They were ancient relics. Ancient by today’s standards. Early nineties Jeeps. Night vision. Infrared scopes. Weapons. Pre-regulation tasers with spring-locked triggers. All sitting there in an abandoned wasteland. Guarded by the most sophisticated security systems. Surrounded by ocean on all sides. A day’s ride by boat with the throttle at full tilt. And once you got the stuff, you had to get it back.
“I’ll give you this figure,” said the Barron. He laid down his proposal on a cocktail napkin as we sat in his club on the Dubai strip. I unfurled the paper and nodded with approval at the number.
“But I want the software too,” he said.
“Hard drives?” I asked. “It’s pretty old stuff. A lot of floppy disks. None of the work is backed up on any cloud. We’re talking pre-internet technology.”
He leaned closer, whispering despite the thumping music.
“There is information on those machines that is invaluable. As you say, pre-internet. It has sat dormant on that island for thirty years. The very fabric of life is answered in the saved files of those systems. In the office inside the main control centre rests a machine. The doctor told me himself before he passed. I don’t know which one it is. Just bring me all of them,” the Barron requested.
I looked over the figure again and shook his hand without further discussion.
On the boat out of the harbour, I read over the inventory and estimated the haul to be smaller than expected, given the limited onboard storage. I then consulted the map, which hadn’t been updated since 1994. George, my 2IC, sat beside me.
“We cut a bee-line directly up that path, and we should hit the tracks that run along the enclosures. Those will take us directly to the visitor centre. From there, we just have to look for the main control,” I said.
“If we don’t get our heads ripped off in the meantime,” he said, tongue in cheek.
“Hey, no one said this was going to be a walk in the park.”
“But a walk with dinosaurs.”
“No one put a gun to your head,” I snapped, patience waning.
“Relax, I’m just busting balls,” he sighed. “What are we bringing back first?”
“Start with the heavy stuff. There are four of us. Two will carry the hard drives, one each, while the other two escort them back to the port. Then we go back for the rest. Once that’s done, we take the tasers. They’re pre-regulation and are the hot dollar items. Then, any merch you can find, bag it.”
“Is this the first time someone has looted the place?” George asked.
I shrugged. “It’s been a ghost town for thirty years, George. How should I know?”
“No one has lived to tell,” said one of the Barron’s men from the bridge. He came down to join us.
“You’re Sergo, right?” I asked. We hadn’t formally introduced. He nodded. He was dressed in mercenary Kevlar, armed with a weapon in every crevice that could hold one. He was well built. The Barron’s personal security, on secondment.
“Listen to me, cowgirl,” he said, with a sternness that matched his frame. “I don’t want Nadine and me on this island longer than six hours. Tops. The risks are already too great. A minute past that, and if you’re not onboard this boat, we leave without you. Understand?”
I felt patronized, but I didn’t have much choice.
“You’re here to provide security… an escort,” I reminded him. “Your boss wants the hard drives from inside the control centre. We don’t know how long it’ll take to find them,” I explained.
“Six hours. Your time starts when the boat touches the port,” he said. “I’m not dying for some chick I just met. Boss or no boss,” he said as he turned his back.
Our feet hit the sand at 0700. I’d had maybe twenty-eight minutes of sleep before the announcement of landfall. The sound of our boat was masked by the crashing waves. We anchored and made for the shrubs that marked the remains of the old theme park’s fencing.
Sergo, armed with a machete, carved a path, and we fell in behind him, our de facto leader.
The excitement of the island wasn’t lost on us. We took every moment to scan our surroundings, searching for evidence of the island’s inhabitants. We knew our chances of returning to this place in our lifetimes were slim. Still, we didn’t want to become permanent residents either.
Thirty minutes into our trek through the jungle, no signs of the prehistoric beasts. A welcome relief by the time we reached the enclosure fences. We saw the symbols of their destructive habits. The fencing to the raptor enclosure was torn to shreds. The morning sun beamed down from above, revealing the damage the now rusted fence had sustained trying to keep the beasts inside.
“Vicious,” said George as we moved along the fence toward the visitor centre.
Then a click and a rustle.
“Shh,” Sergo said, halting us.
“We’re being followed.”
“Another boat?” George asked.
Nadine, George’s offsider, flicked the safety off her weapon.
“Silence,” Sergo hissed.
Another click. The jungle was alive.
Sergo bolted into a sprint. I was momentarily caught off guard, then realized I had to follow. I ran as fast and as hard as I could. My lungs burned, but fear drove me.
I didn’t know if George was keeping up.
“George, run!” I shouted between gasps. Nothing.
I kept Sergo in my sights. He was fast. Must have trained like this every day. As long as I could see him, I had a chance.
The jungle roared behind me. I heard the rumbles of whatever pursued us.
“Sergo!” I yelled. He didn’t stop or slow. No hesitation in his stride.
I found a new burst of energy, though I knew it wouldn’t last. I lifted my legs and pushed harder.
“Don’t stop,” I told myself.
The visitor centre neared. Fifty metres.
Run. Don’t slow down.
Sergo reached the fire escape first. The old logo was rusted and weather-worn. He kicked it open and ran inside, trying to slam it shut.
“Sergo! Bastard!” I yelled.
The door slammed just as I arrived. Out of breath, lungs heaving. I had no strength left to kick or scream for him to open up.
I turned. The jungle loomed. No sign of George or Nadine. Swallowed by the island.
All was quiet, except for the insects.
A distant roar. Something large.
I looked left, then right.
Nothing recognisable.
No way back to the boat.
Left to die on an island of dinosaurs who already had a taste for prey.
The door behind me unlatched.
I turned to push it open, and Sergo barreled out, now running the opposite direction.
I fell, obscured by the swinging door, hidden from the beast that latched onto him with eight-inch claws. It tore through him from behind. He didn’t have time to scream.
Thankfully, I didn’t have the breath to do the same.
I waited behind the door until the beast finished its meal.
Now there was only one.
I had to get back to the boat. Somehow.
From there, I’d have to drive it the eight hours to the nearest mainland.
In my mind, anything was possible with the will to survive.
Still, fear gripped me like a vice.
I had eight hours of sunlight.
Time to move.