Out of Crisis

by Richard Caldwell

  Roland shared a slightly worried look with Larry but said nothing. No use in getting anyone stirred up if there wasn’t a verified reason to do so. Jeremy and Judy exchanged glances, too, as if they sensed there was more to the situation than Roland and Larry were willing to admit.

  Jeremy cleared his throat. “What about you guys? I noticed the University of Utah markings on your van. Are you here on official business?”

  Roland nodded.

  “What do you do, mister?” asked Ellis.

  “We’re from the Seismology Department,” Roland replied.

  “Oh?” Judy asked. “Well, you should have plenty of seismology to evaluate. We’ve felt at least ten pretty violent tremors since we arrived yesterday.”

  The twins grinned.

  Ellis piped up: “Yeah, right after we got here, there was a big one.”

  Fiona jumped in: “And Mom busted her—”

  A don’t-even-think-about-saying-it glare from Judy stopped Fiona midsentence. Then Judy slowly shook her head and smiled apologetically. The twins giggled, and the three men hee-hawed as the group headed toward the Old Faithful Inn. They stopped at the front entrance.

  “You folks enjoy the rest of your time up here,” Larry said.

  As the family headed toward the stone seats encircling Old Faithful, Roland called after the twins, “Young ladies, you will remember this vacation for the rest of your lives.”

  At the time, no one could have known how horribly accurate that statement would prove to be.

  “They seemed like a nice family,” Larry mused, “but Mom has her hands full with those two.”

  “No doubt,” Roland agreed. “But I think she can handle it just fine.” After their preemptive trip to the men’s room, Larry and Roland joined the cafeteria food line. The queue of tourists waiting to place their orders reminded Roland that this was the height of the tourist season.

  After they placed their orders and sat down, a teeth-jarring tremor violently shook the chairs beneath them. Screams and expletives in an assortment of languages exploded around them as patrons standing in line or walking to their seats stumbled and grabbed for railings or table edges. More than a few people fell to their knees.

  It was only then that Roland noticed the absence of china and glassware. The Old Faithful Lodge Cafeteria was the only eating establishment in the park that used what Roland considered to be real dishes. They usually used Melmac and hard plastic “glasses,” but now they were using paper plates and cups. There were no breakable items anywhere in the room. He also noticed the lack of hanging pictures or other decorations that might fall when the walls started bouncing. An absence of knickknacks was further proof that stronger-than-usual quakes had been going on for several days.

  When a waiter finally appeared with their burgers and fries, the feverish buzz of anxious patrons had faded away like the tremor.

  Larry lathered his fries in ketchup. “Let’s eat and get out of here. This time of year, the sun doesn’t go down until around twenty-one hundred hours. That should give us plenty of time to get to the caldera site and set up our equipment. I want to see if we can find out what’s causing these tremors. If it’s what we think it is, maybe we can convince someone somewhere to evacuate this area before it ends up being the top story on ABC News.”

  Roland removed the top bun and centered the lopsided tomatoes over his burger, then nudged it again, and once more for good measure. “Roger that, mein Kapitän. My anal sphincter is starting to tighten up a little bit. That’s my body’s way of telling me I may be at the wrong place at the wrong time. And it ain’t failed me yet.”

  8

  The Farm

  Two years before the day of

  Typically, David was unflappable, and he was seldom caught totally off guard. But Melissa’s comment and her matter-of-fact way of saying it blindsided him: We didn’t bring you here to ask you to join Envision-2100. We brought you here to ask you to run for president of the United States.

  David wasn’t merely surprised; he was stunned. Like someone had poked him in the chest with a cattle prod. He looked around the table at each of the Envision-2100 members. Each person stared back at him. For several heartbeats, no one moved or made a sound. Then David placed both of his trembling hands flat on the table and broke the crypt-like silence. “Jeez, folks, I . . . I don’t know what to say. Talk about coming out of the blue; you caught me completely flat-footed. Did I mention I don’t know what to say?”

  Smiles crept around the table.

  Asserting his president-of-the-board status, Judson was the first to speak: “Take a deep breath and herd your thoughts for a second, David, while I elaborate just a bit. We’ve shared the genesis of Envision-2100, how we came to be, and more or less who we are. And Milt has given you a thirty-thousand-foot overview of the process we used to solidify our social and political views, or at least our core beliefs. Now, as Nelson noted in his football analogy, we need someone to run the ball.”

  “Finally,” Nelson added, “we go on the offense.”

  David sat ramrod straight. His adrenalin kicked in, doing the job it was designed to do. “Judson, let me interject two issues before you get started. One is that the Hatch Act of 1939 prohibits employees of the federal government at my level from engaging in political activity. Yes, I know it could always be challenged, but there would be a long, drawn-out legal slugfest that would eventually end up in the Supreme Court. That could take years to resolve. With the conservative bench we have today, and for the foreseeable future, it probably would not tilt in my—our—favor.”

  “Noted,” Judson said. “And the second issue?”

