The Journal: Ash Fall

by Moore, Deborah D.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Eric. I’d rather not bring any attention to us at all,” I replied. “Plus we don’t know if Andrews is even still there. An inquiry might only be another red flag. Let’s just wait and see on this one. Besides, we have work to do.” With that, we got back to cutting up meat.

  By the end of the evening, I had processed another twenty-eight jars of venison, half of which we had ground first. Instead of more jerky, we had ground that too, mixing it with the commercial seasonings, and made sausage for the smoker. We had also cut several nice steaks from the rump that I seasoned and that we would cook in a few days.

  “I don’t know about you, Jason, but I’m beat,” Eric admitted to his younger brother. “What do you say that we load this meat in the smoker tomorrow? Can we leave the jerky marinating? And I know the sausage should flavor cure a bit before smoking.”

  “Yes, just put it all in the refrigerator,” I said. There was very little I kept in there anyway.

  “Are you going to make a neck roast again, Mom?” Jason asked with a grin. “Mark, she has this secret way of stuffing and cooking a venison neck roast that is just incredible.”

  “Yeah, maybe Mark can get the secret from her,” Eric punched his brother in the arm.

  “Okay, neck roast it is. Tomorrow?” I offered, feeling a bit embarrassed that they are recognizing Mark’s place with me.

  After those two had left and it was quiet again, I deboned the neck roast, seasoned it, and let it chill down in the refrigerator until tomorrow when I would stuff it with fresh bread, canned ramp greens and mushrooms. There really wasn’t any secret.

  JOURNAL ENTRY: July 25

  Twenty one quarts, three batches, of venison soup that was heavy on the meat, are lined up on the counter and still cooling. It is only six o’clock in the evening and I am already tired.

  I know the extra food, the extra meat, could mean everything to us in the future, but I’m burning out. So much feels futile.

  Mark and I walked the marinating jerky and the sausage over to the boys for them to load up the smoker. It wasn’t much physical exercise, but it was good to get out of the house.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 32

  July 26

  “I know you’re tired of cutting and canning venison, Mom, but we might not have this opportunity again for a long time,” Eric insisted. “Jason and I are going out again. We’ll be back in a few hours or sooner.”

  I couldn’t argue with his logic. This ash cloud might very well kill off the entire local herd of deer, moose and elk, not to mention all the smaller animals.

  The grid power was still on, so I busied myself with mundane chores, like laundry and puttering in the greenhouse.

  I was folding clothes on the large dining room table when I heard a rifle shot.

  “Sounds like they got something,” Mark commented. “Are you ready for more work, Allex?”

  “He did have a point, Mark. Our protein availability may be…” and then I heard several shots, and then a few more. “There’s trouble!” I said, racing for the greenhouse to put on my bio-suit coveralls. I grabbed my hunter orange knit cap so I could be easily seen by my sons, and my Mini-14 rifle. I checked to make sure it was loaded, and I took an extra loaded magazine from its hiding place in the clock and I was out the pantry exit.

  I raced down the hill toward the now sluggish creek, its normally clear spring fed water muddied with volcanic pumice, and I heard another report, and then another. My breathing was labored behind the bio-mask as I lurched up the other side.

  I wasn’t expecting the scene I stumbled into. At least twenty deer lay scattered over a two acre area, some of them struggling to move, others not even trying, still others already dead. That wasn’t what made my blood run cold. It was the wolves circling my sons! Eric was attempting to stand while Jason stood, aiming with one hand, the rifle butt tucked in his armpit and helping his brother with the other.

  “Eric! Get up! You’re too much of a target on the ground! Get up!” Jason yelled.

  Another wolf lowered his head, slowly moving forward, its teeth bared. Wolves were majestic, and this one was a prime specimen. His thick dark gray and black coat bristled as he stalked closer; tufts of dark brown rippled across his haunches as he moved and its black speckled pink lips revealing long and deadly fangs. I leveled my .223 at him and pulled the trigger. The male leaped sideways from the impact and fell. The three other wolves stopped but did not retreat.

