by Bobby Akart
*****
A bad earthquake at once destroyed the oldest associations—the world, the very emblem of all that is solid, had moved beneath our feet like a crust over a fluid. One second of time had created in the mind a strong idea of insecurity, which hours of reflection would not have produced.
~ Charles Darwin on the massive 1835 earthquake at Concepcion, Chile
*****
Extinction is the rule. Survival is the exception.
~ Carl Sagan
*****
Our world has ended five times. It’s been fried, and then frozen; gassed with poison; smothered with ash; and bombarded from space. Will it happen again? Most certainly. When? Any time.
~ Author Bobby Akart
Prologue
June 15, 1991
Luzon, Philippines
Flakes of ash began to flutter through the tropical foliage that surrounded the simple block and thatch structure they’d called home for the last year. The roof seemed to sag under the weight as it mixed with the moisture from an early morning shower.
A young girl of seven sat alone quietly in the backseat of a rusted Dodge Ramcharger while her parents frantically ran in and out of the house carrying boxes, clothing, and bottles of water. Her nose was pressed against the window, fascinated by the falling ash, which was now beginning to place a grayish-white coat upon the otherwise lush landscape.
Then she heard it. Another sound blended with the constant reverberation that had pounded the inside of their truck. This was a throaty roar. A growl of a monster clearing its gullet—angry, threatening, and visceral.
Her father stood by the back of the truck and grabbed the rear window latch. He shouted toward the house, “Vera, there’s no more time! It’s time to go!”
He turned the latch on the rear window and opened it. A rush of thick, sooty air filled the inside of the truck. The young girl had never smelled the inside of a factory chimney before, but she was certain this was what it would smell like.
Almost a minute later, her mother arrived at the back of the truck wearing a backpack and carrying a pile of blankets and pillows, which she stuffed inside the rear window. As the ground shook again, her parents scrambled to get in the truck, and within seconds, they were racing down the mountain toward the road.
“Which way?” Her mother looked frantically in both directions. Their visibility was minimal at best as the thick ash began to cover the palm-tree canopy of the mountainous road. “Toward the river and away, away from this!”
Her father floored the gas pedal and whipped the wheel to the left, causing the family to be thrown against the right side of the truck. He drove as fast as she’d ever seen him drive, completely disregarding the jolts created by a road full of potholes.
“Look out!” shouted her mother, forcing her father to slam on the brakes. A beach-ball-sized mass of molten rock flew past their windshield and ripped the radio antenna off the hood of the truck.
“Ashby, honey, get down.”
She stared out of the truck in wonder as small fireballs cutting a swath through the flying ash pierced the gray clouds that encompassed their vehicle. She lay down in the backseat for a moment, wanting to hide her eyes from the carnage, but then she sat up again.
I have to see.
Fires had broken out across the landscape, in part from the volcanic bombs flying out of Mount Pinatubo and in part from the lava flow, which began to ooze out of cracks in the rock outcroppings to their left.
The clouds of ash filled the air as Mount Pinatubo entered its full eruptive state. Her father turned the windshield wipers up to full speed as the grayish dust fell like a thick blanket of snow all around them.
“I can barely see!” he shouted as he swerved to avoid a fallen tree. To their left, trees were beginning to lift into the air before dropping over like bowling pins. Behind them, the road was barely visible as a landslide was triggered.
“Casey! You’ve got to hurry!” her mother shouted in fear before catching herself. She looked back to their adorable daughter, who sat wide-eyed at the spectacle.
“Help me watch the road!” Casey shouted as he once again swerved to avoid a falling lava rock from the sky. He glanced into his rearview mirror and muttered, “Not good.”
The road behind them was completely blocked, leaving them only one way to escape the deluge that chased them toward the river.
“There!” shouted Vera.
“I see it!” Casey exclaimed. “Hold on!”
He was almost upon the bridge. Her father clenched the steering wheel with both hands and pressed his face closer to the windshield in a futile attempt to better his field of vision as he accelerated downhill toward a small two-lane bridge and, hopefully, safety.
The mountainside road was under assault from lava bombs crashing all around them. Her mother looked to the left and saw the leading edge of the lava flow, which traveled down the river. Steam rose high into the air as the superheated molten material hit the much cooler water. But the water was no match for the heat of the magma.
Nothing was.
“We’ll never make it!” she shouted, gripping the dashboard to brace for the impact.
Before they could cross the bridge, the bridge supports were crushed under the weight of the debris being carried by the magma flow. Her father jammed on the brakes, causing the truck to fishtail and slide sideways before coming to a halt. It took only half a minute for the bridge to be consumed by the flow, disappear before their eyes, and be carried downriver toward the base of the mountain.
Suddenly, there was a sharp vibration under them as the ground shook from another earthquake. Everyone screamed as the horror of what was happening overtook their souls. Her parents’ attention was focused on the oncoming lava and the lava bombs, which continued to pelt their surroundings, but Ashby wanted to survive.
“Daddy,” she screamed, pointing toward an obscure gravel road to their right, “go that way!”
