Chapter 10: The Killing Ash
Summary:
Virgil and Alan join the fight.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
They were flying into dusk, a dirty one full of snow as they approached land, so Umnak stayed obscured until they dropped under the clouds and saw the distinct volcanic shape that dominated the southwestern part of the island.
"Is that a volcano?" Virgil tried to keep his voice from a querulous rising. "A volcano with steam coming out the top?"
"Uh, yeah. Don't worry." Alan looked down at the screen in front of him. "It's Mount Vsevidof. It's an active stratovolcano that – "
"Active?" And yeah, okay, that time his voice did go up an octave. "What the hell?"
"- that hasn't erupted since 2022. And before that it was 1957. It's fine, Virgil, really. Penelope says her friends take people on tours right down into the caldera."
"So that steam coming out the top there – "
"Is just Mount Vsevidof doing its thing."
Barely mollified, because Virgil's attitude towards all things volcanic at this point was borderline hostile, he turned his attention to locating the airfield.
"Nikolski Airport directly ahead," Alan said. Beside him the Russian man leaned forward, scanning their place of possible salvation with eyes that spoke of cynicism and worry.
"What about the other one?" Virgil indicated with his head to where another large snow-covered volcano loomed across much of the northern part of Umnak.
"Oh, that's Okmok. Great name, huh?" Alan's tone was suspiciously light, so Virgil sent him a side eye, purely out of reflex.
"And that's active too?"
"Uh – yeah." A mumble, and Virgil snapped, "Say again?"
"Last erupted in 2053. But you know, that's good. That means it probably won't need to vent for a long time."
"Which suggests this other one could go any minute?"
"No, that's – that's not how they work."
By this time Virgil had swung Two around to comfortably drop down onto the Nikolski Airport, the piece of extraordinary engineering completed in World War Two to allow US troops access to and from the island.
"Someone's down there," Alan said. Virgil caught it; a handful of flashlights, and behind that, an all-terrain vehicle with its lights left on, illuminating their path. He looked beyond the airstrip to the settlement; a scattering of small homes in a bleak landscape, with one large hangar tucked close by the landing. A check of his instruments showed wind gusting at 83kph, flinging the snow at his windshield.
Everything about rescue situations was relative. This was undoubtedly inhospitable, grim, and no long term solution – but compared to what they'd left, it was Virgil's notion of Eden.
"Are they gonna have room for all these people?" Alan's murmur caught Virgil's thoughts.
"For now. People can squeeze into just about any space when survival is at stake."
"Is good." Their Russian interloper pronounced his judgement after his long inspection, crowding forward, intensity in every line of his body.
Not hard to guess the feelings that must have been torturing him, and Virgil felt a pang of empathy. He wanted Scott and Gordon back, now.
"That'll do me." Virgil set Two down on the wintry runway and released the module. "I'll come with you, Al. We need these people cleared fast."
They used the internal lift to collect those crammed into the sickbay, and then lowered it to the cold and comfortless airstrip. Burdened by nothing but ash and worry their passengers stumbled off, joining those streaming from the module, to be met by a tall woman hurrying forward with blankets.
"Welcome, welcome." She stretched out a hand as she passed off the blankets to survivors passing by, and Virgil took it, even as he wanted to skirt the talking and just get people on the ground as soon as possible. "I'm Igasiẋ, this is my home of Qaluun, means place of hot springs. Used to be Fort Glenn. Penelope said there are over 200 people coming?"
"Got 170 here," Virgil confirmed. "More coming, as soon as we can get them. You got anywhere to put them?"
Igasiẋ nodded.
"For now. The hangar. It's heated. We'll billet the injured in the houses, anyone who needs extra attention, the babies." She twisted her mouth, eyes invisible behind the goggles she wore against the snow. "Gonna be tight."
Virgil's relief at the pure capability emanating from the woman before him was immense.
"Thank you. This is temporary. Has Penelope filled you in on..?"
"The shit-show government decisions being made? Nothing new, believe me." She folded her arms. "These people have a place on Chalukaẋ, as long as they need it, but we're gonna need supplies."
"Chalukaẋ?"
"The old name for this place. Adele and I like to try a bit of reclaiming of Aleutian heritage. This snow will stop overnight, and I will be able to fly to Fox Island for as much as I can bring back without anyone taking notice. One piece of luck – we just re-stocked for the season a week ago, in Kodiak. Doubt anyone will notice the doubling up. So we've got food, some tents, some bedding. We'll need a lot more, but… Alright. That little guy seems to have cleared them all out."
