(Mark)

We survived the night. When the morning sun woke from my restless sleep, I took a moment to stretch and work out the kinks in my neck. I stepped out of my tent to find Diego and Isaac already up.

"Did any of the other come back?" I asked.

They both shook their head. The mood in the estimated camp was sullen. A heavy fog of depression settled over us. This was to be a grand adventure. Hunt a dinosaur or two, eat the exotic meat of animals gone for millions of years, then go home to our lovely wives and get on with the day-to-day.

Instead, a monster from the deepest pit of hell stormed through our camp. Our party fled into the jungle to die horrible deaths and our means of communicating with the mainland was destroyed. In summary, we were fucked.

"Señores. We need to leave this place. The perimeter is breached and indefensible. We need to find another place to wait for rescue." Diego was already walking with purpose towards the dozer.

I looked at Isaac, who shrugged and followed him, rifle in hand. We hired the man to be our guide. At least he seemed sure of where we should go. Isaac and I followed him into the jungle for the better part of an hour. We stopped long enough for our guide to climb a tree and try to get his bearings.

"I saw the top of a radio tower over on the plateau." He told us when he had climbed down.

We followed him on an old service road that ran up the cliff face and several switchbacks. We reached the plateau; I felt my heart plummet. The radio tower was connected to an old run-down building. It had once served as the means of contacting the mainland. Surrounding the perimeter where the remains of a chain-link fence. The chain links were rusted with several breaches in the fence. One could hardly call it a fence.

We approached the building, rifles at the ready. Diego tried the door. It was unlocked and opened after a good tug. The inside was foul. The stench of mold and mildew wafted out offending our senses. We staggered back and waited several minutes, letting fresh air in.

We fished out a couple of flashlights and scanned the interior when the smell had lessened. The inside was spacious. Along one wall was a row of terminals. The monitors were dark and covered with a thick layer of dust. Peering down the beam of my flashlight, every surface was covered in a thick layer of dust. I could see part of the walls and floor where the jungle had pushed its way inside.

In the center of the roof were mold-covered sofas surrounding a rotted coffee table. I watched Diego disappear into what looked like a server room. Isaac searched the living quarters. It was a narrow room with a pair of bunk beds that had collapsed and were now unusable. Decayed dressers held the insect-eaten remains of what must have been spare uniforms for the radio operators.

A sudden moan followed by several light bulbs exploding above us had us running out of the room. In the main room, feint lights in the ceiling offered little illumination.

Diego came out of the server room, looking at him. “We have power but as you can see, it does us little good. We can stay here, but it’s not very livable. “

“We can change that,” Isaac said. He bumped my shoulder. “Just like our house flipping days.”

I smiled and bumped him back. “Right, let’s get to it. Diego, you get to the roof and stand guard while we get to work. We’ll rotate guard duty every hour.”

“Si señor Mason.” I watched him run out to find his way to the roof. “Right, let’s get started.”

We spent the next five hours clearing out the inside of the radio station. We started first with the sofas and then the rotten furniture. A quick search revealed a supply closet with a pair of brooms in good shape. We swept away the broken glass and debris from the building. Most of the other supplies in the supply closet were no good anymore. That meant no mopping. A shame, but it wasn’t like we were going to sell this place.

By the time the sun sank beneath the horizon, the building was mostly livable. Next on the agenda was to reinforce the perimeter. None of us had any confidence that the building would protect us from the larger dinosaurs.

That night we ate a light dinner or granola bars before zipping up in our sleeping bags. Sleep was fitful as the alien sounds of the jungle beyond the walls kept disturbing our sleep, or at least mine. In the night, I could have sworn I heard human screams crying out for help in Spanish. It could have been, but there was nothing I could do, so I tried to put it out of my mind. After some restless hours of tossing and turning, I could finally drift off to sleep.

The next morning, we were up early and working. Luckily, INGEN kept a supply shed behind the building. Because of either the superior quality of the tools or the shed, most of the items we found inside were still usable. Uprooted the old metal posts for the chain-link fence and using a post hole make dug new holes that we set stakes in. We made the stakes from fallen logs and wooden posts that were still in good shape. We used hatchets to sharpen one end of them. Isaac and I got up a section when Diego suggested using the barbed wire on the roof of the building to wrap it around the posts. It was a good idea. After a quick break, we got to work wrapping lengths of barbed wire around the posts below the sharpened points.

