Cataclysm

by Tim Washburn

  “Tucker for Walt Stringer,” the radio on his belt blurts, causing the wires to slip from his hand.

  Walt fumbles the radio free. “Go, Tucker.”

  “What’s your twenty?”

  “At the salt depot just east of Norris.”

  “Damn it Walt, you should have been clear of that area a long time ago.”

  “The pickup . . . we’ve had some issues, Tucker. But we’re working through them.”

  “Walt, you need to move your ass. There may be a vent opening near Norris.”

  “How large?”

  “Size is irrelevant. It’s only a matter of time until the vent—”

  The radio goes dead in Walt’s hand. He slams it against his leg, then shakes it, hoping to get a little more juice out of the battery. No luck. He tosses the dead radio onto the dash and retrieves the fallen wires. He forgoes any more positive thinking and touches the wires together. The big diesel engine groans and turns over, but doesn’t start. He switches on the choke and tries again. After a few sluggish seconds, the engine fires to life, belching a cloud of black smoke into the clear mountain air. He allows the engine to warm up for a couple of minutes before pulling the loader over to the barn. He climbs down from the cab and shouts toward the Mayfields. “Toss everything into the bucket. We need to move.”

  Walt hurries across the barn, scoops up the air hose, and races back to the loader.

  “Why are we suddenly in such a big hurry?” Jess shouts over the engine noise.

  “Talked to Tucker. We’re running out of time. Put the kids in the cab and see if you can find some rope. You and Matt will have to tie yourselves onto the steps.” Walt squats down and begins filling the tire.

  Jess steps over and squats down next to him. “What’s happened, Walt?”

  “There might be a vent opening over at the Norris basin. That’s all I know. Find some rope and get the kids situated so we can get the hell out of here.”

  “We’re not going to make it to Mammoth.”

  “I don’t know if we will or won’t, but we don’t have time to mess with the pickup. We’ll drive the loader and plow our own damn road if we have to.”

  Jess jumps to her feet and starts shouting directions. As the kids scramble up to the cab, she grabs a length of rope from a hook on the barn wall and helps Matt up to the landing at the top of the stairs. She wraps the rope around both of them and ties it off on the handrail. “How’s the leg?”

  “Hurts like hell and might be getting infected. But that’s the least of our problems at the moment. What did Tucker say?”

  She brushes a stray strand of red hair from his face. “A small vent may be opening.”

  Matt takes his wife’s hand. “We going to make it, Jess?”

  She leans in and brushes her lips against his. “Bet your ass, we are.”

  Matt shakes his head and smiles before giving his wife’s hand a squeeze.

  Once Walt decides there’s enough air in the tire, he tosses the air hose aside and climbs up into the cab. “Everyone, hold on,” he shouts before jamming the beast into gear and steering away from the barn.

  Camp 241–Fayetteville, North Carolina

  Interview: Stella from Scottsbluff, NE—camp counselor

  “My husband and I ran a small summer church camp for the teenagers back home. Gave us a chance to interact with our two girls among their peers. An eyeopening experience, I’m here to tell you. We decided to take the group on a one week hiking and camping trip up to Yellowstone. There were ten of us on the trip. The other parents pitched in to help rent one of those big passenger vans so we wouldn’t have to take more than one car. Now that I think about it, I hope they bought the insurance. But I guess that’s beside the point now. Our last day was when everything started happening. We were already headed home when the rangers turned us around and told us to go out the west exit. I’m a Christian and all, but I did have a few choice words for the man. Anyway, we inched along in the traffic, and on the other side of the Norris area we heard a loud explosion.”

  CHAPTER 48

  Yellowstone Center for Resources

  “Walt, are you there?” Tucker pauses for a response, the radio gripped tightly in his hand. “Walt Stringer, this is Tucker Mayfield. Do you copy?” No response. Tucker places the radio back on the desk and turns away from the computer array at the Spatial Analysis Center.

