Dinosaur Isle

By Tracy Lee Ford

After 65 million years dinosaurs once again walk the Earth on three islands near Guam. D.N.A. (Dinosaur National Association) used their funding, modern paleontological research along with modern DNA research, have ‘grown’ dinosaurs. Dozens of dinosaurs of all sizes roam the largest of islands. 

The islands are not open to

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stratton Press
• Release date: Mar 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9781643454474

Tracy Lee Ford

I am a self-taught paleontologist and paleo-artist. I've been writing articles and presenting talks and papers since 1997. I have had dozens of articles published in scientific publications and have named three dinosaurs. I enjoy writing, both scientifically as well as Science Fiction. I have a love for dinosaurs and want to express this through this book and help bring back dinosaurs, as scientifically accurate as I can.

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Acknowledgments

I would like to thank my family, which has supported me with my love of dinosaurs and paleontology. I’d like to thank George Olshevsky, my good friend if not for him I would never have continued with paleontology. I’d like to also thank my friends and colleagues in paleontology that have supported and encouraged me through the years and whose research helped with the science of this book: Phil Currie, Darren Tanke, John Horner, Ken Carpenter, Ralph Molnar, Hans Larson, Mary Schweitzer, and countless others living and passed away. I’d like to thank my good friend Tom Kaye for all his support of me and my projects over the years. I’d like to thank my friend, Don Glut, my aunt Victoria Carroll, my cousin Karen Ford, and Alan Dean Foster, who gave me advice on how to approach this book. I’d like to thank Alan Debus and Lynne M. Clos on how I should publish my novel. I would like to thank my good friend Edwin (ET) Thompson, who gave me the information about Inkwater. Linda Franklin who copy-edited my novel, and I would finally like to thank my good friend Lisa, whose encouragement allowed me to finally write the novel.

Prologue

What the hell was I thinking? I’m in a steaming cab, in Guam, at midnight. Those rumors had better be spot on , the tall, dark-haired white man thought. He stared out the window into the dark, still night, as he sat silently in the back seat of the dilapidated taxi, its bright yellow paint long ago faded, his dark blue suit and light blue tie totally out of place in this sleepy town. He adjusted himself to get a more comfortable spot, his sweat-soaked cloths squeaked on the old leather seat. The seams of the seat were ripped apart, revealing dirty brown cotton underneath. The cabbie never took the time or money to fix up the cab. As long as it ran, that was all he needed.

The cab driver, a scruffy old man with leathery skin, a scraggly beard, and a New York tattered baseball cap that sat squarely on his balding head, happily smoked a large Cuban cigar. He took long puffs and blew smoke rings into the rearview mirror all the while staring at his passenger, who sat behind him. The cabbie didn’t say a word to his passenger nor his passenger to him.

An hour had passed and it was now nearly one in the morning. Even at that hour, the weather was still hot and humid. The cab’s air conditioner had died years ago, losing its long battle with the climate. All the cab’s windows were rolled down to try to let in whatever cool air there might be. Much to their dismay, there was no difference in temperature, especially since the cab was no longer moving. Both had beads of sweat running down their faces and their sweat perspiration-saturated clothes clung to their bodies, and their bodies to the seats.

The passenger glanced out the window, paying no heed to the driver who chuckled to himself from time to time. The well-dressed man pulled out a bottle of warm water from his coat’s inner pocket, unscrewed the lid, and took a swig. He let out a barely audible sigh, screwed the lid back on, and replaced it in his coats inner pocket. The cab’s engine was running because the cabbie knew if he turned off the engine he might not be able to start it up again. The parked cab was illuminated by a street light in a vacant parking lot. The street light hummed cast a pale yellow light on the taxi, while hundreds of bugs swarmed around its warm glow.

Across from the parking lot and on the other side of the empty main street was the strip club (the strip club had long lost its title of a gentleman’s club) in the town of Agat, Guam. After what seemed like hours the front door to the strip club opened and someone flicked the beam of a flashlight a few times in the direction of the cab. The taxi driver smiled, stuck his cigar in his mouth and bit down hard to keep it in place, uttered something unintelligible, and drove up to the strip club. The cabs rear tires kicked up rock and gravel. The cab pulled up to two young Chamorro men who were waiting at the door of the club. Both young men wore blue jeans with white tank tops, their light brown skin and dark hair, a strake contrast. They stood with their arms folded, both did their best to look menacing, and neither said a word.

