Winter Fall

by Byron Tucker

Moments after Sam's stomach growled from not having anything to eat in so long, Jimmy called out from the back. “So when are you going to stop so we can have some lunch?”

  “You guys got a table back there. Have your lunch now.”

  “But Mom says you need to eat, too.”

  Having the desire to at least be out of Montana before stopping, he said, “When we hit North Dakota, we'll stop, okay?”

  “How far is that?” Eliza queried.

  He looked ahead a bit and saw a sign denoting the town of Glendive, the last town in Montana. “It won't be long now, fifteen or twenty minutes.”

  “Cool,” Eliza and Jimmy said in almost perfect unison.

  A few moments later, Jimmy came up and sat in the passenger seat. “So, should we call Uncle Ryan to let him know where we are?”

  Sam shook his head. “No, wait until he calls us, because he's just going to complain that we're not going fast enough.”

  Jimmy took a moment to gaze at the passing scenery, dun-colored prairie stretching out to a distant horizon. “But we're so far from Yellowstone now, we gotta be pretty safe, huh? We're, what, three hundred miles away now?”

  “About that, yes.” Just then, the welcome sign to North Dakota appeared, and Jimmy shouted, “Hey, we're in North Dakota!”

  Cheers filled the interior of the motorhome, and seconds later, Sam spotted the sign for an upcoming rest area. The so-called “Welcome Center” didn't look like much, but it would suffice. He gleefully pulled into it, grateful to have a break from endless hours of driving.

  They stepped out of the motorhome into the bright, harsh sunlight, accompanied by a hot wind gusting from nearby farm fields, Sam soon realized theirs was the only vehicle parked in the rest area, and the “Welcome Center” was just a unmanned restroom facility with a few vending machines along with a faded map of North Dakota behind a scratched-up acrylic panel. However, he could see a lone picnic table a short distance away that looked serviceable, and sure enough, he spotted his wife carrying a tablecloth and an oversized basket over to it, getting things set up with practiced efficiency.

  He had a need to use the men's room, and once he was done, he decided to get sodas for the kids, just as a treat for them. He struggled to get the machine to accept his crumpled one-dollar bills, but was eventually able to extract a Sprite for Eliza and a Dr Pepper for Jimmy, their faves. And what the hell, I'll get me a Coke for myself. He used his leftover quarters for that, and once the plastic bottle clunked into the chute, he picked it up and headed over to the picnic table, where the kids chomped down on freshly-made sandwiches even as their mother continued to set out additional food for them.

  “Here you go, guys. Sodas for each of us.”

  Irene frowned as he passed the bottles to the kids, but when she saw the delighted smiles on the children's faces, she relented, probably realizing the kids having a bit of sugar wasn't the end of the world. He took a seat across from the children, and Irene dished him out a paper plate containing a sandwich of cold cuts and sliced cheese, slaw and sliced apple. He ate greedily, and Irene fixed an additional sandwich as soon as he finished the first one.

  When he had eaten the last of his second sandwich, the Coke causing him to burp repeatedly, Sam noticed Jimmy standing up and looking at the horizon ahead of him with a jaw-dropping stare. Stuffing the last bit of sandwich in his mouth, he said, “What's the matter, Jimmy? Finally seeing some wildlife?”

  Jimmy pointed with his finger, his mouth forming words, but no sound coming out. Annoyed that his son wouldn't answer him, Sam swung his legs around and stood up so he could see in the direction of Jimmy's open-mouthed gaze.

  For the next few seconds, his mind struggled to process what he saw. Over the distant, nearly cloudless horizon, a gray mushroom cloud expanded into the sky at frightening speed. He raised his finger toward it as Irene and Eliza stood up to gawk at the sight as well.

  Irene spoke first. “Oh. My. God. Is that what I think it is?”

  Jimmy spoke next. “It's Yellowstone! It's going off just like Uncle Ryan said it would!”

