Jurassic Park _ A Novel -- Crichton, Michael -- Jurassic Park 1, 2012 -- Random House Publishing Group -- 9780307763051 -- 3de76fc510cf7aa828af34881aaf1176 -- Anna’s Archive.8

“But we can’t get past them in the boat,” Lex said. “They’re poison.” “We have to,” Grant said. “Somehow.” The dilophosaurs continued to drink and hoot. They seemed to be interacting with each other in a strangely ritualistic, repetitive way. The animal on the left would bend to drink, opening its mouth to bare long rows of sharp teeth, and then it would hoot. The animal on the right would hoot in reply and bend to drink, in a mirror image of the first animal’s movements. Then the sequence would be repeated, exactly the same way. Grant noticed that the animal on the right was smaller, with smaller spots on its back, and its crest was a duller red— “I’ll be damned,” he said. “It’s a mating ritual.” “Can we get past them?” Tim asked. “Not the way they are now. They’re right by the edge of the water.” Grant knew animals often performed such mating rituals for hours at a time. They went without food, they paid attention to nothing else.… He glanced at his watch. Nine-twenty. “What do we do?” Tim said. Grant sighed. “I have no idea.” He sat down in the raft, and then the dilophosaurs began to honk and roar repeatedly, in agitation. He looked up. The animals were both facing away from the river. “What is it?” Lex said. Grant smiled. “I think we’re finally getting some help.” He pushed off from the bank. “I want you two kids to lie flat on the rubber. We’ll go past as fast as we can. But just remember: whatever happens, don’t say anything, and don’t move. Okay?” The raft began to drift downstream, toward the hooting dilophosaurs. It gained speed. Lex lay at Grant’s feet, staring at him with frightened eyes. They were coming closer to the dilophosaurs, which were still turned away from the river. But he pulled out his air pistol, checked the chamber. The raft continued on, and they smelled a peculiar odor, sweet and nauseating at the same time. It smelled like dried vomit. The hooting of the dilophosaurs was louder. The raft came around a final bend and Grant caught his breath. The dilophosaurs were just a few feet away, honking at the trees beyond the river. As Grant had suspected, they were honking at the tyrannosaur. The tyrannosaur was trying to break through the foliage, and the dilos hooted and stomped their feet in the mud. The raft drifted past them. The smell was nauseating. The tyrannosaur roared, probably because it saw the raft. But in another moment… A thump. The raft stopped moving. They were aground, against the riverbank, just a few feet downstream from the dilophosaurs. Lex whispered, “Oh, great.” There was a long slow scraping sound of the raft against the mud. Then the raft was moving again. They were going down the river. The tyrannosaur roared a final time and moved off; one dilophosaur looked surprised, then hooted. The other dilophosaur hooted in reply.


Jurassic Park _ A Novel -- Crichton, Michael -- Jurassic Park 1, 2012 -- Random House Publishing Group -- 9780307763051 -- 3de76fc510cf7aa828af34881aaf1176 -- Anna’s Archive.9

The raft floated downriver.


Jurassic Park _ A Novel -- Crichton, Michael -- Jurassic Park 1, 2012 -- Random House Publishing Group -- 9780307763051 -- 3de76fc510cf7aa828af34881aaf1176 -- Anna’s Archive.1

Jurassic Park TYRANNOSAUR The Jeep bounced along in the glaring sun. Muldoon was driving, with Gennaro at his side. They were in an open field, moving away from the dense line of foliage and palm trees that marked the course of the river, a hundred yards to the east. They came to a rise, and Muldoon stopped the car. “Christ, it’s hot,” he said, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. He drank from the bottle of whiskey between his knees, then offered it to Gennaro. Gennaro shook his head. He stared at the landscape shimmering in the morning heat. Then he looked down at the onboard computer and video monitor mounted in the dashboard. The monitor showed views of the park from remote cameras. Still no sign of Grant and the children. Or of the tyrannosaur. The radio crackled. “Muldoon.” Muldoon picked up the handset. “Yeah.” “You got your onboards? I found the rex. He’s in grid 442. Going to 443.” “Just a minute,” Muldoon said, adjusting the monitor. “Yeah. I got him now. Following the river.” The animal was slinking along the foliage that lined the banks of the river, going north. “Take it easy with him. Just immobilize him.” “Don’t worry,” Muldoon said, squinting in the sun. “I won’t hurt him.” “Remember,” Arnold said, “the tyrannosaur’s our main tourist attraction.” Muldoon turned off his radio with a crackle of static. “Bloody fool,” he said. “They’re still talking about tourists.” Muldoon started the engine. “Let’s go see Rexy and give him a dose.” The Jeep jolted over the terrain. “You’re looking forward to this,” Gennaro said. “I’ve wanted to put a needle in this big bastard for a while,” Muldoon said. “And there he is.” They came to a wrenching stop. Through the windshield, Gennaro saw the tyrannosaur directly ahead of them, moving among the palm trees along the river. Muldoon drained the whiskey bottle and threw it in the backseat. He reached back for his tubing. Gennaro looked at the video monitor, which showed their Jeep and the tyrannosaur. There must be a closed-circuit camera in the trees somewhere behind. “You want to help,” Muldoon said, “you can break out those canisters by your feet.” Gennaro bent over and opened a stainless-steel Halliburton case. It was padded inside with foam. Four cylinders, each the size of a quart milk bottle, were nestled in the foam. They were all labeled MORO-709. He took one out. “You snap off the tip and screw on a needle,” Muldoon explained. Gennaro found a plastic package of large needles, each the diameter of his fingertip. He screwed one onto the canister. The opposite end of the canister had a circular lead weight. “That’s the plunger. Compresses on impact.” Muldoon sat forward with the air rifle across his knees. It was made of heavy gray tubular metal and looked to Gennaro like a bazooka or a rocket launcher. “What’s MORO-709?” “Standard animal trank,” Muldoon said. “Zoos around the world use it.


