Cataclysm

by Tim Washburn

Genres: Action & Adventure; Suspense

Synopsis

" Washburn brings a new kind of terror. "--Marc Cameron FIRST THE GROUND SHAKES . . . At Yellowstone National Park, earthquake tremors are common. But today, park scientist Tucker Mayfield detects something different: a disturbing new increase in activity--and intensity . . . THEN THE LAVA RISES . . . Lurking beneath the park's natural wonders, earth's largest supervolcano begins to awaken after 640,000 years. If--or when--it blows, two-thirds of the North American  continent will be destroyed . . . NOW THE WHOLE WORLD TREMBLES . . . IN FEAR Racing against time, Tucker Mayfield mobilizes a team to evacuate all visitors from the park--including his family at the Old Faithful Inn. But when the earthquakes intensify, and the death toll rises, a shockwave of panic spreads across the nation. Troops are deployed, emergency plans activated. But nothing can stop a natural disaster of this magnitude. When the volcano erupts, doomsday begins--and no one gets out alive . . . "Apocalypse has come...unsettling...Washburn shows formidable storytelling skills....You find youself wishing it were longer."-- Mystery Scene on Powerless "Leaves you breathless."--Marc Cameron, bestselling author of National Security and Day Zero "Like a nuclear reactor, this story heats up fast!"--Anderson Harp, author of Retribution and Born of War (on Powerless)

Release date: November 1, 2016

Publisher: Pinnacle Books

Print pages: 432

Sample

Jessica Mayfield takes a moment to survey the crowd, smiling at how odd it is to see people sitting ass to elbow in a 180-degree arc with nothing but a barren mound of chalky dirt in front of them. She marvels at the diversity of the people as some chat animatedly with those next to them while others sit, their gaze riveted. But the reason for the gathering becomes apparent when Old Faithful geysers up from mother earth. Oohs and aahs accompany the whir and click of too many cameras to count, many Christmas gifts that had escaped their boxes only for a trip to the nation’s oldest national park. Jess watches the amazement on her children’s faces as the geyser shoots the steamy water nearly 150 feet into the sky.

After several moments the water retreats back underground, and Jess turns her gaze to the distance. The sage-covered hills and pristine forests of lodgepole pine provide a backdrop for the transparent pools of water whose steamy tendrils drift toward the azure sky. But, as a geologist, Jess knows Yellowstone’s lush vegetation and the clear mountain streams are obscuring a scarred landscape. Scarred not only from glacial movement over centuries, but scarred more deeply by three earth-altering eruptions from one of the largest supervolcanoes on the planet.

As Jess scans the crowd again, she wonders how many of the tourists know about the seething, simmering cauldron of fire lurking beneath their feet. Responsible for the park’s most unusual features—the geysers, fumaroles, mud pots, and hot springs—the caldera volcano is three times the size of Manhattan Island and stretches for miles in every direction.

Jess is startled back into the present when a deep rumble cracks across the landscape and the earth underfoot gyrates like a wobbly plate balanced on a stick.

“What was that, Mommy?” nine-year-old Madison asks, craning her neck to look up at her mother.

“I think that was an earthquake, honey,” Jess replies. She turns to her husband, who is seated on the other side of their two children. “Matt, maybe we should head for another section of the park for today.”

“Why? Yellowstone has small earthquakes all the time.”

“That didn’t feel small to me.” Jess says.

“C’mon, Jess, it’s one small earthquake. Besides, Tucker’s meeting us for lunch at the inn.”

“Has he texted back?” Jess asks. Half Cherokee, with deep bronze–colored skin and dark, cascading hair that brushes across her shoulders with each turn of her head, Jess is tall and willowy. With dark, deep-set eyes, she has the high forehead and broad nose of her ancestors.

“Not yet, but cell service here sucks.” Matt, a banker by trade, likes to think of himself as an amateur scientist. A big-boned, broad-shouldered man, Matt has red hair and sapphire-colored eyes. He and Jess are as different, complexionwise, as any two people can be. Matt leans in to speak to Maddie. “Hey, I know something you don’t know.” He glances at his wife and receives an eye-roll for his efforts.