The asphalt road beneath them began to sag and pull apart. A gap was starting to open up behind the truck and her father had to act. He whipped the wheel to the right and tore off down the gravel road, which ran parallel to the river. They passed home after home with the local Ilocanos standing around, staring skyward in disbelief. The earth could reach up and crush them at any moment.
“We have to help them!” exclaimed her mother.
“No. It’s too late. It might be too late for us!”
The truck ran over a tree that was buried under the fallen ash, causing it to careen off the tight-packed gravel road and throw everyone into the ceiling. Her father regained control and continued away from the mud and lava flow.
Suddenly, the road opened up into a field. Her perspective from the backseat was different from her parents’. Even though devastation surrounded them, she saw everything in slow motion. As they entered the open field, the air had curiously cleared, and she thought they were safe for the time being. Her father drove across the open field, looking for the continuation of the gravel road, but there was none. Frantically, he drove through the tall grass searching for an exit. They had reached a dead end.
“What do we do now?” asked her mother, tears streaming down her face. She had lost her composure and was beginning to lose hope.
“Get out of the car! We’ll keep running—” said her father as he opened his door. The intense heat that entered the truck forced him to pull the door closed.
The fire, which swiftly engulfed the small clearing, caught them all by surprise. They were surrounded as the forest burst into an inferno, blocking their escape downriver on three sides, with the approaching lava flow getting closer behind them.
“Mommy, are we gonna die?” she asked calmly as she took in the apocalyptic scene.
Her mother turned around and tried to put on her it’ll be okay face but failed miserably. She reached for her beloved daughter and began to sob. Together, the loving family who’d devoted their lives to the Filipino people were now caught in a r
ing of death as fire and lava closed in on them. There was no way out of the noose that was tightening.
And then Ashby heard it. Another sound blended with the crackling of the fires around them and the rumbling of the earth beneath. It was a deeper, reverberating thumping sound.
Whomp—whomp—whomp.
“Hey, is that—?” Her father’s voice was hopeful as he broke their embrace. In unison, they all exited the truck and ran to the highest point of the field.
The intense heat and ashfall was blurring their vision as they looked skyward. Her father pointed above the flames which danced near the treetops.
“There! It’s a chopper! Do you see it?”
They all began to leap up and down, raising their arms to catch the attention of the helicopter flying toward them. Casey ran to the truck and attempted to climb onto the hood, but immediately slid off due to the thick coat of ash. He removed his shirt and cleared a place on the hood to gain a footing. He scrambled onto the roof and began swinging his shirt wildly back and forth.
“Down here! Hey! Please help us!”
The helicopter never slowed and flew past them toward Mount Pinatubo. The sounds of the rotating blades gradually quietened under the roar of the fire as it disappeared from sight. The family watched and became dejected as it faded into the smoke of the fire, which was raging around them.
Her father collapsed on the hood of the truck and began to wail in grief. “This is my fault. I am so sorry. We waited too long!”
Her mother ran to the side of the truck, pulling Ashby by the hand. The family cried together as they waited for the flames to take them.
Ashby heard it first. The rhythmic thumping had returned.
Whomp—whomp—whomp.
The sound beat steadily, and then the helicopter burst through the smoke as it roared overhead. This time, rather than pass by them, the pilot looped twice, counterclockwise, over the field. It was looking for a place to land.
“Yeah! Yeah! Down here! Oh God, thank you! Thank you!”
The pilot circled closer to the ground. Ashby could see the concerned look on the pilot’s face as the carbon composite rotor blades, exposed to the extreme heat radiating from their surroundings, displaced the smoke temporarily.
The fire had scorched the ground to black. Flames danced in all directions except along the river, where mud, lava, and debris slowly marched downstream, destroying everything in its path.
The pilot steadied the helicopter and then a side door opened. A Filipino soldier dropped a rescue basket out toward them. The stainless-steel mesh carrier was only large enough to pick up one of them at a time. It was attached to a heavy-duty steel cable and a winch.
“Ashby first!” shouted her mother. The noise of the rotors was deafening, and the swirling black smoke around them made visibility difficult.
Her father slid off the hood of the truck and held the basket steady as Ashby crawled in. Just as the basket was lifted off the ground, her mother ran to the truck and grabbed a backpack. She handed it to Ashby and gave her a kiss.
“Hold on tight, my beautiful baby!”
“Mommy, aren’t you coming too?”
“In a minute, baby,” she replied, giving her daughter one last kiss. “Just know that I will be with you always. Your daddy and I will love you forever!”
Ashby nodded as tears began to flow down her soot-covered face. The basket began to rise into the air as the raging fire closed on them. Her parents’ tears of despair changed to nervous laughter as their precious daughter was lifted into the sky.
Without warning, the basket containing Ashby came sinking rapidly toward them. The helicopter’s blades sounded as if they were right above their heads. Debris began to pelt their faces, so they shielded themselves from the constant peppering of their skin.
The basket careened to their right, colliding with the truck, which threw Ashby and the basket into a rapid spin.
Ashby screamed and reached her hands toward her father. “Daddy! Help! I want out!”
“Hold on, honey!”
