Helen’s Place – A Vignette
Wendy literally jumped up and down and clapped her hands. The news was terrific. BP had capped the well and shut off the flow of oil in the Gulf of Mexico. She turned to her best friend in the entire world, Helen Kingston and said, “See! I told you they would do it! Nuke nothing! Things are going to be all right!”
“Um-hm,” murmured Helen. She wasn’t so sure, she thought. And then said so. “I don’t know Wendy. I think it is great news. But until that well they are drilling to tap the first one is successful I’m not going to hold my breath. We may just be seeing the end of the first phase of this disaster.”
“Don’t be a spoil sport,” Wendy replied. “This is great news!”
“I know. But still…”
“I’m going to go down there and help with the clean up, now that fresh oil isn’t being ejected,” Wendy said, her eyes on the television.
“Oh, Wendy! Don’t do that! I know your heart is in the right place, but I told you about the workers that were involved with the Valdez clean up.”
“Coincidence. That’s all that is. I’m sure I’ll be all right. Thousands of people are working down there and nothing is happening to them.”
Helen frowned. She wasn’t so sure of that statement. There’d been on and off news blackouts about several things. She had a feeling the health of the cleanup crews might very well be one of them.
Two days later, unable to convince Wendy not to go, Helen was in the passenger seat of Wendy’s hybrid, on the way to the Gulf Coast with her friend. Helen just couldn’t bring herself to let Wendy go alone. The perceived dangers were just too great, in Helen’s mind, and Wendy had a tendency to ignore such things in her enthusiasm.
It would be nice to get away from the bookstore she owned and operated for a while, though this trip wasn’t her first choice. Paul and Sue had both been on her to get away for a while, more to prove that they were capable of handling the store than for her relaxation. But this would be a good test of their abilities.
The trip went well, and both women arrived at the volunteer center rested and ready to go to work. Or so Wendy thought. There would be no work done by volunteers without some training first. Helen breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the boxes of Tyvek suits, rubber gloves, boots, safety glasses, and face masks that were stacked up around the edge of the training room. She’d brought similar materials herself, for her and Wendy, but the things could get expensive and she was glad to not have the expense of replacing hers after Wendy was satisfied she’d done enough.
Helen sat quietly through the training, while Wendy seemed to hang onto every word the instructors were giving. An hour after their arrival, Wendy was leading Helen down to the beach to begin the cleanup. Wendy seemed almost disappointed that there wasn’t any oil on the beach. They would be cleaning the beach of everything except the sand that oil could adhere to and be a problem to decontaminate.
At least that was the first thing they did. For two days of hot, laborious work. Helen did make sure Wendy wore the wide brimmed hat she’d brought for her, and sunglasses beneath the safety goggles. She was also careful to see that Wendy drank plenty of water, too.
On the third day things changed. They were bused, along with twenty others, to a beach that was already getting inundated with an oil slick stretching far out to sea.
There were strict rules about handling wildlife coated with oil, and reluctantly Wendy left that task to those with the special training needed. Picking up tar balls, driftwood slimy with oil, and all the other detritus coming in with the oil was not very glamorous. It was hot, tiring, and even smelly work, despite the face masks. They weren’t respirators, merely dust masks and the fumes from the oil were beginning to bother more than one of the volunteers.
Wendy was one of the first affected and Helen pulled her off the line, taking her to the nearest aid station set up to handle the minor problems that always occur during such situations.
“I’ll be okay,” Wendy insisted, after a long coughing spell. “I need to get back out there…”
“No,” Helen said.
“You can work in one of the areas without the oil…” said the first-aid attendant.
“No,” Helen said again. “She’s going to go far away from the beach and the oil and clear her lungs thoroughly.”
“But Helen!” cried Wendy. But she couldn’t continue as another coughing spasm had her nearly doubled over.
“We really need volunteers…” said the attendant. Helen glared at her and she fell silent.
“We’re leaving,” Helen said, taking Wendy’s arm when she was able to breathe all right again.
Wendy didn’t protest again. At least, not until they got to the motel room and she saw a news report of the continuing encroachment of the oil onto the nearby beaches. “We have to go back out there!” she insisted.
But Helen insisted just as adamantly that they weren’t going out. “Especially with that storm system coming in.”
The oil wasn’t the only story. A strong storm front was moving through the area. To Wendy that meant it would be cooler and she would be able to breathe better.
“No, Wendy. Now listen to me. This isn’t some simple one week project everyone is facing. And, I suspect, the dangers are much higher than is being admitted to, or even understood. That is raw crude oil out there. It’s a hazardous material to humans. Respirators would help, but there are still risks in handling that stuff.”
“But I want to help!” Wendy said. She was about to cry. There was another shot of oil coated birds and other animals being rescued.
“I know,” Helen said softly, taking her friend’s hands in hers. “But you can’t risk your health. I never should have let you come down here in the first place.”
“It isn’t your place to say what I can and can’t do, Helen,” Wendy said, quite firmly.
“No, it’s not,” replied Helen, stung a little. “But it is my place to advise you based on the best information I have available. And that information is saying that it isn’t safe out there. Not for those like you that want to help so badly that they don’t analyze the risks.”
“I just don’t see it that way…” Wendy’s eyes suddenly widened at what she saw on the television and she fell silent. Helen whirled around to see what had startled Wendy.
“It’s terrible!” came the voice of the newscaster. “There are flames everywhere! People are screaming! Being burned alive!” The live camera was showing sheets of flame coming off the oil, both on land and out in the water.
The newscaster, sounding physically ill continued. “I saw the lightening flash and heard the thunder and then the oil was on fire! We’ve got to get out of here! The wind is pushing…” There was a loud scream and the screen went white. Then the screen suddenly went black, but a few seconds later the newscasters in the studio were being shown.
Both were pale and could barely control their emotions. “It seems that…”
“Turn it off! Please! I don’t want to see anymore,” Wendy begged.
Helen quickly turned off the television and then went to sit beside Wendy. She threw an arm around her and hugged her to her chest. “It’s okay,” she said soothingly as Wendy cried.
After a few moments Wendy sat back and wiped the tears from her eyes. “You saved my life! If we’d still been there… Those screams would have been coming from us.”
Wendy’s eyes were wide as she stared at Helen. “You were right. It was much more dangerous than they said.”
“Yeah. Well, I don’t think we’re going to be doing any good down here now until the authorities decide how to handle these new found dangers. I think we should go back home before something else happens.”
