The Narsarsuaq controller spoke slowly, as though he was reading from a sheet.
‘Okay, what’s happened is that there has been an explosive volcanic eruption to the east of your position. It’s similar to the one that erupted in 2010, Eyjafjallajokull, which caused major disruption to air routes over the North Atlantic.’
Jason recalled the Eyjafjallajokull eruption well, even though he had still been at school as a teenager at the time. He could remember the news reports about the vast ash cloud produced by the volcano, which had caused enormous disruption to air travel across western and northern Europe over a period of six days in April 2010. Twenty countries closed their airspace to commercial jet traffic and the eruption affected some ten million travellers, making it one of the most disruptive and costly events to air travel in human history.
‘So, what’s the difference with this one?’ Reed asked.
‘It’s much closer to Keflavik and Reykjavik,’ came the reply. ‘The volcano is called Blafjoll, and is a strato volcano in a ridge system called the Blue Mountains, about twenty kilometres to the south east of Reykjavik. The entire inhabiated area of the city is built on lava flows from prior eruptions almost a thousand years ago, and the volcanoes there apparently erupt once every few hundred years. They’ve been detecting earthquakes in the region for some years but nobody thought that it would blow up like this.’
‘Big mistake,’ Jason noted.
‘The eruption has already been causing tsunamis and other related phenomena in the region, and the USGS reckons it’s the biggest eruption the volcano has produced in well over a thousand years. They’re predicting an ash cloud at least three times the size of the 2010 eruption of Eyjafjallajokull.’
‘Is it the ash cloud that’s preventing us from landing?’ Captain Reed asked.
‘The majority of the blast is being pushed away from you by the prevailing winds so Keflavik is not yet under threat, despite being so close to the city, but it rules out using Akureyri due to the danger of ash clogging your engines.’
‘How come we can’t land at Keflavik then?’ Jason asked.
‘The eruption has caused earthquakes in a roughly oval pattern around the blast area, following geological fault lines from south west through north east. Those quakes have caused multiple instances of what we’re being told are known as Limnic Eruptions.’
Jason and Reed exchanged a glance, the cockpit of the Airbus seemingly a calm and sterile place now compared to the tectonic violence tearing Iceland apart somewhere far below. ‘And what the hell is one of those?’
‘A limnic eruption is some kind of rare natural disaster that causes a release of dissolved carbon dioxide from lakes and seabeds. According to the geologists, this happened once at Lake Nyos in Cameroon in 1986 and wiped out entire villages. Thousands of people died.’
‘How?’ Jason asked.
He could hear the disbelief at the situation in the controller’s voice as he replied.
‘We’re getting fragments of information from all corners right now, but from what I can piece together this is the result of climate change. The carbon dioxide locked up in the sea beds and lakes used to be trapped by ice in the region you’re flying over, but now it’s warmed up and the recent eruption has cut it loose and it’s reached the surface.’
Jason could hear a shuffling of papers as the controller sought something at his desk.
‘We have had multiple reports of ships sinking in the Denmark Straits. The geologists are saying that the same eruption could have released huge amounts of methane clathrate from the ocean floor, massive bubbles of gas that float up and reduce the buoyancy of vessels while also suffocating their crews.’
The controller’s next statement struck them both like spears through their hearts.
‘Carbon dioxide gas is heavier than air, so it lays near the surface after it’s released. Anything alive in the area instantly suffocates as there’s suddenly no breathable atmosphere, and the volumes of CO2 being released are sufficient to leave a deep layer of gas at Keflavik and the surrounding areas.’
The words hung in the cockpit for a long moment as Jason and Reed finally understood what had happened at Keflavik. If some vast quantity of toxic gas had been swept inland by the earthquakes at sea or been released from Iceland’s countless volcanic lakes, then everything that lived in Keflavik and Reykjavik would have died within minutes of the noxious fumes engulfing the west coast.
‘That’s why we couldn’t land,’ Reed replied to Narsarsuaq. ‘The airport is under a layer of carbon dioxide.’
‘We don’t have any way of telling whether the gas has cleared yet,’ the controller confirmed. ‘We’re not getting replies from anybody within fifty miles of Keflavik, which means that the cloud must be absolutely vast. The whole thing gives you guys a really serious time issue.’
Jason realised instantly what the controller meant. They now had at very best half an hours’ worth of fuel aboard, and yet it would probably take that long for any fire and rescue service outside of the major towns to reach the airfield and test the conditions there.
‘We can’t land until they confirm the atmosphere is breathable, and by that time we might be forced to ditch into the sea,’ Jason said.
‘We’re not ditching in the sea,’ Reed replied sharply. ‘At this time of year and in these conditions, it would be little better than suicide.’
‘Then we land, and take our chances,’ Jason persisted.
‘That condemns to death yourselves and every passenger aboard if you get it wrong,’ the controller pointed out. ‘Right now, you’re all alive and your job is to try to stay that way until we can figure something out.’
Jason slumped back into his seat and dragged his hands down his face as he tried to digest everything that he had been told.
‘We can’t land, we can’t turn back and there’s nowhere else in range with a runway long enough to take us.’
