Yellowstone: Fallout: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (The Yellowstone Series Book 3)

by Bobby Akart

  Today, on day seven of the eruption of the Yellowstone Supervolcano, scientists were unanimous in their agreement. A VEI 9 supereruption was possible, and it was unfolding before the eyes of modern man.

  Earth’s greatest killer was doing what it did best—kill things. First, it blew up the planet in a hundred-mile radius, incinerating every living thing in a raging inferno. Then, the poisonous gases trapped beneath the earth’s surface spread outward at enormous speeds, reaching far beyond the newly formed caldera, chasing down humans and animals. The death was painful as the noxious gases were taken into their lungs, causing pulmonary distress.

  That happened in the early hours and days of the several volcanic eruptions which occurred at Yellowstone. Then, day seven arrived. The rim of the caldera began to sink into the earth, dragging mountains down with it. The final eruption sent the largest amount of magma and ash into the stratosphere ever recorded or observed in the history of man. An area the size of New Jersey erupted skyward, like a never-ending mushroom cloud, stretching toward the Pacific Ocean and carried by the jet stream across the United States and beyond.

  The deaths around the country were not quite as dramatic as the way those nearest Yellowstone had perished. People and animals literally began to choke to death on the extremely fine particles of ash which overcame them.

  As the eruption launched the particles of ash and poisonous gas into the stratosphere, the volcanic cloud began to circle the earth. It systematically dispersed sulfur dioxide, a hundred million tons of it, which combined with water to form a fine, aerosol mist of sulfuric acid.

  As the sulfuric acid dropped lower into the earth’s atmosphere, it created the greatest environmental disaster known to man. Not only did it poison those living beings that breathed it, but it led to greater cloud cover around the globe, further impeding sunlight which was already blocked by the volcanic cloud.

  The immediate effect on the global climate was profound. Temperatures were lowered by five degrees almost immediately with an even greater decrease along the northern latitudes. Scientists only had to look at history to predict what was in store for the planet.

  After the VEI 7 eruption of Mount Tambora in 1815, unseasonable cold killed livestock and food around the world. The following year, the world experienced the year without summer. In the United States, every morning was covered in frost. Wheat, corn, and hay crops failed. Without feed for livestock, coupled with the poisonous effect of the volcanic matter, the country’s meat supply disappeared.

  America had faced these challenges, and more. At the time of the Tambora eruption, the population of America was seven million. The population at the time of this Yellowstone eruption was three-hundred-twenty million. America was a nation that relied upon technology and transportation. She was ill-equipped to deal with a catastrophic event of this magnitude.

  And, at the time, it was a nation on edge, wrought with political divisiveness and class warfare. The mindset of the population was not like the early eighteen-hundreds when neighbor helped neighbor, and one wouldn’t hesitate to lend a hand to a stranger. It was a time of self-interest in which the takers outnumbered the makers. It was an era in which many lived with a sense of entitlement and a belief that the government should be there to take care of them in their time of need.

  On day seven of the Yellowstone supereruption, Americans were in for a rude awakening as the ash fallout spread far and wide.

  PART ONE

  Welcome to the Mad House

  Chapter 1

  The Mad House

  Near Maple Creek, California

  “Nobody move a muscle.”

  Now that Jake Wheeler had killed, it would’ve been easier to pull the trigger and shoot the two strangers in the kitchen of the Mad House. But he was experienced now, having lived through a full-on assault by men who had nefarious intent. In less than two seconds, he’d conducted a quick threat assessment.

  The two guys who stood with their backs to him were unarmed and well-dressed. Plus, oddly, they were unpacking boxes, rather than loading up his family’s belongings. In a world in which shoot first and ask questions later would become the norm, Jake’s instincts told him these two deserved the opportunity to explain.

  They quickly spun around, but reacting in a fearful, not antagonistic way. “Wait. Don’t shoot. Your mother sent us.”

  Jake stepped forward, his eyes scanning the entrances to the kitchen and back to the hallway behind him. “Keep talking,” he growled.

