THREE

 

On the way back to her parents’ house, Ellie stopped at the neighborhood grocery store to pick up some of the items she would require on the extended journey to the island.  She had not been inside a store since before the accident, and even then, the maid Mark had insisted on hiring had done most of the shopping for the family’s necessities. She took her time, moving slowly up and down each aisle, looking at the various products with renewed interest.  For the first time, she felt as if she had just taken the first step toward rebuilding her life.  Her primary purchases included her preferred brands of soap, shampoo, conditioners, deodorants, toothpaste, and skin lotions, enough of each to last for an indefinite period of time.  Then, her sack filled with necessities, she returned home.

The snow was diminishing as Ellie completed her drive home, and as she observed the shimmering whiteness of the blanket of snow that lay on the ground, she remembered how she and Charlie used to play in the snow, building snowmen and making snow angels and throwing snowballs at one another.  Some day, she knew the memory would be a cheerful reminder of the child she had lost, but right now, the loss of him tugged at her heart with a pain that could not be suppressed.

Pushing those thoughts into the back of her mind, she concentrated on how she was going to break the news to her parents.  They would not be happy to learn that their frail daughter intended to fly to a remote island inhabited by dangerous predators.  They would likely point out all the reasons she shouldn’t go, valid reasons that she would not be able to refute.  She knew the dangers, but she also knew that some inexplicable force was tugging at her, insisting that she must go there as soon as possible.  Perhaps it was her imagination.  Perhaps it wasn’t. She only knew that it was so strong that it could not be ignored.

As she pulled her car into the driveway, she noticed that her father’s SUV was parked behind her mother’s Taurus wagon.  Checking the clock on the dash, she saw it was not yet time for him to return home from work.  Obviously, her mother had phoned him with the news that his daughter intended to return to field work with Alan Grant, and he had rushed home with the intention of trying to change her mind.

She sighed, saddened to know that their opinion of Alan was so low that they would go to such great lengths to discourage any contact with him.

Alan had always been good to her.  In some ways, he had treated her better than Mark.  Both had been similar in their dedication to their work, and neither had ever raised a hand against her, but Alan had never badgered her about the way she dressed or the way she wore her hair.  He had never become angry if she moved the furniture around in the house, or redecorated the kitchen.  Alan had never made her feel like she was being selfish and inattentive if she prepared her favorite meals on occasion instead of his, and he had never taken it personally if she was too tired to make love to him after a busy day. On the other hand, Mark had been raised the pampered and spoiled child of a prominent family, and as charming and accommodating as he could be, he always expected, in the end, to have his way.

She immediately felt remorseful that she had expressed any ill feelings toward her dead husband.  She had loved him, but she had loved Alan, too, and her heart ached with regret that her parents had never gotten to know him for the good and decent man that he was.

Bracing herself for an intense family discussion, which would obviously be two against one, Ellie gathered her sack of goods and her purse, and trudged through the snow to the front door.

Edward Sattler and his wife rose from the sofa as soon as they saw their daughter, and Ellie knew in a glance that her mother had been explaining the situation to him in detail.  They waited, expectantly, as she closed the door against the cold behind her.

"You’re home early," she said, forcing a cheerful tone to her voice that sounded almost natural.

He immediately noticed the change in her.  The dull, empty look in her blue eyes had filled with more light than he had seen in months.  He knew in an instant that she was looking forward to her return to work, and he experienced serious doubts whether his wife was justified in interfering.  Perhaps it was just what she needed to recover from the depression that had plagued her since that tragic evening in December.  Paleontology was clearly an outdated institution, now that the islands were public knowledge, and he did not want to see her move back to Montana, but if it gave Ellie pleasure, then what right did they had to try to deny her that?  What harm could it really do?

"Uh, yes," he replied.  "I decided to take part of the afternoon off."  He cast a guilty glance at his wife, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of bringing up the subject.

Ilene knew her husband‘s resolve was disintegrating, and she felt her own resolve crumble a bit as she, too, noticed the positive changes that were occurring in their daughter‘s demeanor.  The simple act of going to the grocery store was a positive indication of imminent recovery.  "You‘ve been shopping," she observed.

"Yes.  I needed to pick up a few things."

"What did Kevin have to say?"

"It’s just as I feared," she replied.  "Alan’s on Isla Sorna.  He has been for nearly seven months."

Ilene exchanged glances with her husband, noticeably relieved, obviously believing that his distance settled the issue.  "Well, I guess that postpones your decision to work with him.  It’s just as well.  It was a hasty decision, and you needed more time to think about it."

Ellie grimaced, slightly, dreading the confrontation, but knowing that it must be dealt with.  May as well get it over with.  She forged ahead.  "Actually, it doesn’t.  I’ve decided to join him there."

"What?" her parents cried in horrified unison.  Then, stunned speechless, they stared at her in mute disbelief.  This was far worse than either had anticipated.

Allowing them a few moments to get accustomed to the idea, Ellie placed her sack on one of the chairs and waited for the barrage of protests to begin.

It was Ed who found his voice first.  "Ellie, you can’t be serious."

"I’m afraid I am, Dad.  I know it’s sudden, but I have thought about it very carefully, and it’s something I want to do.  It’s something I have to do."

Ilene was nearly beside herself with worry and frustration.  "Ellie, this is insane!  You’re not fully recovered from the accident.  How can you possibly hope to endure the primitive conditions on that island?"

"The fresh air and clean environment might do me good.  You said yourself that a change of scenery is just what I need."

"Going off to that island is not what I had in mind, and you know it!"  She turned to her husband to explain.  "I suggested a trip to New York!"

Ed placed a gently restraining hand on his wife’s shoulder as if to convey a message of calm, then approached his daughter with a voice of composed reason, "Ellie, honey, you said yourself that this was a sudden decision.  Why don’t you take some time to think about this?"

"I can’t.  There is no time.  A supply shipment is going to the island in five days.  If I miss that transport, it will be another six weeks before I have another shot at it."

"Another six weeks might make all the difference for you."

