Devastation Erupts

by A E Faulkner

  He clutches his forehead and squeezes as if ridding his mind of all thought. “There’s nothing any of us can do. Jeff needs a doctor, or a hospital, but Matt says it’s a mess out there. The military is setting up those safety communes and they’re filling up as fast as they’re set up.”

  Dropping his palms to his sides, he squeezes his eyes shut. “Matt was our best connection to the outside world, and to getting any help, and now he’s got to go. Their parents are a wreck. There’s nothing anyone can do. Everything’s just falling apart. Everything my dad planned…it’s falling apart.”

  We’re helpless. Even with adults here and making the decisions, there are no clear solutions. Frustration is wearing on everyone. When we arrived, the mood down here was positive and cooperative as the others rushed to sort supplies. Now somberness hangs like dark clouds in the chilled air.

  “What about the safety communes?” Riley asks thoughtfully. “Could we go there? If they have medical people there, maybe they would let us in and help us.”

  “You heard Taves,” Aidan mutters with defeat. “He said we’re in a secondary zone. We pretty much need to behave and stay self-sufficient until they’re able to help us.”

  “Besides,” he adds. “From what Matt describes, these communes are like warehouses. Rows of beds and cots with sheets hanging between families as privacy curtains. Community bathrooms and showers. Limited food rations. Other than having no medical people, I think we have it better down here.”

  “That sounds pretty awful,” I agree. At least down here Riley and I have our own room, even if it only has three walls. And I’m not worried about our safety with Aidan’s and Jeff’s families. But a warehouse full of strangers? With only a sheet to shield us and the last of our belongings from people who will probably grow more desperate for stability each day?

  “Anyway, I’ve got to get back out there. I’d like to catch Matt before he goes,” Aidan says.

  I already miss the fire that sometimes flares behind those blue eyes. Right now, it’s smothered with worry and defeat.

  “Do you need some help?” I ask, trying not to broadcast my anticipation. There’s so little to look forward to right now but the physical closeness of being his crutch brings me comfort.

  “No, I can do it.” His words sting. Dropping my gaze to the ground, I swish my stringy hair forward in an attempt to cover my cheeks, which flush crimson with battered pride.

  “Oh, hey.” He must sense my hurt, but I’d rather his indifference than pity. “Quinn, I love using you as a crutch. It’s just…I don’t want the others to know about my ankle. Everyone’s got enough to worry about. The last thing they need is to see me hobbling around here like I’m half-helpless.”

  Even in the midst of our setbacks, I suppress a smile. It’s not me. He just doesn’t want to worry his family. “I understand. It’s okay.” I shake my head casually, as if I’ve got no cares in the world.

  “So, what should we do now,” Riley asks, rocking on her heels awkwardly. “We told your dad we could help with whatever he needed. He brought us here to show us our room, but that’s as far as we got.”

  Aidan rakes a hand through his hair, which has lost the wayward tufts I’ve grown accustomed to. I’m guessing the days of not washing have a lot to do with it.

  “Well, I know he’s already sent my sisters up to bring down as much as they can carry. I think he wants to get all the stuff down here and then work on sealing the door.”

  Riley and I nod gravely. We knew this was coming. But we also know that it lessens the chances of our aunt joining us down here. I don’t believe she has any intention of leaving her home, but the unknowns frighten me. What if she’s forced to leave? What if someone tries to hurt her? The unanswered questions will spiral on a repeated loop and consume my thoughts if I let them.

  “Let’s head back out to the main area. The sooner we can get the rest of the supplies down here, the sooner we can get some rest. I don’t know about you two, but I was ready to call it a day about five hours ago.”

  Too weary to even nod, Riley and I follow Aidan back through the maze of tunnels.

  Chapter 75

  We find the others crowded together in Jeff’s room, alternating between wishing Matt luck and sniffling back their sadness. Aidan’s family files out first, heading to the stone steps leading upward. Rather than intrude on Matt’s send-off, I nod to Riley in a silent understanding and we trail just a few steps behind Aidan’s dad.

