth the expense of a secret room, in which only select people could gain access?

He shrugged. "If I didn’t want it to fall into the hands of competitors, yes. Remember, they had a mole inside Jurassic Park. Could be they wanted to avoid something like that happening here."

Closing the binder, he returned it to its place in the drawer. His eyes scanned each label. They were filed in alphabetical order. Some species filled several binders, and he withdrew one of them to find out why it warranted the additional binders. It was a less successful species with a high rate of infant and juvenile deaths. Returning the folder to its place, he closed the top drawer and opened the second one. Like the top drawer, it was filled with neatly arranged binders.

"There are a number of species here with which they had no success at all." He withdrew one of the files that bore a name not on the InGen list. "Gresslyosaurus. They never managed to keep a single one alive longer than a couple of days. They gave up after a half dozen clutches. Tests on the remains were inconclusive." As he returned the binder to the drawer, he glanced at Ellie, who was busily rummaging around in the desk drawers. "Anything of interest in the desk?"

"Not much in these unlocked drawers," she announced. She withdrew a box of unused file folders, an opened package of what had once been chocolate chip cookies, some unopened candy bars, and a couple of miniature pecan pies, still in their original wrapping. She looked up and smiled. "I think the good Doctor had a sweet tooth!" Turning her attention back to the contents of the drawer, she continued, "There are also some InGen letterhead forms, paper clips, rolls of tape; just your basic office supplies. If there is anything important in this desk, it’s probably in this locked drawer."

"I can fix that," Alan said. Taking up the ax again, he approached the desk. Prudently, Ellie pushed the chair farther away to give him ample room. Using the same method to open the drawer that he had used on the file cabinet, he popped the drawer open. Because the drawer was made of wood, the frame splintered, leaving a gaping hole in the front of the drawer where it had been held fast by the lock. "There you go."

Ellie smiled. "You’re just leaving a trail of destruction, aren’t you? First the door knob, then the file cabinet, and now the desk. Good thing you don’t have to pay for all this!"

"They should have known better than to try to keep me out of them!" he replied with humor.

While he returned to the file cabinet, Ellie rolled the chair close to the desk again, and pulled open the center drawer. With an amused laugh, she held up a key ring. "I’ll bet these open that file cabinet!"

He smiled in response. "I guess we should have opened the desk drawer first."

Inside the middle drawer were the usual office supplies, such as pens and pencils, erasers and rubber bands. Also included were calculating devices, such as slide rules, and boxes of microscope slides.

"More office and lab supplies," she announced. "I guess the keys were the reason he had the desk locked. Oops, I see something that might be of interest."

Farther back, behind the pencil tray, was a metal box, but when she attempted to pull it out, she discovered that it was wedged in place. Leaning over to better see inside the drawer, she tried to work it free.

"What is it?" Alan asked.

"A box. Can’t tell what’s in it though, until I get it out, and it’s wedged in here pretty good."

While Ellie struggled with the box, Alan returned to the files. Closing the second drawer, he opened the third one. Inside was more of the same type of binders. Like the others, all of them were matching in color and design, and all the labels were typed and carefully applied, so that they were all straight and even. Although he never would take the time for such precision, he could not help but feel impressed with MacFarland’s fastidious labeling system. He closed the third drawer, and his eyes came to rest on the last one.

Briefly, he considered skipping the bottom drawer, certain that it probably contained more of the binders, but in the end, decided that he might as well have a look to be sure. Squatting down, he pulled the drawer open. Instead of the expected binders, he found file folders, all neatly labeled with identifying headings on the tabs. He thumbed through them.

"This is interesting," he announced.

Ellie looked up. "What is it?"

"Most of them appear to be alphabetized files on individual species, but the funny thing is, they seem to be only the carnivorous species."

His eyes immediately fell on one particular file, and he withdrew it from the cabinet for closer examination. The label had clearly been affixed over a previous label, and he tipped it slightly in the poor light, hoping to read through the top one, but he had difficulty seeing the faint lettering underneath. Carefully, he attempted to peel back the edge of the top label, but it began to rip, so he abandoned the effort.

"Ellie, did you happen to bring your glasses with you?" he asked.

"No, they’re still over at the dorm. Why?"

"The label on this file has been placed over another one, and I want to see what’s under it."

"Will a magnifying glass help?" she asked, producing one from the middle drawer of the desk and holding it up for him to see.

He looked up, surprised. "Yes!" He stood up and reached for the magnifier. Moving closer to the window to obtain better light, he carefully scrutinized the words on the tab. Several letters were obscured by the letters on the label that had been placed over it, but he easily began to make out the rest of the print.

Ellie was watching with interest, observing his pensive expression. "Can you tell what it says?" she asked.

"Yes. Unidentified Species." He passed the glass back to her as he returned to the file cabinet. "Obviously, they weren’t sure what they had at first."

"What’s the label on the top?" she asked, curiously.

"Spinosaurus."

She felt her heart jump slightly at the mention of the terrifying animal that had nearly killed them several weeks earlier. "If they didn’t know what they had, that might explain why the Spino was omitted from InGen’s list," she suggested.

He held up the file and its identifying label for evidence. "Obviously they did know, at least later on."

Lowering the file again, he opened it up. The documents inside were held securely in place by two inch prong fasteners at the top. He quickly scanned the first few pages.

"These are detailed handwritten accounts of the species, a chronology from the fertilization of the eggs to hatching." He paused to scan the documentation, then he looked up at Ellie again. "This isn’t official documentation. These are MacFarland’s own personal observations and concerns."

He closed the file and placed it on top of the file cabinet, then squatted down beside the open drawer again to thumb through the tabs of the other files inside it.

"There are a lot of interesting files in here," he said, withdrawing a couple more. "We’re going to have to take a closer look at all of them, but we’ll start with these." He started to stand up again, but then caught sight of something else.

At the rear of the bottom drawer in the cabinet, filed behind the species folders, was a simple spiral notebook, but the fact that it was different than everything else in the cabinet seemed to beg for attention. Curiously, he extracted it from the cabinet for closer scrutiny. The front of the file was stamped in large red letters: PERSONAL and CONFIDENTIAL – Do not remove from this room.

He opened it up to the first page. It was narrow ruled and hand-written in blue ink with a surprisingly easy to read script. MacFarland was obvious as much of a perfectionist about his handwriting as he was about his records. His eyes scanned the first page, and he drew in a sharp breath as he rose slowly to his feet.

Ellie rose up again from the stubborn box in the desk drawer, recognizing his sudden intake of breath as the signal that he had made a major discovery. "What did you find?"

"It’s a private journal, written by Doctor MacFarland. We’re going to have to read this thing carefully," he said with conviction. "It and the files in this cabinet may be the most important documents in this whole building!"

"Let’s take them back to the dormitory with us," she suggested. "We’ll be able to study them in detail. We can come back later to get other files."

As he gathered up the files he had pulled from the drawer and stacked them on the edge of the desk, his attention was drawn to an overhead cabinet attached to the wall in the corner behind the desk. It was locked with a padlock. "See if one of those keys fit this lock," he said. ‘Anything with a lock on it grabs my attention!"

Ellie fetched the key ring from the drawer again, and tried several of the keys before finding the one that fit. She turned it, and removed the lock.

Alan opened it, and examined the assortment of bottles and vials. Various compounds, including those which had been used to preserve the body, were arranged neatly by the identifying name and lot number.

"This guy was really meticulous about his organizational skills," Alan observed with admiration. "You should see the notebooks in that file cabinet. I’ve never seen such perfectly managed notes and labels."

"Unlike you," Ellie quipped with a smile. "All of your chemicals and compounds are shoved into cabinets in no order whatsoever. And your filing cabinets are a complete wreck!"

He gave her a quick glance, feigning contempt, but she could see the smile that played around the corners of his mouth. "All right, all right. So I’m not the most organized person in the world. I know where everything is, and that’s all that matters."

"Unless you ask one of your students to fetch something for you, and then you get mad because they can’t find it. When we get back, I’m going to have to rearrange things for you again. I bet they’re worse than ever!"

Alan glanced at her, confirmation that he had heard, but did not respond. He had not expected her to want to continue working with him when they got home, but he found the idea tremendously appealing.

He closed the cabinet doors. "I don’t see anything in there of particular interest; just the typical chemicals used in autopsies, preservations and experiments. Certainly nothing sinister."

He turned away from the cabinet, and faced the long, stainless steel tables again, hands on his hips, allowing his eyes to travel over each item on the tables, shelves, and walls. A large, very expensive looking binocular microscope was set up in the corner. Curiously, he crossed the room and looked into the twin eyepieces, even though he knew he would be unable to see the slide it held, for it contained an electric light underneath. He pulled the slide from it, and held it up toward the window, observing the rust colored stain on the glass.

"Looks like a blood smear," he said. "I wonder what he was looking for."

He replaced the slide in the holder, and turned the microscope to examine it closely. It was very heavy and sturdy, and its binocular eyepieces were superior to the monocular eyepiece on his own microscope. After a few moments of inspection, he unplugged it from the wall and carried it back to the desk, where he placed it with the other items they were removing from the room.

