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‟So what’s your guys’ deal?”
Dustin’s first impression of Kenji is that he’s an idiot, a theory strengthened by the fact that he’s spent the past five minutes curiously eyeing Dustin and Steve instead of appreciating the Costa Rican scenery. That he’s finally decided to open his mouth isn’t that surprising, but the question still manages to catch Dustin kind of off guard.
‟What?” he says, glancing over at Steve, who’s looking deeply unimpressed with just about everything, never mind the fact that they’re literally zooming down a dirt road on the flatbed of a Jeep on an island full of dinosaurs.
‟I mean,” Kenji says, ‟how old are you?”
Dustin blinks. ‟Sixteen.”
‟So why do you have a babysitter?” Kenji asks, pointing at Steve.
Dustin sputters. ‟He’s not my babysitter! He’s my boyfriend!”
‟Your mom asked me to come along to keep you out of trouble,” Steve helpfully reminds him.
‟Yes, thank you, Steve,” Dustin grits out.
‟He’s your boyfriend?” Sammy pipes up.
She looks surprised, glancing over at Steve like she’s waiting for him to confirm. It’s not the first time that’s happened, and it probably won’t be the last. Steve, the bastard, just shrugs, because he probably still thinks it’s funny.
‟Yes,” Dustin insists, perhaps a bit too forcefully. ‟Last time I checked we were definitely dating.”
‟Oh,” Sammy says, squirming in her seat as she flushes a light pink, and that could either mean trouble or the complete opposite – Dustin’s trying not to stereotype her too hard based solely on the southern accent. ‟That’s— That’s cool.”
She looks away, quite obviously feigning interest in the giant tree they just drove by, and Dustin sighs.
Seems like they’re off to a great start.
//
Dustin pokes Steve in the side.
“I think they’re sneaking out,” he says.
Steve grunts. “Go back to sleep,” he says.
“But—”
“I swear to god,” Steve mumbles. “If you don’t get your ass back in bed, you’re not touching me for the rest of the trip.”
Dustin bites his lip, weighing the cost against his curiosity, but it’s not even close; his libido wins out, as always.
“This is pretty unfair,” he complains to Steve as he climbs back up to the top bunk and crawls over Steve’s legs so that he can slip in under the covers. “What’s your kryptonite?”
Steve yawns and lifts his arm so that Dustin can duck beneath it. “Same as yours,” he huffs, “except you can never keep your hands to yourself, so there’s no point trying to threaten me.”
Dustin scowls and turns over so that his back’s to Steve’s chest, which allows him a clear view of the forest below them.
The other campers are holed up in a room down the hall, identical to the one Steve had immediately claimed for the two of them upon arrival, but no one seems to have minded Dustin and Steve going off to bunk on their own. There’s plenty of rooms left to spare if the others decide to do the same – enough for 500 campers – but they seem to find some kind of safety in numbers or something, even up high among the treetops. The rooms all look the same anyway, so there’s nothing to be excited about; basic bunk beds, lockers for storage, all completely utilitarian down to the total lack of windows, since the temperature on Isla Nublar is apparently temperate enough all year round to not necessitate such silly things.
There’s a cool breeze tonight, though not quite to the point that it’s chilly, and Dustin relaxes against Steve’s chest as Steve tucks his knees up against the back of Dustin’s.
“I think it’s Darius and Kenji,” Dustin informs him, and Steve makes a sleepy noise of acknowledgment. “That’s it? I thought you’d be more upset about them going off on their own.”
“My babysitting days are over,” Steve mumbles against the back of Dustin’s neck.
Dustin frowns. “Isn’t that why you came in the first place? To babysit me?”
“Chaperone,” Steve corrects. “And if you didn’t want me to come you shouldn’t have won two all-inclusive passes.”
“I didn’t not want you to come,” Dustin says, reaching down to idly play with Steve’s fingers as he hears the distant sound of a door opening and closing, followed by excited whispers coming from the valley floor.
