Jack just smiled. “So, are we good then?”
She blushed and nodded.
“For what it’s worth, I think Spencer is one lucky guy. Give yourself some credit too, Marcie.”
Marcie stood to stretch and gazed back towards the fissure entrance. Jocelyn, Spencer and the ‘cave man,’ Randrup, had been engaged in serious conversation since they’d arrived at the beach. All the talk was in French, so Marcie and Jack had moved off to stay with Debbie. Marcie knew what they were talking about, though. It had to do with all the stuff they’d seen in the cave, all those old coins, jewelry, statues…
Dr. Randrup had been overwhelmed. He’d stammered words like ‘encroyable!’ and ‘magnifique!’ along with many others in language or languages that were totally foreign to her. But the meanings were clear enough. What had impressed him the most were the big stones with writing on them. “Runestones” he’d called them. Marcy had taken photos of everything they’d seen. As owner of the only remaining charged and functioning cell phone in their group, she’d been enlisted as chief photographer of what Randrup claimed was the largest, most impressive and by far the most valuable store of Viking treasure ever discovered.
She bit her lip in concentration. If Randrup were simply describing the significance of what they’d seen, shouldn’t he be doing most of the talking? It looked to her as though Jocelyn and Spence were adding their share—and the discussion seemed to be a very serious one indeed.
“Hey, Jack,” she said, returning to the rock on which she’d been sitting, “What do you know about the Vikings?”
“Not much I’m afraid. I know they’re in the NFC North, along with the Packers, Bears and Lions. Why?”
His humor was lost on Marcie. She was deep in thought. “I don’t know. It seems those guys have a lot to talk about, and that’s the topic of conversation. The prehistoric world you were telling me about appears to play second fiddle to the relics we passed in the cave. What do you think about that?”
“Well, Randrup is an archeologist.” He shrugged, “Finding those artifacts had a big effect on him. He was happier than a pig in slop when he saw what Endicott had collected. That, by the way, is a direct quote from Jocelyn.”
“Hey, guys.” Jocelyn ducked into the shelter. Randrup and Spencer were on their way as well. The meeting was over. Jocelyn pointed to Debbie and motioned for the other two to follow her outside where the older woman wouldn’t hear them. Even though Debbie had been largely incoherent since their return, for some reason Jocelyn wanted to avoid involving her in the conversation.
A stiff breeze was now coming from offshore. The low-hanging Sun passed behind a cloud, causing an uncomfortable chill to descend upon the inhabitants of the beach. Jocelyn hugged herself and rubbed her arms to keep warm. “Dr. Randrup has asked a favor of us,” she began, “Spencer and I agreed, but we told him it had to be a unanimous decision. You two have to approve it as well.”
“What does he want?” Marcie asked.
“Dr. Randrup has asked that we not tell anyone about the early Triassic ecosystem in the island’s interior, or about the Viking relics that we saw today.”
“What? Why?”
“Yeah, these are important discoveries,” said Jack, “especially the biological part. Scientists have to know about this; there’s so much they can learn about evolution and adaptation, not to mention the possibility of finding new drugs, cures for cancer, produced by some of the plants. It’s unethical to keep this from the rest of the world.”
“Oh, the world will be informed, and soon; Randrup agrees with that. But think about what will happen if the island is opened up to study right away. The place will become a zoo. In addition to scientists flocking in from all parts of the globe, hordes of tourists and souvenir hunters will descend upon it.”
“Okay, I get it, but once people find out about it, that’s going to happen anyway.”
“Maybe not. Spencer and I presented the same argument to Dr. Randrup. He’s convinced that if strict controls are enacted by the Greenlandic government, the ecology of the island can be protected. He likens it to the Galapagos. Ecuador has regulated access to those islands very successfully for many decades. Randrup thinks Greenland can do the same thing with Eviskar. All he wants is time, time to set up Greenlandic and Danish naval patrol of the waters surrounding the island, and to establish protocol for access.”
