JURASSIC NATION

Burn The House Down

Owen found himself in a lab. The walls stricken white, yellow plastic tables filled with interesting glasses of colourful liquids and computers. Owen ducked under one of the tables as he heard people walking by clumsily with gumboots on. The people walked in deep concerning conversation, using hushed tones and the phrase, keep it down often. Owen peeped his eyes over the brim of the table and checked to see if anyone else was around. Nobody was in sight.

He could feel his heart thumping and became increasingly anxious. As he was keeping guard, he easily got to his feet. His back uncoiled, legs were half numb. He rose to his waist above the table, lurching his one leg to revive it. He did a little flick of his leg which was no hope. A sweat bead was drooling down his side burns. Eventually he made it up. He refused to admit he was getting old.

Finally straightened, he darted along the alley of tables. A chord snapped up out of the floor and caught his foot. Owen tripped and stumbled, doing a somersault as he landed. A piercing screech happened as he did so. Owen lay there, on the floor, unconscious. The chord had dragged with it, two tables on either side of the alley, marked with the dangerous chemical logo. They had smashed all their ingredients and potions oof toxins into the table before them.

To Owens right, a sizzling pool of mixing blue and orange was burning through the tables and dripping on the floor, near Owens arm.

The other table caught fire which blazed and spread easily across the room. Licking every piece of furniture in sight.

Owen groaned and felt the icy creep in his left palm. His vision was haze. He awoke and saw his hand blocking a river of bubbling slimy green acid from his face. The liquid had eaten away his skin and showed three raw bones half dressed in flesh in his hand. His blood went sticky. It was painful. He jumped up and noticed the fumes. He thought he has done enough, this was the perfect job done. Owen scrambled back in the way he came, his hand in agony. He couldnt move his fingers or thumb. He felt like screaming. Yellow gunge has begun clustering around his open wound. He sprinted the short distance. And made it to the doorway. Warts had smothered his wrist and were crawling up his arm by the second. He yanked the door closed. He leaned back against the door and whimpered a little. His eyes filling up with little pink veins. He looked down at his hand, swollen beyond recognition and purple. He wondered why such toxins would be held in a lab.

"Dad!' he heard a scream.

"Maisie?" Owen yelled in reply.

Owen sprinted through the room and was back in the theatre, by the side door. He ran down the side of the wall and Maisie stumbled in his arms. He let out a small cry of pain. Maisie retreated. Claire was by her side.

"What happened?" Claire screamed as she examined Owens arm.

"Long story, I tripped..." Owen stopped as he heard a roar of fire; the curtains and the podium had caught alight. "We need to go. Where is everyone?" He asked assertively.

"They smelt fumes and scrammed." Claire said.

Owen bundled his arm close to his chest, took Maisie in the other. Claire strutted beside him. Together, they did a little run down the aisle.

"Help!" A scratchy voice echoed. "Help!"

"Who is that?" Maisie asked.

"It doesn't matter, we leaving." Owen winced.

"Someone is in there!" Claire yelled.

"We going!" Owen yelled back. His arm smothered in pus and the edges of his wounds were flaking.

A roaring scream came from inside the building.

"We have to save them." Maisie declared.

"No. We don't. Keep moving."