The Geostorm Series (Book 6): Geostorm [The Pioneers] Read online

  Mother Nature was just getting started. The rising water levels put an enormous strain on the planet’s tectonic plates. Massive volcanic eruptions unleashed ash and pumice into the sky. These eruptions could be heard for thousands of miles and were easily seen by the inhabitants of the ISS. In the blink of an eye, islands like Montserrat in the Caribbean Sea were obliterated. The Soufriere Hills volcanic dome collapsed into the surrounding water, sending landslides of earthen material underwater for miles.

  The continuous month-long rainfall resulted in landslides across the U.S. Cities and communities once nestled in scenic valleys were buried under the sides of mountains and later swamped by swollen rivers and newly formed lakes.

  Around the world, whole sides of mountains disappeared, covering every living being in the valleys below. In Southern Russia, as the Kolka Glacier began to refreeze due to the suddenly colder weather in mid-September of that year, the weight became too much for the mountaintop upon which it was perched.

  The glacier began to collapse, resulting in an avalanche of ice and debris raining down Mount Kazbek. The avalanche shook the planet surface so hard that seismic activity emanated from the mountain for hundreds of miles in all directions, toppling buildings throughout the Caucasus region of Russia and nearby Georgia.

  The greatest localized damage across America resulted from the rapid megafloods. Some of the most spectacular canyons on Earth (and arguably the surface of Mars) had been formed in the distant past over centuries. A geologic second.

  During the four-week deluge of rainfall that overwhelmed North America, a geologic nanosecond, if you will, huge crevices were carved into the ground. New canyons ranging from thirty feet to hundreds were carved into the earth by flooding. As the waters rose from the megafloods, gravity pulled them to their lowest point. They followed the path of least resistance, generally into existing creek and river beds.

  The roaring torrents churned and dug at the earth, tearing off hunks of hills and mountains, carrying debris, both earthen and man-made, and man. These catastrophic floods were so powerful, they were easily capable of cutting into bedrock, resulting in landslides and avalanches where none had existed before.

  All of this carnage was observed by the astronauts as if it were a big-screen, blockbuster action movie made in Hollywood with the aid of digital cinematography. Only, it was very real.

  Chapter 24

  FEMA Camp

  Near Martin’s Fork Lake in the Cumberland Mountains

  Three Point, Kentucky

  The Federal Emergency Management Agency was a necessary government agency that was intended to do noble work—prevent, protect, mitigate, respond to, and recover from threats and hazards. To their credit, the fine folks at FEMA did their part to convince Americans to be prepared for disasters. You know, the standard line. Keep three days of food, water and medications on hand. Be sure to have plenty of flashlights and batteries.

  Of course, the rapid pole shift and the epic catastrophe it created were never imagined by most anyone. Preparing for it would’ve been difficult, especially if you followed FEMA’s three days of preparedness standard.

  So a nation of refugees was created when the cataclysm rocked the planet. Those who were unprepared looked to their government to help them, and FEMA did their level best to mitigate and respond to the threat.

  FEMA was an agency that had received a bad rap in both reality, oftentimes courtesy of the media, and in speculative fiction, thanks to authors in the dystopian and post-apocalyptic genres. This was not always fair, as those in charge of the agency generally had the best of intentions. However, like many federal agencies, they were hugely inefficient and sometimes incapable of responding to a disaster in a timely fashion.

  Usually, when a president barks, the heads of these agencies jump accordingly. Such was the case at FEMA when the president singled out a location in the heart of the Cumberland Mountains for a refugee camp.

  Upper-level personnel moved mountains, pardon the pun, to establish a FEMA camp at the location of a former federal government facility at Martin’s Fork Lake near Three Point, an unincorporated community in Harlan County, Kentucky. Their plan for building out the facility was solid. The logistics of locating and directing refugees to the new FEMA camp made sense. On paper, it appeared that the FEMA administrators would be able to comply with President Houston’s directives and declare it a success.