“What else could happen? Maybe we should stay and help… They’ll need help with…” Wendy saw the stern look on Helen’s face and closed her mouth.
“Wendy, I would like to help. Just like you. I really would. But this work, especially now, is for the specialist with the training and equipment to deal with it. Let’s pack up and go home.”
Finally Wendy nodded and said, “Okay. Maybe it’s for the best. My throat and nose are really burning.”
“Well, if it doesn’t get any worse on the trip we’ll just get you in to see Dr. Syncrest. But if it gets worse, I’m taking you to an emergency room.”
Wendy responded by getting up and beginning to pack her suitcase. They were back on the road in less than an hour. Helen was driving and they didn’t stop until well away from the coast, and then only because both needed to go to the bathroom, fuel the SUV, and get something to eat.
Wendy was able to eat a little, though Helen wasn’t sure she would, at first. But after the sandwich and then an ice cream cone, she seemed to be a lot better. They got back into the hybrid and headed home, Helen driving again.
When they did arrive home late the next day, Wendy managed to talk Helen out of getting Dr. Syncrest out to the hospital to look at her. They’d wait until the following day and see her at the doctor’s offices, but Helen was adamant that Wendy see the doctor about her exposure to the crude oil fumes.
They were in the Dr. Syncrest’s waiting room, watching the news the next morning after breakfast when it happened. The news helicopters were circling the area in the Gulf where the work on drilling the relief well was going on, along with the continuing cleanup of the oil still all over the area.
Suddenly the surface of the Gulf heaved upward, and then a huge hole appeared in the water. The drilling rigs, the tankers, support boats… everything simply dropped into the cavity, and then went out of sight as water rushed back into the void. A few seconds later the helicopters circling the area began to go down, one after the other. Finally the feed from the station’s helicopter failed, as it showed the rapidly approaching water as it fell, the engines dead.
“What happened?” asked Wendy. “They just… disappeared.” She looked at Helen wonderingly.
“Methane gas bubble… Oh! This could be bad! Really bad! We need to get home.”
“But Dr. Syncrest. You said you wanted me to see her.”
“And here I am,” said the doctor, coming over to where Wendy and Helen were now standing, their eyes on the still blank television screen. “What’s going on?”
“A methane bubble, I think,” Helen said. “A big one. At the point when the feed stopped, there hadn’t been an explosion, but…”
All three looked at the television again when a picture returned. The newscaster was barely able to speak. “We have reason to believe that a massive methane gas bubble has erupted from the bottom of the Gulf at the site of the Deepwater Horizon disaster. Our experts are saying… Well, here is…” The picture went blank again for long seconds.
It was a different news room this time. The Atlanta, Georgia studios. “This is unthinkable! It couldn’t have…” Suddenly realizing he was on camera, the newscaster quickly composed himself and looked directly into the camera. “From the reports we are getting,” he said, “a massive methane hydrate release has occurred at the site of the Deepwater Horizon. And apparently it has melted enough to provide enough gas to cause an explosion of unheard of magnitude in the Gulf. Methane, when mixed with air in a ratio of 5% to 15% methane to 95% to 85% air becomes explosive.”
The man looked startled and grabbed the news desk as the picture shook violently. The shaking in the studio was still going on when the medical building Wendy, Helen, and Dr. Syncrest were standing in shook for several seconds.
Wendy was wide eyed. Dr. Syncrest looked more than a bit surprised. Only Helen seemed to understand the connection. “It’s the blast! It must have been huge. Dr. Syncrest, if you don’t have preparations for a disaster made at your home, I suggest you grab everything medical you can carry and come with Wendy and I. I have a shelter at home that should protect us from the aftermath of this.”
“But that happened in the Gulf!” the Doctor said. “Surely…” The building shook again, this time more violently.
“I’ll be right behind you,” the doctor said then. “Give me just a few minutes to gather some things.”
Wendy was looking at the television again. The camera was still on, and the transmitter was still transmitting, but picture was sideways and there was total pandemonium in the studio. Seconds later the picture went off, and then the power in the office went off.
Helen didn’t even try the elevator. She guided Wendy and the doctor toward the stairs, grabbing one of the huge bags that Dr. Syncrest was carrying. The parking garage was still intact, though there was a great deal of concrete dust in the air and on the vehicles, and not a few chunks of concrete lying here and there.
Helen tossed the bag she was carrying into the back of the hybrid, and then, without asking Wendy, got behind the wheel as Wendy and the doctor added the other bags to the back and then took seats inside.
Driving carefully, but with all intentions of getting out of the parking garage before anymore shocks could bring it down on them, Helen headed for Wendy’s apartment building.
“Okay,” Dr. Syncrest said, “I know this is probably bad. But just exactly are we in such a hurry?”
“Something like the methane hydrate release could escalate. There are a lot of deposits. Each one that releases, whether it explodes or not, is going to have a cascading effect. If it happens. It might not, but I’m not taking a chance.
“Some of the releases might not explode immediately. They could spread a very long ways before the ratio of methane to air is at an explosive point. Then anything could ignite it. That’s just the immediate effects, which, I admit, are fairly local. I’m more worried about the long term effects of that much methane entering the atmosphere.
“If there are more releases, and they drift inland, it is going to be hard to breathe. I have a supplemental oxygen system for my shelter, with CO2 scrubbers. With just the three of us, we can last for a couple of weeks buttoned up, if need be. I don’t think we’ll need to, but we can if necessary.”
The other two women were silent. Helen’s words had them not only speechless, but frightened.
“Okay Wendy,” Helen said when she came to a stop in front of Wendy’s apartment building. “We’re here. You get everything you think you might need for a couple of months…
“A couple of months!” both women exclaimed.
“At least. Everything of real importance. Get it ready. I’m going to take Dr. Syncrest to her place to do the same.”
“You’re scaring me, Helen,” Wendy said when she got out of the SUV.
“Good,” Helen replied. “It’ll keep you focused. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”
“I’m not so sure I should be doing this,” Dr. Syncrest told Helen after giving her directions to her home. “I feel like I’m abandoning my patients.”
“If nothing happens, which is what I really hope, then you’ll be back in your offices in a matter of days. But if something serious does happen, you aren’t going to be of much use if you’re injured or killed in the early stages. There are people that can’t be helped, no matter what. I think you should protect yourself so you can do the most good in the aftermath, if there is one.”
Dr. Syncrest looked thoughtful as they continued toward her house in silence. Helen skillfully avoided a couple of accidents, caused by the explosions’ blast waves.