The passenger exited the cab, and threw a crumpled fifty-dollar bill at the cabbie who stuffed the bill into his shirt pocket. He drove off laughing through his clenched teeth while chomping down on his cigar, leaving a trail of laughter and cigar smoke out of his window.

The well-dressed man followed the two young men into the strip club. They walked past the bouncer, whose gaze never wavered off of him. The three of them walked through the smoke-filled club where beautiful young women pole-danced to the delight of the clubs patrons. The music was loud and nearly deafening. While they walked purposefully through the club they paid no attention to the women. Once the man was led to a door at the back of the strip club, one of the young Chamorro men rapped on the door with his knuckles.

A small window opened up and an aged set of eyes looked out. The aged man eyed the three men, stopping when he viewed the out-of-place man. He let out a huff and slammed the window shut. A few moments later the door creaked open and the two young Chamorro men stood guard as the white man walked in alone.

Right away the man could tell there was some sort of gambling going on. The room was filled with more smoke than the room outside and he nearly choked. The sparse lighting gave the smoke-filled room a hazy glow. Dozens of men were yelling and screaming as they waved money in their hot sweaty hands. Several men walked around taking the money for bets. The man walked to the back of the room, up a flight of stairs, and sat alone at the top of small bleacher. The front center of the room had a large glass cage, about seven feet tall by twenty feet, with two smaller doors at each end, each about three feet tall. The top of the cage was open. The cage reminded the man of a dog- or cock-fighting ring like the ones he had seen years earlier.

A sweaty man walked up to the well-dressed man and yelled something he could barely make out, but was able to understand he was being asked how much he wanted to wager. He brought out a crisp hundred-dollar bill and handed it to the obnoxious man, pointing to the door on the left. The sweaty man snatched the bill and waved it over his head, yelling something unintelligible. The room erupted in laughter and the crowd started to wave more money. A few minutes later more men filtered through the room and sat close to the white man, nudged him and tried to get him to say something. Their bodies reeked something fierce, because of their hot sweaty bodies and the cigarette smoke. A whistle was blown, the lights dimmed, and the room nearly went silent. The cage itself was still lit up, though looking at the cage was like looking through the silt of an aquarium from the inside out.

The left side door in the cage opened up with a strain. Once the door was fully open a six-foot-long scaly raptor strutted out. The well-dressed man was shocked at what he saw, and he leaned forward trying to get a better look at the strange beast. There standing in front of them all was a real live dinosaur! The rumors he had heard were true, he could no longer pass it off as someone’s fantasy or an urban legend. The raptor held its arms close to its sides with its palms facing each other, like a plucked bird with its wings folded. Each hand had three long fingers ending in large curved claws. Its feet had two long toes with one large curved killer claw on its inner second toe and a final small first toe slightly above the second toe. Its eyes glowed yellow, with a tiny speck of black where its pupil was. Around its eyes was light blue with a few red spots and its body was dull brown with vertical light yellow stripes. Small flat triangular serrated upper teeth protruded from its closed mouth, which glistened from the humidity. A long thin tail perfectly balanced its body. The man thought the raptor looked like a mutated plucked turkey and observed the beast walked it held its killer claw off the ground, so as to not dull it. The other toe claws clicked on the wooden floor of the cage, similar to taps on shoes.

The predator walked around the cage, bellowing loudly in chirps and clicks, and trying to eye the audience. These chips reminded the out-of-place man of a bird singing. Because the lights were dimmed in the room, the raptor couldn’t see past the glass but could still hear the men on the other side. Angrily the beast snapped at the glass and let out low short chirps. The raptor’s head bobbed back and forth as it strutted about the cage, its movement reminding the man of a pigeon’s gait.

The crowd laughed and yelled obscenities at the raptor. A few minutes later the second door rose gradually and a second, smaller raptor quickly ran out, nearly hitting its head on the rising door. The new opponent slid to a halt and the man immediately noted that this one was different. Like the first one, this one jerked its head from side to side but seemed to be more fidgety, while the first one seemed more composed. The second raptor was the more colorful of the two and like the first one looked like a plucked turkey, but to be honest, the man couldn’t make much out due to the room’s dim lighting. What he could see was that the new one had a deep blue coloring around its eyes, with a red crest adorning the top of its head and a body that was spotted like a cheetah.

