Caldera

by Larry LaVoie

  Jason stirred in a fitful sleep. He was having the same recurring dream he’d had since he’d arrived in Sumatra. He was sitting in a dingy bar consuming alcohol to drown out the images of gray faces looking at him through lifeless zombie eyes. The more he drank the more faces he saw, they were marching like an army out of the side of Mount Talang, kind of an eruption of people, dead people. Suddenly he was in the air with the steady trump of the helicopter blades reverberating in his head. He had to get to the ground to tell the people to get back, get away from the mountain, but he was stuck in the air. He went to the front of the craft to see the pilot and to his horror no one was there. He grabbed the controls and the helicopter went into a dive. Then the mountain erupted, a pyroclastic flow enveloping the hoards of people in seconds. He was in the air again. The devastation loomed below him in a drab deadly vale of flattened forest, leafless trees, a surreal landscape covered with a two-meter-thick layer of ash. He stirred again and let out a moan.

  “Jason.” He felt his shoulder shaking.

  He turned his head and lifted heavy eyelids to a pair of crystal blue eyes staring back at him.

  “What is it?” He abruptly realized he was back in the airplane. He’d slipped down in the seat and his neck ached from being contorted. The last thing he remembered was telling Carlene he was going to get some shut-eye.

  “You were dreaming?”

  “More like a nightmare,” Jason said. “How long was I out?”

  “Couple of hours. You missed the first meal.”

  “I could use some water,” Jason said.

  “Have some of mine.” Carlene handed him a can of club soda.

  Jason tipped it up and drained it. She was staring at him again. “What?”

  “I didn’t mean you could have all of it.”

  “Thanks. Could you wake me up for the next meal?” He folded his muscular arms and closed his eyes again.

  Carlene jabbed her elbow in his ribs.

  Jason smiled and drifted off again.

  Jason woke with a start, the chill of an ice cube slipping down his shirt. He tugged at his shirt and gave Carlene a dirty look.

  “You told me to wake you,” she said.

  He picked at his meal, chicken under a sauce that he didn’t recognize. It had a sweet citrus taste and had been called Chicken Ala something, by the flight attendant. It looked better than the beef, he thought, eyeing the meal on his right. Carlene was picking at a pasta dish.

  “Looks good,” he said nodding at her plate.

  Silence.

  He knew what was bugging her. “Why do you need to know what happened?” he asked.

  She looked at him, finished chewing and swallowed. “Because I don’t want it happening to me some day.”

  “I doubt you’ll ever be put on the spot like I was.”

  “I know that someday people are going to be relying on me, just the way they were you.”

  “You think I didn’t want to go?”

  “I know you didn’t fly to Sumatra when they asked.”

  Jason emptied half a tiny bottle of merlot into his plastic glass. “You think you know everything.”

  “Then why don’t you tell me?” she asked.

  “I had other obligations. I didn’t ask Talang to blow up when it did.” He really didn’t want to have this conversation.

  “You finally went.”

  “Threats,” Jason said.

  “From who?”

  “Sanders, who else?”

  She nodded remembering her conversation with Peter Frank. When she said she wasn’t going to go he had called Sanders and she was on a plane right out of Portland. “He can be an insensitive asshole from what I hear,” Carlene said. She reached over and picked up his salad. “You’re not going to eat this, are you?”

  “Take it,” Jason said.

  He watched her eating. “I got cold feet.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I was afraid to go.”

  “Why?”

  “Why is anyone afraid?”

  “You’re avoiding the question.”

  Jason drank his wine. “Does May 18th mean anything to you?

  “The day of the first Talang eruption.”

  “The day Mount St. Helens erupted,” Jason corrected.

  “Your father died that day. I know.” Carlene said.

  “Bainbridge killed him.”

  “That’s unfair. He couldn’t have known.”

  “He knew. He set the Red Zones too close to the mountain. He could have stopped my father from going up in the helicopter. I was there I heard him.”

