Wrath of the Volcano God Part Two

 

WRATH OF THE VOLCANO GOD

A Pulp Adventure

Part Two

It was a short drop to a rude landing on a leafy hillside.  Then they rolled downhill, an avalanche of explorers, into a shadowy gulley.

Amid a chorus of moans and curses, Lewis stood up, reached out to help Sarah to her feet and asked, "Everyone all right?"  Suddenly, Bethany cried out in pain.  "What's the matter?" Lewis asked, as he stepped toward her.

Then a sleek and shiny reptilian head emerged from the undergrowth.  Sarah screamed at its sudden appearance, Ethan and Wayne gasped.  Bethany grabbed her arm, suddenly bleeding from two puncture marks.  Lewis froze in place as the snake raised up high enough to look him in the eye.  It was a great green monster with wide brown spots, sharp fangs, and an evil gleam in its yellow eyes.

The snake, swaying, hissed.  Lewis opened his hands in slow deliberation.  With sweat glistening from his forehead, his muscles tightened as he readied himself to grab the animal just behind its head.

As if sensing his intentions, the snake hissed and lunged forward.  A thundercrack sounded, blood erupted from the side of the snake's head, and it dropped heavily into the underbrush.  With a cry of panic, Lewis fell backward, and found himself sitting on the jungle floor, momentarily confused at what had just happened.

"Good shot!" Ethan exclaimed.

Wayne blew the smoke away from the barrel of his gun and holstered it.  "Tweren't nuthin'," he casually replied.

Sarah stared with horrified eyes.  "B-Bethany?"

Lewis sprang to the fallen woman's side.  Already she looked pale and red rings were developing around her eyes.  With haste, he peeled her out of her safari jacket and rolled up the sleeve of her shirt where he found two red dots puckered and swollen just below her elbow.  Without hesitation, he brought the wound to his lips and made a desperate attempt to suck out the venom.

After a few long minutes, it was obvious to them all that this noble effort was not working.  Bethany swooned as Lewis spat and wiped his lips for the final time.  "Who's got the snakebite kit?" he demanded.

His companions scrambled through their packs, but were dismayed to find no snakebite kit or any first aid supplies at all.

"Carlsbad!" Wayne spat, "He and Klugman must've swiped ém 'fore they left us to die!"

With a gasp, Sarah placed one hand on Lewis' shoulder.  "What do we do now?"

Lewis weighed the few options at hand, and made a decision.  "We still have to head for that ship, it's our only hope."  He stood up, lifted Bethany's limp body into his arms.  He looked around; found they had fallen into a deep valley with foliage covering the rocky walls.  He couldn't see the sky from here, and shadows were too thick to determine the sun's position.  But his trusted sense of direction told him that following the valley would lead them toward the beach.  "Come on," he said, and started marching.

*  *  *

Nearly an hour later, Lewis had been proven correct.  The valley opened onto a wide beach of white sand.  The valley was a gap in a long cave-riddled cliff wall that ran along the inland edge of the beach.  The sandy beach stretched on for as long as they could see, boulders were scattered along the way, and a line of jetsam showed them how high the surf ventured.  A few yards away the skeleton of some great jungle cat jutted up from the sands.  Further down the beach they could easily see more bones in the sand, too distant to tell what animal they belonged to.

The boat sat not far offshore, parallel to the coastline.  A long, segmented gangplank stretched from the pale sand to the squalid ship.  It was a small cargo vessel bearing the name of Josephine's Joy across the bow.  The boat was stained by the salt water, and needed a good scrubbing.  It looked better suited to safe routes along coasts or between island chains than to a long voyage over a treacherous ocean.

Wayne hummed thoughtfully.  "Well, she ain't the purdiest sight I ever did see, and she don't seem to set quite even in the water."

It was true, the ship's bow sat low in the water as though weighted down by a heavy load.

"Ahoy!" Lewis cried out, "Ahoy on the boat!"  They waited for a long moment, but there was no reply.  He called out a second time, "Ahoy there!"  After another moment there was still no answer.  With a shrug, Lewis mounted the gangplank with the poisoned girl still in his tired arms.  "Come on, we've no time to wait for invitations."  His companions all followed him onto the deck.  "Split up, look for crewmen, for parts, and especially some first aid supplies!"