"Another six weeks might be too late," she told him.  She did not add that her fears were for Alan’s life.

"Once you stop and think about it awhile, I’m sure you’ll realize that it was a hasty decision.  Honey, you‘ll be in a very primitive place, a long way from help if you should suffer a setback."

"I still have my painkillers, plus I still have a refill on my antibiotics," she told him.  "I’ll have it filled before I leave.  I’ll have it in case I need it."

"Antibiotics and painkillers may not be enough.  You’re recovering from a serious injury."

Ilene added, "Ellie, your father’s right.  You’re not completely healed, yet.  The environment could be detrimental to your recovery.  Please think about what you’re doing."

Ellie lowered her gaze, and for a moment, her parents believed they were getting through to her sense of reason.  In reality, nothing could have been farther from the truth.  Something deep inside reminded her that she had to get to that island as quickly as possible, and neither hell nor high water was going to keep her from doing just that.

"Mom, Dad," she said, looking up again.  "I know your concerns come from the fact that you love me.  I love you, too, and I appreciate your concerns, but nothing is going to stop me from going to that island.  If I have to buy my own boat and drive myself, even if I have to swim all the way, I’ll do it."

A frown creased Ed’s brow.  The drive and determination that had been conspicuously absent for months had returned with an intensity he had never seen in her before.  "Ellie, what is it you’re not telling us?  This is more than just a desire to return to work.  You are positively driven by this one objective.  I’d like to know why."

She hesitated.  How could she explain it to them when she wasn’t sure she understood it herself?  "I’m concerned about Alan," she told them, an honest response.  "I think --- I think he might be sick or hurt."

Her parents exchanged glances.  At least that was something they could relate to.

"Did Kevin give you indication of this?" Ilene asked.

"No," she responded.

"No?" Ed asked.  "What, then?"

She sighed.  "It’s hard to explain.  Ever since I called Montana, I’ve felt like something is wrong, something that involves him.  I don’t know why I feel this way, but I know I have to go there.  I have to know that he’s all right."

There were several moments of silence as her parents gazed at her, their concern for her mental and emotional state of mind as obvious in their faces as their concern for her physical health.

Finally, Ed said, "Ellie, you have no proof that anything is wrong.  Surely he has a telephone, or something to communicate with the outside world.  If he’s hurt or sick, he’ll send for help."

She shook her head.  "He might be hurt too badly to call for help."

"Ellie, you’re grasping at straws.  Chances are, there is nothing wrong."

"I can’t take that chance.  I know you don’t understand, but Alan and I were together for a long time, and if he’s in trouble and I have the power to help him, then I have to do it."

 

Her father gazed at her for a long moment, understanding the unspoken implication behind her words.  "He means that much to you?" he asked, quietly.

"Yes.  He does.  He always has."  She left it for them to decipher the meaning behind that.  "If I get to that island and he’s all right, then he’ll put me to work, and that will be good for me.  It’ll help me get over the pain of what happened.  I don’t mean to criticize, but you both treat me with kid gloves, like you’re afraid of upsetting me.  You watch me all the time, like you think I’ll do something to hurt myself."

Her mother glanced shamefacedly at her husband.  "We were afraid.  When you were in the hospital, you said you wished that you had died, too."

"At that time, I did wish it.  But I haven’t felt that way since.  Yes, I’ve been depressed, but that is natural, after what I’ve been through, and quite frankly, those pills the doctor put me on make me feel even worse.  I’m going to stop taking them."

"Ellie, I don’t think that’s a good idea," Ilene said, hastily.

"They make me feel like I’m walking around in a fog.  When the pills start to wear off, I start feeling better, then its time to take another one.  I don’t want to die," she told him.  "I want to live, and I’m going to get over this, but I have to have the time and the space to do it my own way.  And that means going to Isla Sorna."

"Ellie, we’re worried about you.  Just this morning, you weren’t interested in anything, and now you are totally obsessed by this," Ilene said.

The telephone rang, a welcomed interruption, and Ellie picked it up before her mother could react.  "Hello?"

"Ellie, this is Kevin.   Are you still determined to go through with this?"

"Yes."

"All right, then.  I have your travel arrangements made.  You’ll leave at 8:00 Friday morning from Dulles Airport.  I’ll send over the paperwork tomorrow."

"Okay.  How will I get to the island?"

"The supplies are carried in by a local pilot.  Apparently, there is some kind of small landing strip on the island."

"Thanks, Kev.  I owe you."

 

"Just come back in one piece, okay?"

"Okay." She hung up and turned to face her parents. "That was Kevin.  He made my travel arrangements for me."

Edward sighed, heavily.  "Isn’t there anything we can do to change your mind?"

"I’m sorry, but no, there isn’t."

"You were nearly killed the last time you were down there."

"I know, but I know what I’m up against this time, and Alan has survived among them for a long time.  He must have found some way to cohabit with them."  She picked up her sack of necessities, intending to sort through them and start packing her bags.  "Would you mind looking after Jack for me while I‘m gone?"

Her parents both glanced at the huge parrot that waited silently in his cage, watching them curiously as if he understood that his human was going away.  "Of course we’ll look after him, but we wish you would change your mind."

She shook her head, and reiterated, "I won’t change my mind.  I have to do this." 

Ilene cleared her throat and glanced at her husband, reluctant to bring up the subject, but so troubled by it that she knew she must address it.  "Ellie, have you considered how it will look for you to stay on an island alone with that man?  You said yourself that he’s been there by himself for more than six months ---"

Ellie raised her hand, cutting her off.  "Don’t even go there, Mom.  You don’t have to worry about Alan.  He isn’t like that.  He would never take advantage of me."

"Honey, I’m just saying that the temptation might be too much to resist, for both of you.  You need time to recover as much emotionally as you do physically, and I just don’t think you can do that if you’re around him twenty-four hours a day.  You still have feelings for him that could cause problems."

"Alan is a good friend," she insisted once again.  "We’ll be co-workers; that’s all.  Now, I need to start getting ready to go.  There are so many things I need to do!"  Turning, she went down the hall to her bedroom, leaving her very concerned parents alone in the living room.