“How much can I bring?” Dr. Syncrest asked when Helen pulled into the driveway of the large house.
“Anything that will fit in or on the hybrid,” Helen replied. “With enough room for Wendy and her things. I doubt she’ll bring more than a couple of suitcases. She isn’t convinced there is anything really serious yet.”
“Okay. Come on in. I’ll get started packing.”
“That’s okay. I want to stay out here and listen to the radio. You can work faster without me being there.”
Dr. Syncrest nodded and hurried toward the front door of the house. It was nearly a half an hour later when she came out with a handcart loaded with totes. Helen quickly climbed out of the hybrid SUV and hurried over to help the doctor get the things loaded into the vehicle.
It took two more trips, with the last load going on top of the SUV, before Dr. Syncrest locked the door of the house and got back into the passenger seat.
“What’s been going on?” she asked Helen.
“Nothing good,” Helen replied. “What reports there are, are pretty sketchy. Only there have been several big explosions over the Gulf waters, as well as some on land in at least three places. There are fires burning all over the place.
“Other places people are just falling over dead, apparently from asphyxiation from high concentrations of methane drifting ashore.”
“So it is real,” Dr. Syncrest said softly.
“I’m afraid so.”
Wendy was sitting on one of her suitcases in front of the apartment house when Helen pulled up. Sure enough, Wendy had only two suitcases, plus her computer case and huge purse she carried when shopping.
With the cases in the rear seat, Wendy got in beside them and Helen headed toward her place outside the city. Where the lack of response from others amazed Helen, it caused Wendy and Dr. Syncrest to doubt the need for the hurried preparations.
But when another blast wave nearly knocked the three down as they transferred items from the hybrid to Helen’s front porch, all doubts left the two women’s minds. There was a real disaster going on, even if they didn’t understand it completely.
With everything unloaded, and inside the house, Helen turned on the satellite television to see if there was a signal. There was, and she quickly switched to the Weather Channel. There was nothing on the screen. Helen tried Fox News next. They were on the air and the activity in the Gulf was the lead story.
The entire Gulf Coast, for miles inland was a burned wasteland. Further inland the effects of the massive blasts looked like scenes from nuclear war movies. Destruction everywhere the cameras pointed. Though there were no cameras left to show it, more oil gushed into the Gulf from the now cracked sea floor.
And it wasn’t over. Despite the losses of personnel and equipment that had already occurred, there were news helicopters flying over the devastation. For a while. Two of those helicopters furnishing feeds to Fox News showed a huge wall of flame approaching them, taking out three other aircraft in the path before the picture went black when the blast reached them.
“I don’t want to watch anymore, Wendy said softly. She was pale and looked like she was about to throw up.
“It’s terrible!” Dr. Syncrest. Maybe I should be out there, helping with the injuries…”
Helen just looked at her. Dr. Syncrest looked away and didn’t speak again for several minutes.
Helen turned off the television and then set about getting the other two women’s things moved down to the basement. The basement was very secure and safe against most disasters, but Helen also had an underground shelter behind the house with a connection to the basement. They would take up residence there if things became bad enough to justify it.
For three days the three women stayed close to the house, watching the news coverage of the disaster. And the skies. The sky was dark, filled with smoke from the many fires started by the explosions over the entire Gulf Coast and inland many miles. The burning oil floating on the surface of the Gulf was pouring more smoke into the skies.
On the fourth day, Dr. Syncrest said, “I have to get back to work. The situation seems to be over. They’re putting out the fires and no more explosions have occurred.”
“I understand,” Helen said. She was feeling the same pull to get back to work.
Wendy didn’t need to go to work. She lived her on her moderate inheritance, doing charity work. But she, too, wanted to get back to her normal routine. She’d been scared enough not to even think about going to help around the zone of destruction around the Gulf, but she had plenty of other local charities to help with, plus a couple new ones that were helping the survivors of the methane hydrate disaster.
So the three went back to their normal lives, a little more aware of the things going on around them. And things that were happening.
There was nothing that could be done about the oil in the Gulf. There were simply no tools in the human toolbox that could seal the bottom of the Gulf. So oil continued to come to the surface of the Gulf, and would, until the pressure was released enough to stop on its own. The Gulf Coast was essentially written off until a massive effort could be made to start the clean up and recovery. For the moment, the money simply wasn’t available
But the skies cleared and sunshine poured down. New records of high temperatures were being set around the world in the Northern Hemisphere. Those believing in global warming were having a heyday. There were pictures of glaciers pouring millions of gallons of fresh melt water into the northern oceans.
The oceans, as massive as they were, began to heat up to temperatures not known for millennia, especially off the coastal shelves. Where massive amounts of methane hydrate were trapped.
But not for long. As the temperatures continued to rise, and then not drop much as winter came and went, bubbles began to appear on the surface of the oceans. Not a huge release the way the incident in the Gulf had occurred, but a little here and a little there, pouring more and more methane into the atmosphere. As a primary ‘greenhouse gas’, it contributed to even more warming.
The records set the summer before were shattered, with much higher records set. The death toll from the heat was tremendous. More and more methane hydrate surfaced. And the hotter it became.
For two years, things continued the same way, each year a bit worse than the last. Small wars were being fought over water rights. Cap and Trade was the new boondoggle with accusations and counter accusations that this company or country was cheating, disadvantaging some other country.
But that all changed on August 30 of that second year. Methane was pouring into the atmosphere by the ton, all around the world’s coastal regions. And the same warm waters that were releasing methane were spawning hurricanes right and left. Tropical Storm Giselle became Hurricane Giselle on the 30th of August. All it took was one sudden massive release beneath Giselle to incorporate enough methane into the hurricane to create a huge fuel/air explosion that dwarfed all that came before it.
The blast simply destroyed the storm as an organized weather event. The small amount of rebuilding that had taken place on the outer edges of the zone of destruction was flattened, and more destroyed even further inland.
The blast touched other pockets of methane and triggered them. Coastlines around the world went up in flames. And smoke poured into the atmosphere.
The Gulf Stream, heavy with the warm waters of the Gulf and Mid-Atlantic, finally succumbed to the lighter fresh water coming from the northern waters and sank beneath them.
This time the skies didn’t clear after a short period of time. There was just too much material burning. And every time a cloud of methane from the continuing releases drifted into one of the fires, there was another explosion that kept the fires burning and created more.
Methane is odorless and colorless. People were falling over dead when the invisible clouds drifted into populated areas. There simply were not enough sensors available to detect the gas on a timely basis to warn people when a cloud of methane was drifting their way.
