In the lobby of the visitor center, the glass doors had been shattered, and a cold gray mist blew through the cavernous main hall. A sign that read WHEN DINOSAURS RULED THE EARTH dangled from one hinge, creaking in the wind. The big tyrannosaur robot was upended and lay with its legs in the air, its tubing and metal innards exposed. Outside, through the glass, they saw rows of palm trees, shadowy shapes in the fog. Tim and Lex huddled against the metal desk of the security guard. Grant took the guard's radio and tried all the channels. "Hello, this is Grant. Is anybody there? Hello, this is Grant." Lex stared at the body of the guard, lying on the floor to the right. She couldn't see anything but his legs and feet. "Hello, this is Grant. Hello." Lex was leaning forward, peering around the edge of the desk. Grant grabbed her sleeve. "Hey. Stop that." "Is he dead? What's that stuff on the floor? Blood?" "Yes." "How come it isn't real red?" "You're morbid," Tim said. "What's 'morbid'? I am not." The radio crackled. "My God," came a voice. "Grant? Is that you?" And then: "Alan? Alan?" It was Ellie. "I'm here," Grant said. "Thank God," Ellie said. "Are you all right?" "I'm all right, yes." "What about the kids? Have you seen them?" "I have the kids with me," Grant said. "They're okay." "Thank God." Lex was crawling around the side of the desk. Grant slapped her ankle. "Get back here." The radio crackled. "-n where are you?" "In the lobby. In the lobby of the main building." Over the radio, he heard Wu say, "My God. They're here." "Alan, listen," Ellie said. "The raptors have gotten loose. They can open doors. They may be in the same building as you." "Great. Where are you?" Grant said. "We're in the lodge." Grant said, "And the others? Muldoon, everybody else?" "We've lost a few people. But we got everybody else over to the lodge." "And are the telephones working?" "No. The whole system is shut off. Nothing works." 'How do we get the system back on?" "We've been trying." "We have to get it back on," Grant said, "right away. If we don't, within half an hour the raptors will reach the mainland." He started to explain about the boat when Muldoon cut him off. "I don't think you understand, Dr. Grant. We haven't got half an hour left, over here." "How's that?" "Some of the raptors followed us. We've got two on the roof now." "So what? The building's impregnable." Muldoon coughed, "Apparently not. It was never expected that animals would get up on the roof." The radio crackled. "-must have planted a tree too close to the fence. The raptors got over the fence, and onto the roof. Anyway, the steel bars on the skylight are supposed to be electrified, but of course the power's off. They're biting through the bars of the skylight." Grant said, "Biting through the bars?" He frowned, trying to imagine it, "How fast?" "Yes," Muldoon said, "they have a bite pressure of fifteen thousand pounds a square inch. They're like hyenas, they can bite through steel and-" The transmission was lost for a moment. "How fast?" Grant said again. Muldoon said, "I'd guess we've got another ten, fifteen minutes before they break through completely and come through the skylight into the building. And once they're in . . . Ah, just a minute, Dr. Grant." The radio clicked off.
In the skylight above Malcolm's bed, the raptors had chewed through the first of the steel bars. One raptor gripped the end of the bar and tugged, pulling it back. It put its powerful hind limb on the skylight and the glass shattered, glittering down on Malcolm's bed below. Ellie reached over and removed the largest fragments from the sheets. "God, they're ugly," Malcolm said, looking up. Now that the glass was broken, they could hear the snorts and snarls of the raptors, the squeal of their teeth on the metal as they chewed the bars. There were silver thinned sections where they had chewed. Foamy saliva spattered onto the sheets, and the bedside table. "At least they can't get in yet," Ellie said. "Not until they chew through another bar." Wu said, "If Grant could somehow get to the maintenance shed . . ." "Bloody hell," Muldoon said. He limped around the room on his sprained ankle. "He can't get there fast enough. He can't get the power on fast enough. Not to stop this." Malcolm coughed. "Yes." His voice was soft, almost a wheeze. "What'd he say?" Muldoon said. "Yes," Malcolm repeated. "Can . . ." "Can what?" "Distraction . . ." He winced. "What kind of a distraction?" "Go to the fence. . . ." "Yes? And do what?" Malcolm grinned weakly. "Stick . . . your hands through." "Oh Christ," Muldoon said, turning away. "Wait a minute," Wu said. "He's right. There are only two raptors here. Which means there are at least four more out there. We could go out and provide a distraction." "And then what?" "And then Grant would be free to go to the maintenance building and turn on the generator." "And then go back to the control room and start up the system?" "Exactly." "No time," Muldoon said. "No time." "But if we can lure the raptors down here," Wu said, "maybe even get them away from that skylight. It might work. Worth a try." "Bait," Muldoon said. "Exactly." "Who's going to be the bait? I'm no good. My ankle's shot." "I'll do it," Wu said. "No," Muldoon said. "You're the only one who knows what to do about the computer. You need to talk Grant through the start-up." "Then I'll do it," Harding said. "No," Ellie said. "Malcolm needs you. I'll do it." "Hell, I don't think so," Muldoon said. "You'd have raptors all around you, raptors on the roof. . . . " But she was already bending over, lacing her running shoes. "Just don't tell Grant," she said. "It'll make him nervous."
The lobby was quiet, chilly fog drifting past them. The radio had been silent for several minutes. Tim said, "Why aren't they talking to us?" "I'm hungry," Lex said. "They're trying to plan," Grant said. The radio crackled. "Grant, are you-nry Wu speaking. Are you there?" "I'm here," Grant said. "Listen," Wu said. "Can you see to the rear of the visitor building from where you are?" Grant looked through the rear glass doors, to the palm trees and the fog. "Yes," Grant said. Wu said, "There's a path straight through the palm trees to the maintenance building. That's where the power equipment and generators are. I believe you saw the maintenance building yesterday?" "Yes," Grant said. Though he was momentarily puzzled. Was it yesterday that he had looked into the building? It seemed like years ago. "Now, listen," Wu said. "We think we can get all the raptors down here by the lodge, but we aren't sure. So be careful. Give us five minutes." "Okay," Grant said. "You can leave the kids in the cafeteria, and they should be all right. Take the radio with you when you go." "Okay." "Turn it off before you leave, so it doesn't make any noise outside. And call me when you get to the maintenance building." "Okay." Grant turned the radio off. Lex crawled back. "Are we going to the cafeteria?" she said. "Yes," Grant said. They got up, and started walking through the blowing mist in the lobby. "I want a hamburger," Lex said. "I don't think there's any electricity to cook with." "Then ice cream." "Tim, you'll have to stay with her and help her." "I will." "I've got to leave for a while," Grant said. "I know." They moved to the cafeteria entrance. On opening the door, Grant saw square dining-room tables and chairs, swinging stainless-steel doors beyond. Nearby, a cash register and a rack with gum and candy. "Okay, kids. I want you to stay here no matter what. Got it?" "Leave us the radio," Lex said. "I can't. I need it. Just stay here. I'll only be gone about five minutes. Okay?" "Okay." Grant closed the door. The cafeteria became completely dark. Lex clutched his hand, "Turn on the lights," she said. "I can't," Tim said. "There's no electricity." But he pulled down his night-vistion goggles. "That's fine for you. What about me?" "Just hold my hand. We'll get some food." He led her forward. In phosphorescent green he saw the tables and chairs. To the right, the glowing green cash register, and the rack with gum and candy. He grabbed a handful of candy bars. "I told you," Lex said. "I want ice cream, not candy." "Take these anyway." "Ice cream, Tim." "Okay, okay." Tim stuffed the candy bars in his pocket, and led Lex deeper into the dining room. She tugged on his band. "I can't see spit," she said. "Just walk with me. Hold my hand." "Then slow down." Beyond the tables and chairs was a pair of swinging doors with little round windows in them. They probably led to the kitchen. He pushed one door open and it held wide.
Ellie Sattler stepped outside the front door to the lodge, and felt the chilly mist on her face and legs. Her heart was thumping, even though she knew she was completely safe behind the fence. Directly ahead, she saw the heavy bars in the fog. But she couldn't see much beyond the fence. Another twenty yards before the landscape turned milky white. And she didn't see any raptors at all. In fact, the gardens and trees were almost eerily silent. "Hey!" she shouted into the fog, tentatively. Muldoon leaned against the door frame. "I doubt that'll do it," he said. "You've got to make a noise. " He hobbled out carrying a steel rod from the construction inside. He banged the rod against the bars like a dinner gong. "Come and get it! Dinner is served!" "Very amusing," Ellie said. She glanced nervously toward the roof. She saw no raptors. "They don't understand English." Muldoon grinned. "But I imagine they get the general idea. . . ." She was still nervous, and found his humor annoying. She looked toward the visitor building, cloaked in the fog. Muldoon resumed banging on the bars. At the limit of her vision, almost lost in the fog, she saw a ghostly pale animal. A raptor. "First customer," Muldoon said. The raptor disappeared, a white shadow and then came back, but it did not approach any closer, and it seemed strangely incurious about the noise coming from the lodge. She was starting to worry. Unless she could attract the raptors to the lodge, Grant would be in danger. "You're making too much noise," Ellie said. 'Bloody hell," Muldoon said. "Well, you are." "I know these animals-" "You're drunk," she said. "Let me handle it." "And how will you do that?" She didn't answer him. She went to the gate. "They say the raptors are intelligent." "They are. At least as intelligent as chimps." "They have good hearing?" "Yes, excellent." "Maybe they'll know this sound," she said, and opened the gate. The metal hinges, rusted from the constant mist, creaked loudly. She closed it again, opened it with another creak. She left it open. "I wouldn't do that," Muldoon said. "You're going to do that, let me get the launcher." "Get the launcher." He sighed, remembering. "Gennaro has the shells." "Well, then," she said. "Keep an eye out." And she went through the gate, stepping outside the bars. Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely feel her feet on the dirt. She moved away from the fence, and it disappeared frighteningly fast in the fog. Soon it was lost behind her. Just as she expected, Muldoon began shouting to her in drunken agitation. "God damn it, girl, don't you do that," he bellowed. "Don't call me 'girl,"' she shouted back. "I'll call you any damn thing I want," Muldoon shouted. She wasn't listening. She was turning slowly, her body tense, watching from all sides. She was at least twenty yards from the fence now, and she could see the mist drifting like a light rain past the foliage. She stayed away from the foliage. She moved through a world of shades of gray. The muscles in her legs and shoulders ached from the tension. Her eyes strained to see. "Do you hear me, damn it?" Muldoon bellowed. How good are these animals? she wondered. Good enough to cut off my retreat? There wasn't much distance back to the fence, not really- They attacked. There was no sound. The first animal charged from the foliage at the base of a tree to the left. It sprang forward and she turned to run. The second attacked from the other side, clearly intending to catch her as she ran, and it leapt into the air, claws raised to attack, and she darted like a broken field runner, and the animal crashed down in the dirt. Now she was running flat out, not daring to look back, her breaths coming in deep gasps, seeing the bars of the fence emerge from the haze, seeing Muldoon throw the gate wide, seeing him reaching for her, shouting to her, grabbing her arm and pulling her through so hard she was yanked off her feet and fell to the ground. And she turned in time to see first one, then two-then tbree-animals hit the fence and snarl. "Good work," Muldoon shouted. He was taunting the animals now, snarling back, and it drove them wild. They flung themselves at the fence, leaping forward, and one of them nearly made it over the top. "Christ, that was close! These bastards can jump!" She got to her feet, looking at the scrapes and bruises, the blood running down her leg. All she could think was: three animals here. And two on the roof. That meant one was still missing, somewhere. "Come on, help me," Muldoon said. "Let's keep 'em interested!"
Grant left the visitor center and moved quickly forward, into the mist. He found the path among the palm trees and followed it north. Up ahead, the rectangular maintenance shed emerged from the fog. There was no door that he could see at all. He walked on, around the corner. At the back, screened by planting, Grant saw a concrete loading dock for trucks. He scrambled up to face a vertical rolling door of corrugated steel; it was locked. He jumped down again and continued around the building. Farther ahead, to his right, Grant saw an ordinary door. It was propped open with a man's shoe. Grant stepped inside and squinted in the darkness. He listened, heard nothing. He picked up his radio and turned it on. "This is Grant," he said. "I'm inside."