  Eyes wide with surprise, he waves us off. “You girls relax. You’ve done enough work today. We’ll take care of the rest.” Relief floods my muscles, relaxing my entire frame. I didn’t realize my neck and shoulders were stiff until those words granted us reprieve.

  “Thank you,” Riley answers. Together, we return to our room and collapse on the mattress. Lying on my side, I turn away from my sister and allow guilt to silently stream from my eyes. My thoughts turn to Jeff. As if everything isn’t bad enough, he’s hurt and if we weren’t here, the accident never would have happened. I hold my body as still as possible, just further fraying my nerves.

  After replaying scenarios of how much better off Aidan and Jeff would be if they never met us, exhaustion finally takes hold and my vision floats in and out of focus. Our loyal ball of fur hops onto the bed and curls up between us. Swiping away the silent tears, I bury my face in the tiny pillow. My senses fade and I enter a state of desolate relaxation.

  My body must freeze in place because the next sensation I feel is a gentle shaking, pulling me from the dark haze of sleep. Forcing my groggy eyes to flutter open, Aidan’s face appears inches from my own.

  “Is there anyone alive in there?” he asks as he peers at me, awaiting a reaction. Arching my back, I stretch my arms over my head, compelling my muscles to wake. Everything aches. Warm wetness confirms that my mouth was even too weak to hold back its contents. I swipe away a line of drool dribbling from the corner of my mouth and across my cheek to meet the pillow.

  Aidan eyes the darkened wet spot on the pillowcase. “Well, that is definitely yours from now on. You kind of claimed it.” He covers his mouth, pretending to hide a chuckle.

  “Very funny,” I croak. Geez, even my throat craves more rest.

  “Sorry.” His smile conveys anything but regret. “Anyway, my dad sent me to get you two. And I’m not even gonna try to wake her.” He points at Riley. He’s known her long enough to shy away from the nearly impossible task of waking her.

  “What’s up? Did something happen?” Worry expedites my initial hesitance to move.

  “No, no. It’s getting to be dinner time and he wants us all to be on the same schedule. Plus, you two need the tour. There’s a place for everything and everything has a place. My dad loves to say that.” He rolls his eyes. “Just come out to the main room when you’re ready.”

  “Aidan? Is there somewhere we can freshen up?” I cringe, already disliking whatever answer he’ll give.

  “Hold that thought. It’s part of the tour.”

  After several minutes of coaxing Riley awake, I explain that our presence is requested in the main room. The hint of a salty, beefy scent drifts to my nose. I hope it’s not some kind of aroma oasis and my mind is tricking me into believing that delicious hot food awaits us.

  Riley catches a whiff too. Her eyes perk open wide and she waggles her eyebrows. “Smell that?” I nod. Neither of us can restrain hunger-induced smiles. Hastily, we run fingers through the rats’ nests that were once stick-straight brown manes. I track fingertips around my lips, checking for any dried drool spots. Straightening our shirts and pants from any residual slumber bunching, we’re as presentable as it gets.

  Allowing the aroma to serve as our guide, we stride toward the main room.

  Chapter 76

  The group’s been busy in the time we slept. New stacks of supplies, what must have been the remaining cartons at the top of the stairs, now line the room. Three small metal folding tables are clustered in the center of the space.
Folding chairs stand at attention, tucked just beneath the surface of each table. Enough for all of us.

  Each of the ten place settings comprises a plastic plate, flannel cloth napkin, and a utensil set that may be a folded pocketknife that grew a fork on one side and a spoon on the other.

  Aidan’s dad is the first to greet us. “Thanks for joining us. We’ll talk more at dinner, but would you two like to visit the washroom before we get started?”

  I nod furiously, unable to contain my excitement. “Washroom? Yes!” Could it be? An actual bathroom down here?

  “Aidan, why don’t you show these ladies where they can wash up before dinner?” Wash up? Like with soap and steamy water? It feels like the dampness and darkness of our current accommodations have erased any trace of the last shower I had. My only consolation is that Riley and Aidan must be just as dusty and dirty as I am right about now.

