Vapor

by David Meyer

  “Except for Eco-Trek employees,” Beverly said.

  “I was referring to the locals,” he replied. “After the 1981 eruption, the islanders were evacuated to Saipan. A group of them—they call themselves Pagan Nation—has been trying to return for years. But the authorities won’t let them. Too dangerous, I suppose.”

  “If that’s the case, why’d they allow Eco-Trek to build a research station on the island?”

  “Beats the hell out of me. But from what I hear, the locals had no say in the matter. It was a federal decision.”

  “When’d you last come here?” I asked.

  “Honestly, I don’t remember.” Stevens shrugged. “Saipan gets its fair share of tourists, but most people want quick helicopter tours. They don’t want to spend all day flying over the ocean.”

  Looking out my window, I stared over the waters. They appeared dark, forbidden. We were a long way from Saipan. Hell, we were a long way from pretty much anywhere.

  From Jerusalem, we’d flown to Saipan. At roughly forty-four and a half square miles, it was the largest and most populated of the Northern Mariana Islands. After some searching, we’d met Stevens. He’d agreed to fly us some two hundred miles to Pagan—no questions asked—in exchange for a large sum of cash.

  Now, we hovered in the air, high above the ocean. The two closest islands to Pagan, Alamagan and Agrihan, were each about forty miles away. Since they were also uninhabited, we—along with Eco-Trek’s employees—were the only people around for miles.

  “I see it.” Shock filled Beverly’s voice. “It’s … it’s …”

  “It’s ugly as hell,” Graham said.

  A sharp breeze struck the helicopter. The chopper twisted in mid-air. Looking out my window, I saw a landmass. It was definitely the island depicted in the satellite images. It possessed the same rolling hills, the same steep cliffs. But Graham was right.

  It was ugly as hell.

  Leafless forests took up much of the island. Even from a distance, I could see the denuded tree trunks were thin and sickly. The grass, what little of it remained, was colored brown. Patches of plants, also brown, were sparse in number. Clearly, death and dirt had taken over the once-fertile island.

  “Holy crap.” Stevens blinked. “What happened?”

  “A drought,” Beverly said. “A severe one.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “We’re sure,” I replied. “Take us close to shore. We’ll deploy our raft and make the jump. Then you can fly back to Saipan.”

  “How will you get home?”

  Graham grinned. “Don’t worry about us.”

  I studied the island. It looked a little like a barbell. A large building rested on the northeastern half. An airstrip led away from it, crossing the thin strip of land toward the southwestern half.

  A thin road circled the building. At the back, it veered northwest toward an area known as Pagan Bay. Several large boats filled the bay.

  “Aircraft,” a soft, feminine voice buzzed from the helicopter’s radio. “This is Eco-Trek Research Station. You’ve entered restricted airspace. Please identify yourself. Over.”

  “Crap.” Stevens gave me a nervous look. “What should I say?”

  I racked my brain. “Tell her you’re leading a sight-seeing tour to Agrihan. Your instruments malfunctioned and you flew off-course. Tell her you need to land in order to fix them.”

  “What if she doesn’t believe me?”

  “She will. Just stick to the story.”

  Stevens pressed a button on the dashboard. “Eco-Trek, this is Boomerang Eighty-Eight,” he said in a hurried tone. “Requesting permission to land. Over.”

  While we waited for the woman to reply, I looked at Graham and Beverly. “While Milt works on the instruments, we’ll sneak into the research station. We’ll mix in, get lost in the crowd.”

  “How are we going to find the reliquary?” Beverly asked.

  “It won’t be hard. The station is a glorified airport hangar. I bet it’s wide open on the inside.”

  “Don’t be too sure about that.” Graham pointed at the northeastern end of the station. “That looks like a loading bay.”

  “So what?”

  “So, an airport hangar doesn’t need a separate loading bay. In other words, that building is more than just a hangar. There might be offices, rooms, even laboratories.”

  “Permission denied.” The feminine voice crackled over the radio. “Please exit this airspace immediately. Over.”

