My appreciation to all the readers pushed up the reader numbers, and also everyone who put this story on their favorites and alerts list. I'd also like to thank the readers who posted reviews, including warrior princess 122, GhibliGirl91, WantFanFics, Jelsemium, Courtney, Justsuzaku, Mystewitch, Arrows the Wolf, Katya Jade, Qweb, mythwriter, Adamantium Rose, OCDgirl326, La Bella Figura, Kelly Jo, Beloved Daughter, LEPrecon, AndieGibbs09, and gryffindorgal87.
To Jelsemium, who pointed out Mike shouldn't have been able to dig up Steve's past that easily. Well … yeah! Of course not! But then I wouldn't have a credible plot device to pull my minor villain into the story without having him steal the show. Let's all just pretend the P.I. that Mike hired was really, really good…
To Mystewitch, who had to live with nothing but voice mailbox messages like Bernice when her husband was deployed…
Special thanks to Adamantium Rose and Katya Jade, who made some helpful suggestions to help me clean up some clunky exposition. Thank you both! Hopefully it's a little smoother now…
After numerous requests to post my research information –before- people read the chapter so people can picture things I describe, but not wanting to put too many spoilers for those who don't want it, I've decided to start posting my research on Facebook as I'm writing each chapter. I set up a special author sub-account so I don't spam people with every dancing kitten link that I 'like.' If you log in and then hit 'like' you'll get teaser updates as I'm writing, or you can just go before or after the chapter if you want to see more information. And since I listen to music as I write, I'll try to post a link to THAT as well so it will be like you have a soundtrack to each chapter. The link is:
w w w . facebook pages / Anna-Erishkigal / 203837383044945?ref=hl
[close up all the spaces … or search Facebook for Anna Erishkigal, author]
(beige logo account … red logo account is where you get spammed with obscure ham radio lingo and dancing kittens)
Thanks for reading!
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Chapter 49
Steve banked left, circling the caldera of Yasur volcano. Unlike Ambryn, which was a triangular-shaped island with the stereotypical cone and lava tubes located in the center of a lofty mountain, Tanna's volcano was little more than a big black sand dune. The kind of hill Jack and Jill might have climbed to fetch a pail of water. Except for the trail of smoke, it was a bump in a flat plain of black volcanic ash. Make that two bumps. A second hump squatted a few thousand feet from Yasur with no caldera in the center of it. Mount Tukosmera.
He searched for evidence of a cave or lava tube where the Chitauri might hide. Nothing. To his east, Recon Force Two broke out from the underbrush with the jeep the Sikorsky had dropped earlier and began driving across the flat volcanic plain. There was not a living thing in sight to provide cover should all hell break loose. On the other hand, there was not a living thing in sight, period. Including aliens. There was nothing to do but land his jet and perpetuate this little farce.
"Base," Steve called into his radio. "Think I'm going to take this baby down and stretch my legs."
"Roger," the Marines commander called. "Have you cleared with Avengers commander?"
Steve switched broadcast frequencies on his radio.
"Avengers Command, this is Eagle One," Steve called. "We're about to wrap this little show up and put a bow on it. Any problems if I land this thing and snap a few photos of our local friendly volcano?"
"Yes, it's a problem!" Natasha said. "The locals can see you flying up there from miles around. You are to …"
"Sorry, Avengers Command," Steve said, switching the secondary channel on his radio to a frequency immediately below the one occupied by the Avengers and hitting broadcast. "I seem to be getting some unlawful interference on this frequency. Come again."
"Steve, you are to…"
"Avengers Command," Steve said. "I can't hear you. I'll need to coordinate with Base Command." He switched the original frequency back to Base, who he knew was monitoring both frequencies. "Base. This is Eagle One. I'm having difficulty reaching Avengers Command. Were you able to hear what she had to say?"
"Eagle One," the Marines commander called, a hint of amusement in his voice. "We're getting the same interference you are. The carrier deck is swamped right now and you're due for fuel. Why don't you set that baby down the first safe landing site you can find until we get our incoming planes sorted out?"
