Chapter 4: Departure for Site B


Josiah's POV-

The following week went by slowly. During that time I had packed a few of my things just in case. My mom had provided me with some clean clothes for my trip. She had understood that I was planning on leaving as soon as I had gotten the word form the survival school agent with the note. She still was a little doubtful and worried that I was going to return to Isla Sorna.

I was worried, too. Many things would try to stop me from going back to the island. The Costa Rican coast guard, the U.N, or even worse, the original survivors of Jurassic Park and Site B.

I was up in my room at that moment, rummaging around in my desk for my pen for my second journal. I heard raised voices from downstairs and stole closer to listen. I recognized my mom's voice and the other one. It was my uncle, Charles. I didn't usually see him and my mom together. But now they both were talking under the same roof.

"I'm not sure that this is a good idea either, but there's no stopping him when his mind is made up," My mom said.

"I just don't understand why he has to spend five weeks on an island full man-eating dinosaurs," Uncle Charles replied. "Can't you talk him out of it or something? Send him to his room, ground him, tie him up?"

My mother laughed. "If only it were that easy."

A deep silence drifted to my ears. Then my mom cleared her throat.

"Josiah feels like he needs to do this," said mom. "He told me himself that a part of him is still on the island. I don't know why I know. Call it a mother's instinct. As hard it is for me to allow this, he needs it. He wants to go back to the island."

"But he could get killed," Charles said simply.

"Don''t you think I know that already," Mom said. "The chances of my baby coming back to me alive are slim." I heard her sniffle. "But he's growing up now and has his own life."

"But I still fail to see why he should go alone," Said Charles. "Someone has to go with him."

"He can't bring anyone with him," Mom said with a sigh. "He told me that he doesn't want to put anybody in danger on the island."

I heard my uncle sigh.

"Well, if this is what he wants, then I won't stand in his way," Said Charles. "As my nephew he has the Clover blood in him. Just like his dad."

I sighed and slightly frowned. I didn't like hearing about my dad. Not even from my uncle. Mom was the only one who spoke to me about him.

I withdrew my head back in my room, not wanting to hear anymore. I spent the next hour thinking about the letter that had the stationery. I had a lot to think about.

After what I had been through on the island, I didn't even know if my life was going to be normal anymore. Sleeping at night had caused me to get some strange dreams about the island. The smell, the feel, the sensation. Mom was right. That island was apart of me. Just like it had been apart for Eric.

I rubbed my hand across my face, suddenly feeling guilty for making Eric look like a coward in his own book. True he may not have had a translator device like I did, but he still had what counted the most when he needed to survive on the island.

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Once the letter had been delivered by the agent of the survival school, and my plane tickets bought, I spent the next day finishing my preparations. First-aid kits for injures, a satellite phone for emergencies, and a rain poncho just in cause the weather turned sour again like last time.

I had said my goodbyes to my mother and friends, save for Eddie, and had boarded a plane for Costa Rica the next day. As always, the tropical sun beat down on me. Sweat built-up under my pits already. The flight down here had been uneventful. But now that I was doing this really for real and not sneaking on the island like before, it felt kind of strange.

But it was time to get to the island. And who better to get me there then Enrique Pantaros of the Dino boat tours. That is if he was still in business around the San Jose docks. His underground boat tours were illegal here in San Jose of course, so finding him again like last time would be a snap.

I just had to know where to look.

As I searched for Enrique around the docks, I noticed that there were a few San Jose policeofficers milling among the few buildings that lined the wharfs. They were asking people questions in Spanish and holding up what looked like small posters. Probably looking for criminals. I then decided to turn in the other direction and look for Enrique someplace else. I didn't speak Costa Rican and the last thing I needed was the authorities giving me trouble.

But no sooner had I taken a few steps, I felt a tap on my shoulders and someone speaking in Spanish. I froze right where I was. I had been caught. Was I going to be questioned? And if so, was I going to be arrested? Oh, boy. Welcome back to Costa Rica!


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