by Joe Nobody
The commander had to admit, the older man was probably right. He didn’t feel good, and his damn hands wouldn’t stop trembling.
Jack staggered into the living room and found the couch. He sat on the edge, wondering if he should try to lie down. “That’s not going to work,” he soon whispered to the night. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep. His mind started running wild with “what if,” scenarios that included the intruders catching him in the deepest slumber.
He thoughts continued in a loop, running through the events of the battle, his mind working every shot, flash, thump and ping, over and over again. A noise sounded from the back porch, sending him with a start to his feet, the rifle coming up in preparation to fight. It was only Archie disposing of the corpse, the rancher’s frame showing outlined in the candlelight.
“Relax. Calm down, son. You’re going to shoot me by mistake; I can just see it. Those yahoos are long gone. I followed one of their tracks quite a piece, both footprints and a blood trail. Looks like we got the third one pretty good. If there were more than three of ‘em, they’re long gone, probably still running after seeing their friends cut to bits. We’re okay … for now.”
Still, Jack couldn’t settle down. He found himself pacing, moving from window to window, unable to remain in any one spot for long. Archie didn’t say anything, taking a seat at the table after using an old rag to mop up what he could of the blood on the floor.
Finally, after more than two hours, the adrenaline dump began to work its way out of Jack’s system. In only a few minutes, he transitioned from a bundle of nervous energy to yawning and stretching with exhaustion. The commander decided he should lie down and soon was prone in his sleeping bag.
“You act like a man who’s had a little too much excitement as of late,” the older man calmly observed.
“You could say that again,” Jack exhaled. “Despite being a military officer, I never expected to do this much fighting up close and personal. I feel … I don’t know … guilty or something. It’s like eating me up inside.”
“You did good, son. The pain and doubt you’re feeling will fade. I hate to say it, but I know that from experience. My first time, I vomited for an hour and wanted to kill myself. It will pass, and while I’m a little ashamed to admit it, it gets easier.”
“What have we become?” Jack asked, his voice distant and low.
“Survivors. The fittest. The smartest. The luckiest. Hell, I don’t know. I’m not wise enough to figure it all out. I never have been and probably never will be. What I do know is that in the morning, you’ll be glad it’s you sipping a cup of coffee, and not the guy lying dead on the ground.”
Archie blew out the candle but remained seated. “I’m going to watch and listen for a while. You go ahead and rest,” the rancher simply responded.
Jack woke with a start, initially wondering if the previous night had all been a nightmare. The bloodstain on the kitchen floor answered that question.
Archie was already awake and alert, the rancher washing his hands with the bucket water. “We need to get moving. I’m going to burn those bodies from last night, and we don’t want to be around in case the smoke draws other visitors.”
Jack didn’t say it, but he didn’t want to be around period.
Toying with a package of stale crackers from the vending machine, the commander managed to roll up his sleeping bag and repack his gear without too much pain. “You’re mending,” he whispered. “Getting stronger every day. You’re going to make it.”
An hour later, with a column of black smoke on the horizon behind them, Jack and Archie hiked back onto the main road and headed toward the rancher’s home.
They traveled almost another mile, Archie tugging his cart, Jack walking with his carbine slung on his shoulder. Visions of dead Eagles, the guy on the freeway, and the men from the previous evening flashed through Jack’s mind, looping over and over again. Finally, the commander spoke. “When was your first time?”
A grunt was the initial answer, Mr. Bell continuing in silence for several steps. Finally, he cleared his throat and began. “Must have been two or three weeks after the volcano erupted. The electricity had gone out three, maybe four days before. Everybody knew it wasn’t coming back on. By that time, even if you had gasoline or diesel, your engine wouldn’t run. Air filters clogged in 10 minutes, sometimes less.”
Jack waited, knowing the story would continue when Archie was ready.
