Rock Fall
Copyright© 2015 by Gina Marie Wylie
Chapter 6: The Bishop Makes Knightly Move
After dinner they cleaned up together. Later a dozen people gathered in the main room of the house. There was Chris and the girls, Joanna and Mike, Bishop Flake and two women, Keith Fields and two other men, one of them the current UMW local’s shop foreman.
Chris stood after everyone had gotten something to drink and he waved a tea glass. “Everyone ready? Everyone has something to drink?”
Everyone agreed that they were ready.
“I’ll make a short windup for the pitch that follows. The government is not telling the truth about what is going to happen when the Rock hits. Partly that’s because in truth no one knows exactly what’s going to happen. But that’s the kicker. They pretty much know what’s going to happen. They can’t say, ‘It will rain for forty days and forty nights afterwards’ or ‘The tidal wave that will hit Honolulu will be seventeen feet high and people have to evacuate.’ They have no idea how long it’s going to rain, where it’s going to rain or what the tidal waves will actually be like. Yes, it’s possible that they will be no big deal. But the fact is they are as likely to be twenty feet as two feet.
“It’s as likely to rain forty days and nights as it is likely it will snow for a month. There’s just no way to be sure. But, that being said, there will be significant effects, at least locally, and if things are the worst case, nothing is being done to prepare us. It’s all well and good to say, ‘Probably nothing bad is going to happen’ — that’s certainly possible. But it’s certainly possible that it won’t be. Prudence says ‘Prepare for the worst and hope for the best.’”
“Amen,” Bishop Flake said softly.
“Some things we do know for a certainty. Every ship in the Pacific Ocean is headed elsewhere, probably the North Atlantic. Ships aren’t that fast, but most have plenty of time to get clear. But, once clear, they have to turn around and go back. Ocean shipping schedules are going to be disrupted for a couple of months, at a minimum.
“There will be tidal waves. Some ports, particularly the south-facing Pacific Rim ports, are going to take a lot of damage. That too will slow the logistics. I’m not enough of an expert on those things, but that disruption has the potential of causing a lot of damage in and of itself.
“The Rock hits in early December. A couple of hundred years ago, a volcano called Tamboura erupted in Indonesia in the spring. Not that year, but the next, was called ‘The year without a summer.’
“The Rock isn’t a volcano. What’s going to happen is going to happen on a much shorter time scale. At the instant of impact there will be a huge crater formed — tens of miles wide, and twenty or twenty-five miles deep. It is going to land in deep water — but not that deep compared to the size of the crater. Four, five, or six hundred cubic miles of debris is going to come flying out. A tiny fraction of it will be going fast enough to escape the Earth’s gravity; half will stay in the crater. The rest is going to come down — here, there, everywhere. Dust from the Tamboura eruption took months to spread around the world. The Rock’s debris will take less than ninety minutes.”
“So quick?” Keith asked. “Are you sure?”
“You can’t fool Mother Nature. And you can’t cheat on physics. It takes a satellite in low Earth orbit about ninety minutes to go around once. Some of the debris will be in Earth orbit, and will come down over the next few months. Most won’t be going fast enough to go around even once, and will be coming down in less time that it takes to go around: ninety minutes.
“Back at the crater there will be couple of hundred cubic miles of melted rock, hotter than lava ever gets. Five or six thousand degrees — at that temperature I don’t think it’s important, except to the scientists, if it’s Fahrenheit or Centigrade. The impact will generate a lot of steam. Rock that hot will be sending off steam for months. That’s all water going into the atmosphere, and we all know that what goes up, comes down. Once again, more dust. There will be mind-blowing steam explosions for weeks and maybe months.
“The source of those explosions will be water hitting molten rock. That rock is going to be reduced to the finest powder imaginable — powder so fine that a sneeze could loft it into the stratosphere. The thing is, those steam explosions won’t be sneezes.
“Hundreds of cubic miles of water converted to steam sounds like a lot — but spread it out evenly over the entire Earth and it’s just a few hundredths of an inch. Except, as you have undoubtedly noticed, rain doesn’t fall all that evenly — some places will see hardly any and other places it will seem like the Second Flood.
“The weather effects will start, I think, almost at once, and will probably peak in the late spring and early summer. Planting season. There aren’t going to be many crops planted next year and fewer still harvested. People are going to go hungry.
“In the best of all possible worlds, people would put their shoulders to the push cart and push it up the hill. I don’t think we live in the best of all possible worlds anymore. Remember the crummy weather is going to be worldwide. What is Chile going to do if their crops fail and Argentina has a normal harvest? Chile is going to take the brunt of the tidal waves in South America, and Argentina hardly any at all. Play this out around the world in such unstable regions as Africa, the Middle East, the Far East...