And even if there had been, there weren’t enough of the small self-contained breathing kits that were in mass production being delivered to make any real difference. Only someone already prepared for the situation had much of a chance if they were within a hundred miles of a seacoast.
The day after Giselle became an air/fuel bomb, Wendy and Dr. Syncrest both showed up on Helen’s doorstep. Telephone service, including cellular, was out. So were most of the city services, including power, water, and sewer.
Helen had given her employees the day off to make whatever arrangements they wanted to cope with the situation. Both simply gave notice and headed further inland. So Helen locked up the bookstore, went home, and found the two women waiting, looking more than a bit afraid that the methane could get them before Helen got home.
Helen had a methane gas detector clipped to her jacket, and a bag slung over her shoulder that contained emergency oxygen in the event that the methane alarm sounded.
“You look ready,” Dr. Syncrest said. “I tried to get some oxygen systems from my supplier, but all the portable units are long gone.”
“I know. When something like this is needed,” Helen said, touching the oxygen kit, “It’s needed immediately. Any and all supplies disappear quickly.”
Nervously, Wendy said, “You said you had something that would protect us? We can’t all use that one portable system.”
“No. We can’t. But I have several more, plus plenty of tanks, and the shelter itself can be sealed, the CO2 scrubbed, and oxygen added from large tanks. All we need is some warning, and I have that. Cost a small fortune, but it’ll all be worth it if even one cloud comes drifting our way. Come on inside.”
Helen unlocked the front door of her house and ushered the other two inside with their bags. Both had substantially more than their first trip. She settled them into two bedrooms of the four bedroom house, and showed them what to do if they heard an alarm sounding.
“I have sensors outside, with inside annunciators. If one of them sounds, you should have a few seconds to get the oxygen mask on and down into the shelter. Go directly to the shelter. If the gas is explosive I’m not one-hundred-percent sure the basement would be totally safe. I am confident of the shelter, as long as the doors are closed and latched.”
Helen gave each woman an oxygen set to keep at hand at all times. Then she re-familiarized them with the off-grid aspects of the house, basement, and shelter. The lack of city services would be no hardship. At least as long as Helen’s preps survived a possible methane explosion, which she wouldn’t be able to do a thing to prevent.
It was the very next day, as the three women were hanging out laundry to dry on the clothes line in the back yard when one of the methane gas detectors sounded loudly. There was no hesitation in Helen. She dropped the pair of jeans she was in the process of hanging up and grabbed the ball shaped tank of oxygen from the pouch on her left thigh and pressed the mask against her face, even as she began to run toward the house.
Fortunately, Wendy and Dr. Syncrest lagged only a step or two behind, both with their oxygen tanks up and the masks on their faces. Helen held the back door open and then followed the two women into the basement, and finally, into the shelter, never removing the oxygen from her face.
Only when she was inside the shelter did she set the oxygen aside and close the heavy door of the shelter entrance. Moving to the communications desk in the shelter, Helen flicked on an outside camera. It had a microphone incorporated and the three heard and saw the effects of the methane cloud.
Two birds fell out of the sky in view of the camera, which was currently aimed at the street. A dog took a few staggering steps and went down. A car travelling down the street at high speed backfired several times and then ran into the yard next door, the driver’s head lolling against the closed glass of the driver’s door.
Helen, fully expecting an explosion, was tense for long minutes. But suddenly the outside alarm quit sounding. The cloud had passed through. But Helen decided a short stay in the shelter was in order.
Wendy started a light lunch for them, as Helen continued to watch the camera monitor, and Dr. Syncrest opened up the book she kept in the shelter to read when she was in it. Helen couldn’t keep from jumping when the sound of an explosion came loudly through the speaker.
The image shivered a little, but continued to work. Helen panned the camera around until she saw the flames from burning houses where the methane cloud had finally ignited.
It happened three times in as many weeks. Even Helen was seriously considering picking up stakes and heading north, much further away from the Gulf. Wendy had been saying they should go for days, and Dr. Syncrest agreed.
But suddenly the weather changed. Yes, it was coming onto late fall, but that had not meant much the previous year. The temperatures had moderated a little, but even during January and February the temperatures were in the mid eighties. It appeared that it would be another winter like the last, if not warmer.
Everyone, experts and lay people alike, had resigned themselves to continued global warming. It began to rain the day Helen decided that Wendy and Dr. Syncrest were right and they should move north.
All three were happy at the rain. It lessened greatly the chance of another methane cloud making it all the way from the coast to them. As they sat and enjoyed cups of coffee before beginning the laborious job of packing up to leave, the rain came down harder and harder.
Curious, Helen tentatively opened the back door of the house and held out her hand gingerly. The rain was ice cold, but otherwise normal, as far as she could tell. “Why is it so cold?” she wondered aloud. “Should be lukewarm, if not warmer, like the last one we got…”
Wendy walked over. “It’s cold?” She held out her hand and then jerked it back. “Like ice!” she exclaimed.
With the cold rain seeming to have set in for the day, the three continued to go over the moving plans, though the sight of the rain and dropping temperature kept them from focusing for very long at a time. Helen finally fired up the wood stove that hadn’t been used in months to take the chill out of the cold, damp air seeping into the house.
The plans were far from made when Helen prepared supper, her eyes going often to the rain falling outside the kitchen window. Uneasy, none of the three felt like working on the plans that evening after they ate. Instead, they gathered around a crank up radio connected to a long wire antenna strung outside.
The news startled them. The cold rain wasn’t a local phenomenon. Apparently it was happing all across the southern half of the US, with the northern half actually getting some snow flurries to heavy snow fall.
“Uh-oh,” Helen said, her gaze going from one to the other of her friends. “This could be bad.”
“How can this be bad?” Wendy asked, rather excited. “Maybe it won’t get any hotter than what we’ve already had.”
“Just an anomaly,” Dr. Syncrest replied. “We’re in the middle of Global Warming. All the real scientists say so.”
Helen was annoyed for a moment. She had downplayed the Global Warming theories from early on, especially that they were human caused. There’d been no doubt that the world temperatures started rising much more rapidly after the methane hydrate started to be released from the continental shelves.
But the doctor had not meant anything personal by it. So Helen shrugged it off and said, “Think how quickly the heat began to increase when the sea temperatures reached the trigger point to start releasing the methane hydrate…”
“Yes. It was quick,” Dr. Syncreast said. “But I don’t see your point.”
