LostWorld:JurassicPark,侏罗纪公园：失

jurassic park

screenplay by

david koepp

based on the novel by

michael crichton

ext. tropical lagoon - day

a 135-foot-luxury yacht is anchored just offshore in a

tropical lagoon. the beach is a stunning crescent of white

sand at the jungle fringe, utterly deserted.

isla sorna

87 miles southeast of nublar

two ship hands, dressed in white uniforms, have set up a

picnic table with three chairs on the sand and are carefully

laying out luncheon service -- fine china, silver, crystal

decanters with red and white wine.

paul bowman, fortyish, sits in a chair off to the side,

reading. mrs. bowman, painfully thin, with the perpetually

surprised look of a woman who's had her eyes done more than

once, supervises the settings of the table.

she looks up and sees a little girl, cathy, seven or eight

years old, wandering off down the beach.

mrs. bowman

cathy! don't wander off!

cathy keeps wandering.

mrs. bowman (cont'd)

cathy, come back! you can look for

shells right here!

cathy gestures, pretending she can't hear.

bowman

(eyes still in his book)

leave her alone.

mrs. bowman

what about snakes?

bowman

there's no snakes on a beach. let

her have fun, for once.

further down the beach,

cathy keeps wandering away, muttering to herself as her

parents' quarreling voices fade in the distance.

cathy

please be quiet, please be quiet

please be quiet...

rounding a curve in the beach, her parents disappear from view

behind her. a rustling sound draws her attention, and she

turns, toward where the thick jungle foliage gives way to the

sand.

a large bush, maybe twelve feet tall, is moving, its branches

swaying and shaking. curious, cathy walks up to the bush,

which abruptly stops moving.

a small, lizard-like animal, dark green with brown stripes

along its back, steps out from the bush. only about a foot

tall, it stands on its hind legs, balancing on its thick tail.

it walks upright, bobbing its head like a chicken.

cathy

well, hello there!

the animal (a compsognathus) just stares at her. cathy squats

down on her haunches.

cathy (cont'd)

what are you? a little bird or

something?

she opens her hand. she's got a handful of goldfish crackers.

cathy (cont'd)

are you hungry? you want a goldfish?

the compy bobs forward a few steps, cautiously.

cathy (cont'd)

come on. i won't hurt you.

the compy draws closer. cathy holds the cracker in the palm

of her hand. the compy gets closer still --

-- and hops numbly up onto cathy's palm. her arm dips a bit

under the weight, but it's not that heavy, and she holds it up

easily. it bobs its head, scarfs up the goldfish, and eats

it.

enchanted, cathy breaks into an enormous grin and returns her

hand, calling back over her shoulder.

cathy (cont'd)

mom! dad! you gotta come see this!

i found something!

she turns back.

thirty more compys have come out onto the sand. they're

standing there, bobbing anxiously, staring at her from a few

feet away. cathy's smile fades.

she turns her head slowly to the right. twenty more compys

have come in from that side, forming a semi-circle, bobbing

and chipping as they surround her.

cathy (cont'd)

(terrified)

what do you guys want?

back on the beach,

the table is set. mrs. bowman calls out.

mrs. bowman

cathy, sweetheart! lunch is ready!

from around the curve of the beach, a flock of birds bolts

from the jungle trees as cathy's shrill screams suddenly

pierce the air.

mrs. bowman

paul!

she takes off, running down the beach, mr. bowman leaps out of

his chair and follows, and all available deck hands race off

to help, kicking up geysers of sand behind them.

down the beach,

mrs. bowman stops dead in her tracks when she rounds the bend

in the beach. we don't see what she sees, but we hear the

frenzied squeaking of the strange compys. mr. bowman and the

hands race past her to help cathy as mrs. bowman lets loose a

horrified, slack-jawed scream, her mouth a perfect oval.

dissolve to:

int. board room - day

mrs. bowman's screaming face dissolves slowly over the

yawning face of a bored corporate executive, twenty other

executives sit around a conference table in the boardroom of a

monied corporation. all are in expensive suits, most are over

sixty. there are rows of backbenchers too, whispering in their

lawyers who sit behind their clients, whispering in their

ears. empty coffee cups and fast food containers on the table

hint that everyone's been here a long time.

a familiar voice resounds through the boardroom as we move

down the long table, pat the grim faces of the board members.

voice (o.s.)

the hurricane seemed like a disaster

at the time, but now i think it was a

blessing, nature's way of freeing

those animals from their human

confines. of giving them another

chance to survive, but this time as

they were meant to, without man's

interference.

the source of the voice is john hammond, the founder of ingen

and creator of jurassic park. but he's not in the room. his

image is on a closed circuit tv screen, which has been wheeled

up to the end of the table.

and he doesn't look good. he's terribly infirmed, propped up

in bed, his face pale and drawn, medical equipment beeping

around him.

hammond (cont'd)

there are some corporate issues that

are not about the bottom line. we

have so much still to learn about

those creatures. a whole world of

intricate, interlocking behaviors,

vanished everywhere -- except for

site b. please. let's not do what

is good for more men at the expense

at what is best for all mankind.

the chairman, seventyish, nods awkwardly to the television.

chairman

thank you, john. mr. ludlow?

he turns to peter ludlow, late thirties, a man with the

anxious look of someone who insists the buck stop on his desk.

ludlow flips open a file, pulls out a stack of black and white

eight by tens, and tosses them on the table.

ludlow

(an accent similar to

hammond's)

these pictures were taken in a

hospital in costa rica forty-eight

hours ago, after an american family

on a yacht cruise stumbled onto site

b. the little girl will be fine, but

her parents are wealthy, angry, and

very fond of lawsuits. but that's

hardly new to us, is it?

