Yellowstone: Inferno: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (The Yellowstone Series Book 2)

by Bobby Akart

  “Kumbaya?”

  “Exactly. Anyway, when they met, they went to class and spent a lot of time camping, hiking, and probably smoking weed. Who knows? Then along came an unexpected bundle of joy. Me.”

  “Good thing, for me, anyway.”

  Ashby gave him a playful slug on the chest. “Well, it did derail their plans to an extent. They finished school and tried their hand at several government jobs, which didn’t suit either of their personalities. One day, when I was four or five, my dad came home with a bunch of literature on Project Hope. The organization did a lot of things, primarily medical related, which was outside my parents’ field of study. But being freebirds, they signed up to help for a nominal amount of pay, which included housing.

  “Their first stop was the Philippines. A typhoon had devastated the islands and completely overwhelmed their medical facilities. My parents packed our bags, and me, and off we went to the remote villages of Capiz and Cebu Province, which had suffered the most damage. After Project Hope’s mission ended, my parents, who’d fallen in love with the Filipino people, elected to stay as part of a small contingent of humanitarian workers and volunteers.

  “Mom taught English to the indigenous people, and my father got a job with the Geological Society of the Philippines. He worked with a team on a shoestring budget to map Mount Pinatubo. They spent their days creating a sixty-mile loop of seismographs and accelerometers around the stratovolcano, which stretched from the Zambales Mountains to the South China Sea.”

  Jake was enjoying the conversation. “In a way, they both got to do what they enjoyed, right?”

  “Yes, and I’m glad for that. We settled in an area near Mount Pinatubo called Central Luzon. For a year, they spent a lot of time with the Ilocano people, which was the third largest ethnic group in the country. I mean, we were very close to them.”

  Ashby paused for a moment and Jake moved to comfort her. He sensed she was getting to the difficult part of her childhood story.

  “Daddy always studied the readings on the newly installed seismic monitoring equipment. Quakes began to shake the region in late March into early April, and then magma was discovered. He tried to warn the government in Manila because I remember he and my mother talking about it after I went to bed at night.

  “One day, he came home early and told my mom about the smell of sulfur dioxide gas being emitted around Pinatubo. He planned on going into Manila to recommend they issue evacuation warnings. Mom insisted we all go together, just in case something happened. My dad learned the other members of his team were in agreement, and warnings were going to be issued that day.

  “When we returned to the house, the situation had changed drastically. Another quake had just struck, the strongest in days. I remember it, Jake. At first, it began as a barely noticeable, gentle swaying of the ground. It was little more than a nudge. Then it gained in intensity before stopping.

  “My parents debated what to do late into the night and, finally, we all fell asleep. I guess it was my mom who woke up first. She said the morning was calm. She heard birds singing, something she hadn’t heard in days. But she had a feeling. She knew it was time to go. Jake, she knew.” Ashby’s voice trailed off.

  Jake attempted to console her. He reached for her hands and gently rubbed them. “Ashby, you have a remarkable memory. I guess the trauma never goes away, does it?”

  “No, but I want it to. I want the last day to be erased from my mind. All I want to recall are the memories of the good times.”

  “What can I do to help? What’s the best way for you to block out those final hours and focus on the positive years with your parents?”

  “My mom and dad kept a journal,” Ashby began to answer and then suddenly released his hands. “Oh no, Jake. My messenger bag. It has my journal in it. It was in the main cabin with us when we crashed.”

  Ashby jumped up and ran toward the cavern entrance. She pulled her particulate mask over her face and came back. “Where’s the flashlight?”

  “Ashby, we can’t go out there tonight. Come here.” Jake approached her and wrapped his arms around her as tears streamed down her face. She tried to wrestle free, but he held onto her.

  “No, I have to find it.”

  “Tomorrow, first thing. I promise. We’ll go together and find it. It would be impossible in the dark and too dangerous. Come back inside and get under the blanket.”

  She turned her head and glanced outside once again, and then her body relaxed. “Jake, I have to find it. It’s all I’ve got left of my parents, except for the memories. And they hurt too much to conjure up. I need their words too.”