Wu looked up at the skylight. The two raptors still peered down into Malcolm's room, but they seemed distracted by the noises outside. He went to the lodge window. Outside, the three velociraptors continued to charge the fence. Ellie was running back and forth, safely behind the bars. But the raptors no longer seemed to be seriously trying to get her. Now they almost seemed to be playing, circling back from the fence, rearing up and snarling, then dropping down low, to circle again and finally charge. Their behavior had taken on the distinct quality of display, rather than serious attack. "Like birds," Muldoon said. "Putting on a show." Wu nodded. "They're intelligent. They see they can't get her. They're not really trying." The radio crackled. "-side." Wu gripped the radio. "Say again, Dr. Grant?" "I'm inside," Grant said. "Dr. Grant, you're in the maintenance building?" "Yes," Grant said. And he added, "Maybe you should call me Alan." "All right, Alan. If you're standing just inside the cast door, you see a lot of pipes and tubing." Wu closed his eyes, visualizing it, "Straight ahead is a big recessed well in the center of the building that goes two stories underground. To your left is a metal walkway with railings." "I see it." "Go along the walkway." "I'm going." Faintly, the radio carried the clang of his footsteps on metal. "After you go twenty or thirty feet, you'll see another walkway going right." "I see it," Grant said. "Follow that walkway." "Okay." "As you continue," Wu said, "you will come to a ladder on your left. Going down into the pit." "I see it." "Go down the ladder." There was a long pause. Wu ran his fingers through his damp hair, Muldoon frowned tensely. "Okay, I'm down the ladder," Grant said. "Good," Wu said. "Now, straight ahead of you should be two large yellow tanks that are marked 'Flammable.' " "They say 'In-flammable.' And then something underneath. In Spanish." "Those are the ones," Wu said. "Those are the two fuel tanks for the generator. One of them has been run dry, and so we have to switch over to the other. If you look at the bottom of the tanks, you'll see a white pipe coming out." "Four-inch PVC?" "Yes. PVC. Follow that pipe as it goes back." "Okay. I'm following it. . . Ow!" "What happened?" "Nothing. I hit my head." There was a pause. "Are you all right?" "Yeah, fine. Just . . . hurt my head. Stupid." "Keep following the pipe." "Okay, okay," Grant said. He sounded irritable. "Okay. The pipe goes to a big aluminum box with air vents in the sides. Says 'Honda.' It looks like the generator." "Yes," Wu said. "That's the generator. If you walk around to the side, you'll see a panel with two buttons." "I see them. Yellow and red?" "That's right," Wu said. "Press the yellow one first, and while you hold it down, press the red one." "Right." There was another pause. It lasted almost a minute. Wu and Muldoon looked at each other. "Alan?" "It didn't work," Grant said. "Did you hold down the yellow first and then press the red?" Wu asked. "Yes, I did," Grant said. He sounded annoyed. "I did exactly what you told me to do. There was a hum, and then a click, click, click, very fast, and then the hum stopped, and nothing after that." "Try it again." "I already did," Grant said. "It didn't work." "Okay, just a minute." Wu frowned. "It sounds like the generator is trying to fire up but it can't for some reason. Alan?" "I'm here." "Go around to the back of the generator, to where the plastic pipe runs in. " "Okay." A pause; then Grant said, "The pipe goes into a round black cylinder that looks like a fuel pump." "That's right," Wu said. "That's exactly what it is. It's the fuel pump. Look for a little valve at the top." "A valve?" "It should be sticking up at the top, with a little metal tab that you can turn." "I found it. But it's on the side, not the top." "Okay. Twist it open." "Air is coming out." "Good. Wait until-" "-now liquid is coming out. It smells like gas." "Okay. Close the valve." Wu turned to Muldoon, shaking his head. "Pump lost its prime. Alan?" "Yes." "Try the buttons again." A moment later, Wu heard the faint coughing and sputtering as the generator turned over, and then the steady chugging sound as it caught. "It's on," Grant said. "Good work, Alan! Good work!" "Now what?" Grant said. He sounded flat, dull. "The lights haven't even come on in here." "Go back to the control room, and I'll talk you through restoring the systems manually." "That's what I have to do now?" " Yes." "Okay," Grant said. "I'll call you when I get there." There was a final hiss, and silence. "Alan?" The radio was dead.
Tim went through the swinging doors at the back of the dining room and entered the kitchen. A big stainless-steel table in the center of the room, a big stove with lots of burners to the left, and, beyond that, big walk-in refrigerators. Tim started opening the refrigerators, looking for ice cream. Smoke came out in the humid air as he opened each one. "How come the stove is on?" Lex said, releasing his hand. "It's not on." "They all have little blue flames." "Those're pilot lights." "What're pilot lights?" They had an electric stove at home. "Never mind," Tim said, opening another refrigerator. "But it means I can cook you something." In this next refrigerator, he found all kinds of stuff, cartons of milk, and piles of vegetables, and a stack of T-bone steaks, fish-but no ice cream. "You still want ice cream?" "I told you, didn't I?" The next refrigerator was huge. A stainless steel door, with a wide horizontal handle. He tugged on the handle, pulled it open, and saw a walk-in freezer. It was a whole room, and it was freezing cold. "Timmy . . ." "Will you wait a minute?" he said, annoyed. "I'm trying to find your ice cream. "Timmy . . . something's here." She was whispering, and for a moment the last two words didn't register. Then Tim hurried back out of the freezer, seeing the edge of the wreathed in glowing green smoke. Lex stood by the steel worktable. She was looking back to the kitchen door. He heard a low hissing sound, like a very large snake. The sound rose and fell softly. It was hardly audible. It might even be the wind, but he somehow knew it wasn't. "Timmy," she whispered, "I'm scared." He crept forward to the kitchen door and looked out. In the darkened dining room, he saw the orderly green rectangular pattern of the tabletops. And moving smoothly among them, silent as a ghost except for the hissing of its breath, was a velociraptor.
In the darkness of the maintenance room, Grant felt along the pipes, moving back toward the ladder. It was difficult to make his way in the dark, and somehow he found the noise of the generator disorienting. He came to the ladder, and had started back up when he realized there was something else in the room besides generator noise. Grant paused, listening. It was a man shouting. It sounded like Gennaro. "Where are you?" Grant shouted. "Over here, " Gennaro said. "In the truck." Grant couldn't see any truck. He squinted in the darkness. He looked out of the corner of his eye. He saw green glowing shapes, moving in the darkness. Then he saw the truck, and he turned toward it.
Tim found the silence chilling. The velociraptor was six feet tall, and powerfully built, although its strong legs and tail were hidden by the tables. Tim could see only the muscular upper torso, the two forearms held tightly alongside the body, the claws dangling. He could see the iridescent speckled pattern on the back. The velociraptor was alert; as it came forward, it looked from side to side, moving its head with abrupt, bird-like jerks. The head also bobbed up and down as it walked, and the long straight tail dipped, which heightened the impression of a bird. A gigantic, silent bird of prey. The dining room was dark, but apparently the raptor could see well enough to move steadily forward. From time to time, it would bend over, lowering its head below the tables. Tim heard a rapid sniffing sound. Then the head would snap up, alertly, jerking back and fortb like a bird's. Tim watched until he was sure the velociraptor was coming toward the kitchen. Was it following their scent? All the books said dinosaurs had a poor sense of smell, but this one seemed to do just fine. Anyway, what did books know? Here was the real thing. Coming toward him. He ducked back into the kitchen. "Is something out there?" Lex said. Tim didn't answer. He pushed her under a table in the corner, behind a large waste bin. He leaned close to her and whispered fiercely: "Stay here!" And then he ran for the refrigerator. He grabbed a handful of cold steaks and hurried back to the door. He quietly placed the first of the steaks on the floor, then moved back a few steps, and put down the second. . . . Through his goggles, he saw Lex peeping around the bin. He waved her back. He placed the third steak, and the fourth, moving deeper into the kitchen. The hissing was louder, and then the clawed hand gripped the door, and the big head peered cautiously around. The velociraptor paused at the entrance to the kitchen. Tim stood in a half-crouch at the back of the room, near the far leg of the steel worktable. But he had not had time to conceal himself; his head and shoulders still protruded over the tabletop. He was in clear view of the velociraptor. Slowly, Tim lowered his body, sinking beneath the table. . . . The velociraptor jerked its head around, looking directly at Tim. Tim froze. He was still exposed, but he thought, Don't move. The velociraptor stood motionless in the doorway. Sniffing. It's darker here, Tim thought. He can't see so well. It's making him cautious. But now he could smell the musty odor of the big reptile, and through his goggles he saw the dinosaur silently yawn, throwing back its long snout, exposing rows of razor-sharp teeth. The velociraptor stared forward again, jerking its head from side to side. The big eyes swiveled in the bony sockets. Tim felt his heart pounding. Somehow it was worse to be confronted by an animal like this in a kitchen, instead of the open forest. The size, the quick movements, the pungent odor, the hissing breath . . . Up close, it was a much more frightening animal than the tyrannosaur. The Tyrannosaur was huge and powerful, but it wasn't especially smart. The velociraptor was man-size, and it was clearly quick and intelligent; Tim feared the searching eyes almost as much as the sharp teeth. The velociraptor sniffed. It stepped forward-moving directly toward Lex! It must smell her, somehow! Tim's heart thumped. The velociraptor stopped. It bent over slowly. He's found the steak. Tim wanted to bend down, to look below the table, but he didn't dare move. He stood frozen in a half-crouch, listening to the crunching sound. The dinosaur was eating it. Bones and all. The raptor raised its slender head, and looked around. It sniffed. It saw the second steak. It moved quickly forward. It bent down. Silence. The raptor didn't eat it. The head came back up. Tim's legs burned from the crouch, but he didn't move. Why hadn't the animal eaten the second steak? A dozen ideas flashed through his mind-it didn't like the taste of beef, it didn't like the coldness, it didn't like the fact that the meat wasn't alive, it smelled a trap, it smelled Lex, it smelled Tim, it saw Tim- The velociraptor moved very quickly now. It found the third steak, dipped its head, looked up again, and moved on. Tim held his breath. The dinosaur was now just a few feet from him, Tim could see the small twitches in the muscles of the flanks. He could see the crusted blood on the claws of the hand. He could see the fine pattern of striations within the spotted pattern, and the folds of skin in the neck below the jaw. The velociraptor sniffed. It jerked its head, and looked right at Tim. Tim nearly gasped with fright. Tim's body was rigid, tense. He watched as the reptile eye moved, scanning the room. Another sniff. He's got me, Tim thought. Then the head jerked back to look forward, and the animal went on, toward the fifth steak. Tim thought, Lex please don't move please don't move whatever you do please don't . . . The velociraptor sniffed the steak, and moved on. It was now at the open door to the freezer. Tim could see the smoke billowing out, curling along the floor toward the animal's feet. One big clawed foot lifted, then came down again, silently. The dinosaur hesitated. Too cold, Tim thought. He won't go in there, it's too cold, he won't go in he won't go in he won't go in. . . . The dinosaur went in. The head disappeared, then the body, then the stiff tail. Tim sprinted, flinging his weight against the stainless-steel door of the locker, slamming it shut. It slammed on the tip of the tail! The door wouldn't shut! The velociraptor roared, a terrifying loud sound. Inadvertently, Tim took a step back-the tail was gone! He slammed the door shut and heard it click! Closed! "Lex! Lex!" he was screaming. He heard the raptor pounding against the door, felt it thumping the steel. He knew there was a flat steel knob inside, and if the raptor hit that, it would knock the door open. They had to get the door locked. "Lex!" Lex was by his side. "What do you want!" Tim leaned against the horizontal door handle, holding it shut. "There's a pin! A little pin! Get the pin!" The velociraptor roared like a lion, the sound muffled by the thick steel. It crashed its whole body against the door. "I can't see anything!" Lex shouted. The pin was dangling beneath the door handle, swinging on a little metal chain. "It's right there!" "I can't see it!" she screamed, and then Tim realized she wasn't wearing the goggles. "Feel for it!" He saw her little hand reaching up, touching his, groping for the pin, and with her so close to him he could feel how frightened she was, her breath in little panicky gasps as she felt for the pin, and the velociraptor slammed against the door and it opened-God, it opened-but the animal hadn't expected that and had already turned back for another try and Tim slammed the door shut again. Lex scrambled back, reached up in the darkness. "I have it!" Lex cried, clutching the pin in her hand, and she pushed it through the hole. It slid out again. "From the top, put it in from the top!" She held it again, lifting it on the chain, swinging it over the handle, and down. Into the hole. Locked. The velociraptor roared. Tim and Lex stepped back from the door as the dinosaur slammed into it again. With each impact, the heavy steel wall hinges creaked, but they held. Tim didn't think the animal could possibly open the door. The raptor was locked in. He gave a long sigh. "Let's go," he said. He took her hand, and they ran.
