Caldera

By David Hawk

From the bestselling author of the Event Horizon Series.

 

It's been a year since Colton's wife died and he's unable to move on. He thought that a weekend to Yellowstone would help. Maybe he could reconnect with his son. But, just as they arrive, the supervolcano comes to life. Now, Colton and his son are thrust into a desperate struggle to survive, while outside the park, society is pushed toward the brink of collapse.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Books To Go Now
• Release date: Jan 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393639824

Book preview

PART 1

Yellowstone

Prologue

During the time of the mastodon, the saber-toothed cats and dire wolves, a giant lake of molten rock and gas exploded from under what is now Yellowstone National Park in Northern Wyoming. It buried much of North America in a foot of ash. Two million years earlier, an eruption left a hole in the region the size of Rhode Island and it tipped the planet into an ice age. Scientists have calculated that the Yellowstone super volcano erupts on a 600,000 to 700,000-year cycle. The last eruption was 640,000 years ago.

Chapter One

Colorado-Wyoming Border , United States

The trip was long overdue, but Colton had kept putting it off, because actually going would make everything real. It would make everything final, and he would be forced to move forward. That was simply too heavy of a burden to bear. Colton knew that finality would cast a shadow over the entire trip, and he didn’t know if he had the strength to keep going.

The warm, late summer wind blew in through the open windows of the rented Dodge Charger. Large conifer pines stood sentry along the rural highway in the northern Colorado Rockies. The Beatles flowed from the stereo, telling the world that all it needed was love. A brown sign ahead announced that they were about to leave Colorful Colorado.

The wind whistled through the open windows and there was the occasional thump as the muscle car ran over the cracks in the road. Colton’s thirteen-year-old son, Lucas, sat in the passenger seat. His floppy, black hair covered a face that was buried in his phone. A phone that Colton had purchased as a peace offering after an argument. A phone that his wife had objected to, but he was insistent about. Now, the phone was the only thing  Lucas paid attention to, and right now, he was a million miles away. Just as he had been for the last year.

Colton flipped over the next two songs, landing on a Bob Marley tune. It told Colton not to worry about a thing, because every little thing was gonna be all right. Was it though? he wondered. Every day, Lucas drifted further away, lost in an ocean of fear and guilt. Colton felt those same things, but he couldn’t let his son see that. He had to hide it until there was nobody around and then he would allow himself to lose it. It had been a year without his Chelsea, and things certainly weren’t all fucking right. Colton’s mind drifted, as it almost always did those days, to his late wife.

FROM THE MOMENT HE met Chelsea at a party that his friend Dale had thrown, he knew he was going to marry her. A wife wasn’t something he sought. It wasn’t anywhere near the front of his mind. The life of a single, college kid was great. He went to morning classes at Denver State University and worked late at the Mexican joint that had just opened in LoDo, near the campus. His job put his fairly average looks in front of a lot of women. That whole summer, up until  Dale’s party, he had hooked up with a fair number of them.

THE NEXT SONG THAT came on in the Dodge was a Beatles track about a blackbird singing in the dead of night. The song triggered a memory in Colton’s mind, that was so raw  it nearly caused him to lose his composure. He stifled his whimper with a cough and nonchalantly dabbed at a tear at the corner of his eye. The memory was of the first vacation he had spent with Chelsea, up in Yellowstone National Park.

THEY HAD ONLY BEEN together for six months and Chelsea was two months pregnant. The trip had fallen into their laps. Colton’s mom had booked a trip to Yellowstone as a quick getaway for her and Colton’s father, but just a week before they were set to leave, Colton’s father collapsed while waiting in line at Taco Bell. He was rushed to the hospital, where he had a triple bypass. The doctor told them that the trip was off, and Colton’s mother couldn’t get her money back. So, she asked Colton if he and Chelsea wanted to go.

Always impulsive, Colton felt that the trip would be the perfect time for him to ask Chelsea to marry him. He wanted to propose to her when they were up in Yellowstone, on the top of a peak after a long hike, or maybe after a fancy dinner that they certainly couldn’t afford. He was nervous that she’d say no. They had only been together for a short while, and, even though they were about to have a baby together, he wasn’t certain that Chelsea wanted to be anchored to him for the rest of her life.

