by Paul Curtin
The boy sobbed. Through his broken words, he said, “I w-w-wanted to p-play in the snow.”
Aidan wasn’t supposed to be exerting himself, trudging through the snow. It wasn’t the first time he was playing outside without permission, but other times he hadn’t come back inside covered in ash.
“Did you burn something?” Sean asked. Maybe the shed? Or a part of the house? His heart beat faster.
“I s-snuck outside,” Aidan cried.
“Why are you covered in ash?”
“I don’t know,” he stuttered.
“Did you light something on fire?”
“No!” His sobs grew louder, his words becoming incomprehensible.
“Aidan,” Sean said, looking him in the eye, “I need you to be honest with me. What happened?”
“I don’t know,” he shouted.
Kelly stepped out of the guest bedroom. Dressed in a pair of long pants and a button-down cardigan, she pulled her clothing closer to herself, crossing her arms. “What’s going on?”
He wished she would stay out of it. “We don’t know.”
As soon as she saw Aidan, she rushed over to him and got on her knees like the others. “What happened?”
Aidan, probably thinking his mom and dad would punish him, sought safety with Kelly, and wrapped his arms around her. Despite him being filthy, she returned the hug without hesitation. “It’s okay, little man,” she whispered.
Kelly raised her eyebrows as if to ask what was going on. Sean put a hand on his forehead, the sound volume of the room shrinking, Sean hearing nothing now, not even his son’s sobs, his eyes tracing Aidan’s steps back to the garage entrance. He pushed himself up and followed them. Each footstep wasn’t a perfect print but had a tail like a comet where Aidan had dragged his feet. Sprinkled around them were specks of gray.
He threw the door to the garage open. A cold, bitter wind wafted toward him. He walked through the breezeway and onto the concrete floor of the garage. The backdoor was wide open. He crept toward it.
He shoved his upper arm against his lips.
The air stunk like sulfur and smoke. It couldn’t be wildfire. Too much snow. Yet, out of the sky white snow floated with what appeared to be gray ash and spent embers, the tones intermingled and contrasting. He stepped closer.
A gust kicked up, Sean shielding his face. He bent down toward the settled snow, careful not to step into it. Grabbed a handful. The white and gray juxtaposed with one another in his hand, the white fading as it melted leaving a wet, black residue in his palm. He rubbed his fingers together and smelled them. Burnt wood. Even as he pulled his hand away, the odor lingered in his nose.
His eyes widened, and he wiped his hand on his pants. Whatever was happening was something he didn’t understand. Something the wind had brought in.
Something monstrous.
Michael
When Michael came out, Kelly was holding Aidan and Elise was looking toward the garage at something he couldn’t see. Sean was nowhere in sight. Elise might snap at him for coming out of the bedroom—she had been firm about not wanting to see his face again—but all the racket sounded like the world might be ending. If he didn’t show concern, he might be accused of being heartless. Yet, if he did, he might be accused of trying to instigate conflict. A no-win situation, so he went to investigate.
“What’s going on?”
No answer. Aidan was caked in something. The room smelled like the bonfires he had attended during law school, minus the odor of cheap beer. “What happened?” he asked Kelly.
She shook her head. His nephew’s sobs permeated the room and assaulted his ears. The air hung in tension like it was saturated with aerosolized gunpowder and someone was seconds away from jumping inside with a torch. He edged around the coffee table, closer to his sister, as if any sudden movement would cause an explosion. “What happened?” he whispered.
Elise didn’t look at him. “Nothing that concerns you.”
“Why’s Aidan crying?”
“My son is not your business right now, Michael. Get out of here before Sean sees you.”
“He’s crying like somebody died.”
She put a hand in his face. “Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“You know what. Trying to play some moral superiority card. Out of my face.”
The heat of his temper flared in his chest, Aidan’s sobs chipping at the last bit of restraint he had. He expanded his chest and put his tongue between his teeth. He started to backpedal toward the guest room.
Elise walked past the fireplace toward the window, took the cord for the blinds, and yanked them up. She clasped her hand over her mouth and yelped. He stopped, their eyes meeting, Elise’s eyes wide, her arms shaking. He hurried toward her.
It looked like ash. Ash and snow. Everything outside was coated in a thin layer of gray, more drifting down to join the pile. “Holy shit,” he said.
Elise looked over at him, the hand over her mouth lifted, her lips moving but no sound coming out. He looked back at his wife, Aidan still strapped to her like Velcro on felt. They conversed without words. She asked what was happening, and he saw the panic rise within her. He had nothing to say, no plan to execute. For the first time he could remember, he had no response.
“Elise,” Sean yelled from the other room.
She snapped out of her daze. He yelled her name again before barreling into the living room. “Babe, the snow,” she said.
Gasping like he’d just finished sprinting, he straightened his back. A raw determination reflected in his eyes. “My emergency radio should have gone off.”
“The weather one?”
“The one in the bedside table drawer.”
Elise drew back, like she expected Sean to punch her in the mouth. “I took the batteries out.”
Sean stared her down. “You did what?” he said through his teeth.