Ethan, Wayne and Sarah all rushed off in different directions as Lewis carried Bethany into the nearest door.  He hefted her down a short stairway and found a door-lined hallway.  The first door he came to proved to be some crewman's cabin, and he laid the woman down on the bunk.  He lifted her heavy eyelid and peered into her unseeing eye.  He placed one hand below her nostrils and felt her weakened breath.  Then he stood, rubbed some life back into his own arms, and Lewis bolted out the cabin door on the prowl for a remedy.

*  *  *

Wayne descended a narrow stairway and found himself in the hold where sunlight poured in from the open cargo doors on the main deck.  He reached up under his hat and scratched his head, perplexed.  "I was sure I was headed for the sailors' barracks."  He shrugged it off and began to explore the crates he found instead.

He found two crates filled with rolls of fabric, and half a dozen filled with dark rocks about the size of housecats.  A quartet of rusting metal drums lined the wall, all unmarked but filled with an unknown liquid.

In the far corner of the hold, he found two small crates, each one about a foot wide and two feet long.  He pried the lid off of one and whistled in surprise at the red sticks of dynamite packed in the dry grasses.  Wayne pulled one out for a closer look, and whistled again.  "Well, would ya lookie here?"

*  *  *

Sarah Turnbull rushed along the deck, pulled open the first cabin door that she came to.  It revealed a short hallway lined with a handful of doors.  A door at the far end flung open and she gasped as Ethan stepped through the portal.

He blinked at her, plucked the dangling cigarette from his lips.  "You all right?"

"You startled me!" she announced as she stepped into the hallway and pulled the portal closed behind her.

He shrugged an apology, pulled open the first door he approached.  He pointed down into the door.  "Stairs," he told her.  "I'm gonna check it out."

"I'll look around up here," Sarah replied.  With a nod, Ethan ventured down the stairs, and the door fell shut behind him.  She noted the doors and the corridor that branched off to her left, then reached for the nearest door handle.

At first she thought she had stumbled upon a cramped storage room with a low table and a cabinet blocked by a stack of crates.  A moment's study revealed the low table against the far wall was in fact a bunk, littered with a toppled stack of cardboard boxes.  A crate stood in the center of the room, smaller wooden boxes stacked atop it were partially covered with a threadbare blanket.  She pushed the column of containers aside and found the door of a free-standing cabinet.

Within it she found a short stack of dingy cloths, a half-dozen open boxes, a few rolls of bandages, two open bottles of demon rum, a half-bottle of aspirin, and a bottle of yellow liquid labeled "Anti-Venom".  Sarah plucked the vial from the shelf and regarded it with giddy glee.  She opened the cabinet's second door and saw a gruesome collection of surgical instruments, and among them was a syringe.

Her prizes well in hand, Sarah burst from the squalid little sick bay and rushed back onto the deck, calling for Lewis Clark.

*  *  *

Ethan Clapsaddle descended the stairs and found himself in a dimly lit engine room.  He took slow steps over to the main engine and leaned in for a curious look at the grimy machine.  He shrugged and turned around to survey the chamber.  A few wrenches and a hammer lay along the floor grating, away from their mates hanging on a wall.  A free-standing cabinet stood against the wall across from the stairs, its door ajar with a piston rod sticking out.

He crossed to the cabinet, flung open the door.  A shelf near the top and the floor were littered with gears, pulley arms, and other pieces while belts and coiled hoses hung from hooks beneath the shelf. 

"Jackpot!" the pilot exclaimed as he slipped off his pack.  He grabbed a replacement hose and few other choice parts and stuffed them into his backpack.  He started for the stairs, pulling the pack up one arm when he paused.  He grabbed a few tools from the wall and secreted them in his pack before slipping it back to his shoulders.  "The Goose shall fly again!" he announced through a manic grin.

*  *  *

Sarah flung open the door, found the wheelhouse.  Lewis looked up, startled.  "Sarah!  I think I found the Captain's logbook!"  He held up a booklet with a cracked leather cover.

"I think I've found the medicine we need for Bethany!" the young woman breathlessly replied.

"Come on, we've no time to lose!" Lewis exclaimed as he charged past her with the book still in his hands.  The two ran back to the cabins, and found Bethany's pale body still lying on the bunk.

