I'm posting this chapter earlier than usual as a Thanksgiving Treat, for those of you who come on today. I hope you enjoy, and be sure to check out the Prologue beforehand.
Chapter 1: The Flight
Anne swore. â€œJust great.â€
â€œI was hoping you could talk her out of it before she leaves, but there may not be time. I mean, youâ€™ve been there. Sheâ€™s always trusted youâ€¦â€
â€œDid you bring that note with you?â€
James looked confused for a second, and then said, â€œOh, yes, hold on.â€
He opened his suitcase, shuffling around some things before pulling out a folded white note. He handed it to Anne, who unfolded it and read:
I know you may not like it, but Iâ€™m leaving for Costa Rica. Iâ€™ll be heading to Isla Nublar, one of the offshore islands, with David and the group of photographers from California. Weâ€™re leaving Thursday at noon on boat to get there. I trust them, since theyâ€™re bringing along some guys who know how to deal with stuff like this. I love you, and Iâ€™ll be back in town in a couple of days.
She set down the note on the bed. James said, â€œSheâ€™s going to Isla Nublar. At first, I didnâ€™t think sheâ€™d be going to the island you went to, since that was called something elseâ€”â€œ
â€œRight, so I didnâ€™t worry at first. But then, like I said, I started putting two and two together, and realized she wouldnâ€™t just be happening to go to an offshore island in Costa Rica, that just happens to be where you ended up. Noâ€¦ She was infatuated with Jurassic Park, so I figured she was going to this Isla Sornaâ€¦â€
â€œNo,â€ Anne said. â€œTheyâ€™re not the same place. Sheâ€™s heading to Nublar, not Sorna. She didnâ€™t lie. Sheâ€™s going to Jurassic Park.â€
Anne looked down. â€œThey said it was destroyed, or, partially destroyedâ€¦â€
â€œWhat do you mean?â€
â€œIn 1993, Nublar was supposedly destroyedâ€¦ But I guess not. Why else would she be going there? She must know there are dinosaurs still on the island.â€
â€œI guess she would.â€
â€œWhat did you know about those guys from California?â€
â€œNothing. She only mentioned them once, and then again in that letter. Theyâ€™re a photography crew.â€
â€œAnd what about this guy, David?â€
â€œShe met him in Costa Rica. He was visiting too, I guess. Theyâ€™ve been seeing each other off and onâ€¦â€
â€œI donâ€™t think so. But maybe.â€
â€œYou didnâ€™t know much about him either?â€
James shook his head. â€œI had met him once, he was at her apartment. He seemed nice enough, but they were doing some sort of research, and he seemed pretty nervous to let me go around the area over where they had been doing it.â€
Anne nodded. â€œIâ€™ll go. See if I can talk to her, get her to change her mind.â€
James put a hand on her shoulder. â€œI know how hard this must be. To go back to Costa Rica, the memories will come back. But she wonâ€™t listen to me. I need your help Anne.â€
Sandra Jones was sitting on the living room couch. â€œYes Anne.â€
â€œYou heard, didnâ€™t you?â€
Sandra slumped. â€œYesâ€¦â€
â€œNo, Anne.â€ Sandra stood up. â€œThis is good for you. You need to face your nightmares. Maybe going back to Costa Rica will help get rid of it all.â€
â€œI just want to help Lisa. Sheâ€™s confused.â€
â€œDonâ€™t apologize. Itâ€™s not your fault. Itâ€™s not even Lisaâ€™s. Itâ€™s what needs to be done, and youâ€™re the only one that can do it.â€
Anne nodded. Sandra embraced her. â€œWhen are you leaving?â€
â€œUncle James said Lisaâ€™s going to be taking a boat at noon on Thursday. Iâ€™ll try and leave tonight, so I can at least have a days worth to search for her in Costa Rica. Thereâ€™s got to be someone that knows of their group.â€
Sandra shook her head, backing away. Her eyes were watering. â€œIâ€™ll call for you. You justâ€¦ go get packed.â€
Sandra nodded, turning away. As Anne started to the stairs, she said, â€œHey mom. Did, uh, you tell dad yet?â€
â€œNo, dear. I think it would be best for me to tell him after you leave.â€
Anne simple nodded, a faint smile trying to find its way onto her face. Sandra disappeared into the kitchen, as Anne started up the stairs. She opened the door to her room, looking back across the hall into her uncleâ€™s room.
Anne listened to him shuffling around inside, before pushing open the door and entering her own room. She walked over to her closet, searching the floor inside to find a suitcase. She pulled it out, setting it on her bed, unzipping it open. It was old, but she could use it.
