Jurassic Park: Whispers of the Past (WotP) Sneak Preview
WotP is the third and final story in a JP Trilogy written by Kyle Warner and Yvonne Bartha
Previous stories:
Jurassic Park: Shadows of History (SoH)
Jurassic Park: Dawn of Retribution (DoR)
And now . . . on to the preview!
Introduction to Sneak Peek # 1
Anyone here remember that story called Dawn of Retribution? It was kinda cool, you should check it out some time if you haven't already. Hehe. . . Well anyway, Yvonne and I are still hard at work on the sequel and final installment in this little trilogy of fan fiction. The story's progressing pretty well, we're about half way through it right now, and it's. . . pretty long, too (I hope that's not something discouraging to mention). We hope to post it sometime soonish, but we're not setting any dates because we've sort of passed up all our previous ones! But until then, we have two sneak peeks for you to read, if you like! The first here takes place towards the beginning of the story and features Alan, Charlie, and Ellie's other child Samantha, being harassed by two FBI agents who believe Alan has something they are looking for.
- Kyle
Counting down the minutes until Ellie's mother would be there to get the kids, Alan remained in the kitchen, trying his best to not seem like he was hiding out. Charlie and Samantha were in the living room. He had already cleaned up a half-dozen messes in the last hour and was about to lose his temper, before he had retreated into the kitchen.
Parenthood wasn't like he thought it would be. Hearing them giggle, then argue, then laugh again was wearing on his patience for some reason, as he gathered they were probably making even more messes. Opening the refrigerator, he eyed a beer for over a minute, and then he finally grabbed one and sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. Relaxing sounded good, since his ribs were bothering him again.
He didn't get to relax for long, though.
"Alan?" came Charlie's voice from the other room.
"What is it?" he half-shouted, about to open the beer bottle in front of him.
"You might want to come here."
Sighing, Alan slowly stood up and replaced the beer bottle on the top shelf of the refrigerator, then made his way into the living room.
His jaw dropped.
Charlie was sitting on the couch, looking through a kid's book of some sort, while Samantha was standing in front of the television. She had painted the screen with various colorful images.
"Look! It's a zoo!" she said proudly.
"Yeah, uh. Yeah, that's nice," Alan offered, frowning, staring at Charlie, wondering why he didn't stop her.
"I want to go to the zoo, too," she added, looking sad.
"Well . . . you can't," he replied, slowly walking toward the television.
"Why?"
"Your grandma said no," Alan answered, lying.
"When did she say that?"
"Just clean this stuff up, okay?"
She nodded and began to make her way around to the back of the television, where she had thrown a few stray brushes that she hadn't liked.
Leaning over to move her cup of paint-colored water off the floor, he said, "Charlie, go help her." Charlie kept reading, so Alan raised his voice and waved at the boy, wincing from the effort. "Hey, over here!" Startled, the boy looked up. "Help your sister with that paint stuff."
"Why me?"
"Because you're related to her."
"That's not fa--"
"Just please do this much for me, okay? Your grandma will be here any second and I'd like this place to be clean . . . cleaner."
Charlie finally agreed, closing his book and walking toward his sister. Alan overheard him talking to her. "You're an idiot."
"I am not!" she said, her head appearing from behind the television in anger.
"You painted the TV. You're an idiot."
"Charlie. Stop that," Alan said, as he carried the colored water into the kitchen.
"Fine," he said. He was still holding his book, tucking it under his arm.
Alan made it to the kitchen and set the cup in the sink. Grabbing a dish towel, he wearily made his way back to the living room.
A shadow near the front door grabbed his attention and he sighed, realizing that Patricia was going to witness just what a terrible babysitter he was.
"Grandma's here!" Charlie exclaimed, as he made his way to the front door.
Samantha laughed and ran to hide behind the couch so that she could scare her grandma when she came in.
With Alan standing in the middle of the living room, the door lurched open, hit so hard from the other side, it caused the doorknob to dent into the wall that stopped it. Alan's first instinct was to get to Charlie, but his effort was met by a strong fist against the side of his head, causing him to spin and fall to the floor.