"Roger," Steve said. "Will do."
Some evil little part of his subconscious caused him to smirk, much the same way Tony Stark always smirked whenever he was told to do one thing and manufactured an excuse to do the opposite. Black ash flew everywhere as he tilted the V/STOL to aim the engines straight up and down instead of horizontally to land the fighter jet.
The most memorable feature about a Harrier jet was its ability to take off and land vertically. Like a helicopter. It was a task the Harrier did well, unsurpassed until the F-35B Lightning II's carried by the USS America had been engineered to do the exact same thing. It was old technology … dating back to 1966. Probably why the Air Force had been willing to relinquish one of its two-seater training jets for retrofitting to replace the P-51 Mustang he had flown back in 1945.
He began the shutdown sequence of the engines, watchful for danger. Nothing. Yasur was as reliable a volcano now as it had been when he had first visited this place back in 1942. Before the military had figured out a more practical use to put his enhanced physiology than selling war bonds. In a way, Yasur was like him. You knew by the smoke and a periodic show of sparks it had the potential to be a lot more destructive, but it chose to sit there quietly, a steady source of amusement for those who wanted to gawk and say 'look … a tame volcano.'
Talk about tame! There was even an official post office box located right at the base of the cone!
While waiting for Recon Force Two to cross the ash plain, he decided to climb the cone. It was little more than a big black sand dune, perhaps a few hundred feet to the summit. He looked down into the crater which, now that the sun was beginning to go down, had the reddish glow of something dangerous lurking beneath the surface. No visible caves. Nothing. He had just led his team halfway across the world on a wild goose chase, including an entire battalion of Marines.
He touched the cell phone sitting in his pocket, the temptation strong. What the heck? His goose was cooked so far as the Avengers were concerned, anyways. Bernice lagged 12 time zones behind him, facing a day filled with hope in contrast to the lackluster day he had already lived. He'd been unable to get through to her last night, only able to leave a message telling her he couldn't wait to get back to see her. Darn. No bars.
Wait! One weak bar… Not a strong enough signal to make a telephone call, but perhaps enough to send her a text message?
Ugh! Only Bernice ever inspired him to use the accursed technology. Half the time the gang kids stood in his class, thumbs glued to their cell phones as though it were flypaper, texting each other back and forth in the same room rather than just talking to the person standing right next to them. He had finally banned the use of them during class, the whole point of bringing kids from rival gangs together being to get them to talk to one another and hash out their disputes in the boxing ring. But texting Bernice was a practical use of the technology. Whenever something had a practical application, Steve figured out how to use it. He typed out what he wished to say and hit the 'send' button.
As Recon Force Two pulled alongside his jet, Steve jogged down the gentle slope to greet them. While the six-man unit bore that watchful posture Marines assumed whenever they walked into potentially hostile territory, Steve could see by the discouraged slope of their shoulders that they had assessed the likelihood of finding their quarry and come to the same conclusion he just had. A dead end.
"Commander Rogers," the Recon Two leader said, his face reddened from a day's worth of tromping through villages and sun. The patch on the MSOT leader's chest said 'Grady,' while the bars on his arm said 'captain.' The exact same rank Steve had been granted when he'd led his first raid on one of Red Skull's fortresses.
"Captain Grady."
Steve greeted the rest of the men, using the name patches and rank-insignia the military outfitted all soldiers with so that commanders like him could easily identify and utilize the men under his command without actually knowing them. Steve recalled meeting these men earlier during the layover to get here and briefing them about the alien situation. The Marines didn't seem too impressed with him now. He turned to the local man, a dark-skinned, dark-haired man perhaps in his early fifties. While not old by western standards, a life of hard physical labor had aged him prematurely, giving his skin a much older appearance. His physique, however, was anything but old. Those same hard conditions had left the local Melanesian Islander as hard and fit as the Marines he guided.
"What's your name, Sir?" Steve asked.
"Pisiv," the man said.
