Rain of Fire (37 page)

An hour later Nick lay with his back to the bed Kyle had chosen. More than once he opened his eyes and stared at the cold sky spawning another swirl of snowflakes. He’d left the drapes open to let some cool in, balancing the steam radiator’s relentless enthusiasm.

He wouldn’t have thought he’d be sleeping alone. Even when he’d walked out to get their laundry, he’d believed in his ability to talk Kyle into changing her stance.

Wondering if she was asleep, he considered just slipping into bed beside her … but his respect for her was too great. He had to play it straight, for no other women had ever brought him close to really settling down.

He lay back and tried not to think. He could count sheep, but the riddle of Nez Perce Peak was more interesting. He’d agreed to come out of the field because he knew Kyle would insist on it no matter how much he wanted to stay. Now, this hotel with all the amenities felt like the sidelines with a big game in progress.

Nick closed his eyes and imagined Nez Perce, pristine and unspoiled, except where wildfires had left their mark. Like any treacherous dormant volcano, it wore a veil of green and masqueraded as a cool and airy peak.

Then, in his mind’s eye, it erupted. First, a steam explosion formed a crater, beckoning him to stand on the rim and peer into the inner workings. Already, he could smell acid fumes and feel heat pouring from the chasm.

Nick began to drift; images of rough hot rock, his footsteps crunching over clinker, and the taste of sulfur spun in his head.

In his dream, he was first on the scene and loving it at Hawaii Volcanoes National Park. He watched the high fountains of fire, burbling endlessly into the black of night. Bits of bright liquid were tossed hundreds of feet, sparkling like fireworks.

It was beautiful but treacherous to be out here in darkness. The fresh crust of pahoehoe, the smooth, billowy variety of lava, hid many voids. One might walk across the same spot safely several times, but then luck could run out.

There was a constant low rumble from the earth, a trembling roar pounding through tubes beneath the crust. Great thumps and whumps of liquid lava sloshed against the walls of a vacant chamber, alternating with panting respirations that might have been a monster inside its lair.

Where the river of molten rock met the ocean, it hissed like a dragon. Waves hurled onto the shore and flashed to vapor. The glow lit the underside of the steam clouds, turning them an eerie grayish-orange.

Nick stood near a dark flow that moved slowly like congealing cake batter. Heat radiated toward him as though he stood before an open oven. Upstream, a crack appeared in the top of a rounded lava dome. The fissure burned bright.

Another appeared about ten feet closer.

While Nick watched, the piece of black rock between the cracks began to float, then was submerged in a fresh flood of red. Another section broke free and the stream became a raging torrent. It washed toward the low ridge, not three feet high, which separated Nick from the lava channel.

He turned and ran. The wall of heat that pushed him was so strong he thought his hair might catch fire. For a moment, he wished he was wearing one of those moon suits with the hoods and masks, but they weren’t used much because the visors had a tendency to fog, and in a headlong rush they were too bulky and slow.

Nick’s foot crashed through the crust, and he went down. The sharp glassy surface sliced his hands. He struggled to pull out of the hole as heat seared through the sole of his boot. Only the insulating effect of the solidified rock kept him from bursting into flame.

He dragged his leg onto the crust and managed to get up. The wind shifted, bringing the stinging stench of sulfur dioxide. Trying to contour uphill, he broke through the crust again. He was on fire, screaming in searing agony, but it was cold, so cold. His whole body was turning to ice. All the light and the life were going out of him, for his luck had finally run out.

Nick woke with a shock, chilled to the bone and sobbing like a child. He’d thrown off his covers and lay naked. Outside the window, snow still fell.

Strong fingers gripped his bare shoulder. “Nick,” Kyle said. “You’re having a nightmare.” She lifted the crumpled covers and smoothed them over his bare body. Her weight depressed the bed as she sat. “They must have turned off the heat after midnight.”

He felt groggy trying to focus on the cold hotel room while the afterimage of lava made the bathroom light Kyle had left on look green. Uncoiling from his fetal position, he swiped at his tears. “Sorry. Damned silly of me.”

“I have nightmares, too.” Kyle’s strong chin divided her face into a Harlequin mask, part dark where the shadows fell.

“Not like this one.”

Kyle had never seen Nick this vulnerable. With his tear-stained face and bloody bandage, it was all she could do not to clasp him to her heart.

He drew his knees up and cocooned beneath the covers. Feeling the cold herself, she rose and dragged the spread off her bed, sat back down and wrapped herself. “So tell me your nightmare.”

His face began to compose itself back into controlled lines.

She grabbed his hand to keep him from withdrawing. “No bullshit, Nick. Let’s have the dream that just woke you crying like a baby.”

He grinned. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re a relentless woman?”

“Every one of my students.”

Even as she held on to him, she felt him slipping away, back to the man who walked the edge. There was only one thing she could think of that might pull him closer, something she’d never thought she was capable of… until Wyatt broke down her defenses. If she told Nick about her sixth birthday, let him see inside her and understand the fears she had for both herself and him …

“Shall I tell you a nightmare first?” she asked with a calm she did not feel.

“Okay.”

With her free hand, she snuggled the bedspread tighter around her shoulders. She still felt cold. “When I was six …”

“No bullshit,” Nick warned.

“Stay with me. The night I turned six, my family and I were camping in Rock Creek Campground over in Montana. That was on August 17, 1959.”

“Oh, Jesus.” His expression went stark. “This is no dream.”

“I lost my mother and father and our dog Max during the earthquake and flood.” Nick reached out his hand. She took it. “In my dreams I found them. Over and over I’d uncover Mom or Dad. Sometimes they’d be perfectly preserved, but their staring clouded eyes said life was gone. The next time I’d find a mass of bloody rags, but I’d know it was one of them.”

“Your dreams win,” Nick conceded. “No contest.”

Kyle hugged her knees and for a moment, the only sound was their quickened breathing.

He nodded toward the bathroom. “No wonder you sleep with a light.”

He frowned. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I couldn’t talk about it.”

Nick gestured for her to come into his arms.

She remained where she was. “Just this week, I told the first person.”

“Wyatt.” Nick’s hands lowered.

“Now your dream,” she suggested.

“Mine?” He shrugged. “It’s not about anything that ever happened to me.”

She felt the house of cards she’d built collapsing. “Then what were you afraid of?”

“I fell into a lava flow. Thought I was dying until I woke up.”

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.

K
yle 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.