Cataclysm

by Tim Washburn

  Barlow growls. “There’s a lot you don’t know to be the scientist-in-charge. Especially since you’re ensconced in your office out there in California. I’m here on the ground with tens of thousands of people scattered throughout the park. What I need are some concrete answers.”

  “Ralph, the situation is fluid. We don’t have any certain answers. But, I believe the chances of the caldera erupting are slim.”

  “Slim enough that you want to fly out here today for a park visit?”

  CHAPTER 14

  University Seismic Observation Lab

  Another round of groans courses across the room as Josh Tolbert sits at a desk, the phone pinched between his shoulder and chin, awaiting a response from NASA. He glances at the video screen that displays a series of colored lines, a different color for every fifteen-minute segment, and sees a large flare of red from the recent quake. The red smudge is larger than anything else on the screen and looks more like a toddler’s angry scribbling than the results of a scientific instrument. Josh scans to the top of the screen and winces. The reporting station is a borehole seismometer located at the western edge of Yellowstone Lake. With over thirty seismometers located in and around Yellowstone there are red squiggles on all eight video displays.

  Frustrated, he doodles an erupting volcano on a scrap of paper until, finally, a voice sounds on the line. After explaining the situation and waiting for the reply, he shouts, “You could have told me that twenty minutes ago.” Josh slams the phone down and stands.

  The lab is hot and stuffy with the body heat from too many overstimulated scientists. Josh wipes the sweat from his brow as he weaves his way through the crowd, stopping next to Dr. Snider.

  “Professor, I finally got through to someone at NASA.”

  “About time, Josh. What did they say?”

  “Bad news. Terra will make another pass”—he glances at the digital watch on his wrist—“around 18:45. But they’re in the midst of doing a software upgrade on the ASTER system.”

  Snider sighs. “And the good news just keeps coming. When is the update supposed to be completed?”

  “Overnight. They think they’ll be able to shoot some thermal images of the caldera tomorrow morning.”

  Snider rakes his hand across his face. “Let’s just hope we’re around tomorrow to see them.”

  Josh’s eyes widen with surprise. “Why . . . why wouldn’t we be here?”

  “If these earthquakes continue to increase in intensity, who knows what might happen?”

  An ember ignites in Josh’s gut. “Do you really think the volcano could erupt?”

  Snider places a hand on Josh’s shoulder. “We’re a long way from worrying about a volcanic eruption.”

  “Would there be other signs of an impending eruption? Or just more earthquakes?”

  “We don’t know for sure. Hell, the thing could spontaneously erupt if there’s an infusion of magma. That’s why I want some thermal images of the park. If you’ll excuse me, Josh, I need to makes some more calls.”

  As Professor Snider steps away, Josh pulls out his cell phone and sits. He punches the first speed dial. “C’mon, answer,” he mutters as his leg jackhammers up and down. Josh mutters a string of curse words when the call goes to voice mail. “Dad, you guys need to pack up and get outta there.” The ember in his gut flares because his dad, mom, and little sister are in the middle of a two-week vacation at the nation’s oldest national park.

  Camp 39–Ozark, Alabama

  Interview: Andy from Albuquerque, NM—banker

  “My wife and I made a pact to take our two children to all of the national parks within driving distance during our vacations. Last year we went to the Grand Canyon and had a fabulous time. This year we vacillated between Yellowstone and the Oklahoma City National Memorial. Unfortunately, we picked the wrong park at exactly the wrong time. We were planning to go earlier in June, but I couldn’t get away from the bank. But I guess that’s all water under the bridge now. We were camping up around the lake at Grant Village. We could have weathered the earthquakes, but when the hydrothermal explosion at the lake happened, I knew it was time to go. And we didn’t waste much time getting out of there. We left the tent and all of our supplies and piled into the car. I knew all about the volcano, but I never thought in a million years . . .”