Jurassic Park _ A Novel -- Crichton, Michael -- Jurassic Park 1, 2012 -- Random House Publishing Group -- 9780307763051 -- 3de76fc510cf7aa828af34881aaf1176 -- Anna’s Archive.2

We’ll try a thousand cc’s to start.” Muldoon cracked open the chamber, which was large enough to insert his fist. He slipped the canister into the chamber and closed it. “That should do it,” Muldoon said. “Standard elephant gets about two hundred cc’s, but they’re only two or three tons each. Tyrannosaurus rex is eight tons, and a lot meaner. That matters to the dose.” “Why?” “Animal dose is partly body weight and partly temperament. You shoot the same dose of 709 into an elephant, a hippo, and a rhino—you’ll immobilize the elephant, so it just stands there like a statue. You’ll slow down the hippo, so it gets kind of sleepy but it keeps moving. And the rhino will just get fighting mad. But, on the other hand, you chase a rhino for more than five minutes in a car and he’ll drop dead from adrenaline shock. Strange combination of tough and delicate.” Muldoon drove slowly toward the river, moving closer to the tyrannosaur. “But those are all mammals. We know a lot about handling mammals, because zoos are built around the big mammalian attractions—lions, tigers, bears, elephants. We know a lot less about reptiles. And nobody knows anything about dinosaurs. The dinosaurs are new animals.” “You consider them reptiles?” Gennaro said. “No,” Muldoon said, shifting gears. “Dinosaurs don’t fit existing categories.” He swerved to avoid a rock. “Actually, what we find is, the dinosaurs were as variable as mammals are today. Some dinos are tame and cute, and some are mean and nasty. Some of them see well, and some of them don’t. Some of them are stupid, and some of them are very, very intelligent.” “Like the raptors?” Gennaro said. Muldoon nodded. “Raptors are smart. Very smart. Believe me, all the problems we have so far,” he said, “are nothing compared with what we’d have if the raptors ever got out of their holding pen. Ah. I think this is as close as we can get to our Rexy.” Up ahead, the tyrannosaur was poking its head through the branches, peering toward the river. Trying to get through. Then the animal moved a few yards downstream, to try again. “Wonder what he sees in there?” Gennaro said. “Hard to know,” Muldoon said. “Maybe he’s trying to get to the microceratopsians that scramble around in the branches. They’ll run him a merry chase.” Muldoon stopped the Jeep about fifty yards away from the tyrannosaur, and turned the vehicle around. He left the motor running. “Get behind the wheel,” Muldoon said. “And put your seat belt on.” He took another canister and hooked it onto his shirt. Then he got out. Gennaro slid behind the wheel. “You done this very often before?” Muldoon belched. “Never. I’ll try to get him just behind the auditory meatus. We’ll see how it goes from there.” He walked ten yards behind the Jeep and crouched down in the grass on one knee.


Jurassic Park _ A Novel -- Crichton, Michael -- Jurassic Park 1, 2012 -- Random House Publishing Group -- 9780307763051 -- 3de76fc510cf7aa828af34881aaf1176 -- Anna’s Archive.3

He steadied the big gun against his shoulder, and flipped up the thick telescopic sight. Muldoon aimed at the tyrannosaur, which still ignored them. There was a burst of pale gas, and Gennaro saw a white streak shoot forward in the air toward the tyrannosaur. But nothing seemed to happen. Then the tyrannosaur turned slowly, curiously, to peer at them. It moved its head from side to side, as if looking at them with alternate eyes. Muldoon had taken down the launcher, and was loading the second canister. “You hit him?” Gennaro said. Muldoon shook his head. “Missed. Damn laser sights … See if there’s a battery in the case.” “A what?” Gennaro said. “A battery,” Muldoon said. “It’s about as big as your finger. Gray markings.” Gennaro bent over to look in the steel case. He felt the vibration of the Jeep, heard the motor ticking over. He didn’t see a battery. The tyrannosaur roared. To Gennaro it was a terrifying sound, rumbling from the great chest cavity of the animal, bellowing out over the landscape. He sat up sharply and reached for the steering wheel, put his hand on the gearshift. On the radio, he heard a voice say, “Muldoon. This is Arnold. Get out of there. Over.” “I know what I’m doing,” Muldoon said. The tyrannosaur charged. Muldoon stood his ground. Despite the creature racing toward him, he slowly and methodically raised his launcher, aimed, and fired. Once again, Gennaro saw the puff of smoke, and the white streak of the canister going toward the animal. Nothing happened. The tyrannosaur continued to charge. Now Muldoon was on his feet and running, shouting, “Go! Go!” Gennaro put the Jeep in gear and Muldoon threw himself onto the side door as the Jeep lurched forward. The tyrannosaur was closing rapidly, and Muldoon swung the door open and climbed inside. “Go, damn it! Go!” Gennaro floored it. The Jeep bounced precariously, the front end nosing so high they saw only sky through the windshield, then slamming down again toward the ground and racing forward again. Gennaro headed for a stand of trees to the left until, in the rearview mirror, he saw the tyrannosaur give a final roar and turn away. Gennaro slowed the car. “Jesus.” Muldoon was shaking his head. “I could have sworn I hit him the second time.” “I’d say you missed,” Gennaro said. “Needle must have broken off before the plunger injected.” “Admit it, you missed.” “Yeah,” Muldoon said. He sighed. “I missed. Battery was dead in the damned laser sights. My fault. I should have checked it, after it was out all last night. Let’s go back and get more canisters.” The Jeep headed north, toward the hotel. Muldoon picked up the radio. “Control.” “Yes,” Arnold said. “We’re heading back to base.” The river was now very narrow, and flowing swiftly. The raft was going faster all the time. It was starting to feel like an amusement park ride.


Jurassic Park _ A Novel -- Crichton, Michael -- Jurassic Park 1, 2012 -- Random House Publishing Group -- 9780307763051 -- 3de76fc510cf7aa828af34881aaf1176 -- Anna’s Archive.4

“Whee!” Lex yelled, holding on to the gunwale. “Faster, faster!” Grant squinted, looking forward. The river was still narrow and dark, but farther ahead he could see the trees ended, and there was bright sunlight beyond, and a distant roaring sound. The river seemed to end abruptly in a peculiar flat line.… The raft was going still faster, rushing forward. Grant grabbed for his paddles. “What is it?” “It’s a waterfall,” Grant said. The raft swept out of the overhanging darkness into brilliant morning sunlight, and raced forward on the swift current toward the lip of the waterfall. The roar was loud in their ears. Grant paddled as strongly as he could, but he only succeeded in spinning the boat in circles. It continued inexorably toward the lip. Lex leaned toward him. “I can’t swim!” Grant saw that she did not have her life vest clasped, but there was nothing he could do about it; with frightening speed, they came to the edge, and the roar of the waterfall seemed to fill the world. Grant jammed his oar deep into the water, felt it catch and hold, right at the lip; the rubber raft shuddered in the current, but they did not go over. Grant strained against the oar and, looking over the edge, saw the sheer drop of fifty feet down to the surging pool below. And standing in the surging pool, waiting for them, was the tyrannosaur. Lex was screaming in panic, and then the boat spun, and the rear end dropped away, spilling them out into air and roaring water, and they fell sickeningly. Grant flailed his arms in the air, and the world went suddenly silent and slow. It seemed to him he fell for long minutes; he had time to observe Lex, clutching her orange jacket, falling alongside him; he had time to observe Tim, looking down at the bottom; he had time to observe the frozen white sheet of the waterfall; he had time to observe the bubbling pool beneath him as he fell slowly, silently toward it. Then, with a stinging slap, Grant plunged into cold water, surrounded by white boiling bubbles. He tumbled and spun and glimpsed the leg of the tyrannosaur as he was swirled past it, swept down through the pool and out into the stream beyond. Grant swam for the shore, clutched warm rocks, slipped off, caught a branch, and finally pulled himself out of the main current. Gasping, he dragged himself on his belly onto the rocks, and looked at the river just in time to see the brown rubber raft tumble past him. Then he saw Tim, battling the current, and he reached out and pulled him, coughing and shivering, onto the shore beside him. Grant turned back to the waterfall, and saw the tyrannosaur plunge its head straight down into the water of the pool at his feet. The great head shook, splashing water to either side. It had something between its teeth.


