The Fault With The Spy

by Linda Mackay

  “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “Not your fault the geologic technology has moved faster than me. It’s not easy getting old and realizing while your theories are being proven, you aren’t getting the credit. Did you know that two young PhD candidates got a multi-million dollar grant to prove something I proved twenty years ago?”

  “I know.”

  “Those kids have new technology, which supposedly legitimizes their findings over mine. It’s a new world, Jorie. They don’t even acknowledge me or other rogue geologists and volcanologists for our discoveries. They say we were guessing.”

  He was right. Grant money of unimaginable amounts was being awarded daily. Robots and other technology had overwritten many of the great findings of dig-in-the-dirt geologists. It was like comparing the achievements of the first explorers traveling around the globe in a wooden ship, to daily making the journey in a 747. Today the world ignores and discredits amazing historical achievements to reward the speed of technology and the results money can buy. I’m not saying technology isn’t great because without it I wouldn’t be making new discoveries every season. But, I am one of the few who believes those who didn’t have access to such dynamic technology are the true pioneers of discovery.

  “I wasn’t trying to discredit your belief there won’t be concrete proof.” Did I just make a joke at my dad’s expense? I’m so going to hell. “I just need to try in case we can find something in the concrete.”

  “Jorie, I should’ve thought of that. I was just so pumped up that someone had tried to fool the entire world, and I might be able to cast doubt on it, that I lost sight of the bigger picture.” Dad took a deep breath. “I’ve reached my expiration date, out-of-touch, need to be put out to pasture.”

  “Not hardly. If any freshly-minted PhD had been standing where you were, I bet they wouldn’t have questioned anything. They’d have taken a selfie with their smartphone then tweeted it. Eyes-on-old-school is still unbeatable in my book.”

  “You’re a good kid, and a bad liar.” Dad started to walk away, “by the way, that bad concrete joke, cements my love for you.”

  “Love you too, Dad.”

  Todd banged a spoon on the pot. “Dinner’s served.”

  He’d rehydrated the steak and potatoes using beef bouillon cubes in the water. It made a yummy stew that tasted even better after surviving on cold sandwiches. While eating I thought about what Dad had said. Technology was the trump card if you wanted a large grant in Yellowstone, and technology would’ve been the key to pulling off the assassination plot. I ran through the list of people with that technology, and couldn’t imagine any of them being a part of a plot this heinous. On the other hand their research, even if it hadn’t been published yet, could be accessed by a lot of high-ranking officials. I could name dozens of people who were politically motivated or power hungry enough to do a lot of unethical things, but even for them this was way over the top. However, one name kept rattling around in my brain. Ford Kendrick. Douche donut extraordinaire. He’d sellout his kids for a used car. I wondered what he’d do for a payout as big as this one.

  He started out as an underpaid government employee who passed off the hard work on his interns while he took sole credit on their findings. One day, to the joy of everyone I knew at the USGS, he quit without notice and took a job as President of an oil and gas exploration company that had been embroiled in nasty lawsuits over land use. It was a perfect match.

  What didn’t make sense was Marty Thomas hated Kendrick. They’d clashed numerous times through the years over Kendrick illegally camping on fragile ground in the backcountry and leaving behind enough trash to overflow a small landfill. Marty said Kendrick was like an asshole on crack, spewing shit at a hundred miles an hour. I couldn’t imagine Marty sitting down long enough to listen to any plan from Kendrick, but money has been known to create strange partnerships.

  Kendrick had power and money. Something was either threatening that or offering a massive payoff for him to be involved.

  “Anyone know what Ford Kendrick has been up to lately?”

  “Who cares what that Douche Dog is up to?” Todd scrunched his face like he’d sucked on a lemon.

  “Whatever it is I bet it’s got skanky written all over it,” Amanda said. “Oh boy, I know what you’re thinking.”

  “Kendrick.” Dad said it like he’d eaten a bite of raw meat from a rotting bison carcass.

