"Admit it, you missed."
"Yeah," Muldoon said. He sighed. "I missed. Battery was dead in the damned laser sights. My fault. I should have checked it, after it was out all last night. Let's go back and get more canisters."
The Jeep headed north, toward the hotel. Muldoon picked up the radio. "Control."
"Yes," Arnold said.
"We're heading back to base."
The river was now very narrow, and flowing swiftly. The raft was going faster all the time. It was starting to feel like an amusement park ride.
"Whee!" Lex yelled, holding on to the gunwale. "Faster, faster!"
Grant squinted, looking forward. The river was still narrow and dark, but farther ahead he could see the trees ended, and there was bright sunlight beyond, and a distant roaring sound. The river seemed to end abruptly in a peculiar flat line. . . .
The raft was going still faster, rushing forward.
Grant grabbed for his paddles.
"What is it?"
"It's a waterfall," Grant said.
The raft swept out of the overhanging darkness into brilliant morning sunlight, and raced forward on the swift current toward the lip of the waterfall. The roar was loud in their ears. Grant paddled as strongly as he could, but he only succeeded in spinning the boat in circles. It continued inexorably toward the lip.
Lex leaned toward him. "I can't swim!" Grant saw that she did not have her life vest clasped, but there was nothing he could do about it; with frightening speed, they came to the edge, and the roar of the waterfall seemed to fill the world. Grant jammed his oar deep into the water, it catch and hold, right at the lip; the rubber raft shuddered in the current, but they did not go over. Grant strained against the oar and, looking over the edge, saw the sheer drop of fifty feet down to the surging pool below.
And standing in the surging pool, waiting for them, was the tyrannosaur.
Lex was screaming in panic, and then the boat spun, and the rear end dropped away, spilling them out into air and roaring water, and they fell sickeningly. Grant flailed his arms in the air, and the world went suddenly silent and slow.
It seemed to him he fell for long minutes; he had time to observe Lex, clutching her orange jacket, falling alongside him; he had time to observe Tim, looking down at the bottom; he had time to observe the frozen white sheet of the waterfall; he had time to observe the bubbling pool beneath him as he fell slowly, silently toward it.
Then, with a stinging slap, Grant plunged into cold water, surrounded by white boiling bubbles. He tumbled and spun and glimpsed the leg of the tyrannosaur as he was swirled past it, swept down through the pool and out into the stream beyond. Grant swam for the shore, clutched warm rocks, slipped off, caught a branch, and finally pulled himself out of the main current. Gasping, he dragged himself on his belly onto the rocks, and looked at the river just in time to see the brown rubber raft tumble past him. Then he saw Tim, battling the current, and he reached out and pulled him, coughing and shivering, onto the shore beside him.
Grant turned back to the waterfall, and saw the tyrannosaur plunge its head straight down into the water of the pool at his feet. The great head shook, splashing water to either side. It had something between its teeth.
And then the tyrannosaur lifted its head back up. Dangling from the jaws was Lex's orange life vest.
A moment later, Lex bobbed to the surface beside the dinosaur's long tail. She lay face down in the water, her little body swept downstream by the current. Grant plunged into the water after her, was again immersed in the churning torrent. A moment later, he pulled her up onto the rocks, a heavy, lifeless weight. Her face was gray. Water poured from her mouth.
Grant bent over her to give her mouth-to-mouth but she coughed. Then she vomited yellow-green liquid and coughed again. Her eyelids fluttered. "Hi," she said. She smiled weakly. "We did it."
Tim started to cry. She coughed again. "Will you stop it? What're you crying for?"
"Because."
"We were worried about you," Grant said. Small flecks of white were drifting down the river. The tyrannosaur was tearing up the life vest. Still turned away from them, facing the waterfall. But at any minute the animal might turn and see them. . . . Come on, kids," he said.
"Where are we going?" Lex said, coughing.
"Come on." He was looking for a hiding place. Downstream he saw only an open grassy plain, affording no protection. Upstream was the dinosaur. Then Grant saw a dirt path by the river. It seemed to lead up toward the waterfall.
And in the dirt he saw the clear imprint of a man's shoe. Leading up the path.
The tyrannosaur finally turned around, growling and looking out toward the grassy plain. It seemed to have figured out that they had gotten away.
It was looking for them downstream. Grant and the kids ducked among the big ferns that lined the riverbanks. Cautiously, he led them upstream. "Where are we going?" Lex said. "We're going back."
"I know."
They were closer to the waterfall now, the roar much louder. The rocks became slippery, the path muddy. There was a constant hanging mist. It was like moving through a cloud. The path seemed to lead right into the rushing water, but as they came closer, they saw that it actually went behind the waterfall.
