“Excuse me?”
“His cell phone number. We must speak to him immediately.”
“I can’t give you his cell phone number. It’s an invasion of his privacy. He wouldn’t like it.”
“So you have it then?”
“Yes. But…”
One of the men pulled out his wallet, counted through his bills, and shrugged at the other.
The second man pulled out his own wallet, took out a folded hundred dollar bill from a hidden compartment, and handed it to Stacy.
A hundred dollar bill was a lot of money for a reporter at a small town newspaper.
“What’s this for?”
“His cell phone number. And we won’t tell him where we got it.”
She tossed the bill back at him.
“I don’t want that.”
“But… it’s all we’ve got.”
“His number is not for sale. And even if it was I wouldn’t give it to you.”
“Why? Has the Times-Herald beaten us to him?”
Dumb turned to Dumber and said, “See! I told you if we didn’t leave first thing the Times-Herald would beat us to the scoop.”
He turned back to Stacy and said, “Maybe we can interview you instead. Are you an instructor?”
“No. I’m just barely a student. And interview me about what?”
“The volcano! The volcano! What else would we want to talk to you about?”
Stacy had had just about enough.
“I think it’s time for you to leave.”
Dumber looked at Dumb, a downtrodden expression upon his face.
Dumb matched the look. They were defeated. There was no scoop here, not today.
They headed for the door, almost bowling over a tall thin man who was coming in while they were going out.
“Oh my goodness,” Stacy said. “Are you all right, Dr. Bennett?”
She’d seen the chancellor a couple of times before, at official university functions. But she’d never met him in person.
“Yes, I’m fine. Is Professor Hamlin in?”
“No sir. He’s still in Washington, D.C., as far as I know. I’ve tried to contact him but can’t get through. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No thank you, dear. I’ve been trying to get through to him myself. I suppose a lot of people have been. I suppose that’s why his message box is full.”
“Yes sir, I suppose.”
“I asked one of my staff to place a note on his door, saying I need to see him immediately upon his return. Do you know if that’s been done?”
She held up the largest of the notes for him to see.
“Yes, sir. I’m going to put it in the center of his desk so he sees it first.”
“His trip to Washington… business or pleasure?”
“Pleasure, I believe.”
“Do you know if his wife went with him?”
“No sir, I don’t believe so.”
His face brightened just a bit.
“Excellent! Perhaps his wife knows another way to contact him.”
“Perhaps.”
He turned to leave, then as an afterthought turned back to her.
“This is a fine kettle of fish our Dr. Hamlin has opened for us. Thank you, young lady.”
Stacy, never having heard the saying before, and not knowing what in the world he was talking about, merely agreed.
“Yes, sir. You’re welcome, sir.”
When he walked out she closed the office door and locked it, lest she be interrupted again.
She wondered about the mysterious email mentioned on some of the sticky notes, and used her cell phone to log into her own email account.
What she read there made her cry.
Her first reaction was to process Dr. Hamlin’s words… especially the two bands he talked about. The inner band including all the cities which would be destroyed outright.
And the outer band which included cities whose structures might survive the eruption itself.
But which would still take a toll.
The words “every living thing would perish” sent chills up her spine.
Her next emotion was panic, as she thought of all the friends and relatives who lived in one band or the other.
All the children.
All the elderly.
Next came denial. There just had to be a mistake. While she had the utmost trust in Professor Hamlin’s knowledge and ability, it just wasn’t possible that the country was on the verge of destruction.
Then came hope.
As false as it was.
Surely, she reasoned, something could be done to prevent such a tragedy. Perhaps relief shafts could be drilled into the magma to vent some of the heat and slow down the process.
Or… something.
She wasn’t knowledgeable enough to know how such an intervention would work.
She wasn’t knowledgeable enough to understand that it wouldn’t work.
Chapter 47
Stacy was a smart girl. Normally she was the one girl in a group who saw what needed to be done; who sprang into action.
But this… this was too much to handle.
She was certain Dr. Hamlin had a game plan. He always did. And he obviously knew more about the situation than anyone. After all, he was the one in Washington trying to negotiate with the government.
The same government that was apparently murdering people or kidnapping them.
She suddenly panicked.
And tried his cell phone again.
On the night table in his hotel room his phone rang, as it had done dozens of times before since he’d stumbled out of the room.
There was no one there to answer it.
The battery was almost dead. It wouldn’t ring much longer. As for Dr. Hamlin, he wouldn’t be talking to anyone, on the phone or otherwise, on this particular day.
Stacy was distraught.
She wouldn’t be opposed to catching the next flight to Washington, except she’d made her car payment the day before and didn’t have air fare.
College kids don’t have a lot of extra money for darting around the country on short notice.
And if she did have the money, how would she possibly find him in a city the size of Washington? She didn’t make his hotel reservations. He said he’d take care of that. And there must be hundreds of hotels there.
