by Chris Angus
“Sounds like your typical god to me,” said Ryan. “Full of contradictions. Many religions tell us that God loves us, even created us in his image. But then we’re presented with a perfect conundrum—we’re given free will, so we can reject him if we want. Thus God, who supposedly loves us, is perfectly willing to let us suffer and die and go to Hell. He’s the one who creates the parameters. We can believe in him and receive paradise or we can reject him and go to Hell—at least in the traditional Catholic tradition. It’s up to us, except we only have two choices, the two he is willing to give us. That’s some kind of tough love, all right.”
He looked at Kraus. “What I think, if God actually exists at all, is that he’s simply lost interest in his creation. How can he allow us to suffer such torment if he loves us? That’s no definition of love that I accept. I understand you are a religious man. I bet I can guess what your response to all this will be.”
Kraus raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”
“You’ll say that we have to accept what God does on faith. We can’t understand his higher purpose. Well, that’s a cop-out in my opinion. Because you can’t explain why God has abandoned us, you fall back on, ‘Oh, well, we really can’t understand him.’”
“But that’s true,” said Kraus.
“Bullshit,” said Ryan. “What’s true is what Amma said. Laki doesn’t care what we do. He just wants to be left alone. Laki wants to be left alone so much he makes us paranoid to try to get us to go away. If he created us, it was an afterthought. Probably one he now regrets.”
“God gives us free will so we can be more like him,” said Kraus. “So we’re not mere automatons, figures of clay that have to do what he says. We can make our own decisions.”
“Maybe so,” said Ryan. “But if that’s the case, why didn’t he give us a little more strength of character before setting us loose? He made us, after all. He could do whatever he wanted. But he deliberately made us imperfect. And that’s being generous. If you look at all the horrors of human frailty on exhibit in the world, an argument can be made that he didn’t just make us imperfect, he made us weak and vacillating and self-absorbed and cruel . . . the list goes on. Why couldn’t he have made us better to begin with?”
“There is evil in the world,” said Kraus. “God must deal with the devil.”
“Oh, give me a break,” Ryan waved his hand at Kraus. “You religious types always have some way to excuse the evils of the world. If God isn’t stronger than the devil, then he’s not really God, is he?”
“Well I for one don’t believe in God,” said Jon. “This horrible place is proof, as far as I’m concerned, that there is no God, period. And this conversation isn’t getting us out of here. Will someone, please, for Christ’s sake, talk about that!”
Sam stood up. “Jon’s right. We can debate all this later in the comfort of our living rooms. Provided we live so long.” She stared up at the light filtering down from above. “I think I see a way out of here. It won’t be easy, but we can do it. Let’s not waste any more time.”
***
It took two long hours to clamber out of the cavern. They emerged to find a world gone haywire. They were below the far western rim of Laki, an area where Sam had spent little time, perhaps a three-hour hike back to the parking lot.
They gaped at the surrounding landscape. The surface of Laki resembled something out of Dante’s Hell. The sky was black with boiling clouds that raced across the firmament. Mini-tornados seemed to be everywhere, forming instantly, raising black spirals of dust and loose rock, only to collide with one another and collapse.
One of these appeared ready to descend on them. There was no way to outrun the phenomenon. They looked around wildly for shelter. Then the storm collided with another and both dissipated, leaving them covering their heads as rocks and dust fell on them.
“Look at those lava flows,” said Ryan. “There must be half a dozen of them. We’re going to have our work cut out finding a path through them.”
Even as he spoke, the ground a hundred yards away heaved and split open and a new flow emerged. The liquid rock began to pour toward them.
“Come on,” he said. “Time to get the hell out of Dodge.”
“More like time to get the hell out of Hell,” said Sam, contemplating their fiery surroundings.
Their path across the tortured surface of Laki might have been an exercise in avoidance training. It seemed every avenue they took led to another obstacle. They followed a circuitous route that took them much longer than they’d expected. When at last they saw the parking lot, the little group gave out a small cheer.
Jon raced ahead, crying out as figures began to emerge from the two buses, their faces incredulous that anyone could have survived and emerged from beneath Laki.
Ryan and Sam made their way up to Professor Hauptmann, who beamed at them.
“I had given up all hope for you,” he said. He gave Sam a bear hug and grasped Ryan by the shoulder.
“But why are you still here?” asked Sam. “This whole place could collapse into a great cauldron of lava. It’s beyond dangerous.”
Hauptmann nodded. “Believe me, the thought has crossed all of our minds. Let me introduce you to Mr. Prescott Carlisle. He works for the President of the United States and has come here with all this marvelous equipment to try to help.”
Incredulity in his voice, Carlisle said to Ryan, “I remember you. I met you once when you worked for our previous President. Glad to see you made it out safely.” He nodded to Graham. “Senator. Glad you’re safe too, though I think the President may have some questions as to why you are here.”
Graham simply stared blankly at the distorted landscape. With the loss of his dream of extended life, at least in any credible form, his political career appeared to hold little interest for him anymore. He was still very much in a state of shock over their experiences.
