by David McAfee
The apartment complex had been built on the edge of town, and stretching out across it was a long field, fenced in with barbed wire. The snow was light, but he could see feint depressions that might have been footsteps. Pulling his gloves tighter against his fingers, he ducked underneath and followed. The further he followed her into the field, the more certain he became of her passing. Worse, though, was how he also saw the field stretching on and on for seemingly endless miles, yet no sign of his wife.
Suddenly this was no temper tantrum, no whim of a pregnant lady enslaved to her hormones. This wasn’t a marital spat. The wind was biting, the snow gradually thickening in ferocity. Feeling a moment of panic, he looked back to ensure the apartment remained, still visible in the white. Snow and ash had buried half the world, but at least Faye and her warm shelter were still there, still standing. He almost thought he could see the yellow glow of a fire.
“Susan!” he shouted. “Where are you?”
He trudged on, following the footprints. At first he thought he might lose sight of them completely, but then Susan must have reached a place of thicker snow, the depressions too thick to be buried just yet. John’s pace quickened, first to a brisk pace, then a jog. His breath burst out of him in white wisps of frost. He quit yelling. His mind was too occupied with horrific images of his wife lying in the snow, her limbs frozen, her eyes waxy and unblinking.
And then he did find her, hidden behind a small drift built up against a row of bushes. She sat with her legs to her chest, her face pressed against her knees. To John’s horror, she’d cast off both her coats.
“Please, no, go away,” she sobbed as he flung his arms around her. She shrieked and flailed against his touch, and so shocked was he that when her fingernails drew blood from his cheek, he didn’t even feel it.
“Susan, babe…what’s wrong. What’s going…”
Her coats were already covered in snow, their heat long gone. Braving her fury, he opened his own coats and tried to envelop her again. Her face was a frightening shade of gray, her lips quivering and blue. She moved to fight him, but he only shushed her with a kiss against her forehead. She broke down sobbing in his arms, curling into him to share his warmth.
As she cried, he surveyed the area. He could think of only one reason she’d come out into the middle of nowhere and cast off both her coats. Just one reason. And it scared him more than he’d ever been since that first storm of ash.
“Why?” he asked once her sobs had settled down to sniffles. “Why’d you do this? How could you?”
“Because you’re right,” she said through chattering teeth. “You’re right, but I can’t do it. You’d convince me. You always do. But I’d rather die than lose our child. Either way, our baby’s dead. At least she’d die in me. She’d die warm and whole, and I wouldn’t have to try sleeping at night thinking of…thinking of…”
And then she was crying again. John felt tears trying to build in his own eyes, but the sharp wind stole them away.
“Never,” he said. “I could never live without you. You’re all I have. Can’t you see that? You’re why I’ve survived since this whole shitstorm started.”
He chuckled, forced and bitter.
“You can’t imagine how many horrible thoughts went through my head. What I was worried I might find. If you were…you know…I think I’d have laid down right there next to you. All I’ve got is my love for you, and no matter what, I can’t let go of that.”
He kissed her forehead and sniffed. She looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy.
“And that’s what I feel for our baby. That’s what I was doing. You love me? Then let it continue. Let it grow.”
They stood, her wrapping an arm around his waist as he kept his coats tight about her. Together they made the march back toward the complex even as the snow and wind and cold did its best to slow them.
They stepped into the apartment room, Susan still pale from the chill. Faye stirred from her rest beside the fire.
“She all right?” Faye asked.
John nodded.
“Faye,” he said. “We have our decision.”
“And what is that?”
Susan clutched her husband as if afraid she’d lose him.
“It has to continue,” she said. “Life. Love. It can’t stop. It’s all we have. It’s all we’ve ever had.”
Faye ran a hand through her hair.
“You’re sure?” she asked.
They nodded, both of them. Faye smiled.
“All right, then,” she said. “We’ll let it continue.”
Note from the Author:
Anyone who has read anything by me knows this collection is a rather large departure from what I normally write. Usually I’m in a world of elves, orcs, and magic. Yet with Land of Ash, I wanted to test myself, see if I could honestly write beyond my comfort zone. I’d recently read much of Ray Bradbury, and there was a story in there in which the whole world is told in their dreams that life would end that night, yet no one rioted. No one panicked. It was hopeful, calm, and beautiful. With such ideals in mind, I wrote what became the first story, One Last Dinner Party.
OLDP enjoyed a bit of popularity in a fellow indie author’s collection, The Lake and 17 Other Stories, so much so that I wanted to see if I could delve deeper into this potential devastation. Borrowing from Bradbury yet again, I went for a Martian Chronicles feel, with various characters, places, and times instead of a single narrative. Might as well follow what you know works, eh?
I should probably mention the whole science aspect of this. By no means am I pretending to be an authority figure on the Yellowstone Caldera’s eruption. I had little to go on, and much of it from the internet (and we know how trusty that is, right?). Everyone agrees the eruption would be catastrophic, but just how and in what ways is a bit iffy. I went with what would let me write the best stories. Story trumps science, at least for me. I hope I kept things realistic, but let’s be honest here, this collection isn’t about the ash. It’s about the characters, their choices, their trials, as they try to endure a fate that would shock many to their core.
I hope you enjoyed yourself. I want to say thanks to Ron Hearn, for the inspiration for this whole eruption. Thanks also to David, Daniel, John, Rob, and Mike for working with me to add some new voices to this collection. Fingers crossed that you had fun reading their contributions as well.
Again, thank you. Your time is precious, dear reader, and I’m glad you spent it with me.
David Dalglish
November 5, 2010
A little bit about my friends…
David McAfee is the author of the horror novels 33 A.D., GRUBS, and SAYING GOODBYE TO THE SUN. He has also published two short story collections: THE LAKE AND 17 OTHER STORIES and A POUND OF FLASH. He and his wife currently live in Knoxville, TN, where they are awaiting the birth of their first child.
Daniel Arenson is an author of fantasy fiction, from epic to dark and surreal. He's written dozens of stories and poems, and is the author of fantasy novels Firefly Island (2007), Flaming Dove (2010), and The Gods of Dream (forthcoming). Visit Daniel's website at DanielArenson.com
John Fitch V is the author of several fantasy and sci-fi novels, including The Obloeron Trilogy, One Hero A Savior, the baseball time travel epic Turning Back The Clock and A Galaxy At War. Find out more at www.johnfitchv.com.
Michael Crane is the author of IN DECLINE and LESSONS AND OTHER MORBID DRABBLES. He is a graduate of Columbia College Chicago with a BA in Fiction Writing. Michael currently lives in Illinois.
Robert J. Duperre lives in northern Connecticut with his wife, the artist Jessica Torrant, his three wonderful children, and Leonardo the one-eyed wonder yellow Lab. He is the author of the Rift Series, a demon and zombie apocalypse. You can read more about Robert and his views and ideas by visiting robertduperre.com.
