ELEVEN

Harrat-Ithnayn, Western Desert of Saudi Arabia

Like the surface of another planet, the wasteland stretched around him as far as the eye could see, a place with hellish temperatures and brutal terrain.

Robert Hamilton, Ph.D., had dismounted his camel and was surveying the landscape of hardened black basaltic lava that had cooled into hostile, jagged rocks. His young assistant, Finley, was snapping digital photos. Back with the camels, Maher, their Saudi guide, was swishing his hand to keep the flies away.

The two volcanologists had driven their Land Rover off the highway and into the desert for a few miles, where they met Maher, who was waiting with the camels. The Rover was no use from that point on. The terrain was impassable by motor vehicle. It was studded with half-ton basaltic rock bombs that had been tossed out of the volcano that had erupted just a few weeks earlier. Deep crevasses had recently ripped through the ground during the earthquake that accompanied the geological disruption. In the distance, a great volcanic cone rose from the table-flat desert during the recent eruption.

Hamilton took off his wide-brimmed field hat and mopped the sweat that was beading on his bald scalp. He marveled at the scene in front of him.

Finley stopped snapping pictures, studied his mentor, and said, “Dr. Hamilton, do you need some water?”

Hamilton shook his head.

Finley sheltered his eyes with a hand as he looked up in the general direction of the baking sun and said, “I promised Mrs. Hamilton I’d make you take it easy.”

“Not possible in this place. There’s nothing easy here. Just look at all of this, will you, Finley?” He motioned toward the giant volcanic cone.

But Finley was still concerned. “Perhaps you can sit down for a few minutes …”

Hamilton shook his head and laughed. “Finley, stop worrying. I’m not dying yet. I’ll let you know when the time comes. Relax. Enjoy.”

After swabbing his face with a rag, Hamilton took a few more steps toward the volcano. Then he started talking, almost to himself, as though he was delivering one of his lectures at the University of Hawaii where he taught. “Back in 1256, not far from where we are now, during the Muslim holy days and the beginning of Jumada al-Akhira, the people were gathering in Madinah for prayers at the Mosque of the Prophet. That’s when the earthquakes started. The ground cracked open. Underground, the basaltic magma was building. Then the eruption. Fire in the sky, followed by two solid months of volcanic activity. Lava flows for fifteen miles. The Muslims fled for their lives. They must have thought it was the end of the world.”

Hamilton paused, reflecting. He swung around to face Finley. “But then, after that eruption, silence. For nearly eight hundred years — until now. Of course, there have been others like this one here in the Middle East. That eruption on the island of As-Tair off the coast of Yemen in 2007. That was impressive. Volcanic ash a thousand feet in the air. And other ones in different parts of the world. The Iceland eruption in 2010. But you see, Finley, folks don’t realize how this region in particular, the whole of the Middle East, from the Saudi Peninsula to Syria, is riddled with fault lines and volcanic fields.”

Finley smiled and nodded. “Maher says that he’s got us a motel room in Al-Amair. If we leave now we can make it before sundown.”

“We’ve got camping gear with us, for heaven’s sake.”

“I’d hate to deal with your wife, Dr. Hamilton. If anything happened — ”

“I finished the first round of chemo more than two weeks ago. I’m as strong as an ox.”

“Could you humor me, Dr. Hamilton? Please?”

Hamilton shook his head. This was a major opportunity, once in a lifetime perhaps. In view of everything else in his life, he needed to nail this down with scientific precision. He wanted to start on his journal submission and hopefully get it published, as a follow-up on some of his earlier published work. Time was not on his side, and he knew it.

He spoke with resignation. “Fine. All right. Let’s head back. But we need to start tomorrow before sunrise and make the most of the day.”

Hamilton was almost back to the camels when he stopped and looked back at Finley. He poked a finger in his direction. “Do you realize how big this is?”

Finley smiled, but Hamilton looked him in the eyes, knowing that his assistant didn’t really understand. “Finley, this is global — historic. What’s going on here is scary stuff. I’ve got to get my data together and tell the climate people and global-warming organizations. They’ve got to be told — right away. Mind you, people are not going to want to hear this. The human race doesn’t like bad news. Especially the kind that upsets their applecart.”