  “You can’t possibly think he knew it was going to erupt that day.”

  “He should have known.”

  “So why didn’t you leave for Talang?”

  “May 18th. The anniversary of my father’s death. We were up on St. Helens.”

  “You put it off till the next day?”

  “I didn’t think it would matter.”

  “I’ll bet that didn’t set well with Sanders.”

  “I told Sanders to go to hell, so to speak.” He grinned.

  She laughed. “Not many have done that and gotten away with it.”

  Jason smiled in reflection. “I was hoping he’d fire me.”

  “Obviously he didn’t.”

  “Pity,” Jason said.

  Chapter 10

  Salt Lake City, Utah

  The attorney’s office fronted on State Street less than a mile from the State Capitol building in Salt Lake City. Jason stood in front of the marble palace reading the plaque beside the thick glass door; Schider, Crest and Ackerman Attorneys at Law. He entered and walked across the spacious lobby to the open elevator. He was dressed in the only thing he had left that was clean, a pair of tan twill slacks and a navy shirt. He felt out of place in the regal surroundings. A woman wearing a long coat over a rose-colored dress slipped in beside Jason. Two men, looking like twins in matching pinstripe navy suits stepped on and called out their floors to Jason. Jason ignored them and pushed the button for his floor. He who controls the buttons rules, Jason mused. The rosewood-paneled cube quickly bypassed all the floors not stopping until it reached the top. The doors opened to a lavish penthouse. As Jason exited, he turned to the other occupants and smiled. His hiking boots sunk into the plush blue carpet as he tramped down the hall to a pair of smoked-glass panel doors. Gold letters displayed Ackerman on the front. Jason entered a lavish room of polished glass and mahogany-paneled walls.

  “You’re Mr. Trask?” a man wearing thin glasses sitting in front of a computer asked.

  Jason nodded.

  “Down the hall. The others have already arrived.”

  Jason headed toward a set of tall sculpted doors at the end of the hall. “I hope I never have to get an attorney,” he muttered, still considering the opulence of it all. Inside he saw a man looking like a young Milton Bainbridge sitting at a long glass-topped table. He appeared to be in his late forties. His hair was gray and shoulder length, but unlike Milton, his mustache and goatee had black streaks.

  “You must be Dr. Trask.” The man offered his hand. “I’m Greg Bainbridge.”

  Jason shook his hand. “I can see the resemblance. I’m sorry about your father.”

  “This is—”

  “We’ve already met,” Jason said, nodding to Carlene. “Good morning, Ms. Carlson.”

  He wondered where she came up with the open-neck silk blouse with a small string of freshwater pearls. A thin gold chain around a wrist held a Medic Alert tag just above a man’s watch with a leather band. She had dumped the cowboy look and for the first time he saw an attractive woman.

  “My father didn’t have much family,” Greg said.

  “Any idea why I’m here?” Jason asked.

  Greg shrugged, gave them all a weak smile and said, “I don’t even know why I’m here. My father and I were never very close.”

  Jason turned to Carlene. “You’re the only one who seems to know anything.”
r />   She answered Greg, ignoring Jason, “Your father and I worked closely together. I was with him when he died.”

  “I don’t think she was sleeping with him.” Jason said with a smirk.

  Greg’s mouth fell open.

  “You’re a horse’s ass,” Carlene said. “Worse than the rumors.”

  Jason pulled out a chair across from them and dropped into it.

  “Your father must have done all right for himself,” Jason said, glancing at the crystal clock on a shelf behind them. He turned and stared out the window at Temple Square. The door opened and he turned around.

  The man entering was wearing a three-piece suit with a gold chain dangling from a watch pocket in his vest. He brushed at his thinning hair and adjusted large frame glasses.

  “Good, everyone is here. I’m Milton’s attorney, Allen Ackerman.” He dropped a folder on the table and extended a hand to Greg, then Carlene. He reached across to Jason.

  “I know your time is valuable,” Jason said. “Could we get on with this? I need to get to a volcano.”

