𝙁𝙀𝙍𝙊𝘾𝙄𝙊𝙐𝙎 » 𝙅𝙒: 𝙙𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙣

III

CHAPTER THREE
AN UNWELCOME SURPRISE

We'd stayed up until two in the morning to talk about it that night.

Seeing him ridden with guilt for an opportunity such as this, when a small part of you was glad to see it that way—it was a horrible contortion of inner conflict. To love someone so much and entertain a prospect of failure in their pending successions. I'd imagine my feelings were mirrored by his frustrations with me. The patience he practiced when I knew he so badly wished I would sought deeper for the confidence I had once held in myself; diminished the day I left that island. The saddest aspect was that neither of us were to blame for how we felt. It was simply the footprint of these companies and their roles in our upbringings—preserved on a concrete bed in our hearts.

Several times, even when we'd woken up a mere hour ago, he'd intently asked for my blessing. If I was genuinely okay with this trip and whom it involved. Every time, I had answered yes. We'd kiss and eventually closed the door, unravelling ourselves until a inkling of sleep was needed for the day ahead.

There was so much smiling involved with such planning that my cheeks grew numb when I was around him. Swallowing down every sharp bout of panic at almost every sentence that left his mouth. For the first time in years, I'd been grateful to set a foot out the door for work, and dread the return home whilst rattling against strangers' shoulders on a subway cart. It didn't help in the slightest that such planning cruelly involved not being able to call ahead to let the three of them know that we were coming.

Lewis Dodgson had called him again to re-confirm all the details of his trip. We both knew I couldn't stay; there were things confidential to his job and I respected that as I knew he would me if I'd chosen to stay involved with a field of prehistoric affairs. Though, mindlessly trailing down the corner store aisles for groceries we didn't really need, a part of me wished I had. It shouldn't have come at a surprise that a man who's face was essentially plastered all over the world would take interest in my boyfriend. A billionaire with shares in groundbreaking frontiers tied to genetic science—as Masrani and Hammond and Lockwood had well before him—so casually calling upon him sitting at the island bench in our tiny apartment. It almost tapped into that innate fascination of idolisation for someone known by millions, before it was quickly washed away by the reminder that something about that man unsettled me in ways I couldn't describe. Then it would start to incite panic, of all I was warned about from Marisa Anderson. Alex had decided not to tell her. I couldn't say I agreed with him,

Then I would remember that the world still turns, with every dinosaur in it, and I continued to remain untouched; left to the shards that these parks had left behind, piecing together whatever I could; no one I could blame for it.

'You set the security alarm timer?' he calls out from our bedroom.

'Not yet,' I reply, tugging down on the last stretch of zip lining my backpack. The weight of it regrettably knocks a bit of wind out of me when I haul it over my shoulders.

The faint trinket of switches sounds from the bathroom, lights turning off as Alex trudges down the hallway. Faint lamplight reflects off of the glass, the sky behind NYC still pitch black.

'You got everything?' I ask him. My voice is pathetically quiet, as thought somebody in the building might watch us leave with the intention of inquiring where we might be going.

He thumbs through the sleeve of important documents on the island bench, murmuring each one to himself as he ticks them off in his head. He gently folds it into his inner jacket pocket, buttoning it back up. 'Luggage there... keys in pocket... I'm good.'

I swallow the colossal yawn at the base of my throat, propping the suitcase handle up. 'Good to go.'

But he's still mentally checking his list off with a slight frown. 'Laptop... thesis... phone...'

His hands fumble for his back pocket, body freezing up momentarily. 'That's right.'

He strides back down the hall for his tiny office made out from our bizarrely huge storage cupboard, flicking the lamp on. A draw tugs open, papers rustling about. 'You can set the alarm!' he calls back.

My bleary, bloodshot eyes squint to press down on each button, the little timer blinking back at me. I push the keys into the heavy door, hauling it open to the frigid hallway air biting at my ankles. The silhouettes of our plants and piles of books stacked in the living room look lonely amongst the dark.

The bedroom light flicks off, Alex's silhouette opening his suitcase and rummaging through the layers of clothes. He zips it up promptly and props it onto its wheels with a heavy sigh. 'That's definitely everything.'

I flick a glance to the watch around my wrist, stomach heavy as ever with paranoia. 'I think that might be the quickest you've ever gotten ready whilst we've been living here.'

The new record for such an event being 45 minutes.

I can feel his smile through the dark as he pulls our door shut behind him, rattling the lock free. 'I mean... considering I'm about to be paid to fly to Italy...'

The airport is rambunctious.

