The Yellowstone Conundrum (51 page)

  “All right, where do we meet?
We’ll need an inventory of cars, gas, food, blankets, flashlights, sleeping bags, tents, any kind of backpacking or camping equipment, you name it. I-70 through the tunnel is probably jammed,” she paused. “I don’t suppose you know anyone who might have a weapon?”

That word above all earthly powers,

             
no thanks to them, abideth;

             
the Spirit and the gifts are ours,

             
thru him who with us sideth. 

             
Let goods and kindred go,

             
this mortal life also;

             
the body they may kill;

             
God's truth abideth still;

             
his kingdom is foreve
r
.

  David sighed, shifted his 22-year old feet this way and that. “Yeah, probably,” he replied reluctantly.

 
“As much and as many as you can procure,” she sighed.     “Legally,” then shook her head.  “Shit!” she sighed again.   “OK, as many as you can procure.”  

 
Inside the church the music was entering the final stanza.

  “How about a snowplow? And some diesel?”
She was testing the young man; she watched as the marbles raced around inside his brain, then fell into the right places.

 
David’s face scrunched into an interesting almost Spock-like look.
I never thought of that
. His face expressed. 

 
“Are you thinking of Loveland Pass?” he exclaimed. “Cool!”

 
The crescendo of A Mighty Fortress came to a roaring conclusion, the medieval bad guys slain, the cross marching triumphantly on across the swath of Europe, then to the home of all religions, the Middle East, where they didn’t fare as well and never will.

  “Yes, I am.
I-70 has to be a zoo, probably stopped by avalanches. It’s going to be slow going. Every vehicle needs to be full. We won’t have much food; local folks will have raided the cookie jars. We need to meet in two hours, but where?” she asked urgently. The benediction was being read and people would be flowing out of the church, including some of her people. “Snowplow, gas, as many cars as we can get, food, weapons.”
Listen to yourself, girl.  You sound like Ms. Rambo.

 
It’s what Robert would want me to do.

 
David hemmed and hawed. “Ma’am the upper-class off-campus housing is at Mimes Park. Do you know where that is?”

 
“Yes, I’ve heard of it,” she raised an eyebrow.

 
It wasn’t just Colorado that liberalized co-ed dorms; they were everywhere; colleges had long since given in to the fact that there was a lot of fucking and sucking going on, and that no matter what pressure alumni or Mom and Dad could try to so; there was going to be fucking and sucking regardless. So, what the hell; make it available, don’t try to police it, sex was here to stay; if the kids didn’t make it, well, there would be more kids to take their places.

 
“I’m not thrilled,” she replied, honestly.

 
David laughed.

  “What about Kappa Sig?
That’s my fraternity,” he added.  “We have a fireplace and plenty of wood.”

 
“I’m still not thrilled,” shaking her head. “My ladies will feel pretty uncomfortable in a dark frat house with snoogling going on in front of the fireplace. I’ve been to fraternities. Behind her, the doors opened to the church, exhaling the worshipers. She looked at the young man earnestly.

  “I’ll fix it,” David assured.
“I don’t imagine the Geological Survey office has a fireplace,” he smiled.

 
“No, it doesn’t.”

 
Her other choice was to tell David to bring everyone to her building, sleep in the cold on hard floors. It made more sense to go to Kappa Sig.

 
”I have to tell you, David, my job is to take care of my people; they’re all adults. If we go, we go as fast as we can. I’m not going to be held back in order to nursemaid some 19-year co-eds who just want to have sex and don’t want to work, or wear the wrong shoes and can’t walk in snow or gets her thong twisted, and that’s what I’m going to tell your folks tonight.”

 
“Some of them will need it,” David agreed, nodding his head.

 
“All right, we’ll be over around seven. Some of my people may not want to leave tomorrow,” Nancy added.

 
“The people staying will have to figure it out,” David rationalized.

 
“We could use sleeping bags and blankets if you have any extras.”

  Dav
id’s head nodded I understand.

 
The worshippers streamed past them; Alma catching up with Nancy.

 
“Are you all right, ma’am?” Alma asked, earnestly.

 
“That’s the second time I’ve been called ‘ma’am’ tonight.   My name is Nancy or Miss Nancy. Let’s go home, Alma; we need to talk to the folks.”

