by Ellis, Tara
“You know what? Never mind. Just tell me why you called.” Stopping in front of a small glass display case sitting on a corner of her wooden desk, Mads marveled at the innocuous-looking rock inside, while listening. Her expression slowly changed from contention to curiosity and then an eyebrow raised in admiration. “Okay, Captain. This will be the one card you get to play. Understand? I’ll make some calls, but they’ll have to get to the airport on their own. I’ll be contacting you with new coordinates for the exchange. You just make sure to deliver Dr. Kelly.”
Hanging up the phone thoughtfully, Mads sat back down and stared at it for several heartbeats. It was a rare moment of introspection without movement. “Well I’ll be,” she finally mumbled while spinning her office chair toward her three-monitor display. “The woman has more cojones than I gave her credit for.”
Pulling at her wild pile of naturally curly black hair, Mads slipped a band from her wrist and did her best to contain what she called her “mop”. Grumbling under her breath, she glanced at the thermostat on the wall to confirm it wasn’t really a hundred degrees in her house, before studying the first computer screen. It was showing a real-time satellite display of the Indian ocean, a feed the general public didn’t have access to.
Barely two hours after the historic eruption, although technically that didn’t adequately describe the event, and already the repercussions were beyond anyone’s predictions. Even hers, and that was saying a lot. Hundreds of thousands already dead between Mauritius and Madagascar, with up to a billion threatened on the African continent. Mads hadn’t even had time to consider the further ramifications of the spreading ash column, and the degree of what would equate to a nuclear winter.
The center screen flashed the latest update on the magnitude of the recent earthquake along the coast of Washington and Oregon. The normally dramatic woman stared stoically at the number. Nine-point-three. Well, it had gone down a tenth of a point from the original estimate, though it didn’t really matter in the scope of things. It was too early to even speculate about the casualties. Her eyes darted to a shadowy area behind the displays.
A framed picture of her and Dr. Henry Crane kept drawing her attention and interfering with her train of thought. In it, they were standing on a tropical beach, arms locked in what could have either been interpreted as friendship or a deeper camaraderie. They were both tan, smiling, and a good fifteen years younger. She barely remembered what it felt like to be in her mid-forties. Reaching out, Mads slammed the photo down, cursing. “You were a fool, Henry!”
Snatching her hand away, Mads refused to shed a tear for the man. Not while there was so much work to be done. He’d made his own coffin and then proceeded to bury himself in it. She did all she could to pull him out, but he wouldn’t listen. He never did.
Frustrated she was still thinking about him even after her attempts to block the memories out, Mads scooped up her warming glass of whiskey. The lack of ice tinkling only deepened her foul mood so that she gulped the burning liquid down in one swallow.
“It’s most definitely five o’clock somewhere.” Mads toasted the empty glass before smashing it back onto the desk. She could care less that it wasn’t yet eight in the morning.
The alcohol only added to her inability to focus, and combined with the warm air, the large office suddenly felt much smaller. Too small.
Jumping back up, Mads stomped out onto an attached deck which overlooked a grand vista of ragged mountains and deep valleys. She had carefully chosen the location before building her modest home, right down to where the windows faced and the roof peaked, to take advantage of both the views and power of the sun. It was completely off the grid, powered by the latest technology in solar energy and water collection. That didn’t mean she was dis-connected, however. Mads also had all of the cutting-edge communication gadgets. She had to, in her line of work.
A warm breeze tugged at her inadequate ponytail, freeing some strands and using them to caress her face. She sighed and looked begrudgingly at the tan-colored company polo she was wearing, complete with the elaborate ICONS logo over her left breast. It consisted of an infinity symbol overlaid with compass points and the acronym creatively placed inside. Mads had already been involved in no less than four teleconference calls, and had to look the part.
The International Coalition Of Natural Sciences was a corporation led by a group of powerful, influential politicians and billionaires. Mads was not one of them, but rather the spokesperson for the MOHO oversight committee. It didn’t start out that way.