“Sleep,” Steve tells him.
//
Dustin does feel a bit better about certain missed opportunities the next morning when he hears that Darius and Kenji were caught sneaking into the raptor paddock and are about to face disciplinary action for it.
“Told you,” Steve comments as they pile into the back of the Jeep, off to visit the InGen genetics lab while Darius and Kenji are left to literally shovel shit for the rest of the day.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dustin says. “You’re always right.”
Steve grins and leans over to give him a quick kiss, laughing as the movement of the Jeep rocks them against each other, and Dustin tries to ignore the way Sammy’s staring holes into the back of Steve’s head.
//
The lab turns out to be everything Dustin had hoped it’d be.
It’s sleek and modern and clean – pristine in a way that makes it obvious that Dr. Wu runs a very tight ship with a very competent crew – and even Steve has to admit that it’s pretty impressive.
The scientists are too busy with their work to entertain them, but luckily Dr. Wu seems to take a liking to Brooklynn – or her twenty-seven million online followers, at least. He happily poses for her camera as he gives them a quick tour, and even though the lab isn’t the largest, there sure is plenty to look at; a wall display of amber with mosquitoes in situ, LED screens showing sequences of the tree frog DNA they splice into the dinosaur DNA, and the incubators with their robotic arms that slowly and methodically rotate the unhatched eggs.
Dustin lingers in front of the latter as one of the eggs begins to show signs of hatching – far too soon, judging by Dr. Wu’s reaction – and it turns out to be an Ankylosaurus, tiny enough for Ben to hold in the palm of his hand.
“She’s gonna grow to weigh between five and eight tons,” Dustin tells Steve, whose eyes widen at the information.
“One of its head bumps is bigger than the other!” Brooklynn exclaims, thrusting her phone over Ben’s shoulder to film the baby, and Dr. Wu mutters something about asymmetry, and neither sounds nor looks very pleased about the fact.
“All the dinosaurs go through an accelerated growth cycle,” he explains. “They're supposed to incubate for thirteen weeks with no noticeable defects, but apparently this one slipped through.”
He heads over to one of the computer terminals, probably to check what caused this fluke of nature, and Dustin crowds in with the rest to watch Ben set the Ankylosaurus – who he declares is named Bumpy – down on the incubator so that it can attempt to take its first steps.
Dustin doesn’t even notice that Brooklynn has managed to slip away until Dr. Wu comes marching her back into the lab and loudly declares that it’s time for them to leave.
“Clearly, this group has no respect for my lab,” he booms.
“I’m sensing a pattern here,” Steve tells Dustin as Dave and Roxie, the co-head camp counselors, immediately start herding them all out of the room.
It pains Dustin to admit it, but he might be onto something.
//
The next day they’re ushered into the Jeep again and taken beyond the forest to the grazing lands. Roxie makes a short stop at one of the designated vantage points so that they appreciate the full scale of the open grassland stretching out before them – enough to feed a group of herbivores five times the size of the herd Dustin can see in the distance – and then she pulls away and takes them down onto the lowlands.
As they get closer, Dustin can recognize the species making up the herd – Brachiosaurus, Parasaurolophus, Stegosaurus, Sinoceratops, and Ankylosaurus, like Bumpy only fully grown – all mingling together like one. Roxie pulls to a stop right next to a group of park personnel on all-terrain vehicles sitting watching the herd slowly go by, and that’s when Dustin spots the gyrospheres.
“Oh my god,” Steve groans as the kids all hurry to clamber off the back of the Jeep, joyously shouting their excitement.
“We get to drive gyrospheres?!” Darius exclaims, pressing his hands against the surface of the nearest vehicle. “Cool!”
“Saddle up, dudes and dudettes!” Dave grandly announces. “We're going on a cattle drive, but with dinosaurs! It's a dino drive!”