“And that’s those people. Just how happy are the people in Watts, California, the Southside of Chicago, Harlem, New York or the city of Detroit — the ghettos everywhere — going to be going to bed hungry? Particularly if there are some crops in the San Joaquin? In the Midwest?”
The shop foreman stood up. “Be right back!” and hastily headed for the bathroom. He was gone for five uncomfortable minutes as everyone contemplated what they’d heard.
Chris started back up when Dwayne returned. “Okay, the government is going to let us down. Like that’s news!” There was some laughter, but not much. It was gallows humor. “Just because they aren’t going to prepare for Rock Fall, doesn’t mean we have to sit here like bumps on a log, waiting for it to happen.
“We make no bones about it, we’re getting ready up here. We are laying in supplies, and making long term preparations.” Chris nodded at Bishop Flake. “We have talked with Bishop Flake and have agreed to make common cause with his stake.”
He stopped for a moment, a sardonic grin on his face. “Mike had a phrase he’s used a time of two on me, and now I’ve used it on him. ‘What do you mean ‘we’, kemo sabe?’
“We are Chris Gutterman, not Wallace any more, and Amy, Sydney, Lisa and Brenda. I have a lot of financial and other resources, the four young woman have astounding brains. We need all the gray matter we can bring to this.
“You can check with my lawyer in town and with Judge Kaufman; I’ve been legally emancipated for months now. The four young women are in various stages of the process. We do want to hear other people’s opinions, but the five of us are going to decide for those of us on the mountain. Adjust to that, adapt to that — or leave. It’s as simple as that.
“I’ve spent millions of dollars in the last few days. I’ll be honest — I’m betting that along about February or March that money won’t buy anything and I’d better make use of it now.
“Some of you have heard rumors — and I’m pretty sure you didn’t hear them from me or from my four friends. Bishop Flake wants to move his people up here, away from Mayor Jimmy and the sheriff. He wanted to move thirty families up here, but we thought about it and decided that if we were going to offer to help the bishop’s congregation, we owed it to the old mining families to offer them help as well.
“Obviously we can’t help everyone but we can prepare for as many as possible.
“The first order of business is the preparation for the mobile home pads. It snows up here in the best of years, and this isn’t likely to be the best of years. Thus, we need to dig two trenches to lay the utilities, each a quarter mile long, six feet deep and three feet wide.
“I remember one interesting photo in my grandmother’s papers — it was a sort of shantytown built in San Francisco for refugees from the 1906 earthquake. They built simple redwood cabins and packed them right next to each other. The one thing I remember was that they were 720 square feet each. The mobiles I ordered are 12 by 60 for the one-bedroom mobiles, 12 x 70 for the two bedroom homes and some 12 x 80’s. Seven hundred and twenty square feet up to nine hundred and sixty square feet. Our ‘shanties’ will be a little further apart is all and have better utilities.
“One last thing. This is a real project, for real people — you. Your family, your friends and neighbors if you want to ride this out here. I’ve heard rumors that we found the Vein that my Great Grandfather Barnaby ‘lost.’ I swear to you, each and every one of you, that this project is about providing people what I said — their utilities, buried six feet down where it will have to get very cold indeed to freeze the pipes.
“That said I want you to do your best to quell rumors. I hired the four young women to do a particular job. I thought it would take a couple of weeks. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they had taken a couple of days. They took a couple of hours.
“They’ve taken crap from their peers and some adults in town over the years. A lot of it. I was mostly immune — but they weren’t. They don’t have the highest opinion of many of the townsfolk.
“But, like I said, I gave them a job and they did it.”
Chris waved to Mike. “If you would, Mike, go over to Great Grandfather Barnaby’s desk and carefully pull out the chair. It’s on castors and it can be moved easily. Push it over here. Be careful!”
Mike Vanna shrugged and went to the desk. He was careful and a moment later he moved the chair next to where Chris was standing. The chair held a rock about two feet long and a foot in width and height sitting in the seat, resting on a blanket.
Chris nodded his thanks. “They worked on a program to improve our seismic probes of the mountain. We all know that the old data methods showed dense areas that weren’t there and missed dense areas that were. They found a number of dense areas. There was one close to a tunnel and I spent the night digging this out. In the vernacular, it’s called a ‘nugget.’”
Keith crossed himself, and the union guy was nearly drooling. “It weighs not quite three hundred pounds. Sydney helped me bring it in this morning, because like me, she’s having trouble sleeping of late. I ran a quick volume test before school. Obviously there is a lot of crap mixed with the nugget. Still, like the nugget Great Grandfather Barnaby carried around on his watch fob, it’s a mite heavy. I estimate there is something on the order of a hundred pounds of gold in the nugget, 1600 ounces, or roughly two and a half million dollars at current market prices. I don’t think I’d get market for it, because odds are a museum or a collector might pay a premium above market.”
