Zero Point (28 page)

“You’re saying the Swiss scientists couldn’t be sure of their size accuracy?” Tim Byrd of Homeland Security asked, breaking the stunned silence in the room. “So how can we be sure a wave of this height is possible?”

“We have scientific evidence of a prior collapse in the Canary Islands around one hundred twenty thousand years ago.” Pollack countered. “Some scientists believe that evidence can be seen today in the Bahamas. Many of the islands were reshaped in the form of chevrons from the immense force of that wave. There are also many huge boulders that were lifted up off the ocean floor, some weighing over a thousand tons, which were deposited well above sea level. To put this into perspective, Mr. President,
imagine the March 2011 tsunami catastrophe in Japan, but six to eight times bigger in size.”

“My God,” Robertson said in a whisper as silence fell upon the Oval Office at hearing the horrific depiction put before them.

“Thank you, Dr. Pollack,” the President said flatly. “You’ve been very informative and I appreciate your efforts.”

“You’re quite welcome, Mr. President. May I ask you something? I am not aware of reports of activity on the Cumbre Vieja. Is there a problem?”

“No, Dr. Pollack. We’re just planning ahead in case this scenario ever plays out,” Clark lied, disliking the fact that he could not be honest with the man, but wanting to keep this situation under wraps for the moment.

“That’s good to hear,” the scientist chuckled nervously. “My wife and kids are down in Long Island staying at my sister’s beach house.”

“Thank you again, Dr. Pollack. Good bye,” the President said, disconnecting the line and hitting the page button.

“Maggie, get me Admiral Borland.”

“Right away, sir,” she said.

“I think it’s high time that we had a chat with this Turner fellow,” Clark said, rapping his fingers on the desk. “We need to obtain all the information we can.”

“I agree, sir,” the Homeland Security head affirmed. “Right now, he’s our only source of intelligence in this
situation. However, in the last hour or so, we haven’t been able to contact him on the number he provided.”

“He did say to me earlier this morning that the terrorists involved in this plot were out to silence him and his group,” Robertson said as the phone buzzed on the President’s desk.

“Yes, Maggie.”

“Sir, I hate to disturb you but I have a gentleman from the U.S. Geological Survey on the line. He insists that he speak to FEMA Director Boyle. He says it’s urgent.”

“Put him through, Maggie, I’ll have Mr. Boyle pick up,” he said, handing the receiver to Boyle.

“Stephen Boyle, here,” he said as the others watched pensively.

“Mr. Boyle, I’m sorry to disturb you, but my name is Peter Markson. I'm with the U.S.G.S. here in the D.C. bureau, and I’ll come right to the point. We may have a situation developing in the Canary Islands that could have far reaching implications to our country’s safety,” he stated in a serious tone.

“Yes, go on, Mr. Markson,” Boyle replied, giving the President an apprehensive look.

“Well, we have one of our field scientists on the island of La Palma and she has observed volcanic activity, but it contradicts all of our current data reports. I have the utmost confidence in her abilities, so we decided to do further investigation with a series of satellite images. The standard imaging revealed nothing of concern as far as an upwelling of
the lava dome so I was about to dismiss it…until I saw the infrared image. The thermal imaging verifies an intense magnification of thermal temperatures on the Crater del Duraznero, which is indicative of a pending eruption,” he said, pausing for a moment. “Have you ever heard of the mega-tsunami scenario?”

“Hold on, Mr. Markson, I think the President should hear this,” Boyle said, motioning the President to place the call on conference. “I think we just received the verification we need, Mr. President,” he said nervously. “The Cumbre Vieja volcano on La Palma is active.”

23

La Palma Island, Western Flank

G
eologist Rosalie Harris was back on the Cumbre Vieja. She positioned herself carefully on the edge of the Crater del Duraznero, making notes of the newly-formed fumaroles that were opening along the perimeter of the crater.

