by Ellis, Tara
He'd barely been able to finish his dinner, and once the children began their evening rituals of games and baths, Masimba slipped outside. He was restless. Ever since the indescribable sound startled them all at one-thirty that afternoon, he’d felt off.
That was six hours ago and was still the main source of conversation amongst his extended family. They shared three houses on the farm: Masimba, his brother, and cousin. Between them they had nine children, two parents, a couple of great aunts, and six dogs.
It was perfect.
Masimba Mutsipa was a communal maize farmer in a remote region of the landlocked country of Zimbabwe. While he was nowhere near what most would consider wealthy, he was able to provide his family with everything they needed, including a car and higher education once his children were older. His hands were proof of the honest work he did every day. By being humble, and never asking for more than the land was willing to give, he believed it would allow them to have a safe and comfortable home.
A dog barked from the porch some distance behind him and in the silence that followed, there was a heaviness. Masimba pivoted away from the corn and turned his attention to the forested hills. He sensed danger in the unnatural stillness, the wilderness was rich with predators, including lions and leopards. As the silence continued, the lifelong farmer knew with every fiber of his being that something was coming. Something unseen and supernatural, heralded in by the trumpeting in the sky.
His brother was certain it had been nothing more than an earthquake. His uncle guessed it was probably the Calcubo volcano in Chile erupting again, which would also explain the spectacular sunset they’d had a couple hours earlier. They were secluded in the valley, with limited views to the east and west. It was difficult to determine if his uncle was correct, though the color of the sky continued to change throughout the afternoon. Even the weather was off, which could also be attributed to an eruption. Warm winds eventually blew through the valley, heavy with an unusual amount of gritty dust that forced them to close windows on the houses.
As Masimba stood there in the absence of any of the normal forest and savanna sounds, he wished he had insisted on driving to town for news, the way he’d wanted to. Instead, he’d agreed to stay and finish preparing for the harvest, and would make the journey in the morning.
“Masimba!” a woman hissed.
Masimba jumped at the harsh whisper of his name, causing his wife to laugh at him. Just the sight of his wife would normally be enough to ease the worst of his moods, but that evening it only intensified the overpowering need to protect her.
“What are you doing out here?” he barked, wondering how she’d been able to sneak up on him so stealthily.
Anaishe stopped, the hurt on her face evident even in the dim light. “Masimba, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.”
It was a simple statement. Coming so plainly from Masimba it was enough to move Anaishe to action. Quickly crossing the last several feet between them, she grabbed hold of her husband’s arm and peered up at him anxiously.
“Do you think the lion is back? Should we get your brother?” Anaishe stared in the direction of the game reserve that backed up onto one side of their property.
Masimba shook his head. “No. It’s something…else. I should have gone into town.” His shoulders drooped and he placed a hand over top of his wife’s, still on his arm. “I fear we are in danger. We should go to your father’s.”
“Now?” Anaishe balked. Her dad lived in the nearest village, but it was still close to an hour’s drive away. “The children are in bed. We have to start the harvest in the morning—”
Anaishe stopped, her face pinching up before breaking out in a coughing fit. As it passed, her mouth hung open while she struggled to take another breath.
Masimba took her by the shoulders, alarmed. The heaviness he’d thought had been his imagination pressed in on him with more weight, until he understood it was somehow real. It was real, and making it difficult to breathe.
“Anaishe,” he gasped, the horror of the realization solidifying in his chest. His bared arms began to burn at the same time that Masimba smelled something he associated with the bogs. It was a combination of putridness and off-gassing of decomposing vegetation.
Anaishe coughed again, her eyes bulging as she tried to scream but couldn’t. “The kids,” she finally managed to groan, collapsing to her knees.
Masimba gathered his wife up in his arms and began to run. He had to get her to the house. They’d be safe there. It was something in the air and if they could keep it out, they would be okay.
By the time he reached the front porch, Anaishe was making a wet gurgling sound. Slamming the door behind them, he gently laid her on the floor. When he saw her face, he fell back onto his bottom and pushed away in horror until his back hit a wall. Her eyes were pooling with blood, and the skin around her mouth was peeling and bubbling. Her chest rose once more and then became still.
Masimba sobbed, crawling back to where she lay. As he reached out for her, he saw that the skin on his own hands was also unrecognizable. Red, raw wounds had erupted everywhere. Swallowing, he wondered if the air was as foul on the inside as well.
The kids.
It was impossible to tell if the air in the house was any better, but Masimba had to believe it was. His kids would be safely sleeping in their room. He fought to take another breath, and it felt like he was sucking through a straw. His vision was diming and the pain had changed to a sort of buzzing sensation all over his body.
He was dying.
Staggering forward, he willed his feet to move. Compelled them with nothing more than a blind desire to see his children safe before he died. Then, Masimba could leave the world in peace, knowing their grandfather would care for them.
At the threshold to the room they shared, he paused. Light from the hall exposed enough to confirm they were both in their beds. Two small forms laying under their favorite blankets, surrounded by their favorite toys, the way they were every other night.
Except for the terrible snoring sound his daughter was making.
