Fault Line In The Sand

by Linda Mackay

  This area suffered the worst of the directional blast. Instead of blowing straight into the air, the damage was verifying the explosion took a southeast path. The reason for that would probably remain an unsolved mystery in the history of the park. Our search for evidence was like looking for your grandmother’s wedding ring after an EF-5 tornado demolished her neighborhood. Anything of value gained here would take months to uncover, if ever.

  By late afternoon we gave up. We left the bay and rode to the top of Lake Butte and made camp.

  “Another day, another illegal camp,” Todd said.

  “The privilege of being on the payroll,” Amanda said.

  “The only privilege I’m interested in is that outhouse so I don’t have to squat in the woods,” Liz smiled.

  I looked at the small building with the pit toilet and laughed.

  The next day it was late afternoon when we arrived at the north side of Mary Bay. We’d left behind the luxury of an outhouse and struggled over trails clogged with snow and mud. We were tired, hungry, and all needed to go to neutral corners for a timeout. I unsaddled Arikira and let her graze. She walked toward the bay, turned and looked at me, then snorted before moving away from the water. “My sentiments exactly, girl.”

  “Arikira, unhappy?” Mac asked releasing Chimayo.

  “She thinks the bay is a stink hole,” I said.

  “She did not say stink hole.”

  “She thought it.”

  “A horse uses the word stink hole? Sounds to me like you’re paraphrasing.” Mac wiped down his saddle and threw his coat on top.

  “She didn’t like the smell and she wants no part of drinking that water,” I said.

  “Now you have my attention,” Mac said. “Arikira thinks the water is dangerous to drink?”

  “She does. That’s why she and the other horses are moving further up the lake.”

  “That’s bad.”

  “Not really. They don’t drink water from any of the hot pools. It just means this portion of the lake has changed its chemical balance and isn’t the same water it was before the bomb.”

  “How can that happen? It’s a fresh water lake.”

  “You’ve been to West Thumb on the other side of the lake.”

  “Yes.”

  “Imagine what it would look like without all the tourist boardwalks. There are hot springs, geysers, fumaroles and dormant cones congregated closely together. In the late 1800s mountain men would catch a trout in the lake, swing the pole around and put the fish in the boiling pool and cook the fish.”

  “I’m not planning to cook any fish so what is the correlation with Mary Bay’s stink hole.”

  “I’m getting there. The West Thumb is a smaller volcanic caldera created 175,000 years ago, inside the larger caldera. That depression filled with water over time and became part of this huge bay in Yellowstone Lake.”

  “Like Mary Bay filled?” Mac asked

  “You are an impatient man.”

  “So, I’ve been told,” Mac dropped a square of cut up tarp to keep his pants dry and sat on the ground.

  “All this took time. Lots of time. And during that time the chemical composition of the geysers, hot pools and the lake were fluctuating. Many of the features at West Thumb haven’t erupted in decades. However, an earthquake or other processes can cause the ground to gain energy.”

  “And then dormant geysers start erupting and some hot pools could empty and others overflow.” Mac was catching on. “And even though Mary Bay was a bomb, it still disrupted her equilibrium.”

  “Once the bay settles into her new appearance we’ll know more what she has in store. Before the July explosion the meadow on the other side of the road was very active. Now all of that is under water.”

  “I assume you believe it’s okay to camp along the tree line?” Mac asked.

  “Just don’t drink the water.”

  “I wouldn’t drink anything that hasn’t come from uphill,” Todd said. “This place is rancid and I don’t have enough filters to get out all the freaky microbes in this stuff.”

  “Wow, that was an extremely technical explanation. Your professors would be so proud,” Amanda said.

  “I don’t need university-speak to say this water is vile.”

  “I’m happy we are smelling sulfur, and seeing expulsions from the vents. I like the park a lot better when she talks,” I said.

  “Why is that?” Liz asked popping up her tent.

  “It’s like when your stomach is bloated. Don’t you feel better after a good fart,” Todd said.

