“Is that your new euphemism?” Satin slips her hands lower. “The fishes feel quite awake already.”
“Not a euphemism, I’m serious. I don’t want to wake the fishes because some of them bite.” Hannibal puts his arms around her and pulls her close. He puts his head next to hers, closes his eyes and holds her perfectly still for a long time.
When Hannibal opens his eyes again, he notices something glowing, flickering red, orange and yellow in the distance. Fire! There is a fire burning far up the lake in an area they have not yet explored during their day trips. It looks like a campfire burning brightly on the western side, their side of Lake Tahoe.
“Survivors!”
Satin jerks her head around, sees the distant fire, starts pulling Hannibal toward the beach. “Holy shit, Hannibal, let’s go meet them.”
“You really think that’s a good idea, barging in on strangers at night? We don’t want to scare the shit out of them. We can hike up at daybreak.”
“You think they saw our campfire?”
“I doubt it, unless they’re aliens with X-ray vision. We’re kind of hidden in the cove. If we hadn’t come out here, we wouldn’t have seen their fire, either.” Hannibal heads for dry land.
“Don’t leave. We were just getting warmed up.”
“I know but this could be huge. We have to tell the others.”
Satin grabs him and presses herself against him suggestively. “What’s the rush? We can tell them in the morning.”
“No, we have to tell them tonight so we can leave in the morning.”
Satin makes her disappointed teenage girl face. “Aww.”
“I didn’t say we have to tell them right now.” Hannibal kisses her and they fall into a tight clinch right there on the beach under the starlight.
Part Two – The Jakes
Chapter 8
Sugar Pine Point, December 1
Eric and Donnie gaze out over the early morning landscape and study the horizon just as they have done every morning since their arrival at Sugar Pine Point, in the mountains just to the west of Lake Tahoe. Donnie checks the advancing shoreline straight away. “I don’t know, does it look like it’s getting any closer?”
Eric stares out at the solid blue-green line that forms the new horizon and shakes his head. “It’s hard to tell. It looks the same as yesterday.”
“Okay, this is too important to be guessing. We need to set up a reference line so we can measure it more objectively.”
“Great idea, dude, but we’re fresh out of rulers.”
Donnie thinks about it for a moment, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out his dead cellphone. He holds it up in landscape mode at arms length and closes one eye. “This is about six inches long and straight as a ruler.” He scans the big rocks nearby. “We just need to set it up on a flat, level spot.”
They study the largest rocks closest to their position looking for just the right place to set up their reference line. After twenty minutes of searching and close scrutiny, Eric finds a candidate. “Check this out.”
Donnie joins him and they both study a small, flat section on top of a rock that’s about five feet high and has a shallow grooved channel running across it. Donnie sets the cellphone into the channel and leans in close.
“I think this’ll work. We just need some small rocks to prop it up, hold it in place.”
They use several smaller rocks to prop the cellphone on its side then take turns peering over the top edge of the phone to see how well it lines up with the horizon. Donnie makes a small adjustment to the angle of the phone.
“Now if we lean it so the top edge lines up with the waterline, we’ll be able to see if the ocean’s really getting closer, right?”
“We can use that mountain for a second reference line.” Eric points to a shorter peak off in the distance to their immediate left.
“That’ll work,” Donnie adjusts the cellphone so its top edge is even with the base of the reference mountain. Then he positions the smaller stones to hold their makeshift straightedge in place.
Again, they take turns peering over the cellphone, looking like land surveyors without any real surveying equipment.
“Crude, but it works,” says Eric, making a slight adjustment to the phone’s position. “Check it out now.”
Donnie looks it over one last time, grins and abruptly disappears into the lean-to. Seconds later, he’s back out holding the nearly empty water jug, a converted one-gallon milk container they found during their trip from Kingsbury.
“Our drinking water is running low. You up for a hike to the lake?”
“Do we have a choice?”
“Not really,” Donnie dangles the jug in Eric’s face. “We barely have enough to get us through the day.”
