by David Holley
The Lockhearts bring up the rear, attending to Josette, who is faring poorly, vomiting from what Evelyn has decided is nothing more than pure exhaustion. With precious fluids pouring out of her and her strength diminishing, Noah has no choice but to sling her over his back in a fireman’s carry. He shoulders her weight through the fields of grass as she hangs listlessly in his arms.
It is mid-afternoon when the survivors are treated to their first glimpse of civilization. After a grueling eight-day hike through the most desolate stretch of New Zealand, Atua has led the lost travelers to the promised highway. Never has a stretch of winding asphalt seemed so welcoming. Several actually jump for joy, cheering in exultation, while others collapse by the roadside. Resting their tired bodies, they wait for the others to trickle in, one after the other, until finally, the Lockhearts cross the threshold, an unresponsive Josette drooping in Noah’s grasp.
Most of the others had been unaware of Josette’s condition and express concern, but Evelyn assures them that she is only dehydrated and exhausted. Everyone gathers at the roadside — except for Maaka and Pango who have continued to press on; refusing to be burdened by the others, they are no longer visible, and their whereabouts are unknown. While the road is a welcome sight, Atua informs them that they are still far from the nearest town. Several express hope that they will come across a passing car, but with the sun starting to plummet, Noah knows that they will need to seek some sort of shelter before long. He confers with Atua and Hiroshi about the road ahead, while the others give each other high-fives and words of encouragement, sensing their ordeal is almost over.
After a short respite, Noah informs the group that they will continue walking until they can find a proper place to set up camp for the evening. Josette, now lucid and invigorated by the sight of the highway, insists that she is feeling better and that she can continue under her own steam. They start again, sticking together this time, traveling down the paved road in two long rows at a quickened pace.
An hour later, and not a single car has passed, nor is there any sign that they are nearing civilization. The brisk pace has slowed considerably. During the ebb in enthusiasm, they are violently reminded why they set forth on this perilous journey in the first place. The road begins to shake and heave, finally giving way, sending several people crashing to the asphalt, as the earth roils and quakes. Those who are still on their feet help the others who have fallen and, following Noah’s lead, they make their way to a nearby field of tall grass.
The quake is powerful and continues to rattle and shake for over a minute. Then, an earsplitting crack sounds above the din of the rattling earth. The sound is so deafening that the crew cowers to the ground and muffles their ears. After several agonizing moments, the earthquake seems to have ceased, and in its wake, the dazed travelers stumble about, gaping at one another. A few begin to cry, but most appear detached, having become desensitized to the series of seismic disruptions they have had to endure since their journey began. Noah cautiously ventures back to the highway, which has been split in half, with a long jagged crevice that stretches the length of the road in both directions for as far as the eye can see.
“Bloody hell,” Noah curses, scratching the top of his sweat-soaked head.
“That was a hellacious quake,” says Atua, stating the obvious as he inspects the cracked highway.
Noah takes a sweeping inventory. “Is everyone alright?”
His question is greeted with some casual nods but nothing more. The mood has shifted and whatever good vibes there were have been shaken away. All that remains are the frayed ends of their fleeting hope. With nothing else to do, they keep moving, this time in a long line on the side of the road. They follow the twisting road until it straightens out like an arrow, pointing to what appears to be a sanctuary in the middle of nowhere.
Atua spots it first and alerts the others. “Everybody look! It’s a house! It’s a house!” he shouts twice, as if not believing his words the first time.
Cheers of joy ring out as Noah steps to the fore with his binoculars. “It’s a barn actually,” he corrects. “But it’s cover and looks like a perfect spot to spend the night.”
He continues to scan the area, but the stable sits alone, nestled in a sea of rolling grasslands. Hill after hill of what must be grazing land for cattle or most likely sheep would serve as a perfect shelter for his band of traveling gypsies. The barn doors stand open, but there is no sign of anything or anyone. Noah tells what he has seen and advises that they proceed with caution. But with the end of their hike now in view, the pace has quickened once again. They near the whitewashed building, which appears as old as the country itself. Its ragged roof of chipped and shattered slate tiles look like broken plates scattered across the massive A-frame.
