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  Eric held his head up with one hand. He hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep. “I dunno. That whole thing about dinosaurs for pets, that wasn’t what I was getting at. You know, ‘Hi, this is Rudy, my raptor buddy!’ Duh, like that would ever happen. It wasn’t what I meant.”

  “Exactly,” Amanda said. Her cell phone went off. She snapped it open, checked the incoming number, and held it out to Eric. “It’s for you.”

  Eric took the phone.

  “How you doin’, sport?”

  It was his dad! For the first time since taking the stage yesterday, Eric perked up. He told his dad about how amazing the trip had been.

  “Wish I could be there with ya,” Paul Kirby said. “But you know Enid. Somebody’s gotta hold the fort down.”

  Eric smiled. His father’s hokey expressions always cracked him up. “Yeah, Dad. Hold the fort down. You never know when it might just up and fly away!”

  Paul laughed. “Exactly. And in Enid, we can’t afford much of a fort as it is.”

  By the time the call was done, Eric felt a hundred times better. He handed the phone back to his mom. “You always know the right thing to cheer me up.”

  “Hey, I’m Supermom. It’s what I do.” The cell phone rang again. She checked the number, said, “Uh-uh,” and turned off the ringer. “That Hollywood agent again. The one who wants you to do TV commercials and all that wacky stuff.”

  Eric thought of what Alan would say if he started doing product endorsements. The book was one thing. It had been a way of dealing with the emotional fallout from what he had gone through on the island. But running around with fake dinosaurs chasing him and holding up a soft drink after he’d escaped? There was no way he’d exploit and trivialize what he had gone through like that.

  “Not interested,” Eric said.

  Amanda smiled. “Not a problem.”

  A man walked past in a familiar-looking hat. Eric sprang to his feet—then sighed when he realized it wasn’t Alan. Amanda saw the whole thing. “Eric.”

  “I just wish I could talk to him again, that’s all,” Eric said.

  “You and me both.”

  Eric shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. He’s going back today. I want to fix things.”

  “You don’t have anything to fix,” Amanda said. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Not a single thing.”

  Eric left another message for Alan at the scientist’s hotel, then let his mom talk him into doing the “tourist thing.” They were just about to board the boat for the Jaws ride when Eric saw Josh Newman racing toward him.

  “Eric! Eric, over here!” Josh called.

  “Your adoring public,” Amanda said. “Want me to run interference for you? I’ve faced raptors. I think I can take him.”

  Eric laughed. “It’s fine.”

  Josh joined them on the boat, his dad staying behind. They’d already done the ride twice since coming here.

  “So that thing yesterday with you and Dr. Grant, what’s up with that?” Josh asked. “He really seemed ticked off!”

  Amanda rubbed her forehead. “Josh, this might not be—”

  “He had a rough flight,” Eric said. “No big deal.”

  “Oh,” Josh said. “So you think one day, they really would let people like me go to the island? Or maybe, y’know, the next time you get to go, could I come along?”

  “That’s not up to me,” Eric said. He wished Josh would just drop it. What did Alan Grant need with some kid like Josh running around the island, getting in the way when he was trying to get his work done?

  The boat left the dock and Bill, the helmsman, smiled a little too broadly as he took them out. The young, good-looking Asian American man made a show of appearing nervous.

  “Wow, you guys are packed in like sardines,” Bill said, the sunlight sparkling in his bright green eyes. “Not to make you feel like fish food or anything. I wonder if we should’ve used a bigger boat. . . .”

  “This is so cool,” Josh said. “Just wait until we get to the end. There’s all these explosions and the coast guard shows up and everything just goes crazy. . . .”

  The water was a little choppy and a strong breeze blew in from the east as Bill got the ship up to a leisurely speed. Storefronts that looked exactly like the ones from the Jaws movie lined the docks of the simulated harbor.

  “I want to assure everyone that I’m qualified to pilot this ship,” Bill said. “I’m not actually the captain. He got eaten—um, called away, I mean. A little emergency, these things happen. Believe me, we at Amity Beach Waterways Tours are all about safety first, so don’t any of you worry about those shark rumors. We just get dolphins sometimes, like harmless ol’ Flipper, yep, that’s it. . . .”