  Obliging, Aidan moseys over, grabbing a lantern and beckoning for us to follow him. Several tunnels jut out from the main room. He chooses the middle one. The dim light of the lantern bounces off the enclosure as we walk. Sections of the rock wall glisten from drips of water slithering down them. It’s unnerving how drops randomly land on me. Where’s the source? I could ask Aidan but then he’d probably launch into a twenty-minute explanation. And I’ve got more pressing questions right now.

  Once we’re out of earshot, I tap his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell us there’s an actual bathroom here?”

  Slowing his pace, he scratches his head and clenches his teeth as if a sudden discomfort has overtaken him. “Um…well, because my dad likes to…he sometimes likes to make things sound somewhat…better than they actually are.”

  This time I grab his shoulder, halting any forward movement. “What do you mean exactly?”

  Pressed against a wall, figuratively and almost literally, he paints us a mental map of the set-up.

  The washroom consists of a portable toilet that the dads will take turns emptying. I don’t ask where exactly and I hope to never find out. Aidan explains that the full tank can weigh more than thirty pounds, and no one wants that spilling, so only those comfortable lifting at least thirty pounds are allowed to empty it. I will gladly shirk that duty. Of course, Aidan interjects that he could easily carry that weight, but he’s willing to pretend that he can’t in this case.

  Allegedly the toilet has some feature to contain the smell. I guess we’ll see. That brings Aidan to his next point, and the next part of the tour. The wash part of washroom. Apparently, there’s another set of steps at this end of the cavern. They lead to a few small rooms with shallow pools of water as well as one large opening that contains an interior lake. There’s even a small dock and a few motorboats that were used to ferry tourists along the canal-like routes between rock formations.

  We’ll use those only if we have to, but for now we’ve got to finish setting up this tiny working community.

  Next, Aidan introduces us to the bathing room. It’s located at the very edge of the cavern, a hike away from the main room. I can see why they chose this one. Thick rock walls enclose all but the narrow opening. We squeeze through to peer into the dark space. Its depth within the cave system offers privacy but with that comes little light.

  “You’ll need to bring a lantern with you anytime you come here,” Aidan explains. “And there’s a…schedule,” he coughs on the word, “so that everyone has privacy and it’s clear when this room is in use.”

  “Geez, your dad really loves details, huh?” Riley asks.

  Aidan chuckles. “That’s an understatement.” He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I know it sounds kind of overwhelming, but we do need order, and having a schedule that we all follow just sets this up to work like a well-oiled machine.”

  I’m guessing that throughout his life he’s heard that phrase more times than I can count.

  “Okay, so we all share one tiny toilet and the same bathwater. What else you got?” I don’t mean to sound unappreciative, but I wouldn’t mind some surprise amenity right now. Like maybe there’s some stealthy snack bar tucked away down here, and if we just flip a switch, some hot cheesy nachos will pop out of a secret compartment in the wall. Or maybe there’s a movie room where they show videos about how the cave formed and other sleep-inducing topics. But we could rig it to show actual movies. Yep, we’ll visit the snack bar and load up on junk food and then settle in to watch a movie. As long as it’s not about cave-dwelling monsters whose hobbies include dining on humans.

  “Wait,” Riley interjects. “What about Snickers? Where will he…you know, do his business?”

  “My dad has a designated space for that too. I’ll show you on our way back to the main supply room.” The reality of our current accommodations permeates my muscles like a dense weight. How long will we have to live like this?

  When I tune back into the conversation, Aidan’s explaining something about another room like the one we just left. It will be used to wash dishes.

  “And nothing but organic soap,” Aidan proclaims. “Chemicals could cause a lot of damage down here, so we have natural cleaners to use when we wash dishes or bathe.”

  So much for that magic snack bar and movie theater.

  Before returning to the main cavern, we take turns using the washroom facilities and rinsing our hands in the bathing room water. And to think I was once worried about walking around without shoes in an arcade-pizza place.

  Although the tour was a little disappointing, there’s still a hot meal coming my way. That becomes more apparent with each step. The heavenly scent grows stronger, sending my stomach into a churning frenzy.

