RUNAWAY MOON

by Howard Brian Edgar

  “Me and Eric and Donnie asked him about it, and, so far, he’s been right. Hotter? Check. Wetter? Check. Maybe the rain will help us grow vegetables. Maybe everything will get all jungle-y on us and we can live like gorillas in the mist.”

  “Sounds like heaven,” says Alex sarcastically. He hugs Deuce tightly. “Let’s go for the vegetables and skip the gorillas, okay?”

  “I like rain,” says Deuce. “The air smells better.” He reaches out, lets the rain land with enough force to make tiny splashes on the palm of his hand. He closes his eyes, focuses on the physical sensation of being struck first by raindrops, then by their tiny droplets splashing into widening circles. It has been seven years, practically half of his lifetime, since Deuce last felt rain. Southern California’s most recent drought began in 2020 and continued unabated right until The Crash. California’s droughts were becoming more commonplace, with five or six dry years followed by a year or two of normal precipitation and flooding.

  “I like rain, too” says Alex. “The last time we saw this much, you were barely nine years old, a whole lot cuter, too.”

  “I’m sixteen, Dad. I don’t want to be cute anymore.” Deuce pushes his shoulder-length black hair away from his face. “Besides there’s only one girl here even close to my age who might think I’m cute.”

  “Mateo’s cousin, Sofia.”

  “Yeah, her.”

  “She seems like a nice girl,” says Alex.

  “Not my type,” says Deuce. “Not to mention, she’s a mere child of twelve.”

  “I didn’t know you had a type,” laughs Alex. “You might feel differently in five or six years.”

  “Honestly, Dad, I don’t think we have five or six years.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Look, there’s something important I need to tell you, Dad.” Deuce has kept his big bad secret from Alex long enough. “You know those hikes I take with Eric and Donnie up to Sugar Pine?”

  “Yeah, it’s where they lived before Emerald Bay.”

  “We saw something up there you’re not going to believe.”

  “What, you found the abominable snowman?”

  “Think bigger, Dad, much, much, much bigger,” says Deuce.

  “Why don’t you just spit it out?”

  “We saw the Pacific Ocean.” Deuce studies the change in Alex’s expression as this new revelation sinks in.

  “Come on, Deuce, that’s two hundred twenty miles away.”

  “Used to be. Now it’s twenty miles away, if we’re lucky.”

  “What?” Alex waits for the slightest glimmer of a smile, any sign that Deuce is pranking him, but Deuce’s expression remains unchanged. “Does Sam know about this?”

  “He was afraid of scaring everyone so he told us to keep it to ourselves.”

  “Who else knows?”

  “Just me, Sam, Eric and Donnie.”

  “Did Sam say how much the ocean has risen?”

  “His best guess is about three thousand feet.”

  April 1

  For Diego and Matias, returning to a sense of normalcy means diving again. Their plan is to start first in Emerald Bay then venture out into Lake Tahoe where the deepest part of the lake is over 1,600 feet, and where the likelihood of finding underwater caves along the rock walls is vastly greater. Though they are mixed-gas divers, they will rarely venture deeper than two hundred feet. Their plan includes coming back from each dive with several speared trout, enough to feed their families for a week at a time.

  Alex warns them before their first dive. “At least five divers have disappeared in this lake.”

  “Is that right?” Diego looks utterly unconcerned.

  “They found the last one up near Rubicon Point after he went missing for seventeen years. He was still in his wetsuit with full scuba gear, lying on an underwater shelf two hundred sixty-five feet deep when they found him. The cold water preserved him for seventeen years!”

  “Really,” says Matias, pretending to be interested.

  “You’re not worried?” Alex is surprised at their nonchalance.

  “We’ve been diving since we’re five years old. We’ve been down with fifty-foot whale sharks in the Sea of Cortez, which is practically the Pacific Ocean. Trout do not scare us.” Matias straps on his tank, slips his mask over the top of his head and smiles confidently. “This is like a kiddie pool.”

  “It’s forty degrees down there on a good day,” warns Alex. “You’ll be lucky to last fifteen minutes.”

