The Year Without Summer: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller

by Hunt, Jack

  “It depends.”

  “On what?”

  “Are we talking about a full eruption or just a small one that pushes lava out like toothpaste?”

  “A full,” Logan said.

  “It’s speculative at best right now but a column of ash and lava would shoot upwards to around sixteen miles high with the molten layer traveling as far as 500 to 1,000 miles away. Hot scalding ash would be pumped into the jet streams and be transported around the stratosphere. It would move at speeds of up to 300 miles an hour. A mixture of ash, lava blebs and superheated gas at temperatures higher than 1,832 celsius would kill people within seconds and burn those beyond as the air heats up. Anyone within the national park, and surrounding states would no doubt be wiped out. Though that’s just from the initial blast. The ash fallout would be colossal. You are looking at something that is six times denser than water so buildings would collapse under its weight, roads and sewer systems would clog up and break down. Water supplies would be contaminated, and the electrical grid would short out. Air travel would be suspended. Sending out search and rescue teams would be pointless, as the area would be blanketed in high levels of volcanic residue. Two thirds of the United States would be uninhabitable.” She took a breath and glanced out then squinted from the glare of the sun. “Even the smallest amount of ash would travel as far as Calgary, Winnipeg, Chicago, Toronto, Washington, D.C., and New York, and essentially send the United States into a volcanic winter. FEMA would be cleaning up for months, even years after. The death toll is hard to predict but it’s clear the devastation would be vast.” She took a deep breath. “But that wouldn’t be the worst of it. All that ash injected into the stratosphere would cause the skies to darken and the temperature to cool. That could affect the world as a whole, if only by a few degrees Celsius. You see when Pinatubo erupted back in 1991, it cooled down the planet by about 1 degree Celsius for a few years. And when Tambora in Indonesia back in 1815 occurred, it was so devastating it disrupted the weather system and cooled the planet enough to damage crops, and cause epidemic disease and civil unrest around the world. That’s why 1816 was known as ‘The Year Without Summer’. And those were fairly small eruptions in comparison to what could happen with Yellowstone.” Catherine glanced out the window as they got closer to Death Gulch. “It wouldn’t just be life, weather and agriculture that would be affected. It would damage the economy. An eruption could put the total U.S. damage at around three trillion dollars. So, while it may not be the end of life on the planet it could certainly throw the United States back into the dark ages and into a volcanic winter. Now having said that, that’s going on the basis that we experienced a full eruption, a complete unzipping of the caldera.”

  Logan grimaced. “So with all things said, the future would be bright.”

  Catherine chuckled and shook her head.

  The pilot brought the helicopter down into a flat area where many of the trees had died. It was a very eerie feeling as they touched ground and looked out at the barren wasteland. It was a stark comparison to the lush, rich greenery found elsewhere in the park.

  “Here, put this on,” Hank said twisting around and handing them each a gas mask.

  “Are you serious?” Logan asked.

  “It’s your lungs.”

  He took it and all three of them ducked out from beneath the whip of the rotors and made their way over to a group of three team members from the USGS who were waiting nearby.

  “Where’s Rebecca?” Catherine asked noticing she wasn’t with them.

  “She’s with the van back at Highway 212,” Mark Bowman replied.

  “Oh, poor woman. Did she not want to break a heel?” Catherine said in jest. Mark gave a nod of his head towards an area where they’d set up their instruments. They were planning on doing some tests and then heading to the northeast side of the park to see what NASA was doing.

  “Hank, were the bears the only animals you saw?” Mark asked.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Looks like we have some more.”

  He led them down into the gulch. It was a steep incline, rocky and treacherous. Most of it was white, decomposed rock with small oozes of water coming from the slopes. Steam spiraled up from areas, and a thick, creamy, white deposit covered what was left of the stream bed below. As they came around a large field of boulders, they noticed further down inside the gulch the carcasses of some more bears, along with elk, and small animals like squirrels and hares. “Oh, God, that’s awful,” Hank said.

