by Barry Klemm
At the other end of the lake, Felicity strove to prepare the locals for the disaster to come, but at last information, had not even managed to get admitted to the country yet. Malawi, under a brutal and rigid bureaucracy, considered itself a perfect state and would not admit the possibility of trouble in their so-called paradise.
The lake itself was a tributary of the Great Rift Valley, but this was the nearest decent volcano to the expected zone—Mt Mbeya—a solitary cone amid a wild wide plateau that was in fact in Tanzania, where no one cared where she went and what she did. She had located a private helicopter firm and arranged to be brought here—the mountain was virtually inaccessible otherwise. A cheery Zambian named Bono flew her up here, and landed her right on the rim.
“You stay here?” he said, looking around.
“Yes. Unpack my equipment please. Then you can go.”
“Go? And leave you here?”
“That’s right. Pick me up tomorrow morning, as early as you can, if you can.”
“It’s not safe to stay up here all night. Alone...”
He tailed off.
Jami knew what he was thinking. Young women like herself constantly worked to maneuver young men like Bono into the right position to enjoy them as part of their ‘African experience’, and he plainly expected that now. AIDS infection in the region was about 85% but that did not deter the rich American women from fulfilling their sexual fantasies. But Jami had other things on her mind. She didn’t want to tell him that he had only an hour to get clear of the mountain or else he never would. She just wanted him to unpack the stuff and leave.
“Just dump all the stuff there,” she said flatly.
She surveyed the location while he did so.
It had been a long time since Mbeya’s last eruption, centuries, but the crater was deep, at least a thousand feet straight down and all solid lava and cinder. It crunched underfoot as she walked, and nothing grew here. Nothing to obstruct her view. From here she would be able to see and record everything that happened in that crater. All she had to do was get rid of silly Bono.
“Okay, now go.”
“A woman, all alone. Who knows what can happen?” he was babbling.
“Nothing can happen. No wild animals or humans can get up here. The weather is perfect. I’ll be fine. Now go. Come back tomorrow.”
Eventually, he saw her point. It was, perhaps, the safest place in Africa, in normal circumstances. She needed to herd him along but finally he went. She watched the little helicopter fly away across the mountains until it was out of sight. She expected a pang of regret or something but she was too excited. Time was running out and she had a lot to do.
First a box of seismos and other detectors, all fitted to a little transmitter to a monitor she had placed in the town of Mbeya below, which in turn would feed via the net to Val’s lab. The data would probably tell them nothing, but it did also provide her with an early warning device, if she needed it.
Next the two video cameras housed in a solid fireproof cases, one of which she set up right on the rim, so it could film the depths of the crater. That settled, she turned the other until it pointed at a director’s chair, placed beneath an umbrella.
Next a yellow, padded, fireproof overall, into which she fitted herself and a domed helmet that she left off for the moment. Now she was set. She turned the camera on and sat in the chair. She hoped she looked good—the light was turning orange and the slight breeze mussed her hair, but it was her show and she was the star, for the moment.
“I am sitting on the edge of the crater of Mt Mbeya, which, in a few minutes, I expect to erupt. I am here to observe that eruption from closer than anyone has ever been. I’m doing this for my own satisfaction, but I brought this camera and some data gatherers along, for what it’s worth. The box of tricks will record data for as long as it lasts, the camera will record the eruption for as long is it lasts, and I was stand on the edge and observe it for as long as I last. This is going to be the best thing I’ve ever done.”
That sounded good. She was sure her voice was level and she was calm and looked happy, which was also the way she felt. There was exhilaration, and if she was also apprehensive, she wasn’t anywhere near as troubled as someone ought to have been when they were within moments of being blown to smithereens.
She had allowed herself minimum time so there was as little opportunity for her emotions and survival instincts to overwhelm her as possible. And anyway, whenever the fear snatched at her, she thought of Harley. This will show you, big fella. Even you have never been this close.
“It might sound suicidal, but it isn’t really. All the data is being transmitted and in sealed containers so it has a good chance of lasting as long as possible. The camera is fitted with a special steel case and padding and it probably won’t survive but think of the footage if it does. They reckon it can survive being dropped from a hundred feet, so maybe there will be something to show for it. But if not, bad luck. All that is secondary anyway. I’m here for me. I have this special suit and helmet but of course I can’t predict what will happen to me and I don’t care. This is worth it. I always wanted to stand on the edge of one of these things and watching it happen and now I will. It’s worth it.”
It was also stupid, but that was what she had been. Stupid, stupid, to chase after blokes like Glen and believe in men like Harley Thyssen. They put it over her, every time and it had to stop and this was the only way to stop it. If she died, she died, but think of the respect she would gain if she survived. It was worth it.
“That’s all,” she said with a smile. “Enjoy the show.”
She got up and swivelled the camera on its tripod to point into the crater. Perfect. She quickly checked the other equipment and then walked to the edge of the crater and looked down. Nothing was happening.
For the moment, she kept the helmet tucked under her arm like a spare head. She would put it on when necessary, but she wanted to see this with the naked eye, for as long as she could, rather than through a visor. This was going to be fantastic.
