by Bobby Akart
Sometimes, Jake would load up his gear and hike upstream to the falls where the brook trout were more plentiful. He’d camp a couple of days and practice living off the land. One of the things he didn’t disclose to Ashby and her team was that he considered himself an accomplished survivalist. The nomenclature typically raised red flags with people as being someone with a screw loose or part of the tinfoil-hat crowd. Neither one of those generalizations applied to Jake.
To the contrary, Jake was one of those guys you could put on the television show Naked and Afraid and he would excel. With a good survival knife like his fixed-blade Morakniv, his constant companion, Jake could survive under any conditions. Hiking, camping, trapping small game, and fishing were all second nature to Jake.
He weighed his options of flies to use and settled on blue-winged olives and midges this morning. It was early June and the warmer days weren’t completely upon them as of yet. Jake had just made his first cast when a voice interrupted his privacy.
“Look at you,” shouted Ashby as she made her way down the trail with a thermos full of coffee. “I woke up just as you snuck out the back door. I need coffee to get my day started, or I resemble a grizzly all day long.”
“Good morning! This is my favorite day-off pastime. Fishing is good for your soul.”
Ashby watched him sidearm cast from a shallow part of the creek, just above a fork where another creek tied in. As the neon green line sailed over the rocks, the glistening nylon looked like a disconnected spiderweb in the breeze.
“What’s the fish of the day?” she asked as she found a rock to sit on.
“Lately, rainbow trout seem to be the most cooperative,” Jake replied. A moment passed, and he cast again.
“Say, aren’t you cold?” asked Ashby in a tone he hadn’t recalled hearing yesterday.
Jake glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled. She was wearing khaki cargo shorts, a loose-fitting linen blouse, and hiking boots with white socks protruding above the top. Her Ray-Ban sunglasses covered her eyes, but Jake sensed she was looking him over. He smiled with pride. While he wasn’t the chiseled specimen he once was, he certainly was in good shape for being in his late thirties.
“Mind over matter, missy,” he replied. “It’s cold, but I’m used to it.”
Jake felt a tap at the end of the line and he suddenly jerked the rod. “Gotcha!”
From experience, Jake had learned that these fish would nibble around a fly, and when he felt the tap, he had to set the hook. Now the battle was on.
He raised his rod and then it shot back downstream. He pulled again, and a generous-sized trout broke the plane of the stream and wiggled in the air before splashing back down again. Jake adjusted his stance and worked the fish. He held the rod high, causing the line to become more taut. The contest between man and fish continued until, finally, a nice nine-inch rainbow trout succumbed to the fierce battle. Jake pulled it closer so Ashby could see his catch, the gill of the trout pulsating in the morning sun.
He carefully unhooked the fly, then laid the fish against a rock until it gave out. Then he slipped it into a canvas fish bag next to his shirt. After adjusting his fly and checking his hook, he started back to work.
Ashby finished her coffee and poured out the last few drops. She wandered downstream to find a flat spot where she could wash out the thermos without disturbing Jake. She knelt by the water, rinsed out the container, and let the refreshing, cold water run through her fingers.
She lifted the thermos to take a drink when Jake yelled at her, “No!”
She was startled, the wet thermos slipping out of her hands and dropping to the ground. Jake set down his rod and came splashing through the stream to join her.
Ashby had a disappointed look on her face. “Jake, what’s the matter?”
He picked up the thermos for her and set it on a rock. Then he bent down next to her, placed his arm around her shoulder, and pointed downstream. “Do you see something unusual about the rocks along the bank, just below where the two streams come together?”
Ashby nodded her head, upset with her lack of awareness of her surroundings. “I see what you mean. They’re covered with mineral deposits. Is this water toxic?”
Jake pointed past the fork in the two streams. “Sentinel Creek, where I was fishing, is clean as a whistle. The other creek seems to have a high metal content.”
“I’d have to look closer,” added Ashby. “But it appears to be zinc, aluminum, or even sulfur. Jake, where does this creek lead?”
