“Mark! Focus, man!” My friend Isaac hissed in my ear. I blinked twice and stared down my rifle at the white rhino in the distance. The rhino’s brain was small, so the safe shot was the lungs. I breathed in and slowly let out my breath as I pulled the trigger. The bullet pierced the rhino. There was no loud cry of agony from the beast, but it danced in circles, going round and round a few times before changing in our general direction. I aimed and fired where its brain should be. I felt a surge of satisfaction when it stumbled and fell on its side, dead.

Isaac whooped and hollered excitedly. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.” He clapped me on the shoulder. We hauled the rhino back to camp, where Isaac and I posed with it for our hunting picture before they began butchering it.

Isaac and I were third-generation real estate titans. My family ran luxury resorts and the Inns and Isaac's family built corporate offices and suburban housing. Once a year, Isaac and I would take a week to go on a hunting trip. Our hunts took us all over the world.

At the end of every hunt, our master chefs waited to cook our quarry. Tonight, we were having Rhino and Impala. Last year we had Giraffe. I was apprehensive about eating giraffes since I heard the meat would be gamy. But Alejandro, my chef, did a magnificent job. The meat was tender and juicy. This trip's meal was no different. The Rhino reminded me of venison, and the Impala was very juicy but tough meat.

Isaac shot the Impala. That meant he kept going on and on about how this sumptuous meal was thanks to him. I reminded him that I shot the Rhino he was scarfing down like a pig. We went back and forth in good humor. Isaac and I had been friends since kindergarten. I was an awkward kid, and he sat next to me and asked if I wanted to play marbles. We’ve been thick as thieves ever since.

Isaac leaned back in his chair and raised his wineglass to me in a salute. “I admit it, you chose a great hunt. But next year is my turn and you're going to lose your shit when you find out where we’re going.”

Intriguing. “So then, where are we going?”

He smirked, tsking. “No, no, that’s a surprise. Next year meet me in Puntarenas Costa Rica.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What are we going to hunt for, Caimans? We ate alligators in Louisiana. I doubt they taste all that different.” 

Isaac laughed and shook his head. “Look, just be there and you’ll see.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Fine, I’ll see you then, but you had better make this interesting for me.”

He clinked his glass against mine. “Trust me, it’ll be an experience you’ll never forget.”

1 year later

Puntarenas, Costa Rica

One year to the day, I flew down from Chicago to this quaint little cafe to wait for Isaac. I received an email from him a few weeks ago telling me where and when to meet him. The bastard was late. I checked my watch for the fifth time, wondering where he was. I hated central America. I didn’t have a problem with the people, but I’m from Chicago. I love cool breezes and snow days. All this damn heat made me uncomfortable and irritable. I hated Africa for similar reasons. My favorite hunt with Isaac was in Canada. I chose the location. I chose the last time too. But I chose Africa because I knew he’d enjoy it.

It would have been nice if he was as considerate. If he didn’t show up, soon I was going to kick his ass.

“Hey sorry I’m late.” I turned to look behind me. Isaac was jogging over, flushed, and sweaty. He plopped down in the seat across from me. “I know I’m late. I'm sorry, bud. It took me longer than I thought to get everything ready.”

I sighed and down my sixth cup of ice water. “Fine, fine. Where are we going?”

He chuckled. “So impatient. Well, you have been in suspense for an entire year. All right, we’re going to Isla Sorna.” He set a map down on the table. On it, he circled a large island on an island chain called Los Cinco Muertes.

“WOAH! hold on there, are you talking about that Island from the San Diego incident?”.

He rolled his eyes. “Jeez, calm down, will you? It’s not that bad. Look, I got us a guide and porters. I have already set our camp up on the island. We’ll be safe, okay? I and you are going to hunt Triceratops. It’ll be like hunting a Rhino and an Elephant in one package.” He set a picture of a triceratops on the table. I lifted it and noted the time stamp was a week ago. So, he had already scouted the place out. At least he was taking it seriously.

I could pretend that this didn’t make any difference to me. I could act as if I wasn’t excited to find out what the experience would be like and what it would taste like. I would not lie to myself or him. It excited me; I was all but vibrating in my chair.

“Alright, so when do we leave?”

“Right now. Come on.”

Isaac hired a car to take us to the Juan Santamaria International Airport in San Jose. From there we took a private plane to Isla Sorna. When we reached the island, I all but plastered my face to the window as dinosaurs moved about below us. I remember reading about dinosaurs when I was a kid. I never dreamed I’d ever see them in person. They always seemed so big and unreal, almost. I once remember thinking, could such enormous creatures truly have lived. And there they are, alive and living.

The plane landed on an airstrip that looked like they had made it in a hurry. A jeep was waiting for us when we landed. Our guide, a man named Diego, drove us to our camp. The camp was a series of huts set up in a circle surrounded by electric fencing.

We drove through a gate in the fencing and parked next to the huts. I hopped down from the back of the jeep and looked around the place.

“Isaac, how does this place have power?” I asked him.

“That old guy on TV, Hammond. When he built that theme park, he built a facility on this island too, and from some of my sources, he built facilities on other islands. He might have been old, but he was smart. This place runs on Geothermal energy. It never runs out. I had my guys tap into the power source. We’ll be safe here.”

I couldn’t lie. I felt much safer hearing the hum of electricity surging through those wires. He took me to his tent, where he showed me our weapons. A pair of 375 H&H mag rifles lay before me. Classic double barrel elephant guns. The shells were solid bronze to give us max penetration.

Isaac handed me a folder when I had finished admiring our weapons. Inside the folder were several papers on Triceratops' anatomy.

“Where did you find these?” I asked, flipping through the pages.

“It wasn’t easy. Ingen gave the US government a list of the Dinosaurs they cloned.  But it cost me a small fortune to get my hand on their research notes.” Isaac said. “And that’s not all come to check this out.” He all but pulled me out of the tent and took me to the other side of the camp where I saw a Caterpillar bulldozer and a twenty by ten flatbed truck.

“How the hell did you organize all this in one year?” I asked him.

“I’ve been planning this for three years.” He said smugly. “Ever since the San Diego incident, I’ve been thinking about hunting dinosaurs. Remember when we were kids and would go on exotic safaris hunting dinosaurs and monsters. I think we even hunted aliens once.”

I laughed and shook my head. “Yeah, we had a wild imagination.”

“And now we can hunt and eat some real dinosaurs,” He said, gesturing to the camp behind us.  

I inspected our setup. “I’ll admit it this is incredible.” We bumped fists.

“Let’s hunt some dinosaurs.”