Yellowstone: Fallout: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (The Yellowstone Series Book 3)

by Bobby Akart

  “For the benefit of our new arrivals, let me start with what I know from Sacramento,” began Bennita. “The bloated, inept bureaucracy led by the governor, that former mayor of San Francisco who presided over trash in the streets and needles in every alleyway, is collapsing. Law enforcement officers are walking off the job. Businesses are left unprotected, allowing looting to run rampant. Vehicles are being carjacked on the roadways.”

  “Jake, the folks in this room are advocates of creating a fifty-first state,” began Joe. “The state of Jefferson. When the ballot initiative to divide California into three states was struck down by the courts, the twenty-three northernmost counties renewed their efforts to create a separate state. Obviously, that’s not going to happen now, thanks to Yellowstone, but the mindset of those around us hasn’t changed.”

  “That’s right, Joe,” interrupted Bennita. “We’re very independent minded up here. While the ballot initiative is likely dead, we’re still prepared to go it alone without Sacramento’s help. The first issue we face is protecting our community.”

  Jake studied the determined faces of the men and women in the room. They appeared serious about self-governance, but he had to ask the question which weighed on his mind since the moment he pulled up.

  “I was born and raised in California but moved to Wyoming in my mid-twenties. Since then, several laws have passed regarding gun ownership and I understand many Californians are anti-gun. I can’t help but notice that you’re unarmed. That’s a real problem, frankly.”

  The room erupted in laughter. Joe stood and slapped Jake on the shoulder as he did. Puzzled, Jake looked around and noticed Ashby had stood up from her computer to see what the laughter was about.

  “Hey, Jake,” Joe began as he stood in front of a double door closet. “Here’s what we think about gun control.”

  He opened the door to reveal gun racks mounted on the wall from top to bottom. All types of rifles were lines up and there was a corresponding cabinet beneath each one for a sidearm.

  Joe explained. “It’s been a long-standing tradition that we check our firearms at the door during our council meetings. It dates back to the eighteen-hundreds when civil conversations turned deadly at times. Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t expect anyone to start shooting here. Heck, we don’t even argue. But, we believe in traditions, and this is one of them.”

  Jake stood and studied the array of weaponry. The group had all the bases covered. He even noticed a couple of the AR-15s had a full auto switch and bump-stocks which indicated they’d been modified.

  “How about ammo?” he asked.

  “A thousand rounds per weapon, except for Dan over there,” replied Joe. “He makes his own and assures us he exceeds our recommended par levels.”

  “Are you guys trained?” asked Jake as he turned to observe their faces.

  “You bet,” replied Bennita. “Women and children too. Jake, the media disparaged us daily for our lifestyle and beliefs. We believe in the United States Constitution and the right to bear arms via the Second Amendment. Of all the states where a family needs to be prepared for armed conflict, it’s California.”

  “The threat has changed, however,” added Joe. “The conflict will not be with the government. They can’t get their act together despite their best efforts. We’re prepared to defend our homes and families against those who come into our small community thinking they can take what they want.”

  Jake nodded and glanced over at Ashby who was intently pounding away on her MacBook while taking written notes at the same time.

  “How can I help?”

  “You’ve patrolled an area much larger than ours,” replied Joe. “We need to set up a perimeter security for Maple Creek and the surrounding homes. Any thoughts?”

  Jake thought for a moment and then he began. “First, a caveat. We never undertook a full evacuation of Yellowstone except just prior to the eruption. At that point, only a fool wanted to get up close and personal to the supervolcano. That said, we did cordon off sections due to landslides, melted asphalt, and the occasional crime scene.

  “During my annual training, one of the topics we covered was active shooter situations which included defending the government offices at the park. After Oklahoma City, and the several mass shootings around the country, our superiors felt it was necessary to touch on the basics.”

  “Okay,” said Joe. “What can you tell us?”

  “As a general rule, the farther away from an area’s geographic center, whether it be a single building, or a small town, like yours, the more difficult the task becomes. The larger the perimeter, the more manpower or technology required to secure it.”