“Zendaya!” he cried, stumbling into the room. There was no reply. No rustling of covers and sleepy response as his seven-year-old daughter complained about being woken up. She would never see another sunrise, or scrape another knee.
Unable to bring himself to look at her face, Masimba instead focused on the outline of his son. Shohiwa was ten, and growing into a fine young man. It was to be the first harvest where he was allowed to participate. He was so proud that he’d even agreed to go to sleep early with his little sister so he would wake in time to leave for the fields with his father.
In between Masimba’s tortured breaths, the room had gone silent. Lowering himself painfully to the floor, he leaned against the bed. “Shohiwa.” He no longer recognized his own voice. It was weak and broken, like his soul.
Masimba’s head lolled to the side, his final thoughts of the green fields and cool Earth that had given them so much. Their time on it was short and precious, and his only regret was they didn’t get to say goodbye.
Chapter 22
PETA
Arrachart Airport
Antisiranana, Madagascar
750 miles NW of Mauritius Island
The power was out at the small, rural airport on the far northern tip of Madagascar, making it a harrowing landing Peta would rather forget about. It had been a day of firsts and she had a feeling there was going to be more before the night was through.
They were greeted by a man who came running from the main cement building near the main airstrip. Whether the methane wasn’t as lethal there or the building was enough to protect him, they had no way of knowing. Just seeing someone alive on the island was reassuring.
Once the rotors slowed enough, Lieutenant Rogers and Ensign Hernandez got ready to disembark, motioning to Peta and Devon to stay inside the helicopter.
“I need a bathroom,” Peta said begrudgingly as she watched the two
men shrug into their dirty jumpsuits before jogging to meet the islander. They stopped not far from the helicopter, the islander waving his hands animatedly as they spoke.
“I’ve needed one since before we went down in the basement,” Devon replied. “I was tempted to use an empty water bottle.”
Peta was going to make a wise remark about the benefits of being a man, when Rogers came back and stuck his head near the open side door. “Guys gonna help us set up a generator so we can pump some fuel. He’s the only one left at the airport and wants to get home, but he’ll at least show us where it is, first. The earthquakes have been getting worse, and no planes have been able to get in or out. Sounds like a lot of confusion here and some not-so-clear information. Their phones and all internet connections went down about the same time as ours and haven’t come back up.”
Peta nodded, not surprised. “Anyone without the benefit of a SAT phone and military connections is going to be in the dark, aside from the obvious.” She gestured to the tree line barely visible in the distance. “The trees that I can see don’t look like they’re burned, so that’s at least a good sign. The fact this guy’s running around already proves the methane wasn’t nearly as lethal here. I’m guessing the pyroclastic flow wasn’t as intense, either.”
“He said his lungs burned for a while and he thought he was gonna die,” Hernandez added, appearing next to Rogers. “Come on,” he said, tapping the other man on the shoulder. “He already took off for the building. I don’t want to lose him.”
Rogers backed up and started to turn around but then stopped. “Don’t go too far,” he said, looking first at Peta and then Devon. “We have no idea what’s going on here and this helicopter isn’t exactly in stealth mode.”
“Understood,” Devin answered curtly.
Peta looked at her co-worker with a crooked grin after the soldier was gone.
“What?” he asked, shrugging.
“Nothing, Devon. Just… who knew under that hip, island-guy exterior there was a warrior waiting to be set free?”
Devon frowned at her, clearly confused as to whether he was supposed to take the comment as a jab or compliment.
Peta’s grin widened. “Thank you for saving my ass today.” She scooted across the metallic floor before the moment became too awkward, like pretty much every personal interaction she attempted eventually did. “Let’s pee while we can!”
“Who said anything about peeing?” Devon jeered, dropping down to the ground next to her. “I’m going to find a very big bush and some soft dirt.”
Peta scoffed. “Water bottle, huh?” shaking her head, she went to take a step and nearly fell sideways. The ground felt like it was still moving in undulating waves, and her feet vibrated. Sticking her arms out for balance, she stared at a fixed spot near her foot, and took several deep breaths.
The Lieutenant had told them the next leg of their journey was going to be close to six hours and would push the limit of their fuel. Peta hadn’t been too worried about that detail at first, because she was under the impression since the helicopter was amphibious, they could simply land in the ocean and wait for the boat to find them. Then, Rogers explained that while it can land on water, it wasn’t made to float for more than thirty or so minutes.
Peta closed her eyes and did her best to enjoy the feeling of solid ground under her feet, only her brain was refusing to believe her. Giving up on walking a straight line, she headed for the trees. She had to navigate areas of buckled concrete and more than a couple of downed palm trees.
While squatting in the bushes, a snapping twig made Peta jump. Cursing, she shook out her shoe as she stood, peering nervously at the surrounding foliage. She could have sworn she heard some heavy footsteps nearby, though it would be easy for her mind to play tricks on her in the strange landscape.
The darkness was odd. It was like a moonless night which limited her vision to varying layers of grey, but it also had a sense of substance to it. Like, if she stuck her hand out and swirled it around in the air, it would leave a trail. Peta was seriously considering trying it when she saw motion out on the tarmac.