Jurassic Park _ A Novel -- Crichton, Michael -- Jurassic Park 1, 2012 -- Random House Publishing Group -- 9780307763051 -- 3de76fc510cf7aa828af34881aaf1176 -- Anna’s Archive.5

And then the tyrannosaur lifted its head back up. Dangling from the jaws was Lex’s orange life vest. A moment later, Lex bobbed to the surface beside the dinosaur’s long tail. She lay facedown in the water, her little body swept downstream by the current. Grant plunged into the water after her, was again immersed in the churning torrent. A moment later, he pulled her up onto the rocks, a heavy, lifeless weight. Her face was gray. Water poured from her mouth. Grant bent over her to give her mouth-to-mouth but she coughed. Then she vomited yellow-green liquid and coughed again. Her eyelids fluttered. “Hi,” she said. She smiled weakly. “We did it.” Tim started to cry. She coughed again. “Will you stop it? What’re you crying for?” “Because.” “We were worried about you,” Grant said. Small flecks of white were drifting down the river. The tyrannosaur was tearing up the life vest. Still turned away from them, facing the waterfall. But at any minute the animal might turn and see them.… “Come on, kids,” he said. “Where are we going?” Lex said, coughing. “Come on.” He was looking for a hiding place. Downstream he saw only an open grassy plain, affording no protection. Upstream was the dinosaur. Then Grant saw a dirt path by the river. It seemed to lead up toward the waterfall. And in the dirt he saw the clear imprint of a man’s shoe. Leading up the path. The tyrannosaur finally turned around, growling and looking out toward the grassy plain. It seemed to have figured out that they had gotten away. It was looking for them downstream. Grant and the kids ducked among the big ferns that lined the riverbanks. Cautiously, he led them upstream. “Where are we going?” Lex said. “We’re going back.” “I know.” They were closer to the waterfall now, the roar much louder. The rocks became slippery, the path muddy. There was a constant hanging mist. It was like moving through a cloud. The path seemed to lead right into the rushing water, but as they came closer, they saw that it actually went behind the waterfall. The tyrannosaur was still looking downstream, its back turned to them. They hurried along the path to the waterfall, and had almost moved behind the sheet of falling water when Grant saw the tyrannosaur turn. Then they were completely behind the waterfall, and Grant was unable to see out through the silver sheet. Grant looked around in surprise. There was a little recess here, hardly larger than a closet, and filled with machinery: humming pumps and big filters and pipes. Everything was wet, and cold. “Did he see us?” Lex said. She had to shout over the noise of the falling water. “Where are we? What is this place? Did he see us?” “Just a minute,” Grant said. He was looking at the equipment. This was clearly park machinery.


Jurassic Park _ A Novel -- Crichton, Michael -- Jurassic Park 1, 2012 -- Random House Publishing Group -- 9780307763051 -- 3de76fc510cf7aa828af34881aaf1176 -- Anna’s Archive.6

And there must be electricity to run it, so perhaps there was also a telephone for communication. He poked among the filters and pipes. “What are you doing?” Lex shouted. “Looking for a telephone.” It was now nearly 10:00 a.m. They had just a little more than an hour to contact the ship before it reached the mainland. In the back of the recess he found a metal door marked MAINT 04, but it was firmly locked. Next to it was a slot for a security card. Alongside the door he saw a row of metal boxes. He opened the boxes one after another, but they contained only switches and timers. No telephone. And nothing to open the door. He almost missed the box to the left of the door. On opening it, he found a nine-button keypad, covered with spots of green mold. But it looked as if it was a way to open the door, and he had the feeling that on the other side of that door was a phone. Scratched in the metal of the box was the number 1023. He punched it in. With a hiss, the door came open. Gaping darkness beyond, concrete steps leading downward. On the back wall he saw stenciled MAINT VEHICLE 04/22 CHARGER and an arrow pointing down the stairs. Could it really mean there was a car? “Come on, kids.” “Forget it,” Lex said. “I’m not going in there.” “Come on, Lex,” Tim said. “Forget it,” Lex said. “There’s no lights or anything. I’m not going.” “Never mind,” Grant said. There wasn’t time to argue. “Stay here, and I’ll be right back.” “Where’re you going?” Lex said, suddenly alarmed. Grant stepped through the door. It gave an electronic beep, and snapped shut behind him, on a spring. Grant was plunged into total darkness. After a moment of surprise, he turned to the door and felt its damp surface. There was no knob, no latch. He turned to the walls on either side of the door, feeling for a switch, a control box, anything at all.… There was nothing. He was fighting panic when his fingers closed over a cold metal cylinder. He ran his hands over a swelling edge, a flat surface … a flashlight! He clicked it on, and the beam was surprisingly bright. He looked back at the door, but saw that it would not open. He would have to wait for the kids to unlock it. Meantime … He started for the steps. They were damp and slippery with mold, and he went down carefully. Partway down the stairs, he heard a sniffing and the sound of claws scratching on concrete. He took out his dart pistol, and proceeded cautiously. The steps bent around the corner, and as he shone his light, an odd reflection glinted back, and then, a moment later, he saw it: a car!


