Devastation Erupts Page 17

  I’d honestly rather avoid windows right now. The view is depressing. My gaze floats to the sky, which bears a constant reminder of the pollutants threatening to suffocate every last molecule of oxygen.

  “You see that stream,” she asks, beckoning ahead slightly to the left. I follow her nod, peering into the distance. Although my view is distorted by the smoky haze, the far back corner of the yard slopes to a rocky edge. Thinning patches of grass dot the landscape just before it drops to an opening. That must be a stream. She doesn’t wait for my answer.

  “The neighbor across the street, he works for an exterminating company.” Her eyes remain fixed on the yard. “His truck, the tank ruptured somehow. Leaked chemicals into the stream.”

  She turns to face me. A sheen of sadness glistens in her eyes.

  “The water was all murky, frothy along the edges. I don’t know, it was like it was just oozing with sludge.” She shakes her head sadly. “I knew I wouldn’t be taking any pictures there for a long time.”

  The description reminds me of the stream Aidan, Chris, and I saw at the campground at the beginning of our journey. We figured pollution ruined it, snuffing out the life that once flowed through it. I don’t want to relive that memory, so I let it slither right back out of my mind just as easily as it tried to slither in.

  The two of us stand in comfortable silence, mourning what has been lost as well as the losses sure to come.

  “I know we agreed to stay here until the ash settles, but I’m tired of waiting. And what if things get worse the longer we wait? Maybe the ash isn’t as bad now, but maybe the longer it’s out there, the worse it will get?”

  I can’t argue with that, and patience has never been one of my virtues. As if Rossana’s words stir her to action, Millie rises and gallops through the kitchen toward the living room.

  “So you want to leave today?” If she goes, I assume we will too. Who’s going to let four strangers camp out in their house with no supervision?

  “Yes, after breakfast. I just need to pack a few more things, get you guys the ham radio, and load the car.” The finality in her tone leaves no room for discussion. Plus, she’s an adult. She’s not going to let some kids talk her into changing her plans.

  “I’m not going to alert the sergeant of our plans,” she adds. Her eyes trace my features, searching for dissent. She won’t find it here, though. I want to get home just as much as she wants to see her husband. “He’d just try to talk me into staying here, waiting out the ash. But I’ve made the decision for myself. For both of us.” She smiles when she notices the return of her loyal companion.

  Just as quickly as she left, Millie barrels back into the room, her nails clicking on the tile. She pauses to glance behind her, twisting with excitement when Jeff rounds the corner. Rubbing his eyes, he mumbles, “I thought I smelled coffee. Mind if I grab a cup?”

  “Sure thing, help yourself,” Rossana says, motioning toward a mug tree on the counter. She slides a griddle from a lower cupboard before gathering a red box of buttermilk mix and a pint of blueberries. Jeff dodges her moves, careful to stay out of the way while he prepares a cup of caffeine.

  Jeff and I sit at the table, and Rossana shares her plan while flipping fluffy pancakes onto a serving platter. Jeff’s hazel eyes grow more alert with each sip he takes. In silence, he absorbs the information and slowly nods his agreement.

  “You’re right,” he rubs his stubbly chin as he speaks. “Nothing’s gonna get better, at least not in the timeframe we have to work with. Let’s go now, before everyone fleeing from the West clogs up the highways.”

  I listen mutely as they agree to load up the cars and depart as soon as everyone finishes breakfast. The promise of home is close enough now to become a reality. Even if it takes us two hours to get there, that’s nothing compared to everything we’ve done and everywhere we’ve been so far.

  Leaving half of a syrup-soaked pancake on her plate, Rossana excuses herself. She calls a quick “Good morning” over her shoulder when Aidan and Riley wander past her, into the kitchen. Millie watches her human intently but remains planted at Jeff’s feet.

  Riley yawns before slipping into a seat. “Why didn’t you wake me?” I start to answer but close my mouth when she notices the stack of blueberry goodness, forgetting the question just as quickly as she asked it.