"We’ll take this back to the dorm with us," he announced. "I don’t know if it still works, but if it does it’s far more advanced than mine. If Hammond lets you buy the tapestry, maybe he’ll agree to sell me this."

"Top of the line," she agreed, recognizing the top-quality merchandise that John Hammond always provided his workers. "It’s just going to ruin, here. It would be a shame to let that happen, if you can get some use out of it."

"I don’t see anything else of immediate importance," Alan said, completing his visual sweep of the room. Noticing that Ellie was still seated at the desk and was bent over the open middle drawer of the desk, rummaging around at the back of it, he asked, "What did you say you found in there?"

"There’s some kind of box wedged in here at the very back," she said, tugging. "It’s hung up on the frame. I think you upset the position of the drawer when you broke the lock. It’s hanging a little cockeyed."

"Want me to give it a try?" he asked.

"I think I’ve –"

They heard the box break free of whatever was holding it.

"--- got it!"

She withdrew the box from the drawer, and placed it on the desk top. It was not very large, but was surprisingly heavy and scuffed by Ellie’s attempts to remove it from the drawer. Wondering what secrets it contained, she looked at Alan, and was surprised by his expression.

His face expressed a multitude of emotions and suppressed excitement as he gazed at the box, hoping beyond hope that it contained what he was expecting. "You don’t suppose . . . " he began, then his voice trailed off without completing the thought.

He pressed the catch on front of the box, and opened the lid. Nestled in a bed of blue felt was a 10 mm Glock pistol. Beside it was the magazine.

Alan exhaled a long shaky breath. He leaned his hands on the edge of the desk, head bowed and eyes closed, as if offering a silent expression of gratitude to the owner of the weapon for leaving it there to be found. Rising up again, he reached into the box and his fingers closed around the handle of the pistol. Carefully, he lifted it for examination. He was not an expert on firearms, but he could see that this pistol was in excellent condition with no corrosion. The specially designed box in which it had been stored had done its job well of protecting the gun. He inserted the magazine and heard the click as it locked into place.

"Ellie, do you know what this means?" he asked. "I’ll have to test fire it to make sure it works, but if it does, we now have a weapon to protect ourselves! And to think, it’s been here all this time!" He returned the gun to its box, and closed it, allowing his hand to remain on the box lid a moment longer as if to reassure himself that it was real. "We’ll still have to be totally alert," he cautioned. "We can’t get careless. Raptors are so stealthy that they could be on us before we could have a chance to withdraw the gun from the pack."

She nodded her agreement.

Then, he turned his attention back to the objects in the room. "We made a lot of important discoveries today," he said, "but we need to finish documenting the items in this room."

Ellie stood up and swatted the seat of her jeans a couple of times with the palm of her hands to remove the dust she had picked up from the chair.

Alan lifted the camcorder from the table and began shooting various angles of the room while Ellie snapped a few additional photos. When that was complete, Alan began opening the vault drawers, one by one, and took footage of the dinosaur remains inside. He seemed to be avoiding the drawer that contained the human remains. Ellie wondered if he planned to do it last, or if he intended to omit it from their video documentation.

Finally, he lowered the camera as his eyes came to rest on the drawer he had been avoiding. After a moment, he glanced at Ellie without saying anything.

She looked back at him. "What do you think?" she asked.

He sighed, regretfully. "Seems disrespectful, doesn’t it? Still, since we don’t know exactly what the situation was that led to his death or why he was placed in here instead of sending him home, we need to approach it as merely a scientific discovery, and document it along with everything else. We’ll be as respectful as we can, though." He gestured toward the drawer with his camera. "You open the drawer and describe the body and the wounds while I film it."

She grimaced. "Why don’t you open the drawer and describe the body while I film it?" she suggested. "I don’t have as much experience with giving lectures as you do. Remember, I’ve been out of the loop for years."

"All right." He passed the camcorder into her hands, then returned to the drawer and grasped the handle. "Ready?"

She nodded and pressed the record button.

"The date is April 15th," Alan said to the camera. "On this day, concealed in a vault in a secret room that was hidden behind a locked door and covered by a tapestry, Ellie and I discovered the remains of a human male, presumably one of the workers here at the research facility before the evacuation. So far, no documentation has been found regarding this man’s death or his identity." He pulled open the vault door and pulled out the drawer, and then, more carefully than before, he folded back the sheet to the victim’s waist, exposing only the head and torso.

Ellie moved to the side of the slab to get a good view of the damage to the man’s body.

"I estimate the victim’s age at the time of death to be in the mid to late thirties, Caucasian. As you can see," Alan continued, "this individual quite clearly died as the result of an attack by a velociraptor. The pattern of the wounds is consistent with the killing technique of this species, and the depth of the claw penetration indicates that the animal was an adult. Notice the three claw marks, one of them gouging deeper than the others, going at least four inches deep and possibly deeper. I have not probed the wound, preferring to leave that to a licensed medical examiner."

Completing his speech, he gestured for Ellie to turn off the camcorder.

She did as instructed, and lowered the camera.

"We need to get a few snapshots," he said.

She handed him the 35 mm camera, and watched as he snapped several photographs of the man’s face and torso.

"Once we get back to the States, perhaps Hammond will recognize him from these photographs, or perhaps put us in touch with some of the other employees who might," he said. "He’s earned a proper burial under his rightful identity. I also want to make a copy of this particular tape, just in case someone at InGen decides to confiscate it."

"Confiscate it?" she asked, curiously.

He lowered the camera, replaced the sheet, and closed the vault again. "I don’t trust those corporate attorneys," he replied. "They might be of a mind to try to hush this up. Once his family finds out about this, I think it will be a lawsuit waiting to happen."

"Yes, you’re right," she agreed.

Satisfied with the progress they had made, he reached for the camera, intending to return it to her backpack. "Well, I’d say this has been a very productive trip. I’m getting kind of hungry. I didn’t bring my watch with me. Is it getting close to lunchtime?"

Ellie allowed him to take the camera, then turned over her wrist to glance at her watch, and was surprised at how rapidly the day had gone by. "No wonder you’re hungry. It’s almost four o’clock."

"All right. Lets take these things back to the dorm and have supper, and afterward we’ll start going over these files and the journal."

"Sounds good."

Alan placed the camcorder and camera back inside the backpack Ellie still carried, as well as the journal and the stack of file folders. The microscope and the box containing the pistol he carried himself.

Leaving the autopsy room, they made their way back down the short, narrow corridor and pushed back the tapestry that had fallen across the door. Alan closed the door behind them, and allowed the lovely work of art to cover it again. He left the sledgehammer against the wall, for there was no compelling reason to return it to the shed. Then they worked their way through the maze of corridors, until they finally reached the hatchery once again. They trotted up the stairs, and back through the reception area.

Ellie was glad when they finally emerged from the building into the open air outside. The sun had traveled across the sky, and was sinking slowly toward the opposite horizon, proof of the passage of the day while they had been inside the facility.

Alan also noticed the track of the sun, and said, "I just can’t believe the day went by so fast!"

"Time flies when you’re having fun," she quipped.

He looked at her and smiled. "I had no idea that there were still major discoveries to be made inside that building. I’m glad you were there to see them."

"So am I."

He turned to look back inside the open doorway. "Makes me wonder if there are any other secrets in there, waiting to be found. Well, I guess we have enough to keep up busy for a while!"

"That was fascinating, although I could have done without the body in the vault."

"Yeah, me too."

After first looking cautiously about for any signs of predators, they walked down the steps into the yard. When they were well away from the building, Alan, eager to learn of the condition of the pistol, looked around for a target. He did not want to fire randomly into the air or into the forest, because a stray bullet could wound or kill a harmless specimen that happened to be nearby. He wanted to fire at something solid.

"I want to test fire this weapon, just to make sure it works," he told her. "I’d hate to need it, and have it fail on us at an inopportune moment! I just need a target."

She agreed wholeheartedly. "How about one of those vehicles?" she suggested.

There were plenty of damaged vehicles in the yard which would make suitable targets and were large enough that he wouldn’t miss. "Good idea."

Alan led the way to one of the cars, and placed the microscope and the pistol box on the hood of it, and opened the lid to withdraw the pistol from it.

Standing beside the vehicle, Ellie watched as he did this. The backpack she carried was heavy now, loaded down with the cameras, file folders and the journal, so she slipped it off and laid it down on the hood beside the microscope.

Alan scanned the vehicles that littered the yard, and settled on a badly mangled pick-up truck at the other end of the yard. "Cover your ears," he suggested.

Ellie placed her hands over her ears and stood back to watch as Alan extended the pistol at arm’s length from his body, and took aim at the door of the damaged vehicle. The report was loud, echoing throughout the valley and sending flocks of alarmed birds skyward. They heard the loud "clang" of the bullet striking the door, and they saw the hole it made as it ripped through the thin metal, continued through the vehicle and bored through the other door, finally coming to rest in the fender of the next vehicle.