(takes a paper from the

file)

wrongful death settlements, partial

list: family of donald gennaro, 36.5

million dollars; family of robert

muldoon, 12.6 million. damaged or

destroyed equipment, 17.3 million.

demolition, de-construction, and

disposal of isla nublar facilities,

organic and inorganic, one hundred

and twenty-six million dollars. the

list goes on, gentlemen -- research

funding, media payoffs. silence is

expensive.

he's warming up. not a bad performer.

ludlow (cont'd)

this corporation has been bleeding

from the throat for four years. you,

our board of directors, have set

patiently and listened to ecology

lectures while mr. hammond signed

your checks and spent your money.

you have watched your stock drop from

seventy-eight and a quarter to

nineteen flat with no good and in

sight. and all along, we have held a

significant product asset that we

could have safely harvested and

displayed for profit. enormous

profit.

he reaches out to a model on the table and gives it a shove,

sending it sliding down the length of the table in front of

them. it's a mini-mall version of a zoo. cages hold tiny

replicas of various kinds of dinosaurs while boy scout troops

and tourists look on in wonder.

ludlow (cont'd)

enough money to wipe out four years

of lawsuits and damage control and

unpleasant infighting, enough to not

only send our stock back to where it

was but to double it. and the one

thing, the only thing standing

between us and this asset is a

born-again naturalist who happens to

be our own ceo. well, i don't work

for mother nature. i work for you.

two of his backbenchers distribute documents from a stack.

ludlow takes one and reads from it.

ludlow (cont'd)

'whereas the chief executive

officer has engaged in wasteful and

negligent business practices to

further his own personal

environmental beliefs --

whereas these practices have

affected the financial performance

of the company by incurring

significant losses --

whereas the shareholders have been

materially harmed by these losses --

thereby, be it resolved that john

parker hammond should be resolved from

the office of chief executive

officer, affective immediately.' mr.

chairman, i move the resolution be

put to an immediate vote. do i have

a second?

board member

i second the motion, mr. chairman,

please poll the members by a show of

hands.

the chairman signs heavily, feeling like a traitor. he can't

bear to look at hammond on the tv monitor.

chairman

all those in favor of ingen corporate

resolution 213c, please signify your

approval by raising your right hand.

it starts slowly, guiltily, but every hand in the room goes

up. ludlow sits back, victorious. hammond, furious, raises

his right hand, which holds a remote control, and points it at

the tv screen. it goes blank.

cut to:

ext. welder's yard - night

sparks fly out the windows and doors of a shed in the middle

of a welder's yard. scrap iron and steel lies everywhere.

somewhere inside the shed, a phone rings.

the whoosh of the arc welder shuts off. dieter stark, a big

barrel-chested man of forty or so, his face streaked with soot

and grime, steps outside with a cordless phone, a cigarette

dangling from his lips.

dieter

yeah.

he takes a deep drag while someone talks on the other end. he

smiles and blows out a cloud of smoke.

cut to:

int. new york subway - night

smoke turns into steam as a subway thunder into a station

underneath manhattan. the door whoosh open, spit out some

commuters and suck up a few more.

a tall man hurries down the platform, limping heavily, moving

as fast as he can. the subway doors begin to close, but just

before they meet --

-- the man jams a cane in between, stopping them. the man

is ian malcolm, fortyish, dressed in black from head to toe.

there's a hard wisdom in malcolm's eyes that may not have been

there's a few years ago -- he know what you think, and he

doesn't care.

int. subway car - night

malcolm finds a seat on the crowded subway car and sits down.

he looks awful. tired. weathered. he notices a curious man

across from his is staring at his. malcolm looks away. the

curious man still stares. nervy, the curious man gets up and

approaches.

malcolm

(under his breath)

shit.

the curious man sits down next to malcolm, grinning.

man

you're him, aren't you?

malcolm

excuse me?

man

the guy. the scientist. i saw you

on tv.

(conspiratorially)

i believed you.

no response from malcolm. the guy leans in even closer.

man (cont'd)

roooooarr.

malcolm

(a withering look)

i was misquoted. i was merely

speculating on the evolutionary

scenario of a lost world. i never

said i was in any such place.

he gets up and moves to another seat on the car, away from the

curious man. as he sits down, he notices two other commuters

across from him are staring at him.

he looks at them. they looks away.

he pulls the collar of his coat up tight around him. nowhere

to hide.

int. john hammond's apartment - night

a uniformed butler has a question:

butler

whom shall i tell mr. hammond is

calling?

malcolm stands in the foyer of an expensively decorated park

avenue apartment.

malcolm

ian malcolm

a door opens and a little dog comes yapping out of the back.

it bounds straight at malcolm, growling, jaws snapping. it

lunges --

-- and malcolm bats it away with one swift swing of his cane.

the dog rolls across the floor and slinks away, whining. the

butler looks at malcolm disapprovingly.

butler

not an animal lover?

malcolm

not really.

int. hammond's bedroom - night

malcolm enters a darkened bedroom. john hammond lies in the

bed we saw earlier, on the other side of the room;

medical equipment has been disguised as well as possible among

the furniture and flowers, but the sheer abundance of it tells

us that whatever has stricken him is going to win this battle.

hammond

ian! don't linger in the doorway

like an ingenue, come in, come in!

malcolm steps further into the room.

hammond (cont'd)

it's good to see you. it really is.

how's the leg?

malcolm

resentful.

hammond

when you have a lot of time to think,

it's funny who you remember. it's

the people who challenged you. it is

the quality of our opponents that

gives our accomplishments meaning. i

never told you how sorry i was about

what happened after we returned.

noticing hammond's deteriorated condition, malcolm finds it

hard to sustain anger.

malcolm

i didn't know you -- weren't well.

hammond

it's the lawyers. the lawyers are

finally killing me.

malcolm

they do have motives. why did you

want to see me? your message said it

was urgent.

hammond

you were right -- and i was wrong.

there! did you ever think you'd hear

me say that? spectacularly wrong.

instead of observing those animals, i

tried to control them. i squandered

an opportunity and we still know next

to nothing about their lives. not

their lives as man would have them,

behind electric fences, but in the

wild. behavior in their natural

habitat, the impossible dream of any

paleontologist. i could have had it,

but i let it slip away.

(pause)

thank god for site b.

malcolm just looks at him for a long moment.

malcolm

what?

hammond

(a spark in his eye)

well? didn't it all seem a trifle

compact to you?

malcolm

what are you talking about?

hammond

the hatchery, in particular? you

know my initial yields had to be low,

far less than one percent, that's a

thousand embryos for every single

live birth. genetic engineering on

that scale implies a giant operation,

not the spotless little laboratory i

showed you.

malcolm

i don't believe you.

hammond

isla nublar was just a showroom, ian,

something for the tourists, site b

was the factory floor. we built it

first, on isla sorna, eight-some

miles from nublar.

malcolm

no, no, no, no, no, no . . .

hammond

after the accident at the park, a

hurricane wiped out our facility on

site b. we had to evacuate and leave

the animals to fend for themselves.

and they did. for four years i've

fought to keep them safe from human

meddling, now i want you to go there

and document them.

malcolm

are you out of your mind? i still

have nightmares, my reputation's a

joke, my leg is shot -- you think i

need more of that?

hammond

it would be the most extraordinary

living fossil record the world has

ever seen.

malcolm

so what?

hammonnd picks up a thick file folder from the night table near

to him and open it on his lap. inside, there are memos,

charts, maps and photographs.

hammond

i've been putting this together for

over a year.

