Chapter Text
3:00 AM
Alan Grant’s feet hit the peat, too eager to notice the slobs of mud that clung to his khaki pants, shirt, and shoes. Frantic, he kept his senses sharp against the chirping sounds of Procompsognathus- which, he internally protested- was a Triassic creature in search of smaller animals and not of human flesh- and the harsh vocalisations of Velociraptors, behemoths which appeared like warped Deinonychus. Hammond had created monsters, not dinosaurs, and he was keen to escape into the small clearing, concreted with rubble decorating its edges.
Gasping for breath, he stared directly at the sky, searching for Hammond’s helicopter. It should arrive at any moment. He grasped a small stick and whipped his pocket knife, searching for a habitable shelter to sit in and while the tense minutes before his departure.
Tim and Lex and Ellie, he quickly filed. Tim was with Malcolm, without a question- he was too insistent on being with Alan. He had to go. Lex was with Ellie. Both were hiking around Isla Nublar.
Alone.
Alan washed his mud-caked face with acceptably clear water from a nearby creek. He neither cared nor wanted anything other than the promise of safety. He’d always thought of himself as an adventurer, who saw stability as nothing more than a human whimsy. He understood it through the terror that pricked his arms and the heat that seared his face, blood pounding against his head. He reached inside underneath the corrugated steel-
A pale arm emerged, soft yet calloused at the tips. Slightly horrified but wordless, Alan hauled the arm to reveal a mauled corpse, with legs smooth and long, pink shirt in tattered shreds, emblazoned with blood-
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He felt the fan against his face, heart punching his ribs, breathless. His forehead was soaked in sweat. Rolling over, he grabbed a towel and started wiping the perceived detritus off, before falling against the sheets, relishing the softness of the pillow against his face. There was Ellie next to him, breathing soundly. The moon was unusually bright against the Californian desert, and the trailer primarily empty. He walked outside, kicking the dust as he went, turning the flashlight on, searching for snakes and the dig sites- he’d hate to destroy the fragile bones he’d just excavated. Footsteps sounded behind him. Ellie yawned, cup of coffee in hand.
“It’s early,” she stated, half smiling. Alan’s cheeks burned, feeling rather flustered. Did he wake her?
“How’d you manage to make that-” he motioned towards the drink “-so quickly?”
Ellie shrugged. Alan nodded, realising that it was best to stay silent. This current project currently required a measly twenty thousand dollars to fund, and it was just himself, Ellie, four other palaeontologists (one specialised in dinosaur ethology and the other two specialised in palaeobotany and palaeoclimatology) and and a young protege by the name of Billy from the university he taught at. Billy proved himself capable in palaeontology, showing genetic expertise and a drive to graduate early. Needless to say, Alan and Ellie appreciated Billy’s help, who excavated a large fraction of the fossils whilst Ellie worked on a children’s book, due to publish in a year.
“Children, again?” Alan asked, exasperated, turning towards Ellie one balmy afternoon. They strolled around the park. Ellie’s hands folded defensively.
“You wrote books too, honey,” she said.
Alan frowned. “It’s a children’s book,” he said, after some time. “I try to understand why children are such a necessity, but they’re noisy, smelly-”
“Cheap again,” Ellie retorted playfully. “You’ll be ready, one day,” she added, hopefully.
Alan’s thoughts were interrupted by his phone. Ellie promptly picked it up and answered, nodding at small intervals. The trailer was hot, sunlight streaming through every crevice. Billy sipped on a cold beer in the corner, browsing through literature and sketching contour maps of the site.
“I’m really sorry, Mr Kirby, we’re currently working on coprolite deposits, it’s a large step in learning about-” Ellie’s eyes widened. Alan walked towards her. “Yes, I’m sure there could be some discussion…” She gave the phone to Alan, who was greeted by a slightly distressed voice trying to compose himself.
“Dr Grant,” it started. “I have a proposition-”
‘How much is it?” he asked. Alan licked his lips. He already knew what was offered- funding. Hammond’s last offer promised funding for three years. Billy looked up, anticipatory.