She moved around the room, grabbing two pairs of shirts, shorts, socks, and underwear. After she had packed, she walked out into the hall, toward the bathroom, where she shoved her toothbrush and toothpaste into a small, empty Ziploc baggy that had once housed them five years prior during the move from her apartment to her parentsâ€™ house.
She zipped it up, taking it back to her room. She threw it into the suitcase, closed it, and picked it up.
She returned to the hall, walking back to the stairway. She looked at a clock on the wall, which told her it was only a quarter past eleven.
She walked down the stairs, setting her suitcase next to the couch. James was sitting in the chair, his face in his hands. As she neared, he said from behind his fingers, â€œIâ€™m so sorry Anne. I shouldnâ€™t have drug you into this. Whyâ€™d she have to go?â€
Anne looked down at him, as Sandra walked in. â€œThe next plane for Costa Rica leaves at two-thirty. The lady who I talked to said youâ€™re lucky, since not many flights head out that way here.â€
Sandra tried to smile, and looked at James instead, unable to do it. â€œWhatâ€™s the matter James?â€
â€œYou know what the problem isâ€¦â€
â€œItâ€™s not your fault.â€
â€œYes it is! If I hadnâ€™t of even bothered to ask Anne about going to talk her out of it, she wouldnâ€™t have to be goingâ€¦â€
Anne cut in. â€œNothingâ€™s going to happen. Iâ€™m going to go to Costa Rica, talk Lisa out of it, and bring her back.â€
Sandra and James looked at her. James had stood up. James looked at Sandra, â€œDoes Bill know?â€
Sandra shook her head. â€œNo. Heâ€™s been outside.â€
Anne picked up her suitcase. â€œI better get going then. I want to get there quicker so Iâ€™ll have chance to get some more time to find her.â€
James nodded. Sandra moved around the couch to her, hugging her once more. Anne hugged back, forced to set down the suitcase again. Sandra said, â€œYou be back before dinner tomorrow. Iâ€™m making pasta, with the homemade meatballs you like.â€
Anne laughed. Sandra backed off, and James hugged Anne next. He whispered, â€œIâ€™m so sorry. I feel terrible to have you go back to Costa Rica and have to fight off those memoriesâ€¦â€
James let go, dropping himself on the couch. Anne picked up her suitcase, walking to the door. As she turned the door handle, she said, â€œIf Jill calls again, tell her to still come. Iâ€™ll be back before she gets here.â€
Anne pulled open the door, stepping out into the sunlight. Her car was parked in the dirt arc driveway next to Jamesâ€™, and she walked over, opening the back door to throw her suitcase in the back seat.
Three hours later, Anneâ€™s plane was taking off. Her suitcase had been stored away, and she was sitting at a window seat. She looked around at the rest of the passengers.
There were no more than twenty, and Anne looked out the window after she was done. â€œThis seems oddly familiar.â€
On her last flight to Costa Rica in 1998, the passenger count had been no different.
She tried to get to sleep about twenty minutes after take-off, but she couldnâ€™t manage it. She kept glancing out the window. â€œI never realized how much I hate flyingâ€¦â€
The stewardess was coming down the aisle. She stopped once, her back turned to Anne, to give some guy his drink. Anne expected when she turned around, to see the unfaltering, smiling face of the stewardess who had denied her a beer all those years ago.
But, when she turned around, it wasnâ€™t.
Instead, the stewardess was a middle-aged woman with black-hair pulled back in a neat bun under her cap. She wasnâ€™t smiling much.
Anne raised her hand, motioning for her to come over. She nodded, rolling the cart over, and said, â€œYes?â€
â€œDo you have...â€ She fought the temptation to ask for beer. â€œâ€¦ water?â€
â€œSure. Hold on, while I go get it.â€
Anne nodded, as the stewardess walked on, disappearing. Moments later she reappeared holding a cup of water, and handed it to Anne. â€œThanks,â€ Anne said, forcing a smile.
The stewardess nodded, unsmiling, and brushed past.
Anne took a sip, holding the cup in her left hand, and continued to stare out the window. The plane was now passing over a small town in the middle of a desert. The sky was clear, and Anne looked at her watch. â€œThree-thirty.â€
She had been flying for about forty-five minutes now. The plane had had a fifteen minute delay due to some luggage trouble being put into the storage bay.
The stewardess was coming back down the aisle now, and Anne stopped her. The stewardess glanced at Anneâ€™s cup, which was still pretty full, and asked, â€œWhat is it?â€
Anne had seen her glance. â€œNo, no. Itâ€™s not the water. Uh, how much longer do you think the flight will be?â€
The stewardess gave a shrug. â€œA half hour, maybe.â€
Anne nodded, â€œThanks.â€
Anne finished her glass a few minutes later, not bothering to get the stewardess to refill it. The stewardess looked like she didnâ€™t even care.