Immediately the red-crested raptor circled the striped raptor, squawking at it and bobbing its head from side to side. The striped raptor answered back with its own head bobbing and loud squawking. Both raised their arms above their backs, exposing their three large hand claws, it was as if each was trying to slowly flap its wings. The room erupted in yells, screams, obscenities, and laughter that was nearly deafening.

The crested raptor lunged at the first one, who adeptly avoided the clumsy attack. The crested raptor quickly turned around and lunged again with its arms outstretched trying to grab the striped raptor with its six strong recurved clawed fingers, but again the striped raptor adeptly stepped aside. The crested aggressor ran past the striped raptor, raking the crested raptor with one of its powerful seconded killer foot claws and injuring the dinosaur.

While the fight continued, the man pushed a button on his watch, something that no one perceived. He was enthralled by the fight and his gaze never left the raptors’ bizarre dance. A few minutes later the door burst open and well-armed men with dark green body armor came crashing in, shouting over the din of the crowd, waving hand guns, rifles, and machine guns at the patrons. They waved their guns and ordered everyone to lie down on the floor that is except for the well-dressed man. This in turn made him stand out.

He was more intent on watching the dance of the raptors than the patrons or even the men with guns. As the armed men were gathering the patrons up, the striped raptor finished off the crested raptor. With outstretched wings the striped raptor held the crested raptor from behind and dug its claws into the sides of the crested raptor. The striped raptor nimbly avoided the crested raptor’s weak kicks, and head lunges. With a swift downward kick, the striped raptor’s killer claw left a long deep cut along the crested raptor’s ribcage. Blood streamed out along the long deep gash and onto the wooden floor, staining it a deep dark red. The losing raptor dropped to its knees and let out a yelp that could be heard over the screaming crowd. When the striped raptor let the crested one out of its death grip, the crested raptor stood up and staggered around the cage, while its blood poured out of the gash. The striped raptor eyed the now dying raptor intently. The man sat in his seat, staring at the raptors with awe.

The crested raptor finally fell to the ground and when it did the striped raptor took advantage of the situation and jumped on the now heaving body. The victor stood with one foot securely on the loser’s throat and the other on its ribcage, digging its killer claw deep into the dying raptor body. The striped raptor bit down purposefully hard just behind its captive’s head and held its neck in a vise-like bite, then shook its head strongly and broke its neck, killing it instantly. Once the victor was satisfied that the second raptor was dead, it stood in triumph with outstretched arms, craned its neck skyward, and let out several short loud squawks, blood dripping from its teeth and claws.

The man thought the winning raptor was singing like a bird in triumph. Satisfied with the kill, the victor walked resolutely toward the glass wall. The raptor jumped up the back of the glass and scampered up the wood strut of the wall, using its second killer claw like a climber’s crampons and its outstretched arms and legs like a monkey climbing up a tree. Once atop the glass wall it stopped, and perched itself. The man was transfixed by the animal as it looked out, blinking its eyes as if trying to see through the fog of cigarette smoke. It tilted its head from side to side, squawked, and then leapt into the crowd. In mid-leap, a gunshot went off…

Chapter one

Arrival at Dinosaur Isle 3

A red and white Dauphin HH-65-A Dolphin helicopter with the insignia of D.N.A. written on its side flew southeast over the Pacific ocean toward the Truk Islands (Chuuk) in Micronesia. It had taken off in the early morning hours from Andersen Air Force Base on Guam. There were only three people on the helicopter the pilot, the copilot, and the passenger, the well-dressed man, who was sitting directly behind the copilot. The passenger had a good view out the cockpit window of the pilot. It was a clear day and the morning sun light glared off the smooth ocean surface.

As they flew closer to the islands the passenger broke the silence and asked the pilot a question. How many people have access to the islands?

They each wore a large white and red striped helmet with a microphone because of the helicopters noise. The man, still wearing his suit, looked funny in the large helmet. Remember you don’t have to shout into the mike, we can hear you just fine, the pilot said with a smirk.

Right, sorry.

No worries, you aren’t the first. D.N.A. is the only official agency that has complete access to the islands, though sometimes the Air Force flies in for support. D.N.A. has contracted out to a few locals for some supplies, the pilot said without turning to look at the man.