  “You worry too much about survival, you forget how to live.” Diego laughs in his face. He pumps his spear gun in the air a few times and backs into the water with Matias, who grins as if he knows some secret he won’t share. Alex watches them wade out into the bay until they submerge themselves and all that’s left are the fading air bubbles rising from their regulators.

  Alex sits on the nearest rock and stares out over the blue water. He wonders if Diego is right. Am I too worried about survival to enjoy life? If the Guerrero brothers are not concerned, why should I be concerned? He quickly pushes his worry aside. The bigger concern is three thousand feet of sea level rise and he needs to talk to Sam Hayden about that. He was on his way to see Sam before the Guerrero brothers sidetracked him with their crazy idea about diving in Lake Tahoe. Now he feels obligated to wait for their safe return.

  Alex sits for what seems like an hour or more, deep in thought. The way he sees it, the rest of the survivors need to know about the rising Pacific. They deserve the opportunity to decide whether they should stay and tough it out in the tallest nearby mountains or flee inland from the advancing ocean. If they chose to flee, they would have to travel fifty miles on foot and cross two mountain ranges before they reached Walker Lake in Nevada. The journey might take them a week or more over rough terrain. Walker Lake is situated just east of Mount Grant. With an elevation of over eleven thousand feet, it is nearly a mile higher than Lake Tahoe. To Alex, that might be survival insurance, if only they had enough time to make the trek on foot carrying their necessities on their backs.

  He had promised himself and Deuce that he would not tell the others until he talked it over with Sam. Maybe Sam knew more than he’d shared with the boys. Maybe he could explain it in more detail than Deuce’s cryptic teenage shorthand.

  Alex looks up, glances at the bay and sees bubbles hitting the surface announcing the divers’ return. Moments later, Matias and Diego emerge carrying five large trout and a bloody spear gun.

  “You were right about the cold, amigo,” says Matias.

  “You were wrong about us lasting fifteen minutes,” says Diego.

  “I’m glad you made it back,” says Alex. “I’d love to hear all about it but I really need to find Sam Hayden.” He turns abruptly and takes off running toward Emerald Bay Colony, leaves them holding their catch, wondering what’s so important.

  Alex finds Sam sitting on his favorite log staring into the bay as light rain begins falling again. His homemade fishing rod lays idle on the ground at his side.

  “I was wondering how long it would take you to find me.” Sam doesn’t even glance in Alex’s direction. He just stares hypnotically at the calm blue water the way a man does when he’s got a lot on his mind.

  “Deuce told me about the Pacific,” says Alex. “Maybe you can tell me what’s really going on.”

  “My theory is that The Crash and resulting rock storm created shockwaves that leveled these western states may have also cracked the Pacific plate. You know about tectonic plates, Alex?”

  “Enough to be dangerous.”

  “Well, the Pacific plate, the largest on Earth, covers most of the ocean. A big enough crack could theoretically displace an enormous amount of seawater,” says Sam.

  “So why haven’t you told everyone?”

  Sam turns and stares at Alex. “Because there’s a good chance the rise has stopped and we’re not in danger. Haven’t we been through enough already, The Crash, the apocalypse, the Jakes, the weather? Do
we really need something even worse to be afraid of?”

  “What if it hasn’t stopped and we are all in imminent danger? They deserve to know so they can decide for themselves whether to stay here or head inland.”

  “Look, we’ve been monitoring it for weeks and it hasn’t changed. That’s why I haven’t even told Julia.”

  “What about Ankur? He’s a geologist.”

  “He is,” says Sam and turns back to stare at the bay again.

  “Shouldn’t we tell him?” asks Alex. “If we’re talking about tectonic plates, then we need a geologist’s opinion, don’t we?”

  Sam ponders that for a moment. “You’re right, but I still think we should keep it to ourselves unless the situation worsens.”

  “You know, I never thought I would miss the simple joy of pencil and paper,” says Ankur as he watches the last of Meg’s sandy math equations wash away in the mud.