For five AM, it was bafflingly busy. The stark, clinical lights and loud whirring of security measures are disorienting when you haven't been around them for a length of time. An angry crowd of dozens were overflowing around the baggage claim, grabbling at the televisions providing updates on the whereabouts of their luggage. 'Dimorphodon on conveyer, we apologise for the delay!' reads on the bright red ticker trailing across the screen.

Alex eyes the headline as we stand aimlessly amongst the check-in queue. The skin over the scar on my lower back starts to crawl from the last time we'd found ourselves acquainted with those freakishly lovely oversized birds. I pretend to readjust my bag in order to soothe it.

I hated airports more than any place in the world. Not that I'd come to see much of it yet; which would prove to be a problem considering how my distain for airports never lessened anytime we'd found ourselves in one. The commotions of constantly having people pass you by from all angles, asking you harmless questions to which I'd force myself to answer without noticeable panic. Alex was the backbone; getting us past the lines and security checks and distribution of boarding passes.

Somehow, however, the worst part in that glance I'd steal towards the flight itineraries constantly refreshing themselves on those televisions you'd walk under. I knew exactly where my eyes would land, every single time. Blinking back at me. Costa Rica. The gate and time. That little voice telling me it wouldn't be impossible, you know. No matter how far behind me it might seem. Might there be one tiny answer or piece of me left, if I were brave enough to go back and find out. Something that might settle the scores and even me out. To defy the danger that hovered over mine and my family's names every day in this new world of ours.

Fool's gold thinking.

The busyness dies down a little when we reach our gate. Passengers are strewn out in exhausted postures across chairs, standing to rise when the flight attendant calls for boarding passes, reassuring us that Dimorphodon's won't be an issue in getting us off the ground. I smile with a small thank you, letting Alex lead us down the aisle towards the crammed extension to the plane door.

'Row 18, seat C,' she says to me, hanging me back my pass with a warm smile. 'Have a nice flight.'

The flight, as I'd hoped, is barely half full. A Father and daughter are sat in the row before ours—the little girl nursing a sparkly green Stegosaurus in her lap with care as she yawns. The man thumbs through a newspaper, front page a grainy picture of some carnivore attack that has occurred early enough to make headlines. I stuff our bags in the overheads as he plops into his seat, hurrying to slam it shut and sit myself down. I wasn't all that thrilled about an aisle seat, but it had felt petty to complain. 

'This is getting pretty exciting,' Alex murmurs with giddiness, grinning as he peered out the dark runway bathed in orange light. 'This time in forty eight hours I'm gonna be in the Dolomite Mountains with some of the best minds in the world.'

I give his hand a squeeze, smiling assuredly. 'I'm excited for you.'

I rest my head against the leather, tapping thumbs to the tablet case on my lap. I should've brought my book down with me too.

The overhead speakers ping with an announcement. 'Good morning, flyers. On behalf of American Airlines, we'd like to thank you for choosing us to get you from New York City to Sacramento. We're closing the cabin door and ask all passengers be seated for our in-flight safety announcements commencing shortly.'

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up when she places the phone down. The displeasure of having an aisle seat really starts to bug me now. I flip open the tablet resting in my lap, light from the screen settling on my face when I open the news app. A video starts to play on its own, shaky and disorientated as it tries to capture chaos within a clear frame. Newport Nightmare: two dead and one in serious condition from Allosaurus attack.

'You good?' Alex says.

'Yeah...' I say, tone entirely unconvinced. My body shifts uncomfortably in the leather seat, feeling all too exposed beside the aisle, desperately pretending to read the article.

'You cold?' he asks. 'I bought another jacket if you want it.'

'It's alright,' I assure. 'Really'

Alex's concern softens into sympathy when he puts it together, and it saddens me to feel the anger that it entertains. 'Hey... it's totally safe, alright?' he says quietly. Worry softens into doe-eyed knowing, fingertips resting over my forearm. 'It's a red eye flight... it's practically half empty too. If there was anyone to be wary of, we would've been confronted by them at the airport.'

'I know,' I say. It was both the logical and correct answer. The flight would be lifting off the ground before the sky tinged blood orange, carrying a small amount of perfectly ordinary people trying to make their way to aspects of their lives. Just as we were.

And yet, my arms were rigid with unease. I click out of the story, opening up a better headline. There isn't many to choose from.

'I'm glad we're going out to see them,' I say, to distract myself more than anything with something good. My chest starts to go right with the realisation that this was definitely and adamantly happening.

'Me too,' he agrees.

The pre-recorded message starts to crackle from the speakers. 'Before we fly out to your destination, there are a few things you need to know...'

When I catch him staring out to the darkened runway once more, I quietly slip the tablet closed, tilt my head past the chair. I run my eyes down the low lit aisle, quickly glancing over on every seat in sight. The plane starts to whir, slowly breaking away from the airport deck.