"You should have seen them," Gennaro said, as Grant led him back out of the maintenance building. "There must have been two dozen of them. Compys. I had to crawl into the truck to get away from them. They were all over the windshield. Just squatting there, waiting like buzzards. But they ran away when you came over." "Scavengers," Grant said. "They won't attack anything that's moving or looks strong. They attack things that are dead, or almost dead. Anyway, unmoving." They were going up the ladder now, back toward the entrance door. "What happened to the raptor that attacked you?" Grant said. "I don't know," Gennaro said. "Did it leave?" "I didn't see. I got away, I think because it was injured. I think Muldoon shot it in the leg and it was bleeding while it was in here. Then . . . I don't know. Maybe it went back outside. Maybe it died in here. I didn't see." "And maybe it's still in here," Grant said.
Wu stared out the lodge window at the raptors beyond the fence. They still seemed playful, making mock attacks at Ellie. The behavior had continued for a long time now, and it occurred to him that it might be too long. It almost seemed as if they were trying to keep Ellie's attention, in the same way that she was trying to keep theirs. The behavior of the dinosaurs had always been a minor consideration for Wu. And rightly so: behavior was a second-order effect of DNA, like protein enfolding. You couldn't really predict behavior, and you couldn't really control it, except in very crude ways, like making an animal dependent on a dietary substance by withholding an enzyme. But, in general, behavioral effects were simply beyond the reach of understanding. You couldn't look at a DNA sequence and predict behavior. It was impossible. And that had made Wu's DNA work purely empirical. It was a matter of tinkering, the way a modern workman might repair an antique grandfather clock. You were dealing with something out of the past, something constructed of ancient materials and following ancient rules. You couldn't be certain why it worked as it did, and it had been repaired and modified many times already, by forces of evolution, over eons of time. So, like the workman who makes an adjustment and then sees if the clock runs any better, Wu would make an adjustment and then see if the animals behaved any better. And he only tried to correct gross behavior: uncontrolled butting of the electrical fences, or rubbing the skin raw on tree trunks. Those were the behaviors that sent him back to the drawing board. And the limits of his science had left him with a mysterious feeling about the dinosaurs in the park. He was never sure, never really sure at all, whether the behavior of the animals was historically accurate or not. Were they behaving as they really had in the past? It was an open question, ultimately unanswerable. And though Wu would never admit it, the discovery that the dinosaurs were breeding represented a tremendous validation of his work. A breeding animal was demonstrably effective in a fundamental way; it implied that Wu had put all the pieces together correctly. He had re-created an animal millions of years old, with such precision that the creature could even reproduce itself. But, still, looking at the raptors outside, he was troubled by the persistence of their behavior. Raptors were intelligent, and intelligent animals got bored quickly. Intelligent animals also formed plans, and- Harding came out into the hallway from Malcolm's room. "Where's Ellie?" "Still outside." "Better get her in. The raptors have left the skylight." "When?" Wu said, moving to the door. "Just a moment ago," Harding said. Wu threw open the front door. "Ellie! Inside, now!" She looked over at him, puzzled. "There's no problem, everything's under control. . . ." "Now!" She shook her head. "I know what I'm doing," she said. "Now, Ellie, damn it!" Muldoon didn't like Wu standing there with the door open, and he was about to say so, when he saw a shadow descend from above, and he realized at once what had happened. Wu was yanked bodily out the door, and Muldoon heard Ellie screaming. Muldoon got to the door and looked out and saw that Wu was lying on his back, his body already torn open by the big claw, and the raptor was jerking its head, tugging at Wu's intestines even though Wu was still alive, still feebly reaching up with his hands to push the big head away, he was being eaten while he was still alive, and then Ellie stopped screaming and started to run along the inside of the fence, and Muldoon slammed the door shut, dizzy with horror. It had happened so fast! Harding said, "He jumped down from the roof?" Muldoon nodded. He went to the window and looked out, and he saw that the three raptors outside the fence were now running away. But they weren't following Ellie. They were going back, toward the visitor center.
Grant came to the edge of the maintenance building and peered forward, in the fog. He could hear the snarls of the raptors, and they seemed to be coming closer. Now he could see their bodies running past him. They were going to the visitor center. He looked back at Gennaro. Gennaro shook his head, no. Grant leaned close and whispered in his ear. "No choice. We've got to turn on the computer." Grant set out in the fog. After a moment, Gennaro followed.
Ellie didn't stop to think. When the raptors dropped inside the fence to attack Wu, she just turned and ran, as fast as she could, toward the far end of the lodge. There was a space fifteen feet wide between the fence and the lodge. She ran, not hearing the animals pursuing her, just hearing her own breath. She rounded the corner, saw a tree growing by the side of the building, and leapt, grabbing a branch, swinging up. She didn't feel panic. She felt a kind of exhilaration as she kicked and saw her legs rise up In front of her face, and she hooked her legs over a branch farther up, tightened her gut, and pulled up quickly. She was already twelve feet off the ground, and the raptors still weren't following her, and she was beginning to feel pretty good, when she saw the first animal at the base of the tree. Its mouth was bloody, and bits of stringy flesh hung from its jaws. She continued to go up fast, hand over hand, just reaching and going, and she could almost see the top of the building. She looked down again. The two raptors were climbing the tree. Now she was at the level of the rooftop, she could see the gravel only four feet away, and the glass pyramids of the skylights, sticking up in the mist. There was a door on the roof; she could get inside. In a single heaving effort she flung herself through the air, and landed sprawling on the gravel. She scraped her face, but somehow the only sensation was exhilaration, as if it were a kind of game she was playing, a game she intended to win. She ran for the door that led to the stairwell. Behind her, she could hear the raptors shaking the branches of the tree. They were still in the tree. She reached the door, and twisted the knob. The door was locked. It took a moment for the meaning of that to cut through her euphoria. The door was locked. She was on the roof and she couldn't get down. The door was locked. She pounded on the door in frustration, and then she ran for the far side of the roof, hoping to see a way down, but there was only the green outline of the swimming pool through the blowing mist. All around the pool was concrete decking. Ten, twelve feet of concrete. Too much for her to jump across. No other trees to climb down. No stairs. No fire escape. Nothing. Ellie turned back, and saw the raptors jumping easily to the roof. She ran to the far end of the building, hoping there might be another door there, but there wasn't. The raptors came slowly toward her, stalking her, slipping silently among the glass pyramids. She looked down. The edge of the pool was ten feet away. Too far. The raptors were closer, starting to move apart, and illogically she thought: Isn't this always the way? Some little mistake screws it all up. She still felt giddy, still felt exhilaration, and she somehow couldn't believe these animals were going to get her, she couldn't believe that now her life was going to end like this. It didn't seem possible. She was enveloped in a kind of protective cheerfulness. She just didn't believe it would happen. The raptors snarled. Ellie backed away, moving to the far end of the roof. She took a breath, and then began to sprint toward the edge. As she raced toward the edge, she saw the swimming pool, and she knew it was too far away but she thought, What the hell, and leapt into space. And fell. And with a stinging shock, she felt herself enveloped in coldness. She was underwater. She had done it! She came to the surface and looked up at the roof, and saw the raptors looking down at her. And she knew that, if she could do it, the raptors could do it, too. She splashed in the water and thought, Can raptors swim? But she was sure they could. They could probably swim like crocodiles. The raptors turned away from the edge of the roof. And then she heard Harding calling "Sattler?" and she realized he had opened the roof door. The raptors were going toward him. Hurriedly, she climbed out of the pool and ran toward the lodge.
Harding had gone up the steps to the roof two at a time, and he had flung open the door without thinking. "Sattler!" he shouted. And then he stopped. Mist blew among the pyramids on the roof. The raptors were not in sight. "Sattler!" He was so preoccupied with Sattler that it was a moment before he realized his mistake. He should be able to see the animals, he thought. In the next instant the clawed forearm smashed around the side of the door, catching him in the chest with a tearing pain, and it took all of his effort to pull himself backward and close the door on the arm, and from downstairs he heard Muldoon sbouting, "She's here, she's already inside." From the other side of the door, the raptor snarled, and Harding slammed the door again, and the claws pulled back, and he closed the door with a metallic clang and sank coughing to the floor.
"Where are we going?" Lex said. They were on the second floor of the visitor center. A glass-walled corridor ran the length of the building. "To the control room , Tim said. "Where's that?" "Down here someplace." Tim looked at the names stenciled on the doors as he went past them. These seemed to be offices: PARK WARDEN GUEST SERVICES . . . GENERAL MANAGER . . . COMPTROLLER . . . They came to a glass partition marked with a sign:
CLOSED AREA.
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLYBEYOND THIS POINT.
There was a slot for a security card, but Tim just pushed the door open. "How come it opened?" "The power is out," Tim said. "Why're we going to the control room?" she asked. "To find a radio. We need to call somebody." Beyond the glass door the hallway continued. Tim remembered this area; he had seen it earlier, during the tour. Lex trotted along at his side. In the distance, they heard the snarling of raptors. The animals seemed to be approaching. Then Tim heard them slamming against the glass downstairs. "They're out there . . ." Lex whispered. "Don't worry." "What are they doing here?" Lex said. "Never mind now." PARK SUPERVISOR . . . OPERATIONS . . . MAIN CONTROL . . . "Here," Tim said. He pushed open the door. The main control room was as he had seen it before. In the center of the room was a console with four chairs and four computer monitors. The room was entirely dark except for the monitors, which all showed a series of colored rectangles. "So where's a radio?" Lex said. But Tim had forgotten all about a radio. He moved forward, staring at the computer screens. The screens were on! That could only mean- "The power must be back on. . . ." "Ick," Lex said, shifting her body. "What." "I was standing on somebody's ear, " she said. Tim hadn't seen a body when they came in. He looked back and saw there was just an ear, lying on the floor. "That is really disgusting," Lex said. "Never mind." He turned to the monitors. "Where's the rest of him?" she said. "Never mind that now." He peered closely at the monitor. There were rows of colored labels on the screen: [picture]
"You better not fool around with that, Timmy," she said. "Don't worry, I won't." He had seen complicated computers before, like the ones that were installed in the buildings his father worked on. Those computers controlled everything from the elevators and security to the heating and cooling systems. They looked basically like this-a lot of colored labels-but they were usually simpler to understand. And almost always there was a help label, if you needed to learn about the system. But he saw no help label here. He looked again, to be sure. But then he saw something else: numerals clicking in the upper left corner of the screen. They read 10:47:22. Then Tim realized it was the time. There were only thirteen minutes left for the boat-but he was more worried about the people in the lodge. There was a static crackle. He turned, and saw Lex holding a radio. She was twisting the knobs and dials. "How does it work?" she said. "I can't make it work." "Give me that!" "It's mine! I found it!" "Give it to me, Lex!" "I get to use it first!" "Lex!" Suddenly, the radio crackled. "What the hell is going on!" said Muldoon's voice. Surprised, Lex dropped the radio on the floor.
Grant ducked back, crouching among the palm trees. Through the mist ahead he could see the raptors hopping and snarling and butting their heads against the glass of the visitor center. But, between snarls, they would fall silent and cock their heads, as if listening to something distant. And then they would make little whimpering sounds. "What're they doing?" Gennaro said. "It looks like they're trying to get into the cafeteria," Grant said. "What's in the cafeteria?" "I left the kids there . . ." Grant said. "Can they break through that glass?" "I don't think so, no." Grant watched, and now he heard the crackle of a distant radio, and the raptors began hopping in a more agitated way. One after another, they began jumping higher and higher, until finally he saw the first of them leap lightly onto the second-floor balcony, and from there move inside the second floor of the visitor center.