  “Tomorrow, Ashby. We can’t have a better tomorrow if we dwell on yesterday.”

  Jake took her face in his hands and kissed her. The two of them had released the demons of the past and could now look toward their future, as uncertain as it was.

  Chapter 20

  Sheep Mountain

  Central Idaho

  “Jake! Jake, wake up!” Ashby shook Jake, who groaned in response. “Aftershocks!”

  Ashby jostled him again. She got up and ran toward the entrance of the cavern. The earth was trembling, but nothing compared to yesterday afternoon’s tremor, which had occurred while Jake was trying to save Rita. Ashby surmised that Yellowstone had erupted again, the fourth of what could be six or seven violent eruptions the caldera would endure before Yellowstone rested for another half-million years or so.

  “Oh, man,” moaned Jake as he emerged from the low-lit cavern. He waddled toward Ashby like an old cowboy who’d ridden one bull too many.

  Ashby laughed. “Are you gonna be all right, old man?”

  “This is brutal.” He lamented the soreness of his muscles. “I’m too old for this. Yesterday was tough on this retired stuntman.”

  Ashby reached for his hand and tugged him into the morning light, such as it was. The ash had accumulated over the evening and was now three to four inches thick. Ashby stopped just short of the opening to look at the odd spectacle.

  “Jake, do you have any idea where we are?”

  Jake thought about retrieving one of his GPS devices, glancing back toward where his backpacks lay, but provided his best guess. “With everything that happened yesterday, I didn’t even think to look. Short answer is, obviously, somewhere in Central Idaho. From what I remember of our speed and travel time, maybe three hundred miles or so west of Yellowstone. Perhaps a little less.”

  “We’re experiencing heavy ash fallout,” began Ashby as she knelt down to get a better perspective. “We’re at, or above, the tree line here. Probably ten thousand feet or more, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Pretty close.”

  “If the fallout is three inches at this elevation on day two, and this far away from Yellowstone, then the magnitude of debris being hurled into the atmosphere is far greater than any of our prediction models could envision.”

  Jake leaned his head out to get a better view. The ash was still falling, albeit it wasn’t in thick flakes like snow. It was barely noticeable, yet it accumulated. Unlike snow, it didn’t melt when it hit the ground. Despite being a sunny morning in June, the ash continued to fall and build upon itself.

  “Hey, we need to get started on our day,” said Jake with a new sense of urgency. “Let’s check on Dusty, change his dressings, and then we’ll go find your messenger bag.”

  Ashby nodded, turned and followed Jake back into the cavern. Their fire was dying down and the fading sunlight was insufficient to warm up their surroundings. The cooling effect of the ash fallout was already being noticed.

  Jake retrieved a packet of Hydrate coconut water from his medical backpack. The freeze-dried mixture of coconut water and Aquamin, which was calcified sea algae, added potassium, electrolytes, and minerals to enhance the hydrating effects of plain water. Jake mixed the packet in the canteen of melted snow and then ripped off a strip of gauze from the roll. He dipped it into the cup and allowed it to soak while he enlisted Ashby’s help.r />
  “We have a lot to talk about today, and our decisions will be based upon our boy Dusty.”

  “When do you think it will be safe to move him?”

  Jake grimaced and shook his head. “Ashby, there’s so much we don’t know about what happened to him internally. Head, neck, and spinal injuries can’t be ruled out, although the safety seating was supposed to prevent that. His broken bones could have caused internal bleeding, especially when we worked on his forearm. My biggest concern, however, is dehydration. The human body begins to shut down when it goes three days without water. In a perfect world, he’d be in a hospital bed connected to an IV.”

  “This was a medical chopper,” interrupted Ashby. “Maybe an IV bag and the, um, needles or whatever are in the tail section.”

  “Exactly, whatever,” added Jake, emphasizing the word. “Do you know how to administer IV fluids? There are different kinds of IV bags, tubing, and needles. What if there are air bubbles in the line that we miss? And where do we stick it in?”

  Ashby responded with a shrug. “The arm, right? In a vein.”