'In the event of unprecedented air traffic, we ask passengers to calmly remain in their seats. Our captains keep track of all the friendly faces we now share our skies with...'

Every single seat behind me is empty.

'Only in regional town California are you gonna find something like this,' Alex laughs; even harder when he glances at my mild mortification to see the car rental place an extension of a hardware store.

'Oh this can't be right,' I breathe, peering into the window.

'It was the cheapest deal that wasn't airport rental,' he laughs. 'It was bound to be a bit dodgy.'

Sacramento was cold, miserable and cloudy; from airport to outskirts. The store that had closed ahead of the long weekend was no exemption; empty aisles lined with cans of paint and display walls of tile samples. Alex was squinting at his phone, scrolling through the confirmation email. 'Take key from under mat... unlock P.O. box to left of store front.'

Surely enough, a rickety old letterbox was fastened against the wall. 'There's no way.'

Alex peels the thatched mat away from the ground. A tiny bronze key lay between a groove of concrete. I couldn't help but laugh alongside him at the absurdity of such utter stupidity.

'A public sidewalk in the outskirts of Sacramento,' I say. 'Where the hell did you find this listing?'

Grinning, Alex takes the key over to the letterbox, wedging it into the lock and swinging the flap open. A thick yellow envelope drops into his hand, the sound of a larger set of keys inside. I turn to the row of large four wheel drives parked along the front of the shop. One of them screamed the distinction of a well-loved rental car, the windows faded with scratches and bumper adorned with faded stickers.

'Please return keys in the same places and ensure tank has adequate gas,' Alex reads aloud. 'Call if any concerns... thank you for blah blah blah... happy weekend travels...'

I frown. 'Call who?'

He squints at the bottom of the paper. 'A... Mr. Paul Kirby of Oklahoma from his personal cellphone number as listed below.'

The owner lived interstate. My head starts to shake in disapproval. 'What a weirdo,' I conclude, Alex wavering the lock of the car.

I unravel the map we'd purchased on our last trip out here as he stacks our bags into the back seat, flipping it the right way up. 'I think we just head straight for an hour once we get on the eighty...'

Alex pops the door open. 'Two if you drive.'

They'd mentioned the snow over the phone, but it was another thing to see it in person. The coverage of it—smothering the road and grass and tops of the trees—it was almost unsettling. The closer we got to the unmarked turn off that was their driveway, the thicker it sat over the landscape.

'I didn't realise they got so much of it out here this time of year,' Alex admits.

I peer over the dashboard towards the sky, marbled with miserable layers of gray. Tiny flakes of it float aimlessly towards the ground, littering the rusty bonnet of our rental. The thought of how cold it must get out here in these conditions made my stomach churn, and fuck, both of us were New Yorkers.

Peaks of the Nevada Valley start to make themselves known through the clouds, forests patching out a little between clearings. We pass a national park, cars and caravans banked up by the entrance gates as people scratched their heads wondering if the weather was worth braving.

Cars still pepper the side of the road as we drive away. Some of them pulling away, others parked indefinitely. A maroon-coloured Royce was parked amongst a clearing, vacant of a passenger.

With a California number plate and Sunrio bumper sticker.

My heart skips a beat. 'Slow down.'

'What is it?'

Could it be?

'That's his car.'

'What?'

'Pull over a sec,' I ask of him, unclipping my seatbelt.

The rental car bubbles over the snowy gravel, pulling up to a stop. 'Who's car?'

I pop the door stumble down from the chair, the icier remote winds stinging any bare skin showing through my layers. I shove my hands deep in my pockets, trudging over the snow.

'Laura!'

My wandering eyes hadn't let me down. Peering into the window, a stash of old flannels and a Maisie-sized parker were stuffed under the back seats. Alex, lips already quivering, walks towards me.

'It's their car,' I say, squinting against the wind.

'What the hell is it doing out here?' Alex asks me, clouds of condensation tingling in his breath.

The wind ushers flyaways over my forehead when I gaze down the stretch of land ahead of us both. Mountains glistening with thin layers of snow stand rugged in the pale skyline, howling miserable silence back to us. Still, distance ebbs of activity were woven between it. Birds chirping. Leaves rustling. Footsteps surely wouldn't be further beyond. It had to be the valley he'd been hammering on about whenever he'd called over last several weeks. Relatively fresh footprints trail from his car down a hiking trail concealed under snow. It pulled at my heartstrings; how much I had missed him since the last time we were out here. How much I had to tell him; all these mundanities that became exciting to recall when you had somebody tell you how proud they were of you.

'... I'm gonna go find him,' I tell Alex.

Eyebrows are raised into the stratosphere when I turn back to him. '... Just so we're clear ...'

