IT was still too early to celebrate. They knew they’d be on edge for the next few days. They’d have to wait until they could get a definitive reading from the GPS system. The satellite data would tell them if the ground was deforming anywhere along the extensive seismic zone. A crucial test, it was the only way to assess how much elastic strain energy remained trapped in the ground.
Atkins doubted they’d released all of it. A one-megaton bomb simply wasn’t powerful enough to do that, but they didn’t have to. Their strategy all along was to discharge just enough tectonic stress or “critical asperity” to break the cycle of earthquakes without pushing the fault into a major upheaval.
The ultimate outcome still wasn’t known, but for the time being, they couldn’t deny there’d been a pronounced drop-off in seismic activity. Atkins wanted to believe it was happening, wanted to let down his guard, his scientific skepticism, and hope for the best.
“Excuse me, sir, but do you know you’ve been shot?” one of the soldiers said, a medic.
Atkins took his first good look at his right forearm. Wren’s bullet had opened a shallow furrow that ran just across the wrist. The bullet had nicked the bone, but hadn’t done any serious damage.
The medic quickly got a bandage on it and examined Atkins’ nose.
“Good clean break,” he said. “Looks like the second time, right?”
Atkins nodded. He winced when the soldier gently touched the bridge.
“I like it,” Elizabeth said, smiling. “I think it helps.”
She kept remembering how she felt when she’d climbed out of the mine. It had hurt to be out of his sight, not knowing what was happening to him as the shaking intensified. Leaving him below in the darkness was the most difficult thing she’d ever done.
When Atkins took her in his arms, something burst open inside him, an aching release unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Trapped in the depths of the mine, he hadn’t allowed himself to think about this moment—hadn’t dared. She’d taken off her hard hat. Her dark blond hair hung to the shoulders of her jumpsuit, which was caked with coal dust and white powder. He’d thought about her hair often during the last few hours, wondering whether he’d ever see it again. He wanted to run his fingers through it.
Just after 11:00 P.M., Army patrols reported the route was secure. They got back into their Humvees and other vehicles and drove two miles to the red shack, where they spent the rest of the night, drinking strong coffee as Thompson’s team continued to monitor the encouraging seismic readings.
In the morning, as the sun began to rise in a clear blue-gray sky, Atkins and Elizabeth took a walk. They hiked along the ridge to an opening in the trees where they could look out over a wide valley.
Elizabeth noticed them first, the distant shapes almost obscured in the long shadows that had spread across the floor of the valley as the sun climbed higher over the hills.
Atkins had borrowed a pair of binoculars. He adjusted the eyepiece. The image snapped into sharp view—a line of brown-and-white cows that had come out of the woods single file and were grazing in the pasture. Farther off, he saw two horses with their heads down, a mare and a gray colt, feeding in the tall grass.
They were the first animals they’d seen in days.
Atkins finally let himself dare to believe it. Finally let himself go.
It was over.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The author gratefully acknowledges the following:
Gutenberg-Richter Publications, for the illustrations previously published in
The St. Louis University Earthquake Center, website http://www.eas.sluedu/Earthquake-Center for the illustration.
Thomas Borgman, for the illustrations.
A number of seismologists, disaster planners, structural and mining engineers, nuclear weapons experts, and others provided invaluable help in researching this book. I here thank several who took extra pains. I tried to hew to scientific fact as much as possible, and I take full responsibility for reworking facts for the sake of fiction; the good people I acknowledge bear no responsibility for how I used the material they so graciously provided.
My thanks to Robert B. Herrmann, professor of geophysics at St. Louis University; James E. Beavers of Oak Ridge, Tennessee, a structural engineer and expert on natural and technological hazards; Bob Neel and Jim Gover of Albuquerque, New Mexico, both alumni of the Nevada Test Site, who explained the art of detonating nuclear bombs underground; Reid L. Kress of the Robotics Systems Division at the Oak Ridge National Laboratory; and Arch Johnston, director of research at the University of Memphis Center for Earthquake Research and Information.
Thanks also to a great editor, David Highfill of G. P. Putnam’s Sons, and to my agent, Richard Pine of Arthur Pine & Associates. Thanks also to Howie Sanders and Richard Green in Los Angeles.
And special thanks to my wife, Janice.
About the Author
Peter Hernon lives near Chicago with his wife, Janice, and two daughters. He is an editor for the
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary, although the existence of the New Madrid Seismic Zone and its potential for future activity are acknowledged by government and independent researchers alike. The characters are fictitious. They are not intended to represent specific persons or to suggest that the events described actually occurred.
8.4
Garrett County Digital
PUBLISHING HISTORY
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS EDITION / FEBRUARY 1999
PUBLISHED SIMULTANEOUSLY IN CANADA
JOVE EDITION / NOVEMBER 1999
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1999 by Peter Hernon.
This book may not be reproduced in whole or part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission. For information address:
GARRETT COUNTY PRESS
ISBN: 978-1-891053-62-7
