"It was simple," Hammond insisted.
"Then why did it go wrong?"
Dizzy with tension, John Arnold threw open the door to the maintenance shed and stepped into the darkness inside. Jesus, it was black. He should have realized the lights would be out. He felt the cool air, the cavernous dimensions of the space, extending two floors below him. He had to find the catwalk. He had to be careful, or he'd break his neck.
The catwalk.
He groped like a blind man until he realized it was futile. Somehow he had to get light into the shed, He went back to the door and cracked it open four inches. That gave enough light. But there was no way to keep the door open. Quickly he kicked off his shoe and stuck it in the door.
He went toward the catwalk, seeing it easily. He walked along the corrugated metal, hearing the difference in his feet, one loud, one soft. But at least he could see. Up ahead was the stairway leading down to the generators. Another ten yards.
Darkness.
The light was gone.
Arnold looked back to the door, and saw the light was blocked by the body of a velociraptor. The animal bent over, and carefully sniffed the shoe.
Henry Wu paced. He ran his hands over the computer consoles. He touched the screens. He was in constant movement. He was almost frantic witb tension.
He reviewed the steps he would take. He must be quick. The first screen would come up, and he would press-
"Wu!" The radio hissed.
He grabbed for it. "Yes. I'm here."
"Got any bloody power yet?" It was Muldoon. There was something odd about his voice, something hollow.
"No," Wu said. He smiled, glad to know Muldoon was alive.
"I think Arnold made it to the shed," Muldoon said- "After that, I don't know."
"Where are you?" Wu said.
"I'm stuffed."
"What?"
"Stuffed in a bloody pipe," Muldoon said. "And I'm very popular at the moment."
Wedged in a pipe was more like it, Muldoon thought. There had been a stack of drainage pipes piled behind the visitor center, and he'd backed himself into the nearest one, scrambling like a poor bastard. Meter pipes, very tight fit for him, but they couldn't come in after him.
At least, not after he'd shot the leg off one, when the nosy bastard came too close to the pipe. The raptor had gone howling off, and the others were now respectful. His only regret was that he hadn't waited to see the snout at the end of the tube before he'd squeezed the trigger.
But he might still have his chance, because there were three or four outside, snarling and growling around him.
"Yes, very popular," he said into the radio.
Wu said, "Does Arnold have a radio?"
"Don't think so," Muldoon said. "Just sit tight. Wait it out."
He hadn't seen what the other end of the pipe was like-he'd backed in too quickly-and he couldn't see now. He was wedged tight. He could only hope that the far end wasn't open. Christ, he didn't like the thought of one of those bastards taking a bite of his hindquarters.
Arnold backed away down the catwalk. The velociraptor was barely ten feet away, stalking him, coming forward into the gloom. Arnold could hear the click of its deadly claws on the metal.
But he was going slowly. He knew the animal could see well, but the grille of the catwalk, the unfamiliar mechanical odors had made it cautious. That caution was his only chance, Arnold thought. If he could get to the stairs, and then move down to the floor below . . .
Because he was pretty sure velociraptors couldn't climb stairs. Certainly not narrow, steep stairs.
Arnold glanced over his shoulder. The stairs were just a few feet away. Another few steps . . .
He was there! Reaching back, he felt the railing, started scrambling down the almost vertical steps. His feet touched flat concrete. The raptor snarled in frustration, twenty feet above him on the catwalk.
"Too bad, buddy," Arnold said. He turned away. He was now very close to the auxiliary generator. Just a few more steps and he would see it, even in this dim light. . . .
There was a dull thump behind him.
Arnold turned.
The raptor was standing there on the concrete floor, snarling.
It had jumped down.
He looked quickly for a weapon, but suddenly he found he was slammed onto his back on the concrete. Something heavy was pressing on his chest, it was impossible to breathe, and he realized the animal was standing on top of him, and he felt the big claws digging into the flesh of his chest, and smelled the foul breath from the head moving above him, and he opened his mouth to scream.
Ellie held the radio in her hands, listening. Two more Tican workmen had arrived at the lodge; they seemed to know it was safe here. But there had been no others in the last few Minutes. And it sounded quieter outside. Over the radio, Muldoon said, "How long has it been?"
