“I will.” Gene disconnected the call and pulled a tablet forward to look for the telephone numbers he had for the pilots on those flights. “They just have to be quick. We don’t know when they’ll erupt again.”
“While you’re making phone calls,” Wiley said. “I think I have good news for your friend.”
Gene gave him his attention. “What’s that.”
Wiley indicated to the readings. “Look at Salt Lake City.”
<><><><>
Flight 3430
Delaney heard the crunching of the plastic cup and with it, the smell of alcohol. Whiskey maybe. She didn’t know if it was that strong of an odor or if she suddenly developed a keen sense of smell.
It had to be the former, because every sense in her body felt dulled, lost in her heartache.
She could barely see the screen to her phone. And while a part of her didn’t want to waste the battery, the other part was in denial that anything was actually really happening. She had tried to call not only her husband, but mother, brother, friends.
No one answered.
That didn’t include the dozens of text messages.
She went on social media, trying to see posts.
If it was true, if indeed whatever happened below took her family’s life, then they needed to just open the door for her so she could jump out.
Her hands shook, her heart pounded. Crying quietly she tried to stifle the sound of her sluggish nose.
She saw the female flight attendant walking the aisle, checking on passengers. She said nothing, just looked.
“Excuse me,” Delaney called her attention. “Is it possible to get a drink?”
“No, ma’am, we are conserving all beverages.”
“No. no, I’m talking alcohol. I know it’s early, I can’t stop shaking, I can’t,” Delaney said.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, we can’t. We may land and have to go back in the air, we have to ration everything. I understand, I do, everyone is feeling the same way. Right now, we can’t. I promise, the second I’m allowed, I will find you.”
Delaney couldn’t help it, she released a sob while trying to thank the attendant.
It was crushing.
The scientist talked about a town called Hardin, where everyone died. He didn’t say that was happening below, only that it was dangerous. He didn’t even allude to everyone dying. Maybe, just maybe, her children were fine. She couldn’t image them suffering. Seven minutes was how long it took for the town of Hardin to die. Seven minutes didn’t seem too long, but to not be able to breathe or whatever it was that caused death, seven minutes of suffering was a lifetime.
Despite how hard she tried, Delaney couldn’t stop crying.
The guy in the seat behind her stood next to her, reaching into the overhead bin.
Delaney brought her fist to under her nose and turned her head.
She wished he’d sit down. He was making her even more nervous, getting something from the bag. Why wasn’t the flight attendant saying anything to him?
At that second, Delaney learned an instant lesson.
Quit judging people.
“Here,” he said, handing her one of those little airline size bottles of booze.
She looked at it, then up to him and again, burst into tears.
“Hey, come on, it’s not even the good stuff.”
“I’m sorry. I am.” She took the bottle. “Thank you. Are you sure?”
“Positive.” He crouched down in the aisle to be at her eye level. “I have seven more.” He held up a plastic bag.
“Seven?” She tried and tried but couldn’t undo the lid. “I thought the limit was six.”
“They’re little. I fit eight in here.” He took the booze from her, uncapped it and handed it back. “Hope it helps.”
“I don’t drink, so I think it will.” She sniffled.
“Gabe.” He extended his hand.
“Delaney or Laney. And again, I am sorry for being mean. Especially now that you’re being nice.”
“It’s the circumstances.” He cracked a smile. “Do you need someone to talk to?”
She nodded.
“I’ll get my dad to switch seats with me and you can sit between me and my brother.” He looked over his shoulder. “Dad …”
“Say no more.” His father stood, staring at his tablet as if reading and took Gabe’s seat.
Delaney dropped her voice to a whisper. “The flight attendant is going to yell. She did before.”
“That’s before we knew what was going on. Come on.” Gabe stepped into the aisle, allowing her to pass and take the middle seat. “My brother Owen.”
“Delaney,” she introduced herself and sat. She brought the tiny bottle to her mouth and took a sip. “Thank you for sharing this.”
Owen looked over her to Gabe. “You brought your own booze?”
“I didn’t know if they were serving this early.”
Owen eyed the baggy Gabe held. “Jesus, Gabe, don’t let Dad see that bag.”
“I’m right here,” his father said. “I may be reading, but I see the bag.”
Delaney sniffed again and nervously chuckled. “This is helping.”
“Is it? Gabe asked.
“No.” She shook her head. “I can’t stop shaking, my whole body is trembling. I’m trying so hard not to think about my children or husband, but it’s hard.”
“Hey, I know,” Gabe said. “I can’t stop thinking about my mom or my girlfriend.” His head quickly turned when he heard a slight grumble come from his father. “Dad, really?”
“I’m sorry, it’s habit,” his father said. “It’s reactionary when you say her name.”
“I didn’t say her name. And right now, with all that’s happening, everyone below us is probably dead …”
Delaney gasped.
“Way to go, Gabe,” Owen said. “Way to comfort your new seat mate.”
Gabe cringed. “I’m sorry. But we don’t know. We don’t know where it happened. We don’t know details.”
“You’re so calm.” Delaney sipped her bottle. “How are you doing that?”