Maddie overexaggerates a sigh. “What, Dad?” Maddie received a larger portion of‘ her father’s genes. She has curly, strawberry red hair, and across her face and shoulders there’s a splash of freckles that darken during the summer months.

“Did you know that we’re sitting on top of a volcano right this minute?”

Madison’s gaze sweeps across the landscape. “I don’t see a volcano. I think you’re just—”

A louder rumble sounds, followed by a more violent tremor. This one elicits a few shouts of nervous surprise.

“Probably just an aftershock,” Matt mumbles. “Anyway, there is a volcano here but it’s not like normal volcanoes that look like mountains.”

“How could it be a volcano then?”

“It’s called a caldera. The last time the volcano erupted most of the land collapsed back into the magma chamber.”

Maddie arches her barely visible eyebrows. “Is it going to erupt again?”

“Oh sure, someday.” Matt chuckles. “But the volcano hasn’t erupted in . . . oh . . . about 640,000 years. I think we’ll be safe awhile longer.”

Jess leans over to whisper in her husband’s ear. “I really think we should return to the lodge.”

“Why?” He waves his arm in a wide arc. “Look, no one else seems to be alarmed.”

Jessica looks around. A group of Japanese students is huddled in a clump while a park ranger snaps a picture. On the left, two small children, both red-faced from too much sun, wrap their arms around each other while Mom clicks away. No one seems to be panicking. But something is gnawing at Jess’s gut. She turns and begins whispering again. “Well, I’m concerned. The last tremor was significantly stronger. And it wasn’t an aftershock.”

Matt leans away, rubbing his ear to dry the moisture from his wife’s breath. “C’mon, Jess, this place is lousy with earthquakes.”

Jessica grabs his shirt and pulls him closer. “Maybe so, but do you want to be sitting next to a lake of boiling water if there’s a larger quake?”

“Dad, can we go now?” Maddie asks.

Jessica stands and grabs for her daughter’s hand. “That’s a good idea, Maddie girl.”

“Mom, I’m still taking pictures,” Mason says, never taking his eye away from the viewfinder of his camera, a recent birthday present. Mason, twelve, is the polar opposite of his sister. He has his mother’s bronze coloring and dark hair, which he prefers to wear longer than his father would like.

“We’ll go as soon as Mason is through,” Matt says.

Maddie crosses her arms and sighs. “How many pictures of this stupid thing does he need? Besides, it’s not even doing anything. And I thought we were meeting up with Uncle Tucker.”

Matt rests a hand on his daughter’s shoulder only to have her shrug it off. “Honey, this is a family trip. Besides, Uncle Tucker won’t be here until lunch.”

Maddie’s would-be tantrum is short-lived when another ground tremor forces her to uncross her arms to reach for her mother’s hand.

“Matt, that was no small earthquake.” Jessica snags Mason’s arm. “C’mon, we’re going back to the inn right now.”

Mason groans, but relents, letting the camera dangle from the strap around his neck. Matt drapes an arm across Jess’s shoulders as they walk toward the Old Faithful Inn. He leans in to whisper in her ear. “I guess the only tremors we’re used to are when the bed’s rocking.”

Jess shrugs from under his arm, pointing toward the visitor center. “If there’s nothing to worry about, why are there a dozen park rangers headed this way?” Jess stops, plants her feet, and turns to her husband. “I really think we should leave the park altogether.”

“C’mon, honey, we’ve only been here a couple of days. I’m telling you, there’s nothing to worry about.”

Maddie latches on to her father’s hand. “Daddy, I’m scared.”

Dr. Tucker Mayfield, the chief scientist at Yellowstone, glances at the clock and cringes. He had promised lunch with his brother’s family, but that was before the current earthquake swarm threw a wrench into his plans. Tucker is tall and husky like his brother, and they share the same eye color, blue, but that’s where the similarity ends. Tucker’s hair is dark and, while Matt’s skin often burns with sun exposure, Tucker’s darkens to a deep tan during the summer months. With a Ph.D. in geology, he’s one of the youngest people ever to hold the position of scientist-in-charge.