"Can you show us where this John Frum character took your son?"
"No John Frum!" The man emphatically shook his head. "John Frum, he leave Tanna before I born. He go get cargo, bring back for people. This man who come, he say he John Frum. Bring cargo. But I not fooled. Real John Frum bring cargo, ask for nothing in return. This false god … he take our souls."
"Can you show us where, exactly this John Frum came from?"
"There." Pisiv pointed at straight at the summit of the volcano where Steve had stood only moments before.
"There?"
"There. John Frum live there."
Grady, the Recon Two leader, gave Steve one of those frustrated shrugs you might give after being cornered by a crazy homeless lady in a New York City subway station.
"I was just up there, Sir," Steve said. "There was nobody there."
"You call wrong," Pisivi said. "To get John Frum to answer, you must send message. John Frum come to you."
"How?"
"There." Pisiv pointed to the robins-egg blue post office box with the worlds 'Volcano Post' written on it, a large white sign planted into the ground next to it with disclaimers stating the local post office was not responsible for whatever happened to anybody nuts enough to climb an active volcano just to mail a letter. There was a small shelter built around the box, the type you might find around the map inside the entrance to a national park, but some earlier eruption had singed the palms off the roof.
One of the Marines, Vasquez, twirled his finger around his ear in a universal symbol of 'cuckoo.' The others gave Steve a bemused look.
"At least we get to mail home souvenirs to our kids," one of the Marines said, Washington was his name.
Pisiv looked frustrated that they weren't taking him seriously. He might be an older man with a limited education, but he didn't appear to be crazy.
"Can you show us?" Steve asked.
"Legend say you must post letter asking John Frum to come to you," Pisiv said. "John Frum come down from Yasur, come find you. But I smart. I know not the real John Frum. When Jean Raul, my son, he come back possessed, I follow him up here. Go real slow so he don't notice me. You go slow, no make sudden move, the possessed don't notice you behind them. Jean Raul have key. Open box. Then walk up volcano and disappear. Not come back for many days."
"He went inside the volcano?" Steve asked.
"Is small path down," Pisiv said. "Very dangerous. Anybody try, gods tell you they displeased. Send fire to burn you. But when Jean Raul go down, volcano no erupt. It stay quiet until after he disappear."
"Show us."
"I no have key," Pisiv say. "Or I go get son myself. I think he throw self into vent when he go down into cone, no can see no more. Hold funeral and everything. Then he come back four days later … possessed. Like he no know how to act half the time."
The Marine's elbowed each other, having a hard time believing the old man's story. Steve knew better. He gave the lower-ranking Marines a 'knock it off' look.
"I want you to pull that box up from the ground and see if there's anything special about it," Steve ordered.
"Messing with the post office is a federal offense," Vasquez said with a grin.
"This ain't America," Captain Grady barked. "Get moving."
Within moments, the Marines had pulled the box out of the ground and were staring at what had appeared to be a log post until it had been pulled out of the sand.
"There's wires here, sir," Washington said.
"Well I'll be," Vasquez said. "This here be one of them high tech email boxes, I guess."
"Now what?" Captain Grady asked. "Phone home?"
"Break the box open," Steve said. "There has to be some sort of switch."
A few bashes from an M-17 had the box open in short order. They flipped open the lid and searched inside. Up on the very top of the back of the box, right where the post had been attached, was a small button. Steve pressed it.
"Now what, Sir?" Washington asked.
"We climb down into the volcano and see what happens," Steve said. He turned to Pisiv, the local man claiming he had lost his son to demons. "Sir, if you don't mind, I'd feel a lot safer if you stayed in the jeep until we checked things out."
"Jean Raul go to another village," Pisiv said. "Not gone in volcano no more. I have no wish to meet volcano gods." He ambled back to the jeep, content to sit and wait.
"C'mon," Steve said. "Let's go see if we're chasing ghosts or have a solid lead."
