Cataclysm

by Tim Washburn

  “What are we supposed to do? Start hiking?”

  “Not with your injured leg. You can barely walk as it is.” Jess studies the map some more. “Up ahead, the Gibbon River crosses back under the road. If we can find somewhere to steer off the road, we can scoot northwest around Norris.”

  “There’s nowhere to scoot to, Jess. Even if we could find a place, we won’t get far. You’d need four-wheel drive to even attempt it. And we don’t have four-wheel drive.”

  Jess scowls. “I’m well aware we don’t have four-wheel drive. But we’re going to have to try—”

  “Mommy, what are you and Daddy arguing about?” Maddie asks.

  Jess turns to give her daughter a smile. “We’re not arguing, sweetheart. We’re just trying to find the quickest way to Uncle Tucker’s office.”

  “Good, because I don’t think this way is working very well.”

  “I think you’re right, honey.”

  “Is Uncle Tucker still going to show us the bears?”

  Matt swivels in his seat. “And the lions and tigers, oh my.”

  “Daddy, you’re silly. There aren’t any lions and tigers here.”

  “Are too. Maybe not tigers, but there are lions. They’re really cougars but most people call them mountain lions. The ones here at Yellowstone are some of the biggest cats in North—”

  “Give it a rest, Matt,” Jess snaps.

  “Mom, Dad—there’s a man on a four-wheeler headed straight for our car,” Mason says.

  * * *

  Walt spots the red Suburban and guns the four-wheeler up next to the SUV. Walt climbs off as car doors begin opening up and down the road. He hurries to the passenger window. “Tucker sent me. We don’t have time for introductions, but grab any water you have and come with me. And make it quick.”

  “What about our Suburban?” Matt asks.

  “Leave it.” Walt glances in both directions as people begin hurrying toward them. “As a matter of fact, leave everything. Get out right now and get on the four-wheeler.”

  The Mayfield family begins scrambling from their car. “Where do you want us?” Matt asks as he hobbles around the side of the vehicle.

  People are coming from all directions and they’re just feet away from Walt’s position. “Just get on the damn thing.” Walt draws his weapon, and the crowd halts.

  “You can’t shoot all of us,” one man says at the front of the pack.

  With his gun swinging in an arc among the crowd, Walt throws his leg over the seat. “No, but I can shoot you.”

  The Mayfields squeeze onto the ATV, with the kids on the seat behind Walt, and Matt and Jess clinging to the rear rack extending over the back fenders.

  “I don’t want to shoot anyone, but I will if you interfere with our leaving.”

  The man takes a couple of steps forward and is now within six feet of the ATV. “My family’s here, too. You going to ride off and leave all of us here to die?”

  Walt takes a moment to make sure the radio is secure and then switches the pistol to his left hand. “No one’s dying.” Walt avoids the word yet. “If the traffic doesn’t clear soon, put the sun in front of you and start hiking. The West Entrance to the park is about sixteen miles due west.”

  Walt sees the man tense up to make a move and guns the throttle just as the man lunges, leaving him nothing but the ground to halt his progress. Other people begin to run toward them. “Hold on tight,” Walt shouts as he quickly reholsters his pistol before steering the four-wheeler down a steep embankment.

  The added weight makes steering the ATV unwieldy, but Walt keeps the throttle down as he weaves through the trees, only slowing when they reach the river a couple of hundred yards away. Following his tracks, he finds the crossing and drives down the bank. The cold water shoots out in sheets, drenching everyone aboard. Walt struggles to keep a grip on the now-slippery handlebars. He misses his mark on the other side and hits a washed-out area that nearly jettisons everyone off the ATV. Somehow, they all hang on, and he races up the opposite bank. He glances back to make sure there are no pursuers and then slows to a more moderate pace.

  They reach the truck minutes later and everyone climbs off. Walt kills the engine and unfastens the radio, pushing the transmit button. “Walt to Tucker.” There is no immediate response. He tries again. “Walt Stringer for Tucker Mayfield.”

