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Post by bretf on Aug 28, 2014 4:43:13 GMT -6
I've been reading some of the fine stories here when I can so I thought I would post one of mine.
Prepared For Anything (Almost) By Bret Friend
The midafternoon sun warmed the ground in the blasted land, the desolate area that had once been known as Oregon. It was an old name, a reference from a destroyed world. Broken, dead snags stuck out of the ash, stark reminders of the lush forest that had once grown there. Other remnants of the forest were merely indistinguishable mounds, long ago buried. The stark gray stretched on endlessly in all directions, only broken by occasional splashes of color.
Years of rain and runoff had slowly scoured away at the heavy ash layers, exposing some rare patches of soil. Windborne seeds, seeds from those rare pockets that had miraculously avoided the devastation, had fallen into those spaces; rain had followed, creating struggling blotches of green in the otherwise endless gray landscape. The patches would remain green as long as the rains came, until the leaves withered and died like everything else in the blasted lands.
The gray of the ash absorbed the sun’s rays, heating the ground and the adjacent air. The warm air rose as a cool pocket of wind flowed into the former meadow, pushed by air currents from the Pacific. As the pockets of air collided, a rotating motion developed, the warm ground air rising rapidly in its spinning cocoon of cooler air. As the spinning column moved across the ground, it pulled particles of dust and ash with it, creating a grayish-brown column rising high into the air. The column spun across the desolate landscape, over one of the dirt patches with its curled, withered leaves. Tiny particles were shot skyward, dandelion seeds being pulled upward at a great rate of speed.
Hundreds of feet above the ground, the gray dusty ash covered ground, the rotating motion lessened. It was overwhelmed as the cooler air from the west pushed across the column; the air-borne particles were no longer rising, but being carried by the air as it made its way to the east, deeper into the blasted lands. The wind pushed on, flowing over the once mighty Snake River, another name for a bygone time. The landscape changed. Instead of the gray ash, now everywhere was black rock. Rough, imposing rock. No broken trees stuck out of the rock. The flowing rock had consumed most everything before it.
As the force of the wind diminished, its ability to carry the ash and dirt particles also diminished, and the light layer of dust was deposited over the layers of rock. A large mound in the endless rock created a break to the wind, the rock raised in a rectangular shape, one of many such mounds. Small outcroppings of brick protruded from some mounds, twisted rusted metal rose from others.
A dandelion seed floated gently over one mound. It settled softly, its parachute shape allowing it to land seed end down, into the accumulated dust of a slight round indention in the rock. Its weighted end pulled it partially into the soft fine dust, where it was covered over as more tiny dirt particles were deposited over it.
The cool air was pushed on by the cloud filled sky, rain falling in large drops, splattering the fine dust and ash. The small area of dust absorbed the raindrops, the damp dirt softening the covering on the seed.
The rain passed, the sun’s heat returned with wind; the wind with its ever present dust and ash particles. The seed swelled, sent out a tiny sprout, and root that sought the remaining moisture in the light soil layer. The tap root followed the path of previous roots, going deeper into the rock, finding the trapped water particles. It came to a solid obstruction where ash and lava had settled. It traveled sideways, following the path of previous roots; utilized the stored moisture, gaining nourishment from the dead plant material.
The root came to a juncture where the lava had flowed against a steel pipe and had shrunk in slightly as it cooled. A thin gap had formed, giving a slight space for the root to continue. For a time, the sprout rose, reaching higher, giving a tiny splash of green in the gray world. Additional rain fell, giving the struggling plant strength as it grew. A crack in the lava expanded. Like plants before it, the root expanded and exerted pressure, making the crack grow.
The wind, the dust infused wind blew over the mound, drawing what small moisture remained from the rain. The splash of green withered, turned yellow and brown lying on the small patch of dirt to be covered with the particles settling from the wind.
The seasons turned and snow fell on the indention. It warmed, melted and froze. The lava yielded to the ice, finally cracking and dropping away in pieces into the void. The rock fell through the open pipe, dropping into the void below. It dropped onto the shape beneath it. The hard leathery like skin pulled tight over the skeleton.
*****
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Post by bretf on Aug 28, 2014 4:44:37 GMT -6
I listened to the final track of the audio book again, thinking deeply about the ending. So Katniss and Peta ended up together after all, and did have kids. The nightmares they still have, so many years later. Wow, I thought, I sure hope our world never deteriorates into something like that. I mean, I have faith that both of the political parties are filled with liars, cheats, and power hungry goons. But to have someone like President Snow; with so little regard for human life, to stage those games year after year. Thank goodness it’s fiction. I remembered some comedian joking about Dick Cheney being evil like that, but really? Well, and those warlords in Africa, and all of the ethnic cleansing that has happened around the world. I gave an involuntary shudder to think of that and just what would need to happen for such horrific events to ever happen here. Thank goodness we are above all that! Really, it’s only fiction.