As the group climbs the path toward the barn, they are thrilled to see a water pump anchored to a square cement base. Noah gives it a few quick pulls and in little time, well water starts pouring out of it. Atua cups his hands and takes a small gulp before looking back at Noah, smiling and nodding his head. Several people cheer and pull out their bottles to refill their supplies as others continue toward the shelter.
When they enter the stable, they find that it is already occupied. Maaka and Pango lie casually on bails of hay, passing a bottle of Jameson back and forth. Maaka’s shirt is off, exposing a hairless chest and thick, chiseled arms covered in red and black tattoos of varying styles and subjects that appear as schizophrenic as his bloodshot eyes.
“What the hell took you so long?” he asks, his speech slurred. As he pulls himself up, he burrows both hands in his jean pockets and begins to scratch himself in a manner both crude and undignified.
“You’re pissed!” Atua announces. “Where the bleeding hell did you get that?” He points at the bottle, which is currently between Pango’s lips, in the midst of a long pull.
“Here in the barn… guess it gets mighty cold and lonely with the sheep, eh?” Maaka’s smile is long and dastardly. “We already kicked the Scotch; you wanna taste of the Irish?”
“Bugger off,” Atua snaps, unable to mask his anger.
The others file into the barn and walk aimlessly around their new digs. It’s a Spartan dwelling, its dirt floor littered with scraps of hay and pieces of rope pressed in the earth, like flowers in a book. The walls are weathered planks that let narrow strips of dappled light across the great ceiling of the two-hundred-year-old sanctuary. Along the walls, random shelves hold tin cans full of nails and bolts and other objects. A centerfold is tacked along the far wall, depicting a buxom blonde who gazes over her left shoulder with big blue eyes, her mouth slightly open. She wears nothing but a smile and cherry patterned stiletto heels, leaving little to the imagination. Near the bottom right of the poster is her signature in a bubbly script that reads, Cassidy Layne XOXO.
In the middle of the barn leans a rickety ladder to the loft filled with bushels of prickly golden hay. A long pitchfork stands on its end, held in place by the bale that it harpoons. Squeals of delight echo through the chamber when toilet paper is discovered in a tall metal cabinet, its orange enamel peeling and oxidized. There is also a ream of duct tape, a length of rope, two chrome torches, an empty bottle of Glenfiddich, and a radio, which Noah immediately attempts to wind up.
“It’s puckeroo mate,” barks Maaka. “I already gave it a go.”
Noah hands the radio to Hiroshi. “Did you find it like that?” he asks, his focus squarely on the drunken sailor. The mint green plastic base of the radio is cracked and caved in, the tuning dial conspicuously absent.
“I already told you it was buggered. And my mum always said if it doesn’t work, to give it a good bang. So that’s what I did.” His glance wavers ever so slightly.
Noah shoots him a troubled look. “You do realize this is a wind-up radio, do you not?
“I gotta piss,” Maaka announces before walking out of the barn, staggering left and then sharply right.
Showing remarkable restraint, Noah says n
othing more before turning to Hiroshi. “Can it be fixed?”
“I don’t think so.” Hiroshi shakes his head, but then changes his mind. “Maybe if we could figure out how to solder some of these components….”
“Leave it for now,” Noah dismisses. “We can tackle that when we get back. I was hoping you could join me to scout for something to eat.”
Hiroshi rests the radio on top of the cabinet. “I’m starved. Let’s do it.”
Noah checks to see if the torches work, which they do, and hands one of them to Hiroshi. He stows the rope and the duct tape into his backpack. As people make themselves comfortable, Noah tells Evelyn of his mission and asks her to set up a fire well clear of the barn. With light waning and their stomachs grumbling, the hunting party disappears over a hill.