  Rachael pauses her data crunching and glances over her shoulder. “Probably a dead battery. Walt’s been on that thing all morning. Why don’t you see if Sally can do a flyover of the area?”

  “Good idea.” Tucker makes the radio call and walks over to April, who’s on the other side of the room, flicking her finger across the screen of her iPhone. “April, do you have somewhere you can stay?”

  April looks up from her phone. “Not really. Just my room down at Grant Village, which I guess is now underwater.”

  “Where’s home when you’re not working here?” Tucker asks.

  “I gave up my apartment at the end of the semester when I came out here. I was planning on heading home to my parents in Georgia until I found a real job. Why?”

  “If the caldera erupts, we’re all going to be looking for a place to live. If you can make it to the airport in Bozeman before an eruption, you just might make it home. Otherwise, an eruption will ground air traffic over most of the country for a significant length of time.”

  April stands in one fluid, feline movement. “How significant?”

  “Weeks, certainly. Maybe months. Georgia would be a pretty good place to be in the aftermath.”

  Rachael gasps and swivels her chair around. “You’re not going to make it to Bozeman, April. Tucker, we now have indications of a harmonic tremor at Norris.”

  Tucker hurries over to the computer and quickly scans the data on the screen. “Damn. Can you pull up the GPS data?”

  Rachael manipulates the mouse and pulls up the data feed. “Uplift of over sixteen inches and—”

  “Dr. Mayfield, Air Ranger Sally Maxwell. Over.”

  Tucker picks up the radio. “Go, Sally.”

  “I don’t know if it’s your family or not, but there’s a group of people on one of the loaders. Best I can tell, there’s three in the cab and two more riding on the outside stairs.”

  “Is one of them a woman?”

  “Possibly, sir. I buzzed them but I couldn’t tell much.”

  “Are they headed toward Mammoth?”

  “Negative, Dr. Mayfield. They’re heading in an east-northeasterly direction.”

  Tucker mutters a few curse words before responding. “How much room do you need to land that thing?”

  “Sir, I was a bush pilot in Alaska. I can put her down on a damn Band-Aid if I need to.”

  “Think you could scoop them up and head this way?”

  “Roger, sir . . . oh shit . . . there’s debris in the air, I think—”

  Tucker mashes the transmit button. “Sally?” Nothing. “Sally, can you read me?” He pauses to listen. “Come in, Air Ranger Maxwell.”

  Dead air.

  Tucker hurls the radio at the wall.

  CHAPTER 49

  Yellowstone Center for Resources

  Rachael leans back in her chair, crosses her arms, and stares at the display. “How come we’re not seeing evidence of a harmonic tremor on other nearby instruments?”

  April wheels her chair closer. “What is this tremor thing?”

  Rachael gives April an annoyed look as Tucker answers. “A harmonic tremor is a continuous, low-grade disturbance that signals magma movement through a narrow opening. It’s frequently a precursor to an impending volcanic eruption.”

  Rachael tries to tune out their conversation, but can’t. “Maybe it’s water jetting through the hydrothermal system.”

  Tucker turns back to Rachael and points to the computer screen. “That’s a borehole seismometer buried about a thousand feet deep. That’s below most of the hydrothermal activity. I believe it’s magma relate
d, and we could be looking at the first eruption site.”

  April scoots her chair closer, her knee making contact with Tucker’s. “First eruption? How many are there going to be?”

  “The caldera is huge. It’s large enough to fit the city of Los Angeles into the basin of the volcano. An eruption could occur at a single vent before spreading into a caldera-wide event. But no one really knows what will happen once the cork pops.”

  Rachael uncrosses her arms and leans forward. “It’s all a little more complicated than the hospitality business, April.”

  April glares at Rachael. “Thanks. That’s very helpful. Thank you for enlightening me.”

  Rachael scowls and turns back to her screen as Tucker stands to gain some distance from the two women.

