The geologist spoke as he prepared a series of collection kits. “I need several samples of the detritus and silt, starting from the periphery and working toward the middle.” He freed a hammer and chisel and held them out. “If one of you could chip a piece of granite near the lip, that would speed things up.”
Ryan motioned for Bellamy to obey. “Why do you need a chunk of stone?”
“To use as a baseline for the composition of the local bedrock. Something to compare against the samples from the blast zone.”
Bellamy took the tools and a small sample bag, crossed a few yards away, and set to work. The young black man had been a linebacker for the Utah State Aggies, but a knee injury had sidelined him. With a wife and a young daughter on the way, he had quit school and joined the Guard. He was a good soldier and knew how to work fast and efficiently.
Chin attached a glass vial to a telescoping aluminum pole. Bending down, he stretched the rod and scooped up a sample of the coarse sand closest to the edge.
While the geologist worked, Ryan stared across the pit. The debris grew even finer out there, becoming a powdery dust near the center, where it seemed to swirl in an hourglass shape, spiraling downward and disappearing into the throat of the steaming hole.
A muffled gasp drew his attention back to Chin. The geologist held his pole out over the pit. He’d been successful in scooping up a sample of the hot sand in the glass vial. Only now the jar’s surface was covered in a web of cracks.
Had the heat shattered it?
As Ryan watched, the vial’s bottom cracked off, spilling the sample back into the pit. As the chunk of glass hit the surface, it seemed to melt into the powder. No, not melt. In a matter of seconds, it dissolved away, vanishing into nothingness.
Chin straightened from his crouch. He still held aloft the pole with the remnants of the broken vial clamped at its end. As both he and Ryan stared, the rest of the container crumbled into a fine glassy powder and sifted into the pit. Even the tip of the aluminum rod began to disintegrate, working slowly down its length. Before it could travel more than a few inches, Chin tossed the pole into the pit. It impaled the powdery surface like a javelin—then continued to sink as if into quicksand.
Ryan knew it wasn’t just sinking.
“It’s denaturing,” Chin said, amazement countering Ryan’s terror. “Whatever’s going on here, it’s breaking down matter. Maybe at the atomic level.”
“What the hell’s causing it?”
“I have no idea.”
“Then how do we stop it?”
Chin only shook his head. Ryan pictured the process continuing to spread like a cancer over the mountains, digging ever deeper at the same time. He remembered the geologist’s words, describing what lay beneath his feet.
This entire region sits atop a volcanic hotbed.
As a reminder, the ground gave another violent shake, much worse than before. The geyser spouted again, reaching as high as the treetops, casting out a wall of superheated air.
Chin shielded his face with an arm while pointing the other man back toward the Guard post. “This is far too unstable! You need to evacuate this chasm. Retreat at least a mile.”
Ryan had no intention of arguing. He yelled to Bellamy, who still stood a few yards away with a hammer and chisel. “Forget that! Get the men ready to move out! Gather all our gear!”
Before the big man could take a step, another boulder broke off the cliff face behind the private and crashed into the pit. Damp powder splashed outward. Several black splotches struck Bellamy on the lower right leg.
“Get back from there!” Ryan ordered.
Needing no urging, Bellamy trotted toward them. By the time he reached them, his face was a mask of pain. He hobbled on his right leg.
“What’s wrong?” Ryan asked.
“Leg’s on fire, sir.”
Ryan glanced down. The flame-retardant trousers should have protected his skin against any burn from the splatter of hot powder.
“Get him on the ground!” Chin barked out. “Now!”
Ryan jumped, responding to the command in the geologist’s voice. He reached for Bellamy’s shoulder, but the private suddenly screamed, toppling as his right leg crumpled under him. The limb cracked midshin, breaking sideways.
Ryan managed to catch him and lower him to the ground.
“Fuuuuck,” the private yelled, writhing in agony.
Ryan didn’t admonish the cursing. He felt like doing the same himself. What the hell was happening?
Chin knelt by Bellamy’s legs. He had a blade in hand, a military KA-BAR knife. He slit the private’s trouser leg from knee to ankle, revealing an ugly compound fracture midshin. A splintered chunk of tibial bone poked out of his calf, stark white against the man’s dark skin. Blood seeped, but not as much as Chin had anticipated.
“He’s contaminated,” Chin said.
Ryan struggled to understand what that meant—then as he watched, the sharp end of shattered bone began to turn to dust before his eyes. The skin along the edges of the wound retreated, dissolving away from the wound. Ryan pictured the splash of powder hitting Bellamy and remembered the word the geologist had used a moment ago.
Denaturing.
The powder must have eaten through Bellamy’s suit and set to work on his leg.
“Wh-what do we do?” Ryan stammered.
“Get an ax!” Chin ordered.
It wasn’t the force of command that got Ryan moving this time, but the fear in the geologist’s voice. Chin had already cut away the stained piece of fabric, careful not to touch it, and tossed it into the pit. If Ryan had any doubt as to Chin’s plan, it was dispelled when the geologist yanked off his belt and began preparing a tourniquet.
Bellamy also understood, letting out a low moan. “Noooo . . .”
“It’s the only way,” Chin explained to the private. “We can’t let it spread up your leg.”
He was right. As Ryan ran toward his camp, he remembered the question he’d posed earlier, picturing the expanding crater. How do we stop it?
He had his answer.
At great cost.
All they could do for now was damage control.
In less than a minute, he returned with an ax, collected from the camp’s firefighting gear, along with two of his men. By the time they arrived, Chin already had his belt cinched around Bellamy’s thigh. The private lay on his back, pinned at the shoulders by the geologist. Behind his mask, Bellamy’s face shone with terror and pain.
Gasps rose from the other two soldiers.
Ryan understood. Bellamy’s leg looked like a shark had taken a bite out of the calf. Only meat and skin still held the appendage together. The rest had been eaten away by whatever had contaminated him.