Alan turned to face Ellie with a triumphant expression. "It works!"

He returned the gun to the box, and then, in his excitement that he could at last protect them from harm, he did the unexpected. He flung his arms around Ellie’s waist, scooped her off the ground, and swung her around in a circle.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she laughed delightedly at his boisterous enthusiasm, and he was laughing with her. After making several circles, he returned her feet to the ground. As their laughter died down and their smiles began to fade, they stood for several moments facing one another. Ellie’s arms were still around his neck, and his arms were still around her waist, but neither was in a hurry to alter their position.

Their moods became more serious, and their eyes were locked together in an intensely penetrating gaze, each of them keenly aware of the physical closeness of the other. A lock of Alan’s hair, disturbed by a mild breeze, fell across his eye, and she moved her hand to stroke it back into place.

Her gentle touch was whisper soft against his skin as she brushed his hair back from his forehead, and he searched her eyes, gazing intently into each of them, first one and then the other as he struggled to convey the depth of his feelings for her.

Reaching up, he took her hand in his while his other hand slid down to the small of her back and drew her closer against him. "Ellie," he whispered.

Ellie swallowed hard and she felt her heartbeat quicken in anticipation of the long desired feel of his lips on hers as she waited for him to instigate the kiss by moving his face toward hers. Several moments passed as his eyes continued to linger on hers, but she could not determine if he was hesitating or simply prolonging the moment.

His eyes are so beautiful! she thought, and she began to wonder if perhaps he was thinking back to their conversation following her breakdown, when she had been forced to admit that she had not yet been ready for an intimate relationship, in spite of her urgings to the contrary. Perhaps he was waiting for her to make the first move, to alert him when she was ready to put her past behind her and more forward. A simple kiss did not have to culminate into an immediate intimate involvement. A kiss could be no more than a gesture of the great affection she felt for him and knew that he felt for her. And she was ready to take that first step toward rekindling the relationship they had once had.

The haunting, trumpeting call of a distant Parasaurolophus broke the silence and interrupted the closeness they shared at that moment. Abruptly, he released her and took a step backward, forcibly pulling his eyes away from hers as he broke the physical contact. He turned away from her, dragging his hand through his hair, silently cursing the distinct reminder that they must always be alert when away from the dormitory. Although a relatively peaceful plant-eater, he knew it could just as easily have been something more sinister. They must never again allow their guard to drop as they had just done, to focus so entirely on one another that they completely failed to notice what was around them.

Ellie dropped her arms to her sides and sighed with disappointment as she marveled at the precision timing of the creature that had interrupted them.

Silently, she watched as Alan closed the lid on the box, noticing that his hands were trembling slightly, a fact which inspired a private smile. She was feeling a little weak in the knees herself! The attraction between her and Alan was still there, as vibrant as it had ever been, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they acted on that attraction.

"We’d better get back to the dorm," he said, breaking the silence. "Even with the pistol, we’re vulnerable out here, especially to stealthy species like raptors." He glanced back at the research building, thinking of the body in the vault. "We just saw what they’re capable of."

"All right," she said. Reaching for the backpack, she hoisted it onto her back again and started walking through the trees toward the dormitory.

Alan fell in step behind her, deeply troubled by what had just happened. It was not that he had not wanted to kiss her. He had; desperately. And he knew he would have had they not been disturbed by the wake-up call from the dinosaur. This was neither the time nor the place to lose sight of the dangers that existed every time they stepped outside, and he vowed never to let that happen again.

He had heard her soft sigh, and knew that she was disappointed. He shared her disappointment, and like her, he knew that sooner or later, it would happen. Eventually, they would both be unable to resist the strength of the mutual attraction that was pulling at them.

Unless I take measures to prevent it. The thought crept into his mind with the stealth of a thief, threatening to destroy the relationship they were slowly building. There is an alternative! Once again, he questioned the wisdom of allowing her to remain on the island with him. She was a lovely, enticing distraction that was placing his life and hers in danger. Would it not be better to remove her from that danger?

As they emerged from the trees and into the yard of the dormitory, Ellie stole a glance at Alan’s face, and immediately suspected the nature of the thoughts that were lurking behind his eyes. She felt a twinge of resentment at the notion that he might consider sending her back to the States. I thought we had moved past all that!

They did not speak as they approached the dormitory. Alan withdrew the key from his pocket and inserted it in the lock on the barred door, then held it open for her to enter first. Inside the foyer, Ellie immediately shed the heavy backpack and carried it into the front room, where she set it down on the coffee table to remove the items that were inside it.

Holding the heavy microscope by its neck in one hand and the pistol box in the other, Alan watched from the foyer as she pulled the files from the pack and placed them on the coffee table. For a moment, he considered going to her, taking her into his arms and picking up where they had left off, but he knew it wouldn’t be the same as it would have before the interruption. The romantic moment had been lost. Maybe that’s just as well, he thought.

Turning suddenly, she spotted him in the foyer watching her. They stood silently gazing at one another for several moments, then Alan indicated the items he carried by lifting the microscope a little higher. "I’m going to put these in the office."

"Okay. I’ll start supper then. Just don’t look at those files without me!" she added. Then, avoiding his eyes, she brushed past him, and strode down the hallway to the kitchen.

Alan followed her down the hall, but turned into the office. He placed the microscope on the desk, and opened the drawer that contained the satellite telephone, and positioned the pistol box beside it.

After closing the desk drawer again, he turned his attention to the microscope. He knew that, after all this time, the halogen illuminator would no longer be working, so he opened up the base and removed the bulb. Inside was surprisingly clean, thanks to the sturdy casing. It was the same wattage as that used in his monocular scope, so he removed the bulb from it and inserted it in the illuminator.

Next, he found a clean cloth and cleaned up the exterior of the instrument, wiping away the dust and grime, and cleaning the lenses and the stage. Finally, he plugged it into the outlet and turned it on. The halogen light flickered several times, then illuminated the stage beneath the slide.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, excitedly.

Eagerly, he placed his eyes against the eyepieces and examined the slide that was on the glass. As he had suspected, it was a blood smear, but time and the elements had damaged the value of the specimen, breaking down the cell structure to a degree that it revealed no secrets about the creature from which it had come. He withdrew it from the stage and discarded it, only mildly disappointed. He now had a superior quality tool with which to work, one that far surpassed the less expensive model he had purchased for himself.

Wonderfully delicious smells soon drifted into the office from the kitchen, and he wandered to the doorway and watched silently as she prepared pork chops and fried potatoes with sliced tomatoes and cucumbers on the side. She moved around the kitchen with ease, as comfortable with her household duties as she had been on the dig sites. It seemed to Alan that Ellie would fit in anywhere, in any culture. She was as beautiful and graceful as any high society woman he had ever met, and as resourceful and dependable as any working class woman.

As he pondered the notion of sending her back to the mainland, the remembrances of what it had been like before her arrival entered his mind; the empty, echoing building, the isolation, the intense loneliness worse than anything he had ever experienced. It had not seemed so bad at the time, but now he knew he did not want to ever feel so alone again.

She had told him that she had come to Isla Sorna to save him from impending danger, or perhaps an underlying reason was that she needed him to help cope with her loss; but at that moment, he was thoroughly convinced that he needed her more. He needed her laughter, and he needed her gentle approval of his work and her encouragement during the difficult times that often accompanied his profession. Most of all, he needed her presence, the companionship they had shared. He could not imagine how he had he ever functioned so long without her.

Sensing his presence, Ellie turned toward him, frying pan in hand, and instantly suspected that he had been there for some time. "How long have you been standing there?" she asked.

"Just got here," he lied, stepping into the room. "Anything I can do to help?"

She knew he was being untruthful, and wondered what he had been thinking about. "Yes," she responded to his question. "This is almost done, so why don’t you grab a couple of sodas from the fridge? We’re out of tea bags, and we’re almost out of coffee."

He moved to the refrigerator and opened it, his eyes scanning the cans of various brands of soda. "What’s your choice?"

"Anything’s fine, as long as it’s cold."

He grabbed a couple cans of Root Beer, and set them on the counter top, then took a quick inventory of the few items that remained. "Ellie, I think it’s time to call Miguel."

She did not look up from the skillet as she transferred the contents to two plates, wondering if he would take the opportunity to insist that she return to the mainland. "Okay," she replied, guardedly.

He heard the wary tone to her voice, and smiled to himself behind the open refrigerator door. "Anything in particular you’d like me to request?" he asked. "More tea bags, perhaps?"

She relaxed visibly and turned to face him. He was smiling at her as he pushed the refrigerator door shut. He had no intention of sending her back! "Yes. I’ll make a list," she replied. "When are you going to call?"

"In a day or two. Why don’t we eat on the roof?" he suggested. "Then later, we’ll come back down and tackle the journal and those files."

"Sounds good," she agreed.

"Can you manage the plates?"

"Yep."

Picking up the cans of soda from the countertop, Alan led the way from the kitchen and up the stairs to the roof.

