Caldera

by Larry LaVoie

  He turned. She pointed in a direction to the left. “The trail head is over there.”

  “I knew that,” Jason said turning in the direction she pointed. “Let’s go.”

  The snow was deep in the shadows, but bare in other areas. Steam rose in spots and drifted along the ground giving the low areas the appearance of a Scottish moor, only with lots of trees.

  “Did you feel something?” Carlene asked nervously. The memory of the avalanche was still fresh in her mind. She stared up the slope half expecting to see a wall of snow descending on them.

  “I felt it,” Jason said. “Let’s get this done.”

  They trudged through a patch of snow into a grove of pine. Once they were in the trees the trail was clear, angling steeply upwards. The ground was wet and muddy in places. Small streams of runoff crossed the trail.

  “Not much farther, “Carlene said.

  “You’ve done this before. I’m impressed,” Jason said.

  “Look, the antenna is broken,” Carlene moved out ahead of Jason. “Give me a level.”

  Jason removed a level from his backpack. Carlene picked up some debris. There was no snow on the ground. “Feel this,” she said taking his hand. She pressed it on the grass.

  “Warm,” Jason said. He started digging away the fill over the concrete slab. Tilt meters were placed two feet underground and set perfectly level. They were set to indicate ground movement in any direction and convert the degree of tilt to digital signals, which in turn were beamed to satellites in geo-synchronized orbit. In addition to the tilt angle, the GPS measured the rise and fall of the earth. When he reached the slab he cleaned off an area with his hands. “She’s all yours,” Jason said.

  Carlene placed the level on the slab and measured the angle in degrees. She looked up her eyes showing concern. “I think the data is correct. This is ten degrees off level.” Things were changing so rapidly, Yellowstone seemed like a different place than the one Bainbridge had introduced her to.

  “You want to take a ride around the park with me?” Jason asked.

  “A sightseeing tour?”

  “You could call it that. It’s been seven years since I’ve been here.”

  “What about the ground movement?”

  “Can’t do anything about that.”

  They trekked back along the trail. He watched the sun rise above the trees and the expanse of the area was overwhelming. He stopped at the edge of a snow drift and took in a deep breath. “This is the most beautiful spot in the world,” he said sadly.

  “You sound depressed.”

  “Look at that bull elk. As soon as he senses all clear, his harem will follow. I wonder if they know this place is not going to be the same.”

  “Bainbridge said Yellowstone has done this before.”

  “Not in our lifetime,” Jason said. The ground below them was steaming and the herd disappeared behind a ground-hugging fog bank. Jason stared silently.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Jason sighed. “This will all be gone.”

  “Pardon?”

  “When the mountain blows this will be a thirty-mile-wide crater. None of this will exist. But the saddest thing is there won’t be anyone around to enjoy it anyway.”

  “You’re scaring the hell out of me,” Carlene said.

  Chapter 14

  USGS Headquarters, Menlo Park, California

  Every time he heard the phone ring Sandy Sanders felt a twinge of fear. He wanted so much to call the police, but didn’t dare. As long as he did what the kidnappers demanded, his wife and daughter would be safe, he hoped. This time he sat in his office and stared at the ringing phone. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. Was it them again? He slowly picked up.

  “Sandy, what’s going on over there?”

  “Who is this?” Sanders demanded.

  “Ted Raymond. Thought you’d recognize my voice.”

  “Ted. You still in Hawaii? I thought you were dead.”

  “Wait, let me pinch myself. Yep. I’m still alive.”

  “What can I do for you?” Sanders asked. “I’m expecting another call.”

  “I’ve been watching the activity at Yellowstone. It must have you worried.”

  Sanders tensed up. “Nothing out of the ordinary. She’s venting a little.”

  “I guess so. Thought I’d offer my help if you need some support.”

  “Support. What for?”

  “You know. In case you want to close the park. I know how obstinate the government can be.”

  “Thanks. I’ll take it under consideration. I’ve got to go.” Sanders hung up, shook a cigarette out of a pack and lit it with a shaky hand.

  Yellowstone Park

  The lights glowed orange then white as the power returned to the monitoring cabin at The Lake. Jason hooked up Bainbridge’s laptop as Carlene booted up the other computers. They were back on line, the seismic and ground movement devices were functioning again.

  Carlene leaned back in her chair surrounded on three sides by computers that monitored a network of twenty-two seismographs stationed throughout the park. The information was digitized, recorded, and sent via satellite and ground lines to the University of Utah where it was uploaded to the Internet. She logged onto the USGS site to retrieve the data from the quake that morning. It was an efficient system. If things got too hot in the caldera, the system could be monitored over the Internet from anyplace in the world.

  At that moment Jason wasn’t interested in any information except for what was in the laptop hard drive. It had the original readings Bainbridge had used to predict the eruption, and Jason needed that information to determine if his old professor had miscalculated. It has to be an error, he thought as he opened the file. What he found were columns of numbers that were meaningless to him. Thousands of readings were plotted in tables and graphed showing the earth’s mantle to a depth of three miles. The deeper readings were marked with an asterisk. Jason read aloud the footnote at the bottom of the page. “Estimated rupture strength, no adjustment for temperature.”

