by E S Richards
“What should we do?”
“I don’t know,” Jerry shook his head; he had been asking himself the same question. “It’s too late to try and go after them. Chase has been gone for hours. They’re likely at the hardware store already.”
“Oh, Riley,” Linda held the letter up in her hand again, nibbling anxiously on her bottom lip. “Why did you have to do this?”
“Hey.” Jerry took his wife’s hand, removing the letter from it and placing it on the kitchen table. “Look at me, Linda. At least they’re together, yeah? Chase will look after her, you know he will. He loves that girl more than anything in the world—he wouldn’t let anything ever hurt her.”
“But he’s just a child himself, Jerry,” Linda wailed in response, her heart breaking all over again as if she were finding Riley’s bed empty for a second time. “He’s only sixteen. We shouldn’t be asking him to take that burden on himself. What if there’s something that he can’t handle. What if something happens to the both of them? Oh my… We need to go after them. We need to go and find them!”
“Linda,” Jerry fought against his wife, trying to keep her seated in the chair while she battled to get to her feet. Just that exertion caused a sweat to break out on his brow, the effort of it all too much for him. “Linda, please,” Jerry begged his wife, unable to hold her back any longer as she pushed herself to her feet and Jerry sank into the chair instead. “I need you here. I need you to stay with me.”
Linda stopped. Turning back and looking at her husband, she found his body sagging in the chair, his chest heaving up and down as he gasped for air. He was weak. Weaker than he’d led her to believe previously and all of this was too much of a strain on him. As much as Linda wanted to go after her grandchildren, deep down she knew they could look after themselves. Jerry, it appeared, could not.
“Jerry.” She pulled up a chair beside her husband, seating herself once more and taking his hand. “Are you okay?”
Jerry nodded, his mouth still too dry to respond but his mind desperate to reassure his wife. He hated himself so much in that moment. Linda was in pain already and she yearned for her grandchildren. He should be the man to take her out into the car and speed down the highway after them. He should be the one to look after her, not the other way around. He was supposed to be making her life easier, not bringing even more suffering and worry into it.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped eventually, feeling his heart rate slowing enough inside his chest to allow him to speak. “I’m not feeling very strong today.”
“Oh, Jerry.” Linda leaned forward and rested her forehead against her husband’s, their faces so close to each other they could make out every tiny detail of the other’s skin. “Why didn’t you tell me things were getting this bad?”
“You’ve got enough on your plate,” Jerry answered honestly. “I didn’t want to worry you.”
“You know I worry every day about you, you big lummox,” Linda sighed. “I thought we’d agreed you were going to talk to me about things like this?”
“I know.” Jerry moved his head down slightly, their foreheads still touching. “I’m sorry. I just,” Jerry paused, knowing there wasn’t any excuse he would give his wife that she would accept, and also aware that none of them would be good enough. “I find it hard to talk about. You know that.”
“I do,” Linda finally leaned back again, removing her face from her husband’s. She lifted a hand to his cheek instead though, cupping it lightly and rubbing her thumb across his skin softly. “But you need to try, Jerry. Especially with all of this going on. I really, really need you to try.”
Jerry closed his eyes. He was ashamed of himself. Only a few days had passed since he and his wife had had a very similar conversation upstairs in the den. They had shared their worries and fears with one another the evening after Jerry had wandered out to the old milking station in the middle of a storm. Back then, Jerry had promised he was going to try harder and be more honest with his wife and already he had broken his promise to her. Once again, he felt like he had let her down. She deserved better than him and all he had done was cause her more stress and heartbreak.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated for the third time, unable to find any words that did justice to how guilty he felt. “I know I’ve said it before, but this time I promise I’ll try. I’ll really, really try. I know we can’t continue on like this.”
“Thank you.” Linda smiled, feeling a slight bit of reassurance from her husband. “I know you need me, Jerry. But I don’t think you understand just how much I need you as well. I can’t do this without you, so I need you to let me help you. Let me share your burden and together, we’ll be able to get through it. We’ve lasted this long; we’re not going to let this break us.”
“Okay.” Jerry nodded, understanding just how much he needed to do this for his wife. “Okay. We can do this. You’re right, Linda. We can get through this together.”
Heaving a huge sigh of relief, Linda finally relaxed into her chair. She could deal with her husband being ill—just barely—so long as he was honest with her. That was a policy she’d always stood for throughout their marriage, and with her children and grandchildren too. Honesty was always the best policy. No matter what. No matter who it hurt or who you thought you were going to upset, in the end the truth was always the best thing to hear and it never hurt as much as being dishonest did. After all her years, Linda was certain of that statement.
“So we wait,” she spoke again after a few minutes of silence between them. “We wait and as planned, they’ll both come back to us this evening.”
“Exactly,” Jerry nodded, reaching over and taking his wife’s hand in his to give it a gentle squeeze. “We wait and when both our grandchildren walk through that door in time for dinner, you’ll be able to give Riley the tongue-lashing that she deserves.”
