"It could only have been after the attack," Muldoon said. "The kid must have been in this car, after the attack. And the radio was broken, so he left it behind, too. He's a bright kid, and he knew they weren't useful."

    "If he's so bright," Gennaro said, "where'd he go? Because I'd stay right here and wait to be picked up."

    "Yes," Muldoon said. "But perhaps he couldn't stay here. May the tyrannosaur came back. Or some other animal. Anyway, something made him leave."

    "Then where'd he go?" Gennaro said,

    "Let's see if we can determine that," Muldoon said, and he strode off toward the main road.

    Gennaro watched Muldoon peering at the ground with his flashlight. His face was just inches from the mud, intent on his search. Muldoon really believed he was on to something, that at least one of the kids was still alive. Gennaro remained unimpressed. The shock of finding the severed leg had left him with a grim determination to close the park, and destroy it. No matter what Muldoon said, Gennaro suspected him of unwarranted enthusiasm, and hopefulness, and-

    "You notice these prints?" Muldoon asked, still looking at the ground. "What prints?" Gennaro said.

    "These footprints-see them, coming toward us from up the road?-and they're adult-size prints. Some kind of rubber-sole sboe. Notice the distinctive tread pattern.

    Gennaro saw only mud. Puddles catching the light from the flashlights.

    "You can see," Muldoon continued, "the adult prints come to here, where they're joined by other prints. Small, and medium-size . . . moving around in circles, overlapping . . . almost as if they're standing together, talking. . . . But now here they are, they seem to be running. He pointed off. "There. Into the park."

    Gennaro shook his head. "You can see whatever you want in this mud."

    Muldoon got to his feet and stepped back. He looked down at the ground and sighed. "Say what you like, I'll wager one of the kids survived. And maybe both. Perhaps even an adult as well, if these big prints belong to someone other than Regis, We've got to search the park."

    "Tonight?" Gennaro said.

    But Muldoon wasn't listening. He had walked away, toward an embankment of soft earth, near a drainpipe for rain. He crouched again. "What was that little girl wearing?"

    "Christ," Gennaro said. "I don't know."

    Proceeding slowly, Muldoon moved farther toward the side of the road. And then they heard a wheezing sound. It was definitely an animal sound.

    "Listen," Gennaro said, feeling panic, "I think we better-"

    "Shhh," Muldoon said.

    He paused, listening.

    "It's just the wind," Gennaro said.

    They heard the wheezing again, distinctly this time. It wasn't the wind. It was coming from the foliage directly ahead of him, by the side of the road. It didn't sound like an animal, but Muldoon moved forward cautiously. He waggled his light and shouted, but the wheezing did not change character. Muldoon pushed aside the fronds of a palm.

    "What is it?" Gennaro said,

    "It's Malcolm," Muldoon said.

    Ian Malcolm lay on his back, his skin gray-white, mouth slackly open. His breath came in wheezing gasps. Muldoon handed the flashlight to Gennaro, and then bent to examine the body. "I can't find the injury," he said. "Head okay, chest, arms . . ."

    Then Gennaro shone the light on the legs. "He put a tourniquet on." Malcolm's belt was twisted tight over the right thigh. Gennaro moved the light down the leg. The right ankle was bent outward at an awkward angle from the leg, the trousers flattened, soaked in blood. Muldoon touched the ankle gently, and Malcolm groaned.

    Muldoon stepped back and tried to decide what to do next. Malcolm might have other injuries. His back might be broken. It might kill him to move him. But if they left him here, he would die of shock. It was only because he had had the presence of mind to put a tourniquet on that he hadn't already bled to death. And probably he was doomed. They might as well move him.

    Gennaro helped Muldoon pick the man up, hoisting him awkwardly over their shoulders. Malcolm moaned, and breathed in ragged gasps. "Lex," he said. "Lex . . . went . . . Lex . . ."

    "Who's Lex?" Muldoon said.

