by Byron Tucker
The conversation that he had with his brother last night didn't help his mental state either, recalling how Ryan had blown up at him when he dared to mention that they were planning to visit Yellowstone.
“You're taking your entire family on a suicide mission.” Those were the exact words Ryan had used, and it still stung, although it was now the next day. His crazy brother had this idea the big 7.9-scale earthquake that jolted the area in the past week was somehow the precursor to a super-volcanic eruption, one so great that it'd smother half of North America, and in addition, he had emphasized that it was “highly imminent.” Well, “imminent” on geological timescales could mean a thousand years, a concept that he wished his otherwise highly intelligent brother would at least consider.
Besides, Yellowstone National Park was open for business as usual, with things looking pretty calm at the moment. He just didn't believe that the government would actively try and cover up something that'd destroy half the country and put the global climate at risk – it just didn't make sense.
Jimmy came out of the back and sat down in the front passenger seat, wearing an excited grin. His gaze met Sam's face, and he must have read his expression, with his smile fading as he said, “Something eating you, Dad?”
He let out a sigh. “It's just something Uncle Ryan said to me.”
“What did he say?”
“I called him last night and told him that we were going to Yellowstone. He proceeded to flip out and said I was leading my family on a suicide mission. It just bothers me a little, is all.”
Jimmy leaned his head forward, allowing his longish black hair to dangle in front of his face before flipping it back with his hand. “Well, maybe he knows something's up over there. Maybe he thinks it's about to blow up.”
“He's been saying that for the past ten goddammed years!” Sam looked at his son's surprised expression and quickly added, “I'm sorry, it's just getting to be a bit much. As much I love my big brother, he's been on this doom bandwagon ever since you were a little kid, and it's become like a religion to him. It gets worse and worse every year.”
Jimmy fell silent for a few moments and then he said, “Mom keeps telling me he's a bit of a wacko, living like a hermit up in the north woods and hunkering down as if the end of the world is coming. Why does he live like that?”
Sam turned in his seat so he could look at his son directly in the eyes, letting out a small sigh as he did so. “Well, Ryan's always been a bit different. He has a very high IQ, and that leads him to think a bit differently about the world than folks like you and I. That's why I had such confidence issues growing up with him. Not only was he three years older and a good bit larger than me, he outsmarted me in just about everything. So we were never that close as brothers. He had this idea he needed to 'protect' his little brother, so he'd play surrogate parent, which I really didn't care for.”
“I hope I'm not like that with Eliza.”
Sam smiled. “No, you're not. I think you're a very good brother to her.”
“So, what happened when you guys grew up? Uncle Ryan started that company and got rich from it, right?”
Sam paused for a few seconds before replying. “Yes, which turned out to be quite lucrative, seeing how the U.S. military was its one and only customer.” Sam paused and took in a deep breath. He was about to drop a real bombshell to his son. “Jimmy, what I'm about to tell you, you must never mention to Uncle Ryan, okay? This is something he's quite sensitive about, and he'd have a fit if he found out you've been told.”
Jimmy's dark eyes widened. “Knew about what?”
“That Ryan's business partner was George Barnes.”
Jimmy's mouth slowly formed into a large “O” of surprise. “You mean the blow-hard who's in charge of Congress?”
Sam couldn't resist laughing. This is what I get for not making politics a family priority. “He's the Speaker of the House, which means he leads one part of Congress, the House of Representatives. And yes, I agree with you fully that he's a 'blow-hard.' God forbid he ever become President.”
“So why did they start a business together, then? Were they friends or something?”
“You could say that. That was years ago, before you were born. They had a big falling-out due to their political differences. From what I gather, Uncle Ryan had some sort of epiphany concerning George Barnes and his political ambitions, which led to a period of self-doubt and soul-searching, which I feel he's never really recovered from. It's like he discovered he was working for the dark side and no longer wanted any part of it, if you catch what I mean.”
“So Uncle Ryan has nothing to do with the man now, then?”
Sam shook his head. “They haven't spoken in years, as far as I know. Ryan doesn't even like his name mentioned in his presence. So, when we go visit him, please keep this in mind, okay?”
Jimmy smiled and said, “Are we still going to go visit him on this trip, though?”
“Yes, after we take a comprehensive tour of Yellowstone first. I'm not going to let my big brother scare me into not taking the family to see one of America's top wonders.
Jimmy made a quick motion of putting on his seatbelt. “Cool stuff. I can't wait to see it, especially in this awesome motorhome. Let's get going, I wanna see how this baby rides.”
Sam raised his hand in a mock salute. “Yes, sir!”
He put the key in the ignition and experienced a surge of relief when the engine shuddered into life, with no ominous warnings showing up on the dashboard. Pausing to put on his seatbelt, he released the parking brake and cautiously shifted into drive. “Wish me luck, my son. I don't exactly have experience in driving these things.”
“Well, if Grandpa could drive this, then I know you can.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Sam said with a hint of sarcasm.
* * *
“Okay, let's review the itinerary one more time,” Irene said, pointing to the calendar book on the table in front of her.
