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Robert Wilson was mad. The morning meeting had dragged on too long, everyone wanted to talk about the earthquakes, and it was getting late as he completed the preflight on his Cessna 172. He had plenty of time to return to Roswell. But he knew Marjory would not be happy if he was late for dinner at the club. Sometimes he wished that he hadn’t married the boss’s daughter.
The increasing headwinds were a concern. The radio indicated there had been several big quakes after he was in the air. There was more lightning, and the winds were gusting with turbulence increasing. After he was over the mountains, he dropped down to 6000 feet. But did not find improved conditions. Robert was a good pilot, but these conditions were pushing him way beyond his comfort zone. Glad that Roswell had long runways, built for B-52’s in the late 50’s, so he could come in hot.
As he was starting his approach from south of the airport, the sky went blue, the navigation system, radios, instruments, and engine died. With a curse, he fought to keep control, knowing he would not make it to the airport. He automatically started to broadcast a Mayday, and then flung off the headset, realizing that the radio was dead.
There was a big patch of green beside a house, and he almost made it. The gear hit a rabbit fence, which flipped the aircraft, and then everything went black.
The next thing Robert remembered was pain, hanging upside down, and an old man yelling at him to unbuckle his belt. When he did, he landed on his head, and was pulled out through the broken windshield. He was dragged across the field into the house and then down into a black hole.
While Mrs. Garza and Maria were attending to the stranger’s injuries, Hector went to start the generator.
It was powered from the propane tank buried behind the house. Things went dark when the utility power went out. The sky was now black and ash was falling like a blinding snowstorm. It was hot, and some paper in the yard started smoking. By the time Hector got the hose connected and water from the well flowing, there was an inch of hot ash on everything, and flammable objects were igniting.
The adobe walls and the tin roof wouldn’t burn, but the rafters and framing were made of lumber. For the next six hours Hector and Matt kept spraying water on the underside of the roof to keep the wood holding it up from igniting. The tin roof was initially hot enough to flash the water to steam, and it filled the attic. After the first hour, when Hector could stand it no longer, Matt took the hose for a while and continued the defense against the relentless heat.
It took three hours before the tin roof was cooled enough to not flash into steam. When some of the wooden window frames started smoking, Maria threw a dishpan of water on them. Inside the house, the air was full of dust, and she tied wet rags around everyone’s face.
As the wind kept rising, and mini-firestorms appeared. The tires on the truck burned. When the house was shaking again, Hector ordered everyone to take shelter in the storm cellar. As the wind continued to roar at hurricane strength, the rain fell in sheets. It extinguished any remaining fires and cooled the fallen ash layer. The wind died down 48 hours after it started, but the rain continued unabated.
Robert awoke much later to more pain, and a woman’s voice.
“Drink this, it will ease the pain,” she said.
In the days and weeks that followed, Mrs. Garza and Maria nursed the stranger through a bad period. He had suffered a concussion, a deep cut on his forehead, and had several teeth knocked out. Their patient could only mumble and was bed-ridden for three weeks.
One morning, he sat up and asked, “Where am I?”
Maria answered, “You’re at what’s left of the Garza farm, south of Roswell. We’ve had earthquakes, hurricane winds, volcanic ash, and torrential rain for the last three weeks. Everything is flooded. The quake sloshed most of the water out of our reservoir, but now it’s overflowing. That’s over five feet of rain.”
Robert tried to get up, and shouted, “Oh my God, I’ve got to get to my wife! She’s all-alone. I’ve got to get into Roswell!”
Hector answered, “We can’t go anywhere now. The water in the yard is knee deep, and you aren’t up to walking yet.”
What Hector did not say, was that the area had been covered by a two inch thick layer of hot volcanic ash which ignited everything flammable it contacted. The adobe walls, tin roof, and the streams of water sprayed on it had saved them.
When two weeks later, as the rain eased, Robert looked into the burned out barn and vehicles in the front yard, and understood. “They’re all gone aren’t they?”
Maria was standing behind him. She put an arm around his shoulders and said, “I’m afraid it’s likely.” He turned, buried his face into her shoulder and hair, and let his grief consume him.
Much later, Robert faced the fact that he, and everyone, who survived, would have to move on with their lives. That night, he kissed Maria, and joined her in bed. The Garzas were not surprised, and pleased at the attachment, which developed in the preceding weeks.
Matthew was also pleased to have a decent man in his mom’s life.