  CHAPTER 15

  Old Faithful Inn

  With the makeshift tourniquets still in place, Tucker lends a hand with the gurney carrying Sam. Cinched tight to a backboard, Sam moans with each step. Guests hold the doors open as Tucker and the others maneuver Sam through the narrow opening. The emergency helicopter sits in the parking lot, the blades spinning overhead. With grunts of exertion, they load Sam into the helicopter.

  One of the other rangers steps up to the cabin and shouts above the noise, “Hold the chopper. We have another patient on the way. He’s in critical condition.”

  Tucker takes the ranger by the elbow and steers him away from the rotor wash. “What happened?”

  “Some sort of thermal explosion at the lake.”

  “How large was the explosion?”

  “Don’t know. They just radioed to hold the helicopter. You’ve been here longer than me, Tucker. You ever heard of hydrothermal explosions at the lake?”

  Tucker gives an emphatic shake of his head. “We’ve had some around the geyser area, but never anything in the middle of the lake.”

  The ranger’s face creases with concern. “What’s it all mean?”

  “Nothing good.” Tucker steps away from the man as Rachael approaches. “Rach, you hear about the hydrothermal explosion over at Yellowstone Lake?”

  “Yes, and the borehole seismometer on the north end of the lake recorded a massive spike. You want to go over there?”

  “Not yet. I think we need to take a close look at the geyser area, but let me talk to my family for a moment.” Tucker approaches Matt and Jess, who are huddled with their children under the covered porch of the inn. He nods toward a brightly painted stagecoach that offers guests rides around the park, and they join him there.

  “How come the helicopter’s not taking off?” Matt asks.

  “They’re waiting for one more injured person.” He turns to face Jessica and tamps down the sudden images that course through his brain. “Jess, as a geologist, what’s your take on—” He glances down at his niece and nephew, who are taking it all in. “Hey, kids, why don’t you hop into this outdated limousine. Find out what travel used to be like.”

  Maddie and Mason climb aboard and Tucker leads Matt and Jess toward the rear. “Jess, there was a hydrothermal explosion in the middle of Yellowstone Lake just a little while ago.” He stares into the distance for a moment before continuing. “I hope like hell that these aren’t precursor events.”

  “To what? An eruption?” Jessica asks.

  “I think you’re both overreacting,” Matt says. “Yellowstone endured over three thousand earthquakes last year alone.”

  Tucker leans in closer. “And I was here for every damn one of them, Matt. Believe me, these are different. I’d like to hear your wife’s opinion.” The statement is harsher than he intended and his cheeks pink up as he looks down at his boots.

  Jessica gnaws her bottom lip for a moment before saying, “Tuck, I’m an oil field geologist, not a volcanologist. But I do think the possibility of some type of further pressure release is possible. The hydrothermal explosion could have done the trick, but there’s no way to know for sure. Maybe Matt is correct in assuming it’s business as usual. What are your sensors telling you?”

  “Plenty, but there’s a hundred different ways to interpret the data. These earthquakes are occurring in some unusual places, which would indicate magma movement. But none of us really believe there’s enough melt for an eruption.”

  Jess pushes away from the wheel and steps in closer. “What are the percentages?”

  Tucker removes his hat and mops his brow. “Maybe fifteen to twenty percent melt.”

>   “With fifty percent being the magic number?”

  “What magic number?” Matt asks.

  Tucker turns to his brother. “Most scientists believe a volcano won’t erupt unless fifty percent of the magma is viscous.”

  “And how do you know how much melt is down there?”

  “That’s the problem—we don’t,” Tucker says. “We can make projections by timing the seismic waves, but—”

  All three reach for the side of the stagecoach as the ground whipsaws beneath their feet. The coach springs squeal as the cab sways from side to side and Maddie and Mason scream. But their cries are drowned out when Old Faithful emits an otherworldly hiss before exploding skyward. All three turn to look and see the geyser growing in size, eating through the surrounding earth and shooting debris hundreds of feet into the air. Rocks rain down as Jessica and Matt help the children out of the coach. Rachael hurries over to join them, and they race toward the safety of the Old Faithful Inn.