I ejected the disc and was trying to get it back in the case while driving down the road. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but I wanted to make sure I had it in the case before I took it in the library and looked for another audio book. I was jolted out of my concentration when the radio blasted the emergency broadcast signal. I quickly regained my composure and turned the radio down. I sure wish the volume of books was the same as the radio, but the radio is invariably too loud when I eject a disc.
I went back to the disc case and was surprised to hear the signal again. We have all heard the signal, countless times. It is always followed with “This has been a test of the emergency broadcast system. If this had been an actual emergency,” yada, yada yada.
Only this time it was different. It took a while to sink in that the announcer was talking about a real emergency. I heard “Yellowstone” and “caldera” just as the broadcast turned to static. I fiddled with the knobs and the scan button but couldn’t find anything except static. I quit fiddling with it when I noticed the noise. I could hear a noise outside, getting louder and louder. It was a rumble, jet engine type noise but exponentially louder, something I had never heard before.
I dropped the CD and pulled over to the side of the road. I got out to see if I could tell where the noise was coming from and what it was. That’s when the ground started shaking. I had never been in an earthquake before, but it was pretty obvious what was happening. I fell down and was reaching for the car to pull myself up when it started hopping. Actually hopping up and down like some of those cars with all the hydraulics in them. I half scooted away from it as a big willow tree came crashing down in front of the car and the roaring was momentarily covered by the sound of screeching tires and ripping metal as a car crashed into the tree. I have no idea how the driver had kept the car going while the ground moved like a trampoline filled with kids.
The ground was still shaking and I didn’t trust walking so I began to crawl towards the car to check on the driver. I couldn’t see him or her, but I could tell the air bag had deployed. As I crawled, the noise increased to a painful level. I put my hands over my ears just as they experienced a sharp, stabbing pain and everything went quiet. Too quiet. I couldn’t hear a thing. I put a hand to an ear and pulled it away and saw a little bit of blood on my hand.
I forgot all about the driver of the car. I had to get away, get away now. The ground had stopped shaking enough I could stand. I had no more than got seated in the car when it started again. I had to hold tight and fight to get the seat belt on, the car was bouncing so much. I was sure my head was denting the roof on some of the hops.
The pain in my ears had lessened, but they still weren’t working right. That noise had been just too loud to go away just like that. I could only hear a low continuous thrum. As a test, I clapped my hands in front of my face. Nothing. Great, earthquakes and now I couldn’t even hear. Just great.
As soon as the shaking lessened, I started the car. I couldn’t hear the engine and had to go by the panel lights and gauges to make sure it was running. The road ahead was blocked by the down tree, so I had to turn around. There were only a few bridges across the river, and of course I was on the opposite side from home. I turned and started back towards the nearest bridge. I didn’t get far. A pile up of cars totally blocked all the lanes. A few people were dazedly clinging to the cars. There was one cross street before the wreck and I took it with all of the speed the car could handle. I was sure if I could hear, the tires would have screeched loudly. Instantly, I had to hit the brakes to keep from hitting a large pine tree stretched across the road.
I jammed the transmission into reverse just as the car started bounding again. It jumped even higher than before, and numerous trees started toppling all around. If I hadn’t been so danged scared, I would have marveled at the site. Sitting in a car that was jumping up and down while trees fell all around; it was other-worldly. I held tight, not realizing I was holding my breath. I didn’t even notice the warm wet spot that formed on my seat, I was that terrified.
Finally it stopped again and I took a deep breath, thankful that with all of the fallen trees, none had hit my car. I got out and looked around slowly. It didn’t really matter that the car wasn’t hit. It wasn’t going anywhere. The fallen trees had it nicely boxed in. I was going to have to walk home; there was no way around it.
I got my get home bag out of the trunk and took the pistol out and put the holster belt on. There was no need to check the magazine. An empty gun is about as effective as a rock. The magazine was always loaded. I did jack a round into the chamber however. I slung the bag over my shoulders and got out the walking stick and looked in the general direction of home. That’s when I first noticed the houses. It wasn’t just trees that had fallen; a number of houses within view were collapsed.
I needed to get home. No, I should already be home. I started towards the river as fast as I could. Roads, yards; it didn’t matter. I doubted anyone was going to report a trespasser. Besides, with all on the downed trees, there wasn’t a straight path to be had. I thought about the fold up bicycle that I had in the garage and had been meaning to put in the trunk with my bag. It would have been useless in this mess.
