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  “Huh,” Manly said, noticing the laptop as Alan took it out of its case and examined it. “I don’t mean to pry or anything, but there’s a woman at the park who’s really into dinosaurs and your kind of stuff. She said you hate computers.”

  “She’s right,” Alan said, shifting uncomfortably. He always felt weird at the thought of how much total strangers knew about his likes and dislikes. He never considered himself a public figure and certainly not a celebrity. Everything he did in the spotlight was to support his mission to protect and preserve the dinosaurs of Isla Sorna; no more, no less.

  The silence told him that friendly, smiling Manly was waiting for something more.

  Alan cleared his throat. “You see, I have to have some way of keeping watch on what’s happening on the island, the progress of my team, and so on.”

  “Have you even turned it on yet?”

  Alan frowned. “No.”

  “I’m really good with computers. You need any help, just let me know.” Manly nodded at the carpet of unmoving cars before them. “In fact, I’ll boot it up right now and help you sort through your directories and get you online if you want. That looks like a wireless.”

  Alan put the computer away. “That’s all right. This traffic is aggravating enough.”

  “Yep, one of the parts of Orlando they don’t mention in the tourist brochures.”

  Traffic moved—eventually—and Manly found a nice classical station on the radio that was to Alan’s liking. They were twenty minutes away from the park when Manly spoke again.

  “So what’s it like, making up dinosaurs and such?” he asked.

  Alan was taken aback. “Excuse me?”

  “Whoa!” Manly laughed. “Wasn’t trying to pry into company secrets or anything like that. Just some stuff I read about in the papers.”

  “In the tabloids, you mean,” Alan said. “Right next to BIGFOOT’S GIRLFRIEND and ELVIS’S ALIEN CHILD.”

  “Probably. Just sounded cool. Mix a little longneck with one of those armored dudes with the spiketail and see what you get.”

  Alan shook his head. “Listen, I’m no fan of InGen’s genetic experiments. When I think of how their technology could have been applied to curing diseases, world hunger, you name it . . .”

  Drawing a deep, long breath, Alan forced himself to relax. “In other words, I’ll admit it’s thrilling to some degree that dinosaurs again walk the earth, but it’s the last use that I would have thought of for that technology.”

  “And this from a paleontologist?” Manly asked.

  “Indeed. And all those fine minds, all the people who truly understood what InGen did, are gone now. Some lost on the first island, others at sea during the evacuation. Now it’s up to us to go back from their results to try to piece together what they did.”

  “So you’re not averse to using InGen technology for what you see as the greater good,” Manly said.

  Alan’s forehead furrowed. Signs for Universal Studios Florida had been cropping up for the last several minutes. His guide hadn’t even gotten into the far-right lane so they could make their turn-off, despite the massive line of cars dangerously swerving around them to do exactly that. And his relaxed speech was sounding more formal now, his questions less like friendly chitchat and more like an interview.

  “Manly, do you think you could show me some ID?” Alan asked casually. “You do work for Universal, right?”

  The escort grinned. “Well, I’m sort of driving here, Dr. Grant. Not exactly a safe time to be digging around for my card. Are you sure this can’t wait until we reach the park?”

  Alan sighed. He withdrew a palm-sized cell phone and dialed the guest-services number Deborah had given him for the park.

  “Dr. Grant, there you are!” the woman at the other end said. “We were worried sick when our escort missed picking you up at the airport.”

  “One moment,” Alan said. He covered the phone. “So, do you come clean or do I give your description to my friend and have them pass it along to the police?”

  Manly frowned and pulled into the far-right lane. An exit for the Universal Studios theme park came up and he took it.

  “I should be there in a few moments,” Alan said into the phone. “No worries.”

  He replaced the phone. “Do you mind telling me who you really are, or do I need to start guessing?”

  “Manly Wilks, International Examiner,” the driver said.

  “So you were the one who wrote those stories about Bigfoot and Elvis.”