  Eric grinned. The actor taking them through the waterway was really into it. Someone gasped, then laughed and pointed as bits and pieces of savaged clothing drifted by either side of the boat.

  The boat rounded a curve, and a half-sunk, flaming tour boat came into view.

  Bill gasped. “Whoa, whoa, whoa—that’s not good.” He put his hand over his mouth. “That’s the boat that went before us. What could have—”

  The captain’s words were cut off by the infamous first notes of the Jaws theme. People gasped as the giant shark burst from the water with such force that everyone on the left side of the boat was soaked! Bill grabbed the wheel and steered them clear as the predator sank beneath the choppy water.

  “Did I mention I used to be a Navy Seal?” Bill asked. “No? Good, ’cause I wasn’t. But if it makes any of you feel better, just pretend and maybe we’ll get through this!”

  Beside Eric, Josh laughed his head off.

  From somewhere close, pelicans cawwwed. The sun was in Eric’s eyes as he saw one of the birds rise over an Amity facade and lazily drift their way. Only—the pelican didn’t look right, somehow. The wings were way longer than they should have been, and there was a large spike rising from the back of its skull. . . .

  “No,” Eric whispered.

  The boat turned and Eric got a better look at the flying creature as it dropped from the sky. It was bigger than he thought at first. Five or ten times bigger.

  This was no pelican. In fact, it was not a true creature of the natural world, not anymore.

  As one of the adult InGen Pteranodons screeched and dove directly at them, Eric knew exactly what it was—his nightmare had come to life!

  CHAPTER 7

  This was not part of the show. And Eric knew it.

  He screamed and struggled to get out of his seat as the full-grown male Pteranodon blurred through the sky, set on a dive-bombing course for the little boat.

  “We’ve gotta get away!” Eric yelled, his fear overtaking him.

  The “captain” of the Jaws boat ride hadn’t seen the threat. Bill put his hands out, attempting to stay in character while he tried to calm what he thought was an overexcited young customer. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m a trained professional—we’ll be fine!”

  Then he looked over his shoulder at the water and made a broad, theatrical gulp as the drumming pulse of the Jaws theme grew louder and more insistent.

  BLACK PTERANODON

  “Not the shark! Up there, up there!” Eric yelled, jerking his head at the sky as he grabbed the metal bar in his lap. They were trapped. The safety bars held them firmly in place.

  Amanda looked up first—and screamed.

  A couple of people looked up, then laughed and screamed, too, thinking it was all part of the fun. A few saw the real threat as it cawwwed a final time and swooped in for its lightning-fast attack.

  It went for Bill, the one person on the boat who could be grabbed and lifted clean off. The actor turned at the sound of the flying reptile’s last shriek and went off balance, slipping on the slick deck. The great rear claws reaching for him missed. Instead, the Pteranodon’s wing struck Bill’s skull and the actor fell over the side, sinking like a stone beneath the water.

  “No!” Eric shouted.

 
Everyone saw it now. Panic engulfed the passengers on the doomed little boat as the Pteranodon swung high into the sky like a pen-dulum and turned gracefully to dive at them a second time.

  The water beside the boat churned and Bill exploded from its surface. Gasping and spitting, he stared in wide-eyed horror as the Pteranodon came at him once more. Tearing his gaze away from the terrifying creature, Bill shouted, “The release for the bars! It’s on the right-hand side!”

  Then he dove beneath the water, barely avoiding the grasping claws of the flyer as it skidded like a stone across the blue surface and rose into the sky again.

  Everyone was struggling now, and all the screams were real. Some didn’t believe this was real—It can’t be happening, not to me—while others were so terrified they couldn’t form a single thought beyond Flee, flee, flee!

  “What do we do?” Josh hollered, grabbing Eric’s arm so hard that it hurt. “What do we do?”

  Eric felt paralyzed. He was vaguely aware of his mother digging through her purse with wildly shaking hands, frantically hissing, “Come on, come on, I know you’re in here, come on . . .”