     "The little girl," Gennaro said. They carried Malcolm back to the Jeep, and wrested him into the back seat. Gennaro tightened the tourniquet around his leg. Malcolm groaned again. Muldoon slid the trouser cuff up and saw the pulpy flesh beneath, the dull white splinters of protruding bone.

    "We've got to get him back," Muldoon said.

    "You going to leave here without the kids?" Gennaro said.

    "If they went into the park, it's twenty square miles," Muldoon said, shaking his head. "The only way we can find anything out there is with the motion sensors. If the kids are alive and moving around, the motion sensors will pick them up, and we can go right to them and bring them back. But if we don't take Dr. Malcolm back right now, he'll die."

    "Then we have to go back," Gennaro said.

    "Yes, I think so."

    They climbed into the car. Gennaro said, "Are you going to tell Hammond the kids are missing?"

    "No," Muldoon said. "You are."

    Control

    Donald Gennaro stared at Hammond, sitting in the deserted cafeteria. The man was spooning ice cream, calmly eating it. "So Muldoon believes the children are somewhere in the park?"

    "He thinks so, yes."

    "Then I'm sure we'll find them."

    "I hope so," Gennaro said. He watched the old man deliberately eating, and he felt a chill.

    "Oh, I am sure we'll find them. After all, I keep telling everyone, this park is made for kids."

    Gennaro said, "Just so you understand that they're missing, sir."

    "Missing?" he snapped. "Of course I know they're missing. I'm not senile." He sighed, and changed tone again. "Look, Donald," Hammond said. "Let's not get carried away. We've had a little breakdown from the storm or whatever, and as a result we've suffered a regrettable, unfortunate accident. And that's all that's happened. We're dealing with it. Arnold will get the computers cleaned up. Muldoon will pick up the kids, and I have no doubt he'll be back with them by the time we finish this ice cream. So let's just wait and see what develops, shall we?"

    "Whatever you say, sir," Gennaro said.

    "Why?" Henry Wu said, looking at the console screen.

    "Because I think Nedry did something to the code," Arnold said. "That's why I'm checking it."

    "All right," Wu said. "But have you tried your options?"

    "Like what?" Arnold said.

    "I don't know. Aren't the safety systems still running?" Wu said. "Keychecks? All that?"

    "Jesus," Arnold said, snapping his fingers. "They must be. Safety systems can't be turned off except at the main panel."

    "Well," Wu said, "if Keycheeks is active, you can trace what he did."  

    "I sure as hell can," Arnold said. He started to press buttons. Why hadn't he thought of it before? It was so obvious. The computer system at Jurassic Park had several tiers of safety systems built into it. One of them was a keycheck program, which monitored all the keystrokes entered by operators with access to the system. It was originally installed as a debugging device, but it was retained for its security value.

    In a moment, all the keystrokes that Nedry had entered into the computer earlier in the day were listed in a window on the screen:

    13,42,121,32,88,77,19,13,122,13,44,52,77,90,13,99,13,100,13,109,55,103

    144,13,99,87,60,13,44,12,09,13,43,63,13,46,57,89,103,122,13,44,52,88,9

    31,13,21,13,57,98,100,102,103,13,112,13,146,13,13,13,77,67,88,23,13,13

    system

    nedry

    goto command level

    nedry

    040/ # xy/67&

    mr goodbytes

    security

    keycheck off

    safety off

    sl off

    security

    whte_rbt.obj

    "That's it?" Arnold said. "He was screwing around here for hours, it seemed like."

    "Probably just killing time," Wu said. "Until he finally decided to get down to it."

    The initial list of numbers represented the ASCI keyboard codes for the keys Nedry had pushed at his console. Those numbers meant he was still within the standard user interface, like any ordinary user of the computer. So initially Nedry was just looking around, which you wouldn't have expected of the programmer who had designed the system.

    "Maybe he was trying to see if there were changes, before he went in," Wu said.

    "Maybe," Arnold said. Arnold was now looking at the list of commands, which allowed him to follow Nedry's progression through the system, line by line. "At least we can see what he did."

    system was Nedry's request to leave the ordinary user interface and access the code itself. The computer asked for his name, and he replied: nedry.

