Caldera

by Heath Stallcup

  “I’ve never been one to turn down a gift,” Bill said as he got to his feet. “What’s the occasion?” He groaned slightly as he stood and brushed the dirt from his knees.

  “Honestly?” the man answered sheepishly. “My wife went to pick up our grandson, and she isn’t due home for another three hours. She doesn’t like fish and—”

  “Wait,” Bill interrupted. “You’re out here fishing, and your wife doesn’t even like fish?” He felt a smile creeping across his features.

  The other man lowered his face, a sly smile forming. “Guilty pleasure. What can I say?” He held the fish high again. “I’m a sucker for fishing. I absolutely love it. Everything about it. I love the solitude, the battle between man and fish, testing new lures, and reels. And yes, I love to experiment with recipes.”

  “So, you like to eat fish, but your wife doesn’t?”

  “Hates it,” he deadpanned. “Can’t even stand the smell of it when I cook it.” He chuckled and shook his head. “But God bless her, she’ll try new recipes that I test. She keeps hoping I’ll eventually find a new way to prepare it that she’ll be able to stomach.”

  “Really? And how long has this been going on?”

  The man thought for a moment and replied, “Going on thirty-one years now.”

  Bill laughed out loud and shook his head. “My friend, that is true love. Any woman who hates fish and is still willing to taste test your cooking just to see if she might have changed her mind has got to love you through and through.”

  The man winked at him and grinned. “Ain’t that the truth.” He held the fish up again, “Care to join me?”

  Bill glanced around the camp and pointed to his small gas stove. “I’m afraid that’s all I have to offer.”

  The man appeared offended. “We have the great outdoors. With all of this wood at our disposal? We’re cooking this massive beast over real wood with real smoke.” He smiled. “That is, if you can build a fire.”

  Bill laughed. “I think I can handle that.” He started to collect rocks to build a ring then paused. “By the way, I’m Bill. Bill Martin.” He offered his hand.

  “Oh, my…” The man slapped at his forehead. “Forgive me. I’m so used to everybody around here already knowing who I am. I’m so sorry…I’m Richard Henderson. Everyone calls me Rich.”

  “Nice to formally meet ya, Rich.”

  “Same here, Bill,” the older man said. “Now, if you’ll get started on that fire, I’ll fillet this rascal and show you how old fishermen cook a fish!”

  “Sounds like a heck of a plan to me.” Bill went back to collecting rocks to build the fire pit.

  In short order, a fire was going and Rich had the fish searing over the flames. What little Bill hadn’t brought with him, Rich had packed away in his gear. As the two men sat beside the fire, Rich admitted that one of his vices was meeting people on his fishing trips, swapping stories, and sharing his catch. He counted on campers bringing cooking supplies so he normally only brought spices and a few pats of real butter with him.

  Bill broke out the ice chest and the two men shared a cold beer while the fish cooked and they tried to ignore the growing noise from over the hilltop. Bill recounted how he had spent nearly three decades as a law enforcement officer and Rich explained how he had worked in telecommunications until he was forced into retirement when his company was bought out. He made enough money in the buyout that he and his wife had little to worry about, but he had a hard time adjusting to the much slower life of retirement.

  “So why move out here?” Bill asked.

  “Honestly? I was tired of the big city,” Rich replied. “Too much crime, too much noise, too much…well, just TOO MUCH.” He smiled over his beer.

  Bill nodded. “I can understand that.”

  “How about you? Where did you retire to?”

  “I cashed in my retirement, paid off what little was left on my mortgage, and I’m still in the same little three-bedroom house that I bought when my wife and I first got married,” he said quietly.

  Rich studied him a moment and realized it was the first time Bill had mentioned being married. He waited a moment for the man to say more, almost afraid to ask what might have happened to Mrs. Martin, when Bill continued in a much quieter voice, “I lost her seventeen years into our marriage.” He pulled a long draw on his beer, the pain obviously still deep.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Cancer,” was all Bill could say.

  Rich simply nodded and stared into the flame of the fire.

  “Never had any kids, though,” Bill continued. “So, I guess in some ways that makes it easier, but in a lot of ways it makes it a lot tougher.”

