Eden (28 page)

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.”

“Noah knows no other way. He would have done that for anyone.”

“I believe that he would.”

Evelyn sighs. “I wouldn’t worry about those lads again. Noah thinks they’re nothing more than drunken braggarts, and I have to agree. Besides, he said we should reach town today and hopefully we will all finally be able to go home.”

Luna perks up. “I hope he’s right about that. We should tell the others. Mia was starting to panic.”

“She was?” Evelyn asks, filled suddenly with concern. “About what?”

“She was scared that we wouldn’t be able to get off the island. She’s afraid that everyone might have already evacuated, because of the eruption.”

“She did? Well, that’s just nonsense.” The conviction in Evelyn’s voice belies the doubt that has welled up within her. “Do you want to help me prepare?” she asks, to change the subject.

Before long, Hiroshi and Noah storm through the barn doors covered in black soot. The commotion wakens Maaka, who instinctively throws a punch into thin air. Pango, still dead asleep, barely stirs. Pale grey light illuminates the dingy interior, while wind whistles through the dilapidated shack, enraging Maaka who shouts, “Close the goddamn door!”

Noah whips off his aviators, exposing stark white ovals against a singed face. “It’s a living hell out there.”

“So it appears,” says Evelyn, dusting the ash from his shoulders in greeting. “What’s the plan?”

“Well, it’s going to be tough sledding out there for sure, and visibility is terrible, but regardless we should reach Shetland by day’s end. The sooner we get moving the better. Can you round up the troops?”

“I can, but what about those two?” Her eyes dance across the ceiling to the symphony of echoing snorts.

“We’ll let Atua sort them out,” says Noah stoically.

Within an hour, Evelyn and Luna have everyone ready for what promises to be a surreal trek through an ash-filled wasteland, what they all hope will be the last leg of their journey. The crew covers their faces with scarves and various wraps to protect their airways from the swirling soot. They also wear sunglasses or, in some cases, goggles that Hiroshi was able to manufacture with plastic bottles and wire that he had found in the barn. The stable of lost souls do their best to prepare, but are woefully ill-equipped for what’s in store.

Atua, after much goading, has managed to wake Maaka and Pango who are still getting dressed for the march into town. Pango is in his usual attire, except for the addition of a blood-red triangular cloth, once a shirt, that’s tied around his head to conceal his enormous blowhole. His eyes are covered by his vintage pair of gold-plated Elvis sunglasses. Maaka wears a dark grey hoodie underneath his distressed black leather jacket and black sunglasses. He refuses to wear anything to cover his mouth and insists his thick black beard will shield him from the soot. With most of the crew ready, Noah addresses the team before they embark.

“We will be traveling close together, with Hiroshi and I leading the way. We will march slowly and deliberately, and it is imperative that we stick together. If anyone, for any reason, needs to stop, you
must
let everyone know. Visibility is poor and it will only get worse. It will be very easy to lose one another out there in the chaos, and it is important that everyone remains vigilant and watches out for everyone else. You should all have a full ration of water and I advise you to drink sparingly as fresh water will not be available until we make it into town. Does everyone have his or her own water supply?” He cranes his neck to scan his huddled followers and sees a series of nods. “Good. So if there are no questions, let’s be on our way.”

As the group sets off, it becomes apparent that Noah’s assessment of the conditions was dead on. It is a veritable hell on earth outside, with swirling winds that spray dust storms thick with ash in every direction. The air is sulphuric and thick, only compounding their misery, with the mantle of ash almost a foot deep and rising, making travel slow and tedious. No words are spoken, as everyone must devote complete concentration to navigating the terrain; some people hold hands to keep their footing steady. Noah and Hiroshi stand shoulder-to-shoulder, leading two rows through the grey blight. Maaka and Pango bring up the rear and, for once, go along with the crowd.

The crew plods in two meandering rows of eight people each. They do their best to huddle as closely as they can, walking over the trampled footsteps of the ones in front of them. They use their walking sticks to help steady their footing through the sea of endless grey dust that confuses and disorients the senses. After hours of marching, the entire group is covered in black soot with piles of ash accumulating on their heads and shoulders. Several begin to suffer from the harsh conditions. In particular, Hank, Patrick, and Josette are wracked by fits of coughing. The momentum of others seems to be the only thing that keeps them going.

Luna has been keeping a close eye on Hank who trudges beside her in the next row. She does her best to pull him along by the crook of his arm and offers words of encouragement, but he doesn’t respond to her and his steps are more stagger than walk. Suddenly, Hank pulls down his mask with both hands, sucking frantically for air. His skin is as grey as the countryside and he begins to sway in a circular fashion. Luna sounds the alarm, screaming and shouting for everyone to stop.

The group comes to a halt just as Hank breaks from his line, taking several sidesteps, still gasping for air and holding his chest. As several people rush to his aid, he drops like a stone, falling backward with a thud. A large cloud of ash and smoke billows around his fallen figure.

Cries ring out as Evelyn and Luna hover over their fallen companion, unzipping his jacket and pulling off his goggles.

“Hank! … Hank!” Evelyn shouts, searching his dark, bloodshot eyes for signs of life. She checks his pulse and finds none.

“He’s not breathing!” Luna shrieks, as Evelyn begins CPR.

“Give them room!” Noah commands, as the others gather in a semicircle, horrified.

“Come back to us Hank!” Evelyn orders at several points, as she continues to pump his chest and breathe air into his lungs. Hank hasn’t flinched since collapsing to the ground.

No longer able to bear it, Luna turns away and sits despondently next to her fallen friend, tears streaming down her face. Noah crouches behind his wife and places his hands on her shoulders. “Eve,” he pleads. She is too consumed with chest compressions to respond.

