Free The Volcano That Changed The World by James W. Mercer

his eyes and simply enjoyed the island’s impact on his other senses—the smells, the sounds, and the feel of the breeze. I’m actually here; I’m on Santorini, he thought. It felt oddly familiar but he couldn’t figure out why; he didn’t remember the vision of the island that he had during his final minutes awake in the ice core lab.
    Facing Mark , Alexia yelled over the roar of the wind, “Many ancient artifacts have been found near here. This area around Kamari was the post-Minoan port of the ancient capital of Thera.”
    Turning her head back toward the road, she added, “We are staying at the Pension St. James, not far away. The hotel literature describes it as a cheap beach hotel with ten spacious ‘bungalow-style’ rooms. You can judge for yourself; it’s a comfortable place, affordable on a professor’s salary—or for a government employee like me.” She glanced at him and smiled. He returned the smile, thinking that she certainly matched the beautiful surroundings.
    He yelled back to be heard over the wind, “As long as it has a bed, I’ll like it.”
    She nodded , “Each room also has a balcony with a view. They overlook the Perissa-Perivolos Beach, only about twenty-five meters away. Plus, from the hotel, it is only a ten-minute drive west to Akrotiri, where our excavation is located.”
    “Living on the beach and working on Santorini isn’t a bad way to spend one’s summer ,” he said while observing the view.
    Alexia glanced his way, smiling in agreement.
    After only a few minutes of driving, they arrived at the hotel. It was small but seemed very clean on the outside. Mark got out of the jeep and took in his surroundings. Alexandra saw him staring up at the roof.
    “Is everything okay?” she asked.
    “Yes,” he said. “It’s just that everything is so clean. That roof is gleaming.”
    She smiled again . “We have a typical Mediterranean climate here with very little rainfall. What rain does fall is captured in cisterns and used for water supply. Consequently, the catchment areas on the roofs that feed into the cisterns must be kept especially clean.”
    Nodding, he commented, “So the water I will dri nk is runoff from the roof. I will have to remember to take short showers,” he said, joking.
    “Water is in short supply here and is important to us.”
    “It’s like Mark Twain supposedly said, ‘Whiskey is for drinking; water is for fighting over.’” Mark had a fondness for Samuel L. Clemens, who was born in his home state of Florida.
    “ Mr. Twain was right. For bathing, you also have the option to just go for a swim in the sea,” Alexia offered.
    He l ooked at her and then at the sparkling water behind her. He concluded that she was serious. “I’ll keep that option in mind,” he said as they headed toward the hotel.
    After p assing through the entrance and a bright open-air courtyard, they approached the reception desk. Behind the desk sat a young woman wearing a yellow sundress that displayed her well-tanned body.
    She greeted them in English with a heavy Greek accent, “Welcome to the St. James.”
    Alexia introduced Mark to Elektra Dukas. “She pretty much runs the St. James. If you need anything, she’s the one to see.”
    Elektra was in her early twenties with a bright, cute face framed by long brown hair. She had enchanting liquid-brown eyes.
    After checking him in, she and Alexia showed him to his room. Alexia helped by carrying his backpack while Mark toted the rest of the luggage. It was a short walk, all outside.  Elektra opened the door to a room that was reasonably spacious and, as advertised, had a view of the beach just visible between two buildings.
    As the women left the room, Alexia turned to Mark and said, “Why don’t you settle in and freshen up? I will come back in half an hour and we can walk to the beach for dinner. There are several taverns and beach bars there from which to choose. I know you must be tired, so we can try to make it an