The anchor hit the ocean with a hollow clunk, followed by the mechanical groan of the chain playing out. It echoed against the calm, glassy water.

  Maria leaned over the yacht’s railing, her hoodie flapping in the salt-thick breeze. Below, the island stretched like a sleeping giant. Dense jungle rolled from the shoreline up toward dark, jagged hills. Trees towered high and close together. No sound came from the green, no movement. Just the distant call of some bird they didn’t recognize and the gentle slap of water against the fiberglass hull.

  Isla Nublar. The wild jungle and ominous hills made it hard to believe this place was supposed to be a tourist destination.

  “She’s a beauty,” Cassy said, stepping up beside Maria with a steaming mug in one hand and sunglasses already in place. She sipped, surveyed the island as it belonged to her, then turned toward the others. “Alright! Who’s ready to make history?”

  Jake whooped from across the deck, raising a backpack like he was boarding a ski trip. Clark followed with his usual grunt and blank expression. Sandra gave a hesitant cheer. Samuel helped Emilia load two coolers into the dinghy without a word. Maria didn’t move.

  Cassy caught the hesitation. “Something wrong, Maria?”

  Maria stared at the treeline. “You’re sure this is safe?”

  Cassy smiled like Maria was an adorable child. “Define safe.”

  “Safe, as in we leave alive and whole.” Maria quipped, frustrated at Cassy’s nonchalant attitude.

  “Yes, it’s safe.” Cassy waved a hand dismissively. “It’s been a decade. The government scrubbed the place. It’s nothing but trees and ghosts now. Come on.”

  Sandra touched Maria’s arm gently. “Come on, girl. It’s gonna be fine.”

  Maria didn’t answer, but she followed them down the steps. A large part of her was telling her to stay. But another part of her didn’t want Sandra to go without her. A smaller, more traitorous part of her really wanted to see the Island.

  The dinghy skimmed across the water, motor buzzing like a fly in a bottle. The yacht shrank behind them. Ahead, the island loomed larger with every wave.

  The North Dock appeared around a bend in the trees, or what remained of it. Time had not been kind. The wooden pier was half-submerged, several support beams snapped, and sunken. The gangway had collapsed entirely, its twisted metal railing pointing at odd angles. Moss and creeping vines had overtaken every visible surface. A rusted sign hung crooked from a lamppost: Authorized Personnel Only.

  Jake steered the dinghy toward the least-broken section of the dock. Samuel and Clark leapt ashore first, tying the boat to a bent cleat. Planks creaked under their weight.

  Cassy was the first woman over the side, tossing her duffel ahead and hopping after it like she was on holiday. Sandra followed, less enthusiastically.

  Maria stepped onto the dock last. The wood bowed beneath her boots. She glanced back at the dinghy. The yacht bobbed far out in the bay now, white and distant.

  “Let’s move!” Cassy called. “We’ve got a hike ahead of us, and I want to make camp by noon.”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “Camp?” Maria exchanged a look with Emilia, who offered a faint shrug.

  The group moved inland. What had once been a service trail was now a cracked, moss-slick path flanked by shoulder-high ferns and creepers. Yellow paint lines still showed in places under the grime. A broken sign leaned at the trailhead, barely readable: Visitor Center / Tour vehicle maintenance / Staff housing.

  Birds scattered at their approach. The air grew heavy and humid as the jungle closed in.

  Jake hacked at vines with a stick like he was leading a safari. Cassy forged ahead, never checking if anyone kept pace. Sandra kept wiping sweat from her forehead and muttering about bug spray. Clark said nothing. Samuel filmed on a handheld camcorder, occasionally narrating like he was on a nature special.

  Maria walked near the back with Emilia, ducking low-hanging branches, boots catching on roots.

  “How far is it?” she asked.

  Emilia glanced up from her own quiet thoughts. “Depends on how much is still standing.”

  Maria looked ahead, through the curtain of green and shadow, and tried not to wonder how many people had never made it back out.

  After what seemed like hours of walking, the trail opened into a wide clearing. The Visitor Center loomed like a forgotten temple, half-swallowed by jungle. Vines strangled its columns. Moss clung to the once-smooth concrete. The grand staircase was cracked in places, sprouting ferns and grass from the seams. Its once-polished doors hung slightly ajar, tilted off their hinges. Above them, the carved stone relief of a raptor was chipped, streaked with bird droppings, and time.

  No one spoke.

  It had once welcomed celebrities and scientists, senators and investors. Now it sat in the heat like a corpse. It had been built to impress, but now it was barely standing.

  Cassy broke the silence. “God, it’s like… majestic decay.” She snapped a photo with her disposable camera. “This is so cool.”

  Maria just stared. It was one thing to joke on the yacht, another to stand in front of what looked like a set from the end of the world. The building radiated silence that didn’t feel natural.

  Sandra pulled out a Polaroid and took a photo with a loud mechanical whirr. The print ejected, developing slowly in her hand. “We should totally pose on the steps later.”

  Jake didn’t wait. He climbed up the cracked stairs two at a time and vanished through the doors.

  “Jake!” Sandra called. “Wait up!”

  Cassy followed, motioning for the others. “Let’s go, people. This place is massive.”

  One by one, they entered.

  Inside, the light changed, cooler, filtered through gaps in the ruined roof. Glass crunched under their shoes. The once-grand rotunda stretched high above, its domed ceiling partially collapsed, vines trailing down like organic chandeliers. Birds scattered from the rafters, startled by their arrival.

  At the center of the room, two skeletons lay toppled. A massive Tyrannosaurus rex and its prey, an Alamosaurus, had once stood in frozen combat. Now they were broken, ribcages collapsed, jaws scattered across the cracked marble floor. Graffiti marked the wall behind them: “Death land USA” scrawled in faded black spray paint.

  Jake was already circling the fallen bones like they were part of a skate park. “Get a look at this. What do you think happened?”

  “How should we know?” Cassy muttered. She rolled her eyes. “There were supposed to be big hungry dinos, right? Maybe one of them knocked it down.”

  Maria stepped closer, eyes scanning the wreckage. On a far wall, half-buried under collapsed debris, hung a faded park map. She tugged it free carefully, brushing off dust. “I think we’re here,” she murmured, pointing to a spot near the rotunda icon. “If this is still accurate, then the control room should be… that way.”

  No one responded. Most had wandered engrossed in the wonder of it all.

  Sandra was snapping more Polaroids. Clark sat on a cracked stone bench, drinking from his canteen. Samuel filmed the ceiling, panning slowly like he was filming a documentary.

  Jake, of course, had found a pillar near the entry and was carving something into it with a pocketknife. “Claiming it,” he said, glancing back at Maria. “You know, for future generations.”

  “You’re an idiot,” she said without heat.

  By the mural, a stone relief of John Hammond smiling eternally under a carved sunburst, Emilia stood alone. She traced the chipped edges of the stone frame with her fingertips, saying nothing.

  Maria approached her. “You, okay?”

  “I’ve seen this place before,” Emilia said quietly. “Photos. A few grainy news clips. But standing here…”

  “Feels like a tomb,” Maria finished.

  Emilia nodded. “It’s stupid, but it feels like there are ghosts.”

  Maria shook her head. “It’s not stupid, I feel it too.”

  Outside, the jungle rustled. Leaves shifted. Something unseen moved, too large to be wind, too careful to be a bird. No one noticed. No one paid attention.