“I needed batteries for the clock in the kitchen. Oh, God. I’m sorry.”
He wiped his face with his hand and smeared ash across his skin. He shut his eyelids. “Just—can you get Molly? Grab some blankets. Meet us in the reserves.” He pointed to Kelly. “Take Aidan to the basement.”
As Elise charged up the stairs, Kelly picked up her nephew and saddled him in her arms. “Where’s the basement?”
Sean told her and wiped his brow with his shirt. Michael couldn’t hold his tongue anymore. “Sean, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know.” No animosity, like yesterday was forgotten.
“Is that ash outside?”
“It smells like—sulfur or something. Burning. Like there’s a forest fire.”
“Then we need to get out of here.”
Elise yelled upstairs, pounding on Molly’s door without ceasing. The hair on Michael’s arms stood. Sean said, “We can’t go out there.”
“Well if there’s a goddamn forest fire coming toward us—”
“It’s the middle of winter. The entire woods are covered in snow. This isn’t a forest fire.”
Elise hurried down the stairs, pulling Molly along by the hand. Molly, hair a mess of bedhead, dazed but in control—more than he would be if someone had ripped him out of bed—blinked a few times when they came to a stop.
Sean asked Elise, “Did you grab the emergency radio?”
She froze, frustration in her face like she was kicking herself. They stared at each other, anger growing on Sean’s face. “I’ll get it,” Michael finally said. “Bedside table, right?”
Michael couldn’t pinpoint what was happening behind Sean’s eyes, the thought process there. Sean said, “Be quick. Meet us in the reserves.”
As Michael sprinted up the stairs, he watched in his peripheral as Molly wrapped her arms around her dad. Sean yelled for everyone to hurry. Michael wasn’t sure why everyone was panicking when they didn’
t have all the facts yet. But everyone was spooked, and now he was running for reasons he couldn’t explain.
He ran to the bedroom, almost slipping when he maneuvered around the banister at the top of the stairs, and pushed the door open. He scurried to the nightstand and pulled the drawer open, nearly tipping the whole thing, the lamp and the clock on top wobbling forward, Michael catching them before they fell. The whole table had a poor center of gravity, he guessed. He rummaged through the first drawer. Nothing except towels and lube. He grimaced and pushed it closed. He pulled the second one open and rustled around inside until he found the radio buried under some socks.
Radio in hand, he pushed off the bedside table, once again rocking it back and forth, and ran out of the room. He bounded down the steps three at a time. Near the bottom, his foot slipped, and he landed on his rear and skidded five steps before coming to a stop. Pain shot up through his tailbone and radiated into his torso. He seethed and limped toward the kitchen.
Before he descended, he grabbed the clock Elise had mentioned earlier. The emergency radio was no use without batteries. Someone had closed the door to the reserves, so he threw it open and descended.
The basement was like a scene out of a cold war bunker. The women stood huddled together, shaking, black and gray gas masks secured on their faces, their eyes peering out through goggles. Little Aidan, hands gripped around Kelly’s leg, had a small, clear mask attached to an oxygen tank around his nose and mouth, his ashen clothes removed and wrapped in a blanket. Michael’s feet settled against the concrete at the base of the stairs. “What’s going on?”
Sean appeared from behind the family. His gas mask was bigger, his eyes like coal behind the goggles, reflecting the swaying light in the middle of the room. His breath was more pronounced through the ventilator attached to the mask. What the hell was happening?
“Did you get the radio?” Sean asked.
Michael nodded and extended it to him. The entire scene felt surreal, like the world had gone and changed somehow. He pushed back against the thought. There was no big fire outside. Freak anomalies happen, but there was no need for gas masks. No need for panic. Maybe. God, feeling the panic coming back. “I got the clock for batteries,” he said.
Sean was already loading AA batteries into the radio. “We always have batteries down here,” he said. “There’s no reason they should have been taken out to put in a clock when we have plenty down here.”
No sugarcoating who the comment was aimed at. Elise said, “You kept telling me not to take things from the reserves.”
“I didn’t say take the batteries from the emergency radio. Of all the things to take batteries from.”
“I’m sorry, okay? I made a mistake.”
“We could have been warned hours ago.”
A grunt carried through her ventilator. It occurred to Michael that neither Kelly nor he ever got the Wi-Fi password yesterday. They could have gotten warning without the radio if they had a data signal. Michael said, “Nobody needs to blame anyone right now.”
Sean’s eyes locked onto Michael for a few dragging seconds. Finally, he looked away and loaded another battery. Michael asked, “Why’s everyone wearing a mask?”
“We don’t know what’s going on. Could be an aerosol weapon attack. I don’t know,” Sean said, lodging the last battery into place.
He paused. “So where’s mine?”
Sean stopped. “Yours?”
“Yeah, mine.”
“We don’t have another. I already gave Kelly the one I bought for when Aidan’s older.”
He looked at the others, safe and secure in their masks, shielded from whatever was outside, and he stood there exposed. He felt a cough in his throat. “You don’t have any more masks?” Michael said.
“We didn’t expect to have any more people than this,” Sean said.
“If that shit outside is poisonous—”
“Watch your language in front of the kids.”