Assuming it was the three men returning with the generator, she began to walk toward them. She didn’t get very far. A hand sprang out of the oily blackness to slap over Peta’s mouth as a strong arm simultaneously slammed across her chest, pulling her backwards at the same time.
“Peta!” Devon hissed.
She froze, and then grabbed at Devon’s arm to steady herself as she tried to stifle a scream. It was then she noticed the bobbing lights in one of the windows of the building. Of course, they would have taken flashlights. As Devon released her, she was still afraid to move. Peta shifted her eyes back again to where she’d seen the movement, confirming what looked like two people quickly advancing.
She still had a glowstick in her back pocket, from when they’d divvied them up in the basement. Since she was able to see well enough to find her way to pee on a tree, she hadn’t seen a need to illuminate herself while she did it. Peta swore at that moment to never go anywhere without a real flashlight ever again.
Snap
More sounds from the trees behind them, making it even harder to know where to focus. The idea they might have to worry about a threat from people while fueling, wasn’t something she had thought of, though Rogers implied it. Peta’s first inclination would be to offer help and get as many people on the helicopter as possible. Then, her scientific mind kicked in, overriding her initial compassion. This all transpired in the few seconds she stood there in the dark, undecided if she should move.
Aside from the two people Rogers and Hernandez kept referring to as “the package”, it had been stressed that they couldn’t risk any additional weight, with how far they had to go. Though not set up as a passenger aircraft, they could have still easily fit ten more people inside, so it was a hard concept for Peta to accept.
Apparently, the US Embassy was a twelve-hour drive from where they landed so it wasn’t possible for any of the diplomats to make it in time. A few other “assets” had managed to gain transportation before losing contact. Other than that, it was unclear how many people, if any, were evacuated from Madagascar before the pyroclastic flow hit. It was an unfathomable likelihood that no one had been. The southern end of the island would have suffered a lot more damage.
Feeling ridiculous for being so indecisive, Peta scurried with Devon back to the Sea King while keeping an eye on the moving shadows. They were probably the two people they were waiting for, although she didn’t know why they wouldn’t have announced their arrival, if it was.
As soon as they reached the helicopter, there was a clicking noise and a bright beam of light cut through the dark. “Hello!” Devon barked. He waved the light, Peta figured as a way to draw the soldier’s attention back to them. It also revealed two men standing about fifty feet away.
The older-looking of the two raised a hand to block the blinding light and took a step forward. “Sali!” he said, sounding hopeful. “I am Luciano and this is my son, Andry.” His voice was coarse, like he’d been yelling all day and Peta assumed it was due to the toxic gasses he’d breathed in. Though it was hard to tell, it looked like he had a few sores on his arms and legs.
“Looks like your gasses were strong enough to do some damage here, too,” Devon said without looking at Peta.
“I’m Doctor Kelly,” Peta called back. “We came from Mauritius Island.”
“You’re a doctor!” Luciano said happily, pulling his adult son behind him as they drew closer. “Are you part of a rescue? You can help us. Something burned our skin and lungs.”
Peta began shaking her head, chastising herself for being so stupid. “No, I’m sorry. I’m not that kind of doctor. I wish we could help, but we don’t even have a first aid kit with more than a few Band-Aids.” That was the truth. After she and Devon used up whatever useful items they had found in the small kit on the helicopter, there wasn’t much left.
A slamming door and the
creaking of machinery announced the return of the soldiers, and Peta saw they were pushing what must be the generator in their direction.
“Do you know what happened?” Andry asked. His lips were swollen and bleeding in the corners, and his eyes were bloodshot. “Last we had heard, the MOHO Island erupted. Is this really all from that volcano?”
“Yes,” Peta answered simply. She glanced at the empty helicopter behind them. The “package” wasn’t even there, so why shouldn’t they at least offer to help? “Look, this is only going to get worse. You can’t stay here. Come with us, we have room on the helicopter.” She tried to avoid looking at Devon, afraid he would disagree with the decision.
Instead, the light dipped as he moved his head in agreement. “Yeah, there’s plenty of room,” Devon added.
Luciano held his hands up. “No, no. We must get home. My wife and two daughters are there.”
“I will go get them and bring them back,” Andry suggested. “It will only take me a couple of hours. We don’t live far from here. Father and I were at work when it happened and have been walking since a tree hit our car, miles from here.”
“We can’t wait.” Lieutenant Rogers stated, coming into view. “I’m sorry, sir, but we’ll be leaving as soon as we’re fueled.” He stuck a hand out, palm-up, while shining the flashlight in the space above it.
Peta’s stomach cramped when she saw the small specks of white floating onto his hand. Ash. The plume was collapsing and they’d be unable to fly soon. Very soon.
“I think you might want to reconsider that.”
Peta jumped at the booming voice behind them. It had come from off to the side of the Sea King, near the trees. Before she could even react, both Rogers and Hernandez had their service weapons out. Confused by their violent response, Peta spun around. There were three uniformed men, all with pistols pointed at them.
