Rise of the Carnelians (Europa)

by Jason Gehlert

  Inside the craft, Commander Kaspar released his breath and took in the magnificent views, while he skillfully guided the vessel into the ascending atmosphere.

  Behind him, the crew stared out across the blue skies, watching the racing white clouds rush by the windows, the thunderous engines propelling them into the greater unknown.

  Yellowstone National Park

  The splitting earth caught up with the rescue vehicles, separating the Earth beneath their tires, and swallowing them as if they were dietary pills.

  The ranger lost control of the vehicle and it titled to one side. It impatiently teetered, ready to fall into the Earth’s waiting chasm.

  “Say your prayers.” The ranger added one final Hail Mary, before the entire vehicle fell in, engulfed by the violent upheaval. Within seconds, the vehicle exploded into a raging fireball.

  Hayden Valley,

  Yellowstone National Park

  From high above, Nolan witnessed the horrific spectacle below as his team flew inside Hayden Valley, a section of the park located east of Old Faithful.

  “My God,” Nolan muttered gazing out across the expansive park. The red river swam through the center of the historic landscape, swallowing everything in its monstrous wake. Trees collapsed and caught fire, tires of cars and trucks sparked ablaze, while the scared, scattering tourists instantly perished underneath the intense heat. On the other side, the last of the rescue vehicles were falling into the crevices, smashing into each other along the way. Telephone poles crashed down, sending severed electrical lines waving around ready to ignite anything in their path.

  Nolan watched hundreds of people instantly vaporized within the mighty magma river His body went numb from the eruption below. He desperately wanted to save each one of them, but his own fear began to overcome him. Nolan struggled to regain his lost focus, and concentrate on those who he still could possibly save years from now if another eruption happened. His mind flashed images of Maureen He feared she was caught inside the super volcano’s chaotic explosion.

  “We need to drop them now, and then get the fuck out of here,” Nolan quickly stated.

  Director’s Office,

  Yellowstone National Park

  Raul Samson stared out his window, his mouth agape at the voluminous lava spray spurting out from Old Faithful. His finger reached for the red button on his cherry colored phone. Pressing it firmly, he waited for the familiar voice on the other end of the line.

  Raul gathered himself together and addressed the caller.

  “Mr. President, it’s underway.” Samson ran his clammy fingers over last year’s Christmas picture of his wife and daughter. “I understand. She’s been deployed...? Good. We are facing quite the battle, sir. We’ve won wars, eliminated Alzheimer’s disease, and found several cures for cancer through stem cell research, so we’re prepared for anything. Mother Nature is going to bitch-slap us, but we will rise through of all of this. The Abagail will hopefully be our savior and find a new way of life on Europa.” The phone went dead. Raul pressed the button and again stared out the window, this time becoming startled as several trees collapsed in front of his window with a thunderous ruckus.

  Hayden Valley,

  Yellowstone National Park

  The gathering pyroclastic cloud filled the skies, sending millions of microscopic rocks and debris raining down on the park.

  Nolan Drake peered out across the devastation, taking in what could be his last full breath. “Now!” he barked to his pilot.

  Carl’s hand jittered against the joystick, as the cloud swarmed around the chopper, filling the rotors with debris. “I’m losing her!” The chopper bounced around and the rotors slowly stopped spinning.

  “Timmy, drop the pay load!” Nolan shouted .

  Timmy pressed the button with a hard push of his right index finger. The clamps underneath the belly of the chopper released the detonators without fail, dropping the expensive payload directly into the epicenter of the mammoth lava flow, and disappearing into the magma below.

  “Hang on.” Carl lost control of the chopper. The helicopter careened to the Earth below.

  “It’s been my pleasure working with you guys,” Nolan called above the deafening roar. The rotors came to a complete grinding halt, sending the chopper in a manic free fall.

  Carl and Timmy echoed Nolan’s sentiment and braced themselves for the inevitable collision.

  Director’s Office,

  Yellowstone National Park

  Raul Samson stared in horror, watching Nolan’s chopper swerve before crashing into the park below, igniting into a blaze of fire.

