Page 27 of Eruption

“Looks like he’s saying it’sU.”

“Icetubb?” MacGregor said.

“Does that mean anything to you?” Jepson asked.

“No.”

With the heel of his hand, the general pushed away the paper. He seemed to be irritated. The nurse removed that paper and placed a fresh sheet on the table.

“Now let’s see if he draws the symbol,” Jepson said.

The general drew again: a lopsided circle surrounded by arc-shaped lines.Like a sort of halo,Mac thought.

“We can’t figure that out either,” Jepson said.

Again, the general pushed the paper away. He gave a long sigh and went limp. The pencil fell from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

“If this is frustrating for us,” Jepson said, “imagine how frustrating it is for him.”

The nurse picked up the pencil. With his head drooping to the side, almost as if it might roll off his shoulders, General Bennettwatched her, eyes blank. But then his hand began to move in a restless motion, as if he were conducting an unseen orchestra.

“Ah, this is something new,” Jepson said to Mac. “Usually, he’s done.” To Bennett he said, “General? You want to write more?”

The nurse gave the old man another sheet of paper and placed the pencil back in his hand.

“We’re trying to understand, sir,” Jepson said, leaning close to him.

General Bennett shook his head slightly and drew again. They all watched as the pencil began to move.

A circle.

Then straight lines coming out from the circle and looping back.

Three lines in all.

Jepson said, “Petals on a flower? Propeller blades? A fan?” Like this was some kind of quiz show.

It certainly looked like a fan, Mac thought. Blades of a fan sticking out from a central rotor. But the old man was shaking his head. And something was nagging at the back of John MacGregor’s mind. Just three blades.

He was sure he knew what that image was…

General Bennett began to draw again. This time, his hand described big loops.

“This is new,” Jepson said. “What is it? That’s a lowercasea… and that’s a capitalB… and—what’s that? It’s just a loop… is it ad?”

In a flash of insight, Mac saw it. “No,” he said. “It’s Greek. It’s a gamma.”

The general gave a sigh, nodded, and slumped back against the pillow, exhausted.

MacGregor said, “He’s drawn the first three letters of the Greek alphabet: alpha, beta, gamma. But—”

“That is correct,” said a voice behind them. MacGregor turned and saw a man in his sixties, white-haired, trim, and fit. He introduced himself as James Briggs. “I was General Bennett’s adjutant for the last nine years of his command before he retired. Dr. MacGregor?”

“Call me Mac.” They shook hands.

Briggs leaned over Bennett and placed his hand on his shoulder. “I know what you’re trying to tell us,” Briggs said. “And don’t worry, we’ll take care of it. You just rest now, sir.”

Then he carefully collected all the pieces of paper the general had drawn on, folded them, and put them in his pocket.