by Pamela Davis
"Yes, yes--an absolutely awful dream this time," she said, clutching Merlin tightly to her chest. She watched as Andy's breathing slowed down, and realized suddenly she had started to feel calm as soon as she saw him. The significance of that fact left her standing there staring at him. He made her feel calm, safe--how was that possible? He wasn't anything like the men she usually went after. He wasn't like anyone she'd ever met. He couldn't possibly be right for her, such a straight-laced, uptight kind of guy, why he--
"Lisanne? Lisanne, are you okay," she heard him saying, puzzlement and concern in his voice.
"Um, yeah, yeah, I'm okay, fine, sure, no problem," she babbled, blushing as she heard herself. Blushing as she became very aware she was now staring at his bare chest, and blushing more at the fact she was blushing. She never blushed.
Andy reached out and put an arm around her, walking toward the living room. "Come on, let's grab the phone and call the Samuels' house. I'm sure they're up too."
He watched her nod and thought, Now if I can just manage to talk, instead of grabbing her and kissing her...God, black silk is amazing on her...is she blushing?
The Samuels' House
"Okay, I think we've got everyone in on the conference call and you are all on the speakerphone now as well," John announced. He settled back in his chair and looked around the room at the now wide-awake group in his den. A rather grim and sad-looking group, he thought.
"Now, everyone dreamed of the volcano, is that right?" he asked. Nods all around the room, except for Samantha, he realized. She looked startled for a second there. What the hell did that mean?
Mrs. Philpott's voice over the speaker sounded tired as she said, "Yes, a volcano--in the west somewhere, I think."
"It was Mount Rainier," Lisanne said confidently. "I'm quite sure of that."
"Wait--that can't be right," Andy said interrupting her. "I know it was Mount Baker."
Mark Shapiro interjected, "Well, they are both out in the Northwest, part of the Cascade mountain range, right?"
Gracie said, "At least we will be safe here...but one volcano or two volcanoes out there...either way a lot of people will be killed."
John glanced at Sam, who was sitting in her mother's lap now, cookies untouched on a plate by her side. She's too young for all this, he thought, too young and it's too much to ask, then he took a deep breath and said, "Samantha, is this right? Will it be two volcanoes?"
Sam looked up at him and said, "The volcanoes? Oh, yeah, Daddy, there's at least two. Lots of fire and mud and flying rocks, and lots and lots of dead people. People running and not knowing where to go--that stuff that runs down the mountainside--lava, that's it. The animals are already leaving, but the people, the people aren't. They don't think it's gonna happen."
Jessica hugged her daughter and said fiercely into the silence, "I'm not sure we really need Samantha to do this. I mean most of you had the dream in some form, right? Can't you put the pieces together without her? She doesn't need to re-live volcano dreams."
Various voices of assent could be heard as John gazed at his wife's face and then said resolutely, "Yes, it is necessary because Samantha didn't dream of the volcanoes, did you, sweetheart?"
"What?" Rachel blurted out, turning to stare at Sam.
"But why were you so upset, Sam?" Black asked.
The voices of the others stilled as they waited. Samantha sat up straighter and looked at Black standing so tall and serious by the door, at Rachel and with her sleep-mussed curls and the gun Sam knew was under her shirt, at Max, who she knew felt bewildered and confused sitting on the floor holding Ruby in his lap, at her mother with those worried eyes, and finally at her father waiting patiently...and the others all around town, on their phones connected here to this room...connected to her in an entirely different way.
She sighed and said, "I dreamed of what comes after the volcanoes. I dreamed of a crazy man named the President, who is gonna do a very bad thing. I dreamed of a big, big, big bomb. I dreamed of a huge wave...the hugest wave. I dreamed of big, big cities falling into the sea, crashing down as the wave hits them. I dreamed that the Statue of Liberty falls over. I dreamed of people, people, people, so many people washed away like floating dolls, smashed up people, people who can't breathe, people who can't escape. It's called the Eastern Seaboard. Perceval helped me know that. And it's gonna be gone if nobody stops that big bomb."
