8

December 5, day 18, mid-morning, I think. Lou writing.

Yes, I still have the logbook. Not sure I want to give it back, as I’m having way too much fun illustrating it. This is eruption day 13. The lava shows no signs of slowing, yet there is still no ash, which is a good sign, as we have nowhere to hide from it.

Jim wants us to stay here until the eruption stops. I did try telling him that could be weeks, but there’s no arguing with him. So I spend my time sitting here, watching Ailsa make the green stuff, which incidentally, needs a far better name than ‘green stuff’. I shall have to come up with one. Unless it has one. Hang on a sec, and I’ll ask her.

Lou glanced up and chewed on the pen. “Ailsa, what’s this green stuff called?”

“Mytona,” she said looking over. “Why?”

“I figured we can’t keep calling it green stuff, that’s all.” She turned back to the log book and wrote.

“Any chance I can have the logbook back?” Jim asked.

She grinned. “Nope, I’m writing in it.”

“You sleep on it too,” he complained.

“You’ll live. Is that m-y-t-o-n-a?”

“Not exactly, but it’ll do.” Ailsa smiled. “How’s the leg doing?”

“Sore. When can I have more?”

“Not until this afternoon. And only if you help make lunch.”

Lou raised an eyebrow. “You want food poisoning?”

“It’s fish. Not exactly rocket science.”

She swallowed hard, not really liking fish, but there wasn’t much choice out here in the middle of nowhere. “OK, I’ll help.”

“Good. You can descale them.”

Lou rolled her eyes. “Oh, joy. I love doing that.” She closed the logbook and slid it behind her, ignoring Jim’s frown. “You can have it when I’m done and not before. Now, where are these fish?”

~*~

December 15, day 28, dawn, Jim’s entry

I finally got the logbook back from Lou. Can’t say I’m impressed by all the pictures that suddenly appeared but it’s not worth fighting over. I did that once already and can never make up for what happened as a result.

The volcanic eruption slowed drastically last night. She’s still steaming and occasionally throwing out lava, but that could continue for several weeks yet while the magma inside does whatever it does to cool down.

We stayed where we were the last few days. I wasn’t going to risk setting off and getting trapped by the lava flow. But now it’s time to move and start heading towards the coast again. Instead of going the way I’d originally intended, we’ll head inland a bit and then swing right. Otherwise we’ll hit the lava flow.

Not a good move.

And despite what Lou thinks, I’m not leaving her. I love her like a sister. And I’ve lost enough without losing her, too. I know we joked about naming the volcano, but it was never written down in here to make it official. So now I am doing so.

I’m sorely tempted to call the volcano Mount St. Lou. Because she can stew like that and then blow her top and vent for days—

Oy! This is Lou editing. Mount St. Jim is more like it. Or we just call it Mount Vulcan and be done with it. That deserves another shark drawn all over the next page methinks. Or better still…what’s this? \0/

It’s Jim again. I have no idea what a \0/ is…other than me throwing my hands in the air in sheer desperation. And no I don’t get the point joke either. And I’m not going to encourage her by asking her to explain it.

Anyway, we’re setting off again today. I know we can’t go far, not with Lou as sick as she is. She’ll deny it of course, but she’s drinking more and more of the mytona painkiller that Ailsa made. So much so, that I’m now carrying it in my pack and restricting how much she has.

Having read Lou’s comment about sleeping a lot, I watched her last night. Though her sleep isn’t exactly restful, she’s right. She falls asleep almost as soon as she lies down and doesn’t stir until either I or one of the girls wake her.

Speaking of which, I need to get the fire going again and then get everyone up. It’s doubtful the villagers will come after us, but I’d rather put another mile between us and them just in case. Preferably more, but I’m not too hopeful. It’s been days since Lou moved more than a few feet. I fear a long walk may be beyond her.

~*~

Christmas Eve, December 24th, day 36, early morning. Jim writing.

I have begun to doubt that we will ever make the coast. Some days we barely make half a mile, other days we don’t move at all. My priority has to be getting the girls safely home.

I’m trusting in God to find my parents and get them back to England in one piece. And praying He will do the same with us. What we need is a miracle, and although I’m fresh out of them, I know Someone who specializes in the miracle business.

I only have one choice left. I have to go on alone and call for help. That means finding a village in which to leave the girls, or leave them here and hope they’ll be OK if the weather changes or something else happens.

During a mid-morning rest, Jim sat between Staci and Ailsa and lowered his voice, not wanting Lou to overhear him. “I was thinking, I’d better leave you guys and head for the base on my own.”

