Free The Devil's Cauldron by Michael Wallace Page A

overhead. A wide, sagebrush-strewn plain stretched thirty or forty miles to the west, unbroken by any towns or other signs of human civilization. A second, smaller range lifted its dry, brown shoulders above the valley floor on the opposite side. No clouds, no pollution, just a view that stretched forever. A single contrail split the blue dome like a smear of white frosting.
    “The thing is,” Meggie began, worried he would protest. “I don’t think you’re fit to rappel into the cave. Sorry, that’s the way I see it.”
    Duperre looked disgusted. “No, I can’t go down. HalfOrc, either.”
    “Not your fault. We’ll scrub the descent.”
    “Damn it!”
    “No way,” Kaitlyn said from where she was standing with Benjamin in front of the bumper. She came around and he followed. “It’s totally not your fault,” she said to Duperre, “and I’m not blaming you for anything, but we came a long way to explore that cave.”
    Duperre lifted his head from the pack and squinted at her. “Yeah, I know.”
    “You’ve got everything you need right here,” Kaitlyn said. “Including a second GPS. We’ll hike up to the cave. It’ll take a bit to get set up. If you guys feel better in the next half-hour or so, come find us. Otherwise, we’ll be back tonight.”
    “That’s fair enough,” Duperre said. “We can be sick here just as easily as back at the motel.”
    HalfOrc made puking sounds from the bushes, followed by another string of expletives.
    “The trip plan has five people,” Meggie protested.
    Kaitlyn shrugged. “We already amended the plan once. We can do it again.”
    “That was different,” Meggie said. “That was adding a person, figuring out the logistics. This is a question of safety.”
    “Three people can make a safe descent,” Duperre said. “If there’s an experienced trip leader.”
    “I’m experienced,” Kaitlyn said. “I’ve done twenty-seven descents, led six times.”
    “We’ll stay behind and serve duty as surface watch,” Duperre said.
    Meggie didn’t like it. “Three people is the minimum. We’re out in the middle of nowhere. It’s desert. There’s a hike, there might be rattlesnakes.”  
    “Stop worrying,” Kaitlyn said. She put her hands on her hips with an impatient look. “These two will be waiting at the truck if anything goes wrong.”
    “They’re sick, they’re in no shape to—”
    “They’ll be fine in a couple of hours, I’m sure,” Kaitlyn said.
    “Oh, really? And how do you know that?”
    Kaitlyn’s face darkened. “What is that supposed to mean? You think I had something to do with this?”
    “I don’t know, did you?”
    “Come on, Meggie,” Benjamin said. “That’s not fair.”
    “I’m sure she didn’t,” Duperre said. “It was that crappy diner food.”
    “Whatever, I don’t like it. Come on, Duperre. Help me out here. She wasn’t even a part of the plans twelve hours ago, and now she’s the trip leader?”
The older man looked uncertain. He also looked like he was working up to puke again and was in no shape to make this kind of decision. He glanced at Benjamin as he lifted himself and shifted to the edge of the truck.
    “Your call, man,” Duperre said. “You’re the tie breaker.”
    No, don’t put it in his hands.
    Duperre leaned over the edge and barfed up a little. Then he was wracked with several rounds of dry heaves, before he finally eased back down with a groan.
    “We’ll do it tomorrow,” Meggie told Benjamin. “We had a buffer day in case the weather turned crappy or something.”
    He frowned. “That would have us driving half the night to Vegas so we could catch our flight on Sunday morning.”
    Kaitlyn put her hand on his arm. “And I don’t even have that option. I’ve got to go back tomorrow.”
    “You do?” he asked. “You never said that. I don’t know. Maybe Meggie is right. Sometimes you have to cancel. It’s not the end of the world.”
    “You know you’ll be sorry if we don’t give