RUNAWAY MOON

by Howard Brian Edgar

  “Never heard of it,” says Rachel. “Since you’re a geologist, I’m assuming it’s a rock mineral and not a food mineral.”

  Ankur looks at Alex and Deuce for help, but they stare back blankly. “Yes, it’s a ‘rock’ mineral.”

  “What about it?” She presses.

  “Nothing really, just that it is pretty rare and Deuce thinks he saw a small piece and came to ask me about it.” Ankur is a horrible liar.

  “Oh.”

  “Listen, we have to find Professor Hayden… about the ringwoodite.” Deuce is equally bad at lying.

  “Must be one hell of a rock.” Rachel senses that they’re holding something back but decides not to call them out on it.

  Sam Hayden sits alone near the open mouth of the cave he shares with Julia staring at Lake Tahoe expectantly. Even without tools or digital instruments, he senses another weather change coming. It’s been nine months since The Crash and communications from the rest of the world have dropped to zero, nothing but static from the shortwave radio. He has put out distress messages continually on every frequency along the shortwave spectrum and heard nothing. He’s considering the increasingly real possibility that their tiny Emerald Bay Colony may be the last vestige of humanity on planet Earth. So he’s relieved to see Ankur, Alex, Deuce, Eric and Donnie approaching.

  “Big news,” says Ankur. “Glad you are sitting down.”

  “We went up to Sugar Pine today and…”

  Sam cuts Donnie off. “How close is it?”

  “Eight miles, Professor,” says Donnie.

  Sam’s head drops. He stares at the ground for a moment, giving the news time to settle in.

  Deuce reminds him, “We agreed to tell the others if this happened.”

  When Sam looks up he seems older and wearier than he was just a moment earlier. “Indeed, we did. We will. I think we should sleep on it one more night, then meet back here tomorrow at Dusk for a final vote. Agreed?”

  “Okay, but I really don’t see why we need to vote. We should tell the others and let them decide what to do,” says Eric.

  “Seriously, Sam, I’d hate to find out about this by having a huge salty wave suddenly crash over me in my sleep.” Deuce envisions a series of monster waves crashing over the ridge above them, people screaming and scrambling aboard their rafts carrying whatever supplies they can grab just as the Pacific Ocean overwhelms Lake Tahoe and Emerald Bay.

  “Please. Just one night so we can think this through,” says Sam. “If we still feel the same tomorrow …”

  “We’ve waited this long. I don’t think one more day will make much difference,” says Alex. “The ocean isn’t rising that fast. There’s still time.” Alex knows they will be less emotional after they sleep on it and calmly consider what’s best for everyone.

  Deuce couldn’t buy himself a good night’s sleep if he had a billion dollars. He cannot erase the image of the Pacific Ocean edging closer and closer with each passing day. In one month, it has moved an astonishing twelve miles further inland. Since they began monitoring, it has swallowed coastal cities, high desert, half a forest, mountains and everything else in its path.

  Deuce wonders how much longer before Lake Tahoe finds itself below sea level? He wonders how high the highest peak in the area is. High enough to keep him and his family safe on dry land? How long? Because no matter how hard he tries, Deuce cannot accept the prospect of living full-time on the water. There simply must be another way.

  Deuce works out the math in his head. If the Pacific advanced almost two hundred miles inland in six months, then it averaged thirty miles per month. Yet, it had advanced only twelve miles in the past month, a dramatic slowdown. Would it continue slowing or stop in time to save Emerald Bay? Would it reach Lake Tahoe in as little as two or three weeks, as Deuce fears, or would it take months advancing at a more insidious, slow-death pace?

  With so many unanswered questions clouding his mind, Deuce cannot sleep. He lies on his bedroll staring at the cave ceiling. Its dark irregular rock facade gives him a sense of safety and security he has not felt in many days. It’s comforting. Exactly what he needs to get his mind off the water.

  After ten minutes of staring at a fixed spot on the ceiling, he closes his eyes. Even as sleep overtakes him, he can still see the image of the rocky ceiling projected onto his closed eyelids. Like he’s watching a video of the very last thing he saw before sleep arrived. The only difference is a glimmering, teardrop-shaped purple radiance that suddenly appears emanating from the rocks smack in the middle of Deuce’s dream video frame.

