The Green Lama: Unbound (The Green Lama Legacy Book 3) Page 3
Which was why he decided make this visit to the pilot’s cabin.
“Hello, Rick,” he said as he entered.
Rick Masters half-turned back to face Jethro, but didn’t take his focus off the airship controls. Rick was a well-built man in his late thirties, only now beginning to go soft. The slight bump in his gut hinted an increasing reliance on alcohol, and the half bottle of whiskey stashed below the controls confirmed it. “Hey, Jethro. If that’s what you’re callin’ yourself today.”
Jethro had met Rick before his return to America, shortly before he had decided to keep his identity as the Green Lama a secret, making him one of the very few people to know the truth.
“Just Jethro today.”
Rick nodded as he worked the controls. “We should be in Kamariotissa soon. Have to admit, buddy, wasn’t really expecting to hear from you ever again. It’s been what… five years since that whole mess in Tibet?”
“Six,” Jethro said as he sat down in the co-pilot chair.
“You mind tellin’ me what your plans are all the way out on this side of the pond? Not that it’s really any of my concern, mind you, but based on the last time you used my services—”
“To help a friend,” Jethro said, refusing to elaborate.
Rick grunted in understanding. “Good thing you don’t have to deal with that psychopath…” Rick searched for the name in the recesses of his memory before it finally made its way to his tongue, “Hayden ever again.”
“Heydrich,” Jethro corrected, closing his eyes, remembering the insane Nazi sorcerer and his quest for the Jade Tablet, feeling the mad life he had taken all those years ago weigh down upon him. “Your business seems to be doing well. Are you still working with Twin Eagle?”
“Yup. He would’ve come along but he’s out west dealing with his own stuff. Family, I think. He wouldn’t say. You look like crap,” he added.
Jethro smiled ruefully at that. “I feel like it, too.”
“Well, at least you’re self aware,” Rick said. He then glanced over at Jethro for a moment. “Some of those adventurer-types, I’ve seen them run halfway across the world, talking big and getting themselves and their friends killed without batting an eye. Kinda like how you were back in the day. Though you don’t seem as tightly strung as I remember.”
“I’ve been through a lot,” Jethro replied simply.
“Yeah, I’ve read a little about you over the years,” Rick said as he turned away. “Seems like you’ve been busy. You and that guy who lives in the Empire State Building. Now, he’s wound really tight.”
Jethro chuckled. “I know what you mean. I was his root guru for a time while he was studying in Tibet. His heart is in the right place, though I don’t agree with some of his tactics.”
“Buddy, I generally don’t agree with any tactic that can get me killed.”
Jethro leaned back into the chair, unsure how to respond, his mind once again drifting back to Jean. They had known each other for over two years, but she had only come to know Jethro Dumont recently. To her, Jethro was just another face from the tabloids, drunk off his family’s wealth, giving nothing to the world beyond celebrity gossip. She didn’t look at him the way she looked at the Green Lama, a fact that made him impossibly jealous of himself. It was partially why he had chosen to keep that persona in America for the time being.
He watched the clouds drift outside, like waves on the ocean and, out in the distance, a dark wall in the sky.
Jethro leaned forward. “What’s that?”
Rick peered through the window. “Looks like a storm, but there wasn’t anything on the meteorological charts. Not to worry, it’s pretty far from us so we’ll be able to get around it.”
As Rick turned the wheel to guide the dirigible away from the storm, Jethro watched as the massive cloud began to shift toward them.
Jethro stood out of his chair. “It’s moving,” he said. He could feel electricity pulse through his system, as though the radioactive salts in his body were reacting to something in the air. He watched in horror as tentacles seemed to grow from the cloud wall, extending out and reaching toward the airship.
Rick’s eyes went wide. “Okay, that’s not supposed to happen.”
Jethro Dumont, a thousand voices whispered, resonating from the back of Jethro’s skull, we see you. He gripped his head and stumbled back, grabbing onto the back of a chair to regain his footing. He knew that voice, but from where?
“Something has been thrown off balance…” Jethro breathed.
