The Evolution of Claire

by Tess Sharpe

  “I understand,” I say, like maybe if I say it, it’ll be true.

  “I know this all has been very hard on you,” he said. “If there’s anything I can do…”

  “You said…that night…you said you owed me a debt.” I wish my voice were stronger. I can’t look at him. I keep my focus on the valley below, where Lovelace is rubbing her growing horns against the grass. They’re probably itchy.

  “I owe you quite the debt,” Mr. Masrani says. “You hit the alarm.”

  “I trapped us in there with the Raptor,” I say.

  “It was an unselfish act,” Mr. Masrani says. “You acted for the well-being of the whole rather than for yourself.”

  “I made a split-second decision,” I say. “I don’t know if it was the right one.”

  “You saved many lives, Claire,” Mr. Masrani says. “If the Raptor had gotten loose, the destruction she could’ve caused…” He lets out a long breath, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see him staring at his clasped hands. “I owe you a tremendous debt. You didn’t just save lives—human and dinosaur—you saved my park.”

  And it only cost Justin’s life.

  I’m determined that Justin’s death will be the last.

  “The Mosby Health medical trial…the one for the kids with heart conditions…what’s going to happen with it when you take the company down?”

  “The FDA will yank their approval for the trial,” Mr. Masrani says.

  “So all that progress will just stop? The kids won’t get the treatments?”

  “Without the money or approval to back it, no, they won’t.” He doesn’t sound too concerned.

  I don’t steel myself, I just say it: “That’s what I want. For my favor. I want you to make sure that trial continues. I want Victory Skye to continue her treatment. And I want her education paid for, after the trial saves her. I want to make sure that little girl goes on to live the long, happy, healthy life she deserves.”

  Mr. Masrani raises an eyebrow. Just one. A delicate arch that’s both amused and shocked at my hubris.

  “You want me to fund a costly medical trial? And an education? That’s a bold ask.”

  “She deserves a fighting chance,” I say.

  “And if I say no?” Mr. Masrani asks.

  “You won’t,” I say, and he laughs. “You said I saved your park. So you’ll do this for me.”

  “You are a singular person, Claire,” he says. “Many people twice your age would never dare to speak to me so. But you could ask me for anything. Money. Introductions. Power. A job. Instead, you want me to help someone else?”

  “No one else is going to die because of this,” I answer. “The choices Tanya and Eric made, the choices I made, the sacrifice Justin made…they led us here. And an eight-year-old girl’s life depends on that treatment. So you’re going to make sure she keeps getting it—all those other kids too. Consider it a charitable contribution.”

  “And you want nothing for yourself?”

  “This is for me, too,” I say. “This is for my soul. So some part of it can be at peace.”

  “Very well,” he replies. “I will make arrangements by tomorrow.”

  “Good,” I say.

  I keep my eyes on the valley, but I can feel him watching me. I’ve thrown him off balance. Did he expect to find some sobbing girl watching the creatures she used to love but now fears? I refuse to do that. I refuse to be that. I will be strong. For Justin. For Izzie.

  For myself.

  “There’s something else,” Mr. Masrani says, almost tentatively. “More that you want to talk about? The consequences for the twins?”

  “You won’t get them in trouble,” I say. “It would be a bad look for Bright Minds. And you certainly don’t want a scandal, do you?”

  His eyes widen. “Claire,” he says. Is it a warning? A scolding? An indictment?

  It doesn’t matter.

  I smile, and it is not soft and it is not sweet. It is sharp. Honed by what came before all this, shaped by every step I’ve taken to get here, stained with the bitterness of a loss I still don’t know how to bear.

  I am not the same as I was. I am different. I am more than I was in some ways. Less in others. I’m still learning…but I’ve always been a quick study.

  “I figured something out,” I tell him. “A solution to a problem no one’s been able to fix.”

  His eyes sparkle. “Really?”

