Dragons Awakening

A pink building rose up from behind the deciduous trees lining the narrow roadway. Roads in Italy were the size of a single lane in America. Or maybe the crush of traffic, blaring of horns, and shouting of pedestrians colored Akolo’s perspective. Either way, reaching their destination appealed more and more with every swerve and honk.

Akolo craned his neck. The vehicle circled around the museum. A magnificent stone stairway swept up to an entry flanked by four Roman columns. Bright windows flanked the doorway. The aura of ancient landmarks hushed the whine of the motor. The Land Rover stopped by a guard booth, where a traffic arm with a red sign blocked passage.

The driver shoved some paperwork and their passports to the guard. Another person inside the four-foot square building tapped on a computer screen. Akolo released a deep breath, leaning against his father’s seat. Around another bend, the vehicle stopped beside a long, mostly stucco building.

“When the EUSC joined the observatory twenty-five years ago, they built this larger facility. Before that, all the science happened on the upper floors of the museum.”

“In the pink building?” The question slipped out before Akolo could clamp his lips together.

The driver nodded. Akolo ducked out of the back seat, pushing the passenger door open. His father remained in the front, still scrolling through a list of figures on the tablet the driver had given him. Apparently the latest data from activity in the Pacific Rim.

They weren’t in Naples anymore. According to the sign, the center was actually in Herculaneum. A shudder assaulted his stomach. Wasn’t it bad luck to build over a city the volcano once buried beneath tons of ash?

“We’re here, Dad.” He tugged his father’s arm.

Dr. Duboff blinked several times, squinting at the sunlight reflecting off a window. He slid the tablet into the large bag he’d lugged through three airports. Akolo stepped back and shut the door after his father emerged.

The driver pulled open glass doors imprinted with the words “European Union Seismic Center and Vesuvius Observatory.” EUSCVO. Their destination at last.

Recirculated air chilled his face. Akolo inhaled the scent of old books and stale air. They entered a small reception area. Two sets of doors guarded by electronic locks offered exits. Or would that be entrance into the heart of the laboratory?

An older woman, olive skin aging well, stood up from behind a half-wall on the right. She smiled at the sight of the driver.

“Dr. Maddix Duboff?” At his father’s nod, the woman gushed, “We’re honored you joined us.”

Akolo looked around, wondering where the rest of the “we” were hiding. The room contained a few chairs, a table with media screens on its top, and a single door marked with male and female stick figures, restroom facilities.

“Let me notify Dr. Blunk of your arrival.”

Her accented English charmed Akolo more than her exuberant demeanor. Based on his experiences with Italians in the few hours since he’d arrived in their state, he surmised boisterous might be understating the personality of most. The receptionist pushed something on a screen in front of her and spoke more quietly into the thin air. Akolo squinted and saw a nearly invisible earpiece but nothing that might be a microphone. Something on the screen itself maybe?

He sidled out from behind his father to peer at the array of electronics on the woman’s desk. Her unblinking black-eyed glare halted his perusal.

“You must be the doctor’s son. Dr. Rokeni informed us you would be assisting your father.”

Just like Uncle Oke to see to all the details.

Akolo nodded, “His assistant, that’s right.” He liked the ring of it.

His father raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Even though Akolo hadn’t been able to prove the hypothesis he created on the plane, he was eager to learn more about the eruptions. If he had to be here, he might as well find a way to be engaged. Staying beside his father was the biggest thing, keeping him on track and away from alcohol.

“I’ll need you to sign for your key cards.” The receptionist pointed to a gadget no larger than a bookmark resting on the far right of the counter top. “First for yours and then your son’s.”

His father picked up a pen-shaped stylus and signed on the screen. Two times. Akolo might carry around the title of assistant, but it obviously didn’t give him authority to sign for important things. Like keys.

The woman turned a mega-watt smile toward his father. “Now if I can get the correct spelling of your names, first and last, so the identification badges will be accurate.”

The black box on the left-hand door flashed. Akolo sidled away from his father, gaze locked on the gateway into the heart of the research center. A moment later, the heavy gray door swung open, admitting a white-coated woman, maybe in her thirties.

Her straight brown hair, held back by a cloth wrap, barely brushed the collar of her lab coat. Black-rimmed glasses exaggerated her wide, dark-chocolate-colored eyes. Her sharp features and stern lips sent Akolo’s heart into a nosedive. Talk about winning the mean teacher award.

“Don’t judge based on appearances,” his mother’s voice whispered. Akolo swallowed his nerves. Looks weren’t everything. After all, those girls who had lived in their house the past two years all seemed like wholesome college students. Akolo knew better.

The female scientist walked toward the counter. Her navy blue skirt whispered around her knees with each step. A tablet tucked beneath her left arm, she extended her right.

“Happy to have you join the team.” If that was her happy face, Akolo didn’t want to see her angry.

Akolo blinked while his father wiped his right palm along his khakis before shaking her hand. “Dr. Maddix Duboff.”

“Relieved, actually,” she continued, dropping his hand a beat after the shake. “About time I worked with an expert who understands the connection between seismic and volcanic readings.”

His father nodded. “You have updated figures?”

Dr. Blunk’s eyes narrowed slightly as she scanned Akolo. Did the Aloha shirt seem too casual? It might be the black golf shorts. “And you are?” Her brown eyes bored into his skull.

“Akolo. I’ve been helping my dad organize the data. Even made a few postulations about what precedes the anomalous eruptions.”

She raised a thin eyebrow. Maybe he should have called his father Dr. Duboff, so he sounded more professional.

“My son will be assisting me.” His father’s words drew Dr. Blunk’s attention. Akolo’s shoulder’s sagged. “If you get me the most recent readings, I’ll be up to speed with the situation by tomorrow.” His father straightened his spine.

“We need to be able to predict the next major event,” Dr. Blunk said, turning to lead the way deeper into the facility, back through the locked door.

“And you have the seismic data, as well? Anything new on that front while I was flying here?”

“More rumblings in the Himalayas. Will that information help you predict anything?

“Hard to say.” The computer bag thumped against his father’s thigh with every step.

“It’s past time for us to figure out how to predict these catastrophic eruptions.” Dr. Blunk paused outside a door labeled: Vulcanology Data Center. “Preferably in time to evacuate the area. The center is within range of a major eruption.”

Akolo shivered at the thought of a major eruption from Vesuvius. Everyone knew about Pompeii’s burial two thousand years before.

“The eruption of Kilauea was atypical, and the eruption in Chile seems to be linked.” Dad was warming to the subject now. Akolo followed on the heels of the two scientists. “We should consider the possibility that a different class of eruption could be brewing.”

Dr. Blunk’s rubber-soled shoes stopped their squeaky march in front of another locked door. “Which has nothing to do with finding a pattern and predicting events.”

“Kilauea’s eruption acted nothing like other Hawaiian events. It’s the worst thing recorded in the islands. Ever.”

While pulling the door open, Dr. Blunk leveled a cold stare at his father. “There is nothing worse than a Plinian eruption.” Which is why they built their observatory within range of the most famous producer of such eruptions?

A chill surfed down Akolo’s spine. Dr. Blunk was a force to be reckoned with in this place.

“A combined eruption,” his father said, walking through the open door into the chaos of a dozen live volcano feeds.

“Combinations happen all the time.”

The irregularities in Hawaii and Alaska indicated such combinations had been increasing in frequency and severity. Akolo opened his mouth to volunteer the information but his father beat him to it.

Akolo caught the door, covering his yawn with the opposite hand. So far, so good. His father had stepped right into his role as scientist, and the pushy woman vulcanologist looked like a perfect accomplice.