“You’re not kiddin’,” Rick said, oblivious to the voice. He picked up a small headset and turned on the loudspeaker. “Hey everyone, this is your captain speaking. We’re about to hit a pretty big, uh, storm, so if you can find something to strap yourself in with, that might be a good idea.” He hung up the speaker and turned to Jethro, panic visible in his eyes. “Okay, I’m not gonna lie to you, this might be bad.”
They watched the cloud tendril enveloped them, the cabin shuddering from the sudden gust of wind. Large droplets of rain began smattering against the windshield, lightning arched across the sky.
The door to the cabin burst open as Caraway stormed in. “Are we going to explode? I don’t want to explode.”
“No, no, no… Well…” Rick frowned. “If lightning hits the hydrogen, then yeah, we could go Hindenburg.”
“Goddammit,” Caraway grumbled. “See, Jethro, this is the kind of stuff I was bitchin’ about.”
“How close are we to Kamariotissa?” Jethro asked Rick.
“Technically speaking? We’re practically on top of it.”
“Can we land?” Caraway asked.
“Land?” Rick scoffed. “Lemme put it this way. I’m focusing on trying to keep her off the ground.”
“We have to get down there, Rick,” Jethro said.
“I’m gonna be honest with you, Jethro. I haven’t exactly finished paying this airship off. I’m not going to risk trying navigating it through a storm like this. I’m sorry, but right now the only way you guys are getting down there is if one of you could fly.”
Jethro felt his eyebrow shoot up.
• • •
“I’m going to go on record by saying this is a bad, bad, very bad idea,” Caraway shouted over the roar of the wind as they climbed down into the cargo hold. They ran toward the far end where, hooked into the ceiling over an empty expanse of air, was Rick’s modified bi-plane, the name M. Lawrence emblazoned on the side.
Jethro pulled three parachutes off the side of the hold and tossed one each to Ken and Caraway. “Not the time for doubt, John,” Jethro said as he fastened on his own chute.
“Guys, guys… listen,” Ken said, clutching his chute, his face a sickly green. “I’m—I’m with Caraway on this. I think—think we should just stay on the airship.”
Jethro shook his head. “The Green Lama was explicit,” he said, reflecting on how accustomed he had become to referring to himself in the third person. “Jean’s in trouble and we need to get to her as quickly as possible. We may already be too late. Rick should be able to make it out of the storm safely, but if we don’t go now, we might not be able to get to Kamariotissa for another day, maybe more.”
“Not that I love the idea of weathering the storm up here, but how do we even know that’s where she is?” Caraway hollered.
Thunder cracked outside and lightning flashed, illuminating the cargo hold for an instant.
“The Green Lama told us that’s where she would be,” Jethro replied.
“And the Lama’s never wrong?” Caraway asked incredulously. Jethro silently turned to M. Lawrence, knowing Caraway had a point. But Caraway wasn’t finished. “Listen, Dumont, you’re still new to this adventuring stuff,” he said, stepping in front of Jethro, , “So let me bring you up to speed. It’s already been two days since the Lama sent us out. That’s two days’ worth of running, two days’ worth of hiding. For all we know Jean’s miles away from here, sunning herself on a beach in Italy.”
“Lightning just took out our left propeller,” Rick said over the loudspeaker. “If you’re gonna get going, you’d better do it now.”
“Well,” Caraway said, resigned. “That settled that argument. Out of the way, rich boy. Of the three of us, I’m the only one who flew with Eddie Rickenbacker.”
Jethro picked up the hold’s transceiver and called up to the pilot’s cabin. “Rick, are you sure you’ll be all right?”
“Been through a lot worse than this, buddy,” Rick responded via intercom. “I’ll be fine, just promise me you’ll pay me back for all this.”
“Promise,” Jethro said as he hung up the transmitter. Climbing into the modified biplane, Jethro allowed himself some regret at having rescued only one vial of his radioactive salts, leaving his enhanced radioactive salts onboard. “Come on, Ken, we haven’t much time.”
Ken gave him a weak nod, but his feet remained nailed to the floor.
