Imagine (Fuzed Trilogy Book 2) Read online

The guerilla leader told everyone to pick up a bag and start walking. Josh translated his commands into English.

  Dieter protested.

  Josh used the most neutral term to describe them. “Dieter, these are revolutionary fighters. If you don’t want to be shot, you’ll do exactly as they say.”

  The leader, who must have understood some English, nodded and said in English, “Yes!”

  One of the young guerillas led the way with a flashlight. The medical team followed in single file. Josh picked up two of the heaviest bags and was the last of their party. Three guerillas followed him, including the leader.

  It was slow going through the heavy brush and mud. The night forest was alive with sounds and smells, although, the immediate company was the most powerful smell. To be fair, it wasn’t just the guerillas. A plane crash could stress the best deodorant.

  The leader asked in Spanish, “You are a bad pilot, yes?”

  Josh said, “Good pilot, bad airplane.”

  The guerillas behind him laughed.

  In the dark, wet branches hit them in the face and caught at their clothes. Although the guerillas behind them used flashlights to illuminate their path, there was a lot of stumbling over small branches and roots. Dieter tripped and fell. The German doctor was overweight and out of shape. The guerillas stopped and waited, but offered no help.

  After 40 minutes, they reached a dirt road. The guerillas kept them in a tight group, walking behind and flanking them. They followed the dirt road for several kilometers. Cold, wet and muddy, they finally reached three old, beat-up SUVs. Two of them didn’t even have doors.

  The guerillas threw the medical supplies into the back of one of the vehicles, and then crammed their captives inside the other two, making them sit on each other’s laps. Josh was happy to have a svelte Elizabeth sitting in his.

  She looked at him with concern.

  He smiled and whispered, “Don’t worry; you’re too valuable to them as a nurse.” He winked. “But try not to look so cute.” She gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand.

  Some of the guerillas stood in the open doors, hanging on to improvised roof racks, as the SUVs bounced slowly down the dirt road. The ride was rough, and several times, they had to slow to a crawl to cross running water and avoid fallen trees or fissures in the ground. It was an hour before they arrived in what he assumed was a small town or village. As they pulled up near the outskirts, they could see only a few isolated lights ahead.

  An older man in fatigues came up to the lead vehicle and spoke to their leader. Josh couldn’t hear their conversation, but read the body language. It was clear the younger leader of the capture party was reporting to the older man. The older man clapped him on the back, clearly recognizing his accomplishment, and then pointed further into the town.

  They had taken his phone, but he had a good internal clock and knew it was about three in the morning. In the dark, it was hard to see, but it was obvious they passed some badly damaged structures and a lot of rubble. Their vehicles pulled up in front of what looked like a corrugated metal warehouse about 25 meters wide. Illuminated by a weak floodlight, he could see it was rusted and leaning a little to one side. He heard a generator running in the background as the guerrillas led them inside.

  Davidson was startled to see Smith standing silently in front of his desk. Frowning he said, “How do you do that?” Shaking his head, he smiled. “Never mind.” He came around his desk and shook Smith’s hand. “Thanks for coming on such short notice. How are you doing?”

  Smith nodded. “Very well.”

  “And Sheri?”

  Completely deadpan, Smith said, “Good, but she won’t let me shoot any of her paparazzi.”

  With a slight headshake, Davidson smiled. “That’s rather unreasonable of her.”

  Smith nodded. “What can I do for you?”

  “Got a situation.” Closing his office door, Davidson pulled two chairs close to each other. As they sat down, he said, “Someone hacked into our computer.”

  Smith didn’t say anything.

  “They got into a system that shouldn’t be possible to access from outside.”

  “Inside job?”

  “We thought it had to be, but our Cyber Warfare guys now believe it was an external hack ... a very sophisticated attack.” He paused and looked directly at Smith. “What we do know is that they were searching for one particular record, and found it — Josh Fuze.”

  Smith tilted his head slightly. “What did the late Commander Fuze say when you told him about this?”