ICONS was the primary financial backer for the MOHO deep drilling project that eventually led to the initial submarine volcano eruption. When the NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmosphere Association) and other government agencies formed a team to investigate, it was only natural for ICONS to become an active part of it.
Mads had been brought on board before the drilling even started.
Grimacing as another hot blast of air hit her, she spun away from what was normally her sanctuary and went back inside. There would be no reprieves, nothing to soothe her soul.
The marine biology and geophysics doctorate certificates mocked her from where they hung, framed on a wall. Below them were four more minors in zoology, chemistry, geology, and seismology. Over thirty years as a researcher and teacher at UCLA before retiring two years earlier. Aside from the respect of her peers, Mads didn’t have much else in her life other than what the tacky shirt she wore represented. And now there was a very real potential that all of it could be wasted. She couldn’t…no, wouldn’t let that happen.
Mads went back to her desk, stopping first to bump up the air conditioning. She stretched her arms before sitting, as if she were about to be put into the game. It was time to do some real work.
The drill site and lab were a total loss, as were the islands themselves. With the nearest international airports capable of launching any real rescue attempt being over a thousand miles away from Madagascar, they were still on their own for several more hours. However, with the methane plume projected to be carried right over the African continent by the trade winds, there wouldn’t be any help coming from there. No, Diego Garcia was the only option for retrieving what was left of their team.
Mads had some additional calls to make, but first she needed to gather more information. There would be questions. There were always questions, especially from the ones who demanded results without understanding all the potential ramifications. They didn’t care until it impacted them personally.
A high-pitched scream drew Mads attention to the third computer screen. On it, a video from Youtube was playing on a loop. It showed a surreal scene, starting out as an exotic paradise with manicured lawns in the middle of a thick jungle. It panned across a large group of tourists and ended on a gorgeous geothermal pool that Mads had to admit she’d never seen before. However, the calm waters and apparent ceremony of some kind, abruptly turned to chaos when the water erupted into what looked like a large geyser.
She’d watched it at least a dozen times already. In the description, the owner of the account stated she had uploaded the video from the airport after fleeing the Suriname resort. The tourist called it the Libi Nati Hot Springs Preserve.
Mads clicked on another tab already pulled up, and skimmed over the description of the Libi Nati. She printed out the small article that cited Doctor Eric Davies, and its accompanying picture. Across the top of the paper, she wrote down the time stamp of the first-time geyser eruption: 8:58 am, local time in Suriname, South America. Mads leaned back and tapped at her teeth with the pen. With the time difference, it worked out to roughly fifteen minutes after the MOHO explosion. An hour before the mega-quake on the Cascadia Subduction Zone in Washington State.
Attacking the keyboard, the printer soon whirred two more times. Mads ripped the papers from the tray and repeated the process, writing down the local time of each event.
Mads took the three sheets and went to stand in front of the wall opposite her degree
s. A large corkboard dominated it, and was covered with various articles and images from around the world. To a casual observer, it would look like nothing more than the ravings of an obsessed lunatic.
Mads chuckled. The depiction might not be too far from the truth. She hadn’t gotten the nickname because of her quiet demeanor. It started out as Mad Madeline and had slowly been reduced to simply “Mads”. With her habit of talking with her hands in a manic fashion, she’d happily accepted the reputation. People were more likely to leave her alone so she could get her work done.
Plucking some unused tacks from the cork, Mads studied the board. The top was dominated by images of the Outlander, the ICONS symbol, and what looked like an innocent picture of dirty ice. Below those was a map of Mauritius, Diego Garcia, the Atlantis Bank, and the newly formed MOHO Island.
Mads angrily stuck the satellite image of the eruption to the board, then the USGS report on the Cascadia earthquake in Washington. The piercing scream from the video echoed in the office as she added the Libi Nati and then stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest while staring thoughtfully at it all.
Yes, she had a lot of work to do.
