by Linda Jacobs
Landers shook his blond head. “Everybody ran like rabbits yesterday. Now this morning those earthquakes have plumb stopped.”
“Stopped?” The last time they’d seen the park records, the rumbling in the earth had been almost constant and on the increase.
Landers put a hand flat on his linoleum counter. “Steady as a rock.”
Wyatt couldn’t believe that. Tremors must still be going on at a level lower than a person could detect.
Thankfully, it was fifty miles to Nez Perce Peak.
Kyle went to the ladies room and washed up, feeling as though her eyes were full of sand. Yet, as she smoothed her tangled hair and twisted it into a thick braid, she couldn’t help but be heartened by the memory of Wyatt’s fingers combing through it.
He hadn’t said he loved her; just that Alicia had come up with it. But with a smile, she realized he would never have uttered the word without meaning it.
If someone had asked her a week ago to name the people she loved, she would have begun with Stanton and Leila and then … she would have had to name Wyatt. All those days and nights of working together had bred the trust that allowed her to confide in him about Hebgen Lake, before she ever realized they’d be lovers.
In the seconds that followed, she felt a quiet adjustment inside her. Of course, she loved him, had loved him for years as her most cherished friend. It had just expanded like the fullness in her chest, the polar opposite of the emptiness she would feel at his loss. Franny had been wise to teach her that litmus test.
When she came out to the car, Wyatt had bought her coffee and doctored it with cream. Taking the wheel, she drove them past the park maintenance barns and up to the kiosk at the north entrance. A striped boom blocked the highway and she stopped.
“Let me handle this.” Wyatt got out and walked up to the small building.
“Hey, Teri,” Kyle heard him say say to the small ebony-haired woman who alone manned the border into the park. She didn’t look large enough to enforce anything, but the look on her face said she’d throw a drunk and disorderly onto the hood of a car and cuff him in a heartbeat.
“We must get to Mammoth,” Wyatt said.
“Off limits.” Teri wore a .45 on her hip.
Kyle couldn’t believe this. She’d been certain no one would question Wyatt’s right to break the evacuation order. Thinking to help, she shut off the engine and got out.
“Come on, Teri,” Wyatt said. “If it’s safe for you to be here …”
“We drew straws for the duty, everybody who didn’t have family.” Her jaw squared. “Maybe the National Guard will take over later if they have to call them out, but right now it’s just me.” She looked thoughtful. “You know they only left one person because they didn’t think anybody would want back into the park.”
“Teri, you have to let us in,” Wyatt insisted. “This is important.”
The young ranger’s expression softened, but she stood her ground. “I’m sorry, Wyatt.”
Kyle stepped forward. “I’m Dr. Kyle Stone of the Utah Institute. You might have seen me with Wyatt on TV?”
Teri’s eyes widened. “I didn’t see the show, but they’ve been playing parts of it over and over on Billings Live Eye.”
“Then you know how serious the situation is. Now Wyatt and I have to access some very important data from his computer in Mammoth.”
Teri spoke to Wyatt. “They said on TV she got fired. She was wrong about scaring everybody. They all ran and this morning everything’s fine.” Her slight quaver conveyed how badly she wanted to believe that.
“It’s not fine,” Wyatt said. “All of us are sitting on top of the teakettle’s whistle.”
Kyle tried again. “Right now, you’re stuck here not knowing what might happen. How about you let us get to Wyatt’s computer and we promise to call you … if it looks like you need to clear out?”
Teri looked at the empty town. A moment more of weighing duty versus common sense and she offered Wyatt her hand. “Deal.”
Kyle guided the low-slung Mercedes carefully up the dirt track into the park. Unspoken between her and Wyatt was the worry that Nick had carried out his plan and left at dawn for the backcountry. Although the arctic front was still on its way, the intermittent snow showers had subsided, leaving a weather window for a helicopter.
The closer they drew to Mammoth, the more she dreaded finding out.
