Of the things I forgot

Jurassic

It is silent.

I can feel that I'm lying on the ground, a stone is poking me in the back.

I softly groan, I'm in pain.

I slowly open my eyes. Grass. Roots. I must be in a forest.

Something in my face feels crusty. As I touch it, I see dark red flakes on my hand, bruises and scratches. Was I... bleeding?

I sit up.

I only now notice how warm it is, humid, hot. I'm in a jungle.

The calls of tropical birds fill the air, but they are farther away than they probably should be.

I look down on myself, my clothes are a bit torn, and surrounding me are branches of various sizes.

I try to stand up, walk for a bit to see if everything works like it's supposed to, but just after standing I can feel nausea rise within me and I shakingly sit down again.

Where am I?

I can remember... little. An island I was sent to investigate, along with a few others. An only partially legal helicopter-ride. Something, smaller than the helicopter, bigger than a seagull... I try to dig through my memories. Big for something that's able to fly... maybe an albatross? No, it was weirdly discoloured for it being that.

I wonder why it came this close to us.

And then Kareem lost control, maybe a combination of an air hole and the animal incident, but we were swirling and the trees and the cliffs and the trees... when we hit the treetops things came crashing down, everything that wasn't tied down flew through the air, hit us like bricks.

I think we came to a halt in a very thick and sturdy tree, most of us what felt like barely conscious.

I must have managed to climb out, or more fall out of the trees. I don't know why I did so, but I'm glad I'm still alive.

I am alive.

Where are the others? Are they alive and well too? My mind is spinning and spinning, not just with thoughts but with light-headedness as well. I need to concentrate, to at least try and ignore the nausea for now.

I don't have a walkie-talkie with me, so I'll have to search for them without one. I look up, the trees silently watching over me. If I'm here, the helicopter must be somewhere above me. I see damaged branches; we definitely came through here. As I follow the line of destruction, I see dragonflies, but way bigger than any I have ever seen. Maybe three quarters of a meter in wingspan, they are gigantic; silently flying from A to B, always observing their surroundings with possibly far more than 30.000 eyes.

Then I see the rudder and tail rotor of the helicopter peeking out of the thicket above me. Nothing seems to be burning, but there also is no sign of life.

I freeze.

The giant dragonflies. They are Meganeura.

I remember where we crashed. Isla Nublar, an island in the Pacific Ocean, almost 200 kilometres west of Costa Rica. Here live the reminders of an old age, one long gone by, who have been reawaken by scientists. And a failed amusement park, built on their backs, with a foundation of amber and DNA.

I listen for noises in the bush, they could be hiding anywhere.

As it stays silent, I try to scoot over to the tree I most likely fell out of, watching, listening, staying alert.