  “Yes, and I also feel better when I’ve blown up a few targets on the practice range with grenades,” Liz smiled and threw her sleeping bag and mine in the tent.

  “Thanks for keeping me away from the germ repository.” This seemed like the time to be on her good side.

  She nodded, and turned to Todd and Mac. “Are you big strong men going to hunt for your little ladies’ dinner?”

  “Why yes ma’am,” Todd said. “We’ll hunt for some freeze-dried beef stroganoff.”

  “I’ve got a water bladder and soap.” Amanda said changing the subject.

  “Liz bring your pistol, you’re our last resort bear protector. Amanda and I will carry bear sprays.”

  “Where are we going and what are we cleaning?” Liz asked.

  “We’re walking north up the lakeshore, getting water from the lake in this bladder, and then using it to take a P-bath,” Amanda said.

  “The park doesn’t frown on you polluting the area with soap?”

  “Its’ bio-degradable soap and even with that we aren’t full-on bathing in the lake.” Amanda rolled her eyes. “We’re filling the bladder with water and using it to bathe with.”

  “Are you coming?” I asked walking away from camp.

  “Sure. But what’s a P-bath?” Liz asked.

  “Pits and pussy!” Amanda said.

  “I’m sorry I asked.”

  “You won’t be sorry about being cleaner,” I told her.

  “You girls have fun.” Todd waved as we walked away. “If you’re lucky I’ll ride back to the truck and pick up more food.”

  “Get the Kleenex box under the seat, please,” Amanda said.

  “Your wish is my command, Miss Sniffle-up-a-gus.”

  “This is a lot easier to do from a boat.” Todd sat on his wadded up sleeping bag in front of the computer trying to maneuver the ROV along the lake floor.

  “Sorry, I’m not a fancy pulley system.” Mac was attempting to release the tether attached to the ROV slowly and precisely so it didn’t get hung up on the bottom of the lake. Amanda was in the inflatable boat holding the tether perpendicular to the water as Mac released it. I hated when we used the robot from shore. I’d gone snorkeling on more than one occasion trying to get it unstuck.

  The sun rose over the lake, adding a morning mist to the landscape as the cold air met the water. Steam shot into the atmosphere all over the park, reminding visitors they were inside an enormous active volcano.

  “You’re doing great, Manny.” Todd spoke into the radio mouthpiece on his headset. “Sure glad Jorie thought to bring the floaty boat toy.”

  “Say that three times fast,” Liz said.

  Todd stared at the computer screen. “I rather say let’s go home. It’s fricken freezing out here.”

  Todd sat just inside the tent we’d set up on shore. It was the only way he could monitor the ROV without the sun reflecting on the computer screen. I was outside the tent using binoculars to watch Amanda in the inflatable. I could see her sneezing and snot run down her chin. Not once did she release her hold on the tether to wipe it. Show ‘em your stuff, Princess.

  “I hope you aren’t calling me Princess,” Todd said.

  “I didn’t realize I’d said that out loud,” I watched the waves increase intensity. “Amanda is holding tight and blowing snot to the wind.”

  “Good girl. She never lets you down when it comes to her job.”

  �
�The wind has picked up and is tossing her around.”

  “As long as she holds tight to the tether she won’t float away,” Todd said.

  “Okay, sailor boy, I’ll trust you,” I saluted.

  “More line, Mac, you’re bogging down the ROV,” Todd yelled.

  “Will do.”

  “Just a little further,” Todd said. “Stop. I’m marking distance from shore, proceeding to turn the ROV to begin a parallel path with the shore.”

  “What do you want me to do now?” Mac asked.

  “Tie it around your waist and walk the grid all day,” Todd said.

  Mac held the tether in his left hand at the stop point Todd called for, and stuck his head in the tent. “Smart ass, give me some serious directions.”

  “Keep a loose grip, but let the ROV do the walking. We won’t be able to travel far in any one direction because we’ve wasted so much tether getting away from shore.”