  “Nolan,” Raul whispered. He watched the ferocious cloud steam rolling in his direction. Raul raised his arms in a meager defense of the impending collision, as the powerful kinetic force of the cloud shattered through the office window, obliterating everything in its destructive path.

  Aftermath

  8:05 A.M.

  Adrian Blakely caught sight of the changing atmospheres as the Abagail lifted them towards Jupiter’s moon Europa.

  “Does anyone think...?” Gillian was interrupted by a video conference call.

  “Adrian,” the president’s grim face flicked on the screen.

  “Yes, Mr. President.” Adrian shifted in his seat to get a better view of his plasma screen.

  “The unthinkable has finally happened down here.” the president said heavily. His face was ragged with the burden of innocent lives lost. His nervous ticks resurfaced; running fingers through his hair, he began to pick around the corners of his fingers, ripping away layers of skin.

  “The eruption?” Gillian asked.

  Forsythe nodded and folded his hands against his desk. “Yellowstone erupted at exactly 8 a.m. My friend, Dr. Nolan Drake, was able to drop detonators into the epicenter before we lost contact. This should give us some key data in preparing for another eruption. We are concerned that radioactive fallout from the uranium reserves underneath the magma chamber will take place.”

  “They should be able to gather precious intelligence from the eruption,” Adrian said.

  “Precisely.” President Forsythe was sweating, something Adrian had never seen before.

  “Anything we can do?” Adrian asked.

  “I will be giving my last State Of The Union address in a matter of minutes,” the president replied dourly.

  “Last one?” Philene interjected. “How far will the cloud spread?”

  “As of now, Colorado, Wyoming, Kansas, Nebraska, Utah, Idaho, Montana, and the Dakotas, will be smothered underneath this cloud within the next hour, choking the very life out of all its residents. Wyoming’s completely buried in lava and fire from the eruption.”

  “Ouch,” Ulysses said.

  “The cloud will hit the Pacific Northwest, the Ohio Valley and parts of the eastern seaboard by day’s end, including Washington, D.C. The southern states will feel the effects, when everything comes to a standstill underneath a nuclear winter type cloud that will smother the Earth’s lungs like a pillow until she can’t breathe anymore.”

  “We will make this trip a successful one,” Adrian promised the president. He noticed the crew’s fidgety behavior, as they chattered about missing their families and friends.

  “I want to personally thank each of you. You are our only hope. The last team we sent failed, and now it is your turn to give a rebirth to our people, our culture, and our democracy.” President Forsythe sat back in his chair and squared his shoulders. “Godspeed and God bless each and every one of you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President.” The entire team echoed the verse at the same time and the screen darkened.

  “Okay gang,” Adrian said to them. “We have a tall task ahead of us, but I feel we can do this.”

  “Amen,” Philene replied as she lowered her head in prayer.

  “Amen,” Gillian whispered as she cupped her hands in prayer.

  “Amen,” Seth and Angela responded as they tightly held each other’s hands.
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  “Amen,” Commander Kaspar closed his eyes.

  Ulysses offered a quick silent prayer, like the kind you do in grade school right after the Pledge of Allegiance.

  Adrian skipped the prayer process. He didn’t need to find the words to soothe the situation. In his own mind, Adrian Blakely was God. Everyone should be praying to him, throwing their hard earned nickels into his silver plated collection plate. He built the ship that saved a team from imminent disaster in order to colonize a distant moon that supposedly cradled fresh water and a viable, attainable atmosphere.

  The Abagail screamed through the stratosphere and into the dark recesses of space like a bat out of Hell.

  There But For The Grace of God

  (or Adrian Blakely)

  9:15 A.M.

  “We are witnessing the single most devastating natural disaster to occur in our time,” News Reporter Charles Ripley Jamison reported from the sidelines of the Nation’s Capital. He had to shout to be heard above the wind. “As you can see in the skies, the pyroclastic cloud that has wiped out the Central States has now made its way east and now threatens the Eastern States as well. The president is making preparations for what could be his last State of the Union address.” Jamison turned his attention to the panic in the streets.