  Chapter 16

  Emerald Bay

  By the time they gather the next day just before Dusk, Deuce has slept maybe four hours. As he expects, they vote unanimously to tell the others.

  Sam has not slept much, either. It wasn’t the vote that kept him awake most of the night, however. It was the prospect of being separated from Julia. Sam prefers to stay near Emerald Bay and he fears that Julia will probably choose to head inland away from the flood. At thirty-six years old, she still has the potential for so much more life ahead of her. How could he ever fault her for deciding to make a run for it? It’s the thought of losing her, of having to say goodbye under these circumstances and dying alone, that disturbs him most. Julia is all he has left in the world.

  Sam is too tired to speak to the community at the evening campfire, so he asks Ankur to break the news. The young geologist stands and addresses the survivors.

  “Nine months ago, California’s Pacific coastline was more than two hundred miles to the west of us. Then, as we all know, The Crash changed everything. Yesterday, Deuce, Eric and Donnie hiked up to Sugar Pine Point and made a startling discovery. The Pacific Ocean coastline is now less than ten miles away.”

  There’s a collective gasp of horror and shocked expressions.

  “Really? How do I know this isn’t some teenage prank?” asks Marcus.

  “We saw it with our own eyes,” says Eric. “The Pacific Ocean shouldn’t be visible at all from here, not even from eight thousand feet up. Now it covers half the Eldorado National Forest, including the Hellhole Reservoir.”

  “I don’t know what you guys have been smoking, but you cannot be serious,” says Marcus.

  “I saw it, too, Marcus,” says Ankur. “According to some simple calculations and knowing the terrain, the Pacific coastline is only eight miles from us.”

  “Another freaking disaster! What are we supposed to do about it?”

  “Do whatever you want, Marcus. Nobody’s stopping you,” snaps Alex, annoyed by Marcus’ perpetual whining. “The way I see it, you can either stay at Emerald Bay, climb to safety on a higher mountain or migrate further inland to outrun a Pacific flood that may or may not come. You have the same choices as the rest of us.”

  “Anyway, we’ll be hiking up to Sugar Pine every day from now on to monitor the situation,” says Ankur. “You’re welcome to join us and see for yourself, Marcus. Also, there are some taller mountains in this area. Dicks Peak, for example. It’s three miles southwest and almost ten thousand feet above what used to be sea level. Some of you might feel safer up there, or at Monument Peak a few miles southeast of here in the Heavenly ski resort. Monument is even taller than ten thousand feet.”

  “I was feeling safe right here until you dropped this,” Marcus complains.

  “Why is this happening?” Matias asks.

  “Most likely reason is that The Crash caused a crack in the massive Pacific tectonic plate and displaced hundreds of trillions of gallons of Pacific Ocean toward the California coastline,” says Ankur.

  “In other words, we’re all basically fucked,” says Marcus.

  May 10

  Deuce is first to notice the missing kayak. The drag marks and footprints left in the sand stop right at the water’s edge. Rachel emerges from her shelter, sees the empty space where the kayak had been just last night and shrugs at Deuce. Marcus and the only kayak have vanished from Emerald Bay.

  “I
guess he decided on door number two,” says Deuce.

  “Good riddance,” says Rachel. “He was toxic, anyway. Disagreeable and chock full of negative energy.”

  “I thought you liked him,” says Deuce.

  “I made the mistake of judging the book by the cover.”

  Deuce imagines Marcus crossing the lake to the Nevada side in the stolen kayak then walking for miles into the hot, dry Nevada desert, cursing science and socialism the whole way.

  Eric and Donnie join them on the beach.

  “Marcus took the kayak,” blurts Donnie.

  “Tool.” Eric studies the drag marks left in the sand. “If he’s smart, he’ll go up to Monument Peak. It’s not far from Kingsbury. Donnie and I used to hang out up there all the time. If I have to leave here, that’s where I’m going. Anyway, if we’re lucky, he’s not that smart.”

  “If we’re lucky, we won’t see him again,” says Donnie.