  One of the men pointed toward the kitchen table where several pieces of paper were stapled together. “Your mother emailed me and asked for my assistance.”

  Jake moved toward the table and without lowering his rifle, he glanced at the email sent from his mother to Joe Barnett.

  The other man, who was visibly nervous, spoke up. He spoke uncharacteristically fast. “I’m Joe Barnett from Maple Creek. Your parents hired me years ago to look after the place. She sent that email to me yesterday. There is also a personal note for you.”

  Jake began to relax. He brought his rifle to low-ready and exhaled. “She asked you to stock the pantry?” he said inquisitively.

  Barnett’s companion, a much younger, heavy set man whose features gave him away as his son, responded. “She asked for a whole lot more but to be honest, you’re lucky to find a breadcrumb on a store shelf around here. The canned goods and food items we found were from a closed-down restaurant. We had to be pay a small fortune for this, but your mom said to spare no expense.”

  Jake shouldered his rifle and introduced himself. He picked up the email and glanced at it again. “I’m sorry for pointing the gun at you. We’ve had a difficult trip and I had to be careful.”

  “That’s okay,” said Barnett. “Do you want us to leave?”

  “No,” replied Jake as he gestured over his shoulder with the email in his hand. “I need to go tell my friend what’s going on. Again, I apologize.” He excused himself and returned to the Bounder.

  The impetuous Ashby Donovan had followed Jake’s instructions, for once, and remained in the motorhome with her rifle ready. As soon he came into view, he waived and gave her a thumbs up to immediately ease her anxiety. When they were together, they fed off each other’s strength and confidence. They trusted one another with their lives and knew they could stand shoulder-to-shoulder against any threat.

  When they were apart, it wasn’t fear that entered their conscience, but rather, concern for the other. As Jake and Ashby fell in love, their primal instinct to preserve their own well-being was displaced with the priority of protecting each other.

  She exited the side of the motorhome and met him halfway. Ashby was still holding her shotgun when Jake embraced her.

  “My mother ordered supplies for the cabin,” he said. “The man who has been the caretaker over the years and his son, found what they could.”

  “Really? I mean, how did she know that —?” Ashby asked and then her voice trailed off. Jake had become emotional.

  “I guess you can call it mother’s intuition. Maybe she knows me better than I thought?”

  Ashby nodded and reached for the email. “What’s this?”

  “She sent this email to Mr. Barnett with instructions to find us some food. He said there’s also a note for me. We’ll read it later. Come on, I’ll show you around after we help these guys unload.”

  Jake and Ashby each carried in a box and within a few minutes, there pantry was stocked with a variety of #10 cans of vegetables and smaller containers of peanut butter, canned fish, and packaged meats.

  Ashby opened the refrigerator and saw that it was completely empty. She laughed and said, “Well, I’d offer you something cold to drink but we still have some shopping to do.”

  Jake laughed and led them into the living room. “Do you have a minute to talk before you head back to town?”

  “Sure,” said Joe. “Plus, I’d like to extend an invitation for you and Ashby to come into to town and meet my wife as well. Ben
nita is the mayor of Maple Creek.”

  “Wow,” began Jake. “When I used to come up here as a teen, Maple Creek didn’t have a red light.”

  “Still doesn’t,” said Joe with a chuckle. “This part of Northern California is still unspoiled by the loonies that occupy the rest of the state. Folks come here to get away, relax. You know, hunt and fish. Pretty soon, there were enough residents to warrant an elementary school. When that happened, more families moved into the mountains and we built a B & B to accommodate visitors. One thing led to another and the next thing you know, the locals decided we needed a government. They anointed, after an election, of course, Bunny as their mayor.”

  “Bunny?” asked Ashby.

  “Yeah, that’s my wife nickname,” replied Joe. “When we opened the place, I teased her about calling it the Bunny Ranch.”

  Joe’s son started laughing and Jake snickered. Ashby didn’t get the reference, so Joe continued.

  “She loved the name, thinking it would be cute if we had a variety of rabbits. You know, give the place that getaway-to-the-country look and feel.”

