Portent (38 page)

    The day was drawing to a close and the poor light no longer allowed him to work his field anyway, so he rested sitting on the running board of his old Ford truck and gazing up at the great black mountain that he refused to fear. Pinatubo was an old friend who, despite its occasional bouts of tetchiness, should be revered, not dreaded.

    For only a second or two the smoke from the crater thinned and Micker jumped up in surprise. Yes, yes, it was still there, the star was still there! It was only a tiny pinpoint of light, but it was fiercely striking as it glimmered in the fumes just twenty metres or so above the edge of the volcano. When it had first appeared two days ago, Micker had watched it through a long telescope borrowed from a friend and had been able to see that in reality it was a small, glowing ball, not unlike a wonderful giant sea pearl. And here it was once more, letting him know that all was well, that there was nothing to be afraid of. Oh yes, this was an omen, but it foretold of good things to come, not bad, and perhaps… yes, perhaps, like the star of 2,000 years ago, it announced a new birth, the coming of a holy saviour! Micker dropped to his knees in the dirt and clasped his hands together on the truck's running board as if it were an altar rail on which he could pray. He bowed his head and his lips moved with the silent prayer.

    He raised his head again when his hands began to vibrate. And he hurriedly pushed himself away from the truck when the whole of its aged bodywork began to rattle.

    A strange warmth flushed through his bare feet and lower legs and he stared down at the ground in amazement. The evening was cold and the rolling cloud of smoke above had screened the earth from the sun's rays all day; the field should not have held such heat! Then he heard an ominous groaning.

    It seemed to come from below, but Micker faced the true source, Mount Pinatubo itself.

    The groaning developed to a bellow, the bellow to a roar, the roar a scream, after which a poisonous shower of ash, mud and pumice stone was expelled from the volcano. The explosion that followed was like a thousand bombs set for the same moment and the farmer clapped his hands to his ears. The sky lit up and the dark rolling clouds turned a furious gold as fire and stone erupted into the atmosphere. Micker was rooted to the spot, too overwhelmed to run, too frozen with fear even to cower. He did not stay rooted for long though: a fissure opened up in the field he had lovingly tended for so long, snaking from one end to the other, across the bumpy, rock-strewn track where his truck continued to shake, and into the jungle beyond; Micker was swallowed along with his truck and burned to nothing by the fiery lava below.

    Debris from Mount Pinatubo was thrown fourteen miles into the air and the people of the closest towns used umbrellas and towels around their heads to protect themselves from falling ash and rubble as they fled through the streets. Those who had refused to leave the cities of Angeles, San Fernando and Olongapo before now tried to do so as tremors shook the buildings and pavements and mud slides, made worse by the recent storms, threatened bridges and roads.

    But terrifying as the first eruption had been, it could not be compared with the one that swiftly followed. Mount Pinatubo simply blew apart.

    The heavens lit up and the blast was heard almost 3,000 miles away. Scientists later calculated that the explosion's force reached more than 30,000 megatons-one million times greater than that of the atomic bomb that had destroyed Hiroshima at the end of World War Two. With this second devastating explosion, rocks and ash were hurled fifty miles into the air and pressure waves circled the globe. Earthquakes and tidal floods quickly followed, and the same fissure that had swallowed up Micker Ramos and his truck stretched another three miles. The cities of Angeles and Guagua, as well as other smaller towns and villages, were reduced to dust-coated rubble, while many buildings in Manila and as far north as Dagupan collapsed under the weight of fallout ash.

    The people of the Philippines thought that the end of the world had finally arrived.

    

    

    Hugo Poggs looked in on Eva from the doorway. She was tucked up in bed, pillows fluffed up behind her so that she could sit and scribble on the pad in her lap. She was very quiet and although she responded to his and Bibby's attention well enough, there was a distinct lack of verve in her reaction. Perhaps it was to be expected. In fact, the consulting physician at the hospital had warned that although she appeared perfectly normal when they had arrived to collect her, some form of mild inertia might follow once she was back at home.

    Bibby, in a comfortable armchair that had been moved close to the bedside, laid down the book she was reading and peered over her bi-focals at him. 'Shall I make us all some lunch, dear?' she asked.