Charlie screamed, while Samantha remained hiding behind the couch, shocked more than anything.
The second man in the room immediately yelled at the first who had punched Alan, "What the fuck are you doing?"
FBI Agent Paul Wiegand stood in place, smiling, looking down at the man he had assaulted. When his partner, Daniel Kohler made his inquiry, he looked up. "Just making sure he stays put. I thought he was making a run for it."
"Well, calm the hell down. He won't tell us anything if he's unconscious, damn it," Kohler whispered.
Alan sat up, shaking his head, trying to make the pain go away. He made eye-contact with Charlie and as soon as he did, the little boy started for him.
"No, Charlie. Stay there," he said, holding out a hand in a stopping gesture.
Charlie froze in place, visibly shaken by the events, his eyes locked on Alan.
"Where are they?" Kohler asked.
"Where is who?" Alan asked.
Wiegand approached with the intention of attacking Alan again, but Kohler stepped in front of him. "Give it a rest, okay?"
Wiegand grunted and stepped back, looking at the kid.
Adjusting his jacket, Kohler looked at Alan, "I suggest you cooperate, before I allow my partner to do the questioning his way."
"Whatever you want," Alan said, still on the floor and still trying to take it all in, "There's money in the bedro---"
"Money? Oh, you've got to be kidding me?" Wiegand loudly cut in. He withdrew his gun and pointed it toward Charlie, who was standing about five feet from Alan, crying.
"Oh, God, please," Alan pleaded, "Just . . . leave him alone. He's just a kid."
"Put the damn gun away and help me get Dr. Grant to his feet, will you?" Kohler demanded.
Wiegand obeyed and grabbed Alan by the right arm. Together the agents got him standing, and then Wiegand pushed him into the wall. The force caused the lamp to fall over and almost hit Charlie. Wincing, Alan's hand immediately found its way to his ribs, pressing against his side.
Wiegand moved away, smiling. "Well, well. Looks like we have a previous injury of some sort." With a snicker, he grabbed Alan's arm and shoved him into the wall again.
Alan clamped his eyes shut, shaking his head in an attempt to make the pain subside. It wasn't working. The man took a guess as to where Alan's injury was the worst, striking him once in the side. Instantly, he lost the ability to breathe freely, as it felt like his ribs were pressing up against his skin.
"Where are they?" Kohler demanded, nodding for Wiegand to push him again.
Alan wanted to answer the man. He really did. But his voice had been cut off by the staggered wheezing, as he gripped his side in agony.
The man didn't accept that as a proper answer. He stepped forward and seized Alan by the collar, pushing his body into the hallway.
Samantha had been hiding behind the couch in front of the window. Completely silent since the men had broken through the door and attacked Alan, she was more frightened than ever before in her young life. Unconsciously, she gripped the curtains as the men continued to rough up Alan.
With a loud and sickening thud, Alan hit the carpet in the hallway.
"Look. Just tell me where the papers are and we'll leave you alone," Kohler directed.
Finally, Alan was able to speak a word between the gasps of pain. "Papers?"
"Oh, that's clever," Wiegand retorted. "Act like you don't know what the hell is going on. Fine by me. You're the only one getting hurt here."
Again, Kohler had to intervene. He grabbed Wiegand by the shirt and shoved him away. "Why don't you watch the kid and let me handle this?"
Wiegand bit his lip in anger and then finally succumbed to Kohler's request, walking back into the living room. He made eye contact with Charlie. The boy was standing in place, holding a book in his hand, shaking and crying. He smiled at Charlie. "It'll all be over soon."
Samantha found herself tearing up and tried to stop, managing to keep it to a slight whimper as she held onto the curtains with all her might.
Noticing the curtains moving, Wiegand casually walked in that direction, as Kohler continued to question Alan.
Alan understood what the men wanted now, but it didn't help matters. "The InGen papers?"