That’s when I thought of Maggie; Maggie and her kids. I had been trying to get her to move in with me for a couple of months, but she wouldn’t do it. “Not without a marriage certificate”, she told me. “I’ve made enough mistakes in my life already. I’m not getting into something like that unless you’re ready to commit. I deserve better, my kids deserve better.”
“I’m committed,” I told her. “I just don’t’ want to get married. We have such a great relationship, why wreck it by taking vows.” She wasn’t swayed. In fact I’m not sure if she was more ticked off or disappointed. Well, she lived close enough to me; I’d go get her after I made it home.
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Post by bretf on Aug 28, 2014 4:45:50 GMT -6
I jogged on, my mind made up. Maybe I could use the four wheeler to go and pick her up. That ATV would go just about anywhere. Throw the chain saw on to cut any trees that were in the way, I was pretty sure I could get to her. I had no idea how naive I was.
I was nearing the river when it started to snow. What? Snow? No way, it can’t be snowing, it’s too hot. The sky had also begun to darken, but I hadn’t noticed it; I was so intent on finding a good path. The air was suddenly illuminated by a slashing bolt of lightning. It was quickly followed by more. The sky darkened to near nighttime conditions, the only light coming from the seemingly ever-present flashes of lightning. I stopped jogging and looked at the heavy dark clouds and held out my hand and caught some of the “snowflakes”. While I was looking over the rough gritty stuff, my mind finally added things together.
Earthquake, lighting, the radio dead after saying Yellowstone and caldera, the black cloud with dirt and rock falling from it. Wait, that’s ash. Holy Mother of God! The Yellowstone supervolcano must have blown! I couldn’t believe it. I mean, the fear mongers had been squawking about it for years, but really? I stood in denial for I have no idea how long while the evidence accumulated all around me, on me.
I was shaken from my reverie, really shaken from it as the ground started shaking again. I had already peed my pants, but I swear, by bladder let loose again.
The Yellowstone Supervolcano! When I first learned about it, I read everything I could about it. If it was the full eruption that many warned about, I was in a bad, bad spot. Actually all of southern Idaho was in a bad spot. According to some guys, the entire Pacific Northwest would be destroyed, as well as everything on the other sides of Yellowstone. Oh geez! I had to get home, fast.
Panic set in and as soon as the tremors stopped, I was on my feet. I started sprinting, no longer keeping to the steady jog I could maintain for miles. I had to get home! I had to get to Maggie and get her over to my place. I had everything at home I needed to get through this, or so I thought. Yep, that’s what I thought at the time.
I tried not to talk about how my place was set up, but every now and then I let something slip. See, the great thing about not getting married and having kids like my friends did, that is the ones that weren’t still partying all the time, it allowed me to spend my money on preps; long term survival preps. I had dropped some hints that they should get some preps ready for emergencies but it fell on deaf ears. Instead, they all considered me a paranoid survivalist nutcase. Oh well. When the stuff hit the fan I would be sitting pretty while they starved. We’d see who the nutcase was then.
I had built an underground bunker and filled it with everything I needed. Let the Chinese nuke us, I could stay underground for a long time. Drought, famine; I had enough food to make a whole Mormon family jealous. Economic collapse; a few ammo cans of silver coins would take me through that no problem. Underground tanks were filled with gasoline and diesel, and the 500 gallon propane tank was topped off. And pity any fool that tried busting in. I had enough firepower to defend the bunker. Yep, I had enough guns and ammo in that bunker that I could ….
I ran smack into a fallen tree that had materialized out of nowhere. Between the heavy black cloud overhead and the ash that was falling so thick, visibility had been reduced to just a few feet. The close lightning flashes left me momentarily blinded. My eyes would just get readjusted to the darkness when another flash would rip through the sky. The further away flashes looked dull and dirty, the brilliance muted by the falling ash. While I was doubled over waiting for the pain to subside, waiting to catch my breath after the mindless running, I let go with some cursing that, well, I could literally taste the soap in my mouth, thank you Mom. I cursed the ash, the cloud, the lighting, the earthquake, the volcano that was far from super in my mind, and I cursed Maggie.
Maggie, why couldn’t you just move in with me? You’d be safe now. Inside the house should be fine for the time being, at least I thought the house would weather the quakes, and then we could go into the bunker once I got there. Why Maggie, why? And I cursed her again, seeing her face as the last flash of lightning left me temporarily blinded to my surroundings. Her and her old-fashioned ways; I cursed her.
