When Ellie awakened, she was still in the same position she had been in when she had lain down earlier, but when she opened her eyes, she briefly experienced the disconcerting sensation of finding herself in an unfamiliar place. The remembrance came back to her with a jolt, and she experienced a brief moment of apprehension, which was quickly set aside. She was here for a purpose, and she would do her best to help Alan.
Tossing back the sheet, she sat up and yawned, feeling surprising refreshed after her nap. The headache that had plagued her since leaving the airplane was gone, and a twinge of hunger suggested that it was nearing mealtime. Glancing down at her feet, she saw that she was barefoot. Alan must have come in while she was sleeping and removed her shoes. Without bothering to put them on, she got up and walked down the corridor toward the restroom, and pushed the door open. She was momentarily startled to find it occupied.
Alan, dressed only in a pair of jeans, was rinsing his face in the wash basin, which he had filled with water from the barrel. She watched him for several moments, intrigued by his lean, tanned body. Wilderness life and the exercise equipment he had told her about were obviously agreeing with him. He was in better shape than she had ever seen him, neither too slender nor too muscular.
When he became aware of her presence, he turned his head toward her and smiled a greeting. "I was starting to worry about you." Rising up from the sink, he reached for the towel that was draped around his neck, and used it to dry his face.
Puzzled, she asked, "Why? I just took a little nap."
"Nap? Ellie, you�ve been asleep for sixteen hours."
She blinked with surprise. "Sixteen?" For many weeks after the accident, she had faithfully taken the tranquilizers the doctor had prescribed to assist her in sleeping. She had finally discontinued them because they made her feel heavy-headed and drugged afterward. The trade-off was the resulting difficulty in obtaining a complete night of sleep. "Wow. I guess I must have been more tired than I realized."
"That�s why I let you sleep, but I�ll tell you, it was starting to concern me." He finished drying his face, then observed her approvingly. "I must say, you look better."
"I feel better," she agreed, trying to force her eyes not to stray to his bare chest, but they were not obeying. Finally, she forced them to look past him, at the row of sinks. Moving to the basin she had designated as hers, she dragged her hairbrush through her long flaxen hair, ignoring the gaunt face the looked back at her from the mirror.
Alan watched, admiring the long blonde tresses that fell softly over her shoulders and partway down her back.
"You let your hair grow out," he commented.
She turned her head to look at him, and smiled; at last, a trace of the Ellie he had known before. "So did you."
He raised his hand self-consciously to finger the long strands, and made a face of disgust. "I sorta hoped you wouldn�t notice."
"Alan, how could I not notice? You�ve never let your hair grow that long." She lifted her shoulders in a quick shrug. "It doesn�t look that bad, really."
He shrugged, tucking an errant lock behind his ear. "If only that was true."
"If it bothers you, I could cut it for you."
He looked up, as if startled by the offer. "I remember what happened the last time you tried to cut my hair! Thanks anyway, but I believe I�ll pass."
Again, a brief glimpse of the old Ellie flickered across her face. "It wasn�t that bad!" she protested with mock indignation.
"It wasn�t?" he asked. "It looked like you had tried to carve the alphabet into it! Not to mention the fact that you nearly cut my ear off!" He rubbed his ear, as if soothing a painful remembrance.
�I did not!� For a moment, he thought she might laugh. Briefly, the corners of her eyes crinkled, then smoothed as the moment slipped away, melting into the disturbing look of depression he had seen since her arrival.
Quickly, she busied herself with the hairbrush again.
Alan watched for several moments with a concerned frown that Ellie tried to ignore.
"Listen, Ellie, if you ever want to talk," he offered.
"There�s nothing to talk about," she told him with a smile that was clearly forced.
"I just thought it might help to talk about it."
This time, her hands stopped working, and she rested them on the edge of the basin as her eyes studied the white porcelain. "Listen, Alan. I know you want to help, but there�s nothing you can do. There�s nothing anyone can do that will bring my family back. I just have to deal with it the best way I can, and right now, I don�t want to talk about it. Okay?"