He reached to steady the basket, but it continued to swirl around, then abruptly rose, followed by a sudden lurch closer to the fire, which was just forty yards from them now. Ashby screamed again. A high-pitched wail as if she had just looked at the devil himself.
The helicopter corrected, and the basket containing Ashby flew over her parents’ outstretched arms one last time before it was lifted skyward.
As the searing heat of the fire reached her parents below, the helicopter rose into the smoky clouds and disappeared, taking a seven-year-old girl with it.
Chapter 1
Present Day
Norris Area
Yellowstone National Park
First, he heard the sound of a low rumble. Faint, deep-rooted in his surroundings, but alarming like the sound of a freight train coming down the tracks of a long, narrow tunnel. The dark smoke blurred his vision, complicating an already dangerous situation. As the noise grew louder, reverberating off the canyon wall, he turned in circles, confused as to the location of the menacing sound.
“Jesus,” he mumbled, not sure if he was asking for guidance or drawing attention to what he saw.
The far side of the ravine had exploded with fire. A blossoming mushroom cloud of fire and smoke poured up in a deadly column of destruction into the sky. Drawing in the oxygen from all around it, the fire swirled and twisted, like a tornado crossing a field in Kansas. At its base, flames shot out in all directions, burning trees in its path as it devoured the landscape.
In his life devoted to the outdoors, he’d never seen anything containing such raw, stark power.
Yet.
Whirlwinds of fire ripped through the forest, shredding treetops and devouring underbrush. Watching the spectacle was mesmerizing and exhilarating at the same time. Then the crashing of a tree behind him followed by shouts reminded him of the menacing threat to his life.
His heart was pounding out of his chest when he heard heavy footsteps approaching in a rush, so he instinctively stood to the side of the trail to avoid being trampled. Fighting fires was not his job, but it was all hands on deck as Yellowstone National Park, which he’d called home for years, succumbed to this blazing inferno from hell.
“Run!” was the word of the moment, as several firefighters brushed past him and headed downhill toward a stream. Billows of agitated smoke banked down the side of the mountain like the shaking of a black velvet curtain, the sheets of the dark clouds rolling and folding as they approached. He sensed they were losing the fight.
The flames were moving toward them, moving so fast, eating up brush and the pine forest in its path. The fire shot through the forest horizontally as it chased the firefighters off the mountain. Burning embers flew through the air, lighting up spot fires across the man-made trail they’d built to start the construction of their fire wall.
The sound was deafening, like a huge mountain lion roaring from behind him. Panic began to shoot through his brain as the air seemed to catch fire. The burning mixture of pine needles and twigs began to fall around him, which brought him back to the present.
He chased after the group who, despite their heavier gear, were either in better shape than he was or, based upon their past experiences, more frightened. Momentarily, they reached a clearing, a pocket of relatively clean air, which allowed him to take a deep breath. That was when it hit him.
A dense and oily blast of smoke-filled wind smacked him in the back, knocking him to the ground. It was heavy, carrying the weight of hot and sticky tar as it blasted through the air. He turned around to see what hit him, but that wasn’t what caught his eye.
It was something he’d never forget. Despite a dirty film covering the protective facemask he was wearing that obscured his view, he saw an orange glow appear along the rocky cliffs of the mountain. Through the haze, he could see the blob dim and then suddenly glow brighter, as if it were breathing.
The large oddly shaped ember, or whatever
it was, appeared to be growing. He couldn’t be sure because it was too far away to make out its true shape or size.
But I have to know.
Bewildered, he rubbed the soot off his face mask and unconsciously stepped toward the otherworldly sight. As the smoke danced and swirled across the ground, he strained to focus as he sought the exact location of the radiating orange color.
There! There you are.
Ignoring the flames that approached from his left, he walked up the black, scorched forest floor in a trance. He never once blinked as the glow reappeared.
How far away is it?
Like an enormous magnet, he was drawn closer to the source. He just couldn’t rely upon his eyes through the murky cloud of smoke. He would trust his skin. The glow was putting off heat. A hotness that far surpassed the forest burning around him. The glow might have been a hundred feet away, but it became scorching as he approached.
He lost his footing, slipping on a still-smoldering tree limb, but he continued undeterred. Eighty feet. Seventy feet. The intensity of the heat continued to climb as the pulsating glow began to stabilize. He tried to estimate the temperature based upon what the firefighters had told him to expect. One hundred thirty degrees. Maybe one hundred fifty.
No, this glowing thing, whatever it was, surpassed any burning fire. It was extreme. Its severity caused everything around it to melt.
Sixty feet. Fifty feet. Am I too close?
He crawled on all fours now, pushing through debris and charred soil. None of that mattered. He had to see. Forty feet. Thirty feet.
It’s hissing. He immediately stopped. It was warning him away. The glow became brighter and the fizzle sound grew louder with each hesitant yard he advanced. Despite the threat, his mind willed his body forward.
He rose to his feet and leaned toward the monster, which was only twenty feet away. He attempted in vain to swipe the smoke-filled air out of his line of sight. He knew it was time to go, but the constant hissing held him in a trance.