  Greg smiled. Carlene furrowed her brow and glared at Jason.

  “Of course,” Ackerman said. “This won’t take but a minute.” He sat down and opened the folder.

  Jason stood in front of the elevator. Greg Bainbridge and Carlene approached from behind. He turned to them and said, “How about I buy you guys a drink.”

  Greg Bainbridge glanced at his watch. “I’ve got a plane to catch in an hour. Can we do it at the airport?”

  “I thought you had a volcano to tend,” Carlene said.

  “Ackerman was racking up hours on the meter,” Jason said. “I probably saved Greg a thousand dollars.”

  “In that case I’ll buy,” Greg said. “I’m the only one who ended up with any money.”

  “I have something to celebrate,” Carlene said.

  In an airport bar Jason pulled out a chair for Carlene. She draped her coat over the back and sat in the chair next to it. Greg put down his carry-on luggage and sat next to Carlene.

  “I’ll have a club soda with a twist of lime,” Carlene said to the waitress.

  “Double Dewar’s on the rocks,” Greg said.

  Jason ordered Johnny Walker on the rocks.

  “My old man hasn’t changed,” Greg said. “What did you make of that will?”

  “I was surprised he had accumulated so much,” Jason said. “He always seemed pretty frugal.”

  “He invested in the companies he consulted for,” Carlene said. “Mostly sites rich in kimberlite.”

  “Diamond mines,” Jason said. “Diamonds are found in volcanic areas rich in kimberlite.”

  “So that’s what the stock is,” Greg said.

  “Don’t go out and spend it,” Jason said. “Very few sites pay off.”

  Carlene nodded. “About time he let me graduate. He made me write my master’s thesis three times, but ...” she held up the parchment and gave them a proud smile. “I now have my piece of paper.”

  “Congratulations,” Jason said. “I was kidding about you sleeping with Milton.”

  “Like hell.”

  Jason turned to Greg. “You heard me, Greg. I tried to apologize.”

  “I’m keeping out of this,” Greg said. He turned to Carlene. “Deep down I knew my father loved my mom. I just couldn’t bring myself to forgive him for not being there when she died.”

  “He loved you, too,” Carlene said. “I could see it in his eyes when he talked about you.”

  Jason took a sip of his drink and leaned back in his chair. “You know, I was with your dad when Mount St. Helens erupted. He let my dad go up in an airplane to take a Co-spec reading. I never forgave him for that.”

  Greg took on a serious look. “Seems like he made a lot of mistakes. Why do you suppose he left you his computers?”

  “Damned if I know. Probably something he was working on. Any idea where they are?”

  Greg reached in his pocket and pulled out a key. “Probably at his house. You’re welcome to check it out and send me the key. I’m not going to clean it out for a few weeks. I need to get a Realtor and ... well, you know.” he shrugged and slid the key across to him. “The address is on the tag.” He checked his watch again. “I’ve got to run. Leave the key under the mat.”

  They watched Greg Bainbridge scurry down the hall and disappear into the crowd.

  “Dr. Bainbridge must have thought a lot of you,” Carlene said to Jason.

  “Every time I think of Bainbridge I’m six years old again. He’s telling the others like I’m not even there, ‘I think we lost John Trask,’ and I’m sitting there in the middle of chaos wondering what’s going on.”

  “You can’t blame him for that, Jason, he was in the middle of a crisis. He probably did forget you were there.”

  “I know ... later I learned a lot from him, but I could never get that picture out of my mind.” He held up the key. “We got the key to his place. How about helping me find my inheritance?”

  “I can’t believe Greg trusted you with the key.”

  “I may be hard to get along with, but I’m trustworthy,” Jason said. He swirled the cubes in his glass and downed the last of his drink.

  Carlene didn’t respond.

  Jason got up. “You have a minor in engineering. That makes you at least curious.” He smiled and grabbed her coat. “Come on, let’s see what secrets the old man was keeping.”

