We would not just dump these people into a hole. I went searching for more sheets and found more bodies.
“Mark, could you come in here please?” I called out to the doctor. Eric and Jason were making quick work of this unpleasant task, wrapping each person then moving them to the truck. The bed sheets were very effective body bags.
“Oh,” he said when he saw the two people on the bed, forever frozen in lasting embrace.
“Can you tell what they died from?” I asked from behind my mask.
“At this point, I don’t think it matters much, does it?” he sounded bitter. “It wasn’t the ash though. It appears to be suicide.” He reached into a pocket and retrieved the man’s wallet, slipping it into the bag we had been collecting IDs in. Some of the victims didn’t have wallets or purses, and it was getting increasingly difficult to recognize faces. It was July and it was still warm; rigor wasn’t the only thing we had to worry about. I searched the next house for more sheets.
* * *
We had all twenty-two people laid in the bed of the truck and Jason drove slowly to the new grave site. I wanted to rip off my mask to get some fresh air, although I knew there wasn’t any fresh air, not here anyway.
Lenny had returned by the time we arrived with our grisly load. One at a time, we moved the sheet wrapped bodies into the mass grave, laying them side by side in a final defiant stance against the cloud of deadly ash. Death shrouds of flowered sheets and striped, bold colors and bleached white; everyone was given the tender dignity they deserved as we laid them to rest.
The five of us stood silent while Eric recited the Lord’s Prayer. Then Pete climbed back onto the growling bulldozer and finished the burial. This was the part I couldn’t watch.
* * *
“Mom,” Jason said, “it’s too late in the day for me to make more of my umbrellas for all of us to come here, so why don’t you and Dr. Mark come over to us for dinner? Amanda and I will cook up the rest of the fish.”
“Thank you, Jason. I don’t know if I’m up to it.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea, Jason,” Mark cut in. “We’ll be over in an hour.”
“Allex,” he said, running his hands down my arms, “you need something to take your mind off of what we did today. In fact, we all need a diversion, and I think visiting your family is the best thing I could prescribe.”
I looked down at the floor before answering. “You’re right, I tend to hide when I’m upset and that’s not good. I’m going to start the generator so we can take showers first. Even though I know we were well covered, I still feel… contaminated.”
While the generator was running for the second shower, I refilled a couple of buckets of water and washed our morning coffee cups. The lack of dishes made me realized we had skipped lunch. I felt like I wasn’t being much of a hostess and decided I would make an extra nice dinner tomorrow.
* * *
Amanda had fried the fish that didn’t make it to the smoker and served it with home canned corn and green beans. Emilee had made her first solo loaf of bread, which delighted me.
“I’m so proud of you, Emi! This tastes wonderful,” I told her.
“Dad wants me to learn something new now,” Emi replied. “I think I’d like to try something sweet.”
“Maybe tomorrow we can make sweet rolls, would you like that?”
She gave me a big smile and nodded, just as her father came up from the basement with a pitcher of freshly brewed beer.
“I had this cooling when the power went out, so it’s ready to drink, just not real cold.”
Not being a drinker, Amanda had some coffee, while Eric, Jason, Mark and I enjoyed a second pitcher of beer.
* * *
Night was quickly approaching when Mark and I walked home. The heaviness of the ever present cloud darkened the air even further and I held onto his hand as we navigated through the dim light, more for him than for me; I knew the way in total darkness.
“I think I had a bit too much of Eric’s beer!” I exclaimed, rubbing my temples to ease the growing headache. “Plus it’s been a long, long day. I’m turning in. Good night Mark.” I turned to leave, when he stopped me.
“You might have that vulnerable side, Allex, but when it counts, you do what needs to be done, I admire that. With you as an example, it’s no wonder your sons have turned out so well.” He pulled me into his arms for a brief hug, and we headed to different rooms.
I tossed and turned for a couple of hours, not being able to rid myself of the vision in my head of bodies lined up at the bottom of a deep, dark hole, laying there in pink and flowered sheets.
Dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt, I went into the TV room where Mark slept on the futon. I laid down on the edge so I was just barely touching him. The comfort of another person seeped into my bones. He turned on his side and draped a protective arm over me. And I slept.
July 22
I stretched, and then remembered where I was. I moved slowly to not waken Mark.
“Don’t leave, Allex, this feels good,” he said sleepily, pulling me back against him.
I lay back down, snuggling into the covers. Yes, it felt very good.
“Don’t wiggle like that! It’s disturbing,” he groaned in frustration.
I froze. Any movement on my part might be interpreted as an invitation on his part. I stood up quickly, and embarrassed, I headed for the kitchen to make coffee.
* * *
With the water boiling for coffee, I washed my face and got dressed, trying to compose myself.
“Mark, I’m sorry …”
“Stop! No apologies, Allex. Look, I’m not even going to ask why you crawled in bed with me during the night, because I know why.” He faced me now, with concern and sympathy etched on his tanned face. “Yesterday was a very traumatic day for all of us. Human contact can be a good remedy for soothing that stress. I know there wasn’t anything else you were seeking, Allex, but you have to understand that my desire for you is real. I can’t and I won’t deny that, and being together like this and alone is… difficult. So until you want me the same way I want you, I think it best if you stayed out of my bed.”
