Accepting that as a possible scenario made it easy to go a step farther. And to consider the possibility they were so injured they’d be hospitalized for a time.
Perhaps they’d have amnesia and wouldn’t remember how to contact Jenn. Maybe they wouldn’t remember their own names.
Maybe they’d languish in the hospital for weeks or months while Jenn and the kids gave up on them. Assumed they were dead. Held a memorial service and grieved for them.
Maybe upon their release they’d take up residence near the hospital. Maybe they’d make it their new home, because they didn’t have a clue where their old one was.
Maybe they’d live the rest of their lives together, but separated from everyone else they ever loved.
And didn’t know any better.
Jenn wondered whether that might be a tragedy worse than death.
Then she thought no. It would be a good thing.
Certainly not better than a scenario which would call for a joyful homecoming.
But at least they’d be alive.
For a moment she considered sharing her epiphany with Samson.
Then she thought better of it.
Like a worm in her brain, now that the thought was there it would annoy her forever should they not come home.
She’d not let it haunt Samson as well.
“Let’s give them a couple of weeks,” she said. “If they’re not home by then, or if they haven’t contacted us, I’ll talk to Pastor Murray about doing a service for them.”
Her words saddened young Sam. But at least now he had a defined timeline to work with.
And something to pray for each night for the next couple of weeks.
Chapter 27
Jenn moved on to Meadow’s room.
Meadow seemed to take it harder than anyone else in the family.
She was the oldest of the kids, and therefore by default knew Nana and Grandpa the longest.
Longer than her siblings, anyway.
Jenn understood that and gave her plenty of lead when Meadow said all she wanted was some quiet time. She wanted to be alone in her thoughts.
Jenn worried about Meadow when she retreated to her bedroom for hours at a time.
But people grieve in their own way. Some seek the solace of others; many prefer time to themselves.
For days now, since they heard the crack of the explosion in the distance, she’d preferred the silence of her bedroom to the soft whispers and embraces of her loved ones.
The only one she allowed into her sanctuary was her dog Penny Fourpaws.
Jenn knocked on her door.
“Who is it?”
Jenn cracked the door and asked if she was okay.
Penny took the opportunity to wedge her long snout into the gap and pushed the door open so she could waddle through it.
It had been a while since her last potty break and she needed to go.
Penny was restricted from going outside just like everyone else. Jenn put puppy pads on the floor of the utility room, as it was one of the few rooms in the house which wasn’t carpeted.
Penny didn’t like going inside the house. It went against her grain and confused her. Why did her humans go through all the trouble of housebreaking her just to change their minds later on?
It made no sense to her, but she didn’t waste a lot of time trying to see their logic. She just accepted that humans are nowhere near as smart as dogs and left it at that.
Meadow’s face was red. Her eyes were puffy and moist.
Jenn held her close.
Meadow had always been her rock. When Jenn was having a bad day it was Meadow who’d always stepped up. Made sure her siblings got their homework done. Cooked them dinner. Made sure they got to bed on time.
She took pride in knowing her mom knew she was capable and tough.
And she, like her mom and her mom’s mom before her, hated to show weakness. Rocki hated for anyone to see her cry, and would run and hide to avoid it if possible.
Rocki’s dad was a United States Marine, you see, and the toughest man she ever knew.
Even tougher than Darrell.
Showing weakness in Rocki’s house when she was growing up just wasn’t tolerated.
It was an unwritten rule.
If someone had a problem they couldn’t deal with on their own it was acceptable to ask for help.
But one didn’t cry about it.
That unwritten rule was one Rocki’s dad passed down to her, but it was far from the only one.
Always leave a room brighter and happier than you found it.
Try to find the humor and good in everything you do.
Always leave a campground cleaner than you found it. Chop a few extra logs to leave behind for the next camper.
Always follow the camper’s code.
Help others every chance you get, but expect nothing from others.
Always find a kind word for anyone you encounter.
And always keep a folded five dollar bill in your back pocket, for you never knew when you might encounter someone who really needed one.
There were a lot of things Rocki’s dad passed down to her, and which she passed on to her own children.
Regardless of their lot in life, regardless of the health issues fate dealt them, her children followed the rules as best they could, and made sure their own children did as well.
Jenn wasn’t surprised to see that Meadow had been crying.
Nor was she surprised that Meadow tried to hide it by burying her face in her pillow.
“Don’t ever hide your face,” her mom told her. “Remember what your Nana always said. You’re far too pretty a girl to hide your face. Pretty things and pretty faces should be treasured, not hidden away where nobody can see them.”
“Still no word from Nana and Grandpa?”
“No, honey. If I get word you’ll be the first to know, I promise.”
“Even if the news is bad?”
“Yes, honey. No sense hanging on to bad news. It doesn’t get any better as it ages.”