  Bill rose from the water, gasping, just as the Pteranodon went for him yet again, this time opening wide gashes in his shoulders and tearing his shirt as he dove below the water. The boat continued moving away from the fallen helmsman, following its own preprogrammed course.

  Cawwwhhhrrr! The Pteranodon soon abandoned Bill and whipped around, turning its crimson wings in a magnificent arc as it set its sights on the boat. The trapped passengers looked ripe and ready for the taking, unlike this elusive and frustrating prey in the water.

  “The button, the button,” Eric whispered. He craned his neck and saw the release at the front of the boat, near the wheel. Bright and shining and silver, it had to be the release for the metal bars restraining the passengers.

  Eric looked around for something to throw. Shoes, he thought, shoes would be perfect, but they were all crammed in too tightly for anyone to get their shoes off in time. He snatched a camera bag from the webbed doodad holder attached to the back of the chair in front of him and hurled it at the button.

  He missed. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the Pteranodon sailing in fast and heard it cawwwing in triumph. Fear nearly paralyzed him; then he heard his mom holler, “Gotcha!”

  He snatched his mom’s purse just as she grabbed something out of it. Then he hurled the purse at the button. It slapped against the hard plastic next to the button. Missed again!

  There was no more time. The Pteranodon was on them, its sharp beak snapping, the golden sun lighting its eyes like wildfires at midnight.

  Amanda raised her hand and sprayed something at the creature’s face. It hissed and veered off course, jerking abruptly upward and away, the breeze of its wings ruffling Eric’s hair. The Pteranodon wobbled as it sliced just over the surface of the water, pulling up sharply to avoid hitting a small atoll in the lake. It flew beneath the low bridge that was coming up.

  “Bug spray,” Amanda said, almost out of breath. “Nailed him!”

  The prerecorded voices of “coast guard officials” hollered at the helmsman to get his boat out of the area as they passed beneath a covered bridge. Eric grabbed at his shoe, trying to get it loose so he’d have something else to throw at the release. He smelled something like gasoline in the water.

  “What is that smell?” Eric demanded as he tried to work his shoe loose. Ahead, the Pteranodon had circled and was heading back their way.

  “Fuel spill,” Josh bleated. “On the ride, there’s a fuel spill, and then—”

  The fake shark attacked as the Pteranodon once more flew straight at the group. A sudden series of explosions rocked the boat. Eric could feel the heat.

  With a squawk of fear and alarm, the Pteranodon veered off course and pulled up so fast it smacked the bridge and dropped down hard near the mechanical shark. It whipped about in fear at the sight of the creature.

  “It thinks the shark’s a Megalodon or something!” Josh cried.

  Eric knew that during the age of dinosaurs, Pteranodons had a poor sense of smell, but incredible vision. These InGen versions might or might not share those traits. One way or another, the flyer was so startled it didn’t realize the shark wasn’t real. It didn’t seem to smell the plastic and steel rather than juicy flesh.

  “Mom, when you quit smoking, you didn’t really quit, did you?” Eric asked.

  Amanda was frantic. “Eric, you’re on me about this now?”

  “Do you have your lighter?”

  With trembling hands, she pointed at the bag Eric had tossed. The contents were spilled all over. He spotted the lighter about a foot from the bag, next to his mom’s cell phone.

  Just then, his right sneaker came loose. He tossed it at the silver release—and hit it dead on! The bar slowly eased upward and he was free. Some people dove over the side; others crouched and covered their heads. Eric scrambled ahead and grabbed for the lighter. The Pteranodon screeched as it flapped its wings and launched itself at the boat again.

  The boat cleared the covered bridge as Eric fired up the lighter and locked the flame in the on position in one motion. Then he tossed it at the patch of water just ahead that smelled of strange chemicals.

  A fiery burst rose just as the Pteranodon flew overhead, talons reaching for Josh. It screeched and veered away, sailing off toward the buildings beyond the Amity pier.

  The fake shark appeared a final time, and the flames upon the water burned higher and brighter, searing the plastic monster.

