Tap and hold to extend the makeshift bridge, stretching it across the gap before releasing to drop it precisely onto the opposite ledge of the jagged chasm. Time your moves carefully—swiftly adjust the angle to avoid tipping, secure the path, and retreat before ravenous dinosaurs close in. Stay agile: dodge snapping jaws, leap over obstacles, and outrun prehistoric predators as you race against extinction.
The air reeks of damp earth and copper—blood, your brain supplies, though you pray it’s not yours. Somewhere beyond the ferns, a guttural snarl splits the jungle’s cacophony. You’re sprinting blind, sneakers sinking into mud as Velociraptor shrieks echo off the compound’s shattered walls. That splintered branch in your grip is all you’ve got: too flimsy to stab, too short to fend off claws the size of steak knives. But the maintenance tunnel’s rusted hatch lies ahead, half-buried under vines. Wedge the stick in the gears. Jam it hard. If the lock holds, you’ll live another five minutes. If not? The T. rex’s thunderous footsteps are closing in. Choices, kid. Fast.
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