In the control room on the second floor, Tim snatched up the radio which Lex had dropped. He pressed the button. "Hello? Hello?" "-s that you, Tim?" It was Muldoon's voice. "It's me, yes." "Where are you?" "In the control room. The power is on!" "That's great, Tim," Muldoon said. "If someone will tell me how to turn the computer on, I'll do it." There was a silence. "Hello?" Tim said. "Did you hear me?" "Ah, we have a problem about that," Muldoon said. "Nobody, ah, who is here knows how to do that. How to turn the computer on." Tim said, "What, are you kidding? Nobody knows?" It seemed incredible. "No." A pause. "I think it's something about the main grid. Turning on the main grid . . . You know anything about computers, Tim?" Tim stared at the screen. Lex nudged him. "Tell him no, Timmy," she said. "Yes, some. I know something," Tim said. "Might as well try," Muldoon said. "Nobody here knows what to do. And Grant doesn't know about computers." "Okay," Tim said. "I'll try." He clicked off the radio and stared at the screen, studying it. "Timmy," Lex said. "You don't know what to do." "Yes I do." "If you know, then do it," Lex said. "Just a minute." As a way to get started, he pulled the chair close to the keyboard and pressed the cursor keys. Those were the keys that moved the cursor around on the screen. But nothing happened. Then he pushed other keys. The screen remained unchanged. "Well?" she said. "Something's wrong," Tim said, frowning. "You just don't know, Timmy," she said. He examined the computer again, looking at it carefully. The keyboard had a row of function keys at the top, just like a regular PC keyboard, and the monitor was big and in color. But the monitor housing was sort of unusual. Tim looked at the edges of the screen and saw lots of faint pinpoints of red light. Red light, all around the borders of the screen . . . What could that be? He moved his finger toward the light and saw the soft red glow on his skin. He touched the screen and heard a beep.
[picture]
A moment later, the message box disappeared, and the original screen flashed back up. "What happened?" Lex said. "What did you do? You touched something." Of course! he thought. He had touched the screen. It was a touch screen! The red lights around the edges must be infrared sensors. Tim had never seen such a screen, but he'd read about them in magazines. He touched RESET/REVERT. Instantly the screen changed. He got a new message:
THE COMPUTER IS NOW RESETMAKE YOUR SELECTION FROM THE MAIN SCREEN.
Over the radio, they heard the sound of raptors snarling. "I want to see," Lex said. "You should try VIEW." "No, Lex." "Well, I want VIEW," she said. And before he could grab her hand, she had pressed VIEW. The screen changed.
[picture]
"Uh-oh," she said. "Lex, will you cut it out?" "Look!" she said. "it worked! Ha!" Around the room, the monitors showed quickly changing views of different parts of the park, Most of the images were misty gray, because of the exterior fog, but one showed the outside of the lodge, with a raptor on the roof, and then another switched to an image in bright sunlight, showing the bow of a ship, bright sunlight- "What was that?" Tim said, leaning forward. "What?" "That picture!" But the image had already changed, and now they were seeing the inside of the lodge, one room after another, and then he saw Malcolm, lying in a bed- "Stop it," Lex said. "I see them!" Tim touched the screen in several places, and got submenus. Then more submenus. "Wait," Lex said. "You're confusing it. . . ." "Will you shut up! You don't know anything about computers!" Now he had a list of monitors on the screen. One of them was marked SAFARI LODGE: LV2-4. Another was REMOTE: SHIPBOARD (VND). He pressed the screen several times. Video images came up on monitors around the room. One showed the bow of the supply ship, and the ocean ahead. In the distance, Tim saw land-buildings along a shore, and a harbor. He recognized the harbor because he had flown over it in the helicopter the day before. It was Puntarenas. The ship seemed to be just minutes from landing. But his attention was drawn by the next screen, which showed the roof of the safari lodge, in gray mist. The raptors were mostly bidden behind the pyramids, but their heads bobbed up and down, coming into view. And then, on the third monitor, he could see inside a room. Malcolm was lying in a bed, and Ellie stood next to him. They were both looking upward. As they watched, Muldoon walked into the room, and joined them, looking up with an expression of concern. "They see us," Lex said. "I don't think so." The radio crackled. On the screen, Muldoon lifted the radio to his lips. "Hello, Tim?" "I'm here," Tim said. "Ah, we haven't got a whole lot of time," Muldoon said, dully. "Better get that power grid on." And then Tim heard the raptors snarl, and saw one of the long heads duck down through the glass, briefly entering the picture from the top, snapping its jaws. Hurry, Timmy!" Lex said. "Get the power on!"
The Grid Tim suddenly found himself lost in a tangled series of monitor control screens, as he tried to get back to the main screen. Most systems had a single button or a single command to return to the previous screen, or to the main menu. But this system did not-or at least he didn't know it. Also, he was certain that help commands had been built into the system, but he couldn't find them, either, and Lex was jumping up and down and shouting in his ear, making him nervous. Finally he got the main screen back. He wasn't sure what he had done, but it was back. He paused, looking for a command. "Do something, Timmy!" "Will you shut up? I'm trying to get help." He pushed TEMPLATE-MAIN. The screen filled with a complicated diagram, with interconnecting boxes and arrows. No good. No good. He pushed COMMON INTERFACE. The screen shifted: [picture] "What's that?" Lex said. "Why aren't you turning on the power, Timmy?" He ignored her. Maybe help on this system was called "Info." He pushed INFO.
[picture]
"Tim-ee," Lex wailed, but he had already pushed FIND. He got another useless window. He pushed GO BACK.
On the radio, he heard Muldoon say, "How's it coming, Tim?" He didn't bother to answer. Frantic, he pushed buttons one after another. Suddenly, without warning, the main screen was back.[picture] He studied the screen. ELECTRICAL MAIN and SETGRIDS DNL both looked like they might have something to do with grids. He noticed that SAFETY/HEALTH and CRITICAL LOCKS might be important, too. He heard the growl of the raptors. He had to make a choice. He pressed SETGRIDS DNL, and groaned when he saw it: [picture]
He didn't know what to do. He pushed STANDARD PARAMETERS.
STANDARD PARAMETERS Park Grids B4-C6 Outer Grids C2-D2 Zoological Grids BB-07 Pen Grids R4-R4 Lodge Grids F4-D4 Maint Grids E5-L6 Main Grids C4-G7 Sensor Grids D5-G4 Utility Grids AH-B5 Core Grids Al-Cl Circuit Integrity Not Tested Security Grids Remain Automatic Tim shook his head in frustration. It took him a moment to realize that he had just gotten valuable information. He now knew the grid coordinates for the lodge! He pushed grid F4.
POWER GRID F4 (SAFARI LODCE) COMMAND CANNOT BE EXECUTED. ERROR-505 (POWER INCOMPATIBLE WITH COMMAND ERROR. Ref Manual Pages 4.09-4.11) "It's not working," Lex said. "I know!" He pushed another button. The screen flashed again.
POWER GRID D4 (SAFARI LODCE) COMMAND CANNOT BE EXECUTED. ERROR-505 (POWER INCOMPATIBLE WITH COMMAND ERROR. Ref Manual Pages 4.09-4.1 1) Tim tried to stay calm, to think it through. For some reason he was getting a consistent error message whenever he tried to turn on a grid. It was saying the power was incompatible with the command he was giving. But what did that mean? Why was power incompatible? "Timmy . . ." Lex said, tugging at his arm. 'Not now, Lex." "Yes, now, " she said, and she pulled him away from the screen and the console. And then he heard the snarling of raptors. It was coming from the hallway.
In the skylight above Malcolm's bed, the raptors had almost bitten through the second metal bar. They could now poke their heads entirely through the shattered glass, and lunge and snarl at the people below. Then after a moment they would pull back, and resume chewing on the metal. Malcolm said, "It won't be long now. Three, four minutes." He pressed the button on the radio: "Tim, are you there? Tim?" There was no answer.
Tim slipped out the door and saw the velociraptor, down at the far end of the corridor, standing by the balcony, He stared in astonishment. How had it gotten out of the freezer? Then, as he watched, a second raptor suddenly appeared on the balcony, and he understood. The raptor hadn't come from the freezer at all. It had come from outside. It had jumped from the ground below. The second raptor landed silently, perfectly balanced on the railing. Tim couldn't believe it. The big animal had jumped ten feet straight up. More than ten feet. Their legs must be incredibly powerful. Lex whispered, "I thought you said they couldn't-" "Ssshh." Tim was trying to think, but he watched with a kind of fascinated dread as the third raptor leapt to the balcony. The animals milled aimlessly in the corridor for a moment, and then they began to move forward in single file. Coming toward him and Lex. Quietly, Tim pushed against the door at his back, to re-enter the control room. But the door was stuck. He pushed harder. "We're locked out," Lex whispered. "Look." She pointed to the slot for the security card alongside the door. A bright red dot glowed. Somehow the security doors had been activated. "You idiot, you locked us out!" Tim looked down the corridor. He saw several more doors, but each had a red light glowing alongside. That meant all the doors were locked. There was nowhere they could go. Then he saw a slumped shape on the floor at the far end of the corridor. It was a dead guard. A white security card was clipped to his belt. "Come on," he whispered. They ran for the guard. Tim got the card, and turned back. But of course the raptors had seen them. They snarled, and blocked the way back to the control room. They began to spread apart, fanning out in the hallway to surround Tim and Lex. Their heads began to duck rhythmically. They were going to attack. Tim did the only thing he could do. Using the card, he opened the nearest door off the hallway and pushed Lex through. As the door began to close slowly behind them, the raptors hissed and charged.
Lodge Ian Malcolm drew each breath as if it might be his last. He watched the raptors with dull eyes. Harding took his blood pressure, frowned, took it again. Ellie Sattler was wrapped in a blanket, shivering and cold. Muldoon sat on the floor, propped against the wall. Hammond was staring upward, not speaking. They all listened to the radio. "What happened to Tim?" Hammond said. "Still no word?" "I don't know." Malcolm said, "Ugly, aren't they. Truly ugly." Hammond shook his head. "Who could have imagined it would turn out this way." Ellie said, "Apparently Malcolm did." "I didn't imagine it," Malcolm said. "I calculated it." Hammond sighed. "No more of this, please. He's been saying 'I told you so' for hours. But nobody ever wanted this to happen." "It isn't a matter of wanting it or not," Malcolm said, eyes closed. He spoke slowly, through the drugs. "It's a matter of what you think you can accomplish. When the hunter goes out in the rain forest to seek food for his family, does he expect to control nature? No. He imagines that nature is beyond him. Beyond his understanding. Beyond his control. Maybe he prays to nature, to the fertility of the forest that provides for him. He prays because he knows he doesn't control it. He's at the mercy of it. "But you decide you won't be at the mercy of nature. You decide you'll control nature, and from that moment on you're in deep trouble, because you can't do it. Yet you have made systems that require you to do it. And you can't do it-and you never have-and you never will. Don't confuse things. You can make a boat, but you can't make the ocean. You can make an airplane, but you can't make the air. Your powers are much less than your dreams of reason would have you believe." "He's lost me," Hammond said, with a sigh, "Where did Tim go? He seemed such a responsible boy." "I'm sure he's trying to get control of the situation," Malcolm said. "Like everybody else." "And Grant, too. What happened to Grant?"
Grant reached the rear door to the visitor center, the same door he had left twenty minutes before. He tugged on the handle: it was locked. Then he saw the little red light. The security doors were reactivated! Damn! He ran around to the front of the building, and went through the shattered front doors into the main lobby, stopping by the guard desk where he had been earlier. He could hear the dry hiss of his radio. He went to the kitchen, looking for the kids, but the kitchen door was open, the kids gone. He went upstairs but came to the glass panel marked CLOSED AREA and the door was locked. He needed a security card to go farther. Grant couldn't get in. From somewhere inside the hallway, he heard the raptors snarling.
