| This story is on hiatus.|
It will not be updated regularly by the author.
| This fanfiction contains bad language.|
It may not be suitable for children under the age of 13.
Garden of Secrets is an alternate Jurassic Park by Styracosaurus Rider. If you think you've seen the worst of things, think again. Think long and hard.
In an astonishing discovery that will overturn the foundations of science itself, the DNA of prehistoric organisms has been discovered. Now, creatures vanished for eons are taking their first steps into the twenty-first century. Soon, the entire world will be able to visit them, and gaze in wonder and awe. But looks are misleading. Not all can be trusted, and before long escape may be impossible…
Prologue: A Night Out
The cloaking darkness seemed to spread forever past the treetops. The only interruption was the glimmer of shining stars high in the sky. But this had no effect on the light down near the trees, and it was pitch black.
Sergeant Jake Dillon leaned against the wall, smoking a cigarette. A bearded man of thirty-seven, he had seen his share of violence. Especially that attack back in ’07. They’d never actually attacked the fort before the FBI intervened, but still, it was a helluva plot.
Dillon was based at Fort Dix. It was a tough job, but a good kind of tough job. Training was OK, but it wasn’t his favorite. The good bits were when you got to play with guns and helicopters. The two best things in the world, he thought. He would get bored easily with office jobs, and this kept him from getting bored at all times.
He turned over to Marty, his friend and fellow smoking buddy. “I’m gonna take one of the Cobras out for a spin. Just lettin’ ya know.”
“Have fun,” Marty said. “Don’t get blinded by a kid’s laser pointer this time.”
Dillon chuckled. “You wish,” he said, and walked outside. He could never get over that incident, because it was very funny and it wasn’t him.
Soon the Bell AH-1 stood in front of him. Dix had a few of these, and each one had their own quirks to them. This particular one Dillon compared to a Ferrari: pure, unbridled passion. It was his favorite craft of all.
Before long he was flying over the trees. He had the lights turned off, he appreciated the darkness. It was mystical and exhilarating. Besides, he knew his way around the tops of the woods well enough to fly around with his eyes shut anyway.
Dillon noticed the trees that stood out, those that rose higher above the trees. These particular ones seemed slightly curved, and different from normal. He dismissed them, for these trees often looked odd. Shadows distorted and magnified shapes.
But now there seemed to be more of them. They weren’t straight at all now, they were definitely curved. And they didn’t look like trees at all. It was weird, Dillon thought. Too weird.
And then they seemed to move.
They actually looked like they were moving, twisting their trunks, their bark changing. Branchless trees that moved in the night.
Dillon shook his head. He was tired. Why shouldn’t he be? It was in the middle of the fucking night. But for some reason he started to grow uneasy. He flicked the headlights on.
And suddenly there were even more of them, twisting, branchless trunks. And in the headlights he could see that they were not covered with rough bark, but skin, smooth and gray skin, scaly skin. And on top, a glistening sphere, that looked like an eye.
Dillon couldn’t stop himself. He panicked, terrified, and gunned the copter away from the shapes. But wherever he turned, there were still more, with their scales and eyes, actual eyes, and those eyes were looking at him, and there was a low roar, the most unearthly roar, and Dillon, engulfed with pure terror, passed out unconscious.