He slammed the logbook on a nearby table, took the items from Sarah.  He filled the needle with the curative, and injected it into his patient's arm. 

A mere moment passed before Sarah asked her urgent questions:  "Will it work?  How long before she wakes up?"

Lewis shrugged.  "It depends...on far too many things."  He pulled back one of Bethany's eyelids and frowned into her brown eye; then pressed his fingers against her neck to check her pulse.   "There ought to be some food or water around somewhere.  See if you can find a galley.  When she does wake up, she'll need to replenish her strength."

"Right away!" she nodded and ran from the room.

Again, Lewis checked his patient's pulse, peered into her eye.  With a worrisome frown, he sat in the cabin's only chair and idly perused the most recent entries of the Captain's Log as he waited.

*  *  *

As Wayne and Ethan slowly worked their way back to the main deck, Sarah found the ship's galley.  A stove and counter line one wall, cluttered with dirty dishes and pans, while the other was lined with cabinets.  A large barrel stood beside the counter, a heavy ladle resting on top.  When she lifted the lid she found it half full of fresh water.  Her smile was fleeting, and she set about searching through the cabinets in search of some drinking vessel and whatever foodstuffs she could find.  She opened door after door in her frantic search, until she slammed one door closed and suddenly found Igor Klugman's scowling face beside her.

Sarah screamed as she bolted, but the big man was too quick for her.  His beefy hands seized her backpack, pulled her back, away from the door.  Suddenly one of his meat hooks slapped over her mouth, stifling her screams as she reached out for some handhold that she might use to pull herself from his grasp.

Her fingers wrapped around a handle, but instead of impeding her kidnapping, she pulled the cast-iron skillet from the stove.  Sarah looked at it with panicked eyes, and the object didn't fully register in her mind.  She only knew that it was not what she sought, an instant later her instinct took over and she swung the heavy pan over her shoulder.

The iron pan struck the brute's forehead with a thwack.   One hand released her, pressed against the pain instead.  Sarah tried to run, but one of his heavy hands was still clamped around her arm.  She spun about, flung the pan up to the other side of his head.  Igor wailed in agony and she was free!  Without hesitation, she dropped the skillet, which fell to the floorboards with a clang, and burst through the galley door screaming for help.

*  *  *

Lewis looked up from the Captains Log as he heard Sarah screaming out on deck.  He rushed out to learn the cause of her panic. 

"Mr. Klugman is here!" she cried, "He just assaulted me in the galley!"

"That means Everard's here, too," Lewis declared.  "We'd better get off this boat."

"But...Miss Gale..." the young woman stammered.

"Come on!"

The two rushed back to the cabin and once more Lewis picked up the prone woman and carried her in his arms.  The exited out to the deck and started for the gangplank.

"Stop right there!"  They both recognized the oily voice behind them.  "Turn around."  Lewis and Sarah turned and found Dr. Everard Carlsbad with a pistol trained on them.  "I see now why you insisted on having Clapsaddle as our pilot.  He handled that landing, most deftly!  I daresay very few would perform half as well!"

Lewis tried to offer a gracious smile as Sarah cowered behind him.  "I'll be sure to pass on the compliment."

Carlsbad nodded.  "However Lewis, the fact remains that none of you were expecting to survive what was meant to be a crash."

"Lucky for you that we did," Lewis said as he hefted the girl in his arms.  "There doesn't seem to be anyone aboard this ship.  Looking over the Captain's Log, it seems to me they ran afoul of the local natives.  You know perfectly well that the Kazoolis don't like outsiders in their territory.  Looks like the ride home you planned has been cancelled!"

Carlsbad sneered at the setback.  "Indeed.  But no matter.  Once I've recovered the Heart of Tiki-Taki, we can easily repair the plane and return to civilization."

Lewis brandished a friendly smile.  "Now Ev, you know I can't let you do that."

Carlsbad narrowed his eyes, raised the pistol.  "Yes, I fully expect you to be trouble.  As I said, you were all meant to be dead by now."  He pulled back the hammer on his revolver with a loud click.

As Lewis and Carlsbad talked, Bethany lolled her groggy head toward their assailant.  Her bleary eyes focused and a heavy brow formed.  Her leg shot out, knocked the revolver from the Doctor's hand.  In a flash, Lewis spun about, placed Bethany's unsteady feet on the planks and dropped her into Sarah's arms.  He spun back and his fist flew into Carlsbad's face.