  “Ah, just in time,” Aidan’s dad greets us. He sweeps an arm over the one empty table and motions for us to sit. Aidan’s sisters and mom sit at one table, one empty seat for his dad. Jeff’s parents sit at the other table. Although Jeff’s positioned between then, he’s reclined in a lawn chair. How’s he going to eat like that? His face is downcast, and misery emanates from his spirit like smoke from a doused fire.

  Someone must have carried him out here. There’s no way he could have walked. Instantly I mourn for the Jeff I met just weeks ago. The one that smiled and laughed all the time. My heart aches for what he’s lost, and I pray that it’s temporary.

  We take our seats and Aidan’s dad passes a large bowl of chili to each table. We serve ourselves family-style. While everyone is busy dishing out their dinner, Riley whispers to Aidan, “Why isn’t Jeff sitting up?” I guess she noticed too. Glancing around as if to gauge if anyone is paying us any attention, Aidan uncomfortably answers under his breath.

  “He tried to sit up earlier before Matt left and he got really lightheaded. We had to lower him right back down. I bet it happened again before we got back from your tour.”

  Inhaling a deep breath, I try to exhale the overwhelming guilt that consumes my mind. If we hadn’t come here, Snickers wouldn’t be here, and he wouldn’t have tripped Jeff on the steps.

  I force down a few bites of food, but my hunger has dissipated, replaced by remorse. Since we’re all gathered, Aidan’s dad decides to use the time to explain how things will work while we’re down here. I’m grateful for a distraction.

  He explains that all of the cooking equipment is set up now. It includes a camping stove and cook station, among other things I don’t know how to use. Although we have freeze dried meals, we’ll use up the fresh food first. Then we’ll start fishing in the interior lake. In case we end up down here longer than expected, we’ve got to ration our food carefully.

  I hate seafood and the thought of catching, cooking, and eating fish nearly turns my stomach. Pushing the thought from my head—I’ll deal with that when it happens. Meanwhile, I savor every delightful bite of chili.

  Chapter 77

  When dinner ends, we all collect the dirty dishes and utensils. Aidan’s mom volunteers herself and her daughters to wash them. His dad approaches us, asking if we can take care of sealing the door. He’s got to help re
locate Jeff and clear away the folding furniture for the evening. And now that Matt’s gone, he doesn’t plan on opening it for a few weeks.

  Riley and I scrunch our faces, no idea how to fulfill his request. But Aidan nods somberly. “Sure.”

  We trek back up the stairs empty-handed. Riley and I can claim complete ignorance, but Aidan seems to understand what his dad needs. I’m surprised we aren’t bringing any tools with us.

  When we reach the top of the steps, the space looks bigger, more open than I remember. Other than a small pile of hardware, some long tubes, and a drill, the lack of boxes, along with the absence of our makeshift camp, colors the space with a dull emptiness.

  “So what’s the plan?” Riley asks the question that’s consuming my mind as well.

  Aidan lifts a giant screw. It’s longer and thicker than any carrot our garden ever produced. But its sharp point and threaded snaking tendrils create a much more ominous tone than a harmless orange vegetable.

  “We’re going to take these, a bunch of them, and drive them, like spikes, through the frame and into the door. They’ll hold the door in a closed position until we’re ready to remove them and open it.”

  That sounds barbaric. I can tell Aidan’s not exactly thrilled about this task, so I don’t voice my opinion.

  “Then, once it’s sealed that way, we take the rolls of plastic sheeting and cover the frame. Kind of a weak attempt to block the air flow. But, it’s better than nothing.”

  “Are you qualified to do all this?” I ask, inspecting the array of tools before us. “Maybe your dad should be here too?” He shakes his head in mock indignation.

  “I’ve helped him with home improvement projects for years. Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” he says. As if to prove his point, he sets to work.

  Dropping the screw and snatching the drill, Aidan stands tall, eyeing where he’ll bore the first hole. Those crystal blue eyes zoom into focus, calculating angles and depth. After a few seconds, he raises the drill but hesitates before depressing the trigger.