  “Should we update Amanda?” Liz asked.

  I shook my head. “She knows what to do.”

  “How fast does that machine move?” Liz took a photo of Amanda bouncing over the waves.

  “1.5 knots. It travels about one kilometer in thirty minutes,” I said.

  “This is ridiculous. We’ll be here for weeks.”

  I was enjoying watching the piranha’s exasperation. She hadn’t been forthcoming with her knowledge. So, why should I tell her the USGS had been mapping the floor of Lake Yellowstone for decades? The geology nerds knew the lakebed like most people knew how to find their toilet in the middle of the night with the lights off.

  “Trust me, we aren’t fumbling in the sock drawer hoping to find the kitchen utensils,” I said.

  However, we were like kids on Christmas morning, hoping to find that special gift under the tree. Our special gift just happened to be a vent covered over with concrete: a single vent that didn’t explode and release her load when the bomb went off.

  “What do you see?” Mac asked.

  “With the help of your muscles we made it safely to the flat bottom of the original hydrothermal crater Mother Nature created over 13,000 years ago,” Todd said. “There’s about 100 vent-structures down there, or should I say there were about 100.”

  “Be careful, I don’t want to lose Ralph down a new crater,” I said.

  “What do you mean there were 100?” Mac asked.

  “Whose Ralph?” Liz wanted to know.

  “Todd named the ROV, Ralph.”

  “Hey, he looks like a Ralph.” Todd continued to stare at the computer screen like he was in an intense World of Warcraft battle.

  “How do you know it’s a male?” Liz asked.

  “Have you seen the rod on that dude?”

  “I take it he’s referring to the manipulating arm?” Liz looked at me.

  “I hope so. Asking him too many questions can lead to answers you don’t want to hear,” I advised her.

  “I’m turning Ralph 90 degrees north. Holy shit!”

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” Mac said, “and someone answer my question.”

  Todd stuck his head out the flap of the tent. “I forgot the question.”

  “What about the 100 vents and, what do you see?” Mac shouted, losing patience. I’m sure he would’ve smacked Todd upside the head if it weren’t for his duty to secure the moving tether.

  “Could be 20 or 200 now,” Todd said, “and I’m pretty sure I’m looking at the detonation sight. All the sinter cones are destroyed. I don’t have enough light range to estimate how deep the blast crater is.”

  “Condition report,” I said.

  “Don’t worry I won’t lose Ralph, but I also won’t be traveling any further north. The new crater is littered with sinter and rock debris,” Todd said. “Crap, we need a boat and Bulls’ big baby.”

  I wanted to see for myself but didn’t want to take my eyes off Amanda bobbing up and down in the floaty boat toy. “Do you see vents expelling gas or heat bubbles?”

  “She’s still talking. But the lake floor maps are now officially 100 percent obsolete.”

  “Take a vent temperature reading.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  Liz took the binoculars from me. “Get in there with Todd, I’m qualified to know if the waves are more than that balloon can handle.”

  I didn’t second-guess my decision to pass off the binos and abandon my duty to Amanda. I had to trust the piranha. I crawled over the top of the computer and squeezed in next to Todd.

  “You know how the 53 meter vent ranges at 120 degrees Celsius.” Without taking his eyes from the screen Todd pointed to the reading. “Look at this smaller vent temperature reading.”

  “That can’t be right.”

  “It is.”

  “Find another vent opening.”

  Todd moved the ROV away from the crater a few meters and tried again. “159 C or to blow your mind with big numbers, it’s 318 degrees Fahrenheit.”

  “Can you get a temp down in the crater?”

  “Not unless you want to go swimming and retrieve Ralph.”

  “You two are pissing me off,” Mac yelled, “either start talking so I can hear, or I’m coming in there.”

  “Think he’s serious,” I asked Todd.

  “Definitely.”