The leathery reptile skin touched Tim's face, the claws tore his shirt, and Tim fell onto his back, shrieking in fright. "Timmy!" Lex yelled. Tim scrambled to his feet again. The baby velociraptor perched on his shoulder, chirping and squeaking in panic. Tim and Lex were in the white nursery. There were toys on the floor: a rolling yellow ball, a doll, a plastic rattle. "It's the baby raptor," Lex said, pointing to the animal gripping Tim's shoulder. The little raptor burrowed its head into Tim's neck. The poor thing was probably starving, Tim thought. Lex came closer and the baby hopped onto her shoulder. It rubbed against her neck. "Why is it doing that?" she said. "Is it scared?" "I don't know," Tim said. She passed the raptor back to Tim. The baby was chirping and squeaking, and hopping up and down on his shoulder excitedly. It kept looking around, head moving quickly. No doubt about it, the little thing was worked up and- "Tim," Lex whispered. The door to the hallway laadn't closed behind them after they entered the nursery. Now the big velociraptors were coming through. First one, then a second one. Clearly agitated, the baby chirped and bounced on Tim's shoulder. Tim knew he had to get away. Maybe the baby would distract them. After all, it was a baby raptor. He plucked the little animal from his shoulder and threw it across the room. The baby scurried between the legs of the adults. The first raptor lowered its snout, sniffed at the baby delicately, Tim took Lex's hand, and pulled her deeper into the nursery. He had to find a door, a way to get out- There was a high piercing shriek. Tim looked back to see the baby in the jaws of the adult. A second velociraptor came forward and tore at the limbs of the infant, trying to pull it from the mouth of the first. The two raptors fought over the baby as it squealed. Blood splattered in large drops onto the floor. "They ate him," Lex said. The raptors fought over the remains of the baby, rearing back and butting heads. Tim found a door-it was unlocked-and went through, pulling Lex after him. They were in another room, and from the deep green glow he realized it was the deserted DNA-extraction laboratory, the rows of stereo microscopes abandoned, the high-resolution screens showing frozen, giant black-and-white images of insects. The flies and gnats that had bitten dinosaurs millions of years ago, sucking the blood that now had been used to re-create dinosaurs in the park. They ran through the laboratory, and Tim could hear the snorts and snarls of the raptors, pursuing them, coming closer, and then he went to the back of the lab and through a door that must have had an alarm, because in the narrow corridor an intermittent siren sounded shrilly, and the lights overhead flashed on and off. Running down the corridor, Tim was plunged into darkness-then light again-then darkness. Over the sound of the alarm, he heard the raptors snort as they pursued him. Lex was whimpering and moaning. Tim saw another door ahead, with the blue biohazard sign, and he slammed into the door, and moved beyond it, and suddenly he collided with something big and Lex shrieked in terror. "Take it easy, kids," a voice said. Tim blinked in disbelief. Standing above him was Dr. Grant. And next to him was Mr. Gennaro.
Outside in the hallway, it had taken Grant nearly two minutes to realize that the dead guard down in the lobby probably had a security card. He'd gone back and gotten it, and entered the upper corridor, moving quickly down the hallway. He had followed the sound of the raptors and found them fighting in the nursery. He was sure the kids would have gone to the next room, and had immediately run to the extractions lab. And there he'd met the kids. Now the raptors were coming toward them. The animals seemed momentarily hesitant, surprised by the appearance of more people. Grant pushed the kids into Gennaro's arms and said, "Take them back someplace safe." "But-" "Through there," Grant said, pointing over his shoulder to a far door. "Take them to the control room, if you can. You should all be safe there." "What are you going to do?" Gennaro said. The raptors stood near the door. Grant noticed that they waited until all the animals were together, and then they moved forward, as a group. Pack hunters. He shivered. "I have a plan," Grant said. "Now go on." Gennaro led the kids away. The raptors continued slowly toward Grant, moving past the supercomputers, past the screens that still blinked endless sequences of computer-deciphered code. The raptors came forward without hesitation, sniffing the floor, repeatedly ducking their heads. Grant heard the door click behind him and glanced over his shoulder. Everybody was standing on the other side of the glass door, watching him. Gennaro shook his head. Grant knew what it meant. There was no door to the control room beyond. Gennaro and the kids were trapped in there. It was up to him now.
Grant moved slowly, edging around the laboratory, leading the raptors away from Gennaro and the kids. He could see another door, nearer the front, which was marked TO LABORATORY. Whatever that meant. He had an idea, and he hoped he was right. The door had a blue biohazard sign. The raptors were coming closer. Grant turned and slammed into the door, and moved beyond it, into a deep, warm silence.
He turned. Yes. He was where he wanted to be, in the hatchery: beneath infrared lights, long tables, with rows of eggs and a low clinging mist. The rockers on the tables clicked and whirred in a steady motion. The mist poured over the sides of the tables and drifted to the floor, where it disappeared, evaporated. Grant ran directly to the rear of the hatchery, into a glass-walled laboratory with ultraviolet light. His clothing glowed blue. He looked around at the glass reagents, beakers full of pipettes, glass dishes . . . all delicate laboratory equipment. The raptors entered the room, cautiously at first, sniffing the humid air, looking at the long rocking tables of eggs. The lead animal wiped its bloody jaws with the back of its forearm. Silently the raptors passed between the long tables. The animals moved through the room in a coordinated way, ducking from time to time to peer beneath the tables. They were looking for him. Grant crouched, and moved to the back of the laboratory, looked up, and saw the metal hood marked with a skull and crossbones. A sign said CAUTION BIOGENIC TOXINS A4 PRECAUTIONS REQUIRED. Grant remembered that Regis had said they were powerful poisons. Only a few molecules would kill instantaneously. . . . The hood lay flush against the surface of the lab table. Grant could not slip his hand under it. He tried to open it, but there was no door, no handle, no way that he could see. . . . Grant rose slowly, and glanced back at the main room. The raptors were still moving among the tables. He turned to the hood. He saw an odd metal fixture sunk into the surface of the table. It looked like an outdoor electrical outlet with a round cover. He flipped up the cover, saw a button, pressed it. With a soft hiss, the hood slid upward, to the ceiling. He saw glass shelves above him, and rows of bottles marked with a skull and crossbones. He peered at the labels: CCK-5 5 . . . TETPA-ALPHA SECRETIN . . . THYMOLEVIN X-1612. . . . The fluids glowed pale green in the ultraviolet light. Nearby he saw a glass dish with syringes in it. The syringes were small, each containing a tiny amount of green glowing fluid. Crouched in the blue darkness, Grant reached for the dish of syringes. The needles on the syringes were capped in plastic. He removed one cap, pulling it off with his teeth. He looked at the thin needle. He moved forward. Toward the raptors. He had devoted his whole life to studying dinosaurs. Now he would see how much he really knew. Velociraptors were small carnivorous dinosaurs, like oviraptors and dromaeosaurs, animals that were long thought to steal eggs. Just as certain modern birds ate the eggs of other birds, Grant had always assumed that velociraptors would eat dinosaur eggs if they could. He crept forward to the nearest egg table in the hatchery. Slowly he reached up into the mist and took a large egg from the rocking table. The egg was almost the size of a football, cream-colored with faint pink speckling. He held the egg carefully while he stuck the needle through the shell, and injected the contents of the syringe. The egg glowed faint blue. Grant bent down again. Beneath the table, he saw the legs of the raptors, and the mist pouring down from the tabletops. He rolled the glowing egg along the floor, toward the raptors. The raptors looked up, hearing the faint rumble as the egg rolled, and jerked their heads around. Then they resumed their slow stalking search. The egg stopped several yards from the nearest raptor. Damn! Grant did it all again: quietly reaching up for an egg, bringing it down, injecting it, and rolling it toward the raptors. This time, the egg came to rest by the foot of one velociraptor. It rocked gently, clicking against the big toe claw. The raptor looked down in surprise at this new gift. It bent over and sniffed the glowing egg. It rolled the egg with its snout along the floor for a moment. And ignored it. The velociraptor stood upright again, and slowly moved on, continuing to search. It wasn't working. Grant reached for a third egg, and injected it with a fresh syringe. He held the glowing egg in his hands, and rolled it again. But he rolled this one fast, like a bowling ball. The egg rattled across the floor loudly. One of the animals heard the sound-ducked down-saw it coming and instinctively chased the moving object, gliding swiftly among the tables to intercept the egg as it rolled. The big jaws snapped down and bit into it, crushing the shell. The raptor stood, pale albumen dripping from its jaws. It licked its lips noisily, and snorted. It bit again, and lapped the egg from the floor. But it didn't seem to be in the least distressed. It bent over to eat again from the broken egg. Grant looked down to see what would happen. . . . From across the room, the raptor saw him. It was looking right at him. The velociraptor snarled menacingly. It moved toward Grant, crossing the room in long, incredibly swift strides. Grant was shocked to see it happening and froze in panic, when suddenly the animal made a gasping, gurgling sound and the big body pitched forward onto the ground. The heavy tail thumped the floor in spasms. The raptor continued to make choking sounds, punctuated by intermittent loud shrieks. Foam bubbled from its mouth. The head flopped back and forth. The tail slammed and thumped. That's one, Grant thought. But it wasn't dying very fast. It seemed to take forever to die. Grant reached up for another egg-and saw that the other raptors in the room were frozen in mid-action. They listened to the sound of the dying animal. One cocked its head, then another, and another. The first animal moved to look at the fallen raptor. The dying raptor was now twitching, the whole body shaking on the floor. It made pitiful moans. So much foam bubbled from its mouth that Grant could hardly see the head any more. It flopped on the floor and moaned again. The second raptor bent over the fallen animal, examining it. It appeared to be puzzled by these death throes. Cautiously, it looked at the foaming head, then moved down to the twitching neck, the heaving ribs, the legs. . . . And it took a bite from the hind leg. The dying animal snarled, and suddenly lifted its head and twisted, sinking its teeth into the neck of its attacker. That's two, Grant thought. But the standing animal wrenched free. Blood flowed from its neck. It struck out with its hind claws, and with a single swift movement ripped open the belly of the fallen animal. Coils of intestine fell out like fat snakes. The screams of the dying raptor filled the room. The attacker turned away, as if fighting was suddenly too much trouble. It crossed the room, ducked down, and came up with a glowing egg! Grant watched as the raptor bit into it, the glowing material dripping down its chin. That makes two. The second raptor was stricken almost instantly, coughing and pitching forward. As it fell, it knocked over a table. Dozens of eggs rolled everywhere across the floor. Grant looked at them in dismay. There was still a third raptor left. Grant had one more syringe. With so many eggs rolling on the floor, he would have to do something else. He was trying to decide what to do when the last animal snorted irritably. Grant looked up-the raptor had spotted him. The final raptor did not move for a long time, it just stared. And then it slowly, quietly came forward. Stalking him. Bobbing up and down, looking first beneath the tables, then above them. It moved deliberately, cautiously, with none of the swiftness that it had displayed in a pack. A solitary animal now, it was careful. It never took its eyes off Grant. Grant looked around quickly. There was nowhere for him to hide. Nothing for him to do . . . Grant's gaze was fixed on the raptor, moving slowly laterally. Grant moved, too. He tried to keep as many tables as he could between himself and the advancing animal. Slowly . . . slowly ... he moved to the left. . . . The raptor advanced in the dark red gloom of the hatchery. Its breath came in soft hisses, through flared nostrils. Grant felt eggs breaking beneath his feet, the yolk sticking to the soles of his shoes. He crouched down, felt the bulge of the radio in his pocket. The radio. He pulled it from his pocket and turned it on. "Hello. This is Grant." "Alan?" Ellie's voice. "Alan?" "Listen," he said softly. "Just talk." "Alan, is that you?" "Talk," he said again, and he pushed the radio across the floor, away from him, toward the advancing raptor. He crouched behind a table leg, and waited. "Alan, Speak to me, please." Then a crackle, and silence. The radio remained silent. The raptor advanced, Soft hissing breath. The radio was still silent. What was the matter with her! Didn't she understand? In the darkness, the raptor came closer, ". . . Alan?" The tinny voice from the radio made the big animal pause. It sniffed the air, as if sensing someone else in the room. "Alan, it's me. I don't know if you can hear me." The raptor now turned away from Grant, and moved toward the radio. "Alan . . . please . . ." Why hadn't he pushed the radio farther away? The raptor was going toward it, but it was close. The big foot came down very near him. Grant could see the pebbled skin, the soft green glow. The streaks of dried blood on the curved claw. He could smell the strong reptile odor. "Alan, listen to me. . . . Alan?" The raptor bent over, poked at the radio on the floor, tentatively. Its body was turned away from Grant. The big tail was right above Grant's head. Grant reached up and jabbed the syringe deep into the flesh of the tail, and injected the poison. The velociraptor snarled and jumped. With frightening speed it swung back toward Grant, jaws wide. It snapped, its jaws closing on the table leg, and jerked its head up. The table was knocked away, and Grant fell back, now completely exposed. The raptor loomed over him, rising up, its head banging into the infrared lights above, making them swing crazily. "Alan?" The raptor reared back, and lifted its clawed foot to kick. Grant rolled, and the foot slammed down, just missing him. He felt a searing sharp pain along his shoulder blades, the sudden warm flow of blood over his shirt. He rolled across the floor, crushing eggs, smearing his hands, his face. The raptor kicked again, smashing down on the radio, spattering sparks. It snarled in rage, and kicked a third time, and Grant came to the wall, nowhere else to go, and the animal raised its foot a final time. And toppled backward. The animal was wheezing. Foam came from its mouth. Gennaro and the kids came into the room. Grant signaled them to stay back. The girl looked at the dying animal and said softly, "Wow." Gennaro helped Grant to his feet. They all turned, and ran for the control room.