  Rich studied him a moment, unsure what to say or how to take his statement. Bill shook his head as he stared into the flames. “I know. I’m not making much sense.” He reached for a second longneck, unscrewed the top, and offered it to Rich who accepted it. He popped open another and took a pull. “In some ways it was easier because I didn’t have to raise any kids on my own. I didn’t have to deal with helping another person deal with their own grief. I didn’t have to try to explain how someone as tenderhearted as their mom had to…,” he trailed off then sighed heavily. “But on the other hand, it was a lot harder because I had to go it alone. And I don’t have no heirs to carry on the family name. There was nobody there for me to lean on.”

  “I know this sounds harsh, Bill, but, it sounds like this happened a while back…you could have married again, couldn’t you?” Rich asked.

  Bill gave him a sad smile. “I only give my heart out once, buddy. She was my everything,” he said softly. “She’s waiting for me on the other side, so…” He glanced at the other man and shook his head. “So, I guess I’m just waiting ’til I can join her.”

  Rich nodded. “You’re made of tougher stuff than I am, my friend.” He poked the fish with a fork and flipped it to the other side. The aroma rose in the air and made his mouth water with anticipation. He glanced at the other man. “Fish is almost ready.”

  “Good,” he said, glad for a subject change. “My stomach was beginning to think my throat had been cut.”

  Rich scraped one of the fillets onto a tin plate and handed it to Bill, then scraped the other off onto a plate for himself. “Dig in!” He forked off a piece and blew on it.

  “Oh, my God,” Bill moaned. “I can’t believe this was cooked in an open-air camp.”

  “I know, right?” Rich smiled at him.

  “No, seriously, this tastes better than a lot of five star restaurants I’ve eaten in.” Bill savored another bite.

  “It’s taken many years and many failed experiments to reach this level of perfection, amigo,” Rich stated proudly.

  “You did good.” He lifted his bottle of beer up and Rich clinked his against it. “Salud!”

  “Salud!” Rich repeated and took a swig. “This is definitely living. Good beer, good fish, warm fire, beautiful setting sun, and more stars than a man can count.”

  “Amen.”

  Chapter 4

  Bob had just finished converting the dinette table into a bed. If Lucky wanted to act this way, she could. He could just as easily sleep out here. The dining table turned into a queen-sized bed, and it was pretty damned comfortable. The kids each had a twin bed that was built in along the wall, and although they were bunk beds, he knew they’d be fine. They were still outside playing around the hot spring, so he had flipped on the exterior flood lights to make sure they could see well enough once they were ready to come in.

  Bob unfolded a blanket and spread it out in preparation for what promised to be a fitful night. He glanced hopefully down the length of the RV towards the shut master bedroom door, then settled on the edge of the mattress and began unlacing his hiking boot. This vacation wasn’t turning out anything at all like he had intended. His dream of bringing his family closer together was quickly going up in smoke, and for the life of him, he had no idea why. He only wanted to spend some quality time wi
th his family and they wanted no part of it. His wife and best friend would just as soon return to the city and get back to the rat race. His daughter barely grunted to him in monosyllables. Bob paused and considered his son, Buck. At least he seemed somewhat accepting of the idea of the trip, but Bob was sure that was only because he had bought the boy weapons.

  He glanced around the ornate RV and shook his head. He felt sure that having all the creature comforts of home would make the trip more palatable for the women, but all they’d done since they hit the road was complain and express their desires to return home. Bob sighed and began unlacing his other boot. What else could I do to make this trip enjoyable? He glanced out the window and saw Keri soaking in the spring while Buck stood off to the side taking a leak. He chuckled to himself when he realized that Keri had no idea what her brother was doing. She had headphones on and her head was bobbing to some sort of music. He sighed again and tossed a boot to the floor.

  “Maybe if I just turned us around and went home, everybody would be happy,” he muttered.

  He lifted his other foot and had just begun tugging the boot when he heard a low rumble like thunder in the distance and felt the vehicle shake slightly. He could hear items in the drawers and cabinets rattle as the entire vehicle vibrated slightly, but the distinct sound of his daughter screeching in the night pierced the air.