It was a nine-hour drive from Denver to Yellowstone, but the time seemed to melt away. They stayed at a shitty motel in Cody, Wyoming, and had spent the better part of the next couple of days catching all of the touristy sites within the park—having to stop every couple of miles so Chelsea could either vomit or pee. They visited places like Yellowstone Lake, the Artist’s Paint Pots and Geyser Basin, where Old Faithful erupted every sixty to ninety minutes. Every detail of that drive was imprinted into Colton’s memory.

On the last day, Colton had taken the highway toward the north, and through the expansive Hayden Valley. Traffic had come to a sudden halt, and there was a line of cars and bright yellow tour buses pulled over to the side of the road. Colton rolled down his window and stuck his head outside to see what the deal was.

A line of bison, at least fifty of them, lumbered down the center of the highway. There were a mix of large bulls, growling and trudging along next to smaller females and a handful of calves. The air was cool and sharp, and their misting breath hovered in the air before ascending upward.

Colton knew that now was the time to ask Chelsea to marry him. There couldn’t be a more perfect opportunity. He slid his head back inside and told Chelsea about the bison. They both slowly got out of the car, trying to make as little noise as possible. They stood next to his car, a beat-up, blue Chevy Cavalier, and watched as the line of bison continued their slow walk down the highway. Colton held onto Chelsea’s hand, while neither of them spoke a word.

An older man, with a silver hair, stood beside of a red, newer-model Corvette. Blackbird drifted from the Corvette’s open windows. Colton reached into his pocket and felt the small, felt box that contained a thin ring with a small diamond chip on top. He pulled it out while Chelsea’s attention was fixed on the crossing bison. He moved around until he was in front of her. She looked confused, for just a moment, until she saw the box in his hands. She clapped her hands to her mouth and her eyes became glassy with tears.

Colton dropped to his right knee, holding the box with one hand and Chelsea’s hand with the other. He looked up into her big, brown eyes and her pointy, little nose covered in freckles. Colton knew that he could never love someone so much in his life. Chelsea—

Yes! she said, without letting him finish.

He jumped up from the ground and picked her up in his arms. She leaned down and kissed him. A round of applause came from all around them. Feeling a little embarrassed, Colton gave the other drivers standing by their cars a small wave and then kissed his new fiancée, again. They got into the car, turned back toward their hotel, and spent the rest of the day making love. Since the day they were engaged, Blackbird had been their song. 

LISTENING TO THE SONG now, Blackbird no longer conveyed happy memories. Instead, it only brought mental images of a white porcelain urn, with lilies painted in blue, sitting atop a black pedestal, and with smiling pictures of his dead wife flanking its sides. Colton started to emerge from the memory, it was just too painful to look into the past. There was just no restraining the hurt and pain, and tears streamed down his face

Colton wiped the tears from his eyes and looked over to see if his son had caught him in the moment of weakness. For once, he was happy that Lucas was buried in his phone and oblivious to the world. Colton changed the song to Thunder Road by Bruce Springsteen. The song may have changed, but Chelsea was firmly etched inside his mind. He had hoped that he could keep her memory at bay. At least until they had completed the unfathomable task of spreading her ashes in Yellowstone. Now, it looked as if she would be with them the entire way.

Chapter Two

Colton slowed the rental car down as he turned from Highway 120, west to Highway 14. Signs for Cody appeared up ahead. More memories began to emerge. He remembered eating greasy cheeseburgers with his future wife at a truck stop in the center of town and then touring the Buffalo Bill Center. He wondered if either the truck stop, or the museum were still around. He nosed the car off the road and brought out his phone.

Lucas briefly looked up to see what was going on and went back to his phone. Colton searched the area for the truck-stop. There were a couple of them, either of which could be the same one he remembered going to. Or neither of them could be. He set up the directions to the one closest to the Buffalo Bill Center. He checked that no one was coming and drove back onto the highway, as a long Stevie Ray Vaughn guitar solo drifted through the speakers.

Colton was awed by all of the natural beauty surrounding him. The sky was crystal blue, and it reflected off the shrub-covered hills. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The air whipping into the open windows was cool and sweet, smelling faintly of sage. Colton turned his head toward his son. The last year had been impossible, but he loved the kid more than ever.

Lucas looked back at him. There was a deep furrow creasing down the center of his forehead. A look that Colton knew well and one that he had passed down through genetics. Lucas didn’t say anything but rolled his eyes and hit the button to raise the window. Colton waited until his son had stopped giving him the irritated look before rolling up his own window.