“Why?”

“Lou needs help, Stace. It could be weeks before we get there at this rate.”

“No. You’re not leaving me.”

“We stand a better chance together, Jim,” Ailsa said, agreeing with Staci.

Jim sighed. “If we keep going as we are, Lou will never make it. Her leg is really bad again. She’s not looking too good as it is. She’s sleeping a lot more than she should do and she’s losing weight.”

“But then she’s not eating, is she?” Staci shrugged. “So we find a village. See if they can help. They’re bound to have a doctor. Or a phone.”

“And how many cell phone towers have you seen around here?”

Lou hobbled over to them. “Is this a private discussion or can anyone join in?”

Ailsa smiled. “Jim wants to leave us here and head for the base on his own. We are trying to talk him out of it.”

“Too right. He goes, we go. Anyway it’s Christmas. Jim can’t go now.”

Ailsa sighed. “It’s been years since I celebrated Christmas. We used to go to a midnight service on Christmas Eve. I loved singing the carols. And afterwards coming out into the still night air, where you could see your breath.”

“We could sing carols later if you like. OK, it’s not going to be cold, but we can still sing.” Jim smiled at her.

“Thank you. I’d like that.”

Lou grinned. “Where is the nearest turkey farm then?”

“No turkeys here. Just us chickens,” Staci said.

Jim groaned. “Ha ha. Your jokes are worse than Lou’s.”

“Mine?” she scoffed. “I learned from the master as far as bad jokes go. But it isn’t Christmas without a turkey dinner.”

“We don’t need turkey anyway. I’ll organize dinner. Make it a special one.” Staci added.

“You’re on,” Lou said. She looked at Jim. “How about we just stay put until the day after tomorrow? It’s too hot to walk and two more days won’t make much difference.”

“We should camp by the river then,” Ailsa said. “Then we’ll have shade and water.”

“And fish.” Jim said. “Fish for dinner.”

Lou felt a bolt of fear run through her as she remembered what had happened the last time Jim had wanted fish. Still, she reasoned, there shouldn’t be any sharks in this river.

They packed up camp and started walking.

Twenty minutes later, they reached the river. With a clearing, trees for shade, grass to sit and sleep on and all the fresh, clean water they could drink, Jim declared it perfect. He put the bags down. “We’ll stop here.”

“Sounds good,” Lou said. She sat down and leaned back against a tree, rubbing her knee.

Sitting around the fire that evening, the stars shone brightly in the darkness.

Deefer dozed at Lou’s feet.

Staci looked across at Ailsa. “We have this nativity scene at home. On Christmas Eve we’d put all the figures in except the baby Jesus. We’d do that on Christmas morning before opening our presents. After we’d set up the nativity, Dad would tell us the Christmas story.

“There would be carols on the CD player; mince pies in the oven; satsumas and tangerines on the sideboard. Tinsel, the tree covered with lights and baubles, and cards hanging on pieces of string all over the walls. Then Mum would put the turkey in overnight—so in the morning the house would smell all Christmas-y.” She paused. “Tell me a story, Jim.”

Jim looked at her. “Aren’t you a bit old for bedtime stories?”

“Please Jim—just this once.”

“OK. What one do you want?”

“That’s a silly question.” Staci laughed. “The Christmas story.”

“So long as you lie down. It’s late.”

Staci did as she was told.

They all listened as Jim told the story of that first Christmas night two thousand years ago.

Staci smiled. “Thanks Jim. We all need reminding. Usually we get so caught up and bogged down in the commercialization of it—cards, food, present shopping—that we forget what it’s all about.”

“A tiny baby,” Ailsa said. “Who grew up to save His people.”

“The best present anyone could have,” Jim said. He looked at his watch. “Midnight,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Ailsa and Lou chorused.

The night was warm and still. Ailsa looked up at the sky. “I can almost imagine the angels. Peace on Earth and goodwill to all men.”

~*~

Christmas Day, day thirty-seven according to the logbook, was the hottest day since they landed on Agrihan. Hot, humid and sultry.

Even Ailsa complained it was too hot as she and Staci headed off to find enough fruit to last them the day.

Lou reckoned the temperature was well over a hundred. She was glad they weren’t going anywhere today.

Deefer clambered out of the river and ran into the middle of the campsite. He shook himself vigorously, showering water everywhere.

“T’was Christmas Day and all through the camp, a wet Deefer ran making everything damp,” Jim quipped.

