Jurassic Park^TM III Novelization Read online

  Then Alan heard voices from the other side of the stampede. He glimpsed Billy, Paul, Amanda, and Udesky gathered together. A line of raptors was racing their way!

  “Alan!” called Billy.

  “Keep going!” yelled Alan, knowing they had no choice but to separate.

  CHAPTER 7

  DR. ALAN GRANT was now crouched in a network of heavy branches. The sun was beginning to set. Soon it would be evening.

  Below him, a pack of angry raptors waited. At the moment, he remained just beyond their reach, but they weren’t giving up their watch.

  As terrified as he was, Alan couldn’t help but be fascinated by their communication. Their chirps and barks were like a nightmarish birdsong. It had a rhythm. A structure. Just like speech.

  They kept “saying” the same thing, over and over. Under his breath, he mimicked the raptors’ speech patterns.

  What does that mean? he wondered as he looked into the dark eyes of the predators. What are you saying?

  The predators’ only reply was the same series of chirps and barks. Then one of the raptors jumped higher and nearly caught his foot.

  Alan looked up. He wanted to climb higher, but he couldn’t see any branches that would support his weight.

  Suddenly, he heard a low creaking. A crack.

  The branch he stood upon was starting to give!

  Trying to control his fear, he looked down at the faces of the predators. He was about to become their next meal. . . .

  Crick-crack. Snap. Hssssssss.

  A small canister suddenly landed at the base of the tree, spraying out a thick cloud of oily fog! Four more canisters landed near the raptors and spewed more of the caustic mist.

  The raptors recoiled and screamed in pain. Shrieking, they ran off blindly.

  Alan’s eyes burned from the gas. He saw a human shape moving through the fog below.

  “Come on! They’ll be back!” called a voice.

  Alan half climbed and half fell out of the tree. A small, dirty hand reached out and grabbed his arm. He stumbled and coughed as he rushed to get through the thickest part of the smoke cloud.

  Several minutes later, Alan’s blurred vision began to clear. He was deeper in the jungle and he could no longer hear the raptors. The mysterious figure led him into a rocky stream.

  In the golden glow of twilight, he looked down at the face of his rescuer. The boy removed the rag that had encircled his nose and mouth. At first, all Alan could see was the filth and grime covering the boy’s flesh and the camouflage cloak of leaves that draped his torn clothes. Then the boy removed the safety goggles he’d been wearing, and Alan saw the boy’s eyes.

  They were bright and intelligent. The same eyes he had seen in a photograph from Paul Kirby’s wallet.

  These were Eric Kirby’s eyes.

  Only—there was something different about the look in them now. Something wild.

  He almost didn’t seem human.

  CHAPTER 8

  ERIC LED THE WAY along the stream. The man he’d rescued was uncoordinated, and the way he tramped along the ground was loud. Eric was worried the predators would hear them.

  Finally, they came to a swampy pond where a rusting tanker truck sat headlight-deep in the water. Eric opened the tanker’s hatch and crawled through. The tall man followed, and the hatch closed with an iron clang. Then Eric sealed it shut behind them and lit a small, battery-powered lantern.

  The man settled into Eric’s living space, which was no bigger than the inside of a van.

  “Thanks a lot, Eric—” said the man.

  Eric held up his hand. He listened for a moment, his ears attuned to the familiar sounds of lurking predators. Then he turned his gaze back on the man.

  “You know who I am?” asked Eric.

  “Yes. Your parents are both here,” said the man. “They’re looking for you.”

  “On the island?” Eric asked. “Together?”

  Alan nodded. “Yes. Together.”

  Eric stared. He couldn’t believe it. He had been hoping to be rescued, but by his parents?

  His shoulders slumped.

  “They’ll never make it,” he said quietly. “I mean, they can’t even manage when the cable goes out. And . . . they don’t do so well together.”

  “You’d be surprised what people can do when they have to,” the man said.

  Eric wanted to believe that. He looked at the man again. The face seemed familiar. After seeing no other living beings except dinosaurs for so long, Eric had almost started to think of himself as one of the animals loose on the island. His memory of other human beings, of their faces, their voices, had been fading.