'You're questioning whether a car branded with a Sunrio bumper sticker is Owen's?'

Alex swishes the keys around his index finger, swivelling on his heel with a quiet sigh. He fetches my phone and water bottle from the passenger seat, walking back to toss them my way. He eyes me with that look of how he'd prefer if I called him before any emergency services if I find myself in strife.

'Don't get adventurous,' he says.

'Wouldn't dream of it.'

With a hesitant look, he climbs back into the car, revving it up and slowly creeping back onto the road. The engine settles into the silence, leaving me be with the bitter wind and movement of the forest ahead. A part of me knows that asking of him to leave me on the side of the road to go solo venturing in the woods was like asking him to shove me down a flight of stairs. He hated it.

But the only thing he hated more than seeing me hurt was standing in my way.

I tuck my phone into my jacket pocket, bending down to the footprints. The boot size and imprint had Owen written all over it. I fill the steps with my own, starting down the path.

It's slightly inclined and terribly bumpy, but my knees were once used to such a thing. The trees are so high I had to crane my neck for visibility, twigs and snow and mushrooms and ferns nipping at my ankles on the overgrown path.

I creep further down, passing bare trees, using their arms for balance when the snow gets a little slippery. The first steps are tentative with my stupidity to leave myself out here alone, but I'd lived alone among forests of different climates for more years than most. They didn't unsettle me out of fear. Only the unpredictability of what arises when respect isn't exchanged.

The soft call of a Parasaurolophus wails peacefully from the valley. It settles down like the snowflakes; slowly and gently into peaceful stillness.

I hadn't heard the call from a dinosaur in the flesh in months.

In the tranquillity of it, I also realise it was relatively close. Close enough he might hear me.

'Owen?' I test out, throat flinching from the volume.

The forest remains quietly busy. The fresh footprints were still ahead of me.

'Owen!' I call again. 'You out here?'

A sharp crack of thin wood twangs through the air, a horse softly neighing. A flicker of excitement perpetrates itself as a grin as I pick up my cautious pace.

'Owen!'

The woodland rapidly thins away as the path opens up, billowing out into a small clearing before the valley beyond it. There's more layers of beautiful, gilding snow lining the mountains. Perhaps more than I'd probably ever seen in my years spent in New York.

What an ugly contrast it was to see it as nothing but a backdrop behind a man on horseback, aiming the thick barrel of a gun square at your chest.

Hands go up before I'd even recalled where I'd placed them besides my body. Three more of them flank to his side instantly, cocking their horrible devices with one eye closed for better aim. Stars start to dance in my peripheral, legs going slack when I fumble back the way I never should have came.

'Hey!' another voice snaps. There's a stir of trotting and shifting weight along the snow.

'Don't move,' the man threatens, barrel trained on me with horrific intent.

'I'm just a hiker,' I'm saying calmly.

'Nice try,' one of the other men tuts. 'Show us your badge.'

'I don't have one,' I assure them firmly. 'I'm—'

'You keep your barrel on me if you plan on aiming it at anybody here you son of a bitch, you understand?'

The voice matches the face in my mind, perched on horseback with a length of heavy rope wrapped around a gloved hand. A few yards behind him and his horse, a juvenile Parasaurolophus snorts softly, clouds of condensation mingling around it's snout. My eyes instinctively fall back to the man and his gun, still lingering on me.

Owen doesn't even have the time to say hello with the panic in his eyes. They were wide with a kind of fear I hadn't seen in a very, very long time.

'Go back to the road,' he pleads firmly.

'I—'

'By all means,' the man insists. 'Any friend of Owen Grady's is a friend of ours.' A gold tooth glistens when he cracks a corner of his mouth open. 'And who might you be, darlin'?'

'Lau—Alice... turn around and go back to the car, please,' Owen insists. 'I'm almost done here.'

The man's eyes shoot up in surprise as my heart stops pumping blood. 'Alice...' he muses.

My mouth hangs open, tongue tingling with fear.

'She's my daughter,' Owen says.

'I see...' the man continues. 'Tagging along your old man, are you Alice?'

Owen swiftly retracts a shiny pistol from his pocket, pointing it at the ringleader's shoulder. The rest of them cock their firearms even louder, raising them in cohesion.

'Let's be smart about this,' the man says. 'We have a deal to do, don't we?'

'I'm not so sure about that,' Owen warns him.

It's then that I notice he's accompanied by two other people on horseback today. Department of Fish and Wildlife badges are clipped to their belts, glistening in the blue hue. They say nothing in return, training their weapons on the band of men.

'How much does it go for these days, bone powder?' Owen asks him. 'Last time I heard it was 600k per vile.'