Copyright 2010
Wendy literally jumped up and down and clapped her hands. The news was terrific. BP had capped the well and shut off the flow of oil in the Gulf of Mexico. She turned to her best friend in the entire world, Helen Kingston and said, “See! I told you they would do it! Nuke nothing! Things are going to be all right!”
“Um-hm,” murmured Helen. She wasn’t so sure, she thought. And then said so. “I don’t know Wendy. I think it is great news. But until that well they are drilling to tap the first one is successful I’m not going to hold my breath. We may just be seeing the end of the first phase of this disaster.”
“Don’t be a spoil sport,” Wendy replied. “This is great news!”
“I know. But still…”
“I’m going to go down there and help with the clean up, now that fresh oil isn’t being ejected,” Wendy said, her eyes on the television.
“Oh, Wendy! Don’t do that! I know your heart is in the right place, but I told you about the workers that were involved with the Valdez clean up.”
“Coincidence. That’s all that is. I’m sure I’ll be all right. Thousands of people are working down there and nothing is happening to them.”
Helen frowned. She wasn’t so sure of that statement. There’d been on and off news blackouts about several things. She had a feeling the health of the cleanup crews might very well be one of them.
Two days later, unable to convince Wendy not to go, Helen was in the passenger seat of Wendy’s hybrid, on the way to the Gulf Coast with her friend. Helen just couldn’t bring herself to let Wendy go alone. The perceived dangers were just too great, in Helen’s mind, and Wendy had a tendency to ignore such things in her enthusiasm.
It would be nice to get away from the bookstore she owned and operated for a while, though this trip wasn’t her first choice. Paul and Sue had both been on her to get away for a while, more to prove that they were capable of handling the store than for her relaxation. But this would be a good test of their abilities.
The trip went well, and both women arrived at the volunteer center rested and ready to go to work. Or so Wendy thought. There would be no work done by volunteers without some training first. Helen breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the boxes of Tyvek suits, rubber gloves, boots, safety glasses, and face masks that were stacked up around the edge of the training room. She’d brought similar materials herself, for her and Wendy, but the things could get expensive and she was glad to not have the expense of replacing hers after Wendy was satisfied she’d done enough.
Helen sat quietly through the training, while Wendy seemed to hang onto every word the instructors were giving. An hour after their arrival, Wendy was leading Helen down to the beach to begin the cleanup. Wendy seemed almost disappointed that there wasn’t any oil on the beach. They would be cleaning the beach of everything except the sand that oil could adhere to and be a problem to decontaminate.
At least that was the first thing they did. For two days of hot, laborious work. Helen did make sure Wendy wore the wide brimmed hat she’d brought for her, and sunglasses beneath the safety goggles. She was also careful to see that Wendy drank plenty of water, too.
On the third day things changed. They were bused, along with twenty others, to a beach that was already getting inundated with an oil slick stretching far out to sea.
There were strict rules about handling wildlife coated with oil, and reluctantly Wendy left that task to those with the special training needed. Picking up tar balls, driftwood slimy with oil, and all the other detritus coming in with the oil was not very glamorous. It was hot, tiring, and even smelly work, despite the face masks. They weren’t respirators, merely dust masks and the fumes from the oil were beginning to bother more than one of the volunteers.
Wendy was one of the first affected and Helen pulled her off the line, taking her to the nearest aid station set up to handle the minor problems that always occur during such situations.
“I’ll be okay,” Wendy insisted, after a long coughing spell. “I need to get back out there…”
“No,” Helen said.
“You can work in one of the areas without the oil…” said the first-aid attendant.
“No,” Helen said again. “She’s going to go far away from the beach and the oil and clear her lungs thoroughly.”
“But Helen!” cried Wendy. But she couldn’t continue as another coughing spasm had her nearly doubled over.
“We really need volunteers…” said the attendant. Helen glared at her and she fell silent.
“We’re leaving,” Helen said, taking Wendy’s arm when she was able to breathe all right again.
Wendy didn’t protest again. At least, not until they got to the motel room and she saw a news report of the continuing encroachment of the oil onto the nearby beaches. “We have to go back out there!” she insisted.
But Helen insisted just as adamantly that they weren’t going out. “Especially with that storm system coming in.”
The oil wasn’t the only story. A strong storm front was moving through the area. To Wendy that meant it would be cooler and she would be able to breathe better.
“No, Wendy. Now listen to me. This isn’t some simple one week project everyone is facing. And, I suspect, the dangers are much higher than is being admitted to, or even understood. That is raw crude oil out there. It’s a hazardous material to humans. Respirators would help, but there are still risks in handling that stuff.”
“But I want to help!” Wendy said. She was about to cry. There was another shot of oil coated birds and other animals being rescued.
“I know,” Helen said softly, taking her friend’s hands in hers. “But you can’t risk your health. I never should have let you come down here in the first place.”
“It isn’t your place to say what I can and can’t do, Helen,” Wendy said, quite firmly.
“No, it’s not,” replied Helen, stung a little. “But it is my place to advise you based on the best information I have available. And that information is saying that it isn’t safe out there. Not for those like you that want to help so badly that they don’t analyze the risks.”
“I just don’t see it that way…” Wendy’s eyes suddenly widened at what she saw on the television and she fell silent. Helen whirled around to see what had startled Wendy.
“It’s terrible!” came the voice of the newscaster. “There are flames everywhere! People are screaming! Being burned alive!” The live camera was showing sheets of flame coming off the oil, both on land and out in the water.
The newscaster, sounding physically ill continued. “I saw the lightening flash and heard the thunder and then the oil was on fire! We’ve got to get out of here! The wind is pushing…” There was a loud scream and the screen went white. Then the screen suddenly went black, but a few seconds later the newscasters in the studio were being shown.
Both were pale and could barely control their emotions. “It seems that…”
“Turn it off! Please! I don’t want to see anymore,” Wendy begged.
Helen quickly turned off the television and then went to sit beside Wendy. She threw an arm around her and hugged her to her chest. “It’s okay,” she said soothingly as Wendy cried.
After a few moments Wendy sat back and wiped the tears from her eyes. “You saved my life! If we’d still been there… Those screams would have been coming from us.”
Wendy’s eyes were wide as she stared at Helen. “You were right. It was much more dangerous than they said.”
“Yeah. Well, I don’t think we’re going to be doing any good down here now until the authorities decide how to handle these new found dangers. I think we should go back home before something else happens.”