  “That’s the problem. Haven’t been able to talk to him. He’s helping Elizabeth with disaster relief work in Columbia. Called the Bogota station chief.” He shook his head. “Apparently, Josh and Elizabeth flew south with a small medical team. Their plane never arrived.”

  Smith frowned and leaned forward. “Where were they headed?”

  “A southern city near the quake’s epicenter.” Davidson pulled a paper off his desk and looked at it. “San Juan de Pasto in the Narino province. Their last radar position put them over the mountains to the northwest of Pasto.”

  Smith shook his head. “FARC.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia.”

  Davidson nodded in recognition. “Revolutionary Armed Forces of Columbia.”

  “Did ops there a few years ago. They were Marxist guerrillas, but with the collapse of their communist support, their primary revenue stream is now cocaine and kidnapping. That area is still one of their strongholds.” He stood up. “I’m on my way.”

  “Tim, San Juan de Pasto’s less than nine klicks from a 14,000-foot volcano. Latest report says the comet woke it up.”

  As Josh and his fellow captives entered the building, they found a surprisingly well-lit, open area filled with two dozen cots, all occupied. Clearly, this was a makeshift hospital. The patients in the cots and those attending them looked up. Smiles of relief appeared on their faces as the guerilla leader announced they had doctors, nurses and medical supplies.

  A gray-haired man in his sixties with a rough complexion and a short beard came out from one of the back rooms. He wore jeans and a button-down shirt. Although he walked with a limp, he carried himself with confidence. In Spanish, he immediately asked, “You are doctors and nurses?”

  Josh nodded and introduced everyone.

  He hugged them with enthusiasm, introducing himself as Father Cletus Alfredo Rodriquez. Then he thanked the guerilla leader and gently but firmly ushered him out.

  Two guerillas stayed behind. They slung their AK-47s over their shoulders and sat down on chairs just inside the entrance.

  Realizing the medical team spoke English, Father Rodriquez switched to heavily accented but excellent English. “Thank God, you’re here. You’re the answer to a prayer.” He frowned and asked a little tentatively. “I’m afraid to ask, but how did you end up here?”

  Josh said, “Our plane made an emergency landing in the river.”

  Rodriguez looked relieved. “I was afraid my friends might have obtained you from a medical aid station. Was anyone injured in the landing?”

  Josh shook his head.

  “Then it truly is a prayer answered. I’m the Catholic priest for this area ... or what’s left of it. I have some basic medical training,” he pointed to a woman older than him, “and Sister Teresa is a nurse, but this ... this is far beyond our abilities.”

  Leah asked Rodriquez to show them the critical patients. Finally in an environment they understood, the medical team went into triage mode. There were two dozen injured people; many were children. Not surprising with an earthquake, there were a lot of broken bones and internal injuries.

  Most people would be catatonic after an airplane crash and kidnapping. Josh marveled that this team worked quickly and efficiently as if they were in a modern hospital. It was like watching a carefully choreographed ballet. He suspected they were adrenaline junkies at heart and actually thrived in high-
pressure environments.

  After determining which patients were the most critical, Dieter started performing emergency surgeries. Josh and Montoya helped wherever they could, pulling out supplies, moving patients, and even donating blood — one of Josh’s least favorite activities.

  Just as they were getting a handle on the situation, another aftershock struck. The suspended fluorescent lights swayed back and forth creating eerie shadows as the metal building creaked and groaned. Several patients cried out in fear or pain as their cots vibrated like pucks in an air hockey game.

  The aftershock wasn’t strong enough to knock anyone out of a cot, but it was stronger than the previous one and lasted longer. As it subsided, they heard a low frequency rumble that sounded like distant thunder.

  As the sound faded, Josh, standing near Rodriquez, gave him a questioning look.

  Rodriquez said, “Galeras.”

  Josh shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  Rodriquez said softly, “The volcano.”

  11

  GALERAS

  Josh asked Rodriquez, “Does it do this often?”

