Wrath of the Volcano God Part One

 

WRATH OF THE VOLCANO GOD

A Pulp Adventure

Part One

Igor Klugman was a hulking brute of a man.  He had a low, heavy brow over his cruel beady eyes, a flat nose and a mouth that was naturally inclined to grimace.  He was in the rear compartment of a small cargo plane.  His wide-shouldered frame would have found these to be cramped quarters even if the compartment had been empty.  Instead, he was further crowded with boxes, trunks, and cases of equipment for the island expedition.

But these supplies were not his goal.  He shuffled the boxes aside until he found the rear wall of the compartment.  There, he used his knife to pry loose a panel which revealed a tangle of hoses and wires.  He glared at them, grimaced, and cut one of the hoses.

With a nod of satisfaction, he turned away from the open panel.  He gathered up the parachutes and dropped them in an untidy pile by the door.  Then he grabbed two of the backpacks and dropped them at his side.  Ready now, he opened the door and peered into the passenger compartment.

*  *  *

Lewis Clark adjusted his hat and looked around the cabin.  Wayne Johnson slumped in his seat, leaned heavily against the side wall with his own hat pulled down over his eyes.  Bethany Gale and Sarah Turnbull poured over the ragged canvas map.  Dr. Everard Carlsbad ran one thumb and forefinger across his waxed mustache as he peered back at the door to the cargo hold.  His thin, angular face snapped toward the cockpit when Ethan Clapsaddle, the pilot, called back, "We're approaching the island!  I'll circle around so we can get a look at the place!"

Bethany and Sarah turned to peer out the dirty window.  Lewis turned away from his fellow passengers and looked down at the lush Pacific island with appraising eyes.  It was Tiaganu Island, a shapeless mass of earth like a splatter from an artist's brush.  A blanket of thick green foliage covered the wide mass of the island, bookended with a stretch of white sand on either side and topped with the smoking volcano surrounded by a modest entourage of rocky foothills on the north side.

Sarah gave a shriek as she was pulled from her seat and Lewis stood and turned to find the young woman in Klugman's thick arms.  Carlsbad had pulled his revolver, and smirked as he stood.  "Now that we've arrived, I think there is no need to prolong our partnership.  So, if you'd be so kind as to hand over that map, Igor and I have made different arrangements."  He held one hand out toward Bethany.

Bethany narrowed her eyes, her teeth clenched in a contemptuous sneer.  "I knew it!  I knew we couldn't trust him!" she barked.  "I told you what happened in the Yukon!"

Carlsbad grinned an oily grin.  "Tut-tut, Miss Gale.  It was nothing personal.  Just business."  He waved his fingers in a come-hither motion and added, "The map, please."

Bethany growled in reply, her fists—crushing the fragile map—shook with uncontrollable anger.  Then, the engines of the plane sputtered and the propellers came to a stop.  "Uh…everything's just fine," the pilot lied, his voice tainted with panic.

"We've really no time to debate this," Carlsbad stated.  "You turn over the map, or my man Igor will be forced to put young Miss Turnbull in a state of great discomfort."

Lewis held both hands out in a placating gesture.  "Now Everard, there's no need for this.  We worked it all out back in Honalulu.  We all agreed to let bygones be bygones and work together on this one.  So why not just let Miss Sarah alone, and we can all forget this happened and go back to being friends?  What do ya say?"  As he spoke he slowly stepped out into the aisle and casually advanced.

Carlsbad snapped his fingers and barked, "Igor!"  At the sound of his name, Klugman squeezed the girl in his arms like a doll.  Sarah quickly groaned in the viselike bear-hug and Lewis froze in his tracks.

"All right, Everard, you win!" Lewis cried.  He turned to Bethany and said, "Give him the map."

She glared over her shoulder at him.  "I told you we couldn't trust him!"  With reluctance, she held out the scrap of canvas and Carlsbad plucked it from her fist.

"Thank you," he cooed as he stepped back from her.  He took the girl from his lackey's brutish arms and buried his revolver in her back.  "I'm afraid we'll be leaving you now.  Igor!"

With a nod, Klugman flung open the exit door, causing a rush of air through the compartment.  Then Klugman opened the door to the cargo area, pulled forth all but two of the parachutes and chucked them out into the open sky.  He slung one parachute onto his back and again took Sarah in his beefy arms.