The Marines demeanor as they climbed up the cone was much more tense than when they'd walked into an empty ash plane and been told an ordinary post office box was a direct channel to god. There was no electricity up here. No buildings. Not even an electronic eruption monitoring station, which would have at least made sense. The wires coming out of the post office box were even weirder than the post office box itself. But if you wanted to hide, why not hide in plain site?
"Base," Steve called as they hiked up. "This is Eagle One. We found a suspicious device buried in a post office box. We're going to follow up on it."
"Did you say mailbox?" Base called.
"Affirmative," Steve said. "The old man said the box was some sort of communication device to let you climb down into the volcano. We cracked it open and found a button and wires going into the ground."
There was a moment of silence on the other end.
"Eagle One," Base called. "Go ahead and investigate. Let us know if you find anything. I'm going to have the birds perched on the edge of the runway, ready to go if you need them."
"Roger," Steve called.
The volcano was quiet, only a light stream of smoke coming out of one of the three vents. The volcano hadn't erupted since he'd climbed out of his jet, but he'd see it shoot off sparks several times today and had gotten a close look at it erupt back in 1942. Mistaking Yasur for a 'tame' volcano would be a mistake. They climbed to the very edge of the cone and looked down a steep slope that looked like a sand dune eroded by the tide.
"We're supposed to climb down that?" Washington asked.
"Whatsa matter, Marine?" Vasquez said. "You suddenly turn into some kind of pansy?"
"Then you climb down it!" Washington said. "I ain't afraid of nothing I can shoot at, but volcanos are something else."
"I don't know where I'm a gonna go," another Marine sang the old Jimmy Buffet song. Garcia. "When the volcano blows."
"I'll do it," Steve said, glancing at the other Marines. "I'm not the kind of commander to order others to do what I'm too chicken to do myself."
Garcia dug a rope out of his pack and unwound it to tie around Steve's waist, just in case he lost his footing and took a tumble off the step sides of the cone into the hot ash, or heaven forbid, one of the vents below. Washington and Vasquez wound the rope through their waists like a winch, as though they were trees, and bent at the knees so they would be more stable. Captain Grady stepped forward.
"I'll do it, Sir," Captain Grady said. "You're the only one who knows what's up with that whole fishy business about the aliens having spies. If anything happens to you … you're just too valuable."
Steve nodded. Captain Grady was right.
"Ain't none of us chicken," Vasquez said. "Except maybe for Washington over there. His Mama made him join the Marines before he got rid of all his milk teeth." Vasquez's words were tough, but his eyes were fearful. This was a force of nature they were dealing with. Not an enemy they could fight. The Chitauri had known what they were doing when they had plunked down a contact station right in the caldera of an active volcano.
"We draw lots," Washington said. "All of us. Me too. I didn't say I was afraid to do it. Only that I wasn't going to go crawling down into some active volcano without a reason."
Steve decided maybe it was time to enlighten the men about the stakes. If this particular unit was compromised, the enemy already knew they were here. If not, the men had a right to know.
"The base we found at Ambrym had hundreds of beds," Steve said. "Right in the volcano. The aliens had six little kids in that facility. Drilled wires into their brains and hooked them up to some sort of machine. We think there may be a similar facility here. Whatever they were hiding, it was important enough for them to station three Leviathans to protect it. Even if the aliens are long gone, chances are they left some clues behind."
"The old man said his son was taken only a few weeks ago," Captain Grady said. "And that others have recently disappeared. That means there's still an active threat on the island."
The Marines nodded agreement. There was a good reason the President said 'send in the Marines' to the really tough expeditionary missions. They weren't ones to shrink back from a threat. Especially not a Recon Force unit such as this.
There were no sticks or blades of grass anywhere to pull lots. They finally ended up snapping the filter off a bunch of Camel cigarettes and using those as straws. Washington drew the short cigarette. With a shrug, he strapped on his flak helmet and wound the rope around his waist. Making a quick sign of the cross, he began to climb down the side of the caldera down a steep, narrow path that was only visible if you were looking for it. The smoke began to get thicker.