  “Only after a comet.” Rodriquez smiled. “The volcano has had many eruptions for as far back as we have records. It’s ejected tons of ash and many lava streams, but they’ve never gone further than a few kilometers from the volcano. But now ....” He shrugged.

  “How far away are we?”

  Rodriquez frowned. “If it were daytime, Galeras would dominate the view to the east. We sit at the foot of the volcano.”

  They worked through the next day and into the night. While getting supplies, Josh was able to easily extract his pistol from the bottom of one of the medical bags and hide it in a cubbyhole where he could get to it later. He knew they were in no danger from the guerillas as long as they were taking care of their people, but he was under no misconception of their value after that. He also knew that he and Montoya were the most expendable.

  Another aftershock hit, similar to the first. Josh could tell they were coming more frequently.

  By nine that night, the team’s pace slowed. They’d only lost one patient, who was probably beyond help even if they could have gotten him to a modern hospital. They stabilized the most critical and were able to release several. That left 18 bedridden patients. They decided to take shifts so that everyone could get some real sleep. Josh stayed awake while Elizabeth slept. He was so appreciative of his new body, but he was finally having difficulty focusing and keeping his eyes open.

  At two in the morning, Elizabeth got up and said, “You’ve got to get some sleep. You’ve been awake for two days and donated more blood than you should have. We need you sharp. As your medical team lead, I’m ordering you, Commander Fuze, to go to sleep.”

  He didn’t argue. He found a corner of the building and made a nest of cardboard boxes. The last thing he remembered was putting his head down and hearing the soft rain on the metal roof.

  He woke from a nightmare — he had been flying his annual instrument check flight but hadn’t flown in over a year, couldn’t remember anything and was failing terribly. Rubbing his eyes, he looked around and saw guerillas guarding the door of the makeshift hospital that sat at the foot of a volcano. With a half-smile, he said softly, “Thank God, it was just a bad dream.”

  It was about six in the morning and very quiet. Most of the patients and medical personnel were asleep, with the exception of Michelle, who was re-doing a bandage, and one of the armed guerillas near the door.

  He realized that the feeling something was wrong didn’t depart with the nightmare. He was learning to trust his premonitions and sat there for a minute trying to sense what was different. It hit him. He hadn’t noticed it because he’d been breathing it in his sleep, but there was a hint of smoke above the background scent of sulfur. He sniffed the air and frowned. It wasn’t smoke from wood burning in a campfire; it was the smoke created by throwing green leaves into a fire.

  He looked at the two guards. One slept in his chair, propped against the wall. The other was awake and reading a book. Josh went over to where he’d stashed the pistol and slipped it into his pocket. Then he walked slowly toward the guard so she would see him and not be startled. In Spanish, he softly said, “Excuse me. I think I smell smoke. Can we take a look outside?”

  She woke up the other guard and told him they were going to check.

  He nodded.

  She was medium-height with a mocha complexion and dark, intelligent eyes. She motioned for Josh to go first.

  It was early dawn with a heavy overcast sky. The rain had stopped, but there were puddles and mud everywhere. Looking around in the twilight, he saw a small village consisting of a few dozen houses, most of them badly damaged. The village sat on a foothill surrounded by a patchwork of small agricultural plots bounded by lush forest. Josh knew volcanic soil was some of the richest in the world, great for growing coffee or cocaine.

  Looking to the east, the foothill dropped off slightly toward the forest edge. From there, it met a massive mountain slope that climbed up into the clouds. This must be the base of Galeras. Not surprisingly, the village was deserted.

  The young guerilla shook her head. “I don’t smell smoke.”

  There was the slightest of breezes coming from behind them as they faced the volcano. Josh sniffed the air and nodded toward the vegetation. “I think it’s coming from that direction. Can we take a closer look?”

  She frowned, glanced back at the hospital and then nodded.