  “I assume none of you like this guy?” Mac asked.

  “Special Forces, he is so vile there are no words in the English language to properly describe him.”

  “Well then, sugar, tell me all about him, and I’ll see if I can come up with a word in another language that fits.”

  An hour later Mac was still asking questions about Kendrick. Problem was once he left the USGS none of us cared enough about His Evilness to pay any real attention to his latest escapades. Dad had the most information since he had contact with people working in mineral rights and exploration, but even that was limited because he couldn’t stand the guy. It was like talking about the one who can’t be named. The less said the better.

  “Paskudnik.”

  “Pass the what?” I asked.

  “Paskudnik,” Mac said. “It’s a name for Kendrick. It’s Yiddish for a revolting, evil person.”

  Todd laughed. “Hey Paskudnik, you suck.”

  “I don’t remember Yiddish being one of your many languages,” I said.

  “The agent in the office next to mine was Jewish, and we had dinner at his grandmother’s house numerous times. I managed to pick up a few fun words from her. Just curious, how much food do we have left?”

  Frank scratched his head. “Let’s see we’ve been out six days, so we have eight days left. You might not enjoy the last couple days if we had to use it since it’s emergency rations that don’t take up a lot of room.”

  “Nothing quite like living on jerky,” Todd said.

  “Makes me constipated.” Amanda shook her head.

  “I brought fruit snacks.” Todd flicked the brim of Amanda’s hat.

  “You’ve been holding out. Gimme. Gimme.”

  “They’re part of the emergency food supply, so you’ll have to hope we’re out here for another week.”

  Amanda made the sign of the cross. “No thanks. Hey Mac, got any more of those gummy bears?”

  “Nope, they were gone second day out from the Diabetic Duo mooching them.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Todd, give that girl some fruit snacks before she has sugar withdrawals,” Frank said.

  “I’m going on record that if we’re stranded out here, she’s already eaten part of her rations and she can starve before I share.”

  “Duly noted son, duly noted.”

  Amanda stuck her tongue out at Todd. “If we’re still out here after two weeks you’ll need to be less worried about fruit snacks and more worried about your...”

  “Okay, that’s enough,” Frank interrupted. “I swear those two are like herding cats. Never going the same way, and if one don’t scratch ya the other one will.”

  The ground started to shake. A rumbling sound came from under the earth. Amanda and Todd hung on to each other so tightly they toppled over from the motion of the ground. Frank grabbed the tree trunk he was sitting under. Dad’s butt was firmly planted on the ground with his hands equal distance apart behind him and his legs doing the same in front of him. Mac started out standing and gave up trying to balance and squatted on the ground. I was hanging onto a lodgepole pine hoping it didn’t topple over and take me with it.

  The roar from underground grew so loud you couldn’t hear anyone talk even if they were yelling. The ground finally changed from a shaking movement to a slow rolling wave. A short distance in front of us the ground opened up. Steam and water shot in air. Simultaneously, the ground movement and underground roar stopped. The only remaining sound was the swooshing water of the geyser emptying its chamber.

  Todd climbed off Amanda where the moveme
nt had kept him grounded to her. “Holy geyser, we knew that pressure had to go somewhere. Sure wish it had been further away.”

  Amanda brushed off her clothes. “Did you notice any ground deformation over there earlier, Jorie?”

  “I saw new cracks in the ground, which is why I had us set up camp here. But I didn’t expect that reaction. At worst I thought it might continue to crack and drop the ground a tad.”

  “I’d call that more than a tad of deformation,” Todd said. “Wanna check it out?”

  “Not me,” Amanda said.

  “No thanks, I’m happy here.” The geologist in me should’ve wanted to go, the chicken in me didn’t.

  “I’ll go.” Dad said picking up his camera.

  I turned around and saw Frank still holding onto the tree and Mac hanging on to the ground. “You guys okay?”

  No answer.

  “Hey, Special Forces! You okay?”

  “Oh sure. And I was never in Special Forces!”

