MICHAEL CRICHTON

Then Elliot realized that the rain had nearly stopped, that there was now only alight drizzle sifting down over the campsite. Looking across the compound, Elliotsaw another gorilla stop to listen—then another—and another—and another. Thecompound took on the quality of a frozen tableau, as the gorillas stood silent inthe mist.They were listening to the broadcast sounds.He held his breath, not daring to hope. The gorillas seemed uncertain,confused by the sounds they heard. Yet Elliot sensed that at any moment theycould arrive at some group decision and resume their attack with the sameintensity as before.That did not happen. The gorillas stepped away from the people, listening.Munro scrambled to his feet, raising his gun from the mud. but he did not shoot;the gorilla standing over him seemed to be in a trance, to have forgotten all aboutthe attack.In the gentle rain, with the flickering night lights, the gorillas moved away, oneby one. They seemed perplexed, off balance. The rasping continued over theloudspeaker.The gorillas left, moving back across the trampled perimeter fence,disappearing once more into the jungle. And then the expedition members werealone, staring at each other, shivering in the misty rain. The gorillas were gone.Twenty minutes later, as they were trying to rebuild their shattered campsite,the rain poured down again with unabated fury.DAY 13: MUKENKOJune 25, 1979232