“In the general direction of where we’ll be going today—Norris.”
They stood together, and she patted him on the chest. “Are you ever going to stop saving me, Sir Jake?”
“As long as I’m around, I’ll save you if you need saving,” he replied shyly. He turned back toward his fishing gear. “I planned on cooking fish for our breakfast. I’ve only got one and those two have voracious appetites. Wanna help me catch some more?”
“Absolutely, but I have to warn you, this is my first time fishing and I’m not very patient.”
Jake grabbed her thermos and placed his arm behind her back to allow her to go first. “We’ll fish from the shore so you don’t get wet. You’ll enjoy this.”
A few minutes later, they were casting together. Ashby commented that this must look like one of those Hallmark Channel movie moments where the hunky guy showed the girl how to swing a golf club or a work a pool stick.
Jake didn’t respond, nor did he discourage her from enjoying the moment. As their arms moved together, her body occasionally brushing up against his, Jake smiled as he realized how much he’d missed the physical connection with a woman. It has been a long time.
Chapter 30
Jake’s Cabin
Yellowstone
Ashby and Jake made their way back to the cabin with their catch just as Dusty emerged onto the back porch looking for them. He was holding his MacBook over his head, waving it around like it was a metallic flag of victory.
“Doc! You gotta see this. We’re blowing up Twitter!”
Ashby turned to Jake and laughed. “Good, somebody needed to a long time ago.”
“Facebook and the rest of them too,” added Jake. “Social media is ruining this country.”
They arrived at the short set of steps that led to the deck.
Dusty continued with his amazing news. “Doc, our reporter friend has surfaced again. You know, the cute British girl. I knew I liked her from the beginning.”
“You don’t always think with your big head, Dusty,” said Grumpy Smurf Rita as she joined the group on the back deck. She pointed to the string of fish. “Hey, Jake. Looks like you’ve been busy.”
Jake lifted them up for Rita to get a better look. “We were. Ashby caught half of them.”
“No way,” said Rita. “She doesn’t have the patience to sit in a restaurant to wait for an order much less sit on a rock and reel them in herself.”
The group entered the house, where a fire immediately surrounded them with warmth. Jake stowed the gear and left them to their own devices while he changed clothes. When he returned, Dusty was still reading some of the tweets, which raised his level of excitement to magnitude ten-point-oh. Jake made a mental note to secretly use decaf in the next batch of coffee.
Dusty finished a bag of Cheetos, his road-trip-breakfast-on-the-go and continued his morning news briefing. “Look at this headline from the UK Express. Government hiding—”
Ashby interrupted. “Wait, Dusty. From the UK what?”
“The Express. They’re one of the best at exposing our government when the U.S. media won’t.”
Rita reached for the laptop. She grimaced and then took her sleeve to wipe off Dusty’s Cheeto remnants from the keyboard. “Let me see that. The headline reads Government hiding coming extinction-level event, says American scientist.”
“Give me a break,” said Ashby with a laugh. “Who would say that?”
Rita kept scrolling down the artic
le and then she handed the laptop to Ashby. “You did.”
“Hold up. No, I didn’t. Give me that.”
Ashby took a minute to read the entire article. Jake continued to listen in on the conversation while he cleaned and then pan-fried the trout with a side of garlic roasted red-skin potatoes. She handed the laptop back to Dusty.
“Find the original BBC report done by Ella Hewitt. These people took a few quotes and twisted it to make NASA look like they’ve condoned Project Hydro despite my warnings.”
Jake returned with plates full of food for Ashby and Rita and set them on the kitchen table. “Isn’t that sort of true? Ashby, didn’t you warn them against it?”
“Yeah, I did, but this report makes it look like I was vocally leading the charge.”
Dusty returned the laptop to Ashby, who scrolled through the text of Ella’s live BBC report from hours ago. “Okay, this is more accurate. Naturally, I would have preferred she kept my name out of it. And I suppose it would imply that I was the lone voice of reason against Project Hydro. But I certainly wasn’t alleging a government conspiracy or cover-up.”