  As she and Aidan load their plates with food, Jeff and I clear the dirty utensils and glasses away. We glance at each other and I throw him a tight-lipped nod. We’ve got to tell them. Clasping his hands together in front of his chest, he announces, “Guys, we have a slight change in plans.”

  Chapter 53

  Riley’s chewing slows and her face pales as Jeff’s words sink in. While he waits for Jeff to finish speaking, Aidan physically protests, pushing his plate away, crossing his arms, and releasing a series of frustrated sighs.

  Jeff stresses that our host has changed her plans, and that we really don’t have much say in the matter. Struggling to keep his voice to a strangled whisper, Aidan objects, “She has no idea how bad it is to breathe that stuff. It’s basically ground up glass and rock. You breathe it, it gets into your lungs. You walk around in it, it gets in your eyes and on your skin. And not to mention that time is the only thing that clears it from the air. It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

  “Look, I didn’t launch into a lecture about volcanic ash health hazards and their long-term effects,” Jeff retorts, raising his hands. As much as I appreciate the fire in Aidan’s eyes and his concern for our well-being, this isn’t really up for discussion.

  “Aidan, this isn’t ideal, but what can we do? We’re guests here. We can’t exactly demand that she let us stay here without her.” I reach out and rest a palm on his bicep. Fighting the urge to squeeze the muscle, I attempt to stay focused even though he’s especially cute when he’s all fired up about something.

  “Could we somehow protect ourselves? Like cover our faces with shirts or something to block out the particles?” Riley asks timidly. Her face takes on a greenish hue and I’m guessing she’s done eating, her appetite squelched by the situation.

  Aidan scratches his head, disappointment lingering on his squared jawline. “If we really have to go, then I guess that’s the best we can do. But anytime we’re outside, we have to keep our nose and mouth covered. Safety glasses would be good too.”

  “Guys, I just remembered,” Riley interjects. “We need gas. I thought we had a few days to figure it out, and I sort of forgot about it, but we were almost on empty when we rolled in here yesterday.”

  “I’ll talk to Rossana,” Jeff volunteers. “Let’s hope the sergeant’s the kind of guy who keeps an extra gas can or two lying around for the lawnmower.”

  With nothing left to say, and no further interest in eating, we clean the kitchen, scraping scraps into the trash and stacking plates and silverware in the sink. Fighting the discomfort of peeking inside someone else’s cupboards, we search for containers to store the remaining uneaten pancakes. I’m not sure there’s any point to sealing them up in a refrigerator in a house that’s about to be abandoned for who knows how long, but we can’t just leave them sitting out.

  When we finish, Riley and I retreat to the spare bedroom to gather our belongings and make the bed. Once the room is back in order and we’re as ready as can be, we wander out to the living room to join the guys. Although they’re nowhere in sight, the pull-out mattress has transformed back into a couch and the guys’ bags sit stoically on the cushions. Voices guide us to the kitchen, where Rossana, Aidan, and Jeff crowd around the dining room table.

  The black device demanding their attention looks like a cross between medical equipment and a CB radio. A series of black digital numbers illuminate on a credit-card-sized green display. About a dozen buttons and switches surround the display, with a large dial directly to the right of it. A coiled black cord snakes around the device, connecting the boxy bulk of it to a handheld receiver.

  Their conversatio
n pauses for a moment as they acknowledge our presence. As the guys bend down to tinker with the radio’s buttons, Rossana excuses herself.

  “Let me see what else I can find for you in the garage. I’ll be right back.” She sweeps down the steps to the lower level with Millie following close behind.

  Riley and I plop down in dining room chairs while the guys play with their new toy. When the radio emits a haze of static, the guys straighten with pride. Riley and I narrow our eyes at the thing. Surely it does more than that.

  Before we can ask what else it does, Rossana returns with a small blue and white package. A smile plays across Aidan’s face as he reaches for the box of disposable dust masks. I can’t help but smile seeing the joy a white coffee-filter-like face covering brings him.

  He opens the package and begins doling out its contents. He looks around to each of us and advises, “From here on out, wear this anytime you’re outside.” When he reaches Rossana, he realizes that although it’s a five pack, there are only four masks remaining. Aidan’s serious eyes shift uncomfortably.

