Escaping Darkness (Book 3): Landslide

by Richards, E. S.

  “You better,” Linda sniffed, trying her best to make the words sound serious as her voice broke and cracked. “I want you to see the world renewed with me. I want you by my side as the sun finally breaks through that horrible cloud again.”

  “I do too,” Jerry sighed. “I really do.”

  Holding one another, both Linda and Jerry let themselves truly relax in the other’s arms. It felt natural. It felt real. It felt like the only thing that mattered to them in that moment, the only thing that was worth thinking about. Both of them knew they had to keep going and keep fighting until hopefully their grandchildren and Mia all returned to them. But until then, they just focused on each other. Together, they were one. They were complete and they were happy.

  Chapter 19

  “I just don’t know what to do.” Patrick took another sip from the glass of ale in front of him and let his head rest in his hands. “Harriet was always so much better with these sorts of decisions than I am.”

  Seated at a makeshift log cabin bar that Doctor Reeves had actually built himself at the end of his garden, Patrick, Ethan, Stuart, Vern, the doctor, and two others from the town all shared a drink. It had been two days since Mia and the others left Tanner and those who had remained sensed that it was almost the end. Patrick had a massive decision on his shoulders about whether he should leave Tanner or not, and even more pressing than that was the fact that Vern, Doctor Reeves, and everyone else had all taken a turn for the worst that morning. Many had awoken coughing up blood and Doctor Reeves signaled that that was the beginning of the end.

  “Can I give you some advice?” Ethan asked, leaning forward in his chair and addressing Patrick, trying to focus on something else other than the dying people who surrounded them.

  “Please.”

  “Don’t risk it,” Ethan stated bluntly. “From one father to another who has lost almost everything, just be grateful for what you’ve still got. Sure, you’re not in your own home and sure, you don’t have your own possessions around you. But you’re alive. And your daughter is alive, and you’re together. That’s all that matters. Trust me. Hardly anyone else in this room can say they’re as lucky as you.”

  Patrick sat back in his chair, thinking over what Ethan had just said. Vern leaned forward and held out his glass, clinking it with Ethan’s to show his support for the statement. No one could deny how much sense his words made. The people in one’s life were far more important than anything else; a man could have all the worldly possessions he desired and they would still mean nothing if there was no one to share them with. For in a crowded room you don’t remember who surrounds you, you remember the one face that you wish was by your side.

  “So you think I should stay?”

  “Stay!” Ethan and Stuart chorused, the few drops of alcohol the men had consumed going straight to their heads after days on rationed food and water. That was something none of them had given a great deal of thought to if they stayed in Tanner. Like everywhere else across the country, crops had been destroyed and a shortage of food and clean water would quickly become a problem. Tanner was a small town and fairly self-sufficient. Once they ran out of provisions it would be a long trek to find anything more. Patrick weighed it up in his head as he tried to decide, doing his best to guess whether things would be better or worse in Seattle.

  Leaving the big questions to one side for a minute, he decided to try and enjoy himself for the evening and perhaps that would help him to choose. Throwing back his head, he laughed and took a large gulp from his glass, reminding himself once again how much he’d missed the taste. It was nice to enjoy a few luxury items—as Patrick supposed alcohol was now classified—just a few hours away from the mess of the outside world was something he felt he deserved. It was a thought shared among the group, especially those originally from Tanner. They all knew they had just days left to live—a week at most—so it made sense for them to try and enjoy it as best they could.

  Vern looked over at his friend and smiled. He hoped that Patrick would stay; he wouldn’t say it outright, but Vern believed that Seattle would be a waste of time. Even though it may technically be Patrick’s home, it was highly unlikely he would find things the same way. In Vern’s opinion, it was better to remember things in a positive light and never see them again than re-visit something and find it failed to live up to expectations.

