Ashes and Daydreams

Chapter 6: The Dead Sun

"Darlena, I have a serious question," Anna asked, her eyes glistening with tears.

"What is it?"

"Will we ever see the sun again? Or will the sky be filled with smoke and ash forever?"

I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to see an empty future. We probably would never see the sun again. Plants would die, and we'd die without them. Maybe this really was the apocalypse.

"Well, we can't lose hope. maybe we'll wake up and realize that this was all just a terrible nightmare."

I couldn't force myself to be honest.

"Anna, we're on our own now," I said. "Do you know how much food we have left?"

Anna shook her head no.

I made my way over to the pantry, and counted the number of cans we had. Anything in a can, I assumed we could eat. I couldn't read the labels, they were all covered in ash. Eating them would be guesswork.

"Twenty-three," I announced. "If we both eat one can a a day, that will last us about eleven days. But that's only with one can. We need to get more food if we're going to survive."

"Why do we need to survive? What's the point of living when everyone else around us is dead? When the whole world is dead?"

"Don't say that, Anna. You don't know that. Maybe there are other people with oxygen masks."

But I never really answered her question. Because I didn't have an answer myself.

I grabbed two cans and handed one to Anna. "Bon appetit," I announced.

And I realized the flaw of our plan. We couldn't tell if it was night or day. The ash blocked out the sun. How were we supposed to know when one day had passed and we could eat?

Furthermore, how was more food going to be produced in the future?

How long would the volcano itself heat the world? After that, how cold would it get?

I opened the can and ate a peach. I hadn't eaten in what felt like forever, and the sweet peach brought comfort to me. Syrupy juice trickled from the corner of my mouth.

Anna wasn't so lucky, and she had a can of cold string beans.

I stiffled a laugh.

But then I remembered everything, and I realized I'd never, ever laugh again.