  “Frank, how about you?”

  “Never better.”

  Yeah right. I guess even tough dudes have their moments. Experiencing the creation of a new geyser so close to one’s tuchus is a good excuse to have a moment. Or maybe a heart attack. I put my hand on my heart hoping to slow the rapid beats, which I’m pretty sure were visible, like a cartoon character’s heart throbbing out of his chest. To hell with science, that scared the crap out of me. And I didn’t care to repeat the experience. “We might want to move further away from here.”

  “Don’t need to tell me twice,” Mac said.

  Frank released his hold on the tree and took a few uncertain steps before regaining his equilibrium. “Don’t need to pack it up tight, just throw it all over the saddles, tie it off, and let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Amanda and I dropped our tent, took the clothes off the clothesline and shoved them in our packs. Frank and Mac did the same. We saddled the horses that were still skittish from the sudden shaking under their hooves. “It’s okay guys. We’re getting out of here.”

  I rubbed Arikira’s chin and noticed there was blood on her neck. I didn’t know if a branch fell on her or if she had rubbed against something during the temblor. “Whoa girl, let me see what I can do for you.” She held still as I touched her neck. The wound wasn’t deep. I took off my jacket, then my tee shirt, poured water on it from a bottle lying by my pack and wiped the blood off. The cut was long, but fortunately not deep enough to need stitches.

  “Everything okay?” Mac said from behind me.

  “Not as bad as it looks. She’ll be fine.”

  “Trade you.”

  Mac held one of his tee shirts out for me. I looked down and saw two naked boobs flapping in the breeze. “Well, damn. Guess I forgot to put on a sports bra.” I handed the bloody shirt to Mac in exchange for his freshly washed one. It felt soft and comfy, and smelled like Mac. Not the week old haven’t-had-a-bath Mac, but the freshly washed scent of a male with a hint of musky deodorant. I may have an orgasm standing here if I keep thinking about it.

  “That is some crazy geyser. Just think someday there will be a parking lot over there so people can see the geyser that was created by killing a President.”

  “Todd, that’s crass.” Amanda said walking toward me. She put her hand on my shoulder and whispered. “What are you doing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re standing here rocking with your legs crossed tight. So you either have to pee or…don’t tell me, oh baby, I told you he was a hottie. I knew it was only a matter of time before you got worked up over that body. He may be too old for me, but I can still appreciate his fine attributes.”

  “Shut up, horn dog.” I was smiling. And I couldn’t stop.

  “Stop fighting it and let it fly.”

  “Amanda!”

  “Old people are so, what would you call it? Oh yeah, up tight.”

  “I’m not old, and I’m not up tight.”

  “Whose old?” Todd asked.

  “Jorie.”

  “I’m not old. My maturation rate is simply much higher than yours.”

  “Did she say her masturbation rate is higher than ours?” Todd asked.

  “I think so,” Amanda said.

  “No way. The overwhelming majority of hetero males to gay males in this valley makes me King of My Corral.”

  “I didn’t say masturbation!”

  “We’re in crisis mode and somebody’s masturbating?” Mac asked.

  “I hate all of you!” I threw the packs over my saddle and started walking Arikira. I didn’t care if anyone followed.

  Chapter 18

  I rolled over in my sleeping bag and groaned. Sitting up I stretched my arms and rolled my neck. Every muscle and joint hurt. The tumble down the scree slope had done more to prove I was old than my birth certificate. I unzipped the bag, climbed over a snoring Amanda and fell out of the tent flap.

  “Morning, grace.”

  “Coffee!” Over two million acres in the park and I keep waking up with Special Forces’ happy face.

  Mac poured me a steaming hot cup. “Are you always this delightful in the morning?”

  “Bite me, spy boy.”

  “Guess that would be a yes.”

  I looked around and didn’t see anyone else awake. “Are we it?”

  “Yep. I think the stress of the past week finally caught up with everyone.”

  “This coffee is exceptional.”

