Free Eruption by Roland Smith Page A

of the Mountain.’”
    The last half mile of road had been steep. The small lake was above the tree line and fed by glaciers, which had now turned from white to gray. The village was on the opposite side of the lake. Looming behind it like a petrified tooth was the summit of Popocatepetl. A thick plume of gray ash and steam billowed from the peak into the darkening sky as far as Chase could see.
    Pepe scampered to the edge of the water and started drinking. Chase joined him. The surface was covered with fine ash and what looked like white floating rocks. He picked one up. It was porous and as light as a feather.
    â€œPumice stone,” he said.
    Pepe picked one up in his teeth and tossed it into the air.
    â€œKnock yourself out. It’s not poisonous.”
    Chase kneeled, cleared an area of ash and pumice, and scooped water into his mouth. He wasn’t aware of just howthirsty he was until the icy liquid hit the back of his throat. He put his head under water and came up gasping from the glacial chill.
    â€œWhoa!”
    Having his face clean made every other part of his body itch. He looked across the lake at the village. It had taken him so long to get this far, five minutes more couldn’t hurt. He quickly stripped off his clothes, tossed them into the water to soak, then dove in. He thought his heart would turn to ice. He lifted his head above the water. His teeth chattered. Pumice stones bobbed around him like an armada of toy ships. Pepe ran back and forth along the shore, barking.
    â€œCome on in! The water’s fine!”
    Pepe would have none of it. Chase stayed in as long as he could, which was less than three minutes. He waded back to shore, shivering. Facing the lake, he rinsed and wrung out his clothes as the air dried his skin. The wind had died down to almost nothing, which meant the ash was not blowing around as much, for which he was grateful. It meant he might be reasonably clean when he got to Lago. As he pulled on his underwear, he heard something behind him. He turned, expecting to see Pepe tossing more pumice around. Pepe was there, but he wasn’t tossing volcanic rock, and he wasn’t alone. He was sitting next to an old man and five children. Next to the old man was a wheelbarrow filled with sticks. The five children were carrying bundles of sticks in their arms and giggling. He didn’t blame them. A second earlier, they had been staring at his shivering butt. He would have laughed too.
    He quickly pulled on the rest of his clothes.
    When he was dressed, the old man said something to him, which Chase didn’t understand.
    â€œ No hablo español. ¿Hablas inglés? ”
    The old man shook his head.
    Chase pointed at the village. “Lago de la Montaña?”
    The old man nodded.
    That was just about the extent of Chase’s Spanish. He thought about mentioning Tomás’s name, but realized he didn’t know Tomás’s last name.
    I’ve known Tomás my entire life. How could I not know his last name? He looked at the five children. He did know what Tomás’s children looked like, though, and none of them were here with the old man.
    Why are children out gathering wood?
    He would have to see why when he got to Lago because he didn’t know how to ask.
    Â 
    Tomás eased around the curve, then stepped on the gas. He didn’t see the dog crates until they were bouncing off the windshield. He slammed on the brakes.
    â€œWhat was that?” Cindy shouted.
    Tomás shook his head.
    They got out. The man in the truck bed moaned. Tomás checked on him before coming around to the front of the truck, where Cindy was pulling something out from under the bumper.
    â€œDog crates. Obviously from the circus, but why did they leave them in the middle of the road? And where are the dogs?”
    Tomás squatted down and looked at the ground in front of the truck.
    â€œWhat do you see?”
    â€œFootprints.”
    They