Jurassic Park<sup>TM</sup> III Novelization
CONTENTS
A NOTE TO PARENTS
:
This book is appropriate for ages 8 and up.
The Jurassic Park films are rated PG-13.
Consult
www.filmratings.com
for further information.
Special thanks to Cindy Chang of Universal Studios, and to Alice Alfonsi, Jason Zamajtuk, Cathy Goldsmith, Lisa Findlay, Mike Wortzman, Artie Bennett, Christopher Shea, Jenny Golub, and Stephanie Finnegan of Random House for their work on this book.
PROLOGUE
T
HIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD
E
RIC
K
IRBY
hung high in the sky. Below him, his running shoes dangled over brilliant blue waves. Above him, a colorful parasail fluttered like a giant wing.
“This is so awesome!” Eric shouted as the wind rustled his thick brown hair and whipped through his loose red shirt. “We’re going to see dinosaurs!”
Strapped beside Eric in the two-person harness, Ben Hildebrand raised his camcorder. “And we’ll be able to prove it!”
Whooping with laughter, Eric took in the lush tropical coastline of Isla Sorna, 120 miles west of Costa Rica. Several years ago, genetic engineers had brought dinosaurs back to life here, hoping to create a sort of dinosaur zoo.
But Jurassic Park had never opened to the public. A number of accidental deaths had spooked the owners, and Costa Rican and United Nations authorities had declared both Isla Sorna and its companion island, Isla Nublar, a no-flying, no-boating zone.
Of course, Enrique, the driver of the Dino-Soar speedboat now towing them, didn’t care about that. And neither did Eric. This was his chance to finally see
live
dinosaurs, and he was taking it!
Turning his head, Eric smiled at the man who was treating him to this adventure—Ben Hildebrand.
Ben was kind of old, at least thirty, but he was pretty cool despite that. The two of them had done a lot of exciting things together since Ben had started seeing Eric’s mom—and, hey, ever since Eric’s mom and dad had separated, he’d take whatever attention he could get.
Ben was an extreme-sports sort of dude, which meant he was the complete opposite of Eric’s father. And that, Eric had pretty much guessed, was one of the big reasons why his mom and dad had separated. His dad had just gotten boring or something to his mom.
But Eric didn’t want to think about that stuff. Not today.
The riskier the better!
was Ben’s motto, and Eric loved that sort of thinking. Of course, he loved his dad, too, but his supercautious father was the
last
person who’d try something as dangerous as this!
And maybe Ben was right when he said:
What does risk matter when you can live a dream come true?
Suddenly, Eric felt a sharp tug on the towline securing them to the speedboat below.
“Whoa!” Ben yelled.
Looking down, Eric saw that the Dino-Soar tour boat had disappeared into a low bank of fog. When it emerged, there was no sign of their driver. But there was one thing they
could
see, one horrifying sight: The deck was splattered with blood!
“Ben!” Eric called.
Ben stared, gape-mouthed.
Below them, the boat was heading north, into the open ocean—and the nearest shore was a thousand miles away!
“I’m going to unclip us!” Ben called, then frantically unfastened the lines securing them to the driverless boat.
As the parasailers floated upward, a strong wind sent them wafting over the daunting cliffs of Isla Sorna.
Eric felt a terrible chill.
He was going to see dinosaurs.
Live
dinosaurs.
Only—it was no longer a dream come true.
It had just become a nightmare.
CHAPTER 1
G
RRRR-AHHRRRRRR
!
A spike-backed Ankylosaurus smashed against the flank of a long-necked dinosaur in a suburban backyard. Plastic clicked and scraped against plastic as the child who owned the toys roared ferociously.
Dr. Alan Grant squatted next to three-year-old Charlie, watching with great delight as the little boy played in his sandbox. Ellie Satler’s pretty face smiled down at the two. She held an infant in her slender arms. The group looked like a perfect family.
“Actually, Charlie, those two are herbivores,” Alan said, squinting in the harsh late afternoon sunlight. “They eat plants. They wouldn’t be interested in fighting each other. But these—”
The paleontologist picked up a plastic Tyrannosaurus rex and a Carnotaurus. “See, Charlie,
these
are carnivores,” he said. “They eat meat. This one here—see its claws—this one here uses its claws to gouge out the throat of its opponent.”
Alan demonstrated with some grunts and groans of his own. Charlie’s eyes went wide with fright.
“Uh, Alan?” Ellie said.
“Hmm?” Alan said.
“He’s
three,”
Ellie reminded him. “Why don’t you wait till he’s five?”
“Oh, right,” Alan said. He made the dinosaurs do a little dance along the edge of the sandbox. “Happy dinosaurs!”
Alan heard a car engine turn off and a door slam.