“The locals had been gathering down at the coffee shop. Martial law meant there wasn’t anything on television or the radio – even if we had batteries to listen. People were heating water for java on an outdoor fire … it was all they had left. Some of them tried to get home, ignoring the Pentagon’s orders to shelter in place. The roads were supposed to be closed, but there weren’t any highway patrol cars around to enforce the detainment. Other folks trapped out on the road seemed content to sit and wait it out. Rumors were flying all over the place. Food riots here and there, chunks of pumice falling on St. Louis that were the size of softballs. The local sheriff’s deputies didn’t know any more than the rest of us. Everybody was edgy. Nerves were getting really, really frayed.”
Archie stopped his march just then, shrugging his shoulders out of the leather harness and taking a drink of water. He turned to face Jack, and the commander recognized the pain and intense emotion lingering behind the older man’s eyes.
“I was bringing down avocados from my place, carrying them by the wheelbarrow full. Those poor souls down at the coffee shop were starving, scared out of their wits, and beginning to get angry. I had plenty of fruit back at my place. No way I could eat it all before it rotted. It just seemed like the right thing to do. Anyway, after a few weeks, two men approached me. They wanted to know where I was getting the food. I didn’t figure it was any of their business and told them so in no uncertain words.” The older man sighed before he continued his saga. “But … they wanted to fight.”
Jack could see it, almost knew where the story was going.
Seeming to read his thoughts, Archie got defensive. “I know it sounds like I was naïve, but there were women and children stuck down there. People were sleeping in the shop’s booths and on the floor. I just couldn’t let them all starve. We all were expecting help to come … the electricity to come back on … the National Guard to roll in. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. It was a fool’s endeavor. My little contribution of daily calories was like trying to wash a car with a roll of toilet paper – I expended a lot of energy and just made a bigger mess of things.”
“I didn't think you were naïve, Archie. I can just see where this is going. I’ve already learned that in this world, no good deed goes unpunished.”
Nodding, the rancher seemed to accept Jack’s explanation. He continued, “When these two sphincter warts started trouble, most of the people at the truck stop came to my defense. The lady who ran the place even warned them, ‘That man won’t come back if you cause problems.’ And she was right. Like I said, I’ve never been a brave man, but I’m not going to be pushed around either.”
“Let me guess,” Jack said. “They followed you home.”
“Yes,” Archie responded, nodding again. “I wasn’t paying attention and didn’t bother to cover my tracks or keep an eye out over my shoulder. To this day, I don’t know what they were thinking. Maybe they didn’t believe they were getting their fair share. Perhaps they thought I was hoarding other food. Who knows? Nobody had a clear head back then.”
“Just two of them?” Jack inquired.
“Yes. They jumped me out by the barn. One of them had a pistol, the other a baseball bat. Some little voice inside me had been sounding a warning. I was carrying my one and only firearm – this rifle. Still, they managed to quite a bit of damage to this old body of mine. I was laid up for over a week.”
“And what happened to the people at the coffee shop?”
Archie shook his head, obviously disgusted. “I went b
ack down there, oh, must have been 15 days later. I found several bodies, including the owner who had taken pity on everyone. It looked like to me they had turned on each other. Some folks had evidently wandered off; others were lying there rotting. I never went back.”
Before Jack could comment, Archie was again wiggling into his harness. “We better get moving,” he said, an obvious signal that his story was over.
They turned off the main road, entering a path that wound its way up into the foothills. Cisco couldn’t see any homestead, but the first row of dead fruit trees was plainly visible from the road.
It was a pathetic sight, the once luscious greenery now shriveled and brown. There were no leaves, and even the branches looked dead and barren.
“We’ve got less than a mile to go, Commander. But it’s all uphill. You feeling okay?”
Smiling, Jack replied, “Good to go, Mr. Bell. A fine morning for a walk, I say. A nice day to take in the air.”
Archie gave the commander a look that questioned whether or not the naval officer had a screw coming loose, but didn’t say anything.