Tucker clicks on his computer mouse to refresh the webicorder display for the seismometer located at Old Faithful. Although earthquake swarms are a fairly common occurrence at the park, what he sees on the monitor ratchets up his concern. The earthquakes are increasing in intensity, pegging the high threes on the magnitude scale. And when you’re sitting on one of the largest volcanoes on earth, any seismic activity is a concern.

Tucker pushes out of his chair and heads down the hall to the Spatial Analysis Center. It’s not as grand as it sounds, simply a room with a half a dozen computers and the same number of people working on them. He rolls a vacant chair over to Rachael Rollins’s workspace and takes a seat. After completing her doctoral dissertation on the park’s unique water systems, Rachael is Yellowstone’s hydrology expert. “Any changes in the hydrothermal systems?” Tucker asks.

“I’ve been checking. Temps are all within norms, and I haven’t had any reports of unusual activity. But if the seismic activity continues to ramp up, I wouldn’t be surprised to see some anomalies. Are you worried about the caldera?”

“Worried? No. Let’s just say I’m a little concerned. The GPS units at Old Faithful and Yellowstone Lake are indicating some pretty rapid ground deformation.”

Rachael scrolls to the Global Positioning System’s website and logs in. “Two inches of upward deformation around the east side of the lake.” She glances at the timestamps on the data. “Over a three-hour period?”

“Yes. Now check the data for Old Faithful.”

Scooting her computer mouse around the pad, Rachael clicks on the geyser’s GPS data feed. “Almost three inches. And during the same three-hour period.” She turns to face Tucker. “That much uplift is significant.”

“I know, and that data is nearly two hours old. I’ve requested more frequent data dumps from the GPS units. Might take them a half a day to reconfigure the system.”

Rachael crosses her arms and leans back in her chair, staring at the deformation numbers. A product of a biracial marriage, she has latte-colored skin and sports a head of tightly curled black hair that bounces with each movement. There’s a splash of darker freckles across her nose and cheeks, but it’s her eyes, colored a Caribbean Sea green, that grab your immediate attention. At five-eight, she’s long and lean. “What do you think is causing the deformation?”

“I don’t think there’s any doubt the magma chamber is responsible. But it could simply be gas expansion.”

“Maybe . . . but could magma be moving toward the surface?” Rachael asks as she leans forward and clicks back to the seismic feeds on her computer.

“For our sake—”

“Tucker, a larger quake just rocked the Old Faithful area.”

Tucker leans forward for a closer look. “Jesus, that’s substantially larger than any of the others. What do you think for magnitude?”

“Upper fours. The strongest we’ve seen in months.” She turns to face Tucker. “Okay, mark me down as officially concerned. If these earthquakes continue to increase in scale, we’re in for a very long day.”

University Seismic Observation Lab, Salt Lake City, Utah

On the first floor of the university’s geology building, undergrad student Josh Tolbert, running on coffee and Red Bull, is cramming for today’s exam in structural geology and tectonics. His right leg jackhammers up and down as he reads through his notes again while occasionally glancing up at the eight large video screens displaying real-time seismic data for Yellowstone.

As Josh struggles to remember which of the continental plates are convergent and which are divergent, the computer monitors in the lab chirp in unison. “What in the hell is that?” he mutters. His gaze sweeps the empty room in search of a professor before he remembers that today is Tuesday, staff meeting day. He clicks through the seismometers, and the large, squiggly lines grow larger near the center of the park. When the seismometer located at Old Faithful pops onto the screen he shouts, “Oh shit,” and jumps up from his chair, hurrying out of the lab. Like Wile E. Coyote, his feet scramble for traction on the polished linoleum flooring as he rushes toward the conference room down the hall. His right hand skims the concrete wall for balance, sending announcements and lecture programs raining onto the floor. He pounds down the door lever and barges into the conference room, wheezing. “Dr. Snider, I . . . need you . . . in the observation room.”

“What is it, Josh?” Dr. Snider asks in his patented patient-professor’s voice.

“Sir”—he pauses to take a breath—“there are earthquakes occurring at Yellowstone.”

“That’s not terribly unusual, Josh, but thanks for notifying us.” Dr. Snider turns back to the group. “As I was saying—”

“Professor, I really think you should take a look.”