Finally I worked my way around the tree to a very welcome sight. The parks departments had made a greenbelt, a paved pathway that followed the river. I had made it to that. Now I had to decide, follow it to the next bridge or wade the river? The next flash of lightning helped me decide. The greenbelt path had numerous trees down, blocking it. It would be slow going if I followed it. As bad as the earthquakes had felt, I wasn’t sure I’d even find a bridge intact if I went that way.
However If I crossed the river, there was a nearby sports complex, the playing fields all devoid of trees. It would be easy going for a while. And not far from that would be a five line street. It would certainly have cars on it, but they would be a lot easier to go around than trees were. I had a glimmer of hope that traffic might even be moving and I could hitch a ride. Of course that hope proved to be in vain.
I waited for another flash of lighting to find a pathway to the river bank. Blackberry bushes were thick in the area and I sure didn’t want to get wrapped up in them. At the flash, I made out an opening and started forward. Now the question was if it led to a shallow riffle spot or one of the deep holes that were so popular with fishermen.
A lighting flash saved me just in time. The pathway led to a deep hole and I was one step from discovering it the hard way when the lightning revealed it. I took a step back, thinking it would be fitting to have the ground start shaking again when I was so close to the steep bank.
I waited for a chance to see again and when I did, I couldn’t believe my luck. A large, no make that huge cottonwood tree that had been growing against the river cut had toppled across the river. The bank had been slowly undercut under its roots by the water flow and the earthquake had finished the job. Even without the earthquake, downed trees in the river were a common occurrence. The fire department always spent some time before float season removing fallen trees.
I struggled through the roots and climbed onto the tree trunk and slowly made my way across the river. At about the half-way point I was able to see the water, or what should have been water. It was a thick, gray-brown-sludge. Added to that was a heavy sulfur smell in the air. It kind of reminded me of when I had the septic tank pumped, it really looked like that and the smell although different was far from pleasant. I shouldn’t have had that thought because all I could think about was falling into it. Man, I wished I had suction cups on my shoes; there was no way I wanted to come into contact with that. Not that the falling ash was exactly comfortable, but at least it wasn’t wet.
So naturally, that’s when I started encountering branches in the way. The first one was directly in my way. Lucky, it was large enough to support my weight as I hugged it tight and slowly worked around it. My backpack threatened to pull me into the soupy water at one point but I clung tight and eventually got around it. There were other large branches to work across, but none as hairy to get around as that first one. My walking stick would have been lost if not for the strap around my wrist.
The main tree trunk was getting noticeably smaller when I a flash showed thankfully, a gravel bed under the tree. I waited for the next flash of light to decide which way to go. Great, thick brush on each side, and I was sure there was some poison oak on the left. Wow, the choices were so good. Poison oak, blackberries, or the sludge filled water. I tasted soap again as I considered each lousy possibility.
Finally I went off the tree on the side towards home. The brush extended to the water, but thankfully the water was pretty shallow there, it wasn’t as deep as my hiking boots as I tried to skirt the brambles. I waded in and soon found an opening through the brush, just as my left foot stepped into a deeper hole and my boot was filled with water. I thought I tasted soap again.
The opening soon filled in and I forced my way through the brush, the sharp thorns digging into my clothes, snagging on my pack. I had to fight for every step and soon had bleeding scratches everywhere. Man, if that kept up, I’d never get the taste of soap out of my mouth. I got out of the thicket with a final bunch of thorns shredding my shirtsleeve.
I was panting from the effort and took a minute to breathe deeply, just for it to turn into a rasping hack. Crud came up with the coughing and I almost, almost tasted soap again while I upbraided myself. Of course I was breathing in all of the rotten ash.
The sports field was right in front of me, I don’t know how I lucked out enough to come out there, but I had. I walked over to a dugout and took my pack off and plopped down on the bench. It didn’t totally shelter me from the ash, but it did deflect most of it.
I dug into the clothes section of the pack and found the clean tee shirt. I took off my filthy one and wiped down as well as I could with a bandana. I felt so much better, having the clean shirt against my skin instead of the sandpaper clothes I was wearing. Somehow, I’m not sure how, the grit even managed to get into my undershorts, and let me tell you, that certainly wasn’t comforting. I had clean shorts in the pack, but not pants. But there was a full rain suit so I put on the clean shorts and rain pants and rolled up the filthy pants and shirt and stuffed them in the pack.
I took another bandana out and wrapped it over my face. Just like a thief in an old western movie, gun on my hip, face masked over. I didn’t notice an instant change but it had to filter the fine ash out. I dug deeper into the same pocket and found my spare socks. I changed out of the wet one, and put the other clean one in my pocket. Chances are the sock I just put on would soon soak through due to the wet boot so I wanted to have one more dry, clean one just in case.