Sitting next to her, Sam leaned over to see the notes she had written down in the respective date blocks. “One night in Omaha, two nights near Mt Rushmore, and then we leave early, straight to Yellowstone,” he replied, reading from each square.
Irene nodded. “Three nights there, and two more near the Tetons, and then two free days in Montana.” She frowned and added, “And three more days with Ryan before returning home.”
Sam let out a sigh, hoping against hope that she wouldn't pick a fight about his brother. He had a long day of driving ahead, and he needed his sleep. “You know I'm wanting to do it so Jimmy can check out Michigan Tech, to see if that's a possibility for him.”
Irene shook her head. “You know the reason for my objection, Sam. Ryan is a gun nut, and I'm not going to allow my child to be exposed to that.”
“But we'll be in the motorhome while we're up there. We don't even have to stay on his property. We'll find a decent campground someplace nearby, like on a lake, and Ryan can just come out to visit us.”
Relief appeared on her face. “So you'd really do that, stay someplace other than his property? That'd make me feel a thousand times better, knowing we'll be nowhere near that arsenal he has.”
Sam couldn't help but laugh. “I doubt you could call it an arsenal. But I do agree with you a hundred percent. There's no reason for Jimmy to have any exposure to Ryan's guns, and I see no need for us to camp on his land, when there's plenty of scenic spots to camp around there, plus we'll have power and dump service at a proper campground.”
Irene reached out with her arms for a hug. “Thank you so much. It's all I ask, really, for us not to be staying where he lives.”
Glad to have this thorn removed, Sam stood up, tugging her to a standing position. “Come on, let's get some sleep. I want to get a bright and early start tomorrow.”
Irene smiled, her eyes lighting up. “I agree. There's nothing left to do, now that we've double-checked everything.”
Sam leaned in closer to his wife, inhaling
her intoxicating scent, which was always stronger late at night. “Well, perhaps there is one little thing left to do.”
She looked into his eyes, tilting her head to the side. “And what might that be?
He answered by giving her a passionate kiss, their bodies intertwined as one as they stumbled toward their bedroom.
* * *
Sam stepped outside, amazed at the muggy warmth despite the early hour. He ambled over to the gleaming motorhome parked in the street, admiring the swirl design imprinted on the side, shades of taupe, brown and dark blue.
It was a damn shame, really, for his parents to have spent over a hundred and fifty grand just to take two decent trips in it. But then again, nobody saw the heart attack coming, either. It had hit Sam's father like a bolt out of the blue three years previously, and he'd passed away even before they could rush him to the hospital. The motorhome had sat idle since, merely turned on every couple of months to keep the battery alive and the gaskets from drying out. The folks at the dealer insisted on changing the battery out anyhow, but considering there was nothing else they could find that even hinted at trouble, Sam had no reason to complain.
Jimmy came bounding out of the house barefoot, wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts. “So, you ready to hit the road? It's gonna be such a blast, going all the way to Yellowstone in the most awesome motorhome ever. All my friends are jealous.”
Sam turned to look at his lanky son and smiled. “Well, be sure and write your Grammy a sincere thank you note for allowing us to use this.”
He giggled. “Well, it's not like she was using it.”
“True.” He glanced at the house. “So, how's your mom and sister doing? Are they getting close to being ready?”
“Eliza's getting dressed now. I've already showered, I just gotta slip on my Nikes and I'm good to go.”
Sam pointed to Jimmy's bare shoulders. “You're going to wear just that, then?”
He shrugged. “It's supposed to be a hundred degrees in Omaha today, didn't you hear? I wanna keep cool.”
“Whew, that's going to be a hot one. Well, just remember to have something set out for dinner tonight, since we'll be going to one of those good steakhouses they have out there.”
Jimmy patted his tummy. “Yum, I love a good steak. And we're going to stay at a motel the first night, right?”
“Yes, just to make things go a bit smoother until we've got some distance under the wheels. You and Eliza should enjoy it – they have an indoor pool and a hot tub.”
He smiled at him. “Oh, that'd be awesome.”
Sam maneuvered his son toward the house. “Come on, let's see about getting Mom and Eliza into the motorhome, so we can get rolling. We're wasting daylight.”
Jimmy's Journal Entry - July 27th, 2019
This is the first entry of the trip journal my mom told me I should do, to help me remember the trip, like when I'm really old and can't remember stuff anymore. I told her I'll be able to remember things just fine, as Grammy sure can remember stuff that happened, like way back in the 1940's. But Mom says do a journal anyway, so here I am with my tablet, writing in my journal about keeping a journal. Ha ha, very funny.
Let's see what I should write about. Oh yeah, the totally rad motorhome Grammy's letting us use for the trip. Lemme tell you, this baby is awesome! It's thirty-six feet long and has slide-outs on both sides, so it's really huge when it's all set up for camping. My parents have their own bedroom in the back, and me and Eliza will sleep in the foldout couch in the living room section. This motorhome has a full kitchen, which my mom really likes, and a 42-inch TV for us to watch. Sure, it'll be a bit cramped with the four of us in here, but we'll be outside all the time when we're not sleeping or driving, so that'll be okay.