Dread begins to crawl across the lining of my stomach. They were animal poachers. I keep my expression as clueless as I can.

'I've got no idea what you're talking about,' the man says smugly.

'The FBI seem to,' Owen says matter of factly. 'Or they will, at least.'

'Well... just your misfortune that courtesy of your daughter, they'll be having to wait a little while longer to find out that we only plan to preserve these animals, not harm them.' He clicks the trigger guard down. 'I think you can guess how this is gonna go, Grady. And a man of your smarts might also know that I don't bluff. Not in the slightest.'

Owen's lips are tight with dissatisfaction. Eyes dart from me to the man and his men and the agents behind him. My feet quiver against the snow, afraid to lean anymore weight on my back foot to make another sudden sound. There was no clearing or ditch I could drop behind to ensure my safety.

I knew Owen was thinking the same.

He unravels the rope from his hand, dropping it free. The man trots his horse forward, leaning over to scoop it up in his palm. He fastens it around his fingers with a triumphant grin. His men snicker in delight, Parasaurolophus starting to twist and twitch uncomfortably. It tears my heart in two. Knowing how well these animals were able to pick up on the slightest shift of energy.

'Nice to meet you, Alice,' the man tells me. His lips curl into a smile. 'Word of advice, if I may... the draw of happenstance isn't always this lucky.'

The two agents accompanying Owen give him and knowing glance, Parasaurolophus falling into step alongside the man's horse as they trail away. The breath I'd held onto finally dispels when Owen dismounts the horse with a nod, handing the reigns over to the agents who clearly intended to follow the poachers for the remainder of the path.

'What are you doing here,' he hisses, a thick gloved hand tugging at my arm a little too harder than he'd probably meant to.

I was lost for words as the band of men slowly disappear into the treeline, as if this encounter had never happened. 'Alex and I we... he's going away for a work trip and... we just thought we'd come out and visit.'

'Without letting us know?'

'We... we couldn't,' I say, a little dumbfounded. 'You know that.'

Owen exhales a sharp, exhausted breath between his teeth, the adrenaline billowing out of him like a balloon as hands go to his knees.

'Are you okay?' I ask him.

'Are you okay?' he asks me as his answer.

'Besides having several loaded guns trained on me, fresh as a daisy...' I say, putting a hand on his back. 'How often are those poachers out here watching you?'

A gun shot cracks through the air, someone having aimed their pistol at the sky. I flinch morbidly, patting down my back pocket for a pocket knife that had to be left in my bedside drawer back home.

Owen's posture goes rigid, pulling my arm into his. 'Go,' he warns. I dart back up the snowy path, ears ringing. At this speed, without the distraction of being infatuated by the nature around you; the car was barely a minute away. He fumbles for the keys.

'You called me Alice...' I stupidly say, reaching for the door handle. Now was far from the time. Though I couldn't say it was my fault, the words had ricocheted through my head the second he'd said it.

He doesn't answer me. I'd barely sunk into the seat before he tears away from the side of the highway, passenger door slamming shut beside me. He drops the pistol onto the dashboard, slamming his boot onto the accelerator as hard as he could. My fingertips grasp for the headrest behind me, bare bone trees funnelling past us as we sped away from the valley.

After a minute of gut wrenching speed, he peers into the review mirror, slowly recoiling his foot from the break.

'I think you've lost them,' I say breathlessly, taking off my knit hat to run a hand through my hair.

He rolls the car to a clunky stop, hauling the gear stick up. Before I can ask where he'd taken us now, he reaches over and plants a kiss to the side of my head, pulling my shoulders into an embrace. It's instantaneous; the way I cling back at such a surprise. The warmth overwhelming my heart with comfort and glossing over my eyes. We stay like this for a long time, the snow pattering over the bonnet.

I pull back. When I do, my eyes settle on the age that had infiltrated his face from the last time I saw him. The kind that thinned out a hairline and weathered the skin where it once glowed.

'We need to talk,' I say.

His car rumbles erratically along the long stretch of overgrown driveway going directly through a patch of forest, coming to a stop when the cabin clearing comes into view. A thin veil of snow lines the roof, smoke coughing it's way through the tiny chimney.

'You cleared back more trees,' I note, peering up at them.

'Yeah, we did,' he says, grown tired from the thought. 'Probably too many if I'm being honest.'

A bright head of red hair stands at the top of the porch. She'd cut it a little shorter again, and tried her luck at curling it too. I dart from the passenger seat as she clambers down the stairs; so desperate to see her that I don't shut the door behind me.

'Oh my...' Claire drops the chunk of firewood in her hands, striding up to me with open arms. We almost topple with the impact, eyes closing with relief.