She noted that the vents of the fumaroles were allowing gases from deep within the magma chamber to escape, ranging from mere water vapor to life threatening gases such as sulfur dioxide and carbon dioxide.

Rosalie wisely decided to keep her distance to record ground temperatures and monitor the seismic activity. She felt the first tremors en route to the ridge line towering thousands of feet above the small towns that lay in the shadow of the old volcano.

Apprehensively aware of the seismic activity that was now increasing in strength on a regular
basis,
she used her infrared digital thermometer to measure ground temperatures as she carefully traversed the crater’s ridge. Adding to her confusion, the ground temperatures were becoming too
extreme for the absence of any upwelling of the dome in the crater.

“It doesn't add up,” she’d told Pete Markson just fifteen minutes prior. “You did the right thing by sending out a broadcast warning. This is not a normal volcanic event, and I can’t judge whether it’s going to pop or not. We don’t have any seismic data from the local survey that jives with what I am seeing here. I don’t see any upwelling or indication of a lava dome, but the fumaroles I see don’t lie. There’s a lot of internal heat pressure building in the magma chamber,” she’d said as another slightly larger tremor rumbled beneath her.

“Rosalie, I’ve spoken to the FEMA director and the President about your mega-slide scenario and they seemed strangely interested in what I gave them. Are you sure something like that could possibly happen?” Markson asked apprehensively.

“Pete, I don’t have a measured scientific answer for you, but your satellite infrared imaging shows a vast amount of heat generating on this ridge. Whatever the scenario, we would have been negligent if you had not sent out an advisory. What they do with it is up to them,” she said in earnest.

“I hope you’re wrong about that slide, Rosalie. Can you imagine the destruction that would be caused by such a tsunami? Rosalie, I want you to get out of there now. It’s too dangerous to remain on that ridge line.”

“Don’t worry, Pete, I don’t have a death wish. I’m leaving right now to help the local authorities coordinate an evacuation of the towns beneath the western flank. I’ll touch base with you as soon as I get a chance,” she said, disconnecting the call before he could respond.

Now, putting her infrared digital thermometer back in her backpack, Rosalie precariously began making her way back down the slope of the crater, slipping on the loose basalt as she proceeded. She continued to follow the old fault that looked as if a giant hoe had scooped out the earth and plowed a deep furrow for miles.

If this flank is going to let loose, it most likely will start along this fault
, she thought. She quickened her pace as another tremor, much stronger than the last, shook the ground beneath her. As the tremor subsided, she heard the distinct sound of a helicopter coming closer. She looked up and saw, through the dense smoke-shrouded summit, a blue and white Bell Ranger helicopter flying low above the huge fault. She watched as the agile craft slowed just beyond the next peak and then began its descent downward as if it were going to land.

***

The sleek Bell Ranger’s 206-B Rolls Royce gas turbo-shaft engine was beginning to feel the effects of the heavy concentrations of carbon dioxide that it flew through along the Cumbre Vieja’s ridge line. The engine whined in protest from
the lack of oxygen in its turbine intakes as the RPM warning light began to flicker.

“We can’t stay here long,” the pilot announced through the flight intercom headset that all four occupants wore. “We’ve got to get out of this pocket of volcanic gases.”

“There,” Eli Turner said, pointing to a flat outcrop just ahead of them. “Set us down there. It seems to be away from the heaviest gas emissions. We’ll have to hike to the rock formation that Maria pinpointed. It should be just a short hike back along the fault line.”

“Eli, there’s a lot of thermal activity going on along this ridge,” she warned, pointing to the vast amount of steam and smoke cascading from the entire length of the ridge. The pilot quickly descended to the relatively safe plateau below the fault line. “Are you sure we should do this?”

“We’ll be in and out of there before you know it, Maria,” Eli said in an effort to calm her apprehension. “If there is any evidence of Simon’s cache of artifacts accessible, we’ll know pretty quickly whether it’s retrievable or not.”