  The almost constant rain dampens their communal gatherings and school sessions. The children huddle together as they hold classes in Meg’s shelter. When the rain stops, even for brief periods, the adult survivors emerge from their shelters and fortify their footpaths using fallen tree branches for stability during their frequent treks between shelters, supplies and the bay.

  With no computers, TVs, game consoles or books to occupy them, the children grow restless and easily bored. After school, they build elaborate mud castles to break the monotony. Then they sit by and watch as the steady rain slowly washes them away, only to rebuild them again when the rain stops.

  Ankur, who has never been around children, marvels at their grim determination and the ways they amuse themselves. He is so engrossed watching them that a sudden tap on his shoulder from Alex startles him.

  “We need to talk.” Alex leads Ankur far away from the children. “We have a situation.”

  “You are sounding very ominous, Alex.”

  “It’s an ominous situation. Sam thinks the Pacific plate may have cracked from the bombardment.

  April 3

  Alex, Deuce and Ankur gaze out at the landscape from the overlook at Sugar Pine Point. When Alex and Ankur see the encroaching Pacific Ocean for the first time, their jaws drop. Deuce immediately checks the sea level on Sam’s makeshift surveying tool.

  “Same as the last time we checked,” says Deuce, relieved.

  Ankur turns away from the view and studies Sam’s contraption up close.

  “We set an arbitrary boundary line then…” begins Deuce.

  “I know how it works,” says Ankur.

  “So, what do you think?” Alex presses him.

  Ankur shakes his head. “Have you ever heard of ringwoodite?”

  “Ringwoodite?” Alex and Deuce both shrug.

  “It’s a mineral that contains water. Massive stores are buried over four hundred miles beneath the Earth’s crust. If the Pacific plate has indeed cracked, then heat from exposed magma chambers may have reached the ringwoodite.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning the mineral may be melting, releasing its stored water.”

  “Exactly how much water are we talking about?” Deuce also wonders whether the water will be salt or fresh or some weird combination that will quench their thirst and make them sick at the same time.

  “Enough to fill Earth’s oceans three times over,” says Ankur.

  Three times! Deuce tries imagining Earth with triple the water, feels his worst fear rising, alarms going off in his head. It’s a nightmare turning real. Then he remembers Sam’s lesson. Intelligence trumps emotion. Don’t feel. Think!

  Deuce thinks. What’s the worst thing that can happen? What’s the best way to deal with it? He imagines life in a water world, where only the highest mountain peaks poke through one monstrously deep ocean, or there’s no land at all.

  “How is that even possible?”

  “Earth would become a water world,” says Ankur. “One giant ocean twenty miles deep, a world filled with mutant marine life.”

  “Great, no more land, no more land-based carbon life forms unless...” Deuce stares off at the masses of fallen trees strewn about the landscape.

  “Unless what?” asks Ankur.

  “Unless this wood will float.”

  Ankur looks around. “Mostly pines and firs. Should float splendidly. Why?”

  “We can build rafts,” says Deuce, though he doesn’t know the first thing about raft building, other than using wood that floats.

  “Rafts are an awesome idea. Time to talk some sense into Dr. Hayden,” says Alex. “We can’t hide this any longer. People need time to plan and prepare.”

  To Alex’s way of thinking, the survivors can stay put and hope for the best or spend their days on the run, heading further and further inland until there are no freshwater lakes or streams for hundreds of miles. There’s the very real prospect of dying from thirst.

  Alex knows exactly what happens when someone dies of thirst. Dehydration becomes severe. Cells throughout the body shrink as water moves out of them into the bloodstream to keep vital organs alive. Vomiting, muscle spasms and seizures follow. Brain cells shrink, leading to confusion, hysteria then coma. As the shrinking brain takes up less room, blood vessels connecting it to the inside of the skull rupture and tear away. Without water, blood volume declines and organ failure follows. When the kidneys fail, blood volume falls and waste cannot be eliminated. Your body is racked with pain as each organ and system stops functioning.

  It’s a miserable way to die.