    That name was authorized to access the code, so the computer allowed him into the system. Nedry asked to goto command level, the computer's highest level of control. The command level required extra security, and asked Nedry for his name, access number 7 and password.

    nedry

    040/# xy/67&

    mr goodbytes

    Those entries got Nedry into the command level. From there he wanted security. And since he was authorized, the computer allowed him to go there. Once at the security level, Nedry tried three variations:

    keycheck off

    safety off

    sl off

    "He's trying to turn off the safety systems," Wu said. "He doesn't want anybody to see what he's about to do."

    "Exactly," Arnold said. "And apparently he doesn't know it's no longer possible to turn the systems off except by manually flipping switches on the main board."

    After three failed commands, the computer automatically began to worry about Nedry. But since he had gotten in with proper authorization, the computer would assume that Nedry was lost, trying to do something he couldn't accomplish from where he was. So the computer asked him again where he wanted to be, and Nedry said:

    security. And he was allowed to remain there.

    "Finally," Wu said, "here's the kicker." He pointed to the last of the commands Nedry had entered.

    Whte_rbt.obj

    "What the hell is that?" Arnold said. "White rabbit? Is that supposed to be his private joke?"

    "It's marked as an object," Wu said. In computer terminology, an "object" was a block of code that could be moved around and used, the way you might move a chair in a room. An object might be a set of commands to draw a picture, or to refresh the screen, or to perform a certain calculation.

    "Let's see where it is in the code," Arnold said. "Maybe we can figure out what it does." He went to the program utilities and typed:

    FIND WHTE-RBT.OBJ

    The computer flashed back:

    OBJECT NOT FOUND IN LIBRARIES

    "It doesn't exist," Arnold said.

    "Then search the code listing," Wu said.

    Arnold typed:

    FIND/LISTINGS: WHTE-RBT.OBJ

    The screen scrolled rapidly, the lines of code blurring as they swept past. It continued this way for almost a minute, and then abruptly stopped.

    "There it is," Wu said. "It's not an object, it's a command." The screen showed an arrow pointing to a single line of code:

    curv = GetHandl {ssm.dt} tempRgn {itm.dd2}.

    curh = GetHandl {ssd.itli} tempRgn2 {itm.dd4}.

    on DrawMeter(!gN) set shp-val.obi to lim(Val{d})-Xval.

    if ValidMeter(mH) (**mH).MeterVis return.
    if Meterband](vGT) ((DrawBack(tY)) return.
    limitDat.4 = maxbits (%33) to {limit 04} set on.

    limitDat.5 = setzero, setfive, 0 {limit .2-var(szb)}.

    on whte-rbt.obi call link.sst {security, perimeter} set to off.

    Vertrange={maxrange+setlim} tempVgn(fdn-&bb+$404).

    Horrange={maxRange-setlim/2} tempHgn(fdn-&dd+$105).

    void DrawMeter send-screen.obi print.

    "Son of a bitch," Arnold said.

    Wu shook his head. "It isn't a bug in the code at all."

    "No," Arnold said. "It's a trap door. The fat bastard put in what looked like an object call, but it's actually a command that links the security and perimeter systems and then turns them off. Gives him complete access to every place in the park."

    "Then we must be able to turn them back on," Wu said.

    "Yeah, we must." Arnold frowned at the screen. "All we have to do is figure out the command. I'll run an execution trace on the link," he said. "We'll see where that gets us."

    Wu got up from his chair. "Meanwhile," he said, "meanwhile, that somebody went into the freezer about an hour ago. I think I better go count my embryos."

    Ellie was in her room, about to change out of her wet clothes, when there was a knock on the door.

    "Alan?" she said, but when she opened the door she saw Muldoon standing there, with a plastic-wrapped package under his arm. Muldoon was also soaking wet, and there were streaks of dirt on his clothes.

    "I'm sorry, but we need your help," Muldoon said briskly. "The Land Cruisers were attacked an hour ago. We brought Malcolm back, but he's in shock. He's got a very bad injury to his leg. He's still unconscious, but I put him in the bed in his room. Harding is on his way over."