  However, as was often the case in hastily arranged government plans, something was bound to go awry.

  Across the World Wide Web, blogs and website articles claimed to have the secret map of FEMA camps across the nation. Some of these purported experts referred to these mythical facilities as FEMA concentration camps. The conspiracy theory was so broad and universally accepted that a Wikipedia page was created with the intent to debunk the FEMA camp theory.

  FEMA was charged with the responsibility of helping Americans recover from disasters. They did, in fact, establish refugee camp locations following events like Hurricane Katrina, Superstorm Sandy, and during a recent pandemic scare.

  But the fact of the matter was FEMA could build their camps anywhere they damn well pleased. Who could forget the despair of the refugees in the Louisiana Superdome in New Orleans in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina? To be sure, these refugee facilities were generally located on federal government property, but there was no defined list. FEMA had their pick of the proverbial litter, making any location, from football stadiums to shopping mall parking lots, a potential FEMA camp.

  The federal property at Martin’s Fork Lake in Eastern Kentucky was a former work camp created in the 1930s as part of the Civilian Conservation Corps, or CCC. As part of President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s plan to bring the country out of the throes of the Great Depression, his New Deal established a work relief program for single men under the age of thirty. Over a decade up until the start of World War II, three million young men, and ultimately their immediate families, were provided shelter, clothing, and food in exchange for working on government projects in the region.

  Near Three Point, around Martin’s Fork Lake, one such CCC project, designated Civilian Corps Camp S-53, was established to build the Laden Railroad connecting other parts of the Kentucky-Virginia to the coal-rich mountains of Harlan County. Over the years, the federal property fell into disrepair, but the land was still perfectly suited for temporary tent-housing of refugees.

  The location for the FEMA refugee center, or camp, if you will, in Harlan County could’ve seemed odd to some who studied a map of the Eastern United States. But considering much of the east coast was flooded, any high ground made sense. The difficulty for the government was they didn’t have any FEMA personnel readily available in the area to man the facility. They temporarily brought in some military personnel to secure the location, followed by a small group of officials who’d been evacuated from the FEMA region IV offices in Atlanta. The rest of the new facility’s team consisted of new hires from surrounding Harlan County, Kentucky.

  Bringing in outsiders proved to complicate the job of the government administrators. They were used to shuffling paper, following chains of command, and not making waves. The Harlan County locals weren’t used to structure. In fact, they were accustomed to resisting authority. It resided in their DNA.

  The stubbornness of Harlan Countians dated back many decades and included everything from schoolteacher strikes to miners blocking trains. Civil disobedience throughout the Appalachian Mountains had been prevalent since the activism and rise of unions in the 1930s.

  The FEMA camp in Harlan County, named after its CCC predecessor, was dubbed Camp S-53. It was intended to be a safe haven for those who couldn’t take care of themselves. A place for Americans to take voluntary refuge.

  Yes, it looked good on paper. Once implementation was begun, abuses gained a foothold by the camp’s administrators. Not the ones from Atlanta. They, sadly, gradually disappeared in the middle of the night. But, rather, from the new hires, the locals
, who saw an opportunity to better their prospects of survival.

  Chapter 25

  Pinnacle Overlook Trail

  Cumberland Mountains

  Southeast Kentucky

  The modern pioneers started day two of their exploration of the Cumberland Mountains well rested and full of energy. The day before, they’d made some progress into the dense national forest, whose trails had become overgrown in the weeks since the park service no longer maintained them. As agreed beforehand, they’d limited their outing to ensure they’d return to the Pinnacle Overlook before dark. This morning, they were gently awakened by Sarah before daylight with the smell of fresh coffee and the family’s staple breakfast of oatmeal.

  “I think Isabella and I are going to hike today,” said Chapman as everyone gathered their gear for the day. “The whole time we left the horses tied off near the trail, all I could think about was somebody stealing them or, just as bad, wild animals making a meal out of them.”

