Cataclysm

by Tim Washburn

  After two miles of harrowing travel, they break out into the valley. No rocky cliffs and no deep drop-offs, just rolling hills dotted with clumps of blackened trees. Tucker tries to turn on the entrance road, but has to veer out over the once-grassy terrain. He bumps over something solid and smashes his head against the roof.

  “Take it slow, Tucker,” Rachael says.

  “I don’t think we have time to slow down.”

  “It’s either slow or not at all. Another rock like that and we’re stranded.”

  “Uncle Tucker, what happened to all these cars?” Mason asks.

  Tucker glances at Rachael before answering and receives a shrug. “Fires swept through the park while all of you were in the mine.”

  Don’t ask, don’t ask, Tucker thinks.

  “Were there people in them?” Mason asks.

  He asked. Lie or don’t lie? Tucker goes for the middle ground. “Maybe in some of them.”

  “Gross. What happened to them?”

  Leave it to the twelve-year-old boy to ask for the gory details.

  Tucker glances at the mirror. “Matt, help me out here.” Tucker turns his focus back to the road. With another blockage ahead, he’s forced off the road. Driving slowly, he looks for unusual bumps in the ash and does his best to steer around them, jostling the passengers from one side of the coach to the other. Up and down, left and right, he struggles to navigate the terrain. As they near the Lamar River, he’s forced to bring the snow coach to a halt. “The bridge is blocked. Walt, anywhere to cross the river?”

  “Don’t know for sure.” He pushes open the back door. “But I’ll find us a place. How much water you think she’ll clear?”

  Tucker steps out to take a look at the undercarriage. “I don’t know, Walt. I’d say no more than a couple of feet, to be safe.”

  “I know it narrows down a few hundred yards to the east. Sit tight.” Walt walks off, kicking up clouds of ash.

  Sitting at idle, the engine dies. “Rach, let’s clean the filters while Walt looks for a crossing. Kids, now’s the time if you need to go again. And Mason, stay away from those cars on the road.”

  Rachael slides out of the vehicle, and she and Tucker begin cleaning the filters as Mason and Maddie make for the river. “Any springs around here?” Tucker asks.

  “Not that I can recall.”

  “Is the water in the river safe to drink?”

  “On a normal day, maybe. But with all this ash—no chance. There’s a natural spring that feeds McBride Lake but that’s a couple of miles north of here.”

  “Any chance we can get there in Old Yeller?”

  “I doubt it. It’s nearly impossible to walk, much less drive, unless you come in on the north side.”

  Tucker and Rachael finish with the filters and reattach them. Jess and Matt slip out to stretch. Walt comes walking back. “I found a crossing but it’s a little deep. Maybe closer to three feet or so.”

  Tucker looks over the exterior of the snow coach, trying to judge where three feet of water might hit. “Might work. Best shot we’ll have.” He shouts for Mason and Maddie and they wade back from the river, the ash nearly up to their thighs. Everyone piles back into the coach and Tucker slides behind the wheel. He nudges the starter and the engine cranks for three seconds before a loud grinding noise shrieks through the cabin and the motor grinds to a halt. He waits a few seconds and tries again. Nothing. He curses and stomps on the starter. A faint clicking sound is the only response.

  He rests his forehead on the wheel. “Matt, can you walk?”

  “I’ll give it my best shot.”

  “Kids, grab the canteens.” He turns to Rachael. “Can you get us to McBride Lake?”

  “It’ll be much easier if we skirt along the edges of Slough Creek.”

  “Is that in the direction we need to go?”

  “Yes.”

  Tucker swivels in his seat. “I guess we’re hoofing it. Best I can tell, the Montana state line is about five miles north. But even that won’t be safe. We need to go well beyond that if we’re going to survive a caldera-wide eruption. Matt—Walt and I will switch off helping you.”

  They exit the snow coach and Walt takes a moment to survey the sky. “I don’t know, Tucker. Might be best to bed down here for the night. Light’s almost gone and I don’t think we want to be wandering around in the dark.”

  They spend several moments discussing their options, but the discussion is interrupted when another explosion echoes across the park.

  “Is that the caldera?” Walt asks.

  Tucker shakes his head. “Another vent. When the caldera blows, we’ll all know it.”

  “Where do you think that eruption is?” Walt asks.

  Tucker and Walt look back toward the south. “My guess is it happened down by the lake. It didn’t sound very large, but it could generate another pyroclastic flow. We’ll need to keep a close eye on the horizon.”

  “And what the hell are we supposed to do if we see one?” Walt asks.

  Tucker scans the area. “The best option would be to get in the river and hunker down under the bridge. But I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

  Walt turns to face Tucker. “You mean, other than the whole damn thing blowing sky-high?”

  “Well, there is that.”

