by Bobby Akart
Her mother had handed her a backpack as she was being hoisted skyward into the rescue helicopter. It was full of her beloved toys and a change of clothes. And the journal. It was the only personal item of her parents that she had, and she referred to it often.
The light brown, suede leather cover had lost its brushed feel over the years. The pages inside were now ragged and stained by Ashby’s tears in places. They were her only memories, and despite the fact she could recite the words without referring to the journal, reading them from time to time helped her get through those dark moments when her memories of their death overwhelmed her desire to remember them alive.
Dawn arrived after another night of the earth shaking.
Ashby began reading from the pages of the journal that she avoided the most—their last day together.
I warned Casey that the volcano would erupt today. The smoke had continued to pour out of Pinatubo, thick enough to block the daylight and cause us all to remain in bed after another sleepless night.
I wandered outside and stood on the picnic table. Rays of sunlight shone on the ash-dusted flanks of Pinatubo and cast shadows down the mountain.
The volcano has been tormented with steam explosions and tortured by earthquakes for days. Yet, this morning, it seems to have regained some serenity. Could it be that it’s over? Were the warnings we’d received in Manila incorrect?
Ashby paused to push her long hair behind her ears. She’d forgotten her hair ties when she wandered out of the house and had left her ball cap on the bed. She chuckled as she admonished herself to get with it. She continued reading her mother’s words.
Perhaps it was the serenity and calm that woke me after just an hour of solid sleep. It may be the singing of birds, a sound that had escaped the jungle several days ago. Maybe it’s something else, which I’ll never understand.
I checked on Casey, who was finally asleep, and my darling Ashby. I wondered if she comprehended what was happening. She is old enough to sense the danger we are in, yet she doesn’t show it. When Casey wakes up, I must insist we leave. We’ve done our part and now it’s time to care for our daughter.
Anyway, here I sit, on top of the picnic table, writing another entry. This is a labor of love for us both. A diary of our lives as a family. One day, we’ll be old and gray, reliving these times in the Philippines. It has been an adventure, one that God has blessed us with. I am proud of the work we’ve done here, but sadly, I think it’s time to go.
Those were her mother’s final words in the journal—I think it’s time to go.
Ashby began to tear up as she recalled that fateful day. She had been frightened for days prior to their evacuation. But she didn’t speak up. She trusted her parents.
Besides, I was only a child. Why would they listen to me? If I had insisted, maybe they would have left. If Mom had written those words just a day earlier, we would all be alive.
Ashby wiped the tears from her cheeks. Then she frantically thumbed through the journal to find her father’s words. It was something he’d written that set the course for her life. The quote he’d found was scribbled on a page by itself.
Civilization exists by geologic consent, subject to change without notice.
She closed her journal and allowed these words to soak in. With a deep breath, she stared at the creek, mesmerized by the water. The geologic clock was ticking.
Chapter 46
Jake’s Cabin
Yellowstone
Jake made his way into the kitchen in a zombielike state. He’d stayed up late watching the frenzy of activity as Ashby and the gang hungered for data regarding yesterday’s earthquake. Jake was used to living alone, but now his living room lent the appearance he had nearly three dozen guests invading his cabin, even though there were only three.
He tidied up while the coffee brewed. Jake chuckled as he cleared the house of water bottles and soda cans instead of the customary empty Blue Moon bottles. Being chased down Sentinel Creek by a landslide had been a sobering experience for them all.
He filled his coffee tumbler and strolled onto the back porch. Jake noticed Ashby sitting alone next to the creek. He checked his watch. At five fifty, it was early, yet Ashby had beaten him to the punch. He’d noticed her coffee thermos was still inside, so he washed it for her and filled it with the perfect mix of cream and sugar the way she liked it.
Jake smiled as he completed the ordinarily mundane task. It felt good to take care of someone, even if it was just making coffee the way she liked it.
He started down the steps onto the dewy grass when something stopped him. Ashby was reading from a book. He didn’t know if she was religious, and it dawned on him that she might be reading the Bible or praying. The near-death experience had had a profound impact on them all, and perhaps Ashby was having difficulty dealing with it.
Jake wanted to get to know her better. He longed to be attuned to someone’s feelings again. To know whether Ashby needed comforting right now, or simply needed some alone time. Some space.
Ashby stood and stared at the creek, completely unaware she was being observed by Jake. He remained still, deciding what to do next.
“Good morning,” greeted Rita as she walked out onto the porch. Jake flinched as her unexpected voice startled him. “Oh, I’m sorry, Jake. I didn’t mean—”
Jake turned to her and smiled. “Nah, it’s fine, Rita. It’s just, well, I was going to take Ashby some coffee, but she seems to be deep in thought. Um, does she pray often? I saw her reading from a book. Maybe a Bible?”
Rita came down the steps and joined Jake. Now they both were watching Ashby.
“She does sometimes, but only when she misses her family,” replied Rita.
“Is she all right?”
“Yeah. She gets like this sometimes, especially on the anniversary of—has she told you what happened?”
“About the day her parents died? Yes. I don’t know all the background, but it must’ve been traumatic for her as a little girl.”