After several minutes, Ilene went to Ellie’s bedroom and looked in through the open door.  Her daughter had removed her suitcases from the closet, and had opened them up on her bed.  The sack full of personal items had been dumped on the bed, and she was busily sorting through them and arranging them inside one of the suitcases.

Ilene rapped her knuckles on the doorjamb.

Ellie turned around, and her mother entered the room.  "I’m going to have to go to the house to pick up some summer clothing.  The weather will be hot down there."

"Would you rather I got them for you?" Ilene asked.

"No.  I’m going to have to face the ghosts eventually.  Might as well get it over with."

Ilene carried an aerosol can, which she presented to her.   "Take this with you to the island," she said.  "Your father picked this up for me to use in case I get mugged or something.  I’ve never had occasion to use it, but it might come in handy for you."

Ellie reached out to accept the can.  "Pepper spray?"

"I don’t think they’ll let you on the plane with it in your carry-on luggage, so put it in your suitcase.  As soon as you get to Costa Rica, I want you to keep it in your purse.  I don’t trust those foreign men."

"I’ve been to Costa Rica, and the men didn’t seem inclined to bother me."

"You had Alan with you, then, and Mr. Hammond.  This time, you’ll be completely alone.  It isn‘t safe for a woman to travel alone anywhere, these days."  She grasped Ellie‘s hand.  "For what it‘s worth, Ellie, I trust Alan, and I know he‘ll take good care of you."

"Thanks, Mom," Ellie smiled and placed the aerosol can in her suitcase.  At that moment, she was completely unaware of just how useful the pepper spray would actually be.

 

 

 

An hour later, for the first time since the accident, Ellie approached the intersection where her life had been forever altered. There was no traffic on the road that day, so she slowed down and stopped at the curb.

 

The streets of the affluent neighborhood, housing doctors, lawyers, and government officials, were typically kept clear of snow by the plows, and as she gazed at the dark, wet pavement, she noticed that every trace of evidence left behind by the accident had been cleaned up. No glass or shattered auto parts littered the road. There were no skid marks. Everything had been wiped clean, as if it had never happened.

 

Her eyes traveled to the stop sign against when Mark’s car had come to rest, and she observed that the only indications of the devastating accident was a small cross adorned with a bouquet of silk flowers placed at the base of the stop sign, the tip of the cross and the blue and yellow blossoms just barely peeking out of the pile of snow turned up by the snowplows. The pole had clearly been replaced, for it bore no signs of scarring or denting from the impact.

 

Ellie was uncertain how long she had sat there staring at the scene of the accident, but the soft toot of a car horn behind her jolted her from her reverie. Glancing quickly into the rearview mirror, she saw that a vehicle had come up behind her.

 

With an apologetic wave to the driver, she released the brake and proceeded through the intersection. The other car turned the corner, so Ellie slowed her car as she drove down the street toward the house in which she and Mark and the children had lived. When it came into view, she felt her throat constrict painfully with suppressed emotion. There had been good times inside that house, and now, after three months of remaining empty, it had taken on that neglected look peculiar to residences that have been abandoned.

 

Unlike the other homes in the neighborhood, her driveway had not been cleared of the winter’s accumulations of snow, leaving it deep in drifts, each snowfall amassing on top of the previous one. There were no tire tracks to mar the fluffy mountains, so she turned carefully into it and coasted to a stop and turned off the ignition.

 

Ellie felt her heartbeat step up a few notches as she gazed at the two story house that stood out against the backdrop of snowdrifts and leafless trees. Facing the ghosts was proving more difficult than she had expected. Somehow, at her parents’ house, the knowledge that she would soon be seeing Alan again had temporarily pushed her emotional trauma into the background. Now, facing the empty house, she felt the impact of her loss come rushing back, filling her with dread at the prospect of entering the dwelling and viewing her family’s possessions.

 

With the car’s engine off and the heater disengaged, the cold began to seep into the vehicle, reminding Ellie that she needed to make a decision; either get out of the car and go inside, or drive back to her parents’ house and allow her mother to gather the needed items, as she had offered to do.

 

Ellie drew a deep, shaky breath. “No, I can do this,” she whispered to herself. “I need to do this.”

 

After a brief hesitation, she pushed open the car door and stepped out on the driveway and pushed the vehicle door closed. For a long, indecisive moment, she stood shin-deep in the snow and gazed at her home, her eyes coming to rest on the windows of the big corner bedroom she had shared with Mark. The curtain was open, but the interior was dark.

 

Somewhere down the road, she heard the scraping noise of a snow shovel on concrete, and knew without looking that a groundskeeper was hard at work in the process of clearing his employer’s driveway or sidewalk of the fresh snow. No one else was outdoors in the cold and the snow.

 

“You can do this, Ellie,” she repeated.

 

Her heart was pounding with dread as she waded through the snow on the sidewalk toward the front door, and her fingers trembled slightly as she inserted the key in the lock and turned the knob. The door glided slowly open, revealing the dark, lonely foyer of the house that had once been so alive with laughter, of children’s footsteps pounding on the hardwood floors, and the promise of the future.

 

Withdrawing the key from they keyhole, she stomped the snow from her shoes and jeans, then stepped over the threshold and pushed the door closed behind her. The click of the latch was loud in the silent house.

 

The red light was blinking on the security keypad on the wall behind the door, and she experienced a brief moment of panic as she tried to remember the security code. It had been months since circumstances had necessitated the use of the code, and time had faded the sequence that Mark had selected. Finally, after mulling over the numbers in her mind, she placed her fingertips on the rubberized keys and entered the appropriate code. The red light switched to green.

 

The interior of the house was very cold, so she did not remove her coat as she moved from the foyer to the living room. Before she had left the hospital, when it had become apparent that she would not be able to return home any time soon, her father had come to the house to fetch Jack the parrot, and while there he had prudently turned off the heat to reduce the utility bills. He had told her later that after several days alone in the house, Jack, normally quiet and reserved around people he did not know well, had been very happy to see him and had put on quite a show of his exuberance.