  “No, I handle conspiracy theories. Use your computer. A basic search will tell you all you need to know.”

  “The only thing I need to know right now is why I shouldn’t be pressing charges.”

  “It wouldn’t stand,” Manly said. “I never said I was your escort—I just told you I was there to take you to the park, and that’s what I’m doing. No harm there.”

  Soon they were approaching Universal’s main gates. Alan told Manly to pull over and they got his things.

  Alan thought about the statements he had made to the reporter. “Do you have some recording device on you?”

  “No need. I have a really good memory.”

  “A good memory, Mr. Wilks?” Alan said. “You’re not the only one. Keep away from me.”

  “The public’s got a right to know what you people are up to on that island,” Manly yelled as Alan walked away. “And I’m gonna be the one to tell ’em!”

  “Right,” Alan muttered. “You and Bigfoot and Elvis.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Sawdust kicked into the air as Eric paced backstage at one of Universal’s major presentation areas, this one decorated for a Wild West show.

  Eric looked out at the crowd gathered for his presentation. The stadium seating was packed and camera operators were everywhere. It was Survivor Week at Universal Studios. Each day, famous people who’d had brushes with danger and high adventure had appeared and talked about their experiences. Today, it was his turn to talk about facing the dinosaurs of Isla Sorna.

  PACHYCEPHALOSAURUS

  Eric looked at his mother. “Where’s Dr. Grant?”

  Amanda smiled as she closed her cell phone. “Just breathe, honey. I’ve been coordinating with guest services. Dr. Grant’s passed the main gates. He’ll be here any time now.”

  The stage door opened and a tour guide ushered Alan Grant inside. Eric’s face lit up as the scientist walked briskly toward him and unslung his travel bags from over his shoulder.

  “Eric, Mrs. Kirby,” Alan mumbled with a short nod. He walked right past Eric and slammed his bags onto a table. “So, I imagine it’s time to submit ourselves to this unpleasant business. I suppose it could be worse, though I’m not exactly sure how.”

  Alan tapped the corners of his mouth and regarded Eric with a forced and very fake smile. “I’m ready for my close-up.”

  Eric turned to his mother, who was making a show of looking at the side of the tour guide’s head.

  “Ma’am, is something the matter?” the dark-haired young tour guide asked Amanda.

  “Just looking to see if Dr. Grant had chewed your ear off with whatever’s got him bothered this time,” Amanda said. “There’s always something, and usually, once you get him started—”

  “Mom!” Eric exclaimed. His greatest dream was to one day return to Isla Sorna as an official and permanent part of the team studying dinosaurs. Whether or not that happened depended on Alan Grant thinking nice things about him.

  Alan sighed. His shoulders slumped. “Your mother’s right, Eric. I was being rude. I just had a little sneak preview of the feeding frenzy out there and it wasn’t pleasant. My apologies.”

  “Sorry you had a bad time,” Amanda said. “I kind of like dealing with the press. It can be fun.”

  Alan held his hand out to Eric. “It’s good to see you without our lives being threatened, for once.”

  Eric shook his hand, happy to see Alan’s face finally relax into a genuine smile. Then his mom and seve
ral stagehands led him and Alan to the stage. Alan looked back to Amanda in confusion.

  “Aren’t you joining us?” he asked. “You were there, too.”

  “I’m just the mom,” Amanda said with a shrug.

  “But—”

  She shook her head. “No one asked me.”

  The “inquisition”—as Alan kept referring to it—started right after introductions and applause.

  “Dr. Grant, how many people have you actually seen eaten by dinosaurs?” one reporter asked.

  Another stood before he could answer. “How can you possibly justify risking more human lives with your work on Isla Sorna?”

  A third rose quickly. Alan’s gaze narrowed; he tensed at the sight of this scruffy reporter in khaki shorts. “What about reports of secret production of human-dinosaur hybrids to be used by the military?”

  “Good morning, Mr. Wilks. What a surprise to see you here,” Alan said.