  Jake motioned for her to join Dusty’s side. “Let’s gently elevate the stretcher by propping it against these rocks so his head is slightly above his chest and torso.”

  The two worked together until Dusty was somewhat upright.

  Jake continued. “Again, that’s the problem. I’ve never drawn blood or poked a needle in someone’s veins. We don’t know how much to administer, you know, at what rate of drip or whatever. Hell, Ashby, we could kill him trying to save him.”

  “So what’s plan B?”

  Jake retrieved the canteen containing the Hydrate mixture. He wrung out the gauze pad, leaving only enough moisture to allow a few drops when squeezed. “While he’s knocked out, Dusty is incapable of swallowing on his own. The best we can do is moisten his lips, mouth, and throat with this stuff. The Hydrate has the effect of tripling the hydration benefit of water because of its ingredients. If we take the time to keep his mouth moist, you’d be surprised at how much enters his system.”

  “Very smart,” said Ashby.

  “I used to hike Red Rock Canyon outside Las Vegas when we were filming the TV show. It was extremely dry with no natural water sources. I’d mix Hydrate with the water in my CamelBak hydration pack. It worked way better than commercial drinks like Gatorade or Propel.”

  “Jake, can I try?” Ashby suddenly dropped her chin and welled up in tears. “I wasn’t there for Rita, at least I can take care of Dusty.”

  She scooted closer to Dusty’s head and wiped his hair away from his forehead. She gently touched his face before taking the moistened gauze from Jake. He showed her how to moisten his mouth and provide just enough fluids into Dusty’s throat to keep him from choking. After several minutes, they set the canteen aside and started outside.

  “Crap!” exclaimed Ashby as they stepped into the ash. “Our masks. Jeez, Jake. We cannot forget them, ever.” She turned and jogged back to their gear, where she grabbed the N95s from yesterday. Then she stopped by the medical backpack and pulled out two more. She handed Jake his mask and a spare.

  “Ready?” asked Jake as Ashby adjusted her straps, which had stretched somewhat. She then tied her hair in a ponytail and slipped on a green National Park Service cap she’d found in a backpack. She quickly slipped her ponytail through the opening in the back.

  “How do you like my new cap?” she asked, trying to look cute.

  “Yours? Okay, it is better than those round-brim straw hats they used to try to make me wear. I used to get written up all the time for not wearing mine while on duty. They finally gave up and told me to wear the ball cap style.”

  “Well, I like it. Besides, it will keep the ash off our faces. We need to find you another one.”

  Jake nodded and led the way into the blowing debris. He pointed them in the direction of Dusty’s wreckage, observing that most of the debris would have fallen between there and the tail section. By backtracking up the side of the mountain, they’d find what they could and accumulate it under a hemlock tree in a central location.

  For the next two hours, they systematically worked their way up the gently sloped ridge, picking up anything that might be useful. Their first find, which caused Ashby to get emotional, was Dusty’s khaki-colored boonie hat.

  She shook off the ash and snow, promptly returned the NPS hat to Jake, and affixed the boonie hat to her head, pulling the drawstring tight to prevent the steady wind from blowing it off her head. Dusty had worn this same hat for as long as she’d known him. Signs of wear and tear around the frayed brim were a reminder of how important it was to him. He’d be thrilled that she found it.

  They found bits and pieces of the helicopter throughout the debris field, especially in the area where the massive rotor blades were impaled in the ground. Jake and Ashby gave the assembly a wide berth because the wind was causing the blades to waver.

  When they found the other half of the Sikorsky’s cabin, they spent a lot of time looking for the messenger bag. Finally, Jake spotted it hanging from a tree limb. Like a bear trying to shake loose a critter, he shook the pine until the bag fell through the branches into Ashby’s arms.

  This was yet another emotional moment for her as she tightly clutched the bag in her arms. Her life was in that bag. Besides her journal, years of scientific research was contained on her laptop. At some point, when things settled down, Ashby wanted to make copious notes about her experiences in those final hours at Yellowstone and thereafter. She’d witnessed the unimaginable and was anxious to share the events with the scientific community.