Captain Reed nodded as he set the autopilot to hold their speed, altitude and heading while transmitting to Narsarsuaq.
‘We’re not dead yet. Those winds are westerly and coming in from the Atlantic Ocean, up the Denmark Strait. If the quakes happened off Iceland’s west coast, then it stands to reason that at some point the gales will carry the carbon dioxide away from Keflavik or at the very least clean up the air enough that we can breathe it.’
‘The USGS estimate that the quakes were about thirty kilometres off the coast of Iceland,’ the controller informed them. ‘If that’s right, then with an average twenty knot surface wind Keflavik might have cleared before you run out of fuel.’
‘Provided that there isn’t still gas being released from the sea bed,’ Captain Reed pointed out. ‘There could be aftershocks or more eruptions, and we’re not counting the lakes inland that might be churning out their own gas clouds.’
Jason again rubbed his face as he realised what would have happened to the airport and the towns around it.
‘My God, the people down there, everyone…’
Jason knew by virtue of regularly flying this route that some fifteen thousand people lived in Keflavik and the immediate surrounding area. In nearby Reykjavik, there were over a hundred thousand people and the same again in the local area.
‘A quarter of a million people,’ Reed muttered beneath his breath, and then spoke again to the controller. ‘How far did the eruption at Lake Nyos spread?’
The controller shuffled some more papers before he replied.
‘About sixteen miles, and the lake is far smaller than those in Iceland. Pingvallavatn alone is hundreds of times larger than Cameroon’s Lake Nyos and is only thirty kilometres from Reykjavik. We can’t be certain of anything right now because we can’t contact anyone in the vicinity of the event and anyone outside of it can’t go in without fear of dying themselves. However, if the eruption is measured by scale to that of Lake Nyos, the gas could spread a hundred miles north and south of the site, although it can’t go very far east because of th
e mountains.’
‘Which would also mean that the gases remain concentrated on the west coast,’ Reed said and dragged a hand down his jawline. ‘Either way, it doesn’t help us. Hasn’t there been any contact from aircraft on the ground at Keflavik? Wouldn’t the crews and passengers have used the internal oxygen system to survive?’
Jason knew that by law all airliners carried an internal oxygen system that deployed to prevent asphyxiation in the event of fire or rapid decompression, but he also knew that the supply did not last long even with the presence of carbon dioxide scrubbers on board the planes.
‘The gases would have been invisible, so the crews aboard any aircraft on the ground would have had no warning that they needed to deploy the oxygen masks, and the gases would have overwhelmed the internal oxygen scrubbing system of any aircraft that had done so anway.’
‘What about the tower?’ Jason asked. ‘Wouldn’t they have been elevated above the gas cloud?’
‘Evidently not,’ came the reply, ‘or they would have responded by now. It’s reasonable to assume that everybody within fifty miles of Keflavik is either dead or unable to make contact with the outside world. As for the north and the east of Iceland, the USGS team are reporting major eruption data from the same volcano right at this moment and are predicting large ash formations that will spread north east, which rules out Akureyri as a diversion.’
‘Akureyri was closed anyway due to the weather,’ Captain Reed muttered as he thumped the arm of his seat. ‘We need people on the ground down at Keflavik to tell us if the air is clear to breathe.’
‘They’re already on it,’ came the reply. ‘Teams from a USGS volcanic survey in Iceland are equipped with oxygen and are already on their way to Keflavik to assess the situation. However, the weather’s bad and they’re going to have a hell of a time reaching the airfield. Right now, all you can do is stay airborne for as long as humanly possible.’
***
XII
Jason glanced instinctively once again at the fuel gauges on the instrument panel, calculating total fuel against fuel–burn rate for the Airbus’s twin engines. It only took a moment to figure their endurance.
‘Including the descent, which we’ll need power for to get through those storms, we’ve got about thirty–two minutes endurance at this altitude.’
Captain Reed nodded as he too scanned the instruments once again and then he reached to his wrist and set a digital countdown on his watch to thirty two minutes. ‘Once that’s over we’re going down whether we like it or not. Narsarsuaq might think that the air is unbreathable at ground level, but in those winds? Surely there must be some kind of mixing with upper layers of air, something that would break up the gases?’
Jason shrugged.
‘If they had tall enough buildings then some people might have survived on upper floors in Keflavik, but it doesn’t do us much good. Even if there was an airfield that had a high enough elevation for us to land on, the chances are that it would be too short and then we’re looking at a crash landing of one kind or another. And what if the mixing of the gases pushes the CO2 higher instead of dispersing it? We might land in air that is only partially breathable, and you and I both know what that would mean.’
Oxygen deprivation was something that all aircrews trained to face from the moment they began their very first flying lessons. A silent, lethal killer, it presented itself in light aircraft as the danger of carbon monoxide poisoning from gases leaking into the cockpit from faulty piston–engine exhausts. Typically, the fumes would cause confusion, headaches and fatigue and the unfortunate pilot and passengers would pass out, leaving the unattended airplane to tumble from the skies. Most such airplanes carried a carbon monoxide detector in the cockpit that would change colour in the presence of the gas.