Virgil turned about to watch as Alan helped the last of the older folk from the module, steadying them as they met the vicious wind. His little brother had been amazingly efficient in shifting the crowd – or perhaps they were simply motivated by the desire to get clear and let Two go back for their friends, even when it meant bringing children and old people into the swirling snowstorm. He nodded his thanks to Igasiẋ and jogged over to the crowd being shepherded by other islanders towards the hangar that up close looked thoroughly weather-beaten but sturdy nonetheless. A man with a flashlight stood at the access door to the sheltered side, waving them through.
"That's our work done, Alan. We have to hurry."
"On it." Alan handed over the old woman to another of the waiting islanders, then joined Virgil in sprinting back to Thunderbird Two.
"What's happening, John?"
John's voice came through the comms, steady as ever.
"Eruption still imminent, but nothing's happened yet. Fast as you can, Two."
"On it," said Virgil, echoing Alan as they both took to the lift at a dead run, Alan hitting the button that would ascend them into the cockpit.
They cleared Umnak less than three minutes after landing.
Lady Penelope's avatar appeared above the control panel as Two's engines roared the 'bird up into the wild sky.
"Virgil, I'm en route to Umnak now. Parker and I have 500 nutrition pellets and a week's worth of analgesics, but I'm afraid there simply isn't a great deal of room in FAB1 for supplies."
The nutrition pellets were developed by a subsidiary of Tracy Corporation to provide protein and vitamins in a miniature form easily transported to emergency situations. Each one supplied enough for an adult for 24 hours. Five hundred pellets would supplement Igasiẋ's supplies and help the immediate nutrition concerns for the survivors on Umnak, giving them just that little more time to negotiate a better solution.
"Lady Penelope, that's great news. Seemed like they had the situation in hand down there."
"Oh, yes. Adele and Igasiẋ are very smart operators." Her eyes looked especially large against the darkened sky, and Virgil could read in them the kind of anxiety he was busily swallowing himself. She was wedged against the containers of pellets and holding Sherbert high under her chin, almost as a child might clutch a doll, and the fact of it unconsciously revealed more than he was used to seeing from her. It made his voice gentle.
"We're heading back now. ETA nine minutes. Don't worry, we'll get them all out."
"Oh, I'm sure you will." He could see the effort it took to lift her chin, find a smile. "And in the meantime, we'll try and make ourselves useful. I'm still sending out feelers regarding where our Mayflies could eventually be taken, and I might have an option coming through from Ottawa. Nothing firm yet, but it's a possibility."
"That's exactly what we need," said Virgil, warmly.
"Right. I'll leave you to it." Penelope disappeared, and Virgil refocused on Two's speed and elevation. Both were as optimal as he could make them.
"This is some rescue, huh?" said Alan.
"One for the books." He heard the need for reassurance, and answered it. "Feels like it's kinda out of control, and that's not how we like to play it. But we've just saved 170 lives, and we're about to save another 103 more. It's going okay, Al."
"Yeah, yeah. We've got time." Nervous, strained, but Virgil appreciated the effort.
They dropped down through the cloud cover once more, but this time they were met with streaks of black, hitting and almost immediately disappearing from the windshield as the polymer in the glass and the gradient of the shield whisked away the moisture. The trails of black rising up over their heads gave a ghastly effect to the feeble winter light hitting the cockpit, drawing dark lines across their faces as they peered forward. Already the violent red of the volcano's caldera was glowing through the darkness of the smoke and steam that now covered the entire area.
"Hell," Alan breathed.
"Or something like it," Virgil agreed. "We'll need to – "
But before he could finish, Alan cried out, just as John's voice shot through the ether, both cries carrying nothing but horror.
"It's erupting!"
"What? Where? I can't see – " But then he could, and his stomach dropped as his mouth opened and his mind shrieked denial.
"John! Have you got Scott? Where are they?"
John was shaking his head, his eyes betraying his near panic.
"I need you close in order to make connection."
"Oh, we'll get close." Virgil headed Thunderbird straight towards the monstrous cloud of super-heated ash that billowed before him. "Got any last location?"
"Nothing definite. The whole surface is too hot to pick up heat signatures, and visual is completely obscured. Maybe to the right? EOS thought she got a trace of Scott's bio-read from there, but – everything's working against us here."
"To the right." Virgil swung Two around and brought her down to fifty feet above the hilltop, just to the side of the main pyroclastic flow. From there he and Alan strained to see some sign, anything, that would give a clue to their brothers' whereabouts. As the smoke eddied and roiled they both caught occasional glimpses of what seems to be a unique geographical feature, a huge hole carved backwards into the hill.
EOS' voice came through, her program lending her concern and earnestness to please.