  As they reach the covered porch, one of the outer support columns collapses, sending a section of the three-story roof onto the pavement. An outpouring storm of dust and debris shoots through the crowd like shrapnel. Tucker feels a prick of pain on his right leg, but ignores it as he scoops up Maddie and hugs her close. Park guests stampede toward the lobby, and within seconds the crowd is wedged so tightly the doors won’t open.

  Tucker reaches for Mason’s hand and shouts, “Follow me.” They hurry around the side of the building. Tucker glances back to see his brother limping, a dark stain spreading across his pant leg. Tucker hands Maddie off to Jessica, who has a rivulet of her own blood running down her cheek.

  Tucker hurries back to his brother and places Matt’s arm over his shoulder. “Mason, can you help your dad on the other side?”

  Mason, with tears streaming down his face, shoulders up under Matt’s other arm. Together, they half drag, half carry him along the side of the building.

  “Where are we going?” Jess shouts.

  “To the employee entrance,” Rachael shouts.

  Tucker tries to mentally calculate how much time has elapsed. The geyser usually blows for only a few minutes, but it’s now pushing the upper ranges of historical eruptions.

  Rachael leads them to a nondescript door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY and keys in the four-digit code. After she tugs the door open, they duck inside to an area behind the check-in counter. The once-evacuated lobby area is now jammed with people and there’s heavy pounding on the glass entry doors. April hurries over as Rachael swings open the door to the manager’s office.

  “What’s going on, Tucker?” April’s voice is tight with fear.

  Tucker loosens his grip on Matt, and Jess leads him into the office. “Part of the roof collapsed over the porch. Probably a dozen injured. Get on the radio and tell them we need immediate medical assistance.”

  April whirls around and hurries toward the radio as Tucker turns into the office. A sudden burning in his right leg forces Tucker to slow. “Rach, there should be a first aid kit in one of those cabinets.”

  Rachael walks over to the cabinets and begins flinging open doors.

  “Jess, help me lay Matt on the floor. We need to get a look at his wounds.” Rachael returns, carrying a large black bag with a red cross embossed on the front. She kneels and unzips the case.

  Jessica cradles Matt’s head in her lap while still holding Maddie’s hand. Mason is pushed back against the wall, his chin resting on his knees. Tucker removes a pair of scissors and begins cutting away the jeans encasing his brother’s leg. Within seconds, his hands are coated in blood. He finds a large tear near the inseam just below the knee, and carefully shears past Matt’s thigh. As he peels back the material, Rachael gasps.

  A deep laceration runs down Matt’s calf, from kneecap to ankle. Rachael rips open packages of gauze and douses them with alcohol before handing them to Tucker. He looks up at his brother. “Mattie, this is going to hurt.” He places the dampened gauze onto the wound and clamps down with both hands.

  Matt’s leg jerks as he swallows a scream.

  “I need to keep pressure on this for a few minutes. Your leg is going to need stitches.”

  With his jaw clinched tight Matt can only nod.

  “Rachael, will you hand Jess some gauze?”

  Rachael rips open more gauze, douses on the alcohol, and passes it across.

  “Jess, you have some facial lacerations that need to be cleaned up. Kids, you guys have any boo-boos?”

  Mason and Maddie shake their heads.

  “Probably wouldn’t hurt to check them, Jess,” Tucker says.

  Jess stands to check on the children.

  Rachael puts a hand on his back and leans in. “Tucker, you have a piece of wood protruding from your thigh.”

  “Can you pull it out?”

  “What if it makes the wound bleed more?”

  “Pull it out and wrap it as best as you can.” He feels a tugging sensation, then warmth, as blood trickles down his leg. He lifts one edge of Matt’s bandage for a peek as a hot poker lights up his thigh. “Fuuuu . . .” he groans through gritted teeth.

  “Need to clean the wound,” Rachael says.

  “Couldn’t you have warned me first?”

  “Almost done.” Rachael grabs the scissors from the floor and cuts a bigger hole in Tucker’s uniform pants before placing clean gauze over the wound. She wraps his thigh with an elastic bandage. “All done.” She leans forward again and whispers into Tucker’s ear. “Are we safe inside?”