(more)

i have personal suggestions for your

entire team, phone numbers, contact

people. they won't believe you about

what they're going to see, so don't

bother trying to convince them. just

use my checkbook to get them there.

i'll fund your expedition through my

personal accounts, as such money and

equipment as you need, but only if

you leave immediately. if we

hesitate, all will be lost.

malcolm

john . . .

hammond

you'll need an animal behaviorist,

someone with unimpeachable

credentials. i believe you already

know sarah harding. she's got

theories about parenting and

nurturing among hunter/scavengers i

bet she'd be dying to prove on a

scale like this. if you convince her

to go, it'll be a major coup. when

she publishes, the scientific

community must take it seriously.

malcolm just shakes his head, flipping through the file sadly.

hammond

your documentation, you should use

forensic photographic methods,

hasselbladt still cameras, high

definition video. when the trick

photography analysts take your

evidence apart, make it impossible

for them to say there was enhancement

or computer graphic imaging. oh,

this is very important -- avoid the

island interior at all costs. stick

to the outer rim. everything you

need to know can be found there.

vindication lies on the outer rim.

malcolm gently closes the file and pushes it back to hammond.

malcolm

i'm not going, john.

hammond

(fatigue returning)

ian, you are my last chance to give

something of real value to the world.

i can't walk so far and leave no

footprints; die and leave nothing

with my name on it. i will not be

known only for my failures. and you

will not allow yourself to go down in

history as a lunatic. you're too

smart. you'e too proud. dr.

malcolm. please. this is a chance

at redemption. for both of us.

there's no time to equivocate, we

must seize it now, before --

he stops, staring over malcom's shoulder. malcom turns.

peter ludlow, still in his overcoat, is standing in the

doorway to the bedroom. he looks back and forth from hammond

to malcolm suspiciously.

ludlow

hello, uncle john. dr. malcolm.

malcolm doesn't answer. he seems to know ludlow, and dislikes

him.

ludlow (cont'd)

did i interrupt something?

malcolm turns back to hammond.

malcolm

find someone else.

cut to:

int. hammond's apartment/foyer - night

in the foyer, ludlow hands malcolm his coat, just a trifle

rudely, and shepherds him to the door.

ludlow

so, you two were just, uh, telling

old campfire stories, were you?

malcolm

do me a favor. don't pretend for a

second that you and i don't know the

truth. you can convince time

magazine and the skeptical inquirer

of whatever you want, but i was

there.

ludlow

you signed a non-disclosure agreement

before you went to the island that

expressly forbade you from discussing

anything you saw. you violated that

agreement.

malcolm

you cost me my livelihood. that on

which i relied to support my

children.

ludlow

if your university felt you were

causing it embarrassment by selling

wild stories to hard copy, i hardly

see how i am to--

malcolm

i didn't tell anything, i told the

truth.

ludlow

you version of it.

malcolm

there are no versions of the truth!

this isn't a corporate maneuver, it's

my life.

ludlow

we made a generous compensatory offer

for your injuries.

malcolm

it was a payoff and an insult. ingen

never--

ludlow

ingen is my livelihood, dr.

malcolm, and i will jealously defend

its interests. people will know what

i want them to know when i want them

to know it.

ludlow tosses something to malcolm, hard. it sails across the

foyer, upright, and malcolm reaches out and catches it with

one hand. it's his cane.

ludlow (cont'd)

don't forget that.

malcolm stares at him for a long moment. finally, he turns

and walks away.

but he does not out of the apartment. instead, he

walks directly past ludlow, crosses the living room, and steps

back into hammond's bedroom, closing the door behind him with

a determined click.

int. hammond's bedroom - night

hammond looks up, hopeful, as malcolm comes back into the room

and walks over to his bed. he reaches down --

-- and picks up the file folder.

malcolm

do you have a satellite phone?

cut to:

int. mombassa bar - day

roland tembo, late sixties, skin like leather and the diamond

hard look of a cobra, sits at a table in the middle of an

african cafe/bar in mombassa.

it's daytime and the place is half full, mostly with locals,

but there are a few obnoxious tourists too, americans on

safari who somehow found the local handout.

they're a noisy bunch, but roland tunes them out, calmly

eating his lunch and drinking a beer while he reads a book,

eyeglasses hanging low on his nose.

roland suddenly stops reading and furrows his brow. he looks

up. he sniffs the air once, then smiles and calls out a

person's name.

roland

ajay?

he turns around. ajay (ah-jay) sidhu, a wiry east indian in

his late forties, is standing behind him, caught trying to

sneak up.

ajay

(delighted)

how did you know?

roland

(taps his nose)

that cheap aftershave i send you

every christmas, you actually wear

it. i'm touched. sit down, sit

down, what brings you to mombassa?

ajay

you. tell me, roland, when was the

last time you answered your phone?

roland

last time i plugged it in, i suppose.

why?

behind them, the group of tourists, all men, laughs loudly.

one of them, the most obnoxious tourists, berates the waitress.

ajay

i got a call from a gentleman who's

going to costa rica, or thereabouts.

if he's to be believed, it's a most,

uh, unique expedition. and very

well-funded.

roland

well, i'm a very well-funded old son

of a bitch. you go.

the most obnoxious tourist bellows for the waitress. his

buddies laughs. roland throws a glance, annoyed.

ajay

but alone? we always had great

success together, you and i.

roland

just a little bit too much, i

think.

ajay

how do you mean?

roland

a true hunter doesn't mind if the

animal wins. if it escapes. but

there weren't enough escapes from you

and me, ajay. i've decided to spend

a bit less time in the company of

death. maybe i just feel too close

to it my--

the waitress comes to the tourists' table and the most

obnoxious tourist actually paws her ass. roland is out of his

chair in a second.

roland (cont'd)

(to ajay)

excuse me.

romand walks over to the tourists' table, says something to

the waitress in the local dialect, and she walks away, behind

him. he stares down at the most obnoxious tourist.

roland (cont'd)

you, sir -- are no gentleman.

tourist

is that supposed to be an insult?

roland

i can think of none greater.

the tourist looks at his buddies and laughs.

tourist

buzz off, you silly old bastard.

roland

what do i have to do to pick a fight

with you, bring your mother into it?

tourist

are you kidding? i could take you

with one arm tied down.

roland

really?

in the middle of the floor,

the waiter finishes tying a man's wrist to his belt in the

back of his pants with a napkin. he pulls the knot tight and

the man turns around.

it's roland, with his arm tied down. the tourist stands

across from him.

tourist

i mean my arm.