  Finally, they arrived at the tail section. Jake had already retrieved his personal effects, like the backpacks and weapons bag. He helped load up the gear stowed by Ashby and the others. They found some bottles of water, MRE bars, and medical supplies that would be useful.

  Jake also found the emergency flare kit. He didn’t have much hope of success, but he’d begin signaling for help upon their return to the cavern. He remembered the pilots issuing distress calls during the descent. Undoubtedly, the National Guard and any military assets had their hands full, but if they did dispatch a rescue crew, he wanted to let them know where the group was.

  They returned to the cavern with their arms full, but at least they were sure they’d found everything of survival value. After Jake dropped the gear and Ashby undertook to sort it out, he set off flares outside the cavern entrance. Visibility was getting worse, but he had to try.

  Now, they waited.

  Chapter 21

  Sheep Mountain

  Central Idaho

  After another temblor shook Sheep Mountain, Ashby and Jake assessed their safety within the cave. Thus far, nothing indicated the cavern was at risk of collapsing from the continuous eruption of Yellowstone and its ancillary impact upon the Northern Rockies. While they cared for Dusty and shared an MRE of macaroni and cheese mixed with bacon bits, Jake encouraged Ashby to discuss what was happening at Yellowstone and how long these eruption-induced earthquakes would continue.

  “It will be impossible to quantify the destruction this early in the process,” Ashby began, happy to distract her mind from Rita’s death. She knew bottling up her emotions wasn’t the proper thing to do from a psychologist’s point of view, but it was working for the time being. “Every piece of scientific equipment would have been obliterated with the Norris blast. However, the real-time measurements were transmitted all over the world until the moment of equipment failure.”

  “You guys always talked about these volcanic eruptions in terms of VEI. Is there any doubt this was a VEI 8?”

  Ashby raised her eyebrows and grinned. “Maybe larger. Here’s the thing. Everything is based on years of geologic study. Huckleberry Ridge, which was just over two million years ago, is the standard upon which all super eruptions are judged. Based upon the geologic evidence, that eruption lasted five to nine days, and a thousand cubic kilometers of magma was ejected. Imagine Delaware bl
owing sky high. That’s Huckleberry Ridge.”

  “And you think this might be larger?”

  “Based upon the ashfall we’ve witnessed so far, yes. A lot of that depends on where we are in relation to the caldera.”

  Jake hopped to his feet and went to his backpack. He reached into an outer pocket and retrieved his Garmin GPS handheld device. He powered it on but was having trouble connecting to a satellite.

  “Hang on,” he muttered while he jogged to the cavern’s entrance.

  While he checked their location, Ashby removed the boonie cap and placed it on Dusty’s head. “Here ya go, buddy. This’ll help keep your head warm too.”

  Jake quickly returned. “Sheep Mountain. Well, one of several in Idaho, it appears.” Jake held up the topographical map for Ashby to see.

  “We’re not near anything,” Ashby observed. “How far did we travel?”

  “A little over two hundred miles. Not as far as I thought.”

  “Not far enough,” added Ashby. “At two hundred miles, we’d be in the kill zone, where everything gets buried by three feet of ash or more. Based upon forecast models, the second zone would stretch toward our position, leaving low-lying areas in two to three feet of ash.”

  Jake continued to press buttons on the Garmin, periodically walking toward the front of the cavern to get a signal, until he found what he was looking for. Finally, Ashby stood and led him back to the opening, where he could maintain a connection.

  “Ashby, there’s a hospital nearby. Well, not exactly near, but I found one. It’s more like an outpatient clinic, but it’s something.” He showed her the display.

  “Challis?”

  “Yes. It’s about thirty miles due east of our position.”

  “We can handle a thirty-mile hike.”

  Jake raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “It’s not the distance that creates the difficulty. It’s the terrain and drop. We’re at ten-two. Challis is at fifty-three hundred feet. Plus, we can’t take a straight route, you know, as the proverbial crow flies. Our route is dictated by the terrain. Seriously, a thirty-mile walk, which you and I could do in a long day if we had to, might take three or four days because we have to carry Dusty, our gear, and travel through treacherous terrain.”