Harley had lied. He had lied to her. He had lied to the world. He was setting himself up to be the only man who could get it right, the top man, king of the world, but he had rigged the results to do so. Just another megalomaniac, convinced that what was right for him was right for everyone. He probably had his reasons but she didn’t care. She had placed her faith foolishly once more and it would never, never happen again. That was all.
Something was happening... First she felt the grip of nausea that she remembered from that first time, and she seemed to lose consciousness for an instant. She dropped onto one knee and almost pitched headfirst into the crater. Her senses had shut down for an instant, then recovered, and she knew it wasn’t fear and doubt. It was the effect. Every instinct screamed at her now to run but she knew there was nowhere to run to. Stay, her mind ordered, stay and do this right.
She felt the ground begin to shake under her feet and down in the crater, cracks appeared. There was the illusion suddenly that she had fallen in and was dropping toward the bottom of the chasm but it wasn’t so—the depths were moving up to meet her. Through the cracks, she saw glimpses of the fiery lava beneath and then the gases and smoke and dust suddenly burst through and instantly filled the crater and her world. She frantically got her head into the helmet and snapped it into place, and by then was blinded by the cloud as it burst by her. Then everything was a blur, and then it was gone. The final sensation was flying through the air... It seemed she was spinning like a top, around and around or over and over, and through her visor she glimpsed the red hot ash cloud pursuing her down the slope as her body tumbled just out of its searing grasp.
And her mind screaming. “What do you think of this one, Harley!”
13. GOODBYE CALIFORNIA
Like the first amphibian crawling onto land, so she emerged into consciousness in a slow uncertain fashion, with images and fragments that slowly coalesced over what she understood to be a considerable le
ngth of time.
Mostly, the images were faces leaning close to hers, and white jackets, and tubes, and silver instruments, and little flashing lights.
And all along, the visage of Harley Thyssen appeared again and again and she wanted to have a few words to him. ‘See what you made me do, Harley, you lying bastard,’ she wanted to tell him. And maybe she said it too, because when finally she snapped out of it, he was there.
“Nurse, you better have a look at this,” his gruff voice commanded from somewhere outside her limited range of vision.
“Oh, yes, Professor. I think she’s finally back with us.”
The nurse leaned over and looked into her eyes.
“Gllllurrreck,” Jami said to her.
“That’s right, dear. You just take it easy. Do you have any pain?”
She remembered that she had a body, but it didn’t seem to be there at the moment. She was just a dismembered head on the pillow, looking upward. But, because the nurse obviously understood gobbledygook perfectly, she thought she’d better mention it.
“Nobble bobbie,” she declared informatively..
“Yes. That’s just effect of the painkillers. If you feel any pain, I can give you something.”
“Nopin,” she said. Nothing at all really. Obviously she was much worse than she thought.
Then Thyssen leaned over her. She would have spat in his eye but her mouth was devoid of moisture.
“Dim wit,” Thyssen said.
“Assole,” she replied.
The clairvoyant nurse immediately provided a plastic cup of pink fluid and it refreshed her and she tried to keep from gulping it all down but couldn’t... and Harley had moved out of range anyway.
She indulged her exhausted eyelids a slow blink in which a long time must have passed because Harley had transmuted into Felicity Campbell.
“How am I?” she asked.
“Don’t ask me. This is my day off. I’m just a visitor.”
But Felicity couldn’t help herself—Jami felt pressure on her wrist and a cool hand on her cheek. “Give it to me straight, doc.”
“There’s only two hours of visiting left. Nowhere near enough time to tell you all of it.”
“That bad, huh?”
“You did quite a job on yourself, if that’s what you mean. But you do have some bones that aren’t broken, and one or two organs that are still working properly. You’ll live to regret your foolishness.”
“It wasn’t foolish, Fee. It was fucking great.”
Plainly Doctor Felicity knew how to ignore nonsense when she heard it. “The good news is that everything that’s wrong with you will mend eventually. Which makes you one of the luckiest people on the planet.”
She already knew that. “What about the equipment?”
Felicity was shaking her head in dismay. “Oh, I see. So your insanity is completely incurable. Perhaps we shouldn’t bother with a million dollars worth of medical science to make you well again. Maybe we just ought to turn you over to some witch doctor and have him sacrifice you to the volcano god and be done with it.”
Promising idea... “Did the film come out?”
“It did. We’ve got it here in the video—you can have a look when you’re able to turn your head enough to see the television screen. You’ll also be the last person on Earth to see it. It’s been shown on every news program and everyone in the world sat in their lounge rooms and said Wow! They also all said What a stupid person.”
So what was the bad news? Maybe that it hurt her lips when she tried to smile. “It was worth it, Fee. My God it was worth it. What about the data?”
“Harley said the data is fantastic.”
She remembered. Bloody Harley. Asshole. “He was here...”
“Yes. He haunted the place for three days until they assured him you would be all right. He left when I arrived.”
“Bastard!”
“So he said. Apparently, this was all his fault.” Felicity’s pout doubted it.