Jake set a plate in front of Dusty and joined the group. “Ashby, in law enforcement, I’ve learned from interviewing witnesses to an accident that by the time the truth gets circulated from the eyewitness through a string of subsequent conversations, a fender bender turns into two totaled vehicles smashed to pieces. The media has an agenda, and they’ll twist the truth or lie by omission in order to advance their particular agenda.”
The conversation paused while everyone dug into their breakfasts. Compliments were passed around and praise was given to Ashby for going outside of her comfort zone with a newfound skill.
Dusty had set the laptop to the side with the BBC article open on the screen and a picture of Ella on the balcony at Grant Village. He had a mouthful of food when he pointed at the screen with his fork.
“You know,” he began as he tried to quickly finish his oversized bite of fish, “when you think about it, she may have done us a favor. Face it, Doc. Nobody at the YVO wants to listen to what we have to say. They’ve likely created a firewall between us and Homeland Security. Ella could be our secret weapon. Plus, she’s easy on the eyes, right, Jake?”
Jake’s expression must’ve said it all because Ashby immediately started laughing and gave Jake a slight nudge. “How about it, Jake? Is Ella easy on the eyes?”
“Um.” Jake deflected by forcing a whole potato in his mouth. He shrugged and remained silent, allowing his puffed cheeks full of food to provide an excuse for not responding.
“Shut up, Dusty,” scolded Rita. “Until now, you’ve been all about Layla, Layla, la-la Layla. Now you’re sweet on Ella, Ella, la-la Ella. You’re such a player. You’ve been going on and on about Layla ever since we left Hawaii, and now you’ve seen this girl for all of a hot minute and she’s the one? Good grief.”
The two of them went back and forth for several minutes, during which time Jake leaned over and whispered to Ashby, “Hey, is there something going on between these two? I mean, they’re always nippin’ back and forth.”
Ashby smiled and then cupped her mouth as she replied, “Not that I know of, but if the time comes, I can only imagine what they’ll do to each other. Probably like one of those Ultimate Fighter deals, except with sex.”
Jake laughed out loud, which prompted the two bickering grad students to stop.
“What?” they said in unison.
“Oh, nothing,” replied Ashby. “We were just talking about the plan for today. One of the first things on the agenda is finding that fissure and the lava Jake saw. Also, we have to assume that if we weren’t locked out of the YVO following my confrontation of yesterday, this BBC report has probably resulted in a black-and-white WANTED poster circulated throughout the park that reads shoot on sight.”
“What are we gonna do, Doc? We need to tap in to their real-time data.”
“I can circumvent them to an extent; plus we have our historical readings in the database. I want us to conduct our own ground deformation measurements with a focus on the Norris area. In the days before the eruption of Mount St. Helens, a team of geologists conducted their own, independent surface studies and discovered an extraordinary bulge on the north side of the mountain. This helped raise awareness of a possible eruption. They got lucky, as have we with Jake’s discovery.”
Dusty interrupted her. “Do you want to install our own GPS receivers, tiltmeters, and strainmeters?”
“I do,” replied Ashby. “Plus a few other things. It’s just a hunch, but I think Norris might be the key to what’s going on underground.”
Jake stood and gathered up the empty plates. “Let’s get rollin’, then.”
Chapter 31
Norris Area
Yellowstone
Jake and Ashby rode in the Expedition, leading Dusty and Rita, who followed behind in their van full of equipment. The twenty-mile drive toward the northern reaches of Yellowstone into the Norris Geyser Basin provided a contradiction in terms of scenery. As they approached Gibbon Meadows, the impact of the wildfire could be seen to the north while the south side of Grand Loop Road provided a gorgeous view of the pristine forest. They continued past the Gibbons River rapids and wound through a long S curve through the Norris Geyser Basin until they were surrounded by forest once again.
“Didn’t we go past where the fire was located?” asked Ashby as she turned in her seat and looked backwards toward the Pearl Geyser.
