Isla Sorna Survival Chapter 2

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http://www.jurassicworldnews.com/community/forums/topic/39797

Survivors

I woke up face down on the beach. Somehow, I survived despite the fact that I blacked out a mile offshore. I don't know how, and I don't care. I sat up and looked around. There were rafts everywhere. Well, there were pieces of rafts everywhere. I didn't see one raft in one piece, and I didn't see anyone else. I stood up and started looking around. I couldn't be the only survivor.

I walked up and down the beach a few times, looking for any signs of life. I heard some bushes rustle, and I jumped back and pointed my shotgun towards it.

"Who's there?"

There was no answer. I know what's on this island. I'm not going to investigate a bush. With my luck, it was a Velociraptor. There was still no response, but the thing walked through the bush. I pointed my shotgun at it, but it began to talk.

"Sniper? Is that you? Go figure. The one jackass on that damn boat I hate the most, and he's the only guy still alive."

"The feeling is mutual Mark."

"How the hell did you survive?"

"Don't know to be honest. You were bitching, the raft was flipped, I swam to the surface and blacked out. Woke up on the beach and started looking for survivors. You?"

"Why do you care?"

"I don't."

"Well, some of the other guys made it too."

"Yeah? Like who?"

"Corey, Seymour, John and Calvin."

"Tweddle dumb, Tweddle dumber, Tweddle dumbest and the Peter Griffin wannabe. Great group. Stick with them and you're screwed, they've got eight brain cells between to the four of them."

"It's better than being stuck with you."

"My bad, nine brain cells between the five of you."

"Screw off."

"With pleasure."

I walked away from Mark. I'd be better off on my own anyway. Mark was a drunk. Corey, Seymour and John lived up to their nicknames, and Calvin, well, he was lazy, starting to get fat, smelled bad, and he wasn't too bright either. I'd be surprised if they would manage to survive a week. I hate them, they hate me. That's why they call me Sniper. The Captain could give them shit depending on what they called me, so they called me what my position is. I'm a Sniper.

It was a long walk up the beach, and the shotgun in my hands and sniper rifle on my back didn't help. I saw someone lying on the ground, and walked towards him. He was face down, so I rolled him over. It was the Captain. It was obvious that he had drowned. I didn't really have time to mourn, but I noticed the handgun he had holstered at his side. I needed it more than he did, so I took it, along with the extra mags and ammunition that were in his pockets.

I continued down the beach, examining the handgun. It was a Desert Eagle. Chambered for .50 Action Express, this was the second largest handgun chambering available. I slung the shotgun over my shoulder and continued walking, Desert Eagle in hand. I saw another figure lying on the beach. It looked familiar. I ran towards him, and when I got there, I saw it was my best friend.

He saw me, and he asked me what the hell happened.

"I don't know. Something caused the ship to sink. After that, I'm here."

"So, you know about as much as I do."

"Pretty much."

I offered to help him up, and he took my hand. I pulled him up, and he asked if there were any other survivors.

"Just the fab five."

"Alright Shaggy, we can do better without those jackasses."

"Yes Bryce, we can."

Shaggy was my nickname since grade 10. My hair was long, probably too long for a teenage guy. I didn't really care though. Since then, I've kept my hair shorter, but the nickname stuck. I don't really mind though. I've gotten so used to it from my friends that it's weird when they call me by my name.

"Shaggy, what the hell are those things?"

"What things?"

"Those big freaking lizards."

I turned around. There were ten of them. They were about six feet tall, around fifteen feet long, and they looked hungry. I know what these things are capable of. I need to take them out quickly. I raised the Desert Eagle, lined up the sights on the first Velociraptor, and pulled the trigger.

Nothing, not even a click. I started to panic a little. Did I forget to load it? Did I forget to chamber it? No, I would have heard the firing pin. Maybe it has a weird safety. Maybe I just didn't hear the click because I wasn't paying attention though. All I knew, was that the handgun either wasn't working right, or the bullet was a dud. I wasn't going to bother finding out now.

"Dude, why aren't you shooting?"

I didn't bother answering, I just dropped the Desert Eagle and reached for my shotgun. The Velociraptors charged when the handgun hit the ground. I had my hands on the shotgun, Bryce was freaking out, the Raptors were twenty yards away from us and closing the gap. I got the shotgun off my back and raised it to my shoulder. The first Raptor was five yards away. I felt everything slow down. It was a weird feeling. I lined the sight up on the first Velociraptor. I put the front sight on the Raptor's chest.

I pulled the trigger. One down. I pumped the shotgun, a Remington 870 Tactical, and took the next shot. With the nine rounds the shotgun held, I took out nine Raptors. The tenth one was coming fast, and I knew I didn't have time to load another shell and take the shot, so I got ready to use the stock as a weapon. The Raptor jumped. I don't think hitting it with the stock is going help.