As for this family vacation we're doing, I think it's great, as we'll be gone for two whole weeks, which is the longest vacation, in like, forever. Dad's one of these workaholic types and is always working, even weekends and stuff, but his boss said that he was getting burnout and ordered him to take two weeks off, so here we are, heading west through Iowa toward Omaha, where we'll be spending our first night.
Dad's not willing to drive over 65 though, which is slow as hell. This baby will cruise at 75, easy, but Dad thinks 65 is plenty fast for a motorhome. That's okay, as he thinks we'll still get to the motel around four, which will be good, as me and Eliza can go swimming for a while and then we'll go out and have a yummy steak dinner after that. Tomorrow, we're going all the way out to Mt Rushmore in western South Dakota, where we'll be camping for two nights before going the rest of the way to Yellowstone on Tuesday. Let's hope it's cooler out there, as it's been as hot as the blazes at home. Mom thinks it's making Eliza's asthma worse, the stale, hot air hanging around all summer, and she's probably right. I just hope her breathing gets better once we get out west, so we can do hiking and stuff. We'll see, I guess.
Let's see, what else should I write about? Oh yeah, Uncle Ryan. That's who we're going to see on our way back from Yellowstone. He's the one that's been telling my poor Dad that he's leading us into a deathtrap. Hell, if that thing was about to blow like he says, wouldn't it be on the news by now? They'd certainly not have the park open for smucks like us just so we could get blown away in a giant eruption.
But like Mom keeps telling me, he's got a few loose parts in his brain. He's a great guy, though. We've been e-mailing each other for the past week, as he wants me to keep him informed about how we're doing on our trip. It does seem like he's really worried for us, though, so you gotta wonder, maybe he knows something we don't. But like Dad says, if there's any danger at all of Yellowstone going off, they'll be closing the park immediately to all tourists. In that case, we'll just have to go visit Colorado or something, or maybe stay longer at Uncle Ryan's place. So I'm sure we'll be okay regardless of what happens. That's the great thing about Dad, that you can always count on him to make the right decisions about stuff that's really important.
I guess this is all I have to write about for now, since we've haven't seen anything yet except for cornfields that just go on for miles and miles. How boring. I'll do another entry when I have something to actually write about.
Chapter 4
The growing anxiety within Ryan's psyche the past couple of days moved onto center stage this morning, and it wasn't entirely due to his brother taking his family on the greatest fool's errand of all time. It represented more of a feeling of general unease, as if he was neglecting things he should be doing.
But exactly what he could be doing was out of his mind's reach at the moment. He'd given up on talking his brother out of going to Yellowstone – the only thing he could do about that was to sweat out the next few days until they came back east again. Truth be told, things were awfully quiet out there at the moment, leading to a general sense of doubt of how “imminent” the eruption was. Some of his sources were now saying that it could be another year, or even longer. Not surprisingly, the media had glossed over the large earthquake that rocked the area ten days before. The damage had been mostly repaired, all tourist facilities were open, and there was no danger whatsoever. Yeah, right.
Ryan let Shelly out the door and watched her bound through the dewy grass. She was a gold lab, his companion of twelve years and counting. Although she was a healthy dog, there was no denying the accumulation of years. She didn't run as fast as she used to, nor did she chase after anything that moved. Maybe that's what's bothering me, it's past due to take her to the vet. But if there was nothing wrong with Shelly, what was the point? If he had a need to take her to the vet, then he would put her in the truck and drive the twenty minutes it would take to get there.
He shook his head as he stepped out into the patch of yard in front of his humble-looking abode. The slanting rays of the morning sun shone through a crystal-clear blue sky, promising yet another Chamber of Commerce day. If anything, it had been a bit dry lately, but this summer so far was really one of the best in years. It had started with an early, warm s
pring, and with the lack of any late frosts, he'd been able to get his garden off to its earliest start ever. Although it was not yet August, he was already harvesting plump tomatoes off his plants in his garden, some the sweetest he'd ever grown.
Then it hit him. The best summer in the Keweenaw in years, and Ryan was frittering it away in front of the dammed computer, pouncing on every twitch of data coming across the network. He needed to be outdoors, enjoying the summertime, and perhaps doing something useful, like picking berries to make jam.
“That's what I'll do,” Ryan said to himself, walking over to one of his smaller sheds. He pulled open the door. “We'll take the side-by-side out and pick us some berries. How does that sound, Shelly?” The dog trotted up to him, friendly and affectionate as always. Shelly was easy, always enjoying whatever he did with her, unlike a few humans he had the privilege of knowing in his lifetime.
Less than an hour later, with a road lunch packed for himself and some treats for Shelly, Ryan fired up the Deere Gator side-by-side and hopped on the old logging trail bisecting his wooded property, searching for any deadfall he needed to tag to be cut up later for firewood.
It was getting to be that time of the year again, when he needed to be building up his wood supplies to feed those rapacious wood burners, especially the one in the shop. That beast burned wood the way the Cookie Monster devoured cookies. He made a couple quick stops to spray-paint a couple of unhealthy trees that he would cut in the fall, but other than those, there was little dead wood to be found. That wasn't a concern, considering had a lot of wood leftover from the previous mild winter that he could use for the coming one.