They pick their way down the backside of the mountain, a broken trail that leads to Lake Tahoe. Just as they reach the footpath to the lake, there’s a sudden commotion near a huge boulder right behind them. Eric and Donnie spin around just in time to see a dark-haired man leaping toward them with his arms wide open and a deranged look in his eyes. Before Eric and Donnie can block him, the crazed stranger collapses onto them. Instead of trying to hurt them, he throws his arms around them and hugs them like long lost brothers.
“Thank God! Thank God. It’s not just me. I’m not the only one!”
Donnie and Eric are frozen statues at first. Not knowing what else to do, they slowly, reluctantly hug the stranger back as he weeps against them.
“It’s okay, man. It’s okay. You surprised the crap out of us.” Eric pats the man’s back to calm him. Instead, it gets him sobbing. Donnie and Eric back away just far enough to study him. The dark, handsome, thirty-something stranger opens his red eyes and studies them, too. Making eye contact calms him just enough to speak.
“Sorry, guys. I’m Marcus.” He extends his hand to Eric.
“I’m Eric and this is Donnie, and we thought we were the only ones left until you popped up.”
“Where’d you come from?” asks Donnie.
Marcus points to the boulder where he came from.
“He means like what town did you come from.”
“Oh, Stateline. I worked at Harrah’s Casino.” Marcus is a little taller than Eric and Donnie. He wears his wavy jet-black hair in a ponytail and looks more like a male model than a guy who, until recently, worked at a Nevada casino.
“What kind of work?”
“I was a blackjack dealer and occasional DJ. They even paid me to entertain the wealthy female guests, if you know what I mean.”
Eric and Donnie can only imagine. They have spent their lives playing sports and going to school and hanging out together as friends. They have had little time for girls.
“So how did you survive?”
“I wish I knew,” says Marcus. “All I know is I blacked out and woke up surrounded by dead bodies, Harrah’s was demolished. So I grabbed all the food I could carry and wandered around South Lake Tahoe looking for other survivors. I hate being alone. Anyway, I was really hoping to find a hot chick instead of you high-school Harries. How’s that for shit luck?”
“We’re from Kingsbury. We lost our families,” Donnie volunteers.
“Sorry to hear it. But, hey, you found me and we were practically neighbors. At least it’s something.”
“We’re making a water run.” Donnie holds up the near-empty jug.
“Mind if I tag along?”
Donnie points the way and the three of them head toward the lake.
“Most of the food was snacks from broken vending machines. What are you guys doing for protein?”
“Nuts, beetles and crickets mostly.” Eric winks at Donnie.
“Shit. We need to learn how to fish,” says Marcus grimacing.
Emerald Bay
Soon after daylight, Hannibal and Satin grab a few supplies, a peace offering for their mysterious new neighbors, and set out heading north along the lake’s edge. A thick cloud cover has reappeared overnight and the sk
y is heavily overcast. They wear backpacks and carry the spears Hannibal made from spruce branches. They will need to protect themselves in case they come upon hostile wildlife. There is still a slim chance they might cross paths with a hungry bear or a starving mountain lion near the lake, though none of the survivors have spotted a single large animal since The Crash. Any animals lucky enough to survive will need water, too. They won’t stray far from the lake.
By the time they stumble across Eric, Donnie and Marcus filling the water jug at the lake, Hannibal and Satin have hiked more than an hour. Marcus’s attention is immediately, magnetically, lustfully drawn to Satin. His spontaneous wolf whistle is muffled but unmistakable.
“Well, look at that. This is turning into a banner day,” says Marcus.
“Hello!” Hannibal calls out.
“Hello!” Marcus calls back. He resists the sudden urge to make a run at Satin and throw a full-body bear hug around her. Unfortunately, she looks attached. Not that it ever stopped him before. As a trust-fund baby, he was used to getting his way and had enjoyed more than his share of attractive, married and widowed women at Harrah’s. Though none has been quite as drop-dead sexy as Satin.
