The Journal: Ash Fall (34 page)

“Just one thing, Mom,” Eric added. “On our
way here we noticed that the ash in the air is significantly less.
Do you think it’s stopped?”

I gazed out the glass door into the yard. It
was still covered in a thick blanket of gray and darker gray. The
fence around the garden looked like a lacy web of clingy soot with
every crevice of the chicken wire packed full of ash and more ash.
Trees were now bending under the weight of it, coating the now
invisible tender green leaves. Some were bending so low they looked
as though they were ready to snap; maybe they would. The ground was
cloaked with more of the monotonous color. Everything, literally
everything, was the same dull, muted, ugly gray, even the sky. But
Eric was right, what was drifting in the air was noticeably
less.

“It does look less, yes. I sure hope its
stopping! Maybe because we’re on the northern edge it will stop
sooner. I just don’t know, and now there’s no way to find out,” I
said to my sons.

“What do you mean?” Jason questioned as he
set a freshly washed hind quarter on the table and began
dis-jointing it.

“I apologize for not telling you yesterday.
When I called Tom White in Marquette, someone else answered the
phone: a general. The military has moved in, and they’re rounding
everyone up,” I cast my eyes down.

“What?” they both said.

“He thinks I was in the city, if he believed
me that is.” I looked at the three men around me. “Moose Creek is
too insignificant to matter, and I’m fairly certainly we will be
left alone. To be on the safe side, Anna left a message on the
township phone that should misdirect any interest.”

Eric had been listening intently.

“Mom, do you want me to contact Captain
Andrews at Sawyer?” Eric said. “See if I can get more details?” He
looked at Mark and said, “That’s the captain that I had contact
with while waiting for my mom to come and vouch for us when we
showed up unexpectedly last winter.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Eric. I’d
rather not bring any attention to us at all,” I replied. “Plus we
don’t know if Andrews is even still there. An inquiry might only be
another red flag. Let’s just wait and see on this one. Besides, we
have work to do.” With that, we got back to cutting up meat.

By the end of the evening, I had processed
another twenty-eight jars of venison, half of which we had ground
first. Instead of more jerky, we had ground that too, mixing it
with the commercial seasonings, and made sausage for the smoker. We
had also cut several nice steaks from the rump that I seasoned and
that we would cook in a few days.

“I don’t know about you, Jason, but I’m
beat,” Eric admitted to his younger brother. “What do you say that
we load this meat in the smoker tomorrow? Can we leave the jerky
marinating? And I know the sausage should flavor cure a bit before
smoking.”

“Yes, just put it all in the refrigerator,” I
said. There was very little I kept in there anyway.

“Are you going to make a neck roast again,
Mom?” Jason asked with a grin. “Mark, she has this secret way of
stuffing and cooking a venison neck roast that is just
incredible.”

“Yeah, maybe Mark can get the secret from
her,” Eric punched his brother in the arm.

“Okay, neck roast it is. Tomorrow?” I
offered, feeling a bit embarrassed that they are recognizing Mark’s
place with me.

After those two had left and it was quiet
again, I deboned the neck roast, seasoned it, and let it chill down
in the refrigerator until tomorrow when I would stuff it with fresh
bread, canned ramp greens and mushrooms. There really wasn’t any
secret.

JOURNAL ENTRY: July 25

Twenty one quarts, three batches, of venison soup
that was heavy on the meat, are lined up on the counter and still
cooling. It is only six o’clock in the evening and I am already
tired.

I know the extra food, the extra meat, could mean
everything to us in the future, but I’m burning out. So much feels
futile.

Mark and I walked the marinating jerky and the
sausage over to the boys for them to load up the smoker. It wasn’t
much physical exercise, but it was good to get out of the
house.

* * *

CHAPTER 32

July 26

“I know you’re tired of cutting and canning
venison, Mom, but we might not have this opportunity again for a
long time,” Eric insisted. “Jason and I are going out again. We’ll
be back in a few hours or sooner.”

I couldn’t argue with his logic. This ash
cloud might very well kill off the entire local herd of deer, moose
and elk, not to mention all the smaller animals.

