Chapter Text
Chapter 4- Crossfire
The danger of the hurricane passed in phases. A straggling storm pelted the helicopter’s windshield with gusts of gushing rain and wind. Ben Fletcher, the experienced pilot though he was, was unsettled by the winds that rocked the sides of the helicopter. He could barely see through the windshield, the never-ending ripple of rain pouring over the glass making abstract shapes against the glass of the already dark jungle.
Below on a tether was the raptor. Though the animal was unconscious, he could see her white body swaying in the rain on the stretcher on the monitor’s screen. He wasn’t worried about the raptor waking up. The tranquilizers lasted for about five hours, and it had only been two since she was shot down. No, what Ben worried about was harm being caused to the animal by the extreme weather. He needed to place her carefully into a paddock sooner rather than later. Mrs. Blythe would have his head and his flying license if one of her assets was injured, costing the park vet bills and revenue.
Ben could not see the paddocks in the dark. Even with the night vision camera on the monitor, there was an indistinguishable line of fence through the trees. Truthfully, Ben wasn’t sure if where he was hovering was even a paddock. The bending trees and sputtering rain made it hard to see the main road that weaved between the viewing platforms of the opposite paddocks.
Jeanette beside him said, “We need to hurry. Command says that the storm is moving out to sea and that they will be opening the shelters soon. The guests can’t see us drop her.”
Ben tried not to show how much he was sweating, a cold chill gripping his stomach at the thought of accidentally dropping the raptor anywhere but in the right paddock. He asked Jeanette, “Can you see the raptor paddock?”
Jeanette synched her tablet to the monitor and switched on the artificial fence guide. Her screen showed the perimeter of the fence in green. The stretcher was about thirty-feet off from it, directly inside of the paddock where the grassland met the jungle. She gave him a thumbs up and said, “It’s all clear, Ben. Drop the asset.”
With a crank of the lever, the stretcher slowly began its descent. The white raptor was a swaying blip on the monitor, disappearing into a grove of trees. A beeping from the radar above the screen indicated that the stretcher had made groundfall, and the cage that held the raptor in her place unlatched automatically, tipping the animal gently into the grass. She would wake up by morning, good as new.
Ben pulled the lever, reeling the stretcher to its place beneath the helicopter. The helicopter shook when the stretcher clicked back into place, and Ben’s heart nearly pounded out of his chest. He quickly set a course back to Ranger Station 1, wanting nothing more than to be back on the ground and out of the storm.
Sunday morning was a slow start for Orla and Jakob. Waves of sunlight stretched across the floor, blanketing the room with soothing silence. Exotic birds called from the jungle outside, erasing all traces of yesterday’s hurricane. Orla hummed her approval at the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the light kiss of Jakob’s lips on her bare shoulder. He trailed kisses up her neck to her temple, gently snuggling his nose into her hair with a soft hum of his own. It was mornings like this that Orla wanted to just melt away into the comfort of a day off, but she couldn’t. There was still work to be done after the hurricane that she needed to oversee.
Orla groaned, sitting up despite Jakob’s lazy kisses tempting her to stay down. He looked up at her with such adoration that Orla almost thought twice about her day, but she was already receiving texts from both Lambert and Clement, demanding her attention for park cleaning oversight.
“Just tell them to figure it out,” said Jakob as Orla tried to burrily read her phone screen, “You delegated everything to the heads of their departments for a reason.”
Orla narrowed her eyes, trying to read Lambert’s text. In all caps, he had written: CODE 11 IN THE HADROSAUR PADDOCK
Orla rushed out of her bed and raced to the window at the sound of sudden screaming.
Blood. There was blood all over the grass.
Seven Edmontosaurs were dead, and an eighth fell to the ground, a white blur tackling it. Priest made quick work of the poor thing, smothering it with a rough tug to its neck. Blood poured from the wound. Jagged flesh hung from her jaws when the raptor looked up at the terrified crowd that gathered to watch. The raptor tilted her head back and swallowed the meat, oblivious to the screams of the tourists.
People continued to shout. Some attempted to throw rocks, toys, and even baby shoes at the raptor to shoo her away from the dying hadrosaur, while others recorded the carnage on their phone screens. The raptor screeched at the flashes of cameras, threatening the guests with a display of her outspread claws.
