Chapter 2: Departure
The rusty old taxi cab screeched to a halt on the dirt road, throwing up a plume of dust around the bumper, obscuring the view through the weathered windows. The cab rocked on the axle slightly at the sudden top, and the back door opened wide, and the scratchy record playing on the stereo within blared out of the vehicle.
Dr. Henry Wu unfolded himself from the interior, and stepped out into the bright sunlight of the dock at Puntarenas, Costa Rica. An oriental man, his tanned figure was suited to his black jacket and t-shirt. The sunlight began attacking his skin immediately, causing sweat to pop out on the back of his neck. The humidity made it uncomfortable to breath here, it felt as if he only had one lung, but the light sea breeze was a pleasant contrast to the stuffy confines inside the taxi. The air was salty, and carried the strong aroma of seafood. His brushed the creases out his trousers, and then turned to the driver.
"Thanks," he said, smiling as he handed over the fare. The taxi driver nodded to him, and then gunned the engine, roaring off down the road, bumping over potholes recklessly. Wu cringed at the thought of spending more time in there; his head still hurt from colliding with the ceiling.
He turned around, facing the dock, which was buzzing with activity. Before him was a small marketplace. Several small wooden stands were laden with tropical fruits, live chickens and fish, with old women heckling at passersby continuously. A crowd of people milled around here, buying all that they could lay their hands on; one man passed Wu with a wheelbarrow full of watermelon.
A sea bird swooped overhead as Wu walked into the marketplace, ignoring the bargaining of the shopkeepers who descended on the tourist like vultures. He shook his head politely to each of them as he passed, weaving in and out of the crowd, trying to not step on any chickens which pecked at the ground around him. And then he left them behind, the crows disappearing immediately, and he emerged out into the expanse of the wooden dock. It was the length of a football field, and the long wooden planks which made up its surface were over forty feet long.
Two fishing boats were moored up at the front end, bumping against the wooden planks, a few fishermen carrying crates of fish backwards and forwards. The paint was peeling off the hulls of the boats, and the men looked sullen, as if their catch had been disappointing.
But most of the activity was centred on a much larger ship moored at the very end, turned horizontal against the tip of the last wooden plank as it was too large to fit along the length of the dock. The freighter's hull rose out of the water some twenty meters, and a large on-board crane was being used to haul things up to the deck. Massive crates of supplies and equipment were piled up in great stacks off to one side, with the words 'InGen' printed on each of them, also bearing the striking blue logo of the company.
Dozens of men in blue overalls were gathered beneath the hull of the ship, and even more could be seen dashing around on deck, tying down ropes and shouting to each other incoherently. Most of them seemed to be native Costa Ricans, while a few were obviously American, and had slightly different uniforms; he guessed they were the supervisors.
On the bow section of the ship there were two helipads positioned at the tip of the deck where the railings had been removed, which were occupied by what Wu would have described as military models. They were large and bulky, the rotors long and heavy looking.
They looked more like flying tanks to him.
He stalked forwards across the dock, passing the fishing boats silently, avoiding a wet patch which was forming around the crates of fish. As he came closer he saw the inscription of the freighter's name printed on the side in large, white stencilled writing.
SS. Venture II
He passed the first of the large crates, and was unnerved to see that a large biohazard symbol was stencilled along the top, with warnings in several languages. But it didn't bother him too much; InGen always worked with dangerous chemicals, and he worked with them all the time. But in this situation, something in his gut told him that this wasn't good.
One of the Americans spotted him as he stopped in front of the freighter, and made a beeline straight for him. He was one of the people he had assumed were supervisors, but now Wu sensed that he was higher up the ladder than that, he had a commanding air, and smoked a cigarette.
"Dr. Henry Wu?" he said, extending his hand as he came up to him.
"Yeah, that's me," said Wu, shaking his hand.
"I've been looking all over for you. My name's Steven Haynes, I'm in charge here. I'm sorry for the rush to get you down here, but we're in a bit of a hurry. Time is short. How was your flight?"
"It was fine," said Wu as Haynes steered him towards the boarding ramp.
"Good, good. Now, I'm going to need you on-board straight away. I'll have somebody show you to temporary quarters, and you'll be briefed as soon as we depart. Rodriguez!"
"Yes sir?" said one of the workmen in a thick accent.
"Take Dr. Wu to B-3. Make sure he has everything he needs," said Haynes. He nodded to Wu, and then hurried off towards a gathering of men who were haphazardly trying to roll barrels of fuel along the dock.
Rodriguez waved him over, and led him forwards along the hull of the ship, and up the boarding ramp. It was only now that Wu realized just how much the freighter contrasted with the rest of the scene. The ship was modern, the paint fresh and gleaming. It looked as if it was brand new; and it very well may have been. The dock below was old, the wooden planks rotting. This was no large industrial port; it was a fishing village. Somebody had gone to great lengths to make sure that they carried this operation out as quietly as possible.
"Right this way, sir," said Rodriguez as they stepped out onto the deck.
The floor was made of concrete, and a small pile of supplies was already gathered on the deck near the helipads. The motor of the crane whined loudly as it swung back out, the arm dipping down, men hurrying forward and attaching the lines to the next container.
Wu followed the workman aft, towards the cabin which housed the bridge and access to below deck. They stepped through an open heavy metal door, and Wu was momentarily surprised by the sudden drop in temperature as he passed out of the sunlight and into air conditioned comfort. It was dim in here; the lights didn't seem to make up for the brightness of the sun outside.