  “We’re experiencing instrumental failures,” Stevens replied. “Must land now. Over.”

  A few seconds passed. “Negative, Boomerang Eighty-Eight. Eco-Trek is a high-security facility. Absolutely no one is allowed on the premises. Reroute and shoot for Alamagan. Over.”

  Stevens frowned. “Now, see here—”

  Static erupted from the radio.

  “That little jerk.” Stevens exhaled deeply. “Well, I guess that settles it. I’ll just swing—”

  “Hold it,” I said.

  Stevens gave me a look. “You heard the lady. That’s a high security facility down there. We can’t land.”

  “It’s a research station. What’s the worst they can do to us?”

  Stevens relaxed his hands. The helicopter hovered for a few seconds while he mulled over my words.

  Dark clouds appeared overhead. The wind started to rush. A bolt of lightning shot across the sky. Others soon followed it. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  Rain started to fall, slapping the helicopter’s metallic sides. Peering out the front window, I watched the life-giving raindrops head for Pagan. But curiously enough, the soil and brown vegetation remained dry.

  “What the hell?” Graham muttered under his breath. “The water … it’s not hitting the ground.”

  “The air must be too dry,” Beverly whispered. “It’s absorbing the rain, turning it into vapor.”

  I leaned forward. “Does anyone see that?”

  A shadowy figure crested over a hill, roughly halfway between the station and the northeastern volcano.

  “It looks like …” Graham frowned. “Hell, I don’t know what that is.”

  Another bolt of lightning appeared. It seemed to materialize from the island itself, before stretching through the air.

  I squinted. “Is that lightning?”

  “I don’t think so.” Beverly leaned forward. “I think that’s … oh, my God … look out!”

  Stevens yanked the cyclic stick. The helicopter jerked to the west.

  A loud bang filled my ears. I felt an enormous jolt. A large cloud of black smoke appeared. Then a white light blazed through the smoke.

  I held my breath. So did everyone else. The helicopter hovered for another second.

  And then it started to fall.

  Chapter 33

  The helicopter swerved and started to circle the ocean. Clenching my jaw, I fought off a wave of dizziness.

  Stevens maneuvered the stick. The helicopter slipped out of the spiraling motion and shot north across the island. But it continued to fall at a fast clip.

  They’ve got missiles?

  I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, it was a high security facility. Still, why did a weather research station need missiles? What other defensive technologies did Eco-Trek possess?

  “Brace yourselves.” Stevens fought the controls. “This is going to—”

  My body jolted again as the helicopter struck water. My chest slammed against the seatbelt. My teeth chattered.

  Blades chopped at the ocean and snapped into pieces. Metal chunks shot in all directions.

  With a loud groan, I unbuckled my seatbelt. My chest hurt. My legs ached. My brain felt fuzzy. “Everyone okay?”

  “Oh yeah.” Graham rubbed a dark mark on his forehead. “Just great.”

  I looked outside. Dark ocean waters surrounded us. Waves swept in our direction with ever-increasing ferocity.

  I glanced over my shoulder. The rear right
side of the chopper had been torn away. There was no sign of our inflatable raft or our gear.

  “How’s the radio?” I called out.

  A sharp wave struck the chopper. Stevens reached to the dashboard and began fiddling with the controls. “Broken,” he said. “If I had a little time, I could probably—”

  “Forget it. We’ve got to swim for shore.”

  I stood up. More waves rocked the cabin and it took me a moment to get my sea legs. Grabbing my satchel and machete, I approached the door.

  Swiftly, I removed my boots. As I tied them to my satchel, the chopper shifted beneath me, sliding another few inches into the dark, swirling water.

  Beverly followed me to the door. Peering outside, she sighted the island. “We’re at least a mile away. The water’s probably ice cold.”

  I gave her a half-smile. “Scared?”

  “Hardly.” She tied her hair into a bun. “Care to make this interesting?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “Bottle of Hamron’s to the winner.”

  “Are you sure you can afford that?”

  “I won’t have to.”

