by Ellis, Tara
The plume of ash was like something she’d never seen. It took up an impossibly large portion of the horizon and extended into the upper atmosphere. Peta guessed it was around five thirty, so close to sunset. The lowering sun, filtered through the spreading ash, was a surreal painting of intense color outlining the impenetrable, dark plume.
If anyone had been around to witness the impact of the asteroid that created the multi-ringed Vredefort crater two billion years earlier, Peta imagined the mushroom cloud of debris would have looked something like the show they had a front-row seat to.
The sheer scale was hard to comprehend, even though she was staring right at it. Peta was a scientist. One with several degrees in fields that made her knowledgeable in both what she was observing and what it took to create it. In spite of all of that, she was speechless. And in awe… a fearful awe in the knowledge of what it could mean. The resulting impacts would be multi-layered and widespread. Given that they were also dealing with a rather unknown mechanism, it made it impossible to accurately predict what it all might eventually be.
Her tongue stuck against the roof of her already dry mouth and Peta struggled to find any words. The questions that had been piling up for the soldier were lost to her in that moment of revelation. It was hard to be constructive and focus on what mattered, because she honestly wasn’t sure anymore.
“We got through to Diego Garcia,” Rogers said without any further preamble. “We’re to land at the airport on the northern tip of Madagascar for refueling and to pick up a few passengers, then rendezvous with a ship that’s currently moving into position.”
Peta processed the information slowly, finding it hard to concentrate. “How long?”
“Four hours to Madagascar,” the Lieutenant said without hesitation, and Peta remembered he’d already given that estimation before they even left the basement.
Closing her eyes against the distraction outside, Peta tried to pull things back to the basics: survival. First, they had to survive and get off Mauritius. Check. Next, they needed to find a way to get out of that hemisphere. She opened her eyes. “The military is part of a rescue operation, then?”
The silence on the other end of the radio went on for a heartbeat too long. “There isn’t a joint operation, if that’s what you mean,” Hernandez answered. “To be blunt, there aren’t enough survivors capable of getting to an extraction point on their own, which is what’s still required at this point.”
“ICONS had a ship in the area,” Devon said, leveling Peta with a look that was hard to read.
“Big enough to land this thing on?” she asked, failing to come up with her own answers to anything.
“I don’t care where it’s coming from or whose it is,” Lieutenant Rogers said with a mild hint of irritation. “I just know that we’re damned lucky this bird is flying, and the sooner we can get out of this part of the world, the better.”
“Agreed.” Peta’s voice was sharp and she turned to look at the Lieutenant in the open cockpit when she said it. She was right in her assumption that he was staring at her, and she punctuated the comment with a nod of her head, although it caused a fresh blossom of pain. “Thank you for helping us. We owe you our lives.”
When the soldier offered Peta a brief smile before turning back, she pulled the headset off and motioned for Devon to do the same.
His shoulders slumped before she even got a word out and he raised a hand to cut her off. “Look. I know there’s no love lost between you and ICONS, Dr. Kelly. But I think it’s safe to say that what’s going on right now is bigger than that.”
Peta’s nose screwed up in reaction to what she considered several insults. “First, I think you should start calling me Peta, because we are so far past formalities that it sounds ridiculous.” The look of surprise on the young man’s face was enough to help her relax a little for the first time since she woke up. “Second, my unease has nothing to do with my personal opinion of that organization. It stems from something a lot deeper, Devon. Henry was a narcissist of the highest order, but he was also brilliant and had a way of seeing things…patterns, that no one else could. He was on the cusp of something, and it was more than exposing the geology of the MOHO.”
Devon looked thoughtful. “What was it?”
“I don’t know.” Peta looked back out the door, her view limited again to the ocean’s horizon to the northeast. “But he didn’t trust the leaders of ICONS, and he went out of his way to hide what he was studying from them. Even from me. It was big enough that it prompted him to take a risk that cost him his life.”
The Sea King hit a pocket of turbulence, jostling Peta and Devon so that it reminded her of the aftershocks on the island. It seemed they were destined to be on the run from forces they couldn’t control, and she wondered if they were headed for yet another one.
Henry’s last words came to her then, and Peta’s tired, traumatized mind clawed at the memory. She knew it was important. Why was it important?
It’s happening, Peta.
She could hear his voice, shaking with terror. There was more, though. What else had he said, right at the end?
Remember Fossil Island.
Fossil Island. It was an undersea, prehistoric beach found during earlier drilling attempts along the Atlantis Bank, near where the successful MOHO breach ultimately occurred. When Dr. Henry Crane originally reached out to Peta to join his team and study the submarine volcano, he’d set up a private Cloud file for them to exchange information. Though a chance of a lifetime, it had taken some coaxing to lure Peta away from her comfortable, academically safe position with the Ocean Exploration Program. The password for the file was Fossil Island and she hadn’t even thought of it for almost a year.
Peta’s eyes widened and her breath caught. Henry’s final words had been a message to her. A plea.
