Distinctly Montana Magazine

D I S T I N C T L Y M O N T A N A M A G A Z I N E • W I N T E R 2 0 2 1 34 nodules, especially on the backs of hands, legs, on ribs, and in joints. The bone growths in joints make moving the limb extraordinarily painful, and domestic livestock, wildlife and humans will all be rendered essentially immobile from pain and their body's own berserk urge to grow new, unnecessary bone matter. The ash may be enough to destroy America's farm belt's ability to grow food for years, even decades. Some entire regions which were previously able to sustain their own food production are unable to grow it ever again, or at least not in one human lifetime. A mass extinction is almost certain. Some of the Western United States' flora and fauna are never able to recover, while other species must adapt to dramatically changing circumstances or die. Small mammals do better than large ones. Scav- enging animals will have to contend with respira- tory problems, poison, sudden climate change, and a host of other concerns. But they will not go hungry for lack of dead flesh, as millions of tons of biomass is, simply and irrevocably, extinguished. The world is enshrouded in cold and dark, and sleep comes uneasily to the inhabitants of the Earth. Fifty or sixty years after the blast, after decades of black devastation and famine, after the holy wars and territorial disputes over what parts of the world were still habitable, someone who hadn't even been born when the eruption occurred walks along a rough-hewn path in what used to be called Yellowstone National Park. He walks in a giant field of lava rock that stretches miles and miles. It is known to his people as a holy but terrible place. He regards it with fear and awe, but can't quite picture the event that created it. He tries to capture it in his mind—he's seen rudimentary fireworks, even simple combustion engines made from scavenged parts, so he tries to picture a larger version of that small explosion. Much larger. As large as the caldera through which he walks in his simple, worn shoes. In the end, he just can't envision it. It's too massive, an event on a scale not meant to be grasped by humans. Proof, in fact, that the world is not necessarily made for humans at all. But he looks down, and amongst the grey uniformity of the basalt are thousands of little green plants forcing their roots into the sparse soil. The young man adjusts his bag over one shoulder and reflects. Life isn't over. Oh no, not yet. FOOD PRODUCTION IS DESTROYED FOR DECADES! BROKEN SUPPLY LINES! CLEANUP ON AISLE EARTH! BARREN SHELVES!

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