  “We’ve also been getting an increase in micro earthquakes. Multiple over the last hour.” Mark led them over to an open laptop that was hooked up to a seismic monitor.

  “Have you been down to check on the carcasses?” Hank asked.

  “What, to see if they’re fresh? They look fresh to me.”

  “No, to take samples.”

  “No, we’ve had our hands full.”

  With that said he got on the radio to the van, and Catherine heard Rebecca’s annoying voice. It was just like her to send her team in while she hung back, probably sipping on a latte and scrolling through her social media feed. The woman was a total diva. Catherine had some ideas of how she’d managed to wiggle her way into the position as scientist-in-charge. She thought about those in office who would sit slack-jawed as she wore a low-cut dress and gave presentations at the front of a boardroom. The lack of concentration was a surefire giveaway.

  “Well I’m heading down,” Hank said.

  “I’ll go with you,” Catherine said, eager to take a closer look. Logan followed as they pitched sideways and worked their way around boulders and what remained of trees. The site looked as if a plane had swooped down and cut into the earth, tearing up the soil, and snapping trees in half.

  “Hank, have you been over to see the equipment NASA is using?”

  “Yeah. Though they didn’t let me get very close.”

  “And so you’ve seen a correlation between the seismic activity and the time of when they started drilling?” Catherine asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “And you didn’t say anything?” Logan asked looking almost dumbfounded.

  “Of course I did but my words fell on deaf ears. You know how things operate around here better than anyone else, Logan.”

  As they got closer to the carcasses, the smell of death lingered in the air. Hank said there was a possibility that animals were dropping dead in this location because of the concentration of gas emanations, and the way the gulch trapped it in. Hank crouched down, slipped on a pair of blue latex gloves and examined the bear. “No signs of bullet wounds, or any marks of injury, and there is no sense that it died from violence but there are a few drops of dried blood beneath its nose.”

  “Same over here,” Catherine said.

  “And here,” Logan muttered.

  While a few of the carcasses were decayed, the rest were fresh, indicating they hadn’t died that long ago.

  “It’s possible the bear made its way down after catching the scent of the dead animals and was asphyxiated by the gas trapped in the pocket of the gulch.” Catherine removed her mask for a second to get a sense of what they were dealing with. A strong smell of sulfur overwhelmed her, almost instantly choking her even though a strong wind blew through the gulch. She covered her face, and then took samples.

  Logan rose and cast a glance around shaking his head. “I’m going to head up and speak with Mark,” Logan said. “I want to know what ideas they have about the fish in the lake, and to check if anyone has been there yet.” Catherine gave a nod and continued to gather a few earth samples; she wanted to compare them with different samples taken throughout the park.

  “Hank,” Catherine said.

  “Yeah?”

  “If we are on the brink of an eruption we won’t have a lot of time to evacuate people. If you are even the slightest bit unsure about the stability of the caldera, I would suggest having the superintendent put this park on evacuation notification.”

  “I
’m afraid I’m not the one with the final word. What I say carries weight but ultimately it comes down to the USGS.”

  She sighed. That meant relying on Rebecca to make the call and she had a habit of holding back to avoid marring her name. It was less about how the businesses in the surrounding area would suffer if it was a false alert, and more about maintaining her flawless status as scientist-in-charge. She sighed. Worst-case scenario, at least if Hank saw that trouble was brewing, together they might be able to convince the superintendent to at least reconsider.

  She screwed the top on a steel sample container closed and pocketed it. “Well, once we compare these with a few areas on the northeast, west and south, we should have a better idea of what is going on. Let’s head up,” she said.

  “Be right with you.”