“I miss them, Momma.”
“Momma” was a term Meadow had always used when she was frightened or lonely, since she was a tiny thing.
In recent years she’d used it less and less.
She was more woman than child now, and thought using the term made her appear weak and childish.
Nothing could be farther from the truth though, at least as far as her mom was concerned.
It might make her look just a bit vulnerable, perhaps struggling just a bit.
But the name took Jenn back to good times, when she used to rock Meadow to sleep at night, to read her a book until she started softly snoring, then to carry her to her bed and tuck her in.
As far as Jenn was concerned she could call her “Momma” anytime and every time, until the day she died.
There were no words which could make her oldest feel better. Nothing that could make her less sad.
They embraced on the side of the bed, gently rocking back and forth, until Penny reappeared at their feet and jumped up once again to Meadow ’s side.
“You coming down for dinner, honey?”
“Yes. Just give me a minute to get myself together so Autumn and Sam don’t make fun of me for crying.”
“They won’t, honey. I promise you they won’t.”
“If they do, can I have your permission to pound them?”
She smiled, and it was the same to Jenn as the morning sun peeking over the horizon and sharing its light everywhere.
“No, honey. If they do I’ll pound them for you.”
Chapter 28
Darrell and Rocki trudged along, a bit more discouraged each day.
The highway twisted and turned and ran through the foothills of the nearby mountain range.
This was the land of hills and valleys for miles on end.
Each time they crested a hill they got their hopes up.
They didn’t want to, for they knew they were merely setting themselves
up for constant disappointment.
But they couldn’t help themselves. They were hardcore optimists, both of them. They’d been that way all their lives.
There were other times in the past when their optimism caused them problems.
But nothing like this time.
When they drove toward Yellowstone as it seemed every other creature within a thousand miles was running away from it, they didn’t worry at all.
They took it on faith the volcano wouldn’t blow until they’d finished their task and made their getaway. They just didn’t fathom the possibility it wouldn’t wait for them; that it would have the unmitigated gall to erupt while they were in the danger zone.
It almost killed them.
It still probably would, for they were quickly running out of food and water and there seemed no relief in sight.
Still, they didn’t learn their lesson, for they were as stubborn and pigheaded as they were optimistic.
As they neared the crest of a hill Rocki mused, “Do you think there’s a 7-Eleven past the crest?
“I sure could use a large slurpee about now.”
“I’ll just bet there is, honey. And I’ll bet they’re still open and have their grill fired up so we can eat hot dogs instead of MREs.
Of course they knew better.
But they couldn’t let go of the dream, and tried to talk themselves into it anyway.
The uphill climb winded them and they stopped to rest.
Rocki drank the last of a bottle of water, then placed it back into the backpack.
Even though the park would never be the same again, and it likely wouldn’t be enjoyed by tourists again for decades, she still couldn’t bring herself to discard the empty bottle on the ugly gray ground.
It just wasn’t her.
As she placed the empty inside her pack she counted the full ones still inside.
Three.
They’d be gone by the end of the day.
Then what?
She honestly didn’t know.
But Darrell had an idea.
Or rather an observation.
“Honey,” he said. “Look down there where that patch of flattened pine trees are, on the left side of the highway.”
He pointed and she followed his finger to the general area he was looking at.
“Okay, I’ll play your silly game, bucko. Exactly what am I looking for?”
“See those big boulders about halfway through the fallen trees? A huge brown boulder and two smaller gray ones?”
“Okay, I see them.”
“Look at the space between the two smaller boulders.”
“I don’t see anything.”
“Wait for it. It’s intermittent.”
She watched the space for five seconds.
She almost told him he was seeing things, then saw a small flash of light between the boulders.
“I saw it, I saw it.”
“Good. I thought I might be going crazy.”
“But what was it?”
“I don’t know, honey. But at the rate we’ve been traveling we should find out in a couple of hours.
“Maybe sooner, since it’s all downhill between here and there.”
There it was once again, the eternal optimism.
A couple of minutes earlier they’d been beat and desperately wanted to rest.
Now they were like two little kids on a playground. They were suddenly full of boundless energy.
If the ash wasn’t up over their ankles they might have sprinted down the hill.
They’d never learn, these two. They were hurrying down the hill expecting a treasure.
And in all likelihood they saw an empty beer can tossed there by a careless traveler, reflecting an occasional ray of sunlight.
Rocki and Darrell were strong Christians, though their fate had been tested of late like everyone else’s. As they went along at a slightly faster pace than they’d managed since they left the mangled RV, Rocki started reciting the 91st Psalm… the protection psalm.
“He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you shall take refuge; His truth shall be your shield and buckler.
“You shall not be afraid of the terror by night, nor of the arrow that flies by day.