Hours have passed since Noah and Hiroshi set off. The sky is black as pitch now, and no light from the stars or moon is visible. Most of the weary are gathered around a large fire. The air is tense with irritation and hunger. The mood has only deteriorated, fueled by the drunken antics of Maaka and Pango. Before day gave way to night, Maaka had picked a fight with his brother, sending Atua storming off, Mia nipping at his heels. Shortly thereafter, it was Alice’s turn, as Maaka informed her that she was “barking up the wrong tree,” which sent her scurrying off in a flurry of tears. Most of the others did their best to avoid the drunken buffoonery and when provoked, sat quietly and tolerated the taunts until the fishermen grew bored and moved on to another victim.
When the whiskey runs out, so does Maaka and Pango’s luck. The two of them encircle Max, calling him a filthy Ashlander, and doing their worst to unnerve the young Sinclair. When Luna comes to his aid, trying her best to diffuse the situation, the belligerent Maaka pushes her aside, sending her tumbling to the ground. But Noah and Hiroshi have returned — empty-handed and ill-humored — just in time to see.
Hiroshi explodes and charges at full speed toward Maaka, only to be thwarted by Pango who steps in between the two, grabbing Hiroshi by the throat before throwing him hard to the ground. Just as the giant is about to follow with a right cross, his fist is blocked by the sweeping forearm of Noah, who counters with a right elbow shiver to the chin, followed by a thunderous knee to the groin and finished with a devastating punch to the liver. The towering Pango crashes hard to the ground, writhing in pain. Noah takes a moment to watch the big man fall, as if admiring his work, before setting his sights on Maaka. But just as he lunges for his next victim, Atua, arriving late to the scene, intercedes, pleading for the two to stop before they begin. Atua pushes his brother away and orders him to take a walk. He saunters off, whistling “London Bridge Is Falling Down.”
Evelyn rushes to her husband but he halts her advance with a raised hand, and walks away in the opposite direction of Maaka. She turns her attention to Pango, who is still on all fours sucking wind. She places her hand on his enormous back and asks a few questions, to which he responds in series of nods. Her focus is diverted yet again by the others’ curiosity and when she looks up to see what the fuss is all about, her interest is piqued as well. Falling from the black sky are misshapen pieces of something featherlike. They circle and dance before landing harmlessly on the ground. She reaches her hand out to catch one of the fallen pieces of sky and places her other hand over it as she does.
Luna looks on curiously. “What is it, Eve?”
Evelyn rubs her hands together gently, revealing a long streak of black soot. “It’s ash,” she whispers. She looks to the heavens once more as she gives voice to her darkest fear. “Volcanic ash.”
Chapter 19
Little Leilu hides behind Luna, clutching a handful of her mother’s skirt as she often does when in the presence of strangers. But the people she is hiding from aren’t strangers at all. Luna looks down at her daughter who peeks ever so slightly from her side.
“It’s okay, Lulu.”
Her hand rests on top of her child’s soft-as-silk raven hair, pulled tight into pigtails.
She looks up at her mother, her mouth slightly agape and her eyes wide with curiosity. “Who are they?” she whispers, looking at the strangers smiling warmly at her. She buries her head into her mother’s leg.
Luna turns to face her daughter and kneels so that she can look into her eyes. “It’s your grandmother and your Aunt Kayo. Remember those pictures I showed you? They will take care of you now.”
Leilu breaks eye contact with her mother and looks down at her feet. Her red leather Mary Janes rock up and down, as they do when she’s nervous. “But… where will you be?”
Luna smiles. “I will be here Lulu. But I will see you again. I promise.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.” Luna grabs her daughter and pulls her close, hugging her tightly before handing her off to her sister. She smiles at her mother and her sister, who look back sadly. No words are passed as they turn and slowly walk away. Luna watches, unable to move, a lump growing in her throat. Off in the distance, she observes an ominous cloud looming, darkening the blue skies and expanding at an alarming rate. Leilu cries out for her mother but her sorrowful pleas are snuffed out by the rumbling skies. Her tiny arm reaches out for her mother as tears stream down her face.
“Leilu!” her mother screams.
