The Seven Swords of Diya: An Indiana Jones Fan Fiction Part 1

Chapter 159: Kamchatka Wilderness, 1960

Kamchatka Wilderness

Soviet Union

1960

Shorty and Indy hiked through a thin layer of ash, like gray falling snow. Indy held the cigarette lighter ahead of them. The tiny wavering flame was the only thing between them and total darkness.

"Shorty, there's a lot I didn't get to teach you and a lot that I didn't know until I had daughters," Indy hunched his shoulders against the night air. He paused for a moment, shining the light around, trying to get their bearings.

Shorty looked at the ground. "The ash is already covering our tracks!"

"Its gonna be like that for awhile," Indy replied grimly. "There was an excavation I did in Mexico where the ash was five meters, over fifteen feet thick."

"Are we going to end up like Pompeii?" Shorty asked. "Boiled, baked alive and fossilized?"

"No. We have the ash warning. And we're moving further away. As long as the mountain holds we'll be fine." Indy squinted. "There's the trees."

He hiked forward a few steps, finding a fallen pine tree, then handed the hatchet to Shorty. "Chop as much as you can. We'll have to carry it with us. Tundra doesn't have a lot of trees."

Shorty took the hatchet. "This is awful small."

"Its the only thing we've got, son. And if we want to keep on living, aside from the volcano, we've got to make a fire."

Shorty obeyed. "You said you were going to tell me something? Something that would help Lizavet?"

"Yeah." Indy watched Shorty maneuver the hatchet. "You've never used one of these have you?"

"No."

"Put your hands on it, like your going to swing a baseball bat," Indy instructed. "Now, space 'em out a bit till it feels comfortable."

Shorty had the handle sideways. Indy stepped forward and adjusted the direction of the hatchet. "Next you're gonna lift it, backwards, over your shoulder and use the momentum of that forward swing to let the sharp end fall into the wood."

Shorty obeyed.

Indy watched with some amusement. "You gotta put some more force into it, but work with your body to make that happen. I'd show you - but -" He looked at his injured arm, still in a sling.

"That didn't stop you from grabbing Lizavet or Emily."

"No shoulder impact in a hug, son," Indy replied. "And a lot of that is instinct. It tends to overrule any pain I go through, especially if there are women or children at stake. Keep chopping. When was the last time you saw Lizavet?"

"1945," Shorty struck the hatchet against the downed tree. A branch fell. "I got it!"

"Good job," Indy grinned as Shorty looked at him for approval. "How old were you two?"

"We were both 18," Shorty answered, swinging the hatchet again, gaining confidence.

"That's fifteen years, Shorty. A lot can happen in that time." Indy took a restrained weary breath behind the fabric covering his face against the volcano's ash. "And way too much can happen in an instant."

Shorty struggled to pull the hatchet out of the wood. "You went back to Marion..."

"Put your foot on the log to brace it and turn the hatchet blade slightly sideways," Indy instructed.

The hatchet slipped away from the wood. Shorty stacked the pile and continued working.

Indy held the light steady, watching the ash fall. "Yeah. I went back to Marion. Three times... I got hit in the face each time and had to convince her I was worth it. I didn't just slam my face against hers and hope we were still in love."

"Oh." Shorty paused. "That's what I did."

"Uh-huh." Indy answered. "You scared her. And... I think someone else did too. Someone did some really horrible things to her in those fifteen years you were gone, Shorty."