From Crisis to Chaos

Three men walked single file up a steep volcanic path that led to the top of Mount Kilauea in Hawaii. They were alone on the path, each lost in his own thoughts. Finally, the oldest of the three gave voice to a thought that had been nagging at him. “This is our third wild goose chase since South America,” Lionel Galton grumbled to Caesar Guevara. “I’m gettin’ tired of all your wrong guesses.”

“We have to keep going till we find it,” Caesar said. “Even if we circle the globe ten times.” He passed Galton and the third man of the trio, known simply as Fiero, and jogged ahead to escape any more verbal assaults.

The three men climbed in silence then, and after many long, grueling hours, they reached the top of the volcano.

“Hawaii looks beautiful from here, amigo,” Fiero said, attempting to break the ice between the two explorers he had sworn to protect.

Caesar nodded. It had been a difficult excursion, but he had promised that the east vent of the Pu`u `Ō `ō Crater held the answers he sought but had so far failed to discover during two previous expeditions, to Cairo and New Hampshire. He looked at the smoke billowing from the crater. Recent lava eruptions made the mountain unsafe, and the area had been closed to tourists. Caesar and his companions, adventurers all, had not been deterred. They knew how to avoid the authorities and blend into their surroundings when necessary. They had melted into the mountainside like shadows merging.

Caesar knew that Lionel and Fiero had been unhappy with his instincts lately, and both were running short of energy, fortitude, and patience. Their travels so far had been a waste of time, and in Egypt, Fiero had nearly drowned in quicksand. But Caesar had assured them that Mount Kilauea was, at long last, the right spot.

“You better be right this time, or I’ll wear your hide out myself!” Galton shouted through short shallow breaths. He was worn from the climb and in a petulant mood. “You must think I’m made of money, but I do have limits. These wild goose chases are draining my bank account.”

“It could have been worse, Lionel,” Caesar said. “We could have headed to Antarctica.”

“Boy, if you tell me we have to head to Commonwealth Bay, I’ll, well, I don’t know what I’ll do,” Galton huffed as he turned away from Caesar. He had spent his last bit of patience. “It won’t be easy getting us that far down under, I’ll tell you that. I’ll have to call in some mighty big favors, and I don’t need to remind you how much I hate the cold.”

Caesar had to smile. Even as his former father-in-law was moaning and complaining, the big man was already figuring and calculating how to get them to Antarctica if the need should arise.

Caesar focused on the inlet to the smoldering crater. He could feel her calling to him, the same voice he had heard in Egypt and on Mount Washington, although neither place had offered up its secrets.

Fiero tossed his bag to the ground and dropped to his knees to rest. He mopped his brow with a red bandana, while Galton drained his canteen. Caesar, unaffected by the sun or the heat from the volcanic steam, passed his canteen, nearly full, to his companions.

Caesar breathed deeply of the hot volcanic air.

“You nuts, boy?” Galton asked through the handkerchief he was holding over his nose and mouth. “This ash will choke the life out of you.”

Caesar took another deep breath. He was unaffected by the ash and smoke. He had become more in tune with the elements with each spot they visited. Energy had filled his body as he hiked into the quicksand dunes of Morecambe and the Qattara Depression of northwest Egypt. Elemental power had cleared his mind as he climbed the peaks on Mount Washington. He was feeling the rebirth again, becoming one with the massive formation before him. But his journey would not end in Hawaii. Reaching out to sense the heart of the volcano, he searched for the Scroll in his mind and felt nothing. “It isn’t here,” he said.

“How do you know?” Galton asked. “We just got here. At least when you had us driving around in circles on those dune buggies in the Middle East, you looked for clues, like a human dowsing rod. My hemorrhoids still hurt from all that rough riding.”

Caesar, used to Galton’s grumpiness, ignored him.

Galton scanned the area, trying to look down into the center of the steaming crater. As he turned away from the heat, he glanced at Caesar just as his son-in-law’s eyes rolled back into his head.

Fiero jumped up and caught Caesar before he fell.

“You hear me in there, Caesar?” Galton yelled as he tapped on Caesar’s skull with a knuckle.

“Please, jefe,” Fiero said.

“Well, why can’t he contact the old man while he’s in there doin’ his one-minute meditation? I’d hate to have climbed up here for nothing.”

Caesar returned to consciousness and faced Galton. “It doesn’t work like that. And you know it.”

Mount Kilauea was the third isolated location they’d visited in less than three months, and Caesar had failed once again to find the Scroll. But a voice from within the depths of the volcano had called to him, whispering her secrets. He had listened but he hadn’t understood. He had heard that voice at every site and felt the same strong connection, but comprehension eluded him. He wasn’t sure what the voice meant.

 “Well, don’t just do something, stand there,” Galton barked. Caesar’s ability to lose himself in time and space irritated Galton but also worried him. The blackouts left their mark, and Galton often wondered how many more times Caesar could return from the land of the dead.