  “Seriously, if he’s there when I get there, I’ll throw him off the freaking mountain myself. Call it a mercy killing.”

  “Either way, I hope he’s gone for good,” says Rachel.

  “Then I guess you won’t miss him after all,” says Eric.

  Rachel bursts into laughter. Despite being thirty-one years old and attractive in an athletic, tomboyish way, Rachel had never had a serious love interest. Then she met Marcus. Considering his dark good looks alone, Marcus might have been the one. Their problems began when he opened his mouth.

  Back in her early twenties, Rachel might have tolerated someone like Marcus, a handsome boy toy she could show off to her besties. She had been raised in a strict, conservative German Catholic family, but she had quickly renounced her faith after reading about the priests who molested adolescent girls and boys. How could she follow any religion that allowed such abhorrent behavior yet labeled and punished so many natural, even beneficial human behaviors for being sinful?

  She first discovered Buddhism while living in the commune. Unlike the other world religions she had explored, Buddhism did not try to convert, abuse, punish or debase anyone. Like Rachel herself, the Buddha offered quiet strength, acceptance and respect for all living things.

  Rachel had lived in several communes, where she occasionally cavorted with free-love hipsters, and she had worked as a yoga instructor catering mostly to the rich women of Sausalito, California. On the night of The Crash, she was on her way home from a visit with her sister’s family in Carson City, Nevada, driving alone on Interstate 50, occasionally glancing at the two moons lighting the night sky. She had just entered Cave Rock Tunnel moments after The Crash occurred when the shockwaves collapsed the northern half of the tunnel onto the flatbed of her small pickup truck.

  The enormous weight of the rocks and mortar stopped her truck so suddenly that Rachel was thrust forward violently against her seatbelt. The restraint saved her from being launched through the windshield to her probable death, but it also bruised her collarbone and three ribs on her left side. She crawled from her truck, walked for miles in pain and a complete daze until she found her way to Emerald Bay and ran into Hannibal and Satin.

  Rachel is laughing now.

  “What’s so funny?” Eric thinks she’s laughing at him.

  “The thought of you hurling Marcus off the mountain,” says Rachel.

  Later that night, Deuce sits alone at the mouth of the Jacks’ family cave and ponders their circumstances and options. They can stay and accept whatever fate has in store for them, hoping their makeshift raft will keep them alive if a flood comes. They can just as easily leave the raft behind and move up into the mountains where Deuce could keep his feet on firm ground longer, possibly the rest of his life. Deuce knows what he wants. The question is, will Alex and Jessa feel the same way?

  Though he had braved his all-day raft ride on Lake Tahoe, Deuce knew he could not survive life on the ocean. Without the stability of solid ground beneath him, or nearby, he would simply die of fright and leave his parents alone and childless to grieve his loss. Deuce envisions them traveling by raft across an alien water world stopping only to visit brown rock mountain peaks in search of food, freshwater and, perhaps, survivors. Their lives would stretch on interminably until they died of thirst or starvation or loneliness.

  The more Deuce thinks about it, the more certain he becomes. He will go with Eric and Donnie to Monument Peak. They already know their way around the ten thousand-foot mountain and they know the quickest way to the summit. Together they will find water and food and shelter and make fires and survive. How different is that from Alex and Jessa sending him off to college in another state for four years? They could row to visit him during summer vacations and return to the sea to wander from peak to peak until the next ‘school break’ came around. In the meantime, he would miss them as much as any college student misses parents once he gets a taste of freedom and college life – in other words, not much.

  Jessa would wring her worried hands for him and wish she could call him three times a day to remind him to do his laundry and eat good food and stay away from girls until he graduated, settled into a good job and had a good income. Alex would wish he could remind Deuce how some women his age can be dream-killers and how Deuce should find his dream before he finds a woman to share it with. Deuce knew they would say those things because they had already practiced the speeches on him since he was twelve years old. It was great advice the first time. Not so much the fourth, fifth and sixth times.

  Deuce stares up at the clear night sky. On nights such as this, which occur less and less frequently of late, the shooting stars seem more numerous, brighter and more colorful than Deuce remembers them. Most nights are too overcast to give the sky a second thought.