  I crawled out of the tent and updated Mac. Watching his eyebrows move up and down and his hands gripping the tether like he was wringing someone’s neck, I was afraid to ask what was bothering him. “You need to move the ROV away from the blast crater,” Mac said.

  “We’re doing that, but we’re moving in an orderly grid fashion,” I said.

  “Screw that scientific crap. You’re too close.”

  Liz touched my shoulder and I jumped. “Sorry, wrong side. What Mac is so poorly communicating is when an explosion this violent occurs everything is pulverized at the detonation point. You won’t find what you’re looking for until you move away from the violence.”

  “That’s not how we operate. If we aren’t methodical the results are tainted.” I didn’t have time for their ignorance of protocol.

  “Jorie, we’re not proving science, we’re proving murder,” Mac said. “And we do it my way. Todd, move Ralph to the south away from the crater.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll make us an early lunch.” Liz said handing the binos back to me.

  The pecking order had shifted again, and I was undeniably pecked.

  “How did you know exactly where the detonation was?” Liz asked while we sat on the beach eating cheese crackers and freeze-dried mangos.

  “I’m a genius scientist.”

  “I’ll need more than that.”

  “We knew the exact location where the President was standing, we had my dad’s eye witness account, and most importantly we knew where the most concentrated vent chambers were.”

  “That’s sophomoric. I know there’s more to it,” Liz said.

  “It’s kind of hard to miss a giant bomb crater, even if it is in a lake.”

  “Try again, or I’m going piranha on you.”

  “Look at this map.” I pointed to a spot north of the bay, deciding I wasn’t in the mood to be piranhed. I know that’s not a word, but I was considering submitting it for scientific consideration. “This is an inflated plain. It literally breathes, moving up and down. No one is sure when, or how, these domes or land inflations become active. There is no clear evidence if they shoot off into the air or if they collapse in on themselves in a different type of explosive action. We do know domes occur as a result of hydrothermal pressurization under a closed zone of low permeability.”

  “Lost me,” Liz said.

  “Some of these domes have breached, or open, vents. Those vents would allow any notable pressure to escape. Domes without breaching are considered to be the most likely to exhibit future explosions. Therefore, it would appear on the surface you would choose a dome without breaching as your target. However, most scientists would have ruled out using the inflat
ed plain as it’s too unpredictable to enhance a human-made explosion, which was part of the goal.”

  “So, what would be the best location?”

  “Geologic records show that thermal areas with active discharge of neutral, high-chloride waters are most likely to experience explosions.”

  “Whatever that means, I’ll assume it’s why you knew approximately where to look.” Liz pointed at Elliott’s crater, which was one kilometer southwest of the Mary Bay crater. “Why Mary Bay and not that one?”

  I folded the map and stuck it in my back pocket. “It would’ve been harder for divers to access, and would move the actual detonation site further away.”

  “Leaving open the possibility someone would survive,” Liz said. “Did Mac tell you the podium location the President spoke from was moved the week prior to the event?”

  “He did not.” That dirty bum.

  “Why would their scientific expert change his mind about the location at the last minute?” Liz looked at me like she already knew, and was testing me.

  “Because he’d figured out something was wonky and was trying to save people’s lives?”

  “Bingo! You could’ve been a spy.”

  “No. I just know Ben Loren. If he figured out what was happening he would’ve done his best to change the outcome.”

  “Why didn’t it work?” Liz asked.

  “The bay had another agenda.” Todd said from his post in the tent.

  “And that agenda?” Liz was clearly getting frustrated, and I was enjoying it.

  “I don’t think those higher temps are a result of the bomb. It’s too much coincidental cause and effect.” Todd was ignoring Liz. He wasn’t intentionally being rude: but when he works, he refuses to be distracted from the problem.

  This was about volcanism, and Todd’s area of expertise.

  “Ben’s math was wrong?” I asked.

  “The post-explosion proved the math was wrong. But I think the reason the math was wrong was the bay was planning something of her own,” Todd said.