  “I know why some of your dinosaurs keep getting bronchial infections,” I say, and the sparkle fades from his dark eyes, a sudden shift to seriousness falling over his face as he straightens.

  “I’m listening,” he say intently.

  “It’s a recurring, cross-species infection,” I say. “I understand why nobody could pin down the cause—it’s a hard one.”

  “But you’ve figured it out,” Mr. Masrani says.

  “It’s the algae,” I say.

  “The algae?” he echoes.

  “The algae that grows behind the waterfall in Sector C of the Gyrosphere Valley, if this map is accurate.” I pull the copy of Izzie’s map out of my bag and hand it to him.

  “The chemicals you’re using to treat the water have combined with the deposits on the volcanic stones that make up the falls. The resulting algae produces a highly acidic effect when introduced to organic matter,” I explain as he unfolds the map and stares at the double X’s over the waterfall. “Total freak occurrence. Dr. Wu says it wasn’t something that could be predicted. But it’s burning holes in the dinosaurs’ throats, which lead to infections that disguise the original cause. But only some of them seem to like to eat the algae at all. They need a taste for it, I guess. That’s why it was only showing up across the herbivore species, not in every dinosaur. If you change the compound you add to the water or take steps to kill off the algae, it won’t be a problem anymore. Dr. Wu has a specimen of it. He’ll be able to tell you the best direction to take. You won’t have to keep medicating the dinosaurs as a precaution.”

  “How did you discover this?” Mr. Masrani asks, looking up from the map.

  “I didn’t,” I answer. At any other time, I’d feel scared about what I’m about to say. But everything feels so inconsequential now. I am numb and I am angry…and I am ready.

  His eyebrows draw together. “Then who did?”

  “Isobel James.”

  Mr. Masrani’s gaze doesn’t break from mine as I say Izzie’s name. And I see no guilt or terror in his eyes—just sadness. A deep kind of sadness that I recognize, because it’s the same thing I saw in my own eyes when I looked in the mirror this morning.

  He finally breaks our staring contest to look again at the map in his hand. “This is hers?” he asks.

  “I found one of her notebooks,” I say, nodding. “Stuffed in the box springs of my bed.”

  “Ah,” he says, understanding flitting across his face. “She must’ve had your room.”

  “Who was she?” I ask. “What happened to her here? The same thing that happened to Justin? Are you going to cover up his death like you did hers?”

  Mr. Masrani’s fingers clench around the map. “You have the wrong idea, Claire,” he says, a note of steel in his voice.

  “Do I? Because something tells me she didn’t die quietly in her parents’ home like her obituary says. Especially because there are stats in her notebook dated the day she apparently died in Boston.”

  I should quake, standing up to this man. But it’s like I’m beyond that, the ruthless outweighing the righteous. Forever? I don’t know. I don’t think I care. Not now. Not when it makes me feel better. Not when it might help me find out the truth.

  “Izzie James was an intern,” Mr. Masrani says. “One of the select few chosen personally by me to assist my experts as we began to bring some of the dinosaurs from Isla Sorna to Isla Nublar.
”

  “She figured out the algae problem,” I say. “I’m guessing she died before she got a chance to tell anyone.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Masrani says hoarsely.

  I wait, half sick, wondering if he’ll tell me the truth, and if I can even tell between his truths and his lies.

  “Izzie was quite gifted,” Mr. Masrani says. “Not just intellectually. She had this way with the dinosaurs. The kind of energy that all great trainers have. It’s…I don’t know. There’s not a scientific explanation for it. Perhaps a spiritual one? She had that touch. They trusted her, the Brachiosauruses. She bonded with them faster and in ways I’d never seen in all my…” He trails off, that sadness in his eyes deepening. “After her surgery, Olive had a rough time. And then Agnes started getting sick. Everyone was working around the clock. And then…the storm hit.”

  A chill goes through me.

  “We had very little warning. It covered the island fast and hard, and we had a very small window during which to evacuate. But Izzie…she didn’t want to leave them.”