He raised his hands as if in surrender. "Okay. But I�m here, Ellie, if you ever do want to talk."
With the offer made, he left the room.
Turning her face toward the door, she gazed at it as it slowed eased shut, then whispered, "Thank you."
Shocked by the revelation that she had enjoyed a sixteen-hour sleep, something she had not done since she was a teenager, Ellie returned to her cubical to change into clean clothes. That explained why she had felt so refreshed upon rising from what she had believed was a short nap.
As she considered the fast pace of the past few days, it was no wonder she had been so tired. She had endured a very long and very tiring trip with very little rest, and her body was still trying to catch up to the changes in time and climate. It was enough to exhaust anyone.
After changing into a clean pair of faded blue jeans and a sleeveless blouse, she started down the stairs. A shaft of light from above illuminated the staircase, and she looked up to find that the trap door she had noticed last night was open, presumably for ventilation.
The tantalizing aroma of frying bacon drifted up the stairs to greet her, and her stomach rumbled eagerly in response, reminding her that she had missed supper the evening before.
She was not surprised that Alan had already started breakfast. He had spent much of his adult life alone, and it had been necessary to fend for himself. He either had to cook his own meals, or eat restaurant food all the time. Out here, however, there were no restaurants.
Completing her trek down the long staircase, she turned toward the kitchen, following the mouthwatering aroma, then paused when she reached the kitchen door to observe Alan as he lifted the strips of bacon from the frying pan, then replaced them with another portion. She smiled as he flinched and grimaced when the fatty meat crackled and popped in the grease. He put the lid on the skillet and turned toward the refrigerator, then stopped when he saw her.
He had put on a tan shirt, open at the neck and with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows in typical Alan Grant fashion. A pair of work shoes which her mother had always referred to as �waffle stompers� completed the ensemble.
She entered the kitchen, pretending that she had not been watching him. "That smells good," she said. "I could smell it all the way upstairs."
"Nothing smells quite as good as bacon," he agreed, proceeding to the refrigerator. "I keep hearing about the evils of bacon, but old habits are hard to break. I always have Miguel bring me one package with my supplies." He opened the refrigerator door and withdrew a carton of eggs. "I�ve been trying to be more health-conscious as I get older, but every so often, I treat myself to a good high cholesterol fried breakfast."
"Here, let me finish with that," she said, reaching for the eggs.
He relinquished the carton to her, and she set it down on the countertop, and lifted the lid. Returning to the stove, he stirred the potatoes that were frying in another skillet. They sizzled and popped with a mouthwatering aroma.
"How many eggs do you want?" she asked.
"Two."
She broke open four eggs and dropped their contents directly into the skillet with the bacon. "We�ll both eat unhealthy this morning," she said. "Where is your trash?"
He reached under the counter and withdrew a plastic container with an airtight lid. "Put the shells in here," he said, lifting the lid to reveal a repulsive combination of vegetable scraps, eggshells, and coffee grounds.
She knew what it was from her father�s interest in gardening. "You�re composting?" she asked, tossing the eggshells into it.
He replaced the lid, and returned the container to its place under the counter. "Yes. I have a garden out back. The heat and humidity here are excellent conditions for composing."
Surprise flickered across her face. This man never ceased to amaze her. "A garden? I didn�t know you were interested in gardening."
He shrugged. "I�ve always been interested in it, but never had the time for it. Summers were always spent out on dig sites. Here, I have perfect climate plus plenty of time to do it."
"What do you grow?"
"Tomatoes, beans, squash, cucumbers, eggplant, peppers, watermelons. I even put in some corn. It�s producing quite well."
He sounded so proud of himself that she had to smile. "You cook all these vegetables?"
His smile was amused. "What? You thought my diet consisted only of sandwiches and heat �n serve?"
"Well, yeah, if you must know, that�s exactly what I thought. I thought you would be too busy to cook."
The smile faltered slightly at the vague reference to his workaholic attitude. "Surprise."
"I am surprised, but I think it�s great. Gardening is a good hobby. My dad loves it."