 

The drapes were drawn together over the picture window and the room was dark and gloomy, but everything was just as she had left it that evening in December when she and Mark had hurried out to the car with the kids, anticipating an evening of celebration. Halley’s playpen was set up in the corner within easy reach of Ellie’s favorite chair, with many of her favorite toys still on the cushion inside it. Beside it was Charlie’s tricycle with a triceratops perched on the seat while plush likeness of Barney the purple dinosaur was balanced on the handlebars. His pegboard was on the floor next to it, the colorful pegs scattered about on the throw rug. An empty soda bottle sat on the end table beside Ellie’s chair where she had enjoyed a soda while watching the evening news shortly before going upstairs to dress for her night out with Mark.

 

For the briefest moment, Ellie wondered why the maid had not removed the soda bottle to the trash and returned Charlie’s toys to the toy box. That was a strict rule in the house; litter and clutter was to be picked up immediately. The answer was obvious; with her in the hospital indefinitely and Mark and the children dead, the maid had been forced to seek other employment. Vaguely, she remembered receiving a get-well card from her, but could not recall the details and she had thought nothing more about it. She would have to remember to write her a thank you note before she left Arlington.

 

She turned slowly in a circle, her eyes seeking out significant items related to the people who had lived there. All around her was evidence of the life she had spent in that house, most notably the photographs. Her wedding picture on the mantle depicted her and Mark smiling happily for the photographer, and on either side of it and on the end tables were additional pictures of her and Mark, of the children, of them as a family: Charlie playing in the sandbox, Halley’s first birthday, a professional photo of the two of them dressed in their Sunday best. All of it gone in the blink of an eye. The void in her heart seemed to expand.

 

Moving to the end table beside her chair, Ellie impulsively snatched up the soda bottle and carried it into the kitchen, her footsteps resounding loudly through the corridors. The trash can was kept in a cabinet under the sink, so she opened it and tossed it into the trash, then slammed the cabinet door closed. Leaning back against it, her eyes wandered to the table where Alan had shared a meal with them the last time she had seen him. Instantly, she was jolted back to the reason she was there and the need to collect suitable clothing for the trip.

 

Her thin body shivered beneath the heavy coat she wore. Drawing the collar closer beneath her chin, Ellie left the kitchen and trotted up the stairs to the second floor and made her way down the corridor to the bedroom. Here, she turned on the overhead light and paused to observe the room. Like the living room, it was exactly as she had left it.

 

Mark’s briefcase lay on the chair where he had tossed it when he had rushed into the room, apologizing for being late. A plastic Apatosaurus lay forlornly on the floor beside the bed, having been overlooked in their haste to deliver the children to their grandparents. Her vanity chair was still pulled away from the vanity and her makeup kit was still open. In her haste to get the children delivered to her parents’ house, she had not pushed the chair back into place or closed the lid. Staring at it though large eyes, she wondered: If she had taken the time to do that, would it have delayed their arrival at the intersection? Would it have been enough time to have allowed the drunk driver to pass through it harmlessly, thus sparing the lives of her husband and children?

 

Moving to the vanity, she pushed the chair into position beneath it and lowered the lid of her makeup kit. Three seconds. No, three seconds probably would have made no difference in preventing the accident. Blaming herself was as pointless as blaming Mark for coming home from work late that night. Bad things happen, and no one can explain them or predict them. It was just a part of life.

 

Crossing the spacious bedroom to the window, she looked outside at the neighborhood, a view she had known very well during her marriage for she had watched for Mark many times when he was late for a scheduled family event or appointment. Below, her car waited in the snowy driveway. The postman was making his way down the sidewalks delivering the day’s ration of bills, fliers, and credit card applications. Her mail was being forwarded to her parents’ house, and as she watched, he bypassed her house without a glance.

 

Lifting her eyes to the sky, she noticed the darkening of the clouds with the promise of more snow.

 

Turning away from the window, she went to the large walk-in closet and opened up the doors and stepped inside. It was large and roomy with shelves, drawers and rods for efficiently storing both in-season and out of season clothing. A floor to ceiling partition separated her side from Mark’s side. Her mother had been here just prior to her release from the hospital to collect most of her casual winter clothes. Ignoring the business suits on Mark’s side of the closet, she flipped on the light and went through the drawers, seeking her summer clothing. Removing all of her shorts and short sleeved and sleeveless blouses from the drawers and rods, she carried them to the bed to select the ones she wished to take.

 

Her suitcases were at her parents’ house, so she located a large shopping bag with handles and arranged them inside it. Next, she found a pair of work shoes from her days on dig sites that Mark had urged her to throw away, as they were no longer needed. Allowing him to think she had complied, she had hidden them away in a drawer in the bottom of the closet as a sentimental reminder of her past life. The shoes were placed in the shopping bag as well. As an afterthought, she picked up the toy dinosaur and placed it inside the sack, intending to take it to Isla Sorna with her.

 

Grasping it by the handles, she returned to the bedroom door and flipped off the light. After casting one last, lingering glance at the bedroom she had shared with Mark, a bedroom larger than her parents’ living room, she turned and started back down the stairs.

 

She had barely taken a step when she heard a voice calling from downstairs: “Mrs. Degler? Mrs. Degler, are you in here?”

 

Ellie grimaced, recognizing the voice as that of Mrs. Sanderson from next door, and fought down a twinge of annoyance that the woman had entered her home uninvited. Just because she hadn’t been there for three months was no excuse for the rude interruption of her difficult journey back to the house.

 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Sanderson. I didn’t hear you knock,” she said with just a trace of sarcasm in her voice.

 

The middle aged woman appeared at the bottom of the stairs, an anxious expression on her upturned face as she watched the younger woman approaching. Ellie saw a crimson blush rise on her cheeks at the reminder that one should take the courtesy of knocking before entering someone else’s home. “I knocked, but no one answered,” she said in her defense. “I guess you didn’t hear. I hope you don’t mind that I came on inside.”

