The sound of the aircraft's engines grew louder, a mechanical roar that felt entirely alien in a world dominated by biological calls.Isaiah moved through the dense jungle with a heavy, deliberate stride. He was no longer the clumsy, terrified boy who had stumbled out of the InGen transport crate. He was a sub-adult titan. His massive feet, each armed with three lethal talons, crushed fallen logs and flattened thick patches of ferns without slowing him down. His horizontal spine kept his profile low, allowing his forty-foot frame to weave through the massive trunks of the prehistoric trees with a stealth that defied his massive size.Up ahead, the dense jungle canopy began to thin out, giving way to a large, man-made clearing.Isaiah came to a halt at the edge of the foliage, lowering his massive head to peer through a screen of broad leaves.There it was: the abandoned InGen airstrip.The runway was cracked and overrun with weeds, nature slowly reclaiming the concrete scar left by human ambition. Rusting fuel barrels and decaying metal structures sat at the perimeter, silent monuments to a fallen empire.And sitting right in the middle of the runway was the twin-engine plane. Its propellers were still spinning slowly, kicking up clouds of dust and dead leaves.Isaiah watched as the cabin door opened. A group of humans began to disembark, looking tiny and incredibly fragile from his elevated perspective.His human heart gave a sudden, painful squeeze in his massive chest. He recognized them all.There was Dr. Alan Grant, looking weary and out of place in his signature fedora. There was Billy Brennan, the enthusiastic young paleontologist. There were Paul and Amanda Kirby, looking terrified and desperate as they called out for their missing son, Eric. And then there were the mercenaries: Udesky, Nash, and the heavily armed Cooper.A wave of intense, bittersweet nostalgia washed over Isaiah. For fifteen years of his past life, these were characters in a movie he loved. Now, they were real, living, breathing people. They were his own species.Isaiah didn't want to hurt them. He didn't feel the hunger that usually drove his actions; he had eaten a small Ouranosaurus just yesterday. He simply wanted to be close to them. He wanted to hear a human voice that wasn't a recording or a memory.He took a slow, tentative step out of the jungle, his massive foot making a soft thud in the dirt.He didn't roar. He didn't growl. He kept his jaws shut and his massive tail low, trying to project the least threatening posture a forty-foot apex predator could possibly manage. He let out a low, soft rumble in his chest—a sound he had learned was a sign of curiosity rather than aggression among theropods.At the edge of the airstrip, Cooper was unloading heavy gear from the plane's cargo hold. He was a large man, hardened by combat, carrying a massive, high-caliber sniper rifle slung over his shoulder.Cooper turned around to grab another crate, and his eyes locked directly onto Isaiah.The mercenary froze. His military training overrode everything else. He didn't see a curious animal, and he certainly didn't see a fifteen-year-old boy trapped in a monster's body. He saw a massive, scaly nightmare with a jagged scar across its sail stepping out of the treeline. He saw a threat to his clients and his own life."Contact! Big one at twelve o'clock!" Cooper roared, his voice cutting through the humid air."Cooper, wait!" Dr. Grant shouted from near the plane, his eyes widening in horror as he recognized the massive, sail-backed silhouette. "Don't shoot it! It's not attacking!"But Cooper wasn't a scientist. He was paid to eliminate threats.With blinding speed, the mercenary unslung his high-caliber rifle, brought it to his shoulder, and centered the crosshairs directly on Isaiah's massive chest.BANG.The gunshot was deafening, a sharp, violent crack that echoed across the valley and sent flocks of prehistoric birds screaming into the sky.The heavy, armor-piercing round slammed directly into Isaiah's right shoulder.A white-hot burst of agony exploded in Isaiah's nervous system. The impact was massive, staggering the multi-ton predator and forcing him to take a heavy, uncoordinated step back. Warm, thick blood instantly began to well from the wound, staining his dark grey scales.Isaiah let out a high-pitched scream of pure, unadulterated pain and shock.In that single, violent instant, the fragile bridge between the human boy and the monster was shattered. The human named Isaiah, who just wanted to be seen and helped, was violently shoved into the dark recesses of his mind. The predatory instincts of Asset 87, forged in the brutal survival of the jungle and the genetic laboratories of InGen, surged to the forefront with a blinding, red fury.They had attacked him. They had hurt him. And in the wild world of Isla Sorna, there was only one response to an attack.Annihilation.Isaiah opened his massive jaws, exposing rows of serrated, banana-sized teeth. The blue bioluminescent stripes on his flanks flared to a brilliant, angry glow, and the jagged scar on his sail flushed a deep, warning crimson.He threw his massive head back and let out an earth-shaking, deafening roar of pure, unadulterated fury that shook the very windows of the abandoned plane.Cooper's eyes widened in pure terror as he realized his high-caliber round hadn't killed the beast—it had only made it furious."Get back in the plane! GO! GO! GO!" Nash screamed from the cockpit, throttling the engines back up to full power.Isaiah didn't wait. He lowered his massive head, his amber eyes locked onto the running mercenary who had shot him. He pushed off the ground with his powerful, avian legs, his massive claws tearing up chunks of runway as he launched himself into a terrifying, full-speed sprint directly toward the group.The chase was on. And this time, Isaiah was the monster.