“Park personnel are moving a group of dinosaurs to fresh grazing lands across the island, and we get to ride along behind the herd!” Roxie adds, and after a few brief questions – Ben inquiring about the likelihood of getting eaten and Kenji asking about the waterproofing of the gyrospheres, on account of his hair – the kids all scatter to claim their vehicles.
‟Question,” Steve says as Dave moseys up to check on them. ‟Has the person who came up with these activities ever met a group of teenagers before?”
‟Um,” Dave says. ‟I would… assume so?” He pats the top of the gyrosphere Dustin and Steve have chosen. ‟Well, you’re good to go!”
Steve turns to Dustin as Dave walks away. ‟Yeah, that’s a no,” he says. “Watch this end badly.”
“Relax,” Dustin tells him. “We’re on an open plain with a dozen adults around. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“You were saying?” Steve asks him ten minutes later when Dave announces that they need to return to camp on account of the oncoming storm.
Dustin huffs, but even from a distance he can tell that the dinosaurs are getting agitated by the lightning so the decision is an understandable one. The weather is messing with the radios too; Dave and Roxie drive off to inform the other personnel of the change in plans, leaving the campers to await further instructions on their return, and Dustin sighs.
“Well this is a bust,” he mutters.
Steve snorts. “You got ten minutes of herding dinosaurs,” he says. “That’s ten minutes longer than most people will ever have.”
“I guess,” Dustin says.
He looks up as another flash of lightning brightens the sky, and it apparently scares one of the Sinoceratops badly enough to risk it leaving the safety of the herd and bolt for the forest. A moment later, one of the gyrospheres pulls away and starts to head after it, quickly followed by the two other spheres as well.
“What the fuck?” Steve says. “Does everyone have a death wish or something?”
Dustin hums as he starts a mental countdown, making it to three before Steve swears again and reaches for the joystick.
“I thought you were done with babysitting,” Dustin comments as Steve spins their gyrosphere around to trail after the others.
“Me too,” Steve bites out.
//
‟So before you say anything,” Dustin announces as they step back into their bunkroom, ‟I’m pretty sure I know what you’re thinking.”
Steve turns to glower at him, but the effect is slightly ruined by the fact that he’s covered head to toe in mud.
‟You’re thinking wow, Dustin and his friends weren’t so bad after all.”
Steve sputters. “You want a pat on the back because you never drove anything into a sinkhole?!”
Dustin shrugs. “Might be nice,” he says.
‟All I’m thinking right now,” Steve mutters, “is that I need a shower.”
He turns to head to the bathroom connected to the bunkroom, and Dustin grins as he follows and watches the muscles in Steve’s back flex as he starts to strip his shirt off.
‟Don’t let me stop you,” Dustin brightly says, which earns him another over-shoulder glare and the muddied shirt thrown straight at his face.
Dustin easily catches it and tosses it into one of the three shower stalls, because they should probably rinse all the mud off before they think of handing anything over to get washed.
Steve kicks his jeans and boxers off too before stepping into the closest shower and grumpily pulling the curtain closed behind him, and Dustin rolls his eyes as he stoops to pluck the clothes off the floor and deposits them on top of the shirt in the empty stall.
“It’s a nice bathroom,” he muses, hands on his hips as he takes a good look around. “Nice sinks. Plenty of counter space. Good-sized showers...”
Steve pokes his head out from behind the shower curtain, his hair plastered to his forehead.
“Oh my god,” he says, “just get your ass in here like I know you want to.”
Dustin grins and starts working on his belt.
//
“Kayaks are canceled,” Steve tells him early the next morning as he climbs back into bed.
“Wha’?” Dustin murmurs, because it’s barely sunrise and what the fuck is Steve doing up already?
“Dave and Roxie left a note. They’re gonna go see their boss and we’re supposed to stay inside and bond or some shit.”
Dustin groans as Steve flops down on his chest. “I was expecting more dinosaurs at dinosaur camp,” he mutters, and Steve laughs and tilts his head down to kiss him.