  “Yeah, then she googled Bunny Ranch one day,” said Joe’s son who was clearly amused at the practical joke played on his mother.

  “You gotta help me out, here,” said Ashby. “Is there another Bunny Ranch?”

  “Well, yeah,” replied Joe’s son. “It’s only the most famous Nevada brothel in the world. It’s right outside the state capital of Carson City.”

  Ashby tilted her head and addressed Joe. “You named your bed and breakfast after a brothel?”

  “No, honey,” laughed Joe. “I intended to fess up before it went too far. I always intended to suggest Barnett’s Bed & Breakfast. You know, Barnett’s B & B. The logo would be some form of B-B-B.”

  “Yeah, when she found out Dad was trickin’ her, she blew up on him! It was really funny.”

  Jake glanced outside and noticed daylight was getting away from them. He suddenly realized the Barnett’s had lots of stories to tell so he decided to get to the point.

  “I really appreciate you doing this for us and again, my apologies for saying hello with my rifle.”

  Joe nodded and scooted forward on the sofa. “Don’t you worry about that, Jake. We’re living in different times now. I know you folks had a long drive here and need your rest. There are a lot of things to talk about so we’re gonna skedaddle. Get settled in and when you have a chance in the next day or so, please come by the B & B. I’ll bring you to speed on what’s happening around here.”

  Jake had several questions, but he decided to wait until tomorrow to address them with the Barnett’s. Ashby appeared tired and he was exhausted to.

  As they said their goodbyes from the front porch, Joe turned and added one more piece of advice. He looked reflectively around the forest and down toward the Mad River.

  “Jake, we live in a different world. When you hear something go bump in the night, as they say, it’s worth investigating. Okay?’

  Jake nodded and immediately began scanning the woods.

  Chapter 2

  The Mad House

  Near Maple Creek, California

  Jake found the remote to the television and the DirecTV satellite system. He powered on the heavy plasma television which had been installed about the last time he stayed at the Mad House. The large glass monitor required two men to lift and install on the wall. At the time, it was the latest and greatest in technology. Now, it wouldn’t sell for twenty dollars at a flea market. The SONY picture, however, was still excellent.

  Every major network was providing continuous coverage from around the country, as well as Europe. Jake and Ashby sat in stunned silence as they soaked in the news reports. Occasionally, Ashby would provide commentary which generally consisted of astonishment as to the immediate environmental impact the Yellowstone Eruption had on the Midwest, East Coast, and the Pacific Northwest.

  “Jake, the caldera has swallowed the mountain ranges on the perimeter of Yellowstone.”

  “Here’s what amazes me,” started Jake, shaking his head in disbelief. “I get that the satellites can’t provide an accurate image of what has happened because the volcanic cloud obscures their view. If what the talking heads say is true, Yellowstone will continue to spew magma and ash into the atmosphere for several more weeks, or longer.”

  “At least,” added Ashby.

  Jake continued. “The mountains have disappeared, according to the reports. If I’m hearing correctly, the only way they know this is because cities and towns stretching from Idaho in the west, over to Wyoming, and then from Montana to Utah, have disappeared.”

  “Yes,” said Ashby. “All of those people, the towns, everything, are gone. The Yellowstone caldera has doubled in size and it will continue to destroy its surroundings for weeks.”

  Jake turned down the volume and began to surf through the channels. The imagery was the same. Computer models were shown. Scientists debated. Death toll graphics were displayed. The numbers were incomprehensible.

  “Ashby, the models show the fallout coming towards us. Those rings around Yellowstone indicate a twelve inch or higher coating of Northern California before it’s over. Am I right?”

  “Jake, I wish I had my satellite dishes to access the internet to conduct my own analysis. But, based on what I’m seeing, the answer is maybe. So many factors have to be considered such as wind and rainfall. Timing is also an issue. Our predictive models in the past always assumed a thirty-day eruptive process. Yellowstone is much bigger than we imagined. It might take longer.”

