The Yellowstone Conundrum (48 page)

Wyoming State Route 450

Thunder Basin National Grassland

  “Cameron,“ Betsy started; then stopped in mid-sentence, her drawl sounding more Tennessee than Texas. “We’ve got to go back. We can’t let those people die,” her face was earnest, her eyebrows tightly scrunched, her forehead wrinkled in concern. “They don’t know. We know.”

 
“But, Bitsy if the wind,” he started to complain.

  “Cameron! Fuck the wind. OK?
Those people are going to die tonight unless they get off their collective butts and move. And we have the wheels to help them. I—we—can’t let them die in their beds tonight.” 

 
Cameron felt like his mother was twisting his left ear getting him back to the dinner table to eat his peas.  Yeah, yes, OK; just don’t hurt me.

 
They were half-way to Newcastle, which was only a hop, skip and jump from Custer, South Dakota.
Yup, gotta turn around. Yup, let’s find a place to turn around. New momma told me to turn around
.

  It was dusk.
Cam and Betsy were now driving westbound on state 450, about 30 miles outside of Wright, Wyoming. It was cold and clear outside but the horizon was a black hole without any stars. Cameron switched to his VHF (very high frequency) receiver and began to twiddle. At 162.475 he hit WXL67, Scottsboro, Nebraska. The sound was clear, and just plain fucking spooky.

 
Good evening my fellow Americans

 
Cameron exchanged big eyes with Betsy. The President of the United States was speaking from the darkened spaces of Cameron’s cab behind him because that’s the way he had his speakers positioned. It was so fucking cool. Betsy’s ears froze like dog’s ears in the upward position. Tiger sat curled up on the bed, not asleep like most old cats, but wary of exactly what the hell was going on.

  “Sweet Mother
,” Cameron exclaimed under his breath.

 
I speak to you tonight from the White House. Ninety-five percent of you can’t see me because your power is out and there is no TV. But, I’m here in the White House along with your leaders of both parties. In fact, I’ve just met with the Joint Chiefs of Staff and your National Security Council along with our military representatives at the Pentagon, the ranking members of the House and the Senate.

 
I have news of the disasters in Wyoming and Washington State; I’m afraid I have very little good news, but I will share with you what I have.

 
The massive eruption in Yellowstone National Park is now into its eighth hour with no indication if or when it will stop. Upper air currents have taken the ash through Wyoming and Colorado east of Denver, now down as far as Amarillo, Texas. The current path of the jet stream will move the ash cloud across the South—Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia—then up the East Coast, crossing Richmond, Washington DC, Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York City and Boston before exiting the United States and heading across the Atlantic Ocean. By tomorrow morning there will be a steady deposit of ash along that route.

 
It is impossible at this time to assess the level of damage that will occur. The current path of the jet stream is approximately one hundred fifty miles wide. It is fair to say that the areas directly under the center of the jet stream’s path will receive the most ash.

 
I have instructed the Department of Homeland Security’s Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) to declare that as of 4:00 pm Eastern Standard Time all 50 states are in a Federal Disaster Area; which means the government will immediately help states with resources at hand.

 
I’ve also asked the Defense Department to immediately make the Army and Air Force National Guard units available for states to use as needed. The Emergency Preparedness offices of the various states should contact their state National Guard office and begin to assess potential damage and initiate an action plan, which includes possible evacuation of affected areas.

 
States not immediately affected by the current path of the jet stream need to use their National Guard units to prepare what-if scenarios when the wind patterns shift, which they will; also coordinating the potential movement of millions of Americans from one state to another.

 
I have asked the Defense Department to recall National Guard units currently serving abroad to assist local governments. The logistics of moving large numbers of troops from Army bases abroad is complicated.

 
Telephone service in the Eastern US has returned while service in the western states is spotty or non-existent.

 
In addition to the Yellowstone caldera explosion, the failures of the Jackson Lake and Fort Peck dams mean that the Snake and Missouri Rivers are in the process of being flooded. The Army Corps of Engineers is attempting to design a diversion of these rivers, but massive flooding can be expected.

  W
ith the dams gone and the ongoing earthquakes in Wyoming, electrical power in the western states from North Dakota south to Oklahoma is out. Texas has electricity as does San Francisco and parts of Central California. The Western Area Power Administration in Phoenix is attempting to re-establish power in Arizona. If it can, some service in Southern California can be resumed, but there is no current projected up time.

 
Electricity suppliers in the South and East, no longer able to draw on the hydroelectric supply from the western states, will experience brownouts and rolling blackouts.

 
Last, and certainly not least, the Columbia Generating Station on the Hanford Reservation in Washington State has experienced significant structural damage; nuclear waste tanks which have been in operation for seventy years, since the start of the Cold War and the development of America’s first nuclear weapons, have exploded sending massive clouds of radioactive material into the atmosphere. While the core of the plant went off line within seconds of the earthquakes, the water supply from the Columbia River to the generating plant has been cut off; meaning a meltdown of the core is probable. Unlike Chernobyl and Fukushima, workers are unable to get near the facility.  At approximately 1:00 Pacific Time a massive explosion rocked the area as additional storage tanks detonated. The cities of Richland, Pasco and Kennewick in central Washington have been devastated.

 
I have been in direct contact with many of the leaders of the world; England, France, India, Israel, Russia, Japan and China; all of whom will begin to experience the fallout from the Yellowstone and Hanford explosions.

