I came out of the dense area of trees only to find that a large hill blocked my way. “Damn”, I murmured, “This is not going to be easy, especially with this stupid arm.” Over to the left was a large rock which acted like a step to the next level of hill. Since I couldn’t climb too well, I just hopped up using my one good arm for balance. Getting to the top from then on was easy, since it was just a slight slope. As I came to the top of the hill, however, I froze.

“What the..hell has been going on here?” I exclaimed, observering the ruins around me. Maybe there was hope yet, I mean someone must be on this island, who would have built this otherwise?

I wandered through the area cautiously making sure there was nothing dangerous around – I mean this did look like the perfect place for a tiger to creep about, but then again, maybe I was just being paranoid. “Hello?” I called out – it was obvious no one was here, the place was a mess with old lights and crates lying around; a total waste of material. Over to the right was a large gate half open. “Hmmm,” I thought, “what’s behind that, I wonder…”

I wandered over to the gate, still keeping an eye out for trouble, pushed it wide open with my good arm and came to a halt. What I saw was really an added bit of hope to my adventure – one of the many usefull things you could wish for on a lush tropical island like this.

Firearms!!” I screamed with absoloute delight – all lined up on a large crate to the left. “These will come in handy,” I thought. I had never used a gun before, even though My dad had been an arms-nut – I had always refused to join in with him. I picked up one of the pistols that lay there and bounced it in my palm – it felt heavy. There was text imprinted on the side of it: “Standard Issue Nighthawk Desert Eagle,” I read. “Hmmm, still full.”

Over to the front of the crate were some boxes lined up like targets. It then became obvious that whoever was on this island certainly had to be prepared for whatever they had to do – I mean who leaves loaded guns lying around? I took aim with the pistol and fired.



The gun was powerful, I can tell you that – it almost flew out of my hand. I missed, though, so I took aim again and fired once more, this time hitting the box hard. It flew way back onto a hill behind the targets. “Whoa, I’m keeping that“, I said quietly to myself, and stuffed it into my shorts. Slowly, I picked up another pistol beside it – this one looked like a revolver I had seen on a western once. I stuffed that into my pocket too.

There was also a large rifle lying there, but I couldnt use that as only my right arm actually worked. “Oh well, these will do.” I turned and made way to another gate a few yards away. I slammed into it hard, pushing it with all my weight. As it fully opened, I stumbled forwards a pace or two, and raised my eyes ahead of me.

There was a large billboard with some writing and pictures on it – from where I was standing, it was too hard to read, so I went over to see what it said. I gazed up to see some large blue lettering come into view. “Ingen? some kind of…. Wait…. ‘International Genetic Technologies'” – “That was the company from the dinosaur trial, that old guy John Hammond said he’d built a research station on an island somewhere in Central America.”

As I gazed up at the board, I remembered John Hammond’s first words to the viewing public:

“My name is John Parker Hammond, I was born on march 14th 1928…”

“Oh god,” I thought. A cold shivver ran over me. “This is the place, This is ‘Site B’, this is John Hammond’s lost world!”

I felt sick; from what I had heard, John had put LIVE genetic Dinosaurs on the island to see how they would cope on their own. “Man, I am in deep shit!” I screamed out loud.

I drew my Desert Eagle shakily from my shorts and kept a firm grip on it until my knuckles whitened. I followed the path which led further into the jungle, and came to a large junction with tyre tracks. Anxious though I was, my heart lept – to the right I could see a TRUCK! I nearly ran down to it in excitement – perhaps it had a radio, or something else I could communicate with. My fleetingly pounding heart sank as it turned out to be a rusting heap, nothing but an empty hull with a few crates and a useless rifle on the back of it. “Damn,” I said in a saddened tone, “I have to get off this island!”

With a sudden rush of anger and disapointment, I got up and went back up the path and came to some crates stacked up upon one another. I kicked them in a rage – they fell with a clump, but making a rather nice bridge for me to cross the ditch with. Just as I got to the other side, I heard a thundering echo of sound like a tree being uprooted. I fell to the ground, my heart thumping once again.

“Oh great so now I have earthquakes to deal with on my journey.”

I was wrong – whatever made that sound was very much alive. I looked up to see an amazing sight…