Ellie followed a moment later with two plates and silverware. They sat down across from one another, and began to eat their dinners as they discussed the discoveries they had made in the research facility. They carefully avoided speaking of the moment they had shared in the yard of the research facility and the strong attraction they continued to feel for each other, but it was on their minds. Sooner or later, it would have to be addressed.

 

 

TWENTY FOUR

While they ate their supper, the conversation gradually dwindled until they finally withdrew into their own private thoughts. Alan’s eyes followed the gradual progression of the sun as it sank slowly toward the densely foliated mountains in the distance. As always, he found the wilderness peaks intriguing, wondering what secrets lurked on their rugged green slopes. Were there new species there which preferred the higher altitudes, or were all the animals staying primarily near the large grassy plains? It was a question that would never be answered unless he could somehow reach those isolated locations.

From across the table, Ellie saw the far-off look in his eyes as they surveyed the distant mountains, and wondered what thoughts were prowling behind those opaque blue eyes. On impulse, she shoved her hand into the pocket of her jeans and felt around, not an easy task, since her jeans were starting to tighten as she returned to her normal weight. Failing to find any coins in that pocket, she moved to the other.

Alan noticed that she was searching her pockets, and asked, "What are you looking for?"

"I’m looking for a penny," she replied.

"A penny? What for? There’s nothing on this island to buy!"

"Which is exactly why I haven’t been carrying any change in my pockets, damn it," she replied with a mischievous smile. "Didn’t want to carry around the extra weight."

Alan watched as she stretched out in her chair to reach the deepest area of the pocket, still hoping to find that elusive penny. He was smiling, rather amused by her peculiar behavior. "I’m probably going to regret asking this, but what do you need a penny for?"

"I was going to offer it to you in exchange for your thoughts. I know, I know; corny as hell," she added, thinking he was going to laugh at her for being so silly.

Finished with his meal, he pushed back his plate. He wasn’t laughing, but his eyes twinkled with amusement. "Well, I’m afraid my thoughts are actually worth more than a penny."

Her eyebrows lifted with curiosity, and he nodded toward the mountains behind her. Shifting slightly in her chair, she looked over her shoulder to view them. They were typically spectacular and very green with tropical flora. The wispy, silvery mist that usually hung over them in the mornings had evaporated during the heat of the afternoon.

"Just my mind wandering again," he said with a shrug. "I was wondering if there are any animals up in the higher elevations, or if they remain in the lower altitudes. The vegetation on the mountains appears to be very dense and lush, which would surely attract the plant eaters. However, the large herbivores, like Brachiosaurus and Diplodocus, might not be unable to travel through such heavy foliage. So, I’m wondering if there are any smaller plant-eaters up there, perhaps species that we haven’t seen before."

She turned to look back at him, and recognized that expression of intense longing that was etched into his face. "Does this mean you’ve been thinking about hiking up there now that we have a gun to protect ourselves with?"

He shrugged again and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "I don’t know. I would love to, but that’s a long hike, a lot farther than it actually looks. And I can’t solve the problem of how to carry enough food and water for that length of time, but yeah, I would really like to go and see what’s up there."

"Well, maybe that is something that we could do on another trip," she suggested. "I mean, we could go home and process the information we have on this trip, and then on the next trip purchase some kind of temporary shelter that can be easily erected and then disassembled when we’re done. We could surround it with some kind of . . . " She paused, struggling to explain the thoughts that were crowding her mind. "I don’t know, some kind of warning device, or maybe electrical wire to keep the animals at bay."

"I don’t think any kind of portable generator could produce enough voltage to keep the large predators at bay," he replied. "And the smaller predators, like the raptors, could probably go under it."

She nodded, conceding that it probably wouldn’t work. Alan leaned back in his chair, his knuckles pressed lightly against his lips as he pondered her suggestions, indicating that he hadn’t totally given up on the idea.

"Still, it’s something to think about," he admitted. "We could work out the details later; maybe see if Hammond’s scientists can come up with some method of protecting ourselves." He paused again, then shook his head, slowly. "If we decide to do it," he added. "We may want to leave it for the next team of researchers. It’s bound to happen, you know."

She nodded. "Yeah, you’re right. In time, it probably will. But I think Hammond will be very selective who he allows to come onto this island in an official capacity."

He nodded toward her plate, which she had abandoned during their discussion. "Are you finished?"

"Yeah."

"Let’s get downstairs and look at those files."

They picked up their plates and carried them back down the stairs to the kitchen. The dishes were placed in the sink and quickly washed, then, eager to begin the investigation of the journal and the files, they left them to air dry in the rack on the counter top.

When they returned to the front room, Alan turned on the lamp, and they both sat down on the sofa, side by side, to look at the files and the journal. He spread them out on the coffee table to look them over, mulling over the importance of each. In time, he would need to look at all of them, but some were more pressing than others. He stacked the less essential ones and moved them aside so he could concentrate on the ones he deemed the most important.

"Which do we read first?" Ellie asked.

His decision was made quickly; he picked up the journal. "I’m curious to see if there is anything in here about that body in the vault. At the moment, I think that takes precedence over anything else, and if there is any documentation of it at all, it should be in here."

"If there is mention of it, it will probably be near the back," Ellie said. In her zeal to unlock the secrets on its pages, she reached eagerly for the journal as if to pull it from his hands. He held on to it, possessively, and his mildly reproachful expression reminded her that it was his discovery, so she quickly released it. "Sorry," she grinned. "I’m a bit excited, I guess."

He smiled in response. "Me too. We’ll take turns."

"Anyway, as I was saying, if there is anything in there about the body, it will probably be among the last entries. I can’t imagine that they would keep him in there any longer than necessary if they were continuing their research at the time."

He agreed with her assessment, and flipped to the back of the notebook, turning the pages until he found the entry he was looking for.

"Here it is," he said.

October 5: Gavin Shurley was attacked and killed by a velociraptor today. It was the large raptor in cage number four, and although I would never have believed it possible, it has become apparent that she planned her escape! She feigned serious illness by lying in her cage pretending to be lethargic and refusing food. Because the mortality rate among the animals is so high, immediate action is always taken to care for a sick animal, but proper procedure in this instance was not followed. Our raptor expert, Robert Muldoon, set the rules regarding the care and handling of raptors, but since his death at the Park several months ago, his strict safeguards are consistently being ignored. She should have been darted with the tranquilizer gun, but administration is attempting to cut back on some of the costs, so darts are used sparingly. They insisted that, given her apparent serious illness, only mild sedation and a muzzle should be sufficient. I was not present, but I have been told that the raptor did not resist the muzzling process at all, but merely laid still and watched the gate.

When Shurley opened the cage to admit the vet, she leaped to her feet and charged him, knocking both men to the floor and gouging Shurley from neck to groin with her claws. I could hear his screams from my office, and I rushed to the scene as he lay dying on the floor. The raptor terrorized the employees as she made her way through the hatchery, and then finally crashed through a window before one of the handlers could secure the tranquilizer gun. This was another violation of policy – the handler should have been ready with the tranquilizer gun in hand in the event of just such an occurrence. These are dangerous animals, and it troubles me that safety measures are constantly being ignored.

Tragically, nothing could be done for Shurley. He was dead within minutes of massive hemorrhaging. It is 8:00 as I write this, and we are all still in a state of shock at the events of the day, not just Shurley’s killing, but the implications of intelligence far greater than we ever anticipated from the raptors. The other raptors have become extremely agitated and difficult to handle, and all have been tranquilized. I don’t know if their excitement is due to the escape of their sister, or due to the smell of blood. The large pool of blood left by Shurley’s injuries has been cleaned up, but with their keen sense of smell, I know it must still be detectible.

The handlers and administrators have spent the evening trying to place blame on one another for the escape, and later discussed options on how they might find and capture the escaped raptor. Still muzzled, it will be impossible for her to feed herself, even if she manages to find food.

At this point, no one has contacted Mr. Hammond or the attorneys to advise them of the fatality. Because of the late hour, the administrators have decided to wait until tomorrow.

October 6: This morning, the unpleasant task of cleaning and embalming Gavin Shurley’s body fell to me. With the limited chemicals I have on site, I performed these functions as best I could to prepare him for his journey back to the States for burial. I could do nothing about the gashes on his body, being unskilled at sewing up wounds, so I cleaned them and left them as they are. I am still sickened by what has happened. It could have been avoided if proper procedures had been followed.

This afternoon, a strange thing occurred. When I brought up the subject of contacting Mr. Hammond to advise him of the fatality and the blatant carelessness that led to it, Dr. Blake called an emergency meeting of the staff and insisted quite strenuously that we keep this incident among ourselves. Like most of the rest of us, Shurley has no immediate family, so it was decided by Blake and the administrators that he should be buried here on the island. I voiced my objections to a cover-up during the meeting, but was overruled by the majority. They attempted to make it sound like a noble gesture, something he would have wanted for the good of the facility, but the reality is that Blake and the others fear that another lawsuit would shut us down completely. I dare say they are probably correct. The investors are becoming quite jittery each time an accident occurs, and some have threatened to withdraw their funds. I don’t know how Blake intends to explain the loss of an employee to payroll, but I suspect he will fabricate a story that Shurley resigned. I have placed the body inside one of the vaults until a decision is made on what location he should be buried.