"The previous occupants had already cultivated and fenced a section of the land to keep out the herbivores, so all I had to do was clear the previous growth from it, and start planting."
He fell silent as she lifted two large helpings of eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes onto two plates.
He picked up one of the plates and a cup of steaming coffee. "Let�s eat up on the roof," he suggested. "The view is magnificent."
She quickly poured a cup of coffee and followed him up the stairs. At the second floor, he proceeded up to the open trap door in the ceiling. He stepped onto the roof, and Ellie followed, curiously.
The roof was made of concrete, sloping slightly toward the edges for drainage. A two-inch high rim encircling the door opening and the lip around the trap door itself prevented rainwater from washing back into the stairwell. Around the edges of the roof, a single metal guardrail protected the occupants from an accidental fall. A wooden awning was erected over the center of the roof to provide shade and prevent rain from falling into the stairwell. Several round metal tables were bolted to the roof. Obviously, InGen�s geneticists had spent leisure time there, eating or relaxing. A couple of barrels stood in the open.
�For collecting rainwater,� Alan said in answer to her questioning glance as she peered into one of the barrels. �It rains a lot here, and it�s easier to carry buckets of water down to the bathroom than it is to carry them up the stairs.�
Turning away from the barrel, Ellie paused briefly to gaze at the geographic beauty of the island. As Alan had stated, the view was magnificent.
While Ellie took in the view provided by the height, Alan selected a table near the edge, and placed his plate and coffee cup on it, then pulled out a chair for himself and another for Ellie. She quickly joined him, and they sat down to breakfast.
"This is so beautiful," she said. "Do you eat up here often?"
"Almost always." He paused briefly, thinking how much he had missed having someone to talk to; how much he had missed her. "I guess I�ve learned to stop and recognize the things nature has to offer. I never did that before. Sunsets are particularly spectacular from here."
"I�m anxious to see it. Maybe we can watch it together, tonight."
He gazed at her for a long moment, thinking about that: A beautiful, romantic sunset, alone on the deck with Ellie . . . Oh, Lord! he thought. This could be a problem!
They ate in silence for several moments, listening to the haunting call of an unidentified dinosaur in the distance that resounded through the valley. She waited until the cry had faded, then asked, "So, tell me about your research. What have you been doing for the last six months?�
�Basically, locating and documenting all the species on the island, observing their behavior patterns, their diets, and interaction, and snooping through the stuff InGen let behind. When I�m not in the field, I go through the offices and file cabinets in the research center, going over their written accounts of what they were doing. Unfortunately, there isn�t much in the way of documentation. They must have either destroyed or taken the most important ones when they evacuated. Makes me wonder what they were up to.�
�Have you made any interesting discoveries since you�ve been here?�
�One interesting thing I�ve discovered is that every generation comes a little closer to the original species. The skin and flesh samples I�ve been studying indicate that the amphibian DNA used to create the first generation is gradually being taken over and replaced by the animal�s original cell structure. Their physical appearances have even begun minor but very significant changes. Nature is cleansing itself of the foreign DNA."
"Remarkable. So, they�re thriving, then?"
He gestured behind her, toward a large clearing that lay before the distant forest. "See for yourself."
Ellie turned in the direction indicated, and saw the long, snakelike neck of a Brachiosaur rising above the treetops. It was chewing contentedly on the leaves and twigs. For a long time, she could only stare in awe-struck silence as the animal moved slowly through the clearing, browsing on the treetops. "I had forgotten how magnificent they are," she breathed, overwhelmed by the sight of the ancient giant.