  “From my perspective, an equally prohibitive showstopper: it’s public knowledge that President Sheppard is a close friend of mine, not to mention that he’s still in his first term of office and he’s immensely popular within his party. Yes, I know that you and everyone else in Washington are keenly aware that I don’t care for the vice president. I can’t stand the son of a bitch, and he spits on the ground every time he hears my name. But that’s irrelevant. Somehow, I suspect that none of this comes as a surprise to you, individually or as a group.”

  “You’re getting to know us well,” Milt said, grinning. Smiles and nods of affirmation encircled the table.

  Judson continued from where he had been interrupted: “We are acutely aware of everything you just said, David, but thank you for your comments. They give me a springboard for what I need to convey, which I hope will set your mind at ease and get this process moving. First of all, yes, we know about your relationship with the president and your loyalty to him as a person. We are also led to believe that loyalty does not extend to his political party. You seem to lean in their direction, at least on some matters. But you aren’t rabidly supportive of either party.”

  “That’s a fair assessment,” David agreed.

  Judson cleared his throat and swallowed a mouthful of iced tea. “You might recall a few years ago a religious fanatic with a history of allegedly accosting young women ran for a US Senate seat in Alabama as a Republican. One of his redneck supporters said on TV, in front of God and the entire world, ‘I’d vote for a pedophile before I’d vote for a Democrat.’”

  Melissa clenched her jaw, and Nelson’s lips silently framed the word asshole.

  “That single, stupid quote burned itself into the center of my brain and stuck with me all these years,” Judson continued. “It encapsulates the absurdity of the straight, uncompromising party-line mentality that is eroding the fabric of our country’s political system.”

  Judson’s emotional convictions crept out in the rising tenor of his voice, but he took a deep breath and continued. “We don’t see that in you, David. Your work with the Chinese and Russians in mediating the North Korean hostilities proved you were willing and able to seek out solutions that would serve both sides of an issue. And thank Go
d that you did.”

  Judson met David’s gaze directly, and David offered a nod, accepting his praise.

  Judson leaned forward. “David, in you, we see someone who is unrestrained by the conservative or liberal party mindsets. Someone who, given the opportunity and political freedom to do so, can objectively look at all sides of an issue and then craft what we in Envision-2100 have come to call an ‘eighty percent solution.’ Remember that phrase while you consider all of this. It encapsulates the essence of what we have come to believe is the best course—the only course—for the survival of this nation.”

  “What do you mean by ‘eighty percent solution’?” David asked.

  “It’s a simple statement of reality that neither the Democrats nor the Republicans have ever come to realize, much less accept.” Judson rose from his seat and placed his hands on the back of his chair. “Regardless of your policies, regardless of your laws, regardless of the course of action we take as a nation, we can’t please everyone. There will always be a ten percent fringe on the left who think we are too conservative; brown-shirted neo-Nazis who want to vacuum seal our borders and goosestep to ‘The Star-Spangled Banner.’ And there will always be a ten percent fringe on the right who think we want to take hard-earned money from the working class and give it to unemployed, dope-smoking baby mamas.

  “No president, no political party, no one person can even come close to satisfying both of those groups at the same time.” Judson threw his arms in the air. “Hell, Jesus Christ or Muhammad or Oprah couldn’t do it, so we don’t waste our time on either end of the sociopolitical spectrum. We focus all of our energy and resources on the remaining eighty percent. We take a common-sense, objective middle road, and we are forming a nationwide organization to represent this ideology. I’ll save that part of my discussion for last. It gets a little complicated, legally speaking.

  “So, back to your second and most obvious concern. President Sheppard is in his first term of office. His party loves him, and he has the highest average approval rating ever—well, since 1937. Kennedy led the pack for years with a solid seventy percent. Sheppard is knocking on seventy-two. He’s the darling of the overwhelming majority of Envision-2100 members. We would be more or less content to keep him in for another four years. He’s getting the country out of the quagmire created by the last administration. And keeping him in office for four more years certainly wouldn’t hurt anything and would give us more time to craft our go-forward strategy.

  “But here’s the rub, the thing that you don’t know and that we just learned the day before I called you.” Judson leaned forward and pressed his palms onto the table. “Sheppard won’t be around for another term.”

  9

  Old Faithful, Yellowstone National Park

  The day of

  Gently rolling, spruce-covered hills and a sparkling, fast-running stream surrounded the outskirts of the inn. They stood in stark and glaring contrast to the paved parking lots and walking paths that were necessary to accommodate the hordes of tourists but distracted from the park’s natural beauty.

  “Was it just me, or could you see Roland and Larry as regulars on The Big Bang Theory?” Judy mused.

  “What’s ‘the big bang theory’?” Fiona asked Ellis.

  “That’s those goofy reruns with all the nerds that Mom thinks are so funny,” Ellis responded.

  Jeremy glanced at Judy and grinned.

  “Better watch out, you two. Chances are you’ll end up working for a nerd,” Judy chided.

  “Or marrying one. You know, like I did.” Jeremy dodged an arm poke from Judy.

  The foursome headed toward the Old Faithful geyser mound, which rose a few feet above the ground.

  “Active geysers are extremely rare.” Jeremy glanced at the brochure he carried. “According to this, there are only about one thousand on earth, and more than half of those are in Yellowstone.”