Chapter 14
JESS
Amazon Jungle near Kumalu, Suriname
Northeast interior of South America
A wave of color undulated above the canopy of the Amazon jungle; a dance of movement orchestrated by some unseen hand. It was a masterpiece of motion and timing, a rhythm so pure you could hear it beating through the wings of the thousands united as one entity.
Jess sat watching, mesmerized, from the back porch. A forgotten peanut butter and jelly sandwich was pressed between her hands. She hadn’t really been hungry in the first place, but eating was the only normal thing she could think to do. However, it would seem that if she were seeking a safe refuge to eat her perfectly average meal, she should have gone back to her room.
The silence was what made the hairs rise on her arms and neck. Jess thought they were parrots. Blue-cheeked Amazons, to be precise. The common green variety you’d often find for sale in pet shops in the states. They were noisy little buggers who always let you know when they were around, and especially if they weren’t happy about something. The eerie silence aside from the beating of wings made Jess feel like she was watching something she shouldn’t be. And by not looking away, she was then a part of it and it felt wrong.
Except curiosity was something she’d learned from her dad, and Jess had never seen anything quite like it. Two summers before, she’d gone with her dad on a trip to another Lokono village. They saw a huge swarm of bats surge out of a cave near sunset. Her father explained murmuration as they’d watched the bats, though it was normally seen with starlings, and sometimes crows. But Amazon parrots?
Jess dropped her sandwich onto her paper plate and leaned back in the chair, continuing to study the display as the birds slowly disappeared beyond the tree line. There wasn’t time to go get her dad from his office. He’d be deep into a heated conversation with Kofi by then, anyway. As soon as they’d started talking politics and how the various governments would respond to their disasters, Jess had offered to walk Akuba to the front gates. It took ten minutes if you went at a leisurely pace and she always found the familiar surroundings relaxing.
The plantation wasn’t nearly as big as it used to be. It still spanned several hundred acres, with around ten cleared acres surrounding the main structures. Even though sugar cane hadn’t been intentionally grown there for decades, it grew wild throughout the property. Her dad attempted to make the plantation self-sustaining early on, according to Akuba. There were three gardens, an orchard, chickens, goats, and two separate wells, but they still relied on local stores for some of their food.
Both the house and what used to be the mill were remodeled long before Jess was ever born. Based on the old photos hanging in the front hall, they kept the same designs from the 1800’s. The mill was turned into housing for the plantation’s current two caretakers and three scientists who worked for her father.
The researchers left the week before, for the summer. One of them would return for another year in the fall, while the others would be replaced with what her dad called “fresh recruits”. Jess always looked forward to the new arrivals, hoping they would bring families with them and kids around her age. It had happened only once before. It took exactly two weeks before they packed up and left. Her father never did tell her why.
“Jessy! Jessy! Did you see the birds?” a shrill voice interrupted Jess’s thoughts, and she flinched.
Raising a hand to shield the sun from her face, Jess confirmed Ashok was running across the wide expanse of grass toward her. She sighed. The ten-year-old boy was the son of their property manager. He handled everything from keeping the jungle at bay, to paying the taxes. The family had their own house at the back of the cleared property, near the mill, and the young boy had made it his goal in life to torment Jess.
The two had basically grown up together and he was like a little brother to Jess, complete with every possible annoying thing a brother could do. He refused to even get her nickname right, something that drove her batty.
“Yeah, Ash. I saw the birds. Where’s your dad?”
“With Uncle, and Dr. Davies,” Ashok answered, rolling his eyes.
His dad was Kofi’s younger brother. Vacationers called him a “local”, though Mr. Van der Bosch was just as educated as Kofi, and had a business degree. That was what Jess’s dad told her when she’d asked once, years ago, after hearing someone at the pools refer to him as a “hired hand”. Her father was very sensitive to not only paying his local employees good wages, but also showing them the respect they deserved. The plantation was originally owned by the Dutch and run by slave labor. As hard as he tried, people still assumed the indigenous people employed there were somehow of lower class.