The grid power was still on, so I busied
myself with mundane chores, like laundry and puttering in the
greenhouse.

I was folding clothes on the large dining
room table when I heard a rifle shot.

“Sounds like they got something,” Mark
commented. “Are you ready for more work, Allex?”

“He did have a point, Mark. Our protein
availability may be…” and then I heard several shots, and then a
few more. “There’s trouble!” I said, racing for the greenhouse to
put on my bio-suit coveralls. I grabbed my hunter orange knit cap
so I could be easily seen by my sons, and my Mini-14 rifle. I
checked to make sure it was loaded, and I took an extra loaded
magazine from its hiding place in the clock and I was out the
pantry exit.

I raced down the hill toward the now sluggish
creek, its normally clear spring fed water muddied with volcanic
pumice, and I heard another report, and then another. My breathing
was labored behind the bio-mask as I lurched up the other side.

I wasn’t expecting the scene I stumbled into.
At least twenty deer lay scattered over a two acre area, some of
them struggling to move, others not even trying, still others
already dead. That wasn’t what made my blood run cold. It was the
wolves circling my sons! Eric was attempting to stand while Jason
stood, aiming with one hand, the rifle butt tucked in his armpit
and helping his brother with the other.

“Eric! Get up! You’re too much of a target on
the ground! Get up!” Jason yelled.

Another wolf lowered his head, slowly moving
forward, its teeth bared. Wolves were majestic, and this one was a
prime specimen. His thick dark gray and black coat bristled as he
stalked closer; tufts of dark brown rippled across his haunches as
he moved and its black speckled pink lips revealing long and deadly
fangs. I leveled my .223 at him and pulled the trigger. The male
leaped sideways from the impact and fell. The three other wolves
stopped but did not retreat.

I ran to join the fight. There wasn’t
anything I wouldn’t do to protect my children, even if they were
grown, maybe especially now that they are grown. No, that wasn’t
right either. My level of protectiveness knows no age limit, no
boundaries.

I could see that Jason was getting fatigued
from the dual task.

“You shoot, I’ll get Eric standing!” I told
him, and laid my rifle down beside Eric, who had stopped in a
sitting position. His left foot was bloody and the bio suit was
ripped to shreds below the knee.

“I’m going to get under your arms, Eric,
you’ll have to push with your right foot, okay?” He nodded,
obviously in a great deal of pain. “Now, push!” and with that he
staggered upright as I lifted. I led him over to a broken tree so
he could hold on, keeping upright, while I retrieved both of our
rifles.

Another shot rang out as Jason took down
another, then another. The last wolf turned and loped away.

I went back to the tree. Eric was looking
very pale. His teeth were clenched in pain and his breath came in
shallow gasps. I looked at the tears in his skin from the wolf’s
teeth. It looked really bad. I took off one of my shoes and pulled
off my sock. I cut it down both sides to the toe to give me one
long piece and tied it just below his knee, hoping to slow the loss
of blood.

“We need to get him back to the house. NOW!”
I yelled at Jason. I took both of our rifles and slung them across
my back, Jason doing the same with his. I found a long, sturdy
branch that Jason and I could both hold onto in front of us, while
Eric sat on it and held onto our shoulders. With the weight evenly
distributed and with us being able to move forward instead of
sideways, we cleared the earthen rise and descended to the creek
quickly. Going up the other side was more difficult and we
stumbled, and Eric cried out in pain. It was agonizing for me to
hear.

“Mom, I’m going to pick him up fireman-style,
and I need you to push me from behind, so I don’t lose my balance,”
Jason said, tossing aside the pole. It was slow, but steady, and
soon we were at the top. Only a few more yards and we’d be at the
house.

The glass door opened and Mark ran out,
putting his mask on. Jason let Eric slide off his shoulders while
Mark guided him to the ground. He grabbed Eric around the chest
from behind and lifted, while I kept his injured foot from dragging
on the ground and we moved him quickly into the house.

I swept all the laundry off the table,
letting it drop to the floor, and we laid Eric down.

“What happened?” Mark asked as he began to
cut away the bloodstained bio-suit. I ran a sink full of warm water
and got an armload of towels from the bathroom.