Jurassic Park _ A Novel -- Crichton, Michael -- Jurassic Park 1, 2012 -- Random House Publishing Group -- 9780307763051 -- 3de76fc510cf7aa828af34881aaf1176 -- Anna’s Archive.7

It was an electric car, like a golf cart, and it faced a long tunnel that seemed to stretch away for miles. A bright red light glowed by the steering wheel of the car, so perhaps it was charged. Grant heard the sniffing again, and he wheeled and saw a pale shape rise up toward him, leaping through the air, its jaws open, and without thinking Grant fired. The animal landed on him, knocking him down, and he rolled away in fright, his flashlight swinging wildly. But the animal didn’t get up, and he felt foolish when he saw it. It was a velociraptor, but very young, less than a year old. It was about two feet tall, the size of a medium dog, and it lay on the ground, breathing shallowly, the dart sticking from beneath its jaw. There was probably too much anesthetic for its body weight, and Grant pulled the dart out quickly. The velociraptor looked at him with slightly glazed eyes. Grant had a clear feeling of intelligence from this creature, a kind of softness which contrasted strangely with the menace he had felt from the adults in the pen. He stroked the head of the velociraptor, hoping to calm it. He looked down at the body, which was shivering slightly as the tranquilizer took hold. And then he saw it was a male. A young juvenile, and a male. There was no question what he was seeing. This velociraptor had been bred in the wild. Excited by this development, he hurried back up the stairs to the door. With his flashlight, he scanned the flat, featureless surface of the door, and the interior walls. As he ran his hands over the door, it slowly dawned on him that he was locked inside, and unable to open it, unless the kids had the presence of mind to open it for him. He could hear them, faintly, on the other side of the door. “Dr. Grant!” Lex shouted, pounding the door. “Dr. Grant!” “Take it easy,” Tim said. “He’ll be back.” “But where did he go?” “Listen, Dr. Grant knows what he’s doing,” Tim said. “He’ll be back in a minute.” “He should come back now,” Lex said. She bunched her fists on her hips, pushed her elbows wide. She stamped her foot angrily. And then, with a roar, the tyrannosaur’s head burst through the waterfall toward them. Tim stared in horror as the big mouth gaped wide. Lex shrieked and threw herself on the ground. The head swung back and forth, and pulled out again. But Tim could see the shadow of the animal’s head on the sheet of falling water. He pulled Lex deeper into the recess, just as the jaws burst through again, roaring, the thick tongue flicking in and out rapidly. Water sprayed in all directions from the head. Then it pulled out again. Lex huddled next to Tim, shivering. “I hate him,” she said.


She huddled back, but the recess was only a few feet deep, and crammed with machinery. There wasn’t any place for them to hide. The head came through the water again, but slowly this time, and the jaw came to rest on the ground. The tyrannosaur snorted, flaring its nostrils, breathing the air. But the eyes were still outside the sheet of water. Tim thought: He can’t see us. He knows we’re in here, but he can’t see through the water. The tyrannosaur sniffed. “What is he doing?” Lex said again. “Sshhhh.” With a low growl, the jaws slowly opened, and the tongue snaked out. It was thick and blue-black, with a little forked indentation at the tip. It was four feet long, and easily reached back to the far wall of the recess. The tongue slid with a rasping scrape over the filter cylinders. Tim and Lex pressed back against the pipes. The tongue moved slowly to the left, then to the right, slapping wetly against the machinery. The tip curled around the pipes and valves, sensing them. Tim saw that the tongue had muscular movements, like an elephant’s trunk. The tongue drew back along the right side of the recess. It dragged against Lex’s legs. “Eeww,” Lex said. The tongue stopped. It curled, then began to rise like a snake up the side of her body— “Don’t move,” Tim whispered. … past her face, then up along Tim’s shoulder, and finally wrapping around his head. Tim squeezed his eyes shut as the slimy muscle covered his face. It was hot and wet and it stunk like urine. Wrapped around him, the tongue began to drag him, very slowly, toward the open jaws. “Timmy …” Tim couldn’t answer; his mouth was covered by the flat black tongue. He could see, but he couldn’t talk. Lex tugged at his hand. “Come on, Timmy!” The tongue dragged him toward the snorting mouth. He felt the hot panting breath on his legs. Lex was tugging at him but she was no match for the muscular power that held him. Tim let go of her and pressed the tongue with both hands, trying to shove it over his head. He couldn’t move it. He dug his heels into the muddy ground but he was dragged forward anyway. Lex had wrapped her arms around his waist and was pulling backward, shouting to him, but he was powerless to do anything. He was beginning to see stars. A kind of peacefulness overcame him, a sense of peaceful inevitability as he was dragged along. “Timmy?” And then suddenly the tongue relaxed, and uncoiled. Tim felt it slipping off his face. His body was covered in disgusting white foamy slime, and the tongue fell limply to the ground. The jaws slapped shut, biting down on the tongue. Dark blood gushed out, mixing with the mud. The nostrils still snorted in ragged breaths. “What’s he doing?” Lex cried.


And then slowly, very slowly, the head began to slide backward, out of the recess, leaving a long scrape in the mud. And finally it disappeared entirely, and they could see only the silver sheet of falling water.


Jurassic Park CONTROL “Okay,” Arnold said, in the control room. “The rex is down.” He pushed back in his chair, and grinned as he lit a final cigarette and crumpled the pack. That did it: the final step in putting the park back in order. Now all they had to do was go out and move it. “Son of a bitch,” Muldoon said, looking at the monitor. “I got him after all.” He turned to Gennaro. “It just took him an hour to feel it.” Henry Wu frowned at the screen. “But he could drown, in that position.…” “He won’t drown,” Muldoon said. “Never seen an animal that was harder to kill.” “I think we have to go out and move him,” Arnold said. “We will,” Muldoon said. He didn’t sound enthusiastic. “That’s a valuable animal.” “I know it’s a valuable animal,” Muldoon said. Arnold turned to Gennaro. He couldn’t resist a moment of triumph. “I’d point out to you,” he said, “that the park is now completely back to normal. Whatever Malcolm’s mathematical model said was going to happen. We are completely under control again.” Gennaro pointed to the screen behind Arnold’s head and said, “What’s that?” Arnold turned. It was the system status box, in the upper corner of the screen. Ordinarily it was empty. Arnold was surprised to see that it was now blinking yellow: AUX PWR LOW. For a moment, he didn’t understand. Why should auxiliary power be low? They were running on main power, not auxiliary power. He thought perhaps it was just a routine status check on the auxiliary power, perhaps a check on the fuel tank levels or the battery charge.… “Henry,” Arnold said to Wu. “Look at this.” Wu said, “Why are you running on auxiliary power?” “I’m not,” Arnold said. “It looks like you are.” “I can’t be.” “Print the system status log,” Wu said. The log was a record of the system over the last few hours. Arnold pressed a button, and they heard the hum of a printer in the corner. Wu walked over to it. Arnold stared at the screen. The box now turned from flashing yellow to red, and the message now read: AUX PWR FAIL. Numbers began to count backward from twenty. “What the hell is going on?” Arnold said. Cautiously, Tim moved a few yards out along the muddy path, into the sunshine. He peered around the waterfall, and saw the tyrannosaur lying on its side, floating in the pool of water below. “I hope he’s dead,” Lex said. Tim could see he wasn’t: the dinosaur’s chest was still moving, and one forearm twitched in spasms. But something was wrong with him. Then Tim saw the white canister sticking in the back of the head, by the indentation of the ear. “He’s been shot with a dart,” Tim said. “Good,” Lex said. “He practically ate us.” Tim watched the labored breathing. He felt unexpectedly distressed to see the huge animal humbled like this.