  “Thanks, it’s my own secret recipe.” Mac said taking another sip.

  “What’s the secret?”

  “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

  “I can’t believe you said that.”

  “You keep reminding me, once a spy, always a spy.”

  “More please.”

  Mac topped off my thermal mug and I inhaled deeply trying to figure out what his secret was. “Pine needles?”

  Mac shrugged his shoulders. I reached for the pot to open the lid and he smacked my hand away. “Curiosity killed the cat.”

  “I’m a scientist. And curiosity is my middle name.”

  “And here I thought it was Marie.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “An agent never reveals his sources.”

  “That’s a journalist, and I think they don’t reveal sources because they don’t have any, and just make shit up.”

  “Ah, you’re a conspiracy theorist.” Mac tossed the dregs of his coffee into the bushes.

  “More like I’ve been burned so many times, the truth seems unachievable.”

  “Pretty cynical view for someone outside of D.C.”

  “Remember, my paycheck is signed by the government.”

  “How about we agree you are cautious?”

  “Why are we being cautious? Is someone watching us? Do we need to circle the wagons? Why am I talking in questions?” Todd had one eye closed, and was walking like one leg was a foot shorter than the other.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

  “My hip feels like it’s out of joint. And I think I poked myself in the eye during the night since my left eye won’t open. Whoever made the coffee, I’m in love with you.”

  “Damn, finally had the chance to make it more than a summer thing, and the prize goes to Mac.”

  “I’m pretty sure the prize is out of my wheel house. But, love you too, man.” Mac gave Todd thumbs up.

  “All the good ones are taken. Story of my life.” Todd sipped his coffee.

  Mac looked up through the thick pines, then all around us. “I’ve been in some strange places, but this heavy forest is eerily claustrophobic. I can’t decide if I should be worried someone could be sneaking up on us, or grateful no one could be watching us from a distance.”

  Todd tried to sit down, but his hip rebelled. “You adjust to it.”

  “The forest or the hip?” Mac asked.

  “I’ll never get use to pain. Not ever going to be my frienemy. And the sooner we get out of this maze
the happier it will be.”

  Mac poured more coffee in my mug. “Do you know where we’re at?”

  I looked around. “Hansel and Gretel’s forest?”

  “Crap. Why can’t anyone give me a straight answer?”

  “Don’t get all worked up.” I pretended to be deep in thought researching our exit plan. “The trees are leaning to the south. That’s caused by the intense north winds blowing heavy snow against them. The ravine over there flows downward to water, and the moss grows best on the north side of the trees. We could listen for cars to see how close we are to a road. Or we could use my compass.”

  “Smart ass.” Mac pulled his compass out of his jacket pocket. “I was looking for something more specific from the geniuses.”

  “Why didn’t you say so?”

  “I’m still waiting for an answer,” Mac said.

  “Good luck getting one out of those two. They get lost climbing a tree.” Frank said exiting his tent. “I feel great. Slept like the dead.”

  “I noticed.” Mac offered.

  “Sounds like the old cowboy made some noise,” Todd said.

  “I don’t snore.”

  “And I’m not gay.”

  “Did you have a revelation in the night?” Amanda asked reaching for coffee.

  “The only revelation I had is we are short one member.”

  “Isn’t Dad in your tent sleeping?” I asked.

  “He was gone when I stumbled out,” Todd said.

  “Before we all panic, let’s make a plan,” Mac said. “He’s probably out looking around and we don’t want to all start yelling and alert people we don’t need to.”

  “Everyone stand in a circle facing out,” Frank said. “We’ll each walk as straight as we can and call out softly. After about a quarter mile return to camp.”

  Mac looked straight at me. “No heroics. We don’t want to be looking for two people.”

  By the time I walked a quarter mile I was pretty sure he had pulled another one of his disappearing acts believing his wanderings weren’t an issue. I was both scared and pissed. I turned around and walked back to camp. I stepped out of the trees and there on a log sat my grinning father.