Why don’t the animals escape?

That’s on a need-to-know basis, the pilot replied while looking out the cockpit window, partly ignoring the question.

The passenger pulled out a wallet from his inside jacket pocket, and flipped it open to display an official-looking badge. He touched the copilot’s shoulder and handed his opened wallet to him. The copilot looked at the badge and showed it to the pilot. The pilot nodded and the copilot handed the wallet back to the man.

We were told someone from your origination was coming out. the pilot said with a smile, glancing at the man to see him put his badge back into his inside jacket pocket. On closer approach to the island the pilot continued, See those balloons and buoys?

The man looked out his window Yes.

All around the perimeter of the islands are large red and white balloons tethered to buoys. They are emitting a constant high-pitched sound.

I thought they couldn’t hear the high pitches, the man said.

They don’t but the noise is so ‘loud’ it has their inner ears vibrating. It bugs them so much they won’t get near them.

Kind of like those ‘invisible’ dog fences.

Basically, it’s the same principle. There are also several boats circling the island to keep unwanted tourists out. Every year someone tries to sneak onto the island. Some make it out alive, some don’t.

I remember hearing about some tourists not making it out. The video on the web was amazing and sad.

The pilot continued. There are also predator drones flying over the islands for surveillance.

How many islands are there?

Dinosaur Isle is made up of three separate islands, DI1, DI2 and DI3. The original island is DI1, the Nursery/main administration building is on DI2 and the main island is DI3. The dinosaurs had to be moved to the main island after the original island became too small. You’ll be flying into DI3.

Is this the only way to get to the islands?

There is no landing strip so it’s either by helicopter, sea plane, Osprey or boat.

Ever hit a pterosaur? the passenger asked changing the subject.

No, but I’ve come close. I really don’t want to crash into one of those. Get ready we’ll be landing shortly. The rest of the flight was completed in silence.

The well-dressed man looked out the window and saw a flock of pteranodons skimming over the clear ocean water. They glided more than they flew over the surf, using the ocean’s breeze to their advantage and flapping the tips of their wings similar to how pelicans fly. Some pteranodons had long crests, others short. Their beaks were light orange with black tips, their backs were light blue-gray with white underbellies. Some Pteranodons dipped their beaks into the surf snapping up fish. The pteranodons reminded the well-dressed man of a cross between a pelican and a black skimmer. He detected some strange looking silhouettes under the surf and wondered if he was watching a sea turtle with a long tail or one with a long neck. A large undulating silhouetted following the flight path of the low flying Pteranodons, all at once breached the surface. A large mosasaur leapt out of the water and snagged a pteranodon, its body smacking the surface of the ocean leaving a foamy wake as the mosasaur pulled the pteranodon beneath the waves.

Closer to DI3 he spotted a small cove with a spinosaur basking alone on the beach. It was lying on its stomach, resting its long head on the sand. It kept its six-foot-tall sail in the wind to help cool off. Even though it was morning, it was still hot and humid. From the cove there was a small gorge with trees going from the beach to a low ridge.

As the helicopter cleared the ridge the well-dressed man looked to the south of the island and saw a large inlet with docks and boathouses, to the right he saw a large valley. The passenger watched in awe as dinosaurs ran around in the valley. Some were in small herds while others were loaners. There was a tree line to the south and a large lake, with several small streams leading to the lake from the mountains to the west. The valley itself was surrounded by mountains with the largest to the west. Sitting in the middle of the valley was a large oval building sitting on a pillar. Not far from that building was a large fenced-in area with a helicopter landing pad in the middle. Near the fenced-in landing area was a taller helicopter landing pad that was taken over by pteranodons and other smaller pterosaurs which had made it their roosting site. The pilot slowly banked the helicopter at the far end of the island allowing the man to have a longer view of the dinosaurs on the island. Then he slowly approached the landing pad.

The helicopter deliberately circled the fenced-in area (to let the man look at the dinosaurs) and then landed, kicking up a cloud of dust. The helicopter landing pad was surrounded by a tall thick wooden fence. The fence posts themselves were large tree trunks with the tops carved to a point. It reminded the well-dressed man of an old western log fort. In the landing pad was a Humvee with a lone driver.