Jack and Marcie looked at one another. When Jocelyn had compared Eviskar to the Galapagos Islands, it made a lot of sense. “I agree,” Marcie sighed. “I mean, let’s face it, I don’t know of any place on Earth where modern society openly lives in harmony with nature. Randrup has a point.”
“Me too,” Jack agreed.
“And, I think there’s more to Randrup’s request than he’ll admit,” Jocelyn offered. “He’s a dedicated scientist, but he’s also a proud Greenlander. I think he wants his country to play the lead role in the study of this fascinating place and its history. And, personally, I think we owe him a great deal. He saved our lives and he’s lived here under the harshest of conditions for more than a year. He’s earned the right to ask this of us.”
“I think I detect a bit of feminine intuition at work.”
“Yes, you do, most definitely.”
“There’s one problem I see with his plan,” Marcie said. The others regarded her questioningly. “There’s no way he’s going to convince anyone that he’s survived on this beach for a year. I mean, look at the way he’s dressed—half naked in a land where the high temperature in the summer is a balmy sixty degrees. Those people at the dig site are scientists; he won’t fool a single one of them.”
“When the rescue crew gets here, he won’t be around,” Jocelyn said. “That’s why he wrote this.” Jocelyn produced a sheet of paper that contained a brief note. “It’s written in his native language, Kalaallisut. I’m supposed to give it to Ittuk; he and Randrup are close friends and he’s one of only two people at the dig who can read and understand it. Randrup is apparently going to take Endicott’s raft a couple of nights from now, and land south of the excavation. Ittuk will hide him and find a way to smuggle him off the island.”
“How?”
“Beats me. I suspect…”
Jocelyn was interrupted by a shout from Spencer. Rounding the point to the north, motoring through the mist, were two zodiacs. Standing in the bow of the lead vessel was a dapper man wearing a safari vest and bush hat. Clenched between his teeth was an unlit pipe. Morgan Holloway and the cavalry had arrived.
* * *
Debbie rested peacefully on one of the two beds in the medical tent at the Eviskar archeological site. Tethered to one arm was an IV line through which flowed electrolytes, antibiotics and morphine. She was weak but responsive. Her husband sat contentedly by her side.
“Morgan,” she turned to him and smiled, “I’m sorry for inconveniencing you like this. It was my own stupid fault I got hurt. I know how important your research is, and I’m afraid I’ve ruined your summer. Thanks, though, for coming so quickly to rescue us. You really are my knight in shining armor.”
He gave her hand a squeeze. “Nonsense, everyone here, the entire excavation team, wanted to help when they found out you were in trouble. They’re a superb bunch. Doc Strøm says that you really owe a debt of gratitude to your students, in particular to the young girl Marcie, for the care she gave you. He was impressed—said she did everything right. He even intimated you might not have survived if not for her.”
He loaded his pipe bowl and drew a deep breath—marvelous. A colleague had gifted him two hundred grams of a wonderful Danish tobacco blend called “Asgard Gold.” He was dying to light it, but Strøm would crucify him for smoking in the presence of his patient. Content to savor the pleasant aroma without setting it afire, Morgan let out a satisfied sigh.
“So tell me what’s been going on here since we’ve been gone,” Debbie asked. “You seem pretty happy. I take it progress has been good?”
“Good?” he
chuckled, “Good is an understatement. I don’t mean to sound boastful, but we’ve been darned lucky on this trip, yes sir. Right after you left, one of the fellows ran a routine metal detection scan through sector nine.” Morgan leaned forward, his eyes bright, animated. “You’ll never guess what we dug up.” He paused for dramatic effect. “A foot below the surface we found an axe head and what appears to be a ladle. Deb, you can’t imagine the excitement that generated. Think of it, the first metal objects we’ve unearthed so far at this site. And what a find! The form of the axe is period for the 12th century. Gosh, it’s exciting. I wish the students we brought along could have shared in that, but I think they’ll be suitably impressed once I show them. Heh, heh…a lecture is probably in order as well, one that addresses the success rate of finds like this. I don’t want them to get the idea that such extraordinary discoveries are the norm.”