The raptors are still in an uproar over the escape of #4. I would have expected them to have settled down by now, but they haven’t forgotten. They are restless, pacing their enclosures continuously, and lunging at the fences whenever the feeders and handlers get near.

We found the muzzle used on the escaped raptor lying just outside the parking area. She had broken the buckle that held it in place, a testament to the physical strength of these animals.

Blake and Reynolds have reached the conclusion that Shurley should be buried in a nearby clearing, well away from the compound. There will be no marker. It will be as if this man, this loyal colleague, has never existed. I have voiced no more objections to the decision, as I am outnumbered. None of the administrators or high ranking employees are willing to stand with me on this matter, so I am resigned to my silence, at least for the moment.

Late this evening, we started receiving warnings of an impending hurricane expected to reach the islands in the next few days, and have been instructed to secure the facility in preparation. The burial will have to be postponed until after the storm has cleared. I saw the escaped raptor as I made my way across the compound from the dormitory this morning. She has been lurking nearby, and in my mind I imagine that she is either trying to organize an escape of her sisters, or is waiting to attack one of us. I don’t know what food options she has in the jungle, but her interest in us so complete that I know she views us as a food source. The intelligence I see in her eyes chills my blood!

October 7: One of the maintenance workers was attacked and carried off by the escaped raptor this morning. Even though we have taken to traveling to and from the facility in groups for protection, he had gone outside alone to the utility shed. He used the back door, from which the shed is only a short distance, so he apparently felt safe traveling no farther than that. We were alerted by his screams, but by the time any of us got outside, she had dragged him into the jungle. No one was willing to follow the raptor into the brush to recover the body. I will never forget the abrupt silence that followed the attack.

"It was probably his bones that you found in the jungle," Ellie interrupted.

"Yeah, probably so," he agreed. "She probably ambushed him from behind." He then lowered his eyes back to the page and continued to read.

Like the incident with Shurley, this second fatality has been hushed up. Only a few of us who were near the back door at the time are privy to the incident, and no official record has been written up to document the events, save my entries in this journal. The administrators have notified personnel of another resignation that never occurred. It is amazing how lying becomes easier the more it is done.

October 8: This will be my final entry. It seems futile at this point to even put these words on paper, but it has become a source of release for me, a place where I can express my thoughts without rebuttal.

The hurricane is now pounding the nearby islands, and word is that this storm is of such a magnitude that it may level this entire facility. We have been instructed to evacuate, and an airplane is on its way to pick us up. All morning, the other scientists have been gathering up their most important files and storing them in boxes for the trip to the runway, but after much consideration I have made the decision to leave my records here, locked inside this room. I do not want to risk a curious individual (primarily Blake!) snooping in my boxes and discovering the files I’ve been keeping. If the facility is destroyed, then hopefully this research lab will fade into history, as Jurassic Park has done. Either way, our work here is complete. Mr. Hammond instructed that the animals be released to fend for themselves, and we have carried out his wishes. It was strange, watching the dinosaurs as they fled into the jungle. Without the Lysine supplements, it is likely that the animals will die within weeks, but they should enjoy a brief time of freedom beforehand. If the facility still stands after the hurricane passes, we will never be able to round up all the animals, so my prediction is that Mr. Hammond’s dream of resurrecting Jurassic Park will never be realized. It is finished.

He closed the journal. "That was the last entry. He locked up the journal and all his files inside that room, expecting that no one would ever be able to get inside to find them."

"Obviously, he couldn’t have anticipated your determination to get inside!" Ellie said, lightly. She had been reclining against the backrest as Alan read the journal aloud, deeply engrossed by the recitation and his pleasant speaking voice. For several moments, they did not speak, imagining the sight of the animals, freed from their pens, dashing for the jungle and freedom.

"I guess in the rush to release the dinosaurs and box up their possessions that they forgot all about the body in the vault," Alan commented, quietly, breaking the silence that had settled over the room.

"Yeah, that’s pretty sad. I wonder why MacFarland didn’t take his records and turn them over to Hammond?"

Alan shrugged. "I guess he figured it was pointless to bring about a lawsuit when the research facility was going under anyway. He probably felt that the destruction of the facility and the deaths of the animals from Lysine deficiency was probably justice enough."

"Except that the dinosaurs did not die of Lysine deficiency," she pointed out, turning her head against the backrest to look at him.

"Correct. When Sarah Harding was here by herself, prior to the Malcolm expedition, she discovered that the herbivores were seeking out plants that are Lysine rich. I have observed this tendency myself, and I concur with her findings."

"I see, and then the carnivores feed off of the herbivores, passing along the nutrients."

"Correct." He leaned back beside her, laying the journal on his lap. "You know, when I first heard that Harding had come to this island alone, I thought she was the biggest fool to walk the face of the earth. That anyone would come to this island alone was a complete mystery to me. Then, as I thought about it, I realized that the deaths did not start until the rest of the expedition arrived. Alone, moving quietly through the brush, she had a much better chance of survival than a noisy pack of humans. She had the right idea. There were no distractions to take her mind off what she was doing."

He saw her brow pucker, and knew that he had offended her. "Are you saying that I’m a distraction?" she asked in a challenging tone.

A smile flickered on his lips, indicating that he did indeed find her a distraction, albeit a pleasant one. "I’m just saying that we need to remember to stay constantly alert at all times whenever we’re outside this building."

"I know that."

"So do I," he agreed, softly. "It’s just so easy to forget sometimes." He looked away from her, his eyes settling on the open window, where darkness had settled over the island. "And if something had happened to either of us, Sarah or myself that is, no one would have known about it. You were right about that. I never considered it when I decided to come here alone." He heaved a lonely sigh. "I guess I never really thought that anyone would care."

Ellie watched him for a long time, and realized that his distraction of her was not something to take as an insult, but to rejoice in, for it was an unspoken declaration of his interest in her. "I will always care, Alan," she said, softly. "And you’re right about staying focused. I shouldn’t have taken offense, and I’m sorry. We’ll be more careful to watch each other’s backs from now on. I was just . . . I was afraid you’d try to send me back, and I don’t want to go." She reached out and placed her hand on his forearm. He had rolled up his sleeves, and she stroked his skin affectionately. "I want to be here, with you."

He turned his head to look at her again. "As much as I want you to be safe, I don’t want you to leave, either." He lifted his arm, inviting her to come closer. She moved against him, laying her head on his shoulder as his arm wrapped around her. After a few minutes, she felt him chuckle softly beneath her cheek.

"What?" she asked, curiously.

"I was just thinking about Sarah Harding and Ian Malcolm. It is just beyond me to understand what she saw in him!"

She grinned, and slapped his arm, playfully. "Alan! That’s a terrible thing to say!"

"Well, I can’t!" he said in his defense. "I mean, the man is so struck on himself! So arrogant! He thinks he’s always right."

"Like someone else I know," she said, patting his chest affectionately with her hand.

She felt him shift slightly as he looked down at her. "Who?" he asked, curiously.

She laughed, amused that he could be so clueless. "Never mind."

"How can you carry on an intelligent discussion with someone like that?"

"It isn’t easy," she said, knowingly. "But he’s also very handsome –"

"He is?"

"Yes, he is! And he’s very friendly. He likes to talk –"

"About himself, no doubt."

"Not necessarily. I found him to be quite pleasant."

"You did?" he asked, incredulously.

She laughed again at his skepticism. "Yes! I did!"

"I guess he turns on the charm for the ladies. All he did was get on my nerves. Do you know how many ex-wives he has?"

"No, do you?"

"No, but from what he told me, he changes wives like he changes his socks. I guess I’m old fashioned, or something, but marriage should stand for more than that."

She fell silent for several moments. "Yes, it should," she agreed. "It’s a solemn commitment, and should never be taken lightly." They fell silent again for several moments, allowing Ellie’s mind time to drift over the sweet faces of her children, the product of her own marriage. Changing the subject abruptly, she said, "See what other incidents he may have recorded in that journal. He seemed to indicate that there were other accidents."

"Yeah, he did, didn’t he?" He opened the notebook to the front again, and began thumbing through the pages, scanning the entries for other occurrences. "Here’s something. It’s dated about a year and a half before his final entry. He doesn’t seem to be making daily entries, just notating items of interest."

June 13: We had another accident this morning involving a Stegosaurus, a vivid reminder that even the relatively docile plant eaters can become very dangerous when they feel threatened.

As with most species in the animal kingdom, a hierarchy exists among the dinosaurs, with the most dominant animal leading the pack until challenged for supremacy by another. A fight broke out today among the two largest of the juvenile Stegosaurs, resulting in serious injury to one of them. The handlers separated the injured animal from the herd, and tranquilized her so that the vet could treat her wounds. One of the handlers, Juan Murano, approached her too soon after the injection, before the drug had sufficient time to work, and the animal, still enraged by the fight, took a swipe at him with her tail. One of the spikes was driven deep into his thigh, breaking the femur. He was hurled violently against the side of the pen, resulting in additional injuries, though less serious.

