"You're doing very well, Alan. Very well."
Grant's eyes widened once more, though he had witnessed many such sights on this island.
"Now, raise your right hand."
The black Velociraptor stood on the catwalk above the enclosure, barking orders at Alan Grant.
Grant found himself raising his right hand instantly.
"Excellent! Here is your reward!"
The black Raptor rummaged through a metal bucket but pulled out nothing. Then, it plunged its head inside, emerged with a rat clamped in its jaws, and with a violent flick of its neck, tossed the rodent toward Grant.
Grant found his mouth hanging wide open, though not of his own volition. Watching the rat, covered in Raptor saliva, flying toward him, he finally let out a terrified shriek.
"Holy—!"
Grant bolted upright in bed, gasping for air as if he had just cheated death.
It was a dream. Thank God, it was just a dream. It was so...
"What's wrong, Alan?"
That familiar voice rang out again. Grant turned his head stiffly, only to find the same Velociraptor lying in bed right next to him!
"GOD D— AAAGH!"
Grant bolted upright a second time. He whipped his head around frantically to confirm there were no Raptors in sight. Only then did he truly exhale.
Looking out the window, the sky was gradually fading into dusk.
"Sigh."
Grant let out a heavy breath. Ever since he had arrived on this island, these "strange bedfellows" nightmares had been recurring every few days.
Groping around the bedside, he grabbed his phone and saw that the Jurassic World official website had launched the Primeval Ecological Zone page.
Everything seems to be on track, Grant thought silently.
The corporation was surprisingly "humane," providing all staff members with internal accounts to browse all content for free, though they were required to sign an additional non-disclosure agreement. After all, the company intended to milk this for every penny it was worth.
As Grant scrolled through the latest updates, his eyes widened. His expression shifted from shock to a grimace, finally settling on utter disbelief.
"My God..."
Even a man as composed as Grant couldn't help but utter a breathless exclamation.
"Dear Lord..."
Another exclamation of awe came from Lowery, far away in the Control Room.
If paleontologists ever found out that two different species from two entirely different eras could communicate, what would the fallout be? Lowery didn't even want to imagine it.
He didn't dare think about it, mostly because he knew the paleontologists themselves wouldn't dare believe it.
Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.
The sharp sound of high heels approached. As if possessed by the spirit of Spider-Man, Lowery switched his computer screen with lightning speed. He propped his head on one hand, pretending to be buried in his usual tedious workload.
"How are operations in the Primeval Ecological Zone?"
Claire Dearing was nearing the end of her workday and had come to the Main Control Room for one final check on the park's status.
"Over 50 million users have subscribed to the VIP tier. Exclusive pay-per-view videos have already hit 10 million sales," Vivian replied from a console over.
Claire simply nodded, offering no further comment. The Primeval Ecological Zone was the Masrani's project; as long as the boss was happy, she was happy.
Now, she could finally afford to fret over her own problems. For instance...
What kind of man wears board shorts to a date?
She didn't understand it. She even suspected there was nothing underneath them. It was true that Isla Nublar was hot, but surely not "wear board shorts to a public outing" hot?
She was, frankly, appalled.
Unlike the failed date between Owen and Claire, marred by their mutual lack of understanding, the "date" between Carlo and the Ceratosauruses was a resounding success, despite the species gap.
At the very least, Carlo had a blast.
No matter what movement he made, those Ceratosauruses responded. It was the first time he had ever seen such "fun" dinosaurs.
Ceratosaurus One sported the classic "Death Valley" coloration (the same as the individual from Jurassic Park III), with a pale body and black stripes. Ceratosaurus Two followed the same pattern but was distinguished by additional black spots.
This allowed Carlo to tell them apart easily.
He committed their scents to memory and prepared to say goodbye. After all, he had snuck out to play.
Seeing him approach, Ceratosaurus One instinctively clenched its tail, relaxing only when it realized the stranger wasn't heading for its backside.
Carlo gave Ceratosaurus One a gentle nudge with his flank, then did the same to Ceratosaurus Two as a parting gesture. He had considered nuzzling them, but figured that might be a bit too intimate for a first meeting.
As Carlo lumbered away, Ceratosaurus Two finally let out a long breath. Communicating with other species is exhausting.
Ceratosaurus One hissed sharply; the "nudge" from earlier actually hurt a bit. That guy is definitely a heavyweight.
He let out a low growl, questioning Ceratosaurus Two: Are we still hunting today?
Ceratosaurus Two looked at Ceratosaurus One with confusion and grunted back: Of course. Why wouldn't we?
Ceratosaurus One could only reluctantly agree. Today had been far too eventful. The poor Ceratosaurus duo hadn't even realized they'd spent the entire day playing with a "toddler."
…
Carlo didn't return directly to his habitat. Instead, he took a detour to their previous food cache.
Likely because the Compsognathus couldn't reach the meat hanging in the trees, they had picked the Triceratops skull Carlo left on the ground completely clean. However, they hadn't touched the rotting intestines he'd discarded.
That spot had become a kingdom of flies.
Carlo silently condemned the Compy's wasteful behavior and decided to throw those bits further away next time.
He picked up the Triceratops skull in his jaws, planning to wash it in the river before heading back. That way, he could tell his mother he'd spent the day "cleaning his trophy." Hehe, I'm a little genius.
The river water washed away the last traces of debris clinging to the bone. Carlo lifted it, shook it dry, and happily trotted home.
After placing the skull under his favorite tree, Carlo began to appreciate it properly. The lower jaw was missing, either washed away by the river or dropped on the trail, but it didn't matter. There were several small grooves on the crest, likely from when his "father" had chewed on it.
Regardless, this was Carlo's very first trophy!
Once the skull was positioned upright, his playful side took over. He slid his head into the back of the skull, pretending to wear it.
Hehe, I'm a Triceratops.
Carlo tried to stand up and balance the skull on his head, but he failed. The heavy bone flipped forward and landed face-down in the dirt.
Carlo felt a twinge of disappointment. According to the snippets of information in his mind, if he could wear this, he'd be the world's most primitive cosplayer.
Repositioning the skull at a more aesthetic angle, Carlo flopped down in the shade of the tree.
It would be nice to have someone to play with...
Carlo was both lucky and unlucky. He was the only survivor from his clutch. For months, he had been his own only playmate.
But today, he'd made some Ceratosaurus friends... right?
Maybe he'd go find them again tomorrow. Or maybe he'd go look for Carnotaurus One and Carnotaurus Two.
Momma Dino: ?
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