Control Tim was astonished to find the screen in the control room was now flashing on and off. Lex said, "What happened?"
[picture]
Tim saw Dr. Grant staring at the screen, and gingerly moving his hand toward the keyboard. "I don't know about computers," Grant said, shaking his head. But Tim was already sliding into the seat. He touched the screen rapidly. On the video monitors, he could see the boat moving closer to Puntarenas. It was now only about two hundred yards from the dock. On the other monitor, he saw the lodge, with the raptors hanging down from the ceiling. On the radio, he heard their snarls. "Do something, Timmy," Lex said. He pushed SETGRIDS DNL, even though it was flashing. The screen answered: .
Jurassic Park WARNING: COMMAND EXECUTION ABORTED (AUX POWER LOW) "What does that mean?" Tim said. Gennaro snapped his fingers. "That happened before. It means auxiliary power is low. You have to turn on main power." "I do?" He pushed ELECTRICAL MAIN.
[picture]
Tim groaned. "What are you doing now?" Grant said. The whole screen was starting to flash. Tim pushed MAIN. Nothing happened. The screen continued to flash. Tim pushed MAIN GRID P. He felt sick to his stomach with fear.
MAIN POWER GRID NOT ACTIVE/AUXILIARY POWER ONLY.
The screen was still flashing. He pushed MAIN SET 1.
MAIN POWER ACTIVATED.
All the lights in the room came on. All the monitor screens stopped flashing. "Hey! All right!" Tim pressed RESET GRIDS. Nothing happened for a moment. He glanced at the video monitors, then back at the main screen.
[picture] Grant said something that Tim didn't hear, he only heard the tension in his voice. He was looking at Tim, worried. Tim felt his heart thumping in his chest. Lex was yelling at him. He didn't want to look at the video monitor anymore. He could hear the sound of the bars bending in the lodge, and the raptors snarling. He heard Malcolm say, "Dear God. . ." He pushed LODGE.
SPECIFY GRID NUMBER TO RESET..
For a frozen interminable moment he couldn't remember the number, but then he remembered F4, and he pressed that.
ACTIVATING LODGE GRID F4 NOW.
On the video monitor he saw an explosion of sparks, sputtering down from the ceiling of the hotel room. The monitor flared white. Lex shouted "What did you do!" but almost immediately the image came back and they could see that the raptors were caught between the bars, writhing and screaming in a hot cascade of sparks while Muldoon and the others cheered, their voices tinny over the radio. "That's it," Grant said, slapping Tim on the back. "That's it! You did it! " They were all standing and jumping up and down when Lex said, "What about the ship?" "The what?" "The ship, " she said, and pointed to the screen.
On the monitor, the buildings beyond the bow of the ship were much larger, and moving to the right, as the ship turned left and prepared to dock. He saw crewmen heading out to the bow, preparing to tie up. Tim scrambled back to his seat, and stared at the startup screen. He studied the screen. TeleCom VBB and TeleCom RSD both looked like they might have something to do with telephones. He pressed TELECOM RSD.
YOU HAVE 23 WAITING CALLS AND/OR MESSAGES. DO YOU WISH TO RECEIVE THEM NOW?.
He pushed NO. "Maybe the ship was one of the waiting calls," Lex said. "Maybe that way you could get the phone number!" He ignored her.
ENTER THE NUM13ER YOU WISH TO CALL OR PRESS F7 FOR DIRECTORY.
He pushed F7 and suddenly names and numbers spilled over the screen, an enormous directory. It wasn't alphabetical, and it took a while to scan it visually before he found what he was looking for: VSL ANNE B. (FREDDY) 708-3902.
Now all he had to do was figure out how to dial. He pushed a row of buttons at the bottom of the screen: DIAL NOW OR DIAL LATER?.
He pushed DIAL NOW.
WE'RE SORRY, YOUR CALL CANNOT BE COMPLETED AS DIALED. {ERROR-5981} PLEASE TRY AGAIN.
He tried it again. He heard a dial tone, then the tone of the numbers being automatically dialed in rapid succession. "Is that it?" Grant said. "Pretty good, Timmy," Lex said. "But they're almost there." On the screen, they could see the prow of the ship closing on the Puntarenas dock. They heard a high-pitched squeal, and then a voice said, "Ah, hello, John, this is Freddy. Do you read me, over?" Tim picked up a phone on the console but heard only a dial tone. "Ah, hello, John, this is Freddy, over?" "Answer it" Lex said. Now they were all picking up phones, lifting every receiver in sight, but they heard only dial tones. Finally Tim saw a phone mounted on the side of the console with a blinking light. "Ah, hello, control. This is Freddy. Do you read me, over?" Tim grabbed the receiver. "Hello, this is Tim Murphy, and I need you to-" "Ah, say again, didn't get that, John." "Don't land the boat! Do you hear me?" There was a pause. Then a puzzled voice said, "Sounds like some damn kid." Tim said, "Don't land the ship! Come back to the island!" The voices sounded distant and scratchy. "Did he-name was Murphy?" And another voice said, "I didn't get-name." Tim looked frantically at the others. Gennaro reached for the phone. "Let me do this. Can you get his name?" There was the sharp crackle of static. "-got to be a joke or else-a frigging ham operator-omething." Tim was working on the keyboard, there was probably some kind of a way to find out who Freddy was. . . . "Can you hear me?" Gennaro said, into the phone. "If you can hear me, answer me now, over." "Son," came the drawled reply, "we don't know who the hell you are, but you're not funny, and we're about to dock and we've got work to do. Now, identify yourself properly or get off this channel." Tim watched as the screen printed out FARRELL, FREDERICK D, (CAPT.). "Try this for identification, Captain Farrell," Gennaro said. "If you don't turn that boat around and return to this island immediately, you will be found in violation of Section 509 of the Uniform Maritime Act, you will he subject to revocation of license, penalties in excess of fifty thousand dollars, and five years in jail. Do you hear that?" There was a silence. "Do you copy that, Captain Farrell?" And then, distantly, they heard a voice say, "I copy," and another voice said, "All ahead stern." The boat began to turn away from the dock. Lex began to cheer. Tim collapsed back in the chair, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Grant said, "What's the Uniform Maritime Act?" "Who the hell knows?" Gennaro said. They all watched the screen in satisfaction. The boat was definitely heading away from the shore. "I guess the hard part's finished," Gennaro said. Grant shook his head. "The hard part," he said, is just beginning."
SEVENTH ITERATION.
[picture]
"Increasingly, the mathematics will demand the courage toface its implications."
IAN MALCOLM.
Destroying the World They moved Malcolm to another room in the lodge, to a clean bed. Hammond seemed to revive, and began bustling around, straightening up, "Well," he said, "at least disaster is averted." "What disaster is that?" Malcolm said, sighing. "Well," Hammond said, "they didn't get free and overrun the world." Malcolm sat up on one elbow. "You were worried about that?" "Surely that's what was at stake," Hammond said. "These animals, lacking predators, might get out and destroy the planet." "You egomaniacal idiot" Malcolm said, in fury. "Do you have any idea what you are talking about? You think you can destroy the planet? My, what intoxicating power you must have." Malcolm sank back on the bed. "You can't destroy this planet. You can't even come close." "Most people believe," Hammond said stiffly, "that the planet is in jeopardy." "Well, it's not," Malcolm said. "All the experts agree that our planet is in trouble." Malcolm sighed. "Let me tell you about our planet," he said. "Our planet is four and a half billion years old. There has been life on this planet for nearly that long. Three point eight billion years. The first bacteria. And, later, the first multicellular animals, then the first complex creatures, in the sea, on the land. Then the great sweeping ages of animals-the amphibians, the dinosaurs, the mammals, each lasting millions upon millions of years. Great dynasties of creatures arising, flourishing, dying away, All this happening against a background of continuous and violent upheaval, mountain ranges thrust up and eroded away, cometary impacts, volcanic eruptions, oceans rising and falling, whole continents moving . . . Endless constant and violent change . . . Even today, the greatest geographical feature on the planet comes from two great continents colliding, buckling to make the Himalayan mountain range over millions of years. The planet has survived everything, in its time. It will certainly survive us." Hammond frowned. "Just because it lasted a long time," he said, "doesn't mean it is permanent. If there was a radiation accident . . ." "Suppose there was," Malcolm said. "Let's say we had a bad one, and all the plants and animals died, and the earth was clicking hot for a hunred thousand years. Life would survive somewhere-under the soil, or perhaps frozen in Arctic ice. And after all those years, when the planet was no longer inhospitable, life would again spread over the planet. The evolutionary process would begin again. It might take a few billion years for life to regain its present variety. And of course it would be very different from what it is now. But the earth would survive our folly. Life would survive our folly. Only we," Malcolm said, "think it wouldn't." Hammond said, "Well, if the ozone layer gets thinner-" "There will be more ultraviolet radiation reaching the surface. So what?" "Well. It'll cause skin cancer." Malcolm shook his head. "Ultraviolet radiation is good for life. It's powerful energy. It promotes mutation, change. Many forms of life will thrive with more UV radiation." "And many others will die out," Hammond said. Malcolm sighed. "You think this is the first time such a thing has happened? Don't you know about oxygen?" "I know it's necessary for life." "It is now, " Malcolm said. "But oxygen is actually a metabolic poison. It's a corrosive gas, like fluorine, which is used to etch glass. And when oxygen was first produced as a waste product by certain plant cells-say, around three billion years ago-it created a crisis for all other life on our planet. Those plant cells were polluting the environment with a deadly poison. They were exhaling a lethal gas, and building up its concentration. A planet like Venus has less than one percent oxygen. On earth, the concentration of oxygen was going up rapidly-five, ten, eventually twentyone percent! Earth had an atmosphere of pure poison! Incompatible with life! " Hammond looked irritated. "So what is your point? That modern pollutants will be incorporated, too?" "No," Malcolm said. "My point is that life on earth can take care of itself. In the thinking of a human being, a hundred years is a long time. A hundred years ago, we didn't have cars and airplanes and computers and vaccines. . . . It was a whole different world. But to the earth, a hundred years is nothing. A million years is nothing. This planet lives and breathes on a much vaster scale. We can't imagine its slow and powerful rhythms, and we haven't got the humility to try. We have been residents here for the blink of an eye. If we are gone tomorrow, the earth will not miss us." And we very well might be gone," Hammond said, huffing. "Yes," Malcolm said. "We might." "So what are you saying? We shouldn't care about the environment?" "No, of course not." "Then what?" Malcolm coughed, and stared into the distance. "Let's be clear. The planet is not in jeopardy. We are in jeopardy. We haven't got the power to destroy the planet-or to save it. But we might have the power to save ourselves."