“We saw your campfire last night.” Assuming it was their campfire, Hannibal is greeted by three puzzled expressions staring back at him. He spots Marcus ogling Satin and makes a preemptive strike. “I’m Hannibal, and this is my fiancée. We’re living down south at Emerald Bay. There are nine of us.”
“That’s all really cool, but we weren’t near the lake last night,” says Eric.
“We didn’t have a campfire, either,” says Donnie.
“Ditto,” says Marcus.
“Must have been someone else, then,” says Hannibal.
“I’m Marcus, and these two are Donnie and Eric. We just met.”
“So none of you had a campfire going last night?”
They shake their heads in unison.
“Shit, Hannibal, that means there are more people up here.” As stunningly beautiful as Satin is, she quickly becomes an acquired taste after she opens her mouth. Her distinctly nasal Brooklyn, New York accent and potty mouth are a lethal combination.
Marcus suddenly finds her less attractive. How could any man listen to that?
“You should come join our community at Emerald Bay,” says Hannibal. “We’ll take you there.”
“I don’t know.” Donnie looks to Eric for approval. “We already have a place up at Sugar Pine Point.”
“Geez, dude, we’ve spent like two months hoping to find more survivors. Here they are. We can trek back up the mountain later.”
Hannibal and Satin lead the way as they head along the lake toward Emerald Bay. Marcus is only too happy to walk directly behind Satin for an hour, clearly enjoying the singularly spectacular rear view of her dark gray curve-hugging nanotech suit.
It is past midday by the time they return to Emerald Bay. Everyone is busy gathering food, plants and nuts, fishing or working on their shelters. Rachel is the first to look up and notice Hannibal and Satin’s arrival with three male newcomers. She immediately stops work on her new window addition and approaches them.
“Well, hello.” She notices Marcus right away. “I’m Rachel.” She extends her hand and Marcus takes it, holding on a bit longer than necessary or appropriate for a first-time greeting. Rachel doesn’t seem to mind. Only Ankur seems to mind as he shoots Marcus his smelliest stink-eye.
Rachel is captivated by his dark good looks, though something about Marcus seem familiar to her. She wags a finger at him. “I’ve seen you before. I just don’t remember where, exactly.”
“Uh, I worked at Harrah’s in Stateline. Have you been there?” Marcus thinks Rachel looks familiar, too.
“That’s it, I did private yoga classes there,” says Rachel. “You were…”
“… Dealing blackjack. You walked through the casino.”
“You noticed.”
“It was hard not to.”
Everyone else, including the children, gathers to meet Marcus, Donnie and Eric, the three newest survivors. They bring renewed hope and a sense of joyfulness to the community. After the introductions, they share a spirited communal lunch, an impromptu picnic by the lake.
Eric and Donnie gravitate toward Ankur, the only male who is close enough to them in age to relate. They tell him how they survived The Crash by sleeping in a cave then found their homes collapsed, their families wiped out.
“We have so much in common. A cave saved my life, and my family was killed, too,” says Ankur. “Sadly, we cannot change what has passed. We can only look to the future, starting today.”
“True that,” says Eric, “even if the past feels like a gaping wound.”
“Perhaps we’ll make this life better than the one we left,” says Ankur.
“You mean the one that left us.” Eric corrects him.
“What’s the difference?” says Donnie. “We went from the Information Age to the Stone Age overnight. How can we possibly make this better?”
“Perhaps by making it simpler,” says Ankur philosophically. “After all, we did make quite a mess of things before The Crash.”
Before The Crash, humans had polluted the air, the oceans and much of the freshwater supply. Millions were dying of hunger, respiratory disease and thirst every day around the world, a fact that was either argued or ignored by too many Americans.
“Yeah, people complicated everything,” says Eric.
Eric and Donnie decide to remain at Emerald Bay for a few days before returning to Sugar Pine Point. They like the camaraderie and there is plenty of food and water to go around. Besides, with a dozen individuals sharing responsibilities, Eric and Donnie don’t have to do everything for themselves anymore.