The leg was immobilized, and Murano was transported by helicopter back to a hospital on the mainland. We are awaiting news of his condition.

June 15: InGen has been contacted by an attorney representing Murano. Surgery was required to save the leg, but he will walk with a severe limp for the rest of his life. He is demanding compensation. The InGen attorneys intend to fight the claim, stating that it was his irresponsible behavior that resulted in the accident, but I believe they will be forced to pay some form of reparation to him to avoid the publicity.

It is incidents like this one that may be the eventual unfolding of the Park and this facility. In spite of all our safety precautions, incidents still can and do occur. Thankfully, there have been no recent deaths. The last death resulted in several of our investors pulling out of the project, and was a serious financial blow to our research.

Alan paused to turn the page, then said, "From here, he skips eight months before writing again. Apparently, nothing significant happened during that time:

February 15: The amber from the mines in North Africa yielded a particularly interesting DNA. We are certain that the DNA is from a member of the dinosaur population, but at this point, we have been unable to identify the species it represents. This indicates a specimen that is previously unseen in our lab. Dr. Blake has been assigned the new species. He created a clutch of 14 embryos and assigned them to incubators #8 and #9. We enthusiastically anticipate the hatching of these eggs, eager to learn the identity of this new species, for it has been some time since a new species for the park has been found.

February 25: We have candled the eggs for the first time today to check the progress of the embryos. Dr. Henry Wu designed the incubators so that the bed of the incubator itself contains the light which allows us to see through the shell without removing the eggs from their environment. Blood veins are visible, indicating that all eggs are fertile, and the embryos are beginning to develop.

March 24: Candling of the eggs containing the unidentified species have revealed that the embryos inside have expired. I opened the shells and examined embryos carefully in an attempt to decipher the riddle they contain, but unfortunately they were not yet developed well enough to make a determination of the genus. Since we have seen far more embryonic deaths than live births of all the species in our experiments, Dr. Blake is only mildly discouraged by this failure. Fourteen more embryos have been generated by the geneticists, but this time Blake injected the embryos with a growth hormone of his own design to encourage development.

April 10: We lost five Tyrannosaurus hatchlings this morning, and the remaining three eggs did not hatch at all. Autopsies on the infants revealed underdeveloped respiratory systems. As is almost always the case, cause of death can be attributed to something in the animals’ genetic structure that did not develop as it should, be it respiratory, circulatory, or even skeletal. Clearly, the infants are deficient in something, possibly a basic nutrient available in the ancient world that is no longer present. Plant life is very different today than it was then, with many extinct forms of vegetation on which the plant eaters would have fed. The carnivores would have fed on the plant eaters, thereby obtaining nutrients from them. The list of possibilities also include the atmosphere itself, since the air density is also very different in modern times than it was during the Age of Dinosaurs, even without the added threat of pollutants in the air and water sources. I wish I had the opportunity to study a dinosaur from ancient times, to compare its cell structure and genetics with our creations of today. I could then compare the differences, and be able to determine precisely what that deficiency is. Then, we could possibly replicate it synthetically and administer directly to the animals in the form of injections or tablets, but until that occurs, I am afraid we will continue to see a high death rate, and the loss of many more embryos. We are very concerned about the new species and the prospects for their survival."

Here, Ellie interrupted. "You mentioned the air density as well, when I first arrived on the island, but I had no idea that the mortality rate was that high," she commented.

"This is the most detailed account I’ve heard about it," he said. "Many of the records in the front offices indicated that a good many infants did not survive the hatching process. MacFarland’s observations sound like valid ones. What is interesting to me about all this is the fact that there was such a high mortality rate in the controlled environment. All their sterile equipment and growth hormones could not replicate nature in its own environment. Even though the mortality rate remains high in the wild, the animals are doing a better job on their own." He rubbed his eyes, wearily. "Do you want to take over for awhile?"

"Sure," she replied, reaching for the journal.

Alan shifted position, reclining on the sofa so that his legs were draped across Ellie’s lap. He laced his fingers together behind his head on the throw pillow and closed his eyes to listen to her recitation. She propped the journal on his legs and began to read:

April 22: Once again, candling of the unidentified eggs reveals that the embryos have expired. This time, pronounced bacterial growth was detected, presumably carried into the embryos from the hormone injection. Dr. Blake is more determined than ever to produce a living specimen. The equipment has been sterilized and the hormone compound has been adjusted. Another clutch of fourteen eggs has been generated, and assigned to the same incubators as before."

May 23: Once again, the presence of a bacterial ring has been detected in six of the fourteen eggs. These six have been removed from the clutch and destroyed. Of the eight eggs left, five are showing marked growth, while the growth rate of the remaining three have slowed dramatically and will probably expire within days.

May 28: As predicted, the three weaker embryos have expired. The remaining five continue to grow and develop. We are very encouraged that we may have a successful hatching this time.

June 5: Candling of the five remaining eggs are revealing several aspects of the animals’ physical characteristics. The heads, legs, and tails are becoming defined. The creatures appear to have a rather pronounced spine, which we believe may be a developing "sail", leading to speculation that this may be a species called Dimetrodon, a lizard like animal with a sail down its back which predates the dinosaurs. If true, this would be a remarkable discovery! I remain unconvinced, however, for no fossil of this animal has ever been found outside the central plains states of the U.S. That does not mean, of course, that this creature could not have existed elsewhere, so I am waiting to see if a living specimen can be produced. This point of the process, when we can actually see the details of these specimens, always generates excitement among the workers, especially when a new species is being produced. The embryos are growing so rapidly that there is some concern that they may outgrow their environment before they are ready to hatch.

June 8: We have just received word of an accident on Isla Nublar, an accident so serious in nature that it threatens the very existence of the facility here. Our raptor expert, Mr. Muldoon, is among the dead, and our computer genius, Dennis Nedry, is missing. We continue our work here with heavy hearts, waiting to see if we will be forced to close down.

June 10: Mr. Hammond called this morning from San Juan, and requested that we continue with our research for the time being. He is unwilling to make a decision in haste regarding the future of the park. He must first speak to the board of directors and a decision will be made at a later date, when everyone is able to think a bit clearer.

June30: The embryos inside the shells continue to display marked growth. The "sails" on their backs are becoming more defined, but the legs appear to be longer than I would have expected for Dimetrodon, more resembling a bi-pedal creature. I believe we may have been mistaken in our attempts to identify these tiny creatures, but we have yet to pin a name to them. I feel we need a skilled paleontologist to make a definite identification, and have suggested photographing the embryos via X-Ray and sending them to Dr Alan Grant. He is arguably the best in his field, and Mr. Hammond speaks highly of him. I am certain he could make a positive identification simply by looking at their skeletal structure."

Ellie looked up and saw that Alan had opened his eyes in surprised reaction to hearing his name mentioned in the journal.

"Did they ever contact you about this or send you an X-Ray?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. This is the first I’ve heard of the idea."

"What would you have done if they had sent it?" she asked, curiously.

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "I’m not sure. It was right after the incident at the Park, so I doubt if I would have been eager to help them due to past experience with the park, but I suppose I might have attempted to identify the species, simply because the idea intrigues me."

Ellie dropped her eyes back to the journal.

"Whatever species this is, it is clearly not one of the better known, easily identified animals. Dr. Blake has resisted my idea of X-Raying the eggs, fearful that the process would be harmful to them. They would need to be removed from the incubator, and we seem to have found the proper temperature and humidity to successfully bring them to term, so even though I am reluctant to agree with him, I must admit, caution may be the best option. I suggested removing only one of the eggs from the incubator, but Blake insists that we must not lift the hatch or in any way tamper with the environment inside the incubator. He may be overly protective of them, but I do understand his concerns. This is the farthest we have taken the embryos from this DNA sample. It would be tragic to lose them now.

July 4: Today is Independence Day in the United States, but for us, it is simply another day on the island. Loud celebrations, particularly fireworks, are off-limits here, for we don’t want to frighten the animals. However, some of the younger scientists have been granted permission to go to the mainland to catch a movie or have dinner, but I and most of the older members will remain to continue the work.

July 14: The embryos are now too large to effectively view by candling, since their bodies take up almost the entire space inside the shell, so we must now wait until they hatch before we can make an identification of them. We have gone through our books, and have found several dinosaurs that have "sails", including Spinosaurus and Ouranosaurus. Spinosaurus is a carnivore, and although I am a bit excited at the new discovery, I must admit that I am apprehensive about the notion of creating yet another large, carnivorous species. We have already created more carnivores than is considered, in my opinion, to be safe or even sensible. We have already seen far too many accidents at both the Park and the holding pens here at the research facility. We should be concentrating on the more docile plant eaters."

"Sounds like MacFarland was the only one here with a lick of sense," Alan interrupted.