  Carlene glanced at him. “You say something?”

  “There’s a lot of guesswork in Bainbridge’s analysis. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  Carlene came over and tilted the screen back to get a better look. She furrowed her brow. “As the shock waves from seismic activity travel through the magma pools they slow down. That’s how we calculated the size of the pool.”

  Jason stared at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I’m talking about this area up north. Bainbridge is showing a magma pool that doesn’t exist.”

  “That’s an anomaly that started showing up earlier this year. The area has had rapid ground swelling.” She went back to her computer. “You may want to look at this.” She tapped her keyboard a few times and brought up a new screen. “The last two earthquakes were centered about three miles deep directly under that magma pool that doesn’t exist.”

  “You think its magma?”

  “Bainbridge wasn’t sure. He was interested in the way the shock waves traveled through the area. By the resonance he thought he might be able to predict rupture strength of the ground. Far as I know it was just an exercise.”

  “He put a lot of faith in the strength data, according to this chart.”

  “You asked me about magma,” Carlene said. “The gas levels are too low. A lot of carbon dioxide, but very little sulfur dioxide. And the shock waves traveling through the pool show it to be lower density than magma. My guess it’s water.”

  “You have to give Bainbridge credit. If he’s right, there’s a new system developing up there.”

  Carlene shrugged. “There’s been a lot of activity in that area in the past. At least thirty separate rhyolite lava flows in the area. The Hebgan Lake quake in fifty-nine was in that area.”

  Jason shook his head. “Hebgan Lake was outside of the park. This is on the northwest edge of the caldera, closer to Norris Basin.”

  “Let
me see that.” Carlene went over to the computer model on the laptop again.

  Jason turned the screen toward her. “Bainbridge must have thought there was something significant going on in the area. Did he mention anything to you? A theory?”

  “The ground temperature has risen steadily. Some places are too hot to walk so the area has been off limits to tourists. Bainbridge was working with a geologist at the University of Idaho who was taking core samples. He might know what Bainbridge was thinking.” Carlene rummaged through a card file. “I’ve got the name somewhere.” She pulled out a card and read, “Professor Mullen, School of Mines, University of Idaho.” She handed him the card.

  “I had him for a class once,” Jason said punching the number into the phone. He knew Mullen from a course he’d taken the summer of his sophomore year in college. Mullen specialized in the breaking strength of rock, modulus of rupture. He had collected the MOR on every kind of rock you could think of. At the time he had thought it was pretty boring stuff.

  The phone began to ring. He pictured the professor those many years ago, lecturing from a podium, his thinning white hair, high forehead and triangular face. Large dark eyes behind oval glasses. It had been rumored the professor was an alien. Jason chuckled. He had borrowed Mullen’s textbook once and found the professor’s stale jokes written in the margins of the pages. The class didn’t laugh at the jokes, but Mullen did.

  Jason had dated Jeannie Mullen before learning she was the professor’s daughter. She was a bright, pretty girl. As stupid as he had been back then, he’d been smart enough to drop Jeannie Mullen from his dating list before it became serious. He couldn’t imagine Professor Mullen as a father-in-law. The phone stopped ringing.

  “Professor Mullen? Jason Trask here.”

  They exchanged small talk and Jason got to the point. “Do you have any idea what Bainbridge was looking for when he had you take core samples from the northwest corner of Yellowstone caldera.

  “Ha,” the professor said. “I knew that information would be useful. I’ve been trying to get back with Milton but he doesn’t answer his e-mail. You’re the second person to ask for that data in the last couple of days. By the way do you know what they call a geologist who plays a guitar?”

  Jason rolled his eyes back. This was a necessary evil if you wanted to talk to the professor. “No, what do they call him?”

  “A rock star,” Mullen said, laughing.

  “Dr. Bainbridge passed away a few weeks ago,” Jason said.

  “Oh my. He seemed a might worried the last time we spoke. Was his health bad?”

  Jason filled him in on the details before pressing the question again.

  “I was testing a new type of core drilling machine developed for the oil companies. Built out of nickel base super alloys to withstand high temperatures. Milton wanted samples from a mile down.”

  “What’d you find?”

  “I don’t know what he was going to do with the data. I just drilled the hole and took out the core samples and gave him MOR data. They’re still here if you want some more information? Got a group of summer students that could use the work.”

  “You said someone else asked about the core samples?”

  “Private citizen. Wanted to know everything Milton was doing.”

  “And you told him?”

  “Same thing I told you. Public information as far as I know. He didn’t want the data. Said it was useless.”

  “Thanks,” Jason said.

  “What was it?” Carlene asked.

  “Bainbridge knew something was going on under that part of the mountain. He didn’t know what Bainbridge was going to do with the data. Most interesting. A private citizen was asking for the data. Have you seen anyone nosing around?”

  Carlene shook her head. “There are a lot of private citizens around this park every day.”

  Jason was staring off into space. “If you’re right about that anomaly being gas and water then it’ll be the largest hydro-thermal explosion in history if it blows.”

