-1994- — Dinosaur Island

“The evacuation was supposed to happen on the fifteenth,” Kellerman said. “Helicopters at dawn. We were told to destroy the specimens, wipe the databases, leave nothing behind. But your father refused. He said the animals deserved to live. He said we had no right to play God and then walk away.”

“Dr. Iris Kellerman. Chief geneticist, Ingen Site 7.” The woman lowered the crossbow—not all the way, but enough. “And I’m the reason your father is dead.” Dinosaur Island -1994-

Mercer went very still.

The raptor whined. Pressed its head against her hip. “The evacuation was supposed to happen on the

Lena felt the blood drain from her face. “Who are you?” But your father refused

Like a dog. Like a puppy. Its tail wagged once, twice, and then it let out a sound—not a roar, not a snarl, but a whine. High and lonely and afraid.

She stepped into a laboratory—beakers, microscopes, a row of incubation tanks, all dark. In the center of the room, illuminated by a single emergency light, stood a steel table. On it lay a body, preserved by some chemical process Lena didn’t understand. Her father’s body. His hands folded over his chest. His eyes closed. His plaid shirt, the same one from the photograph, still bright after all these years.