The light was fading, the sky bleeding into a soft wash of golden hues, a gentle, sprawling masterpiece painted across the horizon. The setting sun cast long, trembling reflections upon the undulating surface of the lake, stretching further and further into the distance.
Clang.
A hammer and a collection of construction tools were tossed somewhat roughly onto a makeshift wooden table, their metal surfaces catching the last glints of the sun.
A simple campfire, ringed by river stones, crackled back to life under the sparks of a flint. The orange glow illuminated the timber foundations of a cabin and a nearby trailer. Here, there were no paved roads and few animal tracks; only the presence of man breathed a sparse vitality into this nameless wilderness.
"Protests organized by dinosaur rights groups are on the rise, severely impacting the daily lives of local residents..."
"U.S. officials have issued a warning: armed forces will be deployed as of today to disperse the crowds. Tear gas and other non-lethal measures will be used if necessary."
The radio droned on. Inside the trailer, a tangle of wires and the cluttered artifacts of human occupation made the space feel cramped. However, judging by the neatly stacked trash bags, the occupant hadn't completely abandoned all sense of order.
Click... Thump.
The trailer door opened and swung shut. Owen Grady stepped inside, draped in a relatively clean towel, wiping droplets of water from his neck and forehead, the remnants of a recent shower.
A moment later, he tossed the towel into a small washing machine and headed straight for the freezer. He pulled out a beer, grabbed an opener from the table, and collapsed lazily into his sofa.
"Phew..."
He popped the cap and took a long, deep swig, letting out a heavy sigh of relief.
His eyes wandered to the side, noticing his laptop screen was still glowing with a construction tutorial. He must have forgotten to turn it off when he headed out this morning; luckily, the charger had kept it alive.
"The interim council remains deadlocked on the fate of the dinosaurs. Dr. Ian Malcolm continues to lead the opposition against the rescue mission, stating the council will provide a definitive answer within a week..."
The radio continued its broadcast. Owen forced himself up from the sofa, reaching over to shut down the laptop. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, but his hand slipped. Instead of closing the window, he clicked a toggle on the sidebar, triggering his last bookmarked video.
"Hey, hey! Back up!"
His own voice filled the room. On the screen, a much younger Owen was holding his ground against a baby Raptor trying to pounce on him.
It was Charlie.
"Aook!"
In the background, Delta and Echo were locked in another tussle. The two sisters had been fighting for dominance since they were hatchlings.
"Oh, man. Are you guys on something today?"
Owen's voice on the recording sounded exasperated, but his face held nothing but affection.
"Aok!"
Blue raised her head and let out a sharp cry. Whether she was tired of her sisters' racket or simply didn't want Owen to be stressed, she barked a command, calling the other three Raptors to her side.
"Thanks, Blue."
The video ended. Inside the trailer, the real Owen froze, staring at the dark screen as the radio next to him played on.
"...Major breakthroughs have been made in the study of dinosaur cognition. Observations of behavioral patterns on Isla Nublar, combined with footage provided by Camp Cretaceous survivor Darius Bowman, confirm that these creatures possess a profound sense of family and social structure. While it varies by individual, there is no longer any doubt: they are not the 'monsters' we once believed them to be."
…
"Aok?"
As if sensing something, Blue raised her head within the ruins of the Old Park, her soft hoot drawing the attention of her three sisters. Together, they looked up toward the crumbling ceiling of the Visitors' Center.
"Aok?" x2
What is it? — Delta & Echo
"Aok!"
The stone is failing. — Blue
Unlike her more impulsive sisters, Blue was observant, attuned to the shifting world around her. She had noticed the subtle groan of the ceiling long before the others.
"Aok!"
Time to go. We can't stay here. — Blue
"Aok?"
Where do we go? — Charlie
"Aok."
The Great Lake. — Blue
Though they had clashed with Carlo in the past, the Great Lake was currently their best prospect. At the very least, the dangers there were out in the open. As for the northern side of the island, which had yet to be touched by the volcanic eruption...
The shadows there were crowded with things far more ancient and numerous.
…
"Rooster... rooster..."
The sound of coughing jolted Carlo from his light doze. He immediately looked toward his mother, but found her resting peacefully.
Not her?
He felt a brief surge of relief, then turned his head to locate the source of the noise.
An elderly Sinoceratops stood nearby, legs trembling. Its body was a map of countless burn scars, and the horn on its snout had been snapped off. Carlo remembered this one; it was one of the few herbivores brave enough to charge directly through the falling embers and flaming timber to lead others to safety.
The old dino's gait was unsteady. It seemed to realize its time had come. It turned away from the herd, limping in the direction opposite the Great Lake.
"Aunnng—"
A slightly younger Sinoceratops trotted over, letting out a low call as if trying to convince the elder to stay.
The old dino merely glanced back. It noticed the younger one's massive head shield, specifically the piece that had been torn away long ago and had never grown back.
"Aunnng—"
Look at my shield. It's a good look, isn't it? Heh.
The elder emitted a boastful rumble, then turned and continued his trek. He did not pause again. He did not look back.
A few Albertosaurus noticed the movement. They quietly fell in line behind the elderly Sinoceratops, following him out beyond the sanctuary of the lake. They, too, did not return.
The Baryonyx had become uncharacteristically subdued. They stayed huddled in a far corner of the lake, catching fish and bringing them onto the shore to eat, making a visible effort not to startle the other dinosaurs. Every so often, they would cast wary glances toward Carlo's position, though it seemed they weren't actually looking at him.
Who are they watching then? Hard to guess.
Click.
As Carlo watched the world unfold around him, something fell from a nearby tree, landing with a sharp snap. He stood and walked over to investigate.
He found a picture frame lying in the dirt. Inside was a drawing, his drawing, though not exactly.
It was a "translation" of the abstract art he had clawed into the dirt, interpreted and rendered by Yasmina. She had captured the essence of his work almost perfectly.
Carlo gently pressed his snout to the small frame, picking it up with his lips. He placed it carefully on a flat rock, the one where Yasmina and Darius used to sit most often.
If only they were still here... No. Perhaps it's better they aren't.
Carlo tilted his head, tasting the residual scents in the air. With a heavy sigh, he lay back down.
If I had to take Mom and Dad and swim away from this island... how much strength would that take?
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