pow! roland punches him square in the jaw. the tourist

reels, stunned. enraged, he lunges at roland, swinging with

both arms.

roland bobs, neatly ducking the punches, waits for the tourist

to turn around, and pops him thrice in the face. the tourist

spins and goes down to the floor, face first. a cloud of

sawdust and a loud cheer from the locals rise up in the bar.

back at his table,

roland drops the napkin on the table and sits back down with

ajay. in the background, the tourist's buddies hurriedly

carry their fallen cohort out of the bar.

roland

sorry. we were saying?

ajay

you broke that idiot's jaw for no

reason other than your boredom. tell

the truth, roland. aren't you even

interested in knowing this

expedition's quarry?

roland

ajay. go on up to my ranch, take a

look around the trophy room, and tell

me what kind of quarry you think

could possibly be of any interest

to me.

ajay just smiles.

cut to:

ext. african savannah - night

the african savannah appears in shades of fluorescent green,

seen through night-vision goggles. an animal yelp comes from

the left and the green vista sweeps abruptly toward it. the

world blurs momentarily, then comes into focus on a field of

long grass.

the grass ripples in a complex pattern as animals move

stealthily through it. one animal head pops up above the

grass for a split-second, teeth bared, a white stripe between

its eyes. sarah harding pulls the goggles away from her face.

sarah

hyenas. ace face is the striped

snout.

sarah is thirty, with a compact, athletic body built for the

outdoors. she loos through the goggles again, sweeping ahead

of the hyenas to their prey.

it's a herd of african buffalo, standing belly-deep in the

grass, agitated, bellowing and stamping their feet.

sarah turns to makena, her african assistant.

sarah (cont'd)

they'll try to take down a calf.

come on.

makena

closer?

sarah scurries up and over a rock face. makena follows.

closer now, they watch as the hyenas rush the herd, running

through it, trying to break it up.

makena (cont'd)

you know, we could see everything

from up on the edge of that cliff.

sarah

no way.

makena

but the view would --

sarah

no cliffs.

(into a pocket recorder)twenty yards. f3 center. f6

circling wide east. can't see f7.

while she talks, breathless, fascinated by the drama before

her, sarah continues to creep closer and closer to the action.

makena follows, with growing unease.

makena

sarah.

sarah

f8 circling north. f1 straight

through, disrupting. herd moving,

stamping. there's f7. straight

through. f8 angling through from the

north.

she's practically on top of the animals now.

makena

dr. harding.

makena has a hold of sarah's sweatshirt and is tugging her

back, at least trying to slow down her progress as sarah,

wide-eyed with fascination, creeps even closer.

suddenly there is a tremendous bellowing and the grass right

in front of them rips apart, trampled under the feet of the

hyenas as they cluster around a fallen buffalo calf. they

yelp and jump, their muzzles bloody.

the adults move aside, making room as the hyena pups come

forward, squealing to get at the kill. sarah's eyes shine

with excitement and she moves even closer, whispering into the

tape recorder.

sarah

brooding behavior in evidence at the

kill site, pups are ushered forward

and adults help them eat, pulling

flesh away from the carcass and--

a telephone rings.

sarah stops in mid-sentence, unsure if she heard what she

thought she heard. it rings again, the unmistakable chirping

of a cellular phone. sarah and makena both move at once,

pawing at a backpack.

sarah (cont'd)

(a frantic whisper)

i thought you turned it off!

two hyenas look inquisitively in the direction of the phone.

sarah comes up with it and jabs at a button in irritation.

sarah (cont'd)

yes?!

someone speaks on the other end. sarah rolls her eyes.

sarah (cont'd)

ian. this better be important.

sarah doesn't say anything for a long moment, just listens as

the voice on the other end talks. and talks.

sarah (cont'd)

when?

cut to:

int. mobile field systems - day

ian malcolm's leg, badly scarred, is bared and draped over the

end of a bench. two sandbags are fastened to his ankle and

malcolm is lifting them, painfully rehabbing his injury while

talking on a satellite phone.

malcolm

we leave in twenty-four hours. five

member team.

behind them, the sparks of a acetylene torch fly as workmen

make modifications on several vehicles, including a dark-green

mercedes benz aav (all-activity vehicle). the hood of the aav

is up and the v-6 engine has been pulled out; a new, smaller

engine is lowered in its place. to one side are two long

trailers, connected by an accordion-like passageway, like on a

subway car, allowing one to be towed behind the other.

malcolm

eddie carr's handling all our

equipment and he'll be there to

maintain it. he's designing special

field trailers now, top of the line

mobile research units.

eddie carr, fortyish, is barking out orders to the workmen.

eddie

no, no, look at the plans, henry,

you can't place that strut laterally,

it has to be crosswise, look at the

plans!

from the ceiling, a large metal age crashes down, landing

next to them on the floor with a deafening clang. they leap

back and look up. a workman waves from a scaffolding.

workman

sorry, eddie! specs say it can't

deform at 12,000 psi, we had to test

it

eddie bends down to inspect the cage, which is rectangular,

constructed of inch-thick titanium-alloy bars. malcolm hangs

up the phone and walks up, joining him.

malcolm

any damage?

eddie

minimal.

malcolm

'minimal' is too much. it has to be

light, it has to be strong --

eddie

light and strong, light and strong,

sure, why not, it's only impossible.

god save me from academics.

malcolm

you are an academic.

eddie

former academic. now i actually make

things. i don't just talk.

malcolm

you think i'm all talk, eddie?

eddie

(doesn't look at him)

it doesn't matter what i think.

malcolm

is there anything we've forgotten?

anything at all?

behind them, someone clears their throat. eddie and malcolm

turn around. kelly malcolm, an african-american girl around

twelve years old, stands in the doorway to the garage, a

duffel bag slung over one shoulder. she looks at malcolm and

breaks into a wide grin.

kelly

hi, dad.

malcolm

kelly! what are you doing here?

she drops the bag on the floor, and wraps her arms around him

in a warm embrace. he responds stiffly.

kelly

vacation. i'm all yours. you didn't

forget, did you?

she pulls back and looks at him.

kelly (cont'd)

did you?

cut to:

int. eddie's office - day

kelly is slumped in a chair in eddie's office next to the

construction floor. outside the glass windows work on the

vehicles continues unabated. malcolm hangs up the phone.

malcolm

okay, karen is expecting you in half

an hour. you only have to stay with

her one night, she'll put you on a

bus in the morning and your mother

will be at the station when you get

there.

kelly

i don't even know this woman.

malcolm

well, i do, and she's fantastic.

she'll take you to the museum, maybe

to a movie if you play your cards

right. you're going to have a

fantastic time.