The hush in the room was awesome.
“This dense pocket was denser than most and easier by far to reach than anything else. Again, you miners know: what shows up on these surveys is an indication, not a sure thing. Most dense areas we saw weren’t this dense, however like I said; there were a lot indications.
“Amy, Brenda, Sydney and Lisa have found us all a possible lifeline. Moreover, other mines could use this program and who knows what they could find? We’ve all heard stories of a shaft missing a vein by just a foot...
“The people of Pine Valley need to learn a new way of thinking. People like those four, and myself, have things we know or can learn that will be of inestimable value to their survival. We’re certainly not going to ask people to kowtow to us, or kiss our asses or any of that. What we want is a little slack. For the jokes and worse to stop.”
Sydney spoke suddenly. “I recommend Atlas Shrugged to everyone who hasn’t read it. You don’t want to think about what is possible if we go ‘John Galt.’”
“You’re saying that you haven’t ‘located’ a new vein — but it’s because you haven’t checked your work?” Mike asked.
“Got it in one,” Lisa said. “Look, we live here. Our families live in Pine Valley. A lot of people who live here have made our lives less than pleasant. Only a few have helped. The four of us have heard gossip about us since we started school — some of it is funny, more is foolish and all of it hurtful.
“We ignored Chris for years — that was clearly a mistake. And when we realized that mistake we quickly abstracted that we might be making a mistake writing everyone else off. He brought us face-to-face with the world. It’s been a real trip, let me tell you. But it’s fragile. Not one of the four of us have any trust in any of you, like Chris does for the least of you. All we ask is to be left alone.”
“And that’s not going to be in the cards,” Chris told her. “We are going to help the people of Pine Valley. Yeah, they’ve screwed up ... well, I’ve screwed up. So have you individually and as a group. We have resources; we have people, smart people, stupid people and everyone in between. None of them deserve what’s going to happen — but it’s going to happen to all of us.
“We live in a great nation. We never got to the stars, but, by God, we got to the moon! A great first step! We can’t let it go because some stupid politicians two thousand miles away are making bad judgments. We have the basis here to rebuild after this — so long as we keep it together. We have the people, the skills, the knowledge, the resources and above all the will. We may not succeed, but it’s not going to be because we didn’t try!”
He stopped then, emotionally spent. After a few seconds he looked at Keith. “Call the men we’re going to need to dig these trenches back to work. Tell them I’ll pay the usual rates if they want, but I’ll pay a hundred pound sack of rice, fifty pounds of flour and a couple of other items as well, once I have a better idea of what I’ve actually have on hand, per week.
“Bishop Flake, we’re going to need people to lay the concrete for the pads, run the dozers and what all. Half of what the powdermen make in cash, or goods. Both of you I trust not to pad the payroll.”
Bishop Flake nodded. “There was the problem about fuel for stoves, Mr. Gutterman.”
“Solved. Look around you; specifically, look above you at the ceiling joists.”
“Fourteen by fourteen Doug fir,” Keith said.
“I said it before. I’ve read Great Grandfather Barnaby’s journals, including the parts about building this house. The first time I kind of skimmed that part, the second time I was fascinated by the planning he put into everything he did — I used it as a case study of the importance of planning.
“Gutterman Mountain has no forests — but there is a large patch of trees about two and half miles from here, at the top of the canyon.”
“Good grief, Chris!” Keith exclaimed. “That canyon is a death trap! In the old days it was named ‘Widowmaker Canyon’ for all the widows it created. It’s steep; it’s narrow and cuts through the granite. Water pours through it in deluges!”
Chris smiled thinly. “That canyon is how Barnaby found the mine. No one wanted to get near it. I found the trees on my own when I was thirteen. I had no idea there were trees like that around. I was following a ledge around the mountain from the house. After a while I realized that the ‘ledge’ was actually an old road.
“There is about four hundred acres of trees, about a hundred feet below the level of the house. It’s a long skinny canyon, and yes, you don’t want to stand in the streambed if it starts to rain. But the streambed is a few hundred feet from the canyon rim. You can get out of there quickly if it starts to rain in the upper reaches, where the trees are.
“My grandfather cut the Douglas fir used in this house there. He didn’t try to go up the canyon; he cut a road to the top, and then ran a dragline down to the trees. At first he had horses pulling the trees up to a sawmill he built level with the house.
“After a few weeks, he realized that the donkey engine powering the saw sat idle while more logs were pulled up. They thought differently back then. It took a couple of days and then when the donkey engine wasn’t turning the saw, it was pulling the logs up the hill, a lot faster and easier than horse teams could manage ... and that donkey didn’t get tired.