Rangers tried to force the guests away from the fenceline before she attacked it, but another ripple of screams could be heard from the suite’s window when Priest lunged. She snarled a horrifying sound, electricity sparking as the raptor made contact with the fence at full-throttle. Priest flew back, then returned her attention to the herd, seemingly unphased.
The hadrosaurs scattered to the trees, panicking as they ran along the perimeter of the fence. Priest chased one of the younger parasaurolophus, snapping at its tail. An elder parasaurolophus charged the raptor, shooing her away from the youngling with a bleating trumpet and a shake of her head. Priest scattered back toward the feeder, stopping only to snap again at the flashing cameras. Disoriented, the raptor snarled at the guests who stood inside of the viewing platform. She attempted to attack the glass, earning a choir of shrieks from the people inside.
A ranger’s jeep came on scene, ready to tranquilize the raptor, but their presence irritated the resident triceratops. She bellowed at the jeep, lowering her head. The jeep had no time to turn around or evade the horns of the massive herbivore when she charged. The wheels still spun as the jeep fell onto its side, the passenger door crumpled and pierced by the tike’s horns. There was no movement from inside the jeep but the smoke that rose from the busted engine.
There was hope as the trike waddled away, no longer threatened by the jeep. The driver of the jeep tried to crawl his way out from the flipped passenger side, his fingers digging into the grass. This, unfortunately, caught the attention of Priest.
The raptor took a few steps toward the jeep, her head bobbing low as she inspected the blood-covered hand of the ranger, who had yet to realize that he was being stalked. A head appeared out of the jeep, his scream of surprise devolving into a scream of pain when the raptor clamped her jaws around his hand.
She pulled him from the vehicle, or at least a part of him. Blood gushed out from the jeep’s broken window while the ranger screamed and screamed. Orla could not see what the raptor was doing to the injured ranger from her view above the paddock, but the raptor’s waving tail and bobbing head were enough evidence that the poor man was being eaten alive. Those screams cut short abruptly when Priest found purchase on the poor man’s neck, finally ripping out his throat. When the raptor finally lifted her head, blood covered her slender muzzle and stained her swan-like neck.
Jakob’s quivering voice came up behind her, “Oh my god!”
The Corythosaurs bolted away from Priest. Astrid headbutted the fence, bending the iron bars and scaring the tourists who were gathered there.
Orla quickly ran to dress herself, yelling to Jakob, “Don’t just stand there, do something!”
“Do what?!” cried Jakob.
“Your job!” cried Orla. “Get Lambert on the phone and find out who put her in there! Get a Lawyer! Call Clement to open the shelters! Anything !”
“It’s a madhouse out there!” He said this while still staring out the window, coffee cup shaking in his hands. Like a scared child, Jakob looked at Orla with wide eyes, paralyzed on what to do.
“You’re useless!” snapped Orla, speed-dialing Lambert. “Get Clement on the phone and order him to open the shelters! Those Hadrosaurs will break through the fences at any minute!”
Jakob ran for his already buzzing phone and picked it up. There was yelling on the other end that Orla couldn’t understand. Jakob ran out of the room, throwing on his robe while he listened to whoever it was scream at him.
Lambert finally picked up as Orla hastily buttoned up her blazer, “Mrs. Blythe!-”
“What’s the status of tranquilizing the raptor?” she demanded.
“Jeep 6 is out of commission,” said Lambert, “I’ve already issued one of the ACU helicopters.”
“What about the guests?” asked Orla, speed-walking to the elevator, “Get those shelters open. We don’t need any injury lawsuits. It’s bad enough a member of the staff just died.”
“The guests are already traumatized,” said Lambert, “Isaac opened all the shelters in the park, but it’s doing no good. People are fleeing to the boats like a horde of zombies.”
Orla cursed, slamming the ground floor button five or six times, hissing at how slow the doors to the elevator closed. She pushed her way through the door, deciding to take the stairs. She cursed the whole way down three flights, reading text after text from Clement, who updated her as the park’s rating plummeted from four to one-and-a-half.
Lambert was still on the other line, saying, “ACU got her. The raptor is down. I just received word that they are transferring her to the correct paddock now.”
“Finally!” shouted Orla, “Find out who did this! I want them in my office right now , Lambert!”