  That was the positive attitude that Vern was trying to keep about what was happening to him. Excusing himself from the group for a second, he made his way back into Doctor Reeves’s house to relieve himself. Even though it had only been a few days, Vern felt like his ears were more finely attuned to noises since losing his voice and as he walked away from the makeshift bar, he listened fondly to the few voices he could hear carrying from it.

  Opening his mouth to speak, Vern released a strangled and desperate sound. It made him cringe every time, pain also shooting through his chest from his lungs as he did so, but he still tried every time he was alone. Losing his voice had been like waving goodbye to a part of himself. It had all happened so quickly no one in Tanner really understood what was going on. Then, one by one, their raspy and breathy voices became quieter and quieter, fading away into nothingness. Even though it was just the beginning of the end, a part of Vern wished he’d been taken at the start along with everyone else.

  Standing in front of the hallway mirror by the back door, Vern opened his mouth and tried again. The horrible strangulated sound returned, like a baby bird trying to call for its mother. Vern hated it. Anger rose inside of him and he started to question what he was doing. His attempts to speak turned into a coughing fit, causing the man to double over and rest a hand against the wall for support. Blood splattered out onto the carpet from his lungs, a sure sign that they were shredded too.

  “Hey, Vern?” A shout came from the bottom of the garden, summoning him back to the group. Both jealousy and sadness filled Vern as he heard it, recognizing Patrick’s voice and wishing with all his heart that he could reply. “Bring down some more wood for the fire, will you?”

  Vern poked his head outside and gave Patrick a thumbs-up, trying his best to hide the fact that he’d just been coughing up his insides. Tanner was getting colder and colder by the hour. He could hardly remember the last time they all saw sunlight and if it wasn’t for the calendar that hung on the wall in front of him in Doctor Reeves’s house, Vern would’ve had a hard time believing it was July. Scooping up more firewood from the wicker basket by the back door, he headed back down to join the party. He wasn’t dead yet and Vern knew he had to continue to live and enjoy life while he could, otherwise he’d end up like some of the unluckier residents of Tanner—found hanging from their bathroom doors.

  “You all right, Vern?” Patrick asked his friend in a low voice once Vern was back in his seat, handing the man another full glass of ale. “Is everything okay?” Despite how outwardly confident and cheerful Vern seemed, Patrick knew that what had happened to his friend must be greatly affecting him. Both Vern and Tracy had sat by and listened to him rant about what had happened with Harriet and Tilly; now it was his turn to repay the favor. Vern might not be able to talk about it. Patrick could still listen. He gave his friend a reassuring smile and handed him a pen and paper, encouraging him to disclose what was going on in his head.

  Vern accepted the page and looked down at it. He didn’t really know how to put everything into words. That was the one saving grace from everyone in Tanner losing their voices. None of them really knew what to say about it and luckily for them, they didn’t have to. But now outsiders had come in and they wanted to know more. Vern didn’t blame Patrick—he was actually grateful for his friend reaching out—he really just didn’t know what words were adequate to describe what he was feeling.

  It’s difficult, Vern wrote, looking up at Patrick afterwards and seeing his friend watching with an encouraging smile on his face. Vern figured he owed it to Patrick to at least try, and if not that, he owed it to himself.

  I
feel like I’ve lost a part of myself. A part of my identity. If I can’t even say my own name, how can I claim to still be the same man? I know in reality it’s all a bit pointless. I’m going to die soon anyway, so I want to die on my own terms. I want to die as me, not as a mute. I can’t even tell my wife how much I love her. I can’t share a joke with my friends. This life isn’t the same as the one I had before and I don’t like it. In truth, I’m glad it’s ending soon.

  Patrick accepted the page from his friend, reading the words very carefully before he replied. This wasn’t just a chat in a bar, this was a conversation about the most important thing in the world and he wanted to make sure he got things right.