“Perhaps,” Carlisle continued, “You can tell us something about conditions underground. We have reams of technical data but no first-hand information.”
Sam related what they’d encountered beneath Laki. She left nothing out. When she was finished, Hauptmann stared at her with wide eyes.
“Amma exists?” he asked in an awed whisper. “The sagas are true.” He seemed overwhelmed by the news.
In turn, Carlisle filled them in on what was happening not only on Laki but also around the world.
It was Sam’s turn to be incredulous. “Volcanoes all over the globe are erupting?” she asked, unable to get her mind around the unimaginable concept.
“Yes,” Carlisle said. “And what’s worse, religious leaders appear to believe that it’s because of Laki that something spiritual is happening here.” He spread his hands. “It’s hard to fathom what may be going on in their heads. The President is at a loss over how to react.”
“Join the club,” said Ryan.
“One more thing we haven’t told you.” The President’s advisor met their eyes with his own hard, blue orbs. “An Arab by the name of Rashid may have planted a nuclear device beneath the surface with the goal of completely destabilizing Laki.”
It was the first time Sam, Kraus, and Jon had heard this. But it was hardly news to Ryan. “I know,” he said. “Akbari told me, and the senator also knows. They were concerned about what it might do to their longevity investigations and were desperate to stop him.”
“You might as well come inside,” said Carlisle. “I want to hear first-hand what you think is going on here. And perhaps we can tell you a thing or two.”
They crowded into his tiny office, spilling out beyond the partition that separated it from the rest of the bus. Carlisle gave his chair to Sam and stood in front of a bank of computers.
“So,” he began, “Do any of you have an opinion on Laki? Is it some sort of natural phenomenon or does the religious community have a leg to stand on? I told the President I’d get back to him with something for him to feed the holy rollers and frankly, I could use some input.”
/> Ryan shook his head slowly. “When I stared down into that . . . whatever it was . . . hole at the center of the Earth, I had no idea what I was looking at. It was like staring into a miniature universe. One that seemed to suck the light and energy out of the tentacles and anything else that got too close—including poor Akbari.” He looked at Sam. “And what were those stars?”
She stared at the floor as though she might see right through the bottom of the bus. “Before I talked with Amma, I would have said it was some sort of natural phenomenon, a magma chamber maybe. But we actually met and conversed, if you can call it that, with a human being who has lived for over a thousand years. There’s no question what Amma thinks Laki is. A god, pure and simple.”
Carlisle said, “According to our measurements, Laki has an enormous magma chamber deep in the Earth. You could have been looking into that. The stars you mention might have simply been hot spots. Or . . .”
“Or what?” Ryan asked.
Carlisle looked uncomfortable. “You could have been seeing electrons spinning off from Kaluza-Klein particles in another dimension.”
The silence in the tiny space was heavy. Kraus was the first to speak. “Another dimension,” he said, almost to himself. “I guess that could be one definition of God.”
One of the technicians peered around the partition and said, “We got a real good fix on the Pu-239, sir. Uh . . . and you might want to come outside and talk to the military staff. They picked up two men who were coming out of a venthole.”
“Who are they?”
“Don’t know, sir, but they appear to be foreign nationals . . . and they’re pretty nervous about something.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Outside, half a dozen soldiers kept an eye on two distraught-looking men. To Ryan’s eye, they were obviously of Arab descent and he realized with a start that the older man was probably the one Akbari had called Rashid.
He went over to the officer in charge.
“Where did you find them?” he asked.
“We were doing a perimeter check,” said the sergeant. “We do one every hour, looking for new lava flows or other disturbances, trying to determine if the road’s in danger of being cut off. These two,” he gestured at the men with his thumb, “came barreling out of a venthole like they were being chased by demons from hell. When they saw us, they took off down toward the parking lot. We didn’t know who they were, but they were sure acting suspiciously. So we went after them, and . . . here they are. Haven’t said much, except to repeat that we have no right to detain them.”
“Mind if I talk to them?”
“Be my guest. The older one speaks English well enough. The other one hasn’t said a word, just looks at his comrade and keeps checking his watch.”
Ryan went over to the figure he believed was Rashid. The man sat on a rock. He was clearly agitated, his dark eyes darting about the wild landscape. When he saw Ryan, he stood up.
“You can’t keep us here,” he said. “This place is too dangerous. We’re just civilians. Tourists who got lost. As foreign nationals we demand to be taken to our embassy in Reykjavik at once.”
Ryan stared at him. “I know who you are,” he said. “Your name is Rashid and you’ve been attempting to blow Laki up with a nuclear weapon.”
The Arab’s face registered a combination of surprise, fear, resentment, and superiority all at once. He glanced around. There was no one within earshot. In a low voice, he said, “Take us out of here and I will pay you one million dollars.”
Ryan ignored the offer. “How much time do we have?” he asked.
The Arab started to plead ignorance to the question, then thought better of it. He looked at his watch. “In less than three hours, this entire place will be vaporized. Laki will erupt in a massive explosion. All southern Iceland will become a radioactive wasteland. Believe me, you don’t want to be here when that happens anymore than I do.”