  “It’s a complete circus here on 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.” Jamison scanned the raucous streets, his demeanor shifting from his usual cocky behavior to one of fear and concern for his own well being. “I’m being told that this cloud rains down on citizens and animals choking their airways with microscopic rock and debris that resemble shards of glass. A possibility of radioactive fallout concerns many of the citizens. Yellowstone National Park sits atop deep uranium reserves. Life as we know it could come crashing to a halt. Temperatures will drop, crops will die, livestock will perish, and the atmosphere will be blanketed with a nuclear winter cloud reflecting sunlight for at least a year.” Jamison adjusted his cheap polyester suit, as it started to stick to his sweaty skin. Jamison’s balding hair line was also covered in sweat. His entire face seemed to melt away from his cheek bones, and it became a challenge to keep his make-up artist happy. His clammy fingers slid up and down the black microphone.

  The winds had picked up, blowing around several pockets of debris, scattering broken trees, twigs, branches. In some cases, sheets of metal were violently ripped from the nearest billboards across the streets of Washington D.C.

  “We’re running out of time,” Jamison’s cameraman shouted at him.

  “One more final piece of information.”

  “Okay. Then, we get the fuck out of here.”

  “Deal.”

  Jamison’s small wisp of hair flapped in the winds. His skin itched inside the suit, one that he had bought at a discount clothing store for half the price of a real suit. He had been anticipating a promotion and wanted to look his best, at a lower price, of course. That didn’t seem to matter much now. This was going to be the last story he’d ever cover for the station.

  Off in the distance, another billboard rattled around wildly on its creaky hinges. On the face of the billboard was an ad for global warming.

  At a signal from the cameraman, Jamison pulled the mike up to his mouth. “The president will deliver what could be a final message of encouragement in this time of need.” He spoke into the camera earnestly, not even knowing what was left of his television audience.

  He heard a metallic tearing noise to his right, then had an odd feeling. When he turned, he witnessed a sheet of metal careening towards him. Unable to react, Jamison was instantly taken away by the brute force of the impact, sending a splattering of blood across the lens of the camera.

  “My fellow Americans.” President Forsythe graced America’s television screens once again. “We are in the midst of a national crisis. I will not lie to you,” he continued, although the pyroclastic cloud had cut off satellite signals, which caused many television sets to scramble the president’s signal. “We are suffering casualties beyond any previous calculations. Reports of heavy casualties in the West and Northwest are coming in hourly.” The signal flicked in and out, replaying every other word of the president’s speech.

  Outside the White House, the destruction from Yellowstone’s eruption was suddenly felt, as the cloud sent a wave of destruction hurtling through the chaotic region.

  The windows rattled, as the Oval Office came under siege of Mother Nature’s powerful grip.

  “Mr. President,” Senator Nestor addressed the nation’s leader. “This is it, let us hope they have made it safely out of Earth’s orbit.” The aging Senator thought of his daughter aboard the Abagail.

  President Forsythe’s startled glare into the television camera was one for the ages.

  “We are now under attack from this cataclysmic event,” he said to his fractured audience. “Embrace the ones you love, embrace your God, and pray,” President Jackson Forsythe closed his eyes and thought of his mother Alethea, and the greatness of his father, the infamous Dr. Quentin Forsythe. He felt the hair on his neck stand straight up, as one by one the windows exploded, sending their sharpened debris through the Oval Office.

  The walls started to split and the roof caved under the intense pressure of the volcanic storm outside.

  Richmond, Virginia

  Helene Tarrant touched the picture of her husband, listening to the storm bearing down on her small home in Richmond, Virginia. Tears strolled down her face and landed on top of Ulysses’ picture, sitting in his favorite chair.

  “I love you.”

  Her house rattled violently one more time before collapsing under the force of the fierce winds and debris. Yellowstone’s reach had stretched out across the entire Northern part of the United States obliterating everything in her path.