I got my rain slicker out and put it on too. The way that stuff was coming down, the slicker and pants would have to make a difference. I don’t know why I wasn’t smart enough to put them on back at the car, but oh well, you know what they say about hind sight. Although the blackberry thorns would have shredded the rain suit, so I guess it was just as well.
I took my headlamp out and strapped it on under my cap and tried to think of anything else I could do before getting moving again. I could only think of one thing. Before standing up, I took a long pull on my water bottle, re-zipped the pockets on the pack and stood up just in time for a coughing fit. I sure wish I’d thought of the bandana earlier. It would have been fine in the berry patch.
I set out again, this time at a steady jog, though slower wearing the rain suit. The sports field ended way too soon and I was again dodging around trees and cars. But it was still pretty decent going to the main thoroughfare I was aiming for. Even at the slower pace, it was harder to maintain than I would have expected. Yes, I didn’t usually jog with my pack and rain clothes on, so that was part of it. That, and the ash, the rotten, dirty ash. My feet were sinking into it; it was amazing how fast it accumulated. It was just like a heavy snow storm. And every step caused it to billow up. It was working under my bandana and I could feel my lungs burning as I breathed hard from the efforts.
I slowed to a walk and worked at tucking the bandana into the neck of my shirt. It wasn’t totally effective but it helped. I trudged on; clouds of dust at each step, a headache developing from the constant sulfur smell. The ominous darkness persisted, the lighting flashed through the sky, and the slight thrum in my ears that never changed. Any hopes for hitching a ride were instantly crushed when I came to the wide road. Cars weren’t moving, and I soon saw where a number of them had collided. A few people sat in the cars with vacant stares, waiting for who knows what; the police and fire departments to clean up the wrecks and get traffic going? I was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen. More people were making their way between the cars, trying to get home on foot.
I was glad to have my walking stick when a couple of punks materialized from between two cars. One’s lips moved but I couldn’t hear anything he said. He was holding a knife towards me while his goon pal started to reach for my pack. Time seemed to slow for me, I don’t know how, but it did. I had so much clarity for what I was doing right then.
The walking stick swung up instantly, landing solidly in the crotch of the knife wielder. As he collapsed, the other guy paused to see what had just happened. That gave me time to pull the stick back and jam the end forward at his face. He reacted pretty quickly for it being so dark and moved back trying to avoid the attack. His movement changed the angle of my stick attack just enough that instead of sinking in an eye socket, the stick made solid contact with his windpipe. It didn’t hit as hard as I would have liked. You see, I don’t like thieves, not one bit; I wanted to hurt them. The adrenaline was pumping thorough my system, fueling me. I swung the stick, hard, hitting the goon solidly just below his ear. He dropped like a rock and I gave a solid whack to the guy that had already been on the ground. It had all happened so fast, I hadn’t even considered drawing my pistol. Besides, there was something satisfying about feeling the stick come into contact with them the way it had.
They lay on the ground like a couple of slugs. It didn’t appear they would be any more threat so I started back on my way in a jog, slower than I had been going before. As the adrenaline left my system, I had to fight the shakes. That had been close. I was glad the taekwondo lessons had stuck and I had reacted automatically. As I thought about those two maggots, taking advantage of the situation, I really tasted soap. From what I had read, if this was a major eruption, we were going to be lucky to live through it, and yet there were parasites like them, ready to prey on the weak. I pulled my bandana aside to spit, the imagined soap taste strong.
It took a lot longer to get home than I ever would have thought. I didn’t have any more trouble with goons. Most everyone I saw out walking had desperation written all over their faces. I’m sure they would have seen the same thing in my face too, but for the bandana. The jogging was harder and harder as I had more coughing spells; they were coming much more often and would leave my chest hurting. In one flash of lightning, I spit a gray-brown glob out. Even with the bandana, I was taking in way too much ash. I looked at some people nearby walking in the ankle deep stuff. Only a few had their faces covered. They were gray shadows moving in a gray world.
*****
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Post by bretf on Aug 28, 2014 4:46:41 GMT -6
I would have breathed a sigh of relief when I saw my house if it hadn’t hurt to breathe deep. It wasn’t just my chest; my eyes burned and teared, my throat felt raw. The blackberry scratches were all itchy and burning. My good breathable rain suit was stored at the house. The set in the pack was a cheap set that didn’t breath. I had sweated like mad from the effort of walking and jogging. The salt had gotten into all of the scratches setting them on fire. The sweat also worked with the ash that I hadn’t wiped off. It was wet sandpaper all over. I felt abraded and raw everywhere.
Besides the discomfort, I had somehow turned on the wrong road. How on earth did I manage to do that? I’ve been that ways hundreds, no make that thousands of times. How could I not know the way home?