“We’re gonna pull in up here at Bijah Spring and take an NPS service road through a ravine, where we’ll have to park. This way, we’ll come up on the back side of the fire on top of a ridge to get a better look.”
Ashby retrieved her Midland X-Talker two-way radio and contacted Rita. When they were in the field, cell phone service was not always available to them, but the thirty-eight-mile range and fifteen-hour battery life of the X-Talker T71 was ideally suited for communicating between them.
After they turned off the main highway, Jake took them up the mountainous service road as far as he could before the van began to struggle with the terrain. He found a flat area to stop, and the group gathered around their temporary base camp.
While the scientists got their gear together, Jake pulled out a topographical map of the area. He retrieved his Garmin handheld GPS device. He usually left the basic eTrex model issued to him by Yellowstone in his truck. Instead, he carried the more advanced Oregon 750t, which also had a built-in eight-megapixel camera. The touchscreen interface was much easier for him to use, and he considered it to serve a dual purpose because of the camera. He set their coordinates and then went back to studying the map.
He’d done this several times since the fire, but this was the first time he’d returned to the area near Bunsen Peak where he’d observed the lava. Being on the ground helped him get his bearings and visualize what he’d seen that day.
He charted a course toward Bunsen Peak, an eighty-five-hundred-foot peak that rose prominently on the east flank of Kingman Pass just south of the Mammoth Hot Springs. Because of Bunsen Peak’s height, it provided him an excellent point of reference as they made their way into the forest for the roughly six-mile trek toward Grizzly Lake and the rock outcropping he’d come across that day.
With the scientific gear evenly distributed, Jake gathered up certain essentials that always accompanied him on day hikes. In addition to the Garmin Oregon and the map as a backup, he loaded first aid supplies, mylar blankets, several ways to make fire, including waterproof matches, his extra Eldris knife and flint, and candles. His pack always contained a small repair kit, a rolled-up tent, meal replacement bars, and a LifeStraw.
They spent the first couple of hours climbing up the ridge on a little-used trail that zigzagged up the mountain. The high elevation and its emaciated air took its toll on Dusty, and he had to stop to catch his breath several times. As they made their way up the mountain, Jake and Ashby chatted.
“I can still smel
l the remnants of the fire,” she said as Jake lifted a low-hanging branch out of her way.
“The fire raged about a mile to the west of us, but you can’t see it from here,” he said. “The ridgeline provided a natural barrier that kept it from climbing up the top. Below the ridgeline, the earth is scorched with the trees looking like charred stick figures coming out of a sea of ash.”
Ashby walked closer toward the pines, which created a canopy over the trail. “It’s weird that the smoky smell still lingers despite the rains. To be in the middle of a forest full of conifers and not breathe the heady scent of pine is kinda like standing on the beach and not smelling salt air. It’s confusing to my senses.”
They continued upward, pausing momentarily to watch a raccoon wander across the trail. “It appears the critters hung around despite the fire,” said Ashby.
“They have the ability to sense these things, which is one of the reasons the bison made their way into the Lower Geyser Basin as the fire raged. Look, up ahead. There’s a clearing in the trees that might give us a better view down to Norris Geyser Basin.”
Jake led the way until several boulders provided them a place to sit and look out across the landscape. Grand Loop road came into view as it carved its way through the Norris Area, just a twisting black string over a thousand feet below them.
“Let’s take a break here,” said Jake as he dropped his backpack and helped the others remove their gear. Ashby wandered toward the edge of the drop-off and looked at the vast beauty of Yellowstone Park. The rest joined her as they passed a canteen of cold water between them.
“Are those redwood trees, or at least what’s left of them?” asked Rita.
“Petrified redwoods, or remnants, anyway,” replied Jake. “This area used to have redwood forests just like coastal California. All over these mountains, you’ll find large pieces of petrified wood that have the weight of rocks, but still look like wood. Along these trails, most of the smaller pieces are gone, pilfered by hikers. If you venture down the sides, you can still find nice samples. Each piece looks like wood, and if you pick it up, your mind will attempt to warn you about splinters, but they’re rocks now.”