This was my first time visiting the chosen island. We had not visited while Diana was alive. It was my second night and I stealthily crept through the jungle. Even the nights were hot here. The area was guarded to keep looters from the evacuated villages and thrill seekers out of the red zone. The earthquakes had been intensifying. A major eruption was likely in a day or two.
I paused at the jagged rocks where the slopes began. I took a drink, adjusted my pack and then began my ascent to the crater rim. By the time I reached the top, the sky was getting light. The air was unpleasant. I opened my pack and lifted out the urn. I gripped it tightly then relaxed. Chose my spot. With a few rapid steps and an over-arm throw, it flew deep into the rumbling crater below.
“Goodbye my love.”
Wasting no time, I turned and headed down the slope.
By late afternoon, I was ordering a drink on a packed boat heading to the neighbouring island. I ached from the climb and had not slept. A thunderous sound ended all conversation and all eyes turned to the volcano.
The ash cloud reached to the heavens.