If you had a week of vacation, what would you want to do?
Travel, sleep, read novels, play games... there isn't one definitive answer, right?
But if someone asked what you didn't want to do, the answer would be unanimous: overtime.
"Looks like my beautiful vacation has officially ended."
Darius stared at the message Brooklynn had sent him, his brow furrowed as he muttered to himself.
[Brooklynn: Darius, I think you need to see this. Someone is poaching dinosaurs.]
[Image] x3
"Concavenator? Does Jurassic World even have those?"
Darius tapped on the images. He recognized the dinosaur carcasses almost instantly, but...
"Brooklynn... are you sure you aren't overthinking this? Concavenator is a carnivore, and for humans, that size is actually quite suitable for... uh... food? They might have just been killed in self-defense."
Darius mumbled to himself, composing his thoughts before hitting send.
Ping.
[Brooklynn: You mean to tell me some primitive hermits living in the deep woods killed these dinosaurs for 'self-defense'?]
[Brooklynn: You're missing the point. Every dinosaur killed so far has one thing in common: missing body parts. Maybe a claw, a skull, or teeth. But these three carcasses? They're remarkably intact. What's more, they were killed hundreds of meters apart within a seven-minute window.]
[Brooklynn: Is that a coincidence?]
Brooklynn replied almost instantly. As a social media star, she possessed a supernatural intuition for things that could spark a viral controversy. Darius, however, leaned toward optimism. Unless there was definitive proof, he preferred to believe it was just a series of flukes.
"Alright... alright... I'll keep an eye out, Great Detective. By the way, are you out in the wilderness investigating alone? Stay safe."
[Brooklynn: Thanks... speaking of wilderness, are you still staying in that shack in the woods?]
"It's called a country villa."
[Brooklynn: Pfft. You be careful too. The dinosaur population has spiked lately, and there are many... species that never existed in Jurassic World. I suspect someone is still secretly resurrecting them. I found something, talk later.]
After sending the string of messages, Brooklynn turned off her screen, shifted gears, and stepped on the gas.
The Jeep, which had been parked on the shoulder, launched forward, kicking up a cloud of dust.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small transparent bag containing... a business card?
[Security Specialty Shop...]
Part of the text was obscured by mud, but even so, Brooklynn could tell from the available information that this wasn't a legitimate business. It was likely from the black market... but did black markets usually advertise?
…
The midday sun cast golden, dappled patterns through the gaps in the leaves, creating an enchanting scene. A warm afternoon breeze drifted through the woods; the swaying leaves seemed to whisper secrets to one another.
The sunlight hit the plates on Stego bro's back, revealing old scars that were otherwise invisible.
Strangely enough, the creatures in the Mojave Sanctuary didn't seem to share the "Great Lake Peace Treaty" mindset of Isla Nublar; they stayed far away from Carlo's family. Only Stego bro dared to remain by their side.
Carlo's family was equally familiar with the Stegosaurus, but they were accustomed to the "no-fighting at the waterhole" rule, so they weren't likely to start a massacre in Artificial Lake Zone One anyway.
Why did Stego bro refuse the invitation of his own kind?
Carlo, currently lying down for a nap, cracked one eye open to observe Stego bro, who was also napping nearby.
It was rare to see the other dinosaur nap. Was it because he was exhausted from the long transport? Back at the Great Lake, Carlo had never seen him sleep during the day.
Feeling a bit too restless to sleep, Carlo slowly stood up. He checked in with Kafka, who was currently serving as the "temporary security guard" as a punishment, and prepared to scout the Mojave Sanctuary.
"Roar..."
Kafka responded listlessly from the shade of the trees, watching Carlo's figure recede into the distance.
The day shift... is absolute torture!
…
Crack.
"Eeng?"
On a desolate hill, several cracks suddenly appeared in a mound of firm sand. With the chirping of a hatchling and the shattering of eggshells, the mound collapsed.
It was a Dreadnoughtus hatchling.
Though it wasn't the ideal season for birth, the artificial terraforming of the Mojave Sanctuary had caused the mother to misjudge the timing, leading to offspring being born in the wrong season.
However, this wouldn't halt the progression of the ecosystem, nor would it lessen the challenges the little sauropods were about to face.
The midday desert was scorching, but for these newborns, the heat was just right.
The challenge they faced now was much grimmer, a test of both physiology and psychology.
The scent near the nest was exceptionally foul. Several dried, shriveled mounds of dung stood tall like miniature mountains to the hatchlings.
These were left by their mother, and the streaks of pale green mixed within the waste were to be their first meal.
Though it was revolting, the hatchlings that had broken cover early rushed forward immediately, using their egg teeth to strip the plant matter from the dung.
"Eeng!"
One little one, still half-trapped in its shell, cried out urgently. Food was scarce; if its siblings finished it all, there would be nothing left.
Roll... roll...
A hardened piece of dung broke off from the "poop mountain" and rolled down, eventually bumping into a white foot.
This was also a Dreadnoughtus, but he looked different from his siblings. His body was pale, and he looked much weaker than the others, likely due to the direct sunlight.
He couldn't push past his brothers and sisters, so he had to wait for them to finish before checking for leftovers.
In most cases, a weakling like him wouldn't survive a day. Fortunately, heaven smiled upon him, gifting him a perfect, green-streaked lump of dung.
Without hesitation, he leaned down, separating and chewing the leaves as fast as he could.
The stronger individuals had already begun leading the way down the hill. They would follow the scent trails left by their mother to rejoin the herd. Anyone who fell behind, was abandoned, or left behind was marked for death.
Stay with the group. That was the instinct etched into their genes.
The little white Dreadnoughtus felt a pang of regret at not finishing his first meal, but he wisely followed the leaders. For a weakling like him, the primary objective was simply to stay alive.
…
Not far away, by a nearly dried-up creek, an Afrovenator resting in a rock cave caught a strange scent in the air and opened its eyes.
———————
Want to read ahead of schedule? Head over here ——— pa-tre-on.c-om/AlexandrusTL [remove the hyphen for normal access]