A Christmas Escape (10 page)

“I think not,” he said wryly. “It hardly matters. I am no expert in reading evidence from a pool of blood, and I doubt you are. It will not tell us which of them killed the man. I think we would be wise to leave here.” He looked around him. “The structure has been damaged sufficiently; another shake and it could fall in on us.”

As he spoke he led the way across the room, stepping carefully on the debris and making for the doorway out into the whirling dust and smoke.

Instinctively both of them turned to look back at the mountain. Its peak was now hidden by more smoke. It seemed to tower into the sky in dark, billowing clouds, always moving, swirling, turning in on itself like some giant whirlpool, and then exploding out again, always climbing. Looking at it now, Charles believed that Stefano was right. There was worse to come.

He looked at Finbar, and saw his own thoughts reflected in the other man's face.

Finbar stopped. “Charles…I asked you to look after Candace, if I should get lost, or delayed…or if something happened to me. I imagined it was only a brief consideration. In a couple of weeks Christmas will be long over, and we will all be in our homes again. Perhaps we will not meet after that.”

“I will look after her,” Charles assured him. He could see the fear in Finbar's face. What else could he say?

“And if I die?” Finbar asked, raising his voice only just enough to be heard above the distant roar of the volcano.

There was only one possible answer. Charles thought for an instant of pointing out that if they got caught in the eruption, then they would all die. But he knew that was not what Finbar was thinking of. The old man knew his own physical limits were closing in on him more tightly every day. He was afraid of holding them all up in their escape because of his weakness. No one would ever think of leaving him behind.

No, that was not entirely true. Bretherton certainly wouldn't. Quinn he was less sure about. Quinn might feel it acceptable to go ahead with Isla and Candace, to save them. Except, of course, Candace wouldn't leave Finbar, no matter how much he wished her to. He must know her well enough to understand that to do it would haunt the rest of her life.

But there was no time for reasoned arguments when the answers were understood anyway.

“Of course I will,” he said to Finbar. “I'll take her back to wherever she needs to be, and see that whoever is looking after her has at least some idea of what all this was like.” He indicated the even more massive cloud that now filled half the sky.

Finbar grasped Charles's arm with his strong, thin hand.

“Charles, there is no one to care for her, talk to her, listen to her, guide her through the hard years ahead. I had hoped to do it, and I yet might, but I need to be certain that you will if…if I cannot.” He took his hand off Charles's arm and held it out. He could not beg, but it was in his eyes, his face.

Charles hesitated only long enough to swallow hard. He was unworthy of this. Finbar did not know him at all. He saw only the man he had been these few days, and that Candace liked him. He did not know all the colorless years that had come before, the unhappiness gnawing at him in places hidden from others. But they were still there, the doubts, the fears, the unbelief. The whole edifice of his life that amounted to failure.

But here was an old man with one child dependent upon him, and he was afraid that he would die and leave her alone, without companionship or defense. There was only Charles for him to turn to.

Charles clasped his hand and shook it, amazed at the strength in the old man. He had been a giant of some sort in his time, a leader, a man to trust. Charles wished passionately, with all the strength he had, that he were more like him.

“Yes, sir,” he said firmly. “I will. Now, if you please, we need to go and tell the others that Walker-Bailey is dead, there is nothing we can do to help him, and the mountain is building up for a major eruption. Stefano will show us the safest way down the mountain to the sea.”

Finbar clasped his hand a moment longer, then let go of it with a smile. “Thank you,” was all he said.

They were not far from the house, perhaps fifty yards, including the bends in the path around other buildings, but the ground was strewn with rubble, there were other beams down, and here and there some of the buildings were burning where they had been struck by bombs of burning lava.

They were only twenty yards away when Stefano came out of one of the sheds carrying a couple of heavy canvas rucksacks. He looked filthy and exhausted.

“Here,” he said with a smile. “We can carry food in these. We will only need a little. But water, we must have water. Bandages in case someone gets burned.” He held out one to Charles and kept the other. “Come…”

Charles took it and they began to walk the last few yards to the back door of the house.