The incline was much steeper than it looked, Jack’s legs beginning to burn in short order. He had to admit, he was certainly glad Archie was the one pulling the cart.
They stopped again a short time later, the rancher calling for a break. “Let’s take 10. My old knees are complaining. We’re almost there.”
A short time later, the duo rounded a bend, and Archie’s residence came into view.
It was a gorgeous place, a single story adobe nestled in the hills. Jack spied the Spanish architecture, rounded corners and the red tile roof, or as least hints of red peeking out from the ever-present covering of grey and white ash.
The commander also noticed the burned-out frame of what had been a very large barn. As they grew closer, a complex of greenhouses came into view.
“This is one hell of a nice spread,” Jack told his companion. “I can only imagine how gorgeous it was before this volcanic snow covered everything.”
“When those developers bought my land that bordered the interstate, I decided to build my dream house. Before everything went to hell, my greenhouses were the envy of every rancher between here and LA. After I had finished those, I decided I might need a roof over my own head.”
Jack laughed at the jest but then considered that his new friend might not be teasing. Archie’s wink set the record straight.
“So you believe there’s something in the water that is killing all the plant life?” Jack asked, his gaze taking in row after row of lifeless avocado trees.
Pointing at his now barren orchard, Archie shook his head. “The outside vegetation died from the cold. They can’t survive consistent temperatures below freezing, and when the ash was the thickest, we were well below that mark several nights in a row. My seedlings, however, died despite the greenhouse’s warmth keeping them alive. The only thing I have left are the plants I was nurturing with spring water.”
Jack was shown into an expansive, open concept home that fit perfectly with its southwestern surroundings. Spanish tile, stone countertops, and a palette of desert colors provided a warm, inviting theme. It was easy to see why Archie was proud of his hacienda.
“Come on, I’ll show you my pride and joy … or at least what used to be the emerald of my operation,” Archie invited.
The duo left the main house and after a short walk entered the closest greenhouse.
The first thing the commander noticed was the temperature inside was several degrees warmer than the cold mountain air they had been trudging through all morning. Jack was even more astonished by the smell.
It dawned on the commander how long it had been since he’d experienced the aroma of green, growing things. The scent was a combination of rich, earthy soil, fresh citrus, and thriving life. Several months on a sub, followed by inhaling the dead, pumice-laced air of the post-Yellowstone environment hadn’t provided any opportunity to stop and smell the roses. And what roses they were.
Jack was amazed at the sweetness in the air, the sensation nearly overwhelming in its refreshing warmth. It touched some inner portion of his humanity, refreshing his soul with a reminder that he was still an animal and part of nature’s ecosystem. “This is … I don’t know what to.… Wow!” was all the naval officer could muster.
Grunting, Archie pointed toward the back of the oddly shaped, glass building. “I used to have 20 times this number of seedlings, plus a few rows dedicated to my own vegetable garden. Now, what you see here is all I can keep alive, and it’s breaking my back to haul the water for just this handful of plants. All of my traditional greenhouses collapsed, leaving me only the geodome hothouses standing since their design sheds the ash better.”
The rancher then marched to the far side of the interior, eyeing a row of plants that was bearing fruit. With a keen eye, he reached under one of the bushy clusters of foliage and produced a baseball-sized tomato of the deepest red. “Here,” he said, handing the sample to Jack. “Sample a smidge of pure heaven.”
Again, Jack’s senses were stunned. He’d never tasted anything so good, nor had he ever bitten into a tomato that had the consistency of an apple. The commander’s taste buds savored every morsel, chewing slowly and regretting the need to swallow.
“This is amazing, Archie. I’ve never tasted anything like this,” he managed between bites. “No wonder those two hooligans followed you home.”
“I could grow a lot more,” the rancher bragged. “With the greenhouse effect, they’ll flourish even in the lower light. I just need to figure out how to get water from the spring. Look at them … I’ve only been gone a few days, and already they’re wilting.”
