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| A work in progress. Chapters will be posted as they are written. |
Let me start at the beginning, seeing as how I believe I may be the last one alive on this mountain. What was left of the team tried to escape to the south, but I fear the eruption a few minutes ago may have killed them.
I met Professor Eugene Upwight, from the University of Washington, in Seattle. He was looking for a Security Specialist. I had spent five tours in Afghanistan leading a great bunch of Special Forces guys. But, upon leaving the Army, I found my skill set was of little use in the real world. A friend had set up the interview with the Professor for me.
We met for lunch at a restaurant next to the Ferry Terminal, Ivar’s Fish Bar. The restaurant had a walk-up bar facing the sidewalk for take-out, or tables to eat at along the pier. An upscale indoor restaurant was also attached. I was living in Bremerton, Washington, which was on the other side of the bay from Seattle. I stepped off the ferry into the noise of the big city. The entrance to the restaurant was maybe two hundred feet from the terminal. I had never met Professor Upwight, so I was hoping he was there and had left a message with the maître d’ for me.
The maître d’ met me promptly and asked if I had a reservation. “No, I’m meeting Professor Upwight here.”
He smiled and turned. “Follow me, sir.”
Upwight looked every bit the part of a professor. He was heavyset, six feet tall, with long hair pulled back in a ponytail. He was maybe older than I thought, but he looked to be in his late forties. A few gray hairs curled over his ears, but his face showed few wrinkles. All in all, he was a very good-looking man.
I put out my hand and said, “Professor Upwight, I’m Arnold Stone. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He didn’t stand, but took my hand in his. “Mr. Stone, I’m so glad you could make it. Please sit. I haven’t ordered yet. They have an oyster soup that is to die for.”
We ordered two soups and two bottles of Rainier Beer. While we waited, Upwight asked, “I was told you speak Russian. Is that true?”
I grinned and shook my head. “Let me put it this way, Professor. If we were in a group of Russians, I’d be able to understand them, and they’d be able to understand me. But I would never be able to have them believe I was Russian.”
He waved his hand in the air as if to dismiss the idea. “I’m not looking for a spy, just someone that can communicate with the locals.”
I took a drink of beer as the waiter placed a bowl of soup in front of each of us. I asked, “Am I to believe this job will be in Russia?”
Upwight took three or four spoons of his soup and pushed the bowl aside. “There’s a volcano by the name of Elbrus in the Caucasus Mountains, in southwest Russia. It has been over two thousand years since it erupted, but it began to belch smoke last week and the Russians are concerned. They will have a team on the east side of the mountain, and we will be on the west side. Does that sound like something you would want to be involved in?”
I finished my beer and said, “To be honest with you, I have nothing else going on right now. If you’ll have me, it would be my pleasure to provide you with security on your trip.”
“Welcome aboard, Mr. Stone.”
“Please call me ‘Hap’.”
A week later I met the team in front of the science building at the University. I had grown up in the middle of Texas, in Waco. There couldn’t be more of a contrast with Washington State than Waco, Texas. Here was green everywhere, and very little green anywhere in Waco.
I dropped my duffle bag next to the others’ suitcases. Upwight grabbed my hand and pumped it. “This is Arnold Stone, everybody, but he wishes to be called ‘Hap’. Hap will be in charge of our security. He speaks Russian, which makes him also our interpreter.”
The first to walk up was the Professor’s assistant, Mary Ann Fargo. “We’re happy you’re coming with us. It will make our job so much easier.”
Her hand was warm and soft. She was about five-six, tall for a woman. Her brown hair was pulled back in a bun. Her deep blue eyes seemed to search my face, making me feel uncomfortable, especially because she was as attractive as she was, so I was glad when she moved on.
The next was Jake Wells. He was one of three students on the trip. He was short and skinny, with large black-rim glasses.
Next was the only black person on the team, Jerome Tate. He looked more like a fullback than a Volcanologist. He smiled, shook my hand, and began loading the bags into the big blue van that had just pulled up.
The last was Judith Wade. She was small; you could even say she was petite. She never looked up as she shook my hand and mumbled her welcome.
The van was a three-seater. The Professor was up front with the driver. On the second seat were Mary, Judith, and Jake. Jerome and I had the rear seat to ourselves. We were driving to Vancouver, Canada, to catch a Russian Aeroflot flight to Moscow.
At the airport, Customs was a pain in the ass. They went through every bag. I have no idea what they were looking for, but they didn’t find it. We boarded an Airbus A321, which was only half full. They said we could pick our seats. Jerome and I picked a three-seater. He sat next to the window and I sat on the aisle, with an empty seat between us.
The Airbus is built by the British and is one of the largest passenger planes flying. I had hoped we would be flying on a Sukhoi Superjet 100 that the Russians have. But I couldn’t complain about the service: the food was very good and the drinks were free as long as you liked vodka—which I did.
We all fell asleep somewhere over the North Pole and awoke at the sound of the pilot announcing we would be landing in Moscow in forty-five minutes. He warned us it would be cold and windy. The Professor had prepared for the cold weather and had Arctic Coats for everybody waiting in baggage. Also waiting in baggage would be a lot of boxes that had been shipped ahead of our departure. They held everything believed necessary for us to survive in the wilderness.
Coming into the concourse, we were met by some officials with black coats and fuzzy hats. In the old days, they would have been called KGB agents. Now they were just the greeting party.
I moved ahead and spoke to the men in Russian. Then I came back to the group. “They say we will not have to go through Customs. They have two cars waiting to take us to a military base. Then tomorrow morning we will board a Mi Mi-26 heavy-duty transport helicopter for a four-hour trip to the Elbrus Volcano. I told them we needed to get our coats from the supply shipment. They’re taking us there now. Then a truck will bring the bags and boxes to the base and load everything on the helicopter.”
The Professor turned to everybody and said, “By this time tomorrow we’ll be in our new home.”
Little did any of us know what that would turn out to mean over the next many years.
| Copyright © 2021 by Ed Rogers |
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