"Oh, my fucking god," Lisanne said into the horrified silence.
Hotel in Boston, Massachusetts
"Zack, Zack, wake up!" Maria said as she tried to shake Zack awake. She'd been sound asleep until he thrashed around in his sleep. She'd rolled off the bed to avoid his flailing arms.
Suddenly his eyes popped open. Maria noticed irrelevantly how they looked silver and gleaming in the moonlight falling through an opening in the curtains. "Can you hear me?" she asked.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm awake," he said shakily. "God! That one was bad."
Maria brought him a glass of water from the bathroom. "Here, drink this."
"I need something stronger than water," he observed, but he gulped the water greedily.
Maria went around the room turning on lights. Running his hands through his tangled hair, Zack watched her, thankful she was there. And he was not unappreciative of the skimpy, cream-colored nightie she wore, he thought, bemused. If you're going to have a god-awful nightmare, Maria was something good to wake up to.
"Now, tell me," Maria said, climbing back onto the bed to sit across from him.
"Washington D.C., New York, Boston, for god's sake! They're finished. Maybe."
"Maybe?" Maria asked. Then, she looked at him with something beyond sadness in her eyes, "All of them?"
"Yeah, maybe," Zack replied. "That's the weird part."
"Oh? That's the weird part? This whole thing is damned weird, Zack," Maria retorted.
He laughed weakly and said, "It's unbelievable, yet it is happening. And now this...this insanity in the latest dream...I can't believe it. But if it's true...."
Maria said slowly, "Maybe we can warn people, or--"
"It's the 'or' I'm thinking about. This isn't like the others. This could perhaps be stopped--but how?" he muttered quietly. "I don't know how we could do it." He looked up to see her watching him with a look of concern, but also one of love in her deep, dark eyes. I could drown in those eyes, he thought. Lose myself in those depths.
She watched something change in his expression, saw fear replaced by passion.
He said quietly, "Can you just come here and kiss me? You and I, right now, we are the only non-weird thing happening in the world. So how about you let me make love to you, and then we'll figure out if there's a chance in hell of us stopping this nightmare. I need you right now, rather desperately, love."
Without a word she crawled up the bed to him and stared into his eyes for a moment before gently kissing his lips. Feeling his arms wrap around her body and hands running slowly down her back, she thought, however it all ended, if they all died tomorrow, they had each other in this moment. For right now, she thought, pressing her body against his as the kiss became more intense, for now, we are all that matters.
Salmon Creek, Idaho
"You know, maybe if there had only been the one volcano blowing its top, maybe so many folks wouldn't have died. But like Gladys says these days, you just don't know about Mother Nature--altho' maybe some know more than others these days. Anyway, some geo-something guy came through here and said the whole damn mountain range must have let loose, those earthquakes and stuff triggering other events. Nobody will ever know. There was a video I saw, a camera that caught the first part of the first eruption, guess the files got saved to some guy's computer. And there weren't no warning, that's the thing. No billows of steam and smoke ahead of time...just all of a sudden, it was like one whole side of that mountain collapsed in on itself and starting sliding down. Then the picture is so filled with smoke and ash and stuff you can't really see anything after that. But the
re was a couple survivors we met here not long ago. They probably won't ever be right in the head, not after what they went through.
"Guess the thing we all learned, what those poor folks learned, is you just can't live that close to a volcano. That maybe the mountains were here first and will be here after we're gone. And you sure as hell better not build any cities in the path of those whatchamacallits...debris flow thingies. Not a good idea a'tall. Guess we can't just act like we got control over all of it, over nature. Leastwise, we sure as hell can't control any damn volcanoes. Nope, not by a long shot."
Washington State
Barney and Faith were just waking up in their tent in the Glacier Park camping area. Their "honeymoon hotel," they called it. For two forest rangers who shared a passion for the outdoors as well as a passion for each other, their marriage in a valley below the day before had been a beautiful event. And the honeymoon, of course, would involve camping. But with a nice roomy tent and every amenity they'd always wanted.