kelly

stop saying fantastic. where are you

going?

malcolm

i can't tell you. but i'll be back

within a week.

kelly

my vacation is over in a week.

malcolm

i'll make it up to you this summer.

i promise.

kelly

i'm your daughter all the time, you

know. not just when it's convenient.

malcolm

very hurtful. your mother tell you

to say that?

kelly

no, dad. i have thoughts of my own

once in a while.

from the construction floor, eddie calls out.

eddie (o.s.)

dr. malcolm!

malcolm looks at her, trying to make peace. quickly.

malcolm

is that kid still bothering you?

kelly

which one?

malcolm

you know, at the bus stop. with the

hair?

kelly

that was about a year ago.

malcolm

well, is he?

kelly

no. richard talked to his parents.

malcolm

that richard.

eddie (o.s.)

ian, come here a minute!

kelly

(to malcolm)

i could come with you.

malcolm

out of the question. you'd miss the

gymnastics trials. you've been

training for that for a year.

kelly

i don't care about the trials, i

want to be with you. i could be your

research assistant, like i was in

austin.

malcolm

this is nothing like austin. forget

about it.

kelly

you like to have kids, you just

don't want to be with them, do you?

he looks at her, hurt. eddie calls out a third time,

impatient now. grateful for the escape, malcolm gets up and

heads for the door. he pauses guiltily.

malcolm

i'm not like you wan me to be. i've

what i can be.

he leaves.

int. main floor - day

while malcolm and eddie argue over something in the

background, kelly circles around the trailers and looks up at

the windows. they're all made of tempered glass, fine wire

mesh inside it. she looks around, to see if anybody's

watching. they're not, so she quickly slips inside the front

trailer.

int. trailer - day

inside, the trailer is a miracle of planning and design. it's

divided into sections, for different laboratory functions.

the main area is a biological lab, with specimen trays,

dissecting pans, and microscopes that connect to video

monitors.

next to it there's an extensive computer section, a bank of

processors, and a communications section. all the lab

equipment is miniaturized and built into small tables that

slides into the walls. everything is bolted down.

she notices a large map on the wall. off the coat of costa

rica, there is an area that has been circled in heavy black

ink.

kelly puts a finger on the map, crossing westward, through the

pacific ocean. thegre are dozen s of islands out here, but in

the highlighted region, there is a semi-circle of five.

matanceros. muerte. tacano. pena. and sorna. underneath

the whole island chain, there is a bold legend.

'the five deaths,' it says.

slowly, an ocean barge starts to chug its way across the

face of the map, leaving a wake that rolls the printed letters

of those three ominous words.

dissolve to:

ext. open sea - day

the map dissolves slowly away as the barge spalasehs through

five foot ocean swells in the open sea. the barge is crammed

with equipment, the aav, trailers, a jeep, and the members of

malcolm's team.

on the boat,

malcolm stands in the bow, riding the choppy seas. next to

him, dr. juttson, fortyish, holds onto the railing,

seasick. he shouts over the drone of the boat's engines.

juttison

(as the waves pound the

boat)

couldn't -- we just -- airlift --

into the -- island?

malcolm

dr. harding insisted we go by sea!

helicopters are too disruptive.

these aren't piles of bones you'll be

studying this time, dr. juttson, they

live, they breathe, and they react!

juttson looks at him skeptically --

-- and throws up.

at the back of the boat,

nick van owen, a good-looking american in his late

twenties, is sitting amid a pile of video cameras and other

photographic equipment, playing with a game bow. sarah

harding, dressed in field gear, sits down next to him.

sarah

so what's your story, nick?

nick

i was a cameraman for nightline for

six years, been freelance since '91.

do a lot of work for greenpeace.

sarah

that must be interesting. what drew

you there?

nick

women. 'bout eighty percent female

in greenpeace.

sarah

very noble of you.

(of the noisy game boy)

you don't think you're bringing that

thing onto the island, do you?

nick grins and shuts it off.

nick

hey, i wouldn't want to spook the

woolly mammoths.

sarah

you think this is all a joke?

nick

oh, please. how am i supposed to

keep a straight face when --

(gestures to the

black-clad malcolm)

-- johnny cash here tells me i'm

going to skull island?

sarah

(not amused)

ian's a very good friend of mine.

nick

he doesn't need a friend, he needs a

shrink.

sarah

i believe in him.

but her face says even she has her doubts.

nick

come on, there's only one reason any

of us are here. his check cleared.

she looks at him.

sarah

drop the cynical pose. you can't

pull it off while playing donkey

kong.

the boat's captain, a costa rican, points ahead and shouts to

them.

captain

there it is!

they all turn and look out over the bow. up ahead, shear,

reddish-gray cliffs of volcanic rock rise dramatically out of

the fog-heavy ocean.

captain (cont'd)

isla sorna!

the boat roars ahead, plowing into a heavy wreath of fog. the

mist swirls and encircles it.

ext. island fiord - day

a narrow inlet cuts through the steep cliffs, leading to the

island interior. the barge bursts through the fog at the

mouth of the fiord and heads deeper into the island.

ext. lagoon - day

lush green plants drip everywhere in this verdant lagoon.

sulfurous yellow steam issues from the ground, bleaching the

nearby foliage white. in the distance one can hear the cries

of jungle birds.

the boat is now beached and the crew flips the tarps off the

aav, the jeep, and the trailers. the trucks back down a

narrow ramp and onto the soft clay shore at the edge of the

lagoon. there is a large three-toad animal imprint in the

clay at the water's edge, and the aav backs right over it,

swapping its track for the animal's.

malcolm is at the edge of the water with the captain.

malcolm

be back in three days, but keep the

satellite phone on and your radio

tuned to the frequency i specified in

case we need you sooner.

captain

don't worry. i've lived around here

all my life, these islands are

completely --

in the distance, they hear the faint, strange roar of a very

large animal. the captain looks at malcolm, eyes wide.

captain (cont'd)

-- safe.

cut to:

ext. grassy plain - day

the jeep tows the double trailer to the edge of a grassy plain

just beyond the lagoon, overlooking the interior of the

island. the noon sun is high overhead; below, the valley

shimmers in midday heat.

eddie connects a flexible cable to the jeep's power winch and

flicks it on. the cable turns slowly in the sunlight. moving

along the length of it, we see the cable leads to a pile of

aluminum, some kind of strut assembly painted a camouflage

color.

as the winch pulls the cable tight, the jumble of thin struts

begins to move, slowly rising into the air. the emerging

structure climbs, spidery, struts unfolding, fifteen feet into

the air. the light house at the top (the cage that was

tested back at eddie's workshop) is now just beneath the

lowest branches of the nearby trees, which almost conceal it

from view.