  Josh began to walk slowly toward the volcano with his guard trailing him. They reached the edge of the village about a kilometer from the hospital. The road ended and there was a slight downward slope into a small farm plot. At its far edge, was the forest. Peering into the trees, he thought he saw a very slight glow and pointed toward it.

  The young guerilla woman said, “I don’t see anything.”

  Josh realized his sense of smell was ridiculously sensitive and he could see slightly into the infrared. Unfortunately, she couldn’t, and the wind was blowing any smell away from them.

  Her eyes narrowed as she held the AK-47 close. “We must return now!”

  She obviously suspected he was trying to get her close to the jungle in order to escape.

  Josh nodded and said, “I must just be tired.” He began to walk back past her and then stopped. Looking back over his shoulder, he said, “What was that?”

  As she glanced back, he swept her legs out from under her with a judo move.

  She didn’t give up without a fight and kicked him on the way down.

  He deflected the blow, and as she landed on her back, he had his foot on her shoulder and the nine-millimeter pointed at her head.

  She froze.

  Very softly, he said, “I’m not going to hurt you or escape, but I do smell smoke, and we need to investigate.”

  He took her AK-47 and slung it over his shoulder. Then he lifted his foot and motioned with the barrel of the pistol. Pointing to the forest, he said, “Ladies first.”

  As she got up, he pulled the walkie-talkie off her belt. They started walking slowly on a path through the agricultural patch. Splashing and sliding their way for 100 meters, they reached the edge of the forest.

  She stopped. Sniffing the air, she exclaimed, “Smoke!”

  This close, the breeze no longer kept the smoke at bay and they heard a slight crackling sound in the distance. Moving through heavy forest vegetation, they began to feel puffs of heat wafting through the trees. The young guerrilla woman pointed at a distant glow. “Lava!”

  The wet ground and vegetation prevented the forest from burning easily, but there was no doubt the lava was consuming it and moving toward them.

  Josh said, “Let’s go a little further to see how fast it’s moving.”

  She nodded. They only had to go another 30 meters before they could see the edge of burning vegetation. Even with a breeze at their back, they felt the intense heat radiating from the molten rock. Fortunately, it wa
s moving very slowly.

  She pleaded, “We have to warn the others. My little sister and brother are in the hospital.”

  Josh nodded and handed her the walkie-talkie and AK-47.

  Looking surprised, she slung the rifle over her shoulder and spoke rapidly into the walkie-talkie. As they scrambled back through the forest, Josh asked, “What’s your name?”

  “Alejandra, but everyone calls me Chibcha.”

  Josh said, “Chinche?”

  She gave a little laugh, shaking her head. “No, that’s a bug.” She said slowly, “Chibcha. Chibcha are Indians like the Inca. There aren’t many of us left.”

  As they left the forest, Josh walked beside her and held out his hand. “I’m Josh. I’m part Indian too — Dakota Sioux from North America.” Or ... at least he was. He had no idea what genes he had now, but was sure there was Native American in there somewhere.

  She shook his hand and smiled. It was amazing what a smile could do. It transformed the stern guerilla into a pretty, young woman. No, not a woman. He guessed she was barely 17. He smiled. “Alejandra, a beautiful name to fit a beautiful lady.”

  Her smile turned shy.

  It tugged at Josh’s heart. He realized he’d never get to see his daughter turn into a young woman. As they jogged back to the makeshift hospital, he told her, “We’ll get your sister and brother out.”

  An SUV, driven by an older man wearing fatigues, met them at the door to the makeshift hospital. Clearly their leader, it was the same man Josh had seen when they arrived. He got out of the vehicle as Rodriguez and the other guard came outside.

  Alejandra, tripping over her words, gave them detailed information about the location and speed of the lava.

  The guerilla leader did a slow 360-degree scan and then said, “We’re on higher ground. The lava will roll downhill on each side of the village, but if it doesn’t stop, it will meet,” he nodded back toward the entrance road to the village, “at the only road out of town.”

  Calmly, but with passion, Rodriquez said, “We must evacuate the patients immediately.”