  The phone rang. Carlene picked up. She put her hand over the receiver. “It’s Greg Bainbridge for you.” Jason took the phone. “Greg, I tried to call you.”

  “I’m standing outside my father’s house, or should I say what’s left of it. The police say you know what happened.”

  “We were able to save the car,” Jason said meekly.

  “I noticed. You mind telling me what happened?”

  Jason told him about the mysterious gray car and the explosion. “We were about to go inside when it blew.”

  “Do you still have the car keys?”

  “Check under the fender, passenger side. I found one of those magnetized key holders in the glove box and thought that would be safe.”

  There was a pause. “Okay, I’ve got them. You got any idea what’s going on?”

  “Only that someone didn’t want us going through his papers. When we first got there the hard drive had been removed from his computer. We think we interrupted them.”

  “Doesn’t make sense. My father was just a volcanologist. What value would his records be?”

  “That’s the big question. We did manage to get his laptop. It was in the hands of the federal government.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “He left it on an airplane. They mailed it to him. We picked it up from the post office.”

  “I read the police report,” Greg said. “They think it was arson.”

  “Greg, it looked like the FBI to us. Don’t ask me what, but your father was in the middle of something.”

  “Doesn’t make any sense, but I’ll nose around. If I find out anything I’ll call you.”

  “Greg, I’m sorry about the house. I had no idea ...”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure he had insurance. All I’ve got to do is find the policy. Saves me the trouble of selling it. Market’s been down around here lately.”

  Jason hung up. “He’s taking this pretty well.”

  “Really? We’ll be lucky if we don’t get sued.”

  The air was chilly as Jason drove the rental Jeep two and a half miles from the monitoring cabin to the employees camping area. The activity in the park had picked up since he and Carlene had returned. He wondered how the government would handle a request to evacuate the park. Though Bainbridge had tried that approach already there was more data now. The heavy traffic from visitors in the park told him the government would be a hard sell. Without irrefutable data Peter Frank wasn’t going to do anything. He mulled over the conversation he’d had with Sanders. He should be showing up any time. Maybe if he showed him the data he and Carlene had been taking it would convince him to go to at least a Level Two.

  He slowed for a family walking down the center of the road. They were taking up the entire road, a human roadblock, father, mother and three kids. I guess they think they own the park. They were oblivious to his presence as he approached. Did he dare honk? He decided against it and shifted into a lower gear providing some engine noise. Dad turned around and gave Jason a dirty look.

  “Can’t you see there are kids here?” the man shouted as Jason tried to squeeze past.

  Don’t you know Yellowstone is going to blow up? Jason wanted to shout back. Keep your cool, he reminded himself. He’d seen mountains with more seismic activity than Yellowstone go back to sleep. He knew Yellowstone had threatened to wake up before and fallen back to sleep. In fact the time he’d spent with Bainbridge in Yellowstone had been one of those regressive periods. The dome at Mallard Lake had actually receded 20 millimeters over a ten-year period back then. He prayed that would happen again. No sense getting excited, yet. She’s done this before, she’ll do it again.

  He pulled into a parking spot next to his nylon tent. It was basic living in the extreme, but it beat sharing a room with summer help in the dorms. He fetched his laptop from beneath his sleeping bag. Back at the cabin he could link up with his home computer in Portland and download information he had not looked at
in over ten years. If Bainbridge was right, the information Jason had stored in his home computer might be of value.

  Chapter 15

  Jason’s dislike for Sanders went back fifteen years to when he was a student volunteer during a summer at Yellowstone. He’d been invited to work with the scientists, setting new GPS monitoring equipment inside the ancient caldera. Sanders was the supervising geologist at the time and immediately Jason and Sanders had come to a disagreement over the interpretation of data from one of the monitoring sites.

  Jason had set the equipment to the specified azimuth and compass heading for the satellites to communicate with the stations. The antennas sent data on horizontal and vertical ground motions to the satellites and they in turn gave the position of the ground under the stations. After two weeks of hiking in far off areas of the park, fighting off mosquitoes as big as buzzards, far away from the comforts of home, packing in everything from sensors to antennas on his back, Jason had been invited to review the results of his sweat and blood. The test had been a failure and Jason was blamed by Sanders for the lack of precision in his work. Later it was determined a sudden ground movement had occurred overnight causing the antennas to malfunction. Sanders never apologized to Jason and Jason never forgot the humiliation he’d felt being publicly reprimanded in front of the scientists he respected. Had he not been hired before Sanders took over the department, Jason was sure he wouldn’t be working for USGS today.

  Jason glanced over at Carlene as they pulled to a stop behind park headquarters. “Looks like we kept Sanders waiting,” he said seeing the man.

  Sanders, in his fifties looked to be burning off nervous energy. As he walked back and forth behind Yellowstone Park headquarters he fanned his stubby arms as if stretching. He was a short man, but made up for his lack of height in bulk. At five-foot-six Sanders tipped the scales at two-hundred-eighty pounds, all of it as solid as a redwood stump. He was dressed in a tan overcoat and a matching canvas hat with a small brim turned down in front. He’d been head of the USGS Western office for three years. Yellowstone Volcano Observatory was under his direction.