ENEMIES

David Starr stared out at the sea of faces before him, pausing in his speech about on paleontological behavior study. He had been teaching this seminar at the University of Tampa, Florida for two days now. The strange and stupid questions had never stopped. Even now, a hand was waving in the front row. Starr looked past the man and continued his speech.
"The carnotaurus, when first discovered, was thought to be quite inactive, lying in ambush waiting for prey to come along. Further study of bone and musculatory systems has caused paleontologists to believe differently," Starr said. That hand was getting extremely annoying. Waving back and forth, back and forth, back and forth . . .
"Yes, what it your question?" he asked finally. The man stood up. He was maybe in his early 20s, roughly five-feet-eleven-inches tall, with tawny blond hair.
"Kelly Curtis's theories on the hunting behavior of carnotaurus are much different from yours," the man started.
"Thank you sir," Starr said.
"She says they were most likely chameleons," he continued.
"Thank you sir," Starr said.
"She thinks that if you were standing right next to one, you would never know. The only way to know if there was one there would be to turn bright lights on and off so the animal has to constantly keep changing its skin pattern. Eventually, the animal would feel exposed and would lumber off."
"Sir, sit down," Starr ordered, fed up. "Dr. Curtis is a young, inexperienced woman. Her theories on the hunting and survival behaviors of dinosauria are just assumptions and guesses. Nothing more."
"But, isn't that what paleontology is all about? I mean, you can't just stop off at the local Cretaceous Era and see how the carnotaurus hunted," the man said. A wave of soft laughter swept the room. Starr frowned sharply. This guy was really getting on his nerves.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Sam Malcolm," the man answered. Starr sighed and nodded. He had heard of Ian Malcolm's son. The man was a genius in math, like his father before him. But he also had his father's slightly cracked sense of humor. However, he had better control over it. At least he wore more than only black clothing.
"Mr. Malcolm, have you ever spoken to Dr. Curtis?"
"Once or twice; a long time ago," Sam answered.
"I would suggest talking to her soon. I hear her theories have changed. Please sit down." Starr continued with his speech as Sam slowly sank down into his chair. A few years before, Starr and Curtis had a falling-out over theories and hadn't spoken to each other since. Personally, he begrudged Curtis's success, not her person. In any case, he still felt that people like young Malcolm should be restrained. Such silly thoughts!

KELLY CURTIS

Kelly Curtis slowly stood from where she'd been crouched over the skeleton of a juvenile oviraptor half-buried in the cool Texas sands. It was March, but she still wore a light coat against the cold wind. She shaded her eyes from the bright sunlight with her hand, and stared hard at the person approaching her. There was something familiar about the long, lanky stride --
"Sam!" she called, waving. Sam Malcolm waved back.
"How have you been, Kelly?" he asked as he came nearer. Kelly hugged him when he stopped before her.
"I've been really good. I was just working on this baby here. A little female. Ought to make a good addition to any museum. So, how have you been?"
"Okay. My father passed away last year."
"Oh I know. You must have been devastated. I know I was. You two were so close to each other." Kelly's sympathy was sincere, and Sam nodded. An uncomfortable silence lasted for a few seconds, then Kelly cracked the soundless atmosphere.
"Well hey, why don't you come on inside and have a drink? We've got a heater in there, and - do you like football? Maybe we could catch a game, or something. If you want," she offered generously. She led him to a long office trailer, and they stepped into its warm interior. There were several workers gathered around the TV.
"Dr. Curtis, take a look at this," one of the men said. Kelly caught the last few words of the reporter's story.
".... On Isla Sorna. There are no leads yet as to what could have killed them." Just the name of the Costa Rican island struck a forgotten dread in Kelly's stomach.
"Fill me in," she said.
"A group of hunters went to an island off Costa Rica. The Coast Guard received a distress signal from the hunters, but by the time they got there, something had already killed them. Absolutely tore them to ribbons. The Coast Guardsmen who were dispatched onto the call were ordered to sign a non-disclosure agreement stating that none of them could ever discuss anything they saw on this island. And guess who was behind that request. InGen. Pretty creepy, huh?" Kelly needed air. Dreams of this moment had haunted her nights for years now, and it had finally happened. Sam followed her out onto the porch.
"Kelly? What's wrong?" he asked. She sighed.
"I need to talk to Arby."