“Right,” the man replied, taken aback. Pause. “A million dollars,” he said, finally. It was difficult to distinguish under the crackle.
“A million?” Alan repeated. Billy leapt from his chair.
“Yes,” Kirby said. “You heard it. A million. That’s enough to fund all of your projects, Dr Grant, Dr Sattler.”
Ellie nodded. “Discuss it,” she mouthed.
“And what is it you want me to do?” Alan asked.
“Why don’t you have dinner with us? Details will be faxed,” Kirby said, smile audible. The phone hung up.
“A million,” Billy continued, “A million!”
“It’s worth a shot,” Ellie added.
“If it has anything to do with Isla Nublar or genetically manufactured dinosaurs, I’d like to keep out of it,” Alan said firmly. Billy frowned. He’d heard of the stories published by the mathematician Ian Malcolm about the island. He felt surging jealousy towards the two senior palaeontologists- he would kill to see a velociraptor egg, intact in all its features. If only Alan would recount his encounters with the herbivores- his mind spun at the thought of touching a real-life sauropod. If the island’s promised animals were still there, Billy thought, he’d love to be a part of it.
“I-I read Malcolm’s book,” Billy stuttered. He knew that, despite Ellie and Alan’s attempts to hide it, they enjoyed the island and all its facets, until the lights went off.
“Filled with uninteresting fluff,” Alan told him. “Chaos theory and nonlinear equations.”
“The other one,” Billy corrected. Alan nodded. “Yeah- filled with uninteresting fluff. Look, Billy, you’re a paleontologist. His work has little merit under the palaeontological mainstream communi-”
“Honey, he was right,” Ellie interjected. “He predicted the Park’s failure.”
Alan paused. Ian did predict the park’s failure, but so did everyone else save Gennaro and Hammond. He was just to ecstatic at seeing a brachiosaurus that he’d forgotten the details. Billy eagerly reached for another beer. He popped open the bottle.
“That doesn’t necessarily mean Malcolm’s work is terrible,” Alan said slowly. “It was very accurate.” Ellie nodded. She crossed her legs.
“-But Billy, don’t take this as Alan’s approval. I try to forget the raptor noises, often.”
Billy nodded. He cared deeply about Alan’s opinion of his starting career, particularly because of his links to raptor studies. Talking to Ellie in a dismissive manner was a highway for his disapproval. He cared deeply about Dr Sattler too, to a lesser extent. Her distant work meant little for Billy Brennan’s work at the current, but it would be immeasurable in value.
There was Kirby. Ellie read out the details in a measured manner. Paul Kirby was an immensely rich man, from what she could draw, and was married to an equally luxurious woman, Amanda. She read the footnote aloud. “Reserved two people,” she said. “Exclamation mark, exclamation mark, exclamation mark.”
“I don’t want to go,” Alan said promptly. “Billy, go with Ellie. The excavations-”
Billy stood up and went outside, presumably to his own trailer which he shared with the palaeobotanist.
Ellie sauntered towards him. “I think Kirby would’ve liked it if you came along.”
“Billy can say whatever needs to be said. You could work out the details,” he mumbled. Ellie smiled.
“Well,” she said, pouring him a bottle of champagne and opening a can of spaghetti, “Here’s your dinner.” She changed her hiking boots for something more appropriate, and dusted the sand out of her hair. She stepped outside, where Billy prepared a couple of emergency notes and coats for the fluctuating heat. “See you later, Alan,” Ellie called out from the truck, Billy next to her. She honked the horn. Alan smiled weakly, before turning to brush sediment from the fragile fossils.
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“Dr Sattler,” Paul Kirby lunged, shaking her hand vigorously. Amanda beamed next to him, introducing herself and the table. “-And this is-? I’ve seen Dr Grant’s lectures and…”
Visibly annoyed with the niceties, Billy shook Paul’s hand. “Billy Brennan,” he paused. “Alan Grant’s protege.”
“Lovely,” Amanda commented. She beckoned the party to sit down. Billy hid his face behind the menus, quietly listening to promises of large sums of money from the Kirbys.