A Return to Nature

The bedside clock read 04.55. Carefully Alison lifted the bed covers and swung her legs onto the floor. She switched on the bathroom light and quickly closed the door behind her. Mark got home so late last night she’d not heard him climb into bed. She didn’t want to wake him.

One of Alison’s New Year’s resolutions was to get fit, and part of this regime included a brisk morning run around her neighbourhood. She gave herself 45 minutes from the time she closed the front door behind her to the time she returned. She pulled on her tracksuit, splashed water on her face and ran a comb through her short brown hair. She was ready to run.

The lump under the bedcovers was still as she left the bathroom. Alison closed the bedroom door and went downstairs. The crisp morning air brushed her face as she stepped outside. Alison broke into a steady run down the road towards the first intersection down their street. She slipped easily into her rhythm, enjoying the sensation of being the only person on the roads. Alison’s thoughts drifted as always to the day ahead.

Her mental diary reminded her of the doctor’s appointment at 12.30, followed by lunch with her best friend Tanya. She had to catch up on her filing and get the minutes of the last board meeting posted. It was her parents’ anniversary tomorrow, so she would get them a present on the way home tonight. They were coming to dinner, and Alison would buy the ingredients for a chicken curry after work.

“Guess his favourite meal will make Mark smile, despite the presence of his in-laws”, she thought, turning down the road that led to the local park. “He’s been so depressed these last couple of days.”

The tranquillity of the park was the perfect place to muse over her concerns about her husband. His usually calm personality had not been very evident during the last week, especially since the trial had started. Mark was representing an environmental awareness group against the local granite quarry. The case wasn’t going well; the quarry had been mined for many years, and was supposed to have been closed and handed to the environmental organisation two years ago. The quarry was a scar in the middle of the mountain in a local wildlife conservancy. The owner of the land had given a consortium permission to mine the quarry for fifty years - with two conditions: a percentage of the profits would be used to develop the town’s infrastructure and after the fifty years all mining operations would cease so the land could return to nature. However the quarry’s longevity had lasted beyond the agreement, and now the mountain was being eroded by the creeping cancer of the mining operations.

The town nestled at the bottom of the mountain, which was clearly visible from every house. The mountain was once covered with graceful trees, wild flowers and shrubs. When it rained shining streams flowed gracefully down through the rocks and grasses. Over the years the vision had slowly tarnished, so today the huge excavation seemed to bleed a mist of dust that seeped down over the town. If the wind was blowing in the wrong direction the dust drifted into every single space. While the school, the cinema and shopping complex and neatly tarred roads were a benefit the quarry had outstayed its welcome. Almost every resident in the town wanted operations to cease.

Mark feared they were going to lose the case: “We can’t compete with these corporate players,” he told Alison. “They’re the rich guys, and this quarry makes them millions every year. They can tie us up in court for the next twenty years.”

Alison’s watch read 05.30 - time to head back home. As she turned back she glanced up at the mountain… and gasped.

The mountain was invisible. A thick grey curtain hung over it, completely obscuring it from view. Alison was shocked. The mountain and its scar had been there since she was a small girl, and its disappearance left her with an ominous feeling. Suddenly nothing looked familiar. Glancing around she realized the grey mist wasn’t just covering the mountain – it had shielded the entire town. The haze was overhead, lighting with the sunrise but completely concealing the sun. Was it her imagination or did the mist seem to be slowly moving down to the ground? She felt faint and claustrophobic, and ran back home.

When she got to her door she saw the haze pulsing overhead. Although it didn’t seem to have thickened or darkened it was menacing. Alison was certain the air had thickened with the mist, and took a deep breath. Was it her imagination or did the air that flooded her lungs feel like it was burning her throat? She coughed, and slammed the front door behind her. Inside the house the air was clean, and she breathed deeply again, trying to relax.

“Hey, you!” Mark came out of the kitchen, with a cup of strong coffee. He kissed her cheek. “Nice run?” Without waiting for an answer he went to the living room. Alison followed him.

“Mark, have you been outside? Looked through the window?”

He turned on the television set. “Not yet,” he replied, then frowned.

“We’ve got no signal. Wonder what’s happened…” his voice trailed off as he changed channels, searching for one of the news stations.

Alison went to the French doors overlooking the garden, and pulled back the curtain. “Look! Look outside!”

Mark ambled over, and almost dropped his coffee when he saw the mist hovering over the garden, shielding the wall and shrubs.

“You went out in THAT?”

Alison nodded: “Mark, it’s from the quarry. I couldn’t see the mountain.”

“This is what the conservancy thought would happen, but I don’t think they thought it would happen this quickly. It’s the quarry dust. The levels have been increasing over the last six months.”

“What are we going to do?” Alison’s voice trembled, betraying her nerves.

“There’s only one thing we can do,” Mark set his cup down, and moved towards the stairs. “We have to leave. You’ve no idea what that stuff can do to your lungs. We need to go – now.”

Half an hour later they were in the car, reversing out of their driveway. Alison had thrown some clothes, their toiletries and photo albums in a suitcase. Before they left she’d closed all the windows and bolted all the doors, hoping this last act would keep that ominous mist out of their home and away from their possessions.

Despite the fact that other residents obviously had the same idea it didn’t take long to reach the bridge on the road out of town. The bridge had completely vanished in the swirling grey clouds. Among the cars parked along the road next to the bridge was Alison’s friend Tanya, trying to use her phone. Alison and Mark went over to her.

“There’s no signal – and we can’t get to the bridge. It’s like we’ve been locked in,” Tanya told them.

“Has anyone tried to go over?” Alison asked.

Tanya looked at her in horror. “In that? You must be mad, Al. Have you smelt that dust? It’ll turn your lungs into concrete slabs.”

“I think we need to try,” said Mark, and turned to the crowd that was gathering around them. “Anyone want to give it a go?”

In the silence that followed the question seemed to hang in the air, Alison could have sworn she’d heard the grey mist whispering. It seemed to mock them - laugh at their dilemma.

“Fine – I’ll go.” To Alison’s horror Mark moved back to their car and fetched his jacket. Incredulous she hurried over to him.

“You can’t go, Mark! Let someone else go! Please don’t go!” she begged, grabbing his arm.

Smiling, Mark briefly touched her face: “No, Alison. I want to go. Don’t worry, - I’ll be back.”

Shrugging on his jacket he kissed her. Then he turned and was embraced by the mist as he moved into it and disappeared from Alison’s view.

Alison never saw Mark again.

But he saw her. After crossing the bridge through the quarry dust he followed the road for several hours. A passing vehicle stopped, and transported him to hospital, where he received treatment for his infected lungs. Three months later he found himself in the mortuary, weeping as he identified Alison’s body. She and the rest of the town’s residents had died after breathing the quarry dust resulting from the collapse of one of the tunnels in the quarry.

It took fifty years before the pollution from the quarry had reduced so that people could visit the area. It took fifty years for the scar to heal, for trees and grass to cover the blemish and for wild animals to return. Within fifty years the region had returned to nature, and was celebrated as one of the most beautiful sites in the country. Yet the terrifying history was well known, so no human being decided to settle in that area.

And that’s why today it’s still a place where man may visit, and marvel at the power of nature – because no man dares live or work there.

It’s safe from man’s greed. It’s a reminder of the power of nature.

1,564 words

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