 

“That’s all right,” Ellie said, wearily. Perhaps she had knocked, and she just had not heard. “What can I do for you?”

 

“I saw your car in the driveway, and wondered if you were finally moving back home. I just wanted to be the first to welcome you back and see if there was anything I can do to help. The first thing you need to do is hire someone to clear that snow from the sidewalks! I had a terrible time making it to the door! And we need to get you another housekeeper, since yours ----”

 

“That won’t be necessary.”

 

Mrs. Sanderson appeared shocked. “But Mrs. Degler, you can’t take care of this big house all by yourself! You have a position to maintain!”

 

At the bottom of the stairs, Ellie put down the shopping bag and faced her neighbor. She knew the visit was not to welcome her home, but to milk her for information about the accident and her injuries, but on the off-chance that the woman was sincere, she was determined to be polite. “I’m not coming home, Mrs. Sanderson, not just yet, anyway. I came by to pick up a few things. I’m taking an extended trip, and needed some warm weather clothes.”

 

Mrs. Sanderson’s eyes traveled from Ellie’s face to the sack of clothing, then made their way back to her face. Ellie knew that within the hour, the entire neighborhood would know of her plans. “That is probably the best thing for you, dear. A change of scenery will do you good.” The woman was gazing at her intently, scrutinizing her gaunt appearance, and did not seem to take the hint. “Oh, honey, I was so sorry to hear about what happened to Mr. Degler and those two beautiful children. Such a terrible tragedy for you to endure. The talk of the neighborhood, it was. Imagine! That low class trash going through our neighborhood drunk and at such a high speed. He should have stayed on his own side of town, where he belonged!” She finished with a stiff nod, reaffirming her words. “How are you feeling? Are you doing better? I tried to visit you at the hospital, but they wouldn’t let me. I heard that you nearly died as well!”

 

Ellie cocked her head, slightly, surprised to hear what appeared to be genuine concern for her welfare. While living there, Mrs. Sanderson had not put out any effort to get close to her. “I’m much better now.” Talking about Mark, the children, and the accident was the last subject she wanted to discuss. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I really must be going. I have a lot of packing to do.”

 

“Oh, I understand! Where is it you’re going? Obviously someplace warm! Florida, perhaps? That is where my husband and I vacation during cold weather trips.”

 

Ellie fought down another wave of irritation. “No. Costa Rica.”

 

“Costa Rica?” Her eyes darted back to the sack, rested briefly on the toy dinosaur that stood atop the stack of shorts, then snapped back again. “Isn’t that where that island of dinosaurs is? Oh, dear, you’re not going there, are you?”

 

“In fact, I am. I’m meeting a friend there,” Ellie interrupted, determined she would not be pressured into discussing her injuries and recovery.

 

Instantly, the woman realized exactly who the friend was that she was meeting. It was common knowledge in the neighborhood that Ellie’s past life had been spent digging in the dirt with a well-known paleontologist, and she saw disapproval in the gray eyes that stared back at her. “I don’t mean to meddle, Mrs. Degler, but is that a good idea? I mean, it just doesn’t seem proper! Your husband ---”

 

“Is dead,” Ellie interrupted. “I know you mean well, but I know what I need to do to get over my loss. I’ll be just fine, Mrs. Sanderson.”

 

“Oh, I see. Well, be careful then. Before you go, I was wondering about the house.”

 

Ellie gazed curiously at the woman’s inquisitive expression. “What about it?”

 

“Well, it’s been three months since anyone has lived here, and you know how it is when a house is unoccupied for a long time. It lowers the value of the property and those around it. You understand, I’m sure. Spring will be coming soon, and the lawn ---”

 

“Yes, I understand, Mrs. Sanderson. When I get back from Costa Rica, I may decide to put the house up for sale. I just don’t have time to deal with it right now.”

 

This was not what the older woman had hoped to hear. “For sale? Oh, dear. I do hope you’ll find a nice buyer. I’d hate to get someone in here who did not keep the property up to the standards of the rest of the neighborhood, if you know what I mean.”

 

“Well, maybe you could put the word out to some people you know,” Ellie suggested.

 

That cheered the woman considerably. “Yes, I could do that. How long will you be in Costa Rica? Two or three weeks?”

 

“I’m not sure. Perhaps a few months.”

 

“Months? Oh, dear. I didn’t expect it would stand empty that long.”

 

“Have no fear, Mrs. Sanderson. I am leaving funds with my father for maintenance and upkeep, so I assure you that the house will not crumble and the yard will not turn into a jungle while I’m gone.”

 

For the first time, the woman seemed to hear the traces of sarcasm. “Oh, well, I suppose that will have to do,” she said, rather stiffly. “I hope you have a nice trip.”

 

“So do I,” Ellie replied with a sensation of dread in her heart, wondering what she would find when she reached the island. She reached for the door and opened it.

 

Taking the hint, Mrs. Sanderson made her exit while Ellie set the security alarm, then followed her outside and locked the doors.

 

“Have a safe trip, Mrs. Degler,” the neighbor said, following Ellie down the sidewalk.

 

“Thank you.” Ellie opened her car door and placed her shopping bag on the passenger seat, then got in and started the ignition. She backed down the driveway, and pulled out onto the street, and as she accelerated away from the house, she glanced in the rear view mirror and saw Mrs. Sanderson hurrying across the street to Mrs. Tisdales’ house as fast as she dared on the slick surface.

 

Ellie could not help but smile, knowing that she would be the topic of discussion for days to come. She did not care. In a few days, she would see Alan again, and that knowledge lifted her heart. Perhaps in Alan’s presence, with work to occupy her mind her and her time, she could start looking toward the future.

 

FOUR

Five days later, and after a virtually sleepless night in the San José hotel in which Kevin had made her reservation, Ellie dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans, a sleeveless blouse, and sneakers, then repacked the few items she had required during her one night stay in Costa Rica. She left a generous tip for the maid on her pillow, a privilege afforded her by her marriage to a wealthy government employee. Then she summoned a porter to carry her luggage outside to the sidewalk to await the transportation that would carry her to the private airstrip.

