The Lost Island

42

First thing the next morning, Gideon and Amy took the sat phone down to the beach, where they would have the best chance for reception. Amy turned on the unit. As it warmed up, the LED screen flashed with calls received and messages left. There were several — all from EES. Gideon felt a twinge of nervousness: they hadn’t called Glinn in days, and the man was not going to be happy.

Amy set the phone to speaker and put in the call. It was answered immediately — by Glinn. The voice wasn’t, as Gideon expected, excited or angry. It was cool, formal, measured.

“It’s been too many days since I heard from you,” Glinn said. “Would you care to explain yourselves?”

“We have to talk fast,” Amy said. “We’re down to four percent battery power, and no way to recharge.”

“Then talk.”

Gideon listened as Amy launched into an explanation of her discovery related to Homer’s Odyssey. But Glinn almost immediately interrupted her. “I’ve heard enough. This is irrelevant. Listen to me please — and listen well. We’re aborting the mission.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Gideon asked.

“There’s new information that needs to be evaluated.”

“What new information?”

“We solved the riddle. No time to go into the details, except to say that the vellum was made from the skin of a Neanderthal-like hominid.”

“Wait. What are you saying?”

“This new information has thrown off our computer models. In addition, there is a consensus here that you can’t be left on your own any longer — we’ve got to regroup, reanalyze, and plan a revised mission. I’ll be sending a boat to pick you up and bring you back to New York. I commend your fine work and I look forward to debriefing you both—”

The battery indicator on the sat phone started to blink red.

Amy reached over and shut off the phone.

Gideon stared at her. “What are you doing?”

Amy turned her dark eyes on him. “Is that what you want to do? Abort the mission? After all we’ve risked, all we’ve done?”

“No, I don’t.”

“How about no frigging way! We’re twenty miles from our goal.” She gestured toward the distant islands. “It’s right there. We can see it.”

Gideon stared at her. “Okay. I hear you.”

“I hope you’re going to do more than just hear me. All we have to do is get to those islands, explore them, identify the source of this medicine — which I have little doubt is the very ‘lotus’ these natives gave you — and bring it back.”

“Going against Glinn may have consequences. He might try to stop us.”

“He doesn’t know where we are,” she said.

“He can make a pretty good guess.”

“The only thing I want to know right now is this: are you in or not?”

Gideon took a deep breath. He still had his doubts about her theory — but the appearance of the Lotus Eaters had gone a long way toward quelling them. He’d never seen such conviction or such fearlessness before, in man or woman. “I’m in.”

Amy smiled, leaned toward him. “You know, I could kiss you for saying that.”

“Go ahead.”

“Not right now. We’ve got work to do.”

He started to laugh. “If not now, when?”

“You’ll know it when it happens.” She packed the satellite phone back in the drysack and stood up, brushing off the sand. Then she paused, looking out to sea.

Gideon followed her gaze toward the nearer of the mountainous islands, lying on the horizon at the very edge of visibility, its vastness cloaked in purple haze, so distant and mysterious. A lone cloud clung to the highest peak. Was it possible — even remotely possible — that a cure for his terminal condition might be found in that mythical-looking land?