  Camp 28–Meridian, Mississippi

  Interview: Karl from Kansas City, MO—stock analyst

  “We were probably one of the last cars through the Northeast Entrance. Even with the windows up you could hear the approaching conflagration. Sounded like a freight train. Traffic was moving maybe five miles an hour, but steady, when I glanced in the rearview and just about crapped my pants. Those poor people. They didn’t stand a chance. There was a bunch of people who got out of their cars and started running, trying to get away. They just disappeared. It was a hurricane of fire destroying everything in its path. And God, the heat. Like standing in front of a blast furnace. It was touch and go on whether we’d make it or not. We made it to Red Lodge and I climbed out of the car. All the paint was blistered, like someone had run a torch across it. I have nightmares now. Those people running . . .”

  CHAPTER 71

  The Oval Office

  Ethan Granger taps on the door of the Oval Office and waits for a reply. Upon reply, he takes a deep breath and pushes through the door. President Drummond is sitting behind her desk, the phone next to her ear. Ethan walks across the carpet and sags into one of the chairs flanking her desk.

  The President is angry. “Listen to me, sir. I’m the President of the United States. Now get off your ass and make it happen.” President Drummond slams down the phone.

  “Who was that?” Ethan asks.

  “The asshole senator from Texas. Remind me to campaign against his ass when he’s up for reelection.”

  “What’s his problem?”

  “Henry signed a contract for a hundred thousand head of cattle out of Mexico. The senator refuses to fund the agreement. Say’s it’ll kill the cattle industry in his state.”

  “Did you tell him there most likely won’t be a cattle industry?”

  “He’s not convinced the volcano eruption will be as devastating as we’re making it out to be. And, yes, he’s one of those assholes who doesn’t believe in climate change.” President Drummond sighs. “What do you have?”

  “The governor of Colorado is requesting permission for the use of deadly force by National Guard troops to curtail the looting in Denver.”

  President Drummond stands and begins to pace. “Why are we worried about looters if we’re evacuating everyone?”

  “The evacuation in Denver is off the rails because the National Guard is trying to deal with the looters. But it’s not just looters. There’s been a significant increase in violence throughout the city.”

  The President’s pace quickens. “Is there a precedent for the use of deadly force?”

  “I don’t think the National Guard has fired on American citizens since Kent State
. There were rumors during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, but I don’t think those were ever confirmed.”

  The President pauses her pacing. “We’re not shooting American citizens on my watch.”

  “Is your stance going to be the same six months down the road?”

  “You mean when the shit really hits the fan?” President Drummond resumes her pacing. “I believe it will be. However, I do want the murderers caught and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. The National Guard is authorized to apprehend any citizens culpable of murder or other serious crimes. But I won’t allow the guard to turn their weapons on Americans.”

  Ethan watches the President pace for a few more moments, then says, “Maybe you should reconsider.”

  President Drummond walks back to her desk, hovering over her chief of staff. “No, Ethan, I won’t reconsider. Where’s this coming from? You’re about as far left as a man can go and still be in our solar system. You want to just herd the people up and start shooting? There’s a thing called due process, Ethan. One of the benchmarks this country was founded on.”

  Ethan looks up at his boss. “I understand due process, ma’am, but if we don’t get a handle on the violence now we may never stop it. Especially when the situation worsens. Safety of her citizens is also one of our country’s benchmarks. I just don’t want my country turned into an outlaw society like some dystopian novel.”

  President Drummond steps over to her chair and sits. She begins massaging her temples with her thumbs. “Why does this job have to be so fucking hard?”

  Ethan doesn’t answer. Eventually, the President stops the massage and drops her hands to her lap. “I can’t do it, Ethan. Joseph Stalin, Saddam Hussein, and a host of other two-bit dictators have murdered their own people. But this is the United States of America, the beacon of freedom and home to civil liberties. I will not be responsible for murdering her citizens. No matter what the future holds for us.”

  Ethan stands. “I’ll pass on your decision.”

  He turns for the door but is halted when President Drummond asks, “Am I wrong, Ethan?”

  He turns and walks back to the desk. “My brain tells me you’re exactly right, ma’am, but my gut clenches when I think of the potential violence ahead of us. I’m a lover not a fighter, ma’am, but we all may be fighters by the time this is over.”

  “If we are, we’ll fight as a united country, Ethan. Together we can overcome any obstacle.”

  “I certainly hope you’re right, ma’am. The alternative is a return to the feudal system where everyone takes what they want, no matter the consequences.”

  “Ethan, I swear to you as President that I’ll not let that happen. We’ll survive this disaster, and the next one, and the one after that, growing stronger as we overcome each adversity. This is the strongest nation on earth, not because we have bigger guns or a bigger purse. We’re strong because we are bound together by a single ideal—freedom.”

  “I agree with everything you say, ma’am, with one exception. Freedom’s not going to put food on the table. Hungry people do desperate things.”

  DAY 3

  CHAPTER 72

  The Winkler home, Townsend, Montana

  Ralph Barlow rolls out of bed before daybreak. He fumbles around for his clothes and tiptoes out of the guest bedroom, softly closing the door behind him. He makes his way through the house, his hand extended in front of him to keep from bumping into something. The aroma of brewing coffee draws him into the kitchen, where he finds Virgil sitting at the table.

  “Morning, Ralph.”

  “Hey, Virg. You always get up this early?”