It was a beautiful morning. The huge yellow sun shown brightly over the tropical plants that decorated the hotel’s landscape, and already, she could hear the splashing and happy shouting and laughter of the vacationing children and adults who now played in the swimming pool, enjoying the warm climate.

The night before, when she had arrived in Costa Rica, she had marveled at the irony of it all, for Kevin had made her reservations in the same hotel in which she and the other survivors of the incident on Isla Nublar had stayed eight years earlier. She fondly recalled that John Hammond’s grandchildren, Lex and Tim, had played in the hotel swimming pool while the government authorities had questioned her, Alan, and Hammond about the events at the island. Ian Malcolm had been taken immediately to the hospital to recover from his injuries, but she learned later that he had been questioned as well.

"Shall I summon a taxi, Señora?" the porter asked.

"No, I have a ride," she responded, placing a tip in his hand.

His eyes lit up with delight. "Gracias, Señora, gracias."

She sat down on one of the suitcases to wait. She was still sitting on her suitcase fifteen minutes later when an automobile pulled into the parking lot, hesitated briefly, as if searching for something, then approached her and stopped at the curb before her. The driver’s door opened, and a burly Costa Rican man emerged from it.

"Señora Degler?" he asked with a cheerful smile.

"Yes," she replied, rising from her crude seat. "Do you speak English?" she asked, hopefully.

"I speak English, sí." He opened the trunk of his vehicle and began loading her luggage. "My name is Miguel Alvarado. My cousin and I own a sightseeing tour nearby. We fly tourists wherever they want to go -- over the rain forests, to the neighboring islands; wherever they want. Señor Grant, he hire us to bring supplies to him every six weeks." He placed the last piece of luggage inside the trunk, closed the lid, and turned to scrutinize her appearance. She was decidedly pretty, but appeared pale and drawn, as if in poor health. "I can’t help but wonder why a pretty lady like you wish to go to a dangerous place like Isla Sorna."

She shrugged. It seemed everyone, even perfect strangers, questioned her motives in regards to the notion of her going to the island. "I’ve come to help Dr. Grant in his research."

Miguel’s dark eyes twinkled with amusement. "Research? I see!"

Heat crept into Ellie’s cheeks in response to his unspoken insinuation. "Yes, truly. We used to work together digging up fossils in Montana. Now, I’m going to help him with this project." She did not specify precisely what the project was, as she did not know the specific nature of the research he was conducting.

"You are scientist, sí?" he asked.

"Yes. I’m a paleobotonist." Understanding from his puzzled expression that the title meant nothing to him, she added, "I study the plants that dinosaurs used to eat. Or, in this case, what they are now eating on Isla Sorna."

"This is interesting work?" he asked, skeptically.

"To a scientist, it is," she replied, "although I can see where it might not impress everyone." It had not really impressed Mark, who did not understand her fascination with the fossil records. He had patiently pretended to listen whenever she had eagerly wanted to discuss a new fossil find she had read about in the newspaper, but she knew he was not interested in her past life.

Miguel opened the passenger door, and Ellie slid into the front passenger seat. He then closed the door, and walked around to the driver’s side. After settling his large frame into the bucket seat, he shifted the car into drive, and sped away from the hotel.

They conversed very little during the drive to the small airport. Miguel would normally have been generating conversation with his passenger. Foreigners were particularly interesting to him, for their lifestyles were frequently far removed from his, but Ellie Degler was different. He sensed that the American woman was not looking for a conversation. She was quiet, distracted, and, he assumed, worried about the project she was undertaking. Tossing an occasional curious glance her direction, he concentrated primarily on navigating the narrow, rough roads that led into the rural areas of Costa Rica, and left her alone with her thoughts.

Ellie pressed close to the window on the passenger seat, unaware that she was practically molded to the door. Before the life-altering accident, she had been a cheerful, outgoing individual who could carry a conversation with almost anyone. She hoped one day to recapture her natural interest in other people, but for now, she preferred to simply keep to herself, and sit in silence, gazing at the lush forested mountains that jutted up from the flat farmland.

Geographically, Costa Rica was a lovely place with a rugged terrain, but she knew that the place she was going to was far more primitive than the hills and mountains of Costa Rica; more primitive even than the badlands of Montana, in which she had spent so many summers with Alan, excavating ancient bones from the dry earth. It was a way of life she was beginning to miss.

Again, she wondered why Alan had returned to the islands after stating so vehemently that he would never, ever go back there. And why was he now so concerned that the animals would escape into civilization? They were, for the most part, large, cumbersome animals, and although she knew that they could probably swim, it was unlikely they were capable of swimming the great distance required to reach the mainland.

On the other hand, she could not so easily dismiss Alan’s concerns. His instincts and theories almost always proved correct, and if he believed it were possible that the animals could get off the island, then his concerns must be not only valid, but also probable.

The airport out of which Miguel and his cousin conducted their guided aerial tours was a small, private field on land that was probably family-owned. It consisted only of a couple of small airplanes, and one rickety hanger constructed of corrugated sheet metal.

Miguel parked the car beside the hanger and got out.

The knot in Ellie’s stomach tightened another notch, hoping the aircraft was in better condition that its crudely built shelter.

Ellie got out of the car and stood with her hands shoved into the hip pockets of her jeans as she gazed at the two airplanes. One was a Cessna 402B, the other a Kingair 200. To her great relief, both planes appeared, visually, at least, to be in a good state of repair.

Another man, presumably Miguel’s cousin, was on the tarmac inspecting the Cessna. Miguel led her across the hard surface to the other man.

"This is my cousin, Eustacio Delgado," Miguel said. "He’s our pilot." He spoke several words to his cousin in Spanish.

"Buenos dias, Señora," he said, dipping his head in a polite nod.

"He no speak English," Miguel told her. "That’s why he be pilot, and I be in charge of rounding up business. Most of our customers are American."

"Buenos dias," Ellie responded, using what little Spanish she remembered from her high school days.