She plants a kiss on the side of my head just above where Owen's hand landed, frigid hands scented with faint notes of smoke holding my face. 'Is New York getting that miserable, is it?'

We laugh, her beautiful green eyes that were so much brighter amongst the snow pooling into mine, and I take the chance to hug her again. Clinging even tighter, ignoring my limbs numb from the cold. She was warm and safe. That was all that mattered.

'We missed you sweetie,' Claire murmurs. 'So so much.' She pulls back to admire me again, smoothing down my hair and brushing flakes of snow from my eyebrows.

'I'm sorry we couldn't call,' I say.

'You did the right thing,' she says, rubbing my shoulders. 'We're just happy to see you both again, okay?'

She nods assuredly, to which I mimic in return. 'Did Alex fill you in on everything?'

'He has,' she says with a small smile. 'He's with Maisie now if you wanna go see her.'

Claire speaks a moment too soon. The cabin door flies open with a rickety bang. Maisie Lockwood—long brunette hair sprawled across her cheeks—beams at me brightly. Even from here, I could tell her beloved khaki jacket had an entirely new array of colourful patches from their camping trips away to national parks.

'Laura!' she squeals, hurrying down the wooden steps and sprinting my way.

'Hey superstar!' I exclaim. She crashed into my ribs, squeezing my sides with an enormous embrace. 'Oh my gosh!'

She'd grown so much since our last venture out here. I barely had to hunch myself forward to embrace her back.

'I can't believe you're here!' she exclaims.

'Well... we wanted it to be a surprise,' I joke.

The car door behind me clips shut, Owen's jacket draped over his arm. He cracks a smile when he sees Maisie. 'Hey kiddo,' he says warmly, holding out a hand. Maisie grins, strutting over to greet it with the same handshake he'd taught me at that age.

'Sorry I'm late,' he adds with a hug.

Maisie sniffs the air repulsively, scrunching her nose together. 'Ugh, you smell like horses,' she admits, turning back to me and taking my hand in hers. 'Wait until you see my new film camera. It's got six interchangeable lenses for different colours and time of day. Even a night setting.'

I squeeze it again. 'Be right in,' I assure her. 'Just gonna catch up with your Mom a second.'

Maisie's face falters ever so slightly under her smile, however bright it still was. 'Okay,' she says, turning on her heels and slowly walking back towards Alex. He was fiddling with some sort of film canister, frowning as he gently shook it against his ears.

'Everything alright?' Owen is asking Claire when I turn back to them, her head resting lightly against his chest. Her face had faltered into a sad grimness that stung to watch.

'She went into town again,' she sighs.

Owen face falls with discouragement, as if the day couldn't get any more grim for him. He flicks his gaze over to me, guilt setting even deeper. 'Those poachers put a gun on Laura out there.'

Claire lifts her head from his shoulder, gasping in alarm. 'They what?'

We exchange another look. 'I walked up on them trying to make some kind of deal for the Parasaurolophus they caught today.' Ridiculous as that felt to say to her; a wide, beautiful plain being reduced to a stand off crammed into yards of space. 'They thought I was undercover or something.'

'Jesus,' she hisses, swatting Owen on the arm. 'I told you those men were more dangerous than you thought. You shouldn't be out there after today.'

'Oh I don't plan on it,' he assures, tossing the last of the rope in his hand to a pile of random junk on the ground. 'Thank God they didn't follow us here all things considering.'

Claire looks at me with guilt. She had that look about her to tell me that many times, she'd warned Owen about those men, and every time, he'd insisted he had it under control. 'Are you okay?'

'You know me,' I shrug with a small smile. 'Nothing I haven't seen.'

Claire frowns unconvincingly. 'Still doesn't make it right,' she says sternly, rubbing at his arm before holding a cold hand out to me. I take it, lacing my frigid fingers through hers.

'I'll talk to her tonight,' Owen assures her, trailing behind us as we head up the cabin steps.

'Oh joy,' Claire sighs under her breath.

Maisie and Claire had been in bed for an hour before I decide to go out there.

We'd been preparing marshmallows when Maisie had stormed inside, slamming her bedroom door shut behind her. Owen's talk hadn't gone well, faithful to Claire's premonition. I thought best to give her some space to be angry, because that's what I'd wanted at that age when Owen had gotten on every last one of my nerves. We'd eaten chargrilled sugar in relatively small silence, occasionally laughing about something.

But I knew Owen. He never left a fire unattended. Not until it was reduced to coals. He'd be outdoors until the crack of dawn if need be.

He doesn't look up when he hears the door quietly creak open, my boots flattening against the snow. The firelight made the trees stretch magnificently into the clouded sky, powerful and all-knowing. I'd always loved that about Nublar's jungles. I wonder if it reminded him of it, too.

