Jurassic Park - Crichton Michael - Страница 29

"I'm sure," Malcolm said. "But if one of these compys were to escape from the island, to get away.

"They can't get away."

"I know that, but just supposing one did…"

"You mean like the animal that was found on the beach?" Wu said, raising his eyebrows. "The one that bit the American girl?"

"Yes, for example."

"I don't know what the explanation for that animal is," Wu said. "But I know it can't possibly be one of ours, for two reasons. First, the control procedures: our animals are counted by computer every few minutes. If one were missing, we'd know at once."

"And the second reason?"

"The mainland is more than a hundred miles away. It takes almost a day to get there by boat. And in the outside world our animals will die within twelve hours," Wu said.

"How do you know?"

"Because I've made sure that's precisely what will occur," Wu said, finally showing a trace of irritation. "Look, we're not fools. We understand these are prehistoric animals. They are part of a vanished ecology-a complex web of life that became extinct millions of years ago. They might have no predators in the contemporary world, no checks on their growth. We don't want them to survive in the wild. So I've made them lysine dependent. I inserted a gene that makes a single faulty enzyme in protein metabolism. As a result, the animals cannot manufacture the amino acid lysine. They must ingest it from the outside. Unless they get a rich dietary source of exogenous lysine-supplied by us, in tablet form-they'll go into a coma within twelve hours and expire. These animals are genetically engineered to be unable to survive in the real world. They can only live here in Jurassic Park. They are not free at all. They are essentially our prisoners."

"Here's the control room," Ed Regis said. "Now that you know how the animals are made, you'll want to see the control room for the park itself, before we go out on the-"

He stopped. Through the thick glass window, the room was dark. The monitors were off, except for three that displayed spinning numbers and the image of a large boat.

"What's going on?" Ed Regis said. "Oh hell, they're docking."

"Docking?"

"Every two weeks, the supply boat comes in from the mainland. One of the things this island doesn't have is a good harbor, or even a good dock. It's a little hairy to get the ship in, when the seas are rough. Could be a few minutes." He rapped on the window, but the men inside paid no attention. "I guess we have to wait, then."

Ellie turned to Dr. Wu. "You mentioned before that sometimes you make an animal and it seems to be fine but, as it grows, it shows itself to be flawed…"

"Yes," Wu said. "I don't think there's any way around that. We can duplicate the DNA, but there is a lot of timing in development, and we don't know if everything is working unless we actually see an animal develop correctly."

Grant said, "How do you know if it's developing correctly? No one has ever seen these animals before."

Wu smiled. "I have often thought about that. I suppose it is a bit of a paradox. Eventually, I hope, paleontologists such as yourself will compare our animals with the fossil record to verify the developmental sequence."

Ellie said, "But the animal we just saw, the velociraptor-you said it was a mongoliensis?"

"From the location of the amber," Wu said. "It it is from China."

"Interesting," Grant said. "I was just digging up an infant antirrhopus. Are there any full-grown raptors here?"

"Yes," Ed Regis said without hesitation. "Eight adult females. The females are the real hunters. They're pack hunters, you know."

"Will we see them on the tour?"

"No," Wu said, looking suddenly uncomfortable. And there was an awkward pause. Wu looked at Regis.

"Not for a while," Regis said cheerfully. "The velociraptors haven't been integrated into the park setting just yet. We keep them in a holding pen,"

"Can I see them there?" Grant said.

"Why, yes, of course. In fact, while we're waiting"-he glanced at his watch-"you might want to go around and have a look at them."

"I certainly would," Grant said.

"Absolutely," Ellie said.

"I want to go, too," Tim said eagerly.

"Just go around the back of this building, past the support facility, and you'll see the pen. But don't get too close to the fence. Do you want to go, too?" he said to the girl.

"No," Lex said. She looked appraisingly at Regis. "You want to play a little pickle? Throw a few?"

"Well, sure," Ed Regis said. "Why don't you and I go downstairs and we'll do that, while we wait for the control room to open up?"

Grant walked with Ellie and Malcolm around the back of the main building, with the kid tagging along. Grant liked kids-it was impossible not to like any group so openly enthusiastic about dinosaurs. Grant used to watch kids in museums as they stared open-mouthed at the big skeletons rising above them. He wondered what their fascination really represented. He finally decided that children liked dinosaurs because these giant creatures personified the uncontrollable force of looming authority. They were symbolic parents. Fascinating and frightening, like parents. And kids loved them, as they loved their parents.