They came down the hill into a ghost town. The hotel parking lot lay deserted. No lights brightened the dull morning in the Headquarters or Admin buildings. Not even the local elk were on the lawns.
When she pulled up in front of the Resource Center, she was surprised to see smoke issuing from its chimney. “Maybe that’s Nick.”
“I hope so,” Wyatt agreed. “He’ll know what’s been happening since last night.”
Inside, Radford Bullis greeted them from his corner office. “Thought I’d stay until you got here.”
“Who said we were coming?” Wyatt asked.
“Darden.”
Kyle looked down the hall toward Wyatt’s dark office. “Where is he?”
“Eagle Air from Gardiner flew him up this morning. Guy’s got brass balls. He had a moon suit flown in from USGS and winter gear in case he had to hike out. He said he’d call from his satellite phone to Wyatt’s office at noon.”
“I wish he had waited for us,” she said.
“You got a death wish, too?” Radford misunderstood, thinking she had wanted to go. He stared at the burning logs in the fireplace, his bushy brows knitted. “I’ve got Polly and our boys down in Gardiner. I was going to head up to Bozeman with them, but since the quakes have tapered off, maybe I should stay.”
“No, Radford,” Kyle said. “Twice now we’ve had major events preceded by a period of seismic quiet. If anything, I’d say it’s ominous.”
“Take care of your family,” Wyatt urged.
Kyle felt numb, as they talked about the impossible in calm tones.
Radford started to go and turned back. “Colin Gruy is flying back to USGS from Sakhalin today. When things settle down, we’ll have to sort out things with you and Hollis.” He shook his head. “Stanton was always right about you two needing a referee.”
Radford clapped Wyatt on the back and his broad bulk disappeared through the doors of the arctic entry.
She watched him go. “I’m not sure that was a vote of confidence.”
Wyatt led the way to his office, started his computer, and brought up the Institute website. Kyle watched over his shoulder as he typed in his username and password, and hit the return key.
A dialog box declared, “Your password is either invalid or has expired.”
“Shit!” Kyle kicked the desk leg with her hiking boot.
“That can’t be right.” Wyatt peered intently through his glasses. “Nick was using this account last night.”
“Hollis knew you’d bring me here to get into the system.”
“You’re probably right.” Three failed attempts to log on caused the site to lock Wyatt out.
She jumped up and paced a narrow oval between the desk and the credenza. If only Radford hadn’t left, maybe he could call Hollis and talk sense into him.
Wyatt was already on his feet. “Radford’s cell number was on my phone I lost in the canyon. I’ll get it from his office.”
Kyle followed him into the lobby. Radford’s door was locked.
Wyatt turned to Iniki’s desk. “She should have all the numbers.”
He tugged, but the desk drawers didn’t budge.
“What about somebody who can pull rank on Hollis?” Kyle suggested. “Janet Bolido?”
“The brass keep their cell numbers under wraps.”
She continued to cast about. “We’ll call Colin, no, he’s on the plane.”
Her hands made into fists. She felt like going back into Wyatt’s office and kicking his computer, or better yet kicking Hollis’s ass all the way to Sakhalin. She’d never forgive him if anything ha
ppened to Nick.
CHAPTER FORTY
OCTOBER 1
Nick studied Nez Perce Peak from the Saddle Valley. His view was unobstructed through bare trees left standing from the fires of ‘88. He’d had the helicopter land in the divide downslope from the cabin along the Saddle Valley Fault and stowed his equipment and camping gear at seismograph station four.
Using binoculars and a topographic map, Nick plotted out areas he wanted to stay clear of. Any of the reentrants that led down from the peak could be potential paths for a nuée ardente, a pyroclastic avalanche of gas and particles that would seek the path of least resistance. You got caught by one of those and ash would plug your mouth and nose until you suffocated, unless the air was superheated, in which case a single searing gasp would destroy your lungs. He had observed one of the deadly and fascinating events at the Soufrière Hills volcano on Montserrat in the West Indies back in 1977. High on the slope when the nuée rolled out of the crater, he’d had no place to run. With a pounding heart, he had raised his Nikon and watched the roiling cloud come at him through the lens. As flashes of St. Elmo’s fire illuminated the clouds above the crater, the electrical charge in the air from particle friction stood Nick’s hair on end.