  Just like Ryan said it would. It didn't take long for the logic center of his brain to put two and two together, resulting in a horrible, sinking feeling in his stomach, combined with a paralyzing terror. Although they stood an incredible three hundred miles away, the eruption of the Yellowstone Supervolcano appeared stupendously huge, growing more voluminous by the second. He could hear no sound, except for the wind whistling across the landscape. There was nothing to feel underfoot, either, no earthquakes or any kind of vibration to indicate the cataclysmic eruption in the distance.

  Turning to face his open-mouthed son, he said, “Why don't we feel anything yet?”

  “Sound,” Jimmy answered without looking at him. ”The shock wave moves at the speed of sound. At this distance, it'll probably take a half hour for it to be felt here.”

  Sam's chest tightened, his heart racing as he stared at his wife darting around the table getting it cleared. “Do you think we're far enough?”

  “We need to call Uncle Ryan ASAP,” he answered.

  Sam glanced over at the motorhome. ”You're right. Help your mom get this stuff packed, and I'll call him immediately.”

  He ran over to the vehicle and hopped up the steps, glad that he hadn't bothered to lock it up. Diving for the nearby console, he fumbled around for his phone and hit Ryan's number as quickly as he could. Listening to it ringing once, twice and three times, Sam looked out the windshield of the RV, and saw the multi-lobed plume billow higher into the sky, along with the addition of white streamers spreading away from it, like tracer fireworks. The ringing stopped, replaced by the sound of Ryan's recorded voice. “You have reached Ryan Durant. Please leave your name and number, and I will return your call as soon as reasonably possible.”

  Sam bit down hard in frustration. This was the worst possible time not to be able to get hold of his brother. When the beep finally sounded, he shouted, “Ryan, all hell's broken loose! Yellowstone's going off right now, and we can see it as plain as day, even though we're in North Dakota. We need to know if we should just keep going east or find someplace to shelter.”

  He set the phone down and rushed back outside. Irene and the kids had managed to scoop everything off the table in a single load, already making their way to the motorhome.

  “Did you get hold of Uncle Ryan?” Jimmy asked when they reached the door.

  Sam shook his head, shifting to the side to allow Eliza and Irene passage into the vehicle. “Voicemail. But I think we should blast east, don't you think?”

  “Yeah, but we need to get gas, don't we?”

  Ushering Jimmy inside, he pulled the door shut and raced to his seat, motioning for everybody to sit down. “Yes, there's a truck stop at the next exit ahead. We'll fill up there, and while I'm doing that, Irene, you can make a sweep of the food store and get what we might need.” He reached over and tossed the phone over to Jimmy sitting in the passenger seat. “You hold onto that for when he calls.” He turned the key and the motor roared to life. Reaching down to release the parking brake, he added, “Hold on guys.”

  Sam had barely enough time to get up to highway speed on the Interstate when the next exit appeared, with a full-service truck stop conveniently located just to the right of the off-ramp. He took turn a bit too fast, and wheeled into the spacious fueling station, glad to have his choice of pumps. He swung the motorhome back around to be facing out when it was time to leave, and as soon as he got into position and cut the ignition, he said, “Irene, bring Eliza and get as many grocery items in the store as you can while I fill up.”

  Once the two of them left the motorhome, Sam pointed to Jimmy and said, “Try calling him again. He needs to know what's going on.”

  Jimmy reached under the seat and retrieved his camcorder. “I'm gonna film some of this while we've got the chance, and then I'll try calling him.”

  He wanted to object, but Jimmy slipped out the door before he could stop h
im. Sam took his credit card out of his wallet, he stepped outside and went to the gas pump, starting the process of gassing up as Jimmy moved to where he could have a clear view of the eruption. While he was filming away, a car came screeching into the service plaza at high speed, aiming right for Jimmy's back.

  “Look out!”

  Much to Sam's relief, the car braked and swerved around Jimmy, although it missed him by mere inches. Had this been any other time, he would have dropped what he was doing and gone and beat the crap out of the fellow who almost ran over his son, but he just motioned at him to come back to the RV. Jimmy ambled slowly back to the vehicle, filming as he did so. Sam dared to look up to see for himself, and his heart froze. It was easily double the size it had been before, and the mushroom cloud now took up a significant swath of the clear western sky.