R.B. BENTON

Kelly parked her car in front of a towering estate house. She and Sam had driven all day to get to the secluded Tennessee spot. They went up to the house, and Kelly rapped on the door. A well-dressed manservant answered.
"Ed, I need to speak to Arby right away," Kelly said. Ed nodded, holding the door wide for them to enter. A tall black man was standing in the hall, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his navy blue dress pants.
"Kelly," he said, striding over. They shook hands warmly. "It's been a long time," he continued; "How are things going?" Benton asked. Kelly glanced at Sam.
"Would you excuse us for a few minutes?" she asked him. He nodded, and Kelly led Benton down the hall. Sam tried to listen in on their conversation, but they were talking softly and he could only catch snatches of the conversation. Kelly was talking.
"Remember -- on Isla Sorna? -- Need vehicles to go back there -- coming with me," Kelly had said. Sam wished he could hear every word, instead of just parts of sentences. Benton was shaking his head, seeming angry.
"-- Know well -- happened there. I won't go back!" He pointed to what looked like a scar on his forehead and said something Sam couldn't hear.
"This is important," Kelly said. "Please Arb." Finally, Benton seemed to give in, and they came back to where Sam stood.
"Arby's going to supply us with field equipment, vehicles, and a few other things. Arb, you, a research team, and me are headed for Isla Sorna to scope out the situation," Kelly informed Sam.
"What for?" Sam asked.
"Those hunters are dead, Sam. We need to know why. And how. Come on, we need to get started. I want to be on and off the island by the end of the year," Kelly said, the three of them heading for Kelly's car.
By September, everything was ready. Along with Benton, Kelly, and Sam, there was Joe Snelling, a field equipment expert; Tor Adams, a weapons expert; and Doug Lee, a photographer and video documentarian.
For the second time in their lives, Kelly and Benton were heading to Isla Sorna. Kelly stood at the bow of the ship carrying the team and its equipment, waiting for the island to come into view. She was watching Adams cleaning and loading a gun.
"That a Lindstradt?" she asked.
"Yup. Lindstradt air rifle. Most expensive gun in the world. Fires a subsonic impact-delivery dart. I'm loading it with the enhanced venom of Conus purpurascens - South Sea cone shell. It's the most powerful neurotoxin in the world. Acts within a two-thousandth of a second, which is faster than the nerve-conduction velocity. So, the animal's down before it even feels the prick of the dart," Adams said quickly and informatively.
"There an antidote?" Kelly asked casually.
"What, like if you shot yourself in the foot? Don't do that. You'd be dead before you even realized you had an accident." Nearby, Sam shuddered at the thought. Why on Earth would Kelly need such a powerful weapon? He decided to ask.
"Kelly, what's the Lindstradt for?" he called. Kelly hesitated, then came over. "It's a very long story," she said.
"I've got time."
"Well, about fourteen years ago I, Arby, your father, and a few other people came to this island looking for a missing person. We found him, but we were being followed by another genetics company's team. They were all killed, and even if they hadn't been, they would have been tried for attempting to murder our paleontologist, Sarah Harding. Anyhow, your father and Arby were badly injured. What's really creepy about this place is that, according to Richard Levine and Dr. Malcolm, all the animals on this island should be dead," Kelly started to explain.
"Why?"
"See, that goes back even further, to a company called InGen Biotechnologies. They raised a bunch of animals in a laboratory called Site B on Sorna as an experiment. Their one big mistake was to feed the carnivores ground-up sheep's meat, which is known for harboring diseases. The carnivores were infected with a strain of encephalitis, which they called DX. The workers were still battling with the disease when a hurricane hit and wiped out the facility at Site B. When the animals were released into the wild, the carnivores began to hunt the smaller animals. DX is spread through the mucus membranes and also through the animals' excretions. So gradually, all the animals along the food chain became infected in one way or another. They should have all died out years ago. And then when I heard that story and found out InGen was behind the cover-up, I knew there must still be animals alive there, somehow. That's why we're coming out here with all this stuff. We're trying to find out why."
Suddenly the island burst into full view.
Kelly joined Benton at the bow of the ship, and the two exchanged a glance.
"Here we go again," Benton said.
"Let's just hope it isn't as bad as it was last time," Kelly answered him softly.