'You'd think it would dispel quicker in this weather,' he says to me, shaking his head.

'Or you could try leaving it for a change,' I say, quietly sitting beside him. 'Never too late for new habits.'

'That'll be the day, Hoskins,' he says, and we laugh tiredly. The fire was on its last legs.

'If you're out here to ask me about Maisie,' he says, sighing a little. 'No, it did not go well.'

I lace my hands together, gently leaning forward. 'I gathered that from her storming into her room.'

Owen closes his eyes, shaking his head. 'I'm terrible with this stuff.'

'You are,' I agree. 'But this time you've got more experience of what it was like to manage me at that age.'

'It's surprisingly very different, I'm finding.'

'... Yes and no.'

A direction was slowly starting to form. I swallow down the paranoia and criticism wallowing amongst my body. 'When I said earlier,' I prompt. 'That we need to talk.'

Owen stiffens a little. It strikes me down with a bout of guilt, but I keep going. 'I don't mean to pile onto the daughter dilemma, but...'

I want to clear my throat, bounce my knee and fiddle my fingertips against my palms. I want to get up and sprint for the forest until I'm immersed in the pitch black. 'I didn't want to come out here, Owen.'

He raises his eyebrows, blowing out a breath. 'I'm gonna take that as a compliment.'

I twinge with a microscopic smile, patting his knee. 'Not like that.'

The perfect words seem impossible to curate. They were so fragile. Never once spoken aloud between us when they should have been.

'Alex thinks... and he's right... that I've been off since... well... you know when,' I shift my weight a little, that first night amongst the New World four years ago replaying itself over like it was last week. 'And maybe... talking about things we haven't really ever discussed might help.'

'Like what?'

I shrug. 'That's where I'm hoping you can tell me.'

Owen contemplates it, nods quietly. Amber firelight flicks in his eyes and casts shadows over his face. 

'It's affecting me,' I say blatantly, braced for the small bout of silence that follows. 'Not knowing about my life before the park. My relationship, my friendships, work, everything... I get dismissive that a big part of me is missing when it might not have to be.'

I look down to the tiny bowl of marshmallows in my lap. 'I know... I know you both have Maisie now and I respect that she's come with similar challenges... but...'

I run out of words at that point. I don't know how else best to ask without blatantly doing so. What happened to my parents? Who of me is left? How close was I to normality if my Uncle hadn't been so horrible in letting me make my own choices?

I watch him shift his weight, the déjà vu crossing it entirely.  As thought he were finally here; this conversation he'd thought about having every now and again for as long as he could remember. 'There's a lot I was left in the dark about...' Owen eventually says. 'But there's also stuff I can't tell you.'

'What do you mean?'

He grimaces. 'It's complicated.'

'You think I don't know that?'

'I know you do,' he agrees. 'But your Uncle... when you started staying with me, and I would ask about what I needed to know in case you asked...'

'He refused to tell you anything,' I say. I don't know I was shocked to think he would be capable of such a thing. 'I figured as much.'

His moustache starts to twitch and frown in contemplation. 'I don't know much about your folks, Laur,' he says honestly. 'And I never met them at any point beforehand.'

I stab my stick amongst the red coals. I couldn't remember, nor did I know, how frequently Dad had gone to Nublar up until he died. I had no memory nor idea if my Mom ever went herself.

'... Your Uncle didn't want me knowing about them, because he didn't want you to. That was his mindset. And he went above and beyond to keep it that way.'

My mind starts to reel with said measures. The thoughts of him burning papers, deleting files, cutting of ties and contacts. He had wanted me all to himself so not to run the risk of me getting in the way of any plans. Doing his part in pressing my memories flat against a part of my mind that I would never reach. All I might've needed was a single memory to make myself curious.

And thank god I'd given myself one.

'Today at the valley,' I say quietly. 'You called me Alice.'

Owen doesn't reply. Face stagnant in the firelight.

'... The only thing I really remember about what it was like before the park... was that I had an Aunt named Alice.'

Owen closes his eyes regrettably. My stomach flickers. '... What do you know about her?' I ask.

'I should have used a different name,' he admits. 'It's my go-to for Maisie when we go camping because she loves—'

'Alice in Wonderland,' I finish. 'My Aunt used to read me those books.'

I'd caught him clean in the lie. Legs wound around delicate slivers of spiderweb, unable to move away.

'Maybe I'm going out on a limb here,' I suggest. 'But you've obviously been thinking about telling me something if that name is on the forefront of your mind when you look at me.'

Alex and Claire must've talked, but I don't mention that. I don't think I need to.

'What do you know about her?'

Owen hangs his head.

'I can't...' he says.

