“Well, good and bad,” he said. Another hour, they should be clear, but like everywhere else that was hit, it will only be a matter of time before they have to lock down again.”
“They won’t have enough air in their tanks to keep doing it over and over.”
“I have a plan for that. We can discuss it at my lab. I have a great think tank happening here.”
“That’s great to know,” Susan said.
Like Armenov, Susan was anxious to get started and get to work. She needed to know what he learned and what they knew. Even though she was informed by Gene and the Reston lab, she needed to see the data herself.
She knew, even without seeing readouts, it was going to get worse again, what she wanted to do was look beyond the bad, the upcoming events and triggers. For the sake of her family and everyone who had survived, Susan would look for the silver lining, signs that it would get better eventually. If … that would ever happen.
<><><><>
Flight 3430
Gary knew and was ready. He knew the chances were slim that every single passenger would have the oxygen masks on correctly. They’d either fail to put it on and secure it or they’d have it only covering their mouths, which was common when the masks dropped in emergency situation.
Memories of an experience ten years earlier flashed in his mind. A flight from Salt Lake to Los Angeles, the cabin lost pressure, the masks deployed and thirty percent of the passengers passed out from not using the masks correctly.
Not that he was an expert, but from what Gary saw in Kearns when the eruption occurred, it was about two minutes until everyone died.
Two minutes.
Not a lot of time, but enough to try.
Thirty rows.
Not all of them full.
Gabe had told him during the fueling there were one hundred and fifty passengers.
He had his SBA ready when he called out to the captain to drop the masks, then Gary immediately put on his, undid his belt and stood.
At that point, the ground had already rumbled, screams had erupted over the close explosion.
The countdown was truly on.
It was difficult walking while the plane barreled down the runway. He focused on his balance, ignoring the waves of the flight attendants telling him to sit down.
Gary made his way down the aisle and did so quickly.
It was his intention to visually check each passenger and their oxygen, making sure they had it one.
If they didn’t cover their nose, and they breathed in, they were taking in methane.
The first row to the right was the downed and inured co-pilot. He lay across the seats. The woman tending to him, in Gary’s opinion, was a rock star.
She wore her mask correctly and she held his on his face. On the floor of the first row, the woman leaned over Lance, holding him down with her upper body, while her leg extended back, foot pressed to the partition wall of the plane, bracing her in position.
Gary didn’t have time to waste, he moved quickly down the aisle of the plane. Holding tight, fighting against the pull of the plane’s high speed climb.
He had already encountered three people not wearing their masks correctly and he was only on the fourth row.
Thankfully reaching out to one of them and fixing it, caused another to fix hers.
It was nerves and fear that caused people to not think rationally, to not take the proper steps.
So much time was spent stopping, reaching and fixing masks, Gary barely made it halfway through the plane in that first deadly minute.
The oxygen in those masks would last only twelve minutes. It would take half that time to get to a safe altitude and even less than that for deadly levels to be achieved in the body of that plane.
It wasn’t going to end well for a lot of people, Gary feared that.
His fears were confirmed when he reached the twenty-second row and saw a passenger had died.
He tried to put their mask on, but it was too late.
They were gone, like so many he saw die in Kearns.
And Gary knew, sadly, that passenger wasn’t going to be the only one.
<><><><>
Billings, MT
It was the same time every day, Gene got tired. His body felt old and heavy, his eyes burned and he needed the midday pick up. He wasn’t sure whether it was really physical or psychological, but the routine of leaving the office, going to the local coffee house always worked.
He did the same thing, but it wasn’t the need for coffee as much as the need to see.
His curiosity was getting the best of him.
He had been at the Naval Operations support center since the night before. In that room, breathing apparatus and oxygen on hand, when or if the methane eruption happened. A part of him believed the chances of it happening near Billings were slim, especially after Hardon was hit.
But lightning struck twice at Hardin, this time, Gene believed that opening allowed for an even larger eruption, one that spread out for a hundred miles.
They lost the probe they lowered into the hole, but one eight miles away in a field and only fifty feet deep, gave them the best readings.
When levels went high there, it was game over.
The eruption happened fourteen minutes after that level piqued. When Gene left the monitoring room at the center, the field monitor was normal.
Phones were still working, he had a signal, and if they rose, he would get a phone call.
Perhaps it wasn’t the best decision to leave that room.
He didn’t have to even step foot outside before he saw bodies.
People just