The tyrannosaur was still looking downstream, its back turned to them. They hurried along the path to the waterfall, and had almost moved behind the sheet of falling water when Grant saw the tyrannosaur turn. Then they were completely behind the waterfall, and Grant was unable to see out through the silver sheet.
Grant looked around in surprise. There was a little recess here, hardly larger than a closet, and filled with machinery: humming pumps and big filters and pipes. Everything was wet, and cold.
"Did he see us?" Lex said. She had to shout over the noise of the falling water. "Where are we? What is this place? Did he see us?"
"Just a minute," Grant said. He was looking at the equipment. This was clearly park machinery. And there must be electricity to run it, so perhaps there was also a telephone for communication. He poked among the filters and pipes.
"What are you doing?" Lex shouted.
"Looking for a telephone." It was now nearly 10:00 a.m. They had just a little more than an hour to contact the ship before it reached the mainland.
In the back of the recess he found a metal door marked MAINT 04, but it was firmly locked. Next to it was a slot for a security card. Alongside the door he saw a row of metal boxes. He opened the boxes one after another, but they contained only switches and timers. No telephone. And nothing to open the door.
He almost missed the box to the left of the door. On opening it, he found a nine-button keypad, covered with spots of green mold. But it looked as if it was a way to open the door, and he had the feeling that on the other side of that door was a phone. Scratched in the metal of the box was the number 1023. He punched it in.
With a hiss, the door came open. Gaping darkness beyond, concrete steps leading downward. On the back wall he saw stenciled MAINT VEHICLE 04/22 CHARGER and an arrow pointing down the stairs. Could it really mean there was a car? "Come on, kids."
"Forget it," Lex said. "I'm not going in there."
"Come on, Lex," Tim said.
"Forget it," Lex said. "There's no lights or anything. I'm not going."
"Never mind," Grant said. There wasn't time to argue. "Stay here, and I'll be right back."
"Where're you going?" Lex said, suddenly alarmed.
Grant stepped through the door. It gave an electronic beep, and snapped shut behind him, on a spring.
Grant was plunged into total darkness. After a moment of surprise, he turned to the door and felt its damp surface. There was no knob, no latch. He turned to the walls on either side of the door, feeling for a switch, a control box, anything at all. . . .
There was nothing.
He was fighting panic when his fingers closed over a cold metal cylinder. He ran his hands over a swelling edge, a flat surface . . . a flashlight! He clicked it on, and the beam was surprisingly bright. He looked back at the door, but saw that it would not open. He would have to wait for the kids to unlock it. Meantime . . .
He started for the steps. They were damp and slippery with mold, and he went down carefully. Partway down the stairs, he heard a sniffing and the sound of claws scratching on concrete. He took out his dart pistol, and proceeded cautiously.
The steps bent around the corner, and as he shone his light, an odd reflection glinted back, and then, a moment later, he saw it: a car! It was an electric car, like a golf cart, and it faced a long tunnel that seemed to stretch away for miles. A bright red light glowed by the steering wheel of the car, so perhaps it was charged.
Grant heard the sniffing again, and he wheeled and saw a pale shape rise up toward him, leaping through the air, its laws open, and without thinking Grant fired. The animal landed on him, knocking him down, and he rolled away in fright, his flashlight swinging wildly. But the animal didn't get up, and he felt foolish when he saw it.
It was a velociraptor, but very young, less than a year old. It was about two feet tall, the size of a medium dog, and it lay on the ground, breathing shallowly, the dart sticking from beneath its jaw. There was probably too much anesthetic for its body weight, and Grant pulled the dart out quickly. The velociraptor looked at him with slightly glazed eyes.
Grant had a clear feeling of intelligence from this creature, a kind of softness which contrasted strangely with the menace he had felt from the adults in the pen. He stroked the head of the velociraptor, hoping to calm it. He looked down at the body, which was shivering slightly as the tranquilizer took hold. And then he saw it was a male.
A young juvenile, and a male. There was no question what he was seeing. This velociraptor had been bred in the wild.
Excited by this development, he hurried back up the stairs to the door. With his flashlight, he scanned the flat, featureless surface of the door, and the interior walls. As he ran his hands over the door, it slowly dawned on him that he was locked inside, and unable to open it, unless the kids had the presence of mind to open it for him. He could hear them, faintly, on the other side of the door.
"Dr. Grant!" Lex shouted, pounding the door. "Dr. Grant!"
"Take it easy," Tim said. "He'll be back."
"But where did he go?"
"Listen, Dr. Grant knows what he's doing," Tim said. "He'll be back in a minute."