  The radio squawks. “This is Tucker, Walt. You find them?”

  “Ten-four. I’ve got ’em.”

  “What’s your twenty?”

  “We’re probably six or seven miles southwest of Norris.”

  There’s a long pause on the other end. Walt checks to make sure the radio is still on. Finally he hears, “Walt, switch over to channel two.”

  Walt clicks over to channel two.

  “Can you talk?” Tucker asks.

  Walt glances around. Jessica is tending to Matt’s leg while the children look on. He meanders away from the group.

  “Can now. What’s up?”

  “You need to get away from Norris as quickly as possible. The ground deformation numbers are off the chart and the latest earthquake registered over six with an epicenter just south of the Norris area.”

  “How much time do we have?” Walt asks.

  “I don’t know, Walt. It’ll take you the better part of two hours to make your way up here to Mammoth.”

  “I’ll load them up and start hauling ass. About all we can do.”

  “Keep your radio close and I’ll keep you updated.”

  “Will do.”

  “Walt . . .” Tucker’s voice fades away.

  Walt clicks the transmit button. “Yeah, Tucker?”

  “Hurry, Walt. Please hurry.”

  CHAPTER 42

  White House Situation Room

  President Drummond walks quickly into the Situation Room with Ethan Granger right on her heels. The military personnel present have shed their jackets and loosened their ties. The chairman of the Joint Chiefs shoots to his feet when he spots the President entering the room. The others begin to rise, but President Drummond waves them down. “Keep your seats. We don’t have time for all of that foolishness.” Before taking her seat she turns to her aide. “Ethan, see if we can get Dr. Lyndsey on videoconference.”

  Ethan nods and heads for the control room, home to all the technology used in the Situation Room.

  President Drummond pulls out a chair and sits. “I assumed you summoned me because you’ve come up with a plan?”

  Secretary of Defense Lauren Petit clears her throat before speaking. “Yes and no, Madam President. I’ve requested that all military aircraft, stationed in any areas west of Missouri and north of Oklahoma, relocate to bases on both coasts. In addition, all military bases within that—”

  President Drummond holds up her hand. “Lauren, I was just informed that an eruption at Yellowstone might trigger other eruptions in California, Oregon, and Washington.”

  The color drains from Lauren’s face. “If that’s the case we’re in serious trouble. There’s no way the bases outside the danger zone will be able to handle the aircraft and personnel from some of the largest military bases we have. We’re talking about evacuating over fifty military installations.”

  With two fingers on either side of her head, President Drummond massages her temples. “How long does it take to evacuate a base?”

  General Jose Cardenas, chairman of the Joint Chiefs, answers. “We can move the aircraft fairly quickly, but moving the personnel is another matter entirely. It will take days, possibly weeks, to sort out the situation.”

  President Drummond stops massaging and leans back in her chair. “Reposition the aircraft but keep personnel in place in areas outside the danger zone of Yellowstone. I’m not sure I put much stock in their theory about other eruptions. But the Yellowstone threat is real.”

  Ethan returns and sits next to the President. He leans over to whisper in her ear. “Dr. Lyndsey should be onscreen momentarily.”

  The President
nods, then turns to the others at the table. “I’ve asked the scientist-in-charge of the Yellowstone Volcano Observatory to join us on videoconference. But before we bring him in, I want to hear your plan for the nukes.”

  The military personnel look at one another, waiting for someone to start.

  “Well?” the President asks.

  General Truelove speaks from the video screen at the front of the room. “Madam President, I’ll answer since I’m the commanding officer of the Global Strike Command. Basically we have two options. We can install larger air scrubbers to filter the ash and have crews shelter in place, or evacuate the silos and pray our enemies don’t find out.”

  President Drummond starts in on her temples again. “How long would it take to install the new air scrubbers?”