I couldn’t help it, and I started laughing. A moment later, Mark was laughing too.
“Mark, you need to understand that I’m a touch-oriented person. I’ve been a massage therapist for over twenty-five years; I have a need to touch and be touched. John was right, he knew I wouldn’t do well without company, without someone to give me a hug when I needed it,” I said seriously, searching his face. “And you’re right, that’s why I came to you this morning. I needed that contact.”
“I do understand that, Allex,” he smiled gently at me. “Do you need a hug now?”
I nodded. He reached for me and I laid my head on his shoulder, inhaling his scent. Closing my eyes, I could feel myself relax as the heat of his arms warmed my back and his own unique musky scent warmed my heart and soul.
Mark’s unshaven jaw was so close to me I could feel the roughness as I pulled back a slight bit. Without thinking what was about to happen, I touched his lips with mine. His response was instant. His hold tightened and loosened at the same time as the strength and depth of the kiss changed. It felt as if he was drawing something out of me, demanding a raw passion I hadn’t experienced before, not even with John. I plunged forward, out of control.
My breathing came in ragged gasps when I stepped back, breaking the contact.
“Whoa,” Mark said his breath as erratic as mine. “Ever since that first kiss on your birthday, I haven’t been able to get our chemistry out of my mind, Allex. This time, this was different, way more powerful. What are we going to do now?”
“Nothing, Mark.” I released my hold of him. “I needed that kiss and I think you did too. I also need to wait that full two weeks before we… well, before we explore our feelings any further. I couldn’t live with myself otherwise.”
“It’s going to be a long nine days, Allex,” Mark sighed. “N
o crawling in bed with me, and no more kisses either. Maybe we should limit the hugs too.” He sat hard into the kitchen chair, clearly shaken.
“Okay, doctor, I will restrain myself,” I snickered as I worked the French press and made our morning brew.
While Mark munched on another muffin, I noticed my black medical bag sitting on the side bar.
“Have you had a chance to look through the medical bag yet? I think you should adjust what you prefer is in it so you don’t have any surprises at an inopportune moment.”“Not yet, but there’s no time like the present.” He pulled the bag to sit in front of him, and started going through the exterior pockets first. “This is a purse isn’t it? A woman’s purse? This might ruin my image you know, especially with the brass studs on all the pockets.
“First end pocket, band aids; second end pocket, eye dropper, Neosporin and Darvocet?” He set the pill bottle aside. “A good idea, I want to replace it with fresh though. “Front pockets: individual alcohol wipes; gloves in a baggie and surgical masks in plastic baggie.” He looked up at me. “That’s a good idea to have them on the outside and immediately available.”
He unzipped the main compartment and removed everything from inside the bag. The stethoscope, ace bandages, surgical items and finger blood pressure machine, plus all the miscellaneous things I tucked in there were all laid out.
“What’s with the red wash cloths?”
“It came from a discussion that it might be easier on a child when wiping blood,” I explained. “If the cloth is already red, seeing blood will be less traumatic.”
“Interesting idea, I’ll have to remember that,” Mark mumbled. “All this is remarkable. What’s with the shoelaces?”
“A tourniquet or a sling,” I replied.
“They would work in a pinch,” he allowed. “And certainly takes up little room.”
“Is there anything missing, doctor?”
“Very little, Allex, I’m impressed.” Mark sat back in his chair, reaching for his now cold coffee.
“‘Very little’…” I probed. “What’s missing, Mark?” I really wanted to know. I had worked hard on that kit.
“It needs updated pain-killers and hypodermics, and that’s about it.”
“Hypos are just not something I had available to me, sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, Allex. If this was all I had available to me, I’d be well prepared for most situations. You did very well.” He smiled broadly, getting up for the coffee pot. “By the way, where did you get the surgical items, the sutures, clamps and scalpels?”
“The internet. You can find just about anything if you keep looking long enough,” I answered and then I thought I would save the military field medic bag for another time.
* * *
At noon my FRS squawked.
“Mom, are you there?”
“Yes, Eric, I’m here.”
“I’m sending Emilee over for her next baking lesson,” he replied. “She’ll be coming to the greenhouse door; out.”
I watched out the large recently replaced picture window until I saw Emilee crossing the road. She had white garbage bags on each leg and carried a shorter version of Jason’s umbrella bubble. Once inside the outer room, she shook the remaining gray ash dust off her smiley-face umbrella and stepped into the greenhouse, and only then did she pull down her face mask.
“Dad and Uncle Jason have been very strict with me about how I dress when I come over here, Nahna. They can be a real pain in the butt!”
“You have to do what they say, Emi. It’s for your own good. Don’t worry, though, this won’t last forever.”
“How much longer, Nahna?” she asked, clearly exasperated with all the extra precautions she was now required to do.
“I have no idea, Em, no one does.”
* * *
We made up a basic batch of bread dough, adding several eggs to the mix plus a tablespoon of cinnamon. I looked on and supervised while Emilee mixed the additional items into her now familiar recipe for bread, and I let her knead the dough without my help.
