We’ve taken things too far.
—Dr. Ian Malcolm
“Hey!” Owen yelled. “I said to wait for my signal!”
Wheatley and his trackers emerged from the bushes, their weapons raised and aimed at Blue. It was Wheatley who had shot her with the tranquilizer, unwilling to wait. He had no intention of letting the Raptor get away.
Blue staggered slightly but didn’t fall down. She was woozy, but a single dart wasn’t enough to knock her out.
“Wheatley, back off!” Owen shouted, furious that his careful approach to Blue had been ruined. How could he ever expect her to trust him after this?
“Don’t get angry, now,” Wheatley said to Blue, ignoring Owen. He kept aiming his trank rifle right at Blue. “These darts won’t hurt you. Just a little prick—like getting your wisdom teeth out.”
A bearded tracker fired another dart. But the shot came too late. Blue was already airborne.
The Raptor leapt through the air and landed on the lead tracker, digging her sharp sickle-shaped claw in deep. It stuck in his claw-proof vest, which saved his life…but only for a moment, and he knew it. In a near panic, the tracker yanked his sidearm out of its holster. This was no tranquilizer gun. It was a pistol loaded with real bullets.
“NO!” Owen yelled. “Don’t shoot!”
BLAM! The bullet hit Blue’s leg. She screeched, then opened her mouth wide enough to fit around the man’s entire head.
“SHOOT IT!” he screamed. “SHOO—”
CHOMP! In a single powerful bite, Blue took care of the tracker. He wouldn’t be bothering her ever again.
But then, THHHUKKK! Another dart, fired by Wheatley, hit Blue. She snarled in pain, starting to run toward Wheatley to attack, but just before she reached him, she dropped to the ground, knocked out cold by the tranquilizer.
“You!” Owen couldn’t contain his fury. He charged at Wheatley, planning to tackle him to the ground, to punish him for his responsibility in the wounding of Blue and the needless death of the tracker.
Wheatley calmly turned and aimed his tranquilizer gun at Owen.
“Owen, watch out!” Zia yelled.
Owen grabbed one of the trackers and spun him toward Wheatley. THUKKK! Wheatley’s dart hit his own man right in the chest. The tracker went limp in Owen’s arms.
Owen flung the unconscious man aside and drew his own gun. THUKKK! Another one of Wheatley’s men fired his trank gun at Owen, hitting him in the side. The power of the dart’s impact jerked him back. He dropped to his knees, fighting the powerful sedative rushing through his veins. He locked eyes with Wheatley and gave him a burning look full of rage. Wheatley returned his look with a smile of utter contempt as Owen’s eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Zia ran to Owen’s side and pulled out the dart. Behind her, a trank rifle clicked as Wheatley reloaded. Without hesitating, Zia picked up the unconscious tracker’s tranquilizer rifle and aimed it at Wheatley.
At Zia’s feet, Owen and Blue lay motionless on the jungle floor, while all around, Wheatley and his men aimed their trank rifles at her.
It was a standoff.
“You shoot, and it’ll take four seconds for the tranquilizer to reach my brain,” she said, speaking slowly and clearly. “That’s plenty of time for me to pull the trigger.”
A drop of sweat trickled down Zia’s forehead.
“You shoot me,” she said, jerking her head toward Blue, “and that animal dies.”
Wheatley hesitated. Zia kept the trank gun pointed right at him. “We have doctors,” he said. “We don’t need you.”
“She’s losing blood from her gunshot wound,” Zia countered. “Without me, you’ll never get her back to camp alive.”
Wheatley looked down at Blue. He hated to admit it, but Zia was right. The Raptor was bleeding from the wound in her leg where his man had shot her. He needed this dinosaur to live.
He nodded to his men, a single quick lift of his chin. They lowered their weapons. “Keep her alive,” he barked at Zia. “Follow my orders. You’re to be seen, not heard. Got it?”
Zia lowered her trank rifle and turned to Blue, hoping to stop her bleeding.
Wheatley looked up at the smoking volcano and wiped sweat from his brow. One of the trackers came up to him and spoke softly so Zia couldn’t hear. “What about him?” he asked, indicating Owen with a quick move of his head.
Wheatley gave a quick, cold smile. “Leave him. Got your tablet?”
The tracker nodded and pulled out a computer tablet.
“Good,” Wheatley said. “Close that door we left open.”
In the bunker, Claire clicked the button on her radio. “Owen, can you hear me?” No voice came in return, only static.
“Something happened to them,” Claire said, worried.
“If something happened to them,” Franklin asked, “what happens to us?”
BOOOOM! Another tremor—stronger, louder, deep in the earth. Dust fell from the ceiling. Claire and Franklin froze.
BOOOOM! A crack spidered up the wall and across the ceiling.
“Nature’s angry,” Franklin said.
Claire headed down the long corridor toward the open bunker doors to see what was going on outside. Franklin followed her. But as they made their way down the hall, the bunker doors started to close!
“No! Wait!” Claire shouted, running now, with Franklin close behind.
SLAM! The thick doors sealed shut in their faces.