Everyone seemed of the opinion that all life in Diamond had expired when the air turned fatal, but the Fall was proof that, even in the harshest conditions, predators would adapt.
As prepared as he could be, Cam seated himself and drove on, the rumbling engine a good sign. Despite the lack of electronics on board, there’d been concern that machines just plain wouldn’t work.
With Burton not even stuttering, he kept going. Soon it wasn’t just the ash on the ground that swirled in the air as his passage disturbed it. Speckles of it arrived on a light breeze.
He couldn’t have said when he passed the border that demarked Marshland from Diamond. Borders obviously meant nothing to the tainted air. The longer he travelled, the more he fully grasped the horror of what awaited the Marshlands if the calamity that struck Diamond wasn’t stopped.
Forget clumps of grass or hints of sky. Everything he saw was dead. Trees. Bushes. The ground was a shifting mass of ash. Not a hint of green or blue or purple to be seen.
Nothing moved. The sun, while bright that morning, barely penetrated the haze. The way it illuminated the fluffy dust left him almost blind. It meant he had to watch even more intently.
Burton plowed through the swirling fog of ash, not daunted in the least. The monotonous journey went on for hours. Long, boring hours where he had to jab himself until he felt pain to avoid nodding off.
Thump-thump. The machine rolled over a swell that proved solid enough that he was curious. Which was probably stupid.
Affixing his helmet, he checked all the seals like Riella taught him. It felt strange to hear himself breathing in the confines of the sealed glass. The gloves, while form-fitting, did require getting used to, which was why he made sure he pulled his gun from the holster and had a good grip on it before he entered the tiny cubicle by the exit hatch. The addition Riella created would offer him a way in and out of the tank without inviting the ash inside. It felt like a coffin those few moments where he sealed one entrance and waited to hear it click before opening the other. Even then, a curtain of plastic strips hung down to prevent the worst of the debris from drifting in.
The hatch hit the ground with a clang, forming a ramp for him to walk down. He stepped into the ash, his foot sinking past his ankle. He eyed where it touched the armor, waiting to see if it sizzled and burned. It brushed off easily at the flick of a gloved finger. He didn’t realize he held his breath until his lungs screamed for air.
Whew. He breathed out, then in, taking a moment to reassure himself he wouldn’t suffocate before turning to look around. Standing outside the tank didn’t change his view. Still a barren wasteland, just not comprised of hard-packed dirt or loose sand. Kicking his feet produced puffs that hung in the air before slowly sinking.
He trudged to the rear of Burton and then a few feet more to see what he’d run over. Probably a fallen tree or a rock. Not surprising given no one was caring for the road anymore. The only reason he even suspected it was a road was because it ran through the dead forest in what was an obviously cleared route.
The lump he’d run over appeared partially crushed. Kneeling, he brushed at the ash to see what it was. Rocked on his heels when he uncovered it.
A person lay on the ground, nothing more than bones still partially encased in clothing, a large pack by its side. Dead for a while by all appearances. They wore a mask of some kind. At least the skull did, not that it had helped them. More perturbing, no one had disturbed the bones until Burton crushed them. The pack remained shut, and when he opened it, he found more of the masks and a few packs of travel rations that probably weren’t any good. Some kind of peddler thinking he could make a trade, except it turned out his goods weren’t all that great after all.
Returning to Burton, Cam clipped a line from the reel on his belt to the tank. He chose a direction to walk away from the road amidst the trees, soon losing sight of his vehicle in the drifting ash. He kept his breathing steady, lest he panic at the lack of anything in this dead place.
Thirty paces and there was nothing to see. Just more ash, more stunted trees, and the skull of some strange creature long expired.
The other side of the tank was the same, minus the animal remains. His exploration accomplished nothing except to reinforce the fact that the deadness appeared constant in all directions.
Where did the ash come from? Fire produced ash, and yet he saw no signs of anything burning. Although it was warm. Much warmer than he expected given the stories of the snow and ice that once covered the mountain peaks. The chills in the valleys. He had a warm parka and blankets in the tank in case the temperature dropped. However, he doubted that would be the case here.
He returned to Burton and had to spend a moment longer than he liked in the cubicle while he activated a suction system to rid himself of as much of the poison ash as possible. Since there were no electronics, it required him hand cranking a fan that blew at him, dusting most of the ash from the suit. He swept it outside then blew again just because.
When he’d cleaned himself as best he could, he entered the main body of the vehicle. He kept the suit on but stripped out of the helmet and tucked the gloves into the belt at his waist. He’d be using them again soon.
With nothing to filter the air, he couldn’t help but notice a hint of something acrid to it. A taste of what lay outside. Nothing burned. He didn’t choke.
Yet.
He spent a moment perusing the old map he’d purchased from a vendor in Eden’s marketplace. Although map was being generous to the lines scribbled on a leathery hide, some marks indecipherable. But authentic the peddler swore when he sold it to Cam.
If it were accurate, then the road he followed would lead him into a town. Couldn’t miss it, as he’d drive right through it. He couldn’t be sure of the distance, but he found it a few hours later.
It was even eerier than the one abandoned in the Marshlands. It appeared wraithlike in the falling ash, everything a dull gray.
Suited up once more, Cam walked in and out of the abandoned homes, noticing the furniture still in place, the tables bare, the beds empty. The chairs sat waiting for someone to use them.
What he didn’t see? Bodies. Nothing but decaying remnants of household goods and no indication of what had happened to the inhabitants.
As he stepped from the last building, his imagination chose to act up. The swirling ash that blew at his face appeared like a mouth wide open to scream.
He flinched and hurried back to Burton. He rushed through the decontamination process and, soon as he could, started driving again, but not for long.
As night fell, visibility dropped to nothing, but of interest, the ash fall stopped, too. Fascinated, he halted the truck, suited up, and went outside. A chill he’d not felt in the day made him shiver, but he ignored the cold and glanced upward at the stars.
Why did the ash appear only by day and not at night?
He chose to drive a little while longer until he found an open spot. For security, he set up a simple set of warning bells tied by wire. If anything tripped them, they’d wake him.
He slept on a folded blanket. Not very well. He dreamed of his sister, screaming at Roark, hitting him and saying she had to go find her brother. Had to go find Cam.
Roark folded her in his arms and said, “He’s a grown man, and he’s made a choice.”
“The wrong one!” Casey yelled.
“Don’t worry. He’ll come back to you.”