“There were only about two hundred suitable fir trees and they cut them all. My grandfather was there when they cut the last one. Say what you will about how hard a man he was, but he looked at the hill and decided that they could plant seedlings to replace the trees cut. He went to a forestry expert in California and had two thousand fir seedlings shipped in, and then they planted them. Like I said, my grandfather wasn’t stupid. He shipped in a lot seedlings of other sorts of trees — oaks, hickory, ash, aspen and a dozen more.
“When I was there a couple of years ago, there were some trees I didn’t recognize, but most of them were still ponderosa pine, the dominant species in my great grandfather’s time, but there were a lot of fir trees, plus some hemlocks ... even a few oaks. The trees are second growth, but they have had more than a century to grow. There are some large trees there, and there is about four hundred acres of them.
“This is an emergency; I’m not an eco-nut who will sacrifice people before trees. I will cheerfully cut them all down, every last one, to keep people up here warm. There are more trees closer to Pine Valley, and I expect that when faced with a choice of freezing to death or cutting those trees, they are up for the chop too. So yes, there is going to be fuel for those stoves, and it’s not going to be hard to reach.”
“They are green wood,” Mike reminded Chris.
“About six years ago we had a freak storm up here,” Chris said. “The meteorologists spoke of ‘microbursts’ and such like. One of the things I saw when I walked through those trees was about a third of them had been knocked down in that storm. There are hundreds of cords of wood there, laying on the ground in a great huge tangle for the last six years. For a tree, that’s an eye blink. That wood has just been seasoning.
“Still, I kid you not. We are going to need some experienced people down there to supervise — those trees were knocked down like jackstraws — it’s a huge tangle. No one in their right mind would be comfortable with treating those logs with contempt. But if we’re patient, if we’re careful, it’ll be a slam dunk. Who here hasn’t played pick-up-sticks as a kid?”
There were smiles and the conversation became a frank discussion of the problems and possible solutions. When people went to leave, Bishop Flake spoke privately to Chris.
“Mr. Gutterman, it is a tenet of my faith that there are some people who are particularly blessed. Even in secular society people recognize that there are those who have ‘vision’ or are ‘lucky.’ Vision is impossible to really define accurately — suffice to say that they have a plan of how to do things and they induce others to help bring that plan to fruition. In faith, that’s called ‘revelation.’
“Everyone, though, knows luck.”
“I have a plan,” Chris told him. “I haven’t been shy about telling people about some of it, but I’m not sure it qualifies as a revelation.”
The bishop audibly sniffed. “The name we call things isn’t as important as what that thing is. You have a plan; we need to talk a much greater length in the days to come about the details. You should talk to as many people as can be reasonably dealt with. A plan — or revelation — is meaningless if it isn’t shared. And even the most unexpected sources can offer meaningful improvements.”
“As I said, I’ve not been shy about talking about it with my friends and a very few others.”
“And that is a good thing, for the most part. The secular authorities, both local and other, aren’t going to be happy with your plans. Almost certainly your vision is different than theirs. You will need to take precautions proactively.”
“Again, I have ideas along that line.”
The bishop studied Chris for a moment. Amy and Sydney moved close to see what was happening.
The bishop chuckled then. “You don’t trust me, but that’s as it should be. No one has talked to me about your ‘ideas along that line.’ Still, I fear that the statists may act preemptively, on their schedule, not yours.”
Amy grinned sardonically. “Did you see the movie Armageddon?”
“Indeed.”
“People wouldn’t think early strikes by smaller rocks to be that remarkable — even though I’m fairly sure that associated debris that could punch through the atmosphere would already be visible.”
He held up a hand. “I truly do not want to know what your plans are. I just want to make sure that the possibility is given due consideration.”
“I have considered it at length,” Chris told him. “Now, I’ll go back and reconsider.”
Sydney spoke up. “And you would see that we had advance warning of any plans like that being mooted about by the secular authorities?”
“As fast as the word can fly up here.”
“Tomorrow,” Amy told him, “you and I will spend some time together. Sydney already told me about how careful you and your flock are on the phone. I have some new words for you.”
The bishop nodded. “Again, it is as it should be. My daughter talked to me privately earlier. It has been too long since the two of us trusted each other. It’s not the easiest thing getting past the barriers of stupidity that each of us erected. My flock is not talking about this at all, particularly on the phone. Not even that we are going to relocate, much less where. Some of them will be hired to work construction, but this is not the first time.”
He held out his hand and Chris shook it. Then he shook hands with Sydney and then Amy, before disappearing into the night.
Chris was surprised that it was Sydney who came that night. She was nervous and shy, but not reluctant. Like Amy and Brenda, she found that what Chris had to offer, while not the same as what Lisa offered, was as satisfying.
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