“That must be Mark,” Ellie said. She turned and called out, “Mark, we’re back here!”
Alan and Ellie turned to see Mark Degler come through the gate carrying a briefcase. He appeared handsome and friendly, and his suit looked as if it cost more than Alan made in an entire month.
Mark and Ellie kissed tenderly on the lips.
Alan tensed.
“Good day at the State Department?” Ellie asked.
“Keeping the world safe,” Mark said. He gestured to the baby. “Here, let me take him.”
Ellie gently handed him the baby. “Mark, this is Alan Grant.”
“Nice to meet you, Alan,” Mark said. He cradled the baby against him with one hand and held out his other hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Alan shook the outstretched hand. He felt like an outsider. There had been a time when he belonged here, in Ellie’s life. But that time was past.
“Daddy, this is a herbabore,” Charlie said, holding up a toy dinosaur. “And that’s the dinosaur man.”
Alan smiled uncomfortably.
After dinner, Ellie walked Alan to his rented car. Night had fallen and Mark was putting Charlie to sleep.
“You didn’t talk shop much,” Ellie said. “That’s not like you.”
Alan shrugged. “Mark didn’t seem like the type to be interested in scientific theories and fund-raising tours.”
“Well, I am,” she said. “What’s been happening?”
They stopped by his car and leaned against the doors.
“Raising money was never easy,” Alan said. “But before Jurassic Park became worldwide news, you could at least find it. Somewhere. Now fossils are out. Everyone wants to see real live dinosaurs.”
Ellie nodded.
“I’ve found raptor remains at my new site,” said Alan. “I have a theory that the key to their social intelligence, the way they can work together as a team, lies in their ability to talk to each other.”
Ellie shuddered. “You mean those sounds they made.”
“Given a chance, I’m certain I can prove my theory that the raptor might have been capable of birdlike vocalizations,” Alan said. He pushed away from the door and got inside. “Given a chance . . .”
He rolled down the window and Ellie crouched beside it.
“Times change, Alan,” Ellie said. “But you’re still the best. I mean that.”
“The last of my breed.” Alan looked away. “I’d better get going.”
“Let me know if I can help, Alan,” Ellie said. “You’re bad about asking for help, but
please ask me.
Anything, anytime.”
Alan nodded reassuringly as he turned the key in the ignition. He didn’t want Ellie to worry about him. Ellie was happy with the life she had chosen. Maybe if things had been different, if
he
had been different, he might have been the one to share that life with her.
But he hadn’t been ready to make that commitment, and he still wasn’t. Not to her, not to anyone. Not when there was so much work to be done.
Paleontology, the focus of his entire life, stood on the brink of extinction. Many believed that all dinosaur scientists had to do now was travel to Isla Sorna or Isla Nublar—the two Jurassic Park sites—and study the living dinosaurs there. But Alan knew different.
Dinosaurs,
true
dinosaurs, lived 65 million years ago. The answers to how they lived were in the fossil record—
not
in the genetically engineered theme-park monsters that John Hammond and InGen had created for profit.
Alan was one of the few scientists still dedicated to keeping the study of fossils from perishing. His career
had
to come first.
Ellie touched his hand. “When I met you, I thought that millions of years ago, all the dinosaurs became extinct. Wiped out. But you told me otherwise. When conditions changed, dinosaurs became other things. They evolved.”
“A well-accepted theory,” Alan said.
Ellie stared at him for a long moment. He could feel the love they would always share.
“Alan,” she said with a seriousness he hadn’t expected, “don’t be afraid to evolve.”
***
The next morning, Alan arrived at the excavation base camp in Fort Peck Lake, Montana. He found Billy Brennan, an associate professor and site manager, working his charm on Cheryl. She was one of a dozen college students at the site.
“Dr. Grant!” Billy said as he quickly moved away from Cheryl and took one of the heavy bags Alan carried. Another was slung over Alan’s shoulder.
“How was your trip?” Billy asked. “Did you get the funding we need to keep the site going?”
Alan shook his head. “We’ll be broke in four weeks.”
“Three weeks,” Billy said cheerfully. “I had to rent some equipment.”
They left the glaring sun behind and entered one of the many tents making up the camp. The new equipment Billy had mentioned was on a nearby table. Alan frowned as he took in the dusty Macintosh feeding information to a squat mechanism the size of a small refrigerator. An arm stuck out from the machine and swept back and forth across a block of resinlike material.
“Meet the future of paleontology,” said Billy.
“Oh, yeah? Can it dig?” asked Alan. He hated technology.
“It’s a rapid prototyper,” Billy said with patience. “I feed in the scan data from the raptor skull; the computer breaks it into thousands of slices; and this thing sculpts it, one layer at a time.”