Almost immediately there was a shattering noise from far up the mountain, so loud it seemed to reverberate around the sky. And a gout of flame shot into the air so vivid it burned scarlet even through the smoke, and lava spewed around it in ever-widening fountains of liquid fire.

Stefano pushed them toward the nearest wall, shielding them as much as he could.

Charles was knocked off his feet by a sudden tremendous impact. He collapsed to the ground, bruised, and aware the moment after of pain in both his legs. There was a scream, cut off horribly, then the smell of burning flesh.

Charles gasped for breath, trying to throw off the weight. For seconds he could barely breathe. He was suffocating with the pressure on his chest. It took every ounce of his strength not to panic. He could see something, then his eyes were covered with cloth, and more weight. The smell of burning was vile; it filled his nose and mouth, clogged his throat.

Then suddenly the pressure eased, the cloth came off his face. He gulped in air, but it was still full of the terrible taste.

Finbar was talking to him. He tried to concentrate on what he was saying.

“Charles! Charles, are you all right?”

“Yes,” he croaked. “Yes, I think so.” He wiped his hands over his eyes and found he could see. Finbar was lying beside him, propped on his elbow, his face smeared with ash and dust, but worse than that, with blood. His features were contorted with pain.

Charles struggled to sit up. He ached all over, but apart from a few scorches on his arms and legs he was unhurt. Then he saw Stefano, lying a few feet away. The side of his head was hideously burned; in fact, the cloth of his shirt was still smoldering. One of the lava bombs must have hit him directly.

Finbar's hand was gripping Charles's arm weakly but perhaps as hard as he had power to do.

“Don't,” he said softly, more a willing of the word than a sound. “He's dead, Charles. There's nothing we can do for him except pick up the job he would have done. He gave his life to save us. Now you must take the others down to the sea.”

“But you…” Charles started, his voice choking, not on the ash or the smell of burned human flesh, but on his own grief.

“No,” Finbar said without hesitation. “I can't make it. Both my legs are broken. You must go alone.”

“I can't leave you!” Charles protested. It was unthinkable! Even without Candace, he couldn't have done that. Even if he had not cared for Finbar himself, liked the man, admired him deeply. “No!” he repeated.

“I can't come with you,” Finbar repeated. “And I think I'm bleeding inside. It won't be long.”

“I don't care! I'm not leaving you!”

“You gave me your word, Charles,” Finbar reminded him. “If you stay here with me, I'll die anyway, and who will get the others down to the sea? The mountain isn't finished yet. Stefano knew that, and so do you.”

“Colonel Bretherton…” Charles argued. “Probably better than I could anyway. He's a natural leader. Dammit, he's a colonel.”

“You'll do it,” Finbar said. He smiled slightly. He was visibly growing weaker.

Charles could feel the tears on his face running through the ash, and the grief choking him.

Finbar reached for his hand, but failed to clasp it as he sank backward.

Charles leaned over and held Finbar's hand for an instant. Then, unable to look at him any longer, he lurched to his feet to keep his promise.

Barely maintaining his self-control, completely unaware of his own physical pain, knowing only the loss inside him and the suffocating awareness of his own inadequacy to measure up to what Finbar expected of him, he staggered inside.

Bretherton, Isla, Candace, and Quinn had all come up from the cellar and were more or less under the table, huddled together. As one, they looked up at Charles as he came in.

“What happened?” Isla asked, loosing herself from Bretherton's arm and crawling forward to stand up. “Where's Walker? You look awful! Did you find Walker?”

Charles should have worked out what he was going to say, but his mind was numb with horror. In thinking of Stefano and Finbar, he had almost forgotten Bailey. Now he had to think of a way to be honest but not brutal, and there was no time.

“I'm so sorry, Mrs. Bailey,” he said simply. “The volcano has gotten a lot worse. I'm sure you know that already. It has struck very close. Several of the outbuildings are badly damaged.”

Bretherton reached out and put his hand on Isla's arm, steadying her. “Are you saying he's dead?” he asked quite calmly, as if he understood already.