“It was,” Jami insisted, like a child who knew in advance that the adults would not believe her.
Felicity obviously caught the same metaphor. “Sooner or later, the student must stop blaming the teacher for their shortcomings and take responsibility for themselves.”
Bastards. They were all in it together... “No, Fee. Really. He lied. He lied to me. He lied to all of us. The bastard.”
Somehow Felicity was able to shrug that off. “Okay, so he lied. Everyone lies. Was that any reason to have yourself blown from Tanzania to Malawi?”
“He lied about the data, Fee. He rigged it so that everyone else would come to the wrong conclusions.”
Incredibly, Felicity was even patting her on the back of the hand. “You must stop thinking about that for now, Jami. It’s making you too excited. Your anger is registering on all the monitors.”
Indeed, it brought the nurse with a worried look.
“But he...”
“Jami. Stop thinking about this or they’ll have to tranquillise you again. I mean it.”
She calmed. The nurse stood, looking dubious and frowning as Felicity waved her away. “It’ll be all right now. She’s calming.”
And Jami finally felt something. Sensation at last. Something tickling her on the cheek. Felicity reached with a tissue and wiped the tear away. The nurse finally backed off.
“We can talk about those sorts of things later, when you’re stronger. But put it out of your mind for the moment, okay?”
“I guess...”
“Have you seen your flowers?”
There were bright coloured blobs at the periphery of her vision. Felicity walked around and moved them so she could see them more clearly.
“Did you bring them?”
“No. A lovely little black man named Bono.”
She supposed the dials must have gone berserk if the thrill that passed through her system was any guide. “He came back for me!”
“Indeed he did. He couldn’t stay but I spoke to him. He...”
Her memory was filled with his huge toothy smile and shining black face. “He was so worried about leaving me there.”
Felicity was seated again and nodding. “He told me about it, Jami. His country was blown to hell and he hadn’t slept for days but every chance he went back and flew across the slopes and saw something yellow. It was just your arm sticking out of the ashfall. He landed on a thirty degree slope of hot ash halfway down the mountain and dragged you into his helicopter and saw your camera and grabbed that too. He thought you were dead, of course. He was so excited when he learned you had survived.”
Her emotions were really out of control in a way they had never been before, not even over Glen. “My hero. Will he be coming back?”
“He, and his helicopter, are still badly needed. It’s chaos out there. But yes, he’ll be coming back. He found time to bring the flowers, didn’t he?”
“Wonderful man. I’ll marry him.”
“The planet is full of wonderful people, Jami. It really is worth saving. And we need you to help save it.”
It flooded back again. “He lied to us, Felicity. I believed in that man so much and he lied.”
“But we need him too, Jami. Personally, I find it rather gratifying to discover that Harley Thyssen is just another flawed human being like the rest of us.”
“I never want to see him again.”
“The readings are going off the scale, Jami. Calm down. Stop thinking about it.”
And the nurse was there.
“Yes, I know,” Felicity said to the authoritarian scowl and then, as she stood, smiled down on Jami. “Put Harley out of your mind. Think about Bono. And how he came back for you.”
*
Lorna Simmons dumped her briefcase on the polished top of the mahogany table, flipped it open, removed her cell phone, closed the case, and sat leaning her elbows on it. Four men and six women sitting around the table all watched her every move. She presumed she was wearing her expectant expression. They wer
e executives, producers, managers—it didn’t matter who they were really and Lorna had not bothered to learn any of their names properly. The big boss-cocky was named Roy, and dangerous woman executive producer was named Katrina, and the rest were generally lackeys and brown-tongues. All they were to her were the people that called that shots at CNN.
“Okay, let me tell you what we want?” Lorna smile blithely.
“By ‘we’, you are referring to, who exactly?” Katrina asked, in case Lorna failed to notice that she had an equal rival in the mini-power struggle to follow immediately.
“The Unofficial Project Earthshaker, for which I am merely the humble spokesperson,” Lorna said with a coy bow and a nervous hand to her throat.
“But who do you speak for exactly?” Katrina persisted.
“The Project is a collective. Media is my responsibility.”
“I see. I had hoped you might be speaking for Harley Thyssen.”
“In part, yes.”
“And I was wondering why Professor Thyssen doesn’t speak for himself.”
“He doesn’t because he has me to speak for him. And he is much too busy trying to save the world to bother with television interviews. And he isn’t pretty.”
“Why does he feel he needs to be so defensive?”
It was war, then. “Do your questions always inherently harbour their own answers?”
“Ladies, ladies, please...” Roy was saying placatingly.
But since both sides believed they had won, the war was temporarily suspended.
Lorna had been thinking a lot about Harley, and she had begun, amongst other things, to wonder why he hid so resolutely behind her. Admittedly, he was not the television celebrity type, but he seemed to handle his words with care at all times and if so, why did he fear that he might let the cat out of the bag when confronted with a professional interviewer? And what particular cat was that, anyway? The question was, as the likes of Katrina suspected, that if Harley really did harbour secrets so terrible that he feared to speak publicly, just in case such secrets slipped out? And if so, given what was known, how much more terrible could those secrets be?