“Can you grow enough to keep yourself alive?”
Nodding, Archie responded, “Yes, but barely. I don’t know for how long, though. After we have a chance to rest and eat, I’ll show you what’s involved in watering my babies.”
The two men chewed and rested for an hour. Then Archie announced it was time to fetch the water.
He led Jack to the back of the nearest greenhouse, where the older man hefted a pole to sit across his shoulders. On each end was a five-gallon bucket. “I saw this on TV once,” he noted. “I don’t remember what country the documentary was covering, but people were carrying heavy loads using a pole like this across their shoulders. It works pretty well. Besides, I can carry my rifle in one hand while balancing the load. You just never know.”
They headed along a path up into the higher elevations. The commander, toting his own carbine, studied the surroundings as they climbed, trying to visualize what the area would have looked like before the grey cover that now made everything seem so dismal and foreboding.
After 20 minutes, Jack’s legs were burning, and he wasn’t even carrying any water yet. “At least it’s downhill when the buckets are full,” he mumbled.
“Not really,” Archie chuckled. “Wait, you’ll see what I mean.”
Not long after, they approached a small canyon, the exposed faces consisting of bare, sharp-looking rocks. Archie lead them down, the trail using switchbacks as it descended into the floor below. “We have to come back up that?” Jack asked as they neared the bottom.
“Yes,” came the dreaded reply.
Halfway across the base of the canyon gurgled the small brook. It didn’t look like much of a water source, more like a light trickle that seeped up from below the earth. Bell had constructed a small shed over the tiny stream’s source to keep ash from polluting the only fresh water around.
Inside the crude structure, Jack discovered a rock-walled pond not much larger than the typical household bathtub and about as deep.
Standing on the small, wooden platform, the rancher dipped his buckets into the clear water. Jack did the math quickly. Water weighed just over eight pounds per gallon. Archie intended to carry nearly 100 pounds back along the trail.
“Ten gallons per day is enough to keep my few plants green and me hydrated. But if I ever e
xpect to attract a female, I have to make two trips to bathe and rinse out my underwear.”
Jack decided he needed to contribute to the effort and volunteered to take the first leg. “Suit yourself,” Archie shrugged with a sly grin.
Hefting the full buckets and pole onto his shoulders, Jack had to admit it was a lot easier to carry than he anticipated – at least until they started climbing.
Halfway up the canyon, the commander’s legs began to cramp. “See what I mean?” Archie teased, offering to take the load.
“No problem. I’m training for the Olympics,” Cisco countered, not wanting to be shown up by a man nearly twice his age.
At the apex of the trail, Jack was sure his lower back would never be the same. He calves burned with the fire of exertion. His shoulders were completely numb, and he entertained the idea of a little excursion to that seedy massage parlor next to the coffee shop back east. Still, the naval officer wouldn’t surrender the load. “Oh, my God, we made it,” he declared, sighing deeply as he exhaled the words. “It’s downhill now,” he noted.
“That helps a little,” Archie chuckled, knowing good and well that his new friend was suffering badly. “But it’s by no means a casual stroll in the hills.”
Indeed, Jack found that while he was using different muscles on the descent, they still hurt like hell, cramping and grumbling like the rest of his musculoskeletal system. “How do you make this trip every day?” he asked, finally having to sit down the obnoxious buckets and wanting badly to empty out his carbine’s magazine into each of the torture devices. The two men weren’t even halfway back to the greenhouse yet.
“Because I’m scared to die,” Archie replied. “That can motivate a man to tolerate a lot of nastiness and pain.”
They finally reached the ranch, Jack having little doubt that he would sleep well that night. He couldn’t remember being so exhausted, even though Archie had carried the buckets the final distance.
Still, the commander wanted to contribute to the work effort. “Carefully fill each of those watering cans over there,” the rancher gestured with his head. “I know I don’t have to say this, but every last bit is critical.”
