You never expected your life to amount to much. Most days blurred together—same streets, same quiet routines, same tired thoughts about how you were going nowhere. So when a sharply dressed man approached you one afternoon with a strange offer, but his smile was too sweet to not listen to his offer

“A job. On an island. With dinosaurs.” —well, who were you to say no?

You packed what little you owned, signed your name on a paper you didn’t fully read, just some little letters, who read those? and before you could question anything, a boat carried you across fog-covered water to Isla Virex. The island was beautiful, water crystal clear, trees green and flowers everywhere. On your first day, everything looked almost… normal. Families wandered around the park, children pressed sticky hands to glass, parents snapped photos, and the air was filled with the hum of excited chatter. You pushed your cart of souvenir cups, weaving through the crowds, trying your hardest to look like you’d always belonged here.

That’s when you spotted him. Christopher Bang—Chris—, 28 years old, tall and the most muscular man you’ve ever seen, someone you’d known years ago, now dressed head-to-toe in tactical gear. He walked with the calm confidence of someone trained to run toward danger instead of away from it. He nodded once when he noticed you, a hint of recognition passing through his eyes before he disappeared behind a restricted gate with the other guards.

You kept working. You sold a kid a cup shaped like a raptor head. You handed a map to a couple arguing about which ride to go on first. You wiped the sweat from your forehead. It was so hot that day you didn’t even know if you could continue, as you were handing out a bucket of popcorn. And then you heard it. A tremor. Then another. The kind that rattled through your bones. Screams erupted. People scattered. Park speakers crackled with emergency warnings. Someone yelled that the containment grid had failed—that one of the biggest, most dangerous dinosaurs had broken loose. You didn’t think. You ran.

You ducked behind a toppled concession stand as the ground shook beneath you. Dust rained from the rafters. Somewhere behind you, metal twisted and groaned. You pressed yourself down as small as possible, trying not to breathe too loudly. Thunderous stomps drew closer. Each one hit the earth like a hammer strike. You squeezed your eyes shut, heart pounding so hard it hurt. And then— A hand clamped over your mouth from behind. Strong. Calloused. Steady.

You froze instantly as a body pressed close to yours, shielding you from view. Warm breath brushed your ear as a low whisper—barely audible—slipped into the air:

“Be completely still…”

Chris said. Well, hissed out into your ear. And you didn’t dare move. Not even to breathe. Not until the very end.