They descended two flights of stairs, the metal rungs clanking as they pattered down to the level below. They emerged into a narrow hallway, lined with metal doors on each side positioned every few feet along. They were marked with alphanumeric designations, and Wu guessed that they were rooms.
A second later the workman stopped, and opened a door on the left, and waved Wu forwards.
"Here you go, Doctor," said Rodriguez, nodding to the door, which was marked 'B-3' in golden lettering.
"Thanks," said Wu, and walked into the room. It was tiny, barely five feet wide and a little longer. It had a stiff, unwelcome looking bed in the corner and with thin sheets and a slab-like pillow. Sunlight streamed in through a porthole mounted into the exterior wall, creating a singular shaft of gold which cut through the room and landed in a pool at the foot of the bed.
"I'll come get you when Mr. Haynes is ready to brief you," said Rodriguez, and closed the door with a snap, leaving Wu alone in the room.
Sighing, he sat down on the bed, and wasn't surprised at the fact that the mattress hardly responded to his weight.
The horn of the ship suddenly blasted through the air, the walls of the freighter around him vibrated momentarily, and left his ears ringing. He stood up and looked out of the window.
Workmen were untying the mooring lines which anchored the ship to the dock. He was astounded to see that all of the supplies had disappeared, and he guessed that Haynes had really got the workers going.
And as he watched the ship began to move away from the wooden panels, and he heard the whine of the engines grow to a roar. The sounds of the waves lashing against the hull of the ship filled his ears for a moment as the sudden movement stirred up the water.
They were underway.
"How long will it take to get there?" said Wu, taking a seat.
He was in a small, metal walled room with a table and six chairs positioned around it. Haynes sat in one of them, a thick blue folder in his grasp. There were four other men sat in the other chairs, all of whom were tall and energetic looking.
"A few hours maybe," said Haynes, opening the blue folder.
"You want to tell me why I'm here then?" said Wu, leaning back in his chair.
He had been called in the middle of the night two days ago, and had been informed of some 'incident' at the park. And then yesterday Ludlow had got onto the phone, babbling about some urgency for him to get down to Costa Rica. Something about a recovery mission, that's all he had managed to salvage from the incoherent ravings. So he had grabbed the next flight down here. But now he wanted answers.
Haynes pushed the folder over to him, and Wu opened the cover. Inside there was a full-page image of an inverted tear drop shaped smudge of green surrounded by blue. Wu instantly recognised it as a satellite image of Isla Nublar.
Haynes began to speak, more to him than the other men.
"Last week a small group of investigating civilians were visiting the InGen Nublar facility when the island suffered a catastrophic system failure. As far as we can tell approximately three hours after the main staff left on the SS. Venture the chief programmer initiated a complete system shutdown, and made away with 15 embryos in Cryo-Stasis. The security parameters failed to contain the animals, and the skeleton crew proved ill-equipped to deal with the situation."
Wu turned the page, and saw a list of names with accompanying identifying photographs. He recognised all of them at a glance, and looked up at Haynes. "What's this?"
"Casualty list," said Haynes shortly, "Staff members John Arnold, Dennis Nedry and Robert Muldoon, and the visiting representative lawyer Donald Gennaro. All have been confirmed deceased by the survivors of the incident."
Wu was shocked. He had only spoken to them last week. He had been there on the island, working as usual, without a clue of such a thing could happen. Why hadn't he been informed sooner?
"What are we doing now then?" he said. "There's no way we can continue our work is there?"
Haynes shook his head. "You're here to recover the data vital to the cloning technology, which is now only available on the control system at Isla Nublar."
"How am I going to do that? You just told me that the animals are loose on the island."
Haynes smiled. "This freighter will reach the south eastern shore in a little over two hours. Then we'll travel by helicopter to the island, and this team here," he pointed to the four men next to him, "will escort you to the control room. You'll be in no danger, I promise. You'll be off the island again within an hour."
Wu sat in his chair a moment, and then nodded. "Okay."
Haynes seemed momentarily surprised at his readiness to agree. "Okay?"
Wu nodded again. "Okay."
The freighter rocked from side to side rhythmically, and the waves surged up from the ocean surface below, sometimes soaring over the edge of the railing and splashing down all over the deck. A flock of sea birds screeched as a powerful gust of wind buffeted against them overhead. Wu walked across the deck of the ship, and staggered slightly as one wave slammed headlong into the bow of the ship, and watched as the deckhands rushed forwards to hold down the wires securing the helicopters to the floor. The barrels and crates were pushing against their restraints, threatening to pop free and crush everybody at any moment. Wu could no longer see the shoreline of Costa Rica behind him, and there was nothing on the skyline except for uninterrupted blue ocean.
"A little choppy," said a voice behind him.
He looked over his shoulder, and saw Haynes standing behind him, leaning against the railings. He was stroking his chin, and took the stub of his cigarette out of his mouth and tossed it over his shoulder into the ocean.
"Bad weather around here; weather reports show a lot of tropical storms around
at the moment. But it looks all clear around Nublar, sunny skies. So don't worry, this won't last long."
Wu nodded. "So, what are you?"
Haynes chuckled. "Call me 'hired help'."
A mercenary, thought Wu. It made sense; he was probably going to be surrounded by sharp things and guns on the island. Haynes seemed to have noticed his reaction.
"Don't you worry, Dr. Wu," he said, "we'll be there soon. You'll be fine."