Apocalypse Trails: Episode 3, page 1
Apocalypse Trails
Episode 3
By
Joe Nobody
Copyright © 2016
Kemah Bay Marketing, LLC
All rights reserved.
Edited by:
E. T. Ivester
www.joenobodybooks.com
This is a work of fiction. Characters and events are products of the author’s imagination, and no relationship to any living person is implied. The locations, facilities, and geographical references are set in a fictional environment.
Other Books by Joe Nobody:
Apocalypse Trails: Episode 1
Apocalypse Trails: Episode 2
Secession: The Storm
Secession II: The Flood
Secession III: The Surge
The Archangel Drones
Holding Your Ground: Preparing for Defense if it All Falls Apart
The TEOTWAWKI Tuxedo: Formal Survival Attire
Without Rule of Law: Advanced Skills to Help You Survive
Holding Their Own: A Story of Survival
Holding Their Own II: The Independents
Holding Their Own III: Pedestals of Ash
Holding Their Own IV: The Ascent
Holding Their Own V: The Alpha Chronicles
Holding Their Own VI: Bishop’s Song
Holding Their Own VII: Phoenix Star
Holding Their Own VII: The Directives
Holding Their Own IX: The Salt War
Holding Their Own X: The Toymaker
Holding Their Own XI: Hearts and Minds
Holding Their Own XII: Copperheads
The Home Schooled Shootist: Training to Fight with a Carbine
Apocalypse Drift
The Little River Otter
The Olympus Device: Book One
The Olympus Device: Book Two
The Olympus Device: Book Three
The Ebola Wall
Prologue
The day of the eruption …
Sporting an obvious scowl, Cole rounded the bumper and examined the hitch. The damn thing made him nervous, despite having successfully towed the camper over half of the western United States – from the Grand Canyon to Mount Rushmore and all points in between.
He wiggled the chains, tugged on the pins, and finally gave the ball joint a good push with his foot – just to be sure.
“You need to trade in that old horse trailer and get yourself a proper RV, partner,” sounded a friendly voice from the other side of the gas pumps.
Glancing up to admire the spit-shined-new, mega-deluxe, Class-A motorhome in the next lane, Cole replied, “Morning, Philip. Sleep well?”
“Like a rock. How far do you think we’ll make it today?”
Before Cole could answer, the pump filling his pickup announced that the tank was full with a resounding “thunk.” As he reached to remove the thick, black hose, he read the digital display. “Twenty-one gallons to top her off. Less than fifty bucks. What’s your damage this morning?” he teased.
On the other side of the pump island, Philip glanced at the ascending blue numbers. “Okay, I deserved that. This beast does suck down the diesel fuel. That’s for sure.”
Cole shrugged, “Everything in life has its tradeoffs. Besides, Shelly worked hard all those years – building her practice. The doc deserves to tour the country in a fine RV such as that.”
Philip ignored the jab, having long ago developed an immunity to being tormented about his wife’s success. “What can I say?” he grinned, spreading his hands in an innocent gesture. “I was the only candidate that met the job requirements for being both a cabana boy and a chauffeur. Don’t hate me just because I’m sexy and can drive.”
Cole chuckled, replacing the nozzle back into its cradle. In reality, his friend’s lengthy career as an engineer hardly placed the man in the category of “underachiever.” The mere thought of the nerdy workaholic being labeled a gold-digger prompted a second bout of laughter to form in his throat. Wise sayings advised that it took money to make money, and that success bred success. Philip and Shelly Regan were poster children for both adages.
Yet, in the 23 years he and his wife had known with the Reagans, Cole couldn’t recall a single case of the couple flaunting their wealth or affluence. They were common folk, living well-grounded lives and raising their children to the best of their abilities.
Cole’s retrospective was interrupted by a commotion at the truck stop’s retail entrance. Philip noticed it, too. “I wonder what’s going on over there? Excessively long wait for the bathroom?” he teased.
The two vacationers stood silent for a moment, observing the continued confusion. Three men scurried toward the door, urgently waved in by a fourth comrade. A middle-aged mother with her teenage daughter in tow babbled into a cell phone, weeping inconsolably and hugging her child all at the same time. A truck driver rushed inside the convenience store, nearly mowing down an elderly motorist in the parking area.
After exchanging questioning expressions, Cole mumbled, “Buy one, get one free cigarettes?”
Before his buddy could answer, a man filling his SUV in the next aisle shouted, “They said what?”
The woman inside the Chevy Suburban rolled down the window and leaned across the seat, “They said on the radio that Yellowstone is erupting. The report of the devastation is alarming.”
Cole and Philip instantly exchanged grave looks. “I’ll get Shelly,” the engineer stated, stopping his pump and capping his tank.
Nodding, Cole turned toward his pickup’s passenger side and tapped on the window.
Daisy glanced up from the clutter of maps and travel guides spread across her lap, flashing an annoyed expression at the interruption. Her husband didn’t wait for her to roll down the window, pulling quickly on the door latch.