Jethro gingerly touched Ken’s shoulder. “Mr. Clayton…”
“I know,” he said hurriedly, careful not to look Jethro in the eye. “I just… Help me up there, would you?”
“Of course,” Jethro said calmly. As he helped Ken climb up, Jethro suddenly realized that while Ken had fearlessly fought against crooks, had even faced down the supernatural, of all things, he was afraid of flying.
“I’m not gonna lie to you fellas,” Caraway said as he strapped himself into the pilot’s seat, “It’s been a few years since I’ve flown.”
“We’re not worried about the flying, right now, John. Just the landing,” Jethro said, climbing into his seat.
“Oh, we are going to die,” Ken whispered behind them.
The engine began to rattle and the propeller spun into a circular blur. Lightning flashed and thunder roared. Jethro noticed the airship was beginning to turn listlessly to the left. Caraway paused as he reached up to the latch that would disconnect the plane from the airship.
“Hey, Jethro,” Caraway said, swallowing the lump in his throat.
“Yes?”
He glanced back over his shoulder at Jethro. “You Buddhists, you believe in God, right?”
Jethro nodded sideways. “Tricky question.”
“Okay,” Caraway nodded slowly, visibly discomforted by Jethro’s response.
“Why do you ask?”
“’Cause I would start praying really hard right about now,” Caraway said as he snapped open the latch, sending the plane into free fall.
They spun into the darkness, rain hitting them from all directions, soaking them instantly. The world around them had grown black, the sun a distant memory while lightning flashed about them. Above them, save for the flaming propeller, Rick’s airship was completely lost in the black cloud, like Jonah within the whale. Jethro felt the pit of his stomach shift upward; his body was on fire, energy bursting through every pore. Clutching the handholds on the sides of his seat, he closed his eyes and whispered, “Om! Ma-ni Pad-me Hum!”
“OH GOD!” Ken hollered, covering his eyes.
“Hold on!” Caraway shouted through gritted teeth.
“We have to get out of this storm!” Jethro shouted to Caraway.
“No shit!” Caraway bellowed as he struggled with the controls.
They barreled downwards, the wind and rain rushing past in the darkness, flashes of lightning giving fleeting glimpses of the tempest surrounding them. The plane was thrown wildly by the turbulence, threatening to catapult them from their seats. Just when it seemed there would be no end to the nightmare, they suddenly burst through the cloud cover into clear blue skies. They could still see the mass of dark cloud above them, but, impossibly, not a drop of rain fell upon them.
“We’re dead,” Ken whimpered in the seat behind them. “Oh, God. We’re dead, aren’t we?”
“Tell that boy to shut the hell up!” Caraway called back as he steadied the plane.
Below them the island of Samothrace looked like a malachite crystal, shimmering in the pyrite sea. A small diamond of red and white buildings sat along the western coast, glinting in the sunlight. Kamariotissa.
Jethro turned in his seat to look up at the storm, the cloud pulsating like a giant black worm in the sky. Rick’s airship was still hidden within; only the faint orange glow of the flaming propeller could be seen.
“I think there’s a clearing over there where we might able to land,” Caraway said, indicating a flat section of land near the port town. “It’ll be bumpy, but we should get there in relatively one piece… I think.”
Jethro felt his heart jump into his throat as he watched the cloud suddenly pull away from the airship, and impossibly, began turning toward them. The airship was heavily damaged, but still flying; Jethro could see Rick in the cockpit, working the controls. As the cloud extended toward them, Jethro once again heard the otherworldly voice echo out from the back of his skull.
We see you, Jethro Dumont, the voices said, laughing. We see you, Green Lama.
Fighting back panic, Jethro spun around and tapped Caraway on the shoulder. “Fly faster, John!”
Ken lifted his head up and ventured a glance back behind them. His eyes went wide and whatever color he had left drained from his face. “Oh no, no, no!” He shook his head violently as he watched the cloud speed toward them.
“What is he yammering about?” Caraway said.
“Don’t look, just fly!” Jethro screamed.
Ignoring Jethro’s plea, Caraway craned his head around, his jaw dropping at the sight. He unconsciously stiffened his arms, throwing the wheel forward and sending the bi-plane into a nosedive. “The storm is chasing us!” he cried. “Why is the storm chasing us?”