Colton started to breathe as slowly and deeply as he could. Anger was boiling up from his stomach, like acid. His skin felt like it was on fire and his scalp tingled like it was made from small currents of electricity. He reached over to his son, wanting to flick the ear buds from his ears, but he caught himself. He reeled his hand back in and placed it on the steering wheel.

The GPS told Colton to exit the highway and that his destination would be coming up on the right. A tall sign announced that Big Jim’s Gas and Diner was now open twenty-four hours.  He pulled into a large parking lot full of dirty, long-box trucks. There was a cloud of cigarette smoke hovering just above the dozens of diesel pumps. Colton parked the car and looked around as he got out. This definitely wasn’t the truck stop where he had come with Chelsea, but he figured it should be fine.

What is this place? Lucas asked.

You hungry? Coltan asked. I thought we could grab a burger before the last push up to the park.

His son shrugged and started walking toward the diner. Colton followed behind, breathing slowly again. He just needed to keep his rising anger in check for a while longer. The tension would fade once they’d had a chance to settle into their hotel, where they’d stay up late, eating bad Mexican food and Colton would tell unflattering stories of his youth. Maybe they would even find something that they could both relate to. Maybe they could finally start moving forward again. Maybe.

Lucas held the door open for two large truckers exiting the diner. They passed through while talking with each other and ignored the boy.

You’re welcome, Colton heard Lucas say.

What’d you say, you little shit? asked one of the truckers, a man wearing a pair of holey nylon shorts, a red NASCAR shirt and a faded, brown, and tan Browning baseball cap.

I...said...you’re...welcome, Lucas answered, accentuating every syllable.

Colton locked eyes with the smaller of the two truckers—smaller by maybe two inches and thirty pounds. The man was old and had deep wrinkles around his face, the result of several decades worth of smoking cigarettes, he assumed. Atop the old man’s head was a green John Deere baseball cap and he wore a pair of oil-stained overalls. Colton felt adrenaline entering his bloodstream and flowing to each part of his body. He began to tremble. His mind quickly raced along, trying to find a peaceful solution to this. The worst part was, that his son had seen him do that same thing at least a thousand times.

This little shit belong to you? the smaller trucker asked, pointing at Lucas.

A rusted, silver Ford pickup truck pulled up to the side of the restaurant. It paused for a moment. The driver must have sensed that something was about to happen, because the truck backed up and returned to the road.

Colton knew that he had to pick his next words carefully. His mind was always a step behind his mouth, but this time, they needed to be in sync. Luke, please apologize to these gentlemen for being impolite.

That’s bullshit! Lucas yelled out.

Luke, just say you’re sorry so we can all move on, he said, clenching his teeth.

Yeah, you little sissy, listen to what daddy tells ya, said the larger trucker.

Like I said, asshole. You’re welcome, Lucas said.

You little fucker, said the larger trucker.

The man stomped his way toward where Lucas stood. Colton bolted for the man, trying to intercept him. He turned just as a meaty fist, thrown by the old trucker, passed by his face. It missed him by centimeters, causing the old trucker to lose his balance and tumble onto the cracked asphalt parking lot. He leapt over the smaller man and was there just as the larger man grabbed the hood of Lucas’s jacket. Colton launched himself into the man. The two of them fell to the ground, with the large man landing on top of Colton, and his fist cocked to fire a solid blow  

Bill, get off that man. Right now! shouted a raspy female voice.

He felt the man tense up, put his fist down, and slowly stand up. Colton raised himself up his on elbows to see who the voice belonged to. An old woman with long, silver hair stood with her arm around Lucas. She wore a white apron over a mint-green skirt, and cheap, plastic name tag, with the name Laverne etched into it. The woman’s face had just as many wrinkles as the old trucker, and she wore a large pair of glasses with  square frames.

Y’all some tough men, picking on a kid like that, said the old woman.

But, Ma, said the large man.

And what about you, Dick? asked Laverne. You gonna get in a fistfight at yer age? You know you’d drop dead of a heart attack. I bet if you knuckleheads leave now, maybe I can convince these gentlemen not to press no charges.

Colton got up from the ground and dusted himself off. No, it’s all right. It was just a misunderstanding.

Yeah, just a misunderstanding, Bill, the large trucker agreed.

Why don’t y’all come in? asked Laverne.