  Catherine began working her way up the precarious V-shaped trench that was just less than seventy-five feet deep. She hadn’t made it ten yards when a noticeable rumble began. At first the shaking was very subtle, then it got stronger, and stronger. Boulders gave way and came rolling down causing her to leap out of the way. Further down, Hank was trying to steady himself against one of the dead bears. Catherine figured it would stop soon but it didn’t. It continued and grew in strength until the whole gulch was shaking violently. What came next was shocking. Like steel beams snapping on a bridge, a fissure formed in the center of the gulch stretching down, opening like a pair of lips to reveal its rocky teeth.

  “Hank!” she yelled.

  He tried to move but the ground was shaking too hard and he lost his balance, landing on top of the lifeless bear. In the next second, the bear dropped into the rocky abyss. The last thing Catherine heard was Hank cry out. Grit shot into the air along with a plume of dust making it hard to see anything. Catherine hung on to a large boulder for dear life. She could hear Logan calling out to her but couldn’t make out what he was saying. In that moment fear took over. This is it. This is it, she told herself. The caldera was about to explode and in a matter of seconds she would be gone.

  But it wasn’t it.

  Molten lava didn’t emerge from the 200-foot fissure, and when they didn’t think the shaking would stop, it did, like a light switch being turned off. Still clinging to the boulder, Catherine looked down through the murky deluge of steam, dust and grit for Hank. All she could see was the giant gaping crack in the earth.

  “Catherine, wait!” Logan yelled from further up. But she didn’t wait. She scrambled down, nearly losing her footing and tumbling forward. She somehow managed to avoid going head first into the ground. Without brushing off the grime, she got back up and continued on down calling out to Hank but getting no reply. When she made it to the edge of the fissure she waved a hand in front of her face to clear the air of dust.

  “Hank!”

  She moved further up the crack searching for him. All the while Logan and the team were making their way down. She could hear them calling out to her to be careful but she wasn’t thinking of her own safety in that moment. She just wanted to find him.

  Seconds passed, then minutes before she spotted him buried beneath dead animals and rocks. She could tell that if he wasn’t dead, he was badly injured as the rocks and weight of the animals had pinned him in and blood was trickling down into the steaming crack. “Hank! Hank!”

  Logan caught up with her and pulled her back.

  “No. Get off.”

  “Catherine. Let me go and check.”

  She took a few steps back while Mark tossed a yellow rope to Logan and they tied it around two trees before he threw the rest into the crack and he went over to check Hank’s vitals. Maria, one of the other USGS team members, wrapped an arm around her.

  It was a tense few minutes as Logan worked his way down to Hank.

  Then what she feared the most came true.

  “Pull me up. He’s gone.”

  Chapter 14

  Rangers were everywhere but that was to be expected even on a normal day. Yellowstone had over 773 rangers in the peak of summer, most were permanent, and the rest were brought in from other parks to carry the weight of the heaviest tourist season. Even though Billy was familiar with how they operated because he’d grown up spending most of his teen years in the area of Yellowstone, and had an uncle who worked for them at one time, seeing this many on the road was unnerving. They were usually spread out throughout the park doing mundane jobs like giving tours, maintaining trails, cleaning up graffiti, protecting the park and people, dealing with wildlife, interpreting, manning the entrance points, providing directions, and generally giving out the same useless information to clueless tourists. There was no way in hell he would have done the job. He saw the kind of crap they had to take from groups of drunks, and the risks they took when they came under fire by a trigger-happy protester. But as long as there were national parks there would always be those in khaki pants and funny hats.

  They were crouched down in the tree line not far from Bridge Bay Marina watching an unusual scene play out. The parking lot was packed with vehicles. Every parking space was taken up, many filled with news vans with antennas on the top. Cables snaked out of vans across the lot over to the dock where hundreds of curious onlookers watched as if preparing for a big fireworks display.

  “What’s the media doing here?” Wyatt asked.

  “Better question, how the hell did they manage to catch that many fish?”