  Sam Hayden is the oldest survivor by twenty-five years and he knows his old legs won’t carry him far if he’s forced to leave Emerald Bay and hike deep into Nevada in search of freshwater and higher ground. He would become a burden to Julia and the others, slowing them down. He weighs the possibility of separating from Julia. Would she even consider leaving him behind?

  “I think we should tell everyone,” says Alex.

  “How about this? We’ll monitor the level closely. If it makes another move in our direction, we’ll tell everyone. However, if nothing changes, no one’s the wiser. Why set off an unnecessary panic?”

  “I don’t think they will panic,” says Ankur. “We’ve already survived The Crash, near extinction and the four Jakes.”

  “We can learn how to build boats just like the book Kon-Tiki. That dude crossed the Pacific in a homemade raft made of balsa wood. Why couldn’t we do that?” For Deuce, the answer seems ridiculously obvious.

  “That dude’s name was Thor Heyerdahl. He built his raft big enough to hold six people.” Sam smiles, “Good thinking, Deuce.”

  “We can say we’re building rafts to explore the lake.”

  “Of course, make it fun, why didn’t I think of that?”

  “We need intelligence to solve this, Professor, not emotion,” mimics Deuce. “Just say no to fear and panic. Say yes to fun and adventure.”

  It’s settled. They will continue withholding the threat of sea level rise and convince the others that recreational rafting on Lake Tahoe is the best thing since virtual reality and nanotech clothing.

  That is, unless the Pacific rises again.

  April 10

  When the rain finally stops, the survivors find enough protected dry kindling and wood to build their first communal campfire in weeks. Sam plays official greeter until everyone is seated around the fire. The women have placed woven baskets of finger food strategically and the group’s mood is quietly upbeat. Sam addresses the group.

  “We haven’t done this in a while. It feels good. Who wants to begin?”

  Marcus raises his hand, though it looks more like a Nazi salute. “It’s been months since we talked about government and, based on what I see, we still have zero government.”

  “There are twenty-two of us. How much government do we really need?” Sam is surprised by the question.

  “I think zero is just the right number,” says Donnie.

  “Who agrees with Donnie?” asks Sam. Everyone raises hands, including Sam, exc
ept Marcus. “Who agrees with Marcus?” Marcus repeats the Nazi salute.

  “That settles it, no government necessary. Since I have everyone’s attention, Deuce has a stellar idea for a community project. Deuce?”

  Deuce clears his throat three times before uttering a word. He hates being the center of attention, even among people he knows. It’s time to man up.

  “I…uh…thought of something we could all do together that would be fun. Sam and my dad think it’s a good idea, too. So instead of hiking around Lake Tahoe, how would you like to sail it? If we have some kind of boat we can travel the whole lake in a couple of hours.”

  “Brilliant, now all we need is a boat yard,” says Marcus.

  “Dude! Look around. We’re living in a boat yard. There’s enough wood here to build an armada,” says Deuce.

  “The boy’s right,” says Sam. “We can sail for fun and we can sail for new resources and supplies. It’s perfect.”

  “I love it,” adds Rachel. “When I was little, I used to build miniature rafts and sail them in the pond behind our house. We can use the same basic designs, just make them bigger.”

  “So, who wants to build rafts?” Deuce scans their faces.

  “I’m in,” says Donnie.

  “Me, too,” says Eric. Like Donnie, he knows the real reason behind this. It’s not really about fun or recreation for Deuce. It’s about survival.

  “Me, three,” says Mateo.

  “Our family loves the water. Diego and I will help, too,” says Matias.

  “Make mine a yacht, please,” says Satin.

  “Sure,” says Hannibal, “as long as you don’t mind your yacht looking like a wooden raft.”

  Deuce’s anxiety quickly fades into laughter.

  April 11

  Another day without rain as Deuce joins an enthusiastic group of volunteers on the beach at Emerald Bay Colony. He is relieved that no one has questioned his motives. Why wouldn’t they go for faster travel to North Lake Tahoe for fun, recreation and adventure? As long as Donnie and Eric keep their secret, it’s the perfect ruse. It’s brilliant. Intelligence trumps emotion again.