  General Truelove hesitates before answering. “We’ve hit a small snag, ma’am. But we’re working with NASA to get our hands on the equipment. Once we locate them we’ll have to fly them up and retrofit them into the missile command silos. We estimate the task could take up to a month to complete.”

  “So what you’re really saying, General, is we should start praying.”

  General Truelove hangs his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

  President Drummond turns to General Cardenas. “How many missile subs do we have available?”

  “We have fourteen boomers, ma’am. But only ten are in service.”

  “What’s the deal with the other—never mind, I’m not going there. With what launch capabilities?”

  “Each is capable of launching twenty-four Trident II D5 nuclear missiles.”

  The President takes a moment to do the math in her head. “So we have the ability to target over two hundred forty nuclear missiles at any point on the globe?”

  “If we put all operational missile subs on station, yes.”

  “General Cardenas, put all subs on station and evacuate any silos within five hundred miles of Yellowstone. This decision doesn’t leave the room. Is that clear?”

  Nods from all those present.

  “Let’s move on. Can we get Dr. Lyndsey on the screen?”

  The face of Dr. Jeremy Lyndsey fills one half of the large screen. His face is pinched with worry and beads of perspiration are evident on his forehead.

  “Dr. Lyndsey, nice to finally see you,” the President says.

  “Wish I could say the same, ma’am, but I don’t have a monitor.”

  “Since you’re flying blind, I’ll tell you we are joined by various military personnel along with the secretary of defense. An eruption could have far-reaching effects on our military capabilities. But before we get to Yellowstone, tell me your thoughts about the theory of an eruption triggering activity elsewhere.”

  “First, ma’am, I need to report that Yellowstone was just rocked by a 6.2 magnitude earthquake. The second strongest ever recorded at the park.”

  “Strong enough to trigger an eruption?” the President asks.

  “Maybe. As I’ve stated before, volcanology is an inexact science, ma’am. We can’t tell you exactly when an eruption will occur, but we can predict the possibilities for an eruption.”

  President Drummond sighs. “And Yellowstone is primed?”

  “I’d say the fuse has already been lit, ma’am. As for your first question, yes, seismic activity in one area can trigger activity in other areas. At the time of the last Yellowstone earthquake, the intensity of earthquake swarms occurring in California and the Cascades also increased. Whether they increase enough to trigger eruptions is unknown at this point. Either way, an eruption of the Yellowstone Caldera would dwarf any other eruption by a factor measured in the thousands. To put it bluntly, Madam President, with the exception of the Long Valley Caldera in Northern California, all the other eruptions would be a puff of smoke compared to an eruption at Yellowstone.”

  Jaws drop on a few of the people gathered around the table. General Cardenas leans forward in his chair. “Anything we can do militarily, Dr. Lyndsey?”

  “No, sir. The only thing we can do is get the hell out of the way. That being said, the aftereffects will demand military intervention. I’d suggest you put the National Guard on standby.”

  General Cardenas jots down a note and then says, “How widespread are the effects going to be?”

  “Global, sir. I’ve had this conversation with President Drummond so I’ll give you the condensed version. Ash and sulfur dioxide will explode into the stratosphere. Once that sulfur dioxide is aerosolized it will create a veil, diminishing the sun’s intensity. Global temperatures could drop as much as ten degrees Fahrenheit.”

  President Drummond rubs the back of her neck. “You mentioned the ten-degree number earlier. That doesn’t sound like a drastic temperature difference.”

  “It’s not if you look at it from the perspective of daily temperature changes. But the impact from an overall temperature decrease of ten degrees will be devastating. We’d be looking at freezes in the tropics and frost or freezes in June or July, eliminating growing seasons all across the planet. With no crop production for one to two years, or longer in some cases, the possible human death toll could approach a billion or more.”

  CHAPTER 43

  Yellowstone Center for Resources

  The radio on the other side of the Spatial Analysis Center sounds. “Tucker Mayfield, Air Ranger Susan Maxwell. Over.”

  Tucker hurries across the room and picks up the base station microphone. “Go, Susan.”