  Several large boats hauled in nets of fish, emptying them out along the wooden docks. There had to be thousands inside the netting. In all his years visiting the park Billy had never seen anyone bring in that many. There had been some impressive catches when they ran tournaments but those paled in comparison to the pile of fish before them.

  “Well, who cares? It makes for the perfect distraction. One of these vehicles has to have a gasoline canister. We might even find a full one.”

  “Yeah, and maybe we’ll escape the strong arm of the law,” Wyatt said sarcastically, then dashed out of the tree line at a crouch. The parking lot was about a hundred yards from the forested area. They’d agreed that Wyatt would go in just in case Billy was spotted. He didn’t think they’d be able to identify him as he’d already changed out of his clothes into ones stolen from Bridge Bay Campsite, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He chuckled to himself at the thought of some unlucky soul returning to his tent to find a pair of jeans, a sweater, a jacket, forty bucks, and a packet of smokes gone. Billy tapped out one, and lit it. He inhaled deeply letting the nicotine calm his anxiety. His eyes darted between the rangers dealing with crowd control and Wyatt who was checking the back of trucks for a gasoline can.

  Several minutes passed and Wyatt disappeared out of view.

  Billy nervously tapped his fingers against his knee and bit down on his lower lip. “C’mon. C’mon,” he mumbled. He shifted position trying to get a bead on where Wyatt had gone. The parking lot was huge and because there were so many vehicles he figured he was farther down. As he moved along the tree line he noticed a female ranger peering over the heads of a group of young teens. She seemed to be focused on the parking lot.

  “Shit.” Billy watched as she squeezed her way through the crowd heading for the lot. Had she seen Wyatt? If so, why hadn’t she called for assistance from some of the other rangers nearby? Think. Think. He thought of calling out to him but that would have only given away his position. The ranger pressed on, slipping through the masses. No. They couldn’t afford to get caught. Not now. Not after Wyatt came back. Against his better judgment, Billy dashed out and sprinted across the open field into the parking lot, his eyes scanning for his friend. He was nowhere to be found. “Wyatt?” he said in a hushed tone. No response. He slipped passed multiple vehicles, looking both ways. It was like being in a huge open store, glancing down aisles.

  Billy ducked behind a truck as the ranger came into view heading to the north end of the lot. Damn it. He rounded the end of the truck and broke into a sprint while staying low. Wyatt had to be at the far end. No sooner
had he made it six vehicles down than he spotted him in the back of a truck rooting around.

  Without even saying his name, he hopped up onto the truck and pounced on him bringing him down hard. The truck’s suspension bounced a little. With his hand clamped over his mouth he whispered into his ear to stay quiet and slip out the end of the truck. Quickly they hopped out and ran at a crouch. They had just ducked behind a vehicle when they heard the ranger’s voice.

  “I see you there. Come on out.”

  Billy squeezed his eyes tight. The last thing he wanted was to have to hurt another ranger — especially a woman. He slowly reached down for his knife, taking a firm grip on the handle.

  “You’re not fooling anyone. Now unless you want to get into further trouble then I recommend you step out.”

  Wyatt glanced at Billy and he shook his head. His mind was churning over their options. He could round the front of the truck while Wyatt distracted her and then creep up behind her. She wouldn’t know what hit her, or…

  “Jordan, get out here now!”

  Both of them frowned. Jordan?

  Billy lowered himself to the gravel surface and looked beneath the truck. One truck over he saw the suspension bounce a little and then a pair of white Nikes hit the ground.

  “Your mother is going to hear about this.”

  “Whatever,” the kid said as the ranger clasped hold of him and led him away.

  Billy breathed a sigh of relief, and then he started chuckling. “For a minute there I thought our number was up. I was just about to go all Michael Myers on her ass.”

  Wyatt let out a deep belly laugh and slapped him on the back. “We’ve been in this park far too long.”

  “You’re telling me. Did you find a gasoline canister?”

  “Actually I found something even better.”

  Wyatt reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys and dangled them in front of his face.