“Eve!” he begs again, louder this time. Finally, she stops and rests her weary arms on her thighs, breathing heavily. She begins to shudder and rock back and forth before she breaks down entirely. Noah wraps his arms around her as she sobs. Evelyn’s tears give others permission to fall apart, which they do, shaking their heads and wiping tears from their blackened faces.

After deliberating their next move, Noah and Hiroshi decide to carry Hank’s body to a sprawling tree that stands alone in a field about a hundred meters away. Hank is already shrouded in ash, which finds its way even into his slightly open mouth. They carry him to the tree and the others follow listlessly behind, their heads hung low as they try to avoid the foul dust that continues to rain on them from every direction. Hiroshi and Noah carefully rest Hank against a wide Pohutukawa tree, its early crimson flowers hidden under an ashy mantle. Noah wraps fluorescent green tape around a limb to serve as a temporary marker for their fallen comrade and then he says a few words in his honor.

“It is with heavy hearts that we lay our dear friend Hank Ashton to rest on this dark and dreary day in November. We will all remember Hank as a fine gentleman and a true warrior to the very end. He pushed himself as hard as he could and it only hurts that much more that we lost him today of all days, when we are so close to getting out of this godforsaken hellhole.” He takes a moment to suppress his mounting anger before continuing. “It is my promise to you, Hank, that I will personally see that your body is recovered and returned to your family, the moment we get into town. May you rest your weary soul in peace, now and forever, my brave friend.”

The surviving members take a moment of silence before walking back to the road and venturing toward salvation, only a couple of hours away. The loss of yet another member of their pack has demoralized them even further, and the pace is lethargic and uninspired. Luna looks to the dying sky and says a small prayer to all of the people they have lost since the crash of Flight 316 — only nine days ago, she realizes.

One by one, she recalls the names and faces of the recently departed. Tom, whose boisterous laugh filled their beach, and poor Jeremy, whom she nursed tirelessly, only for him to be swept away and lost to the sea. She marvels at Craig’s compassion; he would always lend a shoulder to cry on, even though his own heart was broken to pieces by the loss of his wife, Rachel. And now Hank. He was a man of few words, but he showed the strength of his character through his actions. She wilts at the thought of all the guilt he carried, when the altitude was too much for him on their first day of hiking through the mountains. He made her swear to him if that day ever came again to leave him behind; he didn’t want others to endanger their own lives for the sake of his.

Of course, of all of the lives that were lost, none could begin to compare to the loss she and her husband had suffered. Her heart aches for her precious Lulu, a nickname she gave her the very minute she laid eyes on her little face — a face that she has dreamt about every day since the crash. She recounts the terror when the shuttle fell from the sky and how she was rendered unconscious when they crashed, only to be awakened by Hiroshi, who already knew the fate of their daughter, but refused to tell her. He held Leilu so closely and so tightly while guiding Luna out of the plane. It wasn’t until they reached the raft that he handed the lifeless body over to her and broke the news: Leilu had died from the force of impact. She can barely recall the time that followed, only clutching her daughter and crying
Lulu, Lulu
over and over again, as if she would wake up and smile at her once more. Hiroshi did his best to comfort her, holding her as she held Leilu, completely unaware of their drifting raft. Because of their blind grief, others had perished. Now, in recompense, they did everything they could think of to help the others. But still, they feel they could have done more.

She tries to put that behind her now and channels her thoughts to the living and the incredible people she has come to know through their shared struggle. She will never forget Alice, and even Josette, who is at times so difficult, but also misunderstood, wracked with grief for her husband and school sweetheart, Remi, the only man she had ever loved. And of course, there’s Patrick, the eldest of them all. Even though he appears frail, he has proved to be so much tougher than anyone could have imagined. She smirks to herself as she replays Sarah’s patented one-liners and her sarcastic sense of humor that caused Luna to laugh even when she thought she would never be able to laugh again. She looks to Jacob, who has moved up into Hank’s position. He has shown himself to be a strong and resilient young man with a voracious appetite and an ironclad stomach to go with it. She is full of pride that her husband has served as a mentor to the young fellow and that their friendship will surely last beyond this ordeal.

Although she knows little of the fishermen, she sees that Kaewa is a good soul and tough as nails, and her cousin Atua is a man of high character — even if his brother and Pango are of a more dubious sort. Her mind races when she thinks about the enigmatic twins. So young and beautiful, with an undeniable sadness hanging over both of them. She smiles at the thought of Max, full of bravado and boundless confidence. His gift is making people laugh, even though most of the time it’s unintentional. His sister, Mia, is something altogether different. She is a dark, mysterious beauty with those piercing green eyes that can look straight through you. Luna knows there’s more to her than looks; she has even noticed a strange, guarded ambiguity when she has mentioned her to Evelyn and Noah.

Which leads Luna to ponder the remarkable Lockhearts. That any of them are alive now is thanks entirely to their heroics. The unwavering dedication and unselfish care they have shown for each member of their group has been a revelation — an inspiration for how she will live the rest of her life.

Overcome by emotion, Luna’s tears begin to collect in her goggles once more, but when she takes them off, she realizes the ashen clouds have subsided, at least for the moment. The fallout has dissipated, with only a few flurries of ash swirling in the air. A faint glimmer of gold light breaks through like an act of mercy, causing Luna’s mood to change dramatically. Others have noticed the change as well, and there are murmurings of a hint of sun and a break from the downpour of cinder and smoke. Noah elevates spirits further when he spots something off to the side of the road. He commands everyone to halt while he wades through the ash to an object buried in dust, nearly invisible against the grey backdrop. He wipes away the volcanic filth in one long swipe to reveal a green metal sign with the word “Shetland” in white sans-serif letters.