"Yes. The InGen papers. Hand them over and then you can pretend you never saw us."
Using the wall for support, Alan stood up and took a deep breath. "I don't have them."
Upon reaching the couch, Wiegand smiled. "Hey, I've got something over here."
Kohler looked away from Alan, "What?" he yelled in a gruff voice, seemingly disappointed to be interrupted.
Leaning over, with his gloved hand pressed against the couch, Wiegand grabbed Samantha by the shirt, removing her from her hiding place. "Come look."
Rolling his eyes, Kohler left the hallway and started for the living room.
Samantha's small cries alerted Alan, who instantly moved away from the wall, trying to follow the man back into the living room.
"Oh, would you look at this," Kohler said. "Something new in the equation." He looked over his shoulder and saw Alan stumbling towards him. He held up a hand and pointed his index finger at Alan. "You stay right there."
Reluctantly at first, Alan did as he was told, putting his shoulder against the wall. He was now standing where the living room met the hallway. His gaze was focused on Samantha as she was suspended by the clothes on her back.
Kohler walked slowly over to Samantha, a bright smile on his face. "Hello, little girl," he said in a voice that deceived his character. He gently patted the whimpering child on the head. "Where did you come from?"
Alan tried to raise his head and speak, "Please-" But the pain in his chest was too much. Gritting his teeth, he whispered, "Please don't hurt her."
Introduction to Sneak Peek # 2:
This scene in the story takes place later on. We wanted to present you with an action scene that didn't involve too many spoilers . . . So we chose this. If you remember in the Epilogue of DoR, there was the FBI agent Jonas Radner (he also had the smallest part earlier in DoR - 1,000 points to who can name when it was). Well in this story, Radner is one of the main characters, and is part of a team looking for somebody (and something!) in Costa Rica where SoH took place (returning to the trilogy's roots, I suppose. . . But it is more complex than I'm making it out to be. I don't want to ruin too much!). Anyway, this scene is where Radner is in the middle of an abandoned village, surrounded by raptors and running out of ammo.
- Kyle
Radner felt his heartbeat quickening and the grip on his gun loosening when the first of the raptors stuck its head out from a building door. The bleeding dinosaur beside him had stopped moving. It was now laying on its side, growling as the last few moments of its life leaked away through the gaping hole in its throat.
Another raptor appeared at the door a few buildings away. This one was younger than the others, its head only reached the chest of the creature beside it.
The two dinosaurs stared directly at him, but made no sounds or aggressive movements. There was a long moment where Radner's confidence started to grow. Maybe there were only these last two left. He still had two bullets remaining. Perhaps he would make it out of this after all. He reaffirmed his grip on the gun and held the raptor's gaze with his own.
There was another growl on the long dark street. But it didn't seem to come from either of the dinosaurs he was looking at. Then one building away and on his side of the street, a raptor stepped out from behind a large green dumpster. The dinosaur growled, its eyes darting from him and down at the bloody corpse of its pack member.
Radner now had one more target than he had ammunition. His self-confidence started slipping quickly. He was about to unload a round directly into the mouth of the nearest dinosaur and take off running. But before he ever could, the dinosaur raised its head into the air, standing up more vertically than before, and barked three times. The raptor lowered itself back down, continuing its glaring and growling.
On cue, all from different buildings and different shadowy places, four more raptors appeared and walked out onto the street.
He looked at the closest raptor that had summoned them all and muttered, "Now why'd you have to do that?" The raptor opened its mouth and let out a long hiss, but made no move to come closer.
Again he was reminded of the sci-fi films with the monsters and the brawny heroes that killed them all one at a time. And again he was reminded he only had two bullets left. Not exactly the best kind of hero there was.
He had carried out his part of the plan. He had drawn the dinosaurs out from hiding and had gotten their total attention. Ian was probably already at the rooftop, looking down at him. He would probably be able to see him die from up there.