“You’re going to take me to where you left the device,” Ryan said.
“Are you mad?” asked Rashid. “We were lost down there, wandering from venthole to venthole. I couldn’t find it again if I wanted to. Even if I could, it would make no difference. The device can’t be disarmed once the timer’s been set.”
Ryan stared at him for another moment, then turned and said to the sergeant, “Keep an eye on them. Under no circumstances are they to be allowed to leave here.”
Then he turned abruptly and went back to the bus.
Carlisle, Sam, and Hauptmann were consulting in Carlisle’s tiny office, staring at a sheaf of computer readouts. Sam looked up as Ryan came in. “They’ve got a fix on the nuclear device, tracing the plutonium. It’s in a deep venthole, and it looks like a new opening has occurred just in the last hour that may give us a more direct route to it—with the small proviso that it’s not already filled with lava,” She said. She grabbed his arm. “We’ve got to go get it.”
He took a deep breath. “One of the men brought in by the military people is called Rashid. He’s the one behind the nuclear device and he says it can’t be disarmed. That there’s no way to stop it.”
They all stared at him. “Do you believe him?” Sam asked.
“I believe he’s scared as hell. Offered me a million bucks to get him out of here, for Christ’s sake. He understands he’s not going anywhere. His only chance to survive is to disarm the device. If he’s not even willing to try, it probably means it can’t be done.”
“Jesus!” said Sam. “How much time do we have?”
“Less than three hours.”
“What are we going to do?”
“I don’t think there’s any way we could get clear of a major blast in the time we have left. The roads are poor and the disruptions, earthquakes, and lava flows would slow us even more.”
“What about calling in helicopters?”
“Atmospheric conditions make communications with the outside iffy at best. And these crazy thermals and tornados would be nearly suicidal for aircraft. Anyway, I heard Akbari offer a million dollars to his pilot if he came back for him. I haven’t seen any sign of the man. He’s probably too scared to come back. Besides, we’d need a fleet of choppers to take everyone out. There are at least fifty people here on Laki.”
“So you’re saying . . . there’s nothing we can do?”
“Our only hope is to find the device and try to disarm it. Maybe Rashid is lying or wrong about that. I don’t see any alternative.”
***
Cardinal Wormer fidgeted nervously. He’d never had a private audience with the Pope before. Indeed, he’d met the pontiff only as part of a group of cardinals. To be summoned as he was for a meeting at the Vatican would normally have been the greatest honor of his life—one that he would have endeavored to manipulate to his own best interests in whatever way possible.
But he knew he wasn’t here to have coffee and a theological chat. The entire world was in an uproar over what was going on in Iceland and over the outbreak of convulsions in volcanoes everywhere. Vesuvius itself was just over a hundred miles away and had been belching steam for days. Still, he believed this could be his moment. Somehow, the Pope knew of his connection with Laki and was seeking his advice. It was perfect.
A young priest in a plain, black robe approached and nodded to him. “His Holiness will see you now,” he said.
The pontiff stood before the open balcony that looked out on St. Peter’s Square. He looked much older than Wormer remembered. Rumors of his declining health were evidently correct. This, too, did not displease the Cardinal. Only when Popes died did real upward movement occur in the Vatican hierarchy.
Standing next to the pontiff was the papal Secretariat, Demetrio Ricci. Ricci’s position was one that Wormer had long considered appropriate for himself. It would place him at the seat of power.
Dark-skinned with a beak nose and pockmarked face, Ricci was known to be a no-nonsense hardliner. His presence was proof, if any were needed, that this was not a social call.
Wormer knelt before the pontiff and kissed his ring, then rose at the Pope’s uplifted hand. “Come here, my Cardinal,” he said, gesturing to the window.
Wormer moved forward, puzzled.
“Tell me, what do you see?”
He stared out the window. “Your Holiness, I see the great square of St. Peter and . . . uh . . . many of your subjects. I . . . that is all.”
“Raise your sights, Cardinal,” said the pontiff. “On the horizon, even at such a great distance, you can see clouds of steam rising from Vesuvius. My advisors tell us that a full eruption may be imminent. We are aware of the activities of your . . . organization . . . that has for decades concerned itself with a certain volcano in Iceland. Surely you didn’t think your group was unknown to us?”
Wormer swallowed heavily. He’d long suspected as much and wondered momentarily which of his group had been a spy for the Vatican. Members swore an oath to tell no one of their activities. But he was well aware that no one could renege on an oath more quickly than a high member of the church. There were many ways to receive dispensation for breaking an oath. Reporting directly to the pontiff was one of those ways.
“Your Holiness, I’m honored by your interest. For sixty years, our members have studied the unusual case of Laki. Until recently, there has been little to report. A fascinating history, to be sure, dating from the time of the Vikings and including the efforts of the Nazis, as well. But for the most part, our meetings are typically theological in nature, along the lines of how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. I would not have bothered Your Holiness with such trivia.”
“Trivia,” said the Pope. He stared out at the clouded horizon and shook his head. He looked tired and old.