"Do you realize they generated forty-two eggs," Ellie calculated. "A possibility of 42 hatchlings. That is a frightening thought!"

"Yeah, had they all hatched. In this instance, the high mortality rate worked in the favor of the population here on the island. Otherwise, things would have been severely out of balance."

July 15: We are hearing rumors coming down through the ranks that Mr. Hammond may be considering the idea of moving the Park to Isla Sorna. After the disaster on Isla Nublar, I thought that would be the end of it, that our jobs would be gone, but he continues to insist that we carry on with our work on the embryonics. Recently, maintenance crews have been dispatched to the island to dig safety bunkers at various locations on Isla Sorna, and construction on a large fence has begun near the coast. Obviously, the investors have been convinced that a Park is still feasible, and we are gearing toward that. He is starting from scratch, and insists that things will be different this time. I sincerely hope so, since we lost two valuable employees in Mr. Muldoon and Mr. Arnold. Nedry is still missing, but Hammond revealed that Nedry’s greed was to blame for the incident at Nublar.

July 25: The eggs have hatched. The five specimens have been removed to a new incubator, and all are taking bits of meat from the feeders. We are examining the animals carefully, and are convinced that the species will prove to be either Spinosaurus or Ouranosaurus, but we are leaning toward Spinosaurus. No fossilized infant of this species has ever been found, and only one skeleton has ever been recovered. Because it was destroyed in WW2, we are having to rely on artists’ interpretations of what the animal may have looked like, so identification of this species may be difficult until they are older.

July 26: Two of the infants died during the night. Autopsy revealed underdeveloped cardiovascular systems in both. We are keeping a close watch on the other three.

August 1: I went out to the Pteranodon rookery this morning to view the progress of the creatures. They have grown far larger than anticipated, and are particularly aggressive. They are extremely dangerous creatures, and it is my personal opinion that they should be destroyed. The ramification of a possible escape by one or more of these winged creatures is very sobering. Dr. Blake insists that a defective gene which suppresses their migrating instincts will surely keep the animals on the island, should they manage to get out of the cage, but I believe it is tempting fate to even keep such creatures in existence. Of course, he and most of the others disagree with my "alarmist attitude". The cage is secure, but all it takes is for one careless employee to facilitate an escape. I still consider the large number of carnivorous animals being created on this island particularly troubling. Too maintain the integrity of the Park and the safety of its guests, we should be concentrating on the more docile creatures. I fear a serious accident is just waiting to happen. At the very least, I have suggested tagging the Pteranodons with electronic tracking devices. With the creatures contained as they are, it would be a relatively simple procedure to tranquilize and tag them, but Blake is vehemently opposed to the idea, claiming it is an unnecessary expense -- –"

Alan sat bolt up, startling Ellie into sudden silence. "Wait a minute! Tracking devices. That’s it!" He swung his legs over the edge of the sofa. "It will be more difficult now that they’re free, but with darting rifles, we should still be able to tranquilize them and tag them!"

Ellie paused to think about that, and pointed out the obvious flaw. "We couldn’t possibly catch every one of them."

"We wouldn’t need to. They most likely travel in flocks, so we’ll just dart as many as we can. If one leaves the island, the rest will probably follow, and we’ll be able to track them and deal with them before they reach the mainland!" He clapped his hand to his forehead, almost delirious with enthusiasm. "Why didn’t I think of that?"

Ellie was caught up in Alan’s fervor. "It would also be a great way to study them up close, while they’re under sedation."

"Yes!" Alan leaped to his feet, and literally ran from the living area, slid on the slick tile floor, rebounded off the wall and rushed down the hall to the office with Ellie on his heels. "This is great!" He dropped into the chair so forcefully that it rolled away from the desk. Grasping the edge of the desk, he pulled himself back into position, yanked open the drawer, snatched up the telephone, and began dialing a number off the slip of notebook paper.

"Who are you calling?" she asked.

"Hammond. We’ll need his approval to do this. He’ll have to foot the bill for the devices."

Ellie sat down on the edge of the desk facing him, and waited.

When the phone was answered, Alan said, "May I speak to Mr. Hammond, please."

"Whom may I say is calling?" asked the formally businesslike voice of the gentleman’s gentleman who looked after the aging millionaire.

Alan could not suppress a smile. Although he had only met the man one time last summer, he could easily picture the tall, lanky servant standing at the telephone table, ramrod straight in his dark suit and crisp white shirt. Less than impressed with the casually dressed paleontologist who had shown up at the Hammond doorstep the previous summer, he had left Alan standing outside while he was announced. "Alan Grant," he said in answer to the inquiry.

The businesslike attitude instantly changed to a mildly reproachful tone of voice. "Yes, Doctor Grant. Mr. Hammond has been waiting to hear from you for some time, since last autumn, I believe."

Seated in his chair before the ornamental fireplace, John Hammond looked up from his evening newspaper. "Baxter, is that Grant?’ he asked. When Baxter nodded, Hammond beckoned with his hand that he bring the telephone to him quickly.

"One moment, Doctor Grant," said Baxter. "Mr. Hammond wishes to speak with you." Placing the line on hold, he carried the phone to his white haired employer, mindful of the cord.

Hammond quickly folded the paper, and set it aside, then accepted the handset as Baxter released the line from hold.

"Doctor Grant?" asked the elderly Scotsman, his voice expressing his enthusiasm. "I’m so glad you finally decided to call! When I didn’t hear from you after all this time, I feared we might have lost you."

"No, nothing like that. I’ve been busy. And I did tell you that I probably wouldn’t be checking in, much."

"You didn’t check in at all," he reminded him in a gently reproving way. "So you’ve been living in harmony with the animals, then, just as you wanted?"

Living in harmony was not exactly the phrase Alan had termed for his request to live on the island nor was it an accurate description of his life among the dinosaurs, but he did not contradict the aging millionaire. "For the most part. Well, I’ve had a few close calls. I don’t think you could stay on this island very long among so many carnivores and not be placed in jeopardy a few times, but I’ve been lucky, so far."

"You really should have been checking in, Dr. Grant," the old gentleman scolded, gently. Somehow, the old man’s genuine concern for his welfare made him feel slightly guilty for not phoning sooner. "I’ve been greatly concerned that something might have gone wrong, especially now that you have another person on the island. I understand Doctor Sattler has joined you."

Alan glanced quickly at Ellie, acknowledging her presence and understanding that he would have to endure the small talk before Hammond would proceed to the important issues. "Yes, she joined me five weeks ago. How did you know?"

"Her late husband’s coworker at the State Department, a Mr. Kevin Buchanan I think his name was, called to inform me that she had flown to the island. I must say he was none too thrilled with the idea of her being there, but I assured him she’s quite capable of looking after herself."

"That she is," Alan agreed.

"I remember how splendidly she comported herself at Jurassic Park," Hammond said, admiringly. "As well as any man, I dare say, and better than some."

"Yes, I’d rather have her watching my back than anyone else. She’s been a big help to me."

"That’s wonderful," the old man said with a smile in his voice. "It isn’t good for a man to be alone that long, and you two have such a grand rapport. I saw it when we toured the Park all those years ago. How long has it been?" Before Alan could answer, he brushed aside the question. "I can’t remember, but it doesn’t seem so long ago. So, how are things going?"

At last! Alan thought. Finally we can get down to business. "That is what I wanted to talk to you about ---"

"Are they still thriving, then?" Hammond interrupted.

"Yes, they’re thriving quite well. In fact ---"

"Splendid! They are still reproducing?"

Alan clenched his jaw for a moment at the interruptions, but managed to maintain his pleasant voice for the sake of his benefactor. "Yes. We’re currently observing a nest of Parasaurolophus eggs, waiting for them to hatch." He shook his head, annoyed with himself for instigating his own brand of small talk. "What I’m calling about is the Pteranodons."

Instantly, Hammond’s voice became serious, indicating that he was at last ready to settle down to the matters at hand. "Yes, yes, are they still on the island? They haven’t flown away, have they?"

"I haven’t been to the coast in a while, but to my knowledge, they are still roosting in the cliffs near the shore. Ellie said she saw one of them when she arrived on the island by airplane."

"Yes, yes. My geneticists assured me that a defective gene inserted into the original animals should prevent them from migrating away from the island if they should escape from the cage, but I must admit to being a bit skeptical, especially with the subsequent generations. I’m afraid we didn’t anticipate the animals actually breeding, since Dr. Wu engineered them to be female." He chuckled, softly in a distracted manner. "We were all a bit astonished by that development, not the least of which was Dr. Wu!"

"Well, I’ve been trying to think of a way to either prevent them from leaving the island, or alerting authorities if they should fly toward the mainland, and ---"

"Have you come up with an idea?" Hammond asked with great interest.

"Yes. Capturing and returning them to the cage is unrealistic because of the likelihood of missing some of the nests. What I propose is to tranquilize a sufficient number of them and tag them with a tracking device. The procedure will eventually have to be repeated as the tagged animals die off, but if they decide to migrate from the island, the authorities will be made aware of it in sufficient time to intercept them."