“This feels different, Nahna.”
“It’s because of the eggs, Emi, they add a different texture.” She’d been an excellent student and that reminded me of teaching the boys to cook when they were younger. Neither one had been very interested in baking though. And now having her to teach was a delight, plus it was keeping my mind off of Mark.
While it was on the first rise, I had her pick out what she wanted to put in her sweet rolls.
“They must have sugar and more cinnamon and nuts and raisins! And some of that white frosting stuff!”
“That white frosting stuff is a powdered sugar glaze,” I instructed her as we collected all the items from the back pantry and lined them up on my butcher block topped mobile work island.
After the short first rise was done, we rolled the dough out, filled it with her selection of nuts and raisins plus more cinnamon sugar. Emi’s little hands had some trouble rolling the dough so we each took an end. She cut the dough, placed the sweet spirals close together on a cookie sheet and then draped it with a light cloth towel.
“Just another half hour of the dough rising, Emi, and we can bake!” She squealed with delight. I punched the pre-heat button on the stove, and then remembered we didn’t have power back yet.
“I guess we need the generator.”
“If you show me how, Allex, I can be doing that for you,” Mark offered.
I got a wave of deja vu and mentally heard John making the same offer last December. I smiled to cover my memories and led Mark out to the deck.
* * *
An hour later the house was overflowing with the sugary sweet aroma of fresh baking. As much as I steered away from sweets, this luscious scent was making me hungry.
“Oh, my, that smells wonderful,” Mark announced as he returned from sitting on the deck, reading.
Emilee beamed. “Would you like to try one, Dr. Robbins?”
“I would love to share one with you and your Nahna. We certainly don’t want to hog them all! You need to take most of them back home with you,” Mark teased her, as he cut one of the confections into three pieces, placing the biggest piece in front of me.
“I think you like Nahna,” Emilee announced, embarrassing Mark. Shyness was never one of Emilee’s drawbacks.
He looked up and smiled. “Yes, I like your Nahna very much,” he replied, looking at me from beneath his long, dark lashes.
“Well, I know she likes you, too. I can tell,” Emi stated quite matter-of-factly. “She gets all quiet when you’re around, like she used to do with Grandpa John before he left us.”
The room was suddenly quiet.
“I think it’s time to get you back home, Emi, so you can share your goodies while they’re still warm,” I told her.
I wrapped the remaining sweet rolls in a sack cloth towel, then into one of the few remaining white plastic shopping bags, and then into one of the cloth bags that we’d been using to send things back and forth.
Instead of her bag-leggings, I put Emilee into one of the small bio-suits. She still needed her face mask and the umbrella. She was more protected, and looked and acted more grown up now.
“Eric, are you listening?” I asked over the FRS radio.
“I’m here,” he replied.
“I’m sending Emi back across.”
Just as she made it to the road, a red pickup truck came careening out of nowhere. Emilee fell to the ground just as the truck passed her and kept going. Moments later I heard a loud crash.
“Mark!” I yelled, slipping on the eye-shield face mask and running out the door, forgetting the rest of the protective wear.
I knelt down beside my granddaughter.
“Emi,” I said gently. She looked at me through the plastic umbrella with tears in her eyes. “Are you hurt?”
“No, Nahna, but that bad truck scared me, a lot. Dad taught me to watch everything when I crossed a road, and when I saw that truck coming I waite
d. When it got closer and I knew it wasn’t slowing down and it was too close to me, I jumped back and I tripped and fell.”
I hadn’t seen them arrive, but Eric and Mark were suddenly both there, kneeling in the gray dust. Eric was both angry and distraught, as he hugged his little girl, fire showed in his blue eyes.
“Do you feel any pain anywhere, Emilee?” Mark asked gently.
“No, but I think I squashed some of the sweet rolls.”
“Did the truck hit you Emi?” Eric wanted to know.
“No, Dad, I jumped out of the way like you told me to do. You said if I ever thought I was in danger, to listen to myself and to move out of the away. That was right, wasn’t it?”
“You did good, Bug. You did real good,” Eric reassured her, using his baby-name for her.
All the time they were talking, Mark was tenderly feeling her legs and arms for any broken bones. He gave me a smile with the slightest shake of his head, sending a slight dusting of ashes cascading over his eye shield.
“No broken bones for you, young lady!” he announced. “As for those damaged sweet rolls, perhaps I should examine them further?” Mark’s joke got Emi giggling as he helped her stand.
“Eric, are you armed?” I asked and he nodded yes. “I think you and Mark should check the crash site for survivors.”
I walked Emi back to their house, remaining on the porch since I was still covered in ash.
“Is she okay, Mom?” Jason asked worriedly once Amanda had taken Emi into the house.
“As far as Mark can tell, yes. I’m worried about Eric though. He’s so angry. I’m going to the crash site to make sure he doesn’t do anything… unnecessary.”
The red pickup truck was lying half in the ditch, half around the “curve-in-the-road” sign near the end of the road. Steam rose from the ruptured radiator, and the smell of gas was prevalent even with the mask covering my nose.
The Journal: Ash Fall Page 24