by ML Banner
12.
More Prepping
4:30 A.M.
Rocky Point, Mexico
Upon returning from his ranch, Max unloaded Miguel and a few of their supplies at Miguel and Maria’s home in town. Then Max headed back to his own beach home. Max never noticed the late model Chevy truck that had been tailing them the whole way down. He had other concerns.
About four hours before reaching Rocky Point, Max noticed a tweet on his phone. It must have downloaded when he had WIFI service at his ranch house, since he didn’t subscribe to Internet data on his phone. The tweet was from @1859Storm, one of the Tweeters that he followed whose avocation for following CME data was better than any solar physicists, except perhaps, Dr. Reid at CMERI. This one Tweet was one of his many daily Tweets reporting each day’s number of CME’s. It read, #CME summary: 15 coronal mass ejections in past 24 hours. (For updates visit: http://t.co/KlepA5unnr).
“Wow, fifteen in one day,” he had said out loud, but not loud enough to wake Miguel who was sleeping off the previous day’s work in the front seat. The sun normally emits anywhere from one to four CMEs during solar maximums and one every other day during solar minimums. They were definitely in a solar maximum, so multiple CMEs were expected each day. However, this number was completely unprecedented.
Max couldn’t open the picture because of his lack of Internet connection now. He considered this and all the other bulletins, emails, & Tweets he had received the past couple of days as he turned onto Avenita Mar De Cortez.
He was no scientist, but he knew all the information was pointing to one thing. He was out of time. They all were.
He pulled into his other house across the street from his beach house, what he calls – to himself - his beach warehouse. It was on a double lot between other lots already graced with two and three story edifices, all outfitted with many windows and terraces designed to afford sweeping views of the ocean over the on-the-beach homes, like those owned by Max and the Kings. These weren’t technically beach lots, because they were on the other side of the street and their views were obstructed by the beach houses in front, so all were half or a third of the price of similar sized homes on the beach. This made beach living affordable, or for many, with the lower cost labor and materials in Mexico, the ability to build big without the hefty price tag of a lot right on the beach.
Max’s lot and structure were built for a wholly different purpose, but were designed to look similar to all the other homes on either side of him. His structure was three stories as well, but instead of a typical second-story master bedroom with furniture positioned to take advantage of the stunning sunrises and sunsets, the large room contained the top of a 2-story 100,000-gallon gravity fed water supply tank. It sat on a reinforced concrete pad, hefty enough to support a 15-story building. Built around this, the rest of the house was an enormous warehouse, a two bay garage which were reinforced in case of attack, caged against an EMP, and insulated to protect its contents from the extreme heat of the Sonoran Desert summers. In the warehouse, he stored enough foodstuffs and supplies to feed and outfit an army, or in this case, enough for two years of survival for him and his only family, the Kings.
The master bedroom, besides having two feet of a water tank protruding through most of what would be the floor, had a spiral staircase leading up from the ground floor and going up to the roof terrace. Inside, the only furniture in the few unused square feet was a lounge chair placed in front of the sliding glass window and balcony, which faced the beach and ocean. Sometimes, when the Kings weren’t in their home, Max would park himself in this chair and enjoy the views and peace its isolation offered him by not being directly on the beach. Some nights, he found himself sleeping in what was probably his most comfortable chair. Then he would wake up with the window open to the sounds of the ocean, and the lively aromas brought in by the breeze. He also felt safe here, even though it wasn’t as protected as his safe room in his beach house, but he loved the ability to see miles in each direction, especially from the terrace above.
The terrace on the roof provided the best views of everywhere surrounding their homes. There were two chairs underneath a canopy for protection against the sun, where they could see any approaching combatant. Others around him built their top-floor terraces to soak up the sun and the ocean, whereas Max built his terrace specifically to afford the best vantage point if someone or some group attempted to take what he and the Kings had. Elevated above everyone else’s terraces for protection and secrecy, Max’s terrace had reinforced walls that could withstand bullets and an inside threshold on which the bipod of his new sniper rifle currently rested, with a special weather-proof cover, mostly protected from an unknown enemy below.
13.
Darla
6:40 A.M.
Clear Lake, Michigan
A light breeze blew. One by one, the sounds of morning, announced the coming day. The flapping flags flying from their flagpole, signaled homage to the US, the state of Michigan, and the Fighting Irish of Notre Dame; the calls of sparrows going through their morning rituals; the approaching roar of a jet ski, slicing through the calmness of the lake; the water lapping against the seawall from the newly created waves. These sounds were part of the melodic music Darla King knew as summer at her grandparent’s lake home in Michigan.
Like her parents, when she was able, Darla loved spending the first part of the morning by the water. When visiting Mammie and Poppy, it was on one of the wooden Adirondack chairs, with coffee in hand, taking in the view and smells of the lake.
At the last minute, she decided to make the quick journey to Clear Lake Michigan, figuring it would be good for her and Danny. He was off, plus she was done with her schooling until next semester and her aerobics class was finished for the summer as well. She thought, why not get the vacation started right away, visit the lake and then back to Chicago late tomorrow before flying to Tucson to meet up with Mom and Dad and hang at the ocean at Rocky Point. She would make any excuse to visit the water.