Linda let out a small chuckle, squeezing her husband’s hand back in return. “We both know that’s not going to happen,” she smiled. “When have I ever been able to tell someone off over something like this? You remember how it always used to happen with Brogan and Mia, don’t you?”
“Aha, I do indeed,” Jerry laughed. “Very well then,” he started to correct himself. “We wait and when both our grandchildren walk through that door in time for dinner, you can give them both a massive hug and relax in the knowledge that our family is safe and everyone is going to be okay. Okay?”
“Okay,” Linda smiled more broadly, appreciating how much her husband was trying to make her feel better. It was working too, for the time being. Though, as the minutes morphed into hours and the morning gave way to lunch time, gave way to afternoon, and then to early evening, Linda’s positive morale gradually faded like the daylight outside until there was very little left.
“They should have been back by now,” she whispered to her husband as the clock in the kitchen ticked to 6:00pm. “Why aren’t they back by now?”
“Just wait,” Jerry said softly, trying to fill his voice with confidence when inside his optimism was hitting a new low. “The weather is horrible outside. Chase is probably just driving slower to be careful. They’ll be back before you know it, just you wait.”
And so they did. Linda and Jerry moved out of the kitchen and into the front room, allowing them a better view of the road and waited. They watched the clouds move, the rain hitting the windowpanes and the occasional bit of debris getting blown against the barn door. They saw everything except the one thing they wanted to see.
As the minutes passed, both Linda and Jerry grew increasingly nervous. They’d spent their whole lives looking after one another and looking after their children and grandchildren and now they both felt like they were failing. More than anything, they desperately, deeply wanted to see the battered old truck driving up to the farmhouse, with Chase and Riley smiling in the front seats.
It was all they wanted, and yet, it was the complete opposite of what they received.
Chapter 18
The atmosphere
among the group was solemn as the small village below Helena Regional Airport finally disappeared from view. Stuart and the others who had lived there hung back slightly, talking among themselves and undoubtedly whispering their final goodbyes. Everyone gave them the space they needed. No one else had been given the luxury of saying their goodbyes, but they were also all hoping to find home again. For Stuart and the rest of them, returning to their home was something they were likely never to do again.
As such, there wasn’t much in the way of conversation within the group. Mia led them—as she always had—in a pre-determined direction that she hoped would steer them clear of further disaster and bring them closer to Route 90. Once they reached the highway, Mia was hoping they’d be able to find a vehicle of some sort to travel by. Walking all the way back to Texas, while technically possible, would take far too long and after what she’d already experienced, Mia didn’t want to take any chances delaying her return home.
She had her doubts about the working condition of vehicles, knowing how the volcanic ash could disrupt the engines or even crush the vehicles themselves if it was dense enough. But, regardless, Mia knew it was something they had to try. Now that the group was even bigger as well, they could only move as quickly as the slowest person. Currently that was Miles, the youngest member of the group who, while resilient, could only move as fast as his little legs could carry him.
“Hola, Mia,” Jorge’s voice lingered in the air beside Mia, the Spaniard having caught up to her within their group. “Que pasa?”
Mia turned to look at her companion. She had barely shared any time with him since leaving the airport, and especially not since they arrived in the village. Lizzie had been a handful that Jorge had grasped early on, one Mia couldn’t deny she was curious to discover more about.
“Hey,” she smiled at him. Despite all her reservations about Jorge, he was still her closest friend among the group. “Are you all right?”
“Si,” Jorge smiled back. “What about you?”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” Mia shrugged, unsure whether that was an accurate description of how she felt but unwilling to share much more. Honestly, she couldn’t remember the last time that she was truly okay, but what else was she supposed to say? She was quite clearly the leader of the group and in that position, she had to remain strong and provide the guidance needed to others. A leader was not someone who could break down the second they were asked if they were doing all right.
“I see Michael and Angelica didn’t want to leave.”
The question hit Mia like a knife in the back. She was sure Jorge hadn’t intended it to, but the way he’d asked the question made it sound like Mia herself had personally failed in convincing them. The insinuation stung whether it had been meant to or not, and Mia couldn’t help the words that shot from her mouth in reply, her ego bruised and aching from what had already transpired back in the small village.
“I see Lizzie didn’t either?” she blurted out, her fists involuntarily clenching by her sides. “Couldn’t you convince her during your night together?”
Jorge faltered, not expecting that kind of response from his friend. “Mia,” he spoke softly, “I didn’t mean to offend you. I wish they could all be with us now. It is a great shame that anyone had to stay behind.”
“Well no one really had to,” Mia mused, though her mind wandered to Michael’s mother. She would’ve definitely been unable to make this walk—but if she’d really wanted to come, Mia was sure they could’ve found a way to manage it. “I think it’s foolish that so many stayed.”