The nuée came on, slowing on the broader areas and leaping down the narrower gullies. Expecting to be burned, buffeted off his feet, Nick snapped photos as fast as his auto-wind would cycle. If the camera made it, he hoped the community of volcano lovers would see the images as a fitting memorial.
Through the lens, he watched the cloud approach. The mass billowed over him and cut his visibility to zero, the stench of sulfur everywhere. Hunkering down, he waited for death. No time for regrets or what ifs.
To his amazement, he realized the cloud was composed of fine dust and surprisingly cool. Within moments, it lifted.
Hardly able to credit his fortune, he blinked grit from his eyes and realized the main body of the flow had passed around a hundred yards from him.
His pictures were spectacular.
The quake in the canyon had been another close call, but not a signal to run from the mountain as Kyle had imagined. In his mind’s eye, he saw her, slim and lovely, and tasted regret that he couldn’t lead two lives, one with her and the other in the field.
With his traverse planned to the top, Nick set out walking. Using a portable gravimeter, a million times more sensitive than the average bathroom scale, he measured gravity variations as the mountain lifted from magma’s upward press. The instrument could detect an inch of elevation difference by measuring the gravitational field to the center of the earth, nearly 4,000 miles below. Along with the gravimeter box, the size and weight of a car battery, he also carried silica tubes in his pack to collect gases on the crest.
Two hours later, he felt on top of the world. He stood on the mountaintop, frigid wind tearing at his parka and waterproof pants.
The weather ceiling did not obscure his view of the ranges surrounding Nez Perce. Over the shoulder of Mt. Chittenden to the southwest, he caught a glimpse of the Tetons nearly a hundred miles away. Thick clouds streamed into Jackson Hole, the winter front on its way.
Nick slid off his pack, brought out his water bottle, and took a pain pill for his throbbing head. He capped the bottle, sat, and rested on the ground littered with lightweight reddish cinders. When he’d run into the marble-sized material a few hundred yards down from the crest, he’d found it tougher walking than usual.
As he had done each time he climbed to the summit, he studied the shape of the mountain for clues as to what a new eruption might look like. There were several possibilities.
With magma beneath the peak, he thought the relatively soft material of the cinder cone might be ejected to form a small crater, as he’d told Kyle and Wyatt. Alternatively, if the molten rock located the zone of weakness along the Saddle Valley Fault, it could come rocketing to the surface along a long fissure, something he had not mentioned.
Or the whole mountain could blow. Nick was betting his life that didn’t happen.
He’d taken gravity readings all the way up, marking the positions with stone cairns. Data taken later in the same spot would reveal whether the cone was shrinking or swelling.
He drew out one of the silica tubes for a gas sample. The largest fumarole vented about thirty yards down from the mountain summit. Three days ago, when Nick had approached the three-inch opening it hissed like a kettle. Today a foot-wide aperture to hell roared like a furnace. Yellow crystals of sulfur rimmed the opening.
Nick donned leather gloves, knelt on the upwind side and turned his face away from the hydrogen chloride fumes. Feeling the heat, he wished for the moon suit he’d left at his camp. Next time he came up, he’d have to wear it.
After taking samples at two smaller fumaroles, he checked his watch. Already eleven, no way he could get back to call Kyle by noon. He’d considered lugging the four pound telephone up with him, but had wanted to collect samples.
Being up here alone was a two-sided proposition. He relished having a front row seat to watch a dormant volcano come to life, yet he wished Kyle were here to see it with him. It would even be nice to have Wyatt to joust with.
Nick started back down the mountain, stopping to take gravity readings in the same places as before. He searched for evidence the mountain continued to bulge.
“Come on, Nick,” Kyle said to the silent telephone in Wyatt’s office. The clock on the computer said it was almost one.