  “What about the anomalies we’re seeing at Old Faithful?” Rachael asks.

  “We could have two vents opening. If that’s the case you can Katy bar the door, because all bets are off.”

  Superintendent Barlow barges into the room. “Why are some people so damn dense? Trying to evacuate the park is like herding cats. I swear, some people don’t have a lick of—”

  “Ralph, we’ve lost contact with Sally,” Tucker says in a soft voice. “She was flying around the Norris area and her last words were something about debris in the air.”

  Barlow walks unsteadily to a chair and sits. His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks. “There are still thousands of people out there . . . I just . . .” He rakes a hand across his face. “I just don’t know what else to do.”

  Tucker squats down next to him. “My family’s out there, too, Ralph, and I don’t have a clue where they are. Maybe we should warn park personnel about what’s happening at Norris.”

  Barlow shakes off his melancholy and angrily pushes to his feet. “Warn them about what? That they’re about to be incinerated?” He waves a hand in the air. “Hey, people, bend over and kiss your ass good-bye.” He turns away to stare at the wall.

  “If they can get deep underground, they might survive the pyroclastic flows.”

  Barlow whirls around. “Underground where? Half the fucking park is sitting on top of the volcano.”

  Tucker shrugs. “I don’t know, Ralph. There are no good answers. You need to think about rounding up the staff here at Mammoth and pushing further north.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. This park is my responsibility.”

  Tucker steps up close and lowers his voice. “There won’t be a park anymore, Ralph. The pyroclastic flows could reach a hundred miles in every direction. And what that doesn’t get the wildfires certainly will.”

  Barlow stomps his foot down. “I’m staying.”

  “What about your wife?”

  “I’ll send her north with you.”

  “And you really believe she’ll leave without you? Bullshit.” Tucker softens his tone. “This is not a captain-going-down-with-the-ship moment, Ralph. We have no control over what might happen. All we can do is try to survive.”

  Barlow walks over to a window and stares into the distance. “We should’ve started evacuating the park when the earthquake swarms started happening.”

  Across the room, Rachael stands from her chair and approaches Barlow. “We’ve had a dozen earthquake swarms over the years, Ralph. We can’t evacuate the park every time there’s instability. This just happens to be the one time—”

  “All rangers,” the radio on Ralph’s belt squawks. “This is Ranger Teague up by Nez Perce Creek and Loop Road. I just heard an ungodly explosion down south. Can anyone see what’s happening?”

  Tucker hurries over to the map to pinpoint the ranger’s location. “Please don’t tell me we might have two vents opening. Did he say north or south of his position?”

  Ralph turns from the window. “Don’t bother, Tucker. The closest thing south of there is Old Faithful.”

  Camp 46–Columbus, Georgia

  Interview: Tamara from Woodward, OK—petroleum engineer

  “We’ve been to Yellowstone a couple of times. Usually we’ll camp for three or four days and then move into the Old Faithful Inn for the last couple of days. I merely tolerate the outdoors and have a max limit of about three days. You asked if I was angry. Yes, I am. They should have begun the evacuation much sooner. Surely they had to have had a plan? I’m an engineer and we plan for everything. I put what happened on the National Park Service. There’s just no excuse for the way things turned out.”

  CHAPTER 50

  Affordable Air Flight 2136, cruising at 36,000 feet

  Ten miles from the northern border of Yellowstone National Park, Captain Neil Lockhart disengages the autopilot.

  “I thought you weren’t worried,” Co-captain Victoria Delgado says.

  “I’m not. But I want to be able to maneuver if we have to.” He glances down at the radar display. “Looks like clear sailing to me.” Flying at 450 knots with a fairly strong tailwind, the aircraft is cruising along at a ground speed of 520 miles per hour, quickly eating up the miles.

  Lockhart squirms in his seat. “We’ll be across the park and gone in about six minutes. How much can happen during that short time frame?”