  Eric switched on a second lantern and the dim glow of light in the van brightened. He looked again at the man’s face, and a jolt of recognition hit him.

  “You’re Alan Grant!” Eric said.

  Dr. Grant looked surprised to be recognized.

  “I read both of your books,” Eric told him.

  “And which one did you prefer?”

  “The first one,” Eric said. “Before you were on the island. You liked dinosaurs back then.”

  “Well,” Dr. Grant said with a slightly bitter laugh, “back then, they hadn’t tried to eat me.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Your parents—they invited me to come with them . . . to look for you.”

  Eric watched the scientist look at his hideaway. He seemed impressed. Eric had scavenged a great deal. There were some battery-powered lanterns, a pair of binoculars, and lots of candy wrappers. Eric had been living mostly on chocolate and other junk food for weeks.

  “When InGen cleared out, they left a lot of stuff behind,” Eric said.

  “Any weapons, radios?” Dr. Grant asked.

  “I used the last of the gas grenades just now,” said Eric.

  “And I appreciate it,” Dr. Grant said; then he looked around the space again. Against a wall he saw a bottle half filled with a murky yellow liquid. He picked it up.

  “Don’t open that!” said Eric quickly.

  “Why not?”

  “It came from a T. rex. Keeps some of the smaller ones away, but it seems to attract another really big one with a sail.”

  Dr. Grant carefully put the bottle down again. “Anything else you used as a . . . ah . . . weapon?”

  Eric pulled out a long cattle prod. “Found this, but the battery’s dead.”

  “It’s a wonder you aren’t,” Dr. Grant said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m astonished, Eric. I barely lasted thirty hours. You’ve lasted eight weeks.”

  Eric shuddered. “Eight weeks. Is that all it’s been?” He had honestly thought it had been much longer.

  “The important thing is we both made it,” said Dr. Grant reassuringly. “That’s something we have in common.”

  Eric shrugged.

  “Did you read Malcolm’s book?” asked Dr. Grant.

  “Yeah,” said Eric.

  Ian Malcolm was a rival scientist. Like Dr. Grant, he had been trapped on Jurassic Park once, too.

  “What did you think?” asked Dr. Grant.

  “I dunno. I mean, it was kind of preachy. Chaos this, chaos that. And like, to me, the guy seemed kind of high on himself.”

  Dr. Grant smiled. “That’s two things we have in common.”

  Eric found it difficult to listen any longer. He was tired and hungry. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the candy bar he had scavenged just before he spotted Dr. Grant and the raptors. He’d learned the hard way not to keep too much food in his shelter.

  He was halfway finished with the candy bar before he noticed the hard swallows of his companion.

  Oh, right, Eric reminded himself. Humans share food.

  “Here,” Eric said. He handed the other half of the bar to Dr. Grant, then watched with fascination as the otherwise reserved scientist tore into it like a Tyrannosaurus rex he’d seen savaging its prey.

  A few miles away, Eric’s parents were still worried
sick about him. Perched with Billy up in the treetops, they were far from safe. Sadly, they had lost Udesky to the raptors, but nothing had come after them for a while, so they settled in for the night. At daybreak, they would resume the search for their son—and Alan.

  Seeing his wife crying, Paul turned toward her. “I just want you to know, Amanda, it’s not your fault what happened.”

  Amanda sniffed, clearly miserable.

  “Eric has always been headstrong,” continued Paul, “and you throw Ben Hildebrand into the mix, and, well . . .”

  “Well what?”

  “Well water. I don’t want to speak ill of the dead. What I’m trying to say is, it was just a crazy accident. The exact same thing could have happened if he was with me.”

  Amanda shook her head. “This wouldn’t have happened if he was with you.” Her voice sounded so sad, so full of regret—not just about their son, but also about their marriage. “I mean, you drive five miles an hour below the speed limit. I totaled three cars in five years—”

  “Well . . . the Buick wasn’t really totaled,” Paul admitted. “I just said it was. I . . . I wanted to get the SUV.”

