“Where’s Richard?”
“Duh, he’s in the restaurant.”
Stew had barely waited for Kelly to finish her sentence before rushing out of the shop and down the hall. He slowed his pace as he entered the restaurant, giving the cute female host a wave as he passed by. Most of the employees knew him and thought nothing odd about seeing him pass through the restaurant, but Stew had never passed through the double doors into the kitchen.
“You’re not supposed to be back here,” Kevin shouted from behind the cook line.
“Bite me.” Stew gave him the finger and went about his search, passing the soda station and the bread warmers. “Hey!” he yelled, waving a hand to Richard as he came out of the walk-in refrigerator.
“What the hell are you doing back here?” Richard looked around to make sure his manager hadn’t seen him come in. “You could get written up for this.”
“Meet me in the ice cream shop in five minutes.” Stew turned and left the kitchen before Richard could offer a word of protest.
Richard hurried over to the prep area and took off his white apron. He folded it neatly and placed it beneath the table. “Hey John.” Richard hurried over to a very obese prep cook, someone he’d come to like and trust within the past few weeks. “Hey, I have to duck out for a few minutes, could you just keep an eye on my station and make sure no one misses me?”
“Hell yeah, buddy. Long as you cover my ass down the road.” John gave a snort and headed off toward the beverage station to have his fourth hot chocolate of the morning.
Richard exited the kitchen, moving quickly to avoid being seen by his manager. He took a look over his shoulder and saw Gretchen heading outside for yet another smoke break. No one stank more in the entire camp than Gretchen. Her hair soaked up every puff of smoke and proudly hung onto it, emanating a hideous odor that reminded him of his grandmother’s house. He shuddered at the thought of his grandmother, a nasty old woman that took pleasure is smacking his bottom with a wooden spoon. Smack! You’re being a pisser. Smack!
“What the hell is going on?” Richard asked as he turned the corner, holding his hands up in the air.
“At the table.” Stew ran to the nearest booth and took a seat, bouncing with excitement. “You’re not going to believe what I just heard.”
“If this is some kind of bodily function joke…”
“Cool it Kelly, this is very important.” Stew looked out into the hall and confirmed there was no one within earshot. “I was out in the woods just beyond the cabins and I overhead that dickhead ranger Joe talking to a fireman.”
“I left work for this ramble,” Richard interrupted as he stood up from the booth.
“Sit your ass back down and be patient.” Stew pointed, his face dead serious. “Now listen. Ranger Joe came up out of this hole in the ground. He said the hole was full of bones. The fireman said his man was pulled out of that hole with something hiding in his suit. Now when they let that fireman rest in the Inn, whatever was in his suit got loose. It killed the fireman and is now lurking somewhere in this hotel.” Stew tapped the table, confirming that he did indeed mean the Old Faithful Inn.
A moment of silence passed between them, probably the longest the four of them had ever been together without speech. They shared the same expression—their brows furrowed, their mouths slightly agape.
“It gets better.”
“You’re shitting us.” Richard laughed, but it was short-lived.
“No, listen to this. The rangers and the fireman are setting up this phony baloney evacuation set for tomorrow to get everyone out. Once we’re gone, they’re going to lock this place down and hunt the bastard. I’m telling the truth, scout’s honor, cross my heart and all that.” Stew dragged a finger across his heart and held up his hand as if swearing in court.
“I can’t believe this.” Kelly shook her head, wanting to punch Stew in the arm for creating such a lie, but his face was completely honest. There was no lying in his eyes. She looked out the window, searching for the black smoke rising out of the trees to the south. This was the first time in days she’d actually had to search for it. “This is too real.”
“Why wouldn’t they want help? Like more men with massive amounts of guns?” Sonia tapped the table. “Doesn’t that make a whole lot more sense?”
“I’m staying.”
They looked at Stew as if he had trees growing out the middle of his forehead, their eyes wide.
“Are you insane?” Richard leaned across the table, keeping his voice clear as a tourist walked into the gift shop. “Let’s just pretend for one moment that you’re not hopped up on dope and this shit is real.”
“It is real.” Stew raised his voice.
“Fine. Why the hell would you want to put yourself right smack dab in the center of a dangerous situation?”
“This thing killed four of our friends. Took two of them right out from under our noses in the middle of the night.”
“Janice and Marco aren’t missing!” Sonia was angry, her hands shaking.
