by E S Richards
All ideas and suggestions seemed equally as likely to Mia, but what she realized most as she thought it through was just how little she cared. Beyond her family and the survivors she was with in the airport lobby, she didn’t want to think too much about the bigger picture. Not until she had to, at least.
“Interesting place to choose to take a stroll, Mia.” Jorge’s voice suddenly floated into her ears, her companion creeping up behind her as she meandered through the lobby with no real sense of direction or purpose. “What are you doing?”
“Hey, Jorge,” Mia smiled politely. She was happy to see her friend, but she had been enjoying the time by herself to think. There was a lot to process and since the eruption, she’d barely had more than a couple of minutes to herself. “I’m actually looking for that bag you brought off of our plane. Do you know where it is?”
“Ay,” Jorge sighed and scratched his chin, a five o’clock shadow now covering it, as he hadn’t been able to shave. “I have no idea, Mia. I can’t even remember where I put it down when we arrived. Why do you want it?”
“For a map. I want to figure out a safe route out of here.”
Jorge nodded, understanding Mia’s intentions exactly. He too had woken with that very thought: find a route away from the airport—though he was uncertain exactly where he wanted to go. “Aha!” Jorge snapped his fingers together after a minute, an idea coming to his mind. “I know where we’ll be able to find one. Come on!”
Without bothering to ask for an explanation, Mia followed Jorge as he headed back to where the group of them had slept. Most were awake now and making quiet conversation. There was an uneasiness about the group as none of them were sure what they should be doing or whether someone was going to take charge. Mia expected Jorge to stop when they reached them, but instead he strode through, turning his head only briefly to nod at their fellow survivors. Mia gave an awkward wave and a shrug, continuing to tail Jorge as he led her through a set of double doors and out of the lobby.
“Maps,” Jorge remarked matter-of-factly as he finally came to a halt, standing in front of one of the duty-free stores inside the airport. “They might be a bit water damaged, but I’m sure there’s something in here.”
Mia couldn’t think why she hadn’t thought of this first. There was a whole store full of the exact thing she needed and more. Naturally airports weren’t the go-to place for survival gear, but they had a big enough stock of essentials. There was food, water, toiletries, books, maps, magazines, and countless luxury items too. It was the perfect hoard—the whole place forgotten about in the chaos of yesterday’s events. Picking up a basket and starting to raid the shelves, Mia put a pin in her thoughts of death and disaster and gave herself a few moments of pure, uninterrupted retail therapy.
Walking back into the lobby about twenty minutes later, she was prepared and ready to make it a successful day. Along with Jorge, she had pillaged the airport for every scrap of food that they could concoct together to make a half-decent meal. Mia’s logic was that all the fresh food—so the only food she was really interested in eating—would be ruined within a further twenty-four hours. As it was unlikely any of them were going to stay in the airport much longer than that, they might as well make a feast out of it and have enough energy to power them through what was to come.
“Who’s hungry?” Mia announced as she met the rest of the group, dropping bags of food on the floor in front of them. It was mostly sandwiches—both deconstructed and in regular form, the one restaurant within the airport freezing most of its produce aside from the integral elements of their paninis.
“Wicked,” Marcus exclaimed at the sight of it all, slapping Jesse on the back and climbing to his feet. “I’m starved.”
“Have you got everything out of the shop and Livin’ Italy?” Angelica questioned, giving the airport restaurant its proper name.
“Yeah,” Mia nodded. “Everything that we can eat cold anyway. There’s loads of pasta and various other things, but without a working stove we can’t do much with it.”
Angelica shrugged, understanding what Mia was saying. The airport had lost its power long ago, the ash cloud seeing to that, and then the effects of the lahars making sure nothing electric continued to work. Personally, Angelica was anxious to leave the place. She’d never enjoyed her job there and only did it to help provide for her family. Now all she wanted to do was get back to them, though she was still very afraid of going outside.
“Is this all for us, Dad?”
“It sure is,” Patrick said to his daughter, looking quickly to Mia for confirmation, who smiled at the father. “Are you hungry, Allie?”
The young girl nodded and dove enthusiastically into the pile of food, picking out a couple of sandwiches for her and her father, along with a box of cookies, a few extra slices of cheese, and two bottles of water. Mia watched as she then waddled back to the corner where she and Patrick had made their bed the night before, dumping her haul and immediately starting to unwrap one of the sandwiches.
“Thank you,” Patrick said to Mia. “Do you have any idea what you’re going to do today? What we all should do?”
Mia cleared her throat. This was exactly what she’d expected. She didn’t want to make the decision for everyone again, but with the group being even smaller now and everyone having witnessed how badly things could go wrong, she was sure they would all be relying on her and Jorge to some extent. At the very least, for some guidance on what to do or where to go next.
“I’m going to head away from the airport,” Mia replied honestly, keeping her voice low in the hope it would stop the others from joining in the conversation. She was happy to have it later, but she wanted to pay some attention to the maps first. “We should all try and get as far away from the eruption site as possible. I’m going to try and head back to Houston, as that’s where my family is. I don’t think anywhere will be much safer than the rest of the country in reality.”