Bill flashed an intense look at Colton. A look that said that if their paths ever crossed again, Colton needed to stay as far away from him as possible. He took the hint and walked over to where Lucas stood. He could hear Laverne chomping down on a piece of gum. A blue haze of stale cigarette smoke hung in the restaurant air behind her.

There were three occupied tables inside the square dining room. A man with a long, grey ponytail sat in the corner on the opposite side of the restaurant. He held a newspaper in-between his hands and had a pair of reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. He wore a Grateful Dead tie-dye shirt and had faded tattoos on his forearms. Two Hispanic men sat at a shiny red booth closest to the door. They each wore blue denim shirts and white cowboy hats.

A bell dinged in the kitchen and a pimply kid in a Wyoming Cowboys hat put two plates of steaming food on the silver counter. Order up.

Why don’t you gentlemen have a seat right over there? Laverne said, pointing to a booth behind a table occupied by an old couple.

I appreciate it, Colton said.

He put his hand on his son’s back and he could feel little trembles running through him. He rubbed his son’s back but was shrugged off. If he didn’t calm his son down, and soon, an anxiety attack was imminent. They took their seats opposite each other. His son was rubbing his hands together, another indication that Lucas was anxious. Colton reached out and grabbed his son’s hands until they were still.

You’re okay, buddy, he said. We’re both okay. Let’s just breathe.

Lucas tried to pull away, but Colton held on firmly. We’re okay. We’re going to be at the park in less than an hour.

I don’t want to be here, said Lucas.

I’ll make you a deal, Colton said. Let’s just stay the night up here. Maybe go for a drive in the morning. We’ll find the right spot for your mom, and then we’ll leave. We can be back home by tomorrow night.

He felt his son stop trying to pull away.

I’m sorry, Lucas said.

Colton gripped Lucas’s hands tighter and stared him straight in the eyes. There’s nothing to be sorry for.

Those dudes were huge, his son said, cracking a smile for the first time. Colton felt the atmosphere  lighten, like the quiet after a large storm.

Yeah, they were, he said, smiling. You’ve got some balls, kid.

Laverne walked up with two glasses of water in a red cup. Whatcha boys gett’n?

I’ll have the cheeseburger with fries, Lucas said.

I’ll second that.

Tell you what, I’m sorry my boy and his daddy gave you a hassle, Laverne said. I’ll throw in a couple pieces of pie to make up for it.

There really is no need, Colton replied. Really, it was just a big misunderstanding.

Fair enough, said Laverne. You boys here to see the park?

Yeah, just a little father and son weekend before school starts, Colton said.

You picked a good weekend to come up, said the old woman. Most of the summer crowd has gone home for the season.

Where’s the best place to see the bison? Colton asked.

Who knows? Laverne replied. They go wherever they want. Try Hayden Valley. Just make sure you get to the park early. That’s when they’re the most active.

Thank you, he said.

Laverne turned and walked away. Colton looked over and saw that Lucas was zoned out on his phone, once more. Colton pulled out his own phone and searched the area for places to see. He looked up the Hayden Valley and an article caught his eye. It was from a geology blog called The Rock Report. The headline read Yellowstone’s Ticking Timebomb, written by Dr. Rick Joyce.

Colton opened up the story and read about the park’s explosive history and the devastation that it caused. The final line of the story read, It’s been 640,000 years since the last eruption at Yellowstone, and we are long overdue. Colton let out a little chuckle at the sensational line. He scrolled down to the comments and saw that the first one was from someone named RocksRok.

This story is complete bullshit. Stop trying to scare people, the comment read.

Colton looked at the date the comment was posted. It was five years ago. He chuckled again, turned his phone off and put it in his front pocket. He heard the kitchen bell ding. He looked over and saw Laverne place two cheeseburgers onto a round tray, followed by a bottle of ketchup and mustard. She turned away from the kitchen and started walking toward them.

In an instant, the world began to shake, violently. The tinkling sound of plates crashing to the floor, came from the kitchen. Pictures fell from the wall, the glass from their frames shattered on the floor. Laverne was caught off balance by the shaking earth and she fell hard to the floor. The tray with the cheeseburgers scattered everywhere. The bottle of ketchup cracked open and red sauce slowly oozed out of the broken bottle, looking a lot like a stream of blood.

Colton leapt from his seat to help the old woman. Dust from the ceiling