The Evolution of Claire

by Tess Sharpe

  So I get up, and I do the thing I should have done all along.

  I call my sister.

  “Sweetie, come home,” Karen says, when I’m finally done telling her everything, sobbing through half of it. “No one will be mad at you for leaving. Everyone will understand. I can book you a ticket right now. You can be home by Wednesday. Home with me and Mom and Dad, and you can snuggle Earhart on the couch and not have to worry about any of this anymore.”

  Trembling, I wipe the tears off my cheeks. It sounds so appealing, what she says, the picture she conjures. I can almost feel my dog’s fur under my hands. I want to be there so badly. My eyes are swollen, my nose running and chapped, but Karen’s voice, wrapping around me, oh, it is the comfort I need.

  The reminder I need.

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  “Okay,” Karen replies, in that careful way I recognize. It’s the voice she uses when she doesn’t want to push because it’ll make me dig in my heels. She knows me too well.

  She knew the old me.

  I’m not sure anyone knows me now. Even myself.

  I came here to be part of something great. To learn, and to bond with the dinosaurs before anyone else had the chance. I planned to take what I learned and the connections I made and sail off to my bright future. I was going to rise in DC and make my mark and change things for the better. I wanted a better world for the animals who trust us, who love us, who are part of a healthy ecosystem.

  But now, what I loved has taken something from me. Not just Justin, though he’s the biggest part, the most important part. But I’ve also lost my hope. My safety. And I don’t know what to do about that. Do I kill the instinct inside me, the one that tells me to reach out, to help, to shelter? Will it hurt less if I do?

  If I go home, I’ll be wrapped in love and hugs and normalcy. I’ll spend the rest of the summer helping Dad in his garden, Mom watching from the porch because after she finds out about this, she won’t want me out of her sight. I’ll go back to school in a few months and…then what?

  Go to class and pretend everything is like it was?

  I don’t know if I can do that.

  I wipe away more tears, sniffling. “I need some time to think,” I say. “That doesn’t mean I’m staying,” I add.

  “But it doesn’t mean you’re coming home, either,” Karen says softly. “Oh, Claire…” I can hear just breathing on the line for a moment. I try to picture her, probably standing in her office, counting in her head.

  One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi.

  “I’ll be okay,” I say, because I can’t use my canned I’ll be fine excuse with her. I don’t know why okay is different, but it is. “I can deal with this.”

  “You shouldn’t have to,” Karen says, and the words are so small, but they mean so much. I choke back another sob.

  “I’m gonna go rest,” I say. “I’m so tired.”

  “Of course,” my sister says. I know that as soon as we get off the phone, she’ll call our parents, even though she promises me she won’t. Some things override promises. I understand, I guess.

  Tomorrow will come, and with it my mom and dad’s fear and worry and begging for me to come home. I don’t want to have to think that through or prepare for it, so instead, I just say, “I love you. Bye,” and I hang up before she can say it back.

  I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I try not to think about anything, but my sister’s voice fresh in my mind makes me think of Victory, of what Tanya and Eric did for her and what might happen if she’s pulled out of that medical trial. She smiled so brightly when I saw her on the video call with Tanya. The thought of another mother losing a child to this mess makes something stir inside me. Something that isn’t grief or pain.

  It’s anger.

  Suddenly, fiercely, I cannot be in this room any longer. I keep half expecting Tanya to come bursting in, talking a mile a minute, and I can’t stand it. It feels like the walls are pressing in closer with each passing second.

  I try to calm down. I count in my head, breathing in and out, deep and slow. But it’s not working. So I get up, grab my bag, and take the back way out. The security guard in the lobby who’s supposed to follow me never even sees me.

  Unfortunately, as I get out of the service elevator, I run straight into Wyatt.

  I’ve barely seen anyone but my friends since that night in the paddock. Seeing Wyatt…well, I want to be anywhere else even more now.

  “Hi,” he says.

