Apocalypse Atlantis: Historical Archeological Action Adventure (Nick LaBounty Series Book 2) by Jay C. LaBarge

Author:Jay C. LaBarge [LaBarge, Jay C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LaBarge Enterprises
Published: 2022-04-25T00:00:00+00:00

Nick picked up Artemis back at the research station. A kindly assistant of Jim’s had watched her, enjoying the company. Gathering his things, Nick caught the short ferry ride back to Santorini. He wasn’t about to subject the dog to any of Big Jim’s flying exploits.

On the ferry, Nick started thinking about his plans. Agenda item number one: Grab a bite. Item two: Find a place to crash for the night, preferably with access to Akrotiri. He wanted to visit the famed ancient town from the time of the eruption. Persa was still on duty on the Serafina, so no need to reach out there. Which made him think about his real muse.

I owe Charlie a call about Soba, he thought. Even here, with all this, I miss her.

An old grizzled fisherman sitting nearby befriended Artemis, giving her a scrap of his sandwich. Artemis leaned into him, and was rewarded with a heavy-handed stroking. From tough calloused hands, shaped from pulling heavy nets over many years. Nick noticed that others on the ferry seemed to avoid the fisherman. A caste system even here, in the scattered islands of the Aegean.

“Mastiff, good breed,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “Strong. Loyal.”

“Same as Molossus?” Nick asked.

“Da. Molossus ancient time. Mastiff now.”

“She seems to have adopted me.”

“Will serve you well,” the fisherman said.

They struck up a light conversation, Nick with his few words of Greek, the fisherman in his stilted English. Nick learned what fish were most plentiful, the best bait, how to take advantage of changing tides and seasons. Of the travails of being a simple fisherman. He was fascinated by the man and the lore of the stories he told.

“Come. I buy you drink. I tell you of sea. You tell me of Amerikí.”

Nick noticed a subtle lilt to the man’s accent, different than the Greek he had heard in Athens.

“Your Greek sounds different. Is it a regional accent?” he asked.

“Ha. It what called Cretan Greek. You know, from Crete.”

The ferry docked back at Athinios, the New Port of Santorini. Asking of Nick’s plans, the old fisherman was insistent when he heard Nick intended to visit Akrotiri.

“I live south side island. Close Akrotiri. Come.”

“OK, I surrender,” Nick said, extending a hand. He didn’t want to offend the kindly old salt. Frankly he was intrigued by him, and what he could learn of the local people and customs.

“I’m Nick, pleased to meet you.”

“Zorba. Zorba Balaskas,” he replied.

Nick climbed into the front of his decrepit pickup truck. Artemis jumped in back, among the piles of worn nets and faded floats. The drive wound along the cliffs overlooking the edge of the great caldera. The sun was just starting to set, the view of the Nea Kameni and Palia Kameni out in the middle captivating. In twenty minutes, they pulled to a stop and got out.

“There my boat,” Zorba proudly pointed. It bobbed just offshore, among several other nearly identical boats. All sturdy, weathered, and well used, just like the man.

“This where do real work.

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