  “Don’t worry about me. I saw an old one on the workbench in our garage. That’ll work for me. You take these.” Aidan expresses a solemn thank you before she offers us one last gift.

  “And we do have a gas can in the shed. Whatever’s in it is all yours. I’ll show you where it is.” Planting a fist on each hip, Jeff announces, “It’s go time, guys!” before he follows her out the door.

  Masks in place, we load both cars and say our final goodbyes to Millie and Rossana. Aidan even convinces her to wear a mask too, so we look like a band of bank robbers readying for a heist. We’re the only ones outside, the neighborhood’s like a ghost town. I’m sure people are there, though, in their homes, curiously peering out at us behind the relative safety of brick and vinyl, fingers cautiously separating curtains and blinds.

  Although the overcast clouds paint a somber mood, excitement swirls within me. We’re finally going home.

  Chapter 54

  Riley and I command the front seat. She drives since she has a better memory of the general route we need to take. Without the satellite phone, we’ve lost access to a GPS and Aidan wants to conserve his phone battery, using it only to talk to his dad.

  The guys attempt to master the ham radio in the back seat, deep in discussion until a ring tone plays through the small space. Aidan scrambles to answer his cell phone. We politely pretend that we aren’t straining to hear the conversation on the other end of the phone. Aidan’s responses consist of a string of “yeah,” “okay,” and “alright.” He voices a few “buts” that drop without further protest.

  The moment the conversation ends, all eyes drift to him in anticipation. He runs a hand through his messy brown hair. I’m starting to prefer it that way. He’d look strange with every hair neatly in place. Besides, his perfectly chiseled features more than make up for the chaotic mane. He releases a deep breath.

  “Well, the plan is a go. My family is already at the caverns, setting up camp for all of us.” His eyes pierce mine when he says us. “So, here’s what we’re thinking.”

  Before going to sleep last night, the guys strategized a plan. They were going to run it by us today, but when our departure date was pushed up there really wasn’t time to discuss the details.

  Aidan and Jeff need the car, and they’re hoping that our aunt will loan us hers—or better yet, come along with us. They propose dropping us off at our aunt’s house, which is only about a mile away from our home. We can collect our dog and convince our aunt to take us home to quickly gather any belongings we deem useful for the foreseeable future, including layers of clothes. Aidan adds that, if we have any to contribute, we should gather canned food—nothing perishable. Otherwise, Aidan’s and Jeff’s parents are planning for the extra mouths to feed.

  While we’re preparing to join them, Aidan will drive Jeff home so he can also gather some useful things, and then they’ll head to the caverns. All we need to do is meet them there.

  It sounds easy, but if there’s anything I’ve learned over the past two months, it’s that I can’t trust anything to work out the way it’s supposed to.

  The rest of the drive is quiet, the eerie calm of the monochromatic landscape washing over us. We pass few other cars. Thick clouds of fog-like ash, roll through the atmosphere, like an unending stream. Highway signs flash big orange letters at us, the font practically screaming: PUBLIC HEALTH EMERGENCY. SHELTER IN PLACE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

  Aidan reiterates general directions to Couturier Caverns. Riley seems to know how to get there. Vague images of a fifth-grade class fieldtrip flit through my mind. Other than my friend Wendy twisting her ankle when she jumped from one giant rock to another, the trip wasn’t exactly notable. Plus, I haven’t been there since. Aidan snaps his fingers beside my ear, yanking me from the memory.

  “Quinn! When we reach the cave, I’ll wait for you two and your aunt. You’ll need to call my cell phone so I can guide you to the right entrance and meet you there.” I nod. Even though Riley and I both lost our cell phones in a car crash, our aunt has one. I’m sure she’ll let me use it.

  Insisting that we write down his cell phone number, Aidan suggests that I search the compartment between my seat and Riley’s for anything we can use to record it. We’re still in Rose’s car, but judging by the dusty dashboard, I’m not sure how much use it got in recent years. Hopefully, she saw the value in stashing a pen and paper somewhere.