Still, she had to do something. If for no other reason to occupy her mind.
As she lined the sticky notes up neatly on his desk she wondered whether her mom and dad wouldn’t mind buying a round trip ticket to Washington for her. Heck, her dad was retired now and might even go with her.
Then she remembered that her parents lived in Albuquerque.
They were in the line of fire.
She grabbed her phone, feeling like the world’s worst daughter. Calling her parents to warn them should have been her very first instinct.
As she listened to the phone ringing she was surprised, and just a little bit alarmed, to notice her hands were trembling.
“Hello.”
“Hello Mom.”
“Oh, hi honey! How’s stuff and things? Shouldn’t you be in class or something?”
“Not for a couple of hours. Mom, something terrible has happened.”
“What’s the matter, honey? Did you have an accident? Are you hurt? Are you in the hospital? What happened?”
Stacy waited patiently for all the “mom” questions to end. Then she said, as calmly as she could, “No. Nothing like that. You remember Dr. Hamlin? The professor I intern for?”
“Yes.”
“He found out the Yellowstone Caldera is active and getting ready to erupt, like, any time now.”
“The Yellowstone what?”
Stacy forgot that the Yellowstone Caldera, which is common knowledge to geologists and volcanologists, is almost universally unknown by others.
“The Yellowstone Caldera. It’s a super volcano beneath Yellowstone National Park.”
“Yellow
stone National Park has a volcano? Cool.”
“No mom, not cool. This isn’t just any volcano. It’s one of the biggest in the world and when it blows it’ll destroy a big part of the United States.”
“Like Mount St. Helens?”
“Way worse than Mount St. Helens.”
“Like Krakatoa?”
“Even bigger than Krakatoa.”
Stacy’s mom fell silent. She’d heard of the 1883 Krakatoa eruption while she was in college, though it was hard to remember the details.
“Didn’t that eruption kill, like lots of people?”
“Yes. Thousands. But that was on an island in the middle of the ocean. Yellowstone is bigger and in the frickin’ United States.”
“Are you safe where you are, honey?”
“No. And neither are you. We’re both in the evacuation zone.”
The other end went silent again.
Then came a question which sounded ludicrous under the circumstances. But it didn’t offend Stacy, for she recognized it for what it was: a grasp for hope.
“Stacy, are you on one of those shows? Where you call up your parents to play a stupid prank on them? Are you trying to punk us, or whatever you kids call it?”
“No, Mom. I promise I’m not.”
That was all it took.
For since she was a small girl, Stacy was a prankster and practical joker.
But she was just as famous for never telling a lie and for never, ever breaking a promise.
It was known far and wide, inside her family and circle of friends, that Stacy could spin as tall a tale as anyone else they knew.
But it was easy to tell when Stacy was pulling a prank or spinning a yarn.
It was just a matter of saying, “Stacy, do you promise?”
If she said, “Darn it” and changed the subject, she was pulling a prank.
If she said, “I promise,” she was telling the truth.
Stacy’s mother didn’t know what to say. She fell silent again. Then she asked, “Are you sure, honey?”
“Yes ma’am. I’m sure.”
Mom needed time to process everything.
So she handed Stacy off to Dad.
“Here, honey. Tell your father what you told me.”
Ten minutes later Stacy’s parents sat together on their living room couch, holding hands and in a mild case of shock.
“But this is our home,” she told him. “We’ve lived here for almost forty years. How can we just up and leave it?”
It would become a very common sentiment in the coming weeks.
Chapter 48
From Hamlin’s desk Stacy could hear voices in the hallway.
“Should we camp out and wait for him?”
“Do you have his address? Let’s send a crew to his house.”
“Shhhh. I thought I heard voices. I think somebody’s in there.”
“Hey, watch the boom. That’s my head you’re banging into!”
Through the opaque class in the upper half of the oak door she could make out shapes and colors.
And notes. More sticky notes were being applied to the outside of the glass to take the place of the ones she’d already taken down.
The knocking on the door was almost nonstop.
Sometimes the knockers would announce themselves.
“Dr. Hamlin, this is Wes Moreland from KLLT News. If you’re available I’d only like about twenty minutes of your time.”
“Professor Hamlin, this is Mark Kennedy of the student union. We’re organizing a protest on the common and we’d like for you to join us.”
More often than not, though, the knocks just came and went.
Stacy didn’t know it, but all the other faculty members in the corridor had already locked their offices and gone home.
It was already turning into a circus-like atmosphere, as one reporter after another was unable to find Dr. Hamlin and went in search of someone else instead.
The other professors were tired of fielding questions like “Would you describe what kind of man Dr. Hamlin is?”
Or even worse, “Is Professor Hamlin a stable man?”
The only office still occupied in the long corridor was the very last one.
Stacy was all alone, and was starting to ponder her fate.