“Don’t complain,” he breathes into Dustin’s mouth, “you get to sleep in,” and Dustin nips at Steve’s bottom lip in response.
Steve hums, his fingers skimming their way down Dustin’s hip. “Or maybe you wanna...?”
He trails off and Dustin sucks in a surprised breath, because horny morning Steve is one of his favorite Steves.
“The door doesn’t lock,” he says, eyes flicking to the closed door, and Steve grins against Dustin’s lips.
“Guess you gotta be real quiet, then,” he tells Dustin as he pulls away to place a kiss at the base of Dustin’s throat and then starts to slowly work his way down Dustin’s chest.
Dustin reaches out to curl his fingers into Steve’s hair.
“’Kay,” he breathes.
//
The kids are arguing again. Dustin sighs, roused out of his doze as more voices join in on the shouting.
“Were we this loud?” he groans, remembering the Party arguments they used to have, and Steve snorts against his bare shoulder.
“Louder,” he grumbles, and Dustin almost feels sorry for him. ‟Time to get up, I guess.”
He pats Dustin’s chest and pushes himself up on his elbows, and then he freezes and looks out across the forest as, somewhere beyond the trees, something large and powerful lets out a deep and guttural bellow.
Even from a distance, Dustin can feel the reverberation of the sound in his chest; it makes some primal part of him cower in fear, and he knows with absolute certainty that the spike of adrenaline that runs through him is meant to aid him in escaping whatever it was that just made that sound.
‟What the fuck,” Steve breathes as the animal – because it must be just that – lets out another rumbling cry. ‟Is that a T-Rex?”
‟No,” Dustin says, pushing the covers down. ‟No, that’s— It doesn’t sound like one.”
‟It sounds fucking angry,” Steve says as he climbs down the ladder and starts to pull his clothes on, and Dustin quickly follows suit.
‟It’s probably nothing, right?” he says, and Steve snorts.
‟With our luck? We’re all going to die.”
They head down to the common room area only to find the place empty, and the display above the elevator doors shows the car sitting on the ground floor, which opens up into the forest.
‟Figures they’d go exploring,” Steve mutters as he runs a hand through his hair.
‟Should we go look for them?” Dustin doesn’t have a clue where they’d even start, or in which direction they’d head – away from the source of the sound, or towards it? – but he’d at least like to be able to say that he tried.
Steve opens his mouth to answer, but he’s interrupted as, on the table a few feet away, the walkie-talkie meant for emergency use crackles to life in a barrage of static.
‟—of containment. Repeat, asset out of containment! Stay indoors. ACU is responding.”
‟I’ll take that as a no,” Dustin says.
//
The viewing deck ironically doesn’t afford them much of a view at all; whatever’s going on is happening beyond the trees surrounding the camp, and while Dustin thinks he might be able to hear the sound of voices coming from somewhere to the west, in the direction of the observation tower they’d climbed their first day on the island, he can’t be completely sure.
‟Where is everyone?”
Dustin lowers his binoculars and looks over at Steve, who’s leaning over the railing and scanning the forest floor. Now that Dustin thinks about it, Steve makes a good point; there are usually at least a handful of people milling about at the base of camp, but right now the area is deserted.
‟I don’t know,” Dustin replies. ‟Maybe—”
From the west, in the direction he’d just spent the past five minutes looking, there’s another guttural roar followed by what is most definitely human screaming.
‟Shit,” Steve says as they both swing around to look, and there’s another sound now too – something almost like metal striking metal, before the shrieking groan of something else pierces the air.
‟Fuck, it’s the tower,” Dustin realizes as a plume of smoke starts to rise above the treetops. ‟It’s collapsed.”
‟Shit,” Steve says again. ‟Hey, do you hear—”
Dustin does. It’s the sound of an engine, and a moment later a small Jeep comes speeding down the dirt track leading up to camp, kicking up dust as it skids to a stop in front of the elevator.