  “I’ve got to go,” I say, walking past him.

  “Hey, I’m sorry about Justin,” he says, and for a second, I wonder if he’s actually going to redeem a sliver of himself. And then he continues, “But now do you see what I mean about this place? The secrets? The conspiracies?” The smugness on his face is enraging.

  Red flares along my vision and my fingers curl. I think about everything my dad ever taught me about throwing a punch and then I think about risking it, being that person. I want to be. Just for a moment.

  And then I breathe and my fists uncurl and I think of Justin’s tilted smile, of thistle flowers and wet cement on fingers. Of his trust in me, of what the world lost when it lost him.

  When I’m sure my voice won’t shake, I say, “You always have to be right, don’t you, Wyatt? No matter what.”

  He smirks. “What can I say. Some people are just winners.”

  It’s really hard not to sneer at that. “Well, I solved the mystery of the phantom intern, not you. So I guess that means I’m the winner.”

  His gaze shifts from smug to curious. “You’re messing with me.”

  “You think after everything I’ve been through the last few days, I’d waste my time messing with you?” I ask.

  He believes me now, the curiosity burning in his pale eyes and cheeks. “I want to know what you found out,” he says.

  “Too bad we can’t always get what we want,” I say. And then I walk away, leaving him behind.

  He’s not worth any more of my time.

  * * *

  “Claire,” Dr. Wu says, and he’s the first person who isn’t using that soft, cautious tone with me; an unexpected relief. “You’re not assigned to me today.”

  “No,” I say.

  It’s hot this morning. I drove over here with the jeep windows rolled down and I’m sweaty and miserable, but I’m determined. I couldn’t save Justin, and that might break me still. But I might be able to finish Izzie’s work—and figure out if her theory about the algae is right. If it is, I can save the dinosaurs a lot of pain, and the risky surgery will be unnecessary.

  I took the elevator down to the labs and waved to get the attention of one of the techs through the glass. She looked startled to see me, then disappeared down the rows of tables and returned a few minutes later with Dr. Wu in tow.

  “Did you want to work?” Dr. Wu asks, and again, there’s that sweet, sweet relief of being treated like I’m capable. Like I’m not broken. It’s a balm to my soul.

  “I actually need your help,” I say, pulling the algae specimens from my bag. “I need to test these, and I don’t have the equipment.”

  Dr. Wu’s gaze zeroes in on the specimen. “May I?” he asks.

  I hand it over, and he holds it up to the light. “Algae?” he asks.

  “From the waterfall in the valley,” I say. “It grows behind the falls.”

  “And what do you want to test it for?” he asks.

  “Acidity,” I say. “I did a basic pH test, but I want more details.”

  “And I assume you have a good reason for this?” Dr. Wu asks.

  “Yes,” I say, but I don’t tell it to him.

  Any other time, I think he would push to know more. But maybe…just maybe…he just trusts me to have a good reason.

  “Very well, come along,” he
says.

  The scientists’ eyes are all on me as I follow Dr. Wu past the main labs. Whispers surround us—they think they’re being subtle, but they really aren’t.

  Dr. Wu takes me to his personal office, the one I’ve never seen, the one where no one is usually allowed. Large pieces of amber are arranged on shelves above his desk, glowing gold in the overhead light.

  “Come over here,” he directs, and I walk to the small lab table tucked in the corner. It has the basics spread across it: microscope, test tubes, a Bunsen burner. He rummages in the cabinet above for a moment and pulls out a set of slides, a pair of long tweezers, and a stack of petri dishes.

  “You kept the algae hydrated?” he asks as he pops open the tube, using the tweezers to grasp a bit of the green plant.

  “Yes.”

  “From the source or from the tap in your hotel room?”

  “From the source,” I say. “Just in case it was the water causing a reaction.”

  “The water here has been extensively tested, I assure you,” Dr. Wu says. He drops a piece of algae into the petri dish and then adds a few drops from a bottle he plucks from the cabinet. I lean forward eagerly, but nothing happens.