  “Hiking up that ridge at the end of the day won’t be easy,” said Carly.

  “We know, but it’s really the safe thing to do.”

  Levi was busy cutting strips of material from Doug Smith’s clothing to be used as trail markers. He also handed out hatchets to everyone. As he did, he suggested how they should approach their day. “Let’s head out together along the Pinnacle Overlook Trail. After yesterday, we know that any potential location is going to be beyond that point. Chapman and Isabella will make their way down the ridge from there until they reach the bottom.”

  “You mean the abyss,” quipped Chapman, referring to the point where the side of the ridge had collapsed into the newly formed river during the earthquake.

  “No doubt,” said Levi with a smile.

  Chapman explained their game plan for the day. “Okay, I kinda look at it as a you take the high road and we’ll take the low road approach. If we work our way along the thrust fault that triggered the quake, we might stumble across farms nestled in the valley. A lot of these places were set way back from the highway. We’ll use the collapsed ridge as our westernmost boundary and work our way northeast from there.”

  “Good idea,” said Levi. “Keep track of your time. You’ll have to follow the sun the best you can so you don’t find yourself stuck out there in the dark.”

  Chapman nodded and turned to Kristi, who, along with Tommy, had loaded up their backpacks and was ready to get started.

  “I guess we’ll be with you guys, right?” she asked Levi.

  He checked Carly’s pack and handed it to her as he replied, “Yeah. You’re gonna be our scouts. Carly and I are gonna push as far up the top of the ridge as we can. When we see a possible location or a spring-fed stream that leads down the mountain, you and Tommy will follow the lead. We’ll continue to move northeast, looking for more options.”

  “This could be a very long, drawn-out process,” said Sarah. She’d purposefully kept the children settled in their sleeping bags so she could converse with the other adults before their big day.

  Kristi was genuinely concerned for their safety while the group was split up. “Mom, are you sure about this? One of us could stay behind.”

  “No, dear, we’ll be fine. Now, if an army of bad guys show up, it’ll be a bloody mess when y’all return. However, the blood won’t be ours.”

  Isabella laughed. “I have only known you for a short time, but I believe you.”

  “They’d better not mess with me,” said Sarah convincingly.

  Kristi rubbed the back of Brooke’s head as she sat quietly by her side. “Okay, I believe you, too. Now, as you know, I’ve been working with Brooke every day, teaching her to become a guard dog, kinda. Using the kids’ books, and the limited sign language she’s been able to learn so far, I think she has a pretty good idea of what represents danger.”

  “How did you do it?” asked Isabella.

  “It wasn’t my preferred approach, but it was all I’ve had to work with. I had to teach the concept of danger to her and what the appropriate reaction was by getting her too close to fire.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Sarah. “Is that what you’ve been doin’ with her when she raises the devil sometimes?”

  “Yes. Of course, I would never let her get hurt, but she had to understand what danger meant. During our trip from the farm, I taught her the sign for danger.” Kristi repeated the sign for danger, reinforcing the importance of the warning.

  She crossed her left arm in front of her chest with her palm faced down as if a knife was being held against her lower throat. Then, with her right hand, she made a thumbs-up gesture and brought it upward from her stomach to her chin as if someone was coming at her with a knife and she was blocking it.

  As she showed the group, Brooke intently watched her. After a moment, she reached up to Kristi and gently touched her arm and then made the okay sign, universally created by touching her thumb to her index finger and then extending the remaining three digits.

  “Yes, Brooke, very good.” Kristi heaped praise on the chimp, drawing a smile and a few hoots.

  Sarah continued her questioning. “So you’ve taught her to identify certain things as dangerous?”

  “Yes. Strangers. Bears, wolves, snakes, etcetera. Using the picture books, I think she’ll know when to sound the alarm.”

  Sarah chuckled and reached out to Brooke, who quickly gave her a hug. If nothing else, the chimp was lovable. “I certainly know what the alarm sounds like.”