  “He would have been safe with you, Paul,” Amanda insisted. “But I wanted him to see more of the world than Enid, Oklahoma. And I wanted to see more of the world than Enid, Oklahoma. And so, yes, it’s my fault this happened. I’m sorry that you have to be here.”

  Paul’s answer was simple: “I’m not sorry at all.”

  Tears staining her cheeks, Amanda met her husband’s gaze. She wasn’t just grateful for Paul’s answer. For the first time in years, she was simply grateful for Paul.

  CHAPTER 9

  MORNING BROUGHT A LOW MIST to the forest floor of Isla Sorna, and Eric sealed up his hideaway for what he hoped would be the last time. As he and Alan left the truck, Eric took one of his prized possessions from his pocket and showed it to the scientist.

  “Know what this is?” Eric asked.

  Alan examined the sharp-edged, three-inch-long sickle-shaped object. “A raptor claw. I used to have one. A fossil.”

  Eric grinned, remembering exactly how he had gained this prize. “Mine’s new.”

  Alan looked at him strangely and handed back the claw as if he were placing his fingers near the mouth of a very dangerous animal. Eric took in the scientist’s discomfort and felt ashamed of the feral pride he’d shown only a moment before.

  It’s going to be all right, Eric told himself. He had to force himself to evolve from the wild survivor he had become into a human being once more. He had to. It would break his heart to have his mom or dad look at him the way Dr. Grant just had.

  “How much of the island have you explored?” Alan asked.

  “I stayed close to the compound,” Eric said, though that wasn’t entirely true. There had been more than one time when he’d been forced to stray pretty far from the complex. But if he told Dr. Grant any of those stories, the man might never look at him like a regular thirteen-year-old again.

  “I figured if anyone came to look for me, that’s where they’d start,” said Eric.

  “We need to head for the coast,” Alan said.

  Eric stopped. “What about my mom and dad?”

  “They went through the compound already, and they didn’t find you,” Alan said. “The coast is where they’ll be heading next.”

  “Are you sure?” Eric pressed.

  “Why?” asked Alan.

  “Closer you get to the water,” Eric noted, “the bigger things get.”

  Eric and Alan walked in silence after that. Dinosaurs might be anywhere, so it was imporant to move quietly.

  When they came to a clearing, they discovered a ridge that looked over a distant river far below. The river was half shrouded in fog. Alan used the binoculars.

  “There’s a derelict barge resting against the riverbank. It looks to be in good shape,” Alan said.

  He handed the binoculars to Eric, who tried to spot the barge.

  “A rescue boat?” Eric asked.

  “No, something left behind. But it floats.” Alan searched the canyon. “All we need to do is find a way down. Then we could follow the river out to the ocean.”

  Eric opened his mouth to speak.

  Alan cut him off with a gesture. “We’ll keep looking for your parents along the way. With any luck, the Costa Rican Coast Guard will pick us all up.”

  “Then we go home?” Eric asked.

  Alan nodded. “Then we go home.”

  Suddenly, a familiar ringing sounded nearby. Eric instantly recognized the distinct and annoying melody.

  “That sounds like my dad’s phone!” Eric said. He rushed off to follow the sound. Alan tried to slow him down, but Eric was too fast for him.

  “Wait!” Alan called. “How do you know?”

  Eric sang to the electronic jingle. “Kirby Paint and Tile Plus—in Westgate!” The ringing grew louder. “Dad? DAD?”

  In an instant, Eric was no longer a wild boy, focused every waking moment on survival. Suddenly, he was the kid from Enid, Oklahoma, again—and he was desperate for his parents to take him home and keep him safe. Reaching them was all that mattered.

  Eric raced ahead. The phone stopped ringing, but he heard other sounds now. Human voices. People calling his name.

  “Mom! Dad!” Eric yelled.

  He burst into a meadow and saw them shouting, “Eric!”

  As he ran to meet them, he read their features—disbelief, joy, terror, relief, love. Every emotion seemed to be there in his parents’ faces. It had been so long since he’d seen human emotions, it felt wonderful!