“It was, but it also made her a very strong woman,” Rita began. “Sure, she gets emotional like all of us. Sometimes, she turns to prayer to help her through. Other times, she reads her parents’ journal. It’s all she has left of them.”
“So sad.”
Rita paused for a moment and then she continued. “Jake, let me tell you something and I’m not overexaggerating. Ashby has a tremendous gift. Maybe it was ingrained in her because of what she went through at Mount Pinatubo that day. All I know is that her ability to sense the moods and changes of a volcano are deep-rooted in her brain. It’s more than being analytical. It’s almost psychic.”
Jake understood what Rita meant. He’d had an epiphany on the way to West Yellowstone the other day. He wondered if he and Ashby were on the same wavelength, or if he was simply getting caught up in the hype of their scientific research?
Jake nodded. “For her, it’s more than the science. It’s personal.”
“Yeah. The volcano is her nemesis. She considers herself to be in a high-stakes chess match, a real-life game of Clue in which she has to determine whether her nemesis is telling the truth or lying about its intentions.”
Jake laughed. “You guys talk like the volcano under our feet is alive.”
“That’s because it is, Jake. Think about it. Yellowstone breathes. It eats. It grows. And, most importantly, it belches too. Under our feet, as you say, there is a massive moving and changing magma chamber that we can’t see. Sure, our technology has the ability to create computer-generated models. You have to remember the computer is only as smart as the programmer. It may be able to analyze data quickly and then assemble it into a viable forecast model. But regardless of what the computer predictions may show, we don’t know anything to an absolute certainty.”
“You’re saying Ashby can sense the difference.”
“Yes, and I’ve seen her do it. She predicted Volcán de Fuego in Guatemala. The officials at CONRED, Guatemala’s emergency response agency, failed to heed her warnings.
The resulting loss of life saddened her at first; then it made her angry. She’s been on a mission since then.”
Jake continued to hold both tumblers of coffee. It was becoming awkward, and he was about to turn around to go inside when Ashby called his name.
“Hey, Jake! You got a minute?”
Chapter 47
YVO
Yellowstone
Jake offered to drive Ashby into the YVO at Grant Village, but she didn’t want him to be involved. She warned him that outward association with her might cause him difficulty with his superiors. Likewise, she insisted Rita and Dusty spend the day taking readings at Norris. If her theory was right, the three recent earthquakes were a harbinger of bad things to come.
She thumbed through her iPhone to locate her Train playlist and immediately found the song she was looking for—“Drops of Jupiter.” She paired her phone with the Jeep’s entertainment system and turned up the music. Seconds later, the windows were rolled down, her hair was blowing all around her head, and Ashby was singing at the top of her lungs.
What she was about to do might mean suicide for her career, but she didn’t care. Yes, she’d been wrong before, but she also had accurately called the Guatemala eruption. After a conversation with Jake this morning, a guy whom she trusted more than any other she’d ever been around as an adult, Ashby summoned the courage to confront Younger.
“Hey, hey, hey!” she sang, allowing her head to bounce back and forth on her shoulders.
She sailed past Old Faithful and the throngs of tourists waiting for the amazing show, not realizing any minute the ground under their feet could disappear, sucked deep into the molten earth below, before the caldera hurled what was left of them toward space.
“… acts like summer … walks like rain!”
The lyrics reminded Ashby there was still time to change. As she wheeled into the parking lot, flinging gravel off the knobby all-terrain tires, Ashby realized she’d know what that change looked like in the next fifteen minutes.
Ashby marched into the reception area, which had been cleaned up and put together since her last visit to the YVO. She decided to be polite, at first.
“Good morning,” she started cheerfully. “I’m here to see Mr. Younger.”
“Your name, please?”
“Dr. Ashby Donovan with NASA.” Ashby looked around to see if she’d been identified by anyone yet. A woman walked out of the restroom but barely gave her a second look. So far, so good.
The young woman behind the desk thumbed through a calendar book on her desk. “I’m sorry, Dr. Donovan, I don’t see an appointment with Mr. Younger. In fact, he doesn’t have anything scheduled until tomorrow morning’s conference call.”
“Well, someone must’ve forgotten to pass along the message to you. Would you mind letting him know that I’m out here waiting to see him?”
“Yes, ma’am, of course.”
After the woman walked away, out of curiosity, Ashby leaned over her desk and studied the scheduling book. At ten the next morning, a notation was made that read—FEMA, USGS, WH. WH?
“They let this idiot talk to the White House?” she muttered.
Ashby stood upright as she heard the heavy, plodding footsteps of Younger approaching. A jolt of anxiety overcame her as she vividly recalled their last confrontation. She hoped he had a different attitude.
“Whadya want, Donovan?” he barked his question.
So much for a different attitude. Kill him with kindness, she thought to herself. Or just kill him. It’ll be easier.
“Mr. Younger, I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot the other day. I have some information that—”
“Oh, well, why didn’t you say so?” Younger was mocking her. “Now, is this pre-press information, or is this something you’ve already spilled to the British girl who’s been running around the park asking questions of anybody who’ll talk?”
Ashby drew in a deep breath and remembered Jake’s suggestion before she left, which instantly produced a smile. You can’t fix stupid.