Wu said, "Four, five minutes."
"Arnold should have done it by now," Muldoon said. "If he's going to. You got any ideas?"
"No," Wu said.
"We heard from Gennaro?"
Gennaro pressed the button. "I'm here."
"Where the hell are you?" Muldoon said.
"I'm going to the maintenance building," Gennaro said. "Wish me luck."
Gennaro crouched in the foliage, listening.
Directly ahead he saw the planted pathway, leading toward the visitor center. Gennaro knew the maintenance shed was somewhere to the east. He heard the chirping of birds in the trees. A soft mist was blowing. One of the raptors roared, but it was some distance away. It sounded off to his right. Gennaro set out, leaving the path, plunging into the foliage.
Like to live dangerously?
Not really.
It was true, he didn't. But Gennaro thought he had a plan, or at least a possibility that might work. If he stayed north of the main complex of buildings, he could approach the maintenance shed from the rear. All the raptors were probably around the other buildings, to the south. There was no reason for them to be in the jungle.
At least, he hoped not.
He moved as quietly as he could, unhappily aware he was making a lot of noise. He forced himself to slow his pace, feeling his heart pound. The foliage here was very dense; he couldn't see more than six or seven feet ahead of him. He began to worry that he'd miss the maintenance shed entirely. But then he saw the roof to his right, above the palms.
He moved toward it, went around the side. He found the door, opened it, and slipped inside. It was very dark. He stumbled over something.
A man's shoe.
Gennaro frowned. He propped the door wide open and continued deeper into the building. He saw a catwalk directly ahead of him. Suddenly he realized he didn't know where to go. And he had left his radio behind.
Damn!
There might be a radio somewhere in the maintenance building. Or else he'd just look for the generator. He knew what a generator looked like. Probably it was somewhere down on the lower floor. He found a staircase leading down.
It was darker below, and it was difficult to see anything. He felt his way along among the pipes, holding his bands out to keep from banging his head.
He heard an animal snarl, and froze. He listened, but the sound did not come again. He moved forward cautiously. Something dripped on his shoulder, and his bare arm. It was warm, like water. He touched it in the darkness.
Sticky. He smelled it.
Blood.
He looked up. The raptor was perched on pipes, just a few feet above his head. Blood was trickling from its claws. With an odd sense of detachment, he wondered if it was injured. And then he began to run, but the raptor jumped onto his back, pushing him to the ground.
Gennaro was strong; he heaved up, knocking the raptor away, and rolled off across the concrete. When he turned back, he saw that the raptor had fallen on its side, where it lay panting.
Yes, it was injured. Its leg was hurt, for some reason.
Kill it
Gennaro scrambled to his feet, looking for a weapon. The raptor was still panting on the concrete. He looked frantically for sometbing-anything-to use as a weapon. When he turned back, the raptor was gone.
It snarled, the sound echoing in the darkness.
Gennaro turned in a full circle, feeling with his outstretched hands. And then he felt a sharp pain in his right hand.
Teeth.
It was biting him.
The raptor jerked his head, and Donald Gennaro was yanked off his feet, and he fell.
Lying in bed, soaked in sweat, Malcolm listened as the radio crackled. "Anything?" Muldoon said. "You getting anything?"
"No word," Wu said.
"Hell," Muldoon said,
There was a pause.
Malcolm sighed. "I can't wait," he said, "to hear his new plan."
"What I would like," Muldoon said, "is to get everybody to the lodge and regroup. But I don't see how."
"There's a Jeep in front of the visitor center," Wu said. "If I drove over to you, could you get yourself into it?"
"Maybe. But you'd be abandoning the control room."
"I can't do anything here anyway."
"God knows that's true," Malcolm said. "A control room without electricity is not much of a control room."
"All right," Muldoon said. "Let's try. This isn't looking good."
Lying in his bed, Malcolm said, "No, it's not looking good. It's looking like a disaster."
Wu said, "The raptors are going to follow us over there."
"We're still better off," Malcolm said. "Let's go."