  “Mom, she’s never been tested. Well, except for the windstorm. She might create some false alarms.”

  “I can deal with false alarms. It’s the no alarm that can cause us problems.”

  The group assembled at the entrance to the Pinnacle Overlook Trail while Levi and Carly kissed their children goodbye. Minutes later, they were hiking to the top of the ridgeline and basking in the glow of the rising sun.

  Chapter 26

  Cumberland Mountains

  Southeast Kentucky

  To be sure, Chapman and Isabella were on a mission to find a better home for the Boone party, but at the same time, they were enjoying their private time together. Their whirlwind romance had led them into a world full of tragedy and despair, yet through it all, their love for one another grew.

  As they were challenged by the catastrophic changes the planet endured, and their fellow man, they learned a lot about each other. They also learned a lot about themselves. Neither Chapman nor Isabella would consider themselves outdoor types, an oft-used moniker used to label people like Levi, who were comfortable hunting, camping, and hiking.

  Isabella had lived in the heart of Paris, a vibrant city full of history and amenities. Every street corner had a coffee shop filled with the aroma of delicious pastries. On every block were quaint shops and outdoor cafés, where she could enjoy French cuisine while smelling fresh-cut flowers. The nightlife was second to none, especially for a beautiful single woman, although Isabella had preferred to study climate rather than carouse.

  Chapman was a jet-setter, although his way of life didn’t reflect it. He’d travelled all across the globe, bringing unusual weather stories to viewers of The Weather Channel. He’d lived out of suitcases and hung his hat in hotel rooms or, sometimes, in the back of a van. He wasn’t interested in settling down as that term was defined by American norms. Finding a wife, having a couple of kids and a Labrador pup, and living in the suburbs was the last thing Chapman wanted.

  The two had found one another by fate, they’d decided, and it was their destiny to be walking along the collapsed ridgeline in search of a new home in the wilderness.

  The day before, they’d identified a safe path to follow the Pine Mountain Thrust Fault, which had generated the earthquake. As Levi suggested, they marked the entrance to their path near the end of the Pinnacle Overlook Trail before it disappeared into the muddy river below the ridge.

  Levi had instructed them how to mark their trail into the woods using a hatchet and the closest thing they had to trail
ribbon—strips of clothing. At the trailhead, the start of the path, they also built a cairn, a nod to the old-school pioneers who commonly used this form of marker to create an easy-to-recognize symbol of importance.

  Cairns were piles of rocks, usually stacked two to three feet high, just tall enough to see from a distance. Stacking flat-sided rocks from largest to smallest, once constructed, the cairn appeared as a primitive pylon, with one side accented with a pointed rock or twig to identify the direction of the trail.

  Once they ventured into the thicker part of the forest, they used the strips of cloth coupled with blazes, a simple slash in the sides of the trees using their hatchets. These gashes were made at eye level and, coupled with the knocking down of saplings blocking the new trail, they created a prominent marker for them to identify when returning to camp.

  They pushed deeper into the woods, using the newly formed river as their boundary on the left, and periodically splitting off their main path to investigate a potential clearing. These minor trails, called spurs, were marked using cloth strips tied to tree branches, also at eye level. After their investigation off the main trail, if it didn’t pan out, they’d untie the cloth for reuse later.

  For hours, they continued to explore. They talked about the history of the Boone family and the settlement of America as they went. Isabella relayed the stories of the Old Country, as she referred to Europe. In France, there were no stories of pioneers or settlements or interactions with wild Indians. It was a world ruled by kings and monarchies for many centuries before America was even discovered.

  After several hours, they came across a farmhouse that had burned to the ground. Its long winding driveway meandered through the trees until it disappeared into the river. Chapman and Isabella stood at the edge of the road, studying what used to be known as the Clear Fork community. The narrow valley was now covered with a half-mile-wide muddy river that gently flowed toward the southwest where Middlesboro once was.