He smiled. "Those were my words when I first came back here. I had spent years criticizing everything that went on here, yet when I arrived, I experienced that same thrill that I had when we first came here with Hammond nine years ago. I guess there was a part of me that respected the miracle that made them possible, even if I disagreed with the way they carried it out. The only thing wrong with all this is that it was man-made.�
�Have you studied any of the individual species? You said you were studying raptors last summer when you came to visit.�
�Actually, I�ve been taking a closer look at the Spinosaurus, at least in the few written records that were left behind by the researchers. I�ve only seen it three times since I�ve been here, and I make it a conscious effort to avoid it. It tends to stay close to the coast.�
�Why is that?�
�I suspect it wants to migrate, but that�s just a theory. It�s the most ill-tempered animal I�ve ever seen. It was an infant when the island was deserted, so there isn�t much written about it, but apparently it demonstrated unnaturally aggressive tendencies, even then. Most of the animals imprinted on the feeders as soon as they were born, assuming they were the parents, but not the Spino. Right out of the shell, it saw every living thing it encountered as a food source. It immediately started biting the researching; took one man�s finger off. Some records I�ve found speculate that it is possibly a result of the genetic altering that was going on.�
�Genetic altering?�
He nodded. �I�ve found some vague references indicating that they were attempting to counter the high mortality rate by creating a sturdier, more disease resistant animal. Something went wrong and they radically affected the Spino�s behavior. It is so large that as an adult, humans should be insignificant as a food source. However, when I was here with the Kirby expedition, it seemed to seek us out, attacking us over and over. I still marvel at the fact that any of us survived the experience."
Reaching across the table, she impulsively placed her hand over his. "You have an instinct for survival."
He looked down at her hand, then turned his hand over and closed his fingers around hers briefly, then released it and drew his hand away, as if uncomfortable with the intimacy of the gesture. "Why don�t we go on a minor expedition of our own? I�d like to show you some of the species."
Ellie was immediately caught up in Alan�s enthusiasm, and was eager to explore the island and observe the animals he was studying. The old familiarity they had once shared was starting to return, and she knew he was becoming comfortable with her presence. In response to his question, she nodded. "Sure."
Breakfast completed, they gathered their plates and coffee cups and started back down the stairs. As Ellie followed the charismatic and sometimes enigmatic paleontologist down the narrow staircase, her gaze fell upon her plate. She had not eaten everything, but she had done much better than usual. Unaccustomed to large, heavy meals, her stomach had filled up quickly, but at least she had felt hungry prior to the meal. That was significant progress that would have pleased her parents.
She realized, with a jolt of conscience, that she had been up over an hour, and this was the first time she had thought about the loss of her family. Being with Alan, listening to him describe his work on the island, was like a feel-good tonic that had been long denied. Deliberately, she pushed those twinges of guilt into the back of her mind. She would not allow her depression to spoil the day.
Alan led the way back to the kitchen, deep in his own thoughts. To his astonishment, he had enjoyed his conversation with her, and sharing the discoveries he had made. She had always been an attentive listener, willing to hear anything he had to say. With a feeling of self-reproach, he realized that he had not always been so willing to listen to her needs or to her thoughts and feelings. That would change, he vowed. Six months alone on the island had showed him the value of friendship, and reminded him that, in spite of his denials, he was a lonely man who was too obsessed with his work. He valued her friendship as no other. She was, in a very real sense, the best friend he had ever had.
When they reached the kitchen, he deposited his plate and fork in the sink, and took one last sip from his coffee mug before placing it in the sink as well.
"Unfortunately, the dishwasher doesn�t work, so we have to wash them by hand,� he told her as he watched her place her own dishes in the sink. "Since there�s no running water, I fill up the sink with water from the rain barrels outside the back door. It�s the easiest way to get water for washing. When unstopped, the water flows out. I don�t know where it goes, but I presume the people who constructed this place had it all figured out."
"I suppose," she responded with a smile that seemed less than genuine.
He sensed instantly that she was fighting her depression again, reminding him that her emotional condition was fragile. He knew she would benefit from opening herself up to him and talking about it, but he did not question her. She would open up when she was ready.
"Tell you what," he said, cheerfully. "We�ll go up the ridge and see if there are any animals in the valley. I always take one of the video cameras with me. It�s a great place to record their interaction.�
Surprise flickered in her eyes. �You have a video recorder?�
�I have two of them,� he replied. �Just in case something goes wrong with one, I have the other as a spare. I�m learning to get along better with electronics,� he added, understanding her unspoken reference to his discomfort with anything mechanical. �We�ll do the dishes when we get back."
