Helpless, the old man stood under the sheltering trees with his young grandson. They watched as the forerunners of the killing clouds formed over their heads, knowing there was no escape.
Hundreds of miles away, the volcano belched, roared, and vomited its noxious mix of fire, stone, and ash. The death cloud.
“Don’t worry,” the scientists had said. “It’s been extinct for thousands of years. The noises you hear are just internal rock slides. Sleep well. There is no danger.”
The old man saw the ugly clouds, and he knew. Danger. Death.
They weren’t worried about nuclear warfare any more.