First it was Jurassic Park, then Jurassic World. What’s next?
—Dr. Ian Malcolm
Inside a canvas tent, the team studied a map of the island identical to the one Claire had seen in Eli Mills’s office. She put her finger on it. “The only place the tracking system can be activated is here, in the bunker under this radio tower. We get there and we can tap into the main Radio Frequency Identification receiver.”
“So how do we get there?” Franklin asked. “Are there secure underground tunnels? I heard all big theme parks have secret underground tunnels.”
Wheatley smirked, but Claire said, “Actually, there are some tunnels under the park, but none that would get us from here to the bunker. We’ll have to drive.”
With her finger, she traced a route on the map from their current location to the radio tower. “We’ll go down Main Street and through the Gyrosphere Valley.”
Franklin handed out tablet computers modified with antennae. “I fitted these tablets with the old park software. They’ll be able to track each dinosaur’s chip and identify the species once we tap into the system.”
“We have capture teams ready to save as many as we can,” Wheatley said. “But your Raptor’s the one we’re worried about. She’s slippery. It’s like trying to catch a squid with your bare hands.”
Owen smiled and shook his head. “You can’t catch Blue. We have to just hope she shows herself.”
“You think she might do that because of your…connection?” Wheatley asked.
“Our auras vibrate at the same frequency,” Owen answered. “We synced our biological rhythms over many nights hunting naked under the full moon.”
Wheatley just stared at him.
“I’m messing with you, man,” Owen confessed with a grin. “I know what she likes to eat.”
VRRRROOOM! A big six-wheeled armored military vehicle pulled up. Covered in heavy protective metal, it was built to drive through explosives.
“I call that one,” Franklin said as he moved to enter the massive vehicle.
Claire’s team and Wheatley’s trackers piled into two armored vehicles and headed out through the security gates in the fence surrounding the base camp. They were followed by a cage truck just large enough for a Velociraptor.
In one vehicle, Owen sat between Zia and Claire. Wheatley and three of his trackers cleaned their tranquilizer rifles. Through a window, Zia looked up at a guard in a security tower. His hands were on a huge automatic gun.
Franklin knocked on the inside wall of the vehicle, testing its strength. “The T. rex’d be dead by now, right?” he asked, trying to sound casual. “What’s the life span?”
“It’s impossible to know the maximum life span,” Owen said as they rumbled and bounced along. “Especially of a clone in a completely different environment. Take a caveman who would’ve lived twenty years in his natural environment. Feed him prime meals and give him health care, and he’s gonna live five times as long.”
That wasn’t the answer Franklin wanted to hear. “So,” he repeated slowly to himself, “the T. rex’d be dead by now, right?”
The caravan of three vehicles made its way into the jungle. Ash fell from the smoking volcano looming in the distance.
They soon reached Jurassic World’s old Main Street. Once a place where park visitors took breaks from dinosaur sightseeing and grabbed a bite to eat, or purchased souvenirs for friends and family back home, this relic of happier times was now being swallowed up by the encroaching jungle. Vines climbed over the buildings. Windows were broken. Old merchandise from the gift shop was scattered on the ground.
Claire stared out the reinforced windows of the armored vehicle, remembering the crowds running down this street, screaming and fleeing from the Pteranodons. She remembered trying to protect her nephews from the dinosaurs. The Velociraptors. The Tyrannosaurus rex. The Indominus Rex. The Mosasaurus….
“There’s a Brachiosaurus,” Zia exclaimed, “right through those trees!”
As they watched the huge, long-necked vegetarian nibble the leaves at the tops of the trees, Wheatley eyed Claire and Owen. “They’re not all so friendly,” he said. “Remember?”
Claire and Owen locked eyes. Yes, they remembered.
The caravan passed through Main Street and the scene quickly opened up onto Gyrosphere Valley. The vehicles rolled through the overgrown meadow littered with the bleached bones of dinosaurs that carnivores had picked clean. Broken and abandoned Gyrospheres, glass vehicles that visitors once drove among the giant dinosaurs of Jurassic World, were scattered around the valley floor like the forgotten toys of a giant.
It didn’t take much longer for them to reach their target: a bunker dug into a mountain, overlooking the valley. Mounted high above the bunker was a tall, rusted radio tower.