Yellowstone River Campground

12 miles west of Billings, Montana

Stop your grinnin’ and grab your linen

 
Hudsen, Aliens: 1986 actor Bill Paxon

“New momma!  New momma!” Came the high-pitched cry.  Penny awoke and looked in a start. She’d been deep into an action dream, her head numb with Jack Daniels; the headache to come in few hours.

 
What?

 
The children repeated their cry.

 
She’d been asleep for less than two hours; in fact it was still late dusk. 

 
Chinka chinka chinka

 
Shit!  The black cloud had made its way northward to the Billings area!

 
“You can’t let me die like this you fucking bitch! Get down her and help me! Please! Please! Please help me!” Penny could hear the old man’s cries.

 
The tent was rocking and rolling with anxious children.  Penny struggled out of the tent, and turned to the children.

  “I’ll be back.
Don’t go anywhere,” she reprimanded them.

  Black crap had started to fall; she obviously had to get further north or east. Penny scrambled down the embankment and made her way across the rocks that had been made smooth by thousands of years of Yellowstone River water. Smooth rocks were difficult to navigate quickly.

 
Now at the 2004 Chevy Sonoma, the vehicle was deep enough in the cold, late afternoon water that it could be moved back and forth with virtually no effort. It wouldn’t be a surprise if the Yellowstone said
come on down
, and took the beat-up Sonoma for a field trip toward Billings. 

 
Penny could hear the man’s labored breathing. The car was stuck in the river, passenger side into the water, good luck for the old turd. The door was too high for her to reach from the ground, so she tried from the back; gaining some traction on the rear bumper, Penny was able to scramble up to the F-10’s left rear wheel, and balance herself on the passenger window.

 
Whoa!

  T
he Sonoma started to shift in the water, making scratchy gravelly noises on the smooth pebbles below. Penny yelped, thinking she was going to tumble into the water.  The vehicle felt unstable as hell.  The Yellowstone River was taking the first pieces of volcanic ash.

 
“Come on!  Hurry the fuck up!” The rude shout came from inside the cab.

 
Why am I here
she asked herself. Penny balanced herself as she opened the driver’s side of the cab; out rushed a stench of human waste, vomit, and five-day male body odor.

  “Man!  That’s awful! Jesus Fucking Christ! Shit!
How can you fucking stand yourself, you big piece of shit?” she shouted at him. The Smell from Hell caused her to shift her feet again, this time directing the spin of the Sonoma; the truck’s body gave her a definite feeling of surf’s up as it started to shift toward the middle of the fast-moving river.

 
In very poor light Penny saw that the old dude was hanging by his seat belt, and because his heavy body was leaning downhill, his right arm pinned by the seat and the angle,  there was no way he could reach around with his left hand and release the clasp. 

 
Hoping that the open driver’s side door wouldn’t fall on her, wouldn’t that be a treat, Penny hung onto the steering wheel with her left hand, and needed another left hand, with her face to the windshield, shot her right hand around the big body and groped for the seatbelt release.

 
“Don’t you try to feel me up, girlie!” he shouted. 

Penny had
plenty of retorts but no time. Yes! The seatbelt release! Snap! Whack went the chest release. 

 
Picture a one-second flying asshole.

  Smack!
The old turd fell face forward into the passenger floorboard, which was now slushy with six inches of Yellowstone River. It was like throwing a porcupine into a tub of hot water; a new definition of a Whirling Dervish.  It was like all of a sudden had six legs and arms.

 
“Old dude!” she shouted. Huh. “Stop moving, you old fuck,” she said with a soft voice that stopped him from snorting something else to her. “Stop!” she shouted.  “Climb to me,” Penny had backed out of the driver’s side seat and was perched on the upper level of the Sonoma, which had started to rock and roll; release me! It said.

 
The old man finally realized what condition his condition was in and shut his trap, instead attempting to stand and navigate through the driver’s side door. Penny’s arm was there to grab him, to help him; instead the asshole tried to start to pull her back down into the cab. Instead of her hand, he grabbed for her breasts, getting a brief but good feel. In the same swipe his hand found her crotch with two fingers landing in the right spot.

  “No!  You piece of shit!
No!” Penny smacked him hard across the head with her right hand; her left still holding onto the steering wheel. “You evil, cock-sucker!” she shouted, and kicked him in the face, momentarily stunning him.”