Faith heard Barney moving around, pulling out cooking gear, and heard a loud clatter as the pans crashed from his hands. She heard him say, "I'll love you always!" in a kind of shout. Then she burned up along with him in an instant as the superheated air in the pyroclastic flow washed over them.
Evan Saunders looked through the binoculars and didn't notice how hard the plastic pressed against his eye sockets. He couldn't move, couldn't run, could only watch as a huge river of what looked like mud came speeding toward his house. His final thoughts were tinged with surprise while he wondered how something that looked like wet concrete could move so damn fast. Then the debris-filled flow devoured his house, sucking him under in a heartbeat.
Seattle's mayor woke to the jolting of earthquakes. Grabbing his phone and finding it non-functional, he began swearing and yelling over the roaring noise around him. "I thought the damn-fool idiots said it was a fucking volcano, not earthquakes!" Any slim hope of organizing a successful evacuation from the terrified city died with the mayor as the fancy chandelier above his head crashed down.
Roger Stewart had lived in Tacoma his whole life. He loved the view of the mountains from his deck. After yoga and then some herbal tea, he stood out there admiring the view each morning, which gave him a great start to his day at the health-food store. Today was going to be different. First, the earthquakes didn't seem to want to stop, bouncing him around on the redwood deck. Then, in a moment's peace, he looked up to see billowing smoke where the mountains should be--ash he thought, horrified--reaching so high into the sky, it shouldn't be possible. Glancing toward the east, he saw far in the distance what looked like explosions. He remembered there was a housing development there. There had been. Now he was watching houses explode into flames as the growing cloud of hot volcanic gases consumed everything in its path. And just what was its path, he wondered. Stumbling into his house to grab his shoes and his car keys, he headed for the Volvo outside. At least for now he was still alive--a situation which could easily change in a second, he thought grimly. Trying hard to recall the maps from the evacuation seminar he'd attended years ago, he turned the sturdy car west, the only direction open to him, and wished irrelevantly that he had some glazed donuts. If he was going to die anyway, he damn well deserved at least one glazed donut before heading on to the next stage of life.
"Experts from the Montserrat volcano of Soufriere Hills in the Caribbean today said they believe it's possible a new type of pyroclastic flow could have occurred in Washington State this morning as the volcanoes erupted. Pyroclastic flows are usually made up of a basal flow which is filled with debris like rocks and boulders and runs along the ground at speeds reaching 200 miles per hour, while a top layer filled with ash rides above it in what is called a surge. However, in this new type of flow, the ash drops down out of the surge and forms a new flow. Since it's made up of very fine particles of ash, it moves even faster and spreads farther, moving like a river. Because the rocks and gas inside a pyroclastic flow can reach temperatures as high as 1200 degrees, anything in their path would be consumed. At this time, the government says it has no way of knowing how many thousands may have died, or what the property damage could be. It's safe to assume, however, there has been massive loss of life in the Northwest United States today. This is Maria Santiago, reporting to you from Boston."
The Samuels' House
"It was so nuts, I mean the Puget Sound region, Tacoma, Seattle, all have communities that were settled on old debris flows. Why on earth did we ever do something that stupid?" Rachel asked. "And why the hell did they build tourism facilities on the very slopes of the mountains?"
John looked at his frustrated sister and shook his head. They'd watched the news report together, the only ones at the house who wanted to see what was reported. Jessica was trying to get Samantha interested in a video game, just to get her mind off all the horrible images in the little girl's head. Max was out with Black, learning how to patrol. The television coverage had been filled with static and John wondered how long they would get any reception at all.
"I guess we don't really need to see it, anyway," he mumbled to himself.
"What'd you say?" Rachel asked.
"Oh, just thinking out loud, how we really don't need to watch these reports. We already know what will happen."
"Well, I still want to see the reports as long as we can get them. Some of our dreams vary in details, so we don't always know exactly what will happen," Rachel replied. Sighing, she leaned back on the sofa and stretched out her legs, crossing one booted foot over the other. "Although," she continued musingly, "I'll bet Sam knows, right down to minor details."