Under Control Four hours had passed. It was afternoon; the sun was falling. The air conditioning was back on in the control room, and the computer was functioning properly. As near as they could determine, out of twenty-four people on the island, eight were dead and six more were missing. The visitor center and the Safari Lodge were both secure, and the northern perimeter seemed to be clear of dinosaurs. They had called authorities in San Jose for help. The Costa Rican National Guard was on its way, as well as an air ambulance to carry Malcolm to a hospital. But over the telephone, the Costa Rican guard had been distinctly cautious- undoubtedly calls would go back and forth between San Jose and Washington before help was finally sent to the island. And now it was growing late in the day- if the helicopters did not arrive soon, they would have to wait until morning. In the meantime, there was nothing to do but wait. The ship was returning; the crew had discovered three young raptors scampering about in one of the aft holds, and had killed the animals. On Isla Nublar, the immediate danger appeared to have passed; everyone was in either the visitor center or the lodge. Tim had gotten quite good with the computer, and he flashed up a new screen.
Total Animals 292____________________________________ Species Expected Found Ver Tyrannosaurs 2 1 4.1Maiasaurs 22 20 ??Stegosaurs 4 1 3.9Triceratops 8 6 3.1Procompsognathids 65 64 ??Othnielia 23 15 3.1Velociraptors 37 27 ??Apatosaurs 17 12 3.1Hadrosaurs 11 5 3.1Dilophosaurs 7 4 4.3Pterosaurs 6 5 4.3Hypsilophodontids 34 14 ??Euoplocepbalids 16 9 4.0Styracosaurs 18 7 3.9Callovosaurs 22 13 4.1 Total 292 203
"What the hell is it doing now?" Gennaro said. "Now it says there are fewer animals?" Grant nodded. "Probably." Ellie said, "Jurassic Park is finally coming under control." "Meaning what?" "Equilibrium." Grant pointed to the monitors. On one of them, the hypsilophodonts leapt into the air as a pack of velociraptors entered the field from the west. "The fences have been down for hours," Grant said. "The animals are mingling with each other. Populations reaching equilibriums true Jurassic equilibrium." "I don't think it was supposed to happen," Gennaro said. "The animals were never supposed to mix." "Well, they are." On another monitor, Grant saw a pack of raptors racing at full speed across an open field toward a four-ton hadrosaur. The hadrosaur turned to flee, and one of the raptors lumped onto its back, biting into the long neck, while others raced forward, circled around it, nipped at its legs, leapt up to slash at the belly with their powerful claws. Within minutes, six raptors had brought down the larger animal. Grant stared, silently. Ellie said, "Is it the way you imagined?" "I don't know what I imagined," he said. He watched the monitor. "No, not exactly." Muldoon said quietly, "You know, it appears all the adult raptors are out right now." Grant didn't pay much attention at first. He just watched the monitors, the interaction of the great animals. In the south, the stegosaur was swinging its spiked tail, warily circling the baby tyrannosaur, which watched it, bemused, and occasionally lunged forward to nip ineffectually at the spikes. In the western quadrant, the adult triceratopsians were fighting among themselves, charging and locking horns. One animal already lay wounded and dying. Muldoon said, "We've got about an hour of good daylight left, Dr. Grant. If you want to try and find that nest." "Right," Grant said. "I do." "I was thinking," Muldoon said, "that, when the Costa Ricans come, they will probably imagine this island to be a military problem. Something to destroy as soon as possible." "Damn right," Gennaro said. "They'll bomb it from the air," Muldoon said. "Perhaps napalm, perhaps nerve gas as well. But from the air." "I hope they do," Gennaro said. "This island is too dangerous. Every animal on this island must be destroyed, and the sooner the better." Grant said, "That's not satisfactory." He got to his feet. "Let's get started. " "I don't think you understand, Alan," Gennaro said. "It's my opinion that this island is too dangerous. It must be destroyed. Every animal on this island must be destroyed, and that's what the Costa Rican guard will do. I think we should leave it in their capable hands. Do you understand what I'm saying?" "Perfectly," Grant said again. "Then what's your problem?" Gennaro said. "It's a military operation. Let them do it." Grant's back ached, where the raptor had clawed him. "No," he said. "We have to take care of it." "Leave it to the experts," Gennaro said. Grant remembered how he bhd found Gennaro, just six hours earlier, huddled and terrified in the cab of a truck in the maintenance building. And suddenly he lost his temper and slammed the lawyer up against the concrete wall. "Listen, you little bastard, you have a responsibility to this situation and you're going to start living up to it." "I am," Gennaro said, coughing. "No, you're not. You've shirked your responsibility all along, from the very beginning." "The hell-" "You sold investors on an undertaking you didn't fully understand. You were part owner of a business you failed to supervise. You did not check the activities of a man whom you knew from experience to be a liar, and you permitted that man to screw around with the most dangerous technology in human history. I'd say you shirked your responsibility." Gennaro coughed again. "Well, now I'm taking responsibility." "No," Grant said. "You're still shirking it. And you can't do that any more." He released Gennaro, who bent over, gasping for breath. Grant turned to Muldoon. "What have we got for weapons?" Muldoon said, "We've got some control nets, and shock prods." "How good are these shock prods?" Grant said. "They're like bang sticks for sharks. They have an explosive capacitor tip, delivers a shock on contact. High voltage, low amps. Not fatal, but it's definitely incapacitating." "That's not going to do it," Grant said. "Not in the nest." "What nest?" Gennaro said, coughing. "The raptor nest," Ellie said. "The raptor nest?" Grant was saying, "Have you got any radio collars?" "I'm sure we do," Muldoon said. "Get one. And is there anything else that can be used for defense?" Muldoon shock his head. "Well, get whatever you can." Muldoon went away. Grant turned to Gennaro. "Your island is a mess, Mr. Gennaro. Your experiment is a mess. It has to be cleaned up. But you can't do that until you know the extent of the mess. And that means finding the nests on the island. Especially the raptor nests. They'll be hidden. We have to find them, and inspect them, and count the eggs. We have to account for every animal born on this island. Then we can burn it down. But first we have a little work to do."
Ellie was looking at the wall map, which now showed the animal ranges. Tim was working the keyboard. She pointed to the map. "The raptors are localized in the southern area, down where the volcanic steam fields are. Maybe they like the warmth." "Is there any place to hide down there?" "Turns out there is," she said. "There's massive concrete waterworks, to control flooding in the southern flatlands. Big underground area. Water and shade." Grant nodded. "Then that's where they'll be." Ellie said, "I think there's an entrance from the beach, too." She turned to the consoles and said, "Tim, show us the cutaways on the waterworks." Tim wasn't listening. "Tim?" He was hunched over the keyboard. "Just a minute," he said. "I found something." "What is it?" "It's an unmarked storage room. I don't know what's there." "Then it might have weapons, Grant said.
They were all behind the maintenance building, unlocking a steel storm door, lifting it up into the sunlight, to reveal concrete steps going down into the earth. "Damned Arnold," Muldoon said, as he hobbled down the steps. "He must have known this was here all along." "Maybe not," Grant said. "He didn't try to go here." "Well, then, Hammond knew. Somebody knew." "Where is Hammond now?" "Still in the lodge." They reached the bottom of the stairs, and came upon rows of gas masks hanging on the wall, in plastic containers. They shone their flashlights deeper into the room and saw several heavy glass cubes, two feet high, with steel caps. Grant could see small dark spheres inside the cubes. It was like being in a room full of giant pepper mills, he thought. Muldoon opened the cap of one, reached in, and withdrew a sphere. He turned it in the light, frowning. "I'll be damned." "What is it?" Grant said. "MORO-12," Muldoon said. "It's an inhalation nerve gas. These are grenades. Lots and lots of grenades." "Let's get started," Grant said grimly.
"It likes me," Lex said, smiling. They were standing in the garage of the visitor center, by the little raptor that Grant had captured in the tunnel. She was petting the raptor through the cage bars. The animal rubbed up against her hand. "I'd be careful there," Muldoon said. "They can give a nasty bite." "He likes me," Lex said. "His name is Clarence." "Clarence?" "Yes," Lex said. Muldoon was holding the leather collar with the small metal box attached to it. Grant heard the high-pitched beeping in the headset. "Is it a problem putting the collar on the animal?" Lex was still petting the raptor, reaching through the cage. "I het he'll let me put it on him," she said. "I wouldn't try," Muldoon said. "They're unpredictable." "I het he'll let me," she said. So Muldoon gave Lex the collar, and she held it out so the raptor could smell it. Then she slowly slipped it around the animal's neck. The raptor turned brighter green when Lex buckled it and closed the Velcro cover over the buckle. Then the animal relaxed, and turned paler again. "I'll be damned," Muldoon said. "It's a chameleon," Lex said. "The other raptors couldn't do that," Muldoon said, frowning. "This wild animal must be different. By the way," he said, turning to Grant, "if they're all born females, how do they breed? You never explained that bit about the frog DNA." "It's not frog DNA," Grant said. "It's amphibian DNA. But the phenomenon happens to be particularly well documented in frogs. Especially West African frogs, if I remember." "What phenomenon is that?" "Gender transition," Grant said. "Actually, it's just plain changing sex." Grant explained that a number of plants and animals were known to have the ability to change their sex during life-orchids, some fish and shrimp, and now frogs. Frogs that had been observed to lay eggs were able to change, over a period of months, into complete males. They first adopted the fighting stance of males, they developed the mating whistle of males, they stimulated the hormones and grew the gonads of males, and eventually they successfully mated with females. "You're kidding," Gennaro said. "And what makes it happen?" "Apparently the change is stimulated by an environment in which all the animals are of the same sex. In that situation, some of the amphibians will spontaneously begin to change sex from female to male." "And you think that's what happened to the dinosaurs?" "Until we have a better explanation, yes," Grant said. "I think that's what happened. Now, shall we find this nest?"
They piled into the Jeep, and Lex lifted the raptor from the cage. The animal seemed quite calm, almost tame in her bands. She gave it a final pat on the head, and released it. The animal wouldn't leave. "Go on, shoo!" Lex said. "Go home!" The raptor turned, and ran off into the foliage.
Grant held the receiver and wore the headphones. Muldoon drove. The car bounced along the main road, going south. Gennaro turned to Grant and said, "What is it like, this nest?" "Nobody knows," Grant said. "But I thought you'd dug them up." "I've dug up fossil dinosaur nests," Grant said. "But all fossils are distorted by the weight of millennia. We've made some hypotheses, some suppositions, but nobody really knows what the nests were like." Grant listened to the beeps, and signaled Muldoon to head farther west. It looked more and more as if Ellie had been correct: the nest was in the southern volcanic fields. Grant shook his head. "Not much about nesting behavior is clear," he said. He found himself explaining about the modern reptiles, like crocodiles and alligators. Even their nesting behavior wasn't well understood. Actually, the American alligator was better studied than most, and in the case of alligators, only the female guarded the nest, and only until the time of birth. The male alligator had spent days in early spring lying beside the female in a mating pair, blowing bubbles on her checks and providing her with other signs of masculine attention designed to bring her to receptivity, causing her finally to lift her tail and allow him, as he lay beside her, to insert his penis. By the time the female built her nest, two months later, the male was long gone. And although the female guarded her cone-shaped, three-foot-high mud nest ferociously, her attention seemed to wane with time, and she generally abandoned her eggs by the time the hatchlings began to squeak and emerge from their shells. Thus, in the wild, a baby alligator began its life entirely on its own, and for that reason its belly was stuffed with egg yolk for nourishment in its early days. "So the adult alligators don't protect the young?" "Not as we imagine it," Grant said. "The biological parents both abandon the offspring. But there is a kind of group protection. Young alligators have a very distinctive distress cry, and it brings any adult who hears it-parent or not-to their assistance with a full-fledged, violent attack. Not a threat display. A full-on attack." "Oh." Gennaro fell silent. "But that's in all respects a distinctly reptile pattern," Grant continued. "For example, the alligator's biggest problem is to keep the eggs cool. The nests are always located in the shade. A temperature of ninety-eigbt point six degrees will kill an alligator egg, so the mother mostly guards her eggs to keep them cool." "And dinos aren't reptiles," Muldoon said laconically. "Exactly. The dinosaur nesting pattern could be much more closely related to that of any of a variety of birds-" "So you actually mean you don't know," Gennaro said, getting annoyed. "You don't know what the nest is like?" "No," Grant said. "I don't." "Well," Gennaro said. "So much for the damn experts." Grant ignored him. Already he could smell the sulfur. And up ahead he saw the rising steam of the volcanic fields.