  While the gallons were adding up on the fuel pump, Sam struggled to make out what the strange-looking objects arching out from the main plume were. Jimmy answered that question for him as he apparently zoomed in with the cam. “What the hell! Those are mountains being blasted into the sky!”

  He froze for a moment, and then it hit him like a load of bricks being dumped from a second story window. “Mountains? You mean, there are mountains up in the sky?”

  Jimmy sided up next to his father, shoving the camcorder in front of his face. “Look in there, see! It's mountains!”

  As much as he would have liked to oblige his son, they really needed to get going again as quickly as possible. The pump finally clicked off, and he held the handle back a bit to squeeze off another gallon or two. In the meantime, a parade of cars began pouring into the service plaza, and in seconds, every available pump was occupied.

  Much to his relief, Irene and Eliza came walking out of the store, each carrying several stuffed bags in their hands, indicating how much food they'd been able to obtain.

  He waved them into the open doorway. “I'm almost done here. Get that put away and we're gonna hit the road. Jimmy, get in there.”

  Sam squeezed out as much gas as he possibly could get into the chute, and put the pump back into its place. An anxious-looking customer walked up to him. “About done, mister?”

  He smiled at the young fellow. “It's all yours.”

  Jimmy was still filming.

  “Jimmy, get in here, now.”

  Sam moved past him and stepped up into the motorhome, refusing to look at the spectacle any longer. They needed to leave immediately. “Jimmy. Now!”

  He finally complied, lowered the camera and stepped into the motorhome, pulling the door shut behind him. Sam shouted to him as he slid into the driver's seat. “Try calling Ryan while I get back on the Interstate.”

  Sam pulled out in front of a line of cars that were turning into the gas station, and manhandled the bulky motorhome sharply to the left and almost immediately, made another sharp turn to the right onto the ramp leading to the Interstate. He mashed his foot to the floor and the engine roared as it accelerated the unwieldy vehicle up the ramp.

  Only when he merged onto the highway and finally got it up to seventy did he realize Jimmy was talking to Ryan on the phone.

  Chapter 9

  Upon his instructions, Jimmy put the phone on speaker and placed it on the center console, so they could both hear Ryan speak. He sounded quite frantic on the phone, and Sam realized he was probably freaking out even more than he and his family were, despite being a thousand miles farther away from the volcano. “So you're just at the western border of North Dakota, then?” Ryan asked.

  Jimmy leaned closer to the phone and said, “Yes, we were having lunch when we saw it go off. That's why we stopped and got gas, and we got some groceries, too.”

  Ryan's voice crackled on the phone's speaker. “You're still not far enough. You really need to be on the other side of Bismark before the shock wave hits.”

  Sam glanced down at the speedometer, watching the needle climb past seventy-five. Did he dare push this thing up to eighty? “How fast is this shock wave moving?”

  “About five hundred miles per hour. That means you've got another thirty minutes before it hits. How fast are you going now?”

  “Almost eighty,” Sam replied.

  “Floor it. You need to be driving at the maximum speed the vehicle will muster. Every mile you can get to the east will increase your chances of survival.”

  Survival? Surely we're far enough away, we've got to be. Already not liking how the vehicle was handing at such terrific speed, he followed his brother's instructions, pressing the throttle as far down as it would go. The needle of the speedometer climbed slowly toward eighty-five – and kept going.

  Noticing the long pause, Sam shouted, “Ryan, you still there?”

  “Um, yeah, sorry. Just looking at the images coming in on the computer. Trust me when I say this is the big kahuna. It even looks more massive than the Huckleberry Ridge eruption. That's why you've got to put more distance between you and the eruption. Do you understand me?”

  Sam bit his lip almost hard enough to draw blood, watching the speedometer needle surpass ninety. He looked at the empty road that stretched through some eroded badlands, which only added to the surrealistic perspective of all of this. Despite being in the back, the roar of the ten-cylinder Ford engine assaulted his ears, the chassis vibrating under his seat. The wind screamed over and around the windshield, causing the blocky vehicle to shake from side to side. This is way, way too fast.

  “Sam? Do you understand me? You've got to keep it mashed to the floor.”