“What else could happen? Maybe we should stay and help… They’ll need help with…” Wendy saw the stern look on Helen’s face and closed her mouth.
“Wendy, I would like to help. Just like you. I really would. But this work, especially now, is for the specialist with the training and equipment to deal with it. Let’s pack up and go home.”
Finally Wendy nodded and said, “Okay. Maybe it’s for the best. My throat and nose are really burning.”
“Well, if it doesn’t get any worse on the trip we’ll just get you in to see Dr. Syncrest. But if it gets worse, I’m taking you to an emergency room.”
Wendy responded by getting up and beginning to pack her suitcase. They were back on the road in less than an hour. Helen was driving and they didn’t stop until well away from the coast, and then only because both needed to go to the bathroom, fuel the SUV, and get something to eat.
Wendy was able to eat a little, though Helen wasn’t sure she would, at first. But after the sandwich and then an ice cream cone, she seemed to be a lot better. They got back into the hybrid and headed home, Helen driving again.
When they did arrive home late the next day, Wendy managed to talk Helen out of getting Dr. Syncrest out to the hospital to look at her. They’d wait until the following day and see her at the doctor’s offices, but Helen was adamant that Wendy see the doctor about her exposure to the crude oil fumes.
They were in the Dr. Syncrest’s waiting room, watching the news the next morning after breakfast when it happened. The news helicopters were circling the area in the Gulf where the work on drilling the relief well was going on, along with the continuing cleanup of the oil still all over the area.
Suddenly the surface of the Gulf heaved upward, and then a huge hole appeared in the water. The drilling rigs, the tankers, support boats… everything simply dropped into the cavity, and then went out of sight as water rushed back into the void. A few seconds later the helicopters circling the area began to go down, one after the other. Finally the feed from the station’s helicopter failed, as it showed the rapidly approaching water as it fell, the engines dead.
“What happened?” asked Wendy. “They just… disappeared.” She looked at Helen wonderingly.
“Methane gas bubble… Oh! This could be bad! Really bad! We need to get home.”
“But Dr. Syncrest. You said you wanted me to see her.”
“And here I am,” said the doctor, coming over to where Wendy and Helen were now standing, their eyes on the still blank television screen. “What’s going on?”
“A methane bubble, I think,” Helen said. “A big one. At the point when the feed stopped, there hadn’t been an explosion, but…”
All three looked at the television again when a picture returned. The newscaster was barely able to speak. “We have reason to believe that a massive methane gas bubble has erupted from the bottom of the Gulf at the site of the Deepwater Horizon disaster. Our experts are saying… Well, here is…” The picture went blank again for long seconds.
It was a different news room this time. The Atlanta, Georgia studios. “This is unthinkable! It couldn’t have…” Suddenly realizing he was on camera, the newscaster quickly composed himself and looked directly into the camera. “From the reports we are getting,” he said, “a massive methane hydrate release has occurred at the site of the Deepwater Horizon. And apparently it has melted enough to provide enough gas to cause an explosion of unheard of magnitude in the Gulf. Methane, when mixed with air in a ratio of 5% to 15% methane to 95% to 85% air becomes explosive.”
The man looked startled and grabbed the news desk as the picture shook violently. The shaking in the studio was still going on when the medical building Wendy, Helen, and Dr. Syncrest were standing in shook for several seconds.
Wendy was wide eyed. Dr. Syncrest looked more than a bit surprised. Only Helen seemed to understand the connection. “It’s the blast! It must have been huge. Dr. Syncrest, if you don’t have preparations for a disaster made at your home, I suggest you grab everything medical you can carry and come with Wendy and I. I have a shelter at home that should protect us from the aftermath of this.”
“But that happened in the Gulf!” the Doctor said. “Surely…” The building shook again, this time more violently.
“I’ll be right behind you,” the doctor said then. “Give me just a few minutes to gather some things.”
Wendy was looking at the television again. The camera was still on, and the transmitter was still transmitting, but picture was sideways and there was total pandemonium in the studio. Seconds later the picture went off, and then the power in the office went off.
Helen didn’t even try the elevator. She guided Wendy and the doctor toward the stairs, grabbing one of the huge bags that Dr. Syncrest was carrying. The parking garage was still intact, though there was a great deal of concrete dust in the air and on the vehicles, and not a few chunks of concrete lying here and there.
Helen tossed the bag she was carrying into the back of the hybrid, and then, without asking Wendy, got behind the wheel as Wendy and the doctor added the other bags to the back and then took seats inside.
Driving carefully, but with all intentions of getting out of the parking garage before anymore shocks could bring it down on them, Helen headed for Wendy’s apartment building.
“Okay,” Dr. Syncrest said, “I know this is probably bad. But just exactly are we in such a hurry?”
“Something like the methane hydrate release could escalate. There are a lot of deposits. Each one that releases, whether it explodes or not, is going to have a cascading effect. If it happens. It might not, but I’m not taking a chance.
“Some of the releases might not explode immediately. They could spread a very long ways before the ratio of methane to air is at an explosive point. Then anything could ignite it. That’s just the immediate effects, which, I admit, are fairly local. I’m more worried about the long term effects of that much methane entering the atmosphere.
“If there are more releases, and they drift inland, it is going to be hard to breathe. I have a supplemental oxygen system for my shelter, with CO2 scrubbers. With just the three of us, we can last for a couple of weeks buttoned up, if need be. I don’t think we’ll need to, but we can if necessary.”
The other two women were silent. Helen’s words had them not only speechless, but frightened.
“Okay Wendy,” Helen said when she came to a stop in front of Wendy’s apartment building. “We’re here. You get everything you think you might need for a couple of months…
“A couple of months!” both women exclaimed.
“At least. Everything of real importance. Get it ready. I’m going to take Dr. Syncrest to her place to do the same.”
“You’re scaring me, Helen,” Wendy said when she got out of the SUV.
“Good,” Helen replied. “It’ll keep you focused. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”
“I’m not so sure I should be doing this,” Dr. Syncrest told Helen after giving her directions to her home. “I feel like I’m abandoning my patients.”
“If nothing happens, which is what I really hope, then you’ll be back in your offices in a matter of days. But if something serious does happen, you aren’t going to be of much use if you’re injured or killed in the early stages. There are people that can’t be helped, no matter what. I think you should protect yourself so you can do the most good in the aftermath, if there is one.”
Dr. Syncrest looked thoughtful as they continued toward her house in silence. Helen skillfully avoided a couple of accidents, caused by the explosions’ blast waves.