  Tucker looks up at the log ceiling overhead. “The roof is used to carrying a heavy snow load but who knows with all this ground movement? Might be best to make our way outside.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Old Faithful Area, Yellowstone National Park

  Walt Stringer arrives at the Old Faithful area just as a corner of the porch roof at the inn crashes to the ground. He gooses the throttle of the four-wheeler and shoots across the parking lot. A helicopter, with blades spinning, sits at the edge of the lot. He parks the ATV and hops off, hurrying toward the scene of disaster.

  Several people are lying on the ground, covered with varying amounts of debris. “What happened?”

  “Big earthquake. Can you help triage the patients?” Patty asks.

  Walt nods and starts working his way through the scene. He had received some basic medical training in the military, but he’s a long way from being a brain surgeon. The first person he approaches is an older woman with a compound fracture to her left leg. The injury is gruesome, with one of her bones piercing the side of her calf. Blood is already beginning to puddle on the ground. Walt carefully lifts the debris off her leg before yanking his belt off and kneeling down beside her. “Ma’am, your leg is broken. I’m going to wrap my belt around your leg to slow the bleeding. We’ll get you out of here as fast as we can.”

  The woman grimaces and nods.

  Walt wraps the belt around her leg and cinches it tight, tying a makeshift knot to keep it in place. “I can’t leave the tourniquet on long without fear of doing irreversible damage, but I need to check on the other guests. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Walt stands and hurries to the next injured person, this one a teenage male with a portion of log lying across his midsection. The young man is moaning, and a collection of tiny pink bubbles is forming around his lips. Shit. Walt kneels down and tells him to hold on before standing to shout for help. Patty rushes over.

  Walt lowers his voice. “This boy needs a chest tube, stat. A rib must have punctured one or both of his lungs.”

  “I’ve never done a chest tube before.”

  “Find someone who can. If he doesn’t get one in the next minute or so, he’s going to die.”

  Patty turns and screams: “Ron!”

  Ron stands from treating another patient and hurries over.

  “This patient needs a chest tube,” Patty says.

  Ron mutters a string of curse words. “I’ve only done a chest tube once a
nd that was several years ago.”

  Ron kneels down next to the young man. His eyes are open, but there’s no sense awareness.

  Walt squats down next to him. “If you’ve done it once you can do it again.”

  Walt glances up to see more rangers running toward the scene, and he waves one over. “Radio that chopper to stand by.” The ranger grabs for his radio. Walt turns back to see Ron’s hands shaking violently. “Ron, take a deep breath. You can do this.”

  Ron gulps in a lungful of air. “I don’t have the right equipment for a chest tube.”

  Walt searches through the medical supplies and pulls out an IV kit. “We’ll make this work.” He rips open the package while Ron remains frozen. In his calmest voice, Walt says, “Ron, cut off his shirt and swab his chest.”

  Ron starts working. He cuts off the T-shirt, then opens a bottle of Betadine and saturates a handful of gauze before wiping it across the patient’s chest, the harsh chemical smell enveloping them.

  Walt holds up the IV needle. “You think this is long enough?”

  Ron looks at the needle and shakes his head. “Maybe if we attach some tubing to the needle I could push the IV catheter further into his chest cavity. We just need another couple of inches.”

  “Good thinking.” Walt pulls on a pair of sterile gloves. “Why don’t you make the incision while I rig this up.”

  Ron rips open a scalpel and pauses. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “We don’t have any choice, Ron. Just count the ribs and make the incision.”

  Ron pulls on a glove and counts down to the fourth rib. He takes a deep breath and slices through the skin. Using his finger, he bluntly dissects the incision until his finger breaks into the chest cavity. “I’m in.”

  Walt hands over the makeshift chest tube and Ron pushes the needle and tubing into the opening, securing it to the patient’s chest with tape. Dark red blood begins to drip from the other end of the tube. “We need something to keep him from sucking more air into his chest cavity.”