Hammond was silent for a moment, pondering the idea with the mindset of a father about to send his children to execution. "If they fly toward the mainland, they will likely be killed," he mused.

"Better them than the human population," Alan pointed out. "With or without the tracking devices, they will be killed if they go to the mainland anyway. This just gives the authorities time to intercept them before they reach land, and it greatly minimizes the risk to human life."

"Yes, yes, you are quite right, Doctor Grant, quite right. We can’t risk the human population, can we? We’ve seen too many encounters go awry."

"I knew you would understand, Mr. Hammond," Alan said, patiently.

"All right. Very well, then. I’ll contact my people and see about having the animal tracking devices shipped to Costa Rica as soon as possible. What would you recommend, about twenty five or thirty?"

"I’d rather have too many than not enough," Alan said. "I’m not sure what the current population is, but thirty sounds reasonable. We’ll decide exactly how many to tag once we see the size of the flock."

"This is not something I am familiar with. It may take a week or two to put them together."

"We’ll need tranquilizer guns and darts, also," Alan reminded him. "And a few extra men to help in the tagging would be helpful. Skilled sharpshooters. I’m not sure this is something that Ellie and I can do alone. I broke a couple of ribs two weeks ago, and I’m not yet fully mended."

Hammond was instantly concerned. "Nothing serious, I trust?"

"No, just butted by a Packy. Ellie’s been looking after me."

"That’s good, that’s good. I’m glad to hear you’re all right. I’ll send some men to assist your operation. And I’ll have my scientists get to work on calculating the proper dosage and administration of the tranquilizers. And I’ll set up a team of scientists on Costa Rica to monitor the animals as they move about the island, so that the proper authorities can be notified if necessary. Well done, Doctor Grant, well done. I knew you would come up with a means of protecting the population without destroying my creatures."

"Well, I can’t take the credit, I’m afraid. We found a journal written by one of your researchers, a man by the name of Gerard L. MacFarland."

"Gerry? He’s an excellent scientist, very thorough. I had placed him in charge of investigating the high mortality rate among the infants, and finding a solution. I regret that he left my employment soon after the evacuation. Never did state exactly why."

"He wrote in his journal that he had made the suggestion of tagging the Pteranodons while they were still caged, just as a precaution, but could not gain support from the other scientists, who thought it unnecessary."

"Well, it would have been impossible to predict that they would get out of the cage, wouldn’t it?" Hammond asked. "We all assumed that they would die in due course of Lysine deficiency, anyway, so when I ordered the release of the animals, I deliberately did not extend that to the Pteranodons."

Ellie grasped Alan’s leg with her hand to gain his attention, and whispered, "Ask about the tapestry."

"Oh, Mr. Hammond, there is a secret room in the research facility that is covered by a tapestry ---"

"Yes, that was Gerry’s research area. You won’t be able to get inside without a security card, but even if you had it, it probably wouldn’t work after all this time. I always wondered why they didn’t power the facility with solar power, like they did the communications center, so that power would always be available. Oh, well, I guess that is moot now, anyway."

"I used a sledgehammer and knocked the doorknob off," Alan said with a smile, imagining that the old man must have winced at the thought of him breaking into the secret room. "Anyway, Ellie took a liking to the tapestry, and wondered if you might sell it to her."

"Oh, tell her if she wants it, it’s hers. It’ll just deteriorate there anyway, so if she can find a use for it, she may as well take it. In fact, if you see anything there that you can use, feel free to take it. I know there are many other items a scientist like yourself might be able to find use for, and I hate to see so much fine equipment going to waste. Everything there was top of the line when I purchased them."

Alan winked at Ellie to acknowledge the affirmative response, then said, "Thank you, Mr. Hammond. In fact, there is a very fine microscope that I would like to have, but I’d be willing to pay a reasonable price for it."

"I wouldn’t hear of such a thing! My gift to you, my boy. I insist. As I said, anything you think would be useful to you, feel free."

"That is very generous. Thank you. By the way, why was that room locked and covered by the tapestry? It appeared as if the room was intentionally hidden."

Hammond was silent for several moments, as if reluctant to divulge the secret. "Well, that was the lawyers’ idea, really. Bloodsuckers, all of them. They didn’t think it wise to let the investors know too much about the high mortality rate among the hatchlings for fear that some would rethink their generous contributions to our work."

"So, the only things the investors were permitted to see were the more positive ones: the hatcheries, the embryonics, and the living specimens," Alan guessed.

"Quite right, Doctor Grant. It became Gerry’s private area with some sensitive documents inside, plus, with the incinerator room and the autopsy room there, it wouldn’t be a place we’d want our investors or board of directors stumbling upon, if you know what I mean. But I guess you figured that out if you managed to break in. We occasionally sent out corporate tours to give them an appreciation of the research we were doing, and it was decided that it was not a fit room for them to view, so we kept its existence a secret. Nothing sinister, I assure you. Just a precaution to keep a lost tour member from stumbling on it. I’m also sure you’d know that it would be very easy to get lost in there!" He chuckled, remembering the maze of corridors. "I could barely find my way around, myself!"

"Yes, Ellie called it a ‘gerbil run’."

Hammond laughed, heartily. "Excellent description! She’s a fine woman, Doctor Grant. Did I tell you how well she handled herself at the Park?"

"Yes, you did," Alan replied. "Well, I think that’s about all I can think of for now."

"Give me your phone number, and I’ll call you when the tranquilizers and the tracking devices go out."

Alan hesitated, disinclined to provide the requested information to the inquisitive Scotsman. "I’m out in the field a lot, so you probably won’t be able to reach me. Why don’t I call you two weeks from today?"

He could hear the disappointment in Hammond’s voice. "Very well. You are a very secretive man, Doctor Grant, but I trust your instincts. Keep me informed when you can."

"I will. Goodbye, Mister Hammond."

"Goodbye, Doctor Grant."

Alan pressed the "end" button on the phone, and leaned back in his chair to look at Ellie.

"You didn’t mention the body in the vault," Ellie observed.

"No. I want to finish that diary first, and look through the rest of those documents before I drop that in his lap. I’m sure he’ll want to read them himself, and he may want to have a word with a few of those scientists and administrators who authorized the cover-up."

"Did you mean what you said to Hammond?" Ellie asked. "That you’d rather have me watching your back than anyone else?"

He hesitated briefly, then smiled. "Every word." Rising from the chair, he said, "Come on, let’s get back to that journal. I want to hear what he has to say about the Spinos."

Together, they returned to the living room, and Ellie took up the journal again.

August 5: The largest of the Spinosaurus hatchlings turned on its siblings and killed the smallest one. The remaining two have been separated to prevent a reoccurrence, but the loss of a healthy specimen in this manner is very discouraging. We still have the two, but it has reduced the odds of getting them to adult size by one third. The other two continue to thrive.

October 1: The smaller of the two Spinosauruses has become ill. Doctor Reynolds has been summoned, and reports pneumonia symptoms. This is very serious, and will likely result in the loss of the specimen. It has been quarantined to prevent infecting any of the other animals. He is treating the animals with antibiotics and feeding intravenously.

October 4: We have seen no improvement in the condition of the smaller Spinosaurus. The stronger of the two has bitten off the finger of one of the feeders! The finger was recovered from the animal’s jaws and packed in ice. He has been flown to San Juan to have the finger reattached. We’ve heard no word yet on whether the operation was successful.

At 8 pm, Doctor Reynolds reported that the sick Spinosaurus has expired. I placed the animal inside one of the refrigerated vaults to perform an autopsy either tomorrow or the day after, as my time allows. I already have a number of autopsies planned, as we have lost quite a few infants of many species this past week.

October 5: Gavin Shurley was attacked and killed ---

She stopped here. "This is where we came in the first time."

"So, we’re up to the final series of entries," Alan said, thoughtfully. "So, out of all those clutches of eggs, they ended up with only one Spinosaurus."

"The killer that’s out there now," Ellie concluded. "I’ll lay you odds it’s also the same one that killed its sibling."

"Yeah, probably," Alan agreed. "And the one that took off the worker’s finger. And the one that’s in the vault now is the one that fell ill during the final week. Obviously, he never got around to the autopsy to pinpoint the cause of its death."

"The survivor must have been released along with all the other dinosaurs," Ellie said. "But why didn’t it bother Malcolm’s expedition?"

"Maybe they just got lucky and it was on another part of the island," Alan suggested, then shook his head. "As noisy as they were, though, and with all the territory they covered, I would think that it would have gotten wind of them at some point. More likely, it had not grown to a sufficient size to be dangerous. It was probably still small enough and young enough that it was keeping under cover. At that point, it would have still been vulnerable to the Rexes. That depends on the growth rate, of course, but it sounds logical to me. Even eight feet tall, it would still be vulnerable to the larger predators." He paused and yawned.

"Tired?" she asked.

"Yeah. It’s been a busy day. I think I’ll turn in early."

She tossed the journal down on the tabletop and stood up. "I think I’ll turn in too. We can finish these tomorrow."

Together, they walked slowly up the stairs.