Chapter 15 - WELCOME

Isaiah hovered in the dark, brackish water at the edge of the lagoon. The taste of Amanda's blood was still thick in his mouth, a gruesome remainder of the predatory rage that had completely overridden his 15-year-old human mind.Through the parting fog, he could see them on the beach. Dozens of heavily armed United States Marines were forming a tight defensive perimeter. Dr. Alan Grant and Eric Kirby, bruised, bleeding, and trembling with shock, were being ushered into the safety of an amphibious transport.His human brain screamed at him to call out to them. To swim to the beach, put his massive head down in the sand, and beg them to save him from this biological prison. But Asset 87 knew better.He saw the heavy, anti-tank rifles the soldiers were pointing directly at the tree line. He saw the cold, clinical military discipline. If a forty-foot genetic titan suddenly breached the surf and lunged toward the survivors, the beach would become a war zone. They wouldn't see Isaiah; they would see the monster that had bitten a woman in half.With a low, mournful rumble that vibrated through the water, Isaiah made his choice. He turned his massive body around, his webbed feet propelling him silently away from the beach. He dived deep, leaving Dr. Grant, Eric, and the human world behind, and vanished back into the green hell of Isla Sorna.Three Weeks LaterThe jungle was unnaturally quiet.Ever since the Navy and the Marines had evacuated the survivors, a heavy, oppressive sense of dread had settled over Site B. Isaiah spent his days on the high riverbanks, nursing the shallow bullet wound on his shoulder and keeping a weary distance from the hyper-intelligent raptor pack that still held a violent grudge.But the peace of the wild was short-lived.The sound of massive, heavy-lift transport helicopters began to echo across the canopy. InGen had returned. But it wasn't the InGen of the past; this was a highly specialized clean-up division funded by the Masrani Global Corporation.Isaiah was tracking a small herd of Ouranosaurus when a blinding searchlight pierced the dense foliage from above. A fleet of armored capture vehicles, loaded with non-lethal heavy tranquilizer harpoons, began to encircle his territory.He fought with everything he had. He used his massive arms to flip a capture jeep. He crushed the concrete barricades they tried to box him in with. But the volume of specialized, high-grade tranquilizers was too much. As dozens of darts buried themselves in his thick hide, Isaiah's multi-ton frame grew heavy.His vision tunneled, the blue glowing stripes on his flanks fading to black. He collapsed onto the jungle floor with a dull, ground-shaking thud.The last thing he saw before slipping into the dark void of chemical sedation was the face of Dr. Henry Wu looking down at him from a safe distance, a cold, satisfied smile of scientific triumph spreading across the geneticist's face.Years Later - The Park is OpenThe sound of roaring waves was replaced by the smooth, mechanical hum of high-tech filtration systems.Isaiah woke up in a state of sensory confusion. He was no longer in the humid, chaotic wild of Isla Sorna. The air was controlled, sterile, and lacked the smell of ancient decay.He pushed his massive head above the surface of the crystal-clear water.He was in a massive, synthetic lagoon spanning several acres. Colossal concrete and reinforced steel walls towered high above him, designed to hold back a creature far larger than the ones on Site B.Isaiah swam to the edge of the viewing glass and looked out.On the other side of the high-tensile glass stood thousands of humans. They were wearing bright, colorful clothes. Children were holding plastic cups and pointing up at him with wide, awe-filled eyes. Heavy speakers were playing a rhythmic, upbeat jazz melody.A massive, digital banner hung over the stadium seating above him, flapping gently in the ocean breeze: WELCOME TO JURASSIC WORLD.Years had passed. He was no longer a sub-adult. He was a fully grown, sixty-foot-long colossus. His charcoal-grey scales were hardened, his blue stripes flared with a massive, brilliant glow, and the jagged scar across his tall sail stood as a testament to the brutal trials of his past.Isaiah's human mind reeled with the sheer, crushing reality of his situation. InGen hadn't destroyed him. They hadn't locked him away in a dark lab to be dissected.They had made him the centerpiece of Sector 4. They had integrated Asset 87 directly into Simon Masrani's dream park.He wasn't just a boy named Isaiah anymore. He wasn't just a wild monster from Site B.He was the living, breathing attraction of a functioning theme park. And as a robotic crane lowered a massive, heavy cage filled with fresh river fish into the lagoon, Isaiah opened his enormous, tooth-lined jaws, letting out a deafening roar that shook the bleachers and sent the crowd into a frenzy of terrified applause.He had survived the wild. Now, he had to survive the cage.