  Bennita interjected her thoughts. “We don’t have any electronic security devices, other than what is designed for our homes.”

  Suddenly, Ashby shouted from the dining table. “Don’t count on having power. Small utilities are reporting cascading grid failures throughout eastern Oregon, northern Nevada and Utah. As the fallout infiltrates electricity turbines and generators, the equipment fails. This is spreading to other, adjacent electric utilities.”

  Bennita asked, “Is it going to happen here?”

  “Most likely,” replied Ashby who turned her attention back to the computer.

  Jake stood and paced the floor. “It doesn’t matter. Well, at least as far as perimeter security is concerned. Our cell phones can’t find a signal. Are you guys having difficulty too?”

  Joe replied. “Yes. It’s been that way for a few days. The landlines are still working.”

  “That’s good, but you’ll need more,” said Jake. “Joe, do you and anyone else have air horns as part of your boat’s safety devices.”

  Joe nodded as did several others in attendance.

  “Good,” Jake continued. “That sound is loud, and easily recognizable. If we can gather enough for all the homes, it will be an excellent way to issue warnings.”

  “How will we know who’s who?” one of the women asked.

  “Assign letters or numbers based upon morse code,” replied Jake. “For example, my last name starts with W. My warning signal would be a quick blast, followed by two successive long blasts. I’d count to five and then do it again.”

  “Our last name is White,” said another attendee.

  “Okay, then you might be W one and I would be W two. We would be assigned a combo of a letter and a number.”

  “I like it,” said Joe. “What about roadblocks? We have five roads leading in.”

  Jake replied with questions of his own. “Do you have any barricades at the school? You know, for crossing guards or anything like that?”

  “We do,” replied one of the women who identified herself as a teacher. “There are extras in the back that we’ve held onto since construction years ago. They’re hard plastic and still sturdy.”

  “There you have it,” said Jake. “We’ll identify locations nearest your homes on the incoming roads. Block them off and force incoming traffic to slow. You may or may not allow them to pass, at your discretion.”

  “Jake, we have a few sets of two-way radios also,” said Joe.

  “Good, assign them to the road blocks.”

  Ashby returned to the room and nodded at Jake. She’d slung her messenger bag over her shoulder and then tilted her head toward the front door.

  Jake picked up on the clue. “You guys know the roads and where you live. The first step is to assign areas of responsibility and then apply morse code designations to everyone.”

  “We can google that,” said Bennita. “You can have W one.”

  Ashby interrupted. “Two. We’ll take W two. It wouldn’t be fair to the Whites who are permanent residents.”

  Jake furrowed his brow, wondering why Ashby would countermand Bennita. He’d come to accept her impulsiveness and he wondered why this point was important to make.

  Joe shrugged. “Well, um, sure. Makes sense.”

  Ashby made a move toward the door and Jake followed her. He still
had a lot of questions to ask but Ashby seemed in a hurry.

  Bennita was caught off guard and simply stood to thank them both for coming. She invited them back in the morning at the same time and Jake made a hollow promise to attend.

  After they stepped onto the porch, Ashby took Jake by the arm and marched him toward the motorhome.

  Jake whispered to her. “That wasn’t very subtle.”

  She feigned a smile and looked back over her shoulder as she waved goodbye to the Barnetts.

  “I’m sorry, Jake. I couldn’t hide my emotions from these nice people.”

  They reached the far side of the Bounder where he finally stopped her and looked her in the eyes. Tears were streaming down her face.

  “Ashby, what’s wrong?”

  “Jake, we can’t get comfortable here.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s coming.”

  Chapter 6

  The Mad House

  Near Maple Creek, California

  Ashby gathered herself as Jake pulled away from the bed and breakfast. As they drove back to the Mad House, she relayed her findings. “I’ve accessed the servers at NASA and the USGS. The USGS has updated its models based upon the widening caldera and what is being generally accepted as a VEI nine-point-oh eruption of Yellowstone. NASA satellite imagery is current as they have maintained the OCO-3 in a fixed orbit satellite above Yellowstone.”