“There is a small herd of deer just beyond
the second rise that is struggling. Some have already died, most
are just lying there, barely breathing,” Jason explained. “We
didn’t even have to shoot, but Eric wanted to be humane. We could
have just walked up to them and slit their throats. As soon as Eric
made the belly cut to dress out the deer, the first wolf showed up.
We didn’t hear it and I saw it only after, while I was looking for
the next deer to shoot. Before I could even raise my rifle, the
wolf was on Eric, dragging him away by the foot, and Eric was
kicking and screaming. I had to get real close to shoot or risk
hitting Eric,” Jason sobbed. “Then the others showed up. I started
picking them off, but honestly? I was scared and shaking. I know I
missed a few.” He paced, stopping to rip off his suit.

“Eric had set his rifle against a log when he
started gutting, and he was dragged too far to reach it. After I
shot that one, Eric crawled back to the deer, maybe to get his
rifle, maybe for his knife, I don’t know, they just started coming
at us. I had to get Eric standing or they would have killed him.
That’s when you showed up, Mom.”

Mark had finished cutting away the pant leg,
and then the laces on the boot, removing it as gently as possible.
Eric still moaned.

“Allex, get his sock off then wash the area
so I can see,” Mark directed me as he opened the refrigerator. He
opened two of his medical boxes, pulling a couple of vials from
each and two syringes. He filled one and injected it into Eric’s
arm.

“A pain killer,” he explained. “It should put
him out for an hour while I do what I can.” He injected more into
the calf, above the mangle tissue. Eric was soon asleep.

“I need light, lots of light,” Mark said.
“And this table just won’t do, it’s too wide. What else can we
use?”

“How about my massage table? I can raise the
legs some on it. It’s vinyl so we can sanitize it, and there’s
padding so he’ll be more comfortable, plus it’s only thirty-two
inches wide,” I said, stroking Eric’s cheek while a tear slid down
mine.

I set up my table, adjusting the legs to give
the maximum height, one that Mark was comfortable with, and then I
wiped it down with bleach and draped it with a clean sheet. We set
up side tables for his instruments, positioning what extra lights
and lamps we had around the foot area. It took less than fifteen
minutes. We moved Eric carefully; the dead weight took the three of
us without dropping him.

Mark began. He put my son’s leg back together
from the horrific wolf attack. The bite marks were deep and would
leave scars. I handed clamps and retractors, wiped the flowing
blood from Eric’s calf and the sweat from Mark’s forehead so it
wouldn’t drip into his eyes and blind him.

“Number six suture,” he said, his eyes not
moving from his task. I searched and handed over what I found.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the bleeding lessened, and eventually
stopped. The internal wounds were closed, and the external
lacerations were closed with drainage tubes installed.

An hour after he had begun, Dr. Mark took off
his surgical mask and gloves, tossing them into the trash can.

“We’re done. Now it’s up to him,” he
announced. He sat back on the stool and closed his eyes. “Thank
you, both of you,” he looked at me, then to Jason, then back to me.
“I think he’s going to be fine. He might limp a little, but he
still has a foot, thanks to those boots.”

Jason let out a sob, as did I.

“He might need blood, though. Do you know
your blood types?” Mark asked.

“I’m 0+,” I said. “Both Eric and Jason are
A-.”

“I guess that leaves you to donate, Jason,”
Mark said.

“Anything. Take as much as you need,” Jason
responded.

“Hold on…” I said, looking out toward the
barn in the dimming light. “We have company.” The wolves had
followed the blood scent.

“How did so many wolves survive the ash
fall?” Mark said, clearly frustrated and not just a little
frightened.

“Wolves are highly intelligent, Dr. Mark. If
they sensed a problem, they would have hidden in their dens until
the threat subsided. By the time it passed, they would have been
really hungry, starving. With us harvesting the deer, it would have
sent the blood scent in the air, activating the blood lust. That
could be why they attacked,” Jason concluded.

“We need to take them out, Mom, or they will
never leave us alone,” he continued, getting off the table where he
was ready to donate blood to his brother. “I have to call
Amanda.”