For higher flying aircraft, it was a lack of air pressure at altitude that presented the real danger. The resulting hypoxia produced startling effects in humans, resembling drug or alcohol induced mania and euphoria followed swiftly by loss of consciousness and death. A similar low–oxygen environment that might exist at Keflavik would result in their passengers and crew slowly suffocating or perhaps suffering permanent brain damage as a result of landing the plane too early. They might land safely, but their lives would effectively end within minutes of exiting the airplane.
Reed sighed and rubbed his eyes with his thumbs.
‘What about the passengers?’ Jason asked. ‘By rights and law they should be informed about this now.’
Reed faltered. For the first time, Jason could see that he found himself questioning the company’s official line on keeping the passenger cabin in the dark concerning emergencies. They were going to have to hang around up here and the only excuse they had was that the weather was too severe at Keflavik to land. While it was true that some weather conditions such as dense fog or very high crosswinds could close even major airports, pilots trained and airplanes were designed respectively to handle such conditions. Those in the passenger cabin who flew frequently would have a pretty good idea of what airliners and their crews could take and might start getting suspicious.
‘We hold it back for a while longer for sure,’ Reed said finally, ‘but we’re gonna have to shut an engine down to conserve fuel. That’s not normal and they’re going to really start worrying about that.’
The Airbus A318 was quite capable, like most airliners, of flying on a single engine. Such was a requirement of all such aircraft in the event of an engine becoming unserviceable during flight due to mechanical failure or foreign object ingestion such as a bird strike. Normally the airplane would then make a diversion for safety’s sake and land at the first available opportunity, but here they were going to have to stay aloft for as long as they possibly could.
‘We do what all professional crews do,’ Reed added as he keyed the passenger cabin address system, ‘and tell as much of the truth as possible.’
*
Becca was moving aft through the passenger cabin when she heard the captain’s voice broadcast through the airplane.
‘Ladies and gentlemen this is your captain speaking. We’d like to apologise for the delay on this flight to Keflavik. Unfortunately, the crosswinds at the airport remain severe and we’re not able to land at this time, so Keflavik have asked us to orbit at altitude until a break in the weather emerges. Due to the thunderstorms in the area we’ve climbed above the cloud layers once again to avoid the turbulence and make the wait more confortable for you. I’d like to inform you that in order to conserve fuel, we’ll be shutting down one of the engines.’
Becca heard a ripple of horrified gasps that fluttered up and down the cabin as the captain went on.
‘This is normal procedure and the aircraft is more than capable of flight on one engine. Hopefully the weather will turn in our favour down there in Keflavik and we’ll have you all on the ground soon. The stewardesses will be distributing free snacks, so please do try to sit back and make yourselves as comfortable as possible until we’re ready to begin our descent. Once again, my apologies on behalf of the cabin crew for this short delay. Thank you.’
Becca turned and headed back to the galley without hesitation in order to grab the food trolleys, and saw Chloe heading toward her with the same thought in mind. Now Becca was really concerned about what was going on down in Keflavik; the requirement to shut down a perfectly serviceable engine in–flight was practically unheard of. A voice called out to her as she hurried aft.
‘Miss, what’s going on? I’ve never had this trouble with a flight here before?’ asked a thick–set man with heavy stubble and a shaved head.
‘I have to be in Reykjavik this evening for a business meeting,’ said another in a charcoal grey suit, crisp white shirt and tie, his jacket folded neatly in his lap.
‘I really need to get on the ground soon,’ said a haggard looking man with lank brown hair and a pale complexion, who looked like he was suffering from air sickness. ‘Will this take much longer?’
&n
bsp; ‘My boy’s feeling poorly again.’
‘Can we use the toilet yet?’
‘Can I get my laptop down from the lockers?’
‘Will we be compensated for the delay?’
Becca answered each of them as patiently as she could, but she too was beginning to feel the strain of not knowing what the hell was going on. She almost made it to the galley when a new voice reached her.
‘Miss?’
An elderly gentlemen, with a smartly cropped moustache that looked like a pair of twisted silver bayonets, looked up at her with clear grey eyes and smiled.
‘I used to fly airlines,’ he said, his voice soft and yet somehow able to carry right across the airplane. ‘We also usually only ever shut down an engine when we were trying to conserve fuel, but I can tell you that we frequently landed in conditions that make the weather down there at Keflavik look like a playground. What’s really going on?’
The passengers in the aft section of the cabin seemed to fall suddenly silent. A wave of expectation eminated from where Becca stood and moved to encompass the entire cabin. Even those at the front of the plane who could not have heard the man’s question fell silent in response to those around them.
Becca gathered herself and smiled.
‘I can only assure you that the crew have everything under control, sir, and that there’s nothing to be concerned about.’
Even as the last word came out of her mouth, the incessant rumble of the airplane’s engines changed note. A ripple of exclamations swept through the passengers as they all turned to the right, and Becca listened as the whine of the big Pratt & Whitney turbofan engine faded away. She felt a gentle twist of the airplane beneath her feet as it turned slightly under the assymetric thrust from a single engine on the left wing, before it straightened again as the autopilot compensated with rudder trim.
Altitude (Power Reads Book 1) Page 6