  Ashby took a deep breath and sat sideways in her seat to address Jake. “The amount of carbon dioxide and sulfur dioxide emissions are double what I’d ever projected. Perhaps more.”

  Jake interrupted. “Are you saying the mushroom cloud is spreading westward, ignoring the prevailing westerlies?”

  “Yes. I thought it would dissipate by the time it reached Central Idaho, based upon prior scientific data, of course. When that final eruption hit us at Pressley’s Farm, in Central Oregon, the amount of fallout we encountered was truly unexpected.”

  “We measured about a foot,” commented Jake.

  “That was two days ago. The sheriff we met has reported forty inches in Burns.”

  “Okay,” Jake began. “Still, we’re four-hundred-fifty-miles away from Burns with a major mountain range to cross. The winds off the Pacific should knock the fallout down before it reaches us.”

  Ashby opened her laptop and entered several keystrokes. Jake had arrived at the house and brought the motorhome to a stop. He glanced at the fuel gauge which had sunk even further toward empty. Every vehicle he’d owned in his life barely moved the needle when it was full, but after a quarter of a tank, it seemed to drop rapidly. Finding diesel fuel would have to be a priority.

  Ashby first brought up an image of the ash fallout from previous Yellowstone eruptions.

  “This shows how widespread the fallout was at the last eruption, as well as the first one over two million years ago. It also shows the progression of the caldera’s movement from the southwest toward the northeast as the tectonic plates shifted over time.”

  “Wouldn’t that mean that the fallout would shift that way as well? In other words, farther away from California?” asked Jake as he rose from the driver’s seat and assisted Ashby up as well.

  “There are two factors which modify the historical fallout map. One, is the size of the eruption. Two, is the current status of the winds.”

  Jake opened the side door and Ashby followed with her nose in the computer. She stumbled somewhat as her feet hit the ground, completely unaware that Jake had braced her to avoid a couple of skinned knees.

  “Look,” she said as they began walking toward the front porch. She pointed to a map of the Pacific Ocean and Northern Hemisphere with numerous yellow and blue arrows pointing from west to east. “The ash fallout has stretched around the mid-latitudes already. By blocking out the sun, the winds crossing the Pacific have lessened considerably. Nothing is pushing back against Yellowstone’s eruptive material. The mountain and valley breezes which usually dominate the wind patterns in variable terrain aren’t strong enough.”

  “Ashby, I see a bunch of arrows, but I don’t understand.”

  “The rotation of the Earth causes the winds in the Northern Hemisphere to blow from the southwest and across the U.S. Because of the extraordinary force of the winds caused by the supereruption, those winds are being forced down and away from Yellowstone. They are taking a more southerly route through Central California and across Southern Nevada.”

  Jake stopped to study the computer screen. After a moment, Ashby switched to a tab marked predictive model. An image appeared that was hand-drawn by Ashby. A large misshaped circle appeared over the Western Mountain states and extended down into California. It revealed a series of white circles emanating outward from a large yellow circle in the vicinity of Yellowstone.

  “What am I looking at?” asked Jake.

  “The lines I’ve drawn represent estimated ash fallout in inches originating from the large, yellow circle over the vicinity of Yellowstone.”

  “Does the forty-inch designation apply to the caldera and its immediate vicinity?”

  “No, the new caldera is shown in yellow,” replied Ashby. She pointed to the first circle. “The second circle, stretching from just shy of the Pacific Ocean into the Great Plains near Nebraska and South Dakota, represents the amount of fallout I’m predicting.”

  Jake was stunned. “Forty inches? That far away?”

  “Yes. The eruption is easily a VEI 9, Jake. The caldera has doubled in size. My predictive model may actually be conservative.”

  They sat on the front steps and continued their conversation before going inside. “But, we might not get forty inches, right? I mean, it appears we’re located on the outer reaches of this ring extending into California.”