  I ran to join the fight. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do to protect my children, even if they were grown, maybe especially now that they are grown. No, that wasn’t right either. My level of protectiveness knows no age limit, no boundaries.

  I could see that Jason was getting fatigued from the dual task.

  “You shoot, I’ll get Eric standing!” I told him, and laid my rifle down beside Eric, who had stopped in a sitting position. His left foot was bloody and the bio suit was ripped to shreds below the knee.

  “I’m going to get under your arms, Eric, you’ll have to push with your right foot, okay?” He nodded, obviously in a great deal of pain. “Now, push!” and with that he staggered upright as I lifted. I led him over to a broken tree so he could hold on, keeping upright, while I retrieved both of our rifles.

  Another shot rang out as Jason took down another, then another. The last wolf turned and loped away.

  I went back to the tree. Eric was looking very pale. His teeth were clenched in pain and his breath came in shallow gasps. I looked at the tears in his skin from the wolf’s teeth. It looked really bad. I took off one of my shoes and pulled off my sock. I cut it down both sides to the toe to give me one long piece and tied it just below his knee, hoping to slow the loss of blood.

  “We need to get him back to the house. NOW!” I yelled at Jason. I took both of our rifles and slung them across my back, Jason doing the same with his. I found a long, sturdy branch that Jason and I could both hold onto in front of us, while Eric sat on it and held onto our shoulders. With the weight evenly distributed and with us being able to move forward instead of sideways, we cleared the earthen rise and descended to the creek quickly. Going up the other side was more difficult and we stumbled, and Eric cried out in pain. It was agonizing for me to hear.

  “Mom, I’m going to pick him up fireman-style, and I need you to push me from behind, so I don’t lose my balance,” Jason said, tossing aside the pole. It was slow, but steady, and soon we were at the top. Only a few more yards and we’d be at the house.

  The glass door opened and Mark ran out, putting his mask on. Jason let Eric slide off his shoulders while Mark guided him to the ground. He grabbed Eric around the chest from behind and lifted, while I kept his injured foot from dragging on the ground and we moved him quickly into the house.

  I swept all the laundry off the table, letting it drop to the floor, and we laid Eric down.

  “What happened?” Mark asked as he began to cut away the bloodstained bio-suit. I ran a sink full of warm water and got an armload of towels from the bathroom.

  “There is a small herd of deer just beyond the second rise that is struggling. Some have already died, most are just lying there, barely breathing,” Jason explained. “We didn’t even have to shoot, but Eric wanted to be humane. We could have just walked up to them and slit their throats. As soon as Eric made the belly cut to dress out the deer, the first wolf showed up. We didn’t hear it and I saw it only after, while I was looking for the next deer to shoot. Before I could even raise my rifle, the wolf was on Eric, dragging him away by the foot, and Eric was kicking and screaming. I had to get real close to shoot or risk hitting Eric,” Jason sobbed. “Then the others showed up. I started picking them off, but honestly? I was scared and shaking. I know I missed a few.” He paced, stopping to rip off his suit.

  “Eric had set his rifle against a log when he started gutting, and he was dragged too far to reach it. After I shot that one, Eric crawled back to the deer, maybe to get his rifle, maybe fo
r his knife, I don’t know, they just started coming at us. I had to get Eric standing or they would have killed him. That’s when you showed up, Mom.”

  Mark had finished cutting away the pant leg, and then the laces on the boot, removing it as gently as possible. Eric still moaned.

  “Allex, get his sock off then wash the area so I can see,” Mark directed me as he opened the refrigerator. He opened two of his medical boxes, pulling a couple of vials from each and two syringes. He filled one and injected it into Eric’s arm.

  “A pain killer,” he explained. “It should put him out for an hour while I do what I can.” He injected more into the calf, above the mangle tissue. Eric was soon asleep.

  “I need light, lots of light,” Mark said. “And this table just won’t do, it’s too wide. What else can we use?”