“You get worse not better.” Lou groaned, wiping her face. “That’s enough, Deefer. You’ll dry soon in this heat.”

Ailsa and Staci came back with their arms full of fruit. “We found mushrooms to go with the fish from earlier,” Staci said excitedly. “Dinner will be a feast.”

“But that’s not the best bit,” Ailsa added. “We found a village. It’s about half a mile from here.”

“That’s great,” Jim said, a huge grin on his face. “We’ll go now.”

“Too hot.” Ailsa shot a sideways glance at Lou. “After dinner when it’s a little cooler will do fine.”

She and Staci sat down and started preparing the mushrooms and other roots they had collected, while Jim started the fire.

Lou rubbed her knee. Her leg was a lot worse than she was letting on. It was beginning to smell now and she felt rotten. But the others didn’t need to know that. At some point she’d confide in the logbook, in a coded entry no one else could read. Until they had to.

Jim leaned across and handed her the bottle. “Time for another dose of the mytona, mate.”

“Thank you.” She swallowed the mouthful and gave the bottle back to Jim. “At least I can swallow this now without wanting to throw up. We have a lot to thank Ailsa for. Not just this, but finding food and so on.”

“Yeah we do.” Jim looked at Ailsa and Staci across the other side of the camp.

They had their heads together and were giggling over something.

Jim glanced at Lou. “They get on well, don’t they?”

“Just as well.”

“What are you implying?”

Lou did her best to look innocent. “Nothing.”

“Yes, you are. What?”

“Well, what with your liking Ailsa, it...” She laughed as Jim blushed. “Sorry. Seriously if we didn’t get on, this trek wouldn’t be much fun, would it?”

“We’d also starve.”

“True. So you like her for her looks, fashion sense, or survival skills?”

“Unfair question,” Jim said blushing again. “All of the above.”

Lou pushed herself up. “I’ll go give them a hand while you go get some more water from the stream.” She slowly made her way over to the others and sat down. “Give me those fish, and I’ll gut them.”

Ailsa handed over her knife and the fish. “So is Jim taken?”

“Oh, please take him.” Staci laughed. “No. He likes you though.”

“He’s very fond of you, Lou. I don’t want to step on your toes here if there’s something between you.”

Lou snorted. “He doesn’t see me as anything more than a sister or a friend. He never will.”

Ailsa concentrated on the task and didn’t look up. “Does he really like me?”

Staci grinned. “The word besotted springs to mind. What about you?”

Ailsa blushed and Staci giggled.

“So it is mutual then?”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. Your face said it for you.” Lou looked at the fish. “Shame we can’t make the fish purple again. That was so funny.”

Ailsa looked confused. “Purple fish?”

“We dyed it to get our own back on Jim. You should have seen his face. He did eat it in the end.”

Ailsa laughed. She wrapped the fish in leaves and then gave the fish to Jim to put in the fire to bake

Staci stood up. “I’m going to get some more fruit,” she said. “I’ll take Deefer.”

“You can’t go on your own, Stace,” Lou objected.

“I won’t be on my own. I’m taking Deefer. Anyway it’s not far.” She grabbed a rucksack and whistled to Deefer. “Come on. Walkies.” She clipped on his lead and ran down the path, Deefer at her heels.

Lou looked at Jim.

Once Staci had gone out of sight, his face had changed. The almost forced happiness had vanished, leaving a mask of sorrow on his face.

She asked gently, “Are you OK?”

“Not really,” he said honestly. “It’s hard. I keep thinking about Mum and Dad and how we usually spent Christmas. The house would be decorated from top to bottom with tinsel and ceiling decorations. Dad would hang lights outside. Mum would have lit candles everywhere. I just wish I knew where they are and whether they’re all right.” He broke off as his voice wavered.

Lou crossed over to him and sitting next to him, put her arms around him as he finally gave in to his emotions. Lou held him as he sobbed. She looked across at Ailsa. “It had to come,” she said. “He’s been strong for both of them for so long now.”

A few minutes later, Jim pulled away. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what? Being human?”

“For making such a fuss.”

“Jim, real men cry. You’re allowed to miss them. Grief is the price you pay for love, as someone once told me. You can’t keep it locked up forever.”

Ailsa sat up suddenly. She sniffed the air and looked at the others. “Can you smell something?”

The others both sniffed. Smoke drifted over the trees.

“Burning,” Jim said.

Terror shot through Lou. “The forest is on fire. The lava flow must have hit something combustible and started a fire.”