Jurassic World: The Failure Part 1

So I leave, and the forums look like a morgue? Anyway, it's good to be back.

Jurassic World: The Failure

Part 1

It started as any ordinary day. I woke up, got dressed, and went to my job. I lived on Isla Nublar. It was a beautiful island. It was always warm, there was always a calm breeze, and the island was always peaceful. The herbivores were lazily drinking from the river that flowed through every paddock, the carnivores were sleeping or cooling off in the river or under a large tree, and the guests were taking pictures.

I walked through the crowd. It was the busy time of year. Spring Break was always the busiest time of the year here at Jurassic World. The kids were out of school, and in the north, it was still winter. I smiled as I thought back to the many Canadian winters I had been through. The winter of 2013-2014 was a bad one in my area. With the windchill, almost -40 degrees celcius.

As I got to the visitor centre, my boss told me that I wasn't needed right now, so I could go to the range for a bit. Down in the south end of the park, beyond where the visitors are permitted to go, and away from the labs, there was a building. It was twenty feet high at the most. That was my armoury. There were all kinds of weapons, ranging from assault rifles to automatic shotguns to anti material sniper rifles. This was the room I dreamed of when I was a teenager. Now that I have it, I'm never bored. I have my choice of any weapon to use, from the M16 assault rifles and Mossberg 500 shotguns that are standard in all the park's bunkers, to a few of the rarer weapons in my collection, such as my Franchi SPAS 12 and DSR-50 sniper rifle. Despite the awesome collection I have, my go to gun is still the little, beat up .22 I've had since I was 14. It was a Savage Mark 2 model TRR. It was a tactical rifle. It came with a tactical stock and a tri-rail. Since I obtained it, I added a Tasco 6-24x42 scope, and a Caldwell bipod. The one other modification I made was getting a sheet of Mossey Oak break up camo, which was essentially tape, and made the black stock camouflage.

I grabbed the TRR, a box of bullets, and the two mags I had, a five and a ten round. I went up the flight of stairs and lied down on the roof. I started shooting at a knot in a tree trunk. The rifle was as accurate as it has always been, hitting a dime at over a hundred yards. I had been out for about a half hour when I got a call. The boss told me to be at the visitor centre in twenty minutes. No problem, I'll just clean my rifle and then catch a monorail to the visitor centre.

I got onto the monorail. It was like a subway. Loud, crowded, smelled funny. Looking at the people around me, I remembered why I've never been too fond of public transport. Buses, trains, planes, boats, if weird people could get on them, I didn't like it. It was probably because I grew up on a farm. I was never subjected to this stuff as a child, or a teenager for that matter. As the monorail went down the track to the visitor centre, I remembered my past. When my family took a vacation, we never took a plane. We always piled into our truck, a 2006, Ram 1500 mega cab, and we drove. We would drive to Florida in two days, stay for three, Tennessee in eight hours, stay for a day, and Frankenmuth, Michigan in four hours, stay for a night, and then come home.

When the monorail arrived, I quickly got off, wanting to see what the boss wanted. I quickly reached the staff room, and the boss told me take a seat. "Just waiting for a few more employees Shaggy." I rolled my eyes. Shaggy, that was my nickname since my first year of high school. My friends called me Shaggy because of my hair. It was long and dirty blonde, much like the hair of the Scooby Doo character Shaggy Rogers.

Ten minutes past before the rest of the staff arrived. It was the usual business meeting. We were performing a security update. It wasn't big, but we had more staff watch over everything. The boss went over what we were all doing for the week. During spring break, the research was halted to prevent teens from getting drunk and doing stupid stuff that could result in law suits. The researchers would watch security cameras, the handler would walk around doing their rounds, the security guards would need to cover a larger area, and my job was to monitor the south section of the island. The boss told us all to get to work, and he told me that I knew what to do. This was always something I looked forward to.

I took the first monorail back to the south, and then walked to my armoury. I opened the doors, put on my favourite camo pants, a camo jacket, a camo ball cap, and face paint. After getting dressed for what I was doing, I looked at my guns. This was always the hardest decision for me. I looked, determining what to use. I could use my DSR, or my M82A1, or my TAC 50, maybe even my AW50. I couldn't decide which one to use, but I wanted to use a .50 BMG. I ended up grabbing my AS50, a ten round, semi automatic rifle. I left the building, and I took one of the staff trails to my post. I climbed up a large tree. It was about a hundred feet high, and the perfect sniper post. My coworkers always thought it was unnecessary to bring one of my snipers, but I didn't care. I rarely used any of the guns on the job. That's a good thing.

I watched the area through my binoculars. It was the usual spring break antics. I was stuck watching the beach. That's where the idiots hang out. Through a brief look, I saw four guys smoking pot, three drinking beer, two guys with an obvious spray tan and too much sunscreen arguing, and a guy following a group of girls. I shook my head. I was never like those kids. They always did stupid things. One time, they managed to release a herbivore. I still don't know how they did it, but they did. Then again, I'd love to know how they get pot on this island, and how they get their booze. None of them look older than eighteen.

As I watched the beach, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. I looked at it with my binoculars. It was heading towards one of the drainage grates. "How cute," I thought as a few teens started walking over. "They think no one is watching them." They walked into the grate, which wasn't visible from the ground, but I'm over seventy feet up in a tree. I was dark though, so I grabbed my rifle, turned on the thermal scope, and watched. They were unloading something from a dingy. Through the thermal scope, I saw something I hadn't seen with the binoculars. They appeared as a little red speck in the distance, but there was no mistaking, there were more people in the ocean. I radioed a few of the security guards, and then I shut off the thermal scope, maxed out the zoom, and took aim.

There was a boat. It was probably two, maybe three miles off shore. It was a privately owned boat. There was no paint, no logos, nothing, just white. I radioed the coast crew, and they went to check it out. Pretty soon, more guards showed up to break up several fights that broke out while I was focused on the boat. The guards told me the people on the dingy had been unloading beer. I asked what kinds there were, and the response was, "What kind wasn't there?" I wasn't surprised that they had all kinds of different drinks.

I went back to watching the beach. The fights were broken up, and I looked at the guards. There were a lot down here. I wasn't sure, but it had to be at least three quarters of our force. It was nothing new, but I was still concerned. I thought that more guards should be patrolling the rest of the park. With three quarters of the guards in one area, there was plenty of room for some damn kids to do something stupid. I scoped in on the boat again, and it was heading around the island. I wasn't sure of what it was doing, but the water crew reached it soon enough. "There's nothing but booze and drunks on this boat, and pot." Well, that's where that's coming from. Now, where is this boat from?

A few minutes went by, and I heard something else from the water crew. They had searched the boat, and they said that all the manuals and other writing were in Spanish. They said the boat is registered to someone from Columbia. I didn't know what to say. I was about to say something, but there was an explosion. I turned to face it, and the visitor centre, well, what was left, was in flames. I grabbed my radio and said, "The drug boat was a distraction. The visitor centre was just destroyed. It exploded." There was no answer, just commands being yelled as the crews turned and started coming to the island. I didn't know what to do. We've never had a terrorist attack.