The man inside opens the door to get out, and Dustin’s just about to call out to him when he sees it; what appears to be a shadow against the forest floor, large and slow as it stalks forward, and as the man in the car sets his foot on the ground the shadow moves, bursting out into the open and slamming into the back of the Jeep.
It’s a dinosaur, but it’s not like any Dustin’s ever seen before; against the underbrush, it had appeared almost invisible, but it flashes into a gray color as soon as it hits the sunlit dirt in front of camp, like it had been camouflaged creeping up on its prey.
It’s bipedal, like most carnivores, but unlike the T-Rex or the Carnotaurus, its forelimbs are well-developed with large, sickle-shaped claws, and it appears louder than either as well as it throws its head back and roars, baring a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth exposed like those of a crocodile.
It lifts one of its legs and places it on the Jeep, which has landed upside down a good twenty or so feet from its original position, and then it slowly bears down on it with all its weight, like it’s enjoying hearing the screams of the still-alive man inside slowly being crushed to death.
‟Holy shit,” Steve chokes out. ‟What is that thing?”
Dustin doesn’t think he’s ever heard Steve sound like that before – voice faint with terror, like he’s having trouble believing what he’s seeing. Dustin suspect that he’d sound the same – if he could even get words out, that is.
Below them the screams have died out, and Dustin doesn’t want to think about why that is. The dinosaur bends down on all four limbs to peer into the wreck of the Jeep, and it makes a deep, low sound on the next exhale, almost like a purr or like an engine knocking, as if it’s pleased with itself.
There’s a sudden burst of static behind them as the walkie crackles back to life, and they both jump and veer around to watch the screen light up.
‟—CU is not responding. Repeat, ACU not responding. Asset still out of containment.”
‟No shit,” Steve breathes.
Dustin swallows and turns to look back down only to find the dinosaur gone.
‟Fuck,” he manages to spit out. ‟Where’d it go?”
He lifts the binocular to his eyes and starts to frantically scan the forest floor, but there’s nothing – no strange shadows or anything else that might indicate that the dinosaur is still there, lying in wait for more unsuspecting park personnel to stray into its path.
‟You think it left?” Steve says.
Dustin bites his lip. ‟Maybe. We should get on the walkie. Warn everyone. What channel was it?”
‟Six,” Steve tells him, and Dustin heads into the common area to grab the walkie, fiddling with the dials as he hurries back out onto the observation deck.
‟I’ll—” he starts to say, but Steve reaches out to grab his wrist in an iron grip.
‟Do you hear that?” he hisses, and Dustin clenches his jaw shut, listening.
He can hear the birds in the treetops singing warnings to each other, and the rustle of the leaves in the wind. He can hear his own pulse rushing in his ears, and Steve’s ragged breathing, and, in the background, an almost hollow sound, like someone knocking on wood, followed by a guttural clicking purr.
Dustin’s breath hitches and he throws himself against the railing, leaning out to look down at the stem of the giant redwood that houses the main camp cabin.
The dinosaur looks back up at him, no more than ten feet away, four sets of claws digging into the bark of the tree like an ice climber hanging by an ice axe. It roars when it sees him, loud enough to make his ears hurt, and then Steve’s grabbing him by the back of his shirt and yanking him away as the dinosaur launches itself upwards and the claws of its forearms latch onto the edge of the deck.
The walkie goes flying, tumbling over the railing as the dinosaur frantically tries to pull itself onto the deck, but it’s too big; it must be at least fifty feet from its snout to the tip of its tail, claws as long as Dustin’s entire arm if not longer, and the observation deck was never constructed to hold anywhere near this kind of weight.
The wood lurches beneath their feet, and Steve hustles Dustin into the common area, dragging him across the room and towards the wooden suspension bridge that connects the different treetop cabins to each other. It’s a good idea; they’re sitting ducks up here, but the elevator will only deliver them straight into the maw of the beast.