John bowed his head and looked up at his sister, a tortured look on his face. "God, how I hate this, Rach! She's too young, too innocent, too sweet to suddenly have to know so much incredibly scary stuff. I look at her and I am so afraid for her. What is this doing to her? To her mental state? And yet--" He stopped and looked down at the floor.
Rachel watched him in sympathy and said, "And yet, you need the knowledge she has, you need to use her, to help us prepare."
Angrily, he said, "I'm not going to use my own daughter!"
She sat and watched him remember the night before.
"Oh, God, I am using her, like last night."
"It's not really that you are using her, John," Rachel said firmly. She'd known he needed to talk about it, and was glad he was ready to let it all out. "You really do need to know what she knows. And if you didn't ask her, do you think that would make it stop happening? I doubt it. I think for some reason, some reason we don't understand, she has the strongest connection to--to the Earth or whatever it is. I've spoken with some of the others, Alexandra in particular, and she says from what she can tell, nobody else has that strong a connection. Mrs. Philpott knows a lot, but she gets it from Perceval. And we all know Perceval is finicky about what info he releases to us," she said with a little laugh.
Grinning briefly, John agreed, "Yes, Perceval is different, all right." He paused, and then asked, "But how do I protect Samantha? How do we all protect her? Help her to be normal? What if nobody else is out there who has this kind of connection? What if she is the only one?"
"Well, big brother, I guess we take it a step at a time. Others are going to be arriving here over the next few days, and you never know, maybe there is someone else out there like Samantha. Hopefully an adult who could shoulder some of the burden. But, honestly, I don't see how that will help her all that much because she's still going to have the dreams, right? She's still going to just know stuff. And have access to all the animals' thoughts if she wants."
"So we do nothing?" he demanded.
"I didn't say that, and don't jump down my throat! It's not me you're mad at. You aren't even really mad, you're just scared to death."
"Yeah," he said, sighing heavily. "Yeah, okay, so what do we do then?"
Rachel said slowly, "Well, first off you do what you've been doing--being good parents to your daughter, you and Jess
. You keep letting her know how much you love her, how she can come to you with anything. No matter how scary it is."
John nodded and looked at her shrewdly, "That almost sounded rehearsed, sis."
She laughed and said, "Well it was, a little. Like I said, I've been talking to Alexandra, and I think you need to talk to her too. She knew how busy you were and she didn't want to impose on you, but she has some good ideas. I think you need to bring her in on this--you and Jessica talk to her about Sam. Maybe let her hang out with Sam more frequently. I've never been clear on just what the heck anthropologists do, but she also kind of sounds like a psychologist when she talks, and that could be useful to Sam right now. Mainly because Sam wants to protect you guys--at least that is what Alex thinks."
"Protect us? But why, how--oh," he said, suddenly getting it.
"Right, because she loves you just like you love her, and she has seen you guys get scared, seen all of us get scared when we hear some new horrible thing. She needs to be able to talk to an adult she isn't close to, isn't worried about upsetting. And Alex, even if she is a crazy-assed driver in that sports car of hers, is basically pretty down-to-earth and very easy to talk to. I guess if she could get those African tribes to talk to her she can get one little American girl to talk to her as well." Running her hands through the curls on top of her head, Rachel stood up. "So perk up, big bro, get off your butt and get on the phone to Alex. Appoint her as an advisor on--education, something like that. Not anthropology, nobody knows what they do, but Education Minister, something like that, nobody is gonna question that."
John, bemused, smiled up at her. "Education Minister? That sounds like a government title! We're just a band of survivors."
"Now, we are," Rachel interrupted. "For now, we are just a band of survivors. But others are coming, you know, and we're going to end up being a community, a town, eventually. If I know anything, John, as a former ad exec, I know about labels and their importance in getting a message across to people. If you want those new people to follow you, to get with the program here, you've got to start putting things in place, some kind of structure, before they go making up one of their own that doesn't work."