  I rummage through sunglasses, a mini ice scraper, a narrow box of tissues, and a wad of long-expired coupons. With no luck there, I fumble through the glove box. Success! A matching notebook and pen, adorned with purple lilacs and yellow butterflies, hides beneath the owner’s manual.

  I glance out the window, but the landscape is consumed by fog. There’s not much to see beyond the highway’s asphalt and shoulder. Even surrounded by the isolating and gloomy remnants of Yellowstone’s wrath, hope grows within me. Maybe we can still beat this, or at least outlast it.

  When I wave the notepad set in the air in victory, Aidan swipes it from my hand, smirking. He leans over it, eagerly jotting down his number.

  “We’re getting close,” Riley mutters nervously.

  “We won’t drive away until we know your aunt is home, okay?” Jeff assures us. “You give us a signal, and if she’s there, you call Aidan as soon as you get on the road for the caverns.”

  “Got it!” I answer for both of us. Aidan passes me the notepad and pen. I shove them into my backpack and turn my attention to the familiar surroundings. Though they’re blanketed by haze, in my mind, I can clearly see every grocery store, mini market, and fast food place.

  “Don’t forget to bring warm clothes,” Aidan advises. “It’s cold down there. Change into pants and long sleeves and make sure you pack sweatshirts and stuff like that too.”

  “We can do that,” I promise.

  With one last nervous smile, Riley turns onto our aunt’s street. Rolling past each familiar house, she shifts the car into park when we reach the driveway. A thick layer of powdery ash smothers the smooth asphalt. What was once a rich black surface now bears the battered remains of what looks like thousands of crushed sticks of sidewalk chalk.

  The last time we were here, our whole family sat in this very spot, in our parents’ car. We made quick work of dropping off Snickers, figuring we would return in one week to pick him up. Part of me is amazed that Riley and I made it this far. It’s an accomplishment that we’re still standing after everything that’s happened.

  Aidan reminds us to affix our dust masks before we throw our bags over our shoulders and slip out of the car. Donning their masks, the guys move fast, exiting the backseat and commanding the driver’s and passenger’s seats.

  They watch intently as we dash toward the two-story brick house belonging to our mother’s sister. Other than the fresh layer of ash coating the usually windswept yard covered with crunchy dead leaves and thin, gnarled branches, the house looks just as
I remember it.

  Before we can ring the doorbell, barking erupts inside the house. The single tear trailing down Riley’s cheek confirms what I sense. Snickers is here. And if he’s here, so is our aunt.

  Chapter 55

  When the door flies open, our startled aunt stares in shock. Her jaw gapes open as her eyes widen. Her mouth moves but no words spill out. Tears gloss over her dark irises, threatening to overflow.

  Her expression grows more confused as her gaze traces the people and objects before her—from our masks to the running car at the end of the driveway. Before she can say anything, a blur of black, white, and brown fur pushes past her and clamors at our knees.

  I turn toward the guys and wave them off. They’ve got their own stops to make. Riley motions to our aunt, pointing inside the house. Muffled by the mask, she says, “We’ve got to go inside.” With a sharp nod, our aunt beckons us in and closes the door as soon as Snickers’ tail clears it.

  We peel off our masks and drop our bags. Hugging us with an unexpected but likely relief-fueled strength, Aunt Robin volleys between indignation and gratitude. “I can’t believe you’re really here! Where have you been? I kept trying to call all of you, for weeks. Even when the phone lines were restored. I just got nothing.” Her brown eyes crest with tears. “I watched the news and imagined the worst.”

  Her resemblance to our mother is both comforting and disarming. The dark, shoulder-length hair and deep brown eyes serve as a reminder of the ones I’ll never see again. Right now, it’s easier to push the memories aside.

  “Where are your parents? What happened?” Her voice wavers, the emotion palpable. She glances toward the door, as if magically summoning our mom and dad to appear.

  Riley and I tag-team, reliving only the briefest details possible to convey how our parents perished. What was supposed to begin a family vacation at the beach turned into a living nightmare in a matter of seconds.