As if acceding to the wishes of a petulant child, Dr. Snider says, “Okay, Josh, I’ll have a look.” He turns back to those parked around the wooden table. “Let’s adjourn, folks. I think we’ve accomplished what we needed to accomplish for the week.” He turns and clamps a hand on Josh’s shoulder. “Let’s go see what’s got you all riled up, young man.” With a Ph.D. in geophysics, Dr. Eric Snider is head of the university’s seismology program, which includes oversight of the seismometers at Yellowstone.

There is a total lack of urgency as Dr. Snider ambles along the hallway. “You staying here for grad school, Josh?”

Josh, working hard to slow his pace while his brain screams Run, doesn’t respond. Instead, he glances at his mentor, saying, “Professor, I think we should hurry.”

“You young people are always in a hurry. What has you so worried, Josh?”

“Lots of things. Yellowstone is a very unstable area. What happens if these earthquakes trigger a volcanic eruption?”

“You need to worry about finding yourself a nice young girl,” Snider says, chuckling. But the chuckles die in his throat when he and Josh turn into the lab and Snider sees the data on the screens. His treasured Montblanc pen slips from his grasp, clinking to the linoleum floor. “Josh, run back down the hall and tell everyone to hustle in here.”

Josh’s gaze sweeps across the video displays. “The earthquakes are swarming and getting stronger, aren’t they?”

“Josh, hustle up now. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Josh stifles the I told you so that lingers on the tip of his tongue and rushes through the door for another race down the hall, his heart hammering faster than hummingbird wings, and not just from the physical exertion.

(Editor’s Note: All interviews were conducted by Casey Cartwright as she traveled between survivor camps located throughout the southeastern United States while working on her master’s thesis.)

Camp 2–Clearwater, Florida

Interview: Paul from Provo, UT—geology grad student

“The tension and excitement in the seismology lab were palpable. And the tension really ratcheted up when the seismograms indicated the earthquakes were intensifying. Dr. Snider was running around like a wild man. Then we started getting information from the GPS units located at the park. I think everyone knew then that something big was going to happen. It’s one of those moments that occur once in a lifetime, like where you were on 9/11 or when JFK was shot. I’ll remember being in that room for the rest of my life.”

Dr. Jeremy Lyndsey, chief scientist for the Yellowstone Volcano Observatory, curses under his breath as he wipes at the residue that his breakfast burrito burped onto his freshly laundered shirt. In the middle of his efforts, his office phone buzzes. Frustrated, he tosses the remainder of the burrito into the garbage and grabs the phone.

Before he can even say hello, Dr. Eric Snider says, “Yellowstone is experiencing an intense earthquake swarm.”

“Good morning to you, too, Eric. What magnitudes are you seeing?”

“The last one was a little over 4.2. And that follows several quakes in the high threes.”

Lyndsey wiggles the mouse to wake his computer, then logs into the seismic feeds. “They’re nearly unrelenting, aren’t they?”

“Yes, but that’s not what concerns me. Look at the rapid increase in magnitude.”

“Earthquakes in the low fours are fairly uncommon, but not unheard of for the park,” he mumbles into the phone while scrolling through the webicorder displays. “It doesn’t appear any of the tremors have exceeded previous levels.”

“Yet,” Snider says. “Pull up the GPS data. We have increasing uplift out by the lake over the past couple of hours. Some as much as two inches. When’s the last time you’ve seen ground deformation numbers like that?”

“Been a while. But again, not unheard of. Is there any unusual hydrothermal activity?” Lyndsey asks.

“Don’t know. Tucker is next on my list of calls.”

“Can you have some of your grad students plot the seismic waves to see if there have been any obvious changes in the magma chamber?”

“They’re already feeding the data into the mainframe, but it’s going to be a slow process. I’m not sure what that’s going to tell us, anyway. We know the levels fluctuate somewhat because of the gaseous nature of the magma.”

“It might tell us whether the amount of magma is on the increase,” Lyndsey says. “Any uplift on the other GPS sensors?”

“Some, but not as significant as the area around Yellowstone Lake. But two inches uplift . . . damn.”