"Come, I show you the plane," Miguel said, leading her up the steps and into the cylindrical body of the aircraft.

The plane was tall enough to stand without stooping, but there was only one seat beneath each window on either side of the narrow aisle. There were two seats in the open cockpit.

Shifting her eyes to the rear of the plane, she observed the boxes of supplies, stacked against the rear bulkhead, that would see Alan --- and her --- through the next six weeks, until the next scheduled delivery.

Miguel saw her looking at the boxes. "Your amigo, Señor Buchanan, sent us a supply list for you."

She nodded. "Did you receive the money I sent you?"

"Sí. You are very generous, Señora."

"Good pay yields good results," she stated.

"Unfortunately, not everyone lives by your philosophy. You can sit anywhere you wish. You’re our only passenger today. We’ll get your luggage on board."

Ellie slipped into one of the plush gray seats and stared out the oval window. The palms of her hands were moist with nervous anticipation, and she wiped them on her thighs to dry them on the rough denim. She wondered silently: Was she nervous about being on the island, or was she nervous about being with Alan again?

A pensive frown creased Miguel’s brow as he watched her, struck by the sadness in her eyes when she turned back to look at him, as if wondering why he was still standing there observing her. He shrugged, assuming perhaps she was nervous about the project she was undertaking. He knew he would be nervous if he was going to live on that island!

Turning, he trotted back down the stairs and walked back to the car. He and Eustacio quickly added Ellie’s luggage to the stacks of supplies.

Then, Eustacio sat down in the pilot’s seat to fire up the engines while Miguel pulled up the attached staircase and closed and secured the hatch. Then he took his place in the co-pilot’s seat.

Ellie sat three seats behind them, her seat belt fastened across her abdomen in preparation for the take-off.

The plane accelerated down the runway and lifted into the brilliant blue sky. Minutes later, they were over the water flying westward from Costa Rica toward their destination, 207 miles from the Central American country.

In all directions, the Pacific Ocean was a vast expanse of dazzling blue and shimmering gold, reflected from the sky and the sun. Fortunately, the air was calm, or the journey would have been an unbearably rough ride in the small craft. Ellie’s stomach was tense enough without the added burden of a rough flight.

At the controls, Eustacio guided the Cessna above the water with the experience of a man familiar with his job. Miguel sat in the co-pilot‘s seat, conversing in Spanish with his cousin. Ellie did not bother trying to understand what they were saying.

The last time she had made this journey, it had been made in the quiet comfort of an InGen helicopter. With her had been an eccentric mathematician by the name of Ian Malcolm, an attorney named Donald Gennaro, John Hammond himself, and Alan Grant. Their destination had been Isla Sorna’s sister island, Isla Nublar, where multi-millionaire John Hammond had sought to establish Jurassic Park, a high dollar theme park featuring living dinosaurs as the primary attraction. The guests were there to observe, and, Hammond hoped, to endorse the park for the benefit of the nervous investors. Because of the greed of a saboteur, the visit had been a disaster, resulting in the deaths of three innocent people, who had been eaten alive by carnivorous dinosaurs. The saboteur had never been found, but because he had not been seen on the boat that had left for the mainland just prior to the power outage that had culminated into disaster, it was believed that he had been among the fatalities.

Four years after Isla Nublar had been abandoned, it was revealed that the actual breeding facility had been on nearby Isla Sorna, known in the corporation’s records as Site B. Left on their own, the dinosaurs on Site B had thrived, much as they had millions of years ago.

Ellie had never intended to return to this part of the world. Both islands were dangerous, inhabited by predators not seen since the great extinction millions of years ago. Subsequent expeditions to check the animals’ progress and to rescue a lost child had resulted in more deaths. Fishermen who had come ashore had disappeared without a trace, causing locals to refer to the island as Death Island. Closing her eyes, she silently prayed that Alan would not be among them.

Deep in thought, she did not know how long they had been traveling when she sensed a presence beside her. She opened her eyes again and was startled to find Miguel Alvardo standing beside her, a wide smile on his dark face.

"Pardoné, Señora," he apologized in a thick Hispanic accent. "I no intend to frighten."

She waved away his concern. "That’s okay."

"We make good time. We be there soon."

A knot of dread began to twist in her stomach at the mere thought of setting foot on an island inhabited by dinosaurs. What insanity had possessed her to make this trip? In response to Miguel’s comment, she nodded. Then, she reached into the pocket of her jeans and withdrew a one hundred dollar bill. "I’m offering you an extra hundred if you will leave the island before Dr. Grant has a chance to say no."

Miguel‘s eyes lit up at the sight of the American currency and the ease with which he could earn it. Without hesitation, he reached out and accepted the bill. With a knowing smile, he asked, "Señor Grant, he no be es’pecting you, eh?"

"No, he’s not expecting me."

"He be pleasantly surprised, then?" he asked, his grin broadening.

"I hope so," she replied with a doubtful edge to her voice. The truth was, she had no idea how he would react to her presence. He would probably be furious with her. He would almost certainly try to send her back.

"Take my word for it, Señora. He be on that island all alone for more than six months with no lady friend --- only dinosaurs to keep him company. He be glad to see you!"

Ellie felt her cheeks grow warm. "It isn’t like that, Miguel," she explained. "We’re old friends. We used to work together."

His smile did not fade, and his dark eyes twinkled with merriment. "Amigos, si´. I understand. Is none of my business."

Embarrassed, she looked away to hide her reddening face.

Laughing heartily, Miguel returned to the front of the Cessna to share a laugh with his cousin. Her face flamed with humiliation, understanding that they were sharing a private joke at her expense. Putting their amusement out of her mind, Ellie rested her forehead on the cool Plexiglas window, and squinted across the rippling, shimmering water toward the horizon.

The last time she had seen Alan had been eight months ago. He had been in Arlington to speak at a local university in an attempt to obtain funding for his dig site in Montana. The fundraiser had been a devastating failure for him, but he had dropped by the house for a brief visit, his first since her marriage, five years earlier.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes. How she had cherished those few hours with him! At her insistence, he had agreed to stay for supper, but all too soon his visit was over. As she had watched him drive away in his rental car, an empty spot in her heart had filled with a lonely ache, longing for what might have been if only he had loved her as she had loved him. Never once had he spoken those words she had so longed to hear.