  “I’m only doing this to make sure you don’t rob the place,” Carlene said.

  Jason helped her on with her coat. “You’re as curious as I am. Why would a dying man leave his computers to someone he knows doesn’t like him?”

  They stood outside Dr. Bainbridge’s house, a brick-front two-story with a wide driveway and poorly kept lawn.

  “Not much of a gardener,” Jason said.

  “Give the man a break,” Carlene said. “He spent most of his time in Yellowstone.”

  “I spent a lot of months up there myself,” Jason said.

  “Really? Why’d you leave?”

  “Come on. Let’s get this over with.” Jason started up the walk.

  Carlene caught up with him as he opened the door. He stepped back and let her in. She looked around the room. “Bainbridge and I worked closely together, but he didn’t say much about his personal life.”

  “Smells musty,” Jason said. The room was dark except for the light from the open door. Carlene drew the curtains letting in the afternoon sunlight. It reminded Jason of his grandmother’s home, worn but neatly arranged. Everything had its place. The end tables and coffee table were matching showing the scars of years of use. Jason picked up a copy of National Geographic. The pages were yellow and the cover worn. He flipped through it and saw an advertisement for a 1949 Hudson Hornet. “What exactly was your relationship with the old man? Before you get upset, he went to great lengths to make sure you got your degree. Almost like he knew he was going to die.”

  “He thought Yellowstone was going to erupt. I was his only graduate student, and his assistant.” She shrugged. “Who knows what he was thinking.”

  “You were just a student?”

  I’m going to ignore your crude inference. “I think he thought of me as a daughter he never had. More importantly I was a better student than the undergraduates. I studied under him off and on for six years. This last year we spent a lot of time in Yellowstone.” She paused to reflect. “Things started happening just before he left on vacation. Then he made a sudden trip to Washington.”

  “Like in DC?”

  She nodded. “He called and said he was going to the White House.”

  “But you said he died in Portland?”

  “It was a stop on the way back. He was supposed to change planes there. I barely made it to him in time. He was weak. He must have known it was coming. He insisted I find you.”

  Jason pursed his lips and shrugged. “I’ll see if I can find his computer.” He left Carlene as she was going through some books beside the couch
and ran up the stairs.

  “This must be his study,” Jason called out. He wrinkled his nose at the stale air. The smell of tobacco smoke was on everything. Bookshelves floor to ceiling lined a wall behind a large oak desk. On the floor were stacks of papers, folders and note books. It looked like he had saved every term paper he’d come across in the past fifty years. An overstuffed leather chair buried under textbooks was in a corner by the window. A tall lamp with a yellowed cloth shade stood behind it. Jason turned on the lamp.

  A mini-tower computer sat beside the desk and an oversized monitor sat on top with a keyboard in front of it. Jason leaned down and pushed the switch, shook his head and looked to see if it was plugged in. He started opening drawers.

  “You found it.” Carlene said. She was silhouetted in the doorway.

  “Doesn’t work.” He found a screwdriver and removed the tower case and looked inside.

  “What are you doing?”

  He fumbled with some wires and found a plug resting on top of the mother board. “The hard drive’s been replaced.”

  “Maybe he had a problem?”

  “Whoever replaced it didn’t take the time to plug it in. The angle of the monitor and placement of the keyboard, I doubt Bainbridge did it.”

  Jason plugged it in and tried to fire it up. “It’s a complete blank.”

  “I don’t understand.” Carlene was leaning over his shoulder.

  Jason rocked back and looked up at her. “Someone wanted what was on the old man’s machine.”

  “Who?”

  “Beats me?”

  “What about his laptop?” Carlene asked.

  “He had a laptop?”

  “He never went anywhere without it.”

  “Maybe they cremated it with him.”

  “Very funny.”

  Jason turned around in the chair and started to get up. Carlene had a puzzled look on her face.

  “Just a minute,” she said. “I picked up his belongings from the hospital. His laptop should have been there.”