⟩ 12

                                    

                                          
Bonding Time ⤵


Another casing hit the ground, tucking itself away between the long blades of grass that tied around the heel and toes of my boots, and rooted it's way into my knee through my jeans. It wasn't painful, just getting the fabric soiled. 
The Triceratops from the Valley had been completely fine. Masrani kept freaking out about it, waving his arms in the air as Paramedics came around. Josh soon joined us, asking if the ride was going to be open again soon. The customers were getting restless, whether it was for the ride or to see the poor girl. Both could've been an option.
Once the paramedics took the triceratops away, the tourists were aloud to use the Valley once more. Masrani, Claire, Owen and I rode behind the paramedic truck, tailing it to the workplace. I told Owen on the way there that the Triceratops was only going to have a child — there wasn't anything majorly wrong with her besides going into labor. 
Owen had chuckled, the tension in his back muscles had eased. I knew he was worried for the dinosaur, but not this much. For a dinosaur he's only met once, that one time being today, he sure has some sort of care and passion for them. That's not me complaining, but rather the opposite. I admire Grady for that.
When Masrani heard the news, he was overjoyed. Instead of flapping his arms about in a nervously reckless manner, he waved them around his head and cheered while skipping down hallways and running his hands along the walls. He would've clapped, too, if it wouldn't had disturbed any nearby paramedics currently on intensive care. 
After that, I had realized how stressed I had become. Between the Triceratops, lifting the weight of the park on my shoulders and naming off the pro's and con's of the Raptor Pen being close by, I never took note of how exhausted I felt after I came back home that same afternoon. It's become a schedule lately, one that hasn't been talked over. 
I'd sleep for hours of the night, wake up at around 5AM with a call by Masrani, Claire or some other staff member about a dinosaur that won't behave or is showing weird signs of unorthodox behavior for one of their species, take care of the issue, hold up around the park for the rest of the day, and come back home to throw myself on my couch for a few good minutes before I move to the back.
Prior to whatever someone else might think, I really needed to relieve some of that stress. I shared this with Masrani while he was sitting at his desk, invested in a game of his. He pitched another idea to me — to give all the restaurants electronic devices, allowing the kids and parents to play games and watch movies or shows while waiting or eating. 
It didn't sound like his usual reckless ideas, but it seemed rather brilliant. I shared that with him, too. Masrani smiled and I told him about my issue, to which he continued to smile, stand up from his desk, and give me a weeks vacation. I would've argued about the time limit that I had, but I felt that a week was long enough. Besides, it's not like I'm really going anywhere. 
The next question was a bit harder for the business man to answer. In the end, he said yes but under some carefully placed rules. You know, to keep Jurassic World safe and all that. 
So, I sit outside, crouched low in the grass as I eye my target through the scope of the sniper rifle. I steady it for the unth time, inhaling deeply to calm my heartbeat for mere seconds as I pull the trigger and the round flies from the muzzle. Another casing dropped to the ground, brass against brass as they rolled against one another and leaned like a tower. 
I can shoot freely, Masrani granted, as long as I'm not too close to the park. He didn't want to risk people getting curious and poking around somewhere they shouldn't belong. Especially if that somewhere is someone else's home. So, I promised to keep it a moderate ways from Main Street, which allowed me to shoot in my very yard.