  “Six minutes can seem like an eternity in certain situations.”

  “Barely a pimple on a gnat’s ass. Why don’t you radio for an update on the volcano status?”

  “Why don’t we just skirt around the area? It’ll only add about ten minutes to the flight time. Hell, we can make that up with the tailwind.”

  “Too late. We just passed over Highway 191. We’re over the park right now.”

  Delgado sighs. “Then why did you want a status update?”

  “Trying to keep you occupied.”

  Delgado mutters a few curses as she leans forward in her chair, peering out the front windscreen.

  Lockhart chuckles. “T minus five minutes and counting.”

  Delgado turns and scowls. “You can be such an ass sometimes, Neil.” She glances back forward and her blood runs cold. “Hard right turn,” she shouts.

  “What is it?” Lockhart shouts as he whips the yoke over. The fuselage rotates sideways twenty-five degrees as any unsecured items slam against the far cockpit wall.

  “Ash and debris. Turn the goddamn plane, Neil.”

  “I’m turning. How far out?”

  “Too close.” She reaches over and slams the throttles forward. “Try to gain some altitude.” Delgado grabs the wheel on her side and pulls it toward her chest.

  “You’re going to stall us,” Lockhart shouts. “Ease off.”

  Delgado eases off the wheel. “Steepen your bank.” She glances at the altimeter before turning her gaze back to the front window. “We’re not going to clear it.”

  A buzzer sounds as a red light flashes on the console. “Flameout on engine two. Level off and descend. Maybe we can get it restarted.” Delgado silences the alarm with a punch of a button.

  Lockhart eases the wheel back to center and pushes the yoke forward as a bead of sweat pops on his forehead. “Descending.” Debris begins pelting the windscreen as the jet picks up speed. “If one of those rocks pierces the fuselage, we’re toast.”

  The radio squawks over their headphones. “AA 2136, Salt Lake Center. The FAA just issued an order to clear all airspace within three hundred miles of Yellowstone. Turn left to a heading of one-one-zero and ascend to 38,000.”

  Lockhart triggers the radio. “Too damn late. Ash is already in the air.”

  “Delivering fuel to engine two.” Delgado watches the pressure gauge as the fuel floods into the combustion chamber. She flips the switch to trigger the starter, and her hopes diminish. “Negative on restart.”

  “Let’s try a windmilling relight,” Lockhart says through clenched teeth as he wrestles with the wounded plane.

  “Salt Lake Center. Please repeat, AA 2136. Is ash currently present?”

  “We need to bleed off some speed,” Delgado says. “Need to be between 300 and 330 knots.”

  “How the
hell am I going to bleed speed and descend at the same time?” Lockhart glances at the instrument panel, willing the plane to slow. “Let’s try flaps at ten degrees.” His legs are pistoning up and down as he works the rudder.

  Delgado brings the flap lever to ten degrees. “We’re really in stall territory now. Keep an eye on the attitude indicator.” She triggers the radio button. “Salt Lake Center, this is Affordable Air Flight 2136. Yes, ash is present and we are experiencing flight difficulties.”

  “What’s your status, 2136?”

  “We’ve had engine flameout due to volcanic ash. Attempting to do a windmilling relight and need to descend below 28,000.”

  “Roger, 2136. You are clear to descend.”

  “Ten-four, descending.”

  “Please confirm upon engine restart, 2136. Prayers your way.”

  “I don’t think prayers are going to be enough, Salt Lake Center, but I’ll keep you updated.” Delgado glances down at the instrument cluster and winces. “More bad news. The temp on engine one is climbing.” She leans forward and eases back on the throttle for engine one. “We’re about to be in a world of hurt.”

  Lockhart grimaces. “We already are. Where are we on altitude?”

  “Just broke through 28,000. Slow her down about 10 knots and we’ll try for a relight on engine two.”

  “Might want to start looking for a place to put down. Maybe we could make Jackson, if we’re lucky.”