“Something is going on with Yellowstone. The lady in the car next to us just said it is erupting. Philip and I are going inside to see what is on the TV.”
Daisy’s eyes grew large, “I’ll join you.”
A moment later, the four tourists hurried inside the truck stop, joining an already thick band of travelers, truckers, and commuters gathered around the television in the lobby. The throng was absolutely silent, clearly enthralled by the images broadcast on cable news.
“Again, to recap what we know so far, the United States Geological Survey office reports that a massive eruption is occurring at Yellowstone National Park,” the announcer emphasized. “According to the preliminary information we have received, the scale and scope of this event are unprecedented.”
The picture changed to an aerial view from an aircraft obviously intent on keeping its distance. To Cole, the image wasn’t at all what he expected.
Unlike the dozen or so other such reports and videos he’d seen of volcanic eruptions, there was no cone-shaped mountain spewing smoke and ash. The news broadcast didn’t picture any crimson rivers of lava or molten, black rock slowly advancing across the ground.
Instead, the camera was zoomed in on what appeared more like a forest fire than any sort of massive release of pressure from the earth’s mantle. Cole found himself staring at a wall of dark, boiling smoke that seemed to shoot skyward for several miles.
“This could be a cataclysmic disaster,” Shelly whispered just loud enough for her husband to hear. “I’ve read a lot about super volcanos. If this is the big one, we’re in a lot of trouble.”
As if on cue, the announcer introduced an “expert,” a Doctor so-and-so from the USGA. A bearded man appeared on the screen, his face a portrait of scholarly sobriety.
While no one in the gas station crowd could have recalled the professional’s name, he quickly earned their undivided attention. “Volcanic ash is extremely dense,” he began, “up to eight times heavier than snow. People in the areas directly downwind of Yellowstone should immediately seek shelter in structures with steeply pitched roofs. In previous eruptions, there have been hundreds of causalities caused by collapsing buildings. Only a few inches of tephra can cause a roof to fail.”
“So, people shouldn’t stay inside?” the newscaster questioned.
“Absolutely they should!” replied the expert in a rush. “They must not breathe the ash! Some airborne streams will contain microscopic glass, with can severely damage internal tissue with normal inhalation. An even more common threat is drowning. The various components of pumice can form a concrete-like substance when mixed with the moisture inside the lungs. Don’t venture outside without proper breathing apparatus! If you must … if it is an emergency … then wrap your face with a moist, dense fiber cloth.”
“We’re going to need water,” Shelly announced, this time loud enough for those surrounding her to hear.
“In addition,” the expert continued, “many water sources are going to become tainted. In most previous eruptions around the globe, municipal water systems have failed because of high silica content in the spew. People in the ash cloud’s path should draw water and stock up on supplies as soon as possible.”
“We’re going to need as much gasoline as we can carry,” Shelly continued. “The electricity will fail if this goes on for very long.”
Bowed up with stress and anxiety, one of the men next to the Reagans frowned at the doctor’s observation. “How in the hell do you know so much, lady?”
On cue, the television expert echoed Shelly’s prediction. “Also, we can expect widespread failures of the power grid in those areas most affected by the discharge.”
Now the
Shelly shrugged with a hint of embarrassment. “What can I say? I’m a bit of a prepper.”
“How large an area will be impacted by this event?” the anchorman quizzed.
“That depends on how long the eruption continues,” the onscreen geologist answered. “If the blast only lasts a few hours, then the damage to North America and the global environment will be very limited. If it continues for days, or weeks, or even months, then the entire planet will be severely affected.”
The flat screen’s display switched to a map of the North America, a blinking, red dot indicating Yellowstone National Park. Around ground-zero, several elongated circles or zones appeared. All the while, the expert’s voice droned on. “This forecast indicates the hardest hit areas if the volcanic activity continues for three days.”
It was clear to the onlookers at the truck stop that most of America’s breadbasket was in for a rough ride. Again, the broadcasted map changed, the zones becoming larger in all directions. “This version shows the various levels of damage if the eruption continues for one week.”
Now the vacationers were studying lines that extended well east of the Mississippi River and into the Ohio River Valley.
“And if the volcano continues for more than a week?” the announcer asked.
“All bets are off … in that case,” the scientist answered, desperate to control his shaky response. “This is an unprecedented event that is already stretching our mathematical models. Most of our equipment around Yellowstone has been damaged or destroyed, so we can only guess at the magnitude of the eruption at this point. To make long-term estimates is impossible.”
Viewers around the United States spotted the anchorman’s finger firmly press his earpiece, his eyebrows knotting as an unheard voice caused the polished newsman’s expression to grow even more troubled. “We here at World News are now receiving word that a major series of earthquakes is rattling California and the entire West Coast. Our reporter at KBAN in San Francisco was in the middle of filing a report when we lost contact with her. Thank you for your patience while we try to regain contact with our affiliates along the Pacific Coast. In the meantime, Anchorage, Alaska has reported an 8.6 magnitude disturbance. Stay tuned to World News for our round-the-clock coverage of this developing story,” he assured. Then turning back to the geologist sharing the screen, he posed the question on the minds of his every American watching. “Could this seismic activity be related to the disturbance at Yellowstone, Doctor?”
