Moon Light

The years passed, the old died remembering the other world, the young found it hard to live with the dead nearby. Authorities ordered the corpses hidden away in the old caverns never used, and afterwards to blast out new caverns. During one such excavation, he and his friends came across a long abandoned room, in which forgotten after all these years, their salvation stood, an imposing column. The old argued against the possibilities of the atom bombs working. The young, fed by the old stories, fought for the chance to at least try. After long days of debate and speculation, the preparations began. The scientists, wilted from trying to work out formulas to grow food in the dark, rejuvenated at the prospects of a real scientific problem. Let the farmers worry about the raising of mushrooms. They had found more important work to do. Sleepless nights, endless problems. Would just three atom bombs work? When the bombs landed successfully, could the pilot get out alive? The discovery of those atom bombs reawakened his dying world. Now it settled on him as those tireless men spoon-fed him all the information available, placing their trust in him. The chances, the choices, all must now turn into the right decisions.

Ignite the sun. He phrased it that way. When he said it, the phrase imposed a brilliant dread over the surrounding space; now it clung to the roof of her mouth, drifting out into the air, causing no ripples in the calm, just another sentence. There existed nothing except the fact he was leaving. Her mind struggled to accept, to understand what would soon happen. A bunch of befogged scientists, all convinced fires burned under the sun's crust, talked Don into carrying out their crazy scheme. When discussing the possibilities of his return, they stressed the power behind the bombs, the split second timing, leaving no doubt of his chances. He went anyway. According to her father, the most befogged of them all, today Don should reach the sun and drop his previous cargo. Her only relief, to stand searching the landscape, looking up at the sky, waiting for that brilliance that signaled his return, no longer calmed her.

Don took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Closer now than he even intended to be, craters opened before him. A volcano with its fires still burning; the red he had seen when just making his approach. Time to get away, they assured him of that much. Now, he gained courage with the thought of that assurance. He knew the dangers, but he had time to get away. There's the volcano that awaited his bombs. With a sharp intake of air, he gripped the arm of his chair, groping for the button he knew he must find there. Ready ? Now! Frantically, he pushed the button again and again. Nothing happened. Where was the weight loss, the sudden jar, the shooting up into the beckoning blackness? He still carried the warheads with him. Flying farther away from the live volcano. The panel clock ticked. No time. There was only one choice, one chance left. He couldn't return to earth, doomed to life underground. Shaking, he turned his craft around, steering for the volcano once more. A flame licked out of the crater's vent, like a dog knowing dinnertime is near, but unable to wait. Tears streamed freely down his cheeks as he headed inside. They would forgive him for this meant his salvation, his freedom as much as theirs. But, she never would.

It's not going to happen. Don finally saw there was no hope in dropping bombs on a dead planet, now he headed home. With a deep sigh of relief she turned back toward the door. Maybe the stories her mother told her were just that ? stories. Anyway, if they wanted colors, she would brighten the place up. Paper moons lasted longer, and they could be closer and bigger and even better. The door seemed to open easier. The tunnel pleaded to be painted a bright yellow. One last look out the window, then back to welcome Don home. Suddenly, a brightness made flashes stab through her head. Flinging her hands over her face, she dropped to the bare, cold floor, as though a puppeteer slashed her strings.

From the chaos beyond the stars tunneled a boring auger of light igniting the darkness of the cavern window, then richoting back to the chaos.