 
Time to go
, Penny her clock rang.

 
Penny jumped off the Sonoma and landed into eight inches of cold, rolling Yellowstone River. The truck was starting to rotate.  The old dude had regained some of his senses and started to climb out of the driver’s side onto the spot where Penny had perched, but then fell back into the cab, heavyweight butt falling first, smack into the passenger side foot well and six inches of Yellowstone River water.

 
“You get your pink twat back here you little bitch,” he shouted. “You can’t leave me out here. I’ll sue your little slit and have your ass for breakfast!”

 
The 2004 Chevy Sonoma caught the inside current and no longer made slushing sounds as it slowly crawled over the worn rocks and pebbles.

 
With hateful anger Penny grabbed a “smoothie” and hurled it at the truck; whack went the sound as it bounced off the cab and fell into the river; then she fell to her knees, oblivious to the cold. She’d almost been taken to her death by the depth of her humanity; that people were basically good, and that when people were in trouble, it was your responsibility as a human being to help. 

 
How fucking stupid can you get?
  She cursed herself.

 
The Chevy now was in deeper water. Water inside the cab would get deeper as well. The Old Fuck was stuck like a cork in a bottle of wine. Water would be in his lap, and very cold, like holding a bucket of ice cubes. At some point the balance of the cab would shift, tires and frame rotating because they were heavier. The F-10 would catch the deepest part of the Yellowstone River and float downstream, eventually catching on a rock or rock outcropping.  The Old Fuck would either drown or freeze to death; from Penny’s standpoint, both were satisfactory.

  Now it was dark.
The bits of sky continued to fall.  Penny scrambled the last few feet and wordlessly pointed to the children to get into the cab. Staggering, she swept the tent and all the gear into the flatbed of the Toyota; found her keys in her wet pants, staggered back to the cab and got in; fired up the truck, wheeled out of the campground, and on instinct turned left (east). The truck was covered with a light dust of volcanic crap; she started the windshield wipers; flappa-flappa, it sounded like she was washing the window with a Brillo pad.

 
Immediately, she found River Road which she still logically figured, followed the fucking river. Penny tore-ass east on the road; the children were beside her in wide-eyed bewilderment for about the tenth time today. Eight miles later they came to an intersection with Duck Creek Road. In that brief distance the sky had stopped raining volcanic ash, but Penny knew it was following her, like a monster, slowly grabbing behind, trying to pull her back, growling, and jaws snapping in anger.

   “Shit!  Mother-fucker!
You god-damned son of a fucking bitch!  You are not going to win!” Penny beat on the steering wheel of the old truck. Wheeling to the left, Penny turned and found herself on a road that crossed the Yellowstone River.  There were no more prayers left, only that the Old Fuck would drown somewhere directly under her as she crossed the river.

 
Oh man oh man oh man
, she came to the entrance to I-90.  Long gone was the home that she’d find homes for the two children next to her; only that she could save them for Just One Night. 

 
Downtown Billings lay in ruins to her left as she slowly made her way onto I-90 eastbound. The highway was dark.  The town of Billings was mostly dark, lit only by dozens of fires from exploding gas lines. A clear light would have shown the tall buildings in town were destroyed; power out, services out; and the Black Cloud on its way. Not a good day.

 
Penny had a half-tank of fuel left, but was secure in the knowledge she had camping equipment for the three of them.  Soon Billings was in the distance. She slowly approached each and every overcrossing. In the middle of nowhere I-90 broke off and went south, toward Cheyenne and Denver.  Somewhere in Wyoming it would head east and the southern road would become I-25, home for long-distance north-south truckers.

  S
he couldn’t see anything to the west because it was already night. She was the only person on interstate 94 East. Why was that?  Well, she thought to herself. 
There’s probably some big-assed fuck-up ahead.
  

 
The children had fallen asleep but Penny was wired.

 
Just go until you can’t go any more, then wake up and see if you can figure anything out.  Just, go.

 
Penny continued to spin the search dial on the radio bands, hoping to find something.

 
You did great today, Penny-girl. Abandoned your boyfriend to die, beat up a drunk woman, killed a mean old man, got pregnant and had twins.  Whew, what’s up for tomorrow?