Read Online The Volcano That Changed The World by James W. Mercer - Free Book Online Page B

hugged the cliffs as if held in place by some magical force. Sprinkled among the white structures were churches with small deep-blue-colored domed roofs. In the center of each dome was a white cross, symbol of the Greek Orthodox religion that dominated Santorini. Many of the churches were small and appeared part of individual’s homes.
    He tried to locate the ancient ruins of Akrotiri on the southwest side of the island, but couldn’t quite make them out. He had read about the ruins and knew he would be spending time there. As the plane banked to the right, Mark turned his attention elsewhere.
    The back side of the island arc sloped gently down from the cliffs to the sea. Along the descending grade to the blue water were thick patches of green vegetation, a testament to the fertile soil created by the volcanic ash. The warm Mediterranean climate also contributed to the local agriculture.
    Located on the relatively flat eastern side of the island, the small airport was near the village of Kamari. It had a small apron, a runway of about seven thousand feet, and was only able to serve a maximum of six commercial planes at a time. Mark could see three small planes on the ground.
    His plane landed and after several bounces, slowed and taxied briefly to a low, whitewashed building with multiple arches. Exiting the little airplane directly onto the tarmac, Mark felt the warm, dry air engulf his body, a rejuvenating force that further energized his travel-weary limbs. He stood and stretched, glad to be back on terra firma. Gathering up his backpack, he entered the mostly open-air building to collect his other belongings, which had been offloaded promptly. Glancing around, he saw a striking, tall female in khaki shorts and matching shirt holding up a sign with his name on it.
    As he approached her, she asked him in a slight British accent, “Are you Dr. Malloy?”
    “Yes,” Mark respon ded, suddenly aware that he hadn’t shaved or brushed his teeth in the last twenty-four hours.
    Extending her hand, she introduced herself, “I’m Dr. Alexandra Papadopulos.”
    He shook it, saying, “Hello. It’s nice to finally meet you, Dr. Papadopulos. Please call me Mark.” He noticed her firm grip with pleasure. She seemed a little older than he and had an air of confidence about her.
    “Nice to meet you too. And likewise, please call me Alexia. How were your flights?” At that moment, a gust of wind caused her shoulder-length brown hair to float around her face as her large brown eyes remained fixed on him.
    “My l ast flight was the best, seeing all those islands. There were countless boats, from small fishing boats to very large cruise ships, travelling among the islands on what appeared to be calm waters of varying shades of blue. This certainly is a beautiful part of the world.”
    She smiled with pride. “ Yes, we Greeks have many beautiful islands. Santorini is part of the Greek archipelago. It is one of the southernmost islands of the Cyclades in the Aegean Sea. About sixty-eight miles south is Crete, where I live.”
    Mark had a tendency to develop first impressions, sizing up people he just met; he took an instant liking to Alexia. She seemed joyful, at ease with herself, a change from what he was used to with Sara Jo. He looked forward to working with her.
    Before he could say anything else, she continued, “You must be tired. Let me take you to your hotel.”
    Carrying his two bags and backpack, he followed her to a small jeep with its top down. It reminded him of the ones used during World War II and looked almost as old.
    She pointed to the back. “You can t hrow your luggage back there. Hop in. We rarely put the top up here. Hope you don’t mind a little wind.”
    “Not at all.” He breathed in the fresh sea air, which reminded him of Panama City but with much less humidity. As they left the small airport parking area and drove south, the breeze from the jeep’s motion caressed his head. For a moment, he closed