A River of Deadly Gas

Welcome to The Spot Writers.

The task this month is to write a story where something yellow is important.

This week’s story is written by Phil Yeats. Last fall, he published The Souring Seas, the first volume in a precautionary tale about the hazards of ignoring human-induced climate change. The second volume, Building Houses of Cards, appeared last month. For information about these books, visit his website–https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com/

 

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A River of Deadly Gas

by Phil Yeats

 

On Tuesday morning, in the middle of a major heat wave, I noticed the yellow tape as I walked to work. It reminded me of crime scene tape in police dramas, but this stuff was there for pedestrian traffic control. The tape stretching across the sidewalk between pylons said, ‘Caution. Sidewalk closed. Use opposite side.’ in stark black letters.

I’d been seconded to our environmental engineering firm’s regional office. We were cleaning up an industrial site near a small city on the Canadian prairie. Mosquitos and horse flies in a cow town where everyone drives overpowered pickup trucks was not my idea of a dream assignment, but such was life. My job was well paid, but it took me to industrial cesspools, not pristine beaches. And I wasn’t the world’s best traveller. I focused on getting back to the comforts of home rather than searching for interesting new experiences.

“Bloody nuisance,” I muttered as I watched the traffic barrelling down Main Street at something approaching highway speed. I could retreat two blocks to the nearest traffic light, or challenge the cowboys in their pickups.

Miracle of miracles, a gap like the Dead Sea parting appeared, and I dashed across.

I wondered, as I hurried along the busy street, why two downtown blocks, and the side street separating them, were cordoned off.

That evening on the way to my temporary digs, I diverted when I reached the cordoned off area. It now extended another block north along Main Street and two blocks east along the side street between Main and the river. I walked to the river, then south along the riverfront. I couldn’t easily return to Main because the structure for a bridge across the river separated the cordoned-off northern sidewalk from the southern one. I strode under the bridge approach and back to Main without having a good view of the six-block area isolated by the yellow warning tape.

During my perusal, I noticed two things. First, I saw very little activity inside the cordon. Second, workers were constructing a more substantial barrier along the outside edge of the sidewalk at the northeast corner.

At home, I searched the town website, the local news outlets, and social media for insights, but found nothing. I went to bed annoyed that I hadn’t learned more, but couldn’t pursue it. I was leaving the next day for a three-day trip to review sampling protocols at our active remediation sites.

Friday afternoon, as I drove the company SUV along Main Street, I noticed the changes at the construction site. The entire site appeared to be surrounded by a bright yellow wall. I parked on the next block and strode back to investigate.

The bright yellow wall was three metres high. Its colour reminded me of elemental sulphur, and when I got as close as I could to it, I thought I could detect the odour emitted by impure samples of natural sulphur. The wall was fifty centimetres from the edge of the sidewalk and cantilevered outward at the top. A vertical metal screen that extended from the top to the ground protected its outer surface.

Seconds after I approached the wall, a security guard accosted me. He refused to explain anything and insisted I move along if I wanted to avoid arrest. I abandoned my investigation and returned to my vehicle.

In our regional office, I was swept into the pandemonium that too often accompanies serious crises. I joined a lively discussion led by the company CEO. He apparently arrived from headquarters earlier that day. As the conversation jumped from one topic to another, I pieced together the story.

Extreme heat in the tundra released toxic heavier-than-air gas that was flowing south. We were in the path of the river-like flow. Animals and a few humans succumbed to the river of gas in the remote regions it traversed. It was now approaching more populated areas. The barricade around several downtown blocks was an attempt by the local civic authorities to provide a sandbag-like barrier that would protect the city core.

“And the coating of sulphur on the outer wall?” I asked.

“Not clear,” our CEO replied. “A concoction of elemental sulphur and ground pyrite.”

“What!” someone exclaimed.

The CEO cracked a smile. “The city acted without informing provincial officials or consulting federal partners. No explanation of what they’re doing or why.”

“Utter chaos,” the intervener added. “Where do we stand?”

“Part of a joint federal provincial task force. They need our expertise in remediation and clean-up.” The CEO paused, gazing around the room. “Time to shift from the general discussion and to our specific tasks.”

Three hours later, I headed home. My responsibilities were clear and my work schedule for the next weeks was laid out. We faced a month-long effort that would start in the morning at 8 a.m. I stopped at a pub for a late supper and a chance to think.

We faced a mountain of unknowns starting with the nature of the colourless dense gases comprising the flow. Increasing release of methane from melting permafrost was a well-known global warming problem. We’d also expect lower concentration releases of ethane and other alkanes. Methane and ethane were lighter than air, so they’d escape to the upper atmosphere. Propane and butane were not. They could be responsible for the ground level flow.

Someone suggested release of noble gases could be part of the problem. Helium from the melting permafrost was inevitable, but it was so light it would escape to outer space. Neon was also lighter than air, so it would escape to the upper atmosphere. Argon was the most common noble gas. It comprises one percent of the air we breathed. It’s denser than oxygen and nitrogen, but not dense enough to form a separate ground-hugging layer. Krypton and xenon were dense enough, but their global concentrations are far too small.

Nope, I thought as the server arrived with my dinner. Propane and butane are the only likely candidates. I couldn’t understand why their role wasn’t already established, but I put that question aside. Next problem. How could we trap a near-ground flow of pentane and butane? It should be simple, but the gas was thinly spread over a large area. And why did they plaster bright yellow sulphur on the outside of the barricades? I had no answer for that one.

 

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The Spot Writers—Our Members:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com/

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/