Page 52 of Toy

I shook my head. “What volcano?”

“El Viejo.”

“No.”

“Okay. Well, our country gets a lot of tourists coming to visit our volcanoes. They are mostly in the north and central regions, and most people believe the Talamanca Mountains have none at all. But that isn’t true. There is one in this region which we call El Viejo. It was dormant for a long time, but in the late 70’s, it became active again. Nothing dangerous; no major eruptions. It just rumbles every so often and spits out some steam, and sometimes a bit of magma. There’s also a hot lake near it. The water is warmed by the volcano. It’s hard to get to because it involves a very long and difficult hike, but it’s quite spectacular, so it’s become popular with tourists around here who want something more than beaches.”

“That’s interesting,” I said, creasing my forehead as I wondered what the hell a volcano had to do with anything.

“A while after the girls started disappearing, some people in these parts began to notice a pattern. Every time the volcano rumbled and spewed out gas or magma, a girl would vanish within a couple of days. A few people spread rumors saying that the volcano is in a haunted area, and now, a lot of people from the surrounding towns and villages won’t go near it because of these rumors. It’s mostly tourists who go there now.”

“Uh-huh.”

Gabriel turned and spoke to Leonel for another minute or so. “My grandfather wants to say this to you: I am not a superstitious man. I’ve never been one for silly rumors about ghosts and monsters. The volcano is not haunted. I have often wondered if someone has taken the girls for nefarious reasons, and he—or they—have used the volcanic activity as a sort of mask. Does this make sense to you?”

My heart seemed to freeze before pounding rapidly. I held up a palm. “Could you give us a minute?” I asked. Gabriel nodded, and I turned to Beck. “The cultists convinced a ton of kids that the apocalypse happened back in 1999, just to scare them into submission. They could be doing something similar now, right? They could snatch up a few young girls whenever the volcano spits out some lava, and they could tell them something like: ‘This volcano is the harbinger of end times, but we’re here to help. The only safe place is with us’. The girls are all very young and impressionable. Easy to terrify into submission. They might follow the men with the promises of safety, and once they are completely taken in, it’s too late to escape.”

“I was thinking the exact same thing,” Beck replied in a low voice, setting her jaw. “This could give us a more specific location, too. Wherever this volcano is, the cultists have to be nearby, because they have to be able to see its activity so they can decide to go and grab some more girls under the pretense of saving them from doom.”

We turned back to the two local men. “Gabriel, could you please tell your grandfather that we understand what he means and we agree with him, and could you also ask him to show us where this volcano is on a map?” I asked.

I pulled out a large map we’d purchased at a local tourist store and laid it flat on the table. Leonel took my pen, leaned over, and circled an area about forty miles inland.

“It’s there,” Gabriel said. “It seems quite close, but don’t be fooled. Like I said earlier, it’s very hard to get to because of all the mountains. Even if you can get a private plane to drop you nearby, it’s still a long hike from there. At least a day. Three without a plane.”

I nodded slowly. “Is there any land close to the volcano where people could live?”

Gabriel frowned briefly and shook his head. “Not very close, no. It’s mostly steep mountains and dense forest around there. The volcano is on a very high peak, though, so anyone who lives within a certain range of it can see and hear when it becomes active.”

“Think you could circle that radius on the map?” I asked. It wasn’t an exact location, but it certainly narrowed it down a lot.

“Of course.”

“This is very helpful,” Beck said, eyes glowing with gratitude. “Please thank Leonel for us.”

Gabriel nodded and spoke to the older man again. Then he looked back at us. “There’s more,” he said. “But he knows you are busy and doesn’t want to waste your time. So he would like you to show him the photo you showed me earlier, to see if it’s the same man he once met.”

I pulled out the photo of Jacob Chastain that Beck and I had managed to find online the other day. He hadn’t been seen in public in over eight years, for obvious reasons, so it was quite an old photo, but Leonel’s eyes immediately lit up when he caught sight of it. He spoke to his grandson even faster now, one hand vigorously gesturing.

Gabriel smiled. “Yes, he recognizes this man. He’s met him before.”

“In the last eight years?” Beck asked, raising one hopeful brow.

“No.” He shook his head firmly and pointed out the café window, toward a hotel on the corner. “See that place?”

We turned and looked. “Yes.”

“Part of it used to be a bar. My grandfather owned it many years ago. He said he met this man at the bar when I was still a child. He thinks it would’ve been around ’97 or ’98.”

“That’s close to when the cult would’ve started building the backup place here,” Beck muttered in my ear. “It makes sense.”

I nodded and leaned toward Gabriel. “What does he remember?”

“He says that back then, this area hadn’t become popular with tourists yet. It was quite rare to see Americans or other foreigners, but one day five men came into the bar. All white Americans. One of them spoke Spanish, however, and after some drinks, he chatted to my grandfather for a while.”

“Was it this man?” I asked, tapping a finger on the photo.

Gabriel shook his head. “No. The man in the photo seemed to be the leader of the group, but the Spanish-speaker was another one. Anyway, my grandfather asked what brought the men into town. At first, the man said they were on a cruise which had docked for a week up in Limon, and they’d heard about the bar in Puerto Viejo and wanted to check it out. Apparently my grandfather used to make very good drinks.”

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