“Pull up! Pull up!” Jethro shouted, falling into his seat when Caraway complied.
“How in God’s name are we going to outrun a goddamn storm?” Caraway shouted.
“It wants me…” Jethro whispered as he watched the smoky mass snake after them. He knew they couldn’t outrun it for long, and there was no assurance that if they landed it wouldn’t follow them down. There had to be a way to stop it, he was certain. But how?
“You boys have any ideas back there?” Caraway demanded as he swung the plane into a sharp turn. “‘Cause I’m open to suggestions!”
Jethro suddenly remembered the airship’s propeller. “John, how far up are we?”
Caraway looked over the dashboard. “Uh, about three thousand feet.”
“Good. I need your gun!”
“My gun?” Caraway grumbled as he pulled his pistol out of its holster and handed it back to Jethro. “You’d better have a damn good plan, Dumont!”
“Just trust me on this,” Jethro said as he climbed out of his seat and onto the wings.
“Jethro, what are you doing?” Ken shrilled.
Gripping onto one of the struts, Jethro positioned himself by the fuselage, the propeller roaring beside him. “Do you have your parachutes on?” he shouted to the others.
“Yes,” Caraway said.
“Uh… Maybe,” Ken murmured.
“I need you to jump,” Jethro said matter-of-factly, ignoring their dumbstruck looks. “Once you’re clear I’m going to blow up the plane.”
Caraway slammed his palm against the wheel. “I knew this was a bad idea!” He glanced back at the chasing storm, deciding Jethro’s was the best idea they would get. “Dammit. Fine. What about you?”
Jethro shook his head. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll jump clear before it blows. Quickly! We don’t have much time.”
Ken whimpered under his breath, but couldn’t pry himself loose from his seat.
“Ken, you need to jump!” Jethro yelled. “Jump now!”
Fighting every fiber in his being, Ken slowly swung his legs over the edge of the plane and tightly shut his eyes. “I’m beginning to hate adventures.” He took a deep breath, but failed to take the leap.
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“No time for cold feet, kid,” Caraway said as he shoved Ken off into the air, the young man screaming as he fell to Earth.
“Don’t worry, he’ll open the chute in time. The plane should stay aloft for a few moments before it starts going down. Don’t wait too long, Dumont,” Caraway said as he climbed out of his seat. He glanced back at the storm one last time. “Remind me to sock the Lama in the face when we get home.”
“You might get the chance sooner than you think,” Jethro said pleasantly, as if they were chatting over a couple of drinks.
Caraway allowed himself a sardonic grin. “Here’s hoping. See ya soon, Dumont,” he said before leaping out of the plane.
Jethro watched as his friends fell clear and opened their parachutes. Thankfully, the living storm failed to follow them, which meant his suspicions were confirmed. It wanted him. Without Caraway in the pilot’s seat the plane began to slow and tip toward the ground, giving Jethro the sense of free fall. He waited until the storm was upon him, rain and lightning shooting from all angles. He kicked off the cap, gasoline spilling out into the air in long tendrils. “Om! Ma-ni Pad-me Hum!” he chanted as he pressed the pistol against the fuselage.
We see you, Green Lama, the voices echoed around him, a cacophony of sound. A tremor echoed inside Jethro’s mind, at last recognizing the voices. They were the creatures from the Bartlett, who had killed so many in their hunt to kidnap Jean, their “Keystone.” And here they were, once again unfettered upon the world.
“See this,” Jethro growled as he fired, the heat of the blast singeing the edges of his suit as the M. Lawrence exploded around him.
CHAPTER 3
THE DIPLOMATS
“You’re not wearing your green robes anymore, Tulku,” Dumont said as Tsarong entered his room. The American was seated cross-legged on the floor, nearly unrecognizable in his red and orange robes. His shaved pate shone in the cold mountain light.
“They are no longer mine to wear,” Tsarong said with a slight nod, tugging his blue vestment closer to his body. “It is chilly in here, no?” he asked.