Steve pulls open the door and pushes Dustin through ahead of him, just in time for the first loud crack of splitting wood to cut through the air, as sharp as the snap of overhead thunder. It seems to shake the entire structure, the suspension bridge swaying dangerously beneath Dustin’s feet as the dinosaur roars and the deck starts to detach from where it’s anchored in the redwood, and then, with a deafening groan, the structure gives way completely as half of the cabins pull away from the trunk of the tree and plummet towards the ground, taking the dinosaur with it.
‟Grab on to something!” Steve shouts as the ropes holding the bridge up begin to snap one by one, severing from their anchors on the nearest tree, and Dustin drops and wraps his arms around one of the planks just as the bridge swings loose and goes vertical.
He scrambles for purchase with his feet, tucking his toes into the gap between planks and looks down at Steve, who’s adopted the same strategy a few feet below him.
The dinosaur bellows from somewhere below, hidden by the dust the collapse has kicked up, and Dustin tucks his face into his elbow and coughs as the wind carries the dirt their way, squeezing his eyes shut, and then he feels a tug on his jeans – Steve, trying to get his attention.
‟Look!” he hisses, and Dustin squints down at the ground forty feet below where they’re hanging, to where the dinosaur is clawing its way out from beneath the rubble of the fallen structure.
It sways on its feet as it stumbles away from the wreckage, shaking its head like it’s trying to catch its bearings, and Dustin holds his breath as he watches the dinosaur slowly make its way back into the forest, like it’s forgotten all about why it climbed the redwood in the first place.
‟You think it’s actually gone?” he whispers to Steve, who blinks up at him.
‟Let’s wait a bit and see,” Steve suggests, and Dustin nods even though his arms are already burning with the effort of clinging to the bridge.
//
Dustin resists the urge to drop to his knees and kiss the dirt as, ten minutes later, they finally make the climb down onto solid ground again.
‟If we survive this,” Steve says, ‟I know a pretty kick-ass lawyer.”
He scans the forest as if still half-expecting the dinosaur to be lurking in the shadow of the trees, even though the birds have gone back to their usual repertoire, and Dustin makes his way towards the rubble of the cabin and picks up the walkie-talkie, which has miraculously avoided being crushed by the fallen wreckage.
His relief is short-lived, however, because the walkie’s dead, and no amount of knocking or turning it on and off seems to help.
‟Looks like we’re on our own,” he tells Steve, who shrugs.
‟Wouldn’t be the first time.”
‟Yeah,” Dustin agrees. He squints up at the sky. ‟The main park’s south. We could probably make it before dark if we’re lucky.”
Far above their heads, what’s left of the cabins groan, and Steve looks up and sidesteps just in time to avoid getting hit by a piece of falling debris.
‟I’m game,” he says, and Dustin nods to himself.
‟We could take the road, but I think it might be faster going as the bird flies.”
‟Road or no road,” Steve says. ‟I don’t think the killer dinosaur is going to care.”
Dustin supposes he has a point.
//
They cut through the forest, and it’s slow going on account of the brush. Dustin wipes the sweat off his forehead and plucks at the front of his shirt, fanning himself, but it doesn’t seem to do anything for the heat. He finds himself wishing for a breeze – doubly so when they stumble out of the forest and into another clearing.
‟Well, shit,” Steve says, and Dustin peers around him to take in the tall fence rising probably twenty feet above them.
It would have posed an issue, he supposes, if it weren’t for the fact that something’s ripped a segment of the fence in two, thick bars snapped and curled back on themselves like they’re made of paper straws and not steel.
‟In or out,” Steve says. ‟What do you think?”
‟What?”
‟Was something trying to get in, or get out?”
Dustin considers this. ‟We’re out,” he says, ‟so either something wanted out, or something helped something else get out. I hope I’m wrong, but this could be the Carnotaurus paddock that Kenji told us about.”
‟Great,” Steve sighs. ‟So now we got Toro on the loose too.”