  Holding on to the steering wheel with an iron grip, he said, “I've got it above ninety, but I don't know if I can hold it.”

  “You're going to have to, and that's still not fast enough. Jimmy, are you able to see the eruption behind you?

  Jimmy turned his head aside to look out the side window. “Yeah, and it's looking really scary. It's huge!”

  “Can you see ejecta falling out of the sky, Jimmy?”

  Jimmy spent a few moments looking up at the sky. “I see these flaming streamers, like right overhead. Is that what you mean?”

  “Yes, and that's not good. You're about to get bombarded.”

  Jimmy turned toward Sam and said, “Drive faster, Dad!”

  Sam looked at the console, and saw the needle frozen at ninety-four miles per hour. The dotted white lines of the roadway slipped past at an unnatural pace, the wind screaming louder than ever. The heavy vehicle rocked back and forth on its suspension. “I can't do this. I'm dropping it down to eighty-five.”

  “No, you mustn't,” Ryan shouted over the phone. “You're not far en –” Ryan's voice cut off suddenly, with nothing but dead air coming over the phone.

  Jimmy picked it up and tried dialing again. It was no use. “I think we've lost the connection.”

  “We'll try calling later. I need to concentrate on keeping this thing on the road.”

  For the next few minutes, they raced through the badlands at top speed, emerging into perfectly level farmland, with no obstructions on the horizon whatsoever.

  Without warning, a pillar of white light flashed on his left. Before he had a chance to see what it was, a monstrous shock wave hit the motorhome with a body-pulsing BOOM! causing the motorhome to nearly tip over on its side. Somehow, through sheer luck, he managed to keep the wheels straight and the vehicle on the road in the midst of it rocking madly from side to side.

  “What the hell was that, Dad?” Jimmy shouted. Just then, another explosion hit from a greater distance. Jimmy pointed to an exploding fireball off to his right. “It's the stuff from the volcano. It's crashing down around us!”

  “But that's impossible. We're so far away.”

  “Dad! Look!”

  Sam looked up at the two o'clock position, and spotted a flaming, irregular-shaped mass falling out of the sky. The fireball arrowed downward, growing brighter by the second. Just before it collided with the ground, he said, “That's one of the mountains you saw back when we were getting gas, i
sn't it?”

  Jimmy didn't respond as a section of the horizon lit up brighter than the sun, much like the detonation of a nuclear bomb. Sam instinctively let off the gas as he watched the explosive cloud billow upward into the sky, the point of impact too bright to look at directly.

  Jimmy said, “I think you'd better stop. The shock wave from this is gonna be nasty. That thing must have been a mile across!”

  Sam slammed on the brakes, screeching the motorhome to a halt. He looked up and saw a cigar-shaped dust cloud moving towards them across the ground at lightning speed. “Cover your eyes, Jimmy. This might break the glass.”

  He continued watching for a few more seconds before covering his eyes with his left hand, gripping the armrest with his right, bracing for impact.

  It came about three seconds later, the shock wave rocking the motorhome with violent force. The noise was so powerful, Sam feared his eardrums had been punctured. The ground underneath them heaved up and back down again, causing the front of the motorhome to bounce into the air, like a car doing a bunny hop. Eliza let out a primal scream.

  The motorhome creaked a bit more and stopped. He held his breath and opened his eyes. Much to his surprise, the entire windshield remained intact, with nary a crack in it. He looked back at Irene, who was holding Eliza. “You guys okay?”

  “I think so, but my ears are ringing.”

  “Mine too,” said Jimmy, jamming a pinky into his left ear. “That was really, really loud.”

  Sam looked at the orange glow just over the horizon, and then at the cracked roadbed just ahead. “I guess we'd better see if we can get past this.”

  Driving at about forty miles per hour, slow enough to navigate around the cracked and tilted sections of the roadway, they proceeded past the area where the mountain had made impact with the ground. Pieces of destroyed buildings lay scattered on the ground on both sides of the highway, grass everywhere was in flames, and some distance to the south, it was a scene straight out of Hell itself. An orange wall of fire stretched for miles, the sky above black with smoke.