December 2
Determined to find the source of that distant campfire from two nights ago, Hannibal and Satin set out again at daybreak. They hike past Sugar Pine Point and make it almost to Tahoma before they discover the telltale signs of human activity. Besides the burnt and charred wood remains of the campfire, they find a stack of unused kindling and freshly cut firewood along with several fish heads discarded from a previous meal. Hannibal pokes around the ashes looking for clues with the point of his spear.
“Hello!” Hannibal calls out.
“Maybe they’re gone,” says Satin.
“I don’t think so. They left fresh unused firewood and kindling.”
“Hey! Anyone!” Satin calls out again.
They scan the terrain around them. There are steep hills flecked with rocks and boulders, much fallen timber and sparse vegetation. Hannibal notices a large cave mouth a couple of hundred feet uphill and fixes his gaze on it.
“There,” he says, “I bet they live up there.”
Satin sees it, too. “We should go pay a visit.”
Before Hannibal can answer, there’s a sudden commotion in the bushes behind them. A tall, gaunt, bearded man steps out into the open holding an assault rifle with a thirty-round banana clip.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” says the man. “Drop them spears and don’t move.”
He is dirty, disheveled, missing teeth and dressed in tattered old clothes. He looks like someone who has lived his entire life in the mountains away from the revealing lights and mirrors of human society and civilization. He trains his M-16 on Hannibal, but his eyes are firmly fixed on Satin.
Hannibal and Satin set their spears down at their own feet, hold out their peace offering and force their friendliest smiles.
“Please, sir,” says Hannibal, “we’re not looking for trouble. We saw your fire a couple of nights ago and brought you some things. Thought you should know there are more survivors down south.”
The bearded man eyes him steadily then lowers his M-16. “Set it down.”
Hannibal sets the care package down near the wood stack. “You live up here?”
“Who wants to know?” asks the beard.
Hannibal extends his hand, “Hannibal Morrone. T
his is my girl, Satin.”
The man ignores Hannibal’s extended hand, eyes Satin up and down like he hasn’t seen a woman in years, like she’s not a woman at all but simply fresh meat. Hannibal can’t help but notice him leering.
“And you are…?”
“Jake,” says the man. “Why are you here?”
“We’re a small group of survivors living a couple miles south. We’ve been searching for others. We thought you might want to join us,” says Hannibal.
“We ain’t interested in joining anything,” says Jake. “Boys?”
Suddenly, Jake’s three sons arise like ghostly apparitions from the same bushes Jake came from. All three are tall like Jake. The oldest looks twenty, the youngest maybe fifteen. Like Jake, they are armed and menacing.
The oldest holds a compound bow. The middle son nonchalantly passes a massive, serrated-edge hunting knife back and forth from hand to hand while the youngest, the one with the lazy eye, toys with a crude homemade slingshot.
Hannibal’s first thought is that Jake and his sons are more than simply rugged backwoods mountain folk. They look more like the results of too much inbreeding. They are Neanderthals, human jackals, wildlings.
“These are my sons, Jake One, Two and Three.”
“I was just telling your dad…” Hannibal doesn’t get to finish.
“We’re not deaf. We heard you. We’re not interested.” Jake One and his brothers study Satin the same way Jake did, like she might as well be standing completely naked before them.
“I thought fellow survivors might want to help each other,” says Hannibal.
“Does it look like we need help?” Jake is clearly annoyed.
“Nah, it looks like you’ve got everything under control.” Hannibal forces a half-smile and backs away.
“Sorry about the intrusion.” Satin fidgets uncomfortably and shrinks from the hot intensity of their leers. “Come on, Hannibal.” She grabs his arm and pulls him back a few more steps. “You men have a wonderful day.” She turns and walks briskly away, Hannibal falling into lockstep right behind her, intentionally blocking their sight line to Satin. Jake One turns on his father.
RUNAWAY MOON Page 13