“Look at the facts, girl. They’re missing, just like half the people around here.” Stew took a moment to look from face to face, expecting further debate but receiving none. They all knew it was true. “That bastard is going to send everyone away while they try and kill it, which means not only do they know what happened to our friends, but they’re planning to cover it up.” Stew hit the table with his fist, overflowing with emotion. He saw the faces of his friends spinning around him like a halo of shame, mocking him with their sad expressions. If he could talk to them right now, would they blame him for what happened?
“I agree. This is fucked up.” Richard looked up from his folded hands. “They’re going to kill this thing and pretend none of this ever happened, labeling our friends as young runaways. They deserve better that that. They deserve justice.”
“You’re not seriously considering this, are you?”
Richard looked Kelly in the eyes and nodded, apologizing with his hangdog expression.
“This is absurd.” Kelly stood from the booth and walked back behind the counter, lifting the glass cover while helping herself to two scoops of chocolate ice cream. She’d been so good about resisting the urge to pig-out, but this was serious. Emotional eating was well deserved. “I’m not doing it.”
“Can I have a cone?” Sonia asked, her voice small as it often was when she wanted something, knowing cute won out over bossy any day. “Thank you.” Sonia smiled as Kelly set a waffle bowl down before her on the table, two scoops of chocolate looking up at her. Sonia had worked so hard to keep her small frame void of fat, but she too was an emotional eater; a problem that had plagued her from her childhood when she used to eat during her parents’ fights. They’d be screaming at each other upstairs, leaving only the dining room and the kitchen safe. So she hid there, her mind off their harsh words and set dead center into a bowl of sugary cereal or ice cream. And just as it had been back then, she wanted to cry.
“What’s the plan?”
Stew leaned forward; thankful he had at least Richard on his side. He held out his hands before them on the table. “Tonight, after I lock up the equipment shed, I’ll ‘borrow’ the camcorder we have.” Stew lowered his voice, spying a curious Gretchen eyeing them from down the hall. He gave her a smile and a wink, wanting to laugh as she turned her nose up and looked away. “We then head up to the third or fourth floor rafters and set the puppy up. I did some maintenance work with Dillon my first week here, so I know there’s a great view of the entire lobby. And we’ll be completely hidden.”
“I have to admit, the jackass has a good plan.” Richard leaned back, running it over and over in his head for flaws and honestly finding none.
“Tonight, huh? What about super bitch?” Kelly hooked a thumb out to the hall, aiming it directly at Gretchen.
“Oh please, like it’s that hard to sneak past a heavy smoker like her. She takes thirty smoke breaks a day. I’ll just have one of you ask her out for a puff. When you head out, Richard and I head in.” Stew smiled, nodding as it all came together.
“I love how you’re incorporating us into this scheme of yours.” Kelly folded her arms, scowling at Stew and disappointed in Richard. He should have immediately opted for leaving with the rest of them, making sure his girl made it out safely.
“I think we should.” Sonia looked up from her ice cream. “I need to know this thing is dead. And I think Stew is right, our friends deserve more than that.”
Kelly looked from one sour expression to the next, all three of them agreeing to something so foolish. “You really want to just hang up in the rafters and watch these poor men hunt some creature?”
“Poor men, my ass!” Stew sat up straight, fueled with anger. “That ranger stood there and told us our friends were just a bunch of love-struck idiots that ran off together; just some dumb kids. But now he knows they were brutally murdered by some forest creature and he says nothing. He’s not even going to inform their families. Instead he’ll continue to let everyone believe that they’re all a bunch of wide-eyed morons that took off. That’s just plain wrong. I can’t even stomach that.” Stew grimaced, pressing his teeth together in a snarl. “I’m going to get those jerks right on camera for the entire world to see.”
Kelly nodded, not about the jerks on camera, but because she too felt her friends’ families had a right to know the truth. The thought of her friends being dragged off to a “brutal death,” as Stew had described, being torn to shreds and eaten alive, made her slide the rest of her ice cream across the table. The cure for emotional eating was losing your appetite over imagery so horrific it would later be a nightmare.
“I get off at nine.” Stew placed his hand on the center of the table, palm down. “We’re all in agreement?”
“Yes.” Richard put his hand on Stew’s.
“As long as we’re high up and out of danger.” Sonia set her hand on Richard’s.