“I hope so,” Burr interjected, now wondering if it was such a wise decision to go ahead with his plan as he saw the forces of nature at work beneath him. “If this thing goes off while we’re here, we're all dead.”

“It’s either now, or never folks. Looks like this thing
is
going to blow no matter what Pencor and his goons do at this point,” Eli said as the chopper set down lightly on the flat surface of basalt.

As the turbines whined to a halt, the three exited the Bell Ranger’s rear door and stepped onto the barren landscape that looked like an alien world. Burr quickly walked around to the other side to retrieve the backpack and rope from the pilot.

“Wait here until we return,” he instructed the pilot, who nodded in understanding. Burr grabbed the pack and threw Eli the coil of nylon rope, which he slung over his arm. The three set off, making their way up a small rise to the twelve foot fault line, its trench running along the ridge that partially slipped in the 1949 eruption. Heading north along the trench line, they saw little vegetation save the small outcrops of rock grass that had precariously taken root over the years.

The trio came to an abrupt halt when a jolting tremor shook the earth beneath them for a moment and then ceased. After looking at each other for a few uneasy moments, they started walking again. Now sweating profusely from the elevated temperatures and heavy mist of steam, they came to a deep gash in the earth that wound around a large formation of rocks. Eli stopped as he saw a lone figure coming out of the mist ahead of them.

“Hello!” A woman’s voice called out as the figure from the mist started walking toward to them.

“Howdy,” Eli said, coughing as the pungent sting of sulfur permeated his sinuses.

“You people should get out of here now,” the woman said, pointing to the caldera she just came from and covering
her mouth with a handkerchief. “There are a lot of poisonous gases being released, not to mention the threat of rock slides. You’re putting yourselves in a lot of danger if you remain.”

“And you are?” Burr asked indignantly.

“I’m a field scientist with the U.S. Geological Survey. I’m warning you that this volcano could erupt at any time and if you—”

“We’re well aware of the situation,” Eli interrupted her. “We are not going to be up here long, but if you are going back down, you must get a warning out to the towns beneath this volcano. They need to be evacuated as soon as possible.”

“I’m already on it. I am going to help the local authorities once I get down. They’ve begun issuing the warning already, so do
yourselves
a favor and get off this ridge now.”

“We’ll take it under advisement. Thanks,” Eli said as the three started off in the opposite direction.

“Fools!”
Rosalie yelled, shaking her head in disbelief as she turned and headed into the shrouded mist.

Ten minutes later, the three came to a breach in the acrid mist, where they saw a large formation of rocks sitting just above the fault line.

“There it is.” Maria yelled as she ran toward the rock. Though damaged greatly during the 1949 eruption, the distinct shape of a hand could be clearly made out as the three continued to their goal. Climbing out of the fault line on large step-like rocks, they maneuvered to a point just above
the deep trench. Eli looked in wonder at the formation, curious as to what secrets it held.

“What are we looking for?” Burr asked as the three stood at the lower base of the huge stone hand.

“Simon’s scroll indicated that the relics were beneath the Hand of God,” Maria replied, eyeing the rock for anything unnatural while walking slowly along its massive base. “There’s been so much erosion and shifting over the centuries,” she added. “It may take days of excavation to find any sign of a burial chamber.”

“I’ll check the high side of the rock, Maria,” Eli said, making his way up the side of the monolith, and then disappearing into the mist around its upper corner.

“Search for anything that looks like an opening, or for any unnatural cuts in the rock face.” Maria instructed Burr as the two slowly worked their way along the base, scraping the loosened basalt from the base of the rock with their hands.

It began as a slight tremor, running along the depression in the fault line from the Crater del Duraznero and traversing the entire length of the break in the earth. Increasing exponentially in strength, the tremor made its way to the huge rock formation. The tormented earth began to shake beneath them as the fault line fractured under the tremendous forces at work along the Cumbre Vieja ridge. As the new fracture began to widen and a vast column of noxious gasses were released, the three explorers were thrown to the ground like rag dolls.