“What?”

“Another quake. The needles are bouncing like a rubber ball. This one’s the largest of the morning.”

“Where and how large?” Lyndsey asks as he clicks between seismometers.

“Old Faithful. Won’t know until we run the data, but my guess is in the high fours or low fives.”

“Damn,” Lyndsey whispers. “Okay, Eric, I need an update every few minutes, either by text or e-mail. I need to makes some phone calls.”

“Do you think this activity warrants a discussion about a possible evacuation of the park?” Snider asks.

“We’re a long way from even contemplating a park evacuation. The damn thing hasn’t erupted in 640,000 years. I think we have a few days to further study the situation.”

Cundiff Trust Well No. 3, south of Cody, Wyoming

Forty miles east of Yellowstone’s eastern boundary, Kenny Huff focuses all of his attention on an array of computer screens inside the control room of his wireline truck. A large, burly man with thick arms and broad shoulders, Kenny is a thirty-year veteran of the oil patch, who went from tool pusher to owner of his own business. Huff Wireline Services rig number one, out of one, is parked in a mud puddle near the Christmas tree atop a recently drilled oil well. A large spool of wire mounted at the back of the truck feeds line into the valve stack—an amalgam of wheels, valves, and pressure gauges that stands over ten feet tall with horizontal branches jutting out in every direction. The stack looks like a scarecrow assembled by a mad plumber. But its purpose is critical to control the enormous pressures inside the drill hole that extends ten thousand feet into the earth. Of all the valves and gauges, the production wing valve is the one that controls the flow of oil and natural gas to the production facilities.

But only if they can get the well to flow.

And that’s Kenny’s job. His eyes dart from one computer monitor to another as the perforation gun sinks closer to the target area.

“Almost there?” Hank Caldwell, the oil company’s geologist, asks after an impatient sigh. A short, thin man with rectangular glasses perched atop his aquiline nose, Hank is more at home in his office back at headquarters than out in the oil fields. But as a field geologist, he is required to sit on a well during any scheduled activity.

“Another four feet,” Kenny says as his pudgy fingers nudge the joystick controller forward before bringing the joystick to a dead stop. “On target.”

Hank compares the depth on the screen to the well log folded out across the desk. “Perf the damn thing. We should have been frackin’ last week.”

“Fire in the hole,” Kenny says as he toggles a red switch.

There is no discernable difference on the surface, but deep in the drill hole a series of shaped charges explodes through the well casing and into the surrounding rock. The perforations will allow the hydraulic fracturing fluids, injected under extreme pressure, a path into the rock formations. If all goes according to plan, the fractured rock will release its hold on the oil and gas that has been in the ground for millions of years.

Kenny swivels his chair around. “Any other zones you want to hit?”

“That’s about the only pay zone we’ve got. But I have another well for you to shoot this afternoon.”

“Roger that. Where?”

Hank gives him the location of the next well and folds up the well log. He pushes out of the chair and eases his cell phone from his pocket. “Now, will you kindly get your wire out of my drill hole so I can get back to work?”

“Hell, Hank, you don’t know what work is.” Kenny nods toward the cell phone in Hank’s hand. “The only thing you work is that phone, and maybe your wife once a month.”

“Hell, I wish it was once a month.”

Both men laugh as Kenny pulls on the joystick to reel in the line. “Hey, Hank, you ever work offshore?”

“No, I like my feet planted on the terra firma. Why?”

Kenny swivels around, a broad grin wrinkling his weathered face. “You know what the offshore guys call the night before they go off shift?”

“No idea.”

“Pussmas Eve.”

Hank laughs and reaches for the door handle. “Yeah, Pussmas Eve is closer to Christmas Eve around my house. It only happens once a year. You be out of here before lunch?”

“Should be. When’s the fracking crew coming in?”

“They’re going to start setting up around one.”

“We’ll be gone before then. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Hank waves a hand in the air as he exits the control room. As his feet touch down, the ground wobbles underfoot, and Hank grabs the door handle to keep from falling. The big truck sways from side to side and after ten to fifteen seconds the motion stops. But Hank’s brain continues to spin with fiery images of death and destruction caused by a well blowout. He yanks open the door to see an ashen-faced Kenny still at the controls.