Caesar sat on his haunches and leaned back on his hands, trying to think.

“This ain’t no time to be slipping back into a coma,” Galton said. “Could you at least try to find something up here before we leave?”

Caesar nodded. “There’s something here, but not what we seek. I’m going to take a closer look. I’ll be back in two hours.”

“Two hours?” Galton said. “You kidding me?”

Caesar shook his head. He peeled off his clothes and prepared to descend into the crater, a valley of certain death for mere mortals. But Caesar was no longer a mere mortal.

“Do you think he’s worried about setting his clothes on fire, jefe?” Fiero asked Galton as Caesar walked away.

“Nah, he’s just going skinny dipping,” Galton replied.

Caesar descended into the vent, treading carefully over the loose lava rock, white smoke swirling in his wake. Within minutes, he disappeared from view.

Fiero and Galton followed his path with their eyes until he was gone, covering their mouths against the harsh, arid heat.

“Caesar is costing me my fortune,” Galton muttered to Fiero, attempting to mask his fear.

Fiero shrugged. “You’ll get another fortune.”

“Hush, did you just hear something?”

“Not a thing, jefe,” Fiero replied. Fiero thought about the streams of flowing lava they had seen while casing the area over the past few days and began to worry.

***

Caesar reached the bottom of the crater and was drawn to a small, open fissure where lava boiled amid escaping steam. Blinded by smoke and steam, he walked toward the opening guided only by his thoughts. He reached down and cupped a handful of lava. It felt cool on his skin.

“Come to me,” a voice whispered from the lake of fire.

Caesar stepped into the lava. Slowly he submerged his body until he was nearly covered. He felt as if he were floating in the cool waters of the ocean.

Caesar took a deep breath and plunged in. I’ll be back soon! he projected, sending the mental message to Caesar and Galton. The sound of his thoughts carried to the top of the ridge and echoed out from the crater.

***

“There it is again,” Galton said. “You hear it that time?”

Fiero nodded. The voice had reverberated through his bones.

“Is he going into the volcano?” Fiero asked, but they both knew the answer.

As he stared at the wall of steam, Galton regretted goading Caesar into looking for clues. He had seen enough supernatural events over the past few months to last ten lifetimes—including Caesar walking out of a burning hangar in South America unscathed—but the heat of a volcano dwarfed that of a building fire. Although he had avoided thinking about it, he knew that Caesar was not entirely human anymore. The thought made him shiver despite the broiling sun and the heat rising from the volcano.

***

Caesar swam downward through the lake of fire with the effortless grace of a dolphin. With his eyes wide open, he descended until he saw a ledge. His field of vision was reddish pink, and he had a fleeting thought about seeing things through rose-colored glasses. He allowed himself a brief smile. He retained some vestige of humanity after all.

On the ledge rested another altar, an exact replica of the one inside the South American temple. But the altar was empty. It held no scroll, no artifact, no clues.

As he began his ascent, a feeling of displacement, now familiar, returned, pulling him into unconsciousness. The fear of drowning in the depths of the fiery pit overwhelmed him, but he couldn’t stop from slipping deeper into darkness. Fear faded as the old man, the previous Keeper of the Key, appeared to Caesar in a vision. They stood in the middle of a triangle, above the earth, looking down. Untamed waters thrashed and rolled about their feet. The old man looked into Caesar’s eyes but didn’t speak. Caesar finally understood. Follow your heart. The old man faded from Caesar’s dream.

***

Three hours passed with no sign of Caesar. Galton wished he had kept El Capitán’s cross around his neck instead of back in his hotel room. He could use a prayer right now. Before he finished his thought, Caesar emerged out of the steam like an apparition.

Galton jumped to his feet. “You okay, son?”

Caesar strode to the top of the crater and smiled at his friends. He opened his hands to reveal small puddles of lava. It flowed between his fingers and bounced off the sides of his legs like beads of water deflecting from a windshield, leaving his hands and legs dry and unblemished. He closed his eyes and quickly brought his body temperature back to normal. The reddish tint of his skin faded to light brown.

“You don’t seem to have any burns or melted body parts,” Galton said.

“I’m fine,” Caesar said.

“What took you so long? We been waiting nearly three hours.”

Caesar shook his head. “I was only gone a few minutes.” He had slipped into a time rift but knew better than to try and explain it to his comrades.

Fiero handed Caesar’s clothes to him, and he put them on.

“So what do you know?” Galton asked. “Same as the last site, I’m guessing.”

Caesar nodded. “But something tells me our searches have not been in vain. We haven’t seen the last of these sites, so think of our race around the world as preparation for the future.”

Galton gave Caesar a puzzled look, a look he had worn repeatedly since the beginning of this journey.

“What do we do now, amigo?” Fiero asked.

“Yeah, what?” Galton chimed in. “Another wild goose chase? The only element we haven’t tackled yet is water. Am I close?”

Caesar smiled. “We need to charter a boat.”