  “Sir, I’m flying over the eastern side of the lake. I don’t see any obvious signs of ground deformation.”

  “Ten-four. It could very well be under the surface of the lake. Has the water flow stabilized?”

  “Hard to tell, sir. Grant Village and the road are still underwater.”

  “Are the lake patrol boats on scene?”

  “That’s affirmative, sir. I’m too far away to see exactly what’s happening, but they are in the area. I’m going to return to road duty. It’s one hell of a mess out here, sir.”

  “Susan, before you return to the roads, I’d like you to overfly the area around Norris, specifically the Back Basin area. A ranger reported a recently opened surface fault near Steamboat Geyser.”

  “Large enough to be seen from the air?”

  “Unknown. But a significant quake just struck the area.”

  “Roger, I’m headed that direction. I should be over the area shortly and will report back.”

  “Thank you, Susan. Be safe up there.” Tucker places the radio on the desk and returns to the computer. “We can’t do anything about the lake, but we need to find out what the hell is happening at Norris.”

  Barlow paces back and forth behind Tucker and Rachael as they sit, working the computers. Being way out of her element, April grabs an old magazine and tucks herself into a corner on the other side of the room.

  “Rachael, can you check the temps at Steamboat and Opalescent Pool?” Tucker asks.

  “I’ve already checked the temps for the Gray Lakes area and it’s running about ten degrees hotter than normal,” Rachael says as she clicks from one screen to another. “Uh-oh. Steamboat is up nearly forty degrees and the Vixen soil temp is up—no, that can’t be right.”

  “What?” Tucker and Ralph say at the same time.

  “I don’t know if there’s been a malfunction or what, but the soil temp is approaching 120 degrees Farenheit.”

  “What’s normal?” Ralph asks.

  Tucker pedals his chair over to Rachael’s computer. “This time of the year, the soil temps should be in the sixty-degree range. Rach, will you pull up the temp readings for Constant Geyser?”

  Rachael clicks to another screen and her eyes widen in surprise. “The temps are normal.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “Why?” Ralph asks.

  “Constant Geyser lies outside the caldera boundary. The rim brushes up against the Norris area, including Steamboat and the soil temp station.”

  Ralph leans in t
o look at the monitor. “Meaning what, exactly?”

  Tucker pedals back over to his computer. “Again, I believe the magma is moving closer to the surface. That’s the only explanation for that big of an increase in temperatures.” Tucker pulls up the webicorder display from the Norris seismometer and compares it with other instruments around the area. “Where we’re seeing the increase in temps is exactly where the epicenter of the last earthquake was.”

  “And that last quake registered shallow at about a mile and a half,” Rachael says.

  Ralph sags into a vacant chair. “So you think an eruption will happen at Norris? I thought we were more concerned with the Old Faithful area?”

  Tucker leans back in his chair. “As I’ve reiterated numerous times, we could see an eruption anywhere within the caldera. It might be several smaller eruptions around the caldera before the grand finale.”

  “What type of time frame are you thinking?” Ralph asks.

  “Unknown,” Tucker answers. “It could be hours between eruptions, maybe as much as a day or two.” Tucker throws his hands up in the air. “We just don’t know. Hell, I could be wrong and the whole damn thing erupts simultaneously. But I do believe some type of eruption is inevitable at this point.”

  “I concur,” Rachael says, “but I don’t think there’s any way we get away with one or two small eruptions. There’s too much caldera instability.”

  “Well, I can’t disagree with either of you, but I hope like hell Rachael’s wrong about the big one,” Barlow says as he pushes out of his chair. “I need to check on evacuation progress. Keep me posted.” Barlow grabs his handheld radio and exits the room.

  “Rachael, will you collate all the deformation—”

  “Air Ranger Susan Maxwell for Tucker Mayfield. Over.” Her voice over the radio is laced with tenseness.

  Tucker hurries over to the radio. “Go, Susan.”