  “Only when my friend is planning on sneaking out of the house without saying good-bye. Junie Bug any better?”

  “Cried most of the night. Finally fell asleep around two.”

  “Can’t say I blame her. You’re putting yourself in a precarious position by heading back toward Yellowstone.”

  “You know Tucker and you’ve met Rachael. They’re worth my effort.”

  “Not to rain on your parade, but how do you know they’re still alive?”

  “They’re both resourceful, and Tucker knows more about volcanoes than just about anyone I’ve ever met. If anybody’s alive it will be those two.”

  “Okay, say they’re alive. How are you going to find them?”

  “I’m going to track them if the ash hasn’t covered their tracks.”

  “Are you a good tracker, kemosabe?”

  “Funny. Can’t be much different than tracking game through the snow.”

  “Okay, the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. What are you going to do if the rest of the volcano blows?”

  “That one I don’t have an answer for. Pray, I guess.”

  “A prayer and two dollars might get you a cup of coffee.”

  “Not feeling very spiritual, Virg?”

  “Only when I’m in the woods. And it has nothing to do with all those fancy church buildings. You have a rifle?”

  “I do if I borrow one of yours.”

  “Gun safe’s in the same place, and I unlocked it. You can have the pick of the litter.”

  “I’ll grab one on the way to the truck. When are you thinking of heading up to Calgary?”

  “Probably the next day or two. Think that’s soon enough?”

  “I sure as hell hope so since I’m going to be prowling around down there.”

  Virgil pushes out of his chair and grabs a bag that sags in his massive hand. “I put plenty of food in here.”

  Ralph takes the bag. “Jeez, I’m not moving down there, Virgil.”

  “I expect they’ll all be hungry when you find them.”

  “Good point.” Ralph stops at the gun safe and grabs a rifle and a handgun. Virgil scoops up a couple of boxes of ammo for each and follows Ralph out to the truck, where Ralph stows everything in the backseat. “Andy made it out of Jackson, but he hasn’t answered any of his cell calls. I told him to head for June’s brother’s house in Arizona, but I’m not sure they’ll be able to make it that far.” Ralph eases the back door closed. “If Andy gets in touch with his mother, you okay with him heading up to Calgary if they can make their way up here?”

  “Hey, the more the merrier. I’ll tell her.”

  Ralph sticks out his hand but Virgil sidesteps it and wraps him in a bear hug. “I put a big ice chest full of drinks in the bed of the truck. I even included a case of my precious Bud Light.” Virgil steps back. “You take care of yourself, Ralph.”

  “I will, and thanks for looking after the girls.”

  “You’d do the same for me. Anyone staked a claim on April?”

  Ralph chuckles. “Don’t know. That’s something you’re going to need to ask.”

  “I might work my way around to it.”

  “Wouldn’t wait too long. I’d hate for her to get away.” Ralph climbs in, fires up the pickup, and backs out of the drive. The ash fall seems heavier as it reflects off the headlights. He makes a mental note to call Jeremy for an update around daybreak.

  An hour and a half later, Ralph makes the turn into Mammoth as the sun breaks on the horizon. What he sees takes his breath away. Mammoth Hot Springs is gone. He passes slowly through the area, his jaw sagging open at the desolation. Other than a few chimneys, the only thing left standing is the front facade of the old chapel. He stops on the outskirts to scout for sign and powers up the satellite phone. He meanders around the area while the phone searches for a signal. What he sees in the ash makes absolutely no sense. No tire tracks heading toward Mount Washburn. But there are faint ski marks in the ash along with some disappearing track imprints. While his mind sorts out what his eyes see, he checks the phone screen. He’s not really surprised to find no service, but that doesn’t lessen his dismay. He powers off the phone and tucks it into his pocket.

  Ralph walks a little farther down the road and squats down for a closer inspection. “What the hell is that?” he mutters. He stands up and heads back to the truck, studying th
e surroundings again. “Think this through, Ralph,” he castigates himself. After changing out air filters, he climbs back into the truck and leans back against the seat, letting his mind drift. He begins muttering again. “Most likely the fire burned all the vehicles. If that’s the case, what are the tracks?”

  After several moments of thought, he sits upright, smiling. “Clever, Tucker, really clever,” he mutters as he fires up the truck and eases down the road.

  Camp 27–Meridian, Mississippi

  Interview: Greg from Greeley, CO—retired electrical engineer

  “No, we weren’t at Yellowstone. We just happened to be lucky enough to live downwind from the damn thing. But yeah, I think unprepared is a good word. I worked for a power company before I retired and I can tell you we were, and still are, woefully unprepared for events such as this. I told them for years the grid was fragile. And I wasn’t the only one telling them that. There’s not enough redundancy and damn sure not enough replaceable equipment available. Add all that together with the hodgepodge network of grids across the country and you’re asking for trouble. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Midwest is without power for decades. And now all those people are jammed into this part of the country, where the power grid was already struggling to meet demand. It doesn’t bode well for the future, young lady. Your generation may be forced to relinquish all of your electrical gadgets just to have enough electricity to survive.”