"He should come back now, " Lex said. She bunched her fists on her hips, pushed her elbows wide. She stamped her foot angrily.
And then, with a roar, the tyrannosaur's head burst through the waterfall toward them.
Tim stared in horror as the big mouth gaped wide. Lex shrieked and threw herself on the ground. The head swung back and forth, and pulled out again. But Tim could see the shadow of the animal's head on the sheet of falling water.
He pulled Lex deeper into the recess, just as the jaws burst through again, roaring, the thick tongue flicking in and out rapidly. Water sprayed in all directions from the head. Then it pulled out again.
Lex huddled next to Tim, shivering. "I hate him," she said. She huddled back, but the recess was only a few feet deep, and crammed with machinery. There wasn't any place for them to hide.
The head came through the water again, but slowly this time, and the jaw came to rest on the ground. The tyrannosaur snorted, flaring its nostrils, breathing the air. But the eyes were still outside the sheet of water.
Tim thought: He can't see us. He knows we're in here, but he can't see through the water.
The tyrannosaur sniffed.
"What is he doing?" Lex said again.
"Sshhbh."
With a low growl, the jaws slowly opened, and the tongue snaked out. It was thick and blue-black, with a little forked indentation at the tip. It was four feet long, and easily reached back to the far wall of the recess. The tongue slid with a rasping scrape over the filter cylinders. Tim and Lex pressed back against the pipes.
The tongue moved slowly to the left, then to the right, slapping wetly against the machinery. The tip curled around the pipes and valves, sensing them. Tim saw that the tongue had muscular movements, like an elephant's trunk, The tongue drew back along the right side of the recess. It dragged against Lex's legs.
"Eeww," Lex said.
The tongue stopped. It curled, then began to rise like a snake up the side of her body-
"Don't move, " Tim whispered.
. . . past her face, then up along Tim's shoulder, and finally wrapping around his head. Tim squeezed his eyes shut as the slimy muscle covered his face. It was hot and wet and it stunk like urine.
Wrapped around him, the tongue began to drag him, very slowly, toward the open laws.
"Timmy . . ."
Tim couldn't answer; his mouth was covered by the flat black tongue. He could see, but he couldn't talk. Lex tugged at his hand.
"Come on, Timmy!"
The tongue dragged him toward the snorting mouth. He felt the hot panting breath on his legs. Lex was tugging at him but she was no match for the muscular power that held him. Tim let go of her and pressed the tongue with both hands, trying to shove it over his head. He couldn't move it. He dug his heels into the muddy ground but he was dragged forward anyway.
Lex had wrapped her arms around his waist and was pulling backward, shouting to him, but he was powerless to do anything. He was beginning to see stars. A kind of peacefulness overcame him, a sense of peaceful inevitability as he was dragged along.
Timmy?"
And then suddenly the tongue relaxed, and uncoiled. Tim felt it slipping off his face. His body was covered in disgusting white foamy slime, and the tongue fell limply to the ground. The jaws slapped shut, biting down on the tongue. Dark blood gushed out, mixing with the mud. The nostrils still snorted in ragged breaths.
"What's he doing?" Lex cried.
And then slowly, very slowly, the head began to slide backward, out of the recess, leaving a long scrape in the mud. And finally it disappeared entirely, and they could see only the silver sheet of falling water.
Control
"Okay," Arnold said, in the control room. "The rex is down." He pushed back in his chair, and grinned as he lit a final cigarette and crumpled the pack. That did it: the final step in putting the park back in order. Now all they had to do was go out and move it.
"Son of a bitch," Muldoon said, looking at the monitor. "I got him after all." He turned to Gennaro. "It just took him an hour to feel it."
Henry Wu frowned at the screen. "But he could drown, in that position. . . ."
"He won't drown," Muldoon said. "Never seen an animal that was harder to kill."
"I think we have to go out and move him," Arnold said,
"We will," Muldoon said. He didn't sound enthusiastic.
"That's a valuable animal."
"I know it's a valuable animal," Muldoon said.
Arnold turned to Gennaro. He couldn't resist a moment of triumph. "I'd point out to you," he said, "that the park is now completely back to normal. Whatever Malcolm's mathematical model said was going to happen. We are completely under control again."
Gennaro pointed to the screen behind Arnold's head and said, "What's that?"
Arnold turned. It was the system status box, in the upper corner of the screen. Ordinarily it was empty. Arnold was surprised to see that it was now blinking yellow: AUX PWR LOW. For a moment, he didn't understand. Why should auxiliary power be low? They were running on main power, not auxiliary power. He thought perhaps it was just a routine status check on the auxiliary power, perhaps a check on the fuel tank levels or the battery charge. . . .