  Behind the reporter, Josh Newman was bouncing on his heels, his hand raised high. Eric gave him a little wave, which made his young fan grab his dad’s arm and shake it excitedly.

  “Oh, boy,” Eric sighed.

  A studio official leaped before the guests. “Everyone, I’d like to advise you at this time to hold your questions until the question-and-answer period. This is not a press conference. This is a chance for people with an interest in dinosaurs—and stories of survivors—to hear firsthand about the wonders and dangers of dinosaurs.”

  Alan turned to Eric and muttered, “Well, it looks like we’ve got some really dangerous predators to face this time.”

  Eric shrugged. “I could go first.”

  With a laugh, Alan gestured that Eric could have the honor. “If you want to feed yourself to the lions ahead of me, who am I to say no?”

  Wow, Eric thought. This stuff really bothers him.

  Eric quickly recounted his adventures on Isla Sorna, commanding the stage like a polished professional. His mother grinned at him proudly from the wings, and Alan watched him closely. The scientist actually looked impressed—and a shade more relaxed when his turn came to chat about his experiences on the first and second islands, and about the research center he’d established on Isla Sorna.

  Then the inevitable question-and-answer period began. Studio representatives walked around with hand-held microphones and chose who would get to speak. The first half dozen questions were from young fans of Eric’s. But Josh, who was turning red and practically rocking the bleachers as he bounced up and down with his hand in the air, was still waiting for his chance to speak.

  Then a nine-year-old brunette with glasses and a glowing smile was handed the mike. “My name’s Alexa. My question’s for Dr. Grant. Would you talk about the dinosaur eggs they found in Argentina?”

  Alan grinned. “Now that’s the kind of question I’ve been hoping to address!”

  Eric smiled as he took in the excitement in Alan’s eyes.

  “What makes this find extraordinary is that this is the first time fossilized dinosaur skin has ever been found,” Alan said. “The embryos within these eggs are perfectly preserved. There’s no guesswork involved here. No finishing incomplete DNA sequences, as was the case with the InGen dinosaurs. These baby Titanosaurs may prove to be one of the most important discoveries in the history of paleontology.”

  Eric noted a slight sadness creeping onto the scientist’s face. He could easily guess why—Alan hadn’t been a part of this groundbreaking discovery. Alan had said countless times that true paleontology is done in the rock, but now he had no time for the digs that had once been his entire life.

  The mike was finally passed to the very excited Josh. “This question is for Eric! Do you think Isla Sorna will ever be safe for regular people to visit? Like Jurassic Park was supposed to be in the beginning?”

  “Absolutely,” Eric said without hesitation. “That’s the whole point of Dr. Grant’s—”

  “Now hold on,” Alan said, interrupting him. “That is hardly the point of our research on Isla Sorna. I have been, and always will be, appalled at the idea of non-scientists being anywhere near these dangerous creatures. This is about preservation, containment, and gaining knowledge that will help mankind. It is not about surrendering to short-sighted commercial interests.”

  Eric drew back as if he’d been struck. “But, Dr. Grant, not all species of dinosaurs are dangerous and you know it. I mean, it’s like some dogs are dangerous, but not all of them. And it depends on how they’re brought up.”

  “Dino-Pets,” Alan said with pure disgust. “Have you trademarked that one yet? If not, you should. Especially with the world listening.”

  Alan glanced at the audience and the reporters, who were loving every minute of the disagreement. He stood and unhooked his lapel microphone. “The past teaches us nothing. Not even to those of you who need to learn the most.”

  Eric was stunned as Alan left the stage, a handful of reporters chasing after him.

  CHAPTER 5

  That night, seven winged forms flew over Universal Studios. They were Pteranodons: three adults and four young who had flown away from the island that had been the adults’ home—and their prison.

  The Elder trailed behind the two other adults—his daughter and her mate. By the pale moonlight he studied the bright crimson markings along the strong, powerful wings of the flyer who had fought and won the right to be with the Elder’s daughter. The Elder thought of him as Fire because he looked like the fiery dawn. Her markings were blue like the waves and gray like the rocky shore. She was Flood.