"Whatever you want," she replied. Glancing down at her bare feet, she said, �I guess I�d better get some shoes on.�
While Ellie trotted back up the stairs for her shoes, Alan fetched his backpack, already containing plastic bags and small sterile bottles for collecting samples. He had no doubt that the dinosaurs would appeal to the scientist in her, and would undoubtedly lift her spirits. The shock prod was slipped into the loop on his belt.
After one final errand in the kitchen, he was waiting for her in the foyer when she came back down wearing her work shoes. Ellie waited silently as he hefted the backpack, and settled it into position in the middle of his back. The fedora was removed from the rack and placed on his head.
"Ready?"
She nodded.
He opened the door, and she followed him outside. As always, he carefully locked the cage-like bars behind him.
"I�ll give you the extra key in case you need to go outside for any reason, but I want you to promise that you�ll stay close."
"I�m not a child, Alan," she reminded him.
"I know, but I�ll worry if you place yourself in danger. I know how you like to explore. I remember that time you decided to explore one evening on the dig site in Montana, and got yourself lost. Out here, getting lost could be fatal."
Her eyes lifted to his face again at the indication that he still cared. "I know this place is dangerous, Alan," she told him, then sighed, feeling ashamed at her own resentment. He was only trying to help. "I�ll stay close," she promised.
First, he led the way to the enclosure that contained his garden, and Ellie curiously observed the vegetable plants in varying stages of growth, so that as one group of plants were completing their cycle of production, another group was just beginning to produce. All the mature plants were large and green, and heavily laden with fruit. Her eyes fell upon the tantalizingly huge green watermelons that lay nestled among the sprawling vines. "Do you plan on eating all those watermelons yourself?" she asked, her voice almost teasing.
He smiled. "I�m afraid I didn�t realize how many melons one plant would produce, so I planted the whole package. I�ve been offering some of them to the plant eaters. They seem to like them. They�re ripe, so anytime you want one, feel free to come out and get it."
"I�m impressed."
He lifted his shoulders in a modest shrug. "Well, I suppose when I get home, I�ll have plenty of time for gardening, since digging up fossils seems to have gone out of style."
"It�ll be a challenge," she warned. "The growing season in Montana is short, and you won�t have this wonderful climate."
"Yeah, you�re right." He took off the fedora and scratched his head, as if puzzling over a suitable answer, then replaced the hat with a sigh. "Well, maybe I�ll move farther south. There is certainly nothing holding me there, any longer."
"When you get home, you�ll be expected to go on the talk show circuit."
That caught his startled attention. "What?"
"Alan, you�re the first man who�s ever been granted permission by the Costa Rican government to come to this island to study the animals. You�ve been here for nearly seven months. That alone is going to generate a lot of attention."
"I didn�t do this for the attention."
If anyone else had said that, Ellie would have found the words suspect, but she knew Alan well enough to know that he was entirely truthful in his assumption that he could complete his studies without generating much notice. "Well, whether you want it or not, you�re going to get it. People will have questions, and you will be expected to answer them. And they�re going to expect to see video of them. You�re taping them for your own studies, but everyone in the world is going to want to see them. What better medium to do that than television? I�d be willing to be that CNN will be calling you the moment your plane lands."
"Damn," he sighed, wearily. "You�re right. There�s going to be a media frenzy. I never even considered that. I expected to go home and quietly write a book about my experiences here. Maybe give a few lectures . . ."
"Just when you think you have everything planned out, fate rears its head and bites you in the butt."
He knew her words were a metaphor that included the loss of her family. �Well, I guess I�ll just have to deal with it when the time comes."
She wanted to respond that she would be there with him to assist him, but she kept quiet, not knowing if he even wanted her help. Instead, she said, "You�ll do fine. You always do."
Together, they walked away from the compound, walking side by side. Years earlier, he would have held her hand or placed an arm around her, but of course he did not do that now. She was a widow, still belonging to the memory of another man, and to intrude upon that space would be inappropriate. The conversation ended by mutual consent, for the sound of their voices would alert their presence to any predators in the area.
Go to Chapter 9