A medium-sized, thirty-three-year-old man was on his way to the port. His suitcase, filled with clothes and souvenirs from his interrupted vacation, laid beside him. He and his family had planned to stay at a five-star hotel in Puntarenas for a month, but they had been there for only three days before he was forced to go.
Earlier that morning, he received a call from his co-worker, Isaac Richards, who basically forced him to go back to Matanceros. David took a taxi immediately. As the car took a sharp turn left, the wheels raised dust from the ground, marking the road with their trail. On both sides, palm trees and a vibrant array of coastal plants framed the view, their leaves rustling gently in the breeze.
"¡El camino no está muy bonito, eh, gringo!" exclaimed the driver, a charismatic old man with a toothy grin.
David was looking through the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the coastal shore. His temper was tranquil as he tried to think of a way to stop Richards once in Matanceros.
"¿Y qué hace en Costa Rica?" He asked.
"Vacation."
"¿Cómo estuvieron sus vacaciones?" asked the driver, trying to start a conversation.
"It was alright, couldn't enjoy much of it. A friend almost forced me to go to his place. He was begging for help," David replied in a defeated tone, resting his head against the window.
The old man understood English, but he couldn't speak it. "¿Idiay? ¿Cómo va'ser?" The driver looked at David through the rearview mirror, his eyes curious.
David noticed but didn't answer back.
Soon, the palms started to disperse, revealing a boat leashed to a rock. Next to it stood an eerie old man, waiting for his arrival.
"Right there," David said, pointing the boat with his index finger.
"Son quinientos colones," said the driver. David handed him a bunch of bronze coins. "Tenga un buen viaje."
"Gracias," David replied with a noticeable English-influenced accent.
As soon as he opened the door, he felt the warm and humid air embrace his face. A salty smell filled the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the beach.
David grabbed his suitcase and walked along the beach. The old man couldn't be discerned from a distance, but his face became clearer as David got closer to the boat.
"¡Buenos días, Juanito!" he greeted, pretending to be excited about the trip.
The old man looked up and shook his hand. "Pura vida, doctor." He rolled his fingers through his dirty beard, revealing some silver hairs as he curled them.
"¿Vamos?" asked David.
"Diuna vez," he replied.
Immediately, Juanito took David's suitcase and secured it in the boat next to the engine so it wouldn't fall into the sea.
"The Canadian kids. Do you know anything about them?" David asked.
Juanito, struggling to understand, asked, "¿qué cosa?"
"Los turistas de Canadá."
"Ellos… Sí, los vi antes de que se jueran para la isla."
"The island?" David thought. He had his suspicions, but this almost confirmed them.
"Sí. Iban en bote. Los intenté advertir, pero no m'hicieron caso."
David looked down; his suspicions were true.
They remained silent for half the trip. Juanito was concentrated driving the boat, and the waves struck violently against it, making it difficult to see through. Meanwhile, David stared at the morning sun rising above the ocean, painting a beautiful dawn that reflected in the distant waters. The water expelled a salty, fish-like scent, and the salt adhered to his skin.
"Si miras por áhi, verás un poco'e toninas. Son animales muy sociales, de veras," Juanito said, pointing with his nose at a pack of bottlenose dolphins swimming thirty meters away from the boat.
One of the dolphins breached out of a mid-sized wave, revealing its beautiful grey skin. David watched the scene in awe, almost forgetting what was going on in the islands.
"I've traveled to those islands countless times…" he paused, contemplating the mesmerizing sight as it faded in the distance. "It feels magical… all the time."
After two hours, a green peak emerged on the horizon, progressively revealing a mountain range that crossed the island right in the middle, starting in the northernmost part and ending in a tall rocky cliff on the southwest coast.
"There it is, Mount Uribe," David said to himself as the island started taking shape.
"¿Contento'e volver, Doctor?"
"I'm always happy to be back, Juanito."
When they were close, Juanito veered the boat to the left, circling the island along its northern coast. The island's vegetation was dense, teeming with native coastal birds soaring through the sky and diving sharply in pursuit of prey.
"Está hermoso, ¿verda, doctor?"
"Es bien bonito, sí," David replied, lacking words to describe the beauty of the scene.
The boat landed at a stony beach. Tiny shells covered the ground like sand along the coast. With some struggle, David took his suitcase, trying not to splash excessively. "Muchas gracias, Juanito."
From the dense jungle, a gravel path emerged, followed by a loud voice that echoed, "He arrived! The legend's back!"
David turned around sharply. A big smile appeared on his face. "Isaac!" he shouted as he walked toward the big guy.
"David Banks, the first of the team. Thanks for coming," Isaac said sarcastically.
"You didn't let me rethink it, and I thought you couldn't go alone to Nublar, so I came from my vacation, which, by the way, you interrupted."
Richards scratched his head. "I'm sorry, this is very important. Laura thinks she'll be able to find answers on mainland, but I still insist that we should go to Nublar first."
David changed his expression from serious to an assertive one. "I think this is unnecessary now. On our way, Juanito told me that he warned the kids about the island." He scratched the skin between his eyebrows. "I guess this was a waste of time. Let me settle in and call Laura."
Richards took him by the shoulder to stop him from walking. "No! Wait. We now have another situation on the table," he said.
David frowned, concerned. "What's it now?"
"The government sent an investigation crew to the island," Richards said, unsure.
"They what?" Banks' expression shifted to an angry tone. "You gotta be kidding me. What's all this about, Richards?" he asked, furious.
"Don't blame me! When Laura called the government, they said they'd send a team to check on the island."
"You know it's dangerous!" he yelled.
"Yes! I know, but there was nothing I could do!"
David turned around and looked at Juanito, who didn't understand what was going on but knew something was wrong. His face was in shock.
"You knew about this?" David asked.
Juanito stared at him, not knowing what he was being asked.
"Leave my suitcase under a rock; we don't have time. Let's go now," David said, determined.
"Now you sound mad," said Richards, lowering his tone. David didn't reply.
Juanito started the engine, accelerating as it took off from the shore. The sudden movement destabilized David, causing him to almost fall. Richards laughed. The morning sun rose above the mountains, projecting enormous shadows upon the ocean waters. The boat's tip cut the waves that crashed into it as it accelerated progressively.
The ocean consumed Matanceros as they kept going, the sounds of the island being overtaken by the sounds of the water splashing along the way.
Richards looked back, contemplating the five islands that lined up in a semicircle. The largest one was about twice the size of Matanceros, and the smallest one was about a third of its size, located in the southern tip of the archipelago.