  I pushed the latch and threw my shoulder against the door. It opened a couple of inches. Salt water rushed into the cabin. It felt like ice against my sock-covered feet.

  I pushed again. The door opened a few more inches. Another rush of water splashed into the cabin. It quickly rose above my thighs.

  Beverly joined me for a third push. The door groaned open.

  Taking a deep breath, Graham dove into the water. Stevens was next. He climbed out of the cockpit and leapt into the ocean. Using powerful strokes, the two men swam toward the island.

  With a casual dive, Beverly hit the water. Her stroke was strong and graceful. She quickly passed Stevens and caught up to Graham.

  I took one last look at the island. Questions abounded inside my head. What was Eco-Trek really doing on Pagan? And what did it have to do with the reliquary?

  The chopper sank faster into the swirling water. I took a few deep breaths, filling my lungs. As I dove into the ocean, I realized only one thing was certain. There was more to Eco-Trek than met the eye.

  Lots more.

  Chapter 34

  A distant hissing noise, like water sizzling on hot metal, filled my ears. Pausing mid-stroke, I looked toward the island. A dark shadow, the one I’d seen from above, flitted across the mountainous landscape. It walked on four legs, moving with an odd sort of jerky precision.

  Even on all fours it looked as tall as a person. From my research, I knew cows, pigs, and goats, all descendants of former livestock, lived on Pagan. But this creature was far too big to be any of them.

  So, what the hell are you?

  Lightning flashed across the dark sky. I blinked.

  The strange creature was gone.

  I resumed swimming. My knees started to wobble. My arms grew sore. The water felt cold against my skin.

  A gust of wind careened against me. The current roiled. I felt myself pushed northeast, away from the island. Battling the elements was the surest way to death. But I couldn’t let them control my fate either. So, I compromised by fighting my way south while allowing nature to shift me in an easterly course.

  Ahead, I saw an elevated shore, resting on ten feet of boulders. The surf pounded against the rock, creating large amounts of foam.

  I heard some splashes. My gaze shot to the east.

  A fin rose out of the water.

  Heart pounding, I picked up speed. My legs kicked harder. My arms churned, keeping pace with my lower half.

  As I passed Stevens, I gave him a hand signal. He glanced east, toward the fin. His jaw set. He began to swim faster.

  Kicking my legs, I caught up with Graham and Beverly. Beverly flashed me a sly smile. I could tell she was taking it easy, saving her strength for the final stretch. It was a good strategy.

  Unfortunately, our race had a new entrant.

  “Shark,” I said between strokes. “Over there.”

  They lifted their heads. Their eyes grew wide at the same time. Then they began to stroke faster.

  Glancing east, I caught sight of four separate fins. Three of them stayed in a tight area. The fourth one grew larger as it headed toward us.

  I pushed harder. The current picked up speed, shifting me toward the sharks. The nearest one drew within twenty feet.

  I swam even faster. If the shark had wanted to attack us, it could’ve done so by now. Most likely, it was still sizing us up, trying to identify us.

  Trying to figure out if we’d make tasty prey.

  I reached the boulders. Waves pounded against me, slamming me into the rocks. Shrugging off the blows, I gripped a pair of outcroppings. My shoulders strained as I pulled myself upward. My feet found footholds and I reached up again, gripping more outcroppings.

  Beverly reached the rocks and climbed up a few feet. She stretched a hand to Graham. He grasped it and she pulled him to a handhold. He grabbed hold of it and clambered, artificial leg and all, to safety.

  I helped Stevens onto the boulders. After a short climb, we reached a flat, dirt-covered platform. Lungs heaving, I sprawled on top of it. The shark swam below us, about ten feet from the rocks. I couldn’t see its body in the dark water. But its shadow indicated a length of roughly twelve feet.

  “Damn.” Graham inhaled a long breath. “That was close.”

  Stevens sank to the ground. “What were they?”

  “Tiger sharks?” I shrugged. “Honestly, I didn’t get a good look at them.”