  “I’m not going to suggest I know how you’re feeling,” Patrick started. “I’d like to think I’ve got a pretty good idea—about your voice at least.” He chose his words carefully, not breaking eye contact with Vern while everyone else in the little bar left them to their discussion. “You’ve lost a part of yourself and that hurts—that’s how I feel about Harriet. I suppose the difference is…” Patrick paused, trying to figure out what to say. Vern looked up at him expectantly, waiting for whatever Patrick would add.

  “I’m sorry,” Patrick continued. “I’m not as good at this as you are, Vern. I don’t know what I can say that’ll make you feel better. Nothing is going to bring your voice back or grant you a life again, just like nothing will bring Harriet and Tilly back for me. It’s like you said after I first arrived here: we need to focus on what we still have. We’re both alive for the time being, and we need to make every moment count. We’ve got each other, and Allie and Tracy too. While we can, we need to be thankful for what we have.”

  Vern nodded, trying not to express on his face how saddened he was by Patrick’s response. He didn’t know what he had expected to hear, nor even what he’d wanted to hear. Still, Patrick’s response didn’t satisfy him. Still, Vern scribbled a Thank you down on his piece of paper, aware that his friend was trying to help him. He wouldn’t hold a grudge for that—everyone was going through an impossible time in their life and he couldn’t expect anyone to be the savior for the others. They all had their own battles and no one could win them but themselves.

  I think I’m going to head back inside.

  “Vern, please,” Patrick was instantly filled with guilt, ashamed of himself for not being able to make his friend feel better. Vern wouldn’t budge. Leaving his half-empty glass on the side, he nodded goodbye to everyone in the bar and headed back out into the windstorm outside. The rush of cold air that snuck in as the door swung open chilled everyone in the bar to their bones, reminding them just how dangerous things were outside. It was all right sitting in front of a fire with a cold beer now. Still, how many terrible things had already happened in order to get them to that point?

  Patrick suddenly no longer felt like drinking. He felt bad about how Vern had reacted, blaming himself for not being there for him. When he’d needed them, Vern and Tracy had been nothing but considerate, and when the shoe was on the other foot, he had let them down. Perhaps things weren’t better off if he stayed in Tanner. Maybe going back to Seattle immediately was the right decision. Maybe he needed to leave his friends to themselves in their final days—perhaps that was the best way he could help them.

  “I’m going to call it a night too, I think,” Patrick updated the group, downing the contents of his glass. “Thanks for the beers, Doc. Any more and I think my head will be too fuzzy in the morning. It’s probably best to quit while I’m ahead.”

  The mood in in the room seemed to have changed all around. Neither Ethan nor Stuart said anything to Patrick in farewell, everyone suddenly becoming reclusive and depressed by their situations. Maybe alcohol hadn’t been the best idea. Stepping outside into the open air, Patrick tugged the collar of his coat up around his neck and secured his scarf over his mouth and nose. After what had happened to the former residents of Tanner, he wasn’t taking any chances with his lungs or larynx.

  Despite telling everyone he was going to head to bed, Patrick didn’t feel like lying down just yet. Exiting through the side gate of Doctor Reeves’s garden, he strolled out onto the sidewalk, his boots leaving prints on the ashy ground as Patrick paced away from the house and toward the woods behind the town. He passed the house where Billy was recovering, looking in briefly as he knew Allie was inside with Deb and Miles. At least his daughter was happy. So long as Deb’s dog Corker was by her side at the moment, then there was always a smile on her face.

  Walking with his hands stuffed into his pockets, Patrick did his best to keep warm. A chill was rapidly settling throughout Tanner, so much so that he wouldn’t have been surprised if he woke to snow as well as ash coating the ground tomorrow. Allie would really love that, but Patrick knew it wouldn’t be a happy morning if they did wake to snow. For the weather to change like that so dramatically at this time of the year, it would indicate that the eruption of Yellowstone was doing more long-term damage than any of them could have anticipated.