“How much can I bring?” Dr. Syncrest asked when Helen pulled into the driveway of the large house.
“Anything that will fit in or on the hybrid,” Helen replied. “With enough room for Wendy and her things. I doubt she’ll bring more than a couple of suitcases. She isn’t convinced there is anything really serious yet.”
“Okay. Come on in. I’ll get started packing.”
“That’s okay. I want to stay out here and listen to the radio. You can work faster without me being there.”
Dr. Syncrest nodded and hurried toward the front door of the house. It was nearly a half an hour later when she came out with a handcart loaded with totes. Helen quickly climbed out of the hybrid SUV and hurried over to help the doctor get the things loaded into the vehicle.
It took two more trips, with the last load going on top of the SUV, before Dr. Syncrest locked the door of the house and got back into the passenger seat.
“What’s been going on?” she asked Helen.
“Nothing good,” Helen replied. “What reports there are, are pretty sketchy. Only there have been several big explosions over the Gulf waters, as well as some on land in at least three places. There are fires burning all over the place.
“Other places people are just falling over dead, apparently from asphyxiation from high concentrations of methane drifting ashore.”
“So it is real,” Dr. Syncrest said softly.
“I’m afraid so.”
Wendy was sitting on one of her suitcases in front of the apartment house when Helen pulled up. Sure enough, Wendy had only two suitcases, plus her computer case and huge purse she carried when shopping.
With the cases in the rear seat, Wendy got in beside them and Helen headed toward her place outside the city. Where the lack of response from others amazed Helen, it caused Wendy and Dr. Syncrest to doubt the need for the hurried preparations.
But when another blast wave nearly knocked the three down as they transferred items from the hybrid to Helen’s front porch, all doubts left the two women’s minds. There was a real disaster going on, even if they didn’t understand it completely.
With everything unloaded, and inside the house, Helen turned on the satellite television to see if there was a signal. There was, and she quickly switched to the Weather Channel. There was nothing on the screen. Helen tried Fox News next. They were on the air and the activity in the Gulf was the lead story.
The entire Gulf Coast, for miles inland was a burned wasteland. Further inland the effects of the massive blasts looked like scenes from nuclear war movies. Destruction everywhere the cameras pointed. Though there were no cameras left to show it, more oil gushed into the Gulf from the now cracked sea floor.
And it wasn’t over. Despite the losses of personnel and equipment that had already occurred, there were news helicopters flying over the devastation. For a while. Two of those helicopters furnishing feeds to Fox News showed a huge wall of flame approaching them, taking out three other aircraft in the path before the picture went black when the blast reached them.
“I don’t want to watch anymore, Wendy said softly. She was pale and looked like she was about to throw up.
“It’s terrible!” Dr. Syncrest. Maybe I should be out there, helping with the injuries…”
Helen just looked at her. Dr. Syncrest looked away and didn’t speak again for several minutes.
Helen turned off the television and then set about getting the other two women’s things moved down to the basement. The basement was very secure and safe against most disasters, but Helen also had an underground shelter behind the house with a connection to the basement. They would take up residence there if things became bad enough to justify it.
For three days the three women stayed close to the house, watching the news coverage of the disaster. And the skies. The sky was dark, filled with smoke from the many fires started by the explosions over the entire Gulf Coast and inland many miles. The burning oil floating on the surface of the Gulf was pouring more smoke into the skies.
On the fourth day, Dr. Syncrest said, “I have to get back to work. The situation seems to be over. They’re putting out the fires and no more explosions have occurred.”
“I understand,” Helen said. She was feeling the same pull to get back to work.
Wendy didn’t need to go to work. She lived her on her moderate inheritance, doing charity work. But she, too, wanted to get back to her normal routine. She’d been scared enough not to even think about going to help around the zone of destruction around the Gulf, but she had plenty of other local charities to help with, plus a couple new ones that were helping the survivors of the methane hydrate disaster.
So the three went back to their normal lives, a little more aware of the things going on around them. And things that were happening.
There was nothing that could be done about the oil in the Gulf. There were simply no tools in the human toolbox that could seal the bottom of the Gulf. So oil continued to come to the surface of the Gulf, and would, until the pressure was released enough to stop on its own. The Gulf Coast was essentially written off until a massive effort could be made to start the clean up and recovery. For the moment, the money simply wasn’t available
But the skies cleared and sunshine poured down. New records of high temperatures were being set around the world in the Northern Hemisphere. Those believing in global warming were having a heyday. There were pictures of glaciers pouring millions of gallons of fresh melt water into the northern oceans.
The oceans, as massive as they were, began to heat up to temperatures not known for millennia, especially off the coastal shelves. Where massive amounts of methane hydrate were trapped.
But not for long. As the temperatures continued to rise, and then not drop much as winter came and went, bubbles began to appear on the surface of the oceans. Not a huge release the way the incident in the Gulf had occurred, but a little here and a little there, pouring more and more methane into the atmosphere. As a primary ‘greenhouse gas’, it contributed to even more warming.
The records set the summer before were shattered, with much higher records set. The death toll from the heat was tremendous. More and more methane hydrate surfaced. And the hotter it became.
For two years, things continued the same way, each year a bit worse than the last. Small wars were being fought over water rights. Cap and Trade was the new boondoggle with accusations and counter accusations that this company or country was cheating, disadvantaging some other country.
But that all changed on August 30 of that second year. Methane was pouring into the atmosphere by the ton, all around the world’s coastal regions. And the same warm waters that were releasing methane were spawning hurricanes right and left. Tropical Storm Giselle became Hurricane Giselle on the 30th of August. All it took was one sudden massive release beneath Giselle to incorporate enough methane into the hurricane to create a huge fuel/air explosion that dwarfed all that came before it.
The blast simply destroyed the storm as an organized weather event. The small amount of rebuilding that had taken place on the outer edges of the zone of destruction was flattened, and more destroyed even further inland.
The blast touched other pockets of methane and triggered them. Coastlines around the world went up in flames. And smoke poured into the atmosphere.
The Gulf Stream, heavy with the warm waters of the Gulf and Mid-Atlantic, finally succumbed to the lighter fresh water coming from the northern waters and sank beneath them.
This time the skies didn’t clear after a short period of time. There was just too much material burning. And every time a cloud of methane from the continuing releases drifted into one of the fires, there was another explosion that kept the fires burning and created more.
Methane is odorless and colorless. People were falling over dead when the invisible clouds drifted into populated areas. There simply were not enough sensors available to detect the gas on a timely basis to warn people when a cloud of methane was drifting their way.