So I went into my driveway, full of trepidation. I wanted nothing more than to get cleaned up, but . . . Maggie. Where was she? She was the only person I ever told about the bunker. Would she have known to come here? Where were the kids? She would never come without them? I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that she wouldn’t be there but although I didn’t pray often, I said a silent prayer as I walked down the drive way that she would be there.
I went to the bunker first and flicked on the light. The bunker wasn’t hooked into the grid. It had its own separate solar set up with a nice bank of batteries. The lights were all low usage LEDs. Of course there was no one inside. I turned the light back off, irritated at the amount of ash that had gotten in with just that one opening of the door. I’d have to shovel and sweep the crud away as soon as I could, otherwise the bunker would end up being a filthy mess.
I trudged back to the garage, again asking for help through prayer. How would that work I wondered. I hadn’t been to church since my mom let me off the hook, and prayer, well it wasn’t a habit I was into. How would prayers go over now? I don’t know why, but I had a thought about all of the relatives you’ve never met that call you out of the blue when your name is announced as winning the Power Ball lottery. I know I wouldn’t be too responsive to that. Wasn’t I doing the same type of thing now? So what about God? Wasn’t He forgiving? And then I remembered the story from Bible School about Sodom and Gomorrah. That didn’t seem very forgiving. I squinted into the ash; shoot it looked to me like we were facing the wrath of God right now. Oh well, I prayed anyway, even if it didn’t feel sincere.
I got inside the garage and swiveled my head, following the light of the headlamp. I had been hoping Maggie’s car would be there. Of course it wasn’t. A lantern was always on my workbench, so I got it started and turned off the headlamp.
I fought my disappointment and took off my pack. I was amazed at the amount of ash that fell off it. I got another visual image. I seem to get those a lot. I saw Pigpen, from the Peanuts comic strip. You remember, he always had the dirty face and the dirt cloud was surrounding him. The swirl of gunk coming off me and my pack was just like that kid.
I got my little bench broom and went to the overhead door and cleaned as much of the stuff off as I could. I wanted nothing more than to clean up, take a shower, put on clean clothes, but that was definitely out. But I would take time for a spit bath, albeit a quick one and another change of clothes. I stripped to my birthday suit, dropping everything in a filthy pile and went into the house, lit by the glow of the lantern. Too bad I never got emergency lights set up in the house.
A fast wipe down never felt so good. I could only imagine how good a shower would feel if something this simple felt so nice. Followed up with nice clean cotton against all the raw spots, man, that felt good. Too bad I would have to go back out into all that junk. But this time I would have the good rain gear.
I went back to the garage and prepared to go. I filled the chainsaw with fuel and bar oil and strapped it onto the front rack of the four wheeler with bungee cords. I paused, looking at the saw and the ATV. I thought I had read about the ash from the Iceland volcano and Mt St. Helens messing with air filters, clogging them up. I looked over both motors but couldn’t really see a way to protect them easily. I just hoped they would hold up for this outing.
I put my backpack, walking stick and a plastic tarp on the back rack and secured them. I figured Maggie and the kids could pull the tarp over them like a makeshift tent to keep the majority of the ash off.
What else? Did I have everything I would need? No! I needed the good dust masks . . . and goggles. I took my safety goggles from above the bench and set them on the ATV’s seat. The dust masks, though, were a different story. They were out in the bunker. Why didn’t I have some in the garage? Oh well. I put on the good rain suit and stepped out into the still falling ash. It had probably dumped another couple of inches since I had been home. I couldn’t believe the way it was coming down. The lantern light couldn’t penetrate the gloom; it seemed to die as if it had hit a wall.
But it was different than when I went into the house. It took a few steps for me to figure it out. Now there was rain mixed with the ash. Well it might have been rain if not for all the ash. Instead, it was mud falling from the sky. What next? First ash and now falling mud. I trudged into it, one foot sliding in the slippery gray slurry. Wow, this just gets better and better. I really thought we were facing the wrath of God here. I didn’t bother to pray this time; instead my thoughts led me to remember the taste of soap.
I went into the bunker, irritated again about the ash that got inside. Oh well, I’d get it all cleaned up as soon as I got Maggie settled. The glow of the LED lights was so much more comforting than the lantern light that was eaten by the mud. I opened the box of masks and took out a stack and put them in my rain jacket pocket, then put one on over my nose and mouth.
I opened the door ready to go out, but unwilling to leave the comforting light for a few moments. Resignedly I reached for the switch as I turned to look out at the falling mud. What I saw made my blood freeze, my breathing stop, and my treacherous bladder empty itself involuntarily for the third time that day.