‟Yeah, and who knows what else.” Dustin frowns as he peers up at the midday sun. ‟If this is Toro’s enclosure, at least we know we’re on the right track. His paddock is due north of the main park, so the Visitors’ Center should be straight ahead.”
‟Yeah?” Steve says, placing his hand on the center of Dustin’s back. ‟Let’s—”
He stiffens, breaking off mid-sentence, and then Dustin can hear it too; the rustling in the nearby bushes, followed by a kind of grunting sound, and before either of them has time to react, a small dinosaur, no larger than an average sized dog, bursts through the foliage.
Dustin sucks in a sharp breath of surprise.
‟Bumpy?”
//
Fifteen or so minutes later they come across an old dirt track that doesn’t appear to have been used in a while; grass and other vegetation are creeping in to reclaim it and the trees on either side have been left undisturbed for long enough that their branches stretch out across the track at face-height, unbroken by passing trucks.
The track seems to run south, so there’s no point in not following it. It makes for easier walking, and while Dustin doubts that they’ll be able to follow it all the way back to the main park, he hopes that any nearby dinosaurs will at least still remember when there used to be people with guns and cattle prods running up and down the road in their Jeeps, and that they’ll rely on those same memories to stay away; dinosaurs, as he’s come to realize, are more fun in a controlled setting where they’re not actively trying to eat you.
Steve takes point, which is fine with Dustin. It probably won’t help much either way if a pack of raptors or who knows what else decides to hunt them down, which is a very clear possibility seeing as how Steve’s started to mutter to himself. Dustin gets it; he’d love to release some of his tension too, because he’s tired and dirty and thirsty and would kill for a shower and a Redbull right about now.
“Y’know, I knew this would happen,” Steve grumbles, probably alerting everything within fifty feet of their presence as he pushes a low-hanging leaf twice the size of his head to the side so that he can pass.
“You knew this would happen,” Dustin repeats. He ducks so that he won’t get smacked in the face by the leaf as Steve lets it go and it springs back at him.
“Yeah,” Steve says. “And your mom did too. That’s why she made me go with you.”
“You both knew that the dinosaurs would break free and start eating people and trash the camp and that we’d be left effectively stranded and probably presumed dead by everyone?”
Steve shrugs. “More or less,” he says, smacking an annoyingly huge flying beetle away from his face in mid-air.
“Huh,” Dustin says. “Did you know Bumpy would find us, too?”
Steve looks over at the baby Ankylosaurus, who’s following them at a steady pace with frequent breaks to munch on nearby bushes. He purses his lips.
“Yes,” he says.
“Fucking lies,” Dustin tells him.
//
Bumpy fucks off a little while later. One moment he’s trailing after them like a docile dog and the next he’s gone, disappearing into the bushes like he’s caught some kind of scent.
‟Guess it’s just the two of us,” Steve says, but he seems to have gotten over his bad mood because he’s smiling softly as he glances over at Dustin. He looks tired, and there’s dirt streaked across his right cheekbone, and his hair’s a mess, and Dustin feels thankful just looking at him.
‟For what it’s worth,” he tells Steve, ‟I’m glad it’s you and me. Here, at the end of all things.”
Steve shoots him a suspicious look. ‟Are you quoting something at me?” he says, reaching out to catch Dustin’s hand, and Dustin grins.
‟Maybe,” he says as he laces their fingers together.
‟Whatever.” Steve gives his hand a squeeze. ‟I’m glad it’s you and me too, just so you know.”
Dustin hums in reply. The sun’s close to setting now, and it feels like they’ve been walking for most of the day. If Dustin remembers the map right, they should be coming up on the perimeter of the main park at any moment now.
‟Do you hear that?” Steve says, and Dustin braces himself for more rustling bushes and engine purrs, but it’s neither.
‟Sirens,” he says, meeting Steve’s surprised gaze, and then Steve takes off running, dragging Dustin along by the hand, and a minute or two later they clear the forest and find themselves staring at the entrance to the water park and, towering just behind it, the large structure that houses the visitors’ center.
