Desolation

Before the Event, the sand, sea, and sky were alive: massive carpets and curtains of undulating birds in constant motion. Each fished, fought to secure its food, or screeched its displeasure to anyone or anything that encroached upon it space. Now, all the larger birds were gone, from sea gulls and pelicans to the less common crested boobies and herons. Nearly all were voided from the beach, except those few who found permanent respite there. Bill witnessed first-hand the effects of electrically induced charges from the CMEs on many birds in flight, especially the larger ones. It was some sort of disruption to their internal radar systems. Over the first ten to twenty days, the birds provided a good barometer to each subsequent CME. Their typical V-patterns or individual soaring would look normal enough. Then, without warning, all would stumble in mid-air, each punched in the gut by some invisible fist. Loud cries of pain and confusion would flood the skies. Most would seem to regain some control, but then it would happen again, this time taking all their fight away. Their wings would flutter feebly, offering no resistance to gravity. Losing all lift they would fall from the sky, crashing into the sand, the water, or nearby beach houses, often causing substantial damage. It was as though they decided they were through providing flying demonstrations to the humans and simply gave up. But now, they were all gone. Perhaps they were all dead. What other explanation was there?

No matter how much he tried, dread filled his consciousness. How could we even hope to live here much longer? All this death around them would eventually breed disease. And when the sea no longer provided food for the masses, it seemed certain that the many hungry, led by bandits, would try to take food from others, making it near impossible to defend their homes. It now seemed apparent to Bill that they were in the worst possible place to be for this type of apocalypse, in spite of all of Max’s planned defenses and prepping. And yet, this apocalypse had been known to Max. Why did Max think we could survive here? It just doesn’t make sense.

Then, another realization: he remembered the passage from Max’s great-grandfather’s journal. Max was the custodian of Russell Thompson’s family promise to Bill’s great-grandfather, Peter King. It turns out Peter was Russell’s best friend, who had saved him from certain death. For this, Russell’s family swore an oath of protection. That was why Max had spent so much time preparing both their homes in Rocky Point… It was for them!

Guilt clung to him like the layer of sticky sweat covering his skin. He slumped down in one of the two Adirondack chairs, letting depression sink into his psyche. It was because of them that Max allowed El Gordo’s men to abduct him. But there was more. He didn’t doubt Max’s friendship, but he now realized that their meeting was not fortuitous; it had been arranged. Both Bill and Lisa remembered seeing Max before, once in Rocky Point when they first traveled down here and once in Tucson, long before they supposedly met here. There were funny excuses, but now he knew the truth. Bill remembered the day they first saw Max in Rocky Point. It was at a restaurant and they had been telling other friends that they most wanted to live on Dorado Beach. Somehow, not much later, they were persuaded to rent the house next to Max, right here on—Dorado Beach. “Son of a bitch,” Bill whispered, hoarse with emotion. He must have built his house knowing full well that he would… what? “Holy shit! You owned our house too.” Bill now spoke loudly to Max, as if he were sitting in the chair beside him. “That’s how we were able to rent this place and then… the magic killer deal. The one we couldn’t refuse. We bought our house from you, didn’t we? You sly son-of-a-bitch,” he said to the empty chair, shaking his head, connecting everything in his mind.

“What else were you responsible for in our lives, my business… hell, our marriage?”

Bill would have been livid if he’d figured this out before the world ended, but now it only made him feel guiltier. Everything Max had done was to benefit them. Had it not been for Bill’s family and their love for this beach, Max would have no doubt set himself up someplace much more safe and defensible. With what Bill now knew, he was sure Max would not have stored all of this food and built the defense he had in Rocky Point, if he had known the problems they would encounter. There was only one solution.

They had to save Max and they had to get out of here.

Taking a breath, he rose, shook off the heavy sheen of sweat and depression and headed for the patio door. He gave their pool a wide berth; he imagined an electrical hand would reach out of it and grab him if he was too close. Just before entering the house, Lisa called to him. “Bill, someone’s at the door.”