In the midst of all the chaos, and an event that would forever change the world, Peta had an objective. A reason to keep pushing forward other than to save her own, somewhat lonely and pointless life.
She was going to find out what Henry died for.
Chapter 17
JASON
Seattle, Washington
It was already the longest day of Jason’s life, and it wasn’t even nine thirty in the morning. Holding his watch up close to his face, he stared at the digital numbers for a moment. It took much longer to do the math than it should have, and Jason knew that in spite of how cool and mechanical he came off on the outside, his mind was still in a tailspin.
Someone could have told him the past two hours had been either thirty minutes or a whole day, and he would have accepted either report. Time took on a different meaning when you were in the midst of something your brain couldn’t define and process. Jason experienced the phenomenon twice before in Iraq and he didn’t try to make sense of it. It didn’t matter.
“Here, use this.”
Jason turned to see the young man he’d sent in search of something for leverage, holding a piece of rebar. “Perfect.” Accepting the makeshift tool, he adjusted his backpack to get it cinched down, before ramming the metal rod into the gap in the concrete near his feet.
“Hold still, Megan!” the guy shouted near Jason’s elbow.
Jason wasn’t sure what the relationship was between the two. They could be newlyweds or total strangers who met under the rubble. Again, details that didn’t matter. His only objective was to get her out and then move on to the next person as he continued to make his way to Harborview.
Straining, Jason threw all of his weight onto the rebar, and was rewarded by the block of broken concrete lifting three inches. It would have to be enough. “Now!” he shouted through gritted teeth. “Grab her anyway you can and pull her out.”
Under different circumstances, Jason would never move a trauma patient without first assessing them and taking spinal precautions. Except it was anything but normal on the streets of Seattle, and everything had been reduced to simply life or death. Help wasn’t coming anytime soon and
with the strength of the continuing aftershocks, any unstable structures could collapse.
It was surprising how well the newer buildings had withstood the earthquake. Jason suspected the rocky composition of the hill changed how the energy moved through it, in comparison to the sandy soil around Lake Washington. He’d traveled less than two miles, but it clearly made a big difference.
The problem was that while there were plenty of new building projects always in the works, the area was mostly comprised of older and historic buildings. He’d first passed through the largely residential Central District. The smaller houses, though damaged, were for the most part still intact. Anything larger than one story or made of bricks was less likely to remain standing. The worst of it appeared to be to the roads and infrastructure. Buckled concrete, downed power lines, and ruptured water mains created what looked like a war-ravaged battlefield.
Once Jason got to the business district of First Hill, the risk from crumbling concrete and complete structural failure increased. The assorted jumble of historic buildings, high-rise apartments, and hospitals made it a maze of destruction to navigate. Even if he’d managed to get his bike, it would have been impossible to get anywhere with it.
Time.
Jason shook his head, realizing he’d lost track again. How long had he been pressing against the rebar?
“I’ve got you!” The guy had taken hold of a foot and was starting to drag the moaning girl through the dirt and debris, out from under some sort of façade that fell from the front of the museum. It might have been a giant letter E.
“Can you walk?” Jason knew he sounded cold and indifferent. Just like so many other things at that moment, it simply didn’t matter. He couldn’t do much for her out there on the street. They had to get to the hospital, which was less than two blocks away.
Marty wiggled in between the men and the woman who’d managed to get into a sitting position, and was doing her best to self-brace an obviously broken left arm. Whimpering softly, the dog licked her face once and then sat on his haunches, encouraging her to give a positive answer.
“I…I think so,” Megan stammered. Clearing her throat, she looked up at the man who knew her name. “If you can help me stand up?”
Jason moved first, taking her under the right elbow. Based on the way the man fell over himself to take Megan around the waist, he guessed the two were at least friends. Good. Jason was happy to leave the hero-role to the other guy.
“Two blocks, straight ahead,” Jason directed while pointing up the unrecognizable street. “You’ll see the emergency room entrance to Harborview to your right. It should be safe there.”
Not waiting for a confirmation of understanding or thank-you’s, Jason patted his thigh for Marty and began walking. The dog, seemingly satisfied that their task was done, jumped up and trotted after Jason like they were going on a walk the same as any other day. Jason envied his furry friend.
Some yelling from the other side of the street drew his attention, and Jason’s hand automatically slid to the Glock in his shoulder holster. Though he’d gone less than a couple of miles, he was already glad he’d taken the risk to retrieve his pack. It wasn’t even ten yet. Three hours since the quake, and already violence was breaking out among the survivors. There was plenty of death and carnage. Apparently, it wasn’t enough to dissuade some of those left from taking advantage of the lack of power and inability of the police to respond.
Twice, Jason had witnessed looting of businesses left standing. He passed them by without getting involved. So long as it was only property and not people being threatened, he couldn’t take the risk. That wasn’t his objective.
A slow rumble started from far away and quickly grew in volume as Jason leapt over a power pole. Forgetting about the argument, he scrambled into the middle of the cracked remains of Boren Avenue and dropped to his knees. Marty was right there, pushing into him, his body quivering in anticipation. Even the dog had learned in such a short time to fear the waves of energy pulsating through the Earth.