  He picks up the dish, tilting it from side to side, and all of a sudden, the clear solution he added turns bright red.

  “Hmm.” He frowns. “That shouldn’t happen. Claire, fetch me that apple on my desk.”

  I go over and grab it, handing the fruit over. He takes a scalpel and with clean, precise movements carves a thin strip of peel off and drops it into the petri dish with the algae.

  My eyes widen as I watch it happen. The apple peel begins to disintegrate before our eyes—whatever’s in the algae is eating away at the organic matter.

  “Where did you say you collected this specimen?” Dr. Wu asks, crossing his arms as he regards the rapidly disappearing apple peel.

  “In the Gyrosphere Valley,” I say.

  “But what body of water?” he asks. “The lake? The pond?”

  “The waterfall,” I say.

  “The waterfall,” he echoes, his eyebrows knitting together. “Of course,” he breathes, his extraordinary mind putting it all together. “When we moved the herbivores back into the Gyrosphere Valley at the beginning of this year, we expanded it to include more natural water sources, and while we were at it, we began adding a chemical compound to the bodies of water monthly.”

  “You’re drugging the dinosaurs through their water?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “It was a health measure. It’s a compound to help strengthen their bones and teeth,” he explains. “So the vets don’t have to administer it via needle.”

  “Like putting fluoride in water systems?” I ask.

  He nods. “The compound itself is absolutely harmless. But it seems that when it combines with the deposits left on the stones from the last volcanic eruption, five hundred years ago, and is mixed with the cells of the plant, it creates a highly acidic new strain of algae. Interesting…very interesting. I could not have predicted this.”

  He finally looks up from the petri dish. “How did you come across this?” he asks.

  “Some of my friends, we snuck in to swim at the waterfall,” I lie. “I got the algae on my leg, and the next morning, my skin was all red and raw. Not like a rash, but more like a burn. It made me curious.”

  “Well, thank you for bringing it to my attention,” Dr. Wu says. “Naturally occurring acidic compounds like this have many possibilities and uses. This will be very interesting to investigate.”

  I watch him carefully, wondering if he’s going to make the connection between the apparently flesh-eating algae and the Brachiosauruses’ bronchial infections. But he doesn’t seem to make the leap, and I don’t fill him in.

  I’m starting to put together a plan. I’m going to need all the power I can get to make my next move. And right now, information is power.

  “How are you doing, Claire?” Dr. Wu asks, and the question startles me. I thought that he’d be the one person who wouldn’t force me to answer that.

  But when I look into his eyes, I don’t see pity. I see understanding. Recognition.

  Dr. Wu was there when it all started with Dr. Hammond. He was there that night everything went wrong. He must have lost colleagues.

  This place has taken from him, too.

  But he has stayed. And suddenly, all I can do is ask why. I blurt it out in a rush, and he looks at me for a moment, quietly, with a patience he’s never shown before.

  “The island takes, yes. But it gives, too. That is nature, Claire. That is life.”

  “So you just…deal?” I ask.

  His mouth twitches into a smile. “You move forward. Step by step. Some days it is hard. But the more days you put behind you, the easier it gets. The more you learn about what it is to have a calling. To do work that is more than just you or your colleagues.”

  “And it’s worth it? The loss? The consequences?”

  “There’s always risk in working with predators,” Dr. Wu says. “Not only dinosaurs. Think of the big cats that have attacked trainers. They are always only so tame. But part of this island operates like a wildlife refuge. And certain dangers come with that. We take precautions. We have protocols and weaponry and drills. But sometimes mistakes happen. That is what it means to be human.”

  “These kinds of mistakes shouldn’t happen,” I say, feeling as small as my voice sounds.

  “Mistakes will always happen,” Dr. Wu says, his usual bluntness still there, but his eyes are soft as he looks at me with sympathy. “It is what we choose to learn from them that makes a difference.”

