“False.” I flexed my jaw saying the word.
“It means not true.”
“I know what it means, Gerald.”
He squinted at me through the haze.
“Well, if you knew what it meant then we wouldn’t be in this situation, now would we?”
Squinting back defensively, I said, “The registration form was confusing, and part of it was in Icelandic.”
“Well I thought you might recognize the word ‘eldfjall’ as treacherous because it was, you know, bolded, underlined, marked in red, and given an asterisk explaining the bolding and underlining and reddening.”
I sniffed and stared down.
“I didn’t trap us on a ledge.”
Veins popped off his neck.
This smoke was unbearably clogging of the pores, I noted.
“Well I didn’t lose the guide on the descent.”
“He didn’t want us to go in the volcano we paid to see — I’m not going to go to a volcano and not—”
Gerald raised a glove shrouded hand.
“Mark. We’re trapped on a blackened ledge above a lava-y inferno sent straight from Hades. My radio’s broken and you don’t have one. Please, shut the fuck up.”