“What the hell was that?” Hank shouts.

Kenny scans the gauges and monitors. “Well pressure’s fine. Must have been an earthquake.”

Camp 48–Marietta, Georgia

Interview: Eric from Early, TX—oil field tool pusher

“Yeah, we was working up that way. Trying to complete a well just outside Cody. I’ve tromped through a bunch of oil patches in my time and I can guar-an-tee you, drilling work ain’t got nothing to do with earthquakes. All these gotdamn tree huggers yelling about frackin’ and drillin’ drive me batshit crazy. How the hell they think their heaters work when they get home and click ’em on? Or when they want to take a hot damn shower? Natural gas, that’s how. And it don’t just pour out of the gotdamn ground. Anyway . . . that’s kinda off subject. Yeah, we was already in the truck headed home when it all started.”

Lower Geyser Basin

There is no sense of panic among the park guests as the rangers herd them away from Old Faithful. Matt slows his progress as one of the rangers nears. “Sir, are you evacuating the entire park?”

Jess reaches her hand out to slow the children so she can listen in.

“No, just this area around the geysers. They might get a little cranky and erratic during these earthquake swarms.”

Jess steps away from the children and lowers her voice when she confronts the ranger. “The earthquakes are increasing in intensity.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that, ma’am. What I can tell you is, the park is frequently rattled by small quakes. I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. You guys staying here in the park?”

“We’re staying at the inn,” Jess says, “but I don’t share your lack of concern. “You do know we’re standing on top of one of the largest volcanoes on earth.”

“Yes, ma’am, but I also know there wasn’t a human alive to see it the last time she popped off.”

“All the more reason to be worried,” Jess says before turning and stalking away.

The Old Faithful Inn is the largest log structure in the world, and by the time the Mayfields navigate through the narrow corridors toward their room, everyone is tired and hungry, after having skipped breakfast.

“Let’s rest in the room for a while before we head back out,” Jess says. “Dad’s trying to get in touch with Uncle Tucker to see about lunch. That sound okay?”

Neither child replies, and the door to their room swings open. Both Maddie and Mason immediately grab their iPads and collapse on the sofa. Jess waits for Matt to glance in her direction, then nods toward the balcony beyond the sliding glass door. They step outside and she slides the door closed.

“Are we having balcony sex?” Matt whispers.

“Sure. Where the kids can watch, along with all those people milling around below us. I’m worried, Matt.”

“Honey, you heard the ranger. They experience quakes all the time.”

“Have you ever done any reading about this volcano?”

“Not really, no. I read something about it while planning our trip, but nothing in depth.”

Jess snuggles up next to Matt and lowers her voice. “The Yellowstone Caldera is a supervolcano. The volcanoes in the Hawaiian Islands are called mountain builders because their lava drifts down the mountainside, building ever higher over time. A supervolcano is a mountain eraser. They erupt with such force that the surrounding land collapses into the magma chamber. Yellowstone’s magma chamber is almost eighteen miles wide and nearly fifty-five miles long and extends underground for miles. There will be no bubbling of lava where spectators can snap pictures as the molten rock meanders across the landscape.”

Jess pauses to glance in on the children before continuing. “A Yellowstone eruption will be devastating for the entire planet.”

“I remember hearing about the Mount St. Helens eruption when I was a kid, but I didn’t think there was much to it, other than a fairly large ash cloud.”

Jess pinches her thumb and forefinger together to form a tiny circle. “This is the Mount St. Helens eruption.” She releases her fingers and spreads her arms out wide. “This would be the size of a Yellowstone eruption. It would be a thousand times larger than the eruption of St. Helens. Some scientists have speculated that an eruption here would be like a thousand Hiroshima-sized bombs detonating every second.”

“Okay, I’m spooked. Are you thinking one of these earthquakes could trigger an eruption?”

“If it’s large enough, sure. But earthquakes aren’t the only thing that could trigger an eruption.”

“What else?” Matt asks.

“That’s just it, Matt: No one knows for sure what triggers an eruption. Could . . .