  “That’s true, but at a minimum, we’ll get a foot of fallout. Do you remember what it was like at Pressley’s Farm? That’s what we’re facing in a matter of days.”

  “When?”

  Ashby laughed. “That’s a question I’ve asked, and been asked, virtually of my career. Based upon my review of the time-lapse imagery from OCO-3, I would say we’ll have six inches by the day after tomorrow and more than a foot after seventy-two hours.”

  Jake stood and wandered into the yard covered with pine needles. He mindlessly kicked at the two-inch-thick needles, imagining what a foot of fallout would look like in these beautiful surroundings. His eyes looked skyward at the massive redwoods which surrounded him. There roots were strong, allowing them to grow to their massive size.

  “Ashby, these trees are gonna die here, aren’t they?’

  “Yes, and so will we if we don’t make a decision.”

  Jake grimaced and turned back toward Ashby. “Okay, let’s go over our options. How about down by the river? If we have to leave, I want to remember this place for how it looks right now, not covered in a foot of ash.”

  Ashby joined him, and they walked hand-in-hand down to the water’s edge. The water levels had dropped somewhat and the steady sound of the river splashing over rocks was subdued. Jake left Ashby at the picnic tables and walked down to the water’s edge. He kneeled at the water line from the day before. It was obvious the river’s level had receded.

  He turned to Ashby. “Is it possible that the eruption is drying up the water supply?”

  “Yes, but it’s surprisingly early,” she replied. “An increased water demand is common following ashfall, especially as the cleanup process begins. However, the fallout hasn’t hit this area yet. Are there any dams or reservoirs upstream?”

  Jake thought for a moment and replied. “Yeah, there is a reservoir, but its miles away. And, it’s southwest of here. I don’t think the ash would’ve impacted them yet.”

  “What about its origin? The reason I’m asking is rivers meander and if it works its way back to Oregon, then we could be seeing the impact on California’s water supply already.”

  “I’ll have to study a map,” began Jake before Ashby interrupted.

  “But
, Jake, it really doesn’t matter at this point. We can monitor the waters turbidity, acidity, and test for other potentially toxic elements. In two days, it won’t matter as the river will be contaminated.”

  “You make it sound like we don’t have a choice.” Jake was becoming increasingly dejected. “It sucks. I had this vision of us riding out the apocalypse together. Right here.”

  Ashby approached him and hugged Jake around the waist. “We could try farther south. How about your home in Silicon Valley?”

  Jake gave a slight shrug and mumbled. “This was my home. I could see ourselves spending a lifetime here.”

  She turned him around and kissed his wet cheeks. “We can always come back. Rebuild if we have to. Silicon Valley and San Jose is several hundred miles south, right?”

  “Yes,” whispered Jake.

  “Let’s look at it this way. Our adventure isn’t over yet. We have a rolling house. If your parent’s place doesn’t work out, we move south and sleep in the motorhome. We’ll find a way.”

  Jake thought for a moment about their options. He and Ashby had experienced the dark side of humanity in Oregon. He had no idea what perils they’d face near San Francisco and San Jose two highly populated areas. In this case, the unknown was better than the fallout which would cover them in the coming days.

  Chapter 7

  The Governor’s Office

  Sacramento, California

  California had a history of dealing with its state prisoners during a catastrophe. When the water levels behind Oroville Dam in the Sierra Nevada foothills east of the Sacramento Valley rose during massive flooding, the rarely-used emergency spillway was opened for the first time in the dam’s fifty-year life. The rainy season of 2016 into 2017 was Northern California’s wettest in over a hundred years. As the heavy rainfall flooded the Feather River, the spillway was opened to relieve pressure on the dam. However, the actions undertaken by California’s Department of Water Resources were too late.

  Their late reaction to the impending disaster resulted in a risky, spillway flow of water, measuring an additional fifty thousand cubic feet per second. This caused the concrete and foundation of the dam’s structure to quickly erode.