Carslbad slipped into the last remaining 'chute and waved at the other passengers.  "Well, I'm off to steal a lovely Heart.  Goodbye forever!"  With those apt parting words, he jumped out of the plane.

Igor Klugman pushed Sarah up the aisle; she stumbled and fell into Lewis' arms.  Then the hulking henchman grabbed a backpack in each hand, and stepped out of the plane, following his master.

Bethany jumped to the open doorway in the plane's side, leaned out, and shook her fist while shouting curses after the two villains.  "Close the door!" Lewis shouted to her.  She reached out, strained against the onrushing air.  But the air was too strong and pulled the door from her grasp.

Lewis pulled himself up the aisle to help her as the pilot called back, "What's going on back there?"

Sarah climbed up the aisle to the cockpit.  "Ethan, Dr. Carlsbad has double-crossed us!" she cried.  "They forced us to hand over the map, then they jumped from the plane, taking all of the parachutes with them!"

Lewis and Bethany leaned into the cockpit.  "Can you get the engines started again?" Bethany demanded.

"No," Ethan replied, causing the cigarette in the corner of his mouth to drop half its length of ash onto his chest.  "I'm guessing that's more of Carlsbad's handiwork."

"More likely his lackey, Igor," Lewis corrected.

"I swear, Lewis, every time I take you anywhere, something happens to my plane!" Ethan complained.

"Are we going to crash?" Sarah asked urgently, her blue eyes bright with fear.

"No, I don't think so," Ethan said as he strained against the control stick.  "I think I can bring 'er down safe enough in that wide bay."

"That-a-boy, Clap!" Lewis smiled as he patted the pilot's shoulder.

"I'm not talking to you!" Ethan cried through gritted teeth as he wrestled with the controls.  "But you should all go strap yourselves in."  The three of them hurried back to their seats and pulled on their seatbelts.

The Grumman Goose banked low in the tropical sky, descending upon the circular bay nestled between two of the island's arms.  It was thirty-eight-and-a-half feet of forward momentum; a fat yellow-orange bird that belly-flopped down on the water with no grace at all.  It sliced through the bay, shooting spray into the air and leaving a churning trail in its wake.  The yellow plane drew nearer to the jungle-covered land and turned to the right, skirting the shoreline until it finally lurched to a halt.

Ethan released the control stick, flexed his fingers, slumped in the pilot's chair.  He threw his cigarette butt out the window, lit a fresh one with his lighter and inhaled deeply.  Behind him, a cheer erupted from the passenger compartment as Lewis, Bethany and Sarah rejoiced.

With a snort, Wayne Johnson sat up in his seat, pushed his Stetson up to the crown of his head and looked about with bleary brown eyes.  "Oh, are we there all ready?" he yawned.

*  *  *

Wayne stood in the inflatable raft, floating by the Grumman's open door.  Bethany stood in the cargo compartment, passing packs and equipment to Lewis, who then passed it to Wayne to stow in the raft.  Sarah checked her own equipment, chiefly her Kodak Junior Six-16 and its accessories.  Satisfied they were undamaged, she slung the camera case round her shoulder, slipped four rolls of film in one pocket and a pack of flash bulbs in another.  Meanwhile, Ethan climbed across the plane from one engine to the other searching for the signs of sabotage.

"That's the last of it," Bethany said as she handed over the last pack.

Lewis nodded, leaned out to hand the pack off to Wayne.  Then Lewis cupped one hand beside his mouth and called out to the pilot:  "Clap!  We're about ready down here!"

"I'm not talking to you," Ethan called back as he appeared atop the wing.  "What have you got against my planes, anyway?"

"Aw, come on, Clap…"

"You remember what happened to the Bluebird?" Ethan said accusingly.

"That was a storm!" a defensive tone had overtaken Lewis' voice.

"And don't get me started about the Goldfinch!" Ethan continued.

"Now that wasn't my fault at all!" Lewis countered.

"Now we can add the Golden Goose to your list of victims!" the pilot scolded.

"Could ya figger out what them bushwhackers did or not?" Wayne interjected.