“Nor of the pestilence that walks in darkness, nor of the destruction that lays waste at noonday…”
Darrell’s memory had been failing him in recent years.
He no longer knew the 91st Psalm by memory.
Or the Lord’s Prayer either, for that matter.
Moreover, Darrell was a man of few words. He preferred things as simple as possible, and that applied to his speaking as well as everything else he did.
While Rocki recited the psalm, Darrell turned his face skyward and said, “Lord, you’ve dealt us a pretty tough hand this time. We need your help to get through this one. If you’ve a mind to, we sure would appreciate it if you’d cut us some slack.”
He turned back to the road in front of him for just a few seconds before he realized he forgot something.
He looked up again and said, “Oh, yeah. Amen.”
Chapter 29
Wayne Hamlin parked the rented Mercedes in front of the house at Kalkturmstrasse 41B, just off the Centrum in Wittlich.
He’d forgotten how steep and winding the B-50 highway was as it cut a swath through the heavy woods.
And how the logging trucks seldom gave right of way to little piss ant cars that had the nerve to get in their way.
At least it wasn’t wintertime.
Had the narrow and winding road been icy and slick it would have made the drive even more treacherous.
But the weather was absolutely perfect.
Hans Grubel answered the door and greeted his friends warmly on the stoop.
“Elyse is still at the markt,” he said with some regret. She should be back shortly, or we can go find her and help her carry back the groceries.”
Julie looked at Wayne and said, “You know what? We’ve been sitting all darned day. At the airports, on the flight over, in the car from Frankfurt. I’d really love to stretch my legs.”
“Say no more. You read my mind perfectly.”
Hans said, “Let’s get your luggage upstairs and lock up and we’ll be on our way.”
Elyse was like most German housewives.
She had two old canvas shopping bags she carried to the markt every day or two.
And she only bought enough for one or two meals.
It was the German way, borne partly out of necessity because Germany is a very small nation with a rapidly expanding population. There simply isn’t enough real estate to allow for sprawling mansions.
Or sprawling kitchens either, for that matter.
Another reason is the way German towns are laid out.
The Centrum, or city center, is more or less in the center of town.
Just like its name implies. Duh.
Around the Centrum are the residential streets. Industrial parks and factories are typically on the town’s outskirts.
As a result of the layout the shops that make up the “markt”: the bakeries, the butcher shops, the produce wagons, are typically within easy walking distance of the hundreds of homes which surround the Centrum.
People walk because it’s healthy, for one thing.
Also because it’s far less hassle than pulling the car out of the garage, driving for three blocks and then fighting for an available parking space.
And contrary to the grumblings of Americans who’ve trained themselves never to walk more than a few feet when there’s a perfectly good car around, it works quite well, thank you very much.
A carved wooden sign greeted them at the entrance to the Centrum:
WILLKOMMEN IN WITTLICH
Welcome to Wittlich.
They found Elyse walking out of the apothecary, or the drug store.
She hugged Julie and began to cry.
“We were so worried,” she sobbed. “We were convinced you wo
uldn’t make it out alive.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t have worried about Wayne,” Julie said. “They say that only the good die young. If that’s true then Wayne will live forever.”
“You’re just jealous because I still know how to have fun. I’m not old and stodgy like you are.”
She stuck her tongue out at him.
He was right. He did know how to have fun.
But he wasn’t the only one.
The whole Yellowstone thing had kept him hopping in recent months.
But indications were it was over for the time being.
The eruption wasn’t as powerful or as dramatic as he’d expected, and therefore a second eruption was a definite possibility.
But early indications were that activity within the caldera was calming down.
The pressure was released, or at least most of it was. It had vented to the stage a second eruption was unlikely.
It was way too early to say for sure, but it appeared the worst was over.
From their vantage point at the edge of the Centrum the four of them looked skyward.
The sky to the west had been slowly darkening for days.
Meteorologists didn’t expect any ash fall in western Europe. But millions of metric tons of ash blasted high into the atmosphere likely wouldn’t fall back to earth for months.
In the meantime the ash-heavy air would cause havoc all around the world.
It would increase the wear and tear on airplane engines, as the dirty air wouldn’t move as efficiently through the turbine blades.
It would likely change weather patterns, as the air would be heavier. Currents would move slower. Storm fronts would linger longer.
Hurricanes, they hoped, would be less severe, because their winds wouldn’t be able to get up to the high speeds they needed to become category fours and fives.
At least that was the theory.
The last time the atmosphere had been this heavy with dust and ash particles no one was around to take notes.
Much of it, therefore, was speculation and guesswork.
Eventually late summer rains would cleanse the atmosphere. Humidity would help by making the particles heavy and more prone to start their slow downward descent to the earth.
The Yellowstone Event: Book 6: The Aftermath Page 9
