Flyers (7 page)

CHAPTER 15

They found the communications room quickly. Manly went to a computer in the corner and hooked up his digital camera. Amanda practically attacked the phone, but all she could summon up was another series of busy signals. Eric and Josh surveyed the equipment with Alan.

“We can tap into the park’s loudspeakers and announcement system from here,” Eric said as he pointed at a set of controls.

“So I could talk to my dad?” Josh said, his chest heaving with excitement.

“He’d hear
us,
” Alan said. “We wouldn’t hear him.”

PTERANODON

Josh nodded, his shoulders sagging. “Right. I didn’t think of that.”

Eric understood. When he was lost on Isla Sorna, the logical conclusion wasn’t always the first one he came to, either. And yet . . . Josh was glaring at him, as if he felt Eric was somehow to blame for things.

“Come on, it’ll be okay,” Eric said as he put his hand on Josh’s shoulder.

“You don’t know that,” Josh said sharply. “You don’t know anything.”

Eric drew back and let Josh busy himself in another corner of the room, checking out a control manual.

Alan went over to Manly. “You know how to do this?” Alan asked.

“Yes, not a problem,” the reporter said. He was wearing Alan’s flannel shirt. Alan still wore his T-shirt and hat. “Local and state authorities. Animal control. On-site security. The e-mail addresses you gave me for your people on Isla Sorna. You name it, I’ve got ’em covered.”

“Good.”

“I want to get through this just like anyone else. All we have to do is log on and hit send.” Manly hit the sign-in button. The computer made several attempts to log on, but the Net was busy.

“It’ll just keep trying until it gets through,” Manly said. He looked at his watch. “Must be getting dark by now.”

“Maybe they’ll go to sleep,” Amanda said. “Then everyone can just sneak out of the lagoon. We could go, too.”

“I don’t think so,” Alan said.

Eric agreed. “There’s been plenty of sightings of these guys since they left Isla Sorna, but none of them mentioned the young. So I’d say all the stories of people spotting them were made up: people looking to get their names in the papers, or thinking they saw something they didn’t see.”

“It would make sense that the flyers would adopt a nocturnal lifestyle,” Alan said. “Sleep during the day, hunt at night, keep away from highly civilized areas to avoid detection and capture.”

“Pteranodons spent most of their time in the air,” Eric said. “They had to eat almost constantly to have the energy to fly.”

“Then those people out there . . . they’re a food supply!” Manly said.

“It might not be that,” Eric said quickly, realizing Josh might panic. “Back on the island, all the dinosaurs and the Pteranodons were caged. Humans kept them penned. Maybe they just want to keep the people where they can see them. That way, they won’t feel threatened.”

Josh nodded and looked away.

Eric exchanged glances with his mom and Alan. None of them were buying that story for a minute.

Neither was the reporter. Manly leaned against the wall as he waited for the computer to connect. “All right. So you want to deal with this head-on? Let’s. What did you mean before about how Pteranodons ‘did’ this or they ‘did’ that? What we’re dealing with outside are Pteranodons, right?”

“That’s actually the first intelligent observation I’ve heard you make,” said Alan.

“Boys,” Amanda broke in, “don’t fight.”

Alan drew a deep, shuddering breath. “Keep in mind, we’re not dealing with Pteranodons plucked out of time and dropped on our doorstep. These are genetically engineered replicas based on limited DNA, the current scientific thought at the time of their ‘construction,’ and whatever whims the human programmers had when they were designing these flyers. They may have thought the Pteranodons could be trained like seals to perform in shows, so the creatures were given a more advanced intellect and the strength to perform stunts like plucking an actor from a crowd and flying away with him. Who knows what was on John Hammond’s mind?”

“More dinosaurs,” Amanda said.

Alan shook his head. “Ah—no. Pteranodons aren’t actually dinosaurs. Their anatomy is different, so they’re not classified that way. They’re flying reptiles that existed pretty much through the Mesozoic, the 250-million-year span when dinosaurs walked the Earth.”

Amanda crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, whatever they are, they’re not our problem this time. People will come and deal with them, and until then, we’re safe and we’ve got everything we need. We’ve got food and water, we’re in a defensible locale—”

“For the moment,” Alan said.

“There’s no reason for going out there, for risking any of our necks. Let the trained professionals deal with this.”

“Yeah, about that,” Manly said, pointing at the computer screen. The machine had finally logged on.

They watched an Internet broadcast of the helicopter going down in solemn silence.

“Well, listen,” Manly said. “The authorities—”

“They’re not equipped,” Eric said in a low voice. A dozen more terrible scenarios of failed rescues raced through his mind.

“Neither are we,” Amanda said.

“My dad’s out there,” Josh said. “You said those things feed at night. It’s almost night right now. All those people—it could have been any of us!”

“There might be a way,” Alan said, looking at the map and describing some ideas that had been forming in his mind.

“Okay,” Amanda said. “New plan . . .”

Trapped within the tram, the Pteranodon with lightning markings struck the same spot on the transparent wall over and over. Slowly, finally, a tiny crack appeared. The longer and harder he hit it, the more hairline fissures stole out from the central point of impact.

Soon he would be free.

CHAPTER 16

Eric felt the pressure of Josh’s gaze as the group prepared for what was ahead. Josh expected so much from him—but what could Eric do?