It hadn’t taken very far into his journey to determine the middle of the road was the safest place to be during an aftershock. Most of the power poles and the few trees that grew in the area had already toppled. Unless you were next to a high-rise, the risk of having debris fall on you was much less there.
Though Jason wanted to close his eyes, he forced himself to keep them open. The only way to avoid danger was to see it coming, both from the quake and the people left behind. He had a unique understanding of human nature and would have bet the clothes on his back that by nightfall, the city would be lawless. The pack on his back as well as the gun on his chest already made him a target.
Breathe.
The rolling movement of the ground was something he’d never get used to. It provoked some sort of instinctual reaction he had a hard time controlling. At some deep-rooted center of his being, Jason knew to fear the ancient power and it threatened to paralyze him. All of his training fought against the response, and it resulted in an emotional tug-of-war until the tremors faded.
Fresh outbursts of screams and pleas for help erupted in the wake of the aftershock, and seemed to come from all around him.
Breathe.
His hearing had receded as the fresh surge of adrenaline coursed through his body, unleashed by his inability to stop his fight-or-flight response. Frustrated by his lack of control, Jason took several gulps of air while shaking his hands out and rising to his feet. Focusing on his heartbeat, he force-breathed for several seconds, until it slowed.
The screaming and shouting got louder and as Jason looked around, he became aware of how many people were really out on the sidewalks and streets. He’d been so focused on putting one foot in front of the other, he’d intentionally ignored them. There were dozens visible on that particular stretch of road, and he had to assume there were more inside the undamaged buildings.
Stranded, damaged cars littered the street, adding to what would already be a monumental task to restore any kind of movement in the city. Water flowed down the sloped road, creating miniature waterfalls anywhere there was a crevasse or fracture in the concrete. Steam rose from the manholes, although it was a warm day, indicating some other process coalescing underneath them.
So many people, injured and trapped in a frozen city. Jason began moving again. The hospital would be overrun soon, if it wasn’t already. Even without functioning ambulances, Harborview was the largest of a group of hospitals situated on the hill. Anyone who worked or lived within a walkable distance would know to go there if they needed any kind of medical care.
Seventy-two hours was the standard timeframe to expect external help to reach an area impacted by a natural disaster. Jason figured that in the three hours since the quake, a good portion of Washington would be declared a state of emergency and the local guard activated. FEMA would then follow, but they were historically slow to respond. It could be a couple of days, at a minimum, before any kind of power supply was restored. Water could be brought in by helicopter before the end of the day, but they would need to get on the disaster radio in the communication center at the hospital and set up a command.
The hospital had a command structure in place for just such a situation, and due to Jason’s background, he’d volunteered to be a part of it. Because of his involvement, he knew where certain emergency supplies were and how to get them dispersed. There were thirty people on the safety team, but he couldn’t bet on anyone else being there when the earthquake hit. Even if half of them made it to the hospital, it wouldn’t be enough staff to do it right.
“One foot in front of the other,” Jason muttered. Apparently, he’d said it loud enough for Marty to hear him, because the dog responded by cocking his head at him and offering a small bark of encouragement.
The smile it provoked was enough to make Jason feel better than he had since they’d started the trek two hours before. He jumped over a large break in the concrete and then watched to make sure Marty navigated it sa
fely. He’d had to lift him over several obstacles already and he wasn’t about to lose his dog to an unnecessary injury.
More cries for help echoed around them as they moved in between two trucks and approached the familiar crossroad near the entrance to the hospital. Jason hesitated only briefly before moving on. It would be better to organize some search and rescue teams. They could then do grid searches and triage patients, starting with the blocks nearest to the hospital and working their way out. It was the best way to help the most people in the next critical forty-eight hours. After that, anyone who was trapped and without water would be much less likely to survive. They couldn’t rely on any meaningful outside help before then.
His spirits rose as Jason approached the emergency room entrance and he started to think his plan of action was a feasible way to make an impact. Then a familiar face pushed its way through the half-way open mechanical doors and his smile faded.
“Jason!” Dr. Enders shouted, raising both hands and waving them in the air, like he was afraid Jason would run away from him.
Brian Enders was the head trauma surgeon and a friend. He’d also spent time in the Marines and they had some other common interests, so had shared some beers after a few particularly trying shifts. Jason hardly recognized him.
Blood was smeared across the front of his scrubs, and Brian seemed unaware of the gore on his gloved hands. A large bruise was already forming around the swelling in his left cheek, and his dark hair was matted with what had to be drying blood.
The surgeon stepped around several people milling outside the entrance and even shoved a man aside, leaving maroon handprints on his bare arm. “Man, we can sure use you,” he barked, skipping any pleasantries.
Jason stopped short of him and side-stepped when Brian reached out to clasp his shoulder. “You need to take those off,” Jason said, gesturing to his bloodied hands.