  Centuries of steam and mineral-laden, superhot water shooting out of the ground had left the area around Old Faithful’s vent looking more like the surface of the moon than Northwest Wyoming. The landscape surrounding the geyser wasn’t a pretty sight either, yet tourists flocked by the thousands to watch its clockwork eruptions. The Park Service had roped off a fifty-meter circle around the vent to prevent tourists from being scalded whenever almost eight-thousand gallons of 350-degree steam and water shot into the air. They had also built a two-foot-tall crescent-shaped concrete bench along the southeast side, close to the inn and cafeteria.

  “How high does Old Faithful shoot, Dad?” Ellis asked.

  Jeremy studied the brochure. “Historically, the average eruption reached a height of around a hundred and twenty feet. That’s about twenty of me stacked one on top of the other.”

  It was a little after 5:00 p.m. when they settled on the long section of concrete seating around the geyser. At least one hundred other visitors were either sitting on the bench or milling around, waiting for Old Faithful’s next performance.

  Shortly before the predicted time of the eruption, a park ranger began a well-rehearsed narration. “Hello, everyone. My name is Nancy Wieser. I’m a park ranger and your host for today. Welcome to Yellowstone National Park, home of the famous Old Faithful geyser, one of the natural wonders of the world. Unlike Disneyland, what you’ll see in a few minutes is the real deal, complete with water and steam that’s been measured at over three hundred fifty degrees Fahrenheit. For our Canadian friends, and pretty much everyone else, that’s ninety-five degrees Celsius, hot enough to cook a chicken. So when I say to keep your arms and legs inside the ride, I mean—”

  A loud rumble exploded beneath their feet. Nancy Wieser toppled sideways. People on the bench bounced almost a foot into the air and slammed back down onto the concrete, only to bounce again. Those who were standing or walking around were thrown to the ground.

  A mixture of surprised screams and curses erupted from the crowd. Selfie sticks sprayed into the air over a small group of identically dressed, school-age Chinese boys.

  “OK, that one hurt,” Ellis whimpered as she stood up, rubbing her behind.

  Fiona gently touched a minor scrape on the back of her thigh. She winced. “Yeah, it was fun at first, but they’re getting worse, and it’s kind of scary.”

  Judy rifled through her purse for a bandage, spun Fiona around, tore off the wrapper, and gently pressed it over the scrape.

  “Ow!” Fiona cried.

  The ranger stood up, obviously trembling, and dusted off her pants. She picked up her microphone and addressed the crowd: “I . . . I think that’s the worst one we’ve had since I’ve been working here. They’ve been getting stronger and more frequent the last few days, but the park is still open, so there is nothing to worry about.” She cleared her throat and regained her composure.

  Fiona gingerly touched her thigh, grumbling. “Yeah. Right. Nothing to worry about.”

  “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, Old Faithful is a cone geyser. Up until very recently, it has been erupting every forty-five to one hundred twenty minutes. However, over the last few days, the eruption intervals have been getting progressively shorter. In fact, since yesterday morning, they’ve been averaging—”

  A mild tremor shook the area, prompting a few startled gasps and muffled screams. Jeremy grabbed Judy’s arm, and Judy threw her other arm around the twins. A massive column of steam and water exploded with a deafening roar from Old Faithful’s vent, drowning out shrieks from Judy and the girls. Jeremy hauled them away from the vent and the soaring column, which easily exceeded the length of a football field in height. A brisk northwesterly breeze sent the scalding water away from the spectators.

  Nancy Wieser screamed into her microphone, “Ladies and gentlemen, please move back toward the parking lot. This area is closed until further notice.” She herded the fleeing guests toward the viewing area exit and helped an elderly man push his
wife’s wheelchair toward the gate.

  Jeremy and Judy muscled the twins in front of them and joined the crowd scurrying toward the parking lot. After everyone piled into the truck, Jeremy started the engine, pulled onto US 191, and began the hour-plus drive toward Colter Bay.

  Due to the traffic evacuating the area surrounding Old Faithful, progress was slower than it had been during the northbound trip that morning. As they drove, Judy, assumed a no-nonsense tone. “Jeremy Richards, it’s time to pull the plug on this vacation and start heading back east.”

  “Uh-oh,” Fiona chirped in the back seat. “She used his full name.”

  Jeremy glanced at his wife, who was giving him a no-nonsense look to match her tone. There was no use arguing. Besides, she was right. He glanced at the truck’s clock. “It’s five thirty now; it will be past seven by the time we get back to the campground. And we need to fill up the truck, so let’s say seven thirty before we’re at the site and ready to hook up the Airstream. We could be ready to roll by eight. It’ll be dark by nine. So, do we pull out right away, or do we stay the night then hit the bricks first thing in the morning?”

  “You’re right, that’s the first question,” Judy replied. “Then we need to decide which route to take out of here. Do we head due south through Jackson or southeast across the mountains?”

  “Do we get a vote?” Fiona pleaded from the back seat.

  “I vote we leave in the morning after breakfast,” Ellis said.

  “I’m with Ellis,” Fiona chimed. “We didn’t drive all the way out here just to stay one night. Besides, I’m starving.”