The well-dressed man, still wearing his blue suit and brown dress shoes, his light green duffle bag at his side, stood in the middle of the fenced-in landing and watched the helicopter fly off. He briefly ruffled his hair to lose the helmet hair look. Once the helicopter flew off into the distance the man glanced over to the waiting tan-colored Humvee and saw a young blonde-haired man in his early thirties leaning up against its front bumper. The young man was chewing on a toothpick; he wore brown khaki shorts, an Australian Outback Safari hat and large dark brown hiking boots. On the right side of his black belt was a radio/phone.

The young man walked over to the well-dressed man and extended his hand. Kind of overdressed aren’t you? the young man asked as they shook hands.

Where’s Dr. Black? I was told I’d meet him here.

He’s at the MAC. I’m Joey Filborn, I’ll be taking you there, he said with a smile, his toothpick moving up and down while he talked. Joey pointed to the Humvee which had extra armor and was severely dented.

Looks like it been in a war, the man said picking up his duffle bag, and heading to the Humvee.

Welcome to Dinosaur isle, Joey said with a grin and looked at him from the side as they walked to the Humvee. The man looked closer at the vehicle. Are those claw marks? Is that tooth marks?

Have the package. Are we clear to move? Joey asked over his portable radio/phone.

Package? the man asked with a frown.

Just a little improvisation, don’t worry, he said with a smile, hitting him on his shoulder.

Yes, you are clear all the way to the MAC. The voice on the other side was that of a young woman.

Joey replaced his radio into its holster and gestured for the man to get in the Humvee. The well-dressed man opened the passenger side door and threw his duffle bag into the back seat then sat in the passenger seat. Once they closed the doors and were strapped in the gate opened up automatically with a hiss. On the other side of the gate was a two-wheeled trail leading out of the landing site and into the valley. The outside was heavily vegetated. The gate closed as Joey drove toward the MAC. The road itself was bumpy and as he drove they both were jostled about.

We don’t have money for road improvements, Joeys jokingly said.

Why don’t you have the landing site higher up? the man asked, pointing to the higher helicopter landing pad.

We did, but the pterosaurs took it over as a nesting site. The old helicopter landing pad was covered with vines, and pterosaur guano. Pteranodons and smaller pterosaurs flew around the landing pad and landed on its flight deck. You may be surprised to hear pterosaurs don’t climb trees. They are ground dwellers and take off from the ground. You don’t see any hanging on the sides do you? That’s because they all are on the landing pad’s flat flight deck.

So they take off like an albatross?

No, more like a bat.

A bat?

I take it you haven’t seen a bat take off from the ground. They jump forward and up, then take a powerful down stroke that helps push them in the air. Kind of looks odd really. He let that sink in, then continued. "The old helicopter landing pads deck is a large flat area that the Pteranodon’s think is just a big cliff," he said, pointing to the pad as he drove by.

You should see the azhdarchid’s. Now those are huge pterosaurs, Joey said leaning forward and looking up in the sky through the windshield. The vegetation became less dense Look, there’s one now, he said pointing to the right.

A large shadow blocked out the sun and a large azhdarchid glided overhead. Joey slowed to a stop and both watched the pterosaur as it landed near them. The azhdarchid performed a short stall, its hind feet lightly touched the ground and then it dropped down onto its folded wings. Its wings never touched the ground. After it touched down gently it started to walk on all fours toward the other azhdarchid’s that were waiting for its arrival.

Wow, its wing span is bigger than a Cessna, the man said in awe. They watched as the pterosaur was greeted by the other azhdarchids. Standing twice as tall as a man, they clacked their toothless beaks and bobbed their necks back and forth. They kind of look like a four-legged crane. Are they furry? I thought they’d be scaly, he asked, squinting at the pterosaurs.

No they aren’t furry. It’s more complicated than that, the ‘fur’ is more like a feather. Did you notice that the length of the neck is equal too the length of the head? Joey asked as they watched the greetings.

After that Joey started to drive toward the MAC again. The man turned to Joey and asked So what does MAC stand for?

Joey smiled, bumping around in his seat. Nothing, it just looks like a Big MAC. We could have called it the Whopper, but that didn’t go over very well.

It didn’t take long to get to the MAC. Once they turned a corner in the road he could see, in the middle of