  My eyes narrow. “Are you telling me that she just refused to evacuate?”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “She was headed to the evacuation point when an overloaded fuse box started a fire in the paddock Olive was being kept in for recovery. There was no way to open the paddock to free Olive remotely, with the power so unreliable. She would’ve likely survived the fire with bad burns, but the smoke inhalation…with her surgical wounds still healing…She would’ve died. There was no way to give her a fighting chance.”

  “Izzie went back to free Olive,” I say, and Mr. Masrani nods.

  “We held the boat for as long as we could, but…she never returned. The captain had to leave, and I couldn’t fight him. I had to get my people out of there.”

  He’s quiet for a long time, staring out at the valley, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “Her jeep crashed into a fallen tree heading back to the evacuation point,” he says finally. “It was fast, the doctors said. She didn’t suffer. A small, pitiful consolation to those who knew her.”

  “You covered it up,” I say. “If it really happened like that, why all the secrecy? Why not just say she died in an auto accident?”

  “Our insurance would have been revoked for an investigation,” Mr. Masrani says. “Work permits would stop being issued. Everything would be put on hold and we would be unable to build the rest of the park until it was resolved. And the PR would have been devastating. I made a choice. Perhaps it was not the best choice, but it was the one I made. I truly believe it’s the choice Izzie would’ve wanted. To protect the dinosaurs she loved. To protect the park that is their home.”

  But Mr. Masrani failed to protect Izzie.

  Just like I failed to save Justin.

  My eyes burn as I stare hard at the dirt, knowing if I meet his eyes, tears will slip down my cheeks.

  “So you bought everyone off,” I say. “Bought their silence.”

  “It’s a remarkably easy thing to do,” Mr. Masrani says, and he sounds almost sad, which is kind of a trip.

  “Will you buy Justin’s mom off?”

  Mr. Masrani shakes his head. “Ms. Hendricks has been told the truth about what happened. The contracts that you signed with the company have clauses for this type of incident.”

  “You learned your lesson from the first interns,” I say venomously.

  “I understand why you are angry, Claire,” Mr. Masrani says.

  “Do you also understand that I don’t have a good reason to believe you?” I ask.

  “Yes,” he says simply. How does he do that? Why is it so easy for him to seem so honest, when he’s covered up so much? “That is why I am going to make you an offer.”

  I wait, silent.

  “I understand if you want to leave this island and never come back,” Mr. Masrani says. “But I would like you to consider staying. Not just for the summer. I’d like you to stay until we open.”

  He’s startled me, I’ll admit it. But then my eyes narrow. “So you’re bribing me with a job?” I ask.

  “No,” Mr. Masrani says. “I cannot bring Justin back. I cannot bring Izzie back. They are losses, Claire. Great losses. All I can do now is try to make sure losses like that never happen again. And you…you are a smart young woman.”

  “There are lots of smart young women,” I say, looking back at him skeptically. “And none of them pose a risk to your company.”

  “You’re dogged,” Mr. Masrani goes on, ignoring my dig. “Figuring out Izzie’s hypothesis from her notes must’ve been difficult. You kept at it. You solved a problem that has been plaguing us since we moved the herbivores back to the valley. That alone would make me want to hire you.

  “Stay here, Claire. Work with us. Help me fix problems. Help me make this place as safe and as wondrous as it can possibly be.”

  I close my eyes, trying to tamp down my warring desires. Part of me just wants to yell at him; most of me flat-out doesn’t trust him. But there’s another part, one that wants control and power and possibility….

  That part is surging forward greedily, like a fire gobbling up the forest floor.

  The island gives and the island takes. Science gives and it takes. Progress gives and progress destroys.

  If I leave, will it just happen again?

  If I stay, can I even hope to make any kind of change?

  “You know, this is the first place where I’ve ever felt like I belonged,” I say, looking out over the valley, the dip and roll of the hills. I can hear the lowing of the Triceratops in the distance. “A different kind of home. A whole new level of being understood.”