    'Is our Minnie hungry?' Poggs looked expectantly at the child. 'Eva?' he enquired when she offered no reply.

    This time she ceased drawing and looked up at him, her face pale, but her eyes still a sparkling blue.

    'Would you like something to eat, darling?' Bibby reached for the little girl's hand and held it lightly.

    'No thank you, Grandma.' Eva wriggled her hand free and went back to her drawing.

    Poggs exchanged glances with his wife and Bibby gave a tiny shake of her head. She rose, kissed the top of her granddaughter's head, and joined her husband in the doorway. 'Eva might try some soup,' she said quietly, looking back at the girl with a troubled frown.

    Poggs gave her an encouraging squeeze, aware of just how much she worried about her grandchildren. The loss of their only son, Anthony, for all his faults, had been hard for both of them and, like all such bereaved parents whose offspring had turned out less than perfect, they wondered how much they, themselves, were to blame. He knew that the question had never fully resolved itself in Bibby's mind and the thought of the twins being harmed in any way-particularly because of their horrid start in life as orphan babies in Romania-was the cause of constant concern to her. Diane's phone call early that morning had raised their fears to a wretched level, even though their daughter-in-law had been unable to explain her alarm.

    Bibby had grasped the cloth of his shirtsleeve. 'Do you think we should let the hospital know how she is?' she whispered.

    He shook his head and kept his own voice low. 'They said to ring if she seemed to be acting strangely, or if she suffered a relapse. The mood she's in at present isn't at all strange for Eva-we've seen both her and Josh like this on other occasions, haven't we? And she doesn't appear to be sleepy, just very subdued, I'd say. Tell you what, old thing, let me see to the food and you go back and sit with her. If she's out of your sight, even for a moment, you'll only worry all the more.'

    Bibby smiled at her husband, this big, bluff, kind man, who was lost so often in a world of science and geology, yet who cared so much not just for his loved ones but for his fellow-man also. Perhaps it was tiredness compounded by the anxiety over the last forty-eight hours that caused a wave of deep sadness to sweep through her; she laid her head against her husband's broad chest for a moment. He patted her back as though she were a melancholy child and allowed her to rest against him until the mood passed. She listened to the wheeziness of his lungs and was quickly reminded that Hugo was not a fit man despite his superficially robust appearance. Bibby straightened up immediately and gave him a smile that belied her concerns.

    'You go ahead then,' she said, 'while I stay with our little dryad.'

    'Good girl,' he said, not in the least fooled by her change in manner. Their years together had instilled a natural instinct for each other's feelings and in this circumstance they both shared a sense of foreboding. 'I'll do us a sandwich as well, shall I?' he said, patting her ample bottom as she turned towards Eva again.

    'I'm not hungry,' Bibby insisted.

    'Neither am I, but I'll make us something anyway.'

    He left the room and Bibby heard his heavy footsteps fading down the stairs. She leaned over her granddaughter to brush tousled hair from her forehead and glanced at the picture Eva was drawing at the same time.

    It was the usual one. The green lawns filled with playing children. And of course, the pillars they played amongst, just two straight lines with no top.

    Wind shook the bedroom window and Bibby noticed rain had begun to fall.

    Poggs was at the bottom of the stairs and passing the front door when he heard a noise from the other side. He stopped to listen, holding his wheezy breath in check for a moment so that he could hear better. It sounded as if a vehicle had drawn into the courtyard.

    He went to the window in the sitting room and pulled the halfdrawn curtain back. 'Good Lord,' he said under his breath when he saw what was outside.

    A large, grey Grenada was parked out there and three men were climbing out. They were all black, although one, the most smartly dressed of them, had a lighter skin tone. This one opened the rear door on his side and out stepped the largest and blackest woman that Hugo Poggs had ever seen.

    He jerked back as a gust of wind rattled the window in its frame and shuddered when he remembered the freak wind of a few nights before that had shrieked through the house as if seeking out those inside.

    He leaned forward again and saw that Mack was approaching the group.