She began to wonder what would happen if she were to leave. Would they let her? Or, in the absence of Professor Hamlin would they pounce upon her like wolves?
Would they block her way and refuse to let her pass in their desire to get a scoop… any scoop? Preferably to get the dirt on a man she respected and trusted greatly?
She was frightened. Not only because of the news of Yellowstone, but for her own personal safety as well.
Then she had a thought.
Perhaps if she could get ahold of Julie Hamlin, the professor’s wife, she could shed some light on what to do.
Or can at least get a message to the professor so she’d know how to handle the growing crowd.
Stacy had Wayne’s home phone number in her cell phone, although she’d never called it.
She didn’t have his wife’s cell number, because neither of them could envision a scenario where she’d ever need it.
She searched the Rolodex on his desk.
Ordinarily she’d have felt guilty and a bit dirty for prying.
But damn it, this was important.
Under “H” she found “Hamlin,” then a card marked Julie”
The home phone number she ignored. She could have already called it, but suspected it was off the hook.
There was a cell number.
Surely Julie would keep the cell number on, so she could talk to her husband as they navigated these new waters.
Unsure what to say, she called the number anyway.
It was busy.
Of course.
But at least the mailbox wasn’t full.
She left a long and convoluted voicemail:
“Hi, Mrs. Hamlin. This is Stacy, your husband’s intern. I’m at his office and it’s a nightmare here. People are banging on the door and I’m afraid to go outside.
“He’s got dozens of messages, including one from the chancellor and another from the board of regents.
“Chancellor Bennett has been by to see him and wants Dr. Hamlin to contact him immediately. I’ve tried to call him but he’s not picking up and his voicemail is full.
“Please, have him call me and tell me what I’m supposed to do.”
On the other end of the line, Julie Hamlin was trying to deal with her own circus.
She was at a severe disadvantage.
At least Stacy had seen the email. She knew what the ruckus was all about.
At the Hamlin house, all hell was breaking loose.
TV trucks were parked all the way up and down the block.
The family dog, Penny, had to be locked in the bedroom. She’d lost her voice barking at the strangers who’d camped out on the doorstep.
The knocking was constant.
So was the doorbell until Julie took the cover off the chime and disconnected it.
Reporters were shouting questions for Dr. Hamlin through the front door.
Through the picture window.
Julie went to hide in the bathroom and was startled to hear someone knocking on the tiny window over her head.
“Dr. Hamlin! Dr. Hamlin, please come to the window. We’re willing to pay you five thousand dollars for an exclusive twenty minute studio interview.”
“Take your five thousand dollars and go screw yourself!” Julie yelled back.
Such behavior was uncharacteristic of Julie. But she’d had enough.
The local police were no help.
“Sorry, ma’am. We can come out and you can fill out a no-trespassing order. But you’ll have to fill out a form for every one of them by name. We’ll make them leave and tell them if they come back they’ll be arrested.
“But they’ll just hand off their microphone and camera to somebody else from their sta
tion.”
“And there’s nothing else you can do?”
“Not unless they get violent or try to break in. I’m sorry.”
She’d been trying for hours to get ahold of Wayne, but had the same problem Stacy had. He wasn’t picking up and his voice mailbox was full.
She went to the bedroom, placed a pillow over her head to drown out the noise, and cried.
Chapter 49
In college towns all over the country, word was getting out.
It typically followed a uniform pattern.
Wayne’s college professor friends read their emails, and then reviewed the USGS data.
Once that was done, they went back and reviewed Wayne’s calculations, hoping to find them flawed.
Most of them knew it was a false hope going in, for they knew Wayne to be meticulous.
But they had to try to poke holes in his work anyway.
They couldn’t just accept it when millions of lives were at stake, no matter how confident they were in his work.
Next, they tried to call the good professor, hoping against hope he’d tell them he was pulling their legs. That he’d manufactured the USGS data himself. That he’d made the whole thing up.
Again, though, they knew better. Wayne had a humorous side. But he’d never pull something like this. Not something on this grand scale, not something which had the potential to harm so many.
It just wasn’t him.
Still, they made that phone call anyway. Some made several calls.
And receiving no answer, they wondered if he’d joined the ranks of the named victims he’d referred to in the email.
Then, greatly distraught and not knowing what else to do, they did as Wayne asked.
They shared the information with their students.
The students, bless their hearts, weren’t even a gleam in their mothers’ eyes when the last American troops left Vietnam.
Everything they knew about the Vietnam War, and the student protests which helped bring about its end, they read in history books.
Many of them couldn’t even find Vietnam on a world map.
Yet without any guidance from experienced protesters, without anyone around to show them the ropes or offer them advice, they made their signs and rounded up their friends and took to the streets.
First on their respective campuses; then at city hall.
The Yellowstone Event (Book 2): A National Disgrace Page 16