*****
It wasn’t mud and ash flowing toward the door; it was lava, molten rock.
I stood there unable to move. The sight was terrifying. There were a string of houses blazing from the heat of the molten rock. My garage was just starting to burn. Trees were burning; torches rising high into the air. I stared, unable to accept what was happening until I had to jerk my foot back in pain. A channel of the lava had flowed into the bunker and was cooking my foot. I slammed the door closed, fighting to get it seated against the pressure pushing in on it. Once I had it closed I turned the deadbolt and put the bar across it.
I breathed deeply triggering a coughing fit. I yanked the dust mask off and expelled yet more gray-brown phlegm. When I could breathe freely again, I stepped back and looked at the door and the still steaming rock where I had been standing. I couldn’t believe my luck. I had put in a steel security door for, well for security. I had no idea it would be keeping lava out.
I got a bottle of water down and settled on the bed and took a long drink while I stared at the door. And then it dawned on me. I was stuck. My bunker had become my tomb!
I think I panicked about then and totally freaked out; I’m not really sure. But somehow when I could think again I had burned hands that matched a discolored patch on the door. My nails were chipped, broken and a couple of them were bleeding.
Then the panic yielded to despair. Maggie, oh Maggie, I’m not going to be able to get you after all. I hope you can get out, get to safety. And that time when I prayed, I was sincere, so sincere that Maggie be able to get out of this. I had my doubts, but that didn’t stop me. I prayed, begged and pleaded until my raw throat had left me croaking like a frog.
It was time to analyze my situation. Some fool had really designed the bunker well and I didn’t have anything stored in it that would cut through the reinforced concrete walls. I stood on the bed and felt the roof, yanking my hand away instantly from the heat. Okay, the top was evidently covered in lava. I already knew the door wasn’t useable, that if I opened it, the bunker, tomb, whatever would be filled with the molten rock. I don’t know maybe that would be the way to go, fast. But I couldn’t do that, I couldn’t just burn up. Call me a coward if you want, but I just couldn’t open that door.
So the walls were impossible, the door impassable. I couldn’t slither through the drain pipe. I looked at the ceiling vents, the filtered fresh air inlet. The one vent was a pipe direct to the outside air with a screen and hood over it. I wondered if the lava was over it. I didn’t know how I could take advantage of it if it was still open, but I just had to know. I had an overwhelming urge to find out. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop myself.
I moved a chair to where I could stand on it and reach the vent. I removed it and a cloud of ash drifted into the room. Okay, that wasn’t good, but . . . it didn’t tell me about the lava.
When I looked around, I saw my push broom leaning against the wall beside the door. I had meant to put it back in the garage but hadn’t done it yet. After I unscrewed the handle, I thrust it sharply up into the vent pipe. Ash rained down on me, but that was all. It wasn’t a good sign I thought. I thrust again and again to more ash coming in. Finally I felt the screen give away and the handle came up against the hood.
Thrusting again for all that I was worth, I instantly regretted the action. A drop of hot molten rock dripped onto my hand. It instantly seared the skin and flesh away to the bone. I dropped to the floor writhing in pain. I probably peed my pants again, but I’m not sure. The white hot pain overwhelmed everything else in my brain.
When I could think I poured what was left of the bottle of water over it, not caring one lick about the water splattering onto the floor. I grimaced in pain and looked at the chair I had just gotten off. The seat was smoldering, the rank smell of melting vinyl filling the enclosed room as the molten rock dripped onto it. I kicked it out of the way, not caring what it landed against.
And then I sat down and cried like a baby. I cried for myself, for Maggie for my family, for everything; the end of life as we knew it if the scientists were right. It was kind of funny that I cried like that. You remember, I was one of those paranoid survivalist nuts. I spent all my time and money on everything I needed for the end of the world, in fact I kind of looked forward to something happening. Maybe it was a feeling of superiority, I don’t know, but I had planned to thumb my nose at all those who were too foolish to prepare. You know the ant and the grasshopper story. This ant was going to be ready to face it and not take care of any foolish grasshoppers.
It was the ultimate irony. Idaho was supposed to be a great place for surviving. Low population, favorable political views, natural resources, farming, and everything else that made for a good location. Yep, it had all that all right, and a ringside seat to Yellowstone, the biggest disaster the world hadn’t seen. Just how stinking ironic was that?
I looked at the room again and wondered how long the air would last. Probably not very long, but I didn’t know. There were so many ways I could make it all end faster, but I wasn’t ready to do that, not yet. It was hopeless I knew, but still, I would cling on for a while yet.