Sarah slowly dragged the poisoned girl down the gangplank as Lewis and Carlsbad traded blows. 

Klugman stumbled out of the galley, one hand pressed against his head.  Anger burned in his beady eyes as he spotted the girl escaping down the gangplank burdened by the other woman's weight.  He started to pursue, but rounded a corner and saw the fistfight on the main deck.  Klugman came to the aid of his boss.

Lewis pulled back for another swing, but someone caught his fist before he could let it fly.  He turned and found Klugman standing over him, his Cro-Magnon brow hung low over his angry eyes.  Klugman was like a wall, almost a foot taller and twice as wide as the smaller man.  Lewis dropped a weary sigh.

One hit knocked Lewis off his feet.  He lay sprawled on the deck beside the opening to the cargo hold.  Growling like an animal, Klugman reached down and pulled him back to his feet.  Raised his meaty fist to deliver another strike.

Ethan came out of nowhere, swung a pipe wrench in his friend's defense, but only smashed the brute's heavy backpack.  Klugman seemed to lose interest in his prey, turned and glared at the pilot, who whimpered in regret.

Undaunted, Lewis jumped up on the giant's back.  But already weakened from fighting, the large man had no trouble shrugging him off.  Lewis landed on his feet, and a stack of coiled rope dropped over his head and bound his arms.  The sudden weight threw him off-balance and he fell.  Looking up from the deck he saw Carlsbad wiping his hands as he sneered down and gloated, "Don't move."

Carlsbad sauntered across the planks, plucked his revolver from where it had settled beside the ship's railing.  "This is the end of your meddlesome career, Mr. Clark!" he sneered as he pointed the gun at the man tangled in the rope. 

A shot rang out, and Carlsbad frown down at the pistol in confusion as he had yet to squeeze the trigger.

Instead, a rope snapped on the ship's hoist.  It's heavy arm swung in a wide arc overhead, dragging its iron hook through the air and across the main deck.  The heavy hook flew a few short feet over Lewis as he struggled with the ropes.  Carlsbad looked up with wide eyes just before the iron hook slammed into him, driving him over the rail, screaming into the water below.

Wayne Johnson stepped around the corner, the last wisps of smoke still wafting from the barrel of his revolver.  His keen eyes quickly surveyed the scene:  Lewis, tangled in a heavy coil of rope, lay on the deck beside the open cargo doors and Ethan engaged in a losing battle with Carlsbad's mammoth henchman.

Ethan launched his fists at the oncoming brute, but his punches had no effect.  With a predatory grunt, Klugman lunged forward, seized the pilot in his meaty mitts, and raised the small man high over his head.  With a savage but wordless cry, Klugman stomped toward the nearest railing.

Wayne's gun pivoted towards the hulking brute, barked off a warning shot.  "Put 'im down, Klugman!"  The big man continued on as though he didn't hear, so Wayne fired another shot that ricocheted off the ship's rail.  "I said put 'im down!  I ain't playin'!"

But Carlsbad's lackey ignored him.

Grumbling in exasperation, Wayne holstered his gun.  He crossed the deck to join Lewis as he pulled forth a stick of dynamite and a match. 

"Klugman!" he cried, "You do as I say or I'll blow your sorry hide to smithereens!"

Klugman arrived at the railing, stopped dead in his tracks.  He turned around, glared at the misplaced cowboy.

"I mean it!" Wayne told him.  Klugman stared on in silence.  Wayne struck the match, held it to the fuse.

The meanness and anger left Klugman's face, replaced with an unmistakable mortal dread.  A whimper escaped his lips as his mind raced in search of a suitable counter-move.  None came to him.  His panic grew as he watched the fuse grow shorter.  At last he could no longer stand his own inaction.  He threw the pilot through the air and hit his mark, dropping Wayne onto the deck, and the dynamite down to the hold.  Klugman shrieked in fear and launched himself over the ship's rail.  He landed in the water with a graceless splash.

Wayne scrambled to his feet, peered down into the cargo hold with a wide-eyed fear he hadn't known since the stampede on Old Man Bodine's ranch.  "We gotta go!" he announced, "There's a whole mess o' dynamite down there, this ship's gonna blow!"

To Be Continued...