He didn’t want it to die. “It’s not his fault,” he said. “Oh sure,” Lex said. “He practically ate us and it’s not his fault.” “He’s a carnivore. He was just doing what he does.” “You wouldn’t say that,” Lex said, “if you were in his stomach right now.” Then the sound of the waterfall changed. From a deafening roar, it became softer, quieter. The thundering sheet of water thinned, became a trickle … And stopped. “Timmy. The waterfall stopped,” Lex said. It was now just dripping like a tap that wasn’t completely turned off. The pool at the base of the waterfall was still. They stood near the top, in the cave-like indentation filled with machinery, looking down. “Waterfalls aren’t supposed to stop,” Lex said. Tim shook his head. “It must be the power.… Somebody turned off the power.” Behind them, all the pumps and filters were shutting down one after another, the lights blinking off, and the machinery becoming quiet. And then there was the thunk of a solenoid releasing, and the door marked MAINT 04 swung slowly open. Grant stepped out, blinking in the light, and said, “Good work, kids. You got the door open.” “We didn’t do anything,” Lex said. “The power went out,” Tim said. “Never mind that,” Grant said. “Come and see what I’ve found.” Arnold stared in shock. One after another, the monitors went black, and then the room lights went out, plunging the control room into darkness and confusion. Everyone started yelling at once. Muldoon opened the blinds and let light in, and Wu brought over the printout. “Look at this,” Wu said. Wu said, “You shut down at five-thirteen this morning, and when you started back up, you started with auxiliary power.” “Jesus,” Arnold said. Apparently, main power had not been on since shutdown. When he powered back up, only the auxiliary power came on. Arnold was thinking that was strange, when he suddenly realized that that was normal. That was what was supposed to happen. It made perfect sense: the auxiliary generator fired up first, and it was used to turn on the main generator, because it took a heavy charge to start the main power generator. That was the way the system was designed. But Arnold had never before had occasion to turn the main power off. And when the lights and screens came back on in the control room, it never occurred to him that main power hadn’t also been restored. But it hadn’t, and all during the time since then, while they were looking for the rex, and doing one thing and another, the park had been running on auxiliary power. And that wasn’t a good idea. In fact, the implications were just beginning to hit him— “What does this line mean?” Muldoon said, pointing to the list. 05:14:57 Warning: Fence Status [NB] Operative - Aux Power [AV09] “It means a system status warning was sent to the monitors in the control room,” Arnold said.


“Concerning the fences.” “Did you see that warning?” Arnold shook his head. “No. I must have been talking to you in the field. Anyway, no, I didn’t see it.” “What does it mean, ‘Warning: Fence Status’?” “Well, I didn’t know it at the time, but we were running on backup power,” Arnold said. “And backup doesn’t generate enough amperage to power the electrified fences, so they were automatically kept off.” Muldoon scowled. “The electrified fences were off?” “Yes.” “All of them? Since five this morning? For the last five hours?” “Yes.” “Including the velociraptor fences?” Arnold sighed. “Yes.” “Jesus Christ,” Muldoon said. “Five hours. Those animals could be out.” And then, from somewhere in the distance, they heard a scream. Muldoon began to talk very fast. He went around the room, handing out the portable radios. “Mr. Arnold is going to the maintenance shed to turn on main power. Dr. Wu, stay in the control room. You’re the only other one who can work the computers. Mr. Hammond, go back to the lodge. Don’t argue with me. Go now. Lock the gates, and stay behind them until you hear from me. I’ll help Arnold deal with the raptors.” He turned to Gennaro. “Like to live dangerously again?” “Not really,” Gennaro said. He was very pale. “Fine. Then go with the others to the lodge.” Muldoon turned away. “That’s it, everybody. Now move.” Hammond whined, “But what are you going to do to my animals?” “That’s not really the question, Mr. Hammond,” Muldoon said. “The question is, what are they going to do to us?” He went through the door, and hurried down the hall toward his office. Gennaro fell into step alongside him. “Change your mind?” Muldoon growled. “You’ll need help,” Gennaro said. “I might.” Muldoon went into the room marked ANIMAL SUPERVISOR, picked up the gray shoulder launcher, and unlocked a panel in the wall behind his desk. There were six cylinders and six canisters. “The thing about these damn dinos,” Muldoon said, “is that they have distributed nervous systems. They don’t die fast, even with a direct hit to the brain. And they’re built solidly; thick ribs make a shot to the heart dicey, and they’re difficult to cripple in the legs or hindquarters. Slow bleeders, slow to die.” He was opening the cylinders one after another and dropping in the canisters. He tossed a thick webbed belt to Gennaro. “Put that on.” Gennaro tightened the belt, and Muldoon passed him the shells. “About all we can hope to do is blow them apart. Unfortunately we’ve only got six shells here. There’s eight raptors in that fenced compound. Let’s go. Stay close. You have the shells.” Muldoon went out and ran along the hallway, looking down over the balcony to the path leading toward the maintenance shed. Gennaro was puffing alongside him. They got to the ground floor and went out through the glass doors, and Muldoon stopped. Arnold was standing with his back to the maintenance shed.