    

    

    It was a relief to be out of Gatwick and heading north towards London, for the airport had been chaotic. The information boards were announcing more delays than arrivals and departures and frustrated would-be travellers milled around beneath them, complaining to airline staff and anyone who would listen. From brief snippets of conversation Rivers managed to catch as he and Diane hurried Josh across the concourse, the problems appeared to be with other airports around the world rather than Gatwick itself.

    The brown-tinted Surrey fields and woodlands spread into the distance on either side of the motorway and to the west black clouds rolled across the horizon. Insects the size of small stones-and some considerably larger-splattered against the windscreen of Diane's car and she had to use the wipers and water jets frequently to clear the glass. Although still subdued, Josh wanted to know if they were going back to Hazelrod.

    Aware that Josh was concerned for his sister, Diane reassured him that Eva was okay now and safely at home with Grandma and Grandad. His silence told her he was still troubled.

    'What is it, Josh?' she asked him. 'Why are you worried so?' She shifted in her seat to see him in the rear-view mirror. He was looking down into his lap.

    'I don't know, Mama,' was all he would say.

    Rivers reached round and jiggled the boy's knee. 'We'll be back at Hazelrod soon, Josh. Just some business to take care of first, okay?'

    There was little response and Rivers faced the front again.

    'Do we need to stay long at Pilgrim Hall?' Diane asked as she pulled out into the fast lane to pass a heavy arc that was hogging the centre stretch.

    'No,' Rivers promised. 'I'm not sure how I'm going to tell Sheridan, but it'll be brief.'

    'What if he needs you to stay there?'

    'There'd be no point. There's not a thing any of us can do.'

    'But if he insists.'

    'I've been looking forward to a career change for some time now.'

    She took a quick look at him. 'You don't mean that.'

    He sighed. 'Maybe not.' He touched her hand on the steering wheel. 'While I'm talking to Sheridan try and get through to Hugo again.'

    Before she could reply she felt a vibration running through the car and, when Rivers' hand dropped away, she could see her knuckles juddering on the steering wheel. 'Not again,' she began to say, 'not here…'

    They had passed the long lorry and on their left, less than a hundred yards away from the motorway, they saw a steep, grassy knoll. Small clumps of earth were breaking away from it and as they drew closer they noticed deep cracks appearing on its slopes.

    The whole car was shaking now and traffic ahead was slowing down as if the drivers thought the problem was with their own vehicles.

    'Keep going, Diane,' Rivers urged. 'Keep in the fast lane and don't stop.'

    They were almost level with the small hillock when small clods of earth started to erupt from its top. Other vehicles were pulling over on to the hard shoulder as the road itself began to quiver visibly.

    'Don't stop,' he said again, his voice low and urgent, as he felt their own speed reduce.

    She overtook the Volvo in front on the inside as it slowed down almost to walking pace. Control was awkward and her hands were rigid on the wheel, but she managed to swing back into the fast lane once past the Volvo.

    The hillock exploded with the sharp cracking sound of prolonged thunder and steaming water jetted from it in a fountain of raw, pressurized energy. Earth and stones were expelled hundreds of feet into the air.

    'Move!' Rivers yelled and Diane slammed her foot down in a reflex action. The car shot forward as sizzling droplets of water cascaded down on to its roof and bonnet. She kept going, not daring to look back, avoiding cars, lorries and coaches that were screeching to a halt ahead of her.

    'What the hell is it?' she shouted over the gushing roar.

    'It's impossible,' was all Rivers could reply. He craned his neck and watched the great gusher scream towards the sky, a hundred feet, 200, rising and rising. 'Jesus…' he said in an exhalation of breath.

    Much of the traffic behind them had stopped and the more foolish drivers and passengers were leaving their vehicles for a better view of the phenomenon. He watched them stagger and try to cover their heads with their hands as scalding water rained down on them; those who could frantically clambered back into their vehicles, while others ran through the lines of stalled traffic and across the motorway in pain-stricken panic. He closed his eyes as several of them were struck and flung into the air by oncoming cars, their limbs loose and lifeless before they even smashed back on to the concrete.