"Dr. Grant, you have a letter here."
"I see it, Billy. Just put it on the desk."
A man with hair that had turned almost entirely white sat in a tent, staring obsessively at a Velociraptor claw in his hand.
His name was Alan Grant, an archaeologist dedicated to paleontology. He was a man who always wore a fedora and possessed a fanatical curiosity about dinosaurs. Even now, with living dinosaurs appearing before the world's eyes, he chose to stay at his dig sites, searching for the footprints of these ancient creatures in the dust.
He knew that the dinosaurs in Jurassic World weren't "true" dinosaurs. Or perhaps, two near-death encounters with these prehistoric beasts had left him with a touch of PTSD. The "zero-distance contact in the wild" kind of PTSD.
Rippp—
Using the raptor claw to slice open the envelope, Grant pulled out the letter.
Dear Dr. Alan Grant,
I am Simon Masrani.
You may have heard of me; Jurassic World is currently under my ownership. After a board meeting, we have decided to spare no expense in creating a Primeval Ecological Zone, a place where dinosaurs can live as they once did.
To this end, we would like to formally invite you to serve as our Risk Assessment Consultant.
Of course, we have also invited Dr. Ellie Sattler and Dr. Ian Malcolm. I believe no one in this world understands the potential dangers lurking within this park better than you three.
Please do not be quick to refuse. Upon completion, I will personally gift you a dig site, of your choosing.
Yours sincerely,Simon Masrani
It's fair to say Simon was truly going "all out" for this Primeval Ecological Zone. Aside from being a risk assessor, Dr. Grant was a scholar who understood these creatures better than anyone. With him on board, the success rate of the zone would increase exponentially.
However...
"I'm not going," Alan Grant muttered to himself, tossing the letter into the trash.
He had sworn never to set foot on that island again.
Ring... ring...
His phone lit up. The caller ID read: Ellie Sattler.
Grant drifted into memory. She was a paleobotanist who had studied fossils with him, and later, they had survived the original Jurassic Park together. She had since started a family, while he remained enamored with skeletons in the dirt.
He picked up.
"Hey, Alan. Did you get the letter?"
"I did."
"Are you going?"
"I am not."
"Really? That's a shame. I'm planning to go."
"Why?" Grant was genuinely confused. Ellie's experience at the park had been arguably more terrifying than his own.
"I'm curious to see what the park has become. Plus, word is they've reconstructed several species of ancient plants. I want to see them for myself."
Ellie's voice was still full of life. Alan remained silent. Since the incident over a decade ago, he hadn't trusted arrogant, overconfident scientists.
"What about Malcolm? Have you asked him?"
"He's going, too."
"Why?! He's the most vocal opponent they have!" Grant was shocked. Ian Malcolm had consistently opposed the resurrection of dinosaurs, believing these creatures had no place in the modern world.
"It's because he's the opposition that he's going," Ellie said with a hint of a smile. "Mr. Masrani invited him to give a lecture... to the scientists."
"Sounds like something he'd do."
A moment of silence followed.
"So, Alan... are you really not coming?"
Grant sighed, his tone resigned. "Fine. I'll go."
He couldn't leave his old friends to face it alone. In the end, he decided to join them.
…
Today marked one month since Carlo's birth.
Unfortunately, there was no party. Where did the other twenty-odd days go? Eating, sleeping, catching butterflies, and jumping out to scare goats. Time flies when you're a dinosaur.
Carlo now stood 1.5 meters tall, roughly the height of a small human child.
At this moment, he was crouched in a thicket, staring intently at the feeding station ahead.
Whirrr—
The sound of an engine signaled the metal floor on the ground to split and slide apart. Once the hatch was fully open, a metal platform carrying a deer slowly rose.
Click.
The platform locked into place. The deer wasn't tethered; it was frantically scanning its strange new surroundings. It didn't dare bleat or move, sensing the musk of a predator in the air. Something was watching it.
Bang!
A flare shot up. Like a human suddenly discovering a cockroach on their back, the deer bolted, sprinting away from the sound.
It was running directly toward where Carlo was hidden.
30... 25... 20...
Carlo was downwind, so the deer couldn't smell him. Even so, he had to strike early; he was becoming too large for the low grass near the platform to hide his frame.
When the deer was only ten meters away, Carlo moved.
He lunged from the brush, opening his jaws wide, aiming for the neck!
Snap!
The sound of jaws slamming shut echoed.
Carlo had bitten the air.
The deer proved why it was one of nature's most agile reactors. The moment Carlo lunged, it calculated the distance. With a small mid-air hop and a powerful leg tuck upon landing, it leaped again!
This second jump narrowly avoided Carlo's bite. Bypassing the need for a slow start, the deer sped off in the opposite direction for its life.
Carlo didn't give up. The moment his prey fled, he adjusted his strategy.
He would turn this into a race of endurance.
His burst speed couldn't catch a deer. At his limit, he could only match its pace. Having lost the advantage of a head start, he had to keep the deer in his sight at all costs.
Thump... thump... thump, thump.
His acceleration was slow. It took a full seven seconds to reach top speed. By then, the deer was a mere dot in the distance, nearing the treeline where its camouflage would make it nearly impossible to track.
Huff...
Carlo exhaled a hot burst of breath, focusing his entire mind on his sense of smell.
It was a risky move. He had to maintain high-intensity exertion while keeping his mind clear and his breathing steady. One slip-up and he'd suffer a debilitating cramp or stitch.
In a nearby tree, a hidden camera lens adjusted its focus, locking onto Carlo's silhouette.
The hunt was on.
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