“Sorry I’ve made such a mess of things, sweetie. I don’t want to take you away from here when things are going so well.”
“Actually, you won’t. The Danish vessel that brought us here is due to pass through the day after tomorrow. They’ve kindly agreed to take you to Reykjavik. I was going to go along, but two of the Greenlanders, Ittuk and Nunni, will accompany you instead. It seems they’ve just been informed of some urgent business they have to address. I feel bad for them—just when things are getting exciting around here they have to leave.”
Debbie had closed her eyes. Morgan could tell she was exhausted. He stared at her, trying to imagine the hell she’d experienced on that cold desolate ridge. Four cracked ribs, a broken wrist and a shattered lower leg, serious injuries that were life threatening. A shudder went through him as he realized how close he’d come to being a widower. She was safe now, though. The serene expression on her face and the regular, unlabored breathing of sleep, told him all was well.
Morgan’s gaze shifted to the piece of leather lying on the ground by her bed. The litter the students had made for her had been a clever one, constructed out of twine and one of their sleeping bags. This leather piece had been placed under the bag to serve as reinforcement for the arduous trip from the accident site—a harrowing climb up over a cliff, followed by a long hike to the beach.
It was flexible and tough, and it bore a strange pattern of spots. Several containers they had unearthed the previous summer, satchels that had contained grain a thousand years ago, were made of the same spotted leather. The coincidence pointed to a local source for the material. But what? Had the students killed and skinned a large animal during their three day exodus? Most definitely not, Morgan concluded. A more plausible explanation is that they found a dead animal near the shore and harvested the hide—some sort of pinniped, most likely. Morgan guessed it was either harp seal or walrus. Both species had been spotted along the island’s coast. His thoughts wandered to the diet of the ancient Norsemen who’d lived on this shore and a thin smile formed around the ubiquitous pipe stem lodged between his teeth. The idea for yet another scientific publication was forming in his mind.
* * *
Two tender vessels from the Stjerne were beached on the sand near the Eviskar medical tent. A hundred yards offshore the parent ship lay at anchor, bobbing in heavy chop. The wind was incessant and the seas were rough. A storm was moving in.
Dr. Strøm, accompanied by Morgan and the four students watched Debbie’s transfer into the nearest boat. Her two Greenlandic chaperones climbed into the other craft, assisted by another man who was heavily bundled against the weather. The man walked with a pronounced limp, and a high collar and long-brimmed hat hid most of his face from view. To those on the beach he looked like a sailor from the Stjerne, assigned to help transfer the patient and the two researchers. To the men on the ship he appeared to be a fourth passenger. Only four of the people who stood on the beach in the bracing wind knew the man’s true identity, and they were not about to divulge that knowledge. He and the two Greenlanders would see Debbie safely to the hospital in Reykjavik, and then all three would book passage on the next flight to Nuuk, the capitol of Greenland. A sensitive meeting among top government officials and selected University faculty was scheduled for the instant they arrived.
XVIII.
Icelandic Airways flight 3219 from Reykjavik touched down at New York’s JFK international airport in the early morning of September 2nd. The four weary High School students on board, those returning from three months of dirty, backbreaking excavation work on Eviskar Island, waited for the other passengers to exit before hoisting their bags and heading for the gate.
The flight had been a pleasant one for Marcie Van Wormer. It hadn’t been completely full and Marcie had been lucky enough to find herself next to an empty seat. The fellow seated next to Spencer had been eager to swap seats with her, grateful for the extra privacy and elbow room.
As a cost saving measure, Morgan figured his charges could sleep on the plane, and had therefore booked their flight home for the morning after their water transport docked at Olafsvik. After four hours of bus ride across Iceland, they’d gone straight to the airport to wait for five more hours prior to leaving for the States. All were travel weary, but the excitement of their return home denied them sleep on the plane.