  Jake sighed and handed over the remote to Ashby who searched for the BBC network. She wanted to see how Europe was responding to the calamity.

  He continued. “I guess I’m trying to get a handle on whether we should get comfortable here, or not. If a foot of ash fallout is headed our way, not to mention the poisonous gases which are now circulating in the upper-level atmosphere, then we’ve got to look at this place as temporary.”

  Ashby turned sideways on the sofa and took Jake’s hands. “I wish I could be more definitive. I vote we head into Maple Creek tomorrow and let me get internet access to NASA’s servers. Also, I’ll reach out to some of my colleagues and get their opinions.”

  Jake gathered the energy to get off the couch. “All right, Dr. Donovan. Enough talk about the doomsday apocalypse. Let me introduce you to the Mad House and tell a story or two. Then, we’ll open up a couple of cans of Spam and see if I can locate my father’s whisky stash. He never was a beer drinker, but he did have a taste for single-malt scotch.”

  “Scotch and Spam will do in a pinch,” quipped Ashby as she reached her hand up to get Jake’s assistance off the feather-pillow soft sofa cushion. “But, I’ll take moonshine at this point.”

  Jake walked her around the house and showed off the décor. “My mom hired a decorator from nearby Eureka to create a mountain home feel without being too themey. Dad insisted it should not have a bunch of stuffed bears and deer on the walls. He didn’t want it to look like a lodge. I remember one Christmas, right after we bought the place, Mom bought him one of those talkin’ Billy Bass things. You know, the kind you hung on that wall and it began singing, take me to the river?”

  “I remember,” replied Ashby. “Annoying, but cute.”

  “Yeah, it got old after a while. He made me hang it in the garage near the fishing gear cabinet.”

  Jake pointed into the master bedroom at the west end of the house. It was a large space with another stone fireplace, two walk-in closets, and a spacious master bath.

  Ashby was impressed. “Well, Mr. Wheeler, a lady could get used to this.”

  Jake laughed. “So could I. That’s why I wanna get a handle on the fallout threat.” He walked toward a bookcase which flanked another outdated plasma monitor.

  Ashby ran her fingers along the binders and read the names aloud. “Grisham. Cornwell. Patterson. Ludlum. Crichton. Look, even Stephen King. I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t read anything b
y that guy, especially out here in the middle of nowhere.”

  Jake laughed. “Believe it or not, these are mainly props, although mom liked to read. Watch this.”

  He removed several Crichton novels and then slid a small panel to the side which was concealed at the back of the bookcase. He pressed in the code, 9-7-5-3. A click could be heard. Then Jake pressed on the end of the bookcase until it pushed in slightly and immediately sprung back.

  Ashby folded her arms and chuckled. “Holy Batman!”

  Jake pulled the bookcase open revealing a hidden space that backed up to a spare bedroom. He found the light switch and turned it on, revealing the contents of the walk-in closet.

  The walls were lined with weapons and there were green ammunition cans stacked along the floor with tags identifying the caliber. Rifles, shotguns, and handguns were displayed around two sides of the cool, dark space.

  “Dad was a gun guy, to say the least,” began Jake. “Here’s the thing, he rarely hunted, at least as far as I can remember. He just believed that we should have plenty of guns.”

  “Was he paranoid?” asked Ashby.

  “No, not paranoid. I wanna say he was hyper-aware. He was born and raised in California and saw how society began to change. He never said it aloud, but I believe he always considered this place to be a place of refuge, a haven, in case something happened.”

  Ashby walked in and looked around. “There are medical kits. Long term food kits. Portable radios. Are you sure he wasn’t a prepper?”

  “I guess, in a way, he was,” replied Jake. “I mean, he had the forethought to buy himself a place in New Zealand to live while the world collapsed around us.”

  “I don’t think of preppers as being people like your parents,” said Ashby. “I think of a bunch of camo-wearin’, gun totin’, conspiracy theorists who believe the apocalypse is right around the corner.”

  Jake laughed as he brushed past Ashby toward a closed-door cabinet. “Well, maybe the preppers were right.”