“Our boy is probably just caught up in the excitement,” Wyatt said.
“I wish we could call him, but Radford didn’t give us a number.”
“If he’s walking around, he’s not set up to take calls. The antenna must be aimed just right to pick up the satellite signal.”
“I can’t stand this.” Kyle fidgeted with a piece of glassy obsidian on the desk.
Wyatt studied her restless hands. “I suppose I should be pleased his being an adrenaline junkie came between you.”
“That isn’t really the problem.” She tossed the stone from hand to hand. “I would hate this waiting and wondering what danger he’s gotten into, but the bottom line is that he chooses his love affair with volcanoes over everything. It’s the only commitment he’s ever made.”
Wyatt sipped coffee he’d made from powdered instant. “I guess after Marie and the others you could say I’ve never made a lasting commitment.”
Kyle reached for his hand. “This thing with Nick has taught me that I don’t believe in miracles either. But, whether we knew it or not, Wyatt, you and I have been committed to each other for a long time.”
The telephone rang. She and Wyatt both started.
He passed the receiver across the desk to her.
“Nick?” Her mouth was dry.
“I’m on the mountain.” He sounded far away, as though more than miles separated them. “Set up a temporary camp at station four.”
“We saw Radford before he left with his family. He told us you’d gone.”
“Thanks for doing this.”
“Anything for you,” she said, with lightness she did not feel. “How’s your head?” An image of him, pale in a bloodstained bandage made her close her eyes.
“Only bothers me when the pills wear off.”
Anger broke through. “Nick, you shouldn’t be …”
“Save your breath, Kyle,” Wyatt stage-whispered
“What are you seeing from the seismic stations?” Nick evaded.
The focus of her pique shifted to Hollis. “Not a thing.” Across the desk, Wyatt was bringing up some of the older data, as it was all they had. Ruefully, she realized they had only themselves to blame for setting up the roadblock. “That weasel Delbert cut Wyatt’s security access. We can only get to the public data that’s forty-eight hours old.”
“That’s no good,” Nick grumbled. “This morning I made a gravity traverse to the peak and back. In the hour between readings, the mountain swelled rapidly.”
“How rapidl
y? We’ve already seen unprecedented rates of rise.”
“Up over a foot,” he related dispassionately.
“A foot an hour?” She clenched the receiver. “Nick, get out of there.”
“Call the chopper,” Wyatt said loudly. “Start walking down now.”
Kyle cast a worried look out the office window. Still no sign of the front, just cloudy bright. “If you don’t leave before the weather socks in, you may not be able to.”
As though she and Wyatt had said nothing, Nick went on, “It’s too bad you can’t look at the GPS data from all the stations. That would give us a picture of what’s bulging where.”
“If I can get that information, will you come down?” Kyle bargained. “We don’t need your gravity data if we can get to the changing elevations another way.”
“Any type of data will help us. What we learn here may save lives in some more populated volcanic area.” When she did not reply, he said in a lower tone, “Kyle … I don’t really have a death wish.”
She didn’t have an answer for that. “Stay by the phone, Nick. I’ll call you back as soon as I have something.”
“I want to go back up and take some more readings on the east side,” he said, “so I won’t be able to take incoming calls.”
“Nick.”
“I’ll keep the phone with me and call you every ten minutes,” he promised.
As soon as the line was disconnected, Kyle told Wyatt. “Start establishing a baseline from the GPS records in the public area. I’m going to get us back in.”
“How? Colin’s probably still on the plane from Tokyo.”
She began punching buttons on the phone. “I’m calling Hollis.”
Listening to the ringing, she considered how to play it. Butting chests wasn’t likely to be the best approach with him drunk on his imagined authority.
On the third ring, he answered. She envisioned him behind the desk he’d set up facing the door for intimidation.
“Hollis, this is Kyle. I’m in Wyatt Ellison’s office at Yellowstone.”
“What are you doing there? I thought the park was evacuated.”