  “How about my massage table? I can raise the legs some on it. It’s vinyl so we can sanitize it, and there’s padding so he’ll be more comfortable, plus it’s only thirty-two inches wide,” I said, stroking Eric’s cheek while a tear slid down mine.

  I set up my table, adjusting the legs to give the maximum height, one that Mark was comfortable with, and then I wiped it down with bleach and draped it with a clean sheet. We set up side tables for his instruments, positioning what extra lights and lamps we had around the foot area. It took less than fifteen minutes. We moved Eric carefully; the dead weight took the three of us without dropping him.

  Mark began. He put my son’s leg back together from the horrific wolf attack. The bite marks were deep and would leave scars. I handed clamps and retractors, wiped the flowing blood from Eric’s calf and the sweat from Mark’s forehead so it wouldn’t drip into his eyes and blind him.

  “Number six suture,” he said, his eyes not moving from his task. I searched and handed over what I found. Slowly, ever so slowly, the bleeding lessened, and eventually stopped. The internal wounds were closed, and the external lacerations were closed with drainage tubes installed.

  An hour after he had begun, Dr. Mark took off his surgical mask and gloves, tossing them into the trash can.

  “We’re done. Now it’s up to him,” he announced. He sat back on the stool and closed his eyes. “Thank you, both of you,” he looked at me, then to Jason, then back to me. “I think he’s going to be fine. He might limp a little, but he still has a foot, thanks to those boots.”

  Jason let out a sob, as did I.

  “He might need blood, though. Do you know your blood types?” Mark asked.

  “I’m 0+,” I said. “Both Eric and Jason are A-.”

  “I guess that leaves you to donate, Jason,” Mark said.

  “Anything. Take as much as you need,” Jason responded.

  “Hold on…” I said, looking out toward the barn in the dimming light. “We have company.” The wolves had followed the blood scent.

  “How did so many wolves survive the ash fall?” Mark said, clearly frustrated and not just a little frightened.

  “Wolves are highly intelligent, Dr. Mark. If they sensed a problem, they would have hidden in their dens until the threat subsided. By the time it passed, they would have been really hungry, starving. With us harvesting the deer, it would have sent the blood scent in the air, activating the blood lust. That could be why they attacked,” Jason concluded.

  “We need to take them out, Mom, or they will never leave us alone,” he continued, getting off the table where he was ready to donate blood to his brother. “I have to call Amanda.”

  I could hear him talking to his wife, gently and then forcibly, telling her they all needed to stay inside until he got there, and to not be concerned about the gunfire they would soon hear.

  I slapped a freshly filled magazine into my rifle and chambered a round. Jason had done the same and was waiting at the deck door. I slid the glass door open just enough to get the barrel out, and aimed carefully. I killed one of the wolves and began laying down distraction fire while Jason went out the door and up the ladder to a more advantageous spot on the roof.

  Of the remaining canines that had followed us, we killed them all. As much as I hated killing such beautiful wild animals, this was a matter of them or us so it had to be them.

  * * *

  Dusk was closing in quickly. Jason had to return across the street and soon. Mark took a pint of blood from Jason, and then we moved Eric on to the futon and made him as comfortable as possible. In the waning daylight, I stood just outside the greenhouse door, watching for any movement while my youngest son made it safely across the road and onto the porch. He gave me a flash of the porch light to let me know he was once again inside, and I retreated into the safety of the house.

  Mark had worked quickly to set up an IV drip that would deliver Jason’s lifesaving blood into Eric’s depleted veins.

  I was drained; totally exhausted. I looked in on Eric before I settled into the hard wooden chair at the kitchen table and looked around. I weakly stood up again, gathered the bloody sheets that still lay on the tables and stuffed them in the washer, setting the dial to hot. Then I collapsed the massage table and pushed it to the side. After that, I went to bed. Mark stayed at Eric’s side for most of the night.

  At some point during the dark of the morning hours, Mark slid into bed with me. I felt the hardness of his chest press against my back as his arm slid around my waist. His breathing slowed and he fell quickly and soundly asleep.