“Of course it is,” Shelly said louder than she intended.
Nodding, the USGS expert replied, “Very likely. While Yellowstone is several hundred miles away from the California fault lines, the explosive activity of the caldera could be sending shock waves through the earth’s crust for thousands of miles.”
Shelly had heard enough. Turning to her husband and friends, she advised in a now hushed tone, “I think we better assume the worst. We’re going to need all of the water, food, fuel, and filters we can manage, and we’d better do it ASAP. I’d say we have two days before the high-altitude winds carry the ash all around the planet.”
“Should we try to make it home?” Cole asked. “If we drive hard, we can make Dallas in two days.”
Shelly shook her head, “No, I don’t think a road trip is a good plan. If folks start to panic, we are going to get stuck in gridlock, and that is the surest way to a quick demise. Right now, this news is just a curiosity, but when that ash starts falling, and if the volcano erupts for a while, people are going to get very desperate, really fast.”
Philip peered at the arid Arizona landscape through the building’s glass windows. “We don’t have to worry much about population here, but water might be an issue.”
“I was just scanning the maps before we came in,” Daisy offered. “There’s a place up the road a bit called Live Oak Springs. When we traveled through a few years back, we stopped there for gas. It’s not much of a town, but it offers a nice campground with a lot of trees due to the natural spring.”
“I remember that spot,” Cole nodded. “It’s like a miniature oasis. Kind of odd to find all that green right in the middle of the desert.”
It then dawned on the foursome that several of the surrounding crowd were eavesdropping. One of the skeptics asked, “Do you really think it’s going to be that bad?”
Before Shelly could answer, someone exclaimed, “Oh, my God!”
All eyes darted back to the television, the image a wobbly, bumping cell phone video. The wingtip of an aircraft could be identified in the corner of the frame. In the distance, a massive cityscape loomed, which the anchorman quickly identified as Los Angeles.
Shelly inhaled sharply as the picture zoomed toward the tall buildings. Waves of bright, blue water, several stories high, crashed through the streets. One major building collapsed, then another. An explosion spawned a red, boiling ball of flame and smoke into the air, its black plume soon joining several others visible on the horizon. Then the video ended.
“Let’s get going,” Shelly mumbled. “I don’t think we’ve got much time to get ready.”
The foursome pivoted, heading toward the exit and their campers. Before they had made it ten steps, the sound of angry voices roared from the truck stop’s general store.
Two men were ‘power-shopping’ in one of the aisles, both playing tug-of-war over a cheap, red, polymer gas can. “I told you I was here first,” the one fellow bellowed.
“You already bought the other four, buddy. Leave some for somebody else!” responded the older man.
Cole and Philip glanced at each other as the pair of customers jerked and yanked on the prized plastic 5-gallon container. “Shelly’s right; this is going to get bad.”
Shoving past the two husbands, Daisy seemed undisturbed by the escalating altercation. “I think we should buy as many canned goods as we can carry, and do it right now.” To emphasize her resolve, she began stuffing as many meats and vegetables in the hand-carried basket as it would hold.
“I agree,” Shelly added, hustling beyond the guys and the limited section of foodstuffs. “Philip, I’m going to go keep an eye on the campers while you guys load up on groceries.”
“Gotcha.”
Ten steps outside of the convenience store, two men vectored toward Shelly, their beeline prompting her to reach for the pistol in her clutch.
Before she could draw the weapon, the older of the two held up his hands in mock surrender. “We don’t want any trouble, ma’am. We heard you inside, and it seemed like you know what’s going on. Is this going to be as big a problem as everyone is making it out to be?”
Not taking her hand off the Smith and Wesson automatic, the doc shrugged, “No way to be sure. I’m probably overreacting, but I tend to do that. Still….”
“We’re both semi drivers,” offered the younger stranger. “Both of us have loads for Los Angeles, but according to what we just saw, LA doesn’t exist anymore. We’re not sure what to do.”
Something about the two truckers seemed to engender trust with Shelly. She was typically skilled at making quick judgements about people, a trait developed by many physicians and caregivers. “Well, if I were you, I would find someplace safe to hole up and wait to see what happens,” she finally offered.
Phillip, Cole, and Daisy arrived just then, hurrying out of the truck stop with several bags under their arms and worried expressions on their faces. When her husband spied Shelly beside the two strangers, he increased his already rapid pace.
“It’s okay,” she signaled. “They’re just worried like everyone else.”
A hurried round of handshakes and introductions passed among the parties, and then Cole and Daisy left to put away the bags of goodies.
“What you said about finding water makes sense,” offered the older driver. “Where did you say you were going?”
“It’s a campground just on the other side of Yuma,” she answered. “And … just curious … what type of goods are you carrying?”
“Food,” responded both of the truckers at the same time. “We were both on our way to one of the big box store chains. I’ve got cases of canned goods and pallets of rice. He’s carrying a similar bill of lading.”
