TEN

 

 

Moscow, Idaho

October 21, 2035

 

I looked down the gray-coated street. Maybe the ghosts of all the dead children were still playing there. Maybe after today I would be able to see them, hear their laughter. It would be nice to see laughter on this street again.

The gray dust under my feet was the same color as I remembered the hull of the ship. A vast cloud of gray dust, probably material from the hull, had poured out of the northern side of the mountain.

In the end it was lucky that there was very little wind. The cloud of gray dust settled silently in the night over the small city of Moscow, Idaho, and killed everyone in that city instantly. Most in their sleep.

The specialists say that if there had been a wind it could have been much worse, taking out Missoula and other cities east.

By the next morning the dust had quit spewing from the side of the mountain and it rained. A simple fall rain that turned the gray dust into something harder than concrete, gluing death to everything it touched.

Exploration teams eventually entered the mountain and the old mine and found what was left, a melted mass of grayness in a huge empty hole in the ground. They explored that hole for a while, until it became clear there was nothing to gain. Then they left and sealed off the area. Left the dead frozen in their sleep. Set up guards to keep the world out.

There was nothing else the world could do.

No one lives within a hundred-mile radius of Moscow, Idaho, now.

And no one will for centuries.

I took one last look at the street, hoping to see children playing there. Then I turned into the house. Carefully placing my feet in my footprints from my very first visit I climbed the stairs to my parents’ room.

For only a moment I thought about going down to my old room, to the safety it offered. But then turned and went into their room.

“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad,” I said, but my voice echoed around inside my protective suit. “I’d like to pretend it’s Christmas morning. Can I join you?”

Without waiting for an answer I strode across the unmarked dust on the floor around their bed.

I unzipped my suit, took off my helmet, and took a deep breath. The air smelled dry and stale and I felt my eyelids getting heavy.

Quickly I jumped onto the bed and then laid down beside Mom. I didn’t look at them because I didn’t want to know if I had disturbed the scene.

I took another deep breath and let it slowly out. For a moment I thought I could smell Grandpa’s pipe smoke and hear his cackling, crazy laughter.

For some reason that made me smile.

I took one last deep breath.

Outside, beyond the window, I heard the sounds of children laughing and playing in the street.