I returned to the car and sat in the driver’s seat.
“Crank it. Don’t stop until I tell you,” Madison yelled. “Now.”
I turned the key and not only listened to the crank, but Madison as she banged.
Finally it started.
We both screamed in victory, I cranked up the heater and she hurried inside.
“Won’t be long.” Madison rubbed her hands together. “Keep this running until it gets light enough to move. Be warm in a second, Ruth.” She looked back. “Ruth?”
Ruth made a noise.
“Ruth wake up. Get that heart pumping.” Madison reached back and shook her.
Ruth lifted her hand and swung at Madison. When she did, Madison stopped her mid swipe and grabbed her hand.
“Oh my God. Her fingers are blue.” She said. “Ruth?” Madison said her name, then said it louder. “Ruth!”
While Ruth did reply, it was hard to understand, almost inaudible, a near groaning sound. She moved her hands and tossed off her blankets.
We didn’t know what it was, but something was wrong with Ruth.
We stayed in the car, heater running, until we couldn’t stay in there anymore. I had removed my coat, it was so warm. Our first thought was Ruth was suffering from hypothermia but she was still confused, even after warming up. We didn’t dismiss a possible stroke. Truth was, neither of us being medical professionals, we just didn’t know.
After plying her with blankets, not only did we have the facemask on her, but the oxygen flowed freely into her nostrils. Ruth was breathing, but she was lethargic.
Neither Madison, nor myself wanted to say it, but I could tell she felt the same way I did. We took Ruth with us, took her from her bed, her home, with hopes of making it to a better place, only to have her dying in an ash filled barren world.
Even walking, it was hard to tell when we were on the road, or off. We took turns pushing Ruth in the wheelchair. It moved sluggishly and was weighed down. I still had my metal rod that I used as a walking stick at first, and like a person without sight I scraped the stick left to right as I walked. As long as it sounded like concrete, we were on the road, twice I stepped off.
The ash created a haze, each step brushed up more. It reminded me of the time four years earlier when we went camping. It was so hot and humid that when it rained, it caused a fog so thick I couldn’t see ten feet in front of me. This was similar.
It was almost frightening.
There was no sound, just our crunching footsteps and the squeaky wheel of the chair.
We lugged everything we had, and it seemed as if there were no end.
When it was my turned to push Ruth, I kept tapping her shoulder, getting a response, making sure she was still alive. I hoped and prayed that we found medical help soon. It was unfair. This vibrant, spry and intelligent woman was just deteriorating before us.
It wasn’t her time to go, not yet and she was pushing at death’s door because we opened it.
I spoke to her about my family, my kids, my husband and his quirks. I asked her questions that she never answered, but I pretended she did.
It seemed as if we were walking forever, in fact, according to my watch, we had been walking three hours. Nonstop, no breaks, until Madison halted.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
She extended the metal rod. “Up ahead. I see lights. A couple orange, and a blinking white one.”
I didn’t see what she described, then again I didn’t have my glasses. Not that I needed them much, or was required to wear them when I drove, my sight wasn’t that bad, but they helped. “I don’t see any.”
Ruth muttered. “Mirage.”
I shrieked with joy at her response. It was a response. “Yes. Yes it is.”
“No, no it’s not,” Madison said. “Look.”
Madison was right. Every foot we moved the lights became clearer.
Without a doubt there was a blinking white light higher in the sky and lower there were orange lights.
My first thought was a rescue center. That the orange lights were headlights and the strobe like one was a beacon.
I was filled with hope. Suddenly, the sluggish ash wasn’t in my way, it wasn’t holding me back. I pushed Ruth’s wheelchair faster and seemingly with more ease. There was a sense of relief that came as well. If there was a rescue center ahead, Ruth would get medical help.
Someone was ahead. Others were alive.
SEVENTEEN – IN PLANE VIEW
When Madison said, “This has to be a sign, or it means something.” I knew exactly what she meant.
As the haze lifted not only did the blinking light grow larger, but also shades of white and blue came into my view. When we emerged through, it struck me that it all had to be part of fate. A puzzle pieced together that I eventually would solve. Maybe it was a sign. First, I was at the airport when everything went down. Second, I found refuge in an airplane after I emerged from that hole. And now I stood, staring at another plane.
A huge Boeing 737 was horizontal in front of us. A single side door was open and from it was a makeshift ladder. Inside were sporadic dim lights, possibly from candles or lanterns. As we made our approach we spotted a man in his fifties, lighting what seemed to be improvised torch lights that perched on a perimeter outside the plane.
He wore a soiled white shirt, his hair was gray, but not from ash. He was remarkably clean in an area encompassed by dirt.
When he spotted us, he immediately stopped what he was doing and rushed our way. That was when I noticed that airline seats formed a fence like circumference around the plane marking off an area that was strangely free from ash. As if they took a broom and continuously kept a clean circle.
His smile turned into concern when he saw Ruth. “My God, let me help you,” he said. “This way.” He took over my position behind the wheelchair and moved it with ease ahead of us.
Walking was easier, too. Not just because the ash was removed, but I discovered somehow in our journey we had wandered off the path, and off the road.
The plane was on the highway… we weren’t.
He moved the wheelchair quickly to the side door of the plane. “Anna,” he hollered aiming his voice at the open door. “Anna, grab Bill, we have an emergency to leverage up to you.”
Madison and I arrived at Ruth’s side.
“What’s her name?” he asked.
“Ruth,” I answered.
“How old? Do you know?” he questioned further.
“Ninety-two.”
He crouched down and began removing the layers of blankets. “Ruth, we’re gonna do our best to make you better. Anna is a good woman.”
Within seconds, an Asian woman appeared at the plane’s door with another man. Whether he was a medical professional or not, we didn’t know. She was. At least I thought so. Her age was hard to tell, she wasn’t young, but she wasn’t old either. Her hair was pulled in a sloppy pony tail and she wore pale green hospital scrubs. From the door they lowered a chair, harnessed by two straps.
The gray haired man lifted Ruth with ease from the wheel chair and placed her in the chair that had been lowered down. He buckled her in, gave a hand signal and called up to Anna, “Her name is Ruth, she’s ninety-two.”
“Got it,” Anna replied as she and the man lifted Ruth up and into the plane.
I stood there watching as they removed her from the chair.
“Give them some time to look her over,” he said.
My eyes were focused on the plane. I stepped back trying to see through the windows. They were so high, it was nearly impossible.
“Did you crash out here?” Madison asked.
“No. We had to land,” he said. “No choice.”