"I have increased the pitch ratio in the frequency modulator. If Scott is communicating, I should be able to locate him."
"Thanks, EOS." John's hand movements were frantic, working his controls for every possible point of access through the choked airwaves. "If we can just – "
"… cave… twenty five… so can't… "
"What?" Virgil yelled, as Alan cried, "Scott!" and John made a sound that re-defined relief. "Scott, where are you? Scott, this is Thunderbird Two, we're above the site. Guide us in, One."
An agonising silence as John worked again, and then the crackling transmission came once more.
"… here? We're in a cave, up above a… Virgil, need to cut down into rock, about 35 metres from… all, but need evac now… "
"Thirty five metres back from the edge?" Virgil glared downwards, seeing nowhere safe to land, nowhere obvious to deploy the laser that would melt the rock as Scott asked.
"Makes sense," John said, his voice back under tight control. "They're sheltering under that overhang. Difficult and dangerous and too slow to take them by lift."
"We'll cut a vertical access tunnel, get them out directly to the module," Virgil confirmed. "Just don't want to fry anyone while I do it."
"Scott, can you confirm distance?"
Nothing but crackle through the comms, and Virgil ground his teeth in frustration.
"Okay, gotta take a best guess. We'll go with 35, only hope that's what he meant. Alan, I need you to find me a place where we can set down."
A sudden, sharp pang as he recalled asking Gordon to do the same thing less than an hour ago, at the same place.
"Well, if we take the 35 metres as accurate, just about – there," Alan said, and Virgil nodded at where he was pointing.
"Use the laser to cut down ten metres. Better to go too far than not enough. I'll use the exo-suit and clear a way. Then we'll have to get them up here, use the emergency ladder."
"Whoa," Alan said, frowning at the screen. "This is so fragile. I don't know if it's gonna take our weight."
"Got to try." As carefully as if he were setting a leaf on a bubble, Virgil guided his 'bird down, agonisingly slowly in the face of eminent peril. As the forward prop touched the ground it broke through the crust, tilting Two forward. Immediately Virgil touched the v-tol to regain equilibrium, bringing Two back to hover a foot above the ground.
"That's it for trying to land, then. John, can you stabilise Two from there? I'm gonna be needed on the ground, and we've got a hell of a lot of fast moving hot air shifting the atmosphere around us. Alan, we need that hole now."
"I have you." John worked his controls, then glanced at something to his left.
"The air quality readings I'm getting are pretty bad. Sulphur dioxide, hydrogen sulphide, carbon monoxide. Take the re-breathers; anyone down there is going to need them."
"How many do we have?" Virgil asked Alan.
"Uh – 25, I think?"
"You think? We need to know."
"No, no, it's 25."
John sent Virgil a sharp look. Take it down a notch. Virgil drew in a breath.
"Okay. I'll bring them up, you get them into the module and do triage to figure out who gets a re-breather."
The laser was deployed, slicing into the brittle rock and sending up plumes of dust and smoke.
"I don't even think you're going to need your exo-suit," Alan said. "It's just all crumbling away."
"Well that's a break." Virgil locked the controls and swung his chair back. "Come on, Al. Scott and Gordon will be getting antsy by now."
They hurried to the lift, Virgil pausing only for a second to get a confirming nod from John as the control of Thunderbird Two was transferred to him. His 'bird was as secure as they could make her, suspended between hell and heaven, a lone green thing in a world of dark and fire.
Jumping from the lift Virgil felt the power of the eruption burrowing up through his belly, hammering at the back of his neck. The almost instant sensation of terror in the face of the revolt of the Earth caused him to take a step back, reaching for the nearest prop, needing the reassurance of deliverance floating above whatever monstrous thing had upended the world.
"You okay, Virge?"
He looked to where Alan was nervously scanning the steam and ash, watching for threat, hoping for survivors.
His kid brother had already stood on this awful ground. And was back for more.
If it wasn't perspective, it was at least a promise, one they made every time they pulled on the uniform. He pushed away from his 'bird and trotted to where the newly cut hole smoked.
"You're right. I don't even need to clear this. It's just crumbled. Okay – I'll go down, see where we need to cut a transection to get to these people."
He unhooked his zipline and used an attachment to the underbelly of Two to allow him to drop towards the bottom of the hole. Halfway down he came across the beginning of the honeycombed rock, half bubbles, half eldritch chambers, and as he peered through the murk he saw bodies – people stirring, raising harried faces to where he swung. One by one they scrambled to their feet and began staggering towards him. He could see streaming eyes, hear ragged coughs. He watched as several sank back to the cavern floor, despite their desperation to leave.