She had loved her husband, but she knew her mother had been correct in the statement that she had unresolved feelings for the charismatic paleontologist. Even when Mark was alive, Alan had crept into her thoughts and into her conversations. With a pang of guilt, she wondered if Mark had been aware of those deep obsessive feelings she had possessed for another man, a man she had never quite gotten over. If he had, he had never spoken of them, apparently trusting her to work through them.

Then again, perhaps he had been too busy to notice. Like Alan, Mark’s time had frequently been consumed by his work. His position at the State Department was not nine to five. It had been necessary for him to be available when needed. Many meals and birthday parties had been interrupted when he had been called away on some emergency that required his attention.

Less than a week after his visit, Alan had called her on a satellite phone with a brief but desperate cry for help. "Ellie!" he had shouted to be heard over the angry roar of a huge carnivore that had almost drowned out his voice. "Site B!" At that moment, the call had been disconnected, striking immediate fear in her heart for his safety. She knew where he was, and that he was in mortal danger.

She had summoned her husband, Mark, for help, and he had given it, sending squadrons of navy and marines to the island to rescue the survivors of the expedition, but her worry did not abate until she heard Alan’s voice on the phone, assuring her of his well-being, and thanking her for her quick action. She had saved his life, he had told her gratefully. She had sensed something else in his voice, something on his mind that he wanted to say to her, but in the end, it had remained unspoken. She had not spoken to him since. A few months later, her entire world had caved in around her, and Alan had not so much as phoned to offer his condolences. Although she had defended him against her mother’s criticism, she was beginning to wonder if Ilene had been correct. Perhaps Alan really didn’t care for her as she had believed.

She felt a hand on her arm, and she raised her head, startled by the touch. Miguel was leaning over her, concern on his dark face.

"Are you ill, Señora?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, I’m all right."

"Are you sure? You no look so good."

She managed a weak smile. "I’m fine. How much longer?"

"That’s what I come to tell you. You can see it from here." He raised his arm, pointing out the cockpit window.

Ellie rose slowly to her feet, clinging to the seatbacks for support as she made her way toward the front of the plane to stare at the swatch of land that had appeared on the western horizon. At first, it was little more than a gray shadow lying on top of the brilliant blue of the ocean, but as they drew nearer, the topographical characteristics began to take shape.

In appearance, Isla Sorna was very similar to Isla Nublar, but on a much larger scale. She had known that it would have to be larger to support the colonies of large plant eaters. She could see the dense forests that blanketed the slopes and rises, a beautiful, rugged wilderness that belied the savagery of the creatures that inhabited it.

Eustacio began talking excitedly, inciting alarm in the woman who could not understand what he was saying.

She turned to Miguel. "What’s wrong?"

Miguel pointed to a dark object that was flying toward them from the island.

She looked, but did not instantly understand his concern. The object appeared to be nothing more than a large bird skimming the surface for fish. At first, the bird seemed to fly aimlessly, changing direction and speed, an action typical of a sea gull or pelican searching the shallows for fish.

Finally, the creature spied the Cessna and moved in for a closer look. It’s long wings lifted and soared, carrying it effortlessly on the currents and updrafts above the water. It slowed as it neared the Cessna, its eyes curiously observing the aircraft. It was much larger than a gull or a pelican, and Ellie felt a jolt, recognizing the creature for what it was. The featherless body, the long leathery, bat like wings, and the conical protrusion on its head left no doubt that this was another of InGen’s unholy creations, and was likely the creature that had inspired Alan‘s concerns about possible migration from the island.

"Oh, my God!" she gasped in disbelief.

She sat down and pressed her face against the window to watch with mute fascination as the Pteranodon tilted its head to look at her with a yellow eye as it soared past. She saw its beak open as it uttered a malevolent cry that Ellie could not hear through the thick window, then it moved off, apparently having lost interest, or perhaps realizing that it could not reach the humans inside. A moment later, it dipped one clawed foot beneath the water’s surface, and withdrew a large fish. With the fish clutched in its grasp, it shifted direction back to the island.

"The first time we came, they swarmed around us," Miguel explained. "We thought they were going to attack the plane, but they backed off. Since then, they no bother us. They just look, and then fly away."

Ellie’s heart was pounding with the unexpected excitement and astonishment of seeing the winged beast. "A Pteranodon!" she exclaimed. "I never expected to see one!"

Miguel nodded. "Si´. That’s what Señor Grant called them. You must be careful. Maybe they could carry you off, eh?"

"Maybe," she responded.

The Cessna was nearing the island. They were near enough, now, to see the pristine sandy beaches, unmarred by trash and other garbage discarded by humans in civilization. Beyond the beach was the primeval forest.

The airplane soared over the beach and over the lush green forests until they found the narrow airstrip that cut a concrete path through a long meadow.

Ellie felt somewhat surprised to see the long strip of concrete in the middle of such a primitive place, a reminder of the purpose it had served during InGen‘s days of research and creativity.

The pilot gradually reduced altitude, and came in for the landing. It glided to a stop, and Miguel opened the hatch and stepped outside on the top step to look around, as if reluctant to leave the shelter of the aircraft. Ellie knew the airplane would be little protection against a T-Rex attack, but she made no comment as she joined him at the door.

There was no sign of Alan.

Fear gripped Ellie’s heart. "I don’t see him," she said, speaking almost in Miguel’s ear from behind.

He jumped, alarmed by at her abrupt comment, and glanced at her over his shoulder.

"Maybe he be late," he suggested.

"Alan’s never late for anything," Ellie replied, anxiously.

Eustacio crowded close to his cousin, and the American woman, and all three stared at the treeline, searching for any indication of human life. All they saw was the fronds and leaves waving softly in the gentle breeze. There was no sound, only an intense, eerie silence.