  Bob rolled from the makeshift bed and fell to the floor; reaching instinctively for his other boot, he quickly tugged it back on. As he pulled the laces tight, Lucky threw open the bedroom door, her eyes as wide as saucers. “What the hell was that?” she yelled. “Are there bears?”

  “That wasn’t a bear, honey.” Bob tried to sound calm as he quickly tied the other boot. “I think it was a slight earthquake. It must have scared Keri because she screamed.”

  “How do you know it wasn’t a bear, Bob?” Lucky screeched as she marched to the front of the RV.

  Bob’s eyes betrayed him and he couldn’t help but watch the sway of her breasts under the thin nightshirt. He quickly put the thought from his mind and got to his feet. Pushing his way past her, he exited the RV and sprinted across the campsite to the hot spring.

  He found Buck standing beside the hot spring trying to pull Keri from it, but she kept pushing away from him, wiping at her face and retching into the warm water. Bob immediately smelled a sulfur-like smell coming from the water and grabbed her by the shoulders, lifting her from the hot spring. She dropped to her knees beside the hot spring and continued to retch until she dry heaved, the rotten egg odor intensifying from the spring.

  “Buck, hand me that towel,” Bob said, his hand extended. Buck immediately did as he was told and Bob wrapped the towel around her shoulders, rubbing her back and wiping her down as his daughter continued to heave onto the dry ground.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Lucky asked in an accusatory tone.

  Bob looked to her with utter confusion. He had no idea what might have happened. “I have no idea, honey. Maybe the chicken wasn’t cooked all the way.”

  “She might have caught what Dad had on the way up here?” Buck offered. “Whatever that was, tore him up bad.”

  “We need to get her inside,” Lucky barked.

  Bob tried to coax her up, but she was too weak to stand. “Come on, sweetie,” he whispered, but the girl’s arms were shaking and she continued to dry heave. He looked up to Lucky again and shook his head. “Let’s give her a second.”

  Buck stepped around out of the shadow. “Jesus, Dad, she’s thrown up everything she’s ate since second grade. I think I see chunks from her ninth birthday cake in there,” he tried to joke. It obviously went over like a lead balloon.

  “Why don’t you go see if we have any Sprite or 7-Up or something that can calm her stomach a little, okay? Make yourself useful,” Bob said.

  “Don’t snap at him,” Lucky barked.

  “I’m not snapping, I’m just…” Bob ground his teeth and then looked at his son. “Please go find some Sprite for your sister, Buck.”

  “Yeah, okay, Dad.” Buck trotted off to the RV.

  Bob wrapped his arms around Keri again and tried to get her to sit up. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get you inside.”

  Keri sat up and shook her head. “Not yet,” she gasped. “I’m not done.” She was panting for air and spitting bile from her mouth. The more her mouth watered, the more she spit.

  “What happened, sweetie?” Bob asked softly. “Was it something you ate? Was it Daddy’s chicken made you sick?” He got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach he had given his daughter food poisoning, and he suddenly felt ill himself.

  She shook her head and continued spitting. “No.” She spat again. “I was feeling fine.”

  Bob was using his fingers to try to comb her hair out of her face. “Then what happened, baby?”

  She calmed herself a little and her breathing slowed. “I was just sitting there in the water…” she spit again and inhaled a big breath of air, “and then the ground sort of vibrated and I could feel…” She spit more bile and it ran a line down her chin. “I could feel it through my whole body. Like, through the water, ya know?”

  “Yeah, I know. I think there was an earthquake.” Bob rubbed at her back.

  She spit again, and wiped her chin off. “Then this horrible smell happened. At first, I thought maybe Buck shit in the water.”

  “Hey!” Lucky snapped. “Language.”

  Bob and Keri both sort of rolled their eyes at her, but Keri continued. “Anyway, I thought it was Buck, but then…” she spit another mouthful of saliva that had collected, “then the bubbling in the water went ape sh…er…it went nuts.” She glanced at her mom who had a brow hiked up at her. “I knew something was bad wrong, and I screamed. And then the water sort of exploded and I swallowed like a TON of it.”