 
My fellow Americans, as a result of this national disaster, I have taken several actions this afternoon; powers granted to me by the National Emergencies Act of 1976. I have closed the stock and commodities trading markets in New York and Chicago indefinitely. Effective tomorrow morning, February 21
st
I am declaring a Bank Holiday of one week until Congress can be notified and have asked the Secretary of the Treasury to present to me a plan that will ensure the safety of existing deposits and prevention of bank closures.

 
In closing, I pray for your safety and well-being and my hope is God will take my prayer to each and every one of you.

  Both Cam and Betsy had tears welling as the radio went silent. They had reached the intersection of state route 450 and state 59; quickly turned right, and a mile later left onto state 387. Wright was dead ahead.

 
“Cam! It’s starting. It’s here!”

 
The headlights from the big rig splayed onto the Exxon station, bringing a vile memory taste back to Cam’s lips.  Syphoning gas from an underground tank hardly ever went smoothly. Sure enough, little white snowflakes had started to fall, not the heavy
chinka chinka chinka
stuff—but white ash from burning timber.

 
Cam laid into his horn as he moved quickly through town, past the Town Hall and Rec Center, then followed Wright Blvd as it made a circuitous, serpentine route from highway 387 on the north side to highway 59 on the east side, all-in-all about two miles. People started to come out of their homes; and like the first snowfall of the season, began wandering around, holding their hands out to catch the magical snowflakes.

 
Turning around, Betsy and Cam started shouting out their respective windows.

  “Get out! Get out of town! It’s here!
You’re all going to die!”

 
They took a pass through the mobile home park, then back to the Civic Center where many of the same townspeople remained inside. 

 
“Do you have a civil defense siren?” Cam asked.

 
“Yeah, but it’s going to require electricity,” the blue-shirted mayor replied. “When did this start?” now very concerned. “I was outside not fifteen minutes ago and you could see stars.

 
“There’s a battery back-up,” added Gladys Holt, Wade’s administrative assistant, now smiling.

  “Yes!
Go set that thing off!” ordered the cowboy mayor.

  “OK, here’s the deal.
You’re going to be up to your ass in volcanic ash by daybreak. Everybody who has a car needs to get the fuck out of Dodge. Now! You need to be sending people around town, wake people up, and do what you need to do. If you know of someone who has a fifth wheel on the ground, let’s hook it up to my rig. Go to the supermarket, take whatever food is on the shelf and pack it into the RV,” Cam’s voice was urgent.

 
“Is there a pharmacy here?” Betsy asked.

 
“No, we have to go to Newcastle or Gillette; Walgreens.  “Don’s has over-the-counter drugs,” referring to the town’s only supermarket.

 
“I met him before,”

  “Jared Hastings.
No, I wouldn’t call Jared a ‘sociable’ man.” McGriff broke a smile, interrupting what surely would be a description of the dour owner.

 
All of a sudden the emergency siren started hooting; loud enough to get your bowels working.

  “I’ll take you.
It’s only two blocks, down and over.  Owner is probably at the Rusty Nail getting a nightly snooter, along with a good portion of the town. The siren’ll get them here.”

  Off they went.
Betsy came along, curious to see how Cam’s rig would work with a fifth wheel. It all of a sudden became very dark; darker than a witch’s tit, darker than; well, darker than dark.

 
“We don’t have long, Cameron,” she warned. “We aren’t going to be able to see our hand in front of our face.”

  Cam knew what to do.
He jumped out of the cab and onto his “trailer”, released the lock so that it would receive the ball joint of the RV. Unlike having to install a hitch, the PeterBilt was always ready. Cam backed into position then activated the raisers on the RV so that the ball joint would easily slide into position and be locked. There was no time for chock measurement. The trailer had to be raised 5 inches, which he did manually. The whole process took less than five minutes. Theft of 5
th
-wheel trailer must not be a crime in Wyoming.

 
Ten minutes later Cam and the 5
th
wheel were back at the Civic Center. The emergency siren was on, the neighborhood crowded with cars and people. White ash continued to fall.  There were no stars.

 
“Food,” Cam said plainly to Wade, who pointed to his left.

 
“Two blocks; right across from the Rusty Nail.” 

 
“Is he going to be there?”

 
“Jared?”

 
“Yeah.”

 
“Wade, we have about fifteen minutes before the black stuff is going to fall and when it does you’re not going to know which way to shit. Everybody who is coming with us needs to be with us, because we have to leave town right now!”

 
Cam turned and slowly edged his way from the Civic Center and headed toward the supermarket. Thirty seconds later he was there. The supermarket had super service, wonderful employees, and was well respected in the town. Cameron was about to rob it.

 
Jared Hastings stood in front of his store; inside, two rows of light dimly lit most of the market; obviously now on generator. A handful of townspeople were inside. It was nearly pitch dark in the parking lot. The only lights came from Cameron’s Peterbilt and the lights from other cars who had decided to cast lots with the caravan.

 
Betsy got out ahead of Cameron and approached the 45-year old owner of the supermarket; Cam was behind her but back ten paces.

   “Mr. Hastings.
I almost died this morning over on I-25 because the earthquake knocked out all of overpasses. If it hadn’t have been for Cameron, I’d be dead now. The black stuff, when it comes; well, it covers up everything. There’s no white, just black. You can’t breathe,” her Tennessee twang now prevalent. “It’s starting to sprinkle dark. We got no time. We’re going to drive east as far as we can go and set up camp somewhere. These are your people, Mr. Hastings. We’re either going to go with food from your store or we aren’t; and I can’t believe you’d let your friends go without food,” Betsy started toward Jared. “We need your help, Jared.”