‟Attention,” the speaker system drones overhead as the sound of the sirens fades. ‟All park-goers must report to the South Ferry Dock for immediate evacuation. Last ferry departs in three hours.”
‟Holy shit,” Steve breathes. ‟We made it.”
‟There was, like, no doubt,” Dustin lies, and then he’s the one pulling Steve along, towards the visitors’ center.
The streets are a mess; devoid of people, but covered in trash, and merchandise, and tables and chairs from the outdoor dining areas, and it’s like everyone dropped whatever they were carrying when the evacuation order was issued and just took off running.
The lights are still on, which is a good sign; it means that the monorail used to ferry tourists to the southern dock will still be operating – at least Dustin hopes as much as he barges through the doors of the visitors’ center, Steve in tow, and heads for the station.
‟Shit, this is spooky,” Steve tells him as they head up the double-wide staircase and Dustin agrees; it’s a large space made for many more people than just the two of them, and their footsteps echo loudly against the marble as they quickly make their way past the gift shops and kiosks.
‟There!” Dustin cries, pointing to the automated train pulling into the station, all sleek glass and metal.
‟Yes!” Steve laughs as he raises their joined hands in victory.
‟Welcome to Main Street,” the recording cheerfully announces over the train’s speakers as the train slows to a stop and the doors smoothly part open, ‟your destination for fine dining and shopping at Jurassic World! Next stop, the Jurassic World Lagoon, followed by the South Ferry Dock!”
‟Sounds good to me,” Steve says and drags Dustin in through the middle door.
They both collapse onto a pair of seats as the overhead voice happily warns them about the doors closing, and then the monorail is pulling out of the station, the whir of its electric motor near-silent and almost startlingly so in comparison to the sounds of the forest which they’ve spent the past day listening to.
‟We made it,” Steve says again, and Dustin sighs and tilts his body to rest his head on Steve’s shoulder.
‟I think I’ve grown too old for any more camps,” he says.
Steve snorts. ‟I should hope so.”
Dustin hums and closes his eyes and lets himself relax for the first time since this morning, smiling as he feels Steve lean over to place his cheek on top of Dustin’s head.
‟This is nice,” he murmurs, adrenaline dumping hard and fast, on the verge of making him fall asleep.
‟Yeah,” Steve says as the train starts to slow in preparation for their next stop. ‟Dustin?”
‟Hmm?”
‟What’s that?”
Dustin pries his eyes open and looks out the window, towards the approaching station and the dinosaur who is investigating a heap of abandoned suitcases at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the railway platform.
‟That,” Dustin says, ‟would probably be Toro.”
Steve groans. ‟So, uh—”
‟Let’s just be very quiet and not move?” Dustin suggests as the train pulls into the stop.
‟Welcome to the Jurassic World Lagoon!” the speakers loudly announce as the doors part. ‟Next stop, Ferry Landing!”
‟Ah, fuck,” Steve mutters under his breath as Toro raises his head to peer at the train. ‟C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…”
The Carnotaurus sniffs at the air and lets out a guttural growl, and then he’s abandoning the suitcases in favor of curiously making his way toward the platform staircase.
‟Shit,” Steve says, and Dustin’s inclined to agree.
He grips the edge of his seat tightly as he watches Toro peer up at them from the base of the stairs, well aware that they’re basically sitting in what amounts to a very easily accessible lunch box, should Toro decide that he’s in the mood for a snack.
‟Doors closing!” the speakers cheerfully inform them, and then they’re off, zipping away before the Carnotaurus has the opportunity to get any closer.
‟I hate this place so much,” Steve announces, and Dustin can’t even argue with that.
‟Yeah,” he says as the south dock comes into view, the ferry landing brimming with people. ‟Maybe we shouldn’t tell my mom about the part where we had to escape the man-eating dinosaur. Y’know, if we ever want me to be able to leave the house again.”
‟Oh, yeah,” Steve says. ‟That sounds reasonable.”