“Oh.” Patrick mused over Mia’s answer—she could tell immediately it hadn’t been what he had wanted to hear. “Do you think we should try and get back to Washington then?”
“If that’s where is safe for you, then yeah,” Mia agreed. “Like I said, the whole country will have been affected by this so there isn’t anywhere that is much better than the rest of it. But I know I’d much rather be in my own home than some run-down airport.”
“Yeah, true,” Patrick nodded, looking over his shoulder at Allie ravenously making her way through the box of cookies. “I better go and see how she’s doing. Thanks again, Mia.”
Mia smiled and let the man walk away, understanding that he needed some time to process the information. Unfortunately, she knew that was going to be the same for everyone left in the airport. Their options were limited: either stay where they were or try to make it home. She hoped most of them lived closer than she did, for she knew the journey across the country would not be easy. It was one that needed to be made though, and she wasn’t going to let anything stop her.
The rest of the morning passed with relative ease. Everyone ate and a few short conversations were had, much like the one between Mia and Patrick. Thankfully Mia managed to sneak away into an old office to pore over the maps, giving her some time to think about her next move. The end destination was clear; the thing she needed to determine though was the route.
The obvious and quickest route would be through the middle of the country: down through Wyoming and Colorado and then into Texas. But that meant going through the kill zone, which Mia was reluctant to do. There hadn’t been that much research conducted into how long the kill zone would be deadly, but she figured she would be pressing her luck too much to travel that way. Which meant she would be forced to take the longer route through the more densely populated cities. That in itself created additional problems; large cities meant a lot of people and a lot of people meant a lot of panic. Still, Mia didn’t see any other option if she wanted to survive the journey. People, she could deal with. Natural disaste
rs were slightly more difficult to predict. After two hours of planning, she was finally ready to go.
“I’m leaving,” she announced to Jorge as she returned to the airport lobby, finding him sitting around doing nothing of interest, much like everyone else. She wondered again how long the rest of them were planning on just idling around. It felt to her like a huge waste of time, resources, and potential. “Do you want to come?”
As Mia waited for his response, she found herself uncertain of what she wanted the reply to be. The journey would undoubtedly be quicker and easier if she took it on alone, but could she survive it by herself? Jorge had been a massive aid to her already; perhaps he would be the difference between her seeing her family again and not. As the Spaniard weighed his decision, Mia could do nothing but watch and wait, just like she had during the eruption.
Chapter 20
“I can manage on my own you know,” Jerry argued with his grandson as Chase followed him down the stairs into the basement. “I don’t need you watching over my shoulder all the time.”
“I know,” Chase answered, still refusing to turn back and leave his grandpop to the task alone. “But two sets of hands are better than one. We’ll get everything done quicker this way.”
Jerry rolled his eyes and sighed. He knew exactly what Chase was doing, but it didn’t seem like he was going to be able to stop it. Remembering what he had vowed to himself earlier that morning, he tried to see things in a positive light instead. Chase was only worried about him and that was a valiant attribute for the young boy to have. With Jerry uncertain how much time he had left before things like the love for his family started to fade away from his head, he decided to just be thankful that his grandson was with him and that he wanted to help.
“Okay,” Jerry surrendered as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “I suppose you helping isn’t the worst thing in the world,” he smiled. “You can do all the difficult stuff.”
“Yeah, right,” Chase laughed. “What are we actually supposed to be doing about these vents?”
Jerry stepped forward, rolling up his sleeves and assessing the vents in front of him. There were two that led outside, vital pieces of equipment to ensure that the fumes from the generator didn’t suffocate them inside the basement. They hadn’t needed to switch on the backup generator yet, but with the weather continuing to deteriorate every day, Jerry didn’t think it would be long until their power cut out. When that happened, life in the farmhouse would take a very sharp turn back in time, something he was unsure the kids would be ready for. Chase still carried his cell in his pocket despite how useless the metal rectangle had become—like many children his age, he just couldn’t bear to part with it.
“We just need to make sure the vents are clear,” Jerry summarized. “They’ve not been used in quite a few years so we need to check that the fans can still move and circulate the air. Otherwise this generator could be our demise rather than our savior.”
“So much resting on this old thing,” Chase joked, giving the generator a sarcastic pat like he would to a dog. “She’s a part of the family now, I suppose.”
“Aye,” Jerry smiled. “Jenny the generator? I think your sister would like that.”
Chase laughed at the name, certain that Riley would approve. She enjoyed giving names to all sorts of things, each one of her stuffed animals coming with both first and last names, plus backstories. Then there were the cows and the chickens that she had named as well—their family had had a field day when she’d announced what the calves were to be called. No one had been able to argue with her of course, Milk and Shake immediately seeming like the only option for the former dairy cattle.
“Come on then,” Jerry continued after the brief seconds of laughter, enjoying the moment he was sharing with his grandson. “You go around the other side and do that one. I’ll start here.”
Chase did as he was told and took one of the buckets they had brought downstairs around the other side of the generator. The thing was huge, probably about as long as he was tall and a good couple of feet wide. He wondered how many years it had been down in the basement, remembering its presence for as long as he had been visiting his grandparents’ old farmhouse.