She loved the water so much that when she graduated from University of Illinois in Computer Science, she was going to get a job in California or Florida or any place she could be by water all the time and be warm. Like her mom, she hated the cold. Michigan was beautiful during the summer, but it sucked during the winter, and so did Chicago.
The sound of an older throaty engine echoed on the lake, then grew louder as the old girl announced its approach with pride. A classic Woody promenaded by, with its occupants happily waving at Darla. She didn’t recognize them.
The community surrounding Clear Lake was a close one, so it was not surprising that every third or fourth boat or jet skier waved at Darla. Most remembered Darla, her sister, and brother from her parents bringing her here over the years. Just like her parents, everyone seemed to know her grandparents. That meant lots of people would be coming by to visit, even during her short stay. Darla never minded. In fact, she thought it was pretty cool that so many people cared about her and her family.
Another engine sounded. This one was testosterone-filled, its pistons pumping more rapidly. Within a couple seconds, it floated into view. This time, its driver was someone she recognized. It was Steve-Something. Cute, she thought to herself, as Steve Something drove by waving. She couldn’t help herself. Grabbing her Droid phone, she surreptitiously snapped a photo of him and his boat with her right hand, while waving with her left. For just one moment, her eyes locked into his, her heart fluttered, and then Steve passed out of sight. She opened her mail app, started a new email, selected Sally’s email address from her contacts and started typing out her message.
OMG, I just saw Steve-I-Can’t-Remember-His-Name… You remember him, my knight in shining armor who saved me many summers ago. I also don’t remember him being that cute. Of course, we’ve both grown up since then.
Darla added the picture to her email.
He just boated past me in a…
She squinted at the picture, trying to remember the mo
del. Holding her thumb on the picture, an app popped up with choices. She chose Google Googles and then Search. About a second later, a search result page appeared with an exact match, a Cigarette 39 Top Gun. Returning to her email, she pressed her forefinger to the last letter of her email and selected paste.
… Cigarette 39 Top Gun. Not sure which was hotter. Wish you were here. See you in a few days.
Love, D
She pressed the Send button and a swoosh sound announced its sent status.
“Can I join you?” Her grandpa announced, still wearing his pajamas, but looking stylish in them.
“Sure. Good morning, Poppy.” She pushed up from the chair, making a smoochie-face and accepting his kiss on her cheek.
“Was that Steve Parkington who passed by in the boat?” He asked, taking the chair next to Darla.
“Parkington. I forgot his last name. I don’t remember him being that good looking. I hope we’ll get to see him while I’m here.”
“You will tonight,” Fred King grinned at granting his granddaughter’s wish. “Steve and his parents, John and Uta, will be here. They’re all coming over for tonight’s barbeque.”
“Really? Awesome. I’m glad I brought a proper swimsuit ensemble with me. I remember Steve, of course, but I don’t remember his parents,” she declared, trying to take her Poppy’s knowing looks off the subject and taking the last sip of her coffee.
“You might recall they were over two summers ago when you were here, although Steve was probably in school at UM then. He has since graduated and runs his own company full time. John & Uta live here, but work in Detroit. She is a manager at the large power plant there and John owns some sort of computer company that has something to do with sharing pictures on the Internet, I think?”
Oh yeah… Picshare. I love that app on my phone, she thought, really glad she made the trip.
“Your old friend Stacy Jenkins is coming over too.” You ought to talk to her about sharing a ride with you to O’Hare tomorrow night. I think she’s flying out around the same time as you.
“I haven’t seen Stace in a while. I don’t know if we will be able to share a ride, unless she can get one back, because Danny has to get to school when we get back after the holiday. But maybe we can at least caravan and share a beer at O’Hare. This trip is getting better and better.”
“Oh and there’s a surprise,” he said with a smile, letting the suspense build, until Dar was practically bouncing of the chair, “Tonight is Clear Lake’s fireworks show.”
“Wow. Awesome, I love fireworks,” she said gleefully, clapping her hands.
“I know.” He couldn’t wait to tell her this when he heard she was coming to visit them, knowing how much as a kid she loved oohing and ahhing the fireworks displays on the fourth.
“Speaking of fireworks,” she furrowed her brow, “did you see the funny colored lights last night? I thought maybe it was fireworks, cause my bedroom was lit by all these colors and lights, but I didn’t hear any sounds. I was half asleep and was trying to figure out what they were, when I fell back to sleep, thinking how beautiful they were.”
“I’m sure it must have been the Woo’s next door. They always have great fireworks. They were probably shooting them off last night, but it’s weird that I didn’t hear them either.”
14.
Prime Numbers
6:50 A.M.
Clear Lake, Michigan
“Prime numbers,” Steve Parkington yelled to the morning. This revelation hit him while thinking about yesterday when his little nephew delighted in the act of squishing bugs in front of his sister, attempting without much effort to generate shrieks out of her, just as Steve used to do when he was a kid during the plague of cicadas.
