The Eruption

by E S Richards

  Preparing to run over to the wreckage, Mia felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning around, Jorge was there, a questioning expression on his face. Mia could tell what he was thinking. Was it really a good idea for her to go running towards the chopper? What if it did explode and she lost her life? Considering it for just a brief moment, Mia refused to entertain the thought. There were people in that helicopter who needed her help and so did everyone else. Jorge would have to sit this one out alone if that was how he felt.

  Grabbing an abandoned jacket as she ran toward the helicopter, Mia held it up over her mouth to filter her breathing somewhat. When she reached the vehicle, she saw up close how badly damaged it was. The whole metal structure was caved in from the impact, the body of the chopper completely destroyed. She could just about make out some words printed on the side though, tilting her head at an angle to read them. Montana National News. So that was why the helicopter had been in the sky. It was a news team or television crew, desperate to document the eruption themselves. An act that was both incredibly brave and incredibly foolish.

  “There’s someone alive inside!” A male voice beside Mia pulled her attention from reviewing the helicopter to the three men braving the scene outside the airport and coming to help. To Mia’s surprise, Jorge was one of them. She smiled at her companion, grateful that he had changed his mind.

  Wiping the jacket she carried against the chopper’s window, Mia peered in. She could see four bodies inside: two pilots and two crew members in the back. A fifth person had survived though. A young woman banged violently against the door, desperately trying to open it. Mia locked eyes with her, the panic and fear coursing through the woman impossible to miss.

  “Stay calm!” Mia shouted, still maintaining eye contact with the woman. “We’re going to get you out of there!”

  “What do we do?” One of the men asked, looking around for some sort of solution. “Can we smash the glass?”

  “No,” Jorge answered quickly. “It’s too thick—and we can’t risk hurting them. We need to leverage the door open somehow.”

  “Okay,” the man replied with a nod. “How?”

  “Is there anything we can get in that gap?” Jorge questioned, pointing to the tiny gap that was present around the seal of the door. He knew how helicopters were designed and was sure that if they could apply just the right amount of pressure on the door in the right place, they could get it open.

  “The handle of my father’s cane might fit in there,” the second man who had come to help suggested after a second. “Wait here!”

  “Hang on!” Mia shouted through the glass door to the trapped woman again. “We’re going to try and get the door open.”

  Waiting for the man to return, there was very little else Mia, Jorge, and the third guy could do. The helicopter was still smoking, despite them dropping several blankets on the source of it. Mia didn’t like the look of it, but they didn’t have a fire crew on hand to try and resolve it. All they could do was try and free the woman who was inside and get as far away from the chopper as possible. The ash cloud still hung dangerously above them, mixed in with dark clouds that made the sky appear even more ominous. They might have technically been out of the kill zone, but Mia still felt like her life was on the line.

  “Here! Will this work? It’s titanium—should be strong enough.”

  Jorge immediately had the cane in his hands, inspecting the end of it. Mia could see that the entire thing was one piece of metal and shaped so it grew thinner and thinner on the end. It was almost perfectly made for the job—she was sure it would work.

  “It should,” Jorge nodded. “Mia, tell her to push from the inside.”

  Mia nodded and once again turned back to the panicked woman inside the helicopter. “We need you to push against the door!” she yelled, pausing until the woman nodded to signify that she’d understood. “On three!”

  Mia stepped back and let Jorge take her place in front of the door, wedging the man’s cane into the gap and making sure it was secure. He then turned his head to look back at Mia and gave her a nod, indicating that he was ready.

  “Okay,” Mia called. “Ready. One…two…three!”

  She held her breath as Jorge pushed on the cane, willing the door to open. After a few seconds he stopped, panting and bending over to breathe.

  “It’s too heavy,” he huffed. “I need help.”

  Immediately the two other men stepped forward, positioning themselves behind Jorge so they could help him leverage the door. Again, Mia could only count them down and wait. This time, though, it looked like something was working. The door shook slightly under the pressure, the combined weight of four bodies pressing down on it.

  “Come on!” Mia encouraged positively, her fingers involuntarily curling into a fist with enthusiasm. “It’s almost there!”

  With a loud clang, the door to the helicopter popped open, the men losing their balance and stumbling for a moment as the cane gave way. Mia rushed forward, her hand over her mouth as she watched the door continue to open, the woman now pushing it from the inside. Then, a matter of seconds later, the woman finally staggered out, her body freed from its metal coffin.

  Chapter 8

  “Get out of my way!”

  Blake pushed past a mother and her child, an animalistic need to survive taking over. He’d just seen the news reports and, like hundreds of other people, he was desperate to gather enough supplies to survive what was to come. Yellowstone volcano had erupted. It sounded ridiculous in his head. Completely and utterly ridiculous. But it had happened. The report he’d seen had been brief, but it had been enough to encourage him and everyone else to leave their homes and rush to the nearest store. Blake didn’t even know what he wanted to buy; he just knew he needed supplies.