“Obviously.” Owen said. “He self-medicated.”
“You know …” The father placed his tablet on his lap and turned toward them. “I’m Tom by the way.”
Delaney nodded her acknowledgement.
“As a parent myself,” Tom said. “I can tell you a way of thinking that helps. All the worrying in the world, all the fretting, isn’t going to make something not happen. You can play it in your mind, pray a million prayers and worry yourself sick, it won’t change what is out of your control. At least I subscribe to that thinking.”
“Oh my God,” Owen nearly squealed. “When? When did you ever subscribe to that way of thinking? Obviously it was before Gabe went bad boy down stripper lane.”
“Guys,” Gabe said.
“A million texts, Gabe,” Owen said. “Tons. Every night. He worried sick about you. Worried you would die or get arrested. No, wait, we all prayed you’d get arrested because at least we knew you were going to be safe for a night.”
“Where is this coming from?” Gabe asked. “Right now, you’re bringing this up.”
“We’re scared,” Delaney said. “Whether we show it or not, we’re all scared, that’s why. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t say anything.”
Gabe, Delaney and Owen all looked when there was a vibrating buzz sound halting the conversation.
Tom jumped a little in his seat and fumbled for his phone. He looked at it. “It’s Gene. It’s a text.” He maneuvered his phone, then stood.
“Dad?” Owen asked. “What’s going on?”
“I’m going to see the pilot.” He lifted his phone. “We have a place to land.”
<><><><>
Tom saw the faces of the passengers on the plane as he returned to his seat, they all looked at him as he passed, all of them knowing he had information. If it were up to Tom, he’d keep them informed, update them as much as he could and try to orga
nize people. Put those scared with those who were brave.
Like Gabe did with the woman, Delaney. Although Tom wasn’t convinced his sons were helping her much. With all the worrying she had going on in her mind, he doubted anything but knowing the fate of her family would help.
He returned to his seat, or rather Gabe’s original seat and sat down with an exhale.
“Well?” Owen asked. “Are you going to tell us anything? You just kind of gave us a cliff hanger and walked off.”
Tom’s response was to point to the front of the plane.
The pilot emerged for the first time.
He held the PA system microphone. “If I can have everyone’s attention please.”
The mumbling of voices calmed down and the plane grew silent.
“Three and a half hours ago, seven AM Vegas time, there was a major spike in seismic activity around the Vegas area resulting in … well, what has happened all over. Methane levels rose and oxygen concentration in the air dropped. Creating a deadly combination. Folks, we literally just missed that. We are fortunate. At this time, levels have just started falling. They aren’t where we need them. Not yet. Dr. Taylor believes they will be. Now we have one hour and forty-five minutes of fuel left. That is taking into consideration that once we land we’ll need to taxi near a fuel truck. According to Taylor, levels are bouncing all over the place. If it’s safe it may not be for long. Again, here is our conundrum. Just under two hours of fuel. We can circle Vegas, hope the levels drop safely enough in time for us to land and refuel. If we do that, and the levels drop, we are afforded more time to refuel, perhaps even restock. Or … or …we head to Salt Lake City. We have enough fuel to get there. The levels will be safe, but here’s the deal, they won’t stay that way. Salt Lake City is one of the places where Dr. Taylor has a substation so the readings are accurate, however, the subterranean levels are rising, which is indictive of another explosion. We go, we land, get in, get fuel and get out. I’d like nothing more than to keep circling Vegas, but no pun intended that’s not a gamble I’m willing to take.”
There was a moment of silence and a gentleman spoke up. “So we’re headed to Salt Lake, then.”
The pilot nodded. “We are. We have to be fast. I don’t have a time frame for the next eruption, but Dr. Taylor believes we have enough time to refuel. But I need help. We need someone to go with my copilot, leave through the cargo and get to the refuel truck. If you have any experience in this, please, we need your help. Every minute counts.”
Tom knew.
He knew before it happened. He didn’t even need to see it.
Gabe’s hand went up without hesitation.
His son volunteered.
EIGHT – COUNT DOWN
Kearns, UT
A fire was something Gary Nealy never thought would actually save his life.
The entire reason he became a volunteer firefighter was because of his childhood fear of fire. He would lie in bed at night worried about it, what would happen, would his family get out. How could he help them? His obsession didn’t develop out of thin air. When he was in second grade, his friend’s trailer home burned down. The family escaped unharmed, but they lost everything.
So, when he turned eighteen, many years earlier, he volunteered to be a fireman in the suburb of Salt Lake City.
Gary was one of three firefighters that answered the call that morning.
He knew why.
He knew the other firefighters, like many across the country were engrossed with the catastrophes unfolding across the globe. No one would say what they were or why they were happening.
He lived by a corner market and saw how many people rushed there to panic shop. Car horns beeped, people yelled and panicked over some sort of event that didn’t have a name or even pictures.
The Salt Lake local news anchor only seemed to announce major cities that were off the grid, no response at all.
They were advising everyone to stay inside, stay indoors until the threat had passed.