“Why didn’t I think of it the first time?” he chided himself. The key is all around you, the message said. He reasoned that the cicada had two known life cycles, 13 or 17 years. Both were prime numbers. The prime numbers listed on the final screen went all the way to 3301 and the cicada’s life cycle all pointed to some sequence of prime numbers.
Steve turned off the boat’s engine, and in one fluid motion, hopped onto his parent’s dock, while holding the mooring line. He pulled the boat to the dock and then tied it off, quickly and precisely. His mind and body were a buzz of excitement from both figuring out the answer to the puzzle and seeing Darla King. She looked great, sitting in the lounge chair sipping her coffee. He couldn’t wait to meet her again, tonight.
They played as kids so long ago. He was secretly in love with her then, but she was so popular and beautiful, and he was still in his nerdy phase, with glasses and unkempt hair and clothes. Then, a couple of days ago, his father told him she might be at the barbeque. He looked her up in Facebook, surprised at how the years had turned her into such a beautiful woman. But he didn’t friend her, although he couldn’t at this moment remember why. He would cross those bridges tonight, but now it was the cicada and he had to share it with his father.
He stopped his jog at the patio door and then walked briskly to his father’s study to find the man who shared not only his genes, but also his interest in puzzles. Together, since finding the clues, they tried to figure out together what it all meant and where it would lead.
Steve opened the office door, and found his father sitting behind the same desk that Steve was at two days ago, trying to crack the cicada code. The largest of the five screens had a map with a virtual pin on it. His father was grabbing what appeared to be a color printout of the same map.
He turned to the door where his son was standing. “Hi, just the man I wanted to see. We solved it, Son.”
Steve was eager to hear, but also disappointed at the same time, knowing his father just figured it out too.
“It’s GPS coordinates somewhere near Boulder, Colorado.” John said, handing the printout to his son. “It was the cicada that pointed to the prime numbers –”
“I know the life cycle of 13 and 17 years. That’s why I came in here, cause I just got it,” Steve said, while looking up from the map.
“Yes,” John picked up, “I was looking at the prime numbers and the other cyphers you figured out. They pointed to specific GPS coordinates, which when entered, gave us this location.”
“But, what’s there?” Steve asked the obvious.
“I have no idea. You want to go find out?”
“Duh. When do we leave?”
“I have a little business first,” John paused, “but then we’ll take the Cessna early tomorrow evening to Denver and then a rental car to these coordinates.” He made an exclamation point with his finger, jabbing onto to the pin of the map he had printed. “What do you think, sound like a great adventure doesn’t it?”
“Dad, that’s awesome. Great work,” he said without as much enthusiasm as John had hoped.
“Everything okay? Thought you would be more excited.” Then it occurred to him, “You’re really looking forward to seeing Darla, aren’t you?”
“Busted,” Steve said, feigning embracement. “There is a reason why most of your friends call you the smartest man they know. When can we head over there?”
“Your mother had to go back to work because of some problem at the plant. Everyone else will be at the dock ready to go at one.”
“Great,” Steve beamed. He was filled not only with the joy from their mutual accomplishment and the upcoming sense of adventure, but from his eagerness at seeing Darla tonight.
15.
Fireworks
1:20 P.M.
He saw her the moment they pulled alongside the King’s dock.
She was radiant, and far more beautiful than he ever remembered. She wore a red, white, and blue bikini, with a wrap around her waist. Her hair was long and black, and it sparkled in the afternoon sunlight. Her smile, punctuated by her pretty red lips, turned into a laugh that she bellowed at two girlfriends facing her. Her voice reached their boat, and flew to him like the beautiful song of a rare bird. Wow, he thought, she’s gorgeous.
Waiting for his head to break the surface, John yelled, “Hang on, Steve, can you grab the cooler?”
“Sorry, I’m coming,” he yelled back from the dock a few moments later.
Pulling himself out of the water, he realized his suit clung to him somewhat more snugly than he would have wanted. Tugging on his suit edges, he looked up and saw Darla and her two friends, now quiet, staring right at him. Feeling flushed, he smiled, quickly turned and walked over to the boat docked to his family’s boat. His heart raced and his face red, he reached for a large cooler his father handed him.
Darla was beside herself with excitement, ignoring the giddy schoolgirl remarks from her friends, watching him grab a cooler from his father and walk down the dock towards her. She thought he was cute when she saw him in the boat this morning, but OMG, he turned out to be a major hunk.
She smoothed her wrap, and simultaneously combed back the right side of her hair, pulling it over her right shoulder. “Do I have anything in my teeth?” She breathed quietly to her friends, who were now ignoring her and watching Steve approach. They all waited, breathlessly.
“Hi, Darla. I don’t know if you remember me from years ago. I’m Steve,” he said with a slightly nervous voice, making eye contact with her.
“Hi, Steve,” she said playfully. “How could I forget? You saved my dignity when we were kids and my top came off when we were diving off this very dock. Your friend Robbie Benson wouldn’t give it back to me, even after I begged him. You threatened him. It was something about his braces…” she trailed off trying to remember.