  He jogged down the sidewalk, heading straight to the nearest Walmart. Cars had pulled over haphazardly in the middle of the road as people had heard the news on the radio, everyone having the same idea. It meant the street was cluttered and Blake had to fight tooth and nail to keep going. Already he’d passed people who had been thrown to the ground, their lips or noses bleeding as they’d smacked into the asphalt. It was worse than Black Friday—something Blake didn’t think he’d ever experience.

  Other people stood in groups and cried or comforted each other. The tourists visiting the city looked the most panicked, none of them having anywhere in particular to go except the lonely hotel rooms they’d rented for the weekend. Blake was glad he wasn’t in that situation. His apartment wasn’t much, but he could easily hunker down there for a few weeks and wait for all of this to pass. He just needed to get it stocked first.

  With Walmart finally in his sights at the end of the road, Blake picked up his pace. The mass of people was even denser now, everyone desperately trying to get to the store. He felt a pair of hands shove him in his back as he side-stepped a lamppost and spun around. There were so many people behind him that Blake couldn’t see who had pushed him. He turned back, only to receive another shove in his side. He hated being pushed around and he could feel his anger growing inside him. Now wasn’t the time to blow his lid. He just needed to get inside and get what he needed.

  Giving up on his manners completely, Blake pushed back. He was well over six feet tall and padded out with years of carefully defined muscle. His face was plain and uninteresting, the kind you could pass in the street a hundred times and still not recognize; that was why Blake focused so much on his body. That and his job. He was a stunt man. A profession that made him well equipped for weaving through crowded streets and avoiding groups of aggressive people. He channeled that part of himself now, broadening his frame and picking up his pace as he made his way to the entrance.

  Nearly throwing a man twice his age to one side, Blake finally made it inside. It was chaos. Worse than he had imagined. Security guards struggled to keep the peace, people pushing past them and running out of the store after refusing to pay. This wasn’t shopping for supplies anymore, this was lootin
g. Half of the staff had actually joined the looters already, quickly realizing that there was no way they could control it and wanting to do what they could to survive themselves.

  Blake stood frozen for a second. A volcano had erupted. But what did that mean? He racked his brain trying to remember what the news report had said. Stay indoors. Yeah, right. That was one thing that he never understood the point of saying—telling people to stay indoors just made them want to go outside more. Plus, how could those two words control a country when they followed the biggest natural disaster of their lifetime?

  What else? Crops and water resources could become contaminated. Okay. That was something he could go off at least. Pushing past more people, he tried to make his way to aisle three, where he knew the dried goods were kept. Every minute he was in the store, about fifty more people fought their way through the doors. He was getting thrown around like a child’s toy and that was something he didn’t like. Standing a good few inches above everyone else, Blake himself was mostly ignored, but he could see other people being targeted around him. Groups of men were cornering people and taking their items from them. Teenagers were making their way to the dangerous weapons. The potential for things to get deadly was increasing second by second.

  Blake had to get out of there. Something bad was about to happen. He could feel it. Supplies or not, Walmart was not the place for him to be. What had he been thinking? He needed to get to smaller stores. Even places like Dick’s would be too busy by now. He had to think smaller. Corner stores and pawn shops—they were his best guess. But getting out of Walmart was easier said than done.

  He was moving against the crowd, desperately trying to exit the store while hundreds of people still wanted to get in. It made taking even a few steps feel like he was walking through butter. But Blake could see things were about to go south. Fights were breaking out over the smallest things, Blake only narrowly avoiding a fist on more than one occasion himself. He didn’t want to resort to violence, but his chance of staying out of it all was quickly slipping through his fingers.

  Then the worst happened. A gunshot cracked into the ceiling and the whole place erupted into pandemonium. It was easy for Blake to see who had fired the gun. One of the security guards. Everyone else had noticed him too and they scrambled to get away from him, pushing and shoving in all directions and creating even more of a panic inside the store. This wasn’t good. Blake felt a large shove in his back and nearly fell to the ground, the overcrowded store being pushed and pulled in all directions as the people feared for their lives. Then the man fired again. And again. And again. In an instant the panic stilled to a silence, those who tried to run held still by the force of the group.

  Blake faced the security guard and waited to see what he was going to do next. Either he was going to try and restore order, or he wanted to claim the best supplies for himself. As the man’s face curled into an evil smile, Blake knew it was the latter. Now he had to get out. The issue was, his tall frame wasn’t one that could easily slide under the radar. As a result, Blake remained frozen in place, too scared to move in case the man with a gun saw him as a threat and pointed the weapon at him.

  “Move,” the security guard said in a low voice to the people standing directly in front of him, bits of plaster still floating down from the ceiling around him. “And give me that bag.”

  Blake watched in silence as the couple who just happened to be in completely the wrong place at the wrong time handed over their gear. The quiet that the gunshot had created was already starting to fade, more people from outside trying to get into Walmart before everything was looted. There was still an empty space around the security guard, but how long would that last? Blake tried to make himself appear smaller and took a step to one side, edging himself closer to the exit.

