But the next entry, dated five days later, had been scratched out and rewritten: Status: TERMINATED.
“We thought we were creating a theme park. We were wrong. We were creating a world. And worlds don’t belong to anyone. Not even God.” Dinosaur Island -1994-
“The tower. He’s been there for five years, waiting for the cartel to come back. But they never did. The island doesn’t let people leave, Lena. The animals see to that. Mercer is the last one. Just him, and me, and now you.” But the next entry, dated five days later,
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the photograph. The little compy. The smile. The miracle. We were creating a world
Dawn revealed a beach the color of bone.
Harriman’s eyes flicked to the notebook. “You sure you want to do this? Whatever’s out there—it’s been five years. Storms, currents. Even if we find something, it won’t be what you’re hoping for.”