"Washington!" Captain Grady shouted when Washington disappeared underneath an overhang. "What do you see?"
"There's some sort of door down here, Sir," Washington shouted, only his voice audible from the caldera. "It's got some sort of outer blast door covered with black sand and rock to make it blend in. It looks like it just slid open when we hit the button on the mailbox."
"Come back up," Steve shouted. "I'm going to call in reinforcements."
"Base, Base, this is Recon Two command," Captain Grady called, already on it. "We've found something. I repeat. We've found something."
"Wait a minute," Washington shouted. "I see something just inside the door. It looks like…"
A horrifying scream floated up from the caldera.
"Washington, Washington!" the Marines shouted. Vasquez yanked on the rope and fell backwards, rolling several times down the outer slope of the volcano until he regained his footing. The rope came up. Cut.
The others aimed their M-17's down into the mouth of the volcano, clicking almost in unison as they locked and loaded. The volcano began to rumble.
"Go go go go!" Captain Grady shouted. He gestured for the others to follow him down into the caldera to see what had happened to Washington.
The entire volcano began to shudder, an ancient beast awakening from its slumber. Loose ash tumbled down the side, like grains of sand sifting through the neck of an hourglass. Bits of pumice bounced off their helmets, tiny hail-like sparks burned through their uniforms anyplace it wasn't at least two layers thick.
"Recon Two, Recon Two," Base shouted over the radio. "What's your status?"
A pillar of flames shot out of all three vents of the caldera, bathing them in larger sparks. A millisecond later, one of the vents exploded, raining molten pumice the size of softballs all over them.
"That thing's going off!"
Flames began to shoot out of the three vents at once. He had seen it go off like this the last time he was here … from a safe distance. The local kid had seemed to know the volcano's schedule and made him wait a couple of hours after one such eruption. The thing had gone off shortly before Steve had landed the Harrier jet. It wasn't anywhere near due. If their suspicions were correct, the whole thing was some sort of elaborate hoax.
A very deadly hoax. Yasur was definitely an active volcano. Only the timing of the vents could be a hoax. The aliens must somehow be able to control when it erupted to cover their activities while simultaneously giving an excuse to shuttle supplies up the mountain. Cripes! There was even a road right up to almost the top of the cone!
"Eagle One!" Base shouted over the radio. "What the hell is going on there?"
The floor of the volcano split open, shooting sparks everywhere.
"Get the hell out of here!" Captain Grady shouted.
"What about Washington?" Vasquez shouted.
"It's too late!" Captain Grady shouted. "Get the hell out of here. We've got a civilian in the jeep."
"Go!" Steve shouted. "I've got the jet."
The entire mountain began to buck, an enraged rodeo bull attempting to shake off a rider. The Marines ran towards the jeep, shouting at the old man to get the thing started up. The old man didn't waste any time, ready to tear out of there the moment they got there.
"Base, base," Steve shouted. "Yasur is erupting in a big way. I repeat. Yasur is erupting. I think the aliens are somehow able to control it."
A pathetic wail came from down in the belly of the volcano. Washington?
"Base, this is Eagle One," Steve shouted into the radio. "We've got a man down. Repeat. We've got a man down. Washington. I'm going down to get him."
"Negative," Base shouted. "Get the hell out of there. Repeat. Get the hell out of there. That's an order."
A phrase Natasha seemed fond of floated into his mind….
"You're not in charge of this operation," Steve said calmly into the radio. "I am. I'll call you as soon as I airlift him out of here."
Thank god he had that fancy, newfangled armor Tony Stark had made for him after they'd thawed him out of the ice. The one he hated because it looked like that fabric the ladies like to wear. Spandex. How he missed his old armor which had been, well, armor. But one of the things Stark had bragged about this newer version was that it was flame resistant.
Saying a prayer to whatever god had thought it would be funny to wake him up from a 67 year sleep, Steve pictured getting home to the woman he loved as he climbed down into the belly of the volcano.
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Note: And there … I'm going to leave you all until I have a chance to write the next chapter!
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