  Patrick wondered how far Mia, Jorge, and the others had made it by now and whether they had managed to find any of the answers each of them were searching for. Patrick had grown very fond of Mia and had been sad to see her go, but he knew she was doing what was best for her and her family. He needed to do the same. Staring out into the distance as the world crumbled around him, Patrick desperately tried to figure out what that was.

  Chapter 20

  “It what?!” Jorge couldn’t believe what he was hearing, completely thrown by what Mia had just told him. “It shouldn’t have been in operation for the last three years!”

  Mia nodded. “Yeah, that’s what it says. The site was forcibly closed over three years ago.”

  “¡Dios mio! That’s ridiculous!” Jorge exclaimed, gesturing passionately toward the fracking site outside of the car window. “Look at it! Even I can tell that was in use no less than a month ago. There’s no way that’s been closed down for three years.”

  “I know,” Mia agreed. “This has got to be linked in some way.”

  “Sorry,” Jadon interrupted as he leaned forward again from the back seat, he, Jesse, and Marcus all listening in to the conversation but not necessarily following it. “What’s going on? What’s this old place got to do with things?”

  “Everything!” Jorge blurted out, his emotions bubbling over as he slowly started to think through it all. He didn’t really know how to feel. Half of him was absolutely outraged that fracking activity had been going on so close to Yellowstone, especially after everyone was made aware of how dangerous it could be. The other half of him loved it. There would be someone to blame—a real and outright cause for what had happened. If they could get to the bottom of who had continued operations at the fracking site then they could hold someone responsible for all of this. Jorge could hardly control himself; he knew whoever was the one to break the news about this would be remembered forever. He could see the television interviews now, hear the reporters in his ears. This was exactly what he had wanted to happen and more.

  “Fracking has been found to be one of the main causes for tectonic plate shifts and minor quakes beneath the Earth’s surface,” Mia explained, leaving Jorge to his imaginings. “We’re what? A couple hundred miles from the eruption site? But what most people don’t know is how far a volcano can stretch underground. Movement in the Earth here will almost certainly have affected the stability of Yellowstone. And what’s more, I bet that there are records here that prove it.”

  “Well we should go and get them then!” Jesse piped up, the young man hearing what Mia was saying and realizing—much like Jorge—that they all had a chance to be heroes.

  “It’s not that easy,” Mia silenced Jesse, giving him a stern look and stopping him from reaching for the door handle. “The air around here is extremely toxic. Wearing scarves around our faces is one thing, but I’m worried it won’t be enough. After what we’ve just seen, I’m not sure whether stepping out of this car again is worth
the risk.”

  “Mia, come on,” Jorge replied in an exasperated manner, the Spaniard more than ready to step outside. “We have to do this. We’re scientists. We were studying this exact thing before Yellowstone erupted. If anyone was meant to make this discovery, it’s us. We can’t just walk away and leave all of this behind.”

  “Are you willing to risk your life for it?”

  “I am,” Jorge nodded. “I always have been. We’ve spoken about this before, come on. You can’t deny that there must be a small part of you that wants to see the records kept inside this site.”

  Mia considered Jorge’s words, knowing already that he was right. She was desperate to find out if her theory was correct—it was something she’d been investigating for months before Yellowstone erupted. It was the whole reason for their research team even being in the area when it happened. She knew that if she drove away from the fracking site without finding out the truth, she would regret it for years to come. But she would have those years to regret it. If she stepped outside now and inhaled too much of the poisonous air, how much would she cut her life expectancy down by? She longed for the proper gas masks that she and Jorge had taken from the plane after the crash landing, the high-tech equipment yet another thing stolen by the lahars. Their protection now was minimal—Mia questioned whether it would be enough.

  “How would we even get in?” She finally spoke, slowing convincing herself that she did want to enter the site. “The gate is locked and we don’t have a key.”

  “A key?” Jorge repeated, a smile creeping onto his face. “Mia, we have a car. That gate won’t take much to bring down, trust me.”