The three vehicles rolled up and parked. Claire’s team got out. Claire pointed to an access panel. Franklin patched in his tablet and started trying to get past the security system to open the bunker’s door.
As Franklin worked, Owen, Claire, and Zia looked out over the ruined park.
Suddenly, there was a loud rumble, and the earth shook violently!
Franklin yelped and grabbed onto Owen. Claire steadied herself against the bunker wall. Zia just rolled with the tremor.
Wheatley smiled at Franklin’s panic. “Easy, tiger. That was a small one.”
Turning back to his tablet, Franklin punched in a few final numbers. The bunker doors slowly ground open. “After you, tiger,” he said to Wheatley with a wry smile.
Wheatley went inside. Claire and her team followed him. Most of Wheatley’s men stayed outside to stand watch, their rifles ready.
It was dusty inside the bunker, which was filled with long-dead computer monitors and radio equipment. Franklin opened a metal cabinet. Inside were hundreds of wires. He found the ones he was looking for and patched his laptop into the system. Here and there, lights blinked on as power began to surge through the long-dormant equipment.
“Are the animals’ ID chips still transmitting?” Owen asked. “Wouldn’t the batteries be dead by now?”
“The dinosaur is the battery,” Claire explained. “The transmitters are powered by body heat and the animal’s movement.” She put her palm against a hand scanner. It lit up, authorizing entry to the system. Turning to Franklin, she asked, “How long will it take you to—”
“I’m in,” Franklin said.
Owen raised his eyebrows, impressed. “They could use you at the National Security Administration.”
“Applied,” Franklin said. “Twice.”
“He lacks the interpersonal skills necessary for mainstream employment,” Zia explained.
A map of the park appeared on a screen, with dots showing each dinosaur’s location. Several were clustered on the island’s eastern shore. “Those are the ones we’ve already caught,” Wheatley said. “Eleven species. Can you single out the Raptor?”
“I need a species code,” Franklin said.
“D-nine,” Owen said without hesitation.
Franklin typed the code into his tablet. All but one of the dots disappeared.
“There she is,” Owen said. He turned to Franklin. “Can you make the tracking system portable?”
He handed Owen a tablet. “Already have. I just need to stay logged in here to transmit to your tablets.”
“I’m going with you,” Zia told Owen. “We don’t know what condition she’s in.”
“Could get ugly out there, Miss,” Wheatley warned.
Zia held up a massive tranquilizer cartridge. “These are powerful sedatives. One too many and she could have respiratory failure. If that happens, you’re gonna need me around. Also, I’m not soft and witless like your comment implies.”
She strode off, and Owen, amused, started to follow her out. Claire stopped him. “Hey,” she said, “be careful.”
“If I don’t make it back,” he said, “remember you’re the one who made me come.”
She smiled, and he left.
The military vehicle rumbled along the edge of the jungle. Inside, Owen studied his tablet. Blue was close.
“Stop here,” he said. “She’ll know we’re coming no matter what, but I can’t get near her in this thing.” The vehicle braked to a halt.
“Let’s load out,” Wheatley said.
Owen led the way into the dense brush. Wearing a medical backpack, Zia followed close behind him. Wheatley and his men brought up the rear. They were on edge and alert, with their tranquilizer rifles ready.
They cautiously approached the partially eaten carcass of a dinosaur. Some carnivore had been feeding there. Recently.
Wheatley gestured toward Owen’s tablet with its tracking signal. “Kind of takes the sport out of it.”
Owen looked at him. “This isn’t my idea of sport.”
Behind them, in the dark jungle foliage, something was moving….
“Animal tracking is the oldest sport,” Wheatley insisted. “It’s in our DNA. Aiming. Running. Team sports. Pretty much anything anyone likes to do outdoors goes back to our instinct to hunt.”
Zia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You know we’re not hunting this animal, right?”
“Hunting, tracking.” Wheatley shrugged. “It’s all the same.”
Owen spotted something in the mud. Raptor tracks. He checked his tablet. Blue’s beacon was close. He put the tablet in Zia’s backpack. “I’m going on alone.”
“Whatever you say,” Wheatley said. He’d lost two men to Blue, and he didn’t want to be the third.