Dark Forces

I managed to loot a bottle of water from one of the Humvees I passed on the way out. I was lucky there. That bottle of water might well have made all the difference, as I had desperately needed it. The Humvee itself and its occupants had not been so lucky. It had been crushed by a fallen boulder the size of a bus, along with the driver and two passengers. The fuel tank had ruptured, spilling gasoline onto the ground that miraculously had not ignited. I knew the same thing could easily happen to me in the blink of an eye if I didn't hurry. So I did. But as I climbed out of the pit, the shaking subsided and the rock falls ceased to be a danger as the pit widened and I strayed toward the middle of the pit to avoid being crushed by the unstable walls. Yet I was only halfway to the top when the worst of it started. With a huge blast, molten fiery rock burst through the lower western wall of the pit and began rising, quickly filling the bottom of the pit. Acting partly on pure adrenaline, and partly on the methamphetamine high that had yet to subside, I scurried as quickly as I could to the top.

By the time I reached the top of the pit, the lava had already risen nearly three quarters of the way to the top. And it was still rising quickly. But even worse, where there had once been a low hill to the left of the pit, I saw that there was now a towering cinder cone, jet black as death itself, and rivulets of red fire were running down its sides and spewing out of its top. It must have been nearly eight hundred feet high. I could see red hot cinders being thrown into the sky from its summitt. The smoke from the air and the sulfurous fumes were choking, and blocking out the sky in a yellowish haze. The sun, already low on the western horizon, was just a sickly purplish orange. I needed to keep moving. With nowhere to go I headed over toward where I remembered the road had been. The ground felt hot beneath my feet and it was now all black, freshly cooled lava. I could see some twisted bits of metal sticking out of the ground, what I remembered as being the old power station and transmission pylons. Soon, however, the heat grew too intense, and I had to double back, away from the smoking and spewing cinder cone, and into unfamiliar territory. How long I pressed on, I don't know. At last though, a combination of heat exhaustion and the drugs wearing off all at once did me in, and I fell into a dry creek bed and collapsed.

I don't remember how long I slept, only that it was dark but just getting light in the East, so I must have spent the night, though I don't remember anything. Only that when I emerged from the draw, I woke to a world transformed. Behind me I could see the stark black triangle of the cinder cone, now twice as tall as it had been the previous evening. It was no longer ejecting molten rock to my relief. But the landscape itself was otherworldly. How I had avoided being incinerated by the lava flows I don't know, but clearly the devastation caused by the eruption was extensive.

As a kid I remember my parents had once taken us to a place called the Craters of the Moon, somewhere up in Idaho. We'd stopped there on the way up to Yellowstone, as I recall. It was the remnant of some past volcanic eruption and the entire landscape was twisted frothing jagged black rock. And that is what it looked like here- and utter black desolation of jagged frothing cinders, deep shadowy fissures, and barren volcanic death. Survival was now my only goal. I had survived the Azzacov project, but did I have any hope of reaching civilization alive? It grew hot, and the black rock and still smoking volcanic fissures only made it worse, reflecting the sun's heat while still giving off its own. I clambered down a steep slope into a valley. Here, the flowing lava had created some sort of tube, with holes in the roof, which would at least provide some respite from the heat of the sun. And concealment, too, because, in my paranoid state, I still feared that someone- or something, was still following me. But there was nothing. The demons and the shadows had been trapped, sealed in the volcano. I finished off the last of my water bottle and rested in this cool grotto for a while.

I remember wretched, unbearable thirst. And heat. The expanse of black cinders giving way to endless sagebrush. I do not remember exactly how I eventually came home, if such a home it was. It is my home now, and I have accepted that. But all I remembered then was that my mother was gone, so was my love, so who did I have and where would I go? And heat and thirst. I remember wandering the blackened desert until heat and thirst took their toll, and I didn't remember anything else for a long while.

20.

According to the Winnemucca Herald, the sudden appearance of the Disaster Peak volcano and the subsequent eruption had resulted in at least six known casualties that have been reported. However there are several dozen area residents that remain unaccounted for. Their whereabouts remain unknown. Interestingly, however, many of these had mysteriously been reported missing in the days and weeks leading up to the eruption, making it unlikely that they were in any way connected with it. It is believed that they simply relocated to another part of the country to seek better economic opportunity.

Although the eruption had taken most geologists by surprise, the official account from the USGS was that the volcano was situated on a previously undiscovered hot spot under the crust, and it had erupted when an underground fault had suddenly given way. Decades of mining history in the area had possibly weakened the fault, which might have triggered the earthquakes that led to the subsequent eruption. Several unexplained earthquakes had in fact preceded the eruption, which lent credibility to this theory.

The loss and damage to property are said to be in the tens of millions, including the destruction of the Delmar Historic Mining District and several local ranches whose residents are counted among the missing. A reclamation project was allegedly underway at the mine area and this was also said to have been totally destroyed, as it was said to be at the epicenter of the volcano. However details remain scant as to the identity of the firm responsible for the project, and thus far, nobody representing the mining company has come forward.

Two days after the eruption, a local Paradise Valley resident named Peter Threebears was driving his ancient Dodge pickup on an old desert road when he came across a half-naked, delirious man wandering through the sagebrush, on the verge of collapse due to thirst and heat exhaustion. The man was transported to Winnemucca General Hospital where he was treated for extreme dehydration and heat stroke. He refused to give his name to the authorities and would give no account as to what had happened to him.

21.

In a dusty hardscrabble town in northern Nevada, there is only silence now, and peace. There is a special kind of energy about this place that I feel drawn to. It is a good place, and most importantly it is a place that has been cleansed. I feel drawn to the warm desert air, the tiny yet breathtakingly beautiful desert flowers, the sunsets and the endless starry skies at night. Though my family is gone now, along with my one true love, and I have nothing in my heart but aching loss for my loved ones, I know in my heart I belong here.

I have a job working out at a local ranch. It is hard physical work, but I earn enough to live, rent free of course at Grandma's house, and I don't mind the labor. The ranch is not too far out from town. It is kind of nice, being close to the land and one with nature. Sometimes hard work helps you forget your grief. Learning the ins and outs of cattle ranching was something that came surprisingly natural to this city kid, because what else is there to do but learn?

Somewhere in Las Vegas is a place called the Museum of the Paranormal. It's full of odd knickknacks, allegedly haunted dolls and a random assortment of objects linked to hauntings and possessions. Somewhere on a shelf inside that museum sits a globe made of dark yellow glass, with a piece of etched aluminum encased inside of it. It is a relatively recent donation, and it can stay there till the building crumbles around it. As long as I never look at it, or one like it, ever again.

The sun rises and I take a walk down the dusty street to the row of trees by the small creek. Nothing interesting will happen today- it almost never does, but yet it is a good day. An old friend once said, some people are called upon to do great things but most of us are called upon to do what we can to make our community as good a place as we can. Even if it is a remote place that is but an afterthought to the excitement and bustle of the cities. And thus, here is where I will spend my days.