nick lights a cigarette and carelessly tosses the match on the

ground. malcolm notices.

malcolm

listen. i know you all have probably

concluded that i'm out of my mind.

is it our imagination, or did the trees behind malcolm just

sway slightly?

malcolm (cont'd)

that's all right, for now. but just

humor me and be careful.

no, it's not our imagination, there they go again. whole

trees shivering and swaying from left to right and back

again.

malcolm (cont'd)

even if you think i'm harmless and

deluded, i promise --

now the trees creaks and groan as they sway. everyone has seen

it, and now malcolm turns around too.

malcolm (cont'd)

-- this place is for real.

cut to:

int. double trailers - day

it's quiet inside the trailers that serve as their command

post/living quarters. the books are lined up neatly on the

shelves. the computers sit, booted up and awaiting data

input.

all the way in the back, past the spare tires and life

preservers and canned food and bottled water, up in one

storage bin all the way on top, there's a rustling sound.

a plastic student id card pops out in the cracks under the

bin's door. a photograph in the lower right hand corner of

the card is visible -- it's kelly, malcolm's twelve-year-old

daughter.

the card wriggles against the lock and, with a soft click, the

door pops open. kelly herself tumbles out, wrapped in several

blankets and carrying a mason jar half full of a yellowish

liquid. we can guess.

she leaps to her feet, blinks the light out of her eyes, and

bolts to the back of the trailer as fast as she possibly can.

she races through a narrow door and slams it shut.

a sign on the door says 'restroom.' inside, a sigh of relief

is heard.

cut to:

ext. jungle trail - day

along a stream bed, the jungle trees still shiver. nick loads

a three quarter inch tape into his heavy video camera and

chews anxiously on a piece of gum. sarah and dr. juttson are

beside him as the group nervously follows the groaning forest

trees to their right.

at the rear, eddie and malcolm walk side by side. eddie is

carrying a heavy silver rifle, an aluminum canister hanging

beneath the barrel. he shows it to malcolm, his voice low and

urgent.

eddie

lindstradt air rifle. fires a

subsonic fluger impact-delivery dart.

he cracks open the cartridge bank, revealing a row of plastic

containers filled with straw-colored liquid. each is tipped

with a three inch needle and carries a bright yellow warning

tag -- 'extreme danger! lethal toxicity!'

eddie (cont'd)

i loaded the enhanced venom of conus

purpurascens, the south sea cone

shell. most powerful neurotoxin in

the world. acts within a

two-thousandth of a second. faster

than the nerve-conduction velocity.

the animal's down before it feels the

prick of the dart.

from their right, the shaking trees seen closer now. by

walking down the stream bed, the humans are tracking right

along with the animals as they move in the foliage.

malcolm

(to eddie)

is there an antidote?

eddie

like if you shoot yourself in the

foot? wouldn't matter. you'd be

dead before you realized you'd

accidentally pulled the trigger.

ahead of them, thick foliage blocks the path of the dried up

stream bed to the height of about fifteen feet. but around

them, the crashing sounds get louder and closer, the swaying

trees shiver right beside them. eddie raises the rifle in

defense as the trees right at the edge of the stream bed sway

and part. above the foliage, they see the sudden

movement --

-- of a row of stegosaur fins. the spade-shaped fins run

along a ridge down the middle of the animal's back, about

three feet tall each. the group freezes, amazed, and as the

stegosaur continues on, they get a good look at it through a

break in the foliage.

it's a large dinosaur with a small head, a thick neck, and a

huge lumbering body.

a double row of plates runs along the crest of its back, and

it has a dragging trail with long spikes in it.

the gum drops out of nick's mouth, flops onto his shirt, and

sticks there.

nick

oh --

juttson

-- my --

eddie

-- god!

sarah

it's beautiful!

a second stegosaur, a baby about a quarter the size of the

first animal, breaks through the foliage, following the adult.

while the group is reaching to that, the earth vibrates and

a third stego, by far the biggest of the three, walks out of

the foliage right behind them, crossing within ten feet.

apparently unconcerned about these little creatures in their

environment, the stegos continue on across the stream bed.

sarah raises a still camera and shoots pictures. her shutter

is muted, so that a muffled click is all that's audible.

juttson raises a pocket recorder to his lips and whispers into

it breathlessly.

juttson

stegosaurus, family stegosauridae,

infraorder stegosauria, suborder

thyreophora. length, adult male,

estimate twenty-five to thirty feet.

his breathy words turn into almost helpless laughter, of all

things, as he can't contain his astonishment. eddie covers

his mouth, trying to keep him quiet.

sarah

(to juttsn)

that was a pair bond! a family

group, even, long after that infant

was nestbound!

juttson

i want to see the nesting ground!

nick turns to malcolm, eyes like saucers, and makes a futile,

wordless, boy-was-i-wrong-on-this-one gesture. malcolm

smiles, leans over, and taps softly on nick's video camera.

nick raises it to his shoulder and flicks it on as the group

continues on into the bush after the animals.

in the bush,

the baby wanders away from the group and ambles over near

where sarah crouches in the bushes. sarah raises her camera

again and silently snaps a picture. she whispers to juttson,

who is beside her.

sarah

lone nest -- not colonial. i don't

see an egg clutch...

she gestures and juttson peers through a pair of field

glasses.

juttson

(whispering back)

the empty shells are crushed and

trampled. the young stay in the

birth environment, that's conclusive!

sarah

not without a shot of the nest.

she sees an opportunity. as the baby heads back to its

parents, sarah scoots right along with it, moving behind it,

using its body as a shield to block her from the view of the

other two.

nick and eddie's faces whiten in alarm. nick reaches out to

stop her, but he barely gets hold of the sole of her boot

before she pulls away from him and duckwalks out into the

clearing.

in the clearing,

sarah slinks along behind the baby stego as it walks back,

toward the nest, chewing the branches it carries in its south.

she raises up sightly, squeezing off pictures of the herd,

ever better as she gets closer.

back at the hill,

the others can only watch her, aghast.

nick

she's gutty.

malcolm

she's nuts.

in the clearing,

sarah keeps moving closer. the baby passes a small grouping

of rocks and sarah ducks behind them. she's now in a perfect

position to photograph the nest, and she squeezes off picture

after picture from this ideal vantage point.

she shoots the last picture on the roll --

-- and the camera's autowinder whirs to life. sarah looks

down in horror as the camera's motor whines loudly in her

hands.