“Josh, listen,” Eric said. “I know you had a lot of ideas in your head about me from reading my book, but you have to understand—I didn’t do what I did on Isla Sorna because I wanted to be a hero. I wrote the book because I had to get this stuff out of my head. I was having nightmares like every night. And so many people had questions. That’s why I did it. But I’m not—”

“You don’t have to say anything else,” Josh said. “I already figured out you’re nothing special.”

Anger sliced through Eric. “Fine. Just remember that you were here for those three summers straight, which means you know more about this place than most of us. That puts the responsibility on you.”

“Right,” Josh said. He turned away from Eric and went back to the park manuals.

Eric sat in a corner and watched the others.

“I’m coming with you,” Manly said as Alan snapped on a pager set to vibrate.

Alan stared at him with contempt. “Give me one reason I should trust you.”

Manly’s smile was thin. “I’m a coward. I want to live. And I don’t think that’s going to happen if there’s no one out there watching your back.”

“That’s two reasons. Fine. But the camera stays here.”

The reporter hesitated, then agreed. Alan looked at the three who would be staying behind.

“You’re sure you know what to do?” he asked.

“Between the three of us, we’ll manage,” Amanda said, nodding at Josh and Eric.

The time came for Alan and Manly to leave. Manly looked over at his camera. “Just one thing before we head out.”

He turned the camera around, aimed it toward the floor, and stripped off the flannel shirt Alan had let him borrow. He lay down on the floor. “Josh, buddy, see if I’m in frame.”

Josh checked. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Manly said. “So here it is. My ‘just in case.’ My parting gift to humanity.”

He began a complicated series of sit-ups and other exercises. “People, what you’re looking at is the perfect ab crunch. It’s taken me a lifetime to get this down, but look at the results. And I’ve never been to a chiropractor or a back doctor in my life. Now the secret’s yours.”

Grinning, he got up and turned off the camera. He aimed it toward Josh. “Got anything you want to say?”

“Who’d want to hear it?” Josh asked.

Manly waited.

“No, nothing,” Josh said, hanging his head. “I don’t have anything to say for myself.”

Manly looked at Alan, who shook his head and said it was time to go.

Eric knew he might never see his mentor again. The same thought seemed to flicker before Alan, at least for a moment. Then he frowned.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Alan said.

Eric’s gaze narrowed. “Look who’s talking.”

Alan nodded sharply and went to the door. He opened it slowly, peered out, and slipped into the corridor with Manly right behind him. The moment the door closed, Amanda locked it up tight.

They were gone—and the power of that thought made Eric feel as if the breath had been taken from him.

“That’s funny,” Amanda said.

“What?” Eric asked.

“The medical supplies. I could have sworn there were more here.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, I guess.”

Eric thought about Manly and the way he left. Something didn’t feel right. Something just didn’t add up.

If only he could figure out what it was . . .

Alan and Manly found spray paint canisters in a storage closet. Before heading out, they sprayed their clothing and as much of their exposed flesh as they could a very dark green. The flyers’ sight appeared to be highly advanced, and they needed to blend with the shadows as best they could.

They took a side door that put them close to the building housing the Earthquake attraction and clung to the shadows as they silently made their way down the boardwalk to a shack overhanging the lagoon. The flyers were cawing louder than ever as stars appeared high above and a chill wind stirred the water of the lagoon. People wept and shouted. The boats rocked as the flyers leaped from one to another.

“I still can’t figure out your angle,” Alan whispered. “Why stick your neck out?”

“You know what your problem is, Grant? You need to learn how to use the media, not let it use you.”

“Oh? Did Bigfoot supply that bit of advice?”

“Whatever.”

They reached the shack but the door was locked.

“Not a problem,” Manly said, fishing something out of his pocket. “I did a piece for the
Evening Star
when I was still local, up in Toronto. Housebreakers, the tricks of the trade, how to guard against them.”

The reporter picked the lock with a thin, sharp tool. Alan looked around nervously. It was a miracle they hadn’t been spotted. The flyers were agitated about something. Alan could feel their tension.
Good. Maybe the plan will work after all.

Manly continued picking the lock. “My father once told me, ‘Expect the worst from everyone and you won’t be disappointed.’ Well, that’s no way to live your life.”

“I dunno,” Alan said. “Sounds reasonable to me.”

“Exactly my point.”

The lock sprang open and they darted inside.

Flapping his wings, the adult male Pteranodon with the fiery markings landed on the largest of the boats in the lagoon. The time had come and they were starved. His mate, Flood; her father, the Elder; and their children Spike and Trip called to him. Their need to feed was strong.

But where was his son Lightning? Fire had circled this place of the Keepers several times and urgently called his son, but the young Pteranodon had not appeared. Where was he? Lightning had never before ignored his father’s urgent summons.

Had he been hurt? Had the Keepers harmed another of his children? Or was it something worse?

The waiting had been unbearable. Slowly, Fire watched the sky darken and the bright stars appear. Then came the low golden glow from the constructs of the Keepers, which lit their feasting ground.

A few more moments. No longer. Then—

Cawwrrr!

The sound made Fire’s heart leap. He looked up and saw Lightning flying toward him. There was such relief and frustration in his son’s tone that Fire was altogether convinced his son had been trapped somewhere, either by accident or design, and he had used his clever nature to claw his way to freedom.

Fire then screeched louder than ever before, signaling his family that the feast could finally begin.