Michael Crichton - The Lost World

Thorne saw other movement beneath the trees. "There's more."

"Oh yes," Levine said. "This particular pack is very large." He picked up binoculars, and peered through them. "I'd like to locate their nest, he said. "I haven't been able to find it anywhere on the island. Of course they're secretive, but even so…"

The parasaurs were all crying loudly, moving closer to the apatosaur herd as they did so. But the big apatosaurs seemed relatively indifferent; the adults nearest the water actually turned their backs to the approaching raptor.

"Don't they care?" Arby said. "They're not even looking at him,"

"Don't be fooled," Levine said, "the apatosaurs care very much. They may look like gigantic cows, but they're nothing of the sort. Those whiptails are thirty or forty feet long, and weigh several tons. Notice how fast they can swing them. One smack from those tails would snap an attacker's back."

"So turning away is part of their defense?"

"Unquestionably, yes. And you can see now how the long necks balance their tails."

The tails of the adults were so long, they reached entirely across the river, to the other shore. As they swung back and forth, and the parasaurs cried out, the lead raptor turned away. Moments later, the entire pack began to slink off, following the edge of the trees, heading up into the hills.

"Looks like you're right," Thorne said. "The tails scared them off."

"How many do you count?" Levine said.

"I don't know. Ten. No, wait - fourteen. Maybe more. I might have missed a few."

"Fourteen." Malcolm scribbled in his notebook.

"You want to follow them?" Levine said.

"Not now."

"We could take the Explorer."

"Maybe later," Malcolm said.

"I think we need to know where their nest is," Levine said. "It's essential, Ian, if we're going to settle predator-prey relationships. Nothing is more important than that. And this is a perfect opportunity to follow - "

"Maybe later," Malcolm said. He checked his watch again.

"That's the hundredth time you've checked your watch today," Thorne said.

Malcolm shrugged. "Getting to be lunchtime," he said. "By the way, what about Sarah? Shouldn't she be arriving soon?"

"Yes. I imagine she'll show up any time now," Thorne said.

Malcolm wiped his forehead. "It's hot up here."

"Yes, it's hot."

They listened to the buzzing of insects in the midday sun, and watched the raptors retreat.

"You know, I'm thinking," Malcolm said. "Maybe we ought to go back."

"Go back?" Levine said. "Now? What about our observations? What about the other cameras we want to place and - "

"I don't know, maybe it'd be good to take a break."

Levine stared at him in disbelief. He said nothing.

Thorne and the kids looked at Malcolm silently.

"Well, it seems to me," Malcolm said, "that if Sarah's coming all the way from Africa, we should be there to greet her." He shrugged. "I think it's simple politeness."

Thorne said, "I didn't realize that, uh…"

"No, no," Malcolm said quickly. "It's nothing like that. I just, uh…You know, maybe she's not even coming." He looked suddenly uncertain. "Did she say she was coming?"

"She said she'd think about it."

Malcolm frowned. "Then she's coming. If Sarah said that she's corning. I know her. So. What do you say, want to go back?"

"Certainly not," Levine said, peering through binoculars. "I wouldn't dream of leaving here now."

Malcolm turned. "Doc? Want to go back?"

"Sure," Thorne said, wiping his forehead. "It's hot."

"If I know Sarah," Malcolm said, climbing down the scaffolding, she's going to show up on this island just looking great."

She struggled upward, and her head broke the surface, but she saw only water - great swells rising fifteen feet above her, on all sides. The power of the ocean was immense. The surge dragged her forward, then back, and she was helpless to resist. She could not see the boat anywhere, only foaming sea, on all sides. She could not see the island, only water. Only water. She fought a sense of overwhelming panic.

She tried to kick against the current, but her boots were leaden. She sank down again, and struggled back, gasping for air. She had to get her boots off, somehow. She gulped a breath and ducked her head under the water, and tried to unlace the boots. Her lungs burned as she fumbled with the knots. The ocean swept her back and forth, ceaselessly

She got one boot off, gulped air, and ducked down again. Her fingers were stiff with cold and fright, as she worked on the other boot. It seemed to take hours. Finally her legs were free, light, and she dogpaddled, catching her breath. The surge lifted her high, dropped her again. She could not see the island. She felt panic again. She turned, and felt the surge lift once more. And then she saw the island

The sheer cliffs were close, frighteningly close. The waves boomed as they smashed against the rocks. She was no more than fifty yards offshore, being swept inexorably toward the crashing surf On the next crest, she saw the cave, a hundred yards to her right. She tried to swim toward it, but it was hopeless. She had no power at all to move in this gigantic surf. She felt only the strength of the sea, sweeping her to the Cliffs.

Panic made her heart race. She knew she would be instantly killed. A wave crested over her; she gulped sea water, and coughed. Her eyes blurred. She felt nausea and deep, deep terror.

She put her head down and began to swim, arm over arm, kicking as hard as she could. She had no sense of movement, only the sideways pull of the surge. She dared not look up. She kicked harder. When she raised her head for another breath, she saw she had moved a little - not much, but a little - to the north. She was a little nearer to the cave.

She was encouraged, but she was terrified. She had so little strength! Her arms and legs ached with her effort. Her lungs burned. Her breath came in short ragged heaving gasps. She coughed again, grabbed another breath, put her head down and kicked onward.

Even with her head in the water, she heard the deep boom of the surf against the cliffs. She kicked with all her might. The currents and surge moved her left and right, forward and back. It was hopeless. But still she tried.

Gradually, the ache in her muscles became a steady drill pain. She felt she had lived with this pain all her life. She did not notice it any more. She kicked on, oblivious.

When she felt the surge lift her up again, she raised her head for a breath. She was startled to see that the cave was very close. A few more strokes and she would be swept inside it. She had thought the current might be less severe around the cave. But it wasn't; on either side of the opening, the waves crashed high, climbing the cliff walls, and then falling back. The boat was nowhere in sight.

She ducked her head down again, kicked forward, using the last of her strength. She could feel her entire body weakening. She could not last much longer. She knew she was being carried toward the cliffs. She heard the boom of the surf louder now, and she kicked again, and suddenly a huge swell swept her up, lifting her, carrying her toward the cliffs. She was powerless to resist it. She raised her head to look, and saw darkness, inky darkness.

In her exhaustion and pain, she realized that she was inside the cave. She had been swept into the cave! The booming sound was hollow, reverberating. It was too dark to see the walls on either side. The current was intense, sweeping her ever deeper. She gasped for breath and paddled ineffectually. Her body scraped against rock; she felt a moment of searing pain, and then she was swept farther into the depths of the cave. But now there was a difference. She saw faint light on the ceiling, and the water around her seemed to glow. The surge lessened. She found it easier to keep her head above water. She saw hot light ahead, brilliantly hot - the end of the cave.