Three raptors approached him. Arnold had picked up a stick, and he was waving it at them, shouting. The raptors fanned out as they came closer, one staying in the center, the other two moving to each side. Coordinated. Smooth. Gennaro shivered. Pack behavior. Muldoon was already crouching, setting the launcher on his shoulder. “Load,” he said. Gennaro slipped the shell in the back of the launcher. There was an electric sizzle. Nothing happened. “Christ, you’ve got it in backward,” Muldoon said, tilting the barrel so the shell fell into Gennaro’s hands. Gennaro loaded again. The raptors were snarling at Arnold when the animal on the left simply exploded, the upper part of the torso flying into the air, blood spattering like a burst tomato on the walls of the building. The lower torso collapsed on the ground, the legs kicking in the air, the tail flopping. “That’ll wake ’em up,” Muldoon said. Arnold ran for the door of the maintenance shed. The velociraptors turned, and started toward Muldoon and Gennaro. They fanned out as they came closer. In the distance, somewhere near the lodge, he heard screams. Gennaro said, “This could be a disaster.” “Load,” Muldoon said. Henry Wu heard the explosions and looked toward the door of the control room. He circled around the consoles, then paused. He wanted to go out, but he knew he should stay in the room. If Arnold was able to get the power back on—if only for a minute—then Wu could restart the main generator. He had to stay in the room. He heard someone screaming. It sounded like Muldoon. Muldoon felt a wrenching pain in his ankle, tumbled down an embankment, and hit the ground running. Looking back, he saw Gennaro running in the other direction, into the forest. The raptors were ignoring Gennaro but pursuing Muldoon. They were now less than twenty yards away. Muldoon screamed at the top of his lungs as he ran, wondering vaguely where the hell he could go. Because he knew he had perhaps ten seconds before they got him. Ten seconds. Maybe less. Ellie had to help Malcolm turn over as Harding jabbed the needle and injected morphine. Malcolm sighed and collapsed back. It seemed he was growing weaker by the minute. Over the radio, they heard tinny screaming, and muffled explosions coming from the visitor center. Hammond came into the room and said, “How is he?” “He’s holding,” Harding said. “A bit delirious.” “I am nothing of the sort,” Malcolm said. “I am utterly clear.” They listened to the radio. “It sounds like a war out there.” “The raptors got out,” Hammond said. “Did they,” Malcolm said, breathing shallowly. “How could that possibly happen?” “It was a system screwup. Arnold didn’t realize that the auxiliary power was on, and the fences cut out.” “Did they.” “Go to hell, you supercilious bastard.” “If I remember,” Malcolm said, “I predicted fence integrity would fail.” Hammond sighed, and sat down heavily.


“Damn it all,” he said, shaking his head. “It must surely not have escaped your notice that at heart what we are attempting here is an extremely simple idea. My colleagues and I determined, several years ago, that it was possible to clone the DNA of an extinct animal, and to grow it. That seemed to us a wonderful idea, it was a kind of time travel—the only time travel in the world. Bring them back alive, so to speak. And since it was so exciting, and since it was possible to do it, we decided to go forward. We got this island, and we proceeded. It was all very simple.” “Simple?” Malcolm said. Somehow he found the energy to sit up in the bed. “Simple? You’re a bigger fool than I thought you were. And I thought you were a very substantial fool.” Ellie said, “Dr. Malcolm,” and tried to ease him back down. But Malcolm would have none of it. He pointed toward the radio, the shouts and the cries. “What is that, going on out there?” he said. “That’s your simple idea. Simple. You create new life-forms, about which you know nothing at all. Your Dr. Wu does not even know the names of the things he is creating. He cannot be bothered with such details as what the thing is called, let alone what it is. You create many of them in a very short time, you never learn anything about them, yet you expect them to do your bidding, because you made them and you therefore think you own them; you forget that they are alive, they have an intelligence of their own, and they may not do your bidding, and you forget how little you know about them, how incompetent you are to do the things that you so frivolously call simple.… Dear God …” He sank back, coughing. “You know what’s wrong with scientific power?” Malcolm said. “It’s a form of inherited wealth. And you know what assholes congenitally rich people are. It never fails.” Hammond said, “What is he talking about?” Harding made a sign, indicating delirium. Malcolm cocked his eye. “I will tell you what I am talking about,” he said. “Most kinds of power require a substantial sacrifice by whoever wants the power. There is an apprenticeship, a discipline lasting many years. Whatever kind of power you want. President of the company. Black belt in karate. Spiritual guru. Whatever it is you seek, you have to put in the time, the practice, the effort. You must give up a lot to get it. It has to be very important to you. And once you have attained it, it is your power. It can’t be given away: it resides in you. It is literally the result of your discipline.


“Now, what is interesting about this process is that, by the time someone has acquired the ability to kill with his bare hands, he has also matured to the point where he won’t use it unwisely. So that kind of power has a built-in control. The discipline of getting the power changes you so that you won’t abuse it. “But scientific power is like inherited wealth: attained without discipline. You read what others have done, and you take the next step. You can do it very young. You can make progress very fast. There is no discipline lasting many decades. There is no mastery: old scientists are ignored. There is no humility before nature. There is only a get-rich-quick, make-a-name-for-yourself-fast philosophy. Cheat, lie, falsify—it doesn’t matter. Not to you, or to your colleagues. No one will criticize you. No one has any standards. They are all trying to do the same thing: to do something big, and do it fast. “And because you can stand on the shoulders of giants, you can accomplish something quickly. You don’t even know exactly what you have done, but already you have reported it, patented it, and sold it. And the buyer will have even less discipline than you. The buyer simply purchases the power, like any commodity. The buyer doesn’t even conceive that any discipline might be necessary.” Hammond said, “Do you know what he is talking about?” Ellie nodded. “I haven’t a clue,” Hammond said. “I’ll make it simple,” Malcolm said. “A karate master does not kill people with his bare hands. He does not lose his temper and kill his wife. The person who kills is the person who has no discipline, no restraint, and who has purchased his power in the form of a Saturday night special. And that is the kind of power that science fosters, and permits. And that is why you think that to build a place like this is simple.” “It was simple,” Hammond insisted. “Then why did it go wrong?” Dizzy with tension, John Arnold threw open the door to the maintenance shed and stepped into the darkness inside. Jesus, it was black. He should have realized the lights would be out. He felt the cool air, the cavernous dimensions of the space, extending two floors below him. He had to find the catwalk. He had to be careful, or he’d break his neck. The catwalk. He groped like a blind man until he realized it was futile. Somehow he had to get light into the shed. He went back to the door and cracked it open four inches. That gave enough light. But there was no way to keep the door open. Quickly he kicked off his shoe and stuck it in the door. He went toward the catwalk, seeing it easily. He walked along the corrugated metal, hearing the difference in his feet, one loud, one soft. But at least he could see. Up ahead was the stairway leading down to the generators.