    "Harding?" she said. "What about the others?"

    "We haven't found the others yet, Dr. Sattler," Muldoon said. He was speaking slowly now.

    "Oh, my God."

    "But we think that Dr. Grant and the children are still alive. We think they went into the park, Dr. Sattler."

    "Went into the park?"

    "We think so. Meanwhile, Malcolm needshelp. I've called Harding."

    'Shouldn't you call the doctor?"

    "There's no doctor on the island. Harding's the best we have."

    "But surely you can call for a doctor-" she said.

    "No." Muldoon shook his head. "Phone lines are down. We can't call out." He shifted the package in his arm.

    "What's that?" she said.

    "Nothing. Just go to Malcolm's room, and help Harding, if you will."

    And Muldoon was gone.

    She sat on her bed, shocked. Ellie Sattler was not a woman disposed to unnecessary panic, and she had known Grant to get out of dangerous situations before. Once he'd been lost in the badlands for four days when a cliff gave way beneath him and his truck fell a hundred feet into a ravine. Grant's right leg was broken. He had no water. But he walked back on a broken leg.

    On the other hand, the kids . . .

    She shook her head, pushing the thought away. The kids were probably with Grant. And if Grant was out in the park, well . . . what better person to get them safely through Jurassic Park than a dinosaur expert?

    In the Park

    "I'm tired," Lex said. "Carry me, Dr. Grant." "You're too big to carry," Tim said.

    "But I'm tired," she said.

    "Okay, Lex," Grant said, picking her up. "Oof, you're heavy."

    It was almost 9:00 p.m. The full moon was blurred by drifting mist, and their blunted shadows led them across an open field, toward dark woods beyond. Grant was lost in thought, trying to decide where he was. Since they had originally crossed over the fence that the tyrannosaur had battered down, Grant was reasonably sure they were now somewhere in the tyrannosaur paddock. Which was a place he did not want to be. In his mind, he kept seeing the computer tracing of the tyrannosaur's home range, the tight squiggle of lines that traced his movements within a small area. He and the kids were in that area now.

    But Grant also remembered that the tyrannosaurs were isolated from all the other animals, which meant they would know they had left the paddock when they crossed a barrier-a fence, or a moat, or both.

    He had seen no barriers, so far.

    The girl put her head on his shoulder, and twirled her hair in her fingers. Soon she was snoring. Tim trudged alongside Grant.

    "How you holding up, Tim?"

    "Okay," he said. "But I think we might be in the tyrannosaur area."

    "I'm pretty sure we are. I hope we get out soon."

    "You going to go into the woods?" Tim said. As they came closer, the woods seemed dark and forbidding.

    "Yes," Grant said. "I think we can navigate by the numbers on the motion sensors."

    The motion sensors were green boxes set about four feet off the ground. Some were freestanding; most were attached to trees. None of them were working, because apparently the power was still off. Each sensor box had a glass lens mounted in the center, and a painted code number beneath that. Up ahead, in the mist-streaked moonlight, Grant could see a box marked T/S/04.

    They entered the forest. Huge trees loomed on all sides. In the moonlight, a low mist clung to the ground, curling around the roots of the trees. It was beautiful, but it made walking treacherous. And Grant was watching the sensors. They seemed to be numbered in descending order. He passed T/S/03, and T/S/02. Eventually they reached T/S/01. He was tired from carrying the girl, and he had hoped this would coincide with a boundary for the tyrannosaur paddock, but it was just another box in the middle of the woods. The next box after that was marked T/N/01, followed by T/N/02. Grant realized the numbers must be arranged geographically around a central point, like a compass. They were going from soutb to north, so the numbers got smaller as they approached the center, then got larger again.

    "At least we're going the right way," Tim said.

    "Good for you," Grant said.

    Tim smiled, and stumbled over vines in the mist. He got quickly to his feet. They walked on for a while. "My parents are getting a divorce," he said.

    "Uh-huh," Grant said.