"Yeah, near as I can tell, all they did was cut the fuel line in the back of the cargo compartment.  The engines themselves are fine," Ethan told them.  "If we had a way to fix the fuel line, we ought to be able to fly right out of here."

"Haven't you got any tools or spare parts?" Sarah asked with sincere wonder.

Ethan dropped a heavy sigh, then smiled wryly and gestured toward Lewis.  "No.  Someone asked me to make as much spare room as possible for the expedition supplies."

Lewis turned and scanned the horizon with a hawk-like gaze.  "All right, all right, quit yer grousing," he said.  "As we came around the island I spotted an old tramp steamer off the eastern beach."

"What do you reckon brought them here?" Wayne asked.

Lewis shook his head.  "I don't know, but they might be able to help us out.  If I can only get my bearings, I'm sure we could find it."

Bethany handed him a rough bit of crudely folded brown paper.  He took the scrap, unfolded and frowned down at it in bewilderment.  "What's this?"

"I made a copy of the map," she said flatly.  "I knew better than to trust Carlsbad, even if you didn't."

"Excellent!  That means we ought to be here…"  He jabbed his finger at a spot between two squiggles that may have been land masses or tentacles.  "So if we cut across this peninsula, we ought to get to that beach in just a few hours."

Bethany placed one hand on his arm.  "Why would anyone else be out here?  And why would they help us?"

Lewis shrugged.  "I don't know.  But I'm hoping they'll have some useful parts that they're willing to trade.  If not, we should be able to arrange a ride back to civilization, where we know we can get parts."  His eyes flashed up towards the pilot then back to the woman and he continued in a louder voice.  "Then we can come back, fix the plane and fly right out of here!"

Ethan's face emerged from behind the wing.  "You mean it?"

Lewis smiled up at him.  "Clap, I swear to you here and now, the Golden Goose shall fly again!"

*  *  *

Ethan Clapsaddle was five feet and ten inches of complaints and underdeveloped muscles.  His skinny frame was hidden beneath his leather bomber's jacket, and though not overburdened by his natural body weight he was unaccustomed to the rigors of hiking through the jungle.  It was no help that he perpetually had a cigarette jutting from the corner of his mouth, a long-standing habit told by the yellowing of his fingertips and teeth.  He huffed and puffed as he diligently marched with the others, whining about the Golden Goose and the fates of other planes he had owned in the past.

Finally, Bethany could stand it no more.  "Would you shut up about your stupid plane!" she barked.  "We've got to find out what happened to Carlsbad, and stop him from stealing the Heart of Tiki-Taki!"

"Ooh, that would be wonderful, wouldn't it?" Sarah said airily.

"What?"

"I mean, concrete evidence of the cult of the Volcano God!" she couldn't contain her excitement at the prospect.  "That's what we're here for, after all!"

"Maybe so, but your father done sent us here to collect facts for the university and relics for the museum, not to be robbin' no temples for personal gain," Wayne reminded her as they marched through the brush.

Sarah's face clouded over and a worrisome frown bent over her clear blue eyes.  "You don't really think Dr. Carlsbad would do such a thing?"

"You do remember he pulled a gun on you just to get away with the map?" Bethany barked in response.  "If he gets that ruby, he's sure to hock it for as much as he can get!"

"We mustn't let that happen!  Mr. Clark…" Sarah stumbled, the thick foliage beneath her feet stretched, bent beneath her weight.

Lewis held up one hand and called for them to "Stop!"  He frowned down at the thick layer of plant life they were traversing.  "I think we have a more pressing problem."

"What is it, Lew?" the pilot asked.  As he took a step forward the leaves and vines sank with his weight, but held.  It was an odd sensation, like walking across a trampoline.

"This ground sure feels funny," Wayne commented.

"I don't think we're on solid ground," Lewis told them.  "I think we've wandered onto a blanket of foliage, so thick that it looks like the jungle floor, but is actually suspended—almost like a hammock—over a depression or gulley of some kind."

Everyone froze in place, stretching out their arms to maintain their balance.

"What do we do now?" Sarah asked with unmasked worry in her tone.

"Back up," Lewis commanded, "Very carefully.  One wrong step and…"

A vine snapped.  In an instant the foliage beneath them unraveled, and they fell...

To Be Continued...