When the plane began flying over the jungle, Anne knew her flight was coming to an end. The city of San Jose fills the ground below the plane, and Anne says, â€œWelcome back Anneâ€¦â€
Seconds later, a voice clicks over the intercom. â€œThis is your pilot speaking. Weâ€™ll now be landing at Juan Santamaria International Airport. To further your safety, please utilize the safety harness straps on your seat while we land. The crew would like to thank you for flying with us, and hope that you choose our airline for further flights anywhere in the world.â€
The intercom clicked off.
She puts on her safety harness, seeing the runway fill up the ground below. The intercom clicks on and someone says, â€œWe are preparing to land.â€
The plane jolts, filling the cabin with a screeching sound as the tires hit the runway. The plane begins to slow, turning toward the airport itself. After several minutes, Anne removes the safety strap, as the plane fully stops, docking.
She gets up, pulling out her suitcase from the overhead storage compartment. Before she does, she pulls down the table on the back of the seat in front of her and sets down her empty glass.
She walks behind several other people, climbing out in the docking tunnel, and walks down it. She finally comes out into the terminal, stretching.
â€œAh,â€ she says. â€œGood old Santamaria International. How you been doing since I last saw you?â€
She laughs. A woman says, â€œHave a great 2003 vacation, maâ€™am.â€
Anne turns around to see an airport attendant smiling at her. Anne nods, â€œThanks.â€
Anne looks around, spotting the gleaming sign that reads: â€˜Entrance/Exitâ€™ in English and Spanish, pointing left.
She walks across the terminal, walking through the lightly bustling airport. Ahead, she spots the familiar glass doors of the entrance, and they slide open as she nears. She walks out onto the sidewalk, nearing the street, where several taxis are waiting.
â€œJust like beforeâ€¦â€
She pushes past two young children fighting over who has to carry a small suitcase, and then reaches the nearest taxi. She leans down, as the passengerâ€™s side window rolls down.
A rough voice comes from the driverâ€™s seat. â€œWhere do you need to go?â€
She ponders for a moment. â€œJaco.â€
â€œFine then. Get in.â€
Anne moves to the back, opening the door and throwing in her suitcase. She slides in next to it, closing the door, and sits in silence for several minutes as the taxi rumbles away from the airport. â€œHave you or any other driver driven or heard a mention of a group of people who came to the island within the last couple of days. Theyâ€™re a group of photographers?â€
Anne waited, impatiently. After a moment, the driver continued speaking. â€œWell, uh, one of our drivers, Enricoâ€¦â€
Enricoâ€¦ That sounds familiarâ€¦
â€œâ€¦ drove a girl and two other guys to Puntarenas, I think. They were meeting another group from the US. Thatâ€™s all he knew.â€
â€œIâ€™m, uh, looking for them, actually. Theyâ€™re, uh, friends of mineâ€¦â€
â€œYou donâ€™t sound so sure about thatâ€¦â€
Anne sighed, watching as the city of San Jose disappeared behind them.
A half an hour later, Anne had paid the driver and was standing on the sidewalk. Across from her she could see the beach, and it was nearing five oâ€™clock. Down the road were the docks, and she said, â€œIâ€™ll go there tomorrow, or tonight, if I have time. See if anyone knowsâ€¦â€
She lifted her suitcase up, remembering this street well. It had been on the other side of the road where she had met the man who had been the key turning point in placing her on Isla Sorna all those years ago.
Her memories filled her head.
â€œWhy? Why are you doing this?â€
â€œI canâ€™t let you just go to safety. Youâ€™ll be forced to tell what happened.â€
â€œWhat are you talking about?â€
â€œYouâ€™ll tell them I was the pilot. Theyâ€™ll learn I took everyone too close to the island, and in the end got them all killed. Iâ€™ll be blamed. All those deaths on my tab. If you go on, Iâ€™ll meet that end.â€
â€œIâ€¦ I still donâ€™tâ€¦â€
â€œShut up Anneâ€¦ Itâ€™s your fault. Your fault they all got killed. I welcomed you to Costa Rica, I offered you a flightâ€¦ You were new, beautiful. But you, you foolish little touristâ€¦â€
Anne shook her head, turning the corner. â€œThere we goâ€¦ A hotelâ€¦â€
Trespasser 2 - Chapter 1
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Trespasser 2 - Chapter 1
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Re: Trespasser 2 - Chapter 1
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