The Price of Life

The Price of Life



  They had been saying forever that Yellowstone would blow, but they never said when. How could they? We thought we knew almost everything, but we still couldn't predict these sorts of things. It wasn't for lack of trying, though; believe me, we tried. It's not easy to tell a scientist that he can't do something, but the way I see it, there's a line that Man shouldn't even try to cross. Like Pandora's Box. I saw a movie when I was a kid and the main character said something like: "Science only goes so far, then comes God". I think that sounds about right.

  We had plenty of warning over the years leading up to it- the eruption. But it's like those people who smoke cigarettes all their lives and are surprised to find out thirty years later that they have lung cancer- out of sight, out of mind. And oh, what a sight it was.

  They said that there was a 'lava dome' (a big, underground bubble of lava) underneath the volcano- sorry, 'Supervolcano'- and this dome was over ten miles long and nearly five miles wide. Can you imagine? Some said that's what actually killed of the dinosaurs, one of these eruptions. I didn't believe it then, but I sure do now.



  I was in Florida when it happened, visiting my parents. They had found a nice spot by the beach a few years before and set up shop to live out their 'Golden Years'. I'm not gonna say that I liked it; I lived in Vancouver at the time and trying to get down to see them even once a year for the Holidays was a pain in the ass. Literally. I don't think I made it through customs once without having to endure 'The Inspection', but try saying 'no' to an Italian mother.

  When I think about that day I can't help but be thankful for my parents' decision to move. On the other hand, I would have avoided the shitstorm that followed. I'm still on the fence.

  It took about two days for the ash cloud to reach Pensacola, which really is disturbingly quickly. I imagine that most of the poor souls in the Pacific Northwest were dead before they knew it- like a neo-Pompeii or something. By the time the ash hit us, all the bottled water had been either bought and stored or stolen and guarded.



  I'd never seen anything like it. Like something out of a Bruckheimer movie. You could see the cloud coming for miles- thick, black death from above. People froze and stared skyward in awe as this thing blacked out the sun for as long as they could until the ash started falling. It choked and suffocated its way across the country, and by the time it reached us it had already killed-off a quarter of the population.

  I tell ya, it's a good thing Dad was a painter. He had two respirator masks, like the kind those Haz-Mat guys wore and some safety goggles in the cellar. We took turns passing the masks around. I'd wait for the second pass to catch a breath of filtered air. Mom had emphyzema and didn't last for more than a day. The filter in one of the masks quit after the first week. I did what I could for Dad, but...

  After the worst of it settled it was just me and the walls of canned peaches in their tiny, dingy cellar. I always loved my Mom's canned peaches and the pies she would make with them, but after three months of eating them I was debating with myself whether to start gnawing on the stairs as a fibre alternative.



  Three months isn't really a long time, but it's forever when you're waiting to die. I can't really explain what it was that rose up inside me, something deep inside my chest told me I had to get out of there. If it could be heard, it would say "What the hell are you doing, man? This isn't how it's supposed to be, and you know it". I knew it. I was always one to get the most out of life; I always took care of myself and my health, I hiked and swam and snowboarded. And I wasn't a quitter.

  I walked up the stuffy cellar stairs and opened the door to the kitchen. The light from outside burned my eyes and it took a few minutes of quick blinking to get used to the change in brightness. It felt amazing. Beautiful. I thought the ash would still be in the sky but it wasn't, and I was elated. I ran down the stairs, grabbed some peaches and headed out into the light.



  And here we are. It's been about four years, I think, since it happened. The oceans are grey, the plants are mostly all gone, and people are dying every day- either from the obvious, by choice, or by a more sinister means. There's water around, all right, but it's not free and it's not cheap. There's no use for money these days- hell, that was a decade ago by now- but if there's anything you can offer to trade for clean water, you trade it. I've considered trying to broker a deal with one of the Bandits for my canned peach cache, but the thought leaves me as quickly as it comes. I don't have a gun, and I wouldn't use one if I did, but if any one of those rodents puts his hands on me again I might just have to reconsider my morals. Hah! Listen to me... What does anyone know about 'morals', nowadays? You could get shot for sneaking one more sip, or raped just for the hell of it. There's nothing out here right now that isn't of some value to one of these bastards, so I think I'll just keep on going, with my chin up and my eyes down.