Two days we spent driving the spikes into the ground and winding barbwire around the stakes. We used the old iron fence posts to reinforce the gate we made. By the end of the fifth day, we had a somewhat defensible perimeter, a decent shelter. Now we just needed more food. Isaac had a solution for that.

“Look here.” He said, pointing to a map of the island. “I got this along with the research notes. The island has several facilities and one of them is a compound with a worker village. The staff here cleared out before Hurricane Clarissa wiped out the facilities and freed the dinosaurs. That’s the official story at any rate.”

“You think there might be food?” I asked him while I examined the map.

“Of course. They would have had to store canned foods. All island facilities store canned foods. There is no telling when they’ll get fresh supplies and most canned goods stay good for decades. I’m telling you they’ll have food there.”

I looked at Diego. “Can you find the facility with this map?”

He stared at the map, then nodded his head. “Si. Mira. We’re here,” he pointed to a spot on the map. “We can follow the service road to the facility.”

I looked between the men and shrugged. Let’s go then.

Isla Sorna, Costa Rica

Site B Facility

(Mark)

The insufferable jungle closed in around us, cloying and hot. The trees overhead blocked nearly all the sunlight. As we walked, I heard rustling in the bushes, followed by bird calls. I hoped it was just birds. I glanced about in worry, but Diego seemed to be calm, so I trusted his judgment.

“It should be just down this road here,” Diego said after an hour of walking. “Right past this guardhouse.” I looked past him and saw a concrete structure and a tilting steel road barrier. It looked like a guardhouse. However, it was in so much disrepair and overgrown with vines, it was hard to tell for sure. Pretty soon, we came to a second guardhouse. I suggested we check it for anything useful.

To my disappointment, it was bare but for an old rolling chair and an old landline with no dial tone. Disheartened, we continued. Gradually, the surrounding foliage became sparser; through gaps in the ferns, I could see wooden outbuildings. They looked like utility structures, perhaps sheds for equipment.

I stopped the other two and suggested we check the sheds for supplies. We opened the first structure and hit the jackpot. Tools and spare parts for repairing gas stoves. Diego said he could rig those for us if we could find propane. The next building had propane, matches, and other flammables.

I debated checking the others. The propane already weighed me down, and we still needed to get the food. It was decided if we needed more, then we’d come and get it. We continued following the road. We rounded a curve and saw the facility spread out below us.

Isaac whistled. “Talk about industrialization.”

I stared, amazed. In the center of the clearing, we saw the flat roof of an enormous building. It covered several acres, stretching away into the distance. It was a large blocky building with a metal roof that had the functional look of a power plant. At the far end of the main building, I saw loading docks and turnarounds for trucks. Over to the right, partially hidden by the foliage, there were a series of small structures that looked like efficiency houses. But from a distance, it was hard to be sure.

Altogether, it had a utilitarian quality that reminded me of an industrial site, or a fabrication plant. As we neared, I noticed the building was of modern design. Lots of concrete and glass, but the jungle had long ago grown up around it.

Two large swinging glass doors at the front of the main building led into a darkened lobby beyond. We stepped into the building runs at the ready. Inside, the air was hot and fetid. The lobby was large but unimpressive. A reception counter directly ahead was once covered with gray fabric, now overgrown with a dark growth. On the wall behind was a row of chrome letters that read “INGEN”, but a tangle of vines obscured the words.

Past the receptionist's desk was a long, dark corridor. We passed a pair of vending machines. Someone had broken one. I considered taking some contents, but there was no telling just how long they had been there. Better not to risk it. Farther along the corridor we found the cafeteria.

Upon inspection, the kitchens and pantry indeed had many canned goods. We filled our rucksacks with as much as we could carry. Isaac was utterly smug. His shit-eating grin made me want to slap him. But I couldn’t deny that he saved our asses. He might have gotten us into this mess, but he was at least providing solutions.

For the first time in a few days, I felt like we might make it home. I might just get to see my sweet wife again.