What was the threat? No one was saying anything specific. Some speculated they were volcanic eruptions, shift of tectonic plates causing quakes in cities that didn’t normally experience earthquakes.
He was certain as the day progressed, he’d learn more.
Gary’s phone went off and he pulled himself away from the television and computer, jumped in his truck and hurried to the station.
When he arrived, no one was there. He suited up, grabbed the gear and started prepping the truck. Charlie showed up, along with Stan.
“Where is everyone?” Gary asked.
“Watching the news,” Stan replied. “Maybe they know it’s a vacant house.”
“Yeah, well it can still spread,” Gary said, shaking his head.
The fire wasn’t far from them. Three blocks. Gary could even see the smoke from it in the distance.
They opened the doors, pulled out the truck and not a block down the street they came to a dead stop.
Traffic blocked the road, it was jammed.
Charlie beeped the horn on the truck as if it would suddenly make people move, but there was nowhere for them to move.
Gary stepped off the back of the truck into the street to gauge how far things were backed up. He watched people break in and loot the Pizza Hut, racing out with cans of sauce and sodas.
Were they insane?
He knew they weren’t going anywhere. They’d have to radio another station to handle the call. Just as he walked toward the front of the fire truck to talk to Charlie, he felt the slight rumble beneath his feet.
In that split second, his mind flashed to the news and the reporting of it possibly being a plague of earthquakes. But before he could fully register it in his mind, it was the loudest ‘boom’ Gary had ever heard. Not only was it loud, it shook the ground so much, that Gary teetered in his stance.
One shake, no more, it wasn’t an earthquake.
People screamed and ran, then Gary saw it.
In the distance, but directly ahead, right where the smoke from the fire once was, he watched what looked like rock and dirt shoot to the sky, like a geyser of earth instead of steam.
Did the fire cause an explosion?
But he knew exactly what it was when suddenly that fountain of soil ignited. Not only did the flames shoot straight to the clouds, a huge fireball formed, rolling across the sky.
Gas. It had to be some sort of gas. When it emitted violently from the ground, the flames from the nearby fire caused it to explode.
Gary dove for the ground behind the truck.
He felt the heat from the fire as it blasted above him. It didn’t last, it was fast and violent like when oxygen ignited.
As Gary reached to put on his Self Contained Breathing Apparatus, he felt it in his chest. The inability to inhale or exhale. Every ounce of air was sucked out. He watched a woman stagger, reaching out. Gary put on his mask. First rule, he couldn’t help others if he couldn’t help himself.
He wheezed in relief as he took in the air, then stood. He secured his mask tightly, grabbed another tank from the side of the truck, and ran to the front.
People fell to the ground, one by one, left and right, quickly.
He opened up the driver’s door and Charlie dropped right out.
Gary instantly put the mask on Charlie.
“Breathe, Charlie, breathe.” He shook him, but Charlie was gone, he was wasting the oxygen on him.
Gently he rested him back on the ground and looked for Stan. Surely Stan had on his SCBA. But on the other side of the truck, Stan lay on the road.
Gary stood there, feeling helpless, holding in his hand an apparatus that could save someone’s life. He looked. He looked for anyone that maybe still had life in them. He was overwhelmed, anxious and confused. He tried his hardest to think clearly, but it was all too much.
Gary watched the world around him just die and there was nothing he could do.
After running up and down the block, looking in buildings, he g
ave up. Exhausted, heartbroken and scared, Gary plopped down on the sidewalk.
They called it a ‘sniffer’ and every fire department had one on the truck. It took the warning alarm on his tank to snap Gary from his near catatonic state of despair to remember it. He sought out another tank but wouldn’t change it until he was on his last drop of oxygen. The way that people just died told him not only was there no oxygen in the air, there had to be some sort of release of a deadly gas.
The sniffer, a handheld gas detector confirmed that.
He wasn’t just getting high level readings, he was getting readings too high for the instrument to register correctly.
It was methane.
It was time for Gary to venture out. To see the site of the eruption. He waited until he changed his cylinder then sought out a means of transportation.
He needed only to walk a block before he found a truck. A fender bender was the cause of the traffic jam, beyond that the street was nearly clear.
The truck door was open, ignition off and the keys inside.
A man holding a phone, lay on the ground to the side of the open door. The front end was dented, but the truck was drivable.
He made several trips from the fire truck to the pick up, taking all nine remaining cylinders of oxygen, that was all he had. If he set it low, he could get about eight hours out of it.
Gary would have to think about what he would do if the levels lasted beyond that. He hoped not and also banked on the knowledge that the gas would dissipate. It obviously wasn’t still blasting from the eruption zone or flames would still be shooting upward.
He checked the sniffer constantly. It didn’t take him long to find the eruption site.
The flash fire from the combustion, flames quickly extinguishing because of the lack of oxygen in the air, rubble, stones, and it covered the street. A bread crumb trail all leading to the large mound of rock and debris that encircled a hole in the ground nearly the size of a half a city block.
Gary stood in awe, carefully climbing the debris to look inside. The last thing he wanted to do was fall and get hurt.
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