Isla Sorna Srvival Chapter 3

Like I've previously stated, this series is not on a set schedule. I was on the desktop computer and figured why not.

Miss Chapter 2? Follow the link provided.

http://www.jurassicworldnews.com/community/forums/topic/39854

Shelter

The last Velociraptor jumped at me. I was ready to swing my shotgun at it. I didn't think it would help much, but I won't go down without a fight. Mid leap, we heard a boom. The Velociraptor dropped dead. I looked for the source, and there was no one around. I looked down. I think Desert Eagle had a dud round. It didn't ignite right away. It couldn't have ignited at a better time though.

Bryce picked up the handgun. I told him to unload it and give it to me. He did, and I handed him the shotgun and some ammunition. He loaded it, and I looked at the handgun.

"What happened?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

I stuck my finger into the chamber area and felt around. I felt the firing pin, the extractors, the chamber, everything. Nothing felt quite right. It felt like powder remnants. Everything was sticky. God this thing needed to be cleaned.

"This thing needs a good cleaning, that's what's wrong with it."

"Dude, I know you. You always clean your guns when you're done with them."

"Apparently the captain doesn't. Well, didn't."

"What do you mean?"

"Found the captain washed up on shore about a hundred metres from where I found you. He drowned, didn't need the gun, figured I could make use of it."

"Yeah, that sounds like you."

"We're going to survive. Wether or not we take supplies from the dead, we're going to survive."

"I guess. Seems kind of wrong though, doesn't it?"

"Kind of. We'll have time to feel bad later."

"Whatever you say."

We walked down the beach, looking for more survivors. We didn't find any, so we decided to make a shelter. We found a tree that was fairly tall, and climbed up it. It would make a perfect shelter. We took some rubber from the inflatable rafts and made it into a roof. We used some of the wooden benches that washed up as a floor. Within a few hours, it was a decent shelter.

"Alright, we're done. Now what?"

"Keep an eye out for survivors, and dinosaurs."

"Alright Shaggy. What are you doing?"

"Cleaning this damn handgun. She's going to work like new when I'm done."

"You sure?"

"Hell yeah. Want a rifle? It's got a thermal scope, help you see in the dark.

"Sure."

I handed Bryce the rifle, a McMillan Tac-50.

"Holy shit man, this thing is bloody heavy."

"It's a .50 calibre sniper rifle, what were expecting?"

"I don't know, a 7.62 or maybe a .338. Why the hell did you drag this chunk of steel with you."

"Don't know how long we're going to be here. If we're longer than what our rations last us, we may need all the firepower we can get."

"Are you suggesting we hunt the dinosaurs?"

"If it comes down to it, yes."

"Is that legal?"

"Don't know, and don't care."

"Yeah, that's you alright."

"Hopefully we won't have to though."

"Hopefully. Just wondering, how far is this thing dialled in for?"

"About seven or eight hundred yards. I'd have to look at the turret."

"Alright. Cool if I adjust to one or two hundred yards?"

"Dial it down to about four fifty, you'll get a flatter trajectory."

"How do I do that?"

"See the numbers on the turret?"

"Yeah. There's a thing that says one quarter at one hundred yards. What's that mean?"

"That means, at one hundred yards, one click will move the crosshairs a quarter inch."

"Alright. This turret on the side is at eight hundred."

"The rifle's sighted in for eight hundred yards then."

"I get it. So I just have to turn this turret up top a few clicks, and then it'll be sighted in for a hundred yards?"

"Not quite. One click is a quarter inch at one hundred yards. That's a half inch at two hundred, an inch at three hundred, two inches at four hundred, and so on. Look at the dope chart on the side of the butt and you'll see all the information you need."

"Dope chart? I could go for a joint right about now."

"Shut up. I don't know why it's called that, but it gives the necessary adjustments. I could go for one too though."

"Got it. That's pretty cool."

"Thanks, made it myself."

"That explains why I can barely read it."

"Shut up."

I've never had the best handwriting. A third grader could do better. That doesn't matter though. Bryce could read my handwriting and made the necessary adjustments and scoped out the area while I cleaned the handgun. Bryce didn't see anything, but he continued watching.