  Moscow, Russia

  Across the Atlantic Ocean in Moscow, Commander Kaspar’s ex-wife and sons were gathered in the living room watching the home made video of the Abagail’s departure from underneath New York Harbor.

  “We are witnessing a chance at survival as the president’s plan for colonization of Europa draws nearer. This was captured by a passerby and given to our affiliate stations. The time stamp is identical to the massive eruption inside Yellowstone National Park earlier this morning,” the reporter said as the picture behind him enlarged to show in full-screen the Abagail’s heroic departure. “Details are sparse at this time, but we have learned of the possible manifest of the ship’s crew members. This list was leaked to us by one of our contacts inside Washington.”

  Darcy Kaspar, Stefan, Walter, and Thaddeus Jr., glared at the screen, each with tears in their eyes.

  “Is daddy on that ship, mommy?” Walter asked as he continued to play with his toy airplanes in the center of living room.

  “Here’s the list,” said the reporter. “Billionaire Adrian Blakely, founder of Blakely Aeronautics, Commander Thaddeus Kaspar, Russian pilot, Ulysses Tarrant, Russian engineer, Dr. Philene Fanchon, French anthropologist and archaeologist, Gillian Shea, World-leading geologist, Dr. Seth Padgett, Doctor, Rollins Hospital, Rhode Island, and Angela Nestor, Communications Expert, West Point, New York, daughter of Senator Waters Nestor.”

  The reporter took a deep breath after reading the lengthy list. “Godspeed.”

  “Bye, daddy,” Thaddeus Jr. called out to his father.

  “Go save the world, baby,” Darcy whispered as she watched the Abagail zoom off into the sky. “Go save the world.”

  Yellowstone National Park

  Nolan Drake’s chopper was a crumpled heap, bars of steel bent around each other like a pretzel. The helicopter was tilted on her side, with Nolan stranded at the top in his seat, caught within the confines of his seat belt. The fire had started to engulf the entire chopper leaving Nolan Drake with little time for escape. The lava flow started its path towards the downed chopper, crawling along the ground fast.

  Nolan’s seat belt gouged itself deep into his hips, slicing away at his skin, leaving a flap . His shirt w
as stained with blood, not all of it his. Carl had been decapitated, sending his blood across the windshield and Nolan’s body.

  Nolan stared down at his lifeless friend with remorse. “Carl,” he whispered to his friend. “Timmy?” he muttered fidgeting with his belt. There was no answer.

  Time was a factor, and if Nolan wanted to buy himself a chance at survival, now would be the time to make a break for it.

  The remaining rescue vehicle was several yards away and he could make a dash for it. It was his only hope.

  “Timmy?” Nolan called again.

  When he managed to twist enough to see, Timmy’s body was a gnarled mess of broken bones and torn flesh. His eyes were glazed with fear, but he was alive.

  “Nolan...” Timmy’s lips barely moved and blood spilled from the corners of his mouth, dribbling down his chin.

  “Timmy, I’ll get you out of this.” But he knew he couldn’t save his young apprentice.

  “Go save yourself.” Timmy’s last words gave Nolan one last burst of energy.

  Nolan freed himself, landing on top of Carl’s headless corpse. He could still feel the warmth of Carl’s skin as he climbed to the top of the helicopter. Fire roared into the cabin immediately engulfing the Carl and Timmy’s bodies. There was nothing more he could do for them.

  Wincing, Nolan leapt high into the air, just as the helicopter exploded behind him.

  Nolan landed with a hard jolt on the hot soil. The sea of lava had reached the helicopter swelling over the metal like a swarm of hungry bees, swallowing the metal structure whole.

  Nolan raced for the retreating vehicle, knowing he wouldn’t catch it in time. He looked at the devastation that had swallowed the national park. His only means of escape would take him across the Yellowstone River, which was within walking distance from his current location. Once across, he would enter Fishing Bridge Recreational Vehicle Park, where several camping units were stationed. Nolan’s idea of finding an car, truck, or even a motorcycle, was his only chance at gaining an advantage on the lava flow.