Read Curtain Fall: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 1) for Free Online Page B
Authors: Kenneth Cary
about Yellowstone. At least until the recent news report, and the flood of information that came rushing back to the front of his mind.
John knew the effects of such a disaster would be catastrophic to everyone in North America. An ash fall of such magnitude would devastate crops, kill cattle, disrupt ground and air transportation, contaminate fresh water supplies, and cause a massive and lasting power outage. The effect on air travel would be global. Aircraft would not be able to fly for months, if not years, because there would be so much fine particulate matter in the atmosphere that it would freeze jet engines. “Oh, and let’s not forget potential climate change,” John said aloud. His voice reverberated up and down the empty stairwell.
The effects of a Caldera eruption would introduce such a cataclysmic change that food would become scarce, and society, as we know it, would essentially collapse. John paused at the top of the stairs to collect his thoughts. He had to clear his mind before entering the meeting. He knew an eruption could very well mean the end of the world as he knew it, and he was about to sit in a meeting that meant absolutely nothing to him, his family, or his future.
J ohn may have been physically sitting in the staff meeting, but his mind was elsewhere. He was thinking about ash, volcanic ash, and lots of it. Somewhere deep within the recesses of his mind, he kept pulling up statistics about the release of ash if the Yellowstone Caldera erupted. He knew it would be somewhere in the ballpark of 26,000 times the amount of ash released by Mount St. Helens in May of 1980.
Ironically, John was reminded of the Mount St. Helens eruption quite often. He had a mason jar filled with volcanic ash sitting on his bookshelf at home. John’s father had filled three mason jars shortly after the eruption sent ash falling across ten states. Most of the ash went east, with the prevailing winds, but a generous amount had fallen along I-5. His dad stopped to collect the ash samples from three different locations as he drove north, toward Tacoma, in Washington State.
John remembered how excited his father was when he brought home three jars of ash. At first, John thought it was silly to have three jars of ash when one would do, but when he opened up each jar he better understood his father’s interest and excitement. The consistency of the ash in each jar was different.
John learned from his father that the finer ash was the first sample he collected. The ash was very fine, like gray baby powder. Because it was light, his father explained, it traveled the furthest from the volcano, and was the first to be collected. John was even more amazed at the ash in the third jar, the one collected closest to the volcano, or about thirty miles from the eruption site.
The ash in that jar was flaky, and much more crystalline than the other samples. John rubbed the ash between his fingers and marveled at its consistency. It felt a little like powdered glass. Intrigued by the samples, John asked his father if he could have one of the jars. His father agreed, and John chose the sample in the first jar, the one filled with the fine, powder-like ash. He didn’t know why he picked the first jar - he would have been happy with any one – but there was something about the ash that seemed important, relevant to him.
Rebecca cleared her throat and John refocused his attention. She was studying him, her brown eyes keen, attempting to penetrate John’s apparent apathy toward all things business related. “Are you okay?” she asked, with mild curiosity etching her expression.
“Yes. I’m fine,” replied John. And then he added, “Sorry, I was lost in thought,” followed by another involuntary reflex to look at his watch. He immediately regretted it and cringed.
“Are we keeping you from something, John?” asked Rebecca.
John attempted to play it off, “Beg your pardon?”
“You’re not with us this morning . . . and
John knew the effects of such a disaster would be catastrophic to everyone in North America. An ash fall of such magnitude would devastate crops, kill cattle, disrupt ground and air transportation, contaminate fresh water supplies, and cause a massive and lasting power outage. The effect on air travel would be global. Aircraft would not be able to fly for months, if not years, because there would be so much fine particulate matter in the atmosphere that it would freeze jet engines. “Oh, and let’s not forget potential climate change,” John said aloud. His voice reverberated up and down the empty stairwell.
The effects of a Caldera eruption would introduce such a cataclysmic change that food would become scarce, and society, as we know it, would essentially collapse. John paused at the top of the stairs to collect his thoughts. He had to clear his mind before entering the meeting. He knew an eruption could very well mean the end of the world as he knew it, and he was about to sit in a meeting that meant absolutely nothing to him, his family, or his future.
J ohn may have been physically sitting in the staff meeting, but his mind was elsewhere. He was thinking about ash, volcanic ash, and lots of it. Somewhere deep within the recesses of his mind, he kept pulling up statistics about the release of ash if the Yellowstone Caldera erupted. He knew it would be somewhere in the ballpark of 26,000 times the amount of ash released by Mount St. Helens in May of 1980.
Ironically, John was reminded of the Mount St. Helens eruption quite often. He had a mason jar filled with volcanic ash sitting on his bookshelf at home. John’s father had filled three mason jars shortly after the eruption sent ash falling across ten states. Most of the ash went east, with the prevailing winds, but a generous amount had fallen along I-5. His dad stopped to collect the ash samples from three different locations as he drove north, toward Tacoma, in Washington State.
John remembered how excited his father was when he brought home three jars of ash. At first, John thought it was silly to have three jars of ash when one would do, but when he opened up each jar he better understood his father’s interest and excitement. The consistency of the ash in each jar was different.
John learned from his father that the finer ash was the first sample he collected. The ash was very fine, like gray baby powder. Because it was light, his father explained, it traveled the furthest from the volcano, and was the first to be collected. John was even more amazed at the ash in the third jar, the one collected closest to the volcano, or about thirty miles from the eruption site.
The ash in that jar was flaky, and much more crystalline than the other samples. John rubbed the ash between his fingers and marveled at its consistency. It felt a little like powdered glass. Intrigued by the samples, John asked his father if he could have one of the jars. His father agreed, and John chose the sample in the first jar, the one filled with the fine, powder-like ash. He didn’t know why he picked the first jar - he would have been happy with any one – but there was something about the ash that seemed important, relevant to him.
Rebecca cleared her throat and John refocused his attention. She was studying him, her brown eyes keen, attempting to penetrate John’s apparent apathy toward all things business related. “Are you okay?” she asked, with mild curiosity etching her expression.
“Yes. I’m fine,” replied John. And then he added, “Sorry, I was lost in thought,” followed by another involuntary reflex to look at his watch. He immediately regretted it and cringed.
“Are we keeping you from something, John?” asked Rebecca.
John attempted to play it off, “Beg your pardon?”
“You’re not with us this morning . . . and
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