The Adventurer's Son by Roman Dial

Author:Roman Dial
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2020-01-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

The Corners

The yellow bag, Corners Hostel, July 25, 2014.

Courtesy of the author

Thai and I left into the night to find where Roman had stayed. We made our way to each of Puerto Jiménez’s half-dozen hostels. In fluent Spanish, Thai asked the proprietors if they had seen the young man in the photo we showed. An hour after leaving MINAE headquarters we crossed the only paved street in town, walked past the long-distance bus stop, and arrived at the Corners Hostel. Heavy metal bars enclosed the two-story building up to its tin roof. In front, a picnic table sat beside a small, empty parking lot.

We walked in. An old lady about four and a half feet tall shuffled out in slippers and a simple blue smock patterned in plaid. She was Doña Berta, the owner. She had short-cropped hair, milky blue eyes, and a warm smile, but no English. Thai handed her the photo and asked if she’d seen the young man. “Si. He stayed here, in the dormitory,” Doña Berta said in Spanish.

My heart raced. We found where he stayed! Maybe he’s coming back. Doña Berta showed where Roman had signed in. There, on July 8, he signed his given name Cody Dial next to his passport number. This evidence of him comforted me, even if it was just his neat, small-lettered handwriting. I looked at the computers in the office for guest use, wondering if he had typed his emails there. “Ask if the police came by.”

“No,” Doña Berta responded. Thai and I were the first to ask about him.

“Had he come back?”

“No,” she said, “but he left money for his return.” She opened a different notebook. Her diminutive hands pointed to an entry in the ledger. He had paid for a dorm bed and was coming back.

“Did he leave anything?” I asked, thinking of all the trips when we’d left things in hotel or airport storage as we headed for the mountains, rivers, and jungles from Australia to Alaska. Doña Berta led us out to a caged-in corner of the building. Immediately I saw the small yellow duffel bag marked “Forrest McCarthy, Jackson, WY.” Another wave of warmth and excitement passed over me. The familiarity of his things made him feel close.

Where is he? What is he doing? When will he be back?

Inside the cage was a big backpack, too, but I didn’t recognize it. It belonged to another traveler, I surmised, and ignored it. Instead, I pawed through the contents of the yellow bag, looking for answers. Inside was a red spiral notebook. I tore out a page and I wrote him:

Friday 7/25 8:30 PM

Rome, We were worried when we didn’t hear back after 5 days, so Thai and I came down looking for you. Email or go to Corcovado Park Headquarters. There’s a big search on for you. Hope you are OK!

Dad

Back at MINAE headquarters, we got in our rental jeep and drove to the Iguana. Toby and Lauren were waiting, eager for an update.

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