  “I don’t know what I’ve learned from this,” I say dully.

  “I think you do,” Dr. Wu says. “You’ve learned which kind of mistakes are unacceptable. What you do with that knowledge…well, that’s up to you, isn’t it?”

  “What would you do with it?” I ask.

  “Knowledge is power, Claire. It’s not just a quaint adage. It’s the truth. You have been given a unique perspective on this place. So will you take advantage of that? Or will you run from it?”

  “You make it sound like it’s an opportunity,” I say.

  “It is,” Dr. Wu says. “An opportunity born out of a tragic mistake. Ask yourself, what would it be like to be the person making the decisions? Making sure the mistakes made this first summer you spent here never happen again? You could leave, live a boring little life, or you could stay and be part of something truly revolutionary. And someday, if you work hard enough, you might climb high enough to be in charge of it all.”

  My breath hitches; the idea soars inside me, and it’s like finding a key to something I didn’t know was locked up. Me…in charge of the park. Making sure everyone is safe. Making sure tragedies like Izzie’s and Justin’s deaths never happen again. Being in complete control.

  It’s a dazzling thought…a great gift Dr. Wu has given me. Something to distract me, something for me to fix, and a solution—all in one neat ambition.

  There’s a knock on Dr. Wu’s office door, and he calls “Enter!” over my shoulder.

  “Dr. Wu, we need you,” says the scientist who pokes her head in.

  “Can you find your way out?” Dr. Wu asks me.

  I nod, still stunned by the prospects he’s laid out.

  He hesitates before going, his gaze meeting mine. “Be well, Claire,” he says. “Think about what I said. It gives and it takes.”

  The sun’s rising high in the sky—it must be close to noon—as I drive back to the hotel. I visit my room briefly, just long enough to grab Izzie’s notebook. This time, instead of taking the back way, I make sure the security guard—a woman with hair almost as red as mine—sees me. She follows at a discreet distance as I make my way to the valley, and keeps going past the turnoff that I take. I
ignore it, park and get out of the jeep, then climb the bluff overlooking the valley. I sit down on a bench made of a couple of sawhorses and a sturdy board and watch the Triceratops in the distance below. A Brachiosaurus is grazing on the tops of trees, her head bobbing along through the thicket.

  I take Izzie’s map out from where I’ve slipped it between the pages of the notebook and tuck it into my pocket for safekeeping. And then I wait.

  It doesn’t take him long. His spy would’ve told him that this is where I wandered off to. As I hear the car door shut, I force myself to keep looking out at the valley, instead of toward Mr. Masrani, who strides up the hill, looking at home in the wild, even in his ten-thousand-dollar suit.

  “I hope I am not interrupting your solitude,” he says, coming to sit next to me.

  “I was waiting for you,” I say, because there’s no point in dancing around this. He’s got more power than most people could even dream of. And I’m about to try to meet him step for step, power to power. It scares me. It thrills me. It ignites me, burning away whatever was left of the girl who first stepped on this island, leaving the one who stepped into the jungle, a stunner in her hands and nothing but fight in her heart.

  “You want to talk?” Mr. Masrani asks.

  “What did you do with the Raptor?” I ask, and it almost surprises me, the question that comes from my lips. It isn’t how I wanted to start this conversation.

  But looking out at the valley, it’s one of the first things that springs into my head.

  There’s a weighty, unsure silence. “Euthanasia is required if a carnivore is the cause of human harm in my park,” he said.

  “So she’s already gone too.” Am I supposed to be glad? Feel like justice was done?

  I don’t know. The world—the park—is safer because of Mr. Masrani’s choice. But there’s a voice inside me that tells me it’s wrong. That the people who created her shouldn’t be ending her.

  Maybe some creatures just can’t be tamed. Maybe we shouldn’t even try.

  “It was necessary, Claire,” Mr. Masrani said. “And painless.”