  PTERANODON

  The children of Fire and Flood spread out before their parents as the group soared beneath the clouds. The Elder didn’t approve of allowing the young ones to fly ahead of their parents, but Fire and Flood liked to keep their four children where they could see them.

  The group had been searching for some time now. Not one knew for certain what they hoped to find, but each shared a longing for something, perhaps a place, that would end their restlessness and give them peace. The Elder, Flood, and Fire all knew to avoid the busy and dangerous places of the Keepers, the small but smart and dangerous prey that had somehow kept them trapped for so many years.

  The children, though, were fearless. Or simply foolish. They hadn’t learned caution. The smaller flyers were drawn by anything interesting and new. Bright lights, odd sounds. Before their last long crossing over water, the Elder had been forced to restrain two of them on the side of a mountain. The soft brown of his wings had hidden them well from the shining metal beasts of the Keepers, which had sped along a winding path just below the flyers. The Elder’s plain brown body had blended with his surroundings, and they went unnoticed.

  The most troublesome of the four youths was the flyer with the bright golden tinge on his wings. Goldie’s curiosity was boundless, and that was dangerous right now. In this new place, it was harder than ever before to avoid the Keepers.

  The land was flat and hostile. They had been forced to hide by day and hunt by night, using the strange lights of the Keepers to guide them.

  On this night, the flyers had gathered around a small lake. Lights and sudden loud sounds made the Keepers cry out. The flyers stayed high enough to avoid being seen, while their vision allowed them to scan the ground far below for prey.

  Suddenly, a high whistling rose from below. The Elder was the first to hear it. He shrieked a warning to Fire and Flood, but his frantic cry did no good. Explosions sounded all around them, and suddenly the sky was alive with bursts of blinding color, pinwheels of bright light, and falling stars.

  The flyers panicked. Two of the children smacked into each other, their hard skulls thwacking together in the night. When they fell away, their sharp claws barely avoided each other’s wings.

  Goldie was heading right for one of the quickly fading light displays. The Elder cawwwed a warning, as did Goldie’s parents and brothers. It did no good. A second later, another explosion came and the light enveloped the young flyer
.

  “Meep!” Goldie cried as his wing was set aflame. Then, in panic and fear, the young, curious flyer dropped from the sky.

  The remaining six flyers dove for him, heedless of the explosions around them. The Elder caught a downdraft and soared toward the golden-winged Pteranodon, catching him on the back of his own, much wider wings. He felt Goldie sliding off and struggled not to drop him. Then Fire and Flood were above him. Flood’s claws caught Goldie as he tumbled free, and the group sped downward, landing close to a small isolated pool in the vast compound of their enemy.

  Goldie was drenched in the water and the flames fizzled out. The other six gathered around the wounded, shaking flyer, prepared to defend him with their lives.

  The Keepers had done this.

  Until—and if—Goldie was able to fly once more, the group would need food. Shelter.

  This place would be theirs.

  CHAPTER 6

  Eric was in a miserable mood when he woke the next morning. All the hard stuff was over. The book signings, the meet-and-greets, the television interviews, and the evening spent with the winner of the “Have Dinner with a Survivor!” contest—all of it was behind him now. Now it was time to spend a couple of days relaxing and enjoying the attractions at Universal. But all he could think about was the unhappy look Alan had given him during their talk.

  He had breakfast in the hotel restaurant with his mother. She took one look at him and knew exactly what was the matter. Her gaze narrowed and she shook her head.

  “I know we owe Dr. Grant a lot,” Amanda said. “I’ll never deny that. But he was in a rotten mood when he got here yesterday and he didn’t have any right to take it out on you.”

  “He didn’t,” Eric said, pushing his eggs around on his plate and not eating a bite.

  “You said what you thought. What you believe in. Right?”