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11:11 – Chapter 48
March 12, 2012
The first couple of days following our unlikely reunion passed like a dream.
To this day, it hurts that I cannot really remember them. Carrie and I were always inseparable but we were utterly lost in one another.
Kenneth and Andy sparred and jousted and took turns tending to Stacy, who had a rough few days after being shot.
Luckily for her she had a senior angel and a lord of a death to look after her, with Carrie serving as a mother hen, hushing them when their voices grew too loud and double-checking their nursing efforts.
The rest of the time we spent locked away in ‘our’ room catching one another up and rarely letting go. We didn’t even notice when the night sky stopped glowing green. I couldn’t take my eyes or my hands off her. She always talked about how people should be more grateful and positive and if they practised it, it would materialize.
I always tried – I really did. But my natural inclinations, honed from several decades of journalism, kept dragging me back into negative and pessimistic holes.
Not now, though. I am a writer, or at least try to be one, but words fail me when I look at this screen and seek to tell the tale of how my heart soared and how my mind flowered in the days after Stacy was shot – nine in total. The days that led up to our departure from West Yellowstone.
On March 10 a violent earthquake rattled us, while we ate a late lunch, for more than 15 minutes. Kenneth became extremely pensive and Andy began disappearing for longer periods.
At their camp inside Yellowstone, Serena, Madeline and Ridley huddled together while the earth quaked and nearby hillsides shrugged rocks and boulders that snapped and crashed into the forests below.
Time passed much more slowly for them than it had for us, as we were in complete luxury compared to them. Their camp consisted of a solid canvas tent that Ridley had retrieved from his vehicle the day after he initially arrived. A pup tent would not do, he figured.
He also lugged more supplies back, which turned out to be a blessing because they were starting to run so low that they were down to one meal a day.
Madeline was terrified when the big quake hit. Countless smaller tremors had kept them on their toes the past few days and the scientist in Ridley thrilled repeatedly; first from the tremors, then from the increased volume of steam hissing from nearby vents. He noticed a large murder of crows – some 200 or 300 birds – pass overhead the day before the big quake and quickly hustled Serena and Madeline into the tent. He watched them through the back window and sighed with relief when the murder rapidly disappeared from sight.
Serena told him not to worry about the crows and ravens any more. Ridley was accustomed to her often cryptic-speak and he dismissed her comment as protective in nature.
After the earth stopped rolling and jerking, Serena said, “The birds knew; we know now too.”
Madeline waited for Ridley and when he didn’t speak, asked, “All right, Serena, know what?”
Ridley rolled his eyes when he heard the answer – “the beginning.”
He believed Serena and Kenneth – he had for many years, but her vague and symbolic chatter was starting to get on his hungry and frayed nerves.
A few aftershocks later, Andy disappeared from the B&B again and returned a short-time later with a souped-up, pale orange1963 Jeep Wagoneer. Like a good ancient killing machine, he had been keeping himself busy rigging the Jeep, which he found locked away in a national park compound. The rear window was covered by a steel plate that could be knocked down from the inside. Fastened on a small hinge swing on the rear passenger side door was a M60 light machine gun. Its belt-feed was positioned behind the rear bench seat for easy re-loading and the front of the gun itself was wrapped in a steel box, to stop it from swinging vehicle-ward and from being knocked out of commission with one lucky round.
A steel plate, crudely welded together, was fastened to the front grill and another steel plate, about eight inches high and as long as the window, provided extra coverage for those seated in the front.
Andy stood outside the Jeep and proudly fanned a hand before it, like Vanna White before a brand new deluxe fridge. “You like?” He said to no one in particular.
To everyone’s shock, even Andy’s, Kenneth woofed, “That will do very well.”
Like an excited nine-year-old, Andy began explaining all the features, which also included spare fuel cans mounted on the back of the Jeep and another one inside, next to the ammo, and an impressive cache of weapons he rounded up from the dead Mormans, a couple of spare tires and food. On the inside of the Jeep was more steel plating – braced against each door, with poorly-cut holes for the door and window handles. Finally, steel plating also covered the six side windows. A rudimentary steel and iron roof mount/hinge allowed one to push the cover up and lean it against the roof of the vehicle, providing a little overhead cover, as well as from the side.
“Aside from the tires, she’ll be able to get by pretty much any surprises along the way,” he said proudly. He seemed truly proud of his Gothic additions to the Jeep.
“We’ll load it up tomorrow after we scour this town one last time,” Kenneth said, looking east toward Yellowstone. “We must get as many supplies as we can because once we get moving, we can only stop to scrounge for gas or water.”
Standing in the doorway of the B&B, a pale Stacy asked, “Where are we going?”
It was the first time she’d been upright since she was shot and her new strength brought out a puff of fatherly bluster from Kenneth.
“What are ye doing out of bed, lass?” He demanded and moved to her side. Carrie was behind her, ready to grab an arm should she buckle or swoon and Kenneth smiled when he noticed her. “Ah,” he said and turned back toward the Jeep.
“It’s time to get to Long Valley,” he said. “It’s time.”
“Was that an earthquake?” Stacy asked.
“Aye and that’s why we’ve got to get going. It’s beginning,” Kenneth said.
The next day, with Stacy holding more colour in her face and strength in her stride, we busied for our departure. Carrie and I were never more than 10 feet apart.
Hours passed like minutes and minutes like seconds. Our hands became sore and cramped because we only released our tight grips when necessary. I may not remember the first couple of days of our reunion, but the blissful memories of the days after carry me still – carved into my soul for eternity.
We feasted on the night of March 12. A prime rib roast, potatoes, spaghetti squash, Yorkshire pudding, chicken wings and an amazing apple pie that Stacy cobbled together from scratch.
Dinner passed in relative silence. I ate with my left hand; my right hand never left Carrie.
The only thing that brought about a cold reminder of our situation was when Kenneth said a short prayer before supper. Andy chortled, causing him to snap, “Don’t ye bloody start!”
We were clearing the dishes and washing them, a symbolic gesture as we could just as easily have thrown them out the back door, when the earthquake hit.
Serena, Madeline and Ridley were waiting for their simple meal of garlic, onion and canned black beans to cook when an explosion echoed to the east. The earth shuddered deafeningly for a minute as Madeline screamed, with Serena holding her and Ridley wrapping his arms around them.With his shoulders hunched and neck straining, he scanned the sky for signs of an eruption.
Once again, the nearby forest cracked and creaked as boulders were rattled from their places and sent bouncing down the side of the caldera.
The stench of rotten eggs filled their noses and Ridley swore the air temperature had risen at least 10 degrees (Fahrenheit) in a matter of seconds – even though it was about 7 p.m.
After about 10 violent, shaking minutes, the high country bowl became silent and a mist drifted over them – from the rush of stream from the nearby vents, which split open to twice the size they were before the quake.
“That bloody settles it for certain,” Kenneth announced when the shaking stopped.
I found myself marveling at the construction quality of the B&B. “Nothing like building with wood,” I said, looking around the living room and dining area. “Not a smidge of damage.” The small chandolier above the dining room table still swayed.
With an early start ahead, we all retired after dinner. Despite all we had been through, Carrie and I couldn’t sleep. We spent the long night as one; fused together – anticipating things we couldn’t imagine and afraid of the inevitable that Kenneth said was to come.
Ian Cobb/e-KNOW