Nothing was further from the truth. Akuba was treated as a part of the family. The generous income she’d gotten over the years paid for her two younger sisters to go to school. In Suriname, after primary grades, the kids had two options: stay in their village and continue to live off the land which usually meant either farming or mining, or be sent to the capital city and be boarded at the only school. Most couldn’t afford the boarding fees, let alone private tutors, which is what Jess’s father did for Akuba over the years she’d been with them.
Ash and his parents were also like extended family and had dinner with them in the main house at least once a week. Jess called them Mr. and Mrs. Van, for short. Growing up and seeing Akuba, Mr. Van, and the other plantation employees as her own “tribe”, Jess had never understood the division she sometimes heard and saw at the resort.
“Why aren’t you with Akuba, cleaning the Libi Nati?” Ashok asked, sounding proud to have caught her apparently slacking. He picked up a stick and started poking at a young boa constrictor making its way through the grass.
“What?” Jess retorted, thrown off by what she considered a totally stupid question. Of course, her dad wasn’t going to let her anywhere near the hot springs until he’d personally studied them and decided it was safe. Ash was right that she would normally be spending the afternoon at the pools with Akuba and several other women. They would walk along the edges and retrieve the coins tourists had thrown in. Even though there were signs posted everywhere advising them not to, people still treated them like wishing wells. Her father had explained once how the high acidity of the water quickly corroded the metal, which then damaged the fragile ecosystem in the pools. Plus, the tribe got to keep the money, which added up to a decent amount over time.
“Leave that snake alone!” Jess scolded. Ash ignored her and continued chasing the boa. “Otherwise, it’s going to come back after it’s all grown up and swallow you whole in your sleep.” She laughed at the young boy’s expression as he froze in his tracks and tossed the stick aside.
“You’re a liar,” he pouted, embarrassed. Crossing his arms and pouting, Ash narrowed his eyes at J
ess. “I’m gonna tell your dad you aren’t helping Akuba.”
“What rock are you living under?” Jess almost said something about the steam explosion and everything else going wrong in the world, before she realized his parents hadn’t told him because they didn’t want to scare him. Ash already suffered from nightmares, and it didn’t take much. While Jess felt bad for him, she couldn’t stand the thought of having to put up with him and his constant questions all day long.
“They didn’t need me today,” she fibbed. Well, it wasn’t really a lie. “Why don’t you go figure out where those birds went?”
Ash’s frown quickly turned to a smile and his face lit up. “Like a treasure hunt!” He was already running away from her and across the yard, toward the thick line of trees that marked the edge of the always-encroaching wilderness.
Jess watched his small form for a full minute before her conscience finally kicked in and she begrudgingly chased after him. The idiot was really going to run into the jungle after the birds, and probably end up getting lost or eaten by something. Jess might find Ash irritating, but she didn’t mean for him to literally try and follow the birds. She was surprised he’d survived as long as he had. The kid had no common sense. “Ash!” Jess hollered. “Wait up.”
The young boy stopped, still a good ten yards from the nearest banana trees. “You comin?”
Jess hesitated. With everything that had happened, she knew her father would want them staying close to the house. “You know better than to go into the jungle by yourself,” she said sternly. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” The words were harsher than she’d meant, and were a reflection of her own anxiety. Jess immediately regretted it as she watched Ash’s face screw up. She did the only thing she could think of.
“Here!” Shoving her remaining peanut-butter and jelly sandwich at him, Jess attempted a smile. “What I meant to say, was that I saw a coral snake out on the trail earlier, so we’d better stick around here.” Ash took a slow bite of the sandwich while still staring accusingly at Jess. She shifted from foot to foot and glanced back at the house and then toward the mill. His mom or dad would be checking on him soon, and Jess really didn’t want to have to suffer through another lecture that afternoon. Ash had a way of being overly dramatic, and in spite of all the times she’d proven him to be exaggerating, he still managed to be very accomplished at getting her into trouble. She had no doubt he’d be able to convince her dad how she’d tried to send him out into the wilds of the jungle to never be seen again. Jess immediately jumped to the one thing guaranteed to make him happy.