'I'll be okay,' I assure. 'Whatever it is, I can handle it.'

'No, Laura...' he says, sitting up straighter. 'When I said that there's things I can't tell you... this is one of them.'

I'm silent as I watch him exhale a heavy sigh.

'And it's for your own protection.'

A horrible, jagged lump starts to well in my throat. '... Are you serious?'

'It's complicated, Laura,' he says. 'Well beyond us two. And well before I... well... unofficially adopted you to keep you away from him.'

'How can anything be complicated enough that you can't sit down with me and tell me at the very least, and for starters, whether the only family I've got left is dead or alive?'

'Because I— after to— I just can't.'

'You just can't.' My eyes start to well. 'That's all you can give me?'

He's quiet again.

'As the only Dad I've ever had... you'd rather keep the secrets of dead people than give your daughter a chance to move on?'

'I wish things could be different for you, Laura,' Owen says. 'But the world we created only made that side of our lives more dangerous.'

'Again, how can anything, any man be so dangerous that I can't even be given a photograph, or a story, anything at all that might fill in the gaps?'

'Because I made a promise to someone a very long time ago in your best interest,' he concludes. 'And it just so happened that because of your Uncle's actions, I was left with nothing to give you...' He stabs at the fire, voice so quiet I could barely hear him. 'Not even Claire was able to find anything when she became the park's operator.'

I swipe furiously at my eyes. The anger inside of me was scorching. Not even anger. Betrayal. The kind I couldn't direct at him. 'I'm going to bed.'

'Hey,' he says before I can start to walk. He hauls himself up from the wooden stall, holding his arms out. I shouldn't take them. I should swat them back down to his sides and storm away.

But that was a mindset I'd lived by in youth. All the fearlessness and bravery I'd had that wasn't hard headed like it used to be. Nowadays, I hated conflict. Not once had I gone to bed in a fight since I'd had Alex. Perhaps it was because there was no room in my head for it, nor my heart. Those places were occupied with the "what if's" and "could have beens." The faint optimism that the last fraction of my family was still out there—head above water and kicking against the current of these companies.

'I deserve to know, Owen,' I tell him.

'Yes you do,' he replies quietly.

'Please think about it,' I say, peeling away from him. 'Because every day from now on, I'm living knowing that you're keeping things from me. And that won't change until you tell me.'

I tap a hand to his cheek. 'Have a good sleep.'

I feel his eyes on my back when I trail up darkened steps of the cabin, quietly shutting the door behind me. Claire was fast asleep on the trundle mattress by the ash ridden fireplace, candlelight slipping through their bedroom door.

When I push it open, Alex had fallen asleep sitting up. His laptop slipped from his lap, paperwork still pinched between his fingers. It was far from an abnormality with him if we ever went to bed at seperate times. I ever so slowly gather them up, placing it on his suitcase.

When I take the glasses from the bridge of his nose, he stirs a little. Blinks awake when the cold pads of my fingertips are pressed against his cheeks, holding his face. Ridden with unshaven skin and curly strands of hair beside his eyes.

'Your hands are freezing,' he mutters groggily.

'There is no way you got enough reception out here to be falling asleep whilst working,' I whisper with a grin.

He chuckles softly in amusement. 'I didn't,' he says, eyes intently meeting mine. 'I was awaiting up for you and dozed off.'

'... I told you not to do that.'

He shrugs. 'I couldn't sleep... and I remembered I had to ask you about something.'

I raise a curious eyebrow. 'Ask me what?'

'It can wait until the morning now, it's late,' he replies dismissively. 'How'd it go with him?'

I grimace.

His face sinks with disappointment. My head falls heavy on his shoulder, lips in my hair. I was so angrily numb that my eyes were totally devoid of tears. He gently shuffles down under the covers, taking me with him as he pulls the duvet up. He blows out the candle on the beside table, plunging us into the dark as we settle into stillness.

'Do you wanna talk about it?'

'Not really.'

His fingertips stroke the top of my head. My eyes start to adjust to the small glow of dark blue from the window, watching small flecks of snow stick to the glass. A small part of wishes he'd tell me it'll be okay. How sad that I'd find myself in a state where I couldn't believe it for myself. With not even a slight notion or sliver of hope to any conclusion.

I didn't doubt there was a reason why Owen couldn't tell me anything about my family—my Aunt in particular. A threat. A blackmail. A secret. That island and its parks couldn't have functioned without them, especially not whilst Jurassic World had been built. It was the currency that kept the ventures rolling in and the power statuses secured. The kind of power me or Alex or Owen or even Claire Dearing would never see in our lifetimes.

The blame, as it always has and always will, falls on the headstones of men who hadn't cared before they fell below ground.