  Bob sat down hard and smiled. “So you choked on the water?”

  “No.” Keri looked at him strangely. “I didn’t choke, Dad.”

  Bob’s smile faded.

  “It tasted horrible. Like worse than sh—” She looked up at her mom again. “It was really bad.”

  “Yeah, it’s smelling pretty bad. I think when the quake hit, it released some sulfur into the water and—”

  “No! Dad, you don’t understand.” Keri sat up straighter now. “That smell you smell right now? That smells good compared to the first smell.” She was pointing at the spring. “Hell, I’m tempted to use that water to rinse the taste out of my mouth.”

  “Young lady, what did I say?” Lucky warned, crossing her arms under her breasts.

  “Mom.” Keri spit again and glared at her. “You go through what I went through, and see if you don’t use a few choice words, okay?” She went to stand up, and her legs were so shaky that Bob had to help her.

  “It’s okay, I got ya,” he said softly.

  “I’m serious, Dad,” she told him. “It smelled like…something dead. Like, really, really dead.”

  “That bad, huh?” He patted her back.

  “No, I mean, like it REALLY smelled like road kill dead. Like something had been killed and then…” She sighed in frustration. “I can’t describe it to you, it was that bad. And it tasted worse.”

  “Okay, sweetie.” Bob rubbed her back as they made their way inside. “At least it’s over with now. You got it all out of you, so you should be okay.”

  He walked her inside and helped her to the bathroom. “You go ahead and take a shower. Remember how I told you how we need to do it?” She nodded to him. “Okay. Try to conserve the water and get cleaned up.” He lowered his eyes and patted her cheek. “First thing tomorrow, we’ll go ahead and head home,” he said softly.

  She gave him a weak smile and kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

  Bob gave her a surprised look. “Wow. Where’s this ‘new Keri’ coming from? I thought you hated it out here?”

  She shrugged. “I do. But I figured we could tough out anything for a week or two. And I know this was importan
t to you…,” she trailed off.

  Bob sighed and patted her shoulder. “Honey, I just wanted to bring us closer together.” He glanced toward the front of the RV where Lucky was making a pot of coffee. “I think I failed there.”

  “Don’t count yourself short, Dad.” She gave him a wink and then stepped into the shower.

  Bob went back to the bed he had just made and sat back down. Lucky was leaning against the counter and stared at him. “Earthquake?” she asked in a tone he wasn’t sure how to interpret.

  “Yeah. Small ones happen all the time out here,” he offered up. “Probably because Yellowstone sits on top of a super volcano and—”

  “It WHAT?!”

  Bob recoiled as she exploded. He hadn’t seen her this upset since the last time she was pregnant and her hormones got all messed up. “Yeah.” His volume reflected his small voice. “Didn’t you read any of the stuff I gave you about the park before we—”

  “Hell no I didn’t read it, Bob!” she barked. “Why should I read it, it’s a fucking PARK!”

  “Yeah, but it explains all about the thermal activity and why Old Faithful and the other geysers work the way they do and—”

  “A fucking volcano?” Her eyes wide with anger.

  “Yeah, a dormant one. Like a lot of mountains in the U.S. Except this one blew up about a gazillion years ago,” Bob countered. “Why are you getting so pissed?”

  “You brought us to a volcano park?”

  “Oh, for the love of…” Bob moaned. “Jesus, Lucky, why are you…you know what? It doesn’t matter, okay! We’re leaving first thing in the morning, all right? So untwist your panties.” He threw himself back onto the bed and put his arms behind his head, staring at her.

  “Why can’t we leave tonight?” Her eyes shot daggers at him.

  “Like we could,” he snorted. “With all the traffic from the yahoos down the hill that came for that stupid concert? We’d never make it out of here. Contrary to popular belief, Lucky, people have been coming to this park for over a century and actually sleeping outside. Some without tents, even,” he said mockingly. “I think you can handle one night in this. I know it would be tough, what with the air conditioning and the hot and cold running water and the indoor toilet and the microwave and all.” He didn’t try to hide his disgust. “One night out here won’t kill you.”