“If that shit is poisonous, then you’ve already been exposed.”
Sean stepped back. A static crunching blasted from the radio trying to find a signal. “What are you saying?”
I’m saying give me your mask, you prick. “How is it doing any good if you’ve already been exposed?”
“I have medical masks you can use.”
“Sean, if you’ve been exposed already then you wearing a mask is useless.”
Elise inched into the space between them. “Michael.”
“We don’t even know what’s outside,” Sean said.
“Then why’re you wearing a gas mask?” Michael asked.
“We need to take precautions.”
Elise told Michael, “Just calm down.”
Michael was primed to rip that stupid mask off Sean’s stupid face. He just knew Sean was concealing a smile behind that mask. That’s how Sean was. Always trying to teach a lesson—and, oh boy, was this a good one. Don’t prepare, die first. But Michael wasn’t about to die over a lesson. Not without a fight. “You’re being selfish,” Michael said. “If you’ve already been exposed—”
“Back off.”
“Michael, you’re out of line,” Elise said.
“There’re plenty of medical masks over there,” Sean said, pointing. “Go get one. We don’t have enough gas masks for everyone.”
Michael stepped forward, a second away from lunging at him when a small voice spoke from behind them.
“Take mine.”
Molly had her mask in her hand, extending it out. A few tears rolled off her pale cheeks, and she thrust it closer toward him. “Come on. Take it.”
Elise
Elise couldn’t see his face under the mask, but she heard Sean’s breathing pick up and his horrified yelp. They had spent so much time and energy prepping for a disaster, and now it was here. To see Molly vulnerable to whatever was outside…
“Molls, what are you—? Molls,” Sean said.
“What’s the point of the masks,” Molly said, “if we’re going to kill each other over them.”
Elise sighed. That wasn’t going to happen.
“Please, please put your mask back on,” Sean said.
Molly sniffled. “I’m giving it to Uncle Mike.”
Michael seemed beside himself, his face filled with shame. “I can’t take that from you.”
“But you’ll take it from my dad?”
“I can’t.”
“I’m giving it to you,” she said, her eyes dripping with each blink.
“I’m not taking it.”
Sean stood in front of Molly, his hands on her shoulders, whispering, “Sweetheart, you need to put your mask back on. Please.”
“I won’t take it,” Michael said.
Her bottom lip trembled, eyes toward the ceiling. She set the mask into place and tightened the straps. Sean fell forward and wrapped his arms around her, a sigh escaping from his mask’s ventilator. Elise said a brief prayer for Molly’s protection, hoping she hadn’t hurt herself.
He broke away from her. Sean and Michael looked at one another, saying nothing. Michael soon grabbed one of the surgical masks and then embraced his wife. Kelly pressed her head against his chest.
Sean signaled for Aidan to come closer, and he came and hugged his dad’s leg. Elise watched her husband rub Aidan’s back, his touch so gentle she found her own nerves settling too. It would be okay. They were a family. If they stuck together, they’d make it through.
Aside from a few sniffles and the crackling radio, the cellar was silent. She eyed the supplies. She had been canning and preparing for something to happen for years, but always hoped the day wouldn’t come. Now she wasn’t sure there was enough. She should have listened when Sean said he wanted to buy a freeze-dryer or more supplies. Listened when he said there was never enough.
Sean adjusted the dial on
the radio. A modulated signal came through, fuzzy and distorted. He rotated the dial back, and the signal peaked in volume and settled. A computerized voice spoke: “This is the emergency broadcast system. This is not a test.”
A dissonant tone blared out of the speakers. Again. And again, the sound slamming into her chest each time, shattering any calm she had. It had always been a test. Now it wasn’t. Molly hugged her, Elise pulling her closer.
A sound clicked on the radio like a phone receiver had picked up. The voice came on again. “This is the emergency broadcast system. This is not a test. Be advised: The Volcanic Ash Advisory Centres in North America have issued an ash advisory across the continental United States. Please remain indoors as inhalation of ash can cause severe respiratory issues.”
“Volcanic ash?” Sean said, the radio shaking in his hands.
“There aren’t any volcanoes nearby, right?” Michael said.
“No. Not at all.”
Elise said, “Then how is this happening?”
Sean hushed them as the radio voice continued: “Weather patterns are carrying ash over the continental United States. Do not leave your homes. Wait for local emergency personnel for further instructions. This is the emergency broadcast system. This is not a test. Be advised: The Volcanic Ash Advisory—”
Sean silenced the radio, leaving only the ticking sound of the clock Michael had grabbed. He lifted his mask off his face. Everyone reluctantly followed. He grabbed the medical masks and distributed them. “I think we’ll be fine with just these.”
“What did they mean, the continental United States?” Kelly said.
“It means it’s bad.”
“What could even cause that?”
Elise could almost see the thoughts processing behind his eyes. “All right,” he said, “we’re going to lay down some rules right now. First, nobody goes outside under any circumstance unless I tell them to. We don’t open windows, and we don’t open doors except to the garage.”
“What if the police or firemen come?” Kelly asked. “Like from the radio?”