The fans were in the same position on either side. Old-fashioned ones where you could literally see the blades inside the covering, along with the years of dust and dirt that had built up on them. Chase removed the cover like his pop had shown him and set to work cleaning that first, dust particles flying up into the air with every movement he made, making his nose tickle and his eyes water.
It wasn’t particularly interesting work, leaving Chase with a lot of time to think. He thought about starting a conversation with his grandfather on more than one occasion, but for some reason he couldn’t figure out what he wanted to say. He felt it was necessary to broach the subject of what had happened outside, but he didn’t want to bring the old man any more shame or embarrassment—both of which Chase was certain he already felt. He just wanted to reassure Pop and make him aware that it didn’t change how Chase felt about him in any way. In the end, it was Jerry himself who bit the bullet and started to speak, taking the pressure off of Chase for the time being.
“I wanted to thank you again for yesterday, Chase,” Jerry started, putting down the cloth that he was using to clean the intricate fan blade. “I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for you.”
“Honestly, Pop,” Chase replied. “Like I said yesterday, I don’t want you to worry about it. I don’t need your thanks—I wasn’t just going to leave you out there.”
“I know,” Jerry paused for a second, trying to sound confident and ignoring the awkward feeling that was rising in his stomach. “But I shouldn’t have been out there in the first place. I know there’s been a lot of chatter about what’s happening to me, but the truth is we don’t really know. It’s a terrible thing that could claim me at any second,” Jerry paused again. “I just want you to know that it’s not the real me. That inside I haven’t changed at all. I still love you very much, Chase.”
“I love you too, Pop,” Chase answered, a faint flush filling his cheeks as he spoke. “And I know. I know you can’t control it and you don’t mean to do that sort of thing. I—I don’t think of you any differently because of it. Neither does Riley. She still loves you too, very much.”
It was a peculiar moment for the two men to share, neither of them particularly good about talking about their feelings. They were both glad it was happening though, Jerry to make sure his grandson was reassured and Chase for the exact same reason. Loving someone—no matter who it was—was always a complicated matter and the declaration of it perhaps wasn’t said enough anymore. They both knew now how the other felt and it made them feel better, even if the exchange passed them by in no more than sixty seconds.
The rest of their time spent down in the basement passed without much else being said. Jerry hummed under his breath, pleased with how the conversation had gone, while Chase tried to empty his mind for a while. Before they knew it, Jenny the generator was all cleaned up and ready for action, the machine looking newer than it had for many years.
“You’ll be very impressed with our work down there, Linda,” Jerry smiled at his wife as he and Chase entered the kitchen. “Cleanest generator I’ve ever seen.”
“Excellent,” Linda smiled. “Thank you both.”
“What’ve you made?” Chase asked, leaning over his sister’s shoulder to look at the strange contraptions they’d created. “How do they work?”
“Aha,” Riley grinned and leaped to her feet, picking one of them up and holding it in front of her face. “Let me model it for you.”
Chase caught his grandma’s eye and saw her wink at him, a twinkle present in her expression. It didn’t take much to realize that she and Riley had chosen the more enjoyable task, even though he had appreciated the talk he’d shared with Pop in the basement. Turning his attention to his younger sister, Chase watched as Riley positioned herself in the mi
ddle of the room, looking very much like an air hostess as she began to model the breathing contraption they had come up with.
“I call this the Re-Breather 3000,” Riley started, giggling at the name she had chosen. “Designed and adapted to allow you to breathe fresh and clean air, no matter where you find yourself.”
Chase sat down at the table and rested his elbows on it, his hands covering his mouth to hide the smirk that crept across his face. He couldn’t help but laugh at the performance his sister was putting on. She’d always had a flair for the dramatic; any excuse to show off and she was the first in line. Grandma Linda smiled beside him, clearly having witnessed this presentation more than once in preparation for the big reveal.
Several prototypes lay discarded on the table in front of them, failed models that all led to the final design. Chase could see elements of them all in what Riley was holding: the finished product. It looked to be made of an old pillowcase or tea towel, combined with some stretchy elastic and some sort of filter. In all honestly, Chase had no idea how it was going to work.
“The first component of the Re-Breather 3000,” Riley continued, “is the inflatable sack.” Proudly, Riley held out the large pillowcase element, stretching it out so that everyone could see its full size. “This acts as the first filter that the air has to travel through, able to hold and process up to ten liters of air at any one time.”
Chase couldn’t help it. A chuckle bubbled out of his mouth and drew his sister’s attention. “Sorry,” he excused himself. “But ten liters? Where have you got that figure from?”
“I made it up,” Riley replied with attitude. “It’s my product. I’m the one that knows the most about it.”
“Fair enough,” Chase laughed and held his hands up in mock surrender. “Please, carry on.”
“Thank you,” Riley quipped back, flicking her hair over her shoulder in a dramatic fashion. “Now, as I was saying: the inflatable sack can hold up to ten liters of air and ensures that every mouthful you breathe is like it’s coming from your own personal oxygen tank. Hidden within it lies the second filter—the next line of defense for your lungs.”