Kelly felt the weight of their eyes, the pressure all but attacking her integrity, like a sub sinking well beyond the recommended depth. On the one hand she had the perfect excuse to hop on a bus and leave all this danger behind. But here were all her friends, looking at her with their pleading eyes, begging for her help. She probably couldn’t really do much for them, but she placed her hand on top. As hot-tempered as Stew was, she felt he was right about this. Sometimes you have to put aside your fear and do what’s right.
33
J
oe couldn’t take his eyes off his hands. Resting upon the wheel, shaking bad. Was it from the lack of alcohol? Or was he just truly that afraid? He took a deep breath and looked beyond his hands to the road, knowing the mixture to be about fifty-fifty. He had never wanted a drink so bad in his life. Just a quick little swig, something to calm his nerves enough to get this done. But that had been his problem all along. He’d calmed his nerves nearly to death, letting this problem escalate when he should have been on top of it from the get go. Joe focused on his breathing, pulling his mind out of his inner coat pocket and back to the road where it belonged; back into the park where it was so desperately needed right now.
An elk was lying in a pasture to his right; some buffalo were roaming right beside the road. This was what he’d forgotten, his memory drowning in the bottle. When he’d first come to the park as a child, he couldn’t get it out of his head; the rivers, the lake, the most amazing thermal features, more smells than he could count. As a young ranger, he’d often spent every waking moment on a trail or parked by a babbling stream, losing himself in the trickle of water. One memory that stuck out above all else had been back in sixty-four. He’d actually forgotten about it until this moment. How he could have forgotten something that had meant so much to him, something that highlighted his entire career as a ranger, was beyond him. It baffled and disturbed him. Had he really been out of it so long he’d begun to forget his life? But that was the gift the booze gave him; a bottle of “forget me” juice. Drink your mind away and watch your troubles disappear. Sadly, it took more than your troubles. Booze didn’t differentiate between good and bad memories; it just washed them all down. And there was no flood insurance for memory lane.
Now that his mind had a brief escape from the liquid hold, he remembered the day clearly; the strong smell of sulfur from the thermal vents along the road, the sun high above the road, dead center in a blue sky. It had started out as an average day. But then he’d gotten that all too familiar call, requesting his response to a car accident up by Lake. Joe had driven to the site, riding the shoulder to pass by the long line of curious motorists. At first he saw only a blocked road, no sign of an accident. But then he saw the skid marks. He put the truck in park and followed the dark parallel lines crossing the road straight over the shoulder and down the steep hill. At the bottom of the hill was a red station wagon; its front bumper wrapped around a tree. What was more jarring was the fact the car was upside-down. It looked crumpled, pushed together as if it had first been between the hands of a giant interested in playing the accordion. It was a depressing sight, knowing that he’d have to be the one to find this poor person impaled on the steering wheel.
He couldn’t believe his own eyes when the driver’s side door was pushed open and a young man came crawling out. Joe stood on the shoulder in utter shock, watching as the young man stood up, turning to look at the car with his hands on his head. Before Joe could say a word, the man began climbing up the hill, moving with the speed of a hiker having a friendly climb.
“Lay down, now!” Joe was panicked, taking hold of the man’s hand as he made it to the top. “You might have something broken and not know it.” Joe helped him onto his back. “Stay as motionless as possible, just in case. You might be in shock.”
“Okay.” His tone was shaken, but calm.
Joe just nodded, standing above him in disbelief. He looked from the man on the ground back to the remains of the car and then back again, over and over to confirm he was lying before him. It wasn’t until he read the accident report the following day that he found out the young man was an employee with Canyon. He was released from the Lake hospital an hour after being admitted, his treatment requiring nothing more than a few aspirin; not a single scratch after he’d swerved his car for a squirrel, a freaking squirrel of all things, rolling it three times upside down into a tree. Not a single, tiny scratch. Joe realized at that moment that he had witnessed a miracle; Yellowstone was the kind of place where anything could happen. Now, years later, he’d nearly lost the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.
Joe felt like crying, an odd sensation to feel as you’re flying down a highway seeking monster advice. But there it was; an urge to pull over and once again to mourn the loss of his son and himself, the man he used to know. If the memory he’d cherished for so many years could poke through the barren wasteland of his current existence, then maybe there was hope for the man he used to be. The passion was still there. He could feel it; that little voice pushing him forward, telling him to go five miles faster, despite the posted limit. He had a park to save. He had himself to save.