Desolation

“Can we go see Mom now?” Darla begged, putting her arm around her father as they walked the house.

“I’m Steve, ahh, Mr. Thompson.” Steve came over, hand out.

“Bill’s correct, enough of the formalities. Call me Uncle Max. And you can tell me about you as you help me into the house.”

57. New Home

After several days of exchanging stories, laughter, and tears while Max healed, everyone felt a tension in the air. A decision had to be made. Herb offered them all sanctuary at his ranch, inviting them to stay as long as they wanted—forever even, if they wished.

Max told them about Cicada. He made them all swear not to tell another soul, because of its importance in finding answers to what ailed their world. When he was fully healed he would leave; he offered them all the chance to come with him. He stressed that no one but the top scientists and their immediate families were given this offer. He also explained that everyone would have a job, and he was sure that some of their skills were definitely needed.

“Sally, Darla, Steve, your IT skills will come in handy as I know we will need help with all the computers. Bill, we will need the skills you have developed in your business over the years. Lisa, someone who is as organized as you, and your years of being on management teams for companies, will be put to good use. Miguel and Maria, and of course your daughter, and everyone else here, there is a place for you, if you would like.”

They all struggled with this because they suspected not everyone would go and that meant they would not all be together.

“Darla, I think it’s time that I show you what we’ve been working on all these days and evenings. Come on,” Steve said to everyone. “You can all come, because this will affect your decision.” He led Darla by the hand and walked the group out the back and to the canyon.

“Wow, Herb, this place is amazing,” said Lisa, holding her husband’s hand and looking up at the ridge.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Herb chortled.

They were quiet, except for their collective “oohs” and “ahhs,” until they reached the mouth of the cave and stopped as Herb played tour guide. “The best I can figure, this cave was naturally created, but then made much better by an Indian tribe a thousand or so years ago. It actually connects to caves below ground that go for hundreds of miles, maybe even as far as Carlsbad Caverns.”

He ushered them through the cave opening. It was a dark tunnel that appeared to be lit from the other side. When they emerged on the other side, they were in a giant, cigar-shaped, atrium-like area, surrounded by natural red cliff walls, with a walkway spiraling up around the outside all the way to the top, maybe one hundred feet above.

“God made the structure, but the Indians carved this amazing corkscrew walkway up and around the whole place. They also carved each of these individual caves out, amazingly with hand tools. It must have taken years to complete. Each one of these holes,” he said as he led them up the walkway and past the first hole, directing their attention to it, “is a carved-out two-room structure. It’s not big by our Before Event standards, but more than comfy for two people.”

Herb stopped in front of the second of the cave holes. “I figured if the sun continues to be as strong as it is, we can’t stay in our normal houses outside. It will be just too strong. So, I thought it best to start the process of moving into the caves.” He nodded to Steve, who picked up where he left off.

“So, what we have been working on, Darla”—Steve stepped in front of the opening and held out his hand for her—“is our home.”

She grabbed his hand, curious and excited, and followed him through the opening, recently enlarged to accommodate their taller, more modern frames. The room opened up to be about ten feet high and equally wide. Darla was mesmerized, taking it all in. This was a living and dining area, with a couch, two chairs, and a table. In a carved niche rested a photograph they had taken of themselves at the lake when they first met, or rather met again—Steve must have been carrying it with him the whole time. It was in a wood frame that looked hand-made with care.

“Oh my God, I love this. Did you carve the frame?” She asked holding it up to him, and then handing it to Bill and Lisa, who had joined them.

Steve just shrugged his shoulders and grinned, overjoyed at her reaction.

She clapped in delight as she turned and led them into the next passageway, where a plastic privacy curtain blocked entry. She pushed it aside and then stepped into their bedroom. Natural light came through a window carved out of the stone, evidently from the other end of the cliffs. The room held a small bed, perfect for the two of them, and on the other side was a baby crib, made of hand-carved tree branches, with a swaddling blanket folded neatly inside.