The machine’s arm stopped suddenly. Billy lifted a hinged top cover, reached inside, and carefully broke loose a hollowed-out object the size of a man’s fist. Shaking out the remaining dust, he raised the object into the afternoon light as if it were the Holy Grail.
“I give you the resonating chamber of a Velociraptor!” Billy said proudly.
“Don’t you mean the
computer-simulated
resonating chamber of a Velociraptor?” Alan corrected.
“Whatever! Okay, now listen to this.” Billy put the chamber to his lips and blew through it as if it were a conch shell.
Hrrrr-reeeeee!
The sound it made was unique and piercing, the cry of an ancient animal. A nearby flock of birds immediately leaped into frightened flight.
A shudder of memory sliced through Alan. The last time he’d heard that call was eight years ago on Jurassic Park. He’d almost been ripped to shreds by raptors.
Shrugging off the memory, Alan focused instead on his talented student. Billy continued to blow into the chamber, changing the pitch and trying different types of calls.
“This is brilliant, Billy,” said Alan, truly amazed at the feat. “But I’m afraid it’s a little late.”
Looking past Alan, Billy noticed some activity beyond the tent. A Cadillac SUV had pulled up and a couple was getting out.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” said Billy, watching Cheryl point the man and woman toward the tent. “Some amateurs wanted to come by and talk with you. I told them you’d be happy to chat with them.”
Alan’s good mood faded. “Absolutely not. We have little enough time as it is.”
“Too late,” Billy said.
“What?” Alan looked over and saw the newcomers.
“Dr. Grant?” the man asked, approaching him.
“Yes?”
“Paul Kirby. Kirby Enterprises.” Paul reached into his breast pocket and produced an impressive business card.
Alan placed the resonating chamber in his pack—he’d examine it more closely later. Then he took Paul Kirby’s card and looked it over. The card told him almost nothing—except that money had been spent on it.
“And this is my wife, Amanda,” Paul said.
Amanda shook Alan’s hand and smiled. She looked tired.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Kirby?” asked Alan tightly.
“Well, sir, I am a great admirer of yours and have an
extremely
interesting proposition to discuss. Would you let my wife and me take you to dinner? Our treat.”
“Maybe some other time,” said Alan.
“I guarantee it’ll be worth your while,” insisted Paul.
Behind him, Billy rubbed his thumb and index finger together to indicate that these people were
rich.
Growling inwardly, Alan mustered a weak smile. “It’d be my pleasure.”
An hour later, Alan and Billy were ordering dinner at a local bar and grill. Paul and Amanda sat across the table.
“Amanda and I, well, we just love the outdoors,” Paul said. “We love adventure. Galápagos, K2, the Nile. You name it, we’ve done it.”
“We even have two seats reserved aboard the first commercial moon flight,” Amanda proudly added.
“Hmmm,” grunted Alan, far from impressed.
“Now, for our wedding anniversary this year, we want to do something really special, something once-in-a-lifetime,” Paul said. “So we’ve arranged for a private airplane to fly us over Isla Sorna. And we want you to be our guide.”
Alan winced. The Kirbys were looking at him as if they had just offered him an amazing gift.
He sighed. “I’m sorry, but there’s no force on Earth or in heaven that could get me anywhere near InGen’s creations again. I can give you a list of
other
paleontologists you might call.”
“But you’re the best,” Paul said insistently. “You’ve seen these animals in the flesh. No one can come close to you.”
Alan sighed. Paul was a talkative, cheerful fellow who seemed to have no “off” switch. Alan knew the type. Unfortunately, Paul’s species was in no danger of extinction.
“No,” Alan said. “Besides, with the air restrictions after that T. rex incident in San Diego four years ago, you can’t fly low enough to see anything of interest.”
Paul frowned. He was clearly not used to people saying no.
“We have
permission
to fly low,” Amanda said.
“How low?” Billy asked.
“Well, I’m no expert on flying,” Paul said. “But I do know it’s a lot lower than anyone else.”
“We can fly as low as we want,” Amanda said. “Paul’s made some connections through his business. Especially in the Costa Rican government.”
Paul pulled out his checkbook. “I’m prepared to make a sizable contribution to your research, Dr. Grant.”
Billy’s eyes widened, urging Alan:
Don’t say no!
“I can write all kinds of numbers on this check,” Paul said with a smile. “Just tell me what, exactly, it would take.”
Alan looked away.
How could it have come down to a choice like this?
He had vowed never to return to that area. But if he didn’t, then his dig would end before he proved his theory. He was so close, too. So close to showing why paleontologists were still needed, even in this new world of “living dinosaurs.”
I’m out of money,
realized Alan.
And out of options.
