“None of the online reviews mention bikers, Mom,” I remind her.“And your little sewing circle of single ladies have never steered you wrong before.”
All I can think about is that white t-shirt with the black logo.The mountain and the moon.And those two words: Midnight Son.
Oh my God.Is it even possible?Midnight Riders—Midnight Son.If that man lives on Landslide, I don’t know what I should do.
Part of me wants to slap the crap out of him for leaving the bar that night without so much as saying goodbye.And the other part of me wants to run and hide.Because that raunchy dream I had about him was dirtier than any biker could ever hope to be.
Thank God my mother is so self-absorbed that she doesn’t even notice how silent I am.
“Uh-oh.”Monty Hubble looks to the west as the pink-gold rays of sunset are blocked out.“I don’t understand how that crept up so quick.”
Following the direction he’s looking, Mom and I get a nasty shock.Huge, billowing, yellowish-gray clouds are assembling in a canopy over our heads.The balmy temperature plummets.
“This makes no sense…” Monty takes it like a personal insult that the weather has changed.The lake water heaves and churns as the wind picks up.The boat rocking from side to side goes from mellow to violent in a moment.
A large wave slops over the side of the ferry.Mom screams as the water forms a tidal pool around her shoes.
“Get below deck, ladies!”Monty yells at us over his shoulder as he wrestles to keep the steering wheel on course.“There’re buckets under the table.”
My mom has already begun to stagger down the ladder.Grabbing my backpack, I brace myself to let go of the handle.Widening my stance, I get ready to make a dash for the cabin door.
And then I hear it.
The booming, banging vibration seems to fill the air around us.It sounds like someone dragging a heavy piece of furniture across the floor of a great hall, only amplified a million times.
I’ve never heard the sound before, but I know what the strangely eerie thundering is.
Skyquake.
The reverberating drone continues to the point where I don’t think I can take it anymore.It is powerful beyond measure but terrifying at the same time.Because the sound has a plaintive, emotional quality to it; like heaven sharing a sad, lonely story with the earth.
The silence is deafening when the clamorous moaning ends.The thundering creaking and groaning just stops—it doesn't fade.
The storm has passed.
“Woo!”Monty wipes his forehead and tries to smile.“I’ve only heard that a few times before, but it never fails to scare the be-jay-sus out of me.”
“Is the sound localized?”Even though my heart is in my mouth, I am desperate to know more.Throwing down my backpack, I sit on the bench.
Monty picks up his travel guide personality again as if the skyquake never happened.“Landslide is the epicenter of skyquake activity, Miss.Folks come from all over hoping to hear it.Guess you got lucky.”
“I better go see how my mom is.”I think I heard her using the bucket.Amelia O’Hara does not travel well in boats.
“Don’t forget to sign your waiver,” Monty reminds me.
Weaving back to the bench, I pick up the clipboard.
“I acknowledge that any assistance I receive from the Indemnified Parties is done without any admission of liability or fault on their part, and is done purely as a show of goodwill and empathy.”
Why would I need any assistance from anyone on Landslide?Sounds like legal overkill to me.
Midnight Riders—Midnight Son.
I sign the form.
The ferry approaches the jetty at tortoise speed.It’s twilight, so maybe that is the reason why a lump of trepidation sticks in my throat.Isolated holiday destinations do not look appealing when the last rays of daylight fade to gray—especially this one.
Landslide is not at all like the attractive tourist spot it is meant to be from the online reviews.Nowhere do they mention that sullen, oil-slick waters surround an ominous bulge of land in the middle of a wild, remote creek.