He looked over his left shoulder. There were three more buildings in a line before the street came to and end. Of the three buildings, only one had an open door. It was a tall rickety shack that appeared as though it had been through one too many storms. Paint was peeling from the wood and large nails poked out from various angles. A friendly, inviting glow shone out through the open door.
It would serve nicely as his place to hide.
Radner held up his pistol again. The nearest raptor followed the gun with its eyes but never changed its attacking posture. In the flash of fire from the barrel the dark street was lit up for a few short instances. The eyes of the raptors seemed to take on a bright fluorescent glow. As soon as the nearest raptor let out its first scream of pain Radner turned and was off running directly for the rickety shack.
Behind him, the dinosaurs roared and took immediate pursuit. They jumped over their fallen pack members, intent on killing him.
He was one building away from the shack now. He looked back quickly to see how close the creatures were. When he saw that they were only a mere twenty feet away and gaining quickly, he gasped, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He pushed himself to go faster. The whole thing felt like an out-of-body experience. He never felt his feet touch the ground, never was aware of the pounding sound of his heart in his ears. He could see himself. He could see the dinosaurs. And what looked to be too far away, he could see the door to the shack.
Then suddenly he felt his hand on the door to the shack as he ran into the old building. He didn't remember ever getting this far, and suddenly he was there. He heard a growl nearby and closed the door just in time, as the small younger raptor ran head-on into it. Radner grunted, putting his shoulders into the door to close it.
He stepped back to shove a wooden plank into the ancient lock on the door. The raptors were beginning to slam against the door and the side of the building now. The entire structure shook and wood splintered in numerous places.
Radner held his breath as he moved slowly away from the door. It wouldn't hold long, and he knew it. One particular place in the door was already beginning to break through. A raptor was repeatedly bashing its skull into the wood, in a furious attempt to get inside.
He aimed with both hands at the cracking part in the door, and shot his last bullet. With a loud 'plop' the bullet streaked through the wood and into the skull of an unseen raptor. There was a momentary pause where the banging ceased. But then as abruptly as the silence began it ended, and the dinosaurs were attacking the building again.
He kept backing up until he moved into something large and tall behind him. Startled, he spun around with his gun ready to kill whatever it was that was behind him. When he turned, there was a large unintelligible shape covered with a tarp. Sighing, he looked at the gun in his hand, feeling a little foolish for being afraid of a tarp.
The single light in the shack dangled from a chain in the middle of the high ceiling. The chain swayed all about, casting eerie shadows everywhere. Along the far wall was a workbench, littered with lots of tools and equipment.
He turned back to the big shape under the tarp. Curious, he grabbed two large fistfuls of the blue plastic cover, yanking it off.
A flood of happy thoughts invaded his once dreary outlook on the whole situation. He smiled when he saw the large rusted grill of the large diesel gas truck grinning back at him. He might make it out of here.
Radner darted for the driver's side door, stepped on the wide foothold, and jumped onto the dirty bench seat. The steering wheel was the size of one you'd expect to find on a yacht. He looked beside the wheel to find that there were no keys in the ignition. He flipped down the shade from above the windshield, but found no keys there. Cursing, he moved over to the passenger side and opened the glove compartment, rummaging through the junk within, looking for a set of keys. All the while, out of the corner of his eye, he could see the wall and the door shaking violently.
Finally, his hands brushed against something metal. His fingers wrapped around the small object, pulling it from the small compartment. It was a single key, with a big bold Dodge symbol at one end.
He smiled and jammed the key into the ignition, turning it quickly.
It was silent.
No cough or sputter of the engine. Not even a sputter and then the sound of the engine dying. There was nothing at all. Frowning, he turned the key again, but it yielded the same results.
Radner slammed his open palms against the steering wheel, pressed the button to pop open the hood, and then jumped out of the cab. As he moved around to the front hood of the truck, he was dimly aware of the hole beginning to widen on the door.
When he reached the grill of the truck, he lifted the hood and quickly examined the insides.
There was no engine.
"Oh you've gotta be kidding me," he said, throwing the hood back down.