th noise startles the animals. the male turns toward her

the plates on its back bristling. sarah gets to her feet and

starts to move away, slowly.

the male turns away from her and swings its tail, spikes

extended. it whizzes through the air, right at her, but sarah

leaps back at the last second --

-- and the tail's spikes thud into the dirt where she was.

sarah crunches to the ground and the three stegosaurs dart

away, disappearing into the bush, moving surprisingly quickly

for animals their size.

the others run to sarah, help her to her feet, and pull her

back, against a massive tree trunk. but the tree trunk lifts

right up off the ground.

it's no tree, it's a dinosaur's leg, a massive one, six feet

across, god knows how many feet high. the group gasps and

looks up as a makenchiasaurus, an enormous saurupod over a

hundred feet from nose to tail, lumbers away from them.

the group stares in wonder as the mamenchiasaur stops and

honks furtively, its long neck stretched out above them.

now a second mamenchiasaur neck cranes out of the

surrounding forest trees and wraps around the first. the

first mamenchiasaur thunders around in a semi-circle, getting

into position behind the second.

nick swings his video camera straight up and the group

suddenly finds itself in the middle of a mamenchiasaur mating.

the mighty tails swing and snap around them as the two animals

come together, and trees start snapping and falling, crashing

to the jungle floor.

the group panics and bolts for cover toward the only place

where the trees are not falling -- which is directly underneath

the animals!

amid honks and bleats, the swinging tails continue to deforest

the jungle around them.

the noise and chaos is deafening, drowning out the laughter

and screams of the fascinated and terrified group.

there is a momentary lull and the group dashes out from

underneath the animals, disappearing into the thick forest.

a short distance away,

the group collapses to the ground, breathless, chests heaving

with wild, frightened laughter. sarah goes to malcolm and

throws her arms around him, exhilarated.

sarah

ian, you're not insane! i'm so

glad!

juttson

(out of breath)

dr. malcolm -- the world -- owes you

an apology.

cut to:

ext. jungle trail - day

suddenly, the gathereres are taking their expedition a lot more

seriously. they march quickly back to base camp, their energy

and excitement palpable. nick strikes a match and raises it

to a cigarette with a shaking hand, but sarah leans in and

blows it out.

sarah

no more smoking. we leave no scent

of any kind. no hair tonics, no

cologne, seal all our food in plastic

bags. we will observe and document,

but we will not interact.

malcolm

that's a scientific impossibility,

you know. heisenberg uncertainty

principle. whatever you study, you

also change.

nick ejects the used videotape from his camera and pulls out a

sharpie, to label it.

nick

what should i call this? 'jurassic

pork?'

eddie, next to him, laughs.

sarah

(still to malcolm)

and let's forget about the high hide.

we can't do this kind of work up in a

tower, we need to be out in the

field, as close to the animals as

possible.

juttson

i'm not surprised stegosaur lived in

a family group, but there's never

been anything in the fossil record to

prove the carnivores did.

sarah

why wouldn't they? look at hyenas,

jackals, nearly all species of

predator birds --

juttson

that doesn't say a thing about t-rex,

they could have been rogues. robert

burke certainly thinks they were.

sarah

we've got to see one to find out.

is there any --

malcolm

no way.

nick

oh, my god.

sarah

-- way we could safely --

nick

oh, no!

he takes off, running as fast as he can, down the trail,

toward base camp. they look ahead, in the direction nick is

running. a plume of black smoke is rising up over the trees.

eddie

fire!

cut to:

ext. base camp - day

nick bursts out of the trees and races toward the thick plume

of smoke. in the middle of the base camp, someone has neatly

built a campfire surrounded by stones. flames burn in the

middle.

nick races over to it and stomps it out as the others emerge

from the trees behind him.

malcolm

a campfire?!

nick grabs a jug of water, but sarah steps in.

sarah

no! water mixes the smoke billow,

use dirt!

they start to kick and rake dirt onto the fire with their

hands and feet. eddie and dr. juttson jump in and help out.

malcolm

who the hell started a campfire?!

voice (o.s.)

it was just to make lunch.

malcolm turns toward the source of the voice. kelly stands in

the doorway of the trailer, sheepish.

kelly (cont'd)

i wanted it ready when you got back.

the whole group stares, stunned, none more so than malcolm

himself.

malcolm

oh ... man.

cut to:

ext. base camp - later

later, and base camp is a blur of activity. sarah, juttson,

nick, and eddie are hard at work, burying the remains of the

fire, sealing their food in plastic bags, loading camera

equipment, packing up specimen containers and other

information-gathering equipment.

malcolm, meanwhile, is lecturing kelly.

malcolm

you know you were putting yourself in

a potentially dangerous situation,

but you didn't bother to find out

how dangerous before you leapt in.

you don't have the faintest idea

what's going on on this island!

sarah

(loading a backpack)

what do you want to do, ian, lock her

up for curiosity? where do you think

she gets it?

juttson

(to nick)

do you have chromium tapes? the

others fog in high-

nick

-humidity, i know.

(waving a tape)

highest lead density on the market.

eddie

(to malcolm)

we've got a lot of heavy marching

ahead of us. i'm not carrying

anybody.

kelly

i can keep up.

malcolm

you're going home. i'm sending a

radio call for the boats. we'll all

go down to the lagoon and wait for

them.

sarah

lighten up, ian, you sound like a

high school vice-principal.

malcolm

i'm her father.

kelly

sure, now.

nick leans over and whispers to eddie, gesturing to malcolm

and kelly.

nick

do you see any family resemblance

here?

malcolm

you can't stay, kelly, that's it.

it's too dangerous.

sarah

if it's so dangerous, why'd you bring

any of us?

kelly

you're wrong, dad. i do know

what's going on on this island.

malcolm

how could you possibly?

kelly

because you said so. maybe nobody

else believed you, but i always

did.

he looks at her, touched. nick mutters to eddie again.

nick

the kid scores with cheap sentiment.

sarah

ian, if we recall the boat now, we've

made two invasive landings in one

day. that'll have to go in any paper

i write, and it will leave room for

people to say our findings were

contaminated. you know the academic

world as well as i do, once they

smell blood in the water, you're

dead. our presence has got to be one

hundred percent antiseptic. that

means if we bend a blade of grass, we

bend it right back the way it-

a low sound has been rising while she speaks, and now it comes

booming over the jungle around them, a thunderous racket that

shakes the very ground beneath them. suddenly, three c-130

military cargo planes thunder overhead and roar toward the

island interior, flying very low. the planes are enormous,

fat-assed creatures, their rear cargo doors hanging open.