  The only thing standing between Eric and his parents now was one of InGen’s giant dinosaur fences. Eric ran up to it, his fingers curling around the metal bars. He looked up and saw that it could not be climbed over. There was a line of rusty spikes on the top.

  Paul and Amanda hugged their son through the fence.

  Amanda managed a kiss, too.

  “Sweetheart,” she said, almost out of breath. “You’re okay. You’re okay!”

  Eric’s dad squared his shoulders proudly. “Never had a doubt. Never did. Us Kirby men, we stick around, huh?”

  “We do,” Eric said.

  Eric’s mom licked her shirttail and tried to rub his face clean through the fence. Eric used to hate it when she did that. Now he didn’t even think of pulling away. He just smiled and let her scrub.

  “Honey,” Paul said, touching Amanda’s shoulder, “there’s not enough spit in the world for that.”

  Amanda laughed. It sounded to Eric as if it had been the first time she’d laughed in months.

  Billy caught up with the Kirbys at the same time Alan reached Eric.

  Alan looked unhappily at the fence standing between them. “We need to find a gap.”

  Everyone walked along the fence, looking for an opening.

  Eric stayed close to his parents.

  “So, sport,” his dad asked, “how did you know we were so close?”

  “I heard your phone ring,” Eric said. “That stupid jingle from the store.”

  “My phone?” his dad asked. His forehead creased and he frowned in confusion. He searched his pockets and backpack as the others watched.

  “Where is it?” Amanda asked.

  “I don’t know,” Paul said. “I didn’t think I had it with me.”

  “When did you use it last?” Amanda asked.

  Paul shrugged. “I don’t remember.”

  “Think,” Amanda said. Her brief calm was fading.

  Paul shook his head. “The plane. I got a call on the plane, put the phone in my coat pocket, and—”

  Paul’s gentle expression changed, tensing with an awful realization.

  “What?” Amanda demanded. “WHAT?”

  “I loaned it to Nash,” Paul said quietly. “He must have had it on him when he . . .”

  Eric looked to his parents, Billy, and Alan. They all appeared horror-struck.

  “I don’t
understand,” Eric said. “Who’s Nash?”

  The ringing came again, accompanied by heavy footfalls. Something big was coming.

  “When the plane was attacked,” Alan said. “Nash was—”

  Eric heard a growl and the sound of a small tree falling. He saw a huge dinosaur appear on his side of the fence and stand motionless at the edge of the jungle. It was over sixteen feet high, nearly fifty feet long, and had a crocodile-shaped head and a mouth full of long, sharp teeth. Along its back, a five-foot-tall sail glistened in the dappled sunlight.

  Spinosaurus, realized Eric instantly. And this guy Nash had obviously become spino breakfast.

  The dinosaur’s jaws parted. Rahhhhrrrr-grahhhrrrr!

  “Run,” Alan said in not much more than a whisper.

  Alan and Eric bolted as the Spinosaurus came crashing out of the trees. Amanda, Paul, and Billy kept up with them on the other side of the fence.

  Alan pointed at a small hole in the fence, which had probably been made by one of the smaller dinosaurs.

  “Through there!” Alan yelled.

  Eric dove through the opening. He rolled and came to his feet. Turning, he saw Alan following. The Spinosaurus was a foot behind him, its jaws about to close on Alan’s legs, when the scientist hauled himself through to safety!

  SNAP!

  The Spinosaurus’s mouth closed in frustration and the animal roared as it flung itself at the fence, clawing and tearing with savage fury!

  Everyone ran toward a concrete building at the edge of the canyon. Eric glanced back to see the Spinosaurus crashing through the fence. It was coming after them!

  When they reached the building, Alan hauled the steel doors open and the others rushed inside. The dinosaur’s thunderous footfalls grew louder as Alan slammed the steel doors shut. The doors were clearly designed to be secure, with heavy bolts on the top and bottom. Alan slid the last bolt as the Spinosaurus smashed against the far side.

  Eric gasped. The hinges strained but held. The dinosaur struck again and again, then scraped its claws against the door. Finally, it stopped. There was no way the dinosaur was getting in.