  Tonight is different. Tonight Deuce sits alone and studies the Milky Way, wondering where all the shooting stars are coming from, realizing that they were probably out there all along, lost in the bright light of the moon.

  Samson, fully recovered from his gunshot wound, but still walking with a noticeable limp, comes out of the cave and plops down on the ground beside Deuce with a soft whimper.

  “Hey, boy, glad you’re feeling better.” Deuce runs his hand over the dog’s head and scratches behind his ears as he looks around at the landscape. “So this is Life two point zero, Samson. Not exactly what I imagined.”

  What Deuce imagined was a life dominated by clean technology where robots performed most of the labor. He imagined self-driving automobiles that used unlimited solar power, computer-programmed traffic flow to eliminate all bottlenecks and accidents. He imagined people designing their own energy-efficient homes on computers then fabricating them on 3D printers using cheap recycled waste materials such as plastic and aluminum. In Deuce’s world, virtual reality encompassed all forms of entertainment, everything from world travel to gaming to sexual fantasy. In Deuce’s world, people would work four hours or less each day, if they worked at all. Real brick and mortar schools and libraries would disappear, replaced by distance learning at virtual schools, where students could learn at their own pace according to their own schedules. In this perfect world, Deuce would spend his time as he pleased, sharing more with friends and family or pursuing his personal interests in astronomy, game design and bioengineering. The new tech-world Deuce envisioned would be free of clocks and silly rules.

  The Crash, unfortunately, had changed everything. Life 2.0 was utterly devoid of technology. Their cellphones became useless bricks of aluminum, plastic and electronic circuitry. Those with batteries were dead. Even the newer solar-powered models were useless without sunlight or content to engage them.

  Deuce stares into the darkness, focused on the reflection of the stars against the surface of Lake Tahoe, a giant liquid mirror. Each ripple on the lake surface sets the reflected stars rolling and vibrating like little disturbances in the fabric of the universe itself. He can almost feel himself drifting freely through the vastness of space past galaxies, black holes, quasars and supernova, past distant suns thousands
of times larger than Earth’s, gas giants bigger than Jupiter and binary systems where two suns in close enough proximity become locked in each other’s gravitational field.

  Deuce lets his mind drift freely again, this time back to the way things were before The Crash, during Life 1.0, when people were so addicted to technology and so hypnotized by the glare and colorful icons of their smartphones and tablets that they lost sight of each other. They stopped gazing at the natural world around them, stopped smelling the roses and seemingly forgot practically everything that really mattered in life. Maybe Alex was right. If we didn’t see a flower, a tree, an animal or a sunset in the pixels of an LED screen, then we didn’t see it at all.

  When the end came, Life 1.0 was far less than most humans had hoped for. The wealthy, powerful elite class had kept most of us preoccupied and hypnotized with shiny new toys, ‘miracle’ gadgets and other forms of entertainment while they fleeced us out of our money, our livelihoods, our self-respect and our quality of life. Greed had destroyed the once-thriving American middle class and fueled massive global poverty. The ruling elite class had the power and wealth to end world hunger, but they had shamelessly allowed millions of infants and children to die of starvation, malnutrition and thirst every year. Worldwide, more than twenty thousand innocent children perished every day, enough to fill more than thirty American elementary schools. One American child out of every five had lived in poverty and gone to bed hungry at night along with more than one billion children and adults worldwide.

  As the elite class further expanded, deepening its wealth and power base, the world had become less humane and more hostile not only to Homo sapiens but to all forms of life on Earth. Corporate greed, ignorance and bad politics had destroyed most of the forests and polluted the oceans for profit. We had tossed eight million metric tons of plastic into the oceans annually for thirty years leading up to The Crash. The period had first become known in the science community as the Holocene epoch mass extinction, which soon came to be called the Anthropocene epoch. Nearly three-quarters of animal, plant and sea life on Earth had been obliterated, not by some natural calamity like those that led to the five previous mass extinctions, but by the arrogance and greed of our own species, Homo sapiens. The evidence was solid, indisputable. We were the most destructive species that ever lived on planet Earth. We had already proven ourselves far more destructive than the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs.