Rain of Fire

by Linda Jacobs

Though the old bravado was now firmly in place, she tried once more to reach him. “You don’t suppose this dream was your subconscious trying to tell you something?”

  He considered. “Maybe it’s a sign I’m not to run from the mountain.”

  Kyle felt as though the tumblers of a lock clicked into place.

  Earlier this evening he’d come as close to a commitment as she could ever expect from him. Take up where they’d once left off. No promises of love and undying devotion, of course. There had never been.

  Tears welled, and her throat ached. When she told Wyatt about her past terrors, he’d held her, taken on his sorrows as his own.

  “There’ll always be another mountain for you, Nick.” Kyle stared at him, dry-eyed.

  As much as she might wish things were different, it felt satisfying to have an answer, even if it was the one she had been living with for years.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  SEPTEMBER 29

  Kyle didn’t think Wyatt had gotten any more sleep than she. Dark circles marked the skin beneath his eyes as he poured some of Iniki Kuni’s Safari Blend for her.

  “That’s the last of it,” he grieved. The young girl’s desk was unattended this morning.

  The Resource Center coffee room bore signs of yesterday’s earthquake. Plywood covered the window, and the only unbroken coffeepot was in use.

  “Where’s Nick?” Wyatt asked.

  “Sleeping. When I left him, he looked terrible.”

  Wyatt paused with his mug halfway to his lips. “I guess you’ll be taking care of him a lot from now on.”

  “No one takes care of Nick Darden.”

  As she followed a limping Wyatt across the hall toward his office, someone hailed him from the reception area. Janet Bolido wore a tailored suit and pumps that looked out of place in the park.

  Her dark eyes were direct, her handshake just shy of a bone-crusher. “Dr. Stone, I’m glad you’re here. What I’ve got this morning includes you.”

  They went into Wyatt’s office. Janet walked behind the desk, took a seat in his chair and placed her palms on his blotter. “What do your signals tell you is going to happen next?”

  “It doesn’t work that way,” Wyatt protested. “We can’t predict…”

  “You did yesterday. Iniki Kuni leaked your email to Billings Live Eye, warning of more activity. They went with an exclusive … ten minutes later the big one struck.”

  “Coincidence,” Kyle argued. “Our warning was generic, not specific.”

  “Nevertheless, America Today just called me. They asked for whoever predicted yesterday’s quake to go on national television tomorrow morning.”

  “Good God.” Wyatt leaned forward. “As in Gene North, live from New York?”

  “The same,” said Janet, while Kyle tried to register that she was serious.

  “What would we tell them?” she asked. “That we know when the next one will be?”

  “We don’t,” said Wyatt, “any more than we knew when that one was going to go. If we were able to do that we wouldn’t have been in an avalanche chute and gotten our horses killed.”

  Janet’s expression softened. “I didn’t hear about that. Are you all right?”

  “Kyle and I are.” He pulled out a guest chair and sat, propping his hurt foot in an elevated position. “Dr. Darden from USGS took a blow on the head.”

  Though Janet did not ask, Kyle added, “The doctors think he’ll be all right.”

  “That’s good. Of course, he’ll go on the show with you two.”

  Kyle’s vision of Brock Hobart on Monty Muckleroy’s couch transformed into her, Wyatt, and Nick on the America Today sofa across from Gene North in his wing chair. Yet, Stanton’s derision at seeing Brock making predictions on the air held her back. Serious scientists published their findings in peer-reviewed journals, spoke at sanctioned conventions, or at best appeared on productions of National Geographic or Discovery. Television was the place for folks raising money for treasure hunting or searching for Noah’s Ark.

  “We won’t be going on TV,” Kyle said.

  Janet’s gaze shifted to Wyatt. “I think you will.” The implication that he worked for her was clear. “You folks keep telling me your warnings are not precise. Now all you have to do is tell everybody in America.”

  “Wonderland,” said Wyatt flatly. “You want us to calm peoples’ fears.” Kyle had the distinct impression he was about to tell the Superintendent to shove it.

  She put a light hand on his arm and turned to Janet. “When do we have to let them know?”

  “By noon.”

  “We’d like a chance to talk with Nick before we commit.”

  Janet’s smile conveyed victory. “I’ll wait for your call.”

  As soon as she left, Wyatt crossed his arms over his chest. “No way in hell.”

  “Refusing could cost your job.”

  “So what? She wants us to tell people everything’s all right. It’s not.” He pushed back his guest chair and took his rightful place behind the desk. “I’m going to take a look at the stations.”

  While he started his computer, Kyle sipped the coffee she’d allowed to get cold.

  “I’m in,” Wyatt said after a few minutes of navigating to the Institute website.

  “Brock Hobart is probably in, too,” she replied. “I wish we could do something to keep him out.”

  Wyatt looked thoughtful. “The site is already set up so the public can access only certain areas. Why not set up a public access delay on the Nez Perce records?”

  “I’m not sure I like that idea.” Yet, after hearing Brock Hobart make predictions using their data, she felt the need to do something to slow him down.

  Wyatt was already tapping keys. In a few minutes, he had remotely set up the Nez Perce Network so the real time data was secure. It could only be accessed by someone onsite in Salt Lake, by Kyle from anywhere so she could use a replacement laptop for the one lost in the canyon, or from Wyatt’s network connection at Yellowstone. All others had to wait forty-eight hours to see the data.

  Kyle moved to stand behind Wyatt. “Let’s take another look at the focus of yesterday’s quake, now that the stations all over the world have measured it. I’m guessing it will give us another point on the Saddle Valley fault plane.”

  Wyatt asked the computer to plot the point within the earth where the motion had originated. “Guess again. Three miles beneath the cinder cone at Nez Perce.”

  “Good Lord.”

  He frowned. “Could that mean the magma has found a conduit and is massing beneath the old eruption site?”

  “Bingo,” said Nick from the doorway.

  He took only a moment with the records. “These small tremors below magnitude 1.0 aren’t aftershocks. We’re looking at continued harmonic tremors associated with moving magma.” Though he still looked pale, what they were seeing seemed to invigorate him. “This is fantastic. We could see a crater form at Nez Perce.”

  “You mean an eruption?” Wyatt asked.

  “Think of it as the volcano clearing its throat. The heat builds until the ground water flashes to steam, and BAM!” Nick brought his fist up beneath the palm of his other hand and knocked the upper one aside.

  Sweat broke out down Kyle’s back. “When?”

  He thought. “If we have more quakes beneath the peak and can track their focus, we might establish a rate of rise for the magma. Otherwise, with this constant background chatter, we wouldn’t have any warning.”

  “No warning?” Despite her perspiration, Kyle felt cold inside. “Wouldn’t the background events get stronger as magma nears the surface?”

  “That might be a clue,” Nick said, “but frankly, with as many steamers as we saw near the summit, the crater explosion could happen any time.”

  “After that there would be nothing plugging the conduit to stop a larger eruption.” Kyle looked at her watch. There was plenty of time before they’d agreed to get back with the Superintendent, but she didn’t need
any more.

  “Nick, Janet Bolido was just here to say we’ve been asked to appear on America Today. I say we take them up on their offer.”

  He shook his head. “Those interviews can’t be controlled. There’s no telling how things can get twisted. You go on there thinking you’ll say one thing …”

  Wyatt cut in. “Janet expects us to say nothing’s going to happen.”

  Kyle waved an impatient hand. “We don’t know what’s going to happen, but people need to know what is possible. Even if we can’t be precise.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you later,” said Nick.

  Wyatt gave him a hard look. “Since you’ve dealt with the press before, we’ll keep quiet and let you do the talking.”

  Nick went out into the hall and disappeared into the men’s room.

  Wyatt called Janet.

  In fifteen minutes, with several callbacks, it was set. New York considered and rejected that Billings Live Eye do the interview in the field. Instead, they requested the team of scientists do a live feed from their Salt Lake affiliate studio.

  “Tomorrow morning,” Wyatt reported. “They’ll pay mileage, meals, a hotel, all the trimmings. Even air if we want to fly down from Bozeman.”

  Kyle looked out the office window. Morning light glared on a few inches of snow, but the roads were clear and shiny wet. Wyatt brought up an Internet weather service and confirmed the region was clear of winter storm activity.

  Nick came back into the office.

  She turned to him. “Let’s drive down.”

  He did not reply.

  She checked her watch. “If we grab our stuff, we can be on the road before noon. We’ll stop for fast food and be at my place in time to catch some sleep.” After the helpless feelings of yesterday, both during the quake and after, it felt good to be back in control.

  “They want us at the studio by 4 AM.” Wyatt started shutting down the computer.

  Nick leaned against the wall, apparently deep in thought.

  While Wyatt’s machine powered off, he pushed past Nick and went to fetch his uniform jacket from behind the door. He turned his wide-brimmed hat and looked at it. “Should I wear the full getup for TV?”

  “Of course,” Kyle said. “I’ll need something a bit more formal from my place.” She jabbed an elbow into Nick’s side. “Earth to Darden.”

  He turned with a look as solitary as when he’d talked of dying alone. There was something else as well, a determined set. “I’m not going with you.”

  “Not going?” Kyle echoed. “This is your fifteen minutes of fame, too.”

  Wyatt put down his hat. “Look, buddy, we may not always see eye to eye, but we need you there, too.” He touched his bruised cheek where Nick had hit him. “You owe me.”

  Nick faced him. “If you’re worried about credibility, tell them I’m in agreement that something is going to happen at Nez Perce Peak. I’m going to call USGS and get more equipment, charter a helicopter. There’s no way Colin can say no, hell, he’s in Asia. I’ll get forgiveness rather than permission after we, that is … you’ve, been on national television.”

  Kyle grabbed his arm.

  Wyatt said, “Come on, we need USGS to make this cluster thing complete.”

  Gently, Nick loosened her grip. “Sorry. By this time tomorrow, I plan to be back on the mountain.”

  Half an hour after he refused to go to Salt Lake, Kyle stood by the driver’s door of the Institute van while Nick saw them off. On the lawns of Mammoth, last night’s snow was melting.

  “I wish I could change your mind on this,” Kyle said.

  Wyatt stood at a little distance on the Resource Center porch, not far enough from her and Nick for a stranger to notice. A muscle twitched in his clean-shaven jaw.

  “I’ve got to go back,” Nick insisted. The bloodstained bandage still circling his head had the effect of making him look very young.

  “Nick, no. You were in the clinic only yesterday.”

  Wyatt stepped into the yard and walked farther away.

  Nick’s eyes were clear green, the same as she remembered smiling at her the evening he’d urged her to his tent in the woods.

  “Wait for us to come back from doing the show,” she insisted. “Monitor this thing from a distance … Think of the dream you had last night.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t let a nightmare from the past keep me from living.”

  Kyle looked at him with dawning awareness. Wasn’t that exactly what she had been doing all these years? Waiting for Nick to come back and tell her it had all been a mistake? Examining perfectly good men and comparing them to a shining impossible image of incarnate summer? Behind Nick’s shoulder, Wyatt walked alone beneath yellowing cottonwoods. Wind rattled the branches and blew clots of snow off the browned grass.

  “You need to start living too, Kyle,” Nick urged softly.

  “What?” she asked, but she saw him take in that she was watching Wyatt.

  “You need somebody, in a way I never have. I don’t pretend to like the cowboy, but he’s a decent sort. That torch he’s carrying is damn near blinding.”

  Kyle hugged herself against the chill. “He’s got a woman.”

  Nick shrugged. “Back home I’ve got someone, this year’s saint who believes she can weather the time I spend in the field.” He smoothed her hair behind her ear. “For you, I could forget she exists.”

  She gestured toward Wyatt. “Then why push me toward him? Why can’t we …” she broke off. This had all been settled last night, or thirty years ago.

  “If there were just one woman for me, Kyle, it would be you.” Nick rubbed his temples beneath the gauze. “But Wyatt told it true. I light where the volcano blows.”

  “And now it’s in Yellowstone.” Her words were like chips of stone. “If not, we’d never have seen each other again.”

  She heard the crunch of Wyatt’s boots behind her before he spoke. “We need to get on the road.”

  She looked at Nick, and her anger drained away. “Take care on the mountain,” she whispered.

  Wyatt went around to the passenger door of the van and opened it.

  Nick looked at him over the roof and glanced at Kyle. “If the press is as bloodthirsty as I’ve seen them, you’re going to need each other.”

  Before she or Wyatt could reply, Nick walked away.

  On the way through the park to the west entrance, Kyle felt as though each mile took her farther from the past. If she hadn’t been driving, she would have closed her eyes against the memory of twenty-year-old Nick in a Wyoming summer meadow; blue cotton shirt tied around his bronzed waist, khaki shorts above muscled calves, green eyes squinting in the high-altitude sun.

  How many others had he offered the same line? Sincerity personified, “If there were only one woman …”

  Yet, she believed him. In his own mind, Nick hadn’t thrown her away lightly, then or now. His struggle to choose between her and the mysterious world of live volcanoes had wounded him, and at some level, Kyle believed she was the one who came closest to competing with his siren’s song.

  She glanced over at Wyatt. So dear and familiar, yet she was aware of him in a way that disturbed as well as enervated. Stanton had told her how he and Leila had gotten together. No fireworks at first sight, just a simple progression from friendship to a kiss that had surprised them as much as it brought relief.

  As they left the park and the van passed over the edge of the last caldera, the tightness in Kyle began to ease. Being in the park, especially in the backcountry was at once a breathtakingly beautiful and terrifying experience. She hadn’t realized how good it would feel to be out of the line of fire.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  SEPTEMBER 29

  Kyle wasn’t sure which was worse, seeing Stanton lying helpless, or watching Wyatt’s reaction. The nursing home … they’d stopped at University Hospital and found out he’d been moved yesterday … smelled of urine and faint rancid cooking odors. Outside the window
, dusk was falling. On the sill, a single tired floral arrangement reposed amid fallen petals and stamens.

  “You should have seen his room right after it happened,” Kyle murmured. “Flowers, cards …”

  Stanton slept with his mouth open, one side more slack than the other. “I’ve brought Wyatt,” Kyle spoke up.

  Stanton opened his eyes. Their bright blue seemed dulled, but he put out his hand. “Yes!”

  Taking the emaciated claw, Wyatt engaged in the kind of lie she was prepared to offer. “You do your physical therapy and you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

  “Yes,” Stanton agreed.

  Kyle glanced at the dark and silent TV; thankful she wasn’t the one lying here without even a game show to break the monotony. “You’re looking better,” she lied as well. “I don’t know if you’ve heard about the activity we’ve been having up at Yellowstone.”

  “Yes,” said Stanton.

  She wondered how he could have known. “Leila must have told you, maybe Hollis?” Her smile felt forced. “Well, guess what? Tomorrow morning Wyatt and I are going to be on America Today.”

  Before Stanton opened his mouth, horror fingered her spine. She saw it hit Wyatt as well when yet another repetition of, “Yes,” was not a rational answer.

  She gave a brilliant smile and turned away before either man could catch the sheen of tears in her eyes. Behind her, Wyatt muttered, “Christ.”

  Kyle stared out the window through a blur. She heard Wyatt recover and render an upbeat story of the New Moon earthquake, along with the Nez Perce Peak landslide. He made no mention of the horses’ fate or Nick’s head injury.

  At intervals, Stanton punctuated the delivery with the single word he was able to speak. Until he couldn’t help her, she had not realized how much she’d been counting on his advice.

  As Wyatt began to run out of steam, Kyle blinked and the autumn leaves came into focus. She turned from the window. “Stanton, do you remember all those times we talked about predicting earthquakes?”

  He nodded. This time she thought he looked at her through eyes of understanding.

  “Wyatt and I are in a bind about the TV show. Should we cry Chicken Little like the global warming crowd?” She put out her left hand. “Or follow our gut instinct and lay things out with logic?” Her right hand lifted.