  We rested for a few minutes. Then I took off my socks and rung out the water. I donned them again along with my boots.

  “I just realized something,” Beverly said.

  I glanced at her. “What?”

  She smirked. “I won the race.”

  “Wait, just a—”

  “Quiet.” Graham held up a hand. “Does anyone hear that?”

  Stevens cocked his head. “It’s coming from the west.”

  I heard a whirring noise. I grabbed my goggles from my satchel and quickly donned them. “Okay, I see a small raft. It’s equipped with an outboard motor.” I adjusted the magnification. In the distance, I saw a tiny craft shoot across the waves. “It’s heading this way.”

  “Get down.” Beverly flattened herself against the dirt.

  With my eyes locked on the raft, I lowered myself to the ground. It smelled of salt and dead grass.

  The engine ceased. The raft slowed to a crawl. A spotlight appeared on the bow, illuminating the rocky water. The raft shifted in a complete circle, tracing the waves. Then the engine started again. Slowly, the raft puttered forward.

  A man knelt in the middle of the raft. He directed its movements as well as those of the spotlight. A breathing apparatus, hooked up to a diver’s tank, covered his face. Even so, I still recognized him. “It’s him,” I said. “The Polynesian guy from Israel.”

  Graham exhaled. “Well, at least we know we’re in the right place.”

  My jaw tightened. “They’re searching for survivors.”

  “Then we should make sure they don’t find any.” Twisting toward the south, Graham snaked past a couple of boulders.

  We followed him behind the rocks. “Does anyone have a satphone?” Beverly asked. “Mine’s gone.”

  I shook my head.

  “Lost my phone while swimming,” Stevens said.

  Beverly looked at Graham. “How about you?”

  “Bottom of the ocean,” he replied.

  “At least we’re alive.” Stevens exhaled. “Things could be worse.”

  Air rushed. A high-pitched shrieking noise, like nails on a chalkboard, filled the forest.

  I turned west. A drone, exactly like the one from Israel, shot past the volcano. It was close, maybe a few hundred feet above ground level and a thousand feet from our position. Moments later, I saw dozens of twisting pillars of smoke.

  Chemtrails.

  “Things just got wo
rse,” I said. “Much worse.”

  Chapter 35

  My feet stayed rooted to the ground as I watched the drone zip across the ocean. Moments later, it began a banking maneuver.

  Beverly squinted at the sky. “Looks like it’s coming back again.”

  It’s flying a crossing pattern.

  The drone had flown northeast, showering the western side of the volcano with chemtrails. Now, it was heading southeast, preparing to cover the volcano’s eastern side. It was an efficient and neat way to saturate the area with chemtrails.

  It was also deadly as hell.

  I studied the chemtrails, their position in the sky. I studied their movements and how the wind affected them. “Follow me.”

  Unsheathing my machete, I chopped my way through a mess of dead vines. Then I ran south, straight toward the volcano.

  The horrible shrieking noise returned. It grew louder and louder.

  I crossed hills, leapt over rocks, and dodged trees. The shrieking noise turned skull-piercing. Gritting my teeth, I watched the drone zoom past the volcano.

  I didn’t know who was directly controlling it. Nor did I care. Almost certainly, the pilot was following orders. And those orders most likely came from Simona Wolcott or one of her underlings.

  Grayish chemtrails snaked downward, shooting deadly tentacles of smoke in all directions. We couldn’t hide from them. Nor could we dodge or outrun them.

  But we can outmaneuver them.

  I veered southwest. Pouring on the speed, I charged up a hill. The plane had flown steeply angled routes along both sides of the volcano. The main goal was probably to target the ocean as well as the shoreline. But that didn’t cover everything. The flight pattern left the volcano’s backside completely untouched.

  I kept an eye out for the drone, but it didn’t return. The landscape turned rocky and increasingly vertical. Undeterred, I scrambled over a tall boulder, using ridges, cracks, clefts, and small peaks as hand and footholds. Reaching back, I helped Stevens onto the boulder. Then I lowered my hand to Graham.