They set up camp just outside the Visitor Center, in the patchy remains of a once-manicured lawn now half-swallowed by weeds. The cracked concrete plaza had long since given way to wild grass and low ferns, but there was just enough open space to lay out towels and coolers without needing a machete.

  Cassy dropped her duffel onto a broken bench and spun to face the group, arms raised like a general surveying her troops. “Okay, people. Base camp is officially open.” She sashayed over to a portable stereo and hit play. The air filling with the sound of pop music.

  Jake had already cracked a beer. Sandra was digging through the cooler for the bottled Cokes they’d packed. Clark worked the portable grill with military precision, flipping skewers as if auditioning for a cooking show. Samuel had his camcorder aimed at the building, narrating softly: “Day one. Initial contact with the ruins. Structural damage consistent with a decade of weathering. No sign of animal activity…”

  Maria sat on the edge of a concrete planter, away from the group, thumbing through the faded Jurassic Park guidebook she’d swiped from the Visitor Center’s front desk. The cover was sun-bleached, the spine chewed by time, but the interior pages had survived surprisingly well.

  One page showed a layout of the island, identical to the map she’d seen on the wall. Different zones were marked in bright colors: Herbivore Savannah, Carnivore Containment, and Aqua Lagoon. It read like a theme park brochure, cheerful and clean. But next to each paddock was a triangular icon. A hazard warning. And along the bottom of the map, in small bold letters, a key:

  Red Triangle = Lethal Containment Protocols Required. Do not approach without a security Escort.

  Her thumb hovered over one zone marked with four red triangles. Velociraptor Paddock.

  She closed the book.

  “Someone’s in brooding mode,” Cassy said, walking over with a paper plate stacked with grilled shrimp and mango slices. “You really should try this. Clark’s doing great work for someone who doesn’t speak.”

  “I’m good,” Maria said, not looking up.

  “Will you relax already. You're killing the good vibes.” Cassy added, her smile sharp and bright. “Besides, it’s not every day you get to picnic in a dead millionaire’s science experiment.”

  “That’s… definitely one way to put it.” She took the plate automatically. “John Hammonds is not dead yet, just FYI.”

  Cassy’s eye twitched. She tossed her a plastic fork and walked off.

  Sandra wandered over and plopped down beside her, brushing bugs off her knees. “You sure pissed her off.” She snickered. “You doing okay, babe?”

  Maria handed her the guidebook, open to the warning symbols. “Take a look at this.”

  Sandra scanned the page. “Creepy. So… those zones were for the worst ones?”

  “Seems like it. You recognize any of the names?”

  Sandra tilted her head. “Some. The Raptors, for sure. I vaguely remember the Grant dude lecturing about them. The rest I’m not sure.”

  Maria looked toward the treeline. “Doesn’t matter if any of them made it out of their paddocks when things went bad. What matters is that there’s no way of knowing where they ended up or if any are still alive.”

  “Cassy said the Military already came here and killed them.” Sandra reminded her.

  “Are we sure they killed them all? I’m just saying we shouldn’t linger.” Maria said in a low voice.

  Sandra hesitated, then lowered her voice. “Okay, so… don’t freak out, but the yacht’s radio’s been acting weird all morning.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Maria blinked. “Weird how?”

  “Lots of static. I tried calling the harbor station back when we were anchoring, just to check in. Got nothing. Not even a beep. It could be nothing, but... I didn’t want to say anything in front of Cassy.”

  Maria’s stomach twisted. “That seems like something she should know.”

  Sandra gave her a look. “You think she’d turn back?”

  ‘She had a point,’ Maria thought sourly.

  A loud shout broke across the clearing. Jake stood at the edge of the jungle, holding a long stick and pointing at the ground. “Guys! You gotta see this!”

  The others circled him. Maria and Sandra exchanged a look, then followed.

  In the underbrush beside the cracked trail, a large smear of flattened grass and churned earth marked a fresh disturbance. A trail of something wet and viscous streaked across the dirt, ending in a foul-smelling pile of dung nearly the size of a beach ball.

  It was still steaming.

  Clark leaned in slightly, then stepped back, face twisting. “That’s… not cow.”

  “No shit,” Samuel murmured. “It’s fresh. Very fresh.”

  “Wild pigs?” Jake offered, uncertain.

  “Wild pigs don’t do that,” Maria said. Her breathing was shallow, and her eyes were round as saucers. “We should leave, guys. Right now.”

