Too many lines have been crossed. Genetic power has been unleashed…which of course is going to be catastrophic.
—Dr. Ian Malcolm
Maisie bolted to the dumbwaiter in the wall near the bed. She managed to scramble in and slide the door shut before the person came into the room. Through a tiny crack in the dumbwaiter door she saw Mills enter.
He stood there for a moment, looking across at Lockwood’s body, certain that the overdose of morphine had killed the sick old man. Then he crossed to the medical equipment next to the bed. He flipped a switch, and the equipment hummed to life. A monitor lit up, casting a green glow. The heart monitor showed a flat line—no heartbeat.
He thought he heard a noise in the room. He cocked his head, listening.
Mills turned and walked toward the part of the room the noise had seemed to come from. The only thing there was the dumbwaiter in the wall. He slid open the small door.
Empty.
In the dinosaur containment cell, Owen struggled to pick the lock with the multipurpose pocket tool he always carried with him. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t get the lock to spring open.
Claire looked past him through the bars at the dinosaurs imprisoned all around them. An Allosaurus slowly stood, unable to reach her full height under the concrete ceiling. The dinosaur was cramped in her cell, but Claire still thought she looked beautiful and majestic.
“Do you remember the first time you saw a dinosaur?” she asked.
Owen paused a moment in his attempt to pick the lock. Though he didn’t answer, she could tell by the look on his face that he did remember that moment.
“The first time you see them,” she said, “it’s like a miracle. You’ve read about them in books and seen their bones in museums, but they’re still like myths. You don’t really believe they could’ve existed. And then you see your first one alive, moving, looking back at you. It’s…breathtaking. I just wanted to help bring that feeling to more people. I never—”
“I know,” Owen interrupted. “It’s not your fault.”
“But it is.”
“No. This one’s on me. I showed them the way. I trained the Raptors.”
Claire looked at him. “Would you have come if it weren’t me asking?”
Owen pulled another tool out of his pocket device and tried fitting it into the lock. “Look,” he said, “we’ll talk about it later, okay?”
“If there is a later,” Claire replied matter-of-factly.
“There will be,” Owen said confidently. “I’ve got a cabin to finish.”
Claire smiled. “You gonna have a hammock? I love a hammock.”
“Sorry, hammock’s for the dog,” he said. “But I’ll consider getting a second one. Maybe.”
From the next cell came a loud, low groan. OOORRROOOAAHH!
“What was that?” Claire asked.
OOROOOGHHUNH! Another groan, followed by the sound of something big stirring in the straw on the floor and then slowly standing up.
“Whatever it is, it’s alive,” Owen said. He stopped trying to pick the lock on their cell’s door and walked over to the wall where the sounds had come from. Looking up, he saw a small, metal-barred opening between their cell and the next. He jumped up, grabbed the bars, and pulled himself up so he could see into the next cell.
The cell was identical to theirs: concrete with steel bars. But the floor was lined with straw, and there was a trough with hay, carrots, and other vegetables. The cell’s occupant was ignoring the food, pacing back and forth, huffing angrily.
“Well, look who just woke up!” Owen said.
It was a Stygimoloch—Stiggy for short. The herbivore was compact and built like a linebacker. There were short horns over her nose, and spikes sticking out from the back of her head. But the first thing anyone noticed about a Stiggy was her dome-shaped skull. It rose high above her eyes, like the crown of a bald man’s head. Owen knew that the skull’s bone could be up to nine inches thick. Stiggy liked to butt her unbreakable skull into an attacker’s body.
And that gave Owen an idea.
He let go of the bars and dropped back down to the floor. Then he smiled at Claire and said, “We’re getting out of here.”
In an underground luxury garage, chairs were set up for the dinosaur auction. Buyers filed in and took their seats. Eversoll stood beside a large concrete platform fitted with heavy rails leading to a wide steel door.
“Gentlemen,” Eversoll said. “No photographs, please. All sales are final. Let us begin.”
In their cell, Owen gave a loud, sharp whistle. The Stygimoloch didn’t like the high-pitched sound. It turned and rammed the wall between the two cells with its bony head. THUUUNNK!
“What are you doing?” Claire asked Owen.
“Escaping,” he explained.
He whistled again, and Stiggy slammed into the wall again. THUUUNNNK!
“You sure about this?” Claire asked.