Another ten yards. Darkness. The light was gone. Arnold looked back to the door, and saw the light was blocked by the body of a velociraptor. The animal bent over, and carefully sniffed the shoe. Henry Wu paced. He ran his hands over the computer consoles. He touched the screens. He was in constant movement. He was almost frantic with tension. He reviewed the steps he would take. He must be quick. The first screen would come up, and he would press— “Wu!” The radio hissed. He grabbed for it. “Yes. I’m here.” “Got any bloody power yet?” It was Muldoon. There was something odd about his voice, something hollow. “No,” Wu said. He smiled, glad to know Muldoon was alive. “I think Arnold made it to the shed,” Muldoon said. “After that, I don’t know.” “Where are you?” Wu said. “I’m stuffed.” “What?” “Stuffed in a bloody pipe,” Muldoon said. “And I’m very popular at the moment.” Wedged in a pipe was more like it, Muldoon thought. There had been a stack of drainage pipes piled behind the visitor center, and he’d backed himself into the nearest one, scrambling like a poor bastard. Meter pipes, very tight fit for him, but they couldn’t come in after him. At least, not after he’d shot the leg off one, when the nosy bastard came too close to the pipe. The raptor had gone howling off, and the others were now respectful. His only regret was that he hadn’t waited to see the snout at the end of the tube before he’d squeezed the trigger. But he might still have his chance, because there were three or four outside, snarling and growling around him. “Yes, very popular,” he said into the radio. Wu said, “Does Arnold have a radio?” “Don’t think so,” Muldoon said. “Just sit tight. Wait it out.” He hadn’t seen what the other end of the pipe was like—he’d backed in too quickly—and he couldn’t see now. He was wedged tight. He could only hope that the far end wasn’t open. Christ, he didn’t like the thought of one of those bastards taking a bite of his hindquarters. Arnold backed away down the catwalk. The velociraptor was barely ten feet away, stalking him, coming forward into the gloom. Arnold could hear the click of its deadly claws on the metal. But he was going slowly. He knew the animal could see well, but the grille of the catwalk, the unfamiliar mechanical odors had made it cautious. That caution was his only chance, Arnold thought. If he could get to the stairs, and then move down to the floor below … Because he was pretty sure velociraptors couldn’t climb stairs. Certainly not narrow, steep stairs. Arnold glanced over his shoulder. The stairs were just a few feet away. Another few steps … He was there! Reaching back, he felt the railing, started scrambling down the almost vertical steps. His feet touched flat concrete.


The raptor snarled in frustration, twenty feet above him on the catwalk. “Too bad, buddy,” Arnold said. He turned away. He was now very close to the auxiliary generator. Just a few more steps and he would see it, even in this dim light… There was a dull thump behind him. Arnold turned. The raptor was standing there on the concrete floor, snarling. It had jumped down. He looked quickly for a weapon, but suddenly he found he was slammed onto his back on the concrete. Something heavy was pressing on his chest, it was impossible to breathe, and he realized the animal was standing on top of him, and he felt the big claws digging into the flesh of his chest, and smelled the foul breath from the head moving above him, and he opened his mouth to scream. Ellie held the radio in her hands, listening. Two more Tican workmen had arrived at the lodge; they seemed to know it was safe here. But there had been no others in the last few minutes. And it sounded quieter outside. Over the radio, Muldoon said, “How long has it been?” Wu said, “Four, five minutes.” “Arnold should have done it by now,” Muldoon said, “If he’s going to. You got any ideas?” “No,” Wu said. “We heard from Gennaro?” Gennaro pressed the button. “I’m here.” “Where the hell are you?” Muldoon said. “I’m going to the maintenance building,” Gennaro said. “Wish me luck.” Gennaro crouched in the foliage, listening. Directly ahead he saw the planted pathway, leading toward the visitor center. Gennaro knew the maintenance shed was somewhere to the east. He heard the chirping of birds in the trees. A soft mist was blowing. One of the raptors roared, but it was some distance away. It sounded off to his right. Gennaro set out, leaving the path, plunging into the foliage. Like to live dangerously? Not really. It was true, he didn’t. But Gennaro thought he had a plan, or at least a possibility that might work. If he stayed north of the main complex of buildings, he could approach the maintenance shed from the rear. All the raptors were probably around the other buildings, to the south. There was no reason for them to be in the jungle. At least, he hoped not. He moved as quietly as he could, unhappily aware he was making a lot of noise. He forced himself to slow his pace, feeling his heart pound. The foliage here was very dense; he couldn’t see more than six or seven feet ahead of him. He began to worry that he’d miss the maintenance shed entirely. But then he saw the roof to his right, above the palms. He moved toward it, went around the side. He found the door, opened it, and slipped inside. It was very dark. He stumbled over something. A man’s shoe. Gennaro frowned. He propped the door wide open and continued deeper into the building.


He saw a catwalk directly ahead of him. Suddenly he realized he didn’t know where to go. And he had left his radio behind. Damn! There might be a radio somewhere in the maintenance building. Or else he’d just look for the generator. He knew what a generator looked like. Probably it was somewhere down on the lower floor. He found a staircase leading down. It was darker below, and it was difficult to see anything. He felt his way along among the pipes, holding his hands out to keep from banging his head. He heard an animal snarl, and froze. He listened, but the sound did not come again. He moved forward cautiously. Something dripped on his shoulder, and his bare arm. It was warm, like water. He touched it in the darkness. Sticky. He smelled it. Blood. He looked up. The raptor was perched on pipes, just a few feet above his head. Blood was trickling from its claws. With an odd sense of detachment, he wondered if it was injured. And then he began to run, but the raptor jumped onto his back, pushing him to the ground. Gennaro was strong; he heaved up, knocking the raptor away, and rolled off across the concrete. When he turned back, he saw that the raptor had fallen on its side, where it lay panting. Yes, it was injured. Its leg was hurt, for some reason. Kill it. Gennaro scrambled to his feet, looking for a weapon. The raptor was still panting on the concrete. He looked frantically for something—anything—to use as a weapon. When he turned back, the raptor was gone. It snarled, the sound echoing in the darkness. Gennaro turned in a full circle, feeling with his outstretched hands. And then he felt a sharp pain in his right hand. Teeth. It was biting him. The raptor jerked his head, and Donald Gennaro was yanked off his feet, and he fell. Lying in bed, soaked in sweat, Malcolm listened as the radio crackled. “Anything?” Muldoon said. “You getting anything?” “No word,” Wu said. “Hell,” Muldoon said. There was a pause. Malcolm sighed. “I can’t wait,” he said, “to hear his new plan.” “What I would like,” Muldoon said, “is to get everybody to the lodge and regroup. But I don’t see how.” “There’s a Jeep in front of the visitor center,” Wu said. “If I drove over to you, could you get yourself into it?” “Maybe. But you’d be abandoning the control room.” “I can’t do anything here anyway.” “God knows that’s true,” Malcolm said. “A control room without electricity is not much of a control room.” “All right,” Muldoon said. “Let’s try. This isn’t looking good.” Lying in his bed, Malcolm said, “No, it’s not looking good. It’s looking like a disaster.” Wu said, “The raptors are going to follow us over there.” “We’re still better off,” Malcolm said. “Let’s go.” The radio clicked off. Malcolm closed his eyes, and breathed slowly, marshaling his strength.