ISLA SORNA

They landed on the island and unloaded the two electric cars and the motorcycle, and the two huge research trailers. It was the same type of equipment that had been used on the last expedition to Isla Sorna, all of the vehicles light and strong. They started off in single file, heading for the ridge road. Snelling was driving the research trailers; Kelly and Benton were behind him in the first of the cars; and Adams, Lee, and Sam were in the rear car.
Kelly flipped on the computer monitor in front of her and linked onto Sorna's radio network. The island was run on geothermal energy, and would always have power. She scrolled through a screen of icons, trying to remember which one had uplinked the island's video camera system. She found it at last, and the tiny pictures of the island popped up onto the screen. She removed a couple, enlarged the rest, and arranged them on the screen. Then, she picked up her radio.
"How're you doing up there, Joe?" she called. The radio crackled, then the man's voice transmitted from the vehicle ahead.
"Just great, Dr. Curtis. This place is really something," he said.
"How you doing in back, Sammy?" Kelly asked. Sam's voice came on.
"Very funny, Kelly. I'm not a little kid anymore."
"Ohhhh. Sorry. Lee? Adams? Everything check out okay?"
"Just fine, Doc," said Adams. "How's your battery?" "Full charge," Lee said.
"Perfect. Flip on your dashboard screens, guys. We've got a view of the whole island." Kelly had been careful to place the bigger, more important pictures in the center of the screen. She braced herself for the reaction. The radio crackled, and Snelling's voice transmitted, sounding high-pitched and frightened.
"Holy -- Doc, are you seeing this?" he cried.
"Yeah. Those are Parasaurolophus," Kelly said. The half-dozen thirty-foot-long, bipedal, duckbilled dinosaurs that had just appeared out of nowhere, were running through the grass, and were just barely taller than the research vans. One para lowered its head as it ran along, the horn on the back of the head raking up the side of the first van.
"Joe! You okay?" Kelly called over the radio.
"Yeah. That thing scared the heck outta' me, though." He sounded shaken, but okay.
"I can't remember them being that aggressive. Better turn off this road. I think it's a game trail," Kelly said.
"Roger that. Heading east," Snelling said, turning the vehicle left, away from the paras.
"Hey, Lee? You guys are awful quiet back there. Talk to me." The radio crackled.
"We're, ah, we're just in shock is all," Sam told her.
"Wow! Would you look at that!" she heard Adams exclaim.
"Okay. Keep in touch." Kelly put down her radio and sighed, looking up at Benton. Although three years younger than Kelly, she still thought of him as kind of a big brother. His face was grim with thought.
"Are you thinking about the raptors?" she asked. Benton nodded.
"And the rexes; and other things," he said.
"Hey Kell, what's a raptor?" asked Snelling.
"Sorry. I thought the radio was off," she told Benton. He didn't say anything. To Joe, she said: "Velociraptor is a carnivore. Six feet tall, dark brownish-green with tiger-like stripes. They're vicious, evil things with a six-inch-long razor blade claw on the middle toe of each hind foot. It walks upright. The front legs are longer and stronger than most bipedal dinosaurs, and they're incredible leapers.
"The last time we were here, we watched a man get killed and eaten by these things, and Arby was dragged off by a group of them." There was a long break, then the radio crackled and Snelling came on again.
"Oh. Sorry buddy. I didn't know," he said hesitantly.
"No prob, Joe," Benton answered.
"Hey Kelly?" called Lee.
"Yes?"
"When are we going to stop and put up base camp? It'll be dark soon."
"Right. I know a place." She turned the radio off and turned to Arby. "Pull around Snelling and take the lab road. You remember where that is?" she instructed. Benton nodded and did as asked. Soon, the long, low buildings came into sight. It was the Site B laboratory.
"Can you guys sleep with flashing lights?" Kelly asked.
"Why?" asked Adams.
"Because this is carnotaurus territory after dark, if I remember correctly. These guys are better chameleons than octopi, and the only way to keep them away is to make them have to keep changing colors and patterns."
"You've seen them before?" Sam asked. "Yes."
"Oh great. I've been getting myself into trouble in class because I liked your ideas. They were very imaginative, and I stuck up for you when my teachers told their own theories. I feel like such an idiot." Kelly laughed.
"Sam, you are an idiot," she teased.
"Thank you Kelly," Sam answered.
As much as she'd dreaded coming here, Kelly actually found herself having fun. When they arrived at their destination, they set up camp -- six one-man tents inside a ring of vehicles, bathed every few seconds in swashes of white light.