  The group stood in silence. Then Cassy clapped her hands. “Alright, that’s enough biology. Everyone back to base camp.” She pointed a finger at Maria. “Don’t ruin the mood. Ingen had all kinds of animals shipped here.”

  No one argued with Cassy. But the mood had shifted. There was a definite undercurrent of apprehension. They drifted back toward the plaza, quieter. The music still played from the portable speaker, but no one was dancing now.

  From the treeline, something watched them retreat. Its eyes blinked once, sideways, and disappeared into the green jungle.

  Lunch was over. Or it might as well be; no one was eating. The grill hissed quietly beside a pile of half-finished skewers. The boom box still pumped out muffled pop, but lower now, like the jungle itself was pressing a finger to its lips.

  Maria sat cross-legged on a broken stone step near the Visitor Center’s entrance, thumbing the worn edge of the guidebook. She’d dog-eared the map page. Marked a few of the hazard zones in pen. Velociraptors. Dilophosaurs. Pteranodons. The last one worried her more than she cared to admit.

  She looked up just in time to see Jake chuck a soda can into the bushes and start pacing in front of the group.

  “I’m bored,” he declared.

  “You’re always bored,” Clark said flatly.

  “Yeah, but now I’m bored, and the buzzkill got us jumping at shadows.” He said, waving a hand at Maria. “Cass is right, those things are gone. Obviously, there are still animals here. We gotta find a lookout point or something. Put this shit to rest so we can get back to partying.”

  “Bad idea,” Maria muttered.

  Jake ignored her, grabbing a stick and sketching a crude hill shape in the dirt. “Okay, so when we came in, I saw a path branch off to the right. Slopes up, toward the east ridge. I say we hike it. Get a view.”

  “Jake, listen, we should head back to the boat,” Maria said immediately.

  “Buzzkill.” Jake grinned. “If your chicken just says so.”

  “No, just not suicidal,” Maria said through gritted teeth. She was getting tired of being ignored.

  Cassy pushed off from her perch, arms stretching overhead. “Actually, it’s not a terrible idea. There should be a ridge trail, if I remember the map right. Could give us some killer views.” Her tone shifted, more performative now. “Group challenge. Who’s in?”

  Clark shrugged. “Fine.”

  Samuel raised his camcorder. “Could get good footage.”

  Sandra looked at Maria, then quickly looked away. “I mean… It’s just a trail, right?”

  Maria stood. “You’re all serious?”

  Cassy nodded. “Don’t wait up.”

  “No one should go alone,” Maria insisted. “We don’t know what’s out there.”

  “We’ll stick together,” Cassy said, already adjusting her ponytail. “Stay if you’re scared.”

  “I am scared, and so should you.”

  “Just wait here, chicken,” Jake called back.

  One by one, they gathered canteens and flashlights and disappeared into the trail cut through the trees, voices echoing ahead. Leaves swallowed them faster than Maria expected.

  Within moments, the jungle took them.

  Emilia hadn’t gone with them.

  She stood a few feet away from Maria, arms folded, staring into the place where the others had vanished. Her sunglasses hung from her fingers. Her eyes were harder to read now.

  “Smart call,” she said.

  Maria blew out a breath. “This is bullshit. We should already be back on the yacht.”

  They stood in silence for a while. The music had finally cut off. A bird screamed somewhere up high, followed by an unnatural silence.

  “Do you think they’re still out there?” Maria scanned the tree line. “Or am I just being crazy?”

  “The dinosaurs?” Emilia asked. “I don’t know. But something’s watching us. I’m sure of it.”

  Maria turned to her. “You’ve felt it too.”

  Emilia nodded.

  Somewhere, not far away, the jungle made a noise.

  A low sound. Wet. Heavy. Like weight shifting on damp earth. Then stillness again.

  Maria froze.

  Emilia held her breath.

  All was silent again. No roar. No footsteps. Just the long-held breath of something unseen.

  Maria whispered, “We need to get back to the yacht.”

  Emilia’s gaze flicked to the trail. “Not without the others.”

  Another silence. Then, a single bird took flight from the canopy, squawking into the sky.

  Emilia’s shoulder slumped, and Maria felt slightly foolish. Both women felt they should leave. But the jungle, as creepy as it was, was still just a jungle, and aside from the droppings, they hadn’t seen anything dangerous yet.