  JOURNAL ENTRY: July 27

  The wind was howling this morning so loudly it woke me early. Mark was still sleeping when I checked on Eric. They both were sleeping peacefully.

  I made some coffee and stood at the glass door, watching the wind whip the dust around anything vertical. The gray ash shimmered in the approaching morning, which is now just a lightening of the sky with no sunlight to be seen. Our new false dawn. I noticed yesterday when I touched the ash it crumbled to a fine powder and I can’t help wonder if that’s good or bad.

  * * *

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Mark whispered from behind me. “On second thought, make that a dime. Inflation you know.”

  “I read a post-apocalyptic book a long time ago, Earth Abides, where pennies actually became more valuable than any other coin because they could be pounded into arrow heads. Of course, that’s when pennies were still made of copper.” I turned to face Mark and smiled at him. “Have I thanked you yet for saving my son’s life?”

  “No need, Allex. He’s a fine young man and deserving of anything I can do for him,” he replied. “And about last night…”

  “Shush, Mark, where else would you have slept?” Our eyes locked and a moment of understanding passed between us.

  “Anything moving out there?” he asked with concern.

  “Nothing but a furious wind. I suppose once it gets light enough, Jason and I should move those wolf carcasses so they don’t attract anything else. I really hated killing those animals, Mark.”

  “I could tell,” Mark said, putting his arm around my shoulders.

  * * *

  “Mom?” Eric called out from the other room, with a faint moan.

  “Mark, he’s awake,” I called down the hall to where he was getting dressed, and then hurried to Eric’s bedside.

  “Don’t try getting up,” I said, as he struggled to sit upright. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I’ve been chewed on and spit out,” he chuckled then winced. “My foot really hurts. Is it still there?” he asked, swallowing hard, his tone quite serious.

  “Last time I looked it was still attached,” Mark said from the doorway. “Unless you’ve undone all my fancy stitches during the night.” He sat down on the edge of the futon couch and pulled the stethoscope from his pocket. He listened to Eric breathe, and then took his blood pressure.

  “I just need to change these bandages and I’ll be done here,” Mark continued while he cut away the bloody gauze. “Are you getting hungry, Eric? You can have anything you want. Well, anything your mom has, that is, and I think she’s pretty wel
l stocked from what I can tell.”

  “Anything? Let me think.” Eric leaned back into the pillows, mostly to avoid seeing what the doctor uncovered. I think. “I’ve got a taste for hash browns, a couple of eggs, maybe some corned beef and toast with butter.”

  “I’ll get right on it.” I smiled down at Eric, hoping that his appetite was indeed that good.

  “Make that two orders, Allexa, if you don’t mind,” Mark said. Just then the lights went out, leaving the room in a soft semi-darkness.

  I reached for the propane lantern hanging just around the corner, lit it, and placed it on a ceiling hook near the futon. The bright light illuminated the room sufficiently for Mark to continue changing the bandages.

  “You know, Eric, I’ve been meaning to ask your mother what all these hooks in the ceiling everywhere are for, now I don’t have to look dumb,” he jokingly confided in a rather loud stage whisper.

  * * *

  As I collected jars from the pantry to make breakfast, Mark joined me.

  “Allex, I didn’t want to say anything in front of Eric, at least not yet, but the wound is looking infected.”

  “You’ve got antibiotics don’t you?”

  “Yes, and I’ll start him on a Z-pack immediately. I was wondering if you had whatever it was you made a poultice from, the one you used on yourself?”

  “The comfrey. Yes, I dug some up. It’s in the greenhouse. Here, you take these,” I said, pushing the jars into his arms. “I’ll be right back.”

  I plucked several leaves from the wilted plant I had potted that now sat beside the fish pond. I gave it some water and hurried back to the kitchen. This growing room may be the best thing I’ve ever had!

  I tore the leaves and stuffed them into a poultice bag, set the bag into a glass bowl and then poured boiling water over all of it to infuse.