Luna opens her eyes and blinks several times as the outline of her husband comes into focus. Hiroshi stares out a window, and for a brief moment, she forgets where she is. She sits up suddenly. “What time is it?”
Hiroshi looks to her, startled, before glancing at his watch. “It’s 6:13.”
“It’s so dark out,” she yawns, wiping her eyes, moist with tears. She pulls herself up from the straw bed and walks to her husband. The room is cast in a cold blue light, as if it were early evening, and the barn is still, except for the rumbling sounds of snoring. As she nears the window, she sees a world that she doesn’t recognize. The days of lush green views and the beautifully untamed wilderness are no more. In its place is a cold grey world filled with ash and dirty black soot.
“Oh my God,” she whispers.
Hiroshi looks at her gravely and kisses her softly on her forehead. “I’m going to find Noah.”
She nods, but no sound escapes her lips. From her second-floor window, Luna tries to decipher the world outside. The road is hidden by a blanket of accumulated ash, which still falls at a steady pitch. In fact, everything is covered in the grey soot. It appears that all the color in the world has been removed, leaving shades of grey in its place. The sky is dark, menacing, and circulating in a mortal coil, like a painted ceiling of fire and smoke.
“It’s horrible,” she utters, putting her hand across her face as fresh tears begin to fall.
“What is it?” asks a small voice from behind.
Luna turns to see Mia and points out the window. “Look.”
Mia says nothing, but her face speaks volumes. After a long moment of quiet she comes alive suddenly. “What does this mean?” she demands. “Do you think they have already evacuated everyone? Are we going to be stuck here?”
Luna looks at the young girl, hypnotized momentarily by her sad, jade eyes. “I don’t know, Mia. I don’t know any more than you.”
They share a hug as Luna peers out the window once more. This time she spots Hiroshi venturing out into the monochromatic world. He looks up to the window and sees Luna staring down at him; he waves at her as she places her hand against the window. He wears a lightweight, hunter-green jacket with the hood up and a red bandanna is tied tightly over his mouth and nose like a bandit. His eyes are covered by the goggles he wore while spear fishing, an event that now seems a time long ago and in a place far away. He walks toward the road in search of Noah, leaving a trail of deep footprints. In short time, he disappears from view.
The sounds of people rustling have wakened the others scattered throughout the barn. For the first time in so many days, the castaways were able to sleep alone if they chose to and many did, though most of the women felt safer sleeping
in small groups. Those who had slept on the second floor — more than half — gather around the window, gazing at the new grey world. Luna climbs down the ladder and finds Evelyn cutting pieces of clothing that will be used as face covers for the trek ahead. She looks up from her task and smiles weakly.
“It’s awful out there,” Luna sighs. Her voice carries just above the snores of Maaka and Pango, who are still working off wicked hangovers.
“It’s just another day in paradise,” Evelyn says, weakly attempting to deflect her misery.
Luna is silent and bows her head low, trying to hide the pain that she can feel etched on her face. After a few moments of snipping, Evelyn becomes aware of Luna’s agony.
“My goodness, dear, are you alright? Did I say something wrong?” Evelyn drops the cloth and scissors and wraps her arms around her with her chin nestled on top of her head.
Luna sinks into Evelyn’s arms, letting her weight rest squarely on her shoulders and sobs hard but silently, from the deepest recesses of her soul. Tears stream down her chin as she shakes her head no, over and over. She gasps for air trying to find her voice, before finally whispering, “No. It’s not you. It’s this… all of this… it never ends and it only gets worse. I’m so tired Eve... I just want to go home.”
Evelyn rocks Luna gently, back and forth, trying to soothe her. “I know love… I know.”
As Evelyn stands firm, holding Luna in her arms, the buzz-saw snores grow even louder and more erratic.
Luna laughs a small laugh through her tears. “Those two are still sleeping off their bruised egos. Just wait until they see what’s in store for them.”
Evelyn shrugs. “They’re lucky that’s all they got. Noah certainly held back on Pango.”
“Hiroshi and I are in Noah’s debt. That could have ended badly for my husband.”