  At his movement, the guard swung around, noticing it in his peripheral vision but not to the point where he could tell it was Blake who had stirred. He froze again, praying that he hadn’t just made a move that would cost him his life. The desperation of others saved him though. With the guard’s attention focused elsewhere, someone darted up to him and grabbed the bag he’d just taken from the couple then disappeared back into the crowd. It happened in such a flash that it was impossible to tell who had done it—then the whole room started moving again. The pushing and shoving picked up again and Blake was given his chance. Without looking back he forced his body forward, using his strength to forge a path through the people that led right to the exit. He threw a couple of necessary punches at people when he reached the door and after a tense couple of minutes, finally stepped outside to take a deep breath of fresh air.

  That had been a mistake.

  Catching this breath, Blake put his hands on the back of his head and looked around. He couldn’t believe it. He’d thought being in Walmart itself was bad, but the whole city was exactly the same. People ran through the streets like maniacs, pillaging and looting stores with absolutely no regard for the law or other people. Even those in positions of power were doing it. The security guard inside was just the start. Policemen were fighting with one another in front of Blake’s eyes. Half of them wanted to abide by the law and continue to do their jobs, while the other half followed the bad example—wanting only to look out for themselves. It went against everything Blake had thought he’d known. He didn’t know what to do or where to go. It was like he was already too late.

  Turning away from the sight in front of his eyes, he jogged down a street that he knew led back to his apartment. There was a little store on the corner near where he lived that hopefully would’ve been overlooked enough by looters for him to go in and get something. Anything. What else had the news report said? It felt like hours had passed since he’d seen it, the words blurring together and sounding fuzzy in his head.

  Stay indoors. Crops and water resources could become contaminated. Avoid breathing in the ash. Avoid traveling long distances. Stay indoors. Stay warm. Stay safe.

  The words didn’t make sense to him. A part of his brain made Blake feel like he was making it up to an extent. Was he remembering it correctly or was he just finishing the sentences with what he thought they should say? Why would they be told to stay warm? Surely if a volcano had exploded, hot lava would be shooting up into the sky. That would heat things up, not cool things down.

  Shaking his head, Blake realized he knew absolutely nothing about what was about to happen. He was moving blind and he had to put a stop to that as quickly as possible. At least he could start with food and water. He could stay inside for a few days, watch the news and see what happened next. Something would be revealed soon—he was sure of it. They couldn’t just drop a bomb like this and then expect everyone to follow the rules and carry on living like normal. Could they?

  Sidestepping around a group of men who were running toward him, Blake narrowly avoided smacking into the side of a building. He turned back to watch the people and shouted curse words at them, his temper rising to a boiling point. If he wasn’t careful, Blake knew he would erupt as well. He had a ferocious temper—one that had lost him more than a handful of jobs over the years. It was precisely high pressure and unexpected scenarios like this that he didn’t like. In his job he was under pressure constantly, but it was pressure he could prepare for and anticipate. Out in the real world, Blake didn’t like the way that things could unfold.

  He recognized the places around him easily now. There were only a couple of blocks left until his apartment and—due to the poorer nature of this part of the city—there were considerably fewer people around. Blake hoped that this would work in his favor and he would be able to get what he needed from the corner shop.

  If he was lucky, Vic, the old man who owned it, might have a few extra supplies in the back he could barter for as well. Blake knew exactly the kind of back street dealings that went on in that store. He didn’t care for them himself so had never got involved, but that didn’t mean he didn’t keep up to date with the items that could be bought there. He
saw enough people going in and out every day to understand it was still in business—if he got lucky, he might be able to get everything he needed from there now that he thought about it.

  Jogging the final few hundred feet before the turning, Blake held his heart in his throat as he closed down the distance. His head was spinning out of control with possibilities for what was going to happen over the next few days. He wished he’d watched the news report for longer to understand their situation more. He’d been out of the door almost as soon as the words “stay indoors” had left the news anchor’s mouth.

  What an idiot he’d been. Perhaps Vic could supply him with information too. He’d always been friendly with the old man, buying his staples from him every week instead of the new superstore that had opened a couple of blocks away. Hopefully that would be enough. With his apartment and the corner finally in his sights, Blake knew it was time to make or break this disaster.

  Chapter 9

  “Okay,” Chase spoke after downing the contents of his coffee cup. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

  The four family members were seated around the kitchen table once more. A quick breakfast of cereal and coffee had been had by all except Riley, who was still too young to have developed a taste for the dark stuff. It was early. Just before 6:00 a.m. The sun hadn’t even attempted to break through the clouds outside, though Chase was uncertain whether it could. He’d been up at this time of the morning on plenty of occasions for lacrosse practice before, but he’d never seen the sky as dark as it was now. It scared him, though he wouldn’t admit it out loud. The pressure of looking after everyone was something that had only grown heavier overnight for the sixteen-year-old.

  “You fixed up the generator last night, right?” Grandma Linda asked, pushing herself to her feet and starting to gather up the mugs and bowls from the table. She worked on autopilot at this time of the morning, not often putting much thought into her tasks until the clock was a bit later in the day.