“Mr. Younger, if you’ll just take a moment to hear me out, then I’ll leave.”
He stood there, staring at her with a look of contempt on his face. “Well, it’s not like I have a choice anymore.”
Ashby was puzzled by his statement. She was about to speak when he demanded she follow him to his office.
The two of them walked through the cubicles, which was awkward in itself. Ashby was uncertain whether the scientists and support staff were required to avoid any form of contact with her or if they were fearful of interaction with Younger. Based upon Ashby’s experience with the man, she assumed the latter.
“Sit down,” he instructed brusquely as he shut the door behind them. Younger found his way to his chair and then he asked, “Where are you staying, anyway? I’ve had my staff looking for you since yesterday morning, and you’re not registered at any of the lodging within the park or the surrounding hotels.”
Ashby hesitated and then responded, “Um, we have sleeping accommodations in our van. Why were—?”
He rudely cut her off. “First, what information do you have for me? But before you answer that, have you given this information to the press? I’m sick of being beat over the head by higher-ups because you put out your press releases, or whatever it is you’re doing, and we know nothing about it.”
Ashby kept her composure under the overbearing assault of Younger. “I haven’t spoken with any reporters. We’re doing what we can, the best we can, considering you cut us out of the summer field program.”
Younger leaned back in his chair, rolled his eyes, and dismissed her statement with a wave of a hand. He got comfortable in his chair and told her to continue.
“I need to talk with you about yesterday’s quake and the seismic activity we’ve experienced over the last week to ten days.”
“Aftershocks, nothing out of the norm,” he barked. “Just because that bookshelf almost hit you in the head doesn’t mean the sky is falling. What else?”
“The swarm continues to center around the north end of the Eagle Bay fault,” continued Ashby. She pulled a computer-generated image up on her iPad and showed it to Younger. “Do you see the pattern indicating slippage at the epicenter? You’ll see the rupture didn’t occur uniformly across the entire fault plane. It traveled in a northerly direction at about three kilometers per second. The graphic shows some parts of the plane show significant slippage while the northern end didn’t show any at all.”
“What’s the point?”
“These are all indicators that asperities are forming,” replied Ashby. An asperity is part of a geological fault line that does not move because it’s stuck. Earthquakes begin and end at asperities.
“Come on, Donovan, I’m a geologist, remember?”
Ashby had never been so tired in her life, yet at this moment, she was totally awake and focused on the task at hand. “Mr. Younger, what if the quake we experienced at the YVO the other day wasn’t the first in the sequence? What if it was a foreshock?”
Younger sat up in his chair and leaned forward so his elbows rested on his desk. Ashby had his attention. “I don’t think that’s likely. A four-point-nine would be one heckuva foreshock, but continue.”
“Yes, I understand. As a geologist, you know one of the most difficult tasks we face is determining whether an earthquake is a foreshock or an aftershock. Naturally, we won’t know for certain until adequate time has passed to rule out whether an upcoming major quake is related.”
Younger interrupted. “Yesterday’s activity registered three-point-nine, less powerful than the first.”
“But fairly close. It could mean we’re in store for one more, most likely bigger than the first two.”
“A triple?”
“Yes, sir. Triples are not that unusual at intraplate settings like this one.” Most earthquake activity occurs where the planet’s tectonic plates bump against each other. A small amount of geologic activity takes place within the plat
e itself. The Yellowstone Caldera was one example.
Younger thought for a moment. “There was a triple in the Sudan in 1990. They hit over a five-day period.”
Ashby added, “In Australia, they had three magnitude-six quakes on the same day. Fortunately, it was in the middle of the outback.”
“Eighty-eight,” said Younger. “I remember.”
Ashby took a deep breath and made her proposal. “Mr. Younger, despite our differences, we are on the cusp of a serious situation. I have no desire to speak with the media, nor will I about this possibility. We’ll have a panic on our hands if it leaks out we are even contemplating this possibility. We don’t need people becoming hysterical.”
“You don’t watch the news much, do you?” asked Younger. “We already have it. These articles being passed around through conspiracy websites are now finding their way into the mainstream media. Food is being cleared off the shelves of grocery stores. ATMs run out of cash constantly. Gun shops are so inundated with purchases that background checks were halted because the government servers crashed. Hysteria? It’s already begun.”
Ashby sat back in her chair and closed up her iPad. She wondered to herself if her conversations with Ella had anything to do with the panic. She wasn’t sure what to say next when Younger continued.
“In any event, that’s why I was looking for you. Tomorrow morning at ten, we—and by we, I mean you and I—need to be in the conference room for a high-level conversation about Yellowstone with the heads of FEMA, the USGS, and, most likely, the president.”
“Me?”
“Yes, Dr. Donovan. Now, let me give you some sage advice and I hope you’ll take it to heart. If, or when, you’re called upon to speak tomorrow, don’t get all crazy with doomsday scenarios. If your data confirms your scientific theories, then present them clearly and cogently. Decisions are likely to be made that impact a lot of lives around here. Do you understand me?”
Ashby had been caught off guard. “Um, yes, I do.”