  “And now?” Mr. Masrani asks, instead of asking And after? because that’s a little too cruel.

  “And now I feel like I don’t know anything,” I say. “My place or myself.”

  “You know why I think you feel so at home here?” Mr. Masrani asks. He doesn’t want me to answer. “This is a place of opposites. Human and dinosaur. Predator and prey. Technology and nature. Life…and death.” He sighs, hanging his head. “There are costs for progress. Some we expect to pay. Others we do not.”

  “And the cost of this place of opposites is Izzie’s and Justin’s lives,” I say—or maybe I ask…I can’t even tell anymore. Should it be a question or a statement? Because it’s a fact, isn’t it? I’d be naive to think it wasn’t. I’d be foolish to ask him that.

  And I will not be naive or foolish, ever again. I have learned that lesson; Tanya’s betrayal is still a fresh scab in my heart.

  “Izzie gave her life for Olive’s safety,” Mr. Masrani says. “It shouldn’t have happened. But it did. You may not like the way it was handled, Claire, but she saved Olive. And for someone like Izzie? That is a good death.”

  I look at him, horror and awe swirling inside me. A good death. Is there such a thing?

  “And for Justin…”

  “Don’t you dare tell me that was a good death,” I grit out, my voice so low it sounds almost deadly. All I can think about is Justin gasping in my arms, the effort it took to say those last few words before…“It was horrible and unfair and it will never, ever be good or even okay. It’ll never be right, what happened.”

  “What happened was he sacrificed himself for you,” Mr. Masrani says, and there it is. Another fact I don’t want to face. “It’s a small comfort, I’m sure.”

  “It’s no comfort,” I choke out. “He died because of me.”

  “For you,” Mr. Masrani corrects me gently. His gentleness makes those long-held-back tears slip free. I bite my lip, taking quick and shuddering breaths, wiping the tears away as fast as they come. Gaining control on the next exhale. A there-and-gone moment that he witnesses, that I can’t hide, even though I so desperately want to.

  “You may not call it a good death,” Mr. Masrani says. “It was unfai
r. It was horribly premature. And the loss is immeasurable. But what Justin did was what any person hopes they are brave enough to do, if that terrible moment ever comes. He protected the person he loved with his life.”

  I can’t say anything to that. Because it’s a burden I’m going to live with forever: He died for me. He’s gone, and I’m here.

  “I hope you consider my offer,” Mr. Masrani says. “If you want to go home, I can have a private plane waiting for you within the hour. But I very much hope you will stay. That you’ll be here, working with us, when the park opens.”

  He turns and leaves me looking down into the valley, watching Lovelace and her friends.

  I don’t know if I believe him about Izzie. I think about that little scrap of paper tucked in the notebook pocket. Watch your back.

  It wasn’t her handwriting. What does it mean? Was someone trying to warn her? Threaten her? Does it have something to do with her car accident? Did someone stop her from getting to the evacuation point in time, or was it just a tragic accident?

  There were so many people on the island—if someone had targeted Izzie, Mr. Masrani might not realize that her accident wasn’t an accident at all. That, maybe, is the scariest thought. That the man in charge isn’t diabolical—he just doesn’t have total control, and yet he thinks he does.

  You’ll never find out if you leave.

  It’s a tiny voice inside me, but it’s there. Lurking. Piping up at the most annoying moment.

  Do I owe it to her to find out for sure? I can’t do anything for Justin. But for Izzie…

  Maybe I can do some good to outweigh the bad that has happened.

  The sun’s setting behind the valley now, and I watch the Tri-ceratops gather and head toward the watering hole for dinner. I get up myself and walk down the bluff, tilting my face to the fading sun.

  If I stay, I’ve made a decision: I will not allow anyone or anything to take from me again. Not the wildness that permeates every inch of this place. Not the creatures that are more awe-inspiring than anything in existence. And not the people in power, who make choices that play with dinosaur and human alike.