    "My dad moved out last month. He has his own place in Mill Valley now.

    "Uh-huh."

    "He never carries my sister any more. He never even picks her up."

    "And he says you have dinosaurs on the brain," Grant said.

    Tim sighed. "Yeah."

    "You miss him?" Grant said.

    "Not really," Tim said. "Sometimes. She misses him more."

    "Who, your mother?"

    "No, Lex. My mom has a boyfriend. She knows him from work."

    They walked in silence for a while, passing T/N/03 and T/N/04. "Have you met him?" Grant said.

    "Yeah."

    "How is he?"

    "He's okay," Tim said. "He's younger than my dad, but he's bald."

    "How does he treat you?"

    "I don't know. Okay. I think he just tries to get on my good side. I don't know what's going to happen. Sometimes my mom says we'll have to sell the house and move. Sometimes he and my mom fight, late at night. I sit in my room and play with my computer, but I can still hear it."

    "Uh-huh," Grant said.

    "Are you divorced?"

    "No," Grant said. "My wife died a long time ago."

    "And now you're with Dr. Sattler?"

    Grant smiled in the darkness. "No. She's my student."

    "You mean she's still in school?"

    "Graduate school, yes." Grant paused long enough to shift Lex to his other shoulder, and then they continued on, past T/N/05 and T/N/06. There was the rumble of thunder in the distance. The storm had moved to the south. There was very little sound in the forest except for the drone of cicadas and the soft croaking of tree frogs.

    You have children?" Tim asked.

    "No," Crant said.

    "Are you going to marry Dr. Sattler?"

    "No, she's marrying a nice doctor in Chicago sometime next year.

    "Oh," Tim said. He seemed surprised to hear it. They walked along for a while. "Then who are you going to marry?"

    "I don't think I'm going to marry anybody," Grant said.

    "Me neither," Tim said.

    They walked for a while. Tim said, "Are we going to walk all night?"

    "I don't think I can," Grant said. "We'll have to stop, at least for a few hours." He glanced at his watch. "We're okay. We've got almost fifteen hours before we have to be back. Before the ship reaches the mainland."

    "Where are we going to stop?" Tim asked, immediately.

    Grant was wondering the same thing. His first thought was that thev might climb a tree, and sleep up there. But they would have to climb very high to get safely away from the animals, and Lex might fall out while she was asleep. And tree branches were hard; they wouldn't get any rest. At least, he wouldn't.

    They needed someplace really safe. He thought back to the plans he had seen on the jet coming down. He remembered that there were outlying buildings for each of the different divisions. Grant didn't know what they were like, because plans for the individual buildings weren't included. And he couldn't remember exactly where they were, but he remembered they were scattered all around the park. There might be buildings somewhere nearby.

    But that was a different requirement from simply crossing a barrier and getting out of the tyrannosaur paddock, Finding a building meant a search strategy of some kind. And the best strategies were-

    "Tim, can you hold your sister for me? I'm going to climb a tree and have a look around."

    High in the branches, he had a good view of the forest, the tops of the trees extending away to his left and right. They were surprisingly near the edge of the forest-directly ahead the trees ended before a clearing, with an electrified fence and a pale concrete moat. Beyond that, a large open field in what he assumed was the sauropod paddock. In the distance, more trees, and misty moonlight sparkling on the ocean.

    Somewhere he heard the bellowing of a dinosaur, but it was far away. He put on Tim's night-vision goggles and looked again. He followed the gray curve of the moat, and then saw what he was looking for: the dark strip of a service road, leading to the flat rectangle of a roof. The roof was barely above ground level, but it was there. And it wasn't far. Maybe a quarter of a mile or so from the tree.

    When he came back down, Lex was sniffling.

    "What's the matter?"

    "I heard an aminal."

    "It won't bother us. Are you awake now? Come on."

    He led her to the fence. It was twelve feet high, with a spiral of barbed wire at the top. It seemed to stretch far above them in the moonligbt. The moat was immediately on the other side.

    Lex looked up at the fence doubtfully.

    "Can you climb it?" Grant asked her.