The ground was hot, Gennaro thought, as he walked forward. It was actually hot. And here and there mud bubbled and spat up from the ground. And the reeking, sulfurous steam hissed in great shoulder-high plumes. He felt as if he were walking through hell. He looked at Grant, walking along with the headset on, listening to the beeps. Grant in his cowboy boots and his jeans and his Hawaiian shirt, apparently very cool. Gennaro didn't feel cool. He was frightened to be in this stinking, hellish place, with the velociraptors somewhere around. He didn't understand how Grant could be so calm about it. Or the woman. Sattler. She was walking along, too, just looking calmly around. "Doesn't this bother you?" Gennaro said. "I mean, worry you?" "We've got to do it," Grant said. He didn't say anything else. They all walked forward, among the bubbling steam vents. Gennaro fingered the gas grenades that he had clipped to his belt. He turned to Ellie. "Why isn't he worried about it?" "Maybe he is," she said. "But he's also thought about this for his whole life." Gennaro nodded, and wondered what that would be like. Whether there was anything he had waited his whole life for. He decided there wasn't anything.
Grant squinted in the sunlight. Ahead, through veils of steam, an animal crouched, looking at them. Then it scampered away. "Was that the raptor?" Ellie said. "I think so. Or another one. juvenile, anyway." She said, "Leading us on?" "Maybe." Ellie had told him how the raptors had played at the fence to keep her attention while another climbed onto the roof. If true, such behavior implied a mental capacity that was beyond nearly all forms of life on earth. Classically, the ability to invent and execute plans was believed to be limited to only three species: chimpanzees, gorillas, and human beings. Now there was the possibility that a dinosaur might be able to do such a thing, too. The raptor appeared again, darting into the light, then jumping away with a squeak. It really did seem to be leading them on. Gennaro frowned. "How smart are they?" he said. "If you think of them as birds," Grant said, "then you have to wonder. Some new studies show the gray parrot has as much symbolic intelligence as a chimpanzee. And chimpanzees can definitely use language. Now researchers are finding that parrots have the emotional development of a three-year-old child, but their intelligence is unquestioned. Parrots can definitely reason symbolically." "But I've never heard of anybody killed by a parrot," Gennaro grumbled.
Distantly, they could bear the sound of the surf on the island shore. The volcanic fields were behind them now, and they faced a field of boulders. The little raptor climbed up onto one rock, and then abruptly disappeared. "Where'd it go?" Ellie said. Grant was listening to the earphones. The beeping stopped. "He's gone." They hurried forward, and found in the midst of the rocks a small bole, like a rabbit hole. It was perhaps two feet in diameter. As they watched, the juvenile raptor reappeared, blinking in the light. Then it scampered away. "No way," Gennaro said. "No way I'm going down there." Grant said nothing. He and Ellie began to plug in equipment. Soon he had a small video camera attached to a hand-held monitor. He tied the camera to a rope, turned it on, and lowered it down the hole. "You can't see anything that way," Gennaro said. "Let it adjust," Grant said. There was enough light along the upper tunnel for them to see smooth dirt walls, and then the tunnel opened out-suddenly, abruptly. Over the microphone, they heard a squeaking sound. Then a lower, trumpeting sound. More noises, coming from many animals. "Sounds like the nest, all right," Ellie said. "But you can't see anything," Gennaro said. He wiped the sweat off his forehead. "No," Grant said. "But I can hear. " He listened for a while longer, and then hauled the camera out, and set it on the ground. "Let's get started." He climbed up toward the bole. Ellie went to get a flashlight and a shock stick. Grant pulled the gas mask on over his face, and crouched down awkwardly, extending his legs backward. "You can't be serious about going down there," Gennaro said. Grant nodded. "It doesn't thrill me. I'll go first, then Ellie, then you come after." "Now, wait a minute," Gennaro said, in sudden alarm. "Why don't we drop these nerve-gas grenades down the hole, then go down afterward? Doesn't that make more sense?" "Ellie, you got the flashlight?" She handed the flashlight to Grant. "What about it?" Gennaro said. "What do you say?" "I'd like nothing better," Grant said. He backed down toward the hole. "You ever seen anything die from poison gas?" "No . . ." "It generally causes convulsions. Bad convulsions." "Well, I'm sorry if it's unpleasant, but-" "Look," Grant said. "We're going into this nest to find out how many animals have hatched. If you kill the animals first, and some of them fall on the nests in their spasms, that will ruin our ability to see what was there. So we can't do that," "But-" "You made these animals, Mr. Gennaro." "I didn't." "Your money did. Your efforts did. You helped create them. They're your creation. And you can't just kill them because you feel a little nervous now." "I'm not a little nervous," Gennaro said. "I'm scared shi-" "Follow me," Grant said. Ellie handed him a shock stick. He pushed backward through the hole, and grunted. "Tight fit." Grant exhaled, and extended his arms forward in front of him, and there was a kind of whoosh, and he was gone. The bole gaped, empty and black.
"What happened to him?" Gennaro said, alarmed. Ellie stepped forward and leaned close to the hole, listening at the opening. She clicked the radio, said softly, "Alan?" There was a long silence. Then they heard faintly: "I'm here." "Is everything all right, Alan?" Another long silence. When Grant finally spoke, his voice sounded distinctly odd, almost awestruck. "Everything's fine," he said.
Almost Paradigm In the lodge, John Hammond paced back and forth in Malcolm's room. Hammond was impatient and uncomfortable. Since marshaling the effort for his last outburst, Malcolm had slipped into a coma, and now it appeared to Hammond that he might actually die. Of course a helicopter had been sent for, but God knows when it would arrive. The thought that Malcolm might die in the meantime filled Hammond with anxiety and dread. And, paradoxically, Hammond found it all much worse because he disliked the mathematician so much. It was worse than if the man were his friend. Hammond felt that Malcolm's death, should it occur, would be the final rebuke, and that was more than Hammond could bear. In any case, the smell in the room was quite ghastly. Quite ghastly. The rotten decay of human flesh. "Everything . . . parad . . ." Malcolm said, tossing on the pillow. "Is he waking up?" Hammond said. Harding shook his head. "What did he say? Something about paradise?" "I didn't catch it," Harding said. Hammond paced some more. He pushed the window wider, trying to get some fresh air. Finally, when he couldn't stand it, he said, "Is there any problem about going outside?" "I don't think so, no," Harding said. "I think this area is all right." "Well, look, I'm going outside for a bit." "All right," Harding said. He adjusted the flow on the intravenous antibiotics. "I'll be back soon." "All right." Hammond left, stepping out into the daylight, wondering why he had bothered to justify himself to Harding. After all, the man was his employee. Hammond had no need to explain himself. He went through the gates of the fence, looking around the park. It was late afternoon, the time when the blowing mist was thinned, and the sun sometimes came out. The sun was out now, and Hammond took it as an omen. Say what they would, he knew that his park had promise. And even if that impetuous fool Gennaro decided to burn it to the ground, it would not make much difference. Hammond knew that in two separate vaults at InGen headquarters in Palo Alto were dozens of frozen embryos. It would not be a problem to grow them again, on another island, elsewhere in the world. And if there had been problems here, then the next time they would solve those problems. That was how progress occurred. By solving problems. As he thought about it, he concluded that Wu had not really been the man for the job. Wu had obviously been sloppy, too casual with his great undertaking. And Wu had been too preoccupied with the idea of making improvements. Instead of making dinosaurs, he had wanted to improve on them. Hammond suspected darkly that was the reason for the downfall of the park. Wu was the reason. Also, he had to admit that John Arnold was ill suited for the job of chief engineer. Arnold had impressive credentials, but at this point in his career he was tired, and he was a fretful worrier. He hadn't been organized, and he had missed things. Important things. In truth, neither Wu nor Arnold had had the most important characteristic, Hammond decided. The characteristic of vision. That great sweeping act of imagination which evoked a marvelous park, where children pressed against the fences, wondering at the extraordinary creatures, come alive from their storybooks. Real vision. The ability to see the future. The ability to marshal resources to make that future vision a reality. No, neither Wu nor Arnold was suited to that task. And, for that matter, Ed Regis had been a poor choice, too. Harding was at best an indifferent choice. Muldoon was a drunk.. . . Hammond shook his head. He would do better next time. Lost in his thoughts, he headed toward his bungalow, following the little path that ran north from the visitor center. He passed one of the workmen, who nodded curtly. Hammond did not return the nod. He found the Tican workmen to be uniformly insolent. To tell the truth, the choice of this island off Costa Rica had also been unwise. He would not make such obvious mistakes again- When it came, the roar of the dinosaur seemed frighteningly close. Hammond spun so quickly he fell on the path, and when he looked back he thought he saw the shadow of the juvenile T-rex, moving in the foliage beside the flagstone path, moving toward him. What was the T-rex doing here? Why was it outside the fences? Hammond felt a flash of rage: and then he saw the Tican workman, running for his life, and Hammond took the moment to get to his feet and dash blindly into the forest on the opposite side of the path. He was plunged in darkness- he stumbled and fell, his face mashed into wet leaves and damp earth, and he staggered back up to his feet, ran onward, fell again, and then ran once more. Now he was moving down a steep hillside, and he couldn't keep his balance. He tumbled helplessly, rolling and spinning over the soft ground, before finally coming to a stop at the foot of the hill. His face splashed into shallow tepid water, which gurgled around him and ran up his nose. He was lying face down in a little stream. He had panicked! What a fool! He should have gone to his bungalow! Hammond cursed himself. As he got to his feet, he felt a sharp pain in his right ankle that brought tears to his eyes. He tested it gingerly: it might be broken. He forced himself to put his full weight on it, gritting his teeth. Yes. Almost certainly broken.
In the control room, Lex said to Tim, "I wish they had taken us with them to the nest." "It's too dangerous for us, Lex," Tim said. "We have to stay here. Hey, listen to this one." He pressed another button, and a recorded tyrannosaur roar echoed over the loudspeakers in the park. "That's neat," Lex said. "That's better than the other one," "You can do it, too," Tim said. "And if you push this, you get reverb." "Let me try," Lex said. She pushed the button. The tyrannosaur roared again. "Can we make it last longer?" she said. "Sure," Tim said. "We just twist this thing here."
Lying at the bottom of the hill, Hammond heard the tyrannosaur roar, bellowing through the jungle. Jesus. He shivered, hearing that sound. It was terrifying, a scream from some other world. He waited to see what would happen. What would the tyrannosaur do? Had it already gotten that workman? Hammond waited, hearing only the buzz of the jungle cicadas, until he realized he was holding his breath, and let out a long sigh. With his injured ankle, he couldn't climb the hill. He would have to wait at the bottom of the ravine. After the tyrannosaur had gone, he would call for help. Meanwhile, he was in no danger here. Then he heard an amplified voice say, "Come on, Timmy, I get to try it too. Come on. Let me make the noise." The kids! The tyrannosaur roared again, but this time it had distinct musical overtones, and a kind of echo, persisting afterward. "Neat one," said the little girl. "Do it again." Those damned kids! He should never have brought those kids. They had been nothing but trouble from the beginning. Nobody wanted them around-Hammond had only brought them because he thought it would stop Gennaro from destroying the resort, but Gennaro was going to do it anyway. And the kids had obviously gotten into the control room and started fooling around-now, who had allowed that? He felt his heart begin to race, and felt an uneasy shortness of breath. He forced himself to relax. There was nothing wrong. Although he could not climb the hill, he could not be more than a hundred yards from his own bungalow, and the visitor center. Hammond sat down in the damp earth, listening to the sounds in the jungle around him. And then, after a while, he began to shout for help.