These were people who needed evacuation, and not just for escape from immediate peril. These were medical cases, and he flashed onto Umnak, their hopelessly inadequate destination.
No point in thinking of that now. First things first. He called back up to Alan.
"These people aren't going to be able to climb up, Alan. Any ideas?"
"Yeah. One." Alan loomed over the edge, and in his hand he held the end of the large magnet that was used to retrieve Thunderbird Four from the surface of the sea and the dry tubes sent up from the seabed. "I figure we can attach this to the ladder and drop the ladder down, get people to hang onto it. Then I'll retract it. Kind of like a conveyor belt. All they'll have to do is hang on."
Virgil allowed himself a wry grin. "Wow. That's good thinking, little brother. Just might work."
He gestured, and Alan dropped the ladder down to where he caught it. Then, the end of the ladder in hand, he swung onto the cavern floor and stooped to pass through into the strange world of Kamchatka's underbelly.
He couldn't help but look past the people around him to try to see his brothers, but the atmosphere was too full of steam to see more than a few feet. He shook his head, and concentrated on the immediate task.
"Here." He bent down and helped a retching woman to her knees, hooking her arms through the first run of the flexible metal and nylon ladder. "Hold on. Hold on here. Do you understand?"
She gripped it tightly, convulsively, and he guessed she understood well enough.
He reached for another, and another, lining them up on the ladder, leaving each one when they nodded acknowledgement and he was sure they knew what he wanted them to do. The thought of dropping one of them five metres to the bottom of their access hole was not one he wanted to see come to life.
When he had fifteen people attached to the twenty metre ladder, he tapped his comm.
"Alan, you ready?"
"FAB."
"Take it real slow until we know they're okay with it."
"Got it."
The slack in the ladder tightened and slowly the line of people began to drag forward. At the last minute Virgil managed to get past them and stand by the hole, steadying the survivors as their bodies were dragged out and upwards, making sure each one was still secure. The ingenious idea worked; in short order they had the fifteen people on the surface and Alan was busily collecting the ladder to send it back down before helping the badly wheezing and coughing survivors into the module.
"I'm purging the module air as fast as I can," John said over the comm. "Keeping the toxic stuff out. Once they're in there the oxygen should help."
"Should I do the re-breathers here now, Virgil, or come back?"
"No." Virgil was looking around and not liking what he saw. People who lay still when rescue was at hand were never a good sight. "Send them down here. We'll let the module help the ones already there. I think I've got some down here who need them more."
He peered back up in time to see Alan hold the re-breather case above the edge. He held out his arms, and the case dropped down to him.
With re-breathers in hand he moved back into the caves, a shadowy figure bringing breath and life with one small white mask. It never failed to inspire him, the almost instant impact of fresh air on those who only seconds before were close to death. Several quick gulps and red-rimmed eyes opened, heads raised, hands clutched at answers in Virgil's arms. Carrying some, guiding others, he collected another fifteen for Alan's makeshift conveyor belt and gave his brother the go ahead, taking back the re-breathers at the last second to help others still trapped.
One more load lifted carefully towards the wilder air above that still carried hope where none existed below.
"Scott? Scott, are you here?"
Still no answer, so he bent to his task again, finding the scalded and poisoned and leading them to the hole. Another load; another.
Someone grabbed his arm. He looked down, and saw blue.
"Scott!"
His brother's head was bowed. Virgil knew how Scott wore exhaustion, how it created a kind of impossible structure around his body that Scott leaned into, his will bending it to his purpose. He had seen Scott swaying where he stood but still directing rescues, still scooping down to lift those who needed it.
This, though – this was different.
There was a slackness, a surrender.
"Scott? Scott, are you okay?"
And then his brother's face lifted to meet his, and Virgil suddenly knew it might never be okay again.
"God, Scott," and he couldn't help his voice rising, echoing in the steamy darkness, manifesting his fear. "Scott, where's Gordon?"
Notes:
When researching this story I found a fascinating article in an Alaskan online library that detailed the first ethnographers trips to the Aleutian Islands in the late 18th century. I was looking for a woman's name for use here, and came across he original name of Umnak and Qaluun, mentioned above. There were far fewer women's names than men's (typical) but I did find the word Igasix, which means 'wing', and thought that would make a rather lovely name.
I went looking for these names in the hope of being culturally aware and offering respect and representation to the people of Aleutian descent on Umnak. However, I am very well aware that I am ignorant as to the appropriate use or otherwise of these names. If this use is in any way disrespectful, I hope a reader will let me know, and I will immediately remove them; the intent is the exact opposite, but intent can only go so far if offfence, however inadvertent, exists.