And even if there had been, there weren’t enough of the small self-contained breathing kits that were in mass production being delivered to make any real difference. Only someone already prepared for the situation had much of a chance if they were within a hundred miles of a seacoast.
The day after Giselle became an air/fuel bomb, Wendy and Dr. Syncrest both showed up on Helen’s doorstep. Telephone service, including cellular, was out. So were most of the city services, including power, water, and sewer.
Helen had given her employees the day off to make whatever arrangements they wanted to cope with the situation. Both simply gave notice and headed further inland. So Helen locked up the bookstore, went home, and found the two women waiting, looking more than a bit afraid that the methane could get them before Helen got home.
Helen had a methane gas detector clipped to her jacket, and a bag slung over her shoulder that contained emergency oxygen in the event that the methane alarm sounded.
“You look ready,” Dr. Syncrest said. “I tried to get some oxygen systems from my supplier, but all the portable units are long gone.”
“I know. When something like this is needed,” Helen said, touching the oxygen kit, “It’s needed immediately. Any and all supplies disappear quickly.”
Nervously, Wendy said, “You said you had something that would protect us? We can’t all use that one portable system.”
“No. We can’t. But I have several more, plus plenty of tanks, and the shelter itself can be sealed, the CO2 scrubbed, and oxygen added from large tanks. All we need is some warning, and I have that. Cost a small fortune, but it’ll all be worth it if even one cloud comes drifting our way. Come on inside.”
Helen unlocked the front door of her house and ushered the other two inside with their bags. Both had substantially more than their first trip. She settled them into two bedrooms of the four bedroom house, and showed them what to do if they heard an alarm sounding.
“I have sensors outside, with inside annunciators. If one of them sounds, you should have a few seconds to get the oxygen mask on and down into the shelter. Go directly to the shelter. If the gas is explosive I’m not one-hundred-percent sure the basement would be totally safe. I am confident of the shelter, as long as the doors are closed and latched.”
Helen gave each woman an oxygen set to keep at hand at all times. Then she re-familiarized them with the off-grid aspects of the house, basement, and shelter. The lack of city services would be no hardship. At least as long as Helen’s preps survived a possible methane explosion, which she wouldn’t be able to do a thing to prevent.
It was the very next day, as the three women were hanging out laundry to dry on the clothes line in the back yard when one of the methane gas detectors sounded loudly. There was no hesitation in Helen. She dropped the pair of jeans she was in the process of hanging up and grabbed the ball shaped tank of oxygen from the pouch on her left thigh and pressed the mask against her face, even as she began to run toward the house.
Fortunately, Wendy and Dr. Syncrest lagged only a step or two behind, both with their oxygen tanks up and the masks on their faces. Helen held the back door open and then followed the two women into the basement, and finally, into the shelter, never removing the oxygen from her face.
Only when she was inside the shelter did she set the oxygen aside and close the heavy door of the shelter entrance. Moving to the communications desk in the shelter, Helen flicked on an outside camera. It had a microphone incorporated and the three heard and saw the effects of the methane cloud.
Two birds fell out of the sky in view of the camera, which was currently aimed at the street. A dog took a few staggering steps and went down. A car travelling down the street at high speed backfired several times and then ran into the yard next door, the driver’s head lolling against the closed glass of the driver’s door.
Helen, fully expecting an explosion, was tense for long minutes. But suddenly the outside alarm quit sounding. The cloud had passed through. But Helen decided a short stay in the shelter was in order.
Wendy started a light lunch for them, as Helen continued to watch the camera monitor, and Dr. Syncrest opened up the book she kept in the shelter to read when she was in it. Helen couldn’t keep from jumping when the sound of an explosion came loudly through the speaker.
The image shivered a little, but continued to work. Helen panned the camera around until she saw the flames from burning houses where the methane cloud had finally ignited.
It happened three times in as many weeks. Even Helen was seriously considering picking up stakes and heading north, much further away from the Gulf. Wendy had been saying they should go for days, and Dr. Syncrest agreed.
But suddenly the weather changed. Yes, it was coming onto late fall, but that had not meant much the previous year. The temperatures had moderated a little, but even during January and February the temperatures were in the mid eighties. It appeared that it would be another winter like the last, if not warmer.
Everyone, experts and lay people alike, had resigned themselves to continued global warming. It began to rain the day Helen decided that Wendy and Dr. Syncrest were right and they should move north.
All three were happy at the rain. It lessened greatly the chance of another methane cloud making it all the way from the coast to them. As they sat and enjoyed cups of coffee before beginning the laborious job of packing up to leave, the rain came down harder and harder.
Curious, Helen tentatively opened the back door of the house and held out her hand gingerly. The rain was ice cold, but otherwise normal, as far as she could tell. “Why is it so cold?” she wondered aloud. “Should be lukewarm, if not warmer, like the last one we got…”
Wendy walked over. “It’s cold?” She held out her hand and then jerked it back. “Like ice!” she exclaimed.
With the cold rain seeming to have set in for the day, the three continued to go over the moving plans, though the sight of the rain and dropping temperature kept them from focusing for very long at a time. Helen finally fired up the wood stove that hadn’t been used in months to take the chill out of the cold, damp air seeping into the house.
The plans were far from made when Helen prepared supper, her eyes going often to the rain falling outside the kitchen window. Uneasy, none of the three felt like working on the plans that evening after they ate. Instead, they gathered around a crank up radio connected to a long wire antenna strung outside.
The news startled them. The cold rain wasn’t a local phenomenon. Apparently it was happing all across the southern half of the US, with the northern half actually getting some snow flurries to heavy snow fall.
“Uh-oh,” Helen said, her gaze going from one to the other of her friends. “This could be bad.”
“How can this be bad?” Wendy asked, rather excited. “Maybe it won’t get any hotter than what we’ve already had.”
“Just an anomaly,” Dr. Syncrest replied. “We’re in the middle of Global Warming. All the real scientists say so.”
Helen was annoyed for a moment. She had downplayed the Global Warming theories from early on, especially that they were human caused. There’d been no doubt that the world temperatures started rising much more rapidly after the methane hydrate started to be released from the continental shelves.
But the doctor had not meant anything personal by it. So Helen shrugged it off and said, “Think how quickly the heat began to increase when the sea temperatures reached the trigger point to start releasing the methane hydrate…”
“Yes. It was quick,” Dr. Syncreast said. “But I don’t see your point.”
Copyright 2010