at a ridge,

the members of the gatherer expedition hit the dirt and peer

over a ledge, watching as the airplanes bank and circle over a

specific spot.

eddie raises a pair of field glasses.

down below,

huge metal equipment containers are shoved out the back of the

cargo bays. they snap off trees like matchsticks, crush flat

anything foolish enough to exist where they want to land.

now men pour out the rear of the planes, their low-altitude

parachutes billowing open behind them.

up on the ridge,

nick looks at sarah.

nick

you were saying something about

antiseptic?

cut to:

ext. hunters' camp - day

metal container doors clang to the ground, jeep engines roar

to life in a cloud of thick black diesel smoke, blue laser

barriers sizzle and burn through foliage as this group of

hunters establishes a perimeter around their new camp.

peter ludlow, dressed in brand new banana republic safari

wear, steps into the center of the camp and surveys the

surroundings. he turns to dr. robert burke, a ragged,

pony-tailed man in wire-rimmed glasses.

ludlow

welcome to your dream come true, dr.

burke.

burke has a detailed set of satellite recon photographs that

he spreads out on the hood of a jeep.

burke

i believe the large herbivores forage

in open plains, like bison, which

would explain the great variety of

heat dots we're reading in the

flatlands around this waterhole.

right -- here.

ludlow

then that's where we're going.

burke flips open a manifest that he will carry with him at all

times. inside, there are dozens of sketches of various kinds

underneath. as each vehicle roars out of the equipment

container, burke slips a waterproof eight by ten card with an

icon of the various dinosaurs on the island into a slot in the

dashboard.

burke

(calling them off)

hadrosaurus! carinthosaurus!

maiasaurus!

as the procession goes on, ludlow turns to dieter stark, the

man we saw welding earlier.

ludlow

this is as good a place as any for

base camp. first priority is the

laser barriers, i want them all up

and running in thirty minutes. half

an hour, understand?

dieter nods and turns to some of the hunters, who number about

twenty in all, that are working nearby. but someone steps in

front of dieter, cutting him off. it's roland tembo, the

hunter from the bar in mombassa.

roland

cancel that, dieter.

ludlow

what? why?

roland points to a stream running nearby.

roland

carnivores hunt near stream beds. do

you want to set up base camp or an

all-you-can-eat people bar?

ludlow

(thinks)

you heard his, dieter. find a new

spot. and remember, we're after

herbivores only -- no unnecessary

risks.

dieter sighs and goes to work. roland puts an arm around

ludlow and pulls him aside.

roland

peter, if you want me to run your

little camping trip, there are two

conditions. first -- i'm in

charge, and when i'm not around,

dieter is. your job is to sign the

checks, tell us we're doing a good

job, and open your case of scotch

when we have a good day. second

condition -- my fee. you can keep

it. all i want in exchange for my

services is the right to hunt one of

the tyrannosaurs. a male. buck

only. why and how are my business.

if you don't like either of those

conditions, you're on your own. go

ahead and set up your camp right

here, or in a swamp, or in the middle

of a rex nest, for all i care. but

i've been on too many safaris with

rich dentists to listen to any more

suicidal ideas. okay?

ludlow

(what else can he say?)

okay.

roland

good lad.

cut to:

ext. jungle

the jungle foliage shivers, quakes, and finally falls as the

hunters' convoy roars into the hart of the jungle. dieter

stark stands in the front of the lead vehicle, the

'speedbird,' waving the convoy forward, his driver (carter) at

the wheel beside him.

ludlow is in the back seat of the speedbird next to dr. burke.

roland and ajay, his tracker, are in the second jeep. they

look up as the brakelights on the speedbird flash and the car

stops, forcing the rest of the convoy to halt as well.

in the front, the speedbird flashes its lights at something in

front of it. dieter climbs out, plainly irritated. he walks

around the front of the car and sees --

-- four pachycephalosaurs eating grass in the middle of the

jungle trail. they're about five feet tall, thick, heavy-set

animals whose distinctive feature is an enormous skull casing,

a tall, impressive crown that rises on the tops of their

heads. dieter doesn't seem impressed. he looks back at

ludlow, who look at dr. burke.

burke stands up in his seat, a look of wonder on his face.

burke

pachycephalosaurus!

ludlow

carnivore?

burke

(enchanted)

huh? no! no, herbivore, late

cretaceous. very unusual plant

eater, see that distinctive domed

skull? that's nine inches of solid

bone.

ludlow

(who cares?)

just get them out of the way, dieter.

dieter

come on, move it!!

the pachys look up at him sluggishly, still eating, like cows

chewing their cuds. as unimpressive with him as he is with

them, they go back to their grass.

dieter (cont'd)

oh, for god's --

he slings his rifle off his shoulder and aims it at the

closest animal. behind him, roland has climbed out of the

second jeep.

roland

dieter. this is a round-up, not a

war. use your powers of persuasion.

dieter gestures to the speedbird to pull ahead, which it does,

slowly, toward the animals. the pachys look up, alert, but do

not move. dieter walks toward them.

dieter

come on, come on, don't have all

day!

burke

(going on to no one in

particular)

see, the pachy's neck attaches at the

bottom of its skull instead of the

back of its head, as with reptiles.

the speedbird draws closer. the first pachy stares at it

intently. the lead vehicle gets closer, closer --

-- and bangs into the pachy, knocking it back a few feet, out

of the way.

burke (cont'd)

so when it lowers its head, its neck

lines up directly with its

backbone --

behind dieter,

ajay is staring at something on the ground at his feet. he

takes a few steps further into the foliage, then turns back

toward roland.

ajay

roland.

up at the front,

the pachys turn and hop away. dieter turns and heads back to

the speedbird. as he reaches for the door, a voice calls

'look out!' from behind him. dieter spins around, just in

time to see --

-- the first pachy in full charge. it slams headfirst into

the speedbird, smashing the headlights and denting the grill.

burke

(concluding his lecture)

which is perfect for absorbing

impact.

dieter turns and runs around to the front of the car. the

pachy has backed up for another run and is now charging right

at him.

dieter retreats, quickly, and rips open the passenger door to

protect himself.

slam! the pachy clobbers the door, sending dieter flying

against the car, knocking the wind out of him.

in the other jeeps, the rest of the hunters stand up or lean

out the window for a better look, laughing.

pow!! the pachy head-butts the tire next to dieter. it

bounces off, tumbles to the ground, and rolls to its feet as

dieter gets to his knees and crawls toward the back of the

speedbird.

but the pachy is quicker and lunges at dieter again. he's

forced to hit the dirt and crawls quickly underneath the

speedbird, just as the animal slams into the rear of the

ve