There was a jeep already waiting for her at the Grand Saurian’s entrance. Orla slammed the passenger door, greeting Clement with only a flickering glare of her eyes before continuing her conversation with Lambert, “How could this have happened? Who was stupid enough to mistake the hadrosaur paddock for the raptor paddock?! They’re on different ends of the park!”
“The power was out last night, Mrs. Blythe,” reminded Lambert. “The pilot couldn’t see. Mistakes were bound to happen in that weather. We're lucky she was placed inside of the paddock, else things could have been a lot worse.”
“Eight dinosaurs are dead, Lambert!” said Orla. “How much worse can this be?! The park’s reputation is ruined! We’ll be sued for animal welfare and guests’ psychological damage for decades!”
Another incoming call. IAN MALCOLM popped up on her phone’s screen.
“I’ll call you back,” said Orla, cutting off Lambert’s protest as she hung up and switched lines.
“Great job on controlling the dinosaurs, Orla,” said Malcolm, “You’ve really outdone Hammond and Masrani, haven’t you? Only took you about, what, three years to traumatize the tourists?”
“Did you call me just to gloat?” she asked.
“I called you to warn you,” said Malcolm. “Check your voicemails. I’ve already gotten a call from Eli Mills. Someone tipped him off to the incident. He’s livid. The board of directors are already meeting to determine Muerta’s fate. Yours too, most likely.”
“Fuck!” said Orla, “How did he find out?”
“By the same person who sold the story to MSNBC,” said Malcom. “I’m flipping through the channels right now. It’s breaking news. ‘Muerta Falls to Chaos as Raptor Rips Through Herd,’ they’re saying.”
Orla nearly threw her phone, hands shaking as her blood pressure rose.
Clement stayed silent beside her as he drove, his dark eyes focused ahead as the jeep waded its way through the crowd of panicking tourists. A helicopter flew overhead, and Orla poked her head out of the window with Malcolm still on the line. She watched as the stretcher carried the raptor eastward, her white tail swaying over the side of the cage.
Orla swallowed the stone in her throat, and said, “Ian?”
“Yes, Orla?” asked Malcolm on the other end.
“Can you have Finch call the news station? Tell them that everything is under control. The raptor is back where it belongs.”
Two more helicopters flew overhead, carrying the weight of two dead Edmontosaurs, going westward. Their lifeless bodies were drained of all color. Tourists watched as the Edmontosaurs were carried off to be disposed of, shielding their eyes from the sun with both curious and horrified looks on their faces. So did Orla, but her horror was aimed at whoever had tipped off InGen and the news.
This was sabotage.
“Oh, trust me,” said Malcolm, “There is no fixing this. Even if you do get the park back on track, the damage is already done. You’ll have people clamoring for a piece of the settlement pie whether they were at the park today or not, not to mention all of those interviews for their six minutes of fame. Mataneceros’s rating may also be affected by this…I think FlyLinq might be replaced for park oversight in the upcoming weeks, if it hasn't been already. Biosyn threw their hat in the ring, I’ve heard. Whoever sold the story must have planned this.”
“Way ahead of you on that,” said Orla. “Meet me for lunch?”
“I’d be delighted to,” said Malcolm, “I’m curious, what are you craving for your last meal?”
Orla said, watching as two more helicopters carried away another pair of dead hadrosaurs, “Steak.”
Medium rare, and paired with steaming vegetables, the sake that was placed in front of Orla filled her with mouthwatering temptation. She held back on cutting into it, sipping on her red wine instead. She stared Ian Malcolm down as he sat opposite from her with a freshly caught sea bass, garnished with thyme and lemon.
Jakob was beside her, quietly cutting into a ribeye of his own. He hadn’t spoken to her all morning, choosing to sulk like a petulant child after she had rightfully called him useless during the crisis. He glanced up with resentment in his eyes when Ian spoke.
“Have you gotten a hold of Mills yet?” asked Dr. Malcolm.
Orla checked her smart watch. No messages or missed calls.
“They won’t replace FlyLinq,” ensured Jakob with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Benjamin isn’t stupid. He knows we’re the best for the job.”
He did not look like a man whose biggest financial investment had just been tanked, chewing on his medium-rare steak with a glossy gleam to his eye. Jakob was clearly drunk again, red faced with a five-o-clock shadow trailing down his neck. He’d barely looked the part of someone who had decided to get dressed that morning, his Hawaiian shirt slightly wrinkled and smelling of fabric freshener.