Oh Maggie, I wish I would have married you. Hindsight again you know. I should have done it. Is there any chance you survived, and will ever try to find out what happened to me?
I had never been much of a drinker but I did have a good stock of liquor. It was going to make such good barter items when the time came after all. That and I had a lot of vodka for medical elixirs. After looking over the shelf, I removed the board that kept everything in place. I busted out laughing, I couldn’t help it. The board to hold everything in place if we got an earthquake. Like an earthquake would ever happen in this part of the state. Oh yeah, other parts of the state have earthquakes, but this spot was usually free of them. But I put in the boards anyway. I held the bottle of bourbon and laughed until I cried.
With that bit of hilarity out of my system, I went to the medicine cabinet and found the aspirin with codeine. A friend had brought it back from Canada. I had some stronger pain reliever, but didn’t want to check out too soon. I just wanted to quit feeling my hand.
Three tablets were washed down with a large swallow of bourbon. I nearly spewed right there. It burned all the way down and felt like a rock in my stomach. Setting the bottle none-to-softly on the table, I went to another shelf and took out a spiral notebook and pen. I turned all the lights off except the one directly over the table and sat down. After another stiff pull from the bottle – it wasn’t quite as bad as the first, but almost – I opened the notebook. Oh Maggie, if you make it and find me, I love you darling, and sure wish I’d done some things different. Another pull from the bottle, the pen in my right hand, I stared at the blank page while I tried to decide where to start. Finally, I began to write.
I listened to the final track of the audio book again, thinking deeply about the ending. So Katniss and Peta ended up together after all, and did have kids. The nightmares they still have, so many years later. Wow, I thought, I sure hope our world never deteriorates into something like that. I mean, I have faith that both of the political parties are filled with liars, cheats, and power hungry goons. But to have someone like President Snow; with so little regard for human life, to stage those games year after year. Thank goodness it’s fiction. I remembered some comedian joking about Dick Cheney being evil like that, but really? Well, and those warlords in Africa, and all of the ethnic cleansing that has happened around the world. I gave an involuntary shudder to think of that and just what would need to happen for such horrific events to ever happen here. Thank goodness we are above all that! Really, it’s only fiction.
*****
The cloud filled sky drifted over the blasted lands, the unending flows of lava. The rain began; a soaking rain that had always been so welcome when crops grew in the area. The raindrops ran down a solitary pipe, its open end exposed in the endless stone. The water dripped onto the open page of a spiral notebook. The pages began to curl and the ink ran and faded as the rain continued to fall.
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Post by mnn2300 on Aug 28, 2014 8:17:44 GMT -6
Excellent story, thank you!
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Post by dallanta on Jan 14, 2015 11:55:58 GMT -6
Sure glad that is just a story. An excellent short story and a good imagination
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Post by urbonangel on Mar 31, 2015 1:14:36 GMT -6
Loved it... Thanks for sharing.
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Post by freshwaterpearl on Apr 2, 2015 10:23:10 GMT -6
Well done.
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Post by motherhen on Apr 26, 2016 19:18:17 GMT -6
Wow, that was intense!
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ahsga
New Member
Posts: 32
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Post by ahsga on May 5, 2016 20:32:14 GMT -6
Well done.
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Post by bretf on May 6, 2016 17:39:32 GMT -6
Thanks to everyone that has commented on this story.
After I read about the Yellowstone Caldera, and read more and more, I decided that where I live, if it ever goes, I'll go with it, soon after the eruption. So how on earth do you prepare for that, without moving?
It was something that rattled around in my head for a long time, until I finally decided to write this.
Again, THANK YOU!
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Post by brucearmstrong65 on Jun 12, 2016 21:20:14 GMT -6
Great story! Loved the "third-act twist," as it's called. Very Serling-esque!
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Post by pbbrown0 on Jun 25, 2016 7:27:30 GMT -6
Dear Bretf,
Great story. As for your comments after the story, yes we have to choose which of the many possible problems we will prepare for and which we will just have to deal with IF it comes to that. As for moving, my preparing has convinced me to move 1500 miles from where my family settled almost 200 years ago and return to where they settled almost 300 years ago. Preparing and planning is all about making choices with your eyes wide open.
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Post by teedee on Jun 30, 2018 12:21:58 GMT -6
Great story. I think I have read it some time in the past but it was just as good the second time!
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Post by texican on Jan 14, 2019 22:15:11 GMT -6
Bret,
Found this story again which still does not end well....
So goes life....
Texican....
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Post by solo on Feb 1, 2019 10:31:22 GMT -6
I had read this one a while back and Just now again after my Friend bumped it back to the top. It reminded me of all the excellent work that is in our completed stories section. BretF, you are an excellent writer!
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