Jurassic Park _ A Novel -- Crichton, Michael -- Jurassic Park 1, 2012 -- Random House Publishing Group -- 9780307763051 -- 3de76fc510cf7aa828af34881aaf1176 -- Anna’s Archive.10

“Just relax,” Ellie said. “Just take it easy.” “You know what we are really talking about here,” Malcolm said. “All this attempt to control … We are talking about Western attitudes that are five hundred years old. They began at the time when Florence, Italy, was the most important city in the world. The basic idea of science—that there was a new way to look at reality, that it was objective, that it did not depend on your beliefs or your nationality, that it was rational—that idea was fresh and exciting back then. It offered promise and hope for the future, and it swept away the old medieval system, which was hundreds of years old. The medieval world of feudal politics and religious dogma and hateful superstitions fell before science. But, in truth, this was because the medieval world didn’t really work any more. It didn’t work economically, it didn’t work intellectually, and it didn’t fit the new world that was emerging.” Malcolm coughed. “But now,” he continued, “science is the belief system that is hundreds of years old. And, like the medieval system before it, science is starting not to fit the world any more. Science has attained so much power that its practical limits begin to be apparent. Largely through science, billions of us live in one small world, densely packed and intercommunicating. But science cannot help us decide what to do with that world, or how to live. Science can make a nuclear reactor, but it cannot tell us not to build it. Science can make pesticide, but cannot tell us not to use it. And our world starts to seem polluted in fundamental ways—air, and water, and land—because of ungovernable science.” He sighed. “This much is obvious to everyone.” There was a silence. Malcolm lay with his eyes closed, his breathing labored. No one spoke, and it seemed to Ellie that Malcolm had finally fallen asleep. Then he sat up again, abruptly. “At the same time, the great intellectual justification of science has vanished. Ever since Newton and Descartes, science has explicitly offered us the vision of total control. Science has claimed the power to eventually control everything, through its understanding of natural laws. But in the twentieth century, that claim has been shattered beyond repair. First, Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle set limits on what we could know about the subatomic world. Oh well, we say. None of us lives in a subatomic world. It doesn’t make any practical difference as we go through our lives. Then Godel’s theorem set similar limits to mathematics, the formal language of science. Mathematicians used to think that their language had some special inherent trueness that derived from the laws of logic. Now we know that what we call ‘reason’ is just an arbitrary game. It’s not special, in the way we thought it was. “And now chaos theory proves that unpredictability is built into our daily lives. It is as mundane as the rainstorm we cannot predict.


Jurassic Park _ A Novel -- Crichton, Michael -- Jurassic Park 1, 2012 -- Random House Publishing Group -- 9780307763051 -- 3de76fc510cf7aa828af34881aaf1176 -- Anna’s Archive.11

And so the grand vision of science, hundreds of years old—the dream of total control—has died, in our century. And with it much of the justification, the rationale for science to do what it does. And for us to listen to it. Science has always said that it may not know everything now but it will know, eventually. But now we see that isn’t true. It is an idle boast. As foolish, and as misguided, as the child who jumps off a building because he believes he can fly.” “This is very extreme,” Hammond said, shaking his head. “We are witnessing the end of the scientific era. Science, like other outmoded systems, is destroying itself. As it gains in power, it proves itself incapable of handling the power. Because things are going very fast now. Fifty years ago, everyone was gaga over the atomic bomb. That was power. No one could imagine anything more. Yet, a bare decade after the bomb, we began to have genetic power. And genetic power is far more potent than atomic power. And it will be in everyone’s hands. It will be in kits for backyard gardeners. Experiments for schoolchildren. Cheap labs for terrorists and dictators. And that will force everyone to ask the same question—What should I do with my power?—which is the very question science says it cannot answer.” “So what will happen?” Ellie said. Malcolm shrugged. “A change.” “What kind of change?” “All major changes are like death,” he said. “You can’t see to the other side until you are there.” And he closed his eyes. “The poor man,” Hammond said, shaking his head. Malcolm sighed. “Do you have any idea,” he said, “how unlikely it is that you, or any of us, will get off this island alive?”


Jurassic Park RETURN Its electric motor whirring, the cart raced forward down the dark underground tunnel. Grant drove, his foot to the floor. The tunnel was featureless except for the occasional air vent above, shaded to protect against rainfall, and thus permitting little light to enter. But he noticed that there were crusty white animal droppings in many places. Obviously lots of animals had been in here. Sitting beside him in the cart, Lex shone the flashlight to the back, where the velociraptor lay. “Why is it having trouble breathing?” “Because I shot it with tranquilizer,” he said. “Is it going to die?” she said. “I hope not.” “Why are we taking it?” Lex said. “To prove to the people back at the center that the dinosaurs are really breeding,” Grant said. “How do you know they’re breeding?” “Because this one is young,” Grant said. “And because it’s a boy dinosaur.” “Is it?” Lex said, peering along the flashlight beam. “Yes. Now shine that light forward, will you?” He held out his wrist, turning the watch to her. “What does it say?” “It says … ten-fifteen.” “Okay.” Tim said, “That means we have only forty-five minutes to contact the boat.” “We should be close,” Grant said. “I figure we should be almost to the visitor center right now.” He wasn’t sure, but he sensed the tunnel was gently tilting upward, leading them back to the surface, and— “Wow!” Tim said. They burst out into daylight with shocking speed. There was a light mist blowing, partially obscuring the building that loomed directly above them. Grant saw at once that it was the visitor center. They had arrived right in front of the garage! “Yay!” Lex shouted. “We did it! Yay!” She bounced up and down in the seat as Grant parked the cart in the garage. Along one wall were stacked animal cages. They put the velociraptor in one, with a dish of water. Then they started climbing the stairs to the ground-floor entrance of the visitor center. “I’m going to get a hamburger! And french fries! Chocolate milk shake! No more dinosaurs! Yay!” They came to the lobby, and they opened the door. And they fell silent. 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-vision 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 hand. “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 breath 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 three—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 east 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 will 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 door 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 forth 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.


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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 modem 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.


Jurassic Park _ A Novel -- Crichton, Michael -- Jurassic Park 1, 2012 -- Random House Publishing Group -- 9780307763051 -- 3de76fc510cf7aa828af34881aaf1176 -- Anna’s Archive.13

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.


Jurassic Park _ A Novel -- Crichton, Michael -- Jurassic Park 1, 2012 -- Random House Publishing Group -- 9780307763051 -- 3de76fc510cf7aa828af34881aaf1176 -- Anna’s Archive.14

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.


Jurassic Park _ A Novel -- Crichton, Michael -- Jurassic Park 1, 2012 -- Random House Publishing Group -- 9780307763051 -- 3de76fc510cf7aa828af34881aaf1176 -- Anna’s Archive.15

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 shouting, “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.