“He also said that about Masrani,” reminded Orla, finally tucking into her meal with a delicate bite.
“I wouldn’t bring up Masrani with the paparazzi around,” warned Malcolm quietly, though smiling.
He was right, of course. Reporters flooded into the island in a matter of hours, and agents from every news station available were clambering for an interview from Orla and Jakob. Rangers stood at the door like bodyguards, holding taser sticks for their protection instead of guns.
“I’m just glad that it wasn’t worse,” said Orla. She took another bite of her steak.
“Jesus Orla, a man is dead,” chided Dr. Malcolm, “At least pretend to have some respect for human life, won’t you?”
“He had life insurace. All of our workers do. They know the risks of working up close with these animals,” said Orla, “Besides, FlyLinq has more than enough damages to cover. The hadrosaur fences are damaged, a jeep is totally destroyed, our ratings have plummeted, and FlyLinq might lose its endorsements. If any guests had been injured, we would have lost everything, and I do mean everything , to public settlements.”
“You still could,” said Dr. Malcolm, “People watched a man be viciously mauled by one of the deadliest animals on the planet. Not to mention all of those little kids seeing their favorite dinosaur’s throats get ripped out.”
Orla dabbed at her lips before asking Dr. Malcolm, “Have you heard anything about the pilot?”
Dr. Malcolm played with a radish on his plate, his eyebrows meeting before he said, “No, I haven’t. In fact, total silence. It seems someone is protecting them. I did warn you that there would be people who didn’t approve of this project, didn’t I?”
“Why wait three years?” wondered Orla aloud to herself, “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Oh, it makes perfect sense,” corrected Dr. Malcolm, “FlyLinq fixed Jurassic World, fixed it enough to create a second park! Both of which are thriving , mind you! Your competitors can’t handle that. They want what you have, and are probably paying someone on this island to get it for them.”
“You mean sabotage the park,” said Orla, “Do you think Biosyn is behind this?”
“I think Dodgson might be up to his old tricks,” said Dr. Malcolm, taking a bite of his bass with a clever grin. “I already told you, there’s talk in the boardroom. Eli actually does have his eye on Biosyn.”
“InGen wouldn’t hire their own competitor,” hissed Orla, leaning toward Dr. Malcolm, “That’s insane!”
“No, that’s genius,” corrected Dr. Malcolm, again, “If you can’t beat ‘em, hire and invest in ‘em.”
“I don’t think that’s the saying,” said Jakob, confused and smirking.
“Benjamin would never go for it,” insisted Orla.
“Benjamin Lockwood no longer has a say in the matter,” said Dr. Malcolm, “Eli Mills is in charge now, and all of InGen’s investors are scrambling to save their asses from another financial hit after this incident. Nublar was bad enough. If these parks keep failing, InGen’s wallets will eventually hurt a little too much. Mills will throw FlyLinq under the bus if need be to save InGen from another failed dinosaur park, mark my words.”
Orla lost her appetite.
Her phone began to buzz on the table, synching to her smartwatch. It flashed to show that someone was calling her. Orla excused herself from the table and walked toward the bathrooms, answering Isaac Clement’s call.
He said, “Mrs. Blythe, I’ve just received some very bad news.”
“What is it?” asked Orla, eyes flicking over to Jakob, who laughed loudly at something Dr. Malcolm had said.
“Muerta is bankrupt. Jurassic World’s stocks are at an all-time low.”
Orla checked her smartwatch, and he was right. The park’s cash-rate an hour calculator dropped all the way to zero. That number dropped into hundreds of negatives every second. Her smartwatch’s clock ticked at 12:02, and the stock dropped by another percentage.
“Damn!” hissed Orla.
Said Clement, “Mrs. Blythe, one more thing: the dig teams we sent out last month from Matanceros have just arrived back from Spain. I think now might be a great time to return to the island and take a look over their findings.”
“We will depart tomorrow morning,” said Orla, “Get one of the boats and a small team ready. Lambert and Reyes will have to stay and hold down the fort, but I think we can manage with just Finch and a few rangers for a while.”
“Will do, Mrs. Blythe,” said Isaac.