“Yes, sir, I'm afraid so,” Charles replied, grateful for the man's understanding and lack of hysteria. “I'm sorry to have to tell you.”

Candace was standing up, too, staring at him. This was going to be considerably harder. There was nothing good about this, no relief for anyone, and nobody to help Candace except Charles himself. How on earth was he going to measure up to it? He had no choice, none at all. To evade it now would be despicable. He had to take Finbar's place, at least physically, even if he never could emotionally. The pain of not trying would be worse than any despair of failure.

He looked at her frankly, meeting her eyes. “I'm sorry…” He found the words desperately hard to say.

“Was it his heart?” she asked.

Should he lie? Heart attacks could be quick. But he would want to tell her the truth later. Finbar deserved that. His courage would be something to strengthen her for the rest of her life. Charles knew that if he lied now, she would never completely trust him, and she needed more from him than his own easy way out.

“No.” He watched her face as he said it. He saw the shock, the fear of something worse. Better do it all now.

“Stefano pushed us back against the wall of one of the buildings, and tried to protect us.” He should say it all now, then he wouldn't have to again. “One of the lumps of burning lava killed him, and it injured your uncle…”

Candace lunged forward as if she wanted to get past him and go outside. “He's not dead! Why did you leave him?” She swung around to Bretherton. “Come and help me!”

Charles caught hold of her with his arms. She struggled for a moment, kicking at him. He held her tighter.

“Candace! Stop…”

She tried to hit him and only just missed his face.

“Candace! He didn't die instantly, but he's dead now. He made me promise to look after you. That was what he cared about most: that you would be all right. He was a brave man, a wonderful man, and he loved you dearly.”

She stopped struggling, but he could feel the rigid tension in her body.

“He lived long enough to shake my hand on it. Then he ordered me to leave him and come back here so I could help to get us all out before the volcano really lets fly. Stefano was sure it will.”

Gradually she let go and slumped in his arms.

He looked over the top of her head to Bretherton. “We've got to get supplies together and get on our way,” he said. “Stefano had most of it ready—”

Quinn interrupted. “Who put you in charge to make decisions for the rest of us?” he demanded. “For God's sake, Mrs. Bailey has just lost her husband, and Miss Finbar her uncle. You can't expect them to…”

Isla turned and glared at him. “Expect us to what? Want to escape from here and live? Don't speak for me, Mr. Quinn. I can speak for myself, and I imagine Candace can as well.” She looked at Candace, still standing in Charles's arms, her face buried in his shoulder. “Candace?” she said again, her voice was gentle but clear.

Candace straightened up slowly and turned to face her. She was pale and shivering, but she stepped away from Charles and stood separately. “Yes, of course I can,” she answered. “If Uncle Roger died making Charles promise to look after me, then he would expect me to behave properly. He never ran away from anything; neither will I.” She blinked several times and the tears slid down her face. She gave a twisted little smile. “Except the volcano, of course. I think we should all run away from that.”

“Well said,” Bretherton agreed. He looked from her to Charles. “Let's get started. We'll need water mostly, and I suppose a little food. It's midwinter so it will get dark early. We'd better get going as quickly as we can.”

Quinn looked very pale. “We don't want to get caught on the side of the mountain in the dark. We could get lost!” He looked at Charles. “Have you got even the faintest idea which way to go?”

“That will depend on where the eruptions are,” Charles replied. Really he had no idea, but they needed to believe in him. Panic was one sure way to make everything worse.

“And how the hell do we know what that will be?” Quinn challenged. They all looked at Charles questioningly.

He must find an answer. Stefano had wanted them to leave. In fact he had been adamant about it. Why?

There seemed to be silence outside. The rumbling had stopped.

“It's finished!” Isla said, her face bright with relief. “If that's the end of it we'd be foolish to risk going out and trying to get down the mountain by ourselves. Wouldn't we be better to go back to the cellar and wait there? Lava bombs won't affect us underground. There's plenty of food. We could stay low for days.”