  The boat was nearly at the dock, but half the passengers didn’t wait. In a panic, they jumped and swam for shore.

  Eric and his mother stayed in the boat. But the instant it stopped, Eric sprang out and raced ahead of his mother.

  “We’ve got to find Dr. Grant!”

  CHAPTER 8

  Carrying his travel bag and laptop, Alan Grant had told his driver that he would meet him by guest services at eleven sharp. That had been an hour ago. Now he had only a few more minutes to find Eric in the park and say goodbye.

  He had gotten in very late last night, too late to return Eric’s messages, and he didn’t want to leave things unsettled between them.

  “Dr. Grant!”

  Alan’s shoulders tightened. He knew that voice—Manly Wilks—and he had no intention of stopping for it. When he heard running, he knew that Manly had no intention of giving up. The reporter was beside him in moments, holding up a small digital video camera.

  “So, Dr. Grant, how about one last statement on the rumors that a secret group of international foreign interests is paying you to produce bio-weapons for them?” Manly said.

  Alan didn’t take the bait. He knew the reporter would love for him to overreact the way he had yesterday. “Mr. Wilks, tell me, how can I miss you if you won’t go away?”

  “Now, Dr. Grant, is that any way to speak to a card-carrying member of the free press?” Manly asked. “Without the kind of publicity you came here to get, you probably wouldn’t know what to do with—”

  A horrible scream came from a dozen yards behind the men. They looked back and saw a nightmarish vision—huge creatures swooping down from the skies, trying to snatch up men, women, and children in their great claws.

  Pteranodons. There were close to half a dozen, and at least three were the size of adults.

  Manly aimed his digital camera as one of the creatures soared right over his head. He spun, capturing its flight toward a doomed couple. The woman tried to run, but was grabbed by the flyer.

  The Pteranodons sailed over the park’s re- creations of “San Francisco,” “Hollywood,” and “New York,” snatching tourists and guides, hauling them high into the air and dropping them into the central lagoon.

  “It’s . . . it’s a coordinated assault,” Alan whispered.

  A young flyer shrieked as it flew in fast at Alan, its claws twitching and ready. Blue and red spots dotted its wings. The scientist knew what he had to do—h
old his ground, wait until the last second, then duck—but he was frozen!

  Manly grabbed Alan’s laptop and swung it by the strap at the Pteranodon’s head. It connected with a sharp crack and the flyer wobbled off, then fell skidding into the boardwalk. It crawled onto all fours. Standing on its hind legs, the young flyer faced into the wind with outspread wings. A single leap and stroke of its wings raised it into the air.

  Manly caught it all on his digital recorder. “So, talk to me. What did you mean by ‘a coordinated assault’?”

  Alan stared in shock at the reporter. The man barely registered the danger he was in. He showed no compassion for the people around him. The last time Alan had faced anything so single-minded, it had been on the island. In fact, Manly seemed to have the same terrible determination as a T. rex!

  “Come on, Grant. I just saved your life. Now you’ve got to give me that exclusive!”

  Turning from the reporter in disgust, Alan raced toward the closest cluster of people. They were panicking, running around without thought.

  “Get inside!” Alan hollered. “Head for any of these buildings and take cover!”

  Only a handful listened to him. He saw Amanda, Eric, and another boy running his way. Another young flyer dropped toward them. This one had a pair of silver streaks that looked like lightning bolts. Alan pointed at the outdoor arcade near the small group.

  “Use anything you can get your hands on!” Alan yelled.

  In the confusion, the group snatched up a handful of baseballs from a target toss game and lobbed them at the Pteranodon as it landed near them. With a sort of glee, the animal darted and danced out of the way of each ball, as if it were anticipating exactly what throw each of the humans would make.

  “Oh, man, I suck at this game!” the boy next to Eric yelled.

  Eric grabbed a hula hoop from another section of the arcade and raced at the flyer. The Pterano-don was almost as startled as Alan and Amanda. It sprang at Eric at the last minute, but Eric threw the hoop and dove out of the way.