Anticipation of the imminent reunion with her folks, had charged Marcie with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Three months was a long time for any young person to be separated from her family, but it was especially so for someone as young as fifteen. So much had happened in that time, it seemed as though an eternity had passed, and in a strange, non-chronological way, it had. Marcie knew she had changed, all of them had. The stresses and hardships they’d endured on the island had been life-altering. A bond now existed among the four of them that was as strong, if not stronger, than that of siblings. Their close ties had been forged in the furnace of ordeal, developed over the stressful, life-threatening three days they’d been trapped in the island’s forbidding interior. Marcie, in particular, considered her fellow students to be her best friends, and it was going to be difficult for her to say goodbye. Throughout the long ride to Reykjavik and on the return flight home, she’d been aware that the end to this eventful summer was fast approaching. That end was now only moments away.
There was a long line at customs. Another full aircraft had arrived shortly before theirs—an early morning plane out of Paris. The tired students from Eviskar stood waiting to be processed in lines in front of each customs agent that snaked through several switchbacks in the huge, crowded room. At the moment, Jack’s line ran along one wall. He was seated on his rucksack leaning against the wall trying to doze.
Jocelyn was in heaven. She’d maneuvered into a line containing a French tour group and was listening intently to snippets of conversation. It was a wonderful opportunity not to be squandered. As a student of their native tongue, she listened for subtleties in pronunciation, diction and colloquialisms. She also enjoyed hearing the thoughts and perceptions of these tourists as they prepared to set foot in the United States.
The two younger students had become inseparable. Both wanted to spend as much time together as possible which, for Marcie, afforded her the opportunity to broach a sensitive subject, one she’d postponed raising until they were off the plane. In letters to her father she’d mentioned it, and now it was time to discuss it with Spencer.
“Hey, Spence, mind if I ask you something? It’s personal, so if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s cool.” He gave her a questioning look. “It’s about your foot.”
“What about it?”
“Well, my dad’s an orthopedic specialist, and…” She took his hand in hers. “He’s treated a lot of kids with talipes, you know, ‘club foot.’ From what I gather it’s real common. I was wondering if you, uh, might want him to look at it.”
“First of all, I don’t mind you askin’ me that, Marcie. It’s really nice of you. But from what I’ve read on the web, I think I’m too old for treatment. My bones have grown ‘an I think it’s too late. Like I said
, though, thanks for the thought.”
“What if you’re wrong? What if he could really help?”
“Yeah, sure, I guess, but I gotta be honest wicha; my parents probably can’t afford it. ‘An besides, I can live wit a slight limp. It’s no big deal.”
“Don’t worry about money. My dad wouldn’t charge you, and if you’re too proud to accept charity, we could work out some sort of deal maybe.” She looked away, somewhat embarrassed. “You could tutor me. I suck at math, Spence. My grades in it have been okay, but I overheard my dad and stepmom discussing the possibility of getting me some help.”
“What makes you think he’ll go along wit' that?”
“Oh, he will,” she said with a sly smile, “I’m his daughter. He has no choice.”
* * *
Standing just outside the door from customs, Marcie’s father and stepmom waited expectantly for their daughter’s triumphant appearance. Steven was trying valiantly to catch a glimpse of his daughter every time the exit door opened, but the crowds and chaos thwarted his attempts. Gail could tell he was excited. Although her husband prided himself on his self-control, always keeping tight rein on his emotions, the cold cup of coffee in his right hand revealed where his thoughts and feelings had been for the past twenty minutes. She’d never before seen Steven allow a good cup of java to cool down.
The moment Marcie exited customs, she spotted her folks. As promised, they had brought with them two large suitcases, the bags Jocelyn had been prohibited from taking to Eviskar. She ran first to her father and then to Gail, dishing out bear hugs along with the biggest smile either had ever seen. She’d really missed them. It was also apparent that she’d had a glorious, eventful summer abroad, but was overjoyed to be back.
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