“I agree,” Jorge replied, keeping his voice low so Stuart, Deb, Miles and his father couldn’t hear what they were talking about. “I tried to convince Lizzie; I really did. But she just wouldn’t listen. She…” Jorge paused, uncertain whether he should say what he was about to. “She was already sick,” he admitted.
“What?” Mia questioned in surprise. She hadn’t been expecting to hear that from Jorge, her perceptions of the woman they had left behind apparently all wrong. “How do you mean?”
“She had dirt in her lungs,” Jorge replied. “She told me all about it overnight, asking me to bring Billy with us and take care of him. She was truly suffering. I don’t think she has many days left.”
“Wow,” Mia replied with a shake of her head. “I had no idea.”
“Her son is the most important thing to her,” Jorge replied matter-of-factly. “She didn’t want to put him in any more danger. Even if that meant staying behind while he left.”
“I can’t believe it,” Mia exhaled. “That poor woman.”
Nodding, Jorge raised his right hand and touched his forehead with his fingertips, then the center of his chest and both his shoulders, mapping out a cross. “We did what we could,” he spoke softly. “How long do you think they’ll all have?”
“I’m not sure,” Mia calculated. “Could be a week, could be a month. It depends what kills them first. It could be even longer, I suppose. I don’t know how much clean water they have to keep themselves going and from then, I don’t know whether people will have the willpower not to drink the dirty stuff or whether they’ll give in to temptation. Dehydration messes with your head. I’ve heard of even the strongest people breaking down from it. They say the thirst it leaves you with is more powerful than any other desire.”
“Wow,” Jorge replied, uncomfortable with the thought of the people they had left behind succumbing to that. It wasn’t their choice though, he had to remind himself. They had tried to save everyone as best they could. You can’t save people who don’t want to be saved.
The conversation between the two of them fizzled out after that and Mia was left alone with her thoughts once again. The path they were walking flattened somewhat and made the journey easier underfoot, signs of tiredness already appearing among some of the group. Mia looked behind her to see Patrick half-dragging his daughter along behind him, Allie’s feet heavy and getting caught on the uneven ground. While Allie had started off the morning in high spirits, throwing sticks for Deb’s dog, Corker, that enthusiasm had only lasted so long and now not only Allie trailed behind the group, but Corker too.
In the distance, Mia could see a battered collection of buildings. It looked like a farm of some description and so would be the perfect place for them to stop for some lunch. Hopefully food would perk everyone up and fill them with enough energy for the long afternoon. There were many more miles that Mia wanted to cover before they called it a night.
As they gradually drew closer to the farm, Mia started to notice the effects that Yellowstone eruption had had on it. The crops were wilted and dying, a thin layer of dirty ash coating each and every one of them. To try and harvest them now would be foolish, the toxins from the ash likely having done more than just dirtying the appearance of the plants.
The closer they walked to the epicenter of the farm, the more heart-wrenching the volcanic effects became. Mia worried about the children in their group as even her stomach turned as she walked past the fields of death. The stench was unavoidable; equally so was the sight. The farm had quite clearly been in full, working condition before Yellowstone erupted. Animals still occupied the fields, though their bodies were still and their lives taken from them.
It was horrible. Each field that they passed was the same. More and more dead animals lined the narrow path that they walked, making a beeline for the buildings despite Mia already regretting her decision. It was obvious the place had once been a pig farm. After they passed one field of cows, the pigs were unavoidable. Their bodies had dried up in the sun and their skin looked leathery and old, wrinkles appearing like those that surfaced after spending too long in the bathtub.
Up close, there was no obvious cause of death, but Mia could make an educated guess. Inhalation of volcanic ash. The animals would’ve had no way to know what was happening, nor save themselves from it. Whether it was the poisonous toxins within the ash, or the dirty particles that lacerated their lungs, however the animals di
ed wouldn’t have been a pleasant death. In their final moments, you could tell that even the pigs were seeking comfort from each other. Their bodies didn’t cover the field in a random pattern, instead grouped together to provide a shred of safety in their final moments.
“Daddy,” Allie whimpered just behind Mia, her voice soft and frightened. “I don’t like this.”
“I know, sweetheart,” was all Patrick could think to say to his daughter. “I’m sorry.”
Their group picked up their pace as they traipsed silently through the fields of death. All of them tried not to look but it was almost impossible not to—human curiosity got the better of each and every one of them. On top of that, Mia was forced to think about her family. Her parents lived on a farm—not that it was in working condition, but there were still crops and animals that they relied on. That was where Chase and Riley were too. How badly had Houston been hit by the effects of the eruption? Were all of their crops destroyed and their animals dying? Mia thought of the chickens and cows Riley had given funny names to. She couldn’t stand to picture them lying dead on the ground, their bodies rotting away in the sun.
She knew her family was resilient, but dealing with normal family troubles and dealing with a supervolcanic eruption were two very different things. Her father hadn’t been in very good health for several months now. Mia wasn’t even sure that her mother had made her aware of the extent of the problems with her dad.