Grant also suspected that was why even young children learned the names of dinosaurs. It never failed to amaze him when a three-year-old shrieked: "Stegosaurus!" Saying these complicated names was a way of exerting power over the giants, a way of being in control.

"What do you know about Velociraptor? " Grant asked Tim. He was just making conversation.

"It's a small carnivore that hunted in packs, like Deinonychus, " Tim said.

"That's right," Grant said, "although the evidence for pack hunting is all circumstantial. It derives in part from the appearance of the animals, which are quick and strong, but small for dinosaurs-just a hundred and fifty to three hundred pounds each. We assume they hunted in groups if they were to bring down larger prey. And there are some fossil finds in which a single large prey animal is associated with several raptor skeletons, suggesting they hunted in packs. And, of course, raptors were large-brained, more intelligent than most dinosaurs."

"How intelligent is that?" Malcolm asked.

"Depends on who you talk to," Grant said. "Just as paleontologists have come around to the idea that dinosaurs were probably warm-blooded, a lot of us are starting to think some of them might have been quite intelligent, too. But nobody knows for sure."

They left the visitor area behind, and soon they heard the loud hum of generators, smelled the faint odor of gasoline. They passed a grove of palm trees and saw a large, low concrete shed with a steel roof. The noise seemed to come from there. They looked in the shed.

"It must be a generator," Ellie said.

"It's big," Grant said, peering inside.

The power plant actually extended two stories below ground level: a vast complex of whining turbines and piping that ran down in the earth, lit by harsh electric bulbs. "They can't need all this just for a resort," Malcolm said. "They're generating enough power here for a small city."

"Maybe for the computers?"

"Maybe."

Grant heard bleating, and walked north a few yards. He came to an animal enclosure with goats. By a quick count, he estimated there were fifty or sixty goats.

"What's that for?" Ellie asked.

"Beats me."

"Probably they feed 'em to the dinosaurs," Malcolm said.

The group walked on, following a dirt path through a dense bamboo grove. At the far side, they came to a double-layer chain-link fence twelve feet high, with spirals of barbed wire at the top. There was an electric hum along the outer fence.

Beyond the fences, Grant saw dense clusters of large ferns, five feet high. He heard a snorting sound, a kind of snuffling. Then the sound of crunching footsteps, coming closer.

Then a long silence.

"I don't see anything," Tim whispered, finally.

"Ssssh."

Grant waited. Several seconds passed. Flies buzzed in the air. He still saw nothing.

Ellie tapped him on the shoulder, and pointed.

Amid the ferns, Grant saw the head of an animal. It was motionless, partially hidden in the fronds, the two large dark eyes watching them coldly.

The head was two feet long. From a pointed snout, a long row of teeth ran back to the hole of the auditory meatus which served as an ear. The head reminded him of a large lizard, or perhaps a crocodile. The eyes did not blink, and the animal did not move. Its skin was leathery, with a pebbled texture, and basically the same coloration as the infant's: yellow-brown with darker reddish markings, like the stripes of a tiger.

As Grant watched, a single forelimb reached up very slowly to part the ferns beside the animal's face. The limb, Grant saw, was strongly muscled. The hand had three grasping fingers, each ending in curved claws. The band gently, slowly, pushed aside the ferns.

Grant felt a chill and thought, He's hunting us.

For a mammal like man, there was something indescribably alien about the way reptiles hunted their prey. No wonder men hated reptiles. The stillness, the coldness, the pace was all wrong. To be among alligators or other large reptiles was to be reminded of a different kind of life, a different kind of world, now vanished from the earth. Of course, this animal didn't realize that he had been spotted, that he-

The attack came suddenly, from the left and right. Charging raptors covered the ten yards to the fence with shocking speed. Grant had a blurred impression of powerful, six-foot-tall bodies, stiff balancing tails, limbs with curving claws, open jaws with rows of jagged teetb.

The animals snarled as they came forward, and then leapt bodily into the air, raising their hind legs with their big dagger-claws. Then they struck the fence in front of them, throwing off twin bursts of hot sparks.

The veloctiraptors fell backward to the ground, hissing. The visitors all moved forward, fascinated. Only then did the third animal attack, leaping up to strike the fence at chest level. Tim screamed in fright as the sparks exploded all around him. The creatures snarled, a low reptilian hissing sound, and leapt back among the ferns. Then they were gone, leaving behind a faint odor of decay, and banging acrid smoke.