The sky grew increasingly dark, and the thin lines of rain marked the sky. Except it wasn’t rain. It was falling ash; burning, incendiary ash. It started to fall all around them, graying the air, searing their skin; burning away Santiago’s fur and the man’s clothes.
They had not run far enough away.
Within seconds, the ash became thick and unyielding, and although Santiago through his pain and failing eye thought he could see the edge of the ash storm farther up in the mountains, there was no way two old men, exhausted and dying, could outrun the blanket of ash that covered all.
2548
“There’s one all the way up here,” Zoey called to Devon. She waved to him from behind a patch of dry brush that covered the desolate hillside. “This one is really well preserved.”
Devon jogged up the hill carrying all of their scanning equipment. As he studied the figure, he said, “Hmm. A man and his cat. Nice find, Zo. I’ll have the guys come and get it. This one must have been on the edge of that rainstorm that came up just after Vesuvius exploded. The details are nice and crisp.” He tapped the stone lightly with his small mallet. “Sounds hollow. We might be able to get some good information from this one and cast it.”
Devon moved on, as he always did, in a hurry to find the next specimen, in a hurry to collect their data and get home and away from this blackened no man’s land of beetles and scrub, back to their home in the green north.
Zoey paused and glanced back at the man. She’d become an archeologist because she’d wanted to know how their ancestors lived before the United Colonies of the North became one of the last remaining outposts of civilization. She was curious as to how human populations had operated when the earth still supported over seven billion people, with countries on all continents. She could hardly imagine—seven billion people. Surely that was an exaggeration.
She’d read all the accounts by the elders, all the stories of the 753 people who’d survived because they were in Arctic outposts or on research vessels in the north. But the historical record had so many gaps, so many varying stories, and there were so many deniers. Even now Rainy Armestan was gathering people around him to build his case that the elders had lied about the relative equality of the races and women, about the seven billion people. Because, after all, if the predominantly white colonies had been placed on earth by the divine God of the North only a few hundred years ago, if the seven billion people had never existed, if the races had never been equal, then that would justify the extermination of the wastrel clans to the south. Call into question one element of the elder accounts, and they all became suspect.
But now that the atmospheric ash layer had dissipated and the ice had receded, colony archeologists were beginning to find hard evidence to back up the claims of the elders. The ruins around Vesuvius were particularly special. In most parts of the world, the supervolcanoes had incinerated everyone and everything in the surrounding area; and the subsequent famine and ice age had eradicated much evidence of human civilization.
But Vesuvius’s ash fall had preserved many people and buildings in stone, allowing their dress and customs to be studied. And here in a pocket to the east of Vesuvius, a heavy rain right after the ash fall had cooled the stone sufficiently that the artifacts were encased and mummified, rather than petrified, which allowed for even greater opportunities to collect DNA, and actual objects from the epoch of the explosion. The researchers yesterday had even discovered a small cache of intact books—a gold mine of cultural information—in a house at the bottom of this hill.
Zoey looked back at the ash-formed statue of the man, his arms cradling the small feline with a stubby tail, and his head bent over the cat as if to protect him; as if he might be talking to the cat as they both sat, waiting for death to take them together.
She fluttered away a tear on her eyelash that discovering and recovering bones had never caused her before. At least they knew one thing for sure now: their ancestors had loved animals.
Specimen 4938; Mt. Vesuvius: Extremely well-preserved specimen of older man with cat. Exposure to brief rain subsequent to ash fall hardened shell without fully destroying clothing and other items on body. Man was carrying a small book entitled Le Poesie di Santiago by Alberto Rossi, and a picture of a woman with “Sofia 1979” written on the back. No other information was found. Man and cat have been removed to Vesuvius Warehouse 1 and are to be taken to the Colonies for further study. TBD if the ash-fall outer mold is strong enough to cast a life-sized statue.
A Word from Jennifer Ellis
I love animals, especially companion animals. I sometimes get into trouble for greeting my friends’ pets more enthusiastically than I greet my friends. I’ve owned hamsters, guinea pigs, rats, goldfish (who hasn’t?), cats, dogs, assorted bugs, and a very large snail (a.k.a. Snailie—well, he was actually my son’s, but we all felt his loss keenly). Right now, I have two crazy and beloved cats—one almost 19 years old and the other almost 19 weeks old. I’m also a known dog borrower and cat sitter in my neighborhood, and I spend a lot of time outside dodging the bears, who seem to like to hang around in our yard and on the trails in our community. So when Chris Pourteau asked me to participate in this anthology, I could not have been more thrilled.
Santiago came to me as a fully formed character. Even though I have a geriatric cat who continues to defy our vet’s expectations and is a major hit in the old folks’ home when she visits, Santiago is his own man. My pets, and the pets I look after, continually surprise me with their intelligence, heart, and problem-solving abilities. It was fun to explore how a crafty street cat might navigate and contemplate his life, and writing about the deep bond that can exist between humans and animals was both a joy and a privilege. I know that when the apocalypse hits, I want a few four-legged friends watching my back.
I live in the mountains of British Columbia where I ski, run, write, and keep cats. Add in two teenage boys and their friends, and mayhem often reigns in my household. I also work as an environmental researcher and strategic planning consultant when the cats agree to get off my desk.
I write science fiction, romance, and dystopian fiction for children and adults, including Apocalypse Weird: Reversal in Wonderment Media’s Apocalypse Weird world and A Pair of Docks, which was a bestseller in children’s time-travel fiction. I’ve also contributed to several anthologies, most notably Synchronic: 13 Tales of Time Travel, which hit #16 in the Kindle Store.
You can subscribe to my blog for the latest book news and industry insights at www.jenniferellis.ca. I tweet about writing, cats, and teenagers at @jenniferlellis.
Demon and Emily
(a Symphony of War short story)